#and then it shows up at your house and your husband is horrified at what you have the power to do | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

infiniteimaginings · 3 months

Note

Could you write some angsty Anthony bridgerton x wife reader. Maybe he took his anger out on her cus he was stressed or something.💋😭😫🩷

A Loving Marriage (Anthony Bridgerton x Fem!Reader)

Summary: Anthony had married you, he adored you during your courtship. He showed his affections through floral arrangements, joyous laughter, your dance card always had his name first. When he married you though, some things changed. He would be warm, but it slowly dimmed. He was always in his office, he never spoke to you, why does he do so? Pronouns: You/Yours, She/Her Warnings: Angst Word Count: 4.0k A/N: I love angst, I love it! I looked at this request three times, midnight struck, and I turned into a writing goblin.

It had been a nice day, you had finally drawn your husband, Anthony Bridgerton, out of the house to have a delightful picnic with you. The two of you were discussing anything but pressing matters, laughing, eating the small sandwiches, drinking the sweet but tart lemonade. Occasionally your fingers would touch, a burst of energy escaping into your bodies until your fingers interlocked, accepting the warmth with open arms.

The sun was shining brightly, the clouds perfect white and fluffed into shapes the two of you pointed out and playfully teased each other for. The slight tilt of his head when you spoke of a cloud being shaped as one thing, his squinted eyes and scrunched nose were all that mattered to you. The way the sun kissed his skin and a few freckles had come to light, it was so beautiful to you, he was so beautiful.

When Anthony turned his gaze to you from the heavily brightened sky, the corners of his eyes crinkled with the smile he gave you. His toothy grin was matched with him asking, “What is it?” You paid no mind to the question, simply smiling at your husband, your heart warming as you stared at him in adoration. You shook your head, “I just love you.” You told him, the comment making him smile wide, his teeth showing in his grin. The day was beautiful, and neither of you could deny that fact. To make the day even more beautiful, flowers were spread around your blanket on the ground, showing proof of spring.

You began to ramble a bit about the newest items you saw in the shop, Anthony just listening with loving eyes. A bee had hummed and buzzed as it circled around your head, when Anthony noticed he straightened up, his eyes widening a bit in fear. He went to move the dreadful creature from you but the bee had found its attention with him instead, buzzing around his head. Anthony had fallen still, horrified.

Anthony had just returned from shooting with his father, Edmund Bridgerton. The elder man had clasped his shoulder, telling him that in due time he will be able to show someone his best. He gave him a truthfully meaningful message about having to show someone your worst before you can show them your best, but the message didn’t stay in Anthonys head very long.

The elder had noticed a group of vibrant purple Hyacinths within their gardens, his wife's favorite flower. He decided to pick the flowers with a hum, expressing how Anthonys mother would love them. The younger boy laughed and began to pick a few himself, his father standing up, swatting a very persistent bee, Anthony shaking his head playfully. He expressed how his younger sister would be quite jealous until he noticed his father had not responded.

”Father?” Anthony spoke, turning to Edmund, the man was touching his neck. “The bloody thing stung me.” He told his son, moving his hand a bit with a twitch of his mouth. A bee sting didn’t mean much, so Anthony nodded and continued to pick a few flowers until his father began to gasp for breaths. Anthony stood, walking to Edmund, “Father, what is it?” He asked, and that question would be repeated a multitude of times with no verbal response.

Edmund Bridgerton had turned to his son, a bright red patch on his neck where the bee stung him, his face extremely pale, his eyes almost black as he struggled to breathe. Anthony watched his father struggle for air and collapse into his arms. He couldn’t even hear when he yelled for someone to help, he didn’t even hear when his pregnant mother, Violet Bridgerton, had come running down the small hill after seeing them through the open door in the back of their home.

Everything happened so fast and all Anthony could process was his father reaching up to cup his mothers cheek one last time, before his hand fell and the light left his eyes. Edmund Bridgerton died that day, Violet Bridgerton became a widow that day, he and his siblings lost their father that day.

Anthony was abruptly snapped out of his thoughts when you swatted the bee away mindlessly. You hummed with a breathless chuckle, “You know it’s spring when the bees are out.” you spoke, looking in the basket for another small snack, unaware of the daze Anthony had just been in. He blinked a bit, looking around as he deeply inhaled, trying not to ruin your nice moment. He clapped his hands to his knees, “Well then.” He began, “I think I have some paperwork to attend to.” He told you, standing up and brushing himself off. You looked up rather quickly from your spot on the blanket, “Can’t it wait? We were having such a nice time.” You said, pouting ever so slightly.

He shook his head, leaning down to you, pressing his lips to yours in a short kiss. “Unfortunately it can not, enjoy the rest of the picnic.” He spoke hastily, walking back into the home, leaving you alone to watch the sky.

Days had passed, Anthony had not joined you again for a picnic, nor had he joined you for any sort of meal after that day. You didn’t understand why he felt the need to lock himself in his office, what was so interesting about paperwork he could tend to at any time? You were worried for him, you knew the footmen in the household brought him food, you just weren’t sure if he ate any of it.

With that, you decided to pay your husband a visit. You dismissed the footman at the door and simply knocked, a muffled ‘Come in’ came from the other side of the door. You gently opened it, smiling sweetly at Anthony who looked up at you, expressionless. You closed the door behind you, observing your surroundings and your husband who sat behind a desk, papers piling it. He looked like he hadn’t slept, if he had then he looked like her hadn’t slept well.

You walked to him, slow steps, the heels of your shoes sounding muffled as they clicked upon the polished floors. “You’ve locked yourself away.” You told him, standing in front of his desk, fingers twiddling in front of you. Anthony kept his eyes on you, quill pen in hands, plenty of papers around that needed signatures. He cleared his throat, “Well, some matter can not be left.” He told you simply, head looking back down to his work.

You walked around the desk, hands smoothing along his shoulders, he tensed more than relaxed. “You need a break.” You hummed to him, gently pressing your hands into the blades of his shoulders. Anthony leaned his head back into the chair, sighing, “I’m sorry my love, I just have so much work to do.” He told you with closed eyes, his mouth in a frown. Your expression mirrored his and you turned his chair a bit, taking his hands in yours. “We should go to town, go for a walk.” You suggested, “Maybe we could pick some flowers and visit your family.” You continued on, hands holding his slightly larger ones in yours.

You saying that seemed to invoke some sort of reaction from your husband, he removed his hands from you, “No.” He spoke harshly, turning back to the papers. You huffed, trying to get him to look at you, he wouldn’t budge. “Why do you refuse to spend time with me? Is your paperwork that important?” You pressed on, standing at his side, pure disbelief on your face.

Anthony put his clenched fists on the desk, “Yes, it is!” He spoke loudly, not looking at you. “You are interrupting very pressing matters, so go.” He told you, head turning to you ever so slightly, one hand raised to point to the door.

The outburst had shocked you, you stood there with a hand to your chest, a frown on your face, tears threatening to prick your eyes. “Anthony I merely hoped…” You began, trying to find the words, instead you found yourself stumbling over them. Anthony shook his head, hand to his temple as he looked back down to the papers, “I care not for your wishes, leave!” HeYou stood up straight, swallowing harshly with a small sniffle. You bowed your head to him, “Of course Mr. Bridgerton.”You spoke, walking out the room, hands clasped together and head held high as you left him alone to his work.

Anthony had not come to the bedroom that night and you had not visited his office for the rest of the day. Neither of you had come down for dinner, eating respectively in separate rooms.

The next day, mid afternoon, you walked into the office area with a tea tray. Typically, a maid would bring it in for you, but you had seemed to reject the idea and believed you were perfectly capable of doing it yourself. Anthony had heard the sound of the door opening, no knock, no announcement. He looked up and saw you setting the tea tray on the low table in front of the seats in the office. The tray had two teacups and saucers, a teapot with freshly brewed tea, a sugar bowl, a milk jug, and a strainer. All of which were porcelain with multicolored, delicately painted flowers and the Bridgerton name along the side.

Anthony sighed deeply, he didn’t look irritated, he just looked tired. “ Did I not tell you to leave me be?” He asked since you had not greeted him. You didn’t look at him as you prepared your cup of tea, “That is such a way to speak to your wife Mr. Bridgerton.” You spoke sarcastically, stirring in your sugar and taking a small sip to see if it were to your tastes. A warm smile formed on your face after you drank the warm liquid, sitting comfortably in the chair a little ways across from Anthony's desk, a table in the way of you being directly in front of his desk.

Anthony clasped his hands together, elbows on the desk, “What are you doing?” He asked, lips pursed. You placed your cup on the saucer, “If you truly believe I will let you sit in this office and rot,” You spoke, finally looking at him, “you are gravely mistaken.” You told him, expressionless. Anthony tilted his head to the side, he didn’t believe he was ‘rotting’ in the office space, but he couldn’t speak since you beat him to it. “I shall remain here and tend to you until you see fit to conduct yourself as a gentleman.” You stated, hands in your lap, straightening your posture, “Or to put sourly,” You began, “an adult.”

“Do not treat me like a child.” Anthony told you, hands dropping back to the desk, no movement towards the quills.

“Then do not act like one.”

“What has prompted this?”

You pretend to think for a moment, pulling up your hand to count, “Your blatant disregard for your wife in your own home,” You spoke as you put up a finger, “your refusal to acknowledge her presence or engage with her” you continued, putting another finger up, “or even talk to her.” You finished, putting up the last finger, slightly glaring at him.

There was silence from Anthony as he bit the inside of his cheek, twitching his nose. Due to the silence, you continued to speak, “I vowed to cherish and support you through all, but I will not endure your silence.” You explained, shaking your head a bit with your words. Anthony sighed, moving a few papers out of his way, “You are aware that traditionally wives do not-”

“You did not marry me due to my traditional nature.”

There was more silence from your husband until he ran a hand through his hair. “You will not leave until I discuss ill with you?” He asked, seeming to be contemplating the idea that he just spoke into existence. You nodded, “Precisely.”

“Very well, let’s discuss ills.”

The Bridgerton man stood from his desk and strode to sit next to you. You gestured to the tea and he shook his head, leaning forward, clasping his hands. His leg shook and tapped the floor as he struggled to find the words, “My fathers death left my mother heartbroken, she never remarried.” He spoke suddenly. The words confused you a bit, was that why he had been so closed off? You turned to him fully, crossing your leg over the other, “Your mothers strength,” You began, taking a breath, “is commendable.” You commented, the Brdigerton in front of you chose not to look at you but he nodded. “She said her love for your father was true and her devotion for your father lies strong.” You continued on, thinking about the older woman and how powerful she was for standing strong for her children. “She does not need to marry if she does not wish to.” You completed your thought at his words about his mother.

Anthony put his hands on his knees, straightening himself. He sucked his teeth, “I understand that,” He told you, “but you do not understand how she flinches when they refer to her as Dowager.” He continued on.

At parties they would announce Violet Bridgerton as Dowager VIscountess Bridgerton, and they have for the many years since Edmund Bridgerton had passed.

“My mother remains a widow.” Anthony continued, voice slightly cracking when he thought about the way his mothers hand would tighten around his arm when someone greeted her as ‘Dowager’.

You nodded in understanding, no matter how strong Violet was, it still hurt. You just didn’t process why that caused him to pull from you. “Nevertheless, I am not,” You told him, the words causing him to look put his face in his hands, “hence my lack of understanding of your coldness and sudden refusal to be with me.” You spoke, staring right at him, hands in your lap picking at your nails.

“What if you find yourself a widow?” Anthony asked suddenly, now fully turned to you.

“Pardon me?” You asked blankly, brows furrowed, lips slightly parted.

“What if you find yourself to be a widow?” He repeated, slightly differently.

“If you suspect you may act recklessly, you must inform me at once." You told him cautiously, hand moving towards him, but he pulled back. "My father's passing was but a consequence of being outdoors.” He stated blankly, eyes staring forward, distantly. He never talked about his father's death, it wasn’t a topic he was very open about. “He committed no recklessness, yet the heavens saw fit to claim him.” Anthony's hands were beginning to shake before he clenched them into fists, “A virtuous man, struck down."

“Anthony-”

“What if I do not live a graciously long life?” He asked, head snapping to you, “What if I meet my end, just as young as my father?” He asked another question that you had no answer to other than, “Anthony you will live a long life-”

He stood abruptly, face red, eyes watering, “How could you possibly know that!” He yelled at you, “You do not!” He continued to yell, face such an angry red it almost scared you. He didn’t seem angry though, his eyes were filled with fear, he was scared. You did not expect him to yell or be so emotional, it hurt you deep in your heart to see him look so terrified about what could happen.

Anthony began to pace, hands in his hair and desperately pulling at his collar. “I didn’t even wish to marry,” He told you, seemingly muttering to himself. “I feared leaving my wife alone, especially if we were to have children.” He continued, not gazing at you at all.

You stood, slowly walking to him, “Yet, here you continue to stand,” You said, “alive,and wed.” You reminded him, concern flowing through you as he paced.

He stopped walking, looking at the wedding ring on his finger. “My mother was left with eight children to raise alone.” He mumbled, having to clear his throat from how low he was speaking. “I, the eldest, lost my father when I was eighteen left to carry his title and responsibility.” He spoke to you, reminding himself of all the information he didn’t know when he was eighteen and how he had to figure it all out, how he had to be the man of the house at such a young age. “I do not wish for you and our future child to endure the same fate.”

You were quiet, “Then why did you marry me?” You whispered, your expression was slightly crinkled but you were listening. Anthony had turned to you, a soft but sad expression on his face. He gently held your hands, looking into your eyes. “My affection for you was undeniable.” He confessed, cupping one of your cheeks with his large hand, a bit of sweat dripping down his forehead from being so worked up. “It was so difficult to be inexplicably in love with you and watch for you to have other suitors.” He continued, drawing a breath, “I was drawn to you, as a moth to flame.”

You licked your lips, “Yet, you still harbor fears of leaving me-”

“The responsibility of children and a title you cannot shed unless you remarry.” He interrupted you, thumbs rubbing at your cheeks. He looked at you desperately, desperate for you to understand how he was feeling, but you could not. “Which I have no intention to do.” You retorted to his comment, he is the only man you believe you’ll ever love and nothing will change that.

Anthony nodded, dropping his hands from your face. He remembered how he wasn’t there for his mother, for his family sometimes. “I acknowledge that I was a challenge to deal with for my mother.” He spoke, and you were aware of such things. He had admitted these feats to you during your courtship, during small corners of vulnerability. “I just do not wish for you to face similar struggles alone.” He finished his thought, ultimately refusing to meet your gaze as he found the bookcases to be far more interesting.

You shook your head, “She did not endure it alone.” You stated matter-of-factly. Anthony looked up, eyes blinking in confusion, “What?” He asked you, so you continued. “Your mother, she had you, she had Benedict, Colin, Daphne. All of her children were her solace and support.” You expressed to him, reminding him of all of his siblings. They all had each other, they were all her shoulder to cry on just as she was theirs.

Anthony sighed for the thousandth time within that conversation, “We were not easy children.” He told you. Eloise didn’t wish to marry, he had been such a terrible man of the house in the beginning, Benedict did not wish for the responsibility, Colin rushed into things too quickly, Daphne had so much going on when she was named the diamond of the season, his younger siblings couldn’t even fathom the world they were in.

“No child ever is.” You told him simply, holding his hand gently. This time, he did not pull away.

You smiled at him, kissing his cheek gently and pulling back to look him into his eyes. “Now,” You started, letting out the puff of air that was compressing your chest the entire conversation. “I’d prefer if we do not speak the subject of your demise as if it were to greet us at dawn.” You told him, the comment causing him to chuckle a bit, holding your hand a little tighter. “You will come down for dinner and we will enjoy a meal together.” You told him and he nodded, “I will be down in a moment, I shall see the papers are put away first.” He spoke, looking around to all the papers scattered on his desk and some even on the floor.

You left him to the papers and asked your maid to get dinner started, the woman asking if there were any preferences you wanted. The door had closed and Anthony was soon left alone.

Once the door had closed Anthony had begun to gasp for breath, unbuttoning the top of his shirt for air. His chest began to have as he leaned against the door, tears filling his eyes. He furiously wiped at them, trying so hard to push them back but he couldn’t stop them when a choked sob left his lips. His hands were shaking when they reached his face to wipe at his eyes hurriedly. The topic of conversation was difficult, you were so sure that the two of you would grow old together with your children, that you would not have to worry about being a widow, but Anthony was not so sure.

Everyday he saw a little bit of his father in himself and it terrified him. Such a good man was taken from the world by something as simple as a bee and it scared Anthony of everything around him. Sure, before he was not scared of death, even going as far as to call for a duel where he was prepared to die for his sister's honor. But now, he had you, and he did not wish to leave you.

Anthony shakily clasped his hands in a prayer, praying for all the time in the world to be with you. Praying for more time than his father had, praying for a chance. He muttered small prayers, “Please, I just wish to be with her, I will never ask for anything else.” He cried out quietly, eyes closed, tears pouring from his eyes. “I just want time, time with her, please.” He begged quietly, his prayers in reflection to how lonely he saw his mother was. She had so many children but he knew that his mother wished for his father to be there to help her everyday.

A knock had sounded at the door, the noise caused Anthony to stand quickly and rush to the other side of the room with documents, back to the door. He cleared his throat, sniffling one last time, “Enter.” He spoke, the door opening.

“Lord Bridgerton, dinner is served.” A footman had announced, standing in the doorway.

Anthony put the documents away, wiping his tears without the man noticing. “I shall be there in just a moment's time.” He told the man, putting some documents into the drawers. The man nodded and closed the door, going to inform you of the comment.

The door closed once more and Anthony felt his legs were so weak that he had almost collapsed into the furniture. One of his hands gripped the edge of the drawer, the other clawing at his chest. He felt as if every time he took a breath his chest would tighten, he felt nauseous, dizzy. The room was spinning and his vision was blurry from his tears. It almost seemed as if he were dying, but he was not, everything felt like so much but nothing was happening.

It all felt like too much.

He tried to take a few more deep breaths, the pain ceasing and his vision returning back to normal. He slowly exhaled, blinking and wiping his tears. He clenched his jaw as he stood up straight, muttering some words of ‘man of the house’, ‘loving husband’, ‘time’. He couldn't connect the words even if he tried, all he knew was that he was going to dinner.

All he knew was that his father's words rang in his head, but he kept shaking them from his mind. “You cannot show someone your best without allowing them to see your worst.” If only his father had told him how difficult it was to show someone your worst. How frightening it was to show true vulnerability, to find the words to explain feelings you don’t even understand fully yourself.

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #angst #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fic #Infinite Imaginings

1K notes · View notes

fayes-fics · 9 months

Text

Comfort

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Benedict comforts his new wife when her courses arrive…

Warnings: mentions of menstruation, non graphic references to period blood. Otherwise, just the fluffiest of fluff.

Word Count: 2k

Authors Note: Unbetaed. Thanks to @colettebronte for help with the title. Request fill for anon HERE, where Benedict comforts his new wife when her period arrives overnight. This might be the most saccharine-sweet fluff I have ever written. For my usual smut peeps… err, apologies? Normal filth will resume shortly, I'm sure lol. <3

You stir from your slumber to a dreaded dampness you know far too well.

Oh dear heavens, no!

Overnight, your courses have arrived without warning. Or perhaps, with hindsight, there were some signs, but you had assigned blame for the symptoms elsewhere. You had put your tiredness down to the exhaustive social whirlwind of your first ball as a Bridgerton. The dull lower back pain you had felt merely due to traipsing around the extensive grounds the host was keen to show off to all and sundry.

For a few moments, you lay staring frettingly at the ceiling, unsure what to do. You can tell that your nightgown and, likely, the bedsheets will carry evidence of this unwanted early arrival. You had plans to inform your lady's maids to prepare the following night. Trust your body to be at least a day early when you least need it.

Next to you, your new husband of just fourteen days, Benedict Bridgerton, is sleeping soundly. You roll your head to look briefly at his handsome face in repose on the adjacent pillow, then bite your lip in anxiety.

Oh god, he cannot see this!! He simply cannot! What am I to do?!?

____

You had been taught a few things in the run-up to marriage by your Mama. One of them was never to mention or address the “monthly visitor” to your husband—it was a matter for you and your maids to deal with. On the nights you were “visited”, you were strongly counselled to sleep in your room rather than with your husband so he would not have to deal with “such unpleasantness”. This may have been logical advice for a regular wife of the Ton, but your mother probably never considered how non-traditional your husband would turn out to be.

Hours after your nuptials, upon arrival at your new marital home - a wonderful brick townhouse just a few streets from Bridgerton House - you had politely inquired where your bedchamber was. At first, he laughed, then frowned when he realised you were serious. It turned out he had not made plans for, or indeed, set up a room for you separate from his.

“We are husband and wife now. We shall sleep together,” he explained, drawing you into his arms and planting a tender kiss on your forehead.

“But… every night?” you stuttered, still grappling with what exactly was expected of you as a wife.

“Yes darling,” he confirmed, still sounding vaguely bemused.

____

Since that day, you have shared a bed every night, which has been delightful for so many reasons. Indeed, you have never slept better in your life than in the two weeks since your wedding, falling asleep securely in his arms and awakening to his handsome, smiling face…

…Well, that is until now.

Now, you have no earthly idea what to do.

You surmise it must be early, dawn breaking, a grey, feeble light peeking around the top of the heavy velvet drape curtains over the windows. Barely enough to see shapes and rough outlines as your eyes adjust. Not wanting to awaken Benedict by igniting a candle, you gingerly push back the bedspread and slide out as quietly as possible. In the mirror across the room, you catch sight of a scarlet bloom, visible even in this low light, so stark against your white cotton nightgown. Turning back around, your fears are fully realised when you see a mirror imprint left upon the sheet where you slept.

Horrified, you fly into a flurry of movements. Wanting to hide both your nightgown and the sheets you have sullied, albeit unintentionally. You slip as silently as you are able to the linen supplies cupboard and gather terrycloths designed for bathing. One, you wrap around yourself; another two, you decide to place upon the bed, hoping it will conceal the stain until your husband leaves the bedroom.

You cannot wait to bathe but know that running a bath would surely awaken Benedict, the noise of water being poured into the echoey copper, even if across the hallway, being bound to rouse him.

Once back next to your side of the bed, you push the covers towards the middle and start to pull at the edge of the undersheet, hoping to slide a cloth under the stain and one atop, to stop the evidence from spreading. You glance furtively at your husband as you work, who unfortunately is turned onto his side facing towards you, as he often is when you awaken.

In all heavens, could you not turn the other way just for once, my love?

You move as stealthily as you can, so very keen to be unnoticed. The most challenging part is trying to wedge a cloth underneath, the sheet pulled taut by your husband's weight pinning down the other side. Just as you are fighting with both hands shoved far under the sullied sheet, you hear a sudden sharp intake of breath.

Oh no! He is awake.

His eyes fly open, and he squints as he takes in the sight before him. Then, a frown passes over his features.

“What on earth are you doing, my love?” his voice is deep and rough with sleep.

You whip your hands out from under the sheet, belatedly realising you are also muttering a repeated “no no, no no” under your breath as you attempt to reach for the upper cover and hide what has happened, but it is just out of reach, kneeling as you are beside the bed.

“Darling,” he sits up slightly, rubbing his eyes, obviously thrown off by your agitated state. “Please, whatever is the matter??” his tone rising in volume and concern.

Your eyeline falls reflexively upon what you are trying to conceal on the bedsheets, and his tracks yours. Unable to handle your embarrassment, you bury your head in your hands and slump backwards onto your heels, certain this will be repulsive to him.

“I am so sorry, husband; I was not expecting this to happen today; please forgive me,” you mutter defeatedly behind your hands, ashamed.

You are expecting a noise of derision or disgust. What you do not expect is a chuckle and then a large, warm hand brushing your shoulder.

“Darling, please get up off the floor,” his ask caring, no rebuke to be heard.

Your head slowly tilts up, and to your shock, he is leaning over onto your side of the bed, not far above the stain, and is observing you mildly befuddled benevolence.

“But, I…” you trail off, even as he reaches for your hand.

“It is fine,” he cuts in, squeezing reassuringly with his fingers. “You are a woman. Such things happen. There is no need for shame,” his eyes are soft with understanding. “I do have sisters, you know,” he adds with a sanguine laugh, a shorthand to explain his knowledge of your situation.

Your mouth falls open a fraction, completely taken aback by his affable, almost nonchalant reaction; it is very different from what your Mama taught you to expect. While you flounder in surprise, he rolls away and gets out of bed, padding around to your side, crouching next to you and drawing you into his arms.

“You… you are not repulsed?” you stutter as you recover, your brow creasing.

“Of course not, my love. It is perfectly natural, and there is nothing about you or your body that repulses me,” he assures, kissing your cheek. “In fact, it is very much the opposite,” his tone sincere and soothing.

You get lost in his hazy eyes and gentle smile, accepting his doting kisses that make you feel warm from head to toe. It is then he looks down and spies the bathing cloth you have swaddled yourself in from the waist down.

“I assume your nightgown is in a similar state? And that you would like to get clean?” he guesses empathetically as you nod demurely. “Then I shall summon the staff to run you a bath,” he hums, delicately brushing the stray strands of hair that had fallen askew in your scrambling efforts.

“Thank you, Benedict, so very much” you exhale, relieved and still slightly unmoored by his reaction.

His face breaks into that crooked smile that makes butterflies flutter under your ribs.

“Please, my love, it is literally nothing. We have promised ourselves to each other for life. I expect to see this many more times,” he explains calmly as he rings a bell to summon his butler and presently provides instructions for a warm bath to be drawn and the bedding to be changed by the maids.

“You do not wish for me to sleep elsewhere when I am so afflicted?” you check as soon as you are alone again.

He chuckles as he did before. “Whatever for? You are my wife. I want you beside me all the time. It matters not to me if you have your courses. I still wish to fall asleep with you in my arms.” His sweet sincerity makes your heart skip a beat as he nuzzles your temple. “Although it has been a few short days since our wedding, I have rather gotten used to you being beside me. I cannot sleep soundly without you, my love. Nor would I want to try. We shall share our bed every night,” he adds solemnly.

“But, what if one of us is sick?” you inquire as he helps you to stand up from the floor, pulling you into his arms.

“‘Tis no bother. We shall surely both contract the same, seeing as we reside under the same roof; at least we can suffer in company,” he jests warmly into your ear as his hands rub your lumbar spine with a pattern that soothes the ache you feel there.

“What if you must travel for your art?” you challenge.

“I would be heartbroken if you did not come with me,” he volleys back with a playful pout that you can't help but giggle at.

“What if one day we have a child, and they will not rest without their mother?” your question is almost timid, knowing there is a bloom on your cheeks at the very thought.

He cups your jaw gently and tilts your face to look up into his. His mien is so devoted that the air is stolen from your lungs.

“Then they shall simply sleep between us, my love. It will be my child, too. You will not be alone. Not when you have your monthly courses and not in the raising of our children. Of that, I promise,” his cadence is lilting and ardent.

“Thank you, Benedict,” you breathe shakily, scarcely able to believe that the man you married is nothing like how your mother had warned. It makes you feel so grateful you cannot stop your emotions, heightened at this time of the month, from bubbling over.

A large, warm thumb blots the tears that gather at the corner of your eyes without comment; he just accepts your state, bussing a kiss onto your forehead.

“I love you, y/n,” he breathes, warm air gusting over your skin.

“I love you too, Benedict,” your reply muffled into his neck as you mould into his strong embrace, remaining there until a lady’s maid taps on the door to convey that your bath is ready.

And true to his word, over the years, you are never a night without your husband. Through many monthly courses, through sickness and health, through children and even grandchildren. It is always his face you see just before your eyes droop closed and the moment they flutter open again. Your safe space. Your comfort.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton fluff #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #1k notes

1K notes · View notes

fumikoshi · 2 months

Text

REMORSE

✧ — CONTENT; Mean!Gojo, arranged marriage, death, angst

things could have been different. If he had stayed home, you would still be alive. you would still be alive...

''my love... p-please don't go''

Gojo froze in his tracks, feeling your delicate arms wrap around his waist from behind. Despite himself, a small flicker of surprise coursed through him, momentarily halting his steps towards the door. Your trembling voice reached his ears, filled with desperation and a plea for him to stay.

"I-I will prepare a dinner for you, my love... p-please don't go," you whispered, your lips pressing softly against his back in a tender kiss.

For a brief moment, the gentle touch and your plea tugged at a minuscule fragment of buried empathy within him. However, he quickly squashed that flicker of compassion.

he twisted his body to face you, his expression turning cold and unyielding once again under his blindfold. He roughly pushed your arms away from his waist, forcing you to release her grip on him. The action was swift and unforgiving.

"Your feeble attempts to keep me won't work, y/n." he spat, his voice laced with cruel indifference. "I have no use for your pitiful displays of affection. I am leaving."

He turned away from you, resolute in his decision. He regretted his words at the moment he saw the pain and sadness in your eyes. but he couldn't show it, he couldn't show any sign of weakness.

after all, he was the strongest

With a last glance, he walked towards the door and left you. As he crossed the threshold, his heart remained hardened, untouched by the anguish he left behind.

He was a terrible husband. He didn't pay any attention to you. but he wanted to change that, so he bought you a bouquet to make it up to you, and today he was going to take you out to dinner. he was going to fix everything, you were going to be happy together.

''My sweet wifey~, I thought we could have dinner today, husband and wife--''

Upon entering the house, Gojo was met with an eerie silence that sent a chill down his spine. The door wide open, the lights on – everything seemed off. As he stepped further inside, his heart raced, confusion clouding his thoughts. The scent of carnage enveloped him, the heavy air thick with tension.

Then he found you. lying lifeless on the floor, your limbs twitching slightly as the waning moments of your life escaped from you. Blood pooled beneath you, the crimson liquid staining the once pristine floors with its haunting presence. A profound sorrow washed over him, accompanied by a wave of guilt – a bitter taste in his mouth.

The flowers he had intended to apologize with dropped from his grasp, the vibrant colors now tainted by the horrifying scene unfolding before his eyes. He watched in horror as you struggled for your last breaths, your fragile body betrayed by the curse that sought to end her life.

The irreversibility of the situation dawned on him at that moment - her fate was already sealed, your time running thin. Tears welled up in his eyes as realizations flooded his mind; regrets of his callous behavior, anger, and neglect came racing back and consumed his conscience. If only he had stayed if only he had paid attention.

Gojo fell to his knees beside you, reaching out tentatively to steady her limp form. "Y/N. Stay with me," he pleaded, a foreign word in his vocabulary. "Please, don't go." His tears fell in torrents, landing beside hers on the muddied ground.

''Who. Who did this to you-''

His hands shook as he cradled you close, your warm breath steadily fading in his embrace. The pain of losing you was like a dagger piercing his heart, relentless torture he could never escape.

What was the point? What was the point of being the strongest if he couldn't even protect his wife?

At present

Gojo stands before your grave, a solemn figure with his head bowed low. The air holds a heavy silence, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves as a gentle breeze caresses the surrounding trees. The weight of his loss rests heavily upon his shoulders, his heart burdened with a mix of grief and regret.

"Hey, it's me again," he murmurs, his voice choked with emotion as he addresses the earth beneath him. "I don't know if you can hear me, but I wanted to let you know... I'm doing my best, even though it feels impossible without you here."

His fingers trace the engraved letters of your name on the tombstone, his touch both reverent and pained. Memories of your time together flood his mind, each one a bittersweet reminder of what he had lost. The weight of his remorse for not cherishing those moments to their fullest becomes evident in the way his shoulders slump, the way his breath hitches.

"I miss you, more than words can express," he admits, his voice breaking with raw vulnerability. "I wish I had realized sooner what you truly meant to me. I wish I had been a better husband, a better person for you... worthy of the love you had for me."

His grip tightens on the flowers he brought, his knuckles turning white. He places them gently upon your grave, his gaze lingering upon the fading petals.

Tears glisten in his mismatched eyes, his voice barely more than a whisper now. "I love you, and I always will. I'm sorry I realized this so late. Wherever you are, I hope you've found peace. And just know... you'll forever have a place in my heart."

With a final, lingering look at your tombstone, put the bouquet on your tombstone and turns away.

He will live a lifetime with the pain of ruining the perfect future he could have had with you.

Fumi: How was it? I would appreciate your thoughts in the comments!

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo #jjk gojo #jjk satoru #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen #gojo angst #jujutsu satoru #gojo x you #satoru x reader #satoru x you #gojo satoru x you #gojo imagine

399 notes · View notes

nctsplug02 · 7 months

Note

johnny + sexting/videocalling when he's away on tour?? 🤒🤒🤒

Happy Thanksgiving! j.suh

GENRES: fluff, smut, phone sex, idol x non-celeb fem reader!

WARNINGS: phone sex.

the dinner you cooked an hour and a half ago was getting colder and colder by the minute but you were too drunk to even eat what you’d made.

wine and cooking dinner did not mix well, especially when you’re a light weight!

RING RING!

you lift your head off the counter and scrub your face with a sigh. “what time is it?”

you reach and grab your phone, hitting the green button. “hello?” silence. “hello?” you look at the screen with barely open eyes. “oh, oops.” you giggle to yourself and swipe the screen until it shows you’ve picked up.

“yes, hello?” you put the speaker to your ear and rub your eyes.

“baby!” you wince and yank the phone away from your ear. “shit!” you hiss and rub your ear, looking at the screen to see your husband with his face up close.

it was a facetime call not an actual call.

“hellooo,” johnny says into the mic. “did i wake you up?” he pulls his face away and raises an eyebrow.

“just a little bit. i closed my eyes for five minutes… that’s all.” you smile and set your phone down against the bottle of wine.

“what were you doing before you knocked out?” you giggle and shake your head. “alright, i didn’t knock out. i only closed my eyes for a good five minute, i swear. but, i did a little bit of cooking and had a few glasses of wine while waiting for your call.”

johnny rests his phone on something and sits back on the beige couch. “what about you, handsome? finished with the concert, i see.” you rub the running mascara from under your eyes.

“mhm, i just got out of the shower. couldn’t stop thinking about you. i’m sorry i can’t be there for thanksgiving, my love.” johnny manspreads and sighs with a pout.

“i—it’s fine, baby.” you clear your throat and move your eyes back to johnnys face. “i’m just thankful that you’re with me spiritually and virtually.”

“spiritually?” johnny chuckles in a confusing tone. “yes, although you’re not here physically, i can feel your presence all around the house.”

“you sure it ain’t a ghost, baby?” johnny laughs when your face changes into a grumpy one. “shut up, don’t scare me like that!” you look around and hug yourself.

johnny laughs while shaking his head, his hand rubbing his jaw. “i was just kidding, my love.”

KNOCK KNOCK!

“room service,” johnny sits up. “looks like my dinner’s here.” he leaves the frame for a good two minutes before coming back.

you watch as johnny sets up the coffee table in front of him. “what’d you order for dinner, babe?” johnny pulls the top cover and reveals a juicy, thick steak. “steak,” he sets the top cover aside. “mashed potatoes and roasted, salted green beans on the side. all that topped off with some red wine.”

you moan and grab your phone, twirling yourself around hopping off the stool. “i wanna show you what i made for thanksgiving.”

“ouu, yeah! i’m excited and a bit sad to see what i’m missing out.” you giggle and walk towards the stove. “it’s really nothing. but, i didn’t want to cook a whole turkey since it’s just me so, i decided to go for something we usually don’t cook for thanksgiving.”

you reveal what’s sitting in your pot and johnny let’s out a horrified gasp. “what?! does it look bad?!” you turn the camera back to you.

“no, baby! i’m just… you cook seafood while i’m gone?!” you laugh and bite the tip of your finger. “well, i didn’t want turkey and mashed potatoes so, i went with what i was craving.”

“ugh, you’re gonna have to make that again but when i get back, please.” johnny groans. “i promise, baby.”

you put the top cover back on the pot and you go back to the stool. “i just brought a plate over to miss hapkins next door. she was telling me a few weeks ago that since her family wouldn’t be able to travel to her, she wasn’t going to do thanksgiving.”

johnny coos at you and tilts his head. “that’s what i love about you, baby. you’re so kindhearted and caring. i love that you decided to include miss hapkins in our thanksgiving.”

“but, now i really don’t wanna eat my steak anymore.” johnny chuckles and sighs. “i miss your cooking, babe.”

“it’s just two more weeks, john. just two more and then home meals are back.” you pick up your wine glass and the wine bottle. “just like you, i’m also having red wine.”

“1869?” you hum and set the bottle down after pouring it near the rim. “you bought that without me?” he whines and you just laugh. “i was gonna save it but… hey, i deserve a treat sometimes too.”

“of course you do, baby. always.” johnny actually picks up his fork and steak knife, cutting off a sliver of the juicy meat.

johnny holds up his piece and tilts his head so he’s in frame. “happy thanksgiving, my love.” he says.

“yes, happy thanksgiving, baby.” you hold up your wine glass, clinking the glass on your phone before taking a sip.

the sweet, rich taste of red wine melting down your throat.

“mmm,” you smack your lips and set your wine glass down. “how’s the steak, baby?” johnny nods with long hums, his eyes shutting as he takes in all the flavors. “it’s perfect. it’s juicy, flavorful, thick but melts on your tongue—mmm,” johnny sighs and cuts himself another piece.

you grab your phone, glass of wine, bottle of wine and you head to the living room.

“although,” you hum. “i prefer the way you make our steak over this.” you giggle and seat yourself on the love sack, setting the bottle of wine on the ground.

you hold up your glass again. “two more weeks, john. we can wait it out.” you take a sip.

johnny groans, “you know what else is in two more weeks?” you hum and ask, what. “your ovulation week.” your cheeks heat up. “once i get home, i’m not holding back, baby.” johnny shoves the meat into his mouth and chews.

“i am not drunk enough for this.” you laugh and shake your head. “what, you don’t wanna have a baby with me?”

“i’d love to have your baby but… i want to right now.” you could feel your panties dampen.

the thought of johnny fucking you full of his baby got you off. him going at you so many rounds that your swollen cunt is oozing out his cum. his slender fingers pushing his cum back in while whispering to you that there was no such thing as wasting good stuff.

“aw, baby.” johnny coos and sets down his knife and fork with a thud. “but, just like you said, two more weeks.”

you roll your eyes and chug the rest of your wine. “babe, you don’t even know how wet i am right now. i’m literally dripping all over our love sack.”

“i don’t believe you,” johnny sits back and groans. “how can i prove it to you?”

you knew exactly how johnny wanted you to prove it and you were trapping yourself in it.

“show me your pretty pussy and let me be the judge of how wet you are.” you bite your lip, eyes moving down to his now visible bulge. “my eyes are up, baby.” you giggle and move your eyes up.

“c’mon, take off your pants and show me how wet i make you.”

the tone of his voice is like a spell, your shorts and panties are pooled on the ground and your body is twisted in a way where johnny can see your pussy.

“fuck, y/n.” johnny growls lowly and cries out. “i wish i was home right now. i’d take you so hard on that love sack.”

“move yourself to the couch and put your phone down, baby. prop it up with the candles on the coffee table.” you listen to johnnys directions and you move yourself to the black couch, propping up your phone with the cherry red and white candles.

“that’s perfect, baby—fuck, y/n!” johnny grabs himself through his sweats.

“touch yourself, baby.” johnny undoes the strings of his sweats. “i wanna see you play with yourself.”

you lay back so that you’re barely propped up with your knees to your chest and arm between your legs. your fingers massaging your clit and ever so then dipping inside your hole just to tease johnny.

“that’s it, baby. pinch your clit.” you squeal when pinching your clit with your fingers.

johnny pulls himself free, he’s rock hard, precum oozing from his tiny slit. “finger yourself, baby.” you dip a finger into your hole.

“fuck, it just slipped in like nothing…” johnny groans, flexing as he smears the precum around his head.

“just a little faster, baby.” you whimper and pick up your pace, dropping your head back and shutting your eyes. “add another finger.” you add a second finger, shuddering at the slight stretch.

johnny curses under his breath and picks his pace with his strokes. “how does it feel, baby.” you shake your head, bottom lip caught between your teeth.

“not the same,” johnny pauses his strokes. “what do you mean, baby?” your eyes water up, “it’s not the same, johnny.” your legs fall together and your fingers come to a stop.

“we can make it feel like it’s the same, baby. i want you to keep your eyes closed and listen to my voice. imagine it’s me who’s pleasuring you.”

“it won’t be the sam—“

“just listen to my voice, baby.” johnny whispers. “listen to my voice and listen to how i want you to touch yourself.”

you take deep breaths, breathing out slowly and quietly while johnny softly hums.

“let’s backtrack, alright, beautiful?” your lips twitch into a faint smile. “i want you to touch yourself, not finger but touch your clit for me.”

your fingers find their way on your clit, softly rubbing and pinching your clit.

“that’s it, baby.” johnny pulls off his shirt. “don’t cry, take deep breaths, alright?” you nod and rub eights on your clit.

“you have the cutest pussy. cute little pussy that struggles to take my dick.” you moan and ball up your fist, sinking your teeth into the flesh, hard enough so that your teeth leave light indents.

you’re too busy listening to johnnys voice to even notice that johnny had pulled out a cotton fabric. “let’s skip past one finger and do two, i know you can do it.”

with your middle and ring finger, you slip the two into your cunt and let out a cry of pleasure. “oh, fuck.” you gasp and softly jerk forward. “that’s it, gorgeous. look how good you’re taking my fingers.”

johnny wraps the cotton material around his cock and begins to stroke himself. “fuck, baby. you feel so good.”

whimpers slip past your lips as you pick up your pace, the heel of your palm rubbing against your clit, giving you more friction and more pleasure.

“that’s it, y/n. take all of me like a good slut.” johnny moans and strokes himself faster. “faster, baby.” you whimper and gasp repeatedly while your fingers rub your g-spot.

“j—johnny,” you dig your nails into your thighs that hold your legs in place. “i—i’m gonna c—cum.”

“mhm,” johnny hums, his hands fisting tightly around his cock. “cum for me, y/n. show me who makes you feel good.”

your pants and moans filling up the room while your orgasm crashes over you. your legs shake and tremble, and your body jerks repeatedly like you’d been shocked. your fingers slowly and desperately still fingering your cunt.

“s—shit, i’m cumming. fuckfuckfuck!” johnny groans loudly.

johnny balls up his shirt and bites down on the fabric, covering up his moans and whimpers. his fist stroking the tip and painting his abs with white ling streaks.

“oh, fuck…” johnny slowly fucks his fist, his angry red tip popping up every second. “so fucking good.” johnny sighs, letting his hand drop and melting into the couch.

“you made a mess.” you giggle when finally pulling the strength to sit up.

johnny lifts his head and looks at his screen, seeing you barely sat up with your wet pussy on display for johnny to see.

“i made a mess?” johnny scoffs with a sexy smirk. “look at the mess you made.” you smile at him and shake your head.

“i can’t believe i got off to your voice, again.” you groan and grab your phone. “again?” johnny laughs and sits up, grabbing a few tissue from the table near him and cleaning himself up.

“is that my—wow, johnny. you’re gonna make fun of me for getting off on your voice but you’re jerking off with my panties that i’ve been looking for for a month!”

“well, i couldn’t bring you so i improvised.” johnny says a defensive tone. “whatever.” you laugh and shake your head in disbelief.

shuffling can be heard from johnnys side. “geez, it’s already one in the morning.” johnny says as he flips on a light. “already? it feels like we just got on the phone.” you frown and roll off the couch, making your way to the bathroom.

“we’ve been on the phone for over an hour, babe.” johnny says with a laugh. “it felt shorter but anyway, i’m gonna take a quick shower and i’ll call you back in fifteen.”

“why can’t we just keep calling?” johnny frowns and he flips the lights off and hugs his pillow. “because i need my phone to play music so i can karaoke.” you start the shower. “i bought you an ipad, laptop, and second phone for a reason.”

you roll your eyes, propping up your phone on the sink. “you’re so clingy.”

johnny scoffs, “says the one who gets off to my voice.”

you pull off your shirt, “at least i don’t need your boxers to help me do so.” you drop your bra and shirt.

“fuck you.”

you step into the shower. “i love you too.”

AN| hiiii, i know i’ve been really inactive but life is getting so rough right now and it’s really kicking my ass. happy thanksgiving, babies! i love you all and i am very thankful to have a growing account with all those who support and love me and my work. i’m trying my best to write with all my free time but yk sneakylink takes it all up. i know i dragged the end but we don’t talk about it HAHAHSJA. anywho, thank you anon for requesting this!!! happiest thanksgiving! 🩷

#nct smut #ash talks #nct imagines #nctsplug02 #anon #nct scenarios #kpop imagines #nct 127 #kpop smut #kpop fluff #johnny seo smut #johnny seo #johnny suh smut #johnny angst #johnny suh #nct johnny #johnny smut #johnny fluff #johnny x reader

623 notes · View notes

novalpha · 1 year

Text

𝘑𝘰𝘴𝘩𝘶𝘢 𝐹𝑖𝑐 𝑅𝑒𝑐𝑠

♡ Fluff || ୨୧ Angst || ★ Smut || ꗃ SMAU || ⌗ Series || ✿ Drabble || ♤ Mature (No smut) || ✹ Humor

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Virgin killer ♡★ -> @wonusite Part 2

Synopsis: You can’t stand the clear line the cute nerd in your calculus class always draws between you two. However, you’re determined to show him that there’s a fine line between love and hate. And if you happen to get him to cross that line, even better.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Anonymously Yours ♡୨୧✹ -> @joonsytip

Synopsis: After an accidental text message turns into a digital friendship, you and Joshua start crushing on each other without realizing you both see each other frequently in real life. Notable Mention: You both hate each other's guts....

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Pretty when you cry ★ -> @cheolhub

summary. joshua just loves how pretty you look when you’re in tears.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Say it back ♡ -> @diamondyjh

Synopsis: A tipsy Joshua is a clingy Joshua.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Vanilla ★♡ -> @milfgyuu

Summary: Joshua has a secret but perhaps it’s not really a secret at all. Maybe you’ve just refused to see it in an effort to keep your feelings at bay.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Wildest dreams ♡✹ -> @viastro

synopsis: it’s your last year of school forever, and you’re about to meet the most horrifying chapter of life: the real world. now worrying about your life’s lack of spontaneity, you decide to get married to your best friend in vegas for 24 hours.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Beautiful day Sunday morning ★♡ -> @sluttywoozi

Summary: Joshua’s tried everything, but he just can’t stop being in love with his best friend

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Steamy ★ -> @duhnova

next door neighbor!joshua - unfortunately in the middle of your shower your hot water breaks so you have to go next door and ask your unnaturally hot neighbor if you can use his

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Domino ♡✹★ -> @universecorp

Summary: After a one night stand on your birthday, you never expected to meet the stranger again. You also never expected him to enter your life permanently.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Under the rose ♡★ -> @just-come-baek

Summary: You’ve known Joshua your entire life, and it has always irked you when he got praised for the same things you were scolded for. You hate these societal double standards thrown upon you almost as much as people who judge you for it. Thankfully, you have Joshua, who just gets you.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Late to the party ★ -> @sluttywoozi Part 2 , Sundress Szn

Summary: You try to convince Joshua to go to Cheol's birthday party. Joshua tries to convince you to have a party for two | husband!joshua, husband joshua is horny and in love with you

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Your gentleman ★ -> @wonwussy

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Leaning on the everlasting arms ♡୨୧★ -> @onlyhuis

synopsis | as kids growing up in the same church, you and joshua were inseperable, until you got to an age where it was considered immoral for girls and boys to be friends. when you find him again just before graduation, he's different than you remember; but so are you.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Best friend's brother ♡୨୧★ -> @chocosvt

synopsis: joshua happens to be your best friend's older brother. he's pretty, and he's got a lot of cool details about him that you pay a concerning amount of attention to, but he’s just a friend (if you could even call it that). still, what does he think of you, anyway? that is—if he thinks of you.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ To you ♡୨୧★ -> @onlymingyus

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Fine line ♡୨୧★ -> @heartkyeom

synopsis: as a joshua fangirl, getting the chance to interview him as a teenager was an absolute dream. 10 years later with a flourishing career as a writer and a strained relationship with him, he wants to do a 10 year reunion interview about his path to the upcoming Olympics. there’s only one problem: you’re staying at his house and trying not to address your old feelings for him.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Untitled ♡୨୧ -> @gyu-effect

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Paint by numbers ♡୨୧ -> @chocosvt

synopsis: somebody new just moved into the upstairs apartment. they’re loud, irritatingly sweet, and unfortunately, very pretty. but you’re not looking for a new relationship, even if it comes in the form of joshua hong.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Golden Hour ♡ -> @dkfile

summer ends in less than a month, leaving you with a limited amount of time to build up the courage to profess your undying love for your best friend before he leaves again for college. alternatively the summer of pining, featuring a group of annoyed bystanders.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ Cranberry concoctions ♡୨୧★ -> @onlyhuis

synopsis | you came to the infamous diamond glass looking for a good cocktail. instead, you found love in a hot bartender who also makes the best cosmos you’ve ever had.

[ More joshua recs will be updated ]

Want more Seventeen fic recs? -> Click here

2K notes · View notes

tongue-like-a-razor · 2 years

Text

Rooster's Brood | Part 2

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Wife!Reader

Summary: The squad babysits and Rooster intends to take full advantage of his alone time with you.

CW: fluff, dad Rooster, Rooster loves his hot wife, suggestive banter and allusions to sex, A LOT OF KIDS (this is probably the biggest warning haha).

Based on this request.

Masterlist

You walk out into the living room to find that the rest of the squad has already arrived. The number of people crowded on the lower level of the house is laughable, but it’s the first time the aviators are babysitting, so they’ve decided that the more reinforcements they have, the better. You step around Mickey and your twin boys who are in the midst of terrorizing his pant legs to show off your new dress.

“What do you think?” you say, smiling at your husband as he looks up at you from the couch.

Three of your children are bouncing on the cushions so Bradley is bobbing up and down as his eyes rake over your figure. His mouth quirks into a sideways smirk and he rises from the couch, saying, “Wow.”

“Bradshaw, you’ve yet to tell us how you tricked this goddess into marrying you,” Jake says from the armchair where your daughter is cozying up to his knee. He’s absently running his fingers through her hair and she looks oddly content just leaning against his leg.

Bradley’s grin widens. “I’ll have to get back to you when I figure it out,” he says.

You chuckle, shaking your head. “You like my dress?” you ask, turning on the spot.

Bradley nods. “It’s spectacular,” he says. “But it would look better on the floor.”

A chorus of gasps erupts out of the adults in the room. Jake claps his hands over your daughter’s ears with a horrified expression. “Rooster! The children!”

Bradley laughs. “Don’t worry, that was way too abstract for them to follow. I’m surprised you caught on, Hangman.”

Jake gives him a flat look while your daughter starts climbing into his lap. You find it endearing that she’s taken such a liking to him and even more sweet that he helps her up and wraps his arms around her tiny body, shielding her face with his hand as your other kids start clambering his legs trying to gain his attention.

“You guys better go before Hangman has a heart attack,” Natasha says, ushering the two of you toward the door. “Rooster, are you wearing jeans?”

“What’s wrong with jeans?” he asks, slipping his Ray-Bans over his eyes.

“Nothing, if y’all aren’t going to the same place,” Jake calls out.

Natasha eyes Rooster’s Hawaiian shirt and then the high heels you’re stepping into and purses her lips. “I never agree with Hangman,” she says. “But I have to agree with Hangman.”

Bradley gives her and the rest of the aviators an ironic smile. “Just don’t forget to feed the kids, alright?” he says.

“I think Fanboy brought five separate meals,” Reuben responds with a chuckle.

“We’ll see who’s laughing when dinnertime rolls around. Toddlers can be picky eaters, you know?” Mickey chimes in.

Bradley raises his eyebrows. “That’s not false.”

You clear your throat. “They’ll eat whatever you give them, just be firm. No dessert until they’ve had enough to eat.”

“Dessert?” Jake calls from the armchair although he’s not exactly visible behind the jumble of little arms and legs. All your kids seem to have decided that they want to sit on him. “What’s for dessert?”

Bradley looks over at you and winks over his sunglasses. “I know what I’m having for dessert.”

“Rooster!” Jake roars. “The children!”

You giggle and Natasha shakes her head with a smile. “I don’t know how many more innuendos Hangman can handle.”

Bradley smiles. “Alright, kids, we’re leaving!”

“Yes, we know,” Bob says, holding the door open.

You stifle a laugh while Bradley gives him an amused look. “I meant the other kids,” he says as a throng of your offspring race for the door to say goodbye. Bradley squats down to give each child a kiss while you pat their heads before they sprint back toward Jake’s armchair. The entire process takes no less than five minutes because Bradley has something to say to every one of the kids. When it’s your daughter’s turn, Bradley lifts her onto his knee and gives her a warm hug. “I love you so much, princess,” you hear him whisper in her ear.

“I love you too, daddy,” she says, putting her arms around his neck.

“Uh,” Javy says, watching the series farewells uneasily. “You guys are planning on coming back, right?”

Bradley chuckles as your daughter slides off his lap. “Bedtime’s at eight!” he hollers over the noise of the room.

“Where am I sleeping?” Jake calls back.

Bradley rolls his eyes and leads you out the door.

…

“Think they’ll be okay?” you ask, a little nervous to hear Bradley’s answer.

“Phoenix is there,” he says. “She’ll make sure Hangman behaves.”

You laugh. “Are Phoenix and Hangman –”

“They should be,” he responds with a grin.

You nod. “I thought so.” Bradley watches as you bring your glass to your lips. You catch his gaze and smile. “See something you like?” you ask playfully.

“Yes, that drink looks delicious,” he says.

You laugh, glancing down at your strawberry daiquiri. “Want some?”

“Oh, I definitely want some,” he replies with a smirk.

You let out a soft chuckle and he reaches for your hand. “What are the chances that all the kids sleep through the night tonight?” he asks.

“Negative chances?”

“Let’s get the squad to sleep over,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows.

“That might be asking too much.”

Bradley holds his phone up. “Phoenix has already offered. Apparently, the twins want Hangman in the top bunk.”

“Your poor friends don’t know what they’re getting themselves into.”

Bradley shrugs. “It’ll be a learning experience.”

“For your squad? Or for our children?”

“Both?”

“Well, if they’ve offered…”

Bradley’s grin widens. “So,” he says. “Where are we sleeping tonight?”

You raise your eyebrows at your husband. He licks his lips tantalizingly and you could swear that he gets sexier with every passing day. “Who says we’re going to be sleeping?”

Bradley watches you in awe. “Alright, so, you ready to get out of here or what?”

You start laughing again. “We haven’t even had dinner!”

“They’re taking too damn long,” he says with a hint of a whine in his voice. “And I’m not even hungry. For food, anyway.”

You glance down at his hand that’s wrapped around yours on top of the table, his grip tightening slightly in his excitement. “You’re so funny,” you say, but you can’t deny that his eagerness to get on with the evening has your heart racing too.

“Who’s joking?”

You shake your head, knowing that he’s mostly kidding. However, you also know that were you to agree to leave now, he’d skip dinner in an instant. “You’re cute,” you say.

“How cute?” he asks. “Cute enough to fuck before the first course?”

“Bradley!”

He chuckles, squeezing your hand. “That’s a yes, right?”

You give him a pointed look. “Your girl is hungry.”

“I could give you something to eat.”

Your mouth drops open and you glance around fretfully to ensure that nobody’s heard him. You glare at him threateningly, but he probably just finds the action adorable because his grin widens and he slides his fingers through yours.

“I’m kidding, honey,” he says, but the way the word honey sounds in his deep, slightly raspy voice makes you a touch unsettled. Perhaps you’re not as hungry as you thought. You stare into your husband’s dark eyes while his thumb draws slow circles into the back of your hand. You realize that what you want more than dinner rolls and a starter salad is his tongue in your mouth. His hands around your waist, your back pressed up against some wall or other.

“They look pretty busy,” you say, your breathing accelerating with how much your imagined encounter has exhilarated you. “We might have fifteen minutes or so.”

Bradley cocks an eyebrow, his thumb pausing its languid strokes. “Are you serious?”

You shrug. “Unless you’re not up for it.”

“Oh,” he says. “I’m definitely up for it. In fact, I’m up just thinking about it.”

You exhale sharply. “Let’s do it,” you say resolutely, rising from your seat.

Bradley looks up at you in disbelief as you spring up from your seat and pull down at the hem of your dress. He reaches over to brush his fingers over your thigh. “Why bother?” he says in a low voice. “I’ll be pulling it back up in a minute.” His thumb brushes the skin under your dress until you swat at his hand in shock.

“Bradley!” you hiss. “Don’t be so fucking obvious about it.”

Bradley smirks, adjusting his jeans before standing up. “I want everybody to know that I get to touch you,” he says into your ear as he pulls you in by the waist. “I’m very proud of that, you know?”

You melt into his arms as he draws your body into his chest, steering you toward the back hall of the restaurant. You can sense that the two of you are being so indiscreet that it’s bordering on obscene but, in the moment, you hardly have a care in the world.

You shuffle through the corridor toward the rear, past the swinging kitchen door, and Bradley’s hands close around your shoulders as he drives you into one of the darker alcoves near the exit. The back room that’s normally reserved for private parties is empty, so the two of you have the space to yourselves.

As soon as he’s pressed his body against yours, Bradley starts pulling up your dress. He leans his head into yours as his fingers hook into the lacy band of your panties and he lets out a shaky sigh.

“Do you have a condom?” you breathe heavily into his face as his lips catch yours in several soft, sensual kisses.

“No,” he says. Then, he gives you a mischievous grin. “But when has that stopped us before?”

Read next: The Making of Rooster's Brood

Rooster Tag List:

Please feel free to let me know if you no longer wish to be tagged in future Rooster fics/if you no longer consume Rooster content <3 My Rooster tag list might be overflowing 😅

@simp-for-fictional-people

@ollyoxenfrees

@iamabeautifulperson18

@living-in-my-imagination88

@wintercap89

@mavrellover91

@gingerbreadandpaper

@lonelywitchv2

@cashwheelersgirl89

@callsign-jupiter

@kindablackenedsuperhero

@everything-i-love-in-life

@malindacath

@rosiahills22

@wandering-wah

@olliepig

@m1llydins

@emilyniamh3679-blog

@footwatter

@books-for-summer

@harper1666

@coffeeaddictedmay

@diabeticgoth

@katiebby04

@problematic-420

@wishfulhope

@elizabitchsshit

@inarabee

@boringusername3

@zombiedixon89

@izz-ayes-world

@ratedtvpg

@mak-32

@sunnysofia

@a-nostalgic-disaster

@aaliyahjovel

@anyonehaveanyorangeslices

@bcon24

@lovemesomevesey

@daydreamingalways

@gerudolivinliv

@emilybradshaw

@olivethenerd16

@kaitlynw011

@l-rexter45

@xoxo-lyss

@beebslebobs

@dracosluvbot

@peoniarose

@annedub

2K notes · View notes

sudzymactavish · 3 months

Text

Bloody Love

Makarov x M!reader

This is a really graphic fic so if you're easily disturbed I REALLY wouldn't read this. :(. I'll make fluff soon 😌 ‼️

TW: blood, gashes, cuts, blood, gore, graphic depictions of murder, crimes, drugging, suffocating reader with rag, slurred speech, reader referred as a dog, teasing, reader feeling fear, reader feeling depressed, reader feeling despair, bribes/141 pays Makarov to keep reader, crying, abandonment, cursing, reader is put on a leash, dehumanizing reader, degrading reader (not sexual), reader referred as an object/trophy, reader bathed by strangers, sedating reader, referring murder to art, kidnapping, knives, bloodlust, military, dark themes in general. If I missed any, I'm so sorry. Please correct me if I missed any TWs.

Your shaky legs stumbled to the door, gashes and cuts riddling your body. A trail of blood followed you, barely making it back to your husband and collapsing.

Months before, you were a member of the 141. They were your friends. You could always trust them, and they could trust you.

Although, that changed when Makarov took you all for himself. Using a cloth sprayed with chloroform, he swiftly dragged you away and took you to his safe house in St. Petersburg.

Goodmorning, sergeant [name]. Makarov held your chin in his hand, cooing down at you. The chloroform still had an effect on you, so you slurred out threats; "you won't get away with this. The 141 will sav-" Makarov laughed in your face.

You silly dog. The 141 isn't going to save you he jeered with a smirk. Your heart beat a little faster at that, the fear setting in that they didn't want to come back for you.

"What are you talking about? They're going to come back. I came for them, they wouldn't just-" pay me to take you? Oh, you poor man. They did. One of Makarov's men showed you a briefcase filled with lots of money. About a million, if you had to estimate.

You can't belive this. You won't belive this. They wouldn't leave you like that. Your mind fell down the rabbit hole, and so did your tears down your face. You cared about your friends, and now they abandon you? Leave you with this.. bastard??

In a fit of anger, you tried to jump at him. To cut him, make him bleed, anything. Your attempt was stopped by a cold metal pulling your neck back.

Horrified, you reached up and felt the cool metal. Makarov had put you on a fucking leash!?

I can't have my favorite man escape, right? He pet you, ruffling your disheveled hair. You should get some rest now. I'll be showing you off tomorrow, my little trophy.

He left before you could say anything.

The next morning, you were bathed by his men (you had to be sedated multiple times) and put into a pretty little suit.

You were in despair. You were being paraded to his men around the safe house, that was more like a mansion. Being a criminal was easy money. But none of the money in the world could make your sadness go away. You missed home. You missed the loving feeling you got from the boys.

You ate extravagant food, but you weren't hungry. You just wanted to be home. To feel at home. Nothing could replace that.

One day, after a few months of this, you didn't crack. You were still severely depressed from your only home being ripped away from you. You know, I've seen your file, [name]. Your eyes widened. First of all, how did he gets his hands on that? Also, did he see your past?

In the past, you were a delinquent. Getting in trouble, sneaking out, getting pulled over, mass murder..

You had a really bad problem. You killed a few people—you swear you didn't mean to. You escaped that whole mess and joined the 141, half of you hoping to do good after your horrible actions.

But gosh, you missed that feeling. You missed the blood splatting all over you. You loved seeing that silver blade plunge into their hears. It was art. Red paint covering a canvas, your brush sharp. It was actually half the reason you joined the military, to continue your artistic passion. Would Makarov fill your bloodlust?

I DO NOT condone ANYTHING in this fic. Everything that is done to reader is NOT OKAY. Anyways.. that was really dark. How about something to cheer yall up??

#cod modern warfare #gay #cod #tf 141 #cod makarov #call of duty makarov #vladimir makarov #x male reader #makarov x reader #sudzyswritings

81 notes · View notes

eddiemunsons80sbaby · 5 months

Text

Never Say Never

Chapter 7

Pairing: SingleDad!StevexReader

Summary: You are a 32 year old single mother, raising your seven year old son on your own. After being widowed at 30 and going out on awful dates with disgusting men for the past month, you have decided that you're giving up. You already had your great love. One person can't possibly get lucky enough to have two in their lifetime. But then your son starts playing baseball and the coach might just change your mind about that.

No posting schedule.

18+ only for eventual smut

Word Count: 8.4K

1 2 3 4 5 6

“Now, Eli, remember what we talked about?” you asked your son from the driver’s seat.

You were on your way over to Steve’s house for the cookout and you'd had to lay down some ground rules for your son before you'd left. You could not bear a repeat of the ice skating disaster, especially not in front of his friends. You could just imagine how horrified they would be for you with your son desperately trying to find you a man like you were some pathetic spinster who couldn’t manage to get one on your own.

You could. You absolutely could if you wanted to. You could if there were any decent options out there. Options that didn’t include guys who collected their toenail clippings like they were trading cards or who didn’t call their ex to ensure they drove by while you were at dinner because they were just using you to make them jealous.

But there were options, weren’t there? Steve was an option. Steve was an option that was perfect. You'd yet to find a flaw in him and it was beginning to frustrate you. Maybe that was why he wasn’t an option. How could you ever be good enough to compete with his perfection? Your entire body sagged with exhaustion at the mere thought of trying to be good enough for him.

“I know, mommy. No talking about marriage or dating.”

“And?”

“And definitely no telling Steve that I want him to be my dad.”

“Yes, exactly,” you nodded, smiling at your son in the mirror. But the face that greeted you did not smile. He looked absolutely miserable, deflated, as if you'd taken a needle and popped the balloon that was all his hopes and dreams. You felt like the worst mother ever.

Was it really so awful that Eli wanted a dad? Janice was right. He had a dad. Justin would always be his dad but Justin would never be able to be there for him. He wouldn’t be there to cheer him on at games. He wouldn’t be there to talk to him about dating. He wouldn’t be there to teach him how to shave. He wouldn’t watch him graduate high school or show him how to drive a car.

Of course your son wanted someone to step into those shoes. Of course he wanted someone who could be everything he was missing. It wasn’t awful that he wanted a man in his life but it was mortifying that he was asking some guy he barely knew to not only be his dad but to be your boyfriend. Hell, your husband, because those two were already planning out a wedding, moving in together, being a fully formed family. How could you get him to understand why it wasn’t okay to say those things without breaking his little heart?

“Listen, buddy…I know you want a dad. I know you see Jeremiah with Steve and you are seeing everything that you don’t have. I know how much you miss your dad and there’s nothing wrong with wishing you had that. And Steve is wonderful. I can see why you would choose him but the thing is, you can’t just choose someone. It doesn’t work like that and Steve barely knows us. You can enjoy spending time with him and hanging out with him. You can even love him but you can’t just ask someone to be your dad and you definitely can’t ask someone to be my husband. That has to be something that the grown ups decide.”

“So why aren’t you deciding it?”

“Eli, we barely know each other.”

“So? Jeremiah and I barely knew each other when we decided we were gonna be best friends. Don’t you like him?” your son stubbornly asked and damn, he looked so much like Justin. Justin used to get that exact look on his face when you were being a pain in the ass, which was quite often if you were honest.

“I do. I like Steve a lot.”

“So, why don’t you guys go on a date? You went on a date with those other guys and you said it was awful. But you didn’t know them. You already know Steve and you said he’s wonderful. Just go on a date and make the decision.”

Once again, you found yourself wishing that life were as simple as your son seemed to think it was. But it wasn’t. Nothing about this was simple. You were a mess. You were the emotional equivalent of a town leveled by a tornado. You couldn’t get out of your head long enough to even allow yourself to relax with Steve. How would you ever ask him out?

“I’m sorry, Eli. I’m sorry if Mommy hasn’t been doing a good enough job.”

“What do you mean?”

“I try. I try to be both for you. I know you’re missing out on something and I try to make up for it but I know I can never be everything your dad would have been for you. I’m sorry if you’re feeling like this because I haven’t done enough.”

“No, mommy. You’re the best mommy in the world. You read comics with me, we have backwards dinner, we build legos together. I don’t want Steve to be my daddy because you’re not enough. I want Steve to be my daddy because I think it would make you happy too. You’re the best mommy and you’re so sad sometimes. I hear you crying and it makes me really sad. I know it’s because you’re all alone. I just want you to be happy and when you’re with Steve you smile all the time. I think being a family with him and Jeremiah would make all of us happy.”

You blinked fast and furious against the tears, “Buddy, you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You make me so happy. I’m not ever alone because I have you.”

“But you need a person. You always say daddy was your person. I know I make you happy but I think you need someone to be in love with like Belle and Beast or Aladdin and Jasmine. You take such good care of me. You should have someone to take care of you and Steve is a nice guy. I think he would take really good care of you.”

You slowed as you turned onto Steve’s street, releasing a slow breath. Your son wasn’t wrong. Steve would take amazing care of you. He would take amazing care of your son. You didn’t think he could ever be capable of anything less than amazing.

He was everything that authors wrote about in romance novels. He was the leading man in every romantic movie you'd ever watched. He was the guy you imagined in your dreams when you were a little girl, picturing the guy you would marry, your soulmate, your person. He was fiction come to life, the very definition of flawless. And you just kept getting in your own way, terrified to move forward, scared of what that could mean, of the power that would give him, knowing you couldn’t survive another loss.

Maybe Janice was right. Maybe your son was right. Maybe you needed to take that step, to stop being frozen in time and finally start moving forward. Maybe you needed to stop being petrified of what could happen in the future and just enjoy the moment, now, while you had it. Maybe you needed to stop living with a ghost, a ghost who wasn’t there anymore, a ghost who couldn’t love you. Maybe Justin would want you to be happy, would want your son to have someone in his life. Of course he’d rather it be him, but if it couldn’t be, you had to believe that he wouldn’t want them to be all alone. He would want to know they were taken care of.

“You know what? How about we let this one play out on its own and see what happens?” you asked your son, turning to him as you parked the car in the drive. “We don’t even know if Steve likes me or would want to go on a date with me. You never know what could happen but you can’t force it to happen, okay?”

There it was. There was that bright light shining in your son’s eyes that you loved so much. There was that hope that everything was going to be okay. No, not hope, belief. His little seven year old self just believed that everything would work out and you envied him for that, wishing it could be so easy for you. He nodded eagerly at you with a big toothy grin but there was something a little mischievous in his expression that left you a bit uneasy. Had he heard all your words or, like usual, had he only heard the parts he wanted to listen to?

“Eli…” you began but then your door was being wrenched open and a voice was screeching in your ear.

“Oh my god! Steve said you were coming but I didn’t believe him and now you’re here and I finally get to meet you! I am so excited!”

A blur of dark blond hair, white teeth, and flailing arms grabbed onto you, pulling you from the car and into a bone crushing hug. You gasped for breath, your brain racing to catch up to whatever the hell was happening right now. Who was this person and why were they so excited to see her?

“Robin! Jesus Christ…”

Steve’s irritated voice rang over the squeals in your ear and then the girl’s body was being pulled away from you. You blinked, dazed from her crazed welcome, to find Steve pinching the bridge of his nose. He sighed deeply, shaking his head.

“I’m so sorry about that. She’s like a tidal wave that’s just crashing over you before you can even run and then suddenly you’re drowning. She’s been bouncing around my kitchen, watching out the window for the two of you to get here.”

You glanced from Steve to Robin who was clicking her fingers together, bouncing on her toes, a huge grin separating her face in two. So, this was the best friend. It came back to you now that you could get proper oxygen to your brain once again.

She was pretty, the kind of pretty that just was without even trying very hard. Dark blond waves fell down to her shoulders. Deep blue eyes sat atop a perky nose that was splattered with freckles that continued along her cheeks. She wore a black tee with cargo pants and tennis shoes. She had minimal make-up on, just a touch of mascara and lip gloss and you found yourself deeply grateful to have found a kindred spirit that was in Steve’s life, someone who didn’t paint her face fully before heading out into the world.

“So, you’re Robin, I take it,” you said, offering your hand. “It’s so good to meet you. Steve’s told me about you.”

“Oh, I have heard sooooo much about you!” Robin laughed, taking your hand and pulling you into another hug. “I practically feel like we’re already best friends. Steve talks about you non-stop.”

“Robin!” Steve hissed.

“Whatever.” She waved her hand with a roll of her eyes. “He does. Of course he tells me everything. That’s the perks that come with being best friends. There is nothing I don’t know about Steve. I mean, absolutely nothing.” She started laughing, finally releasing you as she took a step back, her hands flailing wildly. “Like, did you know that when he was a baby he crawled backwards? I mean, like this.” She placed her hands in front of her, pantomiming a backwards crawl. “Isn’t that hysterical? Who crawls like that? Until he went backwards down some steps and conked his head. Oh! And one time, we had a blood drive at our high school and Steve went. He was being all cocky, thinking he didn’t need the cookie and juice. He was a man and could handle a little blood being taken, right? Until he passed out in the boy’s bathroom and had to get six stitches in his head from where he hit it on the urinal. Gross, right? Oh! And this one time…”

“Robin, seriously,” Steve groaned, holding up his hands. “Please stop.” He turned to you, eyes rolling upward, an annoyed smile tensing his face.

“Fine,” his best friend huffed, folding her arms but then she leaned into you with a grin. “But if you want to know the best stories about Steve, you know where to go.”

“Best stories about Steve?” came another voice as a short, curly haired guy appeared on the front porch. “Oh, I definitely have a few of those. Remember when Billy Hargrove pantsed you in front of the whole school? That was pretty humiliating.”

You choked back a laugh, looking apologetically at Steve when he shot you an annoyed look. You shrugged, pressing your lips together hard. Okay, nobody wanted to get pantsed but he was the popular guy, the guy all the girls wanted. How bad could it be?

“I mean, it’s embarrassing but it can’t have been that bad,” you said sympathetically.

“Oh, it was that bad. Our boy decided to go commando that day. The whole school got a first eye look at his twig and berries.”

“Why in the hell were you going commando?” you asked, snorting.

“I didn’t have any clean underwear, okay? My parents were out of town and the maid wasn’t coming for another two days and I didn’t know how to do laundry. I had no other choice.”

Your eyebrows lifted, “You didn’t know how to do a load of laundry when you were in high school?”

“Are you kidding?” the new guy chortled, bounding down the steps and approaching Steve, propping his elbow up on his shoulder. “King Steve? Mr. Richie Rich? He had people to do that kind of shit for him. Why would he ever get his hands dirty like that?”

“You know, who needs enemies when I have friends like the two of you?” Steve cringed, roughly raising his shoulder to knock his friend’s elbow off. “Do you find amusement in humiliating me as much as humanly possible?”

The curly headed guy shrugged with a grin so wide, you could see all of his teeth. Even his eyes joined in, squinting into slits, the smile taking up his whole face. He was adorable. He might be grown but there was something so boyish about his features that just made him precious and darling, like Eli when he gave you those big eyes and that sad face. You could see this guy getting whatever he wanted because that face would be hard to refuse.

“It is a constant source of pleasure in my life, Steve. So, thank you for that.” He stuck his hand out to her. “Dustin.”

“Y/N,” you replied, giving his hand a quick shake. “I’ve heard all about you too. The unofficially adopted little brother, right?”

Dustin laughed, “I guess. More like I got stuck with this guy because my mom decided he would be a good role model for me. She signed him up as a babysitter even though I was way too old and far too smart to require one.”

“Mommy, can I go inside and find Jeremiah?” Eli asked, hands pulling at the hem of your top. He was obviously not finding this conversation very interesting.

“Yeah, kid. He’s out back with Miles in the sandbox. I’m sure he’s just waiting for you. It’s all he’s been talking about since he woke up this morning,” Steve answered. “Go on through.” Folding his arms, he rolled his eyes toward you. “Jere loves when Miles ‘plays’...,” he made air quotes around the word, “in the sandbox with him. Really, the big oaf just digs and then sprinkles sand all over my house.”

Another car pulled in the drive and you turned in interest. Steve hadn’t mentioned anyone else being here for the cookout. A boy with a fade stepped out from the driver’s seat and a girl with long red hair emerged from the other side. The back door opened and a boy with a prominent nose and jet black hair appeared, holding the hand of another girl with shoulder length light brown hair. Apparently, this was a bigger gathering than he’d originally told you.

“You made it!” Steve called out, approaching the newcomers.

The boy with shaggy hair was getting into the trunk, “Yeah. We were just waiting on Lucas.” He rolled his eyes toward the boy.

“Sorry that I had work to do, Mike,” Lucas muttered. “You know, it’s tax season. It’s not my fault that so many people always wait until the last possible minute to take care of it.”

“Well, Max is working on a new case and yet she still managed to be ready on time,” Mike shot back.

“Yeah but it’s barely begun. I have the first meeting with the client to talk legal strategy and next steps this week. Besides, it’s easy to have lots of time when you’re working from home, right Mike? How’s that novel coming along?” the red head challenged.

“It’s coming! I got another seven hundred words written yesterday. You know, writing a novel is not as simple as you all seem to think it is. There’s a lot of research that goes into it.”

“Research? Into a fantasy book based off your DnD adventures?” Steve laughed. “What are you researching? How to still be cool when you’re a massive nerd?”

“Hey, my Mike is very cool,” the girl who’d been in the back with him stated in defense.

“Thanks El. I have to research mythology, folklore, history. It’s not just all make-believe. Some of this is based on legends that have been passed down through generations. I also have to research weaponry and battle tactics. It’s not just as simple as sitting down and typing.”

“Okay, okay,” Lucas chuckled, holding up his hands. “You know we’re just messing with you, man. We’re all going to be celebrating right along with you when you become the next great author.”

“Yeah,” Robin piped in. “We’ll throw you a party with balloons and everything.”

“You guys are jerks,” Mike muttered but there was just a hint of a smile on his face as he said it, letting you know that they were all just messing around.

“So, you must be Y/N,” Max said, stepping into you, offering her hand which you took in another handshake. Did everyone here already know who you were? “Sorry about that. Quite a way to meet all of us. But in case you missed it, I’m Max. That’s my husband, Lucas. That’s Mike and his wife El.”

“Nice to meet you.”

The new foursome looked to be about the same age as Dustin. Had Steve babysat all of these guys? There were hugs all around and then Dustin was helping Mike haul in what looked to be dishes for the cookout. That reminded you and you opened the back door, pulling out a foil covered tray.

“Oh, you didn’t need to bring anything,” Steve commented.

“I wanted to. I mean, isn’t it customary when you’re invited to a cookout to bring something?”

“What did you bring?” asked Robin eagerly.

“I baked some lemon bars,” you answered with a shrug. “Nothing fancy but they’re Eli’s favorite.”

“Ohh! Yummy. I love lemon. It’s just such a fun flavor, you know? It makes me think of sunny summer days or really clean stuff. My mom loved lemon Pledge when I was a kid and after she cleaned the house, the whole place smelled like lemon.”

“Alright Robin, how about we all head inside?” Steve offered with an amused snort. They all made their way toward the house and Steve hung back, walking alongside you. “Sorry about all of this. My friends can be a bit…well, much when you first meet them.”

“I think they’re wonderful,” you assured him with a smile. “Seriously. I love how close you all are.”

“How do you know we’re close when all you saw was us picking on Mike?”

“Oh, the way you all just banter back and forth. But it’s just that, innocent teasing. To a casual observer it may appear that you all annoy each other but you really only pick apart the ones you love the most. And you all do it with a smile. I can just tell.”

“Have excellent skills of observation, do you?” he asked, those hazel eyes soft like the caramel in the middle of a chocolate.

“I like to think so.”

“Okay.” His hand fell on your arm, stopping you just outside the door as the others went in, leaving the two of you on the porch. “So, tell me oh keen observer, what do you notice about me?”

You paused, your heart fluttering in your chest because you noticed everything about him. You noticed the way his hand always ran through his hair when he was nervous. You noticed how his eyes couldn’t just be described as hazel, how they shifted like a mood ring, sometimes more gold or more green or more brown. You noticed how soft his face went whenever he spoke about his son. You noticed how calloused his fingers were from his time spent doing manual labor. You weren't sure there was anything you hadn’t noticed about him. He had completely consumed your thoughts ever since that moment he turned around at the ball field.

“Okay. You’re a hopeless romantic even though things didn’t turn out right for you. You haven’t let it jade you. You still believe that you’ll find your happily ever after. You know the divorce was the right thing but you worry sometimes that it is going to affect Jeremiah in some long lasting way. Your parents never divorced and you think they should have because their dysfunctional relationship had an awful impact on you. But you can’t help wondering if you’re doomed to screw up with your son because you never had a role model to show you how to do it correctly. Neither of those things should you worry about by the way because I have also noticed that you are an amazing dad. There’s nothing you wouldn’t do for your son and he is one of the happiest, most well-adjusted kids I have ever seen. You are giving, almost to a fault. You would bleed yourself dry for the people you care about until you had nothing left. You don’t ever stop to take care of yourself because you’re too worried about other people. And you are absolutely infuriating because you don’t seem to have a flaw. You just seem to be about as perfect as a guy can be.”

You inhaled a deep breath, watching his face, wondering if you'd said too much. You hoped you hadn’t offended him in any way. None of what you said was meant to be an insult. You thought everything about him was commendable. He’d had a tough childhood but he hadn’t let it turn him bitter. His marriage had failed but he still had hope that he could find his person and that was beautiful. To still have hope in the face of defeat was a lovely thing and something a lot of people couldn’t hold onto once life had knocked them down a couple times.

His lips pursed into a tight smile, his eyes looking off to the side before coming back to you, “Trust me, I’m not perfect. I mean, you’re not wrong about anything you said except for that. Anyone in that house right now would be happy to list my many flaws for you if you asked.”

“Like what?” you challenged because so far, you hadn’t been able to find a single one.

“Well, I can be really overprotective. Robin and Dustin get very annoyed when I meddle in their lives.”

“That just means you care a lot and you want what’s best for the people you love,” you shrugged. “Sorry, not really a flaw. Try again.”

“I’m really insecure,” he stated. “I’m always questioning everything I do. I didn’t used to be that way. I used to be arrogant as hell. I never doubted myself but now I doubt myself all the time. I doubt myself as a parent. I definitely doubt myself with women.”

“That just means you’re open to learning and being better. None of us have it all down. You think I don’t doubt myself as a parent on a daily basis? We all do. And dating? Forget it. I haven’t dated anyone since before Justin. I have no idea what I’m doing. We’re all just learning as we go and trying to be the best versions of ourselves we can be. Not a flaw, Steve. It just means you’re human.”

“Okay, well, how about the fact that I married the wrong girl and stayed with her for way too long?”

“You’re loyal,” you shrugged. “Maybe to a fault but you tried. You tried everything you could to make it work because that’s who you are. You didn’t want to let her down. You didn’t want to just walk away and give up. You still care about her and have a good relationship with her. Do you know how incredible that is? That you saw the mistake, recognized it, rectified it, and then did what was right by your son?”

“You know, you’re going to give me an ego problem. I already had one of those. It didn’t end well for me. I work really hard to stay humble and that could prove difficult when you’re telling me I’m perfect.”

“You, Steve Harrington, are perfectly imperfect. You recognize your weaknesses, you work hard to be better, and you do everything in your power to make sure the people you love are happy. Even I will admit no one is perfect but you’re pretty damn close.”

“You think so?” The words barely a whisper as he leaned into you, his lips a breath away from yours. “Because I think…”

“What the hell are you two doing out here?” Dustin huffed as he threw open the door again. “I thought we were all here for a cookout.”

Steve’s eyes rolled, his head falling back and you had the distinct impression that he was annoyed you'd been interrupted. You couldn’t say you didn’t feel the same way. Your lips tingled, yearning for something that hadn’t happened. You were pretty sure he’d come really close to kissing you again but the universe didn’t seem to want it to happen, regardless of what you wanted.

____________________________________________________________

“Men never really grow up, do they?” Robin mused from her spot in the chair next to you.

You were sitting on Steve’s deck, relaxing with a glass of wine after a dinner of barbecued chicken, corn on the cob, grilled red potatoes, and a salad. It was delicious. The chicken had been just blackened enough without being burnt, the barbecue sauce caramelizing delectably. Steve was definitely a good cook, just one more little check on the perfection side for him while the opposite side sat blank.

“Not really,” you laughed, watching as Mike, Dustin, and Jeremiah chased Steve, Lucas, and Eli, all of them armed with Nerf guns, Miles bounding behind them all as if he didn’t know which team he belonged to but he wanted to be a part of it. “My husband…Justin, he was just a big child at heart. The Christmas after Eli was born he bought him three lego sets for Christmas. I commented how silly it was because he was only nine months old. But he really bought them for himself. It gave him an excuse to get the toys so he could play with them and build them.”

“Lucas is like a baby,” Max chimed in. “He whines if I don’t give him enough attention. Seriously, you should have seen him a few months ago. I had this big case, a woman accused of murdering her husband. I was working really long hours and he would whine about how he was missing his Max time.”

“That’s sweet though,” you told her, taking a sip of your wine, the bubbles dancing pleasantly along your tongue. “He missed you.”

“It’s annoying,” Max snorted, but then her face softened as she rolled her eyes. “But yeah, he is pretty sweet. I guess I’ll keep him for a while.”

“How about Mike?” you asked, leaning forward toward El.

“Oh, Mike is definitely a manchild. He plays video games all the time and his friends still come over to play DnD. I kind of thought he would grow out of it but he hasn’t. They still have DnD night every single Thursday.” She shrugged, grabbing an olive from the bowl on the table and popping it in her mouth. Leaning back, she tucked her legs underneath her. “But it works out because then Max and I have girls night every week.”

“I love girls night. My friend, Janice, and I try to do them every once in a while but that’s been harder since…” you broke off, unsure if any of them knew about what had happened to Justin.

“Since your husband passed?” asked Robin gently, her hand coming to rest on your arm. “Jeremiah told Steve that Eli’s dad went to heaven. I’m so sorry. That had to be awful for you.”

“It was. It…wasn’t expected. He wasn’t sick or anything. He was a Marine. He was stationed in Somalia for a humanitarian mission. It was supposed to be peaceful. He said it was nothing to worry about because they were only going over there to help. There was no fighting. He wasn’t supposed to…” You ran a hand over your mouth, willing yourself to keep it together in front of these people you'd only met a couple hours ago. “Anyway, I don’t know all of the details. Of course not. I’m not a soldier so I’m not allowed to. But there was some civil strife, locals who didn’t like American involvement, and he was caught in the crossfire.”

“Jesus,” Max whispered. “How long ago?”

“It’s been a little over two years now. Eli was five when it happened. They send people to your door to deliver the news.” You cleared your throat, eyes scanning the sky, emotions raging to get through that you were battling back with everything you had. “Two people in uniform knock on your door and trust me, when you’re married to someone in the military, you know what that means. They show up and send a wrecking ball straight through the middle of your life. He…he was sent home and we were able to have a funeral. I was told I should consider myself lucky because some people only get to bury an empty coffin or…pieces.”

“Oh my god,” gasped El, her hand covering her mouth.

“I couldn’t find any luck in what had happened. I was left a widow, a single mother…alone. My son was left fatherless. I went into a dark place for a while and if it hadn't been for my friend, Janice, I don’t know if I would have made it out of the other side. That little boy right there…” You pointed to Eli, tears glistening in your eyes. “He’s the only thing that really forced me to keep going. I knew he needed me.” Your palms pressed into your eyes, pressing the tears down and away. You took a long drink of your wine before releasing a forced laugh. “Anyway, what a horribly depressing topic of conversation. Let’s talk about someone else, please. El! Mike is writing a book? That has to be exciting.”

“I don’t know if exciting is the word. He’s been working on it for the past five years,” she groaned. “He works part-time at the local bookstore but if it weren’t for my job, we wouldn’t be able to pay the bills. I want to support him. I know this book means a lot to him but I did not think it would take up this much time in our lives.”

“Why hasn’t he sent it out yet?” asked Robin. “Hasn’t he had it finished for a year?”

“He says he’s still polishing it. Honestly, I think he can’t get out of his own head. I think he’s scared to send it because he’s scared of getting rejected.”

You leaned forward to set your empty wineglass on the table, “I get that. Rejection is terrifying and he will probably get a lot of them. Most authors don’t sell their books to the first person they send it to. Some of them get a hundred rejections before they find the publisher who is willing to take a chance on them. But he’s never going to know if he doesn’t take the leap. Have you talked to him about it?”

“Kind of.” She cringed, shaking her head. “Not really. I want to support him, you know. I don’t want to push him but I’m really tired of having to work all the overtime I can just to keep us afloat. I feel like I’m paddling a sinking boat while he’s just sitting in the back trying to enjoy the ride.”

“Then tell him that. You shouldn’t be the only one supporting you two. You supported him while he worked on his dream. It’s done now so he needs to bite the bullet and see what happens. And in the meantime, he needs to start working more hours to help out. You can tell him how you’re feeling without bashing him and you can still support him while expecting him to do his part too.”

El smiled, “Thanks. You’re pretty smart about relationship stuff.”

“Well, I was married for eight years. I don’t know. I always found open communication was the way to go. Men are not mind readers. They cannot begin to fathom the amount of emotions or thoughts that race through us every single day. When I just told Justin what I was thinking or how I was feeling, he always tried to do what he could. Hiding your feelings isn’t going to help anything. Just put it out there. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Robin smirked, “Well, in that case, let me send some honesty your way.” Leaning in, she propped her elbows on her knees, wineglass held between both of her hands. “That guy over there?” Her eyes flitted to where Steve was lifting Eli over his head as the boy giggled. “He may be a dingus but you’d be hard pressed to find a better guy than him.”

“I never said Steve wasn’t a good guy,” you stated, your stomach twisting, wondering where this was going.

“I know. But he likes you. I mean, he really likes you and he’s too much of a chicken shit to say it so I’m going to say it for him. Because that guy, he deserves the world. He deserves everything good and wonderful. He deserves true love, happy endings, and all that romantic shit. And meeting you, I can see why he likes you.”

“I don’t understand. I mean, we’ve been hanging out but only because Eli and Jeremiah are friends and they want to spend time together.”

Max snorted into her wine, “You really think he’s been hanging out with you just so the boys can spend time together? Please. Steve wears his heart on his sleeve, okay? He’s been inviting you to everything because he wants to see you.”

“When he talks about you, his face gets all glowy,” El grinned. “He definitely likes you. And Steve, well he’s not had the best luck when it comes to women.”

“Because he picks wrong,” Robin added, “but this time, I don’t think he has. Now, I know you have a complicated past and I don’t know where you’re at as far as being ready for something serious. And I like you. I really like you. I think you’d be great for him but please, don’t start anything with him if you’re not ready to be all in. Because that man has been through more than his fair share of heartbreak and I don’t know that I can stand to watch him go through it again.”

“Yeah, the whole divorce with Nance really fucked with his head,” Max sighed. “It made him question everything, knowing that he’d tried to stick it out for so long with someone who was wrong for him. Then his choices after that were just all bad. He’s lost a lot of confidence. That King Steve swagger has been long gone for a while. The last girl was super clingy and asked him to move in after only a few months.”

“Oh! Janet. She was, like, creepy stalker obsessed,” El exclaimed. “She still asks me about him all the time when she comes into the grocery store. She is super convinced they’re soulmates. I’m telling you, that woman is not right.”

“No, she’s not but my point is, just don’t make him your rebound guy, okay?” Robin requested, bringing the conversation back on point. “He deserves so much more than that. And I haven’t seen him look like this when he’s talking about a girl in…” She paused, lips pursing. “Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look like this. So, you’re obviously special to him and because of that, I think you have the capacity to absolutely shatter him. Just make sure you’re ready before you dive into anything.”

“I…uh…yeah, obviously,” you stammered, a flash of heat, like standing in front of an oven, suddenly racing over your body. Shit. You were about to have an anxiety attack right here in front of all these people. “We’re not even…I wouldn’t…I…you know what? I need to use the bathroom. I…”

“Are you okay?” asked El, concerned.

“Fine. I just…I’ll be back…”

You stumbled through the house, past the kitchen, the living room, and finally into the bathroom. Your hands pressed against the door, pushing firmly, trying to focus on the feel of the wood underneath your skin. Dampness clung to your skin as you looked around frantically, focusing on the pattern in the backsplash above the sink, blues swirling with greens. Your hand reached for the faucet, turning it on, closing your eyes, allowing the sound of the water running to clear your head. You wiggled your fingers, pressed your middle finger and thumb together, feeling the pressure as you felt your muscles relax, your breathing slow, your heart rate come down.

“Jesus Christ, get it together,” you muttered to yourself.

What were you doing? What were you thinking? Even his friends thought this was a bad idea. You couldn’t tell Steve that you liked him. What if you hurt him? What if you were so broken that you couldn’t give him what he needed? What if you thought you were sure but you weren't and then it all went wrong? No one could be certain of anything. Nothing was guaranteed in life. You knew that better than anybody.

Cupping your hands, you collected water and splashed it onto your face to cool your body. Opening your eyes, you jolted when you caught sight of yourself in the mirror, rivers of black running down both cheeks. Grabbing onto Steve’s hand towel, you ran it under your eyes.

“Shit! Oh my god!”

The towel was cream and now it was covered in streaks of your mascara. Your eyes darted around the bathroom. For what, you had no idea. You stuck the towel under the water, attempting to rub at the streaks with your fingers but that only made it worse. Now they weren’t just streaks but massive black blobs covering the fabric.

“Hey,” came Steve’s voice from the other side of the door and you jumped, knocking the toothbrush holder into the sink.

“Jesus!” you yelped, picking it up, placing it back.

“Are you alright in there?”

“I’m fine! I’m fine. I just…I…”

With a groan, you unlocked the door and pulled it open, holding his towel out to him. He looked down at it and then back up at you, obviously confused as to why you were offering him a soaking wet towel and you burst into tears.

“I’m sorry. I was…I was hot and I just wanted to wet my face but then my mascara ran and I didn’t know and I wiped my face on your towel and then it got on it and I tried to wash it out but I only made it worse and now your towel is ruined and I’m a mess and I…”

“Whoa. Whoa,” he said softly and then he was taking the towel and he was holding you. One hand cupping the back of your head, the other on the middle of your back. His thumb ran soothingly up and down the back of your neck and your eyes slipped closed, sinking into the feeling of being held, being taken care of. “It’s just a towel. I don’t care about a towel. I care about you. Are you alright, honey?”

He wanted to know if you were okay. He cared about you. And did he just call you honey? Was he kidding right now? Did he have to make it even harder to walk away from the possibility of him? All you wanted to do was curl up in his arms and allow him to carry it for a while. All the pain, all the exhaustion, all the uncertainty. Just let someone else ease your burden for a bit but that wasn’t fair to him. His friends had made it clear to you that you were the last thing he needed in his life. You would only bring complications.

Steve deserved someone who could give them their whole heart and you couldn’t. You weren't even sure you had any to give. Justin had taken so much of it with him and all you had left was for your son. This man was too good to only get pieces and that was all you could offer.

“I’m fine,” you assured him, placing your hands against his chest, pushing back gently. “I’m good, really.” You wiped at your eyes with the backs of your hands, trying to laugh it off. “I don’t know. Just an emotional day. It happens to me sometimes.”

“You sure?” Those eyes. You felt like those eyes could see you in a way no one else had. When Steve looked at you it felt as if he could read right down to your very soul. “The girls said you looked like you might be having an anxiety attack or something. They were worried, wanted me to come in and check on you.”

“I was.” Sometimes honesty was the best policy. Maybe if he knew how entirely messed up you were, he wouldn’t be so interested anymore. “It happens, since my husband…I see a therapist and I have tools for it. I know what to do. I’m fine now. I’m just sorry I made everybody worry and destroyed your towel. I can buy you a new one.”

“Fuck the towel, seriously,” he scoffed. “I was just worried about you. Is there anything I can do?”

“No. Thanks for checking on me but really, I’m fine.” You put on the best smile you could muster, holding your hands out to the side. “See? All good now. We should really get back to the fun, yeah?”

“I don’t know how much fun is happening. Mike just busted out the cornhole boards…”

“Cornhole!?” you exclaimed, probably a little too excitedly. “I love cornhole! Let’s go!”

“You love cornhole?” Steve questioned as if questioning your sanity.

“Of course. What midwesterner doesn’t love a good game of cornhole?”

“I mean…me? It’s okay, I guess.”

“Oh what? Not challenging enough for Mr. I played every sport imaginable? It doesn’t quite have the excitement of shooting a ball into a net or hearing that crack when the bat hits the ball?”

“Not really. I mean, yeah, I like to win but…I actually wanted to ask you…”

“Later! Cornhole!”

No. Nope. You were not giving him the opportunity to ask you anything. You turned, hurrying through the house as he rushed behind you. Sliding the glass door open, you stepped onto the deck, greeting everyone’s worried face with a bright smile. You were fine. This was fine. Everything was going to be fine.

“Hey, we were worried when you ran off like that,” Max said, eyebrows knitting together. “You okay?”

“Did you get attacked, mommy?” asked Eli.

“Attacked? Who’s attacking her in Steve’s house?” asked Mike.

Dustin shrugged, “You never know. Steve, did you attack her?”

“What? No. Obviously I didn’t attack her!”

“I didn’t get attacked,” you sighed.

“Then why would Eli ask if someone attacked you? Do you get attacked often?” questioned Max.

“My mommy’s feelings attack her,” Eli explained. Oh, sweet, sweet boy, but you really wished he’d stop talking. “Her heart goes super fast and she can’t breathe and she has to look at stuff and listen to stuff.”

Mike frowned. “Her feelings attack her?”

“It’s an anxiety attack, dingus,” Robin huffed, smacking him in the chest.

“Ow!” Mike protested, rubbing his shirt. “That hurt. Excuse me for not knowing what that meant. I pictured a bunch of emotions chasing her down and beating her with a stick.”

“Oh…we should add something like that to one of our campaigns,” Dustin grinned. “Imagine, you drink a potion or have a spell cast on you that sends your emotions outside of your body. It gives them corporeal form and they start attacking and you have to figure out how to battle them back or…no! You have to figure out how to control them to make them go away. Oh, that’s some existential shit right there.”

“Dustin!” Lucas shouted. “Maybe not the time. She’s clearly having a breakdown.”

“I am not breaking down. I’m fine,” you protested.

“Isn’t that what an anxiety attack is? Should we call an ambulance? Are you like completely losing it?”

“Jesus Christ,” growled Robin. “She’s obviously okay now. An anxiety attack is not a complete mental break you idiots. It’s something that happens in response to stressors around you. Your heart pounds, you get dizzy, you shake, you get hot.” She stopped, turning to you. “Wait. It happened right after we…” Robin’s eyes moved from Max to El and then back to you. “Oh shit. Did we cause…what we said…is this our fault?”

“What? No!” This was the last thing you needed. You barely knew these people. “No. You were just looking out for your friend. I get that. It wasn’t you. It…”

“What do you mean looking out for their friend?” asked Steve. When your eyes went wide and you didn’t answer, he stepped into Robin. “What does she mean? What did you chuckleheads say?”

“Nothing,” squeaked Robin and when he glared, she flinched. “Okay, fine. I may have told her that you like her and that I just wanted her to be sure before she started anything with you because I don’t want to see you hurt.”

“Steve, we were just looking out for you,” El added. “We know how rough you’ve had it with relationships. We didn’t want to see you get hurt.”

“We know after Nance you haven’t trusted yourself. You’ve chosen wrong every single time. I mean, you dated that complete whackadoo, Janet, and look how that ended. You almost had to get a restraining order. She’s still obsessed with you.”

“You like my mommy?” asked Eli, his eyes lighting up. “He likes my mommy!”

Jeremiah shrugged, “I already knew that. I wanted to know if she likes my daddy.”

“She does. She told me in the car that he’s wonderful but she didn’t know if he liked her back but he does! So now they can go on a date!”

Oh my god. This was awful. This was your worst nightmare come to life. You reached out, grabbing onto the back of a chair as you listened to the myriad of voices around you. You weren't even sure you wanted to have this conversation with Steve. In fact, you'd convinced yourself not to and now they were all having it without you, whether you wanted them to or not.

“Jesus, Robin! Are you kidding me? I know you like to meddle in my life but this is insane, even for you!”

“Steve, it’s not insane. And look, her kid just said she likes you. So, why don’t you two stop dancing around each other and just go get coffee already like I told you before. I didn’t tell her not to date you. I like her. I just don’t want you to be her rebound from her dead husband.”

Weights pressing on your chest. Your hands grasped at your clothing, pulling, desperate to loosen the pressure.

“Oh my god!” Max shrieked. “Robin, you can’t just say that like that.”

“I’m sorry! I’m panicking! I say stupid shit when I’m panicking!”

No. Not now. This couldn’t happen now. The world was spiraling, spinning, one hazy blur and you couldn’t find a single thing to focus on. Forget trying to listen to anything when the sounds of their yelling were filling your head completely.

“You always say stupid shit!” yelled Steve.

“But my daddy did die. It’s okay to say it,” Eli piped in.

“We know your daddy passed away but there could have been a gentler way of putting it,” Max told him.

There was no air. Your chest was painful, a python constricting and squeezing around you until you couldn’t breathe.

“Maybe but my point was that you two need to stop acting like shy teenagers with a crush and just go out and bang each other already because you’re not fooling anybody. We can all see how much you want each other.”

“What’s banging?” asked Jeremiah.

“I don’t think they should do that. That doesn’t sound very nice,” Eli disagreed.

“Jesus Robin!” growled Steve.

The entire backyard swam around you, the green of the grass blending into the brown of the fence, the blue of the sky. You couldn’t breathe. You opened your mouth wide, hoping for precious oxygen to make its way where you needed it to but nothing was happening. You couldn’t do this. The entire backyard shrunk down to a single pinprick of light and then the world went black.

Chapter 8

Taglist: @katethetank@roxiehorrorshow@sapphire4082@bakugouswh0r3@frostandflamesfanfic @mix-matchsocks @mushy-mushroom04 @palmtreesx3 @littlebookworm86 @eddies-trailer-babe @cheesewritings @emilyj444

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist. 😊 And replies and reblogs are always appreciated if you enjoy it. ❤️❤️❤️

101 notes · View notes

supernovafeather · 10 months

Text

A Loving Couple

Leto Atreides x F!Reader

Summary : Leto and his wife enjoy some alone time in their quarters.

Content : fluff, slight angst (nightmare), fluff fluff fluff, sexual innuendo.

Please comment and reblog if you like it !

The moon seemed to levitate high in the skies, left unbothered by the noise of thehundreds of powerful waves that attempted to dig their way up the cliffs. Behind your chambers window, you suddenly felt tiny and insignificant as you remembered the solar system simulations you got to study years before. From there you couldn't feel the powerful wind exploding with rage and affected anything that could get stuck in its grasp from leaves to flags that were too loose in the first place, the Atreides coat of arms flying away into darkness. You narrowed your eyes, a sudden anxiety gnawing you from the inside as your wet palms played with your nightgown. One day this House would disappear, like any other one. Nothing was eternal, no ideology, no name, no civilization. Even the ones you cherished the most, as well as your memories.

"Afraid of the storm," inquired a voice behind you.

Leto had been mostly silent tonight, too tired to even try to start any meaningful conversation. This could have passed for negligence for his spouse but you knew better as you let him embrace you from behind, your gaze still glued to the sudden rain now whipping the land. The way he hold you was firm, reassuring. That was what he did best. A safe and protective soul by your side that appreciated your own safety and protective nature.

"No," you replied with a frown, "it's merely an inconvenience tonight. But I found it quite beautiful when the moonlight bathed the scenery. Now it only looks more sinister. Depressing. This time it feels as if the sun is never to be seen again."

Without much reaction to the butterfly kisses finding their favorite spot on your neck, you stared at the moon. It was magnificent. Sometimes you wished you had nothing to do with all those political affairs. Maybe being a rock floating across the solar system would make more sense but alas you got doomed by mankind's greatest and most horrifying gift : consciousness.

"I know how to distract a Lady upset by those negative thoughts," he mumbled before nibbling your ear. "Of course you do," you chuckled, "you always know. You always have a solution to everything." "I try my best. So please my Lady, how may I put an end to this melancholy of yours? If I may add… do you have any detail coming to your mind? Something we could explore together."

After a long list full of previous marital experiments as well as quite a long time spent at testing them again just to make sure you got it right, slumber found you. Then dawn found you as well and for once you were the one being awake first, in a good mood at the sight of your husband completely lost in his deep sleep. The comical view of his open mouth soon let place to a sour feeling as he closed it, his jaws clenching and his thick beard rubbing against the pillow. You knew that face too well and soon the nervous gestures of his arms muscles showed you how right you were. In silence, you extended your hand to Leto, grazing his temple gently with a sympathetic look. He exhaled sharply before jolting but still asleep he then turned his head the other way, clenched his jaws. Another jolts.

"I love you Leto. I'm here," you whispered.

Your husband calmed down and muttered something under his breath as you wiped the thin layer of sweat now forming on his forehead.

"Not fire not again," he mumbled between undecipherable words. "No there is no fire Leto, I'm here right next to you." "They said you weren't."

Some pride remained in him. He would refuse to acknowledge how damaging it had been for him to hear all the remarks about your marriage. All those insults, rumours, jokes. The sincere worries about their respected Duke about to share his life with a widow accused of being a serial widower. Leto was the love of your life and no question mark would ever appear next to those words. You fell hard for a man that chose you for an arranged marriage after thinking that life had nothing to give you anymore. Life gave you the greatest present it had to offer. And this gift needed reassurance.

"I'm here Leto I love you. I'm listening to you and answering. Everything's fine my beloved Duke." "But the fire…" he argued faintly. "There is no fire. I'm not in there. I'm here, healthy and right by your side." "They didn't burn you," he asked with a confused frown. "I'm safe "

A slight convulsion of his legs then he turned his head towards you as he could feel your hand playing with his beard. His lips looked dry so you stopped touching him to pour some fresh water in the glass waiting on the table right by your side of the bed.

"A river, love it" he mumbled.

You smiled, put the glass down the table before crawling up to Leto, a kiss placed on his forehead as you felt his mind calming down.

"A beautiful river, birds singing and your wife that loves you," you promised.

The sudden and powerful snore coming out of his mouth woke Leto up as violently as you jolted away from him and you watched the way he scratched his beard with closed eyes, his tired face translating the confusion reigning in his mind after this.

"Good morning my lovely liege, I got some water for you." "G'morning," he groaned in a cracked deep voice.

It took him a few seconds to stop looking around, a smile appearing as the nightmare left his mind slowly but for good. As your husband took long sips you kissed his cheek then his temple, grinning while doing so as you got closer to him, your hands wandering under the blanket to run down his warm thigh flesh. After he finished drinking he raised an eyebrow at you.

"How can you do it more than twice" he asked in disbelief. "I just wanted you to start a new great day with your great wife and her great care. So let's say that three might be good sometimes."

After a few seconds spent at rubbing his thigh you kissed the corner of his lips to push your corruption attempt even further.

"I love you Leto. I hope you know it. You are a wonderful husband. Not only in bed. In general." "I love you too and thank you, wonderful wife but I have the regret to inform you that sadly, this won't be possible right now," he replied with a tired face but mischievous eyes.

Not insisting anymore you still let a trail of kisses on his bare shoulder, appreciating the muscles rolling under his skin. Even when nonsexual the contact of his skin appeased you. This was his power.

"As you wish my Lord, my Duke, my liege," you whispered against his lips.

Leto kissed you deeply with a slight grin that vanished as he interrupted the kiss in an almost authoritative shift, a stern gaze examining your face.

"Why so much eagerness this morning ?" "I don't know. I want my husband to be all mine all the time these days. I love him very much after all." "I'm all yours every day, every second. After all I have other ways to show you, even when I'm tired."

The playful mood erupting on your face got replaced by one of surprise as you fell backwards. The laugh that erupted from your mouth echoed in your ears before getting silenced by a gentle kiss crowned with a smile.

- - - - -

Thank you for reading please comment and reblog if you like it !

@queen-of-elves @qrjung

#leto atreides #leto atreides x reader #leto atreides x you #oscar Isaac

117 notes · View notes

scorpiussage · 1 year

Text

Alfie with a SO who’s pregnant

Is both horrified and ecstatic when he finds out that you’re pregnant.

On the one hand: he gets to start a family with you and that’s all he’s ever wanted. On the other: the fear that he’ll end up like his own waste-of-space father terrifies him.

I think it would take a lot of convincing on your part to calm him down, but once he feels better about the whole thing, he’ll be ready to be a dad.

He’s going to want to do absolutely everything to prepare. He’s going to take classes, read books, baby-proof everything. Seriously, he’s going to be almost extreme in his desire to be prepared.

If you suffer from morning sickness or aches and pains, he’s going to pamper the hell out of you. He’ll have warm baths already drawn, ginger tea brewed and ready, his lap open and waiting to set your feet so he can rub them. You’re having his bloody baby, after all, you deserve the world.

His protectiveness will ramp up as well. From this moment out, you won’t be going anywhere without at least two big burly guards armed to the teeth. Going to the shops? Expect to have to do that with whatever two muscle heads your husband hires. And complaining won't get you anywhere, either, because Alfie will not budge on this issue. You’re so vulnerable and he worries endlessly about your safety.

When your water breaks, Alfie ends up being the calm one who carefully ushers you to the car, the emergency bag already in tow. He’s a total pillar of strength through the entire birthing process and he refuses to be kicked out of the delivery room.

“Tha’s my baby bein’ born, that is! I ain’t fuckin’ leaving my wife here by ‘erself!”

He is definitely one of those husbands who climbs into the bed with you and helps to hold you in whatever birthing position is most comfortable for you.

You can swear and cuss at him all you want, and he takes it so gracefully.

“Yeah, let it out, love, just let it out,” he’ll murmur in your ear, “You’re almost done, you are, just a little more.”

The first cries of the baby have him freezing up and it isn’t until the doctor prompts him that he climbs out of the bed to come cut the cord.

The sex of the baby doesn’t matter to him at all (though if it’s a girl he’s gonna make her a princess and no one is gonna stop him.) He loves your baby from first sight; he actually starts crying; he thinks the baby you both made is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

This man will absolutely hog the baby, you’re not going to get him to hand them over for anything. He will eventually because the baby needs to eat, but as soon as they're done, he’s got them right back in his arms.

Also, no one is going to get to meet this baby for months afterwards because that’s important bonding time for the two of you and the baby. If Ollie or anyone tries to show up at your house, Alfie will shout them away.

When he finally goes back to work after a long paternity leave, he will literally never shut up about his kid.

Oh, Tommy’s here for a meeting? Say, have I told you about how absolutely perfect my child is and shown you all the supporting evidence I keep in my wallet?

Having a baby might actually be the one thing that gets Alfie to quit the bootlegging business. He knows all too well what men like him do to get ahead and most don’t hold back on families or children the way he does.

He also wouldn’t pressure you to have more children than you feel comfortable with. If one baby is all you want to have, then he’ll haul himself to the doctors and get snipped so that the two of you don’t have to worry about it.

Overall, having a baby with Alfie would be a wonderful experience. 💕

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagines #alfie solomons #alfie solomons imagines #alfie solomons x reader #ask request

363 notes · View notes

honeyedmiller · 1 year

Note

Hey love!! Do you mind doing a Pedro Pascal fic where his relationship with the reader is like Ryan Reynolds and Blake Lively where they’re always roasting each other and teasing each other in interviews and on social media but everyone knows that they absolutely adore each other

y'all just keep requesting the cutest prompts ever I could CRY OMG. I love Ryan and Blake, hope u enjoy<3

warnings: some cursing, fluff, and loooots of sarcasm

"José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal!" You yell your husband's name loudly in your house, horrified at the video that was currently up on your Instagram for the world to see.

"Yes, my dear?" His head peaked around the corner. He was trying relentlessly to hold back a laugh as he saw the look on your face.

"What the hell is this? And when did you even take this?" You look down at the video of you with the most unflattering facial expression while you displayed less than subpar dance moves and sang in an off-key tone to 'Drunk in Love' by Beyoncé in your shared bathroom. The video already had three million likes, with the caption 'Drunk on my sexy ass husband's love. Like seriously. He's sooooooo sexy.'

"Dunno what you're talking about, babe." Pedro's body is in full view now as he gives you an innocent shrug, his brown eyes looking puppy-like.

You scoff and roll your eyes, shooting him a glare. "I don't get mad, Pascal, I get even." You stand up from the couch you were sitting on, walking tall as you maneuvered past your husband, but not before he gave you a smack on the ass.

You giggled at his advancement, running up the stairs as he started to chase you into your bedroom.

"So, what was that video of you on Instagram that went viral the other day? Tell us about it." The interviewer chuckled as they asked the question, looking between you and Pedro.

"My lovely husband here decided he wanted to prank me by posting that video of me on my page. I just kept it up because honestly, what's put on the internet will stay on the internet forever," You look at him and grin, "I'm surprised this old man figured out how to post a video in the first place." You smile sweetly at him and his eyes widen.

"Hey! I'm not old." He retorts, giving your arm a nudge with his elbow.

“Tell that to the iPad you carry around to text people back instead of your actual phone.” You stifle a laugh at his facial expression, covering your mouth.

The interviewer laughs at the back and forth banter and looks to Pedro to see if he has anything to say back.

“Wanna know why I posted that video? To show the world how long it takes you to get ready, sweetheart.” He squints his eyes at you and you scoff with a chuckle.

“I may take forever but I still look amazing as an end result, soooo I don’t know what you’re complaining about here.”

“Yeah, you’re not wrong about that.” Pedro rolls his eyes with a smile laced to his lips.

“You two often pull pranks on each other?” The interviewer asks, amused with the sights unfolding before them.

“More like just roasting the absolute shit out of each other.” Pedro extends his legs in front of him as he moves his arm behind you, wrapping his hand around your shoulder.

"It's all love, though baby. All love."

---------------------

a/n: I'm so sorry this request was so cute but I just got writers block lowkey and couldn't come up with any good roasts. forgive me anon I'm SORRY this was trash 😩

#pedro pascal imagines #pedro pascal #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal fic #husband!Pedro pascal #pedro pascal fluff #pls don't read this its actual trash I'm so sorry lmao

202 notes · View notes

noirsfantasy · 6 months

Text

On the eighth day of Christmas...

ℑ𝔱’𝔰 𝔄 𝔅𝔢𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔦𝔣𝔲𝔩 𝔏𝔦𝔣𝔢

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 ➛ Husband!Idris Elba x Black!Wife Reader

𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 ➛ Fluff

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱 ➛ 2.3K

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 ➛ It’s Christmas morning and your kids are more excited than ever for it. So excited, in fact, they decide to make you and your husband, Idris, a Christmas breakfast. However, you don’t let this minor hiccup ruin the day. You’re reminded just how much your family means to you.

𝔞/𝔫 ➛ Guys, someone please snap me outta my delusions, cuz this story had me imaginan my whole life with him. He’s such Daddy material😋 I really hope y’all like this one!

12 Days of Christmas Masterlist

It's early Christmas morning and the house is silent. I’m sleeping soundly, stealing most of the covers from Idris as he is sprawled across the majority of the bed. I begin to stir once I hear tiny footsteps approaching my room. I shift, hiding my head under the blanket when I hear the door burst open.

“IT’S CHRISTMAS! IT’S CHRISTMAS!” Our 5-year-old daughter, Heaven, shouts as she jumps on the bed, stepping on her father.

"Ah! Heaven, darling, please!" He grimaces as he's suddenly awoken from his slumber, shifting under the blanket and sitting up. He reaches out and grabs her mid-jump, pulling her into his lap. "Do you know what time it is, princess?" He questions groggily and Heaven beams brightly.

"It's Christmas time, Daddy!" She says excitedly and jumps on his lap. I hear footsteps approaching me and then the blanket is pulled away from my face. I squint as the light hits my eyes and bury my face in the pillow.

"Mommy, get up! We made you guys breakfast." Our oldest son Jason tells me, before pulling the rest of the blankets off, causing me to shiver.

"JJ, please just give us five minutes, okay?" I ask, but he shakes his head.

"The food will be cold by then, Mommy!" My heart drops at the realization and Idris and I make eye contact. He sees the stressed look forming on my face and gives me a reassuring one back, turning to the kids.

"Right, Heaven, Jason, it's still early. Why don't you give your mum and me a few more minutes to get ready and then we will be down." He offers, but they don't relent. Heaven continues to bounce up and down and Jason can't seem to contain his excitement.

"We can't, Daddy! It's Christmas! We shouldn't have to wait." His smile is wider as he can't wait to go downstairs and show us what they made. Idris groans and I bury my face again.

"Alright, alright, you monsters. Calm down for a minute." He starts as he stands up and tosses Heaven over his shoulder, making her giggle. "What exactly have you three been up to, huh? Don't tell me you've been cookin' on the stove." He peers at Jason, who smiles and shakes his head again.

"We didn't use the stove, we used the microwave! We made our own special cookies and even decorated them! Come on!" He grabs my hands, pulling me out of bed and leading us both out of the room. We exchange a horrified look, imagining the mess in the kitchen. And we've still not seen our youngest yet. Hopefully, he's asleep.

Upon entering the kitchen, the smell of burnt cookies hits us. I sigh nervously as we round the corner. The kitchen is a mess, with flour and butter everywhere! There's frosting and sprinkles smeared on the counter and an incriminating stepping stool beneath the area. Behind the island, I see two little feet sticking out. I walk over, careful to avoid any mess on the floor and see our youngest son, Luke, on the floor eating frosting from the tube. He smiles as he looks up at me.

"Mommy! Mommy!" He shouts as he stands up and hugs my legs. I begin to regret wearing shorts as his sticky fingers come in contact with my skin.

"Oh, sweetie..." I say, groaning a bit as I take everything in.

"We made a little mess... But aren't the cookies pretty?" Heaven asks, presenting a plate of holiday mush. It seems as if they'd mixed up flour, sugar, and water, and threw it in the microwave, topping it off with green and red frosting and snowflake sprinkles. Heaven and Luke look so proud of their creation and Jason is giggling to himself, obviously the ringleader and brains behind this whole operation. I try to control my temper, after all, it's too early and it's Christmas. Idris chuckles and lifts Luke up into his arms, careful not to get any icing on himself. He turns to Heaven and takes the plate from her, placing it on the counter.

"Those cookies are incredible, princess!" He says, causing all of the kids to smile. I shake my head gently and put on a smile. This was bound to happen at some point. They're kids and it's Christmas. And I can't be mad at them, they all look so proud of themselves.

"They're absolutely amazing, you guys. But..." I bend down to look Jason and Heaven in the eye. "Remember, you need to ask Mommy and Daddy if you can use the kitchen. It's not safe to do it by yourself. Okay?" They both smile and nod.

"Okay, Mommy, we'll make sure to ask next time," Jason says with a happy smile. I give them both a kiss and pat their backs.

"Now," Idris starts, "why don't you two clean up in here while I clean up your brother?" He says to our older kids. They frown a bit, groaning.

"Hey, none of that. You guys did a nice thing for Mommy and Daddy by making these pretty cookies, but you need to clean up after yourselves as well." I explain to them.

"Yes ma'am." They reply in unison. Jason grabs a broom from the closet and Heaven goes under the sink to find a sponge to clean the counters with, using her stepping stool to reach the mess. Before wiping the mess away, she drags her finger through the frosting and licks it, causing me to grimace as I watch her enjoy her work. I turn to Idris and he chuckles, before kissing my cheek.

"Be right back, love." He says, giving me a charming smile, before propping Luke up on his side. "Come here, buddy. We gotta get you cleaned off." He says as he walks up the stairs with our youngest.

I walk over to Heaven and help her wipe the counter, helping her put away the baking tray. She still tries to sneak some frosting, licking it off her fingers before wiping her hands on the kitchen towel. I shake my head at her and she giggles. Jason catches everything that was wiped off of the counter with the broom, sweeping it into the dustpan and trashing it.

"Okay, you two. You're doing such a great job at cleaning up, thank you." I say to them both, smiling down at them. "Once we're done here, how about we open some presents?" I suggest and they both cheer at the mention of presents.

"Let's open them now! Pleaseeee!" Heaven begs and I laugh to myself.

"No, we gotta wait until Dad's done cleaning up Luke, duh!" Jason says back to her, causing her to pout. She crosses her arms and frowns. I shake my head at them.

"Let's just finish cleaning up. I'm sure Daddy will be done by then and then we can start, okay?" I offer them a warm smile.

"Okay, Mommy," Heaven says, going back to cleaning. Idris soon returns with Luke following after him, in a new set of pajamas and looking squeaky clean.

"Yay! Daddy's here! Can we start now, Mommy?" She asks as she turns to me. I laugh a bit and nod.

"Yes, sweetie, we can start," I say and all three of the kids rush to the living room and sit on the floor around the tree. Idris grabs my hand and I smile at him as we both take our seats on the couch, his arm wrapping around my shoulder. Heaven spots a present with her name on it and squeals happily, turning to us with bright eyes.

"You ready to open, princess?" He asks and she nods rapidly, tearing the paper away. She gasps as underneath the wrapping paper is a black Barbie doll with a beautiful pink dress and sparkling shoes. She looks up at us with a grin, thrilled with her gift. Heaven jumps up and kisses me and her dad on the cheeks.

"Thank you, Mommy! Thank you, Daddy!" She says, hugging the gift close.

"You're welcome, baby," I say with a content smile.

"Take good care of her," Idris adds, smiling as well. Jason and Luke look at us with hopeful eyes, waiting for their turn. "Well, what are you guys waiting for? Jump in!" He says and the boys excitedly grab gifts of their own, ripping them open. Luke squeals happily as he gets a fire engine with colorful blocks that snap together and Jason gets a brand new Lego set.

The room is filled with the childish sounds of laughter and excitement as the kids open more Christmas gifts. Idris and I exchange glances, basking in the warmth of the joyous moment unfolding before us. The chaotic morning, filled with mishaps and messes, now seems like a distant memory, replaced by the pure happiness on our children's faces.

As the Christmas frenzy dies down, Idris turns to me with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He reaches under the tree and pulls out a beautifully wrapped box that was hidden at the back, topped off with a bow that sparkles like freshly fallen snow.

"For my beautiful wife," He says with a warm smile, handing me the gift. I look at him with surprise, not expecting this, but accepting the gift anyway. I grin as I carefully unwrap the present. Inside, I find a stunning necklace, a beautiful chain accompanied by a pendant shaped like a snowflake, glistening with tiny diamonds. I gasp, overwhelmed by the thoughtful gesture.

"Idris!" I cover my mouth in shock and his smile grows wider as he sees my reaction. "It's so beautiful!" I exclaim, my fingers gently tracing the intricate details of the pendant. Idris beams with satisfaction, his eyes never leaving mine.

"I saw it and I thought it would be perfect for you. Like each snowflake is unique, so is my love for you." Touched by his words, I lean in and press a tender kiss to his lips. The kids all collectively cringe at us.

"Ewwww!" They shout at our display of affection, but we don't let it stop us. He puts the necklace around my neck and I move my hair out of the way to show it better.

"How does it look?" I ask, doing a little pose. Idris chuckles and takes my hand, kissing it lightly.

"Perfect, just like you." He says, causing me to blush at his words. However, not being one to be outdone, I reach under the tree and hand Idris a carefully wrapped gift of his own.

"Darling, you shouldn't have." He winks playfully. He grins like a child, tearing the paper away with eagerness. Inside, he sees a brand new watch, something he's been eyeing for a while now. He inspects the watch closely, looking both pleased and surprised. "This is incredible, Y/N. I love it."

"And I made sure the band was in your exact size, so no need to get it fitted either," I add and he looks at me adoringly. He puts the watch on, giving it a thorough look over.

"Just in the nick of time." He smiles cheekily and I roll my eyes.

"You're so cheesy sometimes, you know that?" I laugh.

"Guilty as charged, my love." He grins sheepishly. He wraps his arm back around my shoulder and gives me a kiss. After taking a break from toys and getting some breakfast, everyone does their own thing. The kids are now playing, occupied with their own little world. The only sounds that fill the room are the laughter and joy of the kids, along with the quiet murmur of Idris and my voice as we chat and relax. It's a content and cozy day.

Idris and I are still on the couch, cuddled up and watching a Christmas movie under a blanket. Eventually, Jason comes and sits next to us and Luke climbs up on Idris's lap, leaning against him. Heaven sits on the other couch, still playing with the new accessories she got with her new doll.

Luke starts to yawn adorably and Idris kisses him playfully on the head, before yawning himself. He looks at me and I stretch, yawning as well. We look over at Jason, who's fast asleep with the TV remote in his hand. I yawn again and then glance over at Heaven, who is also asleep, her head resting against the back of the couch. I smile and lean my head on Idris's shoulder, wrapping the blanket around us. The house is filled with silence, except for the soft sound of the movie on the TV.

I close my eyes, letting the sounds of the movie fill my ears. Idris's arm wraps around my waist, pulling me closer to him, and with his other hand, he cradles Luke gently as he sleeps. With all the children peacefully snoozing, it's just me and him for this moment. It's calm, soothing and comfortable.

"I love you," Idris whispers, kissing my head softly. I smile and nuzzle into his neck.

"I love you too, sweetheart," I whisper back, before letting my eyes fall shut. I take in the warm and comfortable silence, not thinking about anything else besides the peaceful ambiance we seem to bask in right now. I know we should probably get up and put the kids in their rooms, but I don't want to disturb the peace. We've had a wonderful Christmas and I'm reminded, once again, how much I love my family.

#12 days of christmas #noirsfantasy #christmas #oneshot #fluff #black reader #black reader fluff #idris elba #idris elba x reader #black tumblr #black writers #black fem reader #family au #fine black men #black actors #black celebs #black romance #black men #family

30 notes · View notes

bellysoupset · 6 months

Text

"I'm not hungry," Lucas mumbled, as he slid in the backseat of the car that had been sent for them and Bella frowned.

She felt incredibly out of her depth. She could do caretaking, but she had no idea how to do emotional caretaking. Her family's unspoken policy with emotional troubles had always been "nothing a couple beers couldn't fix".

Luke was doing his best to show he was somewhat collected, but at least with her he wasn't bothering pretending and Bell was glad for that, she was happy he trusted her entirely... She just had no idea of how to fix it.

"I didn't ask if you were," she wrinkled her nose, pushing the bagel towards his mouth, "eat up."

Lucas groaned, but took the bagel, starting to tear it apart in his hands and force little, pathetic bites in his mouth. Bella looked up, catching the chauffeur glancing at them, but he quickly averted his gaze.

This was the salt in the wound, the fact that her husband was falling apart and yet here they were, in this farse, playing happy house with Kit Howard. Where there were drivers and Lucas felt the need to flash bright, horrible smiles whenever someone talked directly with him.

She watched from the corner of her eye as Luke gave up halfway through the bagel and instead just curled up against the door, staring at the changing scenario. They were supposed to have gotten there in the morning, but an emergency cuddle session had been needed, so they exchanged the tickets. It was amazing what the black card with A T W O O D stamped on it could get, Bella thought sourly, sliding closer to him.

"Hey, look at me," Bell cupped Luke's cheek and pressed her lips into a thin smile when she noticed his sad stare. He swallowed in, forcing up a tiny smile.

"I'm okay, Bell-"

"Don't," she shook her head, "don't lie to me. To everyone else, but not to me, okay?" she stroked his cheek, "let's make a decent holiday out of this, Luke. I know being here was the last thing we wanted and I know the timing isn't exactly good and that you're not feeling well, but... We can make a good thing out of a bad one, right?"

He nodded slowly, "at least we're not at Vince's," Lucas whispered, bitterly and Bella opened a surprised smile. She giggled, bumping her nose against his.

"Yeah, it would be hella awkward when I clawed his face off mid Christmas dinner."

"You'd never, you fucking love him," Luke rolled his eyes and Bella grinned at the playful tone, however weak it was.

"Oh, trust me, I can love the guy and still claw his fucking face off. Try me," she pressed a kiss over his lips, then pulled back and grabbed the ditched bagel on his lap, "finish it up."

"I'm full..."

"That's all you've had to eat today," Bella glared at him, "you're not full, babe. Now eat."

It was another twenty minutes as they entered his gated community and then Bella felt her stomach drop to her feet. Luke had prepared her for it. He had shown her pictures, a fucking Architecture Digest tour of his house - Kit grinning with those overly white smile of his -, but nothing could've prepared her for the sheer enormity of it all.

"God... This is sick," she whispered, gluing her nose to the car window and watching the mansion grow as it came closer. She tried to imagine Lucas, a little version of him, in that house, but couldn't. In fact, Bell couldn't imagine anyone living there, period.

"Your dad lives here all by himself?" she whispered, half amazed, half horrified and Luke shrugged.

"He's rarely home, he's always touring," he leaned closer, pressing a kiss to her shoulder, "some things don't change."

"So back then... It was just you and your mom...?" which someone made things worse, not better. One adult and a child in that haunted fucking mansion. It was a wonder that Luke was so well adjusted.

"Yeah," he pressed a kiss to her cheek, "and the staff."

"The staff," she wrinkled her nose. She was the staff, Bella knew it quite well. Her mother would be the staff, Bella herself, in another reality, "they don't count?" she raised her eyebrows, voice all bitter and Luke shook his head.

"Of course they do, I used to spend more time with them than with my own mother," he sighed, "dad fired everyone when she passed though, I don't know the new people well enough."

Reason number a hundred why Bella hated Kit Howard, she thought, squeezing Luke's hand as the car finally came to a stop.

She expected Kit to come out to greet them, but instead it was a chubby lady, with a friendly smile on and curly very blonde hair. She was a short little woman, half of Bell's size.

"Oh hi...?"

"Bella, this is Mary Ann," Lucas introduced them, "she runs everyone and everything in this house, dad included. Mary this Bella, my wife."

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Atwood."

Bella cringed, "nice to meet you too, but it's just Bella," she shook the woman's hand, then looked around awkwardly.

"Mr. Howard is in the studio," Mary said, to Luke, who let out a little sigh.

"Of course," he wrapped an arm around Bella's shoulders, "c'mon, let me show you around."

She half wished he hadn't shown her around. The house was a fucking mausoleum, as far as Bell was concerned. Unlike the Sicily house, that only had one picture of Veronica, this one was filled with them. Every wall Bella looked at, there was Luke's mom plastered, with a fake smile on.

It was no wonder he didn't visit, she thought, avoiding Veronica's judgy eyes and trying to make any sense of the floorplan. Not even halfway through, though, she gave up. The place was a maze.

"And here's my old room," he finished up the tour, falling backwards on the gigantic bed and Bella stopped at the door, looking around. There was only one picture of his mom, sitting on the fireplace mantle. Veronica, glaring at the camera, one blurry hand out trying to block it.

Bella felt like she could almost hear the woman's exasperated "Lucas!"

Besides that, there were books. So many books, shelves littering the walls. Two posters with football players she didn't recognize, a deep blue wall behind his bed, an abandoned PS4 console under the flat screen TV, one framed shirt that was signed.

"So?"

"Not messy enough to be yours," she said, then crossed the room to stand in front of him, "I'm surprised that I like it."

Luke wrapped his arms around her, leaning to rest his cheek on her chest, looking around, "it's not bad."

"Yeah, I was imagining something more... Kardashian," she teased him and could feel him grimace and scoff against her.

"Don't say that around dad unless you want a whole rant," he whispered, "c'mon, let's go say hi."

"...Your dad isn't home," she pulled back, "he's in the studio, you heard Mary."

"That's the basement level," Lucas stood up, running a hand through his hair and forcing a smile, "let me show you."

--------------------

"Has Luke shown you the tapes yet?" Kit asked, lazily sprawled on his big chair, while Lucas sat in front of him and Bella dug through a box filled with old vinyl's.

She hated that they had so many good ones.

"The tapes?" She said, at the same time Luke whined:

"Dad, noooo-"

"Oh yeah, the tapes," Kit sounded so smug, getting up and opening a big black cabinet across the studio. Bella turned her body so she could get a better view and noticed there were multiple black folders, with white labels, stacked side by side. At least twenty filling up the whole cabinet.

Kit grabbed the 5th one, unzipped it and then flipped through the pages where white CDs with black markings were slotted in. Bella raised her eyebrows, shocked by the sheer amount of music.

"Here," the older man slid a CD out, then fed it to his sound system, folding his hands behind his back, while Luke let out a groan.

The song was mellow, with just an acoustic guitar and a drummer far in the background. Bella frowned, looking at Lucas all puzzled, only to widen her eyes as the first lyrics started and a very familiar voice sung it.

Luke, except his voice wasn't as deep, much breathier.

"Is that you!?"

"He recorded it all on his own," Kit sounded so proud, "his mother wouldn't let me include it in the album, though, and Lucas refuses to let me release it now."

"It's embarrassing," Luke's face was all red, "I was thirteen."

"Can I get a copy of that?" Bella asked, smiling so much her cheeks hurt, "has Jonah heard it before?"

"NO," Lucas glared at her, and she wasn't sure which question he was answering, probably both.

"I'll get a copy done for you, Bella," Kit smiled at her and Bella felt her disdain for the man fade just a little bit. Not much, just a tad.

#okay this is NOT a sickfic #its just context i think its necessary for the rest of christmas #and i dont wanna waste time in an actual sickfic writing it #no ending just Thoughts #lucas atwood #isabella martinez #mywriting

31 notes · View notes

fancyfeathers · 7 months

Text

Society of Protection (Yandere Bungo Stray Dogs x reader x original characters) (normalized yandere au)

Chapter Eight

A Doll’s House

Prologue and oc intro

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter six

Chapter seven, part one

Chapter seven, part two

Tw: this chapter has mentioned of implied r*pe/noncon, please do NOT ask me to write that scene because I don’t feel comfortable doing it, it is mentioned purely to show the severity of a toxic relationship

Everyone sat in a stunned silence, it was like if static filled all your ears. All you can do is watch as Fitzgerald holds Miss Jane’s chin in his hand, staring at her. Then he retracts his hand, tucking them into his pockets, leaving Jane with a horrified look on her face. He walked around the room, looking it all over. “Beautiful place you have made for yourself, Zelda. How much did it cost? Ten million I would guess.” Miss Jane didn’t respond, to terrified to say a word. He gave a whistle before walking behind her and resting his hands on her shoulders, rubbing out the tense muscles like they were still married. “Have to hand it to you, it was nearly impossible to find you all here, records wise you have completely covered up your tracks.”

“H-how… how did you find us?” Miss Jane asked, her gaze fixed on the floor where the tea cup she dropped lays, broken in pieces. Fitzgerald chuckled as he pressed his fingers into her shoulder rather hard making her suck in a sharp breath.

“It wasn’t easy, but your biggest mistake was scheduling that meeting with whoever that government official was, those are in public records you know.” He gestured to a young man who had come in with him. “Luckily Mark’s shots never miss, even with tracking bullets.”

Both you, Gaston, and Dr. Stevenson had a shocked expression come across your faces. the red head who Fitzgerald had introduced as Mark comes up to your side and squatted down to your level, a smile on his face like absolutely nothing was wrong. “Sorry about that, I was aiming at your friend, I mean he has caused quite a few problems for us.” He laughed to himself before reaching up and pinching your cheek. “But hey don’t worry, I get to take care of you once we get y’all back to base.”

Your eyes widened in horror as Mark said that, and you looked over and so did Miss Jane’s. Almost on instinct she stood up, breaking free from Fitzgerald’s grip on her shoulders. She spun around, raising her hand and striking her ex husband across the face. Now a scowl had formed on her face, she was raging. “I don’t care what you do to me, but you will not touch them!”

The room sat in silence once more. Fitzgerald’s head was turned to one side from the force of the slap, a red hand print forming on his cheek. He turned his head back at Jane, his face no longer a smile. He reached a hand and grabbed the hand that rested on her chest, the same hand that slapped him. He yanked her over, almost pulling her over the chair she once sat in. So she was pulled up onto the chair so that she was on her knees in it, her chest against the back of it, and her face not to far below his and he bent down and grabbed her face again with his free hand. If looked could kill Jane would be dead. “I want you to listen to me, Zelda. After that stunt you pulled three years ago, I don’t care much for your opinion. I offered you a safe choice, but you refused so now we do this the hard way. John, if you’d please.”

The blond young man, the same from your shop stepped forward, he gave you a wink, which disgusted you. He took out a few seed from his pocket, seeds he bought from your old shop, then he took a hunting knife, stabbed himself in the neck and tucked the seeds in his neck. While he was doing this, Victor and Alexandre who knew his ability, went to reach for their guns, but right when they got them vines extended from his neck, reaching out and wrapping around their hands and guns, preventing them from doing anything. The vines reached out and also wrapped around Dr. Stevenson, and Gaston, leaving you and Jane the only ones untouched by them, you because you couldn’t run even if you tried and Jane because well… she’s Fitzgerald’s to deal with.

Everyone struggled but no one was able to break free, Dr. Stevenson couldn’t even activate her ability because she was already vulnerable and Alexandre couldn’t either because that would cause a bloodbath in here of both friend and foe alike. Jane’s eyes made contact with Gaston and she nodded and spoke not one word but they knew what each other were saying. With tears in his eyes Gaston took a breath and his body disappeared into the floor beneath him, like a ghost. The Guild and yourself were in shock and Miss Jane’s eyes went back to Fitzgerald. “Gaston’s ability, you’ll never catch him.”

Fitzgerald scowled and bit back. “Would you place money on that?”

“You know I hate gambling.”

—————————

Gaston was able to use his gift to go through the solid walls and ceiling of the building, down into the sewer system below Yokohama, it wasn’t hard to navigate, just like the catacombs under Paris, where he grew up. Paris, not the catacombs, but they were just a package deal. Gaston contacted the only two members of the Society that weren’t in the apartment at the time of the break in, Lewis Carroll and Henrik Ibsen, both of which were out on a mission together. Gaston told them of the harm that befell everyone and told him to meet them at the safe house. In true showmen fashion this safe house was a theater that Gaston purchased under the pen name, Erik. Now it was the three of them in private box five of the theater, discussing while rehearsals went on. Henrik looked absolutely terrified out of his mind while Lewis and Gaston discussed strategies for getting everyone out.

“I could activate my ability and whoever drank the potion would be effected.”

“Yes but we don’t know who has drank it or if it has been taken from their person. We also don’t know exactly where they are so we would have no idea where to get them.”

“We could use that government agent friend of yours, the one in the ministry of justice.”

“Mr. Tonan is a politician, not a fighter I’m afraid.”

“What about-“

“Um… excuse me…” Henrik spoke up in his timid little voice, hands folder on his lap, looking down, and trembling. “What if we use my ability?”

“…hm…” Lewis stared at his co worker with calculating eyes before tilting his head. “What’s your ability again?”

“You mean you forgot?! Lewis we’re on practically every mission together, we’re partners!” Henrik yelled at his co worker, embarrassed that he forgot about his ability. He sighs and leans in his chair. “It’s called Doll’s House. I can make a doll, and who ever I make it look like I can control, puppeteer. I can’t exactly control what they say or think but their limbs I can.”

“Wonderful! Where are you dolls?” Lewis asked with a grin. An awkward expression came across Henrik’s face and he sunk back into his chair and he nervously chuckled.

“My doll house is back in my apartment…”

“So we’re fucked.” Lewis groaned and leaned back as well. Gaston leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, a calculating look on his face, he looked at Henrik dead in the eye.

“Maybe you don’t need your doll house. I’ll make a call…” Gaston stood up and took out his phone, flipping it open and dialing up a number. “Let’s pray the Armed Detective Agency is willing to help.”

—————————

You all were taken up town, all in separate vehicles to keep all of you from getting ideas, you were being taken to a nice hotel where the Guild had set up a stationary base at, or that’s at least what Mark told you as he talked you ear off endlessly in order for you to try and warm up to him. You only saw Guild officers in the hall as Mark pushed your wheelchair down the hall of the penthouse the Guild had gotten. Behind the doors you could hear the frustrated yells of both Alexandre and Dr. Stevenson who were probably as you could imagine, doing what they could to make their capture’s life a living hell. You could then hear quiet crying from behind another door, Victor who was probably scared out of his mind. Then there was the door at the end of the hall where you didn’t hear anything from, but from earlier when you arrived on this floor you saw wisps of brown hair and long blue flows fabric get pulled in there, Miss Jane most likely.

So now you were laid down in bed, pillows behind your back so you could sit up and blankets drawn up on you. Your wheelchair was beside your bedside and Mark sat at your side, he had finally stopped talking once he had finally noticed your stubbornness not to do so. You two sort of just sat in silence for a long time before he sighed. “You know the boss is pretty upset at your friend right now, Mrs. Fitzger-“

“Her name is Jane Austen.” You cut him off, finally saying something.

“Whatever her name is, she really pissed him off. I’m advising you to stay out of the line of fire and just keep a cool head if he talks to you.” Mark said standing up, reaching over to adjust your pillows so you can lay down more comfortably since he noticed your yawns ad eyelids getting heavy.

“Easy for you to say when you and your friends weren’t kidnapped.”

Mark only sighed as he lowered your head back onto the pillows. “Look I’m trying to help you. Look just try to get some rest, I don’t know how long you all will be staying here, you’ll probably be taken somewhere soon seems like your friends are clawing like cats.”

Mark walked over the lights and dimmed them down for you. “I’ll leave you alone for now just… get some sleep.”

He opened the door and stepped out, closing it behind him, but not locking it, probably because he doesn’t think you could get to the door, taunting you almost.

—————————

Gaston’s phone call was answered by a rather annoying young man, a high pitched voice, but when Gaston told the young man his name he knew who he was, researched him most likely. When Gaston asked to speak to Dazai he was only told that Dazai was meeting with a government agent, but that the president himself would be happy to meet with them personally on what they need the only thing that they asked were files on the society’s members and answer questions they asked. They were given an address, a suspicious location, they would need to walk down a long rail line, they would be completely isolated any easy to pick off but at this point it was their only hope.

Gaston took the lead to keep Lewis and Henrik behind him, safe from immediate trouble. They walked down the rail line, looking long abandoned. Along the path they spotted cameras, or Gaston did at least. The long walk was silent and then at end of the hall, in front of a door, three men stood, one of them were familiar to Gaston, he was at that cafe with Dazai that day, Kunikida. The other two were strange to them, if you or Victor were there, you would recognize them as Ranpo and Fukuzawa, the president of the Armed Detective Agency.

“Are you armed?” Kunikida asked, his eyes narrowed at them. Gaston reached in his coat pocket and pulled out his revolver, an old gun, he took the six rounds out and held it in his other hand. Kunikida looks over to the president and he nods his head. Kunikida walks forward and takes the revolver Gaston gave him, along with a gun from Lewis and then a knife from Henrik. “I apologize but this is a safety precaution.”

“I understand, but I would like that back when this is over, that was my grandfather’s.” Gaston said as Kunikida tucked their weapons away.

“We will see Mr. Leroux, if you do good by us, we will do good by you. You have my word.” The president said, still no emotion on his face. Fukuzawa turned from them and opened the door behind him. “We’ll talk inside.”

They followed behind the president, it was almost like a college lecture hall they stepped into, wooden mostly. There were also three other figures there, a young man, teenager maybe, blond, overalls and a straw hat, another a woman, dark hair, and butterfly clip were her most prominent features, and the last s red head but he didn’t have many defining features about him, but they seemed busy in their own conversation, but kept an ear open on the conversation that was about to happen. They were lead to the front of the hall and sat down, all except the president, he stood in front of them. He looked down at the three society members, all that is left now. Gaston reached into his bag, a leather satchel, and pulled out a stack of files, each labeled with a different name, Jane Austen, Dr. R.L. Stevenson, Victor Hugo, Alexandre Dumas, Gaston Leroux, William Shakespeare, Emma Orczy, Lewis Carroll, Henrik Ibsen, and one on you. “Straight from one of the Society’s archives. You’ll find almost everything on everyone in the society.”

“Almost everything?” Fukuzawa asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Well sometimes we each have our own dark secrets that we make sure never surface. Secrets that are best left forgotten, even by ourselves.” Gaston answered. Fukuzawa’s eyes narrowed at this statement but brushed it aside, for now anyway, he would come back to it later.

“Now what is it you exactly want? I doubt it is anything small considering how easily you all handed over your weapons.” Fukuzawa asked.

“You sure are sharp Mr. Fukuzawa.” Gaston chuckled and nodded before his expression became completely serious suddenly. “Members of our society have been captured by the Guild, because we refused a deal with them. We want to get them back.”

“You want us to break in to a Guild base?” Fukuzawa asked, showing shock on his face for the first time in this conversation.

“No, we simply need to borrow one of yours’ ability because we cannot go back to our home base to get what we need.” Gaston shook his head to the president’s question and pointed a finger right at a slightly surprised Kunikida. “We just need to borrow his ability.”

—————————

You were able to get somewhat of a nap in, the pain in your leg was quite a lot to deal with. When you awoke you didn’t see Mark at your bedside like before, now it was a much more familiar and more unwelcome face of John. He smelled at you when he noticed you were awake. “Good morning, sleeping beauty.”

You scowled and wanted to roll onto your side if it wasn’t for your damned leg. He saw this and sighed. “Don’t like me anymore huh?”

“Not in the slightest.” You said, speaking through gritted teeth.

He drugged and stood up. “Well I suppose you see us as the bad guys, you wouldn’t be the first but honestly you aren’t suited for society work, you should have just stayed in your flower shop. You were quite adorable there. Your old boss is quite worried about you, I stopped by there while you were sleeping and she was worried to but about you.”

Your eyes widened in hour as you heard those words and you honestly thought the worst happened. “What did you do to her?”

He sighed and shook his head. “Nothing, she’ll be quiet alright. For now anyway, she’s probably closing up shop and heading home now anyway.” You sighed in relief as you heard this but that was quickly replaced by pain once again as John went to pick you up and place you in your wheelchair. “Now, your boss has somehow convinced Mr. Fitzgerald to let her speak to you.”

When he said this your heart skipped a beat in either joy of fear as he pushed your wheelchair down the hall towards what must be Fitzgerald’s room that Jane was dragged into. As you were fist rolled inside it was giant, like a whole other house, it was probably double the size of Miss Jane’s already huge apartment. On the couch was Miss Jane, hair down, a white silk robe and a blue silk night gown, she held a cup of tea in her hands and her blindly stared down at the hot liquid as behind her Fitzgerald stood, leaning against the couch, one hand playing with Miss Jane’s hair the other holding a stack of written papers. Fitzgerald and Jane both heard the door open and they both looked up to you the two of you entering. Fitzgerald smiled and tucked his arm with the papers at his side. “Ah you must be Miss (Name), John has been telling me and other Guild members all about you. You worked at a flower shop before working for my Zelda, must have taken such a risk, hm?”

“I like working for Miss Jane, it gives me purpose again.” You said, completely disregarding the name he used for her, this made Miss Jane smile and Fitzgerald sigh.

“I see, I suppose she must have been paying you well then, wouldn’t surprise me that my wife would.” He spoke as he walked over to a nearby chair and grabbed a jacket that rested on it and began to put it one.

“Respectfully sir, I don’t give a damn about the money, I could be paid nothing and I would still do this,because the society was made to do the right thing.” You spoke as you were rolled up right next to Miss Jane. Fitzgerald looked over his shoulder at the two of you, right at the smirk on your face and the smile on Miss Jane’s.

“I see…” something about his look seemed dangerous and he turned and walked over to Jane, leaning down and kissing her on the head. “I have to go run an errand, I love you, I’ll be back soon.”

With a look to John the other blond man followed behind leaving the two of you alone in the room. The moment the door shit, Miss Jane looked at you with her best smile. You looked over her body and you came to a quick realization due to the bruises forming on her collarbone, neck, and most prominently on her wrists… did Fitzgerald… oh god…

She noticed your realization and she looked away, almost in shame. She spoke, a single tear falling down her cheek. “I-It only hurt when I fought back… when I relaxed… he was gentle, like when we were still married.”

A look of horror came across your face when you said this, somehow this was a million times more painful than your bullet wound. “Miss Jane… I-I’m sorry… is there anything I can do?”

She sat in silence for a long minute, maybe almost five judging by the ticking on a nearby clock before nodding. “No matter what happens, don’t call me by my old name, my name is the only dignity I have left.”

You nodded in understanding and then the door swung open once more, this time it was definitely more welcome faces, Dr. Stevenson, Alexandre, and Victor, along with the even more welcome faces of Emma and William who must have also been moved here from the luxury liner. They all looked out of breath and there was yelling in the hall and then Miss Jane came to a realization. “Is it Henrik’s ability?”

Dr. Stevenson nodded and Alexandre rushed over to you, the strongest member here, and picked you up like bride in his arms. You all rushed back into the hall and saw all the guards pinned to the ground almost by and invisible force. The unconscious bodies of Margaret Mitchell and Nathaniel Hawthorne were also there, those two specifically looked like they have been tossed around like a chew toy. Miss Jane chuckled at this and looked at Emma and William who were hand in hand as they ran like lovers running off from their wedding. “Seems like Henrik found he least favorite doll to play with.”

—————————

You all found yourself here soon at the safe house of the Armed Detective Agency. You were all able to get changed who needed it, Miss Jane, Emma, and William, back into their usual attire and in Emma’s words, “When I get back to my apartment I am burning that dress Nathaniel put me in, it belongs in hell.” You on the other hand got to pay a visit to the doctor of the agency… best if we just skip past that bit.

So now here you all are sitting in the underground hide out of the Armed Detective Agency, some of you made small talk with who knew each other. Yo saw Alexandre talking to two men, you learned their names as Kunikida and Junichiro, apparently they met on their last missions. You rested your head on Victor’s shoulder as he talked to Ranpo and young blond boy named, Kenji, seemed like a sweet kid. Dr. Stevenson was talking to the agency doctor who was able to heal your leg completely, Dr. Yosano, those two seemed to get along splendidly based on their laughter and chatter with one another. Emma and William were off somewhere doing their own thing, you don’t blame them, they were separated after all and may just need sometime to sit and be. Lewis and Henrik were napping in a corner, Lewis’s large sweater draped over the both of them like a huge blanket, honestly you wondered if they were just friends. Gaston stood in the corner, all alone, it seemed like he had some weight on his mind at the moment that he needed to process right now. As for the leaders of your organization, Miss Jane was at least wearing a mask of her happy self and she talked to President Fukuzawa, thanking him for the agency’s assistance, you couldn’t hear most of their conversations, but you could tell that by the sound of their voices that they got along well enough.

You closed your eyes as you began to drift off on Victor’s shoulder and thought, maybe things are taking a turn for the best now, but only time could tell what horrors lay ahead of you, but at least now you were all together to deal with what came next.

#yandere bungo stray dogs x reader #yandere bungou stray dogs #yandere bsd #original character x reader #bungou stray dogs oc #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #yandere dazai #yandere chuuya #yandere mark twain #yandere mori ougai #yandere Fukuzawa #Yandere Edgar Allan Poe #Yandere John Steinbeck #yandere fyodor

33 notes · View notes

ladybellissima · 8 months

Text

Finding Love Katakuri x Reader Part 9

Standing before his mother, who was stuffing her face with cake, Katakuri listened patiently what his duties were. For Big mom it was very important to have Katakuri by her side. With his strength and loyalty she could trust him to get what she wanted.

"Keep an eye on Pudding. When she kills her husband Sanji, you and the others destroy Germa 66. I don't accept a failure. Bege will make sure to get their weapons. I put him in charge of the safety. ", she spoke happily.

"Yes mama as you wish."

"Good my son. Now then, till the wedding day.", she sang and waved him goodbye. Nodding Katakuri turned back and left. Step after step he felt unsure of what to do. He didn't really pay much attention to the whole conversation, because his mind was focused on his wife. Pudding's wedding was compared to his private life a piece of cake.

Should he try to speak with her? Or maybe just use his authority against her and order something so she wasn't able to refuse being with him?

Pathetic…

So how should he apologize? Sighing he felt completely lost.

Shaking his head he decided to just stay in his room like he used to. Like he always did. Alone. It was easier than dealing with these confused emotions, but Pudding's words gave him a fluttering feeling in his chest. "She was smiling after talking about me…? How on earth could she be happy about being with me… ", he sighed. He had to give her time. Much time to start from the beginning.

"Big brother …..! Katakuri!", Oven rushed to his side with an horrified expression on his face. Seeing the future he gasp after getting an image of his screaming wife. Grabbing Oven by his jacket he pulled him closer with an angered "Speak!".

Oven pushed himself back, while breathing heavily. "I got an emergency call from one of your servants. Thank God I was at my office. Some bandits invaded your island and took (Y/N) with them.."

Pushing his brother out of the way Katakuri rushed past him and headed to his ship. Oven ran after him for help.

" (Y/N)….. (Y/N)… God damn it. ", he growled frustrated. The image of her screaming and struggling was haunting his mind. What are they going to do with her? Torture her? Rape her? Sell her? Every option let his blood boil and mind go crazy.

"I swear if they touch her I won't only kill them…", he growled.

Seeing his island in the distance he used his devil fruit ability to grab a tree with his mochi hands and pulled himself towards his land to make things faster.

Garbage and footprints showed him the way of destruction and ended in front of his home. The door was open and blood painted his steps. Rushing inside he reached (Y/N) 's room, which was empty and seemed untouched. Only his own creation of the broken table showed some violence. At his office the smell of blood became worse. Whimpering was heard and quickly he stepped inside to find a servant laying in his blood with his snail transponder by his side.

"who was that! Tell me", he growled pissed.

"Master Katakuri…. I don't know. It all happened so fast. After they shot me, I was able to crawl into your office to get you.", he whispered exhausted.

"They took Lady (Y/N)…. Please find her Master. Bring her back.", he whispered and Katakuri kneeled down beside him.

"You don't have to tell me that. They will plead for death, after I am finished with them.", he spoke seriously and got back up.

" Hell brother.. Damn it, your house is a disaster.", Oven spoke shocked. Pissed Katakuri walked out and followed the trail of blood, till he reached the kitchen. Servants of Oven's ship were already helping the injured.

"Nobody died but they are all badly injured.", one servant told him exhausted. Katakuri searched for any signs or traces and stopped at the sight of baskets with familiar looking doughnuts.

"She… made the doughnuts for Mama..", he thought shocked, while a small basket with a note took his attention. Taking the card in his hands they started to shake after reading the words of his wife.

"Does anyone have information who attacked?", Katakuri growled frustrated and looked down to the injured cooks. Nodding fearfully the head cook started to explain.

"Master Katakuri. They were clothed completely in black and looked like bandits. There was no pirate symbol on their body. Lady (Y/N) was baking and they thought she was a maid. We wanted to help her.. We told them that she is your wife, but they didn't believe it.", they all cried bitterly.

"No one believes it. It is unfortunate.", he whispered to himself and headed outside deep in thought.

"Black clothed people…no pirates.. Sure i have met them after they passed our territory.", Katakuri thought back to the past meetings he had with his mother. He only remembered one group of black clothed people, because their captain wore a ridiculous hat with the words no mercy on it and looked like he could be killed just with the gash of wind of a shooting jelly bean. What a bunch of dumbasses.

" The black bandits… ", he whispered pissed and remembered how angered they were after his mother declined their offer. She even said that killing them would be unnecessary waste of energy.

"Did you find anything?", Oven asked nervously and sat down on his steps. "Yeah this was the cause of the black bandits, which Mama denied to work with a few weeks ago. They were a bunch of idiots.", Katakuri explained angered.

"But they were able to invade your island and took (Y/N).", Oven spoke only to get a furious look of his brother.

"Nobody died. Only idiots would make such a bad work to leave survivers, who could give us informations.", Katakuri's brother nodded impressed of his words.

"We should be happy that they are so dumb. So we know now where your wife is. I hope for them they are prepared to die. Unbelievable that they really dare to do this.. Hopefully your wife isn't hurt. ",his brother sighed exhausted and shut his mouth quickly after sensing the deadly aura around Katakuri.

"Oven, Mama awaits a basket of (Y/N) 's doughnuts. Go to the kitchen and deliver them. Also she shouldn't know that (Y/N) was taken. I don't want that she gets in any trouble of leaving the island, even if she was kidnapped.", he ordered and headed towards his ship. Quickly Oven ran after him to stop him.

"Big brother! Are you really leaving now to look for her?! what about the wedding. You have only 3 days. You know what happens if you don't come! Or if Mama wants to see you. I know it's hard, but think of Mama… "

Katakuri grabbed his brother roughly by his neck and pulled him closer.

"She also has to attend the wedding.. (Y/N) is in danger. I will go and get her now. You will deal with it."

Oven gulped nervously and could see the murderous glint in his eyes. There was no way to stop him and to be honest Oven didn't want to either. (Y/N) was helping his brother in so many ways and hopefully, after everything that happened, he hoped that she would still stay by his side with that breathtaking smile. Letting Oven go Katakuri started to leave.

"I am sorry brother. I am just worried about you… And don't think (Y/N) isn't important to me. I like her a lot. She is part of us. I will have your back till you come.", Oven shouted and started to fulfill his brother's orders. Stepping into the kitchen he took the baskets for his mother.

"What beautiful desserts…", he thought with awe and found a small basket hidden at the back. Noticing a small note he took a closer look to read it.

"You are too good to be true… I hope he will find you and I hope that someday you will be happy with him…", he whispered and put the basket back.

The note still in his hands he smiled down to the sweet handwriting of this beautiful girl and read it once again. It was just a simple text, but meant so much. She still gave her best. She still didn't give up. He was impressed by her willpower.

xxx

"I heard you left early for your mother. Your merienda already past so I made these for you. Have a nice day…. Your wife, (Y/N)"

xxx

Katakuri was deep in thought, while the cold sea breeze blew into his face. He couldn't imagine that she was taken away from him so easily. From one moment to another she was gone and maybe forever, if they were that quick to pass his mother's territory. He always thought that she would run away someday, because of having him as her husband. But in a way there was always the safe feeling behind these worries that she was forced to stay. Now standing here and feel how it was to loose her, made him awfully sad. There was only one time feeling this way in his life. As he was a child, his sister Brulee got hurt because of him. Because of his face. Because of his weakness in protecting her.

Because he was a monster…

" (Y/N)… I need you.. "

xxx

On the other side, a young girl was leaning against the moldy wood, locked away under the deck of the bandit's ship. Her clothes were torn and the dirt glued on her like a second skin. The darkness didn't give her any clue what time it was. The air was thick and smelling awful. Exhausted she felt a starting headache coming. Closing her eyes she just wished to be with her family again. Images of her laughing parents popped up in her mind or the baking with her grandmother, but then Katakuri appeared and tears rolled down her face. She didn't want to see him. Not now.. Not in her condition. Shaking her head she tried, but failed miserably.

"as my wife you are under my protection…"

"don't worry this room belongs to you.."

"We won't eat together ever…"

"Thank you for the doughnuts. They were amazing.."

"I… I said if you want we can look into shops that you like…"

"You are under me! You do as I say!"

All his words echoed in her mind and let her sob uncontrollably.

"It hurts so much….", she cried out and hid her face in her hands. Why did she have those feelings? Why was he haunting her mind? Frustrated she gave in and brushed her tears away. She knew why. The whole time she knew it.

"Because deep inside I knew that he has a heart..that he protects me.. And that he tried… He tried so hard to get out of his comfort zone… And I like this side of him so much…", she whispered with a weak smile.

"even if it is buried and hidden in this cold expression of yours."

Looking down to her bruised legs she sighed deeply.

"But it seems that it isn't important anymore…there are bigger things on your duty list than coming for your little toy. I left the island, broke another rule, so my life is in your hands now."

"Right Katakuri?"

#romance #fanfiction #karakuricharlotte #katakuri x reader #one piece

37 notes · View notes