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quietwingsinthesky · 9 months

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this gentle life of ours

(Other Links: Dreamwidth - FFNet - Pillowfort - Squidgeworld)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: N/A Fandom: Supernatural Ship: Midafer Additional Tags: Mpreg, Pregnant Lucifer (Supernatural), Pregnant Michael (Supernatural), Domestic Fluff, Light Angst, Alternate Universe Wordcount: 3039 Summary:

Getting Michael pregnant is an accident. Lucifer? Not as much. Or, Adam and his two pregnant archangel house spouses <3

Notes:

Now this is for @nugget-of-joy, who gave me a prompt, yes, but made it a submission aksljdalskjd. but i forgive her and give her 3000-ish words. the original prompt was "Midafer with both angels being knocked up 👀 thoughts?" and my thoughts were Yes :)

Lucifer has been staying with them a few weeks by the time Michael starts to show.

Michael was the one who dragged him home. Adam doesn’t have the full story, only that one day it’s just him and Michael in the house and the next, their guest room is the devil’s new home. Of course he’s curious, but so far, he’s pretty sure he and Michael have carved out a life for themselves by virtue of no one noticing they got out of the Cage. Bringing Lucifer in jeopardizes that, sure, but trying to figure out where he was before Michael found him is asking for trouble that Adam, frankly, doesn’t need to deal with.

For the first few days, he didn’t even see Lucifer. Michael spent most of his time with him. The ability to be jealous was burnt out of Adam a few hundred years ago in Hell. It would require him to believe Michael would ever leave, and that’s not just unlikely, it’s laughable. Lucifer started leaving his room after that beginning lull. He was quiet. Adam might call him jumpy, even paranoid. It was something in his eyes. A hunted look. Pity came first and easiest, but compassion? That was harder to summon up for him.

Not until Michael was gone one day, and Lucifer was freaking out about something he refused to explain to Adam, and Adam had to tug him over to the couch to lay on top of him like his own personal weighted blanket. Lucifer melted where he was pinned under Adam. They stayed like that until Michael came back, far better equipped to help Lucifer than Adam was.

After that, he began to fit into their lives in places Adam hadn’t known were empty. Lucifer cuddled between them in bed and eating dinner at their table and sleeping in their bed. Michael takes brotherly love to a whole other level, and Lucifer soaks it up like he’s starved for it. Adam can't help falling in love with him, too. Especially as Lucifer begins to relax a little more, trust that he and Michael aren't about to throw him out. He learns to cook, he builds himself a garden, and he pouts for attention when he feels he hasn't gotten enough for the day.

And then, Michael is pregnant.

There really is no other outcome for him and Adam never using protection. Adam had assumed that Michael, being an archangel and powerful enough that he dragged them both out of the deepest part of Hell by pure stubbornness, was able to keep himself from being knocked up. Adam was wrong. He’s not that upset about it. Having a kid is terrifying, having one with Michael even more so, but at the same time, he thinks about their little terror running underfoot one day and finds himself smiling without meaning to. (He even thinks about their kid growing up with Lucifer still around, and… he likes it. This is their home, this is their life, and Lucifer is going to be a part of all of it.)

Michael's belly grows, the curve of it undeniably pushing on every shirt he wears. Adam’s a little obsessed. Michael will let him put his hands over the bump while he tells him what’s going on underneath. It’s too early to feel any kicking, but Adam can’t seem to pull himself away. That’s Michael’s baby. That’s his baby.

As his computer tabs fill up with searches about baby food and cribs, he begins to notice Lucifer watching them. He hovers in the doorway while Michael and Adam are debating which color to paint the new nursery. (Michael says it should be dark since the point of the room is to put the baby to sleep; Adam says it should be something brighter because they've had seen dark places in their lives.) He doesn't say a word when he sees Adam babyproofing the house (something Michael has told him again and again isn't necessary, as though an unprotected electric socket or a stray bottle of detergent could actually harm their child, but it's about the principle of the thing) but he does follow him from room to room. He pretends to be doing something else whenever Adam glances over at him, but he's not being particularly subtle. It's the first time Adam starts to have doubts about him being around their kid. They'll be half Michael's, half angel, but that other half of them will still be human. Adam's pretty sure that Lucifer's opinions on humanity haven't shifted much since the Apocalypse. (If anything, they've soured more since he's seen what humans have done to the world he loves. It's a touchy subject, and therefore, banned from the dinner table.)

It hurts more than Adam expected it would to think that Lucifer won't love their child as much as he and Michael will.

The morning after those thoughts begin to stew in his head is a pretty one. Almost clear skies with wisps of cloud that let the sun stream down through their windows. By the time Adam is awake, his bed has long been abandoned by his archangels. (The night before, Lucifer had still come to sleep with them, but for the first time, he'd slept with his back to both of them. Michael had noticed, but he hadn't said anything, only fallen asleep with his frown pulled tight.) Adam drags himself reluctantly from his bed to the kitchen. He can't hear coffee brewing, but Michael hasn't been able to stand the smell for the past week and Adam will do anything to make him more comfortable, even if his caffeine-addicted brain hates his guts for it. At least Michael's there for him to wrap himself around, face buried in the crook of his neck where he's warm and soft. Adam's hands sneak around his middle to caress his belly.

"Good morning," Michael says. Adam grunts an interim response while he wakes up enough to make words. Being near Michael is helping. He smells nice.

"Morning," Adam finally manages, and he lets Michael turn around in his arms so that he can kneel down and press a kiss to his baby bump. "Good morning to you, too."

"You know that they can't hear you yet, right?" Michael asks, spoiling Adam's fun. Adam ignores him.

"You be good to your dad today, huh? He's grumpy enough already." Michael huffs, and Adam smiles up at him. He rises to kiss Michael, wiping away any hint of annoyance. Adam rests his forehead against Michael's when the kiss breaks. He misses having Michael possess him, but Michael needs to keep their baby safe and the idea of being pregnant himself makes Adam extremely dysphoric. It's different when it's Michael, even in a body that mirrors his own. Michael is so happy with parts of Adam that used to make him feel sick that he sees them in a new light, and even his own memories of living in a body closer to how Michael keeps it are no longer as painful. Besides, and Adam can admit this without any shame, Michael looks hot carrying his kid.

It's Michael who tilts his head away from Adam to look behind him. Adam follows his gaze, glancing back over his shoulder as Michael asks, "Lucifer?"

Lucifer winces when Michael says his name. He looks immediately like he wants to be anywhere but there, watching the two of them talk about their child. He turns his gaze down to the floor and refuses to look up again.

"This isn't going to work," Adam says. "You can't stalk us around the house like this. What's so wrong about Michael having a kid that you can't even look at him?" Michael makes a noise, quiet and hurt, and Adam realizes he hadn't even put the pieces together about why Lucifer was acting weird. He hates that he had to be the one to bring it to light, but if they don't take care of it now, he can see it snowballing into a serious disaster. They've built something together, and Adam isn't about to give it up.

"I never said anything about that," Lucifer answers. He speaks very softly. Adam's never heard him raise his voice in the entire time he's been living with them. (He'd been expecting it. Arguments between him and Michael, day in and day out, only slightly better than the Cage because the insults wouldn't echo for a hundred years afterwards and cut just as deep. Instead, even as he feels more safe around them, Lucifer is still quiet. It's like something out there had fun breaking him, and no one had bothered to pick up the pieces before Michael brought him home.)

"Then stop acting"—Adam gestures at him, frustrated—"like that. Like the whole world is going to end because of a baby." Lucifer still won't look at them.

"Is that what this is about?" Michael asks. "Lucifer, our child-"

"Your child," Lucifer corrects. "Adam didn't give them to me. He gave them to you." Adam blinks. Finally, Lucifer glances up at them.

What's on Lucifer's face isn't disgust. It's longing.

"Are you jealous?" Adam asks in disbelief.

"Is that so hard to believe?" Lucifer's voice hardens for the first time Adam's heard in a long time. He turns his accusations onto Michael, ignoring Adam's surprise. "You knew we could create life? That I could-" There's a choke that cuts off his words, and silence, and quietly again, "You knew it would come out wrong if I did it, didn't you? That's why you weren't going to tell me." Lucifer was terrifying, once. Adam's sure he could be again, if he wanted to. He stands at the threshold of the kitchen, shoulders slumped, and looks as though he's been kicked until he won't get up again. "It would be like me." The resignation in his voice is so heavy, even Adam feels weighed down by it.

"Wait," he says, buying himself time to process all of that, "wait, you- You're mad at Michael because he's having a baby and you aren't?"

Adam's life was supposed to have reached the point at which it couldn't get more surreal a few years ago.

Lucifer doesn’t answer him.

They have a big nursery. Room enough to fit two cribs, side to side.

Adam takes a step away from Michael. He feels Michael’s fingers trail down his arm as he moves, but he’s not going anywhere. Only far enough to hold Lucifer’s hand and draw him further into the room. He shouldn’t be standing on the sidelines anymore. He belongs here.

“If you want a baby that bad, you could just ask,” he says.

”Michael already-“

”We can have more than one baby,” Adam explains, purposefully slow so that Lucifer will get annoyed with him and pull his energy away from being upset. It works.

”I didn’t tell you because I had no idea you wanted it,” Michael cuts in. “Brother, any child of yours would be a blessing, not a curse.” Michael lifts a hand to cup Lucifer’s cheek as Adam squeezes his hand. He can hear the words unspoken, and neither are you, and hopes Lucifer can, too. Though, if he still can’t, if he doesn’t believe Michael, then they have plenty of time to prove it to him. Starting with this.

“Then, you’ll let me have a baby?” Hope is such a rare thing to hear in Lucifer’s voice. Adam grins.

”Only if you’re okay with changing diapers.” Lucifer does make a face at that, but it melts away as he realizes he can get exactly what he wants. He squeezes Adam’s hand back.

He waits a moment, and then says, “Has it happened yet?”

Adam and Michael stare at him. Lucifer stares back, unbothered.

“We haven’t…” Adam trails off. It occurs to him that he’s never had sex with Lucifer, and Michael has never mentioned having sex with Lucifer, and between the Cage and the Apocalypse, Adam doubts he had time to get down and dirty with the demons or humans he equally despised. Which means that Adam has to ask a very important question. “You do know how babies are made, right?”

“Human ones. I’m not human.” Adam looks at Michael.

“We’re in human vessels,” Michael says.

It takes Lucifer a minute of frowning to figure out what they mean. When he’s done, Adam swears he can see his cheeks flush.

“I haven’t done that before,” he admits.

The devil is a virgin. He’s asking Adam to deflower and knock him up all at once. It’s a lot for Adam to handle. His dick happily disagrees. This is exactly what it wants to handle.

There’s only one way to take care of him. Adam grips Lucifer’s hand in one of his and takes Michael’s with the other, and he leads both of them to their bedroom to finally make better use of their king-sized mattress.

----

By the time Lucifer’s baby bump is showing, Michael’s has grown huge, and Adam is in (exhausting) Heaven.

Their bedroom has become a nest where he swears more pillows are added every day. Being pregnant drains a lot of Lucifer and Michael’s energy, which they aren’t used to at all, leading to situations where they tire themselves out using more grace than they should and Adam has to haul them to bed or the couch to lay down for a minute. Michael gets cravings for foods that have gone extinct, and because of that, Lucifer’s garden is now crowded with several impossible plants bearing fruits that haven’t grown on Earth in hundreds of years. Adam keeps seeing toys at the store and buying them, even though it’ll still be a few months before the babies are born and longer before they’ll be able to appreciate stuffed animals.

Here, in their secret corner of the world, the future is starting to look a lot brighter.

(Adam’s not fooling himself, though. He knows this won’t be easy. He’s heard Michael and Lucifer whispering to each other about how much harder it’ll get to hide their children once they’re older. Adam hasn’t even met either of them yet, but he’ll fight off the whole world, Heaven and Hell included, if he has to to protect them. Though, maybe he’d be better suited to holding the babies while Michael and Lucifer take care of all that that.)

He’s rubbing lotion into Lucifer’s skin, the kind that brags it can ease stretchmarks, which Lucifer doesn’t really understand (He loves the few that he has. Adam’s seen him admiring them, pleased by the changes in his vessel.) but lets Adam do anyway because he loves being pampered. He’s almost purring under Adam’s touch, leaning back against his Michael’s side with his eyes shut.

Michael looks tired. He’s more prone to overextending himself than Lucifer is. Months of a baby nephil draining his grace haven’t taught him to take better care of himself, but that’s why Adam’s here. He can give Michael a massage once he’s done with Lucifer.

”We’ll raise them as brothers, right?” Lucifer asks. Adam drops a kiss to his navel. Michael’s belly button popped out a week ago, yet another difference between Adam’s body and the one Michael inhabits that was based off of his. Michael doesn’t answer long enough for Lucifer to open his eyes and glance up at him. Michael smiles.

“Brother and sister, actually,” he corrects. Adam looks up from kissing Lucifer’s belly. Lucifer blinks, and then he looks even more excited than he did before.

”You’re having a girl?” Adam asks. Michael nods. Adam feels his chest pull tight. They haven’t even discussed names yet, but he’s been thinking, of course he’s been thinking, and Kate would be a lovely name for a baby girl, and- He takes a deep breath to calm his racing thoughts. “That’s amazing,” he says. They have all the time in the world to sort that out.

“I love her,” Lucifer says. “I love both of them. They’re ours, Michael, we made them.” Lucifer’s voice gets soft, almost giddy, whenever he brings that up. It means the world to him that he can create this new life, that it will be beautiful and all theirs to take care of.

”What, not mine too?” Adam teases, though he knows Lucifer doesn’t mean it like that. Humans make babies all the time. Angels? Not so much. Still, Lucifer turns to look at him, still grinning.

“And yours,” he agrees. "These ones and the next few-“

“Next few?” That’s the first Adam’s hearing of that.

“We can’t just have two. They’ll get lonely. We need at least four.” That tugs on Adam’s heartstrings a little, but not enough for him to agree to that just yet.

“Let’s see how well we handle having these two first. Then we’ll see about having more.” Lucifer huffs, but he doesn’t argue. His hand splays over his belly. Adam covers it.

“How hard could it be to raise two children?” Michael asks, with the doubt of someone who was left in charge of hundreds of little angels and thinks that any of those skills he acquired leading Heaven are going to translate neatly over to snacktime and putting them down for naps.

“We’ll see how you still feel once she’s able to cry,” Adam says. Michael does not seem convinced this is going to be a challenge. He’s going to eat those words, Adam’s sure, but they’ll get through it together. “Hey, how do your ankles feel?” Michael tips his head down, realizes he can’t see them past his belly, and props them up on the coffee table. Adam clicks his tongue. “I told you to stay off you’re feet or they’ll swell up worse.”

“I’m not going to sit here and make you take care of everything,” Michael says as Adam slides off the couch and onto his knees, bringing Michael’s foot into his lap. He gently massages the swollen area.

”Why not? I would,” Lucifer says, sleepily. Michael sighs, but it rolls into one of relief as Adam rubs his foot.

Adam smiles to himself. They’re going to handle this just fine together.

#fic: midafer #fic: spn #fanfiction #prompt fic #fic: michael spn #fic: adam milligan #fic: lucifer spn #this fic. this fic. it had like five false starts do you know that?#one was an outside pov of tfw walking in on adam with his pregnant angel house spouses and the chaos that would come from that #and then two of them started with lucifer being pregnant first #and even this version i ended up cutting the smut scene from because uh. well a) i am still sick and writing this much was surprisingly har #(hate that hate that hate that i want my normal writing energy back)#and b) i felt it worked better like this. the focus more on them being pregnant than on the making the baby part.#i mean unless there's a ton of interest in seeing them make that baby if u know what i mean askjdalksjd #anyway! i hope this came out good and you like it!#(im gonna upload this to ao3 too as soon as i come up with a title. and tags.)#also i sprinkled in trans!adam. <3 pros of giving me promtps is sometimes i will just make the characters trans.#fic: pregnant!michael #fic: pregnant!lucifer #fic: angelcest

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localemofreak · 30 days

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Don’t forget people!!!

‼️Michael is NOT meant to be a good person‼️

so it’s prob best we don’t simp over the character…

Joseph Quinn in Hoard?? Yes 100%- but Michael?? Idk..

Not judging, not trying to put down anybody- but just thought it might be a nice little reminder :) 👏

#joe quinn #joseph quinn #localemofreak #michael hoard #hoard #hoard movie #hoard film #let’s not forget people- Michael is a grown man who is trying to go for a 17 year old girl.. while having a pregnant fiancé might I add.#I get it’s to help them with their trauma but still- I don’t think Michael is a good character to make a fic about 😭😭#but I ain’t stopping you- do what you want!!#also it’s just a character 💀#he’s literally proven to be very mentally ill.#just- I don’t think we need to glamorize characters like Michael that’s all #‼️USE CLIPS OF HOARD FOR JOSEPH QUINN STORIES THO I WOULD LOVE THAT‼️

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paradisecas · 1 year

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in my hunt for bad fic however long ago i found one that really stuck with me. like the fic itself is a bit… too detailed in some aspects but really its defining trait to me is that michael is in a female vessel and they call him mikkie. her mikkie? i cannot get that out of my head. mikkie. im pronouncing it like mickey but maybe it’s more like mikey? i dont know why it’s so funny to me but like. mikkie. this is whyy we dont only look for good fics!! because sometimes we find hidden gems like mikkie!!

#part of me is terrified the person who wrote the fic will see this if u do im sorry im not trying to bully. even tho ik that is what im doi #ng #not retyping all that #anyway. my least favorite part. okay backtrack it’s mpreg right it’s dean i read it bc i had to see mikkie #but adam and. mikkie. talk about having a kid like ADAMS the one who’s gonna be pregnant #first of all. how. second of all. why.#mikkie is a cis female like thats the whole point of her being mikkie #even when michaels a girl hes not the one to have the baby. smh.#mine

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blackbleedingrose · 2 months

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Long Lost Morningstar - Part One

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing(s): Lucifer x daughter! reader x Lilith

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Warnings: Forced child abandonment

Notes: This is my first Hazbin mini fic. This will be a mini series, so there will be a part two but it may take a little while as I tend to get busy with work and school - so please, bare with me.

Words: 880

"No! No! Please!"

It's no surprise Lucifer and Lilith fooled around a bit during their days in the Garden of Eden.

What was surprising was the moment Lilith discovered she was pregnant.

Despite the shock and slight fear of being new parents, Lucifer and Lilith were overjoyed at the news.

When they found out the baby was going to be a girl, the two cried in pure happiness.

Lucifer became adamant, and a little overbearing, about doing everything for Lilith not wanting her to overwork herself or the baby. This did annoy Lilith (being the independent woman she was), but she knew he just wanted to make sure she and the baby were safe.

When Lilith went into labor, Lucifer went into full panic mode (imagine that one scene from The Office)

Lucifer: *freaking out* "OMG! IT'S HAPPENING! DON'T PANIC, HONEY!

Lilith: *calmly packing the hospital bags*

Lucifer may have passed out during the delivery when his curiosity got the best of him and decided to see what was going on down there (I imagine seraphim's or angels born in Heaven aren't born the natural way and instead created through magic).

Lucifer woke up from the sounds of crying and when he came to he saw a tiny body being carried by one of the nurses.

After rejoining Lilith's side (and making sure she was okay while profusely apologizing for passing out) they waited for the nurses to clean up the baby.

The moment the two saw one of the nurses bring over a pink bundle, their hearts filled with unbridled love and joy.

She was so small and had tuffs of blonde hair. She had Lucifer's red cheek circle's and Lilith's eyes.

Lucifer's eyes welled up with tears as he lovingly gazed down at the tiny person in his lover's arms. "She's perfect, Lily".

Lilith agreed with happy tears as she laid a gentle kiss on their daughter's head.

The two named her (Y/N) - (Y/N) Morningstar.

(Y/N) was a lively baby who adopted her father's bubbly and curious personality, as well as his love for ducks.

Her first toy was a duck plushie Lucifer had made himself.

However, despite having everything they could want in the Garden, Heaven, and now their new baby - they wanted something more.

They wanted to share free will with humanity in hopes that Heaven would finally see Lucifer's ideas and change their suffocating rules so (Y/N) could live in a world that wouldn't stifle any of her future dreams.

This lead them to tempt Eve with the apple, causing the unfortunate chain of events that lead to Lucifer and Lilith's trial.

The two were found guilty of bringing evil into humanity and as punishment they would be sent down into Hell.

However, before they sent the family into eternal damnation Heaven decided (Y/N) was innocent as she was only a baby who knew not what her parents had done.

Being a child of a seraphim and one of humanities first human's, they saw potential in her for Heaven's future - so they decided (Y/N) would stay in Heaven while Lucifer and Lilith would go down to Hell.

"Take the child," Sera ordered one of the court angels. "No! No! Please!" Lucifer and Lilith begged with tears falling down their faces as they held (Y/N) closer to them. The court angels forced the wailing (Y/N) out of her crying parents arms.

That was the last time Lucifer and Lilith saw their daugther before being banished to Hell for all eternity.

To keep (Y/N) from discovering her true lineage, Heaven decided that Lucifer's twin brother, Michael, would claim to be her father and raise her as a role model seraphim - one that follows Heaven's rules.

As (Y/N) grew up it became increasingly obvious how much she took after her parents. She had Lucifer's curious and cheerful nature, and Lilith's eyes, long blonde hair, and grace - both her parents beauty present in her features. The perfect combination of the two.

She especially adopted Lucifer's six large wings, only they had a pink under surface and gold tips.

To bypass any questions of her mother, Michael told her that he had created her from stardust with both his and Lilith's likeness - only using Lilith as a reference for a female.

Michael made sure her curious nature didn't go as far as Lucifer's, keeping her busy with her education and where he can keep an eye on her.

To keep her in check he told her about Lucifer and Lilith, but that they were her uncle and aunt who had lost their way and fallen from grace.

When she entered into adulthood, Heaven decided it was time for her to bear more serious responsibilities.

That's how (Y/N) Morningstar Demiurgos became one of Heaven's trial record keepers/recorders (she sometimes sits in trials and writes what's being said for the records).

It was mainly because Michael wanted to her to have a busy office job and away from exploring and getting too curious (he hoped being in trials would satisfy her curiosity, but made sure to keep her from asking too many questions).

And for awhile everything was perfect and in Heaven's favor. . .

. . .Until a certain Princess of Hell came to Heaven with a dream.

#hazin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel lilith #lucifer x reader #lilith x reader #lucifer x daughter reader #lilith x daughter reader #morningstar reader

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caramelberzatto · 7 months

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sleepless in chicago // c. berzatto

HI!! here is my first ever dad!carm fic because i simply couldn't get him out of my head. i just love this sweet, little fic so much?? because it just felt so cosy for me when i was writing. i hope you guys love it, too :) and also, i'd like everyone to welcome little riley michael berzatto <3 - clarke pairing: carmy x fem!reader (no description, use of fem pronouns)

The streetlights glowed like stars as you drove home, humming along to the radio. After a long lecture, you were ready to take a long, hot shower and collapse into bed with Carmy.

In the cup holder, your phone began to ring, Carmy's name popping up on the screen. Flicking the Bluetooth toggle on your steering wheel, you answered the call.

"Hi, Bear, I'm almost home."

“Hey, honey,” his voice was low, quiet, and you could hear Riley’s soft coos and babbles in the background. “How was class?”

“Good, yeah. Long, though. Is everything okay? Did Riley lose his paci again? Why isn’t he asleep?”

“Hey, shh, it’s okay, mommy’s coming home, alright?” Carmy cleared his throat, glancing at his son in the bassinet, unable to fight his smile as he watched Riley squirm, reaching his little hands up toward the mobile, sea creatures swimming through the air. “He was asleep, but I was folding laundry in our room and I just heard him start babbling, just saying ‘mom’ over and over. He’s not upset, he’s just, like, awake. And no matter what I do, he won’t settle.”

You smiled to yourself, drumming your fingers on the steering wheel as a red light gleamed at you.

“Try taking him out of his sleepsack, he probably just wants to snuggle.”

“I think he misses you,” he said, voice moving away from the phone with each word. “Isn’t that right, Bug? We miss mommy, huh? But she’s learning, Buggy, she’s so smart. Yes, she is.”

Grinning, you turned onto your street, able to see the lamplight from your bedroom already. One window lit up, a beacon against the otherwise dark house.

At first, when you’d found out you were pregnant, Carmen had been worried. The two of you had agreed to start actively trying to have a child, but when it came to fruition, there was a tumultuous night spent with him, clinging to you, worked up into a state of panic.

‘What if I can’t do it, what if I fucking suck and I fuck it all up, and our baby-’

‘Stop it. Stop. Carm, look at me. Look at me and just shut up for a second.’ You pulled him close, his head resting in the crook of your neck. ‘We will figure it all out together. We’re going to be fine.’

He’d been so worried that he’d grow to create a fucked up family, just like the one he’d escaped from. But seeing him now… He never gave himself enough credit.

Toeing off your shoes by the door, you crept down the hall and into the bedroom. Kicking off your jeans in exchange for a pair of sweatpants, you were lifting your shirt over your head when the bedroom door creaked softly. You glanced over your shoulder and there they were; Carmen stood in the doorway, shirtless, gold chain gleaming, in a pair of boxers. With Riley on his hip, sleepy eyes bright. Your son babbled, reaching for you with soft, chubby fingers.

“Hi, mama,” Carmy smirked, gaze darting over you. You wandered over to them, dropping your shirt on the floor, swatting your husband playfully. Carmen pulled you in, his hand cradled the back of your head as he pressed an almost desperate kiss to your lips.

With Riley sandwiched between you, his warm little body like a heater, his curious hands playing with the strap of your bra, you rested your forehead against Carmy’s, just relishing the moment with him.

Your little family.

And you’re struck, all at once, by the memory of every moment you’d spent wishing for something like this. It had all seemed so unattainable, so out of reach; but you’d just been a lonely teenager, stuck in your hometown. The world hadn’t opened up to you yet.

But now?

If your younger self could’ve seen this, this little moment between the love of your life and the joint result of it, your son…

Well, they’d be proud that you never gave up searching for that comfort, that peace, you’d always craved.

#the bear #the bear fx #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #jeremy allen white #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x you

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amomentsescape · 3 months

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can I also request to yandere slashers and sinclair brothers with a pregnant reader that gets kidnapped if thats ok? Thank you hope im not requesting too much, no pressure to make it 😅

Yandere! Slashers with Pregnant Reader That Gets Kidnapped

Yandere! Slashers x Reader (Separate)

Includes: Freddy, Michael, Jason, Thomas, Bubba, Brahms, Norman, Billy, Stu, Vincent, Bo, & Lester

Warnings: Yandere behavior, mentions of pregnancy, typical Slasher behavior

A/N: No worries! Thank you for requesting :) I also apologize if my last couple of Slasher fics have been a bit short. I've been stuck in a brain fog this past week.

Freddy Krueger

The moment Freddy sees you gone, he just laughs

You couldn't be that stupid to just leave, could you?

You can't escape him when he can show up at any point no matter where you are

However, him popping up and seeing you being held hostage by someone else...

Freddy's smile fades

Of course you wouldn't leave him

But who dares to have put you and his child at risk?

The moment he sees them, he doesn't even care

He immediately slashes their throat and picks you up, not wasting any time taking you back to where you belong

Michael Myers

The kidnapper was careless

Don't they know that Michael would walk to the ends of the earth for you and his child?

His abilities know no bounds

He finds your location within a single night

All you can hear at first are screams and splatters, not sure what is going on outside your little room

But the moment you see Michael, you immediately relax

You weren't sure he would come for you

But here he was

And without a word, he has you lifted in his bloody arms as he walks you back home

Just know he won't be letting you out of his sight at all now

Jason Voorhees

He can hear your screams echo throughout the woods

He knows this area like the back of his hand anyways, so it doesn't take long to locate you

The way you're holding onto your stomach, trying to protect the child from any harm, has Jason seeing nothing but red

He doesn't even want to fool around with the assailant

His machete is plunged into the top of their head before they can even let out a scream

His mood does a complete 180 when he looks back to you, gently taking you in his arms to make sure you weren't hurt

He just sits with you on the ground for a while, rocking you in his arms

He's attempting to comfort you, but there's a part of him that's also trying to comfort himself

Thomas Hewitt

When he comes home to the door wide open, he immediately panics

You didn't leave him... did you?

He thought you were finally happy

Teary eyed and angered, Thomas storms out into the night to look for you

He had wandered pretty far into the area when he heard your screams

Some crazy family seemed to have taken you from your home

Your screams were immediately cut off by the sound of a chainsaw, cutting right into the door

Your kidnappers jumped up and attempted to flee, but Thomas was quick to catch up

You had your ears covered and your eyes tightly shut when he came back in

He gently pulled your hands down and lifted you up

He carried you home without any hesitation

Bubba Sawyer

The screams of devastation he lets out can literally be heard from miles around

Doesn't even want to consider that you left him

You've been so good the last few months

There's no way you would have just left like this

After an hour of him frantically searching around the area, he can finally hear your voice

You were talking to the stranger, asking them to please let you go

The fact that they just kept ignoring you made Bubba even more angry

They only finally looked up when they heard the revving of his chainsaw

They didn't even have time to flee before they were cut in half

He runs over to you quickly, placing one hand on your stomach and the other on the side of your face

He was blubbering, promising you he'll do better next time

Brahms Heelshire

Well this was an incredibly stupid decision on their part

Don't they know that Brahms doesn't ever leave the house?

And wherever you are, he will be too

The kidnapper doesn't even make it out the door with you

The moment Brahms hears your screams, it's over

He emerges from the wall and grabs the kidnapper

You watch as Brahms slams the person's head into the wall, over and over again until they're just a bloody pulp

He storms over to you and grabs you roughly, looking your body over to make sure you and the baby weren't hurt

He traps you in bed with him for the rest of the night

His arms act as a cage, not letting you up for anything

Norman Bates

Everything is a bit of a blur

He comes home to the place ransacked, you nowhere in sight

You weren't reckless

He knows you wouldn't have done this

He turns to go search for you, and that's when things go black

He finally comes to with you crying in his arms on a dirty floor

An unrecognizable body lays beside him, blood pooling everywhere

But you and his child are safe

That's all that matters now

And he'll make sure nothing like this ever happens again

Billy Loomis

Billy is immediately in a rage when he sees you're gone

There is no way you're going to leave him

Never

He'll break into every house in this town if he has to

And that's just what he does

It's only after the 7th house that he finds you tied up to a chair

Oh you poor thing

Of course you didn't leave him

The scene before you quickly becomes bloody

A few bodies lie splattered on the floor, Billy tending to the rope around you

He apologizes for letting this happen and kisses you deeply

It's only later that night you hear of 7 families that had been found slashed in their own homes

There really is no limit when it comes to Billy

Stu Macher

He has a mental breakdown when he sees that you're gone

Goes into a fit of hysterical laughter as he reaches for his knife

He doesn't want to hurt you, but he will if he must

When he hears a scream echo not too far from where he was searching, he sprints to it

And when he sees you being held by some random person, Stu's crazed smile finally drops

He lunges, and things go out of control

Stu is left with a few cuts and bruises, but he doesn't care

He immediately looks you over and makes sure you're not hurt

When he's content, he takes you home and cuddles up with you on the couch, bloody clothes and all

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent doesn't like to venture too far from home, but he'll do it for you

Seeing that you're gone makes him assume the worse

He marches outside the home, already searching every nook and cranny of this desolate place

And it works out in his favor once he sees you in an old building, knocked unconscious

He smashed his way through the window immediately

The attackers come running towards him, but he was quick to act

You awoke to a bloody mess beside you and a worried Vincent knelt in front of you

He rests his hands on your stomach and you nod, letting him know you and the baby are okay

He's content with this and wraps you in his arms to take you back home

Bo Sinclair

If he can't have you, no one can

When he's sees you're gone, he assumes you left just like he knew you were going to try

He hunts you down immediately, ready to do what needed to be done, only to see you scared and tied up

Oh, now Bo can't help the growing smile on his face

You didn't want to leave him, and now he can have fun with whoever was stupid enough to do this

Will knock them unconscious and take you both home

He'll make their death a long and painful one

But it's another addition to the wax museum

One that he is most proud of

Lester Sinclair

He instantly tears up at the idea that you left him

He almost doesn't even want to go after you, but you're also carrying his child

He can't just let you go that easily

He of course checks Ambrose first, and he considers himself lucky to have found you as soon as he did

But seeing you being held by some random person was not what he had planned

Lester's self pity quickly evolves to pure anger

He jumps in and immediately attacks, not even thinking of finding a weapon first

His adrenaline kicks in and it doesn't take long before he kills the kidnapper, suffocating them to death

He then wraps himself up with you, holding you close and apologizing over and over again

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thefanficmonster · 2 months

Note

Not sure if ur accepting requests for the bear.. but could we maybe get a Mikey x reader where she finds out she's pregnant after he died (big angst tbh) and she comes to the restaurant a mess and tells everyone and it's sad but everyone's shocked or something idk if that makes sense lol, thanks

Ahhh the angst! My favorite genre to write 🙈 Thank you so much for the request, darling! I hope you enjoy the fic 💌

Too Much, Too Late

Michael 'Mikey' Berzatto x Reader (Female) [The Bear]

Warnings: Mentioned Suicide, Mentioned Past Drug Abuse (dealing and consuming), Pregnancy, Swearing, SPOILERS for The Bear

Genre: ANGST, Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Angst with a happy ending

Summary: see request above

It was a job like any other. It was supposed to be one of those briskly-in-swiftly-out deals. All you had to do was keep it on the down low, distribute your products, get your pay and leave.

However, that didn't happen exactly as planned.

"Why are you in such a rush, sweetheart?" You found yourself accosted by a man who was very clearly three sheets to the wind already. The redness of his eyes, the dilated pupils and the alcohol on his breath suggested he was under several influences. Still, none of that was any justification for his borderline sleazy behavior. "Why don't you accompany me in blowing through this, huh?" He held up the baggie he'd just bought off you, causing you to roll your eyes.

In another setting, preferably under vastly different circumstances you would've probably found him attractive and would even like to uphold a conversation with him. Then again, in those ideal circumstances you imagine he wouldn't have been nearly as obnoxious as he was being in that moment.

Besides, you had a strict rule against participating in drugs with your clients. Or just drugs, period. Anything stronger than weed, that is.

You wanted to get him off your back as soon as possible so, instead of shutting him down in your typical cut-throat manner, you decided to let him down slowly and vanish before his object permanence kicked in. "Another time, pal. I have a busy night ahead."

It worked like a charm anytime someone tried to sweep you off your feet.

However, none of those other occasions had any follow-up. This one, on the other hand....

"Hey."

You had been caught up in your thoughts, making a mental itinerary for the next few days worth of deliveries when a voice startled you out of your tranquility.

It was the following morning and you were headed to the dumpster that was your plug's house - if you could even call it that.

Looking up, you couldn't help but frown at the sight of the 'flirt' from last night standing on the porch of your plug's house, leanings against the fence, smoking a cigarette.

"Hi?" The word came out automatically, a notation of confusion to it which made him smile.

"I don't know if you not remembering me is for better or for worse. I understand I came off a bit....gross last night." His unoccupied hand clasped around the back of his neck, an apologetic half-smile on his lips.

Despite being puzzled by the predicament, you found yourself chuckling, "No, no, I remember you. And don't worry about it, you were pretty tame compared to other shitbags I've had to deal with."

Your wording made him let out a laugh, "Yeah, 'shitbag' sums me up nicely."

Realizing how your words were poorly transmitted, you hurried to correct yourself, "No! That's not what I..."

He laughed yet again, amused by the blush that had crept onto your cheeks, "I know, I'm just fucking with you." He flashed you a charming smile as he tossed his cigarette and offered you his hand, "I'm Michael, by the way, but everyone calls me Mikey."

You were surprised by your own lack of hesitation as you took it, "Y/N, nice to meet you, Mikey."

What did surprise you was his smooth gesture - bringing the back of your hand to his lips, pressing a quick kiss to your knuckles. You could see relief flood his features when you only scoffed in amusement. "Hope you don't mind, I asked around about you at the party last night. You're quite the phantom, you know. Nobody knew anything except your plug and it was a whole other hassle having to track him down."

You would've been lying if you said you didn't find his effort flattering. "Why go through all that trouble?"

There was that charming smile once more, now accompanied by a wink, "Cause that ain't a face you simply forget, darling."

That's how it all started, three years ago. But you can hardly remember any of it now. Everything has quickly been overshadowed by the tragedy that rocked your world.

Losing the love of your life. No one and nothing can ever prepare you for such a thing. No one can take away or aid the pain it brings on. No one can tell you how to move on, if you ever will. No two grieving processes are the same and yours has been very quiet. Too quiet. You can't even remember if you've cried since you found out a week ago. You can't remember having spoken to anyone since that dreadful phone call.

It's all been building up, piling on - the calm before the storm.

And the storm has just crashed down on you, tears finally spilling over past the barrier you're able to hold them at. Sobs scratch up your throat, racking your ribcage, echoing back at you off the bathroom walls. All the agony, all the pain, the regret, the guilt the grief - it all spills out in those harrowing sobs as tears stream down your face, falling onto the sink counter and pregnancy test on it.

The positive pregnancy test.

"No, no, no...." You mumble to yourself in despair, unsure of what exactly you're saying no to.

You don't even have time to process how you feel about it, if you want it, whether you're happy about it or not. All that's plaguing your mind is the gnawing thought of what if?

What if you'd found out two weeks earlier? What if you told him? What if that changed his mind? Would you still have him by your side if he knew he'd be a dad? Would this be a reason for joy and excitement for the two of you? Having your own little family, fucked up in its own way but miles better than your individual families.

You never met his, he never met your. Unlike him, though, you haven't seen your folks in years, five to be exact. He put up with his, you had cut off yours.

You're well versed into his family and their dynamics though, thanks to all the stories Mikey told you throughout the years. You specifically remember him talking about his siblings with such adoration. Natalie and Carmen. The only supposedly sane ones of the bunch.

Wiping the tears off your burning red cheeks, you regain control of your breathing, effectively calming yourself down as you take a long look at yourself in the mirror. You will yourself to put a hand over your belly, taking a moment to let the realization of there being a living thing inside you sink in.

Your and Mikey's baby.

A baby that'll never know the wonderful man that is their dad.

"Don't worry, baby. If they don't want us, we'll always have each other."

* * * * *

After a sleepless night, you find yourself struggling not to nod off on the train.

You thought you'd feel a lot more....well, something more as you approach the inevitable meeting with Mikey's brother. Instead, you're quite numb, immune to whatever you might be faced with once you arrive at the restaurant. Nothing he might say or do can faze you, not after the week you've had. Though you're pretty sure his hasn't been any better. He lost his brother after all. It could be a point of mutual understanding for the two of you or a point of collision and apperhension.

Only one way to find out.

You're surprised by the sheer boldness with which you enter the sandwich shop. Again, you thought you might exhibit at least mild hesitation but you have never been prone to such reservations. You still do things like you used to back in your dealer days - briskly-in-swiftly-out.

This is no different.

Upon entry, the interior feels familiar. You've been here only twice before, always after closing, snuck in by Mikey as a date night. He'd cook for you while you DJed with the restaurant sound system in the office. It was the peak of romance in your relationship.

Never once did you think one day you'd be coming in alone, during work hours, the memories bringing tears to your eyes.

You push the pain to the backburner when a waiter approaches you. "Welcome, what can I get ya?"

You force the closest thing to a smile you can manage, "Carmen Berzatto, if possible."

Just then, as if on cue, sounds of chaos flood out from the kitchen into the seating area. It doesn't really seem to bother any of the three tables enjoying their meal, but you are certainly a little shocked. You remember Mikey mentioning shit would get chaotic in back of house, but you'd never imagined it'd be this bad.

The waiter casually peers over his shoulder, pressing his lips in a thin line, "I can't promise you anything but I'll go ask. Who's asking for him?" He inquires, already uneasy at the thought of what he'll be met with in the kitchen.

"Mikey's girlfriend." You watch, in real time, as the poor guy's eyes hollow out in shock, his eyebrows raising impossibly high.

Despite being rattled by your response, he manages to clear his throat and murmur a quick, "Please wait here" before disappearing out of view.

Less than a minute later, the door to the kitchen swung open again, the man emerging from the kitchen shocking you with his lack of resemblance to Michael. Fair hair, bright blue eyes, overall soft features whereas Mikey was all sharp edges, dark brown hair and chocolate eyes.

He too, quite like his brother, is doing a poor job masking his confusion as he offers you a tattooed hand as a greeting, "Hi."

You take it, "Hi."

The rowdiness picks up yet again, causing Carmy to motion for you to follow him, "It's a little too loud in here." You nod and follow suit as he leads you out through a back exit to a fenced of area. He shuts the door, drowning out most of the noise before he turns back to face you, "Alright, tell me everything."

It takes all the will you have coupled with all the pride within you not to let yourself shed any tears as you sum up five of the best years of your life in front of this stranger. It gets especially hard when you see his eyes gloss over but you manage to keep it together. Your chest feels somewhat lighter once you bare one of the biggest secrets in your life, knowing there cannot be any repercussions now.

Because...well...he's gone.

"Fuck..." Is all Carmy can say to break the silence after you've concluded your story. His gaze is trained on the ground, his hand cupped around his mouth. He suddenly lifts his head to look at you, making you feel a little too exposed. Those eyes stare right through you. "Why didn't he ever tell us about you?"

You shrug, you have no real answer. You don't know why he would tell them but you're none the wiser as to why he didn't tell them either. So, you just stay quiet.

He nods, pausing for a second to collect his thoughts before speaking up again, "I-I gotta ask...did you suspect anything? Like, did you see any signs?"

You were expecting this. That doesn't mean it hurts any less to actually hear him ask it. You force yourself to inhale a shaky breath before replying, speaking around the knot in your throat, "No. I saw him that morning, he seemed fine. Nothing out of the ordinary. We were talking about the game. He was excited the Sox had won. He made us breakfast. I ironed his shirt for work and I sent him off. And...." You take a moment to maintain your composure, "...that was the last time I saw him."

"Fucking hell..." He sighs out, the curse pouring out from the depths of his soul. He takes a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket, taking one and offering the pack to you, "You smoke?"

You shake your head, "Yeah, but I can't right now." You let out a bitter chuckle as you add on: "Last night...I found out I'm pregnant."

Carmy chokes on the puff he'd just inhaled, coughing out the smoke. He gives you a deer-in-headlights look, trying to gouge your reaction so he can mimic his accordingly. You help him out by giving him a slight smile, allowing him to reflect it back at you ten fold.

"No fucking way." He laughs, prompting you to nod, your eyes filling with tears for the millionth time today. He tosses his cigarette, motioning for you to approach him, "Come here." His arms wrap around you and you damn near break down, finally allowing yourself to shed those tears you've been holding back as you hug him back, squeezing him tightly.

You didn't realize how much you'd needed that hug, that comfort. You had no one to offer it to you. It's funny how quickly people can become important in our lives - in this case, only minutes after entering yours.

You're both startled when the door is thrown open revealing a man you don't recognize initially. His demeanor allows you to connect him to a name soon though.

"Cousin, what the fuck?! We're fighting a war in there...- oh, my bad." He straightens his attitude when he notices you, "Hi there."

Sniffling, Carmy wipes a stray tear before offering Richie a wide smile, "Cousin, we're gonna be uncles."

The confusion on his face provokes a laugh out of you, a genuine one at that. It's refreshing, nostalgic almost. And although you're well aware you'll have to retell your and Mikey's story several more times to catch people up to speed, you know that it'll be a little less dreadful each time.

* * * * *

It's over. The five minutes of utter hell and chaos are over.

You share a look of disbelief with Syd before bursting out in hysterical laughter, enveloping each other in a hug.

"We did it."

"We fucking did it."

Wiping sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand, you beam up at Richie who is equally as high on the feel of accomplishment. His arms wrap around you so tightly, he momentarily lifts you off the ground.

It's finally the calm after the storm. You can finally relax without waiting for the other shoe to drop.

You rush out to the dining are, going straight to Sugar and Pete's table where your one year old son is being entertained by the couple, cackling as Pete tickles his feet.

"Hope he wasn't too much trouble." You say as you approach their side, your voice prompting Sugar to get up and practically tackle you with upmost joy.

"Great job back there, Y/N." She beams at you, holding your hands tightly when she pulls away.

"You too, mama." You smile back, resting a hand over her swollen belly just in time to feel a kick.

Turning back to Calvin, you see him making grabby hands at you, giggling when you pick him up, peppering kisses all over his face, "Hi, baby!" You coo to him, adjusting his surprisingly still clean shirt. A fancy one, curtesy of Richie. Him, Fak and Calvin are in matching suits tonight and it's the most adorable thing. "Wanna go see uncle Carmy?"

It's ridiculous you even asked. The little boy cheers happily, kicking his feet as you carry him back to the kitchen, stopping in front of the freezer door to knock on it.

"What?!" You hear Carmy's rough voice boom from inside.

"Carmy!" Calvin calls out to his uncle, his tiny hands tapping on the freezer door, "Hiiii!"

"Hi Baby Bear." His tone has softened now, raising to an octave higher, "Your mommy is a badass, you know that."

"Oh he knows." You reply, resting your forehead on the cool metal, "We did it, Carm. We took care of it. Everything's handled, don't worry." You take this moment of calmness on his end to reassure him that no matter what anxieties are plaguing him, everything is and will be fine.

"I know you did, Y/N. You're an awesome team. Just wish I was in the fire with you, you know?" He says through a shaky breath, causing your heart to ache.

"Oh this was just the frying pan, dude. You'll be there for the many fires to come." Your words are successful in making him laugh, bringing you relief.

"I cook too!" Calvin proudly proclaims, making you both chuckle.

"You'll cook too, Teddy Bear. You'll be the best fucking chef ever." You gave up a while ago trying to shield Calvin from the sailor mouths of the Berzatto family and the restaurant as a whole. If he has a potty mouth from a very early age, you'll just blame it on his dad and uncles.

You never dreamed you'd find yourself in the cahoots of such a batshit crazy and immensely loving family. It really makes you feel a sense of fulfillment looking back at how far you've come and look forward knowing that you'll never come to a point where you'll be alone.

You'll always have your son, the Berzattos and The Bear by your side.

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weirdly-specific-but-ok · 2 months

Text

the bafta livestream out of context: top 60 cursed quotes.

There is nothing more cursed than the livestream I just witnessed, and I made a summary post but now I'm just going to put in quotes by the worthy maggots in the stream with no context, because BELIEVE ME THE CONTEXT DIDN'T MAKE ANYTHING BETTER. The livestream chat was NOT A PLACE OF THE LORD.

I'm going to make the quotes that were by me a different colour. Please know that I am NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR A SINGLE QUOTE OTHER THAN THOSE. SO HERE'S THE TOP 60 IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER:

Barbenhimer awakened things in me ok

aroace people the most disturbingly sexual talkers on the planet fight me on this

WHO JUST GASPED

MICHAEL SHEENS BABY TALKING BARK BADK IM A DOG BARK WOOF

I feel so sorry for this woman. She's being so heartfelt and we're here thristing over a slinky that possessed a man

IRELAAAND PLEASE ADOPT ME AS YOUR OWN PLEASE TAKE ME TO THE LAND OF UNPRONOUNCABLE WORDS, GREEN FEILD, CATHOLISISM AND HOZIER PLEASE

the urge to go to france and misgender a croissant is real

Devastated the slutty knees have gone away

So many men nowadays are so submissive and breedable like thank you lord for these men thank you

witches and murder slime tutorial

speaking of royals did the bloke who ISN'T lizzy's husband but her son apparently die yet

Turtleneck Crowley is my gender.

WE COULD HAVE LEFT IT AS NOT SAFE FOR WORK WHY THE DRTAOLS ASMI

SAY AN BFUIL CEAD AGAM DUL GO DTÍ AN LEITHREAS AN WE'LL LET YOU THROUGJ

"Oompa loompa doopety dee, I really hated being in this movie" -Hugh grant probably

IF YOU'RE A CHILD AVERT YOUR EYES FROM THAT MESSAGE IM SORRY

i want the kilt back this a betrayal

if someone put me in a room with kilt!david tennant one of us is walking out of that room pregnant and its not gonna be me

a lot of these words are in the bible and none of them should be in that order you need jesus

Can we vote to make david wear that kilt back? Maybe make him do a twirl this time

You mean Bildaddy? 😏

Honey what make you think a dude who roamed around with prostitutes and got himself more holes for mankind won't be calling bildad bildaddy? [this was about jesus btw.]

FREE THE KNEE

Show us the knees!

AND YOU'RE COMING AFTER ME FOR MY BLOWJOB BANANA

He looks like those fancy chocolates. Imma take a bite outta him. Think you'll leak molten goo like them?

My brain isn't working, I read "bratty couch jr"

i'm sorry the what holes

FIND ME ON GOAD AND I WILL MAKE YOU PAY APPROPRIATELY

I genuinely thought it was a road typo and I thought you were threatening asmi with physical violence on the road

OHH FLOWER OF SCOTLAAAAAAND

Combine that with the unfortunate oranges and see what happens.

DEVASTATING NEWS I ATE UP ALL OF THEM SO I'VE BROUGHT A BLOWJOB BANANA INSTEAD

That reminded me of the army video where the guy was deepthroating a 7 inch banana without a hitch.

OMG THEY JUST FLASHED BACK & I GOT A GLIMPSE OF THAT KILT 🥵🥵🥵

thats why apollo had to deliver you at an illegal sushi restaurant

How long do you think it would take to get david naked from his chocolate man suit? Can we set a new speedrun category?

SUPERBOWL FOR TENNANTISTS

Big feelings about pants straps in the chat tonight

Last time i check yoire supposed to thank the lord gor his gifts

HEY GUYS ASMI'S FROM A PARALLEL UNIVERSE CONFIRMED

I just have a deep appreciation for ireland

Can you use suspenders as bondage gear? I mean it looks like it would be fine? I mean if you make the length a bit more they might be more comfortable than ropes. Just sayin

All i can think when i see him in the costume is the one specific ken and oppenhimer slash fic. Lord help me i can't be saved

GIVE MY LOVE TO THE LEPRECHAAAAAAAAAAAUNSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Like a giant orange slice on her one arm.

Stop hitting the lectern geez / what if its into that?

Men who wear suspenders are such losers like why do you need so much cloth to keep your pants up. Why dont you just wear a belt. Where do you live. What is your timezone. What are you office hours

what is this suspender shaming ari chappal for you

Aziraphales office hours are: fuck off

Put me ina room with a suspender wearing man and he shall have the same fate as kilttennant

MARIYADAM E ILLAI

It was titled "snake in my b***" It meant butt lmfao

CROWLEY AND LOKI MY GENDERFLUID ICONS

THE KNEES ARE BACK

THEKNEES GOD SAVE ME FROM THESE SINFUL THOUGHTS

What if slutshaming is my kink?

NOT THE BLOWJOB FACE NO

AT THIS POINT IF NEIL HASN'T UNFOLLOWED ME YET HE'S ASKING TO BE MENTALLY SCARRED IM SORRY

I am failing

Tagging the main culprits whose tumblr handles I know:

@thearoacemess @vitrilol @queermarzipan @good-usernames-were-taken

Cheers, maggots.

#good omens mascot #weirdly specific but ok #asmi #good omens #maggots #good omens fandom #crowley #bafta awards #bafta 2024 #bafta #suspenders #discord livestream #david tennant #michael sheen #barbenheimer #oppenheimer

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quietwingsinthesky · 11 months

Note

If you're still doing the drabble thing, could you write some Michifer mpreg fluff/fix it. Like Michael's pov on Lucifer being pregnant and coming to terms with it and what it means for their relationship? No pressure though, sorry if this seems pushy

Anon, dear anon, not only is it not pushy at all, it is encouraged! Prompts do make the world go round.

Fic can be found here on AO3 for reading convenience and is also right below.

Their actions in the Cage weren’t supposed to have consequences. When there was no escape from the pit, no meaningful passage of time in eternity, no outside eyes peering in on them, how were they supposed to remain as they fell, estranged and furious? They fought for a very long time, and ignored each other for longer, and finally, wove grace through grace in profound intimacy. Michael could have stayed like that forever. He had his other half back, and that was all that mattered.

A seed was planted, but in Hell’s stasis, it laid inert.

It’s Raphael who eventually frees them. Michael doesn’t know the details because they don’t want to talk about it, but he gathers that they hoped they would find something more behind the bars than two brothers reconciled. When they don’t, it’s the straw on the camel’s back, and Raphael finally abandons their post. Michael tries not to hold their distance against them. If anyone deserves a break from serving Heaven, it’s Raphael.

That leaves him and Lucifer alone together. Michael could return to Heaven. In duty’s name, maybe he should.

He’s not going to. He did everything right, and nothing went as it was supposed to. In his mind, he’s no longer under any obligations, and if their Father takes issue with it, He can come down to the cabin Michael and Lucifer call home and order Michael back to Heaven Himself. His Father’s absence is a strange kind of security.

Lucifer wanted someplace remote. Michael had no arguments. Neither of them would have been very good at living among humans even before their extended stint in isolation. This way, they can go out and watch people like they’re birds, memorizing patterns of behavior and noting to each other the different kinds they see, and then have a safe home to return to once they get too overwhelmed. Quiet walls, and warm air, and a comfortable bed to nest in together – it’s all Michael could have dreamed of when Lucifer tucks himself under Michael’s wing and refuses to budge for hours, soaking up all of his brother’s affection.

Until the day Lucifer suddenly begins to pull away.

It starts with a dropped plate.

Lucifer won’t abide a dirty home. It’s a quirk of his that Michael finds both endearing and saddening. It’s not the mess Lucifer has a problem with. He loves sticking his hands in the dirt in the garden he’s made for them, and he had fun during the process of painting their new home, getting covered in different shades of emerald and lavender and a dozen others that Michael couldn’t leave behind once he’d sampled their colors at the store. But the rooms of the cabin are all spotless, and their clothes are all well-washed, and Lucifer makes sure the plates are all clean by hand.

Michael does his own share of the cleaning, but when Lucifer is in the middle of it, he doesn’t want help. (Or, at least, he doesn’t want Michael’s.) Instead, Michael contents himself with watching his brother. Lucifer is very expressive through his vessel in a way Michael can’t get the hang of, and it’s interesting to watch the way his eyes and mouth move minutely to accompany his thoughts.

Before it happens, Michael notes a shift at the corner of Lucifer’s mouth that comes with him biting the inside of his cheek, a slight furrow between his brows joined by a lowering of his eyelids, and then a full reversal of both, widened eyes and mouth falling open. And that is when the plate drops and cracks Michael out of his observations.

Michael is at Lucifer’s side in a moment. Ceramic bites into his sole, and he jolts at the feeling of it. It doesn’t hurt, but he doesn’t enjoy the feeling of a foreign object invading his vessel’s flesh. He puts it aside to touch Lucifer’s hands. There’s a tremble, soft as a moth’s wing and gone the moment Michael is holding him. Lucifer exhales.

”What’s wrong?” Michael asks. “What upset you?” Was it me? He never asks that. He knows he should, but he doesn’t think he could stand to hear Lucifer say yes.

Lucifer’s hands clench under his own. “I’m not upset.”

“But you-“

”I’m not upset,” Lucifer insists. That tone frustrates Michael. It’s a barrier between them, and after thousands of years apart, Michael should be used to not knowing every corner of his brother’s heart. Somehow, being shut out still hurts. Lucifer looks down at their feet. “You know you’re standing on the shards, don’t you?” Michael is about to reprimand him for trying to change the subject, but then he shifts his weight and sends the ceramic cutting further into his foot. He cringes. Lucifer moves his hands out of Michael’s grip, and before Michael can react, they end up at his waist. Lucifer hauls him up and onto the counter.

”The fact that you can toss my vessel around doesn’t mean you should,” Michael mutters, and Lucifer ignores him, lifting Michael’s foot to deftly pull the shard out himself. Michael winces again at the drag on his flesh.

“Where’s your pain tolerance, brother? Did you get soft hiding out in Heaven?” Lucifer teases, and even as Michael scowls, he presses a kiss to Michael’s mouth. Lucifer delights in pointing out any little wince on Michael’s part since Michael let Castiel light him on fire. Lucifer is going to hold that over his head forever.

He’s very good at getting on Michael’s nerves. Good enough that Michael forgets entirely why he was worried enough about Lucifer to come over in the first place. For now.

Lucifer continues to pull away. Michael will never believe he's made up for what he did to his brother, but he had thought that they'd gotten past the worst of their anger in the Cage. He doesn't understand why Lucifer keeps him at a distance now. He shrinks from Michael's grace and won't snuggle under his wings and every conversation they share is either terse and cut off quickly or turned on its head by Lucifer annoying Michael until he abandons whatever line of questioning he mustered up. He can't help but feel like he's failing Lucifer somehow, as though this is some test of Michael’s love. It gets under his skin, gnawing away at their domestic life. He can't even apologize because he has no idea what to apologize for. Is this a remnant of the trauma the Cage inflicted on Lucifer, or is it a more recent misstep that Michael doesn't even know about?

Worse is when Michael recognizes that there is something wrong with Lucifer’s grace. He can’t tell what it is, not when Lucifer won’t let him close enough, but if there’s only one thing Michael knows, it’s the energy that makes up his brother’s true form. There’s no mistaking the change, no matter how subtle the shifts are at first, the redirecting of power, the sudden guarded force around parts of Lucifer’s grace that aren’t usually vulnerable.

Michael gets more and more concerned as the days go by. He tries to broach the subject, clumsily, and gets shut down by a dismissive, “I’m fine, Michael. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Lucifer only becomes more withdrawn after that.

In the end, he goes looking for help from his other reticent sibling. It takes a little while to find Raphael and longer to convince them to talk to him.

”I wouldn’t bother you if it wasn’t an emergency,” Michael tells them. Raphael is half-burrowed in the Antarctic snow, giving more attention to the gaggle of penguins they’re watching exchange stones than to Michael. Michael sighs and takes a seat beside them, getting his out-of-place jeans wet. “There’s something wrong with Lucifer.” Raphael snorts. There’s a definite air of ‘why are you telling me this’ to the noise.

It occurs to Michael that he doesn’t have that many friends.

”Raphael, please,” he persists, “I think he might be hurt. He won’t let me help him.”

”And he’d let me?” Raphael squirms deeper into the snow. Michael wonders what the point of that is. The penguins can clearly see him and aren’t bothered by his presence, so there’s no reason Raphael has to hide.

“You’re the reason we’re here at all,” Michael says. He looks down at Raphael and then moves to lay on his stomach with them in the snow. He can feel how cold it is against his vessel’s skin, frostbite beaten off by the heat of Michael’s grace. His shirt gets soaked as well. He watches the penguins stride about in pairs, and single ones honk with delight when they find another who will accept a gifted stone and join them. Raphael stays quiet beside him.

Snow glides down onto Michael’s hair. He pillows his chin on his arms. Aside from the sounds of the penguins and the wind, it’s very calm.

“I’ll leave you be.” Raphael rolls their shoulders, disturbing the snow that has gathered there. “I can’t order you to do this, and I don’t want to.”

”Wait.” A single, quiet command. Michael stays where he is. The two of them watch as the penguins waddle off and gather more stones, building nests together started with those first gifts. It takes a few hours for every nest to be built to the satisfaction of the birds. Only when the last of them has settled down does Raphael finally sit up. Michael rolls onto his back, feeling far less riddled with anxiety. “Okay. Now, we can go check on our brother.”

Raphael pauses at the garden when they land outside Michael and Lucifer’s cabin. Their eyes pass over the well-tended to flowers, especially the roses the climb protectively around the front door. There’s a question in their eyes that they keep behind their lips, passing Michael when he opens the door for them.

Michael can hear Lucifer singing, an echo that bounces back and forth between rooms just to reach him and let him know Lucifer is happy. He’ll stop singing the moment he realizes either of them are there, but one day, Michael hopes, that won’t be true. He leads Raphael in further, feet sinking into the fluffy, warm carpet that welcomes him home, and up the stairs to the bedroom nest that he and Lucifer share. Lucifer has stopped now.

“You’re dripping all over the floor,” Lucifer tells Michael as he enters the bedroom. He’s lounging, relaxed, arms crossed over his stomach. He doesn’t even lift his head, not until Raphael follows Michael in. The change is jarring. The minute Lucifer realizes they’re both there, between him and the exit, he tenses up, suspicious eyes locked on them.

Michael tries to disarm his worry, looking down at the small puddle he’s standing in like he has no idea how it got there, despite it being very obvious from the snow melting on the back of his jacket collar.

”Sorry about the mess,” he says. Lucifer’s sits up, eyes flicking between him and Raphael. If he flies off, that’s going to make things much more difficult. Raphael steps around Michael. They’re peering very intensely at Lucifer, and it isn’t helping him to relax any easier.

The stare down carries on far longer than it should.

”How did you-“ Raphael sounds bewildered.

”Raphael.” Lucifer’s voice is tight.

“What is it?” Raphael looks over at Michael, opens their mouth, and then shuts it again with another glance at Lucifer. Michael feels panic begin to rise in him again. What could be so horrible that Lucifer needs Raphael to hide it? He jumps to the worst conclusion. “Are you dying?” All Michael can think is that it’s a punishment for them daring to step out of their roles, Lucifer’s bid for autonomy and Michael’s brother stolen away all in one fell swoop, as cruel a lesson as could be. Lucifer looks shocked at the suggestion.

”He’s not dying,” Raphael says. They turn to Lucifer again, frowning. “You have to tell him.”

”I don’t have to do anything.” Lucifer crosses his arms more tightly and curls in on himself. His grace mimics the posture like he’s protecting something.

”I’m not doing it for you. This is between the two of you.” Raphael goes to leave them. Michael is about to stop them and demand an explanation when they stall by the door. They look back at Lucifer. There’s something softer behind their eyes. Michael has missed it. “I’m happy for you, brother.”

Lucifer’s mouth twists. Raphael sighs. Before their foot hits the floor on the other side of the doorway, they’re gone. Michael has no idea where they’ll go now, back to huddle in the snow or to warmer climates. He hopes it won’t be months until he sees them again this time.

For now, he has another problem to solve. Lucifer won’t meet his eyes.

”It is something I did, isn’t it?” Michael asks. It’s the only reason he has left why Lucifer might be hiding whatever this is from him. To his surprise, Lucifer chuckles without a smile to accompany it.

“Something you did to me, yes.” Michael’s chest clenches, and he swallows down his grief, pushing through to know how he’s hurt his brother now.

”What?” He steps towards Lucifer, knowing he should keep his distance but unable to prevent himself from wanting to comfort him. Lucifer studies him.

“How long is this going to last, Michael?” he asks, and he sounds tired. Michael doesn’t understand, and so, without an answer, Lucifer continues, “when are you going to stop choosing me? Will I even get a warning before you decide to abandon me?” Michael’s attempts to stay back fail completely, and he crawls onto the bed with Lucifer. Lucifer doesn’t flinch away from him as Michael takes his hands and lifts them to his mouth, kissing along his knuckles.

“I’m never going to leave you,” Michael promises.

He can’t blame Lucifer for his doubt. Michael has never said those words out loud before. They’re true. He watches Lucifer’s face.

His frown softens. His eyes widen. His whole face transforms from guarded to open and vulnerable. Michael places a hand against Lucifer’s cheek.

”Nothing will change my mind. No one could.” Lucifer covers Michael’s hand with his own, clutching it close. He shuts his eyes for a moment to regain his composure.

Slowly, he draws both hands down from his face. Michael lets him. Lucifer’s grace unfurls beneath his own, barriers falling to let Michael in once more. Michael peers at his brother’s true form as his palm is pressed against Lucifer’s belly. He’s not sure what he’s seeing, what he’s feeling, until Lucifer drops the last walls that keep Michael’s grace out and-

Oh.

Michael is frozen in shock. There’s a connection to his own grace that Lucifer has been hiding from him, and across it he knows that they are creating something. That should be impossible. Angels may revive and change and even, as Lucifer proved so long ago, corrupt what is already there, but they cannot create anything new.

Lucifer cradles that impossible bloom of new grace, drawing their life from both archangels.

”We have a child,” Michael breathes. The connection to his grace isn’t a conscious one yet, but he can feel the little light within Lucifer growing, changing, becoming.

No wonder Lucifer hid this from him. He had to be sure Michael would stay to nurture their child. As if Michael could ever leave them.

“Aren’t they beautiful?” Lucifer asks, and Michael can see the way he’s devoted so much of his grace to keeping the child safe and helping them to grow. Without a doubt, Lucifer wants this.

“Yes,” Michael agrees. He kisses Lucifer, wrapping his wings around both of their true forms and around their little angel. He knows that the baby’s grace cannot understand it yet, but he sends love through their connection. He will never let them feel abandoned.

#michifer #prompt fic #ask #lucifer/michael #lucifer spn #michael spn #spn #fanfiction #tw pregnancy #yet another excuse for me to tag a fic Pregnant Lucifer #angel babies <3

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agendabymooner · 5 months

Text

the little schuminis || ms47 fic

dad!mick schumacher x mom!ofc

EXTENSION TO SHE’S EVERYTHING… AND HE’S JUST MICK! (SMAU) + MICK, MULTIPLIED (SNAPSHOT)

Summary: Barbie Schumacher was the best mother there is to Mick’s little carbon copies. OR four times when Mick showed his devotion for his kids, and the one time his devotion paid off.

Content warning: Made this in about an hour— did not proofread this but I love it bc F1 driver with kids, All around fluff, Mick issa good dad, Michael Schumacher and Sebastian Vettel being wingmen to their kids (Barbie and Mick), Michael’s clowning his own son, many Schumacher kids

Note: @avaleineandafryingpan I know this isn’t much but I hope you love this request babygorl 😭😭🫶 my heart beats for you fr. Enjoy some dad!Mick content xx

a - n masterlist

o - z masterlist

i. the time with minna schumacher’s late night wake up call

Shrill cries of a newborn love was equal to the agony that Barbie Schumacher — formerly Blanco Vettel — felt as she groaned quietly. 3 AM never felt this awful until her firstborn child reached her teething stage, and all Barbie wanted to do was cry like her daughter was doing in her nursery now.

Perhaps it wasn’t ideal to have a baby at the age of 27. Many people told her that her spouse wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment— that he was still on the peak of his career as a formula one driver.

And Mick was in the midst of a season when Minna Elisa Schumacher was born. Being away from her for far TOO long was something he didn’t want, but he was forced to leave as soon as Minna reached her 47th hour of her life. Mick never hated something this much until his career made him choose.

Barbie grumbled as she reached for her nightgown and slipped it on, only for a large hand to pull her back to the mattress as the German man murmured, “I’ll get her, liebling.”

“Mick…” Barbie hadn’t really wanted to make him get up, seeing as he just arrived four hours ago after his triple header.

“‘s okay, I’ll get Minna,” he muttered, reaching out to kiss his wife’s forehead. “Just go get settled down and you can feed her here.”

The blond man had immediately found Minna crying in her crib as he cradled her, heading downstairs to grab some iced teether to help soothe her gums. “Shh,” he shushed her gently, the baby’s cry subsiding immediately as she sucked on the teether. “You hungry, liebe? Or ‘s it just your gums?”

“We have to stop waking your mom up at such an early time, Minnie baby,” he sighed, rocking her in his arms as they made their way back up to the bedroom. “She’s been awake all the time— she works too hard for us.”

“She’s amazing, no?” Mick asked his daughter as if she could understand every single word he was saying.

“Ma…” Minna mumbled regardless, clinging to his arms as Mick grinned tiredly.

“Yeah, I know,” Mick nodded. “She’s working too hard, Minna. I’m glad she’s here to see you grow like this, liebe.”

“Talking to Minna again, Schums?” A soft voice reached his ears as Mick looked back at his wife, who had her back against the headboard as she smiled tiredly and extended her arms.

“Of course, Barbie,” Mick chuckled. “She’s got to learn her words, one of these days.”

“No need to lecture her though,” Barbie told him. But it wasn’t anything that she didn’t appreciate; she always liked it when Mick talked to their child like Minna understood everything. He had been doing this since Barbie fell pregnant with the girl— he’d often crouch down or lay next to her bulging stomach to speak to the growing baby inside of her.

It showed Barbie that Mick was a committed father. It showed that regardless of his situation as a busy driver, he always saw his family as his number one priority. Perhaps that was why Barbie loved Mick so much.

ii. the time with gisela schumacher’s first ballet show

Gisela Belle Schumacher’s first little ballerina performance was happening in the program facility and everyone made sure to show up.

By everyone, I mean Barbie’s family, the Vettels, and Gisela’s (or Gigi) aunt Gina, Pippa Michael and Nina Corinna. The two year old was excited to show everyone what she practiced with Madame Pinault throughout her three months of being at the class.

She was the tiniest girl out of the group, with her bright blue eyes and blonde hair making her stand out in comparison to her peers’ darker tones of hair. The Schumachers and Vettels knew which one to look out for while they waited at the auditorium.

Barbie peered down at her phone and sighed quietly. Mick wasn’t here yet. Stupid flight of his.

At Gigi’s age, she couldn’t easily grasp the concept of people not being able to make it to certain events at the right time. All she knew was that she was going to show her Dada how she could balance on her tiptoes without a problem.

And of course, Mick couldn’t find himself to break her heart like that. And so, after the Brazilian GP, he took the fastest flight back to Lausanne.

And there he was, rushing inside the auditorium with the biggest bouquet for the littlest girl.

Minna’s announcement led the families to look at him as Mick kissed Barbie’s lips and Minna’s cheeks.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Mick apologized, “the baggage claim took longer than expected.”

“She hasn’t gone out yet,” Barbie laughed quietly, mindlessly caressing Minna’s blonde hair as she continued to speak, “glad to see you back from the race in one piece, though. With the biggest flowers too.”

Later after the performance, Gigi ran around the Schumacher home with the bouquet bragging about the flowers her Dada had given her. Barbie laughed at the sight of the girl— she was too adorable.

Mick laughed along, as he knew that he’d be more than happy to come carrying the biggest flowers for his girl— even after the longest double header he’s had. After all, nothing can stop him from being the best father to his children.

iii. the time with mika schumacher’s birthday party

“Who decided that setting up a pet display should be this fuc—“

“Mick, watch your words.”

“Sorry, Dad.”

“Stop going crazy,” Michael said with a frown, throwing the small giraffe plushie at the direction of his son, to which Mick reacted with an ‘Ow!’ after being hit in the face. “This isn’t the first birthday party you’ve handled.”

“Well this is the first one where ‘pet adoptions’ are a thing,” Mick gestured at the safari animal plushies at hand. “I don’t know what came up to Gina thinking it’s easy to find bulk plushies, but this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done— and I have three kids, Dad!”

“Because you can’t control yourself,” Michael mumbled, making Mick glare at him. Michael shrugged, “Am I incorrect?”

Mick couldn’t even find himself to argue with his dad. Six years into the marriage, and he and Barbie already had three kids under seven.

“I’m just so used to the girls wanting princesses and all of that,” Mick pouted lightly.

Michael sighed, “Well, now you have Mika— think of him as you. What did you like when you’re a kid? Put yourself in his shoes. Don’t tell me you’re having an existential crisis three kids into marriage? I’m actually gonna be disappointed if you didn’t think that before you had the kids— you’ve been a driver for years!”

“How can you find a time to joke about it,” Mick sighed exasperatedly. “I don’t even know why I’m here being an ass about my kid’s birthday party.”

“Because,” Michael told him with a purse of his lips, “you’ve never had a son before— that’s why you’re stressing out about messing up.”

“I struggled with you for a good while,” Michael shrugged nonchalantly, “Gina was into princesses and pink ponies. You were a boy— I didn’t know what baby boys liked. But I was a racer, that’s why I didn’t have any questions— I still hesitated though because you might like something else and I have to be aware of it.”

“From what I can tell, you’re doing an alright job so far,” Michael smiled at Mick, patting him on the shoulder. “Miki’s been a happy child. That’s what matters, no?”

“So pick up your sad face and put those plushies up,” Michael said.

A delighted scream came from inside the house as the year old boy escaped from Kimi Vettel’s chasing, giggling as Mika Sebastian Schumacher ran as much as his little legs could handle.

Eventually he found himself in the arms of Mick as Mika hid from his Uncle Kimi.

“Da!” Mika screamed delightfully, kicking his legs when Kimi Vettel began tickling the boy.

Mick and Michael exchanged grins.

Yeah, Mick would continue to put these plushies up if it meant that he’s making his son happy.

iv. the time with michael ‘mikey’ schumacher’s introduction to the world

Michael Senna, or Mikey, Schumacher was born sixteen hours ago, his tiny body was proof that he was so much like his mother. Yet despite the smallness of his, his facial features and expressions of contentment showed that he was his father’s son.

Another Mick Schumacher had been born into the world, and Barbie and Mick (alongside their family in Switzerland) welcomed him with open arms.

And no one was more than excited than the newborn’s namesake, his Pippa Michael, and Sebastian Vettel when meeting the little boy. In fact, they raced through the hospital as soon as they heard that Barbie, Sebastian’s adoptive daughter, had given birth to Mick’s second son.

Michael was more than happy to meet the boy— just as he was excited to meet his other grandchildren— but to meet little Mikey Schumacher was a moment to remember for everyone. Because that was also the time when Mick announced that…

“I’m retiring,” both Seb and Michael looked at the man with surprised expressions as if they wondered if they heard him right.

Mick explained, “I feel like I’ve lost a lot of time with the kids because I’ve been racing. The kids obviously don’t know how much time I’ve lost because they’re young but… I do. Barbie does.

“It took me a good while to understand what Mika loved— it took me a while to learn how to keep Gigi from having flyaways in her hair during her ballet classes— or how Minnie managed to handle her equestrian routine without Gina or Mom.

“I’ve lost a lot of time,” he said with a small chuckle and a shake of his head. Mick then gestured at Mikey, who remained peacefully sleeping in Michael’s arms as he said, “And with Mikey, I think I can’t afford to do that anymore. I’m okay with one championship only.”

Sebastian broke the silence after, “I’m proud of you Mick,” he smiled softly before reaching out to hug his in-law. “Look at how far Barbie and you’ve come.”

“Back then we had to goad him to ask Barbie on a date,” Michael chuckled quietly.

“It took us eight years,” Sebastian joked.

“Or nine,” Michael snorted.

“We’re still here,” Barbie mumbled in her sleep, “stop making jokes about it.”

“Still,” Michael said, “we’re very happy for you and Barbie, son.”

“This is where your life begins,” Sebastian nodded, “all you need to do is to tell everyone about your commitments and devotion for your children and wife.”

i. the time mick’s devotion paid off

Being a retired driver felt great. It wasn’t everyday Mick got to say that— and now he had every chance to.

Barbie’s family restaurant in Lausanne, one that she named SV et Blanco, had been built years ago— it was the Vettels and Schumachers’ pride. After she graduated from culinary school, Barbie worked as a chef in nearby restaurants before eventually deciding that she wanted a place where family could start their traditions through countless dishes and desserts to try.

Needless to say, it became a local and even international favourite. Many tourists in Switzerland would try to stop by Lausanne just to get a taste of Kimi Vettel’s favourite spinach and egg soufflé.

And now, SV et Blanco became a place for the Schumachers to spend their time during the Friday afternoons after Minna and Gigi’s classes. Mick would always pick up his daughters with Mika and ten month old Mikey on their car seats.

And after that, he’d come dropping by the restaurant. With Mika on his pram and Mikey on his back carrier, he led the kids into the restaurant as they found their mother making her rounds around the place.

“Mama!” Minna exclaimed before she and Gigi ran towards Barbie, hugging her around the legs.

“Oh, excuse me,” Barbie smiled at the guests before she crouched down to hug her girls. “Gigi, Minnie— hello! How’s school!”

“School is good, Mama!” Gigi grinned. “I got star for writing!”

“That right? Good job, Gigi,” Barbie grinned. “And you, Minnie? How is your school?”

“Okay! I want soufflé though!” The eldest Schumacher pouted lightly. “I wanna see Pippa and Nina!”

“Pippa and Nina! And Sebby— and Mamma Bel!” Mika shouted from his pram.

Barbie giggled lightly before looking up at her husband, “And…? How’s Dada, kids?”

“Dada’s not that busy,” Mick giggled, “hungry for some soufflé though— Minna’s right.”

“Well,” Barbie clapped her hands before standing up, “it’s a good thing it’s our everyday special.”

“Great,” Mick joked. “Otherwise we traveled to Lausanne for nothing.”

Barbie rolled her eyes playfully.

It was a good thing Mick’s devotion and commitment for his kids were paying off. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be the retired father that he is now— his kids wouldn’t be adoring their mother as much as Mick did back when they were teenagers and secretly in love.

#formula one dad #formula one fic #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula one imagine #formula 1 #f1 fic #formula one x oc #mick schumacher fluff #mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher fanfiction #mick schumacher fanfic #ms47 #formula one fluff #f1 fluff #f1

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queenshelby · 1 year

Text

Forbidden Desire (Part Four)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader (Female/Incestuous)

Warnings: Incest (at this stage accidental), Age Gap, PTSD, Domestic Abuse, Self-Harm, Fluff, Mild Smut

Words: 5,456

Summary:

This plays after Grace’s death but before Tommy becomes a politician. Lizzie is pregnant with Tommy’s child, so it is somewhere around season four.

In this fic, Tommy suffers from episodes of PTSD and so does the reader, resulting from trauma and abuse. They will help and save each other without realising that their connection is much stronger than they could have anticipated.

There will be love, fluff and smut as well as a highly taboo relationship.

PLEASE COMMENT AND ENGAGE!

QUESTION: WHO IS TOMMY TO THE READER? WHOOPS!

YOUR POV

The following day, you again, arrived at the gambling den on time only to find out that Tommy was not there and neither were any of his brothers.

Polly and Michael too were absent from the den that day and the only person who barged in at around 9 o’clock was a woman by the name of Linda.

She was blonde and beautiful, with lovely curls and hypnotic eyes. She appeared stressed however and when you introduced yourself to her, she chuckled.

“I know who you are. My husband told me about you this morning” the woman then said and you queried her.

“Your husband?” you asked, not knowing who she was married to.

“Arthur Shelby. He is my husband and I believe that, last night, you met him, at the state library” Linda explained before sitting down and looking through the betting book.

“Yes, I did. He seemed nice” you acknowledged before thinking back to last night which is when Arthur, who happened to be Tommy’s oldest brother, came to find him. He too was in a panic last night, telling Tommy that he found someone they have been looking for. An acquaintance of some sort and, with that, Tommy had to leave rather abruptly.

Leaving you with his car and the key to the library, Tommy said goodbye without a kiss and it was almost like he did not want his brother to know about the fact that he took a liking in you.

Why this was the case, you did not know but, somehow, it was bothering you. You felt as though he was embarrassed by the way he had met you, in less than ideal circumstances and, the idea of Tommy being ashamed of you, was stuck in your head for the entire night.

You got no sleep whatsoever and needed to know the true nature behind Tommy’s intensions. Why was he so afraid of showing his feelings towards you in front of others? Was this just a game to him? Something to kill his boredom with perhaps?

“Y/N” you then suddenly heard Linda as, clearly, you were daydreaming and thinking too much about last night.

“Yes Linda” you responded almost reluctantly.

“Are you alright taking some bets today? Because we will be on our own until 3 o’clock” she then said and you realised that she must have asked you this very same question just seconds ago to which, clearly, you had failed to respond.

“Yes, I can take bets. You may just need to help me write them down. I am okay with numbers, but complex words are a different story” you admitted to her before asking where everyone was.

“There was an incident last night, near the docks in Camden Town” Linda told you but this did not really answer your question.

“What sort of incident?” you thus asked but Linda shrug her shoulders.

“Business I suppose” Linda said. “My husband never really tells me everything but, what I know is that Tommy was shot last night and this is why he isn’t here today. Lizzie cancelled all of his meetings” Linda explained and your chin dropped while fear began to overwhelm you.

“Oh my god Linda. You need to tell me what happened to Tommy” you demanded, but Linda did not, immediately, answer your question.

“So it is true what Lizzie said. You have taken a liking in Tommy” Linda observed instead. “My oh my, little one. You know you don’t stand a chance, right? Tommy is not a man who is faithful. Despite, he is marrying Lizzie, so…” Linda then went on to say but you did not care and repeated your question.

“Linda, is Tommy okay?” you asked again, to which, finally, you received an answer.

“Yes. He is fine. It is not the first time he got shot and the man who shot him is now laying in a ditch somewhere. My husband made sure of that” Linda told him while you were quick to reach for your coat, causing Linda to ask where you were going.

“I need to see him” you told her, causing Linda to roll her eyes.

“No, you don’t. What you need to do is to help me run this office. Tommy will be just fine” Linda said sternly before making an observation. “You have no idea what Tommy does, do you?” she then asked but the question was a rhetorical one. “He may be my brother in law, but he is not a good man” she furthermore said. “It is because of Tommy that my husband is acting the way he does. He had found God after having been jailed for his crimes, but now he is back carrying our Tommy’s dirty work. It’s appalling and you should stay away from him” Linda finally mentioned to you but this was not all she had to say.

“I know about you. I know about your stepfather too. Tommy is looking for him’” Linda revealed and you gasped momentarily in response.

“What are you talking about?” you wanted to know, seeing that you were not aware of any business Tommy had with your stepfather.

“You think that Tommy chose you out of kindness or love?” Linda chuckled after realising how oblivious you were. “Lizzie is right. You are naïve. Your stepfather has a gambling debt with Shelby Company Limited and went into hiding after using a false identity to steal from Tommy’s family business. Tommy wants to recover the debt and make him pay for stealing from him. This is why he needs you” Linda then told you and it all started to make sense now.

Tommy did not like you. He was using you. This was all you were to him.

“I need to go Linda” you then told her as you were trying hard to hold back your tears. You were feeling betrayed and upset by what Linda had told you and, even though you still could not be sure about Tommy’s true intentions towards you, you were almost certain that you were nothing but a means to an end.

To be continued…

Please comment and engage. I love getting comments and predictions pretty please!

Tommy Shelby Tag List:

@fastfan

@elenavampire21

@dolllol2405

@allie131313

@cilliansangel

@coldbastille

@kpopgirlbtssvt

@cdej6

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438 notes · View notes

looseratinthegarage · 2 years

Note

i saw ur thomas dad fic and it got me thinking abt dad michael, i wanna request headcannons of michael being a new dad!! (even tho michael probably cant have babies and would never handle a baby but i also cant stop thinking abt how in halloween 2 he completely ignores/doesnt disturb the babies sleeping in the hospital)

RZ Michael Myers as a new papa

Afab reader, gn pronouns

OMG I had so much fun writing this!! Thank you so much for the request T^T sorry it took so long!!

I hope this isn’t too short, if you’d like a pt 2 pls let me know! I’d love to keep writing about daddy Michael! He’s so precious <3

•You started to feel sick and Michael noticed before you did. You tried flu medication but nothing was helping. You begrudgingly went to the doctors. Your jaw dropped when they told you you were pregnant. You with Michaels baby!?

•You bit your lip and felt a pit in your stomach. How would Michael react? Would he be mad? Happy? Would he just leave you to raise the kid?

•You drove back home and entered the Myers house. Michael had been waiting for you on the couch. He looked up and waited for an explanation for your illness.

• “So, I’m uhh,” You looked into his eyes and felt fear rise into your chest.

• “…I just have a common cold, they said it should pass soon.” You force a small smile and head into the bathroom.

•He, being the observant man he is, noticed your strange behavior. But he decided to leave it alone for now.

•The next day you were in the kitchen making breakfast and Michael started walking down the stairs. You remain silent, focusing on cooking. He walks up behind you and kisses the side of your face. He rests his head on yours and wraps his arms around your stomach.

•At first you thought it was a kind gesture, but then he started rubbing it lovingly. You shakily turn the shove off and face him with wide eyes.

• “You know?” You ask and try to gulp your nerves down.

•He simply nods and places his hand on your stomach again. You look up at him with tears building in your eyes. He turns his head to the side and wipes your tears away.

• “You- You're not mad?” You stifle a hiccup.

•He turns his head to the other side in confusion then shakes his head no. He leans down and begins kissing your tears away.

• “Why would I be mad? We’re having a-“ he paused for a moment, fully taking it in.

• “a baby.” He smiled into your neck.

•You were astonished. He had always hated children, why wasn’t he storming off? You pull away from him and cup his cheeks. You continue to cry, but happy tears this time. Just be prepared for him to be even more possessive and protective.

•Months later you give birth to the little one. Well, little ones… You had twins! A boy and a girl. Due to Michaels…. Reputation… you decided to give birth at home. You wanted him to be there for the birth.

• “I was thinking Audrey for the girl, and Mick for the boy, it’s close to Michael and they’re won’t be any confusion in the house.” You giggle and he smiles at his kids.

• “Mick and Audrey it is.” He reaches for one of them but retracts his hand, almost fearfully.

•You get him to sit down next to you and hand him Mick first. He’s extremely hesitant, but takes the little boy into his arms. Mick cried for a little bit, but then babbled to Michael happily. You had never seen Michael handle something so carefully before, it was really sweet.

•You then handed him Audrey, who seemed to not really care what was happening. She looked around, seemingly unimpressed at the environment and looked to her dad. She just silently stared at him. She definitely has his personality. You giggle at their staring contest.

#pregnant reader #horror #slashers #slasher community #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #halloween #rz michael myers x s/o #rz michael myers x reader #rz halloween #rz michael myers #michael myers x s/o #michael myers headcanons #michael myers x reader #michael myers #rob zombie michael myers

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zablife · 1 year

Text

Weathering the Storm

Bonnie x pregnant wife reader

Summary: When Micheal comes to your camp for protection, Bonnie is unsettled by his arrogance and hostility toward you.

Author’s Note: This part two to the fic Stay was requested by a lovely anon. However, you do not need to read that fic to understand this one. A bit of angst, but mostly fluff as Bonnie protects his wife.

Warnings: hint of smut, pregnancy, language, ethnic slurs, fighting

Bonnie slung an arm over your waist in his sleep. You clung to him tightly, waking him and he asked, “Everything alright, dove?”

“I’m fine. Just cold,” you said, burying your face against his bare chest.

“Well, let me warm you up,” he said with a smirk, covering your body with his in an instant.

He hovered over you for a moment as he arranged the blankets and you looked up at him adoringly. When he lowered himself to you once again, he slipped a hand beneath your neck, cradling you gently and placed his mouth to yours, slipping his tongue inside as softly as possible. Bonnie was always delicate with you, never in a hurry and always so loving. He began rolling his hips over you and you giggled into his mouth.

You let out a quiet moan and he stroked your hair, watching you in adoration. “Do you still want the child we’ve been speaking of?” he asked sincerely.

“You know I do,” you answered, raising your hips toward him suggestively. He smiled at your admission, quickly ridding himself of his shorts and hitching up your night dress. “I love you so much, y/n,” he said as he seated himself within you fully. The rest of the early morning hours were spent with your husband pumping himself languidly within your walls, pulling the sweetest sounds from your throat as you enjoyed one another. As newlyweds, it was expected. However, you had recently become aware that your efforts were redundant.

You would have liked to tell Bonnie of your suspicions, but the recent excitement surrounding the Shelby family and their war with the Italians had made it difficult to find the right time. This morning wasn't ideal either as Bonnie reminded you to dress quickly in preparation for the arrival of a visitor.

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

You held Bonnie’s hand tightly as you heard the rumble of a car engine heading down the dirt path toward you, an inconspicuous meeting spot only travelers knew how to find. Bonnie had informed you there would be someone coming to stay in your camp, but he didn’t tell you much else. In truth, that was all he knew himself. So much of his work for the Shelby family was shrouded in mystery. You didn’t like secrets. You and Bonnie had never had kept things from each other and you didn’t intend to start now.

The car came to an abrupt stop directly in front of you and your eyes went wide at the sight of such an expensive automobile. Polly Gray sat in the back seat with a young man in a dapper looking suit and elegantly combed hair. He eyed you suspiciously and you averted your gaze, looking around anxiously before whispering to Bonnie, “Is this the fella we’re waiting for?” He quickly nodded twice before Polly opened the door and exited with a small suitcase.

“My son, Michael,” she said by way of introduction as a young man stood anxiously on the running boards, surveying his surroundings cautiously as he stepped from the car with the assistance of a cane.

Suddenly he shook his head in disagreement. Then in a firm, clear voice he said, “No. No fucking way!” He jerked his gold cigarette case from his pocket as he warned, “I’m getting back in this car.”

Polly rolled her eyes at him and you looked at Bonnie with a confused expression. Michael acted as though it was an imposition on him to be here and not the other way around. His haughty behavior floored you as he argued with his mother about staying in a hotel rather than following your family to camp with the Palmers and the Boswells. From their heated conversation you could tell that he was a wanted man and his life was in grave danger, yet he acted as though it were a trifle.

Aberama stepped in at that moment to reassure him that your family would put up a fight for him if necessary. Polly nodded appreciatively before diving into the bag she had brought with her. “Take your medicine,” she instructed her son. However, he didn’t seem to be listening as he concentrated on his cigarette.

“I’ll take that for you, Polly,” you said helpfully reaching for the brown glass bottle. Turning to Michael you said softly, “The hills will heal you much quicker, you know.”

Tossing his words in Polly’s direction he mumbled, “Fucking witches, the lot of them.”

Bonnie pushed forward, hands clenched by his side as he issued a warning, “Show some respect, Mr. Gray. We’ve agreed to welcome you on account of your blood.” You could tell he wanted to throw a punch after hearing the insult hurled at you, but thought better of it when Polly’s dark eyes met his.

You rushed to your husband’s side, placing a hand on his chest to calm him, then led him away as Polly conversed with her son. As you walked away you heard her remind him to take his medicine once more. Then you watched out of the corner of your eye as she handed him a gun and mentioned something about making a plan. Despite your desire to help the family, something about this newcomer made you shiver. You nuzzled into Bonnie's side and he ran a hand down your back to comfort you.

“Mr. Shelby says it won’t be long,” Aberama said to you and Bonnie. “We'll be returning him before you know it so keep the peace, eh?” He looked Bonnie in the eye as he clamped a hand on his shoulder, a silent assurance, but also a warning not to start trouble.

Bonnie bit the inside of his cheek, a habit he had whenever he disagreed with his father. You gave your husband a small smile as he helped you inside the wagon that would take you back to camp. As Bonnie climbed up front with his father, you snuck a glance at your visitor who had seated himself opposite you in the back of the wagon. He leaned against the side, stretching out his bad leg as he closed his eyes in repose.

“Michael?” you asked hesitantly.He grunted in reply and you decided to continue. If he was going to be joining you for any length of time it would be useful to build a good relationship now, you thought. “Even if you’d rather not admit it, you belong here with us and you know it.”

Michael’s eyes flicked open suddenly as he sat up and looked at you with hatred, “Fucking what?”

You gulped as he stared you down, wondering if it was possible he didn’t know his lineage. “Aren’t you aware of your grandmother, Birdie?”

“What are you on about?” he asked, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

You searched his eyes, realizing he had no idea who you were talking about. That’s when you decided to inform him, hoping it would make him feel more welcome. “Birdie Boswell was a gypsy princess,” you said with a note of reverence.

Rolling his eyes, Michael scoffed, “Well I don’t believe in that stuff.”

“Don’t have to. Up in them mountains, you’re royalty,” you replied matter-of-factly. You looked down at your hands nervously. You couldn’t understand why he was so rude and unfriendly. He was completely different from Polly. “I-I just wanted you to know that we’ll take good care of you. We always take care of our own,” you added quietly. The rest of the ride was spent in silence. Bonnie came back to join you and you leaned into him for support as the terrain became more uneven. The wagon pitched you back and forth and he held you tightly, keeping you from Michael’s side of the vardo as much as possible. You could tell your husband didn’t trust this man.

It was evening when you arrived in camp. The stars were mapped out brightly in the sky and a crescent moon hung above the roaring fire your father had made to keep everyone warm. As Michael was shown where he would be sleeping, you brought a plate to your husband.

“Thank you, dove. Not hungry?” he asked, trying to offer you some of his food, but you declined. The events of the day were still weighing heavily on your mind. As he sat down to eat, you joined your father on the other side of the campfire. Bonnie waved, "Evenin Johnny."

As you approached, you furrowed your brow. Your father knew something was on your mind, but he avoided your gaze, unwilling to discuss your visitor until you asked him first. “Da, I don’t understand,” you began, watching your father stoke the fire.

“What’s there to know?” he asked and suddenly you knew you shouldn’t be asking. However, your curiosity had gotten the better of you.

“He doesn’t want to be here,” you stressed.

“Well, it’s not his decision. It comes from the Shelbys,” your father replied, shoving his hands in his pockets

“Aye, he’s a Gray and he’s kin to the Shelbys, but he doesn’t know the first thing about where he comes from. Told me so today. Why is that?” you prodded.

Johnny let out a long, deep sigh and sucked his teeth while considering whether or not to tell you what had happened so many years ago. Was it worth mentioning now? In the end, he realized he had no choice. Michael’s demeanor was very different from anyone else in the family. You'd already noticed he didn't belong.

“Michael doesn’t know about himself because Polly didn’t raise him,” he said, looking up at the moon. He felt ashamed for having revealed the secret.

“He lived with his father then?” you inquired.

“No!” Your father called out to the sky. You wondered if you should be quiet. Perhaps asking these questions was forbidden somehow based on the agreement he had with the Shelbys, but he continued. “The parish authorities took him away when he was small. Him and his sister, but Tommy brought him back a year ago to work in the family business," he explained in a hushed tone.

“And now people want to kill him because people want to kill Tommy?” you added.

Your father grunted an affirmative reply as you sat in amazement. A boy who had grown up without his family only to return years later. And a criminal family nonetheless. How jarring that must have been for him. You suddenly understood his confusion and anger at having been sent to a gypsy camp he knew nothing about. You vowed to keep trying with the man who was around the same age as you and Bonnie. You felt it was the least you could do for someone who had had such a difficult life.

——————————————————

Three days later, you plucked clothes off the line and turned just in time to see Micheal exit his vardo. You crossed to greet him and hand him a freshly washed shirt.

“Good morning, Michael. Thought you’d like to know, we leave tomorrow,” you informed him.

He looked at you quizzically. "I thought we were staying on another night."

“We follow the patron and the crows. And as your mum said, it’s safer for you to keep moving so your enemies can’t find you,” you explained, although you weren’t sure he was listening.

Moving toward the pot placed over the fire, you removed the lid and stirred the stew that had been cooking there. “Are you hungry?” you inquired.

“What is it, fucking hedgehog again?” he asked disdainfully, taking a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it. You’d noticed he often preferred smoking to eating, but you still urged him to take a few bites to aid his recovery.

You continued ladling out a generous portion of stew into a bowl with a smile. “No, it's rabbit stew today. You’re in luck, Bonnie caught a buck,” you said extending the bowl, hoping to entice him.

“So?” he asked, not understanding your meaning.

“Buck’s taste better,” you explained patiently, offering him the meal once more.

He took it from you hesitantly, keeping an eye on you at all times.

“You don’t have to fear us, you know. We’re not bad people,” you said, coming to rest beside him.

“Didn’t say you were,” he grumbled, picking at the stew.

As Michael ate, you noticed the sun disappear and the wind begin to pick up. You sensed a storm approaching and you began to shiver involuntarily. Wrapping your shawl around your shoulders to stay warm, you tried to take in a deep breath the way Bonnie reminded you to do when he was away from you. He said it would help focus your mind on something besides your fear of the bad weather.

Just then Bonnie arrived with an armful of firewood. He glanced at you with sympathetic eyes before looking up to assess the clouds rolling in overhead. “Y/n, dove, go inside. Michael can help me clean up out here,” he promised.

“M eating,” Micheal mumbled without looking up from where he sat. “Besides, that’s women’s work,” he said jerking his chin toward the clothes line and the empty plates.

You noticed Bonnie's whole body tense at Michael’s words, hands curling tightly around the firewood he held. He had tried to be civil after Aberama's warning, but it had been difficult the past few days. Michael refused to do any chores. While his injuries prevented him from doing men’s work like lifting and chopping firewood, there was plenty of work he was capable of and chose not to do which bothered everyone, but couldn't be said aloud. Bonnie knew a thing or two about working while injured and had complained to you that he felt Michael was capable of more than sitting by the fire day in and day out.

You gave your husband a pleading look to remind him Michael was an important guest and Bonnie took a deep breath before he answered with an impatient toss of his head, “The work goes faster if we all help.”

Michael snorted stealing a glance at you, “Can’t your fucking witch say a spell and be done with it?” You froze at his sharp tongue and gulped waiting for Bonnie’s reaction, knowing your husband wouldn't stand for Michael talking about you that way a second time.

Bonnie dropped the kindling where he stood and stalked toward Michael. Grabbing him by the lapels of his coat he hissed, “My wife has cleaned your clothes, cooked for you and served you. How dare you disrespect her?” You could hear the anger rising in his throat as he spoke. “You want to stay here under our protection, now you have to earn it. Fight me,” he challenged, throwing Michael away and beginning to remove his shirt as the thunder rumbled overhead.

"Bonnie!" you called out to him, feeling a soft rain begin to fall all around you.

“No, I’ve no problem with that,” Michael interrupted, pushing his overcoat from his shoulders. “Didn’t want to be here in the first place with a bunch of fucking gypsies,” he spat.

Stretching his neck and cracking his knuckles, he assessed your husband carefully. He wondered if he had any chance at all with a professional boxer especially one with a personal grievance against him. However, he would not back down from a challenge. He was too stubborn.

As the men began to circle one another a deafening crack of thunder broke the silence. You knew your father would be angry with you and Bonnie if something happened to Michael, but there was nothing you could do to stop the fighting now. You heard Michael grunt as Bonnie landed the first punch to his gut. It sounded painful as he wheezed out an aching breath. Then suddenly you heard your husband wince and you looked up to see him jerk his head back, licking a bad cut to his lower lip. Blood ran down his chin as the first sliver of lightning illuminated the sky behind him. He nodded at you assuring you it would be alright, but for the first time, you were scared.

As you looked over at Micheal, you saw a gleam of pure devilment in his eye and you wondered if he was actually enjoying this. He ran at Bonnie again with brute force and it dawned on you that while your husband had the training and skill, Michael had the advantage of his wild anger and hatred. It was a force more powerful than you had originally realized and you shook violently as the fear of the confrontation in the sky and on the ground hit you fully. You shrieked as you realized Micheal had produced a knife from some hidden place and Bonnie’s fist came up swiftly to block Micheal’s wrist. The blade was mere inches from your dear husband’s face and you screamed, not recognizing the sound as it ripped from your throat.

“Christ almighty, what do you boys think you’re doing!” your father cried, rushing toward them. Michael’s eyes, wide with fear froze in that moment, his hand suspended over Bonnie. As Johnny rushed him, he dropped the knife to the ground and as it hit the dirt below, his trance was broken. You watched him stumble backwards, affecting a limp once more as he went to sit on a nearby log as the rain began to pour down upon you.

“Does one of you want to tell me what the fuck this is all about?” your father asked, looking back and forth between Michael and Bonnie. Then his gaze shifted toward you and his face fell, realizing the quarrel had started over you. You looked at him with wide eyes and somehow managed to nod you were alright before hanging your head shamefully. You hated for him to worry though you knew he would no matter what.

With that small bit of reassurance, he began again more softly, addressing his son-in-law. “Bonnie, no matter what’s happened, it ends now. Do you understand? Polly will have my balls if that boy doesn’t come home safe.”

Bonnie clenched his jaw tightly as he glared in Michael’s direction.

“Bonnie, did you hear what I said, lad?” Johnny asked more firmly.

“Aye, I did,” Bonnie replied with a loud sigh. He knew better than to question your father. He moved to offer a hand to you and you clung to him as the lightning illuminated the sky. Bonnie led you to your vardo and you entered without speaking, looking between you both at your soaked clothing.

Bonnie sat on your bed with a plop and you retrieved a flannel, dipping it in a bucket of cool water before bringing it to him. As you ran it over his face, cleaning his lip and chin he grasped your wrist. “M sorry, dove. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

You shook your head. “You didn’t. It’s alright,” you said softly, as reassuring as you could muster. You continued to clean his wound gently as Bonnie fixed his eyes on the wall.

“He’s arrogant,” Bonnie said, beads of water dripping down his tightly clenched jawline.

“Camp is unfamiliar to him. He’s trying to act brave,” you countered. You discarded the cloth and removed your boots and wet cardigan, crawling into bed behind your husband and wrapping your arms around his waist. Leaning your cheek against his back, you felt his warmth radiate through you as you listened to the steady rhythm of his heart, albeit a bit quickened under the stress. You closed your eyes and breathed deeply, hoping it would calm him. After a few breaths, he steadied under your touch.

“He’ll be gone soon and then life will be as it was,” he promised, placing his large hand over yours and giving you a gentle squeeze.

You nodded against him, knowing he didn’t like the intrusion anymore than you did.

Hesitating a moment, you began slowly, “He doesn’t know where he comes from, Bon. He doesn’t realize he’s just like us.”

“Even if he did, he’d just reject it. Thinks he’s so much better,” Bonnie said with a shake of his head.

You rubbed a hand down Bonnie’s arm soothingly as you said, “He’s Polly’s son. No matter what he does, you swore to protect him, remember?”

“Not when he treats you the way he did today,” Bonnie said, voice strained with emotion.

You moved to straddle him and took his face between your palms. “Bonnie,” you said softly, making him look you in the eyes, “I know he made you angry, but he’s a lost soul. And if it were our child. I’d want someone to look after him. That’s why I’ve been trying so hard to help him find his way.”

You guided Bonnie’s hand to your stomach and bit your lip, gulping as a harsh clap of thunder boomed overhead.

“It’s storming, y/n,” he observed, eyes watching you anxiously.

“I know,” you replied hesitantly. “But I’m not scared anymore. Can’t be frightened when I have this little one to protect,” you explained.

The lightning outside your window illuminated the vardo and you saw a flash of recognition in Bonnie’s brown eyes. You watched tears gather as he stroked your abdomen slowly with his thumb, a look of awe and disbelief washing over him as he stared at your belly.

Bonnie leaned forward, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, unable to break from you in his urgency until you finally pulled away for much needed breath.

You sat back admiring his flushed cheeks, stroking your fingertips along his cheek as you asked, “You’re happy then?”

“Course I am, little dove,” he said, a tear falling down his cheek in unreserved emotion. “Can’t believe how strong you’ve become. You’re going to be a wonderful mother, you know,” he said staring deeply into your eyes.

“I hope so,” you whispered as you pressed your forehead to his. “We’ll weather the storm together, won’t we?” you asked, brushing your nose against his.

“Of course, we will, my darlin’,” Bonnie replied, lifting you up and placing you on the bed with ease. You smiled as he came to rest beside you, your Bonnie there to watch over you as the wind and rain pelted the side of the caravan. However, you had no need to fear it any longer.

———————————————

The next morning as Bonnie kissed you goodbye at the doorway, you worried for your growing family. Your husband had confided that today they were going to plan strategy against the Changrettas who had sent several men to the area. You also selfishly worried for yourself. With Bonnie gone, it was up to you to look after Michael.

As though he sensed your inner thoughts, Bonnie turned to you before he reached the last step and extended his hand to you. “No matter what happens, it’s you and me, dove,” he reminded you. “We’re going to leave this place and soon enough we’ll have our own little one to worry about instead of a grown man, eh?” he said with a smirk. You had to chuckle at his remark. You felt exactly the same, ready to move beyond the dark shadow the Shelbys had cast over your lives.

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

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@kpopgirlbtssvt

@celticmelody

@theshelbyclan

@bonniesgoldengirl

@amberusso

@cillmequick

@mgcllovdrms

@shelbywhiterose

@l1-l4

@thats-what-cill-said

@dreamlandcreations

#Peaky Blinders fanfic #Peaky Blinders imagine #Bonnie Gold fanfic #Bonnie Gold imagine #Bonnie Gold x you #Bonnie Gold x y/n #Bonnie Gold x reader #Michael Gray fanfic #Michael Gray x imagine #Michael Gray x y/n #Michael Gray x reader #Michael Gray x you

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shiorimakibawrites · 2 months

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Idea: A Brand New Ending (Kin)

This is my rough notes for this fic. Subject to change. Any suggestions or input you would like to contribute are welcome.

Probably spoilers for Kin

(tagging @bellaxgiornata and any other Kin fic writers out there)

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader

Title comes a quote of uncertain origin: No one can go back and make a brand new start, but anyone can start from now and make a brand new ending.

You are half-Irish on your mother’s side.

When you were young, your parents died suddenly. You were taken in by your aunt and uncle who lived in Dublin, a couple houses down from Michael and his family.

AUNT and UNCLE can’t have kids and treat you like their own daughter.

Uncertain if your aunt and uncle are involved in the Kinsella criminal organization or not.

You are at least one year below Michael in school and develop a crush on the older boy. These feelings are returned and eventually you start dating. At some point, you give your virginity to Michael.

Something breaks you apart –

(1) AUNT and UNCLE either don’t approve of your relationship with Michael and/or having sex outside of marriage, and decided to move away to keep you away from this boy and his bad influence – maybe there was a pregnancy scare or an actual pregnancy but you ended up miscarrying.

(2) They find out about Bren’s disgusting habits toward young girls – maybe he molests you – and UNCLE and AUNT move away from Dublin to protect you from Bren (doesn’t trust the police in this matter for whatever reason – either they are criminals too or just thinks Bren has connections that would get him off).

Has sporadic contact with Michael afterward but the timing never seems right.

He is either having an affair with his brother’s wife or has gotten married to WIFE and has a little girl or is in prison for accidentally killing his wife.

You try to move on but your romantic relationships are all disasters in some way. Some better (perfectly nice guy but you are hilariously incompatible) than others (at least one was abusive)

Sometime during Season 1, you run into Michael again. One thing leads to another. In the morning, you are naked in his bed. Part of you wants to stay but something important comes up and you must dash off

Maybe AUNT or UNCLE has an emergency – become very ill or fell and broke their hip or had a stroke or a heart attack. Something very serious that eats up your attention for a while.

When you start getting sick, you think its stress. It’s not. Either by condom failure or birth control failure, you find yourself pregnant (again?). You know Michael is the father – you haven’t had sex with anyone else in over a year.

You try to tell Michael but ended up intercepted by Amanda. Who acts like herself and convinces you don’t really mean anything to Michael (“He just got out of prison. He’d fuck anyone.”) and certainly doesn’t want anything to do with child you are carrying.

Maybe its stress or hormone or anxiety or your self-esteem being in the toilet but you believe her lies and return home in tears.

You refuse to tell AUNT or UNCLE who the father is but all or most of the pregnancy but they eventually learn it.

Michael finds out when

(1) AUNT or UNCLE goes down to Dublin themselves to tell Michael off for his treatment of their niece. Michael is understandably confused, then gobsmacked.

(2) AUNT or UNCLE has some kind of relationship with Birdie and complains to her.

Maybe Birdie saw your conversation with Amanda – close enough to know she said something that had you running away in tears but not close enough to hear what was said. Maybe tried asking Amanda about it but obviously not cooperative, might be self-righteous about running off the interloper (you).

Not sure if he finds when you are still pregnant or shortly after giving birth to the twins. Yes, twins – a boy and a girl.

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rius-cave · 3 days

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Browsing ao3 I’ve found two fics (so far) that play with the idea of Adam and Eve being the same person (effectively making them a single parent). And I think the character study of canon!Adam in this situation is very interesting, but I’m also fascinated with the concept of him maintaining a more eden-style personality (I.e being a lot softer and kinder), especially if Cain is Lucifer’s kid. And while Lucifer doesn’t know Eve = Adam (or that he even HAS a kid), the other angels absolutely lose their shit, especially Sera. Side note; Lucifer might not have discovered Lilith’s cruelty towards Adam until canon time, but Sera definitely knows. She became very protective of Adam after Lilith and Lucifer were banished, and she’s taking the whole ‘tricked into eating the apple and also knocked up’ situation very personally. Learning that Adam will be protected from hell is a very bitter consolation to the fact he won’t be allowed any contact with heaven either.

I think, to try and neutralise the devil’s spawn situation, another angel will place some of their heavenly grace inside of the womb to negate the hellish influence. This…doesn’t quite work how they imagined. May I present to you; Cain, Son of Lucifer, and Abel, Son of Michael (I like the parallels and irony).

Sorry, I feel like I'm missing some context from this because I'm having a hard time grasping the concept of "Adam is also Eve"... And how does that even work in general? Adam gets pregnant, is what you're saying???? And then Michael gives him a second child and that's Abel? I think I'm getting that right

That is... Pretty fascinating, that's very out there LOL

#hazbin hotel #adam #ask

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kiwisbell · 8 months

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The Hitman's Guide to Getting the Girl: Chapter 6 [dave york x f!reader]

It's just another job, until Dave York decides to kidnap an enemy’s wiseass daughter. It’s just another job, until he falls in love.

series masterlist

status: complete

chapter 6 summary: Encouraging bad habits.

pairing: dave york x f!reader

rating: 18+ (mdni)

tags and warnings for entire fic: kidnapping, murder, violence, the world being horrible to women, reader having a very terrible sense of self-preservation, unprotected piv, oral sex (m and f receiving), dave york finding his second calling as a pussy-eating god, pining, possessive sex, jealousy, daddy issues, (stockholm syndrome?), dirty talk, actually filthy talk, hitmen and politicians, revenge, scary man with a soft spot for his woman, philosophical foreplay, tramp stamp worship (you'll see), a little sprinkle of breeding kink if you look hard enough, obsessive behaviour, anal fingering, anal sex, implied age gap, light dom/sub vibes, light bondage

tags and warnings for this chapter: possessive behaviour, sex while on the phone, dave york is still a munch, protective dave, dirty talk, soft dave, a lot of sex and then a lot of sappiness, light anal play, unprotected piv (seriously do not follow my lead), creampie, biting, sex on a desk, very slight free use kink

word count: ~ 4.7k

chapter 6: fuel the pyre of your enemies

AUGUST

On the top left corner of his desk, scrawled on a pink Post-it note, Dave keeps a list of the men who have kidnapped you. He crosses off their names when they are dead.

He also crosses off their names when they are financially destitute, their families turn on them, and/or they are paranoid for their lives. This is because he does not want anything to be traced back to you. If suspicion turns to him, which it will not, he counts on the cops in his pocket.

Whether they die or live has little strategic value. It merely depends on Dave’s mood that day. Or, in many cases, how severely they appear to regret their choices.

Robert Shipman.

Hansen McCarthy.

Norman Beretta.

George Reilly.

Lawrence Dare.

Bernard Flint.

John Fisher.

Hammond Fisher (no relation).

Ali Riggs.

Michael Fredericks.

Patrick Ulrich.

Oliver Goodman (irony not lost).

Kendrick Vears.

Michael Juarez.

Gregory Cochran.

Vincent Gallo.

He's getting close now. By tonight, Cochran will be caught on sixty-eight counts of child pornography. The bastard won’t survive prison. Dave will let the other prisoners take out their frustrations on him.

He hasn't been able to track down Gallo quite yet. Chances are, he’s fled back to Florence to conduct business from the relative safety of his home. Not that an ocean will be enough to save his life. Dave has Kovac and Ari looking into it.

As for the final name on the list—

Dave York.

—he hasn't figured that one out yet.

For now, it's business as usual. But his fingers flex and his eyes flicker repeatedly toward the door. He’s missing his girl.

A soft knock on the door heralds your entry, and of course you can read his mind. You’ve been away all day, taking calls from your publicist and your agent and even your stylist, who is already brainstorming for your Met Gala appearance next year. You've been assuaging concerns regarding your need for a security detail, conducting the typical damage control (no, you are not pregnant, and no, you are not on drugs), and talking far too much about your own appearance for one afternoon.

You step inside Dave’s office and close the door gently behind you, miming bashing your head against the wall. Dave watches you and tries not to laugh while on the line with a client.

You're a vision in your little skirt and your glimmering diamond ring. Your eyes are tired and heavy, but you smile when you see him and let your shoulders sink a little. He’s got an earpiece in and a pen at his lips, chewing up the end. At least he isn't smoking.

You hold up a dry-erase board, on which you've scrawled the word: MEETING?

Dave nods, and you pout, padding into the office. He mocks your pout, holding out his hand to invite you into his arms. You settle on his lap, straddling his hips as he leans back and idly caresses your thighs.

You aren't one to just sit and stay silent. You fondle the buttons of his dress shirt, popping them out from the top down. Dave watches you the whole time, brows lifted in idle warning while he continues to listen to his client drone on. Your eyes trace his hard chest, opening up the planes of his body for you to map. When the last button is undone, you push open the edges of his shirt and curve your body up against his, your lips finding a home beneath his jawline.

You feel it flex against you as you nibble, rubbing your nose against his strong jaw as if you want to impart your scent to him. Dave’s hand slides to your back, his pinky slipping beneath the hem of your skirt and tracing the shape of your tattoo.

“Think of it like an exercise in discretion, Sam,” he says, dropping his skull back against the chair’s headrest to give you better access. You take advantage, playfully biting his neck like his own personal vampire. He bares his teeth, slipping his hand down your skirt and pinching your ass in retribution.

“You ensure everyone is out of the building, my team install the equipment, and you spend the rest of your career spying happily on your employees. Yes, I’ll need your signature and half the payment up-front. No, I won't take twenty-five per cent.” Dave scribbles a number on a piece of paper behind you as he traces your spine with his fingers, up and down and back again. “That's not my concern. I don't make a habit of building relationships with my clients.” Dave gives you a knowing look, and you suppress your laugh in his throat, grazing your teeth along his artery.

He squeezes your hip hard. “No. We’re done for today. My assistant will send you a copy of the forms. Yes, discreetly.”

He hangs up, practically wrenching out his earpiece, and gives his full attention to you, his hands sliding up your back beneath your sweater. “Hey, baby,” he says, gently tugging your head back by your jaw so he can kiss you properly. “So pretty today.”

“Mmm. You don't have an assistant.” Grinning against his mouth, you find your way down to his belt, the softness of his stomach and the trail of hair leading down to your destination so enticing you can't wait.

Dave grunts when you unbuckle his belt, breaking the kiss to nip your chin. “You're bad for business,” he grumbles.

“I am business,” you point out, sliding the belt out of the loops and draping it around your neck. “And we need to discuss some things, Mr. York.”

“You aren't business,” he says, his mouth curving down in a grumpy pout as he brushes your hair away from your face. “You’re my fucking wife.”

“Not yet,” you tease.

“Soon enough that it doesn't matter.” Slowly, his thumbs make circles over the place where your hips meet your thighs. He knows it can make you melt. “Tell me.”

You beam, biting down on your lower lip. “I’m your wife, Dave York. God help anyone who says otherwise.”

He hums, apparently satisfied, bringing himself toward you and kissing you deeply. His strong, muscled arm curves around your waist and his palm presses into your lower back. “This colour on you,” he murmurs, his mouth travelling from your mouth to your jaw. “So beautiful.”

“You say that when I wear pink, and green, and blue, and—”

“We both know it's just you.” Dave lifts the hem of your sweater up over your head and helps you out of it. He surges up against you and resumes the kiss, his erection bumping your clit through your underwear. “Too pretty for your own good.”

You gasp, grinding down into him, fumbling with the button on his pants as desire turns your vision hazy. “Dave,” you plead, looking down at him, nearly cross-eyed from how close your noses are to touching. “Please…”

“Want me to make you feel better, sweet girl?” he asks, whisper-soft, the brush of a velvet blanket over your bare skin. “I’ve been neglecting you all day. Like a bad man.”

“I like you bad,” you tell him, nudging your nose against his. “I even like you nice.”

Dave bucks his hips and your eyes flutter shut at the delicious pressure against your clit. “Like when I make you squirm?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I like it a lot.”

“Bend over my desk, baby. You know the drill.”

Business can wait.

You slide off his lap and turn around, lowering your upper half to his desk and wiggling your ass at him. Dave shucks up the hem of your skirt and teases his thumb over your clothed pussy. “Wet already,” he muses. “You wear blue just for me?”

“Take them off and see for yourself,” you pant.

“Don't make it easy on me,” he coos, his cool, rough palm scorching your ass even in its gentle path across your backside. “I think I’ll take you just like this.”

You feel his fingers slip under your panties and shift them away from your pussy, baring you to a cool gust of air. “Fuck,” you rasp, your back arching. “Like this?”

“Yeah, pretty girl. Like that.” He keeps your panties askew, two fingers sliding between your wet folds. “Spread your legs.”

You do, shifting your thighs apart. Dave hums in satisfaction. “That's it. She does know how to listen.”

“Oh, you’re so full of it,” you say breathlessly. Beside you, a cell phone begins to trill.

Dave stops feeling you up to pick up your phone, lifting his brows at the screen. “Full of it, huh? Is that right?” He places the phone next to you, draping his body over yours to whisper in your ear. “Answer it,” he demands.

You freeze, your body alive with electricity. “Dave?” you squeak, seeing the caller ID on the screen. “What—”

Apparently feeling impatient, Dave presses the Answer button and puts Victor Brock on speakerphone. You crane your head to glare at Dave when your betrothed-to-be says your name.

“Victor, hi,” you chirp, feeling the weight of Dave’s body leave you. Still, you're pinned down by your hips. “How are you?”

So polite, he thinks. Such a sweet sound from that mouth. He feels pride swell inside him as he sinks to his knees behind you. You'd be such a good wife to Senator Brock, if you obeyed your father’s wishes.

It's too fucking bad you’re already spoken for.

You and Victor trade pleasantries, but because he's a complete asshole, Dave waits until the conversation truly begins to spread you wide and put his mouth on your pussy.

“I was hoping we could discuss the wedding,” says Victor. His tone suggests otherwise.

“Of course we can,” you say pointedly, a little loudly, as if you're giving Dave one last opportunity to behave.

Fat chance.

“My mother wants a fall wedding,” says Brock, “inside a church.”

You slap your hand over your mouth to stifle your helpless whimper when you feel his hot, wet tongue lick between your folds, slathering his saliva on your clit. “Mmmhmm,” you say as nonchalantly as possible, slamming your hand down on the desk and squeezing your eyes shut. “And what… what do you want, Victor?”

“Are you all right? You sound out of breath.”

“Oh, God,” you gasp as Dave sucks your clit between his lips. “God, no. Just got back from a run. I’m fine.”

Oh, you're fine, are you? Dave will have to rectify that.

“Churches get a little warm,” says Brock. “Maybe we should take it outside.”

“That sounds—mm!” Dave’s tongue flicks over your clit repeatedly, his fingers digging mercilessly into your thighs. “Sorry. I… stubbed my toe.”

The man underneath you continues to eat you out like you're a drink of water and he's been stumbling through the desert for days. Oh, you're going to get him for this.

“I can call you back,” offers Brock.

Dave takes that moment to bring his palm down in a passing smack to your ass. “No!” you cry out. “No, it’s fine. We—we should keep going. Please keep going.”

Dave smirks, licking your clit and spreading you open with his rough fingers, his index tucked under the lace of your panties to keep them in place. Your thighs are trembling, your breathing going shallow, and you're trying ever harder to sound like nothing is amiss.

You and Victor—well, mostly Victor—discuss the merits of an outdoor wedding, piano player or DJ, flowers or candles, while Dave’s face is buried in your pussy. Your wetness mixes with his saliva, his brain buzzing with the feel and taste and smell of you, your thighs slick with sweat and your hands grasping uselessly for a way to hold on. You're going to come apart under his tongue while on the phone with your impending fiancé.

But not before you dip into your sleeve and find a trick of your own.

“Victor, have you thought at all about the honeymoon?” you ask coyly.

Hands squeeze your thighs hard and a faint growling noise emits from the mouth suctioned to your clit. Dave pulls away and stands up, pressing End Call with such ferocity you’d think your cell phone called him a crude name.

“You think you’re funny?”

You giggle, pushing your ass against him. You're still needy, after all. “You think you're funny, pulling that stunt. Why shouldn't I have fun, too?”

“You can have fun all you want, baby.” Dave smacks your ass. “As long as it's with me.”

He reaches into his pants and pulls out his cock, steel-hard and too heavy in his hand. It’ll feel better in your pussy, anyway. When he guides himself to your tight hole, you mewl, burying your face in your elbow. He's not even inside you and you're already weeping for him.

Your hand snakes down your body to swipe your fingers over your clit, and Dave is surprised to see a spurt of precum bead on your pussy. Something about your desperation has him splitting you open on his dick, wasting no time as he pushes past the tight seal of your cunt and disappears inside you down to his balls. You sob with relief, your fingers leaving your clit to clutch onto Dave’s hip from behind, keeping him fixed to you, unmoving.

It lights fireworks in his ears. The world crackles around him. You're so fucking warm and wet that his vision whites out. “Jesus. Fucking… fucking dirty girl,” he says through his teeth. “You belong here. Bent over my desk, taking what I give you.”

You squeeze his length tight enough to make him feel like he's choking on air. “Dave.”

He pulls out halfway only to thrust hard, jolting your hips against the edge of the desk. You sob his name again, and Dave wraps a hand around the back of your neck. “Such a pretty sight. I should just keep you here. My beautiful wife spread open for me whenever I need some relief.”

It's so filthy. It burns on your cheeks, tingles at the tips of your fingers. It's so… good. His hand on your neck, his cock buried in your pussy, treating you like a toy that's upset him. Your body flushes with arousal and a loud moan slips from your mouth as Dave begins to fuck you hard, punching his hips against your ass.

The squelching noises of your coupling send your head spinning. Your chest is slick with sweat, slipping along the desk with every thrust and fleeing farther from him. He does not like that—he scoops his arm under your body and fixes you to him, bending over your body and humping you like an animal.

You bite down on your own arm to muffle your scream. Your knees give out and your stomach tightens as the hand at the back of your neck slides down to your ass. Dave’s mouth imprints a wet kiss at the junction of your neck and shoulder, his voice like thunder, like blood pounding in your ears. “Tell me,” he says. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Your fingers curl uselessly against the desk as you try to hold on. “I… oh, God, it feels so good.” It’s whiny and pathetic, but he groans into your throat, nipping the skin as if he’s trying to break through—as if he’s trying to possess the whole of you.

“What else?” he demands.

“You’re so—ngh! You’re so big!” His hips grind hard against your ass and stars burst behind your eyes. You’re so close to coming that your words slur into one another, gasping heaves from your smothered chest.

Dave isn’t much better off. His back pinches with the pleasure of being inside you, his arousal building past a rolling boil and his teeth sinking into your throat to give himself somewhere to put it. It isn’t sweet. It’s sweaty, animalistic sex, and it’s the gnashing teeth of love that punctures you both.

He gets sloppier the more he fucks you, his mouth leaving wet kisses along your back. You keen underneath him, your back arching and your ass insistently pushing against his hips. To answer your implicit pleas, he presses the pad of his thumb to your puckered asshole.

“Oh, fuck!” you squeak, trying to close your legs as the pleasure notches up high and threatens to overwhelm your body. He isn’t letting you, keeping them kicked apart with his strong thighs. Tears wet your cheeks and your mascara runs. Dave York will destroy you. And you’re going to let him.

“So tight,” says Dave, massaging your asshole with his thumb as tremors begin to buck your body against him. “Have you ever been taken here? Have you let some other man use what’s mine?”

You choke, swallowing down his words and feeling them clog your throat. “No,” you whimper, the sound sticky between your lips. “Never.”

“Would you let me?” he coos, bumping his nose into your throat.

You nod your head so vigorously your chin knocks into the mahogany. “Yes,” you gasp, your voice surprisingly clear even as white-hot static envelops your brain. “Yes, I’d let you. I’d let you do anything. You’d be so good to me. I love you, baby. I’m in love with you.”

The gruff sound he makes at your babbling reverberates inside your rib cage, batters against the membrane of your heart. Cavitation. The final flap of wings before the fall begins.

At the very same time, your orgasms wreck your bodies. You hold onto his hip, keeping him inside you as your cunt sucks him deep, pulsing around his length with every wave you ride. Bucking helplessly into him, you cry out, a small spurt of juices splashing onto the wood underneath and the body behind you.

Dave collapses on top of your body as he comes, his balls pulling up and pumping, pumping, pumping. He bites you again, this time on your shoulder, seizing from the pleasure while he dumps his hot cum inside of you. Instinctively, he tries to push deeper; your sweat and your perfume and your hormones blind him from any reason, any thought besides burying himself in the warmth of your body.

Faintly, he hears his name, and he realises he’s crushing you under his weight. “I’m sorry, baby,” he says, hauling himself upright and squeezing your ass as he readies to pull out.

“No,” you croak, still grasping his hip. “Stay inside me. Just for a minute.”

He feels his bones settle. He can do that.

“Your back will hurt tomorrow,” you point out.

He idly caresses your lower back. Muscle memory. Knowing your body better than he knows himself most days. “I promise I won’t blame you.”

You giggle, a pleasant fog descending from the ceiling of your brain. “We have an important date tomorrow, Dave. You gonna need a massage?”

“I wouldn't say no,” he teases, tracing the left wing of your tattoo. “But we have work to do.”

You groan, in the mood to complain now that you've been satiated. Why should you have to work at all when you're so sleepy and comfortable, your man’s cock buried inside you? Dave chuckles at your petulance and gives your ass a playful smack. “C’mon, sweet girl. We’ll sit out by the pool.”

Your ears perk up at that, beaming at him over your shoulder. Dave’s cock gives one last feeble pulse inside you at the sight before he pulls out of you. You immediately buckle, slowly lifting your upper half off the desk and bracing your hands on the edge. Dave kisses his way across your back, blowing cool air onto your neck and making you laugh, ticklish.

“Is this a good time to tell you that I’d love a summer wedding?”

Dave hums, grinning against your skin. “I know you would. And pink roses. White daisies. A grand piano and taper candles.”

You turn in his arms and pin him with a glare, though you're sure it's inoffensive. “You read my binder.”

“Baby, it's a beautiful binder,” says Dave, smoothing your skirt back down over your ass. “I have no notes.”

“Good. Because I’ve already started working with an organiser,” you chirp, threading your fingers through his. “I’m going swimming. You can come outside with me.”

“I’ll be right there,” he says, kissing your forehead.

Wrong answer. You lead him toward the door and give him a look that makes him feel like following a siren to his demise. “I’m not going to bother with a swimsuit,” you add.

It’s easy to make him forget about business. Dave follows you happily, the sailor to the song.

By the night of the gala, two problems are becoming apparent.

One: Dave’s back is killing him.

Two: Vincent Gallo.

In the early afternoon, Dave paced inside his office for an hour as he waited for Ari and Kovac to return. It did not help his back problem, but it helped him map fifteen or so backup plans in his head. A man like Gallo would not get one up on Dave York. After the things he has done, a man like Gallo could hardly call himself a man.

A knock at the door, and Dave barked, “Inside,” not once slowing his pace across the room or removing his fingers from his mouth: a thinking pose you liked to tease him about.

“Boss, we might have something,” says Kovac. “Tracked those bastards back to their hole. Got pictures.”

Dave would look at the images later. He was itching with anticipation. “Where's Gallo?”

Kovac and Ari were used to Dave’s snippy moods, so neither were particularly disappointed. “Not in Chicago,” said Kovac, which was to be expected.

“Italy, then?” Dave guessed. He needed a lead. He needed something.

He did not like a target he could not find.

“You asked me to keep an eye on the Gallos’ books,” said Ari.

“I did.”

“More frequent transfers have been going to Florence and fewer coming here. Not only is he in Italy—”

“—He may be getting desperate,” finished Dave. It was good. It was the something he needed. He had finished jobs on far less than a location. “What about the rest of his family?”

“If they know we're snooping, they haven't made it clear. It’s bad business as usual.”

“Which means, if he comes back to Chicago,” said Dave, “it's because he needs his family’s support. I don't want him to get that support. We need to predict their next moves.”

“Already on it,” said Ari. “Bugged a couple of the guards’ vans during a shift change.”

“By next week, we’ll know what times of day they pick their noses,” said Kovac.

“Good. That’s good.” Dave finally stopped pacing and leaned over his desk. His security system pinged, indicating that another person was on the front doorstep. He looked down and lifted his brows.

Carrying fifteen huge shopping bags in just two hands, you waved at the camera. “Can I please have some help?” you said sweetly. “Honey, are you home?”

Dave, along with an Ari and Kovac who knew better than to weasel out of helping you, relieved you of the bags. Now, you’re trying to choose between two dresses for tonight’s gala while Dave sits on the edge of the bed and watches you.

He has a perfect view of your ass from here while you cock your hip and fold your arms over your chest. You're wearing only a pair of black lacy panties to make trying on your options easier. “Do you really think he’s coming back to Chicago?” you ask.

You've been relatively quiet on the subject until now, but Dave catches the worrying of your bottom lip. “Sweetheart, I’m doubling security tonight, and he wouldn’t try anything even if I weren’t. He has a reputation to keep.”

That word again. Reputation. “That isn't what I’m worried about.”

Dave crosses the room to put his arms around you from behind. “The last thing you need to worry about is me.”

Your head falls back to rest on his shoulder. “I know you’re big and strong,” you begin, twisting his watch around his wrist, “but they’re a family. If one gets hurt, the others will swarm. I don’t want you being the product of someone’s revenge. Not for me.”

He doesn’t quite know how to breach this threshold—to tell you that he will do anything, kill anyone, trudge any path, to keep you. That he has never known selfishness like the press of your body to his. That your brilliant smile justifies each new crime he commits. That remorse cannot fill his heart the way you do.

“Tell me the promise you want me to make,” he says, “and I’ll make it.”

“Promise me that you'll love me enough to stay alive.”

Dave splays his hand over your belly, his lips meeting your jaw in a soft kiss. “You're wrong if you think there’s anything in this world that will take me from you. If you're alive, I’m alive. And if I’m alive…” He nibbles your earlobe and you laugh breathlessly.

“That wasn't a promise.”

Dave kisses your neck, his hand sliding up your sternum. “I…” He squeezes your breast. “… promise.”

“That's better,” you whisper, turning your head to the side to kiss him. “Now—sit down on the bed.”

“Mrs. York,” he teases, grabbing a handful of your ass. “Such a dirty girl.”

“Sit down,” you repeat, turning around and giving him a decent shove square in the chest. It turns him on so much that he obliges without any further teasing.

“Tonight won't be easy on you.” Slipping your panties down your legs, achingly slowly, you peer at him coyly from your corner of the room. Dave instinctively licks his lips. “I think you need to remind yourself who you are.”

Dave eyes your body hungrily. “I know who I am.”

“Is that right?” You approach him slowly, a tiger to its prey.

“Come here.” Dave’s gaze is fixed to your pussy as you prowl closer. He wants to devour you. “Let me show you who I am.”

Your submissive instincts have you folding your hands behind your back, pushing out your chest to give him a good view of your tits, but you manage to stop in your tracks. “Then, I think you should remind yourself who I am.”

Dave lifts his brows, rubbing his fingers over his mouth. “Come. Here.”

You walk toward him as he bunches his sleeves up to his elbows, the lamp’s soft yellow glow rolling over your body with every shift in your movement. “Give me your hand,” he says when you're close enough. You know what he wants; lifting your left hand, you let him put his lips to your diamond ring.

“Tell me what this means,” he demands.

“It means I’m yours.” Clear and resounding. It rolls off your tongue. It's true and assured. “It means only you get to touch me.”

“That's right.” His hand splays over your stomach. “Now tell me who I am.”

“You’re Dave York,” you tell him, whisper-soft now, pressing closer into his space. He ghosts his lips over your belly, a silent encouragement to keep going. “You’re a bad man… and a good one. You’re going to be my husband.” Another hand finds your hip, squeezing, relishing. “You’re Dave. And you’re mine.”

For a moment, when his hands wrap around your thighs and tug your body snug to his, you see blood on his fingers. A faint crimson veneer, sticky and wet, pooling in his lifelines, dribbling down his wrists. But the blood is cool. It does not burn or sting. It soothes. It is a promise. The blood will save you because it will destroy everything else.

“I love you,” says Dave, looking up at you with wide eyes, letting the rareness of the sound peter to a soft echo. “Nothing in this world means shit. Nothing amounts to anything. Everyone just lives and then they die. But you’re my purpose. You’re my meaning. You’re living. I’ve got no use for a world that doesn’t have you.”

You can unpack his nihilistic tendencies later. Now, you beam, threading your fingers through his. You let the blood soak. You let it cleanse.

“Who are you?” you ask softly. His eyes are dark and his lashes spread shadows over his cheekbones.

“I’m Dave York,” he says, resting his chin on your belly, “and I’m yours. ‘Til the fucking stars fall down.”

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