#and she’ll wake up happy and safe

[cozybhours]

I saw in a documentary that there’s debate on if cats can feel love for their owners or if they just come to trust them

But I feel her love every time she chooses to sleep splayed out on my chest, as a creature so many times her size

When I have to bathe her and see the way she accepts it when I sing to her because she knows I’m trying to make a miserable task more bearable

When she plops down to be the little spoon for only a few minutes when I’m settled into bed and it gets me away from doom scrolling

When she has me hold her for at least 5 minutes every time I get home from leaving the apartment for more than a couple hours

When she stretches her neck a little bit more so my nails can scratch just the right spot

When she headbutts me and purrs loud enough to wake me up because she knows I’ll feed her if she does

What is love if not to be vulnerable and to know you are safe and deeply cared for?

[vampcubus]

𝐊𝐍𝐘 𝐂𝐔𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐂𝐒

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 : kyojuro rengoku, tengen uzui & wives, poly obamitsu, tanjiro kamado, inosuke hashibira, zenitsu agatsuma.

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : sfw, gn!reader, big spoon coded reader cus i said so, wholesome fluff, cuddling n snuggling, polyamory (tengen & obamitsu's parts), kamaboko trio aged up as per usual.

𝐊𝐘𝐎𝐉𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐎𝐊𝐔

— A teddy bear in the shape of a man and enthusiastic to be used as one! As a Hashira, Kyojuro is often kept away for days and weeks at a time, so he makes the most of every moment you spend together.

— Kyojuro's not happy unless he's got his arms full of his favorite person, so you can expect him to seek you out the moment he arrives home.

— If you’re a civilian and he finds you in the kitchen, he’ll drape himself over you from behind, nuzzling his face into your neck and lavishing it with smiling kisses, rugged hands settling on your hips.

— Kyojuro wants to be cuddled to sleep and truly can’t bear to be parted from you, no matter how swelteringly hot it gets in the summer months. And if he has obligations, he tries to wake up a little early so he can have a few minutes of cuddle time with you before he’s whisked away. You don’t even have to be awake for it, he just wants to hold you for a little while <3

— He started out as a big spoon but converted into a little spoon when he discovered what it felt like to be properly held. He’s no more content than he is when he’s got his back pressed to your chest and you’ve curled yourself around his broad frame. 

— He likes it best when you rub his belly when his eyes are too big for his stomach, always easing a bit of the discomfort <3

— Kyojuro is comfy to lay on, with two perfect pillows for you to rest your head on (his pecs <3). His muscles are quite soft when relaxed, and the way his heart stutters when your cheek rests on it is so cute.

— Kyojuro feels safe in your presence so he’s very prone to falling asleep on your shoulder or with his head in your lap. With his workload and inconsistent sleep schedule, he’s often a cuddle session away from nodding off. Particularly so when you start playing with his flaxen hair, it’s like his off-switch 🤭

— He’s a bit of an oversized lapdog and’ll climb into your lap every chance he gets. As far as he’s concerned, that’s his seat. It looks funny to outsiders if he’s bigger than you, but he hardly cares, all too eager to get all comfy in your lap and tell you about his day.

𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐍 𝐔𝐙𝐔𝐈 & 𝐖𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐒

— Big, tough man too cool to cuddle? No sir. Tengen is a touchy lover and raises a brow when you try to sit anywhere other than his lap, like why aren't you in your assigned seat? 🤨

— Pulls you flush against his side every chance he gets, wrapping a heavy arm around your shoulders. You often get a companion wet kiss to the cheek to boot just to see you scrunch your face up and wipe his spit off your cheek >:(

— His wives are just like him– Suma especially who practically hangs off of you with those big doe eyes, clinging onto your arm during outings as a group. Between Tengen and Suma, your hands will never be lonely and you'll certainly never be cold. Those two are space heaters and can't keep their hands off their partners to save their lives.

— Makio is easily flustered by affection but ultimately craves it, even if getting her to admit it is like pulling teeth. A hopeless romantic at heart <3 She’s a big spoon and overheats easily, so she prefers to linger on the edges of the cuddle piles. She’ll smack your thigh if you move around too much with an annoyed grumble. She can be such a meanie sometimes 😔

— Hinatsuru doesn’t mind holding or being held, she just wants to be close to you. Though generally more soft-spoken than Makio, Tengen, and Suma, her affectionate touch translates her love for her partners so clearly. Often rubs soothing circles over your back, rests a comforting hand on your arm, and pets your hair while you cuddle.

— Tengen likes to talk when you cuddle, prattling on about his or your day while rubbing your side or back mindlessly. Most times, he talks you to sleep or vice versa, considering what a busy guy he is before retirement. Sometimes you’ll get caught up in deep conversations about your past lives, silly theories, or ping-pong flirtatious banter until you can barely keep your eyes open.

— Tengen likes it most when you and the wives crawl right on top of him, all to eager to be living furniture for his beautiful spouses while you all gossip and giggle to each other.

𝐎𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐈 𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 & 𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐈 𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐑𝐎𝐉𝐈

— Dare I say the clingiest partners ever?

— Obanai hesitates where as Mitsuri openly throws herself into your arms at every opportunity. Just be patient and take things slow and he'll follow Mitsuri's example. It’s a subtle shift, maybe he leans his head on your shoulder to test the waters, unable to meet your eyes. He melts if you wrap an arm around his shoulders and rub his arm, eyelids drooping as he relaxes further against you.

— Mitsuri is a cuddle bug in every sense of the word, like a tiny, purring kitty rubbing its body against your legs when you come near. You swear she chirps like one too, especially when her affections are met with a head pat or tender kiss.

— Obanai won’t say it, but he likes it when he’s in the middle, tucked safely between his two favorite people. The three of you spend many long hours this way, just relaxing in each other's embrace before your obligations call you away from the cuddle puddle– with no shortage of complaints from your lovers (Obanai’s longing wistful look as you go is just as painful as Mitsuri’s whines)

— Their clinginess only worsens as your relationship progresses, I’m afraid 💀 Obanai has a death grip comparable to a boa constrictor, especially when he’s in a deep sleep.

— I have a vivid image in my mind of Mitsuri having to use her insane strength to pry his arms off of you and scooch herself in your place so you can pee in the middle of the night, barely able to stifle her giggles. (Obanai is very much this meme)

𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐑𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐎

— Touch starved but doesn’t know it, and is also unintentionally touchy. Until he isn’t. Until his touches seem all too intentional, never without meaning.

— Cuddling with you is one of his favorite activities and he’ll even schedule official cuddle time if you let him, so you never go without the comfort of one another’s arms for long. He’ll even decline plans if it’s the wrong time of day…

“Sorry, I’d love to, but it’s almost four and I always cuddle with my partner around that time.”

— And no it’s not negotiable. What if he was late, or missed it and hurt your feelings? No no, he’s far too considerate for that.

— Besides, he misses cuddle time the most when he’s out in the field, miles away from your warm embrace. You can tell he’s missing you in the letters he sends home, commenting about how it “ sure is cold out here,” though the longer he goes without the less subtle he is, rephrasing how he misses you in every paragraph. Can you really blame him? He truly adores you so it’s hard to be away from you :((

— Prefers to be the little spoon but ultimately will be happy no matter how you’re cuddling. (I expand on little spoon Tanjiro in this post <3)

𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐀

— Instinctually touchy and yet so unused to cuddling. Inosuke doesn’t know much about positive affectionate touch so he tends to squirm out of hugs and gets a little anxious when you hold him still too long, much like a dog would. He asks you what you’re doing, voice a little softer than normal, cheeks a little pink beneath his mask.

“Cuddling you?” you reply, equally confused by his reaction as he is to your affection.  “Well stop it. It feels weird,” he huffs, and you comply, albeit a bit disheartened. You can’t help but be curious about his rejection, so you push past the sudden awkwardness of the moment to inquire about it. “Feels weird how?” “I don’t know! It just does!” he snaps defensively, a little frustrated, an emotion you can’t help but mirror. But then you relax, reminding yourself to be understanding. It must show on your face though, because he follows you around until he’s sure you aren’t mad at him. Your understanding nature is something he’s still getting used to as well.

— Take it slow with him if you can help it, form positive associations with touch, and then try again another time and he’ll be more receptive <3 REALLY receptive after a while, like before you know it you’ve got a stage 10 clinger on your hands 😭 

— Especially if you start sleeping together, cus he likes to cover you with his whole body as his way of protecting you while you’re in a vulnerable state.

— However, he will get bitchy if he catches you taking naps without him there to cuddle up to you. Like just say you don’t love him 😔 You’ll wonder why he’s giving you dirty looks and the cold shoulder all day, yeah it’s cus you didn’t immediately come find him to nap. Traitor.

— He associates cuddling with sleep so he’s prone to nodding off, and if you guide his head to rest on your chest and massage his scalp? He’s dead to the world, snoring and everything.

𝐙𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐒𝐔 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐀

— You cannot pry this man off of you and I mean it. He was clinging to you before you were even an item, often to your leg, your kimono, your hand, wherever he can reach. If you reciprocate once, he’ll keep coming back for more of it. So touch starved it’s pitiable, and he’s smart enough to know that looking pathetic earns him sympathy.

— That said, he’s taken aback if you initiate cuddling, almost unable to fathom being desired. It’s only then that he gets a little shy, chuckling nervously as you take him into your arms. Doesn’t know what to do with himself.

— Zenitsu isn’t picky about how you cuddle, just that you’re touching in every way possible. Tangles his legs with yours, wriggles as close as humanly possible, and holds your clothing in an iron grip.

— Oftentimes he looks so blissed out when he’s wrapped up in your embrace, eyes half-lidded or drooping with sudden sleepiness. You’re just so comfortable, and comforting, and beautiful and aaaa before he knows it he’s muttering all these things to you.

You awaken slowly to a considerable weight on your chest, squinting with your eyes closed you feel around blindly and find the familiar shape of your husband sprawled out on top of you. You sigh, recognizing his snores and a smile tugs at your lips despite it being tough to breathe. Your palm rests on his back, bunching in the thick fabric of his hoari. Your eyes finally crack open, the morning light illuminating your fully-dressed partner. Must’ve been a long night, you mused to yourself, able to picture a half-asleep Zenitsu stumbling into bed so clearly in your mind. Though even his unconscious alter-ego tended to seek you out. You turn, shifting Zenitsu onto his side. He stirs, but only slightly, immediately tucking his head under your chin with a grunt. “Don’t go,” he murmurs in his sleep, most likely to a dream version of you and a fondness warms your chest. “Stay.”

[sarahowritesostucky]

Happy Little Family

📖"Taking Back What's His"

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6170

Tags: dark!Bucky, mafia/mob au, dubcon/noncon, a/b/o, threats and coercion, rape, forced pregnancy, forced domestic "bliss", yandere, kid fic

Summary: You thought you'd left behind the man who turned out to be more dangerous than you'd ever imagined. But one day he walks back into your life and reminds you that, come hell or high water, you're all going to be one happy. little. family.

This chapter: You try one last, desperate ploy to escape, but it doesn't exactly work out. And James hasn't come alone. The next time you wake up, you're a long way from home.

Nickname Dictionary: vorishka = "little thief" mamochka = "mommy/little mother" kotenok= "kitty/kitten" omegya = (made up) Russian spelling of omega omegechka = (made up) "little omega" krasotka = "Pretty(n.)/pretty one" pchelka = "little bee"

2. Taking Back What's His

(Wait! I haven't read part 1 yet!)

He says something to you, after. Words that might as well be in his native Russian, for how well you take them in. But they're soft, and reassuring—he’s pleased. His body weight moves off the bed.

When you finally open your eyes and blink up at the ceiling, it’s the softest baby pink all around the edges, like smoke curling into your vision. It’s nice, peaceful. Feels good-all-over in that way that painkillers do. You haven’t experienced it since the last time you had sex with an alpha.

Which James unfortunately seems to have figured out was with him, almost two years ago. 

“Oh, kotenok, You haven’t been fucking anybody.” 

You’re still in the afterglow, mind muzzy, all of your previous panic and fear blunted near to the point of erasure with how nice it feels to float, when you hear James’ pleased chuckle from where he’s getting dressed. He comes back and leans over you. “Hey Sweetheart. Feeling good?” 

You frown at him, though it takes a concerted effort to make any expression of displeasure. You want him to know you aren’t happy, that this state he’s fucked you into isn’t real. You want to slap that smug fucking look right off his face. All you manage to come up with is a pouty little “no" that makes James laugh.

“Come here.” He fixes your dress, then helps you up off the bed. He seems to be checking to make sure you’re steady on your feet before he lets you stand on your own. “You good?”

“M’fine.” He knows you too well, knows how intense it can be for you, how strongly you react to him. You avoid his knowing gaze. You’re not completely useless like this. You can still remember everything that’s going on, can still remember June. “Please,” you say again, trying to change the tone of your voice. “Let me give her to Hilde.”

James rolls his eyes. “Right, right. Your friend across the street.”

“Please James?” You look up at him, pink edges all around his face, so pretty. Goddamn him. “She’ll be safe there.”

Again, something passes through his eyes too quickly for you to identify. It might be annoyance. He sighs, and the look, whatever it was, is gone. “Sure thing, Doll. Babies need a lot of stuff. You might as well pack up what she needs.”

You nod tearfully, going to your closet to grab a bag. He follows close behind, sending a clear message that he’s not planning on letting you out of his sights while you do this. James isn’t stupid, you’ll give him that.

In the nursery, June is happy to see you and wants you to pick her up. You talk to her in a sweet, placating voice as you go around the room grabbing different things that she’ll need and stuffing them in the bag. At this point you know to be grateful for the haze. Even as it tapers off, it’s blunting the sorrow that you know would otherwise have you sobbing and your voice clogging with tears. This way at least, you’re able to keep June thinking everything is alright. This way she isn’t scared. 

It’s when you’re crouched beside the changing table, stuffing diapers into the bag with James behind you that you get the idea: Downstairs: the kitchen: in the drawer. Your gun.

You stop moving long enough that James notices. “What’re you doing? Come on.”

You stand back up. Yes. You have to do it. This is the only chance you have at getting out of this and not losing June. You lick your lips nervously before turning back around to face him. “I … have to get her bottles and stuff from downstairs,” you say, hoping that the lingering post-coital haze is enough to keep your true intentions off your face. Your eyes flick up to James, who’s squinting at your tits.

“Bottle?” He starts to smirk, and you glare at him.

“Yes. Asshole. I won’t exactly be around to feed her, now will I?” 

His face softens at that and he gives you an apologetic look. “Right. Well go on, then.” 

You move for the hallway, realize he’s not following you, and turn back in confusion. He’s beside the crib, holding his hand out for June to touch. Your heart leaps from your spot in the doorway. “What are you doing?”

He arches an eyebrow. “I’m waiting right here until you come back upstairs,” he says, his message clear. 

Your pulse picks up, but you force yourself to nod. You’re useless without that gun. You have to get to it. He narrows his eyes at you while June giggles and reaches for his wiggling fingers. “No games.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, and turn and head for the stairs. 

It’s pure torture to move at a casual speed, especially as your mind is clearing and the fearful emotions returning. In the downstairs hallway, you check once over your shoulder that James hasn’t followed you, then pick up your pace, hurrying into the kitchen and heading straight for the drawer where you keep the gun.

Your eyes tear up as you maneuver past the digital lock that you installed for nothing. June’s still crawling. She never even got old enough to toddle over here. You press the code into the keypad, cringing when it does its quiet little two-tone ‘beep’ at being unlocked. You wait, heart in your throat until you hear the mechanism moving, then rip open the drawer. 

Your heart stops and your brain freezes and all you can think is: No. No, no no— 

“Looking for this?” 

You whirl around, and there he is: standing on the other side of the kitchen, leaning against the sink as he holds your only weapon in his hands.

His face is relaxed, Goddamn him, as he pretends to ignore your horror and instead holds the gun up to flippantly inspect it. “I have to say, Doll, I’m impressed. I would’ve expected some puny girl gun. Ruger, Derringer. But this?” He turns the Skorpion in his hands, and chuckles softly when he sees the cartridge. “Jesus. You really wanted to blow a hole in somebody, didn’t you?” His eyes finally drag up to you, the hand he’s holding the gun with dropping down by his side as he starts walking over, slowly, step by step, eyes boring into you with a growing anger.

Oh shit. Dread curls in your gut but you’re frozen. Bolting now wouldn’t even get you to the staircase. He presses in close, pinning you against the countertop. He brings the gun up and nudges your jaw with it, leaning in and breathing in your face, “Did you really think I wouldn’t find it, vorishka?”[little thief]

He’s taunting you with your own failure, and you can’t stop the whimper that breaks from your throat at having your one and only plan foiled so pathetically easily. “James,” you plead, “I didn’t—”

“Shh sh sh. None of that, now.”  He’s speaking softly, sweetly, but he’s furious. He drags his lips over your cheek and the barrel of the gun you stole from him over the other. “So what was the plan? How were you going to kill me with my own gun? Pop upstairs and shoot up the nursery?”

“N-no.”

“Ah. Right. You’re smarter than that. You would’ve waited for me to come down and see what the fuck was taking you so long, or put it in the duffle and waited until we dropped the whelp off at the neighbors. Is that it?"

You sniffle and nod, angry at him for being such an all-knowing asshole. “You can’t hold that against me,” you say, trying to defend yourself.

He nods thoughtfully. “Hmm. Yes, I suppose you’re right. I can’t blame you for that.” Your shoulders start to relax, that is until he pulls back to glare at you and holds the gun to you again, this time pointing it right underneath your chin. He looks angrier than you’ve ever seen him. “But do you know what I can hold against you, Little thief?” Your face pinches in fear, sure that you’re about to be shot, and he digs the muzzle cruelly into your skin, forcing you to look at him. “The fact that that pup up there is ten months old, and I’ve never even fucking seen her.” 

Your eyes widen as you realize: he knows. You open your mouth to say something, anything, but he beats you to it.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t be able to tell she’s mine?” 

“James,”

“All this time!” he hisses, hurt lancing through his features. “You kept her from me! What gives you the right?” 

“I—I didn’t—”

He growls and pushes away from you, several steps back, glaring. “Nothing, is the answer you’re looking for. You had no right to do that.” 

You try to edge to the side, but freeze when he straightens his arm and points the gun right at you. “James, wait …”

He aims it at your face, but then lowers it for a center mass shot, which is what really convinces you you’re about to die. “Say goodbye, mamochka,” he says, with steely eyes and his finger curling over the trigger. 

It’s a submachine gun that fires in three shot bursts, or fully automatic. Either way, you know you’re about to be riddled with bullets, so you start to hyperventilate. It’s an embarrassing reaction, but at least you have the dignity of knowing what your last words on this earth would’ve been. “Don’t hurt her,” you gasp.

His eyes fill with rage and he pulls the trigger. 

… Nothing happens, but you’re bracing so hard that it takes you a full two or three seconds to realize it. Then, when you do realize it, and you see James standing there looking grim but completely unsurprised that you haven’t been shot, all of the breath rushes out of your lungs. You feel like you’re about to faint, which is apparently what he’s waiting for. 

He ejects the empty magazine, shaking his head in disbelief. “You really thought I’d do it, didn’t you?” He takes a step forward, but pauses when you flinch back. “What the hell have you convinced yourself that I am?” 

You step back again when he moves. “Don’t,” you whisper. “Don’t.”

“Don’t, don’t,” he whispers, mocking you. “Don’t what? Don’t take back what’s mine? The mother of my pup? A pup I didn’t get to see grow or come into this world?” Your breath hitches with emotion and he doesn’t miss it, the bastard. “Yeah,” he says darkly. “You robbed me of that. But I’ll get over it, don’t worry.”  He leers up and down your body in its flimsy sundress. “I’ll be putting another one in you real soon.”

You see red. Fury sweeps through you and stings your eyes, roars in your ears. You grab the nearest thing to you, which is the edge of the utensils crock on the counter. It spills over and your hand closes around the handle of the meat mallet. You cry out and swing at him, wanting to smash his smug fucking face to smithereens. 

“Woah-ho, easy there.” He laughs and takes a surprised step back, as though you’re nothing but a tantruming child. “Stop being so dramatic.”

You growl and lunge for him again, but cut off in a shriek as someone suddenly grabs you from behind. The meat mallet clatters to the floor as you’re hauled back against the hard body of another man. One big arm wraps around your middle, and the other holds a cloth up at your face, pressing it over your mouth. “Mmph!” you yell out, muffled, and get a huge inhale of chlorine-like smell into your lungs for your trouble. You hold your breath and thrash, but it’s less than useless. The person holding you is large and strong. When you try to headbutt him, it doesn't even clip his chin. You bring your hands up to try and claw at the hand holding the cloth over your mouth, but your nails meet metal instead of skin, and you gasp in another inhale of chemicals as you realize who it is. “Mmph!”  

James steps up close, smirking fondly as he watches you fighting the urge to inhale. Eventually he tuts and reaches up to cup your cheek. “Shhh, omegechka. Stop. Stop fighting now. It’s all over.” 

“Nngh!”

“Just take a deep breath and go to sleep. Everything’ll be alright, I promise. Just relax.” You whimper as you feel yourself running out of air, knowing that your body’s going to force you to draw breath in a second. James leans in and kisses your forehead tenderly. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispers, just as your vision starts to fade out, “or our daughter.”

The smell of professionally scented, circulating air hits you first, and then the taste of old pennies in your mouth. Then, a gradually increasing sense of awareness of your body in space and time. At first you think you're somewhere very bright, as colors and rainbows dance through your lashes, but the more you blink your eyes open, the more the brightness fades and your vision comes into focus.

And there he is: holding a crystal tumbler and looking like he's been waiting for you to come round. "Well hello there, Sleepyhead,” he says. “Welcome back." He takes a sip of whatever it is he’s drinking, the ice cubes clinking softly against the sides of the glass. He looks totally relaxed.

You sit up straighter in the seat where you’d been slumped, moving your tongue around inside of your dry mouth and trying to remember what happened. And then reality hits you in waves, each one more devastating than the last:

James—He found you. 

June—She's not there.

"How're you feeling? Thirsty?"

You blink, dazed, a few lingering specks still floating at the edges of your vision. You look around the room you’re in, clocking your surroundings. Windows, cabin—Shit. You're already on a plane. Pressure builds rapidly at the backs of your eyes as you fight not to cry, thinking of your baby girl left behind, never getting to see her again.

You didn’t even get to say goodbye. 

Bucky’s eyes sharpen on you when your stifled sob breaks out and you throw a hand over your mouth. "Steve,” he says, still watching you in concern. “Get her a bottle of water."

“Sure thing, boss.”

And then the worst realization of all: You look over and see the winter fucking soldier walking down the aisle, holding your baby.

They've got June.

Your eyes widen and you make a distressed little ‘meep’ of a sound. “Steve!” you blurt, and he turns to face you. He looks surprised that you’ve spoken directly to him. He’s not wearing his usual black mask, but he still looks huge and intimidating, and it’s like seeing a wild animal right next to your baby—dangerous, wrong. Your mouth works uselessly as you stare at his hands on June’s body: one supporting her head, and the metal one scooped under her butt. You see her back rise and fall steadily through her bumblebee onesie and you realize that she’s asleep. “I-is she okay?” you ask, heart in your throat. 

Steve’s eyes narrow at you, but he nods curtly. “She’s fine.” 

Across from you, James scoffs, drawing your attention back to him. “He’s going to put her down. There’s a crib in the back. She’ll be fine,” he says, when he sees you stiffen in protest. “You and I have some catching up to do, vorishka.”

“I thought we did that back in my bedroom,” you snap.

“You still want the water?” Steve asks.

“That’s okay.” Bucky keeps his eyes on you. “I’ll take care of her. You just stay back there with pchelka while she sleeps.” 

Steve nods, and you can’t help yourself. “Wait! Please. Please give her to me. Steve?” You sit forward with your arms outstretched, but can only watch helplessly as the other man obeys Bucky and ignores you, disappearing back into the next section of the plane. Bastard never did like you. 

“She’ll be fine,” Bucky assures you. “Just sit back and relax. We won’t be in the air for too long.”

You hate it, but you do sit back in the chair. James won’t hurt her. You know that. Especially now that you know he knows. You look around the cabin, taking in the wide, leather seats and gleaming wood finishes. There’s a couch, tv, a bar. A fucking electric fireplace. It's the sort of luxury you used to go starry-eyed over; incredibly rich men, fat or old or ugly, tripping all over themselves to spoil you.

… Only, James was never any of those things.

“This is your plane?” you ask, dragging your hand over the arm of your seat.

James smirks. “What? You thought I’d kidnap you and then fly commercial?” 

You purse your lips at his joke. “I guess not.” You relax back, trying to get your bearings. It is bad news that you’re already on a plane with him. You’ll be landing at his private airstrip at the Siberia compound, which gives you no middle ground to run. You bite your lip as your thoughts race and you try to think of anything you might be able to do once you get to—

“Stop it,” James says quietly, drawing your attention back to him. He’s giving you a stern look. “You barely got away before, and that was on your own. Now we’ve got our daughter. Anything you try will put her in unnecessary danger and you know that.” He shakes his head, some of that sadness from before creeping back into his eyes. “You’re not leaving me again, omegechka.”

“I’m not?” you echo, stuck in place by his stare, by the memories you share with him, and the fear you have of what he’s planning for your punishment. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m just taking back what’s mine, Sweetheart. You do realize that?” You fail to answer him and his gaze hardens just a little bit. “That’s okay. You’ll see it eventually. This isn’t a bad thing. If you had just stuck around a little longer instead of lying to me and running off, then you would’ve seen it before, and we wouldn’t have to be going through this right now.” He raises his drink to you in a little salute. “You, me, and pchelka? We’re going to be a family.”

You don’t refuse the water he gives you, or the drink that he mixes for you, after. If James wanted to keep you drugged up until reaching Siberia, he certainly could’ve done so without allowing you to wake up on the plane. You’re only conscious right now because he wants you to be. And because you know that, you don’t protest the drink he prepares for you over at the bar. To be honest, a stiff one actually sounds really good right about now.

“Thank you,” you murmur as he hands it over, still unmoored by this drastic shift in circumstances. A few hours ago you’d been safe in your cottage, then suddenly you weren’t. One minute you’re sure you’re about to get a bullet in the face from this man, and the next, he’s got you sipping thousand dollar vodka on his private jet, calmly explaining how he intends to keep you and force you into some twisted form of domestic bliss. 

“I had a whole renovation done for her,” he tells you. “Pchelka will have plenty of room to play and grow.”

You frown, hating the idea of your daughter growing up in that cold, Siberian fortress. You don’t care if he’s bought her an indoor waterslide and a herd of ponies. It’s no place for a child. “What does that mean?” you ask grumpily. “That word: chelk—? You keep using it. You can’t just rename my daughter.”

Hurt flashes in his eyes, but he wipes it away fast. “Pchelka means little bee. The outfit you put her in has bees on it.”

“Oh … Right.” You love that set. It’d been another gift at the shower, from Hilde.

“And she’s my daughter too,” James says tightly.

You gulp at the bitterness in his tone, at his eyes boring into you with reproach. It’s silly, but you do feel bad about hurting him in this one way, at least. “Her name is June,” you offer quietly.

His face draws tight with emotion that’s impossible for you to decipher. Mostly you just sense hurt coming off of him, tingeing his scent and making it into something mournful and awful. He stares at you for a long time. “You made me think you’d lost it,” he eventually whispers. “How could you do that to me?”

You shake your head. “I’m sorry.” 

“No you’re not. You’re just sorry that I found you.”

“I saw you kill people, James!” you cry. “I saw who you really are. I couldn’t stay. Not after that.”

His mouth ticks up at the corners. “Oh, Sweetheart. You’ve got no idea who I am, or what I’ve done for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

His eyes gleam and he lifts his drink, tipping back the last of it. “Do you even remember where we met?” 

You frown. “Of course.” You’d met him on a yacht, off the coast of Greece. At a party you’d been paid to attend as one of a flock of similarly hired ‘pretty girls’. Five hundred bucks just to sit around and drink cocktails for a few hours and make whoever owned the yacht look like a successful playboy. James had taken one look at you and made it his mission to charm you off of that boat with him. And you’d fallen for it, hook line and sinker. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“You don’t know as much as you think you do,” he says disdainfully. “Don’t know how lucky you really are. I saved you.”

You scoff. “You’re no different from those boat guys. You think you’re so special, God’s gift to omegas, I get it.”

“No,” he grits. “You really don’t.”

“Don’t tell me what I don’t know! I know what I saw. All over the floor of your goddamn office. I slipped in it for Christ’s sake!”

“Right, right. The men you saw me kill,” he says, referencing the scene you’d walked in on just before you’d faked your miscarriage and fled. “You were eavesdropping outside the door, weren’t you, Little thief?”

You jut your chin out. “Yes. So what?” 

“You know, I’d always assumed you heard the entire conversation. Now I realize I was wrong.” 

“What?”

He laughs under his breath—at your expense, you suspect. “Who exactly do you think they were?”

“Your business associates. The same sort of underworld, black market scum as you. Only they didn't work for you. You screwed them over and they were there to collect what you owed them, and you murdered them instead.”

James scoffs and smiles angrily, sticking his tongue into his cheek as he looks away in frustration. "Figures," he mutters.

“What?” you snap. “You’re gonna deny it?”

“I’m not denying anything. But I killed them for you.”

“Oh please. Just stop it. Stop lying! I know what you do for work.” 

Granted, you'd been a little slow on the uptake back then, too enamored and swept up in the whirlwind romance with your first Alpha that you hadn’t ever stopped to wonder where his money came from, or where it was he jetted off to “on business” every few days. It’d taken a year for you to piece it together, to see the true magnitude of the enterprise he ran, and how dark it really was.

Sitting in front of you now, he doesn’t deny it, which only bolsters your disdain for him. “I don’t want that in my life,” you hiss. “Arms dealing, drugs, smuggling, mercenaries. And apparently human trafficking as well.”

His eyes flash. “They don’t call it that, you know. It’s called the ‘skin trade’.”

“I don’t care.”

He gets up to go pour himself another drink at the bar. “Right,” he snaps, like you’re an idiot. “You’re so fucking naïve, krasotka [pretty (n.)]. So convinced that I’m the devil. But you have no idea how much worse it could’ve been for you.”

“You threatened to sell your own daughter before you figured out she was yours!”

Refusing to be provoked, he returns to stand right in front of you, forcing you to look up at him towering over you. “I knew she was mine from the second I walked in that house,” he says, making your breath catch. 

“How?”

He smiles nastily and takes a sip from his drink, then sets it aside. He leans over you with his hands on the back of your seat, caging you in. You can smell the expensive alcohol on his breath as he gets in your face and tells you, “I put that baby in you, moya omegya. She’s a part of me. You think I wouldn’t be able to figure that out? Think an Alpha doesn’t know the scent of his own flesh and blood?”

You tense, fighting not to shrink away. “You’re making that up.”

He chuckles lowly and puts his face right next to yours, cheek to cheek, savoring your reaction. “Sweetheart,” he purrs, “I may not have forced a mating bite on you back then like I should have, but there are other ways to leave your mark on someone.” He dips in to kiss your neck, right over your unbitten glands. “I found you by your scent,” he whispers. “Sniffed you out.”

You shiver at his hot breath on your skin and the deadly soft tone of his voice. The way your body responds to him isn’t anything you can control, and he knows that, but it still makes you flush with embarrassment when he takes a deep inhale in the bend of your neck and hums with satisfaction when he smells the effect he’s had on you. “I wouldn’t have sold her anyway,” he tells you, pulling back and picking up his drink. “I want you to know that. I don’t participate in the skin trade.”

You swallow thickly, watching him watch you as he waits for you to react to him in some way. You don’t know why you believe him about this one thing, but you do. “But you’re aware of it,” you say. “You know it happens, and you don’t do anything to stop it.”

His jaw works in frustration. “I’ve interfered a time or two, when I could get away with it.”

“Well, aren't you a hero.”

“I didn’t say that,” he snaps. “I said I’ve done what little I could. These men make a lot of money dealing in omegas, and they don’t take kindly to being stolen from.”

“I can imagine.”

“No,” he mutters into his drink. “You really can’t.”

There’s something oddly bitter in his tone, like he's working hard not to tell you something. You bite your lip and watch him for a minute. “... How much?” you ask.

“What?” His eyes darken when he figures out what you’re asking. “No.”

“Tell me.”

“It depends,” he grits, glaring at you. "Now cut it out."

Sober, you might have; but half a vodka spritzer after nineteen months of no alcohol has you bolder than you usually would be. You look down at yourself, feigning flippancy. “Well what about me? How much would I go for?”

“Kotenok,” he warns lowly, growling when you continue to press him with a snotty little, 

“Come on, I thought you were such a dangerous criminal? You can’t even discuss a little human trafficking with the weak omega you just trafficked?” 

He probably knows you’re trying to antagonize him, but he still rises to the bait. He sits back and lets his eyes drag over your body in a way that makes your pulse pick up. “Well,” he drawls, “you just had a baby. So that’s less right there.” Your nostrils flare angrily and he gives you a look. “You’re the one who asked,” he reminds, waiting until you give him a nod to continue. He gives you another onceover, this time lingering in certain places longer, a softer look in his eyes for the softer parts of your body. He almost seems to get distracted. He catches himself overindulging and looks away, like it’s hurting him to consider you this way. “Most people want their omegas untouched,” he says quietly. “Especially if the buyer's alpha, which they usually are. It’s an instinctual thing for us. We’re very driven to possess. We don’t like to share.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” you mutter.

His gaze snaps back to you, a painful amount of familiarity in his eyes. “You’dve been a couple million, back when we first met.”

Your eyes widen. You weren't expecting that. “But … I wasn’t even a virgin.”

He arches an eyebrow. “I said untouched, not virginal. Not in that way. Alpha buyers want unbonded and never bred, first and foremost.” He leers at you. “Not that there aren’t some who’ll pay a little extra to pop a girl’s cherry. But that’s not the main thing they’re looking for, when they buy.” 

You scowl. “Right. So I guess I’m damaged goods now."

“Oh no, mamochka,” he says seriously. “You’ve only gone up in value in my eyes. Though believe me when I say I’m more than happy to contribute to the depletion of your market value." He raises his glass to his lips, looking darkly pleased. “You’re not for sale, and you never will be. You’re mine.”

You're embarrassed to be the one to break eye contact first, but you can’t keep listening to him talk about how much he likes you and watching him look at you like you’re his most prized possession. With any other man you’d just be disgusted, but James has always had a knack for getting you flustered, and he knows it. There’s always been an inexplicable pull between the two of you, and he knows that, too. It’s the main reason why you've always refused his attempts to bond you. You're terrified of what it’ll be like after, since you already know how pathetically helpless you are around him without a bond.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” you mumble quietly. “Where is it?” 

“Just down there.” He nods in the direction behind you, opposite from where Steve had gone with June.

You press your lips together and get up without looking at him, but you can feel his eyes on you the entire time you’re walking away.

“Don’t take too long in there, kotenok,” he purrs from back in his seat. “Or I’ll have to come in after you.”

In the bathroom, you splash water on your face and lean against the sink, looking at the girl staring back at you in the mirror. You blink, and she blinks, but it feels like you’re looking at another person, someone you don’t know. She looks fragile. Tired, and dazed. June’s been sleeping through the night for months, but it’s been a hell of a day.

You scrutinize your reflection, smoothing your dress and tucking your hair behind your ears, thinking about how you have zero makeup on. Then you scoff at yourself for caring what you look like in front of him. You think about how much you’ve changed in the seventeen months since you ran away. Not just physically, but mentally. You’ve had to be so strong. For June, for yourself. It’s been awful, and lonely, and you’ve hated yourself for not being able to stop missing him. 

You sniffle and splash more water on your face, grumpily thinking that postpartum hormones are so much worse than the pregnancy ones. You grab the towel off the wall, but freeze when you bring it up to pat your face dry and get a smell of it.

Oh.

You whimper, unable to keep from pressing it harder to your mouth and nose and inhaling deeply. It’s James’ scent, and it smells so good. It smells like Safety and Love and Alpha. You hear the sound of your own, needy mewl and you gasp, yanking the towel away from your face and tossing it into the sink, trying to keep your shit together. You brace your hands on the counter and glare at your reflection to tell her to stop it, stop it, stop it, but all it takes is seeing your lower lip quiver, and soon your entire face is collapsing in long-repressed sadness. You turn away from the mirror with a pathetic noise, throat aching from the urge to keen. 

Why does this have to be happening?! You’ve tried so hard, for so long. To be strong for June, to get over him, to move on! You bury your face in your hands and choke on a wrenching sob. You know you have to be quiet, have to stop, have to pull yourself together before he—

A soft knock comes from outside the bathroom. “Doll?”

You whine and hastily search for a lock on the door, but there is none, and James hears your crying and pulls the door open. “Honey,” he mourns when he sees you. “What’s wrong?” 

You push past him, hurrying in the direction he isn’t blocking. “Leave me alone!” you cry, hating the blubbering in your voice that makes you sound just as weak as James thinks you are. You arrive in a perfectly made up bedroom with no point of egress other than the one you arrived through. You whine in distress, circle around helplessly, and then throw yourself onto the bed when he arrives at the doorway looking worried. “Leave me alone!” you cry, curling onto your side and pulling one of the pillows down to bury your face in. At least it isn’t suffused with James’ scent. You still cry though, unable to keep it in anymore now that you’ve started.

He tuts sadly from the doorway and comes into the room slowly. He stands there for a long minute, silent, before he sighs and his weight comes onto the bed. “Sweetheart,” he says.

“Just leave me alone,” you whine miserably. “Go away!”

“Shh sh sh.” He curls up behind you, arms around your waist and legs pushing in behind yours. He kisses your shoulder and hugs you, but it only makes you cry harder at how achingly familiar it is. “It’s okay,” he murmurs between kisses. He doesn’t try to get you to stop crying, or ask you what’s wrong. He seems to know exactly why you’re breaking down, and he simply devotes all his efforts to helping you calm down in your own time. “S’okay, s’okay. Everything’s gonna be okay,” he keeps saying, soothing you with a deep rumble in his chest. “I’ve got you, Sweetheart. I’ve got you now. It’s all gonna be okay. Shhh.”

At first, his placating makes you angry, but not enough to stop your crying, and once that tapers off from sobs to quiet, sniffling tears, you can’t seem to dredge up the anger anymore. It isn’t there. 

“You feeling a little better?” he asks kindly, gently tucking your hair behind your ear and then hugging you again.

You whine when you feel his lips against your neck. “I’m fine,” you rasp, voice coming out scratchy from all of the crying. You cringe and scrub your face into the pillow in embarrassment. “Just got a little sad.”

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly, giving you a supportive squeeze. “That’s okay.”

You hate how he says it, because it’s obvious that he knows why you were crying: Poor, sad little omega, bawling her eyes out over how much she’s missed her Alpha. He nuzzles into your neck, telling you it’s okay and that you’re allowed to cry. As much as you hate him being able to see into you so easily, you’re just grateful that he isn’t rubbing your face in it right now. The way he's holding you and comforting you feels good. You don’t fight to get away from him.

The two of you lie there together for what feels like a long time. Once you’ve stopped crying and are only giving the occasional sniffle for your runny nose, he goes back to running his hand over your side. It’s a gesture of comfort. He’s not groping you, but even still, you blush at the vulnerability of it. You find yourself glad that you’re facing away from him. 

The plane shifts noticeably, and James’ hand pauses on your hip. “Pilot said we’re landing soon,” he murmurs. “Should probably go and get pchelka up.”

You sniffle and fight off the urge of resurfacing tears at hearing him reference June. One day of knowing his daughter and already he’s got a nickname for her. You should be annoyed by that, but instead it just makes your heart squeeze with emotion. “Pchelka,” you whisper, trying out the word. 

“Yeah.” He hums happily and kisses your shoulder one last time. “Little bee. Come on. Let’s go.”

You don’t think about how it’s far too soon to have arrived at your destination, until you’re back in the main room of the cabin on the way to where Steve disappeared with June, earlier. You pause at the windows, peering out at the landscape. “This isn’t Russia,” you say, confused. The plane is definitely descending, but you’ve only been in the air for a few hours at most. “James?” you ask, as he comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. Together, you both look out at the looming mountains and turquoise waters below. “Where are we?” you breathe.

James rests his chin on your shoulder and sighs happily. “Home,” he says. “We’re home.”

A.N.: See? Much less Rapey! Plenty more mega-dub con to come though, so don't you angst-lovers worry. Thanks for reading!💖Sarah

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[mandarinmoons]

dad!spencer

DAD SPENCER SPENCER AS DAD

yknow that scene where JJ calls Will and Henry over the phone so she can read to Henry? or atleast I think she read to him it was so long ago that I watched 😭 anyway, what about that with Spencer and a toddler Bailey? he’s on a case but he still wants to make sure he’s present for his daughter even if he’s not physically there

<333

Your ears rang as Bailey’s cries echoed through the house. She had been fussy and inconsolable for days and you knew why, her dad was gone.

Spencer flew out to a case all the way in Nebraska leaving you to take care of Bailey all by yourself until he got back. You weren’t cross with him, you knew his schedule was hectic and that he tried his best to be a part of both of your lives.

For Bailey however it was a different story. The second her dad walked out the door she was upset and ran to the door to run after him. The only way she would fall asleep is by draping one of Spencer’s shirts over her, her breathing would calm down and a moment later she would be at ease.

It had been four days since Spencer left and there had only been limited text messages between you two. The case turned out to be more complicated than initially thought and it was taking up more of the team’s time.

You and Bailey were cuddling on the couch watching one of her favorite cartoons. Bailey had a crying fit and after some time she managed to calm down a bit and now here you were, caressing her back as her tear filled eyes were focused on the TV in front of her.

As you felt yourself doze off and your head leaned to the side, your phone rang which caused Bailey to get fuzzy.

“Shh there there,” you sat up and pulled Bailey into your lap as you dug your phone out of your pocket, seeing it was Spencer calling you sighed in relief and immediately put it on speaker.

“Hey Agent Daddy,” hearing your words made Spencer chuckle and Bailey’s eyes went big as she heard the laughter.

“Hey you two, how are my favorite girls doing?”

“We’re doing okay, Bailey misses you a lot.”

“She does?” Bailey immediately made grabby hands at the phone.

“C’mon, say hi to daddy.”

Bailey got the phone in her hands and chanted “daddy, daddy, daddy!” in an excited voice.

“Hi baby, do you miss me?”

“Yes.”

“Hey, daddy will be home soon, okay?”

“Okay…”

“Spence, do you think you could sing to her a bit?”

“Yes yes, daddy sing!”

Both you and Spencer laughed as Bailey grew excited over hearing her dad sing to her.

As Spencer sang along to the lullaby he recited to Bailey every night before bed, she nuzzled into your chest as her cheek was squished against you, her eyes fluttering shut as she relaxed.

You pried the phone from her hands gently and took it off from speaker mode, pressed it to your ear and quietly spoke as to not wake up your daughter.

“She’s finally asleep.”

“Has she really not slept these past few days?”

“Well only when she tires herself out from crying.”

Spencer chuckled lightly, “I feel bad now.”

“Hey it’s okay. You’ll be home soon so she’ll feel better in no time.”

“I hope so.”

Silence took over the line for a moment and you could hear Spencer trying to cover up a yawn, he was dead tired but still managed to make time to call you.

“You should go to sleep, I don’t want to keep you up for too long. You still have a lot of work to do.”

“Yeah,” Spencer yawned and rubbed his eyes as he looked at the time, 8:47 PM in the evening and yet it felt like it was 1 AM for him.

“Be safe, yeah? Think about how happy Bailey will be once you get home.”

Spencer smiled as he thought about his little girl running into his arms as soon as he walked through the front door.

“Give her a kiss from me please.”

“I will, good night.”

“Good night.”

As the call ended you looked down at Bailey and watched her sleep peacefully in your arms. Her hand was gripping your shirt and you chuckled as you remembered what you wore, the same shirt of Spencer’s that you draped on her as she slept.

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girlfriend!abby 💫

⋆✦⋆ she always buys you flowers because she thinks it’s a perfect way to show you how much she loves you!!! and she likes going to antique stores to find vases with cool patterns and buying them for you.

⋆✦⋆ every last one of her pennies will be spent on you. no matter how much you protest, she looooves to spoil you and nothing makes her happier than the look on your face when she gets you a surprise gift.

⋆✦⋆ i know i already wrote about this but she loves cuddling you before going to the gym early in the morning. sometimes she’ll get a little bit carried away and smother sleepy kisses all over your face and accidentally wake you up :((( she apologizes so many times but that’s one of your favorite ways to wake up!!!

⋆✦⋆ she likes to wear your clothes because it reminds her of you. especially if you’re a masc too, you’ll never get your clothes back, sorry!! they’re hers now.

⋆✦⋆ some of the pet names she calls you are honey, sweet girl, and babe. but she also frequently calls you dude and bro just to piss you off.

⋆✦⋆ there’s always a book on her nightstand!!! she likes to read before bed or when she wants some time away from her phone. if you ask her for book recs she could write you a whole list of the best books she’s read and an in depth rating without spoilers.

⋆✦⋆ most of the furniture in her house/apartment was built or put together by her, including the bookshelf. she could sit on the floor for hours putting together an ikea coffee table while occasionally stopping to watch whatever music video was playing on the tv.

⋆✦⋆ her gym routine is very specific!!! she has designated days for legs, arms, full body, and two rest days a week. and she makes sure she eats 3 meals a day and a snack, drinks enough water, and gets enough rest.

⋆✦⋆ taking care of herself is super important, but she also loves taking care of you. knowing that she can keep you safe and happy makes her feel so proud!!! and whenever she has a rest day, she’ll spend the whole day cuddling you, cooking for you, doing skincare together, etc. she’s such a sweet gf :((

⋆✦⋆ she loves roadtrips!!!! just driving a few hours out of town to go exploring, she’ll bring her camera and take sooo many pictures of you to get developed later. and she’ll go with you to every shop you want to and she’ll buy you anything you look at!!

⋆✦⋆ lowkey she’s kind of a clean freak. growing up with jerry she was taught how to wash her hands like real doctors do, how to thoroughly clean and disinfect a space, how organization can impact your mood, all that jazz. she gets a lot of her traits from her dad actually, it’s so adorable.

⋆✦⋆ i’m convinced she’s the type of girl to take an edible and then clean the whole house because she suddenly felt super productive. you’ll come home to her cleaning, shirtless because she got too warm, with her music playing. and then she’ll fall asleep right on top of you. <33

⋆✦⋆ taking you to meet jerry would be super fun!! he’s such a sweet guy, and the love he has for his daughter is so adorable. he’s definitely the type of dad to go through an entire photo album of baby/kid/teen abby the first time you meet him.

⋆✦⋆ once she asks you to move in (after only like 6 months of dating) she loves to decorate the space with stuff that represents the two of you. she probably has a pride flag hanging in a window, and she has a hook for her carabiner right next to the door.

⋆✦⋆ she’s super close with her friends!! she’d love to take you on a double date with the two of you, manny, and whoever he was currently seeing. and you can count on her to always show up to leah and jordan’s shitty parties, even though they always end up super boring.

⋆✦⋆ she loves lazy sunday mornings when she gets to cling onto you the whole day and never let you go. she’ll hold you in bed, in the shower, on the couch, in the kitchen, on the porch, in the middle of the grocery store, anywhere!!! she just can’t get enough of you!! ;)

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

The Danger Zone (Part 18) - Hangman

Pairing: Hangman / Fem!Bradshaw!Reader | OC

Word Count: 3.9k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ ONLY.

Warnings: Unplanned Pregnancy; Military Inaccuracies; Medical Inaccuracies; Crying; Angst; Family Drama; Deployments; Use of "You," No Use of Y/N, No Set Physical Description

Summary: You try to adapt to life without Jake beside you anymore.

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Dear Jake,

You probably haven’t even reached the aircraft carrier yet. You might even still be on the ground in Miramar. But I couldn’t wait. I miss you. You’ve been gone for less than five hours, and I already miss you so much. I'm not saying that to try and make you feel bad, but because it's the only thing on my mind now.

Everyone offered to take me out today to try and distract me, but I declined. I think that I just want some time to myself. I honestly don't even want to get out of bed. Maybe I’ll do some cleaning. Or who knows? Maybe I’m an accomplished knitter who hasn’t discovered her talent yet. Or maybe I’ll bake again. I don’t know. 

Also, all of the tee shirts you left behind are now mine. Sorry, it’s just wife rules. You shouldn’t have married me and knocked me up if you didn’t want me to steal your stuff. 

I miss you. I love you. And so does our little girl. Come home safe, Lieutenant Commander. That’s an order. 

Love,

Your Wife

~~~~~

Dear Jake,

I went back to work today. Everyone tried to talk to me about you and the wedding and everything, but I just wanted to be left alone. Also, my cravings are all over the place now. And half of the stuff seems to make me throw up these days. Luckily, I still have the gum and toothbrush in my desk. 

How’s everything? I assumed that you made it to the carrier by now. Or maybe you’re somewhere else entirely.

You know all of those spy movies over romanticize how sexy it is to be waiting at home for your husband to return home from some top secret mission.

It’s not sexy. It’s just annoying. 

Here’s a photo of me and my bump. Don’t mind the mess in the background, I’m rearranging the whole apartment. Call it nervous organizing. It'll be cleaned up. Eventually.

She’s been a shy ever since you left. I can still feel her moving around, but even she seems to have realized that you're gone. I think that she just misses you. And I can’t blame her because I miss you too. 

I love you, Jake. Come home safely.

Love,

Your Wife

~~~~~

Dear Jake, 

I got the package that you bought for me. I hope that you know that if you were here, I would have given you a rerun of that time that we went to that desert concert. The one where you wouldn't remove your hands from my waist for a second. I hope that your big promotion doesn’t change how much you enjoyed it when I tied your hands up back in your truck. 

Our daughter’s been moving around like crazy today ever since I played your voice for her. She doesn’t seem to be willing to kick yet, but we’ll get there in time. 

I let Emma take me out today. We just took a walk around her neighborhood. Baby girl finally went to bed after that. But knowing her, she’ll wake up just in time for me to go to bed. 

Here’s our photo from today. Emma took it. I can’t believe I’m going to get even bigger. You owe me a deep tissue massage on my back when you get home. And I’ll hold you to it. 

We love you and miss you, Jake. 

Love,

Your Wife

~~~~~

Dear Jake,

I couldn’t take it anymore. I moved in with Mav today. I thought I wanted to be alone, but I was wrong. Being alone with my thoughts just makes me sad and lonely and I don’t want our daughter to bake in that. She needs to inherit your smile and dimples, so I’m making a bigger effort to be happy. 

Penny took me to get my nails done today. I got a light pink for our daughter, but now everyone’s assuming that we’re having a girl. I haven’t confirmed it because we didn’t discuss it before you left but don’t be shocked when you come home to a lot of pink. 

I also started seriously researching some girl names. I never realized how many people I don’t like until I started trying to name our daughter. And you better speak up if any of the ones that I suggest are ones that have bad meanings to you.

I’m still digging through a whole bunch of lists but there’s such weird ones out there, Jake. And we cannot name our child something that would get us a look from her teachers. Or a stripper name.

I love you. Baby girl is behaving herself, but she misses you.

Love,

Your Wife

~~~~~

To My Beautiful Wife,

I finally got a chance to check my email. We’re settled on the carrier now, but we’ve been doing a lot of drills and long briefings. I'm sorry that I haven't written earlier. Know that the two of you are always on my mind.

I’m glad you got your gift. I tried to record what I could think of for our baby girl. I don’t want her to miss anything. And I don’t want her keeping you up at night. Has she kicked yet? By my count, you’re hitting seven months in a day or two.

Thanks for sending me those photos. I put up one of the two of you from that photo shoot in my plane. Really brightens up the place. But it also reminds me of what I’m missing. Sometimes I have to take it down so I can focus.

I miss you. I miss our little girl. Every day, every hour, every second. 

Try to relax. I know that everyone’s probably told you that a thousand times by now, but I don’t want you feeling stressed about me. I’m fine and I'll be home as soon as I can. Please tell me that you didn’t lift anything heavy while you were moving into Mav’s house. Or maybe it's better if you don't tell me.

And you can tell everyone about her. I don’t mind. It’s not like we could keep it a secret for much longer anyways. But make sure to mention that I was right. 

And you have to tell me the worst names that you've seen on these lists. I left a list of baby names I liked in my nightstand. I'd research them when I couldn't sleep at night.

I love you and I love our daughter. I’ll try to be home soon.

Your Husband,

Jake

~~~~~

Dear Jake,

I had my seven month appointment today. Baby girl is healthy and still measuring a little small. But her heartbeat is strong and I can tell that she’s going to be stubborn coming out. The doctor says that it’s only a matter of time before she starts kicking. 

I hope that the ocean isn’t too rough and you can see the stars. I remember when Mav and I spent a month in Hawaii when I was a teenager. We saw the most beautiful stars there. What if we picked a star name for our daughter? Not Stella, though. That was our dog's name growing up and I can't name my daughter after a dog.

I didn’t lift anything. Mav wouldn’t let me. And neither would Bradley. They’re watching me like hawks these days. And no, I didn’t mean that as a bird joke. Also, I can’t name our daughter after a bird. I’m trying to end the family streak of joke names. 

Mckeighleigh was the most ridiculous looking name I’ve seen so far. And we’re not naming our daughter Precious either. Or worse, Chastity. I don’t know how those nurses keep a straight face when they hear those names. 

And your recording telling her to go to bed has come in handy lately. Though I did warn her that we’ll be discussing the fact that she only seems to listen to you about that when she comes out. 

I love you so much Jake. You’ll be home soon, I know it. And we’ll be waiting for you when you do. 

Love,

Your Wife

~~~~~

Dear Jake,

I can't fall asleep, so I’m writing to you instead. And no, it wasn’t our baby girl who kept me up. I’ve had the worst heartburn these days. And Tums don’t do shit. They say that means that our daughter will come out with a full head of hair. I say that I'd take a bald baby in exchange for better sleep.

My baby shower is in a few days. Next weekend. Emma and Phoenix said that it was going to be relatively small, and I hope that they stick to it. I’m not really in the mood to see a lot of people anymore.

I yelled at Bradley the other day for making an omelet with three eggs because he left an egg in the carton without a 'friend' because he left an egg alone in its row since there was an odd number of eggs. Apparently, I kept crying about it for a while, but in all honesty, I don’t really remember much of that conversation. I’m pretty sure that Bradley’s keeping his distance now. You probably would have enjoyed seeing his face. 

I asked for a little box at my baby shower to put name suggestions in. I’m running out of ideas. I keep worrying that we’re going to name her something stupid. 

Baby girl is growing bigger, and I can’t believe that I’m still going to get fatter. I’m struggling to grab things off of the floor now. Maverick got me one of those grabby things that old people use. You would probably find it hilarious.

I love you. I miss you. I’ll write to you tomorrow. 

Love,

Your Wife

~~~~~

“Thank you,” you told Emma as she handed you a lemonade. 

Emma and Penny took you out for the day to spend some time out of Mav’s house. You were growing increasingly less interested in leaving your 'nest,' as Bradley nicknamed it, and they were trying their best to get you motivated to go out and continue to live your life.

You had done some shopping for a dress to wear to your baby shower and now the three of you were getting a snack before you’d head over to the Hard Deck for the rest of the afternoon. You chatted for a moment before you sighed, slowly got to your feet, and grabbed your purse from your chair. 

“Bathroom?” Emma asked you.

“Where else?” you joked, walking off. 

A few minutes later, as you were washing your hands at the sink, you looked up when another woman stepped inside the bathroom. You offered her a friendly smile before her familiarity suddenly struck you. Quickly drying your hands, you reached for your bag and turned to leave. But the woman stood directly in your path.

She had stripes of gray cutting through what appeared to be deep auburn hair. She carried herself with a sense of purpose. And an expensive handbag. She reminded you of some of the women you used to see at the country club that you worked at in college. The type who turned a blind eye when their pig husbands made some demeaning comment to the women on staff and were never seen without some kind of drink in their perfectly manicured hands.  

“You know who I am?” Georgia Seresin asked softly.

You stared her down, gripping the strap of you bag tightly. Your heart was beating hard in your chest, and you could practically feel the rhythm in your ears. Taking a breath and releasing it, you tilted your chin up and narrowed your eyes at her.

“What are you doing here?” you demanded quietly, looking around the small public bathroom. No one else was in there except for the two of you. “Are you stalking me?”

“I came to California when my son didn’t respond to my letter.”

“I wonder why?” you wondered sarcastically.

“What did he tell you?”  

“Everything,” you stated firmly. “Which is why I would appreciate it if you stopped acting like it was just a coincidence that you ran into me here, hundreds of miles from your home, when Jake is conveniently deployed.” You paused for a moment before repeating through gritted teeth, “Why are you here?”

“To talk to you. About my son.”

“What about your son?”

“I know that your child isn’t here yet, but when they’re born, perhaps you can understand how much pain it could cause a mother to miss out on their child’s wedding or the process of them expecting their first child. From a mother to a mother—”

“—I’m going to stop you right there.”

You tried to keep your tears of anger in as you thought about Jake’s expression when he told you about his childhood. When you thought about the pain that you could hear in his tone, that you could feel radiating off of him.

“Because a woman who calls herself a mother would never do the things that you did. You stole him from a poor girl who loved him. You lied to her, promising that you would take care of him and love him. And then you turned around and fed him to the wolves." Nostrils flaring and angry tears threatening to fall, you added, "Did you ever even tell him that you loved him?"

“Of course, we did,” she admonished.

“Did you? Did you tell him that you were proud of him? That you loved him no matter what happened?” you snapped, trying to keep your voice even. “Every night my mom told me that she loved me and that she was proud of me. How many times did you tell Jake that, Georgia? How is a child supposed to just know that if you don’t tell them?” Shaking your head as you let out a shaky breath, you turned back to her. “And just so you know, there won’t be a day where Jake doesn’t tell our child that he loves them. Not one.”

Georgia adjusted her handbag on her shoulder and pursed her lips together. Clearly, she wasn’t used to being spoken to in this manner, but you didn’t give a shit about her feelings. 

“Did you come here to convince me to talk Jake into speaking to you again? To buy my baby from me? A combination of the two? Does your husband know that you’re here? Is he waiting outside?”

Georgia took another moment to compose herself from your questions. She glanced down at the rings on your finger before meeting your gaze again.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that Jake selected a woman as . . . outspoken as you,” Georgia stated, adjusting her handbag again. “No, my husband does not know that I’m here. And I’m not here to buy my grandchild. I’m here to try and get through to my son and I’ve realized that the best way to do that would be through you. The woman he married and is having a child of his own with.”

Your eyes flashed with annoyance at Georgia's words.

“I have no interest in having a relationship with you because Jake doesn’t have an interest in it.”

“There’s nothing I can do to persuade you to speak with him about me?” Georgia pressed, an edge of desperation in her tone. 

“No, there’s not.”

“You would deny your child a set of grandparents?”

“I will protect my child from people who hurt their father.”

Forcing yourself to take a breath, you stared down Georgia for a moment. She looked far more pathetic than you knew she was comfortable with. Apparently, she thought that she would just waltz in, and you would agree with her without any pushback.

But she couldn't have been more wrong.

“You know, when Jake told me about his upbringing, I honestly felt a bit of sympathy for you, Georgia. Maybe you were convinced that being a rich housewife to a pathetic little man was a better life than being loved by a poor man. And I’m sure that your husband hasn’t been kind to you over the years.” 

The rage flashed to the surface again as she turned away from you for a moment. 

“But how could you look another woman in the eye and convince her to hand over an innocent baby to a man that you knew would be a horrible father? That you knew would hurt that baby?”

After a moment, you walked past Georgia, who did not move to block your path this time. You opened the door and strode out of there and you didn't dare look back. Trying to gather yourself, you looked up to see Emma and Penny a few steps away from you. 

“Are you okay? We were getting worried," Emma questioned with clear concern.

“Fine. Let’s get going to the Hard Deck,” you stated, already turning towards the parking lot. 

“What happened?” Penny asked, studying your expression. You didn’t reply and just kept marching towards the parking lot until Penny rested a hand on your shoulder, forcing you to slow down. “You’re shaking. What’s wrong?”

“Jake’s mom walked into the bathroom,” you explained quietly, looking over your shoulder. 

“What?"

“She knew where you were?” Penny asked urgently, looking around with a protective stare. Wrapping her arm around your shoulders, she encouraged you forward again. “Come on, let’s get going.”

~~~~~

Maverick’s face darkened after you finished with your explanation about what happened at the mall. Grabbing his phone, he got up from the table with a serious expression.

“I’m going to make a call,” he stated firmly. “They can’t stalk you and your child. I don’t care who the hell that they think they are in Texas. That’s not going to fly out here. That’s not going to continue.”

“Who are you calling?” you asked as Maverick walked off. 

“An old contact. I’ll be right back.”

Penny told you to just let Mav make the call as the remaining four of you remained seated at the table. You twisted your engagement ring around your finger nervously, sharing a look with Emma and Bradley, who sat across from you. 

“She didn’t try to hurt me—”

“—Doesn’t matter,” Bradley interjected quickly. “It’s creepy and it’s over the line and it’s going to stop. Now. Just let Mav make his call. He'll handle it.”

“I know,” you sighed, holding your head in your hands. “Jake is going to freak out when I tell him.”

“You’re going to tell him right away?”

“I can’t hide it from him. It might take me some time to find the words, but I have to tell him.”

Penny hugged you to her side and rubbed your back with her hand, giving you the maternal support that you really needed in that moment. You sighed and leaned against her, desperately wishing that Jake would be home soon.

“Everything will be alright. We’re going to figure this out.”

~~~~~

Dear Jake,

I hope that everything is running smoothly where you are. And that you read this email sooner rather than later. 

Penny and Emma took me to the shops yesterday and when I was trying to leave the bathroom, I ran into your mother. She came up from Texas and she told me that she wanted to talk to me about you. Said something about using me to convince you to talk to her again. I told her that I wasn’t interested in that because you weren’t interested in that. She let me leave after that. 

I don’t want to stress you out or make you feel like you have to do anything when you’re so far away, but I wanted to be honest with you. Mav’s made a few calls and he seems to think that he has a solution. Don’t stress about us, just focus on your mission and coming home safely in one piece. 

We love you, Jake. And we’re safe, we’re fine. And we miss you. 

Love,

Your Wife

~~~~~ 

Folding some fresh laundry in Maverick's house a few days later, you looked up when you heard your phone buzz. An unknown number was calling you and despite your hesitation, you answered it. 

“Hello?”

“Hi, Honey.”

“Jake?” you whispered out shakily, holding a hand to your mouth. Moving to sit, you tried to calm yourself down and not just simply sob. “How are you calling me?”

“I have my ways,” Jake replied teasingly. Growing more serious, he asked, “Are you alright?”

“We’re fine, Jake.” 

“I’m so sorry, Honey. She never should have been anywhere near the two of you.”

“We’re fine,” you repeated softly. “She didn’t threaten us. If anyone was threatening anyone, it was me.”

“That’s my wife,” Jake praised, causing you to smile bashfully. “But my father wasn’t there, right? It was just my mother?”

“Yeah. She said that he didn’t know that she was there, and I didn’t see him around.”

“Good. I’ll deal with them when I get home.”

“Okay.” After a moment you asked, “How much longer do you have?”

“Less than a minute. I’m sorry, Honey, I just needed to know that the two of you were okay. They thought that I was having some kind of stroke when I read your email and I managed to convince them to let me call you.”

“At least one good thing came out of the whole shitshow,” you sighed, resting a hand on your bump. “I love—”

You froze when you felt your daughter press her foot against your hand. Jake felt his heart leap into his throat when you cut yourself off and stop talking without a clear reason.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“She’s kicking,” you whispered softly.

“What?”

“Jake, she’s kicking. Our daughter is kicking!”

“She’s kicking?”

“Yes, she’s kicking,” you laughed, before your joy dimmed and tears pooled in your eyelids. Sniffling, you croaked out, “I love you so much, Jake. We love you so much.”

“I love you too. And I miss you so fucking much, Honey. And I’m so sorry that I’m not there.”

“Hangman, time’s up,” Jake heard from behind him, causing him to look over his shoulder. 

“I’ve got to go, Honey,” he replied, grinding his jaw to try and stave off the tears. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too. Bye, Jake.”

The line went dead, and you slowly placed your phone down. Holding your hand to your mouth, you finally let out your sobs. And about a thousand emotions that you'd tried keeping in ever since Jake was forced to leave you. 

Your daughter was finally kicking, but her father wasn’t here to feel her. And the thought only made you sob harder. 

Back on the carrier, Jake rubbed the tears that leaked from his eyes. 

He missed it. He fucking missed it. He missed his daughter kicking for the first time. He wasn’t there when his mother showed up out of nowhere and accosted you in a public bathroom. He wasn’t going to be there for your baby shower.

Jake had anticipated that deploying while you were heavily pregnant was going to be difficult. But he didn’t realize that it was going to be impossible, killing him slowly from the inside out. 

“Hangman?”

“I’m coming,” Jake called back, clearing his throat. “I’m coming.”

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[trendywaifus]

Aight, then how's about some lap pillow lovin with Nicole and Zhu Yuan?

I feel like Zhu Yuan REALLY deserves a lap pillow, but I'm pretty short, so it would be more like me being a stomach pillow tbh.

That's not to say that she wouldn't want to be a lap pillow if you asked, it's just me personally wanting to make her all happy after work!

*Sigh* soon her parents will hopefully be interacted with or seen in the story so that I can think about how she'd get us to meet her family and stuff

Anyway, meanwhile, I almost think Nicole would be a lap pillow almost-exclusively to butter you up or something post-date

although this isn’t a thirst (idc if this was or not, im a sucker for fluff/domestic loveee), this is cute! tysm for the ask! also in zhu ep, i think her parents were shown multiple times and it was so adorable! (i’ll have to write a lil drabble of the reader meeting her parents)

zhu needs some rest and i can imagine her coming home from her shift and she wants to take a small nap before eating dinner. you suggest a lap pillow and zhu yuan’s red in the face, but nonetheless she takes your offer because she has to be crazy if she denies her lover!

“ are you really sure i can rest my head down on your lap for a little bit? “ zhu yuan ask hesitantly, sitting down on the bed next to you with red cheeks. you nod your head, patting your lap. “ yes zhu, i’m sure. “

“ wh-what if my head’s heavy? “

“ it won’t be. “

“ what if your legs go numb while i nap? “

“ i don’t care—baby, just c’mere, “ you curl a hand around the back of her neck and guide her head down on your lap. the tips of her ears are red as she adjusts. you move pieces of soft black hair away from her eyes. “ feeling comfortable? “

“ y-yes, “ zhu yuan’s head turns a bit so her shy ruby hues meet yours. you laugh at her flustered state. “ why so shy? we’ve slept in the same bed together for over a year, pumpkin. “

“ r-right—but well, this feels oddly more intimate. i-i feel more vulnerable like this—n-not in a bad way! i. .just don’t know how to describe this feeling. “

you hum, stroking her head in a comforting manner. zhu yuan finds herself relaxing little by little as she focus more on your gentle digits playing with her hair and scratching her scalp. “ it’s fine, even if you feel vulnerable right now, you’re safe with me. rest a little, yeah? i won’t leave. “ you assure her lovingly, casting her a warm smile when your lover glances at you from the corner of her vision.

“ do you promise? “ zhu yuan asks in an unbelievably soft voice filled with hope, her eyes slowly closing as exhaustion seeps into her veins. she reminded you of a tired child resting in her parent’s arms. well it’s a fitting comparison, since she is a mommy and daddy’s girl.

“ i promise, love. see you when you wake up. “

nicole, oh my godd nicole would absolutely be your lap pillow if it means to butter you up! imagine you’re sitting on the bed sulking, nicole walks in, sees the look on your face, and be like “ what’s with that look on your face? geez, lay your head on my lap. i’m only doing this to cheer you up and i hate seeing you sad because i care about you. “ as for post dates, you’d have to ask her and she’ll be like,

“ y-you want me to be your lap pillow? . . .fine, lay down right here. wh-what do you mean you’re surprised i accepted so easily?! ugh—just lay your damn head on my lap before i change my mind, dummy. i-i’m only doing this because the date gone well. “ (that’s an excuse. nicole will let you lay your head down on her lap even if you ask her on normal occasions. she enjoys the weight of your head on your lap but ofc she won’t admit that. )

[thesunloveschips]

Eye of the Storm - Chapter 7: Awake

Summary: In the wake of Rhysand’s ascension as High Lord, the Bone Carver gifts a prophecy. More than five hundred years later, Azriel continues to wait for the one who is finally reborn as his High Lady’s sister. All it takes a dip in the Cauldron for things to start falling into place.

Chapter Summary: Relief washes over Azriel. Nyra wakes up.

Click here to access the Masterlist of the Eye of the Storm

****

Azriel woke up in the healer’s quarters. The first thing he saw was the ceiling illuminated by daylight streaming into the room from the floor to ceiling windows. Upon sensing his discomfort, the shadows clouded his vision and slowly spread apart, giving him time to adjust to the light. They informed him that he had been unconscious for eight days.

He turned his head to the side and saw an unconscious Cassian. He saw how his brother’s wings were still being healed by the healers on surrounding him. One of those healers had seen him wake and rushed off, probably to alert Madja. There were bandages on his chest. And his shadows, half of them were not even there with him.

“How are you feeling?” The old lady asked just as she met his gaze.

“Mild pain in the chest. Weak limbs from lack of physical activity.” Azriel’s response sounded more like a healer’s diagnosis. He had found it easier to tell them what he thought whenever the healers asked him how he felt. A rarity when you counted his brothers who would try to lie and get out as soon as possible.

“Restrict your physical activity till the pain subsides and let the wounds heal. Your wings are fine but keep flapping them every now and then so that they don't feel unused once your body heals.”

A shadowy snake slithered through the air, startling one of Madja’s assistants. His shriek attracted everyone’s attention in the form of a glare. The shadow approached him and curled next to his ear and shoulder. Mate. And all sense had been lost when the shadow whispered that word and the rest of them echoed after it. He discovered that half of his shadows were with her.

Rhysand appeared by the door, looking at him with wide eyes. The moment Azriel registered him, Rhys was already walking towards him. This was not the High Lord but a brother. And he breathed in relief once he saw Azriel awake and healing. He strode over and hugged the shadowsinger tightly. Azriel did his best to conceal his painful groans. Rhys needed this assurance that he was there and Az would give it.

After taking an update on Cassian, Rhys took him and winnowed to the sky above the House of Wind. The two of them landed at the House of Wind. Cassian was still confined to the healer’s quarters and had yet to wake up.

"Where's she?" Azriel walked inside, still shirtless and chest covered in bandages and reeking of whatever medicine that had been used on him for his recovery.

“Fifth floor. She has yet to wake up. Madja says that everything is fine but she’s in a magical sleep of sorts. She’ll wake up only when things stabilise within her. And that’ll take time.” Rhys was pacing after Azriel and he knew the shadowsinger would not stop.

Azriel had heard Rhysand but he walked quicker. The worry and the anxiety, it seemed, were killing him. Mor was already there near the hall which led to her sisters’ rooms, waiting for them. The shadows told him which room was hers and he did not stop.

He passed by Mor who had just exited Nesta’s room. Completely ignored her greeting and moved forward. He halted right in front of her door. For someone who marched forward to Nyra’s room like he’d march into battle, Azriel suddenly lost all confidence. The shadows by Nyra’s side were whispering to the ones crawling on him.

Mate. Sleeping. Soft. Strong.

Azriel’s knees gave up on him and tears flowed down his cheeks. He felt relief, happy, comfort and most of all, safe. Even with him outside the room, he felt safe with the warmth of the mating bond. It was like a faint pulse. Thrumming slowly and nearly silent. He had to focus to feel it. It was a familiar beat. His own heartbeat had changed to match this the night he met Nyra for the first time. When more shadows were born. He felt her on the other side, a quiet presence slumbering peacefully.

Azriel's hand barely touched the door and curled into a fist. The shadowsinger barely registered as the High Lord helped him up his feet and opened the door. They walked into the room with Rhys supporting him lest he fall to his knees again.

Healthy. Strong. The shadows by his side fluttered over to her, ready to care for her and do anything she desired. If only she would wake up. He did not understand what he was feeling. Relief, maybe, because she was alive. He had yet to figure himself out.

The shadows seemed to be reassuring him that she was here. That she would be here. That she was connected to him. And a part of him immediately submitted to this female. The longing to be loved by her started growing. It was a small sprout with a baby leaf, barely there. Next to it was another sprout. The longing to love her with all that he was.

And then he saw it. The magic coursing through her. Felt it in his own bones and blood as if it was his own. What power was that? There seemed to be no limit to it. Azriel watched all of his shadows watch over her carefully. Very few tendrils escaped and caressed her cheek, played with a few hairs. A bunch of them tried to hold her hand but he was quick to rein them in forcefully. He heard Rhysand's footsteps retreat to the outside.

Azriel watched her for mere minutes before he gathered himself and exited the room. Rhysand and Nesta stood outside. They were sizing each other up when the shadowsinger walker out and gently closed the room. They heard the door and not his footsteps. Nesta was openly glaring at him.

“What authority permitted you to enter her room ?” Nesta could care less about Azriel’s freshly dried tears and tired eyes. About the healing he had to still continue.

“I’m sorry. I just…” Azriel did not have the energy to right anyone anymore. “I’m just so glad.”

“Glad that we were dragged into this mess? Made fae by that disgusting cauldron you worship?”

“She’s healthier than when she was mortal.” Azriel did not comprehend Nesta's anger even when he was looking at her face shaped by wrath. Tears pooled in his eyes. "She's healthy." His voice was a whisper that the wind picked up.

Nesta opened her mouth to speak but she did not have anything to say. Could not think of anything to say. “Then why hasn’t she woken up?”

“She hasn’t woken up?” Nesta’s question had Azriel looking to Rhys for answers. Azriel sounded so small, so hopeless at that moment that Nesta was inclined to feel the slightest pity for him. She shoved that feeling down whatever hole it crawled out from.

“She hasn’t.” Rhysand confirmed.

“How long?”

“Eight days.” Rhys turned to Nesta, feeling responsible for what happened to the sisters in Hybern. “We’re trying our best. I have scholars and healers looking into the matter.”

Nesta looked away, pained by the thoughts taking over her. “Will she wake up?” A tear escaped her.

“You woke up. Elain woke up. She will also wake up.” Rhysand sounded determined. He had dragged the sisters into this mess. The sisters after being Made turned out to be his brothers’ mate. One had a mating bond trying her to a Vanserra but that was of little importance right now. Nesta would go mad any day now. Elain was not even in her senses. Nyra was still in a deep slumber. And Feyre was away.

"And what is that?" Nesta pointed towards Azriel's chest.

"Bandages?" Rhysand answered but it sounded more like a question due to his confusion.

"Not the bandages. That thread." Nesta's hand moved forward and grabbed at a string the males could not see. She pulled it and Azriel felt his heart shoot up to his throat. She let go of the string quickly after seeing how Azriel had jolted but the shadowsinger had immediately reentered the room. Nyra's sleeping position had changed. As if someone had tried to shake her to wake up.

"That was probably the mating bond." Azriel answered Nesta, still looking at the sleeping female.

"You're her mate?" Nesta was also now looking at her twin. Azriel hummed. "Is that a problem?"

For a while, she did not answer. She kept thinking about the bond that had led Rhysand to set foot into the mortal lands. At that thought, she looked at Rhysand who looked at her questioningly. Then she looked at Azriel and then back to Nyra. "I don't know."

****

Two more weeks had passed. Nyra was still in some sort of magical sleep. Nesta was getting angrier. It was almost a surprise that she did not claw into Rhysand these recent days. Elain had spoken a few words but that was just answers to questions related to food and water. She could be heard mumbling something inconsequential. Nesta spent her days between their rooms and the library.

Feyre had finally returned home from the Spring Court albeit with a guest who was not exactly welcome or unwelcome. It was evident that Lucien Vanserra was here for his mate, the Archeron who had been mumbling everything under the sun that did not make sense to anyone. Feyre had bathed, made love to her mate and now moved to visit each of her sisters. 

Nesta was anger personified. She ignored her as though she’d been a mere servant than the High Lady of the Night Court. Even after being informed of Feyre destroying the Spring Court. “Elain is not fine. She’s been saying things which do not make sense and Nyra has yet to wake up.”

“We will soon figure out-“ Rhysand’s attempt at a diplomatic answer was interrupted by the raging sister. 

“My sister was full of life before we were dragged into this mess. And my twin, despite being ill, was at least awake to talk to me. And now, even with an immortal body, she has yet to wake up.” Nesta took a deep breath. “So don’t give me this nonsense. Give me the truth, pure and straight.” 

Rhysand inhaled. He knew the moment Nesta was pushed into the Cauldron that she would not let what happened to her sisters slide. That she would refrain from controlling whatever deathly power from the Cauldron that rested within if it meant she could go and break the King’s neck. And Rhysand did not want to stop her or be her target.

“Our healers say that there’s nothing physically wrong with them. Everything is fine. Organs are functioning well. Even the flow of magic is completely fine.” 

“Bring in someone better.” Nesta was one more moment away from slitting his throat. Rhysand nodded and took a few steps back. And even then, he did not understand why Nesta treated Feyre differently from Elain and Nyra. Feyre did not know the answer to that herself.

Feyre stepped forward and dared to ask. “What happened inside the Cauldron?” Nesta glared at her. “Nyra and you were thrown in together. Maybe if you could tell us something about that, it could help us figure out a solution faster.” 

Nesta stared at Feyre and exhaled. She closed her eyes and the memories flooded in. The Cauldron, cold and mocking. It had been an infuriating thing. It was absolutely unacceptable. Even remembering it was painful. How Nyra’s body was just floating without no movement of its own. Not even a single breath. She pressed her hand to her temple. She had to remember. For Nyra. Her sister. Her twin. They had shared everything from a womb to clothes and secrets and lives and lies. 

And then it came to her. That string she saw. It emerged from Nyra’s heart and twirled down her left arm and floated away from her to a male. The string had wrapped around him just like it had Nyra. The winged man with blue gems. 

“Azriel. He needs to hear what I’m going to say.” Nesta was looking straight at Rhysand who nodded. Azriel walked in a few minutes later, his face calm. 

“You asked for me?” Azriel spoke, his voice not giving away a single hint of the worry he held for Nyra. 

“Nyra died in the Cauldron.” Nesta did not mince words. She did not do anything to beat around the bush. But the only thing she knew about the winged male in front of her was that he could understand. That he would understand. Two weeks ago, she did not know whether their mating bond was a problem or not. Now, it was their only chance.

“I know.” It took every bit of control Azriel had forged in the last five hundred years to let the pain be revealed. 

“And then she came to life.” Azriel nodded. “There was a thread connecting her to you. You’re connected to her the same way Rhysand and Feyre are connected, aren’t you?” Azriel nodded again. “Use that to call out to her.”

She would not use that word—mate. Not in her life would she ever acknowledge such a thing. It sounded too romantic to be real. And with Rhysand and Feyre and their mating bond on display, it sounded like an excuse to be shackled. More so when she remembered Elain and Lucien.

“Did you see anything that explained how?” Nesta shook her head. And the sadness in her eyes resulted in Azriel saying something before he could even control himself. “We’ll figure it out.” Shock graced Nesta’s features for a mere second before she wore her mask of composure and nodded. Azriel pivoted, nodded at his High Lady and High Lord and exited the room wordlessly. 

“How?” Nesta almost lost her balance and Feyre darted forward to help support her, looking at her worriedly. “How does this connection work?” 

Outside the room, Cassian perked up at that question. Azriel, who had not really left the area, laid a hand on his shoulder in a silent request to retain control. 

Cassian looked at his brother and they knew each other. They knew how much Rhys and Feyre loved each other. How beautiful the mating bond had been for their brother. And if a chance at something so beautiful and with such purpose would appear for them then why wouldn’t they try? Why wouldn’t they try to know the females connected to them? 

They knew the Archeron sisters were fierce in their own way with their love. Nesta was ferocious. She would claw her way out of hell for Nyra and Elain. Nyra was calm and cool. She loved with loyalty and all her life. Elain was kind and hopeful. Feyre had actually fought for her love and had died for that even if that was for the wrong male but there was no doubt that she’d go beyond for Rhys.

Cassian and Azriel had already been loved by Feyre for being family. And that was a very powerful love they shared with Feyre. She was Iike a younger sister to them. 

Deep in his heart, the General knew that Nesta’s feelings would be an impact. It would not be gentle like a breeze. It would strike him in the chest like a spear. And it would change everything even he did not understand. And he knew Nesta was not just any other female he'd fancy. She was it. Everything—the beginning and the end. But she had been hurt in the worst way possible by being witness to her sister’s sufferings. She’d been thrown into the Cauldron with her twin and had been the only one to see her die. 

Cassian was familiar with that sort of feeling. They felt it when Rhys had been trapped for fifty years. With Rhys, they knew he was out there and alive but he was also being subject to something worse than death. And here, Nesta had seen Nyra fall ill, her condition worsen and finally die. 

And heavens knew what Azriel was feeling. Maybe Rhys did. The High Lord had witnessed his mate die to free the male she loved back then. Had felt the bond almost rip before Feyre clawed her way back to the world of the living. She described the feeling as returning home. And that was it. Home was Rhysand. Home was her mate, ready to rip into the minds of the High Lords to get her another chance to live. Home was her mate ready to die after her despite the short time they had. 

But what about Az?

The shadowsinger had felt the bond rip apart from his chest when Maia died five centuries ago. There was the huge hole in his soul that their family only partially managed to fill. And then he’d met Nyra. Sick and frail and still so lovely as the first blush of dawn. And then he felt her die. And the bond remained. Cassian did not know what that felt like and he selfishly hoped to never know. 

Whatever Azriel felt when Nyra came back to life as a fae, Cassian did not know. What he did know was how Azriel was now worried for her and would watch over her. His shadows were already liking her. Cassian knew of Azriel’s fierce loyalty when it came to love. He’d known and loved and lost Maia and now his mate had reincarnated. And now, Nyra was here, in a deep sleep no one seemed to be able to wake her up from. 

“What did you feel?” Cassian suddenly asked. Azriel looked his way. “When Nyra was in the Cauldron.” 

Azriel looked at the wall in front of him. The worry of his mate and her never waking up removed all restraints he placed on his emotions leaking out of him. And this was Cassian. His brother who had taught him how to fly. Who’d stuck by him ever since he met him. The first person to whom he’d confined about his hands. And suddenly. The river began flowing.

“I’ve felt her ever since I met her.” That was new information. But then again nothing about Azriel was normal. Maybe that extended to the female who was his mate. This was a shadowsinger and his mate who had reincarnated. Her birth was the Bone Carver's prophecy come true.

“I had left behind my shadows here when we visited them for the first time.” Another exhale. “But new shadows were born. They were excited, ready to go to her. They told me everything about her. When a strand of her hair moved to her cheek. When she adjusted her clothes. They’d analyse the colour of her dress and rave about it and how it suited her for hours. It was irritating at first.” Azriel leaned on the wall next to Cassian. “New shadows are like babies. They usually keep babbling until I calm them down. But these new ones never calmed down because I never allowed them to go to her. I'm going to leave the older shadows with her because they behave better than the newborns.” 

“I have felt her through the newborns when she was mortal and now I feel her through…” Azriel trailed away, not daring to say the word. As though saying it would result in him losing it. The mating bond was a blessing, he was sure of it. But to say it out loud would be to doom it. “I feel her. And I felt her die and come back. And I was already dying. It wouldn’t have been too difficult to follow her.” To death. 

Oh, Cassian was starting to understand Azriel. Or maybe he did not. Maybe he did not want to understand. He did not want to know that feeling.

“Call out to her, Azriel.” Rhys spoke from the entrance of Nesta’s room. Azriel looked at him once, knowing completely that he had been listening to his rant. The shadowsinger would never begin a rant without his barriers if he didn’t know how many people could hear. “Call out to her before it’s too late.” 

And the burning feeling in his chest rose till it was a flame, leaving behind smoke and ash for him to suffocate on. And in his panic, he did not realise it until he and his shadows caught the bond together and tugged once. He reigned them back, hoping that the tug did not harm her in any way. And by the time he was breathing heavily with Cassian and Rhys holding him up, the air thrummed around them. 

He knew it. 

He would always know it. 

Nyra Archeron was awake. 

****

Nyra felt tired. She felt like she had a very satisfying sleep but maybe it was for too long. Her eyes opened once and then it closed, hoping that there was still more time to sleep. The rays of the evening sun crept through the translucent curtains. She turned and closed her eyes and opened them. Someone was watching her. She looked at the person watching her straight in the eye. 

A female emerged from the walls as though she was travelling through them. It was a picture of an angel of death. Nyra remained confused but then she felt something. The absence of something. There was no more pain in her chest. And the presence of something. Whatever that was, she had yet to identify.

“Lady Nyra.” The wraith began. “My name is Nuala. I am-“ but Nyra did not let her continue.

“Am I dead?” 

Nuala was startled for a second before she answered. “No, you’re not.”

Nyra sat up and looked  around at the unfamiliar surroundings. “What is this place, if not the afterlife?” 

“We’re at Velaris, the Court of Dreams.” Nuala smiled warmly. As warmly as woman with a cool presence did. “It is a city in the Night Court.”

She closed her eyes and racked her brains. Velaris. It sounded familiar. Where has she heard it before?

“Feyre Archeron is the High Lady of the Night Court. She rules alongside her mate, Rhysand, the High Lord.” 

Nyra blinked once and twice and thrice. “Are you talking about some other Feyre Archeron or my youngest sister?”

“I am referring to your youngest sister.” Nuala watched Nyra in her inner turmoil. The tea she wanted was prepared by now. “This is chamomile tea. It’ll help with your headache.” The Archeron looked at her and then at the cup.

“May I?” Nuala gestured at the bed, asking permission to sit. Nyra nodded. The female sat next to her on the bed and handed her the mug. Nyra took a slow sip before continuing. 

This lady was beautiful. With dark skin and darker hair, she truly looked like an angel of death and that prompted a question. “Are you sure I’m not dead?” Nuala looked surprised before she shook her head. 

Nobody talked for a while. Nyra continued to drink her tea, feeling a little better with every sip. Once the tea was finished, she handed the mug to Nuala. By then night had fallen, and a blanket of stars had graced the skies of Velaris. Nyra looked at it and did not look away. 

“May I ask you something?” Nuala’s voice made her look away from the starry skies. Nyra nodded.

“Why do you keep asking me if you’re dead? Is there some discomfort you feel?”

Nyra placed a hand on her chest and looked down as though she could see her insides and whatever that had once plagued her. She clutched the white nightgown and closed her eyes. “Because it doesn’t hurt anymore.” 

In fact, she felt nice. Like a warm blanket wrapped around her in an embrace. She relished it. Closed her eyes and hummed faintly.

****

Outside the room, Azriel clenched his hands in his pathetic attempt to stop crying. She was alive. Safe. Healthy. He had been waiting so long for her. And now that she was here, he did not know which deity to thank, which power to bow before. He did not know much about Nyra but the relief he kept feeling was infinite. And he when he saw Nesta, he let his tears flow.

"She's awake." Nesta looked at him, wide-eyed but she did not enter the room like he had expected. She gave him the first smile and raised her arms. In an act of surprise, Azriel hugged her as he cried into her arms. "She's safe."

****

A/N: Hello. I think Nesta and Azriel share one of the most beautiful friendships I've ever read about.

****

TAGLIST:

@waytoomanyteenagefeels@impossibelle@esposadomd@starswholistenanddreamsanswered@judig92@bunnyredgirl@sh4nn@a-frog-with-a-laptop@kattzillaa@ronnieglennn@wallacewillow0773638@forgiveliv@justdreamstars@donttellthecats@cat-or-kitten@jojodojo02@wandas-dream@evylynny@weasleyreidstyles@stqrgirlies-blog@why4anne@acourtofdreamsandshadows @saltedcoffeescotch @mybestfriendmademe@macimads@footyandformula @noelli-smv @mqlfoyelf @thehighlordishere @slytherintaco @spideytingley @deeshag

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

good morning!! it's @henderdads' birthday!!!! happy happy happy birthday to youuuu cass!!!

The minute Eddie Munson turned 18, he could see it; the only color he would see until he and his soulmate kissed for the first time.

Yellow.

Rays and rays of warm yellow sunshine, the middle light (and middle light only) of the one stoplight in town, one half of their school colors, the dandelions spotted agross the grass between the trailers, the stubborn daffodils that keep reappearing in Ms. Wilson’s garden though she’s long since passed…

The half-toned things he’s told are green, half yellow, half blue, and that he got lucky his soulmate’s favorite color wasn’t black or gray (then he felt glad he’d settled on a different color than either of those by time he was older, he didn’t want to subject his soulmate to more black and white..

After Steve Harrington turns 18, he can see the color of the lipstick his mom wore in their last family portrait, the color of the punch that gets spilled all over Nancy’s shirt at Tina’s halloween party, the stripes and piping on his godforsaken Scoops uniform, the red of his own blood rushing down the drain beneath his feet.

The dark tone puddled beneath Eddie’s limp body in the Upside Down.

The same color splashed onto Dustin’s arms and legs.

Pressing his hands into it to stop it from spreading, to start it flowing again, Steve presses his lips to Eddie’s once…he hasn’t done CPR since he worked at the pool….twice…”C’mon man, don’t leave him like this.”....

The third time is when it happens.

The feeble beat of Eddie’s heart starting again, the push of breath into his lungs, the sudden flood of cool, dark colors around them. 

“Eddie? Eddie! C’mon man, stay with me.”

It looks like it takes a herculean effort to do so, but Eddie’s eyes open. “H–hey, Harrington. Wh–”

“I’m going to pick you up now, Ed,” Steve says, doing just that, tucking Eddie into his chest and starting for the trailer. “El is keeping the gate open for us but we gotta hurry.”

The four of them manage to get him out through the gate and into the RV, this time with Nancy behind the wheel. 

Having to let him go at the doors to the ER is one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do, but he manages, Robin telling him over and over again that she’d already called Eddie’s Uncle and that he’d be safe.

While they’re waiting, filthy and exhausted but victorious nonetheless, Nancy says to him: “It’s blue, by the way. The…everything down there has some sort of blue tinge to it.”

Steve doesn’t ask how she knew, just appreciates that he can look at something and she’ll tell him the name of the color. 

The pattern of the chairs is orange and purple, the plant in the corner is green (“All plants are some shade of it for the most part.”), the wallpaper is his favorite though.

“It’s yellow.”

“I guess I know what color Eddie’s been seeing the past few years..” It’s the first and last thing he says until Wayne Munson comes to get them.

“You three need’ta be looked at too. Not jus’ Henderson.”

He leads them back to a room, and Steve recognizes Dr. Owens there waiting for them.

They get looked over, they get cleaned up, and Steve gets a shot of something that’s supposed to help stave off anything those flying rats may have given him.

And for the next week, he stays. 

He and Wayne maintain a constant vigil at Eddie’s bedside. Wayne leaves for his shifts when he has to, Steve is allowed to stay because of his soulmate status, and Eddie wakes up a little more than a week later.

Wayne had left a couple hours ago, so Steve will have to call him at the plant but first: “Steve?” Eddie manages to croak out when his eyes crack open the first time.

“Hey Eds, welcome back to the world of the living.”

Eddie shuts his eyes and huffs a laugh, then cringes, “Still painful as always, I see.”

“Oh yeah? What else do you see?”

Steve watches his brow furrow as he tries to make sense of the question, watches as he opens his eyes again, a bit further this time, and when they widen in amazement as they travel around the room.

“What–? What the hell..?” The heightened beeping of his heart monitor makes Steve feel almost giddy, getting to watch him see this for the first time. “What nurse kissed me while I was out?” He pauses, staring down a painting of colorful wildflowers on the opposite wall before turning back to Steve. “And can they come back so I can get more pain meds?”

Steve chuckles as he stands stiffly from the hospital chair he’d been all but glued to for the last week, reaching over Eddie’s head to press the call button.

“What’s so funny?”

“You, of course.”

“Thank you, I try, but what’d I do this time?”

“It wasn’t a nurse, Eds.”

Eddie blinks at him for a moment, confused, “I don’t quite have the brainpower for riddles, Stevie.”

Steve’s stomach flips at the nickname, “It wasn’t a nurse, it was when we were still in the—down there.” he pauses, feeling suddenly embarrassed. Did Eddie want it to be him? His first assumption was one of the nurses… “Someone had to give you CPR.”

He watches as Eddie scrolls through what he can only assume is a roster of their “Team Vecna”; Nancy? It’s been known that she’s been able to see in full color since she and Jonathan got together. Dustin? Yeah..no. Ro–

“And it wasn’t Robin.” Steve says when he sees Eddie’s lips curl into an ‘R’.

“Then who—”

It dawns on him at the same time the summoned nurse arrives with a new shot of whatever it is he needs.

She leaves with an excited “We’ll call Wayne!”, and Eddie drops his head back to his pillow.

Steve’s stomach twists anxiously. “Eddie?”

“So you’re telling me that the one and only Steve Harrington gave me the kiss of life and also the gift of colorvision, and I wasn’t conscious enough to experience it properly?”

Steve ducks his head, scratching behind his ear nervously. “Uh…yeah…? Sorry Eddi–”

“Can you do it again?”

His head snaps up again, “Huh?”

“And preferably before I lose the battle for my consciousness?”

Eddie’s face is soft and open, a smile quirking the pink of his lips and crinkling those dark eyes of his…Who is Steve to tell him no?

He smiles softly in return and stands.

Leaning forward with his weight braced to one side of Eddie’s head, the other hand coming up to cup his uninjured cheek, Steve kisses him properly for the first time.

The first of many many many more to come.

eeee i hope you liked this little thing!!! i've never written anything w soulmates before!! 🥹 i hope you have the most bestest day today, friend!! 🫶🫶

[m0nsterqzzz]

(If you're not accepting requests, I apologize) I NEED you to write a part 2 of "happy wife happy life" where years pass and Clarisse proposes to Reader fr 😭😭

Happy Wife Happy Life (part two)

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pairing: Clarisse La Rue x fem reader

summary: many years after your childhood best friend became your girlfriend and a few after you moved with her to Arizona for college, she seems to becoming more distant. Your determined to find out why.

a/n: this is literally such a cute idea first of all. thank you so much for requesting!! i hope it lives up to the expectations and I'm so glad you like the first one anon!! <3333

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Alone can mean a lot of things.

It can mean being by yourself, no one else in the room, or lonely, as in feeling like you're all by yourself in a world full of people.

The thing about you and Clarisse, is she never lets you feel alone. 

Obviously, if you need space, she’ll give it. But she always makes sure you’re not lonely.

Until now that is.

About five years ago, you and your girlfriend left the safe place called Camp Half Blood to go to college together in Arizona, and it was soon after that you had an apartment together. You guys didn’t have a lot of money, and you didn’t have the nicest things, but you had each other. That was enough.

At least, you thought it was.

Recently, Clarisse has been distant. You blamed it on her job at first-she loves being a construction worker, but it’s tiring. When she started taking hours to come home after the time she was supposed to be off, you blamed it on how much she loves going to the gym or out for runs and probably loses track of times like she used to when she would do sword training when you guys were younger. After that, you blamed it on her being stressed from work, and Clarisse sometimes likes to go have a drink with her coworkers after work. But the thing about it was, she never came home sweaty. That ruled out the gym. She also never came home drunk or even smelling of alcohol, so the thought of her going to the bar after work was also out of the picture.

Which is why you find yourself here, curled up onto the couch as your eyes stay glued to the digital clock on the shelf near the tv- Clarisse has never been able to read a normal clock- as the seconds, minutes, and hours pass by. Your girlfriend got off work five hours ago, which makes it now exactly 10:30 pm. It may not seem too late, and you're quite scared that staying up to wait for Clarisse after making her dinner that now rests in tupperware in the fridge as it got cold while you were waiting for her at the table will make you seem paranoid. You push it to the back of your mind though. Clarisse, the girl who punches anyone who looks at her wrong, has always told you that communication is clear in your relationship. It’s the main reason that you have decided to confront her about her distance. Why isn’t she just communicating? 

Your eyes finally peel away from the clock when you hear a key quietly slotting into the front door before it slowly creeks open. She’s always been sure to be quiet when coming home late, and whether it’s because she doesn’t want to wake you up from a peaceful slumber or so she doesn’t have to talk to you, you just don’t know.

“Hey.” You mumble, but it’s silent enough in the room that she hears you and freezes in the entryway. It’s a small apartment as you guys didn’t have a lot of money during college, so you can see her standing in front of the door, slowly taking off her shoes as she avoids looking at you.

“Hey angel. What are you doing up? Don’t you have work tomorrow?” One of the first things she said to you in weeks, and she doesn’t even seem excited to be around you.

With a sigh, you reveal, “I took the day off tomorrow. We need to talk.” If possible, the girl seems to tense even more. “What’s wrong?” She questions, sitting on the opposite end of the couch you're on with her sock covered feet under her legs. A month ago, she would’ve been laying on you, cuddled up so close to you that one would think she actually wants to merge into your skin. Not now though. Now, it seems like she can’t get far enough from you.

“I don’t know.” You start. “You tell me what’s wrong.” Clarisse seems taken aback, but she doesn’t say anything as she stares at the worn out pillow on your lap. “N-Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine.”

You scoff quietly, picking at the skin around your finger nails. Clarisse hates when you do that. She says she doesn’t want you to cause any pain to yourself. She doesn’t make a move to stop you now. “Okay then. Maybe nothings wrong with you, but is there something wrong with us?”

She seems to take notice of the desperation in your tone as her fingers twitch before they hesitantly reach over to hold your hand. "I....nothings wrong with us. Promise."

You sigh heavily, looking up to the ceiling to stop the forming tears from falling. "Then tell me why you're so distant Clarisse. Please." You're practically begging at this point, and her frown only deepens.

"I'm sorry." Her voice is small, a stark contrast to her usual booming tone. "I can't tell you. Not yet at least. But I promise. I will."

You sit in silence for a minute, eyes not meeting before you stand up from the couch and start making your way to the hallway that leads to your guys bedroom. "Stop promising things Clar." You mutter, lingering for a second before you turn off the lights and leave.

That night, you barely slept. Clarisse doesn't come to bed, probably asleep on the couch the way she always does when she thinks she's bothering you. This can't be the end of your relationship. She's been yours since you guys were kids. And you were hers. What changed?

The next morning, you're awakened by the sound of a loud beeping coming from what sounds like every place in the apartment. Your head hurts from crying last night as you stand up, and you make sure to wipe the dried tears off your face before you make your way out of the bedroom in sweats and one of your girlfriends shirts.

There is a calm but warm breeze coming in from the open balcony doors, but that thought is put on a back burner when you walk into the kitchen to see Clarisse sprinting to the sink with a smoking pan i. hand. She's muttering Greek curse words under her breath as she puts water on what looks like burnt eggs. Once that is calmed down, she opens the oven to reveal a cloud of heat and very crispy biscuits. You can't help but let out a silent laugh at the sight of her angrily swatting a hand towel at the smoke alarm to make it stop beeping.

"What's going on here?" You question, and she quickly tries to get you out of the room of chaos. "Hey honey. Did I wake you?" Clarisse rushes out as she leads you to sit down on the couch. "I'm making you breakfast."

You giggle, the sound causing a small smile to grace your girlfriend's face. "It seems like it's going well."

She nods, sighing as she places a chaste kiss on your head before rushing back to the kitchen to throw out her soaked scrambled eggs. For a second, it feels like the past month never happened. The warmth from the kitchen and open doors can't compare to the warmth in your chest as you watch your girlfriend be the person you know and love for the first time in way too long. 

She comes back a few minutes later, pancake mix on her cheek as she takes off your apron and sits down next to you on the couch. Unlike last night, she sits as close as possible without actually touching you- probably afraid you’ll reject her touch. “I’m sorry.” She speaks, nervously rubbing her hands together. “I’m really sorry.”

The daughter of Ares slowly leans in a bit, resting her head on your shoulder when you don’t move away. 

“If you’re really sorry, talk to me. Tell me what's happening.” You whisper, and she hears it as she takes a deep breath before nodding and standing up. You stare at her questioningly for a moment as she holds her hand out so she can help you up. Nonetheless, you take it, letting her warm hand hold yours as she leads you somewhere.

The balcony.

You didn’t notice it at first glance as you were busy laughing at Clarisse’s terrible cooking attempt, but it's decorated. Usually, two chairs and a small little table would be on it, but those are now gone, probably somewhere in the house. They’re replaced by a slightly bigger table, clearly the foldable one you guys use when your friends come to visit and they need more room at the three person table in your living room; but she’s put a thin gray table cloth on it that's being held down by a pot of flowers and two glasses of orange juice.

With the background of the far away mountains and plants outside, the place looks beautiful.

“Clar….”

“So? What do you think?” It’s complete deja vu to the day she became your girlfriend. The way she nervously shifts from foot to foot as she scans your face for any sign that you hate it.

“I…I love it.” You mutter, turning to her with a grin. Whether it's an apology for the way she's treated you for the past month or something else, you can’t deny that this is a dream. 

She lets out a breath of relief, nodding as she runs back inside to grab two plates before coming back and setting them down. “Why though?” You ask, and she sighs.

“Because I’ve been a bad girlfriend. And all though it’s no excuse, and I should’ve at least told you why.” You nod with a small smile.

The curly haired girl takes a big deep breath, clearly nervous, before she pulls out a dark red ring box and kneels down on one knee in front of you. “The reason I’ve been gone so often, is because I’ve been out trying to find a ring that’s almost as perfect as you. I made Chiron and my brother help, and I’m sure they’re happy I’m finally done looking. It took forever, because I didn’t think any ring out there was worthy of you. But…then I talked to my dad.”

It’s clear she’s struggling to tell this part, so you force down your excitement to comfort her by caressing her cheek. She leans into your touch, taking a moment before she continues. “He said he’s proud. That he’s happy for me and that I found a good one.” You smile. She’s never had the best relationship with Ares, but it’s clear she’s okay with that now. “Then he gave me this ring.” She opens the box, revealing a beautiful, shiny ring with a silver band and red gem. “He told me he saw it in a store once, loved it, but had no one to give it too. Said he’d be honored if I could use it.”

“So, I hope you love the ring as much as I think you will.” She chuckles, hands slightly shaking as she holds up the ring. “Angel, I know we've had our ups and downs in the past, but I want you to know that I love you with all my heart. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you when we were kids, and I still want to. I know that we have grown and changed in many ways, but I still believe in our love the way I did when I was twelve. Will you do me the honor of being my wife? For real this time."

Finally, a sob escapes your throat, and she’d be scared you’re gonna say no if not for the big grin on your face. “Of course I will! Gods! Yes. I will marry you!” She nods, one of the largest smiles you’ve ever seen growing on her face as she slips the ring onto your left ring finger, the same way she did when you guys were kids. The girl stands up, casually picking you up for a hug like you weigh nothing.

“My wife.” She mumbles into your neck, leaning back to give you a kiss though it's hard with the way you both can’t stop smiling. “You’re finally going to be my real wife.”

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

After many shed tears and gentle kisses, you’re sitting down at the decorated table on your balcony, waiting for your fiance to bring you your breakfast she made.

She comes back with a pan that smells absolutely disgusting, scooping up what is in it before plopping it onto your plate. It’s dark brown mush, and you stare at it for a few seconds before looking up at her with an amused smile. The girl seems to already know what you’re going to say, because she sighs and grabs her phone from her jeans pockets as you giggle. “I’ll order from that café down the road.”

Happy wife, happy life.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

[viennacherries]

I encroach upon ye with a request

Zevlor breeding kink with like, his long term partner who can’t get pregnant for one reason or another (whether you write them as amab or an afab person who is sterile/lacking a functional uterus is up to you)

Zevlor deserves to be really a little bit feral about his partner yk?? Let the man loose himself, it’d be good for the self-loathing imo (/hj)

hi bestie!! my first time trying to write zevlor so i hope u like it! mwah

CONCEPTION

Zevlor/Tav | NSFW | 2,898 words

Summary:

“Tav…” He can hear the grumble in his own voice, watches as it washes over her and she shivers. “Come here.” She shakes her head slowly, a teasing smirk flitting across her face. When she speaks, it's a breath. “Come and get me.” ~~~ Tav and Zevlor want a baby, but things are rarely that simple.

Read it on AO3!

How long has it been now? Several months, at least. And yet he can't give her the one thing she yearns for more than anything. The gift of motherhood. 

Zevlor is certain it’s something wrong with him, because of course it must be. Perhaps it’s a punishment from the Gods for his failures against his kin. Perhaps they’ve deemed him unworthy and made him barren as penance for his sins. Him, an oath-broken paladin who couldn't resist the call of a false deity and sacrificed his people in his hubris, and her, the Hero of Baldur’s Gate who had been ready to sacrifice everything for a whole city of people she owed nothing to. He is broken and flawed in every way she is perfect and faultless. 

And, Hells , does it hurt. Because there's nothing he wants more than to make her happy. There’s nothing he wants more than to start a family with her, to see her hold their child in her arms and to place a kiss to both of their foreheads. There’s nothing more that he wants than to be a father and navigate the turmoils of parenthood with her by his side. 

And yet he keeps failing her. 

The worst part is, he’s fucking enjoying it. Laying with her every night, pumping his seed into her while she begs him to fill her. His infernal hindbrain lavishes in hearing her plead for his spend, in holding her down and filling her repeatedly, in watching his cum spill out of her and fingering it back inside her cunt to make sure not a drop is wasted. Some nights she’ll beg him to fuck her again and again, over and over until they’re both sore and exhausted, and he fucking loves it. 

But other nights, he’ll wake while the sky is still dark to a cold bed, and hear her sobbing in the other room. He’ll reach out his hand and be met with a small damp circle in the centre of the sheets, and he’ll know her cycle has come again. He’ll rise and find her, holding her while she sobs, and wonder how much longer he can stand to see her like this. 

And then they do it all again. 

He’s training in the low sun of the afternoon when she finds him, he feels her eyes on him and catches her leaning against a post from the corner of his vision. She looks radiant as always, wearing her favourite blouse and a skirt he doesn't recognise. 

He usually trains while she runs errands. It’s nothing as intensive as when he was a Hellrider; his joints complain far more these days. A young man he is not, but he still tries to keep himself in shape. Tav can more than hold her own, but he prides himself in feeling able to protect her, needs to know he’s strong enough to keep their family safe. So, when she travels into town for groceries, or visits the children at school to teach them about the Battle for Baldur’s Gate, he takes himself to the drill field on the outskirts and sharpens his sword. 

They’ve made their home in the burgeoning community Halsin has built in the Reclaimed Lands, and she’s absolutely thriving. Retirement from the adventuring life suits her. That's not to say she’s idle, but seeing her able to relax and travel for pleasure rather than a need to outmarch death fills him with joy. 

It’s been a few days since he’s seen her, her trip to the Grove taking longer than usual on this occasion. He’s a soldier, though, so of course he finishes his set before he turns to her (plus it sends a thrill through him, knowing she’s watching him, though he won't ever mention that to her). He wipes his brow along the back of his arm, spears his sword into the earth, and opens his arms wide to her. She giggles as she throws herself into his embrace and he swings her around in circles. That’s the other benefit to keeping up his training, being able to lift and carry her and hear the elated squeals she lets out. It makes him feel a far more youthful man than he is. 

Before he can ask how her trip went, she's kissing him deeply and smiling against his lips. Yet another way being with her makes him feel young; the way her every touch sends heat through his body as though he’s a virginal adolescent. Hells, he loves her so much. 

When she pulls away she’s grinning, and he can't help but return it. “Good journey, I take it?”

She laughs, and the sound is so weightless and musical it makes his head spin. 

“ Great trip! I have something for you - for us!”

He raises an eyebrow in question. She often brings him back little trinkets and treats from the Grove but it’s rare she’s this excited to give him them. 

Scratch bounds up to her before he can ask any questions and practically clings to her, and her beautiful laugh is back again. Whatever queries he may have had are forgotten as she kneels, cackling as Scratch smothers her face in sloppy kisses.

Usually she’ll bring back a brace of rabbits or pheasants that she’s hunted on the trek back, but she tells him excitedly as she brings out the meat for dinner that she managed to snag a deer. She stopped at a small trading post, where they butchered it for her and she traded them everything that wouldn't keep. She holds the venison steaks up proudly and he applauds her as she takes a deep bow, laughing her way through it. She also foraged some fresh herbs and wild garlic, and the traders gave her some asparagus and carrots in return for the doe. 

As usual, he offers to cook, and as usual he’s swatted out of the kitchen, so instead he vows to do the dishes and takes the time to set the table. He feels so lucky to be privy to the mundanity of domestic life with her, so he takes pride in setting their cutlery and placing the table mats down. He lights a few candles, too, because he’s nothing if not a romantic. Tav deserves candlelit dinners. 

He’s still not used to the way she looks after him. A lifetime of bachelorhood and swordsmanship doesn’t prepare a man for gentle touches and lovingly cooked meals. Zevlor considers himself a reasonably talented chef, and he’s not some invalid that never learnt how to do his own laundry, and yet Tav always insists on doing these things for him. He’s quite sure he’s never known a love like it. He’s so used to being relied on, and it took a long time to wrap his head around the idea of letting Tav carry some of his burdens. They lean on each other, they give each other balance and stability. 

Still, it’s always a competition to see who notices the washing on the line is dry first, and they’re often racing one another to take it down. 

Dinner is delicious, as always. The vegetables are roasted in honey and garlic, and she’s cooked the venison in butter which has it tender and flavourful. She even pours them both a glass of wine, and it pairs beautifully. 

When they’ve both eaten, the dishes washed and the candles extinguished, she’s practically vibrating with excitement. 

“My dear,” he says at last, as he watches her shuffling from one foot to the other, “are you going to tell me what has you so agitated?”

She grins and grabs his hand, standing in front of him, and the words burst from her almost immediately.

“It’s me, Zev. I’m the problem.”

He feels his face twist in confusion and sorrow. It’s not hard to deduce what she’s talking about, but he’s not quite sure why that fills her with such glee. 

“Tav… I’m sorry, I-”

She interrupts him with a finger over his lips. “No, no you don't understand. I spoke to Nettie. She says I can have children, I just don't ovulate at regular intervals. She said the reason we've not been able to conceive is because I have a hormone imbalance, not because either of us are sterile.” 

He lets her announcement wash over him. The thought that all of their issues have been poor timing and unfortunate happenstance is… Almost unbelievable. He’d resigned himself so fully to the idea that he was the issue, finding out that isn't the case makes his heart stop in his chest. 

“How do you-”

She interrupts again, “Nettie gave me a brew when I arrived, to balance my hormones. It’s why I stayed in the Grove a few extra days, so she could test them for me. She says everything is as it should be now. She says…” A blush rises over her cheeks, though the ecstatic smile over her features doesn't falter. “She says if we try now she suspects we’ll have no problems.”

He feels his own blush rising to his face, mostly due to the fact that Nettie now knows far more about his sex-life than he’d hoped to share with anyone ever . He opens his mouth to speak but she’s talking again before he can. 

“And, just to be safe, she brewed me a concoction with Mandrake. She said it tastes foul, but that it boosts fertility.” A smirk rises on her face, and she rises on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear. Her breath is warm on his ear and he shivers. “I mixed it into my wine.”

The groan he lets out is involuntary, and it resonates low in his chest like a purr. The sudden switch from confused and sad to elated and turned on has his head spinning, and as she walks him backwards towards their bed he feels his cock rush to attention. 

A single hand in the centre of his chest pushes him back and down, and he sits staring at her from the mattress. She takes two steps backwards and slowly begins unbuttoning her blouse. 

“Zev…” His name on her tongue is like honey. He’s certain she does it on purpose and it drives him wild. “I want you to breed me, darling. Want you to fill me with your babies.”

He clenches his jaw and digs his nails into his thighs. He knows exactly what game she’s playing. She loves to unravel his sensibilities until he’s squirming - until he can't help but rut into her like a wild creature. She knows just how to toy with him to bring his infernal heritage to heel til she gets exactly what she wants. 

She chuckles at his reaction, because obviously she does. “You want that, love? Want to mount me and fill me up?”

The noise he makes at that is closer to a growl than anything else, and he nods tensely. She giggles and lets her blouse drop from her shoulders, and hells, of course she isn't wearing a brassiere. The realisation that she’s been planning this, waiting for this, drives him insane. Suddenly the new skirt makes far more sense. It takes all of his restraint to stay seated where he is.  

Tav brushes a thumb over each of her nipples and lets out an exaggerated keen, which has his cock twitching and straining against his trousers. 

“Tav…” He can hear the grumble in his own voice, watches as it washes over her and she shivers. “Come here.”

She shakes her head slowly, a teasing smirk flitting across her face. When she speaks, it's a breath. 

“ Come and get me .”

Every shred of control he has snaps and he’s on her in an instant, pulling her against his body in one long stride. He hikes her legs up around his waist and holds her there, drawing her as close to himself as he possibly can and bringing their lips together in a bruising kiss. She tightens her legs around him and moans into his mouth and, fuck, he wants her so badly. He spins and drops her down onto the bed, and she gasps as she lands on it. 

She looks a picture like this; skirt sitting high on her thighs with her tits hanging heavy on her chest. An image of her sitting like this, round and full with his child, fills his mind. He imagines her breasts full, imagines her body swelling with pregnancy, and Gods if it doesn't make his cock ache. 

“You…” His voice comes out strained, gravelled and thick. “Are such a tease . I try to be polite and you push…” He moves to stand closer, her head level with his stomach. “... and push…” He puts one hand on her shoulder, easing her backwards and hovering above her. Her legs fall open and he stands between them. “... and push …” He rolls his hips against her core and she throws her head backwards with a moan. “... until I can't help but fold you over, hm? Is that what you want, my love? You want me to use your body til you’re good and bred?”

Hells, she’s making so many needy noises and he’s barely touched her yet. She nods hurriedly, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning up to suck a bruise onto his neck, and fuck he loves when she marks him. He moans and tips his head to give her better access, and he feels Tav smile against his skin as she nibbles at him. 

He slips a hand under her skirt and moans at the realisation that she’s not wearing underclothes either. 

“Hells, Tav, you’re so needy for it. You sat there like this the whole time we ate, desperate for me, hm?”

“ Yes , Zev, Gods . Need you.” Her voice is breathy.

He wants to be teasing, wants to wind her up the way she does to him, but he’s not strong enough. Hearing her beg for him has his face full of heat and has his head swimming. “Can I taste you, love?”

She starts to give her assent, but he’s dropping to his knees before she even finishes getting the words out, lifting her skirt and burying his face in her core. The scent of her drives him wild, and the taste of her musk on his tongue as he drags it through her slick has him moaning into her. Her hands lace into his hair as he sucks her clit between his lips, teasing and tasting her until she’s writhing and keening and cumming into his mouth. 

She drags him back up, kisses him deeply, and the feeling of her tongue massaging against his is so erotic that he can't help grinding against her again. He can feel the wet heat of her cunt leaving a damp patch on the front of his trousers and he knows he can't wait any longer to have her. 

He manages to pry himself away and strips unceremoniously, letting himself languish for a moment in the heated way she stares at his body. The scars and infernal ridges littering his body have always, to him, been unattractive, but she looks at him every time like she can't bear to look away. No one has ever looked at him the way Tav does, and it lights his whole being on fire. 

There's no more conversation needed. He lays himself over her, folds her legs up towards her chest and sinks deep into her heat, and she throws her head back and whines as he fills her. With her legs pushed up like this he can fill her entirely, and the way she clenches around him has him gritting his teeth and grinding deeper into her body. 

“I’ll keep you here all night, if that's what you want, love. Fill you til you’re certain you’ll burst. Can't wait to see you full with my child.”

She tries to reply, but he chooses that moment to fill her with a deep thrust from tip to root, and her eyes roll back into her head as she frees a leg from his grip, digging a heel into his rear and pulling him deeper. With every thrust of his hips she keens, louder and louder until her cries reach a crescendo, and then she’s sobbing her way through her second orgasm and clenching her walls around his cock. 

The wet, tight squeeze of her cunt means it doesn't take long for him to reach his own end, spilling himself inside her just like she asked, kissing her lovingly through it. Every twitch of his cock makes her sigh and clench him harder, milking him of every drop of his cum until he’s laying boneless over her. 

Their heavy breaths mingle together as they share deep, meaningful kisses. When he tries to remove himself from her, she wraps her legs around him and shakes her head. 

“You said you’d keep me here all night. I hope you intend to keep that promise. I want… I want you to stay inside. I want to feel you get hard, and then I want you to fuck me full again.”

And hells, her words have his spent cock twitching valiantly, aching to take her again despite it being too soon, so he tells her yes as he leans in to kiss her again. 

[en-vys]

Baby Nanami being a Daddy’s girl and won’t let anyone else hold her except him

When he leaves for work she literally cries until she can’t and momma has to put Nanami on facetime so she’ll be happy

girl dad nanami.

5:13 AM - an hour after birth

"I'M A FATHER now." nanami sighs, looking down at his daughter in content, "nanami my turn." gojo sighs impatiently tapping his shoe on the ground repetitively. geto being by your side, caressing your hand smiling.

"congrats on your successful birth. we are blessed to have you at our hands again." he squeezes your hand, you clear your throat before responding. "thanks geto, but it's not like I died and came back to life." he tilts his head to the side, questioning the matter.

"c'mon nanami! quit bein' selfish! we know its your kid but we wanna see the girl!" shoko starts stomping on the floor, gojo following in suit.

9:20 PM - 5 years after birth.

"baby please go to sleep.." you groan, trying to soothe your 5 year old daughter. as she starts sobbing into nanami's dress shirt, "daddy!! ! want my daddy!!!"

you shake your head, "daddy's at work hun.. busy doing whatever to curses." "i-is he safe mama?" your daughter whimpers, snuggling into you. "yes he is baby, hes a very strong daddy." "okay.".

you smile snapping a picture of your daughter in namami's dress shirt, being way too big for her, sitting in front of the garage door awaiting her fathers return.

silly woman. 🩵

ATTACHMENT 1...

your baby misses you nana..

silly man. 🤎

i'm not busy, i could call right now if

you’d like to do so 😄

INCOMING CALL... SILLY MAN.

you get your daughters attention, dabbing her face dry with a soft cloth. "baby your daddy wanted to facetime you!" her face automatically lights up, stumbling a little but still running towards her mother.

"daddy?" your now smiling daughter, grasps onto the phone. "hi princess, how have you been? you better have not been giving your mother a hard time. thats not something i would've wanted."

your daughter starts frowning, "I haven't! you can ask mommy!" she pleads, looking at you sympathetically. "shes been behaving, shes been a very good girl." patting her head.

she smiles, and darts off. phone in hand as shes talking to nanami, telling him about her day. you can hear her from downstairs running around and giggling about.

she was asleep in her room, with nanami doing his paperwork. you decided not to disturb her, as you've been dying to have peace and quiet since your husband had left for work.

you smile in content, as you make your way downstairs to go make some dinner for when your daughter wakes up.

sorry for taking so long!

@en-vys : this is my ONLY account other accounts with the same name are NOT me, do not repost on any other platform, translate, or steal in anyway. - 2024

[paintedpeeta]

now, many of us, have at length discussed Peeta “born to be a little shit, forced to be a prisoner of war” Mellark coming into his own after the war, and I would like to hear your take on it but ALSO have we been sleeping on “two can play at the game” Katniss being just as immature when Peeta is pulling his stupid boy behavior? … basically, your headcanons upon the topic “Let Katniss and Peeta Be Normal Teenagers 2024”

this instantly made me think of the part in catching fire where katniss and finnick smear their faces in ointment just to spook peeta… like, if she’s able to be a little silly in the middle of a death match then she definitely goofs off when they’re safe and living a soft life together.

I think katniss’ sense of humour is often overlooked (which is fair enough because there’s a lot going on) but that girl was roasting career tributes names and giving us bangers such as “I suppose the apples ate the cheese” like 💀

but anyway, I agree that she definitely gives as good as she gets. peeta plays on her weaknesses by teasing her and being crude because he knows it makes her flustered, but katniss knows exactly how to deal with him too (think back to the ointment thing, where she uses a soft sing-song voice to call his name and wake him up). she’ll have him on the ropes, distracting him in the kitchen by acting all flirtatious and letting him think he’s about to get some and then THWACK. face full of whipped cream.

also I personally headcanon that peeta is a very neat and orderly person (to a certain extent… the room he uses as a studio for his painting is a wreck at all times) and he’s very specific about the way things should be done. purely in the name of being a pain in the ass, katniss will wrongly pair up socks when its her turn doing the laundry and leave her boots where she kicks them off at the door rather than lining them up the way he does.

just general cat behavior as well. she’ll plop herself down on his lap, to hell with the fact he’s reading the newspaper. yeah she’ll come padding into the room to bug him while he paints and yeah she will knock things off of the desk.

not exactly catlike, but a couple of times she tries to switch around his mug of tea and his mug of paint water. it fails every time because, y’know, he has a nose and all but hey. a girl can dream.

plus a plethora of other things she does just for the love of the game. the game of being a pest, that is. she’ll flick water and suds at him while they wash the dishes together, or shut the hot water off for just a second while he’s in the shower, or bite his finger when he tries to let her taste a new recipe.

when they’re not ribbing each other, they’re teaming up to terrorise poor haymitch. he’s so done with them but he would also never admit how much he likes seeing them so happy and actually getting to act young, even if it does mean being rudely awakened on weekends by the sound of laughter coming from their open windows as peeta crashes around after her because she slipped an ice cube down his shirt and then dashed.

[ruciel]

For the request can I please have Yandere Topaz, Himeko, Robin, and Jade comforting reader who has nightmare

yandere topaz is somewhat of a heavy sleeper, she works long hours, and rests for very few. but her fifth senses wake her, red alarm bells going off, her first instinct is to feel around for you in the bed. thankfully, you’re still there. but you’re quivering like a leaf. topaz feels around for you, but you don’t respond, completely still and completely silent. what’s wrong? are you okay? you’re hesitant to respond, only quietly murmuring that you had a nightmare. you come off as unbothered but topaz is unconvinced. she wraps her arms around your shoulders and pulls you in for a tight hug, patting your head gently. she’s worried for you, but doesn’t wish to pressure you into saying anything, only offering words of reassurance, i’m here to listen if you’d like. if you don’t say anything that’s fine, she’s holding you too tight to leave her grasp anyway. but if you do tell her, even if it’s just a little about the horrible dream, topaz will be happy you opened up to her. she doesn’t want to be overbearing, nor does she want to overwhelm you. it seems her pets have also sensed your distress, as you feel more and more weight get added to the already over-cushioned bed. they cuddle you, similarly like how they do with topaz, and you can’t help but reach out to feel their fur and pet them. it distracts you. you’re surprised topaz hadn’t pressed further, but realistically, you know she’s very self-aware of when to stop prying and being invasive. her presence alone is very comforting, and it even brings a smile to your face when you feel her hand find yours and give it a small squeeze.

yandere himeko stays up far later than you do. she likes to take time to unwind and relax in the evening. what better way to do that than settle in bed and read while you sleep beside her? himeko’s dim lamplight is on, and she skims the novel in her right hand as she lazily runs her hands through your hair with her left hand. a faint, almost soundless, noise comes from you. she thinks nothing of it until it happens again, this time, you twitch. her eyes drift to your figure, setting her book down, not caring if she loses her place as you stir even more. himeko places a tender hand on your shoulder, shaking you. she frowns after seeing tears already beginning to form in your closed eyes, this time, she calls your name. slowly, you wake up, eyes bleary as you avert your eyes from the light coming from the bedside table. you open your mouth to say something, but she softly shushes you, shh, it’s alright dear. she wipes your tears away, holding the side of your face, all the while she assures you that it was just a dream. that no one, and nothing, will ever come to harm you— that she will make sure of. himeko places a chaste kiss on the top of your forehead. you’re still shaken up, and she offers to brew you a cup of coffee. it will keep you up for awhile, but it may take your mind off things for now… if you agree, she’ll invite you into the kitchenette of the express. himeko will tell you all about the book she’s been reading over a nice cup of coffee. if you disagree, she’ll lay in bed with you for little longer. himeko will let you cry in her arms if you need to, patient as ever, you’ll likely open up to her about the nightmare, and she’ll soothe your nerves while she kisses you more.

yandere robin is very careful with you when you sleep. she spends quite a bit of time outside of the dreamscape, but you do not because you are safe and often enjoy passing time there while waiting for robin to return to penacony. for whatever reason, you seem to always have nightmares after leaving the dreamscape. she’s made her bed especially tailored to your liking, the mattress is the right amount of firm while also being comfortable. it has as many pillows as you want, varying in size, and made with your wants in mind. and the sheets and blankets are a colour chosen by none other than yourself, there are enough he to keep you happy, but not too much that they’re too heavy on you when you sleep. but robin still frets over you when you’re laying down in her bed, trying to get some sleep, and tonight is no different. as she gets into her night attire, she can’t help but noticing you squirm around under the blankets. hurriedly, yet quietly, she makes her way to the side of the bed, sitting down and leaning over your unconscious figure. robin doesn’t want to disturb you, she doesn’t like waking you up because she knows how important rest is. so she sings, chanting a sweet lullaby that she remembers fondly from her childhood. the hymn reaches you, even in your deep sleep. robin observes as your once uncomfortable expression turns calm. she wonders what you’re dreaming of now. what you see when she sings to you in your sleep. robin’s tune fades into quiet humming, and she manoeuvres under the covers to join you. she never does stop singing to you, even if it’s only a mere whisper now. robin won’t bother you about it in the morning, unless you bring it up. even if you do not know it, she still wishes to protect you in your sleep.

yandere jade recognises the sounds of your silent cries and whimpers from anywhere. even if she’s in a deep slumber, jade simply knows when you are so much as slightly unhappy. lifting the sleeping mask off of her eyes, she tilts her head and gets a good look at you. you’re shaken up, she can tell that much in her groggy state. although you don’t make your anxieties known, you’re curled up into yourself, pulled away from her with a distant look on your face. her voice startles you when she suddenly speaks up, you had thought she was still asleep, what’s wrong darling? bad dream? hesitantly nodding, she whispers a few apologies as she leans over to you and pulls you closer to her. you allow her to do as she pleases, sitting upright as she positions you to lean back against her. i have you, you’re okay. focus on your breathing. you do, calming yourself and trying to steady your breaths. what you remember from the nightmare repeats endlessly in your mind, and jade can still sense your discomfort. she asks if you want or need anything, maybe some water? it wouldn’t hurt, and though she’s displeased to be away from you, even for such a short while, jade fetches a glass of water for you, and even some snacks. by now, the two of you are well awake. you’re sorry to have woken her, but jade dismisses it. if you’re ever struggling with anything she wants you to come to her. eventually you tell her about the nightmare, she listens intently and occasionally holds your hand or rubs your arm. by the time you’re finished, you’re fatigued and become drowsy, but still apprehensive about falling back asleep. jade assures you that you will be okay, saying she’ll go back to sleep with you. but she lies, she doesn’t. jade waits for you to fall back asleep, she’s not tired anymore, and will make sure you aren’t plagued by any terrible dreams this time.

[elsfairy]

❍     ݁    moon    ☆       ۪       𓈀

the faint, but personal memories of you stay woven into the polaroids she keeps under her pillow to remind her that you’re not gone, just searching. to keep her feet grounded on the cold, rubble floor when the loss and pain is too much for her to handle. your perfect laugh engraved and burned in her brain when those small, imperfect, perfections seep through her mind just to feel close to you again. the longing to feel your fingers brush up against hers like it was the first time you met her, head buried in yet another novel she could never see herself putting down, no matter how much you teased or bothered her to take a break, to feel that just one more them. to feel your soft skin in hers. she didn’t want much or did she ask for much, just to see you, smiling at her wild morning hair, the taste of coffee on her lips when you’d give her dozens of soft pecks just to wake her up, and the sound of your soft, honey-laced voice was all she needed— wanted.

She regrets a lot in life. The main thing would be you. Not because she fell in love with the way you smiled at her, the way you held her and said “it’ll be okay, just focus on breathing” in that soft voice of yours or even the way you pouted when she refused to do something you asked but ended up doing anyway because she loved you. It was how she regrets that she was too dazed, too frozen to be able to save you from a place you needed saving from. She was too late to, too late to protect the only thing that kept her . . sane. Abby couldn’t save you.

You would seep your way into her dreams, dreams that were once happy because of you, those turned to nightmares the more she tried to get through the ache of losing you. It was the same old thing, you’d appear, still smiling, still loving her, still trying to help her. Why? She couldn’t protect you, so why are you trying to keep her safe in a world that’s so cruel that it ended up taking you from her? 

The words you would always whisper each time you would show up in her dark, dazed nightmares was the only think that kept her strong, that kept her wanting to keep fighting until she couldn’t

“every star belongs somewhere Abby. each star has a home and a place of warmth. you’re my star, and you belong with me. wherever you go, ill be there, waiting for you. when it’s time, my arms will be open and you’ll be home”

and when the time comes, and when it’s right, she’ll know. she’ll know to look out the window, across the morning rising sun, under the trees that whistled, and over the hills that keep her from you. she’ll know you’re over there, waiting for her. 

It wasn’t her time, not yet. but one day, she’ll be in your arms, holding you and never letting go. like she should have done from the very beginning.

“Miss you, little moon”

[archangeldyke-all]

could you possibly write something abt sevika’s gf falling asleep on her for the first time?? towards the more early stages of their relationship sevika is still lowkey insecure and unsure of how to be a good partner for her gf bc with her job she knows the harm and violence her hands are capable of.

so the first time sevs gf falls asleep on her she’s rlly tense at first bc she can’t believe she feels that comfortable with her and trusts her that much 😭, but eventually she’ll relax and wrap her arms around her

aweee my sweet baby sev

men and minors dni

you trust sevika with your life, how could you not? she's the most powerful woman in zaun, and you've got her wrapped around your finger. you never feel as safe as you do when she's got her arm wrapped around you or her hand tucked in your back pocket.

so it's only natural that one late night, as you're curled up against sevika's side watching her play cards, you slowly start to drift off against her with your head against her shoulder and your nose breathing in her scent.

at first sevika thinks you're just resting your head. but when she asks you a question and doesn't get a response, she looks over at you and her heart stops when she sees you're fast asleep against her.

sevika loses all sense of where she is. one of her opponents calls out for her, tells her that it's her turn, but she doesn't hear them. she's just locked in on you're sleeping face, her throat getting tight, her vision getting watery.

when someone yells to get her attention and you twitch, she snaps her head up to glare at them.

"all of you fuck off." she growls out. the men don't question her, quickly scattering away from the table at the murderous look in her eyes. when they're gone, sevika returns to studying you.

how could you be sleeping?

sure, it's late at night, and you've been sipping on a steady stream of whiskey, but it's the last drop, it's zaun, for fuck's sake, it's her!

don't you know how dangerous she is? don't you know how many people she's killed? and you're just letting your guard completely down against her?

she's a little angry for a second, wondering what the fuck is wrong with you, wanting to shake you awake and give you a lecture on safety and awareness.

but then your brow furrows and you shift in your sleep, letting out a puff of breath against her skin and nuzzling against her, and she melts.

gently, slowly, she reaches up to wrap an arm around you, adjusting you so you're in a more comfortable position, settling against you, pressing a kiss to your head. she watches in shock and admiration as you smile in your sleep and mumble out a happy little 'sev' against her.

years later, looking back on it, sevika can pinpoint that moment as the moment she fell in love with you.

it was then that she realized that you saw her. you saw sevika, not just the woman that keeps the lanes in check, not just silco's number 2, but sevika. the person beneath it all.

you love her and her violent tendancies just as much as you love her strange cravings for pickled vegetables in the middle of the night. you know she's just as soft as she is strong, but only when she's around people she can trust. you hold her mech hand the same way you hold her flesh one, with love and care and reverence, completely uncaring of the fact that it houses a blade and has killed many before.

when you wake up hours later, it's to an empty bar and sevika still staring down at you. you blink up at her.

"'m sorry, didn't mean to fall asleep, 'y just make me feel so safe 'n cozy." you mumble against her as you rub the sleep from you eyes.

sevika's gets choked up, and with her words unavailable, she shows you her love in a different way, swooping down to kiss you until you're flat against the booth and she's laying on top of you.

when she pulls away from a breath, you're grinning.

"woah. that's a hell of a way to wake up." you giggle. sevika grins.

"i think you're the cutest fucking thing i've ever seen." she whispers. "i'd do anything for you, y'know." she says. you smile and give her nose a quick smooch.

"i know." you say with a smile. "i feel the same."

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