#i saw how all of them were telling them to calm down or telling them straight up they were annoying and exhausting

[navybrat817]

Hold You Tight: Part 2

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Chapter Summary: You're anxious before your date.

Chapter Word Count: Over 3.1k

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, stalking, coercion, threats (not against reader), creepy and unhinged behavior, flashback, possessiveness, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight! Hope you lovelies enjoy and thank you for the feedback so far! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You loved working at the flower shop. Putting together beautiful arrangements and bringing joy to others made you happy. But today, the morning after that stranger showed up in your home, you weren’t fully alert as you went about your tasks. The air around you felt different, thicker. Flipping through the order book, you attempted to look busy instead of walking around in a haze.

Whenever you began to focus, your mind would drift back to Bucky Barnes and your upcoming date. You hadn’t told Addison or anyone else about it because what could you tell them? How could you explain your situation?

You hadn’t even slept in your own bed thanks to that man.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed seated on the couch once Bucky left your place. You’d have to move eventually, but you were replaying what happened in your head like a song on repeat and tried to make sense of it. A man broke into your home, but didn’t steal anything. Held you in his lap, but didn’t violate you.

No, that last part wasn’t true. That was exactly what he did. He violated your safety. And demanded a date with you.

You jerked when your phone dinged, but your heart only pounded faster when you saw a message from a new contact.

Bucky.

“I wish I could’ve stayed the night, but I’ll dream about you and count down the minutes until our date. Don’t forget about your gifts.”

He knew the date was on because how could you say no?

Your stomach dropped as you glanced down the hall. Wiping the remaining tears away, you got to your feet and cautiously made your way toward your bedroom. You weren’t expecting anyone to be there, but who knew what he did while you were at work? And what if he came back?

Would you scream for help or call the police?

“Just go in,” you whispered.

Pushing the door open with a shaky hand and flipping on the light, everything looked normal as you looked around and approached the bed. Everything except the garment and gift bag in the middle of it. They taunted you, daring you to look inside. At the very least, to read the small card on top of the bag.

You caught a small whiff of the cologne he wore as you picked it up and read the single statement.

“This is just the beginning, doll.”

The card slipped from your shaky hand. It would’ve been romantic under normal circumstances. You looked inside the gift bag next, but it did nothing to calm your nerves. Not only was it your favorite perfume as he stated, but it was the largest size available.

You unzipped the garment bag after and gasped at the sight of the dress. It was from a designer you admired, but could never afford. Simple yet beautiful in design, you had to stop yourself from running your hand over the fabric. Yes, it was a beautiful dress and it was just the right size.

But it came with strings attached.

“How?”

You half expected to see a blinking light when your eyes darted to the corners of your bedroom, but everything still looked ordinary. Nothing looked out of place. It didn’t stop your skin from crawling at the thought of him watching you. Because how did he know your size and the kind of perfume you liked? That you liked having a glass of wine when you took a bath? The password to your phone?

How did he know anything about you?

That was perhaps one of the most terrifying aspects about your ordeal: He was clearly powerful and connected, yet you didn’t know exactly what he was capable of or how far he’d go.

It took you a minute to type back a message to him. “Thank you for the gifts.”

A response came back almost immediately. Was he waiting by his phone for you? “Like I said, it’s just the beginning. I have another gift waiting for you, but you’ll have to wait until tomorrow for that one. It’s a surprise.”

You suddenly didn’t like surprises.

Could you accept gifts wrapped in pretty bows if it meant keeping those you cared about safe? Would you be a living doll to satisfy whatever craving he had that led him to you? At the very least, you’d have to play along for one night to try and get some answers.

“I’m sure it’ll be a nice surprise. Good night.” You sent, hoping he’d get the hint and leave you be.

“Sweet dreams.”

Grabbing a blanket, you made your way back to the living room and curled up in your oversized chair. There wouldn’t be any sweet dreams. Not tonight. Not with the way your mind raced.

Because who the hell was Bucky Barnes and why did he want you?

The bell over the door rang, pulling you from your thoughts and reminding you that you had a job to do. You blinked as a tall man with golden hair and bright blue eyes walked in. A new customer from what you gathered, and an intimidating one at that. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until you exhaled once he smiled in your direction.

“Hi,” you said, closing your book. “How can I help you?”

“I’m here to get some flowers for my girl,” he replied, the deep timbre gentle yet commanding. “No special occasion or anything. I just want to surprise her.”

A smile touched your lips. “That’s one of the best reasons to get someone flowers,” you said. You liked to imagine your future husband would get you flowers just because he felt like it. “Does she have a favorite?”

“Tulips,” he answered without hesitation. “Any color as long as they’re tulips.”

You stepped around the corner and led him to the premade arrangements. “We have this multicolored bouquet that she may like. Brightens the room and has an uplifting aroma.”

The gentleman reached out to touch one of the petals before he nodded. “She’ll love them,” he said more to himself than to you.

He sounded like a man in love.

“I’m sure she will,” you agreed, carefully carrying it to the counter so you could ring it up. Your skin prickled when you felt his eyes on you, but you told yourself to relax. This guy wasn’t like Bucky. You were paranoid after last night and he was likely watching just to make sure you didn’t drop the bouquet. “Will this be all for you?”

“Which one is your favorite?”

“My favorite?” You repeated as he waited for your response. The question surprised you, but you nodded to one of the recent arrangements you made. “It’s hard to choose a favorite, but I like stargazer lilies.”

You sometimes brought arrangements home for yourself since you couldn’t remember the last time anyone got you flowers.

“I’ll take those, too,” he said, going to get the vase himself. “I really appreciate your help.”

“It was nothing,” you smiled, ringing up the order. “And you made my job very easy, so thank you.”

“Your partner must feel very lucky to have you,” he said before you paused.

Biting your tongue, you stopped yourself from correcting him. You didn’t have a partner. A possible stalker? Yes.

His brows furrowed as he quietly paid. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

You shook your head and put your best customer service smile back on your face. “No apologies. I actually have a first date tonight. Maybe he’s the one,” you told him, the words tasting like ash in your mouth. “I hope your girl enjoys her flowers.”

He smiled back as he took the bouquets and receipt. “Me, too,” he said, something sparkling in his eye when he added, “Good luck on your date.”

The blonde left without another word, leaving you to grip the counter and wonder how the hell you were going to get through your evening.

You stood in front of your bedroom mirror hours later, admiring yourself in the dress. It fit you well. Beautifully, as much as you didn’t want to admit it. You spritzed yourself with the perfume too. Might as well use it since Bucky was likely expecting it.

The scent should’ve brought a smile to your face instead of tears to your eyes.

“Hey! Still on for hanging out tomorrow?” Addison messaged you as you checked the time on your phone.

You blinked the tears away and realized you hadn’t messaged her once today. You were afraid to. If you mentioned Bucky, it would tempt you to spill what happened since you hardly kept anything from your best friend. And if you told her what happened…

Bucky would know.

With a shudder, you messaged her back. “Yep! See you then.”

The tension in your body skyrocketed when your doorbell rang at 7pm, right down to the second. “Be right there!” You called, shoving your phone in your clutch before you took one last look in the mirror. What did it matter if you looked good or not? It was a forced date.

You exhaled as you opened the door and froze when you saw Bucky standing on the other side. You foolishly thought he wouldn’t show, but luck wasn’t on your side. The sharp, dark suit he wore and air of confidence he carried had your heart pounding in your chest. The glove covering his left hand somehow worked with the suit.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his gaze sweeping over you. Why did he look at you like you were something to be desired? “You are so beautiful.”

Butterflies filled your stomach despite your fear. If only he had approached you and asked you out like a normal guy. “Thanks,” you whispered, locking the door once you were in the hall.

Did he have your spare key or did he find a way to get a copy?

“I wore this suit to match your dress,” he said, giving you an expectant look.

The guy was actually fishing for a compliment. “And you look very handsome,” you said, a smile lighting up his face.

“Thanks.” He held his arm out, satisfaction filling his eyes when you took it. “I’m glad you said ’yes’ to this date.”

“I’m sure you would’ve found a way to convince me if I didn’t,” you told him, reminding yourself that accepting this kept your loved ones safe and sound.

“I would have,” he agreed, keeping you close as he led you outside to where a luxury car was waiting. The car likely cost more than what you made in a year. “But you saved me the trouble by agreeing like the good, smart girl I know you are.”

You didn’t thank him for the “compliment”.

Bucky didn’t wait for the driver to open the door, grabbing the handle and helping you inside himself. You slid across the seat and tried to keep your dress from riding up as he got in beside you. He didn’t allow you any breathing room as the glass partition went up and the car took off. You were alone with him.

He could do whatever he wanted.

“You can sit in my lap if you’d like,” he said to break the silence. “It’s nice and comfortable.”

“No thanks,” you said, glancing ahead at the glass when he took your hand. You’d been in his lap the night before and that was more than enough. “Doesn’t seem safe.”

“You can sit here after dinner then,” he suggested, smirking when you glanced out of the corner of your eye.

Your stomach turned at that. He mentioned it took everything in him not to drag you to bed. You believed him. How long would he hold out before he tried to make a move?

“Sorry I didn’t text you today. I didn’t want to bother or overwhelm you while you were working,” he continued, kissing each of your knuckles as you stared straight ahead again. “At least not right away.”

“How considerate of you,” you muttered.

He chuckled and pressed another kiss to your hand before he held it in his lap. You stiffened and for a moment you thought he’d put your palm to his crotch. You weren’t sure what to expect from him.

“Look. I want tonight to be good for both of us. I’m sure you have a lot of questions and I’ll do my best to give you answers,” he said, tucking a bit of hair behind his ear as he addressed the elephant in the room. “I know a lot about you, but I imagine you don’t know much about me.”

“No, I don’t,” you admitted. As tempted as you were to look up his name, you refrained and couldn’t put your finger on why. “If I ask you questions, will you lie to me?”

“I have no reason to lie.” He brought a gloved hand to your cheek and forced you to meet his gaze. Even in the dark of the car, you could see the want in his eyes. “I want you to trust me.”

Trust the man with zero respect for boundaries? Could you do that? “Addison’s bachelorette party was a month ago. Was that really the first time you saw me?”

“It was. Everything changed when I saw you,” he replied, moving his hand from your face down to your neck. Like he just had to touch you. “Though it didn’t take a month to track you down, it did give me time to do my research and find out everything I could about you. Where you live, where you work, your interests, your routine. I like to be thorough.”

You turned your head away when it began to spin, trying to understand how he sounded so casual in his admittance to stalking you. You also couldn’t keep looking into those blue eyes. They would drown you.

What you wanted to ask was if he was watching you in your home. But trapped in that small space with him, what if his answer freaked you out more? He said he wouldn’t hurt you, but would he keep that promise?

The question that came out instead was, “And you just decided during that time that you wanted me?”

Your eyes shut as his lips touched your ear. “I wanted you the moment I saw you,” he whispered, making you shiver at the feel of his breath. “And the more I learned about you, the more you pulled me in. I’m just a moth drawn to your flame. And you’re exactly who I want by my side.”

His words washed over you, wearing you down like a stone sinking in the water. It was too much. Too intense. “Where are we going?”

“Mmm. Our date.” You exhaled when his fingers brushed along your arm. “I thought about renting out a restaurant or taking you away to an island for our first date. Something intimate and private. Then I thought, what’s more intimate and private than my penthouse?”

“Your penthouse?” You asked, opening your eyes.

“Yeah, my home,” he smiled, either not noticing or caring when your eyes rounded. “It’s the best spot in town, of course. Can’t beat the view. And we don’t need any eavesdroppers now, do we?”

Your heart sank as you reached for your phone. People would at least be able to see you in a public place, but his home? That was like going into the heart of a lion’s den. It would be so easy to message Addison or Dana and ask for some sort of help without giving too many details. You could-

Bucky took the phone from your hand and tucked it in his jacket pocket. “You won’t need that tonight,” he stated, something in his calm tone telling you not to argue. “I have a chef preparing dinner and a dessert and I selected a nice bottle of wine for us to share. I also want to give you a tour after the meal since it’s going to be your home sooner or later.”

You choked on your next breath. “It’s what?”

“We’re here,” he smiled, terror gripping you when the car stopped in an underground parking garage. “You can ask me more questions inside.”

“Bucky, did you say this is going to be my home?” You pressed as he helped you out, having to rush to keep up with him as he pulled you to an elevator.

You hoped that wasn’t the gift he wanted to surprise you with tonight.

“Not right away, but yes. My place is a bit safer than yours and it’s close to my club and your shop. A win-win,” he said, scanning a key card before the doors opened. “Don’t look so surprised. Most couples live together.”

You refrained from telling him that you weren’t a couple. “I think that’s moving a bit too fast,” you said, your voice cracking as he pulled you inside, keeping you right beside him even though there was plenty of space to be apart. “This is only our first date,” you added, not wanting to upset him.

“That’s why I said it wouldn’t be right away,” he teased, pressing the button for the top floor as his other hand rubbed your hip. “But soon.”

You kept your breathing under control as the elevator climbed higher. The man had your future mapped out and you had only known him for a day. Was this some sick, elaborate game that he was playing to scare the hell out of you? Or had he convinced himself that this was romantic?

“I hope you like it,” he said softly as you stepped out together and walked toward a man who stood by the door. He was just as large as Bucky, but didn’t dare make eye contact with you as he opened the door and let you in.

The spacious entrance opened up to a large living space with high ceilings and marble floors. It was admittedly gorgeous and you hadn’t seen the rest of the place yet. But that wasn’t what caught your attention. It was the flowers in the middle of the table a few feet in front of you.

The coy smile on Bucky’s face made your blood freeze when you faced him. “Those are your favorite, aren’t they?” He asked.

They weren’t just your favorite flowers.

It was the same arrangement of stargazer lilies you sold to the blonde gentleman earlier today.

“I told you, doll. I know everything about you,” he began as the clutch fell from your hand and the door shut with a heavy thud. “And I have eyes and ears everywhere.”

Zero chill, lovelies. What's the surprise he has for you? How will this date go? And did you like the appearance from the man in the shop? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[hana-no-seiiki]

WHY DON’T YOU GIVE ME A SMILE? (ACT 2)

YANDERE! BATFAM x JINX (ARCANE/LEAGUE)-ESQUE! READER

[ ACT ONE HERE ]

cw/tw: mentally ill reader. schizophrenic reader. reader w/ abandonment issues. manipulative reader. crimes. arson.

summary: we dive deeper into Gotham's explosive personality and history with those that took the title of ‘boy wonder’

MORE ON YOUR ORIGINS

“They were right! You’re just a Jinx.”

“Everybody shut up! I need to think!”

“We weren’t . . . “

As much as you scared the crap out of Joker’s goons. Since they saw you grow up first hand. A lot of them tended to be overprotective over you.

I mean, they’re insane enough to follow Joker. What more you?

They see you as his successor. An heir of sorts.

Which is why Jason Todd felt like he had no choice but to either fix you or keep you locked up.

You don’t remember much of him. If you did you would hate him.

He was the one that essentially helped you pull the trigger on your family.

If you haven’t read my other posts about it, here’s the rundown.

Jason had a massive crush on reader when the two of em were kids. Prior to everything. Before he was adopted, before reader set their world ablaze, before shit hit the fan essentially.

He saw how neglected you felt. The rejection you faced from your peers for not being strong enough. For being small and weak.

Him and your sister were pretty popular amongst the kids but it only made the comparisons worse.

It was always how they were “twice the kids at [Y/N]’s age.”

And so he thought of a little gift. Just a little something to show the others how cool you really are.

He didn’t expect you to use it that way. And the worst part of it all, he wasn’t there to comfort you. I mean sure, dozens of people died that day. Many of which he was somewhat fond of. But he was sure they’d want him to comfort you. To say that it wasn’t your fault.

And despite all that, you only knew Jason as that one guy Joker went too far with.

“Hey, [N/N].”

The call of your name almost froze you on the spot. Their screams pushed forward from the back of your mind into the forefront. You didn’t think. Your hands just pulled the trigger of your machine gun on its own.

“Who the hell are you?��� You grit your teeth. You’ve heard of this Red Hood going around and ruining your adoptive father’s plans lately.

And what’s worse? The man kept forcing you to stay away. Plying you with all sorts of prostitutes and all the money you could ever need or want.

Despite your hostile disposition, the man in question doesn’t return it. “I’m sorry. This was all my fault. I shouldn’t have left you behind.”

“Leave.” You lowered your machine gun. A sudden wave of drowsiness overwhelmed you. A sense of calm. Weakness. Everything was screaming at you to end the source. But if he kept dodging your bullets them perhaps diplomacy would work.

You breathed out. [Y/N]. That name, that identity — though it fell down a well and was long dead it still had it uses.

Softened voice, doe eyes, and posture loose. If you had no other weapon they you always had your vulnerability.

“You need to leave, Joker is coming soon and I can’t help you if you’re caught.”

“Who was that, Jinx?” Joker asked.

You turned around. Your eyes meeting his chest and then his face, where that wide, freakish grin was stuck unto him.

“Old man, I think you mean what.” The toxic pink glint flashed through your eyes as you once again buried your old self along with the rest of the corpses that have met their demise by your hand.

“Meet Fishbones.”

BACK TO YOUR RIVAL:

Recently Tim had been . . . more agreeable to your demands somewhat?

You could tell he was pulling his punches.

Sometimes he’d even join you in your exploits.

You never trusted him of course. You never trusted anyone but yourself. But he was fun to be around is all. Whether it was you two beating each other to near death or blowing up buildings (he made sure to evacuate its residents before you two went all out).

“You know. I kinda wanna blow up that building. Don’t you think we’ll have a better view of the sky that way, Timmy?” You pointed to the structure with your signature gun shaped hand gesture.

That was one of Bruce’s buildings.

“You . . . “ Tim blinked at you a couple of times. “are so right.”

“Let’s go.” You yanked him the hand.

Tim smiled. Even if he wasn’t making direct contact with your skin, and you with his — he couldn’t help but smile at the intimacy of this moment. What were his worries with you beside him? All the sadness and anger felt so fleeting when he was with you.

His glee almost costed him his life as it took him a couple of moments to realize that you have pushed him off a building after a while of parkour.

He managed to grapple himself back, and with your assistance, he got back up to the ledge you two were on.

He gave you one half hearted glare. You laugh at his face, “You’re such a loser! Always ready to cry! Wah wah wah!” And you set off. Getting within the building with no care for stealth whatsoever.

What was the point of being all sneaky like when you had bombs on you?

"Wait up! Get back here!" Tim ran after you. He didn’t mind that you were essentially destroying all his and Bruce’s hard-work on his industries, but you were being too reckless. He would sure as hell minded if you were caught.

Turns out he wasn’t so far off when it came to his fears and suspicions.

“You. You set me up.” You glared at him. Hands on your blaster. Ready to shoot at a moment’s notice. Your eyes flicking between the men in front of you, wondering who was best to pick off first.

Batman, Nightwing, or the man you stupidly thought was your friend.

“No. No you have to believe me I—“ Tim tried to explain. But Dick cuts him off, “Good job, we couldn’t have done it without you.”

“You traitor. I knew it. I knew it.” Your voice got weaker and weaker.

No, no, no. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. This wasn’t part of the plan. Tim was supposed to be with you for longer.

“I told you, you have no choice.” Bruce finally spoke. His cape moved to his back.

He wasn’t going to let you go. Not without making it bloody.

“Oh, boohoo. You’ve always been no fun!” Your eyes never leave the two dark suited men, but Tim knew you were speaking to him. “Good thing I never trusted you.”

And you take a deep breath, dropping the laughing gas Harley gave you for emergencies. It wasn’t as strong as the original one, hell you’re sure that those people probably expected that move. But it at least blocked their line of sights on you, allowing you to create some distance.

You managed to get far enough to ready your weapons and send a call of help to your adoptive parents before your prediction proved to be true — footsteps behind you; loud and clear.

“Look’s like we’ve got even more company. Huh, boy savior?”

“Don’t move and I won’t cut you down.”

Pow pow in your hand, and desperation in your mind. The last thing you heard is a blade unsheathing before you pull the trigger.

୨ ©️ ୧⸝⸝﹕hana.no.seiiki - yun | 2024﹐⊂☁️⊃ ‹𝟹

AUTHOR’s NOTE: YALL THOUGHT THIS WAS GONE!! WELL THINK AGAIN!! I AM BACK!!! Sorry for the late update!! Man I’m so excited for season 2 of arcane ahahsheudidj

Taglist: @w31rdg1rl @cherry-peach-flavored @ice-cream-writes-stuff @speckle-meow-meow @inejghafawifesblog @sitepathos @mimiissia @rolo-at-midnight @mossyvampire @kawaiimusiccollection @harpy-space @takottai @maddeningmangos @obsessed-with-a-fictional @ihatemylifeuwu @caramelstrikezz @szapizzapanda @vanessa-boo @imbiafandbored @victor-rose @earphonejack09 @rainnyydaysworld @bubbabobabubbles @ksziggy @evan-trand @emo-z0mbiezzz @nyra-42 @h0rr0r-10ver-69 @orangeboulevard @alwayszealousdetective @huhuhhuhh @iwasveronica @imginarygirl @nebuluma @heyitsaloy @mysticalhills

[cameronspecial]

I was wondering if you could do dad drew based of this video https://www.instagram.com/reel/C6Z8HtbA6MA/?igsh=MXdsc2hwdzFxd2c3Ng== idk if you still take requests tho but I hope you do cause I love your dad drew series 🫶🏼🫶🏼💗💗

Baby Whisperer

Pairing: Dad!Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings: Feel Inadequate As A Father

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.6K

A/N: I saw this reel before you requested it and it was so cute! Thank you for requesting it!

Masterlist

Sometimes it’s like babies speak a different language. This became even more clear to Drew when his baby girl began to speak. Drew remembers the first time he was able to understand Joy’s babble clearly. Her first word. Dada. However, since the milestone, not all words were coherent to the actor. 

Drew lies on the stomach on the floor in front of Joy. She sits upright with a pillow behind her to provide comfort. Her pudgy hands grip the blocks and she brings them to the box with different shape holes at the top. She plops the toy into the correct hole. “Yay,” Drew cheers, clapping in celebration. The unexcited reaction from the toddler tells the father it is time to move on from the activity. He sits up and brings her onto his lap. She stares up at him, wondering why he stopped their game. “Hmm, you are bored. Aren’t you?” he questions. “What do you want to do?” Silence falls over them. The look in her eyes shows the gears are turning in her mind. “Pack!” she exclaims with elation. Drew’s brows meet at a point, “Pack? What do you want to pack, Baby?” 

She repeats her words, “Pack!” “Do you want a backpack?” he tries. The confusion on her father’s face begins to frustrate her. “Pack. Pack,” she whines. Her tiny fist kneads at his shirt. 

The high-pitched cries of her daughter summons Y/N to the living room. “Hey, what’s wrong?” she inquires. Her footsteps carry her in front of her little family and she rests her hand at the bottom of her dad’s back. Her husband looks at her with matching distraught to their daughter. “She’s trying to tell me something and I can’t understand her.” Y/N nods, “Go on, Baby.” Joy calms her tears. “Pack.” Her voice is small, fearful her mother isn’t going to understand her. “Pack.” It takes the mother a second to process the information. “Ohhh, Snack Pack. You want pudding, Baby?” 

Relief flashes over the girl's face and she nods vigorously. “Pack! Pack!” Both parents look at each other with understanding. “Okay, Baby. Let’s go get you some pudding,” Drew announces, dancing his way into the kitchen with his baby girl in his arms. 

The couple gets their daughter settled with her snack. She sits in her high chair and her father is in front of her, spoon-feeding her the dessert. The silicone tip of the rounded utensil follows the cover of the baby’s bottom lip to scoop the excess pudding into her mouth. As she chews the food, Drew puts the spoon down and smooths back her growing hair. “It’s so cute how satisfied she is with the pudding.” Y/N smiles at them, “It is. I think it might be her new favourite snack. I mean, did you see how angry she was getting when we couldn’t understand her.” Drew frowns, “Not we. When I couldn’t understand her. You swooped in and were a baby translator.”

“What’s wrong, Drew?” 

“I’m her father. I’m supposed to be able to help her and I didn’t even know what she was saying. I failed her.” 

Pain pangs through her heart and she places her palm on top of his hand. “You didn’t fail her. You may not understand her verbal expressions yet, but I know you can read her non-verbal ones just like one of your scripts.”

“What do you mean?”

“I could hear you guys from the other room, Drew. You guys were playing with the blocks and then you randomly asked her if she was bored. She didn’t cry or express it verbally. I know you saw that she wasn’t excited anymore so you switched tracks. A father who failed their daughter wouldn’t have noticed her boredom.”

Her words don’t fall on unlistening ears and he flips his hands so they hold onto each other. He gives her a small smile, leaning in for a kiss. “Thank you. I think you might be a Drew Whisperer too.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura @rubixgsworld

[ifancyharry]

Close as strangers

Harry hurried down the hallway all the way to his room, sliding the key card against the key-reader, unlocking the door and pushing it open with his palms pressed against it.

He quickly removed his shoes, tossing them near the door, before plopping down on the hotel bed, his back against the headboard.

He fished out of his skinny jeans his phone, grimacing at the screen that read 3 missed calls from ‘Angel <3’.

He sighed as he unlocked it, typing hurriedly the number he knew by heart on the keyboard, and putting it on speaker, too tired to hold the phone to his shoulder for the call.

He waited for her to pick up as he listened to the incessant ringing of the line.

“Pick up, pick up” he whispered, biting at the skin of his thumb to suppress his sighs.

He knew he was late. And he felt like he could only imagine the disappointment YN felt when he didn’t answer her call.

He and YN had picked out a specific time throughout the day where the both of them had to be available. No matter what the other was doing, at 7 o’clock they had to answer the phone, which was a pretty understandable rule, and Harry had found it easy to comply to it at first, excusing himself to take a call or getting covered by his band mates if he couldn’t make up an excuse quickly enough. But with time, his schedule had gotten really busy.

And he sometimes missed her calls.

He wasn’t the fresh out of XFactor sixteen year old he’d been when they first started dating. He was Harry from One Direction now, and despite him feeling as the same shy guy that worked in a bakery, life around him had changed, and with it, his relationship.

He knew how she was; he knew she wasn’t answering because she was upset. And Harry really didn’t blame her, but he just didn’t find it reasonable to be upset (“stubborn little thing! — he’d say, once she had calmed down and answered the phone — It doesn’t benefit neither of us if you don’t pick up ‘cause you’re mad!”).

He rolled his eyes once the line went dead, and opened the text app instead, typing quickly with his fingers.

Baby pick up I wanna talk to you

After a couple of minutes, he wrote again: please

I miss you

And after that, he tried the line once again. This time, she picked up after five rings with a small “hello?”, her voice sounded croaky distorted from the phone.

“Hello angel. I’m sorry I didn’t answer.”

“It’s okay”, and Harry felt her sigh through the phone, “i was thinking we should push back the calls until you’re back…”

“What?”

“I know you’re pretty busy,” she said, sternly, “and I don’t want to bother you.”

“What?” Harry repeated, and once he realized he already asked that, he cleared his voice and said: “you could never be a bother”.

YN couldn’t see him but she knew he was shaking his head. She tried not to picture the frown in his brows and the pout in his face, otherwise she couldn’t possibly keep going.

“Things are different now—”

“No.” He cut her off, “don’t say that, angel. Nothing’s changed. It’s still us.”

“Harry” she softened her tone to make sure he really understood her, “it’s still us. — she nodded firmly to herself — I think it’s best if we stick to texting for now. It’s okay.”

“Okay… okay, if that’s - if that’s what you want. Okay.”

“It’s better this way” she sighed once again and Harry felt her breathing through the phone, her shaky breath loud in his ears as if it were his own.

“But we’re good, right? Tell me we’re good.”

“Yes, of course we’re good.”

Harry nodded, staying quiet as the words she’d just spoken lingered in the air between them. Despite being so far away he could almost feel her right next to him as she kept talking, unaware of the heavy weight he felt on his chest making it a little harder to breathe, the sudden realization that maybe they weren’t good after all.

Hi lovelies!!! I was cleaning my drafts and I saw this thing I wrote ages ago, based on Close as strangers by 5sos. Lmk if it’s something you’d like to read and I will publish the whole thing!

[a66-1]

I am in desperate need of some Simon fluff. My French professor is just about THE worst person I've ever encountered in my life and has entirely put me off wanting to learn a language at all. I'd appreciate it more than you can imagine 🙏🏻

Get that French teacher over here, I have a few words for them 😈😈

I'm so sorry. As my condolences here's some Simon fluff because your teachers suck in this universe

Sickenly sweet! Simon x Absolutely done with class! Reader

"Love? What's with.. The face?" Simon had peaked his head around your door, frowning when he saw such a look of discontentment written all over yours.

You turned your head, daggers ready to be thrown at anyone around you, but Simon's face made it impossible for you to do anything other than drop your resolve and tell him everything. Would you sound whiny for getting upset over a teacher? It's so elementary.

"There's.. No face, I'm just tired." you threw out an excuse, making yourself busy by digging through your bag, searching for that work that's due on Tuesdays lecture, fuck!

"You look minutes away from either A) crying or B) ending the life of someone." Simon snorted, walking into your room. Your desk had all of your French work and textbooks you have, but you can't seem to pick anything up anymore, because of that fucking professeur making learning your least favorite thing in his class.

You scowl, pulling out the work from the last lecture, "I'm.. Stressed, Simon, do you have to dig and nag right now?"

Simon looks up from your desk, before approaching you, his hand sliding into your hair. You leaned instantly, looking up at him. He smiled softly, before dropping to a kneel in front of you. "Of course I do. I can make it all better," he kissed your palm he stole from holding your work.

You smiled wearily, "lovey, I love you but I'm still busy-"

"Busy with what? Trying to learn when your all spent from class? I know how you speak of that professor." He moved your book bag away, hooking his arms around your waist, standing with you. You yelp slightly, hitting his shoulder.

"Put me down, Si-" You counter, and his softly kissed your face until you stopped asking to go back to your work. He brought you to watch the show you guys have been binge watching.

"Once you're all calmed down, you think you could go back to the work to learn?" He mumbled in you ear. You nodded.

"I'll try. Can you sit with me? I know you can't help, but.." Simon nodded anyway, and you snuggled closer.

If you were forced to learn with this man with you, you think you'd learn anything quickly.

Sgsshsshsh phone writing, of mistakes, L me bc I'm not proofreading.

Ilysm! I hope that professor finds me 😈

-a661

[cremedensada]

something in my drafts that i actually got the energy and motivation to finish. it's not really my best work but i *did* try so!! also 600+ of yall?? (⁠(⁠(⁠;⁠ꏿ⁠_⁠ꏿ⁠;⁠)⁠)⁠)

Yandere Ocean Spirit who the local sailors and fishermen tell tales of. Some say he takes the form of a charming young man talking with the grandmothers, letting himself be entertained by their tales of when they were younger.

Some say she takes the form of a beautiful young lady walking down the shore as the sun sets down the horizon, colorful gold and orange painting the sky with awe - a vision of beauty and elegance.

Some say they take the form of an individual whose beauty goes beyond genders and labels, taking a dip in the ocean - glowing moonlight behind them. Locals who saw a glimpse of them would often murmur about their long cascading hair as dark as the ocean's waves in midnight; no one truly knows where the tips of their hair ends and the ocean begins.

Yandere Ocean Spirit who, despite his contentment with life at the seaside, finds himself curious with you - a new face, a visitor, in his home.

You were staying at the seaside for the summer, spending time with your relatives per your parents' decisions. You're not all too happy with being plucked out of your comfort zone, but you suppose you might as well make it work - a chance to destress before you'll have to come back and face the reality of life's hustle and bustle, like the unforgiving ocean waves crashing against the shore, hah.

The ocean waves are inviting today - not too huge and overwhelming, but neither too placid and calm. You spend a huge chunk of your afternoon watching the waves - something so routinely was so pleasing to you.

The beautiful stranger approaches you in one of your ocean-watching ventures, a sweet smile adorning her beautiful face - asking permission to accompany you. And who are you to deny her? Not when she looks at you looking like the most breathtaking woman you've ever met in your life and you are just a human being with a huge appreciation for beauty.

"I like the ocean," she says, after a moment of silence, eyes trained on the waves, "everything in life can change - things come and go, but you can always count the ocean to be there."

You chuckle. "Even the ocean can be unforgiving, you know. Especially during storms."

"Ah," she laughs, "that, I'll have to agree... we're all victims to the whims of the weather."

You smile in agreement, and the silence that follows is pleasant and welcome - like the ocean breeze gently blowing against your skin.

The next few days you busy yourself with familiarizing around town. While running an errand for your aunt, you come across a huddle of fishermen - gazes grim.

"Looks like it's about to rain," one of them says, "can't go fishing at this weather."

You hear another fisherman let out a grunt, just as you near their huddle.

"We can't always hope for a fair weather all the time. The ocean spirit can only do so much for us common folk."

An ocean spirit? You halt in your steps unconsciously, curiosity urging you to listen more. One of the men seems to notice, and lets out a hearty laugh.

You feel yourself flush in embarrassment at being caught listening.

"Curious, eh?" he says as the others turn to you as well, wearing matching amused smiles - at the very least, they didn't look like they were mocking you. "Never heard of an ocean spirit before?"

"Spirits aren't... exactly common in the city," you find yourself responding.

They nod in understanding. "Too urbanized," one of them says - a man sporting a huge scar underneath his left cheek, "they're more powerful and stronger when they're in their natural habitats."

It's your first time hearing of the existence of such spirits. "What does the spirit look like?"

They share amused glances, like you've just asked them of an inside joke you didn't know they had. "Well it depends on how the spirit wants to look like. But you've already met her, if that's what you're asking."

Their words echo in your mind until the next day as you watch the waves once more. It crashes against the sand and washes towards your feet - you watch it retreat.

A smell of the ocean breeze creeps up on you, and you feel a presence beside you.

"Mind if I join?"

His voice is deeper this time, different from her softer lilt - the one that reminds of you of early morning rays, the calm rippling of the ocean accompanied by the glittering sunlight. His voice feels like the warm ocean water soaking you to your thighs, gently swayed by the waves moving to and fro.

You turn to meet his gaze.

"You never told me you were an ocean spirit."

Unfazed, he smiles. "You never asked... plus, I didn't intend to hide it in the first place."

You entertain him with your company - his eyes gazing at you with keen interest as you share about your life in the city.

"—and what brings you to this peaceful little town?"

"Just... vacation," you shrugged, "I'm heading back to the city after a few weeks."

He frowns, but quickly covers it up with a serene smile. "That's a shame. Can't you stay a little bit longer?"

"I'm not meant for the seaside life," you respond; and it's true. You were not born with the ocean breeze to greet you in the morning, and the sound of birds singing the days away, nor the sound of waves lapping against the shore. You were born with the hustle and bustle, the sound of heavy traffic and hurrying men and women getting to one designation to another, and the smell of smoke permeating in the air.

It can be said, yes, that you can get used to a simplistic life at the beach but could you really? Not when your subconscious mind tells you that there's more to do at home, things to finish, projects to oversee, friends to keep up with, a life that you cannot afford to upend because your comfort has already rooted in the city, and it would be foolish to uproot it in an environment that it has to get used to after it has already matured.

"Oh."

He quietens after that. The waves are audibly more harsher as they crash against the shore, thrashing and lashing even beneath clear blue skies. The ocean spirit is not mad, but it rolls off of him in the waves.

And days turn to weeks — the waves only get harsher. Fishermen stand by the shore, scowling and frowning as the rough waters force them not to travel the nasty waves. What good is their livelihood if they do not live to return anyway?

The ocean spirit is nowhere to be seen, and there's no way to bargain or to ask what's wrong — like he has just disappeared down the depths.

The day of your departure comes, bags packed and a sense of anticipation to be back home thrums in your veins. As the car rumbles to life, thunder crackles in the air and lightning strikes — a flash flood comes surging towards the shore.

Cries of surprise and fear erupted from the villagers as the waves slammed against them, like claws tightening their hold on their prey. Was this the work of their ocean spirit? The gentle soul who would listen to the grandmothers' tales of their young love and misadventures like a child listen's to a fisherman's tale of braving the storms.

Or was the ocean spirit holding themselves back all along, now only deciding to let go of their restraints and let the humans feel the full blow of the ocean without their careful watch. Humans, who have since been uses to their less than concerning storms, unfit to respond to such a devastating occurrence — too panicked and fearful to flee away to higher ground.

You watch as the waves continue to drown more and more people, and a lone figure standing on an elevated rock formation. Has it been there all along?

Your feet moved before your mind can catch up to it, wading through the waters to reach the figure. They notice your presence and, serenely, smiles at you.

"Hello," they greet, like the storm all over them is not happening at all, "wanna watch the ocean with me?"

"You need to stop," you insist instead, ignoring their invitation. "The villagers are drowning."

They merely watch, and hum. "That's a shame, isn't it?" they murmur. How can they be so cruel? No — have they been this heartless all along? What of the person who the people sing praises of? "Perhaps they should start to learn to get used to it."

You hear the wail of a mother. You can only imagine what made her cry with such devastation.

"After you've given them protection?"

"Aren't we all victims to the whims of the weather?" They hum, "then perhaps, we're all also just victims to the whims of the ocean."

"And what would change the ocean's whim right now?"

As though waiting for that inevitable question to be asked, they smiled. "For you to stay."

Another harsh wave ravages the village, and they smiles at you with a calm smile — calm as the waves of the ocean should be — as more cries and sobs, pleas for help fills your ears.

"Well? Will you stay, or will you let everyone drown?"

[afkenma]

papered love— kozume.k x g/n reader

A/N: pinch punch first day of the month no returns (started this on 1st of June)!! Hello, I’ve been struggling on who to write about next, but I think I’ll settle for the man of the movie himself, kenma!! Have you watched the movie yet? Hope everyone gets to soon. I’m retracting myself from much dialogue this time and focusing on making a reader feel what kenma’s lover is feeling, if that makes sense. enjoy :)

the only noise filling the peaceful sunset’s air rolling into the room between you and him were the pixelated sound effects of a promising tetris game he focused on clearing, and the whispering shuffles of the cards, papers and books you were allocating around in his room. you could feel your boyfriend’s back lean against your own, as you began stacking his overused notebooks into a translucent, white box. The sighs of defeat and clanking of the console as he restarted a game dissociated into a comforting nothingness that allowed you to drift into no particular thoughts, for there was nothing tugging for your attention.

then, something did. weathered, small notes began spilling out of the crevices of almost every notebook, to which you dazily disregard to your side as waste papers before you noticed the raw amount. interested, your arms clawed at a falling paper from the standard notebook in your arms, and you almost instantly brought it to your eyes to inspect it, muttering the alarmingly-careful handwriting to yourself as you read:

you could feel the body supported behind you tense up in a flinch whilst you slowly read. his head whipped around to face you, hair smacking along his cheeks with the motion. he clearly recognizes it. his stares timidly fall between your puzzled face, the confusion on papers and stationary scattered around you, and the neat assortment of all his intrusive thoughts of you, thoughts he would never be able to stand verbalizing. embarrassment was painted red on his ears as he scrambled to pick the remaining papers before you did, but you unintentionally fueled the fire burning in his cheeks when you hastily scooped them up first and began to, still confused but riddled with curiosity, read the others.

people are supposed to be difficult, so why?

your hair looks put together in that style. i want you to do that more often.

your eyes are easy to love

ill bring more cooking for you next time because i love your smiles when you eat

i saw you walking to school alone today, I’ll come with you

i wish i could do more than just think

you wish i could tell you what i think more often aswell, too.

i love you, too.

an unwavering smile spread across your face as you held your warming cheek with a tender hand, your voice slightly cracking upon the realisatlion that these small, tattered note were addressed to you. kenma nervously sits beside you with a prominent blush as his mind spins at a thousand thoughts per second, and he can’t bring his cat-like eyes to yours. incoherent muttering splatters from his lips as he begins to speak as he looks up at you but he’s interrupted by the cunning, bashful grin you wore. His eyebrows furrow and he irritatedly asks you why your smiling like that.

you laugh, a taunting yet playful giggle that breaks him out of his nervousness, akin to how your laughter always brings peace. he shyly hugs at his knees, eyes widened and slightly crinkled in a small smile as he holds himself, patiently waiting for you to finish. Soon after, you calm down and very carefully straighten the stack, lovesick eyes doting on the words he never brought himself to repeat after his embarrassing cliché confession speech.

turns out he’s thinking about you more than you thought.

[why-are-you-still-awake]

Naruto boys with a partner with anxiety

A/n: two posts in less than 24 hours!?

characters: Naruto, Sasuke, Gaara

Warning/content: mentions of panic attacks, mentions of contamination OCD.

Naruto Uzumaki

☆ Naruto would definitely be more cautious with his partner because he wouldn’t want to upset them or cause them to overthink things he’s done or said, most things he does have no rhyme or reason. However if you start overthinking something he said he’ll happily explain it and give you all the reassurance you need. ☆

☆ He doesn’t want to put you in a situation that would make your anxiety worse, for example if you don’t like public or crowded places, he’d go out of his way to make sure no one touches you or gets too close and if you need some space to calm down he’d take you to a less busy area. ☆

☆ The first time he saw you have a panic attack, he kinda panicked himself and was unsure of what to do. He’s had panic attacks himself but you’re not him, so he just awkwardly kneeled down to your level and gently rubbed your back, helping you take deep breaths. He always wants you to be comfortable and feel safe with him. ☆

Sasuke Uchiha

☆ You never liked germs, the thought of getting sick made your skin crawl, you’d always been told it really wasn’t that serious but to you it was. You had to always wash your hands before touching anything and wash them after, there have been times when you scrubbed your hands red. It was more than just the hand washing though, it was having to immediately change if someone touched your clothes. ☆

☆ Sasuke never really noticed your obsessive behavior until you moved in together, he noticed how you religiously washed your hands and cleaned everything single thing you touched, at first he thought you were just a clean freak until he saw how red your hands would be after every time you washed them. He didn’t want to bring it up but he finally decided enough was enough when your hands bled from the extreme washing. ☆

☆ There have definitely been times when you weren’t able to wash your hands and it made you panic, you were rubbing your hands together to try and get the same feeling you get from washing your hands but it wasn’t enough. You practically curled in on yourself trying to stay calm but it was no use, Sasuke noticed your behavior and carefully placed his hand on your back, not wanting to trigger you further. He opened his backpack and had hand sanitizer and gave you some, he’d started carrying it just in case something like this ever happened. Not that he’d ever admit it. ☆

Gaara

☆ He truly tries his best to avoid putting you in situations that’ll cause you to be anxious or cause a panic attack but sometimes it just doesn’t work out that way, as the kazekage he has to attend a lot of meetings that have lots of people in attendance as well so it’s often overcrowded and overstimulating. You know these type of events make you anxious but you decide to grin and bear it for your boyfriends sake. ☆

☆ When you inevitably get overwhelmed at these type of things he keeps you close to him because come hell or high water he won’t leave you alone if you start feeling like that. He’d do the small things like keeping a firm grip on your hand to make you feel safer and more secure or placing his hand on the small of your back so you don’t get separated. ☆

☆ He’s seen you have panic attacks before and it makes his heart ache every time, he doesn’t want you to feel alone during times like this but sometimes he understands that’s just what you need, time to decompress and calm down yourself. Even if it hurts to step away for a few moments he’ll do whatever he needs to help even if he’s not directly involved.☆

A/n: i hate these sm, I might just delete it later but I hope you enjoyed them. I have OCD myself but not contamination OCD specifically, so tell me if it’s not portrayed correctly. Thank you for reading, love u <33

[lawva-girl]

Jealousy

Law x fat!reader

reader is gender nuetral. :))))

WC: 1365

shout out to @sukunas-play-thing for the idea!!!! I hope you like this with my whole heart!!!!

I just know in my soul Law would go so incredibly well with a plussized person!!!!!!!

Boa Hancock. The most beautiful woman in the world. Looking at her made you feel like there wasn’t even a comparison between the two of you, she was so pretty. You were… average? It was hard to tell. 

You, along with the Heart pirates, were all staring at her in amazement. You heard the voice of her sister, warning all the men of what could happen if their sister got upset. Saying something about how she isn’t afraid to turn allies either. 

It didn’t matter, they all still looked. You wondered if it worked on women too, since Ikkaku was also staring with heart eyes. After a quick glance around, you found that Law was nowhere to be seen. 

Suddenly you were storming into his room, desperate to find him. You knew it wasn’t entirely plausible but what if he had gone off and turned to stone? You had to find him, you could probably convince Hancock to turn him back… 

You turned the corner to leave his room, when a voice scared the fuck out of you.

“What are you doing here y/n-ya?” 

Freezing in place, part of you was incredibly grateful he didn’t turn to stone, another part of you was freaking out that your beloved Law had caught you in his room. 

“Oh Law… uhm the crew was staring at Hancock again… I came to get you.” You barely got the sentence out, since you were trying to make up a reason as to why you were here that wasn’t pathetic.

“Thank you for getting me, I’ll head out there now.” 

Suddenly there was panic in your gut again, but he was already on the move to you, where the door was.   

“Law, you shouldn’t go out there! You might see her!” You turned fully towards him and decided that you would refuse to let him pass. 

“Why would that matter?” He didn’t even slow down, just opened a room and ‘shambles’ his way past you. 

You turned as quickly as you could to look at him but his hat was the only thing you saw. He was gone.

You stood for only a second before beginning to chase after him. 

Once outside, there was a peculiar scene.

The heart pirates were all sitting on their knees, head hung low. They were sitting in front of Hancock and Law, who were lecturing the group together.

Upon seeing you on the deck of the polar tang Law nodded, then went back to yelling. You stood there confused, clearly something had happened, but you felt like an outsider. 

Not a clue as to what was happening. 

Thankfully, Law decided to clue you in on what occurred later.

The two of you were sitting in the medical bay, where he was patching up a gash in your leg. It had been an eventful day to say the least. The bay itself was quiet and calm though, not showing any signs of what had occurred that day. With the exception of you and your leg of course. 

“You can’t just run around however you want y/n-ya.” Law didn’t even look up at you as he spoke, instead focusing on the stitches he was putting in your leg.

“It’s not like I wanted to fall off the Tang… my depth perception was just a bit off. Plus I would’ve been fine if the repairs Shachi was working on were finished.” You closed your eyes when you felt the pinching pain Law was administering.  

“I’ve had to yell at too many people today, can’t any of you behave?” He grumbled, making it obvious for you that he was upset. 

“I know, I’m sorry. I promise I won’t fall again. It’s not like anyone would be able to fish me out if I did.” 

“What?” 

“What?” 

Law stared at you now, you assumed he looked up in shock at one point or another. 

“What did you have to yell at the others for?” You asked him, not giving him the chance to say anything. 

Law took a deep breath, “they almost got turned to stone, Hancock caught them all staring. Thankfully she wasn’t upset, since we had helped Luffy.” 

“Oh that’s good…” you laid back fully, closing your eyes. You had always worked as a somewhat friend to Law, hearing him rant and complain. It made you happy to have a use. It made you especially happy to have Law need you, despite knowing that you didn’t have a chance with him.

Law didn’t speak much in general, so if you wanted to know you kinda had to pry. You wanted to know so badly how he ended up lecturing beside Hancock, but you also did not want to know at all. 

“So.. you weren’t staring with them?” You felt your heart quicken, but you didn’t say anything to take it back. 

Law coughed a bit, then explained, “No. she’s pretty but I’m not… attracted to her.” 

“Why not? She’s beautiful and she has the perfect body! Plus her hair is perfect and she’s so skinny, anyone could fish her out of water.” You spoke the words before you even realized it, feeling the consequences seconds later when Law hesitated to respond.

“I don’t like…” he paused and smiled into an evil smirk, like it was second nature, “I prefer women who have something I can hold onto.” 

You sat up with eyes wide in shock, and mouth agape. “But…” 

“What? I’m not allowed?” Law looked at you now, and you could swear there was something in his eyes. Something that you could get extremely familiar with. 

While you remained there speechless, Law finished on your leg. As he smoothed the bandages over the slice, you stared at his hands. 

“I’m done. Just make sure you take it easy for 3 days, unless you want it to reopen.” Law stood, turning swiftly and started to clean his tools and pack his equipment. 

“You don’t like Hancock at all?” You called out from the hospital bed.

“No. I like people with something to hold onto. Like you.” Law turned slightly, you could just barely see his face enough to tell he was being serious.

“Oh! Uhm!”

“I like people who have soft thighs I can use as pillows, people who have a belly for me to grab while spooning, people that have a butt and love handles. I like to grab them and watch…” 

Your eyes were wide, unsure of why he was telling you this and why he wouldn’t stop. 

“I like people who have meat on their bones. Plus when a person like that is drowning, only a real man can save them. I can lift you, and I can lift you when you're soaked too.” 

“Law I.. why are you,” you couldn’t think of the words you wanted to use, until Law interrupted.

“Why would I tell you?” You nodded fervently, “I’m telling you because I hope you’ll do something about it.” 

You stared at him, he seemed so far from you. He wasn’t at all but you felt weird trying to stand on your leg that was freshly patched. So you motioned for him to come over to you with your hand. 

“Why?” He was walking over as he spoke. 

“I have to tell you something..” you motioned for him to come closer, so he did. 

You again motioned for him to come closer, and he rolled his eyes but did again.

You leaned forward and closed the gap between you two, whispering to him “my type in men.. its men who are named Law.” 

He turned his head towards yours in shock, and you chuckled. He took the opportunity of the proximity and pressed his lips to yours. Your chuckle died in your throat, as you pressed back into him. 

It felt like magic. His lips were soft, and soo warm. You were convinced such a cold steely man would have a matching body. 

Then you realized, all this time. Law wasn’t cold, he was just caring in a different way. He had answered every question you had. He never put you down, and he seemed to like you the way you are. 

[jasmines-library]

Could you do a Winchester sister fic about her having a bad asthma attack and not being able to breathe and the boys get all scared

Breathe

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Note: First off i want to apologise for taking forever to write this. or anything. but we're back!

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Asthma attack.

Honestly not too sure how I feel about this one….but it’s my first time writing in weeks so pls bear with.

⛧ SPN MASTERLIST ⛧

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Your fist collided with the Demon’s face as you swung around to face her. If the insistent throbbing in your hand wasn’t an indicator of how hard you had hit her, the stream of dark droplets falling from her nose, and the grunt she made as she went careening sideways were. She bounced back quickly though. Much quicker than you would have liked. She scowled, her black eyes narrowing as you swung a fist back in retaliation forcing you to lean back uncomfortably on your heels. You heard a clatter to your left as an array of cutlery went flying across the floor as Sam managed to tackle the demon he was dealing with. The woman in front of you glared at you with malice as she heard her counterpart go down. With a little shrug, and a petty smirk, you continued to dance around her, trying to get a good stab at her with your angel blade. 

When you heard Dean breathe out a sigh of relief as he managed to deal with the latter of the ones he had been fighting, you didn’t allow yourself to get distracted and keep your focus on her. Distraction is a hunters number one enemy. But you can feel yourself getting tired. You can feel the burn in your muscles and the ache in your lungs as it grows harder and harder to suck air into them. 

But then she made a mistake: She twisted to the side, raising her arm to swing a left hook, but left her right side open. It gave you the perfect opportunity, and you plunged the demon knife into her. She lit up in a spark of yellow before falling to the ground. 

It was straight after that that everything sort of…hit you. Now that you weren’t focused on ‘not-dying’, the tightness in your chest was more noticeable. And that made you panic. And of course, that made everything much worse. Clutching one hand to your chest and the other against the wall, you tried to get in another breath, only for it to feel as though it had been cut short. When Sam came through the door, his self-accomplished grin was cut short as he saw you struggling to breathe. 

“Hey, Hey.” Sam rushed over to you, his hand resting on your shoulder as you looked up at him, wide-eyes and breathing in short, frantic gasps. “Hey. Calm down. You’re fine. Breathe”

You try to listen to Sam. Try to get your lungs to open up and to breathe normally. But they are stubborn and seem to do the exact opposite. 

Sam’s heart seems to break a little when you look up at him. “Where’s your inhaler?”

You blink. Your chest heaves. “Car-”

Your older brother curses mentally, and you think that he calls out to Dean, because he’s rounding the corner one second and is hovering above you the next. 

“Dean…her inhaler. It’s in the car. Side pocket.” Sam tells his older brother, his tone firm and authoritative. Dean nodding, his hair falling over his eyes as he scrambles back out of the house, swerving around the fallen demons to get to the car as quickly as he can.

Sam’s hands remain on your shoulders. His large hands take up most of your shoulder as they rest on the coloured flannel of your shirt. They’re calloused and rough, but seem to act almost as a safety blanket keeping you grounded. He shifts one of them to your chin, pinching it gently between his thumb and his index finger as he lifts up your chin. His irises seem to shift in the light as he gets you to look at him. Hazel brown, then green and back to hazel again. They’re glossy, concerned, but hold a sense of ease. Protectiveness. 

“You’re okay, Kiddo. Just breathe. Dean will be back any second now.” Sam reassures, although he is unsure if he’s trying to reassure you or himself more. He’s panicking. And, he's beginning to grow antsy because Dean has yet to return from the car which he parked so impossibly far away. Damn stealth. 

An impossible amount of time later less than a minute Dean comes skidding to a halt, inhaler in hand. Dean has already shaken it and removed the cap, so he fumbles around to get it in your hand. Once your fingers wrap around the plastic your brain goes into autopilot. The plastic is quickly brought to your lips and the medicine pumped into your lungs as you inhale deeply. It doesn’t take long for the medicine to work its magic. You feel the burn in your lungs subside slightly, and a flood of air comes rushing into your lungs as you breathe deeply, leaning against the wall as you collect yourself, taking a moment to yourself. 

Dean raises a hand towards you, brushing the hair out of your face. “You okay sweetheart?”

“I……” You take another deep breath. “Yea. sorry.”

“No need to apologise, kid.” Dean says “As long as you’re alright.”

“I’m fine.” you say, taking one last puff of the inhaler before replacing the cap and securing it in your pocket. 

“You have seriously got to start remembering to bring that with you.” Sam reprimands, always the sensible one.

You sigh. “I know. But it’s so annoying to carry around.”

“We know it is, sweetheart, but you kind of need it”

“I know…..”

“So you’ll bring it with you?”

“No promises.”

Dean pinches the bridge of his nose. He swears you give him more and more grey hairs everyday. You just grin up at him and he can’t help but shake his head affectionately at your stubbornness.

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

SPN TAGS:

@defonotashleyr @aestheticdaisies @xxrougefangxx

@hell-o-kittys @inlovewhithafairytale @harleycao

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[theladyofbloodshed]

Chapter 26 - You're The Closest To Heaven I'll Ever Be

‘I don’t want to be here,’ Nesta hissed as Azriel settled her onto the ground.

The waist high grasses and its wild flowers had been trimmed down to the ankles and night had swept into Illyria leaving a star-flecked sky above their heads.

‘Where would you rather be?’ He gestured at the vast expanse of wilderness behind them, voice taut with barely contained rage. ‘Back there? The House of Wind? Where, Nesta?’

His chest rose and fell rapidly reminding her of a cat that readied itself to lash out. She wrapped her arms around herself.

This was not the Azriel she knew. He was a spymaster. Calm and collected. Unruffled. Yet Nesta had made him run out of the patience that seemed never-ending. Guilt swelled in her chest. There were only so many times people could take being pushed away. She ran the risk of losing him – and that scared her more than she wanted to admit.

At the same moment that she took a hesitant step forward, Azriel’s expression softened. ‘It’s colder here than Dawn, even in spring. Take a hot drink with my mother.’

Peace had been brokered unexpectedly. She allowed his fingers to slip down her back as he guided her towards the front of the cabin. The lights were still on in the windows downstairs so it was not too late, she expected.

Rovena opened the door, her hair unbound and flowing freely to her waist. Whatever she read in their expressions had her opening her arms to receive both of them. They were pulled into a shared embrace so all three bodies knocked together.

‘It’s so nice to see you both. I was thinking of you earlier.’

‘Are you a seer?’

Azriel’s mother smiled as she led her into the house, leaving her son to close the door. ‘No, just a mother who misses her son. I hoped he would bring you to see me soon.’

There was something about the closeness of her body – the softness of it – that had Nesta sinking deeper. Rovena stroked a hand against her hair which had been roughened by her impromptu sleep. ‘Have you eaten? Let’s find something for you.’

Nesta nodded, trying to push away tears. She had always known the sort of mother that she would be and that was the opposite of her own. She’d give her child love and comfort, praise and celebrate the smallest milestones, and never ever use them. But Nesta hadn’t realised how badly she needed that mother for herself too. Even if Rovena had been in the middle of another task, tending to Nesta’s needs had pulsed to the forefront.

They ate sticky layered pastries that seeped with honey and were drizzled with nuts on the top over a pot of strong, black tea. Rovena had insisted upon wrapping a blanket around Nesta’s shoulders then tugging off her shoes and lifting her feet up onto the couch.

‘A bad day for both of you?’

‘How did you guess?’

Rovena gave a smile of understanding as she turned back to her knitting. ‘Azriel only comes home when he feels guilty that he’s been away so long or if he needs a break from everything. Today, it’s a mixture of the two.’

‘I will tell him to visit more often.’

‘With you?’

Nesta swallowed. They were only two words, but there was a heavy question loaded within. Rovena knew they were mates. Knew the significance of their situation.

She focused on the cup in her hands, examining the pattern etched into the pottery. What was there to kick out and complain over? Azriel was a good male. He was patient and kind with a dry humour that she wished she saw more often. There was nothing wrong with him. None of her dissatisfaction came from him. It was the lack of choice. The life that she’d been forced into. And if she could turn back time – then what? She would still be mortal and he would still bond to her. His heart would still point to her. He’d have the agony of watching her grow old and die while he remained young. What life would she have had? There would be a mortal husband at her side who expected many children and little else from her.

‘It’s so hard,’ she whispered. ‘I keep wanting to go home but I don’t think I’ve ever had a real home.’

Rovena paused from her knitting. ‘I am biased,’ she said, touching a hand to her chest, ‘because he is the most wonderful thing in my life. My son is not like the others. He will be walking loops around this house, bullying himself for whatever has occurred today. He will never think to fly when it’s in an Illyrian’s nature to do so. Legend says Ramiel could fly before he could walk. Azriel’s early years were not good. Not kind.’ She was quiet for a while as if waiting for a spark of recognition from Nesta that she knew his upbringing. Azriel was often a closed book. She knew little of his past. ‘Azriel carries the weight heavily. He won’t ever put it down.’

‘He hasn’t done anything wrong,’ explained Nesta. ‘He is the best part of my days.’

‘Have you told him that?’

No. To lay her feelings bare that way left them open to be hurt. It wasn’t fair to offer him hope when she didn’t know whether she’d have the bond severed at the Blood Moon.

‘I am not trying to influence you in anyway, Nesta. You have had too many choices taken away from you. My son has also suffered greatly in his life. He is not a daemati; he cannot read your thoughts. He will only know what you tell him.’

For a while, Nesta lay there with her eyes closed. She was unashamed to do it. Rovena had abandoned her knitting entirely and stroked a hand against her hair. It was tempting to accept the bond so she could see Rovena whenever she wished. She wanted a mother so badly.

Azriel entered with damp hair from the drizzle that had started. He gave a nod of satisfaction at the sight of them relaxing together.

‘I will go to bed,’ announced Rovena. Nesta stood to embrace her. She didn’t want it to end.  Rovena squeezed her tightly. ‘Come and visit soon, please. I want to know you better.’

‘You don’t.’

She stroked Nesta’s cheek. ‘I do. I really do, Nesta.’

Left alone with Azriel, Nesta wanted to bury her head beneath the blanket that she’d discarded on the couch rather than have this discussion. She didn’t even know why he’d brought her here. Maybe to chastise her about speaking to his precious Rhysand that way.

She folded her arms again, bracing herself for whatever storm he’d bring.

‘Who was Clare? Your friend. Who was she?’

His words were not laced with interrogation. They were tender, like a healer examining a wound.

‘My only friend,’ she rasped. ‘With money. Without it. Clare was-’

Nesta pressed her hands against her face.

Says the woman who gave an innocent girl’s name in her stead for Amarantha to butcher as well.

Whatever ending that Clare had found, it had not been good. If Beron Vanserra had not brought her up, Nesta would have been none the wiser. Clare would always be a ghost that trailed her, demanding that Nesta did not forget her. Now that she knew the truth of it, it made nothing easier. The closure brought no healing.

‘I never asked Rhys directly about those years. We do what we must to protect others. More and more, I’m learning that there were no limits to who he’d hurt to protect us in Velaris.’ Azriel forced out a bitter laugh. ‘My fault. A spymaster should know better than to pull at loose threads that a High Lord tries to cut away.’

Nesta did not understand his cryptic words.

‘Maybe we should sever the bond.’

Air caught in her lungs.

‘What?’

‘I’ve heard things. Whispers from that time beneath the mountain. I didn’t want to believe them. I heard her name – Clare – heard that he’d given a fake mortal name to Amarantha. Not that she was real. That her family had suffered too.’

Nesta did not dare to interrupt him.

‘Rhys hurt Feyre. Night after night.’ Azriel shook his head. ‘I told myself that Rhys wouldn’t do that. That’s his mate. He loves her. Those whispers were tainted – but now I know them to be true. Neither will speak of those days and I thought it was because they suffered too much. It’s because they don’t want us to know what happened between them. Did Feyre truly forgive his actions or is there no limit that can be crossed due to the bond? The bond will always pull them together, will always make them forgive and forget.’ His hazel eyes scorched her as he met her gaze. ‘What if I’m like that?’

‘You won’t be like that,’ she vowed.

Azriel shook his head. ‘I saw you. The meeting. Saw how scared you were when I… Eris.’

‘You think I’m afraid of you? Azriel, I had never seen anything like that before – but I’m not scared of you. Eris was out of line. And knowing that you’d damn all the consequences to protect somebody you care about, it matters to me.’

Her hand reached for his. She sensed his instinct to draw it away, to shield it from her view, but still she reached for him, practically pleading with her eyes to not reject her this way. His fingers slid over her skin.

'It scares me,’ Azriel admitted, turning Nesta’s hand over to trace the lines of her palm. ‘I’ve been at Rhys’ side for over five hundred years but I was so ready to jump to your side. If you had said the word, I’d have avenged your pain.’

Nesta did not have to think so deeply to understand his meaning. He’d have been at her side no matter what. That's what mates did for each other.

‘Cass knew,’ he continued. ‘He saw my hand go to Truth-Teller then called your name. It made you pause - and me.’

‘Is that fear too much?’

‘No,’ he promised, voice ardent. ‘It just scares me because I don’t think there’s a limit for me either of what I’d do for you.’

Those words hung heavy between them. It hadn’t been anger that had made Azriel fly her here at all, she realised. It had been such sorrow and shame for his actions in the meeting, his fear that he’d pushed her away. His black hair was falling into his eyes as he kept his head tilted downwards. It was a face that Nesta could gaze upon for days at a time without ever growing weary.

‘I want to try.’

Azriel glanced sidelong at her. ‘What does it mean? You want to try. What does it mean?’

Maybe like her, Azriel needed those declarations. It was scary and overwhelming to put it into words. Scarier still to put it into practise. But he was worth it, wasn’t he? Worth exposing her fears and stepping into the light for.

‘I’m not ready for everybody to know – not yet. You are not a secret. I’m not ashamed of you,’ she managed to stutter out. ‘Don’t think for a moment that I am. It’s just-’

‘You are a private person.’

‘Yes,’ she said, glad he understood. ‘We can try to be… together. In private. I don’t know how fae courtship rituals play out.’

‘Can I kiss you?’

The words shot out of him suddenly as if they could no longer be contained.

‘Can you kiss me?’ She echoed, breathing heavily. ‘Can you kiss me?’

Azriel waited. He’d only take as much as she offered.

‘Yes.’

The shadow singer moved closer, tilting his head and pressing his lips to hers. It was a scorching undoing. His hand settled on her side, the other cradling her face to lift it where he wanted it. Nesta breathed in the scent of chilled mist and pine from his skin. He was so gentle with her. When he brushed his tongue against the seam of her lips, she parted them, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

He pulled back slightly, lips brushing her own as he said, ‘Are you alright?’

‘Yes.’

His nose touched hers, rubbing it softly before kissing her gently once more. ‘You’re frozen.’

Nesta swallowed, well aware that she had been afraid to move a single inch. Her hands were clenched at her sides and her back was poker-straight.

‘I haven’t had a lot of experience.’ By that, Nesta meant the sum total of her kisses was at two. A playful sweep of the lips by Clare, after which they’d dissolved into giggles, and a horrible experience where Tomas Mandray had been too forceful and rough that resulted in her crunching her forehead against his nose.

Azriel drew back, blinking a couple of times as he connected the dots. Realisation dawned on him. ‘Oh.’

‘Oh?’

His hand smoothed her hair against her head. ‘I hadn’t considered that aspect. Not entirely. Young and mortal. Unwed.’

‘It’s bad?’

‘No. Everything is at your pace.’

Nesta felt greedy to even ask it. ‘Can we kiss again?’

‘We can kiss until every star in the sky fades if that is what you wish.’

***

A kiss from Nesta Archeron was better than anything Azriel could dream of. He wished he could bottle this moment to savour for later. He had to be careful with her. Instinct demanded that he be rough to take what was his. Years of one-night lovers meant he had perfected every skill to leave them dreaming of him after he left, but the more tender moments – the intimacy – was something he’d always struggled with.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

It blared in his ears. Nesta would not pull away. She would not run from him once she saw what he was inside. Mates understood.

Her years were few, experience non-existent. Azriel could not fuck this up. She meant far too much to lose.

What was a spymaster, if not patient?

When he ended their kiss, Azriel was hollow afterwards like Nesta had taken her heart with her.

‘Shall I take you back to Dawn?’

Nesta weighed up her options. It had her brows furrowing. ‘I can’t. Not yet. I can’t see them. Can’t we go in the morning – spin a lie that I was too uneasy in a new place?’

He touched her hair once then was amazed she allowed such a thing. ‘The Town House then. It’s not too late. Perhaps Elain is still awake.’

He extended his ruined hand to her. It was a declaration that he wanted to try too. Azriel would be as he was, scarred hands and all. It made him vulnerable, which he hated – but for Nesta he would try.

‘Can we stay here?’

Illyria? Did she mean it?

Azriel caught the bob of her throat, her nerves rising at the suggestion.

‘Do you have a bedroom here?’

He had to pause and force himself to breathe before he passed out. Nesta wanted to stay in Illyria. With him. In the same bed.

Silently, he flexed his fingers to signal to Nesta to take them then he led her through the living room, into the kitchen, past the pantry and into the small bedroom at the end of the house.

‘It’s down here so I don’t wake my mother when I come and go.’

‘Do you come and go often?’

There was no teasing on her lovely face, no realisation of the innuendo that she’d walked into. Yes, all of Azriel’s previous dalliances could be described as coming and going. He never spent the night with a lover. It was too much, too intimate. He never wanted the awkward dance in the morning, the lies that they’d see each other again. Once people realised who he was – what he was – they never wanted another moment with him. But that wasn’t what Nesta meant. She was too innocent to realise.

‘I come here more than the others think I do. Less than my mother wants me to,’ he replied vaguely. Those sorts of answers wouldn’t fly. They weren’t fair on her. ‘She’d have me here every night if she could to make up on a lost childhood together. The others think I’m out in pleasure houses or with lovers or spying and I let them believe what they want.’

‘But really you come home to your mother.’   

He gave a guilty grin. ‘She’s a good cook.’

The room was not particularly large because most of his possessions remained in Velaris. One day, Azriel would tell Nesta the truth of his childhood – how it made him the way he was. Illyria was like a boot stepping on his throat, but this small pocket of paradise that his mother had cultivated was the one place he could breathe without hiding parts of himself. One day, he’d tell her everything. Azriel searched through the wide oak dresser for softer clothes for bed. Although Nesta was tall for a female, her frame was slight. Any bottoms he had would slip off of her. For her, he found a tunic gifted from Helion when they visited the Day Court years earlier. It was a garish gold, but it was the only thing he had that would reach Nesta’s knees.

‘You? Gold?’

‘Helion,’ he replied, as if that said it all.

‘What is wrong with him?’

Azriel paused from searching for his own clothes. There was nothing wrong with Helion except for his over-zealous affection. Everybody liked him. He won friends with smiles. Rhys had needed to tell Azriel to stop spying on him and the court when nothing insidious was ever found about him. ‘What do you mean?’

‘When he wasn’t staring at me like I was his next meal, he couldn’t take his eyes off of Eris’ mother.’

He shrugged one shoulder and began stripping for bed.

‘Come on,’ Nesta said, voice tinged with something like amazement. ‘You must know what I mean.’

Azriel turned and caught a glimpse of Nesta’s bare back as she changed facing the wall. Shadows jumped up in front of his face, blocking her – much to his dismay.

‘I don’t know what you mean, Nesta.’

‘Doesn’t he look like…' She stopped short. 'You don’t know? You haven’t ever noticed?’

Who was the spymaster – him or her? Nesta refused to elaborate on her cryptic words, instead she insisted that he forgot she ever said anything.

He heard the creak of the bed as she eased herself into it. It was large to accommodate the sprawl of his wings comfortably, but Azriel was determined to find a way to be close with her. I want to try, she’d said. If only she knew that Azriel had never done this before either. He had never climbed into bed with a female and only wanted to sleep beside her.

It was easier in the dark. After the lamp was extinguished, he moved closer to Nesta. When she didn’t object to his arms eclipsing her body, he took it as a good sign.

‘What will we tell the others?’

‘I’ll handle it,’ he reassured her. They were his nosy family to deal with.

Near his feet, Azriel could feel the press of his shadows as they curled up like a dog at the bottom of the bed. His mother’s room was upstairs at the other side of the house and Nesta was in his arms. There was nothing more he could ask for in life. This was what he had been waiting for. Every year that passed where his heart ached with loneliness had been leading up to this. And it was all worth it.

‘Will you kiss me again?’

His eyes shot open. Who was he to resist such a request?

Feeling bolder in the dark, Nesta’s arms twined around his neck as they kissed. Each one was special. One more than he ever thought to have. The press of her lips to his stoked a fire in his belly. This slow, smouldering undoing was the best thing to happen to him.

They moved on the bed with Nesta tugging him down to her like her restraint had snapped. His chest pressed to hers, the softness of her breasts beneath him was like nothing he had ever experienced before. Her heart sung to his. Each soft murmur from Nesta had his cock hardening. It pressed against her, solid and unyielding. Did she know what she did to him? He rolled his hips once, testing. The rub of his cock against her thigh had Nesta giving up of a breathy moan.

A shadow stung him on the neck in warning not to get too carried away. It didn’t need to all happen tonight. Nesta wanted to try with him; they had time.

Azriel eased back onto his side, his weight resting upon an elbow. He kissed her forehead gently. ‘Goodnight Nesta.’

She lay on her back, panting for a moment.

‘What? That’s it? You’ll just kiss me like that and say goodnight?’

Azriel chuckled. ‘What else do you want?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t know what I can have.’

He brought her hand to her lips then kissed the knuckles. ‘Anything.’

With her sudden burst of bravery spent, Azriel took the lead. When he rolled back on top of her, Nesta gave an answering moan of satisfaction. Her tongue sought his, more desperate than their earlier kisses. His hand went to her breast, squeezing it softly until he felt her nipple harden beneath. There was so much of her that Azriel wanted to touch, to taste. He had to be patient – even if it was the hardest fucking thing he’d ever done. His cock ached. Each whimper from Nesta had it throbbing in response. One day, she’d have her mouth around it. One day, he’d take her hard and fast with it. Tonight, he’d be patient.

‘Will you touch me?’

His hand skated down her body. As his fingers brushed her stomach, Nesta inhaled a fluttery breath. He touched her sex over the cloth.

‘Here?’

Nesta’s hips rose up in response, but Azriel needed confirmation.

‘Say it.’

‘Yes,’ she breathed. ‘Touch me.’

He found her wet and ready. The slick heat of her cunt was a summons too difficult to ignore. He traced a finger through her folds, parting them gently. All the while, he kept kissing her. Nesta’s moans were muffled by his lips. Each circle of his thumb against her clit had her writhing beneath him. Had she touched herself before, he wondered. Did she know the ways to make her body tremble and shake? Azriel pressed himself against her again, so that his cock rubbed against her thigh to give it a slight release. The cloth of his trousers was driving him mad. The need to taste her, to plunge his cock deep inside her cunt was bellowing in his mind.

Patient. He had to be patient.

It would hurt her to press his fingers inside despite his desperation to feel her tight walls clenching around them.

They had time. She wanted to try. He didn’t need to rush in and take it all tonight.

Azriel kept on kissing his mate, savouring the wetness that seeped from her with every kiss. His thumb worked in small circles until her body went taut. With a more forceful hand, Azriel guided Nesta over the edge – and kept on kissing her as she jerked and moaned beneath him, wringing out every last drop of her pleasure.

He blew across her skin when Nesta had finished to cool the heat burning there then he held her close. She snuggled against him, satisfied and spent. Pride swelled in his chest knowing he was the first male to bring her that release – and hopefully the only male that would ever get to touch her that way.

When her breathing slowed to a heavy rhythm, Azriel lay his head beside hers and closed his eyes, content and happy for the first time in a long time.  

The dawn brought showers with it to Illyria. The soft pattering of rain against the glass woke them both. They did not speak of what had occurred last night although he felt Nesta’s eyes on him often as he dressed. He hoped it wasn’t regret.

With his mother still sleeping, Azriel wrote a note to explain that they’d departed. Nesta had to write at the bottom that they’d return again soon which had him smiling and drawing her to him to kiss again.

‘Are you ready to continue the meeting?’

‘Not really, but we must do these things,’ she replied, nodding once.

It was dry in the Dawn Court. The hazy sun was touching the land with its golden fingers.

Cassian jumped up from the couch when they exited the bedroom. ‘Thank fuck. They’ve all gone to breakfast. I said you two had gotten up early and gone for a walk. Where have you been? I went to get my things to sleep on the couch and you were gone. Both of you.’

‘We were busy,’ replied Azriel flatly.

‘Doing what?’

‘None of your business,’ Nesta snapped, eyes flaring in warning at him.

To anybody else, it might have been effective. To Cassian, it was the equivalent of waving a red flag at a bull. He would make it his business to know.

On their hurried walk down to breakfast, Cassian kept trying to catch his eye, fishing for information. Azriel played dumb. Acted as though he couldn’t see the inquisitive looks his brother was casting his way even though Cassian had covered for them. He'd lied and said that they'd both slept on couches so Nesta could have the room. He'd owe him for that.

Each court had assembled at their own table for breakfast with the exception of Spring and Autumn who had not returned. Helion was at their table, an arm draped around the back of Feyre’s chair to annoy Rhys. Their conversation halted as they arrived. Azriel pulled out a chair for Nesta then tucked her in before taking up the one beside her so that Cassian could not.

Mor leaned forwards, her blonde hair tossed over one shoulder. ‘Gone for a walk? Either Thesan needs better guards or somebody is lying.’

An accusation that Azriel didn’t like laced Mor’s tone. Was it jealousy that he could detect? She’d gone to bed with Helion – but she had the audacity to be jealous that Azriel hadn’t waited outside of her door all night.

‘We were in Illyria,’ Nesta replied swiftly, helping herself to a jug of milk to pour a glass.

That wasn't part of their plan.

Rhys choked on his scrambled eggs at the other end of the table. ‘You took Nesta to Windhaven?’

Azriel glanced to Nesta, waiting to see if he should lead or her. Her wrist snapped downwards, opening a serviette with a practised gesture before spreading it across her lap.

‘No. I was upset. He took me to spend time with his mother. Can you pass the toast, Feyre?’

‘You took her to your mother?’

The room went suddenly quiet at Mor’s raised voice.

Nesta buttered her toast with more aggression than was warranted. ‘Do you have an issue with that, Morrigan?’

If this ferocious, possessive side of Nesta was what happened each time Azriel gave her an orgasm, she was having them five times a day. He quite liked it.

Mor looked to him. She seemed betrayed. Like Azriel had no right to take somebody to his own mother’s home.

‘You never take anybody there. Not even me.’

‘My mother wanted to meet Nesta,’ he said, shrugging off the looks of the others around the table.

‘I didn’t want to be here,’ added Nesta. ‘It seemed like a good time to go. Would you like toast, Azriel?’

They eventually slipped back into their conversation although Mor’s eyes kept darting between them like there was a secret she wasn’t privy to, but needed to know. He felt Cassian’s boot kick him in the shin then his brother was wiggling his brows up and down. Azriel ignored it all. Last night had been the best night of his life and all that mattered to him was that Nesta was happy. They’d face today’s meeting – face whatever the hell was coming next. As long as Nesta wanted to try with him, they would face anything.  

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Ok, just listen to me

what about another Sinner Adam deal au, only this time is a little different…

inspired by a past post of yours I saw

Adam comes back he used to be an alpha but is now an omega. For his full protection Lucifer will give not only that but as well as to let Adam live his afterlife in Hell in complete comfort.

All Adam has to do now is…to give him babies, to be basically a breeding mare

Adam blinked owlishly at the King in front of him. Did he hear him right? "Can you fucking repeat that?"

Lucifer rolled his eyes, he knew Adam heard what he said. "What's the big deal? You'll be safe, live in the lap of luxury, and you'll be getting laid on the regular."

"Except I'm not just getting laid, you want me to be your fucking baby factory." Adam snarled. "Why would you even want to?"

Lucifer looked Adam up and down as if undressing him with his eyes. He had a thing for the first humans fucking sue him. "I've always wanted more kids than Charlie. Don't get me wrong, I love her to death. But Lilith was cursed to never have kids and if she did they would die at birth. Charlie was lucky. But you...." Lucifer gave Adam a feral smile that sent a shiver down the new sinners spine. "You were blessed to be super fertile and have lots of kids."

Adam frowned. "I thought sinners couldn't have kids?"

"But you're no mere sinner are you, Adam? You're special, you always have been." He knew the praise would go to Adams head. "Besides, you really think anyone out there is going to stop if you tell them it hurts? Take care of you when you inevitably end up pregnant? No." The thought of anyone else fucking Adam made his blood boil.

Adam knew this was his best bet, he just hated that it was his best bet. Lucifer was right, he would only know suffering on the streets of Hell. He looked at the golden floating paper, it was waiting for him to sign it.

Reluctantly, Adam grabbed the pen and slowly signed his name on the dotted line, literally selling his life away. Golden chains appeared around his neck, they led to Lucifer's hand where he was holding the end.

Lucifer let them disappear. "Good, now." He pushed Adam back on the bed, when did they get to a bedroom!? Adam felt panic hit him at how much he fucked up. "Relax."

"Relax!? Why don't you-" The words died in his throat when he smelled something, something that instantly calmed Adams nerves making him almost docile. "You...."

"Relax darling and trust me. Now." Lucifer placed his hands on Adams knees and spread his legs wide open. "It's time to fulfill your end of the deal."

[siriuslynephilim]

bestie is coming home on 1st im having thoughts

[chososdiscordkitten]

Baby Fever?!

Synopsis: JJk men/reader have baby fever ≽^•⩊•^≼

Includes: 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨, 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢, 𝐍𝐚𝐨𝐲𝐚, 𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐨, 𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢, 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐚, 𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 Content: afab!reader, topics of pregnancy, marriage, breeding, and having children. mostly nsfw (sorry anon) (a.n) Jesus my page has been full of baby fever nd marriage recently.

Dedicated to; this ask.

MDNI

Satoru Gojo

Ever since you first became official- Gojo had this little habit of asking to give you a baby. You always shook him off, telling him ‘no’ because it was far too soon and you were too young to start having children. 

Birth control became a necessity because of the little need he had to finish inside of you.

On one occasion of him asking the incessant question- you leaned in real close to his ear, “I will impregnate you.” you whispered.

This unlocked a whole other can of worms in Satoru’s mind. The urge to breed you was strong, but that little promise lit a fire in his soul. 

But one day, while out on a date- walking down an empty street, a child no older than 7 or 8 ran up to Satoru, Tears staining his cheeks and asking for his mom. 

Though you hardly saw Satoru interact with children in your daily life, you could see his demeanor change from a normal playful one to a more serious and authoritative one.

Crouching down to the child’s height and asking where he last saw his mom and his name—all with calm. 

You watched the little interaction unfold before you with wide eyes- the thought that Gojo was too immature to be a father completely being thrown from your mind as Satoru stood up straight and held the child’s hand in his. Guiding him back to where the child last saw his mom and reuniting the stressed mom and the crying child.

After that, more and more little instances Satoru did, made you start contemplating his little offer of giving you a child. 

Whenever you’d go shopping with him, you’d always pretend to accidentally stumble across the baby aisle.

Gojo perked a brow, watching your eyes admire the little socks attached to the onside in your hands. 

Corner of his lip curled up with a soft giggle, stepping over to you and whispering- “You’re actually considering having a kid?” he teased watching you furrow your eyebrows and hang the little onesie back on the rack. 

You shoved him with your elbow, scoffing and making a mental note to never bring this up again. 

That night, you were scrolling on your phone- watching any video that popped up of a chunky baby with a soft expression. 

Satoru was beside you, focused on his phone, but the sound of a child’s laughter made him look over at you with furrowed eyebrows- peeking over to your phone and watching the tiktok you were looking at. 

Some video of a mom showing their child’s massive hair bows- he was about to laugh at how silly the baby looked. Only he scanned your expression and got a hint as to why you hadn’t scrolled yet. 

Satoru rolled atop you, resting his head on your sternum and urging you to put your phone down. 

Holding his head in your hands- “I can give you a baby if you want one so bad~” he teased, causing you to furrow your eyebrows. 

Parting your lips with a soft gasp, “Satoru Gojo!” you feigned shock, whispering, “A child out of wedlock? What would the clan think?” you teased, mushing his cheeks together as he rolled his eyes. 

Pulling your hands from his cheeks and hoisting himself up- face to face as he placed a hand between your thighs, urging you to open them. 

Placing a kiss on your lips with a smile- “I am the clan.” he scoffed smugly. 

Toji Zenin

It all started with one little sentence he littered during intercourse, legs bent to your chest, and Toji pounding into you like his life depended on it. 

Something along the lines of, “Gonna breed this perfect pussy-” in a low husky tone. It was muttered- like his internal thoughts seeped from his lips without permission. 

But the words stayed in your mind- long after you had cleaned off his copious mess from your center. Even as Toji was snoring next to you- you stayed up thinking about the words he had muttered into the air. 

They made you squint thinking about the possibility of it. Questions you wish Toji was awake to ask him. 

Rare were the times he would sprinkle dirty talk during sex. But the way he said it, it wasn’t meant to be heard as dirty talk. The way it sounded was he spoke it as a proclamation. 

The next morning, when Toji woke up to your face pressed against his chest. Feeling your eyes watch him sleep, he woke up asking you what you needed. 

“You want to-” air caught in your throat, recalling what he said. “..breed me?” you whispered, looking at his hazy eyes and furrowed brow. 

Corner of his lip curled, “Where’d you get that idea?” he scoffed, closing his eyes and pretending not to feel your harsh gaze on his skin. 

“From you- you said it last night.”

Toji nodded ‘no’. As though the idea of him saying that was impossible. 

“Yes, you did- I heard you.” watching Toji’s smug face nod ‘no’ again. 

“You can’t gaslight me Toji- I heard you.” Your determination amused the man- feeling his chest rise in a half laugh against your cheek. 

Even a few days after- the thought lingered in your mind. Toji still refused to believe he said it- telling you that you were mistaken. 

And then Toji caught onto the feverlike smile you’d get on your cheeks whenever you’d see a baby in public. Smiling to himself as you pinched your eyebrows at the little humans. 

But there was this one time- on an elevator with a new mom and a baby in her hands. Toji noticed your staring as the woman struggled to reach into her purse, which caused it to fall and spill her belongings on the ground.

The woman sighed- looking down before peering her eyes back to you- “Could you?” she asked, holding out her baby to you- which you happily took and looked at Toji with the child in your arms. 

Toji swore his eye twitched as he watched you- happily bouncing the child in your arms before the woman reached her hands back to her child. 

After that, Toji started expressing his urgent need to breed you full of his children during intimacy- to which he still denied he said any of those things. 

“Whatever- as long as you don’t become a deadbeat again, I don’t care.” you scoffed, referring to his son he refused to talk about. 

Naoya Zenin

While he was dating you- Naoya took a lot of care in ensuring not to get you pregnant. “Children out of wedlock never result in anything good.” he would defend. He told you to start taking birth control- only you laughed in his face and said no.

That if he wanted to have safe sex- he would have to wear a condom. That you wouldn’t alter your body’s hormones just because he doesn’t wanna get you pregnant. And Naoya obliged. 

Midway through sex, pulling his ear down to your lips and telling him how much better it would feel without a condom- only for his eyes to shut tight- trying to keep his focus on not cumming, going as far as telling you to shut up. Multiple times, knowing if you didn’t, he might just listen to you.

Though you liked teasing him with the possibility. Asking if he didn’t want to see you barefoot and pregnant, waiting for him at home. Watching his neck pulse with a low gulp just thinking about it. 

In truth, you didn’t really want to get pregnant- Naoya had a point in the whole ‘marriage first, then kids.’ thing. You only liked watching his ears turn red and warm whenever you’d try and tempt him with having sex without a condom.

You didn’t think much of it- unknowing of the temptation brewing in Naoya’s mind with every waking day he didn’t marry you. 

Every time you whispered a temptation in his ear- the mental image of you waiting for him at home, swelled with his child and the future of his clan—Naoya was hanging on a very thin thread. 

And once he finally had the guts to ask you- it took very little time for the wedding to be planned. The thought of children was nowhere near your mind on the day. 

A small ceremony with his family, prancing you around like some trophy in front of the elders. 

And that night- Naoya held a gentle hand as he undid the little buttons of your wedding dress- carefully unwrapping you from the costly lace. 

You found it odd- sure. Naoya wasn’t usually the type to take things slow and gentle in this department. 

But when you looked at him, his hips between your knees with your back on the bed. Looking up at Naoya as he undid the buttons of his dress shirt- “We’re not stopping till you’re pregnant.” he huffed, tossing his shirt aside and easing himself onto the bed. 

Had you known your little temptations and offers of unprotected sex would cause his brain to rewire the idea of having kids- you still would’ve done it. Maybe with a little more tact though. 

Naoya no longer saw it as another responsibility of being head of the clan- he saw it as an opportunity to breed you again- and again. Till you were so full there was no other choice than to get pregnant. 

Suguru Geto

All it took was Suguru showing you pictures of him and the two girls he adopted when he left Jujutsu High and telling you countless stories behind the photos for you to look at him differently. 

You saw a certain change in the way you looked at him. No longer a father figure to two teenage girls, you saw him as an actual father. 

Mouthy and mean as those girls could be, you saw how gentle he was with them anyway. And you knew he could make a phenomenal father. 

You chose a tactless form of asking him. Sitting at the table eating breakfast- looking at his soft expression. 

“Would you be a dad again?” 

Suguru looked at you with furrowed eyebrows- “...Again?” unsure of when the first time he became a father was. 

You rolled your eyes, urging him to answer the question with a sigh. 

“Depends.” Geto murmured, looking back down to his phone and earning a kick from your socked foot. 

You scoffed, “On?” 

“If we are stable- money wise, and if the conditions are right.” he grinned, wondering where this topic came from. 

Your cheeks tingled in the slightest when he used ‘we’ to refer to becoming parents, answering another question you had. 

Suguru thought back to the question again, lightly raising his eyebrows at realizing what you were asking. 

“With…You?” 

You laughed- “No Suguru- with your next partner.” tone full of sarcasm as he rolled his eyes. 

“I would be open..?” he squinted, trying to gauge where you stood on this. Watching your face go unchanged at his response- wanting to hear the truth, not just something that he said catered to your opinion. “...To it?”

You grinned, “Suguru, this isn’t a trick question. Just answer honestly.” assuring him that this was a necessary conversation in a relationship. 

He gulped lightly, trying to shake away the worries of saying the wrong thing. Placing his phone on the table and looking at you with his hands between his knees. “I would love-” he grinned, cheeks blushed and avoidant of your gaze. “To have children with you.” 

You couldn’t help the shy little laugh that left your lips- “But we are a smidge too young- don’t you think?” you grinned, watching his head nod with a scoffing smile. 

“I did the teen dad thing- so maybe a little too young.” he joked- 

You nodded agreeingly, looking at him with love filled eyes- “We’ll wait till we are 40.” you grinned, watching his shoulders move in a small giggle. 

“Till 50- if we can.” 

Kento Nanami

You both had been toying with the idea of children. Small comments like, “Awe Ken-” looking at him with a soft smile. “You would be a wonderful dad.” whenever he talked about the fears of becoming a father. 

The talk of kids was spoken early in your relationship. Often were the times when the conversation of how many would come up a few minutes before bed. 

Playing with your hand in the dark, lying on your back with Nanami beside you. 

“How many?” You asked softly- hearing Nanami hum, close to falling asleep. 

A low exhale left his lips; “Two. Maybe three.” His voice husky from how close he was to falling asleep. But he was always happy to answer your questions- knowing they would keep you up if he didn’t answer. 

Rolling over onto your side and placing your head on his chest, “Twins?” you asked with a smile. Picturing the future with him as he put his hand onto your back.

Nanami let out a soft exhale with a smile. “Twins are a handful,” he spoke softly, his eyes daring to drift off to sleep as you caressed his torso.

You thought about it- remembering that you would have to carry them. “Okay. No twins.” 

Hearing his heartbeat against your ear as you thought of another question. 

“When?” 

Nanami gruffed a soft laugh, rubbing small circles on your back. “We’d have to be married first.” he mumbled. 

“Then wait a year or two.” his voice dwindling its tone as he eased into the exhaustion.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “Why?” softly blinking your eyes. 

“A year of blissful marital life before children come into the picture.” Nanami spoke, half asleep, as the tiny part of his brain that filtered his words refused to work. 

You grinned, “You wanna marry me?” softly giggling against his chest.

Nanami sighed- pressing his hand onto your back a little firmer, holding you close. “I do. Dunno why I haven’t ask you yet.” his words breathy and bordering on sleeping. 

“Should get on that-” he exhaled, hearing his breathing ease into a heavier pattern against your ear.

After that, conversations about children only came up more and more. There was talk of names and if you’d move into a house instead of an apartment. 

Slowly your own baby fever stuck onto him- you sending tiktoks of the chunky babies you’d get on your fyp didn’t help either. 

The words “Practicing won’t hurt” were uttered whenever you mentioned the word breeding. All too thankful to the iud you had, knowing the apartment would be crawling with children if you didn’t have it. 

Hiromi Higuruma

When you started letting Hiromi cum inside- he kinda just assumed that you were on something. Never hesitating to give you what you asked him for. 

But Hiromi started getting the hints that you had a particular itch in your brain that only he could scratch. 

The topic came up when you joined him for lunch- sitting outside a sandwich shop and hearing Hiromi talk about a case debriefing after this. 

Too focused on telling you about it before he realized you had stopped listening. 

Eyes looking off to the side and your thumbs twiddling in your lap. 

“Honey?” he asked, looking in the direction you were looking and seeing a mother playing with her child. Snapping your gaze back to him- 

“Sorry.” Softly exhaling, “Sorry- you were saying?” 

Hiromi furrowed his eyebrows, watching your eyes glimmer with a nervous light. Reaching a hand out to yours, “What’s wrong?” he asked- all too intuitive at what the look on your face meant. 

“Nothing- it’s okay.” Squeezing his hand assuringly. 

Hiromi raised a brow- parting his lips about to speak only for you to interrupt him. 

“Do you want kids?” preferring to rip the bandaid off rather than ease into a conversation. 

He inhaled again- only for you to speak again. “With me. I mean.” 

The corners of his lips curled, almost in a teasing smile. 

Hiromi sighed, thinking about the question and looking down to his half-finished sandwich. 

“I’ve never been in a relationship serious enough for the talk of children to come up.” he grinned, leaving your question unanswered. 

“You’ve never thought about it?” holding his hand tightly. Scared that you were illusioning yourself into a future Hiromi didn’t want. 

Hiromi tilted his head- thinking about it.

“I think I do…?” 

You pursed your lips, unsatisfied with the half answer. And Hiromi let out a blushed scoff- “If wanting kids meant wanting them with you- i do.” he clarified. Earning for you to look at him with soft eyes and a wiggling pout. 

“You mean-?” you pouted, looking at him with a soft expression. 

His eyes widened at the sudden severity in your gaze, not knowing how much his confirmation meant to you. 

Raising his hand to your lips and pressing a light peck on his knuckles “Can we?” 

“...Now?” 

You scoffed, “No, not now.” with a soft smile.

Hiromi exhaled, thinking of having an actual child- “How ’bout we focus on getting married first?” 

Choso Kamo

Ever since the first time you had sex- Choso always finished inside, no patience nor ability to time his orgasm and pull out in time. 

Not recalling the repercussions of unprotected sex- nor really caring. 

And when the conversation of children came up- You insisted on giving him an army of children. “I think it’s what you deserve.” To which he looked at you as though something awakened in his mind when you said that. 

While on dates, he would see an overly large family struggling to keep the many children in check. He would look at you and remember what you had said. 

‘An army of children.’

Between the two of you- he caught babyfever first. 

Walking through a strip mall- looking for a new pair of shoes when you passed a baby store. 

Choso tugged your hand, looking at you eagerly and leading you into the store. “Just to look,” he said. 

Holding onto a tiny pair of shoes, looking at you, and presenting them in his palm. “Are these really meant to fit a child?” 

You let out a small giggle, nodding your head yes and watching him prattle around the store. 

Asking you questions- as though you had any more idea than he did. 

Watching your face uninterested in the window shopping he was doing- “You don’t want to have kids anymore?” furrowed eyebrows and determined to cut the window shopping if you didn’t. 

You grinned, “Of course I still want to have kids.” taking his hand and placing it on your tummy as though you were already pregnant. 

Eyes wide and cheeks pink as he rested his hand onto your tummy. “You gotta pump a baby in me first.” Smiling at the fact he was already looking for things for a child that hadn’t been conceived yet. 

His mind sparked the idea of watching you grow big with his child. Made his eye twitch knowing that if you acted on your promise. That image wouldn’t be just an idea in Choso’s mind. 

Marriage didn’t make a difference to him- only a meaningless piece of paper. Like a license, or a ssn number, or money. (he’s in denial)

So the next time you had intercourse- Choso accidentally overstimulated himself. Keeping your words of ‘Pump a baby in me.’ in mind as you allowed him to pump you full of potential children. 

You did say an army of them. And Choso was more than happy to assist in creating the small army. 

-

𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭: play fighting with the jjk men!

[icharchivist]

cw: child abuse (psychological, grooming, ect)

also speaking of parental abuse there's also this text of how Millie wants to be Tyra's mother, but she doesn't want anything that makes Tyra unique.

She started loving Tyra the moment she saw her find some dinosaure when she was dying in the cold and starved after being separated from her parents, seeing that despite her situation, Tyra was so excited about finding a Tyranosaure she was forgetting how desperate her situation was and instead loved the dino right away.

Millie saw how excited Tyra was about it, and loved Tyra right away enough to decide to make her hers.

But Millie hates dinosaurs, she finds them disgusting, she uses them as tool and keeps insulting them, hates that Tyra sees them as her family.

she used the dinos as bait to get Tyra to pay attention to her, and she used a particularities of the dino to mind control Tyra

but even now as Tyra is being brainwashed, everytime she looks at the dinos, Millie just tells her "don't look at those disgusting things, just look at me, your momma"

and it's another level of control that rings way too true on parents who """"""love""""" their children, but not for who they are -- just for what it brings them.

yes Tyra is cute. But everything she likes, everything that makes her happy, is disgusting. So it needs to be removed from Tyra's life. Her love and her excitement has to carry over to Millie, not to the stuff she actually like.

it's something way too real and it's genuinely giving me the yikes it makes me unwell.

[hoshigray]

hello, lovely! is it okay to request a short fic wherein gojo’s pregnant wife (y/n) stole his kikufuku? thank u! (missing soft gojo hours 😭)

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: omg stoooop this is so cute and sweet, what!?

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Gojo x pregnant afab/fem! reader - tooth-rotting fluff - pet names (angel, baby, stars and moon, sweetheart) - Gojo being a big crybaby over sweets - so soft, i was smiling while writing, hehe~.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.1k

THUD!

“…!” You jolt, immediately looking to the entrance of the living room to see your husband. “Gojo! You okay?”

The white-haired man stands still with a gawked expression, eyes covered by his black blindfold with his usual Jujutsu Tech attire, and you can assume the noise came from the souvenir bags he dropped to the floor.

“…Y/n, my angelic stars and moon,” he finally speaks after a few seconds of silence, and you can see his lips quiver with trembling hands. “Is…Is that my last kikufuku?” 

If there is one thing Gojo loved more than anything other than you, it would be his undying love for sweets! You could never find him without any at his disposal; he’d have a bunch of lollipops in his pockets, be licking popsicles or soft serves while monitoring his first years during their missions, or typically stop by a café and grab some crepes for dessert to take home and share with you. He’s known to have a childish heart, and sweets are his weakness!

His all-time favorite would be the mochi delicacy he often gets during his mission trips to Sendai, and he’s always sure to buy a whole box worth to make the long trip up North worth it. Kikufuku, the crushed edamame and cream-filled mochi, is Gojo’s favorite sweet to eat — you’re a witness to him happily stuffing his face with them lying on the couch after a hard day’s work. He’s the type to eat one every week until he can return to Sendai and get more. 

This week was the very last one he had saved, secured in the cold fridge for him to eat once he got home. And he wasn’t going to Sendai anytime soon, so he planned on treasuring and savoring it the moment he stepped inside and lay beside his pregnant partner to chill on this blissful spring evening.

He could never get over the sight of you whenever he came home. Gojo loved his partner so much that he swears he would burn the world if you commanded him to, which you knew is an exaggeration, but his love is true. The day he got on one knee and heard you say yes to his proposal was the happiest he’d ever been, sweeping you off your feet, putting you in your dream puffy white dress, and officially becoming the spouse of the strongest sorcerer in the jujutsu world! And now you were swole with his child!? Not even God could strike this man to calm him down of his glee.

You were sitting on the living room couch like you always did, waiting for your husband to return, wearing a black maternity one-piece that comfortably molded around your figure and a blue flannel shirt – his flannel – to keep you warm. Gojo came home with souvenirs to share and impress, a huge smile just from thinking about your reactions. 

However, the sight has him gasp dramatically loud and drop everything to the wooden floor, because he saw something in your hand, something that broke his heart noticing the green and white filling apparent from a bite on an undeniable white rice cake. 

You were eating the very last of his kikufuku…How could you!?

You blinked at him, then turned to the sweet in your hand, and the realization of what you were doing finally hit you. “Oh! I’m sorry, Satoru! I was feeling snacky.”

The tall man teeters to where you’re sitting, whining with every step. “So why didn’t you eat your snacks, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know?” You shrugged, licking bits of the edamame cream off your middle finger. “They didn’t seem like what I was craving for. I wanted something sweet, ya know? And I finished my ice cream two nights ago, so this was all I could find.”

“Yeah, but like,” you can tell his eyebrows were scrunched together even if the black material concealed his upper face. “That was my last one, baby! Plus, you could’ve texted me you’d eat it, or I could’ve stopped somewhere to grab you something sweet!”

“I know! But, you were very busy today; a big mission up in Kyoto and a meeting with Principal Yaga, sooo…” you squished the mochi gently, licking more of the filling coming out. “I didn’t wanna interrupt or bother you…”

“But stilllll~!”God, you were so cute when you cared for him, you almost made him forget the whole thing then and there. But you can’t hate the man for being a little upset, right? Gojo sighs and places his cheek on your belly. “Little booger, you hear what your momma is doing to me? So cruel~.”

You gasped. “Hey! Don’t say that to them!” Your free hand tries to yank him off your tummy by the hair, yet he doesn’t budge as he exclaims painfully. “What, are you saying the pregnant love of your life is some villain because they ate one of your sweets? As if I never caught you taking scoops of my favorite ice cream!? Have you no shame, Gojo Satoru!”

He swats your hand off his snowy hair, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Between you and Principal Yaga, there is a scarce few Gojo would allow to beat him up for his foolishness. He turns his head – still above the baby – to face you and releases a sigh. “I’m sorry, I was just really stoked I’d get to have that kikufuku; it’ll be a long while before I go get more…Ughhh.” Another sigh is exerted, and you can only shake your head with rolled eyes. He’s such a baby.

You bring his blindfold down to his chin to free the azure eyes he’s been hiding since this morning, and his hair falls from its spiky appearance. Then, you separate the mochi into two and push one to his lips, “You happy now?” You say with a grin. “I’m sorry, but I wanted to give these a try. Besides, we’ll have a little one to look after soon; wouldn’t it be nice for them to know what their father likes to snack on from time to time?”

Now, how in the world could Gojo still be upset with that logic? Being a father is a foreign concept he’s accepting with open arms, sharing the experience with the person he values and cherishes the most. To have a child with you is the highest honor of all for him. And imagining his small family happy and eating sweets together under his care makes his cheeks show a subtle shade of pink.

He smiles as he accepts the piece of the rice cake, chuckling when you flick his nose playfully. “You’re so sweet, angel.”

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ✩ dividers by @/benkeibear.