#I prep the plate so that most of us can eat.

[ninjago-x-lmk]

Kai raised Nya

And what I mean by ‘raised’ I mean: Of course they had babysitters. But Kai is the one who mostly nurtured Nya. Sure the Babysitters and the Village could have been providing for these two, but what about the other needs?

I imagine he was the one who sometimes cooked for her when the other babysitters were busy. The one who probably helped her with homework, helped her with chores, did his and her laundry. We already see that he at least played games with Nya.

Something I usually do with my little sister is not only help prepare her clothes for school but also prep the table so we can both eat. (Sometimes for the entire family) with Nya and Kai obviously leaning towards Asian cultures, usually the older siblings are seen as the Secondary Parents.

So in a way, he DID raise Nya, not in a sense of a ‘parent’ where they provide the needs and support for the child. But in a way that a brother could possibly provide. Love, Care and Respect.

I would also imagine that the Babysitters never really stayed for long since they have their own homes and families to go back to. Especially since both Nya and Kai remark ‘it was just me and my sibling’ cause most of the time It was just Kai and Nya.

That’s just my interpretation on the ‘Kai raised Nya’ thing. It’s more of an elder sibling instinct than a parenting instinct.

[goldfades]

Joe burrow blurb where he gets baby fever seeing reader taking care of his nephews

thanksgiving at the burrow house is exactly what you expected and nothing you expected, all at the same time.

you’d prepped yourself for a cozy, midwestern vibe—homemade pies, mismatched dinnerware, maybe a friendly debate over the best way to make stuffing. and, to be fair, all of that was true. what you didn’t expect was how loud and chaotic it could get, with joe’s cousins piling into the house like it’s a college frat reunion and his mom somehow keeping everyone in line with just a stern look and a well-timed plate of cookies.

you’re in the kitchen with robin, helping her plate the turkey, when you hear joe yell from the living room. “there’s no way you beat me at madden again!”

robin shakes her head, a fond smile on her face. “he’s just mad he’s not the best at everything.”

you laugh, grabbing the mashed potatoes. “i’ll remind him later that humility is a virtue.”

“good luck with that, sweetheart,” robin says, giving you a knowing look.

by the time everyone sits down to eat, the table is overflowing with food, and joe’s already piled his plate high. he’s sitting next to you, of course, his knee bumping against yours under the table every so often like he just can’t help himself.

“so,” one of his uncles says, his fork hovering over the green bean casserole. “when are you two gonna give us some real thanksgiving entertainment and start a family?”

your face heats instantly, and you glance at joe, wide-eyed. but he just leans back in his chair, totally unbothered, a sly grin spreading across his face.

“well, we’ll see,” he says, glancing over at you like he’s enjoying this a little too much. “depends on if i can convince her to name the kid after me.”

“joe jr.,” one of his cousins says, throwing his hands in the air like it’s the obvious choice.

“absolutely not,” you say firmly, stabbing a piece of turkey for emphasis. “we’ve had this discussion.”

the whole table erupts into laughter, and joe just shrugs, clearly enjoying your flustered reaction. “we’ll work on it,” he says, giving you a wink.

despite the teasing, it’s impossible not to feel completely at home. every time someone passes you a dish or asks how you like the stuffing, you’re reminded just how much joe’s family has embraced you as one of their own.

later, when the dishes are done and everyone’s gathered in the living room watching football, joe pulls you onto the couch beside him, tucking you under his arm.

“so,” he murmurs, his voice low enough that only you can hear. “what do you think? could you see us hosting thanksgiving someday? our kids running around, stealing all the rolls?”

you glance up at him, your heart doing that familiar little flip it always does when he looks at you like this—soft and sure, like he already knows the answer.

“maybe,” you say, leaning into him with a smile. “but only if you cook the turkey.”

“deal,” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple. and in that moment, you can’t imagine a future more perfect.

later, joe’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, a small smile tugging at his lips as he watches you sit cross-legged on the living room floor. his nephew, who’s barely two, is perched in your lap, babbling nonsense while you pretend to understand every word like it’s the most important conversation you’ve ever had.

you’re a natural with kids, and it’s obvious. the way you hold his nephew steady while he wobbles trying to stack blocks, the exaggerated gasp you give when the tower falls over, making the little guy burst into giggles.

“oh no! our masterpiece!” you exclaim dramatically, hands to your cheeks, and joe’s nephew dissolves into another fit of laughter.

joe chuckles under his breath, but his heart does this weird little thing it’s been doing more and more lately—this tight, warm ache that leaves him feeling soft in a way he can’t quite explain.

“you’re just gonna stand there, or are you gonna help us rebuild?” you tease, glancing over your shoulder at him.

he steps into the room, crouching beside you. “looks like you’ve got it handled,” he says, nudging your shoulder with his. “you’re a natural.”

“i had a great assistant,” you say, ruffling his nephew’s hair. the toddler immediately grabs your hand, trying to pull it toward the blocks.

joe doesn’t say anything for a moment, just watches the way you interact with his nephew—the way you encourage him to try again, the way you laugh when he tries to stack the biggest block on the tiniest one, the way you look at him like he’s the most amazing kid in the world.

“you’re really good at this,” joe murmurs, his voice softer now.

you glance up at him, a little shy under his gaze. “thanks,” you say, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “kids are fun. exhausting, but fun.”

joe nods, his eyes flicking between you and his nephew, who’s now trying to climb into your lap again. something about the scene makes that warm ache in his chest grow stronger. he doesn’t say it out loud, but the thought’s already rooted itself in his mind: he could picture this. you. with your kid. with his kid.

“what?” you ask, catching the look on his face.

he just shakes his head, a small, almost bashful smile tugging at his lips. “nothing,” he says, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your temple. “just... you’re incredible, that’s all.”

“oh, please,” you say, rolling your eyes, but your smile gives you away.

joe doesn’t press the matter, but later, when his nephew’s napping and you’re curled up beside him on the couch, he’s already imagining what it’d be like to have a little one of your own. and the more he thinks about it, the more he knows he doesn’t just want it—he wants it with you.

[steddieas-shegoes]

a new bottom in town

for @steddieholidaydrabbles pop up event 'anniversary'

rated e | 902 words | cw: references to injury | tags: post-vecna, established relationship, top eddie munson, bottom steve harrington, anal sex

🔃🔃🔃🔃🔃🔃🔃🔃🔃🔃🔃🔃🔃🔃🔃

“Can we try something new?” Steve asks as they finish eating the cheesecake Eddie brought home to celebrate their anniversary.

Six months may not seem like a lot to some, but for Steve and Eddie, it was a major milestone and they wanted to treat it as such. The first four months they spent together was mostly at the hospital while Eddie learned how to walk and talk and eat again.

“Sure, baby. What is it?” Eddie sets his fork down and leans forward so he’s in Steve’s space.

“Um. Could you…could you fuck me?”

Eddie’s heart stops.

Listen, it’s not that he doesn’t want to. If anything, he’s fantasized about doing just that for years.

But he’s still gaining muscle mass back in his legs and abs, and he doesn’t have the stamina he had before the bats took it with their teeth.

“Like…put my…”

“Yeah. I’d really…I’d like you to be inside me.”

Eddie’s not sure if he’s dreaming, but this feels like something right out of his best fantasy. He’s just a little hesitant because, well, he doesn’t want to be a disappointment. Their sex life is great as it is, and changing it up now, especially before Eddie’s back to full health, may put everything to a screeching halt.

“It’s fine if you don’t want to.” Steve continues when Eddie doesn’t answer. “I’m good with fucking you if you prefer that.”

“No! No, Stevie. I want to. Trust me.” Eddie gives a self-deprecating laugh. “I’m just not sure I can?”

Steve seems to realize what he’s worried about quickly, nodding like he understands. But after a few seconds, he’s smiling.

“I could ride you?”

Eddie’s definitely dead and somehow he got into heaven or hell is a lot nicer than people led him to believe.

“You would wanna ride my dick? Like, while I do nothing?” Eddie asks for clarification.

“I mean, I’m sure you could do something. But yeah. I could do most of the work,” Steve shrugs like this is not life-changing to Eddie.

“You want me inside of you that bad?”

“Yeah. It’s kinda all I’ve been thinking about for a while,” Steve flushes as he scoots his fork along his empty plate.

“And you think this is a gift for you?”

“It’s a gift for both of us.”

“Then let’s get upstairs, sweetheart.”

Steve’s head snaps up, his eyes bright with desire and excitement. “Really?”

“It’s not exactly a big ask of me to lay in bed and let you ride my dick, baby.”

Steve is out of the room before Eddie’s even up from his chair. Eddie laughs as he follows him, much slower, but finally able to go without the cane around the house. He doesn’t really mind it, but it’s nice to feel more independent without it for something like this.

By the time he’s in their room, Steve’s naked and pouring lube onto his fingers.

“Damn. Okay. Are we in a rush?” Eddie leans against the doorway and crosses his arms.

“I was gonna prep myself so you could watch.”

“Steve. Baby. Love of my life.” Eddie walks to the bed and sits down, crossing his legs and leaning his face in his hands. “This is the best gift you’ve ever given me. Continue.”

Steve flushes from his chest to his forehead and Eddie can’t get enough. He resists further interrupting him, though.

He watches Steve lean back against the pillows at an angle, teasing his own hole while Eddie barely bites back a moan. He’s been hard since he walked in the room and saw Steve’s bare ass in the bed, but now he can feel the urgency of needing to lose his clothes and get inside Steve.

Steve’s efficient and Eddie is definitely asking him about how he’s so good at opening himself up later, and within minutes, Steve’s begging for Eddie to lay down.

Eddie gets undressed as quickly as possible and finds a comfortable position against the headboard.

Steve straddles him, lines up his cock, and slides down before Eddie can even process what’s happening.

They moan together, long and loud.

“Fuck, is this how you feel when I’m inside you?” Steve gasps as he lifts himself and drops back down.

“Full? Hot? Tingly?” Steve nods. “Then, yes. Shit, Stevie, you’re so tight. It doesn’t hurt?”

“No, feels so good.” Steve’s head falls back as he finds a slow rhythm, still cautious as he stretches himself further.

Eddie’s hands rest on his hips, not helping, just holding.

“Wanna do this every night,” Steve groans as his pace picks up. “Forever. Can we?”

“Baby, if I wake up and this wasn’t a dream, we can do it whenever you want.”

“Touch me.” Steve demands, always so bossy even when he’s getting everything he wants. Eddie touches him because he will always do what Steve asks of him. “Fuck, faster. Yeah, like that.”

When they come less than a minute later, Steve collapses against Eddie, head on his shoulder and arms a deadweight by his sides.

“You okay?” Eddie asks as he rubs his back with one hand.

“So good.” Steve kissed his shoulder. “I’m the bottom now.”

Eddie cackles. “We can take turns.”

“80/20?”

“Okay. Let me get my strength back so I can fuck you properly and we’ll see if you still want that.”

Steve pulls back and smirks. “Where’s your cane?”

[chronicallycouchbound]

Let People On Food Stamps Eat Hot Meals

Particularly on cold, rainy days (like today), while unhoused, sometimes all I want is a hot meal but it’s so difficult (if not impossible) to cook outside in the rain.

On top of this, I’m physically disabled and chronically ill. Medically, I’m supposed to have assistance with making meals as part of in home care. But I can’t get in home care without a home.

I just finished making dinner for my partner and I, it took 2 hours (3 if you include clean up). My knees are burning, my back is aching in it’s core, I feel like I’m about to faint, and all my joints are screaming. But it’s the only way we could have a hot meal today and get some protein, which is vital for our health conditions.

People judge us for using what little funds we have on McDonald’s some days. Because sometimes, it’s the only hot meal we’ve had in days. And sometimes I’m physically unable to stand, move, and do all the actions needed to cook. Or I faint while cooking. Or the rain doesn’t let up. Or we don’t have access to a kitchen for the day. Or the fire danger outside is too high. The list goes on.

Without my own kitchen to use, I don’t get to sit down while I cook (right now, everything is wet from the rain), I can’t meal prep, I can’t stock up on freezer meals, I can’t use an oven or a microwave to reheat leftovers, I can’t just reach across the kitchen for a fridge item (we have a small amount of fridge space friends let us use), everything about cooking is exponentially harder.

And even if I had 24/7 access to an accessible, full kitchen, it’s not even physically safe to cook my own meals. Even then, having a pre-made, hot, ready-to-eat meal could keep me safe and give me independance.

And all the safety needs for hot meals aside, emotionally, hot meals are also life saving and comfort. Meals are a part of community, culture, love and art.

So many gatherings we have as communities center around food. Most people in the United States would think of ones that often hold great value to Western culture. Mother’s Day breakfast. Spaghetti fundraisers. Wedding cakes. Birthday dinners. Bake sales. Carnival treats. BBQs on weekends. Holiday roasts. Lunches with friends. Casseroles brought to grieving neighbors.

Our world revolves around food.

I firmly believe that no poor person could ever “take advantage” of a system designed to feed us by using food stamps on hot food. This restrictive rule serves no purpose but to punish the most vulnerable of poor people— unhoused, disabled, and those of us living in unsafe conditions.

It also serves to restrict our access to joy and comfort. The joy can sometimes come from the food itself, but also the joy from having shared experiences solidified by the sounds of laughter and forks clinking on plates. The comfort can sometimes also be from the food itself, but also the experience of being loved and cared for while your close friend brings you pizza from your favorite restaurant because you lost your drive to eat three weeks ago and they worry about you. They know you. Those slices of pizza bring color back into your world.

Poor people deserve to be able to have the comfort, joy, and care that goes into a hot meal. We deserve the autonomy to choose foods that are best for us ourselves. We deserve to be able to eat in ways that are accessible to us.

Above all, we deserve access to hot meals.

Originally posted to my blog on 6.3.22

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Imagine Shanks turning into a cat

Benn: supposedly the ruins are guarded by some sort of shapeshifting enchanter.

Shanks: I heard that and asked the locals at the bars and the marketplace, and they said there hasn't been a sighting of the creature in a few hundred years. But they all told me that no one has gone up there in a long time because they avoid it.

You: then is it really a good idea to go there?

Shanks: meh, [waggles his hand side to side] We'll probably be fine.

You: ... count me out, I don't want to risk it.

Benn: you'll lose your cut of any treasure we find.

You: that's fine, I'll look after the ship with Hongo while y'all go into the creepy ruins. [watches them leave]

The next morning

You: [wakes up from someone pounding on your door]

Hongo: [yells on the other side of the door] Wake the fuck up! We have an emergency, we need all hands on deck.

You: [follows him up on deck to see the group that went to explore the ruins looking winded, tired, and dirtier than usual.] What on Earth is going on? What happened?

Benn: The villagers were right, we shouldn't have gone there to attempt to claim the treasure.

You: sounds about right

Benn: Although they were wrong about one thing, the sorcerer wasn't a shape-shifter himself. He changes other people's shapes.

You: oh gods, who got changed?

Benn: [pulls a large Somali cat out of his pack and holds him at arm's length.] Guess

You: ... is that... the boss?

Benn: [does that lipless awkward white-people smile and nods his head]

You: [takes the cat into your arms] Is he lucid?

Shanks: [thoroughly enjoying the scratches he's getting, and purring up a storm]

Benn: No idea, he's been like this for only two hours, most of which I spent running. But Yassop and Lucky Roux are in the village looking for anyone to help us, so we'll have more information soon.

Shanks: [meows loudly, and clings to your shoulder when you try to put him down]

Hongo: as a cat, he's a real mama's boy.

An hour later when Yassop and Lucky Roux return

Yassop: So we found the village historian lady, who had some information for us. She said that he is a cat for all intents and purposes. He can understand us, though, which should make it easier. She showed a scroll from three hundred years ago, detailing how a bandit robbed the ruins of its treasures. For which the sorcerer changed him into some animal, forget which one, but that's not the important part. The important part is that to undo the spell, we must take the treasure back to the ruins and put it back where we found it.

Shanks: [decides this is a great time to ask for food, and makes a chewing noise with this mouth to let you know.]

You: [rolls your eyes and puts him down] Not to interrupt, but Lucky, is there any canned chicken in the kitchen?

Lucky Roux: yeah

You: Alright, follow me, captain. [goes into the kitchen and starts prepping his food]

Shanks: [meowing at you and standing up with his front paws on the cabinet door]

You: [meowing back condescendingly] You know what? I hope that old lady was right, and you still understand me, just so you know I'm mocking you.

Shanks: [bites your foot]

You: OW, fuck you [puts the plate of food on the floor and goes back out on deck] soon as that little shit is done eating, take him and the treasure straight back before he has another chance to bite me.

List of Up-and-coming works || Master list || Twitter| Kofi || Patreon

[angstywaifu]

Fourth Wing Boy HC's - Challenges

Prompt - Violet tips you off about your next challenge and it's someone you're really likely to lose to. So how would our boys help you prepare and help with you being nervous and anxious about it? A/N: Sorry for the later than normal post. Currently sick and I completely forgot to schedule this one! I'd say I'm sorry for the last one.... but I'm not. Masterlist

Garrick

As soon as Violet told you about your opponent, Garrick was giving you extra training sessions after classes to prepare you. It became his mission to make sure you had everything you needed to succeed in this challenge.

The night before he would run you through everything he’s taught you. Make sure you’re ready for anything that might be thrown at you from your opponent. He wouldn’t go hard on you though, wanting to make sure you had all your strength for the next day

That night at dinner he’s making sure you eat food that’s going to help you the next day. Give you the energy you need for your challenge. Your plate is full of food, way more than you would normally eat. You go to object but the look he gives you as you holding back your words as well as eating everything on your plate.

After dinner and training is done, he wants to make sure you are super relaxed. You return to your room after showering to Garrick waiting for you. But instead of the usual activities you would be doing in your bed, Garrick just wants you to be relaxed. He’s gotten your favourite warm drink ready, grabbed whatever it is you do to relax, and is ready to give you a massage to relax your muscles for tomorrow. To Garrick this is the most important part of the prep. You need a good nights sleep and he is making sure you get it.

Xaden

Just like Garrick, it becomes his mission to make sure you are prepared and ready for your fight. Even if its not training with him, he would assign someone else to help you. He wants to make sure you have the best training for you.

If he’s not the one training you he is always there though. Providing guidance, pointers and to step in and help out if need be.

The night before at training he can sense how nervous and anxious you are. He notes the way you pick at your nails, play with your hair, how you’re fidgety. If he has someone else training with you he tells them to go.

He would take you somewhere quiet and secluded, just you and him. He would give you the biggest pep talk, pointing out all your strengths and how to use them to your advantage. He would make sure you feel confident in yourself and what you can do. He doesn’t want you going into the challenge with doubts in your mind.

Bodhi

Initially he would be the one more nervous and anxious than you. He would be worried about what could happen due to your opponent being vastly bigger than you.

He would do his best to help you prepare but eventually Garrick or Xaden would tell him to go do something else cause he would start worrying and it would put you off. Which then leads to you becoming nervous and anxious, and then thinking you’re not going to be able to do it.

After Xaden or Garrick gave him a firm talking to about being a nervous mess and putting you off, he would do anything he can to make you feel better. He would pull you aside and tell you how sorry he is for getting in your head and making you doubt yourself and promises to help in anyway he can. He starts taking you on morning runs to clear your head, stretching with you after training and telling you how well you were doing.

The night before he would make sure you two spent all of it together. Just enjoying each others company and making sure you’re relaxed and ready for tomorrow.

Liam

Being the best in your year, Liam immediately jumps into helping you prepare once he sees how nervous and anxious you are.

Unlike Xaden and Garrick, he would talk you through some things you can do first. He’s been watching you fight for months now so he knows exactly how you move and handle yourself. But like Xaden he focuses on your strengths and what you can do to use that to your advantage in the challenge.

Once he gets you on the mat he takes it super slow with you, not wanting to overwhelm you with everything at once. He runs through everything slowly to make sure you understand it all and feel confident in the changes he has suggested.

You wake up the morning off to a small wooden carving on your nightstand with a note in Liam’s handwriting ‘You’ve got this. Go knock em dead. But not literally please.’

Dain (I’m not sorry for the below)

This man would be trying to get you out of the challenge. He would try use rank and name to get that changed ASAP. Just no help at all.

[blackenedsnow]

hello! i wanted to ask if you could write some p2with a baker's s/o headcannons, please?(´。.̫ 。｀)

p2 dude with a baker s/o ; headcanons

WARNING: None

PAIRING: Postal (2) Dude x Reader

NOTE: Thank you for sending this request! It was really fun imagining this. I hope you enjoyed the headcanons as much as I did writing them.

You’re used to finding Dude sneaking into the kitchen at weird hours, rummaging through the baked goods like it’s his personal buffet.

He tries to be stealthy, but you always catch him red-handed, a half-eaten pastry already in his mouth.

His defense?

"It’s not like you’re gonna miss one... or five."

He tries to compliment your baking—though it’s usually in his own, gruff way.

"Damn, this is the only thing in this town that doesn’t taste like shit." Sometimes, Dude will offer to help in the kitchen (if he's in a good mood), usually after a particularly big mess he’s caused.

But instead of kneading dough or frosting cakes, he ends up causing more shit—flour everywhere, bowls knocked over, maybe even an accidental fire or two.

"Well, I sure as hell didn’t sign up for this,"

he mutters, but sticks around to clean up. If you run a bakery in Paradise, you can bet Dude’s always around, making sure no one messes with your shop.

He’s not afraid to get in someone’s face if they try to lowball you or make rude comments.

You usually have to stop him before he gets too carried away, but his heart’s in the right place.

Dude takes his role as your unofficial taste tester very seriously.

Dude will sometimes surprise you with small gestures.

He’ll drop by the store with an empty stomach just so he can sit with you and try your latest recipe.

He really enjoys those moments, sitting in the quiet while you chat over a plate of fresh-baked goods.

He’s damn impressed by how you manage to run your bakery in such a fucked up town.

He’s even more impressed that you’ve managed to stay sane while dealing with him.

If you’re an early riser, busy prepping for the day’s baking, Dude is the complete opposite.

He’ll drag himself into the kitchen, groggy and grumpy, but as soon as he smells something fresh out of the oven, his mood lifts a little.

He’ll grab a cup of coffee and sneak a warm pastry off the counter.

"Don’t mind if I do."

Every now and then, Dude will show up with random ingredients he’s "borrowed" (likely taken from someone who won’t be needing them anymore).

He’ll drop them on the counter like he’s done you some grand favor.

"Got you some supplies. Don’t ask where they came from."

You never ask, but appreciate the gesture.

You could hand Dude the most elaborate cake or a simple loaf of bread, and he’d eat it without question.

[propertyofkylar]

happy valentine’s day - m!kylar x f!pc

cw: breeding kink

You stood outside the manor door, grasping a large tote bag in your hands. It being the middle of February, the weather was still quite unpleasant, so without knocking, you walked right inside.

Almost immediately as you stepped in, you were attacked. A pair of arms wrapped tightly around you and you stiffened in response before realizing it was just your overly-eager boyfriend.

“Kylar,” you squeaked out. “Lemme breathe.”

He apologetically took a half-step back, not letting go of you. Kylar looked up at you, his eyes shining brightly through his bangs. “Sorry! Happy Valentine’s Day! I’m just so excited…” he said sheepishly, and you got the idea that he wasn’t really all that sorry.

You smiled and playfully shook your head, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Kylar practically lit up when you did that, and was about to snuggle into you again before he got distracted by the bag in your hand. “What’s that?”

You lifted the bag in question. “Gonna make you something to eat.”

Growing up in the orphanage, Valentine’s Day had never been more than you and Robin exchanging sweets you had managed to sneak past Bailey. But now, having a boyfriend, you figured you should actually do something. You weren’t able to afford much and still be able to pay Bailey, and while you knew Kylar would be overjoyed no matter what you offered, you still thought the boy deserved something nice.

Kylar lit up even more and practically jumped for joy. “Thank you, my love!”

You couldn’t help but smile even more as the two of you walked into the rarely-used kitchen. “Curry noodles,” you explained as you set the ingredients on the counter. “I figured it’d be like that crap you eat every day, but with actual nutrients and a non-deadly amount of sodium.”

His head rested on your shoulder as his arms wrapped around you from behind. “Anything you make will be delicious.”

“That’s sweet of you to say, and probably not true,” you smiled. “Now I need you to get off me so I can actually cook.”

“Oh!” Kylar withdrew as if he had been shocked. “Presents! I need to give you your presents!” He scrambled out of the room and returned with a large gift bag.

You began prepping the meal as Kylar showered you with a variety of gifts like flowers, heart-shaped boxes of chocolate and more. You opted not to ask where - or rather, how - he had gotten his hands on them.

Making idle chitchat with your sweet (and overbearing boyfriend), the meal quickly came together and it was time to eat. You dished up a plate and slid it in front of Kylar, who was eyeing the meal like he had never seen anything so delicious before.

“Don’t get your hopes up too high, it’s probably not that good,” you warned, but Kylar vigorously shook his head “no.”

“Anything my love makes is the most delicious thing ever!” He proclaimed before taking a bite. Kylar’s face was aglow with joy as he beamed at you. “It’s amazing!”

He quickly dug in for more, and with a chuckle, you began to eat your own helping. Well, it was pretty decent, after all.

You didn’t talk much through dinner - Kylar was unable to speak as he was scarfing down his food and you actually had to ask him to slow down in fear he might choke - and when you two were done, he leaned back in his chair with a satisfied look on his face.

“Thank you, my love,” he said. “Everything you do is perfect. You’re perfect.”

You smiled at the flattery, an eagerness building inside of you as you thought about what was coming next. “That’s not all I have planned.”

Kylar’s eyes widened and his face flushed slightly. Yeah, he had picked up on what you meant. “O-oh?”

Your smirk grew. “It’s time for dessert.”

Without hesitating, Kylar stood from his chair and grabbed your hand, dragging you to his bedroom. He slammed the door behind him, panting a little.

You took your time going to sit on the edge of his bed, feeling Kylar’s eyes on you all the while. He stood by the door, fidgeting with the sleeves of his sweatshirt. Honestly, it was so cute how he still got so nervous when you had sex.

You almost didn’t notice the red rose petals resting atop his bedsheets. The sight of them made you smile. It was a sweet, romantic touch.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Kylar,” you said softly, spreading your legs a little. He could see right up your dress and audibly gulped at the sight of your lacy underwear. “You can do whatever you want to me.”

He blinked repeatedly. “W-whatever I want?”

You nodded. “Whatever you want, baby.”

Kylar sucked in a breath, then nodded. He made his way over to you and tugged at your dress. “Off.”

You stifled a giggle at his forwardness and teasingly took the dress off, revealing the matching bra and panties you had underneath. His eyes roamed your body hungrily and you couldn’t help but blush yourself under the intensity of his stare.

“See, this is what you get when you don’t steal my underwear.”

Kylar frowned. “No teasing,” he said, and pushed you back on the bed so swiftly that you gasped, many of the petals fluttering to the floor.

With his hands pressing on your shoulders, he straddled you, still unable to take his eyes off your body. “So perfect…” he murmured.

Your whole body felt hot as his hands began to move, grabbing and groping various parts of you. You let out a soft whimper, which seemed to awaken something in Kylar.

He brought his mouth right up against your ear, the feeling of his hot breath sending a shiver through your body. “I’m not gonna stop til I’ve put a baby in you.”

Without giving you a chance to react, he slid your panties down and shoved his head between your thighs. He quickly set to work, licking and sucking, and he had you squirming with pleasure within mere moments.

“Fuck, Kylar,” you gasped. He knew your body so well that he was able to lock onto that one spot so quickly.

“You taste so good,” he mumbled against you, and the vibrations of his voice made you shudder.

You cried out as you hit your first climax of the night, and Kylar drew back, a wide grin on his wet face. He clambered back over top of you, tugging off his sweatshirt and t-shirt in one motion.

He kissed you hard and you tasted your own juices on his tongue. “I want you to feel good,” he said, tugging down his pants. A large damp spot was visible on the front of his boxers where his cock was straining against the fabric and he looked up at you sheepishly.

“I can’t help myself,” he muttered, and it made you smile. You sat up to peel down his boxers, revealing his flushed and painfully hard cock that was practically dripping precum. Kylar’s breath hitched as you lightly trailed your fingers down his shaft.

Shaking his head and inhaling deeply, Kylar pushed your shoulders so you were laying flat on the bed. He gently stroked his shaft, lubing up his cock between your folds.

Then, with a slightly crazed look in his eyes, he plunged his cock into you.

Almost immediately, Kylar started whimpering and mumbling, but you couldn't make much of it out other than “ohmygodIloveyousomuch.”

You yelped at the sudden intrusion, but found yourself unable to say anything either.

“Kylar,” you whined, which only inspired Kylar to move his hips faster, relentlessly fucking you as he pressed your legs back, moving you into a mating press.

This new angle had you seeing stars, and already you could feel your second climax approaching.

Kylar was pressing kisses all over your face and neck - anywhere he could reach, basically, all while mumbling under his breath about his love for you and how he would die if he didn’t put a baby in you tonight.

You couldn’t hold it in anymore, and gripped onto Kylar’s shoulders as you came again.

His stuttering hips and erratic breathing signaled that his climax wasn’t far behind. And with a cry, Kylar came inside you, his hands clinging to your waist as he thrust inside you as deeply as possible.

Kylar buried his head in your neck and laid on top of you, your limbs intertwined, and his cock still inside of you. “I love you,” he mumbled against your sweaty skin.

It made you smile. “I love you too,” you replied, and you could feel his own smile grow against your neck.

Wrapping your arms around his back, you held him close as you rested your cheek atop his head, closing your eyes and settling in.

But Kylar had a different idea.

He flipped around so he was on his back and you were on top of him. You could feel him hardening again inside of you already, and the crazed look was back in his eyes.

“Y-you can’t expect to get pregnant from just one load, my love.”

You were in for a long night.

[heartfullofleeches]

How to care for your undead lover.

A funny little blurbo I did about a guide on taking care of ghoul darling/reader.

-

So - wanna bring back your soulmate departed from this world too soon? Wanna take home that cutie from the cemetery? Notice something off about your neighbor and looking for was to impress? Here are a few important tips to know before bringing your undead dear home.

Ghouls in our situation are the undead, but a little different from norm. Not as brainless as zombies nor soulless either. Ghouls are typically tired soul thrust back into its aging body trapped in a never-ending cycle of rot and decay. Their minds and bodies deteriorate at a rapid pace, but there are usually points in which their rotting stops and ways to prevent further deterioration almost entirely.

Like the living, Ghouls need to eat. While they will not die without a meal, Ghouls require sustenance to remain among the living and function as one of their own. Signs of a starving Ghouls are extreme tiredness/trouble staying awake, lose of memory and speech, uncontrollable sobbing, loss in muscle mass and flesh, biting, scratching, and more.

When unable to acquire the flesh that benefits them most - common brain foods are fair alternatives. Fatty fish, Beef, Chicken, Yogurt, Eggs, Leafy Vegetables, Berries. While these work for a time Human meat will always have the longest lasting effect. Many conscious aren't exactly comfortable with eating one of their own - or what used to be. Simply make sure that they aren't in the kitchen during meal prep and dicing the meat finely. Try to avoid wearing the same clothes as when you caught their dinner or the faint smell of blood may raise suspicion. You may notice your ghoul growing beyond typical human height if they are fed regularly and with a balanced diet of human flesh. This is perfectly normal

[Example A]

- A caretaker completely drenched in blood presents a human arm on a plate for their darling. The ghoul frowns - visibly uncomfortable.

Caretaker: Darling~ Time for breakfast!

Ghoul: N...no...

[This is wrong.]

[Example B]

- A well dressed and groomed caretaker presents an omelet stuffed with spinach and "mystery" meat, paired with a small fruit salad. The ghoul smiles

Caretaker: Darling, are you ready for breakfast? If you eat everything off your plate you can have a snack during speech practice.

Ghoul: kay!

[This is correct]

It is not wise to try an force a Ghoul to remember points in time. Their memory will come and go all depending on how well you feed them. Gently reassure them that you are their caretaker and rewards them for easy things like remembering your name. This will make your ghoul happy and more accepting of you. As their mind ails be sure to bath them frequently and stick as closely to their personal grooming routines as you can. It's best to style them the same as pictures closest to when they met their end, but if they express wanting to try a different hairstyles or look do not hesitate to comply. It will be a great bonding experience and staple you as someone they shouldn't forget when they begin to lose their head.

Lastly, be sure to give them lots of love. That's all for now, folks. Til next time.

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 09

PREVIOUS

Thanksgiving dinner really wasn’t that bad. It’d been years since FF had been to one as lively as this.

Kevin is loud and demanding when it comes to what needs to be on the TV and the exact perfect schedule to catch all of the Exy games being played. Wymack brought bourbon and has put it on the highest shelf in Abby’s kitchen right next to where Abby put the second pie for the exact same reason: Keep Andrew out of it. The Monsters and FF all get roped into helping Abby prep the meal.

He’s told that usually there are more people staying over Thanksgiving but this year more had gone home or gone to friend’s homes to celebrate. The only ones there are the Monsters, FF, and Jack.

Jack sits sullenly on the couch no matter what task Abby tries to give him.

Eventually, potatoes are mashed, turkeys are carved with appropriate knives, corn is creamed, macaroni is cheesed, canned cranberries have been de-canned, and the stuffing is…there on the table.

“Dig in!” Abby says not bothering with grace.

It’s good.

FF still misses his grandma’s cooking. It’s nice to have this loud Thanksgiving like he used to get but there’s something special about helping his grandma in the kitchen and the two of them sitting down to eat.

He definitely misses his grandma’s company when Jack starts to loudly complain about every last food item that Abby has so graciously laid out for them.

Wymack & Captain Neill both tell him to knock it off and threaten grueling exercises when practice starts back up while Andrew just threatens him with a knife multiple times to shut him up but FF can see Jack looking in the kitchen as he sits in silence after Andrew not so stealthily held a knife to his ribs.

Jack is looking at his grandma’s pie up on the top shelf.

Jack is going to complain about his grandma’s pie.

He looks at the Monsters and knows that there is only one person at this table who can POSSIBLY stop him is the person that FF fears the most.

Still….

He figures Andrew owes him a final request before he’s murdered in a basement, secondary location or (a new option he thought of on the way over to Abby’s in Andrew’s absurdly nice car), a secondary location’s basement.

“I want you to stop Jack from having any of my grandma’s pie.” He says in German drawing the attention of Aaron, Nicky, and Neil. Andrew blinks at him but says nothing so he continues. “If he says something mean about it then I’ll lose it.” He says.

FF means that if Jack insults his grandma’s pie that she had managed to get to him through some sort of grandmotherly wizardry then FF will burst into tears. He’s got what doctor’s call leaky eyes and there is no cure for these bad boys. He knows he’ll try to defend his grandma’s pie from whatever issue Jack will take with it but he also knows that he will be sobbing during that defense.

Andrew hears that and thinks that he might finally get to witness what FF looks like when he’s angry. From Kevin’s screaming, to Jack’s taunts, to Andrew’s own barbs, he has yet to see FF get mad. FF’s ability to stay in his own lane and regulate his emotions is one of the reasons that Andrew considers him a friend. He thinks about the bags under FF’s eyes and how desolate he had looked staring down at the ‘CANCELLED’ notification on his phone.

Andrew is getting into the art of doing something nice. For a friend.

He gives FF a singular nod and pulls one of his knives out of his arm bands and makes his way over to the pie. He ignores some various questions from the other, irrelevant.

“I want a slice at least!” Nicky demands and he nods as he cuts up the pie into seven normal sized slices. He puts each on a plate and Neil, every understanding of Andrew’s intentions, hands them out to the Monsters, FF, Wymack, and Abby.

“Good, finally get to try this stupid pie.” Jack says and Andrew levels a knife that has an apple slice slowly sliding off of it at Jack’s face.

“People who can’t appreciate the free dinner don’t get to have dessert.” He says and watches as Jack’s face goes through an entire range of emotions, “You saw what I could do to a turkey. I have no problem doing it to you if you try anything.” He says and Jack goes white before he trudges out of the dining area entirely.

Andrew watches him go before picking up the remainder of the pie (nearly a quarter) and making his way over to the fridge.

FF pipes up, “Try it without the ice cream first.” He says because even if he likes his pie à la mode the first bite has to be pure pie.

Andrew shrugs and eats the apple pie filling off of the knife.

It’s immaculate.

It’s the best pie that Andrew has ever tasted in his life and he has tasted some pies.

He has no idea what Jack would have complained about other than the fact that FF had an entire one of these all to himself. This pie had travelled across the continental United States and tasted like this. Andrew can only imagine what it is like when it is coming fresh out of the oven.

He grabs the ice cream from the fridge and watches everyone else try the first bite of FF’s grandma’s pie.

“I want to meet your grandma and shake her hand.” Wymack says eyes closed even as his hand reaches for some bourbon.

“I want to your grandma to adopt me.” Nicky says.

“She can adopt both of us if it means pies like this.” Aaron agrees.

“This is good.” Kevin says as he continues to eat it.

“Really good.” Neil agrees.

“Maybe she could share the recipe with me. I’d love to make this.” Abby says as she drinks a glass of milk.

“Thanks, she’ll be happy to hear it.” FF’s shoulders loosen as he puts away his own slice quickly.

There is some grumbling as Andrew hoards the rest of the pie himself and only gives bites to Neil. “I wonder if we should get the whipped cream out for it?” Neil asks him in Russian.

Andrew frowns and considers it for a long moment, “We have plans for that whipped cream tonight and the stores will be closed.” He says back in the same language. FF has paused in eating the last of his slice. “Problem?” He asks.

“Last bite.” FF responds back immediately and Andrew lets it go unaware that FF had spent 2 seconds wondering how whipped cream would play into whatever torture device Andrew was going to shove him into the second they arrived in Columbia before realizing that it was a sex thing.

He lets his hand go into his pocket and rub the paper of his grandma’s note to him.

It’s not a bad last meal.

NEXT

Per your requests:

@i-have-three-feelings​​ @blep-23​​ @dreamerking27​ @andreilsmyreligion​​ @belodensetdust​​ @rainbowpineapplebottle @yarn-ace​ @iwouldlikesometea @lily-s-world​​ @obscureshipsandchips​​ @booklover242​ @whataboutmyfries​​ @sahturnos​ @pluto-pepsi​ @dreamerthinker​ @passinhosdetartaruga​​ @leftunknownheart​ @aro-manita-muscaria @hologramsaredead​ @Chaoticgremlinswishtheycouldbeme @tntwme​ @tayspots @nick-scar​ @crazy-fangirl2524​ @blue-jos10​ @stabbyfoxandrew​

If you’re tagged, i spelled it right, and it’s not pulling you then you might have:  Conversational notifications turned off in your settings.

[dollsvampi]

Echoes of the Tide

Frank Castle x Reader

Description: Haunted by emotional wounds, only to seek solace in Frank's arms longing for a path to healing. [Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Life, Emotional Vulnerability] (Pet names used: Baby, Darlin') [No use of Y/N]

Warnings: Mentions of Trauma, Familial Dysfunction & Guilt, Emotional Distress. (3.2K words)

A/N: First post ever lol bare with me. I didn't like this sitting in my notes on my phone so why not share

Every once in a while, you reach that breaking point—a moment where everything feels too heavy to bear. A dull, residual numbness settles in, aching deep in your chest. It feels unbearable, as though your mind is trapped in an endless cycle—spinning aimlessly before crashing into an invisible wall, only to start again. You're stuck, caught in a loop with no way out.

Is this what shutting down is?

Only a few words passed between you and those around you it was hard to connect when you didn’t feel like yourself. It was as if you were caught in plunging, rushing water, one foot forward and the other behind, your body twisted mid-motion with arms outstretched, grasping for something to hold onto. You couldn’t take another step; your hips frozen, your body trying but failing to move forward. Instead, you were drowning in an endless tide of swimming thoughts, unable to tear your gaze away from the weight of the past.

No, it wasn't often you felt like this, but it was inevitable feeling overwhelmed and hollow, from the weight of the trauma of it all. Just thinking about or seeing your family can bring on a wave of triggers. Most of the time you check on them and it simply brings dread.

Sitting on one of the kitchen island stools to prep a few things for dinner, your brows are slightly furrowed in concentration. Meanwhile, Frank is polishing and cleaning his guns. He had a direct line of sight of you, studying you cautiously. He noticed each and every little thing about you. "Baby, you alright?" Frank didn't want to push—testing the waters. He didn't want to outright inquire; How come you weren't yourself? How come you didn't strike up a conversation? How come you aren't laughing? How come you aren't playing music?

The poor man thought back to his own actions—had he possibly done something wrong or forgot to do something? Glancing up from the scattered ingredients, you manage a faint smile, "Yeah." He didn’t believe you, but then again, neither did you. Your family, though—they would have, without question.

"I was thinking..." the vigilante, sharp and observant, piqued your curiosity. You hummed in acknowledgment as he went on, "We should eat outside and finally test out that hammock we got."

You thought some fresh air might be nice as you cleaned up the kitchen island, "Sounds good." Frank rose from his seat, heading off to store his guns, but paused. He walked over to you, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, his free hand lightly squeezing your hip, "Alright, I’ll go get started outside."

Once the food was prepared—delicious and fresh—it was carefully arranged in its respective containers and plates, ready for the little backyard feast. Frank quickly cleaned off the table and chairs before setting up the hammock. Propping it up was effortless—it was a sizable design made for two. The framed canvas, adorned with pastel blue stripes, even came with a matching pillow.

It took several trips to retrieve the food, beverages, and utensils. Frank assisted with the final touches of setup, including bringing out the speaker you have. He handed you his phone almost immediately after turning it on and connecting it, "Go on, play music."

You'd shared your playlists with Frank long ago; he knew exactly what music helped you unwind and relax. He needed you to be at ease. With a few taps on his phone, music began to play softly through the speaker, loud enough to fill the atmosphere but quiet enough for conversation. Frank wanted to bring up the subject, but he held back. He knew you well—when you were upset, your appetite was the first to go, which he didn't want. Patience came naturally to him when it came to you, so he decided to wait for now.

Sitting down and fixing each other's plates, you look around the backyard. The hammock was a nice addition, "Hey that hammock is not bad." He hums, as he glances where you are looking, "Easy to install too." Your eyes don't stray from the space as Frank begins to eat, "We really should get some shade, some trees would be nice."

The man was going to town on the food, which brought a smile to your face. "I wanted to put up the canopy tent, but some trees would be nice darlin'," he was subtle in his reasoning. You could definitely use some sunlight with the way things have been. He gestured with his hand, "We can get some smaller ones, and add on to the garden."

Frank is a man who resolved your words were law. As the both of you continue eating, you give it a good thought to how plans should be. "Yeah, maybe a decent-sized one, right at the edge where the small field begins." He followed your eyeliner yet again, "Perfect, anything my baby wants."

Lowering your gaze slightly you shook your head. Whatever he was doing was working, the sweet-talking, the way he had said it with conviction fulling meaning what he had said. The music in the background is a way to ground you. What had been circulating in your mind is distilling. You were now able to talk about what had been going on, you aren't completely shut.

Maybe you caught on—it was a sweet gesture. Yet, your thoughts still lingered on your family… how something so simple could never be accomplished with them.

The two of you finished the rest of your meal in comfortable silence. Your gaze wandered, taking in the surroundings—the chirping of distant birds, the slow drift of fluffy white clouds across the sky. As you closed the lid on the bowl, your focus shifted, flitting between the patches of grass and the outhouse door, until your eyes began to glaze over.

"You haven't said much all day darlin', what's on your mind?" Frank's eyes were steady on you, and you had to get it off your chest. You couldn't tell him that it was nothing. It would be wrong not to. How was he supposed to understand if I kept holding back?

'Secrecy has a way of evolving—sometimes into something different, and other times into something far worse.' Frank had told you, almost in passing, as if it were a lesson learned from his own experiences. He’d seen how secrets, no matter how small or harmless they seemed at first, could twist into something darker over time. He spoke from a place of understanding, the kind born from years of keeping things buried—things he’d witnessed, things he’d done, and the weight it left on him. You knew he wasn’t just talking about others; he was speaking from his own scars.

Taking a deep breath, after so long being submerged you've breached the surface. "It's just- I don't know what to do... or feel with my family," you couldn't settle your eyes on him just yet. "With these people, it's this guilt, the sense of loss and not belonging. The exclusion they do or just the pure disfunction... it's a lot of things Frank."

He could see how it took you a lot to get to voice this, "That's a lot to carry and even worry about." There were brief mentions of what you had endured, and it really did anger Frank because you didn't deserve that.

"I know I've mentioned but all this stress is inevitable especially how they live out their life. At times I do believe I'm the burden. It's-" You do gesture you often make to stop yourself from crying. Frank knew what you were about to say and immediately cut you off. "It's not your fault, baby. Look at me... look at me." He moves his chair to sit closer to you placing a hand on your shoulder. "It's not your fault." You meet his eyes as tears begin to form in yours. "There you are, breath okay."

Frank grounded you as you focused on your breathing, steadying yourself. Finally, you continued, "Every time I check in or see their posts, I just feel like such an outcast. It’s a reminder that I can never truly be myself around them, and if they ever found out, it’d turn into a whole mess." You can practically hear the comments and insensitive remarks.

"Forget about what they might say, baby. Just be yourself." His voice was steady, resolute. He would defend you without hesitation, daring anyone in the world to challenge you or your worth.

"I know, Frank. With the way my family obsesses over their image, it’s almost impossible not to absorb some of it. All they ever do is critique others. Minding their own business is the last thing they’d consider. They love to nitpick, always searching for the smallest reason to argue or stir up drama." As you spoke you could feel the way he was gently squeezing your shoulder, his thumb moving soothingly.

"That’s not on you, though. You don’t have to carry their baggage or let it shape who you are. Let them exhaust themselves with their nonsense—none of it changes the fact that you’re better than that." He shifted slightly, his hand still on your shoulder, and his gaze softened. His movements were slow and deliberate, with a sense of calm assurance.

Culture played an important role, with traditions deeply ingrained across generations, creating an even greater sense of immersion. The idea that some individuals were unwilling to embrace new perspectives, choosing instead to cast others out, was a harsh reality.

You sigh, placing your hand gently over his. "This is why I feel bad. I mean, it's not entirely their fault either. I see how they choose to live their lives. It makes me feel like I should be doing something to help. But their world just revolves around their beliefs."

He says nothing at first, but his hand moves to hold yours, as if he is carefully considering your words. Finally, he speaks in his consistent, no-nonsense tone, "You cannot bear their burdens for 'em. All you can do is make your own decisions, ones that will keep you standing. If they can’t see that, that’s on them, not you." Frank leans in slightly, realizing that you're still torn. "I get it. You're worried about what they'll say or do if you stand your ground. But you cannot continue to live in fear of their judgment. You've already carried enough for them. You have to put yourself first."

His words hit harder than you had expected, sinking in deeper than you wanted to admit. There is natural hesitation, your chest tightening, as if you were in cold harsh water. You try to push down the gnawing feeling of guilt. That fear still lingers, like a shadow you can't outrun.

You glance down at your intertwined hands, resting on your thigh, as if they can offer some relief, and in the rhythm of the music that envelopes the both of you.

You couldn’t help but think about how they’d always handled things—like when your boundaries were crossed, or when your choices didn’t align with theirs. It was never about understanding or compromise, but about control and making sure you fell in line with their beliefs. The idea of standing up to them felt like a storm waiting to break.

"It still eats at me. Every time I see them, it’s like the facade falls into place. We all act like nothing was ever left unsaid—thanks to my parents, I guess. They’re the biggest hypocrites I know." You squeeze Frank’s hand gently. "I was made to believe my problems didn’t matter, that my family had enough on their plate, so why add more? There are things I still don’t know about my own family, things they’ve kept from me. And it makes me wonder—am I even worthy of knowing? Am I not family?"

Frank scoffs, shaking his head. "Christ." He knew that tactic all too well the 'don't say anything to protect either party.' It was a way of keeping everything buried, even if it meant pushing the pain aside. He got an even clearer picture of your constant restraint that kept you from truly speaking your mind. The aftermath of emotional scarring has left its mark, no matter how hard you try to hide it.

Uncertain if Frank would say more, you felt the urge to continue. "I have to force myself into a certain mindset whenever I visit... and prepare for the possible worst, just in case. That's what has been eating at me most of the time, even taking sleep away. It certainly was worse when I was younger."

Frank acted without hesitancy as usual. He was all too familiar with bracing for the impact of something that never felt safe. "You shouldn’t have to do that. No one should have to armor up just to face their own family." He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, his eyes hardening in his seriousness. "But no matter how hard it gets, you don’t have to face it alone. You’ve got me. What did you do to keep your head straight, huh?"

The question brought a faint smile to your face—a real one, the kind that had been absent for far too long. You nodded toward the speaker playing your favorite tunes. "Listening to music. I had to distract myself however I could. Sometimes, I’d read or write down the things I wanted to say but—" You shook your head, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill, your chest tightening at the way he's so close to you, and outright providing you with unwavering warmth.

Frank reached up, cupping your face gently with his free hand. "It’s okay, baby. Let it out if you need." His voice was steady, but his gaze searched yours, piecing together what you’d shared. He could see how writing had been more than a distraction—it was survival. A way to give your thoughts a voice when no one else would listen.

You huffed a bitter laugh. "And that’s when I think—if I could just open my mouth and defend myself... but I never know how to say it right. I wish I really knew how to articulate what I feel to them." Your hand tightened around his wrist, grounding yourself in the comfort of Frank’s steady touch. His thumb brushed gently across your cheek, a silent reassurance that he was there.

You lowered your gaze to your lap, the words catching in your throat as the weight of it all pressed down. Frank’s jaw tightened, his heart sinking at the pain etched across your face. He couldn’t fathom why anyone would put you through this, why they’d leave you carrying such a heavy burden. It wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t right.

The silence was pierced as you dropped your hand from his. "And to be real honest with you, Frank..." your voice trembled, and your lip quivered as you tried to keep it together.

His heart breaking at your vulnerability.

"I—I wouldn’t want you to go through that... to see it happen," your voice cracking under the weight of the admission. Tears welled up, and before you could stop them, a helpless cry escaped your lips. You turned away, trying to hide your face in your hands, but it was too late.

Frank exhaled deeply, closing his eyes for a moment as if willing himself to take your pain away. Then, with the utmost care, he let go of your hand only to pull you into a firm, grounding embrace. "C'mere," he murmured, wrapping his arms tightly around you.

You buried your face in his shoulder as the sobs overtook you, his presence the only thing keeping you from falling apart entirely. One of his hands moved soothingly up and down your back, the occasional pat adding a silent rhythm of comfort. "Let it out, baby," he whispered, pressing the side of his head to yours.

Frank held you as though shielding you from the weight of the world, his jaw tightening as he listened to your cries. It hit him hard—how selfless you were, even in your pain. You’d been so considerate, worrying about how your situation might affect him when you were the one left battered by it all. The thought of you constantly lying, draining yourself to keep the peace, or worse—standing up for yourself only to be torn down again—cut him deeply. "

"'S okay," he said softly, his voice a firm anchor. "I've gotcha baby. 'S okay."

You cried into his arms until the tears subsided, leaving you drained but calmer. Slowly, you regained your composure, sniffling softly as you leaned back to meet his gaze. Frank’s hand was already there, gently wiping away the lingering tears on your cheeks.

"I love you so much," you murmured, your voice still shaky but full of gratitude. You couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by the comfort of having someone like Frank by your side.

"I love you," Frank's tone filled with conviction. His arms tightened around you slightly, pulling you closer as if to shield you from the world. "I’ll always be here for you," he added, pressing a firm, reassuring kiss to your cheek.

The tenderness of his words made your chest ache in the best way, and you fought the urge to cry again—this time out of happiness. Tilting your head back a bit, you let your gaze drift to the yard.

"Ah, shit," you muttered suddenly, catching sight of something.

Frank raised an eyebrow, already poised to ask what was on your mind.

"We really should try out that hammock," you said, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Frank burst into a deep, genuine laugh, the sound rumbling through his chest and catching you off guard. You turned to him, grinning as you joined in his laughter. Before the moment could pass, he leaned in, closing the space between you and placing soft, lingering kisses all over your face, his affection as natural as breathing.

The weight you’d been carrying felt just a little lighter. You couldn’t help but lean into him, letting the laughter fade into a quiet peace. "Let’s go," Frank said softly, his lips brushing your temple before he pulled back, his hand still resting at the small of your back.

Together, you rose, the promise of something simple yet meaningful—like testing out that hammock—feeling like exactly what you needed.

The hammock swayed gently beneath you, cradling you like a soft ripple on calm swift waters. It was steady, unlike the turbulent currents that had once consumed you. Where your mind had felt like it was drowning in endless waves, here was something solid yet pliable—a quiet buoy against the storm.

Frank beside you, his presence like the anchor that helped you beach. The two of you settled into the rhythm of the hammock's sway, the soft creak of its frame blending with the distant chirp of birds. The past felt far away here, as if it couldn’t touch you in this cocoon of stillness and warmth.

For the first time in a long while, the tide in your chest seemed to ebb, leaving behind a strange but welcome calmness.

[thesuperiorrobin]

Hi! I was wondering if you could do a Damian Wayne x Hispanic fem reader, it could be either a headcanon or a one shot.

YES YES 100% YES

I had this my in draft for so long!

This is based off my Hispanic live style bc I know not everyone does it the Same. I’m living my dream quince on here bc I didn’t get to have one 😭

Warning: Errors I’m to lazy to fix 

Edit: for some reason it’s not letting me put one last bullet point on the end so

❥ Dick is playing around with the kids in the bouncy house

❥ Damian 100% loves when you talk about your culture. The food, the dresses, the holidays you celebrate, EVERYTHING

❥ he especially loves it when you call him Spanish nicknames like, (Mi) Amor, Corazón, Cariño, etc.

❥ Damian was so happy when he came to meet your family one time and they had a meal prepped for him that was vegetarian, it looked like everyone else plate but the meat and stuff was replaced with stuff he could eat.

❥ I headcannon that Damian could speak fluently in Spanish as well as other languages. So communicated with your relatives that can’t speak English very well makes it easy for them and him.

❥ every party he goes to he notices that your family listen to the same music. And he can recognize them by name too like La Quebradora, La Chona, Baila Esta Cumbia, Te Vas Fetal, ETC. (there’s a long list I didn’t wanna write down💀)

❥ is a Selena fan. Seriously if you aren’t what are you doing with you life?

❥ Damians a fast leaner so he learns very quickly how to dance and stay on beat with everyone else but dancing to payaso de rodeo is a whole other different story that he doesn’t want to talk about😭

❥ try dancing Bachata with him and he’ll lose it.

❥ your family loves him so much they insist that you invite him over for Carne Asada💀. Idk they probably love him more than you ig

❥ they either call him ‘El Chico Rico de Wayne’ or ‘El nino con dinero’ and you tell them not to call him that. But Damian said he’s used to it which makes you feel bad😭

❥ Damian doesn’t really have a favorite food but I can see him liking Pupusas a lot.

❥ don’t even get me started with the Telenovelas and La Rosa de Guadalupe😭

❥ most of the episodes have you crying waterfalls. I’m telling you .

❥ this man can speak Spanish but he loves it when you speak Spanish back. Something about your accent just gets to him.

QUINCE EDITION: FT the whole family

❥ if you were dating Damian before you had your quince than he’s absolutely invited to it. You made him your main chambelane bc why not.

❥ Damian was never see so many people in one room alone. But when he sees you in the big puffy dress he falls in love with you all over against it’s sickening.

❥ you invited his family to your quince bc they get along with your family very well.

❥ during the father daughter dance he really wanted to kick them out bc Dick was having a moment and he wasn’t shutting up.

❥ but it’s alright tho bc you need up having a Dance with Damian after you were done with your dad

❥ Alfred took a lot of pictures and framed some of them in the manor.

❥ sometimes The older Tias would take him away from you and dance with him which is funny.

❥Jason is busting it down with the Tias

 ❥ Alfred took pictures of that too.

❥Bruce was having a nice conversation with the rest of your family members

❥ tim was stuffing his face in the back

❥ Jason was busting it down with the Tias.

❥ Dick is your laying around with the kids I’m the bouncy house

❥Dick was having fun with the kids in the bouncy house

❥Bruce was have a conversation with your parents and family.

❥Tim was stuffing his face in the back

❥ Dick was having fun with the kids in the bouncy house (do they have a name or??)

❥ Tim was eating his heart out in the candy section.

❥ and Alfreda as exchanging recipes with the grandmas 💀

[ms-demeanor]

my thing is I'm capable of any of this stuff up to at least level 3 and can do them for special occasions and if I've rested enough no problem, but I can't do it OFTEN because it just uses up too many spoons. any thoughts on this? besides practice, I already cook as often as I can (which is not very)

Mise en place your life as much as possible. I've talked about this before but this is what I do to make things easier on myself. My baking station with all the ingredients out and clearly labeled instead of at the bottom of the pantry where I have to dig for them makes it much, much, much easier to bake. My knife strip on the wall and the dozen cutting boards in a rack on the wall and the frying pan that lives on the stove instead of under the counter all make it much easier for me to cook.

Like, a lot of what I've been going through and doing in terms of home improvement/home decor is attempting to configure the house in such a way that large bastard and i can easily do the things we want to/need to do. We need batteries all the time, so the batteries live in an organized box where we can see it instead of in the back of the cabinet. We also need to *discard* batteries all the time, so the battery discard tub is right next to that box otherwise we'll start accumulating used batteries on surfaces.

The instruments that live on my kitchen counter are the ones that get used most often so that I don't need to go looking for them and so that I know at a glance if they're clean (if so they're in the canister on the counter) or need to be washed. The appliances that I use the most either live on the counter or get put places where it's convenient - I don't have enough bowls and plates that I need to use the top three shelves of my cabinet for bowls and plates like my parents did, but I do use my rice cooker twice a week so my rice cooker lives in the same cabinet as my dishes (as does my tofu press, my waffle maker, and the easiest-to-use 16oz food storage containers).

And you know what sometimes i just can't do it. Sometimes my back isn't working or my hip isn't working or i got glutened recently and I can't do much of anything.

I've got a variety of low spoon foods that I always have ingredients for (one recent addition to this list is tofu; i went from eating no tofu to eating tofu twice a week because two days a week i can't really use one of my arms to make dinner so i just prep the tofu at lunchtime and when i get home from the plasma center all i have to do is season and pan fry it and make a pot of rice. And I also make a shitload of extra rice because rice with eggs and sweet-spicy sauce is now one of my easiest and best go-to lunches) and whenever I make a pot of soup (something that I do pretty much every weekend when it's cool enough) I will make enough for lunch that week plus usually some extra to go in the freezer as backup "I don't feel like cooking" meals.

So, yeah I guess what I'm saying is get a good list of low-spoon foods that you like and can keep the ingredients handy for (ground beef goes bad in a week, tofu lasts like a month, i love tofu, it's so easy and so cheap to keep a bunch of tofu handy), and throw out the idea of what a kitchen is "supposed" to be like and figure out if there are ways to make your kitchen more adaptive for you.

Get anti-fatigue mats for your home kitchen. Get a tall stool that you can sit at while cooking at the stove instead of standing. Reorganize your cabinets for maximum efficiency for your needs. (large bastard and I have been doing this both with organized visible storage like wall racks as well as putting his stuff up high because bending over isn't easy for him but it is easy for me).

And also, like, consider if it's worth it, or how it can be worth it. How do you want to be a better cook? Do you want to be better at making meals for large groups or do you want to be more comfortable cooking for yourself or do you want a wider repertoire of recipes - all of those things will take a different path and some will be harder than others if you're wrangling disabilities that make it difficult to cook. I'm probably never going to be great at cooking for large groups because it doesn't really suit my lifestyle and it hurts! It hurts a lot and after hosting thanksgiving last year i needed to use my cane for a week because of how much it hurt my back! But I can work on stuff that makes it easier for me to cook, like having my baking station or keeping my rice cooker in an easy-to-reach cabinet.

[marcelloshdz]

lend an ear

summary: after you have a rough work week, marcello focuses on comforting you and making you feel better. requested by anonymous.

“ugh, finally. it feels so good to be home and away from work.” you groaned, tramping into your apartment. it was friday evening and your work week from hell was finally over. from drama between your coworkers, bad attitudes trickling down from higher-ups, entitled clients, and everything in between, you’d never wanted a work week to end faster than you wanted this one to. 

“just wish i wasn’t coming home to an empty apartment.” you whined to yourself. it was friday, which meant your boyfriend, marcello, was at work prepping for the next night’s snl episode. you moved around the apartment in silence, showering and slipping into some sweats and one of marcello’s old hoodies. you ordered food, sat down on the couch with a show and made yourself comfortable. 

a little bit later, your phone started ringing, marcello facetiming you. 

“hey baby.” you said quietly when you answered. 

“hola, mi amor. how are you doing?” he asked. 

“okay. just tired. i had a rough week at work and it drained me.” you sighed. “but i don’t wanna bore you with that. whats up with you? how’s your day?” you asked him. 

“its good! i filmed all my parts for pre-tapes early this morning. i’ve just been here rewriting and editing some sketches with john, ben, and martin for most of the day. i wish i could be home with you though.” he pouted. 

“me too. fingers crossed you don’t get home too late.” you smiled. you talked for a little while longer before marcello had to get back to work. 

after you hung up with marcello, you turned your show back on and finished your dinner. once you were done eating, it wasn’t much later than that when you started falling asleep. 

you slept for a bit before you were woken up by the front door opening. you slowly opened your eyes, wiping the sleep from them and stretched out. your vision finally focused in front of you, and you finally noticed marcello walking into the living room. his hands were full of food that he carefully placed on the coffee table in front of you.

“hey,” you said quietly, sleep still heavy in your voice. “what time is it?” 

“its 10.” 

“i didn’t expect you back this early.” you said, sitting up. marcello joined you on the couch and pulled you into this arm. 

“well, when i hear my girl is having a rough day, i need to be there to comfort her.”

“you’re too good to me.” you said, wrapping your arms around his waist and hugging him tight. you smiled up at him and he pressed a kiss to your lips. “i love you.” 

“i love you.” he repeated, kissing you again. the two of you dug into the food he brought home, and sat on the couch talking. he listened closely as you vented to him about your week. 

“but, at least it’s over and i can start new on monday.” you took another bite of your food before speaking again. “so, how’s the show coming along? whats in store for tomorrow?” you asked him.

“we have a couple of pre-tapes, and some really good sketches. i’ve got small parts in quite a few, but that depends on what ends up getting cut.” he sighed. 

“i always feel so bad when you’re in stuff that gets cut. i think you should be in everything forever.” you joked. 

“hey, i’m supposed to be the one comforting you.” he laughed. 

“oh yes, thats right.” you said, climbing back into his arms. he held you tight and sat with you while you watched tv for a while longer before moving to your room to go to bed. 

the next morning, you woke up to the smell of fresh coffee and pastries. the bed was empty next to you, and you walked out of your room to find marcello in the kitchen making you plates for breakfast. 

“good morning, baby. i went out earlier and got us breakfast.” he said, handing you a plate as you walked into the kitchen. 

“you’re such a good provider.” you said, kissing him before moving to the kitchen table to eat. 

“i gotta be for my favorite girl.” he said as he sat down next to you. you ate in silence as you were still waking up and marcello was making some final adjustments to his scripts on his ipad. 

you spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon cuddled up on the couch before marcello had to get ready to head to work for tonight’s show. 

“now, if you’re feeling up for it, you’re more than welcome to come with me, hang out and see the show.” marcello called from the bedroom. not wanting to spend another night moping on the couch alone, you accepted his invitation and got ready as well. 

as busy as saturday nights were in 8H, you were successful enough in staying out of the way. you stayed in marcello’s dressing room the most of the night, watching the show on their tv. marcello had been in and out of the dressing room, checking on you between sketches, making sure you were continuing to do well.

“baby, i’m fine. go work.” you laughed, shoving him out of the room each time he’d come in. after his last sketch of the night, marcello joined you in the dressing room, and watched the rest of the show with you.

“i knew you’d like this one.” he said with a smile after one sketch in particular really hit your funny bone and had you on the brink of tears from laughing so hard.

once the show ended, you waited fro him to gather his things and you made your way downstairs and outside. you hung back as he took pictures with some fans that were waiting along the barricades.

“you feeling up for the after party? a night of drinks is sure to get your mind off a terrible work week.” he asked once you caught back up to him.

“mmm, yeah. that sounds great.” you said. you loaded into the uber that waited for you at the corner and made your way to the restaurant the after party was being held at. the rest of the night was so fun as you hung out with marcello and the other cast members, who you were lucky enough to have become great friends with. after the drinks started flowing, you’d loosened up and the rest of your stress from work finally washed away. marcello was by your side the entire night, making sure that you were okay and were feeling well. you appreciated that so much, and you were so grateful that he loved you this way. 

once the night was finally over, you made your way home, quickly falling asleep after getting ready for bed. you slept wonderfully that night, glad that the week was over, and happy that you had a partner that was willing to take care of you in more ways than one.

[pedroshotwifey]

To The Flame chapter nine

Series masterlist

Pairing: Dark Javier Peña x Fem!reader

Chapter word count: 2.1k

Chapter tags/warnings: fluff, angst, manipulation, anxiety

Chapter summary: Making this move is going to be tougher than you thought...

A/N: Hey babes! Sorry for the short chapter, but I'm super excited because after this, things are going to get real dark real quick. We can really see some of the first big bits of manipulation here. I already have so many deliciously dark scenes written, and I can't wait to share!

****

The next couple of days are chaotic, full of making arrangements for flights, organizing through all of your possessions, and figuring out what bills need to be discontinued. It’s a lot to handle, but Javi takes it in stride, making sure you don’t have too much to worry about. 

He handles most of the interactions and arrangements when he’s not working, leaving you to get the little things done. Even though you’re not tasked with much, it’s still extra stressful to deal with after just having moved a few weeks prior.

You barely have any time together since Javi’s running around trying to get everything done in time, so you savor the moments when your schedules actually align. It’s mostly at night, after he gets home, and the two of you will eat dinner together and then do whatever you have the energy for. 

Today’s the first day he’s been given off since he found out about the promotion, and if everything goes according to plan, he should be off until the move. The two of you have gotten everything you’d needed to do today knocked off the list, and decided that you deserve a bit to relax instead of more packing. 

You both sat and watched TV for the better half of the day, all the fans on and the windows open in an attempt to cool off. The house is fucking sweltering thanks to having to cancel the A/C. It’s one of the hottest days you’ve had all year, because that figures. 

Both you and Javi have peeled off your shirts, leaving you in your bra and shorts, and him in his usual jeans. Despite the lingering looks thrown each other’s way, you both know it’s too hot to engage in celebratory activities right now. 

Javi’s on the phone in the living room while you prep some sandwiches for lunch to use the rest of what you have in the fridge. It’s likely that the next few days will be filled with an ungodly amount of fast food and diners. 

You finish putting the sandwiches together and slip back into the living room with two plates, handing one to Javi as he hangs it back up on the reciever. 

“Here you go baby.” 

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Javi smiles at you. 

You take a seat next to him on the couch and the two of you eat in silence, too tired to have much to say. You’re both off in your own worlds, you thinking about what you have left on your checklist; sort through clothes, pack pictures, get the dishes organized, call your sister. 

You stop on that one, resisting the urge to cringe. You haven’t called her since you moved, and she has no way of getting to you. You feel like a coward but you almost don’t want to face her. You’ve done nothing wrong, and yet you almost feel like you’d abandoned her and moved on. 

You know she wouldn’t think that, but it’s still a nagging concern in the back of your mind. What would you even say? Just tell her that you’re moving? You don’t know your address for Columbia yet, but the least you could do is let her know what’s going on. 

You finish your sandwich and sigh, making Javi glance your way. 

“You okay, sweetheart?” 

“Yeah, just tired,” you tell him after a second, deciding you don’t really want to explain the way your entire thought process just went. 

“I’m sorry, baby. We could take a nap if you want?” 

You smile at him. “ I Might have to take you up on that in a minute.” 

You gesture for his empty plate and he hands it to you, offering to do the dishes instead. You, of course, shoot him down. It doesn’t take you long, but you’re able to convince yourself to bite the bullet as you’re sticking the plates in the drying rack. 

You walk into the hall with the phone, drying your hands on your shorts as you go. Javi’s brows furrow as he watches you pick it up. 

“What are you doing?” 

You pause on dialing and look up at him to where he’s still sat on the couch. 

“I’m going to try to get a hold of my sister to tell her we’re moving.” 

Javi sits up a bit, suddenly more energetic than he has been all day. “You can do that later, can’t you? Come see me.” He flips his palm up and reaches for you the tiniest bit. You smile warmly at him. 

“Just give me one second, it’ll be quick,” you tell him. He frowns. 

“I’ll be quick too. Just a kiss?” He smiles hopefully up at you and you melt a bit before giving in. 

“Alright, just a kiss, no more, you bad man,” you laugh at him as his smile widens the closer you get. 

You lean down to meet his lips, and then you’re being pulled forward, giggling as you land in his lap. His mouth immediately finds yours as he pulls you into him, trapping your body against his. 

“Baby,” you laugh, trying to pull away. “I’ve got to call her!” 

Javi hums to signify that he heard you, but doesn’t let up from the sloppy kisses he’s planting on your neck and chest. You can’t help the small moan that slips as he sucks on a particularly sensitive spot. 

“M, Javi, I’m being serious honey,” you try again. “I need to get in touch with her before they cut off our service.” You try to push yourself up, but his arms tangle more tightly around you. 

“Javi, quit,” you’re not joking around anymore. You’re a little concerned that the service is going to be cut off sometime today, since it was the day you were supposed to pay for it. You’ve already put off calling your sister for too long just out of nerves, and now you don’t want to miss your chance. 

You push against him, trying to pry his arms away, and this, combined with the seriousness ebbing into your tone, finally catches his attention. He looks up at you, a slight pout on his full lips. 

“I just need to let her know,” you say, waiting for him to loosen his grip, but he only sighs. 

“Honestly, I don’t think that’s a good idea, sweetheart,” he admits, looking at you with genuine concern. 

You frown, a bit taken aback. 

“What do you mean?” 

He sighs again and looks down past you, almost like he’s getting ready to explain something to a small child. You don’t like the way it makes you feel like such. You’ve noticed recently that he has a tendency to make you feel like a kid, though you don’t think it’s intentional. The age gap definitely doesn’t help either. It makes you worry sometimes that you’re too immature for him, even though you know you’re not in the slightest. 

“I don’t think you should tell anyone you’re leaving,” he explains. 

“What? Why? She’s my sister, she deserves to know.” You have no idea where this is coming from. You’ve told him about your relationship with your sister, how it’s nothing like your connection with your parents. 

“Can you really trust her not to tell your parents though? Or them to not listen in? They don’t need to know your address.”

You shift uncomfortably in his lap, getting agitated with his protests. 

“Javi, I’ll literally be in a different country, I don’t think it matters even if they do.” 

His lips press into a thin line and breathes deeply through his nose. He unwraps his arms from around you to place his hands on your hips, holding you steady as he looks back into your eyes. 

“Honestly, sweetheart, it’s my job. My superiors want me to limit who knows our address, especially if it’s not someone we can completely trust.” 

Your stomach sinks at this. It makes sense, and you don’t want to do anything that could jeopardize his position, but leaving your sister with no explanation? She’s done nothing to deserve that. 

“But I–” 

He cuts you off with a pointed stare, his jaw ticking slightly. 

“I’m not asking for much here. It’s just one thing. You really can’t do that?” 

Your ears heat with shame as you swallow down bile rising into your mouth. You cast your gaze down so you don’t have to look at him with your embarrassment. You’re being selfish again, and you both know it.

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t think,” you apologize quietly through the lump in your throat. 

Javi’s hand comes to your chin, raising your eyes back to his and seeing the sheen in them. He tuts sympathetically and cradles your head to his chest, petting your hair in a soothing motion. 

“I know it’s hard, honey. I’m sorry it has to be like this.” 

You nod into his shirt, a tear slipping down your cheek despite your efforts to keep them in. You feel extremely overwhelmed all of a sudden. 

He hushes you and lets you cry silently into his chest, whispering encouragement as he rocks you gently. 

“You’ll be okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” 

And you know you will be, it just doesn’t seem like it right now. 

*****

You have pretty much everything else packed within the next few days. It was honestly miserable having to put everything away after you’d just put it out, both in a physical and emotional sense. You don’t know how many times you had to remind yourself that you were doing this for Javi, that he deserved it. 

That fact definitely softened the blow, but not enough so that the sadness was completely snuffed. And now knowing that you’ll have to pretty much cut contact with your sister, who is also your only friend, it’s been a hard pill to swallow. It’s going to be hard leaving everything behind, but you’re willing to do it for your husband. Hell, he’s the one that got you here in the first place—it’s the least you could do. 

You leave for Columbia tomorrow, most of your stuff already in the process of being moved to the apartment Javi was assigned to. Well, most of the stuff you were able to move anyway. You’ve had to pick and choose what you want to bring with you, and what needs to stay at the old house for storage. The apartment isn’t very large, so there’s no way to take everything. Another thing that saddens you. 

You’d picked through all of your clothes and decided to put all your dresses into a box for storage and take everything else. There’s no sense in bringing them since you’ll likely not have a need for them. There’s only a couple that you stuffed in with everything else, just in case. You’re also bringing your books, some photos, and some sentimental things from your childhood. 

Javi’s bringing about the same. Just his everyday clothes, a suit or two, and some of his personal items. It all got loaded onto a little trailer, and Javi took it either to the old house or to the airport. 

You’re left now with just the bare minimum in the house. A few kitchen items, the couch that you won’t be able to move, and the mattress that you’ll be taking tomorrow. You’re both laying on that now, you with a book in your hand, and Javi reading through some paperwork. 

He received his assignments a couple of days ago, and he’s been looking through to memorize most of the important stuff. It sounds like there’s going to be a lot less office work in his future.

You put your book down, huffing a dramatic sigh. 

“Javi?” 

“Yes, sweetheart?” 

“I’m bored.” 

He puts his paperwork down, rubs his eyes, and purses his lips at you. 

You smile at him, and he can’t resist the way his lips tug up as well. You crawl over to him, situating yourself into his side, and hand your book to him. 

“Read to me.” 

He sighs at you but takes the book. 

“I’m probably going to be slow.” 

“That’s okay.” 

“Alright, fine. You’re lucky you’re cute.” 

You smile wider, snuggling further into his body as he clears his throat and picks up from the page you left off on. Your eyes close as you listen to the sound of his gravelly voice somehow smoothing out as he gets into the groove of the love story. 

Before long, your eyes start to get heavy and you have to actively resist the urge to fall asleep. He’s not even a chapter in when you’re lulled to sleep by his voice and the ceiling fan running in the background.

**** Hope you enjoyed this chapter! It wasn't my favorite but some of these next ones are, so stay tuned 😈

Series taglist: @corazondebeskar @yorksgirl @nerdieforpedro @axshadows @melaninmommy @survivingandenduring @kewwrites @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff @callachloe @missladym1981 @sofiparallel @koshkaj-blog @sheepdogchick3 @movievillainess721 @jessie8605 @casa-boiardi @justlulu @iamsherlocked-1998 @hjzghi-blog

[mischiefmaker615]

Eat

Summary: Loki finds himself in a dark state.

Requested by: Laer111ee (wattpad)

Rating: *WARNING* mentions of depression, and $u*cidal thoughts

 

“You have to eat.’’

Loki’s eyes didn’t even flicker up at you as his fork mindlessly moved around his food. You knew he heard you as you sit across from him with your own plate, but he continues to not further the subject.

It was a delicate time.. his mood swings per say..

You knew he already felt bad for not eating the food you worked decently hard on to make, which didn’t help the already current state he has found himself in for the past several days of worsening depression. At least he had you as a support system and both of you moving into your own apartment has definitely helped since living with “earth’s mightiest heroes” has done a number on his mood already. Yet you worry..

The battle on New York is over, and due to a ton of begging from Thor to let Loki stay under house arrest at the tower to avoid severe Asgardian punishment- death, the Avenger’s obliged with only a few times of “community service” in the field in which special bracelets were made to contain a bit of his magic when it’s needed to be used. He was a really great help and his magic made most of our fights against hydra and a ton of others definitely shorter. You and him even got some one on one sparring sessions and mini missions and low and behold, decided to start going out.. from limited means since he still was under watch.

its was years now, SHIELD still has him wear the bracelets that he currently likes to pull at periodically without even realizing it sometimes. With begging on your part, you lived in this cute apartment not to far away from the Avenger’s tower, and with doing your best with the limited means, you both have been happy. Yet recently his mood has changed. Sometimes he doesn’t wish to get out of bed, even if he was wide awake. Sometimes the smallest things could set him off where he would either yell or accidently break something with his god strength- forgetting Midgardian furniture isn’t built like it is in Asgard. And quite recently, he’s refused to eat a whole meal and now he hardly eats at all.

Being a god, he can go far longer than humans.. but with the amount of time that’s passed, you were sure it was concerning even for someone like him to go on this long with only like two bites and then he was finished.. he was scaring you, you worried for him and whether he realized it or not, you had to prep the house encase any.. initial thoughts would come along..

Getting Thor involved was out of the question, he hated anyone that was related to the new York battle- which happened to be all of your friends but to hang out with them, you were to scared to leave Loki alone so it really put a damper on your mood as well. The apartment was mostly quiet, worrying what would be said or done to set off either of you but sometimes it was just the fact knowing you both were around each other- verbal or not, was comforting.

Yet this eating thing has gone far enough and your already lean boyfriend was becoming noticeably more lean as time went by.

Setting down your fork, you slowly rose and crossed over to pull the seat out next to Loki to have a seat- his eyes barely resisting your movements as he continued to move around his vegetables.

After a moment of silence, you gently placed a hand on his and he stopped moving, the fork slowly sliding from his fingers.

‘’Loki..’’ you began, your voice quiet as your eyes glued to his face with a gentle expression.

The only response he gave you was a small nod- one would miss it if they weren’t paying attention.

‘’I know there are a lot of things on your mind, a lot of thoughts that are sparking new ones, ideas and assumptions. It’s been a few days since you’ve had a proper amount of food, and that’s okay’’ you add and squeeze his hand a little as he gave a small sigh.

‘’what can I do to help? Even if it’s just an ear if you wish to talk things out out loud..’’

Loki stayed silent for a moment, staring mindlessly at his plate but no focus in his gaze. As if someone was forever zoned out and his hand was limp when you held it. his skin was cold- colder actually. You didn’t rush him, you just waited as your thumb gently stroked his skin, staring at his beautiful face you loved so much and stayed quiet as you focused on his slow breathing.

Parting his lips slowly, he sighed another hopeless sigh we’ve all had when there was no point to anything. Where we have been at our lowest and wanted to quit whatever we were doing right then and there. Happiness was dead at this time and light was no option in this type of tunnel we found ourself lost in.

‘’I’m a failure..’’ he barely whispered, his words breaking your heart as tears formed in his eyes once more.

‘’Loki you’re not a-‘’

‘’my whole life is a lie.. it would have been better if I would have just perished as an infant on Jotunheim and all this wouldn’t have happened’’ he said between sobs, his hands forming fists on the table in which you had to quickly pull your hand away but instead rested it on top.

He has found himself comfortable in your relationship to tell you about his upbringing, the betrayal, the lies, Odin, all of it. but he’s always spoke out of hatred.. this was the firs time he’s actually shown sorrow upon the subject. It broke your heart seeing him like this, and you knew you were important to him in your life where he’ll need you more than ever in these moments. You will not abandon him.

You slowly rose from your chair and went to his own, bringing his head to your chest as you wrapped your arms around him, his face turning slightly to continue to cry into your chest while you stroked his silky hair.

‘’Loki.. I can’t tell you how much it pains me and angers me of what has happened to you, you deserved none of it and you did everything to the best of your abilities to make things right with the best intentions. Not everyone will be able to see the reason, it doesn’t mean what you did was wrong..’’ you kept the part of murder out, figuring it wasn’t the best time to revisit that topic as you spoke slowly and in a hushed tone as his sobs began to quiet.

‘’if people fail to see your good intentions and continue to be selfish, hypocritical and blind to their own actions, then- blood or not- are they really worth having in your life..’’

‘’I don’t.. want to be alone..’’ he whispered as his arms hold you closer to him, almost making you fall into his lap as you hold him tighter.

‘’you’re never alone Loki, I’m here and I’ll never leave you.’’ you whisper and pull away a little to be able to cup his cheeks and have him look at you, your thumbs wiping away his tears as your expression becomes serious.

Memories of two weeks ago poked at your mind, how you almost lost him once if you hadn’t gotten to him in time. the fear always hits your heart whenever you saw him like this, afraid he may do it again. It just meant he needs you more than ever and with the right guidance. It just takes time.

‘’sometimes what you’re thinking..’’ you didn’t have the heart to say it as tears pricked your eyes but you took a deep breath. ‘’sometimes that seems like it’s the easiest answer.. but it’s a permanent solution to a temporary problem.’’ You whisper, bending down a little to kiss him, his lips kissing you back with almost a desperate, eagerness.. as if he hasn’t seen you in ages.

You shared this moment, stroking his hair and back before pulling away, seeing how his tears had subsided though he still looked drained. Sitting in his lap now, you picked up his fork and brought it to his lips.

‘’how about.. if you could finish just a few bites, we could go to bed and just hold each other?’’

Loki’s eyes slowly looked at the food, showing no interest in it but looked back into your eyes at what he could have if he did. A small smile- a mischievous one just barely tugged at his lips as he sighed. ‘’just hold each other?’’

You couldn’t help but smile, a bit of his old self peaking out of his depressed state. It’s a start. ‘’we’ll see.’’ You tease and brought the fork forward.

And by the gods, he ate.