#they absolutely have been married for the past thirty years

[tiger-in-the-flightdeck]

Me: Ugh, Futures End is such a cheesy concept

Futures End:

Me: Hmm. That is a very compelling argument.

[seresinhangmanjake]

Simon "Ghost" Riley is afraid to propose to his girlfriend (reader)

notes/warnings: fluff, angsty-ish, cursing, typos i'm sure (i wrote it in like an hr and then lost all energy to closely proofread. sorry)

words: 1367

Simon Riley Masterlist

Forty-Two months. You’ve been together for forty-two months, and Simon Riley is no fool. He knows what he has. Through every imaginable horror, you’ve been by his side. You’ve held his hand, kissed his forehead, brushed your fingers through his hair, let him lay on top of you after a night of sex when he’d just needed to feel you and know that you’re with him. You’ve cried with him and for him. And when it’s asked of you, you’ve waited for him. 

You’re absolutely everything. Of perfect quality despite your flaws. A reminder that things in this world are soft, beautiful, gentle. When he loses faith in the concepts of decency and humanity because of the things he’s seen, you refuel what has been depleted. You make things make sense in a cruel existence. And yet, he hasn’t asked you to marry him. 

Ok, maybe he is a bit of a fool.

For forty-two months you’ve watched your friends get married, cousins and second cousins, and even your mother and your aunt—all of whom began relationships with their new spouses long after you and Simon declared yourselves officially together. You’ve taken Simon to so many weddings in the past three and a half years that you’d both agreed you’d had your fill. But Simon is under no illusions that if it were for you and him, you’d manage to find the energy for one more wedding. 

You don’t pressure him or drop painfully obvious hints, and if he’s honest, that almost makes it worse. Price and Gaz and even Johnny have faced threats of their own in the past by the women they’ve been with, with varying results. Price was happy to agree. Gaz a little less, but his lady was pregnant and it was the right thing to do. But Johnny…Johnny wouldn’t marry his current broad if it meant a quick death. You, though, are a gift. Better than all of them in Simon’s eyes. You deserve to have the man who loves you acknowledge that love by asking you to be his wife. Simon just can’t bring himself to ensure that that man is him.

He attributes that roadblock to your relationship not being equal. He doesn’t provide you with everything you provide him. While he does his best to be supportive and loving and comforting, you’ve mastered those skills and he can’t compete. And how is it fair to ask you to pull that weight for the rest of your lives?

It doesn’t stop him from wanting to ask, but when the question is on his tongue, he can’t get it out. However, because you’re stronger than him, more open and sure of what you want, it turns out he doesn’t have to.

—

“Simon, will you marry me?”

You’re not looking at him. You’ve been spooning on the couch for the last three hours watching mindless TV, and he’s refused to let you up from your spot. At the question, his hand under your shirt that has been lazily fondling your breast freezes. He’s half hard and was about thirty seconds from trailing that hand down your body and into your sleep shorts, but now he can’t. 

Simon swallows. “W-What?” he asks, though he absolutely heard you. Does anyone mistake those words for anything other than what they are? 

His pounding heart clogs his ears, but to his surprise, his cock gets a little harder. 

After too many beats of silence, you guide his hand out of your shirt, and with a sigh, you stand, round the couch, and go into the bedroom. In your absence, he sits up, running a hand through his hair and blowing out a breath. 

What just happened? He thinks. And what the fuck did he just do? He didn’t answer the way he should have and now you’re gone. He’s hurt you, and he’s so focused on his fuck up that he doesn’t notice you come back until you’re standing directly in front of him. 

A black band is trapped between your thumb and index finger. You’re not smiling. There’s no glimmer in your eye. You simply hold the ring, staring at it. 

“I just want to marry you,” you say, your voice dripping with the disappointment he knows you’re expecting. “And you haven’t asked me.” 

“Love–” he starts, but then you drop to your knees, calves folded under your thighs. 

His heart cracks right down the middle, jagged and splintered. A few pieces fall into his gut. You still won’t look at him, so he reaches out a hand, cups your cheek, and turns your face up to his. 

“You don’ kneel to me, Love,” he tells you, his thumb stroking your cheekbone.

Half-heartedly chuckling, you say, “Sometimes I do.”

Simon lets his lips curl into a slight smile because his girl is still in there. Despite the forlorn look on your face, he didn’t completely break your spirit with one unanswered question. And thank fuck for that.  

He doesn’t mean to, but he forces you to sit in limbo as he thinks. The woman he loves is on her knees asking for something that she so evidently believes she isn’t going to get. And yet, it’s from that risk—that display of your love for him and the leap you’re willing to take to prove it—that Simon snaps out of every negative thought that has held him back. 

Hand dropping from your face, he rises from the couch and, just as you had, makes his way into the bedroom. He has no idea where you’d hidden his, but yours has been in a dresser drawer for nearly a year, tucked behind the socks that are never worn because he has too many pairs. 

When he returns, he stops dead in his tracks because you’re still sitting there but your head is down again and a teardrop falls onto your bare thigh as you fiddle with the ring, and that is unacceptable; his behavior is unacceptable. And now he’s more sure than ever. 

Simon discards the box and goes to sit back on the couch. Your embarrassment is palpable, and he hates himself for yanking that out of you. Shame is the last thing he has ever wanted you to feel in his presence. 

Ring between his fingers, Simon lowers his hand until he’s sure the diamond is within your line of sight. 

Your gasp is faint but he catches it—a master at catching every little sound you make and savoring his ability to have you make them. Your head shoots up, eyes wide as they connect with his. 

With his free hand, Simon brushes away the tears that have yet to fall from your cheeks. 

“Switch,” he says. 

“What?”

He takes your hand, pulling you with him as he rises to his feet, and turns your bodies. “Sit,” he says, and you do. Then he eases onto one knee, ignoring the crack of his bones, and holds out the ring. “I’m so sorry it came to this, Love. I didn’—” he shakes his head, “’s my fault.”

Your head cocks to the side. “Your fault?”

“My fault,” he nods, his brow pinching as he decides how to say what he needs to. “You’re my wife,” he says. “I know you’re my wife—I’ve known it—but I get in my head and I start going through the list of things that I don’ think I deserve, and you’re the Queen of that list, Love. You make everything else on that list seem so unimportant that they have no right bein’ there.”

“Simon…”

“But I’ll make you a deal,” he continues. “I’ll marry you, if you marry me.”

You snicker and, excluding the tears he’d caused, your face does exactly what he’d hoped it would do wherever he imagined proposing. The only detail unaccounted for is your answer, which he supposes is fair. He hadn’t directly given you one either. 

But then you say one the best damn things he’s ever heard leave your mouth. 

Your pretty lips part and you tell him: “Yes.”

A/N: I don’t think love has to be affirmed in the form of a proposal and wedding, but for the sake of the fic…

[romanoffsdarling]

Summertime Sadness

Pairing: Dom!Wanda Maximoff x MILF!Reader

Summary: You hadn’t expected the summer after your divorce to be anything more than you simply getting used to being alone and drowning your sorrows in glasses of wine. The sudden homecoming of your daughter brings those plans to a screeching halt, but nothing could have prepared you for the woman that she brought along. Her best friend, the woman you’ve been hearing about in all of her phone calls home, offering you a glimpse into parts of yourself you never even knew were there. 

Word Count: 4,891

Warnings: Legal age gap, oral (R receiving), fingering (R receiving), and hints of possessiveness. 18+, Minors DNI.

Author’s Note: I’ve seen a lot of stories with Wanda being the MILF, rightfully so, but I wanted to spin it a bit and make the Reader the MILF in this instance. Hope you all enjoy! (Also, I’m so sorry for disappearing for so long, college has been absolute hell.)

You never truly comprehend how much time you waste, how much had truly slipped through your fingers, until it’s already too late to do anything about it. Until you look into the mirror and see the once youthful face marred by faint wrinkles, a sign of wisdom your best friend would tease, and hair speckled with the vaguest hint of grey. 

Twenty-five years... You had been married to your husband for twenty-five years; giving him your youth, giving him your heart and soul, and you never once imagined that he would have tossed all of that away for some floozy at his law firm. Never thought that you’d look down at your left hand and not see the delicate gold band situated on your ring finger. Of course, even now, you didn’t regret marrying him-- for it had given you the house you lived in now, the friends that had flocked to your side when the news of his infidelity spread through the neighborhood, and it gave you your darling daughter. Even if she was not yours by blood, you couldn’t imagine anyone housing the same space in your heart like your beautiful Natasha did. 

All you did regret was being stupid enough to trust him so much. For putting your faith, and your dreams, in his clearly incapable hands. It had hurt, and still does hurt, but it wasn’t because you had lost him-- your marriage, in truth, had been dead for years-- but for all the time you had lost in chasing smoke and mirrors; in staying for something that should have been let go of long ago. You hated him for what he did, for getting caught with his pants down in between his secretary’s thighs, but you hated him even more for not being man enough to simply let you go, to give up the fight when it had already been lost after his first thirty seconds with his new whore, and it’s for that reason that you were currently scrubbing every inch of his old office clean. 

You wanted to get rid of any reminder of him-- both in your home and in your mind. 

The smell of bleach and lemon disinfectant surrounds you, but you had long grown used to the cloying scent. Dark oak floors, and the matching desk, gleamed underneath the antique lighting of the room; it had been a long time since they had been given the proper care they needed. It seems that I have more in common with inanimate objects that I thought, you muse, a sense of bittersweet irony strewn within the thought. 

Settling back on your haunches, a sigh escapes your lips, and you roll your shoulders, wanting to relieve the tension that had been slowly building up for the past couple of hours. “I’m not getting any younger,” you mutter, tossing the damp rag to the side. “I just hope everything will get a bit easier.” 

Even to yourself you knew that was asking for a miracle. 

Before you could delve down into that specific line of thought, you faintly hear the sound of the front door being opened and the familiar sound of jangling keys with the slightly deadpan calling of ‘mom’ permeates the usual silence. The sound, although not unwelcome in the slightest, causes a small frown to furrow your brow all the same. 

“Natasha?” You call back, already making your way towards the living room, sure that your confusion rung clearly within your tone. An expression that only grows that much more pronounced when you’re met with the shimmering gaze of your daughter; tousled red hair cut short, falling to just above her shoulders, and her usual penchant of wearing darker colors being tantamount. “What are you doing home, sweetheart? I wasn’t expecting you for another month.” 

Her lips twist in a wry smile. “Are you not happy to see me, mother?” She tilts her head, faux hurt making an appearance. “I thought you’d be glad to see me.”

You gently swat her arm, before pulling her into a tight hug. “Of course, I’m happy to see you, Natasha,” you murmur, your lips briefly brush across her cheek before you disentangle from her completely. “I just know how you value your independence too.”

“I knew that you were alone in the house, mom,” she replies, a shrug calmly following her words. “I didn’t want you to wallow in self-pity while that fucker I call a father gets his rocks off with someone half his age across town.” 

“Language, Natasha,” you gently chide, well aware your daughter was in her early twenties now and didn’t need to be reprimanded for it. “You know that your father still loves you dearly, and I believe he’s excited to see you whenever you get around to going to his new house.” 

Jade eyes roll so hard you’re almost concerned about them getting stuck. “He should have thought about that before he stuck his tongue down someone else’s throat.” Natasha’s lips press into a line, clearly agitated, but she takes a deep breath through her nose and forcibly calms herself down. “But I’m not here to talk about him. I’m here to spend time with you.” 

Sudden movement from behind Natasha causes your reply to catch in your throat when you finally focus on the woman standing behind your daughter. Whose presence you were completely astonished you hadn’t noticed before, especially given how electrifying it felt to have her emerald eyes honed directly on you, but your gentle smile doesn’t fall away; even if you do feel it twitch slightly due to your surprise. Your hand, that was near enough to your daughter’s forearm, clenches around it in a silent reprimand, but you try your best to keep the pleasant tone to your voice. 

“I see that my daughter didn’t think it best to introduce her guest first.” You gently pinch Natasha once before stepping closer to the unknown woman in your home. “I apologize for not noticing you sooner.” 

The woman smirks, the light emerald of her eyes shifting to tantalizing jade as she observes you. “It’s quite alright,” she replies, her voice a husky whisper that’s enveloped in an accent you couldn’t pinpoint the origin of. “I’m not surprised that Nat was too focused on her mother to remember me.” 

Subtext is etched into every inch of that statement, but you didn’t have time to even try to sift through it before your daughter’s teasing voice cuts through. 

“It’s not my fault my mother is more interesting than you, Wanda.” She slides past you to stand beside the now smiling woman. “You just need to learn to get on her level.”

Wanda’s gaze shifts from your daughter to you once more-- the barest hint of her earlier smirk returning. “I don’t know, Nat,” she teases, amusement, mixed with something else you couldn’t put a name to, laced within her words. “I think I quite like my view from where I’m at.”

Your daughter, once again, rolls her eyes skyward but her easygoing smile doesn’t leave her lips. “Mom.” She turns back to you and gestures towards Wanda. “This is Wanda Maximoff, I’ve talked about her a bit when I’ve called home.” 

The name finally clicks into place within your head. Memories of your daughter’s exasperated voice, filled with hints of fondness, come forth from the recesses of your mind. All of the stories, all of the thinly veiled jokes, that your daughter had shared with you, and the clear warmth that she felt for the other woman, brings a fond smile to your lips. An expression that causes various emotions to flicker across Wanda’s face for the briefest of moments before it smooths over. 

“So, you’re the one my daughter kept talking about?” You couldn’t keep the genuine amusement out of your tone if you tried. “Her best friend?”

Wanda arches a brow. “I’m your best friend, Nat?” She playfully places her hands to her heart. “I’m honored that you think so highly of me.” 

You can tell your daughter just barely refrains from rolling her eyes. Not even bothering to deign Wanda’s teasing words with a response, Natasha turns back to you. “Can we go put our things away, mom?” She rolls her shoulders, and, for the first time, you notice how tired she looked. Of course, it was over a four-hour drive from your house in Westview to her college in Ithaca. 

“Of course, sweetheart,” you soothed. “I’m just going to finish up some work down here and then I’ll get started on dinner, okay?”

Natasha smiles. “You’re the best, mom.” 

Your heart flutters at her words, a simple compliment to most, but one that you’ve desperately needed in the last few months. Knowing that you may start crying at any moment if you tried to speak, you wave your daughter towards the stairs and step back towards the hallway to continue your work in the office. But, before you could a throat clearing behind you causes you to turn back around-- only to be met by beautiful emerald eyes that seemed to encompass you in a bubble you didn’t know if you wanted to escape from. 

“Is everything alright, Wanda?” Your gaze quickly flicks over her body: from the black skinny jeans with holes, to the simple red leather jacket, and the casually tousled way her dark auburn hair fell over her shoulders. “Did you need something?” 

Pale pink lips quirk for a moment, before a genuine look of something passes over Wanda’s face once more. “I don’t need anything.” She shakes her head, a low chuckle escapes her, but you weren’t quite sure what was so funny. “I just wanted to thank you for letting me stay here with Natasha. Especially since it was clear you didn’t know I was coming in the first place.” 

“It’s not a problem, Wanda,” you reply, a smile of your own playing across your lips. “I’m glad that I won’t be alone in this house for however long you both decide to stay. It definitely beats what I was going to do.”

“What were you going to do?” 

You shrug. “Just wallow around and get drunk off of some wine.”

Wanda considers you for a moment, emerald eyes cast in shadow. “I’m not so sure about the wallowing, but I’d love to have a glass of wine with you sometime.” 

“Oh.” You’re surprised by the simplicity in which Wanda makes the offer. None of Natasha’s previous friends, or best friends, had ever bothered, or seemed that keen, to spend time with you. Not that you’d ever fault them for doing so. Who would want to spend time with the parents of their best friend? “I’m sure you’ll have much more interesting things to do, Wanda.” 

A smile, much softer than the one’s she had shown you before, plays at the corners of her lips. “I’m not so sure about that, but the offer still stands regardless.” She looks over her shoulder when the call of her name from Natasha’s room spears through the house, an almost disgruntled look etching itself across her face because of it. “I think it’ll be fun to get to know the woman that raised Nat. Her stories of you haven’t done you justice in the slightest.” 

You’re not able to reply before Natasha’s annoyed voice from the upper-level calls Wanda towards the stairs, clearly impatient with how long her friend was taking. Conversation over then, you think, taking a small step back, towards the direction of the kitchen. The action elicits the smallest of frowns from Wanda, an expression that is there and gone before you could even blink, and you offer her one last wave before heading further into your house, vaguely aware that you didn’t hear the telltale signs of footsteps on your stairs until you rounded the corner. 

The following week passes quickly, and you easily grow used to having Natasha back home-- Wanda slipping in seamlessly throughout it all. It was nice to have some company in the large house, even if Natasha did tend to disappear to reconnect with friends she had left behind once she went off to New York and left Westview behind, but knowing that your daughter was there, and would continue to be, if you needed her soothed you in a way that you hadn’t even known you needed. 

Wanda, despite Natasha’s persistent pestering, seemed to enjoy spending her time lounging around the house, citing that she didn’t know anyone in Westview and didn’t plan on getting chummy with the locals, offering her help whenever she saw you doing something, with an ever present look in her eyes that you still couldn’t place. Although you didn’t exactly mind spending time with the younger woman, her perception of the world was enlightening, along with your shared interests in various topics that had never seem to intrigue anyone else except you-- until now, of course. 

You could feel yourself getting close to her, closer than you’ve allowed yourself to be in a long time. Not since college, you muse, taking a small sip of the chilled wine that Wanda had just brought you. Finally deciding, with Natasha going out for friend’s birthday party, that it’d the perfect time to finally share that glass of wine. You didn’t bother trying to argue with her, not when she looked so earnest in her request. 

Wanda settles next to you, causing you to shift your position, pressing your back into the arm rest, in order to be able to look at her. Emerald eyes were glued onto you, a smile playing on the edges of her lips, before she shifts into a comfortable position of her own. 

“So,” you begin, setting down your wine on the coffee table. “What are you planning on doing once you graduate college? Any idea on where you’d like to end up?” 

“I’ve always loved the idea of being a Producer, being the magic behind the scenes if you will,” Wanda replies, a charming grin catching her lips. “And, yes, I do believe there’s a place that’s caught my eye on where I’d like to end up.” 

You arch a brow. “Really?” 

Wanda simply hums in response, a spark of mischief dancing within her gaze-- a look that you had long since grown used to. It’s clear that she wasn’t going to answer you, not that you truly expected her to, after all what college kid has plans on where they’d like to end up? Ideas, perhaps, but nothing concrete as most go where the wind takes them. 

“Well,” you continue, a soft smile pulling at your lips. “I’m glad that you have everything figured out. I definitely envy you for that?” 

The younger woman’s brow furrows at that, bottom lip disappearing behind pearly white teeth. “Why do you say that?” Emerald eyes flit over the immaculate expanse of your house, one that you had strived hard to maintain through the years. “I think you’re definitely a few steps ahead of me in that department.” 

“I wouldn’t say that.” You wave the pseudo-compliment away. “All of what I have isn’t what I originally dreamed of, or wished for, myself, but when certain cards are laid out in front of you.” Trailing off, you run a singular look over the now empty expanse of your ring finger. “You either fold or raise, I wasn’t willing to do the latter. Not when it had so many other consequences attached to it.” 

“What would you wish for then?” 

You shift your focus back to Wanda, confusion etched across your face. “What?” 

She waves a hand. “You said that all of this isn’t what you originally wished for yourself.” Wanda shrugs. “What is then? What would you wish for?” 

“I wish I could find someone that’d treat me in the way he never did, that’d show me what love truly is, and make me forget about all that he’s put me through,” you sigh, taking another sip of your wine. “Of course, with my age, I don’t think that’s really in the cards for me anymore.” 

Wanda scoffs. “I don’t think that’s true. I think there are quite a few people that’d love to be with you.”

Something tells you, maybe some deeper part, a more sensible part, of your brain, that you shouldn’t continue forward with this conversation, that you should take her words as the compliment they are, but another, more needy part of your brain, one that desperately needs to feel some form of validation after so long, doesn’t want to in the slightest. 

Rolling your shoulders, you level Wanda with a look. “Really?” She hums in confirmation. “And who might those people be?”

“Me.” 

If it wasn’t for your back being wedged against the armrest of your catch, you’re fairly certain you would have reared back completely at the calm nonchalance in which she gave you the answer. “Y-You can’t be serious Wanda.” You shake your head, not believing at all what you were hearing. “I’m over a decade older than you.” 

She tilts her head. “So?” A salacious smirk tugs her lips upward. “I think that makes you even hotter.”

“You--” You huff out a breath. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Wanda. I think I’m going to get you some water because you’ve obviously had quite a bit to drink already.” 

But, before you’re able to even push up from the couch, Wanda’s hand grabs your wrist and tugs you closer. Noses almost smashing together, you’re only able to keep yourself steady by grabbing ahold of Wanda’s shoulder with your free hand. “I know exactly what I’m talking about,” she hisses, warm breath ghosting across your face. “I’ve wanted you from the first time I saw you on Nat’s phone and it only grew the moment I saw you in person.” Her hand lightly traces down your face, almost reverently. “You’re the most beautiful woman that I’ve ever seen. No one could ever compare to you in my eyes.”

The sweets words, coupled by the earnest expression etched across her youthful face, causes your willpower to begin to falter. How long has it been since someone looked at you like that? Spoke to you in such a manner? Have you ever had that? The thought makes something twist within your gut. 

“You’re my daughter’s best friend,” you begin, trying to force some semblance of reality into this situation. Trying to make yourself see reason before you did what this was no doubt leading to. “We can’t do this, Wanda.” 

“We can do whatever the hell we want. We’re both adults, I’m not some child.” She tugs you closer, nuzzling her nose against yours. “And what I want to do is kiss you the way you’re supposed to be kissed.” 

A hitch in your breathing gives Wanda all the information she needs, and seals your fate completely, but, even with that go ahead, at the clear sign that you wanted her as much as she clearly wanted you, her lips still descended onto yours at a snail’s pace, giving you the opportunity to pull away. 

You didn’t want to. 

Didn’t want to have this moment be ruined by what could potentially come after. For the first time, in what felt like forever, you were going to put what you desired, what you wanted, before everything else. So, when Wanda’s lips finally did meet your own, and you’re able to faintly taste the cherry chap-stick she seemed so fond of, you give your all to the embrace. Mouth easily opening to her questing tongue, a small moan escaping from deep within your chest at the feel of it entangling with your own, and Wanda seems to press even closer. 

At this point you’re not even sure where you begin and Wanda ends, being pressed so closely together as you are. All you do know is that you never want this to end, never want to go a moment without Wanda’s warm hands trailing down your body, slender fingers digging slightly into your sides to pull you tightly against her, never want to be without the feelings she invokes within your chest-- the butterflies she causes within your stomach. 

With a small snarl, Wanda rips her mouth from yours, making you just barely stifle the noise of disappointment the action causes within you, but the darkened emerald eyes leveled with your own renders you temporarily mute. Wanda’s chest heaving in her effort to get enough air, but she doesn’t once stop running her hands down your body-- seemingly not being able to get enough of touching you. 

“I want to see you,” Wanda growls, hands gripping the material of your flimsy shirt and quickly pulling it over your head. Darkened green eyes taking in each inch of flesh that’s been revealed to her-- on any other circumstance you’d be mortified by the fervor in which she was looking at you, but underneath all that hunger, you could see a sense of awe, a spark of reverence, as if you had just made a wish of hers come true. “You’re even more beautiful than I imagined.” Her head dips, pressing a hot kiss against your neck, tongue soothing the place her teeth had dug in. “I’m going to worship you, baby, I’m going to make everyone else before me feel obsolete.”

Your back arches on its own volition, pressing yourself further into the heated touch of the hand trailing down your abdomen. Burning kisses, that feel like they’d send the raging inferno coursing through your veins absolutely haywire, following the path her fingers had just traced-- sharp canines delicately nipping the flesh of your navel before her tongue sweeps over the flesh to soothe the mark that she had undoubtedly left behind. You’re barely aware of when Wanda had been capable of tugging your sweatpants down your leg, along with your panties, before tossing them in a random direction behind her, but you’re definitely honed in on the moment her tongue, that had just done such sinful things to your chest and stomach, made contact with the apex of your thighs. 

A breathy whine escapes you then, the feeling of Wanda’s tongue lapping at the wetness beginning to escape you, little hungry mewls escaping her throat, as if you were the most appetizing thing she had ever tasted, brings a whole new high to your pleasure-- something you had never felt before. Digging your fingers through her hair, tugging at the long strands to pull her impossibly closer, you’re rewarded by a breathy snarl, Wanda’s lips latching onto your clit and sucking it into her warm mouth-- slender fingers taking up residence where her tongue had just been, entering you hard and fast. Not giving you even a moment to get used to the new feelings before she’s pounding into you, the slender digits curling up just right to brush the spot within you. 

The sounds of your wetness, of the sloshing noises that Wanda’s fingers made every time she pulled out, would have normally made you embarrassed, and it probably would have, if Wanda hadn’t made sure to maintain eye contact with you throughout it all. Emerald eyes, blown almost black with lust, keenly observing every minute expression that flits across your face, tongue lashing across your clit in the precise moment that you needed her to, fingers scissoring inside of you the moment you felt your high coming that much closer. The simple fact that she already seemed to know your body so well, that she could already read your face, in a way that your ex-husband never could, makes the need to have her closer almost like a drug coursing through your veins. 

With the fingers still tangled in her hair, you tug her upwards. Seeming almost hesitant to leave, Wanda follows your wordless command after another thorough swipe of her tongue, her mouth latching onto your own the moment she’s within reach. And, the heady mix of yourself and something that’s inherently Wanda, fogs your brain, but you still have half the mind to wrap your arms around her back, arching more fully into her body-- needing to feel connected to her in some way. Moreso than you already were. 

Ripping her mouth away from your own, when air becomes a necessity, Wanda groans. “You’re doing so good for me, baby.” Nimble fingers are quickly accompanied by a third. “Taking my fingers so well. Fuck you’re so tight for me, aren’t you?” 

You nod, a soundless scream escaping. The stretch, the feeling of being so full, and the warmth of Wanda’s breath across your ear, a combination you never knew you needed until now. The cliff, that you hadn’t been able to achieve by yourself, and rarely ever with your ex-husband, seems to be getting closer and closer; you were more than excited to finally take the plunge. 

“That’s right, baby,” Wanda coos, thrusting harder into you. “Just feel my fingers in your perfect cunt. He never fucked you like this, huh? Never treated with the roughness you’ve obviously wanted?”

Something in her voice, in the darkened tone, tells you that this line of questioning wouldn’t be as rhetorical as the first. “N-No--” A sharp whine is pulled from your lips. “Only you. Only you’ve fucked me the way I’ve wanted.”

A sharp grin pulls at Wanda’s lips, her free hand gripping your hip in a possessive hold. “And I’m only ever going to be the one to do it from this point forward.” Her head dips, teeth digging into the sensitive flesh right beneath your pulse point. “Isn’t that right, baby?” 

“Yes!” Your back arches, your incoming orgasm nearly blinding you. “I-I’m so close. I-I can’t--” 

Wanda rolls her hips, shushing you gently. “It’s alright, baby. You’ve done so good for me. Be my good girl and cum for me.”

At her command your body finally releases the final coil that had been prepared to spring forward, as if it had been waiting for her words all along, and a keening cry passes your lips-- Wanda-- as your world is whitened by your pleasure. Only vaguely aware of Wanda’s lips pressing repeatedly against your cheek, her fingers gently guiding you through. 

When you come down from your high, from the toe-curling pleasure that she had given you, and your vision clears enough for you to see Wanda, still hovering over you, with that same look of reverence on her face from before, you couldn’t help the almost shy smile that appears. Something that causes Wanda to dip forward to place a chaste kiss against the smile, so tender from the hungry ones that she had bestowed on you only a moment before. 

“How the fuck could he ever leave someone like you?” It’s said in a low voice, one that you don’t think you were supposed to her, but her clear confusion fills you with warmth, nonetheless. Emerald eyes raise to meet your own gaze, softness suffused within it. “Will you give me that honor, baby? The honor of making you forget.” 

Your earlier words, said in a mournful whisper, come back to you instantly: I wish I could find someone that’d treat me in the way he never did, that’d show me what love truly is, and make me forget about all that he’s put me through. 

“I’m over a decade older than you, Wanda,” you rebuke. “Why the hell would you want to be with someone like me?” 

Her brow furrows. “Why wouldn’t I?” She lowers herself, finally pressing her body against yours, allowing you to feel the warmth of her skin, she places another gentle kiss to your lips. “You’re the only woman that’s ever made me feel like this. I don’t give a damn how old you are, I don’t give a damn if Natasha has an issue with it, I’ll talk to her, all I care about is that I get to have you like this again. That I get to love you in the way that you deserve to be.” Emerald eyes sharpen, her grip on your body tightening. “In a way that only I could ever give you.” 

Your eyes flutter shut at her words, something you’ve been wanting to hear for so long. Could you actually take this plunge? Allow yourself to take such a huge risk? Potentially cause a crisis with your daughter and Westview at large? What if it didn’t work out? 

What if it did? The gentle voice of your conscience counters. What if this is your chance at finally being happy? At finally finding the one person you’ve been searching for? Are you really going to let that pass you by? 

You didn’t know how this was going to turn out, how any of this would end up snowballing into years down the line, but as your eyes open and you peer into emerald green, a color that had enchanted you since you first looked upon it, you know your answer instantly-- have known it for longer than the question even being posed. 

“Yes.” 

Wanda’s answering smile, bright with her happiness, is all you see before she descends onto your mouth again, clearly wanting to show you everything that you’d now be experiencing from this point on. 

[harveysweakness]

If it’s possible could you possibly write something where reader and Harvey have been secretly married to each other for a few years the law firm doesn’t know since reader practices under her maiden name, anyway the firm finds out and tells them that they don’t need to hide anything. (Maybe they thought the firm would fire them or something?) idk up to you!

Thank you for taking my request!

A/N: Italics are in the past! I absolutely love this request! Thank you so much for requesting, I had a blast writing it! Let me know your thoughts!

"Mrs. Specter," your husband whispered into your ear, pressing his lips briefly to your temple. "I will see you in thirty minutes."

"Mr. Specter," you replied, leaning into his touch, "My driver is faster than yours, so I will see you in twenty."

He chuckled, the feeling of it rumbling through his chest against your back. "I like those odds."

He left, the fluttery feeling in your chest once again taking you back to the first time you met Harvey.

"And this is our newest senior partner, Y/F/N Y/L/N," Jessica introduced Harvey to you. "Y/N, this is Harvey Specter."

"You can call me Harvey," the man replied, holding his hand out to you.

"You can call me Ms. L/N," you smiled, shaking his hand. Jessica smiled.

"And that is why I hired her."

Harvey smirked, but his eyes didn't leave your face. And though you kept his gaze, the fluttering in your chest made you want to run.

-------

By the time you'd made it to the building, Harvey had already been there thirty minutes. He caught up to you quietly in the hallway.

"What happened to twenty minutes?" he asked, trying and failing to conceal the smirk on his face as the two of you walked briskly towards your office.

"Traffic," you simply shrugged.

"I think it was actually that you still hadn't done your hair when I left."

"Shut up," you muttered, both of your eyes falling to the approaching junior partner.

"Mike," you greeted warmly, "how's that case for Robinson coming along?"

"I've got my first year associate working on it, so good."

"See, now you know why I treated you the way I did all those years," Harvey responded.

"You made me work three times the amount of hours I'm having mine work," Mike retorted.

"What are you going to do, labor laws have changed," Harvey shrugged, glancing at you.

"Don't look at me, I was always nice to my first years."

"It's true, she was the nicest," the newest junior partner agreed.

"Thank you, Mike. I will see you and Mr. Specter later at the meeting."

"How many times do I have to tell you? It's Harvey," your husband called after you.

-----

You weren't quite sure when you'd started letting him call you by your first name, but it probably had to do with the all-nighters you'd started pulling together when the firm was being sued for fraud.

"I can't find anything," you sighed, frustrated. You held your head in your hands, rubbing your temples from the exhaustion headache.

"Me either," Harvey replied, throwing down his recent stack of papers on his desk.

"What are we going to do, Harvey?" you asked softly, scared for the firm.

"I don't know, Ms. Y/L/N."

"You can call me Y/F/N, Harvey. I think we've known each other long enough."

"Does this mean we're becoming friends?" he laughed. You couldn't help but laugh too.

"Something like that."

-----

"They know," you announced, shutting the door to Harvey's office behind you.

"What do you mean they know? It's been five years, they don't know."

"They know," you repeated.

"They don't know."

"Harvey," you deadpanned.

"Sweetheart."

"Harvey, you ought to listen to your wife," you said, crossing your arms across your chest and jutting your hip out. His eyes followed the curve of your body, focusing on your hip.

"You're right, I should."

"Not the time. I heard Jessica telling the other partners, junior and senior, that she needed to hold a meeting with everyone because of something going on with two partners. Everyone was there but us."

"Because we're busy and the best in the firm," he shrugged.

"Harvey."

"Sweetheart."

"Jessica then said, and I quote 'best-kept secret relationship the firm has ever seen."

"Okay, so she knows," your husband nodded. You hummed in agreement.

"So what? She's not going to fire us," he noted.

"So why is this a partner meeting?" you questioned.

"That I don't know, but I'll find out."

You nodded, turning on your heels to get back to your office, not missing Harvey's famous call for Donna to tell him what was going on.

-----

Not even an hour later Jessica knocked on your door.

"Y/N, can I borrow you for a last minute partner meeting?"

"Of course," you replied, hoping your nerves weren't showing through your voice.

"It will only take a few moments. We just need to pick up Harvey on the way."

Stopping at Harvey's office, you waited while Jessica repeated the same words to him before leading you towards the conference room. The two of you shared a look, feeling a bit on edge. While you were more the one to feel your nerves, Harvey typically put himself more on the offensive when danger seemed possible.

"Why now, at this hour on a Tuesday?" he asked the managing partner.

"It seemed like the right time," Jessica replied simply.

"Well it doesn't feel right to me," Harvey retorted. "I had plans this afternoon."

"I'm sure you did. Y/N, didn't you also have to cancel plans? Didn't you ask for this afternoon off about a month ago?"

If you weren't sweating before, you certainly were now. Even your husband looked a tad nervous. Neither of you had time to dwell any further as you took your seats.

"There seems to be a congratulations in order," Jessica began. "One that was due five years ago."

You paled, staring straight at her. You didn't dare sneak a look at Harvey.

"It's impressive, really, keeping a secret such as this for so long. It's not a simple task to hide a marriage."

There were murmurs and whispers heard around the room. Harvey's hand briefly found your knee below the table and gave it a quick squeeze.

"Would the couple like to reveal themselves? Or should I?" Jessica asked.

"Y/N and I have an announcement," the man next to you spoke up.

There were several surprised gasps around the room, causing your cheeks to burn.

"You're married!?" Mike exclaimed, seemingly unable to help himself.

"Have been for five years, three months, and four days," your husband responded smoothly. Mike looked like he might stop breathing.

"And they have been the happiest days of my life," Harvey continued. "And I regret nothing."

"Can I ask why?" Jessica questioned softly, her eyes on you.

"We never wanted to put the firm in danger, in a different light," you answered. "If people knew- clients, other firms- we didn't want to risk changing the reputation of the firm."

Jessica gave an almost apologetic smile, knowing what you said had truth.

"Cats out of the bag now. I guess screw the firms reputation," Louis muttered loudly enough for everyone to hear.

"Louis-" Harvey began.

"The firm will be just fine," Jessica interrupted. "And I did mean congratulations really were in order." Her secretary seemed to hear everything, for several bottles of champagne were brought in with glasses for everyone.

"To Harvey and Y/N, may you have a lifetime of continued happiness together."

You looked at Harvey, clinking your champagne glasses together with smiles on your faces.

"Screw it," you heard him mutter, before quickly pressing his lips to yours.

[mellowsadistic]

Before & After - The New Maid

Set in the world of The Magician’s Game.

***

Samantha Devereux came from old money, and she’d married well. She’d never had to work a day in her life, but there was nothing she liked more than ordering everybody else around. She’d spend her days strutting around her large manor house, barking orders at the maid, Hannah, changing her instructions constantly and forcing her to perform her duties within impossibly short timeframes. Poor Hannah couldn’t afford to give up her job, despite the awful treatment she received at the hands of her employer, not even when Mrs Devereaux went as far as to prohibit her from taking bathrooms breaks until all her work was done. The tearful young maid was forced to mop the floors and scrub the windows with a thick diaper flashing underneath the short hem of her uniform, a diaper that would inevitably end up heavy with pee by the end of the day.

It may have been Hannah’s burning resentment towards her boss that first drew the Magician to take an interest in Mrs Deveraux, and he soon decided that the arrogant heiress would be the perfect candidate for one of his little games. Samantha was shocked to suddenly find herself transported to a manor even more richly furnished and extravagant than her own, right when she’d been in the middle of chewing out her maid over some insufficiently polished silverware, but she didn’t have much time to recover before she was pitched into the game that would drastically alter the course of her life. The snobbish thirty-five-year-old was able to avoid taking any penalties in the first task, but unfortunately for her, her fellow contestants didn’t much appreciate her laziness and bad attitude (Samantha had never learned to develop much of a work ethic), and she was voted out at the end of the first day.

Although Mrs Deveraux cried and pleaded, the Magician wasn’t about to send her home without any ‘alterations’. With a magically imbued command, he ordered her never to pee or poop outside of her own pants again, much to her dismay. Not only that, he decided that a change in status would suit the entitled little woman, and with a snap of his fingers Samantha Deveraux went back to being Samantha Page; though she retained all her memories of her former life, in this new reality she’d never married Mr Deveraux, nor had she been born into a rich family herself. Instead she was employed as a maid at the manor she had once claimed as hers, confined to nappies and a frilly little maid’s outfit, under the strict supervision of the new lady of the house…

Samantha’s New Life

“Make sure that floor is spotless, potty-pants, or you won’t be getting your diaper changed before bed tonight.”

Samantha glared up at Hannah, Mrs Deveraux, through tear-filled eyes, but she didn’t dare stop her scrubbing. She knew the threat was genuine. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d been sent to bed without a change, forced to spend the night in a soaked, or even stinky, nappy. It was hard to get to sleep in a cold, clammy pair of Pampers, let alone one with a big, smelly mess in the back.

Over the past few weeks, Samantha had had plenty of experience dealing with full diapers, but that didn’t mean she hated them any less. Of all the humiliating features of her new life, there was nothing she despised more than having to let go of her bladder into her pants, or worse, to squat and do a poo-poo in her own knickers. Only they weren’t knickers. Not anymore. The only thing Samantha wore over her bottom these days were the thick, adult-sized baby nappies she depended upon to keep herself from making a mess on the floor. Noisy and bulky, they forced her thighs apart and crinkled with every movement she made, a constant reminder of their presence.

Samantha scrubbed hard at the floor, making absolutely sure there wasn’t a speck of dirt to be seen. Her knees were sore from the amount of time she’d spent crawling around the kitchen, scouring the tiles, but she couldn’t afford to take a break if she wanted to get all her chores done before the end of her shift. Her breasts jostled in the loose-fitting blouse of her uniform, wobbling stupidly beneath her like they always did when she cleaned the floor. Her outfit was skimpy and slutty – Hannah said it was to give Mr Deveraux “something pretty to look at”, but whenever he saw her, Samantha’s former husband usually did little more than wrinkle his nose at the sight of the used diaper peeking out from under the hem of her dress. She knew the real reason was simply to humiliate her even more; there was no hiding her nappy in her outfit, and the sexiness of her uniform only served to clash ridiculously with her babyish underwear, turning her into even more of a joke.

Samantha’s tummy made a loud rumbling noise. Her diaper was already drenched with pee, and with a sinking feeling in her stomach, she realised she could feel the beginnings of a bowel movement coming on.

“Would you like a bathroom break, Sammy?” asked Hannah, with a faint smirk. She was leaning against the kitchen counter, watching her work with a martini in her hand. “You can go and use the toilet if you want to. I’m not a monster.”

“No thank you, Mrs Deveraux,” Samantha said, as politely as she could, not pausing in her scrubbing. She didn’t want to give Hannah any excuse to discipline her, but she couldn’t stop herself from scowling.

“No? Are you sure, sweetie? It sounds like you need to go potty.”

Samantha said nothing.

“Sammy��” Hannah said warningly. “I asked you a question. You need to go poopy, don’t you?”

“Yes, Mrs Deveraux,” said Samantha, trying not to grit her teeth in anger.

“Then don’t you want to use the toilet?”

Samantha glared up at her former employee. Perhaps there was one thing she hated more than wearing nappies. “No thank you, Mrs Deveraux,” she said sweetly, just as Hannah had trained her to do. “I’d rather keep working and use my pants.”

“Yuck!” said Hannah, clearly relishing the sight of her ex-boss acting so slavishly. “That’s disgusting, Sammy! But I suppose I should be grateful that I have such a diligent worker, shouldn’t I? Go ahead then. Fill your diaper, sweetie.”

For a moment Samantha considered saying no, getting up, ripping off her soggy nappy and flinging it in Hannah’s face. But she knew it would do her no good. It wouldn’t undo the Magician’s power, and it would only get her into huge trouble. Clenching her eyes shut, face burning with shame, she did as she was told. She grunted and pushed, and a second later the seat of her Pampers bulged out behind her. She grunted again and continued to wipe the floor while she pooped. All she could do was keep doing her chores, and hope that by the end of the day she’d have done enough work to get herself out of the now thoroughly dirty diaper hanging off her hips.

[cameronspecial]

Drew and y/n finding out she’s pregnant after trying for a couple months maybe years?

A Trying Process

Pairing: Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings: Troubles Getting Pregnant

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.7K

Masterlist

Motherhood had terrified Y/N before Drew came along. She never thought that she could be a good parent. She didn’t know anything about kids and dealing with the grosser side of parenting really didn’t appeal to her. Y/N had also never thought that she would get married before thirty, yet she found herself walking down the aisle in a white dress four years ago at twenty-two. She just knew her life was meant to be intertwined with Drew, so the decision was easy. Two years into the marriage she finally realized that having a child wouldn’t be so bad if she got to do it with him. She had been watching him play with her baby nephew when she made the decision that she was ready to take the next step in their marriage. They had love. They had the career. And they had the house. All they needed now was the laughter of a small human. 

They’ve been trying for almost two years and they are losing hope. If they couldn’t conceive in two years, they would adopt and that deadline is fast approaching. Not that adopting a child wouldn’t be the same, but it would still mean another long process and the possibility of not getting a kid is still possible. 

Y/N has been feeling off lately. Some of her favourite clothes no longer fit properly and she has been puking more often. She tries to do the math of when her last period was, realizing she skipped last month. She debates taking a test and telling Drew her suspicions. They’ve taken so many tests over the past few years that she isn’t sure she can handle getting her hopes up again. At least, they’ve never gotten a false positive before. Y/N hunches over the toilet, emptying the contents from last night’s dinner into the bowl. She’s glad that she doesn’t have work today, so she won’t be late. Drew walks into the room and kneels beside her. His hand wrap around her hair to create a ponytail. The other rubs her tummy for comfort. “You’ve been puking a lot recently. Maybe you should take another pregnancy test?” Drew suggests. Y/N’s stomach no longer holds any content, so she closes the lid and flushes the toilet. He pulls her into his hold, kissing her on the temple. She shakes her head, “I don’t know if I can take another. I feel it takes a little part of me every time it comes back negative. Maybe this is a sign, Love. Maybe I’m not meant to be a mother.”

Drew pulls her back so he can look into her eyes. “Don’t you dare say that, Sweetheart. You will absolutely make a great mother. Whether it be to a biological child or an adopted one, the kid will be lucky to have you,” Drew assures her with a kiss. “I know it’s painful whenever we get a negative, but I’m hopeful that it won’t be this time. Whatever we get, we’ll deal with it together.” His hand grips hers and he brings it to his lips. 

Y/N takes the test from under the sink. They had been stockpiling them because they’d been using so many over the past year. She doesn’t need to read the instructions; she knows them by heart. She goes through the motions of taking the test with Drew by her side and they both sit on the bathroom floor while they wait for the test to asses her status. Drew’s alarm goes off. Beep. Beep. Beep. It was now time to see if their lives were going to change forever or not. They stand up together and walk over to the counter where the test awaits. She squeezes his hand to let him know that she wants him to be the one who picks it up. His hand shakes as he brings the test up for them to look at. Pregnant.

Both soon-to-be parents look shocked at the words, not believing what they are seeing. “I’m pregnant,” Y/N states. They both turn toward each other and a grin forms on both of their faces. Drew’s hand pumps in the air, “We are going to have a baby!” His arms circle her waist and he picks her up to spin her. “We are going to be parents,” she celebrates with laughter. Drew sets her down on the ground with a kiss. His forehead places itself on hers, “I know this was a trying process, Sweetheart. But we did it.” 

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia

[livwritesstuff]

another Hazel tiktok for your thursday :)

Hazel manages to convince both her dads to sit down and film a tiktok for this trend.

Once all three of them are in frame and the camera is rolling, she looks between her dads.

“Okay,” she starts, “Hypothetical. Would you still choose each other in a room full of attractive men?”

Eddie gives her a strange look, “Why are you asking me this? We’re married. Why would I–”

“No,” Hazel shakes her head, “It’s a hypothetical. You’re not married. You’re not even dating. You don’t know each other. You’re in a room full of attractive men. Would you still choose each other?”

“You aren’t allowed to talk to me about attractive men,” Steve says drily.

“Would you still pick each other?” Hazel repeats.

“Absolutely,” Eddie answers immediately, “Look at this guy’s face.”

He illustrates his point by reaching past Hazel to grab Steve’s chin.

“I’d have to be out of my goddamn mind to pass over this face, and then – get this – talk to him for five minutes and you’ll find out he’s actually the greatest person on the planet.”

“Oh, stop it,” Steve mutters, shaking his head.

“That would be what the kids are calling a massive fumble.”

“Ew, don’t say fumble,” Hazel scrunches her nose. She turns to Steve, “Pop?”

Steve is still thinking about it.

“Well…” he slowly starts, “I don’t know if I’d choose you.”

Eddie’s eyebrows fly up.

“Excuse me?” he asks as Hazel starts to giggle, “Why not?”

"I’d definitely think you’re the best looking guy in the room, but..." Steve pauses, “You’re just…I dunno, man, you’re kind of a pain in the ass.”

He’s already laughing by the end of his sentence, and they’ve been together for thirty years, so Eddie sort of saw it coming and he’s laughing too.

The TikTok ends with Hazel reaching for her phone, “Alright, I think we’re done.”

[imtryingbuck]

A Mother’s Endless Love.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC!Theo

Summary: Bucky has to marry a woman who surprises him more and more as their story goes along.

Word count: 1,687

Warnings: angst. swearing. death. talks of affairs. talks of past rape and being charged for it.

Masterlist   Series Masterlist

The maid who answered the door looked absolutely terrified, her whole body flinched as they heard something smashing - Bucky could also hear loud voices coming from inside - the woman opened the door even wider and lets him in, she scurries away further in the large mansion and out of sight leaving Bucky on his own in the foyer.

Following the sound of raised voices coming from the living room, he stands by the doorway watching the scene in front of him. A satisfied smirk pulls at his lips. Eliza stands there with tears running down her face, her hands shaking as she begs Michael to calm down. He can’t help but wonder how many times Theo did the exact same thing, he wonders how many times Eliza let up and let her go. That makes his smirk drop.

“You paid two million to put a hit out on MY daughter!” Michaels face was bright red, his voice was low as he spoke. And if looks could kill… well Eliza would have been six feet under already.

“Actually it was five million.” Bucky corrected, both of their heads snapping towards him. He gives them a tight lipped smile.

“You what?”

“Yep. Five million for three men to shoot my wife, your daughter.”

Bucky had seen plenty of men angry before. Of course he had. But even when the anger was directed at him - and nine out of ten times it was - Bucky had never seen pure, all consuming anger before. He could practically see Michael’s blood bubbling from under the surface.

Michael says something that Bucky couldn’t quite understand before he turns to face his wife, he asked her if it was true.

“I-I-I did it for us Mike she was in the way! I needed her gone. Please let’s just forget about all this nonsense, she survived didn’t she? What’s the harm?”

“That’s all I needed to hear.” Eliza’s whole body sags with relief whilst Bucky looks at him as if he had three heads on his shoulders. “I’ll see you soon.” He says before pulling his gun out, Eliza’s face pales and as she opens her mouth Michael pulls the trigger. Michael doesn’t even spare her a second glance as he walks past Bucky and goes to his office.

Pouring whiskey into two tumblers, Michael downed his before re-pouring. “I didn’t know until today, I had my suspicions but I thought if I got Theo out of the house Eliza would leave her alone. I was wrong.”

“How did you find out?”

“I overheard her talking to someone, it took ages for her to tell me the truth. I noticed that money had gone missing.” A dry chuckle falls from his lips as he shook his head. “She paid for my own daughter to be killed with my own money.”

Bucky nodded slowly, taking a gulp of his drink. “She should have had you killed. You know since you made her raise your affair child.”

“Believe it or not James in the twenty five years of marriage I never betrayed my wife. Not once. I found out Eliza was having an affair, I was devastated as expected, nine months later she gives birth to Matt. A few years go by and I meet this woman, it was never meant to happen but it did and James I don’t regret it, not one second. Jessica told me she was pregnant and I was over the moon, I was already planning on leaving Eliza because of after nearly thirty years I realised that what me and her had wasn’t love. I truly loved Jessica then Eliza found out about Jess three months after Theo was born, I went to the apartment that I had with Jess and” sinking further into the cushion and taking a deep breath, he continues. “and I found Jess bleeding with Theo in her arms, Eliza had shot her. She came out of the bathroom, we argued then she gave me the ultimatum save Jess or our baby”

Bucky’s heart sinks, he knows who Michael chose, and for a split second he feels for the man sat in front of him “Jess begged me to choose Theo, Eliza shot her in her heart whilst she was still holding our baby girl in her arms, she walked over to me whilst I watched my love die and kissed me on the cheek and told me she’ll be waiting for me at home” Both men just sit there and let the silence coat the air like a blanket.

After awhile Bucky sat further up “Why did you save Theo just to torture her all her life?“

“They were mainly done by Eliza and the girls, Bran would occasionally hurt her too. Matt never did, poor boy would try and protect her but it just made Eliza more mad. Every time I see her all I see is Jess and what I lost.”

“Did you even care? Care that your daughter who was born out of your affair was being beaten and raped by-“

“What do you mean raped?” Cutting the younger man off.

“You didn’t know? Your wife and daughters would charge men to rape Theo. Your sons in law were also charged”. Shrugging it off like it’s nothing even though it pains him to talk about what happened to his wife this way. He just doesn’t believe that Michael wasn’t aware of this.

Michael was known for many things but crying was not one of them, so when his burst out in a fit of tears Bucky struggled to sit still. “I-I didn’t know! Fuck! I swear James I didn’t know” Once again the room goes quiet, Bucky realises that the man sat in front of him truly didn’t know about what was happening to Theo. But that didn’t excuse his part in her pain and suffering.

Before Bucky can say anything Michael continues “I know what’s going to happen next and listen son I’m not going to try and stop you, just look after my little girl please and-“ standing up he walks over to the his desk, opening up a draw he fiddled with something Bucky couldn’t see “can you give Theo this please? It’s all I have of Jess. I had to hide this one from Eliza”

Handing over a silver thin photo frame, the photo inside is of a young beautiful woman smiling brightly at first glance he thinks it’s Theo. The similarities between his wife and her mom are so striking. The same smile, the same bright blue eyes, the same dimpled right cheek, the same twinkle in their eyes. 

Finding himself lost in the photograph of his mother in law, he wonders how much Theo is like her. He wonders if they had the same laugh, or if their voices were similar, did Theo get her love for painting from her mom? He wonders how close they would have been, would they have the same relationship as his own sister and mom had, where they were close and Theo could openly talk about everything and anything with no judgments? Even through a now old photo he can feel the warmth she no doubted gave off, he feels the sense of security and love in her eyes. His heart cracks as he knows what happens to the beautiful woman who looks so much like his wife. He feels sorry for this woman, murdered for loving the wrong man, the chance of seeing her only child grow up and become her own person was taken away from her without a second thought, punished all because she loved a man that wasn’t faithful to his wife. 

But yet he couldn’t help the feeling of anger trickle into his blood at the woman, she should have left Michael when he wouldn’t leave Eliza and then Theo would have grown up completely differently, a life full of love and not pain, a life without knowing how it feels to have her skin being broken and ripped apart. His heart clenches at the thought of Theo having a completely different upbringing, he knows their paths would have never crossed, he knows that he would of never felt true love if this woman staring back at him from the photograph, had just left.

“James, Theo’s original birth certificate is behind the photo and I know I’m already asking a lot from you but, but could you tell Theo I’m sorry for everything I did wrong to her and tell her I love her please?”

Bucky’s voice fails him so all he does is nod. Michael lets a small smile reach his aged face as he sits down at his desk where he pulls out a file “In here is my will. Everything is being left to Theo and you. It’s the least I can do. Please give her this too.” Michael takes out a necklace from his breast pocket, a heart shaped locket dangling from it. Sitting upright and straightening his tie “I’m ready now son”

Bucky pulls out his gun, finding himself glancing at the photograph and pulling it towards his heart - a way of protecting the woman who resembles his wife of not having to witness what he’s about to do. “This is for Theo and Jess”

Then a deafening bang goes off but he doesn’t flinch.

Sitting in the car with Steve to his left he holds the photo frame carefully and shows him what he’s looking at. “It’s Theo’s mom.” He smiles sadly.

“They look so much alike.” Steve gives him a sad smile too.

Bucky puts the frame down on his lap gently and takes out the locket, he opens it up and instantly smiles. On one side is a photo of Jess, and on the other is a baby photo of Theo.

Engraved on the outside of the heart shaped locket reads. ‘A Mothers Endless Love.’

“Vis take me home, please.”

Everyone in the car knows that he doesn’t mean the house that they live in, no he means Theo.

Theo’s his home.

<Previous   Next>

Tags: @sapphirebarnes @bellabarnes1378 @unaxv @skulliecadaver-blog @mrsnikstan @sebastians-love @pattiemac1 @julvrs @undf-stuff @violetwinterwidow01 @cjand10 @angrykitsune01

[naughtystiel]

DEANCAS AU FIC REC MASTERPOST

Although I loved all of these fics, the ones with stars next to them are my absolute favourites! Happy reading! ♡

One million fires burning ☆

Dean Winchester teaches three classes a day, tutors after school, and chairs the English Department for Lawrence High School. He does enough.

Unfortunately, his boss doesn't feel the same and informs him that he has a new job: co-coaching the school's trivia team. His co-coach? None other than the school's golden boy, Castiel Milton. Who Dean can't stand, for various reasons, all of which are valid, thank you very much. And the fact that Dean can't stop talking about the stick up Cas's, sorry, Milton's ass?

Completely irrelevant.

Should have just asked ☆

Despite their age gap and differing social circles, Castiel has struck up a warm friendship with Mary Winchester, a wealthy widowed socialite. When Castiel needs a place to stay, Mary invites him into her house, where there’s loads of spare room. Castiel’s aware that they make an odd pair, but he doesn’t fully realize how things look to outsiders, especially to Mary’s eldest son. All Dean Winchester sees is that his mom has apparently hooked up with a hot young guy (who is totally Dean’s type) and that makes things… weird.

Living in agony ☆

Dean Winchester's life is... well, it's not great. He's a gym teacher, he's in his thirties, and he can't seem to keep any part of his life straight. When the aftermath of a one-night stand goes awry, Dean is dragged kicking and screaming out of his cozy little closet and into the harsh light of reality.

Enter: Castiel Novak, the new history teacher, who knows full well that life gets crappy when you don't allow yourself to live it in the way it needs to be lived.

The last great race

There is a race that takes place every year in Alaska called the Iditarod, a thousand mile journey across the Alaskan wilderness by dog sled team that has come to be known as "The Last Great Race on Earth”. It is a test of endurance, of the relationship between dogs and their people, traversing mountain ranges, frozen rivers, forest and tundra.

When writer Castiel Milton is forced to spend two and a half months in Alaska at Winchester Kennels to cover the race preparations and the Iditarod itself, the only person more dismayed than he is Dean Winchester, one of his hosts. Castiel views his assignment as a punishment and is less than impressed by his surly host, and Dean distrusts the sheltered city-born writer who has invaded their home and their lives. But soon, as the Winchesters prepare for their race and Castiel learns about sled dogs and what a musher’s lifestyle is all about, they forget to hate each other and their relationship evolves into something neither of them expected.

Starstruck ☆

From the outside Castiel Novak looks like a regular guy: a good job, two teenage kids, a nice house and a crappy car he’s way too attached to.

But there’s one thing no one knows about him: that, over twenty years ago, he used to live next to none other than Dean Winchester – back then a brash and loud-mouthed boy and nowadays a huge movie star and Hollywood’s sweetheart.

Castiel never bothered to tell anyone about his childhood friend because frankly, who would believe him? Probably even Dean himself already forgot about his former awkward and weird neighbor, so Castiel seriously doesn’t see any point in mentioning the whole thing ever.

But then an interview on national TV happens where Dean reveals way more about his past than ever before … and Castiel - as well as the rest of the world - suddenly realizes that he left a much bigger impact on Dean’s life than he originally thought.

Russian to the altar ☆

“I need you to marry Castiel.”

They weren’t the words Dean expected to hear from his business partner’s mouth before their bakery-slash-chocolate shop opened for the day. He’d been quite happy being single—and who the fuck was Castiel, anyway?

It turned out that Castiel was a Russian erotic novelist in need of a ticket to America, and Dean… well, Dean was a last resort.

I wanna get outside (of me) ☆

Dean is a novice in the dom/sub world asked by his employer as a desperate last resort to be a sub for his recluse of a brother, Castiel. Castiel is a diagnosed OCD suffering from PTSD and agoraphobia, mysophobia, and dystychiphobia. Needless to say—he’s a mess who hasn’t stepped out of his home in literally seven years. The only times Gabriel can see traces of the way his brother used to be is when he feels in control—specifically when he has control over a sub. However, due to his idiosyncrasies and paranoia, keeping a sub around has been impossible. Enter Dean, who’s not a very traditional submissive, to try his hand at subbing for the hermit.

Painted angels ☆

Author Castiel Novak has finally hit the big time, with a book based on his failed college relationship with a brilliant painter. He's put all his pain behind him, but at a book signing, he comes face to face with Dean Winchester for the first time in twelve years, and the reunion doesn't go like Cas hoped. Dean's a broken man, with a lot of scars and secrets, shoulders weighed down by his demons and self loathing.

Cas sees a second chance with the man he's never stopped loving, but Dean's moved on, and is about to get married. Sam launches a "brilliant" plan to reunite his brother and his best friend, but Cas is worried it will all blow up in their faces, and he'll go through the agony of losing Dean a second time.

Texas state of mind

Dean Winchester was once an award winning country music star, but fame came too early. Now, he’s fifteen years sober and owns a ranch in western Texas. He’s happy with his life. He has horses, a nice herd of cattle and so what, if he’s alone. He tells his friends that he’s happily single. Back when he was touring, men and women threw themselves at him – but he knew they only wanted him for his fame.

Cas Novak just won his fifth CMA award. He loves singing, but the touring was getting old. Living in a bus nine months out of the year was slowly destroying his creativity. He hasn’t written anything new in over a year. Then he hears an old song on the radio. He vaguely remembers the handsome singer and wondered whatever happened to him. Before he knew it, he'd written a new song. The only problem was…it was a duet. A duet that could only be sung with a voice like Winchester’s.

After locating the man’s ranch, Cas makes a surprise visit. Will he be able to talk Dean into joining him on stage after all these years? Will the two men find what they’ve been looking for all their lives – someone to share a future with?

If angels were men

Castiel Novak was raised by a hunting father, but he left that life behind for college and a flower shop. When his father is killed by a demon, Cas jumps back in the game and finds himself constantly running in the presence of the Winchester brothers, who are searching for their own father. They seem to be everywhere he turns, and at some point they become friends, then a team, then, maybe, in the case of Dean Winchester, something more.

Vagabonds ☆

Dean is a sheriff in a tiny town in Colorado, restless and unsatisfied with his life. It's not like what he's read about in the dime novels since he was little, capturing dangerous outlaws and being the last word of the law. More like tossing the town drunk in a cell to sober up when they get a little too rowdy.

But Dean's chance comes when a thief rolls through their town. He pursues the thief, which puts him right into the path of Emmanuel, a notorious outlaw. When he is captured by the outlaw and his gang to be held for ransom, Dean starts off on a journey he could have never envisioned, and learns that perhaps there's more to Emmanuel than meets the eye.

Four letter word for intercourse ☆

As a grease monkey turned college freshman, Dean's constantly three seconds away from being stressed out of his mind. It hardly helps that he's finally figuring out his sexuality in his thirties.

What might help with that stress is a little phone number (and a big credit card bill). If he can't figure out how to be bisexual in person, he can at least give it a go over the phone, right?

(It's probably a bad idea, but he really can't help himself.)

Any little heartbreak ☆

Dean Winchester knows everything there is to know about the human heart.

Well.

Anatomically speaking.

Get some

Very slowly, Dean turns. 'How'd you know I was here about a room?'

'Power of deduction,' says Castiel, leaning against the doorway. 'I mean, you're not after pot, and I'm pretty sure we haven't slept together.' He grins wolfishly, gaze sliding over Dean's body. 'You, I'd remember.'

Dean's been hit on by guys before, but never so blatantly, let alone by a semi-naked dude in a kimono. A hot blush warms his cheeks, and he covers his shock with cockiness, tilting his head and grinning. 'Sorry to disappoint you, Cas, but I don't swing that way.'

Castiel throws back his head and laughs. 'And you want to live here? What, did your friends put you up to this?'

'Actually, yeah.' Dean raises an eyebrow. 'Is that a problem for you?'

What i need

A joking phrase commonly heard between a surgeon and his tech is "Give me what I need, not what I ask for." Dr. Novak and his tech Dean will soon learn the impact this phrase has on life outside the operating room.

Mad at your dad? ☆

Dean wasn’t sure why he was even scrolling through Craigslist. Especially not the casual encounters section. It was four days before Thanksgiving. Not like he was gonna try and hook up with someone before that shitstorm. After, sure, but not before.

He kept scrolling, though, not clicking anything until a title caught his eye.

Alone on Thanksgiving? Mad at your dad? I am a 28 year old male felon who has no degree, but has studied enough theologies of the world, behavioral psychology, and philosophy to set your whole family’s teeth on edge—no matter which way they lean, politically, religiously or in terms of neuroses. I drive a van the same age as me that’s got a mural on the side of an angel holding an orgy. I can play between the ages of 20-30 depending on whether I shave. I live off an inheritance, and sell weed on the side. If you’d like to have me as your strictly platonic date for Thanksgiving, but have me pretend to be in a very long or serious relationship (monogamous or polyamorous, whichever sounds most like it would freak out su familia) with you (and/or others), to torment your family, I’m game...

(dis)affection ☆

When Dean and Castiel are tricked to go on a date, neither is happy about this. To get back at their deceitful friends, they hatch the perfect plan: pretend to be dating, and gross out their friends with their over-the-top, disgustingly cute romantic relationship – and then break up in the most despicable manner imaginable. As it turns out, you can learn a lot from someone just by pretending affection.

Ninety one whiskey ☆

In the spring of 1944, the 104th Medical Battalion of the United States Army is disbanded, and its men reassigned to various infantry companies in preparation for their invasion of occupied France. For First Lieutenant Novak, this is less than helpful, as he has so far met his platoon’s designated medic a grand total of twice, and has both times found Sergeant Winchester to be the optimum combination of reckless, arrogant, and downright insufferable so as to make cohesive platoon function near impossible. When the time comes to move out, however, Castiel has to reconcile himself to the fact that men are going to go down and trust that Dean Winchester may well be the only person who can put them back together again. WW2 ETO infantry AU.

The breath of all things

Dean Winchester was twenty-six years old when a car accident killed his father and left him paralysed from the waist down. A year and a half later, Dean is in a wheelchair and lives in a care home in Kansas, where he spends his days waiting to die. It's only when Castiel Novak starts volunteering at the care home that Dean starts to wonder if a changed life always equals a ruined one.

If you'd have been the one

A boy sits on the front steps, his dark hair a wild mess. A gingerbread boy, Dean thinks. Dressed in pressed slacks and a sweater-vest to match his father’s. He looks about Dean’s age; maybe they’ll be in the same class. That wouldn’t be too bad, unless he’s mean. He could be mean; a lot of kids are mean to him, so he has to be mean back.

He hopes this one is nice.

...

In the year 1986, at seven years old, Dean Winchester meets Castiel Novak.

Eleven years go by, then eight, then three.

Somewhere along the way, things start to change.

Spirit of the west ☆

Dean grew up on a horse farm and can't imagine any other life. There are drawbacks to working for his father, but they're worth it if it means remaining with his beloved horses. Besides, between his broken arm and his lack of prospects, he hasn't got much else.

Something of an outsider, Dean always feels like there's something he's missing. But this tense summer brings back a figure from his past: years ago, a teenaged Cas worked for a season at the Winchester ranch. His return could change everything.

If you ever wanted a 90s horse girl book, but starring a young Dean Winchester, this is your fic.

Guns and wings

Dean Winchester is the sheriff in the small town of Sioux Falls, along with his deputy (and brother) Sam. Life there is calm and normal, easy to manage with the occasional problems. That is until the Garrison gang sends an assassin to kill one of their beloved citizens. Dean is ready to hang the man for his crimes, when the outlaw gives him a deal he can't pass up. The whole Garrison gang. Dean and the criminal, Castiel, set off to find the gang; enemies working towards a common goal. Dean is determined to hate Castiel, but the longer they journey together and the more he finds out about the outlaw the harder it becomes to deny the feelings he begins to have for the man. But he's the sheriff and he has a job to do, he can't fall in love with a criminal... Right?

Life was a willow

When Dean’s favorite author becomes a regular at his bar, Dean knows he’s done for. He never could have anticipated the intense feelings that blossomed for the talented Castiel. There’s just one thing standing in his way of being with Castiel the way he truly wants: Castiel is waiting for his soulmate.

Dean has spent his entire life hating the concept of soulmates. He just wants to live his life without the universe intervening. If the only way he can keep Castiel in his life is by swallowing his feelings, then that’s what he’ll do.

300cc ☆

300 Complementary Characters: a forum on Kansas City University’s student website. You can write whatever you want, but it has to be 300 characters or less.

Dean is crushing hard on Sam’s TA, but it feels different than it has before; it feels like he needs to do it properly, to have a grand declaration and to prove that romance isn’t dead. What better way to profess his feelings than posting a poem on 300cc?

Castiel is torn. There’s no mistaking the poem is for him, but who could be posting them? Despite being very tempted by the very attractive new light and sound engineer that will be working on the play he has written, Castiel can’t ignore the feeling that he and the anonymous Poet are meant to be together.

A comedy of errors, mutual pining, and erotic poetry.

Satin and sawdust ☆

When Castiel moves out of Jimmy's house and into his own place for the first time, he saves money on buying a home by investing in a Fixer-Upper. He knows nothing about how to fix the many problems the house has, but he figures he's smart enough to figure it out. Unfortunately it's not too long before he learns that he's way in over his head.

Thankfully his new neighbor Dean is a handyman, and agrees to help him out. He knows Dean has a bit of a crush on him, but he's not taking advantage of it, really. Dean's a great guy, and quickly becomes a good friend.

But a flash of satin under Dean's toolbelt changes everything.

Stay with me, sweetheart ☆

“Alright Cas, here comes the hard part. We’re gonna get you out of here, but we’ve gotta take the roof off and while we do that, we’re gonna have to cover you with a sheet to protect you from the glass. I’ll be right here though. I’m not going anywhere.”

As he starts to drift away, he suddenly feels the press of Dean’s forehead against his own through the rough fabric and hears that warm, sunlit voice murmer quietly in his ear, too low to be overheard by the firefighters currently working to remove the SUV’s roof, “Stay with me, Sweetheart.”

A single moment's distraction ends with a serious car accident that leaves Castiel trapped in his vehicle. Fortunately for him, fire fighter Dean Winchester is there, never leaving Castiel's side as the rest of his company work to free him from the mangled remains of his SUV.

When the two meet again in the ICU, Castiel finds himself just as drawn to and comforted by the handsome fireman as he was during his accident. Dean is certainly attractive, but single father Castiel doesn't have time or space in his life for a romantic relationship.

Then again, there's no harm in making a new friend, is there?

And this, your living kiss

Only a very few people in the world know that the celebrated and reclusive poet Jack Allen is just Kansas mechanic Dean Winchester, a high school dropout with a few bucks to his name. Not that it matters anymore; life has left him so wrung out he never wants to pick up another pen.

Until, that is, a string of coincidences leads Dean to auditing a poetry course with one Dr. Castiel Novak. The professor is wildly intelligent, devastatingly handsome...and just so happens to be academia's foremost expert on the poetry of Jack Allen.

Sometimes you'll find that i'm out of my mind ☆

Castiel returns from the Empty, and Dean worries obsessively. Dean also sleeps on the floor in Cas' room, which he admits is weird, but at least he's sleeping.

[babydollmarauders]

i absolutely love the el!hughes series. What about a blurb of them telling ellen and jim, luke and quinn and the team?

i got very carried away with this one. it’s not even a blurb anymore, it’s a fic 😭

*

it’s been a week since Jack and i found out i’m pregnant, and Jack has been itching to tell everyone.

i was able to hold him off until i could make it in to a doctor and get an ultrasound done, just in case the tests were wrong. but that happened yesterday and our results confirmed what we already knew. i’m pregnant.

now, Jack has spent the past twenty minutes just staring at the ultrasound pictures while i get ready for the day. i can hear the guys all yelling around the house, Ellen scolding them to be quieter.

my thoughts spiral as i think about how everyone will react when we tell them.

“hey. where’s your head at, pretty girl?” my eyes shift in the mirror to look at Jack’s reflection. he lays in the bed, sitting up against the headboard with the ultrasound pictures clutched in his hand, but rather than the pictures, he now looks at me through the mirror.

“are they gonna be mad?” i whisper, my hand coming down to lay on my stomach, already feeling protective over my unborn child. i obviously haven’t started showing yet, but it’s insane to me to think that someday soon, i’ll have a baby bump there.

“is who gonna be mad, baby?” he stands from the bed, pacing around it to reach me. he steps behind me, his hands flexing along the sides of my waist.

“your parents. your brothers. everyone.” i mumble, slightly embarrassed over my insecurities. “i mean, your parents didn’t even have Quinn until they were in their thirties; are they gonna look down upon us for having a baby when we’re so young? we’re not even married yet.”

“hey.” he coos, using his grip on my waist to twist me around. my gaze settles on my feet, afraid to face him. “look at me.”

i lift my eyes to look in his, the blue instantly easing some of my anxiety.

“they’re not gonna look down upon us. we’re young, sure, but plenty of people start families at our age. or even younger.” he tucks a piece of hair behind my ear, smiling down at me now. “besides, the marriage argument is kinda moot seeing as we only have five days until you become Mrs.Hughes.”

my face heats at the reminder. the idea of vowing to love him until death do us part only seems more exciting in this moment. i’ve waited for this moment for three years, and before that, i could only fantasize about dating my best friend. and now here i am, five days away from our wedding day. if someone told fourteen year old y/n that she would be marrying her hot hockey player best friend, i surely would’ve thought they were insane.

“they love you, and they love how happy you make me. even if they aren’t too supportive at first, once they see how happy i am about this, i promise they’ll be even more excited for it than we are.”

“did you just call our baby an ‘it’?” i laugh, lightly smacking at his chest.

“well, we don’t know the gender yet! i don’t wanna assume!” he replies, pulling me flush against his body. “you feeling better now?”

“yeah, i think so.” i admit. i crane my neck, pulling him into a soft and slow kiss. applying all my love into this kiss. pulling away, i brush my hand against his cheek. “let’s go tell them, yeah?”

“really?!” his eyes light up in excitement, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he pulls back to properly look at my face.

“yeah, babe. let’s tell them we’re having a baby.”

it’s no more than five minutes later that Jack and i stand in front of the living room couch. having successfully kicked Trevor and Cole, who were cuddling, off of it in order to seat Jack’s family. Trevor, Cole, Alex, and a couple of Quinn and Luke’s friends who are in town, stand behind the couch.

“you guys aren’t calling off the wedding are you?” Ellen’s voice is frantic.

“Hughesy, if you let that woman go, i will single handedly kick your ass.” Trevor raises an eyebrow at my fiancé, making me laugh. i blow a kiss to my closest friend since high school, after Jack.

“what? no! we’re not calling off the wedding.” Jack rolls his eyes, smacking my still outstretched hand away from my lips. he glances over at me and i steel my nerves, giving him a single nod.

“y/n is pregnant.”

the room is silent for a moment and i’m forced to scan people’s facial expressions for reactions; Jim and Ellen are stoically blinking at us, Quinn wears a smirk while Luke wears a slight frown, Trevor and Cole grin from ear to ear, and Alex smiles softly at us.

i clutch Jack’s hand in mine in order to ease my nerves.

“does anyone have anything to say?” i mumble. sensing my feelings, Jack turns his head and presses a kiss to the top of mine.

“i- um-” Ellen stumbles over her words.

“are you guys happy about it?” Jim cuts in, which makes Jack smile, nodding his head.

“yeah, we’re really happy.” he tells his father.

“scared! but happy.” i confess.

“then we’re happy for you!” Ellen cheers, standing to pull us into a hug. “oh, my baby is gonna have a baby!”

her reaction causes me to let out a deep exhale, letting the stress leave my body.

Jim hugs us next, bidding us a congratulations before Quinn swoops in.

“congrats, guys! and thank you!” Jack and i exchange a look, our faces scrunched in confusion.

“thanks! but what are you thanking us for?” Jack questions.

“because Luke and i made a bet on when you’d announce it. i said before the wedding, he said after. i won!” my eyes widen at Quinn’s words.

“what do you mean, when we’d announce it?” i ask him.

“when did you guys find out?” Jack chimes in.

“well we didn’t know know. we just googled y/n’s symptoms and pregnancy was the first result that came up.”

“you two couldn’t have waited a week?” Luke calls as he walks over to us, followed by Trevor, Cole, and Alex.

“i could barely get your brother to wait the week that we did wait. i don’t think he would’ve been able to handle another one!” i joke, patting Jack’s chest lovingly. the guys all laugh and Trevor throws an arm around Jack’s shoulders.

“congratulations bro! you’re gonna be a dad!” Trevor cheers, patting Jack’s chest a bit rougher than i just did.

“hey! i’m here too! ya know, the woman with the human growing inside of her!” i laugh and Trevor drops his arm from Jack’s shoulders, instead opting to pull me into his arms and pick me up in a hug.

“congratulations, y/n/n! hope you don’t get sick too much.” he tells me as he sets me down. at the mention of getting sick, i start to feel slightly nauseous.

“oh, you asshole!” i look towards the ceiling, swallowing and willing it away as Jack starts rubbing my back. the other guys all tell us their variations of ‘congratulations’ and ‘happy for you’ as we take a seat on the couch.

*

telling Jack’s family was the nerve-wracking announcement, but now Jack and i are back in New Jersey for training and we’ve decided to tell the team.

most of them were there for our wedding over the summer, but we opted to wait to tell them until a little later when the entire team could be together. besides, i know the other WAGS will want to throw me a baby shower, and our gender reveal is extremely soon.

“you ready?” Jack asks as we stop in front of the tunnel of the practice rink. the day just ended for them, but everyone is still out skating laps and talking with one another, making this the perfect opportunity for us to tell them all.

“yeah.” i shrug. “i’m not nearly as nervous for this as i was for telling your parents. besides, at least one person in there already knows.”

i point to Luke who stands on the ice watching us.

“you’re being weird!” i call out to him, causing a laugh to bubble up his throat.

Jack takes my hand, pulling me onto the ice. i shuffle behind him, not wearing skates.

“hey, y/n/n!” Nico cheers, grabbing my other hand to help me across the ice.

“hi neeks, thank you!”

“whatcha doing here?” Dawson asks.

“actually, we have an announcement to make.” i tell them, speaking just loud enough for all the guys to grow quiet, turning to look at Jack and i.

“oh Hughesy, don’t tell us you’re retiring already.” someone groans.

“what? i’m not even twenty-five, dude.” Jack scrunches his face in confusion, looking around the rink.

“no, no one’s retiring. or at least, not Jack.” i laugh. “i’m pregnant!”

it’s silent for barely two seconds before the entire practice rink erupts in cheers. the guys are quick to skate over, piling into a group hug around us as if we just scored a hat trick.

Jack’s hands grip my hips, making sure i stay upright on the ice.

“congratulations you two!” “congrats!” “happy for you guys!”

a chorus of different congratulations of every kind is thrown at us from all different directions.

“wow you really wasted no time during that honeymoon, huh?” Bratt jokes.

“actually, they wasted no time before that.” Luke pipes up. “they found out two weeks before the wedding.”

“and you waited until now to tell us?!”

[natequarter]

you wonder why the scots were so unstable, then you look at their monarchy and realise they had seven child monarchs in a row. oh your king's a twelve-year-old? that sucks. what, he's been assassinated? huh! good thing his heir-- HE'S SIX? good thing he isn't going to die a ridiculous death like getting blown up by a cannon any time soon! BUT NOT FOR LONG! what, he was actually blown up by a cannon? wow. anyway, we're leaving the throne in the capable hands of a nine-year-old. that won't go wrong! OR SO WE THOUGHT! well, at least it wasn't a cannon that took him out this time, just a little bit of rebellion and war. and we're leaving the throne in the capable hands of a competent and popular ruler.

BUT NOT FOR LONG! this idiot gets absolutely wrecked at the hands of the english. and by wrecked, i mean killed. great news for henry viii, terrible news for little one-year-old jamie (his nephew, i should point out), a.k.a. your highness, and fifth in a long line of idiots called james. (you'd think they'd learn to pick another name.) things work out eventually, right up until henry viii's lot come back onto the scene and get into a bunch of fights with the scots. unbelievably, things are about to get so much worse. in a real smart move, james dies at the grand old age of thirty. (i feel the need to point out that none of these jameses lived past the age of forty-two. and that's being generous.)

enter mary. she's catholic! she's not called james! she's the queen of scotland! and guess how old she is? six days! yes, you heard that right - six days. (and you thought six years was bad.) she's eventually whisked away to live in france and later marry the dauphin, handily solving the problem of the english trying to kidnap her and marry her off to edward vi. (she's five at this point. edward is ten. françois, the dauphin, is three. don't think too hard about any of that.)

they grow up. edward dies at fifteen. mary i, best known for her fondness for barbecues, dies five years later. françois, sensing a trend, dies two years after that at sixteen. mary returns to scotland, and all is well.

OR SO WE THOUGHT! whilst england was busy being torn apart by religious matters, scotland was busy being torn apart by religious matters. (you'll never guess what's happening in france.) mary, of course, is a devout catholic. some of the scots, who have spent twelve years without a monarch, let alone a catholic girl raised in france, are... not. rebellions! political instability! back to the status quo, basically. john knox is not happy, but when is he ever? elizabeth i kindly tries to help things by sending her bestie robert dudley (yes, that robert) to marry mary. this, unsurprisingly, does not go down well. fortunately, mary solves all these problems by creating a new one: she marries her half-cousin, henry lord darnley! yuck! i mean, yay! more rebellion (led by mary's half-brother)! henry turns on mary because he wants more power! he allies with the protestant lords, and they stab mary's private secretary to death in front of her whilst she's pregnant! the usual.

BUT NOT FOR LONG! mary and henry escape, they have a lovely little son called james (they still hadn't learn their lesson about scottish jameses), and they all live happily ever after until henry's house is blown up and he's found smothered outside in broad daylight. suspects include: everyone in scotland. but mostly lord bothwell, who proceeds to kidnap mary and marry her. now, you may struggle to believe this, but things go downhill from here. mary is eventually forced to abdicate, and flees to england. bothwell is imprisoned in denmark, and later goes insane. as for james, now the one-year-old james vi (anyone sensing a pattern here?), well, he's probably too busy learning to speak to care. because, you know, he's one. some people never learn.

from this point onwards, mary's kept under house arrest by elizabeth i. in a display of gratitude towards elizabeth, mary promptly spends the rest of her life plotting against her. or being involved in plots. in the meantime, james's regent, also called james stewart (mary's aforementioned half-brother; the name is cursed), earns the dubious honour of being the first head of government to be assassinated with a firearm. eventually, after mary, that virtuous angel, actively tries to kill elizabeth, elizabeth gets fed up and drops a sword on mary's neck. james, who last saw his mother at the age of zero years old, must have been devastated.

you all know what happened next: elizabeth died at the grand old age of sixty-nine, and james inherited the throne. thus followed decades of religious instability, parliamentary infighting, and stubborn monarchs who refused to listen to reason, which were surely new to the elizabethans. james, who was what is commonly known these days as a "hot mess" or "bisexual disaster" - don't quote me on that - was nearly blown up in a plot masterminded by a guy called tosser. sorry, i mean a tosser called guy. he also pissed everyone off by being a bit too buddy-buddy with several men, possibly lovers. (probably lovers.) that was not the end of the curse of james stewart (see: james ii of england), but it did at least put an end to mary queen of scots. oh, and england and scotland were united. that too. cue much chaos with a man you've probably heard of, named oliver cromwell... the rest is history. i mean, all of this is history, but you know what i mean.

and that's the story of why having seven child monarchs in a row is a really fucking bad idea!

[watchmegetobsessed]

OUR PAST SELF

A/N: its been foereverrrr since i last wrote for my fac family and im also celebrating 13k followers! im so thankful for all of you, i hope to bring you many more stories!!

PAIRING: husband!dad!Harry X Reader

SUMMARY: Reminiscing about what your past self would say if they saw you married with four kids.

WORD COUNT: 985

MORE FROM THE ANOTHER ONE UNIVERSE | SUPPORT ME!

“Babe!”

“What?”

“You have to see this! Come down!”

For a split second you consider ignoring your husband’s request that came from downstairs. You literally just settled down on the bed, opening your book you haven’t gotten to read all week. Chores are done, the twins are at Anne’s and Ellie peacefully playing in her room. You were supposed to have twenty minutes to yourself, maybe thirty if you’re lucky, but now it seems like you’ll have zero.

But then you think of the excitement you heard in Harry’s voice and you know you won’t be able to just sit and not think about what he got so worked up about.

“Coming!” you call out, placing the book back onto the nightstand where it will probably remain untouched for a couple more days.

Walking down the stairs you hear Harry’s song Satellite playing in the living room and it has you wondering what he is about to show you. But as you come around the corner the music cuts off and you find him with Leo in his arms. That little rascal is all smiles, showing all of his total of four teeth. He is the most adorable tiny gentleman with his curls and extra chubby cheeks. All your kids had cheeks that screamed to be pinched and kissed, but it seems like Leo got more of that gene.

“What’s going on here?” you ask, a smile already tugging on your lips.

“Come on, sit down. You need to see what Leo just learned!” Harry gestures towards the couch and you make yourself comfortable, watching him set the toddler down in the middle of the room. The coffee table has been pushed to the side, giving enough room to have a little dance party.

Leo watches his daddy with bright eyes as he grabs the TV remote and he starts the music again. Satellite starts playing and Leo giggles in excitement. Harry sits beside you, watching him proudly as he takes your hand in his, giving it a squeeze.

“Look, watch him now!” he points at Leo.

The song comes to the part where Harry usually does his iconic arm thrusts, the one that makes all his fans go crazy, because it gives an amazing view of his toned arms. But this time he is not the one dancing, instead, Leo is wiggling his arms that distantly resembles what Harry usually does on stage. It’s absolutely, ridiculously, whole-heartedly adorable, adding his giggles and how he bounces, your heart is bursting in your chest.

“Oh my God!” you squeak, grabbing Harry’s bicep as you lean into him, watching your son dance around to his daddy’s music.

“It’s so freaking cute, right?” Harry enthuses. Jumping to his feet he sweeps Leo back into his arms and starts dancing around, making him laugh even louder and there’s nothing sweeter than a baby’s laugh.

You watch them finish their performance and then they join you on the couch, Leo climbing over to you, settling on your lap. You brush his hair out of his forehead and kiss the crown of his head.

“Can you believe he’ll be one year old next month?” you sigh, snuggling to Harry’s side.

“Crazy, huh?”

“Mind-blowing,” you admit with a chuckle.

“You remember how it went when I told you I wanted another one?” he grins, poking Leo’s tummy playfully.

“Hey, you said you wouldn’t hold it against me!” you protest.

“I’m not, it’s just sweet how hesitant you were and now…”

“Now I couldn’t even imagine life without him,” you finish his thought, kissing Leo’s cheek.

“We’ve made some really awesome babies, huh?” he smirks, clearly so full of himself.

“Well, I did most of the work,” you purse your lips at him, not letting his head grow any bigger.

“You did,” he nods, smiling. “My awesome wife gave birth to four babies. That’s still so insane.”

“Crazy,” you hum, squeezing Leo to your chest gently. “What do you think our younger self would say if they saw us?”

“Like how young?”

“I don’t know. Maybe fourteen. What would fourteen years old Harry say if you told him you have a wife and four kids?”

“He would highfive me, because it means I’ve had sex at least four times,” he answers without missing a beat and you smack his chest as his laugh rumbles through it.

“You’re such a pig!” you tell him off, but then add: “And it’s just three times, because we have twins.”

“Damn, you’re right,” he chuckles. “But jokes aside… He would be shocked and… relieved.”

“Relieved?” you raise your eyebrows.

“I was afraid I might end up alone when I was younger,” he shrugs. “Marriage felt so distant and unattainable. But then came you,” he adds smiling and leaning closer he steals a quick kiss. “What about you?”

“She would be over the moon if she saw how hot my husband is,” you grin at him. “And she would probably ask what it looks like down there after four kids.”

Harry’s laugh roars through the room and Leo starts laughing too.

“I can assure her that you look stunning down there.”

“Oh shut up,” you poke your elbow into his side.

“What? I love your pu–”

“I swear to God if you say that word in front of our son, I’m divorcing you,” you warn him, but can’t stay serious when you look at his toothy grin.

“Oh, you wouldn’t leave the man who gave you the cutest babies,” he scoops Leo from your lap and walks back to the middle of the room. “Come on, Buddy. Let’s give mum a show,”

He turns the music back on and you watch them dance around and you could stay like this forever. You’re so loved and you have even more love to give to your family.

Yeah, your past self would be proud of you if she saw you.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[hard-core-super-star]

Hello, I have a request for Hailee Steinfeld x reader: The reader works at a law firm and is a serious and kinda intimidating person, while also being really loving with close ones. The two have been married for a while and have kids, and before their anniversary reader surprises Hailee with the help of their children with a cute little cake and presents. It was chaotic to calm the kids’ excitement but the reader eventually worked it out.

I’m sorry if the request is kinda plain or doesn’t have enough info, it’s my first time requesting:)

I just now discovered your page and I absolutely adore your writing, it’s super original and fun to read.❤️

honeycomb [H.Steinfeld]

pairing: hailee steinfeld x reader

summary: you decide to let your kids help you bake a cake for your wife and cute chaos ensues.

warnings: none; quite literally the softest, most cutest fluff i've ever written; cheesy nicknames; incredibly blunt children; hailee being way too proud of being the favorite

wordcount: 1.7k

a/n: first of all, thank you so much for your kind words, lovely anon! this request was NOT plain, it was wonderful, thank you for sending it in. i was giggling and kicking my feet every time i wrote the word 'wife' and i can only hope you react the same way while reading. [i purposely left the descriptions and names of the kids vague and gender-neutral so you can picture them any way you want...and yes, both of their names are references to hailee projects, i couldn't resist]

* * * * * * *

You’re not sure what possessed you to invite your kids to help you bake a cake for their mom but you’re sure your kitchen will never look the same again.

You couldn’t deny that the idea was cute, and you adored the smiles you received from the twins when you offered to let them help you, but now you were covered in flour and chasing around two eight-year-olds on a sugar high. Hailee can say whatever she wants but they both got that restless spirit from her and not you.

A restless spirit that was going to get somebody in trouble and considering how much your wife loves spoiling your kids, that somebody was going to be you. You don’t really mind, the mere thought of getting ‘lectured’ by her being enough to make you chuckle to yourself.

Unfortunately, you’re supposed to be playing the role of a responsible adult right now and laughing the way you are only makes the twins believe their rambunctiousness is being rewarded.

“Charlie, no pushing,” you say, forcing yourself to sound strict. (Or as strict as you can be with two adorable pairs of brown eyes staring up at you like you hold all the answers to the universe) “Come on, help me clean up a little before your mom comes home.”

Your request gets mostly ignored but at least they walk back to the kitchen with you. You walk around, cleaning countertops with scattered bits of flour and sugar, while pretending you don’t notice how restless they’re getting. Their excitement is too endearing for you to be annoyed by what a hard time Charlie’s having staying still.

It’s almost funny how much more tolerant you are when it comes to your family. If anyone back at the office was tapping their foot the way the small brunette is, you’d probably glare at them. Now, all you can do is smile and try to come up with a way to entertain both kids.

The more reserved of the two speaks up before you get a chance to offer them something to do. “When’s mom coming back?”

“Hopefully in the next thirty minutes,” you reply as you sneak a glance at the clock. You decide it’s best not to point out the fact that you’ve been saying that for the past hour or so.

Hailee was clearly running late but you’re definitely not the right person to complain about that. You’re just glad she’s found another project to be passionate about. Especially since it took a lot of convincing to get her to go back to acting once the twins were old enough to understand why their mom worked at such weird hours.

You were just glad your own job allowed you to work from home a few days a week so your kids never felt like they had to take on the world on their own. The last thing you want is for them to feel like you never spend time together as a family.

Hence why you asked for the day off from your highly demanding job to prepare a surprise for your wife. Every year she insisted more and more that she didn’t need you to do anything special for your anniversary, that spending time with you every day was the only gift she could ever want, but that never stopped you from finding some way to do something for her. This year was the first year that you got your kids involved and you can only imagine the look of joy you’re bound to receive because of it.

“The cake’s done!”

You turn toward the oven as soon as you hear the announcement with a smile on your face. “Good job, little bumblebee.”

The nickname is a little too on the nose for your liking but it’s incredibly fitting and it makes the twins smile like nothing else…except maybe Hailee. They’re going through a phase where all they want to do is be around her and honestly, you can’t be mad about that because you’re exactly the same way. That’s probably where they got that from actually.

The twins start chattering excitedly about the cake while you carefully take it out of the oven and place it on the kitchen island. It honestly looks good as long as you ignore all the chaos making it left behind. Then again, chaos seems to be the main love language of your eight-year-olds and who are you to deny them?

“Okay, who wants to help me decorate it?”

You had no idea the kind of response those words were going to get.

Turns out, the twins not only got their restless spirits from Hailee but they also got her creativity and her badly hidden perfectionism. (Although you might share the blame for that last trait) It takes practically all your energy and your focus to keep them somewhat contained and stop them from arguing about what shape to draw and whether or not to write something. You're in the middle of spelling out the word ‘anniversary’ for them when the distinct sound of your wife’s voice steals your attention.

“What's going on in here?”

The speed at which both Charlie and Em move is enough to amaze any speedster in any universe. Hailee just barely manages to brace herself before they both collide into her body.

“We baked you a cake!” Em announces with a smile that looks identical to the one on your wife’s face.

“Is that right?” Hailee’s warm eyes shift between both of the adorable faces staring up at her.

“Yeah, Em and I did all the work! Right, mom?”

You see no point in correcting your very excited child over something so endearing. “Yeah, that's right, bee. And you both did a great job. You didn't even need me here.”

“Of course we needed you!” You prepare yourself for the sweet comment that no doubt follows. “The shelves are too high.”

The sound of Hailee’s laugh softens the blow a little bit. There's nothing quite like the bluntness of a child, something that you've started to learn the hard way.

“Thank you for the cake, my loves.” She leans down to give each of the twins a kiss on their foreheads. “How about you guys go pick what movie you want to watch tonight?”

They immediately run off in the direction of the living room, giving you and Hailee a small moment of peace.

“Happy anniversary, darling,” you say as you make your way toward her. “Did you like your surprise?”

“Let me think about it,” she replies, her voice tinged with a playfulness you've loved and adored since the day you met her. “I loved it, baby. Thank you.”

You wrap your arms around her and pull her toward you once you’re close enough. “Don't thank me, I didn't do anything according to the twins.”

“Try not to sound so bitter, my love.”

“Oh, shut up.” You roll your eyes but the smile on your face makes it clear that you don’t actually mind the joke. “You’re their favorite and you know it.”

“It’s not my fault that they have good taste.”

You’d love to argue with her but you have more important priorities in mind right now. Starting with kissing your gorgeous wife.

You lean in for a short, sweet, kiss, relishing the feeling of her lips against yours after spending most of the day away from each other. She lets out a quiet hum of approval as you kiss and the sound makes your smile grow until you’re forced to pull away.

“I have a gift for you,” you whisper into the space between you.

“y/n-”

“I know, I know.” You give her a quick peck to silence her yearly complaint. “But I saw it and I couldn’t resist.

You reach into your back pocket and pull out a small velvet box. Hailee raises her eyebrow once she sees it. “You’re not going to propose to me again, are you?”

You laugh and shake your head. “No, I think I got it perfect the first time.”

You lift the box up toward her before opening it up to reveal the necklace inside. It’s not anything extravagant, and you honestly worry it’s a little too cheesy, but your wife’s eyes light up at the sight of it just the same.

“Babe…”

“I thought you’d like to have your little bumblebees around all the time,” you explain as your own eyes drift down. The cute charm dangling from the gold chain is of a small beehive with two tiny bees on either side of it. As soon as you saw it, you thought of the twins and you knew Hailee would love it.

The huge smile on her face tells you you were right. “I want to be mad at you for breaking the ‘no gifts’ rule but this is adorable.” She gently takes the necklace out of its holding place and hands it to you. “Help me put it on?”

She turns around and you’re briefly transported back to your first date. Back when you were young and stupid and sure you would only be a tiny speck in Hailee’s dating history. You’ve never been happier to be proven wrong.

You reach out to move her hair out of the way, letting your fingertips graze her soft skin, before clasping the necklace together and letting it rest on her neck. You can’t stop yourself from placing a few kisses along her shoulder and grinning at the sound of her breath catching in her throat. It’s these small moments that make you fall in love all over again.

The brunette seems to read your mind and she lets out a soft whisper. “I love you, y/n.”

“I love you too, Lee.”

The moment is interrupted by the sound of footsteps rapidly approaching you. “Moms, why are you taking so long?”

You respond to the question with one of your own. “Did you guys pick out a movie?”

“We couldn’t decide,” Em says with a tiny pout. “We want mom to pick.”

Hailee couldn’t hold in her proud grin even if she tried. “I think I love you more and more each day.”

All three of you reply with your own words of affection, filling the room with a small chorus of love. You step back from your wife and motion toward the forgotten cake on the counter. "I'll take care of the cake, go help them figure out what to watch."

She nods in response before leading the tiny rascals out of the kitchen and back toward the living room. You admire their retreating forms for a few moments, feeling like the luckiest person in the world.

[angelasscribbles]

All That She Wants Chapter 11: New Love

Series: All That She Wants

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings for this chapter: Riley x Liam, Riley x Drake

Word Count: 1,145

Rating: M

Warnings for this chapter: none

A/N: Welp, this is it, the final chapter! Thanks for taking this unexpected and crazy ride with me! There will be an epilogue.

My other stuff: Master List.

Liam spun her around the dance floor like he’d done a thousand times before. From the outside looking in, they were the perfect couple. She was Cinderella, a commoner whisked away by a handsome prince.

The truth was less glamorous.

Being queen wasn’t an easy gig. While Liam was head of state, Riley still sat on countless committees, showed up to charm diplomatic guests, had to always present her absolute best to the press and the public, attended a myriad of ribbon cuttings, and charity events, and had been a keynote speaker more times than she cared to remember.

Juggling all that with being a mother was difficult on the best days. While they used nannies for childcare, Riley refused to outsource the raising of her children to others. She and Liam were as hands on as possible. Innumerable bedtime stories had been read by her still in formal ballgowns, her shoes kicked off onto the nursery floor, getting those nighttime snuggles in between dances.

She did all of this while looking her best and keeping a smile plastered on her face. All while doing a million little things to make her husband feel appreciated.

She had earned her place by his side, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to relinquish it so easily.

Her children would be better off with both parents present and actively involved. Cordonia would be better off without the instability a royal divorce might present. Liam would be better off with his shining image untarnished.

But what would be best for her?

It’s all she had been able to think about for the past four days.

Olivia had returned to Lythikos. As far as Riley could tell, Liam hadn’t been in contact with her. Drake had continued his full court press attempt to woo her.

Liam had reverted to the attentive husband she remembered from the early years of their marriage.

But could she trust it?

After the dance ended, they returned to their table on a raised dais at the front of the ballroom. Waiters scurried around pouring her champagne and bringing her dessert.

Being queen wasn’t all work.

Being Liam’s wife had its perks. And though she very much enjoyed the privileges provided by wealth, her pride in her marriage had always been about the man himself and the family they had built. And they had built an amazing one. She could not have asked for two better children than the ones she had.

As the gala wound down, she leaned across the table to whisper in her husband’s ear. “I have an answer for you. Are you coming back to our rooms, or do you have any late meetings?”

He looked at her with hope and trepidation. “I’m coming. I’ll walk you back.”

“Okay.” Her gaze swung away from the man at her side and swept the room for another. She found him in the back, near the bar. Their eyes locked. She gave him a slight smile before returning her attention to her mother-in-law, who was prattling on about an upcoming luncheon they were both slated to attend.

Thirty minutes later, the king and queen were alone in their suite. Liam sat next to his wife on the edge of their bed, anxiety pinging through him. “What have you decided?”

“I’ve decided that I want us to stay married.”

“Oh, thank God!” that smile that used to light up her world washed across his face as he reached out and grabbed her hand. “Riley, you have no idea how happy this makes me! Thank you for giving me another chance! We’ll get rid of the Cordonian Arrangement! You won’t regret this!”

She pulled her hand out of his. “We’ll stay married for the children and for Cordonia. We will continue to present a united front in public but I’m moving into my own suite of rooms across the hall.”

Liam felt like he’d been struck. “What?”

“We will not get rid of the Cordonian Arrangement. If you want Olivia, you can have her. I won’t stand in your way. But you are not changing the rules now that they benefit me as well.”

He felt a little nauseous, but he also felt overwhelming relief that his public image would stay intact, the monarchy would remain strong, and his children would not have to divide their time between parents.

He couldn’t blame her for moving out of their rooms, and he couldn’t begrudge her taking a lover of her own.

He didn’t like it, but he realized he had no leg to stand on. This entire situation he found himself in was his own doing.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “You think Drake will agree to continue a relationship with you while you’re married to me?”

Riley couldn’t help the smile that danced across her face at the mention of her lover’s name. “Already has.”

“So, you understand my reasons, and you’re good with moving forward even though I’ll still be married to Liam?”

Drake looked down at the woman tucked under his arm, her hair wild and messy from their lovemaking. “Are you kidding me? What part of ‘I want to be with you no matter what that looks like’ didn’t you understand?”

“Just making sure.” She cuddled closer, relaxing into his warmth and the security of his love.

It was an amazing feeling.

“Right.” Liam didn’t know what else to say. A sobering thought occurred to him. “But a pregnancy will out us. I cannot overrule a provision that was passed unanimously by the council.”

“Oh, that.” She smiled again, a genuine, from the heart grin that he hadn’t seen in a long time. “I’ve decided to put that idea on hold.”

“Why?” He asked in confusion. Her desire for a baby was what had started this whole thing.

“Well, the more I thought about it, the more I realized how unfair it would be to the child to be brought into the world just because I was lonely. It’s not a child’s place to fix their parent’s issues. Besides that, I’m not really that lonely anymore!”

Her smile and exuberance made his heart clench a little as the full impact of his actions crashed into him.

She used to smile like that for him, at him, because of him. Now another man put that smile on her face and he would have to live with it.

He watched as she threw a few things into a bag. “You don’t have to go right now. Wouldn’t it be easier to move in the morning?”

“Oh, yeah…no. I have… plans tonight.”

He closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. He opened them again when she called his name. “What?”

“I’m sorry if this hurts you, but now you know how I felt for the last two years.”

And with that, she was gone.

Epilogue

[ckret2]

Is there any billford-type stuff in the AU, either past or possible? If there is (and even if there isn't) I'm curious about Ford's thoughts on the situation! Is he scared, angry? Does he really believe Bill is as powerless as he says he is? Is he uncomfortable with, or even worse, would he feel some weird jealousy about Bill paying so much attention to everyone else? Agent Powers in particular.

This anon was an absolute considerate sweetheart and sent me two versions of this question—one that mentions Billford, and one that doesn't in case I'm uncomfortable with answering that. As it happens I've got a really long answer, so I'm using this version of the question to talk about billford-specific stuff and the other ask to answer the other half of the question!

Lately I've been seeing a ship dynamic that's described as "they were never married but they're sure as hell divorced." That's how I see Bill & Ford's dynamic.

Ford spent a couple of years with a slow burning background obsession with Bill as some capricious here-and-gone-again muse who never stuck around as long as Ford wanted; and then spent several months intensely obsessed with this mystical guide and teacher who suddenly was showing up a lot more and tantalizing him with the secrets of the universe. But Bill was always some distant, unobtainable figure, more an ideal than a person. Ford got manic pixie dream girled by a manic pixie nightmare demon.

Back when Ford thought Bill was his friend, I don't think Ford's feelings toward him were romantic/sexual—but I think that at the peak of Ford's feelings, when he'd been isolated from all his other emotional support and hadn't yet realized what Bill was doing, his feelings were sufficiently intense that they COULD have been anything Bill wanted to make them. If Bill had decided to unironically declare himself a god, Ford would have built a temple. (He was halfway there already.) If Bill had called for a revolution, Ford would have asked who they were assassinating first. If Bill had informed Ford he was offering him the honor of being Bill's mortal lover, then Ford woulda gone down like Icarus for Apollo.

Now, with thirty years of ABSOLUTE HELL in between, Ford recognizes how mentally vulnerable he'd been to this abstract space angel muse's gifts and flattery. Even though he didn't fall in love, on some level he knows he could have. He's subconsciously aware of that soft spot, all spoiled and rot-mushy after thirty years of enmity, and he can feel that soft spot getting prodded every time Bill speaks. The mere fact that he could have fallen is something Ford hates himself for. And the knowledge of that weakness is one of the many things motivating him to keep Bill at an emotional arm's length in this AU, to ensure Nothing Happens.

(Spoilers: Something Happens.)

After Ford found out the truth about Bill, he got dragged into the nightmare realm, had ONE confrontation with Bill, and then didn't see or talk to him again for thirty years... but Ford dedicated every single second of those thirty years to finding a way to kill Bill. Obsession in absentia.

So almost half of Ford's life has been spent on worship of Bill—assuming you count Captain Ahab's hatred of Moby Dick as "worship." All that—from a smattering of staggered-out dreams, and a scant few confrontations under three minutes. After thirty years, Bill's become more symbol than person to Ford: an evil Eye of Providence that can be blamed for everything wrong in the universe. 

But once this AU starts and human Bill's stuck in the Shack, it takes less than a week before Ford's spent more time around Bill than he did over the last 32+ years combined. What a shock to the system. The alleged shadowy figure behind every conspiracy theory in history—and Ford figures out where he is in the house by listening for thuds and yelps whenever he stumbles into furniture. All-seeing eye peering out of every wallet and into every dream—and when he naps on the back porch, he lets Ford's grandniece & her friends sit on his back and around him while they gossip. Omnicidal maniac-god—and he begs his captors to let him go to a monster truck show he saw in the newspaper.

Ford's seeing Bill as a person and he hates it. He doesn't know if Bill is a master at fake-acting like a normal person with normal little personality quirks and interests—or if this is some new side to Bill that only exists because he's now human—or if Ford's just never actually met Bill before now.

Before he learned Bill is evil, Ford saw him as a capricious bizarre trickster and font of untold otherworldly wisdom—and he liked that person/thing a lot. Now, meeting Bill as a human, Ford's seeing him as a flighty weirdo goofball who casually happens to know a whole lot about everything. Which is a bunch of synonyms for what Ford used to see Bill as before. And unfortunately he still likes that a lot.

It's just too bad those traits are on the cruel, manipulative destroyer that ruined what should have been the best years of Ford's life and almost killed him, his family, and his universe.

Skipping over the less shippy half of the question to answer in the less shippy ask, and addressing just the jealousy question:

I do intend for things to eventually get real gay, but how soon, how gay, and in what order related to other plot events, I'm not sure yet. Like, at the start of the fic Ford just flat out hates Bill—none of this "hate with secret attraction underneath" business, he just hates him. If that hasn't changed by the time Bill goes and seduces a government agent for information, Ford sure ain't gonna be jealous. If anything he's gonna pity Agent Powers and be relieved for his sake when Powers leaves without Bill doing anything worse than stealing a few government secrets.

Even as Ford's feelings on Bill start to change, and as their relationship progresses from "two cats who hiss at each other on sight" to whatever nebulous probably-romantic place I'm gonna settle on it finishing.... I have a hard time imagining Ford as the getting-jealous type? Particularly given that the target is Bill, here. Most of the "attention" Ford sees Bill giving other townspeople is either lowkey manipulative or strictly sexual; and for Bill, sex is impersonal weird meat games rather than a genuine emotional connection. But then the fact that Bill doesn't think like a human doesn't necessarily mean Ford wouldn't be subjected to involuntary irrational human emotions so, *makes a weighing hands gesture?*

I read an article once on how people react to cheating that basically boiled down to "some people see sexual infidelity as not as big a deal but would be devastated by their partner falling in love with someone else, whereas other people see emotional infidelity as not a big deal as long as their partner remains sexually loyal"—and even though "cheating" isn't part of the equation here, I think that where jealousy is concerned, Ford cares more about whether someone he's interested in is emotionally intimate rather than physically intimate with other people. And Bill... by all appearances, he doesn't do emotional intimacy. No worries there.

Anyway, outside of the immediate household, Bill spreads little bits of attention to a lot of different people—but Ford is one of the few people he gives a lot of attention to. "Attention" isn't a euphemism and the attention isn't a good thing. When he stops letting Ford know how much he plans to kill him, it's only to switch back to trying the "win over the nerd with flattery" technique, which No Longer Works On Ford and is Very Insulting. 

[cowgurrrl]

Ok listen LISTEN ! I would love to see the twins go through a clingy dad phase. Rockstar!Joel feeling like he won the round and reader just thinking he is ridiculous but still slightly jealous. Please 💛

I love this idea!! I hope you enjoy 💛💛 (ps I’m slowly working through requests so there’s more coming!!)

Lucky

Pairing: rockstar!joel x actress!reader

Summary: this ask

Warnings: none just fluffy reassurances :-)

Thirty-six weeks of sleepless nights spent trying to get comfortable, high-risk doctors, blood test after blood test, and a total carriage of ten pounds of baby only for them to cling to their father three years later. You're not upset. Joel is a great dad. It's one of the reasons you married him. Still, when you're on tour, and the girls only want to hang out with their dad 24/7, even though he's technically working, and your redirections to their favorite things like ice cream and Bluey don't take their mind off their dad, you have to admit you feel a little flustered. It didn't help when Violet told you, "Daddy is more funner than you."

You're not upset. Joel is fun. Especially when he gets all three little kids in a golf cart and races it around whatever stadium you're in. Sam and the girls giggle maniacally as Ellie, JJ, and Dina follow close behind them, giving the security team a little excitement when they accidentally speed past the glass doors where hundreds of fans are already lined up. You swear the screaming shakes the ground when they catch a glimpse of not only Joel but Ellie. When he has to go to soundcheck, you have to wrestle the kids to the green room set aside for your family. Even when you get them set up, the girls cry and whine for their dad, wanting absolutely nothing to do with you.

You're not upset when the three of them dogpile onto Joel the second he can sit down. You're not upset when the girls make drawings for him instead of you. You're not upset when they suddenly resent your bedtime routine and only want their dad, who's on stage and can't just leave to read "Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See?" You're not upset. You're not upset. You're not upset. You repeat it over and over again as you juggle three kids, all under the age of ten, while simultaneously helping Dina with JJ. No wonder the girls think Joel is more fun than you are.

"I think it's funny." Joel chuckles when you mention it to him after one of his shows and the kids have all gone to bed. You sigh and run a stressed hand through your hair.

"Of course you do."

"Remember when Sam went through the same phase?"

"Yeah, but that was just one kid. This is two. Two who lived in my body for almost nine months and are the reason I pee a little when I sneeze," you're dead serious, but a smirk pulls on Joel's lips. He saunters over to you and grabs your hands before you can defiantly cross them over your chest, and you roll your eyes. "Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Work your Joel Miller magic. I wanna sulk in my emotions for a little longer."

"Honey," he says gently, and you give him a look. "Are you jealous?" He asks. You want to scoff and push him away and insist that you're not, but you've been together for too long to pull that anymore. You take a deep breath and look down at your joined hands.

"It's stupid." You mumble.

"It's not stupid. Not if it's botherin' you." God fucking dammit, you think. Sometimes, it's annoying how good he is at being a supportive husband. It's not that he doesn't have his moments where he leaves his shoes in the middle of the living room or goes to the store and buys everything except the one thing you asked him to get, but this— making you feel heard and supported— is something he's always been a master at.

"I'm not a rockstar, Joel. When they come to work with you, they get to be loud and crazy and have fun. When they come to my work, they barely understand what I'm doing and why. And to top it all off, they have to be quiet and still. Otherwise, we'll have to reset and start all over again, which makes me stay longer and makes them antsy," you ramble. "Plus, they probably like you more because they've seen the trailers of me kissing other actors and subconsciously think I'm cheating on you."

"Woah, woah, woah," Joel says, struggling to figure out where to start with all the information you just gave him. "First of all, I think you're givin' too much credit to our three and seven-year-olds. Second of all, you're bein' way too mean to my wife." And there it is. The Joel Miller Magic. You sigh and try to get away from the stupidly sweet look in his eyes, but he drops your hands to gently hold your face.

"Those kids love you. I love you. JJ and Isaac love you. You're the glue holdin' us all together. I wouldn't be able to do half the things I do without you by my side. When they asked us to go on tour, you're the one who said we should. You pushed me to make this album. You gave me the biggest inspirations of my life. You are a fuckin' rockstar, baby," he says with so much conviction that you have no choice but to believe him. “This is just a phase. They’ll grow outta it.”

“How happy did it make you to be the one to say that to me instead of the other way around?”

“We don’t gotta get into the logistics.” He says and you laugh. He smiles too and kisses your forehead, swiping affectionate lines across your cheekbones with his thumbs. “Feel better?”

“A little.” You say.

“Only a little?”

“I mean, the parenting compliments were pretty good.”

“Yeah?” He asks and you nod. He kisses your forehead again before trailing down your nose, your cheeks, and jaw before finally kissing your lips. “Would it help if I said somethin’ about how hot you are?”

“Maybe.” You mumble against him and he smiles.

“You’re so fuckin’ hot.” He says, his voice deep and low the way he knows sends a shivers down your spine. You feel your face flush and hide it in his shoulder, wrapping him in a hug.

“Thank you,” you say sincerely, and he knows it’s not just about the compliments or the physical affection but the reassurances he gave you. He hums, obviously smug as he rubs your back.

"Are you still riding your high of being the fun parent?"

"Oh, yeah."

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @moonandseatgr-yngf @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @korynnekorynne @anavatazes @marantha