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#bloody baby series
themotherofblood · 5 months
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Omg I love your Bloody Baby series! Could I request like an update where maybe reader is in danger and gets hurt and ends in fluff? If anything I would just love more updates 😭😍🥰
you asked and I deliver :)
warnings: blood!! (duh) major injuries, not very realistic but in fanfic so don’t give me a hard time. just lots of gory blood stuff okay :)
synopsis: Nyra and Daemon go out hunting for The Seven, Nyra gets poisoned and ends up hurting baby (badly!) Daemon saves the day,
masterlist | bloody baby series | vampire au
A/N: I’m in hurt/comfort mood.
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There was nothing, they had been at it for a week— shady fuckers never stayed out long enough to leave a scent.
Daemon had to raise a toast to their religious determination for sure, spending over a millennia hunting them— their kind. Wasn’t an easy task to keep up with a growing population, they had another reason for their relentless search this time. A secret that was hidden so well even they couldn’t find it, a possibility of cure from the last Great Weirwood tree.
A tree that should have burnt when the Night King was taken down, but its own powers saved it. The blasted thing was out there, somewhere far north, even modern technology had not ventured that far out and neither could they.
“There is nothing, two weeks and nothing!” Rhaenyra sighs into the phone.
There was news of a deal being struck at a very special kind of apothecary, and if the Seven pokes their heads out now, when they are more exposed then ever. It would have been for a damn good reason.
“We should head home, lingering will do us no good.” Daemon hummed, circling the hotel room where his enemies laid in.
Rhaenyra hums on the other end, a faint sound a zipper rumbles on the other end before she speak again.
“Be careful my love.”
“Always.”
Rhaenyra let go of her phone, picking up her bags to carry them to her car. She missed home, it wasn’t like she could sleep— ever. But she missed the feeling of laying in a soft plush bed with her husband on one end and you in the other. She missed the touch of pure human warmth against her skin, the sound of a beating heart under her.
Her senses however caught a whiff of something else, the deceived tug of something being missing, something looming around the corner bothered her. She froze by the door of the abandoned building, her ears hearing everything from miles away, cars, motorbikes, children crying and a dog howling. Nothing went unheard, just like the distant sound of a thudding heart. Very prominent by the second.
Out of the blue, a hooded man comes at her, too powerful for human but not quite quick enough as she dodges his blow, grunting as she whacks her bag against the side of this man. From behind her, the sounds of gunfire echo, pointed wooden bullets lodge themselves into her back.
Motherfuc—
Painful, effective but not enough to take down a vampire of her calibre. She reaches down to duck more shots, tearing the heel of her shoes and launching it at the person with the gun. The pointed heel launching itself straight in their neck, blood guzzling out of their mouth as the person fell to the floor twitching, succumbing to death.
The second man still taking his shots at her, pushing her hard against the cement walls of the building.
Rhaenyra’s hand curled around his neck, hoping to tear his head off his shoulders.
The man bares his fangs out wide, snarling before digging into Rhaenyra’s throat, pulling a chuck out in the process.
She screams, kicking the man’s knee so hard it breaks— he falls to the floor grunting. A bloody smile to his face as he accepts that he has no way out.
Rhaenyra huffs before plunging her hand deep into his chest, pulling the his frosted red heart out of its cavity, letting his body grey into nothing.
Pain radiated through Rhaenyra’s body as she reached behind to pull the six wooden bullets out of her back, the wounds small enough to stop bleeding immediately but her throat, it was throbbing in pain.
She had to feed, she had to go home. The wound was healing but she hadn’t feed enough for it to heal entirely of its own. She stumbled out of the building, using a piece of her torn dress to stop the bleeding as she some how managed to speed home. The sheer will of not wanting to kill an innocent took her home, to the vast fridge of blood bags waiting for her.
The car seat she sat on was soaked in blood as she grunted out of her BenZ, she looked up to her castle and suddenly her perspective shifted. She turned behind for a moment, her car no longer there but an ornate carriage. She shook her head hard, this time she saw her car.
With relief she stumbled into the castle, making beeline for the kitchens as quietly as she could, she didn’t want to wake you. She didn’t want you to see her like this— you couldn’t cope from the blood and she knew it.
When she opened the doors to the kitchen, instead of very modern stainless steel appliances she was treated to stone walls, massive pots placed on wooden stoves, the aprons of maids hung by the door. She shook her head once more.
Kitchen— her kitchen
She proceeded to rip open the door into her walk in bridge of all the blood she could want, she reached for the first bag closest to her and took a big swig— her pain dissipating for a moment as she rested her hot head against the ice cold fridge shelf. She took two more swigs before reaching for two more bags and exiting the fridge.
She was once again greeted to a medieval stone kitchen. This time she was terrified
What was happening to her
The open wound on her neck began to rip into her, she screamed in agony as she fell to her knees.
The blood pooling around her in the kitchen, she peeled her eyes open, trying to compose herself enough to call for Daemon.
She was still created by an old kitchen and woman she wished she had killed with her own bare hands.
Few feet from her stood Alicent, a bloody smirk on her face and a stake in her hand.
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You woke up to the sound of crockeries rattling, other than a few security detail outside. No one should be home.
You tried to rub the sleep away from your eyes as a certain excitement filled your chest.
They were home
You happily pulled yourself out of bed, wrapping your fuzzy teal robe around you and taking your water cup along with you as you padded down the cold tiled hallway and down the main stairs.
You heard more thrashes, wondering if it was Rhaenyra and Daemon yet again very passionately professing their love for one another. It seemed a hobby of theirs to completely destroy a room as they fucked away their fill.
What you were met with instead was bloody footsteps, dragging from the main doors headed towards the kitchen. This time you were cautious, reaching for the closest silent alarm in the main foyer and picking up an old heavy candle stand. You know you shouldn’t, you should go upstairs and lock yourself in there until help comes, but then you see more blood—puddles of it leading into the kitchen.
You see a hand poking right out from the kitchen doors, as you turn the corner you see your detail, men dressed in black clothes— dead men dressed in black blood soaked clothes.
One body, two body.
When you move into the kitchen, you hear rustling behind the massive kitchen island. You hold the candle stand with both hands in front of you, ready to swing it at whoever was behind it. As you turn another corner, you find silver hair soaked in blood and a distinct red colour of a dress.
“R-Rhaenyra?” You stuttered, fear losing itself so deep in your bones but also concern as she turns to you.
Then you see it, the hefty chuck on her neck oozing blood as she sucked the blood out of one of the dead men meant to be protecting you.
Her eyes are dark, face stained red with chucks of flesh hanging from her lips.
“Wh—“
“Run.”
“L-Let me help you.” You whimpered.
“D-darling I need you to run.” She cries.
“But”
“I said go away!” She screams at you, eyes red and wild.
Tears pour from your eyes as you hesitate, you begin to walk backwards, everything in you wanting to fix Rhaenyra— to be with her until Daemon returns but as you keep walking back. You foot slips in the puddle of blood and you fall backwards, hitting your head at the edge of the island in the process before splashing into the thick red liquid.
Rhaenyra turns to you once more, she was there one moment and she shook her head again.
This time she charges at you, landing on top of you as you push her face away screaming.
“Rhaenyra please!” You cry out, hoping that she is in there somewhere.
You however were no match to her strength, she easily caught onto your wrist— a little pressure from her end and then throbbing pain shot through your arm.
In the moment of adrenaline, you reached next to you, giving Rhaenyra the perfect aim for your jugular. She bites in as more pain shoots up your spine.
This time you catch onto the jagged candle stand and stab her right through the back, Rhaenyra retreats, sitting over you but you don’t hesitate and plunge your weapon straight to her heart.
Rhaenyra freezes, the veins in her body go blue as she crumbles next you, her body grey and eyes life less.
You had no time to witness what you had done, some how without slipping in the pool of blood again you race out of the kitchen and up the stairs into your room and then your closet. Using your entire body to push a white dresser in front of the door before cowering behind the rack of coats.
The aderaline still coursing through your body, you look at your bent wrists, you cry out— the blood covering you and Rhaenyra.
She wasn’t there but—
You killed her
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Daemon had already been driving home, after collecting some more information from his insiders he too shared the same need to lay in the arms of the two women he loved. The streets were dead enough from him to feel the might of his car’s engine as he blasted music.
What caught him off guard however was the security alarm notification that popped up on his watch, if he wasn’t already flooring the gas he sure was now. Racing to get home, Rhaenyra should have been home by now— that gave his heart some comfort but he sped nonetheless.
What he was greeted with was gruesome, cruel. His eyes were seeing things but he couldn’t process them.
Blood to the kitchen and blood up the stairs.
“Rhaenyra!”
“Y/N!”
He screamed, within a second he was in the kitchen. The room stunk of death, the bodies of his hired detail laid scattered across the floor, and in the pile a head of lovely silver hair stained red.
“Rhaenyra…” he sighed, fingers grazing at the iron candle post in her chest.
He placed her body back down, this listening hard for a faint heartbeat that was very much present. He rushed up to your room to find it empty and thuds of your heart echoing from your closet. He pushed against the barred door, huffing unwanting to scare you any further.
“No…no please.”
He heard your weakened cries as he pushed down the door to find you sitting against your long coats, a shawl pressed up against a heavily bleeding wound and your left wrist bent backwards.
Your lips were nearly blue as weakly cried and stuttered.
“I- I killed her.” You repeated over and over again, refusing to be held by Daemon.
Daemon bit into his wrist, letting blood ooze to the surface before pressing them to you lip, almost forcing the liquid into your mouth as you repeated the same phrase in shock.
You sat against him, letting the vampire blood do its work, Daemon could hear your bones realigning as he soothed you with his hands running down your back and nestling your hair. Once healed he effortlessly lifted your limp body and carried you to the bathroom, he placed you on the sink counter. Letting your body rest against the pink walls as he filled your claw tub with warm water.
If you were conscious enough to see it, it tore him from the inside to see you covered in the blood, the faint marks of your still healing wounds and the lifeless pain behind your eyes. His wife laid temporarily dead in the kitchen that he very lovingly made her breakfast this morning in.
He undid the cuffs of his dress shirt, pulling them up his forearms before gently taking off your night shift, he saw more bruising slowly fading away as he deposited you into the warm water.
The sensation seemed to have shot life back into you as you gasped, you looked up at him wide eyed, with so much pain and concern.
“I’m sorry.” Your eyes pooled “I hurt her, I- kill-“
“She’s fine, she will be fine.” He cooed, pulling the hand shower to wash the blood away from your hair.
His fingertips feeling the head wound shut itself as he washed away the remaining blood. It took nearly an hour to wash away all the blood from your body.
You switched from states of sobbing uncontrollably where he would have to stop and calm you and just staring mindlessly at the red water you sat in.
“Sshh, you are safe.”
“You did good, so good.”
“I know it hurts,” he kissed your temple as the last of the wounds healed themselves.
He had plucked you away from the bath, once again dressed and tucked under the heavy sheet of their shared bedroom instead of yours.
Even tucked in, your eyes pooled once more. He didn’t want to do it but he was yet to pick up the pieces of his wife just yet.
His cold palm rested against your cheek as he wiped away the falling tears.
“You have to sleep.” His eyes dilated.
You whimpered and nodded, your eyes soon after fluttering to slumber. He sat there for a moment, listening to your heartbeat and watching as the frown from your face melted away.
This was close, too close. Rhaenyra was indestructible, you however were a dandelion in the breeze.
She was holding back, she was in there. If she wasn’t, you’d be dead and that’s the kind of weight that would destroy Nyra for the rest of her miserable eternity.
Daemon pulled away, locking the doors to his bedroom from the outside before heading down for Rhaenyra.
All he could think of as he pulled the candle stand from her chest and carried her to the Iron Cells was how close he was to loosing everything.
To loosing you.
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Andddd that’s a wrap, I missed writing for this series so much but I crunched it down in one go.
Comments and reblogs are appreciated
Let me know if you would like to be on the tag list.
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Yall remember last day's post, the liquid mpreg one? Yeah it wasnt a joke. These two terrorists are parents now. Dont ask why. Just be nice and say hi to their lil daughter :3
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r95irth · 1 year
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New chapter is up ! And Wen Ning is finally home and back safely to Lotus Pier :P
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tomsmusictaste · 2 years
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Comic Book Characters + SUM 41
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So I'm back on my bullshit y'all. There is no intersection of two of my interests that is too niche.
This is a list that I would love to keep expanding btw, if anyone knows of any other comic-book characters who either reference/explicitly listen to/are in some way connected to Canadian punk band Sum 41, PLEASE let me know, whether it's in adapted works or the comics themselves, send that shit to me.
Also the car thing? The only example here where Sum 41 isn't listened to in the car is the one where it's non-diegetic music. What's the deal with that? What it is about Sum 41 that it just gets played in the car?
Also, Uncle Ben. Yes, Uncle Ben. Of all the songs they could have had him be listening to they went with 'What We're All About' — "When I wake up I like a pound of bacon, start of the day with my arteries shaking, ROCK! It's what we're all about, it's what we live for! Come on and shout it out!" — This is Ben Parker's choice of music, canonically in the Spider-Man Raimiverse.
Wait.
Oh shit, just had a thought.
In that scene, Ben is trying to realte to Peter right -- so what if PETER owns the Half Hour Of Power CD, and Ben deliberately put it on in that car journey in an effort to try and connect with Peter in some way before his heart-to-heart talk shit fuck this started out as a funny silly shitpost and now I'm having feelings™ about Spider-Man fuck this always happens
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navree · 15 days
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the first french revolution is a very weird thing to talk about because none of you can be fucking normal about it whatsoever no matter which side you fall on
also it was an abject failure on every conceivable level but no one wants to admit that
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rayofspades · 2 months
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I am genuinely afraid to watch to watch Hazbin Hotel because dear god what if i like it?
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kalira · 7 months
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Mine Forever
(Story 1 of a series: Being Ageless, Being Yours (Baby))
Written for @whumptober day 28! (theme: “We might not make it to the morning; so go on and tell me now.” prompt 1: Bloody Knife prompt 2: Sacrifice)
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T; 2.9k Kei & Sho
When a job goes very wrong, Kei is left with his little one dying in his arms, and . . . an agonising choice he cannot make between losing Sho forever, or. . .
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chuluoyi · 6 months
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✎ daddy-to-be
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- gojo satoru x reader
in which you're worried about how he'd react to you carrying his baby
genre: fluff and comfort, mentions of pregnancy and dizzy spells
note: i feel soooo warm writing this *sigh* thank u anon who asked this!
a part of gojo's love entries
series masterlist | oneshot masterlist
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"Gojo-sensei! Must we do this?"
"For real?!"
"Okaka..."
"Yoohoo! Hehehehe~"
You sighed at the sight of your tall paintbrush of a husband. Satoru was supposedly teaching his first years—Maki, Panda and Inumaki—and yet, from where you were standing, it looked more like he was bullying them into following his whims more than anything.
A kind reminder that… this silly man is the father of your unborn child.
He didn't know that you were pregnant yet, because you had discovered it just a few days ago and chosen to keep it a secret for the time being.
In theory, this was normal. You two were married and engaged in a high level of sexual activity—something Satoru made sure of—and therefore, conceiving a child was bound to happen sooner or later.
Admittedly, accepting the fact that you were carrying his baby wasn't as easy as you thought, even knowing that. You hadn't seriously talked about having kids, and sure, your husband might have just taken a young cursed boy Yuta into his care—and way before that, Megumi, but it wasn't the same with your own child. It can't be the same.
And not to mention that you two were jujutsu sorcerers. Where would raising a baby fit in this bloody, cursed world you lived in?
...and above all, as things stand now, does Satoru even want a baby?
You released another sigh as you walked away, but then your vision tipped and you had to grab the wall for support. Right, you hadn't even been feeling well these past few days. You got queasy easily, and you experienced sporadic bouts of vertigo too.
"Sensei?" Yuta's worried voice greeted you, and you forced yourself to remain upright. "Are you okay?"
"Ah, yes, I'm fine," you assured him with a smile.
"Should I get Gojo-sensei? You seem pale..."
"No, no, that's—"
"Ooh~ Wifey!"
You cursed his impeccable timing as the striking white hair of your husband came to view. A mischievous grin adorned his face, a bundle of sunshine and trouble as always, as he wrapped an arm around you.
"Don't you have to teach the second years? My pretty wife, you can't be slacking—"
His smile abruptly fell when you subconsciously leaned on him and he noticed your shallow breaths. Satoru promptly tightened his grip on you.
"Yuta," his tone had taken a sharper turn. "Go to the training grounds and train with the others. Class ends after that."
As Yuta nodded and proceeded on his way, he immediately turned to face you. "What's wrong?" he asked with genuine concern. "Are you not feeling well? Can you walk?"
"I'm fine," you insisted, even though the edges of your vision started to blur.
Satoru pursed his lips, and you could tell even with his blindfold on, he was staring at you hard. "Don't be stubborn. Come on, let's get you home."
In an instant, he teleported you back to your shared home, his arms securely under your knees. You didn't know when the dizziness started to ramp up, but you were sure to fall if he didn't have a secure grip on you.
"How long have you been feeling unwell?" he inquired as he carefully lowered you onto your bed.
Realizing there was no point in hiding it any longer, you squeezed your eyes shut as your head rested on the soft pillow. "...since this morning."
Satoru expressed his dissatisfaction with a grunt. "In that case, you shouldn't have gone to school. From now on, you're on leave."
He fussed over you—removing your shoes, fine-tuning the air conditioner, and ensuring you were snug in bed. "What is causing you to feel this bad? Is it something you ate? We had dinner together, and I feel perfectly fine..."
You raised your gaze to him just as he tore off his blindfold, his eyes locking with yours. The blue of his eyes scrutinizing and assessing you, and suddenly, you felt insecure as he quirked an eyebrow, seemingly suspecting something. “Is there something you aren't telling me?”
This is it. You couldn't keep this from him any longer. This was his child as much as yours, he had to know for you to be able to decide on the next steps.
You exhaled. "I'm… pregnant."
Silence. For the next five seconds, you could've sworn that Satoru held his own breath.
"Pregnant?" he repeated, stunned, widened cerulean marbles blinking several times. "You...?"
You sat up, reaching for your nightstand and retrieving the five pregnancy tests you had stashed in the drawer, handing them to him.
Satoru fixed his gaze onto the two red lines on the sticks, examining them and then shifting his eyes between you and them several times. You didn't dare to look at him, feeling your hands starting to shake and your gut twisting.
But contrary to your dread, before you could blink, he pulled you into his embrace. Your heart melted as he softly murmured, "Dummy, why didn't you tell me sooner?"
"I... I was worried. I didn't think I..."
He nuzzled into your neck, breathing in deeply. "Silly... I'm supposed to be your safe space. You can and absolutely should tell me these kind of things..."
A lingering fear persisted in your gut as you croaked out, "Are you... okay with it?"
Satoru snapped his head so quickly, his brow furrowed. "What do you mean—of course I am! Why wouldn't I be?"
You didn't know why, but his impromptu and steadfast declaration brought tears to your eyes.
"Stupid," he chided, his voice tinged with slight giddiness and overflowing fondness, and doubled with the wide grin on his face, you were starstruck. Holding your hand, he pressed a tender kiss on your knuckles, and then on the wedding band resting on your ring finger.
His sincere, warm eyes spoke volumes as he said, "You are my beautiful, lovely, and amazing wife. And now you're about to make me a daddy. Why wouldn't I be thrilled about that?"
You had given him love that saved him in countless ways, some of which you might not even realize. And now, you were about to gift him another piece of you to love—his own family to cherish. Satoru was convinced he couldn't love you more than he did in this moment.
You cried even harder, wiping your face sloppily as you pouted at him, voice clogged with tears, a mixture of relief and happiness overwhelming you. "Why are you so s-sweet? You're u-usually... such a menace..."
"Hey! That's slander! I'm always nice to you!" he protested with a mock frown, trying to lighten the mood.
Satoru brought you into his arms again, affectionately stroking your hair. His excitement was palpable as he chuckled gleefully at the very idea of becoming a father to a mini-him or you in a not-so-distant future.
With that sentiment in mind, he genuinely meant every word of what he softly uttered in your ear:
"I love you, sweetheart. And mark my words—with everything I have, I won't let anything happen to you or our baby… I swear it."
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suiana · 10 months
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✎ yandere! slasher who's a mass murderer and doesn't discriminate when he kills people! he doesn't care about your gender, height... nothing! as long as he deems you a 'bad' person you're dead :3
✎ yandere! slasher who killed one of your friends because he was actually a big pervert who took nude photos of you?1!1! wait whys he kinda... 🤤
✎ yandere! slasher who didn't expect to be chased around by you after your friend's death. wait he's a killer! a killer! why are you fawning after him-?!
✎ yandere! slasher who's the traumatized while you're the traumatizer 😈😈 #couplegoals fr because you should get yourself a big scary looking man who's actually a huge softie on the inside. plus he also gets flustered by all of your acts of affection and that's extra cute!!
"..."
"why are you just staring at me like that?"
"..."
"say something!!!"
you frown at the killer as he shrugs and wipes the blood off his knife. you stare in horror as the blood drips to the ground, staining your newly cleaned floor. he then comes close to you, pointing the knife at your chest before making a series of rapid stabbing motions near your chest area.
however, you merely rolled your eyes at the killer, stepped close to him and stared at the holes in his bloody mask. seriously! the nerve that he had to just come into your home and do such a thing! you had to teach him a lesson.
"baby we've talked about this!"
you sigh as you push the knife away with your finger.
"don't come in the house with blood all over yourself! it's so hard to get rid of it!"
you let out an irritated click of the tongue as your frown deepens. the slasher only let's out a whine in response as he looks at you. to be honest it was hard to stay mad at him, especially when he's this adorable.
thinking about it, he's like a giant puppy. cute and adorable on the inside but big and scary on the outside. you looked at the masked male as he desperately tries to make up some reason as to why he forgot. but it doesn't matter, you weren't listening anyways. how could you? you were too focused on the fact that he came into your house and stained the floor with blood! right after you finished mopping too!
you couldn't let this slide.
"mop the floor and I'll forgive you."
you huff as you turn away from him. you then made your way to your bedroom as the male sighs in relief, thankful that it was all you asked him to do. but he forgot the fact that blood was hard to get rid of. especially when he had stepped all over your living room and made a mess everywhere.
"...this is gonna take forever."
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themotherofblood · 9 months
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Hey Ruie! about vamp au, does Daemon still have/did he get dark sister back?
Ahh, good question. He definitely got it back lol, my man spent an entire afternoon trying to pry it out of Aemond’s head. So I concur.
DAEMON AND DARK SISTER ARE INSEPARABLE.
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I'm making an halloween art piece of little Azedi, Little Liquid and Little Mantis (little in sense that it's their younger selves) going trick or treating and Im tearing my hair out because I cant figure out how to draw a simple ghost costume on Tretij. Like, just a long towel over his head. I can't even draw a little guy under a towel Im crying.
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singmyaubade · 1 year
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No Longer Yours
James Potter x Female!Reader
IB: In The Cold November Rain by @sweetsweetjellybean (Make sure to check it out, it’s incredible and one of the best I’ve ever read !)
A/N: First, I wanna say thank you to @sweetsweetjellybean for letting me be inspired by her story even though I am stupid, lol, but seriously (not kissing ass), check her series out; it is fantastic. Thank you to everyone for the kind comments, reblogs, and likes. I'm overwhelmed with love, and I'm so thankful that people actually want to read more of what I write but anyways, enjoy!
Summary: James had disregarded you for multiple years, but when you have an epiphany in your final year, how does it feel to taste his own medicine?
Warning: It may contain swearing and soon-to-be smut.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
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"Are you sure you don't want me to walk you all the way?" Your mother asked, squeezing your hand.
"I'll be fine," You caressed her hand, "I'm still your baby, though."
She laughed lightly, "Make sure to write always," She held your face with her hands, "Have fun; it's your last year."
You touched her hand on your cheek, "I will."
You hugged her one last time, taking in her scent. Every time you said bye to her, it was as sad as the first, without you crying and begging to stay.
"Okay," She smiled, taking her hands off your face, "Are you still sure you don't wanna wait for James here? I mean, you've done it all these years."
Little did she know, you had been ignoring James's letters, all 128 of them. He had been persistent, asking you what was wrong and begging for a reply to know you were safe.
You even received a letter from his mother, Euphemia Potter, asking how you were and everything was in Paris. You would never have it in your heart to ignore Ms. Potter, so you replied dutifully and happily.
And then you got a letter from him saying,
Dear Y/n,
Are you really going to reply to my mother and not me?
Sincerely,
Your BEST FRIEND, James Potter.
You didn't reply, scoffing at the bolded best friend. The last letter you received was last week, him telling you he couldn't wait to see you and wanted to talk as soon as he got to you.
Bullshit.
"Yeah," You gulped, "I'm just gonna meet him inside."
"Well, I'm sure he misses you," She started fixing your coat, "I mean, you have been in Paris all of this time, and I just think it would be good for you to-"
You cut her off, pecking her cheek, "Love you!" You yelled, going towards the train.
She shook her head, "Be safe!"
You smiled at her, going through the wall to the train. The feeling still felt the same, nostalgic. This was the last time boarding the train, and it felt sad.
You remembered the first time you ever boarded it. James was practically high on excitement on his first day at Hogwarts. You were scared out of your bloody mind, not wanting to leave your mum and dad.
When you had finally stopped crying and holding onto your mother's leg, James was the one to hold your hand and tell you that he would take care of you.
Maybe that was the first time you had realized James was more than a friend to you, or perhaps you were a naive child.
But either way, he was the one that you needed protecting from. You realized he hadn't been your friend since the fourth year.
But this year wasn't about James; it was about you having the best last year of Hogwarts that you could have ever had.
You boarded the train, moving through the compartments to where Marlene, Mary, Dorcas, and Lily usually were.
Compartment 222.
It was pretty lucky; it is where you guys first met.
You opened the compartment, "Did you guys miss me?"
They excitedly cheered, "Now tell me, Y/n, how many French boys did you end up shagging in France?" Marlene asked.
"I would say about thirty, oui oui." You joked in a French accent as they all started laughing.
You sat down next to Dorcas, giving her a side hug. You saw Lily and Mary whisper something to each other, to which Mary said, "Just say it!"
You could see Dorcas in the corner of your eye, shaking her head no aggressively. Apparently, Marlene was the only one not in the plan, continuing to look at her newsletter.
Your eyebrow raised, "Am I missing something?"
"It's really nothing," Lily nervously said.
"Okay, so what is it?" You laughed.
"Well," Lily fiddled with her fingers, "You know how you specifically requested that none of us tell James that you were replying to our letters and not purposely ignoring him."
You said, "Uhuh." Already knowing where this going.
"Well, I accidentally let it slip out over the letter you had spoken to Marlene and me." She admitted.
Your mouth agape, "Lily."
"I know, I know," She groaned, "It was a total accident."
"How do you accidentally slip something out over letter?" Marlene snorted, earning a glare from Lily, but she still looked at her newsletter.
"What did he say after?" You asked, kneading your forehead.
"Why is she ignoring me?" Lily answered, "I just said it was none of my business, nor was I involved."
The group stayed in silence, waiting for you to reply.
You sighed, thinking about how much James would bother you more now that he knew you ignored him.
"Are you mad at me?" Lily asked quietly.
"No, of course not," You smiled, looking at her, "I just don't want to talk to him and explain everything,"
"Who says you have to?" Mary asked.
You looked at her confused, "I just can't ignore him." You said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"And why not?" Marlene asked, now looking at you.
You opened your mouth to reply, but nothing came out. You thought about it harder, and why wouldn't you be able to ignore James? Maybe it was hard because you have never done it before.
"So I just don't reply when he tries to talk to me?" You asked.
"Well, I don't support this, but," Lily started, "You could always just walk away when he says something to you."
"Wouldn't that be mean?" You asked.
"What did I tell you in person and in the letter?" Dorcas asked as you looked at her.
"Give him hell."
"So do it." She said.
They were right; you couldn't keep explaining to James what he did wrong; you just had to be done with him. You missed your friendship, but it took a turn years ago; you never said anything.
And you had to start not caring about him.
"So, how was your guy's summer?" You changed the subject, grinning as Marlene went on about how she perfected her Quidditch skills and would finally be the best chaser at Hogwarts.
Then Lily talked about her poetry that she started over the summer and how her sister had ripped a few of them, but she fixed them with a single swish of her wand and appreciated magic more.
Mary talked about how many soap operas she had seen and how she might even go into it after she graduates from Hogwarts.
Lastly, Dorcas talked about how this year was her year to be a seeker and how she got a whole book collection from her sister in New Zealand.
You began talking about how you tasted so many new foods and learned a bit of French, showing off your knowledge of the profound language.
You were interrupted by someone opening the compartment doors, "Hello," Remus greeted as you stood up to hug him immediately.
He caught you as you almost made him fall over by the movement, "Remmy, how much I have missed you," You said, kissing him on the cheek.
"And Y/n, how was France?" He asked, smiling.
"Quite a bore; every man was all over me; I was getting exhausted," You exhaled, sitting back in your seat.
"Well, if you ever want to get with a real man, I'm here, Y/n," Sirius said, nudging next to you as you looked disgusted.
"Did you have to bring him?" Dorcas asked Remus, rolling her eyes.
"He insisted," Remus shrugged.
"There needs to be some form of restraining order against him by all of us," Mary sighed.
"I thought his STDs were enough of a restraining order for us to keep away from him," Marlene teased.
Sirius interrupted before another insult could be made, "Ladies, this Sirius Black hate train is honestly starting to hurt," He pretended to be hurt.
"Aww, poor baby," You said in a baby voice, pinching his cheek as he swooshed your hand away.
"Now, Y/n, why are you ignoring poor Prongs?" Sirius asked as you wanted to throw him out of the train through the window.
"I thought he told you to dance around the question," Remus snorted.
Sirius disregarded, "What did my poor, stupid boy do this time?"
"I'm afraid it's none of your business, Black." You simply said.
"It is my business when my friend is sulking and bringing down my mood," He explained, "So why are you upset with him?" He asked.
Marlene abruptly laughed, "I'm sorry, but he really thought you would be the one Y/n would say something to,"
Sirius fake-laughed, "Oh McKinnon, I'll be laughing like that when you fall off of your arse on the field,"
Marlene mocked his facial expression as he did the same thing to her.
"May I please just arrive in peace without one word of James Potter? I'm begging." You reasoned.
"Well, at least I can tell him I tried and that Moony was no help." He glared at Remus.
"I told you I wasn't going to talk to her for him; it was all up to you," Remus said as Sirius went outside, and Remus waved everyone goodbye before closing the doors.
You could already tell it was going to be a long year.
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After finally sorting the first year, everyone was allowed to dine. One thing you always missed about Hogwarts was the fantastic food; it was always incredible.
You were sitting in between Remus and Dorcas when Remus abruptly got up.
"Where are you going?" You asked, mid-laugh from a joke Marlene had made about Dumbledore and McGonagall in their secret chamber.
"Don't kill me," Remus stated before leaving. You looked confused, and James took the spot in front of you. You rolled your eyes, turning back to your meal.
"Please talk to me, Y/n," James pleaded.
You continued to stay silent, not even giving him a look as you looked at Marlene. She shook her head, and you continued to eat.
"I just wanna know what I did," James begged.
When you still didn't respond, he grabbed ahold of your wrist in an attempt for you to look at him.
"Don't fucking touch me." You spat before getting up and leaving the dining hall, telling your friends you were just gonna meet them in the dorm.
You tried rushing to the common room, but James was behind you.
"Y/n!" He yelled, speed-walking after you.
You continued to ignore him, going to the common room until you were stuck with the singing lady at the door who would not give it a rest.
"You have to talk to me," James demanded while the lady continued to screech.
"I don't have to do a thing you say," You scoffed, "In fact, I would prefer if you screwed off and stopped talking to me."
You went to one of the corridors, trying to escape him, but he followed you.
"Can't you just explain to me what I could've done for you to treat me like this?" He said roughly.
You turned to him, "There is not a single, simple explanation of what you could've done; there is a book of things," You snapped, "And treat you like this? Ever since I fucking stepped foot into your life, you have continued to treat me like shit." You stepped closer, "I stuck with you despite Lily, despite what other people said, and despite what you have shown me."
He continued to stay silent, "And now that I finally stick up for myself, I've done you horribly? Bullshit." You spat, "You have continued to show me exactly why I will never ever love you again, and yeah, for a matter of fact, I did love you, but you don't deserve me and never will."
Your words shocked him, not being able to mutter a word.
"Now you have nothing to say?" You manically laughed, "The smooth-talking and fantastic golden boy that shocked the century has nothing to say? What a pathetic-"
He kissed you suddenly precipitously, his tongue entering your mouth, entangling with yours.
For a second, you were drunk on his mouth, engaging with his kiss with as much passion as he gave you. His hand pulls on your hair lightly, making you moan.
His lips went from your mouth to your neck, sucking hard, red marks into your skin, knowing it would bruise.
Then you remembered everything. You remembered James's bitter words, his voice mocking you, and the boys laughing in the locker room.
You pushed his hard chest off you, breathing hard from the whole interaction. He looked at you, breathing as hard as you; realizing what he had done, he tried to touch your hand, but you pushed him again.
Tears brimmed in your eyes, "You're such an asshole," You cried, going to the Gryffindor common room.
You rushed up the stairs, immediately going into your bed. You couldn't believe what had just happened.
A part of you wanted to be grateful, grateful that you pushed him off, and realized that he only wanted to be with you when he felt convenient.
Another part of you wanted to continue kissing him, laughing with him, hugging him. You knew it wouldn't be easy, but you had never figured it would be painful.
What if you had loved James for so long that you didn't know anything but to love him?
It was stupid and pathetic.
You were tired of being stupid and pathetic, you just wanted to move on from James Potter and get away from him, and if that wasn't possible, you had to make him regret being friends with you in the first place.
So you did.
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You got up fresh and early in the morning when all of your roommates were sleeping, taking a shower immediately.
You looked in the mirror, your mascara smudged and dark red and purple hickies wearing your skin. You placed a shit-load of powder and concealer to cover up the parts you could.
You tried several spells to cover it up as best as possible, changing into your uniform.
You slipped into the most showing tights you could and wore your skirt from the fifth year that you so obviously outgrew, showing almost your ass cheeks.
You would be thankful not to get a write-up from McGonagall.
You unbuttoned two buttons off the top of your shirt, showing a tiny bit of your bra. It wasn't the most rebellious or seductive, but it could work.
The first challenge of that day was Potions; all of your friends were there, including all of the Marauders. But, thanks to Merlin was also Jacob Carrow's class, the Slytherin Captain that James hated with a burning passion.
They both could not be in the same room without spitting a hateful insult at the other. James once had a dream that you and Jacob had gone out, and he refused to talk to you for an entire day until you convinced him you would never do that.
You never considered yourself a liar.
The only problem was that Jacob was a dickhead, but so was James. You were surprised they didn't get along, maybe in another life.
You went inside Potions with your friend group, and you spotted Jacob Carrow in the back with an empty seat next to him as you told your friends you were gonna sit in the back.
You were thankful none of his friends were around him; it would be ten times more unbearable.
You sat next to him with a wide grin painted on your face, trying not to show your pain.
"Sitting next to me, Y/n?" He smirked, "I thought you were Potter's little puppy."
You tried to ignore your annoyance, "Pets tend to lean away from their owner at points; I guess that's my case." You shrugged.
"I am no Potter; I don't like having little girls follow me and do my shit for me." You could tell he was insulting you, but you stood tall.
"Good thing girls don't like to be in your presence." You snickered.
He smiled, "Love a kitty with claws," He leaned into his chair, "What do you want?"
"Do I have to want something?" You asked, popping your chest out to show your tits as he looked down at your face.
"You finally trying to make your boy toy jealous?" He asked.
You dropped the facade, "Are you gonna help me or not?"
"Control the temper, baby; I just wanna know what's in it for me." His body faced you.
"Isn't James being angry enough?" You asked.
"Nah, I can piss off Potter by just existing." He replied.
"What do you want?" You asked, half-annoyed.
"Meadows on a date with me."
You laughed, "Dorcas would never go on a date with you."
"Then no deal." He said with a fake smile.
"Ugh, fine, I'll talk to her if you just make James's life hell for a few minutes." You said.
"Okay, deal." He smiled, "Do you want me to touch you or,"
"Sure, but don't overdo it." You warned.
"I love when you flatter yourself." He said as James walked in, laughing with the Marauders.
Jacob immediately placed a hand on your thigh, slightly higher than preferred, but you continued smiling.
You started fake-laughing at Jacob's joke, which immediately caught James's attention. You looked behind you, and James's head looked like it would explode.
You looked back at Carrow, touching his shoulder and admiring how much muscle he had.
"What else do you want me to do?" He said through his teeth.
"I'll scoot closer to you, and you can put your hand on my waist." You suggested as he nodded.
You faced the front as Jacob touched your waist, tickling you with his fingers as you laughed.
"Mind keeping it down?" James scowled, "Not everyone wants to fucking hear that shit."
"How about you piss off, Potter?" Jacob mocked as he gripped your waist tighter, which pissed off James even more.
Before James could say another word, Slughorn started the class.
Throughout the class, Jacob would squeeze your thigh or tickle you, almost rising to touch your tits. Whenever he did those actions, you would giggle, earning daggers from James.
Once Slughorn instructed everyone to look inside their microscopes at the different ingredients used in Veritaserum, you took the opportunity to sit on Jacob's lap, looking in the microscope as he bounced you with his knee, causing you to laugh.
This really pissed James off, him storming up to you both. He grabbed your arm, practically flying you off of Jacob.
"Mr. Potter!" Slughorn yelled as the class watched the entire thing.
"Don't you dare fucking touch her," James said brusquely.
Jacob scoffed, "What will you do about it, Potter?" He stood, going closer to James.
You rolled your eyes due to the amount of testosterone in this conversation.
James got closer as you grabbed his hand, pushing him back, "Stop it." You said to him as he looked at you.
He grabbed your wrist, dragging you out of the classroom to an abandoned bathroom.
"James, let go of me!" You yelled as he pushed you inside the bathroom.
He was fuming, and you could tell which scared you. You hadn't seen him this angry since he lost a Quidditch match against the very man's lap you were on.
"You dragged me in here, so is there something you have to say?" You looked at him angrily, hands on your hips.
"Us not being friends anymore doesn't allow you to be a slut," He ridiculed.
You slapped him, "Don't you fucking dare call me a slut; I can do whatever the fuck I want,"
He wiped his mouth with a smile, "You think he gives a shit about you? He would fuck you and then dump you." He said as he moved closer, and you backed up.
"You don't know a thing," You replied nervously.
"He wouldn't even clean you up after," He continued, "He would let you rot there like a slut," Another step closer, which you took backward. You didn't understand if he purposely tried to intimidate or lecture you.
He didn't stop.
"He would tell all of his friends after," Another step, "He wouldn't dare spare you a minute after," Another step, "You would mean nothing," You were backed into the wall now, "But it's okay because you can do whatever the fuck you want."
"James." You kept eye contact with him, his eyes beaming into yours.
His mouth lowered to your ear, "But I think you want me to give a shit; you wanna see me mad." His hand snaked to your waist, "I guess you win." His body left yours, storming out of the bathroom.
Did you really win?
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A/N: Y/n: 2, James 0??? There is also an alternate chapter to this because I couldn't stop writing two plots LOL.
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5K notes · View notes
jellyfishsthings · 27 days
Text
Masterlist No.2 (no.1 here)
Navigation
Edit: Updated version ✌️
¤ = smut
smau = social media au
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Marauders Era:
James Potter:
Eating out, vol.2 ¤
Remus Lupin:
Touches ¤
And the were roomates ¤
Shy reader
Aftercare
Mean bf Remus ¤
Being mean to himself
Kinktober fav.1, fav.2 , fav.3 ¤
Animagus comfort
The One We Were Caught
Head Cannons
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Star Wars:
Anakin Skyalker:
Headboard gripper ¤
Forbidden Love ¤
God I hate you ¤
He is that type of guy ¤
Pussy eater ¤
Baby fever , vol.2 ¤
Bloody Skywalker
Back to you
Feral
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Formula 1+2:
Oscar Piastri:
Bubbles was...
Mich Shumacker:
Fake Dating (smau)
Charles Leclerc:
Meet cute
Max Verstappen:
Three Musketeers (smau series)
Ollie Bearman:
Dating Headcannons
Lando Norris:
Clingy
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807 notes · View notes
gloomwitchwrites · 11 days
Note
They overhear you telling the team how much you like them and want to have their babies.
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ANON! The way I screamed when I first read this prompt. I love shit like this because o-m-g. I had so much fun writing our boys in this scenario. Thank you so much for sending it in!
While there are some sweeter moments, these all lean toward the steamy side but don't cross over fully into spice. But, each is left open enough that you can make up your own mind about what happens! (hehe).
Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): mild language, suggestive themes, pregnancy, fluff, feelings
ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if series masterlist
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John "Soap" MacTavish (wc: 651)
John is grinning like a bloody idiot. Has been for the last few days.
He’s caught your attention, and he’s downright smug about it. Every lingering glance and gentle upturn of your mouth has his skin singing with an intensity that can only be described as a tree burning from the inside out. He’s been after you for months, doing his best to gauge your interest in him.
He thinks he has an in because just yesterday, you touched him. Not a passing touch either but a firm grasp of his upper arm. A squeeze that shot heat straight to his toes and sent blood rushing quickly to an already throbbing need.
You looked him in the eye, brow all soft, mouth puckered slightly in the most gorgeous pout. John wanted to kiss you right then.
He turns the corner, heading into the training room, only to stop dead when he hears your voice. Pausing, he backtracks, pressing himself against the wall but leaning around the corner to listen in.
“Johnny’s been sweet on you,” comes Ghost’s voice. It’s slightly teasing, and John frowns slightly. Ghost would never overstep and steal you out from under him, but he would give him or even you a hard time.
“Has he?” you reply, and it’s breathy.
At this rate, his cheeks are gonna hurt for a week from how stupidly big his grin is.
“Don’t tell us you haven’t noticed,” laughs Gaz. “Soap’s been drooling all over the floor and himself.”
You remain silent, and John would give anything to know what you look like right now or what you’re thinking.
“Do you like him?” asks Ghost.
“What?” you exclaim.
“We won’t tell. Unless you want us to,” continues Gaz. “We can tell him to back off if—”
“No. I—” There is a stretch of silence. “I like him.”
When neither Gaz nor Ghost say anything, you keep talking. “I like him. I’m interested.”
“How interested?” asks Ghost, slowly.
“I’d have his babies if he asked,” you blurt so suddenly that it even takes John by surprise.
His grin momentarily slips away, and then it comes back, raging larger than before. He is going to bottle up those words and savor them. John runs his fingers through his hair, tugging on the tips slightly as he comes to a decision.
Pushing off from the wall, he barrels around the corner, making enough noise to not startle anyone. You and Gaz both jump but Ghost remains utterly still, a passive brick of a man. But his dark eyes swivel from you to John, and he sees Ghost’s amusement behind the balaclava.
John approaches you, and it takes every ounce of willpower to keep his grin from seeming too eager. “Price is looking for you.”
“Oh,” is all you say, moving in the direction John just emerged from. He waits until you pass him to start following, but before he can, he catches Gaz’s grin and Ghost’s gentle shake of his head.
When the two of you disappear around the corner, John reaches out, grabbing your arm. He tugs you against him, then shoves open a nearby door, hauling you inside.
“Johnny,” you protest as he shuts the two of you inside.
Leaning against the door, John crosses his arms over his chest. “Heard what you said.”
“Did you?” you counter, placing your hands on your hips.
“Aye.”
“And what did I say?”
“That you wanted to have my babies.” Your face heats and John has to bite back a groan. He surges forward, trapping you against the wall. “Is that the truth? Do you want me?”
You soften in his arms, and he cannot help himself. His arms snake around your middle only to lift you onto a nearby table.
“I want you,” you whisper.
John dips his head and you greet him with your mouth. “Then let’s get to it, love.”
John Price (wc: 420)
Price reclines in his office chair.
His mind is a mess. All thoughts of work are utterly gone. Finished. The only thing in his head is you and what you said this morning. The thing is, you don’t know that Price heard every word, that he listened as you confessed your feelings for him to the rest of the team.
Price is your superior, which means anything between the two of you cannot happen. At least, not while you’re under his command. The rest of the team said as much, and you reluctantly agreed, knowing that nothing could be done unless you or he moved out of the unit.
And Price won’t leave. Not because he wouldn’t do it for you, but because Laswell would have his head if he tried.
But the two of you can still talk. The two of you can still figure something out.
Yet it wasn’t just your interest in him that has Price’s head in knots. It’s what you said, almost absently, like you were speaking to the air and not the rest of the team.
I’d have his babies.
Fuck, he was gone when he heard that. Price walked away immediately and went to his office. Which is where he’s been the entire fucking day. When his phone rings, he refuses to answer. Everyone who has come knocking leaves when Price ignores them. He just needs to get his head on straight but he can only do that once he talks to you first.
Sighing, Price leans forward in his chair, resting his forearms on the table. A knock comes, and everything in him tenses.
He swallows. Turns his nerves to steel. "Come in."
When you enter, Price loses all thought. It isn't until the silence becomes awkward that Price clears his throat and stands. "Shut the door."
You do and then take a few more steps inside. Price isn't one for stepping around a conversation. He just needs to get this shit off his chest.
"Heard what you said this morning."
"You did?"
"I did."
You take a shaky breath. "And?"
"Did you mean it?"
'Every word," you say automatically.
Fuck. He's done for.
Price slowly sinks into his chair. He leans back casually, legs spread. Resting both hands on his thighs, Price runs them up and then back down. He taps the inside of one thigh in open invitation.
Your legs obediently move, and Price's chest tightens. As you straddle him, Price's hands come to rest on your waist.
"Show me."
Kyle "Gaz" Garrick (wc: 309)
Kyle heard you wrong. He must have.
The words that just came out of your mouth simply aren’t true.
I want to have his babies.
He shakes his head, the middle of his brow furrowing slightly as he continues to listen. He hears Soap guffaw at your reply and then swear up a storm when you smack the back of his head.
“It’s not funny,” you snap.
“Oh, aye. But it is.”
“Cut her some slack, Johnny,” says Ghost teasingly. “Sergeant Garrick is a handsome man.”
You sigh in frustration. “You’re both terrible. I can’t tell you anything.”
“You just did.”
“Oh shove it, Soap,” you reply.
Kyle covers his mouth with his hand, smothering a laugh. You’ve always been feisty, and you don’t take shit from anyone, especially not from them. But this admission completely catches him off-guard.
He’d be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t interested. What first began as mutual respect grew into genuine friendship. Now it’s…this. Whatever this is.
But Kyle is a private person, and he’s not going to shove himself into this conversation. He’ll wait until you’re alone and the two of you can talk this out without an audience. From there, he will have the truth directly from your mouth.
And if he's being honest with himself, Kyle is fucking ace to the idea of you giving him a kid or two. Or three.
His mind swirls outward with images of what he’d do to put a baby inside you. Everything in him ramps up, burns hot until he’s aching.
“Sergeant.”
Kyle’s eyes snap open, and he momentarily sways as he rights himself.
“Captain,” he replies, clearing his throat.
Captain Price smirks and then squeezes his shoulder. “Must have been a hell of a daydream.” Price releases Kyle’s shoulder and continues on.
Privacy. Privacy with you.
That’s what Kyle needs.
Simon "Ghost" Riley (wc: 375)
Ghost is a patient man.
But right now, there is a fire beneath his skin.
It itches, radiating outward, even making his bones ache. This is not a wound. Not an injury. He didn’t take a hit. There is nothing physically wrong with him. Ghost is healthy. A solid brick wall of muscle and scars.
This impatient insistence comes from a carnal place. All the blood is rushing to a singular point, and Ghost is going fucking insane with how badly he needs to relieve it. The worst part about it is that you don’t even know. You have no idea what you’ve done, or what he heard.
I’d have his babies.
Ghost is entirely aware that the conversation you had with Soap and Gaz was private. He wasn’t meant to hear it. But he did. He did, and now he can’t stop thinking about all the things you said to them.
Which is why he’s lurking in the shadows, watching your every step, assessing when he should slide on up to you. Ghost needs you alone. He needs to talk but he also needs you in his lap.
So, when you turn the corner, Ghost slips into his namesake, grabbing you by the waist to haul you through the nearest door. Instinct kicks in, and you lash out, but Ghost is so much bigger than you, easily restraining all resistance.
"Stop moving."
"Simon."
His real name on your tongue is perfect. Pressing his face into your neck, he inhales, and you melt into him.
"What are you doing?" you ask softly.
"I heard the conversation you had with Johnny and Gaz today."
"Did you?"
"Is it true?"
Your face shifts slightly in his direction and Ghost draws back a bit. "Yes."
"Mean it?"
"Yes."
Slowly, Ghost removes his arms from around your waist. He gently guides you forward and then spins you around so that you're fully facing him. There is silence and then Ghost reaches for the front of his belt buckle. Your gaze immediately drops and then pops back up as undoes and then removes the belt with one hand.
"Willing to show me?" he asks.
Your lips part, and then you're touching him.
The fire beneath his skin becomes an inferno.
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536 notes · View notes
twilghtkoo · 2 months
Text
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telling my boyfriend my tampon is stuck . . .
pairings. haechan x reader (f)
genre. crack, fluff? established relationship
warnings. mentions of period blood lol
note. i've wanted to do this one for awhile lol and i finally had time to write this quickly so sorry if it's short, like and reblogs are vv much appreciated !! enjoy <3
[ series masterlist | masterlist ]
-
"babe?" you call out quietly, sounding nervous, from the bathroom.
you hear rustling in your bedroom. "yeah," he responds.
"can you come here please?" you wait patiently, swaying on your feet.
he appears a few feet away from the doorway. "what's up, baby?"
with him now standing in front of you, you're not sure how to go about this and you have to fight your inner self from bursting out into fits of nervous giggles.
you start fiddling with the rings around your fingers. "umm, i can't get my tampon out. it's stuck.."
his mouth slightly opens as he glances down then back up at you. "oh god, the string is gone?" he slightly chuckles but inches towards you, reaching with his hand to softly grab onto your elbow.
his reaction has you both chuckling a bit. "yeah, it's pretty far up there. i'm scared."
he nods, "okay, i'll get it." he replies, as if this was a normal occurence.
"no, no wait. it's bloody and gross."
he blinks. "so? i'll wash my hands first, you should lie down- wait i'll set a towel down for you. let me grab a flashlight-"
your head snaps towards him, grabbing his hand from leaving the room, with your eyes wide. "a flashlight? wait, no it's scary." you back away, laughing out of fear.
"baby, trust me i'll find it. we don't wanna leave it in there do we?" he quirks an eyebrow.
"well, no but-" he cuts you off.
leaving to grab a towel from the linen closet as he neatly places it down on the tiled floor. "i'm not walking into uncharted territory babe, don't you worry. take your pants off, lie down, knees up-"
"baby, wait!"
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souliebird · 20 days
Text
[[and then I met you || ch. 19]]
Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit
Summary:
A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.
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Frank, admittedly, isn’t as fit as he used to be. 
Running through the desert, carrying all his gear, used to be an everyday thing he could do no problem, but now, running through the streets of Hell’s Kitchen, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, he finds his breathing to be a bit labored. 
Then again, that might be because he’s pissed off. He, Jones, and Red were in the middle of setting up for a night of surveillance, something Red insisted they do, when the costumed idiot took off into the night without a word.
Normally, Red will give them the damn courtesy of letting them know before he disappears to protect his flock, so him just starting to bolt had Frank and Jones scooping up their shit and following. 
One thing Frank’s learned while working with Matt Murdock is to trust the bastard when it comes to his senses - when he says they need to clear out, there is usually a damn good reason to start running. But he has always given a reason or a head’s up - taking off like this must mean something is going down.
Jones gave up trying to keep pace a few blocks back, but Frank is determined to find out what the hell is going on. Red has the advantage of not hauling an additional fifty pounds of gear, and he has taken to parkouring over the roofs, so has gotten about a block and a half ahead. 
Frank can keep him in his sights, at least. He’s making a bee-line right towards Chelsea and that’s causing a pit to start to grow in the Marine’s stomach. Not many things override Red’s deep seeded commitment to his city and only one of those things resides outside Hell’s Kitchen. 
He adjusts his grip on his bag and forces his legs to move faster.  
The buildings around him shift from businesses to residential and about two blocks into the change, Frank knows what set the Devil off. 
His little girl is in the middle of the sidewalk, crying hysterically as her mother struggles on the ground against some fat fuck in a business suit. Frank only sees the attacker for a brief second before fury incarnate grabs him by his thick neck and slams him into the ground by Mom’s feet. The sound of a skull being cracked rings clear before it's covered by angry roars and the crunch and squelch of someone’s face being pounded in. 
By the Grace of all that is Holy, Red’s baby seems to not care her dad is about to kill a guy and scurries to her Mommy now that she is free. Frank kicks his ass into gear to get there before she can be traumatized anymore. 
He doesn’t know if the little girl recognizes him or not, but she doesn’t fight it when Frank picks her up. She clings to him desperately, burying her face against his neck and just sobbing. Instincts he forgot he had kick in and Frank bundles Minnie up in his duster, rocking her and trying to soothe her the best he can.
“Hey, hey, sweet girl, it's okay, it's okay. I gotcha. Everything’s gonna be okay, I gotcha.”
Frank cups the back of her head, careful to not tangle his fingers up in her curls and turns her away from her bloody mother. He needs to check on you, to make sure your wounds are something he can handle, and they don’t need to take you to the hospital, but he can’t do that with a crying toddler in his arms. 
“He hurt my Mommy!” The baby wails and his heart just about breaks. He wants so badly to join Red in stomping the piece of shit’s head into the pavement for endangering such a precious child, but he knows he can’t. She can’t witness any more than she already has. 
As often as Frank takes digs at Murdock for being an altar boy, he can’t let Red’s daughter see him lose control and step over the line he swore to never cross. He’d never forgive himself for causing that trauma for her. So, he hugs the little girl closer, kisses the top of her head, then grunts, “Red!”
Murdock stills mid-punch, his bloody fist raised and ready to continue his punishment. He looks feral - he is snarling, and gore has splashed up onto his face. He is shaking with rage and for a brief moment, Frank can see why he claims to have the Devil in him. Then, just as his little girl cries for her Mom again, control returns to him. Red tilts his head in a way Frank knows he heard something, then he pushes himself up into standing. 
Red rips his gloves off, throwing them to the ground, before taking the few steps to clear the gap between him and Frank. He barely starts to rasp out his daughter’s name before she’s turning in Frank’s arms and trying to throw herself to him, sobbing.
“DADDY!”
The noise Red makes is not at all human as he crushes his baby girl to his chest. A new round of loud tears start and Frank knows he has to work quickly before they start attracting attention. 
He pulls his duster off and throws it around Red’s shoulders, trying to hide his garish costume. Murdock seems to realize what he’s doing - he curls into it while ducking his horn-head and moving towards the shadows as he comforts his daughter. Frank can’t hear what he’s saying - his voice is low and the crying covers it - but honestly he doesn’t care.
He turns his attention back to your limp body on the ground, dropping down and letting his knowledge of field medicine take over.
Your forehead is bleeding pretty bad, but a quick assessment of the wound tells him it looks worse than it really is. You’ve got a pretty good gash, but it is shallow, and he doesn’t feel any bone breakage under it or swelling. You’ll need a few stitches, and a hell of a lot of ibuprofen, but you won’t need a hospital. You probably passed out from a combination of pain and exhaustion from an adrenaline rush. 
Still, Frank checks your neck before deciding to move you, just to make sure it's safe. 
As he starts to press his fingers along your spine, Jones finally makes her appearance, jogging up to the scene. 
“What the fuck?”
Frank barely looks up as he growls out his reply, focusing on his work while formulating a plan in his head, “It’s his kid.”
“Oh shit,” she replies, then after a beat, “Is he dead?”
Frank barely looks over to the beaten man in question - his chest is still rising and falling so that’s good enough for him. “Nah, not yet. Call it in - then meet us up in her apartment.” 
He rattles off the address and apartment number as he scoops you up into a fireman’s carry. He’s glad he doesn’t have far to go, because your weight, plus his gear, isn’t doing any favors to his back. As he gets you situated, Jones steps over to the attacker and nudges him in the side with her boot. His face isn’t recognizable as human, but that isn’t what she comments on. 
“What is that smell? Did he shit himself?”
“Fuck if I know, just call it in,” Frank grunts as he begins to trudge towards the right building. “Red, let's go!”
He knows he doesn’t have to explain the plan to Murdock - fucker heard him the first time. Red falls in line and by some miracle, his little girl’s crying has tampered down. She’s still crying - Frank would be more concerned if she wasn’t - but she’s tucked herself close to her Dad and seems to be just more upset than actively terrified. Frank’s got no idea what Murdock could have possibly done to soothe her, but he gives him props for doing it so damn fast. 
He can hear Jones calling for an ambulance as they enter into your building, and once in the lobby, Frank wastes no time barking another order, “Take off your helmet.” 
That earns him a glare, or what counts as a glare from the Devil, and Murdock uses one hand to pull his cowl off and stuffs it between his chest and his daughter before starting for the stairs. Frank is right at his heel and being so close means he can finally hear what Red is repeating to his girl. 
“Just listen to her heart, baby, everything’s okay. You know that sound. Just listen to her heart.”
Frank has a good guess what that means - his theory about passing out from exhaustion and pain is probably correct. If your heart isn’t in crazy panic ‘I’m dying’ mode, you should be fine after a good night’s rest. 
The only problem they encounter in the climb up to your apartment is your door. They have to do a weird song-and-dance of Frank turning so Red can get into your purse to get keys while also making sure Minnie can’t see your face. He hasn’t gotten the chance to clean you up in any way and he’s not going to let any little girl see her mom like that if he can help it. 
Once they are inside the apartment, Frank goes right to the couch to lay you out. As he does, he says over his shoulder, “I’m gonna call Curt.” 
Just because you don’t need a hospital doesn’t mean you shouldn’t see a medical professional. Frank knows what he is doing, but he does not trust himself to stitch up your face. Someone with delicate hands needs to do that, and the best person he knows for that is Curt. 
Murdock, however, disagrees. 
“Call Claire,” he counters firmly. 
Frank knows better than to argue - this is Murdock’s family and Frank ain’t got a dog in this fight. So, once you are down, and his gear is dropped, he fishes out his phone to call the feisty nurse. As he does, Red starts back towards what Frank assumes is the bedroom, talking in a sweet tone to his little girl, “It's okay, Frank’s gonna clean Mommy up, then we can go see her. She’s just got a scrape, everything’s okay.”
Frank focuses on his task at hand - as the line rings, he raids the kitchen for washcloths, bowls, and paper towels. He’s on his way back to the couch when Claire finally answers.
“What did he do this time?”
A little smile forms on his lips at her bluntness - he’s always liked Claire and her no-nonsense attitude. 
“Ain’t him. His girl got mugged, hit her head pretty good,” he explains, as he dips a washcloth into the water to start on cleaning you up. The cut on your forehead is still bleeding, but only a little by this point. He’ll have to retrace their steps to wipe away any blood droplets, so they don't leave a trail right to your door.
“So, take her to the ER.”
He hums at the response, then adds the crucial element, “His little girl saw it all.”
The line is silent for a good five seconds before Claire is swearing, “I’m on my way. How bad are we talking?”
He feels a little for the nurse at the moment - she’s always having to deal with Red broken and battered and is probably thinking she’s going to have to do some sort of impromptu surgery. He gives a rundown on your injuries, then adds, “Your stitches are nicer than mine.” 
“Exactly what a lady wants to hear. How’s the kid?” 
“Physically ok, but probably going to have nightmares for a while,” is his honest reply. There wouldn’t be an attacker left to pick up in an ambulance if Minnie had gotten hurt - he would have made sure of that no matter what Red would have said.
Claire groans in response, “I don’t know anything about child psychology, Frank.” 
“No one’s expecting you to.”
The nurse may be a miracle worker in the eyes of Red’s little vigilante group, but no one in this world is qualified to deal with all their mental problems.
“Give me ten minutes and I’ll be there. You’re lucky I’m on this side of town already.” 
Claire hangs up on him and Franks stuffs his phone back into his pocket. He’ll need to call Mirco later to set up a camera on your building, something similar to what he’s got for Karen, and arrange for some background checks on the neighbors. The area seems to be working class just trying to get by, but isn’t that just all of the city now? Even if one drunk-off-his-ass guy just made some stupid decision, it put you and the kid in danger and that is a no-go in Frank’s book. As much Red will huff and puff and growl, his family falls under Frank’s sphere of protection and that isn’t something Frank skimps on. 
So, a full security upgrade is in your near future. 
But that is something he’ll figure out the details for later on. Right now, he puts his full attention in cleaning you up. 
The worst of it is the cut on your forehead. He folds a washcloth and sets it on the wound to help the remaining bleeding stop, then moves onto your cheeks. You’ve got some gravel stuck there, but he doesn’t see any glass or metal. There’s some bruising, but he doesn’t think it will be anything to fuss about - it will fade away within a day or so. He’s seen worse coloring on a hickey. The bastard who attacked you didn’t seem like he knew what he was doing, or he was too sloshed out of his mind to be coordinated.
 Overall, you are just pretty banged up. 
But nonetheless, Frank takes care to make sure it just looks like you are resting, even putting the throw blanket left on the couch over you to hide the grime stains on your clothes. 
Red and his creepy bat ears must be listening, because as soon as he goes to dump the bloody cleaning water, he’s coming out of the bedroom with Minnie. She’s still in his arms, clinging to his neck like a koala, but her tears have stopped. She’s still sniffling, though.
Frank hangs back as the little girl is brought to her Mommy and his heart damn near breaks again when she starts talking. 
“She’s just sleeping?” 
“She’s just sleeping,” Red confirms. He carefully kneels down beside you and makes slow, exaggerated movements as he puts his hand over your heart. “You can feel, too. Just sleeping.”
He watches as the tiny little girl untangles herself from her father and stretches to put her hand next to his. She scrunches up her nose and gets a look Frank has seen a million times on Red. 
“Boom. Boom. Boom.”
“Exactly, boom. Boom. boom. The same heart-noises Mommy makes when she sleeps.” 
They stay like that for a few seconds before little hands go up to your face and Minnie is examining your cuts.
“He hurt Mommy,” she says so softly that Frank wants to stomp back downstairs and unload his Glock into the asshole. “She has ouchies.” She turns so quickly in Red’s arm that Frank sees him jump just a little - probably still on high alert - and she slaps both her hands on his cheeks, “You have to kissy it better.”
Her voice is so serious and demanding, he’s surprised Red doesn’t instantly comply. Instead, he kisses his little one’s forehead. 
“A doctor is going to come and make sure all her ouchies are taken care of. Then we can kiss it better.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Her curls bounce as the little girl whips around to address Frank, ordering in the same voice, “You have to kissy it better, too.”
He damn well knows better than to argue with a three year old girl - Lisa could put him in his place like no one's business - so Frank simply nods with a, “Yes, ma’am.” Red doesn't look thrilled at the agreement, but he's not the one who's opinion Frank cares about.
Her brown eyes sus him out, narrowing a fraction before he passes whatever criteria she has and Minnie turns back to her mother and father. “When is she gonna wake up?”
“She'll wake up when she's done resting,” Murdock gently advises. “She needs lots of rest right now.” 
Frank knows what question is coming before it is even asked. It is the universal toddler question. 
“Why?”
Red, it seems, needs to spend more time with his kid because he looks completely baffled by the question. He repeats the word, which just gets parroted back at him, and Frank can practically hear Lisa and Frankie chanting along with her. 
Why? 
Why? 
Why?
Why would you need lots of rest in a way a terrified toddler would get it? There's a slight hint of panic in Red’s sightless eyes as he fights to find an answer and Frank takes pity on him. 
He steps forward and asks the little girl, “Have you ever played really hard then needed a nap after?”
Attention swings back to him but this time he is prepared for it. Minnie considers his question, then nods, and Frank gives her a soft, friendly smile. “Same thing, sweetheart. Your Mommy’s body worked really hard and now she needs a nap.” 
“She needs a nap,” the baby replies and then, to his amusement, proceeds to stuff her fingers into her mouth and suck on them. He's got no idea what that means, but Red’s shoulders relax a fraction, so he assumes it's a good thing. 
He wonders if she's starting to get tired now that the action is over. He can't imagine why they were out in the first place, but he has to guess it was to get something from the store. That is his experience with bringing a baby in their pajamas out at night - there was something needed that couldn't wait until morning. That would also explain the black bag in your purse.
He looks to Red and his girl - Murdock has sat himself on the floor beside the couch, facing you, and Minnie is tucked in his lap, sucking her fingers still. Both of their focus seems to be on you. So, Frank lets curiosity get the better of him and he goes to snoop. 
There’s a bottle of Pedialyte nestled inside the bag, and by the tiny bit missing, he has a feeling he knows who it is for. He looks from it, over to the sweet child sitting in Red’s lap, and decides she probably still needs it if her mom went out in the middle of the night for it. So, he turns his snooping to the kitchen and opens and closes cabinets until he finds the one holding sippy cups. All of them have Braille labels on them and he briefly wonders what each says before grabbing one with Big Bird on it. He gives it a good rinse before filling it up halfway with the blue liquid.
He removes his tactical vest before he heads back to the living room. He thinks of it more of a sign for Red than Minnie. The little girl might be scared of the skull art, but he hopes it will help Murdock relax. He’s putting on a good face for his daughter, but Frank can see the tension in his jaw and how on edge and angry he must be, and he can’t be blamed. He knows how emotional Red can get and he’s surprised he’s managing to keep it together - so subtly letting him know ‘there’s no danger here’ and Frank isn’t a threat to his family might just get him to stop grinding his teeth. 
He approaches slowly and somewhat loudly, while holding out the sippy cup, “Here you go, sweetie.”
Minnie blinks up at him with those wide brown eyes and he can see the exhaustion starting to creep in - getting a bottle might just knock her out. He has to lean down so she can take it, but as soon as she does, her hand drops from her mouth and she politely mumbles, “Thank you.” 
“You’re very welcome, sweetheart.”
“What is it?” Murdock questions, nose twitching to try to figure out the smell. Frank doubts he’s familiar with the drink, but soon he’ll have it memorized.
“Blue Pedi-lyte,” the baby grumbles before the spout goes right into her mouth and she starts to nurse it. Almost instantly she starts leaning back against Red’s chest and Frank knows right away she’ll be asleep within minutes. 
He checks his phone as he goes to take a seat at the kitchen table. Claire should be here any minute and it's a toss up if Jones comes up or not. He’ll wait until everything is all settled to head out - he does want to make sure you are okay and he’s not going to leave Claire alone with an upset kid and her Dad-devil. 
Frank brings up his texts to Karen to start typing out that the op is a bust, when Murdock’s quiet voice interrupts his train of thought.
“Thank you, Frank.”
“Nothing to thank me for, Red. It’s your family. You don’t gotta explain that to me.”
“Still, thank you, Frank. I mean it. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Murdock.”
---
a/n: frank has entered the chat and assumed Alpha Dad role. his family now.
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