#i hope they live happily and husband and husbander good night

[dazaiandhislovelybandages]

Hey could u do something about ghost being a dad to a son. I always see him as girl!dad but Icl I imagine him to have boys

Thank you xx

Just another day, just another night {Simon "Ghost" Riley}

A/n: ngl, I always see Simon as a girl dad too but he would be an amazing boy dad as well. Anyways, thank you for requesting and I hope you like it.

Pairing: Simon Riley x fem!reader

Trigger warning: mentions of Ghost's past

Not once in his life had Simon thought that being woken up by a four year old boy jumping up and down on your shared bed would bring him joy.

He had returned last night and even though you had stayed up waiting for him after he called you as soon as he landed on the base, of course your son couldn't stay up that late. He had thought about asking you to wake him up just for five minutes but the thought was instantly scratched from his mind when he realised that putting him back to bed would be a nightmare.

Simon wanted to groan from how tired he was but didn't. He felt your body slightly moving next to him and he quickly opened his eyes, picked your son up in his arms and got out of bed. As much as he wanted to spend the entire morning in bed with just you and your son, preparing a small surprise breakfast for you seemed more appealing in his mind.

"Number one rule for being a proper man, buddy," Simon placed the tiny -compared to him- boy on the counter. Your kitchen was pretty small so he wasn't worried about him falling since Simon took up most of the space. "Always cook for your partner." He ruffled the boy's head and got down to work.

Looking at your son at first, back when he was nothing more than a baby in your belly, made Simon tear up. Would he even be a good father? Could he be a good father? Those two questions roamed in his brain, keeping him awake most if not all nights. But as soon as the baby boy was born and he held him the first time, all he could see was a spitting image of himself along with a few of your traits.

And soon enough, whenever Simon deemed that you needed to rest, which was technically everyday, he would pick up your son, head to the living room and turned on the tv. It wasn't until a few days later when you woke up from a nap and walked to the living room that you realised that Simon and your son were watching Premier League together.

It was a funny sight, your son curled up in Simon's arms happily waving his hands while your husband explained the rules to him. And now, four years later, your son would make you watch Premier League with him whenever Simon wasn't there and then he would call his father -only if the mission allowed some sort of communication- and they would talk about football. Not that the little boy's words made much sense but Simon understood him anyways.

"Waffles!" The little boy tagged on his dad's shirt. Simon stopped and looked at him, slightly confused.

"Did your mum buy that waffle maker?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. He was planning on buying you one as a small gift but it appeared as if you had bought one already. The small boy nodded. "Let's make waffles then."

[i2sunric]

HOLD YOUR BREATH (s.jy)

pairing: detective!jake x reader (f)

summary: not having seen your husband’s face in two days, you decide to bring him dinner and check up on him— sleep deprived and stressed, he can’t help but get a taste of you.

warnings: 1960s au. mentions of murder, unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy!), pussy eating, pussy drunk jake (r we even surprised), semi-public sex, choking, p in v, jake is a detective, jake wears glasses, sex on desk, dirty talking, pet names (baby, love, darling), wall sex, breeding kink, cream pie, lmk if more. NOT PROOFREAD.

wc: 3.7k

published: 11th June 2024

taglist: (permanent) @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @heelvsted @jwnghyuns @seunghancore @bangtancultsposts s @shawnyle (oneshot) @kirinaa08 @immelissaaa @skzenhalove @anittamaxwynnn @honeybunnee @cherlv

a/n: based on this ask from anon! sorry if it took me a while to prepare it, hope you like it tho <3 please LIKE & REBLOG!

Being a detective in the 60s wasn’t easy at all. With all the danger occurring and newly killers all walking around, trying to take lives as if they were useless, you couldn’t help but bite your nails as you waited for Jake at home.

But being a detective’s wife was even more difficult. The constant dread fuelling your heart until it was too heavy to carry.

One late Friday night, you were sitting by the kitchen table all alone. The warm June air hitting your skin since you left your window open, watching as the sun was beginning to set.

You had already deep cleaned the whole apartment, probably not even a single crumb of dust was left.

Then, you rearranged the books on the shelves.

In the morning, alphabetically and in the afternoon from the oldest to the newest. Ridiculous.

Utterly bored, you had even painted your nails of a weird shade of green that matched your favourite blouse-skirt set.

You weren’t even being dramatic, given the fact that your only company hadn’t shown his face at home for two days.

Date a detective, they said. It’ll be fun, they said.

It was everything but fun or entertaining, since you spent most of the time alone, due to his crazy schedules.

But you loved Sim Jake too dearly to even consider confronting him about it.

You heard a few stories about old ladies’ nieces at the hair salon you worked who got forced into marriage and you were so glad it hadn’t happened to you.

Because you knew it, bet your heart on it that Jake would always choose you first.

You glanced at the clock that ticked half past seven and like the perfect wife you were, you began to wonder if Jake was even taking care of himself. Had he eaten enough? Had he even eaten at all?

So, rolling up your sleeves, you cooked a delicious meal to bring him to his workplace. Inside the small lunch box was some warm miso soup and vegetables for his big, sexy brain.

Repressing the shiver that ran through your spine when you stepped out of your house and immediately spotted a ‘Missing Person’ sign, you started walking down the familiar road. You just thanked the sun was still high enough to bring some natural source of light.

You reached his office when it was dark already, having walked almost one hour away. Cursing the heels you forced yourself to wear even as your feet screamed for help, you knocked on the door.

The new detective Jake introduced you at a dinner showed up, bright smile and innocence plastered on his face “Hello! Miss Sim.”

You smiled back “Good evening, Mister Kim.” Sunoo stepped aside from the door “Looking for Detective Sim?”

You hummed as you took in the sight of the very dark hallway “Third door on the left, is that right?”

Sunoo nodded happily, “You remembered.” He then placed one hand on the side of his mouth to whisper “But I warn you, he’s not in the brightest mood.”

Oh goodness. “Thank you for the information.” You said as you walked away, to the door that led to your husband’s office.

Softly knocking on the door, you waited for his response, and when his grumpy “What?” From the other side, you decided to open the door.

And there your husband was, his hair sticking to every direction while his glasses almost fell down his nose bridge.

Jake was playing billiards, leaning against the table as he desperately tried to get in the ball. A simple task that seemed not to work for him, since he looked so distressed.

A cigar balanced between his upper and bottom lip, its smoke lingering in the air.

When his chocolate brown eyes finally settled on your figure, they softened in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

“Y/N.” Jake breathed out, placing down the pool stick on the table and walking towards you as you closed the door “What are you doing here?”

“I brought you dinner.” You raised the lunch box in your hand, smiling “Figured you might need it.”

His brows knitted, a frown appearing on his face “You walked here all alone?” He glanced at the clock that ticked nine already “It’s dangerous, baby.” Don’t let yourself be fooled by the sweet nickname, his tone was low and rather pissed.

Being in contact with crime most of his day, Jake grew very protective of you, and directly imposed that you wouldn’t go out without him — or any male friend — after six pm.

You shook your head and let out a small sigh “I’m here, aren’t I?” You said as you walked towards his desk to place down the lunch box.

“Besides, I haven’t seen you in a while.” You tilted your head, resting your back on the table “Haven’t you missed me?”

“Christ, Y/N.” He walked toward you right away, closing the space you had put “I missed you like crazy.”

He dropped his head low and sighed tiredly “But there has been another murder and we can’t figure out who the culprit is. I’m in deep-sea here.”

You gently cupped his cheek in your small palm and rubbed your thumb “Maybe you should take a break?” You suggested “Working too hard fries your brain.”

Jake nodded “Maybe I should.” He murmured and looked behind his shoulders “Wand to play pool?”

You grimaced “You know I can’t play that game.” His lips twitched into a smile wrapping a strong arm around your waist. "I could teach you." He told you, lowering his head and brushing his lips against your ear.

You placed your hands with your newly polished nails on his clothed chest, right under his shoulders "I'm afraid I'm a lost case at this game, even for the greatest detective in town."

Jake chuckled lowly and tilted his head to press his lips against your own, sliding a hand downward to grip your thigh. He parted his lips, slipping his tongue into your mouth and tilting you backwards in between his body and the desk.

Jake took the opportunity to grip your thigh and spread it apart, too eager to even care about having a make out session first. He slipped his hand under your skirt and groaned when he felt your folds right under his fingers.

"Goodness, you didn't seem to be wearing anything." Jake mumbled against your lips before trailing his own down your jawline and to your neck.

His fingers pressed against your core and he groaned lowly, sliding his fingers across your entrance.

You let out a quiet gasp at the feeling and let out a small chuckle before his fingers delved deeper inside of you, moving in and out of your wetness while kissing across your jawline.

"You seem quite needy already, love." He mumbled with his gravelly voice. You grasped the back of his head and rested your forehead on his, your eyes never leaving his.

He kissed the tip of your nose, such a gentle gesture in contrast to the filthy thing he was doing to your body, the sound of your slickness pooling down your thighs and on his wrist filled the room— until it was interrupted by a knock on the door.

Cursing under his breath for not having locked the door when you first came in, and not having foreshadowed his fingers deep inside you, he pressed a finger on his lips to shush you. “Who is it?” He then asked.

“Detective Sim?” Someone’s voice came from the other side “The captain wants to speak with you, sir.”

He was about to turn the doorknob when Jake said “Busy at the moment.”

The other detective stepped back from the door but didn’t walk away. “It’s important.” He said bluntly.

You thought that at those words, Jake would leave you there on the table and go doing his job, instead he curled his finger inside of you, making you press a hand on your mouth to middle a moan.

“You can tell me from there.” The detective began speaking and Jake looked down at you, his eyes darkened as he continued to move his fingers in a circular motion inside of you. "Keep quiet, mh?" He whispered to you, his tone smug.

You let out a shaky breath and grasped his forearm, doing your best to not let out any noise.

He let out a low chuckle, curling his fingers again to draw a moan from you. "Shh, you have to be quiet." He whispered and the detective continued to speak.

Not like you could focus on what he was saying with the way his fingers worked you closer to the edge.

“About the murder cases we were working on…” The detective said, “I have an update.”

Jake tilted his head at the mention of the case and kept his fingers moving inside you. "And what is the update?" He called out, not letting up his movements at all.

You couldn’t take it anymore and tried to remove his wrist, "Detective Park found a similarity with the other two murders, seems like the culprit puts a small signature."

Jake ignored your piss-poor attempt to stop him as he continued to talk to the detective with a nonchalant tone.

"What sort of signature?" He questioned, a smirk on his lips while he continued his movements with a particular curling of his fingers.

Your legs shook as he kept hitting your sweet spot “He cuts the ring finger's nail of all the victims." The detective informed him.

Upon hearing the information Jake's eyes widened slightly before moving his sight back down to you. His fingers continued their ministrations, drawing more tremors from your body though his mind was working at the new information revealed to him.

Not hearing any reaction from the inside, Jake’s colleague added “Detective park said to find him when you aren't... busy?” He cleared his throat and for a second you thought he guessed what was happening “I'll tell him you'll talk to him later?"

Your husband hummed lowly as he thought back to the information, continuing to work his fingers in and out of you as if it helped him think. "Yes, I will come talk to him after." He told the detective with a steady voice, his eyes taking in your expression while his gaze darkened.

With the dismissal, the person’s steps went away until they completely disappeared. Jake smirked and moved his fingers faster, curling on your g-spot.

He lowered his head, pressing his lips against the side of your neck and up to your earlobe. "Just a little more, love." He whispered in your ear.

You moaned shakily, now finally able to let it out. You wrapped one arm around his neck to steady yourself as the other rested behind you.

You clenched around his two digits, the knot in your stomach tightening.

Jake let out a soft growl in your ear, his fingers curling against your sweet spot. "Not yet, wait." He demanded.

“W-what?” You frowned, unable to stop the euphoria creeping in “Why?”

Jake smirked against your ear "I'm not done with you yet, love." he mumbled huskily before taking your lobe in his mouth and sucking on it.

His fingers worked you until another moan nearly escaped your lips and he took that opportunity to capture them in his own "Quiet, you don't want anyone to hear you being a noisy little thing, do you?"

You shook your head as you threw it back, your hair dangling in the air and eyes squeezing. You bucked your hips to meet his hand, his palm rubbing against your clit.

Jake titled his head at the sight, looking ever so gorgeous. He added a third digit inside of you, but it stretched you so good to the point of pain. You couldn’t help but whimper out loud.

Jake chuckled at your reaction and his tongue delved between your lips when you whined, muffling your sounds. "Shh, you're being too loud, baby." He bit your bottom lip.

You clenched around his digits, walls taking them in “T-too much.” You murmured.

He hummed lowly and slowed his pace slightly, bringing one arm to grip your waist again. "You can handle it, can't you, baby?" Hequestioned as his fingers began to curl against your sensitive spot to ease your discomfort.

At the feeling, so full and good, you rolled your eyes to the back of your head “T-there.” You moaned helplessly “Keep going.”

“Be quiet for me.” He demeaned and curled his fingers at a speed you weren’t even sure was possible.

You looked down at where your bodies collided and couldn’t help but let out a moan, your slickness was pooling down his wrist onto the floor, making a whole mess.

Jake followed your gaze and smirked at the sight, “You like this? Mh?”

You nodded “Yes, Jake.” Your eyes were half lidded as you felt the knot in your stomach tighten “Like it. So good.”

Jake titled your chin up to meet his dark eyes and raised a brow, your walls sucking his digits in “Are you close, baby?”

Like the expert of your body that he was, he knew all the signs to pick up. “Yes— I’m so—“ You couldn’t even finish your sentence, that one particular curl on the spongy wall made your body shake in release.

Jake’s arms wrapped around you, holding your body against his as you quaked, “Good girl." He mumbled in your ear, his fingers continuing their work until you came down from your high.

He pressed a soft kiss to your jawline, his fingers slowly pulling out of and he smirked as they came out slick with your release. "You were so good for me, darling." he mumbled against your ear.

He pulled his fingers to his mouth and sucked them, he hummed “Love the taste of you.”

Jake gently gave your arm a light squeeze before moving you to the side. You watched him through puzzled eyes until you saw him pushing on the floor all of his files.

“Baby?” You asked and he only replied with a smile. He pressed his lips against your neck, sucking and biting on the soft flesh while he moved his hands to the back of your thighs.

“Now..." He mumbled as his hands gripped your thighs, lifting you up.

You widened your eyes when you noticed how he placed you on the desk and rested your thighs on his shoulders, kneeling in front of you “There we go.”

“J-jake?” You asked, looking down at him. He winked at you “Just relax." He mumbled softly as his lips began to trail across your thighs.

Your body twitched at the feeling, his featherlight kisses sending waves of pleasure.

Jake trailed his lips up until they were close to your core, his breath fanning against your sensitive skin.

“Wait.” You tried to stop him by pressing one hand on his hair. “You haven’t been touched yet.”

He chuckled again, looking back up at you from his position in between your legs. "Don’t worry about me, love. This is about you." He whispered, blowing on your pussy.

You rolled your eyes back and Jake took the opportunity to swipe his tongue slowly on your core, tasting your juices and your previous cum.

“Oh, Lord.” You moaned out, grasping his hair into your hand, knuckles almost white.

He hummed as the taste of you hit his tongue, drawing a low groan from him.

Your breath grew heavy, slowly guiding his head to lick in the spots you were the most sensitive.

“You taste wonderful, love.” He whispered, sucking on your clit.

You unconsciously bucked your hips, not in control of your body anymore as it succumbed to the pleasure.

Jake chuckled and pressed a hand on your hip, pinning it down to keep you from moving while his tongue continued circles against your sensitive spot. "Stay still for me, darling." He mumbled, continuing his movements.

You arched your back and grasped his hair and he could tell that you were already close to the edge.

So, he took the opportunity to slide his tongue in your entrance, making you moan out as the warm and spongy feeling made your whole mind black out.

His eyes never left your expression as he watched you closely. He was enjoying making you squirm, moaning out his name.

And just like thunder crashing, your body shuddered while you squirted right on Jake’s face.

You widened your eyes, unable to stop the overwhelming feeling of pleasure as you basically screamed-moaned. At that point, you were sure even people on the streets knew what you two were up to.

However, Jake seemed very content with it. He wiped his face with the sleeve of his suit. “Pussy so good, makes my day better.” Your liquid was dripping down his glasses and jaw.

“I made a mess.” You whispered, propping yourself up on your elbows “And?” Jake raised a brow, pulling your chin in a kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue “I love your messes.”

“I want to help you.” You stated, palming his angry hard-on “You already made me cum twice.”

“We don’t have protections.” He murmured, kissing your lips once, then twice “I don’t want inconveniences to happen.”

The thought of him breeding you made your mind fill with primal urges, but you tried to negotiate “You can pull out.”

Jake shook his head, resting it on your shoulder “I don’t have self control when it comes to you.” He kissed your clothed shoulder.

“A blow?” You questioned, caressing the little hair he had behind his head. Jake chuckled again, “I’m too rough and I don’t want to ruin your cute attire.”

His gaze travelled down to your hand that helped you hold yourself up and smiled “You put nail polish on? It suits you.”

How he managed to make your heart flutter after literally having you shake, you weren’t sure. Maybe he had a talent.

“I wanted to be pretty for you.” You chuckled, “Can’t ruin your reputation.”

No matter how much Jake tried to talk you out of sex in his office, the way he was slowly rutting his hips on your inner thigh gave him away.

He occasionally let out small hums in between his words, and you knew damn well he must be feeling so pained.

So, you slowly climbed down the desk and looked at him. He showed you a nice smile, oblivious to the contorted plants you had in mind. His lips dropped into a frown at the same moment your skirt dropped to your ankles.

“Y/N?” He asked, raising a brow as you began to unbutton your blouse, showing your silk bra.

If Jake had one weakness apart from eating you out, then it was your boobs. He loved them, worshipped them day and night.

His eyes darkened at such sight, walking towards you right away and pushing you against the wall.

“You drive me insane.” He whispered, unzipping his pants and letting them drop to the floor “You fuck my head.”

You watched him with excitement bubbling your stomach, he gripped your bare thigh and raised your leg until it was around his waist.

You looked down at his hard cock, pressing against your stomach “Watch me stretch this pussy out.” He said as he aligned himself with your entrance and thrusted inside of you.

You were so wet and sensitive, your skin burning against his. Jake gripped your ass so tight it would surely leave a mark by the next day, he rutted his hips inside of you at a fast speed.

“I don’t think I’ll last long.” He warned, “I feel you much better without a condom.”

You clenched around his length as his admission, making him groan. He pulled you into a heated kiss as he kept moving his hips, desperately chasing the relief he longed for.

“Fuck.” He breathed out, grip on your skin painful “Fuck, you were made for me.”

With one skilled hand, he undid your bra and palmed your breasts, his tip hitting your cervix, making you moan.

Jake lowered his head onto your chest and began sucking on your nipple, circling his tongue around it “Ah, Yes!” You chanted out.

Without missing a beat, Jake changed tit and did the same thing to the other.

“So deep.” You moaned, squeezing your eyes shut as the familiar feeling of euphoria reached you for the third time “So good.”

“Yes baby,” He grunted, one hand sneaking up to wrap around your neck “You’re so good for me, so good.”

The sudden loss of air made you clench around him, your walls hugging his cock, sucking him in.

“Fuck— Stop clenching like that.” He huffed, squeezing his eyes just like you did “I’m already so close.”

“I don’t want you to pull out.” You placed one hand on his cheeks, brown eyes boring into yours “What?”

“I want you to cum inside of me.” A rather deep thrust “Your babies, I want them, I don’t care.”

“Oh goodness.” Jake grunted, his hips moving almost manically “You’ll be the death of me.”

You pulled him into a kiss which wasn’t exactly one, you two were just moaning and breathing into each other’s mouths.

“Are you sure, love?” He asked, drops of sweat coating his forehead, his bangs sticking to it “We can’t undo this.”

“I’m so sure.” You moaned out “Cum inside of me.”

At those words, Jake shot his load deep inside of you, filling you up with his warm seed.

You whimpered, grasping his forearm when the orgasm hit you as well, making you clench around him.

He held you against the wall, both of you trying to catch your breaths.

You smiled and removed one bang from his eye, caressing his cheek with your thumb “This was the craziest shit I’ve ever done.”

You slowly rocked your hips, needing to feel him more, needing his cum to stay inside of you.

Jake groaned and rested his forehead on yours “Damn baby, if this is how it’ll end up every time you visit, I hope you do it more often.”

[dixons-sunshine]

Spot Of Tea | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

*GIF isn't mine*

Summary: Marrying Daryl was one of the best decisions you ever made. He was no longer the hot-headed, rude hunter from the quarry who you couldn't stand. Instead, he was someone who you'd come to love above all else, someone who you bled with and shared a beautiful baby girl with. And just when you thought you couldn't love your husband more, he just had to go and have a cute little teaparty with your daughter.

Genre: Fluff

Era: Alexandria, post Saviour war, pre the building of the bridge.

Warnings: None.

Word count: 1.5k

A/n: Back at it again with another Dad!Daryl fic, and this one was inspired by @louifaith's amazing idea! This was so cute and I just had to write this. Domesticity with Daryl is my favourite genre. I hope you like this!

As always, my requests are open for any TWD requests, as well as Scud Frohmeyer requests.

—

The sun was just starting to set. Everyone was starting to retreat into their homes for the night and the people on guard were switching shifts with the people on night shift. You were done for the day, a successful day's work in the infirmary adding a bounce to your step as you walked up the porch stairs and into your shared home with Daryl, locking the door behind you and shedding your coat.

The house was eerily silent. Daryl had sustained an injury while on a run and had been given the week off by Rick to heal. Although your husband had initially been against the idea, one look from you had shut any protests down—being the community's nurse and his wife gave you that advantage. It was already day three and he'd been spending all of his time with Hazel, your daughter. Each night you'd come home to find him watching some old cartoons he'd found tapes of with her in the living room, all cuddled up under a big, fuzzy, comfortable blanket.

So where were they that night, and why was it so quiet?

“Daryl?” you called out after searching the first floor of your small home with no sign of the archer or your daughter. You started descending up the stairs, but stopped when you got to the top. You could hear your three year old's voice coming from her room, soon followed by Daryl's own.

You walked down the hallway and into her room, stopping in the doorway at the sight that you met; your daughter sitting down on the ground in front of her bed, surrounded by her stuffed toys with the plastic tea set Daryl had found for her in the middle, with the archer himself sitting on the opposite side of her. The big, gruff man was "drinking" from the plastic teacup, sporting a plastic tiara. Hazel was happily babbling on, and Daryl was looking at her fondly, a small smile on his face as he hummed in agreement to whatever she said.

You leaned against the doorway with an amused smile on your face, silently observing your husband dutifully playing out Hazel's storyline. They hadn't noticed your presence yet, and you jumped at the opportunity to admire the two most important people in your life.

“Do you want some more tea, Daddy?” Hazel asked, pouring the imaginary tea into the cups of the stuffed animals surrounding her.

Daryl nodded and extended the plastic cup in her direction. “Yeah, 'course I do. Ya make the best tea in the land.”

Hazel giggled and poured the imaginary tea into Daryl's cup. “There you go, Daddy.”

“Thanks, Princess Hazelnut,” Daryl thanked her, taking a sip from the plastic cup and humming in approval. “Tastes good. Wha'd ya put in this?”

“My secret recipe,” Hazel responded with a giggle, placing the plastic teapot down on the ground, picking up her own cup. “You look pretty, Daddy. Like a real princess.”

Daryl chuckled and patted at the tiara on his head. “S'the crown. S'makin' me look like royalty.”

“Yeah, the look suits you,” you voiced, finally making Hazel and Daryl aware of your presence.

Hazel dropped the plastic teacup in her hands and hastily got up, rushing over to you. “Mama!”

You crouched down to catch her in your arms, picking her up and placing sweet, soft little kisses on her face. “Hey, baby,” you greeted her, an affectionate smile on your face. “Were you and Daddy having fun?”

“'Course we were,” Daryl chipped in, slowly getting up from the floor due to the injury on his leg. He walked with a noticable limp over to you, ruffling Hazel's hair. “We always have fun. Ain't tha' righ', Hazelnut?”

Hazel giggled and buried her face into your shoulder. “Yeah. Daddy played princesses and tea parties with me.”

“Yeah. 'M Princess Dana of the Forest Kingdom. This lil' one is Princess Hazelnut of the Fairy Kingdom. We were jus' meetin' up to form an alliance to fight against the dangerous Fire Tribe, who wants to destroy the forest and all the animals in my kingdom. We need the help of Princess Hazelnut and the Fairy Warriors to defeat them once and fer all,” Daryl explained, using a deeper voice for dramatic effect.

“Well I'm sorry I interrupted your meeting. Do you want me to leave?” you asked teasingly, sending the archer a playful smile over your daughter's head.

Hazel shook her head. “No. Daddy and I will finish tomorrow.”

“Well, I've got the day off tomorrow. Would you mind if I joined you two?”

“Yay! Mama's gonna join us, Daddy!” Hazel exclaimed happily, hugging you tighter.

Daryl smiled fondly at Hazel, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on the top of her head. “Yeah, I heard tha', Hazelnut. Mama's gon' help us defeat the Fire Tribe. They will no longer hurt the animals in my kingdom.”

“Yeah! Mama's gonna help us win!”

You laughed lightly at their theatrics, shaking your head. You placed another kiss on Hazel's forehead before placing her back down on the ground. “Why don't you go wash your hands and wait for me and Daddy downstairs? If you promise to be good, there will be a surprise for you after dinner.”

“A surprise? Yay! Thank you, Mama!” Hazel exclaimed, hugging your legs tightly before bounding out of the room excitedly.

You chuckled affectionately at the little girl that brought so much light into your life. It amazed you how one small human being could fill a hole in your heart that you hadn't even realised existed before. Hazel was your pride and joy, your baby girl who you'd go to great lengths to protect, as would Daryl.

You turned back towards the archer and gave him an amused smile. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Daryl mused, stepping forward to place his hands on your hips, pulling you closer to him. “How was yer day?”

“Not as eventful as yours, I'm guessing,” you teased, laughing lightly. You gently took the tiara from his head, inspecting it. “Gotta say, though, the whole "Princess Dana" thing suits you. Never would've guessed it was you with this tiara on. You looked really pretty.”

“Stop,” Daryl said with a chuckle. “Hazel asked me to wear the tiara. It made the story more believable.”

“It sounds like a good storyline. I'm actually invested now, and I wonder how the two of you are gonna work me into the story.”

“Hazel will figure it out. She's a real creative kid. She has a big imagination,” Daryl replied, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb over your hip in a gentle caress. “She's amazin'.”

“Just like her daddy,” you responded, gazing up at your husband lovingly.

Daryl scoffed and ducked his head, but you didn't miss the way his lips twitched up into a small smile. “Nah, she got it from her mama. She's a mini ya.”

“I don't think so, but okay,” you relented, dropping the tiara on the bed before wrapping your arms around his neck. “She's perfect.”

Daryl hummed. “Jus' like her mama,” he whispered before capturing your lips with his, kissing you sweetly and lovingly.

The kiss ended all too soon for your liking, but you remembered that you had a toddler waiting for you downstairs. “We should probably get her fed and ready for bed.”

“Yeah,” Daryl agreed, taking a step back. “Wha' surprise do ya have fer Hazel?”

“Cookies.”

“Who made them?”

“Carol. She dropped them off earlier before she went back to the Kingdom,” you explained, before leaning up to whisper something in his ear. “If we get Hazel to bed early enough, I'll show you what surprise I have for you.”

Daryl Dixon loves his daughter. She is his little girl and he would do anything for her, including dressing up as a princess for tea parties. He enjoys her company and wished to be in it 24/7. He'd kill anything that tried to hurt her and he'd die protecting her.

But at that moment, Daryl wanted to get her to bed and asleep as quickly as humanly possible. As much as he loved her, he had another idea of fun that involved only you, the love of his life, a bed, and no tea sets.

[chrisevansonly]

𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲’𝐬 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐬 | 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜

ʚ charles leclerc x female reader

ʚ nothing is more special than watching your baby boy take his first steps…and of course watching your husband get emotional that his little one is growing up…

ʚ no warnings, very soft and fluffy

ʚ i really wanted to write a dad!charles so here we are even if i still feel iffy about my writing lol, i hope you guys enjoy it! requests are still open for little blurb ideas, fics, smau’s etc<3

For parents there was never a greater joy than watching their child grow, learn and get more and more curious as they became older. For little Théo Leclerc who had just turned 9 months, he was proficient at crawling and getting into anything and everything, you blamed his father’s drive and determination on that. He was as curious as babies come, intrigued in anything his mother and father were doing, he loved playing with coloured blocks, reading bedtime stories with his parents at night, he was the definition of a blessing to both you and Charles.

“good morning chérie, smells delicious down here”

You smiled turning to press a gentle kiss to Charles’s cheek, a soft smile on your face

“morning my love, thought i’d make some pancakes, Théo has been loving them”

“his mother is an amazing cook can you blame him? where is he anyway, it’s too quiet…”

You laughed pointing over to the little area you had set up on your living room, toys and books spilled across the hardwood floor

“he has been quite busy this morning, haven’t you petit prince?”

Cooing slightly at the mini Charles in the corner he giggled looking at you, upon noticing his father he began to wiggle on the floor, slowly making his way over on his hands and knees

“es-tu impatient de me voir bébé!?”

Théo squealed happily, finally making it to Charles who was quick to pick up the happy baby, who’s hands rested on his father’s face

“Look at that happy face! He’s so cute it makes me want to cry…are you so happy to see papa?”

You laughed seeing the smile on his face as he wiggled around in Charles’s arms, coming over to press kisses across his face only intensifying it

“You are going to squirm right onto the floor if you keep doing that”

Théo only giggled, his hands grabbing at the now cooking pancakes that rested on his plate

“Papa will put you in your chair and you can have some breakfast okay my love?”

“Can’t have you hungry can we little worm”

Snorting out a laugh you turned to him

“Little worm?”

“Have you seen him when he does that wiggle? You should hold him when he does it, he’s like a worm”

Shaking your head you couldn’t help but realize that was probably a good nickname for your son, when he got excited there was no stopping that wiggle.

-

Théo was quick to finish his breakfast, never leaving anything behind on his plate, so while you cleaned up, you set him down gently on the floor, though he never really stayed in one place, so as your back was turned he had made it over to his dad who was sitting in the living room, cleaning up the mess baby tornado had left behind. Upon reaching the couch, Théo had grabbed onto the couch to stand up, gripping onto the fabric he got to his feet, letting out a squeal, instantly catching the attention of Charles.

“What are you up too bébé, sois prudent…”

On instinct he moved a bit closer before pausing when Théo began to take steps towards him

“Chérie, regarde ça! Théo marche!”

Quickly turning to look towards the living room you grabbed your phone, immediately walking over to film your baby boy, tears in your eyes as you smiled

“Bravo petit prince! Tu vas si bien!”

Théo giggled walking a few more steps before collapsing into his fathers chest

“He-He walked! Char…he-I can’t believe he walked!”

Joining your boys on the floor you couldn’t help but notice the little tears that rested on your husbands cheeks as well, taking your thumb and gently wiping them off his skin

“I can’t believe it…he-he walked right to me, please tell me you got that”

Nodding you showed him the video once again on your phone, getting to experience the moment all over again, Charles hugging Théo closer

“You’re growing up too fast…can’t believe you’re walking”

“Aw baby, he’s still little…don’t worry”

You kissed his cheek gently, a hand rubbing Théo’s back softly

“Tu seras toujours le petit prince de papa, n'est-ce pas?”

He giggled wiggling around a little bit for Charles to put him back down, watching as he began to crawl around once again

“I’m going to miss him as a baby…”

“I know you will, but we still have some time…besides, who said we have to stop at one?”

Hearing your words Charles looked at you, a slight twinkle in his eyes

“Je suppose que nous avons du travail à faire…”

You smiled shaking your head before pressing a firm kiss to his lips, only pulling away when Théo began to walk once again, only this time heading away from you both

“Well here we go…”

Laughter filled the room as you and Charles took after your now very quick baby boy, what you thought was fast at a crawl, seemed to be lightning speed now that he was on his feet.

You wouldn’t change anything for the world, you’re family was perfect, and you couldn’t be happier…even if your little one was growing up too fast…

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Imperfect Couple - 7

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Warning: The couple's arguments could be triggering.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , -

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Bucky’s gut had been gnawing at him for weeks, a familiar, nagging feeling whenever Ian was around. Something about the man didn’t sit right, and Bucky couldn’t shake the sense that he’d seen this behavior before. His instincts kicked in, and he ordered someone to dig deeper into Ian’s past.

The brown envelope arrived the next day. Bucky sat at his desk, his eyes narrowing as he tore it open. Inside were the results of the investigation—pages that painted a much darker picture than he’d anticipated. As he skimmed the documents, his jaw clenched, and a low curse escaped his lips, “Shit.”

🌸🌸🌸🌸

The next day, you and Bucky arrived at a shelter for single mothers, a stop on the campaign trail. The women inside had experienced hardships most people couldn’t imagine, fleeing from abusive partners and trying to rebuild their lives. Their stories of survival hung in the air, unspoken but palpable in their tired eyes and wary smiles.

You moved through the room, serving food and making small talk with the women, trying your best to offer some comfort. As you handed a plate to one woman, you said softly, “I understand what kind of psychological torment you’ve been through. I hope you stay strong.”

The moment the words left your mouth, what you’d meant as a word of encouragement didn’t land the way you’d hoped.

Later that night, a video of the conversation went viral. It was clear someone had recorded the interaction and released it online. Bucky knew this had to be the work of his opponents, seizing the opportunity to discredit you—and by extension, him.

You watched the video, feeling a pit form in your stomach as the comments poured in:

"Stay strong? She doesn’t seem like someone who’s ever been through what we have."

"She wouldn’t understand. She lives in a happy home. How could she possibly know what it’s like to run from someone who’s supposed to love you?"

Their words cut deep, slicing through your carefully constructed image. They didn’t know the truth—that your marriage to Bucky was its own kind of prison. Pretending to be the perfect wife had taken a toll on you, but no one saw behind the curtain.

You froze, feeling exposed, as if they’d somehow sensed the cracks in your façade. You had become so good at lying, at convincing the world that you and Bucky were happy, that now, faced with these women who had lived through real pain, you felt like a fraud.

Furthermore, you wanted to tell them that you understood, that you too had felt trapped and powerless. But the words stuck in your throat. Instead, you smiled for the cameras, playing your part, knowing that your life was being documented as an example of “happiness.”

Then your eyes landed on a comment that sent you reeling:

"If they’re so happy, wouldn’t they have a kid by now?"

The question hung in the air, mocking you. They didn’t know the truth—how could they? And yet, their words seemed to pierce through the mask you’d been wearing for so long.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

The silence between you and Bucky was heavy, almost suffocating. You hadn’t said much since the shelter incident, and Bucky could sense your stress in the way you barely touched your food or drank any water. You sat at the dining table, staring blankly at the untouched plate in front of you.

Bucky watched you for a moment before stepping closer, his brow furrowing with concern. He gently touched your forehead, his fingers warm against your skin.

“You have a fever,” he said, his voice low with worry.

You immediately pulled away from his hand, your body instinctively recoiling. Your stress had a way of manifesting physically, and whenever you were overwhelmed, your body shut down. This was no different.

“Don’t touch me,” you muttered, your voice hollow.

Bucky’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. He knew this would happen, knew how your body responded when you were pushed too far. Without a word, he slipped his arm around you, supporting you as he guided you toward your room. You didn’t resist, too tired to fight.

“Just leave,” you said once you reached your room, your voice barely above a whisper.

But Bucky ignored your words. He sat you down on the edge of the bed, gently lifting your feet into his lap. You stiffened in surprise as his hands began to massage your aching feet. The familiarity of the gesture caught you off guard—he used to do this all the time when you were together, especially on nights when you came home exhausted, too tired to even think.

Your face grew warmer, though not just because of the fever. The tension between the two of you was palpable, a mix of unresolved emotions and unspoken words hanging in the air. Bucky’s touch, once comforting, now felt like it held the weight of all the things left unsaid.

“I’ll bring the medicine,” he said after a few moments, his voice softer now.

You didn’t respond, too lost in the swirl of emotions flooding your mind. The way his hands moved, the care in his touch—it was all too familiar. It made your chest tighten with memories of when things weren’t this complicated.

As Bucky stood to leave, you finally spoke, your voice quiet and raw. “Why are you doing this?”

He paused, turning back to face you. “Because I care. I always do” His eyes searched yours, and for a moment, it was as if the walls you’d built between you both cracked, if only just a little.

You didn’t respond, not knowing what to say. You could feel your eyelids growing heavy as the exhaustion of the day and the fever pulled at you. Bucky noticed, his eyes softening. Without another word, he pulled the blanket over you and quietly left the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

You lay there, your mind racing despite your body’s exhaustion. His touch, his words, they lingered long after he’d gone. You hated that he still had this effect on you. And yet, deep down, there was a part of you that wanted to believe him, wanted to let your guard down. But after everything, how could you?

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

You woke up, feeling the weight of exhaustion still clinging to your limbs, but something was different. The fever that had clouded your mind the night before was gone, leaving you with a sense of relief. Slowly, you sat up, glancing around the room. Bucky wasn’t here. It was the first time you’d been alone in the apartment since arriving.

The quietness felt strange, almost eerie. For a moment, you simply sat there, trying to shake the grogginess from your mind. Eventually, curiosity got the better of you, and you decided to explore the space. The apartment was large, meticulously designed, but there was a personal touch to it that reflected both of you. You wandered through the rooms until you stopped at his office.

The door creaked slightly as you pushed it open. His office was a mess—papers and law books were scattered across the desk and shelves, as if he’d been too busy to organize anything. But something caught your eye, an area that was surprisingly tidy amidst the chaos: his vinyl collection. It was neatly arranged, displayed with care, each record in perfect order.

Bucky loved collecting vinyls. You remembered that about him. As you approached the collection, your eyes scanned the spines of the records. Most of them were from artists both of you used to listen to. Your fingers grazed over the albums, a nostalgic pang in your chest.

Then, something unusual caught your attention. Tucked between the vinyl sleeves was a piece of paper, slightly worn. Frowning, you pulled it out and realized it wasn’t just any paper—it was a letter.

You stared at the handwriting, your heart skipping a beat. It was Bucky’s handwriting. Slowly, your eyes widened as recognition dawned on you. It was a letter he never sent. A letter to you.

Your pulse quickened as a rush of emotions hit you. Should you open it? Guilt twisted in your stomach, but then that familiar voice—the devil on your shoulder—spoke louder. He wrote this for you. He never sent it, but it’s yours.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you quickly hid the letter under your shirt, glancing around the office as if someone might walk in at any moment. Your heart raced as you hurried back to your room, the letter burning against your skin like a secret you weren’t supposed to know.

Once in the safety of your room, you sat on the bed, staring at the letter in your hands. The room felt smaller, your breaths shallow. Was this right? Should you be reading this? But you couldn’t stop yourself.

With trembling fingers, you opened the first letter.

It was short, written in Bucky’s familiar scrawl.

"I’m sorry. I know everything we went through must have been painful for you, more than I ever realized at the time. We were close, but we never truly communicated. I knew you were hurting, and I did nothing to stop it. That’s my fault. I’m the one to blame.

One day, if we ever meet again, I hope you’ll give me another chance. You deserve happiness, and I wish you the best of luck in finding it, even if it’s not with me."

You blinked, feeling a lump form in your throat. You hadn’t expected this. An apology. Words you thought you’d never hear—or read—from him. Your hands shook as you carefully unfolded another letter.

"I read your article. It’s really good. I always knew you’d make a great writer. You’ve always had a way with words. I’m proud of you. I hope you have a safe journey."

The words blurred for a moment as tears threatened to spill from your eyes. You never knew he was following your work, that he cared enough to read what you wrote. It felt like a secret window into a part of him you thought had closed off to you long ago.

With a deep breath, you opened the final letter, bracing yourself.

"I’m worried about you. Going to a war zone as a journalist—it’s dangerous, and I can’t stop thinking about it. Please be careful. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you. I pray every day that you’re safe."

Your chest tightened as you finished reading, the rawness of his words washing over you. Bucky had been worried about you all this time. His concern, his pride—it was all there, hidden in these letters you were never supposed to find. And yet, here you were, holding the pieces of his heart in your hands.

It was overwhelming. You didn’t know how to feel—angry, confused, touched. All you knew was that the walls you had built to protect yourself were starting to crack, and you weren’t sure if you could put them back together.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

You and Bucky met Greg again to prepare before heading to the TV station for the debate. Greg, always thinking ahead, was pacing as he went over the final details. His sharp gaze darted between you and Bucky, trying to ensure everything would go smoothly.

As the minutes ticked by, Greg suddenly paused, his face lighting up with an idea. "Perhaps," he suggested, "before Bucky heads out for the debate, you could give him a peck on the cheek. You know, for the cameras. A little show of affection can go a long way."

You hesitated for a moment, but then nodded, your expression neutral. "Okay," you agreed simply. The decision seemed easy enough—just a small gesture for the public eye. However, from the corner of your eye, you noticed Bucky’s brow arch slightly, a glint of surprise crossing his features.

Bucky glanced at you, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, "How about a kiss on the lips instead?"

You rolled your eyes, unable to hide your exasperation. "Shut up," you muttered, though the warmth of the moment lingered between you. Bucky chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the brief banter as Greg scribbled down notes, already planning how to work this into the media strategy.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

The day of the debate finally arrived. The room buzzed with tension as cameras were positioned, reporters whispered amongst themselves, and the stage was set. You stood backstage with Bucky, watching as the other candidates made their entrances. Edgar, running for president, was calm and composed, the very image of a seasoned politician.

Then there was Brock, another candidate for vice president—and Bucky’s long-time rival. The two had been at odds for years, their competition fierce and personal. The air between them crackled with animosity as they took their places.

As the debate began, the moderators threw sharp, pointed questions at the candidates, each probing their policies and character. Bucky was in his element, answering each question with practiced ease. His words were clear, his tone confident, and his delivery flawless. Every question thrown at him was met with a precise, well-thought-out response.

Moderator: "Mr. Barnes, what would be your first priority in office?"

Bucky: "My first priority is to address healthcare. Ensuring affordable and accessible healthcare is the cornerstone of a strong nation. We must invest in preventive care and make it easier for families to access the support they need."

The audience nodded in agreement, and even the other candidates seemed to respect his answer. Brock, however, was struggling. Every time he tried to match Bucky’s eloquence, he stumbled, his frustration mounting with each failed attempt to make a point.

Moderator: "Mr. Rumlow, what is your stance on education reform?"

Brock: "Well, uh, we need to… to invest in schools, yes, but we can’t just throw money at the problem. We need accountability, and we need… um, better results."

His answer lacked the conviction and clarity that Bucky’s did, and you could see the frustration in Brock’s face as the debate went on.

The tension between the two men simmered, especially as Bucky continued to outshine him with every answer. But just when it seemed like Bucky had the upper hand, Brock saw an opening—and took it.

At the height of the debate, Brock's voice cut through the air, sharp and malicious. "You talk a lot about honesty and integrity, Barnes. But what about your brother? Didn’t he hit someone and never face any punishment?"

The room fell silent, a heavy, uncomfortable stillness filling the space. From your spot backstage, you could feel the tension roll off Bucky in waves. His muscles tensed beside you, his jaw clenched tight. This was his darkest family secret, one he’d hoped to keep buried. But now, here it was, dragged into the spotlight in front of a national audience.

Bucky’s hands curled into fists at his sides, his eyes narrowing as he shot Brock a cold, hard glare. For a moment, it looked like Bucky might lose his composure. The silence stretched on, the entire room holding its breath, waiting for his response.

But then, with a deep breath, Bucky straightened, his voice steady but laced with restrained anger. "My brother's actions were reprehensible, and there is no excuse for them. But unlike my opponent, I believe in accountability—and my family has taken steps to address that privately. This debate is about the future of this country, not digging up personal attacks to avoid talking about real issues."

The room shifted as Bucky’s calm yet pointed response cut through the tension. Brock, visibly thrown by how easily Bucky had deflected his attack, fumbled for his next words, but the damage had been done. Bucky had taken control once again, leaving Brock at a loss.

Backstage, you watched the scene unfold, a mixture of relief and pride swelling within you. Bucky had handled the moment with grace.

But you knew you couldn’t rest. With Shawn’s dark secret now exposed, it meant that your marriage to Bucky could be the next scandal to surface.

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[russellsppttemplates]

I know it’s very early but dad!Lando with a baby girl 🥺

Note: think of this as a sneak peak 🤭 also, this is my first Lando blurb, I hope I did well!!

Tw: postpartum, breastfeeding

"Oh, what a big stretch that one was, little one", Lando cooed at your daughter as he picked her up from her bassinet. She had just woken up from her nap, meaning he would change her diaper, feed her and have some cuddles while he took care of dinner. You had been home from the hospital for eight days now, and the routine had settled in nicely. Lando wanted to be involved as much as possible so he would often be in charge of dinner while you put Matilda to sleep and he had barely let you be the one to change her diapers as he wanted you to rest as much as possible, even when you said you could do it sitting down with a protective matt on the bed.

"You're going to be all clean, let daddy just wipe around here an- oh", he stopped his ministrations. As he wiped the skin on her lower belly, the remnants of her cord falling and sticking to the wipe, "well, that's happened now, so let's get you dressed so we can tell mummy the news. How does that sound?", he said as he grabbed a new diaper, holding her legs gently as he fastened it and put her pants back on.

"Do you think mummy's awake? You did keep us up a bit last night, but let's see. Look, she's awake", Lando said as he walked in the living room, seeing you fold some laundry, "mummy has found the basket I forgot to take to the office so she wouldn't see it", your husband blushed as you shook your head, "I can do this perfectly fine, love", you showed him, exaggerating your movements and folding techniques.

"What was it you wanted to tell me?", you asked as he sat next to you, helping you push the laundry basket to the side so you could feed your daughter, "Matilda's cord fell when I was changing her diaper", Lando said as you pouted, "That's a big milestone, baby girl! And it also means you get to have your first bath, I bet your bum will be thankful, too", you giggled at your little girl.

"The skin is a bit stained yellow, yes. We could do that tonight while dinner cooks. I can take one of mum's casseroles out of the freezer because I honestly don't feel like cooking from scratch today", he admitted, kissing your naked shoulder and looking down at your daughter, happily suckling on your nipple.

When she woke up again and Lando had just turned on the oven, you made your way upstairs to the ensuite, Lando making a stop in the nursery to grab a change of clothes for Matilda and her bath products, "sitting is fine, but kneeling down will be harder for me", you said as you cuddled your daughter's naked body against your chest, covering her with a towell for the time being.

"Why don't you get in with her, hm?", your husband whispered, looking for any sign of uneasiness and finding only comfort and acceptance as he pulled your pants down along with the disposable underwear, kissing your thighs sweetly before coming back up and helping you undo your shirt, making sure Matilda was secure as he stripped your torso of your clothing, "here, I'll hold her so you can get in", he nudged, holding the baby as you stepped inside the tub.

Once you were comfortable, he placed Matilda back against your chest, the baby cursing up against your skin, "it's okay, my love", you kissed the top of her head as Lando checked the water temperature, filling the tub enough for you to not feel cold either and grabbing the small bowl and flannel cloth so he could wet it and run it on your daughter's back, gently extending it to her limbs and her tummy, "do you like that, baby girl? It's warm and nice, smells good, too", he cooed, seeing her react to his voice as she looked around for him.

Placing the warm flannel cloth, Lando muttered "I'll be back in a second" before he got up and you could hear him looking for something in the bedroom, coming back to the bathroom with his camera, "I want to have this memory saved forever", he smiled, turning on the camera as he captured the moment.

Even though you were naked after having given birth to your baby just a few days before, you never felt more comfortable as Lando snapped pictures, kissing your cheek and Matilda's head as he found the angles he wanted.

"C'mon, little one", he said as he set the camera by the sink, "let's get you dressed", opening her towell and wrapping it around her, her embroidered name on the hood making her look deliciously cute as he set her on your shared bed, coming back to the bathroom to help you out too, "gorgeous, mummy, breathtakingly gorgeous", he complimented, kissing your lips before you out on your robe, walking to the bedroom.

Lando dried her body, putting on her diaper as you rubbed the lotion on her skin, kissing each of her fingers and smiling at your husband's attentiveness to her. Seeing the love of your life tending to your daughter was a sight to behold indeed.

"Don't you and mummy look cute in your pyjamas, Matilda?", he said as you buttoned your shirt, noticing the unintentionally matching clothes, the striped material on your shirt matching the giraffe on Matilda's bodysuit, "yes, you do! Yes, you do! C'mon, daddy gets to have cuddles with you while me and mummy have dinner", he cooed, grabbing the sling and walking downstairs with you, ready for another night in with his favourite girls.

(Thank you for submitting an ask 🤍)

[thebearmage]

Hi! Could I request an one shot about Five&Wife!Reader set in S3 at the wedding, where Y/N worries about Five's drinking frenzy and takes care of him that night? Ya know, that usual drunk words are honest words, world ending stuff etc. I'm just into fluff right now 😭 Maybe Five and Y/N are mentally and physically the same age and know each other from the apocalypse to make it make sense. I loved In Their Arms! Five deserves love. If it's not something you're interested in to write don't worry💜

Put that down!!

Five Hargreeves x Wife!Reader

Summary: During Slone and Luther's wedding, Five goes all out on his drinking. You, being the responsible one, remain sober to take care of him. It goes as one would expect.

NOTE: I went for a bit more humor and angst here too, hope that's okay. Also, The Reader is a Speedster like The CW's Flash. So you can also time travel.

Also (F/C), for anyone who doesn't know, means Favorite Color.

Five and reader are both 18+

"Ah, here we go,"

You turn to look and see where Five is going. The alcohol, of course.

"Oh no," You put your face in your hands, "There goes my plans for the night,"

You and Five are happily married. You were once number 8, born with superspeed and the many different abilities that came with it.

When Five ran off that day, you had used your speed to follow him. You both traveled through time, finding it fun before Five got stuck in the future. Your time travel abilities weren't as limited as his, so you could've left. But you hadn't known if you could take Five with you, so you'd stayed. You didn't want him to be alone.

You and Five were happy together. You and Five had a daughter named Delores and lived in an abandoned library. Life was good and simple then.

Then The Handler showed up and swept you both into trauma after trauma. And then, to top it all off, when you both finally went back, you both got stuck in your 18-year-old bodies.

Now, after failing to save the world a third time, you were at Luther and Sloane's wedding watching as your husband went to get drunk.

You were not much of a drinker yourself, you never really liked the taste and HATED it when Five drank. Tonight, however, you'd let it slide, but you knew you'd have your hands full looking after him.

As the night progressed, you watched your husband slowly get more and more drunk.

You had fun though. Everyone dancing together was enjoyable and you had used the (F/C) lightning that came off your body when running to spice up the floor a bit.

You were twirling around in your dress when you heard Five's voice. You watched, trying so hard not to laugh, as his drunk-as-fuck-ass gave a moving speech to Luther.

You liked Five's singing though, you walked up to the stage and joined him. Wrapping an arm around him.

When everyone moved onto the patio, you had gone off to power your nose. So Five had gone out by himself.

When you went to find the group, half of them were gone, including Five.

"Oh no," you mumble, you stop Luther as he starts to walk Sloane inside, "Where's Five?"

Luther chuckles, "Said he was going to the buffet,"

You sigh and superspeed there, looking around. No Five. You growl and continue to run through the hotel. The (F/C) sparks and a strong breeze followed you everywhere you went.

You soon found Five wandering throughout the halls with cereal in his hands. You zip in front of him and smile.

"There you are,"

Five stumbles at the breeze you make but looks up and smiles when he sees you.

"Y/N!!" He jumps up and glomps you. You're so thankful that minor super strength is part of superspeed because if it wasn't, Five would have knocked you over.

"Hey, baby," you whisper, kissing his cheek, "What are we up to, hmm?"

Five blinks heavily a few times, looking at the cereal in his hands before shrugging, "I dunno,"

You laugh and kiss him softly, "Maybe it's time take you to bed,"

Five wriggles his eyebrows and locks his arms around your neck, "Take me to bed, huh?"

You playfully push his face away from yours, "Not like that. That's the LAST thing you need. I mean sleep, mister,"

Five whines, "Nooo, the night is still young!" He throws his arms out dramatically, "and I have plans,"

You raises your eyebrows in mock fear, "Plans?"

"Plans! Yes!" Five slurs poking your chest, "Lots and lots of plans!"

Five then stumbles over to the plant in the corner of the room, you wince as he vomits. Kneeling down next to him, and rubbing his back.

"There, there, sweetie, get it out," you urge, "It's alright,"

“With everything we discussed, it’d be folly to wait,” A voice said. You snap your head around and even Five looks curious.

The white buffalo suite door is cracked open, and you two can see Reginald, “There is no time. I can’t do this without you.”

Both you and Five press against the crack in the door, straining to see who he’s talking to. You use your speed to faze through the door, only for a moment, and see Allison.

“Do we have a deal?”

"Shit," you whisper, gently coaxing Five up, "Come on, baby, we have to go,"

"What why?" Five asked, already forgetting what just happened, "Wh-" then he wobbles "Oh shit,"

Five tips backward into your arms. You weren't prepared this time so his weight sends you both into the elevator. You grunt as you land on the hard floor, with Five completely passed out on top of you.

The doors close and you sigh. You knew Allison was unstable but this...this meant trouble. You look at Five in your lap and smile. Allison will have to wait, you have your husband to take care of.

As the doors slowly open again, you pull Five to his feet and start dragging him down the hall to your room. He wakes up half-way there are starts to protest.

"No! Please! I wanna keep going," he mumbles, you shake your head.

"You're way too drunk to do anything, my love," you say, Five shakes his own head.

"Am not!"

You look at him, "Oh really? Can you look at that clock and tell me what it says,"

"It says 'Five is not fucking drunk'" he turns around, all proud of himself. You only look at him unamused,

"Okay, bed time!"

"NOOOOOOOOO!"

You drag Five to the door and lock the door. He instantly blinks away.

"FIVE!"

You run out to find him running down the hall, cackling.

"You can't catch me!"

"Oh, for the love of!"

You speed up to him, only for him to blink again. You rub your temples.

"Come on, Five. You need sleep and I'm growing tired. Let's go to bed,"

Five, appearing at the end of the hallway, tilts his head in concertation, "Nah,"

"I'll snuggle you," You offer, "Just how you like it,"

"Ooh!" Five seems interested for a moment, then shakes his head, "Nah!"

He's gone once again, causing you to huff. You wounder if it was better for him to just run himself out.

You shake your head, you can't leave him. You run after him.

Soon, the entire hotel is light up with blue and (F/C) lights as you chase Five around the hotel.

You find Five pilling a bunch of mannequins into some machine and pouring soap in.

"No!" You cry, causing him to stop, "Put that down!"

Five beams and holds the soap closer,

"No! Put it down. Put it...down!"

Five pouts and drops the soap, "You're no fun sometimes, Y/N,"

Aaaannnnd there he goes. You decide to just wait it out. The next few hours you run around, following Five but no longer trying to stop his drunken antics.

Before long you find him snuggled up under the radiator in the kitchen. You smile and shake your head fondly before picking him up.

He snuggles your chest as his eyes flutter open, "Y/N?"

"Yes, my love, it's me," You shift him a bit to get a better hold on him, "I'm taking you back to our room,"

He nods and lets his arms dangle under him, "You're so amazing, you know that," he murmurs, "So...so...amazing,"

You laugh, "Thank you, baby,"

Five takes a bit of your dress in his fingers, "Is this the one I bought you?"

"Bought?" You chuckle, "You mean stole, but yes,"

Five sighs happily, resting his head on your chest and looking up at you, "You're so pretty," his smile is dreamy, "I love you so much,"

You smile and finally reach the room, you faze in and walk over to the bed, laying Five down.

His body relaxes into the mattress as he sighs in bliss. You slowly help him take off his shoes and vest before helping him change into more comfortable clothes.

"I love you," he mumbles for the 10th time, "I love you so much,"

"I love you too," you smile, quickly changing your own clothes using your speed, Five smiles.

"I love your power," he picks at his nail slightly, "It's so beautiful and powerful,"

You smile, "Yours is too," you lay down next to him, "Now sleep honey, it'll be alright,"

Five hugs you like a koala, arms around your chest, legs around your waist, "I'm so glad I get to spend my final days with you," he mumbles, "I love you,"

You kiss him softly, "I love you too, now rest,"

Five nuzzles into your chest. You smile and run a hand through his hair, listening the the noises of the kugelblitz outside.

"I wouldn't mind trying one last time," you mutter, "You're worth saving, my love,"

Five makes a noise in his sleep and you smile,

"Sweetest of dreams, Number Five," you kiss his head, "I will always be with you,"

———————❖———————

I love writing this one! It was so cute and fluffy! I tired to add some humor but idk how I did. Requests are still open so feel free to send in some more! Also, a part three to Mindless will be out soon so look for that. Thanks again for reading!

[citruslullabies]

Something to tide you guys over until my break is done

Dogday headcannons: if he was your husband

Not that he can get LEGALLY married to you

Or choose out the ring he would propose to you with

But you guys had a little makeshift wedding in your backyard

You decided it'd be funny if Dogday wore the dress, which he only agreed to since he wanted to see you happy

Yeahhhhh... That white dress tore. Very quickly. Because it wasn't meant for someone of his size

Luckily it wasn't expensive, just an old white dress of yours

(man I hope it wasn't an expensive one-)

Poppy was kind of the priest, and Kissy was the flower girl

Yeah she uh... Couldn't find a whole lot of flowers so there was some poison ivy in the mix .

Very chaotic wedding day!

But Dogday is very happy to be your husband

He is a little more touchy now, but in a wholesome way

(ex. He will hold your waist in both hands while nuzzling his fat head against your neck)

Very happily refers to himself as your husband

"Oh there's some trash on the table I need to clea-" "your husband will get that for you"

He is absolutely amazed that you guys are married

He can't necessarily buy you gifts, but he does try to do stuff for you

Like cook you breakfast

Those eggs are somehow burnt on the outside and raw on the inside.....

He isn't as good at cooking as he was before the hour of joy. He kind of lost those skills after 10 years

Yes he was a good cook at one point

Shocking, I know

Maybe for you he'll try to get those skills back... Maybe

(do not trust this man with baking until you KNOW he's okay with cooking)

He absolutely adores you though

Snuggles up with you more, and is even more protective over you

Didn't even know that was possible

He is keeping his trusty weapon close.

Which by the way! Who was gonna tell me everyone was giving one to him?? I've seen axes and bricks and pipes-

I wanna jump on that band wagon!! I think it'd be really cool!

I feel like he'd use his old medallion

Sharpen the edges, and use it to slice

Or he'd have a home-crafted knife

I like to think he's very crafty due to his experience with children

But either way, sharp objects

(objects he'd keep close by at all times to make sure you and the others are safe)

You will wake up to him by your side every morning, and go to bed with him by your side every night.

He is absolutely smitten with you and will probably never leave the honeymoon phase

This doesn't mean he won't playfully bully you, vise versa too.

But you guys are in a good loving relationship

Shame that you can't live forever and neither can he.

[clarakiki]

The spring revel

Thranduil x reader

Summary: Spring has come upon the Elvenking's realm and you know exactly how to celebrate it.

Genre: Fluff and Smut

Warnings: afab reader, no use of Y/N, mentions of alcohol and the reader and Thranduil being drunk, explicit smut, children (? not yours just yeah, they're there)

Notes: Hello my loves <3. Coming back to you with many firsts in this fic. It is my first time writing for Thranduil (I have a Lotr phase and can't get him out of my head) and my first time writing smut. So please excuse if it's not that great, I will get better I promise. I appreciate your comments and kudos and I hope you'll enjoy <3

You dance under the trees.

The air is warm and sweet, the torches glow with golden fire and the wine is flowing freely. The lush green canopy hides the night sky above, making it feel like you are in a great hall. 

The spring revel has come upon Eryn Lasgalen, and you are drunk and happy and free. Your bare feet feel the soft grass and cool rock and your short dress sticks to your body while you dance around the hill. 

Other elves twirl and jump around you, they take your hands and laugh with you. Tonight the line between monarch and subject blurs. The lively music of pipes and flutes makes your head spin. 

At the head of a great carved table, which bends under the weight of fruit and soft bread and carafes of deep red wine, sits your husband, The Elvenking, and for once he seems to be enjoying himself. Upon his regal brow rests a crown of flowers and leaves and his lips are curled into a smile. His wine cup is never empty.

Perhaps that is the reason he lets the group of elf children prance around him. Some are singing to the music and dance around happily, some climb on his lap and look up at him with their big bright eyes. One child has dared to touch his crown and braid his hair. For once he lets them, for tonight is a time of celebration for everyone, both a king and a child.

The round ends and you can finally go rest for a moment. Your spent legs carry you towards your own throne, one set next to your husbands. It is a beautiful thing, spun from intertwining branches and adorned with carved writing. Budding blooms decorate the headrest.

With a sigh you plop yourself, rather ungracefully, into your seat. Before your husband can get a word out, the child sitting upon his lap starts: “Please my lady, come and dance with us.” The little boy pleads and others join him.

“Did you not ask your king to dance with you?” you ask, teasing them a little, for you know the answer. 

A choir of intermingling voices answers you, one over the other accusing their Elvenking of refusing them. You laugh quietly at their distress and at your husband's tired sigh. “Alright, dear children, I promise I will come and dance with you. But you have to promise me, to ask your mothers first and then to go to bed on time.” 

The little faces light up and soon they are all scrambling to find their parents. 

“You saved me, my love,” Thranduil laughs, a rare sight. “How was your dance? You seem already spent.” You know he is only joking and you decide to retaliate.

“Oh, it was wonderful,” you exaggerate. “It would be better, however, if a certain elf joined me for the next song?” It is meant only as a jest but he surprises you with his answer.

“Be good to me and I just might,” he voice is low and rich and it does things to you.

“Are you too deep in your cups, or are you teasing me?”

“Believe me, I know how to hold my liquor and I am totally serious,” he smirks and drinks from his cup. You want to kiss the smug look off of his face. You might just do that later tonight. No, you will.

“I shall hold you to that promise.”

“I have never doubted that, dearest, however I believe you already have a different partner for the next round.” He points towards the crowd and suddenly the elf children come running back to you.

You stand up, grab the chalice from Thranduil’s hands and take a deep swig of wine. It is rich and bitter and your face scrunches at the taste. “I will dance with you tonight,”  you warn your husband and let yourself be pulled away by a throng of laughing children.

—

The night has given away into the early hours of morning when you get back to Thranduil. The crowds have thinned, the music slowed and the elf children finally went to sleep.

“My love,” Thranduil says standing up, when he sees you. 

You come together like it’s second nature now. He embraces you around your middle and you hide your face in his chest. He smells sweetly of wine and flowers. You would drown in it if you could. 

He cups your face in his big hands and you look up into those cold cold eyes, warm only for you. “Are you ready to fulfil your promise?” you ask, voice low. 

He smiles at you like he does at no one else and your heart melts at the sight

“My king!” you exclaim drunkenly. “Let us dance around the hill one last time and after that I am ready to go to bed,” mumble the end of the sentence into his shoulder, your eyes already droopy. You feel him shake his head at your antics, but then he swoops down and kisses your forehead. You shiver at the gentle gesture. 

Thranduil, with you half leaning on him, leads you by your hand among the elves. A single lonely flute plays a slow melody, you feel entranced by it. The music and your husband's icy eyes lull you into a sleepy daze. 

You twirl in his arms and reach up to inhale his sweet scent, kissing his white throat. He hums above you and winds you to him even closer.

The air is warm and sweet and spring has come.

—

You are led back to your rooms by your husband, leaning on him, drowsy from both the dancing and the wine. 

You let yourself be lowered on the grand bed and look up at him with droopy eyes. “I want to kiss you,” you do not know if it's the wine giving you this courage or your sleepiness. 

Thranduil smiles at that, and it’s incredibly soft, and obliges you. He tastes like always, rich and full. “I love you,” you mumble into his lips. 

“And I you,” he answers, when he pulls away from you, setting himself gently above your thighs.

You don’t like that he is so far away, so you grab his hips and try to pull him back to you. “Please,” you whine. “Please-.”

“Use your words darling, you know I can’t read your mind,” he tuts above you, while starting to undo the lace on the front of your dress.

“Please touch me, I need you,” the fire is burning in your belly and you feel like you might burn if he doesn’t do something. Anything.

“Let me get you out of this dress first,” he promises and smirks, pleased with himself. His hands are careful, but sure, and soon the silky fabric of the bed covers caresses your skin. 

Then he stands up to undress himself. Reaching to take off his crown, he is a sight, naked, his brow adorned by flowers. Pale smooth skin and ice blue eyes. You swear he’s never been more beautiful than he is now.

“Come here, my love,” you say and he does. He lays over you and kisses you hungerly. You moan into his mouth, tangling your fingers in his silky hair, finding some of the braids the children left there. 

“Let me take care of you, dearest,” Thranduil whispers in your ear and you shiver at the thought. He trails kisses down and down until he reaches your thighs and licks and bites there until you're squirming under him, his strong hands pinning you down by the hips. 

“No more, just touch me,” you whine and pull at his scalp harshly.

To your horror Thranduil stops all together. He pulls himself up, your hands still in his hair. Above you he looks like a mythical being, one you should not have the honour to touch. 

“You have gotten so bold since we met. Commanding you king.”

With his slight smile and a teasing tone he brings you back to earth. “But you love that about me, my king,” you smirk at him.

“That is true, yes, but if I am to comply to you, and truly touch you like you want me to, you shall, let me tease you a little. As a treat,” oh, he sounds so proud, high and mighty. Yes he shall tease you, but you shall repay it tenfold.

With a satisfied smirk on his lips he returns to his task excruciatingly slow. He works you up again, lapping at your thighs, biting the skin there and holding you to the mattress by your waist. So the moment he does, finally tastes you with his tongue, it feels like you're going to burst. Dragon fire burns under your skin, unvanquishable, everlasting. Only he, Thranduil can save you. 

He is savouring your taste, as if it was sweeter than any wine he’s ever tasted. He builds you up to your peak slowly, taking his time, until tears of pleasure sting your eyes. The dam brakes, when you come from his mouth alone. It is deliciously painful.

Thranduil wipes his chin with his hand and lays next to you, circling his arms around you. You kiss him again, tasting yourself on his lips, reaching down to touch him. “Meleth nin,” he moans and you watch as his brows scrunch up and his blue eyes roll in pleasure.

You smile for yourself and kiss his neck, biting and sucking. The white skin goes dark quickly under your lips. In the end you don’t have the heart to deny him, and so you don’t tease him much. Still, he doesn't last long at all, for he was already bursting from eating you out. With a few final strokes he moans loudly and comes in your hand. 

You kiss for a time after that, but you both are too sleepy to continue properly. Thranduil, ever the gentleman, offers himself to go find a towel to clean you with. You would so like to watch him, as he prances around the room in all his glory, but you can’t hold your eyes open. You feel his gentle touches and hear his loving words, but at that you are already half asleep. The last you know is your husband pulling you to his embrace, holding you head to his chest.

You slumber as the dawn breaks.

[writingpastmybedtime]

Cinderella AU

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x f!Reader

Summary: The classic Cinderella AU. It's heavily inspired by the Disney live-action remake, but with a few tweaks here and there.

Word Count: 8k, oops..?

Warnings: None, except for extra cute Prince Sebastian.

A/N: It’s my first time writing for Seb at this length & I'm kind of proud of how it turned out. Oh, and I gave Sebastian the nickname 'Bash'. Hope you love it as much as I do!<3

Once upon a time, or however the story begins, there lived a girl named Y/N. She was the most beautiful thing in her parents’ eyes and held the kindest heart. They lived happily in a secluded small mansion. They weren’t the richest per se, but they could keep up with the house and even had a few workers in the kitchen and garden. 

As time went by, the girl discovered a passion for music and playing the piano. Her sweet melodies often graced the halls of the house, and whenever she wasn’t behind the piano, she had her face buried deep in a journal, writing down every last thought that had occurred to her that day.

Alas, the time that had passed had also come bearing sombre news. The little girl’s mother had fallen ill with a disease so rare, there was nothing left to do but wait. Those three months spent waiting were the hardest for the girl, as she was always staying beside her mother’s bed, reading to her, brushing her hair, and playing lovely tunes on the piano to soothe her mother’s mind. 

It wasn’t until one night, that the clock in the writing room, which her mother so deeply loved, stopped working and the house suddenly grew more quiet.

Years passed, and Y/N grew even more beautiful. She was always happy and kind, helping out everyone around the house and being there for her father. Y/N’s father was a merchant, so it was not uncommon that he had many trips abroad and many foreign friends. He had a certain way with him, his friends even called him a man of many words. He always found a way to insert an inspirational quote into whatever conversation was going on. His personal favourite, however, was a quote about courage. 

Courage starts with showing up and letting ourselves be seen.

“Darling, would you accompany me to the garden?” Her father asked her. Of course, she followed him with a smile on her face. He began to tell her of a widowed woman, with two daughters just a few years older than Y/N. He explained that he’d known the woman's late husband, having met him many times on his travels. 

“They need a place to stay and they need a sense of security,” he began shyly, before continuing. “I think I can offer them that, I think we can offer them that.”

Y/N smiled as she took her father's hands in hers. “Father, if it’s something that would make you happy, it would make me even happier.” He smiled at her and pulled her into a hug.

Madam Deveraux was a widowed noblewoman with two daughters, Arabella and Isadora. The Madam herself was mostly reserved and you could never tell what she was thinking just by looking at her. Her gaze always remained strong, even when the death of her dear husband crushed her spirit. As months passed after the tragic death, the demeanour of Madam Deveraux changed. Once just a composed and modest lady, was now hardened at heart, with only one true goal. To see her two daughters succeed and be wed off to rich husbands, no matter the cost.

Arabella, the eldest daughter was certainly pretty on the eyes, however, she had a mouth to her that diminished her beauty to a certain degree. Never afraid to speak her mind and even once in a while throw in a more vulgar term here or there. She was fascinated with all kinds of different adult romance books - that’s where she probably learned those indecent phrases. She also loved to draw, but truth be told, she wasn’t really any good at it.

Isadora, like her sister, was also beautiful in her own way. She certainly wasn’t as crude as her sister, but still had a peculiar sense of self. Her ego was probably the biggest between the three of them. Every reflective surface she saw made her gaze at herself longingly, always fixing her hair or makeup. Always whispering sweet affirmations to herself. She knew she was the prettiest person, whenever she walked into a crowded room. Even if the snobby personality sometimes made her mother’s eyes roll.

After a few weeks, it was time again for Y/N’s father to take his leave. Y/N felt crushed, and a sense of dread filled her heart, making her father promise that he’d return.

Unfortunately, on his travels back from overseas, Y/N’s father fell ill and was never able to return to her. It saddened her deeply, but due to her chores, given to her by her step-mother, she didn’t have time to dwell on her grief. 

Months passed, with her chores growing bigger and bigger. She had given up her bedroom because Arabella and Isadora were too cramped up in their own smaller one. Unfortunately for Y/N, instead of getting the smaller room for herself, she had to stay in a storage room right next to the kitchen. It wasn’t the most tedious place to be, for someone somewhere must’ve had to have even worse living conditions. That thought kept her appreciating her commodities and trying to tidy up the tiny storage room as best as she could.

“Y/N, could you be a dear and help your sisters with their dresses?” Madam Deveraux’s cold voice could be heard from upstairs, as Y/N was just finishing up setting the table in the kitchen. Sighing, but still with a smile on her face, the girl walked upstairs to assist her step-sisters. Arabella was tugging Isadora’s corset, to make it more tight, as Isadora was standing near the mirror letting out gasps of air. 

“A little bit of help, please?” Isadora asked in her saccharine voice, looking at Y/N through her mirror. Y/N nodded and took over from Arabella, pulling and pulling until the corset was perfectly on Isadora’s body. 

“Hmm, I look good, don’t you think so?” Isadora spun around, now in her huge pink sparkling dress, which did not do her beauty any justice. Y/N, however, was not one to judge. She just smiled lightly and nodded. 

“Pfft, as if you had any sense of style,” Isadora went to grab her rings, before putting them on her dainty fingers. Her brown hair was curled in an updo and she had put on a plethora of perfume, that was way too sweet, but ironically, fit her perfectly.

“Hah, you’re right sissy, this wench does not know anything about fashion. I mean look at how she’s dressed right now.” Arabella looked at Y/N from head to toe, her face grimacing. Y/N lowered her head to look at her grey dress. Yes, it wasn’t as fancy as the gowns on her step-sisters, but it had belonged to her mother. The grey dress made her feel some kind of sanity, running around doing chores for the Deverauxs’. Picking invisible lint from the pocket of her skirt, the step-sisters just laughed at how humiliated Y/N looked.

“Yes, you do look absolutely atrocious as of late,” Isadora smirked as Arabella grinned, taking joy in embarrassing Y/N. “You’re just plain ugly,” the eldest sister managed to get out before laughing.

“Here, take this, go buy yourself something prettier,” Isadora scoffed as she handed Y/N three silver pieces. You could not get anything fairly pretty with that kind of sum. Y/N had given up on pretty dresses a while ago, being content with the ones her mother had left her. She shook her head at the silver coins, not accepting the pity donation. 

“Fine have it your way, I was just trying to be nice,” Isadora threw the silver pieces on the floor as Arabella snorted in an unladylike manner. “Now leave, as I remember correctly Mama wanted you to go down to the forest to pick up some flowers for the gathering tonight.”

Y/N nodded to the girls, before hastily leaving the room, blinking back tears. She had grown accustomed to their derogatory comments, but that didn’t mean a part of her always ached at their remarks. Never had she been anything, but good and friendly towards the girls and their mother. She shook her head, as if to shake it clear from the depressing thoughts and picked up a dark-brown wooden basket from the kitchen table.

The walk from the house to the forest was always Y/N’s favourite. As soon as the house with the hectic people inside of it disappeared from her field of view, a certain kind of calmness filled Y/N. It was as if she could finally breathe without restrictions. Even the world around her seemed a little bit more saturated. Birds were flying around, singing their beautiful songs; it was spring after all. Y/N started to hum a melody she used to love to play the most on her piano.

Y/N twirled around and smiled, suddenly feeling joyous and elated. She closed her eyes, still twirling, liking the feel of the afternoon sun on her face. A total bliss. Suddenly, when taking her last twirl, she felt her foot get stuck on a tree root and braced herself for a fall.

However, the fall did not come. 

Instead, strong hands had grasped her waist, holding her a few centimetres off the ground. Y/N finally opened her eyes, the sun making her squint a little before finally her vision was back in focus. She was looking into blue eyes. Into the most gorgeous blue eyes she’d ever seen. Serene, deep blue eyes, that she could get lost in. That she did get lost in.

“Miss, are you alright?” Y/N blinked, before realising the man was still holding her. She stumbled to get out of his grasp, before wiping her dress from invisible dirt. Her cheeks flushed pink, suddenly feeling embarrassed. 

“Yes, I’m fine. Thank you..?” Y/N said, waiting for the person’s name to finish her sentence. To thank him personally. She now had time to look at the man that had so gracefully caught her. He had brown medium-length hair, which seemed abnormally soft and Y/N wished she could tread her fingers through it. The man smiled, no grinned rather, and Y/N was taken aback by how handsome this stranger looked.

“You really don’t know who I am?” The man chuckled and Y/N shook her head quizzically. Was she supposed to know him? She browsed through her brain, wondering who this man could be; maybe she’d met him before. But no, she’d remember him. She could never forget those eyes.

Y/N saw a peculiar look in his gaze before his grin grew even bigger and he introduced himself. “My name’s Bash,” he said, and Y/N furrowed her brows, but smiling nonetheless. 

“That’s a peculiar name,” she spoke, before realising her comment was nowhere near acceptable nor did it come off as friendly. The man, Bash, as she’d learned, let out a genuine laugh at the comment. Y/N felt embarrassed and was about to apologise before he stopped her.

“I like your candour,” he smirked. “It’s actually a nickname. A name that my father calls me whenever I haven’t done anything to upset him.” Y/N smiled, no longer feeling embarrassed, but just a little bit of something else. A strange warm feeling was creeping up in her chest. 

“Well, thank you, Bash, for catching me. And I’m sorry you even had to, I’m not normally so clumsy.”

“It’s no problem, besides, what even is a beautiful girl like you doing out in these woods anyway?” Bash asked, not being able to take his eyes off Y/N. He’d never seen a girl so beautiful before. And ‘beautiful’ was not even enough to describe her. 

“Oh, I’m just on my way to get flowers for a party later on. Which does remind me, that I should be on my way,” Y/N looked down at her basket, which she hadn’t fortunately dropped, when she had stumbled. Realisation hit her then, that he’d called her beautiful, but she couldn’t believe it. Perhaps she’d heard wrong?

“Do you work nearby?” Bash asked, his eyes still admiring her own. He did not want to leave her this soon after just meeting. But her duty called and truth be told, so did his. He wasn’t even supposed to be out here. He was out riding with his horse when suddenly he heard the most beautiful voice humming somewhere nearby. Having left his horse a few metres behind, was when he finally saw her. She was twirling and twirling and completely not noticing the tree root that was about to make her fall on the next twirl. Thankfully, he was fast and had caught her on time. 

“Yes, I do. Are you from around here as well?” Y/N asked politely. Knowing that she should be going now, but his eyes were just too mesmerising, to not look away from, that she stayed grounded.

“I actually work at the castle,” he said, his eyes turning pink as if he was embarrassed about the notion. Y/N smiled at that. “Must be nice,” she thought out loud, as Bash just shook his head at her comment.

“Depending on the day, it can be a little bit too much sometimes.�� Y/N nodded at that, trying to understand what it must be like working amidst hundreds of people. Working for royalty.

“Well, it’s like my father always taught me,” she began as she gave him the sweetest smile. “Courage starts with showing up and letting ourselves be seen.” Bash raised his eyebrow at that. “And do you feel like that?” 

“Huh?”

“Do you feel seen?” He inquired, and Y/N shrugged. The question was raw - she hadn’t expected that. Did she feel seen? No, not as of late. But she couldn’t tell him that, now could she? She noticed the sun had turned just a tiny bit more golden and felt fear rush through her. She was supposed to be making supper for the Deverauxs and their guests.

“Look, it’s been wonderful having this chat with you, but I really must take my leave,” she nodded to him, taking her basket and turning around, completely forgetting about the flowers. 

Bash felt a tinge of sadness in him, before nodding and giving her a final smile. “Well, it was wonderful making your acquaintance. I hope to see you again someday.” Y/N turned around at his voice. She nodded, grinning at him.

“So do I.”

“Soon,” Bash said and saw Y/N blush, before finally taking her leave. 

She found some wild poppies just behind the house and hoped they’d do. Fortunately, Madam Deveraux only gave her a quizzical look, before dismissing her. She took a breath, thanking the gods that her step-mother did not freak out over the flower arrangement. All evening as she was making supper for everyone, her thoughts went back to the kind stranger she’d met. 

Bash.

Y/N was browsing through the city fair, currently looking at new books she wished she could buy when suddenly a horn was heard above in the upper city. She glanced up from the booth towards the sound, seeing everyone gathering around.

“Hear ye, hear ye,” a man in a formal outfit began. Behind him stood many other men, dressed the same.

These were men from the castle, she concluded. Her thoughts went to Bash for a second, before focusing back on the man giving out the information.

“As requested by His Royal Highness, Prince Sebastian, there is to be a ball, for two weeks hence, in honour of him choosing a bride. As per his wishes, the ball is open to everyone in the country.”

Squeals and cheers were coming from every corner of the city at the news. Y/N suddenly felt very happy. Maybe this was her chance to see Bash again in the castle, after all, he did say he worked there.

Having made her way back home, she rushed to Madam Deveraux, who was sitting in the living room with Arabella and Isadora. The latter was playing the piano. Correction, trying to play, for Y/N, did not know it was possible to make that kind of noise on the delicate instrument.

“What has gotten you in a rush? Your dress is all dirty again,” Arabella scrunched her face, clearly disgusted by Y/N’s clothing once again.

“I was just in the city when they announced there is to be a ball in two weeks as the Prince is to finally choose a bride. It’s open to everyone.” She smiled as she saw Madam Deveraux jump up from the couch, her daughters following her. Suddenly they screamed and the two girls jumped around.

“I’m going to be the new princess,” Isadora squealed before Arabella nudged her on the shoulder.

“No, I am!” Arabella insisted before Madam Deveraux made them quiet down.

“Y/N, you have to go into town and get three beautiful dresses,” Madam Deveraux smiled at her, a new prosperous future in mind for her daughters. She knew they had to look their best to catch the eye of the Prince.

“Yes, yes I will. Thank you for letting me come with you.” Y/N said as she was about to leave back to the city, her mind joyous and excited. Madam Deveraux had finally accepted her as part of the family and she got to go to the ball as well.

“Come with us?” Madam Deveraux scoffed and raised her eyebrow. “Why in the seven hells do you think you’re coming with us?”

Y/N started to say something before she was rudely cut off.

“Nuh, uh-uh.” Madam Deveraux pointed her finger at Y/N. “You do not belong at events like these. You will not go, I forbid you.” 

Y/N felt tears in her eyes, not understanding why she was being so mean to her. 

“Oh, Mama, look. You’ve made the duckling cry.” Arabella snickered and Isadora laughed.

“But why? All I’ve ever done is be nice to you. I do all these chores, you ask of me, and more.” Y/N started shaking but was reluctant to let out real tears. They cannot see me cry, she thought to herself.

“Have you ever considered that you’re maybe just not enough? Not enough pretty, not enough smart,” Madam Deveraux took steps toward Y/N, placing a finger under her jaw, pulling Y/N to look at her. “You’re no one.” Madam Deveraux turned away, before muttering instructions that Y/N was to buy dresses for the three of them the following day.

TWO WEEKS LATER

After helping the Deveraux sisters into their beautiful ball gowns and doing their hair, Y/N watched them leave in a big beige carriage. Letting her shoulders shrug, she finally let out the tears she’d been holding in. Y/N had hoped to visit the ball as well, hoping to see the blue-eyed man who had taken over her thoughts.

Y/N heard footsteps behind her and her name being called, before turning around and seeing Anastasia, an older lady that she’d known all of her life. Anastasia was a neighbour, a lovely woman, who always took care of Y/N whenever it was needed. Anastasia did not like the way Madam Deveraux had started treating Y/N after her father died and even offered to let Y/N move in with her. However, Y/N always passed the opportunity down, saying that she made a promise to her mother and father to look after the house.

“My dear,” Anastasia came closer, taking Y/N’s hand and seeing the tear trails on her face. “Why are you not at the ball? Everyone’s invited.” 

Y/N shook her head, before explaining that Madam Deveraux had forbidden her to attend the event. Anastasia pursed her lips, before muttering, more to herself than to Y/N.

“This will not do,” then louder, “this will not do at all.” She grabbed Y/N’s arm and started pulling her towards her house which was just a few minutes further away. “You will go to the ball, end of story.”

“But how? I have no horse to take me, let alone a carriage. Nor do I have a dress that is suitable for this kind of event.” Y/N saw Anastasia grin, before ushering her faster towards her house.

“Have courage, dear one. I will make sure you get everything.”

And just as Anastasia said, Y/N had it all. Anastasia was a well-endowed lady, who did not have the joy of getting to raise a daughter of her own. No, she was instead blessed with three sons. So it was mere luck, and perhaps a little bit of something else, that Anastasia had a beautiful periwinkle blue dress in her closet waiting to be worn. It fit Y/N perfectly as if it was made only for her to wear.

Anastasia did Y/N’s hair next, whilst explaining that she’d already talked with her personal chauffeur, who was to take Y/N to the ball. 

“I cannot begin to thank you enough, Lady Anastasia,” Y/N had tears in her eyes, although this time they were there for another reason. Gratitude.

“Oh, stop it, dear. I’ve told you a thousand times to not call me that, it makes me feel old,” she grimaced, before helping Y/N into the carriage. As Y/N took a step, Anastasia saw her shoes, which looked worn out and definitely didn't go along with the dress. She muttered something under her breath, before looking at Y/N again.

“There’s something in a box inside the carriage. Make use of them. And make sure to dance.” Y/N furrowed her brows, trying to understand, before she took her seat and felt the carriage take off slowly. “But wait, what about Madam Deveraux and the step-sisters? Won’t they recognize me?” Y/N asked worriedly, looking back at the kind woman.

“Oh, don’t worry about something so trivial, my dear, it’s already been taken care of,” Anastasia winked, before remembering, “and before I forget, try to return at midnight. I cannot explain why, but it’s imperative that you do so. You have to be back when the clock strikes twelve.” With a smile, Anastasia stayed behind, waving at Y/N. 

Y/N was a bit confused, even more so when she opened the box that was on the seat in front of her. Beautiful shoes, made out of iridescent glass, were inside the box. She gasped when she took one in her hand, not even feeling the weight of it, expecting it to be heavier. She slipped off her slippers, before trying on the glass shoes. 

They fit perfectly. As if these shoes, just like the dress, were made just for her. Maybe Anastasia was a witch? No, that sounds too evil. Maybe she was her Fairy Godmother. Y/N chuckled at the silly idea of magic but still felt curious about the predicament she was in.

Y/N didn’t have enough time to dwell on the whereabouts of her dress and shoes before she saw the castle in front of her. Only a few minutes separated her from the majestic building.

“Courage starts with showing up and letting ourselves be seen,” she whispered to herself, looking longingly at the castle ahead.

The castle itself was beautiful. Y/N had never seen a building so marvellous in her life. Taking slow steps through the garden in front of the castle, she was in awe. Twirling around and trying to take it all in. The castle inside was just about the same. Mesmerising to the point of Y/N being left speechless. She imagined what it’d be like to live here. So in contrast to her current living conditions.

Before she knew it, she was standing behind a huge door, with two guards standing on each side of it. This must be the ballroom, she figured. She gave a nod and a curtsy to the guards before they nodded in return and opened the doors.

She heard the buzz of the voices first, before walking towards the balcony that was connected to the ground floor of the ballroom. About a hundred and fifty other people were mingling downstairs, not counting the guards and other workers. 

She began to make her descent down the marvellous staircase, walking slowly, as if not to ruin the dress and not to stumble on her feet. She felt anxious, before reminding herself of her father's wise words again.

It was then that Bash saw her, from across the room. He’d been waiting for her for hours now. Hoping that she’d grace the castle with her beauty. And what a beauty she was, indeed. He was left bewildered when he saw her. She looked otherworldly.

She looked ethereal.

As if they were magnets, he felt an invisible string pull him towards her. He apologised to the princess currently in front of him and nodded to his father, before taking his leave and stepping onto the dance floor. 

Y/N had just reached the last step when she noticed the crowd parting and giving her way. At the end of the tunnel of people, she saw him.

It was him, it was truly him.

Bash.

And oh, the way he looked at Y/N. As if she’d hung the stars in the sky. 

He grinned when he was finally near enough to notice the sparkling eyeshadow on her eyelids and the pink tone of her lips. 

“Wow, just wow,” Bash let out, scratching the back of his head. A habit of his, whenever he was nervous. “I’m speechless, really.” Bash said, before taking Y/N’s hand and placing a delicate kiss on her knuckles. 

“You look breathtaking,” he said, looking up. Y/N blushed heavily, still not having noticed the ballroom growing quiet. All she saw was him. He was wearing a dark blue suit, with small gold intricate details, that made him look regal. It was then, Y/N realised, he was probably not just a mere worker in a castle.

“Would you allow me this dance?” He said as he stood up straight again. Y/N nodded, not trusting her words at the moment. He took her hand gently on his, placing his other on her waist. The pull between them only grew, the magnetic feel forcing them to be as close as possible.

And then they danced. He was a wonderful leader, and fortunately for Y/N, she was not so bad herself on a dancefloor, having taken dance lessons in her youth. The pair only had eyes for each other, completely ignoring the looks they were getting all over the ballroom. Some were jealous, some were elated, and some were more than angry with the outcome happening right now.

Y/N grinned as Bash twirled her not once, but twice, and then made her fall into his arms. The song ended and they were both out of breath. Y/N felt Bash put a strand of hair behind her ear, looking longingly into her eyes. He leaned in, before closing his eyes and stopping himself.

“Come with me, I want to show you something,” Y/N nodded as he led her away from the dancefloor to the confines of a secluded room filled with high bookshelves. There were rows and rows of books. Y/N twirled around, taking it all in. She’d never seen bookshelves this high before.

They were in a library. 

Sebastian noticed how Y/N smiled in awe as she took it all in. He just had a feeling she would like it.

“You didn’t tell me you were a prince, Prince Sebastian,” Y/N said when she turned around from admiring the thousands of books gracing the shelves. Bash chuckled.

“I told you I worked at the castle. Which is true,” Y/N narrowed her eyes before smiling. 

“I just didn’t specify,” Bash said, a finality in his tone. Y/N then saw him truly as he was, as a future king. 

A kind future king, she acknowledged. 

“True,” she took another longing look at the bookshelves before something else caught her eye on the other side of the room.

There was a black grand piano, waiting to be played. Almost calling her name as she took steps towards it. Bash saw what her eyes had fixed on, a grin growing on his face.

“Do you play?” He asked as Y/N let her fingers slide tenderly across the black-and-white keys. 

“I used to,” Y/N said honestly, still gazing longingly at the beautiful instrument in front of her. “I haven’t in a while, not since my father passed.” Bash looked at her sorrowfully, before whispering his condolences.

Sebastian took a seat in front of the piano, patting the place next to him. Y/N blushed before she obliged. 

She watched Sebastian place his hands on the piano, pressing a few keys, which made the sweetest tune. She closed her eyes and hummed to herself when she heard him continue. Suddenly the sound stopped and she opened her eyes to come face to face with Bash.

“Your turn,” he whispered, his face was so close to hers, that she could feel his breath on her face. She blushed but shook her head.

“I shouldn’t.”

“You should.”

“I shouldn’t.”

“You should.”

“I shouldn’t, really.”

“You should, really.”

“I will.” She said finally, seeing Sebastian grin before she placed her trembling hands on the keys.

She took a breath before letting her hands take over, the notes she played were familiar to her, never forgotten. Even if she hadn’t played them in so long. She let herself be carried by the tune, until at some point, there was a dialogue.

Sebastian had accompanied her on the piano, he was playing on his side, giving supporting yet beautiful notes to the ones she played. Y/N was enthralled and totally mesmerised by the music. 

So was he. Before today, Sebastian was sure Y/N could not surprise him anymore. She was already perfect enough. But here she was, letting out a precious and delicate part of herself that not many could see. She trusted him. And he appreciated it more than Y/N could ever imagine.

Later on in their life, Bash would tell Y/N that this was the moment he fell in love with her.

As with all good things in life, the song came to an end, and Y/N removed her hands from the keyboard to her lap. Fidgeting with her fingers, as if suddenly ashamed of letting someone see her so bare.

Sebastian placed two fingers underneath her jaw, making Y/N look at him. Her eyes were so vulnerable, that he wanted to fix everything in her life. Not knowing anything about her, but vowing to himself that he’d do anything and everything in his power to make sure she was happy at all times.

Their faces were close again, just one small nudge, and he could feel her lips on his. Y/N saw as Bash’s gaze moved from her eyes to her lips, hers following the action. They were so–so close. Sebastian nudged Y/N’s nose with his own as if asking for permission. Y/N closed her eyes and grinned, him doing the same, and just as their lips were about to meet, Y/N heard the clock strike. 

Her eyes flew wide open and she pulled away. Looking at the clock behind them, she realised she was running out of time.

“I’m so sorry, but I have to go,” Y/N said apologetically, coming to stand. Bash followed immediately, wanting to grasp her arm, but not wanting to overstep.

“You’ve been absolutely wonderful and I’ve had the time of my life, truly.” She started walking away, fast. Sebastian was bewildered, not understanding what went wrong.

“Why are you in a hurry?” He asked, giving her a smile to try to ease the sudden tension in the room.

“It’s hard to explain, I don’t even understand it myself. But I made a promise,” she said, looking over her shoulder at him. Bash was trailing behind her; they still weren’t out of the confines of the library. “I don’t break my promises.”

“Then promise me, we will meet again,” Sebastian told her, as he saw her quicken the pace. She was at the door now. The door that connected to the ballroom. The door that would bring them back to reality. She gave him one last look over her shoulder, grinning at him the way she’d never before when she finally whispered so only he could hear.

“Goodbye, Prince Sebastian.”

She took off and Sebastian followed. He felt his pulse quicken in his chest, for he had been so close to telling her that he’d chosen her as his bride. 

And she’d used his full name. Not the nickname he’d given her.

Bash felt dread creep up on him. This wasn’t supposed to end like this.

And that’s when he realised he didn’t know her name. All this time together, and he had forgotten to ask the simplest of questions. 

She had passed the ballroom now and Sebastian tried his hardest to catch up. With his luck, though, what with being the prince and all, he wasn’t so quick. Girls touched him and pulled him into them, everyone trying to score a chance at a dance with the Prince Sebastian. 

Sebastian muttered countless apologies, before finally getting free of the wandering hands and quickening his pace towards her.

Y/N tried to run as fast as she could. Suddenly she stumbled and one of her glass shoes had fallen off. She looked behind herself and saw Bash following her, even if he was a bit farther behind. She did not have time to go back for the shoe, trying to get the other one off her foot, while still running.

She finally made her way to her carriage, letting it drive away. In her last glance towards the castle, she saw Bash picking up her glass shoe, holding it to his chest, and looking longingly towards the carriage. She blinked and felt moisture on her cheeks. She was devastated by leaving him, but he was a prince. He was the Prince Sebastian and she was just a commoner. A maid, if she could be called even that as of late. However, the feeling was bittersweet, as she’d have memories of this night to remind herself for the years to come.

The way his hands had felt, the way he had looked at her, the way his breath had made goosebumps on her skin when his nose brushed against hers.

The carriage dropped her off at her house, and she hastily made her way into her small room. As she changed into her other dress, the grey one that was her mother's, she noticed that her periwinkle dress was gone. She had just hung it up in her closet, but it was nowhere. She looked again and again, pulling out every other dress in her closet, but nothing.

It was as if it was never even there.

All that remained, which reminded her of the evening spent with the Prince, were her memories and the small glass shoe on the ground in her closet. Reminders, that she hadn’t imagined her time in the castle and that it had been real.

It was quiet until she heard voices coming from the hallway. Annoyed voices.

“I cannot believe, we didn’t get to dance with the Prince,” Isadora said grumpily, sitting down at the dining room table with a disappointed look. “All because of that stupid girl in that pretty dress.”

“At least I touched him,” Arabella closed her eyes, trying to remember the feel of his shoulder beneath her fingers. “He was so firm,” Arabella continued to daydream and took a seat next to her sister. Madam Deveraux was the last to arrive in the room, taking note of Y/N and how bubbly she suddenly looked.

She had a certain spring in her step, when she finally brought the food on the table, for them to eat. Madam Deveraux raised her eyebrow, eyeing Y/N thoroughly, but not saying a word. She thought Y/N would be more devastated at not having had the opportunity to attend the ball.

Something was going on. And she did not like it one bit.

Y/N spent the rest of her evening writing everything down in her diary. She wrote of every minute spent in the castle and her time with the Prince. Mostly, she wrote of the Prince.

It was a month after the ball when Y/N went to her room to check her closet. She had a peculiar feeling in her chest as if something were amiss. Her diary had been exactly where she’d left it, but to her surprise the glass shoe was missing. Y/N looked around her closet, but it was nowhere in sight.

“Are you looking for this?” She heard the cold voice of Madam Deveraux from the doorstep, before looking at her quizzically. “It’s a wonderful little thing, isn’t it.” Madam Deveraux said, looking at the shoe in her hand and then at Y/N. “Do you even know that there’s a countrywide search for whoever wore these shoes to the ball?”

Y/N was surprised, for she did not know the Prince was looking for her. Mostly because she hadn’t even been out of the house these previous weeks. Madam Deveraux had been giving her more chores than she could manage and now she figured out why.

“I won’t even begin to ask where you acquired such a thing, for I simply do not care.” Madam Deveraux hit the glass shoe on the wall next to her, making Y/N gasp and let out a weak ‘no’.

Madam Deveraux smirked, taking pleasure in Y/N’s sorrowful state. “It’s only a matter of time before they knock on our door. And you will not be a part of this household when they ask. It’s only me, Arabella and Isadora.” She grinned darkly, looking at Y/N sitting on the floor, tears in her eyes. 

“Do you understand? Do you now, finally, understand that sometimes a person of your stature is just not enough?” Y/N whimpered as Madam Deveraux closed the door of her room, locking it behind her.

Y/N looked around herself, she had approximately enough food in her room to last her a few days, but she had finally accepted her fate. She would never see Bash again.

It was the afternoon of the next day when Madam Deveraux heard knocking on her door. She placed on her most pleasant smile and opened the door wide, to be met with the new King’s chancellor. 

“Hello, we are here on behalf of His Majesty the King, to try to find his beloved. Are there any ladies in your household, to whom this shoe might belong?” The man in a dark blue suit asked, showing Madam Deveraux the glass shoe she was all familiar with.

Madam Deveraux was thrilled. She had ordered her daughters to lotion their feet daily and to try to squish them into smaller shoes, for she had to be sure that one of them would find their place near the King. 

Arabella was first, as was expected of the eldest daughter. She let out a bunch of profanities while trying on the shoe, pushing and pulling the glass to try to fit into it. “One more time,” she said, her face completely red from the puffing and huffing.

“Oh, give up already,” Isaroda said, whilst nudging her sister, making her fall and catching the shoe in her hand.

As expected, it didn’t fit her either.

Madam Deveraux was absolutely annoyed with her daughters, completely disappointed in their incompetence.

“I am sorry for wasting your time, Madam Deveraux,” the chancellor said, as he was stepping out of the house. Just as he was about to get back on his horse, there was humming to be heard.

The loveliest voice was humming a tune somewhere in the house. Madam Deveraux’s eyes shot up, trying to close the door behind her.

The chancellor raised an eyebrow. “Is there someone else in the house with you?” 

Madam Deveraux smiled smugly, however slightly shaken with the idea of the kingsmen hearing Y/N’s humming. She shook her head.

“No, there is no one, but me and my two daughters.”

“You’re lying,” said a strong voice, as a man jumped off his horse. He removed his hood, and everyone gasped.

It was Prince Sebastian. No, he was King Sebastian now. His father had fallen ill and given Sebastian the throne early.

Madam Deveraux was flabbergasted and immediately curtsied. “M-my prin-King, My King, I had no idea, you’d be here.” 

Sebastian took a few steps forward, still hearing the tune of Y/N’s humming. He knew it was her. It was the same song they’d played on the piano together. 

Sebastian looked at his chancellor, nodding towards the house. “Want to check it out, or should I?”

His chancellor, his best friend, smirked when he saw the glint in Sebastian’s eye. “Go ahead, Your Majesty.” Sebastian grinned before fastening his pace and entering the house. He followed the humming to the small door near the kitchen.

Sebastian saw that the door was locked, so with one, really-really strong pull he tore the lock off the door and exhaled before opening the door.

Y/N had no idea what was going on. She had been trying to calm herself ever since Madam Deveraux had locked her in this room. So when she heard noises coming behind the door, she had expected the worst. 

What she didn’t expect, however, were the kind eyes of Bash.

Sebastian faltered, his steps coming to a stop. There she stood. His beloved. His Queen. He furrowed his brows as he took in her commodities. The way she was dressed. The way her eyes were red-rimmed - an indication that she had been crying. 

She had been locked up.

Everything suddenly made sense to him and he wasted no time in hurrying towards Y/N and pulling her to him. Hugging her so close to him, finally, finally, feeling her in his arms.

“Bash,” She let out weakly and Sebastian just shushed her, placing his head on hers. “It’s okay, you’re safe now.”

Y/N tried to push herself away from him, afraid to get even more hurt. She had felt enough disappointment and grief in her life to experience it again. And grief she would feel if she lost Bash too. So it was easier to push him away before her feelings got too strong. Although, deep down, she knew there was already no turning back. She had fallen for him. Deeply.

But Sebastian wouldn’t budge, he was only grinning more widely when he realised that Y/N, the one he was looking for, was safely in his arms.

“Do you know that I have a countrywide search put out for you?” He asked casually, not even minding that she was trying to break free of his hold. Letting his fingers run through her hair, silently comforting her.

“Bash, have you even realised who I am?” Y/N looked at him through tear-filled eyes. “I'm a nobody. A maid at best. I have no prospects, no dowry. I am not someone you want next to you to rule a kingdom.”

Sebastian laughed at that, pulling the smaller one closer to his chest, letting his head fall on her own again. “That’s where you’re wrong, darling,” He inhaled her scent before placing a kiss on her head.

“You’re strong, you’re honest. Your heart is made of gold. You’re the only person I want to share the throne with.”

She finally looked up into his eyes, to see the most sincere gaze ever directed towards her.

“Well, aren’t you supposed to give me a shoe to try on then? Or have I heard wrong?” She finally retaliated and he chuckled at that.

“Fair enough,” he said before slowly kneeling in front of Y/N.

She looked at him, Prince Sebastian, no, King Sebastian now, on one knee, holding up a glass shoe.

Her glass shoe.

“May I?” Bash cheekily said, before Y/N blushed, and pulled up her skirt just a bit to give Sebastian her leg.

Bash placed her foot in the shoe, and as a surprise to neither of them, it fit her perfectly. His eyes found hers instantly, a strong, confident look in his gaze.

“Can I now, finally, know your name?”

She laughed at that, a tear escaping her eye as she finally began to realise that her old life was coming to an end.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” she said as Sebastian’s eyes glossed over as well.

“Y/N,” Bash tried the name out on his tongue, and he liked how it sounded. He closed his eyes and shook his head, before looking at Y/N again with a new determination in his face.

“Y/N, would you please do me the honour of marrying me and making me the happiest man to ever walk this Earth? I promise to give everything in me to make you happy. To keep you safe. Please, just please, end my misery and come back to the castle with me. As my equal. As my Queen.”

Y/N fell on her knees in front of Bash, her tears falling on her cheeks, although she did not care for them at that moment. All she saw was Sebastian’s face near her as she started to nod and laugh.

“Yes?” Bash looked at Y/N with a hopeful gaze, placing his hands on either side of her face, and pulling her towards him.

Y/N closed her eyes, feeling Bash’s forehead on her own.

“Yes.” 

Time stopped then.

Sebastian pulled Y/N closer to himself and finally connected their lips. Magical was not even the word to begin to describe how it felt like. They were made for each other, of that, were they both certain. Y/N had never experienced anything like this before. His lips were so smooth and soft on her own that she let out a whimper. Bash smiled at that and Y/N followed. 

They both pulled away, grinning at each other.

“I love you,” Bash said, caressing Y/N’s face with his right hand.

“I love you,” Y/N said before Bash connected their lips again.

It was no surprise that the wedding of Y/N and Sebastian happened only a week after their first kiss. Y/N had moved into the castle immediately after Sebastian had caught her locked up in the storage room. Madam Deveraux was put to trial, for treating Y/N the way she had. Arabella and Isadora, although crude in their temper, were pardoned, but made to leave the country, effective immediately. 

As for Y/N and Sebastian?

Well, their story is just at the beginning, filled with sweet kisses and even sweeter memories.

“Do you have any idea how happy you’ve made me?” Bash asked as he held Y/N, his wife now, close to himself.

“Hmm, I can begin to imagine it’s something close to the way I feel,” Y/N chuckled and Sebastian laughed, finally taking a look at her.

Ethereal, he thought. She stood in front of him in their shared bedroom, still in her white gorgeous wedding gown.

Sebastian just shook his head, still in disbelief that his happily ever after was in his arms at last. He pulled Y/N closer and placed his lips on hers. The one of many kisses shared that night.

[mineox]

Arranged Marriage

໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১Scaramouche x M Reader !Modern au!

After the wedding night Scaramouche wanted nothing to do with you but sadly you hit your heat cycle but Scaramouche takes care of you like a good husband.

Warnings: cock-drunk reader, two faced scaramouche :c, mean scaramouche, overstimulation, dacryphilia, creampie, mention of pregnancy, reader in a dress, oral, fingering, heat cycle, degrading, tongue pierced Scara ;3

Scaramouche sat in his bedroom he looked zoned out thinking about his new life now that he was forced to marry a boy…the problem wasn’t he was married to the same gender no…the problem was that he never wanted to marry that boy who was sleeping peacefully next door was a pain in the ass. The first time they met the boy was very sweet and Scaramouche hated sweet the boy probably knew he was going to be engaged with Scaramouche soon which made Scaramouche’s blood boil he couldn’t stand him he was always doing sweet stuff for him like cook, clean, help him wash his back…already acting like his male wife, just thinking about impregnating him made him sick. The reason why Scaramouche and Y/n were forced to marry each other was because Ei the mother of Scaramouche told him she needed a nephew of niece, someone who can inherit their last name and since he was the eldest he needed to marry fast and get his mother a grandchild. Scaramouche sighed and stood up, slowly walking up to a mirror and smashing it shattering the mirror into pieces meanwhile his partner was in the other side of the room trying to cry himself to sleep. — “you don’t seem very happy…” said Kokomi a friend of Y/n’s “o-oh no…I’m very happy it’s just I-I feel nauseous and my stomach has been hurting all day…” said Y/n with a weak smile Kokomi laughed and fixed his veil “maybe you and Scaramouche are expecting a little one on the way” said Kokomi making Y/n smile but on the inside he was scared “yea maybe…”

everyone was at the wedding reception celebrating their friends wedding Scaramouche had a smile on his face acting as if he was happy and wanted this wedding to happen meanwhile Y/n had a small frown he was scared and not happy at all he knew Scaramouche didn’t like him at all but the sad truth is Y/n loved him the first time he saw him, his beautiful smile even if he knew it was fake Y/n yelped quietly feeling a small pinch in his thigh he looked at his husband who was looking at him with a hateful look “smile.” was all he said and Y/n obeyed like always. — Y/n was in his room sobbing into his pillow hoping the banging would stop Scaramouche was hurting himself Y/n wanted to patch him up but he knew not to mess with him or interrupt him whenever he’s mad, Y/n just wanted to marry someone and live happily but that wasn’t going to happen not when his husband hates him. Y/n coughed feeling nauseous again ‘must’ve been something bad I ate…’ thought Y/n he looked at him white gown and frowned ‘Ei is treating me with all these dresses I’m not even a girl…’ thought Y/n he paused and grabbed onto the bed feeling drowsy he did his best walking up to the door, his vision blurry “n-need water…” mumbled Y/n feeling more drowsy his stomach felt very hot and his face red

Scaramouche left his room and walked into the large kitchen the atmosphere felt weird…Scaramouche sniffed the air to smell pheromones he looked around before seeing a familiar (h/c) head “Y/n?” Scaramouche walked up to the large sofa to see Y/n who was barely conscious “what the…” Scaramouche touched Y/n’s forehead which was very warm and the pheromones he was letting out “are you doing this on purpose?…” asked Scaramouche standing up there was no response and he sighed and picked up the boy “Scara?…” mumbled Y/n opening his eyes “what.” answered Scaramouche he looked at Y/n who was tearing up “wha— stop crying—“ “I-I’m sorry I’m not a good wife!” cried Y/n “what?—“ “you hate me and I-I’m trying so hard to be p-perfect b-but m-maybe we should divorce!!” cried Y/n ‘it hasn’t even been a day.’ thought Scaramouche now that he thought of it he felt kinda bad how he was treating his wife “I-I…” Scaramouche quickly sat down on the sofa it was hard for him to speak when the strong pheromones were still around the air “I…” Scaramouche looked at Y/n his mind clouded with lust he tried to get a grip but seeing his wife all weak and teary got him turned on, Y/n yelped feeling Scaramouche throw him onto the sofa “S-Scara—“ Y/n was cut off by a kiss “mphm!!” Y/n tried to separate the kiss but eventually gave up due to Scaramouche being much stronger then him “Y/n you’re so pretty…can’t wait to make you cry louder.” mumbled Scaramouche his lips touching Y/n’s neck “Scara!” whimpered Y/n he felt Scara bite him, suck his neck until a dark purple mark was made soon after Y/n felt Scara stand up and Y/n looked at him “get on your knees.”

Muffles and groans can be heard Scaramouche was thrusting into Y/n’s warm mouth and grabbing his hair “good boy…sucking me like a good slut…” groaned Scaramouche feeling good, Y/n who was below him was teary his cheeks were very red and his mind was foggy and filled with lust, all he wanted to do was to please his husband like a good wife soon Y/n felt Scaramouche pull his head closer and the salty taste filled Y/n’s mouth “good slut…get on the bed.” ordered Scaramouche and like always Y/n obeyed.

Y/n whimpered feeling Scaramouches long fingers thrust inside his hole that was aching for something bigger “look at you all wet…you want my dick so bad don’t you?” smirked Scaramouche “y-yes!” moaned Y/n he moaned feeling like he’s about to burst but suddenly Scaramouche stopped “w-why!” whined Y/n he tried moving himself on Scaramouches fingers but his waist was being held “not yet I want you to ride me.” said Scaramouche grabbing Y/n’s waist and putting him up Y/n grabbed onto Scaramouches shoulders and slowly took him in “ugh your pathetic.” Y/n threw his head back feeling the huge cock enter him “h-hurts!…” whimpered Y/n tearing up again “just take it in like a good little slut you are.” smiled Scaramouche kissing Y/n “s-sorry…” moaned Y/n “for what.” said Scaramouche stopping “I-Im not a good wife…” mumbled Y/n “Y/n you are so cute…I can’t wait to see you all plump up…carrying our baby.” smirked Scaramouche seeing Y/n’s surprised face Scaramouche groaned moving inside his wife’s tight hole and Y/n threw his head back again feeling the hard cock hit his sensitive spot

“mmm…s-slow down!” begged Y/n Scaramouche fucked him doggy style to get a good angle at hitting his sensitive spots again and again “not until that heat of yours…is gone…” said Scaramouche out of breath but still thrusting as if there is no tomorrow Y/n’s hole was full of cum “you look so pretty in that night gown…” said Scaramouche pulling his wifes hair making Y/n whimper in pain and pleasure “mmm!” whimpered Y/n feeling himself getting close “you are so tight…how many times have you cum you slut?” teased Scaramouche he smirked seeing his wifes cock drunken face “mmm…n-no more!” begged Y/n “begging me to stop yet you still release these stupid pheromones…do you want some other guy to fuck you?” asked Scaramouche pulling on Y/n’s hair and when there was no response he stopped thrusting and Y/n whined “answer my question.” said Scaramouche “n-no only you!” cried Y/n he moaned feeling Scaramouche slowly thrusting again “good.” said Scaramouche.

Scaramouche and Y/n were in a much larger room Y/n was faced the other way avoiding eye contact with his husband and Scaramouche was starting to regret treating Y/n awful “so that priest told me about you feeling sick and relating to—“ “pregnancy symptoms…” mumbled Y/n Scaramouche looked at him puzzled “are you?…” questioned Scaramouche “y-yes” mumbled Y/n “h-how…?” asked Scaramouche scared to hear the respond what if Y/n was tired of his bullshit and decided to secretly sleep with someone else “l-last time you got drunk and you were releasing a lot of pheromones…” explained Y/n “w-was it non consensual?!” panicked Scaramouche “n-no I did what a good wife would do…” said Y/n a bit red “oh sorry…” apologized Scaramouche he then grabbed Y/n’s hand and kisses it “I-Im so sorry for all the shit I’ve done—“ “I-It’s fine don’t worry about it…” mumbled Y/n “I-I’ll buy you anything I-I will take care of you and our kid p-please just don’t leave me…” said Scaramouche mumbling the last part “Scara I knew what I was signing myself for your mom warned me…” said Y/n with a smile and Scaramouche kissed Y/n and grabbed his thigh “p-please I wanna go again…” begged Scaramouche and Y/n blushed.

Scaras gonna have tons of kids if he keeps this up :3

[gabessquishytum]

Hob is the wedding singer hired to perform at Dream's wedding reception(s) (.........each time he's left at the altar.). A 5+1 romcom.

Hob was hired as a joke by Dream's friends for his wedding reception -- Dream's super intense about his romances and all in for getting married (and his parents/family are soooo buttoned up) that a wedding singer like Hob should (hopefully) losen things up.

1. Dream's wedding is called off a week or two before; Hob charges his 75% cancelation fee;

2. Dream is left at the altar this time; Hob sees him in passing. He charges his full rate since he was ready to go and all set up;

3. A pregnant Calliope calls off the wedding the day of, and since the reception venue is attached to where she and Dream were going to be married, she talks Dream into eating cake and dancing with her -- they'll co-parent, but one of them had to be honest about how ill-suited they were for each other. Hob tries to make sure everyone has fun --- and sees Dream for the first time and is smitten by the sad sack pretty man dancing oh so poorly with the hugely pregnant lady;

4. Left at the alter again (and knowing Hob was at the reception venue), Dream's friends (Matthew, Jessamy, Lucienne, Joanna, Cori) drag him to drink and dance to Hob's singing. Hob finally gets to talk to his favorite broken hearted cutey;

5. At this point, Hob and Dream are friends (it took a while for Dream to get with the program) and while Hob really really likes Dream (he loves him so much), Hob could only watch the train wreck of Dream asking another person who doesn't really understand (or love him like Hob) to marry him.

Hob was not hoping for a repeat of the runaway bride/groom (above all he wants Dream to be happy) .....but on the off chance Hob was bad luck for Dream's weddings,,,,,,Hob agreed to sing at the reception; and

+1. Hob refused to sing for his own wedding!! He needs all the good luck he can muster to secure Dream as his husband.

I live for the idea of Hob being like "Hmm. I like this weird little man. Let me study him like a bug. And also marry him."

And listen, Hob prides himself on the fact that all the couples he's sung for have been very successful! Not a single divorce among them! Dream is managing to spoil that record all by himself, and Hob is determined to see this poor wet cat happily settled down.

He pulls out ALL the stops with romantic playlists and backdrops, sexy lighting, the whole shebang. He's never tried so hard to make his set a success, but he's determined to make the ambience perfect for Dream.

And it still doesn't work. Calliope seems like a lovely lady, though. She even thanks Hob for putting in so much effort. And says she hopes to see him at Dream’s next wedding. Oof.

Admittedly at weddings number 4 and 5, Hob is less determined to make the whole thing a success. He's not actively sabotaging them (Dream definitely doesn't need his help in failing to get married)... but he's not exactly sad when he gets to put his arm around the poor abandoned groom and comfort him in his hour of need. At number 5 Dream falls asleep with his head in Hob’s lap while he sings a soft lullaby, and Hob decides right then and there that there will be no more failed weddings. HE is marrying Dream, and he's not going to let anything stop him.

And so he doesn't perform at their wedding (because he's secretly afraid that it might bring bad luck). And they do make it to the altar, and through the vows, and to the reception - without a single hitch. Dream doesn't seem to stop smiling all day, and it's like he can hardly believe it when they cut the cake and have the first dance. Hob catches him pinching himself several times, which is just adorable.

And much, much later, when they finally tumble into bed to enjoy a sleepy, cozy wedding night... Hob sings Dream to sleep with "I do" by ABBA, and they start the rest of their lives together. Hob is determined to regain his record of 100% successful marriages, and he's not letting Dream go!!

[liketwoswansinbalance]

On the Subject of "All-Kinds-of-Fur:"

Link to the original Brothers Grimm fairy tale for reference. It's basically a variant of "Cinderella."

Also, if I have the inspiration for it, this could become part of a series, set during the peaceful days before the prequel events. Thus, if anyone would like to send in a request for the School Master brothers' reactions to a classic fairy tale or an SGE one, however obscure it may be, I might write it!

⸻

[Rhian enters the tower chamber looking distressed while Rafal is grading fourth-year students' theses on treachery, taboos, and the natural lines of family, that, when wrongly crossed, drive people insane and disrupt the fragile human psyche.

For an example of this so-called phenomenon (stolen from the plot of Hamlet), imagine a scenario as follows: a wife marries her husband's brother after her husband dies. While they may not be blood relations, this scenario is still off and rather strange, even if modern times could make more allowances for such a thing to occur and be socially-acceptable.]

Rhian: My fourth-year Class Captain had to run away whilst on her questing assignment!

Rafal: [absently, without looking up from the papers, slashing through lines in bloodred ink] Mm, shame. [He sips his tea.]

Rhian: [tries to smile but it looks uneasy and he begins to pace with anxiety.] No! It's... good... I suppose. [He cringes.] If she hadn't run into the Woods last night, she would've had to marry her father!

Rafal: [spits out his tea.] Who's her father? Not one of my graduates, surely. Even my curriculum standards rise above that, that rot.

Rhian: No, it's not one of yours. Simply some brazen king. I just... I wish I could do something. She was one of my best students. [He sighs dejectedly.] But I doubt the Pen will tolerate an intervention. We just have to let her tale play out.

Rafal: Well, is it worth working yourself up over? She got away. Maybe it's you who's too invested in your students’ lives. They can fend for themselves, you know... well, probably. Actually, some Evergirls can be dimwitted. [He pauses.] How about this?: you always have the option of throwing her a lovely funeral.

Rhian: Oh, forget it. I don’t expect you to understand. [He throws up his arms, flustered, and exits the room.]

[Rafal observes that his brother still looks rather sad. In fact, Rhian grows more worried with each passing day as the Storian writes of the poor girl's travails as a forlorn scullery maid in hiding.]

⸻

[Several months later, three days and three nights after each night of the ball and banquet in the Evergirl's fairy tale:]

Rhian: [elatedly, swelling with hope] Rafal! Rafal! Have you heard? My Class Captain might live to see her Happily Ever After! The young king is going to save her! She’s danced with him three nights in a row and he would take no other partner. Though, each night, she slips away and conceals herself in that hideous, asymmetrical coat. You've seen the Pen's illustrations, haven't you? And last night, she wore a dress that glistened like the stars! I just knew the Beautification Practice While Impoverished classroom simulations would pay off! I knew it! It's the sheer magic of what a little soap and water can achieve!

Rafal: [not listening to Rhian's enthusiastic raving] Uh-huh.

Rhian: [finally looks at Rafal more closely after his lackluster response.] Say, Rafal? Where did that patchwork blanket come from? Is it new? I feel like I’ve seen it before. Somewhere... [he muses.]

Rafal: [shrugs without looking up from his book.] Nowhere. You’re not still… sad about that tale, are you? It’s old news. And the Storian's been still about that tale for a good few hours. Maybe it'll be scrapped, storybook and all.

Rhian: [grits his teeth in frustration] Yes. I know. You weren't listening.

Rafal: [expressionlessly] Wasn't I? Regardless, Happily Ever Afters don't concern me.

Rhian: [tongue-tied, attempting to come up with a fitting retort] An-and, you need a good douse of soap and water too. You've got... soot and—is that walnut oil all over your hands?

Rafal: [rolls his eyes.]

⸻

[The next day:]

[Rhian devours the completed tale in one sitting and notices a discrepancy he assumes is a continuity error by the Storian: the vagabond princess disguised in the role of a scullery maid returned to her little cubbyhole below stairs to find that her coat, which she’d left in the shadows, had disappeared, seemingly stolen.

Perhaps, a creature of the night had made off with it, desperate to reclaim its skin.

Or perhaps, there had been an intervention.

Thus, the princess was forced to show her true, shining self to the king’s men hunting her down. In her gown, that gleamed like the stars, much like a bride's.

And Rhian has a feeling he knows why this Ending came to be.]

⸻

[A week later:]

Rhian: [enters, humming about wedding bells to himself.]

Rafal: You look well. Did something go right?

Rhian: Yes! Something nice came in the post today, brother. My former student and the young, foreign king have invited us to their wedding. And look! Even you got an invitation, too. [He laughs to himself and makes a face of mock fright, lowering his voice and gnarling his hands into claws.] Whooo, they probably didn't want the Evil brother to curse them during a christening someday, so you'll probably get a golden plate and sweetmeats to spare at the wedding feast in order to "appease" you.

Rafal: [glares at him.]

Rhian: [drops the act.] Ahem. Anyway, we’ve got to pack for spring in Altazarra. Bring some non-black, festive clothes, if you have any. Oh, and bring a less ugly coat than that scruffy old blanket, will you?

Rafal: I’m not attending. I don’t like inane balls or sentimental Ever Afters, but have fun.

Rhian: Are you sure about that?

Rafal: Positively.

Rhian: [holds up an illustration of the princess' cubbyhole from the tale he’s been scrutinizing for the last few days.] Then what’s this shadow the Storian’s inked in darker than the rest? It looks quite a lot like a human form.

Rafal: Trick of the light. Just be glad Evil didn’t prevail this time, and call it a day. My side will win next time to be sure.

Rhian: [smirks knowingly] I guess I owe my peace of mind and sanity to a thief then.

Rafal: [deadpans] Run along, Ever. Pip-pip. You've got a wedding to attend, have you not?

[kingofpopmj]

you could do a story with Michael Jackson where he is married to Y/N just to please the media and he doesn't really love her that much. However, he respects her even though he gives her a few arrows with nasty words, making her disappointed. Also, if possible, at some point in the bedroom while Y/N is sleeping, Michael appears slightly nervous and when he sees her, he starts kissing her because he misses her touches.... and... maybe a passionate ending smut????please…. thank u😩😙💓

~This is my first smut imagine, so don’t be too hard on me.🙈 I hope you enjoy it! Michael is spicy in this one so read at your own risk. Thank you to the hunni that requested this!

I'll Change The Rules For You

*Michael’s POV*

The heaviness in my heart grew unbearable as I unlocked the front door. The shine of my wedding ring ever so bright as I slowly pushed the door open. I quietly entered the house. It was spotless. The house filled with the smell of a homemade meal. My favorite meal. The distant sound of Y/N humming made me feel everything and nothing all at once. She was- she’s fine. I’m fine. We’re fine.

I stood in the doorway unable to shut the door behind me just yet. I wanted to be home. It’s just home doesn’t feel much like home lately. I let out a deep sigh before closing the door. There’s no running. I can’t run away. Making my way to the kitchen with small steps I’m greeted with Y/N’s backside. She was bent over putting something in the oven. A normal husband would happily announce his arrival or greet his wife with a kiss, but me- I have no idea what to do.

“Oh my goodness!” Y/N jumped when she finally turned around. “You scared me.”

“I do live here.” I scoffed.

“Of course you live here. I just wasn’t sure what time you’d be home.” She smiled hopefully. “I’m happy to see you.” She moved towards me wrapping her arms around me. When I didn’t reciprocate the gesture her arms fell to her sides. The look of defeat plastered across her face.

“I’m gonna go take care of some things.”

“Wait.” She gently held my arm stopping my abrupt exit. “I made dinner. I thought we could eat together. Maybe have a movie night?” Again, she smiled. It was full of love and optimism. I couldn’t stand the feeling in my chest, but still I held my ground.

“I’ll pass.”

“I don’t understand why you’re being this way.” It came out as a whisper, but I heard it. I heard her sadness. I felt her despair.

“You don’t understand a lot.” I snapped.

“We used to be friends.” She looked up at me with watery eyes and in that moment I hated myself.

“We are what we are. That’s it.”

“What are we?”

“We are legally bound to one another.” I said with a shrug. I didn’t look at her. I couldn’t.

“You make it sound so-“

“I make it sound like what it is!” Y/N jumped back at my sudden outburst. She looked terrified- terrified of me.

“Why do you have to be so mean?” Her voice laced with pain. “You asked me to do this for you and I did because you promised me nothing would change.”

“I’m not being mean! It’s not my fault you’re a dimwit that can’t understand simple concepts! You keep acting like this perfect little housewife. It’s too much! You are too much! We did this to get the world off my back, yet somehow you’ve managed to screw that up! It’s exhausting being your husband- your fake husband!”

“I gave up my whole life because my friend asked me- no begged me to help him. I couldn’t be anything else but Michael Jackson’s wife. You knew that. I had to abandon my family, my friends, my job. Everything. I know this isn’t real, I know we aren’t real, but I still thought you were worth it. I tried to make this strange situation as comfortable as possible, but you are determined to hurt me. To break me.”

“Y/N-” I stopped when she put her hand up shaking her head slowly. She untied the apron from around her waist placing it on the counter.

“Dinner is on the table. I made the cake you like. It’s in the oven- just take it out when the timer goes off.” She spoke softly before leaving the kitchen forcing me to watch her walk away- walk away from me. It seemed inevitable.

She doesn’t deserve this.

I don’t deserve her.

I took my seat at the table unable to eat anything. After how I treated Y/N, I deserved the loss of appetite and more. I stared at the spread in front of me, which only made me feel worse. She did so much for me. She does so much for me. The kitchen timer went off reminding me of the cake in the oven. I walked over to take it out. She really did all of this for me. She’s the best person in my life. The only one I can truly trust and I’m going to lose her.

Two hours have gone by since Y/N left. I knew she fell apart after how I spoke to her. She felt safe in our bedroom, so I knew that were she was. I desperately wanted to see her- hold her- be with her. I knew the shame would become insufferable the moment I looked into her eyes. Even with that understanding, I couldn’t stay away from her. The effect she has on me is something I don’t think I’ll ever fully comprehend.

Another forty-five minutes went by before I mustered up the courage to leave the kitchen. I found myself struggling to proceed when I reached the bottom of the staircase. I need to make this right. I need to fix this. I need Y/N.

As I reached to top of the staircase I see the bedroom door is closed, but as I twisted the knob I was thankful it wasn’t locked. My eyes scanned the room unable to find Y/N. The bed was made without a crease in sight. The only source of light illuminating from the bathroom. I rushed over hoping to find her braiding her hair in front of the mirror or massaging her face with that lotion she loved so much. It smelled like peonies, her favorite flower. The more time that passed without any trace of Y/N the more empty I felt. I was starting to feel worried, but mostly confused.

The closet was the last place to check. Nothing could prepare me for how broken I’d feel once I pushed that door open. The hangers were empty on Y/N’s side of the closet. Her suitcases littered the floor half full of her belongings. She was curled up into a ball on the tiny couch I got her for our first anniversary. It’s from France. She fell in love with the soft velvet fabric and I knew I had to surprise her with it. I still remember the smile on her face. She was so touched. She was so happy. Ironic, how easily- how quickly I tarnished that happiness. When I realized she was asleep I moved closer. Her tear stained cheeks broke my heart further. The pain in my chest growing by the second.

“I’m so sorry.” I whispered kneeling down to leave a gentle kiss on her forehead. Unable to take my eyes off of her I gently took her hand in mine- her left hand. I admired the ring on her finger remembering the proposal, the smile on her face, the joy that filled my heart and the love between us. “I’m so sorry.” I whispered again leaving kisses on her hand.

“Y/N?” I said softly trying to wake her up without scaring her. Her eyes remained shut as she instinctively snuggled into my hand that rested against her cheek. I couldn’t help myself. I cupped her face in my hands as I left tender kisses all over face.

“Michael?” Y/N sat up looking at me bewildered.

“I’m so sorry.” She avoided looking into my eyes. “Please don’t leave me. I’m so sorry.”

“You act like you hate me.” She murmured staring down at our entangled hands.

“I don’t.” I began kissing her hand slowly traveling up her arm, shoulder and neck.

“Michael.” Y/N pulled away finally meeting my eyes. “You can’t bombard me with kisses and think that erases all the bad.”

“I know. I know. Y/N, I love you.”

“You can’t just say that and not mean it or act like it.”

“When I asked you to marry me as a favor I didn’t necessarily think it through.”

“What do you mean?”

“We loved each other as friends. I thought it would stay that way. It didn’t. Not for me. You promised me five years of marriage. On our third anniversary, I asked you for an extra five more and you obliged. You agreed to ten whole years as my wife.”

“I knew it would help you, so of course I said yes.”

“We’re just about to hit the five year mark and the thought of eventually having to let you go terrifies me. I asked for five more years because I don’t want to be without you.” I leaned in before she could respond and kissed her. I kissed her like I meant it. I kissed her like how I’ve been desperately wanting to for so long. Desperately, I pulled her to sit on top of me guiding her hips as I brought her down to my lap.

“What about the rules? No sex.”

“Those were impossible rules to follow. An idiot created those rules.” I say brushing her hair behind her shoulder and sinking my face into her neck. Her perfume filled my nostrils and I mentally kicked myself for denying myself of this pleasure sooner.

“Calling yourself an idiot there rule maker?” She questioned rolling her eyes and giggling. Oh, that sound. I love that sound.

“I think I deserve it, don’t you?” She shrugged in response. I pulled her closer, so close her body moulded to mine. “You’re my wife. I want to do this the right way. I want to do it all with you. I want this to be real.”

“Real?”

“I don’t want to push you away anymore. I want to bury myself in you.” I whispered in her ear as she took a deep breath. “Let me bury myself inside of you.” I purred against her sweet lips. My hands slowly traveled from her hips to her waist taking in every curve. I dragged my fingers just below her breasts to unbutton her shirt. I slid it down her arms leaving trails of goosebumps on her skin. I knew by the uneven rise and fall of her beautiful chest she wanted me just as badly.

“Please.” She said breathlessly tearing my shirt off and throwing it across the room.

Y/N’s head fell back as I kissed her neck, sucking down on the sensitive skin. Her fingers laced in between the strands of my hair as she kept me close. She rolled her hips against mine painfully slow as she met my gaze. The look in her eyes was more than enough to send me over the edge. She continued and I was could feel myself lose control. Y/N stopped without warning sensing my predicament. I held her hips with such force I’m certain she’d be covered with bruises. I want her. I need her to move- to move faster, but she refused to give me what I wanted. She was going to make me beg- and I would- I will. A seductive smirk covered her face. She enjoyed teasing me.

“I need you.” I panted trying to compose myself.

“I know.” She whispered in my ear unaware of just how much I worshipped her. She left wet kisses down my neck and chest as she pushed me until my back met the rug. I gawked at her unable to form any words. Unable to do anything but follow her every move.

She made me so weak.

I watched as she unzipped my pants sliding them down my legs.

She looked deep into my eyes as she removed my boxers.

I was so lost in her eyes that being completely naked in front of her didn’t register. The only thing on my mind was her.

The immense feeling of emptiness took over me as Y/N stood letting her panties fall to the ground.

I extended my arms folding them behind my head as I admired the view. She smiled bashfully before returning to her place- on top of me. Oh how I loved this view.

I reached out touching her anywhere-everywhere. I never thought anything would feel so good. Look so good. Taste so good.

Y/N let out a shaky breath, holding onto my shoulders lowering herself onto me.

I could feel everything.

I love the way she feels. I never want to go without her again. I’m hooked.

Her warmth tightened around me as she took me in deeper. Her eyes squeezed shut adjusting to me. The sound of my name falling from her lips only fueled my neediness.

My eyes rolling back at the sensation of her. I’ve missed out on this for too long. I glanced down at our connected bodies before quickly flipping us over. I settled in between her legs. I needed to be on top of her. I needed more. My hand traveled up her outer thighs and I took the opportunity to wrap her legs around me.

“You feel so- so good.” I lowered myself to meet her lips once again as I began to thrust into her. She interlocked her ankles behind my back pulling me in deeper each time.

“Faster!” Her voice was full of lust and it drove me wild. “Michael! Please!”

“Y/N!”

The room filled with the overwhelming sound of us satisfying one another. She brought something out in me I couldn’t explain. I licked and sucked on every part of her glorious body. Each moment better than the last.

She kissed me like I’ve never been kissed before. Her lips so soft. Her tongue so sweet. Kissing her came natural to me. Kissing her made me feel alive. Kissing her was like breathing. I needed it to live. I needed her to live.

“I’m going to-“ I felt myself release inside of her. The sting of Y/N’s fingernails dragging down the length of my back adding to my pleasure. We were both panting, but insistent on staying connected. Insistent on burying myself inside of her over and over again.

“Please!” Her lustful cries echoed off the walls as she clenched around me. Watching her come undone made me want to do this- do her all night- every night.

“Michael!” I collapsed on top of her resting my head on her voluminous chest.

“I love you.”

“I love you.” She began laughing uncontrollably. I looked up at her seeing a genuine smile gracing her face.

“What is it?”

“I can’t believe we just did that.” She sheepishly covered her face and I immediately pulled her hands into mine. Forcing her to look at me.

“I wish we had done it sooner.” I smiled kissing her deeply.

“The floor was fun.. Can we maybe try a couch or a mattress next time?”

“Next time?” I moved sliding my arms under her neck and legs lifting her up and walking out of the closet into our bedroom. I laid her on the bed gently spreading her legs with the tips of my fingers. “Who said I was done with you?” I chuckled leaning down kissing her inner thighs.

“Michael! Oh my-”

“Relax, I’ve got you baby.”

[forever-rogue]

Okay so what if nurse Steve, using his medical knowledge, is like my wife is acting a bit different and seems to be having some signs of being pregnant. So he just brings her home a pregnancy test or even like a “congrats” present already cause he’s excited for a baby and wants the confirmation that his wife is pregnant

AN | Omg yes! I was hoping someone would bring this up. Dad Steve is just🥺 This can be read as a companion piece to the below but also as a stand alone!

Warnings | Mild Language, Pregnancy

Pairing | Nurse!Steve x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2.6k

Masterlist | Nurse Steve, Steve, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When Steve got home it was at a reasonable hour for once. He fully expected that you’d be there to greet him, as you always were, but when he got home, he was met with silence and darkness. He saw your car in the driveway, and knew you should be home so he immediately grew nervous. You were his clumsy girl after all. 

“Babe?” He kicked off his shoes and walked into the darkened living room. He looked around and didn’t see anything out of place, but stumbled upon you, lying on the couch and snoring softly. He let out a sigh of relief as he looked at your sleeping form, draped a blanket over you, and pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, “oh my girl, you always keep me on my toes.”

He went into the bedroom to pull off his scrubs, figuring it was best to let you sleep and start dinner himself. You weren’t typically a napper, so if you were napping it meant that you must have been exhausted. He managed to shower, pull on a clean shirt and sweats before you padded into the bedroom, rubbing at your tired eyes.

“Hey my love,” you smiled softly, relieved that your husband was home, “‘m sorry I didn’t start dinner or anything. I wanted to have it all ready for you when you got home. I just got so tired and couldn’t stay awake.”

“It’s alright,” he wrapped you up into his arms and pressed a kiss to the side of your head, “it’s important for you to take care of yourself. Besides, we can make dinner together, huh?”

“Yes,” you nodded happily, “I’d love that, Stevie. You’re the best.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was a beautiful Saturday morning, and for the first time in a long time, you and Steve both had the day off. When you woke up it was to sunlight streaming in through the gauzy curtains and an empty bed. You frowned and reached for the spot he normally occupied and felt that it was cold. He’d been up and out of bed for some time. You slid out of the bed and slipped on Steve’s discarded shirt from the night before and padded down the hall. 

You could hear Steve singing to himself accompanied by the delicious smells of breakfast. Okay, maybe you would forgive him after all since he was cooking. 

“Hey sleepyhead,” he looked up as soon as he heard you, a breathtaking smile spreading across his face, “good morning.”

“Good morning,” you walked over and stood behind him, wrapping your arms around his middle as you rested your head against his back. You could feel his warm chuckle reverb in his chest and pressed a few kisses to his shoulder, “I love you.”

“I love you,” he took one of your hands and brought it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, “I’m making your favorites. Thought we might go to the farmer’s market today if you’re up to it.”

“That sounds wonderful,” you sighed contently, happy at the prospect of spending the day with your favorite person. You were about to say something else, but you were suddenly overwhelmed by a sudden wave of nausea. You untangled yourself from Steve and looked at what he was cooking; the smell coming from the bacon hit you like a ton of bricks and you almost jumped back. 

“Angel?” Steve gave you a concerned look as you covered your mouth in an attempt not to throw up, “what’s wrong?”

“The smell,” you shook your head and stepped out of the kitchen, “it’s making me nauseous.”

“The smell?” he raised an eyebrow as you nodded and pointed at the skillet, “of bacon?”

“Yes,” you groaned and walked towards the bathroom, “I dunno what it is, but it’s terrible! I’ve gotta step away for a few minutes.”

Steve’s mind was reeling as he tried to figure out what could possibly be going on. Nothing, no food anyway, had ever caused such a reaction from you. Strange, he thought to himself, very strange. But he made a mental note of it, along with your increased napping as of late.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You let out an exhausted sigh as you sat down next to the toilet, the tile cool under your warm skin. You wiped at the back of your mouth in a vain attempt to make the awful taste in your mouth go away. Brushing your teeth would have been the best option, but it seemed like way too much work to get up and do that. Instead, you leaned against the edge of the tub and flushed the toilet. 

“Hey,” Steve knocked and waited for a moment before opening the door and popping his head. A look of concern crossed his features when he saw the state you were in, “what’s wrong, angel?”

“‘s nothing,” you tried to wave him off but he was crouching down in front of you within moments. He put a finger under your chin and turned your face up to meet his. He was way too pretty for his own good, “really. I’m fine, Steve.”

“You don’t look fine,” he frowned as he looked you over. Leave it to your nurse husband to panic at any little thing. Although…given the frequency and magnitude of things happening to you, he really did have a point, “sweetheart, I love you and you know I think you’re the most beautiful woman in the world, but you don’t look good. You look pale and exhausted.”

“Thanks, babe,” you teased as you groaned at the taste in your mouth, “but really, I’m okay. I just gotta get up, brush my teeth, and I’ll be ready to go.”

“I don’t think you should go to work today,” he shook his head and gave you a pleading expression, “please? At least for my sake - that way you can rest and fight off whatever this is.”

“I think it’s something I’ve been eating,” you shrugged it off and avoided looking at him; you probably would have fallen apart otherwise, “it’s been happening on and off.”

“Babe-”

“It’s fine,” you put your hands on where they rested on your thighs and tried to calm him down, “I’ve been getting lunch at this new place and they probably use stuff my stomach doesn’t agree with, I dunno.”

“Still…” he trailed off and you could practically see the gears turning in his head, “just…if you won’t listen to my professional recommendation, maybe listen to my husband-who-is-madly-in-love-with-you recommendation and just take it easy today, yeah?”

“I promise,” you couldn’t help but smile at his concern, “I’ll take it easy today, drink plenty of water, eat bland food, and rest as I need, Nurse Harrington. Swear.”

“Good,” he couldn’t help but laugh as he hooked his pinky around yours, “I love you, clumsy girl.”

“I love you, Stevie.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Later that morning Steve practically skipped into work, every bone in his body tingling with excitement. He was generally a happy and positive guy, but even his coworkers noticed that something was off. 

“What’s up with you?” Brenda, one of the older nurses asked as the two of them made their rounds, “you seem even cheerier than normal today.”

“Well,” he looked around, almost as if he was expecting you to pop up somewhere, “I don’t want to say anything too early, but I think my wife’s pregnant.”

“Pregnant?” she echoed with a big smile on her face, “how exciting! Oh Steve, that’s wonderful news.”

“I’m not positive yet,” he couldn’t keep the smile off his face, “but the signs are there. At first I thought it was just one thing and then another but this morning she was throwing up and said it had been happening for the week. I don’t think she has a clue, honestly.”

“You know,  it’s a lot different when you’re the pregnant one,” she gently nudged his shoulder, “you don’t put all the pieces together and don’t see it from a different perspective. So to you, it becomes normal…I mean you remember that one patient we had a while back? She was almost five months pregnant and had no clue.”

“Yeah,” he remembered that afternoon; it had been chaotic and telling a young woman that she was halfway through a pregnancy when she had no clue was…interesting. She was shocked, but once she thought about it, the pieces fit together. Maybe that was what it would be like for you too, “I’m thinking about picking up a test on my way home today and surprising her with it.”

“That should be interesting,” she agreed with a small laugh, “what’s been going on with her?”

“Poor thing has been so exhausted lately that she’s been coming home and napping almost every day. She never napped much before,” he explained, “random things have been making her nauseous and now the morning sickness, or at least what I presume it is.”

“That definitely sounds like early pregnancy,” she confirmed and the smile on Steve’s grew, if that was even possible, “that’s how it was for me with both kids!”

“I just…I hope she doesn’t get offended or anything by me bringing it up,” he dropped his voice, casting a furtive look around, “I mean, we haven’t been trying or not trying so…I don’t know.”

“She’ll take it in stride,” Brenda promised and Steve appeared relieved, “she’s a smart girl…clumsy but smart.”

“Yeah,” your tendency for injuring yourself was notorious around the hospital. It did make for a good love story though, the two of you meeting in the ER when you broke your ankle, “definitely clumsy.”

“But it’s wonderful news, Steve,” she put her hand on his shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze, “you’re so good with kids, they always love you. You’re going to be a great father - great parents.”

“Thanks,” he felt a wash of emotion wash over him as the back of his eyes prickled with tears. He’d always wanted to be a father, always wanted little nuggets of his own, and the fact that it now might be a reality was overwhelming, “I’m excited. So excited.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Honey, I’m home!” Steve almost skipped into the house, wasting no time in finding you in the kitchen, cooking something that smelled delicious. You grinned as soon as you saw him and sighing wistfully as he pulled you in a big, warm hug, “hi angel.”

“Hi Steve,” you looked up at him with sunshine eyes before kissing him softly, “you’re in a good mood. Good day at work?”

“Something like that,” he peppered your face in gentle kisses, causing you to laugh in the way that made his knees weak, “I got a few things!”

“Oh?” you raised an eyebrow, trying to figure out if you missed a holiday or some sort of anniversary, “what’s the occasion?”

“Well,” he walked to the other side of the counter where he’d dropped his bag on one of the barstools slyly, “there’s none! But these are for you.”

“Oh,” you looked at the gorgeous flowers held out by your wonderful husband and immediately felt on the verge of tears. You took them from his hand and clutched them gently to your chest. You sniffled softly, “they’re beautiful. Thank you, Stevie.”

“Of course,” he gently touched your face, brushing his knuckles over your cheek as you preened into his touch, “there’s something else too…”

“It’s gonna be kinda hard to top these,” you teased, Steve knowing full well that it definitely would, “but hit me with it.”

He reached into the bag, hesitating for just a moment before pulling out the box and setting it on the counter. You looked at for a moment, but realization quickly crossed your features, “listen, babe, I just think…with everything that’s been going on with you that you might be…you know, pregnant.”

“Pregnant,” you repeated as he nodded shyly. He was studying your pretty face, trying to gauge your reaction, but you gave nothing away. Looking between him and the box you worried your bottom lip between your teeth, “you know…I think you might be right.”

“Oh?”

“I, umm, started to wonder the same thing,” you confessed, “but I got scared, ‘cause I didn’t want to take a test and have it be negative. But if you think so too, Nurse Harrington, then maybe…I am.”

“Hey,” he gently turned your face towards his, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, “it’s alright even if its negative. We’re already a family, you know? And whatever other family we want to have, we’ll get them one way or another. There’s no need to stress - if not now, then soon. In the future, there’s always time.”

“Yeah,” you choked up as you nodded at him. He always knew just what to say, “you’re right. I love you.”

“I love you,” it was a soft, gentle promise, “take it when you’re ready.”

“Do you mind watching the food?” you reached for the box and his hands found your hips as he gently nudged you in the direction of the bathroom, causing you to giggle in amusement, “I’ll be back in a few!”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You looked at the small plastic stick on the bathroom counter, you let out a small sigh. Why did this short wait feel like the longest one in history? You paced around the bathroom, trying to keep your eyes away from the test and instead focused on reorganizing the bathroom cabinet. If you were going to have to wait, you might as well be productive. You’d thought about going out to wait with Steve, but you wanted to bring him the news instead. Hopefully the good news.

After what you were sure should have been enough time you glanced at your watch and saw that just enough time had elapsed. Your heart felt like it was going to burst through your ribcage as you anxiously snatched the test off the granite counter.

Two pink lines. Pregnant.

You threw open the door and ran down the hall and made it to the kitchen. Steve looked up at the sudden intrusion; he felt just as nervous as you had looked and waited in anticipation. You nodded and held up the test before sliding it over to him. He took a look at it and before you knew it, you were wrapped up in his arms. 

“I’m pregnant!”

“You’re pregnant,” he grinned, brushing away the tears that had rolled down your cheeks, “I love you so much, angel.”

“I love you, Steve,” you touched his face, looking into his pretty ochre eyes, “I guess it all makes sense now…I don’t know how I was so blind.”

“It’s not that weird,” he insisted as you laughed lightly, “Brenda said she didn’t know at first either…”

“You told Brenda?” you snorted in amusement, knowing that the two of them shared a close bond, “how did you…”

“I needed a second opinion,” he winked cheekily, “she’s never been wrong!”

“And neither have you, my love,” you pressed your forehead against his, “I’m guessing half the hospital probably knows already.”

“Oh yeah,” he grinned, “she can’t keep a secret.”

“Neither can you apparently,” he shrugged sheepishly as you beamed at him, “but that’s okay. I…I’m really excited.”

“Me too,” Steve looked at you as though you had hung all the stars in the sky, causing you to practically melt. You loved him so much, just as he did you, “me too, angel.”

This was going to be a whole new adventure. 

[cvpiddszn]

𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝐣.𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

a/n: first time writing on tumblr, just needed some angst. it's an au that i made, sorry if the names are confusing. might make a part two.

summary: birdie is tired of feeling like jack doesn't love her anymore

warnings: babies, swearing, angst, a whole lot of frustration

word count: 2.7k

series: part one, part two, part three

I never thought that after five years I would’ve gotten into a routine with my children but with time, I did. I loved my two boys but with our newer arrival; Amara Lane Hughes, being born in the summer didn’t have all the perks. Sure it meant that Jack was around for her birth and there to help me but it also meant that Amara became more codependent on her father being there every waking moment.

It seemed only a minute ago –it had been two hours– that I had put down the little hothead. She was falling asleep in my arms after crying out. It was clear that she missed her father. Sometimes I wished that Jack had just left the girl alone, but he always caved desperate to hold the little girl. He refused to let her sleep in her crib, setting her in between us late at night when I was only too exhausted to argue. I often wondered if our spark was gone, that we didn’t have any of our youth left and with Jack constantly with our baby, there was never a second alone for us. Kisses on the cheek and small praises were all that were exchanged between us.

I knew that it was wrong to feel this way. Especially when I knew that I loved Amara with my entire heart. I should be thankful that I have a husband that loves their kids so much but some part of me was selfish. I just wanted a minute with my husband, but it seemed that when he was home and when it was time for the little girl's nap, Daddy always tucked her into our large bed and fell asleep with her.

The loud cry from my daughter’s room snapped me from my daze. I blinked at the screen, Jack’s hockey team’s highlights playing on the screen. I pushed myself from the couch, the twins; Lowen and Lake, sitting on the other end of the couch happily watching their father’s game highlights, pointing at the people they knew. 

I flipped the lights of Amara’s bedroom on, I knew that the little girl preferred our bed now, after too many times that Jack took her in there. It didn’t help that I had just finished breastfeeding, resorting to formula now. Amara was not okay with the change in her life. I picked up the girl whose eyes adjusted to the brightness, realizing that it was her mother rather than her father, she instantly began to cry.

I bounced her softly, cooing in hopes that it would calm her but she continued to cry, “Sh, Mara. It’s okay, Daddy’ll be back tomorrow. How does that sound?” I spoke quietly, admiring her blue eyes much like J’s. At the mention of her father, the girl’s eyes frantically looked around searching for her protector upon realizing that he wasn’t there she cried louder.

I hoped that at the sight of her brothers, she calmed, so I took her into the living room settling on the couch. Lake perked his head up at his little sister, settling beside his little sister and I but the little girl only whined further. The little girl’s head snapped at the sound of her father’s voice, she perked up towards the TV, showing an post-game interview. A gurgling noise came from her as her smile came shining through. Amara’s other hand –that was not gripping onto my finger– made a grabby motion at the TV. 

“Do you boys mind finding me your sister’s soother? I think it might be in Daddy and I’s room on the bedside table.” I asked, to which Lake and Lowen both nodded being the angel children they were. I couldn’t remember a time that they never listened to me, being momma’s boys all the way. I was beginning to miss that stage when my babies needed me and didn’t cry constantly. They were good babies. Upon the boys' leave, Amara only cried harder, the echoing sound beginning to hurt my ears. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I wish your dad was here too,” I began to speak, feeling the knot at the back of my throat, “You should be lucky, Mara. Daddy loves you so much. If he could steal the world for you, he’d do it.”

Tears of frustration began to fall as my daughter threw her hands out in a tantrum, I laid her back against my thighs, and the girl squirmed from side to side unsatisfied with how everything was going. I attempted to keep my voice light, but with tears continuing to fall I couldn’t help but feel my heart get lodged into my throat, “I don’t know how to make it stop, sweetheart. You’re probably just tired.” It wasn’t a lie, she hadn’t gotten much sleep in her bed which she had never gotten used to, but it was always me who had never gotten any sleep.

Lake stopped in front of me, noticing my sadness, he frowned. “Don’t cry, Mommy.” He said, his thumb coming forth to wipe away the tears falling. With the pacifier in his hand, he placed it into Amara’s mouth, whose crying began to stop. Lake crawled in beside me placing a pillow under his arm patting it softly and I took his hint. Passing Amara over to her older brother who had this gentle look in his eyes as he stared at the infant.

All the while, Lowen Hughes had gotten ahold of my phone, calling his father immediately. Pressing the phone over his ear, to listen to the ring. It wasn’t unusual that Lowen called his father, they made sure to check in on each other constantly, talking to their father through my text messages or calls. 

“Hey, Bird I’m kind of busy right now. So I’ll need to call you back. Later tonight with the boys-”

“Dad?” Lowen asked gently making sure to keep his voice down to that I wouldn’t hear. The last thing he needed was to get in trouble for calling Dad while he was working.

There was a silent pause for a moment, one filled with confusion on the other end. “Hey, bud. What’re you doing with your mom’s phone?” A door shut on the other side, for privacy.

“Lake said that he saw mom crying with baby Amara,” Lowen stated quietly, he peered out the door checking to see the three of them were still occupied. “Mara is giving Mom a hard time. When do you get back?”

“I get back tomorrow morning, bud. I’ll be there when you wake up. Do you want to hand the phone to Mom?” At his father’s question, Lowen nodded, not realizing that his father couldn’t see him. The younger boy walked out into the living room, holding my phone out to me. I raised my brow in question and he mouthed back “Dad”.

With Lake and now, Lowen, being preoccupied with their little sister that was sleeping soundly in Lake’s arms. “Hey,” I spoke into the phone, my voice soft as a small smile finally graced my face, warmth filling my body at the thought of Jack calling me to check up on her.

“Lo called,” my heart dropped, “How’s my girl doing?” Jack’s voice was a comfort to hear, better than the screaming cries of our daughter on the couch. 

The warmth was back, “Good, she misses you,” I spoke, clearly talking about myself as I kept hushed over the phone like it was a secret that I couldn’t share with anyone else, certain that Amara would scream in jealousy at me getting to talk to her father.

“Really? Lo said she was giving you a hard time. I’ll be home soon, babe.” The tears began to well up in my eyes again as I crouched into the corner, away from the sight of my children but my eyes were always trained on them. I had truly thought that he meant me. It was an honest mistake. I felt so fucking stupid and selfish thinking that I deserved more effort from my husband. This was the life that I had wanted.

My hand covered my sobs over my mouth, letting out a half hum of a reply. Everything was tuned out as I could hear the beeping of the other line completely missing everything that my husband was blabbering on about. Too focused on trying to slow my heart rate and compose herself for my children.

Through blurry tears, my finger hovered over the contact before pressing it, listening to the rings go through one after the other. The one person I knew would be there in a second without hesitance. Her best friend. And she would be sure to call Isla right after, knowing that she would want to know exactly what happened, though I didn’t need a mediator right now, I needed comfort that I was right to know that it was okay for me to feel like this rather than having to talk to my husband about it.

“Hey, Bird! Did you see that picture I sent you? Holls is a little troublemaker just like her father is.” Kiera cooed softly at her child, but I couldn’t hold it in, I sobbed into the phone curling my hands before pushing my nails deeply into my palms like I did when I was younger. “Oh my god, Bird! Are you okay? Fuck, I’m coming over, bringing Holls with me. You’re telling me everything!”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Holland and Amara were sleeping soundly upstairs. Kiera used one of the twins’ old cribs for Holland. Amara was quiet most of the time, having her Aunt Kiera set her into her bed while I cuddled up to Holland who was rather fond of me. Kiera soon took up her daughter –who had fallen asleep in her my arms– into a crib. 

The brunette let me lean my head against her chest, listening to her heartbeat. The twins put on some movie that they liked but eventually, it was going to be their bedtime too. “I swear, babies like everyone but the person that birthed them.” The brunette commented, her hand running through my hair in a soothing manner that I was sure could have me falling asleep in a few seconds.

“I don’t know how you do it, Kie.” I sighed, my body comforted in warmth between her sister and a blanket that my boys had placed on us. 

Kiera just laughed, “Bird, you’ve got two amazing boys. And they’re twins by the way! With Amara, you’ve got three kids to take care of you. One isn’t even a year old yet! You’re doing great, Bird.” She kissed the top of my head letting me be lulled to sleep. “I’ll put the boys to sleep, Bird. It’s okay. I’ve got you.” Her arms tightened around me, squeezing me every once in a while to let me know that she was always there and when I could hear hushed whispers and small steps on the floor I finally calmed to sleep. The first time that I had in three days.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"You listen here Jack Hughes,” Kiera Finch’s finger pushed against her brother-in-law’s chest, “I’m taking your three children sometime this week. You are going to take out your wife, and show her that you still love her.” She spoke quietly, looking rather intimidating as baby Holland was placed onto her hip.

Nico kissed his wife on the cheek to which she smiled softly, patting his cheek gently before he grabbed onto the diaper bag pulling it up onto his shoulder. “Let’s go, firecracker.” He joked, beginning to poke Holland’s sides to which she giggled, hands reaching out towards her father.

Kie hummed, snapping her head back as she glared at Jack. “Understand? I’ll text you the details and when you will be doing it. Don’t screw this up, Hughes.” Despite his confusion at his sister-in-law’s speech and rather harsh scolding, he nodded along wishing nothing more than to curl up with his baby girl.

When the door shut, Jack smiled at the smell of his home knowing that his wife would be asleep in their bed. He decided that he didn’t want to wake her up, he would take some weight off her chest, get the two boys ready for school and little Amara up from her sleep. 

He learned that he shouldn’t question when Kiera Hischier came over to their house, though he at least thought that she would’ve stopped with the nine-month-old but she never did. No matter how young the baby was or how tired they were Kiera always made time to see her big sister. Sometimes they even had Flora and Wren –Flora's step-daughter– come over with them. Wren was good with the younger girls, and it wasn’t a surprise when Bird told Jack that Wren had asked Flora when she and Dawson were going to have a kid.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

I didn't sleep as long as I wanted to. If I could’ve stayed asleep in a coma, I would’ve, but the overwhelming smell of bacon filled the room. I realized that early on during my pregnancy with Amara, I hated the smell of bacon, the sad reality was that it turns out that it was something that never ended after she was born. Which was extremely upsetting because I really loved bacon.

After getting ready, I walked into the kitchen. Smiling at my children, Lo and Lake sat at the table chowing down their pancakes. Their appetites were quite large for five-year-olds but it wasn’t something unusual. Ellen said that J’s eating habits were the same as a kids.

“Babe, you’re up! I thought I’d let you sleep in a bit.” Jack’s voice made me jump. I knew that he was supposed to be back but something in my mind had pushed it back. As he leaned forward for a kiss, I turned my face allowing him to kiss my cheek. No ‘I missed you’ or ‘I love yous’ from either of us, a tension filling the room.

I ignored my husband, kissing my boys on their heads. Smiling at Amara who giggled softly, in a much better mood with her father home now. Pressing a kiss to her head, I ran a hand over her head feeling the amount of hair. There was quite a bit, especially for so young but I loved her regardless, certain that she picked it up from my younger sister; Flora, who had a full head of blonde hair practically as soon as she was born. 

The two boys placed their dishes into the sink, grabbing their lunches that had been packed the day before. The three of us had a routine down by the start of October with Jack’s morning skates. Normally they consisted of Amara tagging along with us but I assumed that Jack wanted the little girl to himself for a while. Getting in their constant father-daughter bonding time.

I grabbed my phone off the charger, seeing the missed call from last night. I could the van door slam shut outside. “Shit, sorry I missed your call.” I frowned, shoving the phone into the back pocket of my jeans. At the sudden grasp on my waist, I gasped, steadying myself by holding onto Jack’s shoulders.

“We should do something today. You, Amara, and I? What do you say, Mama?” His charming smile almost made me want to say yes. To spend the entire day together, hoping that the hole that was in my heart filled with borrowed time. A sudden whine interrupted Jack from saying anything more, he sighed leaning his head onto my shoulder.

“Your girl is calling you,” I teased, and I know that I shouldn’t have made the dig. It was our baby. It was my baby. It felt wrong that I felt so jealous of something so small, something so big in our life, something I knew might’ve happened. I didn’t have a right to feel like this, it wasn’t right to feel like this. “I’ve got errands to run today. Maybe some other time?” 

“Yeah, okay.” It wasn’t my fault that I didn’t see the sadness on his face, our daughter squealing in anger needing some sort of attention from her father, but Jack couldn’t even stay focused watching me, his wife, walk out of the house like there was nothing wrong when we both knew deep down that something was so very wrong.