#I needed a few days to just. handle feelings on all that

[meazalykov]

yapper

barca femeni x reader

summary: you always had something to say

warnings: angst, online hate

you've always been the one to fill the quiet. 

if the locker room was silent, you’d throw out a joke. sometimes so bad it would have everyone laughing just because of how ridiculous it was. your teammates loved you for it—or at least you thought they did. 

you didn’t want anyone to sit in nervous energy before a big game. you wanted everyone to feel at ease, to smile, to believe they could take on anything since this was literally barcelona– of course the best club in the world could handle anything. 

“why are you so loud?” mapi teased one day after you cracked a pun about her tattoos during a media day. 

you grinned at her. 

“because someone has to keep this team awake. what would you do without me? shit, i don’t know how you survived without me for long.”

“probably enjoy the peace and quiet,” she shot back, but the grin on her face told you otherwise. 

you knew mapi got all the credit for being the talker of the group, but you easily topped her in that department. kika often joked that you had a built-in microphone, always on and ready to broadcast. 

yet, despite all the jokes, you never felt like it was too much. not until recently. 

training sessions at barça were something you relished, even on your worst days. being surrounded by alexia, kika, and esmee—your closest friends on the team—always made it feel less like work. 

alexia was like a big sister, always ready to listen. kika was your partner-in-crime, teasing you relentlessly, but never crossing the line. esmee? she was your rock, her quiet presence balanced your constant energy, grounding you in ways you didn’t think anyone could. 

after a long training session one evening, you found yourself alone on the practice pitch. penalties were your weak spot, and you wanted to fix that. you lined up the ball, took a deep breath, and sent it toward the net. it hit the post.

“what are you doing here so late?” alexia’s voice startled you.

you jumped, clutching your chest dramatically. 

“you scared me! i could’ve died.”

she smirked, arms crossed as she walked closer. 

“you didn’t answer my question.”

“what are you doing here?” you tried to deflect.

“i asked first.”

rolling your eyes, you motioned to the ball. 

“penalties. i suck at them.”

alexia raised a brow. 

“you’re not even one of the main takers.”

“exactly! that’s why i suck! i need to be better in case i ever have to take one, you know what if you frido or ewa are not available?” you rambled, launching into an explanation of all the ways penalties terrified you. 

alexia didn’t interrupt, just watched you with that calm, almost maternal expression she always had. 

“you’re overthinking it,” she finally said, cutting through your spiral. 

“just keep practicing. you’ll be fine.”

her reassurance helped more than you wanted to admit. alexia had that effect on people, like she could carry all your worries on her shoulders and not even flinch. 

a few days later, you stopped by esmee’s apartment, where she was curled up on the couch with her girlfriend, dani. the sight of them together tugged at something in your chest, a reminder of what you used to have with emily. 

“finally over her,” you announced as you plopped down beside them, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl on esmee’s lap. 

“who?” danielle asked, clearly out of the loop. 

“emily,” esmee filled in. “her ex.”

“oh, good for you,” danielle said with a smile through her dutch accent. 

“it’s about time, right?”

you laughed, nodding. 

“yeah, it only took me almost a year.”

however, later that week, you saw something that made your chest tighten all over again. scrolling through instagram, you stumbled upon a photo of emily with another girl, their smiles wide and carefree in north london. 

it shouldn’t have mattered. you were over the woman three years your senior. however, it stung in a way you didn’t expect. 

then came the champions league quarterfinal against bayern munich. the mistake was small—a misplaced pass, a missed mark—but pernille made you pay for it with a screamer that tied the game. 

1-1. 

after the game, you did your best to shake it off, smiling for the cameras, joking with alexia and frido. you thought you’d done well hiding your disappointment. 

the internet didn’t let it slide. 

“y/n talks too much. maybe she should focus on her game instead.”

“doesn’t she get tired of hearing her own voice?”

“the team probably wishes she’d shut up for once.”

the comments were harsh, cruel, and loud in your mind. you tried to brush them off, but the words stuck, clinging to you like thorns. 

the next day at training, you were different. quieter. focused. when kika asked if you were okay, you only nodded, too afraid that anything you said might annoy someone. 

“you sure?” she pressed.

you nodded again, forcing a small smile. 

“weird,” she muttered under her breath, walking away. 

alexia and aitana exchanged glances, both noticing the shift. esmee tried to pull you into a conversation during a water break, but you only offered short replies, your usual energy gone. 

that night in the locker room, after everyone else had left, you stayed behind, the weight of it all finally crashing down on you. in the showers, the tears came hard and fast, your shoulders shaking as you tried to keep quiet. 

though the locker room echoed, and when you emerged, changed and ready to leave, alexia, kika, esmee, and ellie were waiting for you. 

“we heard you crying,” kika said softly, her eyes full of concern. 

“what’s going on?”

you hesitated, swallowing hard. 

“nothing.”

“don’t lie,” alexia said, her voice gentle but firm. 

“i don’t…” you trailed off, taking a deep breath. 

“i don’t want to annoy you guys.”

they all looked at you like you’d grown a second head. 

“annoy us?” esmee asked, incredulous. 

“i talk too much. i saw what people were saying online, and… maybe they’re right.”

“y/n,” alexia started, stepping closer. 

“we love you. all of us. you make this team better, not worse.”

“you think we don’t look forward to hearing your ridiculous jokes every day?” kika added, her tone light but sincere. 

“you’re the reason we laugh half the time.”

“is that mistake against bayern bothering you?” ellie chimed in. “it happens to everyone. it doesn’t define you.”

their words broke through the wall you’d built, and before you knew it, they were pulling you into a group hug. 

“promise us you won’t let those comments get to you again,” alexia said, her hand on your shoulder. 

you nodded, sniffling. 

“i promise.”

“good,” kika said, grinning. 

“now, what were you going to say about the athletic club match?”

and just like that, you found yourself rambling again. they listened, laughing and teasing you like always, reminding you that this was where you belonged. 

masterlist

[moonstruckme]

Hey Mae!!! I saw that the requests were open so I thought I would request something but if I misread it or something then please ignore this!

I was wondering if you could write something with reader not used to being taken care of? Like they have always taken care of others and have never had the opportunity to be taken care of so when someone else does they feel the need to do something for them in return? I was thinking of maybe Remus for this one? Or maybe a poly! Ship but you can write whoever you want!!

I understand if this is not a topic you would like to write about but I just love your writing and thought I would give it a try. Thank you for reading this anyway and I hope you have a wonderful day/night!

(Sorry it’s such a long request)

No you were right lovely! Thanks for your request :)

roommate!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 625 words

You pad into the kitchen, blanket around your shoulders and half-dissolved lozenge tucked into your cheek, to find the sink clear of dishes yet again. Guilt grows like winding vines around your ribcage. 

You put on the kettle. Stand over it as the steam starts to rise, breathing in the thick air and imagining you can feel the pressure in your sinuses lessening slightly. You make a cup of turmeric tea with honey for yourself, and English breakfast for Remus, stirring in a tiny bit of sugar the way he likes. You’re careful to keep it well away from you and your potential contagious-ness while you carry it upstairs. 

You knock softly in case, but Remus is awake, as you knew he’d be. 

“Morning,” he says, looking up from his book with a smile. The sight of him, sleep-rumpled and happy to see you, is almost too much. His eyes flicker down to the mugs you’re carrying, eyebrows lifting. “For me?” 

“Mhm.” You pass it to him, ignoring his soft tutting when you turn it in your grip so the handle is facing out towards him. 

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he says warmly. He blows steam off the top, honeyed eyes on yours. “I should be the one getting up to make you tea, really. How are you?” 

“I’m okay.” You shrug, taking a sip of your tea. The heat dissolves your lozenge faster, double soothing for your throat. “And you’ve done more than enough already. Sorry about the dishes.” 

Remus’ expression clouds with confusion for a moment before he realizes what you’re talking about. “Oh, I don’t mind. I wouldn’t be doing dishes if I was unwell, either.” 

“Thanks for doing them for me,” you say softly. Or you try to, but it ends in a rasp, your throat contracting against a cough that doesn’t form. You clear it embarrassedly. 

Your roommate’s brows bend with sympathy. “Don’t worry about it,” he tells you. “It’s really no problem. You don’t need to bring me tea just because I did a few of your dishes.” 

“I want to make it up to you.” 

His expression softens. “There’s nothing to make up, love. It’s not a debt that needs to be repaid.” 

You frown, chewing your lozenge. “At least let me make you breakfast. Is there anything you’re craving?” 

“No.” Remus smiles at you. Not quite confused, almost disbelieving. “You don’t need to make me anything. You should be resting.” 

“I’ve been resting.” You sniff, wincing at the pain it sends through your head. You’ve been either in bed or on the couch for days, and meanwhile Remus has been cleaning up your messes, keeping quiet so you can sleep, and bringing you soup from that place you like down the street. 

“It’s my turn to help now,” you say. 

“It’ll be your turn when I’m poorly and miserable.” Remus sets a hand to your forehead, humming disapprovingly. You use every scrap of willpower you have left not to melt into his bed. “Listen to me, alright? I don’t mind looking after you. It’s not transactional. I washed your dishes because they were there and I had the time, and—” He gives you a playful look. “—because I know that if I were up all night coughing, I wouldn’t want to worry about dishes. Okay?” 

His eyes hold yours. You feel perhaps the most out of it you have since this illness came on. Drunk, almost. “Okay,” you capitulate. 

Remus smiles. “Thank you. So you can stop trying to think up ways to get even.” He picks up his tea. “I can see that head of yours working. Leave it alone, it’s going through enough.” 

You smile back, caught. “Thanks for all your help.” 

“Don’t worry about it, love.”

[heechwe]

beam me up | 𝐜𝐬𝐛

୨୧ pairing: choi soobin x fem!reader ୨୧ word count: 3.5k ୨୧ genre: lots of fluff, smidges of comedy, smut ୨୧ tags: parents!au, married!au, established relationship!au, body (mostly chest) worship, pet names (love, bunny, baby, etc), oral (f receiving), fingering, breeding kink, lactation kink, unprotected sex, down bad soobin essentially. ୨୧ synopsis: Going out after having a baby should be a breeze. So what if you don't feel incredibly confident? So what if you both act like awkward teenagers on your first date? It's you and Soobin, and that's all that matters. ➸ bless my pals @lovetaroandtaemin, @xomakara, and @heesuncore for reading this behemoth ilysm

Why am I so nervous? You think to yourself as you swipe the mauve shade in your hand across your bottom lip. Its light pigment prevents staining, yet provides noticeable definition, just enough to stand out. Your hair is in a low bun, two stray bangs falling over your cheeks. With your makeup and floral midi dress, you feel confident enough to step out and leave the house without becoming riddled with anxious thoughts.

The demands of motherhood have been hefty, but you clean up well. And despite all the dirty diapers and staying awake pumping, you’re ready to spend one night simply as Soobin’s wife. Perhaps a night out in town with your husband is exactly what you both need after three months of being parents.

It’s been picture perfect, without question. Minyoung has her father‘s pout when she sleeps, your long eyelashes, and the softness of a human being well beyond her years. But, you can’t deny that you miss the days where it was just you and Soobin in your own bubble.

Perhaps tonight, you can discover a balance where your old and new life blend harmoniously.

You step out into the living room to see Soobin with his mother, your daughter asleep in her grandmother’s arms. Soobin holds a laundry list of instructions in one hand and her car-seat in the other, waving his hands in frantic motions. “She usually naps like this for about two hours, but if she sleeps more, that’s even better. And then—“

Soobin stops short and looks back at you when he senses your presence. Your in-law and husband stare at you in disbelief. The frayed edges of your appearance from a few hours ago are nowhere to be seen.

Soobin looks at you like you hang the moon. His smile is small in the presence of his mother, him trying to maintain some semblance of modesty, but it’s ‌electric. “You look beautiful.” He sets the car-seat down on the floor to free his hand, reaching it out for you to take.

You do it gladly, smiling from ear to ear. Soobin also cleans up well, his button up tucked in his cargo pants. He’s always dressed a bit like a dad in training, and now he fits the bill‌. “You don’t look too bad yourself, Binnie.”

His face turns a shade of pink at the nickname, unable to hide your effect on him. He turns back to his mother and refers to the paper in his hand. “If you need something that isn’t in her diaper bag, please‌—“

“Soobin, I can handle it. Just spend the night with your lovely wife.” His mother winks at you and takes the car seat from him. “I promise to bring her back in the morning in one piece.”

You and Soobin kiss the top of Minyoung’s soft head and say your goodbyes, both of your hearts clenching. It’s the first time you’ve been apart from her for more than an hour or two, so the prospect is daunting, at the very least. “Be good for grandma, lil’ bun,” Soobin whispers to her sleeping figure.

When your mother-in-law leaves, Soobin looks back at you with a mixture of excitement, anxiety, and desire. “Ready to go?”

You nod, sharing the same concoction of emotions. Most importantly, though, you’re relieved to finally have some alone time together. Wherever the night takes you is anyone’s guess. “Definitely.”

You both sit at the table in the restaurant like it’s your first date. Uncertain about what to expect once the meal ends, full of nerves and anticipation.

Soobin finds it hard to make eye contact with you, his eyes moving across the entire room. He can’t help it when you look so beautiful. You always do, but tonight is different. He’s been so stuck in the haze of being a new dad, it’s like he’s seeing you clearly again. Now, he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

You’ve been married for half a decade, ‌yet every time he sees you, he falls deeper. It’s the first time for him every second he gets to touch you, kiss you, tell you how much you matter to him.

With a child, his feelings have only amplified. He looks at Minyoung some mornings and sees all the features he loves about you and vice versa in one human, his pride as great as his love.

But, instead of revealing he’s in the throes of intense admiration for you in the small Italian restaurant, he turns his focus back to the menu in his hands and looks over the wine list.

The appetizer you shared a few minutes ago has made him thirsty for some alcohol, it seems. “I know you have water, but do you want some Pinot, too? Oh! They have Moscato! I know that’s your favorite.”

It’s the way his eyes light up and his mouth curves into that signature O that makes you giggle‌, unable to contain it.

“What’s so funny?” Soobin looks up from his menu with mirth.

“Nothing at all, Binnie. I’m just happy.”

Your chest pinches at his soft reaction to your words, him looking over his menu at you with bright eyes.

Soobin has always been a goofball, intentionally or not, but it’s what makes him the best partner, among his many qualities. He knows when to be serious, taking the reins when necessary, but he’s well-versed in lightening the mood when you need it.

It’s surreal sometimes thinking about how you lucked out.

Suddenly, your thoughts cease thanks to the rising discomfort from your breasts. It started as an unnoticeable pinch when you gave your drink and light food order, but now it’s full-on pain erupting in your chest.

Why is it so uncomfortable?

You feel the droplets of milk settling into the fabric of your dress, your question answered in a flash.

The impending concern rises on Soobin’s face when he notices your scrunched-up brows and mouth. Then, he sees the two small wet patches forming on your chest. Immediately, he shucks off his jean jacket to give you. “Here baby, take this.”

A deep blush forms on your cheeks when you cover up with his garment. You’re unsure how to broach the subject or the rest of dinner in this state, immediately self-conscious. “I’m sorry. This is so embarrassing, I—”

“Baby, no. Don’t be sorry, it’s normal.” Soobin says the words with so much empathy, you could cry from that alone. You excuse yourself to use the bathroom and clean yourself up, not listening to the words that leave his lips in rapid succession. You’re a mom. It happens to every mom at some point! I love you!

Soobin feels useless, knowing no words he says will assuage your shame. He decides now is as good of a time as any to check up on Minyoung. It’s been almost three hours since he’s talked to his mother.

When the line rings, Soobin doesn’t let it bother him. Minyoung probably needed a burping or night-time bath. No big deal.

By the second unsuccessful attempt at contact, his heart drops into his stomach. What if something’s wrong? As he tries to call for the third and fourth time, his thoughts spiral further.

What if his mother rushed out with Minyoung and she forgot to bring her cell because it was so serious? He knows babies usually are out of the woods for colic by the third or fourth month, but anything’s possible, right?

Parental anxiety is one thing, a feeling Soobin knows well by now, but his instincts are usually spot-on. And something has to be going on if his mother isn’t getting back to him.

You trot over to the table, tucking Soobin’s jacket tighter around your chest so it doesn’t flap open. The event may have been embarrassing at the moment, but you’re ready to get the night back on track and focus on your husband.

You smile eagerly, not noticing the way Soobin’s face has gone stark white. “I think I got most of it, but—“

“We have to go. Something’s wrong.”

You don’t think twice, practically stealing Soobin’s keys from his pocket when he stands up. The two of you race out of the restaurant and to your little girl, your thoughts newly scrambled in the worst ways.

Soobin tries to knock on his parents’ door without slamming his fist against the wood, but he can’t help it. So many scenarios have built up in his head since his intuition kicked in. He could barely say one word on the drive to his mother’s. The silence was palpable in the air, both of your bodies filled to the brim with fear and regret for leaving her for one second.

Soobin’s mother answers the door with a shocked expression. “Honey, what are you two—“

Soobin barrels past her and into the house. You follow hot on his heels. His pace is quick, his voice loud as he calls out Minyoung’s name like she’s able to answer him back.

Then, you find Minyoung perfectly content. Soobin’s dad has her in his arms at the dinner table, feeding her a bottle of milk. “Hey, kids. Why are you here?”

Soobin stutters when he responds. “M-Mom wasn’t answering and we—“

“Oh, lord.” You hear her deep groan pervade the small kitchen. “You left the restaurant for that?”

“What were we supposed to think?” Your words are full of defense, lighthearted now that you’re not in panic mode. Were your worst thoughts so unexpected? You felt bad enough leaving your daughter alone with people you trusted just for a night of solitude. If something worse had happened, the guilt would’ve been too much to bear.

Soobin rushes over to Minyoung and takes her from his father’s arms. Droplets of milk spill from her lips, but she doesn’t care. She reaches up to touch Soobin, her little nails gliding across his face. “Daddy’s here, Minnie.” He presses his forehead to hers, smiling proudly. “I’m right here.”

You tear up at the image in front of you, relieved to see your baby girl out of harm’s way. Even if the harm was entirely imaginary, you’re calmer nonetheless.

Soobin walks towards you and kisses the crown of your head. “Sorry I pulled a false alarm, baby.”

Although you’ll never tell him, you don’t mind that he did so. He’s an incredible husband and father, always on alert for the two of you and putting his needs to the wayside. You have to remind him every day to also think of himself, and he appreciates you looking out for him in the same fashion.

You shake your head and move Minyoung from Soobin’s arms to yours. You kiss her chubby cheeks and she coos at the attention, the spitting image of her father. “Daddy is gonna be the death of me, isn’t he, baby girl?”

Soobin chuckles into your hair and holds onto one of Minyoung’s fists with his palm. “Not if I can help it.”

“Now that you both have made sure she’s okay, go back to your date night!” Your mother-in-law strides into the dining room to pluck Minyoung from your grip. Minyoung is more than comfortable with it, smiling widely into her grandmother’s neck. “It’s rude enough that you both interrupted your dinner time and ours.” She turns to speak directly to Minyoung. “Right, sweetie? How dare they!”

“It’s officially off, I promise.” Soobin puts his phone in the glove-box once he parks the car in the downtown parking garage, determined to make the rest of the date night go off without a hitch.

You laugh and take his hand in yours, interlacing your fingers. “So much for low-key and relaxing, right?”

“Hey!” He points at you with his other hand. “It’s only 8 PM. The night’s still young.”

“Well, we’re not gonna be able to go back to the restaurant now. Not after I practically gave out my milk for free.” You cover your face with the palm not wrapped in your husband’s, but he takes that one too.

“Stop it,” he chides with a stern pout. “Even if you leaked through your shirt every time we went out, you’d still be more beautiful than every other person on the planet.”

You tease, "You're just saying that."

“I mean it! Do you see how gorgeous and incredible Minyoung is? That’s half your handiwork.”

You roll your eyes, but your body lights from within at his words. “She’s half yours too. You probably didn’t notice, but every waitress was checking you out.”

Soobin blushes hard, suddenly shy. “They were not.”

“Yes, they were. I can’t blame them, though. Parenthood has made you ten times sexier.”

Soobin quirks an eyebrow, the undercurrent of passion in your words unmistakable. He gets closer to you until your faces are barely an inch apart. His lips ghost over yours. “I could say the same about you. I’ve only had eyes for you, but even more so now that you’ve had my baby.”

You gulp, noticing how hard your thighs are clenching in your seat. Soobin notices too, holding one of your knees in his hand with a smirk. “Binnie, I’m not hungry for food anymore.”

He presses his lips to yours slowly. You moan into his mouth from such exquisite pleasure that’s been long overdue. He glides his tongue in between your lips as he palms one of your breasts over his jacket. When he takes his mouth from yours, he’s breathing heavily. “I was gonna say the same thing.”

It’s a clash of teeth and tongue when you make it inside the house. Hands run over curves and skin to take off the restricting clothing, appearances be damned.

You discard Soobin’s button-up somewhere in the hallway as he pulls your hair loose from your bun, clutching the strands at your nape to expose more of your neck. He riddles your skin with love bites before you even make it to the bedroom, but you both love it. How feral and frantic you are for one another, no children or external restrictions holding you back.

By the time your body hits the king-sized bed, all that’s left on you, garments-wise, is your thin bralette and mismatched underwear. Soobin looks over your body with a hunger that’s unshakeable. The poor man’s probably salivating at the mouth by now, just like you. 

Ever since the doctor’s six-week ban on any physically strenuous activity, he couldn’t imagine dry-humping without fear of hurting you. That timeline came and went in a flash, but with the fatigue of daily life, it seemed impossible to find time to be intimate.

Until now, that is.

“How did I get so lucky? You’re angelic.” Soobin spreads his palms out over your chest. His long fingers squeeze your breasts over the confines of your lingerie, making you moan. “I have to take this off, bunny. I need to see you.”

You feel heat pooling at your center from his gaze, his words, his touches on your skin. You unclasp the clips holding your bra together and flick it away, not breaking eye contact the entire time.

He used to be so shy during sex, and now he wastes no time unzipping his pants to touch himself. “Fucking perfect,” he grunts, staring at the pebbling of your nipples and the volume of your tits from lactation. He spreads the pooling pre-cum in his hand to rub his cock earnestly.

You whimper and clench around nothing, the center of your underwear incredibly damp. Why did he get to have all the fun and leave you frustrated? “Binnie, please touch me.”

“Gladly.” He uses the hand not holding his dick to yank your underwear off and throw them in a corner of your room. Once the fabric is gone, he dives in between your legs. His licks start small, kitten-like in their touch, but soon he grows hungrier, more dominant. Eating you out has always been one of his favorite things during sex, like it's the only thing he needs to do to sustain himself.

“You taste amazing. You always do.” He stops jerking himself off to press two fingers inside of you without warning, mixing his essence with yours on his way to your warm and wet walls. His lips and tongue remain attached to your clit as he prods you soft and slow.

“God, it feels so good.” You raise your hips to match the rhythm of his hand inside of you. Despite being eager to keep his mouth between your legs, you reach down for him, wanting to feel his lips on yours again. “I want you up here with me.”

Soobin smiles gently before crawling up the expanse of your body. He looks down at you, unable to hide how strong his desire runs in his veins. But instead of his declarations of love that he’s said a million times before, he greets you with a deep kiss to your lips and pushes his fingers back into your cunt.

You moan into his mouth. “Jesus fuck, babe.” You whimper as he leans his head down to latch his mouth to one of your nipples, still ramming his hand deeper into you. Some milk sinks onto his tongue and dribbles past his chin, but he doesn’t care. If anything, it turns him on more. His cock produces more pre-cum and spreads onto your bedsheets.

“I want you inside of me, Soobin.” You spread your legs wider for him to settle into, and he does.

He rubs the head of his cock across your slit before nestling inside fully, his mouth opening in a large gasp as he fills you. “It always feels like the first time, bunny. Always so tight for me, fuck.”

His pace is reverent, driven by his lust, his love for you, and his desire to make this experience as incredible as it already is for him. He rubs your clit between his fingers, and your face contorts into absolute pleasure after a few minutes like that, privy to every feeling. When you fall apart, your body clenching around him in ecstasy, the moment is too beautiful for Soobin to handle. It’s a picture he wants to tattoo on his heart forever.

You could have done anything in this life, and by his luck and the universe’s grace, you were led straight to him and have given him some of the greatest gifts he could ever ask for. Your love, your hand in marriage, your children.

He would follow you anywhere without question. And he may not always believe it, but he also holds all the same powers over you. Without him, the world would be a lot duller, no color to define the edges and details of the life that you’ve built together. He makes it all worth it.

So when his next words leave his mouth, you can’t help but agree with them, the thought too beautiful in the throes of your desire to say no to. “I want to fill you up, bunny. Have another baby with you, as many as you want. So beautiful like this, but you’re even more beautiful heavy and pregnant, shit,” he moans, eyes screwed shut as he chases his own orgasm.

“Yes, Binnie, fill me up. Come inside of me, give me another. Pretty please?”

Those two words are his undoing, the blade that severs the cord that’s been slowly tightening in his stomach since he saw you in your dress five hours ago. He spills inside of you, your insides hot with his release. He doesn’t let any part of it go to waste, fucking it into you until his hips can’t go for much longer.

He lies beside you, both of your chests heaving. And while the moment was an amalgamation of intense passion, you both look at each other and laugh like teenagers. It takes you back to that first night, the first “I love you,” all the first you’ve shared and the ones that are yet to come.

“You’re my best friend, you know that, right?” He rubs your bare arm as he stares deeply into your eyes, more in love than he was a second ago. “I could not have found anyone better to be my wife and my children’s mother than you.” He kisses you on the forehead, his lips featherlight. “I love you.”

You may be incredibly hormonal, any words that make your heart seize up more than likely to cause a well of tears in your eyes. But these don’t. They make your heart lighter, shoot all your fears down, and quell any insecurities that have sprung to the surface since the two of you have become parents.

“I love you, Binnie. In this lifetime and all the other ones,” you respond. You snuggle into his chest, feeling the tempo of his heartbeat against your ear.

Everyone told you both how hard having kids would be. You know you’re not in the home stretch, not in the slightest, but with Soobin, no mountain you’ll come across is insurmountable.

All because he’s yours and you’re his.

@yvnempire @sjylouvre @mini-mews @jayparked @heesuncore @yoursjaeyun @sungbeams @jenoslutie @loserlvrss @pars-ley @lovetaroandtaemin @wonwovy @hursheys

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 ౨ৎ˚₊

@kstrucknet @k-films @kvanity-main @moadiarynet @sweetvenomnet @moadiarynet @lapydiaries @onedoornet @sayxonet @violetanet @svthub @whipped-kpop-creators

[kisakis-boyfriend]

♦️ Platonic Ciel x Older Brother Figure?

Say Ciel has a close coworker, family friend or even a servant who is a few years older then him (15-17, teenage age around), and one night Ciel is having a panic attack.

IN SWOOPS OLDER BROTHER FIGURE TO THE RESCUE

Bonus points if the reader knows about Sebastian and refuses to let him around Ciel when the kid is vulnerable

Pairings: None

Warnings: Male!reader, servant!reader, hurt/comfort, panic attack comfort, reader's past is implied to be a bit dark

The night was calm — a few clouds passing in front of the moon, bringing it in and out of view, a chilly breeze fluttering the curtains by the open window, and the sound of silence presiding over everything in and around the Phantomhive Estate. Yet, you couldn't shake this odd feeling stirring in your stomach.

Something didn't feel quite right…but what?

Was this nagging feeling because you forgot one of your duties? Thinking back through your day, you recount all of your chores as a mental checklist and nothing seems amiss there.

Was there an important event tomorrow that you need to wake up extra early for? No, no one mentioned anything about any meeting or public figure visiting tomorrow.

It was really starting to give you a headache now… everything was in its place, but this gut feeling was beginning to make you nauseous. You know something's not right; somewhere in this place.

You mulled over your next course of action—eyes darting around like you were watching a mosquito fly right in front of your face—and finally settled on your next move: you'll take a quick walk around the manor. Down a couple hallways, by the young master's bedroom. Just a quick pass, make sure he's safe and asleep, then you'll wait and see how you feel after that.

Keeping quiet when you're worried isn't particularly easy to do, but you do try to avoid the creaky floorboards, and make use of the rugs to muffle your footsteps. Master Ciel's door was just a few steps away; all you have to do is stand outside and listen.

…

…

…

“Can't… I can't…”

A sob came from the other side of the door, and that was all you needed for your protective nature to make you spring into action. You knocked on the door lightly, “Master? Are you alright?”

As you knocked, the door slowly opened wide enough for you to make out two figures; the young master, sitting upright on his bed, and the head butler, Sebastian, kneeling in front of him. Ciel is clutching his chest, staring at the floor with shaking, unfocused eyes as Sebastian notices your presence.

The raven haired butler turns his head towards you, and you question “Sebastian, what's going on?”

“It seems that the young master had a terrible nightmare.” he explains, “What on Earth are you still doing up, y/n?”

You turn your gaze downward before answering “W-well… I had this strange feeling that something was a bit off. I just… just wanted to make sure the master was ok before I turned in.” your voice came out a bit shakier than you intended it to, but how could it not when you're so worried about him?

Sebastian gives a soft, assuring smile as he speaks. “I see, what good intuition you have there. However, I have the situation taken care of, so you can rest soundly n–”

“Um… can I… handle this one?” you interrupt. The head butler looks surprised to hear you ask something so bold, giving a whispered 'what' in return.

“I have experience with this kind of thing. I think I can help.” you smile sheepishly, half ashamed to even admit that out loud. You meet Sebastian's gaze and it's obvious that he's skeptical—you can practically see his mind pondering the offer behind his ruby eyes—but he sees something in you that proves you're being truthful right now. He motions for you to enter, then steps out, shutting the door with a 'click' as he leaves.

Your attention turns back to Ciel. The sight of your younger master is worrisome, yet all too familiar — heavy, labored breathing, unfocused eyes, face covered in sweat, and little awareness of his surroundings; he is, indeed, experiencing a panic attack of sorts.

You cautiously sit next to him on the bed, speaking with a gentle tone so you won't startle him, “Young master, it's alright, you're awake now. Whatever happened in that dream is over.”

While his breathing remains ragged and hurried, you pick up on the way his head turns toward you slightly, as if acknowledging your presence and paying attention to your words, at least a little. “Can you try to take a deep breath with me? Follow my count; breathe in… and out… One more time, in… and out…” Ciel is able to mimic you for the most part, his inhale stutters a bit, but this has already helped to prevent more hyperventilating.

“Good job! That's not always easy, I know.” you reassure, smiling solemnly as flashes of your past reappear in your mind. “Would you like my hand? You can squeeze it if you need to, it won't hurt me, I promise.” you laugh.

Ciel's gaze is fixed on your outstretched hand. While you are still in uniform, your gloves are missing. He reaches out, grabbing your hand as he trembles unwillingly. That little bit of human connection is so foreign to the young child — most of the time, the comforting touch comes from a gloved hand, which feels all too distant; too… lonely.

“Do you… want to talk about it?”

His grip tightened at the suggestion. “…No…”

Immediately reinforcing his boundaries, you reply “That's alright, you don't have to. But if you change your mind, not a word of it will leave this room, I swear it on my honor as a Phantomhive butler.”

The young master shakily exhales, and though he doesn't reply back, you're sure he understands the truth in your promise.

You ponder your next move for a second, peeking at the door to Ciel's room to make sure there's no crack between it and the doorframe. Once you're sure that the head butler isn't spying on you, you lean in and whisper “I know it's late, and I'm sure you've already had your teeth brushed, but…” a small piece of chocolate is slowly pulled from your front coat pocket as you ask, “would something sweet help?”

The young master blinks a few times, a little dumbfounded as he wonders “Do you always keep sweets on your person?”

“Mm, I do now. After all, you never know when a bit of emergency chocolate will come in handy.” You joke. You've been trying to convince yourself that this habit didn't form solely because of your new master — that it was beneficial to keep a few treats on hand in case you run into an upset child on the street, or any child, really — but, in truth, the young master was the person on your mind when you initially made the decision.

You sat in mildly uncomfortable silence for a moment before speaking again. “It appears you've calmed down quite a bit. How are you feeling now?”

Ciel stares at the candy in his hand, speaking more in his usual tone. “Better.”

“Very good,” you sign in relief, “I'm glad to hear that.” your smile turns into a frown as you ask, “Um, Master, would you like to be alone now? I wouldn't want to overstay my welcome or prevent you from falling asleep…”

“NO!” the younger boy exclaims. With the speed at which he turned towards you, you're afraid he may have pulled something. “Stay… please stay…” he croaks.

His sudden brashness startles you—all you can do is stare into his misty eyes as he pleads with you. “O-oh, sorry… If you really want me to stay, then I will!” this appears to ease the tension as Ciel loosens his grip on your hand. “But… you should at least get under the covers again, young master. Lest you fall asleep right here and catch a cold.”

Ciel relents, but only after you promise again to stay with him. You help him climb underneath the soft sheets and begin to tuck him in when he says “I… want you to… ahem… to sit with me.”

“O-oh! I can do that–” you attempt to sit on the edge of the bed again, but your young master stops you, correcting his statement.

“No, I meant under the covers… with me…” The request sounds so unlike the Ciel Phantomhive you know, and yet, you sense the earnestness behind every word. Besides, how are you going to turn down his request when he's staring through you with puffy, red eyes? He's not even calling for Sebastian either, like he usually does for all of his problems—small or large.

“…Young Master, I'm still wearing shoes, won't they–”

“Just get in!” he sighs, exasperated. At this point, you have more than enough confirmation that he's fine with this. So, you lift up the sheets long enough to scoot in next to him, sitting stiffly as your shoulder brushes against your master's.

Silence hangs in the air, creating an uncomfortable atmosphere until Ciel speaks up, in a small voice. “When you mentioned having experience with this earlier, what did you mean by that?”

You turn toward him, surprised. “You heard that? I mean– you remember when I said that?” The fact that Master Ciel not only paid attention to, but is interested in something that you said is definitely a foreign situation. Nevertheless, you begin explaining, “Well, you see… I have quite some experience with night terrors–”

As you speak, Ciel slowly leans on your shoulder, not once interrupting your story. “At one point, I would have them every single night… I felt like I was going mad. One moment, I was huddled under my blanket, and the next, all of my past demons came to haunt me. I thought it might never end.” you yawn, leaning your head over until it rests on top of the young master's head. “But, you know something? My nightmares have lessened after working here…” another long, hard yawn, making it impossible for you to keep your eyes open any longer. “…I feel like… I can let my past go…and…finally have… a purpose…”

Silence once again fills the room — a much more gentle silence this time, as Ciel drifts off, and you drift off with him, comfortable in each other's presence.

[fishsticksloser]

Nanami SFW HCs

Warnings: opinions, good, slight spoilers

A/N: This man had a choke hold on me for a bit... I miss this man...

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

He really doesn't seem very affectionate as he tends to keep away from PDA (outside from holding hands)

On top of that, he really likes quality time and acts of service

He's not really touchy unless he's just had a bad day or is drunk

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He definitely loves his partner's smile, their hips, their hair

If he's reading, he absentmindedly runs his fingers through their hair. He loves how soft it is, it's a comforting thing for him whether he realizes it or not

His hands are his favorite, followed very very closely by his arms

He's strong, he enjoys how his partner feels, often touching them as he reads or is otherwise occupied.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Not a huge fan by any means

He normally cuddles after a long day or in bed

Not to mention the couch cuddle sessions on the couch

Nanami's preferred cuddling position is with his partner laying on his chest, followed closely by spooning (he's the big spoon)

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He wants to settle down more than anything, wanting to travel with his partner, have that life that he's scared he never will be able to have

He's a pretty good cook all things considered, he can definitely learn more, but he's not bad at all

He's also very clean, always taking care of things after he's done, deep cleaning his place at least once a week.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He's very short, blunt

He doesn't want there to be any understandings as to why or what happened

He is very clear and to the point

F = Fiancé(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Nanami really wants to get married, he wants have that commitment, that love

By no means does that mean he'll propose within a few months

He takes his time, wanting to get a good feel about the relationship and he absolutely will talk to his partner in depth before popping the question

So about 1-3 years

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Physically, he's so gentle

Soft kisses, gentle brushes... He's so soft

Emotionally he can be a bit rough

He's not the best at sugar coating things nor does he think he should have to. His partner is an adult, they can handle it

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He doesn't mind hugs

He doesn't necessarily like it either

If someone asks, he will definitely give them a hug, typically their lose and warm though

If he can tell someone needs one, he hugs them tight

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Not quick at all

Sometimes his partner wonders if he does as he hardly ever says it

He's a very quiet kind of lover.

When he does say it for the first time, it's a big deal

He takes his partner out to dinner, goes dancing, whatever

This is a very important moment

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Nanami doesn't get very jealous

It takes a lot to get him jealous anyways

If he does get jealous, he typically walks over and wraps his arm around his partner's waist

Giving whoever it is a dirty look until they leave. Worse case he'll ask the other person to leave, especially if his partner is clearly uncomfortable.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

His kisses are normally very soft, loving

He loves kissing his partner's lips and temples

He loves being kissed on his hands and arms

There is something so intimate and loving about it

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He's really good around kids

He's very nice and kind to them, willing to help out however he can

He'll even play with them sometimes if he feels up to it

Nanami absolutely wants kids in the future, he wants to give them a better life than he had.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He's up bright and early, he's got a lot to do after all

He'll make sure to make breakfast, a fresh pot of coffee for his partner as well

Everything is ready for when they wake, a small little note left for them as well

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

He'll be up reading for a few hours, his pillow propped up against the headboard

He'll cuddle with his partner while he reads, enjoying their presence

Nanami holds his partner tight when he finally puts his book down, burying his face in their hair

Expect a few kisses as well

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He's pretty open actually

Not about everything obviously, but he'll tell you important things that won't put you in harms way

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He's not quick to anger

............ Or at least he doesn't show it

He can hide his anger quite well, putting it into other things rather than exploding

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Nanami has a fairly good memory

If he thinks its important enough, he writes it down just in case

Especially things in passing, he does so much research on things his partner mentions in passing to make sure he gets things right

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Their first kiss

Asking them to move in

Dancing in the kitchen together

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He's super protective

Will die for his partner... And his loved ones if necessary

He makes sure to keep his partner out of harms way as much as possible, even if it means hiding them completely

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Nanami puts in so much effort he'll put Gojo to shame

That list he has of his partner's favorite things (and more)?

Yeah, you bet that thing is coming out every time he plans a date or anniversary, plus gifts, that list comes in super handy

Everyday tasks?

That man doesn't have a sloppy bone in his body, he makes sure to do his chores every day without fail

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Communication is super important to him, but he still sometimes forgets to communicate

Working late? His partner might have no idea as he gets too engrossed in his work that he forgets

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Not overly concerned...

He makes sure his clothes are wrinkle free, but after that he doesn't really care that much

Unless for a date, then he's making sure everything is perfect for his partner

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

He feels pretty normal

Not that he doesn't love his partner, but he doesn't rely on them

Nanami is very independent, relying on himself only

Yes, he adores his partner, but his whole world doesn't revolve around them

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

When he hugs or cuddles with his partner, he buries his face in their hair, taking a deep breath

Something about the smell of his partner makes his feel so comforted, like he's finally home and can rest

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Putting anyone down.

Huge pet peeve

While he doesn't like Gojo, he will never put Gojo down

Nor should anyone else do so as, to him, it shows a lack of intelligence

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He is a light sleeper, waking up multiple times every night

When he does wake up, he might get out of bed and just go look out the window to calm his mind before he's back in bed, cuddling with his partner

[justaragdollysblog]

The Sauce That Makes You Stupid

wanted to do a fic about a concept i’ve seen a few people talking about! this fic will contain mentions of drugs and dependencies

if you ever need assistance w something like this or someone to talk to, (800) -222-122 is a hotline! pls stay safe <33

TW: Drug Dependency, Anxiety, Mentions of tripping, Hurt/comfort

——————————————————————

4 days, 96 hours, 30 minutes and 20 seconds.

That’s how long it’s been since the fast food adventure.

That’s how long since Ragatha got the sauce in her eye. How long since she rubbed it in.

She hadn’t been able to relax since.

Sure, relaxation was hardly common in the circus anyways. There was always a slight urgency and alertness, even in the late hours of the night. No one really truly was safe.

But, after the effects wore off, Ragatha told herself it was a one time thing. No big deal. She’d move on, and the whole experience would fade to the back of her mind like all the rest of them.

Then why couldn’t she stop thinking about the sauce?

She was currently in her coquette bedroom, fiddling with her red yarn locks. Her foot was tapping against the floor quietly. She needed to stay moving; but she had no idea why.

Her mind drifted as she recalled the adventure. It was all hazy after that mannequin demanded the burger. The sauce. The sauce that makes you stupid. The sauce that makes you feel like you’re made of electricity when it’s gone.

Ragatha’s eye then drifted to her closet. Truthfully, it wasn’t gone. She had smuggled a bottle in, opting to explain it as ‘horseradish sauce’ to Caine. He didn’t see a problem with it.

She eyed the handle. No, she couldn’t think like that. There was no way she’d look at the stuff again. She was mean to her friends and basically useless on it.

No way. Nope.

Ragatha moved before her mind could catch up with her. She walked over to her closet, and opened the doors. Behind a few dresses sits the bottle.

Just a little, then she’d be done. Just a little bit and she’d never do it again. She shakily reached out for the bottle, holding it as she stared at it.

She raised the bottle over her head, aiming for her eye. She was about to apply pressure, when-

“Ragatha!”

She yelped in surprise and scrambled to try and hide the sauce. The voice belonged to Pomni, who was standing in the doorway with a nervous and concerned expression.

“Pomni! What a surprise! What are you doing here?” Ragatha spoke a little too quickly and a little too frantically. Some of her red yarn hair was sticking out in places.

Pomni eyed her worriedly. “Um, the theme’s about to start. Have you…slept at all?” She asked, uncomfortably shifting her position.

Ragatha blinked. It was already theme time? “Oh, I’m fine! Right as rain, Poms. Just didn’t sleep, you know how it is here!” She forced a smile.

Pomni didn’t miss how her hands seemed to grasp on to anything to fidget, and how her closet door was open. “Right…uh, why’s your closet open?”

Ragatha internally cursed herself for not closing it. “Oh! Just…getting ready for the day. Hard to get prepared without proper clothes!”

Pomni shakily nodded. She knew something had to be up. Ragatha was never this frantic and skittish. However, she surmised, it wouldn’t be solved right now. The gang was waiting and the theme wouldn’t complete without them.

“Well, I guess we better head out to the stage. Maybe we can try to hang out later after the adventure!” She suggested, managing a hopeful smile.

Ragatha hesitated, eyes darting to the closet and back quickly. She could feel something terrifying stitch itself in her threads. Something horrid.

She shook her head, dispelling the thoughts. “Yeah, let’s go.”

She headed out with her, closing the door behind them. She’d be okay. She didn’t even really need it.

She just had to wait until the evening.

————————————————————

Hi guys! I wanted to try and tackle a different subject matter in this fic! i hope i did an okay job :)))

pls don’t hesitate to reach out if you’re struggling!

reblogs are appreciated! see you guys next time!

[tyurshoe]

Radioapple roleplay starter/Beginning Fic

Scene: Club Consent, Pentagram City

The pulsating beat of Club Consent reverberated through the smoky air, mingling with the vibrant neon lights that illuminated the chaos of the dance floor. Pentagram City’s most notorious denizens swayed and stumbled, their laughter and chaos perfectly fitting the club’s decadent ambiance.

At a large round table tucked into one of the club’s shadowy alcoves, the Hazbin Hotel gang sat with drinks in hand. Charlie, her ever-optimistic smile wide, was chatting animatedly with Vaggie and Niffty about the club’s decor, while Angel Dust lounged lazily across a plush bench, a martini dangling precariously from his clawed fingers. Husk grumbled quietly into his whiskey glass, keeping one ear on the conversation in case Angel pushed his luck, and Cherri Bomb was already leaning half across the table to swipe a sip from someone else’s drink.

In the middle of the group, Lucifer Morningstar sat with effortless poise, his devilish grin exuding charisma and dominance. Alastor, seated just beside him, couldn’t help but steal glances at the King of Hell, his usual unsettling grin faltering every so often into something far more genuine—and vulnerable.

For Alastor, this evening was both a torment and an opportunity. He would never have set foot in such a raucous establishment if it weren’t for Lucifer’s presence. After months of trying to show his affection in subtle ways—always fetching Lucifer’s preferred vintage wine, offering to handle troublesome souls, weaving compliments into their conversations—he still hadn’t managed to make his feelings clear. Tonight, he resolved, would be different.

But so far, the opportunity eluded him.

“So, Luci!” Angel Dust purred, leaning forward and propping his chin on his hand. “What’s a big shot like you doin’ slummin’ it with us lowly sinners tonight, huh?”

Lucifer chuckled, his voice smooth as silk. “Well, Angel, even a King needs his entertainment. And who better to amuse me than such a… colorful group?”

The table burst into laughter—except for Alastor, whose eyes narrowed briefly.

“Yes, colorful indeed!” Alastor interjected, his radio-smooth voice cutting through the noise. “And speaking of entertainment, I was just about to ask—”

“Honestly,” Charlie interrupted, “I can’t believe you’d call this ‘slumming it,’ Angel. This place is great! Look at all the decorations! Aren’t they stunning, Dad?” She turned her radiant smile toward Lucifer, cutting off whatever Alastor had been about to say.

Lucifer smirked indulgently. “It does have its charms, my dear. Though I’ve seen more impressive gatherings in my day.”

Alastor’s fingers tightened slightly around the stem of his drink. He leaned forward, determined to regain the conversational thread. “Well, I imagine few could match the grandeur of your gatherings, Lucifer. Tell me, do you—”

“Yeah, but I’ll bet none of ‘em had Angel on the pole!” Angel cackled, tipping his glass toward Lucifer. “You ever throw a party where a spider demon steals the spotlight?”

Lucifer laughed, shaking his head. “That’s certainly a unique image.”

“I’ve got a whole routine I can show you later,” Angel teased, ignoring Husk’s groan.

Alastor’s jaw twitched, though his grin remained fixed. “Ahem, as I was saying—”

“Alastor,” Vaggie snapped, cutting him off. “Can’t you let someone else talk for two minutes?”

Charlie, ever the peacemaker, gave an awkward laugh. “Oh, come on, Vaggie, Alastor doesn’t mean anything by it!”

But Alastor didn’t respond to her. His eyes were focused entirely on Lucifer, who had shifted his attention to Niffty, currently chattering about the club’s history.

The deer demon sank back in his chair, his shoulders stiff despite the nonchalant air he projected. His usual confidence felt hollow, his attempts to capture Lucifer’s attention crumbling under the weight of the group’s chatter.

“Well,” Alastor muttered under his breath, his grin faltering again, “this is proving to be a most invigorating evening.”

He reached for his drink, sipping the rich liquor in silence, his crimson gaze lingering on Lucifer. The King of Hell hadn’t even noticed.

For the rest of the group, the night was a blur of drinks, laughter, and chaos. But for Alastor, the evening felt like a radio station stuck on static. All he could do was sit there, pretending he wasn’t yearning for a moment alone with the one person in the room who seemed entirely out of reach.

Ten Likes = Continue

[lavendermin]

disasterology | boothill

boothill x reader, mad scientist reader

wc | 1.7k

genre | light banter, ambiguous relationship

warnings | nsfw, artificial cyborg guts, suggestive, body horror, love bug (literally via data transfer), mentions of giving boothill a womb, boothill bluescreens

note | my piece as part of the autumn festival collab hosted by @owlespresso ^^ I’ll probably make a part two to this to squeeze in more banter and get some actual freaky stuff in

“You’re back at my lab… A little soon, no?” The question is thrown at Boothill without a spared glance as you are engrossed in several tasks at once. The Galaxy Ranger makes his way over to your mess of screens and tools by your main work desk, his strides reminiscent of someone a little too comfortable in your bubble.

“Annual checkup. Don’t tell me you forgot already, doc?” Boothill teases with feigned hurt, sharp teeth flashing with his playful grin.

“Not a doctor,” you correct him flatly.

A holo-screen appears before his face, stopping him from nearing your concentrated form. A flurry of data scrolls by and a pop-up appears with a few dates.

With a few final taps you swivel toward him and the screen. “According to your record in my data bank, you’re not due for your checkup for another nine weeks,” you state matter-of-factly. With a few taps and a swipe, the screen is gone and you meet Boothill’s gaze for the first time. “So, what’s the actual reason you’re here? Surely not just a friendly visit to the resident witch or whatever they’re calling me these days on this planet.”

“Recent scrap didn’t end too well. Leg’s been acting up.”

Your eyes scan him briefly, humming in thought as you enter new data and access his file.

“I definitely noticed a few new scratches to your outer shell armor,” you note, speaking more to yourself as you log the new data. “I’ll run some tests and analyze further.”

You roll back in your chair near him, gathering a few tools here and there and holding an emesis basin in front of him. Boothill squints at you in confusion, a frown pulling down his lips in a glimmer of dangerous, sharp teeth.

“Here. Spit them out—all the ammo you have. Now.”

His eyes sharpen, but he relents with a grunt. The metal of the bullets hitting the basin is all that fills the silence as you return to some screens and rummage through rows of drawers and drawers that line the walls.

It’s a chaotically organized yet unorganized lab, to say the least.

“There’s an empty box near you. Go ahead and remove all of your outerwear and any other weapons so we can get started,” you instruct as you prepare a table nearby.

Boothill begins to protest. “Doc, it’s just my leg. I don’t need–”

When he turns back to your desk you’re gone from sight. It unnerves him and you appear behind him seemingly from thin air.

“Hey–!”

You plug several chords into a few outlets on his hip. The feeling of the data processing through multiple base drives makes his entire body feel like numbing static courses through it.

Your face is close. Too close.

“Let's get a base-read on what’s going on here for now. I’ll leave the room so you can get undressed if you’re modest like that.” Your eyes flit down and you smirk. “Not like I haven’t seen your full model before.”

His face flushes a bright crimson and he sputters, shoving you away. You laugh out loud, unsettling and loose as you go back to your screens. It’s become more apparent with each visit that you aren’t entirely sound of mind.

“I still wonder why your face flushes red when your synthetic blood is blue. Perhaps I’ll find out today,” you grin, looking up and being met with a metallic click and the barrel of a gun between your eyes.

There’s a fierceness in Boothill’s glare, red cheeks betraying his threat. Though his hand is steady, your monitors signal increased levels of core maintenance and adrenaline. He doesn’t know how to handle your teasing— never will.

“I don’t have time to be yer forkin’ lab rat,” he sneers.

Your expression remains calm, unbothered as a lazy smile makes way to your lips. It’s an irksome sureness that makes the ranger’s eye twitch and teeth grit. Perhaps that’s simply your insanity creeping into him as well.

It draws him in like a moth to a flame. And he convinces himself that he hates it.

“You wouldn’t hurt me.”

“And what makes you think I wouldn’t put a bullet in yer head for crossing me?”

“Plenty of reasons. But really I only need one.”

“Yeah? And what’s that, sweets?” He scoffs, patience running thin.

You gently tap a knuckle over his heart core, the area making a soft metal clank as you do so. Boothill falls silent for a moment as you say nothing more. The mental gears turn a little harder than usual and suddenly his face is hot. Too hot.

“Wh– What– Who ever said I liked ya like that?! A ranger doesn’t get wrapped up in those feelings, ya hear?!”

And you fucking smirk.

“I’m not sure what you’re insinuating. All I meant was that you wouldn’t get rid of your one and only mechanic on this side of the galaxy, would you? Who else would be stupid enough to take all your last minute tuning appointments and repair jobs after reckless battles? You need me, ranger.” You pause and shift your gaze directly at him. “No reason to get so defensive. Unless… you have feelings for me?”

“Negative feelings,” he seethes.

But you’ve seen right through him. It’s an act of pity that you just chuckle and resume your work on diagnosing some of the sensors around his midriff. Still enough to keep the cowboy grumbling and red in the face.

“Feelings nonetheless,” you chuckle under your breath as you swivel back to the flurry of incoming data. “I’ll head to the back to grab a few things I’ll need and see if a few spare parts are lying around that are similar to some of your fractured hip joints. Do not touch anything.”

Once you’re out of sight, Boothill grumbles and removes his hat and jacket. The bright industrial lights only serve to irk him more— never was one to like hospital settings.

It’s a bit more of a predicament when the wires attached to his hip get in the way of removing his bottoms. He clicks his tongue and listens as your fumbling in the distance remains constant.

Whatever. Damn cables are in the way. What is he to do? He yanks them off and removes the last of his articles, shoving them in the box off to the side you left for him.

“Fork me,” he grumbles. There’s an unruly mess of cables on the floor, most of which look the same and range in color. Naturally, none are labeled.

Just his luck.

One of your monitors beeps and a few pop ups come up as the data flow abruptly ends. In a panic, Boothill grabs a red and a black cable and plugs them in. He clicks a few of the pop ups to make them go away and resume whatever they asked. He didn’t have time to read whatever jargon it said, not that he would have understood it anyway.

He’s seated and on the examination table by the time you walk back in with a few boxes stacked in your arms.

A warm hum settles in his core with his data processor kicking in. It’s pleasant, albeit an odd sensation.

You set down the boxes and glance at the screens, humming with thought. The pause is a beat too long and Boothill can only hope you don’t prod. You tap a few things on the screen and approach him with a smile.

“Alright. Pain receptors are off and your maintenance mode is on. Let’s get started.”

—

Only about forty minutes have passed but it’s becoming increasingly clear to Boothill that something is clearly wrong. He’s used to certain processes being shut off while you work on him— that part is normal.

Right now, he can’t seem to take his eyes off you. And you won’t spare him a glance as you work, much too engrossed in his guts— literally. He huffs and you don’t bother looking at him. It pisses him off.

“If you’re feeling discomfort use your words, ranger,” you mutter without missing a beat. “If your pain processors kicked in due to something that went wrong I need to know before you blow up on me.”

Your tug at a particular wire makes him gasp, his grip on the edge of the table warping the metal.

“Fork– Watch it!” His breath shakes with a gasp, face flushed.

“You didn’t exactly come with a manual.”

“Please don’t say that while yer hands are in my guts.”

You snicker, ignoring his glare as you continue to work methodically.

“I could always give you new insides if I mess these up,” you tease smoothly, fingers deeper still in his abdominal cavity. “Would you like it if I gave you a womb?”

Boothill huffs with a shiver as you tug at that same wire again, his back arching slightly off the cold, metal table. His mouth hangs open, unable to say a word. It’s overwhelming, an intense sensation that he feels in every artificial nerve end.

You call his name once more— so sweet and full of concern. The auditory hallucinations have begun from the wrong dataset he hooked himself up to earlier. Your voice in actuality is much more nonchalant than he processes.

“Booth? Ranger? Are you still with me?” You tap his cheek, his eyes darting shakily around the room. Red hearts for irises replace his usual programmed eye setup when he blinks to glance at you. You sigh. “I told you not to touch anything didn’t I?”

“Yer… my soulmate.”

“No,” you deadpan, flicking your wrist to bring up a holo-screen before you. Seems the neuro-processors couldn’t sort the wide range of the artificial emotion dataset and developed a love bug. “Boothill, if you can still understand me beyond the love bug, I’ll be turning on your standby function for a few minutes to finish.”

You’re not sure if he heard you at all, watching as whatever he heard in his bugged brain makes him red in the face and shiver.

Then, he blue-screens and all is quiet after his metal body clangs against the table.

You heave a sigh, a smile still on your lips. “Only your soulmate would put up with a ranger this obtuse.”

[gothamite-rambler]

The Batgirls on their Periods at the Same Time

Context: This is probably some ooc and if that bothers you just scroll on by. It's cool, silly fics like this depicting the batfamily in this manner isn't for everybody but don't leave hate comments if this bothers you. This is posted here because it's more shorter and just feels like it would work here 😊 Oh and I wrote this while on my period. We go through out periods in different ways. The batgirls and batwoman are expys of that and this is how the male members of their family handle it. This is for all my girlie pops that have to deal with this curse. Let's dive in!

Dick (walking over to Barbara): Hey, Barb, you sent me a few angry texts. Did I make you mad about something I'm unaware of?

Barbara (seething): Yes! Remember that triple chocolate cake I had leftover? You’d better buy me a new one!

Barbara deliberately rolled over Dick's foot while muttering an impressive assortment of curse words.

Dick (complaining): Ow! You said I could have it!

Barbara (voice filled with the fury of a thousand angry souls): Lies! Get me a new one, or I'm ignoring you for the rest of the day, including during comms tonight! You greedy ass! Hold off on the sweets, fat ass!

Dick (furrowing his brows, angry): Fat ass? Rude! Jesus over some cake? I'll buy you another one... after I ice my foot. You freakin’ jerk.

Barbara (over her shoulder with a smirk): Cake thief!

Tim silently listened to the argument while he sat at the kitchen table. Dick sat down, rubbing his sore foot.

Tim (confused): Hm... Have the girls been acting… a little on edge lately?

Dick (hesitating): I hadn’t really noticed until my foot became a casualty. What have you seen?

Tim: Barbara seems to be irritated with everything around her and Stephanie has been eerily quiet and distant today, which is unlike her. Bruce asked her if she wanted to patrol a different part of Gotham, and she just growled at him... which is close to how she usually acts.

Dick: Hm… that's odd.

Just then, Stephanie Brown trudged into the kitchen, wearing an oversized shirt and jogger pants, looking like she had just escaped from some form of medieval torture.

Stephanie (almost a whisper): I’m watching cat videos. Don’t bother me and let Duke know I'm really sorry for the many hurtful words I said.

Tim (coolly while stirring his tea): He said it's fine and he'll return in a few days.

Stephanie nodded with an understanding 'mm-hm'.

Stephanie: Oh and tell Bruce I’m covering the other part of town tonight, just need to be wrapped in blanket for next few hours.

Tim (nodding): You got it, bestie.

Stephanie grunted a 'thank you' and shuffled out of the kitchen.

Tim: She hasn’t snapped at me too much.

Dick (worried): Hm… wait, wait, wait... Duke left? This isn’t the time, is it?

Tim (tilting his head): Time for what?

Dick (leaning in dramatically): No, no, no- Wait, we might be in the clear if Cass and Kate don't have there's.

Tim (looking confused): Have what?

Dick: You poor summer child.

Dick sighed, shaking his head, while Tim shrugged nonchalantly, blissfully unaware of the tale as old as time: period sync-up.

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

Meanwhile, Jason heard a knock at his door. He opened it to find his older sister, Cass, standing there, wringing her hands nervously. She bit her lip, a worried expression on her face.

Cass (waving quickly): Hi, Jason.

Jason: Hey, Cass. Everything okay? You seem stressed.

Cass (bashfully): Do I? Yeah, um, my… Aunt Flo is visiting, my caregiver never took the time to- I hate when she visits, but I need to go to the store for supplies… I don’t want to go alone. You’re the only one I trust to take me.

Jason (confused): You don’t have an Aunt Flo, and what supplies do you need to meet her?

Cass (frowning): Oh… oh dear, you don't get it. Um, my crimson tide… has arrived?

Jason: Crimson… what now?

Cass (losing patience): My period is on! I need to buy tampons or pads before I bleed and ruin my sheets again! I'm literally wearing the last tampon, Selina is on vacation-

Jason (covering her mouth): All right, got it! The message is crystal clear now. Okay, stand there, I’ll grab my keys.

As Jason went to his living room to get his backpack, Cass stepped inside, surprised he’d actually agreed to take her to the store.

Cass: Wait, you’re not… weirded out by this?

Jason: I’m friends with Artemis. I’ve seen things, it makes me squeamish at times, but that might be because I've never went through it... thank God. Austen can keep watch while I'm gone.

Austen the cat meowed to confirm that as he rested in a carboard box.

Jason (heading outside): Now let’s get you those supplies.

Cass clapped eagerly, following Jason to his car, clearly relieved.

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

Back at Wayne Manor, Dick waited for his father to pick up while Tim sat in perplexed silence.

Dick (calling Bruce): Bruce, are the girls on their periods?

Tim (gasping dramatically): Oh, that’s what it is!

Dick (clearly irritated): Jesus Christ, Tim. Duke figured it out!

Tim (defending himself): I've been distracted lately.

Bruce (calm): Hm… that explains why Stephanie snapped at me and why Barbara cussed me out… I’m a little too familiar with that sort of thing. I don't blame Duke for taking a week off, he texted me earlier about that. So yes, they definitely are. Cass is probably on board for that ride too. Women can sync up with their menstrual cycles like a well-oiled machine.

Kate's laughter could be heard in the background along with Bruce groaning.

Tim (stammering): How does he-- Bruce, how do you know that?

Bruce (slightly uncomfortable): Selina is very informative… and Harley is a treasure trove of knowledge. Trust me, you learn a thing or two. Just go easy on them, and they won’t bite your head off. You didn’t do anything to tick them off, did you?

Dick (ice pack firmly planted on his foot): ... I may have done something to make Babs upset.

Tim (grinning proudly): I have not, so I’m doing good!

Bruce: Well, like I said, don’t do anything else stupid, Dick.

Dick: I’ll try not to.

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

With that, Bruce ended the call, sighed, and turned to his cousin Kate, aka Batwoman, who sat in the passenger seat with her arms crossed and a smirk on her face.

Bruce: And then there’s you.

Kate (coolly): Yeah, just going to ignore me? No mention of the four-way sync-up?

Bruce: I’m ignoring a lot right now especially involving you. I’m a master at many things—women syncing menstrual cycles is not one of them.

Kate (nodding sagely): Trust me, women don’t get it either.

Bruce: Let’s at least get you your monthly period supplies.

Kate (squirming): Could you not call it that?

Bruce (mockingly): Could you be actually prepared next time and not drag me out of work?

Kate (swiping her hand like a cat): Ooh, catty? Maybe you’re on your month as well.

Bruce (chuckling dryly): You’re hilarious, let me tell ya.

Kate: I cope with humor. Now get out of the car. Also, you’re buying me lunch today.

Bruce (sardonic): Oh, fantastic. I definitely wanted to treat you while you’re on your period. Now, let’s get your supplies before you fashion a makeshift cape out of my car seat.

[shini--chan]

Hi can we get pre1945 Germany headcanon?

Sure you can, will be doing this from 1850 - 1945. For some more context - I see Ludwig being the personification of the German Confederation, and then becoming the German Empire when the former was dissolved.

On a note - Nazi rule was worse than many pop history books show, so don't be surprised that the last few paragraphs are very dark. 

Yandere Germany - Timeline

Trigger warnings: imperialism, colonialism, stalking, fascism, war, coercion, torture, death

1850 - 1866: As a fresh adult, he would be young and hungry and so eager to prove himself. One of the first courses of action would be to apply for a university and join a fraternity. Ludwig would use his participation in the March revolutions to get in easily. During the day it would be sport and lecture, at night it would be beer and swords and philosophy. Feuerbach, Hegel, Stauß - he would have read them all and be able to cite them in his sleep. During this time, he would have the temperament of a young stallion and all the teenage rebellion. While the March revolutions may have failed, a successful revolution would be inevitable in his eyes.

Those same qualities would be applied to you. You would just be so charming and pretty in his eyes, that he would have to have you. Poems would be written in your honour, and he would make allusions to you in his essays. Almost every cliche in the book would be ticked off and he wouldn't take no for an answer. Slap him in the face if you want, he would just admire your passion and take it as a sign to try harder. You'd start to find him popping up wherever you go, and he would have friends keeping tabs on you. Maybe Austria would entertain his obsession and help him along in order to assert more influence over him. 

1866 - 1871: This would be a time of turbulence for Ludwig. Wars would rage in every direction of the compass and he would be removed from Austria’s sphere of influence and placed firmly in Prussia's. The latter would handle him with a hard hard and Germany would become harsher towards you. Simultaneously, he would also be more desperate. During these rough years, he would yearn for stability and comfort. Sure, he would find glory in war and romanticise it to the extreme. Still many of the till-then stable structures would collapse, and he would be adrift. 

Let him lay his head on your lap, will you? During this time, he would be far more indulgent of your wishes and needs, just in exchange for the occasional coddling. However, the tides could quickly turn and he would become violent and strict. This would especially be the case if you try to leave him, or if Gilbert threatens to take you away. It would either be schoolmaster punishments or military detentions that he would subject you to. Most likely, he would be subjected to such a punishment by Gilbert and then try it out on you. This would also be the periode where he'd discover the darker side of his sexuaity, so watch out!

1871 - 1914: The Empire is founded. There is the addicting rush of power and the hunger for more. These are the years of scientific discovery and expansion, of establishing colonies and industrialisation. This Ludwig is confident and aggressive and wealthy, and he would try to use all these factors to lure you to him. That being said, he isn't above having all your belongings packed and you and them moved to his home. Should he be feeling particularly magnanimous, then he would give you some forewarning. 

He'd lavish you with the spoils of imperialism and colonialism. You'll like it, you'll have to like it because he says so. Generally, he would have a fixed image of how your relationship is supposed to be and force you to adhere to it. You'd live in a gilded cage and have to dance the choreographed dances that he requests. Largely, Ludwig wouldn't view you as an Independent person, but as an accessory to his own life. Other suitors of yours would end up pickled in formaldehyde or as an attraction at the local zoo. 

1914-1919: The assassination of the Habsburg heir is the straw that breaks the camel's back. Europe erupts into war and drags the rest of the world with it. Ludwig would go to the front, with promises to be home by Christmas and take you for romantic strolls down the Seine. However, the war would drag on for years. There would be officers stationed to keep you in check, and each letter that you'd write to Ludwig would be revised and censored. And you would be forced to write, ideally with passages of your undying love for him and swoon about his bravery. The higher-up would have you do this to keep his morale up. No need for distractions caused by trouble in paradise. 

From time to time, he would be rotated out of the field and spend every possible second with you. He'd cling to you like a leech and be just as draining. Furthermore, he would demand your affections without taking no for an answer, sometimes even going as far as to have his way with you in your sleep. Due to the stresses of the war and later on the famine caused by the British blockade and the long winters, he would be all the quicker to anger. If you had the feeling of walking on eggshells before, this feeling would worsen. 

1919-1933: Defeat and humiliation and the Treaty of Versailles. He would curse everybody under the sun except himself. Before he would give you up, he would hide you and silence you. Should you be taken away from him, then he might even lose his composure and behave like a mourner at a pharaoh's funeral. In the case that he would be seperated from you then he would be ever restless and constantly simmer in resentment. No matter how he would be, you wouldn't be there and it would prevent him from fully relaxing. Retrieving you would top the list of his personal objectives that he would try to realise in the 30s/40s. 

In the case that he would keep you - he would constantly be haunted by the suspicion that you'd leave him at the drop of the hat. All his dreams of glory have been crushed, leaving him weak. Surely you'd be disgusted and leave as soon as you can. Thus, he might end up chaining you to the bed or restricting you to a room. Matters might get better during the Roaring 20s, with him even dragging you out to party. Ludwig would have mixed feelings about letting you work - on one hand, work builds character and on the other hand it would mean that you would have less time for him. Besides, he wouldn't really want you developing a social circle that doesn't include him. 

With the Great Depression would come an interesting phase in your relationship. Since nobody could really help you and because you would need your own support group, you would be stuck with him. Ludwig would know this and rub it in your face. Nevertheless, with the external pressures he would mostly be in a bad mood and he would let it out on you. As the economic situation would improve, he would become more even tempered and more weary of you leaving. 

1933-1945: The Nazis would plant delusions of grandeur in Germany's head. The anthem of a cherry picked history and a destiny akin to a biblical mythos would entice his romantic heart. Suddenly, everything that went wrong wouldn't be his fault anymore - how could it be, if he is the epitome of humanity. All their poison sweet words would go to his head. Ludwig would become more confident, more self-assured and arrogant, more entitled. You would be allowed to go out more because everybody that would matter would know that you belong to him. 

He would subscribe to the pipe dream of a ethno-nationalist world order and all the glory they would promise him of an empire lasting a millenia. Perhaps you would fit seamlessly in here, having Aryan features, or those of one of the “higher” races. Then he would tote you around as a trophy and the two of you would be toted around for propaganda purposes. Smile for the camera! Or you would be deemed as “sub-human”, and Ludwig would describe you as a toy in order to keep. Of course, he could squirrel you away into his cellar or a cabin in the woods if you're Jewish or Slavic, and harshly punish you for seducing him. 

It would become even worse during the Second World War. To him, you would be but a plaything, an alternative to pervitin to keep him motivated and energetic. Here, he would prefer to always have you close by, so he would even take you to the front. If his opponents for your affection would be German or otherwise Aryan, then they would be sent to the Russian Front during the later years of the war, or would be visited by the Gestapo. Particular pesky ones would land in a concentration camp; the same would happen if they are “lesser” humans. That, or they and their whole community would be shot. That same fate could visit your family and friends if you don’t bow to his wishes. 

As he would lose the war, his sanity would slip. The Soviets to the east and the Anglos to the west, and the Nazis in the Fatherland - it would be a recipe for disaster. During his worst moments, he would blame you for his defeat. Then he would fall back to delusions of the Endsieg brought on by some miracle. However, eventually reality would sink in and he would indulge himself in his most debauched desires with you. Best party like there is no tomorrow, because as far as he would be concerned, there wouldn't be. 

Summary: Ludwig before 1945 would be arrogant to a fault, and prone to blaming others when things would go wrong. At times he would be more self-reflective and honest about his mistakes, other times he would have people around him that would enable his scapegoating. You would be an extension of him, or a pretty face that would complete his fairy tale life. Prone to idealism, he would ascribe roles for you to play and chide you when you would step out of line. Leaving wouldn't be an option - you would live and die at his command. 

[j2h5b5]

When Derek walked in to find Stiles handcuffed to a kitchen chair, he stopped in his tracks and just stared for a few moments. Stiles stared back, his expression defeated, his eyes showing the kind of exhaustion that's unique to someone who has spent a whole day chasing after two hyperactive six-year-old werewolf boys the night before a full moon. Derek felt a growl rising in his throat and fought it down. "Where are they?" he asked instead, keeping his tone carefully neutral.

Stiles sighed. "I would wager they're holed up in the playroom Mario-Karting their asses off since I grounded them from it for the day." He pointedly jingled the bracelet encircling his wrist, which was attached to one of the slats along the backrest of the chair. "Can you...?"

Derek scanned the kitchen and saw the key resting on the counter next to the microwave. He made quick work of unlocking his husband, who immediately began massaging his wrist as Derek leaned in to plant a somewhat distracted kiss on his lips. "Don't worry, I'll handle this," he said.

"Derek."

This had been a point of contention for them in recent weeks, as their adopted sons' behavior had escalated from minor mischief to potentially dangerous hijinks. It was a good sign, Stiles insisted, an indication that after almost seven months of being in their care, the boys were feeling comfortable enough to misbehave. Derek wholeheartedly disagreed, believing that laying down the law was not only important but necessary, lest they end up with uncontrollable twin monsters.

And that was easy enough for him, as the boys had a natural healthy respect for the Alpha, viewing him with undisguised awe and obeying his instructions at least seven times out of ten. (And the other three times, they regretted it but quick.) For Stiles, the average was one in ten, and usually the obedience was coincidental, not intentional. It was depressing him, and, more, it was putting undue stress on their relationship.

"I was handling it!" Stiles had protested one day two weeks ago, when Derek had walked in to see both boys jumping gleefully on their beautiful black leather sectional, blond curls bouncing chaotically as Stiles repeatedly (and unsuccessfully) grabbed for flailing appendages he could use to pull them back to solid ground.

"It didn't look good from where I was standing!" Derek protested. "You're way too easy on them, Stiles."

And true, all it took was one Alpha growl from Derek to snap them to attention, a command to "Get down NOW" and five minutes facing the wall in separate corners before they were sniffling and full of contrition and apologies. Stiles didn't want to be jealous of his husband's far superior child-wrangling abilities, but he was. And it was becoming quite a sore subject.

So now, at Stiles's one-word objection, Derek took a deep breath and a step back, gesturing for Stiles to lead the way to the playroom. He could just be backup, he figured, maybe flashing Alpha eyes at the adorable brats from behind Stiles’s shoulder. But Stiles stopped him from following by placing a hand on his chest. "They'll never take me seriously if you're always bad cop," he said.

It was important. To Stiles, to the boys. To their family. Derek raised his hands in surrender. "I'm here if you need me," he said, and Stiles leaned in for a real kiss before Derek headed back to the living room to perch on the couch and listen from afar.

And what he heard was truly impressive. Stiles was stern. He was authoritative. He confiscated the contraband video game. He doled out early bedtimes as a consequence. He explained in no uncertain terms why their behavior was unacceptable and what would happen if they didn't start following the rules. He didn't even raise his voice. The three of them emerged ten minutes later, one twin in Stiles's arms and the other clinging to his shirttail, both of them looking sufficiently chastised.

Derek raised a questioning eyebrow at Stiles, who was clearly trying to suppress a smirk. "We're all good now," he reassured, knowing full well that Derek had listened to most of the exchange. "But Oliver has a question for you."

The twin at Stiles's side looked at Derek with wide blue eyes and said, "Why do you have handcuffs in the drawer next to your bed?"

[misettemisette]

Starting over in Madrid

Hey, I'm back after having my account terminated. I'm starting to repost my fanfic Starting over in Madrid episode by episode. I've done minor corrections, mostly vocabulary, scenario temporality and pictures that weren't working well.

Feel free to read or reread it and gave me your feedback. We can't say it enough but we, writers, love feedback <3

Chapter 1 ➺  A harder job than I thought

Summary : After moving to Madrid as the new Real Madrid photographer, Nicky's eyes can't look away from the pretty face of Misa Rodriguez. But how is she going to handle her growing desire for the Canarian goalkeeper when her working contract's strictly forbidding her to date players?  1K words TW : None

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧ 

I was never really interested in football before getting employed at Real Madrid. Of course, I used to watch a few games on TV during the main championships. But I had never intended to work for a football club, least of all, in Spain. But here I was, late twenty, speaking a few words of Spanish, entering the Cuidad Real Madrid for day one of my new job as the new official photographer.

Introductions went well. Staff was nice. Work seemed interesting, with quite a lot to do on the creative side. I felt great. My office was located on the second floor on the west side of the building, a bit appart from the training grounds. I took time to settle a few minutes in my chair, gazed through the window at the Alfredo di Stefano stadium and saw the tiny silhouettes of the footballers training. My manager, Ana, came to have me introduced to the girls and I quickly grabbed my camera to followed her to the pitch. 

The winter sun, cold but bright, blinded me as I came out. My eyes took a moment to ajuste, shouts of trainers and players echoing all around. There were far more people than I expected, making me feel intimidated but Ana didn’t let me time to relax. She talked with some guys to interrupt training and the players slowly came toward us. They gathered around us, some of them still panting when Ana spoke again. 

"Hello everyone, let me introduce you our new photographer Y/N. But you can call her Nicky as she likes it better." 

"Hi, I never liked my name" I said nervously. 

The girls stared at me, some of them friendly smiling. I couldn’t help but noticed their muscular arms and thighs. Strength oozed from their bodies. There were pretty faces among them too. Ana told me the name of each players. The last one, a very tanned girl was looking away, looking slightly bored. 

"And finally, this is Misa", she said pointing at her. Misa looked at me, her dark eyes rested on my face just a moment while she quickly waved her hand in a welcoming gesture before she looked away again. She was really pretty and I felt my face grew hot. I was a professional photographer. It was explicitly written in my employment contract that dating the team members was prohibited. I shook away my inappropriate feelings as the introducing part ended.

A few days passed as I settled in my new life. I had found in a tiny appartement in Lavapies. Got everything I needed. I was rather happy to start over. I had quitted my toxic ex girlfriend a few months ago and my very boring previous job. Each day, I went to the pitch to film the team arriving and to take pictures of the footballers training in order to post on the social networks. They all seemed nice, thought some of them looked bothered to be photographed all the time. Linda, Naomi, Sofie and Hayley clearly enjoyed being in front of the camera while Ivana, Olga and Misa tried to avoid it most of the time. We chatted very little, everyone focused on their respective work. 

***

Then, arrived the day of the brand new kits big photoshoot. It was a very busy day. Adidas had designed a specific set with a moss background and real plants around. It was a bit to much for my taste but I didn’t had my word to say as the campagne was managed by the brand. I was assisting the Adidas photographer by giving pose instructions to the girls. I took some shoots too. 

We were shooting for nearly five hours when came Misa’s turn. I couldn’t say I didn’t noticed how attractive she was in her new pale purple kit. Her tan skin contrasted frankly with the fabric. She had a piercing on her left nostril I’d never seen before. Her long hair was taken down, falling on her broad shoulders. She took her place, clearly used to being a model.

"Misa, face the camera" I said. Her dark eyes crossed mine before she looked straight at the camera and composed a smile. I could tell she was feeling confident, but I wasn’t sure she really was enjoying it. "Switch to profile, please". "Strike a pose". "Now put your gloves on". Misa obediently took all the poses shots after shots. 

"Are we done ?" She asked, looking at me patiently. 

"I think we are thank you. Thanks god you’re the last one !" 

"I find it long already, so I can’t imagine how it must be for you." She said, her brows frowning. She walked aside from the set. I started to put away the equipment next to her. "It’s okay, I like my job. Today is just a bit repetitive"

"Are we cool models ?" I looked up at her. Her face was relaxing since the photoshoot ended. A shy smile appeared on her lips as she suddenly seemed to think her question was embarrassing. 

"In fact yes, indeed. Like, as a photographer, there is everything to ajuste. When you’re training, you’re moving fast so I have to increase shutter speed. When you’re posing like today, shutter can be slower but you have to have good exposure…" My voice trailed off as I took a glimpse of her perplex expression. "Sorry I have never known how to talk about my job. You see, technic plays a huge part in photography." 

"Don’t worry, I haven’t a clue of what you are taking about but it actually got me interested." She was smiling frankly now and that made her ever more beautiful. I tried to focus one folding the spotlights back in there bags. "Those lights make you very warm and sweaty" she said. "I’ll go change. See you Nicky." 

“Bye Misa.”

I was feeling both disappointed by her departure and relieved to be able to finish tidying thinks up more serenely when I heard Misa’s embarrassed voice rise from the backroom. "Hum… please can someone help me?"

I dropped the camera I was packing and went there thinking that fucking day would never end. I suppressed a laugh when I saw Misa struggling with her jersey up her head. The collar was picked up somewhere around her nose. I forced myself to look away from her well shaped abs and the low-cut of her sports bra.

"Misa, it’s Nicky, what’s happening ?" 

"The jersey… in my nose ring. I can’t take it off !"

"Hold still, I’do it."

I slowly came closer to Misa and delicately hold the jersey’s collar while looking for where her piercing had gotten stuck. A fabric fiber had indeed been taken inside the small golden ring. I tried hard to concentrate. Her mouth was twitching nervously. I was so close to her face I could feel her breath. She pursed her luscious lips as I finally removed the string, let out a sight and took off the jersey. Her eyes met mine again while I took a step back. "Thanks, I thought I’d lose my nose on this one…" 

"You did well to ask for help, you could have hurt yourself." 

"I’m glad it was you and not some random Adidas guy, all my friends are gone by now." 

"Anytime !" I shrugged, feeling hot again. She gathered her clothes and started taking off her shorts. Footballers really weren’t modest. I turned around, ready to leave. I felt I was unable to take anymore glances at Misa’s body parts. "Bye then" I said softy.

"Bye, and Nicky, you definitely have to teach me some photo stuff! I’m serious." I slowly turned back to her. She had already put her trousers and T shirt on. "Yes, sure… after tomorrow’s training if you’d like." 

"Yeah, count on me ", she gathered her stuff, gestured goodbye and left. 

My job was turning out to be harder than I expected.

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧ 

[live-laugh-legolas]

I was reading this post by @just-a-little-cellist and I was inspired to do something similar but with the fellowship

I’ve done a few more specific mental health hc’s but this is just their general relationship with mental health as opposed to how they handle others with something specific if that makes sense

Also I’m not trying to diagnose any characters; you shouldn’t make assumptions about others, these are just my hcs for some version of the characters, whether canon or not, we will never know

The Fellowship and mental health

Aragorn:

-He is very knowledgeable about different mental health disorders

-Very quick to pick up on it

-I don’t imagine him having any personal experience with any of it though

-I could imagine him having ADHD as a kid and although it doesn’t just go away he has learned to mask it incredibly well

-He has mixed thoughts on medication; he’s not against it but he personally won’t take anything

Legolas:

-I think elves are a split bunch

-Their knowledge of mental health is scattered

-Elves are not shy with feelings but I don’t imagine them having many problems when not in a time of grief

-And I think Legolas was especially sheltered from any mental health discussions

-Maybe the woodland elves are less open to the idea since I think Elrond knows everything about mental disorders

-A cultural difference I suppose

-He loves learning though so he will ask lots of questions

Gimli:

-Dwarves are not strangers to troubled mental health

-They are openly emotional and expressive

-But they don’t put names to it; the idea of disorders is not in their nature

-Like they will openly discuss having trouble but don’t tell them they have depression or something

Boromir:

-I could totally see him having anxiety that he’s learned to suppress because his father is a dickhead

-He knows about the more common disorders and is very supportive

-He doesn’t always understand and sometimes he accidentally comes across as dismissive

-I’ve mentioned before that I kinda picture him to be similar to Arthur from BBC’s Merlin (but when he learns to be a bit nicer lol)

-He’s trying his best; he needs a little patience to learn is all

Frodo:

-He reads a lot so I don’t think he’s any stranger

-I think PTSD from the events in LOTR is the first time personally experiencing neurodivergence though

-Bilbo’s definitely got a pinch of something but I couldn’t tell you what

-So he doesn’t really question anyone; he’s kinda like “well, if I meet someone quirkier than my uncle it will be a wondrous day”

Sam:

-I think he’s pretty naive to mental disorders

-Not because he doesn’t want to learn; but he just doesn’t know better

-He may be a bit judgmental at first

-Like I could imagine him making a comment like “what’s up with them?” kind of thing

-But he truly doesn’t mean to be offensive

-He doesn’t branch out much from the people and things he knows so anything new is strange

-But he will be so supportive and will never live down his own regret for saying something even slightly offensive

Merry:

-He knows every disorder, every sign and symptom, and everything to actually have the disorder

-Like this guy has read every version of the DSM

-He finds it fascinating how people’s brains work so differently

-He totally thinks he can diagnose people though; which isn’t great Merry

Pippin:

-Literally doesn’t care

-And I mean he doesn’t judge and it doesn’t change how he thinks of someone

-It’s just kinda like “yeah they do that sometimes; it’s part of their charm”

-Will stim with someone absentmindedly; he is just inherently a copy cat

Gandalf:

-Obviously he knows all the shit and doesn’t discriminate against anyone

-Violently protective if someone makes an inconsiderate, presumptuous, or offensive comment

-Gives kind advice if someone is struggling; but he won’t be overbearing or draw a lot of attention to it

-Ik for some people it is part of their identity and he respects that, but he isn’t going to make jokes or anything (like example: a majority of my friends, which isn’t a lot tbh, are autistic and I joke with them that clearly I have ✨a type✨)

———————————————————————

I personally have my own struggles and experience with my own mental health but I am not the most educated despite this. I know my own diagnoses pretty well but it’s only a small amount compared to the vast number of different disorders.

If anything in here is written in a way that is offensive please let me know; I try my best but it’s entirely possible I am blinded to certain things

Anyway love everyone and I hope you all are doing well :)

[cautotelic]

Chapter 2: Friend or Foe?

Ambessa Medarda x Reader

Synopsis: When you get taken away from your home land and thrown into the palace of the infamous warlord, will things be as bad as they first seemed?

TWs: past abuse, blood, violence

A/N: this is definitely longer then the last chapter but I love my war crimes committing, questionably older wife:))

“Again,” I instruct the warriors. They go to the drill again, doing one on one with the techniques that I taught them. I walk amongst the pairs on the training mats, stopping to critique when needed before moving on to the next. After a few minutes of letting them spar I bring them to a stop.

“Okay, you’ve proven to be able to handle yourself in combat with each other. Now lets see how you manage against a legionnaire,” I announce with a quirked up eyebrow.

I look over to the guard overseeing my training hours. With a look of urgency he takes off running down the corridor. I click the timer on my watch. “New guy, huh?” I say motioning towards where he just took off running. “Well I don’t have all day people, who wants to go?”

“I will,” a voice says from behind me. I turn around and see it’s one of the female warriors. Nodding her way in acknowledgment, she tips her head to me.

Before I know it she’s surging forward quickly, but I’m quicker. I easily turn out of her path and she goes stumbling on the mat where my body once was. I bring my staff to the floor and lean on it slightly. “Is that all you’ve got? I expected more from someone under the Generals command,” I mock yawn.

That riles her up and she’s back on her feet. Again she comes at me head on but this time drawing her twin battle blades. With the possibility of injury on the line, I focus more on the fight. I deflect her attacks using my staff being both agile and quick. I go to block one of her overhead attacks and fail to notice her other arm coming down to take a low blow. A stinging sensation blooms just under my rib cage and I hiss. Looking down at my watch. 2:45, 2:46, 2:47. I only have a little while longer.

I grab the arm that sliced me and I tug her close before twisting our bodies so that we fall. Her back hits the mat and I’m on her. Using my staff I press it down onto her throat. I feel cool steel against my neck and freeze. I look the girl in the eyes and know that neither of us will be conceding anytime soon.

“Exactly what is going on here?” A familiar voice booms. The warriors part way for Ambessa to walk through, Rictus not too far behind. I get off of my sparring partner and help her to her feet.

“General,” the woman lowers her head in respect. “I can explain this I-“

“I thought I made myself very clear when saying no one is to lay hands on her,” she interrupts as she begins to stalk over to the warrior.

I get in between the two and shove Ambessa in the shoulder with my staff. “Hey, if you want to punish someone, punish me. I’m the one who told them to fight with me.”

I watch Ambessa roll her shoulders back and press her tongue on the inside of her cheek before looking down at me. “This doesn’t concern you, get out of my way,” she orders as she tries to push past me, but I hold my ground. She looks down at me clearly irritated.

“Well I guess you're just going to have to make me because I’m not letting her get punished,” I say as I point to the warrior. “For something I did.” I take a second to look around and see that all of her warriors have backed up and are now watching this whole interaction.

Ambessa looks behind me at the female warrior with a glare. “Everyone, out,” she orders and the sound of shuffling footsteps fills the room. Once everyone is cleared out she stalks up to me. “‘Make you’, huh?” She says in a condescending tone.

I crane my neck slightly to look up at her. “Yes, ‘make me’ because god knows how many times I’ve been punished because of someone elses faults,” I state as I jab my finger into her chest. “So… if you want to punish someone, punish me. Right here, right now.” I say as I take a few steps away from her, holding my staff at the ready.

Ambessa looks at me and I can’t tell if she wants to kill me or…. well kill me. She looks me up and down. “Your bleeding,” she points out as she motions to my stomach.

“Scared of blood, General?” I ask.

She huffs as she goes to grab her weapon of choice from the weapons rack. Twin daggers, great. “Hardly. Although you might be considering you don’t even have a real weapon,” she insults.

“I refuse to draw blood in a sparring match but,” circling me she goes out of my frame of view. “I see that isn’t the case here.”

I sink down to the floor as I watch her arm swing where my head was a second ago. I extend my leg out and swing it behind me, hoping to knock her off her feet. I hear a solid thud behind me and I’m immediately on her. Climbing on top of her I straddle her waist as I pick up her daggers and throw them across the room. While I was too busy focusing on the dagger, Ambessa took the opportunity to wrap her hands around both of my arms. I struggle in her hold as she pulls me down to look at her.

“You will not win this fight- stop fucking moving,” she demands coldly as she glares up at me. “For over a month you have been a thorn in my side and I expect nothing but obedience from you of all people.”

“Sorry to disappoint, General. But I’m not gonna be one of your obedient bitches you keep on a tight rein.”

That pisses her OFF.

She pulls me down to her chest and twists me around so that my back is to her front. Her arm comes around and wraps around my neck and she starts squeezing. I claw at her arm as I gasp for air to no avail.

“Let this be a lesson. Don’t let it happen again,” she murmurs in my ear before releasing me. My hand goes to my neck as I cough, inhaling deep breaths. I watch as Ambessa walks out of the training arena, disappearing into the hallway.

•••

The sun has just set on the horizon. I watch as the guards make their rounds outside as I sit perched in the window seat. Deciding I’m hungry, I pad over to the door of the room, opening it slowly. The hallway outside is eerily quiet. With a furrow in my brows I summon a newt and release it to let it creep down the hall silently. A few minutes go by in silence before it returns to me, scurrying down the hall. It climbs its way up my body until it reaches my shoulder where it perches itself.

“Well? What is it?” I ask calmly. The newt makes a quiet chirp sound before biting down on my hair and tugging. “Okay, okay I’ll go check it out…. Sheesh.”

I walk down the hallway and round the corner. All the lanterns in the hallway are out which is unusual because they are always on. Being cautious I continue down the hallway when all of a sudden I’m grabbed by someone. I go to let out a scream but a thick hand comes to cover my mouth. I struggle in my captor's arms but they are too strong.

Out of nowhere another person, wearing a mask that covers the lower part of their face, comes and binds my hands together. With my mouth covered by tape, the two intruders hog carry me through the halls and out of the palace into the gardens. I rub my mouth against my arm and am able to remove the tape from my mouth.

“Help!” I yell as loud as I can. The people quickly drop me and climb on top of me trying to put the piece of tape back.

“Shut her up,” the bigger one hissed as he looked around anxiously.

“Get off of me,” I say as I try to kick my feet out from under the smaller guy who’s on top of me.

The dudes attempt to put the tape back are halted. When he goes still I look up at him quizzical before he slumps on top of me, dead with an arrow sticking out of his back. I look in the direction of where it came from and almost sigh in relief. Ambessa.

She has a cross bow and steps out into the snow, it crunching beneath her feet. “Why didn’t you stay put, child?” She asks, running a hand down her face. The other intruder I watch from the corner of my eyes starts to slowly back away from us. Ambessa without looking raises her crossbow and shoots him, her eyes never straying from mine.

I shrug. “Free will.” She helps me stand up and takes out a knife to cut through the ropes on my hands. As she does I look out towards the edge of the palace property where the clean cut land turns to overgrowing forests. I turn my attention back to Ambessa but I can’t stop glancing back at it with a bad feeling in my stomach.

“Someone’s out there,” I say quietly just loud enough for her to hear me.

“Hm? What are you talking about?”

“There's someone, a lot of someone’s, past the tree line,” I repeat. When I say that it’s like a stampede as 15 or 20 people come running out of the trees armed at the ready. Out of nowhere, some of Ambessa’s soldiers come charging towards them. The two groups clash and fighting ensues.

The intruders start dropping like flies but the warriors are severely outnumbered. Ambessa joins in the fighting and I’m left to watch. I watch as more and more of the warriors start to fall and realize why. The opponent is using sorcery. I take off running towards the fight and quickly turn into a shadow myself. I move swiftly and silently through the masses of people, returning back to my physical form to kill the intruders before shadowing and moving on to the next.

In less than 2 minutes I’ve decimated all of them. I return back to my physical form, covered from head to toe in blood. I look down at my watch and stop the timer with a shaky hand.

I went over my time limit, completely exerting myself.

I watch as the Noxian soldiers dust themselves off and as Ambessa finishes off her last intruder. She looks over at me with both shock and intrigue. What she doesn’t notice is the lone straggler aiming a spear at her back. Using all that’s left of my energy, I throw my arm up and erect a wall behind her.

The spear deflects off of it, clattering to the ground. I sway on my feet and feel myself falling, my body going limp. My breathing is shallow. I watch as Ambessa breaks someone’s neck. I blink and she’s kneeling beside me. I blink and suddenly I’m being carried inside. When I close my eyes I don’t open them again.

••• The smell of eucalyptus and a rubbing sensation of my arm brings me to. Slowly opening my eyes the first thing I notice is that I’m in a bathtub. Second, I’m not alone. I go to sit up.

“Don’t even think about it, you’ve done enough today,” I hear Ambessa say from behind me.

Looking down I see that my bindings and my underwear are still on. I also note the murkiness of the water. Despite how much I want to get away from her, I can’t bring myself to get up because of how much my body aches.

I go to move and groan. Ambessa sighs and gently readjusts me into a more comfortable position. “Oh how stubborn you are,” she mutters as she runs the washcloth over the back of my neck.

I don’t say anything and neither does she. We sit in silence. As she cleans me her touch is tender but firm. For the first time in years, I’m being taken care of instead of being left to lick my own wounds. Why? What does she want from me? Everyone always has ulterior motives for stuff like this, right?

“Your tense,” she notes as her hands run over my shoulders.

“Why are you doing this, Ambessa?” I question, my voice coming out raspy.

I can tell this takes her aback as her movements on my body halt. “What do you mean, child?”

I huff. “I mean,” I say as I once again try to sit up from laying back on her and I hiss. “Why are you sitting in dirty bath water cleaning blood off me?”

Ambessa’s brows furrowed together and her eyes softened at my pain. “Is it so hard to believe I care for you to some degree?” She states calmly.

I chuckle. “Kind of. I mean I guess not, I’m surprised you haven’t killed me yet with how much I’ve been a pain.”

Her laugh reverberates in her chest and my body feels warm. “Trust me, I think about doing it more than you’d think.” I know she’s talking about killing me but the way she said it, makes my mind go back to our encounter in the kitchen. “Do you do that often?”

“Do what?”

“The turning into a shadow thing,”

“Growing up I never really had a choice,” I admit as I try to relax in Ambessa’s hold. “I didn’t like doing it though. I end up like this and…never exactly had anyone to do this for me. So thank you.”

“Anytime.” We both stay silent as she finishes cleaning me up. When she’s finished she gets herself out of the tub and I sneak glances as she wraps herself in a towel. I can’t tell if I’m sad or relieved that she was also wearing some kind of covering.

She comes over to me, moves my arm to wrap around her neck, and lifts me out of the tub. The movement causes me to whimper. “Forgive me, little one. I have to put you down to dry you off, can you stand?”

I nod. She places me down on my feet and I wobble slightly, her arm is there to steady me. Holding eye contact with me, she lowers herself down to my level, places my hands on her shoulders and starts drying me off. “I can dry myself off. You don’t need to-“

“No you can’t and you're right, I don’t need to do this, but I want to. So stand still.”

For once I listen to her.

She dries me off making sure every inch of my body is dry. Leaving me to lean against the bathroom counter for a moment she goes and gets me some clothes, before leaving me to get dressed. I change my underwear and take off my bindings before dressing in the clothes she brought me: a loose fitted top and lounge pants.

Once I’m dressed I use the wall to keep myself up as I make my way to the door. When I open it I’m startled at Ambessa standing right there. “I see the clothes fit.”

I hum in acknowledgment. “Can you take me to my room now?” I ask anxiously, not trusting myself in such close proximity to her.

She appears to be mulling it over for a second. “No.”

“Why?”

“Seeing as you can’t even walk without being supported, you're staying in here.” She says with finality in her voice.

I look at her dumbfounded. “I don’t want to stay here.”

She leans in close to my face. “Frankly, I don’t care what you want,” she admits as she scoops me into her arms.

“Ambessa, put me down,” I protested.

“Stop squirming, you’re going to hurt yourself more,” she states as she places me down on what I assume is her bed.

I roll my eyes. “I don’t even sleep so being in here is pointless.”

Ambessa ignores me as she goes to sit at her desk in the corner of the room and begin writing on some papers. Now that I’m sitting on it, this bed is very comfortable. The pillows and blankets make it seem even more inviting. After the events of today, I am exhausted so I lay down covering myself with the comforter.

•••

Unbeknownst to you, Ambessa quietly watches you drift off to sleep. She would never admit to it, but having you against her chest in the bathroom had her heart pounding. Ever since you’d arrived she couldn’t keep you out of her mind. Suddenly filled with the urge to take care of and provide for you. Every time she was reminded of you father and what you’d been through, she was filled with rage that made her want to break their agreement and go to war. Never would she think of putting her own children through harm so… why would he?

She’s brought out of her thoughts when she hears you groan. At first she thinks it’s your body aches and that you're probably just moving in your sleep. But when she looks at you, you're not moving. In fact you haven't moved from that position in the hour that you’ve been asleep.

Standing up from her desk she makes her way over to you, concern written on her face. She takes a knee beside the bed taking note of your labored breathing despite being asleep and the furrow in your brows. Her hand comes up and gently caresses your cheek, her other hand rubs at the tension between your brows. Slowly your face relaxes and your breathing evens out.

Even though you're fine now Ambessa sits and stares at you for a moment before getting up and going to the other side of the bed, laying on top of the covers.

[soobchwe]

beam me up —⋆˚࿔ 𝚌𝚜𝚋

SFW version of my fic posted here on @heechwe .ᐟ ୨୧ pairing: choi soobin x fem!reader ୨୧ word count: 1.9k ୨୧ genre: lots of fluff, smidges of comedy ୨୧ tags: parents!au, married!au, established relationship!au, pet names (love, bunny, baby, etc), down bad soobin essentially. ୨୧ synopsis: Going out after having a baby should be a breeze. So what if you don't feel incredibly confident? So what if you both act like awkward teenagers on your first date? It's you and Soobin, and that's all that matters. ➸ bless my pals @lovetaroandtaemin, @xomakara, and @heesuncore for reading this behemoth ilysm

Why am I so nervous? You think to yourself as you swipe the mauve shade in your hand across your bottom lip. Its light pigment prevents staining, yet provides noticeable definition, just enough to stand out. Your hair is in a low bun, two stray bangs falling over your cheeks. With your makeup and floral midi dress, you feel confident enough to step out and leave the house without becoming riddled with anxious thoughts.

The demands of motherhood have been hefty, but you clean up well. And despite all the dirty diapers and staying awake pumping, you’re ready to spend one night simply as Soobin’s wife. Perhaps a night out in town with your husband is exactly what you both need after three months of being parents.

It’s been picture perfect, without question. Minyoung has her father‘s pout when she sleeps, your long eyelashes, and the softness of a human being well beyond her years. But, you can’t deny that you miss the days where it was just you and Soobin in your own bubble.

Perhaps tonight, you can discover a balance where your old and new life blend harmoniously.

You step out into the living room to see Soobin with his mother, your daughter asleep in her grandmother’s arms. Soobin holds a laundry list of instructions in one hand and her car-seat in the other, waving his hands in frantic motions. “She usually naps like this for about two hours, but if she sleeps more, that’s even better. And then—“

Soobin stops short and looks back at you when he senses your presence. Your in-law and husband stare at you in disbelief. The frayed edges of your appearance from a few hours ago are nowhere to be seen.

Soobin looks at you like you hang the moon. His smile is small in the presence of his mother, him trying to maintain some semblance of modesty, but it’s ‌electric. “You look beautiful.” He sets the car-seat down on the floor to free his hand, reaching it out for you to take.

You do it gladly, smiling from ear to ear. Soobin also cleans up well, his button up tucked in his cargo pants. He’s always dressed a bit like a dad in training, and now he fits the bill‌. “You don’t look too bad yourself, Binnie.”

His face turns a shade of pink at the nickname, unable to hide your effect on him. He turns back to his mother and refers to the paper in his hand. “If you need something that isn’t in her diaper bag, please‌—“

“Soobin, I can handle it. Just spend the night with your lovely wife.” His mother winks at you and takes the car seat from him. “I promise to bring her back in the morning in one piece.”

You and Soobin kiss the top of Minyoung’s soft head and say your goodbyes, both of your hearts clenching. It’s the first time you’ve been apart from her for more than an hour or two, so the prospect is daunting, at the very least. “Be good for grandma, lil’ bun,” Soobin whispers to her sleeping figure.

When your mother-in-law leaves, Soobin looks back at you with a mixture of excitement, anxiety, and desire. “Ready to go?”

You nod, sharing the same concoction of emotions. Most importantly, though, you’re relieved to finally have some alone time together. Wherever the night takes you is anyone’s guess. “Definitely.”

You both sit at the table in the restaurant like it’s your first date. Uncertain about what to expect once the meal ends, full of nerves and anticipation.

Soobin finds it hard to make eye contact with you, his eyes moving across the entire room. He can’t help it when you look so beautiful. You always do, but tonight is different. He’s been so stuck in the haze of being a new dad, it’s like he’s seeing you clearly again. Now, he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

You’ve been married for half a decade, ‌yet every time he sees you, he falls deeper. It’s the first time for him every second he gets to touch you, kiss you, tell you how much you matter to him.

With a child, his feelings have only amplified. He looks at Minyoung some mornings and sees all the features he loves about you and vice versa in one human, his pride as great as his love.

But, instead of revealing he’s in the throes of intense admiration for you in the small Italian restaurant, he turns his focus back to the menu in his hands and looks over the wine list.

The appetizer you shared a few minutes ago has made him thirsty for some alcohol, it seems. “I know you have water, but do you want some Pinot, too? Oh! They have Moscato! I know that’s your favorite.”

It’s the way his eyes light up and his mouth curves into that signature O that makes you giggle‌, unable to contain it.

“What’s so funny?” Soobin looks up from his menu with mirth.

“Nothing at all, Binnie. I’m just happy.”

Your chest pinches at his soft reaction to your words, him looking over his menu at you with bright eyes.

Soobin has always been a goofball, intentionally or not, but it’s what makes him the best partner, among his many qualities. He knows when to be serious, taking the reins when necessary, but he’s well-versed in lightening the mood when you need it.

It’s surreal sometimes thinking about how you lucked out.

Suddenly, your thoughts cease thanks to the rising discomfort from your breasts. It started as an unnoticeable pinch when you gave your drink and light food order, but now it’s full-on pain erupting in your chest.

Why is it so uncomfortable?

You feel the droplets of milk settling into the fabric of your dress, your question answered in a flash.

The impending concern rises on Soobin’s face when he notices your scrunched-up brows and mouth. Then, he sees the two small wet patches forming on your chest. Immediately, he shucks off his jean jacket to give you. “Here baby, take this.”

A deep blush forms on your cheeks when you cover up with his garment. You’re unsure how to broach the subject or the rest of dinner in this state, immediately self-conscious. “I’m sorry. This is so embarrassing, I—”

“Baby, no. Don’t be sorry, it’s normal.” Soobin says the words with so much empathy, you could cry from that alone. You excuse yourself to use the bathroom and clean yourself up, not listening to the words that leave his lips in rapid succession. You’re a mom. It happens to every mom at some point! I love you!

Soobin feels useless, knowing no words he says will assuage your shame. He decides now is as good of a time as any to check up on Minyoung. It’s been almost three hours since he’s talked to his mother.

When the line rings, Soobin doesn’t let it bother him. Minyoung probably needed a burping or night-time bath. No big deal.

By the second unsuccessful attempt at contact, his heart drops into his stomach. What if something’s wrong? As he tries to call for the third and fourth time, his thoughts spiral further.

What if his mother rushed out with Minyoung and she forgot to bring her cell because it was so serious? He knows babies usually are out of the woods for colic by the third or fourth month, but anything’s possible, right?

Parental anxiety is one thing, a feeling Soobin knows well by now, but his instincts are usually spot-on. And something has to be going on if his mother isn’t getting back to him.

You trot over to the table, tucking Soobin’s jacket tighter around your chest so it doesn’t flap open. The event may have been embarrassing at the moment, but you’re ready to get the night back on track and focus on your husband.

You smile eagerly, not noticing the way Soobin’s face has gone stark white. “I think I got most of it, but—“

“We have to go. Something’s wrong.”

You don’t think twice, practically stealing Soobin’s keys from his pocket when he stands up. The two of you race out of the restaurant and to your little girl, your thoughts newly scrambled in the worst ways.

Soobin tries to knock on his parents’ door without slamming his fist against the wood, but he can’t help it. So many scenarios have built up in his head since his intuition kicked in. He could barely say one word on the drive to his mother’s. The silence was palpable in the air, both of your bodies filled to the brim with fear and regret for leaving her for one second.

Soobin’s mother answers the door with a shocked expression. “Honey, what are you two—“

Soobin barrels past her and into the house. You follow hot on his heels. His pace is quick, his voice loud as he calls out Minyoung’s name like she’s able to answer him back.

Then, you find Minyoung perfectly content. Soobin’s dad has her in his arms at the dinner table, feeding her a bottle of milk. “Hey, kids. Why are you here?”

Soobin stutters when he responds. “M-Mom wasn’t answering and we—“

“Oh, lord.” You hear her deep groan pervade the small kitchen. “You left the restaurant for that?”

“What were we supposed to think?” Your words are full of defense, lighthearted now that you’re not in panic mode. Were your worst thoughts so unexpected? You felt bad enough leaving your daughter alone with people you trusted just for a night of solitude. If something worse had happened, the guilt would’ve been too much to bear.

Soobin rushes over to Minyoung and takes her from his father’s arms. Droplets of milk spill from her lips, but she doesn’t care. She reaches up to touch Soobin, her little nails gliding across his face. “Daddy’s here, Minnie.” He presses his forehead to hers, smiling proudly. “I’m right here.”

You tear up at the image in front of you, relieved to see your baby girl out of harm’s way. Even if the harm was entirely imaginary, you’re calmer nonetheless.

Soobin walks towards you and kisses the crown of your head. “Sorry I pulled a false alarm, baby.”

Although you’ll never tell him, you don’t mind that he did so. He’s an incredible husband and father, always on alert for the two of you and putting his needs to the wayside. You have to remind him every day to also think of himself, and he appreciates you looking out for him in the same fashion.

You shake your head and move Minyoung from Soobin’s arms to yours. You kiss her chubby cheeks and she coos at the attention, the spitting image of her father. “Daddy is gonna be the death of me, isn’t he, baby girl?”

Soobin chuckles into your hair and holds onto one of Minyoung’s fists with his palm. “Not if I can help it.”

“Now that you both have made sure she’s okay, go back to your date night!” Your mother-in-law strides into the dining room to pluck Minyoung from your grip. Minyoung is more than comfortable with it, smiling widely into her grandmother’s neck. “It’s rude enough that you both interrupted your dinner time and ours.” She turns to speak directly to Minyoung. “Right, sweetie? How dare they!”

You share another laugh with Soobin, tucking your face into his neck. Parenthood may not be the breeziest role, but with Soobin at your side, you believe with all of your heart that it’s one of the best adventures you’ll ever go on together.

@yvnempire @sjylouvre @mini-mews @jayparked @heesuncore @yoursjaeyun @sungbeams @jenoslutie @loserlvrss @pars-ley @lovetaroandtaemin @wonwovy

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 ౨ৎ˚₊

@kstrucknet @k-films @kvanity-main @moadiarynet @sweetvenomnet @onedoornet @lapydiaries @sayxonet @violetanet @svthub @whipped-kpop-creators

[sissylittlefeather]

If I Can Dream: Chapter 5

A/N: The next few chapters of this one are going to come fast and furious. We're halfway to the end and the last one will be on Christmas Day. Please keep reading! Need to catch up? Masterlist HERE.

Summary: It's 1975 and Jo Bellamy has been in love with Elvis for 20 years. She doesn't even care that they haven't met yet. All she needs is a chance and she's determined to get one

But Elvis doesn't feel much like Elvis anymore. What happened to the man he used to be? He's pretty sure he's long gone.

Can a chance encounter with Jo change the ill-fated trajectory of his life?

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, no smut in this one but Jo does get into some pretty heavy topics. She describes her trauma history and lightly (and I mean lightly) touches on a history of verbal abuse from her dad, sexual abuse from an ex-boyfriend, and feeling suicidal as a teenager. Some of these things are real for me, so I tried to handle them delicately in a way that wouldn't be triggering, but I need to mention them anyway.

Word count: ~2.4k

Forever, then. It's right on the tip of his tongue, but he holds it back for some reason. He'll think about that tomorrow. For now, he drifts off to sleep with her in his arms again, perfectly content.

******

On Sunday around 1 in the afternoon, Elvis wakes up to the sound of the shower going. He looks around in the bed for Jo and then puts two and two together. The steam pours out of the bathroom when he pushes the door open.

“You want some company?”

“Shit!” Jo pokes her head out of the shower curtain. “You scared me!”

“I'm sorry, honey. I just missed ya in the bed.”

“Oh, I was trying to shower and be back before you woke up.” He gestures again to the shower.

“Can I join you?” She smiles and opens the curtain, her naked body glistening with the water running down it.

“Absolutely. C’mon, babe.” He smiles as his eyes drift down her body and he whistles.

“You sure you really want this old man?” As he removes his pajamas and drops them on the floor, Jo nods. He steps into the shower and groans when the hot water hits his back. She wraps herself around him and sighs.

“I love this old man.” He kisses the top of her head and holds her tightly.

“He loves you.” They spend the next twenty minutes or so in the shower. He washes her hair and she runs a wet sponge around on his body.

The time together is a blissful escape, but there's something floating around in Elvis's brain that he just can't ignore. Eventually, as they wrap themselves in towels first and then fluffy robes, he has to say something.

“Hey honey?”

“Yeah?”

“Last night in the car, why did you move my hand?” She looks at him strangely.

“When?”

“When you were… suckin’ me… I put my hand on your head and you said 'don't do that.’ Why?” A look of realization crosses Jo's face and she nods. She bites her cuticle for a bit, trying to figure out how to say what she needs to say.

“It's kind of a long story.”

“Well, if you want to tell it, I'm here to listen.” Jo continues to bite her cuticle and then plops down on the bed. She lays down so she doesn't have to look at him while she talks.

“I have to start with my dad. My father was not a nice man, especially when he drank. He never hurt us physically, but his words hurt almost as much. And he yelled. All the time, at me and my mom. I was an only child, so I got the full force of his anger every time.”

“Did he…?”

“Oh, no. Nothing like that. But it set me up to think that's what love looked like. As soon as I started dating, the men I chose were trash. They were always older, mean, angry men who didn't treat me very well.” He takes her hand gently and she squeezes her eyes shut to try to keep the tears from sliding down the sides of her face.

“One of them… well, he liked to be in control, completely.” Elvis nods, thinking of how he used to always be dominant and in charge in the bedroom. “He would… make me go down on him and when I did… well… there's a reason your hand on my head was bad.”

She looks over at him as the tears slide down into her hair. This wasn't a secret she wanted to share, but here it is, on the table for him to see and do with it as he pleases. He holds his arms out for her to crawl into his lap. She does, curling up and leaning into him. He strokes her back affectionately and sits quietly with this information for a bit. Finally, he speaks, but the words feel empty.

“I'm so sorry, honey.”

“It's okay, I'm mostly over it. But that particular thing brings it all back. I can't think I'm losing control of my own body or it gets to me like this.” He holds her face in his hands and kisses her cheek.

“Tink, I promise I'll never do that again. Thank you for tellin’ me.” She nods and kisses his nose. “While we're on the subject of your past, you told me last night that I saved you too.”

She shifts uncomfortably in his lap.

“Yeah?”

“Will you tell me that story?” She looks into his eyes contemplating how it might impact them. But he's going to find out sooner or later. Might as well be now.

“I can't believe I'm about to tell you this. In 1953, my parents split up. Even though my dad was cruel, I was still forced to stay with him sometimes. By the time I was 16, I desperately wanted to make it end. I didn't know how to get out of seeing my dad, but I was desperate. You know how big everything seems when you're 16.”

“Yeah, honey, I remember.” She takes another deep breath and continues.

“Well, Evelyn could tell I was really down. Just when I'd hit the edge of my ability to take what my life was, she forced me to go see this kid play on the back of a truck in a parking lot.”

“No…”

“I fell in love with you that night. And my love for you kept me going even when the worst things were happening to me. Your music was my lifeline. Your movies gave me an escape from my miserable existence. When I had no one else, I knew I had you.” He looks at her incredulously. “I sound insane. God, you probably think I'm crazy.”

“How many shows?”

“Six. Well seven if you count the one where I ran on stage. Three in the fifties, two in Vegas, and one when you were on tour in ‘72.”

“Why didn't you ever try to come talk to me?” He picks up her hand and kisses her knuckles gently.

“I did! I even got kicked out once. But I could never get to you. Fuck, you're probably thinking I'm crazy and trying to figure out how to get away from me-”

“Tink, the only thing I'm thinkin’ right now is that I wish I'd found you in 1955.” She looks up at him, her eyes wide.

“You mean that?”

“With my whole heart. I've needed you for 20 years and didn't even know it.” He moves his fingers up and down her back soothingly.

“You don't think I'm insane?”

“Oh you absolutely are, but not for the reasons you think. I'm glad my music and those terrible movies were a comfort to you. It makes me feel better about making them, honestly. But I wish we'd found each other back then and saved ourselves all the pain.” She shakes her head as he leans in to kiss her cheek.

“No, there's a reason it didn't happen until now. We had to be ready. Think about it, I was so unstable then and you were young and wild. We would've been a recipe for disaster. This is better.” He pulls back and looks at her.

“Honey, you are somethin’ else. I'm so glad I found you.” He holds the side of her face with his hand and presses his forehead against hers. “I love you, Tink. And I don't think I'm ever gonna stop.”

“I love you too, Elvis. So, so much.”

******

After their serious conversation, Jo is ready for an easy day with Elvis and he knows it. They lay in the bed in robes, tangled in each other kissing and tickling and generally acting like young people in love until Jo's stomach growls.

“Oh, Tink, honey are you hungry? I am.” She giggles and her stomach rumbles. He leans over and acts like he's taking bites of her belly, tickling her instead.

“Ah! Yes! I'm hungry!” They both put on fresh pajamas and he takes her downstairs to get something to eat. After that, they lounge in the TV room for a while, not really watching what's on the screens. They spend more time making out like teenagers than anything else. Elvis thinks to himself that he should be embarrassed by their behavior, he is 40 years old after all, but he can't find it in himself to do so. He's so happy with Jo that he's practically giddy. And she's living her literal dream life, so she's not going to stop them from doing what feels natural. Still, as midnight approaches, Jo knows what has to happen. She crawls over into his lap, straddling his thighs again and he wraps his arms around her waist, kissing her neck.

“Elvis, I have to go home.” He pulls back and looks up at her in shock.

“What? Why?” The thought enters his mind that this might be a good thing and give him space to think about what the future of their relationship could possibly be, but his heart feels like it's in a vice.

“I have to work in the morning and I have no clothes here.”

“Honey, we can give Jerry your key and he'll go get some stuff for you.” She smiles and kisses his cheek gently.

“As nice as that sounds, I don't really want Jerry touching my panties. Do you?” He darkens a bit.

“No. I don't.”

“Exactly. I need to go home. I also need to sleep tonight and something tells me if I stay, that won't happen.” He nods and looks down, holding both of her hands in his. The thought of being without her makes his chest hurt. “I'll come back, though, if that's what you want.”

He puts his hand on the side of her face and his eyes search hers for a second.

“Are we kidding ourselves, honey?”

“What do you mean?” Her heart beats faster and it feels like she can hear her pulse in her ears.

“Maybe we should just see this for what it was. I have a career and a daughter and an ex wife and you… I just don't think you'd enjoy the fucking wild ride that my life is. You deserve someone stable, who'll marry you and give you children. I'm never gonna not be Elvis Presley.” She stares at him with her eyes wide and wet.

“I know that. I love you-”

“I love you too, Jo, but maybe this was just a beautiful weekend that we'll never forget.” His voice catches on the last part.

“You don't call me Jo. Elvis, what's happening?!”

“I'm just trying to save us both from the inevitable pain of how this ends.” She stands up off his lap and shakes her head.

“No, you're ending it before it starts. I want to know why.” He sighs deeply. How can he tell her that he's afraid? “You said things to me, Elvis.”

“I know, honey, and I'm sorry but I'm just not-”

“Not what?!”

“Not who you think I am.” The tears that have been threatening to spill out of her eyes finally do and slide down her cheeks.

“Then who are you, Elvis?” He shakes his head and looks at the floor.

“I dunno. But not the kind of man you need.”

“Elvis, look at me.” He reluctantly lifts his chin. “You're the man I want.”

He sits there silently staring up at her. He's torn between pulling her back down into his lap and asking her to marry him and telling her she should leave and never come back.

“Elvis… Do you not want this? Do you not want me?” More silence. He wants her so badly that it hurts, but something makes him hold back and leave everything unsaid. “How can you do this?”

“Jo, I don't know. You make me crazy. And I-I said a bunch of stuff that I shouldn't have. But now that I'm thinking clearly-”

“This is thinking clearly?! Elvis, why don't you just admit that I scare the shit out of you because what we have is real? Why can't you just say that?” His mouth pops open for a bit and then he closes it. How did she know?

“I’m not scared.”

“Bullshit.” She turns and runs up the stairs. He tries to follow her, but she's too fast. When he finally catches up to her, he's winded and she's gathering all of her stuff in the bedroom, which isn't much. He stands in the doorway watching and trying to catch his breath as she pulls off the pajamas and puts her dress back on.

“Jo, please.” She stops and turns to face him with one shoe on.

“I'm not doing this back and forth thing with you, Elvis. I'm too old. I have loved you for twenty years. Either you want me, or you don't-”

“Why do you get 20 years to decide and I get 5 days?!” Her mouth drops and she stares at him in disbelief. But he's right.

“Has it really only been 5 days?”

“Yes!” Her mouth curls into a tiny smile.

“Well that's just ridiculous.” He tries to suppress a grin.

“Yes! It is ridiculous!” She erupts in a giggle and he tries not to laugh. “I'm trying to be serious here, woman.”

Jo flops on the bed and howls with laughter, tears squeezing out of her eyes.

“5 days!” She croaks out between giggles. He sits next to her on the bed.

“Yes.” He looks down at her, his eyes sparkling as her laughter is finally slowing down. “You're not helping me love you any less.”

“You really love me?”

“Yes, goddamnit, I really do. I'm just not sure how we make this work.” She sits up and kisses his cheek.

“Let me go home tonight and go to work tomorrow. We can talk about it when I come over, if that’s still what you want.”

“Yeah, I think that's good.” He pulls her into his lap and buries his face in her neck. “I just need some time to think, Tink. It don't mean I don't love you.”

“I understand.” She lets him continue to nuzzle her.

“And you're right.” He mumbles into her neck. “But I'm not just scared; I'm fuckin’ terrified.”

“I know. It's okay.” She turns and puts her arms around him, kissing his forehead gently.

******

What happens now?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

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