#that says his dad’s love of him is more obligation than anything

[undreaming-fanfiction]

What I Wouldn't Do

This fanfiction is a Valentine's Day exchange gift for the lovely @henderdads. Cass, Eddie absolutely hates Valentine's Day, but for Steve? Well. He's willing to make an exception. Have an amazing Valentine's Day, you deserve it so much!!

Sometimes, it is difficult to reconcile several different truths in our lives. 

Eddie currently has this dilemma. 

Truth A: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson’s boyfriend, allegedly loves sappy romantic things, Valentine's Day included.

Truth B: Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington's boyfriend, feels like if the world ever has to end, it should do so on February 14th, for this is the worst day of all days, the day of heart-shaped chocolate that tastes like crap, couples exchanging sweet words and bodily fluids, sometimes even semi-publicly, and don't even get him started about that horrible romantic music. 

After swearing on the Munson doctrine he won’t sell his soul to consumerism for anything and anyone but Steve, Eddie Munson decides to ignore Truth B. Steve Harrington deserves the best Valentine's day in the history of this idiotic holiday and Eddie has a hunch, a massive, Everest-sized hunch, that in all of his previous Valentine's days, Steve was always the one to do all the work. His beautiful and brave people-pleasing boyfriend. 

Then Eddie realizes another very uncomfortable truth. He has no idea how to celebrate Valentine’s Day. He spent the twenty one-ish years of his existence avoiding the holiday, so now he has to do some research. 

He starts small. When they walk together in the Hawkins center, careful not to touch or hold hands because Hawkins still remains a backward hellhole, he notes what Steve looks at. If his eyes linger on a certain flower for a few seconds, he makes a mental note. A mental note means in Eddie's case that he repeats the name of the flower ad nauseum, quickly excuses himself and scribbles it onto his forearm not to forget. He even buys a permanent marker for this. He can't forget anything, not when it's important for Steve.

When Steve asks about the scribbles, he claims it's for the next campaign. He even draws a sword and a shield next to the notes to avoid suspicion.

He asks many questions, most of them under the pretense of helping Gareth with his dates. "I swear, Steve, when he's lovestruck, he gets completely stupid. Not stupid stupid, Gareth's smart, but he can't hold rhythm and we need him to hold it, he's our drummer! So save this suffering aspiring rockstar and tell me, what do you think is the best type of chocolate? Milk chocolate? Okay, and is that like, universal? Did your previous dates like it? I see, a majority then! Sooo...are you a part of that majority?" 

Very smooth. 

See, Eddie doesn't give a flying demobat about chocolate types, he's more into hard candy. He doesn't like cut flowers, they die anyways because you cut them, how is that fair to that flower, huh? To die for being pretty? And of course, he hates the whole EXPECTATION of Valentine's Day. 

But the more he asks, the more he finds out, he doesn't see it as participating in the mindless machinery of lovestruck idiots. Instead, he sees the flush on Steve's cheeks when he talks about dark chocolate with dried raspberries and how his parents once brought it back from dad's trade conference, how it was love at first taste. He scratches out the idea for a bouquet of flowers when Steve mentions he’s always hated them because the flowers are so beautiful and vibrant, but they’re cut for an obligation in their prime. “It sounds stupid when I say it,” he chuckles, “but I want them to live until they’re ugly and withered, you know? They’re worth way more than their looks.”

Eddie could kiss him right there and then. And he does. 

He brings it all together, prepares all of Steve’s favorites with a silly twist because it’s Eddie, and Eddie lives for silly things. It really needs to be his favorites because Steve once admitted to him that most people with the exception of Robin and Dustin don’t really know what he likes, they just assume. And Steve is happy that people even thought about him, he thanks them and treasures those things that don’t mean anything to him. To Steve, being thought about is enough. 

Well, not to Eddie Munson. 

He asks Steve not to plan anything for their Valentine's Day. Or more precisely, he asks him to stay free and available and not worry his beautifully hairy head. He knows that if he didn't say this, Steve would have gone above and beyond for him, he would have likely taken Eddie to a concert with music so loud he’d get a migraine, but he’d suffer through it. So Eddie has to stop that from happening.

On the actual day, Eddie prepares everything. He sends Gareth ("You owe me so much for this. SO MUCH, MUNSON. I actually wanted to watch this tonight!") to rent Steve's favorite movie and goes himself to get access to the Hawkins High with…almost completely legal means, just a little bit of bribing here, some promises for a lengthy D&D campaign there, and of course lots and lots of nougat. 

He gathers everything in his van, waits for the kids and the janitor to get out and then starts setting the scene. 

There are two more incompatible truths that Eddie Munson grapples with: 

Truth A: Eddie Munson fucking HATES the Hawkins High. He wants it to burn down in flames, with only the theater room staying intact. 

Truth B: Steve Harrington sometimes wistfully mentions how he wishes he could have dated Eddie Munson in high school. How they’d share lunches, trade secret kisses in the hallways. He wishes himself and the world had been different. 

And so Eddie Munson grits his teeth, walks those cursed hallways he only managed to escape a few months back and counts on Robin Buckley to deliver his invitation with flair. “Extra points if you get him a trumpet solo, Buckley!” 

Robin apparently delivers because only half an hour after the expected invite, as he is smoking his fifth cigarette - don’t blame the guy, he’s nervous! He’s got a big date! - Steve arrives with a smile that’s equally excited and nervous. He keeps running his fingers through his hair and overall looks just biteable. 

Steve walks up to him and brushes his fingers against Eddie’s wrist, discreetly as they have established. It’s their own version of a kiss. “I thought you hated Valentine’s Day?” he asks and he looks so apologetic that Eddie promises to base all villains in his new campaign on all the people who ever made Steve feel he wanted too much. 

Eddie glances around, deems it safe and pulls Steve into an actual kiss. "It might be Valentine's day for you, Steve. For me, it's the "Steve Harrington Appreciation Day." He winks at Steve and relishes in the slight blush that has crept into his cheeks. “The name is already registered and all. No changes possible or accepted. Follow me, big boy.” 

Steve laughs when he sees a set cafeteria table with something that brings back so many memories. How did Eddie get two portions of school lunch?! The man has to be magical, he decides. They eat together, chat about their day, and then Eddie decides feeding each other is off the table because they’re giggling so much he almost stabbed Steve with the fork. 

They walk the hallways together, hand in hand, and Eddie sometimes turns around, sticks his tongue out at an imaginary girl and sneers “back off! He’s mine!”. 

Steve turns after Eddie and nods. “What he said,” he whispers and squeezes Eddie’s waist. 

Eddie then hands Steve a sports bag he stashed in the changing rooms and winks at him. “What are you waiting for, Harrington? We have some balls to toss! Baskets to score. That.” And before Steve has a chance to protest, he gets his own bag and starts changing into those awfully familiar PE shorts in all their green and white glory. 

Steve just watches him, mouth hanging open. “Now I get why I never saw you in these,” he mumbles as he also starts changing. “I would have realized I’m bi like, at that moment.” 

But Eddie just laughs and pulls his hair into a loose bun. “Oh, Steve. You have no idea what those shorts on you did to the little closeted me. The thoughts they gave me.”

“Lucky for you, baby,” says Steve and pulls Eddie to his feet, “this time you’re allowed - and strongly encouraged - to both watch AND touch.” Then he cocks his head to the side and adds: “Well. If you score at least one point.” 

Eddie tries. Fails. Tries again, even with Steve helping him. Eventually, they settle for a quick game of tic-tac-toe which Eddie wins and happily squeezes Steve’s butt. 

Their final destination is the only class they ever shared, history. All desks are empty, except for one - the middle one in the second row, where Steve used to sit. There’s dark chocolate with dried raspberries, Steve’s favorite, and a pot of flowers. Yellow, another favorite. 

“The lady in the flower shop said they should live, like, really long,” shrugs Eddie and moves the chair for Steve so he can sit down. “I forgot their name the second I got them, but Buckley knows and she was asked to deliver a booklet with how to care for them.” 

Steve drags him down to his level and kisses Eddie, deep and long. He’s either crying or laughing into the kiss, maybe both. “I don’t know what to say,” he whispers into Eddie’s cheek. “All of this…is right. It’s me. You remembered.” 

“Eh…kinda. Tried to.” Eddie gives up and lets himself be seated on Steve’s lap. “Actually, I had a small…cheat sheet. Let me show you.”

Steve watches as Eddie takes off his bracelet and watch and sets both on the desk. He gasps as he sees a coiling pattern around Eddie’s wrist, something that looks like a dotted or scratched tattoo all around, but that’s not it. Because then Eddie moves his wrist closer and he can read all the words on Eddie’s skin. 

DARK CHOCOLATE WITH RASPBERRIES

NO CUT FLOWERS! YELLOW IS GOOD

COFFEE WITH ONE DROP OF MILK

NO ICE IN DRINKS - TRIGGERS MIGRAINES

BELTS AND SHOELACES - GOOD GIFTS TO WEAR

FREDDIE MERCURY

GOOD OLD FASHIONED LOVER BOY

NO KETCHUP! 

STRAWBERRY ICE CREAM

These and so much more. All of Steve’s favorites, all what made him feel like himself, forever preserved in Eddie’s skin. 

He buries his head in Eddie’s shoulder and holds him so tight Eddie has trouble breathing, but then he decides that oxygen is overrated. “You’re so crazy,” sobs Steve into his shoulder. 

Eddie laughs again into the quiet of their former school. “I know.”

“And I love you so much.” 

He kisses Steve’s forehead. “I know. And I love you too. That’s why I had to do this, you know. Because even when I’m old and ugly, just like these flowers will be one day, when I’m senile and can hardly remember my own name, I will look at my hand and I’ll know all that is important.” 

Steve holds him even tighter if that’s possible, but maybe oxygen is needed just a little. Eddie gently kisses Steve’s head again and whispers: “We’re not done yet, love. Can you let me go so I can play us a movie? Something nice.” 

The arms crushing him loosen their hold and Steve briefly turns away to wipe at his eyes. “Sure. Sorry, I just…this is new for me. But good. So good.” 

“You deserve the good. All of it.” Eddie means it. And if seeing Steve appreciated as he should have been all of his life is redeemed by something as mundane as ignoring some truths about himself? Eddie is ready and willing. 

As he puts Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom into the VHS player, he realizes something terrifying - he’s actually LOOKING FORWARD TO THE NEXT VALENTINE’S DAY. 

Oh well. Time to adjust the Munson doctrine. After all, it might become a Munson-Harrington doctrine one day, so it deserves some revision.

[obx-pogue4life]

The Right Path For Us

Summary: Rafe just wants to be able to feel his girl without anything between them and that need turns into a conversation which leads y/n and Rafe to realize they just might finally be ready to start a family together

Warnings: Fluffy smut. Slight breeding kink, begging, swearing, kissing, slight dirty talk, mentions of sex, pregnancy and marriage

"Please baby? Let me feel all of you without a condom,"  my boyfriend Rafe begged. "I need to feel you against my cock. Don't you want to feel me without that barrier in between us? Don't you want to feel my hot cum shoot into you, painting your insides with my seed?

"What I want Rafe, is to not get pregnant by my idiot boyfriend who thinks it's ok to just unload in me freestyle because he wants to feel all of me," I say to him sternly. I'm gonna stick with no.

"Awww come on y/n, what's the worst thing that could happen? You get pregnant? So fucking what! Who cares if I knock you up! You don't want that? Please...I know you. You'd love it if I put a baby in that belly of yours. You'd love carrying around a little Cameron and have everyone know that you belong to me.

I start to blush and Rafe gives me that shit eating grin of his, knowing that what he said is right on the money. "I fucking knew it," he brags.

"OK fine, but just because you technically may not be wrong does not mean I am ready- actually scratch that, that WE are ready for a baby Rafe.

"Pffffftttt," he says looking directly at me. He takes my hand and laces our fingers and leads us to the couch. I follow him but am a little surprised at his sudden silence. We both sit down, him still holding my hand and sit a minute in silence. "Do you know how much I love you, y/n?," he quietly asks, turning to face me.

I mimic his turn on the couch and notice how serious he is. "Of course I do Rafe. I love you just as much, with all my heart," you answer him, grabbing for his other hand. I put it directly over my heart and place my hand over his. "Forever," I say softly. Rafe's face lights up immediately and he moves our hands from my chest to his, repeating the word that means so much to him.

"Forever," he says to me. "I would love nothing more than to start a family with you y/n."

"I'm barely 20 years old," I say desperately trying to come up with reasons to tell this gorgeous man in front of me as to why we should not have a baby right now.

"Well that's a shit reason," he says chuckling. "Just because we're young doesn't mean we aren't ready. We are plenty mature and have plenty of money. NEXT," he says confidently.

"Well...we aren't married, we aren't even engag-," he cut you off with a wave of his hand.

"That is 100% your own doing y/n and you know it. If I had my way, we would have been married a long time ago.

"If you had your way, we would have been married in high school and we might not have made it here because you know perfectly well that it would have been really hard to make an actual marriage work when we still have to worry about getting to homeroom on time and submitting book reports," I say as calmly as I can muster.

We have had this talk many times over the past several years of dating and we both agreed to hold off until I was finished with college and Rafe played a bigger part in his dad's company. I know that him just being a Cameron alone would support us well beyond our means, that is always a big part of our arguments, but it's very important to me to know that we can make it on our own and support ourselves by having real jobs and skills to fall back on just incase we ever needed them. I also wanted to make damn well sure that Rafe knows I loved him despite his money, not because of it and this was a clear way for me to prove that to him; not that he ever questioned it but I never want to give him a reason to. With a family like the Cameron's, there comes a lot of underlying responsibility and a lot of obligations and I never felt ready for all of that, no matter how much I loved Rafe. Well...until now, that is.

"I still think we would have been fine but that was then y/n," he presses. "What about now?"

"Are you actually being serious right now," you say slowly, thinking.

"Serious as a heart attack baby," he states coolly.

"Please baby? You know I will always take care of you and you know how much I love you. It's only a matter of time before you're a Cameron anyway," he smirks at you, leaning in for a kiss. I sigh into his mouth, knowing he's right and struggle to come up with any real reasons why not to at least try to start a family. It probably wouldn't happen right away anyway and I know how much having his own family means to him. I also know he will always make good on his promise to take care of me and to love me. So maybe now could be the right time?

"So I'm not saying yes but-," THERE'S A BUT!, he interrupts.

"Oh my gosh, eager much," I tease him, poking him in the ribs and smiling. "I'm not saying yes but if I were to agree to this, I want to hear you tell me that this just isn't just about sex. I need to hear you without you trying to put the moves on me that you really want this as much as you say you do Rafe because so so help me god, if you're lying to me just to get me to let you fuck me without a condom-," BABY he interrupts again.

"You know me better than that. I would never trick you like that! What kind of a jerky bastard do you think I am?!," he feigns in mock rage.

"I know that," you sigh apologetic. "This is just a huge step for us and I just really need to make sure we both want this for the same reasons."

"We?," he questions, raising an eyebrow and smirking.

"Yes, we," I say to him, smiling back happily.

"You know how badly I want you and to start a family together," he says taking his arms and draping them around my neck. I might have started out like a little bit of a jerk earlier but it's just because I love you so much and my need for you clouds my mind sometimes. And I know that sounds like a line but you know in your heart that I mean every word of it. The pleasure we'd feel would just be an added bonus y/n," he smirks at me.

"Is that so?" I say egging him on.

"Oh baby," he says raspily, his eyes filling with lust. "You have no idea how good it's gonna be."

I feel myself gulp as my eyes widen from his confidently naughty confession. My breathing gets a bit faster and Rafe immediately notices my body stiffen in front of him.

"What are you thinking, y/n," he asks me, resting his head against my forehead.

"That I want you," I immediately say and then blush. I can feel Rafe's eyelashes fluttering against my face and the way his breath begins to pick up. He presses his lips to mine in a sweet kiss and I can feel the smile on his face. After a minute he pulls away to look at me.

"What else do you want?," he asks me, his tone desperate to hear my words of affirmation.

"I really want to start a family with you," I tell him earnestly. I always have. I just wasn't sure we were ready for it until...," I look at him as the realization washes over me. "Well... until this exact moment. It just feels so right. The more I hear you talk about it, the more it just makes such perfect sense."

Before I could barely finish my thought his lips were on mine in a fevered panic, needy and wanting, as if he hadn't kissed me in ages. Between breaths he paused only to say how much he loves me and how happy I make him, confirming to me that this was absolutely the right path for us. As he lay me down on the couch, his body is pressed flush against mine as he puts my hands over my head and clutches my wrists. I sigh in complete content as he kisses my neck and I let my eyes close allowing that familiar feeling to start bubbling up inside me.

"Raaaaffeee," I moan out, letting him know how good he's making me feel.

"I know baby," he says in between biting and sucking on my delicate skin. He moves to my mouth and gives me a long, sweet kiss. His tongue melds with mine so perfectly, it makes me wonderfully dizzy and all I can think about is how in love I am with him. When he stops kissing me and pulls away it takes me a second to come back to earth. I open my eyes and find him smiling, staring at me and his necklace dangling right in front of my nose. I playfully grab the chain gently and he leans in and kisses me sweetly on the nose.

"What?," I say giggling. He's still looking at me with that goofy grin on his face and he once again makes me blush.

"Now," he says with a twinkle in his eye. "I just have to get you to agree to marry me."

[songmingisthighs]

Wanbelyn

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

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ch. lxx - good girl

neurosurgeon!hongjoong × reader

buy me coffee ?

where love and peace is held, i never expected for this to happen. i planned and i planned, i expected, and i hoped, but it was never you. you held what i wanted hostage to make room for you, the thing that i needed but has no means of acceptance. deny me, live your best life.

At this point, you found yourself in somewhat of a choreographed dance with the father and son duo manoeuvring the child in question. Usually, you would have to move quickly between taking Kijoong's things out of the car and making sure that he wouldn't make a run for it, even going as far as installing a car seat, iPad holder, and small containers of cereal and snacks, effectively turning your car into a mom car. Now, you simply needed to focus on Kijoong because Hongjoong would instinctively take your bag and any of Kijoong's belongings with him. Then, the two of you would basically lock Kijoong's hands in each of yours and making sure that Kijoong wouldn't have any means of escaping or running away as your bodies would block his sides.

You both call it "inmate transfer" and others pointed out that it's actually called "the family hold". You both were confident that "inmate transfer" is correct.

"I think I stuffed myself stupid," Hongjoong huffed, taking a moment to readjust his pants before resuming the walk back to the elevator from his dedicated parking spot. You couldn't help but snicker in amusement at the way he was so comfortable with you, totally different from the person you first knew less than three months ago. "I told you not to get a second plate, Joong, this is all on you," you teased which caused Kijoong to chirp, "Yeah, Joong," he teased, sticking his tongue out at his dad. Hongjoong squinted his eyes at the two of you, "Hey, I finished my main course, I EARN that dessert. And you had some, (y/n), you can't talk shit about my decision," he huffed before crouching down to Kijoong's height, "And that's daddy to you, mister," he said, poking Kijoong's nose.

Teasingly, you raised an eyebrow at Hongjoong, "You asked me to spend my day off with you and Kijoong, I think I reserve the right to call you out for eating a plate of two waffles drenched in maple syrup and ice cream after finishing a whole ass pasta by yourself. And while we're on the subject, who eats carbonara at 10 am?" "Yeah, Joong, who?" Kijoong teased again, this time drawling to poke fun at his dad even more. "A hungry man using food as a reward for a week of hard work," he said in a mocking tone, causing you to raise an eyebrow, "So is this your way of telling me that I've done a good job?" you teased.

"Do you think you've done a good job?"

Suddenly there was a wave of seriousness over the two of you (Kijoong was blissfully unaware, of course, what with kicking pebbles around as he held onto your hands). You momentarily stop in your steps to look at Hongjoong, "What?" Hongjoong stopped in his tracks as well to look back at you, "Do you think you've done a good job so far? Are you satisfied? Are you happy working here?" Already had a feeling that the discussion was coming, you wasted no time in going straight to the point, "Is this about my employment ending?" Hongjoong was kind of glad that you brought it up first as he didn't really know how to say those exact words (In all honesty, Hongjoong didn't know how to say a lot of things to you but one conversation at a time). "Kind of, yeah," Hongjoong confirmed.

For a moment, you pursed your lips and resorted to continuing your walk to the elevator as Kijoong, still in his own world, tried to get you to kick the pebbles with him.

Feeling obligated to explain, Hongjoong opened his mouth again, "I should clarify, I'm not asking you because I'm reviewing your work or anything. In fact, I just want to know if you're happy which I think is the biggest factor in sticking with a job." You could tell that he was trying his best to not be confrontational and your lack of answer would soon make him cry. "Good because if that was your way of firing me after all that we have been through, I would be so pissed, I'd actually give Kijoong back his toy gun." Hearing his name and toy, Kijoong perked up and started jumping excitedly, "MY GUN!?" he exclaimed, hopeful but you immediately shot it down, patting his head with your free hand, "No sweetie, and please don't interrupt your daddy and I are talking."

Relieved, Hongjoong chuckled and shook his head, "At this point, it would make more sense if you leave in the middle of the night and move away to Antarctica or something. But I know you wouldn't," "Hey, I might," you pointed out, rolling your eyes, "Push my buttons enough times and I'll pull a disappearing act so fantastic, it would get Best Performance award at the Grammys or something." Hongjoong's eyes widened, thinking that you were serious, "What, you mean to tell me that you'd consider leaving us?" there was a slight panic in his voice that made you crack out rather loudly, "Oh my God, Joong, calm down! I was just joking! You know I love working with you and I'll be honest, I'm kind of attached to the cutie pies of apartment 801 so it would take a lot for me to not want to continue working with you," you said lightheartedly, pinching Kijoong's cheek affectionately.

It was only when you both stepped inside the elevator that Hongjoong realized what you just said. "Wait, did you just say 'cuties'? As in plural?" Confusedly, you raised an eyebrow at him, "Um, yeah? Why do you think I keep feeding you? You're basically Kijoong-sized XL and I love the boy to bits," this time, you couldn't help but scoop Kijoong into your arms and blew a raspberry on his cheek, making him giggle from the ticklish feeling. There was a mix of feelings that surged through Hongjoong's body and he couldn't pinpoint on the cause as the giddiness was so palpable he could taste it at the tip of his tongue. The sheer feeling rendered him speechless and he could only find his voice when the elevator door opened and the three of you stepped out.

"So... You love me?"

In all fairness, Hongjoong meant that as a joke. Or so he said. He so totally doesn't lowkey hope that you'd say yes. But he was totally expecting you to roll your eyes and call him stupid.

The last thing he expected was for you to step closer to him, nudge his hip with yours and grin, "What do you think, Joong? What do your own feelings tell you?"

A sudden wave of excitement-induced nausea washed over Hongjoong, his body forcing his brain to prepare to have the talk. The one talk he knew he had to have with you considering the revelation he made (through Seonghwa pointing it out but he was not about to give his friend the credit).

You saw that his brain was trying to connect the dots and it was entertaining, to say the least. But at that moment, it dawned on you that you had just opened the door to a conversation you had only planned to have but even that plan was not solid. So to feign being coy, you took quick steps to get to Hongjoong's apartment first. "Hey!" Hongjoong exclaimed when he realized that you had taken off on him and he followed suit. While the distance from the elevator to this unit was not long, he caught up with you quick but it was because you had stopped in your tracks in the middle of the hallway, eyes trailed forward which caused him to look in the same direction.

It was like seeing a ghost. Well, a ghost from his past. Because out of all the moments in the timeline of his life, he would never have expected to see the person he was seeing. Not after what happened in the past.

"Minhee?" he called out.

Minhee, his ex, pushed her body off of the door and smiled gently, eyes looking over to Hongjoong before it settled on you and then on the boy who looked at her confusedly, not knowing who she was but he was intuitive enough to sense that there was something going on. You took notice of this when Kijoong suddenly turned around and clung on your body, refusing to look at his birth mother.

You, on the other hand, couldn't help but stare at her. She looked like the pictures you had caught glimpses of when you were cleaning but... Happier. She looked pretty and well-kept, exactly like how a young lady from a respected family should what with her all-white get-up and expensive bag. The nasty side of your brain immediately made comparisons and you came to the conclusion that you and her were vastly different and though momentarily, the thought of her being the kind of person that made Hongjoong commit flashed, leaving a nasty remnant that felt itchy.

"Well, aren't you going to let an old friend in?" she smiled.

Hell, even her voice sounded nice.

How were you going to fare?

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[talaok]

Hi, I was watching your writing and I'm in love, could you do one where Pedro Pascal and the reader have a child and are very famous?

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x reader

A/n: OK. i'll be honest i panicked cause I don't know if by have a baby you meant giving birth to one or having having it, so I googled it and Google said the first one, so I went with that.

Having to sneak out of your own home while in active labor definitely wasn't on your to-do list, but the mob of paparazzi right at your front door didn't give you much of a choice.

It was midnight, why the hell they were still there was well beyond you, but then again, everything that had happened since you and Pedro were first spotted together had been just as crazy.

It was like a media tornado. Everyone seemed to have an opinion about you, and of course, a constant need to regurgitate it on the internet, magazines, and even newspapers at one point.

It was ridiculous it's what it was.

And when the vultures found out you were pregnant... oof, you can imagine what a shitshow that was.

A camera was being pointed at you every time any of you left the house, whether you saw it or not, you could be certain it was.

And Pedro had tried to do everything in his power to stop it, he wasn't someone who lost his cool very easily, but when it came to you and the child growing in your belly... he transformed completely.

He had filed lawsuits and spoken with everyone he could to let you have some godforsaken privacy and peace, but when that clearly wasn't working he started to get more practical.

You walked everywhere with him now, so that the moment the paparazzi got even a tiny bit annoying he could do his best to try and make them stop (which oftentimes required him to scream at them to "let you fucking breathe").

And now, that the media had somehow obtained your due date, of course, Pedro had planned the perfect escape route.

Which was why he was now backing up the car to rush to the hospital.

"You ok?" he breathed, although his lungs had long been uncooperating.

"yeah" you hissed through another contraction "just-hurry please"

His eyes were on the road the whole time, but you could feel him staring nonetheless.

His right hand was holding yours for dear life, telling you -I'm here, it's all gonna be fine- all the way to the delivery room.

"Just another push" the doctor said, and you obliged, pushing and squeezing Pedro's hand until all his veins were seconds from popping.

And then-just when you were ready to say fuck it, I'm done here, you heard it- you heard the cry, and you didn't know why, you didn't know how... but tears, tears a mile long started flowing from your eyes.

"It's a girl," The doctor said, handing the now blanketed child to you, into your arms.

If you could you would have told him that it wasn't a good idea, that your arms felt about as strong as noodles right now- but all you could do was watch, as the baby -your daughter- stared back at you with her dad's eyes.

"hey" you felt a voice to your left, and turned to find Pedro crouching beside you.

"hey there" he whispered to the baby, letting his finger trail her minuscule face.

"It's your daddy," he murmured "Listen, I know you're probably tired and don't wanna listen to me, but I just wanted you to know-" he paused, looking almost unbelieving, like he was waiting for the moment he would blink, and everything was gonna disappear, his daughter, you, everything he cared for the most in the world just... poof.

But you didn't.

And he still couldn't believe it.

"I just wanted you to know that I love you" he said, "I love you and your mommy more than anything, anything in the whole world" he kissed her pretty forehead "And I swear... I swear I'm gonna spend every single day of my life proving it"

You smiled through the tears, as he struggled to fight back his.

"I'm sorry, we need to take her for a moment" The doctor spoke again, 

You had forgotten he was still in the room.

"Do you?" Pedro asked, although he already knew the answer

"We do, Mr. Pascal, I'm sorry, we need to wash her and make sure she's all right"

He sighed, looking down at the tiny creature in your arms with a glint in his eyes you had never seen before.

"fine" he mumbled

You sniffled, staring down at her.

"I love you." you murmured, kissing her cheek "God, I love you so much" you chuckled, before handing her to the nurse.

Please be careful, you had to fight the urge to say.

And just like that- only you and Pedro remained in the room.

Silence, a light, stunned, happy silence fell- and only after you regained consciousness, and realized what just happened, did all the noises come back.

The beeping of the monitor, the buzzing of the tv, and- and shouts from outside, talking and murmuring of what you already knew was a crowd.

Pedro must have noticed too, because he went to peek from the window.

"I'm gonna kill them" he sighed, his forehead falling to the glass, watching as interviewers and paparazzi clogged the entrance of the hospital.

"It's a lot?" 

"Yeah"

Again, silence.

"Baby?" you called 

"yes?"

"We'll think about it later," you said, holding your hand out for him.

He immediately took it.

He crouched next to you and you looked at one another, so many things to say and yet no idea how to say them- until- until-

"We have a daughter" you smiled

And he laughed, he laughed all the happiness and anxiety right out of his body.

"We do" he grinned, his eyes teary "We have a daughter"

[puppetwoman17]

I’ve been wanting to talk about this but I thought it would sound weird and kinda Mary Sue like! Glad to hear that I’m not the only one.

I’m very adamant on Cap being a pillar in not only the magic community(cause of his Champion role obviously) but the hero community as well. He’s well-known for his heroics and impossible stories about battling sentient worms and being diplomatic with alien dinosaurs.

He’s also loved for the advice he gives. All Billy wants to do is bring smiles to these peoples’ days. He dishes out advice like it’s candy and always sees the good in people. He’s great at looking at situations through multiple viewpoints and understanding everyone’s thought processes. This in particular helps with the Superman and Superboy problem. He tells both of them individually that both of their hardships are valid. Clark is allowed to feel violated because his DNA was stolen and mutated in a way that was against his consent. Connor never asked to be created, always wanting Superman’s love but never receiving it.

They reconcile, and Billy doesn’t think much of it, because it’s what anyone would do, right? No biggie. He even does something similar with Red Arrow, convincing him that he’s not just a clone. He’s his own person. He built his own life. He has his own achievements. He shouldn’t feel bad for any of this because none of it was in his control. And Roy is so damn grateful because it feels like a weight has been taken off his shoulders.

Marvel just shrugs. No biggie.

He talks Leaguers through both personal and professional problems and guides them onto a simple, honest path because adults make everything so damn complicated so why can’t you just sit THE FUCK DOWN—

Ahem.

So he helps with that too. No biggie, right? Just another good deed.

He expands his one-way business to other teams too, like the JSA, the YJ team, the Teen Titans, etc. Spends time with each of them, helps them solve their own problems whether they’re big or small.

No biggie, right?

Fucking. Wrong.

The world of heroes absolutely adores him! The other hero teams look to him like he’s the cool uncle. Despite no one knowing jackshit about his personal life, they trust him wholeheartedly. They know he’s got their back.

That’s actually what hurts, tho. Whenever anyone asks him about his life outside the cape, he gets tongue-tied. Panicked. Silent. Doesn’t say a word until a new topic is brought up and then changes wheels like it’s nothing. It hurts, knowing he doesn’t trust them. They know it’s stupid, he never had obligations to tell them anything about the real him, but it stings. Where does he go when he isn’t Cap? Does he have family? A lover? Hobbies? Pets? Why is he like a brick wall with them? Did they do something wrong?

Things get especially annoying when characters like Booster Gold(from the future) and Doctor Fate(Lord of Order, basically on the same pedestal as the Champion) know his identity and don’t even bother to hide that fact. Leaguers will frequently catch Booster making knowing jabs at the Captain, winking and saying strange things that get the Captain riled up and shaking his head profusely. Nabu is no help either, with Leaguers catching him and Marvel quietly conversing. When someone, say, Barry, shows up, Marvel stops talking.

It fucking hurts. A lot. And Billy doesn’t even notice the looks of jealousy cast at his future teammate and fellow Lord by his coworkers. The YJ team is not taking that shit because that is their den dad. Diana doesn’t appreciate that these strangers know more about her brother than she does. Flash is all confused and slightly annoyed because when are they gonna play another prank on Hal? Is he just gonna keep talking to those weirdos all day? And the next?

Billy’s honestly just happy to be here. He never thought he’d get past the age of ten, so doing all of this, helping these heroes while learning more about himself, is just great. He’s speedrunning his way through every moody, self-righteous, hurt, traumatized hero with no sweat on his back.

So yeah, he is beloved and he doesn’t even know it. You betcha that when Cap’s identity is revealed, everyone goes full mama bear/papa bear/protective older brother or sister on him. No way is he leaving without supervision.

Nabu and Booster are rolling their eyes cause hello? That’s the Champion of Magic. If anything, he’s the one they should be worried about.

Yeah, they are politely asked to leave after that. Anyhow Billy, wanna go get some hot chocolate 😘😍

Excuse the word vomit.

[idyllic-affections]

achilles heel ii.

summary. love is a sin. the regrator is a sinner.

trigger & content warnings. threats of physical violence, nightmares.

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. found family (moreso than the first post), fluff, slight angst. pantalone & young teen!reader, slight arlecchino & young teen!reader. 2.6k words. they/them pronouns used for [name]. this fic is divided into six drabble-like sections. this fic is the second part of achilles heel; please read the first post before reading this one.

author's thoughts. teehee pantalone....... he is never dad-ified enough i swear. he has so much dad potential. look at him. silly rich guy (<- he is a criminal and is NOT silly).

i. a slip of the tongue ♡

       Their enrollment into the House of Hearth came with two specific conditions:

       One, Arlecchino would not have ultimate authority over them. They didn't disrespect her regardless, but Pantalone was insistent that her authority should not exceed his over them. He was their caretaker, after all. They were a special case in the Knave's orphanage—an orphan but not quite an orphan.

       Two, that they returned to his residence on weekends, which wasn't something they or Arlecchino has any qualms with. She didn't exactly get along with the Ninth, but oddly, she didn't argue either of his conditions.

       (They felt immeasurably guilty, however, that they had a home to return to. That was a privilege unique to them. The orphans of the House of Hearth did not have such a luxury; hell, those children could not even dream of a home outside of the orphanage.)

       This was one such weekend. Upon returning home, they let themselves into Pantalone's office—of course, not before ensuring he was not occupied with another Harbinger or other business partners of his. Had he been, they would have only entered once he was done.

       "I'm back, Father."

       ...

       Immediate terror stuck their chest. Admittedly, their reaction once they processed what had just come out of their mouth was a bit dramatic, but still! Had Arlecchino's children somehow rubbed off on them? All of her children tended to call her 'Father', but they only ever called her by her name...

       The Regrator paused what he was doing, wordlessly setting his pen down.

       "...Sorry, dear, could you repeat that? I didn't quite hear you."

       "Um. I said I'm back."

       "After that."

       "..."

       "[Name]."

       "I didn't say anything after, I swear." They were completely flustered now, hand shyly fidgeting with the strands of hair securely held back by what had once been Arlecchino's hair clip while their gaze settled anywhere that wasn't on the Harbinger. "I didn't..."

       "You are a terrible liar."

       "I'm— I'm not."

       He smiled at that, gingerly shedding his gloves and rings.

       He thought it was a bit cruel of him to create any kind of distance between himself and the little thief he brought into his home, especially in what was such an important and vulnerable moment.

       It was then that he beckoned them closer. They obliged, albeit hesitantly. His hands gently smoothed down some wild strands of their hair—presumably caused by whatever the Knave had put them through that day. His tenderness seemed to calm them down a little bit.

       "Do you see me as a father figure, [Name]?"

       They pouted. "I don't know. Maybe. It just came out. I didn't think about it. Sorry."

       If Pantalone was any more morally correct, he might worry about who they were looking up to, but...

       Their immorality was inevitable, really, so he tried not to concern himself with it too much. It was the one consequence associated with taking them in. It was one that simply couldn't be avoided.

       Pantalone had come to terms with that fact some time ago.

       "Don't apologize. I don't mind if that is the case."

       "...Okay."

       He held himself together with skillful grace that was only to be expected of someone like him, but the second they left his office, he slammed his head on his desk, resisting the compelling urge to just sob.

       (...He was probably the reason they had become a tad dramatic.)

       Oh.

       That day, the Ninth learned two things:

       One, [Name] had adopted a more formal method of speech, which was good. It would be useful in the future. His lower priority business partners, the general nobility of Snezhnaya and other nations... those people would all expect his child to take on a more refined demeanor. It was good that they already were.

       Two, which was objectively more important in his mind (because really, he did not care for the opinions of people who had never struggled a single day in their lives), he had unexpectedly become an actual father. Not just a caretaker, but a father.

       Oh, fuck.

ii. third time's a charm ♡

       "Can I keep him?"

       "Absolutely not."

       "Please? Come on. He won't cause any trouble!"

       Pantalone pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, sighing deeply. How could he have possibly gotten himself into this situation a second time? Perhaps he really was spoiling them just a bit too much. "[Name]. You cannot continue bringing wild animals into our home."

       They pouted, holding up the little feline in their arms. It may have been small and harmless at the moment, but a snow leopard such as the one they snatched up from the streets would surely grow impossibly bigger, provided enough time and proper nutrition. "Father..."

       He shot them an annoyed look. They could only smile innocently.

       "Don't 'Father' me, [Name]."

       "I've taken good care of Winter thus far!" Said fox chirped upon hearing her name. "Look, see—she's perfectly healthy. I can handle another pet!"

       "You named her Winter?"

       They shrugged. "It's always winter in Snezhnaya, so..."

       He couldn't help but chuckle fondly, teasing, "Clever."

       "I doubt you would have came up with a better name, Father," they huffed playfully. "Anyways, come on! Look, how can you say no to a little face like this?"

       Neither of the two said anything for a moment. [Name] held up the little squirming cat with one hand, supporting its hind legs with the other.

       It was clear to Pantalone that they would not budge.

       A deep sigh left his lips.

       They knew they had won.

       Once again, Pantalone welcomed another unexpected guest into his household.

       He could unflinchingly deny Il Dottore further funding for his experiments. He could ruthlessly send out the agents employed under his command to collect the debts of those foolish enough to leave them unpaid without so much as a second thought.

       Somehow, he could not deny his child another exotic animal.

       Oh well. At least the feline would eventually grow into a suitable bodyguard for [Name], he supposed.

iii. ultimatum ♡

       Whenever Pantalone had free time during the work week—which... wasn't very often—he had grown into a habit of visiting the House of Hearth.

       His darling child was there. How could he be expected to stay away?

       (The Knave grit her teeth, clenched her jaw, and ultimately bit her tongue when he kept showing his face in her territory again and again. As much as she didn't like the Ninth... she would have to tolerate it, she supposed. He was too preoccupied with [Name] to bother her the majority of the time, anyway.)

       The children were all polite and respectful with him whenever he came around, often pointing him in the direction of their sibling-in-arms. They were typically lingering around the younger children, engaging with them and entertaining them in a way that a doting older sibling might, but for some reason...

       They weren't there that day.

       "One of the matrons wanted to talk to [Name], sir. I don't know why," one of the younger children his child typically surrounded themselves with had told him.

       He was surprised to find that, rather than wanting to speak to [Name], one of Arlecchino's employees seemed to have forgotten just whose child it was she was speaking to.

       "We are raising soldiers," a woman harshly spat, "not regular children. It would be in your best interests, Mx. [Name], to quit teaching them to be soft."

       They blinked.

       "...Um. They're five."

       "Are you even listening?!"

       "Listen," they began, shifting their weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably. "They're barely five, okay? They'll learn. They can't even wield a sword properly yet. Half of them can't read mid-level literature yet. For now, I think they deserve attention from someone they can trust who won't hurt them. I mean... if I were really doing something wrong, Arle surely would have told me—"

       "You rich little brat."

       That stung, admittedly. With nervous fingers, they plucked at the threads of their sleeve.

       "By the Tsaritsa, if the Ninth himself weren't so enamored with you, I would have your head mounted on the wall for the disrespect you have shown not only us but our Lord."

       She raised a hand, and they flinched back, and then—

       Nothing came.

       "Fa— Father... hi."

       The Regrator's grip on her wrist was crushing, rage barely concealed behind a tight-lipped smile.

       "Hello, dear." Pantalone's eyes were kind when they were on his child, but glazed over with an unsettling iciness upon facing the woman. He leaned down, head tilting slightly as he observed the tense matron who so boldly dared to raise a hand to his child. "Now, I'm certain this was a one-time incident, unless of course you would be interested in taking a... leave of absence to see the Doctor, hm?" His grip tightened slightly in a wordless threat, a promise of a fate more vile than death itself. "A permanent leave of absence, that is."

       Tension weighed heavily in the air.

       Of course, the matron relented. She would have been foolish to not when the fate promised to her would be undoubtedly worse than death.

       "...No, of course not, sir. It won't happen again."

       He released her trembling wrist, adjusting his rings nonchalantly.

       "Good. Go on, then. Leave us."

       "Yes, Lord Ninth."

       She turned on her heel, bowing her head respectfully to both the Regrator and his child before rounding the corner of the hall. Just like that, she was gone.

       Instantly, all his attention shifted to [Name].

       "Are you alright?" he murmured softly, only for their ears to hear. He kneeled down to their level and gingerly tilted their chin upwards to check if Arlecchino's matron left any wounds behind.

       "Yeah, I'm— I'm fine..."

       He was quiet for a moment, thumb gently rubbing along their cheekbone and wiping away the beginnings of tears. The Knave would not like to see them in such a state. The Ninth didn't particularly care for her opinion, but he knew very well that his child did, to a certain degree.

       "...Don't cry, dear. Do not allow yourself to be pushed around. You are worth infinitely more than any agent among our ranks. Do you understand?"

       "Mm-hm. I'm just..." They gnawed on the corner of their lip. "I guess I'm used to it."

       He was quiet for a moment.

       "That will change," he concluded. "You will never be treated so poorly ever again."

iv. bonding ♡

       "Were you never given the opportunity to bake?"

       They hummed thoughtfully, lips pulled into a calm and content smile as they observed their father knead the bread dough they took part in making.

       Indeed, a man as prestigious as him could just have one of his employees do this... but what kind of parent would he be if he refused to bond with his child alone? No genuine bonding would take place if he was not the one engaging with them.

       ...

       Baking also happened to a special place in his heart as a child of poverty, so he didn't mind doing it.

       "Not really. I couldn't afford to. It was too expensive," they mused, trailing off briefly. Pantalone was quiet—patient. He didn't interrupt them or urge them to speak. He simply waited for them to go on. "I didn't get paid well when I was taking thievery commissions. I was small and weak, so it was easy for those older people who commissioned my work to scam me out of what I was owed."

       The Regrator made a mental note to investigate those people further.

       For now, though, his focus was on them.

       "I understand," he reassured. "Baking is indeed an expensive hobby. There was a time where even I could not afford it."

       "I really wouldn't have believed you if you hadn't told me," they said, stealing and snacking on some of the fruits spread across the counter. The Harbinger chuckled fondly, pinching their cheek.

       "Stop that. If you keep that up, we won't have anything to put in the bread. Now, for the next step..."

v. nightmare ♡

       It was the middle of the night when they jolted awake, skin dampened with a cold sweat and fingers relentlessly shaking.

       The House of Hearth's hardwood floor was cold against their bare feet, but it really didn't bother them. It wasn't anything they weren't used to, anything` they hadn't experienced in their past. It was with quiet and purposeful steps that they snuck out of the room they shared with a handful of the younger kids that bonded closely with them.

       Their years of thievery still benefitted them, it seemed, as they effortlessly snuck out without awakening anyone else.

       "What are you doing up at such an awful hour?"

       They practically leapt out of their skin, heart hammering in their chest at Arlecchino's sudden appearance.

       "I, uh—" they began, taking deep breaths in the hopes of calming themselves down. "Um, sorry. You frightened me."

       "Oh? My apologies, then, [Name]."

       Whether or not her apology was sincere was debatable. She seemed to derive very slight amusement from their fright, but gave them a firm pat on the head. It was comforting in its own way.

       "...I had a nightmare," they reluctantly admitted, "so I can't really sleep. Sorry."

       "It isn't uncommon for these things to happen," she replied. "Your apology is unwarranted. You aren't the first and I doubt you will be the last to be unable to sleep."

       "Arle, um... I know I'm not supposed to leave again until tomorrow, but..."

       Arlecchino's eyes were trained precisely on them, and perhaps she might have looked irritated, but in reality, she could not find it within her to be frustrated. They were strong and smart and excelled in the things that they needed to excel in. There was no reason for her to be frustrated with them for something so simple. It was normal for children to seek out their parent following a distressing experience.

       "I will take you back to the Regrator's residence, then. Consider it a reward for your high performance this week."

       "Ah, really? Thank you, Arle."

       "Go get your things. Meet me outside."

vi. found family ♡

       "You're home early, [Name]."

       When they entered Pantalone's office (he lamented the fact that he was still working at such a late hour, but such was unfortunately his obligation as a Harbinger), he was pleasantly surprised, quietly setting down his pen and offering them his full attention.

       "I know." They nodded. "Arle said I performed well this week, so she brought me home a day early. I guess she probably had something to do elsewhere anyway, since she offered."

       "I see."

       A silence settled for a moment.

       The Ninth instantly knew something was wrong when their fingers reached up to their sleeve, absently picking and pulling at the threads. He'd noticed that habit of theirs back when he first put them in the public eye.

       "If there is something troubling you, dear, you are more than welcome to tell me."

       "It's stupid," they murmured, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. Maybe they should have just stayed back at the House of Hearth.

       "If it's bothering you, it is most definitely not."

       "I had a nightmare."

       "Ah, I see. Is that why you've come home so late?"

       "...Yes."

       "Do you want to stay with me for the time being, then?" When they nodded, he smiled kindly, opening one arm for them so that the other could be free to finish what remained of his paperwork.

       They were secured in his arms the second he made his wordless offer.

       His fingers tenderly carded through their hair, mindful to avoid his rings catching uncomfortably on their locks.

       Love is a sin.

       In Snezhnaya, love is a sin.

       For his child, Pantalone was a sinner.

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!

[holdmytesseract]

Hi love i wanted to request a drabble/blurb with tom hiddleston where he is getting ready with his pregnant wife for an event and she says something like i look like a whale or huge.....

Some reassurance, comfort and implied smut!!!!!!!

Nothing Less Than A Goddess

Tom Hiddleston x pregnant!Reader

Warnings: pregnancy stuff, insecurities, fluff, tiny bit suggestive smut

Word Count: blurb

a/n: Thank you for that sweet request, nonny! I hope you like what I came up with! 🤗

P.S. This gif is how I imagined him to look in that oneshot. 👀

You stood in the bedroom in your underwear, after just having stepped out of the shower. "Love, are you ready soon? Luke will be here in about twenty minutes." You heard your husband call out for you, from which you presumed to be the kitchen or living room.

"Umm, yeah, I, uh, need to get dressed and perhaps put on a little make-up, but beside that..." An answer came immediately. "Shall I help you, darling? Or do you get along alone?"

You wanted to think about Tom's offer for a moment, but your mouth was faster than your brain. "Yes, please!"

"Alright! Just let me take off my suit jacket and shoes again!"

Now you kind of had a guilty conscience.

"Babe, you don't have to get halfway undressed just to help-" But it was, of course, already too late. Tom appeared no minute later in the bedroom, just in a navy blue shirt and tie, matching navy blue suit trousers and - black socks. "Yes, I have to, darling. No excuses. It's my obligation to help you," Tom stated, while making his way over to you and pressing a soft kiss on your cheek; palms came to rest on your six-month baby bump. "After all, I'm this little bean's dad," he announced; wearing one of his dazzling smiles.

Well, that was true. He had a point.

You couldn't help but smile and placed your forearms on his shoulders; fingers buried in his long blond-brown locks. "Okay," you said; nodding. "Thank you." Tom smiled even wider and turned his head to press a soft kiss against the bare skin of your arm; his scruff slightly tickling and scratching you.

"Now, let me help you." You nodded and turned to pick up your matching white dress from the bed. Tom being the gentleman and caring husband he was, helped you even to step inside; making sure that you didn't lose your balance. Then he zipped the zipper of the dress up; warm fingertips brushing your skin. It sent a shiver down your spine.

Once you were fully dressed, you took a look at yourself in the full-length mirror. The dress was new. You had never worn it before. How could you, with the steadily growing baby within your womb? Impossible. That dress would fit you probably not even a month...

"And?" Tom stepped behind you; hands on your hips and pulling you against your chest. "What do you think?"

You bit your lip; giving yourself a once-over. You gently turned from side to side in his embrace; getting a look from each angle. "I-I, uh, I honestly don't know, Tommy... I mean, I like the dress. It's beautiful, but..." "But?"

You sighed; knowing that lying to your husband wouldn't work. "I... I feel like I look like a whale. I-I mean, I am huge..." You swallowed hard; feeling very insecure all of a sudden.

Behind you, Tom blinked in disbelief. "Apologies... What did you just say, darling?" "That, uh, that I look like a... whale..." Your voice was barely above a whisper. The words hadn't even left your lips entirely, when the Brit started to shake his head. "Oh, no, no, Mrs. Hiddleston. I see what you're doing - and it's not good. I won't let you walk down that dark path."

Tom turned you gently in his embrace; pointer finger and thumb cupping your chin. "Look at me, darling." You complied; your eyes meeting his stunning ones. "You are neither huge nor do you look like a whale. Do I need to remind you that you are pregnant and that it's more than normal for your body to change?" "Y-Yes, but-"

"Ah.Ah," Tom interrupted you immediately. "Apologies, darling, but no. No buts. If you are anything, then beyond beautiful. Stunning. The prettiest woman I have ever laid my eyes upon. Nothing less than a goddess." You gasped; feeling your heart skip a few beats. "A-A goddess?"

Tom nodded. "A goddess, yes. Your skin is glowing. You look more radiant than ever. Your curves are..." He took a short break; licking his lips and swallowing hard. "...absolutely delicious. Drop-dead sexy. To me, Y/N, you are even more attractive than you've already been. I can't take my eyes off you. Especially not since your pregnancy really started to show."

You were kind of overwhelmed by his words; not having expected this. "Y-You really think that?" You asked; still a bit uncertain.

Tom smiled; his other hand giving your hip a soft squeeze. "Darling, would I ever lie to you?"

Your eyes widened. "N-No! Of course not!" He kissed your forehead. "See?"

You blushed.

"Now do you believe me, or do I have to show you how much I desire your body, once we get back home tonight?"

You wetted your lips; suddenly feeling bold. Tom's words had finally gotten through. Especially the last ones.

"Hmm, perhaps, you should yes," you answered; hand playing with his tie. Tom chuckled darkly; his hand on your hip sliding down to give your ass a small, playful slap. "Gladly."

Tags: @muddyorbsblr @mochie85 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @multifandom-worlds @jennyggggrrr @huntedmusicgardenn @hisredheadedgoddess28 @stupidthoughtsinwriting @fictive-sl0th @loz-3 @javagirl328 @icytrickster17 @jaidenhawke @eleniblue @lou12346789 @lady-rose-moon @km-ffluv @herdetectivetheorist @lokiforever @crimson25 @simping-for-marvel @cakesandtom @vanilla-daydreaming @kimanne723 @glitchquake @lulubelle814 @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @buttercupcookies-blog @november-rayne @mandywholock1980 @lokidbadguy @smolvenger

[judasgot-it]

MAY I PLEASE REQUEST KALDO X READER PLEASE? I DON'T SEE THIS MAN OFTEN. At first, the reader wasn't exactly interested in Kaldo's combination food taste, it tasted okay for her. Until she's pregnant? She starts having 'weird cravings' that's when she finds out how good the taste of honey or syrup with the other food combinations are

Omggg I love Kaldo sm, need to write for him tbh cause even if he's a side character, I love him...(I have a type it's so painfully obvious)

Headcanons: Enjoying Kaldo's honey sashimi...(also tw for pregnancy ig)

Headcanons:

Usually, when Kaldo offered his food, you would try it and say it's 'ok'

It wasn't a relationship ender - he was happy he found someone who at least tolerated his addiction

You mostly worried about him developing cavities, tbh

But recently, you found yourself salivating over whatever he ate - some of it was so bizarre, that you were starting to wonder if you had gotten hit on the head too hard.

For Kaldo? It was a goddamn miracle at first

Anything for you. He became a five-star chef in your eyes, and it made him so happy he felt like he was walking on air

You didn't even need to lift a finger. This man was spoiling you, really

For a while.

You had started to throw up in the mornings, which was a little more than concerning

The two of you were smart and figured it was the new diet. Kaldo was a little disappointed, but he could live

But you didn't stop. and despite eating healthier after that, you had started to gain weight for some reason

yeah. oh. oops.

Kaldo was pretty excited to be a dad. He was a calm, level-headed guy - but his thoughts were getting ahead of him

like damn...he was going to be a dad. maybe he was starting to understand Ryoh a little; because the idea of shoving a picture of you with a little kid that he made was starting to sound appealing

He had a lot of people he wanted to call and brag about being a dad too. half of them wouldn't care, but he needed to tell someone

but he tried to be cool about it

you were a little mad at him at first when you first realized.

Kaldo was making it up to you, but yeah, your vacation plans were put on hold for a long time.

Also adding a short drabble cuz there's nothing for him:

"Let me try that."

You reached over, trying to grab a taste of his honey-soaked udon. It had more honey than broth, and it moved in a slow way as he brought his chopsticks through the bowl.

"Seriously?"

Nodding, you tried to pick at it, but your annoying husband only swatted you away. He gave you an incredulous look, trying to see if he actually believed that you would even want any of his food.

You stared back, waiting. The man was too protective over his bowl, knowing that there now was someone willing to steal from him.

"Open your mouth."

Obliging to his orders, he held your chin gently against his hand, stuffing your open mouth full of honey and salty udon noodles. Instead of the expected disgust, you found yourself smiling at the burst of flavor.

"You...you like it?"

Kaldo didn't really know what to expect. You never really had liked his food this much before. At best, he got 'it's edible' from you.

Nodding, you opened your mouth for more, like some sort of shark. He huffed, indulging you.

"Shouldn't you eat your own food?"

"Yeah, but yours is good. The honey adds to it."

He smirked.

"Really now?"

You weren't ever going to live saying that down.

This is kinda short but I love Kaldo sm. what a little freak

[scuttling]

Flicker in the Dark - Jacob Black/Reader

Fandom: Twilight Saga Pairings: Jacob Black/Female Reader Word Count: 12,598 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Pining, Unprotected sex, Slightly aged up (Jacob is 20), Fix it fic Summary: My take on New Moon, if all of the characters were a bit more mature and Jacob got his girl. A/N: This is a third-person story that pairs Jacob with a girl who isn't Bella but who fills her role in the story; Bella doesn't exist in this universe because I find she's not as interesting to write as an original character, for me personally. The character has no name and no physical description, so treat her as an OC or a "reader," your choice there. :)

Keep reading below or link to AO3!

Bringing the idea of fixing the bikes to Jacob was the best thing she’s ever done: the best, and one of the dumbest, by far. 

They both have adult obligations now—she has class, and a part-time job, which are thankfully both online, and Jake works full time—so when the stars align and they’re free at the same time, they spend every moment in his garage like a couple of bored kids. They listen to music on his dad’s old radio, eat pizza and tacos standing up much more often than they should; Jacob isn’t twenty-one just yet, but they’re on the rez, so they sip beers sometimes, especially on the rare warm days where the sun shines into the garage and sweat prickles at their hairlines. 

He’s taller at twenty than he was when he was younger, broader and more filled out, like he’d said back on her birthday; she notices, sometimes, things like the tightness of his t-shirts stretched across his back, the way his jeans fit just, extraordinarily well. Those kinds of things you can’t help but notice, even if you’re emotionally, physically, and mentally unavailable, the way she is. 

He pokes fun at her age—forever a sore spot, especially when Edward is and will be twenty-two forever—but she catches him noticing her, too, sometimes, so she’s not a total embarrassment at least.

It doesn’t happen right away, like magic or anything, but hanging out in his garage does make her feel better; he makes her feel better, if she’s being honest with herself. He quiets the chatter in her brain, the anxiety, the self-doubt, and she smiles more when she’s with him, laughs more, gets out of her own head. She’s happier when she’s with him, too, bikes or no bikes—though the roar of the restored motorcycle engine certainly doesn’t hurt—and he’s good for her, there’s no denying that.

She remembers her dad’s advice, even more meaningful now that she’s moved out of his house and living on her own—sometimes, you gotta learn to love what’s good for you—and she even thinks she could, some days. 

That’s easy enough to say to herself, but so, so much harder in practice. She can tell Jacob is… interested, when they go to the movies, with the way he lays his hand on the armrest, palm up, in case she wants to hold it. Part of her wants to, really wants to; part just thinks about Edward and she clams up, can’t do it. She feels guilty, like she’s doing something wrong, even though he left her and not the other way around. 

She still loves him, will always love him, but Edward made his choice; she just wishes she felt free enough to make her own.

She feels guilty when they ride, too, because the one thing he’d asked of her was not to be reckless, and now she goes out of her way to find a rush wherever she can. Anything legal, be it motorcycles, rock climbing, running, skydiving, really, really big roller coasters—you name it, she’s done it, and though none of it ever worked as well as she’d hoped it would, she never stops trying. 

She knows better than to give herself over to things like drugs or binge drinking or meaningless one-night stands, but aside from that the limits to what she will try are almost non-existent. She loves the thrill of it all, loves feeling brave, feeling strong; In the end, she may wind up with a few cuts and bruises, but as long as she’s hurting no one but herself, she doesn’t feel too bad.

When she hurts Jacob, she feels awful, terrible, and she does hurt him—he’s so hurt for a while that he doesn’t want to see her, doesn’t even return her calls. She feels weak for the first time in a long time, like if she’d just been able to be what he wanted, to hold his hand, to kiss him, to get over herself, they both would have been happier. Now she just feels sad, and selfish, hurting the one person who has always been there for her, who’s always eased her pain.

She wants to respect his space, can’t bear the thought of hurting him more than she already has, but her anxiety gets the better of her; no amount of kickboxing or rock climbing has been able to take her mind off of him since that night at the movies, when he left in such a hurry. Even Edward has shifted to the back of her mind, though she has no idea when exactly that happened.

So she goes to him. Against his wishes. In the pouring rain. 

She’s so, so stupid.

He’s so, so shredded, even more so than usual; it’s the first thing she notices only because he’s soaking wet and shirtless and that makes it pretty obvious. The second thing she notices is his hair, no longer long and pulled back with a cord of leather, but cropped short, though inky black as always. The third thing she notices is the tattoo, a large, tribal design on his shoulder that looks well-healed even though she saw him less than a week ago.

She catalogs all of that, and then she remembers he’s avoiding her and that she’s here to ask for forgiveness (she’s willing to beg, but it’s sort of a last resort.)

She calls his name, but he doesn’t turn around at first, not until she’s right in front of him, fists balled angrily at her sides.  

“Jacob, I’m sorry… I’m sorry about the movie. Can we talk about it?” He huffs an unamused laugh, takes half a step closer; that kind of thing used to be playful, but now it seems almost menacing, between the muscles and the tattoo and the deepening frown on his face. 

“This isn’t about that. You–you need to leave. Now.” The tone of his voice leaves no room for argument… but then again, that’s never stopped her before. She steps closer too, more of a challenge than anything.

“Well if it’s not about that, what is it? What happened?” He turns away as if to leave and she reaches for him, fingers latching onto his wrist. She knows right away that when she tugs, and he turns, it’s because he let it happen; there’s no way anyone could force him to do anything now, not with how big he is, how strong, how solid beneath her hand. “Is it Sam? Did he get to you too?” 

“I was wrong about Sam. He’s helping me through it—just like he helped the others,” he says, but it sounds odd to her ears. If something was wrong, if he’d needed help, he would have come to her… right? “I can’t do this right now—you have to go. Please go.” 

Before, he was stern, but this time he’s pleading for her to leave, and that’s just not Jacob—they’d hash it out before he cut her off without so much as a word, instead of ghosting her and making his father lie for him and keeping secrets with Sam Uley.

“Jake,” she pleads too, but instead of tightening her grip on his wrist she brings her hand up to the nape of his neck, to brush through the short hair that lays there, drenched in rainwater. “Please don’t do this to me.” 

He closes his eyes like it pains him, and it very well might; she knows the similarities to the night Edward left are becoming almost too much for her to bear. 

Maybe that’s why she came here, after all, because she could, because at least she still knew where she could find him. Because even if he didn’t want to talk to her, at least she’d know he was okay. 

“I’m not doing this to you, I’m doing it for you. I’m not who you thought I was, I’m not good for you. You can’t be around me anymore.” 

Fuck that, she thinks immediately, because she is so absolutely tired of people telling her what she can and can’t do, what she’s strong enough for, what’s safe. 

She doesn’t want safe. All she wants is Jacob. 

“I decide what’s good for me; I decide,” she says, voice raised and rough, jabbing a finger in his direction, and he grabs both of her forearms and holds them between them. He looks like he wants to shake her, he’s so frustrated, but his grip isn’t tight. “You think you’re going to hurt me, or something? Because look at us, Jake.” Her gaze moves to his hands on her, holding her still but doing it gently, carefully. “It’s okay. You won’t hurt me, I know it.” 

He drops her arms like she’s burned him, like he didn’t even realize he was holding them, and takes two steps back, away from her.

“You’re right, I won’t—because you can’t ever come here again.” 

He turns and runs to Sam and the other guys, leaving her standing in the rain, soaked and alone, her stomach in knots. The chatter is back, the self-doubt, louder than ever now; if they could both do this, both leave her so easily, would she ever be enough for anyone?

She’s not sitting around her house moping about this, not again. She did that with Edward and it got her absolutely nowhere, so this time she resolves to just skip to the front of the line. She packs a bag for the trail and goes hiking, plans to take a long path deep into the woods, away from the bear attacks or whatever’s going on out there. Her dad would have her head if she walked headfirst into danger, and she knows better, anyway, isn’t going to actually risk her life just to get Rocky Mountain high. 

She hadn’t planned on risking her life, anyway, but how was she to know the formerly peaceful Laurent was back in Forks, red eyes and all, and that he was working with Victoria? That wasn’t on her supernatural drama bingo card, that’s for damn sure. 

She listens to him do the villain rambling for a moment, but irritation wins out over fear and she loses her temper, slips up and says that Edward is gone and he’s not coming back, and if he wants to kill her, well no one’s stopping him! 

He looks amused by her outburst, but the smile melts off of his face when an enormous black wolf steps out of the trees, followed by several others of all shades, shapes, sizes. She doesn’t get a chance to count them, just runs like hell in the other direction, but when she risks a look back they are going after Laurent with a precision she wouldn’t expect from wild animals just looking for dinner. 

She tells no one about the wolves—who would believe her anyway?—just runs back to her truck until she’s breathless, goes home and takes a steaming hot shower to rinse away the cold clamminess of his touch. She makes a cup of tea and changes into a t-shirt, a pair of shorts, then parks herself on the couch with her laptop for the rest of the night. 

Until the knock at the door that comes around 1 AM. 

It’s Jacob, and she’s so happy to see him that she forgets all about her day up until that point and wraps her arms around him, hugs him where he stands in the doorway. He hugs back, thank god, his embrace tight and warm and comforting, and then she ushers him in, offers to make more tea while they talk. 

“About the other day,” she begins, filling the electric kettle with water and plugging it in, but he cuts her off, panicked. 

“I wish I could explain,” he says, and he’s almost got those puppy dog eyes that always get him his way; he doesn’t even do it on purpose, just looks like that, and it’s incredibly hard to resist. “But I literally can’t.” 

“No, I know, I… I mean, I think I know.” She has a box of tea in her hand and she’s gesturing a bit wildly with it, so she sets it on the counter, walks closer to him, so there’s about a foot of space between them. “First rule of fight club is you can’t talk about fight club—wait, it’s not an actual fight club, right? Because you’d dominate.” 

He laughs, a real one, with his head thrown back, and she all but grins. There he is. Her Jacob. 

“No, it’s not a fight club, but you’re right. I can’t talk about it, I can’t tell you anything.” His tone of voice hurts her, because it’s clear this is something he wants, needs to share; she moves closer, eyes on his.

“And what if I guess? Is that against the rules?” He shakes his head fervently, rests his palm on the counter beside him.

“No, no—in fact, that’s exactly what I need you to do. Sam can’t stop you, and I know you, you’re smart, won’t stop until you figure it out.”  He reaches out with his other hand, tentatively, and links their fingers together like he did at the movies; when he brings their hands up to his chest, this time, she doesn’t pull away. “It would be so much easier if you knew.”

His face is so soft but so serious, his brow furrowed, and she squeezes his hand.

“I’m going to feel really silly if I’m wrong, but I don’t think I am. I’ve been working on it all night.” With her free hand, she pulls her phone out of her pocket, shows him the same screen she has up on her laptop in the other room. It’s a list of all the facts she has, her own speculation, and finally, in size 42 font, one very important eight-letter word. “You said before that Sam was collecting disciples—a pack of them, Jacob, right?” 

“Yes. Fuck,” he breathes, and though she’s heard him say it in the garage many times, this one is special because it means she’s right. He slides down to a seat on the tile floor, looks so relieved it makes her chest feel tight, and she kneels in front of him, hands on his bare shoulders. 

“You’re a werewolf, Jake, just like the legend—your tribe is descended from wolves. Tell me I’m wrong.” 

He doesn’t say a word, and at first she’s afraid she is incorrect, but then he reaches out and pulls her close, crushes her to his body. He breathes hard into her hair, holds her tightly, and she can’t help it, she cries, hot tears leaving tracks down her cheeks.

He brings his hands there after a moment, wipes the tears away with his thumbs, then holds her face like she’s something precious, lips turning up into a half-smile.

“Thank you. I knew you could do it.” He tips forward, presses their foreheads together, moves his hands to her waist. “You don’t know how badly I wanted you to know.”

“Oh, Jake. I’m sorry—I should have caught on faster. It’s obvious, when you put everything together, when you… You know. When you’ve seen what I’ve seen.” He nods his head and swallows, presses his fingertips into her side. She shifts closer, or he does, maybe they both do, so their breath mixes between them, soft and warm.

“It’s okay, you’re here now. You’re here, it's okay,” he repeats, and she pushes fingers through his hair, softer now that it’s dry. 

“I’m here, and I don’t have to stay away.”

They don’t quite kiss, because she’s still nervous, maybe even more so now—they were so close to being separated, and now that he’s back in her life, in her house, she doesn’t want to risk breaking this delicate, fragile thing between them. His mouth just brushes over hers, more a swipe than a press of lips, and she turns her head so the rest of it catches her cheek instead. 

He sighs, but he’s not upset, and he lifts a hand to smooth through her hair before dropping it altogether. 

“I should go,” he says, but she can’t bear the thought of losing him again already. She stands when he does, takes his hand the way he did before. 

“Can you stay the night? Please?” She squeezes his fingers, tries her hand at her own version of those sad puppy eyes. “I understand if you can’t, but I’d feel… I want you to,” she’s clear to say, and eventually, he nods. 

She makes up a bed for him on the sofa, intends to head upstairs when he’s comfortable; she doesn’t know what stops her, but she stretches out on the other end of the couch instead and they put on a movie, something black and white, volume low. She couldn’t say for sure who’s the first to fall asleep.

She’s the first to wake up, so she takes a quick shower, does some work, brews some coffee. He’ll probably head out the moment his feet hit the floor, so she prepares herself for that—she just hopes that the rest of his pack knows he’s there, that they aren’t worried, or frantically searching the preserve for signs of him like she would be. 

She asks him that when he pads into the kitchen an hour later, eyes sleepy, bedhead evident, and he pours a cup of coffee and sits across from her at the table. 

“Nah, they knew I was coming,” he assures with a sip. “They know by now that if they can’t find me, I’m probably here with you.” That makes her smile, though she looks down into her mug and tries not to show it. He takes a few more quick gulps despite the temperature and sets down his empty cup with a smack of his lips. “Speaking of the pack, I think you should meet them. We gather at Emily’s—that’s Sam’s fiancee—sometimes, and they’ll be there today.”

“Will they be angry that I figured it out?” she asks, genuinely curious. She wants to meet them, wants to know more about the group of guys Jacob is now supernaturally entangled with, but she’s not so sure a house of angry werewolves is somewhere she’s ready to be so soon after her last brush with death. He breathes a laugh and shakes his head. 

“They won’t be angry. They’ll probably be irritated with me, because I couldn’t just let you go…” Their eyes meet, and she thinks of reaching out to touch his hand across the table, though she doesn’t in the end. “But as for you, they’ll probably just be impressed.”

The pack is both impressed by her and slightly irritated with Jacob, but stern glances and eye rolls quickly turn to laughter and playful shoving, as they pile into Emily’s small but cozy kitchen and make introductions around a batch of fresh muffins.

She gets official confirmation on things she’d only read about—like their ability to hear each other’s thoughts when shifted, the accelerated healing, their speed, their power—right from the wolves' mouths, and they learn from her too, everything she knows about vampires like Laurent and Victoria. She doesn’t talk much about the Cullens, mostly because their secrets are not hers to tell, but she can see Jacob’s brain working as she mentions Victoria’s vendetta, as she shows the group the pale, silvery bite mark on her arm. 

“If she’s here, she’s here for me,” she tells them, and Jake tenses, his jaw tight, veins visible, shoots Sam a look that conveys they have a lot to talk about when she’s not around. 

Later, she suggests to Jacob that he take a walk with her, because she can tell how all of those stories have put him on edge. Together they amble slowly toward the beach, close but not touching, and this time she does take his hand, leans in so their forearms brush. 

“It’ll be okay,” she murmurs, tilting her head to look up at him. “You guys are strong, fast. You took down Laurent—I have no doubts you’ll get her too.” 

“Before she hurts you?” he says, staring ahead, voice rough because he’s been mostly silent all day, listening closely to her and taking everything in. “Because if she does…” 

“She won’t. The others are watching her,” she says, hoping like hell that’s still true, “and even if she finds me… I trust you to protect me.” He stops there, on the wet sand, and she turns toward him so she can see his expression, to get a better idea of what’s on his mind. 

“If they come back, I’m not allowed to fight on their land—I’d be breaking the treaty,” he says with a pained look. She understands the words he’s not saying: if they come back, I wouldn’t be able to protect you in your own home.

“They’re not coming back,” she whispers, because she can’t say the words any louder than that, even though they’re true.  “He made his choice, and that’s—that’s okay.” 

“Is it?” Jacob asks, leaning in, and she gets it, gets why; she hasn’t exactly been positive about Edward’s departure, how his choice affected her, took his family away from her too, and now suddenly she’s okay with it?

It isn’t sudden, though, not really. It’s been a gradual acceptance, something she’s been coming to terms with since the day he left. She knows Edward’s decision wasn’t made easily; she knows he didn’t leave because he didn’t love her, but because he loved her so much he put aside his feelings for her and did what he thought was right. 

He went about it all the wrong way, removing every trace of himself from her life, banning his family from communicating with her, taking her choices away, but in the end his heart was in the right place, and she’s found a way to respect that, despite everything. 

Maybe it’s just Jacob. He brought her out of her post-breakup shell, made her smile again, laugh again, feel important and wanted and cared for. Maybe he filled in the cracks of her broken heart so she could use it again, without the need for exhilaration and adrenaline to cover up the pain of what she’s lost; maybe it’s just Jacob, bright like the sun they so seldom see, special and rare and wild. 

“It’s okay,” she assures him, voice steady with her conviction. She raises their conjoined hands and presses her lips to his knuckles, just briefly, before dropping them back to her side. 

Jake nods, accepts her answer, and they walk further along the beach until the sun goes down in a hazy blend of blue and orange and red.

He offers to drive her home, and even though it’s impractical, and she’d usually put up a fight, she wants that extra time with him. Wants to be that close to him. She sits in the middle of the bench seat, neither up against him nor really on the passenger’s side, but close enough for Jake to throw an arm across her shoulders, and they listen to the radio and talk about his pack while cruising down the road. 

“I better go,” he murmurs before she can even unlock her front door, and she tries not to let her face fall; she’d been hoping he’d stay over again, or come inside for a little bit, at least. 

She must fail at controlling her expression, because Jacob smiles softly, like he’s pleased with himself, and leans in, brushing his fingers over the line of her jaw. 

“We’re patrolling tonight—got a vampire to kill. But I’ll call you tomorrow?” 

She nods beneath his touch, and he pulls back and turns to leave, jogging down the street and toward the forest that’ll lead him back to La Push.

He does call the next day, but it’s brief; Victoria’s back, just as Sam expected, so they’re running all night, all day, trying to catch her off guard, taking breaks only to eat and sleep when they absolutely have to. Jacob promises to check in when he can, but after three days with no contact—and a voicemail from her father about locals spotting wolves in the woods—she’s on edge again, less concerned for her own safety, more worried about Jake’s. 

She’s an absolute idiot for doing it—going to the beach, to the tall cliffs that loom over it—but she needs the rush again, doesn’t feel right when it’s just her own troubled voice in her head. She needs to hear the purr of an engine, the hum of a plane, the crashing of pure, white water against rocks… or maybe Jacob’s heartbeat. But the cliffs are the simple option at the moment, and all she can think about until she’s actually there, looking out over the ocean, the gritty scents of sand and salt in her nose. 

She takes several deep, long breaths. That’s the key to these things that bring her so much excitement—using all of her senses, so she’s not just herself but everything around her too. She needs to see the sun on the horizon, taste the spray of seawater and clean, crisp air. She needs to smell the damp earth, touch the frothy bubbles that lap at the shore, hear…

She hears a wolf, actually, howling solemnly in the distance, but doesn’t register the sound until after she’s already jumped. 

The waves are choppier than they’d appeared when she was looking down at them, and it knocks the breath out of her lungs when they crash into her body, pulling her down into the dark vastness of the icy sea. Her arms and legs move instinctively, fighting to bring her back to the surface, but the water is deep and heavy and she’s already so tired of trying. 

She’s so cold all she can feel is cold, her teeth chattering, so even when she hits her head on a boulder and it starts to bleed, she doesn’t realize what’s happened until everything turns black.

She’s warmer, suddenly, that’s all she knows, though the ground beneath her back is rocky and wet, uncomfortable. She thinks maybe it’s a blanket that feels so warm, but quickly realizes it’s Jacob above her, soaked to his bones, a sigh of relief passing his lips. 

“Oh thank god. Can you hear me?” He cradles the back of her head in his palm and helps her sit up, then presses his fingers tenderly to the sore bump beneath her hair. “Your head’s not that bad, but I bet it hurts.” 

“Hmm. Hurts,” she mumbles, her throat raw, temples throbbing. She’s cold and tired and thirsty, but ashamed above all else; maybe she really does need someone making the decisions for her, if this is the kind of stupidity she gets up to when she’s alone. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” he answers quickly, and he runs his hands over her arms and legs, her neck, her face, checking for further injury. “I’m just glad you’re alright. The waves are bad today; you could have been swept away.” 

“I didn’t realize that until it was too late,” she admits sheepishly, and when he brings her closer she rests her cheek against his chest, feels tears stinging her already tired eyes. “I’m sorry, Jacob.” 

“It’s okay, I’m here. It’s okay.” His voice is as soft as his hands as they curve around her, holding her against him, and they sit like that for a couple minutes, until Sam runs over and tells him to get her home. 

He drives again, but this time she’s even more grateful, because there’s no way she could have done it herself. She feels so much at once—dumb and scared and childish, but also brave and calm, while somehow her mind races with thoughts of the wolves howling and Jacob’s hands in her hair. Her focus is shot, and even though she’s wrapped in one of Jake’s thick, fleece lined hoodies, she trembles, heavy and cold, as she peers out the passenger side window, watching the trees go by.

“Hundred and eight degrees over here,” Jacob says eventually, with a half smile, and she blinks for a moment before giving in; with a sigh, she scoots closer, wraps an arm around his waist. She can feel the heat of his body even through the layers they wear, and she shivers involuntarily at the pleasant but abrupt change in temperature.

“You still want me this close? Not afraid the bad decisions will rub off onto you?” It’s a joke, a self-deprecating one, and an apology all bundled together. “What I did was stupid, I know. I could have gotten really hurt, and you should have been out there with the pack, with Harry, not saving me.” 

He tilts his head, leans closer so his cheek rests against her hair.

“Well it wasn’t smart, but we all have our moments. And you couldn’t have known about Harry—don’t be too hard on yourself.” A long beat of silence passes, and she turns toward him, pressing her icy nose to his neck with another sigh.

“Mmm. You’re so warm. It must be nice, never getting cold.” 

“It’s a wolf thing,” he says with a shrug, but it’s not, not really, and she can’t let that stand. 

“Maybe, but trust me, it’s a Jacob thing too. You’ve always been warm.” She just sits there, breathes him in, lets him warm her hands and nose, so content she almost doesn’t notice when he pulls up in front of her house.

“This is better. Now that you know about me,” he says, tipping his face down, after he turns off the truck. She pulls back just enough to look into his eyes, to try to gauge his intent.

“But?” He swallows hard, looks away for a moment before returning to her face.

“You saw what happened to Emily. Sam got angry, lost it for a split second, and Em was standing too close. He’ll never be able to take that back.” He shakes his head, as if imagining the two of them in the same situation. What he could do to her. What she would think of him. “What if I get mad and I hurt you?” 

“You’re new to this—even if you are a natural,” she says, remembering a comment Embry had made when they’d last spoken. “You’ll learn how to control it, how to read the warning signs, and you’ll either stop yourself from turning or get somewhere safe. We’ll be okay,” she promises, resting her hand soothingly against his neck, and he sighs softly.

“Sometimes, I feel like I’m gonna disappear. Like one day it will be all wolf and no Jake.” He leans in, close enough that their noses just barely brush, and the way he looks down at her is something like… 

Yearning, she thinks to herself after a beat. It’s a powerful emotion, but she’s never seen it look quite so beautiful before. 

“You’re not going to lose yourself. I won’t let that happen.” 

“How?” he asks, bringing a hand up to cover hers, and she wets her lips, shakes her head to clear it; it’s swimming again, in this small space, so very close to him—especially when he’s looking at her like that.

“I’ll tell you all the time… how special you are to me.” She looks up, feels like she’s showing her soul to him, like this incident has stripped her down to bare bones and she’s letting him see her, once and for all. He stares into her eyes for a long moment, then leans in slowly, tentatively, and this time she doesn’t stop herself from meeting him in the middle, from pressing her mouth to his. 

She can actually feel the relief wash over him when she doesn’t reject his kiss, like he’s been tightly coiled and tense and can finally relax because she wants the same things, feels the same way.

She expects his lips to be warm, soft, but he is scorching against her skin, even more so when he moves his hand to her cheek in a gentle caress. With the palm against his hip, she pushes up his t-shirt, gets her fingers on his body, and they both gasp softly into the kiss, deepen it. 

“Jacob,” she sighs when they part for air; he seems okay, if a little shaky, but she feels flushed, eager, almost vibrating with the need to keep kissing him. She wants more, even though her throat burns like the last time his lips touched hers, when he forced the water out of her lungs and saved her life. 

That’s what he does best, her Jacob—like a flicker in the dark, he always pulls her away from the dangers of her own making and brings her back into the light.

“Is this real?” he asks, his breath a ghost on her lips; his other hand, on her lower back, pulls her closer to his body, and she turns her head and kisses the palm resting on her cheek. 

They kiss again, hands a bit less careful, hers sliding up his back, his weaving into her hair to control the tilt of her head. She gives in to it all, lets him set the pace, gripping him like a life preserver and letting his heat warm her from the inside out. She feels like she can’t get possibly close enough, wants to be pressed skin to skin, but she settles for sliding into his lap, ducking her head so she doesn’t hit it on the metal roof of the truck. 

He groans as she twists fingers into his hair, as she pulls him into her and feels the long, hard line of his body against hers. She kisses faster, harder, and he matches her fervor, wraps an arm around her waist and catches her chin with tight fingers. 

They kiss for a long time, and the cabin heats, windows fogging up as they share breath and saliva, as they murmur each other’s names like prayer. Her lips are red and raw when she finally needs to pause, and she rests her head against his chest and listens to the thunderous, wild beating of his heart. 

“Will you stay the night? Please?” she asks, voice a little broken—rough with need, and soreness from nearly drowning, and breathlessness caused by the most intense kiss of her entire life. 

Jacob nods, and he sets her carefully back on the seat, removes the keys from the ignition and climbs out of the truck. She slides out behind him, and he closes the door, takes her hand in his just like she did on the beach.

He locks the front door behind them when they’re finally inside—as if that will stop anyone we need to worry about, she teases with a soft laugh—and she takes the lead, walks up the stairs toward her bedroom with Jacob trailing behind. 

Despite his surreal body heat and the thick, warm sweatshirt he’d given her to wear, she’s still cold down to her bones, and wet like a drowned rat, so she pulls off her shoes and socks and sets them down by the radiator. Jacob watches her every move from a couple steps away, eyes lingering as she shrugs out of his hoodie, then pulls her damp sweater over her head. 

There’s nothing sexy or seductive about it, it’s not a striptease by any means, but he doesn’t look away when she’s down to her bra, and she doesn’t want him to. He bends down to take off his boots, to line them up next to hers, then bridges the distance between them and leans in for a deep, slow kiss. 

It’s not long before they both sink down onto the bed, and her fingers slip open the button of her jeans, then hesitate, wait at the button of his. She looks up at him, and the confirmation is all but written there, in the darkness of his eyes, the swipe of his tongue over his lips, but she needs to be sure. 

“I want you, all of you,” she murmurs, and then she brushes a hand through his hair, leans in to just rest her mouth against his. It’s delicate like the first time, but full of meaning, and he presses up into her kiss. “Do you want this?” 

“I want this. You. All—all of you.” He nods, licks his lips again, eyes softer but no less hungry, and she flicks open the button and kisses him like she did in the truck: hands on his body, in his hair, her breath all his. 

They don’t part, not really, just fall back against the pillows and tug at clothing, pressing kisses to throats and palms. His t-shirt drops to the bedroom floor, then her jeans and underwear, his, and the room is quiet except for the sounds of eager, wet kisses and soft, needy moans. 

She sits up, reaches back to unclasp her bra, and Jacob drags the strap down her shoulder, helps her take it off, leaving it somewhere in the bed; his mouth moves to hers, then down her neck, over her collarbone, and finally caresses each nipple with a gentle reverence that makes her ache all over.  

“You’re still sure?” he asks when she is shaking beneath his touch, strong arms wrapped around her back, and she nods and shifts up into his lap. 

When their lips meet, the kiss is hard, and she curls an arm around his shoulders, weaving a hand into his hair. They’re both panting when she leans up, guides him inside her, and when she sinks down it’s like a flash of tingling heat takes over her entire body. 

Jacob groans, holding her securely, thrusting up as she works her thighs above him. They kiss, deep and messy, graceless but passionate, her fingers tugging, his pressing hard into her skin. 

It’s not at all how she’d expected her first time to be; she’d imagined it would be with Edward, of course, and slow, but she can’t get enough of Jacob and it seems like he can’t get enough of her either. She’d imagined a cool, pale body above her, but it’s Jacob’s deep, rich, hot skin she presses her lips to, her fingernails against. She’d expected Edward’s hard, marble arms around her, and while Jacob is strong and firm he’s still soft, skin slick with sweat as they move together. 

“Jake,” she murmurs, the taste of him on her lips, his scent in her nose, woodsy, clean. “Jacob.” Her body trembles and he holds her tighter, presses his face into her neck. 

“I’ve got you.” She sighs happily at that, grabs his hair more roughly, rides him faster. 

“You’ve got me. You’ve always got me.” 

Jacob looks up at her, eyes fiery, liquid, then pulls her in with a hand on the back of her neck and kisses her like the first time—soft, nervous, sweet. The juxtaposition of that gentle kiss and his possessive grip makes her dizzy, and when he pulls back his face is all she can see, all she wants to see, all she needs.

“I’ve always got you,” he promises, his gaze tender, unflinching. “Always.”

He’s got her when he comes, holding her tightly with one thick forearm and dragging his free hand over her breasts, then lower, to rub her clit as she bounces herself to climax in his grasp. “Oh, god,” she breathes, voice like a shiver, and her fingernails dig half-moons into his biceps as they both slow, slow, slow, then stop altogether.

He eases them both down against the bed, arms around her, their legs entwined, and they catch their breath, just look at each other until the exhaustion of the day catches up to her. Her eyes flutter closed, and pressed so close to him, so warm, all she can do is sleep.

When she wakes, it’s still mostly dark, and she desperately needs to clean up in the bathroom and get a glass of water. Jacob’s t-shirt is the first piece of clothing she sees—or the first she wants to see—and she pulls it over her head and pads to the bathroom for a human moment—a very human moment indeed. 

She pauses, while washing her hands, to look over her reflection in the mirror. Rationally, she knows nothing has really changed, but at the same time everything has. 

The bathroom water is never cold enough to drink, so she treads down the stairs, across the kitchen, turns on the tap and lets it run until the water is icy and crisp. She fills a glass, takes a couple of sips, then almost drops it when a cool hand is suddenly pressed to her shoulder. 

It’s Alice, and she uses her other hand to catch the glass before it can hit the floor and shatter. 

“Relax. It’s just me.” Her eyes are soft, and it’s clear she is happy to see her, but there’s something else in her expression, something inquisitive. “You’re alright.”

“I’m fine. I’m… good, actually.” She shrugs, which bares her shoulder, in the large t-shirt she wears, that she’d forgotten she was wearing. She freezes—she knows how she must smell to Alice, like Jacob and like… Jacob—but her friend just shakes her head. 

“I couldn’t see you; well, I saw you jump off a cliff, and then you were gone. I thought you died.” 

“Alive and well,” she says with a tone that’s hoping for lighthearted, but… 

She has no regrets about being with Jacob, not one—she just hadn’t expected to be confronted with a vampire she once considered a sister almost immediately after. She doesn’t know what to say right now, how to act. Who to be.

“I was cliff jumping, recreationally. It was fun... for a minute.” Alice rolls her eyes, but it’s clear she’s happy she’s unharmed—though perhaps irritated by her tendency toward life-threatening idiocy.

“That doesn’t explain why I couldn’t see you, why your whole future went black.” Her golden eyes stare seriously, unblinking for a moment, and then she looks away. “Though maybe I owe that to the wolf in your bed.” 

Of all the nights for Alice to come back to Forks, she thinks, a suddenly uncomfortable pit in her stomach. Then she hears footsteps on the stairs.

“Not in her bed anymore,” Jacob says, voice low, from the doorway to the kitchen; he takes half a step forward, an aborted move, like he wants to put himself in between them. 

“This is Alice, Edward’s sister. Alice, this is Jacob,” she explains, trying not to focus on his shirtless torso, or the pained expression on his face. She blows out a deep breath. “It’s okay. She won’t hurt me.” 

“She’s hurt you before,” he counters, no doubt remembering every heartbroken, aching expression she’d worn in the months prior. He takes a step closer, so he is next to her, his forearm grazing hers, and Alice takes a step back. “I’d like to stick around, if it’s all the same to you.” 

He’s posturing, that much is clear, but she can't find it in herself to be irritated, because at least he’s giving her the option, letting her choose.

“I thought you couldn’t protect me here,” she says, turning her face up to look at him, and Jacob’s response makes heat pool low in her belly, just like the night before. 

“There is nowhere in this world I won’t protect you—treaty or no treaty.” 

She wants so badly to kiss him, but Alice is there, Alice, right in front of her after all this time, and she’s conflicted. Torn. He can tell, she knows, but he doesn’t take it personally, just reaches up to scratch his head, sighs. 

“So are more of you coming? Is–is he…?” 

���I came alone. And no,” Alice replies after a moment, but she’s looking at her instead, probably knows that he’s just saying what she’s too worried to ask. “He only calls in once every few months. Says he wants to be alone.” Jacob scoffs.

“Great. He wants to be alone, so you all leave her behind, unprotected? That red headed vampire is after her because of him.” 

That gets a reaction out of Alice, whose eyes darken protectively.

“Who, Victoria? I haven’t seen her.” She stares off into the distance, like she’s searching for memories, visions, sifting through what she’s seen and trying to piece together what she hasn’t. “Just like I didn’t see you get pulled out of the water. There’s a lot I haven’t seen, apparently,” she adds under her breath, and the other girl presses her lips together, sighs. 

Not the time or place for this discussion, and they both know it, but that doesn’t mean it’s avoidable for long. 

“So you can’t see around Jacob. The wolves,” she guesses. “I’ve been with them a lot lately.”

“With him a lot lately,” Alice corrects. Jacob huffs, but it’s not untrue, so she lets her think what she wants. Her silence must speak volumes, because Alice takes a deep, wholly unnecessary breath, and gestures toward the door. “Should I go?” 

“Please don’t,” she says quickly, nearly begging. It’s the first she’s seen of Alice in almost a year and she cannot let her leave as abruptly as she’d shown up. “If you could just give us a minute…” 

“Take two,” the vampire says, and it’s with a half-smile that turns into a smirk. “I’ll go Febreze the living room while I wait: it smells like wet dog.” She turns to leave, a bounce in her step that the other girl can’t help laughing at, shaking her head. 

She sobers up when Jacob turns toward her, takes a step that moves the both of them, so her back is pressed up against the kitchen counter. He looks so serious, and her heart beats for him everywhere. 

“Do you believe her? When she says she came alone?” he asks, and she tilts her head, nods softly. 

“Of course I believe her. She just had to make sure I was okay, that’s all. There’s… there’s nothing for them here.” 

Even as she says the words, she hopes they’re not true—hopes that, even if they really aren’t meant to be together, that she and Edward, she and the Cullens, can still be… Friends isn’t really a strong enough word, but she wants them in her life, potential bloody accidents be damned. 

“So if he came back,” Jacob says, leaning in closer, his lips hovering over hers, “you wouldn’t go to him?” His tone is light, but she understands the weight of his question, takes a moment to find the right words to answer it. 

“If he came back, I’d want to see him. Just like I want to see Alice.” She reaches out to touch him, his warm, bare skin, places her palm over his thumping heart. “But I wouldn’t go to him. Not like this.” 

It’s true, and she wants to say more, to promise him, reassure him, but just after she says it, the landline rings. Jacob sighs, his breath on her cheek, and reaches out a hand to answer it. “Hello?” The person on the other end speaks in a low tone she can’t make out, but she can see the tick in Jacob’s jaw, a hard set to his eyes. “He isn’t here right now, but that’s not who you really want, is it?” 

There’s another moment of conversation she can’t hear, and Alice walks into the room looking stunned; Jacob hands the other girl the receiver, and she looks from him to Alice and then speaks into the phone. “Hello?” 

“You’re alright.” 

It’s Edward, his voice cool and smooth but thick with emotion. It makes butterflies flutter around in her stomach, just like it used to. 

“I’m alright.” She doesn’t give him more than he asks for, doesn’t take more than he offers. She’s aware of two sets of eyes on her, feels more nervous than before, in her oversized t-shirt and sleep-mussed hair.

She’s glad he can’t see her and wonders exactly what that means.

“Good. Rosalie said Alice had a vision…” He trails off, but they both know what he’s not saying: everyone thought she’d given up and killed herself. She crosses her arms.

“The vision was incomplete. I’m fine. Stupid, but fine.” Edward huffs a laugh down the line, and she can imagine the exact cant of his mouth, the glimmer in his eye that always seemed to be reserved for her.

“You are many things, but stupid is not one of them.” There’s more he wants to say, she can tell; as a man of few words, many of their conversations were punctuated with heavy, meaningful silence. Part of her wishes she could see his face, at least. That always helped. “Who answered the phone? Jacob?”

She looks up at him involuntarily, notes the tightness of his mouth, his arms folded in front of his bare chest. 

“Yes, Jacob. He’s the one who pulled me out of the water, the one Alice didn’t see.” 

“Hmm. He still doesn’t seem to like me much.” Her lips turn up at that—understatement of the century—and she wonders if Jake can hear him too. Based on the stoic expression he wears, he either can’t, or he’s not paying attention. 

“No he does not.” A beat passes, then two. “You should call your family more often, go see them. They miss you.” 

“It’s difficult,” he says, swallowing, and she nods at no one. 

“I know, but don’t punish them. Please.” She knows how it feels, to be totally cut off from people she loves, to constantly wonder, always fear the worst; she doesn’t say it because she knows he knows.

“I’ll consider it, if you don’t go jumping off those cliffs any time soon.” She laughs softly, surprised at his humor; this was not how she would have ever anticipated a call like this to go, but she likes it. Likes them, like this. 

“Deal. Alice is looking at me like she’s going to steal the phone any moment,” she warns, which is putting it mildly. “So I’m going to put her on. You can call when it’s not life or death, you know,” she adds quietly. “It would be nice to hear from you. If you ever want to talk.” 

She doesn’t know if he responds, because Alice takes the receiver, winds the cord around her arm, and scolds her brother with love in the way only a sister can manage. 

While they talk, she walks toward Jacob, then past him, toward the staircase, but she takes hold of his hand as she goes, and he follows just like the night before. This time, he closes the bedroom door behind them. 

“I’m sorry this happened like this,” she says, sitting down on the bed, one leg beneath her and the other hanging over the edge. “I’m not sorry Alice is here, but I’m sorry that’s what you woke up to. If you were… worried.” Jacob takes the space next to her atop the rumpled duvet. 

“I was worried when I smelled a bloodsu- vampire,” he corrects quickly, “and you weren’t beside me.”

“I’m sorry,” she says again, this time leaning closer. “But thank you for giving me the phone, letting me talk to him. I’m sure that wasn’t easy.” He shrugs, like it was no big deal, even though she remembers how angry he’d looked at the sound of Edward’s voice. 

“I almost didn’t. I mean, technically, he didn’t ask for you.” She rolls her eyes—definitely guy logic—then stands up, scoops his jeans off the floor and hands them over to him. Her face heats at the memory of removing them in the first place, but she snaps out of that for her own sake and grabs fresh clothes, steps into the bathroom to make herself presentable.

When she’s done, she heads back to her bedroom, where Jacob is now clad in jeans and boots, sitting shirtless on her bed. She deposits the borrowed t-shirt onto his lap, and when he thinks she’s not looking he brings it to his nose, inhales long and slow, before pulling it over his head.

That action does things to her, and she wishes for a moment that she had his senses, so she could smell the two of them the same way he does, their scents deeply saturated and blended together.

They head downstairs when they’re both dressed, and while he rummages in the refrigerator for something to make them for breakfast, she treads into the living room and sits down next to Alice on the couch. 

“So,” Alice says, and then she gestures to a cup of tea. The other girl picks up the mug and thanks her, brings it to her lips. “How long has that been going on?” 

She feels her cheeks heat, and she hides behind another sip of tea. 

“Really? I haven’t seen you in almost a year and that’s what you want to talk about?” 

“Oh, forgive me for being curious about what it’s like to date a werewolf when last I saw you were grieving the loss of my brother.” Alice’s tone is more playful than it would seem, and her eyes smile even if her lips don’t. 

She always knew that Edward wasn’t telling the truth when he said he didn’t want her. He just couldn’t bear it, knowing that being with him put her in so much danger, caused her so much pain. She knew it was worth it, but if he didn’t… there’s nothing she could have done to change his mind, she knows that now. She can’t feel guilty for moving on when it’s exactly what he’d wanted her to do in the first place. 

“Okay, you’re right. Let’s talk about how I’m going to comb the woods, find Victoria, and rip her into confetti for threatening to hurt you.” 

“You don’t have to do that,” Jacob says, walking into the room with… a cup of tea. He looks over at the mug in her hand, then sets the one he brought her down on the table without a word. “The pack’s got it covered.” 

“All due respect, but if the pack had it covered, she wouldn’t be a threat anymore, would she?” Alice tosses over her shoulder. The other girl sets her tea down and sighs. 

“Alright, can we not do this? The age-old vampires versus werewolves thing? Especially if I’m in the middle of it. Maybe you guys could work together for a change; Alice can’t protect this part of the territory all by herself.” She picks up her drink—a drink, the one Jacob made, this time—and takes a long sip, looks up at them over the rim of the mug. 

“The pack could help, if you give us the authority to amend the treaty,” Jacob says to Alice, though he’s kind of looking at the ceiling, his arms crossed. “But wherever she is, I’ll be.” 

“You can’t be with her every second,” Alice counters, and her exasperation makes it  sound like an argument she’s had before. “It’s not good for either of you and could put her in danger; if Victoria picks up on it, she’ll be able to use your scent to track her anywhere. Trust me, yours is a lot stronger than hers is, and it’s all over her.” 

She thinks Jacob makes some kind of noise, like a low growl in the very back of his throat, but it’s hard to hear. Alice raises her eyebrows like she’s trying not to roll her eyes. 

The three of them discuss potential ways to coordinate with the pack, and Alice mentions calling in Emmett and Jasper to see if they could help with the search; the sooner Victoria is gone, the better, is the general consensus, and Jacob thinks he can get Sam on board with that as well, even if it means more Cullens coming back to town. 

She finishes both cups of tea, then a plate of eggs and toast Jacob put together from the bare-bones contents of her kitchen—she reminds herself to make a shopping list, then absently wonders if she’ll have a grand escort to Trader Joe’s. 

“I’ll make some calls while you’re gone,” Alice says as she is taking her last bite; she looks up from her plate, confused, and Alice waves a hand. “I saw a glimpse of you at the grocery store, but then it went dark; I assume that means he’s going with you.”

“I thought about it for a split second, as a joke,” she clarifies with a huff of laughter. “I don’t think I need a bodyguard in the produce aisle at eight AM.”

“Better safe than sorry,” Alice and Jacob say, at the same time, and her lips twitch in amusement. 

Looks like they’re not so different, in the end.

She gives in and allows Jacob to drive her to the supermarket, though not without a long look from Alice as he walks her to the truck with his hand on the small of her back. 

They breeze through the store thanks to the list in her head—she buys a little more than she usually would, because it seems like Jacob plans to be around. She likes the thought of that even more than she’d expected, likes choosing things solely because she knows he’ll enjoy them.

“I think we should talk about last night,” Jacob says, voice low, when they’re nearly back to her house. She cringes internally, because that’s never a sentence a girl wants to hear after a night like that, and he clears his throat. “I know cliff jumping ended up being kind of traumatic for you, and it didn’t feel like it last night, but if I took advantage…”

He looks over at her, his expression pained, and she shifts closer and wraps her hand around his forearm.

“God, no, Jake—that’s not what happened.” He brings the truck to a stop in her driveway, puts it in park, and she presses her palm to his cheek so he’ll focus on her instead of fixing his gaze out the window. “I wanted everything, every moment. I still want it,” she murmurs, and he looks over her face like he’s still not quite sure he believes it.

“You do? Even after… after you spoke to him, and everything?” It’s a fair question, and again, one she answers very carefully.

“I think we needed to talk, he and I, but it didn’t change anything. You’re the one who changed everything,” she admits softly, tentatively, wetting her lips. She hopes her eyes convey the certainty her voice can’t seem to. “Do you want to kiss me?” she breathes, leaning closer, her fingers winding a path through his hair, and he nods his head and presses his mouth to hers. 

She gets up on her knees so she can be closer to him, but she doesn’t climb into his lap like before—she does have some self-restraint, despite what it may seem. She curls one arm around the muscles of his back, pulls him in for more contact with the hand in his hair, and it’s a few minutes later when she remembers they’ve got bags of perishable groceries in the back and a vampire with excellent acoustic abilities just inside her home. 

She pulls back, smiles a little at the soft, unfocused look on his face, then runs her hand down his chest before lifting it away entirely.

“I know we’re kind of at DEFCON 1 right now, but more of that a little later would be nice.” 

“Hmm. Very nice,” he agrees with a nod, his voice slightly rough, and he turns off the ignition and carries all of her groceries into the kitchen with one strong arm. 

Emmett and Jasper do come back, with Rosalie and Esme, to her delight and Jacob’s discomfort. Between the pack, who comes to get the vampires’ scents so there’s no friendly fire, and the family, who split time between her house and the one they left behind, the place is a revolving door of the supernatural for the next few days. 

All of them take turns watching over her house at night, while the others patrol the woods. She catches up with everyone she’s been separated from—even Jasper gives her a crushing hug, so at least the time away was good for something—and it’s wonderful, but it means there’s not much time to be with Jacob aside from planning sessions and the occasional quick check in. The most time she spends with him is when they attend Harry’s funeral, something somber and intimate, with ethereal music and a glowing campfire and endless stories about the Clearwater line. 

She is introduced to Leah and Seth, Harry’s children, and while Seth seems welcoming and friendly his sister is cold, standoffish—though not without reason, she soon learns from the pack. 

“She’s not always like that… mostly just when she’s around Sam,” Embry says where they stand on the edge of the forest, away from the thick smoke that burns her very human eyes. She looks over at the pack leader at the mention of his name. “Now that she’s part of the pack, we have to live the Leah/Sam/Emily painfest all over again.” 

She turns back to him, to Quil, who’s standing beside him, and tilts her head, curious.

“I don’t think I follow—Sam left Leah for Emily?”

“Well, yeah, but it’s not what you think. He hates himself for hurting her, but he couldn’t help it. Emily was ‘the one.’” Quil says it almost sarcastically, with air quotes for emphasis, and she frowns.

“The one?” She doesn’t mean to sound skeptical, but these days she’s not as big a fan of providence and destiny as she used to be.

“Sam imprinted on Emily. It’s kind of like… soulmates, but bigger. Cosmic. They were literally meant to be together.”

“Like fate,” she says, filling in that blank, and then a large, warm hand is splayed across her back, fingertips pressing into the fabric of her dress. 

“We make our own fate around here,” Jacob says tightly, and she looks up, regards him curiously. He’s not just upset about Harry, or Victoria… there’s got to be something else making his jaw tense, his eyes hard. “And I think that’s more than enough of the pack soap opera for tonight. Are you ready to go home?” 

He turns his gaze to her, and it softens, for which she is grateful; he is her guardian on duty tonight, and despite the solemn evening—or maybe because of it—she wants to spend the night as close to him as she possibly can.

She nods, and after they say their goodbyes he walks her to the truck, opens the door for her, closing it carefully when she’s safely inside. He takes the spot behind the driver’s seat—his usual, now—but doesn’t drive straight to her house like she expects. 

“Ice cream?” she asks when he turns off the engine outside of a mom and pop shop selling sundaes, cones, and shakes. She exits the car at his indication, and the two of them walk hand in hand up to the illuminated window that says Order Here. An older couple is ahead of them, pointing at the chalk menu board, and Jacob leans in to speak in a hushed tone. 

“This place was Harry’s favorite. You like chocolate, right?” 

“Has anyone ever answered ‘no’ to that question?” she asks softly, playfully, and it works as intended, lightens the mood just enough to bring a brilliant smile to his painfully beautiful face. “I think this is a wonderful way to remember him, Jake.” She wraps a comforting arm around his, and Jacob nods, lips pressed together, eyes sad.

“Just kind of feels right.” 

He orders for them when it’s their turn, two waffle cones with two scoops of chocolate ice cream each, and they sit at a picnic table on the side of the building, eating their tributes with heavy hearts and looking up at the stars.

The ride home is quiet, contemplative, at least for her; by the time they arrive she has been running through thoughts of mortality, finality, how short life is and how very precious. 

These are all normal thoughts for a person to have, and certainly after a celebration of life like the one on the reservation tonight, but she thinks seriously for the first time about Jacob and his desperate need to protect her, the way he puts himself in danger—stupidly, recklessly, completely—every day to keep her safe.

When they’ve made it inside, she exhales deeply, looks up into earnest, curious eyes, and wraps her arms around him, presses close so she can bury her nose in his clothing.

She breathes him in long and slow, his usual scent of crisp air and rain and oak dulled by the smoke of the bonfire, and then his hands are in her hair, tipping her face up for a decadent, passionate kiss. 

God, how is he so good at this? she thinks as he sips at her lips, glides his own down the tender line of her throat. She sighs and grabs for his arms, something to ground her as her desire threatens to take over, to leave her a whimpering, begging mess beneath his hands. 

Jacob turns them so she’s got her back to the kitchen table, sets her on top of it, and she parts her knees for him, pulls him closer. Her fingers itch with the need to touch his skin, so she tugs at the hem of his shirt and gets her hands beneath it, skims them over the taut muscles of his bare back. 

“I can take it off,” he murmurs against her neck, and she nods breathlessly and helps him pull it over his head. His hands bracket her hips, palms flat on the table, and her arms curve up around his back, bringing him closer; she kisses him eagerly anywhere she can reach—his throat, shoulders, face, everywhere.

She whispers his name into his own skin, presses her lips to his biceps, scrapes her teeth over the lobe of his ear, and he shudders at her touch, tilts his head to look up at her, his eyes dark and almost… dangerous.

What does it say about her, that she finds that look so goddamn attractive?

“I’m sorry, I—I need a minute,” he says, panting through gritted teeth, and she lets her hands fall away, leaning back a little to give him space to breathe.

“Take all the time you need,” she assures him calmly, patiently. It’s the first time she’s ever seen his wolf so close to the surface, and she’s completely unafraid, would hold him and help him ride out the tension in his body if she thought he would let her. “It’s just us, Jake, just me and you.” 

“Just us,” he repeats, his fists clenching and unclenching, taking a long breath with his eyes closed. She breathes with him, has always found that helpful when she herself is overwhelmed, and after a few moments he presses closer and she runs a soothing hand over his chest. “I’m okay,” he says eventually, leaning in slowly for a kiss as though he’s afraid it will be rejected. She brings her hands to his face, deepens it, so it’s still soft and easy but with enough meaning behind it to convey her thoughts. 

“I know,” she murmurs, just to be certain he believes her. “You did so good; so good, Jake.” He nods, pulls back a little so he can look into her eyes. 

“It’s not that I can’t control it, I can, but…” He looks away for a moment, swipes his tongue over his lips. “The instincts are so strong and I don’t always want to fight them. Sometimes when I’m with you, I want to let the wolf win.” He says it like he’s ashamed, and she puts her arm around his shoulders and brings him down for another kiss, this one just a gentle press of mouths.

“I understand that more than you think I do.” His breath on her lips makes her crave more of his heat, but she knows it has to be slow now, or he’ll get too in his head and never let himself enjoy their night together. “I may not be supernaturally inclined, but sometimes making decisions with my body is all I want to do. Especially with you,” she adds, just a sigh between them, then touches their foreheads together. 

They stay like that for a moment, embracing in their own way, until he initiates a kiss that is so thorough it makes her toes curl. She brings her hands to his waist, guides him closer, and he rests a broad palm at the base of her throat and kisses her, again, and again, and again. 

Her arms curl around his body the second they separate for air, and he lifts her from the table, carries her up the stairs with an ease that makes her long for more frequent displays of his strength. 

Getting his clothes off is quick enough, since he’s already shirtless, and his hands are tender and gentle as he sweeps her hair away from her neck, pulls down the zipper of her dress, slides it off her bare shoulders. 

Neither of them bother to pull back the covers, simply lay back on the bed, her knees apart again, Jacob hovering between them and letting his eyes move over her like he’s committing her body to memory. It makes a wave of heat rush through her, and since tonight is less hurried she does the same, lingers over every curve of muscle, every sharp line of bone. He leans in, lays an arm behind her head, glides his lips over her jaw, her cheek, her mouth.

“I was right, before,” she says after another satisfying kiss, letting her fingers press into the flesh of his hips. He looks into her eyes, tilts his head curiously, and she smiles a little, can’t help herself. “You really are beautiful.” 

Jake breathes a laugh, even blushes a little, then kisses her until they’re both panting; her fingertips press harder when he pushes inside, then glide up his back to keep him close while the two of them move together. 

Jacob feels so different this way, is so much deeper, filling her in a way that makes it so she really can’t tell where she ends and he begins. He is heavy on top of her, but not uncomfortably so, and when her body shifts up the bed with every thrust it’s thrilling, incredible—she’s never felt so much in her life.

His face is serious, eyes focused, and she weaves her fingers into his hair and catches his lips in a kiss, moans into the end of it when he finds a spot inside of her that takes her breath away. 

“Oh, god, Jake.” He leans in for another kiss, deep and wet, nods against her lips. 

“You’re perfect—so perfect,” he huffs, breathless; he moves his hand to her hip, runs it over her stomach, then presses his palms to the bed and repeats his previous motion, over and over, her body coiling tight with pleasure. “Can’t believe I get this.” 

“We get this,” she corrects in a whisper, won’t let him think for one second that she’s not as completely in awe of him as he seems to be of her. She skims her nails over his lower back, his ass, tightens her thighs on either side of him and tips her head back just as he makes her come. “Don’t stop, Jake, please,” she whines, shaking, holding him so tightly with her entire body—she never wants it to end, never wants to be separated from him again, and he agrees, if the way his body presses down on hers is any indication. 

“Can’t stop… need you,” he groans, pushing her leg up further, so he feels almost impossibly thick and deep. Her arms wrap around his back, pulling him closer, holding him there as he ruts into her, scorching flesh pressed against flesh. 

“Yes, oh—”

Before she knows it she’s quaking again, gasping when he brings his teeth to her throat, scrapes them over her throbbing pulse. He growls in her ear, a deep, low, animalistic rumble she can feel in her stomach, then comes inside, claiming her with a broken, raspy, “mine.”

He lays half on top of her, half on the bed, after, their skin soft and damp with cooling sweat. She can’t stop looking at his face, his dark eyes, sharp jaw, and he cups her cheek with a gentle palm and gazes just as intently at her. 

“Come here,” she murmurs, a soft smile on her lips, and he kisses her slowly, makes her sigh with a pleasure so complete—mentally, physically, spiritually—it feels like she’ll never be the same. 

He gets up after a moment, comes back with a glass of water and a towel, and helps her clean up well enough to hold her over until she’s ready to get out of bed. She pulls the covers back while he’s gone, slides in between the cool sheets, and he follows her lead, pressing close to her beneath them.

“Are you upset you didn’t imprint on me?” she asks carefully, propping herself up on her elbow and using the other hand to run fingers through his hair. “I noticed that when the guys were talking about it, you got kind of tense.” He shrugs slightly before shaking his head.

“No, not upset… I was just so sure you were meant for me; I really thought it would happen sooner or later.” She understands that, can picture him wishing and waiting for something that would never come to pass. So patient, her Jacob.

“Do you wish it had? Do you think it would make this more real?” Her hand moves from his hair to his collarbone, down his chest, over his stomach, so very low. “Because when I’m touching you like this… nothing has ever felt so real.” 

He presses her against the bed, hovers over her, kisses her breathless, and it goes without saying that he agrees with every word she says. She softens beneath him, tired and pleased, and he shifts into a more comfortable position, laying behind her, that she knows means sleep for the both of them. He drapes an arm over her, and she draws circles into his skin with her fingertips, feels his warm breath on her neck, closes her eyes and revels in the weight of him at her back.

“Anyway,” she whispers, one last thought on her mind before she succumbs to sleep, “I almost think it’s better like this, that we have to fight for each other. No help from fate—just your will and mine.”

A/N: I got my start in fandom spaces by writing Twilight fanfic fifteen years ago, but I never posted it because it was... bad. Last week was a crummy week for me, so I found comfort in watching New Moon, and I literally couldn't help myself from re-writing it in Jacob's favor. There's no Edward hate here, and he'll play a bigger role in the next part I have planned, but Jake took hold of me in this one and didn't let go.

[harlowcomehome]

Orchids and spontaneity: 

Requested by @vanwritesfan-fiction

“Mmm, boring” Jack whispered to himself as he looked at the wide array of flowers in front of him. He wanted to get you something unique and different from your usual bouquet but he wasn’t having any luck.

A tall, blonde woman came from the back of the store eager to help Jack from the moment he walked in but wanted to give him his space for a few moments. She quickly walked up to him, her pony tail swaying back and forth.

Jack saw her coming even without fully looking up at her, he could always tell when he had been spotted.

“Hi! I am so sorry, are you, Jack Harlow?” She was nervous and couldn’t think of another way to engage with him.

“I am” he softly laughed, rarely knowing how to continue the conversation after that.

“Do you need some help finding something?” She was hoping he would say yes, more than anything.

“I’m just waiting for someone, thank you though” Jack smiled, noticing their conversation brought attention to him as the other employees were now gawking from afar.

The employee smiled, before making her way back to the group of girls at the counter.

The front door chimed as Brian, Jack's dad walked inside, the two of them had agreed to go Valentine’s Day shopping together.

“About time you get here” Jack joked as the two of them started looking at flowers.

“Were you waiting long?” Brian noticed the group of girls at the counter giggling as they walked around the shop, flashing them a smile.

“No, not at all. I need your help though, I want to get her something different this year” Jack sighed, knowing that he usually got you the same floral arrangement year after year for several holidays.

“How about I get your mom what you usually get y/n and you get her what I usually get your mom?” Brian knew that would cut flower shopping short and leave more time for whatever else they needed to get done today.

“Orchids aren’t kind of…” he paused “old lady?” Jack questioned, wondering if you’d think so.

“I won’t tell your mom that you said that” Brian chuckled as they both placed their bouquet order at the front desk. All of the workers nervously giggled and helped out as they wanted just a brief interaction with Jack.

••••

When Valentine’s Day came around Jack picked up both bouquets from the flower shop. He was paranoid about his address leaking, rarely having anything delivered to his place.

When he arrived home, he struggled to get inside the door, the bouquet was bigger than usual and took up a lot of room. He let his dad know to come get the bouquet when he was ready, leaving his mothers flowers in his car.

“You weren’t supposed to be home yet!” You giggled from the kitchen as he loudly made an entrance anf placed the bouquet on the coffee table out of your view.

Jack jogged over to the kitchen, wrapping his arms around your waist as he went in for a sloppy passionate kiss.

“Are you making strawberry cupcakes? For little ol’ me?” He joked, making his voice as high-pitched as possible.

“Nothing about you is little” you winked, as you started the electronic mixer to whip the frosting.

“Damn right” he smirked, grabbing a handful of your ass before leaving the room to get your gift.

You finished frosting the cupcakes, placing them on a two-tier display, when Jack ran back into the kitchen.

“Do you trust me?” He had a sinister smile on his face that made you want to say no but you obliged anyway as he covered your eyes and led you to the living room.

There were a few gifts displayed on the couch, but the giant bouquet is what caught your attention first, always loving the flowers he got you.

“Baby! These are gorgeous!” You bent down to smell them, smiling as you looked over at him. You immediately noticed something was off as your eyes began to water, and your chest tightened.

“I wanted to do something different this year” he made room for you to sit beside him on the couch. “Wait, are you crying?” He was concerned that he did something to upset you.

“I think I have an eyelash in my eye” You rubbed the lower lash line with your finger getting mascara on your face. You excused yourself to the bathroom shutting the door quickly, worried he’d realize what you had immediately figured out.

You wheezed as you frantically searched the medicine cabinet for allergy medication, remembering you had left what was left of the allergy tablets in your purse.

Jack knocked on the door, questioning your rash departure. “Is something wrong? Do you hate them? Are they too old lady?” His voice was low and calm, but his tone was failing at masking the sadness he felt.

You slowly opened the door, revealing that you had a soggy piece of tissue hanging out of one nostril.

Jack couldn’t contain himself, leaning forward as he chuckled at the sight before him.

“Sweetheart, what’s going on?” His hands instinctively cupped your face as he looked at you with worried eyes and a pouty lip.

“I think I’m allergic to those flowers” you sniffled, feeling a sneeze building up. You didn’t have enough warning time to turn away before sneezing on Jack's face.

He immediately pulled away from you, his eyes closed as he tried to hide the look of disgust as best he could.

“Ummm- bless you?” He was trying to be nice but the germaphobe in him wanted to scream and taking a scalding hot shower.

“Babe! I’m so sorry!” You were frozen as he finally gained composure enough to open one eye to find and grab the bouquet from off the table.

He used the inside of his shirt to wipe his face before walking toward the front door. “It’s okay, it’s fine”’ he was still in shock but didn’t want you to feel bad.

“I still have my mom’s bouquet in the car, I’m going to switch them out” he was frantically trying to make his way out of the house and to the car.

You leaned against the bathroom doorframe, trying to hold a laugh in, knowing you had most definitely picked a good one.

[thewulf]

Honeybee || Aaron Hotchner

Summary: hi! Can you write a hotch x reader one shot based on the episode where Hayley’s dad says he still hates Hotch for Hayley’s death in s10 and obviously his words hurt Hotch and hotch then is like obviously really sad and hurt and pulls away from reader unintentionally which starts a argument but with fluff at the end? Like angst / fluff

A/N: Okay this def turned more into a comfort/fluff rather than super angsty/fluff... hope you still like it anon :)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Y/N

Word Count: 3.1k +

Your phone buzzed on the desk that you were working away at. Not thinking much of it you turned it over seeing Aaron’s name flashing on the screen. Heart sinking down your chest you knew it was never a good thing when he called during the middle of a workday. Was it Jack? Was he hurt? Was it Jessica? Does she need some time away from the whole situation? Before you could spiral any further you answered nervously, “Aaron…” Trailing off you didn’t know what to say. You knew what you were getting into when you happily agreed to be his girlfriend six months ago. But these calls still made you nervous.

“Honey… slight change of plans.” You knew he was supposed to be on a flight to Maryland right now working on the next case. He was definitely not supposed to be on the phone with you in what sounded to be like his vehicle.

“Everything alright?” Hesitating to even ask the question you could hear the tension in his voice.

He paused. Everything was certainly not alright, “It’s Roy. Haley’s father. He’s in the hospital. He was arrested for trying to break and enter into a store this morning. Doctors think it’s Alzheimer’s. Jessica needs some help.” He alluded to why he wasn’t on the teams jet to Maryland.

Your heart absolutely broke for the man you’d slowly fallen in love with. He’d been through so much in the last few years and now this? It’s like life was out to get him and couldn’t be stopped, “Oh, my love, I’m so sorry.” Work didn’t seem so important anymore, “Can I help at all?”

He smiled softly hearing your concern through the phone. He just knew by the tone of your voice how much you cared. You cared about everything that related to him. You always understood too. He had to cancel on countless plans on you due to work or something coming up with Jack. You always handled it in grace. He thought you were far too patient with him. And it scared him a little much. What happens when your patience runs out? Would he fuck it up with you? He hadn’t a clue how he managed to convince you to not only go out with him but stay through the shit-show that his life was unfolding out to be.

Aaron never expected for his personal life to explode in his face the way it did so dramatically. He had let the one thing he promised never to happen, happen. His work life bled into his personal one. He’d lost the mother to his son. A woman he once loved so dearly to somebody who had it out for him. It took years of counseling and therapy for Aaron to see it as anything but his fault. Then you came along. Sweeping him right off his feet. He didn’t think he was ready for a relationship, but he decided to try. Especially when he saw the look on your face when he agreed to that first date. Of course, you made the first move, it was so you.

He hated asking you for help, but he needed it desperately. He always used you as an absolute last resort. Never wanting you to feel obligated to his life’s mess, “Can you grab Jack from school? I left the car seat in the house for Jess but she’s going to be busy. I’m going to stay back and help. Team is heading off to Maryland right now.” You heard him sigh through the phone.

“You got it.” You knew the situation was tense, but you couldn’t stop the smile that now crossed your face. It was a big step getting him to accept your help. He often went out of his way to not ask you for help. He didn’t want to burden you, “Jack and I will have the best afternoon.” You said trying your best to reassure him.

“Thank you honey. I’m so sorry. I really am.” Not wanting him to spiral you decided to interrupt him.

“Don’t apologize Aaron. It’s something out of your control. I’m more than happy to help. Please don’t stress yourself out about it. Your team will handle the case in Maryland, I’ll handle Jack. You and Jess help out Roy. Okay?” Knowing you needed to lay out the plan plain and simple for him you were met with silence this time.

“Sound okay Aaron?” You asked again hoping he wasn’t too far lost in his head.

“Yeah, alright. Thank you.”

“You got it. Call me later alright? When you get the chance.”

He nodded his head knowing you couldn’t see him. He knew he needed to give in and let you help but it was hard for him. He was so used to doing everything his way. But for his sanity and Jack’s he knew he had to let you all the way in. Had to, “Sounds good bee. I love you.”

You smiled at the nickname he had given you. He’d initially just called you honey which then morphed into honeybee. That was then shorted to just bee. His bee. His favorite one. You found it adorable, no other man had been so sweet to you like he had been.

“Love you handsome. Talk to you soon.” You clicked the phone off before the inevitable back and forth. Looking at the clock you cursed a little knowing Jack’s school was 45 minutes away and he was out in about an hour. Saying a quick goodbye to your coworkers you slid out of the office an hour too early. You decided to risk it knowing the bosses wouldn’t even likely notice.

Standing outside your car you stood on your tip toes trying to spot the little Hotchner. Knowing he’d be looking for Jess and not you. Waving to him as soon as you saw him he shot you the sweetest little smile and wave before running up to you, “Y/N! You’re here!” He pulled on your shirt in excitement.

Leaning down you gave him a squeeze, “I am buddy! Your Aunt Jess had something come up, so she asked me to come get you. Hope that’s okay.” You grinned down at the overexcited little boy. You and Jack got along so well so quick. He was the happiest little kid for everything he’s had to go through in his short life.

“Yeah!” He hugged your side squeezing tight, “I’m so excited!”

He immediately released the tension you had been holding onto all day. You’d texted Aaron a few times with no response. Worry quickly consumed you by hour three of not hearing back from him. Thankfully Jack was the perfect distraction from your worrying mind, “Hey Jack? What do you say we go home. Get you changed and head to the park. Maybe get some ice cream after?” You asked him as you buckled him into the car seat.

“Are you serious?” His eye grew wide with excitement, “Can I bring my dinosaurs?”

The grin turned into a full out smile feeling his excitement through your body, “You can absolutely bring your dinosaurs to the park little J.”

“Daddy never lets me!” He started laughing knowing he caught you in a catch 22. You’d already told him he could bring them knowing it wasn’t usually allowed.

Shaking your head, you shut the door before climbing into the driver’s seat, “Well, let’s not tell daddy then.” Hearing his snicker in the back seat sent you into a fit of laughter. Who knew one so little could make you feel so much better just through the joy he brought? That was Jack Hotchner. The little light that kept shining.

“Okay!” He clapped his hands together knowing the two of you now had a secret. You knew it wasn’t a great thing for him to pick up on but what was a little white lie? That’s life.

The two of you chatted the entire way home from school and to the park. You’d learned his best friend, Dylan, had a crush on a girl that Jack thought was gross. You tried convincing him that girls weren’t gross, but he wasn’t having any of that.

Jack was too smart for his own good. He told you about how he watched the other kids and always knew what they were going to do before they seemed to know. That was all Aaron shining right through his baby. It amazed you how quickly children picked up on their environment. Jack was no exception, the sponge that he was.

Lucky for you, all the running around with dinosaur’s tired the poor kid right on out. After making him some mac and cheese for dinner he fell asleep right on your lap while watching cartoons. It all felt so right. A domestic life you craved. To be running your hands through his hair as he held on to you fast asleep.

You were woken up by the soft click of the front door. The daylight had completely vanished. Aaron turned on the kitchen lights not expecting to see you and Jack cuddling on the couch just a room away. For as awful as the day had turned out to be the sight before him made him realize it would be okay. He had the right people in his life. He had you.

His sour mood from the shitty day immediately vanishing seeing your sleepy face waking up. Your arms were holding Jack tightly as you contorted making sure he was comfortable. He noticed that. You were always making sure that Jack was okay. You always checked in on him making sure to show that his opinions mattered. He genuinely mattered to you. Just one of the things that made Aaron fall so easily in love with you.

“Hey, you’re home.” You wiped the sleep away from your eyes careful not to wake Jack up. Peeking at the clock you saw it was nearing midnight.

“I’m sorry…” He whispered walking over to the both of you quietly. You shook your head quickly placing your finger over your mouth, “Shh, no apologies needed.” Carefully you shimmied yourself out from underneath Jack. Scooping him up in your arms you went to go put him to bed. Aaron watched in awe as you took control of the situation so effortlessly. Following behind closely he wanted to make sure to tuck his son in as well. While Jack might not have remembered it Aaron cherished every night he was able to spend at home with him sleeping a few rooms away. Even if it was for just a few hours.

You watched as Aaron leaned down whispering a few words to his sleeping boy. He kissed his head softly before pulling the comforter up over top of him. You fell in love with him even further watching the tenderness of the situation before you. Sure, Aaron had his flaws. But so did you. And everyone. Everything else about him made up for the flaws.

Shutting the door behind him you followed Aaron back downstairs, “Everything alright?” You asked moving towards him. Thankfully he didn’t shy away from your touch. Sometimes after more stressful cases he just couldn’t be touched by you. It was all too much for him. You understood, it just hurt sometimes. When all you wanted was to snuggle up to him when he needed space. You caressed his arm through his suit jacket hoping he could feel it through the thick suit.

He opened his mouth as if to say something before closing it. Thinking. The man was always thinking. Overthinking all too often, “No. Not really.” He admitted.

You felt your heart racing. He was confiding in you. It wasn’t like he hadn’t before, but it was a rarity when he did. You’d find him bottling up and shoving his emotions to the side. But he needed you right now, “What happened handsome?” You pressed a little further unsure if he wanted to tell.

He smiled before gently kissing your forehead, “He’s got Alzheimer’s, clearly. Very clearly” He paused before pulling you into his chest.

As much as you loved the feeling you knew that wasn’t it, “That all?” You asked pulling your head out of the embrace.

He shook his, “No.”

You let him just hold you before pressing him further. You knew he would spill in due time, if he wanted to. Never wanting to pressure him you always asked though, “Care to share?”

He took a long breathe in and a steady one out before pulling you over the couch you and Jack were occupying moments before. Pulling you down into his lap you let him sit there and hold you. It wasn’t that often that he was here, present, and fully there. These were moments you prayed would happen more often but never seemed to come around enough. So, you cherished them. Even when they were tenser moments like these.

He sighed knowing he needed to tell you. He had to get it off his chest or he’d keep thinking about it over and over again. Ruminate for no reason, “He kept blaming me for her death.” You knew immediately what he was referring to. Pulling him closer you started running your hands through his hair, just like you had Jack earlier on in the night, “He just… wouldn’t stop. Kept going on about it. How he’d never forget. Even with the damn disease.” You looked at his expressive face as he laid it on you, everything that Roy had laid on him through the afternoon.

“Hon, you know that’s not true right?” You asked quietly continuing to play with his hair. You knew it was a weakness for the man. For both the Hotchner boys you found out quickly and used it against them as often as you could. You just hoped it was helping him, even if it was just a little.

He nodded quickly, “I know. Trust me, I know. It just, he messed with my head.” He didn’t care to elaborate so you simply snuggled in closer to him. Breathing him in. It didn’t matter that he spent his morning in a hospital and the afternoon in somebody else’s home, he still smelled like Aaron. He became your home. Your safe space.

After a few moments of silence, you squeezed his side, “You’re one of the best people I’ve had the pleasure of knowing. I get that I didn’t know you back then, but I do know that you were the same. I know how fucking hard you tried to save her. I know how unfair it’s been on you. I love you beyond words Aaron. I just hope you love yourself just a little. You give so much for everyone else. Give a little bit back to yourself too sometimes.”

He listened to your every word before responding. Nodding his head at you, “I’ll try to. I know I’m not the best at it, but I’ll try to.”

“Yeah?” You pulled away from his chest smiling at him.

He nodded giving you a quick kiss on the cheek, “I’m not perfect. I’ll never be. So, you’ll have to call me out when I run back into old habits. But I’ll try. For you. For Jack.”

“Okay.” You grinned giving him a long kiss this time. Getting a little tired of the short kisses that seemed to miss your lips, “By the way, I think your nearly perfect. If that means anything.” You grinned brushing your fingers down the side of his face.

“Honey, that means the world to me.” He returned the favor by gently cradling your face in his hands before kissing you much more deeply this time, “I love you.”

“And I love you.” You grinned in confirmation.

“Let’s get going to bed. Jack will wake us up in a few hours wanting pancakes or something.” Aaron looked at the time getting closer to on in the morning.

You grinned letting him pull you up right out of the spot you’d been occupying on his lap, “Jack’s worth losing sleep over though. I’ll happily make pancakes with him at six in the morning.”

Aaron laughed before setting you down on the ground, “You say that before he tries waking you up then. I take it you two had a good night?”

You nodded in confirmation, “True.” You laughed a little before continuing, “I’m sure he’ll tell you all about it in the morning though.”

He grabbed your hand holding it tight, “In the morning then.”

You yawned nodding your head while leaning into his chest not really caring how clingy you were being. All you wanted was him.

Feeling his laugh, you smiled to yourself. At least you were able to make him smile. You were never the best with words so being able to make him laugh it off or smile in your presence was always a win in your book.

“Let’s get to bed before you fall asleep standing up.” You couldn’t see his expression in the dark, but you just knew he was smirking at you.

“Sure thing.” You didn’t make any effort to move only leaning further into him.

“Alright.” He scooped you right on up in your arms, “I get the hint stubborn ass.” He held you tight not even the slightest bit mad you wanted him to carry you up to sleep. He adored moments like these.

“That’s why they pay you the big bucks boss man.” Sleepily you grinned to yourself knowing you had him there. He was literally paid to observe and predict.

Gently, he laid you down on the bed pulling you into his side ignoring that comment, “Y/N?” He asked seeing if you were still coherent before continuing.

“Yeah?” You answered him still there.

“Thank you for everything today. And in general. I don’t thank you enough.” He gently rubbing a thumb over your hip knowing that was one of your many weaknesses. Truth be told almost anything Aaron did was a weakness for you.

“Of course. That’s what partners do. They help each other when they need it. I love you Aaron Hotchner. Every little bit of you.” Your eyes fluttered closed as he kept brushing his hand over your side. Soothing you right to sleep.

“I love every bit of you too honeybee.” He kissed the back of your head drifting off to sleep right behind you. For as odd as the relationship was with him sometimes you’d never change it. Not in a million years. Especially as you were snuggled up to him in a dreamless sleep.

Taglist: @genius2050 @simp4f1 @buckybarnessweetheart

[luveline]

pleading for anything with dad steve being the best possible girl dad. with clingy daughters that won’t leave the poor man alone, but he absolutely loves every second of it, that’s all i ask

im not sure if this is really what you meant but i hope you like it anyhow! ♡ dad!steve + mom!reader | 1.1k words

Steve's trying to do yesterday's dishes when a small voice sounds from his calf. "Dad, can I-" 

"Go ask mom," Steve says, and he loves to say it. 

The oldest, a fresh three year old with his personality and your good looks, groans. Loudly. He laughs at her because it's far outside of her usual behaviour.

She kicks the floor but stands silent. Steve feels sorry for her, just a little, his mini you all pouty and teary-eyed. "Oh, we can't have that," he murmurs, drying off his hands with a towel as he bends at the waist to talk to her. "Fine, baby, ask me. But no more showing off." 

She has the good graces to look apologetic. "I want a hug." 

"Your mom's hugs aren't good enough?" he asks, gently scolding. 

"Want one from you." 

He smiles wide and opens his arms. She falls into his chest and almost knocks him over, her face rubbing against his chest. Steve realises she's getting comfy and makes to pick her up, one hand behind her back and the other her legs. 

Her arms are so small they only just close around his neck. Steve looks down at the top of her head fondly, leaning against the kitchen counter in preparation for what feels like a long cuddle. 

"Where's your sister?" he murmurs. 

"Sleeping." 

"Really?" he asks, rubbing the short length of her back tenderly. 

She only nods. Steve cuddles her close and drops his head to rest his cheek in her hair. She smells a touch like you and a lot like her apple jellybean shampoo. 

"Dad," she says.

"What?" 

She lifts her head from his chest and he reluctantly pulls back. Her cheeks balloon, filled with air, and she pouts for a kiss. Steve chuckles at her expression and obliges. 

After a kiss he pokes her inflated cheek. "What's this?" 

"S'how you kiss." 

"Says who?" 

She shrugs. Steve fills his cheeks with air and gives her another. 

Delighted, she starts to laugh. Steve laughs too, the air he'd sucked in rushing out in a big puff that blows her baby hairs away from her face. 

Almost like the youngest can tell Steve's having too much fun, she starts to cry. He pulls the oldest against his chest and carries her up the stairs, finding you already in the baby's bedroom in your pyjamas, hair wet and fussing over your crying daughter with a small frown. 

You have soap behind your ear. 

He wipes it away and drops his hand to the nape of your neck. "Hey," he greets you. 

You look up at him from where you're sitting at the top of the toddler bed, always the prettiest woman he's ever seen. "Hiya, handsome. And you-" You point at your oldest. "Trouble, I got a bone to pick with you." 

Steve stiffens like he's the one who's gonna get told off, but you break your act too quickly for any real panic to set it. "You didn't tell me Mr. Bear got hurt." 

"His foot!" she agrees with a gasp. 

"I'll sew it up. Or, dad will," you promise, smiling bashfully. Your hair is dripping down your back. 

"Sure will," he agrees. "Why don't you go finish your hair? I got this." 

You look down at the baby, who's not really a baby anymore, but the baby still, and brush her brown hair with your fingertips before you stand, kiss his cheek, and leave, smelling very sweet as you pass. 

Steve looks down at the youngest. She's more like him than you visually, her face squarer and her lips like they'd been stolen from his face.

"Hi, baby. Did you have a nice nap?" 

Steve knows better than to expect any proper words when she's this tired. 

"Can we go lie in your bed?" the oldest asks. 

Steve tilts his head. "You want a dogpile?" he asks knowingly. Dogpile isn't quite accurate. If he laid his full weight on either of the girls he suspects he'd hurt them. It's a big hug under the covers. 

She nods. Steve offers an arm to the baby and is best pleased when she takes it, lifting her up and carrying both kids on either hip like it's his job. It sort of is. 

You sit on the floor with your hairdryer in the bedroom, smiling softly when the three of them appear. 

"Dogpile," Steve explains loudly to be heard over the hair dryer. 

He dumps both kids on the unmade bed and worms his way under the sheets. He's immediately squashed by the oldest who drapes her entire weight over his front and nuzzles in, arms spread over his chest, and the youngest who sits by his head and drops her cheek rather abruptly against his hair. He laughs and struggles to hug her with his free arm, eyes to his eyebrows to watch her. "Whatcha doing up there, baby? Gonna play with my hair like your mom does?" 

No such luck. She yawns and fidgets and then crawls away, down the length of the bed. Steve worries she's gonna bother you where you sit sectioning your hair but she climbs over his legs and then settles between them like a house cat. 

"Can we have spaghetti for dinner?" the oldest asks. 

Steve looks down at the daughter on his chest and smiles at her, brushing his hand over her forehead affectionately. "It's pizza night." 

The only thing better than spaghetti shapes is pizza. She makes a small, excited sound and shuffles further up his chest. "With the cheese in the-" She doesn't know the word. 

"Crust?" he asks. "Yeah, the one with cheese in the crust." 

They lie like that for a little while, the kids surprisingly subdued for a Friday night. Usually there's a general cranky air about them, exhausted from a week of early mornings, and he takes this small section of peace as the blessing that it is. It only gets better when you finish your hair, swoop up the baby into your arms and meet him at the top of the bed. You lie down so your hip touches his, each of you with a kid on your chest. 

He drops his cheek to the pillow to meet your eyes. 

"They're so clingy," he complains.

"You love it." 

He blows up his cheeks and tries to kiss you. You squirm away from him, giggling as you ask, "What is that? What are you doing?" 

"S'how you kiss!" 

"That's not how you usually do it." 

He huffs. "Whatever. You'll give me one, won't you?" he asks the oldest. 

She blows up her cheeks. 

"Oh my god," you say. You sound infectiously happy.

[hyperfixatedfandomer]

12am incoherent Spider rant incoming:

The fact that a huge portion of Spider fans sympathise with him because they had similar family experiences in life is low-key making me feel kinda weird about people who hate him. Like let us recap the events real quick-

Like why do you hate a kid who did more to keep the Na’vi safe than Jake through the entire movie? “They’re after us” ok? This is not just about you dumbass it’s a whole-ass war, the RDA will still want to find the rest of your tribe because they want to ERADICATE your people 😐 the fact that it took him MONTHS to realise that running will not save anyone is 😬 (though I can get behind it bc family and all)

How is it that a goddamn 16 year old was the one who carried the good guy team??? 😐😐😐 he saved tribes from getting murdered, like literally, Tonowari said that no one had died, WONDER WHY???? DO Y’ALL THINK QUARITCH WAS NICE OUTTA NOWHERE???

And then he sunk a ship. HE SUNK A SHIP BY HIMSELF????

AND THEN HE INDIRECTLY SAVED KIRIS AND JAKE’S LIFE????

“He backstabbed them” I know you’re not blaming him for it when Neytiri exists 🧍 bestie outright REFUSED to help a literal child and didn’t bat an eye when he got captured. I can get behind her putting a knife to his throat in a rush of emotion but to very clearly ABANDON him? Fuck off. If her active decision to leave him behind didn’t turn into the reef Na’vi’s literal saving grace I’d be hating on her so actively.

“He saved his homocidal dad after he promised to murder his family” first of all the Sullys NEVER adopted him and it’s made abundantly clear. You sound like a gaslighter when you use that rhetoric. 😐📸

And secondly — HELL YEAH HE DID???? I would too if I was him and so would you and so would we all because Miles is the first grown up who GAVE A SHIT. MILES GENUINELY CARED. “It’s morally wrong” NO CAP 😀😀😀 NO ONE SAYS IT WAS RIGHT BUT THE KID HAD A SPLIT SECOND TO MAKE A DECISION AND HE CHOSE NOT TO BE A MURDERER.

You know what else is morally wrong tbw? Neglecting a child for 16 years.

“B-but they had no obligation to take care of a human kid—” cry me a fucking river 😐 what they want or not doesn’t fucking matter when we are talking about the mental health of an actual living breathing being. They ALL (the scientists, the Sullys and even the mf McKoskers or whatever the hell their last name is) were morally obligated to give that kid the best they could to ensure that he wouldn’t turn out like his father BECAUSE THEY’RE ADULTS.

The fact that their collective neglect DIDN’T blow up in their face is a pure miracle. Thant kid had every right to turn evil and burn the village that rejected him to feel it’s warmth but he DID NOT. In fact he is so goddamn kind and compassionate that he sees good even in a piece of shit monster like Quaritch.

It’s mind-blowing when we consider the lack of parental love and guidance throughout his life.

☝️ THIS is the kid you’re hating on???? Bc it’s starting to look suspiciously toxic 👀💅

Pay my boy some respect. He was a literal hero and y’all act like the Omatekaya, ignoring whatever good he might do and then point fingers at him when he does something morally questionable LIKE ITS NOT JAKES FAULT??? LIKE THE REST OF THE ADULTS ARE NOT AT FAULT TOO??

Neglect makes people vulnerable. Vulnerable enough for an asshole to swoop in and manipulate them and it is only thanks to Spider’s unyielding loyalty and heart that neither Ardmore, nor Miles had pulled anything out of him in MONTHS of captivity. They had NO idea where Jake or Omatekaya were until Norm fucked it all up with his trackable ship.

Listen I love all the blorbos, but the parents dug their own grave so to speak. You fumble the bag repeatedly and then get surprised when it flies into your face? 🤨

Anyway, I’m out. Might delete this later idk.

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

Last preview of “Dress Up: Part 2”

This will be the last preview of Chapter 2 of “Dress Up” since I wanna save the best part for everyone to experience at the same time! Luckily this is a very short preview! This is already at 2,500 words and we haven’t gotten to the good stuff yet

No active warnings for this section!

You startled awake with the sound of knocking at your door. Your mind was still foggy, brief memories of last night flooded through your head. "Lucifer?" you sat up and looked around your room, but he was already gone, leaving you alone in an empty bed. He had kept his promise after all. There was another set of knocks at the door. "Coming!" you shouted as you ran to grab the robe you had left on the armchair. You opened the door to see Charlie bouncing giddily.

“Good moooorrrrnnniiiinnnngggggg~” she practically sang. “Did you sleep well? Are you ready for your big day?? Are we forgetting anything???” She rapid fired questions at you while you were still rubbing the crust from your eyes.

“Charlie, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re more excited than I am,” you joked, gesturing her to come in. “In order: Yes, I slept…well. Yes, I’m ready...mentally speaking. And no, we’re definitely not forgetting anything. You’re the most meticulous and thoughtful person I know, you definitely have everything planned to a tee!”

"Aww, thank you!" Charlie smiled as she skipped into your room. "You can never be too prepared, ya know? Especially for a day that's so wonderful and magical and full of love!" You saw tears welling up in her eyes out of pure joy.

"Hey now, I thought I was the one that was supposed to be crying today!" you joked.

"Right, right! Sorry!" She wiped the tears from her eyes and grabbed your hands excitedly. "Let's get your hair and make up done!"

Charlie dragged you over to the vanity and sat you down in the chair. You weren't one to wear much makeup typically, but Charlie insisted. And when Charlie asks for something, it's pretty much impossible to tell her no. So you obliged. But you made her promise that she would not go overboard, only the basics. Charlie grabbed the hairbrush and began to comb through your hair, gently pulling out the knots out of the nasty case of bed head you were sporting. She truly was the kindest soul you've ever met. But that didn't stop you from feeling a little awkward.

"Charlie," you mumbled, "are you-oww...can I ask you something?"

"Yes, of course!" She grabbed the the already plugged-in curler and started working on adding some volume to your hair.

"Are...are you sure you're alright with this?" you asked timidly. "I mean...me and your father. I just don't want you to think I'm trying to, you know...replace your mother. I know I don't know much about her or your relationship but..."

Charlie put down the curler and kneeled down next to you, gently grabbing your hand. "You don't need to worry about that! I promise, it's alright with me. It's more than alright, actually! I haven't seen my dad this happy in a long, long time. He loves you so much! You wanna know how I know that? Because he tells me. Every single day. His eyes light up when anybody mentions your name! And I know you would never do anything to hurt him, or me. You're too kind and good hearted for that. I know it may feel like you're inserting yourself into the picture, but I'm more than happy to have you as part of our family! I know the love you have for my dad is genuine, and I wouldn't change a thing!"

A smile formed on your face. "Thank you, Charlie."

"Now," Charlie hopped up from the floor and grabbed the large make up bag sitting on the counter, “time to make magic happen! I have the perfect idea! Close your eyes and no peaking until I say so!”

[xlovelybluebellex]

More cg hcs for Lucifer pretty please! I am adoring it! It makes me want to do a little drabble with Luficer/reader with lucifer being a doting grandpa!

YOU SHOULDDD! and im so glad you like it 😭. Luci is definitely my favorite character, so i have plenty of headcanons.

PII CG!Lucifer Would…

🍎He’d take you flying, if you’re comfortable with it! Of course, he’s holding onto you tight in case you feel the need to get a little wiggly

🍎He’s a dad, so he can easily tell when you need to regress. Even other people, he just knows.

🍎Luci is actually really good with tantrums. He’ll let you scream as loud as you want and once you’ve calmed down, he’ll have you go lay down in your bed for some quiet time, then ask you what happened.

🍎He lets you feel his wings and if you’re interested, he lets you help to preen them. However, Luci doesn’t want you to feel obligated too at all.

🍎I think everyone’s agreed on this, but he spoils his little rotten. You’re just too cute for him to say no too! So any pacifier, any piece of clothes, any toy, is all yours.

🍎If you’re a clingy little, Luci will understand that completely. He’ll hold you constantly, kiss your face, and remind you that he’s “right here, ducky”.

🍎Luci lets you help make ducks! You get to decide the clothes, beak, overall appearance of the duck. However, no going near his craft table. There are some very dangerous tools there.

🍎He tells you loads of stories, anything you want to hear. He may leave out some gory parts, but he’ll, make up for it in his light magic.

🍎If you’re napping on him, Luci will trace your face. He’s very gentle, and makes sure to keep away from your eyes and mouth. It’s still very calming though.

🍎CRAZY overprotective. Like, if it’s under 50 degrees outside, forget it. You’re wearing a jacket and a scarf. If you got a paper cut? He’s two seconds away from calling an ambulance. You cry? Well first he’ll comfort you, then kill whoever made you cry.

🍎 If you have long hair, he’s more than happy to help! He’s helped both Lilith and Charlie, you as well. He’ll even do nice hairstyles. Like pretty braids, or a nice bun.

🍎 Luci’s the best at bath time. He’ll add your favorite soap, make sure it’s loaded with bubbles, and most definitely help you in the bath if need be. Then, if you’re comfortable with him staying, he’ll sing a little to help relax you.

🍎Sometimes he’ll look at you and cry. You’re just so beautiful, so perfect, so absolutely amazing that it’s hard for him to believe you’re not the one who fell from Heaven and- he’s crying again!

🍎If you have trauma as well as nightmares, he’s always there. He’ll let you sleep in bed with him, rock you back to sleep, and if you happen to need pull ups due to the nightmares, he’s more than understanding.

🍎Luci will threaten to end someone’s entire bloodline over the phone while you’re resting peacefully in his arms, him rubbing your back so you can sleep.

🍎If you’re a baby regressor, he loves it. Like, he loves his regressor at any age, but a baby? God. And he’s more than willing to care for you. Feeding, burping, baths, diapers if needed, he’s got it all.

🍎Luci hates punishing you. Even if you willingly go, the tears always break his heart. So he gives a lot of cuddles and reassurances about how much he loves you after.

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

Hey there. Since ace tav is a bard, just wondering if you have thoughts on the camps musical tastes/requests for her to play?

Hmm, I gotta think about this.

To start Ace!Tav loves taking requests. If they're been traveling for a while and somebody requests a song, they're more than happy to oblige. It makes them feel needed. If they can be just a little useful to their new companions they're going to take it.

As for Tav's personal taste in music, it's rather eclectic. All the music they've learned has been from what they've heard on the road from other bards. Probably a lot of folk music, and whatever the Faerun equivalent is to country, rock and roll, and the top 100. And, honestly, throw some jazz, soul and rap in there as well.

I don't think they're particularly judgemental when it comes to music taste. Music is everything to them. It's how they're able to express themselves and convey emotions they can't always articulate. Whatever music speaks to a person is good music.

As for the rest of the companions, here's their music taste based on ✨vibes✨.

Lae'zel: Would probably say she doesn't like/listen to music. However, if you introduce her to heavy metal, she's going to head bang with the best of them.

Karlach: Punk, all the way. Get that woman into a mosh pit.

Shadowheart: Late 90s/early 2000s nu metal and the emo scene in general. Yes, I've heard the jokes and I'm sticking to them.

Gale: Your dad's 1970s playlist. Is genuinely surprised whenever anybody 10 years younger than him had heard of Fleetwood Mac. Definitely loves the Beatles.

Wyll: Honestly the only one who sincerely enjoys classical music. Deceptively a bit of a music snob. Will go on about how some obscure soul album defined a generation. However, still enjoys the radio hits and anything romantic you can dance to.

Astarion: Genuinely hasn't put much thought into music before meeting Tav. Likes what he likes, and has a difficult time articulating exactly what that is. Some classic pieces. That one song he heard in a tavern once a hundred years ago. Some angry rock and roll. Some sad boy playlist. And a good scattering of who ever is Baldur's Gate's equivalent of Megan Thee Stalion or Dua Lipa. Bottom line his playlist is a goddamn mess.