#Fanfition

[mercurycft]

𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 — 𝐋𝐖

## the bubble universe - leah x reader !!

guyyyys! i am feeeeding you all of the fluffy goodness of the bubble universe!! and i am absolutely loving writing this so bloody much! how have you all been!? lmk how you’re all feeling about my new stuff and the BU! i hope you all love this one as much as i do! love always - RGx

find THE BUBBLE UNIVERSE — here

early pregnancy - the first trimester, hints about fears of miscarriage, anxiety language, fluffy loved up ness, leah being the best partner ever, morning sickness and ultrasounds, angst if you squint haaard, some technical language about scans and pregnancy tracking. not proof read because again, fuck that.

6k words.

“we’re fully booked this week,” the receptionist on the other end of the line says gently. “but we can fit you in next tuesday. we’ll want to run a few blood tests first before we look at scans.”

a week. 

you hang up with shaking hands and a strange tightness in your chest. it’s not panic exactly, just that familiar, coiled kind of hope. the kind that still knows how to brace. leah’s still brushing her teeth when you  find her, sleep-creased and messy-haired. you lean against the bathroom doorway and wait until she sees your face in the mirror.

“they can’t see us for a week,” you say softly.

she spits toothpaste into the sink, rinses, turns. “okay,” she says, and wraps her arms around your waist like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “so we wait.”

the days between the ‘official’ positive and the clinic appointment are tender in ways you didn’t expect. leah treats your body like it’s made of glass now. a good kind; expensive, delicate, museum-worthy. she reads every label on every food item in the fridge. she stops drinking caffeinated coffee, even though you tell her she doesn’t need to. every morning, she pours you both tea and says “cheers” like it’s still fun.

you try not to overthink. try not to look at the toilet paper every time you pee. try not to google every ache or twinge. but sometimes you cry for no reason, and sometimes for good reason, like the night you dropped a full tub of blueberries on the floor and just sat there in the middle of the kitchen, hands in your lap, trying not to fall apart.

when leah found you there she didn’t laugh, didn’t fuss. just crouched beside you and helped pick up every single one. “that’s our baby’s vitamin C gone,” she whispered, joking, and kissed the tip of your nose. you laughed together, a little broken, and then cried again.

when the appointment finally arrives, it feels too big. like a checkpoint in a video game. like a door you have to knock on with both hands.

it’s raining. leah insists on driving even though you could’ve taken a cab. she says it’s about control. you don’t ask questions.

the clinic feels smaller than you remember. less sterile. more.. waiting. there are other couples in the chairs. quiet conversations. someone holding a tiny pair of socks in her lap. when they call your name, leah squeezes your hand and stands first.

they take your blood. they ask about symptoms- nausea? fatigue? any spotting?  and leah answers half of them for you, like she already knows everything. the nurse smiles. she tells you the hcg levels look “very encouraging.” 

then she says it:

“you’re probably around three, maybe three and a half weeks. it’s very early. too early to scan, we won’t see much yet, and we don’t want to cause unnecessary stress.”

you nod. you feel small.

“we’ll bring you back in at six weeks for a scan, we’ll maybe even be able to see baby’s heartbeat.” she says with a smile, it reads genuine, but you can’t help the nerves that stir in your ribs. “it’s important that you rest between now and then. no heavy lifting, no high-impact exercise. stay hydrated, take your prenatal vitamins daily, and try to limit stress where you can.”

then the part you were expecting, but still hate hearing:

“we recommend waiting until the twelve-week mark before telling anyone outside your very inner circle. early pregnancy is… fragile. we just want to give this the best possible chance.”

you nod again. you feel leah’s hand press against the small of your back, grounding you.

in the car afterwards, it takes you a while to speak. the rain dots the windows gently, a rhythm like static. leah rests her forehead on the steering wheel and exhales.

“three weeks,” she says finally. “jesus. that’s.. so tiny.”

you let out a breath. “i know.” she turns to you. eyes soft.

“but it’s there.”

you nod. “yeah. it’s there.”

she cups your cheek, thumb brushing just beneath your eye. “we’ve got to protect it now.”

and you know she means all of it — your body, your heart, the tiny new life waiting somewhere inside you to be believed in.

for weeks, nearing months, you don’t tell anyone. just like the doctor suggested. 

not yet, at least. 

not because you’re hiding it, but because it feels like a secret the universe whispered just to you. something still forming, still blooming in the dark. 

it belongs to the two of you. 

leah keeps a list of names in her notes app. you’re not allowed to see it. you write little letters to no one in your journal. sometimes you fall asleep with your hand on your belly, even though there’s nothing to feel yet.

you’re not showing. not at all. but leah still tugs your shirt down gently when it rides up, like she’s shielding something.

she takes a picture of your stomach in week four. kisses it after.

“in case we forget how small you started,” she whispers, not to you, to your stomach.

you know you won’t forget. you don’t think you ever could.

you start noticing the shift around the end of week four, not that you’re counting (you definitely are.). it’s nothing major, not like the movies where someone throws up into a bin dramatically and knows instantly, it’s more like your body is turning the volume up on itself, bit by bit. 

food starts to smell different. leah’s aftershave, the one you usually love, makes your stomach twist if she sprays too much. you’re exhausted in a way that feels bone-deep.

“you’re growing a whole organ,” leah says one night when you apologise for dozing off halfway through a film. she doesn’t look annoyed, just kind of awed by it. “like… your body’s making a new body part. the placenta. that’s mental.”

you blink at her. “did you google that?”

she shrugs, but her ears go a little pink. 

“maybe.” and she does more than google. she orders two books and downloads an app that tells her how big the baby is each week along with  little facts about the growth, she reads them out loud when you’re half-asleep and screenshots bits she wants to talk about later. 

she’s taking it seriously. more seriously than you expected, if you’re honest. not in a rigid or panicky way, just like she’s trying to learn the shape of this with you.

she still kisses your belly every night before bed, despite the lack of bump, lack of evidence there is even a human growing inside you. sometimes you laugh and tell her she’s being ridiculous, but you don’t mean it. not even a little. it’s becoming your favourite part of the day.

as the fifth week draws to an end, the nausea starts properly.

you don’t throw up exactly, not every day, anyway. but it’s there, constantly, like a low hum in the back of your throat. toast helps. sometimes ice water with lemon. sometimes laying down in a dark room while leah rubs your back in slow circles until your breathing evens out.

“i feel useless,” she says one night, crouched on the bathroom floor beside you. your forehead’s pressed against the cold porcelain of the bathtub, your eyes watery.

“you’re not,” you mumble. “you’re- you’re here.”

she brushes hair from your face, careful and soft. “i just hate seeing you like this.”

you reach for her hand and squeeze.“you’re doing everything right.”

she makes you soup. it’s too salty but you eat it anyway.

she buys ginger chews. you spit one out immediately.

she gets sea sickness bands, the elastic kind with the little pressure bead. they actually help. she doesn’t say i told you so.

you fall asleep in the middle of a conversation and she just pulls the blanket up over you and finishes your sentence to the empty room.

you cry at a dog food commercial and she doesn’t even blink. just grabs the tissues and climbs into bed beside you like it’s all normal now.

you haven’t told anyone yet, just as discussed. 

but there’s a shift in how you exist in the world, its small, but it’s there. like you’re holding a glowing ember behind your ribs and everything feels a little warmer for it. you catch yourself with your hand on your stomach in the middle of the grocery store. leah orders decaf at brunch without even looking at the menu. 

when her mum calls, leah presses her phone tight to her ear like she’s afraid something might spill out of her mouth if she relaxes too much.

“do you think they’ll be excited?” you ask one night, curled into her on the sofa.

“my mum?” leah pauses. “yeah. i think she might cry. dad definitely will,” 

“what about your brother?”

she laughs softly. “he’ll probably make some rude joke and then go out and buy a full arsenal baby kit the same day.”

“that’s kind of sweet.”

“it is,” she agrees, and then, after a pause: “you don’t have to tell anyone until you’re ready. not even our families. not even mine.”

“it’s not just about me, le, this is our news.” you say, looking at here through your tired yes. she doesn’t reply, but you know what she’s thinking. you both want to. soon. scared it will eat you up if you don’t. 

but still you don’t, not even your parents. not until that six-week scan, not until someone confirms that this flicker inside you is really doing what it’s meant to do. but the want is there. it bubbles up in you sometimes, surprising and bright. 

you want to see her mum’s face. you want to hear her brother’s jokes. you want this tiny, invisible thing to be something other people believe in, too.

you fall asleep with your head on leah’s chest and her fingers drawing slow circles against your shoulder blade. she’s humming, something low and wordless, and it makes your chest ache a little.

six weeks arrives quiet and early, folded into a tuesday morning like it’s nothing special. but it is. 

you wake up before the alarm, stomach already fluttering with nerves and nausea that you try to keep at bay with deep breaths and sips of water.

leah moves around the house quietly, content, soft-footed and serious. her voice is low, even when she’s just asking if you want toast. you nod and manage a bite before giving up, the nausea still curled somewhere behind your ribs.

“you don’t have to be nervous,” she says, slipping into the space beside you on the bed, balancing the plate on her knee.

you give her a look. “yes i do.”

she pauses, takes a deep breath. “yeah. okay. me too.”

the car ride is quiet. your fingers twitch against your thighs until she reaches over and laces them with hers, like she doesn’t even have to look. the city rolls past in grey and green, the roads slick from an early rain. everything feels sharper. heavier. like the world knows what you’re carrying.

you check in, fill out a few forms with hands that shake just enough to smudge your signature. and then they call your name again, his time for the scan.

the room is dim. clinical, but not cold. leah stands beside the bed, eyes trained on the monitor before anything even begins. the nurse is kind. her name is carla. she explains every step, even the ones you already know.

before the scan starts, leah gently clears her throat and asks, “would it be okay if i film for a minute? just to get our reaction? just on my phone? so we have it. to watch later.”

carla smiles warmly. “of course. just keep it respectful, and try not to interfere with the equipment.”

you squeeze leah’s hand, grateful. your heart is pounding, nerves twisting in your stomach.

“we’re going to do a transvaginal scan today — it’s clearer this early on. nothing to worry about. you might feel a bit of pressure,” carla continues.

you nod, biting your lip.

the cold wand presses gently, and the screen flickers to life in grayscale and static and then, 

“okay,” carla says softly. “let’s see what we’ve got.”

leah lifts her phone carefully and starts recording, her lens catching the flicker of light on the screen despite the dim room, but mostly it focuses on you: one hand tucked behind your head and the other holding leah’s just in the frame, the wide eyes, the breath caught in your throat, the tears that come unbidden.

it takes a second. one heartbeat. two.

and then: a tiny, flickering light in the middle of a grainy blob.

“is that?” leah whispers.

carla smiles. “that’s the heartbeat.”

you let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. it stutters a little, catches halfway in your throat, and then comes out wet. tears spill down your cheeks before you can stop them. you blink hard.

leah keeps filming, voice soft, “it’s real. we’re really doing this.”

carla taps a few buttons. “baby’s measuring right on track. six weeks, one day. strong little heartbeat. 118 bpm. everything looks perfect.”

you keep watching the screen, the flicker, the pulse — the little life inside you.

leah lowers her phone and wipes a tear from your cheek, her own eyes shining.

“you okay?” she asks.

you nod, overwhelmed. “are you okay?”

“no,” she says, laughing through a sob. “but in a good way.”

as the scan continues, carla poking and prodding around to do her checks, you find yourself asking questions quietly, “so, i know it’s early but is it possible to know the due date, roughly? and will we need more appointments soon?”

carla glances at the measurements on the screen and smiles gently. “based on today, you’re about six weeks along, so your due date would be around late november, but we always take that as an estimate at this stage.”

you nod along to her words as she taps the keyboard and pulls up some notes. “you’ll definitely need another scan around 10 to 12 weeks, that’s when we get a clearer picture and check on development. in the meantime, you’ll have regular blood tests and check-ins to monitor everything.”

she leans in, voice soft but serious. “early pregnancies from IVF can sometimes need extra monitoring, so it’s important to take care of yourself and come to all your appointments. but for now, everything looks very good.”

you nod, heart racing but comforted by her calm. leah squeezes your hand, her eyes on you.

at the end of the scan, she prints out a strip of little photos for you. a blurry, smudged, grey-and-white miracle that doesn’t look like anything but means everything. 

leah carries it out of the clinic like it’s worth a million pounds. back at the car, you’re both a mess of giddy-nerves. chatting absentmindedly with eyes glued to your new prized-possession. the pair of you stare at the pictures for a while, before you prop up your phone and snap a series of pictures. you and leah on either side of the middle console, the strip of pictures held between you - smiles beaming. 

“it’s real,” she says once, so quiet you almost miss it. you turn your head to look at her. she’s staring at the print like it’s magic.

“we saw it,” you whisper. she leans in and kisses you, slow and certain, which ends in a fit of giggles and tears. 

then, you hit seven weeks.

it passes without much fanfare, no new appointments, no major changes, just steady and private unfolding. 

you wake up to leah curled around you, her hand resting soft and flat over your stomach. it’s barely grown, actually not at all, but she touches it like she’s memorising it already. like she’s grounding herself to the fact that something’s there.

you’re still keeping everything quiet. it’s become a kind of game between you, pretending nothing’s changed when people check in, dodging questions about nights out and dinner plans and why you haven’t been seen at the pub lately. but inside your little home, it’s all you talk about.

you find yourself looking at the fridge more often now. the scan pictures are still up, soft and fuzzy, like little grayscale ghosts. but they’re already worn at the corners from how often you handle them. 

sometimes you catch leah just standing there, arms crossed, staring at them like they might shift or change if she watches closely enough.

you start writing things down. small notes in your phone about how you feel each day. about the wave of nausea that hit in the middle of brushing your teeth, the dream you had where the baby had leah’s exact smile, the smell of toast suddenly making you gag. it helps. to make it real on paper.

leah’s been reading. not obsessively, she knows how overwhelming it can get, but every now and then, you catch her scrolling quietly through articles on her phone and when you ask her what she’s found, she tells you softly, “you’re doing everything right.”

at eight weeks, the nausea peaks. 

your body feels like it’s in revolt some days. food aversions come out of nowhere, one morning you cry because your favourite cereal suddenly tastes like metal. leah doesn’t flinch. she kisses your forehead and brings you toast and a banana instead.

“you okay?” she asks, brushing your hair out of your face as you sit slumped on the bathroom floor once more. 

“not even a little,” you whisper, and she smiles, pulling you gently into her arms. “but we’re doing it.”

the fatigue is worse now too. afternoons blur into evenings without you realising, and sometimes you nap so deeply it’s like falling through water. but leah never makes you feel guilty. she just tucks a blanket over you and lies beside you, turning up the tv or reading aloud from whatever book she’s into, her voice steady and soft like waves against sand.

some nights, when you’re both still awake and the house is quiet, she talks to your stomach. not in a big way. not like a movie. just these soft, half-silly, half-sincere whispers; telling stories, sharing thoughts, asking questions like the baby could already hear her.

and it’s in those little moments, the in-between ones, that you realise: this is what growing looks like. slow. sacred. and full of love.

nine weeks arrives like breath on glass; close enough to see, not quite close enough to touch.

the days feel quieter now, though your body is louder than ever. nausea still clings to your mornings, sometimes your nights too. 

your emotions ride in strange, wild arcs. you cry at the sound of a baby laughing on the telly, then again when the post doesn’t come on time. you feel both ridiculous and entirely valid all at once.

leah doesn’t flinch. not once. she’s gentle with you, patient in ways that make your throat ache. she’s learned the exact right way to tie your hair back when you’re slumped over the sink. how to hold your hand when you’re just done for the day. how to make you laugh when you can’t see anything but grey.

she starts calling you “mama” sometimes, under her breath, like she’s talking to the baby but too sacred to say out loud just yet.

one night, at the end of week nine, you’re lying tangled together on the sofa, the telly flickering forgotten in the background, your head on her shoulder. she’s got one hand curled over your belly and the other resting on your thigh, and you can feel the rhythm of her breathing, steady and soft beneath your cheek.

“i keep thinking about what they’ll be,” she says. “like, what if they’re wild like you, or quiet like me? what if they’re both? what if they hate football?”

you laugh, exhausted but warm. “we’ll love them anyway. probably still make them wear a little arsenal kit though.”

she kisses your forehead and murmurs, “obviously.”

by ten weeks, there’s a quiet shift.

the nausea begins to fade, just enough to function. you’re still tired all the time, but some mornings are brighter now, you wake up without that heavy weight in your chest, without the dizzy ache behind your eyes.

you both know the next appointment is getting close. the 12-week mark hovers just ahead, a checkpoint you’ve been inching toward with cautious hope. it’s all still private, still tucked into the corners of your flat, the notes app on your phone, the soft drawer beside your bed where you’ve started to collect small, hopeful things. a book about names, a pair of tiny socks leah found and couldn’t leave behind.

your body feels different now, too. not obviously, not to anyone else but you know. you feel bloated constantly, so your jeans don’t quite button right anymore. your chest is sore in a way that makes even brushing your arm against it feel like punishment. and your stomach.. it’s still mostly soft, the same shape it always was, but there’s a new kind of weight to it. like your body’s holding a secret.

leah notices, of course. she always does.

“stand still,” she says one night, pulling you gently into the light of the bedroom lamp.

you’re wearing one of her t-shirts, oversized and stretched slightly at the middle now. she runs her palms over your stomach carefully, reverently, like she’s reading braille on your skin.

“turn to the side.”

you roll your eyes, but you do it. she crouches a little, squinting, then grins.

“there’s something there. tiny, but definitely something.”

“it’s probably just bloating,” you mumble, embarrassed.

she shakes her head, standing again. “nah. that’s our baby. starting to show off.”

you let her hold you like that for a while, her hands soft over your hips, your back tucked against her chest. you feel silly for how emotional it makes you — but she doesn’t tease. she never teases.

instead, she murmurs into your hair, “you’re doing such a good job.”

you spend more time in your little nest of a flat now. part of it is the exhaustion, ten weeks of growing a human has you completely undone by 3pm most days. but part of it is choice. safety. you’re still not ready to be in the outside yet,  the  world feels too big, too full of questions you’re not prepared to answer.

so you stay in. wrapped in soft blankets, living in oversized jumpers, binge-watching crime documentaries you’ve both seen before. leah makes a new habit of placing her hand over your stomach while you sit curled into her, like she’s trying to catch the baby doing something early.

“you think they can hear us yet?” she asks one morning, voice low and quiet.

you shake your head. “not for a few more weeks.”

“shame. i’d want them to know my voice.”

“they will,” you say, resting your hand over hers. “they’ll know it inside and out.”

you’re lying on the sofa, half-asleep on leah’s chest, the telly playing some old rerun neither of you are watching. her fingers are tracing lazy shapes over the curve of your stomach through your jumper.

"they're about the size of a strawberry now," you murmur, eyes still closed.

“all snug and round in there, floating about like a little bubble.”

you smile before you can stop yourself, the word ‘bubble’ fizzing quietly in your chest. it’s silly, but it fits. it fits the way your world’s shifted around this new centre. it fits the way you’ve started speaking in we instead of i. bubble feels like a word that holds wonder without pressure. soft edges. a bit of magic.

"bubble," you repeat, letting it settle on your tongue absentmindedly. 

leah leans down and presses a kiss to your temple. “little bubble,” 

after that, it sticks. bubble becomes the quiet name passed between you in sleepy morning whispers and warm belly rubs, in phone notes and food cravings. you start talking about “bubble’s room,” “bubble’s heartbeat,” “what bubble might be dreaming about.”

and somehow, bubble makes you feel less afraid. less like it’s unknown, more like excitement. 

week eleven is a blur, less of a milestone.

like the baby, like bubble, is curled up somewhere deeper than before, almost unreachable.

your symptoms haven’t disappeared, but they’ve shifted. morphed into something gentler. you’re still tired all the time, still weepy over weird things;  a charity advert, a kid’s drawing in the post office window, the sound of leah humming in the shower, but it feels more like… endurance now. like you’re running a long, steady race with your body instead of trying to survive it.

but it’s still hard to believe there’s a tiny person growing inside you.

“a person with a spine,” you whisper once, reading from the pregnancy app, your thumb grazing the little cartoon fruit illustration. “and fingers.”

leah’s lying beside you, arm tossed across your middle. “bubble’s got fingers?”

you nod, handing her your phone. “and toes.”

she holds it like it’s a sacred text, then presses her cheek against your bump. “well done, bubble. keep going.”

the lead-up to the 12-week scan has a strange weight to it. like you’ve been holding your breath since day fourteen, and now someone’s telling you: soon, you can exhale.

you get a call from the clinic on wednesday morning, polite, clipped tones, confirming your scan for the following week, walking you through what to expect.

“bring water,” the doctor says over the phone. “a full bladder helps us get a clearer picture.”

you hang up and relay the instructions to leah while she butters toast, explaining the details you had retained about meeting your midwife and things. she doesn’t respond right away, just quietly flips the kettle on.

“you okay?” you ask, watching her.

she nods too quickly. then pauses. then shrugs. “yeah. just, it’s a big one, isn’t it? twelve weeks.”

you move to her side, press your hand to her back. “yeah.”

“i keep thinking about what they’ll see,” she says, quieter now. “like, if bubble’s okay. if their heart’s still beating.”

you nod, stomach turning in that too-familiar way. “me too.”

she leans her forehead against yours, eyes shut. “i didn’t think i could be this scared and this happy at the same time.”

you let out a breath against her cheek. “same.”

you spend the rest of the week preparing in little ways, folding laundry, printing off your appointment letter, standing at the fridge and staring at the scan photo like it might offer you clues.

leah puts together a list in her notes app titled questions for the Scan (aka don’t forget to ask these). you peek over her shoulder and read things like:

still measuring okay?

any signs we should watch for??

can we hear the heartbeat again??

is bubble okay in there????

will they let us keep another print?

you don’t say anything. you just kiss her shoulder and whisper, “we’re gonna be okay.”

the night before the appointment, you both lie in bed and watch old football highlights on her laptop, the volume low. her hand rests over your bump. it’s almost second nature now.

"i want bubble to love football," she says dreamily. "but not like… feel pressured to."

you smile, eyes already heavy. “they can love it. or dance. or, like, insects.”

“bubble the entomologist,” she says, half-laughing. “we’ll support it.”

“big word for you,” you laugh, no matter what the scan shows, no matter how big the world starts to feel again tomorrow. right now, in this room, bubble is safe. and so are you.

the morning of the 12-week scan begins with soft light filtering in through the bedroom window. 

your alarm goes off just after half six, but you’re already awake, lying still in bed with one hand on your stomach. the duvet is warm, leah pressed up behind you, arm slung across your waist, breath slow against the back of your neck.

you stare at the ceiling for a while, trying to name the feeling swelling in your chest. it’s not quite fear, not quite excitement, just a kind of knowing. you’re about to see them again. bubble.

leah shifts as the alarm buzzes again, groaning softly before leaning up on one elbow. “today,” she murmurs, voice thick with sleep.

you nod, turning to face her. her eyes are puffy, hair a bit wild, but she’s grinning.

“you okay?” she asks, brushing her fingers over your cheek.

you nod again, but the breath you let out is shaky. she kisses your forehead and climbs out of bed, already mumbling something about toast and tea.

an hour later, you’re in the car, appointment letter folded neatly in your lap, leah’s hand resting on your thigh as she drives. the roads are quiet, mid-morning haze making everything feel softer. 

the nerves don’t really hit until you pull into the clinic parking lot and see the familiar sign. you sit in the car for a second, staring at the entrance.

“it’s gonna be okay,” leah says gently. 

“we’ve made it this far.”

you nod, but you still reach for her hand when you step out of the car.

you’ve been in this room before, weeks ago, when everything still felt delicate, when the screen showed more potential than shape. but now, it’s different. the lights are dim again, the air quiet, soft beeping from machines blending with the low hum of anticipation thrumming beneath your skin.

leah’s next to you, perched on the small chair by your side, thumb tracing slow circles over the back of your hand. she hasn’t let go of you since you walked in.

emily, today’s ultrasound tech, is all calm confidence and easy smiles. 

“you ready?” she asks, gel already in hand.

you nod, your shirt already tucked up beneath your chest, jeans slightly unbuttoned. 

the gel is cold. you flinch and laugh at the same time. leah squeezes your hand.

emily glances at the two of you. “if all goes well today, you’ll be able to see so much more than before. baby’s usually moving around quite a bit at this stage.”

“moving?” you ask, already breathless.

“yep. they’ve got limbs now,” she grins. “might even wave if we’re lucky.”

the machine whirs. the screen flickers.

and then,  there.

you can’t speak for a second. it’s too much. a real little person. head, arms, legs curled in just slightly, spine arched like a comma. nothing like the blur from before. they’re bigger now, somehow both tiny and huge.

you gasp softly, covering your mouth. leah shifts in her seat, leaning forward, eyes wide. “oh, wow…”

your own eyes are already wet. emily makes a few gentle adjustments, tapping keys, taking measurements. “heartbeat’s strong. looks beautiful.”

you glance at leah, and she’s staring not at the screen, but at you. watching the way you’ve gone completely still. the way your jaw trembles.

“do you want to know your estimated due date?” emily asks gently.

you nod.

“going off baby’s measurements today, i’d place you right around november 25th.”

leah breathes a quiet, amazed little laugh. “a scorpio baby.”

“or sagittarius,” you murmur back, still dazed.

emily turns the screen slightly and clicks a few more buttons. “we’ll print some pictures for you, of course. and based on how everything looks, you’ll be booked in for the next big scan around 20 weeks.”

you swallow thickly. “and everything looks okay?”

“it looks really good,” emily says without hesitation. “healthy. active. right where they should be.”

you nod, lips pressed together hard, trying not to cry too much. it’s all bubbling up. relief, joy, disbelief. you don’t think you’ve ever loved something you couldn’t touch quite this much before.

leah runs her fingers along your wrist, her voice low. “sorry, can i ask you something?”

emily pauses, waiting.

“we haven’t told anyone yet,” leah says softly. “we’ve been waiting. we just didn’t want to.. rush it. but now..” she trails off, looking at you. “do you think it’s okay to start telling people?”

emily’s expression softens. “a lot of people choose this milestone, 12 weeks, as the safe point. risks drop, baby’s developing well. of course there are no absolutes, but from what we’re seeing today? it’s looking really promising. if it feels right to you, then yes. now’s a good time.”

you feel something in your chest unclench. a long-held breath, finally exhaled. leah leans down, presses her lips to your temple.

“you hear that?” she whispers.

you nod, unable to speak.

after, you’re introduced to claire, your midwife going forward,and she feels like the kind of person you could talk to about anything. 

she’s older, warm-eyed, a cardigan over her scrubs. she pulls her chair close to the desk and opens a folder with your name on the front, already scribbled with dates and initials.

“you’re both doing so well,” she says after flipping through the paperwork. “and baby looks healthy. we’ll go over diet, appointments, what to expect next. but honestly, the most important thing you can do right now is keep looking after yourself. one day at a time.”

you and leah exchange a quiet smile.

after a friendly discussion, claire jots down your next appointment, circles the 20-week mark in pen. “we’ll see you again for the anatomy scan around this time, usually between 18 and 21. maybe before that for a few check-ins.”

she hands you a packet, more leaflets than you can count, and a little slip with her personal work number. “you’ve got me now,” she says. “any time you need something. seriously.” 

you tuck it all into your bag like it’s treasure.

the car feels warm from the little bit of sun, the windows slightly cracked, scan pictures clutched in leah’s hand like they’re sacred. neither of you are in a rush to drive yet, just sitting in that stillness. hearts full, the engine off, world outside blurred and quiet.

leah taps the corner of the photo strip against her thigh. “they look like a little gummy bear,” she says, grinning.

“a really cute gummy bear,” you reply, still dazed, leaning your head back against the seat. “with stumpy legs and a big head.”

“bubble the gummy bear,” she muses. “trademark pending.”

you laugh, then wipe at your eyes again, even though the tears aren’t really sad ones. just full ones. bright and aching and everything all at once.

there’s a pause. the kind that feels like breathing space. then leah says, softly, “we’re in the second trimester now, aren’t we?”

you blink at her. “are we?”

“almost,” she nods, lifting her phone and pulling up a pregnancy tracker app she’s secretly had downloaded for weeks. she tilts the screen toward you. “says here week 13 marks the start. and we’re basically there.”

“oh my god,” you breathe.

“i know.”

there’s a silence then, big and gentle, before leah speaks again.

“i think.. i want to tell people.”

you turn to look at her. she’s already watching you.

“you think?” you whisper.

“i do,” she says, voice catching slightly. “i know we’ve been so careful. so scared to jinx it. but bubble’s measuring perfectly, your body’s doing exactly what it needs to, and..  god, i just want everyone to know how proud i am of you. of this. of bubble.”

your eyes sting all over again. you blink fast. “you’re gonna make me cry again.”

“you’ve been crying all day.”

“you’ve been crying all day.”

“okay,” she laughs, breathless and warm. “we’ve both been crying all day.”

you both sit there for another minute, just letting it wash over you. the day, the words, the tiny gummy bear bubble inside you that has suddenly made the world feel huge and sharp and entirely new.

leah turns in her seat to face you properly, hand curling over yours on the middle console. her voice is quieter this time. steadier.

“now,” she says, smiling through it, “we have some news to tell some very important people.”

and your heart stutters in the best way possible. because you do, and you’re ready. 

[nbeealex]

I hate that people keep writing Agatha as the older of the two, because of the actors ages (shes 51 guys, stop writing her character as some old lady who feels unsexy and tired. Agatha and Kathryn both serve cunt and they know how fucking hot they are. Also Aubrey is 40 thats genuinely not that big of an age gap after you hit 30)

Like guys

Rio is a primordial being as old as life itself. Agatha is like only just past her 4th century. If anyone's the coger, cradle snatcher milf is most certainly Rio.

Give me more, young dumb and full of come Agatha! More curious intrigued playful Agatha! Let that woman be gay horny and way too full of life!

[natswife-marvelicious]

Not so common Premiere Reveal

Plot: The rumor mill has been churning for weeks. What if Scarlett doesn't walk the red carpet alone shortly afterwards for the big "Jurassic World" premiere, but with someone the world has yet to see?

Warnings: none

Word count: 2,3k

Masterlist

The sky over Los Angeles was painted with hues of pink and orange as the sun set, casting a warm glow over the world premiere of 'Jurassic World: Dominion'. It was the biggest event of the year, a red-carpet spectacle drawing stars, fans, and media outlets from around the globe. The premiere had everything you’d expect: dinosaurs, Hollywood icons, and endless flashes of cameras. But tonight, there was one name on everyone’s lips, Scarlett Johansson.

For months, rumors had swirled about her personal life, only escalating after her year-long silence following her high-profile split from Colin Jost. Scarlett had famously guarded her privacy throughout her career, carefully choosing when and where she would appear in public.

Lately, however, the media had latched onto the mystery woman photographed with her. The paparazzi shots, taken from afar, showed the two in casual moments: dining together, walking through the park, and sharing soft, intimate glances. The internet had exploded with speculation, and fans worldwide had dissected every angle of the story. Yet Scarlett remained silent, fueling the mystery even further.

Now, at the premiere of one of the most anticipated movies of the year, the world waited to see if she would address the rumors. There had been no official statement from Scarlett, no interviews, no social media posts. The only thing people knew was that Scarlett Johansson was set to arrive on the red carpet tonight.

The atmosphere outside the theater was electric. Hundreds of fans lined the barricades, holding signs and chanting her name. Reporters from every major outlet stood ready with microphones and cameras, hoping for an exclusive scoop. Photographers jostled for position, desperate for the first shot of Scarlett as her limousine pulled up to the curb.

The door of the sleek black limo swung open, and there she was, Scarlett Johansson. She emerged with effortless grace, her long, shimmering black gown hugging her figure. The material sparkled as she moved, catching the lights of the paparazzi cameras, and her blonde hair was styled in loose waves, falling perfectly over her shoulders.

As soon as she stepped onto the red carpet, the crowd erupted into cheers and shouts. “Scarlett! Over here! Scarlett!”

But something was different tonight. Scarlett paused for a moment, scanning the crowd with a soft smile, before stepping aside slightly, her hand reaching back toward the limo. Another figure emerged, and this time, the gasps from the crowd were audible.

It was a beautiful and slightly younger girl, y/n.

You stepped out, looking stunning in an emerald-green gown that flowed elegantly as you moved. Your hair was pulled back into a sleek bun, your expression one of both awe and nerves. This was your first time in the spotlight, and the cameras immediately began clicking, capturing the moment the world had been waiting for.

Scarlett smiled at you, her hand slipping yours hers with a reassuring squeeze and suddenly, the rumors were confirmed. Scarlett Johansson wasn’t just attending the premiere tonight, she was making her relationship with you public for the first time.

As you walked side by side onto the red carpet, the world seemed to freeze for a moment. The flashes of cameras intensified, creating a wall of light that surrounded you. The noise was deafening. Fans screaming Scarlett’s name, photographers shouting for their attention, reporters trying to get in a quick question. But amidst the chaos, Scarlett remained calm, her hand never leaving yours.

“Stay close,” Scarlett whispered to you as you moved forward. She could feel the nervous energy radiating from you, but her presence was grounding. You looked over at Scarlett, offering a small appreciative smile. This wasn’t your world. You had spent most of your life away from the glare of fame, but tonight you were diving headfirst into it.

As you walked, Scarlett paused every few steps to wave to the fans, their cheers growing louder every time she acknowledged them. But it wasn’t just her they were cheering for. Scarlett was a beloved figure, adored for both her talent and her down-to-earth nature, but tonight the fans seemed just as excited to see you beside her.

The moment was already going viral. Social media was exploding with real-time reactions, pictures flooding Instagram and Twitter within seconds of you stepping onto the carpet. The hashtags #ScarlettandY/N, #ScarlettNewLove, and #ScarlettPremiere were trending worldwide.

You reached the center of the red carpet, where you were to pose for official photos. Scarlett turned to you, her eyes warm and reassuring. “You’re doing great,” she whispered. You nodded, trying to steady your breathing. You weren't used to this kind of attention, thousands of eyes watching you every move, every glance. But with Scarlett beside you, you felt grounded.

The cameras captured every moment, the way Scarlett kept a protective hand on your waist, how you exchanged soft, knowing glances, the slight but affectionate touches between you. You were nervous, but you also felt a quiet confidence in Scarlett’s presence, as if you could get through this as long as you two were together.

After the photos, Scarlett guided you toward the row of interviewers waiting for their chance to talk to the couple. Both of you were greeted by a reporter from 'Entertainment Tonight', her excitement barely contained.

“Scarlett! You look absolutely incredible tonight, as always. And y/n, welcome! It’s so great to see you both here.”

Scarlett smiled warmly, her hand never leaving yours. “Thank you. It’s good to be here,” you said, your voice steady despite the madness around you.

The reporter, clearly hoping to dig into the heart of the night, quickly moved on to the question everyone was dying to ask. “Scarlett, you’ve always been very private about your personal life, and yet here you are, at the premiere of one of the biggest movies of the year, with y/n. Can you tell us a little more about your relationship?”

Scarlett looked at you, a soft, affectionate smile playing on her lips. The crowd behind the barricades was silent, waiting with bated breath for her answer. “Yes, I can,” Scarlett said, her tone gentle but firm. “Y/n and I have been together for a while now. She’s... someone very special to me.”

You blushed at Scarlett’s words, your smile growing despite the attention. The reporter’s eyes gleamed with excitement, knowing she had just gotten the quote that would make headlines around the world.

“Y/n,” the reporter said, turning to you, “this must be overwhelming for you. How are you feeling, being here tonight in the spotlight?”

You glanced at Scarlett, a little unsure but clearly trying your best to navigate the newness of it all. “It’s... a lot,” you admitted with a soft laugh. “But Scarlett’s been really great. She’s been helping me through it.”

Scarlett smiled proudly, leaning in to kiss your temple, her affection so clear and unguarded. The cameras flashed wildly, capturing the tender moment between them. Fans on social media were already losing their minds, the images of Scarlett and y/n together spreading like wildfire.

They moved down the line of interviewers, answering questions about the movie, Scarlett’s role, and the technical aspects of 'Jurassic World'. But inevitably, the questions kept circling back to them as a couple. Each time Scarlett was asked about you, she answered with calm confidence, and her eyes always gleamed with affection.

“Scarlett, what made you decide to go public with your relationship tonight?” a reporter from 'Variety' asked, microphone poised.

Scarlett paused, her hand still on yours. “I’ve always valued my privacy,” she began, the weight of her words carefully measured, “and that hasn’t changed. But this, what you see here, is important to me. Y/n is important to me, and I wanted to share that, in my own way. We’ve been together for a while, and at some point, it felt... right not to hide it. We’re happy.”

Y/n looked over at Scarlett, her smile soft but full of emotion. The nerves she had felt earlier were melting away, replaced by a sense of belonging, belonging beside Scarlett, and being embraced by the world, even if in an unfamiliar and overwhelming way.

A follow-up question came almost instantly, this time from a reporter with 'E! News': "Y/n, how has this experience been for you? Being in the public eye like this?”

You hesitated briefly, clearly still adjusting to the media frenzy. “It’s... definitely new,” you admitted, laughing lightly, “but I have Scarlett by my side, so it feels... easier than it might otherwise.”

Scarlett’s hand squeezed yours gently, that soft touch anchoring you both in the chaos. There was something special about the way you two interacted, so natural, as if you had always belonged together. The media might have been focused on the two of you, but for Scarlett and y/n, they were only focused on each other.

The interviews continued, with more questions about the film, Scarlett’s portrayal of her character, and her future projects. But each time they tried to steer away from the personal, the audience could sense the undercurrent of interest, a curiosity about this new chapter in Scarlett's life. Every camera flash, every whispered comment, was about her relationship with you.

The energy on the red carpet was palpable. Fans outside continued chanting, hoping for a glimpse of the couple. Scarlett waved again, this time pulling your hand up so the crowd could see it clearly, you were here together, no hiding, no secrets. The crowd’s roar intensified, echoing around the street, and you felt a slight rush of adrenaline. You weren't used to the public adoration, but something about this moment felt incredibly freeing.

The two of you eventually made their way inside the theater, where the excitement of the night finally began to settle. Once you were away from the flashing lights and endless interviews, you let out a slow breath.

“Are you okay?” Scarlett asked softly, her thumb brushing your hand as you walked together through the foyer.

You smiled, leaning in closer. “I think I am,” you said with a soft laugh. “I just wasn’t expecting... all of that.”

Scarlett laughed, her voice warm and gentle. “You handled it like a pro,” she teased. “Honestly, I’m so proud of you.”

You found your seats, surrounded by the rest of the cast and crew, and you took a moment to appreciate the quiet intimacy of sitting beside Scarlett after such a public spectacle. You could feel the weight of the day start to lift as the film's opening scene began to play.

The roar of the dinosaurs on screen seemed to echo the roar of the outside world, but within the theater, it was as if Scarlett and you existed in your own private bubble. Scarlett’s hand rested on your knee beneath the armrest, a small but constant reminder of her presence. For you, this moment wasn't about the movie or the premiere, it was about being part of Scarlett’s life in a way you hadn’t before.

As the movie progressed, you stole glances at Scarlett, watching her reactions to key scenes. You admired Scarlett’s confidence, her strength, and the way she seemed to navigate the complexities of fame with such grace. But more than that, you admired her for how open she had been tonight, how unafraid she was to show the world exactly who she loved.

After the film ended, the audience erupted into applause, and Scarlett turned to you with a wide smile. “What did you think?”

You beamed, your eyes sparkling. “You were incredible,” you whispered back, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Scarlett’s cheek.

You lingered for a few more moments inside the theater, mingling with other celebrities and industry figures, but soon it was time to leave. The thought of facing the media again, even if briefly, caused a flicker of nerves in your chest, but Scarlett was right beside you.

As you stepped out onto the street, the flashing cameras began again, though this time they seemed less overwhelming. You held your head a little higher, your hand never leaving Scarlett’s. The premiere had been a whirlwind, but it had also been a defining moment for you two as a couple.

By the time you reached the limo, the media frenzy was still in full force. Scarlett paused just before stepping into the car, turning to face the cameras one last time. She glanced at you, her expression filled with nothing but love, and then turned back to the crowd, her voice strong but sincere as she said, “Thank you all for coming tonight.”

As the car door closed behind them, you let out a soft sigh of relief. Scarlett chuckled, reaching over to take your hand again. “We made it,” she teased.

You laughed, leaning into Scarlett’s side. “I can’t believe we did that.”

Scarlett’s eyes softened, and she brushed a strand of hair away from your face. “I’m so glad we did,” she murmured. “I’m glad everyone knows. I’m glad I can finally show the world how much you mean to me.”

Your heart fluttered at her words. “You’re not worried about what they’ll say?”

Scarlett shook her head, a small smile playing at her lips. “They’ll say what they want, like they always do. But at the end of the day, what matters is us. I’ve never been more certain of that.”

Your eyes welled with emotion as you nodded, feeling the truth of Scarlett’s words settle deep within you. “I love you,” you whispered softly, the words almost lost in the gentle hum of the limo.

Scarlett’s smile widened, her eyes sparkling with warmth. “I love you too,” she whispered back, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips.

The world outside was still buzzing with excitement, but inside that limo, it was just the two of you. It didn’t matter what the tabloids would write tomorrow, or how many photos would circulate on social media. All that mattered was this, the love you had, the bond you shared, and the fact that, from now on, you were facing it together, hand in hand.

And for the first time, you felt like you truly belonged.

Sooo that's my first Scarlett x reader fanfic!! I like it :)

Oh and I really love Colin and Scarlett together, i have nothing against him (despite the fact he stole my wife). But I love seeing her happy and being with a man who truly loves her. It just fitted the story!

[tansyuduri]

All Your Secrets Is up!

It took all his years of training to channel his mind to tactics no matter what happened, to manage to think about the fact that they would be faster getting to Gaius if they did not exhaust the horses. It took everything he was to give the order for it. The war inside him, in the end, was won by his hope Merlin would survive if they could just get to Gaius sooner, rather than his despair at what could happen. 

If Merlin got worse and started to die, Arthur would have to make sure he got to him because he would not fail Merlin again. He would be there to comfort him in his last moments. He just would never recover afterward.

As he held Merlin securely before him, Arthur used his hand to tilt his head to the side and lay it on his shoulder, facing his neck. Hopefully, this way, it would not bob all around with the moment of the horse. A light sheen of sweat already covered Merlin's skin, a sign of a slowly building fever.

Arthur took the chance as the others mounted to whisper, “I love you,” to Merlin. “I should have told you before… I’m telling you now, so just… hold on, will you? Follow my order for once.”

He didn’t know if Merlin had heard him. He didn’t know what else to say.  He kicked his horse into a gallop, followed by the knights.

They had only ridden a short time, with Arthur becoming increasingly aware of how hot Merlin was growing when Merlin suddenly called out, “Arthur!?” happily.

“I’m here! Merlin, I'm here!” Arthur brought his horse to a halt and shifted Merlin so he could see his face. Merlin's eyes were still closed. What was-

“NO, Arthur!” Merlin called again. This time, he sounded devastated.

Arthur realized, to his horror, that Merlin was lost to some delirious fever dream. “Merlin!?”

“He’ll hate me,” Merlin's lips parted and whispered. His voice was despondent, terrified.

“What's going on!?” Gwaine asked from beside him. “His eyes are still closed..”

Merlin continued. “Arthur, please don’t hate me…” 

 “I think he's seeing me in some dream. He has a bit of a fever.” Arthur told the knights, who had also come to a stop. “I don’t hate you,” he told Merlin desperately despite knowing he couldn't hear him. “I can’t hate you… “ 

“We need to get to Gaius,” Leon said. “Fever so soon is not a good sign.” Arthur did not hesitate and kicked his horse back into a gallop.

Read It Here

[addthespaghetti]

the fanfiction community has this thing with writing fics that is sa and passing it off as normal. if a person says no, pushes your hand away, and you still continue to do what they said no to its assault. fiction or not it is beyond heinous to touch someone without thier consent or for fictional characters to touch someone without their consent.

i would like to add, i’m not talking about kinks like cnc, especially when it is in the warning. i am talking about the fics that have no warnings and after the mc says no they continue to do their assault. i will never kink shame unless it is something that deserves to be shamed.

[nana78sworld]

Have you ever had content to read after a fanfic marathon? It's always like that, I have a binge to read and then, I just run out of inspiration ✨✨✨✨✨

[r0tt3n-ruzt]

Fratricide

c!crimeboys angst fic where Wilbur loses his mind and attempts a murder suicide with tommy. also a pinch of bedrock boys and clingy duo. hurt a little bit of comfort if you look at it from an angle. might be a bit ooc.

REBLOGS ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED!!

TRIGGER WARNINGS: attempted murder, physical abuse, implied sh, suicidal ideations, suicide attempt?, guns

It was late at night; this always happens late. When he had nothing to do, nothing else to think about. At first Tommy could handle it at first it was only once in a while but as time went on hope for a better future slowly left Wilbur. It wasn't too obvious when it had started happening but clear signs of Wilbur working himself more and more in desperation to find something, anything, to give him hope. More and more Wilbur had changed to slowly become a shell of himself Tommy could barely recognize. If it wasn't for his face staying the same, he'd probably mistake him for a stranger, or maybe he would know it was him.

But this wasn't the Wilbur tommy knew this wasn't the man the boy had looked up to as a leader. Not just because of his change of clothes but how his strong high held dignity and personality crumbled week after week as they spent their lives rotting away in a dusty cave. They didn't sit there but it seemed just as effective as sitting down and letting the earth take them. At least that's what Wilbur said, what Wilbur always said.  What he always said when the late hours left him with either no work or no energy to finish it. When he had time to sit and pity himself for the man he'd become and for all that he lost.

Tommy tried to keep positive about this, he tried hard to keep hope, he was stubborn, maybe too much for his own good. He kept talking and talking about his hope until he sounded like a broken record playing on loop until someone manually stopped it. He didn't know if he was doing it out of desperation or genuinely believing whatever words came out of his mouth anymore, he couldn't recognize it, he knew the feeling all too well but had too much pride to let himself realize it slowly consumed him day by day, he wouldn't let himself be vulnerable no not at a time like this.

So, when he saw Wilbur again talking to himself in the dingy cave he called a room he took only a second before walking in. he didn't know what he'd say he didn't know what he'd do he just went in, it was better to think later then overthink it now. Wilbur turned his head to look at Tommy, he knew Wilbur well, he was proud of it, he read him well so he thought, but this was a time he couldn't, a time where Wilbur seemed to be unreadable. Dark eyes staring into Tommy's blues, they were slightly wide, the man seemed maybe shocked to see the boy but it quickly went away as he got up walking to tommy.

Rough hands gripped Tommy's shoulders, he looked up at the other who stared down at him looking like he was hesitating to say something. “Tommy… Tommy I need to talk to you” without waiting for an answer Wilbur put a hand on Tommy's back pushing him further into his room. Tommy opened his mouth to speak but was immediately interrupted by Wilbur whose demeanor seemed to change in mere seconds. Going from seemingly calm to now having shaking hands holding a death grip on the poor boy.

“Wilbur what the fuck is this, get your hands off of me!” Tommy yelled slightly, he felt slightly scared he'd never seen Wilbur like this before, he knew him for so long yet never once had he seen Wilbur this bad. Tommy tried to pull away which only earned him a tighter grip holding him in place. Wilbur got onto one knee to level with Tommy staring him eye to eye. “Just listen to me, Tommy just listen, you trust me, right? You trust me, you're my right-hand man tommy, so you trust me "Wilbur's shaky breath reeked of cigarettes, a horrid smell that made tommy’s nose wrinkle up.

Harsh fingers digging into Tommy's skin distracted him from answering for a second, they were definitely going to leave a bruise. “Yea yea I trust you Wilbur now what the fuck is your problem. You're freaking me out mate” a hand quickly went to grasp Wilbur’s arm trying to pry him away, the man winced in response and pulled his arm away letting go of Tommy's poor shoulder, the other hand still gripping on but not as tightly. “T-tommy, tommy do you want to die with me?” Tommy's heart dropped when he heard those words, in all his life he'd never expected to be told anything close to this but here he was with Wilbur smiling at him while saying it.

It was a soft smile, it looked like Wilbur was trying to comfort Tommy about the idea but it backfired heavily. The boy's breathing increased rapidly and he backed away slightly from the man “no, Wilbur are you joking with me?! Tell me you’re fucking joking” “I’m not tommy, I’m not there’s nothing left for us here, listen to me tommy” Wilbur grabbed tommy’s wrists holding them front of himself, a tight grip on them maybe a bit worse than how his grip on his shoulder were, he needed him to stay close. “You and me, in here, dead with the gun, we have nothing left Tommy, you'll see Tubbo! Think about that, he's not going to make it Tommy, well see him on the other side it's okay, Tommy we have nothing we lost "

Tommy pulled at his arms trying so very hard to get away from the man who was clearly deep into some kind of mania. He couldn't believe what he was hearing, he couldn't believe who he was hearing this from. “Wilbur you’re fucking insane let go of me!” “Come on Tommy we lost; you know this. We can't get l’manburg back, we can't live like this, it's our only option, you'll be happy tommy, we'll both be happy.” no no no this couldn't be true, could it? No way Wilbur was talking like this, he was their leader so why was he the one so quick to give up.

They could fight, they always fought, it was all they'd known, so why can't they anymore. Tommy knew they couldn't speak with Schlatt to try to persuade him, he knew the man as well as he needed to. Schlatt was a simple man defined by simple things. Yet, he was as evil as he was simple, he had it in the marrow of his bones rooted from the cavity he called his head. There was no talking with this man, at least none that could end in a fair or moral deal. So, they had to fight, they just had to.

There was no other option for Tommy, he needed to fight, he'd fought again and again and again and he was ready to do it again to keep what he fought for. He wasn't just about to give up all he knew for one simple set back. “Wilbur were not going to fucking kill ourselves we can do this! It isn't our only option; our only option is winning! We've fought before so why is it any different now? "Tommy pushed Wilbur away, freeing his hands from the other's grasp. Wilbur just stared down at Tommy, he didn't have an answer yet he seemed dead set on his idea of going the coward’s way out.

Maybe he did have an answer and was just holding it from Tommy, maybe for better or for worse. “Wilbur please just calm the fuck down this isn’t-... I don’t... I don't want to die Wilbur! I'm not going to die and you aren't either!” Yet Wilbur stood there, staring down at tommy. His breathing was rapid and short each breath seeming rushed. The room was quiet with the two staring at each other both trying to decide what to do, then one got an idea. Wilbur’s face lit up and he walked towards Tommy, who promptly walked away cornering himself.

“Here tommy look” the other spoke softly, his voice shaky and unsure. Wilbur opened his coat, reaching in and pulling out a handgun. It was an old one, but worked just as well as a new one. A hand harshly grabbed Tommy by the hair pulling him closer, the barrel of the gun held too close for comfort to Tommy's chin. “Look tommy you me here and now, okay? Its-... it's going to be okay it’s all going to be okay it’s just a second just calm down this is for the both of us tommy”. The gun's cold metal was pressed against Tommy's chin, he was screaming and crying at this point, swearing Wilbur out begging him to knock this off.

He tried to push the gun away from himself as Wilbur continued talking sweetly to the boy trying to reassure him that this was for the best. This was what they needed, he said over and over again. “Wilbur! Let me go! You’re fucking crazy! I don’t want to die Wilbur please fucking stop!” Tommy cried, he didn't want this, this wasn't the Wilbur he knew this couldn't be him, he wanted to leave so very badly. He should have left Wilbur to rot in his own self-pity, leave him for the night, let him do whatever he wanted just as long as he wasn't dragged into it.

Tears started to form in his eyes as he fought back against Wilbur who was trying hard to keep the gun in the right angle. As they fought, footsteps approached them before a voice was heard behind them at the door way. “Heh!?” Wilbur’s head snapped around looking at whoever it was, his attention to Tommy dropping instantly, letting the boy get a chance at escaping his grasp. Technoblade stood at the doorway staring in at the two.

A sword held tightly in his hand, ready to attack at any moment. When he saw the gun in Wilbur’s hand aimed at Tommy, he didn't take much time to grab the man prying it away from him. Wilbur didn't put up much of a fight against techno, losing very quickly. “What the hell is going on here?” techno yelled looking back at Tommy who looked petrified to say the least. “He was trying to fucking kill me!” the boy yelled pointing at Wilbur who stood on the other side of techno leaning on whatever ‘furniture’ they had, he looked as if he'd fall over at any moment, yet he stared wide eyed at the two of them his gaze mostly falling on tommy who was then blocked by techno.

 Tommy wasn't on the best terms with techno, after what had happened in Manburg with Tubbo he felt a feeling of distrust for the man. “Leave it in the pit” he was told, but he couldn't, yet in a moment like this when before he almost loathed seeing techno at times he was glad he was here. He hated it at the same time though, he hated he had to be saved from someone he called his own brother. It sat sour in his throat, which was dry from screaming, he hated feeling so vulnerable, he hated being scared, he hated that he cried and screamed for help.

He was big man Tommyinnit so why did he have to be so fucking scared of Wilbur, of a man who could barely keep himself up. A dirty unforgiving mess of skin and bones he should have taken the man down with ease yet he couldn't. He was scared, too scared. Scared of hurting Wilbur, scared of being hurt, scared of Wilbur. He shouldn't have been not even in a sense of bravery. Wilbur was his leader, his brother, he was his right-hand man and has been through thick and thin. Why did it have to be him was all Tommy could think, it clouded his head and for a bit made him ignore what the others were saying.

Everything happened so fast he didn't even know how to process it all. “Tommy!” techno yelled gaining Tommy's attention once again, he reminded himself to keep his composer and looked at techno. “You need to leave tommy I’m going to have a talk with Wilbur” tommy took one last glance at Wilbur before hesitantly booking it for the door running away. He didn't want to be there anymore, not when his own brother was trying to kill him. He ran to where Tubbo was. The boy laid asleep in his bed bandages covering most of his face and body, it was a sickening sight but Tubbo was all Tommy wanted to see.

He remembered what Wilbur said before, it couldn't have been true right? Tubbo was going to make it out there just fine. He slowly got down lying next to him, he wasn't going to sleep that night, he knew that well enough, he couldn't help but look around the room constantly in case Wilbur came back. “Bullshit” he told himself “This is all bullshit” he couldn't believe any of this. He just wanted to be happy with Wilbur. All he wanted was to be happy. Maybe one day he'd get there, one day soon he hoped.

That he’d live to see a day he didn't have to fight anymore, a day he could learn to live with peace. It wasn't something easy to imagine, fighting was all he'd known but maybe one day. He smiled slightly, staring at the ceiling thinking about all these silly ideas. 

[justalittlelilac]

Deciding what POV to continue with my Baxter x Reader story :D

[buffybummerz]

Help me Decide on another Solavellan AU!

[gaiathewildanimal]

Was just thinking of making a new Caine x Pomni Showtime Fanfiction after Showtime Bunny Life. To be honest I’m not sure if I wanna do this next but I kind of feel like I should finish the other sequels first. But anyways this is a sequel to The Digital Stars Fanfiction I will be working on. I will came it Digital Stars The Sequel. Here’s the photo edit for the Showtime fanfiction! ✨🥰 however I will mainly be focusing on Showtime Bunny Life and the Sequels such as Showtime Bunny Life The Anime and Bunnydoll Bunny Life witch is the Jax x Ragatha one…

PS: This AU is a Beastars parody and will mainly focus on Caine and his coded instincts and obsessions with not being able to control his instincts and energy around the jester he has a crush on Pomni…

Also here is Pomnis design as well also all the characters in this au will wear the same outfit except for Pomni since I want to make this fanfiction nice and simple.

[mercurycft]

𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐑 — 𝐀𝐖𝐅𝐂

## reader x awfc !!

hi all!! finally releasing this, which is in honour of jonas finally pissing off away from our girls and our team! i hope you enjoy! love always, RGx

warnings: angsty team x management arguments, mentions of mental health!

3.6k words.

“i’m sure the team will be buzzing with joy this evening after tonight’s win, but how are the girls and yourself taking the recent and surprising departure of a lifelong gunner?”

“yeah, as you said we’re all pleased with the result tonight - it was a great match with a good side and i think the score reflects the determination we took onto the pitch with us.” you watch as beth pauses, like she is searching for words that will do her feelings justice. “she was the best of us, not just the team but the best of us and our friends. i think she was and is destined for great things, but life and people unfortunately happened to get in the way. but i’m happy, we’re all, happy for her.”

you've known beth long enough to know when she is lying and it pains you to realise how the tone of her voice drops at the mention of you. it stings momentarily, but you shake it off and allow pride to take over you as the camera pans to the rest of the team taking their victory lap.

you find yourself smiling absentmindedly at your phone, having sat through the entire match with your eyes glued to your phone - watching your girls on the pitch from your home, instead of beside them for the first time in years. your stomach filled with a cocktail of emotions that you can’t seem to process at this very moment. a toxic mixture of sadness and despair, twisted and twined with anger and hatred for what the situation had become.

its been two weeks since your statement went out, three since you made the decision and four since the argument. in an ideal world, it wouldn’t have gone this way - you would’ve stomached your feelings for longer and swallowed your bubbling anger, bit your tongue and carried on as usual. but for some reason, you just couldn’t.

------

1 month ago.

a 3-0 win should be celebrated. it should fill you with joy and overwhelming excitement - but it doesn't. instead, it fills you with nothing but anger and resentment for the club you once loved, you used to love. in place of congratulations and pats on the back, is a lecture. a plethora of critiques and corrections despite the effort and conviction everyone had shown.

you and the rest of the girls stand huddled in a group in the locker room, stood in an agonising silence. your hair is still wet, from the sickly british rain that decided to visit, your face still tinted red and your chest still heaving.

you tune out to jonas' voice, watching absentmindedly as he paces ahead of the group - volume above his usual decibel as he tears into the group, pushing further and further. you don't listen, allowing your mind to wander. no one dares talk back, instead choosing to take his words. you, however, fail to be as nonchalant as them - swallowing the bubble of anger in your throat and biting your tongue to the best of your ability.

your mind is brought back into the tiled room at the snap of your name from the front of the group. you look up to be met with jonas' eyes on you - his eyebrows raised and seemingly awaiting an answer. "what?" you mumble through gritted teeth, eyes locked on his.

"do you care to fill the rest of us in on what is so important besides my feedback right now?"

you shake your head, matched with a sarcastic looking, sickly-sweet smile and lift your hand top gesture towards him. "oh please, carry on."

"i dont appreciate your attitude," he quips back, screwing his facial features together, feining disgust.

"whatever," you scoff, rolling your eyes and peeling yourself away from the bodies beside you - now overly aware of their eyes on you.

"i'm out." pause. "i'm going to leave, and have a glass of wine and celebrate a fucking win." you turn away from them, too busy to take off your kit and instead scrunching your clothes and belongings into your kit bag. "which by the way, is what we should all be doing! instead of standing here taking shit because he didn't like how we were moving on the pitch!"

there was a shift from him, and a deep red tint crept up his neck as he shot daggers at you from across the tiles. “i do everything for this team! maybe once in a while, it would be nice for you to do the same if you think you know better! please, do tell us, what makes you think you have done anything of significance for this team? for arsenal!”

it changed, then. the small shred of sympathy you had, the small shred of guilt - gone. ripped from inside you and splattered across the walls of your home stadium locker room. the girls around you seemed shocked at his words, confused and unsure of what to expect next.

you paused. taking a deep breath and halting your shoving of clothes and shoes into your bag, and turning to face him directly through the sea of red and white kits in front of you.

“what do i do, for this team?” the question sounded almost broken, like you couldn’t actually believe he was playing this card. you searched for the answer deep within yourself for a few seconds, allowing the hurt to build in your throat and fuel the fire burning deep behind your eyes and in the pit of your stomach. your eyes flicked over each of the faces now looking at you and a small smile teased at the corners of your lips as you looked at their concerned expressions.

after a few more moments of silence, you inhaled deeply and began. “i’ve given my life, to this club. to this team. i put in the work, i trained day and night in the academy, until i was enough for the senior team. and when i made it here, i made a difference. i stepped up when kim was out, when leah was out. when laura first moved here, i took her in.” you paused, taking another shaky breath, cautious of the tears held back by nothing more than your water line. “i don’t expect you to give a shit. but whilst you were too busy tearing this team down. katie for her aggression, kim for her captaining style, leah for her rehabilitation, viv for her performance, beth for her drive, lia for training hours and every other fucking player in this building. i was building them back up, i was trying to make this right.”

silence fell over the room, and you shook your head. “im done.” you all but whispered, slinging your bag over your shoulder and moving towards the large doors leading away from the locker room. “i can’t do this anymore, this club is my home - and i will not watch you tear it down.” you shoved the door, a single teare slipping down your cheek the second you heard the door swing back on its latch and close again. you didn't stop to say goodbye to the familiar faces in the building, instead, with your head down and focused on the floor beneath you - you walked straight into the carpark, got into your car and drove home.

as you drove away, the weight of your decision settled in your chest. you couldn't believe it had come to this, that you had walked away from the team you had poured your heart and soul into. all the emotions you had been burying for weeks and weeks on end were now uncontrollable, tears streaming as you contemplated your actions but you knew you couldn't bear to stay in an environment where your efforts were belittled and unappreciated.

after a 40 minute drive, you found solace and refuge in the familiar walls of your apartment. the silence enveloped you as you sank onto the sofa, reaching for your phone. you hestitated in pulling it out of your bag, unsure of what may be waiting for you when you unlock it.

but still, you did, heaving a deep breath when your screen lit up with a message from beth. her words expressing concern and confusion about what had transpired in the locker room. as you read beth's message, a mix of emotions washed over you - relief that someone cared enough to reach out, but also a pang of guilt for leaving without saying a proper goodbye. to her, to any of the girls in the room. you quickly typed out a response, skipping over the details of your motives - instead opting for a light hearted message, apologising for your abrupt exit and apologising for not controlling your temper.

minutes turned into hours as you sat there, staring at your phone, the weight of your actions heavy on your shoulders. you hadn’t moved, still sat in your jacket and kit, boots still tied to your feet. the sound of a familiar notification pinged through the room - like it had been doing on repeat since that first message from beth, and you saw more messages popping up from your now ex-teammates.

------

1 week later - 3 weeks ago.

the days blurred into a week as you settled into a routine without the training sessions, team meetings, and the constant thoughts of upcoming matches that used to consume your time. you found freedom in the quiet moments alone, the weight of expectation now lifted off your shoulders, a sense of liberation starting to bloom within you. you finally felt like a person, not just a player.

you had been speaking to the girls everyday, each of them keeping you up to date on life behind the scenes of the club. the drama and tension seemed to have escalated in your absence, with rumors swirling about disputes between jonas and some of the other players. your decision to leave had sent shockwaves through the team, but it also seemed to have sparked a newfound sense of unity among everyone.

it was a miserable london evening when you got your first unexpected visit, darkness just creeping across the clouds when a knock at the door interrupted your law and order binge.

to your surprise, standing on your doorstep was leah, with a hesitant smile on her face.

a flood of questions and uncertainties raced through your mind as you stood frozen in the doorway, unsure of what to say or how to react to her unexpected visit.

"hey," leah began, her voice soft yet laced with underlying tension. "uh, can I come in?"

you hesitated for a moment, the inner turmoil evident on your face as you considered whether to welcome her inside. finally, you stepped back, wordlessly opening the door wider to allow her entry. leah entered cautiously, taking in the familiar surroundings of your apartment with a mix of nostalgia and apprehension.

there was a palpable tension in the air as you both stood in the living room, the silence stretching between you like a taut wire. you shared the quiet for a second or two before leah spoke up, her words carefully measured. "i know things have been rough lately... for all of us, you especially, i wanted to come here and talk, clear the air maybe?”

you studied her face, searching for any hint of insincerity, but all you found was genuine concern etched in the furrow of her brow. with a sigh, you nodded, gesturing towards the couch for her to sit. as she settled on the edge of the cushion, you perched on the arm beside her, like you used to.

"i just... i wanted to say that i'm sorry. sorry for not speaking up before, for not standing by you when things blew up. i let my own fears and doubts cloud my judgment, and i should have been there for you, we all should have been there for you."

her words hung heavy in the air, mingling with the unspoken tension that had plagued your relationship for months. you could sense the sincerity in her voice, the raw vulnerability that she rarely showed to anyone.

“i appreciate it, but it wasn’t your fight, le.”

“your fights are our fights, you’re one of us, you always have been. you always will be”

you gave her a half smile in response, and moved closer to her on the sofa - opening your arms to her. she mirrored your smile, allowing your arms to wrap around her and hers around you.

after a few moments, you pulled away, looking at her directly. “thank you, for coming round. and for looking after me for all these years. but i think,” you paused, sniffling and turning your attention to the fabric of the sofa below you. “i think its time,”

she nodded along with you, taking a deep breath before smiling at you. “if that’s what you want to do, then do it, and we will support you. i promise.”

“i don’t know how to tell the girls, i haven’t seen any of them since i left. i don’t want them to find out through social media,” you rambled.

“we’re all meeting at mine tomorrow, why dont you come along? i know they want to see you, and i think you deserve a night to relax with us - gunner style.” you share a laugh at her comment, agreeing to see the girls. a small shred of anxiety tore through the depths of your stomach, but you shook it off; determined to do the right thing.

the next day seemed to fly by, seeming to disappear from you as you spent the hours doing odd jobs - attempting to distract yourself from the uneasiness gnawing at your insides.

now, you find yourself outside leah’s flat. she said 7, but you underestimated the traffic at this time in this part of the city - so you’re late, as per usual, and composing of yourself on the door step. after a deep breath, you raise your hand to knock.

once, twice, then the door flies open. a smiley young aussie waiting to greet you, her arms immediately around you and pulling you tight to her frame. “jesus, i missed you,” she whispers into your shoulder. “i missed you too, k.” you pull apart and she grabs your hand, pulling you from the now closed door and into the living area. it’s littered with everyone you know and love.

they greet you like nothing has changed, arms wrapped around you and whispers, comments and remarks of support. you slip into the group like you never left.

after you’ve eaten, and have returned to the living area, you stand up - allowing everyone’s eyes to fall on you. you take a deep breath, smiling at them then looking down at your thumbs. you twiddle them and enterlock your hands as you search for the best way to say it.

“i wanted you to hear it from me, that next week, a statement will be released. a statement explaining my temporary contract termination from arsenal. i love you all, like my family. i don’t want any of you to feel like any of this is your fault, but i just feel like i’m at a different point in my life right now - a point where my views, and the clubs managment’s views no longer align. i can’t jeopardise my mental health, for people who can’t seem to put me, or my friends, first.”

you say it in one, your mouth and words moving faster than your brain can comprehend. you finish with a shallow breath, looking up to the group. they take it well, a few of them shedding tears at the offical loss of their friend and teammate, others hugging you and sharing comforting smiles. you know it needs to happen, but this is the part that kills you. leaving behind your family, your people.

the night draws to an end and you begin saying your goodbyes, promising to keep in touch and arranging plans to meet up soon. as you start making your way out of the room and towards the door, kim pulls you aside. you can’t read her expression, a sickening mixture of sadness and happiness for you.

“i’ll miss you,” she says softly, reaching out to squeeze your hand. “but I know you’re doing what’s best for you. just don’t be a stranger, okay?”

you nod, feeling a lump form in your throat as you hug her tightly one last time before heading out the door.

------

1 week later - 2 weeks ago.

3pm. your phone dings with a notification from the arsenal woman’s football club instagram and app, giving you and thousands of others the news of a new and important post. you hover your finger over the notification, hestitating.

you open it eventually, propping your phone up as the video loads onto the screen. you cringe at the sight of you, expectant of whats to come.

“hi gooners, it’s so nice to sit down and speak to you. this year marks my 15th year at arsenal, if we’re taking it all the way back to my first academy scouting when i was 8. i have nothing my fondness and admiration for this club, these people and this community. to be apart of this team and to watch the growth of woman’s football has been an honour and a pleasure i will forever be grateful for. when i think back on my years here, i have nothing but happy memories. memories of friends, of wins and of losses, of meeting fans and selling out stadiums. some of these things we never believed would be possible, but you, every last one of you, have made it possible. after 15 years of my life dedicated to the game, i think it’s time to take a break. temporarily and indefinitely, i will be taking a step back from the club. thank you all for your unwaivering support, it means the world to me. this is a special club, which remains my home. but my health and wellbeing needs to be my number one priority. thank you.”

you watch as the video comes to an end, and the messages, comments and likes begin. you switch off your phone after a few minutes, tucking it under a cushion on your sofa and resuming your show - tuning out the constant buzzing.

------

present day.

you watch until the live recording of the match ends, you watch all of the post-match interviews, with nothing other than a smile on your face. when the stream finally does end, you feel like you can breathe again, switching to your messages app and drafting a text into the groupchat to congratulate the girls on their win. you press send, then abandon your phone beside you somewhere on the sofa. paying it no mind and you lean back into the comfort of the cushions and pillows surrounding you.

as you sink deeper into the softness, you let out a content sigh, feeling a sense of peace wash over you. you close your eyes and let the sounds of the television fade into the background, relishing in the quiet of your own thoughts.

you dozed off, allowing the safety of sleep to engulf you for a few hours. you lay peacefully until the doorbell rings, jolting you awake. you groan in annoyance, wondering who could possibly be bothering you at this hour. you reach for your phone as you stand, 9pm. reluctantly, you shuffle away from the sofa and make your way to the door, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

as you swing open the door, you are met with a pair of familiar faces that brings an instant smile to your lips. beth and viv, stand on your doorstep with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"surprise!" beth exclaims, holding up a bottle of wine and a bunch of flowers. "we come bearing gifts. can we come in?"

you step aside, allowing them to enter, still slightly taken aback by their unexpected visit. they both breeze past the threshold, only stopping for a moment to give you a hug before making themselves at home on your sofa.

“i didn’t know you were back in london, viv!” you exclaim, watching her set the flowers on the counter. “and shouldn’t you be out celebrating?” you ask beth with a laugh, shutting the door and joining them on the sofa.

“there’s no where we would rather be, mijn liefje.”

its the later end of midnight when you all start to tire, spread across the sofa and floor with eyes barely open and focusing on the movie playing.

“do you guys want to just stay here tonight? i don’t wan’t you driving home tired.” you say through a yawn, stretching your back out and turning to look at the both of them cuddled up beside you. both of their eyes closed and chests rising peacefully. you smile to yourself, moving to grab a blanket from the basket beside you and cover them both up. you switch off the tv, turn off the big light and make your way to your bedroom.

it isn’t long before you’re asleep too.

------

the next morning you wake to a persistant buzzing sound, your phone rattling on your bedside table. notifications from twitter and instagram flood your lockscreen, along with messages from the arsenal groupchat and from distant friends.

your eyes are just barely open when you reach for it, giving your eyes a moment to adjust before looking at the screen. you swing yourself off the bed, feet finding the cold of the floor as you pad through the flat until you find beth and viv.

they’re awake, both sharing the same expression as they look at you in the doorway between the two rooms.

you begin to read from your phone. “we can confirm that jonas eidevall has resigned from his position as head coach of our women’s first team and leaves us with immediate effect.”

[orangeboulevard]

Seven: Climb (Venom!Reader x AndrewGarfield!Spiderman)

Summary: Peter Parker should know that anything that can go wrong will go wrong on his patrols.

Word Count: 578

"I do not understand you!" A voice with an odd inflection and guttural tone bombarded Peter's ears.

"We can't just eat anyone, okay? Why is that so hard to understand?"

Peter noted a different voice, its sound was much kinder to Peter's intensified hearing but its actual words left him stupefied. Peter Parker, clad in his Spider-Man costume, had been absentmindedly scaling the side of a building on his patrol when he found himself eavesdropping on a very unusual conversation.

"You said 'bad people', he was clearly a bad person, he was stealing!" The first voice argued.

"Stealing baby wipes and diapers! We don't eat people like that." Peter had to keep himself from leaping from the wall, there were cannibals on that rooftop! Cannibalism is definitely on his list of no-nos.

"Human morals are too complicated to understand. My own race follows no such stupid rules, it is as your Darwin would say 'survival of the fittest'."

"That's why you're on Earth because you're definitely not the fittest-" This statement was met with an indignified roar that almost made Peter shit himself. "-And how do you even know about Darwin?... Have you been on the internet again!?"

"..."

"I told you no web surfing while I sleep!" "It is very boring! I cannot help myself!" "I can't believe you!"

Peter had heard enough damning evidence to bring these people in, the strange and sick cannibals that they were, so with a swift movement- he launched himself up and landed on the roof. Oddly, he only found one person instead of two. He tilted his head and almost jumped back in sheer fear as the person transformed into a dark towering beast.

"WHAT THE FUCK!?"

"Aw, is the little spider afraid? You should be. The tasty meal that you are."

"There will be no eating or snacking of any kind, thank you very much!" Peter squeaked out, feeling very much out of his depth with this new adversary. 

The huge creature scrambled towards him on all fours eliciting an unmanly shriek from the young man as he flung himself out of reach of it. It turned to follow him but before it could, it transformed back into the recognisable shape of a human. Peter let out a shaky breath as you held your hands up. 

"Sorry, sorry! Spider-Man, right? Aw, man. I'm a huge fan. Sucks we have to meet like this." Peter felt whiplash at the difference in the interactions, he couldn't respond with how perplexed and dumbfounded he was.

A serpentine black sludge erupted from your neck, it curled around to face you, and all of its razor-sharp white fangs were born, "I am hungry, I do not care about who Spider-Man is or your attraction to him!"

You splutter, face heating up, "What? No, I'm not- such slander! How preposterous!"

Peter ran a gloved hand down his face before leaping down to be face to face with you, "I'm sorry but what the hell is going on right now? What IS that? Do you have a sentient tapeworm?"

"TAPEWORM?"

"Sorry! Not a tapeworm, sorry!"

You cough and stuff your hands into your pockets, and you begin to ramble, "He's just an alien, picked him up a while ago, and he's just uhh carnivorous. Don't take me to the police, please, you're so sexy ahaha."

Peter tilted his head in confusion.

[belladonna-dusk-writer]

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, we have a title and a cover!!

Im so happy that I’m getting back into the groove of writing again (why does it only happen when I’m under an intense amount of stress?). But, I’m hella excited for this part in my story that I’ve been wanting to write, I’ve literally been thinking about it since I wrote the first one.

If you’re stumbling across this now and haven’t read my first story, but love vampires, romance, mystery, the band Ghost, and Papa III specifically, then you definitely should :) it’s completed!!

[jupitermchai]

…are we digging the look chat? Should I update his character sheet?

I also love how different my styles look here 😻

[skyj80]

BTR FIC MASTERLIST

A masterlist of all my BTR fics. I will update this list as I write more :)

Couch Cuddles: Logan and Carlos cuddle on the couch.

Say It Out Loud: James likes Kendall, and Gustavo can tell the kid just needs to say it out loud.

Big Time Daddy Issues: Logan's father is dead, and he feels nothing. Not a thing.

Big Time Kisses: Twelve times Logan and James kissed, and it "meant nothing," and the one time it finally meant something. (2/13 - in progress)

[kararomanoff]

you’ll never miss behave again

warning: gun play, slapping, bdsm, daddy kink

When Maria starts sharing to much you decide to tease her off…

Maria’s assistant comes over to your desk as you sit in boredom wishing you where on a mission instead

“Miss hill would like to see you in her office” he tells you, you smirk knowing what Maria wants from you is definitely not some papers or mission updates.

“tell her I will be there in 5” you tell her nervous little assistant, why did she even hire him? As much as you wanted to rush down the halls enter her office and do her every command, you where gonna make her wait, After Tony’s party last week where you overheard her telling Natasha about how you always do everything she says, how much you beg her. Natasha and Maria had been friends for a very long time but you had no idea that they spoke about such personal things considering they’re both so closed off.

so sense you’ve been trying to piss her off to prove that you don’t just come when she calls, you’ve been wearing short skirts and dresses ‘ accidentally’ bending over in front of agent morse and flirting with Wanda, each and every time making sure maria show.

you walk as slow as you possibly can on the way to her office, you know that Maria will be watching you on the security cameras, when you arrive at her office you go to knock on the door but before you can, the door is opened and Maria pulls you in by your neck.

she pushes you down atop of her desk, staring in your eyes with so much anger “what’s wrong with you? Wake up on the wrong side of the bed hm?” Before anything else comes out of your mouth Maria slaps you across the face.

“Oh you spoiled little brat, you never know when to stop do you? Well don’t worry cause after this you’ll never do anything like this again” she said while she caresses your face so softly, exactly where she slapped you. “And as an apology you’re going to get your little pussy off on my gun” Maria smirks so happy with her idea.

“What? Maria no! Thats so dangerous!” Another slap lands on your face, this time much hard than the last.

“THAT IS NOT MY NAME!!”

“I’m sorry sir but I- it’s so dangerous” your voice shakes

“that’s the point pretty girl, then you’ll never mess with me again” she was right, you never did mess with her again

——-

“Fuck daddy” you moan as she pushes her pistol in you as you sit in her lap

“oh look at you baby girl riding your daddy’s gun, moaning so much after telling me it’s to dangerous”

“daddyyyy-“ you stop when you hear coulsons voice

“don’t worry sweetheart it’s just a call” you freeze, can the most high up boss, see you?

“Maria”

“coulson”

“How is everything at the trescelion?”

“it’s all good but agent y/l/n name is being a whiny bitch”

“Mariaaaa” you whine

“shhhh princess or there’s no cumming for you”she whispers “sorry coulson i have to go” she says and hangs up on him in the middle of his sentence. She slaps you on the face again “what did I tell you hm? That’s not my name”

“but you where-“ before you could finish your sentence Maria starts ramming her gun in to you, so fast “I need to- daddy I need to- please” you beg her to let you cum

Maria laughs “ oh princess your not getting to cum after the way you’ve behaved” she pulls it out and pushes you off her lap “ off you go”