#UNSCRUNCHED!!!!

[honestlyvan]

I need to show off to y’all

*snaps fingers*

[yell0wsalt]

Iroh may give off the serious and polite demeanor most times, but let's take a moment to appreciate how expressive he can be— LOOK AT HIS FACE

[gin-juice-tonic]

i had to unscrunch my face after drawing that comic last night bc of all the angry eyebrows i was making during

[lightnersdream]

[izvmimi]

ember - izuku x reader

cw: spoilers to the end of the manga. reader with vaguely described quirk. izuku and reader are married. short and sweet. a/n: establishing my own new canon, tyvm.

On an evening out in September, six months after you tie the knot with Izuku Midoriya and three years after Izuku returns to active Pro Hero duty, you find out three crucial things about him.

One, Izuku meant it when he said he loves you possibly more than life itself; two, Izuku might not have lost all of the embers of One for All, after all, and three, Izuku is a fucking idiot.

Your body feels unbelievably rigid as though you were in a car accident, and in a way, you were, and your guts should be strewn all over this sparsely populated street if not for the fact that you’re wrapped up, safe, cocooned in your lover’s protective hold, his back curved over yours, and the truck that should have crushed you both instead is partially crumpled itself at its front end, metal twisting around Izuku’s raised forearm. The two of you are panting heavily, the adrenaline coursing through your veins giving you the sensation of having just run a marathon, and he’s looking at you with frantic eyes, scanning you for safety. That long familiar green spark in the air surges around him like electricity, the glow in his green eyes, fading quickly.

“Are you okay?” he asks, breathlessly, not out of exertion but out of shock.

“I-Izuku, you’re not…”

He still hasn’t realized what has just happened, focusing on the fact that you’re alive and okay and didn’t turn into roadkill right in front of his very eyes. Unwedging his somehow intact forearm from the grille of the truck, he turns his body completely to you, rubbing his hands over your shoulders and down your arms, and helps you rise to your feet. The static feeling emanating from him slips away second by second and your lips wobbles as you’re at a loss for words.

“Are you okay?” he repeats again. He’s patting you over quickly, looking for broken bones, bruised skin, and your mind is still racing, computing what just happened and why you’re still alive.

He shouldn’t have been able to cross that distance so quickly - you were just waving to him from across the street, the road clear when you looked before crossing, and in seconds the vehicle had barreled at full speed out of nowhere; he couldn’t have moved before screaming your name fast enough, maybe years ago when you were both teenagers with impossible superpowers but not now, years later with superhuman gifts dwindled to nothing. 

He couldn’t have, but he did. 

“I-Izuku, the suit… you’re not wearing your suit,” your voice carries shakily, and as you see his eyebrows unscrunch and raise instead in surprise, he turns, and sees the stopped vehicle, the broken glass and distorted metal, a man hurriedly jumping out of the passenger seat and shakily apologizing, and finally his torn jacket sleeve and it occurs to him.

“Oh, fuck, I’m not.”

—

You watch Mei type on her computer, not bothering to try to decipher her thoughts from her facial expressions, knowing full well that she’s never been readable before. Even years after high school you find that this continues to be true, but the blank but friendly and entranced look on her face is somehow pleasant the more you think about it, and you let yourself let out the breath you’ve been holding.

It’s been just a few weeks since the night Izuku’s Quirk - at least some of it - flickered back into life for the first time, and after you’d berated him for using his literal body to shield you from a danger that could have killed you both, you’d taken the time that evening to use your own Quirk to see if something about his body had gone haywire. To both of your surprises, you’d gotten a flicker of something similar to the old him, but unsure and unwilling to get either of your hopes up, you’d decided to consult with Mei and other experts who worked with Quirk pathophysiology and augmentation (a few of which you’d taken courses with yourself years ago), and now you were back in Mei’s laboratory, trying to see if you could get to the bottom of this.

Since then, the following strange things had happened:

You’d dropped a plate and Izuku had dove for it, the wisp of a Blackwhip tendril just brushing it before it ultimately crashed to the ground, the two of you too stunned to speak.

A group of Izuku’s students heckled him as he leaned in to accept your kiss outside UA, and all of you ended up in a purple haze before you knew it.

Izuku’s midday nap on the couch found him face to face with the ceiling when you finally discovered him, and

A sudden unintentional use of Fa Jin made things very interesting in bed.

“I guess my baby’s doing a better job than I thought it would!” Mei grins. You hunch over her screen, while Izuku’s too hooked up to a tangle of wires to get a good view of the screen himself, and she compares Quirk levels from the beginning of the suit’s conception to now, a previously long-standing flat graph with a steadily rising bump. 

“A miracle,” you whisper under your breath.

“I find that personally offensive.” Mei replies, her facial expression lacking the cheek to compare to her statement as she watches Izuku watch you from behind the glass. She presses a button on the intercom; Izuku grins at you while Mei gives him the instructions to try to activate Blackwhip one more time, and you can feel warmed all the way through. 

—

Slowly but surely, over time, the Quirk levels start to recover, and you, Izuku and Mei try your best to keep it under wraps.

Of course, Katsuki finds out with direct questioning, the purple haze event showing up on an anonymous internet forum propelling him to show up at your doorstep and demand personally that Izuku tell him if he got his quirks back or not.

“We’re not sure how permanent this is, Kacchan,” he offers. Katsuki might as well spit on the ground before him in protest but you’re seated in the living room, and even Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight has enough decorum to not make a mess in someone else’s home.

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Midoriya!”

“It’s not a lie!” Izuku insists, and he turns his gaze to you for backup which you swiftly provide.

“Listen, we’re not sure yet, and they’ll probably never get back to normal, but he’s doing his best.” Katsuki grimaces, which annoys you further.

“You’ll get your damn rematch, be patient.” you add, rolling your eyes. Katsuki leers, and his partner pats him on the shoulder.

“He’s just excited,” she translates for him, and Katsuki mumbles something about not needing her for translation every time which doesn’t waver her smile one bit.

“Excited to get his ass beat,” you murmur, reaching over to pour her some more tea. Izuku and Katsuki both stare at you, Izuku with nervous concern and Katsuki with irritation, and just like old days, you and Katsuki’s arguing match begins anew. 

—

As the two of you brush your teeth and prepare for bed, you do your nightly routine of checking how strong Izuku's reawakened Quirk is with your hand on his chest, and he presses his free hand over yours.

“You know, my favorite part of this is you’ll finally start to worry less.” He chuckles and squeezes your hand gently.

You let the water run and clear spittle from the sink, and gargle before you answer, your hand still captive by his, then look at him.

“To be honest, I’ll never stop worrying about you, Izuku. Even if you become God.”

But you understand what he means. You’ve had many a nightmare about suit malfunction, only a few of these you’ve shared with him, among other things that have to do with being a Pro Hero in the capacity he insists to be in. This is a small help. 

A small bit of providence.

He expected this answer, lips pulling into a smile as he takes your hand fully and pulls the fingertips to his lips to kiss them. 

“I’m glad that won’t change,” he replies.

Moments later, you’re laid in bed together, and as you both muse on the potentially altering future in quiet, love-flushed cheeks and hands intertwined, he turns to you suddenly.

“There’s one thing I’m still missing,” he says.

Your eyes refocus to him. He’s pensive now, not sad or upset, but thoughtful. You move closer to kiss him on the lips once before nodding for him to continue.

“What are you missing?”

“Danger Sense,” he says.

“But everything else is back,” you reply. He nods, letting his arm drape around your waist.

“Yeah, but I think I liked that one the most.”

You snort lightly. “Not being able to lift a train, or fly, but 'Super Anxiety' was your favorite?”

You’re making light of the issue to keep the mood from getting too heavy, but he frowns, and you frown back, apologetically. 

“Well, ‘Super Anxiety’ made it so that I knew when bad things were about to happen, and often these bad things could involve you.”

He has the tiniest scrunch to his eyebrows, one that in another situation would have compelled you to rub out with your fingertips, but now is not the time to be playful.

You twist your mouth to the side and a few more moments pass between you, before you add:

“I don’t think you need it, though.”

He raises an eyebrow, and you press a kiss to his forehead.

“All this came back because you wanted to protect me,” you remind him. “You moved without thinking, for me, as always, like you knew I needed you. That's better than Danger Sense by far.”

His face softens as he cups yours in his hands. You're thankful that you've reached him.

“Always for you,” he says.

Even if this miracle is transient and despite your best efforts, his quirk levels fall back to normal instead of steadily growing, the love he has for you, and the love you have for him, will never, ever burn out.

[luveline]

ooh yay okay short blurb idea!! stevie comforting anxious!reader with back rubs? I feel like he gives the best calming back rubs ever!!! need him to help me w my anxiety :( 🤍🤍🤍

It's not that Steve's presence alone can stave off your anxiety, he's not a miracle, though he is miraculous, but it doesn't take long without him to fall into unhappy thoughts. He leaves to shower and you worry about everything one ache at a time, hands braced on your knees, begging your body to just let it go this time. Just this one time. 

You listen to the shower running, glad for the noise to hide your breath as it begins to wind, but Steve is quick. A minute later he's turning off the water, and a minute after that he's propping open the door to the ensuite to let out the hot air. His hair is still dry. He only wanted a refresher after the hot weather. 

You squeeze at nothing, your hands aching from the scrunch and unscrunching of your fingers. Steve must sense it, your quiet hurting, because he looks up with that resigned concern already lining his mouth, lips pulled down into an unfortunate frown. 

"Hey," he says, pulling the last sock on, "I'll be right there." 

The distance between you is relatively small and huge nonetheless. "It's okay," you say. 

You're wheezing. Steve's eyebrows furrow, and he grabs his glasses off of the night table as he sits down beside you. They slip down his damp nose and fog a little from the heat of his skin, which is a nice distraction until you realise it's a distraction. 

"Can I touch you?" he asks quietly. 

You nod quickly. Sometimes the panic is too much, and anyone's touch feels like a burn, but right now it's the one thing you want. Steve slides right up to your side, thigh to thigh, elbow to elbow. He slides the arm closest to you behind your back to hold you, and the other comes over his lap to your leg, where he squeezes the soft fat of your inner thigh. 

"What is it?" he asks. 

"I think…" you breathe in until your chest feels like it'll pop. "An attack." 

"Okay," he says, pulling you that last bit closer. You're like one person.

You lean forward away from him without thinking. Steve doesn't follow, but his hand tracks a heavy weight on your back. He starts to draw as he usually does when this happens, long fingers and a soft palm roving up the length of your spine and down again, filling the dip of your back as his voice melds to a whisper. "It's okay. We have to ride it out, that's all. You know that already. Keep breathing, babe." 

You cover your face with your hands. Steve makes a small sorry sound and takes your wrist, pulling your hand from your mouth.  

"Just breathe, honey." 

It's not easy. Not as simple as just, but you breathe. Steve's hand is dutiful and loving as it goes, tracing the same path over and over again. He whispers every now and then when you hold your breath or show signs of cracking, and when your eyes fill with tears his touch turns especially tender. 

People forget how full of love Steve is. He wants to love people, even if he does get annoyed at everything. Everything, and yet never at this. This is where his patience lies. 

Your back starts to feel ticklish from his touching. It works better than intended, one uncomfortable feeling replacing the other slowly. Steve puts his second hand on your chest to feel your pulse, his pinky finger sliding under the neckline of your shirt. He counts under his breath. 

"Good," he murmurs, pulling out his hand. "Good job, baby. You're okay." 

The attack ends, the shaky aftermath begins. You feel weak from hyperventilation, hands still shaking. Steve wraps you up in his arms now you're in no danger of suffocation to hold you together, pulling your face to his neck, his cheek turned from you as he sighs in relief. "You're okay," he says again. "That was a sudden one, huh? You okay?" 

You manage a soft laugh. "I thought you already decided." 

"It's two different okays." He rubs the top of your shoulder with his thumb, leaving warmth in his wake. "I know from your heart that you're okay, but are you okay? You know. What do you need me to do?" 

You hug him weakly. "Nothing. I don't need… Thank you, Steve." He's done more than you could ever ask for. 

"You're welcome," he says, kissing your cheek twice, his words warm and quiet against your skin. "Don't mention it. Just glad you're feeling better." 

[stcknpoke]

Kiss Me Silly

content Arthur Morgan x reader, established relationship, fluffiest fluff that this rusty old hopeless romantic could write. First fic I’ve written in years, please be nice! Reader welcomes Arthur back home after he’s been away on a mission, suggestive ending.

Word Count: 1270 | AO3

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The past few days had been a painful waiting game. Many of the men, including your dearest Arthur, had been away with no word on when they’d be back. The days hadn’t been any different than usual; the same monotonous chores driven by Miss Grimshaw’s ever-present nagging, the same mystery stew, the same gossip with the girls. It was the nights that wore down on your soul like a drip, slowly but surely eroding away its own path on a boulder. The quiet of the half-empty camp and the missing heartbeat from your bed were the drip, and the path they wore on you was the fear and the doubt. Only at night was it quiet enough for those ugly thoughts to simmer in your mind; thoughts of Arthur shot down and lying dead somewhere. Thoughts of your big, strong man, who always protected everyone else, being unable to protect himself anymore.

The creeping fingers of night were just beginning to take hold of the land, raking away the last remnants of sunset from the sky. You sat next to Abigail, talking just to keep busy, mending one of Arthur’s shirts as you spoke. You could tell John’s lingering absence was wearing on her. She had confided in you the fears that it brought back to her, the way it reminded her of when he had left. The pair of you tried to chat as usual, but in the tense atmosphere any attempt at small talk came out stilted and awkward. Eventually, Abigail left to put Jack to sleep, leaving you with just your thoughts. Your thoughts, and the shirt that you kept scrunching and unscrunching between your fists. It was Arthur’s, and it needed badly to be stitched up. It was an easy enough patch job, it could have taken just 20 minutes to fix, but you had been avoiding changing anything from the way he had left it. So you dawdled, lazily pulling the thread along the torn edges, wasting time to stop and inhale the scent of smoke and sweat, wasting even more time scrunching it as you absentmindedly did now. It wasn’t until the needle pricked into the palm of your hand that you were reminded of the task that you were so close to finishing in the dying light.

A short while later, after just a bit more forlorn procrastination, the shirt was finally good as new. The sun had dipped low beyond the horizon and the sky had blackened, illuminated only by the campfire. The night’s symphony was in full swing; frogs croaking, crickets chirping, a soft breeze that rustled the leaves in a way it could only do under the cover of darkness. Breaking through the predictable night sounds came a deep and irregular drumming, the beating of hooves on the path. Your heartbeat began to quicken as the drumming grew nearer, with both fear of the unknown and anticipation for the expected. Each second drew on like hours, but quickly the horses reached camp and at once the heartbeat of camp returned. You raced toward Arthur, who barely had time to dismount his horse before your arms were thrown around him. Had it been any other man, the enthusiastic impact may have caused him to sway; but Arthur’s burly frame stood strong against the earth, arms returning your embrace.

“Whoah there, batterin’ ram.” he chuckled low under his breath, fatigue creeping in against the edges of his amusement.

You backed away to study his face, his features tired but smiling down at you. “Sorry, just missed ya is all.” you exhaled softly, wasting no time in embracing the man once again. This time, however, your hands clasping behind his shoulders were met with a sharp sting permeating your palm. Recoiling in surprise, you looked at the palm to see the sewing needle from the shirt you were still holding lodged deep into the palm of your hand. “Shit” you cursed under your breath.

Arthur gently took your hand. “C’mere,” he spoke as he looked at the needle. With one smooth motion he removed the metal from the skin. He lifted the palm of your hand to his lips. “All better.” he murmured against your skin, somewhere between a whisper and a kiss. 

He still held your hand firmly in his, but you raised the mended shirt that you still held in your other hand. “Fixed your shirt.” you said as you raised it, its existence somehow proof of its new quality. Arthur only hummed in acknowledgement as he moved to kiss your wrist. 

The edge of camp where you had run to him was empty now, the other men having left to reunite with the campfire. You took a step towards Arthur, becoming aware of the isolation that the darkness offered. Arms draped over his shoulders and around his neck, you leaned upwards to plant a soft kiss to his jawline. After days on the road, his face scratched your lips in a way it hadn’t before. “I missed you.” you whispered against his shoulder , tracing a finger over the spot on his chin where the hair never grew.

He pulled you tighter into his embrace. “I hate to’ leave ya’.” It was his way of returning your sentiment. 

Your lips followed where your hand had traced, leaving a tender kiss against a long-healed scar. “I know…” you exhaled, cupping his square jaw in his hands. You trailed your soft and pouty lips across his face, weathered and scratchy from his stubble. Peppering kisses across his face; from his temples to his chin, the wrinkled outer corners of his eyes to the bent bridge of his nose. The corners of his mouth, but deliberately avoiding his lips. Every scar, proof of pain, was overpowered by merciful love.

He held you, a tender embrace between terrible people, as he guided your chin with his index finger and his thumb. He met your lips with the kind of comfortable familiarity one rarely finds, even in one's own self. Your lips interlocked together, as if they were puzzle pieces made to fit the other pair. How had life passed by before you had known each other? The lingering taste of tobacco and wild mint clung to him, his lips tasted like home. His rough fingers brushed across your cheek as he moved to hold you by the face, savouring his turn to take in the beauty that he had missed while away. Gazing into your heavily-lidded eyes, obscured in the darkness by thick lashes, he brushed a calloused thumb against your plush lower lip as he leaned in to kiss you once more.

You were a strange pair; two outlaws surrounded by a world of death and hurt and somehow it was the comfort of life that sprang forth whenever your spirits met. Though the grim reaper seemed to be your stalker, and Arthur’s closest business partner, darkness and death turned a blind eye to this love. Like a sense of yin and yang, there was some purity left in the blackened hearts of this world. The pair of you weren’t so different, just two souls forced to do wrong in this world. Together, it finally felt like you were doing something right.

Arthur leaned his head away from your lips to speak. “Been away for so long,” he started, brushing a strand of hair away from your eyes. “I wanna do more than jus’ kiss ya’.” he smirked. 

You grabbed him by the hand, “Well then, Mr. Morgan, I think you are in for a lucky night.” you teased back, guiding him to his tent.

[bunmurdock]

dark!matt murdock (or ddba!) who doesn’t let you go out with your friends until you’ve handed over your panties to him first. fisting his cock with the soft fabric, wrapping the wet spot that’s already there over his tip as he pumps himself to completion. after he’s cum into the fabric, he unscrunches it, bending down to have you step back into it—one foot after the other—and pulls it up until the wetness is flush against your sensitive mound. he’ll have you feel him all day so you never forget that you’re his.

[princema-k]

go white boy go

(unscrunched and lactose-free vers under cut)

[mrsrileywrites]

What about Papa Simon Riley struggling to talk about menstruation with his ten year old daughter?

Simon sat at the couch, a glass of bourbon on one hand while the other rested with his palm flat on his thigh, his brows slightly furrowed as he watches the football game on the TV. 

It was Friday night and you were on a girl's night out with your friends. 

Your daughter came to sit next to Simon and looked up at him with her big brown eyes, "Daddy? What's a period?" she chirped hugging Simon's arm.

Simon looked at her dumbfounded, what was he supposed to say? He knew what a period was, he just didn't know how to explain it to a ten year old. 

"Sweetheart aren't you supposed to be in bed?" he asked trying to change the subject. "It's Friday... Mom says I can stay up a little longer." She smiled and Simon cursed under his breath. "Yeah... It's Friday" he said scratching the back of his neck. 

"Daddy, you didn't answered my question" she insisted and Simon cursed again. 

He scrambled in his brain for an answer. "Periods, yeah... Um well... you know how girls bodies start to change when they reach a certain age, right?". The hand on his thigh scrunched and unscrunched his jeans mindlessly as your daughter's eyes, his eyes, looked at him expectantly. "And boys bodies change too... everyone's body change... but that's besides the point, so..." He stopped ready to give up. 

"Sweetheart, why don't you ask mom? She knows girlie stuff better than me". "But daddy... She'll be back once I'm asleep and I really, really want to know" she pouts.

"Can't you go on about your life without knowing baby?" he chuckled nervously pinching her cheek, she giggled swatting his hand away. "Mom can explain tomorrow, yeah?"

"Okaaay" she said sighing in defeat. 

When you came home you found Simon in bed, his back leaned against the headboard, brows pinched in concentration as he googled "how to explain periods, ten year old girl". 

You told your daughter all about periods the following morning as you guys eat breakfast. 

Simon paid close attention, you won't catch him lacking once your next daughter comes asking the same questions.

[numberonedukethomasapologist]

I love the domestic batfam fluff especially the ones we're everyone is just sleeping in Bruce's bed because of nightmares or thunderstorms

But I've only seen one or two fics of Duke and Bruce cuddles?! And I'm to lazy to make a full fic so ima yap bout how I think it would go👍🏾

-Duke most likely would have a nightmare about his parents or have a dream about his mother comforting him and he would wake up yearning for physical touch or words of affirmation

-Bruce has an open door policy since almost all of his kids have can to get in his bed or cry in his presence so he

-It takes Duke a long time after waking up to get the courage to go find comfort in Bruce because I feel like he'd have some imposter syndrome after learning about all the family has gon through together. After awhile he's just so tired an in need of comfort that he gets up and slowly walks to Bruce's room

-He stands in the doorway for a bit just staring at Bruce starting to feel a little bad about waking him up (Bruce woke up the second the doorknob rattled)

-Bruce lays still for a bit hoping that Duke will come on his own but after awhile his sits up and lifts the covers for Duke encouraging him to get in

-Duke takes the invitation and climbs in the side of Bruce and immediately scoots into Bruce's side to receive the warmth he'd been craving

-Bruce rubs Duke back and fixes his bonnet before laying down closer to Duke and pulling him into a tight cuddle (Bruce has that sixth since for what all his kids need in the moment)

-I headcanon that Duke curls into himself when sleeping so imagine Duke scrunched up I to Bruce chest and stomach and Bruce pulling the blob of Duke into a cuddle wrapped around him

-Duke like the feeling and sound of breathing and snoring since his father had the loud father snor and his mother was a soft breather and feeling their chest rise and fall against his head is comforting

-Duke melts at backrubs and yk Bruce's large hand gives the best back rubs and since Bruce has that dad sixth since he rubs duke's back and Duke relaxes into the blob ball even more eventually falling asleep

-Bruce doesn't ask why Duke needed comfort he just kisses into his hair, rubs his back, and whispers to Duke about how everything is ok and that everyone loves him and to go back to sleep

-When Bruce wakes up duke's bonnet is nowhere to be seen and Duke has unscrunched himself and is asleep on his stomach head under the pillow and Bruce just smiles down at him with all the fatherly love he has for the kid

-When Duke wakes up he cuddles closer to Bruce a bit longer as a thank you before going to get breakfast

[jedibinx]

Daily affirmation:

Listen to me you wonderful ball of fluffy anxiety stop and take a deep breath. Unclench your jaw. Unscrunch your shoulders from your fucking ears. Now take another deep breath. Ready? It's going to be fine, and those worst case scenarios that you think are going to come true would never. They wouldn't dare come up against your strength they'd be crushed. You're going to be okay.

Stay beautiful 🖤 💜 💚

[joapmactavish]

hihi! i saw your requests open, so could i request soap, gaz, and ghost (separate) trying to deescalate the reader who's been crying and on the verge of a panic attack because the work stress has been getting to them.

if that's too many characters, feel free to choose one of the three!

apologies for the sad scenario. i had a rough week (´；ω；｀)

first off, im so sorry you’ve had a rough week, know that it’ll get better dude! confide in someone you trust if possible, you’re going to be ok 🫶🏻 - comments are appreciated <3

Soap

he walks into you at your desk, sitting in your chair with your arms wrapped around your legs while tears are streaming down your face. his smile immediately turns into a frown, and he walks over to you.

“oh no sunshine, what happened to ya?” he pets your head a bit and tilts your chin up toward to face him.

“it’s just been so hard soap, im trying my best every single day and yet it keeps piling up. i finish one thing and i’m already handed 4 more, i can’t do it- i can’t!” your chest starts picking up fast and you feel your breathing become shortened.

“woah woah, easy there lass you’re gonna overwhelm your system. take some deep breaths with me yeah?” he grabs your hand and puts it on his heart so you can feel his heart beat, “breathe in, 1-2-3-4. hold. 1-2-3-4-5-6-7, out for 8 alright?”

you repeat that pattern with his help about 6 more times and you start to feel less tense.

“relax, im right here with you. ease your shoulders, relax your neck and unscrunch yer eyebrows.” you follow the steps and he smiles, “that feel a little better hm?”

you nod and he takes you into his arms. he grabs his phone from his back pocket, dialing a number. you hear the ringing and when you hear the name of your favorite restaurant in the greeting you beam up a bit

“can i get uh one cheeseburger - no onions! and eh… let me have a diet coke with it would ya? thanks mate” he covers the phone with his free hand, “you want the usual?” you nod and he orders your usual order. “let me also get one of those ah.. what do ya call em?” he snaps his fingers “those ice cream sundaes, yeah extra whipped cream! that’ll be all.”

“should be here in about 15 or so bonnie, ya feelin a bit better?”

you nod and he sighs in relief, “you need a break, im callin yer boss tomorrow mornin - who cares if i’ve got to lie you’re getting a week off and we’re spendin it together! no work, we can even get out of here if you want.”

“i can’t just leave work like that johnny-“

“ah ah! nonsense, i’ll make it happen.”

you don’t protest against him but rather just accept it and wait for your food to arrive with him.

Gaz

“hey love! what’s u- oh no..” he stops in his tracks and finally hears your crying and heavy breathing.

he quickly moves to where you are and wraps his arms around you - squeezing a bit and pulling you in. the scent of his cologne helps your mind start to slow down.

“easy now, what’s wrong?” he pulls back and searches your face for an answer.

you look down and explain how work has been stressing you out, “i’m so tired gaz, i work all the time without any breaks and it seems like my efforts get me no where. i don’t even feel like i can stop because anytime that i do it just racks up. i know you work a lot and never complain ,i shouldn’t even be making this scene.”

“hey hey… none of that, yeah?” he boops your nose lightly and you smile a bit which makes him smile also, “there’s my sweetheart, cmere. just because i work a lot doesn’t mean you don’t too love, and i want you to know we don’t ever have to compare ourselves - we both have challenges.” you nod your head and he nods back.

- “how about you take the rest of this week off? i know your boss wouldn’t bother letting you go - you’re her best worker! call in tomorrow and we can focus on you.”

(or, alternatively if you’re a student! :>)

- “how about this week you just go in tomorrow, then take the rest of the week off. i know you’ll have to email your profs but your health comes first - yes even mentally. you’re a hard worker and you’ll be able to catch up before winter break love - but what i’m seeing now? you’re going to burn out if you don’t take this break.”

you listen to him and take the break, spending some days alone with him and he even messages his captain that he’s got to keep his eye on you.

“cap sends his best love, we all care about you.”

Simon/Ghost

unlike the other guys, ghost catches on quickly that you’ve been feeling upset. as someone who has his own internal battles, he recognizes easily when someone is fighting theirs. in fact, the night before he sees you rub your temples in frustration before slamming your laptop shut, he doesn’t have a huge reaction because he doesn’t want you to feel embarrassed or upset - instead he minds his business and waits for you to be ready.

although, when the next day rolls by he sees you on the verge of a panic when your whole assignment/document completely vanishes after hours of work. at this point you’re bawling your eyes out and he can hear from his office so he quickly gets up to check on you.

“you alright in here?” he asks, keeping a bit of distance not wanting to intrude on you even though you’ve told him before that he isn’t pushing your boundaries, he prefers to tread lightly and respect your space.

you explain to him what’s happened, or what’s been happening for that matter. not only did your work just vanish out of thin air on your laptop, the workload you’ve received has been insufferable.

you’re the one who initiates seeking him out and that’s when he fully goes to you with a warm embrace, hand on the back of your head holding you softly. “it’ll be alright, i’ll ask one of the guys to help you get that work back love.”

“i’ve been feeling terrible simon, i know i don’t say anything but i think i might just explode - or i kinda have.. haven’t i.” he chuckles a bit and sighs, “i noticed but i didn’t want to make you upset by bringing it up. you’ve gotta be easier on yourself, you do a lot and even though you might not have all your work done by tomorrow you need to take a break for your well being. not for me, for you. promise me a you’ll take a break?”

you nod, “good. i’m glad you’re listening to me for once.”

“hey i do listen to you! when i want to!” you say with a sniffle.

he laughs and holds you a bit tighter, he won’t let you go through this alone. you’re gonna spend the next few days just with him - relaxing till you’re feeling better.

-

I HOPE THIS IS ALRIGHT! thank you so much for the first ask <3 im not like a writer of any sorts but i did try :) i hope you enjoy 🫶🏻

[13as07]

Spitting Image #5

(Gaara Sabaku)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to o3_kurisutarogubo]

Requested by: Myself

Word Count: 3,599

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Gets heated toward the end :)

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     It feels like there are millions of eyes on me as I cut up Yoshiki's fruit to have with his breakfast. The three chefs of the kitchen along with my handmaid - Gou - all look at me like I've grown a second head. I've grown used to the looks over the past week. Apparently, no one in the palace ever does anything for themselves, besides me, I guess.

     "Darling?" Gaara calls again, pulling another annoyed sigh from me. "My darling, please acknowledge me."

"What is it that you need?" I grumble, continuing to chop up the fruit. Things were going well between us. Gaara was succeeding at giving me space and every night this week he has crawled into my bed to cuddle for a while... then this morning when he came to greet Yosh he asked me what season I'd like to have the wedding. Talk about knocking us back to square one.

"I wish to apologize."

     "What?" I asked, snapping my head towards him in a bit of disbelief.

     "I have been reading about relationships. It seems that my constant conversation about marriage is making you feel trapped, that is not what I'm trying to do. So, I would like to apologize."

     "Uh - okay?" I mutter, quickly blinking at the ginger standing next to me.

     "I am sorry for making you feel trapped. I would like you to know that you are free to come and go as you wish. You are free to do as you wish..."

     "But?" I ask, Gaara's gaping mouth and his flickery eyes giving away to the add-on he's struggling with.

     "But, my darling, with me being the Kazekage and us being... there are dangers to Yoshiki and you all over the Great Nations, including our nation and... I don't want you upset but I would like a guard to join you when you go out if Shinki and me are not coming along with you. I'm sorr - "

     "That's understandable," I cut him off, swiping the cut fruit off the cutting board and plumping it into a bowl. "I don't know anything about the village so even if a threat did rise I wouldn't have any chance, so that's not an unreasonable request."

     "Oh," he whispers, slowly blinking at me as the gears in his head shift. "I am glad that we agree."

     "Me too."

     Gaara stays put, the two of us watching as Yosh eats his scrambled egg and diced fruit. "Gaara?" I call after a couple of minutes.

     "My darling?"

     "I should apologize too," I murmur, turning my focus towards him.

     "What do you have to apologize for, my dear?"

     "I'm sorry I tried to hit you last week. I shouldn't take my anger out on you in the first place and I really shouldn't take it out on you like that. I'm sorry for making things difficult for you too. I wish I was ready to get married but... I'm just not there yet."

     "It's alright, darling. When you are ready, I will be here waiting," Gaara mutters, face scrunched up as his hand slowly moves forward. It lands on top of my head, softly patting me as his face unscrunches. "I would like to take you on a date tonight. I would also like to buy you a new outfit for our date but Shinki thinks you'll just buy it for yourself, so I already did. If you do not like it, I shall return it and find you something else."

     With that, Gaara kisses the top of Yoshiki's head before turning on his heels and disappearing from the kitchen.

     My eyes flicker back to our son who's having the time of his life squishing his egg into the plate of his high chair. "Yosh," I call, his head picking up and a huge smile crossing his face once he realizes I'm the one who called him. "Papa is going to take me on a date tonight. What do you think of that?"

     "Baabaa," his voice rings out, trying to say 'papa' like his older brother does.

     "Yes, Papa. Who am I? Am I mama?"

     "Baabaa," he repeats, smashing his fork into his dismembered egg.

     I smile at my boy, enjoying the sweet moment we're sharing. Gaara's talk of the future might terrify me but I can't wait to see the man our son will grow into.

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     The yukata got me is beautiful and probably worth a pretty penny. Gou is tucked behind me, pinning the white material stamped with red flowers to my body. "Gou?"

"Yes, my last?"

"How much do you think my yukata cost?"

"I think Lord Fifth paid eighty-two hundred yen for it, I'm not sure though," she mumbles around the pins in her mouth.

"Oh," I mutter, looking over the outfit in the body mirror again. Gou has dolled me up and, my hair done with a matching pin through my locks. "Where's Gaara taking me?"

"I am not allowed to tell you, my lady. Direct orders from the Kazekage."

"Has Kankuro shown up yet?"

"Yes, my lady. Please stop worrying about Yoshiki and Shinki. They will be safe and cared for while you're out."

     "I can't do that," I mumble to myself, shifting when Gou accidentally likes me with a pin. I'd rather Kankuro watch the boys than anyone else in the village, but I'm still not too fond of the idea. I know Kankuro even less than I know Temari, and I was overly anxious about leaving my son with her.

     "What can't you do, my darling?" Gaara's voice rings out before his hands settle on my hips. They flutter a bit like he can't decide whether it's a good idea to be touching me or not.

     "Calm down," I mutter, settling my hands on top of his, keeping them in place. My eyes scan over his image in the mirror, taking in the matching yukata he's wearing.

     "Why can't you calm down?" Gaara asks, eyes flickering between us in the mirror and the wall of my bedroom.

     "I'm just nervous about leaving the boys home with your brother."

     "Do not take up your mind with worries. Kankuro would do anything for his nephews," he murmurs, trying a squeeze to my hips. When I don't tell him to stop, he squeezes me again... and again. "You look very nice, my dear. Are you ready to go?"

     "As ready as I'll ever be," I murmur, slowly pulling away from his touch. His face scrunches from my movements, what I think is sadness covering his face. "Where are you taking me?"

     "Tonight is the first day of the Prickly Pear harvest. A festival goes on every night of the harvest. We are going there, and then we will watch the stars as we wait for the fireworks."

     "Prickly pear?" I ask, a giggle slipping out. What a weird name for a crop.

     "Yes. They are pears that grow on a cactus. They have the same spikes as a cactus does, hence prickly pear."

      I hum in amusement, making my way out of the room with Gaara in tow. "I've never had a prickly pear."

     "We shall get you a prickly pear then," he mumbles, making me laugh again. 'Prickly pear' is a weird thing to hear Gaara say. "Come here, my dear. You are too far away from me," he grumbles, stepping forward quicker before his arm wraps around mine. "You need to stay close so you do not get hurt or lost during the festival."

     "Is that the only reason?" I tease, tightening my arm around his as I shift closer to his side.

     His eyes flicker to me before settling on our looped arms. "... yes," he whispers, head back on straight as he leads me down the hallway. "Perhaps not," he adds on, cheeks coated in a pale pink.

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Gaara's eyes are locked on me as I enjoy the Prickly Pear Icy he bought me. It's not as exciting as I thought it would be. It tastes like a musk melon. "Do you like your treat?"

"It's good," I mumble around the popsicle. "I like the meat stuff on the stick you got me more though."

"Would you like more? We can go back to the booth," he rambles, head spinning as he looks for the meat-on-a-stick booth we were at a few moments ago.

"No, I'm good," I tell him, using the arm still looped through his to pull him closer. The attempt to calm Gaara works, he - mostly - settles down again. His eyes are still as sharp as a hawk, scanning the festivalgoers for any possible threats. "So, I don't know about you sandfolk, but in the Leaf, there's usual games and such to play too. Do you guys have that here?"

"Of course, what kind of festival would it be if we did not have games?" He grumbles, eyes flickering around the people that shift out of the way as we walk. "Is there a game you have in mind?"

"I don't remember what it's called, but you have these paper paddles and you try to catch a fish with them. If you win you get to take the fish home."

     "Kingyo Suku."

     "What?"

     "The game you are speaking of, it's called Kingyo Suku," Gaara explains before he lets out a soft sigh. "One moment dear," he groans, tugging me in front of him before his hands settle on my hips. The man-handling and added weight to my hips make my chest - and a little more than that - flutter. "Hello Matsuri," He greets the person bee-lining for us.

     "My lord," the girl greets back, bowing her head quickly before straightening up again. "And...?"

     "This is... she's my... this is consort Kazekage," Gaara finally pushes out, stumbling over his words a bit.

     The girl's eyes widen a bit, her smile wavering as she focuses on her village leader. "I didn't know you were married, Lord Fifth."

     "I'm... not," he mutters, using his hold on me to pull me against him. "She is... what is it that I can help you with, Matsuri?"

     "Oh! The word around the village is that you have a second son now," the girl's eyes flutter to me once the sentence is out, her jaw locking a bit before she turns back towards Gaara. "I was hoping to meet him."

     "I do, yes. He is not here with us. I am hoping to introduce him to the village on the last night of the festival. I wouldn't want to take the light away from the village farmers today, and I still need to talk to his mother about her thoughts on it," He answers, his hands jumping up to my arms when he says the word 'mother'. "Soon enough my son will be officially announced, as will his mother, so do not worry."

     "Oh great," the lady says, eyes stuck on me now. "What a... joy for the village. A new prince and our Kazekage has picked his consort."

     "It is quite the joy, yes. Now please excuse us, I promised my consort a festival game." With that, the woman bows again and Gaara quickly shifts us away from her. "My apologies, darling," he mutters once we're out of her earshot, sliding his arm back around mine.

     "What's a consort?" I ask, letting my eyes trail over the lanterns strung around the booths as I replay the interaction we just had. The girl was jealous of me, right? That's what that whole thing was, right? Or am I just reading into it? I think I'm reading into the situation too much.

     "It is the royal title of the monarch's... partner. Usually a wife, but you have made it clear you are not ready for that, so you shall be introduced to the village as my consort instead of my wife." Gaara nods his head in agreement with himself, another one of his ticks that I don't quite understand.

     "What's the deal with the girl that was talking to you?"

     "She was one of my students."

     "I think your student has a crush on you."

     He falls still, eyes sharp and locked on me. "Does that upset you? Do I need to fix it? How would I go about fixing an issue such as this?" Gaara races out, his sight more intense the longer he talks. "I do not wish for Matsuri to have a crush on me, I wish for you to have a crush on me. My darling - "

     I jump up a bit, plopping a kiss on his cheek before falling flat on my feet again, cutting off the panicked Kage. "Stop worrying, Gaara. I do have a crush on you and I don't care that Matsuri does. I was just curious."

     "Oh," he whispers, blinking in his slow 'I'm trying to figure this out' way. "That is good news."

     "Yes, it is," I mutter, curling my arms around his tighter, gluing us closer together. It's not a lie, I do like Gaara. He's grown on me over the past couple of months. He just has a tad of separation anxiety, terrible communication skills - as do I - and a small fear of abandonment, all of which we can work through. All of which scares me.

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     My eyes are turned towards the sky, enjoying the colorful explosions decorating it. Gaara and I are laid out on a sand dune a ways out from the village. He laid out a blanket underneath us to attempt to keep the sand off of us. Sand has a mind of its own so, of course, it's not working, but the attempt is sweet.

     "Gaara?"

     "Dear?"

     "Do they have the fireworks every night of the festival or just tonight?"

     "Every night."

     Slowly I slide my hand across the blanket, in search of his hand. When my fingers bump into his, Gaara stiffens. Despite his reaction, I carefully intertwine our fingers together, his body relaxing once our hands are tied together. "Gaara?"

     "My darling?"

     "Do you think we can watch the fireworks again tomorrow?"

     "Whatever you wish for I will make happen."

     "You could have just said yes," I respond, stifling a laugh that threatens to spill out.

     Our words fall silent, only the sound of the popping fireworks filling the space between us. The sky continues to be temporally decorated, bright reds, blues, yellows, and everything in between coating the sky.

     Once the last sparkle of light falls from the sky, I turn my head towards Gaara, preparing to ask if he's ready to leave. When my sights settle on him, his eyes are already locked on me. I'm thankful for the darkness that hides the embarrassment crawling across my face. How long has he been looking at me? Why must he always be looking at me so tensely?

     "My darling?" I let a hum out, letting Gaara know I'm paying attention to whatever he's going to say. "I... wish to cuddle in bed with you tonight."

"You usually do, Gaar. That's fine by me."

"No, not like that. I... do not wish to leave. I want..." His head turns away from me, focusing on the stars stamped into the black backdrop of the night.

I turn my head too, enjoying the clear skies of the open desert. "Do you want to sleep in the same bed? Is that what you're trying to ask?"

"... yes. If you do not want me to, I will not. I know you said you do not want to share a room."

I turn on my side, our connected hands stabbing into me because of the position. "Gaara?" I call, rubbing my free hand over his chest.

My view of his eyes is cut off as he blinks repeatedly, his chest jumping quickly, and his body going tense again. I move forward more, our noses bumping because of how close to his face I am. "My darling dear?" He breathes out, the words shaky as he scans my face.

The combination of my nicknames makes me smile, my tongue poking out to run over my bottom lip as the thought of kissing Gaara crosses my mind. "Ya, you can sleep in my bed tonight," I murmur, more than kissing slowly starting to fill my mind.

"I can?"

"Yes, if you want to. Do you want to?"

Gaara's head nods quickly, his nose switching from bumping into mine to bumping into my cheek because of his movements. His eyes are blown out as they look at me, a nice difference from the usual slit shape they hold. "Please?"

I let out a strained sigh because of the single word, the thoughts of marriage and another baby not seeming so scary anymore. This is how I got pregnant the first time. Well, not exactly, same feelings and thoughts as that night though. "Okay," I whisper back, starting to pull away so I can stand up.

     The arm pressed under me jumps up, landing on my back and gently pushing me back into please. "Darling?"

     "Gaara?" I ask back, our eyes locked, his slightly twitching like he's not sure what to do.

     "Just sleeping, yes?"

     "Just sleeping," I echo, the smallest part of sanity pushing through the tension of the moment.

     "Can I at least have a kiss? It is customary to have a goodnight kiss at the end of a date, yes?"

     "Ya," I breathe out, Gaara's hand present on my back softly pushing me closer to his face.

     "Then I would like a kiss... then we can go home," he mutters, his lips brushing mine as he speaks, his chest bouncing with anxiety. "And just sleep."

     "And just sleep," I repeat, more for my benefit than his. If I say it enough maybe I'll believe.

     The hand on my back slowly snakes up my body, ending its slithering on the back of my neck. Gaara's touch is soft and slow as he closes the lack of distance between us.

     His lips are rough, bruised, and scabbed over. They taste like chamomile tea; apple-ly with a hint of honey. His hand gets rougher, pushing me against him more as he deepens our kiss. Gaara's tongue pokes out, teasing my lips apart. I give in, parting my lips a bit. His tongue slips in, toying with mine for a moment before he slowly pulls away from me. "Just... just sleep," he mutters, eyes hazy as he looks up at me.

     "Just sleep," I repeat for the third time tonight, slowly pulling our bodies apart.

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     “This is not just sleep,” Gaara murmurs against my neck, his hands eagerly shoving the sleeves of my yukata down my shoulders, the material of it balling at my elbows. His lips travel down my neck, making quick work across my newly exposed skin.

“No, this is not just sleep,” I echo, my hands gripping the front of his clothing.

“We’re supposed to just sleep,” he continues to whisper, hands sliding across the door of the Hokage palace in search of the keyhole. “We should just sleep,” he adds, the sound of the key sliding into the lock filling the empty night air.

“Ya, we should… should just… sleep,” I whisper, tugging Gaara with me as the door swings open.

“Yes, of course. I have a busy day tomorrow,” he mumbles, the two of us stumbling down the hallway. His hands crawl across my body, tugging at my clothes, toying with the hems of it like he wants to slide his fingers under neither but isn’t sure whether he should or not. Our feet stumble just as much as Gaara’s hands, slowly moving us further down the hallway.

“I’m sure you do,” I scramble out, my hands falling to the front of my clothing, tugging on it to part the material covering my chest. “I… I’ll be up early for the boys, so… so we should go to sleep.”

“It would be better than fucking the hallway,” a deep voice rings out, cutting apart the tension growing between Gaara and me.

“Kankuro!” Gaara calls, his hands falling on top of mine, gripping them as he snaps my clothes shut again, effectively covering my bra. “How were the boys?” He grumbles, carefully fastening my yukata back in place.

“They were good, not as good as your night seems to be going,” Gaara’s younger brother chuckles out, finding his cock-blocking funny. “Yoshiki is fast asleep in his nursery, I just checked on him like five minutes ago. Shinki is asleep in his room, just checked on him too.”

“Thank you. Please see yourself out,” Gaara groans, his hands tightening and loosening around the material of my clothes.

More chuckles fall from the older man as he walks down the hallway, the sound of the door opening and clicking closed as he leaves.

“We… we should not just sleep,” Gaara mumbles, slowly tugging apart the front of my yukata again. His eyes scan my face as he does so, watching for my reaction.

“Oh ya? What should we do instead?”

Gaara’s mouth snaps open a few times, his answer stuck in his throat as his eyes jump from my face to my chest. “I should… should fulfill your… bedroom needs. Like last time I got to sleep in your bed. I would like… please?”

God damn it, at this rate, Gaara’s going to get his wish of having another kid before Yoshiki is four. “Whatever you wish for I will make happen,” I tease, repeating his words from earlier.

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[whumpyourdamnpears]

Fruit of the Wicked: Chapter Nine

Content Warning: lady whump, male whumper/female whumpee, POC whump (whumpee is a Black woman), age gap whump (whumper is an older man), religious whump (Christianity), captivity whump

A big thank you to Marz and Gen for beta reading this chapter!

Word Count: 706 Previous Next

The woman in Sarah’s home didn’t know she was watching her.

She tried to be subtle about it, hoping the woman wouldn’t see how often she watched her through the paned glass doors to her daddy’s study. She knew she wouldn’t take too kindly to being watched, if her previous reactions had been any indication.

Sarah knew when to stop. You stop looking before they notice you’ve been looking for too long. Especially with the woman in Sarah’s home. By the time she noticed you were looking, it had definitely been too long. And she’d let you know it, too.

The woman in Sarah’s home was scary when she was angry.

Sarah was grateful for the sound dampening the wooden walls provided. She couldn’t stand to hear the woman’s screams, whether they were angry or scared or because of Daddy. Sarah didn’t ask Daddy what he did once he entered that room. That wasn’t for her to know.

It was for the best that she didn’t know.

It was early morning now. The woman was still sleeping, and Daddy wasn’t awake yet, either. It was one of the only times Sarah could get away with watching the woman without her making a fuss about it, or Daddy gently scolding her for not minding her own. Sarah did her best to put the plates out quietly as she watched the woman’s curled up form on the other side of the doors. She didn’t have a blanket. Daddy said she hadn’t earned one yet.

She was pretty, Sarah couldn’t help but think to herself. She couldn’t make out much of her in the early light outside of the shroud of dark curls circling her head. The parts of her face that peeked out of her hair while she slept were softer than they usually were. Kinder. She wasn’t nearly as scary when she looked like that.

She made a mental note of all the features she’d been able to make out over the course of these past few days when the woman wasn’t looking. Her upturned nose, unscrunched. Her dark eyebrows, unfurrowed. The way the woman’s brown skin looked golden in the patches of sunlight when the sun would rise and set. Sarah liked the woman when she was like that. Not when she was on guard, scrunched up with her arms crossed over her body like a vice grip, pacing around the study talking to herself, and to them. She didn’t say very nice things when she talked to them, though. Daddy told Sarah she should try to tune the woman out when possible. Act like she wasn’t even there.

But how could she do that? The woman’s arrival had changed so much already. Daddy was home more often now, which was nice, but they hardly spent much time together. Most of his attention went to the woman, what his next step with her was, caring for her, etcetera. He’d even begun discussing what would happen when he let her roam the house, the precautions they’d have to put in place so she couldn’t hurt herself, or them. That’s what really scared Sarah about her. She’d already tried hurting Daddy, and God forbid she got her hands on something sharp.

This couldn’t end like last time. Sarah wouldn’t be able to take it.

The woman began to stir in her sleep, turning onto her other side. Sarah looked down at the plate she was still holding and gently placed it onto the table. She should really get started on breakfast, before Daddy woke up, too. She waited for the day he’d tell her she should make a third plate for the woman in the other room. She’d gone so long without a meal.

Before long, the woman’s hand had come up to scrub at her face and pull the curls stuck to her cheeks away. Sarah could very faintly hear her groan through the doors. She hurried into the kitchen before the woman could notice her standing there. She didn’t want to hear what the woman had to say once she noticed she was the only one awake.

Daddy will be up soon, Sarah told herself as she ran to the sink. He’ll take care of it.

Taglist: @flowersarefreetherapy, @generic-whumperz, @heartinthehospital, @deluxewhump, @another-whump-sideblog, @pigeonwhumps, @lektricwhump, @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees, @sowhumpshaped, @vivulapom, @eatyourdamnpears

[virtualgirladv]

...unscrunches you...

oughh