#this and the family pictures in the living room!!!

[theforestknowsmydreams]

there was even really big good stuff! it got a bit way too long, but it's also very happy, so i'm leaving it below

context: my family is messed up. i grew up with my mother, and she eventually forbid me from contacting my father (who then passed) and would never miss an opportunity to talk bad about his side of the family. before 2024, the last time i saw them was 2016.

i gathered all my courage, and sent them all an email. my dad's siblings, and his step-mom (my godmother). that email was also how i came out as trans to them all. i was terrified. not long after, they all responded. how they were so so happy to hear from me, how they would of course love to meet up someday, what a question, and using my correct name and pronouns.

we set the date for our first ever family reunion. late march, my father's birthday. it was so scary. i hadn't been to the city we were meeting in since 2018, when i (unsuccessfully) tried to locate my father's grave on my own. i was also going to share a hostel room with strangers, so you can imagine the sheer dread i felt.

coincidentally, a (at the time new) beloved mutual was going to be in the same city about a week prior, to go to see a band we both like live. he encouraged me to also go to the concert, and we shared a room in the same hostel i was gonna be in after he left the city again, so i got a chance to check out the vibes and get used to it.

the concert was absolutely amazing, i made a lot of new friends and acquaintances, just, 10/10. can't wait to do it again. it also gave me the confidence to later hit up my older brother, who lives in the same city and who i also had not seen since 2018.

my brother and i met, and it was perfect. now that we were both adults we could talk about topics he previously avoided, like our childhoods, things we went through, relationships, etc. we talked for over 6 hours until i went back to the hostel. both of us are still using the photo we took together as our whatsapp profile picture.

meeting my dad's family was a little more daunting, but the fear quickly disappeared. my godmother had brought an old photo album of me that my late grandfather had kept, and we went through the pictures together. there was a lot of pictures of me with my dad i had never seen, and they shared stories of my childhood with me that i didn't remember. we went to their graves (dad and grandpa are buried in the same plot) and i didn't have a breakdown. and for once i felt like they would be proud of me. we had food, and we talked, and my godmother gave me a book written by a trans person that she had found and read after i came out. it was great.

in october, i got an email. they were planning another family reunion because they liked the first one so much. this time it was only my father's siblings, because we were going to my late grandmother's home city (and my godmother is not in best health to travel). and, somehow, this one was even happier than the first one.

i was less scared, i guess. most of us stayed at the same hotel because it was only one night and not too expensive, but one of my aunts and her boyfriend (who i hadn't seen since i was a child) have a small camper so they didn't need to. we visited the old family grave and they taught me a lot about our family history, we walked about the city together, had dinner, all the good stuff.

and i felt... at home.

maybe not in that city, but with the people i was sharing this time with. i finally know what family is supposed to feel like. my mother's side of the family and i don't talk anymore, and while i deeply love my older brother, he moved out when i was 3, and we both got issues that make it harder for us to connect.

they asked about my transition, but avoided invasive questions. one time i commented on a mushroom growing in the park we were walking through and my aunt sighed and said "all the men in this family are obsessed with foraging". when i say or do something that reminds them of my father, they will stop and tell me, and ask if i want to hear a story about it.

one email. one email and countless hours or being too scared to send it, that's all it took. i am learning about my childhood, my heritage, my family, and what my future could be. this filled with love.

since then, i've made an effort to do scary things more often. at least when it comes to relationships. message my younger step-siblings that i haven't talked to since breaking all contact with my mother. say "i love you" more. ask friends to hang out more often (i'm still working on that one tbh). i emailed my paternal family for the new year and they said that "we are absolutely meeting again next year. maybe march again?"

it was scary but it was so worth it.

hey honest question, did anybody have GOOD stuff happen to them in 2024? cause it was really bad for me and for most people i know, so it would be nice to hear about anything that's been going WELL for any of you. even if it's small stuff. just to know there's light out there.

[fatecantstopme]

Picture Myself Happy

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: Follows the story line of episodes 17-21 of season 5. Lisa doesn't exist, instead it's (Y/N).

Warnings: canon violence, cursing, use of pet names. SMUT, oral (F and M receiving), unprotected sex (P in V), face sitting, light dirty talk.

"Dean? You okay?" you asked softly.

The look he gave you more than answered your question, but he responded anyway. "I'm about as far from okay as I possibly can be."

"I think we all are."

Dean shook his head. "My decisions have an impact on the entire world, (Y/N)--the world! And I'm sitting here denying fate. Where's that gotten me?"

"What are you trying to say?" you asked softly.

He buried his head in his hands. "I don't know...It doesn't matter."

"It matters to me."

Dean looked back up at you, face full of pain. You were certain he was going to say more, but his reply was cut off by Sam's voice calling his name.

"We've got an insane amount of demon omens in some tiny ass town in middle-of-nowhere Minnesota."

"Great," Dean mumbled as he stood up, face once again an impenetrable mask. "Guess we should get rolling."

You stood up too, but Dean cut you a look and shook his head. "Not happening."

"Dean, come on. I'm more than ready."

"Absolutely not. You almost died not that long ago. You need to rest."

"I've been resting for weeks. I feel fine," you insisted.

"Maybe she's right, Dean," Sam cut in. "We could really use the help."

"I'm the oldest and I say it ain't happening--got it?"

"Actually, I'm the oldest," Bobby quipped as he wheeled into the room. "Now, what exactly are we fighting about?"

"(Y/N) thinks she's ready to hunt again," Dean answered.

"Because I am."

Bobby's expression softened as he looked at you. "As much as I hate to say it, I think you should sit this one out (Y/N/N). Besides, I could really use your help here. You're better at research than either of these knuckleheads."

You were about to protest, but decided against it when you saw the worry in Bobby's eyes. He'd always been good to you and you owed him your life--you didn't wanna worry him more than you needed to. "Alright, alright. I'll sit this one out."

Dean nodded, seemingly pleased. "I'll call you when we get there--let you know we're safe."

You sighed, but nodded your agreement. You hated watching the boys leave to go on a hunt on their own--especially these days. End of the world and all that.

You watched in silence as Sam and Dean gathered their minimal belongings and piled into the Impala. You waved goodbye before coming back inside, expression clouded with a variety of inexpressible emotions.

The last two years had been a whirlwind for all of you--drawing all of you closer together. You cared very deeply for the Winchester boys and for Bobby, and they cared for you.

You were the same age as Sam, so the two of you hit it off with ease, but the elder Winchester was a little less trusting. The fact that Bobby trusted you meant a hell of a lot to Dean and went a long way in getting him to trust you enough to help on a couple hunts. You were a great hunter and before long, the three of you were almost inseparable.

You counted all three men as family and you knew they felt the same way about you, although you wished Dean's emotions aligned with your own. You weren't sure exactly when it happened, but you realized your feelings had changed one day during a particularly brutal hunt where you almost lost Dean. Somehow, in the midst of the shitstorm that was your lives, you'd managed to fall in love with the most emotionally unavailable man alive.

To make matters worse, you could never tell him for fear of damaging the little family unit you'd created for yourself. Instead, you stood on the sidelines, watching him flirt with every woman with legs and take more of them to bed than you'd cared to count. It made your chest ache, but you hid it well--even from Sam.

Loving Dean Winchester had never been a part of your plans, but you couldn't stop it from happening anymore than you could turn those feelings off now. Every time he walked out the door, you were terrified it would be the last time you would ever see him. You knew he was strong, but you also knew how self-destructive he could be.

He'd been different in recent months and you saw it more than anyone else did. For some reason, Dean chose to confide in you--perhaps because you listened quietly without judgment. You wanted nothing more than to see him find his way back to himself again and you hoped you were there to witness it.

"You gonna come back in or just stare off into the distance all night?" Bobby called to you from inside.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," you grumbled. "I was just lost in thought."

Bobby gave you a knowing look, which you chose to ignore. "Don't you have some research you need help with?"

He rolled his eyes, but didn't comment. He handed you a book and muttered, "Get to reading."

**********

"Dean's gone."

"What the hell do you mean he's gone?" you yelled into the phone.

"I mean he literally took off, (Y/N)!" Sam yelled back. "He killed the Whore of Babylon--which should have been impossible--and then he took off!"

"He...Sam, that's not possible."

"I was there--saw it with my own eyes."

"I, too, was there," Cas said in the background.

"Only a true servant of heaven can kill her," you said, bewildered.

"Exactly," Sam said, voice much softer than before.

"No," you whispered, disbelief lacing your words. "No--he wouldn't."

Sam understood your meaning. "I don't know anymore, (Y/N). I just don't know."

"We have to find him."

"I have a few ideas of where to find him, but I know he's going to come see you first."

"Why me?"

"To say goodbye," Sam said softly.

Your eyes fluttered closed and you could feel tears pressing against them. "I'll call you if he shows up here," you whispered.

Bobby rolled up behind you as you hung up the phone. "What's wrong?"

"I think Dean's going to say yes to Michael."

Bobby's expression perfectly matched the way you were feeling. A mixture of horror, disbelief, pain, and unbridled terror.

There wasn't much more to say after that--you were both just left to wait. There was nothing left for you to do but wait and see if he'd come home.

**********

The next day, there was a quiet knock on Bobby's front door. It was early in the morning and the older man was sound asleep in the middle of a pile of books on his desk.

You went to the door and peered out to find Dean's face looking back at you. You tugged open the door with more force than you'd intended to and stepped out onto the porch.

"Where have you been?" you snapped. "We were so worried."

"I'm sorry, (Y/N)--I should have called."

"Yes, you should have."

"I--uh, well I can't stay long, but I wanted to come see you."

"Dean, please tell me you're not going to do anything stupid."

He smiled weakly. "Now when have I ever done anything stupid?"

You didn't acknowledge his teasing like you normally would--too worried about the truth hidden behind his sarcasm. "You can't say yes," you whispered.

He gave you a pained smile. "I don't really have a choice, (Y/N/N)."

"Of course you have a choice, Dean! We always have a choice."

"If I don't--the whole freaking world burns! Do you have any idea what it's like to carry that weight on your shoulders?"

You shook your head. "I can't imagine the burden--nor can I imagine losing you to some asshole with wings."

He chuckled softly at that. "None of this matters right now--this isn't what I came here to say."

"Then what did you come here to say?"

He stepped forward and took your hand in his. You were surprised by the gesture, but you didn't pull away.

"You know, our lives are messed up. They're complicated and full of pain and darkness and death. There's not much happiness in our lives--especially not before you came into mine."

Tears filled your eyes as you listened to his words.

"When I picture myself happy, it's with you," he whispered. "I just wanted you to know that."

You inhaled sharply and the tears began to flow freely. "Dean, don't--"

He brushed his lips against your forehead, silencing your pleas.

"Don't worry, (Y/N/N). You'll be fine--I'll make sure of it. They're not getting what they want from me without meeting some conditions first."

"Dean, please don't do this. Just come inside and we can talk about it," you begged.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he said softly. "I have to."

As you opened your mouth to respond, Castiel appeared directly behind Dean. You knew there was a possibility he would never forgive you for this, but you couldn't let him say yes. "I'm sorry too."

He looked confused for a moment until he heard Cas's voice from behind him. "Hello Dean." As soon as the hunter turned around, Cas used his grace to knock him unconscious.

Cas looked up at you with a surprising amount of sorrow on his face. "I will carry him inside."

You watched as the angel picked up the much larger man and walked towards the door.

"Did Bobby call you?"

"He overheard at least part of your conversation--enough to know Dean was here."

You nodded and followed him inside. "Good," you whispered.

**********

"Out of all people, I thought you would understand," Dean growled at you.

"You know what? I do understand! I understand your desire to self-destruct at every turn! I see the pain and the guilt and the utter emptiness inside you every time I look into your eyes, so don't you think for a second I don't understand."

He was taken aback by the anger in your voice--he wasn't used to you yelling at him with such intensity.

"It's for the greater good!"

"Screw the greater good, Dean! What happened to stopping the devil and saving the world, huh?"

"This is the only way!" he roared.

"I refuse to believe that," you said in a much more mannered tone. "I can't believe that...if I do, then it means everything we've done has been for nothing."

His expression softened. "No, (Y/N), wait--that's not--"

You held up your hand to stop him from talking. "I can't do this."

You walked away, leaving Dean alone in the panic room to stew with his thoughts.

"He still being an ass?" Bobby asked when you came back upstairs.

"Maybe you'll have better luck," you say to Cas. Both you and Sam had struck out.

"I will try." Instead of taking the stairs like a normal person, Cas zapped himself downstairs and stepped towards the panic room.

You had gone upstairs to get something from your room when you heard Sam yell your name. You came racing down the stairs, only to find the younger Winchester looking upset.

"Where's Cas?"

"Zapped to Oz," Sam fumed. "Dean's gone too."

"Great," you mumbled sarcastically. "Go find him. We'll watch Adam."

You were sitting in a chair, watching Adam sleep--in the least creepy way possible. You felt bad for the kid--it was a shitty life to be dragged into, especially after he was already in heaven.

Just as these thoughts were crossing your mind, Adam disappeared right before your eyes. You blinked a couple times, but the cot remained empty. "Bobby!"

**********

"What the hell do you mean he's gone?" Sam snapped at you.

"As I said before, he literally disappeared," you snapped back.

"Probably Zachariah," Castiel said as he appeared, holding a beaten Dean against his side.

"Dean!" you gasped. "What happened to him?"

"I did," Cas answered.

You were surprised, but you understood the angel's anger. After all, he'd believed in the Winchesters--in Dean--so vehemently that he rebelled against heaven--against everything he'd ever believed.

Cas tossed Dean's body onto the now-empty cot while you gathered some first aid supplies. You began to clean him up, listening wordlessly to the discussion happening around you.

"I think Dean should come," Sam said suddenly.

"Are you insane?" Bobby exclaimed.

"That is a terrible plan," Cas agreed.

Sam looked over at you for input, hoping you would be on his side. "What makes you think that's a good idea?" you asked gently.

"I have to believe he'll do the right thing."

You looked down at the still-unconscious man and sighed. He was the bravest and most loyal man you knew, but you also knew he could be stubborn and self-righteous to the point of aggravation. However, you believed in him too--maybe not as much as Sam, but it was there.

"I think it's highly likely he'll walk in there and say yes without a second thought--especially if it means saving you and Adam," you said honestly. "But I have to believe that in the moment, when it really matters, he'll do the right thing."

Sam gave you a small smile and a nod of gratitude.

"Now until then, could someone please move him down to the panic room?" you asked.

After Sam had talked to Dean and told him the plan, the two of them came upstairs to prepare to leave.

"Sam mentioned you agreed with him," Dean said softly, so only you could hear.

"There's no one I believe in more than you, Dean Winchester," you admitted. "You'll do the right thing."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I know you," you said simply.

He shook his head. "I'm gonna say yes, you know."

"I'm sure you will," you murmured. "But in that moment--the moments before you decide--I want you to remember one thing."

He waited breathlessly for your next words.

"Only you get to decide your destiny."

Surprise lit up his handsome face. Out of all the things he'd expected you to say, that hadn't been on his list. "(Y/N), I--"

"Time to go, Dean," Cas interrupted.

You offered him a gentle smile. "Go--and remember what I said."

Sam, Dean, and Cas disappeared before your eyes and you felt the familiar terror wash over you. This time was so much worse than all the others--this time you really did believe he might not come home.

**********

"Hey (Y/N/N)," Dean said softly as you opened the front door. "Did you miss us?"

The brightest smile he'd ever seen lit up your face and you jumped into his arms. "Dean..." you murmured against his shoulder.

He held you tightly before gently setting you back down on the ground. You gave Sam a hug before the smile fell from your pretty face. "Cas? Adam?"

Sam just shook his head and you sighed sadly. "Well come in. Bobby will be glad to see you both."

The boys explained what had transpired in California as you and Bobby listened quietly. You were glad Dean hadn't really said yes to Michael. You couldn't help but stare at him more than usual, eyes seeking some kind of change in him.

You waited until a lull in the conversation to ask the question that had been eating at you. "So why didn't you say yes?"

Three sets of eyes fell on you, but the only ones you cared about were the mossy green ones.

"Sammy believed in me, even when I didn't deserve it--even when I didn't have the same faith in him. He was stupid enough to take me with him because of that faith...I couldn't let him down," Dean answered honestly. "And, well--I remembered what you said."

You offered him a small smile. "Well I'm glad you did."

Dean held up his beer in a mock 'cheers'. "Screw destiny. I think it's high past time we make our own."

"I can get behind that," Sam agreed.

"That'll work for me," you murmured.

"Well not to put a damper on our middle-finger-to-destiny party, but we still don't have a good plan to defeat Lucifer," Bobby chimed in.

"Buzz kill, Bobby," Dean grumbled.

"We'll figure something out. Somehow, we always do," you added.

**********

You were standing in Bobby's living room trying to find a specific book in the overwhelming piles stacked everywhere, when your phone started to ring.

You answered it without looking at the caller ID. "(Y/L/N)."

"Uhh, am I in trouble? It's Dean."

"Oh shit," you said quickly. "No, nothing like that. I just didn't look at the screen before I answered. What's up?"

"We hit some sort of freak storm coming back, so we're staying the night at a motel we happened to pass. I just wanted to let you know so you wouldn't worry."

You smiled even though he couldn't see you. "I appreciate the heads-up. Both of you stay safe and enjoy a nice night off."

"Thanks, (Y/N/N). You too."

It wasn't until Sam and Dean returned from the trip the next day that you learned of the events that had transpired the night before. Several old Pagan gods had gathered at the motel to discuss the end of the world and of course Sam and Dean just happened to be there too.

Apparently the intent was to use the boys as bait to lure Lucifer to the hotel and kill him--at least until Gabriel showed up and told everyone how terrible of an idea it was. Unfortunately, Lucifer had already been summoned by one of the gods and he ended up killing most of the other gods, as well as his brother Gabriel.

In positive news, Gabriel had given Sam and Dean the information needed to stop this whole showdown between Lucifer and Michael. Essentially, they needed all four Horsemen's rings in order to open Lucifer's cage and throw him back into it.

"Small problem with that plan," Bobby stated as the boys finished their explanation. "We only have two rings and we have exactly zero idea where Pestilence or Death is."

"You always manage to find the silver lining, Bobby," Dean said sarcastically.

"He is right though," you said gently. "And it's technically not the only problem. Even if we magically find the other two rings, we still have one very large problem. How the hell do we trick the devil back into the cage?"

"Shit," Dean mumbled. "I hadn't exactly thought that far ahead."

"That's why you have me."

"I guess (Y/N) and I will work on a way to trick the devil, while the two of you look for Pestilence," Bobby stated with a tone of finality.

**********

"This is an absolutely terrible idea," you said angrily. "Out of all the harebrained schemes you idiots have come up with over the years, this one takes the cake. Not only is he a demon, but he screwed us once already. Do you really think working with him is a good idea?"

Dean sighed and ran his hands over his face. "I don't like it anymore than you do, (Y/N/N), but he's the only lead we have."

"Besides, I'm completely trustworthy," Crowley commented as he appeared in Bobby's kitchen. "Well, at least as long as our interests are aligned."

"Fine, but the two of you aren't going alone with him," you said firmly.

"(Y/N), we'll be fine. You should stay here with Bobby."

"I don't need a damn babysitter, Dean," Bobby snapped. "(Y/N)'s better off with the two of you idjits--at least she'll make sure you don't come home dead."

You gave Dean a mirthless smirk and he grumbled in annoyance. "Fine."

"Nice digs," you said sarcastically as Crowley led you to the ramshackle house he'd been staying in.

"No need to be rude," he said in annoyance.

"Okay, what's the plan?" Sam asked.

"The plan, Moose, is for you and the girl to stay here, while Dean and I go to get the Horsemen's stable boy."

"Absolutely not!" you and Sam yelled at the same time.

"I'm not letting my brother go alone with you," Sam added.

"And I'm not letting you come with me," Crowley snapped back. "First of all, you keep trying to kill me, and secondly, I don't like you."

"Fair enough, but why do I have to stay behind?" you asked.

"Someone has to make sure little Sammy here doesn't do anything stupid."

Sam lunged for Crowley again, but you stepped in front of him, effectively blocking his assault. "Cool it, Sam."

Dean sighed, clearly not pleased with the whole situation, but you could see the resignation on his face. You knew what he was going to say before the words even came out of his mouth. "I'll go with Crowley. You two stay here."

"Dean--" you began.

"I'll be fine, (Y/N)."

It was your turn to sigh and nod in quiet acceptance. You looked at Crowley. "If he's not back in one piece, I will hunt you down and rip your heart out."

Crowley threw his hands up in mock surrender. "Understood."

You and Sam watched the two other men walk out the door, concern etched onto both of your faces.

"I don't like this," Sam muttered.

"Well that makes two of us."

"What did you miss about 'one piece'?" you snapped at Crowley when you saw the blood and bruises on Dean's face and torso.

"He's alive. Besides, I had nothing to do with it."

The look Dean gave him said otherwise.

"Technically," Crowley clarified.

You sighed. "You okay?" you asked Dean softly.

"It hurts, but I'll be fine."

Sam started to enter the room where Crowley and Dean had stashed the stable boy (aka Brady), but his entrance was blocked by Crowley.

"What are you doing?" Sam growled.

"Stopping you from mucking this up and ruining any chance we have at finding Pestilence."

"What's he talking about?" you asked.

"Sam--" Dean started.

"Get out of my way," Sam snapped at Crowley.

The demon grumbled, but stepped aside, allowing Sam to pass.

"Sam, just wait a minute," Dean called after him.

The next twenty minutes was a blur of trying to prevent Sam from killing Brady before you could get the information you needed, Crowley going and murdering a bunch of demons, and all of you being attacked by a damn hellhound.

As the five of you raced away from the hellhound fight, you muttered lowly, "Sometimes I really hate this job."

"Tell me about it," Dean agreed.

**********

"Why exactly do I need to sit this one out?" you asked in annoyance.

"Because," Dean started as he threw another weapon into his bag. "I don't like the idea of you going up against a Horseman, okay? It's dangerous."

"Everything we do is dangerous, Dean," you countered.

He sighed. "This is different."

"For the record, I don't like the idea of the two of you going up against Pestilence either--especially without backup."

Dean threw his bag into the trunk of the Impala and slammed it shut. "This whole mess is our fault, which makes it our problem to solve. I've never wanted to involve you in this hell."

"I know, Dean," you said softly. "But like it or not, I'm involved."

He closed his eyes briefly. "Just--stay here with Bobby, please. For me."

His voice was as close to begging as Dean Winchester ever got, so you sighed deeply and nodded, biting the inside of your lip to keep from saying anything else.

Dean pulled you into a tight hug, holding you a little longer than would be typical of a friendly hug. You tried not to notice or read into it--after all, just because Dean had told you he'd pictured himself happy with you didn't mean he wanted to be with you. He hadn't brought it up since, but you supposed there really hadn't been time.

"Be safe," you whispered as he pulled away.

"I always am."

You knew he was lying, but there was nothing you could do about it. Instead, you gave Sam a hug before watching them climb into the Impala and pull away.

When you walked back into the house, Bobby sensed your mood immediately. "You alright, kid?"

"I just don't like the idea of them going after Pestilence alone."

"I know you care about them, but they're tough boys, (Y/N). They'll be alright."

You gave Bobby a sad look. "I think we both know I care too much."

The older man sighed and nodded. "I don't think you can care too much," he said gently.

You understood what he meant, but you were too worried to respond. This was the reason why hunters didn't have families--love was a weakness that would only cause you more pain in the end.

**********

"No, no, no. Absolutely not."

"If it's the only way--" Bobby tried.

"I said no," you growled.

"Then we might as well accept defeat now," Crowley said. "Without the spell, we'll never find Death in time. Without Death's ring, we can't put Lucifer back in his cage, and the end of the world is back on."

"I'm not letting you sacrifice your soul, Bobby!"

"I'll give it back," Crowley insisted. "It's a temporary loan."

"You're a demon, Crowley," you deadpanned. "Trusting you would be insanity."

"I don't see another option," Bobby said quietly.

"The only other option I can see," Crowley mused, "is using (Y/N)'s soul."

"Over my dead body," Bobby seethed.

"If I won't let Bobby do it, why the hell would I give you mine?"

"I didn't think you would. I was simply offering up the only other option."

"(Y/N)..." Bobby said gently.

"I don't like this," you murmured.

"I know. I don't like it either, but it's our best shot."

You closed your eyes. "It's your soul, so it's your choice."

Bobby looked up at Crowley and nodded. "I'll do it."

When the boys returned looking a little worse for the wear, but alive, you were relieved to see them. Especially since they had Cas in tow.

You hugged the angel, eyes scanning over him for any obvious injuries before looking at Dean and Sam. "All three of you look like hell."

"It has not been a fun day," Castiel commented.

You patted his arm gently. "I'd imagine not."

"We got the ring, though," Dean stated. "So that's really all that matters."

"We, uhh--well we managed to find Death's location while you were gone," you said, hoping they wouldn't notice the worried look in your eyes.

"How?" Sam asked.

"With my help," Crowley stated. "And some assistance from Bobby, of course."

There was something in Crowley's tone that made Dean uncomfortable. "What the hell did you do?" he demanded, addressing Bobby.

"It's not a big deal," Bobby said.

"It only cost him his soul," you said lowly, worry lacing your words.

"What? Bobby, come on! You sold your soul?" Dean yelled.

"It's my damn soul, boy!"

"Technically it's on loan. I fully intend to give it back," Crowley interjected.

"Then give it back!" Dean snapped.

"I will, once Lucifer's back in his cage and we all go back to hating each other."

"You son of a bitch," Dean growled.

You stepped in, grabbing Dean's arm to hold him back. "It was Bobby's choice, Dean. We needed the information and it was going to be his soul or mine."

Dean's expression sobered. He didn't want Bobby's soul to be at risk, but he was beyond terrified of losing you. It would kill him if your soul was damned to hell. "If you don't return it, so help me god--"

"I already threatened him," you said softly. "Repeatedly."

"With torture, I might add," Crowley put in.

Dean almost looked proud. "Good."

"Now that's all settled," Crowley began. "We'd better get to Chicago before the storm of the century wipes the Windy City off the map."

**********

Sam pulled you and Dean outside to chat before preparing for the next mission. "I wanted to talk to the two of you alone."

"Is everything okay?" you asked softly.

"I was thinking about what you said--about getting Lucifer into the cage," Sam responded. "And I think I have a plan that will work."

"Okay, let's hear it," Dean prodded.

"So I already talked it over with Bobby and he was telling me how, when he was possessed, he managed to regain control of himself long enough to keep from killing Dean and stab himself--"

"I can see where you're going with this, and I don't like it," you interjected.

Sam ignored your interruption. "I think I can do the same with Lucifer."

"I'm sorry--what?" Dean exclaimed. "Are you suggesting saying yes to Lucifer?"

"Just long enough to get him into the cage," Sam admitted. "I don't see any other options."

"Absolutely not," Dean snapped. "No way--no way in hell."

"Sam," you said calmly, "this is Lucifer! Not just some low level demon. The amount of sheer force of will you'd need to overcome him is--well it's damn near impossible."

"I know that," Sam said softly. "But I think it's worth a try."

Dean was about to say something else when Crowley appeared with a newspaper in his hand. "Read the headline."

Sam took the paper and began to read, "Swine Flu Vaccines to be Shipped Nationwide by Niveus."

The three of you looked perplexed, causing Crowley to groan. "Niveus? Ring a bell, anyone?"

"Wait," you began, "Isn't that the company Brady worked for?"

Crowley nodded. "At least one of you has a brain. Brady was the senior VP of distribution, to be specific."

"Oh fuck," you muttered.

"Please don't tell me--" Dean started.

"Pestilence had a bigger plan. Swine flu was just the beginning," Sam stated.

"The vaccine is phase two," you whispered.

"Exactly," Crowley added. "And it's full of Croatoan Virus."

"Son of a bitch," Dean muttered.

"You've gotta admit, it's an effective way to infect more than half the country all at once," Sam said quietly.

"We have to stop the distribution," you announced. "When do the trucks roll out?"

"Tomorrow," Crowley answered.

"Great," Dean said sarcastically. "So all we have to do is save Chicago, take Death's ring, and stop the mass spreading of the Croatian Virus to the entire U.S....all in one day."

You sighed deeply. "Well, if anyone can do it, it's us."

Dean looked over at you, a proud smile on his face. "That's my girl."

You blushed and looked away, unaccustomed to hearing him call you 'his girl'. Sure, he called you 'sweetheart', but he called most women that. This felt different, and you weren't sure how you felt about it.

"Let's go save the world," Sam muttered.

**********

You hadn't wanted to separate from Dean, but you knew Sam, Cas, and Bobby would likely need your help more than Dean and Crowley did. You still didn't trust Crowley and you hated the idea of leaving him alone with Dean, especially when they were facing an apocalyptic storm and going up against one of the oldest creatures in creation--Death himself.

"You just gonna sit there?" Crowley asked Bobby, drawing you out of your thoughts.

"No, I'm gonna river dance," Bobby quipped back.

"I suppose if you wanna impress the ladies," he teased. "You know, you can really make these contracts work in your favor, for instance adding your legs as part of the deal."

Everyone stared at Bobby in silence as he slowly began to move his legs for the first time in what felt like eternity. You gasped in shock when he stood up to his full height and took a step forward.

The joy was short-lived, given the tasks you were about to complete. There were a couple hugs before everyone sobered up and finished preparing to leave.

You were about to get into the van with Cas, Bobby, and Sam, when Dean approached you and called your name.

"Dean? You okay?" you asked.

He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his hand lingering against your cheek for longer than it should have. "Just--just be careful, (Y/N/N). Please."

You smiled gently and nodded. "You too, Dean."

He pulled you into a tight hug, placing his lips into your hair, gently kissing the top of your head. "I can't lose you," he murmured so softly you almost didn't hear.

When he finally let you go, your eyes had begun to water--emotions bubbling up inside of you despite your best efforts to conceal them. "Come back to me," you choked out.

He gave you a sad smile as he stepped away. You saw him close his eyes as he swallowed thickly, clearly experiencing some complicated emotions of his own.

"Dean!" Crowley yelled. "Let's get a move on."

Dean groaned and his normal impassive mask slid back into place. "I'm coming, quit your whining." He gave you one last look before walking away from you.

Your heart ached in your chest, an overwhelming feeling of fear embedding itself in your bones. You watched him get into the driver's seat of the Impala before you managed to shake yourself out of whatever trance you were in and get into the van with the others.

"You good, (Y/N)? Bobby asked as you shut the door.

"All good," you lied. "Let's roll."

**********

"Have I mentioned how much I hate Croatoan Virus?" you grumbled as you shot yet another infected person who was charging your way.

"Maybe once or twice," Sam shot back.

"We should have known they would infect people before we got here," Bobby commented.

"Yeah, but at least we've stopped the shipment. Now we just gotta kill some Croats," you said with a smirk as you shot another one.

You and Sam traveled farther into the warehouse, following the sounds of people yelling for help. Cas and Bobby stayed up front to make sure no Croats escaped.

You were certain you had to be nearing the last of the infected people, but as you rounded a corner, one got the jump on you, tackling you to the ground. You fought with him, desperately trying to get him off of you so you could shoot him, but he sent your gun flying, leaving you defenseless.

You were starting to lose the battle, the Croat's teeth close to sinking into your flesh, when you heard a yell from behind you. The Croat looked up just in time to see Sam pull the trigger, bringing the terrifying moment to an end.

He helped you up and you retrieved your gun. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks for the save."

He smiled. "Any time."

The two of you started moving back towards the front of the building. You heard a sound down one of the aisles and you started in that direction. You nodded for Sam to get back to Bobby and Cas, confident you could handle the situation on your own.

You cleared the aisle, but didn't find anything. You started heading back when you heard Sam yell and you started running. You arrived just in time to see Castiel shooting a Croat in the head to save Sam.

He looked slightly pleased with himself, gazing down at the sawed off in his hands. "These things can be useful."

You chuckled and Bobby just shook his head.

Sam got up and clapped Cas on the shoulder, a silent thank you for saving him. "Alright, let's blow some stuff up," he said with a grin.

"This has always been my favorite part of the plan," you declared with a grin of your own.

When the four of you returned to Bobby's, you were pleased to learn Dean and Crowley's mission had also been a success. Not only had they saved Chicago, but Dean had managed to secure Death's ring and learn how to use the rings.

"How old do we think Death is, exactly?" you asked.

"He told me he was as old as God...maybe older, but neither of them could remember," Dean responded.

"Holy shit..."

"Yeah. He didn't exactly strike me as the forgiving type, so I doubt he'll appreciate me lying to him," Dean commented.

"You lied to Death? About what?"

"I told him I was okay with Sam saying yes to Lucifer."

You sighed quietly, not wanting to admit which side you fell on in this particular argument.

Thankfully, Bobby did have something to add. "You and I have always treated Sam like he's a kid, despite the fact that he's one of the toughest people I know. He's been running into burning buildings since he was what, 12?"

"Pretty much," Dean replied.

"I saw him today, Dean. We both did," Bobby said, looking over at you. "He's not that little kid anymore. He's strong--stronger than any of us give him credit for. I think we should have a little more faith in his abilities."

Dean looked over at you, silently asking for your input. "I've always believed in Sam," you said honestly. "I'm not gonna stop now."

Dean nodded, a look of resigned acceptance crossing his features.

**********

You'd just gotten out of the shower when you heard a knock on your bedroom door. "Just a second!" you called.

You quickly threw on pajama shorts and an old faded Led Zeppelin t-shirt, before throwing open the door without checking to see who it was.

"Dean," you gasped in surprise.

"Hey," he murmured awkwardly. "I, uhh--I was hoping we could talk."

"Oh, umm, sure." You stepped aside to let him in, shutting the door behind him.

He sat down on the edge of your bed, looking extremely uncomfortable.

"Everything okay?" you asked worriedly.

"I'm just thinking about what's going to happen in just a couple days and I--I don't want to leave things unsaid."

"Dean, we don't have to--"

"I need to, (Y/N/N)," he interjected. "Just in case."

You didn't want to think about the very distinct possibility that one or both of you might not survive the coming fight. Your heart ached at the mere thought of losing him, and to your surprise he felt the same way.

"I don't know if we'll make it through this--all I know is I'm terrified of losing you," he admitted.

You shifted on your feet, unsure of what to say.

"I'm not used to being afraid," he whispered. "It's not a feeling I'm accustomed to experiencing and to be honest with you, I kinda hate it."

"You don't have to be afraid for me," you reassured him. "I'll be fine. You know I can take care of myself."

"In every other fight? I'd agree completely...but this isn't any other fight. This is Michael and Lucifer--it's the biggest fight of our lives."

"I know," you murmured. "But I have to believe that at the end of this, we'll all be okay."

He nodded, but you could see the emotions clouding his normally bright green eyes. "I wish I had that same faith."

You gave him a teary smile. You understood where he was coming from, especially given his past experiences.

"Any chance I can convince you to stay back?"

"There's no way that's happening, Dean. If you're facing two archangels, I'm coming with you."

He sighed. "I figured you'd say that." He exhaled deeply, clearly preparing himself to say something else. "Things have been so--intense--for the past few weeks and we haven't really had much of an opportunity to talk. We've been dancing around our feelings and I don't wanna keep doing that--I can't."

You swallowed thickly. "I don't know if I can..."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't want you to say anything if you don't really mean it. You're scared and honestly, so am I. This might be the end, Dean--the end of everything. I just don't want you to say something you think I wanna hear because we might die, or something you don't really feel just because you don't wanna be alone for the end...I can't handle that."

Dean stood up and reached out to you. You'd finally let the tears fall during your speech, and he couldn't stand to see you cry. He reached up slowly, giving you plenty of time to stop him. When you didn't, he cupped your face in his hands, gently wiping the tears from your cheeks.

"I don't want you to ever think I'm choosing you because of some misguided desire to not be alone. I meant what I said, sweetheart--you're the only person I can imagine myself being happy with. It's always been you--I've just been too scared to tell you."

You sniffled softly as he finished wiping the last of your tears. "So why now?"

He continued to gently rub his thumbs on your cheeks, almost afraid to let go of you--as if you would simply disappear. "Because I'm tired of pretending I'm not in love with you. If this really is the end, I don't wanna go out without telling you the truth. If you don't feel the same, I understand, but I needed to--"

You leaned in to press your lips gently against his, silencing the rest of his sentence. He returned your kiss, one hand sliding into your hair to pull you closer to him.

You pulled away from him to suck in some air, leaning your forehead against his as you caught your breath.

"So does that mean you might feel the same?" Dean murmured softly.

You laughed lightly. "Maybe just a little bit."

He grinned as he slipped his arms around your soft waist and pulled you closer. "Just a little?" he teased.

You giggled as his fingers gently tickled your sides. "Or a lot."

"Yeah?"

You bit your lip. "Yeah...there's a strong possibility I feel exactly the same as you."

"Oh, baby, I don't think that's possible."

You looked at him in confusion.

"I love you more than anything--I don't even have words to express how I feel about you. 'Love' just doesn't cut it."

You practically melted in his arms, a warm, teary smile gracing your face. "I don't think I can compare to that, but I do love you, Dean--so much."

Dean was one of the most deeply emotional people you'd ever known and the way he loved was no exception. He was incredibly passionate and he loved with a kind of fierceness that almost frightened you. But at the same time, you felt incredibly honored to be loved by such an amazing man--a man who was loyal, brave, strong, and sensitive (even if he would deny it).

Dean kissed you deeply, holding your body tightly against his own. You could feel his arousal stirring against your stomach and you moaned softly.

"I could kiss you all night," he whispered against your lips.

"Why don't you then?"

Dean raised his eyebrows, a small smirk playing on his lips. "How would you feel if I kissed every square inch of your body instead of just your lips?"

You inhaled sharply, his words sending a shock wave of need straight to your core. "Please," you begged softly.

"Oh baby, you're in for a treat." He grabbed you and spun around, tossing you onto the soft bed.

It didn't take long for you both to be completely naked, Dean's head between your legs, bringing you closer to blissful release with each passing moment.

Every movement of his lips and tongue had you moaning in pleasure. You tangled your fingers in his hair, nails scrapping against his scalp as he continued to drive you wild.

When your orgasm finally hit, your hips began to buck wildly, causing Dean to lay his arm across your abdomen to hold you in place. He continued lapping up your juices and teasing your clit until you dragged him away, whimpers of sensitivity leaving your lips.

He breathed heavily as he hovered over you, licking his lips in contentment. "I didn't wanna stop."

You smiled. "I could tell."

"So I can go back down and finish--" he started moving lower and you grabbed him to keep him in place.

"No!" you said, laughter filling your voice. "I'm a little too sensitive for that right now, Dean."

He groaned in displeasure. "Fine," he mumbled. "Later then."

He leaned down to kiss you and you giggled softly against his lips. His antics always made you smile, so you weren't surprised to find the experience continued in the bedroom.

As he deepened the kiss, you felt his cock brush against your core, a sharp hiss leaving your lips at the contact.

"Sorry, baby," he murmured.

"I'm not," you said lightly.

He looked down at you quizzically, but didn't have time to comment before he found himself lying on his back looking up at you.

You grinned down at him, clearly pleased with yourself.

"Whatcha doin' sweetheart?" he drawled.

"Taking what I want."

Your meaning was quickly made clear as you kissed slowly down his chest and abdomen, stopping only to make a soft sound of appreciation when you came upon his throbbing cock.

You wrapped your hand around it and licked slowly from the base to the tip, giving a flick of your tongue against it to collect the precum.

Dean moaned softly, green eyes watching you intently as you took his cock into your mouth, slowly lowering yourself down until you couldn't fit any more.

"Fuck, baby," he groaned, hand reaching for your hair to tangle his fingers in it.

You hummed happily and began to move, bobbing your head up and down in a pleasurable rhythm. Your hand wrapped around what you couldn't fit into your mouth to ensure his entire member was receiving pleasure.

Dean's hips jerked slightly each time you made a noise or a particularly pleasurable motion, and his grip on your hair tightened considerably.

You made it very obvious you were enjoying yourself, which seemed to only increase his pleasure. You very gently caressed his balls, massaging them in your soft hand as you continued to suck his cock.

Dean's moans and curses had increased in both volume and frequency, signaling he was nearing his peak. You flicked your gaze up to look at his face, meeting his dark, lust-blown eyes.

You held eye contact as you continued your motions, soft moans vibrating against his cock.

"Holy fuck," he whispered. "Gonna cum, baby."

You hummed, signaling your desire for him to let go. You continued to hold his gaze, but you switched your focus to the head of his cock, using your hand to rub the rest.

Moments later, Dean came with a low groan of your name, hips stuttering upwards as you swallowed every drop he gave you.

Just as he'd done to you, you refused to stop until he literally pulled you off his cock, aftershocks shaking his body.

"That was incredible," he breathed.

You smiled down at him, appreciating the praise.

"I wanna taste you again," he begged softly.

Your eyes widened a bit, but you couldn't deny the ache in your core. You wanted to feel him inside you so badly, but you knew he'd need some time to work back up to it.

"I suppose you can have a little taste," you murmured teasingly.

You started to get off of him, but he grabbed you to hold you in place.

"Where ya going?"

"To lay down..."

He raised an eyebrow at you. "Did I tell you to lay down?"

You inhaled sharply. "No..."

"Didn't think so, babe." He shifted so his head was flat against the mattress. "Come on up and sit on my face."

"I'm sorry--do what?"

He laughed softly. "Sit on my face."

"Umm...you sure?"

He lifted his head to look at you. "I've never been more certain."

You bit your lip and considered his words for a moment. You'd never sat on anyone's face, but you'd heard it was an enjoyable experience.

"Alright," you agreed, pulling yourself up to hover over his mouth.

"Lower, please," he said.

You lowered yourself down, but remained hovering.

"(Y/N)," he said harshly. "Sit."

You lowered yourself as much as you could without putting your full weight on him.

"For the love of god," he growled, tugging down on your hips and forcing you to actually sit.

You heard his groan and what sounded like a muffled "Fuck yes", before his tongue slipped between your folds and the assault began.

If you'd thought he was good with his mouth before, it was nothing compared to the incredible feelings you were currently experiencing. You had to press your hands against the wall to hold yourself upright and your thighs were pressed tightly around his head.

The sounds coming out of your mouth were loud enough to wake the neighbors, but you couldn't be bothered to care.

You could feel his tongue pressing into your channel while his nose bumped against your clit with every movement. The combination was amazing and your hips started to move on their own, seeking more friction to push you over the edge.

Dean's grip on your hips tightened and he started to move your hips more forcefully, letting you know it was okay to ride his face.

You took the hint and completely let go, allowing yourself to truly enjoy the experience. Dean's moans vibrated through your body, which only served to increase your pleasure.

Your thighs began to shake and your moans had turned to cries of his name as your hips made one final thrust before you fell apart. The orgasm that crashed through you was easily the most incredible one you'd ever experienced--the high both better and longer than ever before.

You lifted yourself off Dean's face as the pleasure became too much, but your legs were no longer able to support you, so you fell onto the bed beside him. You were both breathless, but Dean wasted no time in rolling over on top of you and pressing open mouthed kisses to your heated skin.

When you finally caught your breath, you murmured, "I've never felt that good in my life."

Dean smirked, pride evident on his face. "I'm not done with you yet, sweetheart."

You bit your lip and looked up into his handsome face. "Is that a promise?"

He groaned softly and his cock pressed against your core. You both inhaled sharply and he lowered his face down to kiss you deeply. "You're gonna be the death of me, you know that?"

"I hope not," you whispered back.

He smiled and placed another sweet kiss to your lips. "You ready?"

You nodded--you'd never been more ready in your life.

He gripped his cock and lined it up with your entrance, pressing in slowly to give you time to adjust.

You whimpered at the feeling, his cock stretching you in ways you didn't know you could be stretched.

"You okay, baby?"

"Mhmm," you hummed. "Keep going."

He waited another moment before continuing to push forward. By the time he was fully seated inside you, you were both breathing heavily and a light sheen of sweat graced your face.

Dean pressed soft, sweet kisses all over your face as he waited for your breathing to normalize. "Let me know when you're ready," he murmured.

After a few more moments, you took a deep breath and said, "You can move now."

Dean's hips began to move slowly, his thrusts languid and gentle at first. As your grip on his cock tightened and the soft sounds you made washed over him, his pace began to increase.

"You're so goddamn tight, (Y/N/N)," he groaned softly. "So warm and wet--fucking perfect."

You pulled his face down to yours to kiss him passionately. "Feels so good, Dean," you moaned.

He knew he wasn't going to last very long...which wasn't common for him. You just felt so incredible and he knew he was going to lose control.

He'd be damned, however, if he came before pulling at least one more orgasm from your sweet body.

Dean grabbed your legs and folded them towards your chest, flexing your body almost in half. This position allowed him to get even deeper inside you and the head of his cock pressed against your sweet spot with each thrust.

"Dean!" you gasped in surprised pleasure. Not very many men had managed to find your g-spot, but Dean wasn't exactly most men.

You dug your nails into his biceps--the only part of him you could reach, and your moans turned into an unending song of pleasure.

He'd be lying if he said he didn't love every part of it. Every noise was like music to his ears--a soundtrack he could listen to forever. The sharp pain of your nails in his skin only heightened his pleasure and the look of pure bliss on your face was an image he wanted to sear onto his brain.

He was desperate to watch you come undone--to see your beautiful face in full view as you fell apart for him. He was certain it would be an image worthy of an art museum.

"You gonna cum for me baby?" he asked lowly.

You nodded rapidly, unable to form a verbal response.

"Can feel you squeezin' me so tight."

He sped up just a little more and a sharp gasp left your lips. He knew you were seconds away--and honestly, so was he.

"Need you to cum for me sweet girl," he begged. "Wanna feel it so bad."

His words sent you over the edge, your third orgasm of the night washing over you and throwing you into pure ecstasy.

Dean held back his own impending orgasm just long enough to ask, "Can I fill you up, baby?"

"Please!" you cried.

Dean came with a loud shout of your name, hot ropes of cum filling your pussy to the brim. His thrusts slowed as you both rode out your highs and his cock began to soften as he pulled out and collapsed on the bed beside you.

"That was--" you began.

"I know," he finished.

You turned to look at him and giggled softly. He grinned widely and let out a warm laugh along with you.

"Who woulda thought we'd end up here?" he asked.

"On the brink of the end of the world," you added.

"There's no one I'd rather be with," he admitted.

You rolled onto your side to face him completely. "Same here, Dean."

He offered you a small smile tinged with sadness. "I love you, (Y/N/N)...and if we die tomorrow, then at least you'll know how I feel about you."

You closed your eyes and sighed. "I love you too. But I want a life with you, so let's try to make it through tomorrow, okay?"

He smiled warmly. "Alright, sweetheart. I'd like that."

"Good," you whispered as you nestled in close to him, laying your head against his chest and sighing softly.

Dean wrapped his arms around you tightly as if he was afraid you would disappear if he let go. You fell asleep like that, one last moment of peace and contentment before the final battle.

[cognitiveoverload]

New Year’s Day (Aaron Hotchner x reader)

summary: On the first morning of the new year, Aaron admits that he has a New Year’s resolution.

tags: Established relationship.

It’s barely eight when you wake up. On any other day, you would say you managed to sleep in, but today is different, today you can say it’s quite early to wake up considering you went to sleep some time after three in the morning. As you walk down the stairs, you keep stumbling upon evidence of the night before, from polaroid pictures to patches of confetti, and you can’t help but smile when you remember the best moments of the night.

This year Aaron decided to invite the team for a New Year’s Eve celebration, giving Dave the opportunity to be a guest instead of his usual role as a host. The house was crowded as everyone could bring a significant other if they had one, while JJ and Will brought Henry too, so Jack wasn’t bored to death either.

On your way to the kitchen, you pick up the photos, but you don’t have a look at them before you brew yourself a cup of coffee to fully wake up. As you wait for the espresso machine, you yawn and rub your eyes with the heel of your palm, hoping by some miracle your sleepiness would disappear. You could have stayed in bed with your boyfriend, but the thought of caffeine lured you downstairs.

With the steaming mug in your hand, you decide to sit on the floor in the living room, with your back against the couch as you finally take a look at the polaroids in your hand. Everyone was so happy, and each and every one of your guests had big, wide smiles on the pictures, sometimes making silly faces or hand gestures too. The love they all have for each other is evident, and you can’t help but smile at the sight.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?”

You turn your head to see Aaron approaching with a small smile on his lips. His hair is a mess from sleep, the white t-shirt wrinkled after the night, and the dark blue pajama pants are probably hanging a little lower than usual. You strangely love your boyfriend the most in the first ten minutes after waking up, when the filter between his brain and mouth doesn’t work properly, so you can usually expect some of the sweetest nonsense he can come up with.

He leans down to kiss the crown of your head, and you look up at him with a smile that matches his. “I could be asking you the same thing,” you point out.

“You weren’t next to me,” he states without hesitation. “You know I have trouble sleeping when you’re not there.”

His eyes move to the photos in your hand, but instead of asking you about them, he sits next to you and takes the mug from your hand to drink some of your coffee. You lean your head on his shoulder as you once again go through the pictures, this time holding them in a way that he can see them too. When you reach one of Jack and him, he takes it from you and watches it with a loving smile.

Sometimes he doubts himself, believing he’s not good enough for his son, but there are times like this too, when he’s reminded of how much Jack loves him. You obviously prefer these moments, and you can’t help but place a kiss on his shoulder before resting your chin on it. “He looks so happy,” you tell him quietly, to which he responds with a hum of agreement.

The two of you sit there a little longer, enjoying the quiet morning. He’s holding your hand, occasionally taking your mug to drink even more of your coffee, but you don’t mind, because these are those moments that you cherish the most. These times you can feel how much he loves you. It’s not that he never shows how he feels about you, it’s just more domestic, making you feel like you were a real family.

“You know, I have a New Year’s resolution,” he begins, turning to you with a mischievous smirk. When you give him a questioning look, he takes a deep breath. “I want to marry you this year.”

It’s quite shocking to hear him say these words so nonchalantly, as if it was a topic you have discussed several times already. But you have never talked about marriage, you didn’t think he would want to take your relationship to this level. “Where did that come from?” you wonder out loud.

Aaron raises your hand to his mouth, taking his time to answer. But then he takes the mug from you, and puts it on the floor next to himself. “It’s nothing new, I just wasn’t sure if you wanted this. I mean, we’re good together, you stay here a lot, but something was always missing. And then I realized this something was you moving in and becoming a real member of this family. Marriage… it’s just a step I want to take with you to make sure you don’t go anywhere,” he says with a smile.

You giggle before leaning closer to give him a quick kiss. “Good to know.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Ask me, then you’ll see,” you tease him.

Rolling his eyes, he wraps an arm around your shoulder to pull you closer. “You’re mean,” he points out. Before he could say anything else, you hear the wooden steps creak, a clear sign that his son woke up as well. “Morning, Jack,” Aaron calls out, raising his hand to wave to his son, signaling him so he knows where to find the two of you.

“Good morning,” the boy says as he sits next to his father and curls up against his side.

With a loving smile, he puts his arm around his son, then you both listen to the little boy telling you about how much fun he had last night, and how you should let him stay awake this long more often. Aaron lets out a thoughtful hum as he watches the kid. “You can stay awake past midnight on your birthday. How does that sound?”

Jack furrows his brows as he considers the offer. “Can the others come over again?” The answer is a nod. “Okay.”

Your boyfriend ruffles his son’s hair briefly before he leans over to you. “He can also stay awake on the night of our engagement party,” he informs you. When you give him a displeased look that he brought it up in front of Jack, he decides to speak up again. “Hey, I’ll ask you when you least expect it.”

And you know he’s telling the truth. You definitely won’t see it coming.

[theshiftingwitch]

Self concept for the new year

This time of year is always exciting! It feels like a new beginning, a fresh start where you get to leave everything that didn't work behind and look ahead for better days to come.

You're most likely done with your vision boards, your lists, your goals and wishes and dreams, and you're excited for that clock to strike midnight.

Whether you're celebrating alone in your room or surrounded by friends and family, you could probably feel the tension in the air, the arrival of new opportunities, new hope, and new beginnings. It's almost electrifying! And while the sensation is definitely not new, it is fleeting.

By January 5th we go back to the mundane cycle of life. Our new years resolutions become a crumpled list collecting dust on some shelf somewhere while we drown in the hustle and bustle of our daily lives.

But not you.

No.

You know better.

You have more tools in your disposal than most people do.

You know about the law of assumption!

Ah, I can hear it already.

"But, my dear witch, I have spent most of 2024 trying to manifest my dreams and I left the year the way I started it: Disappointed and deflated. Why would 2025 be any different?"

It is different, my little firecrackers! Because this year, you're actually going to get everything you have ever wanted and more.

How? Simple! You already have it.

I can see you looking around. The 3D is not conforming, you're noticing all of the lack and the negativity and you're wondering how do you have it if you can't see it?

That's where self concept comes to play.

Look, whether you want to admit it or not, self concept is THAT girl ✨

is it necessary to manifest? No, but my god does it help!

If you believe that you are the creator of your reality, that you are the most powerful being, that you are worthy and deserving of your desires and that you're the universe in ecstatic motion, why wouldn't you get everything you could possibly want?

You have to hold yourself in high regard. You have to believe in your own power. You have to love yourself madly, deeply, unconditionally, that you refuse to settle for anything less.

You have to be defiant.

You desire. You decide. You deliver. You receive.

How to work on your self concept:

•Mirror work: stand in front of your mirror and look into your eyes. Choose one or two affirmations and say them out loud while you keep eye contact with yourself. Do that for at least 5 minutes every day.

•Robotic affirmations: Again, pick one or two affirmations and repeat them for as long as you can as often as you can. Dedicate some free time during the weekend (or whenever you have a couple of hours) and do a saturation session in which you repeat your chosen affirmations nonstop (in your head) for hours on end. You'll love the results.

•Subliminals: pick one you like and loop it as you're falling asleep. Let it play all night. Your conscious mind might be asleep but your subconscious is awake and listening, and subliminals are a great tool to impress your new state onto your subconscious mind.

•Live in the end: picture the person you want to be. Who would you be if you were the person who had all of their desired now? Think like them, talk like them, walk, eat, drink, breathe, dress like them. They are you. You are them. Act like it.

Whether you're manifesting an SP, money, success, fame, desired appearance or a different life altogether, self concept is one of the most powerful tools to aid in your manifesting journey. Think in your favor, decide you're worthy of everything good and beautiful, and remember who you are. Take people off the pedestal you belong on and reclaim your power.

Make 2025 different. You deserve to be happy!

Happy manifesting ❤️

[charlesslut16]

-getting a puppy for christmas-

summary : you and arthur are becoming puppy parents...

PAIRINGS : arthur leclerc x fem!reader

WARNINGS : none

note : I hope that you like this and i thought about this idea as i saw the photo of arthur and leo! ❄️🐕‍🦺

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The crisp December air nipped at your cheeks as you and Arthur Leclerc stood in front of the animal shelter, both of you trying to contain your excitement.

The holidays were already magical, but today, something extra special was about to happen. After months of discussions, preparations, and endless puppy pictures, today was the day you were finally picking up your new furry family member.

Arthur squeezed your hand, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "I can’t believe it’s finally happening," he said, glancing over at you with a smile that couldn’t be contained. "We’re going to be dog parents."

You laughed softly, squeezing his hand back. "I know! I’ve been looking forward to this for so long. I hope he’s as cute as the pictures."

"Oh, he will be," Arthur replied confidently, his voice warm and excited. "And we’re going to spoil him rotten. Are you ready for the puppy life?"

You could feel the excitement building in your chest. "I think I’ve been ready for this my whole life."

The door to the shelter opened, and the woman who had been helping you both came out, holding a small, squirming bundle in her arms. A wave of excitement and joy washed over you as you caught your first glimpse of him.

"Meet Finn," she said with a smile, handing you the small, floppy-eared puppy. His fur was a soft mix of light brown and white, his big, brown eyes full of curiosity. The moment his paws touched your arms, you could feel your heart melt. He was perfect.

Arthur crouched beside you, his eyes wide with adoration. "Finn, huh? He’s perfect."

You smiled, stroking the puppy’s soft fur as Finn squirmed in your arms, his tiny tail wagging furiously. He was already making himself at home, licking your fingers in pure excitement. "He’s going to be our little bundle of chaos," you said, laughing softly as he tried to nibble on your sleeve.

"Well," Arthur grinned, "chaos is what we signed up for, right?" He stood up and gently took Finn from your arms, cradling the puppy in his hands. "This little guy is going to have the best Christmas ever."

"I agree," you replied, following him to the car. "I can already tell we’re going to be the best dog parents."

Finn's eyes seemed to light up with excitement as he settled in Arthur's lap for the car ride, his little body barely big enough to sit up straight. Every now and then, he let out a tiny bark, as if expressing his excitement for what was to come.

The air inside the car was warm and cozy, and you couldn't help but smile as you watched Arthur gently stroke Finn’s fur, a soft laugh escaping his lips every time the puppy tried to climb up his chest.

When you finally arrived home, you rushed to open the door, eager to show Finn his new space. Arthur followed closely behind, carrying the little puppy in his arms, and together, you brought him inside.

The living room was decorated with a cozy Christmas tree, the lights twinkling softly in the dim room. The scent of pine and cinnamon lingered in the air, making everything feel even more festive.

"Welcome home, Finn," you whispered, setting down a small bed by the Christmas tree where the puppy could curl up. "This is your new home."

Arthur set Finn down on the floor, and the puppy immediately began to explore, sniffing around the tree and inspecting every corner of the room. He was so tiny, but his energy was already evident as he tried to paw at the low-hanging ornaments on the tree.

"Think we’re going to need to puppy-proof the tree?" Arthur asked with a chuckle, watching Finn make his way over to the sparkling lights.

"Definitely," you agreed with a laugh, crouching down to join him. "But that’s all part of the fun, right?"

The next few hours were filled with laughter and excitement as you and Arthur watched Finn explore every inch of your living room, discovering toys and treats that had been thoughtfully prepared for him.

It was chaos—Finn knocking over a small plant here, chewing on a shoe there—but it was the good kind of chaos. The kind that made your home feel full and alive in a way it hadn’t before.

As the evening wore on, the two of you sat on the couch, Finn nestled between you both, his little body curled up against your side. The lights of the Christmas tree twinkled softly in the background, and the warmth of the room made everything feel peaceful.

Arthur reached over to squeeze your hand, his voice soft. "This feels right, doesn’t it? It’s like everything is coming together."

You looked at him, your heart full. "It does feel right. I’m so glad we’re doing this together."

Arthur smiled, his eyes softening as he looked at you. "This Christmas is going to be special. I can already tell."

Just as you were about to respond, you noticed Finn’s little eyes fluttering closed. His tiny body was curled up on the blanket, and you couldn’t help but smile as you watched him drift into a peaceful sleep. There was something so serene about the sight—something that made everything feel like it was exactly where it was supposed to be.

"You’re right," you whispered, resting your head on Arthur’s shoulder. "This is perfect. Best Christmas ever."

Later that night, after dinner and more playtime with Finn, you both tucked him into his little bed by the tree, wrapping him up in a soft blanket.

The house was quiet now, save for the crackling of the fireplace and the occasional soft whimper from Finn as he adjusted himself in his bed.

Arthur walked over to the tree, reaching for a small box that you hadn’t noticed before. "I thought we could end the night with something special for Finn," he said, a playful glint in his eyes.

You raised an eyebrow, smiling at him. "What’s this?"

Arthur handed you the small box, and you opened it to reveal a tiny collar with a gold tag that read “Finn – The Leclercs.” You smiled, feeling your heart swell with emotion.

"Well," Arthur grinned, "he’s officially part of the family now."

You gently placed the collar around Finn’s neck, the puppy’s eyes lighting up as he squirmed around, trying to nibble on the tag. "Welcome to the family, Finn," you whispered, your voice full of affection. "We’re going to take care of you, no matter what."

As you looked up at Arthur, he gave you a soft, loving smile. "I’m so glad we did this."

"Me too," you whispered back, leaning in to kiss him. "This Christmas has been perfect."

And as you sat together by the tree, with Finn snoozing peacefully in his bed, you realized that this was just the beginning of something beautiful. A new chapter.

A new family. A new adventure together. And in that moment, you knew that you and Arthur, along with Finn, would make the perfect team, growing together one day at a time.

[mmso-notlikethat]

consider this my first lines of 2025.. even tho it's just *gestures* this tagged by @loucifersbitch , @typicalopposite , @bidisasterevankinard

"I don't mind. Let the ones with families have their moments," Tommy had said when his captain gave him a skeptical look when he volunteered to cover a 48-hour shift over New Year's.

It was a holiday like any other—just another tick of the clock, another excuse for people to drink too much and make promises they wouldn't keep.

It had ended with a small restaurant fire—a teenage boy trapped behind a counter, choking on smoke. Tommy pushed through the heat, hauled the kid over his shoulder, and carried him out to safety.

The boy's mother had sobbed in relief, clutching her son tightly as she thanked Tommy over and over. But as he'd stood there, catching his breath, he'd realized he was bleeding—a shallow cut on his forearm from shattered glass, barely more than a scratch. His shoulder and ribs ached from the strain, but it was nothing serious.

When Tommy stepped through the door of his house, the silence hit him first. Then the cold. The kind that seeped into the bones, making even the walls feel unwelcoming. He frowned, flipping on the light. The heater must have given out while he was gone. It wasn't the first time—this old fixer-upper had its quirks, and he'd been too busy to sort them all out.

For a moment, he stood there, staring into the quiet emptiness of his living room. It was tidy, almost too tidy. A stack of dishes sat drying on the counter. The couch was still arranged just so from the last time he'd tidied up. There was no sign of living…

The cold pricked at his skin. He grabbed his keys without a second thought and stepped back out into the night.

Tommy drove. He didn’t know where he was going, only that he needed to be somewhere else. The city gave way to suburbs, the suburbs to open stretches of road. The streetlights disappeared, replaced by the glow of the moon and stars, and the traffic thinned to nothing. He passed fields, hills, and a few lonely gas stations, his mind as empty as the road ahead.

Eventually, he pulled over at a scenic overlook, the kind of spot tourists might stop to snap a picture during the day. It was deserted now, silent except for the occasional rustle of wind through the brush. Below him, the city twinkled faintly in the distance, a sprawling sea of light.

He stepped out of the car and leaned against the hood, staring down at the view. His breath puffed in the chill air, and he shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, wincing as the motion pulled at the bruise on his shoulder.

He shifted slightly, the ache in his shoulder flaring as he pressed on the bruise—an unintentional, reflexive motion. The pain was a silent reminder of why he existed. It grounded him, pulled him back from the edge of whatever dark thoughts were circling, whispered to him that he was still here because someone, somewhere, had needed him. Because that boy needed him.

But who needed him now?

His fingers curled around the edge of his jacket pocket, clutching at nothing, his knuckles whitening in the cold. He thought of the boy’s family, how they had clung to each other in relief, their world momentarily righted because of something he’d done. The memory should have been enough to fill the void inside him, but it wasn’t.

The truth he never said aloud crept into his mind again, uninvited and unrelenting... He didn’t know if anyone would hold him like that if it came down to it. He didn’t know if anyone would notice if he disappeared, if anyone would be waiting on the other side of a door, asking where he’d been or if he was okay.

Or maybe he knew…

Tommy didn’t know how long he stood there, letting the cold bite at his cheeks and nose, feeling as small and distant as the lights below.

He thought about how, for a moment, he’d felt like maybe his existence meant something.

But that moment had passed, like they always did. Now it was just him and the night, the cold and the quiet.

He pressed on the bruise again, a harder touch this time, letting the sharp sting cut through the haze of his thoughts.

“Happy New Year Tommy,” he muttered to himself, his voice barely louder than the wind. “I’m still here,” a little louder, as if saying it aloud would make it true. And then he laughed—a short, sharp sound that disappeared into the vastness around him.

[dumbbitchenergy17]

Where the Wild Things Are - Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven: I've Seen This Film Before

Plot: Wild men or monstrous infected creatures, the world is wild and ravaged by Cordecyps but some are raised in it and flourish becoming a wild thing.

Word Count: 3.6K

Pairing: Joel Miller x Platonic!Teen!Reader, Ellie Williams x Platonic!Reader

Warnings: canon-typical fighting/violence, injuries, harsh language, tw: ANXIETY ATTACKS/RESPONSE, trauma from abusive mother, description of child neglect/abuse

—————

I think I've seen this film before and I didn't like the ending

You're not my homeland anymore so what am I defending now?

You were my town, now I'm in exile, seein' you out

I think I've seen this film before

The booth table at the Tipsy Bison is frighteningly quiet with the attendants staring at each other. You sit on one side of it your hands picking the table and on the other side is your mother…and father. The decision to meet wasn’t on your terms but the constant pressure they put on Tommy until you agreed. Joel and Maria were a hundred percent on your side of not wanting to see them but it seemed they wouldn’t stop harassing Tommy until they spoke to you since you now remained at Joel and Ellie’s home having moved back to your old bedroom. The dynamic between the three of you is different, while your relationship with Ellie never changed but did grow stronger it was the change with Joel. He was more active speaking to you and not at you, asking about you which at first was weird and awkward going into it, but soon it became more natural. While some of the conversations have awkward silences where either of you don’t know what else to say or when speaking with Ellie or the others all together you and Joel had similar quips or reactions. This conversation however was the last thing you wanted. Your fingers continue picking at the wood not making eye contact with either of them.

“Y/n…” Your mother starts and you glance at her through your lashes before returning your gaze to the table, “We wanted to see if you’d rather come back to live with us. Given Tommy and Joel’s gracious work taking care of you we think you overstayed your welcome.” She says and you continue picking at the wood. Your mother knew this was different than all the conversations before you were a child with no sense of autonomy but you were older, mature, having grown up on your own following your rules for self-preservation. Your father's hand slaps hard on the table and your gaze snaps up to stare at him and he looks frustrated.

“Your mother is trying to reason with you,” He says and you narrow your eyes at him before glancing at your mother who looks tired by the circles they are running in and the hoops they have to jump through. You take this chance to look at him. You had the same colored eyes and you’d say the same skin tone, but he also had the same one as your mother. There wasn’t much to take in he looked rugged and a bit haggard for his age. When you imagined your father you didn’t picture this.

“Y/n,” Your mother calls to you and your gaze snaps to her recognizing that tone, “We’re appreciative of all they’ve done but they only watched you as a responsibility. You were only a burden for them to shoulder. You can do good by leaving.” You feel your skin crawl as she reaches out to grasp your hand. You go to pull but her fingers dig into your forearm and your eyes widen as you look at her. Her fingers rest right where those old scars from years ago rest feeling like you dragged back to being held down as the stick carves into your skin burning the flesh raw.

“This is what’s going to happen, when we leave you’re going to go to Tommy and Joel and thank them for all they’ve done and come live with your actual family.” She says her words as a command not leaving any room for discussion, “Do you know how embarrassing it is knowing that my daughter doesn’t want to be with her family like she hates us? Is that it, you hate me so much you’d abandon your father and sister.” She says and you feel a tighten in your chest at her words, the familiar words and demeaning words getting its grip on you.

“That’s not-” “You left Y/n not me. After everything I did to raise you and keep you alive. How do you repay me? By running off and playing family with some people who don’t even know you.” She says releasing her vice grip and standing up.

“Mom stop it,” You say as your father joins her.

“I’m sorry that’s who I am right? I thought that title goes to Maria or do you call Joel or Tommy dad?” She says and your throat tightens at the digs she throws. “Maybe it was a mistake finding you.”

“I’ll go with you!” You grab her arm stopping her from leaving. From letting her abandon you cause of the stupid choices you made. “Please…don’t leave me,” She stops and you shrink at her face when she turns. You really did it this time making her upset. Her hands stroke your cheek and you flinch by instinct. A kiss is placed on your forehead and a single droplet slips from your eyes, you’re not sure she’s ever kissed you. It’s still unnerving by the affection.

“What have I said Y/n about the tears,” She tuts and you quickly rub the tear away sniffling back more. Once she sees them all gone she gives a proud grin, “Alright go run off and let them know of the change. We’ve got placed at the corner of Connors Drive in the blue house.”

It was raining today and most people avoided outside but you mindless walk through the streets to Rancher Street. It was decided to return to Joel’s home where the others would be waiting for the news. Self-doubt crept in if this was a smart idea, just ignore your mother and stay with The Millers and Ellie, but then you would be abandoning your mother and that would kill her. Part of you wanted to run and hide back in your cabin from the world and all those who know you. The familiar home stands before you as you enter the gate your hand tracing the mailbox that reads ‘Joel Miller + Ellie Williams’. Maybe your name could have ended up there. Who are you kidding your mother was right you were only a burden, Joel didn’t need to worry about another person and Tommy and Maria had Liam to take care of.

The door creaks open and those waiting in the living room perk up hearing the sound of the rain outside before the door closes again. Joel had spent the time pacing while the others tried distracting each other but it was hard to. He’s the first to spot you when you round the corner drenched from the rain a conflicted look on your face.

“Kiddo?” Joel starts but you quickly cut him off.

“Thank you guys for everything you’ve done but I going to live with my family now.” You say and you don’t even dare to look at them your eyes glued to your shoes.

“What you can’t!” Ellie stands from the couch still holding Liam and shouts, “You can’t just leave us!”

“I appreciate you taking me in when you could’ve left me in that cell, but I’m done burdening you.” You say and even Tommy who was in the middle ground was shocked by the words coming out of your mouth.

“Burden? Kid, you’re far from that,” Tommy says and you keep your gaze firm away from them.

“You’re not leaving kiddo,” Joel says and for the first time you look at them, “Your reaction to seeing them isn’t how a kid reacts to being reunited with their family, so no you aren’t leaving.”

“You don’t get to make that decision,” You snap glaring at him.

“Y/n she’s not a good mother and you know it,” Maria says and you feel frozen at the callout and everyone else is confused by the sudden comment.

“Shut up,” You hiss shocking them with the sudden hostility and a warning look sent to Maria to keep her mouth shut.

“Wanna tell them who gave them those burns or shall I,” She says, and it's dead silent as it processes through the other three what was just said. Joel was filled with rage, some directed at you for keeping it a secret but primarily at your mother. What woman causes such pain to a child?

“Or how she made you sleep in the cold by a broken radiator, or let you have injuries fester as a child forcing yourself to learn to stitch cuts, treating your garbage and you just defend her,” Maria says with each step towards you and your hands clench in your fists.

“That’s not her,” You respond and Maria scoffs.

“So she didn’t burn you?” She asks and you shake your head.

“No, I did them,” Immediately defensive.

“You’re a liar,” Maria rebuttals, “Y/n I don’t understand why you let her treat you like this. She’s not a good mother.” She tries resting a hand on your shoulder but you smack it away.

“Yes, she is!” You shout your voice shaky until it grows cold, “You don’t get to talk about being a good mother. Where’s your son huh? Some mother you are.” Venom is spat and Maria physically recoils.

“Y/n!” “Hey!” Tommy and Joel shout at you for such a comment, “You’re done, kid. You’re not going back there. I don’t care what they say.” Joel says.

“Fuck you, Joel. You can’t keep me here.” You hiss and he steps forward and grabs your wrist, “If I gotta lock you up until you understand what she’s doing to you then so be it.” It’s instinctually your fist smashes against his face and he cries out and it’s chaos. Joel stumbles back clutching his bloody nose, Ellie is crying with Liam screaming and crying and Maria instantly shields them. Tommy tries to grab you but you dodge his grasp and sprint down the hallway hearing the pounding footsteps behind you, grabbing the bookshelf against the wall and pulling with your strength until it falls over blocking the hallway with a loud crash. Darting into your room where you slam and lock the door hearing the pounding on the door as you shove your dresser to barricade yourself in. Grabbing your pack and shoving anything you can carry.

“Y/n open the damn door!” Tommy shouts and you hear the shouts from Joel, “Fucking kick it down!” As you scramble faster and move to the window hearing a body slamming against the door. The door cracks breaking the lock as it pushes open making the dresser slide, Tommy and Joel spill in seeing the disarray in the room with the open window and the curtains moving in the rain storm.

2 Months Later

It was May the snow long melted but the coldness and tension between yourself and the Miller remains frozen. Since that argument and fight that was the last time you spoke to any of them. You stopped working at the stables from was a hesitant decision but your mother solidified it.

“You’re going to end up running into them and all those emotions will come back,” She said and when you stop showing up to your shifts they got the message and replaced you. Your days consisted of waking up, cleaning the house, taking care of Lila while your mother and father went out to do their community jobs, then just waiting for the day to be over to repeat for the past two months. No one rarely saw you unless you dropped Lila off at the school where you sometimes ran into Ellie but ignored them and rushed back home. There were times your parents would take you out to the Tipsy Bison and you’d see the Millers across the room and they would notice you were there as well, but they never dare approach.

There had been a time when Joel showed up at your home demanding to speak to you and your father answered, the two almost getting into an altercation if Tommy hadn’t dragged his brother home. Now it’s just burning gazes from Joel across the room or when you walk down the street and he happens to be there. When you joined your mother you thought it would be everything you imagine. Being a large happy family but how wrong you are as you are quickly thrust back into the lifestyle you had growing up. Horrible living conditions and little to no acknowledgment from your mother, but it is only once you need to leave those four walls you have to keep up appearances that everything is fine. You lie awake some nights wondering if you made the right choice but quickly shut it down imagining your mother’s voice.

‘You’re such a horrible child how dare you think that.’

‘I’ve done everything for you and this is how you repay me.’

‘The Millers could never treat you as good as I do.’

‘They don’t understand what’s wrong with you only I can take of you’

‘You can’t abandon me, I love you so much.’

You think when she says ‘she loves you’ it feels emptier each time, but you grow to crave it. Just that hit of praise knowing it was so disingenuous but your twisted mind makes you feel like everything was perfect.

The streetlamps flicker as you carry groceries to restock, your mother wanting you to avoid the people in the early times forcing you to be there right as the close inconveniencing those working there who want to go home, especially with the ridiculous list you have. Your pack is like a dead body on your back as you carry another bag slung across your chest constantly hitting your hip with each step wincing at the bruise that rests there. You had gotten her angry and she shoved you, your hip slammed against the island in the kitchen. It was your fault though. You had taken a nap and slept in at the time Lila needed to be picked up from school leading to the teacher having to go find your mother and father out having drinks at the Tipsy Bison.

The fraying strap from the bag snaps and the items and the bag topple onto the floor spilling everywhere. Curses spill from you as you try to pick up everything salvageable. Some items were broken and you already knew the amount of hell you’re gonna be put through.

“Kiddo?” A voice cuts through the night and you hiss as you flinch cutting your left palm on a broken jar of jam. Your gaze snaps up seeing Joel standing at the corner of the street, he has his pack over his back, and also slung over his shoulder is the object you’ve seen him use on the back porch. He spots the red coming from your palm as you squeeze it with your other hand, “Shit you alright kiddo?” He comes over his hand held out and freezes seeing the small flinch as he gets close to you. He lowers down to a knee as you keep clutching your palm to stop the bleeding.

“I’m fine Joel,” You snap but there seems to be no heat behind it, he can see the tiredness in your eyes, dark circles, and a draining look on your face lacking color and warmth. He slowly takes your hand and you don’t have the will to fight him as he looks over it. Pulling out a bandana he wraps your hand in it tightly and you wince.

“Sorry…” He mumbles and you bring your gaze to the destroyed food. “You need to get it properly wrapped it looks pretty deep.” He says and you rise to your feet holding the broken bag.

“It’s fine Joel really.” You try walking away, but the bag isn’t as secure and you almost drop the items, especially holding it with one good hand if Joel hadn’t swept in.

“Lemme just clean it up okay and fix this shitty strap,” He says and you look at him with cautious eyes, “Then I’ll leave you be,” He says honestly. You knew they would start wondering what was taking too long but you also knew it would take longer trying to talk Joel out of it.

“Just be quick.” You say and you almost catch the relaxation on his shoulders relieved you said yes. Joel takes the bag and leads you properly to sit on the curb underneath one of the streetlights. He gets to work removing his pack and the other object placing it beside you as he pulls out a small first aid kit. He undoes the makeshift bandage and you wince at the cut and the blood that starts flowing again.

“Doesn’t look that deep just needs a cleaning and wrapping,” He says pulling out a small bottle and rag, pouring water on it to clean most of the dried blood off. He reveals a smaller bottle and when he pours it on your fresh cut you hiss in pain trying to pull back but he stops you.

“It hurts!” You hiss and he nods.

“Just some alcohol to kill any germs you’re fine,” He says while pulling out bandages and wrapping your hand. You bring your attention elsewhere to the items that rest on the curb it’s an interesting shape with the strings. It looks like hollow on the inside. Joel seems to pick up on your interest.

“It’s a guitar. It’s a kind of instrument that makes music,” He says and you keep your gaze on the guitar. Once finished with your hand he moves to working on your bag. You can’t help to reach over and pluck a string a sweet noise rings through the air and your gaze snaps to Joel who is watching you with a soft smile.

“You press on this part which are the frets in certain positions to make other notes then pluck the respective string.” He says as you pluck another string that is the thickest it's a very low note, “That’s E.” You then move and pluck the thinnest one and it’s much higher.

“That’s also E.”

“How can they both be E?” You frown and he chuckles slightly and rubs the back of his neck,

“Uh, I don’t know they say the thicker E is used for fuller, richer sound, while the thinner E is better for soloing and playing higher notes.” He explains and you nod. You look seeing he’s finished fixing your bag and you accept the fixed item. He seems to hesitate to speak but decides to.

“If you’re interested in learning I can teach you.” He offers and you look from the guitar to Joel who looks a bit nervous. It did seem interesting and something to keep you occupied, but you aren’t sure your mother would allow that.

“I don’t think I can…I just have a lot of stuff to do at home,” You say and he gives a light ‘Right’ and it grows quiet between you too as you sit on the curb where he is beside you.

“Are you happy there?” He asks and you flash him a surprised look and you grow quiet. If this was any other scenario you would have responded instantly but you weren’t sure why you hesitated to.

“I—” “Y/n.” Your father’s voice cuts through the night and you instantly straighten up in concern and also partial fear. Since living with him he never hit you or got physical like your mother, but you just felt an off feeling from him. Sometimes he would make comments that didn’t feel fatherly and the few times you were alone it felt like he was staring at you for a second too long that made your skin crawl.

“Your mother is waiting for you, what the hell are you doing?” He asks coming over as he grasps your bad hand not paying the bandage any mind tugging you to your feet and you wince at the pressure.

“Careful,” Joel warns immediately rising to stand as well catching you wince as you hold your injured hand to your chest.

“She’s fine, now what are you doing wandering the streets?” He asks and you shrink away from his unsettling gaze.

“I ran into her dropping all these items and cut herself, just patching her up is all,” Joel defends you and you watch the two adults stare down each other before your father gives a grin that doesn’t radiate any kindness.

“That’s so kind of you Joel for taking care of my little girl,” He says while wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you to his side and you cringe, “Well we better get going, you have a great night Joel.” He forces you to turn and start walking down the street.

“Y/n!” Joel calls out and you stop to glance behind you, “The offer for the guitar lessons still stands,” He says and you see it in his eyes, he’s giving you a chance to call for help. To do anything that’ll allow him to swoop in with no consequences.

“Thanks but she’s already pretty busy back at home. I’ll be sure to teach her though if she’s so interested.” Your father says and you see Joel’s face morph into a frown his cold look directed to your father.

“Do you know how to play?” He asks and your father stiffens at the callout.

“It’s a guitar it’s not rocket science,” He says and the two have a silent showdown before your father speaks again, “Have a good night, Joel.” He keeps leading you as you glance back seeing Joel’s defeated look standing under the streetlamp his guitar still on the curb.

Where the Wild Things Are Tags

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[prttygirlposts]

mapping out malfoy manor while reviewing the Malfoy legacy !!

front exterior

Fun fact! The iconic shots of Malfoy Manor from the Deathly Hallow movies were actually shots of the real Hardwick Hall in Chesterfield, England. While this could not be the real home of the Malfoys, that is due to location rather than sociability.

Considering the Malfoys were still fraternizing with Muggles during the Elizabethan era (Lucius Malfoy the First was even a suitor for Queen Elizabeth the First) and that Hardwick Hall is an Elizabethan manor, the Malfoys could've bought it out. However; this isn't the case because their land is found in Wiltshire, England.

Since Hardwick Hall is the official shot of the home's exterior, I'll be using it here. Hardwick Hall is most well known for its extravagant windows. Similarly, Malfoy Manor also has these windows.

The fourth picture I have provided is not an overview of Hardwick Hall. It is actually a rendering of the description from the Deathly Hallows book: "They turned right, into a wide driveway that led off the lane. The high hedge curved with them, running off into the distance beyond the pair of impressive wrought-iron gates barring the men's way... the source of the noise proved to be nothing more than a pure-white peacock, stirring majestically along the top of the hedge."

This actually brings me to my little Malfoy theory about the peacocks. In the Goblet of Fire, during the Quidditch World Cup, the golden trio spots a tent with seven albino peacocks milling about: "Halfway up the field stood an extravagant confection of striped silk like a miniature palace, with several live peacocks tethered at the entrance." This is so clearly a Malfoy Easter egg to me, and no one talks about it. My theory is that the peacocks represent extravagance, their albino condition represents purity, and there being seven peacocks (that's an assumption on my part) is supposed to bring good fortune. Hence them being at the Cup, because Lucius was probably betting on the game.

the entrance hallway

The entrance hallway to Malfoy Manor is described in Deathly Hallows for a brief moment: "The hallway was large, dimly lit and sumptuously decorated, with a magnificent carpet covering most of the stone floor. The eyes of the pale-faced portraits on the walls followed Snape and Yaxley as they strode past. The two men halted at a heavy wooden door leading into the next room, hesitated for the space of a heartbeat, then Snape turned the bronze handle."

I actually want to take this section as an opportunity to discuss the Malfoy lineage. Mainly because this is where we see the portraits of former family members and because I imagine the decorations are actually family possessions (I think this since Lucius hid his personal artifacts in the cellar.)

I am going to go chronologically about every Malfoy we know about prior to Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco.

Armand Malfoy - He brought the Malfoy family to England in the 11th century. He came from France as a soldier in the Norman Conquests. He rose to wealth through his connections to King William the first. Armand actually did magical, shady jobs for the king. He stole the Wiltshire property that would expand into Malfoy Manor.

Nicholas Malfoy - He lived in the fourteenth century and he knocked off his muggle adversaries under the guise of the black plague. While it's implied Armand was a murderous Malfoy (with him being apart of the Norman Conquest, him doing "shady" jobs for King William, and him stealing muggle land) Nicholas is the first recorded murderous Malfoy.

Lucius Malfoy the First - He was a possible suitor for Queen Elizabeth the First. He was rumored to have jinxed her when he wasn't chosen.

Brutus Malfoy - He was an editor in the 17th century, anti-muggle periodical "Wizards at War." In the spin off book The Tales of Beedle the Bard, we actually get to see one of his pieces. He wrote, "This we may state with certainty; any wizard who shows fondness for the society of Muggles is of low intelligence, with magic so feeble and pitiful that he can only feel himself superior is surrounded by Muggle pigmen."

Septimus Malfoy - He used the Minister of Magic, Unctuous Osbert as a political pupper in the late 18th century. That relationship mimics the one Lucius and Cornelius Fudge would have many years later.

Abraxas Malfoy - Outside of the family we meet in the books, Abraxas is Malfoy we know the most about. He was Lucius Malfoy the Second's father. According to Draco in the Half-Blood Prince, he was in the slug club ( DM: "Sir, I think you knew my grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy?" HS:  "Yes. I was sorry to hear he had died, although of course it wasn't unexpected, dragon pox at his age...") We also know that he lived a fairly long life and he died of dragon pox. Most criminally, Abraxas was known for being involved in forcing the first muggle-born Magical Minister to step down early.

You might've noticed there aren't any Malfoy women mentioned. It's a shame that they don't have any descriptions. Though, with the amount of portraits mentioned, it's likely their paintings are present in the Malfoy household.

the drawing room

In Deathly Hallows there's two descriptions of the drawing room- one from the meeting where Professor Burbage is murdered and one where Harry is kidnapped by the snatchers. They go as follows:

"The drawing room was full of silent people, sitting at a long and ornate table...Illumination came from a roasting fire beneath a handsome marble mantelpiece surmounted by a gilded mirror."

"The drawing room dazzled... Harry could make out the wide proportions of the room. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceilings, more portraits against purple walls."

This brings me to the green ick I have. Everything with the Malfoys is dark green in fan media. Please guys they had a drawing room with purple walls. Also, I think it's interesting that purple was chosen. Purple is the color of royalty, so of course the Malfoys have it in their home.

Then there's this mirror. It's brought up multiple times, which leads me to think it's pretty damn noticeable. Almost like a centerpiece. Knowing the Malfoys and Lucius's interest in dark artifacts, I believe this mirror to be a magical heirloom. Mirrors are actually spiritual veils in traditional witchcraft, and in HP we see mirrors/glass be used as magical tools twice. Once with the Mirror of Erised and again with the glass the Marauders used as a communication device. It's just a headcanon, take it or leave it.

There's also a description of the marble fireplace under that mirror. When the death eaters aren't meeting, there are chairs set next to it. Apparently it's big enough to illuminate the entire drawing room when lit. Actually, it's big enough for Lucius to be stupefied into the hearth. This leads me to believe the drawing room used to be a lot cozier. Which makes sense, considering how much schmoozing this family does. A drawing room is where you entertain guests, and if you want the Minister to be in your pocket you want the drawing room to be comfortable. In conclusion, this drawing room was nice before Voldemort over took it.

Finally, I included a picture of a pine organ because I swear I read something about one being featured in the drawing room. I can't find it, but I know I saw someone say that. I'm still including it, because it makes perfect sense to me. Like yeah, these people have a pine wood, pipe organ.

Narcissa's bedroom

These three bedrooms are a complete, self-indulgent headcanon intermission, but I will include fun facts about the characters.

Narcissa- the queen- is up first. I do think Lucius and Narcissa have their own rooms. I mean they were an arranged marriage, neither of them slept well (due to the first war), and they seem like two people who need their space.

Narcissa's room would be a cross between who she was as the youngest Black sister (star themes, moody lights, and fancy mirrors) and who she is now as the Malfoy queen (feminine colors, indulgent decorations, and luxurious furniture.)

I do think the Malfoys are a mirror to the Blacks. They are both extremely powerful families, but they go about it differently. The Black family is strict- hardened by centuries of discipline. Every action must align with their motto, "always pure." Meanwhile, the Malfoy family motto is, "purity will always conquer." Malfoy's are less strict because they have the mindset that they'll come out on top no matter what. Narcissa is brought to a strange intersection: continue to survive or begin to live. You can see that in her bedroom.

The room is always filled with flowers/candy because Lucius's love language is gift giving.

She keeps Draco's baby pictures in golden, floral frames on her vanity. It embarreses him terribly.

She has a piano in her room. The pine organ in the drawing room is actually for her. She's a very skilled musician and loves to play.

Sirius took the enchanted, communication mirror idea from his cousins. It makes sense the Black Sisters would find a way to speak to one another when Bella went to Hogwarts. Narcissa has a compact mirror (with a narcissus flower on it) that used to be a communication device. She keeps it in her nightstand drawers. On harsh days, she opens it and hopes she'll catch a glance of Andromeda.

Lucius's bedroom

I'll save my Lucius/bird metaphor ramble for another post, but his room is filled with bird motifs.

His room is surprisingly simple compared to the rest of the Manor. He has a smaller bed, coffee mugs/shot glasses laying about, and books falling off their shelves.

Part of it is rebellion and another part of it is entitlement. His room is simple as a stark rebellion against his forefathers. He's not brave enough to give up all his riches, but those riches bar him from individuality. Lucius will never be his own person: just another blonde snake. So, his room abstains from the typical Malfoy luxury. Then, it's always a wreck because he assumes someone will clean up behind him (poor Dobby).

Contrary to popular belief, I do think Lucius was a loving father. He definitely wasn't a perfect father, but he did love Draco. So, I think his room is filled with presents from Draco and pictures of him.

He's also the type of parent who keeps all of Draco's achievements in files. Best junior seeker certificate from summer camp? Yeah he's got it on standby.

His windows are open- no matter the weather. Closed windows make him feel claustrophobic. He only closes the windows when he sleeps.

He also closes the curtains when he sleeps. He's a bit paranoid. He's got a lot of enemies.

Boring ministry paperwork is everywhere. Not only do his superiors pay him to commit shady crimes, they also pay him to do their paperwork. He hates it. He'd rather be black mailing a political figure.

Draco's bedroom

Draco's bedroom has really cool dragon wallpaper. Get it? Draco is latin for dragon (under-rated symbol for him).

I do think his favorite color is green. His room is covered in dark greens. He thinks it makes him look more refined.

That's also why there are no posters on his wall. He used to have quidditch posters all over his room, but Pansy made fun of them. Now, if he puts something on his walls, it's displayed on a shelf or it's framed. It's also always something he can brag about too- like a trophy or signed quaffle.

Malfoy Manor is the hangout house, so Draco keeps food in his room. There's a bowl of apples on his dresser, a jar of sweets on his nightstand, and an enchanted cabinet that acts as a mini fridge for butterbeer. All of this storage becomes handy when the death eaters take over the manor. He doesn't have to leave his room as much.

Additionally there is a bathroom connected to his room.

You're telling me this rich kid came out this dramatically and doesn't have a balcony to sit at? You're wrong. The balcony is also where he and Pansy gossip. Many rumors were planned up there.

SImilar to Narcissa, his room is also filled with presents. His lean more towards clothes and colognes though. Lucius just loves buying stuff.

I want to emphasize how spoiled he is, so Draco has a fireplace. However; he didn't originally have a fireplace. He wanted one when he was twelve. He mentioned it during winter break. By summer break, there was a fully functional fireplace in his bedroom. He adored it, by the way.

the gardens

Alright, headcanons are over. Kinda? We know there is a large garden surrounding Malfoy Manor, but we don't know a lot about its contents.

We can assume this is where the peacocks reside. There is probably a small barn/coop for them.

To go into full imagination territory, I also think there are more birds in this garden. I mean beautiful quails and swans- just to exaggerate their wealth.

I am going to say there is a small apple orchard in the gardens. I mean Draco always has one in the films, so I'm guessing they have some significance to the family. Maybe a fruit of knowledge situation? Regardless, I think Draco always has a full supply, because he gets sent apples from the garden.

The Malfoys clearly have a thing for collecting artifacts. I don't think the garden is excluded from that. Perhaps a lot of statues of former Malfoys (particularly the women/children, which I'll explain in a later post).

This is a headcanon I will not budge on. The Malfoys have a family cemetery deep in the garden. I mean it's a while away, and it's hidden. It is a very off-putting place and a breeding ground for dark magic.

Okay, time for my favorite fun fact. Are you ready? There was going to be a scene of Draco and Theodore Nott talking in the Malfoy gardens, but it got cut.

This is from a post on JK's old website (It's okay! She can't hurt you on this blog! It's just a source!): "However, in this scene Theodore's father (the same Nott who was badly injured in the closing chapters of 'Order of the Phoenix') goes to visit Lucius Malfoy to discuss Voldemort-related business and we see Draco and Theodore alone in the garden having a talk of their own. I really liked the scene, firstly because it showed the Malfoys' home, and the difference between the place where Draco has grown up and number four, Privet Drive; then because we rarely see Draco talking to anybody he considers a real equal, and he is forced to see Theodore as such, because Theodore is just as pure-blooded as he is, and somewhat cleverer. Together these two Death Eaters' sons discuss Dumbledore's regime at Hogwarts and Harry Potter, with all sorts of stories that the Death Eaters tell about how this baby boy survived the Dark Lord's attack."

That is really interesting to me. There's just this whole other side of the story that happened, but we don't get to witness it. I might write it out one day.

This took forever to make. If you read all the way through, thank you. I did cut a few rooms, so I might make a part two. I was just ready to get this out into the world. Please, please reblog/comment your thoughts or headcanons. This is my favorite topic in the whole world. I am so interested in the Malfoys. Thank you again for reading!!

[niallerspayno]

Be My Baby Daddy (Niall x reader) - Fic Request

Masterlist

Request for @pansexualdarling: As longtime best friends, you and Niall have always been there for each other. But when your desire for a child leads you to ask him to be the father, everything changes. As Niall considers your request, buried feelings surface, making you both realise this could be more than just a shared dream of parenthood—it could be the start of something deeper.

Tags: Niall x reader, friends to lovers, angst and fluff, smut at the end

...

You sit curled up on the couch, a half-empty glass of wine balanced precariously on the armrest, your phone in hand as you absently swipe through a dating app. Another face flashes onto the screen—generic smile, unoriginal bio, no spark. With a sigh, you swipe left. Again. And again.

The faint sound of your TV fills the quiet of the room, a mix of laughter and sentimental music pulling your gaze up for a moment. An ad is playing—a mother kneeling on the floor, helping her toddler take wobbly steps as they both laugh, eyes shining. Something about it catches you off guard, and for a moment, you just watch, your chest tightening in a way that feels all too familiar lately.

You’ve always wanted that—family, a child, that kind of unshakable bond. But here you are, sitting alone in your flat, glass of wine in hand, and no closer to it than you were years ago. The dating app isn’t helping. And waiting for the “right person” to magically appear? That seems like a gamble you’re losing.

Placing your wine down, you pick up your laptop, the thought taking root almost before you can fully process it.

What if there’s another way?

Your fingers hover over the keyboard for a moment before you type the words: IVF process for single women. You scroll through the search results, reading about sperm banks, donor profiles, success rates, and costs. Another search leads to adoption, the logistics and timelines stretching longer than you imagined.

The options blur together as the thought deepens—sure, it’s possible. But something about each of them feels... impersonal. Anonymous. You can’t picture yourself choosing a name from a list, a face from a profile, trusting that this stranger will make up half of your child.

The glass of wine lingers on your lips as you lean back, lost in thought. And then it hits you. Someone constant, someone safe. Someone who’s been there for every milestone and heartbreak, cheering you on from the sidelines. Someone you trust with your whole heart.

Niall.

It’s absurd, isn’t it? The idea feels almost too wild to entertain. But as you sit there, images flash through your mind—Niall’s easy laugh, the way he always shows up for you, his natural warmth around kids. And let’s be honest, he’s got those unfairly good genes.

The longer you think about it, the less absurd it seems. You set your glass down and close your laptop, the weight of the decision settling in. You don’t just want to be a mother. You want to do this with someone you trust. And the only name that keeps coming to mind is his.

...

You pace the living room, heart pounding as you rehearse the conversation for what feels like the hundredth time. This isn’t something you can just blurt out—it has to be said carefully. Even then, you’re not entirely sure how Niall will take it.

The knock at the door jolts you from your thoughts. You take a deep breath, smoothing your hands over your jeans before opening it.

“Hey, you,” Niall says with a smile, stepping inside. His brunette hair peeks out from under a navy beanie, and his blue eyes are warm as ever. “You alright? You sounded kinda serious on the phone.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you say, stepping aside to let him in. You take his coat and hang it up as he toes off his shoes.

He glances at you, a hint of concern flickering across his face. “Serious enough to need wine?” he jokes, trying to lighten the mood.

You laugh softly, nodding. “Definitely a wine conversation.”

He heads to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle and two glasses without needing to ask where anything is. You follow him, sitting at the counter as he pours.

“So, what’s on your mind?” he asks, sliding a glass toward you and leaning against the counter, glass in hand.

You take a sip, gathering your courage. “Okay, this might sound a little crazy, but… I’ve been thinking about having a baby.”

His eyes widen slightly, but he doesn’t interrupt.

“And I mean on my own,” you continue, rushing to explain. “I’ve looked into it—IVF, adoption, everything. I know it’s unconventional, but I’m at this point in my life where I just… I don’t want to wait anymore.”

He nods slowly, his expression thoughtful. “I get that. You’d be a great mum, you know. And if anyone can handle doing it on their own, it’s you.”

His easy, supportive tone loosens the knot in your chest, but you know you’re not done yet. You set your glass down and fiddle with the stem, avoiding his gaze.

“Thanks,” you say softly. “But… that’s not the whole reason I wanted to talk to you.”

He tilts his head, his brow furrowing slightly. “Alright. What’s the rest of it?”

“I’ve done a lot of research,” you say, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. “And the idea of a random donor just… doesn’t sit right with me. I want to do this with someone I trust. Someone I know will be there no matter what.”

You pause, and his gaze sharpens slightly, like he’s starting to put the pieces together.

“And that someone,” you continue, your voice barely above a whisper, “is you.”

Niall’s glass freezes halfway to his lips. He sets it down carefully, blinking at you. “Me?”

“Yeah,” you say, rushing to fill the silence. “You’re my best friend, Niall. You’ve always been there for me, and I know you’d be an amazing dad. I’m not asking for a relationship or anything complicated—I’d handle the day-to-day stuff. I just… I trust you more than anyone else in my life. And I think this could work.”

He leans back against the counter, running a hand through his hair. For a moment, the room feels heavy with unspoken words.

“That’s… wow,” he finally says, letting out a breathy laugh. “You don’t do anything halfway, do you?”

You can’t tell if he’s joking or deflecting, and your stomach twists. “If it’s too much—”

“Hey, no,” he cuts in, holding up a hand. “It’s not that. It’s just… a lot to think about, you know? I mean, this isn’t exactly something you drop into a casual conversation.”

You nod, your throat tightening. “I know. I don’t need an answer right now. I just… I had to ask.”

He’s quiet for another moment before pushing off the counter and stepping closer, resting a hand on your shoulder. “Let me think about it, yeah?”

Relief washes over you, even if it’s not a yes. “Yeah. Of course.”

“Alright,” he says with a small smile, squeezing your shoulder. “And hey, no matter what, you know I’ve got your back, yeah?”

You nod, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Yeah. I know.”

...

Later, the two of you are sprawled on the couch, a movie playing quietly in the background. Niall has his legs stretched out, one arm draped over the back of the couch, while you sit cross-legged on the other side, your wine glass resting on the coffee table.

You steal a glance at him, watching as he absentmindedly twirls the stem of his glass between his fingers. He’s relaxed, but you can tell his mind is still turning.

“So,” he says finally, breaking the comfortable silence. “Can I ask… why now? I mean, I get it, but… what brought this on?”

You let out a small laugh, looking down at your hands. “Honestly? A combination of things. I was scrolling through some dating app the other night, and it just hit me how… stuck I feel. Like, I’m not meeting anyone, and even if I did, who knows how long it’d take to get to the point where having a family is even an option? And then I saw this ad on TV—it was one of those sappy ones with a mum and her kid—and it just… I don’t know. It made me realize how much I want that.”

He nods, his gaze softening as he listens. “Yeah, I get that. Life doesn’t exactly wait around, does it?”

“Exactly,” you say, leaning back against the cushions. “And the more I thought about it, the more I realized I don’t want to wait anymore. I’m ready, you know? I want to be a mum. I want to have that kind of love in my life.”

There’s a pause, and you glance at him hesitantly. “What about you? Do you ever think about having kids?”

“Sometimes,” he admits, taking a sip of his wine. “Not in the ‘I’m ready right now’ kind of way, but… yeah. I want kids someday. Always have.”

His honesty makes your chest ache a little, but you push the feeling aside.

“So, if you’re doing this,” he continues, shifting slightly to face you, “how’s it all gonna work? Like… what’s the plan?”

You shrug, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ve been looking into clinics, and there’s a lot to figure out. It’s not exactly cheap, but I’ve been saving for a while. And I’d need to go through some screenings, but after that, it’s just about timing. If it all goes smoothly, I could be pregnant within a few months.”

His brow furrows slightly. “You’ve really thought this through, haven’t you?”

“I had to,” you say with a small smile. “This isn’t the kind of thing you just dive into without a plan. I know it’s not gonna be easy, but I’m ready for that.”

He leans his head back against the couch, looking at you with something unreadable in his expression. “You’re brave, you know that?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I don’t know about that. Desperate, maybe. Determined, definitely.”

“Brave,” he insists, his voice softer now. “This is a big deal, and you’re going after it. That takes guts.”

The warmth in his tone makes your cheeks flush, and you look away, focusing on the movie for a moment.

“Thanks, Niall,” you say quietly.

He smiles, reaching over to nudge your knee with his foot. “Always.”

...

After a quiet drive home, Niall’s head is spinning. The conversation with you has replayed in his mind a thousand times on the way back, but now, as he steps inside his flat, it’s like it’s all just hitting him at once.

He places his keys on the counter, kicking off his shoes, and heads straight for the couch. He grabs his phone, scrolling through his contacts before landing on Liam’s name.

A few rings and Liam picks up. “Oi, mate, what’s up?”

“Hey,” Niall starts, sinking into the couch, his mind racing. “I… I need to talk to you about something. It’s a bit heavy, though.”

Liam’s tone shifts immediately. “Yeah, course. You alright?”

Niall hesitates, fingers drumming nervously against his phone case. “Well, I’m not sure. It’s about… Y/N)”

Liam’s voice softens. “Oh? What’s going on with her?”

Niall takes a deep breath, leaning back and staring at the ceiling. “She—she wants a baby, man.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line. “Right,” Liam says slowly, clearly unsure where this is going. “Okay. But you’re saying...?”

“I’m saying she wants to do it herself,” Niall says, feeling the words come out in a rush. “But—she asked me to be the father.”

A heavy silence follows, and Niall’s mind flashes to the look in your eyes, the hope, the trust you placed in him.

“Oh shit,” Niall mutters under his breath, the realisation settling in. “I’ve actually been in love with her for a while, and now she wants my baby.”

Liam lets out a long breath. “Jesus, mate, that’s… that’s a lot to take in.”

“You don’t think I know that?” Niall replies, a little more defensively than he means to. “I don’t know what to do. I thought I’d had it all figured out, but now I’m… I’m kind of freaked out.”

Liam is quiet for a moment, and when he speaks, his voice is steady. “Niall, I’ve been co-parenting Bear with Cheryl for a while now, so I get it. I know how much of a commitment it is. It’s not just about the physical side of things—it’s about being there, being present, day in and day out. Are you ready for that?”

The question hits Niall hard, and he closes his eyes, thinking it over. The idea of being a dad, especially with someone like you—someone he’s always cared about, someone he’s always wanted more with—it feels like it could be the best thing in the world. But the weight of it still lingers.

“I don’t know,” Niall admits, rubbing his face with his hand. “I mean, it’s Y/N, you know? I’ve always loved her in a way, but this is… different. I’ve never thought about actually being a dad. But I want to be there for her. I want to make sure she’s okay. I don’t want to let her down.”

Liam’s voice is softer now. “You’ve gotta figure out if you’re ready for it, mate. It’s a huge thing. But if you think you can handle it, and if she trusts you enough to ask you… that says a lot. Don’t rush it, though. Take your time.”

“Yeah,” Niall says, nodding even though Liam can’t see him. “I know. I just—I didn’t expect it to be this complicated.”

“You never do,” Liam replies with a laugh. “But whatever you decide, just make sure you’re doing it for the right reasons. And, uh, I think you’re gonna need to be honest with her about your feelings. That’ll be the real kicker.”

Niall’s heart races at the thought. He’s never been good at expressing how he feels, especially when it comes to you. But he knows Liam’s right. He can’t let this go on without addressing it.

“Thanks, mate,” Niall says, his voice quieter now. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem, mate. You’ve got this. Just take your time, yeah?”

“Yeah, I will.”

As Niall hangs up, the weight of the conversation lingers, but so does the feeling of possibility. The idea of a future with you—of starting something new and real—flickers in his mind. Maybe this is the beginning of something bigger than either of them ever expected.

...

The next day, Niall shows up at your door, and the moment you open it, you can tell he’s been thinking about your conversation all night. His blue eyes are a little more intense than usual, and there’s a slight nervous energy about him, but he’s trying his best to mask it with a casual smile.

“Hey,” he says, stepping inside. “You good?”

You nod, trying to keep the nervous excitement in check. “Yeah, just… thinking about everything.”

“Yeah, me too,” he admits, closing the door behind him. He takes a breath, glancing around the room before focusing back on you. “So… I’ve been thinking about it, and… I want to do it. I’ll help you.”

The words hit you like a wave, and you blink, trying to process. “Wait—really?”

“Yeah. I mean, I think we’ve both been through a lot, and I trust you more than anyone. You’re right—I can’t imagine doing this with anyone else either.” His voice is steady, but there’s an underlying tension in his words that makes your heart race.

“Thank you,” you say softly, stepping closer. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“I know,” Niall responds, his smile genuine, though there’s still something guarded in the way he holds himself. He runs a hand through his hair, then clears his throat. “So, I guess we should start figuring out the next steps, yeah? Like fertility clinics and all that stuff?”

You nod eagerly, leading him to the couch where you’ve gathered a few notes and research on the process. “I’ve been looking into places, and there’s a few I think we could visit. I want to make sure everything is in place before we move forward. And…” You pause, glancing at him. “If you’re still okay with the idea of being involved, you know, after the baby’s born, I’d want to have that clear too.”

Niall’s eyes flicker, and for a moment, you catch a glimpse of something in his expression—something that seems more personal, more vulnerable—but just as quickly, it’s gone. He nods, his smile slipping back into place. “Yeah, of course. I’ll be around, no matter what.”

You start going through some of the options you’ve researched, making notes as you talk through the process. Niall listens intently, asking questions when he needs to, but the whole time, he’s quiet, distracted, his mind clearly still wrestling with the weight of everything.

You finish explaining a few potential clinics, and he leans back on the couch, crossing his arms. “Alright, so we’ve got a plan. And we’ll figure out the rest as we go. Just… don’t want you to feel like you’re on your own with this. I’ll be there for you.”

You smile at him, feeling a swell of affection and gratitude. “Thank you. I know this isn’t easy, but I’m really glad you’re doing this with me.”

Niall shifts uncomfortably, his expression softening for a brief second, but his eyes quickly dart away. He stands up and grabs his jacket. “I should probably head off. Got a bit of stuff to think through, you know?”

You frown slightly. “Of course. Thanks again for coming over.”

“Anytime,” he says quickly, offering you a smile before he leaves, but as the door shuts behind him, you can’t shake the feeling that something’s changed. He’s agreed to help you, but there’s a distance between you now that wasn’t there before.

Little do you know, Niall’s mind is a whirlwind of his own. He walks down the hallway, his heart pounding in his chest. What had started as a simple gesture of support had somehow shifted into something much deeper—something he’s been trying to ignore for years.

He can’t let you know, though. He can’t risk ruining the friendship you’ve built, especially now, when everything’s about to change. So, he buries the feelings down, deep where they won’t see the light of day.

But deep down, Niall knows one thing for sure: his life has already been turned upside down.

…

The following week, Niall and the reader find themselves standing outside a fertility clinic, the hum of traffic and distant chatter only adding to the strange sense of unease hanging between them. The sterile, intimidating building feels like a stark contrast to the easygoing friendship they’ve always shared. It’s suddenly very real—this big step they’ve decided to take together.

You glance at Niall as he leans against the car, running a hand through his now-brown hair, a nervous smile on his face that barely hides his anxiety.

“You good?” you ask, offering a playful grin, even though you both know it’s a loaded question.

He exhales dramatically, glancing over at you. “Well, you’re the one who needs a sample today, not me, so… yeah, I think I’m good,” he teases, but his voice is a little too high-pitched, making you snicker.

“You’re not wrong,” you laugh, but there’s a warmth behind it. “I’m the one who doesn’t have to deal with… well, whatever you’re about to deal with.”

Niall looks at you, eyebrows raised. “You’re not gonna make fun of me when I come out looking all flustered, are you?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you reply with a wink.

He chuckles, but there’s a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. “Right. Sure. I’ll be back in a bit then.”

You watch him walk off with the nurse, trying not to think too hard about the fact that he’s about to do something incredibly awkward for the first time—especially when it’s for your baby.

As you sit in the waiting room, the minutes seem to stretch into hours. You tap your foot, trying to distract yourself from the feeling of anticipation in the air. The very idea of the process, and what it could mean, makes your stomach flip. But there’s also a strange calm, knowing you have Niall by your side.

Finally, when he returns, Niall walks through the door looking slightly… off. His cheeks are a little flushed, and there’s a slightly dazed look in his eyes that makes your heart skip a beat.

“So…” you begin, trying to sound casual, “How was it? Did they at least provide a comfy chair, or was it as awkward as we all know it had to be?”

Niall clears his throat, his usual easy smile replaced with something more sheepish. “Oh, it was… let’s just say, I never thought I’d be in a room with, uh, so many… distractions,” he says, his voice a little strained. He avoids making eye contact with you, focusing on his shoes instead.

You raise an eyebrow, not missing the way he’s trying to cover up his awkwardness. “Distractions?” you ask, a teasing grin forming on your lips. “What kind of distractions are we talking about, Niall?”

He looks up at you, flustered now. “Not the kind you think, alright? Just… a lot of pressure, alright? Not like I’ve had much practice at this… under these conditions.”

Your teasing smile softens, but you can’t help but laugh. “I mean, I’m sure you did great. You’ve had a lifetime of practice in some other… areas.”

“Don’t make me blush, please,” he groans, dragging his hand down his face. “You’re gonna give me a complex.”

You chuckle and nudge him gently with your elbow. “I’m just saying, it’s not the worst thing in the world. And you’re helping me with something huge. So, props to you.”

Niall rubs the back of his neck, still flustered. “Yeah, well… I’m gonna need some serious therapy after this,” he mutters, but the playful tone in his voice says it’s all in good fun.

The nurse enters with a folder, giving them both a quick update. “Everything looks good,” she says, before continuing with the usual post-procedure instructions.

As she leaves, Niall lets out a long breath, leaning back in his chair. “So, uh, yeah. That was… something. Glad it’s over,” he says, his voice lighter now but still slightly strained.

You grin at him, clearly enjoying the playful awkwardness of the situation. “Well, I’m not exactly jumping up and down in excitement either. But at least we’re one step closer, right?”

“Yeah, one step closer to you having my kid. Fantastic.” He laughs, but there’s a slight undercurrent of seriousness to it. You catch the look in his eyes—the briefest moment of something unspoken between you.

The nurse comes back with final paperwork to sign, and you both fill it out with a new sense of urgency, as if this moment is suddenly a turning point. Niall’s attention is elsewhere, distracted, and you notice that he’s still avoiding your gaze, almost as if he’s processing something a lot bigger than just the procedure.

You both walk out of the clinic together, Niall falling into step beside you but keeping a few paces of distance—like there’s an invisible line he’s unsure of crossing.

“You alright?” you ask, glancing up at him.

“Yeah,” Niall replies, his voice quieter. “It’s just… a lot, you know? I didn’t expect to feel weird about it, but here we are.”

You nod, understanding. “Yeah, me neither. But we’re doing this together. And that means more to me than you know.”

Niall glances at you, a flicker of something in his eyes, but then it’s gone just as quickly. “Right. Together.”

The walk back to your place is quiet, but there’s a new layer to your friendship now—something both exciting and unnerving. You can feel the tension simmering just below the surface, and you’re not sure if it’s the shared experience, the awkwardness of it all, or something deeper you’re both avoiding.

Before you know it, you’re standing in front of your door, the moment hanging between you.

“Thanks again, Niall. For everything,” you say softly, your heart a little heavier than before.

He smiles at you, his eyes warm but guarded. “Anytime. Just, uh, maybe don’t ask me to go through that again, yeah?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I promise, no repeat performances.”

With one last glance, Niall walks away, leaving you standing in the doorway, still feeling the weight of what’s just begun, but also the flicker of something that neither of you are ready to face yet.

…

The next day the two of you are sprawled across your couch, a pizza box open on the coffee table and a random rom-com playing in the background. Niall is half-watching, half-scrolling on his phone, while you’re sipping on a glass of wine, feeling more relaxed than you’ve been in days.

“Honestly,” Niall says, gesturing toward the TV with a slice of pizza in hand, “if someone pulled that big, cheesy airport stunt for me, I’d probably just laugh and walk the other way. Too much drama.”

You laugh, nudging his leg with your foot. “Oh, please. You’d eat it up. You’d be the one sobbing while the whole airport claps.”

Niall grins, pretending to wipe a fake tear from his eye. “Fine. Maybe I’d shed one single tear. But only if they brought a guitar and serenaded me.”

Before you can reply, your phone buzzes on the table. You glance at the screen, recognizing the number from the clinic, and suddenly your heart is in your throat.

“It’s them,” you say, sitting up straighter.

Niall lowers his slice of pizza, watching you with a mix of curiosity and concern. “Go on, answer it,” he says, his voice softer now.

You press the phone to your ear. “Hello?”

“Hi, this is Sarah from the clinic,” the cheerful voice greets you. “I wanted to let you know that we’ve reviewed all the tests and timelines, and everything looks great! Mr. Horan’s sample is excellent, and your ovulation is right on track. We’d recommend coming in tomorrow for insemination before the ovulation window closes.”

Your stomach flips, and for a moment, all you can manage is a breathless, “Oh.”

“Will tomorrow morning work for you?” the nurse asks, oblivious to the storm of emotions suddenly swirling inside you.

“Uh, yes, that works,” you manage to say, glancing at Niall, who’s now watching you intently, his phone abandoned on the couch beside him. “Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You hang up and place the phone back on the table, staring at it as if it might ring again.

“Well?” Niall prompts, leaning forward, his brow furrowed slightly. “What’d they say?”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “They said… everything looks good. Your, um… your sample was perfect.”

“Well, obviously,” he says with a playful smirk, trying to lighten the mood. But there’s a tightness in his voice, and you don’t miss the way his knee starts bouncing nervously.

“And,” you continue, your voice softer now, “I’m ovulating. They want me to come in tomorrow for the procedure.”

Niall freezes for a moment, his smirk fading. “Tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” You nod, fiddling with the edge of your sleeve. “It’s all happening so fast, isn’t it?”

“Fast? Nah, it’s… yeah, it’s fast,” he admits, running a hand through his hair. He leans back against the couch, staring at the ceiling. “I mean, it’s great news. That’s what we wanted, right?”

You tilt your head, studying him. “You sure you’re okay with this?”

“Course I am,” he says quickly, but there’s an edge to his voice that gives him away. “It’s just… tomorrow. That’s, uh, soon.”

You offer a small smile, trying to ease the tension. “Yeah, it’s soon. But that’s the point, right? Timing is everything with this.”

“Right,” he murmurs, his fingers tapping restlessly on the armrest.

The room falls quiet for a moment, the sound of the movie fading into the background. You can tell he’s in his head, and for the first time, you wonder if this is harder for him than he’s letting on.

“Hey,” you say softly, reaching out to place your hand on his arm. “If this is too much, you can tell me, you know. We don’t have to do this if you’re not ready.”

He looks at you then, his blue eyes searching yours. “It’s not that,” he says after a moment, his voice barely above a whisper. “I want to do this. For you.”

You nod, feeling a lump form in your throat. “Thank you, Niall. For everything. I don’t think I could do this without you.”

His gaze lingers on you for a beat too long, something unspoken passing between you. Then he clears his throat and shifts back, forcing a smile. “Well, I hope they give us a discount since I’m providing top-quality goods.”

You laugh, grateful for the levity. “I’ll ask them tomorrow. Maybe they’ll throw in a loyalty card for repeat donors.”

He chuckles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. As the night wears on, the usual ease between you feels slightly strained, the reality of what’s coming tomorrow hanging heavy in the air.

When he leaves later that night, he lingers in the doorway, his hand gripping the edge of the frame as if he’s about to say something important. But then he just gives you a small smile, leaning in to kiss your cheek before heading out.

You close the door, leaning against it with a mix of excitement and apprehension swirling in your chest.

Meanwhile, as Niall walks to his car, his mind is racing again. Oh shit. I’ve actually been in love with her for a while, and now she wants my baby.

The thought hits him like a punch to the gut, but he pushes it aside. He made a promise to you, and he’s not about to let his feelings mess that up. Not now.

…

The drive to the clinic the next morning is quiet, the weight of the day ahead settling over both of you. Niall’s hands grip the steering wheel a little tighter than usual, his knuckles pale against the leather.

When he pulls into the parking lot and shifts the car into park, he doesn’t turn off the engine right away. Instead, he leans back in his seat, staring out the windshield as if lost in thought.

“You okay?” you ask, your voice soft but tinged with curiosity.

He exhales deeply, finally turning to look at you. His blue eyes are intense, filled with something you can’t quite place.

“I need to say something,” he begins, his voice low and a little shaky.

Your stomach flips. “Okay…”

He hesitates, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I’ve been thinking about all of this—about us, about what we’re about to do—and I can’t keep pretending anymore.”

“Pretending?” you echo, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice growing firmer. “Pretending that I’m just fine with being your best friend. Pretending that’s all I’ve ever wanted to be.”

“Niall…”

He shakes his head, cutting you off. “Let me get this out, yeah? I’ve been in love with you for years. And I’ve been too much of an idiot—or maybe just too scared—to tell you. Because what if you didn’t feel the same? What if I lost you?” He swallows hard, his gaze locking on yours. “But now, you’re asking me to help you have a baby, and I can’t stop thinking about how much I want this. Not just for you, but with you. I want you, all of it—us, a family, everything.”

Your breath catches in your throat, his words hitting you like a tidal wave. For a moment, you can’t speak, and his face falters slightly, like he’s bracing himself for rejection.

But then you reach out, your hand finding his, your voice barely above a whisper. “Niall, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”

He blinks, his brow furrowing. “Wait… what?”

“I’ve loved you for so long,” you admit, your cheeks flushing. “But I thought you only saw me as your best friend. I didn’t want to risk ruining what we had.”

His eyes widen, a disbelieving laugh escaping him. “You’re serious? You love me?”

“Yes, Niall,” you say, smiling through the tears that are threatening to spill. “I love you.”

Relief washes over his face, his smile bright and unrestrained. “Oh, thank God,” he breathes, leaning forward to cup your face in his hands.

Before you can say another word, he closes the distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that’s soft at first, then deepens with years of unspoken feelings pouring into it. It’s everything you’ve ever imagined and more, leaving you breathless when he finally pulls back.

His forehead rests against yours as he chuckles softly, his voice warm and playful now. “So, uh, I know we’ve got this whole clinic plan and all… but if you want my baby, love, I can think of a much more natural way to make that happen.”

Your laugh is loud and sudden, breaking the tension and making him grin. “Seriously, Niall? You confess your love and go straight to that?”

“What can I say?” he teases, winking at you. “I’m a man of efficiency.”

You roll your eyes, though your smile doesn’t falter. “Let’s just see how today goes before you start making alternative plans, yeah?”

“Fair enough,” Niall says with a smirk, but there’s a softness in his eyes now, a warmth that wasn’t there before.

Hand in hand, the two of you step into the clinic, the cool air-conditioning hitting you as you approach the front desk. The receptionist greets you with a polite smile, but the sterile smell of disinfectant and the faint hum of machinery in the background make your stomach twist uncomfortably.

As you sit in the waiting area, filling out paperwork, the fluorescent lights seem too bright, the chairs too stiff. Niall, ever the observer, notices the way your fingers drum against the clipboard and the tight line of your mouth.

“You okay?” he whispers, leaning closer.

You force a smile, glancing around the stark white walls. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… doesn’t feel very, I don’t know, personal.”

His brow furrows, and he looks around too. “Yeah, it’s a bit cold, isn’t it? Not exactly what you’d picture when you’re trying to start a family.”

You nod, exhaling slowly. “I guess I just thought it would feel… different. More hopeful, less like a medical procedure.”

Niall watches you for a moment, his brow furrowing thoughtfully. Then, in his usual fashion, he stands up abruptly, holding out his hand.

“Come on,” he says firmly.

“What?” you ask, blinking up at him.

“We’re leaving,” he replies with conviction, his hand still extended.

“But… the appointment…” You glance around the waiting room, the clipboard in your lap, and then back to him.

“Love, listen to me,” he says gently, crouching in front of you now so you’re at eye level. “This doesn’t feel right, does it? You deserve something better than this—something real, something us. Not this cold, clinical rubbish.”

You hesitate, his words settling over you like a warm blanket. And then you realize he’s right. This wasn’t how you wanted it to feel.

Slowly, you place your hand in his, letting him pull you to your feet.

As you step out into the sunshine, leaving the clinic behind, you feel lighter. There’s a strange sense of freedom in the decision, though your heart still races at the uncertainty ahead.

Niall unlocks the car and opens the passenger door for you, waiting until you’re seated before slipping into the driver’s side.

“So,” he says, turning the key in the ignition. “Plan B.”

“Plan B?” you ask, raising a brow.

He glances at you with a mischievous grin. “The natural way.”

Your cheeks flush, and you smack his arm lightly. “Niall, be serious!”

“I am serious,” he says, though his grin remains. “If you’re okay with it, we’ll do this together. But on our terms, yeah? Not theirs.”

You bite your lip, your heart pounding. “And you’re really okay with this? No second thoughts?”

He reaches over, taking your hand in his. “No second thoughts,” he says softly, his eyes meeting yours. “I want this with you. All of it.”

You smile, squeezing his hand. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

His grin widens as he pulls out of the parking lot, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Right, then. Home it is.”

As he drives, the two of you fall into a comfortable silence, the road ahead suddenly feeling like the start of something extraordinary.

...

When you step inside the house, the door barely clicks shut before Niall’s presence behind you feels overwhelming. His warmth, his steady breaths, the sheer energy radiating from him—it’s all-consuming. You set your bag down with trembling hands, trying to steady yourself as the tension thickens between you.

“Niall—” you begin, but before the words can form, his hands are on your waist, turning you to face him.

His lips crash against yours, silencing any doubt or hesitation. The kiss is rough, desperate, and all-encompassing, years of unspoken feelings pouring out in a way that leaves you breathless. His hands grip your hips, pulling you flush against him as his body presses into yours, his need palpable.

When he finally pulls back, his lips are red and slightly swollen, his blue eyes burning into yours. His voice is low and hoarse, vibrating through you like a current. “You want a baby?” he growls, his accent thicker now, his emotions untamed. “Then I’m giving you one. Tonight.”

Your breath hitches, your heart pounding against your ribcage. His words send a bolt of electricity through you, pooling heat low in your belly. “Niall…” you whisper, unsure if you’re warning him or begging for more.

“You don’t know what you’ve done to me,” he continues, his hands sliding up your sides, his touch firm and possessive. “Hearing you say you want my baby… knowing it’s me you want…” He pauses, his lips brushing against your ear. “I’m going to put a baby in you, love. Right now.”

Your knees go weak, and you clutch at his shoulders, your breath coming in shallow gasps. “You’re serious?”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his expression heated yet tender. “You’re the only one I’d do this for. The only one I’ve ever wanted to do this with.”

Your fingers tighten in his shirt, and you nod, unable to find the words.

That’s all he needs. He scoops you into his arms, his strength making it look effortless as he carries you toward the bedroom. His lips never leave yours, the kiss growing hungrier, deeper, until you’re gasping for air.

When he lays you down on the bed, his hands are everywhere—sliding down your thighs, skimming your waist, slipping under your shirt to feel the heat of your skin. Every touch is deliberate, reverent, as if he’s savoring the moment, committing every inch of you to memory.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion. “Always have been. But seeing you like this… knowing what we’re about to do… Christ, love.”

You shiver under his gaze, every nerve ending alive and tingling as his hands and lips explore you. He’s thorough, almost painfully so, taking his time as if he’s determined to make sure you feel nothing but pleasure.

When he finally settles over you, the heat of his bare skin against yours is almost overwhelming, every touch igniting a fire that feels impossible to quench. His weight is grounding, his presence wrapping around you like a safety net, and the intensity in his blue eyes makes your breath hitch.

He cups your cheek, his thumb brushing against your flushed skin as his gaze searches yours, his voice low and thick with emotion. “Tell me you want this,” he murmurs, his words a command and a plea all at once.

“I want this,” you whisper, your voice trembling but sure. “I want you.”

His lips crash into yours, his kiss deep and consuming, as though he’s trying to tell you everything he feels in a way words never could. His hands roam your body with reverence, exploring every curve, every inch of skin as though memorizing you. His touch leaves a trail of warmth and need in its wake, and when his hands slide down to grip your thighs, pulling you closer, the air seems to shift.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough and reverent. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

Your hands skim the taut muscles of his back, the heat of his skin beneath your fingertips making your head spin. When you arch into him, he groans low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your lips and sparking something primal deep inside you.

As he shifts, aligning himself with you, the moment hangs suspended in the air, electric and charged. He pauses, his forehead pressing against yours as his gaze locks onto you. “You’re sure?” he asks softly, his voice steady but laced with a vulnerability that tugs at your heart.

“Yes,” you breathe, your hands clutching at his shoulders, your body aching for him in ways words can’t describe.

With excruciating slowness, he pushes into you, the sensation making your breath catch and your fingers dig into his skin. The stretch is intense but perfect, his movements careful and deliberate as he fills you completely.

“God, love,” he groans, his voice low and guttural as his head drops to your shoulder. “You feel... incredible.”

Your body trembles beneath him, your breath hitching as you adjust to the sensation. Every nerve ending feels alive, every inch of your body attuned to his. He stills for a moment, his lips pressing gentle kisses along your neck as his hands cradle your face.

“You okay?” he asks softly, his concern evident even as his own body trembles with restraint.

“Yes,” you whisper, your voice shaky but full of need. “Please, Niall... don’t stop.”

The sound of his name on your lips seems to unravel him, and he begins to move, slow and deliberate at first, his body pressing into yours with a rhythm that feels both primal and tender. Each movement draws a soft gasp from your lips, and he drinks in every sound, his gaze never leaving yours.

“You’re going to look so good carrying my baby,” he murmurs, his voice thick with passion, the rawness of his words sending a shiver through you. “Knowing it’s ours. Knowing we made it together.”

His hips roll against yours, his movements growing more purposeful, and you clutch at him, your nails digging into his back as the intensity of the moment builds. “Niall,” you gasp, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

“Say it again,” he growls, his forehead pressing to yours as his pace quickens. “Say my name. Let me hear you.”

“Niall,” you moan, your voice trembling with need, the sound driving him further.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his lips brushing yours before trailing down your neck. His hands grip your hips, pulling you impossibly closer as his movements become more urgent, his focus entirely on you. “That’s it, love. Just like that.”

The tension builds between you, every movement, every sound pulling you closer to the edge. His whispered promises fill the space around you—words of devotion, of care, of a future together—and when you finally fall over the edge, it’s with him right there, his body pressing into yours as he follows, his own release crashing over him like a tidal wave.

When it’s over, he collapses onto you gently, his body still pressed firmly against yours as his arms wrap around you, holding you close. His face buries in the crook of your neck, his breath warm and uneven against your skin as he murmurs softly, “You okay, love?”

You nod, a shaky laugh escaping your lips as your fingers thread through his damp hair. “More than okay,” you whisper, your voice filled with contentment.

He lifts his head to look at you, his blue eyes soft and filled with emotion. A slow grin tugs at his lips, playful but tender. “Well,” he teases, his voice low, “if that didn’t do the trick, I guess we’ll just have to keep trying.”

You laugh, swatting at his chest lightly, but he catches your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before leaning down to kiss you again.

When he pulls back, his expression grows serious, his voice dropping. “You know this is just the beginning, yeah? I’m here. Always.”

Your chest tightens at his words, your own smile softening as your hand brushes against his cheek. “Always,” you echo, the word settling over you like a promise.

He shifts to pull you into his arms, holding you tightly against him as the two of you sink into the moment. And as the quiet envelops you both, you can’t help but think that this—his love, his presence—is everything you’ve ever wanted.

...

The soft glow of morning filters through the blinds, and you stir awake slowly, the warm weight of Niall’s body pressed against yours making you feel safe and content. His arm is draped over you, his chest against your back, and for a moment, you just lie there, enjoying the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the soft rhythm that keeps you grounded.

You stretch lazily, your body aching in the best way from the night before. You can feel the heat of his body, still close, still wrapped around you like he never intends to let you go.

“Morning, love,” Niall mumbles into the back of your neck, his voice thick with sleep, his breath warm against your skin. He nuzzles into you, pressing a few soft kisses to your shoulder, the scent of him—woodsy and familiar—filling your senses.

“Morning,” you murmur, your voice a little husky from sleep, your fingers grazing over his arm where it rests around your waist. You feel him shift slightly behind you, the heat of him a constant, calming presence as he draws lazy circles on your hip with his thumb.

“You comfortable?” he asks, his lips brushing the back of your neck again, soft and slow, as if he’s still half-dreaming.

“Yeah, just fine,” you whisper, a small laugh escaping you. “You?”

“Couldn’t be better.” His voice is low, thick with a kind of groggy contentment. There’s a lazy warmth in the way he speaks, the kind of softness that comes with knowing you’re both still tangled in the afterglow of the night, and maybe a little bit reluctant to leave it just yet.

You turn to face him slowly, the covers shifting with you, and his eyes flicker open, sleepy blue orbs meeting yours with a lazy, almost dazed smile. He’s a mess of tousled hair, his lips swollen from the kisses exchanged just hours before, and there’s a softness in his gaze that makes your chest tighten.

"Morning," he whispers again, his voice a little more awake now but still tinged with that sleepy rasp.

“Morning,” you repeat, the word barely a breath as you curl closer into him, your body still heavy with the warmth of his touch. You kiss him, slow and unhurried, the softness of it mingling with the faint traces of sleep still clinging to you both.

When you pull back, Niall’s hand slips lazily down your back, his fingers tracing the curve of your spine, and he groans softly, his voice still low and rumbly. “You know… I was thinking…”

“Uh-oh,” you tease, but your voice is soft, a smile tugging at your lips as you run a hand through his messy hair.

He gives a quiet chuckle, his lips curling into that crooked grin of his. “I think we need to go again, love. Just to be sure. You know, science.”

Your laugh is soft, still half a yawn, and you roll your eyes, but there’s a definite flicker of heat in your belly as you hear the teasing, playful tone in his voice. “For science, huh?”

“Definitely,” he grins, a little cheeky, but his hand slides under the covers to cup your hip, his fingers warm against your skin. His touch is lazy, almost reverent, and when you arch into him, your body instinctively responding to his closeness, he lets out a low, contented sigh.

You both shift closer, the sheets tangled around you as Niall’s lips brush against yours again, slow and soft, like you’re both still wrapped in the haze of sleep. But then the kiss deepens, the heat rising between you, and the sleepy calm of the morning fades into something more urgent, more insistent.

“God, love,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your lips as he presses his forehead to yours. “You feel so perfect. I can’t get enough of you.”

You hum in response, your body already beginning to wake up with his touch. “I want you,” you whisper, your hands sliding to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips.

With lazy determination, Niall shifts over you, his hands guiding your legs to wrap around his waist, and the weight of him feels right, familiar. He’s still half-dazed, his movements slow and almost clumsy as he shifts into position, but you both fit together like two pieces of a puzzle.

When he slides into you, the sensation is smooth, easy, and the slight ache from last night only adds to the pleasure. His movements are careful but lazy, still drunk on sleep, but as he starts to move, the warmth between you ignites once more.

“So good,” he breathes out, his voice thick with need, but the sound is still slow, half-sleepy, as if he’s not fully awake yet. “Feels perfect, love. Every time.”

Your body moves with his in that slow, comfortable rhythm, the kind of lazy, drawn-out lovemaking that only happens when you’re both lost in the haze of a quiet morning, the world outside forgotten. The sounds between you are soft, the kiss still lingering, slow and deep, as if neither of you wants to let go of the moment.

Niall’s lips trail to your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he whispers against it, “I’m gonna put a baby in you, love. Gonna make sure of it.”

His words, low and possessive, send a shiver of excitement through you, but there’s no rush, no pressure. Just him, you, and the promise of what’s to come, taking its time.

When he finally reaches the edge, it’s a slow, steady thing—every breath, every soft touch winding you tighter together, until finally you both unravel in a shared, breathless release.

For a long moment afterward, you both lie still, tangled in the sheets, the room silent but for the soft rustle of breathing, as Niall pulls you close and buries his face in your hair. His arms wrap around you, his warmth grounding you, and you smile contentedly as the soft hum of his heartbeat calms you both.

“Well,” he murmurs, still half-asleep, his fingers trailing lazily down your spine. “That oughta do it. I think we’re good for now, love.”

You laugh quietly, your fingers threading through his hair as you pull him in for another lazy kiss. “I think so, too.”

And as you both settle back into the warmth of the morning, the world outside seems far away—just you, him, and the slow, sweet promises of what’s to come.

[allwaswell16]

[4 pics, 4 quotes, 4 iconic 1D fics]

Iconic fics by...

- sunsetmog -

[1]

"I know. You're a very spoiled kitten, aren't you?" There wasn't much that was kitten-like about Humph any more, but he'd always be Louis's baby. He refilled his water bowl first and then spooned out half of the tin into the bowl and put it down on the tray. "Dig in, kit."

"Louis. Are you really okay?"

Louis stood up, wiping his hands on his thighs. He went to rinse his hands under the tap. "Nothing's changed," he said. "I'm the same person I was an hour ago, or last week, or last year when you left me. I did it by myself then, and I can do it by myself now. I don't need someone to fix me. I never did."

"I know," Harry said. "It doesn't… it doesn't mean you have to be alone to do it."

Louis's shoulders slumped. "You're going to go. You're going to piss off back to your old life and I'm going to be here by myself, and nothing's going to have changed from last time."

"I'm going to go back. I have to go back at some point. I know that. I just don't want it to be like last time. I want to be better. I want to do better."

"You don’t need me for either of those things."

"Yeah," Harry said. "I do."

[2]

"Are you all right?"

"Why wouldn't I be just fine?" Louis dumped two mugs down on the counter, and flicked the switch on the kettle. "My ex-boyfriend—who I was completely in love with—kissed me last night, and some dickhead with a phone got a picture and now it's on the web, so everything's just bloody fantastic. Harry's crying on his mum, you can't see my face so nobody knows it's me, Dad wants me to see him, I think I still love Harry, and everything's fucking shit. And I hate apricot jam."

"There's raspberry in the bag by the door," Mum said. "Bought it yesterday." She sounded kind of dazed. Louis didn't blame her. His head felt like it was on inside out and back to front. The fact that he was on the front of some website—luckily with his face obscured, but still—felt kind of like it was by the by. "Have you spoken to Harry?"

"What about? We haven't got anything to say to each other." That was a lie. Louis had about nine million things he wanted to say to Harry, but they were all variants of what the fuck did I do to deserve the way you treated me, and why didn't you love me enough, so it would be a fairly pointless experience to actually say them out loud.

[3]

Nick leans in and presses his mouth to Louis's hot temple. He's only allowed a couple of minutes; Louis's abdominal injuries are so severe his condition is still extremely critical.

"I'm not going anywhere, duck. I'm going to be right here when you wake up, I swear. Just concentrate on getting better. We're all going to be right here."

He sits in the family room afterwards, the plastic apron discarded, a cup of tea from the little tea maker in the corner going cold in his hand. Jay sits next to him, silent in their vigil, the minutes stretching away from them like hours, and the hours never fucking passing. All day long they're joined by Louis's family, and his band, everyone coming and going, and none of it makes Louis wake up, or shifts him any further into the land of the living.

Louis's life is measured in the beeps of the equipment and the rhythmic huffs of the ventilator. His boy can't breathe by himself, and Nick has never, ever been so scared in his whole entire life.

[4]

"Right back then. When you were picking Harry to be your friend. Why didn't you pick me?"

Inexplicably, Nick wants to cry. He wants to reach out along the phone line and draw Louis into his side and fix all those little cracks and fissures that make him up, that make him this fucked up and this needy and this broken. "It was never like that," he says, which is sort of a rubbish answer, but it's the best he can come up with. Him and Harry had just—connected, and friendship had just sort of arrived, fully-formed, seconds after meeting each other. It had never meant that he wouldn't have wanted to be friends with Louis too.

"Was, though." Louis sounds sulky.

"You're such a fuck up," Nick says. "This isn't fair."

"You picked Harry."

"It wasn't like a competition where only one of you won, you idiot." The tight feeling across his chest gets even tighter. "I could have been friends with both of you."

"Don't like being second-best." Louis is petulant and drunk and half a world away, and Nick—again—is caught between wanting to throw things at him and wanting to draw him in and kiss him endlessly. Frustration coils in his belly, like a spring ready to explode. He pinches the bridge of his nose.

"You're not my second-best," Nick says, because Louis is too drunk to remember this conversation in the morning, or at least Nick hopes he is. "You're my number fucking one, okay, and I hate you for doing this to me, all right? I fucking hate this."

Answers below...

[1]

Emperor's New Clothes

The fact that Louis’s most precious belonging was a cat with a face like thunder and an uncanny ability to cover every single inch of Louis’s clothing with cat hair was something that Louis chose not to think about too much.

or: Harry’s a pop star and Louis isn’t, and there’s a non-disclosure agreement where there used to be a relationship.

[2]

Truly, Madly, Deeply (10 Things I Hate About You)

The first Louis had heard of Harry auditioning for X Factor was the night he'd turned up on Louis' doorstep the day before leaving for Boot Camp, with a DVD and an illicit bottle of vodka.

Thing was, Louis hated secrets, and he really hated being made a fool of, and he really, really hated Harry Styles.

or: the one in which they're all in sixth form together, and Harry auditions for X Factor without them.

[3]

We Used To Wait 

The BBC Breaking News Twitter just says, One Direction star Louis Tomlinson rushed to hospital after M25 car crash.

or: Louis has an accident, but nobody even knows he and Nick are going out.

[4]

I Had Rather Hear My Dog Bark At A Crow

The first time Louis Tomlinson kisses him, Nick is three sheets to the wind, wearing a pirate hat, and so fucking tired of Louis being a complete and utter knobhead that he's spent the last ten minutes snapping at him.

The kiss takes him rather by surprise, all things considered.

Or: Nick and Louis don't like each other, not even a little bit, not even at all.

@magicalrocketships

[gyuwrites]

BAKED WITH CARE

staring...baker!joshua × gn!reader

genre...romance, comedy, holiday fiction, a little angst

warnings...mention of food? misunderstanding between families (your family)

synopsis...Returning home for the holidays, you reluctantly agree to join the town’s bake-off, despite your lack of baking skills. You met up with Joshua, a childhood friend who is now the owner of a local bakery. As you spend time together, you realise that this holiday season has more in store for you than just baking lessons and prizes.

rating...sfw

w.c...1.4k

note...Christmas ended but here i am, releasing a christmas fic. I may or may not have written this at midnight and even finished it but Enjoy y'all.

Nets... @k-films @kflixnet @kstrucknet

Please reblog as it helps a lot!

"yes, yes. I'll join the bake-off"

You could hear your friend squealing through the phone as you looked at the destination display on the train slowly reaching your designated station. You stood up, gripping your baggage tightly. You sighed, it's been quite a while since you've gone back to your hometown. After the day you had an awful fight with your mom, you left home without saying goodbye. You wondered how you were going to face her.

"Over here!!" You could see your friend wave happily at you, even before the train door slid open. You smiled, waving back at her as you walked out of the train.

"you have no idea how much you have missed after you left! Oh, we must catch up!" She jumped in excitement before hugging you tightly. You laughed, returning the hug as well. As you walked with her out of the station, her boyfriend was waiting outside for the two of you.

"Hello," you smiled politely at him, hopping into the car with your friend. "So! What are you going to bake for the town's bake-off?" your friend asked, clueless that you had zero ounce of baking skills. You laughed nervously, unsure what kind of desserts you could make with such clumsy hands. "I'll think about it afterward." As you looked out the car window, snow stretching endlessly across the landscape, you responded.

The car drove through the quiet, snow-covered streets, the soft hum of the engine and the occasional crunch of tires on snow filling the silence. You glanced at your phone, scrolling through Pinterest for last-minute dessert ideas, but everything seemed difficult to make.

"We're here!" Your friend chirped, breaking your train of thought as the car rolled to a stop in front of your home. You stepped out into the cold, your friend hopping out to grab your baggage for you. You turned around to face your mom who was standing at the doorway with a weak smile. You smiled back awkwardly, avoiding further eye contact with her.

"it's time you reconnect with your mom, it's been years. Forgive and forget, alright?" Your friend whispered in your ear before handing you the bags. You sighed, waving goodbye to your friend.

"Hi, Mom," you said softly. "come on in" your mom uttered, stepping aside to let you in. As you stepped inside the place you once used to call home, the warmth of familiarity immediately surrounded you.

"I...cleaned your room so you should settle in fine. I'll be in my room if you need me." Your mom spoke before leaving you alone. You watched her every move, unsure of what to do next. You sighed deeply, heading into your old room. Memories came flooding in as you walked in. The soft bed that creaked when you sat on it, the old drawer that would get stuck from time to time, and...the broken mirror that your mom accidentally broke during the fight you had with her years ago.

"You haven't changed a single thing, huh." You said with a weak smile. You left your baggage on the floor, leaving your room. You wandered around the house, scanning over familiar rooms filled with memories.

It wasn't long before you found yourself in the living room. Everything was still in place, nothing had changed at all. As you walked around, you noticed a picture sitting on the mantel, a thick layer of dust clung to the photo. You froze as you stared at the picture. It was your graduation day photo. You and Joshua, both dressed in black gowns and caps, smiling brightly. As you looked at the picture, a sudden thought rushed into your mind.

"oh my god, that's it!" You yelled, which made your mom come out of her room. "What? What happened?" She asked worriedly. "I'm gonna pay Joshua's bakery a visit. I'll talk to you later." Your mom raised an eyebrow but didn't question you.

"Alright, have fun."

The cold air brushed against your cheeks as you made your way to the bakery. The bakery was his family's pride, it was known for its warm, inviting atmosphere and delicious pastry. The smell of fresh bread and sweet desserts would always hit your nose each time you walked inside. It was the best bakery in town. You knew you could find Joshua there, it was his second home after all.

As you walked in, the small bell above the door jingled. You were greeted by the familiar, welcoming warmth of Joshua's bakery. There he stood, behind the counter, wearing the bakery's signature apron that was dusted with flour as he worked on a tray of freshly baked cookies.

He looked up from the counter, a surprised but warm smile spread across his face.

"you came back."

"only for the holidays, yeah. I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"of course not. It's nice to see you!" Joshua stepped away from the counter, wiping his hand clean on his apron before approaching you. "What brings you here? Need a dessert for Christmas?" you glanced at the beautiful pastries displayed on the counter. "I need help with baking..."

Joshua crossed his arms, chuckling in disbelief. "You? Baking? Never thought I'd see the day." you rolled your eyes at his comment. "My friend begged me to join the town's bake-off but little did she know, I'm no baker." You sighed.

Joshua raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Well, this should be interesting," he said, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

You shot him a look, feeling a mix of frustration and embarrassment. "I’m serious! I can barely bake a decent cookie without burning it."

"All alright, alright. We can start tomorrow but don't say I didn't warn you, my baking lessons come with a lot of sarcasm."

The next few days were filled with flour-dusted counters and playful banters. Besides you were trays of failed products you had made while Joshua made a ton of goods that were ready to set outside on the display. "right, now you're just showing off, aren't you." You scoffed, rolling your eyes playfully.

"Maybe," he said with a wink, making you laugh. As you continued to decorate one of the sugar cookies shaped like a Christmas tree, you glanced at Joshua to see what he was up to. The moment you lifted your eyes, you found him already staring back at you. His usual steady hands faltered, the green icing dripping onto the counter.

"what? Is there something on my face?" You asked, raising your eyebrow as you touched your face.

"no, no. There isn't, I'm...just glad you're back." He said softly, looking back at the sugar cookie. Your heart raced, you could feel it as if it was ready to jump out any moment. You managed to keep your voice steady before speaking.

"me too"

On the night of the bake-off, your gingerbread house that was crafted under Joshua's guidance did not win first place but it didn't matter to you. The two of you stood outside the hall, looking at the mesmerizing night sky. White puffs form each time we exhale or speak. "What a shame, your gingerbread house was great though!" Your friend chirped, trying to cheer you up but to be frank, you didn't need it. Winning didn't matter to you anyway. "It's alright, the price isn't everything," you reassured her, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"Oh look! It's Shua! Hello!" You turned around to see Joshua walking towards you, a warm smile on his face. "I'll leave you two to it." Your friend giggled, giving you a thumbs-up before returning to the hall.

"Well, what are you up to after the holidays?" He asked, gently leaning on the railings as he looked at you. "I'm not sure, I will have to go back though. I've got work" you sighed deeply. Part of you didn't want to leave the town you grew up in, you only left because of an argument which you kind of regret doing.

"Well, before you leave. Might as well give you this." He uttered, handing you a box tied with a red ribbon. "What's this?", you asked, looking at him. "Open it," he said, looking unusually nervous as he bit his lips, avoiding eye contact with you.

You carefully unboxed the gift, revealing a sugar cookie, crafted to perfection in the shape of a heart. Written in icing were the words 'Merry Christmas'.

You looked at him, feeling your cheeks flushed. Even though it was subtle, you understood the meaning behind it.

"I'm not much for grand gestures," he said, scratching the back of his neck. "But if you're free tomorrow, maybe we could—"

"yes," you interrupted, standing on your tippy toes to peck his cheek.

"I'd love to"

© All rights reserved to GYUWRITES. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or translated in any form/platform.

[steddieprompts]

Another cutesy little steddie thing. all fluff. Post vecna. 1648 words.

---

It’s not that Eddie was a wuss…

Ok maybe he was, but still this was a terrifying prospect… asking Steve Harrington out.

It didn’t help that he was getting advice from a 15 year old.

“Do you think he likes you back?”  Dustin asked, tapping a pencil against his chin.

“I don’t know, Henderson,” Eddie ran his hands over his face.  What was he doing?  “You’re supposed to be helping me figure that out.”

Dustin tapped his chin again and looked at the ceiling.

In all honesty, Eddie would usually talk to Jeff about this stuff, but he had to be visiting his family in Ohio because of stupid Thanksgiving.

“Well, you guys hang out a lot, that’s gotta count for something.”  Dustin pointed out.

“You hang out a lot with Sinclair and Wheeler.  You wanna make out with them?”  Dustin pulled a face.  “That’s what I thought.”

“I am happily in a relationship, thanks.”  Dustin pointed out.

He always had a reason to point it out.

“I know, and I would like to be as well, so if we could get back to the discussion at hand…”

“Ok, ok… Well, Steve hasn’t really been dating recently… right?”

“No, he hasn’t.”

“Maybe that means something?”

“I don’t know… He says he just hasn’t met the right person yet…”

“Well… he used ‘person,’ not ‘girl!’  That’s a good sign!”  Dustin pointed his pencil at Eddie.

“Sure, but you’re missing a key point in that statement.”  Eddie sighed.  Dustin squinted at him.  “He’s met me, Dustin.”

Dustin’s eyebrows shot up.  “Fair point.”

Eddie dropped his face into his hands.  Dustin started up again.

“Your idea that Steve might like you is a hypothesis and science dictates that the only way to conclude if a hypothesis is correct is to prove it.  To run experiments.”

Eddie let out a belabored sigh.

“So, test it,” Dustin continued. “Ask Steve out.”

Eddie stared at Dustin, knowing he was right in his own little, nerd way.

“Yeah… Ok, alright, yeah, I’ll do it.”

\\\\\\\

The next day was movie night at Steve’s with the whole crew.  The kids, Nancy, and Robin were all in the living room putting out snacks and arguing about where they would sit.  Eddie figured now was as good a time as any.  He crossed over to the kitchen, meandering over to Steve who was waiting for the popcorn in the microwave.

“Hey.”  Eddie offered once he was a few feet away.  Nailed it.

“Hey,”  Steve looked over at him, “how’s physical therapy going?  I’ve been meaning to call you, see if you needed any help.”  Steve responded with a soft smile at Eddie, the kind that made all the nervous energy in him disappear.  The microwave beeped and Steve pulled the popcorn out, hissing when he grabbed the hot part of the bag before dropping it in one of the big plastic bowls he had waiting.

Eddie grabbed another bag out of the box, unfolded it and handed it to Steve.

“Uh, good, good, I guess.  I never really know if I’m doing the exercises right.  The paper instructions are shit.”

Steve laughed at that, “Yeah, I’ve been there.  I could come over some time, help you figure them out?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.  That would be great… actually.”  Eddie swallowed.  “But, uh, before that happens, I, uh, I have to ask you something.”  Eddie stumbled over the words before looking over his shoulder, making sure no one else would be witness to him getting shot down by Steve Harrington, even if he was in a house full of friends.

“Yeah?”  Steve turned toward Eddie, leaned his hip against the counter, the picture of nonchalance.

“Yeah,” Eddie cleared his throat, “Would you, uh, ever consider, maybe… shit. Start over.”  Eddie clamped his jaw in a grimace before starting again.  He couldn’t look at Steve yet.  If he saw any bit of apprehension or negative emotion, he would never actually get the full question out.  “Would you like to go out… on a date… with me?”

Eddie finally looked at Steve instead of the cabinet behind his head.  His initial look gave him nothing.  Steve looked the same, if not a little more still, a little more focused.  But he wasn’t saying anything.  The nervous energy was back with a vengeance and Eddie was starting to feel twitchy the longer Steve stared at him.

And then Lucas walked into the kitchen.

“Is this one ready?”  he asked, pulling the bowl with the popcorn bag in it across the counter.  The microwave behind Steve beeped.  He was still staring at Eddie.  Eddie was still staring at Steve.

“Uh-huh.”  Steve answered.

“Should I get that one out?”  Lucas asked.

“I’ll get it in a second,” Steve said, his eyes now roaming over Eddie’s face.

“I don’t mind.”  Lucas offered.

“Dude.”  Steve’s eyes finally left Eddie and he felt himself deflate a little bit, muscles twinging from where he had been clenching them.  “I’ll get it. Can you give us a minute?”

“Oh! Uh, yeah? Sure?”  Lucas replied, quickly grabbing the bowl and heading back towards the living room.

Steve’s eyes flicked back to Eddie and he felt suddenly compelled to talk.  Like a tidal wave, his insecurities drowned him.

“I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have sprung this on you.  I’m not your type, I know. I—”

“Yes.”

“Don’t even know if…”  Eddie stopped to process what Steve said.  “Yes? Yes, I’m not your type or yes you… you want to…”

“Yes. I’ll go out with you.”

Eddie finally looked at Steve, really took him in instead of concentrating on not collapsing in on himself.  Steve looked almost… shy?  Nervous?  There was the slightest blush on his neck, the smallest, guarded smile.  He, Eddie now noticed, had been white knuckling his own arm ever since Eddie asked.

Interesting.

Eddie relaxed a little.  “Yeah?”

Steve’s smile grew bigger as he nodded. “Yeah.”

Eddie couldn’t help the smile that took over his face.  He did it.  He asked Steve out. And Steve said yes!  What’s more, Steve looked caught off guard in the best way possible.  “Oh, just you wait, Harrington.  I’m gonna wine and dine you like you’ve never been wined and dined before.” Eddie grinned.

“The popcorn’s getting cold! What’s taking you guys so long!”  Dustin yelled from the living room.

Steve turned to the microwave to get the popcorn and Eddie reveled in Steve’s smile.  The way it looked like he was restraining it, the way Steve looked lighter than he had in weeks.

They walked back to the living room together, and Eddie kicked Mike off the couch so he could sit next to Steve. Halfway through the movie, Steve slipped his hand into Eddie’s.  On impulse, he pulled Steve’s hand up to kiss the back of it, before shifting closer and leaning his head on Steve’s shoulder.  When he felt the press of Steve’s head on top of his he thought maybe he was dead.  Maybe the bats had finished him off and he was in heaven.

He would have to thank Dustin for pushing him to ask Steve.  He would never hear the end of it.

When the movie ended and everyone was leaving, Eddie hung around the living room so he would be the last to go.  He refolded the blankets, rewound the tape and put it back in its box, and picked up the popcorn bowls and candy wrappers.  He was in the kitchen throwing things out, thinking maybe he had enough time to run to the bathroom, when Steve reappeared.

“Everyone head out?”  Eddie asked as Steve approached him.

“Mhmm.”  He replied before stepping around the kitchen island and stopping in front of Eddie. “Coast is clear.”

“Oh yeah?” Eddie grinned, stepping closer.

“Mmm,” Steve hummed before leaning in, pressing his lips to Eddie’s.

Eddie had kissed quite a few people before, boys and girls alike, but this kiss with Steve.  It was different.  It filled him up, distracted him from everything else so that when his back hit the counter it almost startled him.

“Sorry.”  Steve hummed, pulling away.

“Don’t be.”  Eddie managed to get out before pulling Steve back in.  He was definitely in heaven.  Except in heaven, he wouldn’t be almost peeing his pants.  Curse that whole bottle of coke.

Eddie pulled back with a soft, ‘shit.’

“You okay?”  Steve asked.

“Yeah, fantastic, great. Except I think I’m about to pee my pants. Don’t go anywhere, Big Boy.”  Eddie said before practically running to the bathroom, Steve’s surprised laughter following him down the hall.

When he got back, Steve was washing the popcorn bowls and pizza plates from earlier in the night, sweater pushed up to his elbows, the locks of hair hanging in his eyes swinging with his movements.  Eddie stepped up behind him and wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist.

“No one has ever asked me out.”  Steve said after a few seconds.

“What?”  Eddie let go in surprise, moving next to Steve so he could see his face.  “Seriously?”

Steve nodded.

“The way girls talked about you I would have thought they would be lining up.”  Eddie mused.

“No. I’m the guy, you know?  I mean they definitely dropped hints, but none of them asked me.”

Eddie reveled in that for a second.  He was the first person to ask Steve Harrington out.

“So, how does it feel being on the receiving end?”  Eddie asked, nudging Steve.

“So good.”  Steve smiled at him, the sincerity of his words bleeding out of him so much that Eddie had to dart forward and peck him on the cheek.

“Where do you want to go?”  Eddie asked.

“You said you were gonna wine and dine me,” Steve replied, “I trust you.”

Those words sent a bolt of pure reassurance through Eddie.  “Oh, Steve Harrington,” he half sing-songed, half chuckled, “I’m gonna date you so hard.”

[waayoutofline]

4 times you surprised Abby + Bonus

Pairing: Abby Anderson x F!Reader

Prompts: Fluff with a sprinkle of hurt/comfort, past toxic relationships, Cook! Reader, vulnerable Abby.

Summary: Four times you surprise Abby in your relationship.

WC: 2,8K

Warnings: None.

Abby hasn’t had a long dating history, which isn’t surprising in a world as broken as theirs. Survival didn’t leave much room for things like love. She’s had her flings, moments of stolen intimacy, but they never lasted. People came and went, and she’d learned to accept it. Relationships, if they even could be called that, weren’t always kind or healthy—but they were what they were. What she was used to.

So when you and Abby finally started dating—after months of stolen glances, shy smiles, and a tension that buzzed between you like an incoming storm—she couldn’t help but be surprised. What was it about you that made her hope for something more?

1. Talking About Her to Your Friends

Abby didn’t mean to eavesdrop, really. She was on her way to the gym when she remembered she’d left her bag in your room. She knew you were with your friends, so she decided to sneak in quietly.

But as she approached the door, she heard her name.

“So, how’s life with your lover girl?” one of your friends teased, and Abby froze.

Her pulse quickened, a mixture of curiosity and anxiety rooting her in place. She shouldn’t listen, but she couldn’t stop herself. She braced for your answer, her heart sinking as she prepared to hear the usual: She’s strong. She’s built. She’s hot. A bit stubborn. Overwhelming at times.

And sure, she was those things. Her body was a testament to her survival, her strength, and her discipline . She worked for it and was proud of it. But deep down, she longed to be seen as more than that. And her character was strong and she has been told about how troublesome it could be alongside her dry humor and sarcasm.

“Well…” Your voice was hesitant, shy. She could almost picture the way your cheeks would flush. “Gosh, she’s amazing. She’s so intelligent and kind—she talks about literature in a way that astonishes me every time.”

Abby’s breath caught in her throat.

“She’s gentle, in this really soft way. You should see her with dogs. It makes me want to get her one.”

Her chest tightened, warmth blooming in a place she hadn’t let anyone touch in years.

“Don’t forget attractive,” one of your friends chimed in, grinning.

You laughed, your voice flustered. “Well, of course. She’s gorgeous.”

“Look at you, all smitten,” someone teased, and your laugh grew quieter, softer, as if you didn’t mind being called out.

Abby’s heart was pounding now, but it wasn’t from nerves. She felt her legs move before she realized it, retreating back down the hall with her bag in hand, her cheeks hot, her lips curling into a smile she couldn’t fight.

Manny didn’t let her hear the end of it when he caught her grinning like a lovestruck fool all day.

2. Meeting the Family

Holiday time was around the corner. Usually, it didnt really mean much for everyone, but for the sake of trying to live in this forsaken world, some did their best to try and regain some normalcy.

Even Isaac, workaholic and not really an empathetic, allowed some of the recruits and workers to go out of their shifts earlier to spend some time with their remaining families.

It could be great. If you actually had one.

Abby usually just stayed at the gym, pushing herself. The burn of her muscles being preferable at the though of how alone she really was.

But she really wasnt anymore. No, you were with her now.

One night, out of nowhere, you asked her to have dinner with you and your mom. Abby blinked, caught off guard.

“What?” she asked, towel in hand as she dried her hair.

“My mom and I usually do something this time of year. I think she’s tired of me rambling about you and wants to officially meet you,” you said, your tone light and teasing, as if it wasn’t a big deal.

But it was a big deal. No one had ever invited her to meet their family before. No one had ever seen her as someone worth bringing home. Too conscious of her own lack of family.

“No pressure,” you added quickly, though your eyes softened in that way that made her heart ache. “If you don’t want to, it’s okay. But I think she’d really like you.”

“I… I’d like that too,” Abby said at last, her voice almost too quiet to hear. “What should I bring?”

You smiled, stepping closer and gently tugging the towel from her hands to help dry her hair. “Just you, beautiful.”

Abby let out a shaky laugh at your cheeky grin, rolling her eyes to hide the way her cheeks blushed. “Flatterer.”

Dinner was warm in a way Abby hadn’t experienced in years. Your mom fussed over her like she’d known Abby forever, asking about her favorite foods and piling extra servings onto her plate.

It was strange and wonderful—this sense of care. Abby couldn’t remember the last time someone had made her feel this… domestic. Cared for. Hers died at a young age after all, she didn’t remember any kind of motherly care.

And when your mom pulled out the box of polaroids, Abby couldn’t stop laughing. Even as you protested in the background, trying to snatch the photos away, she soaked in every story your mom told—every glimpse of you as a child, every memory that shaped the person she was falling for more deeply than she thought possible.

3) The little things

Abby has always been independent. She prided herself on it—her ability to handle things, resolve problems, and shoulder her burdens without leaning on anyone. It wasn’t always easy, and yes, sometimes it felt lonely. But that loneliness was a price she was willing to pay. Dependence, to her, was a weakness, and she had no room for that.

But then you came along. And somehow, without even trying, you chipped away at her walls.

It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t about grand gestures, no flashy declarations. It was the little things—the quiet moments and unnoticed details—that left her feeling undone.

Like the time you took her gym towels, washed them, and neatly packed them back into her bag. She’d blinked in surprise, holding them in her hands, wondering how you’d known she’d forgotten. You hadn’t even mentioned it, just smiled when she realized.

Or the way, after a grueling patrol, she’d find a sticky note on her makeshift fridge. Your familiar handwriting scrawled something simple—a heart, her name, a quiet reminder to eat. Beside it, there was always a container of her favorite dish. She’d sit there and eat it, alone but feeling more cared for than she ever had before.

Then there were her hair ties. She’d spent half a morning cursing under her breath, looking for the ones that always seemed to vanish. When you finally spoke up, you’d said, “I put them in the little box on your nightstand so you don’t keep loosing them.”

And at times, when she didn’t really have it in her to face the morning, you gently encouraged her to push forward. You’d quietly ask if you could braid her hair. Abby usually was adamant from letting anyone touch it, but there was something about the way your delicate hands moved through her hair that left her in a trance.

Your fingers worked carefully, threading through her scalp with a tenderness that eased the weight she carried. She found herself humming softly as you worked, the tension in her shoulders melting away with each gentle stroke.

It was so small, so simple, but she’d stared at you for a moment, the words catching in her throat.

It amazed her how you always seemed to notice the things she needed before she did. You didn’t make a show of it, didn’t ask for thanks or praise. Taking care of her came as naturally to you as breathing.

Afterward, life seems all that brighter. Easier to breath, knowing that she could count on you.

4) Getting her vulnerability

The anniversary of her dad’s death was closing in like a shadow. Abby felt it in the air, in her nightmares, in the way her body refused to let her rest.

Night after night, she woke up shaking, clutching at her chest, and every time, you were there—soft whispers, steady hands, holding her like she wasn’t coming apart at the seams.

But she hated herself for it. Hated waking you, hated seeing the concern in your eyes, hated the thought of you realizing just how much of a mess she really was. People had left for less.

And maybe you would, too.

Many people, both lovers and friends, had been uncomfortable with the ghosts of her past—her dad, her losses, the weight she carried. They either tiptoed around it or distanced themselves when it became too much. She didn’t exactly blame them.

But you faced it with her. You didn’t try to fix her or tell her to “move on.” You just stayed, listened, and made her feel like she wasn’t broken.

You stood by her, with no pressure, no expectation, no need to “make her better.”

“You don’t always have to be the strong one,” you told her one night, after she tried so hard to stop her body from shaking after one particularly harsh dream.

It was something no one had ever said to her before, and it stuck with her. It gave her the strength to turn around and look at you while tears started down her cheeks, the darkness not managing to conceal them entirely. But it was alright.

You were there.

“Was it about your dad?” you whispered, not pushing but encouraging. Silence filled the space the question left.

“No.” She finally answered, her voice unsteady in a way that she loathed. “We…we were on a patrol, and when I came back everything was destroyed. Burned to the ground. And you were….” Her words stuck, her lower lip trembling ever so slightly. “You were gone. You were…g-god, you were—“

Almost immediately, you hugged her, cradling her head to your chest. You were soft and warm, the steady beating of your heart thumping under her ear. It was almost scary, how comfortable it was.

“I’m right here,” you murmured softly, your hand gently running through her hair. “Hear my heart. Focus on my breaths. We’re together, Abby. We’re okay.”

The words settled over her like a balm, though the ache in her chest didn’t fully ease. The images from her nightmare still lingered—haunting, visceral, unshakable. But your presence, your warmth, gave her something solid to cling to. A light in the darkness.

“I hate it,” she finally whispered, voice raw. “I hate that I can’t protect everyone. That everyone seems to just…go eventually. And that I can’t do anything about it.”

You pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, your eyes soft as you wiped away her tears. Your touch was gentle, your expression firm but kind.

“Abby, you don’t have to carry the world on your shoulders.”

She shook her head, her brow furrowing in frustration. “But what if I lose you? What if I can’t stop it?”

“You won’t lose me,” you said firmly, your hands cupping her face. “And even if the worst happens, it’s not because you failed. It’s because the world is cruel sometimes. But no matter what, I need you to know that you’re not alone in this.”

Her lips quivered, another tear slipping down her cheek, but she didn’t look away. For once, she let herself be seen—completely, raw and exposed.

“You don’t have to be strong all the time, Abs.” You patiently reminded. “It’s okay to let someone else carry the weight sometimes.”

You continued, your voice steady. “You have me.”

Abby let out a shuddering breath, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to truly let go. She melted into your embrace, burying her face in your neck as the last of her resistance crumbled.

You stayed like that, holding her through the quiet sobs, through the silence that followed. When she finally spoke again, her voice was soft, almost a whisper.

“Thank you,” she said. “For staying.”

You pressed a kiss to her temple, your hand still running soothingly through her hair. “Always,” you replied. “I’ll always stay, Abby.”

BONUS

+) Not minding her overprotective nature

Everyone knows Abby is a deeply loyal person. She wants her loved ones to be safe more than anything, and she is willing to do anything for them. That usually manifested as her being slightly overprotective at times.

With you, it happened more often than not. She would step in at the slightest sign of you having any issue. Usually, she did it through small gestures that were partly unconscious to her. Like knowing your schedule by heart and accompanying you to your room late at night with a secure hand on your lower back. Happily listening to your rambling while still keeping an eye out.

Watching over you in every room came naturally to her.

She was particularly tense when you, as the executive chef, asked for permission to assist in a supply run and gather some materials. Abby always insisted that you only go when she was available. She didn’t trust anyone else to take care of you like she did.

The most dramatic displays of her protectiveness came when you were confronted by recruits making greedy demands.

“Back off,” she practically growled, appearing behind you like a shadow. The person usually stammered, probably not conscious of who your girlfriend was until her imposing frame stood threateningly in front of them.

Afterward, she turned to you, all the aggression melting away as she gave you soft eyes. “You good?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, I’m good.”

And you meant it—being with Abby made you feel safe in a way you never had before.

You weren’t exactly “on the frontlines” material. You arrived at the WLF when you were pretty young, and after going through everything, even the sight of a gun left you uneasy. So when Isaac saw your cooking abilities, he allowed you to stay at the base under the title of side-line cook. You eventually rose through the ranks, and that was that.

You preferred dealing with narcissistic soldiers over facing those vicious creatures. In a way, you grew accustomed to being pushed around, even though you knew how to defend yourself. But that all changed when you met Abby.

Standing at 5’9 and with a build that seemed crafted by the gods themselves, it was safe to say people left you alone after associating with her. So, even if you knew how to stand your ground, you enjoyed being protected by her.

You didn’t mind when she walked ahead of you during runs, her broad shoulders shielding you from any threat that could come your way. When she insisted on carrying the heavier bag or checking your gun a couple of times before leaving—just in case.

Not even when she glared at anyone who looked at you for more than five seconds in a way she deemed unacceptable.

You didn’t mind any of it because you knew it came from a strong sense of caring. That’s who she was. She cared deeply.

So, whenever she hovered near as you collected some herbs just a little outside the perimeter of the stadium (an area kept clear of infected), her eyes following your every move, you didn’t roll your eyes or brush her off. Instead, you smiled softly, glancing up at her as she leaned against a tree, arms crossed.

“You don’t have to watch me like a hawk, you know,” you teased lightly. “This is a pretty safe zone.”

She shrugged. “Doesn’t mean I’m not gonna keep an eye out.”

Setting the basket down, you stood and moved next to her, gently nudging her to sit. She understood your intentions—she always did—and with her back against the trunk of the tree, she made space for you to settle between her legs, resting against her.

“I know,” you said, leaning into her warmth. “And I appreciate it.”

Abby’s expression softened, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. “You don’t think I’m… too much?”

“Not at all,” you said, glancing back at her and managing to place a soft kiss on the side of her jaw. “You make me feel safe. That’s never too much.”

She didn’t say anything, just looked at you with that quiet, steady gaze that always made you feel like you were the center of her world.

And when she reached out to embrace you, resting her head in the crook of your neck, her touch so gentle, you knew you wouldn’t trade her protectiveness for anything.

[kmomof4]

New Year's Revelations A New Years Fic by kmomof4

Here's my third offering for Winter/Holiday Bingo!! And while I am stretching the prompt - Bah Humbug - a bit, I'm counting it and declaring Bingo!!! I figured since Emma and Killian are watching A Christmas Carol, it worked.

And now on to the fic! Many thanks to @jrob64 for beta services and to @hollyethecurious for keeping the Bingo challenge going through the holidays!!!

Rating: T

Words: Almost 3100

Tags: New Year's Fic, Holiday Fluff, Bingo Fic

On ao3

Tagging the usuals. Please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed.

@jrob64 @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @the-darkdragonfly @jennjenn615

@donteattheappleshook @undercaffinatednightmare @pirateherokillian @cocohook38 @qualitycoffeethings

@booksteaandtoomuchtv @superchocovian @motherkatereloyshipper @snowbellewells  @djlbg

@lfh1226-linda @xarandomdreamx @tiganasummertree @bluewildcatfanatic @anmylica

@laianely @resident-of-storybrooke @exhaustedpirate @gingerchangeling @caught-in-the-filter

@ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite @captainswan-kellie

@soniccat @beckettj @teamhook @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jonesfandomfanatic

@elfiola @zaharadessert @ilovemesomekillianjones @mie779 @kymbersmith-90

@suwya @veryverynotgoodwrites @myfearless-love 

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

Bingo Prompt: Bah Humbug

New Year's Revelations

Emma Swan stomped down the hall toward her apartment, grumbling the entire way. She’d been gone the better part of a week, over Christmas Eve and Day no less, chasing a skip who thought he’d be able to make it into Canada before she got him. He didn’t succeed, of course - Emma Swan always caught her man - but it did mean that she had to forgo her favorite Christmas tradition of watching A Christmas Carol, The Musical on Christmas Eve and then enjoying Christmas brunch with her brother and sister-in-law, plus her entire extended family. 

She got to her door and was just inserting the key in the lock when her neighbor, Killian Jones poked his head out of his door and spoke.

“What’s the news, Swan?” He stepped out into the hallway, his brow furrowed in concern. “I could hear you and your grumbling all the way in my living room. Is everything alright? Haven’t seen you in a few days.”

Emma turned to him and hoped her cheeks weren’t actually as red as she thought they might be, or if they were, her smoking hot neighbor would simply attribute their rosy hue to the cold temperature outside. As soon as her eyes landed on him, her stomach flipped the way it always did when she saw him. She hoped he wasn’t aware of that either.

“I was chasing a skip,” she said, irritation dripping from her words. “He thought he could make it to Canada.”

Killian propped himself up on the door jamb and waggled his eyebrows flirtatiously at her. He was rewarded with the twitching of the corner of her lips and an eye roll that never failed to make him grin in delight.

“I have no doubt that you set him straight on that particular issue,” he replied. 

“Of course,” she said with a proud smirk.

“But that doesn’t account for the stomping and grumbling I could hear,” he repeated.

“Oh,” she said, her smirk disappearing to be replaced by a thoroughly disgruntled frown. “The payday may have really been worth it, but since I wasn’t home on Christmas Eve and Day, I missed my favorite Christmas traditions.”

“I’m sorry, Swan,” he commiserated. “What were those traditions, if you don’t mind me asking?”

The blush that touched her cheeks was utterly adorable and Killian’s heart fluttered. She bit her bottom lip and he couldn’t help but picture himself doing the same as he kissed her the way he’d wanted to since the day they met. She was a tough lass, and in the six months since he’d moved in down the hall from her, she’d always rebuffed his flirtatious advances with a knowing smirk and eye roll. But Killian was nothing if not patient and in those same six months, she’d lowered her walls just enough for him to realize that Emma Swan’s heart was a precious treasure and should be protected at all costs. He was in this for the long haul, after all. As his older brother was fond of saying, a man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets.

“I, ah,” she stammered briefly, “On Christmas Eve, I like to watch A Christmas Carol, The Musical,” she admitted bashfully. “It’s my favorite of all the adaptations.” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that version,” Killian said, a little stunned at the revelation. A Christmas Carol was one of his favorite Christmas stories and he thought he’d seen every movie out there.

Emma’s countenance turned wistful and this time Killian’s heart twisted in sympathy.

“Oh, it's wonderful,” she shared. “A couple of the songs never fail to make me cry, no matter how many times I’ve seen it.” The frown returned. “But that Ozman asshole kept me from it this year. And now I have to wait…” she trailed away for a moment, obviously doing the math in her head, “358 days to watch it.”

“Pfft,” Killian blurted out. “Nonsense, Swan. It’s only the seventh day of Christmas.” She stared at him blankly. “You know,” he continued, cautiously, “the Twelve Days of Christmas? Seven swans a swimming? You do know the song don’t you?”

“Well, yeah,” she huffed. “Of course, I do. But what does that have to do with watching my favorite Christmas movie?”

“Christmas movies and shows and food and all the other Christmas accoutrements,” he explained, “can and should be enjoyed all the way through the Twelve Days of Christmas. Which ends on January 5th. And the argument can be made that Christmas doesn’t end until the evening of the 6th, Epiphany, when the magi visited the Baby Jesus.” 

Emma continued to stare at him, her eyes wide and jaw hanging open just slightly. Killian scratched behind his ear bashfully.

“All that to say, Swan,” he continued, “there’s no reason to wait an entire year to watch your favorite Christmas movie since it’s still technically Christmas.”

“Huh,” she breathed. “Well, I guess not.” She turned back to her door, but then suddenly turned back to him, her blush back in full force. “Would you like to watch it with me?” she asked. “You said you hadn’t heard of it before.”

Killian couldn’t stop the grin that took over his face. “I’d be delighted to, Swan. Thank you for the invitation. Can I bring anything to snack on or drink?”

“All I have to eat is Granny’s fruit cake she gave everyone on the floor on Christmas Eve,” she said, referring to the fierce, but kindly old woman who lived in 3A nearest the elevator on their floor. “She caught me just as I was leaving. I also have the fixings for hot chocolate.”

“I’ll bring us some sustenance then. What time should I come over?”

“Give me an hour to take a bath and get the grime off me.”

Killian nodded. “I’ll see you in an hour, Swan.”

~*~*~

An hour later, Killian stood at Emma’s door balancing a charcuterie board he’d just picked up from the local market down on the corner and a bottle of champagne the proprietor had recommended to accompany it. He hoped he wasn’t overstepping by bringing the alcohol, but it was New Year’s Eve after all, and he couldn’t help but hope that after a glass or two of the bubbly, he’d be able to summon the courage to tell Emma how he felt and ask to court her as a woman like her deserved.

Emma opened the door and Killian’s nervousness melted away. She was dressed in warm flannel pjs with red HO HO HO’s all over it. It, and she, were both so cute, he almost laughed in delight.

Her eyes lit up when she saw him and she hurriedly took the board from him.

“You didn’t have to do this, Killian!” she protested, but without any real heat.

“Of course I did, Swan,” he countered. “When you shared what you had to eat, I knew we’d need more than that, so I put in an online order with Mr. Clark down the street. Granny was very sweet to share the fruit cake with us,” he continued, “with all the time and effort she put into it, but after one slice, I think it might be put to better use as a paperweight. Or a doorstop.”

Emma snorted in surprise and led him into her apartment. “I actually really like it and take it to David and Mary Margaret’s Christmas Day brunch every year. Another of my traditions I had to miss out on because of that bastard,” she threw over her shoulder as she put the charcuterie board on the kitchen counter. “There’s enough people there that most of it gets eaten, and I can enjoy the rest without the guilt. But don’t let Granny fool you,” she whispered conspiratorially, “She gets the fruit cake from the Collin Street Bakery in Texas. She doesn’t know that I know her secret,” she continued with a wink, making Killian laugh heartily. 

“Well, her secret is safe with me, as well,” Killian assured her. He placed the champagne on the counter next to the board. “I hope you don’t mind, but Mr. Clark suggested it, and since it’s New Year’s Eve…”

“Oh, no,” she said, her eyebrows rising in surprise. “I don’t mind at all. But you don’t have any New Year’s plans? No date to ring the new year in with?” Her eyes were looking everywhere except at him and hope filled Killian’s heart. Perhaps she wasn’t as indifferent to him as she purported to be.

“Ah, no, Swan,” he admitted, bashfully, scratching behind his ear again. “Teaching at the university didn’t allow me much time to develop a social life this semester. And I’d normally be spending the holidays with my brother and sister-in-law, but she had an emergency c-section on Christmas Eve and has only just gotten home from the hospital. So I’m waiting a couple more days before heading up. Give them a chance to settle in with my brand new nephew.”

“How exciting,” Emma said with a smile, then her eyes softened as she continued. “You’re a good brother, Killian.”

Killian smiled and set to uncovering the board while Emma rummaged in the cabinets for some wine glasses. Once she found some, they started loading their plates with the culinary delights presented on the board. Deciding to save the champagne for later, Emma prepared them both a hot chocolate to start with before settling down on the floor between the sofa and coffee table. Killian had been sitting comfortably at one end of the sofa, his plate on the coffee table, but when she sat, he joined her on the floor.

“At least until we’re done eating,” she explained, shyly. She woke the tv up and pressed play to start the movie.

Killian had to admit, he could see why this adaptation of A Christmas Carol was Emma’s favorite. The performances, especially by Kelsey Grammer as Scrooge, were outstanding and the music sent his spirit soaring. Almost as much as did Emma cuddling into his side during Marley’s appearance. He’d seen many movies and even live performances of A Christmas Carol over the years, with that particular scene running the gamut between humorous and terrifying. This one leaned hard toward the latter and Killian couldn’t tell if his thundering heartbeat was from the scene or the thrill of placing his arm around Emma’s shoulder when she buried her head in his chest.

“I had nightmares after watching this the first time,” she confided, as Jacob Marley, played by Jason Alexander, began to sing of the horror of the links he’d formed with his own hands during his lifetime. “And I haven’t watched the scene since.” Her voice wasn’t much above a whisper, but this close to her mouth, Killian had no trouble hearing her words. “But the song is pretty spectacular.”

Killian had to agree.

As the movie went on, Emma never moved from his side and he rejoiced that she seemed not to mind his affectionate touches - stroking her arm, running his fingers through her golden hair - as they watched. His eyes filled with tears at the tender affection between young Ebenezer Scrooge and his lady love, Emily, and when Emma looked up at him to gauge his reaction to their duet - her favorite song in the movie - Killian’s heart nearly stopped at the brief glimpse of naked longing he thought, he hoped, he saw in her eyes before her emotions were once again shuttered behind the wall he’d patiently chipped away at for six months.

The joy and delight of the Ghost of Christmas Present and the scenes he showed Scrooge from Christmas Day reminded Killian of the many blessings in his life - not the least of which was the woman in his arms - and to take pleasure in the small things that most people tend to overlook. And when the old blind woman was revealed to be the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Be, Killian saw his own opportunity, along with Ebenezer Scrooge, to change the trajectory of his life. If he could be brave enough to take that first step and open his heart to love.

Happy tears rolled down Emma’s cheeks as the final few songs blended one into another into another, and Killian’s rolled down his face as well to be absorbed by her hair as his head rested on hers.

Yes, A Christmas Carol was one of his very favorite stories of all time, not just for Christmas, but the musical score of this movie enhanced his enjoyment to the very heights and shot the adaptation to the top of his Christmas watch list forever and ever, amen.

Tiny Tim had just declared “God bless us, every one!” and Scrooge lifted his joyful face to the morning sun when Emma moved away from his side and turned to look at him, a beaming smile on her face.

“Well?” she asked, “What did you think?”

Killian’s smile matched her own as he gathered his thoughts.

“You were right.” The squeal that met his statement, startled him a bit. Never in their six month acquaintance had Emma been so open and free with him as she had been this night, and he never would have guessed that somewhere in the depths of her heart lived a little girl who’d delight like this in sharing a beloved movie with a friend. He was obviously wrong about that and that knowledge gave him the impetus to shore up his courage and commit to words the sentiments in his heart.

“It was truly wonderful and I completely understand and agree with your assessment that it’s the best adaptation out there,” he continued.

Emma clapped in delight, glee covering her face before she snuggled back into his side, her head cushioned on his chest, her arms wrapped around his waist.

“I knew you’d love it,” she gushed before suddenly pulling back, nervousness taking over the joy on her countenance. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I didn’t mean to overstep.” She bit her lip, cheeks flaming as her eyes darted around, looking everywhere except at him. “I usually… don’t…”

Killian hurriedly took her hands in his own, realizing exactly what she was trying to say.

“Emma, no, please,” he said, entirely indifferent to the pleading note in his voice. “You didn’t overstep at all. I’ve wanted to be close to you like this ever since we met. I’ve merely tried to follow your lead in the development of our friendship…” he trailed away, his eyes darting around the room for a moment before settling on hers again, “of our, ah, relationship,” he finished softly. 

He released her hand and reached up and stroked the back of his hand down the side of her face.

“There’s nothing I’d love more than the opportunity to win your heart.”

“Really?” she breathed. The fear mixed with vulnerability he saw in her eyes made his heart clench and he held her gaze and prayed that she’d clearly see everything he wanted to say reflected there.

“Really, Emma,” he assured her. “Your heart is a priceless treasure and I would be honored if you’d deem me worthy of holding and protecting it.”

The fear in her eyes melted away, and was replaced by a gentle shyness that he never would have guessed was hidden by those walls of hers she showed the world at large. That knowledge nearly made him gasp in surprise as she slowly leaned back in, searching his gaze for - he assumed - the veracity of his words. She must have found what she was looking for as she made herself comfortable again using him as a makeshift pillow.

He wrapped his own arms around her and placed a gentle kiss on the crown of her head.

“Does this mean…”

He could feel her smile against his chest as a small giggle escaped her.

“Yes, Killian,” she replied before looking back up at him. Killian’s gaze bounced back and forth for a moment between her twin veridian pools before he lowered his head and captured her lips with his own.

It was pure sweetness and magic and Killian could have drowned in her. Then his phone alarm chose to go off at that moment. He fumbled for a bit, not wanting the kiss to end, trying to reach his phone and turn the blasted signal off without parting from Emma, but it soon became clear that wasn’t happening. He released her and pulled the phone out of his pocket, groaning in realization.

“I set the alarm for ten to midnight, to wake myself up for the ball drop.”

Emma smirked. “Your own tradition you don’t like to miss, I guess?” she asked.

Killian waggled his eyebrows at her. “I’d gladly have missed it to keep kissing you,” he quipped.

Emma suddenly jumped up and ran for the kitchen, bringing back the champagne he’d brought, along with the two wine glasses.

“We can ring in the new year properly,” she informed him. “Will you please go bring the food in?”

“Of course,” he replied, rising and going to the kitchen. By the time he got back out to the living room, she’d pulled up the New York City ball drop on the tv and was anxiously waiting for him to arrive to open the bottle. 

He popped the champagne and poured them both a glass just as the final countdown began.

“Ten, nine, eight, seven,” they counted together, their gazes fixed on one another rather than the screen. “Six, five, four, three…” Their voices got softer and softer the closer to the end they got. “Two, one…”

“Happy New Year, Emma,” he whispered.

“Happy New Year, Killian,” she whispered back.

This time when he captured her lips, nothing interrupted them until the sun rose on New Year's Day, shining into Emma’s bedroom since she’d neglected to close her blackout curtains when they’d stumbled in the night before - much too preoccupied with each other to bother with a little thing like curtains.

Emma groaned in annoyance and turned away from the window, burying her face in Killian’s naked chest, only to groan louder when he jumped up, ran to the window, shut the drapes, and jumped back into bed, gathering her back in his arms. Her groan of annoyance turned into a hum of contentment as she snuggled back into him.

“Go back to sleep, my love,” he whispered. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

The End

~*~*~

Happy New Year everyone!!! Thank you for reading and sharing!!! I'd love to hear what you think! See y'all in 2025!!!

[rianemorgan]

Title: Stealing HER Fate

Summary: In an alternate take on the Miraculous Ladybug universe, an outsider wakes up in Marinette's world and steals her fate as Ladybug, determined to claim the life and destiny that wasn’t hers. With manipulative cunning, the reader becomes Paris’ celebrated heroine, earning Adrien’s love and the world’s admiration while ensuring Marinette never steps into the role of Ladybug across all timelines.

⚠️ Warnings ⚠️

Gaslighting and manipulation, Villainous protagonist, Bittersweet outcomes,and Character alteration and reimagination.

Word Count: 3,718

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You never expected to wake up in Paris—not the Paris you knew, but a version straight out of a TV screen. The last thing you remembered was falling asleep after yet another late-night binge of Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Chat Noir, grumbling about how Marinette didn’t deserve the Miraculous of the Ladybug. She was clumsy, obsessive, and a borderline stalker when it came to Adrien.

“She doesn’t deserve it,” you’d mutter to yourself, turning off the screen. “I could do so much better.”

When you woke up, everything felt… different.

You weren’t in your bed, in your small, cozy apartment back in your real life. Instead, you were in a room you didn’t recognize, adorned with pictures of a family you’d never seen before. The soft morning light seeped through lacy curtains, and outside, the faint sound of Parisian streets hummed. Paris.

No. It couldn’t be.

You bolted upright, scanning the room. It was utterly surreal, yet painfully familiar. The pictures of the Eiffel Tower, the smell of croissants wafting through the house—this was Paris. But it wasn’t your Paris. It was the Paris of Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Chat Noir.

You stumbled to the mirror, half-expecting to see your usual face. But no, it was still you, albeit… younger. A moment of panic set in, but the surreal reality quickly overtook it. Somehow, impossibly, you were in the Miraculous universe. And if you were here, you knew exactly what was going to happen next.

Your initial excitement quickly morphed into envy. Marinette, in all her awkwardness, was destined to become the heroine, to wield the Ladybug Miraculous and save Paris. But why? You were smarter, more decisive, and less distracted. If anyone deserved that kind of power, it was you.

And then you realized—you could take it.

The memory of the Origins episode was fresh in your mind. Master Fu would soon be in trouble, and Marinette was supposed to save him. But if you acted first, you could claim the Miraculous and rewrite destiny itself.

The plan was simple: stay close to Marinette, wait for the right moment, and steal her fate.

That morning, your new parents—kind strangers who felt oddly warm—called you down to breakfast. They smiled as though you’d always been their child, and while it was disconcerting, you played along. Over croissants and jam, your mother handed you a small box of mooncake. “For your first day at your new school,” she said with a smile.

You nodded, murmuring your thanks. But your mind was already racing. You knew the plot. You knew what today would bring. You were determined to take the chance Marinette was supposed to have. After all, why not? If fate had given you this opportunity, then wasn’t it meant to be yours?

The streets of Paris were just as lively as you imagined, the sights both foreign and familiar. You approached the school with your cookies in hand, keeping an eye out for the key moment.

At the crosswalk, you saw him: Master Fu, the elderly guardian of the Miraculouses, hobbling across the street. You watched from a distance, your heart pounding as you spotted the scene unfolding. This was the moment. This was where Marinette was supposed to step in.  

But not today.

You ran forward, reaching him just in time. “Sir, watch out!” you shouted, grabbing his arm and pulling him to safety. The car whizzed by, the driver honking angrily.

Master Fu looked up at you with a warm, grateful smile. “Thank you, young lady. That was very brave of you.”

You smiled warmly, masking your inner glee. “It was nothing, sir. Are you okay?”

He nodded, adjusting his cane. He wobbled precariously, and you helped steady  him. “Here, let me help you,” you said, guiding him to the sidewalk.

“That’s very kind of you,” he said, his voice filled with gratitude.

You noticed Marinette standing a few steps away, her box of macarons clutched tightly. She had seen the whole thing, but she hadn’t had a chance to act. You shot her a quick glance, a small smirk playing on your lips.

Would you like one of these?” you asked, pulling a mooncake from the box and handing it to Master Fu.

“Thank you,” he said, taking it with a smile. “You’re a very thoughtful young lady.”

Marinette hesitated, her eyes darting between you and Master Fu. “Um… I was going to—”

“Oh, were you?” you interrupted, feigning surprise. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

Marinette frowned but didn’t respond. She tightened her grip on her macarons and walked away, her excitement from earlier dimmed.

As you made your way to school, a flicker of guilt passed through you. You now destroy Marinette’s chance to be Ladybug. No. You stole her chance to be Ladybug. But she didn’t need to be Ladybug. You were here now, and you would be better.

The classroom buzzed with energy as you entered. Marinette Dupain-Cheng sat near the front, she stares at you but quickly looks away. It's obvious she didn’t like you when a frown curved her mouth. You didn’t care, you're not here to be friends with her anyways. You took a seat a few rows away, watching as the class dynamics played out like clockwork: Chloé Bourgeois asserting her dominance, and Alya standing up for Marinette, But your focus was elsewhere. Your mind was on what would come later.

Later that day, the akuma attack on Stoneheart interrupted class. You feigned fear like everyone else, though inside, you were buzzing with anticipation. This was how the story began.

Because of what happened, school was suspended, sending every student back to the safety of their homes. You returned home to find a small ornate box on your desk. You opened it with trembling hands, revealing the Ladybug Miraculous. Tikki appeared, her tiny figure glowing with excitement.

You fake shout in surprise, asking what she is.

“Hello! I’m Tikki, your kwami. And Y/N, you’ve been chosen to wield the Ladybug Miraculous and protect Paris!”

You feigned shock, though inwardly you were thrilled. “Me? Are you sure? I’m just… I don’t know if I can do this.”

Tikki’s eyes sparkled. “You can. I believe in you. You have the courage and heart to protect Paris! Just wear the earring and say the phrase: Spots On!”

Meanwhile, Marinette couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Her first day had started with such promise, but it had ended with a strange, gnawing emptiness.

She vented to Alya the next day. “It’s just… that girl, she swooped in and saved that man. I wanted to help, but she just… took over.”

Alya raised an eyebrow. “You mean Y/N? I don’t know her that well, but she seemed nice enough. Maybe you’re just thinking too much about it, Marinette.”

Marinette frowned. “Maybe…”

But the doubt lingered.

The battle against Stoneheart played out just as you had anticipated, though with one key difference: you were in control and you already knew what to do. With the help of Chat Noir, you used your Lucky Charm to defeat the villain and purify the akuma, restoring Ivan to normal.

The people of Paris cheered as you stood victorious. You had done it. You were Ladybug.

Days turned into weeks, and you quickly became the perfect hero Paris needed. You saved the city countless times, each victory cementing your role as its protector. Fighting alongside Chat Noir was exhilarating. The people adored you, showering you with praise and gratitude.

But Marinette hated you. She didn’t hide it, either. She avoided you at school, her glares sharp enough to cut glass whenever you crossed paths.

You returned the sentiment. Marinette’s bitterness annoys you to no end. 

“I know you’re hiding something!! You’re not what they say you are!” Marinette snapped one day after school. “I know it!! You stole something from me!!

You smirked, leaning against a wall. “I don’t know what you're talking about Marinette, you can’t just convict me without evidence~ who knows I might slip and suddenly post this to the internet~” You said whilst holding a phone with evidence of Marinette stalking adrien.

Her face turned a lot more pale than it already was, her hands balled into fists, but she said nothing, storming off.

Despite your animosity, you excelled as Ladybug. Every akuma was defeated swiftly, every crisis averted. You were meticulous, calculating, and unyielding. Where Marinette would have hesitated, you acted decisively. 

Paris flourished under your protection, and even Chat Noir—still oblivious to your identity—admired your skill and determination. 

“You’re amazing, Ladybug,” Chat said one night after a battle. “I can’t imagine anyone else doing what you do.”

You smiled, leaning casually against a rooftop ledge. “Thanks, Chat. It’s nice to hear that.”

But deep down, you knew the truth. You hadn’t just stolen Marinette’s fate—you’d rewritten it entirely. And while guilt occasionally gnawed at you, the adoration of Paris drowned it out.

This was your destiny now, and you wouldn’t let anyone take it from you.

Marinette remained an ordinary girl, but something in her seemed to shift. She began to grow more suspicious of you, plagued by dreams where she was Ladybug.

The dreams started weeks later. Marinette woke up in a cold sweat, her heart pounding. In her dreams, she was Ladybug—fighting akumas, swinging through the city, standing beside Chat Noir.

“I am Ladybug..”

But when she woke up, reality hit her like a brick wall. That wasn’t her life. It was yours.

“No!! I am supposed to be Ladybug!!”

Confused and angry, she cornered you one day after class, eyes blazing with determination. “I know,” she said, her voice trembling with anger. “I know I was supposed to be Ladybug.”

You tilted your head, a cold smile playing on your lips. “Oh? And what makes you think that?”

“It feels real,” she insisted. “Like it’s a memory, not just a dream. No. I know it's real!! I am Ladybug!! You stole it from me! You're a thief Y/N!!”

You stepped closer, your voice dropping to a low, mocking tone. “Maybe I did. and Maybe I am. But let’s face it, Marinette—you’re no hero. You’re obsessive, and distracted by your crush on Adrien. Your stalker behavior is not something a heroine should possess. Paris deserves better, and that’s me. I already have the Miraculous, and doing a REALLY GREAT job at it, what makes you think you deserve it anymore??”

Her face flushed with anger, but she had no response. You walked away, triumphant. The Miraculous was no longer hers to claim, and you will make sure it stayed that way.

Paris sparkled under the moonlight as you stood on the Eiffel Tower, gazing over the city you had come to love—and rule as its heroine. With the weight of the Ladybug Miraculous and the Guardianship on your shoulders, you felt untouchable.

That was until a glowing portal split the sky open.

Out stepped Bunnix, her expression hard and accusing. She didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “We need to talk, Ladybug.”

You crossed your arms, feigning nonchalance. “Bunnix. To what do I owe the pleasure of a time traveler’s visit?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Cut the act. You know why I’m here.”

Chat Noir appeared at your side, his baton at the ready. “What’s going on, Bunnix? You seem… tense.”

Bunnix pointed at you. “She’s not supposed to be Ladybug.”

Chat Noir blinked, stepping protectively in front of you. “What are you talking about? She’s Ladybug. She’s saved Paris more times than we can count!”

“She’s not supposed to be here,” she said, her voice sharp as her glowing portal shimmered behind her. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng was supposed to be Ladybug. This version of reality shouldn’t exist! You’ve disrupted everything!”

You crossed your arms, unfazed. “Paris is safe, isn’t it? I’ve done my job. Heck I even did a good job saving this world”

Bunnix stepped closer, her tone accusatory. “You’ve changed it, I’ve seen it. Marinette was supposed to save Master Fu. She was supposed to receive the Miraculous. But you—you interfered. You stole her destiny!!”

Chat Noir stood protectively in front of you. “Hey, back off. Ladybug’s saved this city countless times. Who cares what was ‘supposed’ to happen and who can receive the Miraculous?!”

Bunnix glared at you both. “This isn’t just about this world. The timelines are unraveling because of her!”

You smirked, letting your mask of innocence drop. You gently push Chat noir aside, stepping closer to Bunnix.

“It doesn’t matter what was supposed to happen. I’m Ladybug now. I’m the Guardian, the center of this world. And if Chat Noir protecting me despite what I did isn’t proof enough that her fate as Ladybug now officially belongs to me… *smirk* Haven’t realized it yet? This world is now synchronizing with me, just like how a world favors the protagonist… Marinette wasn’t fit for this responsibility, and I made sure Paris got the hero it deserves. And unfortunately for her, this world agrees, whether you like it or not~” You whispered lowly to her

Bunnix clenched her fists. “You’ve broken the balance. Do you realize what you’ve done? The entire multiverse is at risk!”

You shrugged. “Then I’ll fix it. As the Guardian, I have authority over all the Miraculouses, including yours.”

Bunnix’s eyes widened in realization. “You wouldn’t—”

With a wave of your hand, you summoned the Bunny Miraculous. The portal behind Bunnix flickered and closed as her powers were stripped away. She staggered, powerless, and glared at you with fury.

“You can’t do this!” she shouted as she was returned to the timeline she came from.

“Oh, I can,” you said, your voice icy. “And I will.”

 You donned the Bunny Miraculous and rewrote reality, ensuring Marinette never became Ladybug in any timeline.

You stood tall, the portal you had summoned with Fluff's guidance shimmered with an ethereal glow, its swirling energies casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the rooftop. Beside you, Chat Noir’s green eyes were filled with uncertainty, a rare crack in his usually confident demeanor.

“Ladybug,” Chat Noir said softly, his voice almost pleading, “are you sure this is the right thing to do? I trust you, but... tampering with time feels... dangerous.”

You turned to him, a small, serene smile gracing your lips, the halo of your presence making him instinctively relax. The effect was subtle but undeniable—your words carried weight, as though the universe itself bent to support you. This power, this influence, wasn’t yours initially. You had stolen it, just like Marinette’s fate. But now, it was yours, and you wielded it masterfully.

“Chat Noir,” you began, your voice steady and filled with conviction, “this isn’t about what’s easy. It’s about what’s necessary.”

“But the timeline—changing things could destroy—”

“Destroy what, exactly?” you interrupted gently, your tone laced with practiced sincerity. “I’ve already disrupted it simply by being here. If I don’t act now, the balance will collapse entirely. I’ll vanish, Chat. We’ll vanish.”

He froze, his hands clenching tightly around his staff. “Vanish? What do you mean?”

Your expression softened, your red eyes glistening with what seemed like vulnerability. “I wasn’t meant to be here, remember? If the universe realizes I don’t belong, it’ll correct itself—and I’ll disappear, taking everything we’ve built with me. Paris will lose its Ladybug. You’ll lose me, Chat.”

The thought seemed to strike him deeply. His jaw tensed, his emerald gaze flickering with desperation. “I can’t let that happen. But why go to every timeline? Why stop... Marinette?”

You reached out, placing a gloved hand on his cheek. The gesture was intimate, calculated. “Because Marinette was never meant to have this power. She wasn’t strong enough. Look at what I’ve accomplished, Chat. Paris has never been safer. The people trust us, they trust me. Can you imagine what would’ve happened if someone weaker had been given this responsibility? She would’ve crumbled under the pressure, endangering everyone.”

Chat Noir looked away, guilt and hesitation written all over his face. “But... Marinette never seemed... bad.”

You tilted his chin back to face you, your voice a quiet murmur, dripping with affection and manipulation. “That’s because you don’t know what she would’ve done with this power. Trust me, Chat. I’m not doing this for myself—I’m doing it for Paris. For us.”

His resolve wavered, the pull of your halo overwhelming his doubts. The world revolved around you now, and it was only natural that he would follow your lead.

“I don’t want to lose you, Ladybug,” he finally admitted, his voice barely audible.

“You won’t,” you assured him, your fingers brushing against his. “But I need you to trust me. Together, we’ll ensure that this world—and every other—is safe and whole. I’ll fix everything. I promise.”

With a reluctant nod, Chat Noir stepped back, his staff lowering in submission. “I trust you, Milady. Always.”

The portal grew brighter, illuminating your face with a crimson glow as you stepped forward. Inwardly, you reveled in your triumph. This wasn’t just about fixing timelines or ensuring balance—it was about solidifying your place as the center of this world. The Ladybug. The hero. The one who mattered most.

Marinette would never again have the chance to be Ladybug, not in this timeline or any other. The universes would belong to you now. With one last glance at Chat Noir, you stepped through the portal, ready to rewrite reality itself.

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ADDITIONAL SCENARIO:

The sky above Paris was a canvas of pink and gold hues, a fitting backdrop for the triumphant end of an era. Hawkmoth had been defeated, his Miraculous reclaimed, and the balance of power restored. The Miracle Box was secured, its treasures now beyond the reach of those who would misuse them. For the first time in years, Paris was at peace, its people celebrating the heroes who had brought them here.

Standing atop the Eiffel Tower, you gazed over the city with Adrien by your side. The red and black of your Ladybug suit shimmered faintly in the setting sunlight, a symbol now synonymous with victory, hope, and resilience. Adrien, still in his Chat Noir guise but no longer bearing the same burdens, looked at you with admiration.

“You did it,” he said softly, a smile spreading across his face. “Ladybug, you saved everyone.”

The words should have brought unmitigated joy, and they did—partially. The world was safe, and Paris adored you. People cheered as your identity was revealed, their faith in their heroine unshaken. Even Adrien, your partner in battle and in life, stood unwaveringly by your side, his pride in you radiating like the sun.

Yet, beneath the surface, you couldn’t quite shake an unfamiliar tension. It wasn’t guilt, not exactly. It was a feeling you couldn’t name, a quiet unease that lingered despite the cheers and celebrations.

“Do you think it’s really over?” you asked, your voice barely louder than the wind.

Adrien’s hand found yours, squeezing gently. “It’s over, my Lady. You’ve done more than anyone could have ever asked for. Paris, no—the world owes you everything.” His green eyes met yours, filled with warmth and certainty. “I owe you everything.”

His words should have been enough, and in many ways, they were. You leaned against him, allowing the comfort of his presence to settle over you.

The streets below were alive with celebration. Parisians rejoiced, the weight of fear and uncertainty finally lifted. Even beyond Paris, the world had embraced you as their Ladybug, their symbol of hope. For the first time, everything felt aligned, as though the universe itself had recognized your place at its center.

And yet, in the quiet moments between Adrien’s reassurances and the city’s applause, that tension remained.

Elsewhere in Paris, Marinette sat on the balcony of her cozy apartment, a faint smile playing on her lips as she watched Luka strum his guitar. The melody was soft and soothing, wrapping around her like a warm embrace.

“I never thought I’d see the day,” she said, her voice wistful but not bitter.

Luka glanced up, his expression calm and understanding. “The city is safe now. That’s what matters.”

She nodded, her gaze drifting to the distant Eiffel Tower. She didn’t envy you—not entirely. She had carved out a life for herself, a happy one. The bakery was thriving, her designs were starting to gain recognition, and Luka’s steady presence brought her a sense of peace she hadn’t known she needed.

But deep down, there was an ache she couldn’t quite ignore. She had once dreamed of being Ladybug, of carrying the weight of the Miraculous and protecting Paris. That dream had been taken from her, rewritten in a way she couldn’t change. And while she didn’t begrudge your success—how could she? You had saved them all—there was a part of her that mourned what might have been.

“Do you think she’s happy?” Marinette asked suddenly, surprising even herself.

Luka’s fingers paused on the strings. “I think she did what she believed was right,” he said after a moment. “And I think she’s still figuring out what happiness looks like.”

Marinette nodded, her faint smile returning. It wasn’t the life she had imagined, but it was hers. And with Luka by her side, she could find contentment in that.

Back atop the Eiffel Tower, you stood with Adrien as the last rays of sunlight disappeared, casting the city in twilight. Paris was happy. The world was happy. And you were, too—or at least, you told yourself you were.

“Do you feel it?” Adrien asked, breaking the silence.

“Feel what?”

“The peace,” he said with a soft laugh. “It’s overwhelming. I’ve never seen Paris like this.”

You smiled, his words grounding you. “It’s everything I worked for.”

“And you deserve it,” he said firmly, pulling you into an embrace. “You deserve all of it.”

The weight of his belief in you was as comforting as it was daunting. For now, you let yourself believe it, let yourself bask in the happiness you had fought so hard to create.

Paris was safe, and you were its hero. The world had accepted you, embraced you, celebrated you. Yet, as you looked out over the city, the faint tension lingered—a quiet reminder that even in victory, some battles are never truly won.

THE END

[trashogram]

The inbox is open again!!! It's great to send asks again, but I'm most relieved that you didn't receive any troll asks ^^

So, let's kick off this new year with my re-write for;

Blitzø and Loona

Blitzø

Honestly, up until that Stolitz BS, I like Blitzø's character! He seems perfect for Hell, and although he's a murderous asshole, he has enough relatability(?) For the audience to engage with the protagonist outside of dark humor. So I don't think I would change Blitzø so much.

Well, one thing I'll change. Cut out all the dog piling he has gone through in Season 2. I mean, yeah, Blitzø needs to account for his actions and realize that he's only hurting himself in the long run. But he needs therapy and his found family coming together, not everyone in his life to call him a horrible person and not even offer him support or apologies when he needs it (I'm thinking of Fizzaroli specifically, not Stolas because I'm more than likely going to just erase the Stolitz. Yes, Fizz got hurt real bad in that fire, and he was led to believe Blitzø abandoned him. He needed that apology and the closure. But you know who else needed those two things? Blitzø, the guy who never meant to destroy everything. The guy who probably watched his mother die by that mistake, get kicked out by his father and be fed the same manipulation that Fizz was- all after he watched his own parent favor Fizzaroli because he made more money. Why does Fizz get a pass saying "I'm sorry" for never reaching out and assuming Blitzø wanted to hurt everyone?? Or even something like "If I had known..." or "It's not your fault"??? Maybe it's just me, but it's kinda bugging me that Blitzø is the one who has to apologize to everyone, but no one seems to see he needs some nurturing too.)

Oh! Knowing myself, I would have made Blitzø blind in his right eye, the one that got affected by the blast. Or at the very least, make it white to show it was affected. Can you imagine Blitzø with one red eye and one white eye, kinda like Sallie Mae's eye, and little hints to his partial blindness with him being more partial with his left side (like becoming ambidextrous or aiming a gun with his left side), or him bumping into things on his left side? Oh! Can you imagine how much cooler it'd be that with his blindness, he's able to become one of the top assasins in Hell?!

Those photos of Blitzø crossing himself out, I think I would change that. Cause like, everyone can see Blitzø's obvious self-hatred and they don't react at all to it?? Blitz would still hang pictures of his loved ones on the living room walls, but you'll notice that they all conveniently leave him out. It's all about Loona, Millie, Moxxie, even Barbie. But no Blitzø. It's a subtle detail that people in the show may miss. But if anyone goes to look through his room, you'll find photos of himself cut up, burnt, and shredded by his own hand. Some may even look like he cut himself out of some pictures in the living room.

One more thing that, knowing myself, I would have done is still keep Blitzø stalking his employees. But instead of it being him wanting to turn their OTP into an OT3, it stems more from how he was raised. Think about it, Blitzø, Barbie, Fizz, and any other kids who might have been part of the acts had the entire circus with them. Knowing myself, I would have made it that since Buckzo is such a deadbeat and only cared for Fizz, the other actors and clowns pitched in to help Tilla raise the twins. Especially as she grew sicker and sicker. So, to Blitzø, co-workers were also family. Him constantly prying into M&M's and Loona's lives is more him trying to recreate that big family he had. He'd constantly suggest they all might as well move in together. He'd refer Millie and Moxxie as Loona's aunt and uncle and proclaim himself as the uncle to their future kid ("Sir, we're not even mates!? We're just dating??" // "Not with that attitude you guys won't be!") etc. He feels like if they all aren't this huge family that work together, they'll all grow apart, and he'll be alone again. It'd still be Blitzø projecting his desire for love onto Millie and Moxxie, but in a more familial/platonic way, I guess?

But I also liked Blitzø just loving them and wanting to be part of their relationship/wanting a relationship like theirs. Poly love needs to be explored more in media imo and Blitzø definitely seems like the kind of guy to carry the polyamory flag at pride to me. So I want to keep this, but knowing myself if I was the one writing the show, I would have thought of the above route instead 😅 but I figured i should still share because why not? ^^

Loona

I saw some redesign of Loona that changed her to be 18, closer to age with Octavia and more like a kid. Honestly, I think I would have done that. Have Blitzø adopt Loona when she was 13, and by the time she can get her Hellbies shot, she's 18. It is important to show the fear and suffering kids that age out of the system are put through. But honestly, the show didn't do too good a job of that, I think. (And, this could just be me, but with all of the sexualized merch of Loona, it feels like Viv only made her 22 years old so they can have her smoke, drink and be furry bait for the show. Had this been any other creator, I wouldn't have thought this. But with Viv... yeah.) So yeah, in my re-write, Loona is younger. A legal adult (by our standards), but still a kid who is still figuring out herself and the world, if we're all being honest.

Apologies for the ranting. That'll be the last one, I promise.

Another reason for that age difference. In Hell, since she's just a hellhound and not seen as an actual child or person, anyone who takes a hellhound in can return them anytime they want while they're still minors. Loona has had owners who always returned her when she fought back. She was punished for simply standing up for herself in a society that sees her as nothing more than muscle at the most. So when Blitzø adopted her and proclaimed her as his daughter, she was skeptical. She kept her guard up around him and never called him Dad for five years, even though she wanted to in the last few years (the times she almost did though, she caught herself on time or said it so quietly Blitzø didn't catch it)

I would want to make an episode of her 18'th birthday, the final day that Blitzø can return her or kick her out to the streets, she's terrified. She's panicking in her room, switching between hugging herself and packing her valuables while she can and trying not to cry. Even though he's been nothing but caring towards her and has never given her up as his daughter before, today is the day that'll show if he really means it and or if she was right to keep him, Millie and Moxxie, at a distance. She tenses up when she hears a knock on her door before Blitzø cheerfully tells her he's got a surprise for her in the kitchen and mentally prepares herself. But when she goes outside, she's greeted with the sight of a gift on the counter next to two full plates of breakfast food, and the imp happily greeting her with "Happy birthday, Loony!" Before slowly beginning to cry as it dawns on him that she's all grown up now.

And there, Loona can really see Blitzø never saw her as an animal he can just return. She has a family with Blitzø. Her dad. That's when she can finally open up to him and let him in. And I guarantee you, they both would have cried.

... I'm not sure if I should include my OC in this. But if I can, then another reason for Blitzø adopting Loona when she was younger, it contrasts how Bella aged out of the system while Loona got to be adopted before she was. They both were still put through a lot since that was where they grew up, but Bella is just grateful that Loona made it out before she had to go through the same fate she did.

Of course, I'm definitely changing Loona's attitude and treatment towards Blitzø. Yeah, she's been through so much in the pound, but that doesn't give her the excuse to abuse others. I would have put more emphasis on Loona being more awkward and trying to stay at a distance from the others rather than her insulting or hurting them. She does verbally bite back a few times, but here it's treated as a kid who learned that as a defense mechanism against something she thought was an attack on her rather than "haha the wolf made the possum cry"

Maybe- MAYBE I'd have one time where Loona actually hurt Blitzø or the others. Like if she threw something in their general direction and it hit them unintentionally, or she shoves them away in a playful or startled manner and it was a lot stronger than she intended. But afterward, she realizes what she has done and tries to make it better, apologizing while she picks them up or cleans up the mess, hands shaking because she's convinced that she's going to get it now. Either Blitzø is going to treat her like everyone else has, or he's going to return her back to the pound. But the point is that it wouldn't be played for laughs. It's treated as something serious.

I'm unsure if I would have Loona drink and smoke. It is Hell, so I doubt underage usage is uncommon. But it can also be difficult to broach. If I did, though, Blitzø wouldn't just let it happen. That's his daughter wrecking herself before she's even fully grown. As someone who also stole his dad's booze and the other performers' smokes, he knows it's not healthy. When Loona is old enough, she can drink and smoke all she wants. But not when it'll really hurt her. It's unfamiliar to her to have someone care about her health outside of making sure she doesn't spread diseases, but that's one of the first signs that Blitzø truly cares about her.

And the little things that Loona does to show her own care would be shown more often. Even if she's still unsure to call Blitzø her father until the birthday episode, it's been five years since he took her in as his own. She wants these people to be her family, but she can't let her guard down too much yet. She'll put labels on food she knows belongs to who if they forgot to instead of just taking it for herself. She texts M&M what Blitzø is up to, so they'll be prepared when he drops in. And she'll check up on Blitzø whenever he holes himself up in the bedroom or bathroom.

Basically, instead of writing Loona as a one-dimensional moody teenager-but-not-really, I want to give her actual growth. Show how she's changes from the scarred pup in the pound and her self-destructive habits... Just like her father. Blitzø and Loona would mirror each other in certain ways despite how differently they grew up. Once his mother died, Blitzø had nobody. And when he saw Loona in the pound that day, with the same hopeless and scared look in her eyes that she tried to hide behind a defensive snarl, he saw himself. And he couldn't let her slip through the cracks.

Also, I'm considering giving her and Blitzø a sense of survivors guilt. She didn't seem to get along with many of the other hounds, but whether she did or not, she knows all too well how awful that place is. And how the hell could Blitzø not have survivors guilt after that fire?? Maybe one day, he could have talked to Loona and found out how she felt, and assured her how she shouldn't blame herself. It's not her fault that she got somewhere safe, and it's not her fault how the pound treats the hellhoubds inside. And maybe, as he's telling her all these things, he has a moment to himself when he realizes that that should apply to him as well.

This is all I've got so far, but I'm pretty sure I'm forgetting some things I wanted to add 😅 I'll just add it to the notes if I think of it. I hope you like these!

Next up is Barbie and Fizz, so stay tuned! I got big plans for them.

EEEEEEEEEE!!! I’m so happy to see more rewrites for HB from you! 💕 Your ideas are 🧑‍🍳 💋 top notch 😄

For Blitzø — I agree with you! I liked him initially bc he does fit as a protagonist in Hell. He should be an asshole, but with enough relate-ability or charm that the audience can hold onto throughout the series to remain invested. And I love the idea of Blitzø sustaining an injury beyond the scars, especially with you pitching ideas on how Blitzø adapts to partial blindness!

I am definitely in favor of taking out the dogpiling. It’s so painful to sit through, and I feel like it would be for any character whether they “deserve” it or not. It’s just not enjoyable to watch. I also like the idea of the Blitzø and Fizzarolli relationship getting a better rewrite where both characters are able to receive comfort and closure. I think it would take a full season at least to address how this rift happened and to come to a somewhat satisfying conclusion. I like the possibility of exploring Fizzarolli seeing Blitzø’s behavior in a new light — potentially Fizz realizing how Buckzo manipulated both him and his son, and how Blitzø and Barbie endured an insane level of abuse by the man while Fizz had no idea.

With M&M, I really love the idea of Blitzø’s stalking being more of him just wanting to be close to them in a familial way. It’s very sweet, although I’m also not averse to the idea of Moxxie/Millie/Blitzo (I in fact preferred that idea in S1 😄).

NOW LOONA

Your rework of her character makes me cry 😭 in a good way! But ahhh, she’s more than tolerable the way you write her. I actually feel so much sympathy for this poor pup, and understand her lashing out (but not in an intentionally malicious way that includes physical violence, at least not without recompense or consequence). And you show respect for her as a character, rather than as furry bait — which I agree is what Loona is in the show proper 😒

I don’t think I have anything to add because her rewrite is perfect (and I do adore the idea with your OC so much 🥰).