#mamas i’m afraid i ate with this

[zarameraki]

♡₊˚⚜️・₊✧ 𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘀𝘂𝗸𝘂𝗻𝗮'𝘀 𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗱, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱'𝘀 𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 ♡₊˚⚜️・₊✧

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 mdni 𖥔 sukuna is a mafia kingpin 𖥔 teasing grumpy x sunshine 𖥔 pregnancy trope 𖥔 he'll burn the world for you 𖥔 "my wife" 𖥔 he's a great dad 𖥔 mentions of miscarriage 𖥔 mentions of physical and sexual assault 𖥔 mention of parental death 𖥔 major fluff 𖥔 sexual content 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 nsfw 𖥔 he loves eating you out 𖥔 anal play (yup.) 𖥔 last warning: mdni!

: ̗̀➛ words: 6.0k

: ̗̀➛ notes: no bc i love you all so much. it's insane how much you guys have supported my toji fanfic & and my nanami fanfic. i'll def be writing a part two to both of those masterpieces (yes i have self-confidence). as someone who's always imagined sukuna as a mafia leader, i decided to say fuck it and write it. please leave a comment, like, and reblog! thank you & ily. enjoy! (p.s. pregnancy trope>>>)

You never thought you'd be married to Sukuna Ryomen, let alone carrying his kid again. Yet, four years deep into this forced marital mess, thanks to your father owing a hefty debt to the kingpin of the underworld crime syndicate, here you were.

“Look at you, Mrs. Ryomen, radiant as ever!” chirped one of your husband’s associate's wives. You had studied a name list last night, but it all escaped your memory after you passed out from sheer exhaustion.

Sukuna wasn’t keeping a hawk's eye on you like he used to when you first stepped into the public eye. Gone were the days of his glares if you messed up a name. Never once had he laid a finger on you at home, despite your assumption that forgetfulness would earn you a beating.

“Thank you." You forced a smile at the woman, your patience waning as the mayor's birthday party stretched on. It was almost the end of the night, and your feet were protesting from traipsing around in flats. All you craved at that moment was your bed, pronto.

The woman and her husband attempted to capture Sukuna's lukewarm attention through political discussions and expressing gratitude for the illegal artillery shipments from your husband's syndicate. They made no effort to acknowledge your existence by his side.

Your hand rested on your belly, a mere eight months into your pregnancy—a new personal record. The first time you conceived, Sukuna demanded an heir, and you willingly agreed, knowing that the child would provide some distraction in the expansive estate that felt like a cage. Unfortunately, at the two-month mark, you experienced a miscarriage.

Feeling Sukuna's knuckles lightly tapping your back, you straightened your posture momentarily, only to slouch again almost instantly. It was futile. The discomfort of your swollen and cramped belly made it nearly impossible to maintain a poised demeanor in the midst of the party.

Disobeying Sukuna meant facing inevitable death, a fact well understood in his dangerous domain, and you had never dared to challenge that.

"Let's go," Sukuna said, cutting through the incessant chatter of the couple. He didn't grasp your hand, only your fragile wrist, a gesture you didn't mind. Yours was not a typical love; he, Sukuna Ryomen, a most feared monster in the criminal underworld, and you, a sacrificial lamb, a trophy collected three years ago, a means to his heir.

"I'm sorry," you whispered as you exited the venue, heading towards the limousine surrounded by fifteen armed guards under Sukuna's command. "I'm so sorry—"

"Get in the car." He held the door open for you, signaling his guards to disperse and take their positions in the Jeeps parked behind.

Silencing yourself, you cautiously settled into the back seat, and Sukuna joined you, slamming the door with force. His anger was discernible, and the memory of that night, losing your second unborn child to a kidnapping, plagued your dreams. You were uncertain if the nightmares were about Sukuna's wrath upon finding you or the horrors his enemies inflicted on you during your 48-hour captivity.

Sukuna noticed your struggle with the seatbelt and contorted his body toward you. Your fingers released their grip on the belt, allowing him to pull it taut and secure it snugly around your midsection. Click. He withdrew, distancing himself from your face that had been mere inches away.

“Tedious fucking party, anyway,” Sukuna grumbled, his left ankle casually perched on his right kneecap. He always adopted a specific posture, his elbow leaning against something, cheek resting on his knuckles, and his narrow eyes a rich brown that could almost pass for a deep shade of red. He exuded an unrelenting air of intimidation.

"I agree," you unintentionally voiced your thoughts, earning a sidelong glance from him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

His attention barely lingered on you as the car roared to life. You breathed a sigh of relief, stretching out your legs and leaning your head back against the seat's shoulder. Your palm absentmindedly traced circles on your belly. Goosebumps peppered your skin from the frigidness in the car, stirring an involuntary shudder.

"Turn on the heater," Sukuna ordered the driver in his smooth, languid baritone.

"Yes, sir."

As warmth gradually surrounded the backseat, you hummed a small "Thank you" and closed your eyes, enjoying a few moments of peace.

Disorientation clouded your senses, and you dispelled it by rubbing your eyes and using your knuckles to prop yourself against the headboard. A couple of contractions ripped through your gut, causing you to groan and hiss through gritted teeth.

The enormous room was devoid of Sukuna, its black silk sheets hinting at the luxury covering you. The fireplace casted a warm glow, and a soft, dim golden light spilled from the lamp onto the floor.

In the first year of your marriage and pregnancy, your bedroom was located three doors away. You were tended to by on-site nurses and doctors, surrounded by an entourage of maids for company. Days were spent aimlessly wandering the estate, occasionally crossing paths with one of Sukuna's mistresses, their curious smirks evident as they exited his room.

The second year brought a subtle shift. You still slept alone, but now there was a surprising addition of joining Sukuna for dinner. Positioned diagonally from him, an air of restrained silence hung above your head. Yet, between the utensils clattering and quiet chewing, Sukuna's glances toward you and your five-month-old belly revealed your anticipation for the impending arrival of your child.

One of your maids had been instructed to lure you into a private conversation in the back garden, and before you could react, a group of men clad in black drugged you and forcibly removed you from the cage, which in that cruel moment felt like a sanctuary.

Most details of the monstrosities forced upon you in that warehouse have been compressed by your mind—the merciless physical and sexual assault endured for hours. They callously bragged that raping Sukuna's Ryomen's wife was a personal victory, cackling like bloodthirsty hyenas as you bled from your legs. In the thick of your suffering, you lost your second child in a pool of your own sweat and feces.

When Sukuna discovered you, when he annihilated every man along with their bloodlines, you were left as a mere shell of a woman, practically lifeless. You've existed as a walking corpse for quite some time now. Following that dreadful night, you attempted every conceivable means to end your own life—drowning, leaping out of windows, creating a makeshift noose from bed sheets and tying them around balcony railings, teetering on the edge—but every attempt proved useless. Sukuna consistently interfered at the last minute, sweeping in and enveloping you in his arms as you wept until unconsciousness claimed you for days.

Therapy provided some relief, as did the medications. Sukuna heightened security measures tenfold, keeping only those workers who served during his father and grandfather's reigns. He moved your belongings into his bedroom, sleeping by your side with a gun beneath his pillow. There were times when you would doze off in the library while reading, only to wake up in his room.

Two years seemed like an eternity in the slow process of healing, both physically and mentally, from the torment that had befallen you. Stepping into the garden was a reminder of the progress you had made, yet the hope that blossomed in your womb now filled you with a different kind of fear.

You needed your baby. Even if it meant risking your own life during childbirth. The only thing that mattered was the precious life you carried within you, and as long as your baby took that first breath, you'd welcome death with open arms.

Sukuna's bedroom door creaked open, revealing his presence.

Mink-colored tendrils of hair obscured his eyes, disheveled from their usual spiked stance. The stark white of his dress shirt was marred by the unmistakable stains of someone else's blood, and a gun dangled casually from his grasp. In the subdued lighting, his facial markings, inked tattoos designed to mask the scars of his tormented childhood, appeared more ominous than ever.

Without acknowledging your ogling, he briskly entered his bathroom.

You slipped back under the covers, pulling the comforter up to your chin, soothing the sharp twinges in your belly. The rhythmic sounds of his shower served as a background melody. Sukuna took an eternity to freshen up, nearly two hours passing before the door finally creaked open. You had kept a close eye on it, lost in your own world and trying to ignore the persistent contractions. No complaints, though – you were at the eight-month mark, and this baby was determined to make its entrance into the world.

Draped in a sleek black silk robe, Sukuna strolled toward his side of the bed, his eyes locking onto yours. "Why are you still awake?" He tilted his head as if studying an unfamiliar creature. He always regarded you with a curious interest, unearthing some new revelations about you.

"Cramps," you whispered in the dimness, even though the first rays of morning sun began to seep through the curtains.

Sukuna strolled to his side of the bed, lifting the comforter to settle down. "Do you take any medication for it?"

You shook your head. "I don't want to take any risks."

"So you're just going to endure the night with a migraine?"

Your husband seemed oblivious to the concept of cramps. He hadn't bothered to educate himself about your pregnancy or even familiarize himself with basic menstrual cycle terminology. You hesitated to bring attention to his title and position, but he was, after all, born from a woman.

How could he not know?

"Answer me," Sukuna demanded, fixing you with a cold, indifferent gaze. How could two simple words carry such a heavy, intimidating weight? Your entire body shuddered, and you swore you felt your child kick in response to his attitude, causing you to clench your teeth.

"Cramps . . . are something women experience during their period and pregnancy. They're sharp, unpredictable pains in your gut and back," you explained, finding a position that eased the cramps and calmed your baby. "It's worse when you're pregnant—like someone attached a taser to your body without a switch to turn it off."

Sukuna's brow furrowed, and he seemed pissed off as if he held a vendetta against cramps. "Will it have any consequence on the baby?"

You were really trying to be patient. “The baby is the reason why.” 

He ran his hands wearily down his face, casting a stern gaze at the ceiling, his breath quickening. "Is there any way to relieve the pain? Besides medication?"

“Well,” you said slowly, “when I first started menstruating, my mother used to place a warm rubber bottle on my stomach.” The recollection of nights spent groaning, tossing, and turning with your hand clutching your stomach brought a smile. After her passing in high school, you found yourself managing the household, dealing with your drug-addicted father, and taking care of yourself all on your own.

"Come here."

Startled, you shifted your focus to your husband, who raised the comforter like a makeshift tent with one arm. "You don't have to—"

"Come here."

With caution, you edged closer, lying flat and holding your breath. Sukuna propped himself up on one elbow, resting his temple on his knuckles while adjusting the blanket up to your neck. His left hand glided up your sweater and settled on your swollen belly.

An immediate sense of relaxation cocooned you, your eyes closing as warmth radiated from his palm onto your skin. The sensation passed through to your child, who quit kicking within seconds, seemingly recognizing their father's touch. It dawned on you that Sukuna hadn't touched you since you conceived, and you hadn't realized the volume of your misery and longing until this moment.

"Feeling better?"

"Mm-hmm." You nestled your face close to his neck. All you managed to whisper, your voice tinged with brokenness, was, "Please, don't let go."

Sukuna responded only with silence.

You'd woken up screaming bloody-mary.

The security team and maids hurried into the bedroom, their eyes widening at the sight of blood staining your clothes and darkening the black sheets. In a swift response, the doctor and her team of nurses rushed in while Uraume, Sukuna's trusted aide, calmly called for your husband from a corner of the room.

In the heat of your excruciating screams, five nurses attempted to guide your breathing and encourage you to follow a pattern. Guards carefully lifted you into a sitting position, and Uraume decisively cleared the room of all men. The doctor swiftly removed your sweatpants and panties, covering your lower region with a sheet, and instructing you to push.

Your body felt numb, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, and a black vignette closing in on your vision. Your head swayed left and right, on the verge of dropping if not for Uraume's unwavering support. Despite the intensity of your grip, they held steady, their only reaction being a stream of muttered curses amid the chaotic scene.

"I can't—Uraume—"

"You will, Mrs. Sukuna. You have come this far. Giving up now is not an option."

"I don't want to die," you whispered akin to a prayer.

"You won't," they softly replied. "He won't allow it."

Uraume, a silent figure from the past, now stood by your side, offering support and encouragement. The connection with them had been minimal, limited to the formalities of a marital contract signing. They had simply muttered, “He’s not half as evil as they say,” to you before packing up the papers and leaving you in the room with Sukuna.

The room buzzed with affirmations, reassuring you that they could see the baby's head and urging you to push with each breath.

The sound of the baby's cries stirred you awake.

You snapped to attention at the sweet, reassuring sound, realizing that your baby was close to arrival—alive and ready to face the world. Following two heartbreaking miscarriages and the pain endured as Sukuna's wife, the bearer of his lost children, you were finally on the cusp of welcoming motherhood.

"Two more pushes!" The doctor's voice cut through the air.

"AGH!" A guttural growl escaped your throat as you grappled with the harsh sensations. Your body trembled, and waves of fiery discomfort overflowed through your core as you exerted yourself to bring your baby into the world.

"Come on," Uraume whispered. "You can do this, Mrs. Ryomen."

You let out a powerful cry and strained with effort, bringing forth new life. The baby and you were crying at the exact wavelength, competing against who could be louder. The nurses and attendants, familiar faces from your previous pregnancies, clasped their hands in prayer for a safe delivery. Tears of relief streamed down your face as you pushed for your own well-being.

"Blanket!" the doctor urgently called out, prompting a nurse to rush over with a soft cream blanket. "Push!"

With a final, determined push, the weight lifted suddenly.

The slippery sensation of delivering the child and the immediate release of pressure left you slumping against Uraume's shoulder. As they laid you down, the doctor directed the staff to tend to you while the baby's cries filled the air.

The doctor approached through your hazy sight and gently laid your newborn on your chest. Overwhelmed with emotion, you showered your baby with kisses, tears of joy streaming down your face. Your little one was here. They were finally here.

"Congratulations, Mrs. Ryomen," the doctor announced as the cries of your newborn gradually faded into the background. "It's a girl."

You drifted into unconsciousness.

The soft cadence of Sukuna's voice filtered through the foggy boundaries of sleep, causing you to slowly come back to life.

“Why is this brat refusing to sleep?” you heard your husband grumbling.

With a laborious effort, you rubbed your eyes, summoning the strength to lift your head from the comfort of the pillow. The scene unfolded before you—Sukuna, the most feared criminal, pacing at the foot of his bed, cradling your crying newborn daughter in his arms, unsure of how to handle his little foe.

"What do you want? Food? You don’t have any teeth yet, little miscreant."

"Sukuna . . ." you whispered, a gentle plea for attention.

Your husband's gaze snapped in your direction, relief washing over his features as he realized you were conscious. "Thank fuck." Moving swiftly, he approached and took a seat at the edge of the bed.

His brown-reddish eyes lingered on the delicate scene unfolding before him—the intertwining of your index finger with your daughter's tiny, rattling fist. A calming magic seemed to stem from your touch, instantly soothing the cries to soft sniffles.

"Already playing favorites, I see," he remarked with a teasing tone, a wry smile on his lips.

"I have to feed her." Your voice was hoarse from the relentless screaming during the delivery. A series of deadly wheezes followed when you coughed, frightening your baby once more. Her cries started again, blending with the impatient curses of her father.

He gently placed her in the cradle, his strength used to prop you up against the headboard. The room carried the scent of coconut soap, your body freshly washed, the sheets beneath you brand-new. You were also dressed in a new set of panties and a nursing bra.

"Are you sure you have enough nutrients in your body to feed her?" Sukuna asked, holding your baby girl as you unclipped the front left cup. Rather than wasting your breath on a response, you focused on helping your daughter latch onto your nipple.

You winced once she caught it, then melted back as she started drinking. “I’m fine,” you finally answered. “Body . . . hurts.”

"No shit. You pushed an eight-kilo baby out of you." Despite the crude sarcasm in his tone, Sukuna tenderly caressed his knuckles over his daughter's cheek.

"Did you want . . . a girl?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I'm sorry," you mumbled, adjusting your baby onto your lap. "I assumed you'd prefer a boy as an heir."

"I'm not my father," he declared, putting an end to the conversation. "She's got your eyes."

Your daughter gazed up at you with a curiosity remarkably similar to yours. You smiled down at her, grateful she had made it. Grateful that Sukuna wasn't throwing a tantrum over the gender of your child but instead cupping the top of his baby girl's head and brushing his thumb across her forehead.

“You got a name for her?” Sukuna asked.

“Yes, but we can brainstorm if you don’t—”

“You carried the child, you birthed her, you will name her. Whatever it is, I agree.”

Something dead stirred inside your chest. Swallowing hard, you shared the chosen name, "Nobara."

He nodded in approval, and as he pronounced her name, Nobara responded with a wailing cry. "Her tantrums will be the fucking death of me." Sukuna took her into his arms again.

"Support the back of her head and rub her back. She needs to be burped," you advised.

He grunted but followed your instructions. Moments later, a tiny burp from Nobara made you chuckle, earning a slight eye roll and a hint of a smile from him.

"I'll take the next few weeks off to help you recover from the aftermath and the stitches," he announced, rising and walking towards his work desk, where he settled into a large leather chair, cradling your newborn.

You nodded appreciatively, easing yourself down.

"Oh, before I forget," Sukuna mentioned as you settled into bed, "I've arranged a new doctor for you."

“Did you fire the last one?”

“I fired at her, yes.”

Your eyes widened. "What? Why would you—? What?"

He shrugged, cradling the back of your newborn's head. "She suggested an additional stitch for you. Said it would make things 'tighter' down there for me."

Your face flushed. “So . . . you killed her?”

"Yes," he confirmed, his gaze fixed on you with those penetrating eyes, "I don't need a mere doctor questioning whether I'd still enjoy having sex with my wife after she gave birth to our child."

“But . . . you have mistresses. Don’t you?”

He lifted a brow. “I had mistresses up until . . . ”

Up until the kidnapping.

Sukuna never spoke of the crime after he’d saved you. Instead, he expressed his commitment through actions: sleeping beside you, teaching you how to handle a handgun, keeping a protective arm around your waist at social gatherings. Occasionally, you swore you felt him run his fingers through your hair as you slept.

"I wouldn't mind if you did," you admitted, a voice inside contradicting your words. "Given what my body has been through, I would find myself repulsive for pleasure, too. I understand if you feel disgusted."

Sukuna halted the gentle strokes on your daughter's back and straightened up. "What the fuck did you just say?"

An icy shiver ran through you, momentarily numbing the pain. "I-I just assumed—"

"You know, you make a lot of assumptions about me, wife. It gets under my fucking skin that you'd ever believe I could raise a hand on you. Day and night, every hour and minute, even now, in your presence, my mind is consumed with ways to kill the fear that's taken root in you.” He was infuriated yet vulnerable, with Nobara sleeping peacefully on his shoulder. “Everyone I’ve ever met has done nothing but fear me like I’m a curse on their soul, and while I’m flattered of the monster they’ve painted me out to be, I refuse to let my wife and daughter see me in that light. Do I make myself clear?"

You . . . nodded. 

“And for your information, I had mistresses up until I married you.”

You took in a sharp breath, processing the confession. "But those women—"

"Spies," he clarified, his voice low and steady. "They operate undercover in my clubs, keeping an eye out for potential threats. I haven't fucked anyone since the day I put that ring on your finger." He offered a small, almost imperceptible apology to your baby for cursing.

"Oh."

All you ever heard were twisted stories about the Sukuna Ryomen, a young man who, against all odds, slaughtered his own father to ascend the throne of the underworld criminal realm. Whispers spoke of a chilling childhood, where a mother's desperate attempt to suffocate her son in his sleep. The scars etched into his skin, concealed beneath a tapestry of dark markings, bore witness to the brutal initiation rites inflicted by vengeful uncles. In his domain, everyone prayed to see him buried six feet under.

Which is why you felt sympathy for your husband. He was lonely. Too lonely. Despite all the riches and influence surrounding him, he was stuck in a fortress where danger lurked around every corner. He had no friends, no one he could truly confide in—except perhaps Uraume. Opening up about his emotions wasn't in his nature. He kept the tough exterior, convinced that being a monster, a curse, was the only path to earning respect and recognition.

But just now, when had cut himself open in front of you and bled a human color, he was Sukuna. Your husband. The one who just became a father. A man wrapped in a comfortable robe with his hair combed down and his skin clean of dirt and blood as he held his daughter, as he gazed at you like you two were the only people meant fighting for in his treacherous world.

Sukuna noticed your silence, tuned in to your steady breaths, and lowered his lashes. "You'll ask me to touch you. Not just for the sake of having another child but for your own pleasure. If I'm not around and you need me, you will call, and I'll rush home. If this little brat gives you any trouble, I'll handle it. Hell, maybe I'll let her in on a bit of the family business for a head start."

"No," you murmured, absorbing everything he'd just said. "Not now. I want her to enjoy a proper childhood."

"Is that a demand?" Sukuna tilted his head slightly, another method of asserting authority. Yet, after all he'd shared about dropping everything for you, about making love to you, the fear in you started to dissolve bit by bit.

"Yes," you affirmed. "It's a demand."

A small smirk played on Sukuna's lips as he rose from his spot, circled the bed, and settled down beside you, with Nobara resting peacefully on his chest. Summoning all your strength, you turned to run your fingers over your baby's soft cheek and tiny, parted lips.

“She sleeps like you, Mr. Ryomen.”

“Sukuna,” he corrected, his arm covering his eyes as he breathed with a slightly open mouth. “My wife will call me Sukuna.”

Teasingly, you asked, “Is that a demand, Sukuna?”

His arm shifted low, and his reddish-brown eyes softened, stealing your breath. “Only from my wife and daughter.”

You smiled, closing your eyes. “Goodnight, Sukuna.”

In response, he wrapped his strong arm around you, pulling you close to his side, his two girls snuggled against his body.

In the beginning, you knew you didn't belong in the hell Sukuna ruled. Your father's mistakes, pilfering drug shipments and peddling them locally, had sealed both his fate and yours. With thoughts of fleeing the disgrace your father brought upon your family, you had started packing, desperate to escape the clutches of your old man.

The following night, Sukuna and his henchmen barged into your cramped apartment, wreaking havoc on every piece of furniture. Rocking in the corner of your room, Sukuna casted his shadow over you like the God of Death, bathed in your father’s blood.

Crouching down to your eye level, he tipped your chin up, leaving a splotch of blood. He used the collar of your sweater to wipe it away. In a hushed confession, you revealed the hidden drugs under the sink and floorboards, along with your father's buyer list folded in the cereal boxes. Sukuna grinned and ordered his underlings to retrieve the concealed items. Then, the chilling question hung in the air: "Are you going to kill me, too?"

"I'm tempted," Sukuna replied, "but not to kill you." His gaze fixated on your left hand, and he raised it, studying your ring finger. "You will pay for your father's crimes with your life." He held your hand in front of your face. "You will take my last name." His smirk widened, revealing perfect teeth. "Isn't that the cruelest form of death, love?"

Unconsciousness claimed you then, but after seven years of marriage, enduring unimaginable hardships, and finally welcoming a baby into the world, your answer was clear. The true torment wasn't caused by the man you once perceived as a monster but rather by his enemies.

"How am I supposed to know if Mr. Munchkin wants more tea? He's a fucking stuffed toy. Can't talk, you know?"

"Sukuna," you warned, perched on the armrest while busy crocheting baby socks for your little one on the way.

Nobara, wielding a rubber, squeaky hammer, stood up from her seat, giving her father a bonk on the head each time he let out a curse. And you often heard the squeak of the hammer around the house.

Nobara's tiara was slightly askew, frustration evident in her curled lips and bared teeth. She was growing increasingly irritated with her father's lack of understanding about the rules of her tea party. "Mr. Munchkin wants tea, Papa. Give him tea! Give him tea! Give him—"

"Fine, I surrender. Here, you little bastard. Take the whole fu—damn pot." He shoved the plastic teapot towards Mr. Munchkin, a well-loved cat stuffed toy you had gifted Nobara on her last birthday. "Happy?"

"Cup," she insisted, pointing at the tea cup in front of Mr. Munchkin.

Sukuna sighed and poured the water from the kettle into the pink plastic cup.

"Me too," Nobara added, settling back in her kiddie chair. Sukuna had barely taken his seat before she had him on the floor. "Hurry!"

"May I pour for the other toys first, Your Highness?"

"Not toys. Friends."

Sukuna shot you a helpless glare, eliciting a chuckle from you. He filled the table with tea, and Nobara, holding her small cup, clinked it with her father's, followed by her collection of stuffed animals. Sukuna reluctantly mimicked the gesture. Instead of sipping the tea, he downed it like a shot.

“Papa!”

“Sukuna, come on.”

There wasn’t any winning with his girls.

Sukuna reluctantly poured himself another cup, sipping it with an air of reluctance that mirrored a princess. Despite his resistance to the make-believe tea party, you couldn't ignore the genuine affection he showed toward his daughter. He would nod attentively when one of the stuffed animals "spoke," laughed along with Nobara, and even beautified himself with a glittering tiara, a feathered pink scarf, and deep purple-painted nails.

Sukuna was, without a doubt, a fantastic father. It came as no surprise that Nobara's first word was 'Brat.'

That night, you kissed your daughter goodnight and tucked her into her bed. Sukuna joked that he’d spent every last bit of his wealth decorating the brat’s room, filling it with the latest toys, and stacking her closet with whatever clothes she laid her finger or eyes on. She was truly the princess of her father’s heart.

"She's asleep," you informed him.

"I'll give her a kiss in a minute. Just need to finish this," Sukuna replied, pouring over his documents.

Letting out a sigh, you shuffled over, rolled back his chair, and settled onto his lap. He continued reading as you wrapped your arms around his neck, resting your cheek on his shoulder, peering at him through your lashes.

"I want you," you murmured.

Sukuna paused, lowering his gaze to meet your cheeky smile. "Later."

"It's late."

"I have to finish—" He halted as you began kissing his neck, moving up to his jaw and cheeks, tracing the contours of his face tattoos.

"Please, Sukuna," you whispered near his ear.

How could he refuse you anything when you appeared so stunning, radiating with the joy of expecting another child in your four-month-old belly?

“Take off your robe and get on the bed. Spread your legs for me.” He gave your ass a little smack as you happily skipped away, shedding your clothes and clearing the bed to settle in. With a grin, you opened your legs, propping yourself up on your elbows.

Sukuna stood up from his seat, loosening his robe as he did. He sighed, watching the moisture forming between your legs. Pregnancy seemed to heighten your lusts, and Sukuna was always ready to fulfill your needs.

“What pretty, wet cunt,” he whispered softly, leaning in to kiss your chest, trailing down to your stomach, your hips, your calling clit. 

Over the years, you realized Sukuna enjoyed pleasuring you more than the opposite. He feasted on you like a starved man, whether it happened in the back of the limo, in a guest room during a party, or just minutes before a crucial meeting in his office. He insisted it was his way of relaxing, often pleading with you to spend a full hour on his face as he ate you out and drank every drop of your release. It had turned into a daily routine for him. And for you.

“Oh, Sukuna, yes, yes. Right there—ah!” Your back arched off the mattress when his tongue drove into your hole, flicking and exploring your clamping walls. His mouth was latched to your pussy, sucking it in, his cheeks hollowing rapidly. Your fingers tightened in his hair, hips voluntarily grating against his face, his sharp nose rubbing over your swollen clit. 

Sukuna drew back as you came down with a muted cry behind your hand and lapped at the flow of your juices pouring out of you. His lips shone as he leaned over and gently kissed you, allowing you to taste yourself from his tongue. “If I don’t fuck you now, I will die.” 

“Hurry, then.” 

Sukuna pushed himself inside you, and that first wave of pleasure hit you so strongly that you sank your nails in his back and cried out heavenwards. He groaned and grunted, thrusts growing speed, his plump balls smacking against your ass. You loved that he fucked harder, faster, driving you to the brink of ruination. 

After you'd healed from Nobara's birth, he would always make sure to get at least ten orgasms from you. From midnight to early morning, he'd fuck you in every possible position. But his favorite was always missionary, where he could have his eyes on you, writhing and whimpering beneath him, telling him it’s too much, he's too thick, all while using your heels to draw him in even closer.

Sukuna curled his arm around your waist and sat you up on his lap, thrusting up into you as you coiled yourself around his neck. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. Your cunt was made for me, love. Your cunt was fucking made for me.” His hand threaded to the back of your head, grasping your hair and drawing your face back so you were looking him in the eyes without wavering, without bowing your head. He needed to know you didn’t fear him when he fucked you like this. It was an unspoken check-in, and when you smiled drunkenly, only then did he let you return to embracing him. 

“Are you close?” you whispered. 

“Not yet. I want to come in your ass.” 

You shivered despite how scalding and sweaty your bodies were. “Do it.” 

“Yeah?” 

You nodded. “Please.” 

Sukuna dragged you off his cock so you could get on all-fours, raising your ass up for him. He’s only ever been in your sacred spot a handful of times but never finished himself inside it. It appeared that tonight you were both a little extra spellbound.

Mounting himself behind you, Sukuna unfurled your ass and spit on his fingers, stroking the puckered hole. He gathered the creamy liquid dripping out of your pussy to lubricate the spot. His middle finger stretched you out, followed by his ring fingers, pushing in and out until he knew for sure you were prepared for him. 

Sukuna’s steel-hard cock pushed into your tiny hole. The sight of it expanding to swallow his girthy size almost made him come right there and then. He started to move in sluggish movement, grabbing onto your waist. His hips cruised, brushing against your ass, making you impatient and push yourself back. 

“Understood.” He chuckled and dug his nails into your skin, dragging out to the tip and shoving himself inside. Your face pressed into your pillows, crying and trembling as he abused your asshole non-stop. “You’re taking me so well, my love. Oh, fuck, fuck.” He rutted into you like a beast, claiming your body, rubbing your clit from the front, spanking your ass, brandishing you over and over again. 

You both snapped in unison. 

Sukuna sagged over your spine as he bucked in every last bit of his sloppy seed. His lips kissed your shoulder blades, holding you up by one arm. Gently, he pulled out, his cock growing floppy until you flipped onto your back, hair sticking to your sweaty, flushed face, belly slightly swollen, your tits larger in size, his release mingled with yours seeping out from your holes. 

“Fuck, I love you,” he whispered, cupping your face like he didn’t just fuck your soul out of you. That smirk you’d come to love appeared on his lips. You reciprocated back, stretching out your arms so he could lean down and kiss you sweetly on the lips and cheeks and toss in a praise or two for what a good girl you were as he slid into you again, slower and more intimate with his game. “I fucking love you, Y/N.” 

You smiled against his lips that continuously whispered the three beautiful words and said, “I love you, too, Sukuna,” before sealing it with a long, lasting kiss.

#mamas i’m afraid i ate with this #sukuna ryoumen x reader #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #sukuna imagine #sukuna x female reader #sukuna smut #jujutsu kaisen x female reader #sukuna x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #jjk x female reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x y/n #zaraswriting

[wol-fica]

-𝕎𝕠𝕖 𝕀𝕤 𝕄𝕖?- ℙ𝕋𝟜

pairings - wenclair x daughter!reader

summary - closer comes with apologies to your mothers, but will that peace last?

warnings - none

an - you can read this while you wait for the new smut fic

————————

Humans are creatures of prescribed non-perfection.

No matter how hard one tries, they will never be the best version of themselves. They will never fit the puzzle piece of a perfect society member, and they will always have at least one thing wrong with them. 

With you, your imperfections came at an alarming rate and were exceedingly wrong in most people’s eyes. Instead of playing with barbie’s as a kid, you played with knives and ouija boards. Instead of running around at the playground with Luka, you chose to snatch kids and drag them into the woods while they screamed and cried for their mommies. While every other “normal” child grew up to do normal things, you stuck with the abnormal side of the world.

In simple terms, you were just weird.

“I don’t understand.” Luka said, eyeing you carefully while you ate your salad, “You told mom and mama that you didn’t love them anymore?”

“Contrary, I just told them I wish they weren’t my parents.” You replied, chewing on a cucumber while you read your book.

“Basically the same thing.”

“No it isn’t.”

“Ehhh it sounds the same.”

“Luka.” You said, setting your fork down and turning to him, “Stop pestering me about it.”

“But-.” He started before trailing off when he saw the look you were giving him, “Okay.”

You nodded, reaching over to give his shoulder a gentle pat. He smiled at you, then turned back to his own lunch; raw cow thigh. It was still parents weekend, but the rest of your family wouldn’t be joining you until later for the carnival hangout.

You weren’t nervous, that’s not the word you would use, but you definitely were feeling uneasy about being around your parents. You knew how your mothers temper could get, especially if your mom was upset about something. You’ve never been in the line of fire with her temper, but you have witnessed the twins getting the heat on their necks from time to time. 

To say it’s scary is an understatement, the way she yelled at them was a terrifying sight to see. Your mother was one of the very few things you were afraid of, hence why you steered clear of getting into trouble with her when she was angry.

Unfortunately, now you were the center of her frustration due to your honest comments about how you felt neglected, which ultimately leads to her being salty with you all of the carnival day. At the moment, Luka was dragging you around to each and every game he could find, your brothers are your heels while your parents trailed behind.

“Oooh, Y/N look! You could totally beat that one!” Louis said, pushing you towards an archery game. 

You scowled, shrugging his hands off of you to turn to face the game clerk. He held his hand out for money to play, and Luka slapped five dollars into his hand with a smile.

“Our sister is gonna dominate this game.” Louis yelled, sneering at the game clerk.

“And she will make sure none beat her name.” Leo added on, a devious smile on his face.

“Ten for ten?” Luka asked from your right, watching as you picked up the cheap bow, “Should I bet on you?”

Your lips quirked into a small smirk, your eyes flickering to him, “If you do, you’ll definitely be rich.”

You drew back the first arrow, staring into your brother's icy blue eyes, and let go. The arrow flew forward, and pierced right through the center of the first target. Your brothers cheered, clearly happy with how your first shot went. To your left, you could just barely pick up on your mom lightly clapping, while your mother brooded next to her. 

“Yeah, you will be rich.” You mumbled to Luka before hitting the next nine shots perfectly. 

“That’s why you’re my favorite sister.” He chuckled, taking the large teddy bear from the now butthurt game clerk.

“I’m your only sister.”

“Exactly!”

You rolled your eyes, taking your bag from him and slinging it over your shoulder. Louis and Leo hurried past you and looped their arms into Luka’s, dragging him away towards an ongoing hotdog eating contest. You turned, just in time to see Wednesday hurry past you to follow them. Soon you were left alone with your mom, an awkward silence between the two of you. 

“Your archery has gotten better.” Enid said, walking closer until she stood beside you, “Have you been practicing with Xavier’s daughter?”

“Yes, Mika has been giving me tips.” You replied, eyes trained on Luka stuffing his face with four hotdogs. 

Another pregnant pause, one that made a bubbly feeling of anxiety rise in your throat. Your hands started to feel clammy, but before you could say anything, your mom beat you to it.

“I know you didn’t mean what you said.” She murmured, staring at you with warm eyes, “At least I hope you didn’t.”

You nodded, silently agreeing with her words. She smiled, and moved closer to bump her shoulder against yours in a playful way.

“Wednesday is upset,” She began, reaching out to brush a lock of hair behind your ear, “But I’m positive she would be happy if you apologized.”

You nodded again, sniffling softly as tears made their way to your eyes. Your mom picked up on that, and was quick to pull you into a hug. Your arms immediately went around her body, nuzzling your face into her chest for comfort as you tried to suppress your sobs.

“It’s okay.” Enid said, her lips pressing to your temple, “You are always allowed to cry.” 

At her words you broke, letting the tears fall down your face and into her sweater as you hiccuped and cried into her chest. She rubbed your back, whispering words of comfort into your ear while she held you.

“I’m sorry.” You whimpered, tightening your hold on her, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean any of it.”

“I know, I know.” Your mom cooed, softly cradling your head, “It’s okay, I forgive you baby.”

You cried quietly, your sobs soon shrinking down to sniffles against her colorful sweater. She held you close, gently swaying from side to side to help calm you down. You vaguely heard footsteps approaching, but your senses were overwhelmed with tears and your mom that you couldn’t comprehend who they belonged to.

“Hey Y/N/N.” Enid whispered, giving you a small squeeze, “Wednesday is here.”

You sucked in a breath, leaning back to look up to your mother, meeting her black eyes. Her gaze was softer than usual, yet still held its brooding demeanor. You gulped, choosing to stare at the ground instead of her.

“I’m sorry…for saying what I said.” You mumbled, playing with your hands, “I didn’t mean it, and I never will.”

Enid had her hand on your back, gently caressing up and down to help calm you. You stood in silence, expecting your mother to rain hellfire down on you, but nothing came. 

Instead, she moved forward and pulled you into her arms, giving you a tight hug. You stiffened, unsure of what to do since your mother almost NEVER gave hugs. She held you, pulling your body close to hers.

“I forgive you.” Wednesday said, pulling back to look at you, “Thank you for apologizing.”

You nodded, feeling a bit awkward just standing there. Enid came up next to you, leaning over to whisper something in your mothers ear. She smiled and nodded, but before you could even question anything, Luka comes barreling out of nowhere with a trophy in his hand and mustard all over his face.

“I WON!” He screamed, almost tackling you to the ground, “158 HOTDOGS!”

“Amazing.” You said sarcastically, pushing him off of you, “You smell like mustard, get away from me.”

He gave you a cheesy grin and turned to your mom, showing her the trophy in which she squealed to. The twins ran up with their own miniature trophies, and soon the four werewolves were jumping up and down in pure joy. You scowled at the sight, glancing at your mother who wore the same exact look, and let out a little laugh.

“What’s so funny.” She asked, turning to you.

“None of your business.” You shot back.

“It is my business if you’re laughing at me.”

“Who said I was laughing at you? Is everything about you?”

Wednesday snorted, pulling you into a side hug with a kiss to the top of your head. You hummed, leaning your head on her shoulder while your arm went around her. 

“Thank you for forgiving me.” You said, looking up at your mother.

“Of course, I’ll always forgive you.” She replied, a small smile at the sight of her family in front of her.

“I…I love you mama.” You mumbled, tucking yourself closer into her side.

Wednesday froze up, and looked down at you, taking in the fact you said that before smiling warmly.

“I love you too, bonita niña.”

———————————

taglist: @cartierdreamx@tundra1029@red1culous@vorsdany@andsoigotabutterfly@theafterofnevermore@yomomisgay@house-of-lovin@slvt4lanadelrey@thenextdawn@nepobaby08@dunohilly@somekindofpoet@alexkolax@cinffy23@pedrosprincess@amberfreemansburntface@myfturn

#jenna ortega #wednesday addams x reader #jenna #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday adams imagine #ortega #wednesday #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday fanfic #wednesday imagine #wednesday series #incorrect wednesday quotes #netflix wednesday #wednesday 2022 #wednesday adams x reader #wednesday addams #wednesday addams fluff #wednesday and enid #wednesday fic #wednesday fluff #wednesday headcanons #wednesday netflix #wednesday tv show #wednesday x enid #wednesday x reader #wednesday x y/n #wednesday x you #wednesdayedit #wednesdaynetflix #wednsday addams

[imtooscaredforthis]

Entrapment

Chapter Twenty Four: Unexpected

Mentions of: Dubcon/noncon themes, stabbing, death, and murder, etc.

A/N: some more pervy Johnny for you lmao

Tags: @dead-bxxxtch-walking @mama-miya @moonshineinasippycup @stwbwwychan @vandeaad @the-fandoms-georgie

“I feel like we haven’t talked in forever. How are you? How is everything?” Rachel asked as the two of you exited the building together and walked to the parking lot.

“I’m good. Work has been pretty good. Jed is a great partner.” You admitted with a shrug.

“I’m sure he is. You guys getting along good?” She asked with a teasing grin. “Yeah- what’s that look for?”

“Nothing. So you guys are close?” You don’t like where this is going.

“I mean, yeah- but..” You scoffed when you noticed Rachel’s smug grin. She’s onto you.

“Will you quit it? He and I are just friends. He’s like a brother to me.” You lied.

Rachel laughed at that. “Bullshit. I’m not dumb. I can tell when two people are fucking, and you and Jed totally are. But don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. No judgment here.”

Before you could finish your conversation, the two of you split up, and she went to her car, while you walked home. You looked over your shoulder to make sure the coast was clear before you called after her.

“Jed and I aren’t- we’re not fucking, okay?! We’re just friends.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night, babe!” She called back. You rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you walked off, trying to ignore how flustered she had gotten you.

It’s fine. She won’t tell anyone. At worst she’ll just keep teasing you like this. Even if it was annoying, there wasn’t much you could do about it.

—

Once you got back home, you changed your clothes and had a glass of wine to wind down. But you didn’t relax, no. You never relax anymore. How could you when you know he’s still out there, harming more innocent people? Jesse, Lucia and Nate all deserved justice. You weren’t going to rest until you got it for them.

As you ate your dinner, you stared at the bulletin board you put up on your wall, with pictures of Ghostface’s victims, reports of his last sightings, and anything you could find. You managed to make some connections as to where he would find his victims.

You did find quite a few that went to Walleye’s but there were still inconsistencies here and there. All you knew was that most of them were average people, middle class and normal, which makes it even harder for him to figure out who he’s after next.

You stared at the board for a little while, before sitting down on your couch, running a hand through your hair. With all the time you had been spending with Jed, you haven’t been able to focus much on this. But today, he was out sick, giving you more room to think about Ghostface, even if you didn’t want to.

With a frustrated sigh, you grabbed the remote, clicking on the TV.

“Breaking news: Couple Marie and Carlton Thomas have been found dead in their home this afternoon.”

You stared at the screen in complete shock as a photo of them flashed onto the tv, listening as it continued. “The couple was found by a neighbor this evening when they noticed that their back door was open and their dog had escaped. They were stabbed to death, both having almost twenty wounds each. So the question we’re all wondering is: could this be another Ghostface murder?”

“We’re still figuring out motives, but the possibility is there. We’re working as hard as we can to catch this guy and all we can say right now is follow the curfew and lock your doors at night, and if you see anything suspicious, don’t be afraid to say something.” The sheriff said.

You couldn’t watch any more of this bullshit. You reached over and shut off the tv, sighing softly. Staring at the black reflection of the screen, you realized someone was standing behind you.

“Boo.” You sprung up from the couch, gasping in surprise. You turned on your heel trying to face him straight on. You moved so fast that you stumbled forward, causing him to catch you.

“Careful there, sweetheart, we don’t want you getting hurt do we?” Ghostface cooed in that same condescending tone. You tore yourself from his grip, glowering at him.

You stepped back into the kitchen, grabbing a knife and raising it threateningly. “Stay the fuck away from me.”

How did he even get in? How did you not notice him? He has been standing behind you while you were watching, and you were completely vulnerable. He could’ve easily killed you, but he didn’t. He was toying with you.

“Oh, come on, Dollface. Don’t be like that. I missed you. And from what I can tell, you missed me too.” He gestured to the bulletin board on your wall, before walking over to you. He took slow steps, like a predator ready to pounce.

Just because he didn’t want to kill you didn’t mean he didn’t want to hurt you..but you knew attacking him would only end badly. You lowered the knife slightly, but didn’t let it go.

He moved swiftly, grabbing your wrist and slamming it against the wall, making you drop the knife. “There you go. Good girl.”

“What do you want from me?” You couldn’t help but ask, angry and fearful. “What? Can’t we just have a nice little chat? You’re the one who pulled out the knife.”

He released your wrist, letting you go. “I think it’s time we catch up. You’ve been doing a lot lately, haven’t you? Had a lot of fun with your little Boy Scout?”

“Boy Scout? You mean-”

“Your little boyfriend? Jeb or Jed or whatever? The one who’s helping you write articles on me? Yeah, him. I’ve been watching you two..and you really seemed to be enjoying yourself, slut.”

You felt yourself grow flustered from humiliation and embarrassment. “Don’t hurt him.”

“Awww you want to protect him, how sweet. Don’t worry, toots. I’m not planning on it. As long as you behave, that is. Though I will say, I am jealous.” You felt his other arm hook around your back, the cool blade pressing into you and making you arch forward and into his touch, and his hand moved from your wrist to your chin, tilting your head upward while he examined your body.

“Such a pretty thing. I wouldn’t mind having you myself.” He pressed his knife into your back, forcing your waist to press against his, feeling his hardness.

He forced your shirt upwards, and you tried to stop him, but he smacked your hands away. He smirked. “No bra? How naughty.”

He eyed your tits, while you squirmed slightly in his grip, trying to get him to stop, but the harsh press of his knife and his groin managed to get you to still. His gloved hand caressed your breasts, before sliding down to your stomach.

“Yeah, we’re definitely gonna have some fun later.” You could hear the lust and smugness in his voice.

“What makes you think I would want to do any of that with you? I don’t even want to touch you! I hate you!” You hissed in disgust.

“Oh, I know you do. But you don’t have a choice do you? Not if you want your friends to live.” He leaned over and pressed his mask to your ear, his voice lowering. “You think Jed’s good? I’ll have you screaming and crying for me. And you’ll love it like the good little whore you are.”

He slightly ground his hardness against you, and you bit your lip to hold back a whimper. He removed his knife from your back, pressing it against your front instead. With the flick of his wrist, he cut your stomach, causing you to cry out.

“Just something to remember me by. Don’t worry, I’ll be back, and we’ll have fun very soon.”

He let you go, stalking off into your bedroom, and leaving out the side window onto the fire escape.

Yeah, you need to change your locks.

#dead by deadlight #dbd #dbd killer #dbd x reader #killer x reader #dbd ghostface #ghostface dbd #ghostface dead by daylight #ghostface fanfiction #ghostface smut #ghostface x reader #jed olsen dbd #dbd jed olsen #danny jed olsen johnson #jed olsen x reader #danny johnson dbd #dbd danny #dbd danny johnson #danny johnson x reader #danny johnson #ghostface fanfic

[romanoffsbish]

Mom, Dad, I’m…

Wanda Maximoff x R

Blackhill ; Bishova ; Stony ; BuckySam

Happy Pride Angels, 🌈❤️

Warnings: Attempts at Humor. Heteros.

"Detka, can you go get some tomatoes from the garden? Steve already ate all of the freaking salsa," Wanda grumbled dramatically, falling into your arms as you were mid conversation with Natasha and Maria about their work.

"He probably intended to bottom tonight," Natasha remarks with a shit stirring grin, you cackled in solidarity, but the both of you stopped when your wives stood shoulder to shoulder with a menacing tilt to their heads.

——

"Welp, those tomatoes aren't gonna pick themselves," you noted before running off, you avoided looking back, afraid to see Natasha's stony glare as you abandoned her with them.

Every man for themselves a mantra you live by, well, only when it comes to angry spouses. As an Avenger you were as selfless as the rest, but now you got to be more selfish in retirement.

Natasha, unfortunately, was your victim.

When you entered the massive greenhouse you took a second to admire your wives handiwork. The brunette had a knack for gardening, a green thumb if you will. The greenhouse was her go to place to find her zen after a day of dealing with you, Billy, Tommy, and Ella.

The witch loved you all, her beautiful family, but some days the lot of you made her feel a tad bit homicidal. On those days she gardened.

It wasn't hard to find the tomatoes, they were ripe and ready on a set of entangled vines. But before you could bring it to her, you were too enamored by the conversation your kids were having in their little cove behind the garden.

"I can't do it," Tommy groaned. "Yeah they just won't understand," Morgan Stark agreed with him, and you leaned in to hopefully garner more context for their troubled minds.

"At least Uncle Tony is bi," Raina Belova countered, "He'll be more understanding."

"Have you met our dad?" Anthony, the only Jr present, said in an incredulous manner. "He even claims Fido is gay, he's totally unhinged."

You had to put a hand over your mouth, the amusement you were experiencing was unreal.

"Couldn't be us," Elena teased, "I'm gay as hell, and Bryce here is both queer and nonbinary."

Oh goodness... Never in your days did you expect your kids to keep secrets from you, but for it to be such a silly one it honestly made you want to interrupt the conversation at hand.

To remind them that no matter what, you'd all continue to love them, but it was too funny.

"Mama is going to be mad," Celeste Belova added, "She always said being gay is the way."

"I thought she was ace?" Billy inquired. "She is, but that doesn't make her any less gay."

After the conversation moved on to who they were crushing on you snuck back to the party. The overall consensus being that every last one of your collective brood, besides your youngest, Ella, who was only five, and Natasha and Maria's powerful duo, said they're straight.

"Where have you been?" You ignored your wife, handing her the basket of ingredients while calling all of your friends to the dining room. Tony whined, "What is so important?"

"You guys will not believe what I just heard..."

Wanda rolled her eyes as you spun your tale, she chopped up the tomatoes, jalapeños and onions as you enamored the group of friends.

"Thank God we're safe," Maria teased, turning to her wife with a genuinely relieved smile. "Right? Can you imagine having to attend two straight weddings? And pretend to like it?"

"Oh jeez," you gasped, "I didn't think of that."

Wanda tossed the ingredients into a bowl as the lot of you bantered back and forth, her patience already running thin with you all.

"Y/N, this joke isn't funny." Yelena shook her head in defiance when you reminded her that this wasn't a joke. "You don't know what you are talking about. Must be hearing loss..."

Kate put a hand on her wife's shoulder, "It's true Lena, they've both told me already."

"You traitor!" Yelena ripped her arm away as if the raven haired woman had burned her skin.

You now worried that you'd inspired divorces.

"No," Tony gasped, shaking his head in fear as the unexpected reality set in. "You're lying, you have to be. No son of mine is straight!"

"Honey," Steve called out for him, "It'll be okay, we always knew it would be a possibility."

"It most certainly is not okay," he grimaced, then in a flash he was outside, calling for your children to gather around the hibachi station.

"Where's the fire pops?" Morgan jests, but quickly zips her lips as she sees her dad looking as if he was on the verge of a breakdown.

"Tell me Y/N's lying," he pleads, "That you're not straight, my fragile ticker can't take this."

"Tony!" Steve shrieked, "Don't use an old ailment to guilt the kids into being gay..."

"Stay out of this babe!" He growled, "As far as I am concerned they're gay. Y/N's a liar."

"Am not!" You gasped, "They're all heteros."

"Not us!" Bryce interjected. "We're queer."

"That's our precious babies," Natasha coo'd, arms opened wide for her kids to run into, and the both of their teens instantly ran at her.

Bucky and Sam had entered your backyard just as the revelation took place. You all watched as they took three steps back, baby carrier in hand as they looked to your kids as if they were all diseased. "We're just being cautious."

You snorted softly, "We understand fellas."

Wanda glared at you, but you remained unfazed for now. Too busy finding the dramatics entertaining to see the horror. Wanda saw it though, she looked out to see all of the kids wearing terrified expressions. She was about to console them, but then a fight broke out beside you, and you had to laugh.

"This is all your fault Kate Belova!" Yelena shrieked, "It was all of that organic mac and cheese you fed them when I was on missions!"

"Mac and cheese being healthy doesn't make a child straight," Kate shrieked back, hands running down her face as she realized her plans for a peaceful barbecue ended with this.

"If it had been orange they might have been more connected to the rainbow Kate!" Yelena went on, "It's like our gay power source."

"Well, with Wanda's garden the kids eat the entire rainbow and look at them, straight."

Yelena found your assistance unwelcome, "Keep out of this Y/N Maximoff. Your kids aren't all old enough to say yet, you still have a chance! Mine are all done... Stupid preteens"

"Well, that's not exactly true," you reasoned, "None of you have been to college yet, that's when you'll really know if you're gay or not."

Natasha, Yelena and Tony all nodded, they found your reasoning the most logical. It was a lot easier than accepting they're all straight.

"Okay, that's enough!" Wanda interjected, her tone terrifying, "Look at what you're doing to them. They can't help it if they're straight."

"I wanna be gay like mama," Ella murmured, clearly she just wanted to fit in with the crowd, and therefore you praised her, "Smart girl."

Wanda entered your mind with a warning, she smirked as you lifted Ella onto your hip, then you fell into unexpected silence by her side.

"Haha, you're like so whipped, "Yelena cackled.

Wanda glared at her. "You don't scare me wiggly woo, my kids being straight is enough."

"Yelena," Kate sighed, "Knock it off, and try telling the girls that you love them."

"Of course I love them," she rushed out angrily, "That's not even a question, they're moy deti."

(My babies)

Celeste and Raina ran into the blondes side, their tears of relief soaked into her shirt, and made her see they were genuinely scared this would lose them her love. "Shh, mama loves you always, even if you make dumb choices."

Tony and Steve were in a standoff of sorts, the billionaire sipped on his margarita slowly as they appeared to be having a conversation with only their eyes. Tony rolled his, but after a moment of incoherent grumbling he nodded. Morgan and Tony Jr. approached their dads after being called forward, Steve embraced them first, and wholly. Tony gave them both side hugs, and whispered that he just needed time to cope, but he loved them regardless.

Then you heard him brush by with his son, begging him to take it back, only to find out his son was in a long term relationship with a girl. That study buddy of his was so much more...

Like father, like son you suppose.

You looked out to see your boys stood side by side, Billy gripped Tommy's hand for dear life. Wanda was about to call them over, but you beat her to it as guilt overwhelmed your heart. The boys scurried over, and Wanda sent you an adoring smile as you kissed the both of their heads, and hugged them tight. "I love you," falling from all of your lips in succession.

After everyone had time to process the news, the vibe returned to one of relaxation. Wanda set up the grill for Sam, and the master chef himself began to put on a show for everyone.

Once the plates were served you all moved to the fire pit, where you talked about all you'd missed in each other's life while the younger kids sat in front of the projector playing Up.

Then, as the sun officially fell, everyone began to clear out. Saying their goodbyes at the front door, where you hugged each kid, an apology of sorts on your lip for the drama you stirred. Each one forgave you, some even thanked you for finally getting the conversation over with.

When everyone was officially gone you moved back outside to clean up. Tommy helped you, while Billy helped clean the kitchen so that Wanda could focus on Ella's bath, and bedtime.

It was an entire hours worth of work, you were beyond exhausted as you fell into the mattress. You nearly passed out without your wife, but soon enough Wanda slipped into the bed. She wore a thoughtful expression, weighing out whether to disturb you or not, but she soon reasoned you'd appreciate her words, "Detka..."

"Yes baby?" You rolled onto your side, using your elbow to prop yourself up so you could look down at her. She looked to you with a warm smile, then she was yawning, "Don't worry." She paused to pull you into her arms before whispering in your ear: "Billy was not being honest. We do indeed have a gay son."

You laughed so hard tears streamed down your face and pooled in the crook of your equally as amused wife's neck. That was the last thing you expected to hear from her, if anything you had anticipated a continuation of her scolding.

"I'll scold you more tomorrow," she teased, "But for now, we should get some sleep."

——

1,844 Words

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff oneshot #wanda maximoff fic #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda x y/n #wanda x you #wanda x fem!reader #wanda x reader #natasha romanoff #maria hill #blackhill #natasha x maria #steve rogers #tony stark #steve x tony #stony #kate bishop #yelena belova #kate x yelena #bishova #sam wilson #bucky barnes #sam x bucky #sambucky #queued post

[noteveryoneis]

Ava is not late, thank you very much. She’s running because she wants to, definitely not because Adriel-fuckface held her back even though she made it very clear she needed to go. And sure, the only reason Sheriff Kristian Shaefer hasn’t arrested her yet was because she was speeding way too fast and he couldn’t catch her, but she was simply practicing her speed driving skills.

She runs past Superion’s office, the woman scrambling to her feet with a scandalized gasp, but Ava is already out of reach.

“Ava Silva, don’t you dare run in my school!”

Her school, big words, Duretti is still the alleged principal even though she’s basically running this whole thing herself. Still, Ava cannot help but smile to herself, grinning as she realizes that nothing has changed.

She is still Ava Silva, their town’s troublemaker and microwave blower, still the example parents use to scare their kids into the right path. Still the reason behind Superion’s gray hair. She rounds up the corner, climbs up the stairs two at a time, basically swings the door open to run through the corridor. She runs past Nina’s classroom, stops so fast she nearly falls forward, turns around and runs back to catch herself on the doorframe, out of breath.

Teacher-Slash-Hot-Neighbor-Slash-Resident-Nerd Beatrice is sitting completely still at her desk, staring back at Ava like she just can’t believe her eyes. For a minute here, Ava is afraid of getting scolded and getting sent to detention, it takes her a couple of seconds to remember that she’s a grown adult and that Teacher Beatrice (Miss Young?) doesn’t have authority over her.

“Sorry!” She says, taking off her cap and running a hand through her hair. “I’m so sorry, I just didn’t want to be late because my boss was being a di— uh… Annoying.”

She smiles as Miss Young stands up, shaking her hand without a word.

“I apologize for making you wait,” Ava still says, just in case, because her mama didn’t raise her to be rude (Mama barely raised her at all, actually).

“It’s alright, nothing to worry about,” Miss Young says, closing the door behind Ava and coming back to her desk and leaning back against it. “I think you’ll understand if I don’t offer for you to sit behind a desk.”

Yeah, no, there’s no way Ava can fit on one of those tiny chairs, plus it would be really humiliating. Instead, she settles for leaning against the first table, putting her cap on the desk and nervously adjusting the collar of her shirt.

“Mrs. Silva—”

“Look, I’m really sorry about Nina’s marijuana joke,” Ava says, barely breathing as she speaks. “One of my friends hasn’t adjusted to little ears yet, she’s working on it. And I’ve talked about it with Nina and she understands what she did wrong. She promised she would never do it again.”

“I’m— That isn’t the problem,” Miss Young says, looking slightly dumbfounded.

“Oh, you found it funny then?” Ava asks.

Miss Young only offers a polite smile, looking down at her shoes.

“I can’t have Duretti hear that my students are telling each other inappropriate jokes in my class.”

“I didn’t hear a no,” Ava teases, because it’s her default, and also it makes Miss Young adorably blush and she likes that color on her.

“This isn’t about the marijuana joke, Mrs. Silva.”

“It’s Miss,” Ava says, dismissing it with a wave of her hand. “Okay, then, what has she done? Made something blow up in science class? Ate a crayon? She tried eating soap the other day, she wanted to breathe out bubbles.”

Miss Young looks like she’s trying really hard to decide between laughing and slapping a hand over Ava’s mouth to get her to stop talking.

“Nina has… A lot of energy. She is a very lively girl, and she has a good heart, but I’m not here to talk about her. I want to talk about your other daughter.”

“You know Neves?” Ava asks, frowning in confusion. “I thought it was someone named Yasmine teaching her, why would you be the one talking about her?”

“Your other daughter, Miss Silva,” Miss Young says, a sharp edge to her voice. “Novalee.”

“Nova,” Ava corrects, almost instinctively. “She hates that name.”

Mostly because she thinks Ava named her after Natalie Portman’s character in the ‘Walmart baby movie’, and although, yes, hearing it made her decide, it’s not where that idea comes from. And now she has three kids whose names all look the same, and she can’t even explain it wasn’t her fault (JC was also to blame for that one).

Still, her brain takes a few seconds to follow after what Miss Young has said.

“Are you sure you have the right kid?”

“Yes, are you saying that your daughter isn’t worth talking about?” Miss Young asks, narrowing her eyes like she’s about to call Ava an unfit parent (she wouldn’t be the first).

“Oh, I could talk about her for hours, but you’re the first teacher to ask to meet me to do that.”

Miss Young relaxes, nodding.

“I’m guessing not many of her teachers have paid attention to her?”

“Yeah, they usually write that she needs to talk more on her assessments and move on,” Ava says.

And every time her father would sit her down at the kitchen table and try to talk some sense into her (and Nova would end up crying in Ava’s arms and it would start another fight between her parents), but Ava never really cared for it. Teachers never cared much for her daughter, as she didn’t make noise and they could focus on other students (and yes, it made Ava realize how much of a nightmare she probably was for every quiet kid that was stuck in her class back in the days). What Ava cared about, it was her soul, her spirit, things she loved and were driving her forward.

School wasn’t one of those things.

“That's what I thought,” Miss Young nodded. “Her other professors are saying the same thing, but I have a feeling…”

She chewed on her bottom lip.

“I have a feeling she is starting to open up. In my class, at least.”

“Is she?” Ava asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

“She’s a good student, she learns fast, faster than the others, I have a feeling she’s going to get bored of the pace at which I teach very soon.”

“Sounds like her,” Ava smiles, raising her chin in pride.

Math was never one of her strong suits, but language was always easy for her. Probably because of how much she reads (more than Ava ever has in her whole twenty-eight years of life), or because of how much she has been exposed to different languages since birth — all three of the girls speak English, Spanish and Portuguese, and they’ve also been taught basics in other languages by the other kids at school (Nova’s Italian is rudimentary but she can understand complicated conversations and Nina can sing ‘Happy birthday’ in Arabic, it came as a shock when she realized not every school sang that).

So yeah, Ava isn’t surprised. But she is still as proud as always.

“Which is why I want to propose something to her,” Miss Young continues, looking slightly nervous this time. “There is another student in my class that is struggling to keep up with the class, and I was hoping Nova could help her catch up.”

Ava cannot help but frown at the idea.

“Isn’t that your job?”

“It is,” Miss Young says, stuttering over her own words. “That’s not what I mean. I’m— May I speak freely, Miss Silva?”

“Sure.”

“I think Nova could reap some benefits from that partnership too. She’s lonely, I can see that. She doesn’t have any friends, but I feel like if she opened up a little the other children could realise that she is actually quite special. I'm hoping that this could help her make some friends.”

The thing about Miss Young, it’s that she genuinely believes in what she says. There is something in her voice, in her tone, in the way she stands, that makes her look more open, more certain, more sure of herself. She could tell Ava that unicorns are real and Ava would believe her.

“And Miss Morgan — the student I’m talking about — could really use some good influence too, I believe.”

“Let me guess, the kid’s a bully.”

“She’s a child, Miss Silva,” Miss Young says, just as certain as before. “She needs to learn what is right and what is wrong. I have faith that the both of them could figure it out together.”

Well shit, she didn’t have to phrase it like that. Ava was right, now she’s really starting to think about it. About little Nova who doesn’t have any friends and spends her evenings locked up in her room as Nina plays with Diego and other kids she doesn’t know the names of, about the heavy loneliness in her eyes every time she picks her up and the way her backpack seems ten times heavier than it really is as she leaves for school.

Miss Young is really good at her job.

“Look,” Ava says. “Here’s the deal. I’ll talk about it with Nova, and you’ll talk about it with her too. She’ll decide. Those tutoring sessions, I want them to be monitored, at least at the beginning. Our door is always open for her to come, but I won’t let my daughter become a punching bag for some angry kid. And if she gives us both different answers, then I guess we’ll have to reschedule another meeting.”

And she’s not that mad about that.

Miss Young nods.

“That’s what I had in mind.”

“Great!” Ava smiles. “By the way, did you really think Nina’s marijuana joke was funny? ‘Cause I know I did.”

“I’m not allowed to encourage her to that kind of behaviour in this school,” Miss Young says, a small smile on her lips.

“I’m still not hearing a ‘no’.”

#fic: strangers in this town #warrior nun #avatrice #ava silva #sister beatrice #posting this because my aunt is trying to convince me that feminism is the root of all evil #shout out to 13yo me that didn't know not everyone sings happy birthday in Arabic

[aemonds-wifey]

One Shot Requested by the lovey @dothrckis

Summary: You enjoy a family dinner before Osferth leaves you and your family for a hunt. When he returns a month later he shows you how much he has missed you.

“Edmund have you got enough there?” You asked handing Estrid a spoon

Edmund nodded as he took a bite of mushroom stew, You took another glance round the table- the children were all eating and Cenric, now a whole year old, rested against your chest and you held him close before sitting down at the top of the table.

Osferth sat beside Estrid cutting up her bread for her , Stigir looked at you then at Osferth

“Where are you going tomorrow papa?” He asked

Osferth inhaled “I am traveling with uncle Uhtred on a hunt.”

“Uncle Finan and sihtric too?” Estrid asked

Osferth nodded “Indeed my little

Flower.”

Stigir then looked at you “Can I go with him?”

You laughed “oh my little dregner not just yet..perhaps when you are older.”

Stigir sighed “I am big enough now and I am the eldest !”

Edmund scoffed slightly which amused you greatly “My dear sweet boy , although you and Edmund are indeed the same age I’m afraid Edmund came into this world a few moments before.”

Stigir nodded in defeat “I still would like to come Papa!” He exclaimed

Osferth laughed a little “You need to stay and look after your brothers and sister.”

Stigir pouted as he ate more stew, Edmund looked at his father and smiled with curiosity

“Are you going North ?”

Osferth nodded “we are my boy. Near Eoforwick

There may still be snow up there.”

The boys smiled, Estrid looked at you “Did it snow where you use to live mama?”

You finished taking a sip of wine and looked at your daughters curious face “It snowed a lot there yes my darling. “

“Did you live with frost giants ?” Stigir asked.

You laughed and before you could answer Edmund spoke “Stigir mama did not live with them! They live in a bad place.”

You watched them as they curiously questioned you about the land of your birth, Estrid and Osferth discussed the flowers you could find in Norway. You left them for a moment to fetch some more bread. Cenric started to play with your hair through his fingers, you fed him a small chunk of bread.

As you sat down Edmund looked at you “Will you take us there mama?”

Everyone went quiet , all eyes focused on you. Osferth carefully observed your face as you inhaled slowly . You had never once entertained the idea of returning to your homeland and the idea of returning with your own children was something at one point you thought would never occur.

“You want to visit my land of birth Edmund?” You asked.

He nodded “I do.”

You caught Osferth’s gaze for a brief moment and swallowed your fear , smiling at your eldest boy “Then when you are old enough , we will journey there .”

Edmund smiled with enthusiasm and returned to his food, Stigir looked at his father “Will you also fish on your adventure papa?”

“I think we shall. Stigir did you know there are different fishes all

Over the different kingdoms?”

Stigir nodded “Uncle Sihtric said the picts have some fish that do not come to us. Do they also not like us?”

You both chuckled “Some of their fish just prefer the colder rivers my lad.” Osferth answered.

You drank from your goblet “I’m sure when your father returns he will tell you all about the animals he will have seen.”

Osferth managed to give you a rapid wink before Estrid piped up “Papa how long are you going be gone?”

He leaned down so his face was close to hers, he stroked her long dirty blonde hair “A whole month my sweet girl.”

She gasped and her jaw fell open “A month!!!”

Her face of shock amused you slightly, she was the most purest of girls “But mama will miss you! I will miss you and so will my brothers .” She protested. Osferth shuffled closer and kissed the top of her head. He patted her back and reassuringly rubbed it “It will pass quickly”

“Will you bring me a flower from the north papa?” She asked.

Your heart strings twinged at her request. Osferth merely nodded humbly “I will do my very best for you my little rose.”

She happily bounced slightly at this but looked up at him “I will miss you papa.”

Osferth inhaled , clearly touched by her sweet words.

“But . And when I return I will have prizes for you all.” He said looking at his other children

“Even Cenric?” Stigir asked

Osferth nodded “Even Cenric my boy.”

*🌸

A whole moon had passed, yet it felt like an eternity. Uhtred said they would be away a month at the longest but this was the longest time you had spent apart from Osferth and the separation was tormenting you.

You never thought you could miss someone’s touch so much, the way he kissed you , even the way he spoke to you. You had given yourself to Osferth body and soul, you missed him terribly.

The children kept you busy, and they missed their father too- it took an effort to keep Stigir from sneaking off with them. Edmund was a constant by your side, only a boy of seven, was the sweetest boy and your rock when Osferth was away. You and Edmund has spent many days looking at maps of Norway, you telling him points of interest and your journey in your youth.

Stigir wanted to learn more about sword fighting, you taught him some basic maneuvers , Edmund also joined occasionally. Cenric had gripes so much , you could see Osferth’s features in his face

Estrid missed Osferth the most, she kept asking when she and her papa could go picking the purple flowers and she wanted to show him a new spot on the hill , near a sycamore tree where flowers bloomed. You told her everyday he was gone that he would return soon, an answer that gave her brief satisfaction but when the next day arrived she would ask again.

You needed some air , Ingrid and Ealhswith

had gladly offered to watch your children along with Uhtreds children whilst you went for a stroll. You found yourself by the secluded lake in the forest , the trees looked beautiful around this area, the water was calm and the silence gave you little comfort. You held your own hand for a brief moment, imagining it was Osferth’s hand squeezing it- you ached for his touch and warmth.

As your circled the lake you stopped at the old but lush pink blossom tree , so radiant the pink vibrant shades reflected in the water below. Your thoughts dwelled on where Osferth was at this moment, was he another day away? An hour? Not knowing was the worst for you.

You looked up at the pink petals dancing as the wind blew from behind you, your long wavy hair wrapping around your neck as you folded your arms.

And then your eyes opened slowly as you heard the soft footsteps coming from close by, they suddenly stopped and you turned yourself round carefully.

Osferth stood there, looking grubby and tired. But the smile he produced upon seeing your look of sweet surprise. You breathed “Osferth” loudly as you blinked to make sure you were not dreaming. He dropped his bag and sword and ran over to you. Crashing against you with the most fiercest and most affectionate of embraces. Wordlessly you pulled him against you and he did the same.

He broke apart and immediately kissed your lips as if it was the last thing on Earth. He kissed you so passionately you felt yourself dip. You cupped his face as you broke apart, your foreheads resting against each other.

“Happy to see me?” He said softly.

You kissed the edge of his nose “Osferth. Of course! ” before you even finished saying your lips found your way to his. He smiled widely as you did this . He hummed into your throat and broke from your lips reluctantly “oh my sweet wife…” he paused “I was gone only a month not a year.” He grinned

You squeezed his lower back and smirked “It felt longer my love. “

You embraced him, your breathing was slightly uneven and he noticed. He held you by your shoulders and searched your face “Y/N I’m here..”

you nodded “I’m sorry I just…how did you know I was here? ”

He smiled “Ingrid said you went for a walk. I know you like it here.”

You were overwhelmed by an emotional surge you felt you could cry, the happiness of seeing him , the relief he was not injured and the longing to be close with him.

He held his breath , waiting to see what words would escape you

“I missed you so much my love..” your eyes watered slightly.

Osferth held one hand on the back of your head and brought you under his chin, your nose firmly the skin on his neck. He leant his head on top of yours and stroked your hair.

“Do you remember the night of the Holmgang? And I asked you to come back to me?” Osferth asked As his thumb tenderly rubbed your head.

A tear eacaped your eye as you rose your head facing him . You both had not discussed that night in quite some time , you nodded “I do…”

Osferth’s finger lightly came down to your face and brushed the hair away from your face “That night was the worst night of my life…”

Your heart skipped slightly , his eyebrows furrowed for a moment “watching you fight…it was minutes for you but it was hours for me. Every time he missed you or when you got back up and lunged at him…I was a wreck.”

You inhaled sharply. Dipping your head down but Osferth lifted your head with his finger raising your chin “You came back to me…as I have now.”

You kissed once again before he took your Hand and lead to to the largest tree that guarded the lake. You sat beneath it

“The children have been well?” He asked as he got to his knees.

“You did not see them?” You quizzed.

He nodded “No I think Ingrid has them down for a nap…and I she informed me that my wife was not with them.”

“They have been so good …they have missed you. Estrid especially.” You said . He shuffled himself so his back was against the bark, he put his arm around your shoulder and held you close. “ The boys behave?”

You nodded “They did.”

“Edmund has been asking about my parents .” You said getting comfortable .

“Oh? I think that boy is older than he appears.” He said “he has such a curious mind…”

“That’s not a bad thing…he is wise and clever like his father.” You said.

He smiled “And Cenric?”

You looked up at him “Growing every day.”

He squeezed your arm and kissed the top of your head , before resting his chin on top.

“Successful hunt then ?” You asked

Osferth nodded “Uhtred thought so. We brought plenty back and Sihtric managed to bring down a stag.”

You sat forward looking in disbelief “Not by himself surely ?!”

Osferth smirked “No. Finan helped.”

“Of course he did. “ you laughed

“What is it like further north?” You asked gently leaning a hand on Osferth’s thigh.

“Cold. Bloody cold.” He said

“Ah you have not been to Norway my love. That is pure cold.” You said.

“I hear it’s beautiful.” He mused

“It was …but I found my beautiful home with you.”

Osferth kissed your head again and hummed into your hair.

You sat back against him, placing a hand on his chest. Sighing happily. Osferth’s free hand held yours over his chest. You closed your eyes , taking a deep inhale as you pressed your nose against the neck. His scent came back to you and you felt at ease again.

All you could hear were the distant chipper of birds and the rustling of the leaves against the rhythm

Of the wind. You both felt so secluded and at peace, like your own little Eden and nobody could disturb you.

You looked up at Osferth’s peaceful face, he opened his eyes and happily examined your face . The familiar longing ache twisted in your lower body, your hand released from his grip and glided down to his trousers, he did not break eye contact as you pushed your hand down and felt him. Already hard, he leaned forward to kiss you as you slowly gripped onto him, slowly moving your hand up and back down . you moved yourself so you were Practically straddling him, you hand still moving up and down - he gasped at the extreme pleasure you meant down and with your free hand you held onto his shoulder. He held your hips as you moved them across his groin. He fell forward with his head against your chest “Christ Almightly Y/N…”

You moved your hand a little quicker , he raised his head quickly and searched for your lips ,and barely managed to keep his eyes open. Until his grip on your hips tightened , a hand crawled up your body and his fingers pulled on your dress- loosening it , exposing your shoulders. His eyes lit up with a burning that was only for you , he suddenly yet gently pushed you to the ground, climbing on top of you and devouring you with desperate kisses .

As he kissed down your neck he pulled in your dress, exposing your bare breasts, as Osferth took a look at them your chest heaved up and down, his other hand grabbing your thigh - looking at you as if it was the very first time he had seen you . You reached up and removed his attire, kissing his toned form chest and sliding your hand back around his cock, tenderly pleasuring hun as he struggled to keep composed. He made moans you had never heard him utter and it only made you burn for him more. Reluctantly he grabbed your hand and kissed it, before finding your lips and pushing you back against the smooth grass. He wasted no effort when he fell back down and kissed your chest , swirling his tongue around each of your nipples made you moan.

His hand did not stay on your thigh for very long, he found his way down to your already wet folds- his kisses travelled down and you watched him hitch one of your legs over his shoulder as he affectionately bit the skin around your core. His exhale directly on the sensitive skin awoke your arousal even more, he began to devour you , the pleasure sent your body into shock and he firmly placed a hand on your stomach to keep you still. It was of no use, Osferth had missed this intimate connection and he wanted you to know it.

Unable to reach his head your hand fell to the ground beside you, your fingers edging through the blades of grass- snapping the grass as Osferth slid a finger inside you. His tongue billowing against your bundle of nerves coupled with his nose rubbing against you was too overwhelming You could not stop yourself from jerking your hips against him, as you felt almost undone you were aghast when he replaced his fingers with his cock.

He wasted no time in burying himself deep in you, you hissed with a welcoming moan as he rested his head in the crook of your neck your legs flung around his waist- your feet pressing down pushing him further in.

Your fingers almost clawed at his back as he moved faster , your hand slipped into the bottom of his trousers and you squeezed the skin - Osferth moaned against your neck and found the strength to lift his head and gaze into your stormy grey eyes. He held onto for dear life and your grip on him did not loosen at any point, the smile he produced as he bit his own lip and uttered without mercy “Gods Y/N I …”

You moaned his name as you moved your face and bit down on his shoulder - the climax sent your body into a spell - Osferth’s body reacted similar to yours as your walls clenched around his cock , you both harmoniously succumbed to the wave of intense gratification take control. You shuffled your hip slightly as you could feel Osferth empty inside you- It lasted for mere seconds but the time to bounce back from the pleasure you both experienced temporally crippled you both.

Osferth could barley move as he struggled to release himself from you. You held him down and whispered “Stay in me..” he did not argue , he only responded with “Hmmm.”

Osferth laid his head just above your breasts , your fingers tracing the back of his neck and he stayed inside you. You both breathed heavily, exhausted you kept your head down - feeling the joyful ecstasy leave your body as you came down from your high . Osferth moved his head, digging his chin into your rib cage you felt him chuckle against your skin, you mirrored his laughs.

“Imagine the greeting you give me if I left you for a year.” He joked

You playfully tapped his head “You wouldn’t be able to walk my love.”

His eyes glowed as he pulled himself up to you, finally releasing himself from within you. He rested an above you and put his arm around you , kissing your forehead with the utmost care. Feeling exhausted but at ease you nestled yourself against him And he held you tightly - you never wanted to leave his arms again.

#ewan mitchell #osferth #baby monk #the last kingdom #Osferth x you #osferth x reader #Uhtred #Finan #sihtric #saxon #Dane #Viking #fic

[masterthespianduchovny]

If I have Taylor swift mutual, you’ve managed to avoid my criticism of her for years bc I tend not to post about her on here at all.

I don’t hate her, but I fucking loathe her brand and the following it’s cultivated. And it bothers me so deeply because she exploits her fans and society with victim narratives, which plays into white supremacy ideologies. If you’re skeptical of this claim, ask yourself why someone who doesn’t old nazi ideology has such a loud and vocal neo nazi/white supremacist following?

Usually this type of vocal support originates when the artist shares far right wing ideologies and is public about it. Taylor is a Democrat and largely support left wing beliefs. They didn’t randomly attach themselves to her, she exploited certain beliefs and identities and attracted the wrong type of fan.

But this post isn’t about those type of fans, but rather, why the way she operates is loathesome and I’m sick of how society, fans, and people coddle her.

This all started with a black man daring to say a blonde haired, blue eyed white girl wasn’t deserving of an award.

Before anyone says, “you’re defending Kanye.”

Fuck Kanye!

However, the 2009 mtv vmas conditioned people how to treat and perceive Taylor, which is as a victim.

Now I know someone is outraged and is thinking, “Taylor WAS a victim.”

While that is true, does anyone honestly think that moment should’ve been as big as it was? Let’s be for real. Should the media have milked that moment for an entire fucking year and people still talk about it 13 years later.

An award about a fucking basic ass music video. And I don’t care for the single ladies music either, so it’s not like I have any skin in the game.

It was a bad moment, but it should’ve only lasted a moment.

Y’all want to know why we still talk about it? Why Taylor can still milk and exploit that moment, which she does?

Because she was a blonde hair, blue eyed white girl and this was a scary, arrogant black man.

Back then, people argued that Kanye targeted her because she was a girl. That this would’ve never happened if it had been a man. The racial implications are clear.

This signified to the nation that she needed to be protected.

For those who are wondering why I’m stressing blonde haired, blue eyed white woman that’s because it’s important: it’s who nazis believe are the perfect and superior beings.

For people who believe that Kanye targeted Taylor for this reason, keep in mind: this the same man who said, “George bush doesn’t care about black people” on national tv in front of a bigger audience. Why would he specifically target Taylor or be afraid to confront a man if he literally called out the most powerful man in the world at the time?

If this had been James blunt who’d pulled that stunt, it would’ve died out. But it was fucking Kanye. And the media obsessed and obsessed about it. Because they already hated him and he was already polarizing, but still a fucking superstar. They made sure we never forgot what happened that night. And instead of people asking, “why are they making this such a big deal”, people ate it up. Like they were asking this man what he recently deceased mother would think about what he did when one: he was only drunk as a result of his mom’s death and his difficulty in dealing with it two: again, this man called out a president on tv, Taylor was small potatoes in comparison.

Like this moment should’ve been akin to when lil mama got on the stage with Alicia keys and Jay z. It’s a moment we randomly remember, but largely forget about.

Admittedly, taylor was young and presumably overwhelmed with everything that happened that night and what came afterwards. However, taylor never sat and thought, “although Kanye ruined my moment, that situation was completely overblown.”

No. I’m text, she constantly leans into or plays into that night whenever given the chance. She loves to play into narrative that Kanye hates her and is feuding with her. That’s she trying to ignore him and get over that ordeal.

Thing is: anyone who has listen to Kanye’s music can tell you that if Kanye is beefing with someone you’ll know it. He’s very obvious about it. Kanye flat out apologized to her, referenced the incident in a song, said he was pressured into apologizing a specific way, and then rarely if ever referenced it again until 2016. And that timeline is important. Because Taylor was the one making songs or references to him/that night, yet claimed that he’s the one who can’t let it go.

Now before we get to 2016, leading up to this, most of Taylor’s popular songs or moments was about her being a victim (of a bad relationship) or fighting bad against someone who “wronged” her. In some way, shape, or form there was a victim narrative happening.

She was very loud about the exes that wronged her, but when she was clearly and the only one in the wrong, she’s quiet about it with her music. She sings about it, but does make a big to do about it. It’s not the centerpiece.

During this time, Kanye sends her flowers, she presents him an award, and they have one or two other good moments—they also publicly compliment each other.

Then, “Famous” happens.

But wait, I’m going to backtrack again. Remember how people said she was receiving unfair criticism for singing about her relationships and exes and that if she were a man she’d be praised?

Funny enough, there’s a genre about relationships whether it’s failed, successful, reminiscing over whatever and that’s R&B. The R&B girls (and guys) have been singing about exes and shit since foreva and they didn’t receive any of this criticism. Hell, literally every Adele album is about relationships or heartbreak and, at least, three of them are about real relationships.

What’s the difference between them and Taylor?

We almost always know who she’s talking about and that a huge problem.

She’s lucky that most of her exes are famous—well, no, they’re lucky. Can you imagine being a regular Joe and being attacked because a relationship didn’t work out and Taylor wrote you out as the bad guy? Because lets be real, do we believe that every relationship (not every bc we know she did Tom and Taylor dirty, which she receives very little to no criticism about from her fans) she was not at fault for and they were the only ones to do wrong?

Because if you don’t believe they, you should have an issue with how she operates—no longer past tense—and that her exes get harassed and attacked because of her music. Because we sure as hell would have a problem if the genders were flipped.

Or how she wrote bad blood about some fucking backup dancers that left to perform for Katy, and then made a video with all her famous friends, which is effectively bullying. Yet, that’s ignored.

So we get to 2016 and Kanye calls and asks for her blessing. Taylor seems to be genuinely receptive of this conversation, which is important to note because people claim she was being agreeable not to anger him or whatever. When he asks her approval, she basically says that it’s okay for him to say whatever he wants bc it’s his music. And this conversation is important, but not for reasons Taylor stans believe.

When the song drops, taylor gives the impression that they didn’t talk or really talk, which is false. Kanye was trying to have that discussion with her and they did to an extent. He didn’t call her to just discuss her putting it on her Twitter account, her wanted her to be okay and not offended by it. Why would he ask her to put the song on her TL and expect her not to listen or be offended by it??? What sense does that make?

People make this about her being called “that bitch”, which is why her essentially telling Kanye he didn’t need her permission and that he should write what he wanted is important. She didn’t hear the added like, but she did give him carte blache to say whatever he wanted. This doesn’t mean she had to be okay with it, I get why she was offended. But she could’ve said, “we did discuss the song and I knew he was going to say some risqué things, but I don’t feel comfortable being called a bitch.”

This acknowledges that a conversation happened and she knew he was going to say controversial shit, but that revisions were made.

Also, the line about them having sex…she was completely okay with that during the phone call. Yet, when it was released not only did she fake outrage, she made a Grammy speech addressing it. And let’s be clear: fame doesn’t equal success or acclaim. For someone who is an acclaimed lyricist, she should know better and does.

This was her exploiting her image and goodwill vs Kanye’s image and perception.

She misrepresented that conversation and made up a narrative all while being asked to be kept out of it. Then to claim that Kanye secretly recorded her to embarrass her???

Although there was no way for her to know, presumably, that Kanye’s been recording his life since the fucking 90s to flat out confidently state that he only did that to hurt and harm her was deliberate. Like, she factually stated that as if it was known only for a documentary to be released 5-6 years later that proved Kanye did record all aspects of his life.

And for people who need this explained to them: part of the conversation around this time was how he was targeting and harassing her, which this “secret” recording was evidence of. Because when you actually listen to the conversation to understand and not take sides, this appears to be a communication issue, esp culturally.

Although it makes sense why Taylor would take insult at being called a bitch 1. Some women don’t 2. Rap is very misogynistic and bitch is sometimes perceived as a compliment as well as the idea that a woman would reward them with sex for whatever reason. But again, Taylor never objected to that line during the call. Was not offended and just said others (I believe feminists), but that she’d be in on it and would surprise people after it was all over. And we can say she was saying this to placate him, but wouldn’t you say that’s on her and not him. He asked her opinion and was genuine?

Despite this back and forth, who is the one writing and singing about this?

Taylor.

She says she wants to be left out of the narrative and left along, yet she brings it up.

And we have to ask why it’s so bad for others to discuss their dealings with her, but it’s okay for her to obsessively talk about her dealings with others. She wants to be left alone while not leaving them alone and knowing her fans will harass them.

Like she’s rehashing old shit (relationships) in midnights. Why??? I know the concept behind it, but it still seems childish, obsessive, and like she can’t let anything go, which her fans seem to be fine with.

And can someone tell me if she ever addressed slutshaming her ex’s then girlfriend who was then harassed by her fans? Because while she may have been going, thats still fucked up.

Or how that situation with her masters was not only misrepresented, but her later going on to discuss Scooter’s divorce is weird as fuck. And before someone argues about how she has a right to own her masters, my point of contention isn’t that. It’s the fact that most artists don’t own their masters and she tried to position it as sexism as to why she was denied to ability to own hers. And that the only reason scooter got investors to buy it with him was to spite her.

This is all her exploring white woman tears and white supremacy ideology. How is she both a shrewd business woman and a poor victim taken advantage of??? Can both exist? Sure, but not in the narrative that she’s crafted.

She always need some person, powerful figure, expectation to fight against and conquer. She may have taken a break with Evermore and folklore, but she’s back at it and people just eat it right up.

She’s petty, spiteful, vindictive, and refuses to let anything go, despite her success and not needing to relying on this shit.

And you can’t say shit about her without someone feeling offended and personally attacked.

Now some may think I’m a huge fan of Taylor’s because I know so much and have opinions or obsessed with her, but I’ve successfully avoided most of her music for years. I keep up with pop culture and can tell you a lot about many artists without actually listening to or keeping up with them. Esp when their fans obsess about their all of the time.

But ask yourself why you’re so protective of her in comparison to the other girls. Why is she the only one worth defending like this?

#anti taylor swift #taylor swift critical #long post

[autumnslance]

Year of the OTP - May 2023 - Illness

((Prompt List Here. A sick fic, but I avoid details on bodily fluids. 3200 words; a bit shorter than last month! ARR Late Patches.))

Thancred woke coughing, stomach heaving and head pounding like Amalj’aa war drums. His tongue was a slab of sandpaper in his sour mouth, and his stomach spasmed again, the acid rising.

“Here,” a familiar voice said, gentle hands guiding him toward a bucket just as another wave hit. What came out was mostly liquid, and tasted even worse than when it had gone down the night before.

The hands held him steady as he spent a few minutes retching, his minder rubbing the back of his neck.

And not the person he had been expecting.

He took the offered towel to wipe his mouth as she set aside the bucket. He didn’t want to look at her just yet. Not in this state.

“Water?” she asked.

“Please,” he answered. “Not quite ready for my coffee yet, I’m afraid.”

She huffed a brief laugh and stepped away, leaving him leaning over his knees. Sitting up, let alone standing, seemed a terrible idea. He heard the tap running in his little washroom.

From the direction of his fireplace, a piercing whistle sounded, the noise splitting his head, and she cursed in her native tongue as she rushed to stop it.

“What the hells was that?” Thancred asked through the renewed ringing and pounded in his skull.

“Tea kettle. Here,” she said, setting a tray on the nightstand.

There was a glass of water, and a cup of tea steeping now; it took him a moment to identify the scent. “Is that a ginger?”

“For the nausea. Start with the water, I’ll return soon.”

“You don’t have to—”

She gently squeezed his bare shoulder—someone had gotten his shirt and boots off—as she pressed the waterglass into his hands. Then she walked away, his door opening and clicking shut again.

Hells.

He sat on the edge of his bed and sipped the water, slowly, mindful of the empty bucket left nearby; she must have also dealt with that when getting the water. He wasn’t as observant as usual this morning.

So when Aeryn returned a few minutes later, he was sure to look up to give her at least a weak smile. As awful as he felt, she didn’t look much better. Her midnight hair was falling out of its cord, strands wisping around her drawn-in face. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her tanned complexion seemed ashen. She obviously hadn’t changed clothes recently, her rumpled red shirt in need of a good wash. She wasn’t wearing her usual tall boots, and he realized they had been left by his desk, her jacket slung over his chair.

She carried something steaming on a tray, and the scent of chicken broth set his empty stomach to rumbling.

“You’re too kind,” Thancred said. “Were you here all night?”

She set the tray down. “I helped Riol guide you here, but then he was called away on Braves business. You passed out before we got your boots off. I told him I’d stay, since Minfilia’s out.”

A cold sweat broke over him; he didn’t remember her arrival in the Rising Stones, didn’t remember returning to his room, didn’t remember because he had passed out…

“Can you eat?” she asked.

“I…I think so,” he managed to say, swallowing bile of another sort threatening to rise. “Is this…chicken soup?”

She nodded. “Had F’lhaminn make it. Chicken, hard-boiled egg, vegetables, noodles, salty broth, plain toast to help soak it up; all one needs to recover from a hangover. So say the alchemists back home.” Aeryn shrugged. “Always worked for my Papa, anyroad.”

He raised a brow at that as he stirred the broth; it was still rather hot. “A hard drinker, your father?”

She didn’t answer right away. “For a time, after Mama passed. Rashae—my eldest sister—convinced him to stop.”

“I see. Apologies, if I roused painful memories.”

Aeryn shook her head. “It just was.”

He cautiously ate a few spoonfuls. F’lhaminn had outdone herself on so simple a dish for his wretched sake, and his weakened stomach made it easy enough to eat slowly and savor it. He remembered the tea, and took a few sips there, too.

Thancred recalled why it had been so damned easy for Moenbryda to goad him into drinking that strange dark liquor she’d wheedled from a Mamool Ja trader.

“I thought you were in Thanalan?” Preventing yet another attempt at Ifrit’s summoning, that he yet again could not help with.

Aeryn nodded. “Soon as we’d dealt with Ifrit, we received word of Harriers moving a large number of crystals near Whitebrim, so made sure Iceheart wasn’t calling forth Shiva again. T’was a false alarm, thankfully.”

“Still, you must be exhausted, between all the fighting and teleporting.”

She smiled weakly. “I’ve had better weeks.”

“You don’t have to tend to me,” he said.

Aeryn gestured for him to keep eating the soup and drinking the tea, which he did. “You let Moen goad you.” The ‘again’ was unsaid, but present in her tone. “And you asked not to be left alone when you get too deep in your cups. So I stayed.”

It was usually Minfilia, or Yda; once Y’shtola, and she had been gentler than he had expected or deserved. He couldn’t bear to ask F’lhaminn, Papalymo, or Tataru, and he didn’t trust their newer members. Alphinaud was out of the question, when the lad was even present and not tending to his new Grand Company. Alisaie likewise wasn’t an option, even if she weren’t in the Waking Sands most often between her investigations. Urianger, too, was not present often enough, but had stayed the one time he could.

Not that Thancred tried to allow this to happen too often.

He had never dreamed of asking Aeryn to tend to him when he over-indulged. To try to keep him from going too far, imbibing too much—and failing that, helping him keep from losing more time, more memories, more of his control…

Aeryn collected his empty soup bowl and tea cup, passing him a refilled water glass. “A few more bells of rest, and you’ll be fine,” she said.

“Indeed; I feel much recovered for your ministrations already,” he said, giving her one of his more charming grins. It triggered the expected blush on her dusky cheeks, and if anything, showed how wan she herself was. “I shall take it easy today, but you must also promise you will take your rest, my friend.”

She nodded, stifling a yawn. “I have need of a shower and a long sleep myself.” She paused, looking at him biting his lip. “Go on, make your jape.”

He pretended to be affronted. “What? Surely you don’t expect me to suggest we save time and water by showering together! Why, t’would be untoward, my lady!” He gave her an exaggerated wink.

Her blush deepened and spread up her ears as she laughed. “Yes, you’re all right.” She collected her boots and jacket. “Oh, I did manage to find a new book in Coerthas—one of the merchants we aided had it on hand. Mayhap this evening we can give it a look.”

Thancred grinned. “Sounds like a plan,” he agreed. She smiled in return, and took her leave.

A plan to keep him occupied and not get into another drinking contest with Moenbryda. He bit back the uncharitable thought; Aeryn, being Aeryn, likely was simply thinking of their similar literary interests and the lively debates they tended toward. It would be a welcome distraction, from both their lovely colleague’s formidable stamina, and from Aeryn and her too-few blessed comrades facing off against such threats as primals for their sakes yet again.

—

Thancred bathed, changed his bedsheets, and slept more, having found that the extent of his capabilities—gods, what was in that western liquor?

He had no nightmares of cruelly laughing Paragons stealing his days and puppeteering his actions; just dreams of the ocean waves outside Vesper Bay, drowning out the Scions’ conversations, though their laughing camaraderie was visible from the distance he kept himself.

By evening Thancred felt sentient enough to make it to the common room. Moenbryda was thankfully not in this evening, apparently off to consult with Urianger. In fact, it seemed a good number of his colleagues were away, leaving him alone to sit at the bar as F’lhaminn came out of the kitchen.

“Hello, Thancred; feeling better?”

“I am, thank you. Next time Moen ropes me into a drinking contest, please stop me.”

“That’s the third time you’ve asked, and I’m sure you’ll again ignore any attempts on the fourth,” she replied dryly. “Feel up for dinner?”

“Please,” he said. “Have you seen Aeryn this eve? I should thank her, and she mentioned a new book besides.”

F’lhaminn shook her head. “Haven’t seen her since passing her that soup she insisted upon for you. I am glad it seems to have worked.”

“As am I.” He masked his disappointment; Eorzea’s champion was ever in demand for her time and attention, after all.

The rest of the evening passed pleasantly enough, chatting with his old friend, and eventually getting into a card game with some of the off-duty Crystal Braves. Thancred stuck with water, not even trusting a common ale after the previous night’s antics, and retired just slightly earlier than his usual post-midnight hours, and fell into a blessedly dreamless sleep.

—

When Thancred finally shuffled out of his room at what the rest of the world incorrectly considered a “reasonable hour”, he turned the corner and paused at seeing Aeryn slowly moving through the hall herself. Normally she was already far too full of far too much chipper energy at even earlier hours than this.

“Good morning,” he said as cheerily as he could manage before coffee. “I’m sorry to have missed you last night.”

She turned toward him, about to speak, but swayed so alarmingly he automatically reached out to grasp her arm.

“Are you all right?”

“‘M fine,” she said. “Are you feeling better?”

“Right as rain, in no small part thanks to you.” He could see how flushed she was, a light sheen of sweat on her skin though she shivered, and her eyes seemed almost glassy. He put the back of his hand to her cheek and then her forehead, with no flinch nor protest from Aeryn.

“You’ve a fever,” he said. “Back to bed with you.”

“I know, but I needed to get food and liquid…”

He turned her around and walked her back to her chamber. “I’ll handle that; I do owe you, after all.” He tried to sound charming and light about it. She made a weak sound of protest, but otherwise did not fight him. “I’ll be right back,” Thancred said.

Aeryn nodded, leaving the door unlocked. He actually had to make sure it latched properly.

Thancred strode with renewed purpose to the common room. “Ah, there you are,” F’lhaminn said. “I nearly put the last of breakfast away.”

“Set some aside if you wouldn’t mind,” Thancred said. “And do you have more of that soup from yesterday?”

F’lhaminn tilted her head. “I do, why?”

He pitched his voice lower. “Aeryn’s ill; bouncing from Thanalan to Coerthas and then home again seems to have taken a toll on even her resistance.”

“Poor dear; I’d wondered where she was. I’ll get her food and juice—some of that mint tea she likes when feeling poorly—and medicine and see to her. Thank you for—”

“Actually, I can take the victuals and medication to her, whilst you tend to your other duties.”

F’lhaminn’s coral eyes watched him over the rim of her glasses. “You’re hardly one to play nursemaid.” She then sighed. “This isn’t your fault, you know.”

He suppressed a wince. “Perhaps not, though I certainly didn’t help, and I do owe her. So if you don’t mind…?” He gave F’lhaminn his sheepish charming smile, the one she knew he used when wheedling a favor from her but often gave into anyroad.

“Very well; we can start with what’s available now, and I’ll bring more later on.”

Thancred nodded, and soon enough had a full tray to carry down the hall, balancing carefully to knock on Aeryn’s door, wondering—but doubting—if she had fallen asleep.

“Come in,” was the faint reply, and he quickly stepped inside.

She might have changed back into her sleeping shift, but it was difficult to tell as she was wrapped in a blanket. She sat upon a furnishing he wasn’t sure to call either a large armchair or a small sofa, set in front of her fireplace.

He had never actually been in here before; not since they’d each claimed their rooms and moved in, at least.

“You ought to go to bed,” he admonished, setting the tray down on the low table next to the sofa.

“Cold. But can’t get the fire going.”

“F’lhaminn will stop by with more, but for now there’s a draught for your fever and a light repast.” He turned to get the fire going for her.

Aeryn was dutiful about her medicine, downing half the tall glass of juice with it. “Thank you.”

“Of course; ‘tis the very least I could do. Is there aught else you need right now?”

That little crease between her eyebrows formed as she thought. “I could use the pillows from my bed. If you don’t mind? I don’t want to move if I mustn’t.”

“A far better patient than most,” he noted, walking around the partition splitting her bed from the rest of the apartment. “Dear gods!” She made an interrogative noise. “Commenting on the frankly obscene amount of pillows you keep.”

“It helps me sleep.”

“Well I’m not bringing all of them,” he said, choosing a couple of the large ones. “This ought to do, if you won’t lie down.”

“I can rest here,” she said. “Now that I have all I need, and you’ve got the fire going.”

“Huh. Usually around here it’s a fight to keep anyone abed when they ought to be resting.”

“Drives me up a wall,” she muttered, adjusting her pillows and blankets. “Risk more harm with injuries, prolong illnesses. S’stupid, for such a smart group.”

He laughed. “If nothing else, this fever has loosened your tongue.”

She blushed, ducking her head. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be, the candor is refreshing. ‘Tis an unusual mindset for an adventurer, I’d think.”

“Wasn’t always,” she said, propping her chin on her hand as she watched the fire. “I studied magic, but everyone thought I ought to formally study alchemy, ‘specially after nursing my mother.”

“Ah. Got used to taking care of others that way, then?”

“And myself. I didn’t,” she hesitated. “I don’t like to be a bother.”

“My dear, the last thing you are is a bother,” he said sincerely, and smiled as she blushed again. “And on that note, is there aught else you need at the moment?” She hesitated, that blush deepening and spreading further. “Come now; out with it. You’ve already seen me at my worst, if it helps.”

“S’nothing like that, I just…Um. Could you maybe…stay? And read with me? I’m not going to be able to sleep yet but dunno that I can focus well enough on my own and I don’t wanna be bored and…” she shrugged as she trailed off.

“Rambling, even, with this illness,” he teased. “But very well. I must admit, I was disappointed we missed our reading last night, but we can make up for it now.”

She smiled gratefully. He brought the desk chair over, found the book with a little direction—her pack was more of a stuffed mess than he’d expected—and ended up doing most of the reading, as Aeryn listened and offered her comments and opinions as usual.

F’lhaminn checked in, bringing more soup and tea for them both. She said little except a reminder that Aeryn needed to rest, and debating character motivations and plot impacts in a novel stopped counting with as animated and argumentative as the pair could get.

“She’s not wrong,” Thancred said after F’lhaminn left, as Aeryn sipped her tea. “I should let you get some sleep. We can talk more when you’re feeling better.”

Aeryn made a face, but nodded. “Thank you, for staying.”

“Of course. Need anything before I go?”

“Make sure the fire lasts, if you don’t mind? I’m just going to sleep here.”

“Very well.” Thancred said, checking on the logs and prodding them into a longer, slower burning arrangement as she adjusted her nest of blankets and pillows.

“Thancred? Might I ask a…delicate question?” she asked, already sounding drowsy.

“By all means.”

“I’ve been wondering, since yesterday…does it bother you?”

He tensed. “Does what bother me?” He thought of the dark gap in his memory of the night before last, and of the few others preceding it, and before that the too long, too dark loss of time and control and…

“The scar.”

He frowned. “You’ll have to be more specific, I’m afraid.” He recalled that his shirt had been removed along with his boots; he had not always had an easy life, the reminders of that scattered across his skin. It was not the first time he had been bare-chested before a comrade, but he didn’t have anything recent that was particularly interesting or eye-catching.

“The one I left on you. When,” she hesitated.

“…Ah.” That one.

Part of his waking and realizing how much time he had lost, what all that bastard had done, had been finding out how damaged his body was afterwards; Lahabrea had neglected to do much eating or sleeping, and it had taken its toll.

There was also a magically-enhanced rapier cut on Thancred’s chest, from when Aeryn had driven the Ascian out of his body.

“Happily, the Elder Seedseer and Y'shtola are rather adept with healing magics. Though I must say, obtaining such an impressive mark from the Warrior of Light and having lived to tell the tale is quite the boon when speaking to ladies,” he said, keeping his tone teasing.

“I just…I’m sorry.”

“Please don’t be; I shan’t ever be able to repay what you did for me.” He continued to poke the fire. “You know, I’ve never asked; did I leave any marks upon your lovely frame?”

“That was Lahabrea,” she said through a yawn. “You’d never willfully hurt one of us.”

He sucked in a breath, a sharp ache in his chest at that trusting response. “I’d like to think not,” he said quietly. “Yet I was the tool which he used. And you did not answer.”

She still did not. When he finally turned to look, her eyes were closed, though he was certain she was not actually asleep yet.

“All right,” he conceded. He made certain she had water near at hand, and turned down the lights. He paused at the door to look back, and was fairly certain even in the dim light that she was surreptitiously watching him. “Rest well, Aeryn,” he said as he left.

He stood outside her room for a long moment, knowing it was only late afternoon, perhaps early evening. Part of him wanted a drink. A greater part of him knew that was a bad idea, especially with one of those few he trusted to watch over him now ill herself, after already tending to his inebriation.

Perhaps a sparring match with Hoary would serve as a distraction. Thancred ambled down the hall, rubbing at the spot on his chest where under his shirt sat the scar from the friend that had pulled him out of the dark.

#final fantasy xiv #A Realm Reborn #Thancred Waters #wolcred #Thancred x WoL #pre-relationship #shippy nonsense #Aeryn Striker #lyn writing #lyn edits #YOTP 2023

[pxnsneverland]

Beauty and the Boss | austin!elvis x oc (part 4)

plot summary: Laura Jean Walker is the daughter to Louisiana's most powerful mafia boss, but to her, he's just her jail warden. When she sneaks out to the Louisiana Hayride with her friend she sees Elvis Presley perform and instantly knows something is special about this boy. Especially when he saves her from being assaulted by a townie. She thinks she's on cloud 9 until she gets kidnapped in the middle of the night by the Memphis Mafia led by Elvis himself. Will Laura Jean try to free herself or will something hold her back from finding her way home?

Part 1 | Part 2  | Part 3

pairings: austin!elvis x oc

word count: 1735

warnings/notes: I'm really glad you guys are enjoying this :) Keep reading and don't be afraid to send me messages. I love hearing for you!!

Chapter 4

 I followed Elvis into the kitchen, which, despite the size and cost of the property, appeared to be cozy. There was already food on the table, and an older, heavier-set woman was setting down a plate of biscuits to finish out the spread. As she saw Elvis, she broke into a broad smile and embraced him tightly. He hugged her just as firmly in return.

“How ya doin’, Booby? I almost thought you weren’t gonna be done with your business in time for dinner,” she said.

“And miss your cookin’? I could never.” Elvis kissed her cheek and motioned towards me. “Mama, this is Laura Jean Walker. She’ll be joinin’ us tonight. Laura Jean, this is my mama.”

To keep my hands from shaking, I folded them in front of me. I kindly nodded my head towards her. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Presley.”

She motioned with her hand. “Call me Ms. Gladys, sweetie. Aren’t you a cute one? Where did you find this one, Elvis?”

“Laura Jean and I met when I performed at the Lousiana Hayride. Ain’t that right, Laura Jean?” He gave me a look that indicated, "Don't say anything else." I heeded the warning.

“That’s right. We did. He saved me from some stupid redneck who couldn’t take no for an answer.”

Gladys scornfully gazed up at Elvis. “You were fightin’ again?”

Elvis sat down at the table, shrugging his shoulders. “Don’t start now, Mama. It wasn’t a fight. I just made sure he would never bother her again, that’s all.”

She didn't seem to believe him completely, and I wondered how much she knew about the things her son was involved in. Still, she dropped it, concluding it wasn't worth the debate. She whistled loudly with her fingers in her mouth. I heard numerous hurried footsteps, and soon the room was filled with raucous boys piling into chairs and holding different conversations. I took a step back, unsure what to do.

“Sit next to me,” Elvis remarked as he pushed out the chair next to the head of the table. I strolled over and sat down, feeling a little more at ease.

Glady's sat across from me on the opposite side of Elvis. “Now all of you hush up and say grace. Elvis, you want to lead us in prayer?”

“Sure, Mama.” Elvis grabbed her hand and extended his palm to me, which I accepted. His hands were warm and much larger than mine, encircling my entire hand. He squeezed my hand as everyone added theirs. He grinned at me before closing his eyes. I, too, closed my eyes as he blessed the food, as well as his friends and family. “And finally, God, thank you kindly for bringin’ Laura Jean here with us today. I just knew you would lead her back to me, even if I didn't expect it to happen this way.” My heart sank into my chest, and my cheeks became hot. I wanted to run away, but Elvis and the boy on the other side of me had a firm grip on my hand. I also didn't want to offend Ms. Gladys. He finished his prayer, and I quickly placed my hands in my lap, praying to God for the clear blush on my cheeks to fade. Everyone began grabbing food and piling it onto their plates as much as they could. I didn't know where to begin because there was so much. I couldn't recall the last time I ate a homecooked meal or sat at a table with family. I looked around and saw everyone laughing and talking to themselves, so comfortable with one another. I felt like an outsider once more.

I was still thinking when a plate of food was placed in front of me. Gladys smiled at me as I looked up. “Don’t be nervous, honey. You can have as much food as you want.”

I returned her smile, albeit cautiously. “Thank you, ma’am.” My mouth was instantly pleased when I took a bite of food. It was excellent. The correct amount of flavor and seasoning. It tasted like a family gathered around a fire, enjoying the warmth and protection from the elements.

“So, Laura Jean, tell me about yourself. Your Mama and Daddy?”

I gulped forcefully, trying not to choke on the delicious food.  “Um…well…Mama died when I was 12. And Daddy…well, we don’t talk much. He’s usually busy.” I diverted my gaze to avoid that look I always got. The same expression as a stray puppy dog wandering down the street.

“I am sorry about that, sweetie. I’ve always said family is everythin’. But you don’t worry none, okay? You’re welcome here for as long as you want.” Gladys indicated her son with her finger. “You take good care of her, Elvis, you hear?”

“You ain’t gotta tell me, Mama. Laura Jean will be just fine.”

My heart was on fire. Is this how a family felt? Someone's acceptance? I'd been so long without it that I couldn't remember what it was. Even though I was here under unusual circumstances, I welcomed it. Even if I wasn't going to stay here permanently, I could pretend while I could. I was adept at making things appear to be different than they were.

The kitchen phone rang as dinner was coming to an end. Elvis rose from his seat at the table to respond. As soon as he realized who was on the other end of the line, he began chatting quietly so no one could hear. His brow wrinkled in frustration. He hung up after a few minutes, not looking happy. He crouched behind Gladys, holding her shoulders and kissing her on the cheek. “I’m sorry, Mama, but there’s somethin’ that came up I gotta take care of. Dinner was delicious.”

Gladys sighed exasperatedly, as though this wasn't the first time, she'd heard these words from her son. “You work too hard, Booby. I’m worried about you.”

“If I don’t work, we can’t keep affordin’ these delicious meals you cook for us. I’m fine.” He let her go, and his expression darkened. “Jerry, Billy, Bones. Come with me.” The three men stood up and exited the kitchen hurriedly. His gaze softened when he saw me. "You too, Laura Jean."

Stunned, I pointed at myself. “Me?” He nodded his head, and I approached him cautiously. He took my hand in his and led me out of the kitchen and down the familiar corridor to his office. “Elvis, what’s goin’ on? Why am I here?” He didn't have to respond when the door opened. Daddy was standing in the room, waiting. He didn't appear distressed or terrified. He never did. Jerry shut the door behind Elvis and me.

“I must say, Walker, I thought it wouldn’t take you all day to respond to the note I left you,” Elvis grinned as he walked to his desk and took me with him.

“You’ll have to excuse me. Memphis is quite the drive.” The only hint that this wasn't a friendly gathering among colleagues was the tightening of Daddy's jaw.

“I invited you into my home. Introduced you to my family, my friends. And you still had the nerve to steal from me. I’m disappointed.” Elvis sat down, his gaze never leaving Daddy's.

“I admit, it may not have been my finest moment. I truly am sorry.” He didn’t sound sorry. “But kidnappin’ my daughter? Messin’ with a man’s family? Well, that’s a new low for you, Mr. Presley. Your daddy would have never involved an innocent.”

When his father was mentioned, I observed one of Elvis' hands clench into a fist under the desk. “Maybe, maybe not. But the Memphis Mafia is mine now, and what I say goes. You take somethin’ of mine…” Elvis drew me down and sat me in his lap. He put one soft hand on my waist, close enough for Daddy to see. “…I take somethin’ of yours. It’s a fair trade.”

I didn't even flinch. Elvis, I knew, wouldn't hurt me, but Daddy didn't. I liked how I could watch Daddy gradually lose his cool. For a change, I enjoyed that he was the one who was terrified and on his knees. I had to force myself not to smile. Daddy swallowed and cleared his throat. “I want my daughter back.”

“8 million dollars, Walker. That’s what you owe me. Then maybe you can have her back.”

“That’s a lot of cash to gather…”

“Shoulda thought of that before you decided to steal it from me!”

Daddy's lips twitched to the side. “I’ve seen you all over the papers and the radio, you know? Elvis Presley, America’s new superstar. Makes the girls go wild, makes the parents angry and the government afraid of his influence on the young people. I wonder how afraid they would be if they knew who you really were. Maybe we should find out.”

Elvis maintained a hold on my waist while running a finger over his lower lip. “You can’t prove nothin’ I’ve done. Even if you could, you’re throwin’ stones in a glass house, Walker. You’ve been at this a lot longer than I have. I’m sure they’d love to lock you away and throw away the key.”

Elvis was right. Daddy had a lot more under his belt and proving it wouldn't be difficult. The cops had been to our house several times and were desperate to capture him in the act. A normal mafia boss would be far simpler to bring down than a superstar. Daddy realized he didn't have a choice. He glanced at me, and I returned his stare, expressionless. It was his fault that I was in this situation, and he deserved to know it. His gaze was drawn to the wound on my lip, and I heard him take a deep breath.

“8 million,” Elvis continued, “And then we can negotiate.”

“And my daughter? What happens to my daughter?” Daddy questioned, his teeth tight.

“Don’t you worry your little head about that. She’s in good hands.” Elvis smiled devilishly, and if I hadn't spent the entire day with him, I would have assumed he was serious. Jerry and Billy pushed my father out the rear door of the office that led outside. I watched him walk away without even a nod to reassure me that he was going to fight to get me back.

 Stay tuned for part 5!! Click HERE to view!

#austin butler #austin butler fic #austin butler imagine #austin butler drabble #austin butler elvis #elvis baz luhrmann #baz luhrmann elvis #elvis 2022 #elvis presley #austin!elvis fluff #austin!elvis #austin!elvis angst #austin!elvis x oc #austin!elvis fic #elvis fluff #austin!elvis fanfiction #elvis presley fic #elvis presley imagine #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley fluff

[thebadgerclan]

Change

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x reader

Requested by Anonymous

Summary: Things need to change...

Cinderella and her Prince Charming had finally met their match in you and your husband, Anthony Bridgerton.  Yours was a love match, a love that had blossomed seemingly overnight, one that was passionate and unending.  The wedding was extravagant, every member of the ton vying for a seat at the ceremony.  Anthony took you on a trip to Wales; nearly a month spent on the coast, just the two of you.  Every day was spent in your husband’s embrace, strolling along the beaches, exploring the town near your lodgings, tangled in the sheets.

You knew that upon your return to London, Anthony’s duties and responsibilities would take a fair amount of his time, so when you woke up a few mornings to an empty bed or ate dinner alone a few times a week, you didn’t think very much of it.  It was when these occurrences became more frequent, so frequent that Anthony coming to bed when you did, rose when you did, ate his meals with you, were a rarity, that you knew this would not go on.  You’d only been married for two months for heaven’s sake, if this was how the rest of your life was to play out…you could not even fathom.  

It was late now, and Anthony was in his study; doing what you had no clue.  He’d taken all his meals there today, claiming he needed to focus on his work.  The maids were certainly gossiping at this point, and you would tolerate no such thing in your household.  You settled into bed–alone–and drifted into a fitful sleep.  When you woke, you were alone, not that that was a surprise at this point, and called for your maid to help you dress.

Once you were presentable, you made your way downstairs, seeking Anthony’s valet.  “Pardon me,” you said.  “Where is my husband?”  “The Viscount is in his study, My Lady, but I believe he is rather busy.”  “I’m sure he will not mind the intrusion, Stevens.  Thank you.”  There was purpose in your steps as you walked the corridors, your heels clicking on the wood floor.  You were raised to be a good wife; to know how to run a household, how to present a tea service, how to host a ball, but you were not raised to be a silent wife.

Your Mama’s advice was serving you well now as you rapped your knuckles against the door of Anthony’s study.  When no answer came, you pushed the door open, finding your husband at his desk.  “Dearest,” he greeted with a smile, which made anger flare in your chest.  “What are you doing here?”  You breathed deeply as you moved to stand before his desk, forcing yourself to remain calm.  “If I have done something to offend or displease you, then I insist you tell me now.”

Anthony cocked his head.  “What?  Y/N, my love, what are you ta-”  “You have been avoiding me, I am certain of it.  I know that your duties as Viscount will take up some of your time, but you have not come to bed with me once in the past three weeks.  Nor have you been there when I woke.  You have taken most of your meals here, and when you have dined with me, it has been clear that your mind was elsewhere.  My father is a member of the peerage as well, so I know firsthand how much time one’s duties ought to occupy, and it is nowhere as much as this.

“When we were wed, you spent every second of every day with me, and I miss it, Anthony.  I miss lying in bed with you until noon, I miss having breakfast with you, I miss you, and I will not put up with this any longer.”  You paused, and for the barest second, Anthony looked a bit afraid.  “This needs to change, Anthony, and it needs to change now.  I love you, and it hurts to think that your love for me might be fading.  Now, I am going to tea at my Mama’s.”

Without waiting for a response, you turned and left your husband’s study asking the butler to bring your carriage around.  Only when you were alone did you let yourself show any emotion, crying silently.  But you stopped your tears and dried your eyes before arriving at your mother’s not wanting to show any sign that anything was amiss.  For the afternoon, you managed to put your thoughts of Anthony aside and enjoy time with your mother, but when evening arrived, you had to head home.

It came as no surprise that you were alone in the bedroom, and your maid helped you to dress for bed before leaving you alone.  You read for a while before settling in for sleep, resigning yourself to another night spent alone.  You woke when the sun shone through the drapes, and you sat up, rubbing your eyes.  You got out of bed and pulled on your dressing gown, exiting your room, seeking Anthony out.  But he was nowhere to be found, nor was any of the staff.  

A lone maid was cleaning in the parlor, and you cleared your throat to announce your presence.  “Pardon me, My Lady, I did not see you.”  “Do not trouble yourself.  Where is everyone?”  “His Lordship dismissed them, My Lady.”  You cocked your head.  “Where is Anthony?”  “Last I heard, he was in the kitchens, ma’am.”  “Very well, thank you.”  The maid curtsied to you and you made your way to the kitchens.

Anthony was standing at the stove, pushing a few strips of bacon around a pan.  “Anthony?” you said, making him startle.  “My love,” he said, placing a hand over his chest.  “What are you doing?”  He sighed, setting the spatula down.  “Making you breakfast.”  It was only then that you saw the spread on the table: eggs, toast, waffles, juice, tea, and the bacon that was cooking on the stone.  “Why?”  “Because, my love, I am an idiot.”

You laughed, and Anthony came to stand before you, taking your hands in his.  “You are right.  I have been neglecting you, and I am so very sorry for that.  It was never my intention to make you feel slighted,  I never meant to shut you out, and I will apologize for as long as you need for you to forgive me.  You are right; my duties should not take up as much time as I have been giving them, I do not know why I was putting all of my energy into them, but that ends now.

“Y/N, my beautiful bride, you are the most important thing in my life, and from this day forward, you will be treated accordingly.  I love you so much, my darling, and I am so sorry.”  He was crying, you were crying, and you reached out to wipe his tears away.  “Anthony, I love you too,” you said, and your husband pulled you into his arms.  His promise to do better had soothed any ruffled feathers you had, and you pressed a kiss to his jaw.

“I shall make this wasted month up to you,” he said, releasing you to take the bacon off of the stove and moving it onto a plate.  Anthony sat you down and served you, kissing your forehead between every spoonful.  “If I can look forward to breakfasts like this every day, then you are well on your way.”  Anthony laughed as he prepared his own food.  “I do not think I can do that, darling,” he said.  “I believe I have extended my culinary abilities.”  You laughed as your husband sat next to you, kissing his cheek.  “I think I can live with that.”

#anthony bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton x you #bridgerton reader insert

[catindabag]

TBOSAS AU ✨CRACK! TAKE✨: The 10th HG Mentors According to Drunk Dean Highbottom. (Part 2)

⭐️❄️⭐️

I advise you, my fellow friends to read part one for context, but here are all the parts anyway: [1] [3] [4]

⭐️MENTORS⭐️

Clam Asia Dove Goat (Clemensia Dovecote)

Very kind, but sometimes rude to me.☹️

Takes note on everything and everyone.

Is the true popular likable girl.

Might be allergic to reptiles and peanut butter.

Is deathly afraid of frogs and spiders.

Hates the snakey snakeys.

Once stole Dr. Gaul’s pet rabbit mutt for “research” purposes.

Gave me free peppermint ice cream for my birthday.🥹

Your family is the only normal and decent family that I have met so far.

Can you ask your father to lower my electricity bills?🥺

Humble, but will punch you if threatened.

Who lied and told you that your skincare routine was superior to mine?

My skincare routine is THE BEST!😤

Will forgive anyone for a cheese tart.

Directly reports to Capitol News if something “bad” happened at school.

Tried to defame me for treating a certain student “unfairly,” just because they were poor AF.🙄

Might give her a demerit for that stunt later.

Threatened to report me for being drunk while giving a lecture, or whatever that mean.😪

Will most likely win the Hunger Games by actually planning a good strategy.

Per Symphony Prize (Persephone Price)

Willingly ate that “maid stew.”

Is maybe a secret cannibal.

Is on her “Unhinged Girl” era.

Might eat anyone anything if hungry.

Has no food preference.

Is currently dating the Dumpster Diver.

Why are you even dating that loser?🤨

Likes to scare people on the holidays.

Your father is crazy AF.

By the way, your meat(?) pies were delicious. 10 out of 10, will want to eat again.

Your family runs the railroad industry, but your food delivery services are slow AF.

I might give you a demerit for that stupid reason alone.

Is passive-aggressive towards me.☹️

Is quite skilled with a knife.

Home economics and cooking are not your forte.

Likes to troll the freshmen.

The only student who will survive a famine.

Will most likely win the Hunger Games by unspeakable means.🤢

Turban Can Bill (Urban Canville)

Is highly intelligent, but socially stupid.

Perfected freaking calculus for goodness sake!

King of the math freaks.

A super nerd of nerds.

You still failed to avoid hanging out with a bunch of idiots in your class.

Your family only got filthy rich by successfully hacking one of Mama Cardew’s bank accounts.

I know that you intentionally broke my very expensive vase last semester, just because I gave you a 98 on a stupid essay.

You need therapy!

Knows how to professionally hack the school computers.

Stop changing your stupid classmates’ grades!!😡🔪

I knew that you were the one who freaking blocked me from accessing the school Wi-Fi as a joke.

I might use you for a secret cyber crime scheme later.

Thinks he’s too cool for school.

Has a short temper. Like, really short.

I can’t believe that your anger issues helped you become a top performing student.😩

Why the heck did you call the National Security when you lost your f*ckin’ calculator?!

Will most likely win the Hunger Games by being too pissed off and too angry to die.

Liver Cardew? Libya Adieu? (Livia Cardew)

Her mama will kill you for a dollar.

Super rich AF.🙄

Haven’t you heard? Her mama runs the largest bank in all of Panem.

Your family is literally the IRS.

Can destroy the economy if you offend her.

Loves anything pink and sparkly.

Is very mean to everyone, especially to me.

It’s really unfair that your car sparkles under the sun.

Why are you bullying a certain student for being a war orphan?!😠

I’m the only one who is allowed to bully that war orphan!!😤

Willing to skip school to shop and gossip.

Cannot and will not be blackmailed.

Spoiled AF, but everyone already knows that.🙄💅

Politically untouchable.

Stop taxing me for being drunk all the time!

I know your family can and will personally send anyone to the poorer Districts for unpaid taxes.

Will assassinate anyone if they wear the same dress as her at the same event.

Yes, I know. Your scary mama will burn Panem to the ground if you were ever reaped as a Tribute for the Hunger Games.

I Owe Casper (Io Jasper)

Super smart, but painfully awkward.

Likes biology and chemistry a lot.

May unlock the secrets of love and the universe.

You almost shut down my school by “accidentally” flooding the hallways with freaking chlorine!!

Stole my dog and dyed it f*ckin’ lime green for some reason.😠🔪

Another certified nerd of danger.

You should consider dating Mr. Anger Issues.

Your family only got rich when they discovered the method of levitating jets and hovercrafts.

Your mommy is an unhinged scientist who works under an insane woman!

Will dissect anyone if given the chance.

May have created a mutt on accident.

You do know that Dr. Gaul hates you for stealing her cute feral squirrel mutt last semester.

Can sneak and kill anyone with a scalpel.

You are an insufferable know-it-all.

High IQ, low EQ.

Will most likely win the Hunger Games by polluting the Arena with deadly chemicals.

Florist Friend? Flower Friend? (Florus Friend)

Your name makes sense because your parents are the friendliest landscape designers that I’ve ever met.

Does not like outdoor activities for some reason.

Stole bleach for hair reasons.

Wants to become a lawyer, but does not even follow my rules.😩

Is secretly a proud delinquent.

Locked me once in a broom closet!😡

Might break the law for a free gallon of hair conditioner.

Why are you only friendly to kittens baby cats?

Loves to change and dye his hair to match the trends of the season.

Hates rainy days and gloomy nights.

Your parents must be so disappointed when you told them that you hate gardening.

You do know your family only became rich by being the largest landscaping company in all of Panem.

Almost died from eating a moldy cheesy roll. To be fair, it was your fault.

By the way, your mama wants me to pay for your ambulance fee.☹️

Is sadly allergic to dogs.

Is deathly afraid of eating expired food after that last incident.

Will NEVER win the Hunger Games. How could he? This kid is freaking allergic to rain!

#tbosas #crack #crack post #crackship #coriolanus snow #sejanus plinth #lucy gray baird #casca highbottom #clemensia dovecote #persephone price #livia cardew #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of songbirds and snakes #thg #the hunger games #suzanne collins #thg fic #tbosas fic #snowjanus #snowplinth #coriolanus x sejanus #hunger games #alternative universe #crack treated seriously #crack fic #tbosas incorrect quotes #thg incorrect quotes #thg fanfiction #thg fandom #thg series

[lacrymatoryao3]

Redemption Was Just The Beginning

Chapter 2: September, 1899 (Continued)

[1]

To the world, Arthur Morgan is dead. As he tries to face the idea, in a lush valley in Ambarino he comes face to face with a woman from his past, and they must reckon with an era long gone. Especially when she has secrets of her own.

(Rated explicit simply because eventually there's smut in this.)

3,315 Words (AO3 Link)

Ana Maria Gardener stood at the counter of the Hoosier cabinet in the kitchen as her son groggily ate his breakfast. She put together his lunch for the school day, wrapping the contents into a tea towel and placing it in a tobacco tin painted and shaped like a wicker picnic basket with a sealed glass bottle of milk.

Her son sighed and stood up, taking his plate to the sink, “How much longer do I have to do this again?”

“Do what? Go to school?” Ana replied in Spanish, “Well, you just turned 10. I’d like you to stay in until the term ends after you turn 13. I think you’ll be enough of a man by then to take over some of my responsibilities.”

The young boy turned and looked at her. She reached over and smoothed his straight, raven black hair and continued with a more gentle tone, “So, I’m afraid you have another 3 years.”

He rolled his eyes. They were striking for a child of his ethnicity, especially compared to his mother’s deep brown ones, bright and soulful ocean blue. They cut through anyone he gazed upon, almost glowing in contrast with his light tanned skin.

The grandfather clock chimed eight times. Ana handed her son a balled up bundle of mint, thyme, and basil to clean his mouth and teeth. He dutifully put it into his mouth, chewing it as she followed him into the living room for his coat and hat and out onto the porch of the house where she handed him his lunch and books. He leaned over the railing and spit the concoction out when they became tasteless, sauntering down the stairs to the barn.

Ana wrapped the wool shawl over her shoulders tighter for extra warmth. She looked at the overcast sky above Cain Valley and the rocky peaks of the Bear Mountains. Autumn had not even officially arrived yet, and the snow was already threatening. She frowned. Even after so long her Mexican blood hated the cold. It made her long for Guadalajara, the birthplace she hadn’t seen since she was a child.

Her son came back to the house riding on top of Josefina, a patient dark brown and white Tobiano patterned American Paint mare. Behind them he was leading Enrique, an old a trusty Appaloosa stallion with a coat of white with black Dalmatian spots. Ana had taught him well, the boy was so gentle and patient with them. It made him more experienced than others his age. In those moments, Ana allowed herself to think of his father.

Ana hitched Enrique to the post in front of the house. He reached up to her son, who leaned down and let her kiss him on the forehead.

“No fights!” She said firmly, “I do not need another letter from Miss Svensson about it!”

The boy nodded, but she knew by the look in his eyes he wasn’t going to promise anything he couldn’t keep, “Si, Mama. See you later.”

“I love you!” She called as he rode away to meet with the other children waiting at the main gate of the property.

“Love you too!” He replied.

The group wandered out of sight as the stage coach arrived, dropping off new visitors to the hotel she owned and picking up the old ones waiting on the porch. They were a diverse bunch, around similar ages give or take a few years. Some were Chinese from Mr. and Mrs. Liang, some were Irish from Mr. and Mrs. O’Hogan, a couple were black from Mr. and Mrs. Johnson, and hers half-Mexican. Despite their presence in the town for many years, and most accepting and welcoming of them, there were still ones who were not. That extended to their own children. It was no wonder her son, strong in his convictions, ended up getting into schoolyard brawls. Another thing of his father’s she saw in him, that she couldn’t curtail no matter how hard she tried.

She walked across the curved brick driveway to the inn on her property. Through a back door she entered a small office. She sat down at the desk, opening a time book sitting on the surface. She scanned through the names, noting the days and times they worked. Very rarely did the team she had miss days, or not fulfill the 8 to 10 hours she asked of them, without her knowing beforehand. She mentally totaled the pay for them. She went into the drawer and took out the stack of paychecks. She pulled out six of them and filled them out one after another, adding the same information each time with the exception of the names they were for.

She got up with the paychecks in hand, taking a satchel off a hook and putting them inside it before slinging it over her shoulder and across her chest so it rested on her hip opposite. She went to a safe hidden in a cabinet below a bookcase, entering the combination to open it. Inside was the money the inn made the past two weeks. She quickly counted it, first the bank notes and second the coins - $300.76 in total - before she put them in the satchel as well. She also grabbed a gun belt with a loaded revolver, buckling it around her waist under the bag.

Ana returned to Enrique at the her house, who was idly munching on some grass along the path as far has his tether could allow him to reach. She unhitched him and mounted him sidesaddle. She scratched him behind the ears, the horse making an unbothered huff as she guided him onto the main street to the general store a short ride away.

The general store was always busy, however the crowd always cleared the counter when Ana arrived. She politely greeted them, scanning for any unfamiliar faces who might cause trouble with the business she needed to attend to.

Behind the counter was a Mr. Latini. He was a scrawny man who always wore thick, round glasses and sported a mustache almost too big for his face. He had been the proprietor of the store, like his father before him, and shared 50/50 ownership with Ana since her husband passed on his businesses to her. It was something he was never thrilled with. She could always see it in his eyes when she came in for her half of the profits. For what reason she was never sure, perhaps because she was a woman, or because she was Mexican, or both, but he was smart enough to never debate about it. They both made out well in the end. She was never unkind or unfair, so they simply made their pleasantries and he gave her the money - $591.04 this time around. She nodded, put it in her bag, and got back on her horse.

The Farmer’s Bank of Cain Valley was the grandest building in the town. It was an ornate two story Neoclassical styled with large windows. Inside it was just as fancy with its carved wood paneling and accents and chessboard marble floor. It wasn’t busy yet, Ana being able to walk right up to one of the teller’s windows.

She took out the money and paychecks, sliding them to the teller, “I’d like to deposit the money and get these notarized to distribute.”

The teller gave her a slip and a pencil to fill out while he placed the proper stamps on the checks to make them exchangeable. They traded the pieces of paper and the teller took the money, recounting it at lighting speed to make sure he had the right amount. He disappeared for a moment, returning with a receipt.

“Thank you.” Ana said, putting them in her bag and departing.

The sky had cleared when she trotted back to her property on Enrique, the sky a vivid light blue and the sun warming the area a bit more. On payday Ana felt like she was on a grand tour of some sort. She would go into the blacksmith’s, paying to Mr. and Mrs. Johnson. She would go to the stable, putting Enrique in the paddock and paying Mr. and Mrs. O’Hogan, despite the fact Mrs. O’Hogan’s work was limited due to how pregnant she was. Her last stop was back to the inn, going through the main entrance to pay Mrs. Liang, who would hold onto her husband’s for when he returned in the evening. Ana took her satchel and gun belt back into the office.

Between the house and the inn Ana picked some bundles of herbs in the large garden, some for cooking and some medicinal. She carried them inside, walking through the floral wallpapered hallway to the kitchen. She hung them over the oven range nestled in the old renovated hearth to dry. She pulled out some small logs from under the oven, placing them into the firebox. She filled a kettle with water from a pump attached to the dry sink and placed it onto the stove.

She brewed tea, sitting at a secretary desk in the living room. She filled out a ledger book to keep track of everything she did that day, then moved on to reading the September issue of Good Housekeeping. There was once a time she believed reading those ladies’ magazines would teach her how to be a proper, honest woman. Now it often reminded her that most of the men and women who wrote for them were rich and metropolitan, out of touch and no understanding of how most people lived or raised their children. Damn Easterners.

Mr. Liang drove in a few hours earlier than expected, surprising Ana to see the wagon pull up in front of the living room’s large bay window. He jumped from the driver’s seat and raced up the stairs to the porch. He knocked on the front door rapidly, not stopping until Ana answered.

Liang bowed, “Madam Ana! Sorry to bother, but something important came up as I was return.”

Ana’s brow furrowed, “Is everything all right, Mr. Liang?”

“Came across man at Bacchus.” Liang began to explain, “He in back. He not good shape. Seem very sick. It came and go during ride, but I thought you could be help.”

Ana nodded and followed Liang to the wagon. Liang climbed into the back of the covered bed, hearing him say something to the man. The stranger grunted and replied.

His voice… Could it -? No. Ana knew that wasn’t possible. She swallowed that hope, waiting for Liang and the stranger to emerge.

Liang guided him out with the stranger’s arm around his shoulder. Liang told him where to step and had him sit down on the platform that doubled as a seat, letting him catch is horrible sounding breath. Ana’s eyes widened. A rush of disbelief washed over her, so intense it made her light headed. She stumbled backward, grabbing the stair railing to steady herself.

“You all right, Madam Ana?” Liang asked. Ana wasn’t able to form the words to reply, still staring at the stranger. He finally looked at her. His eyes were still the deep and soulful pools of ocean blue she remembered, but their clear sparkle gone. They were glassy and graying, bloodshot and sunken. Their life replaced by a painful sorrow.

He squinted in vague recognition, “…Anie?”

Anie… She hadn’t heard that in so long… His voice was still the same deep and warm baritone, but more rugged and raspy with age. It subsided the shock. She went over to him, sitting next to him and almost collapsing in the seat. She reached out, almost expecting the figure before her to disappear in an instant until her hands rested on his cheeks. She took in his face. He was older now, as was she, but the lines from the rough life he had led suited him more than it did her much softer ones. He had a few more scars than just the one on his chin that she remembered. She could tell his nose had been broken many more times. There was also the pitiful things. His features were gaunt. Under the deep purple and yellow bruises he was so pale, except for his cheeks and lips which were a feverish blush which burned under her fingertips. His beard had traces of both old and fresh blood trapped in the hairs. Above it all, he was there before her. After so long, she had him in her grasp again.

“Arthur…” Ana whispered, holding back tears, “It’s you… Dear God, it’s you…”

He nodded weakly, “Yeah. It’s me.”

Ana embraced Arthur tightly, burying her face in his shoulder. He felt so thin and fragile. His proud and strong, broad body withered away.

“You shouldn’t be this close to me, Anie,” Arthur said, “I’m real sick.”

Ana nodded. She let him go and turned to Liang, “Mr. Liang, could you go into the house and prepare the sick room? Afterwards I need you to fetch Dr. Anderson to take a look at him.”

Liang bowed, “Yes Madam.”

Ana put her attention back on Arthur. She took the shawl off her shoulders and wrapped it around his.

She sighed and shook her head, “You look like shit.”

Arthur remembered how blunt she could be, especially in her accent. He was unable to keep himself laughing, “I feel like shit.”

Ana helped Arthur stand. She led him into the inn, keeping her hand on his back. It felt nice for Arthur to be inside, warmed by the fire that crackled in the lobby.

“Mrs. Liang!” Ana called.

A small Chinese woman appeared from a hallway holding a stack of clean towels, “Yes, Madam Ana?”

“Are any of the bath rooms available? This gentleman here badly needs one.”

Mrs. Liang handed Ana some of the towels and a white nightshirt, “I just do up them all. Everything ready.”

Ana thanked Mrs. Liang and led Arthur down the hall. She chose one of the bigger baths. Despite how thin Arthur had become, he was still a rather large man. She didn’t think to ask, maybe she probably should have, but she was more focused on the task. She took the shawl off him first, then started for the closures of his suspenders to remove them.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Arthur remarked, putting his hands up to stop her, “What’re you doin?”

Ana put her hands on her hips and raised a thick, dark eyebrow, “What do you mean? You’re filthy. You clothes are filthy.”

“Yeah… But… Y’know…”

“Arthur, we have seen each other naked. It’s been a long time, but still. There’s no need for false modesty. Especially in your condition. I need to see how bad it is.”

Arthur relented. He knew she was stubborn when she was determined about something. At least, she was when she was younger. He just wished it wasn’t stripping him bare. She continued with his suspenders, throwing everything on a mirrored vanity. She moved on to the black bandanna he had tied around his neck, the one he used as a mask during robberies, then to his shirt. Ana made a remark about it, surprised it was still in one piece. He tried to recall if he had it that long, the beaten light blue shirt with dark blue double pinstripes. He had to agree it had seen better days, showing its wear and tear with stains of various substances and origins permanently soaked into the fabric.

“Hold still.” Ana ordered. She circled around him, inspecting every inch of his torso. His chest and stomach were deeply bruised like his face. She traced her fingers along the lines of his ribs, finding fractures that had begun to heal. He had a fresh scar on his left shoulder, still a light shade of pink. His condition heightened her worry. He was so underweight he was nearly a skeleton.

Her voice broke, “Oh, Arthur… What happened to you?”

Arthur winced, “Tuberculosis happened to me, Anie. And a man who ain’t even worth givin’ a name to.”

“Consumption…” Ana exhaled. She rubbed the bridge of her nose with her fingers, trying to gather her thoughts. He was right. If it was that disease, he was sick, and there was very little to do about it.

“Then I guess you came to the right place.” Ana added. She tapped him chest, motioning to sit on a stool next to the bathtub. She pulled the boots off his feet, and helped him take off his pants. Like a mother, she instructed him to get in the tub.

The steaming hot water felt good on Arthur’s infirm body, scented by lavender and rose oil. He laid back with a hum, watching Ana wander around the room to get things. She put a large bath sponge and a bar of Castile soap on the tray over the tub, going to the vanity and producing a shaving kit and a pair of scissors. She sharpened the razor blade before sitting down on the stool, dipping the shaving brush into the foamy cream and painting his beard with it. As she was with other blades Ana handled the razor well, carefully but quickly taking the hair off his jaw starting from below his right ear and ending below his left. She dipped the razor in the water to wash it off and dried it. She wiped the rest of the shaving cream off Arthur’s face with a washcloth that was warmed on top of the pot bellied stove in the room.

Ana smiled and rubbed the scar on Arthur’s chin, “There you are! There’s the handsome man I knew.”

“I’m gonna have to disagree with you,” Arthur chuckled, “ain’t nothin’ handsome ‘bout me.”

Ana made a sour expression and then rolled her eyes. She dipped the bristles of a hairbrush into the water. She started working on his hair, which had grown long and fell down his neck. She brushed it until whatever trapped in his locks had been removed and it shone with golden tones of polished copper. They didn’t speak for a while as Ana focused on cutting his hair. She wasn’t a barber by any means, but trimmed it to a normal length for a man and keeping it a little bit longer on top. She gave it one last douse before parting it on his right side.

Arthur was the one to break the silence, “Madam, huh?”

“Only the Liangs call me that.” Ana replied as she moved on to washing his body, “It has something to do with their culture putting an importance on honorifics. The Chinese have a very specific view on courtesy.”

“I guess. Jus’ sounds weird is all.” Arthur said, hissing through the ache when she went over a bruise, “How long you been here anyway, Anie?”

“Ten years. I ended up here after…” Ana trailed off.

He looked at her and nodded, “I understand.”

“I was fortunate somehow.” Ana continued, “I got married. I had a baby. My husband died. I got left with this business of his. My son is t-… Nine now.”

“At least one of us figured out how to live honest.”

“It wasn’t easy, Arthur. In fact, it was almost unbearable for a couple of years. When you spend all your life on the run, doing whatever you needed to do to survive in spite of any law. Ending up on the other side of it, your instincts still remain.”

Ana assisted Arthur out of the tub. She wrapped him in the warm towels and helped him dry off. He put on the knee length white cotton nightshirt and a pair of matching slippers. After all of what he bad been through, he had to admit it was nice to be clean.

#rdr2 #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 posting #rdr #red dead redemption #arthur morgan fanfiction #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 fandom #rdr2 fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 fanfiction #rdr2 community #red dead 2 #red dead redemption arthur #red dead redemption community #arthur morgan rdr2

[edogawa-division]

ARB Birthday Special 2023: Kaoru Shinozaki

~~ September 15th ~~

“There is no great genius without a mixture of madness.”

Login Lines:

“Zzzzzzz…. Gah! I'm up! I'm awake! Oh shit, you scared me! Don't do that! I can feel my heart pounding! Huh? Is this a present?” 

“Why are you even giving this to me? It’s not like my birthday is anytime soon. Wait, what do you mean today is my birthday? Athena dammit! I forgot again!” 

Voice Lines:

“I can't believe I forgot about my birthday for the second year in a row. I mean, I did spend the last few days working on an invention. Oh well, I might as well see what chaos I can get up to today.” 

“Alright! “Operation: Birthday Bash” is a go! Mwahahaha! Major intelligence agencies all across the world are currently waking up to a malware virus that I just sent to their servers!*giggles* It's nothing too bad. All it's going to do is forcibly take control of their speaker systems and play “Never Gonna Give You Up” on repeat all day. Take that you fuckers!”

“Hi Mama, Papa, Nii-san. It's me. I’m doing alright, just turned 23, but I'm sure you all knew that.*sighs* Lately, I've been thinking about what my life would be like if the accident never happened. I think…I would've been miserable, and isn't that a horrible thought? I never said this, but for all that you loved me, none of you ever bothered to understand me. How could you? I was too different. What? You don't think I heard you talking at night? That you thought I walked the line between genius and insanity. That you thought I would grow up to be a villain? That some days you were even afraid of me? Ha! A part of me resents you for that even now.” 

“You know A.D.A is usually the first one to wish me happy birthday, but I haven't heard from her all day, which is pretty strange. I think she’s planning something because she asked me a while back if I had any plans for my birthday all while looking like the cat who ate the canary. Ehhhh…I should probably prepare for the worst. A.D.A can get pretty vindictive when the mood hits her.” 

“Yurikoooo! What did you get me? Noooo! Betrayed by my own mother! Next thing you know I’ll be left out on the cold streets to fend for myself. Oh, the horror! *wheezes* Okay, okay, I’m done! Oh, come on, Yuriko! It's my birthday. Let me live a little! Anyway, did you not really get me anything? Hahaha! I knew you’d never let me down! So, whatcha get me?” 

“A string of numbers? Wait, are these what I think they are? Fuck…Yuriko that place is literally one of the best guarded networks in the world. I could spend years attempting to hack it as Delphi, and even then, I would only be able to make a dent in their firewall. Literally, the only ones allowed to have access to that place are the top and, I mean, top dogs of the underworld. So why? Why give this to me? Why give me access to… somewhere where I make the worst of my genius blossom to life with no consequences? A storm, huh? You can count on me, Yuriko. I promise.” 

“No wait Kanra! *crunch* K-K-Kanra it seems like your birthday hugs get stronger every year huh? My ribs certainly can tell. Oh, what are we waiting for then? You know I love your cakes Kanra! Hahaha! Okay, then what did you get me?” 

“Pfffffftt! Kanra that thing is nearly as tall as you are! Hahaha! No, but seriously Kanra thank you. I've always wanted one of these. How did you even get one anyway? This thing is kinda of expensive. *wheeze* Kanra please! You can't treat a fight like it's a Pokémon battle. Hahaha! Never change Kanra.” 

“A.D.A! There you are! You're even in your android body, too! So I can only assume you have something special planned for me today. A.D.A…your grin is kind of scaring me. The last time you grinned like that, you didn't let me have coffee for 2 weeks. Oh gods, you are banning me from coffee again! A.D.A, please! I need coffee to survive! A.D.A…you’re still not filling me with confidence, but alright, what did you get me?”

“Uhhh…A.D.A? This is just a piece of paper with a time and a set of directions on it. Of course a…A.D.A WHAT DO YOU MEAN DATE??? Y-y-you…dinner…him…error…error…asdkhgkjiwenfkdklyyxgsitzfzjfzkfoxyoaryhdftwehadghffnjkelfhewnejwnjb…*faints*”

Yuriko Lines:

“Happy Birthday, Kaoru. *raises eyebrow* Does it look like I'm carrying a gift for you? *sighs* Are you done with your little charade Kaoru? Birthday or not, please do not wail like you’re the ghost of a Victorian child. Really?  Do you truly believe I would get you anything? What kind of mother would I be if I didn't get my own daughter anything? Now I'm sure you’ll find this quite interesting.” 

“Not just any set of numbers, Kaoru. I had to pull quite a few strings for these numbers. As you know, there's the black market which even a regular citizen can get access to if they look hard enough and then there's █ █ █ █ █ █ █. A global network of various dealers and brokers, hidden behind a series of codes and unknown numbers. Where only the truly dangerous lie, both people and items. It’s so well hidden that not even the various governments are aware of its existence, or if they do, all they know is rumors. Kaoru, I won't lie. A storm is brewing and heading our way. I’m not sure when or how, but I’ll be damned if I don't do everything in my power to make sure the three of us survive. If that means giving you access to someplace where you can be the worst version of yourself, then so be it. I know Kaoru, I know.”

Kanra Lines:

“Happy Birthday Kaoru! *hugs* Eh? Sorry! Guess I got a little too excited. Ah! Nevermind that! Come on Kaoru! I have your birthday cake in the kitchen! First I have to give you your present! I hope you like it!”

“Ta-da! Your very own giant Mareep doll! It is not! I can see over it! Hm? Oh right. So every time I beat someone unconscious I rummage through their wallets and steal all the cash they have on them. Why not? Winner’s rights! If people wanna pick a fight with me they better be prepared to fork over some cash when they lose!”

Bonus! A.D.A Lines:

“Kaoru my dear! Happy Birthday! Oh, I have just a little something special for you today. *grins widely*  Hm? Hahaha! Don’t be so scared, Kaoru, it's nothing like that. I will admit that it was a bit hard to work on the plan without you noticing, but I succeeded. Now, here I have something for you!”

“Why is it the time and location for your dinner reservation for your date with that pretty goth boy! Of course! He seemed surprised when I asked him. He was under the impression that you would be spending your birthday with Yuriko and Kanra, but I waved off his concern and told him you would love it if he took you out for dinner! Oh dear, her mind is erroring. Are you alright, Kaoru? Kaoru? AHH! SHE FAINTED!”

#hypnosis microphone #hypnosis mic #hypmic #hypmic oc #hypnosis mic oc #edogawa division #wicked requiem #shinozaki kaoru #kuromiya yuriko #akemi kanra #a.d.a #alternative rap battle #arb #happy birthday kaoru 2023

[keithisbae1]

The Mershark & Mermaid - Part 6

The young sharkling stared at the fish before her unsure where to start. “If you don’t eat you won’t grow big and strong.” Her Papa said. Even so, Sarada had never eaten a fish before. The two were in Sasuke’s home, he lived down deep in a cave where no one could bother him. It seemed quite lonely but on the plus side, they didn’t have to worry about any unexpected intruders. “It’s staring at me…” The little mershark muttered poking it. Sasuke sighed and was about to give her his piece instead until the little sharkling disappeared and brought back a bunch of seaweed. “But that’s okay, I found this.” She said placing it in a ‘bowl.’ Well that was what the humans referred it to Sakura had told him. “Does Mama make you this?” 

“Yeah, it’s my favourite.” She grinned slurping away using her claws; unfortunately, seaweed wasn’t enough for a growing sharkling. “It’ll get easier… as you get older your instincts will kick in and you won’t hesitate but to go in for the kill.” Sarada had stopped eating at that, so… she was just going to attack innocent creatures for no reason? “Is this why everyone back home is afraid of me?” She may be young but wasn’t stupid. It was obvious how different, bigger even Sarada was than merfolks. They didn’t like her clearly but it never occurred to her that they could simply… be afraid. She only had a few close friends but would never want to hurt them. “We’re predators Sarada, and they’re the prey. That’s how the world works.” If she was going to survive as a sharkling, he had to toughen her up. Otherwise, she may as well live with Sakura and at this rate neither was a great option. “But you never ate Mama, so you’re a hipocrit, Papa.” This again. “I think you mean a hypocrite.” “That’s what I said, hipocrit,” Sasuke smirked amused, for someone who talks a lot it was adorable how she pronounced certain words wrong. And he was still getting used to being called ‘Papa.’ Papa, Papa, Papa. It was like she wouldn’t stop saying it, not that he could blame her. “But Sarada won’t eat fish, I will be a fish-free shark.” 

“You really think you can decide that.” “Yup!” Such confidence. “Finish your food,” was all he responded ruffling her hair, he'll let her be for now. Sarada pouted trying to sort out her small bang. “Yo Sasuke! You in there?” 

Suigetsu? Immediately Sasuke was on high alert, as was his daughter. Sasuke told her to remain quiet as he went out to get rid of his friend, only to find another two sharks waiting. Did something happen? “What is it? I’m busy.” “Yeah, yeah. You’d rather brood alone but this is urgent. Apparently, a mermaid was spotted near the area not too long ago.” Ah, most likely Sakura. She should be back home by now though. “And get this, Neji also met one. She was looking for some bracelet or something. I’m telling you Sasuke, they’re taking advantage of us. They think we’ve gone… soft…” He wasn’t like where this going. “What’s your point?” “My point is, the next intruder who comes in should get a warning, regardless if they’re friends with pinky or not. A bite, a scratch? We’re sharks Sasuke, they are food! You can’t keep expecting us to live like this!” “I couldn't care less if you want to go ahead and kill a mermaid but leave Sakura and her friends alone. That was the deal.” At this little Sarada had peeked out to see what was going on. There were three other sharks with her Papa. A white-haired male with a white tail, his fangs were big and scary. A red-haired female with a black tail which Sarada found to be mesmerising. It wasn’t every day she got to meet a fellow female shark and her Papa was right about them growing bigger. She was twice Mama’s size, did that mean she would grow as big as well? And finally, an orange-haired male who was slightly bigger than the other two but not like her Papa, with a purple tail. Despite the size, he gave off a calming aura. 

Sarada was both intrigued but also terrified. On one claw, she really wanted to meet them, as they were friends of Sasuke so surely they wouldn’t eat her right? However, Papa had told her strictly to stay inside and warned her about the dangers.

“They're mocking us, they know we won't touch them so they keep coming back. They need to be taught a lesson.” “I think you’re the one who’s getting cocky. Would you like a reminder of what I did with your tail?” “Sasuke...” Jugo could already feel the urge to kill coming from the Uchiha so got in between for the other shark's sake.

“I told you this was a bad idea,” Karin muttered to Suigetsu. “Papa you shouldn’t be threading your friends.” Sarada appeared beside him with a serious expression, once again mispronouncing her words. “Mama would not approve.” “I thought I told you to stay in the cave.” Despite the deadliness in his voice and anger, Sarada wasn't bothered, as if she was already used to it. All three sharks turned to the little sharkling who seemed remarkably like Sasuke, except for as long as they knew him Sasuke had shown no other interest besides the mermaid. “Who's she?” Suigetsu pointed to the sharkling confused. “Hi! I'm Sarada.” She was about to swim up and shake his claw but Sasuke pulled her back behind him. “Sarada.” He gave her a stern warning. 

“Sasuke... don't tell me she's...” Karin gave Sasuke a look already knowing the answer. “Shit Sasuke! Your family is going to kill her.” “Language Suigetsu!” Karin bonked him on the head and he rubbed the sore spot. “Oh come on! You can't think this is okay? I mean seriously a mermaid and mershark? It's unnatural. You could have any shark in the world Sasuke and you chose her. Even pink hair isn't natural for a mermaid.” “Hey!” Sarada swam up to Suigetsu frowning. “Mama is really pretty!” There! That will teach him and swam back beside her Papa. All whilst the white shark remained quiet, trying to process if that was meant to be a comeback. “She really taught you,” Karin smirked enjoying the baffled look on Suigetsu's face and the sharkling's smugness. “Oi, that wasn’t… don’t encourage her!” 

“I would appreciate it if you didn't insult my daughter's mother.” “Daughter's mother? So you two aren't...” Suigetsu made a motion with his arms and Sasuke twitched resisting the urge to punch him. Not in front of his daughter at least.

“I have no intention of starting such things with her again. You all keep your side of the bargain and I'll keep mine. You leave Sakura and her friends alone and I'll stay away from her.” Now Sarada was even more confused, didn't Papa say he would make it up to Mama or is he lying to protect her again? Gah, adults were so confusing. “Right.” Suigetsu didn't believe it. And neither did the other two, it was clear as day how he still harboured feelings towards the mermaid. Did they understand such feelings? Nope, but he was their friend and they only wanted what was best for him. “But is it really safe to keep her here Sasuke, your family... especially Madara? She wouldn't be safe, not mention Orochimaru.” “Karin's right, what if they find out about this Sakura?” Jugo asked, worried for the little one. She was too innocent for their world. “For now, we're sharing custody, Sarada only has to be here for as long as Sakura allows me. And if they do find out they don't have to know she's Sakura’s. As far as they're concerned she's from a random shark and by then Sarada will be a blood-thirsty-” he turned to look at his daughter only she was nowhere to be seen. Instead, they found her behind him touching a small fish's nose with her claw. “Boop! Now you boop me.” The small fish then booped its nose with hers. All four sweatdropped at the scene. 

“You are both screwed!” Suigetsu muttered, oh yes this plan was foolproof. Jugo was the first to snap out of it swimming and introducing himself to Sarada. The small fish didn't seem frightened either and happily swam around the two. 

“Do you like fishes too Mr Jugo?” Sarada's eyes sparkled with curiosity. “Uhh...” he wasn't sure how to respond without breaking her heart. 

~~~

She knew it was too risky to swim all the way out here, but Tenten had successfully snuck out and needed to find out the truth. Whatever the Uchiha was hiding, she would get to the bottom of it, Sakura deserved some closure. But how to find such a shark? The Hyuga didn’t seem too happy when she was there last time, she could always pretend to lose her bracelet again if push comes to shove. “Last time we met was here?” She swam looking around. “Or was it here… great now I got myself lost!” And she was talking to herself.

Another bonus.

“Looking for someone?” A voice startled her and she almost threw her shell weapon at him. “Aaaah, don’t startle me!” “What do you want? I’d thought you would have learnt your lesson after last time.” As polite as always. “Neji Hyuga,” Tenten stated as if she didn’t hear what he said before. His eye twitched at such disrespect. “I challenge you to a game.” “A game?” What a ridiculous request. “Yes, if I win you have to answer all my questions. All of them!” “And if I win?”And if he wins… uh she didn’t think this through. “What’s in it for me?” 

What was in it for him? “Uh… I’ll do whatever you want? Including something really embarrassing, anything.” It’s not like she would lose to him anyway. With what Tenten had in mind. The mershark tsked before swimming away.

“Enough, I don't want to indulge and get involved with you.” Go figure. Guess she'll have to hit him where it really hurts. “So, you're afraid to lose?” “You wish.” 

“Hey, that's totally fine. I mean I did beat up four sharks myself when I was in my teens so I can understand why-” “Deal.” He wasn't going to let some mermaid push him about.

#sasusaku #sasuke uchiha x sakura haruno #sasusaku fanfic #ssfanfic #sasusakufanfiction #mershark/mermaid AU #mershark Sasuke #mermaid Sakura #mershark Sarada

[draconic-ichor]

Morgott walked along the cobbled paths of the countryside, cane thrumming the ancient stones. His slow foot falls were echoed by much smaller ones, his young son accompanying him. It was refreshing to get away from the noise of the capital, it’s oppressive walls a mile behind them. If only for an afternoon.

His eldest, Maddox, was very agreeable on outings such as these; lacking his younger siblings short attention and Magnus’s brashness. Maddox enjoyed the one-on-one time with his father as well, it being a scarcity given the King’s overloaded schedule.

Morgott had been absentmindedly sharing bits of his work to the young one, spoonfuls of parts Maddox would understand. He nodded along, keeping up with Morgott’s much larger strides.

“Will I be king one day?” The boy asked.

Morgott paused for a moment in thought, even steps returning with his answer, “The King of Lyndell is not decided through succession, I’m afraid.”

“What does that mean?” Maddox asked curiously.

“Well,” Morgott explained, “The place of King is traditionally filled by the chosen consort to the God vassal: thy mother, in this case.”

Maddox jumped up onto a log that ran along the path, balancing as he crossed it. “Queen Marika did not choose Lord Godfrey.” He poised out.

“Have been reading thy histories?” Morgott’s lips shadowed a smile.

“Mhm!”

“Those who were worthy enough to claim the Elden Ring earned a place astride vassal as consort.” He nodded.

“But mama is both!” Maddox pointed out, hopping back to the path with ease.

“Aye, allowing thy Lady freedom of choice.” Morgott went on, “Thy title is quite steadfast, unless there tis a shift in the Greater Will’s vassal, or thy Mother chooses different for a consort.”

“Hmm…” Maddox’s brow knotted in thought as he processed the information. They reached the end of the path, stopping by a cliff side. Morgott rested on his cane, sighing out at the scenery before him.

“Papa.” Maddox tugged on his robes gently.

“Hm?” Morgott looked down into ever curios golden eyes.

“Why did Mama choose you?” The boy asked genuinely, tail perking up behind him.

“Ah…” Morgott almost chuckled, looking off into the afternoon sun. Far off goats ate away at the wildflowers, nothing more than dark shapes against the golden grasses of Altus. He breathed, closing his eyes as he answered, voice far away, “Sometimes, mine dear boy, I ask mineself the same…”

#father son time #little bit of fluff #morgott and Maddox #tiny Maddox #fully dabbles #elden ring #morgott

[thatpunkmaximoff]

[Book 2 of 2]

Storyline: 5/5 Smut: 10/5

So, Hunting Adeline is definitely darker than Haunting Adeline, but that was a given from every review I read about this book. I was afraid I wasn't going to be able to read this book because these rape scenes greatly differ from those "rape" scenes in Haunting Adeline, but I ate this book up!

Yes, it's terrible that Adeline goes through everything she does. But I loved the way Zade handled everything and helped Adeline overcome her fears and trauma. I never thought I'd root for a stalker, but here I am rooting for Zade fuckin' Meadows lol.

Now go forth and read my thoughts as I read the book lmao:

So not a quick reunion. I’m already gonna hate it.

Day one of reading and I didn’t even last 3 pages. Not the book’s fault, it’s the inevitable storms heading my way. I’m nervous as fuck rn lol

Back to reading! Okay, so we’re back to having more letters at the end of the chapters. Who the fuck is Molly?

THE FUCKING SENATAOR’S WIFE IS WHO SET ZADE UP AND HAD ADELINE KIDNAPED?! FUCK THIS HOE!

Jay and Zade trying to call via their Bluetooth had me grinning like an idiot. *sighs* And now back to Adeline and whatever hell she’s going through.

Oh great. So the doctor’s a creep too.

I’m so glad Zade got to Daya and she’s okay. She’s gonna keep him in check on their hunt for Adeline, isn’t she?

And Adeline’s found another journal. Maybe this one will tell her how to escape.

Right off the bat, I don’t like Sydney.

..and there’s the first rape scene.

So what’s the deal with Rio? He’s so hot and cold. Do I like him? Or is he gonna prove to really be an asshole? I’m so confused.

Woo. Zade is PISSED.

And fuck Sydney! I hope Adeline kicks her ass.

She survived the Culling! But Sydney is up to something. I really hate this girl.

That’s right, Adeline. Don’t be a meek little mouse around Sydney. Show that bitch everything Zade has taught you.

Two months later. Fuckkkk.

Oh shit. Zade rescued Jillian and Gloria. They’ve told him about Adeline!

Holy shit! That’s my fucking girl! She killed Sydney and I’ve never been happier. And now Rio is helping her escape? Oh mama. I’m ready for this, although I have a bad feeling she’s gonna get caught.

THEY FOUND EACH OTHER! THEY’RE FUCKING REUNITED 😭

“I see you’re still creepy.” “Forever and always, baby.”

“Meadows, baby. Our last name is Meadows.” 😏

Omg. Sibby is back! 😂 And she was totally feeling that sexual tension between Zade and Adeline, and wanted in too lol

They found Francesca and Rocco! Fuck yes. Let the kidnappings and torture begin.

That fucking knife scene! Holy shit! And Adeline making him beg for a lick 🥵

Wow. Adeline was doing so well and then Xavier fucking sent her twenty steps back.

Oh. Oh damn. Zade took control and then Adeline took control.. and 💥 They really did that with a rose, huh 😂

Oh my fucking god. Zade making Adeline cum in front of Xavier 🤣 Fuck yes. He always wanted Adeline to moan his name, but she never did. She moaned for God. God equals Zade and now Xavier knows. He’s a jealous little bitch now.

Thank god those sick fucks are dead. Sibby playing frisbee with body parts and Zade having to search for them cracked me up.

And the re-opening of her scars and that bathtub scene. Holy shit. Why is all the weird stuff so fucking hot?

She told him she loved him!!!!

Oh damn. Her mom was shot 😬 And her dad’s being a dick.

Zade being a dick and telling Adeline he took out her IUD while fucking 😂

Claire finally got what was coming. Fuck yes.

Wait! Who the fuck is Kraven and how does he know Sibby?! You can’t do a three month time jump after that without explaining!!

And Sibby is gone. Aww.

Holy shit! They’re engaged!

Seriously?! It’s gonna end with a note from Rio?! I need more!!!!

#cat and mouse duet #hunting adeline #adeline #zade #zade meadows #daya #sibel #sibby #rio #book review #trigger warning #tw: rape #booktok review