#but besides that he was the one taking care of her meals and bedtime and bathroom training and comfort and lessons

[vaugarde]

atlas and quinn's relationship is hard to really put on a family tree but yknow how mlp cant decide if twilight is spike's mom or big sister sometimes and depending on the specific conflict she can be one or the other? just imagine that

[yourmomsawh0r3]

ill

anthony bridgerton x wife fem reader

Anthony Bridgerton prided himself on being a man of honor, a man who upheld the duties of a husband with unwavering dedication. Since the day he and Y/N had pledged their lives to each other, his commitment had never wavered. However, it was only during these most trying times, when Y/N was unwell, that the depths of his devotion truly came to light.

The morning had dawned grey and dreary, mirroring Y/N's increasingly pallid complexion. She had awoken with a heaviness in her chest, a fever clouding her usually bright eyes. Anthony, ever perceptive, had immediately sensed that something was amiss. By midday, it was clear she had fallen ill with the flu.

From that moment, Anthony had taken it upon himself to nurse her back to health. He insisted on doing everything himself, waving off the maids and servants with a determined hand. His wife was his responsibility, and he would see to her care personally. He stayed by her side, offering comfort and support. When she was sick, he held back her hair and rubbed soothing circles on her back. When the chills wracked her body, he fetched warm blankets and held her close, whispering words of encouragement and love.

Anthony found himself taking on a role he had seldom played to this extent: that of the primary caregiver for their twin children, Emma and Edward. With Y/N needing all the rest she could get, Anthony was determined to manage both his duties as a viscount and his responsibilities as a father

One evening, after a day filled with overseeing estate matters and ensuring Y/N had everything she needed, Anthony turned his attention to the children. It was time for dinner, and he decided to handle it himself, much to the surprise of the household staff.

In the kitchen, Emma and Edward sat at the large wooden table, their eyes wide with curiosity as their father attempted to prepare a simple meal. Anthony’s culinary skills were still rudimentary, but he managed to prepare a meal of roast chicken, potatoes, and steamed vegetables. The children watched him with amusement, occasionally offering unsolicited advice.

“Papa, you’re supposed to stir the gravy,” Emma pointed out with a giggle.

“And don’t forget to taste it,” Edward added helpfully.

Anthony chuckled, taking their advice in stride. “Thank you, my little chefs. I’ll make sure to do just that.”

Once the meal was ready, they sat down together and enjoyed their dinner. Despite a few mishaps like slightly overcooked potatoes and a gravy that was a bit too thick the children ate heartily, delighted by their father’s efforts. Anthony found himself smiling more than he had in days, his heart lightened by their laughter and the joy in their eyes.

After dinner, it was time for baths. Anthony led the twins upstairs, running a warm bath in the large clawfoot tub. He carefully bathed each of them, laughing as they splashed and played in the water.

“Papa, make the boat go faster!” Edward exclaimed, pointing to the little wooden toy floating in the tub.

“Alright, but only if you promise to keep the water in the tub,” Anthony replied with a mock stern look.

After the bath, he wrapped them in fluffy towels and helped them into their nightclothes. The bedtime routine was a cherished ritual, one that Y/N usually took part in. Tonight, Anthony was determined to make it just as special. He read them a story, his deep voice bringing the characters to life. Emma and Edward listened intently, their eyes growing heavy with sleep.

When the story ended, Anthony tucked them into their beds, kissing each of them on the forehead. “Goodnight, my loves,” he whispered. “Sleep well.”

“Goodnight, Papa,” they murmured in unison, their voices drowsy.

As he left their room and gently closed the door, Anthony felt a profound sense of satisfaction. Despite the challenges, he had managed to care for his children and his wife. Returning to Y/N’s side, he found her already asleep, her breathing steady and peaceful. He sat beside her, watching over her as she slept, feeling an overwhelming sense of love and responsibility.

Anthony knew that this period of illness and extra duties was temporary. But he also knew that the bonds he was strengthening with his children and the unwavering support he was providing to his wife would have lasting effects. He was more than just a viscount; he was a father and a husband, roles he cherished above all else.

The next morning Y/N had scarcely managed to keep any food down, Anthony decided to draw her a warm bath. As she soaked in the tub, her skin flushed from the heat and the fever, he asked softly, "My love, are you hungry? Is there anything you might be able to eat?"

Y/N, feeling a bit better in the comfort of the warm water, nodded. "Yes, actually. Some chicken noodle soup sounds wonderful."

Anthony's heart swelled with determination. "I'll make you some," he promised, his voice gentle but firm.

Leaving Y/N to relax, he descended to the kitchen. Anthony was a man of many talents, but cooking was not one of them. Still, for his beloved wife, he was willing to try anything. He rummaged through the pantry and the icebox, trying to recall the recipes his mother had taught him in his youth. He found some chicken, carrots, celery, and noodles, setting them all on the counter. With sleeves rolled up and a furrowed brow, he began his culinary endeavor.

As he chopped vegetables and attempted to cook the chicken, Y/N, feeling somewhat better after her bath, decided to venture downstairs. Dressed in her nightgown, she moved quietly, drawn by the sounds of her husband clattering about in the kitchen. Peeking around the corner, she couldn't help but stifle a laugh at the sight before her: Anthony Bridgerton, Viscount, and head of the Bridgerton family, struggling to decipher a recipe.

Her soft laughter reached Anthony's ears, and he turned, a look of surprise and concern on his face. "My love, what are you doing out of bed? You should be resting."

Y/N smiled, stepping into the kitchen. "I couldn't stay away. I had to see what my wonderful husband was up to."

Anthony sighed, a mixture of exasperation and affection. "I was trying to make you some soup," he admitted, gesturing to the array of ingredients and half-prepared food. "But I'm afraid I'm not quite as skilled as the cook."

Y/N walked over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and leaning into his chest. "It's perfect," she murmured. "The fact that you're doing this for me means more than you could ever know."

Anthony kissed the top of her head, his heart swelling with love. "Anything for you, my dear. Now, let's get you back to bed, and I'll bring the soup up once it's ready."

With Y/N safely back in bed, Anthony returned to the kitchen with renewed determination. He worked meticulously, and after some time, he finally produced a pot of homemade chicken noodle soup. Carrying a tray carefully, he made his way back to their bedroom.

Y/N was propped up against the pillows, looking exhausted but content. Anthony set the tray down on the bedside table and gently ladled some soup into a bowl. He brought the bowl to her, spooning a bit of the fragrant broth to her lips.

Y/N took a tentative sip, then smiled up at him. "It's delicious," she whispered. "Thank you, dear”

He smiled back, relief and love evident in his eyes. "Anything for you, my love. Anything at all."

In the days following Y/N’s initial illness, their twin children, Emma and Edward, had been kept at a respectful distance, watched over by their governess and the ever-watchful staff. Anthony, concerned for their health and their mother's, had made it clear that the children were not to disturb Y/N until she was well enough.

However, as the days stretched on, Emma and Edward’s longing for their mother grew more intense. One sunny afternoon, the twins approached their father with wide, pleading eyes.

“Papa, can we see Mama?” Emma asked, her voice small and hopeful.

“Please, Papa,” Edward echoed, tugging at Anthony’s sleeve. “We miss her.”

Anthony knelt down to their level, his heart aching at the sight of their earnest faces. “Your mother is still very sick,” he said gently. “She needs to rest so she can get better.”

“But we can be quiet,” Emma promised. “We just want to see her.”

Y/N, overhearing the conversation from her room, felt a surge of love and longing for her children. Gathering what strength she had, she called out softly, “Anthony, please. Let them come in.”

Anthony turned to see his wife sitting up in bed, her eyes tired but full of determination. He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “All right. But you must be very gentle and very quiet, do you understand?”

The twins nodded eagerly, and Anthony led them to the bed where Y/N waited with open arms. Emma and Edward climbed up carefully, nestling into the crook of her arms. Y/N hugged them tightly, her eyes closing as she breathed in the comforting scent of her children.

“I’ve missed you both so much,” she whispered, kissing the tops of their heads.

“We missed you too, Mama,” Edward said, his voice muffled against her nightgown.

Anthony watched the scene, his heart swelling with a mix of emotions. He climbed into the bed as well, wrapping his arms around his family. They all cuddled together, the warmth of their closeness driving away the chill of Y/N’s illness.

The day was spent in a cocoon of love and comfort. They read stories, played quiet games, and simply enjoyed being in each other’s presence. The twins were careful to be gentle, their usual energy subdued by the understanding that their mother needed to rest.

As the afternoon turned into evening, Y/N’s strength began to wane, but the happiness of having her family close gave her a renewed sense of hope and determination. She looked up at Anthony, her eyes filled with gratitude.

“Thank you, my love,” she said softly. “I needed this.”

Anthony kissed her forehead, his voice tender. “Anything for you, my dear. And for our children.”

As they sat together in the fading light of the day, Y/N turned to Anthony, her eyes shining with gratitude. “You are my rock, Anthony. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

Anthony took her hand in his, bringing it to his lips. "And you are my heart, Y/N. As long as you need me, I will always be here, by your side."

like and comment pookiesssss🫶🏼

[autisticlancemcclain]

Lance was very… particular about things, Keith noticed. And it wasn’t just him, obviously. Their whole team was pretty particular. Hunk, for example, had to have all his tools organized and straightened before he could work on something. If they weren’t, he’d stop whatever he was doing to straighten them out again. Keith had taken to polishing his knife (and other small tasks like that) in Hunk’s workshop, so he could straighten the man’s tools for him, and then he wouldn’t have to start over. (As an added bonus Hunk had all the drama — Keith would rather make friends with the business end of Pidge’s bayard than admit it, but he enjoyed listening to the gossip now and then.) Allura was very particular, too. Her holoscreens and data files for the Coalition were so meticulously organized and colour-coded that they were beautiful even to Keith, who didn’t much care for folder organization.

All of them had their quirks, their strange hills to die on. But Lance? Lance had a particular way of doing everything, it seemed. Which made sense, given who he was as a person — aka someone who could, in one word, be described as ‘extra’. (And, yeah, Keith is well aware that he’s telling on himself by having noticed all Lance’s quirks at all. He knows damn well that the only reason he knows that Lance is — and he’s saying this with all the fondness in his heart — a weirdo, is because he watches Lance, all the time, and does everything he can to be around him. He knows. He’s had his embarrassing realization. He’s accepted the L. He likes watching Lance, because he likes Lance. A lot. It’s whatever.)

One specific thing that Keith noticed is that Lance plans out who he’s going to sit next to at dinner in advance. There’s no real real rhyme or reason to it — Keith spent a while trying to figure out a pattern, but gave up after about a week of complete randomness. He seems to sit next to whomever he pleases, for very specific reasons that only he knows.

Hold on, now, you might be saying. It really sounds like you’re just reading into it, and Lance just sits at random places every day.

And, yeah. That would be a fair assumption.

If it weren’t for one small thing.

See, no matter what time Lance arrives in the dining room, he’s the last to sit down. Always. Even if he’s the first there, even if he’s the one to cook. He’s somehow the last one to sit down. He waits for everyone else to sit, looks at the table for a moment, visibly makes a decision, and then sits beside whomever he’s chosen. It’s because of this that Keith’s sure he’s right. (Again. Keith knows it’s a stupid thing to put so much effort into observing, but he can’t very well turn it off. His brain focuses on things it finds interesting. It follows the dopamine. And, as humiliating as it is, Keith’s brain has decided Lance is a great source of said chemical.)

There is some pattern, Keith supposes. If Lance knows someone has had a rough day, or looks tense, or hasn’t been taking care of themselves, he sits next to them. He does it when Allura is particularly homesick, so he can subtly steer the conversation into happy memories of Altea to cheer her up. He does it when Shiro is tense and shaking from a day of bad memories, so he can joke and tease until Shiro is laughing so hard he sprays milk through his nose. He does it when Coran is weary and exhausted, making sure everything Coran needs is in reach so the advisor feels a little less drained at the end of the meal. He does it when Pidge hasn’t done anything but code for several days, quietly scooping extra portions on her plate and nagging her into an early bedtime. He does it when Hunk is fidgeting anxiously and shivering, keeping a constant hand on Hunk’s person and telling wild stories from home until Hunk’s smiling again.

He does it for Keith, too, although it took him a while to realise. Whenever Keith is snappy and irritable or blank and sad, Lance will invent some stupid game where he’s ‘definitely better at than you, Mullet, so eat that!’ until Keith has perked right up and started arguing right back and playing along with so much intensity that he forgets why he was so upset in the first place.

Yeah. It’s definitely one of the many reasons why Keith likes him so much. He’s always had a soft spot for the kind ones.

Most of the time, though, everyone’s feeling pretty good. There’s no one who needs Lance’s strength or wit or humour to go to bed with a weight lifted off their shoulders. No one Lance needs to care for.

On these days, Lance sits with whomever he carefully chooses. (Keith is pleased to note that, on a good chunk of these occasions, Lance sits with him, but that’s neither here nor there.)

Today, Lance is sitting with Hunk, who’s deep in conversation with Shiro. To entertain himself, he’s taken to playing out some dorky drama, using his utensils as action figures and silently mouthing out dialogue. (Keith wants to repeatedly bang his head on a wall, because holy shit, that’s such a dweeb thing to do and it shouldn’t be endearing but it is and Keith wants to kiss his stupid face so badly.)

Suddenly Coran sneezes across the table, one of those great big dad sneezes, and Lance startles, his fork going flying.

“Aw, man,” he mutters, immediately bending down to grab it.

Without breaking away from his conversation, Hunk reaches over and covers the corner of the table with his hand, so when Lance shoots back up, he only brushes Hunk’s fingers instead of braining himself on the hard edge or the table.

Keith blinks. As soon as Lance is upright, Hunk pulls his hand back, and Lance goes back to playing with his utensils like he never dropped one in the first place.

Hunk looks completely unchanged. Lance doesn’t offer thanks, or even acknowledge what Hunk did in the first place.

Neither of them noticed the reaction. At all.

Keith hides a smile in his hand. It figures that Lance is so clumsy that Hunk has security measures in place for something as harmless as eating dinner, and even more so that Hunk has to do them so often that he doesn’t even notice he’s doing it. It figures that Lance spends so much time watching other people and anticipating their needs that he’s completely oblivious to any of his own.

“What’s funny?” Pidge asks, squinting at him.

Keith shrugs, but the smile stays firmly on his face. “Nothing.”

Pidge squints harder. “There’s definitely something. You look all… squishy.”

“It’s nothing,” Keith insists, but can’t quite stop himself from flicking his gaze towards Lance.

It does not escape Pidge’s notice, unfortunately.

“Oh, I see,” she says with a smirk.

Keith rolls his eyes, ignoring the flush on his cheeks. “Whatever. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, nothing, nothing. Just embarrassed on your behalf. Personally, I can get through a meal without making painfully obvious heart-eyes at my super embarrassing middle school crush, but to each their own.”

“It’s not a middle school crush,” Keith says, elbowing her in the side. “It’s — whatever. He’s just kind of cute. That’s all. I can just — I’m just saying, objectively.”

“Uh-huh. Sure. Loser.”

At the very sound of ‘Keith’ and ‘loser’ being spoken in the same sentence, Lance perks up. “Why’s Keith a loser? Besides all the regular reasons.”

Keith cuts a slightly panicked look to Pidge. He swears to god, if she even implies to Lance that Keith maybe kind of admitted he finds the blue paladin a little tiny bit cute in, perhaps, certain lighting —

“He drinks all of his water before touching his food,” Pidge says instead, and Keith lets out a sigh of relief before registering what she said.

“Hey, that doesn’t make me a loser,” he argues.

“It kind of does,” Allura interjects gently. “Sorry.”

Lance laughs, and Keith is so caught up in the sound that he forgets to defend himself.

He scowls at Pidge’s widening smirk.

Whatever. It’s — it’s just a crush. A measly, tiny, itty-bitty crush. Keith’s sure he’ll get over it soon.

He risks a quick glance over to the crush in question, who has abandoned his utensil telenovela in favour of enthusiastically explaining the intricacies of Terran marine biodiversity to the Alteans. His smile is so wide it crinkles his eyes, almost completely hiding the warm brown irises.

Keith huffs, shaking his head at his own audacity. Get over Lance? Who’s he kidding?

[storiesdo]

Jonathan helped her into the dress, and she twirled around, giving him a peek upskirt. He nodded. “You look stunning,” he said.

“Thank you.” He led her hand in hand downstairs. “Are you hungry yet?” He asked. “I could go for some food right about now.” Her stomach grumbled in sympathy. She hadn’t eaten since early that morning.

“Sure,” Eliza said.

“I was thinking steak and pepper sauce,” said John. “It’s a little early for such a heavy meal, so maybe we should stretch it an hour, but I haven’t eaten since breakfast, so I’d like to eat soon. You know, I would take you to a nice restaurant, but we agreed not to go out in public.”

Eliza nodded. “Maybe some other time.” Seeding another appointment, she thought. It was somewhat cynical of her, but she felt it was entirely natural. She was only being honest. “You’re welcome to take me out, but we’d have to suspend the roleplay. But I don’t mind a nice home-cooked meal.”

Jonathan smiled. “I’m an excellent cook.”

“Maybe we could just cuddle and watch some TV to kill time,” Eliza suggested. “I love it when you stroke my hair.”

Jonathan seated himself on the coach and switched on some mindless reality show. The kind where there is no real goal, except for the contestants to back-stab each other as much as possible—when they’re not having sex, and solemnly swearing they never imagined they would be doing it on television, it just happened, because he or she’s the one. Eliza curled up beside him, and he obediently began stroking her hair. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine that he was her boyfriend, a trick she used whenever a client wanted romance rather than straight sex. It wasn’t hard to see this kind, caring and wealthy bachelor as a partner in another life. Eliza had a strict policy of separating business and pleasure—it wasn’t like she were actually falling for him. But with closed eyes, she could pretend. When she lay still, she hardly even noticed the difference in her underwear, but whenever she moved, the padding pushed into her and reminded her of what a little girl she was supposed to be.

Before she knew it, she was dreaming. The imagery faded as soon as Jonathan nudged her awake, but it had been a pleasant dream. “Hey, I didn’t say you could nap,” John said.

Eliza rubbed her eyes. “Sorry. I guess I didn’t sleep much last night. I’ll be a good girl and go to sleep for bedtime, that’s a promise.”

“I think it’s time for dinner,” John said. “Would you like to continue coloring for me, or would you like to help me cook?”

She told him she wanted to cook. Eliza had had enough coloring for one day. She needed some kind of stimulation. Pleasant though it was, life as a little girl was rather boring. One downside of her more romantic appointments was that they didn’t provide the same level of excitement as a sexual session. Her clients rarely knew how to inject excitement into a date. But as soon as she’d finished that train of thought, John was over her, pinning her down on the coach, and then he was tickling her. “Eeee!” She squeaked. It was unexpected, but she didn’t protest. She tried to contort her body so he couldn’t get to her most ticklish spots, but he was devious. One fake maneuver toward her armpits, and then he was lifting up the front of her dress, and for a moment she thought he was going to stick a hand down her diaper—but then he was blowing raspberries on her stomach, and Eliza couldn’t help but laugh. When she did, she let down her defenses up top, and he started on her armpits, the most ticklish spot on her body.

“Aaaah!” She said, laughing all the while. “Stop! Stop! I’m gonna pee!” She struggled to close her legs, but then he was tickling her under her feet, and she had to open them, and almost kicked him in the nose, barely missing his glasses. “I mean it! I’m ahhhahaaa—I’m gonna pee myself!”

He let up. “Let’s get you to the bathroom before it’s too late, then,” he said.

Eliza was red-faced and panting, exhausted from the assault of tickles. Her breath was heavy, and her chest was hurting from all the laughing, but her smile was genuine. None of her clients ever got into tickle fights with her. Hell, it was even a little bit hot. She’d experimented with forced orgasms using a vibrator and a willing, non-paid partner, and tickling was similarly painful and pleasant at the same time. But she didn’t want to pee herself. Eliza wanted to prove to John that she could last until seven. A little silly, she realized. She was an adult and had never peed her pants by accident, not since she was a toddler. Big Eliza, the sex worker, had nothing to prove. But Little Eliza certainly did, after her embarrassing accident earlier.

“I don’t really need to go,” she managed, after she regained her breath. “It’s just when you tickle me, I can’t control it.”

“Well, let’s try anyway. I can’t leave the kitchen once the plates are hot and things are cooking to take you to the bathroom, now can I? Here is a potty training lesson. When you know you won’t be able to go to the potty for a while, it’s smart to go before, just in case.” He offered a hand and led her upstairs. She followed, a light rustling of her underwear probably only audible to herself.

“Okay, down she goes,” John said, lowering her pull-up, “and up she goes!” Eliza allowed herself to be hoisted up on the toilet. “See if you can make a little tinkle for me.”

She tried, but nothing came out. Eliza wasn’t normally pee shy, but something about the situation made her clam up. “I can’t,” she said.

“Maybe if I turn on the tap?” John offered. Eliza closed her eyes and listened to the stream of water splashing into the sink. Finally, a slight tinkle began. “Good girl!” John said. “Now, do you know how to wipe, Eliza?”

Of course she did. And they had agreed on no touching in that area. Eliza found herself aching for some touch down there. The whole evening had been a long series of humiliations, and that was the sort of stuff that got her going. She’d never imagined herself being into this stuff, and to be honest, she couldn’t ever see herself roleplaying a little girl for her own pleasure. But the roleplay did facilitate humiliation, and that had her loins all wet and slippery. No. It might set a bad precedent. We’ll have to renegotiate. On the other hand… She did say no unnecessary touching of privates, did she not? What if it were necessary? She did allow him to clean her in the bath and dry her off, all over her body.

“Uh… Maybe you could show me?” She bit her lip and looked him in the eye. For a brief moment, he blushed, a little flustered, but then he was back in control.

“Of course, baby,” John said. “It’s very important that you keep clean down there, so you don’t get any nasty infections. You don’t want that, do you, Eliza?”

She shook her head.

John ceremoniously grabbed a piece of toilet paper. It was four-ply, premium quality, soft as silk. Eliza considered expensive toilet paper to be literally throwing money down the toilet, so she always went for the cheap stuff. Apparently, she didn’t know what she was missing. When John wiped her down, it was like being wrapped in a blanket of good emotions. “Teehee, it tickles,” she said.

“Oh,” said John. “I don’t think little girls need to think about that.”

Eliza was a little disappointed. “There, all done,” John said, and helped her slide the diaper up her hips. “Now let’s go cook some dinner.”

They entered a kitchen decked out with all the newest in stainless steel and Swedish design. It looked like something out of an unusually upscale IKEA catalog. There was a double-door refrigerator, two hypermodern stoves with electronic displays and more dials and buttons than Eliza’s laptop. “I’m afraid little girls and hot stoves don’t go well together,” John said. “But you can ready the table. Plates are over there,” he indicated the top of a tall cabinet, “and cutlery over there.”

Eliza tried to reach the shelf, but even on the tips of her toes, she wasn’t tall enough. The kitchen was clearly designed for someone John’s size. “I can’t reach up there,” she said.

“Silly me,” John said. He grabbed some plates and glasses, and she decked out the table. Then he kept her busy grabbing ingredients and explaining every step of the cooking process, just as if she were in grade school. It wasn’t the world’s most complicated meal, and Eliza was sure she could’ve managed it on her own. But she allowed him to teach her.

The meal was delicious. Medium rare steak, pepper sauce and cooked potatoes. Anything would have been good at this stage; it was close to five and she hadn’t eaten since around nine in the morning. But John wasn’t lying when he said he was a good cook.

Eliza tried to imagine herself as a young child. She deliberately missed with her fork, allowing some sauce to spill onto her face. Once she was done eating, John playfully scolded her for being a messy eater, and wiped it all away. “We’ll have to teach you some table manner,” he said, and laughed.

With the weight of a full belly, her tiredness returned. She wasn’t sure if she could keep her promise of staying awake until bedtime. When was that, anyway?

John led them back into the living room. She curled up on the coach, and he handed her a blanket. Eliza yawned. “I’m gonna stay awake, promise,” she said, by way of apology. He sat down beside her.

“It wasn’t easy,” John said. “Telling my ex about this fetish.” He stroked her hair. It was auburn, flowing down to her chest in curlicues. “I always knew, kind of. I always enjoyed caring for my baby brother, but not in a sexual way, of course. And then when I hit my teens, I would see these cute girls, and the guys would be like, ‘Damn, I’d like to fuck her.’ Behind her back, of course. And I’d go, ‘Yeah, man, you got it.’ But inwardly I’d be thinking, ‘I’d love to take her home, kiss her forehead and tuck her in.’”

“So it isn’t sexual at all for you?” Eliza said.

Jonathan blushed.

“Don’t think I haven’t caught you looking at me that way,” Eliza said. “It’s no big deal. I’m hiring out my body, after all. Feel free to think any dirty thoughts you want, as long as you don’t act out anything we didn’t agree on.”

He resumed stroking her hair. “Oh, Eliza. I have to admit, you’re stunning. And I could see myself in bed with you, having some adult fun. But I’m perfectly happy caring for you without touching you inappropriately. The truth is, when I look at you right now, I see a child and a woman at the same time. I’m attracted to the woman as a woman to do man-and-woman stuff with, and to the child as a child to care for.”

Eliza sat up. She didn’t want to pry into his evidently difficult feelings toward his ex, but he was the one to bring it up. She was curious. “So I take it your ex didn’t take the news very well?”

“I was a stuttering mess. I think if I’d proudly stated my preferences like they were no big deal, maybe things would have gone over differently. But I acted like I was ashamed of it, and so she assumed it was shameful.”

Eliza nodded. “Yeah,” she said, her sleepiness somewhat slurring her words and dragging them out. “I find that people almost always adopt the attitude that you project to the world. Act confident, they will see you as confident. Act ashamed, they will assume you have good reason for it and pile on with the shaming.”

“Jane told me maybe she could help me get over it,” John said. “Maybe there was some other fantasy we could act out that would make me forget all about little girls and diapers and all that. She offered anal. She even hinted that a threesome might be on the horizon, she had some open-minded friends—Jane is in the porn biz, after all. But once it became clear that it wasn’t a phase and it wasn’t something that would ever go away, it became a constant source of conflict. She just couldn’t deal with the fact that I was fantasizing about her as a little girl—I mean, as an adult acting like one, not that I was jerking off to her childhood portraits or something.”

“I’m sorry,” said Eliza.

“But she led me to you,” Jonathan said. “Jane told me you might be open to something like this.”

“I’m all yours, until tomorrow morning.”

Suddenly, his hand was under her skirt. He pushed against the dry padding of her crotch, but then he withdrew his hand as quickly as he put it up there. “Just checking,” he said. “Don’t want you leaking on the couch.”

Eliza wiggled free of him. “I’m a big girl and I don’t need this thing,” she said, lifting her skirt to indicate the diaper. The bottom of her breasts peaked out, giving him a nice little underboob look. “I told you, I’m gonna keep dry until seven.”

“We’re almost there, kitten. Just tell me if you need to go potty.”

They sat in silence for a while on the coach. Again, Eliza’s eyes drooped, and she had to fight for them to stay open. “Hey, could you make some coffee or something? I’m almost falling asleep here,” Eliza said.

“I would, but not so close to bedtime. I don’t want my baby all hyper when she’s supposed to go to sleep.”

Eliza sank back into the couch.

“I can tell you’re bored. We’re supposed to have fun! Don’t you forget that. Little girls are allowed to be fussy if they’re understimulated. Not too fussy, of course, or I’ll have to take them over the knee,” John added. “Look, it’s almost seven o’clock. Come with me to the bathroom. If your pull-up is still dry, we can forget about your accident earlier”—a blush, at that—“and go back to panties. Come with me.”

Eliza stayed where she was. She felt as if she’d eaten a pot brownie, and now she was couchlocked. If only she had some sleep the night before. She’d been worried about finances. Her landlord had hiked up the rent, and if John had decided to cancel on her for some reason, she’d have been shit out of luck. She saw now that she needn’t have worried. His fee alone would cover a month’s rent and more, but she couldn’t have known that he wouldn’t back out. A few of her clients had done that. The idea of hiring a prostitute sounded appealing, but when it came to it, they didn’t have it in them. Society at large still frowns upon the practice, no matter how consensual it is. What she did was technically illegal, although her operation was luxurious and professional enough that, in practice, she was largely safe from law enforcement. But some of her clients, like John, were upper class with a reputation to protect. Some were so worried about being blackmailed, they demanded video footage of her conducting the transaction, themselves conveniently off screen, in order to have some dirt on her. Eliza refused such requests, of course. But no matter the validity of her concerns, they’d kept her up at night, and now she didn’t want to do anything but close her eyes and drift into sleep.

John picked her up and carried her to the bathroom. He was surprisingly strong for his lanky build. Then again, she was petite. John set her down in front of the toilet. “Okay, Eliza. Moment of truth. Did you have an accident, or are you still dry?”

“Still dry,” Eliza said, although her gaze was on the floor.

“Then you wouldn’t mind if I check?” He asked.

Eliza lifted her dress in response. John slipped a finger into the side of her diaper, although his fingers never strayed toward her pussy. “Almost completely dry,” He said.

“I was turned on for a bit,” Eliza said. “That doesn’t count.”

“I suppose not,” John said. “Okay. Do you want panties for the rest of the night?”

Eliza nodded. John disappeared for a moment, although he stopped in the doorway to assure her he wasn’t leaving her alone for more than a minute, as if she were a child with separation anxiety.

Once he was back, he made her try to pee in the toilet again. This time, she managed a little trickle without the aid of a running tap. Then he slipped on her panties, and a little bit of her adulthood was restored. The used diaper went in a separate trash can, she noted. John really was prepared for everything.

Eliza’s eyes were drooping. “John, please, I really need that coffee if I’m going to stay awake,” she said. “Pretty please? Just a little cup.”

“No,” he said plainly. “And I don’t want to hear any more about it. Stop nagging.”

Eliza stopped and resisted his attempt to lead her onwards. “Please,” she said again. “I’m so tired. Don’t you want me to stay awake and play with you?”

“Enough,” John said.

She tried one last time. “Please?”

John turned around. His demeanor had changed. His size advantage had made him feel like a big, strong protector, but now it felt like a threat. Eliza took a step back. His face was red, his mouth contorted into a frown. “Enough is enough. You will go stand in the corner for twenty minutes, and if I hear as much as a peep from you, you’re going over the knee. Is that clear?”

Eliza gave an uncertain nod. She had awakened the beast. Eliza hadn’t seen this side of John before. One part of her was terrified; the other, secretly excited. He was finally warming up to the role of the Dominant in their scene. “But what if I need to go to the bathroom?” Eliza asked. “May I speak then?”

“You just went,” he said curtly. “You can hold it for twenty minutes. You were so eager to prove that you belong in panties, so here’s your chance. Come to think of it, I don’t want you to get dehydrated. I’ll bring you a bottle of water, and I expect you to finish it by the time your timeout’s up.”

Time passed glacially in the corner. She stared at the off-white wall and tried to distract herself with happy thoughts, occasionally taking a sip of water. It was no use. Her punishment was boredom, and she deserved it. Little Eliza had pushed it too far. Although her eyes drooped, standing up kept her awake. She attempted to sit down, thinking perhaps she could sneak in a powernap while John wasn’t watching, but he told her to stand up immediately.

Eliza was frustrated, tired, and now her stomach was starting to hurt, too. What do babies do when they’re sick and tired and want to get their will? They cry. Eliza wasn’t much of an actor—well, that wasn’t true. She was very good at inhabiting the roles her clients wanted her to play, but that was the extent of her abilities. Eliza couldn’t cry on command. But right now, she felt very much the fussy baby, and focusing on her tired and frustrated state made her all the more upset. Once she added in the mental image of her true love dumping her—that was long ago, before she stopped believing there was one and only one person out there for her—she managed a little sniffle, and soon tears were rolling down her cheeks. Quickly, John was beside her.

“Baby, don’t cry. What is it?” He said. His tone had changed from stern to paternal concern.

“I’m tired. My tummy hurts. I don’t want to stand in this stupid corner anymore,” she said, between sniffles. All of which was true. That part wasn’t an act.

John looked her over. She was standing there in a juvenile summer dress, the one he had put her in after she peed in her first outfit of the day (second, really, since he had removed the one she came in). She had puffy eyes and drying tears down her cheeks. The sight of her so miserable seemed to break through his defenses. John squatted down beside her and gave her a hug. “Now, now, don’t cry, sweet child. I think you’ve learned your lesson about disobeying me. Haven’t you, kitten?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Eliza said.

[ikeromantic]

A Good Morning

A Chevalier Michel fanfiction. Approx. 1200 words. This scene takes place in Chapter 4 of the main route and is told from Chevalier’s POV. Part 6 of a series.

First: Bravery Becomes Her

Previous: A Beast and His Books

Chevalier found his mind returning to that afternoon in the library. The way the Belle’s face betrayed every motion of her heart when she spoke. She was proving to be quite interesting. Moreso than he expected. Distracting as well, he thought, as he read through the trade route missive again. He would need to double the forces protecting the road to Jade. That was where his mind should be.

The trade route reports only reminded him of her brash promise. To bring him a book he had not read, one from a foreign market. She looked so determined when she made that pledge. He half expected she would manage it, though the whole idea was quite silly. Just as she was. 

He read and wrote until his eyes were too tired to track the words on the page. Then, reluctantly, he went to bed. Sleep was a great waste of time, but indispensable as well. As a child, he’d tried to go without sleeping at all. Refusing naps and bedtime with obstinancy. But he realized very quickly that without rest, his thoughts became disordered and fuzzy. His reactions slowed. Unacceptable. 

Frustrated, he set aside his work. Rest could not be avoided any longer. So he stripped down to a night shirt and laid his sword on the pillow beside him. Then he made himself shut his eyes and be still until he felt shallow sleep settle in.

Sunlight poured through the window, bright and golden and warm. Chevalier woke to the sound of his door opening slowly. The prince tensed. Another assassination attempt? His body tensed and his ears strained. 

Light footsteps crept through his room. Small slippered feet moving with exaggerated care. 

He knew what had wandered into his private sanctum now. Not an assassin. Only a fool. A lovely, ridiculous creature with wide eyes and a gentle smile. Chevalier kept still, his eyes shut. 

She crept right up to the edge of the bed. “Good morning Prince Chevalier!”

His breath was steady and he didn’t so much as twitch. Was she really here to wake him? This had the stink of Clavis all over it. Playing his little games. His brother likely expected Chevalier to scare her again, thus setting up an inevitable conflict when the Belle picked a friendlier prince for the throne. So instead, he decided to play the deep sleeper. To ignore the girl until she scurried back out of his room.

“Ummm . . . wakey wakey? Eggs and Bakey?” Her voice quavered a bit with uncertainty as if the Belle only just realized she was poking a tiger. 

Surely she would leave now.

“Prince Chevalier!” 

Her shout could have raised the dead. “Be quiet,” he grumbled. He shifted enough to glare at her from the nest of his blankets. “If you make any more noise . . . you will regret it.” His voice was rough from sleep, his mouth dry, words slowed.

The Belle blushed, her lips parting to let out a surprised little breath. “I-”

Chevalier tugged the blanket over his head. He didn’t need to see her with that expression, not first thing in the morning. 

She cleared her throat delicately. 

“Why . . .” He croaked, frustration bleeding into that one word.

“Hm?”

Chevalier tried again. “Why did you come . . . to wake me up?” As if he didn’t know. As if he needed an answer. He could hear her smile as she replied.

“Well, starting today I’m going to be taking my meals with the princes. And you weren’t there this morning at the round table with the others.”

“So . . . Clavis . . . told you to come here?” Her silence was all the agreement he needed. “You shouldn’t . . . have. Get. Out.” 

The Belle took a deep breath, steeling herself to disagree with him. “But you can’t skip breakfast! It isn’t good for y- oh!”

He didn’t give her time to finish her inane response. Chevalier reached out and grabbed her arm. She didn’t have a chance to resist as he pulled her into the bed and right up against his chest. The Belle was as soft and sweet in his arms as he’d thought she might be. 

“What are you doing,” she gasped, when she’d found her words again. It had taken her a moment, he thought smugly. As well it should.

“I told you to get out. You disobeyed. So now I will silence you myself.” He’d meant to sound as cold as he always did. Separated from humanity by the icy walls of his logic and precision. But sleep (he blamed it on that solely) made his voice a warm burr, almost gentle. He could feel the little tremor that ran through her as his breath tickled her ear. 

Her lips parted as if she might say something else. Another protest.

He didn’t want her to say a word. Nor did he want to let go. He lifted a finger to her lips in order to shush her. They were like satin. Warm and yielding. He traced them with his fingertip. Would they feel the same pressed against his mouth, he wondered idly. 

The Belle’s face was flushed from his touch, her eyes so wide. “I’m . . . really sorry,” she whispered, “But . . . I’m not backing down about breakfast.”

He suppressed a smile. Any other woman would have used this situation to her benefit. She could have seduced him or cried out for help and caused a scandal. But she wanted him to have breakfast with her. “Why?”

“Because I’m worried it will affect your health.” 

Was she serious? “Don’t be ridiculous.”

She looked at him so earnestly it hurt. “Prince Chevalier, you don’t skip breakfast every day, do you?”

He looked up at the ceiling, wondering in what mad world he’d ended up in bed with a beautiful woman who insisted on not only waking him but nagging him about his eating habits. Somehow, he doubted even Clavis could have predicted this turn of events. 

“You might be a prince, but if you don’t have regular meals, eventually you’ll -”

Chevalier pressed his thumb against her lips. But they were parted and instead of simply hushing her, the pad of his thumb scraped the edge of her teeth. He could feel the tip of her tongue, warm and silky graze his skin. It sent an unexpected heat through him. He was not inexperienced with women, only disinterested. Except . . . this, he was certain, qualified as interest. It felt odd. Like being hungry or thirsty. He explored the feeling with curiosity, analyzing it rather than giving in.

The Belle pulled her head back, blinking at him in surprise. 

He gave her a thin smile. “If you are going to be so stubborn about it, you may bring my breakfast to my room. Later.”

“What? Really?”

The prince shut his eyes, blocking out her face. Her questions. Trying, without success, to block the sensations she stirred in him. He did not need this, especially now, with the throne unsecured. 

She didn’t pull away from him right away. He could feel her eyes on him. The hammering of her heart. The shift of the blankets as she moved her hand to touch her mouth. Then she scrambled from the bed and stood, still watching him. 

Chevalier wondered what she was thinking. She hadn’t looked afraid. Or angry. He was tempted to open his eyes so that he could catch her expression. But then she would know he wasn’t asleep. She’d have more to say about meal time or some other nonsense. 

The Belle sighed and then left without another word.

It took a little while for him to find sleep again. His mind kept returning to her warmth and the sensation of her lips against his skin.

Next: A Word of Advice

[folklorelise]

Captain’s girlfriend being the Mom of the survey corps

You are Levi’s girlfriend, and you LOVE taking care of these kids.

  - Background story

As a kid, you grew up next to Levi and his mother’s door. Your mothers knew each other since they used to work together. You and Levi very soon became inseparable. You would always play together during daytime; you would sleep together too because neither of you wanted to leave each other. You mother died when you were four, and very soon after that a farmer came and took you in. You tried to resist because you wanted to stay with Levi but the military police intervened. You didn’t even get to say goodbye to Levi and you were gone. Levi did not understand why from one day to another, you just disappeared. He asked his mom where you were, but she had no idea too.

”Is it because she doesn’t love me anymore?” Levi wondered.

”I’m sure she loves you, don’t worry about that my angel.” Kuchel reassured him while hugging him.

On your side, the farmer told you that he was your father. Your mother had succeeded, somehow, to send him a letter telling him how she knew she was sick. As a dying wish, she asked him to come and take care of you.

”I want to go back! I have a friend there and I didn’t get to say goodbye.”

”I’m sorry but the Underground is dangerous. You’re much safer here in wall Sina.”

Since then, you lived with your father helping him with the farms. Your father’s farm helped feeding the three military branches, so it was important to work hard. At the age of eighteen, it was time for you to choose a career. Younger, you thought about joining the training corps, but you father was against it, so you continued studying and finally began training as a nurse. You worked with Doctor Yeager a lot and once your trainings were completed, you decided to join the survey corps as nurse to help. You were twenty-one when that happened.

Your first friend was Hange. They would come into the infirmary very often due to their experiments. It was the only friendship you made since you arrived - you didn’t know how to make friends but Hange was very sociable, so they introduced you to Erwin and Mike. One day, you were eating with Hange in your office and you were talking about the latest news.

”Erwin just brought in three recruits!”

”Is that even allowed?” you asked surprised.

”Apparently. They were all against it because they’re from the underground. But I’ve seen them in action, and they are amazing. Even more because they had no training. You have to see them in action, because one of them, Levi, is truly a titan slayer god.” Hange blabbered.

”Levi?” you wondered, could it be your Levi? It has been a very long time, but he was only friend when you were a kid. Was he still alive? If so, did he change? Surprisingly, you still looked a lot like when you were a kid (according to your father).

”Yeah that’s his name, and his friends are here too — Isabel and Furlan. They are probably training right now if you want to meet them.”

”Why not!”

You finished your meal and went to the training grounds.

”FLAGON! Hi!” Hange screamed.

”Hange and my favourite nurse!” Flagon smiled, ”If you are here to meet my new members, they are killing titans.”

”Y/N come, let’s find them!”

Hange took your arm and run through the trees and once you spotted them, you stopped. They were good. One of them turned their head to where you and Hange were and for a second, you two made eye contact. He froze for a second but quickly continued to kill fake titans.

”Are you okay?” Hange asked you worried. ”You look like you’ve seen a titan.”

”No, I’m good but I have to go, I just remembered how I had some paperwork to do. Hm I’ll see you later!” you explained before running away.

Once the three of them were done training, they met Hange and Flagon again.

”Who was that girl?” Levi asked abruptly.

”Why do you care?” Flagon answered.

”Just tell me.” Levi urged clenching his teeth.

”That was our nurse.” Hange responded to avoid more conflict between the two of them.

”I want her name!” Levi growled exasperated.

”It’s Y/N, why?”

Levi didn’t answer Hange and just left rapidly. Isabel and Furlan were just as confused as the two squad leaders. You lock yourself in your office, panting a little because you ran to there. Levi knew where the infirmary was so he just knocks on your office’s door. He tried to open the door when you did not answer but it was locked.

”You’re a nurse, you can’t ignore your patients!” Levi yelled. ”Open the door now! Y/N!”

You unlocked the door and opened it slowly. You were scared to look at him so you’re eyes were fixed on his shoes. He gently pushed you inside so you would both have privacy. After a minute or two of silence, Levi suddenly took you in his arms.

”I thought that you were dead,” Levi mumbled, ”when you didn’t came that day, I thought that I’d never see you again.”

”I’m sorry,” you said hugging him back, ”a man came in when my mom died and he said that he was my father and since then, he took care of me. What about you? What are doing here? How’s your mom?” you asked softly.

”Erwin took us in,” Levi revealed briefly, ”and my mom died a few days after you were gone.”

”Oh... I’m so sorry about that.” you said looking at him.

”I’m glad you’re here.”

Since that day, you two spent all your free time together. Very soon enough, you met Levi’s friends. You loved spending time with them, and everything was fine. Until that expedition, where both Furlan and Isabel died. You tried your best to be there for Levi but it was difficult between all the amount of work you had to do after each expedition. So, at night, you would sneak into his room that he used to share with Furlan, but now it was just him. Levi was on his bed, curled up on himself. You would just lay beside him, with your arms around him. You were sleeping together just like you used to when you were kids. Since that day, Levi never let you go back to your old bed.

  - First meeting with the 104th cadets

As head of the medical team, you volunteered to do rounds at the training headquarters because some of the kids were incredibly clumsy. It was the first week of training and you would constantly be visited by Eren. That kid was way too into trainings and wouldn’t mind hurting himself.

”Eren you should really calm down a little bit on the trainings.”

”No! I have to become a survey corps soldier so I can defeat ALL THE TITANS!” Eren screamed determined. Mikasa behind who just grab Eren and forced him to sit on his chair so you could stitch him up.

  —————

  The next kid that you would often see was Armin. He was constantly cold during winter and you would order him to rest instead of training. He would have to stay with you because otherwise, he would continue training because he was determined to pass his evaluations.

”If I rest too long, I’ll forget everything!” Armin tried to explain.

”I don’t want you to get hurt if you work out while being sick like this. You would have to wear so many layers of clothes that you couldn’t even put your ODM gear on.”

Once, you had to come urgently because Armin got extremely sick during winter. And he requested to have you here because apparently, sick Armin is really picky. You couldn’t refuse of course. You took the medicine you had for a cold and some extra blankets because you knew there was not any at the training corps and left. Armin was curled up on himself with his winter coat as well as Mikasa’s on top him.

”Armin, hey, I’m here.” you woke him up gently by sitting next to him.

”My head...” Armin whimpered.

”I know, I asked another nurse to boil some water and. It’s going to get better,” you reassured him, ”here’s some extra blankets I took for you.” you showed him the two blankets and put them on him and took off the coats.

After a few days of intense care from you, Armin started to feel better already. But never enough for him to go back training and once you heard him talking with Eren and Mikasa.

”If I’m better now she’s going to leave and that means no more bedtime stories or anything!”

That night you told him that you had to leave because the survey corps had an expedition, he next morning.

”But you’re not a survey corps soldier.” Armin said confused.

”But I am the nurse assigned for the expeditions.”

”What? But isn’t that too dangerous?”

”I had a lot of training believe me, and I have been doing that for five years now so I think I’m good. But thank you for worrying about me.” you laughed softly. ”I’ll be back in a few weeks alright?”

Armin only nodded and fell back to sleep.

  —————

  Reiner would constantly come for minor injuries or fake ones just because he liked hanging out in the infirmary. Reiner was too adorable for you to send him away. Bertolt would very often be with Reiner, and he would too often apologise for Reiner behaviour.

”I know you must be very busy, We shouldn’t bother you any longer.” Bertolt would blabber.

”Not at all! You kids are too adorable and nice for me to throw you outside.” you reassured them which would always lead to you giving them a hug after. You would remember the first time you hugged Reiner, he back up so brutally that it just confused you.

”What’s wrong? Are you hurt somewhere?” you asked worried.

”No! I-I was just... surprised.”

”Well get used to that then.” you joked before hugging him again.

  —————

  You remember once Jean broke his arm so he couldn’t eat by himself and you had to feed him his soup and bread. Jean was sitting with his friend, but he couldn’t go and grab his food and earlier you had told him to wait for you. Five minutes after, you appeared next to him with his soup and bread and fruit.

”Thanks Y/N but I think I can eat by myself.” Jean said with a grin. You didn’t leave and instead just watched him struggle with his left arm. He would spill half of his spoon on the table but he didn’t ask for help. You took the spoon out of his hand and took a spoonful of soup and blow on it so it wouldn’t be too hot. You put your hand under the spoon and expected Jean to eat the food without protest but that didn’t happen.

”Jean, just eat the food.”

”No! I-”

”Open your mouth before I make you.” you ordered with a firm voice.

Everyone was surprised by your tone since you were always so calm and patient. Jean stopped protestant and ate his food. Once you were done you cleaned his plates and went back to your office without another word. Just before you were ready to go back to the survey corps headquarters, your door opened on Jean.

”Shouldn’t you be sleeping at this hour?” you asked softly.

”I...” he hesitated while blushing a little, ”I’m sorry about earlier. You just — you were just helping me, and I was... a jerk...”

”Jean, it’s fine.”

”You promise?”

”I promise, don’t worry. Now go back to bed, I have to leave soon.”

”When are you coming back?”

”Very soon, so until then, ask Marco to help you eat.”

    - The night of the ceremony

Erwin was delivering his prepared speech, that he had practiced on you and Levi a least a thousand times. You would listen to him attentively in front of the crow. And in the end, only a bunch of them stayed. You would of course see Eren, Armin and Mikasa together. You greeted them and everyone else. You saw Jean sitting alone — you were surprised to see him here since you thought that he would join the MP. Your approached him and sat next to him.

”Are you okay? Where’s Marco?” you wondered.

”Marco’s dead.”

You didn’t say anything and just took Jean in your arms. He rested his head on you shoulder and cried a little.

    - Jean can sleep after Marco’s death

You were in Levi’s office, doing paperwork with him as usual.

”You love these kids too much.” Levi stated.

”What? I like them a little.”

”Oh please. You spent all your free during these last three years with them.”

”It’s my job to take care of them.” you laughed.

”They weren’t even that badly injured.”

”Aw, were you jealous? You just have to tell me and I’m all yours.” you teased him.

”You already are.” Levi expressed with a smirk.

”Oh, I’m out of tea, I’ll be right back.” you warned Levi before leaving, but not before a kiss to your boyfriend.

You walked to the kitchen with your two cups and boiled some water. You poured some water in your cups and left the kitchen which leads to the mess hall. A small figure was sitting alone at the back. You walked closer to that person and quickly noticed Jean.

”Can’t sleep?” you asked softly.

”Every time I close my eyes, I keep seeing Marco’s half body just lying there... alone.”

”I know it’s hard, especially because you just spent three entire years with him.” you sat next to him, ”but you need to rest. You are part of the survey corps now and it’s a lot of work.”

”I can’t fall asleep...”

”Go back to bed and I’ll be there, I just have to take these,” you showed the cups of tea, ”to someone and I’ll be there okay?”

He nodded and left. You ran to Levi’s office and told him what happened.

”You love these kids too much.” Levi repeated.

”I’m sorry, it’s just...”

”Y/N, it’s fine,’ Levi reassured you smiling, ”plus, I know how that Jean boy is your favourite so just go but come back to bed with me!” Levi screamed as you ran out of his office as soon as he said it was fine.

Once in front of Jean’s bedroom that he shared with Connie, you opened the door gently. Connie was sleeping on the top of the bunk bed. Jean was sitting on his bed waiting for you. You sat next to him and took off your shoes.

”I once managed to get a guy who would only sleeps three hours top every night to have a better schedule of sleep. So, I think I can get you to sleep.” you told Jean.

Jean had his head on your lap, and you sat against the wall. You started to tell one of the stories your dad used to tell you when you couldn’t sleep. While doing that, you would of course play with his hair because according to Levi ”that sh!t’s amazing to help me sleep so do it”. Soon after Jean fall asleep. You wanted to leave but he had his arms around you too tight. After an hour of waiting, Levi opened the door with a confused expression.

”What are you still doing here?” Levi asked quietly.

”Jean isn’t letting me go.” you showed his arms around you.

”I’m going to kill that boy tomorrow when training!” Levi yelled softly.

Levi then helped you get out of Jean’s arms. You kissed his forehead before leaving him sleep.

”I’m never going to say this enough but you love these kids too much.”

”I do.” you confessed.

”You shouldn’t.”

”I know, they are strange-”

”No. I’m saying this because if they end up dying in the next few expeditions, you’ll never get over it. And I don’t like seeing you all sad.” he explained.

”I knoow, but I can’t help it if they are all so adorable!”

—————

PART 2: here

MASTERLIST

[rek1s-headband]

hi could i request something? basically just HCS about langa and reki when you guy get into a fight or sum idk LMFAOO, you dont have to do this if you dont want to tho <3

➯ A/N: Thank you for the request! I hope you enjoy. I added a few characters, hope you don’t mind:)

➯ When you guys get into a fight

➯ Characters: Langa Hasegawa, Reki Kyan, Kaoru Sakurashiki, Kojiro Nanjou, Hiromi Higa and Miya Chinen x gn reader

➯ Warnings: angst if you squint, fluff

Langa:

Ok the majority of your fights are generally because of a miscommunication. If things aren’t spelled out for the poor boy, he’ll be completely oblivious to what’s bothering you

When you finally snap, he always seems shocked, asking why you hadn’t said anything sooner, even if you’d been trying to hint at it all week

Not really one to shout, but if things get heated enough he might snap. He always feels awful afterwards though. No matter what, he really believes no one should be screamed at because of something as silly as a disagreement

Rarely storms out, he’s always going to try and stay until the end to try and get something, anything out of you that he can use to try and understand your point of view

Understands space. He knows when you dont feel like talking to him, and he will give you that time to collect your thoughts. When you’re ready to speak again, he’s all ears

Gets overwhelmed really easy. It doesnt really show in what he says, but when you raise your voice his brain goes to putty and he can feel his breath get narrow. He’s not scared, he just doesn’t want to be the reason you’re feeling like this.

Never lets you go to bed angry. He’ll give you your space, but if you’re still quiet by bedtime he’s making sure you’ve eaten and you’re not still really upset by whatever played out that day

Overthinks a lot. How long did he not realise you were upset? What if its actually a much bigger deal than you’re letting on? What if you leave? Of course, he knows a lot of it is completely irrational, but it still lingers in the back of his mind, so you can imagine how relieved he is when the fight is over and you’re back in his arms

Asks people for advice a lot. Reki and Cherry are usual helpers, giving Langa their opinions on the matter without going into too much detail. The rest is up to him.

Gives the best hugs and comfort after a fight. He understands couples can fight, and never really takes the aggression let out by the pair of you too seriously. Rubbing the back of your head and holding you close to his chest, he’ll reassure you that he’s not going anywhere, that he’s not going to leave “just because of a silly fight” while you fight back tears on his shoulder.

Reki

Unlike Langa, Reki is a very open person in terms of his feelings, so your fights are rarely because of closed away emotions. However, many are caused by you feeling he is spending too much time in his workshop, overworking himself and not spending as much time with you as he should.

As for Reki, he gets mad when he feels you’re being closed off from him, not telling him things and hiding your true emotions. It’s not that he doesnt trust you, he just doesnt want you shouldering anything by yourself, and tries to make things easier for you by halving the problem.

A very emotional person, and this really shows when the two of you argue. There’s a lot of tears, a lot of raised voices, yknow those exhausted laughs when you’re tired of arguing with someone? Those. He pulls at his hair a lot in frustration too

Both of you need to walk away from each other a lot during arguments. You’re both driven by your emotions, so its hard to think logically once you’ve both gotten really upset.

The type to sit outside a door after an argument if you’ve locked yourself in a room, pressing against it and quietly talking to you, regardless of whether or not he gets a response

Understands space, to a certain extent. He’ll try and talk to you after an argument, try anything to get you to just answer him, to come out from your room, to stop ignoring him. He knows when you really don’t want to face him though, which is when he’ll go out for a while, either to Langa’s for advice, or just for a quiet skate.

Despite how upset he gets in the moment, he gets over it quickly. Once he’s out of his head and seeing properly, he’ll take some time to think it over and see things from your point of view. He’ll come back to you with an apology, and when you’re ready to talk, he’ll discuss things with you this time around instead of fighting

If the fight lasts overnight, he refuses to let you take the couch. If he feels a fight will last, he’ll glue himself to the couch, making it impossible for you to sleep anywhere other than your bed. No matter what the fight was about, he refuses to have you sleep uncomfortably.

Tends to cry after making up. It’s rarely out of sadness, of course, more relief than anything. He’s just happy to have you back in his arms, no longer ignoring him.

Cherry

A very rational person, fights are very rare between the pair of you. When you do fight, it tends to be because you feel he’s being closed off from you, not being as open and emotional with you. As for him, he doesnt like when you act too aloof about things that are actually serious to him

Fights start out quiet, talking in normal tones and using your heads. However, as the fight goes on, your voices gradually get higher and louder, arms thrown in the air as you get in each other’s faces.

He snaps quite a bit. Petty remarks, snappy replies and other unnecessary comments are thrown out without much thought as he gets more pissed off. Not necessarily because he doesn’t have anything to defend himself, but because once he’s started, he’ll do just about anything to piss you off

Depending on the fight, it could last an hour or a week. Both of you are so petty that you’ll refuse to apologise to the other, forgetting who was even in the wrong in the first place

Honestly, whoever goes to sleep first gets the bed, he’s not as considerate as Reki. However, as the fight goes on, the pair of you will stay up for ungodly hours into the night, trying to outlast the other because they dont want them sleeping on the couch. You’ll never admit that though, which is why you wont just fall asleep on the couch first. Besides, if you happen to fall asleep on the couch before Kaoru goes to bed, he’ll carry you upstairs and sleep on the couch himself. He’ll never admit that though, he’ll simply say you woke up and went upstairs in a hazy half-sleep, which is why you dont remember.

He’s definitely programmed Carla to apologise to you for him at least once, rolling her into the room you’re in before quickly walking out to the sound of “Y/N, I-am-very-sorry-and-I-was-wrong-please-forgive-me” in Carlas robotic voice

If you ever go to Joe’s restaurant to cool down, he’ll make a big fuss, swaying and sighing, dramatically shouting about “however will these lovers reconcile!?” Once his act is over though, he’ll comfort you and give you your favourite meal, tutting over the pair of you and thinking of ways to help you make up

Literally won’t let you go of you for at least a week after you fight. This mf is hanging off you, constant forehead kisses, the whole deal. He’s gone without your affection for a long time while you fought, he’s simply making up for lost time

Joe

You get really pissed at him when he flirts with other girls. He doesn’t mean to, he’s just a bit of a girl magnet and it’s his nature to entertain them. Of course, he all yours, but he forgets sometimes that jealousy is actually a thing

Doesnt take arguments as seriously as he probably should. He’s the type to tell you to “calm down” in the worst possible moment, its usually what makes you explode, actually.

Absolutely dense. The type to listen to you shout for five minutes, and only then have the audacity to ask you just what your problem was

It’s not his fault, bless him. He’s just a little unobservant when it comes to your emotions. When he realises you’re actually upset though, he’s apologising profusely and promising to never do it again

His apologies are always so genuine, you generally forgive him. However, if he does something that really pisses you off and you dont forgive him, he’ll give you space to think

Fights are usually resolved within a day. Like Langa, he refuses to let you go to bed angry

Cooks for you every meal regardless of whether or not you eat it. He’ll leave meals outside your door as a sort of truce, quietly pressing against the door and asking you to please come eat with him, that he hates the idea of you holed up in there all alone

Like Kaoru, he tends to reply with snarky remarks that have little to do with the argument, but they have a little less bite to them. More petty, if anything

Another big reason for why fights never last long is because this man literally. Will. Not. Survive. Without. You. You’ll be trying to ignore him while he comes in every five minutes, asking you how to get a certain channel on the TV, or stupid things you know he’s only asking because he misses talking to you

After you make up, he literally wont even look at another girl for at least a week. Mf will literally turn his head the other way if a girl comes near him, shouting about how he’s spoken for

Shadow

The biggest hothead. He says a lot of things he doesn’t mean in the moment, which will cause you to storm out and he’ll immediately regret it

The fight almost immediately escalates past hushed voices, swear words thrown around as you get in each other’s faces

He’ll get really upset, but he’ll mask it with being pissed off and angry, clashing pots around and acting like a literal baby. He doesnt want to admit it, but he always feels awful right after a fight. He knows youll need a bit of space after the intense shouting, so he’ll give you that space before even attempting an apology

Aggressively cares for you. Like he’ll say things like “I made food, it’ll taste like shit if you leave it, so I suggest you have it now” or “nope, I want the couch, I’m gonna watch something” he’ll never admit it, he just wants to make sure you’re alright even while fighting

If the two of you go to S while fighting, it’ll be very obvious. Usually you’re attached at the hip, but now you couldn’t be further apart. However, he’s still looking out for you, keeping an eye on you to make sure you’re alright. If you’re ever getting hit on by some creep, the fight is forgotten and he’s back at your side, daring the stranger to come any closer to you.

Reki is always the first to notice, poking him and pushing you over to him, trying to get the two of you to make up. Surprisingly, it actually does help clear the air

He can never stay mad at you for long though, he’s completely soft for you

Makes you bouquets to try and apologise. He’s taught you a lot about the meanings of flowers, so he’ll specifically pick ones with hidden meanings like “I’m sorry” or “I love you”

Not very good with verbal apologies. He knows when they’re needed though, and they are usually delivered through a series of grumbles and sad expressions. The thought is there though

Gives very gentle, long hugs after you make up. He’ll hold you close, suggesting a date or a movie to help the two of you relax

Miya

Literally the biggest bitch out of the six to fight with. He’s so petty, he will refuse to admit he’s wrong for the longest time. Once he’s in, there’s no accepting he’s not right

At least for a while anyway. He’ll start to feel bad once he sees just how upset you’re getting, frustrated with his inability to see anyone’s point of view but his own

King of the silent treatment. He’ll hide away behind his switch, drowning out his guilty thoughts with the white noise of animal crossing

He’ll skate to take his mind off things, practicing new tricks until he’s exhausted

Makes really snide remarks that have absolutely nothing to do with the argument. The type to bring up shit that happened 4 months ago just to help his case

Reki is usually the one to make him see sense, telling him just how petty he’s being, and that he cant get so defensive when he’s in the wrong. He knows this, obviously, he just can’t help it sometimes.

Although he’s not one for real apologies, he’ll slowly begin to stop ignoring you, bringing you small snacks or sending you funny things he saw on his phone. He’ll sit beside you, acting as if it was completely unintentional, but will slowly inch closer and closer until he’s curled up at your side, mumbling about how he wasn’t completely right after all

Will literally hit anyone who tries to comment on how the pair of you have made up, talking about how “its not even that big of a deal, just shut up”

Ad*m

Yall fought cause y’know. He’s ad*m

Sat outside your house with a speaker and an ugly ass sign. It started raining and his sign got ruined and his makeup ran

You broke up with him and he cried

Slipped in the rain while leaving <3

[secret-treasury]

Dad!Sirius

little blurbs about sirius being the best dad ever. Also includes some sirius X reader, Marauders.

Babysitters

Atlas loves when Lily babysits them. He is just smitten with her and he especially likes her hair. She’ll hold him and he would just stare at her with awe. He would pull a little on her hair and would get pouty when told off for it, especially from James. He isn’t a fan of James' because he always takes Lily away from him at the end of the day and he doesn't like that, but eventually he’d grow to like him... a little.

Neo on the other hand enjoys hanging out with James. She follows him everywhere and wants to be with him when he does random things, she is like his little shadow. She gets pouty if she doesn’t get to play with his glasses and he always tells her to be careful with them so as to not break them. She has an attitude, she rolls her eyes at him. “Well… she's a pads kid alright!” he’d joke. To which she responds with an excited “Padtoot!” and laugh while running away with James' glasses to get her dog plushy.

Remus is however Neo's favorite babysitter and for one reason only. He has a beard and she loves beards and just wants to grab at them. Luckily both Sirius and Remus keep their beards trimmed short so there isn’t much for her to grab. Sirius did the prank on her where he hid the lower part of his face behind a towel, then when he revealed his clean shaven face, Neo was SO upset she wouldn’t stop crying. Whenever she saw him until his beard grew back she’d cry at the sight of him. When he finally had his beard back she had missed him so much. She’d have a similar reaction to remus shaving but milder. Neo loves hanging out with her uncles but daddy is still the best. Remus and Atlas get along great, atlas loves to sit in uncle Remy's lap while he reads, and most of the time he falls asleep, Atlas is a very cuddly and sleepy boy so it works out well.

Regulus is a decent babysitter but confuses the twins slightly when they are very young for the simple reason that he looks similar to their dad. Before they eventually learn the difference, he would be kind of an ‘imposter Sirius’ because they are aware that isn’t dad…. But he really looks like dad….

Bath time!

Both Neo and Atlas LOVE bath time, especially with their dad. They both just can’t stop laughing when Sirius makes himself a bubble beard and causes bubbles to fly everywhere when he talks. He’d create fun narratives with pirates and priateship and sea monsters.

The only thing Atlas doesn’t like about bath time is washing his hair, he cries so much because he doesn’t like getting shampoo in his eyes or when water runs down his face. Luckily Sirius is super gentle with him and makes sure he feels safe the whole time.

“Close your eyes” the little boy does as his father says and shuts his eyes really hard. Sirius puts some shampoo in his palm and rubs his hands together before massaging it into the boy’s hair. Atlas starts whining a little bit. “It’s alright buddy” sirius comforts. When it’s time to wash the shampoo out he gets pouty again. Sirius tells Atlas to lean his head back while he supports the little boy’s back with his hand.

“Are you keeping ‘em closed?”. Atlas nods and again focuses on keeping his eyes shut as hard as he can. “Here comes the water,” Sirius warns. He would never do anything to break his son’s trust, especially not for a laugh. All three of them sing a song together, usually some type of nursery rhyme, to help distract the little scared boy from the water.

Neo was easier to handle albeit a bit wild. She loved singing the song whilst water was running down her face and it sounded like she was underwater. She’d laugh a lot and then accidentally breath in some water. She’d be upset for a moment and cough a bit but in no time she’s singing happily again. Sirius often found himself singing nursery rhymes in the shower when he would wash his own hair, just a weird habit he had when the kids were little.

After bath time he would help them into their cute little bathrobes and then the two kids would run to their mama looking like little jawas. Sirius would join them moments later, clothes splashed with bathwater and bubbles still in his beard. He didn’t mind though.

Bedtime

Sirius would teach them to brush their teeth by themself as soon as possible. He would seat them on the bathroom counter, give them their little toothbrushes and portion out the tooth paste. Neo was the most troublesome in this area, she didn’t like brushing her teeth so he’d tell her an elaborate story of why she needs to brush her teeth. Unfortunately she didn’t believe him. Atlas did though and always pointed out that they need to brush their teeth every morning and evening like the sweet boy he is. Because of Neo's brother pestering her with the importance of brushing her teeth she’d do it. So it worked out for Sirius eventually… in a roundabout way.

After all the teeth had been brushed, including Sirius’, he set them back down on the floor and the twins rushed as fast as their little legs could carry them to their shared bedroom. Atlas would get his blankie and his deer plush that he got from auntie Lils when he was born. Neo would get a book and her very loved dog plushy also called padfoot or as she ‘padtoot’. They would wait for Sirius to join them and he would take a seat in the armchair they had in their little room, he would place the twins in his lap and they would get comfortable. Atlas would share his blankie and they would place their plushies in their laps getting ready for the bedtime story.

Sirius would read to them and also educate them on different topics, making the twins question what happened in the story and why. While also keeping it lighthearted and fun. He’d give the characters different voices, some were funny and some were silly. After they finished the story they would beg him to read another one and it would break his heart telling them no, but he knew they were exhausted and needed their sleep. “There will be another story tomorrow”

Puting Atlas to sleep was the easiest thing in the world. As soon as his head hit the pillow he would be asleep, holding onto his blankie and his plush. Sirius would pull the covers up and lovingly caress the boy’s cheek and place a kiss on his forehead wishing him goodnight.

Neo was more troublesome, she wanted Sirius to stay with her until she fell asleep. He’d tuck her in, kiss her forehead and also give ‘padtoot’ a goodnight kiss. Then he’d sit on the floor by her bed and caress her cheek til she fell asleep. Sometimes he’d fall asleep on the floor leaning onto the side of her bed.

Food habits

Atlas is a picky eater, veggies are his number one enemy and he’ll do anything to not eat them. Sirius understands this because he himself hated veggies when he was little although his punishments for not eating them was very uncalled for. It takes a lot of coaxing to get atlas to eat them and he is always the last one at the table. Sirius has tried everything but it's still a struggle.

“Just eat 3 more broccolis and a cauliflower, then you can go play” Sirius tried to convince the boy but he just shook his head and scrunched up his face in disgust. He couldn’t help but sigh at the cute but stubborn little boy. “Eat two and then we’ll go play afterwards, okay buddy?” Sirius tried to bargain. He saw a glimmer in the boy's eyes.

“You play too?” he asked hopefully and Sirius nodded. Atlas unwillingly picked up the fork and poked at the veggies. After a while he picked out the two smallest veggies and ate them one at a time. “Done!” he declared after forcing them down. Atlas slipped off the chair and rushed to join his siblings.

“Daddy will play with us” he cheered happily, veggies long forgotten. They spent most of the afternoon playing hide and seek. Atlas was the first to get tired and decided to hide under the covers in his parents bed. As he crawled under the covers Neo and Zagreus noticed his genius hiding spot and went to join him.

“Here I come!” Sirius called out as he began looking around the house. Not finding them in the usual hiding spots he began to feel worried even though they couldn’t possibly have left the house. When he passed the master bedroom he noticed 3 child sized lumps in his and his wife's bed. As he got closer he could hear some giggling. He carefully peeled up the covers to peek inside to see his pups. “I found you” he chuckled as he began scooping them up in his arms as they laughed and giggled happily.

When Y/N came home later that afternoon the house was quiet. The plates and cutlery, long forgotten on the kitchen table much to her annoyance. However, the sight she was greeted with in her bedroom of her husband and three little children sleeping together in a pile on the bed, tangled up in the covers and blankets. It was enough for her heart to swell with love.

Neo generally isn't a picky eater, she eats well and healthy meals. She does however love ice cream though. the strawberry, vanilla and chocolate mix also known as neapolitan ice cream. Neo is a tough girl to bargain with as she’s not as easily fooled as other children, but ice cream is her weakness and Sirius does occasionally use that to his advantage.

“Neo, sweetie. Please it’s time to sleep,” Sirius would almost beg as he was seated beside her bed on the floor, being as tired as he wished his daughter was.

“No.” Neo said stubbornly and crossed her arms over the covers. Sirius had tucked the children into bed almost half an hour ago and both boys were fast asleep and sailing off to dreamland. “I don’t want you to leave me daddy” she sniffled and her eyes were glossy with tears. Overwhelmed by emotions she suddenly sat up and threw her little arms around her fathers neck, holding him tight. His arm wrapped around her little body and he caressed the back of her little head with his free hand. He remembered feeling a similar feeling when he was very little. When his mother seemed to love him.

“Of course I won't leave you, puppy.” he said comfortingly as his heart ached in his chest. Neo pulled back to look at him, tears running down her chubby little cheeks. her hands still on his shoulders and her fingers played with his long dark hair.

“Promise me daddy” she demanded with another sniffle. Her words tore him apart within.

“I won’t leave you, ever.” he promised. He knew it was a lie, that one day he would have to leave her alone on this earth, even though it seemed far til then. He dried the tears from her cheeks and kissed her forehead. “Now go to sleep sweetie”

“Only if I get ice cream for breakfast” she argued back with a little giggle as he crawled back under the covers. Sirius tucked her into bed once again.

“Not for breakfast, but sometime tomorrow we can have ice cream, okay?” he said and poked her nose gently and giggled along with her. She lifted her little hand and held out her pinky.

“And strawberries” she said as Sirius wrapped his larger pinky around her little one. It wasn’t strawberry season, Neo knew that but she cleverly made him promise her to get her favourite fruit too. He couldn’t simply go back on a pinky swear.

“And strawberries,” Sirius sighed with a smile on his lips. His little girl was so clever, he knew he got it from her mother but the way she used it, that was all him.

Zagreus eats pretty much anything even if he doesn't like it. He accidentally took a bite of a bar of soap once. It was shaped as a cinnamon bun and the poor boy thought it was real.

“Dad?” he said as he pulled on his fathers sleeve. The potters were over for dinner and Sirius was out on the porch chatting with James over a cold beer.

“What is it boy?” he said and crouched down to the little boy's level. The boy looked puzzled and showed his father the cinnamon bun soap with a child sized bit in it.

“This bun tastes weird, dad.” James couldn’t hold back his laughter.

“Ah, oh it’s not a cinnamon bun, boy” sirius tried to explain but the boy looked at the bun soap and up at his father again convinced that his father was indeed mad. Sirius couldn’t hold back a chuckle “It’s soap.. In the shape of a bun”

“Oh…” Zagreus said finally trying to make sense of his odd food experience. Sirius ruffled the boy's hair. “Here” the boy said and gave Sirius the bun and then wandered off back into the house.

On Sundays it's always pancake or waffle Sunday at the Black’s house and the pups demand having their favorite fruit as a side. Atlas does a lot better with fruits and Sirius takes whatever wins he can get with the boy honestly. Blueberries are Atlas’ favourite fruit or well berry. However he doesn’t like fake fruit flavours in fact he hates them almost as much as he hates his sworn enemy... veggies.

Neo of course enjoys the sweet strawberries and often gets her way which means ice cream instead of whipped cream.

Zagreus loves pomegranates which doesn’t really go well with either pancakes or waffles but he is determined to have it anyway.

[babyjakes]

softie | 2. little house tour.

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summary | ransom drysdale is the last person anyone would suspect to be a doting father. but when a paternity test reveals his relation to four year old georgia pine, the man finds himself turning into quite the softie for the peculiar little girl who’s been in such desperate need of his love and care.

characters | soft!dad!ransom drysdale, georgia pine (original character)

warnings | mature themes related to child abuse/neglect, ptsd/trauma symptoms in a child (developmental discrepancies, de-humanized behavior, detachment, extreme fears). loss(mother) and gain(father) of custody. unknown/secret child trope. soft!ransom, soft!dad!ransom. lots of hurt/comfort.

“Alrighty you two,” Julie says as she stands before the man and the child in the sliding glass doorway to the home. “Anything else we need to settle before I take off? I believe we covered everything important…” the woman trails off in thought.

“We’re good, thanks,” Ransom states simply, wanting more than anything to just get the annoying young lady out of their hair. Georgia stands silently with the two adults, her big brown eyes fixated on the reddish bricks covering the ground.

“You have the sheet I sent you covering all the basics, right? Meals, bedtime, things she likes to-”

“Printed out and waiting for us on the kitchen counter,” Ransom assures her before she can even finish her sentence. Huffing in what appears to be slight frustration at Ransom’s shortness, Julie nods, sucking in a deep breath before crouching down before the small child beside him.

“Georgia, sweetheart?” the blonde woman calls, causing the little brunette to glance up at her gingerly. With a soft smile, Julie continues, “Everything’s settled now, lovie, so I’m gonna get going back to the center. You’ve got all of your things, and Ransom here’s got a whole packet of info to help him out for these first few days; you two should be just fine.”

Shifting on his feet impatiently, Ransom watches as the tiny thing nods, trying to ignore the tears that have once again built up in her eyes. Kids, he thinks to himself with a slight shake of the head. Little shits cry about everything.

“You’re gonna be alright, sweetie,” Julie soothes with a hint of sadness appearing in her kind eyes, appearing to sense the little one’s apprehension, “and if you need anything, you just ask Ransom for the phone and call the number on my card. You still have it tucked in your book?” Georgia nods again, causing the social worker’s smile to widen. “Good. Well then,” she clears her throat, rising back up to her feet. “I hope you two have a wonderful time together!”

“Thanks,” Ransom nods flatly, earning a small wave from the lady before she turns and heads back down the walkway. Glancing down at the child below him, he takes in a long breath. Georgia’s eyes have fallen back to the ground, her little feet kicking slightly at the gap in the bricks with her scuffed ballet flats. What a mess, Ransom judges silently as he takes a moment to soak in the child’s appearance. Her olive green coat is at least a few sizes too big for her, the fabric torn in several places over her tiny frame. Her boney legs are covered by a pair of gray leggings, also looking to be littered with holes. Her white shoes are muddied and all but coming apart, the seams fraying at every edge. Gonna need some new clothes. Maybe a haircut, too, he notes, eyeing the little girl’s mess of brown waves.

“Well,” Ransom speaks awkwardly, trying not to roll his eyes when Georgia jumps at the sudden booming of his voice. “Should be fine to leave the car seat out here. Better get inside before we freeze,” he continues, pivoting around and sliding the door open behind them. Turning to follow the intimidating man’s gaze, Georgia peers through the tall glass pane, her eyes widening slightly at the interior of the house. “I know, probably nothing like you’re used to,” Ransom scoffs, imagining what the children’s home must’ve been like that the little girl spent the past month or so in. “Come on,” he insists as he leans down momentarily to grab the handle of the navy blue duffle bag at the child’s feet, “can’t stand out here all day.”

Gulping, Georgia looks up at him, causing the man to sigh. “Fine. Follow me then,” he grumbles, leading the way into the house. Seeming satisfied with not having to go first, the small girl follows, her head turning this way and that as she takes in the incredible home. “Guess I can give you a little house tour,” Ransom shrugs as he slides off his shoes carelessly, tossing the duffle bag over onto the cream-colored couch. Crouching down silently, Georgia unbuckles her own shoes, removing them sheepishly and placing them on the doormat before standing up again. Her eyes continue to wander as Ransom watches her, not sure if he should say more or just let her keep looking.

“Um, this is the living room,” he states, not sure what else to mention about the space. “Over there’s the dining room, though it never gets used,” he admits as he points to the extension of the house to his right. The little girl’s eyes follow his gesture, remaining quiet. “If you step in further, I can show you more,” the man tells her, smirking slightly as she immediately follows his instruction, her cheeks flushing a nervous pink. “Through there’s the kitchen,” he motions to his left as he begins making his way further into the secondary living space, “and over here are the stairs.”

Georgia’s socked feet pad softly against the floor as she follows him, her eyes trailing from the partially concealed kitchen over to the set of chairs in front of the fireplace. As soon as she catches sight of the tall brick fixture, her eyes swell, a terrible tremble rising up through her small body as she lets out a squeak.

Alarmed by the sound, Ransom’s eyes fall back on the child, his brow slanting in confusion and slight annoyance as he asks, “What is it?” Georgia’s bottom lip quivers as her gaze remains glued to the mantle, the tears welling in her eyes confusing the grumpy man even further. “Come on kid, spit it out,” Ransom snaps, the tone of his voice making her jump.

She peers up at him for a moment, the terrified expression on her face as she stares at him stirring unfamiliar emotions in his stomach before her eyes dart back over to the front door. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Ransom warns, his words coming out darker than even he intended. “Look, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong,” he presses. The little girl’s eyes fall to the floor in front of her as tears roll down her cheeks. “Georgia,” the man sighs impatiently.

Choking on her syllables as she begins to speak for the first time since meeting Ransom, the child begins to stammer in a pitiful voice, “P-p-poker… h-hot… burn m-me?”

“What? Burn you? No,” he replies incredulously, “Why the hell would I do that?” As he continues to watch the small girl panic quietly, an uncomfortable sense of guilt begins buzzing in Ransom’s throat. Probably should’ve read the report, he thinks to himself, could’ve covered it up with a sheet or something if I’d known it was gonna be an issue-

Wait. Would he have, though? Ransom Drysdale knows himself better than anyone; he knows he isn’t someone to go out of his way to make others comfortable. So why am I thinking that way, he asks himself. Sighing, he shakes his head. Whatever, he concludes, she’ll get over it.

“Georgia. I’m not gonna burn you with the fire iron,” Ransom deadpans, “so quit crying. I never light the thing, anyway. It’s just for decoration.” At his command, the little girl attempts to dry her eyes, sniffling weakly. Letting out an exasperated sigh, Ransom continues, “Come on, enough with it. You just got here; you can’t seriously be having a meltdown already.” Nodding shamefully, Georgia rubs the rest of her tears away, her eyes now puffy and red.

The brown-haired man runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head again in irritation. “Here, I’ll show you the upstairs,” Ransom decides, dismissing the fireplace situation entirely and making his way over to the beginning of the steps. Glancing back, he notices the child hasn’t moved an inch from her spot on the carpet. “You coming or what?” he asks.

Wincing at the sharpness of his voice, Georgia quickly falls in line behind him. “Jesus,” Ransom curses under his breath as he starts up the stairs, unable to believe how terribly things have managed to go in just the short period of time since the girl arrived. “Alright,” he says as they reach the landing. “Not much to see up here. This room’s mine,” he states as he motions to the first door on the left. “Washroom,” he points to the door in the middle, “and the guest room,” he concludes with the last. “Any questions?”

Keeping her gaze down, Georgia shakes her head, the sight of her standing still somewhat nervously before him causing yet another unfamiliar emotion to surface within Ransom: pity. “I-I’ll show you the guest room later,” he says quickly, doing his best to shake off the unwanted feeling. “Let’s go back downstairs for now. It’s almost dinnertime.”

Looking up slightly at the man’s words, Georgia’s eyes droop as she blinks through her heavy lashes. Ransom nods his head toward the stairs, expecting the child to do as he’s instructed. Instead, though, she hesitates, causing him to sigh. “What, need me to go first?” he all but groans. Biting her lower lip to keep it from trembling, Georgia nods. Letting out a breathy exhale, the vexed man rolls his eyes. “Fine,” he mutters as he steps back to the stairs, having to bite his tongue to keep quiet when the little girl flinches at his momentary closeness.

“What the hell have I gotten myself into?” he mumbles as they make their way back down into the living room, beginning to scold himself when he realizes that the kid might’ve heard. But then he halts, reminding himself, no, I don’t care. So what if she heard? It would be best if she did; maybe then she’d pull herself together.

And as they both reach the bottom of the staircase, Ransom does his best to convince himself he believes it.

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[system-to-the-madness]

Question - Pin Hawthorne x  Reader

Pairing: Pin Hawthorne x fem!Reader Genre: hurt/comfort & fluff Summary: While you study, Pin tries to find the courage to ask you to the Mistletoe Ball Warning: Jealousy, I guess. Stressed reader, if that needs a warning. Word Count: 2 387 A/N: I wrote this last week, instead of learning my Japanese vocabulary. In my defence: it was 9:10pm, and i had less than two and a half hours of breaks since 8:30am that morning. And just now I basically rewrote it all. Oops.

Cold wind carried snowflakes past your window and out into the night. It was mid-December, and with Christmas just one week away, you were so stressed, that you could not even appreciate the view. School work was piling up, countless tests the teachers insisted on writing before the holidays adding to the stress. For you it was even worse this year, since you were not even staying in your own home, with your aunt, who you lived with. Just last month she had had an accident, and was now on the mainland for treatment. So your best friend Pin had convinced his father to allow you to stay with them. They had cleaned out the little guest room on the second floor, right below Pin’s room, and made sure you felt as much at home as possible. The house on top of the cliffs offered the most amazing view over both the sea and the island. From your room you had a great view onto the ocean. But now thick snowflakes were making it hard to see further than the edge of the cliff. Besides, it was night anyway, and without the light of the moon the darkness was absolute out here.

You focused your tired eyes back on the book in front of you. You studied Japanese as an elective, and your teacher had suggested the class should try an official test right before Christmas, so that you had one more additional test to write, stressing you out even more, causing anxiety to slowly but surely creep in. So much that you studied even past your preferred bedtime. Now the desk right underneath the window was crammed with your text book, a few notebooks, vocabulary cards, a workbook and a plethora of pens and markers in different colours.

Quietly you sighed. Over the day, you tried hiding how worn out and anxious you felt, but by now even Ted, Pin’s father, had taken notice of your distress, even though you hardly spent any time around each other, mostly just for the meals. Now he often tried cheering you up with cookies and tea whenever Pin and you returned from school.

But as if school was not stressful enough already, there was also the Mistletoe Ball approaching. The same Mistletoe Ball Mia had announced on not doing this year because it was expensive and very stressful. But as soon as Zoe, who had moved back to America after the summer holidays, had announced she would come to visit for Christmas, the Ball had been back on the schedule. Which meant that you, as the stable hand, would have to take care of organising about 90% of it. All in all you did not know what annoyed you most: that the prom had been reintroduced, that it had been reintroduced because of Zoe, that you had to take care of it, or that Zoe was coming at all.

Zoe and you had never been close. Not that you disliked her, but she was not your type of person, and you were not hers. It would have been fine like that, if it had not been for her and Pin having grown very close over the time she had spent on the island. Of course you were Pin’s best friend, and you knew you should be happy for him when he found someone he liked, who liked him back. But you could not stop the bitter taste of jealousy every time someone mentioned Zoe.

Sometimes you even heard Pin at night, his muffled voice sounding from upstairs, when he was on a video call with Zoe. The mornings after, he always seemed so much more cheerful. It stung, knowing someone else made him smile like that, and you wondered if you too, would one day make someone smile the way he did, when they talked about you, even if it would not be Pin.

But your feelings of jealousy did not change the fact that you had to organise the Ball. You had started redecorating last week already, even though the event was just right at the 24rd of December, but you had to start as early as possible if you wanted things to turn out nice (everything else would mean endless bickering from Mia for screwing up her Ball). At least you had already ordered catering for the evening, and the last decorations were supposed to arrive tomorrow.

For a long time you had thought about the matter of what to wear on that evening, but if you were honest, you did not have many choices. The dress you had worn to the Ball in summer was too light, and you would freeze in it, and you did not have enough money to buy a new one. So you would wear the long, white one from last year, with white being the colour Mia had asked all the ladies to wear. But if you were honest: You really liked that dress, almost feeling like a princess every time you got to wear it. Only that you were lacking a prince. Ever since you had been old enough to go to the Ball, you had wished Pin would ask you. But every time the riders of Bright Fields had attended either as a group of friends, or, like last year, Pin and Zoe had gone together.

That evening last year had been miserable for you, since you had feared any look into the crowd might surprise you with the unwanted sight of the two of them kissing (which had luckily not happened). And you really were not looking forward to repeating the nauseous feeling in your stomach for a whole evening this year. But it did not look like you had much of a choice.

Shaking your head, you forced your eyes back on the text book in front of you, rereading the last sentence, trying to make sense of the foreign signs.

You were so focused on your work, that you did not even hear Pin approach your room. You had left the door to the guest room open, like always when you were studying. The house was quiet usually, so nobody disturbed you, but you also felt like it was impolite to keep the door closed all the time; you were a guest here after all.

Now Pin leant against the door frame, and watched you for a moment. He knew he should not, but you just looked too cute, hunched over your work like that. Your fingers were following the lines you were reading, occasionally you mumbled out a word, or made a little sound of understanding. Then you picked up a marker, and tried scribbling something into your notebook, only to sigh, throw the marker back to the others and pick up a pen. After you had finished writing whatever you had intended to, you twirled the pen between your fingers, and chewed on your lower lip.

Pin took in all of these details, your fingers restlessly playing around, your furrowed eyebrows, the rebellious strands of hair that hung into your forehead, the turtleneck sweater you were cuddled into. Secretly Pin wondered what you would look like wearing one of his hoodies. Probably too adorable. What had Zoe told him just the day before yesterday? “I’m sure (Y/n)’d love it if you’d share your clothes with her. All girls love it when a guy gives them their clothes, especially if they like him as much as she likes you.” The only problem was that you always seemed to be perfectly prepared for any weather, and he had never gotten the opportunity to offer you one of his jackets.

As if you had read his thoughts, you rubbed your hands together in that moment. Before pulling the sleeves over your knuckles, you rubbed your eyes, then picked up a pencil, and noted something down again.

Pin fought an internal battle with himself. He had come to your room because of a topic he had wanted to talk to you about this ever since it had been announced that the Mistletoe Ball would be held again this year, and even though you were literally living in the same house, eating all meals at the same table as him, he had not yet found the courage to talk to you. How was he supposed to start?

His thoughts got interrupted by the observation that you pulled up your shoulders, and folded your arms over your chest, making yourself smaller, while you went back to reading in the textbook.

“Are you cold?”

The question had left Pin’s lips without his intention, and a soft smile pulled at his lips when you turned around to look at him.

“Just tired, I guess.”

You smiled back. Dear god, you did look tired, dark circles underneath your eyes.

“You sure it’s not a bit chilly in here,” Pin wondered, taking a single step into your room to place his hand on the radiator. It was perfectly warm.

“Oh, it’s fine. I probably just need sleep,” you sighed, and ran your hand over your face.

“If you’re cold, you can have my hoodie,” Pin offered quickly, realising such a chance would not come again anytime soon.

“It’s fine, I-”

But Pin had already shrugged off the hoodie, and held it out to you.

For a moment you fought with yourself. If you took it, you might allow yourself to believe that it meant something. But it just looked too soft to resist, so you took the hoodie, and quickly slipped it on. It was still warm and smelled of Pin.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, averting your gaze from his shyly. “What time is it anyway?”

“Just past eleven pm,” Pin answered, and you groaned.

“Uh, I wanted to get up early tomorrow,” you said and threw the textbook a glance. “But I still got like… three more pages.”

“Maybe you should call it a night anyway,” Pin suggested, “you won’t remember any of this tomorrow if you don’t sleep enough.”

“And what about you, Mister,” you deflected his suggestion. “Why are you still sneaking around?”

Pin grinned at the teasing name you had called him.

“I just wanted to make sure you’re fine,” he lied, not having found the courage to ask you what he had come here for.

“Fine looks different, but I appreciate the sentiment,” you said. “Well then. I don’t want to keep you. Good night, Pin.”

“Good night. Don’t stay up for too long.”

You snorted and turned back to your desk.

“Good joke.”

Pin was almost out of your room when he stopped. If he would let this chance of asking you now slip through his fingers, he would beat himself up for it forever. It was the perfect moment! You were even wearing his hoodie (and god, did you look cute in it).

“Actually, one more thing.”

With raised eyebrows you swivelled your chair around to face him.

“Who are you going to the Ball with?”

Surprised you furrowed your brows.

“Same as any prom,” you answered. “On my own.”

“Well, you see...” Pin nervously shifted his weight from one leg to the other and back. “I thought, maybe we could go together this year. The two of us. Not as- not as friends. As like… a date?”

You stared at him for a moment, frozen in shock at his words.

“What about Zoe,” you asked, instead of answering him.

“What about her?”

“Don’t you wanna go with her?”

“Why would I? I wanna go with you.”

You kept staring at Pin, your lips unable to just tell him that you wanted nothing more than to go to that stupid Ball with him.

“I mean, if you don’t want to that’s perfectly fi-”

“No,” you interrupted him. “I mean, yes. I’d love to go with you.”

Pin’s expression brightened immediately. “Really? As a real date?”

Instead of answering you nodded, pressing your lips together in an attempt to suppress the bright smile that was creeping up on your face, but feeling how your cheeks were glowing anyway.

“I really thought you’d say no, there for a moment,” Pin smiled, embarrassed.

“No, I just thought, you’d go with Zoe-”

“Zoe was the one who convinced me to finally ask you,” Pin laughed. “She said she’d be sure you’d say yes. Otherwise I’d’ve never had the courage to ask you, and instead gone with her again, and spent the whole evening watching you, too shy to actually ask you to dance.”

“Excuse me, what?” You blinked in surprise at his words, not sure if you had heard him correctly. He had watched you during a previous Ball, but been too shy to ask you to dance?

“Nothing, forget it,” Pin rubbed the back on his neck. “Just- I can’t wait for the Ball, to go there, with you.”

“Neither can I,” you smiled.

“Well, good night then,” Pin said, and turned around, almost bumping into the door frame, causing you to giggle.

“Good night,” you grinned, “get upstairs safely!”

Pin looked over his shoulder, shooting you a mocking glare, and disappeared in the dark, his bright smile etched into your memory for forever.

Only when the even rhythm of his steps had faded, you eventually turned back to your book, and released a breath you had not realised you had been holding. Had Pin really just asked you to go to the Mistletoe Ball with him, as his date? You tried to focus on your studies again, but your thoughts kept drifting off to Pin again and again, so you soon decided to go to bed.

If what Pin had said, that Zoe had been the one to encourage him to ask you out, was true, you owed her one.

Lying in bed, cuddled into your blanket, you smiled to yourself. No matter all the tests and the stress the next week would bring, Christmas Eve with the Mistletoe Ball could not come quickly enough now. You fell asleep, wondering if Pin would even dance with you, not knowing that one floor above you, he had plucked in his headphones and was practicing the steps to a waltz, hoping he would not make a complete fool out of himself when he asked you to dance at the Mistletoe Ball.

Picture Sources: Papers with Pen, Sea with Rocks, Beach, Notes, Books, Freddy Carter, Backs of Books

[hualianff]

Found

Thinking about pack alpha HC whose territory is so far north, hardly any other packs visit or travel to it because the weather is unnaturally unbearable. Then, during one of the coldest nights of winter, a wolf and a pup wind up at the border, passed out from exhaustion. Neither of them bears a pack scent.

They are rogues.

It’s incredibly uncommon for rogues to venture into Crimson Moon territory, partially because it’s not easy to find within a massive forest and partially because HC’s reputation isn’t very forthcoming. The wolves who are granted permission to stay in the pack usually have important skills to contribute to help make it through the winter. Yet, despite his strict and distant demeanor, HC is fully dedicated to leading and taking care of his pack. 

Upon seeing the way the pup is nestled protectively under the adult wolf’s body, HX–the leader of the patrol squad–decides to shelter them for the night. He also provides warm soup and washing supplies for the weak rogues. The adult beta bows nonstop in gratitude before tending to his pup with unbridled affection. HX’s heart is somewhat more at peace, though he dreads having to ask HC what to do with them the next day.

***

XL has only heard of the Crimson Moon pack among hushed whispers in random caverns. Traveling for the past few years has not been easy, especially with a young wolf like Banyue. But when he had found her on the brink of starvation in a ditch on the side of the road, XL had promised to keep her safe above all things.

Now, XL carries the burden of his past along with the responsibility of raising BY. But he wouldn’t want it any other way. Thus, when XL finds him and his pup welcomed into the Crimson Moon pack by the courteous head alpha, XL gratefully prays to the heavens for letting him see another day.

Months pass. XL and BY live a much more comfortable life with guaranteed food, a heated home, and plenty of healthy social interaction. Additionally, they are never deprived of HC’s attention, the head alpha always making time to see them. 

XL doesn’t dare let himself hope for permanence. He’s faced so much rejection, disappointment, and betrayal in the past. With the “we will stay until winter passes” mentality, XL is prepared to leave, not wanting to overstep boundaries with HC.

The bond between a child and a single parent is extremely special. It can be complicated to make room for a third relationship with another parental figure. With HC, however, it’s almost too simple.

HC naturally treats both XL and BY as respected and autonomous individuals. He knows they don’t require his presence to function, but that doesn’t stop the alpha from offering his assistance whenever needed. Or wanted. With no further expectations besides...companionship. 

Before, XL never could have predicted how attached BY would be to HC, and vice versa. But given what he knows now, he shouldn’t be surprised. HC is undoubtedly a wonderful alpha. Oh, how XL wants, and wants, and wants...

***

HC doesn’t know what it is about this particular beta and his pup. For the first time since adhering to his father’s harsh mental and physical conditioning, HC can’t seem to control his wolf’s instincts.

Every time he sees XL and BY rolling around in the snow or sharing a meal happily, the head alpha’s heart positively melts. During his pack leader duties, HC will find himself thinking about how XL and BY are–if they’re safe, if they’re enjoying themselves, if they have everything they need.

It’s as if they add a completely new purpose to HC’s life. He must protecc.

It happens when they’re all in their wolf forms playing a light-hearted game of tag. It’s getting late, just about BY’s bedtime. XL delicately picks her up by her nape and carries her over to HC. XL plops his tiny pup in front of HC expectantly, eyes gleaming with an ample amount of trust. 

HC, realizing how significant this action is, doesn’t hesitate to nuzzle BY’s head, softly scenting her. Then, he picks her up himself and heads towards the cabin where XL and BY stay. 

XL had given HC the first of many opportunities to take care of BY as his own, starting by coddling her and putting her to bed. HC feels like the luckiest person in the world. 

Once spring arrives, HC finds himself visiting XL and BY’s cabin for dinner for what seems like the hundredth time. All three of them sit in front of the fireplace. XL and BY are both snuggled up against both sides of HC. BY eventually crawls into HC’s lap, falling into a peaceful sleep.

XL himself is drifting off against HC’s shoulder. Sluggishly, XL mumbles something along the lines about how he’ll never be able to repay HC for everything he’s done for them. HC strokes XL’s hair while murmuring delicately: “You can stay with me. That is enough.”

XL gently squeezes HC’s hand. 

***

Because XL spent so many years in survival mode, his omega went into hibernation. Nearly a year into his and BY’s stay in Crimson Moon pack, XL gains his scent back. His senses also sharpen once his wolf realizes he is safe from the dangerous encounters with other wolves and mother nature’s unforgiving conditions.

XL suddenly craves physical affection from HC. Though he’s a bit unsure of how to ask for it since it’s been so long since he’s been truly hugged (before HC), much less being scented. But HC completely understands, sometimes without XL even having to tell him. The alpha makes sure XL sees the best healer in the pack to track his progress and stays by XL’s side in support of his recovery process.

XL also gains his heat back–an overwhelming development. Thankfully, HC resolutely supports him from the side, committed to prioritizing XL’s needs and comfort. HC is more than happy to provide the best cuddles and kisses for his mate.

It gives baby BY a scare when her baba, along with HC, is absent for a few days. While she is too young to fully understand heat cycles and such, XL makes sure to emphasize that he was having adult troubles and HC helped him through everything. 

Later, BY rewards HC with ferocious leg hugs and smol wolf tackles. HC makes sure to fall down onto his back to let BY climb on top and wiggle in triumph. 

***

One time, when XL fell asleep against HC, he was having a nightmare he couldn’t wake up from. HC didn’t know what to do! XL was violently shaking in his arms, whimpering and crying with no way of calming himself down. Thus, HC, on a whim, decided to gather XL up and press him into an embrace, humming a low tune while a deep rumbling instinctively sounds in his chest. 

HC has never purred before. This was his first time.

(XL, feeling anxious all day. When HC returns home, he’ll latch onto HC while nosing his neck.

XL: “Do the thing.”

HC: *purrs happily*

XL: 😇)

***

BY, an ever-so-observant pup, practices what she’s learned from the bestest, smartest, and funniest father. She yips for HC to come over when they are in their wolf forms. She curiously noses at the snow, then glances up at the alpha with puppy eyes. HC indulges her, of course, leaning down to inspect the empty spot-?

Splat!

BY wickedly flicks snow up with her paw onto HC’s snout before bounding away. HC shakes his head in surprise, freezing snow currently lodged up his nose.

HC whirls around to capture his tiny culprit. He’s met with the sight of BY crouching behind XL, gnawing harmlessly at his tail. HC huffs, approaching defeatedly while BY, the little brat, merely sticks out her tongue. HC lays down beside XL, bumping cheeks with the omega and wrapping his tail protectively around their pup.

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝐃𝐚𝐝! 𝐀𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳: 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲'𝐬 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬

❥𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓗𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓳𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓰

"What even are you doing Mingi?"

Hongjoong questioned when the taller boy randomly picked up his son from the carrier and proceeded to take him inside the recording booth.

"I'm bored and we got writer's block. So I'm trying to have a little fun."

Lifting the boy up so his tiny mouth could reach the microphone, Mingi looked back at Hongjoong.

"Try recording his little babbles and let's make it into your alarm ringtone since obviously his cries are the only way to get you to wake up." He teased the leader.

Hongjoong was about to retaliate, but ultimately opted not to. Obliging instead to the request, he put on his headphones and pressed the live button. Mingi gently bounced the baby in his arms, making him emit tiny giggles and squeals.

"Ok that is pretty adorable." Hongjoong smiled fondly.

Mingi began making faces at the boy and raised his voice in a higher pitch.

"Can you say a few words? Like Uncle Mingi is the best? Or I love Uncle Mingi more than his Dada?"

The boy looked at Mingi in puzzlement.

"Yeah. You love me more than Dada." He repeated, puffing his cheeks out and pointing to Hongjoong who was just rolling his eyes by now.

The baby looked over at Hongjoong before blurting out the softest "Da..Da."

Hongjoong fell out of his chair and scrambled to get up to run inside the booth. Taking the baby away from Mingi, he held his face close.

"Can you say that again? Just one more time. I need to get that recorded right now."

❥𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓢𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝔀𝓪

Seonghwa let out a series of noises as he carefully fed his daughter in front of him.

"Babe, you're doing that again." You told him as you continued whisking the pancake mix.

"Doing what?" He hardly payed attention to your question though as he continued to play around with the spoon in his hand, making it swirl around in the air while mimicking airplane sounds.

"Acting more like a baby than our actual baby." You snorted.

"No one's more babier than our little baby. She just likes playing around during eating time."

Seonghwa held the spoon close to her mouth, allowing her to take it into her mouth, some of it spilling on her chin as she munched it down at an alarmingly fast pace.

"Ok hold on there. Eat a little more slowly babygirl. Geez for a tiny thing, you sure have a big appetite."

When he pulled away the spoon, she started whining, upset at having her meal taken away from her. Her tiny eyebrows furrowed and her puree covered lips pouted in discontent.

"Oh look. She turned into an angry bird." You chuckled at her frowning face.

"It's not her fault she loves food."

When he held up the spoon again, her eyes widened and she began squirming around.

"You want more? Want more Num Num?" Seonghwa used the term that always seemed to get a reaction from her.

"Num num!" She squealed out of nowhere.

Seonghwa dropped the puree filled spoon on the table, not caring that he made a mess as he began freaking out over her first words.

"OH MY GOD Y/N! DID YOU HEAR HER?! SHE SAID HER FIRST WORDS! NUM NUM!"

Right away, she repeated after him when she heard the word again, making him lose it even more.

"Seonghwa.......num num isn't an actual word though....it's more like an onomatopoeia.."

But he was not listening to you.

❥𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸

You held your daughter on your lap as the boys in front of you continued to practice their choreography ardently, her tiny figure loving it whenever you began bouncing her on your knee.

"Mingi!" Wooyoung screeched for the thousandth time.

"What?!" Mingi exclaimed, tired of being called out every 16 seconds.

"You're doing it wrong...again!" San joined in.

The other guys began groaning, some of them just dropping to the floor as they knew it would turn into another argument on who's right and who's wrong. Yunho looked over at you, shooting you an apologetic look as he had promised just one more run through and then you could both leave, but clearly that wasn't happening. You just smiled and grabbing your daughter's tiny hands, you waved them around, mimicking a show of support.

"Ok ok guys stop. Fighting will get us nowhere, so let's just go through it one more time so we can go home. Deal?" Hongjoong stepped in to put everyone in their place.

"Don't mess this up anymore Mingi. I got a scheduled cuddle session with Shiber that I can't be late for." San glared at him.

"I won't! Geez!" Mingi scoffed dramatically.

"Guys? Should we huddle up and shout 'hwaiting'?" Jongho suggested.

All of them immediately got together and placed one hand in the center.

"8 makes 1 team! Hwaiting!" They all shouted loudly.

Before they could press play on the music again, a tiny and excited 'hwaiting' made them all turn their heads towards you and the baby.

"Y/N......was that you or..?" Yunho looked at you with hopeful eyes.

You immediately shook your head and pointed at the tiny baby in your hands, who repeated what she said, a little jumbled, but still coherent.

Not just Yunho, but all of them started hollering and going insane over the baby's first words. Yunho rushed over and tried to get her to say more things.

"Ok now can you try and say daddy for me?"

❥𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓰

Yeosang poked a piece of chicken off the drumstick. Looking over at his son, he began to hold it towards his face, luckily you got there just in time to stop him.

"Yeosang!" You scolded him.

At your sharp tone, his fork slipped off his grip.

"I did nothing!" He held his hands up.

"Were you seriously about to feed our 1 year old chicken?" You exclaimed in disbelief.

"But honey! Look at him! He's hungry. What kind of father lets his child starve?" He pouted at you.

"Well here's an idea: why not get up and make him a bottle?" You suggested.

Yeosang looked at the baby and then back at you.

"Why not just pull your nipple out of your shirt and give him your milk?"

Seeing your widening eyes and wandering hands that were reaching for the nearest thing to throw at him, Yeosang immediately got up and went to the cabinets to start making a bottle.

"Geez! It was only a joke. No need to take it seriously. Besides...."

He snorted to himself before glancing back at you.

"It was pretty funny. Hehet."

You were going to say something back to him, but when your son repeated his father's 'hehet', you both stopped and stared at him before staring back at each other, silently asking each other if they heard right.

"Hehet." The boy answered your question when he said it again.

Yeosang came over, a smug smile on his face as he shook the baby bottle before lifting his son up in his arms. He kissed the top of his head and chuckled.

"Hehet. I knew you'd inherit my sense of humor."

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷

San waved the plushie in front of the boy's face.

"Shiiiiberrr." He spoke out once again, but the boy stayed unfazed.

"Ok ok, I get it. I'll go slower this time."

Clearing his throat, he shook the plush rather violently.

"Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiibbbbbbbbbeerrrr."

You cringed at San, inwardly regretting telling him about the fact that supposedly your son should have started talking by now, or at least babbling some words.

"San just give up. Maybe he's not ready yet."

But he wasn't going to be persuaded.

"No! I will get him to talk. Trust me on this, our son will soon say mommy or daddy or Shiber. Whichever comes first."

As San continued his attempts to get his son to mutter even a single word, your furry feline friend decided it would be a good idea to watch and proceeded to perch herself on the dresser right in front of your baby and San. Your son caught glimpse of his favorite bedtime buddy and began squealing, arms outstretched wanting to cuddle her.

"I'll give you the plushie once you say his name. Shiber." San offered.

You rolled your eyes.

"He doesn't want Shiber, he wants Byeol." You pointed out.

Having had his back turned, San whipped his head and saw Byeol staring him down.

"What? Byeol! Out I say! I'm still mad at you for getting your litter all over my clothes. Stop distracting my baby and get out!"

When the cat hissed at him when he tried to pick her up, San retreated.

"Byeol!" He warned her.

"B.....Bo....Byeol!" Your son finally spoke up.

You were so overjoyed at his words you immediately crouched in front of him, making sure to bring the cat with you.

"Yes! Yes! This is Byeol! Can you say her name again?"

The cat purred softly as the baby petted her ears before repeating her name, this time more clearly. San stood there looking shocked. Huffing softly, he crossed his arms.

"This doesn't mean you're off the hook Byeol."

❥𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲

Shifting the camera around, Mingi held it up towards you as you were currently playing around with your daughter who was in her little bouncer.

"And here we have the most beautiful creature to bless this earth."

You were about to let out an 'aww' at Mingi's words until he spoke up again.

"Honey could you please move aside so we can see the baby more clearly?"

Glaring at your husband, you picked up one of the tiny plushies surrounding your daughter and threw it at him, causing the baby to start laughing at her dad.

"Agression caught on camera!" He exclaimed as he faked being severely hurt by your actions.

You ignored him and turned your attention back to your daughter.

"Don't pay any attention to daddy. He's mean and bad." You cooed softly at her.

Mingi gasped dramatically, holding a hand over his mouth.

"Me? Bad?" He asked.

You nodded your head, not even bothering to look at him as you repeated yourself.

"Yes. Very very bad daddy." You tickled your daughter's feet.

"Bewy bad."

Both of you were surprised that your daughter said not 1, but 2 words, and it was even more surprising because it wasn't even time for her to start babbling just yet. Mingi sat down next to you, focusing the camera on her tiny face.

"Did you guys hear that?! She actually said 'bewy bad!" Mingi began squealing from excitement.

Not taking her eyes off Mingi, the baby began repeating herself.

"Bad.......bad...bad."

Mingi chuckled.

"Ok sweetheart, I get it. You can say bad, but maybe now try saying 'Dada'. Similar right?" He urged her to continue.

The baby simply picked up another toy and threw it at the camera.

"Bad!" She piped out.

Mingi now turned the camera to you.

"Look what you've done! Now she'll forever refer to me as 'bad'!" He huffed out.

"Ok but where's the lie though?" You teased him.

❥𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰

After the initial shock died down of hearing your daughter's first words, Wooyoung and you began screaming.

"She said her first words!" You cheered.

"I know! Wait! Was it a one time thing or...?"

Pressing his face in her view, Wooyoung intently stared at his baby.

"Repeat what you said. Mama." He told her.

Although it took her a while the second time, ultimately she said the word again, making you both applaud at her efforts. You were on the verge of crying at hearing your daughter call out for you for the very first time.

"Ok ok. Now.....say 'dada.' You know? As in your favorite parent? Dada." Wooyoung giggled at her.

"Mama." The girl said again.

"Yes yes, we get it. You can say mama, but now I want you to say dada ok?"

Wooyoung kept repeating the word over and over again, but each time the baby would instead say the one word she had learned so far. It was honestly hilarious watching Wooyoung get frustrated as his daughter refused to budge and instead continued to annoy him by saying mama instead of dada.

"Ok.....one last time. Da...da." Wooyoung went slower this time.

The baby took a tiny breath and Wooyoung actually got his hopes up but ultimately being let down.

"Mama." The baby squeaked.

Wooyoung began yelling in anger.

"Ya! The whole reason I wanted a girl was so that you could be daddy's little princess, not mommy's little pet! You're supposed to love me more! I'm the fun parent, your mom is supposed to be the one grounding you and forbidden you from doing fun things, how could you betray me like this?!"

Wooyoung wheezed violently after he got his rant out. The 10 month old just blinked at him, not understanding what caused him to be so agitated, but responded the only way she could.

"Mama."

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓙𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝓸

Jongho looked over at you every once in a while, chuckling at your seemingly futile attempts to get your son to say his first words, particularly, you wanted him to say "mommy" or "mama."

"Mommy." You repeated once again.

But the baby seemed more interested in his dad, watching him peel some apples and put them in a bowl. Normally he'd be splitting them in half, but since you were going to be baking an apple pie, you just needed them peeled at the moment.

"Baby. Please pay attention." You waved the rattle in his face to get him to look at you.

"Honey don't force him. There's still time. Besides you can't really trust everything google tells you." Jongho tried to comfort you.

But you weren't about to give up. You were hell bent on getting your son to call for you.

"Mama. Mama."

You pouted when the boy adamantly ignored you and just continued cooing softly at his father's movements.

"What? Do you prefer daddy over me?" You asked him, not really expecting him to answer.

"Da........deeee."

Jongho dropped the apple he was holding, eyes shooting up as he heard the baby's babble.

"Did....did he just say daddy?" He looked at you, but your son confirmed it once again for him.

"Daddeeee."

Jongho got up and went over to stand in front of your son, smiling proudly at him.

"Yes my little buddy. I'm your daddy and you just made me so happy."

He picked him up and kissed his cheek before stealing him away from you to spend more time with him.

"Ummm....we were having mother- son bonding time?" You told him.

"Well it's obvious he prefers my company."

Gifs not mine, credit goes to their respective owners.

[kiuda]

Fluff, fluff for you, I feel like fluff so here you go!

c!Dream having a cottagecore retirement after scaping, he is farder away than techno and the syndicate, there is a village he goes to sell baked goods that Niki teached him to make, he uses the clothes that Philza made for him and the little golden decorations in his hair where a gift from Techno, Ranboo and Enderboo visits him from time to time via teleport and sometimes even Michael (the baby) sends him drawings, he was a big garden, a smaller farm and many many pets

Fluff!! :D I do like fluff!!

I also like angst :)

warnings: nothing really bad? i think? but feel free to message me if you need any warnings!

/rp /dsmp

Everything was going great. He had a small house. A garden full of flowers and vegetables. (No potatoes. Never potatoes.)

His cat was sweet and fluffy. She liked napping in the sun during the day and sleeping on his lap during the long evenings.

He made things. He was able to bake thanks to Niki, even if his creations could never rival hers.

He made his own clothes, taking a special liking to knitting sweaters and blankets. Phil taught him everything he could before he went on his way.

He took care of the special little golden bands Techno woven in his hair when he was still staying with the Syndicate.

He still wrote. He loved writing. He wrote down stories from his past, turning them into simple bedtime stories for Michael. He wrote a lot of letters. Ones filled with words he would never be brave enough to say. Kept a diary. A tale of his own exile. Of his own end.

He was really happy. He was glad to live as an 'eccentric hermit' as the villagers liked to call him. He would be happy to die here one day.

He thought he was safe.

He should have never been foolish enough to think that.

They came in the middle of the day.

He was in his little kitchen, preparing some tea and a simple meal.

Hope was right beside him, demanding some food as well. He was laughing, telling her softly to wait.

A bang.

Crash.

The splash of a potion.

Suddenly he was on the floor.

Footsteps. Slow ones. Black boots. Leather shoes.

No.

No

NonononoonononoNONONONONONONONONOONON

NO

He knew those shoes. Those boots.

The trident that made a dent in his floor.

They were back.

He should have known.

(They take him back to Pandora. He doesn't resist. He can't. The potions are too strong.

He lies in the cell and reminisces. About Hope. About Arlo. About his garden. About the drawings Michael made for him. About the sweater he was making for him. One the would never finish.)

[cheekygreenty]

Little Witch - Part 18

The Darkling x Reader

The Winter Fete was fast approaching. The Little Palace was being cleaned up and stitched up in preparation and the seamstress unit was overwhelmed with orders of silk keftas and lavish gowns.

Aleksander was away at front lines on behalf of the Lantosv King again and you were buried up to your neck in work that would otherwise go to him. You pondered for much too long why he always left and you stayed. He constantly left for the camps and front-lines, tending to Grisha in the outposts and dealing with war duties while you were stuck in the confines of this very Palace, signing your name away and reading boring documents. From what you gathered though it had been the same before you arrived, your intelligence prevailing even now.

'You called for me Deputy?' An older Squaller loomed at your door, her greying hairs curling at the sides of her face.

'I did indeed, please sit.' You pointed towards the small sofa in the corner of your room and got up from your desk, heading for it too.

'I think it's about time I thanked you in person for everything you've done for me, Irina.' You picked up the sealed envelope sitting on the table and held it out to her.

'Is that what I think it is?' The older woman visibly teared up, a feathering touch on the envelope.

'I owe it to you and your mother, Irina. Take it.'

'This is so much more than we have given you.'

'Don't be fooled. , I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you.'

'Does he know?'

'Of course he doesn't. I keep my own affairs in order without him prying in.'

'Are you sure?' It struck you with a strangeness that you were much older than the Grisha in front of you and had nothing to show for it. You had seen her as a newborn baby cradled in her mother's arms all those years ago and yet you stood before her, the epitome of youth.

'Go. Live your life. It's all in there.' You gestured to the envelope. Irina looked at you just as her mother once did, a look of gratitude and hope. 'He may not be alive anymore but your girl is. So go, I beg of you.'

She stood up and hugged you tightly, quietly crying out of pure joy. You sushed her like you did when she was just a child.

'Go before I decide to keep you around.' You tried to lighten the mood, to say goodbye without having to actually say it. You knew deep down you would never see her again, and given the fact that her daughter was an otkazat'sya, you had no use for her either. Her life was far away from the Os Alta, you made sure of it and now her mother would get to join her and they could live out the rest of their days as a family.

'Y/N you will always be family. My mother made sure of it. I will always be here to serve you.'

'Go'

And she did, with the envelope clutched tightly in her hand, the daughter of your long-passed best friend walked out the door, ending your relationship with the Volkov Grisha.

You met Inessa Volkov during your very first year in the First-Army. She was a Squaller too, stationed at Kribirsk to aid skiff journeys. She was a firecracker, a feisty Zemeni woman who could both bark and bite and never relied solely on her small science.

It was most strange to see soldiers from opposite armies be friends, but Inessa would always swear she knew you were special. She followed you to the Little Palace, helped you evolve into the infamous witch the Fjerdan's began to fear, but her life hit a standstill when she got pregnant. Twins, the girl a Grisha, the boy an otkazat'sya.

Your position allowed for you to help the boy along in life, to prevent him from being dumped in an orphanage by the other Grisha. You gave him a life of happiness and content away from the buzz of capital and for that Inessa was indebted to you, even after your supposed death.

Irina only knew you as a character in her mother's bedtimes stories until you reached out. From then on, Irina served as one of your spies in the Palace while you stayed in the shadows watching Aleksander's moves from a long distance.

Irina was the last link you had to your old life apart from Aleksander and Baghra, of course. You were lucky she was powerful and could live a long life like her mother, but it still hurt to know she would die eventually and you would still be you. You were used to watching those around you die, Aleksander had prepared you for it unintentionally through his various stories and explained life adventures but the sting was still there.

You and Aleksander were on the same page when it came to Grisha abandoning the war effort, but you couldn't help yourself to not let Irina go. She had a daughter and grandkids that she deserved to spend time with in her old age.

No doubt Aleksander would throw up a fuss about a missing Grisha, but you had planned for it already. In the envelope was Irina's death certificate, the address of her daughter's abode, and all the information on her twin brother's family. You wouldn't tell him the truth ever, you would take it to the grave, if you even have to pleasantry to meet.

If he were to find out, with it would come the bubbling question of 'How many spies were there?' and there were too many to count. You had a looming presence and influence in the Palace long before you physically came back and no doubt he would be pissed that you got away with it.

'Deputy, are you to dine in the hall today or in your chambers?' The maid was looking at you and asking the same question she asked every night.

'I think I'll dine with the Grisha, thank you.'

Lately, you ate your dinners cold and in your office, eating only when you remembered the silver tray sitting idly on the table. When Aleksander comes back he's getting an earful and a stack of papers to read. That'll show him.

The hall was filled with pleasant chatter as you approached your seat. It no longer went quiet as you entered, instead a smile or two were sent your way when you noticed. Alina was sitting at her chair sulking over her plate as she usually did and Zoya was too busy eating to notice anything going on around her.

Your food was warm this time as you dug in, drinking the hefty meal down with kvas. You weren't privy to the conversation taking place around you as your thoughts were suddenly overtaken by him. You were never needy, but as of late you wanted to be near Aleksander at all times which was difficult since he wasn't here. The quick kiss he bestowed upon you before he entered his carriage did little to appease you. He never told you when he would be back, but you hoped he wouldn't miss the fete.

Alina was getting stronger, a messy report said that apparently something snapped in her and she grew in power almost overnight. Sometimes when you walked the Palace halls at night, you would catch glimpse of light coming out from under her door. She was growing confident and it suited her. You knew it wasn't any thanks to Baghra.

'Y/N'

'Hmm?' You looked up from your food to see who called you by your name and not your title and relaxed when your eyes caught Zoya's bored ones.

'Botkin asked me to ask you why you've been skipping your combat?' She looked around impassively as if this was the least of her problems but you knew she had nothing better to do given Aleksander's warning to her.

'Oh ummm, I've been busy.' You set your cutlery down and downed the rest of the kvas.

'A Grisha is never too busy to train, lazy perhaps.' You squinted up at the brunette with a false offense.

'Do you have something else to say to me Zoya?'

'I don't know what you mean.'

'Alright then if you say so.' You got up from your chair, coaxing her up from her own. 'Perhaps, your Deputy wants to train now. Should you care to join her?' You knew Zoya was an excellent Squaller, and an even better fighter but was she better than you?

You didn't miss the look of surprise on her face or the silent acceptance of the challenge as you both walked out of the hall, aiming for the training grounds.

'Don't worry about knocking me cold, the General doesn't speak for me.'

The spaces were empty, all Grisha being at dinner and Botkin seemingly busy too.

'I should hope so.'

If you looked at it from a subjective perspective, Inessa and Zoya were very alike. They both had that ruthless and vindictive aspect to their behavior paired with that sharp tongue and intelligent nature. They would've hated each other.

'Come on Nazyalensky, let's see what your made of.' You got into position, holding up your fists in front of you, ready to strike a blow if need be. You let her hit first, effortlessly dodging and ducking her punches and hooks. She was as fast as a bird in flight, swift and elegant. It impressed you, but unfortunately for her, it wasn't enough. You had her restrained in a matter of seconds, her arms behind her back and chest heaving against the wet ground.

'A worthy opponent. You're pretty good I must confess.' You let her go and stood up, adjusting your kefta around your waist.

'Again' You rolled your eyes at her inability to lose. Just like Inessa.

'Zoya, quit while your ahead. Besides I'm tired.'

'You do nothing all day, how can you be tired'

'Do you speak to the General the same way?'

'Only when he's not listening.' she joked and you actually laughed. It was refreshing to hear someone speak of him without that devout loyalty.

You walked back to the Palace, laughing and joking with the Squaller until you went your separate ways.

You didn't know what happened, but from that day onwards the rude Zoya Nazyalensky became a friend.

---------

Part 19

Contrary to popular belief, I would die for Zoya 😍🥰🥰

Taglist (tell me if you want to be added to the Little Witch taglist!!)

@theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @0-artemis @lostysworld @xceafh @fire-in-her-veinz @patdsinner33 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @wizardwheezes @aleksanderwh0r3 @tomhollandisabae @hotleaf-juice @justmesadgirl @exo-1204 @houseofdupree @oberonpascal @eireduchess @lunas1x1 @adoringb

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

Hold Me Close

John Constantine x Original Female Character, Angst/Hurt Comfort

A/N: So this little bit of self-indulgence turned into a thing, because it's me and of course it did. I'm still in the early stages of developing Evie and her relationships, so please let me know what you think.

Warning: Mentions of child neglect, lots of crying

Summary: After an emotionally draining day, Evie finds herself with some unexpected company.

Word Count: 2.6K

The Waverider was completely silent, a rarity on the best of days, and a blessed relief to Evie.

She sat in the kitchen, holding a warm cup of tea in her hands. She hadn't taken a single sip in the fifteen minutes since she made it.

All the emotions of the day were simmering to the surface. A tightness clung to her throat making it hard for her to breath. She needed to cry. She needed to sleep. She needed to scream. She needed so many things, all she could do was sit and stare into nothing.

"Are you ever going to drink that?"

Evie blinked. Looking up, she finally noticed John leaning against the doorway, fully dressed in his usual white shirt and tie.

"John? What time is it? Shouldn't you be asleep?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

She wanted to say something smart. On any other day she might have, but she was just too tired to be clever. Instead, she raised her mug to her lips and finally took a sip.

It was warm and did its job, loosening the lump in her throat, but it did little to help with the one in her chest.

"Need something stronger?" John suggested.

She shook her head. "This is about as strong as I can handle right now."

"Fair enough."

She expected that to be the end of it. But he surprised her, walking into the kitchen and pouring himself a drink.

"What are you doing?"

He shrugged. "Well, you know what they say, misery loves company."

"And what have you got to be miserable about?"

He gave her a cynical smile. "Oh don't you worry love, I’ll think of something."

He took a seat beside her and raised his glass in a toast.

Evie obliged, clicking her mug against the tumbler before drinking.

They sat in silence for a moment. It was comfortable, but there were questions hanging in the air that needed to be addressed.

"What are you doing here, John?"

"I told you."

She shot him a skeptical look.

He let out a sigh. "I don't sleep most nights. I saw you in here and..." He met her eyes, his expression softening. "I saw the look on your face when you saw your mum."

The tightness came back in her throat. Quickly, she turned back to her tea and took a long swig. All it did was stall the inevitable.

"How much did Michael tell you?" she asked, with a twist in her stomach.

"Not much," he admitted. "Just that his dad died before he knew him, didn't talk to his mum and that his sister was about the only parent he ever really had."

Evie huffed out a short laugh. It certainly sounded like the description Michael would give, and a more accurate one than she was willing to admit before.

"I take it there's a bit more to it than that," he continued.

She nodded. "Just a bit."

She took a drink, once again assuming a natural end to the conversation.

"You're just going to leave me with that?" he asked.

Her brow furrowed. "Why do you want to know?"

"You seem to know most everything about me, whether I like it or not,” he answered, casually. “I like to work on an even playing field."

Evie considered him for a moment. It seemed like a reasonable answer. Still she couldn't help but feel her problems were childish compared to his. There was a reason she kept them to herself. Nobody actually wanted to know.

She turned her head away, her fingers rubbing absentmindedly against the mug. If she kept her mouth shut for just a few moments, he'd forget the whole thing.

She could feel the pressure building behind her eyes. Her grip tightened. She willed herself to breathe.

"Evelyn..."

She stopped.

Looking down, she finally noticed rough fingers pressed gently around her wrist. She followed the line connecting the fingers to a hand, then to an arm, moving her gaze ever up until she dared a glance at the man they were attached to.

John’s expression was not soft, but his eyes held something she had not seen in a long time; a need to understand. How could she say no to that?

“My dad died when I was eight,” she began, swallowing the roughness of her voice. “My mum took it really hard. She might as well have been dead that first year. I’m not sure she even left her bed. Gran watched after her and didn’t want me or Michael causing trouble.

“Eventually though Mum was able to leave the house and Gran even got her a job at a pub not far from where we lived. But, it didn’t last long. Mum just...wasn’t there anymore. She’d forget to go into work or mess up orders or any number of other things until eventually they had to let her go. She didn’t work after that. Dad’s life insurance kept us afloat and Gran helped so, it wasn’t like we were starving. Even so, she would still...forget. By the time I was ten I was cooking most of the meals and made sure to stop by the shop on my way home from school, that sort of thing. And Mum would just...drift. It was like living with a ghost.”

Evie paused, giving herself a moment to collect her thoughts.

“I can remember my dad, before he died. I can see his face. I remember bedtime stories and how he called me his little Evie Rose. But, for whatever reason, any time I try to remember what my mum was like, I draw a blank. Every memory I have of her is as this...corpse. It was easy for me to believe she was always like that. I convinced myself she couldn’t help it. She didn’t choose not to be there. She was trying and I just needed to pick up where she couldn’t. That was my job.”

Her throat tightened. She sucked in a breath and let it out with a slow quaver.

“But seeing her today, before...everything. She was real. She was real and alive and...there.”

Warm tears spilled down her face. She wiped them away, trying and failing to keep them in check.

“I know grief affects people differently. I know it does. I can’t imagine losing the love of my life like that. But I was her child. Michael was just three years old. We were alive and scared and confused, and we needed her. I needed my Mom and she wouldn’t…”

There was no stopping the tears now. Anger and resentment and grief twenty six years in the making poured out of her. It burned her skin, even if she tried to hide it, ever aware of the man watching her in careful silence.

“I spent so long telling myself it wasn’t her fault. I blamed myself for not doing better by her. But she never cared. I know she was grieving, but at some point she decided her grief was more important than her own children.”

She stopped, forcing herself to fill her lungs with much needed air.

“And I would get so angry. I used to think Michael was just being selfish, that he only cared about himself. But he knew. He knew what she was doing was wrong. He just wanted me to see it too. God, I said so many awful things.”

Guilt weighed in her stomach as she pushed away her straggling tears. She could still feel the prickling behind her eyes, but she didn’t want to spill any more than she had. She had no right to them.

“I’m just a horrible mess of a person.”

A scoff came at her side.

She turned, to see John shaking his head.

“Something funny?”

“Aye, everything,” he said, sardonically. “Trust a Catholic to come to that conclusion.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh c’mon Evie, you’re not a horrible anything. You looked after your brother and your mum when no one else would. When you should have given up on her is a matter for yourself to deal with, but you’re not a bad person for holding out hope. As for Michael, I have a feeling he’s not as resentful as you think he is. Besides, he definitely had some of it coming.”

Evie couldn’t think of what to say, but the corner of her lip did quirk up, just a little. Still, guilt lingered and exhaustion was now taking the place of her anger. The prickling was back, reminding her of the tears still left to shed.

“Now, how about that drink,” John said.

Evie let out a long sigh, rubbing her hand across her face. "Not a bad idea. Honestly, what I could really go for is someone to just hold me for two or three...hours." She tried to make it sound like a joke, but the strain on her voice made her attempt at laughter come off as forced and awkward.

The look on John's face only made her feel worse. He had been uncharacteristically kind to her already. Now, she just made an embarrassing situation down right uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry I laid this all on you,” she said. “I should just go to bed.”

She stood quickly, not even bothering to grab her mug as she headed towards the exit.

She barely made it two steps when a hand grasped at her own.

“Wait.”

She turned.

He was still sitting. His eyes focused on their intertwined fingers. The expression on his face was unreadable. For a moment, she thought he’d let go and forget the whole thing. But then, he came to a decision.

Standing, he took a step toward her, never dropping his grip for a moment. He watched her, carefully checking she had no objections to how close he was.

Her stillness was his answer.

Reaching out his free hand, he cradled her head and guided her to him.

For a moment, neither of them knew what to do.

His hand slipped from hers, but found no place to land, as if he wasn't sure where exactly to touch her. All the same, the intent was felt.

Taking initiative, she leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder as she wrapped her arms around him.

His clothes still held the scent of detergent with just a bit the tobacco smoke she secretly loved. She let herself breathe it in, enjoying the warmth against her cheek and the firmness of his body.

Slowly his hands found purpose. One wrapped tight around her waist while the other curled gently in her hair.

For a while, they just stood there, neither of them daring to break the quiet calm that had settled in the air.

"It's alright Eves," John whispered into her ear. "I've got you, love. It's alright."

It was only then Evie realized she was crying again. The tears and emotions leaked out of her, spilling over the side like an over filled sink. She was starting to shake, trying and failing to keep her breath in check all the while John held on, pressing her even closer into him.

"You're alright," he promised. "I've got you, Eves. You're alright."

The tears weren’t as violent as before. This was catharsis. The last breath of emotional release she needed. So, she let herself feel.

She cried for her brother. She cried for her father. She cried for what might have been and what was. All of it came out in gentle sobs made bearable by the man who wouldn’t let go.

She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, but after a while she had nothing more to give. Her breath returned to something manageable. Her heart, no longer quiet as heavy. Still, she couldn’t pull away from John just yet. She was too tired and he felt too good. She could see herself closing her eyes and staying right there until her legs gave out.

“Not that I’ve got anywhere to be,” he said, gently. “But were you serious about the two to three hours thing?”

She laughed, a real one this time; short, but bright and welcome.

“No,” she assured. “I wouldn’t do that to your reputation.”

He didn’t say anything back, but she took the hint.

With a great effort, she pulled herself from him, leaving her skin colder for it. Now that she had a proper view, a sudden spike of embarrassment shot through her.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said, immediately reaching to brush away the obvious stain on his shirt.

John looked down as if just noticing himself.

“Oh believe me, I’ve been covered in worse. Besides, holy woman’s oughta be good for something.”

“I’m not that holy,” she said, with not as much annoyance as that sentence usually carried.

“But you are good,” he countered. “You can’t be anything else.”

Again, something was missing from this usual exchange. The irony had somehow disappeared. The way he was looking at her now, she could believe he meant them.

Then, something happened. His expression became pensive. His eyes shifted away as he took a small step back, putting some visible distance between them.

“You should get some sleep,” he said, his tone now back to its usual guarded self.

Her brow creased in confusion. “You sure you don’t want company?”

“I think if this whole exercise has taught us anything it’s that you need to stop worrying about other people all the time.”

His tone was curt, but there was something performative in it, making it land awkwardly on its intended audience.

All the same, Evie knew rejection when she heard it and felt the intended hurt in her chest.

Apparently it showed on her face as John gave a long sigh. “Look just, get some rest and you can worry about me tomorrow, yeah?”

She nodded, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave just yet. She didn’t know what she had done to make John’s mood shift so abruptly, but she needed to fix it. He had helped her, after all. It didn’t feel right to end the night like this.

With cautious determination, she took a step forward, effectively closing the gap he had created.

John appeared frozen in place, his brow creased in confusion.

Taking the opportunity, she stood on her toes and pressed her lips to his cheek. She was met with rough stubble and the smell of whiskey, a combination she was surprised to find she liked. But couldn’t appreciate it as John turned his head, meeting her eyes.

“Now, why would you do something like that?”

Evie swallowed, a sudden dryness coming to her throat. His lips were much closer to hers than she anticipated.

“I just wanted to say, thank you,” she said, softly. “You’re a good man, John Constantine.”

He looked down at her, his throat and lip tightening as he shook his head. “No, I’m not.”

She smiled knowingly. “Yes you are.”

She kissed his cheek again, this time lingering just a moment as if touch would convey the truth of her statement more than her words could.

“Goodnight, John,” she whispered.

To her surprise, he didn’t push her away. His eyes lingered, floating between her eyes and lips and back again.

She held her breath, wondering if he would lean down and feel her lips for himself. She wondered if she would let him.

But he hesitated. A breath was drawn in and his gaze settled on her eyes.

“Sweet dreams, Evie.”

She nodded, feeling the moment slip away as quickly as it had come.

She settled back down on two solid feet, turned and walked back to her room without looking back. Only when the door closed did she allow herself to linger on the burning of her lips and the hard thumping in her chest.

She didn’t know what truly happened between her and John, but there was no use denying it. Something was different and time would only tell what that meant.

[cellophanejpeg]

‘tis the damn season - part ii

gif by @pcdrospascals​​

Pairing: Frankie Morales x female!reader

Summary: A year after getting back together with Frankie, you get a lovely surprise.

a/n: requested by anon!! i hope you like it!!!

warnings: pregnancy related topics and food mentions

word count: 1.6k

masterlist | part i

...

Frankie opens the door to his house and the smell of dinner immediately reaches his nose. He smiles as his daughter runs to his encounter, a Wonder Woman tiara hanging from her head.

“Daddy, come!” She takes his hand and starts pulling him towards the kitchen, “Mommy, he's here! Dad's home!”

You're finishing setting the table when Isabella barges her way to the kitchen, pulling Frankie by the hand.

“Can we have the cookies now?” She asks, lacing her fingers together to beg you.

“How about after dinner?” You suggest, as you walk to Frankie and give him a kiss on the lips. He frowns confused at you as Isabella whines and slumps her shoulders.

“But you said when daddy came home…”

“I know, honey, but if you eat them now, you're going to ruin your appetite,” you tell her as you kneel to be on her height, “Remember what I told you what we need nutrients for?”

“To grow big and strong!” She exclaims, trying to flex her muscles, “Like Wonder Woman!”

“Exactly!” You exclaim back and look at Frankie whose adoring eyes are watching you. But as soon as his eyes leave yours, he looks back at his surroundings, eyeing the kitchen with a frown on his face. The counter is filled with batches of your famous sugar cookies, some already decorated, some fresh out of the oven. Some are even missing from the trays.

“Christmas cookies?” He asks you, “In January?

You just sigh, snaking your arms through his shoulders and wrapping them around his neck, “I may have gone overboard, but I wanted to make tonight special.”

“Why?” He smiles at you as you press your body against his.

Shrugging, you let go of him, being as cryptic as you can, “You’ll see.”

The three of you sit down for dinner, Isabella tells about her day in school with excitement and Frankie indulges in the conversation, encouraging her to keep talking as they eat.

“Do you want to try the tomato today?” You ask her, stabbing a slice of tomato with your fork and showing it to her. The little girl pouts and shakes her head.

“I don’t like tomato,” she says matter of factly.

“I know, but… Just one slice?” You insist, “Look, daddy’s eating too!”

Isabella looks at Frankie who’s watching the scene unfold as he nods, showing her the tomatoes on his plate. She seems to think for a moment and then caves in, allowing you to slip a slice of tomato on her plate.

Before you came back to his life, Frankie couldn’t manage his time right. Isabella would stay with a babysitter after school and even then she wouldn’t eat a proper dinner, contenting herself with frozen food every night. When you moved in with them, you started cooking healthy meals and teaching her how to eat healthier. Frankie’s heart warms at the thought, both him and Bella were lost before you. You’re such a great mom to her, it makes him love you even more.

After dinner, Frankie helps you clear the table, putting the dirty plates in the sink and moving to wash them. Your hands come to hold his as soon as he turns the faucet on, making him look at you, confused.

“We have a surprise for you,” you say with a soft voice, turning the faucet off and gently pulling him back to the dinner table. On top of it, there's a package, wrapped up in Christmas wrapping paper.

“Is it my birthday?” He jokes, sitting back down on his seat.

“Well, consider this a late Christmas gift.” You sit beside him as Isabella runs to sit on your lap, sugar cookies already in hands, “Read the card first.”

Frankie chuckles as he takes the card from the top of the box and opens it to read it.

'Tis not the damn season anymore, but Santa has one more present for you.

He smiles, biting his lower lip as he tears the wrapping paper and opens the box without ceremony. Inside, he sees some of your cookies on top of the paper strips that fill the empty space on the box and under all that, there's something wrapped in tissue paper. Frankie takes the plastic stick and unwraps it.

Then, the smile drops from his face. He looks at you with wide eyes and finds you smiling expectantly at him.

“Does this mean–” He chokes out, feeling tears watering his eyes, “You're–” He shows you the pregnancy test with two blue lines on it.

“Yes,” you tell him before he can't finish, “Yes, Frankie, I'm pregnant.”

Frankie lets out a sob, letting the tears roll down his cheeks as he covers his face with his hands. You grab his shoulder with a hand, rubbing your thumb on the fabric of his shirt.

“Daddy?” Isabella's worried voice reaches both of your ears, “What's wrong?”

“Nothing–” He tries to speak, “I’m just–”

“Daddy is just too happy,” you explain, looking at her, “he can't contain himself.”

“Why?”

“Because, peanut,” Frankie chimes in leaning to press his lips on her forehead, “you're going to be a big sister!”

Isabella gasps, her little eyes widening, “What?! Really?!”

You laugh as Frankie gives you a kiss on the lips; you taste the salty tears on his lips, and he stands you evolve his girls in a tight hug.

“Really, honey,” he says, after letting you both go, and taking Bella in his arms, “aren’t you excited?”

“Yes, I am!” She nearly screams, making you both laugh.

Bed time seemed impossible tonight. The excitement and the sugar in Isabella’s system make her stay awake past her usual bedtime and, even when sleep finally hits her, she tries to fight it, playing with her toys until almost midnight. Thankfully, tomorrow is a Saturday and you hope she’ll sleep in for once.

With a sigh, you lay on the bed, beside Frankie after a long night of celebrating. You both stare at the ceiling in silence for a moment, smiles on your faces, hearts beating strongly. When you took the pregnancy test and found out it was positive, you were scared for a moment. You and Frankie have been engaged for three months only and you were afraid he’d freak out with the news. But his reaction made everything better.

And it’s not like it’s too soon to have a baby. You and Frankie might have been separated for ten years, but, deep down, you’ve always known you were meant to be together. You were meant to have a family.

“How do you feel?” He asks, taking your hand in his.

“Excited.” You smile, rolling your head to face him, “How do you feel? Knowing you’ll be a dad of two now?”

“Scared.” He admits with a laugh. You squeeze his hand, lacing your fingers together and bringing it to your lips.

“You’re gonna do great, Frankie. You raised Isabella on your own and she turned out great.” You assure him.

“Yeah, but it’s different now.” His voice is soft, “You’re here now.”

Your heart clutches as you remember what you’ve heard about Isabella’s mom. While you’ve never deeply talked about it with Frankie, you know he’s sensitive about the subject. So you try to change the subject.

“Do you think I’ll be a good mom?” you say quietly, in the dark.

Frankie rolls over to face you, “You’re already a good mom.” He reminds you, “You’re a great mom, what are you talking about?”

When you moved into Morales’ house, Isabella ended up becoming your daughter and you were surprisingly okay with it. You've loved that girl pretty much ever since you met her, she's caring and funny just like her dad. How could you not love a piece of Frankie?

“She told me she loved me today.” Your voice is even quieter than before as you roll to your side to look at him. His eyes widen and his smile grows wider, “When I found out I was pregnant, I started crying and she came to my rescue.” You smile at the memory, “She said, ‘Mommy, don't cry, I love you.’”

Frankie laughs softly and hooks an arm behind your lower back, pulling you against his chest. His lips touch your forehead as you bury your face on his neck, inhaling his scent deeply. You'll never get sick of it, of him. You couldn't be more grateful that you decided to stay.

“I'll never leave you, Francisco,” you tell him, all of a sudden. Your voice is muffled by the skin of his neck, but he feels the vibration of it on him. His heart leaps, beating fast with affection and adoration, “I'll never leave you or Bella or the baby, okay?”

Oh.

He wasn't thinking about it, he really wasn't. The way Isabella's mother abandoned her, leaving Frankie with a fresh new baby to care all by himself was awful. He felt lost, betrayed, heartbroken. But he healed. He raised Bella to be a wonderful kid and he did his best to make sure she knew she was loved. And then you came into his life again and everything became even better. He knows you, he knows you're not going to leave him again. That's how much he trusts you.

“Okay,” he eventually answers, pressing a kiss on your hair and rubbing your back gently, “I love you so much, mi vida.”

“I love you too, mi alma.”

Eventually, both of your breathings even out as you fall asleep in each other's arms, like it was always meant to be.

...

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