#also one of the things i got distracted on may or may not be my future au pro hero Denki 👀

[l-u-xreads]

"Say My Name"

Hi guys!!! Okay!!!!!! I have been sitting on this story for a good minute, tweaking it here and there until I drove myself crazy! Debating for so long if i wanted to get into writing and actually posting it. I've been sitting on so may stories and ideas that I am excited to share with you all soon. I was SCARED lol ! Go easy on me pleaseeee.. I also will gratefully welcome any criticism and comments. Cheers to my first fic of many!

Lastly, I am open to taking requests! Okay, enjoy! :)

Pairing: Terry Richmond(Rebel Ridge) x Black Female Reader

Summary: A playful bet sparks between Terry and Reader : whose name will the baby say first—"mama" or "dada"? The wager? One night of anything the winner wants.

Warnings: Fluff, Mild Sexual Content / Light Smut, Minors DNI, Teasing and Suggestive Language, Playful Flirtation

Word Count: 2,500+

************************************************************************

There was something so peaceful about Saturday mornings in the Richmond house.

The scent of cinnamon waffles wafted through the air, soft 90s R&B hummed from the Bluetooth speaker, and the sunlight spilled gently across the kitchen floor where Terry stood in gray sweatpants, barefoot, flipping waffles.

You were curled on the couch, your bonnet still on, wrapped in his old hoodie with a sleepy-eyed baby girl perched on your lap. The baby—your baby—had Terry’s bright, feline-like eyes and your wide smile. She giggled, a high-pitched sound that always made your heart skip.

“She’s definitely saying ‘mama’ first,” you declared lazily, bouncing her on your knee. Terry peeked over his shoulder, eyebrow arched. “You wish.”

“I know,” you grinned, brushing a curl off your daughter’s forehead. “I carried her for nine months. We bonded." Gently squeezing her chubby cheeks and kissing her nose. "She knows who gave up wine and sushi for her.”

He turned fully around now, pointing the spatula in your direction. “Okay, first of all, she spent nine months kicking you. That’s not bonding, that’s training.”

You laughed. “Training for what, your side of this argument?”

“She’s a daddy’s girl. Watch.” He strolled over, crouched down to your daughter’s level. “Princess. Say ‘dada.’ Come on, sweetheart. Daaaaa-da.”

She blinked and blew a spit bubble.

Laughter echoing through the room as she clapped her hands, proud of herself for being cute. “She’s trolling you already,” you said smugly, standing to carry her over to her high chair.

Terry took her from you, brushing a kiss on your neck in the process, his lips lingering a second longer than necessary. “Mmhmm,” you hummed, raising an eyebrow. “You trying to distract me?”

He smirked, placing the baby in her chair. “I don’t need to distract you. I just need to make a bet.”

You turned, arms crossed. “Oh?”

“If she says ‘dada’ first…” He stepped closer, his voice dropping a notch. “I get one night of whatever I want.” You tried to play it cool, but the warmth that bloomed at your cheeks and down your chest betrayed you. “Whatever you want?”

He nodded, voice playful but husky. “No rules. No time limit. Whatever I want."

You tried to stay composed, but a grin cracked your lips. “Fine. But when she says ‘mama’ first? You do that thing I like.”

“The thing with the—”

“Mmhmm.”

“Oh shit, bet.”

“Deal?” he asked.

“Deal,” you said, sealing it with a kiss that started off innocent but lingered with just enough heat to make you pull away before breakfast got too cold.

********************************************Day One of the Bet

You both tried everything.

During tummy time, you whispered “mama” like it was a secret spell. Terry? He sang “dada” like it was a nursery rhyme hook.

At bath time, you cooed “mama” while wrapping her in a towel like a burrito. Terry read her bedtime stories replacing every third word with “dada.” You caught him showing her flashcards.

FLASHCARDS.

Day Four of the Bet

Terry woke up to the sound of your voice.

“Mama. Can you say ‘mama’? Say ‘mama’ for mommy.”

He cracked one eye open and caught you sitting on the edge of the bed, the baby in your lap, both of you bathed in soft morning light. “Cheating,” he grumbled, voice gravelly with sleep. “This is cheating.”

“She wakes up when I wake up. Not my fault.” You turned to look at him. He rolled onto his side and pulled you both into his arms, smothering you with sleepy kisses. “Mmm. You’re lucky you’re fine.”

“I know,” you said, pressing one back onto his jawline.

She squealed. You paused.

“She’s gonna say it,” you whispered, holding your breath.

She burped. Terry cackled.

Day Seven of the Bet

You both stood at the sink, washing bottles side by side like some domestic sitcom couple. You were in a oversized t-shirt turned "nightgown" and Terry had been eyeing you all morning—especially after you bent down to grab the bottle scrubber and he caught a glimpse of your panties underneath.

“You wear that on purpose?” he asked lowly, rinsing a nipple of the bottle way too slowly. “Wear what?” you said innocently, leaning forward just enough to tease him.

“Oh, you dirty for that.” Terry sending a gentle slap to your ass. You smiled sweetly. “Motivation for winning. I like to keep the prize warm.” you winked.

“Mmm,” he murmured, stepping behind you and letting his hands slide around your waist. “Well now I have to win.”

Leaning back into his chest. “You always say that.”

Terry lowered his lips to your neck. “And I always do.”

You were about to retort when you heard a noise from the baby monitor.

A gurgle. A babble. And then...

“Da-da.”

You froze.

Terry blinked. “Wait—did she just—?”

You both sprinted to the nursery like it was an Olympic event. She sat in her crib, giggling. “Say it again, baby girl,” he begged, breathless. “Say ‘dada.’”

She clapped. You tried not to look completely crushed. He picked her up, spinning her gently in his arms, and she laughed like it was the best day of her life.

“Say ‘mama,’” you said hopefully.

“Daaa-da!” she squealed. Terry’s eyes met yours, triumphant.

Walking toward you, baby on one hip. “I believe you owe me one night. Of whatever I want.”

********************************************That Night

You had just put the baby to sleep when you walked into the bedroom and found Terry already there, lights dimmed and shirtless.

He smiled slow, the kind of smile that made your stomach flutter. “You ready to pay up?”

You slipped your robe off slowly, wearing nothing underneath. “I’m a woman of my word.”

He sat up, eyes running down your body with open appreciation. “Good. 'Cause I’ve been thinking about this shit all week.” You climbed onto the bed, straddling his lap. “One night of anything, huh?” He leaned in. “Anything.” gently moving your hair out of your face.

“I’m a little scared,” you teased, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You should be,” he whispered, before capturing your mouth in a kiss.

It was the kind of kiss only a man who knew exactly how to love his wife gave. He kissed you like it was date night, prom night and honeymoon night all rolled into one. Like it was the last kiss he would ever give you. Something to remember.

Your body against his bare chest. His hands found your hips like they were made to live there, thumbs brushing over soft skin as you leaned in close.

He kissed you deep, with heat and hunger that had been simmering since Tuesday. His mouth moved down your neck, slow and purposeful, like he had nowhere else to be, warm breath ghosting over your skin.

Leaning you both back a little. “You know what I want?” he said against your collarbone.

“What?” smiling, curious of what he was about to say.

“I want you exactly like this—on top. Slow. Eyes on me. Not saying a damn thing but my name.” "Show me how much of a winner I am."

You swallowed hard, your thighs already tightening around him. “Whatever you want... daddy,” you whispered, and then you kissed him like you meant it—deep and dirty and full of the promise to make good on everything he’d asked for.

Somewhere between his mouth on your chest and your hand trailing down between you both, you forgot who technically won the bet.

Because tonight, it felt like you both did.

Later, breathless and tangled up in sheets, he whispered, “Next baby’s saying ‘dada’ too.” You laughed against his chest. “Oh, is that part of your evil plan?”

“Mmhmm. Two for two.”

“Well,” you sighed, pretending to consider, “I could be convinced to give you a rematch…”

He grinned. And you knew the bet wasn’t really about winning. It was about laughing in the kitchen. Sneaking kisses over bottle warmers. Being a team, even when competing.

And loving each other, deeply, wildly, every single day. But still…

Next round?

You were definitely winning.

***********************************************************

I feel like I could make a bonus to this as like a "Morning After" kind of thing.. Let me know!

L-U-X <3

[i-love-zelda-16]

just beat spirit tracks. and oh my goddess, i love this game.

listen to this song while you read this.

my honest thoughts. will be writing Spirit meets the chain. it is obligatory.

holy hylia this game is absolutely incredible. i played this game at one of the most difficult periods of my real life and it brought so much joy to me. who knew that a “silly” little zelda train simulator game could’ve made me so happy.

each area of the world was developed and none of it felt empty whatsoever. i literally never used fast travel/portals because 1. the overworld theme is such a bop, 2. i just love traversing the overworld because it is fun. there are always places to stop, bunnies to catch, and things to do along the way!!

speaking of the overworld theme, the music is my favorite music in the entire series, maybeee tied with skyward sword. nintendo, i am begging you, give my train simulator a full remake with an orchestral soundtrack, this game is incredible and it deserves it.

okay spoilers ahead!! read at your own risk!!

some part of me broke and will forever stay broken when Zelda mentioned Tetra. that’s really when the tears started (although they started much earlier too) and never stopped.

the character development of all the characters is absolutely incredible. Link isn’t just a silent Hero, he’s an engineer and full of funny actions and facial expressions. as much as i like botw Link, these kinds of Links will always have the #1 spot in my heart. Zelda is silly and fun and by no means useless or a damsel in distress whatsoever. in the final battle, she is the one stunning Malladus (with Link’s help). Link would be 100% dead without her. NOT TO MENTION BYRNE, HOLY HYLIA. what the character development; this man is incredible. so is his theme. he literally saved Zelda’s life. he may have saved Hyrule. Anjean, my beloved. Linebeck III, my sweet little bratty guy.

and can we talk about zelink?? they are the cutest. i like them 1000x better in this game than any other i’ve played (i’ve played about 16 games). absolutely adorable relationship, nintendo really got to flesh them out since Zelda is literally link’s companion for the entire game.

the mechanics are also incredible. train maneuvering is easy, but not too easy that i can just sit back and relax while i listen to the bop of an overworld theme, i still have to pay attention. blowing the whistle is so fun. train design and even lore is so peak. during that first segment where you have to sneak Zelda out of the castle, i didn’t even realize until after that it was a tutorial for the Tower of Spirits. think about it. patrolling guards (phantoms), winding corridors, distracting guards, drawing a path for Zelda to follow on the floor, the guards can see Link but not Zelda (reversed in Tower of Spirits, they can see phantom Zelda, but not Link). what an incredible tutorial, didn’t even realize it was one in the first place.

Tower of Spirits was probably the only part of the entire game that i have to criticize, amazing idea, and it was executed fine, but it could’ve been so much better. first of all, each segment was like a dungeon within itself, and i think they could’ve made each one a lot smaller. i was in Tower of Spirits 4 for like 4 hours 😭. probably something similar with Tower of Spirits 6, although i played that over the course of multiple days so it wasn’t as bad. the staircase leading up to each level was absolutely genius, made so much sense lore-wise and it was also just fire as hell.

the connections to Wind Waker absolutely broke me in the best way. Zelda mentioning Tetra as i said before, the stained glass window of Tetra in the castle, Hyrule encyclopedia states that the guards in the castle wear green after Link from Wind Waker, the ancient gold coins having the Triforce on them; the Triforce and Master Sword are irrelevant in this story because they were lost at sea at the end of Wind Waker. this game is not in Hyrule but New Hyrule, a landmass which Wind and Tetra found after the events of Wind Waker and more specifically Phantom Hourglass (which i haven’t played, let me know in the comments if i should!!). so because of these differences, you would think it would be very disconnected from the rest of the timeline. yet somehow, it feels so unbelievably connected in such wonderful ways that make my Zelda lore brain go absolutely insane. i want to scream of joy when i think of what the devs gave us with this game. these connections are exactly what i wanted and what i try to make with Breath of the Wild and Tears of the Kingdom, but the devs just refuse to give them to us and it’s annoying as hell. the royal crest of their kingdom does not have the Triforce, but has the symbol of the Spirits of Good because that makes so much sense. everything makes sense in this game and i love it.

the boss fights are fire, especially the final ones. the final sacred duet is so epic and beautiful, seeing everything you’ve worked for, all the Lokomos, it’s unbelievable.

and finally, the post-credit scene. this scene will change based upon what answer you choose to Zelda’s question before you head off for the final fights. she’ll ask, “what do you want to be when all this is over?” or something like that. Link has 3 options: engineer, warrior, or “dunno”. each one of these options will change the final cutscene that plays after the credits. personally, i chose “dunno” because, 1. realistically, how is Link supposed to know what he wants to be yet? he is just a kid, and although he has studied to become an engineer, he has learned of his (debatable? sure, Wind made his own destiny… hmmm…) destiny intertwined with Zelda’s, so he’s a warrior too. which leads me to my second point, 2. he’s an engineer and a warrior. (ARGHH I KEEP TYPING WARRIORS, IT’S ENGRAINED IN MY MUSCLES XD). he doesn’t have to decide, he can be both. but… that’s not an option soooo “dunno” it is.

this game is beautiful beyond words. i’m debating to say whether this game is my favorite or not, but for now, let’s just say it’s tied with Skyward Sword for my favorite. i cannot understand why someone couldn’t see the joy and hilariousness of this game, not mention the absolutely way-too-epic-than-they-have-to-be-but-the-devs-gave-us-this-amazingness-so-i’m-not-gonna-refute cutscenes. like, seriously, the camera angles, facial expressions, everything, it seems like something out of a movie rather than a DS kids train simulator game. this game is one a kind, so freaking special to me, and i will never forget it ever.

may you rest in peace Anjean, Byrne, and the rest of the Lokomos. can’t say the same about you Cole and Malladus.

Spirit will be meeting the Chain soon. stay tuned folks <3

[see-arcane]

Okay so he does not write for 17 days from the 6th of June.

Now I understand that Mina compiled only writings that have to do with Dracula. Aside from the beginning where she establishes that she is to go to Whitby with Lucy and by including the proposals she introduces their relationship to three of the key players for the hunt. After that, she does not include any correspondence that may exist between herself and Lucy until they unite in Whitby, because it would naturally be just personal letters about "unnecessary matters" that she mentions in the prologue.

But I wonder if Jonathan has kept journaling to keep himself sane like he has said writing does, but she thought that there is nothing in there that gives new information about vampires and the Count. Like she included about how he tampers with mail, setting it on fire, but it is important to cover the reason why they all thought Jonathan was safe all that time. The theft of his belongings is also important to explain later why he got nothing to remind him about himself when he got amnesia for weeks. So there may be more things he wrote but she didn't think they add anything to the narrative.

Could be! Though my theory tends to lean towards a combination of paranoia, despair and practicality keeping him from writing anything other than what we see.

Paranoia - Every time Jonathan takes the journal out is a chance for Dracula to catch him at it. It’s a gamble whenever he uses a moment of questionable ‘privacy.’

Despair - Much as writing can distract from misery, sometimes you’re just too miserable to make yourself put anything down when everything is either the same or a worse flavor of horrible. I wouldn’t be up to recording every bit of psychological torture on a daily basis in his shoes.

Practicality - Limited amount of pages. Potentially only one pen with its set amount of ink left. I don’t see him risking using up either on anything other than noteworthy events that add to his store of information. General vampire hell shenanigans can go unwritten.

[obtusewafflee]

HAPPY!!! BIRTHDAY!!! UNDERTALE YELLOW!!!!!! It's still the 9th where I am so this still counts right guys right guys right gu

This silly little fangame. This silly little fangame man

I genuinely do not have the words to express my love of uty so I drew this instead and made myself cry several times while doing so in hopes that it gets the message across well enough

Long story short AGSUSGH. I LOVE YOU UTY

[mariska]

listen. when fortnite does a fan-favorites style mortal kombat character collab and the majority of ur fortnite friends list buddies are around the same age as u and tend to enjoy a lot of the same media/character collabs that u do but this specific collab sadly did not include ur all-time fav MK character and actual MK game main (mileena. my love)

.... u work. with whatever remotely similar skins and accessories and emotes that you've got .

[windor-truffle]

I forgot to mention earlier but chapter 7 of Two Hearts Could Be One went up yesterday, and Side Chapter I just went up today! These ones are all about the time skip, everyone is very lonely :')

[uchiha-gaeshi]

I’m calling off my SI/OC fic.

[vault81]

found my notepad list of locations to get screenshots of for the travel log series!!!! I thought I lost this lol

[macchiatosdumptruck]

.

[bernardsbendystraws]

⋆˚𝜗𝜚⋆ Doll .ᐟ Reader x Chris x Matt

Making a sex tape...

⚠︎ CHRATT AU, smut, raw p n v, filming, squirting, overstimulation, P!LINK at the end!!!

“O—oh, fuck!” you scream, your thighs aching from the relentless amount of pressure, each pulse of your heart echoing throughout your entire body.

“C’mon, Doll, you can take it,” Chris soothes,  holding one of your legs, forcing your pussy to be exposed as Matt pummels into you at an angle. 

The camera is propped in Chris’ free hand while Matt looks in the viewfinder, smirking as he sees the wetness of your folds captured perfectly.

This would come in handy. You thought about it long and hard when they proposed the idea of making a sex tape, and you really wanted it—not as much as they did, but it was fun to see you so eager to put on a show for them. 

“That’s it, Dolly, c’mon—smile for the camera, sweetheart,” Matt coos, petting the indent of his bulge inside your stomach as your mouth drops open with sinful moans. 

He’s so deep. The way Matt and Chris have you sprawled open leaves no buffer, leading Matt to reach deeper than he ever has before. 

Chris hesitantly reaches down. He knows you wanted to go slow since you were a bit camera shy at first, but your puffy clit is just begging for his touch and he needs to hear you scream.

Afterall, this film will be for them. Weather it was while they were traveling on tour or for the moments they had to suffer hearing you being fucked through the walls. It was all for them. 

And so is the absolute mess you’re making. 

Wet slick drips onto the bed sheets beneath you. Matt slows his pace enough to take a quick view at the way you’re leaking for him. Well, for them. 

Chris keeps his hand as steady as possible while holding the camera, his other hand keeping your thigh spread wide as the lewd slaps of skin echo through the room. 

“Chris, I—” your words are halted as Matt drives into you with a mind-numbing force, slowing his pace down so you truly feel every single thing. 

The jolts of your body makes Chris’ cock twitch. He leans down, swallowing around your nipple before pulling back up, staring at your fucked-out expression with lust. 

Chris takes matters into his own hands. He clutches your leg tighter, swinging your knee behind his neck. He spits on his fingers before placing them directly on your clit, your leg tightening behind his head as he smirks with pride. 

“There we go, good fuckin’ girl. Keep ‘em nice and spread, alright?” he tuts, circling the hooded bud, watching as it becomes swollen and exposed. 

They know they’re making you feel good. Screams and moans of ecstacy pushing through your lips tell them all the words you’re failing to say. 

Matt curses as your slick walls clamp around him, making it harder to plunge in and out of you. Leaning the slightest bit forward, he smiles sickly at the way you cry out for him, clutching onto anything and everything as your body twitches and jolts. 

“God—oh my—-Matt, Chris!” you scream, a clear liquid spraying everywhere. 

Matt groans, burying himself inside you deep before letting himself come undone. 

Chris is aching to be touched, any longer and he would've cum untouched, but someone had to catch everything on film and make sure it was perfect. 

However, he may have gotten a little distracted at the end…

“Chris!” Matt swats at him, taking the camera to see the viewfinder fogged by your liquids covering the camera. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask, your words slurred as you try to peep open your eyes. 

Chris smiles sympathetically, wiping the stray hair on your face behind your ear before petting over your cheek sweetly. “You got another round in you, Doll?”

A/N: Inspired by all the horny anons in my inbox last night. Here's a couple links from them (ily) also @sturnioz this is me doing ur cam request (im so sorry I legit forgot 😭)

P!LINK - link - link - link

·˚ ༘ ʚ 𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒊𝒈 𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒔, 𝑹𝒐𝒔𝒆 𖧧

꒰ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ๑ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ๑ 𝐂𝐎𝐏𝐘𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ꒱

[borderlinereminders]

If you’re someone who needs reassurance from loved ones that they love you, that’s really valid. But the way you ask for it matters. Hinting at it with comments like “nobody loves me” can actually be hurtful to your loved ones. It’s also a good idea to try and reassure yourself first!

The truth is that for a lot of people, giving reassurance constantly is exhausting. It can lead to issues in a relationship over time, and negative feelings on both sides because they may end up avoiding the other person. This is especially true if someone doesn't ask for reassurance directly but hints at it with things like "No one cares about me."

My advice is if you are finding yourself struggling is to first try and self soothe either with skills or things that have helped in the past. Here is my post on self-soothing ideas! And if that doesn’t work, then ask for it in a healthy way.

Some other examples.

Keep screenshots, letters, cards etc that affirm you are cared about by your loved ones. You can even ask someone to give you a recording of them saying it that you can listen to. Bonus: Keep these things in a self-care box that you can use in times of crisis and pull out that has other things in like affirmation cards, favourite treats, self care items, etc.

Examine the evidence. By this I mean try and keep a list of things they've done to show they care about you. For example, I have a list of things my partner has done for me besides saying "I love you" of both big things and little things that I can read when my brain decides to be rude to me and make me doubt he cares.

If the other person has done something specifically to make you feel they don't care, it's important to step back and look at the situation and check the facts. There's a difference between someone lying to you or doing something intentional and someone not replying to you because they got busy. Here’s my post on checking the facts!

Here’s a post on Challenging Irrational Thoughts!

ACCEPTS is a really good skill for distractions! Here's a post on it.

TIPP is a good skill if you are needing to calm down in immediate crisis. Here's a post on it.

If you're having urges to accuse your loved one of not caring, consider Urge Surfing (here's a post on it) and then using a skill or plan that helps you.

If you aren't able to self-soothe that's so valid! It really is. I recommend trying it because sometimes you will be able to. But then sometimes you won't be able to and that's okay. In this case, if you need to get it from someone, ask directly for it instead of doing it in a guilting/passive aggressive/hinting way. You might say "Hey. I know you care about me, but my brain is being rude. Can you please give me some reassurance?" instead of "Sorry I'm such a bad friend/person/burden/etc".

It might also be worth having a conversation when calm with the other person to establish some boundaries and ideas for communication.

For example, if your friend regularly feels drained by you asking for reassurance, they could set boundaries on how often they're okay for you to ask for it.

You both might decide that they will try and message you randomly to offer reassurance because it can mean a lot when that happens.

This might be where they send you messages/recordings/etc that you can read in times of need.

If the friend is doing something specifically, even unintentionally, that makes you question things then it's really valid to have a discussion about it! I recommend using some I-Statements or other communicative skills to talk about it. Even if they aren't doing something wrong, it's still valid to talk about your feelings and see if you can come up with a solution. For example, maybe it's really hard on you that they disappear randomly for a couple days when their energy levels plummet. And this causes you to spiral and think they're ghosting you or etc. In this situation, maybe you and your friend come up with a solution where you establish a single emoji (specific for this purpose) that the friend can send with low energy that says "Hey. It's not you but I'm feeling drained and need to not reply for a bit."

[foldingfittedsheets]

When I was in third grade I got Weird with writing. It makes sense in hindsight. Oppressed people find their own ways of carving out space for themselves.

The first bit I did landed me in trouble more immediately. I was given, god knows by who, one of those enormous giant pencils. I loved it. My tiny nine year old body was consumed with love of this pencil that was roughly 1/3 of my height. I insisted that I would only use this pencil in school.

It was an unlucky year to be stricken with whimsy. My third grade teacher was a tyrannical Japanese woman fueled by her dislike of children. I suspect the cultural divide between how she expected children to behave and the reality of American children broke her.

She was three foot nothing and getting berated by her was the first time I’d ever looked down at an adult. I also saw her once standing next to her white 6’ behemoth of a husband and tried to conceptualize how two such disparate people had sex. I never could.

If you think I’m exaggerating her wrath it’s worth noting that my best friend at the time developed a stress disorder from this woman and I fell into a bizarre stutter that cleared up the moment I was out of class. In her classroom breaking down crying was a weekly occurrence.

But despite the frigid conditions, I persevered. I stayed silly. I brought my enormous novelty pencil to class every day. It was an act of rebellion that I sank my teeth into and refused to let go. I could barely sharpen it because its girth defied standard sharpeners the way I defied my teacher. This was my pencil.

When she attempted to confiscate my giant pencil I rose an unholy ruckus. This would not turn into the confiscated holographic Charizard, my tamagotchi, or my little pop frogs that she never returned to me. No. This was my goddamn pencil. There was no rules against enormous novelty pencils and after a heated week of debate she finally conceded I could use the hated thing.

It was stolen by my kleptomaniac friend a week or so after that a fact I’d only discover at the end of the year. But my tiny mind was convinced the evil teacher had stolen it.

In retaliation, instead of resuming normal behavior I decided that I would do all my writing upside down and backwards. No one, least of all myself, could explain why I felt this was necessary. Maybe I felt I’d be cool like a spy, maybe I just needed to buck the teachers hateful authority, or maybe I was just a little autistic kid.

When taking notes or writing essays I’d arrange the paper to be upside down. It may surprise you to know that my penmanship was actually quite decent, albeit I wrote a little more slowly than my classmates. That’s why it took the teacher a while to realize what was going on. There wasn’t a drop in the quality of my writing.

Unsurprisingly she hated it when she found out. She lambasted me both privately and in front of the class to write normally. I asked if my writing was illegible. She had to admit that no, it was not. I shrugged. I did not see a problem.

Like the pencil my new writing fixation was cited as being a distraction to the other children. But similarly she didn’t have an easy way to make me stop. She marked me down, gave me several talking tos, and generally bullied me into writing like everyone else.

All attempts at correcting me simply ran off my back. I had found a way to cope with how miserable she made all of us, by inflicting misery back upon her. I was unswayed for the rest of the year.

When I graduated up into fourth grade and had a teacher I adored it suddenly stopped. I looked at the paper and thought, Well that’s silly, and flipped it the right way round.

I can still write upside down, though, a testament to my worst year in public school.

[planetallure]

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ dark!fic recs

CW: once again, these works contain dark and explicit themes that may be upsetting or triggering to some. please use your discretion and discernment.

@cherienymphe : when i first seriously got back on tumblr and got into dark!fanfic, cherie's was one of the first blogs i found. her writing was essentially my indoctrination. it was terrifying how much i loved it/her writing. truly phenomenal. i've read quite of few of her stories (mainly for rafe cameron, jj maybank, steve rogers, and peter parker) but i'll list my faves.

"when the party's over" - its something about this series...i think about it often. if you're into forced pregnancy or corruption tropes, tap in.

"wicked games" - i actually first read this one on ao3 before i discovered her tumblr and was absolutely gagged. another one i think of often.

"amnesiac" - the first series of hers that i ever read. absolutely traumatized me and i sobbed reading it. amazing storytelling.

"the hills" - another bangerrr. a one night stand ends in complete and total blackmail and entrapment. he just wanted to give her a better life *clown face emoji*.

"his father's son" - after ward death, rafe takes over the reins in more ways than one.

"teenage dirtbag" - this series single handedly made me a jj girl. the tension??? yup yup mhm.

"the less i know the better" - ironically my favorite part of this story is readers relationship with rafe but seeing jj slowly and then rapidly descend into madness? yeah.

"claimed" - a/b/o dynamics. brought me back to my wattpad days. still eat it up.

"daddy dearest" - steve meets a single mom and decides to be not the stepdad, but the dad who stepped up.

i'll be honest, i was a non believer in dark!peter but: "she's with me", "one last time." "suburbia" and "basic training" made a believer outta me. hands. down.

@lambtotheslaughterr : it absolutely amazes me the things that come from her mind. the level of creativity and originality needs to be studied. oona, you are criminally underrated.

“rise” - the first series of hers that i read. arguably the best series i’ve read on here thus far. this is the first part to her “the day the world ended” universe and it completely blew me away. i couldn’t believe that something like it had come from some silly little boat show. just brilliant.

“when the bough breaks” - the first work of hers i read. this one for me was a heartbreaking slow burn story, but the smut…makes up for it. yes yes.

“i burn” - sex!addict reader x rafe cameron. need i say more? actually, i will. the smut and tension in this one towards the end? it was shameful how turned on i was.

“one way or another” - buckle up, grab a snack, and prepare for the ride of a lifetime. that’s it.

“something wicked this way comes” - a single mom trying to escape her past, except her past is rafe cameron. this was one very spooky scary la la.

"summit" - the second part to the tdtwe universe. its still brand new but its already feeling like another banger, i mean it's oona. tap in.

@harryspet : rae was also apart of my indoctrination and boy did she do what needed to be done. her perfectly curated moodboards alone did it for me. very mindful, very demure.

"homestead" - what can i say...i'm a sucker for pregnancy stories :( and this series was no exception. absolutely delectable. enjoy.

"well kept" - classic millionaire ceo x reader, my younger wp reading self cheered gleefully. my love language is acts of service and boyy was this one speaking my language. had me at "scheduled braiding appointment."

"bambi eyes" - this one was one of those that made me want to take a good long look in the mirror and ask myself, "is this who we are...is this what we represent?"

@sherrybaby14 : this one is for the mcu girlies. more fics than you could ever ask for. everyone say "thank you, mother!"

"the distraction" - i'm starting to notice a kidnapping/stockholm syndrome pattern here...ANYWAY! work is realllyy stressful for steve and you just happen to be the perfect distraction.

@straywords : she's no longer active but her incredible writings remain so please, peruse. its like a beautiful museum over there.

"a break" - *gasp* another pregnancy story! stucky edition.

@darkficsyouneveraskedfor : an icon, a legend, she is the moment! another infinite library for my mcu girls. roo has all you could ever want or ask for.

@perlelune

"all too well" - yes, yes, another one, its who i am. rafe cameron proving once again that you can't escape him.

"lucky" - best friend!rafe x reader. he didn't know what he had until it was almost gone

"tag, you're it" - never read a scream fanfic before this one but boy did i have fun! chad is so pookie in this too :(

@honestsycrets : back when i was in my miguel era, sy single handedly kept me fed.

"starved | mio" - "mio", in which you babysit mayday and it gives miguel baby fever and "starved", in which he made you a mom...but its left less time for other activities.

"stung" - sex pollen/abo. reader gets bitten by an anomaly causing a reaction that only miguel can cure

"amor y respeto" - he just can't love you the way you need to be. so you and miguel break up...at the worst possible time.

"exclusive" - you and miguel are fuckbuddies. you want more, but miguel can't bring himself to give it to you. so you find company in hobie, who's there for you in all the ways that you need. miguel's not happy about that.

"canary" - you're a singer in the 1920s who's fallen in with the dangerous o'hara brothers.

"grande" - sex!worker miguel x assistant!reader. think...a pepper x tony kinda dynamic. except, miguel doesn't take kindly to certain slights. :)

@starfxkrinc : last but certainly not least! moony is a ridiculously talented writer and a mutal of mine. i found her early on during my resurgence on here. this is her new side blog (rip lovesickbrat and starfxkr!!) luckily she was able to salvage a lot of her past works and is back like she never left. i recommend her "western nights" series (really just the trailer park!jj tag in general) and her "ode to eaters" au. a queen of all things taboo. she does it for the girls who are drawn to the dark and scary. the gross and weird. <3

[sttoru]

‘satoru hates arguments. even more so when your conflicts cause your baby daughter to be upset as well.’

☀︎｜tags. (girl) dad!gojo satoru x female reader. fluff, angst, comfort. mention of arguments between parents. comfort & happy ending, though!

satoru hates having arguments with you. he hates it whenever an argument turns into the silent treatment. he apologises and apologises — yet nothing helps to change your mood sometimes.

ever since you got married and had your daughter, you were a bit more sensitive to the smallest of things than usual. it wasn’t like satoru despised you for it; in fact, he understands that motherhood was and is stressful. that man was nothing but supportive to you.

though, your little arguments were indirectly having an impact on the mental state of your baby. you didn’t even know an one year old could sense the tension between her parents.

“mama, mama!” your daughter appears out of nowhere, waddling over to you standing in the kitchen. she had barely just learnt how to walk. her tiny hand reaches for yours and she points at the doorway with her other, “go, mama, go.”

you curiously let your little girl lead you towards where she was pointing at, only to arrive at the living room. satoru was sitting on the couch, idly staring at the ceiling, other hand fiddling with one of your daughter’s toys. he seemed deep in thought. even exhausted and clearly not his playful self.

“mama, go! mama go papa.”

satoru’s head turns to the side at the cute sound of his favourite little girl. he smiles brightly at her return to the living room, only for his smile to fade just for a second at the sight of you next to her. he isn’t mad at you—more like sad that you still seemed upset with him.

your daughter tugs at your index finger. she apparently wants you to go to her dad—wants you to interact or talk with him. her big eyes were staring up at you with a pleading look in them.

you were in a dilemma. of course, you wanted to put your daughter’s mind at ease. you could just fake interact with satoru—or actually just make it up—but there was still a small part of you that needed time alone. you weren’t yet mentally ready for another confrontation. you needed time to think it out.

however, part of you also knows that your earlier argument was kind of silly. you don’t even fully remember what it was about, that’s how irrelevant it was to your brain.

“c’mon, pumpkin. ‘tis not nice for you to bother mama while she’s cooking.” satoru’s soft voice startles you back to reality. he had already gotten up and crouched down to pick your daughter up in his arms, kissing her chubby cheeks to distract her; “mama’s busy, ‘kay? let’s go play with papa.”

even satoru knew that your argument had caused your little girl to feel some kind of stress. she didn’t fully comprehend the situation, though she was clearly uncomfortable by the fact that her parents were not acting nice and lovey dovey like they usually would.

“no, papa. mama!” the baby whines and points at you and then at satoru, her little legs kicking. it absolutely broke satoru’s heart — shattered it into pieces. oh, how he wishes to never fight with you again. the sight of his little bundle of joy trying to mend things between you two with all she could was simply too much.

satoru looks down at you and notices the way you look at your one year old as well. the same way he did; with guilt and sadness. he sighs softly and without further thought, wraps his free arm around your shoulders and brings you close to his body.

“c’mere,” satoru murmurs as he holds both your daughter and you to his chest, “let me hold my two girls, yeah? may i, sweetheart? please.”

your husband asks for your consent. if you were okay with this—even when he needs it desperately, to hold you again in his arms and to make it right to you—your comfort comes first. if you weren’t ready yet to make up, he’d let you go. even if it’d hurt him immensely.

you don’t answer with your words and instead let your actions do the talking. you wrap one arm around satoru’s torso, the other cradling your daughter closer to both you and him.

it was like nothing mattered anymore in that moment, except for your little family. your worries, stress and anxiety about everything and anything had vanished into thin air as you felt the embrace of the two people you held dear.

your daughter finally giggles—a sound satoru and you had greatly missed. you close your eyes and just rest against your husband’s body.

“mama papa, wuv!” the little girl squeals in happiness as she excitedly babbles on, causing both satoru and you to laugh as well. the white-haired sorcerer leaves a big peck on the baby’s forehead before doing the same to you.

“mhm, papa loves mama veeery much.” satoru hums and kisses your forehead again, solely because he missed being affectionate to you, “papa loves his sweet little angel too.”

you can’t help but chuckle along with your one year old—who seemed to be extremely content in her parents’ loving embrace again. this is how it always should be.

“mama also loves papa very much.” you reply, causing your husband to regain his usual big grin. he finally got what he longed for; to have you look and talk to him with love. your silence may have lasted only a few hours, but it felt like it had been a couple cruel months to the sorcerer.

your eyes meet his again and all was well. you smile at him and he smiles back before leaning in to kiss you gently on the lips. satoru’s arm that was draped over your shoulder moves down to curl around your lower back, pulling you as close to him as your bodies would allow.

he pulls back after a few seconds and just lovingly stares at your face again—eyes holding an affection only you had ever been able to witness. your eyes told the same story; nothing could separate you two. ever.

“waaaaah! mama papa, me, me!”

the romantic air between you two suddenly gets interrupted by your daughter’s excited demands. she was demanding kisses as well, puffing her cheeks up as she got ready for it.

“ohh? seems like our angel wants some kisses too.” satoru laughs and nods his head at the baby in his other arm whilst looking at you, “shall we?”

you giggle and nod back—not able to refuse your little girl any longer.

it was not long before the living room fills with the sounds of your child’s laughter, which was caused by the continuous kisses and tickles she was receiving from both satoru and you.

[starmocha]

Oh oh oh since we're sharing pregnant mc hcs, how about one where they got a bit carried away, they did it, she got pregnant, he "died", by some miracle she didn't lose the baby, she's an excellent, doting, badass mom. then when he comes back he finds the love of his life with a little 1 year old baby girl that could be considered mc's perfect clone except for the eyes. the eyes are his. IMAGINE THE ANGST THE HURT THE TEARS THE LOVEEEEE!!!!!

🫵 are you guys using my Caleb-addled brain to sneak around my “I don’t take requests” condition. /lh 😔 this is who I am now, I guess. I see Caleb, I cave… 🥺

Endless Summer

It was an ambush, another attempt on his life.

It was the thirteenth time in three months, as a matter of fact. Caleb had thwarted all of the previous attempts with ease, always on guard, untrusting of those who claimed to have vowed their loyalty to him as their colonel.

As you learned, you couldn’t trust anyone in Skyhaven, much less the Farspace Fleet. Dark secrets surrounded this seemingly elite entity and though it appeared like the place ran like a machine with perfect precision and efficiency, there was still an insidious side that Caleb refused to let you see.

It wasn’t just his life they were after. They were after yours as well, using you as the ultimate pawn to get to him. Little do they suspect, while you may be his greatest weakness, you were also his strength, his sole reason to persevere.

This was to be a fatal lesson for many to learn.

It was supposed to be a celebratory banquet, thrown in honor of the Farspace Fleet’s Colonel’s latest achievements. There were no deceptions by the hosts, but a traitorous group seized this opportunity to trap the young colonel and all doors within the banquet halls locked, keeping many of the guests hostages in the process.

Within the center of the room, Caleb calmly eyed all of the familiar faces that loomed overhead on the second floor as all around, innocent guests rushed to the exits, banging and screaming for help. He tried to push you away, get you to safety.

They were after him, after all. You didn’t need to be in the crossfires.

You didn’t have time to react, hearing that first gunshot that led the way for the onslaught of bullets.

Something in Caleb snapped that night. The barrage of bullets that came at him and you from all directions would have taken down anyone, but they all froze midair only because of his Evol freezing them in their track and keeping them suspended as if time had frozen at this very moment. He soon, however, learned it was merely a distraction.

Ca…leb…

The moment he saw the crimson blood seeping from your side, that knife pulled out quickly, and you were falling, eyes closing, as he ran toward you yelling your name. His Evol flared out of control, the gravity in the room suddenly immensely heavy, as dozens of men were pulled to their knees in futile struggles.

Open your eyes, he pleaded, his uniform soaked with your blood. His face twisted in pain, a million thoughts rushing through his mind, all of the memories of the past resurfaced in quick successions. All of those years of smiles and laughter that transitioned to pain and distrust only to slowly return to some semblances of the past were now coming to an end before his very eyes. He couldn’t lose you like this, not when he had promised that he would make things right again, to be the man that you deserved. Please…please…

You struggled to breathe, the pain unlike anything you had experienced in your life. As he watched you teetered closer to death, he was filled with wrath, an anger that could not be calmed by any forces in this world.

Caleb held his hand out, and a gun laying on the floor levitated before it rushed into his grip from across the room, and without a thought or any remorse or even hesitancy, he fired bullet after bullet into each man’s head, a clean shot straight through the center, not flinching even as the surrounding guests screamed and huddled to the floor, covering their ears from that violent, horrid sound.

When the last traitor fell, Caleb dropped the gun with a clatter, and his arms wrapped entirely around you, pulling you closer to his body for warmth. Your breathing had weakened even more, but he could still save you. He hadn’t failed you. Not yet, not ever. You were going to live. He would make sure of it.

Even if he now realized you were safer away from him.

Colonel Caleb, you had only slept for four hours last night, the robotic voice of an OTTO said with some semblance of concern in its artificial vocal. It levitated after its owner as the young colonel adjusted his uniform. The robot continued, explaining, An adult man of your age requires ei—

“I’ve slept enough,” he interrupted firmly, ignoring the robot, whose monitor quickly displayed a digitalized look of concern. Caleb had thought often of shutting down the robot and dismantling it, but he could never carry through, remembering that he had purchased this robot for you.

In this cold, monotonous so-called-home of his in Skyhaven, Caleb had few things that reminded him of you. A few plushies you two had won together sat on his living room couch, some snapshots you two had taken together at a photobooth, and perhaps a few furniture pieces you had ordered to be sent directly to his home. You had been in the process of bringing warmth and life into this place when everything came to an abrupt stop.

If he hadn’t taken you to that banquet that night nearly two years ago, Caleb wondered how things would have played out. You wouldn’t have gotten injured that night, but he feared perhaps it would just delay that same outcome. That night, he found himself at a fork in the road, forced to make a decision that would change the course of both of your lives.

Keep you by his side, where he had foolishly believed you would always be safe under his protection, or, let you go, let you believe that whatever had happened that night, he was the one who had died, finally taken away by Death himself. It was better to let you believe he had actually died this time, to keep you from searching for him, to keep you far away from Skyhaven—to keep you from him.

Since that night almost two years ago, Caleb’s nightmares had worsened. He relived the dreadful night, but he had also had other terrifying dreams so horrendous, he would wake up screaming in cold sweats, completely disoriented, unsure if he was trapped within another layer of the nightmare, or if he was truly awake.

“She’s safe, she’s safe,” he would often mutter to himself, an attempt to convince himself that he had made the right choice, that setting you free was the only way he could keep you safe. As long as you lived, he would bear the weight of his sacrifice, even if it meant never seeing you ever again.

It was sunny in Linkon, not a cloud in the sky, and the weather warm and inviting, but to Caleb, it was a place he had forbidden himself from ever stepping foot in again, out of fear that your paths would cross. In all of those times since he had distanced himself from you, allowed you to believe he was dead, he had managed to avoid any reason to step foot in the place that was once his home.

When his adjutant, Liam, had informed Caleb that his schedule required him to attend a conference meeting in Linkon, the young colonel stiffened, the atmosphere in the room stifling almost as if he was using his Evol. He suppressed his initial instinct to yell, knowing Liam was well aware of Caleb’s situation and had in the past made the necessary arrangements to prevent him from having any reason to step foot in that city.

It seemed he couldn’t stay away from Linkon forever, so he resigned to this situation, still remaining vigilant in his stance. Linkon was a big city, and there was no reason for your paths to cross. He would make do with this troublesome situation for the time being.

Now, Caleb had intended to return to Skyhaven the moment the meeting ended, and yet, against his better judgment, he found himself wandering down familiar streets, lost in memories of happier times. As he walked, before his eyes, he saw the silhouettes of him and you as children running down the street after school to your favorite little vintage grocery store.

Caleb, you dummy, you can’t use your Evol!

Don’t blame my Evol because you can’t run fast on those short legs, pipsqueak!

Caleb chuckled. He couldn’t help it. The memories of those years seemed so much more carefree. He often wished to go back to that time when the only things that weighed on yours and his shoulders were school or silly childish arguments.

As he approached the old grocery store, closed just a few years prior, he was surprised to learn that it was now under new ownership. The familiar place of his childhood was now a small trendy café, popular with college students and young couples.

To his astonishment—and, perhaps, also relief—the vibrant hydrangea garden in the back remained. Bushes of the white, blue, and pink flowers bloomed in the garden, showing that its new owner took well care of the plants. They looked like the hydrangeas of his childhood, of those long summer afternoons that never seemed to end as he and you made this place just another secret hideout only you two would ever know. As he walked down a beaten path, distracted, he was stirred out of his nostalgic thoughts when he felt something bumped into his leg. He peered down, surprised to see a little girl in a light orange dress, the same color as the sunset he used to see in his airplane when he was a pilot, was clinging to his leg. He looked around, not seeing any adult in sight to indicate they were the child’s guardian.

He furrowed his brows, a little in annoyance, as he was not prepared to suddenly be grappled with the responsibility of a lost child. He knelt down lower, and immediately, he startled as he took in the little girl’s appearance, a near perfect carbon copy of you, but the eyes—he stared into sweet little violet eyes that mirrored his own, seeing his shocked face reflected in these orbs. The girl looked up at him with curiosity, the wind swaying her short bob while a little yellow chunky cartoon airplane hairclip held her side bangs in place.

Suddenly, she started tearing up, breaking Caleb out of his trance and for the first time in a while, he felt panicked, unsure of what to do. The girl started to cry and Caleb immediately lifted her up, her head resting onto his shoulder as he rubbed her back and soothed her.

He shushed her gently, his caregiver instinct reignited after years of dormancy. “Why are you crying, sweetheart?” he asked her gently, his soothing voice a complete opposite to the tone he used as colonel.

The girl sobbed. She looked so young, Caleb realized, surmising that she probably had barely started learning to speak.

“Are you lost?” he asked in that same tender tone despite knowing the child would be unable to answer him. He continued, “You miss your mommy, don’t you?”

He rubbed her back again, wondering with trepidation if this child’s mother was who he thought it would be. For just a second, his heart stopped when he felt the little girl gripping the fabric of his uniform with her small hands. Quickly, he recomposed himself.

“It’s alright,” he whispered, his hand smoothed the back of her hair. “Let’s go look for your Mommy, alright?”

“Ma...ma…” the girl struggled to say. She rubbed her face against Caleb’s shoulder, and he smiled gently, unbothered that his once pristine uniform was now covered in a child’s snot.

“Okay, mama,” he repeated, “I’ll help you find your mama, sweetheart.”

When he was just about to turn around to head back to the café, he froze again, hearing a familiar voice he hadn’t heard in years. He could feel his heart beating against his chest, actually feeling every heavy thump as the seconds passed and the voice grew closer, a name cried out—the little girl’s.

The child in his arms wriggled, and cried louder, seeing her mother over Caleb’s shoulder. “Mama! Mama!”

Stiffly, Caleb knelt lower and gently set the girl down to her feet, barely registering as the child toddled passed him to her mother.

A completely different feminine voice called out, angry. “Were you trying to kidnap a child in broad dayli—”

Caleb stood up and turned around, his face pale.

“Cale…Caleb?” You stared in shock, feeling like you were seeing his ghost again. Again.

“Mama…Mama…!” Your daughter nuzzled her face against your chest as you held her. You broke out of your trance and instantly redirected your attention to your child. You quickly soothed her, well aware that Caleb’s eyes were locked on you, his face just as shocked as yours but for entirely different reasons. Once the little girl calmed down you passed her off to your companion, saying, “Tara, take her back to the café.”

Tara looked at you worriedly, her eyes darting to Caleb with suspicion. One look into Caleb’s eyes, seeing that same, perfect shade of purple, and the young woman quickly understood the situation. She nodded quietly and took the girl from you. “Come on, sweetie, auntie Tara is going to buy you a cupcake, okay?”

You waited until Tara and your daughter were out of sight. You couldn’t look at him. You wanted to look at him, to make sure your eyes were not deceiving you, to make sure that this was not an illusion, not a cruel, mocking figment of your imagination. But you couldn’t. You felt cowardly in that instance, being afraid of the truth. Afraid of his reaction. Of everything.

“You were…you were pregnant?” he questioned, feeling a wave of guilt washed over him.

Just hearing those words made you realized this was him. This was Caleb, the man you thought was taken away from you. Again.

Suddenly, you broke down crying and you looked up at him with tears running down your cheeks.

“Caleb, you dummy,” you sobbed, “You fucking dummy!”

He gasped, unprepared when you rushed at him and started beating his chest half-heartedly with your small fists as you continued to sob and curse him over and over again. He let you carry out your anger, let you punished him as you saw fit in this moment, but when the punches weakened, he gently grabbed your wrists, lowering them to your sides before his arms wrapped around you in comfort, his apologies immediate.

“Yeah,” he agreed in that ever familiar soft and gentle tone reserved only for you, “I am a fucking dummy.”

You sniffled against his chest, gripping tightly the lapel of his coat.

The afternoon passed slowly, initially tensed and awkward, but eventually all of the missing pieces of the puzzle fell into place, and you both struggled to come to terms with the picture of the missing years. You peered at the man to your side, seeing Caleb hunched over, his cap in his lap, looking much like a sinner struggling to come to terms with his wrongs.

“You didn’t know,” you whispered after a while, wanting to break this stifling silence. You reached for his arm, but he tensed before his shoulders slumped again.

“That’s no excuse,” he said, looking up at you. He started to reach for your cheek, hesitating at the last second, as if he was afraid that you would recoil from his touch. He started to pull back but you grabbed at his hand, guiding it to your cheek. He stared in shock as you nuzzled your face against his palm, and you gazed at him with glistened eyes.

“You’re not allowed to die again,” you scolded him. “Promise me that.”

He nodded numbly, his voice clear and steady. “I promise,” he said, repeating in a more hushed, firm tone, “I promise.”

He leaned forward, guiding your lips to his, his words still repeating in between breath. You let him drown you in his kisses, let yourself dizzied and relent to his feverish promises. When your lips parted, just a few centimeters, his warm breath grazed over your trembling lips before he pressed another kiss to your forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I... will you…”

You looked up, seeing the struggles in his violet eyes. He appeared to hesitate again, unsure of what right he had to seek your forgiveness, wondering if he was overstepping the boundary between the two of you.

You gently coaxed him, seeing relief washed over his guilty features. “Will I what?”

“Will you…let me make things right?” he asked, “Let me…earn your forgiveness. I…please…”

He almost wanted to say, I can’t lose you again but the words died at his lips. He, of all people, had no rights to utter such words in your presence. He looked so defeated, beaten down to the point he no longer recognized himself anymore.

You took his hand, just like you always seemed to do, and you pulled him to his feet, to his surprise. He gazed at you questionably, his heart stopping at your words.

“Caleb,” you said his name so sweetly, “I want you to meet…our daughter.”

The summer air was warm even as the sky darkened, and stars after stars appeared above to illuminate the world below. The gentle breeze ruffled Caleb’s hair as he stared down at the sleeping girl in his arms. Maybe it was because she was still so young and impressionable, or perhaps she could already sense who he was to her, but the girl clung to him immediately, already feeling safe and protected in his presence.

His heart felt heavy, overwhelmed by guilt, a feeling of failure, and also of self-loathing, but as he gazed down at his daughter, another feeling stirred, just as intense but much more forgiving. He didn’t think he could feel such love as he did now as he peered down at the sleeping girl, nuzzled against him on his lap, peacefully slumbering away.

He wondered what she was dreaming of as he admired how much she resembled her mother. Hesitantly, he let his finger caressed her cheek, in complete, silent awe at how soft and delicate her skin was. He was almost afraid of hurting her, feeling a need to protect her just as he protected her mother. He looked up at you, his cheeks and ears reddening when he realized you had been laughing at his expense.

“It’s alright,” you told him amid your giggles.

“You’re laughing at me.”

“You deserve it, you big dummy.”

He let out a huff, in mock annoyance, but he agreed with you. “Alright,” he conceded, “I deserve it.”

“Do you want to begin your path to seeking forgiveness from us?” you asked him, a playful, teasing lilt in your voice, unmissed by Caleb as he raised a brow in curiosity.

“Just like that?” he questioned, confused by your leniency with him.

You nodded. “You still love me, right?”

“I’ve never stopped,” he said, his solemn words had you blushing against your better judgment, your heart quickening when he looked at you so lovelorn. You quickly composed yourself, returning to your mischievousness from seconds ago.

“You love her, right?” you asked, your eyes shifting to your sleeping daughter in his arms.

He sighed, mesmerized. “So much already,” he whispered, and again, you found yourself softening, touched by his sincerity.

“Okay, we’ll forgive you,” you answered, catching Caleb’s attention as he looked at you almost bemused by your easygoing attitude. “First step.”

“Which is?”

“You have to make us your specialty,” you said, laughing at Caleb’s look of complete bewilderment unfit for a colonel of his status. Clearly, you had blindsided him completely with this first condition. You clarified with a mischievous twinkle in your eyes, “You have to make your braised chicken wings.”

He stared at you as if not comprehending your words. You laughed and leaned closer to him, your head resting on his shoulder. “I ate a lot of braised chicken wings while pregnant,” you said, reminiscing to that lonely period in your life without his presence. You reached over and brushed your daughter’s flyaway hair out of her face, continuing softly, “But they weren’t as good as yours.”

Caleb let out a huff of breath, a soft, resigned laugh as he readjusted his arm, letting it wrapped around you as he pulled you closer into his embrace. He leaned over and kissed the top of your head. “Okay,” he answered, “I take it she also likes braised chicken wings then?”

You leaned into him, nodding once. “She’ll love yours more,” you said, and then looked up, your heart quickening again as you gazed into his beautiful violet eyes, grateful that your daughter had chosen to inherit this sole feature from her father. Breathlessly, you uttered softly, your words for his ears only, “She’ll love you.”

“And you?” he whispered back, that same hesitancy still prominent in his tone. He looked at you expectantly as he asked, “Do you still love me?”

“I’ve never stopped,” you echoed his words back to him, continuing in that same hushed tone, “I’ll always love my dummy Caleb.”

“Alright,” he said, his voice resigned, holding you just a bit tighter, as if he was afraid this was a cruel, taunting dream he would wake up from.

As Caleb watched your eyes closed, he looked down, eyes darting from you to his daughter, and he wondered if he deserved any of this. In the warm summer night, surrounded by the blossoming blue and pink and white hydrangeas, he silently apologized for his mistakes, promising that for the remainder of his life, he would become a better man, deserving of both of you.

Just like the little boy from long ago, once he had made a promise to you, he would never break it.

He swore it on his life.

[tossawary]

The funniest "early family reunion" on the Death Star / crack canon divergence AU that I can think of right now is Darth Vader and C-3PO. Threepio gets separated from the others somehow and ends up running into Darth Vader in some random hallway, and it's just a real "What." moment for Darth Vader. (Threepio is screaming in terror and begging for his life, of course.)

Because, like, that's the droid that HE built for his mom. That's the droid that followed his wife around during the Clone Wars. What the fuck is Threepio doing HERE??? NOW??? Did Obi-Wan (Vader has still caught the Kenobi vibes on the station here, obviously) have Threepio for the past NINETEEN years? That asshole. That sounds SO annoying, too. Good. Obi-Wan deserves that.

Thankfully, this is not as catastrophic as Vader getting R2-D2, because Threepio has had a memory wipe and no one ever tells Threepio much of anything (he's got some information on the Rebellion but most of it is outdated, especially after the destruction of Alderaan). But Threepio has spent the past two days or so hanging out with Luke Skywalker, and also witnessed the destruction of the Lars farm, both of which as revelations may cause Vader to flip out in weird ways. (Artoo is STILL around too??? That traitor.) Possibly, this may be enough of a distraction to allow Obi-Wan to actually slip away and live, but maybe not.

The important thing is that Threepio is taken off the Death Star somehow, so he can become "Death Vader's gaudy gold-plated protocol droid who has anxiety and is annoying as hell but Vader takes him EVERYWHERE". Imperial soldiers from random troopers up to genuinely important Admirals occasionally have to deal with "droid-sitting" duty while Vader is out doing scary, evil Force of Nature stuff and they all hate it, because Threepio never shuts up, has a knack for wandering off (he's trying to pull a daring escape) and nearly getting himself torn to pieces (people have actually gotten hurt trying to follow him), and most people don't have the guts to just turn Darth fucking Vader's pet droid off for a little while. Vader COULD just reprogram him or put in a restraining bolt or take Threepio's legs off, but he can just pick Threepio up with the Force, so it's whatever to him. (There IS a tracker installed, but Threepio doesn't actually know where to run anyway.)

Threepio's official role is "translator" for Darth Vader, which Threepio has somehow taken to also mean "mediator". So, whenever an Imperial officer is getting threatened by Vader, there's a stuffy protocol droid behind him saying things like, "Oh my! I'd listen to him if I were you! What happened to the last fellow was rather unpleasant," and, "It's impossible to get good help these days, isn't it, Master Vader?" and it sucks. The only one who could really do anything to stop this is the Emperor and Darth Sidious couldn't care less about his apprentice's latest purse dog droid.

Unclear whether or not Vader at this point actually has any real fondness for this piece of his past / reminder or his lost loved ones, is just super lonely, secretly thinks Threepio's surprisingly deadly antics are funny, or is using Threepio as bait for R2-D2 (come get him, you little fucker) and the others. Might be a combination of all these things.