#and in turn she tries to GIVE it to him as a show of trust now that she has the freedom to do so 🥺🥺🥺

[jarofstyles]

Strawberry Sunrise 2

Hello my angels, here is part two of gymrry! 💪🏼 I hope you guys enjoy him

Part One

Check out our Patreon with 200+ exclusive writings and early access

Warnings- mentions of violence, stalking, sexism, misogyny, self defense training

WC- 3.3k

Harry was exhausted physically, but mentally he felt more awake than he’d ever been after a long day of sessions. 

Sitting at the smoothie bar, he sipped on a PB Choc shake that Y/N had ready for him after he was done with his last session of the day. He tried to pay her, but she’d insisted yet again that he was helping her out so the least she could do was give him a free drink. Harry was a tad bit pathetic in how much her genuine smile made his heart race, but instead he nodded and let her finish up her closing duties. He’d offered to help but her eyes had narrowed and she had pointed at his drink, so he decided to leave it be.

Besides, it gave him time to observe her. 

The ponytail was slightly falling now, a few pieces of hair around her face and at the nape of her neck as she wiped down counters. Her tank top with the gym name on it was slightly loose on the torso but clung to her chest. Yoga pants were her choice of bottom, which, fuck- he had to avert his eyes from those considering he had to get up close with her soon. He had to teach her so he wasn’t about to have a stiffy when he showed her how to throw a punch. As attracted to her as he was, these sessions were to help her feel safe. He’d rather have an arm chopped off than be another one of those men that she felt creeped around her. 

It was no secret that Y/N was attractive. She was probably the prettiest girl he’d ever seen, if he was being honest with himself. It was discussed between staff and other trainers about how beautiful she was and how her personality was only elevating the physical beauty she had, because the girl was sweet as pie. She was the type that remembered everyone’s birthday and made sure they got a free protein cookie or gym shirt, and put a few decorations in the break room even in the short time she had been here. Y/N was someone a lot of women felt comfortable enough to go to when someone made them uncomfortable, using her power and access to the private security guard (Who unfortunately left before her) to have them escorted out. It had made it all the more upsetting to Harry to know she had felt defenseless over the guy waiting outside the night before. 

Unfortunately he knew it was a reality for all women. He had a sister, a mother, multiple women as friends and it infuriated him to know that her experience wasn’t an uncommon one. It had made him more than proud of her, actually, when she asked him to help her. To take your personal security and safety seriously was a big deal, even if you shouldn’t need it in the first place. The hope was she’d never need to use them, but he was relieved that she trusted him enough to ask him to teach her. 

The doors at the front were locked so no one could get in, Y/N giving them a few tugs to make sure it stuck before she turned on her heels to face him. Clapping her hands together, she nearly bounced over to him with a spring on her step that he envied, grabbing her water bottle she’d left beside him. “Okay! Let’s get started. I promise not to keep you here for a long time, 20 minutes should be fine- but I realized last night I’d probably break my hand if I threw a punch.”

Yeah, that was exactly what they’d want to avoid. 

“We don’t have to rush unless you’ve got to get out of here. All that’s waiting for me at home is a fish tank and some tea.” He assured her, leaving his bag at the smoothie counter as they made their way towards the training area. 

“Oh- I thought you had a girlfriend?” She asked curiously, undoing her ponytail. Hair fell down to her shoulders momentarily as she ran her fingers through the roots, fluffing it out before smoothing her hair back to fasten into a new ponytail. “That girl that came in a few times, pretty red hair?”

“Oh, no.” Harry shook his head. She’d noticed that? It was interesting that she had. “She’s a friend’s girlfriend. Amanda and I go jogging sometimes but she and her girlfriend are my mates. She’s a chef, though, so she brings me stuff to test out since she specializes in health foods.” He could see it seeming much different to her though. “I’m single, chronically.” The need to clarify was there, maybe seeming a little desperate but hey- apparently he’d not made that clear enough.

“She was super nice and pretty, so I assumed. But I made an ass out of myself with that, didn’t I?” Her laugh was lighthearted but he swore he saw her smile get a bit bigger as she raised her arms up to stretch them over her head. “You’ve got fish?” 

“No, I don’t think so. It’s natural to assume things sometimes. But as for the fish- I do.” He nodded, feeling a little happier himself. Y/N noticed that he had a visitor and seemed happy it wasn’t his girlfriend. “It’s a hobby, I’ve got a saltwater tank. I’m not home enough for a dog, even though I really would like one. Fish are beautiful, relatively easy if you make sure you do the cycling upkeep, and don’t need to be brought out for walks. Besides, I don’t think they miss me too much when m’gone all day.” 

“Oh, god. I get it. I’ve got a cat and she’s a menace when I get home. It’s like I’d been off to war, she likes her snuggles but gets mad at me so she grumbles when she sits on my lap.” Her laugh rang through the gym. A beautiful sound he’d love to hear more of. “Fish are cool though! I watch some of those guys who build ponds on YouTube and all of that when I can’t sleep, makes me wish I could have one in my place. I’ve just got a balcony though.” 

“I’ve been saving for a house, so I get it. I rent small because I don’t need a ton of space for just me.” It was clean and tidy, upgraded with the food appliances and a comfy bed, but Harry wasn’t home all that often. Even if sometimes he wished he was. There wasn’t much to come home to. Maybe he’d be more inclined to get the house search on if he had a partner or something, but as of right now he was happy to stay where he was. “Uh, I meant to ask what you know but you said you were worried about breaking your hand during a punch. Let me see how you make a fist, please.”

In all reality he could spend hours just chatting with her, but if he didn’t try and get to the point they’d be there all night. As nice as it sounded to him, he doubted she wanted that. 

“God- don’t judge me too harshly please. I’ve always been a lover, not a fighter.” Y/N curled her hand up into a fist which she could see immediately wasn’t correct by the look on his face. “I appreciate the effort but I can totally see you wincing right now.”

“Sorry! M’sorry, I just… here.” With cautious fingers, he helped her unfurl her fingers. “You don’t want your thumb inside. It’s far more likely to break that way.” He began arranging the fingers as they needed to be. “You’re gonna want t’have your thumb on the outside… like this.” He murmured, the warmth of his hand a contrast to her cooler one. “Between your first and the second knuckles right here…” his touch was gentle as he adjusted her smaller fingers in the fist. “Near your index and middle. There.” Releasing her hand, he showed her on his own hands. “See? Like this.”

“Okay- I see. I always forget if it’s in or out and then I go with it because it feels like it would protect the thumb but, I’ll remember now.” She sighed, mirroring it with her second hand. “Where do I hit?”

“Easy, Tiger.” Harry laughed, letting his hands fall down. “You’re going to want to remember that the first thing you want to try is to get away first. That’s always the first option, escape and run the hell off. Make noise, get attention from other people. There’s power in making a scene.” From self defense classes he’d taught before he decided to take the shorter form and give it to her now. “You don’t know what people have. I don’t want to scare you, Y/N, but people are unpredictable. The most important thing is your safety, so getting away is the most ideal thing. But if you can’t, you want to make sure you have a good stance so they have less of a chance in grabbing you or knocking you over.” 

Planting both feet on the ground, he left his knees unlocked and kept his arms raised close to his body. “Shoulder width apart, arms up at your sides. Try it.” He stood next to her to show her, gently using his foot to nudge her legs a little further apart as he moved towards the front. “Put your dominant side leg out more in front of you. The worst thing to do is to have your knees locked because it’ll be easier to knock you over.” Rocking on his legs he demonstrated the right way to move, which she followed. There had been no doubt she’d catch on quickly, but he was still impressed. “Are you following along? This is just a crash course and we can meet again to go over more specifics but even just a little bit of this stuff can make or break you.” 

“I am. I really am interested in knowing it all, so keep going please.” She encouraged, eyes bright and determined. It was ridiculously cute in his opinion. “So what if someone grabs your arms?” 

 “If someone grabs you? You pull down. There’s more momentum that way and you’re likely to break free versus if you go up- may I touch you?” The permission was granted with a nod, his hands gripping firmly on to her forearms. “Try moving up, and then down.” 

Y/N followed instructions, immediately seeing the difference in it as she got her arms freed from his grip on the down pull. “Okay, I see. I’ve always meant to go to a self defense class but I’ve put it off… I’m really glad you were there last night. I was nervous to ask because I didn’t want to be overreacting but… I wasn’t sure.” A shrug of the shoulders followed her words. “I didn’t think the guy was gonna hurt me or anything but I didn’t know what he wanted. Why he was staying after I already said no.”

“No.” Harry said gruffly. “No. You don’t give them the benefit of the doubt, Y/N. The first priority is always to protect yourself. Even if you find it embarrassing after and no harm was meant, it’s always better to be safe rather than sorry. There’s nothing wrong with asking for help. You should do it.” The idea of her not asking because she worried about how it would come off made his chest hurt. 

“Listen, I think that our intuition is the best gift we have. It’s there to protect us, down to the most biological level. So if you felt the need to have protection it’s because your body knew it needed it. Okay?” His voice softened up at the end. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound like that, but I’ve seen what happens when women aren’t taken seriously. When guys think they’re overthinking or crazy. My sister…” he paused. “She was hurt because people told her she was overreacting, so she doubted her intuition. She’s okay now, but I’ve never forgotten about how she asked for help and people assumed that she just didn’t need it.” 

Harry didn’t talk about that period a lot. In all honesty, it surprised him that he’d even brought it up, but Y/N had gotten to that soft spot in his defenses and reminded him that he could be the one to help her avoid that sort of pain that he knew his sister had to go through.    

“I’m so sorry something happened to your sister, Harry.” Y/N whispered. “I promise I’ll listen to you and take your advice. That’s why I asked you. Something felt wrong and it was because there was no reason for him to be there waiting for me like that, and your car was in the side lot so he couldn’t see it… he thought I was alone.” Swallowing the lump in her throat at the thoughts of what If, she wrapped her arms around herself to self-soothe. “I know I watched a lot of true crime a couple years back and I used to think I was just being paranoid, but it was a wake up call. It wasn’t the first time I’ve dealt with a guy not taking no for an answer and thinking persistence was something that would wear me down, but it was the first time I felt that level of unsafe. My stomach hurt just looking out there.” 

Harry could only imagine. As much as it tugged on his heart to grab her and hug her body to his chest, he didn’t have that right. Not yet, anyways. “Christ, I know. He gave me the creeps too, if I’m being honest. If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think you overreacted and I think you’re incredibly brave to ask for my help. It’s exactly what you should do. You need to protect yourself at every turn, even if it’s exhausting.” 

“I know. I do, I did for a while but I didn’t think about it happening while working here. A lot of people ignore me most of the time which is fine, some flirt, but no one’s made me feel outright uncomfortable or unsafe before at work. I used to have one coworker back at a store I worked at that would be a bit too persistent but he left me alone after a while. I realize now that I should have said something back then.” 

“Y/N, I don’t want you to ridicule yourself for your past mistakes or actions in general. You made it here, you’re safe and you made the best decisions you could for the world that’s taught you that. But now, I want to teach you how to make sure you can get yourself out of any situation that could come up.” He felt sick at the idea of her having to use these skills but even for his own state of mind, it would help him feel better. 

“Okay.” She nodded, giving him her eyes. It felt like a hit to his chest, stealing his breath.  “Did you want to do more of this, then? I don’t want to keep you for too long because I know if I’m tired you must be exhausted. Can we plan to meet up again?” Harry was pretty sure his exhaustion had to be on his face for her to say it, but he had to agree. Today had been an unusually filled day, so next time he hoped to be able to do more. 

“That sounds good. We can text about it some more if you want to make a little schedule, but if you’d be comfortable you can meet me out at a park or something. I’ve got a nice one near my building if you want to do something in daylight. I think we’ve both got Wednesday’s off?” It was a wonder for him how luck had been on his side with coinciding days off, but he watched her nod and the ponytail she’d pulled back a few moments ago bouncing along with the motion. It was difficult for him not to be gross and think about holding said ponytail again, but he reminded himself that this wasn’t for his personal wants. She was trusting him with teaching her so he had to keep it in his pants. 

“Yeah! I’d love to do that.” She agreed easily. “Can I see your fish tank, though? Not trying to invite myself to your place, even though I kinda am. I just think it’s really cool that you have one.”

“Course, I don’t mind at all.” His chest felt lighter at her own willingness to go past just a coworker sort of thing and initiating getting to know more about him. “I’ll stay later and work on emails at the smoothie bar for the rest of the week then, make sure I’m here to walk you out. I’ll see if I’ve got some other self defense supplies too. I ordered some a while ago t’keep in my car and I know they accidentally sent me an extra taser.” They didn’t. He’d ordered it last night. 

“Oh, really? That would be so lovely of you to let me use it. I’ll pay you back for it.” Grabbing her water bottle from the side of the mats, she turned and surprised the hell out of him by wrapping her arms around his neck for a hug. It took him a second to reciprocate, blinking a few times in shock as he planted his palm over her back. He hoped to god he smelled decent and that the fact he’d had to use the soap the gym provided instead of his own today had been enough.

“Thank you, H. I really appreciate it. I love working here, but you’re so nice to me it’s crazy. I know you don’t have to do any of this for me but you’re going above and beyond and I.. I can’t think of a way to thank you.”

Harry prayed again that she couldn’t hear how hard his heart was beating- or at least thought it had something to do with the training as she rested her cheek against his chest and sort of snuggled in. It was by far the best hug he had ever had in his life. If he could have one of these a day, the stress level would most definitely be brought down. He’d almost bet on it. The feeling in his tummy swirled as he chuckled to disguise just how much he liked holding her, giving a gentle squeeze to her body. It felt so right to have her body pressed against his own, like she was meant to be there. “You’re lovely, Y/N. Course I’d do it for you. You’re a real gem, y’know that? It’s rare to meet someone with genuine kindness like you’ve shown everyone here.” It was crucial that she knew that he saw it. “As for a way to thank me?” 

He had a lot of ideas on that, but he settled on the more savory and far less inappropriate answer. Y/N was his little crush, but he wasn’t sure she had a clue. “All I want is for you t’keep yourself safe, come to me or call if you feel uncomfortable… and maybe a few extra shakes.”  He’d take a PB Choc or Strawberry Sunrise she made any day. 

“Mmm… You’ve got yourself a deal.” Y/N’s face was bright despite the tired eyes she had, pulling away from the hug. Immediately he mourned the warmth and plush of her body. If he could pull her back into the embrace without it being weird, he would. A new addiction. “But for now, you’ll act like the fierce protector you are and walk me to my car, yeah?”

“Anything for you, pet. Let’s go. Need to feed the fish.”

[cissa-calls]

Foreword to Agatha All Along

After years of waiting, tomorrow witches, marks the anticipated start to Agatha All Along! But, before the first two episodes stream, it's time to take one last crack at discussing some possible theories (and hopes) for the series:

Akin to how Wandavision was an exploration of American Television sitcoms, this series is partially an exploration of depictions of witchcraft and referential to horror in pop culture (the Witched Witch and Glinda from the Wizard of Oz).

Is Rio dead? How does she seem to emerge from the ground on the side of the witches road? Did she and Agatha try to walk it long ago, and Rio perished, thus she is now trapped there forever?

At some point, Agatha will end up alone. She will be walking alone because either everyone has died, or those remaining leave. This however will not be indefinite.

Conversely, it could also recall the beginning when it was just her and the teen, but just the two of them make it out.

I keep thinking of that scene with her and the teen in the metal room, where they both appear to be in patient gowns. Are they in facilities at S.W.O.R.D.? Is the teen crying because Agatha is making him walk through memories and realize his identity?

Agatha's knowledge of the road is either from the Darkhold or what Evanora taught (or rather tried to keep from her daughter).

As a green witch, Rio is connected to plants. Her costume quite literally looks like vines and roots growing are forming the bodice. Are plants relevant in the sense of bloom and regeneration? Or rather decay and withering?

Using, dismantling, subverting, or cannonizing of symbols or tools of witchcraft. From kitschy to terrifying.

The hooded figures who appear in front of the teen, is there one for each member of the coven? Is it a haunted form of themselves, or a twisted appartion assigned to capture each?

Part of this story is found family, and Agatha's fear of comraderie. Built off a lifetime of distrust, backstabbing, and taking, Agatha has to learn to trust. In a similar vein, Agatha has no sense of comfort or home.

The scene where Agatha's face is covered in small cuts or splatters of blood. Either that is the cataylst to a glorifying rise near the end of the show, or a horrifying turn of seemingly irredemtion.

Rio was once Agatha's companion, her only companion. A betrayal between the two sent Agatha into permanent solitude.

I sincerely hope this show explores horror and gives into the darkness that Multiverse of Madness teased. Comic relief is a needed presence, but the tone is overall geared towards darker themes and storylines

Speaking of darkness - night! The majority of this series will take place at night! At least the juicy and important scenes.

DOES AGATHA POSSESS THE DARKHOLD AGAIN OR WAS ITS APPEARANCE IN A FLASHBACK

When Agatha was young and on the run, she was targeted for possessing the Darkhold.

Rio and Agatha...history may call them the best of friends.

The Ballad of the Witche's Road might be sung in several versions/genre's (we've already heard two)

More lyrics of the ballad will be revealed and sung as the story progresses.

The Witches Road may be terrible, but it is a unifying force as it welcomes everyone. Remember the lyrics: "Seekest thou the road, all that's foul and fair," the road is a living thing, inviting everyone but casting judgement on those who can achieve

I will cry at some point. I am certain this will break me just as Wandavision broke me.

The glowing tree in the middle of the Witch's Road has something hidden beneath and growing within the roots. (Is it the heart of the Road, because it is a living legend?)

Each of the witches will have to confront their greatest fears manifested as scenes, memories, or landscapes of their personal hells. Only when they begin to trust each other or confront/admit their weakness can their proceed. Agatha would obviously have the final and hardest challenge.

Without her magic, such a core tenant of her identity and confidence, Agatha will be even more combatative and threatening (borne entirely out of insecurity).

Agatha's cameo, and the lock of hair in it, is a reminder of her humanity and connection.

At some point, Agatha will break, spilling out centuries worth of every held back, messy emotion (and Kathryn Hahn will SERVE).

Perhaps it is based on the obvious Eve allegory, but there will be more biblical allegories or subversions. Is Agatha being born anew?

Teen and Señor Scratchy bond. It is likely a trauma bond. (The rabbit may also gain a more horrifying form or eat an entire monster/adversary)

Elaborate outfit reveal. ELABORATE FINALE COSTUME OUTFIT REVEAL! AGATHA ACHIEVES ENLIGHTMENT AND HER MOST POWERFUL FORM WHEN SHE FINALLY RECLAIMS HER MAGIC...possibly foiling Wanda when she became the Scarlet Witch.

This is not an exhaustive list, but it will be interesting to compare these ideas to how the show actually plays out. In all of this excitement, there is still a touch of trepidation. After pouring so much love into counting down the days to release and yielding art, writing, research, and costumes for this character, Agatha has remained a fun force of exploration and expression for me. However, the excitement over seeing where Kathryn Hahn takes the character next assuages any and all fears, as we finally will confront who exactly Agatha was all along.

Get ready witches, it's time to walk the road.

[songwolfwildblogs]

Sup I'm about to infodump for 1000+ words about my admin au. It might turn into fanfiction halfway through again

Part 1

So let's go over some fun stuff first then we go into the angst

So as mentioned at the end of the last infodump post, Error and Fresh are Killer’s sons. Error is adopted and Fresh is somehow biological.

Lemme explain.

Fresh was created via killer (who was still just admin at this point) finding a clutch of unhatched parasite eggs and using some of his magic to make them hatch being unaware that it would give Fresh his DNA via parasite magic-consuming bullshitery. Fresh was the only parasite in the clutch to hatch, the rest did not make it.

Fresh sort of imprinted on killer/admin when he hatched. Killer/admin was the first thing Fresh saw so in his baby parasite brain that meant parent.

Killer/admin had to deal with fresh constantly on his shoulder and having to hide him since at this point the council had formed and he didn't exactly trust the council fully.

Fresh grew up in an au specifically designed to cater to Fresh’s needs made by admin/killer, Fresh before he got his first body was already a bit spoiled but now that he had a body? All bets were off Killer/admin was spoiling this parasite rotten.

As for the whole error being adopted by admin/killer, I have no idea how that happened but Error is killer's son now (If you have any ideas lemme know)

The au fresh grew up in was unpopulated For the most part unless fresh needed a new host which was when admin/killer would make a new monster for fresh to take over indirectly teaching that anyone other than family are just potential hosts.

Fresh grew up watching mostly kids vhs tapes getting admin/killer to fix them with God powers when They broke. Fresh was also taught to sword fight by admin/killer but he gravitated towards a wiffle bat he found on the ground (error also taught him how to use explosives)

Fresh is kept a secret for a bit until Ink and Life (reapertale toriel) noticed that a few things were off. 1 there was an au that not even ink couldn't access, and 2 life sensed that a new life was created that felt similar to admin/killer, meaning that he had a biological kid somehow

So

During a meeting life asks about it and everyone just kinda slow turns while Killer/admin tries denying it before after being pressured admitted that he had kids and when someone asked what he meant by kids since life only asked about one, he refused to elaborate causing an argument to break out since the council don't know what to do with this information.

Meanwhile, error and admin/killer just kinda sit there awkwardly. Eventually, the argument dies down because the council has other problems. Eventually, fresh is old enough to leave the au he grew up in, and he begins to do fresh things. The council quickly learns (minus error since he already knew since fresh is his brother) that fresh is the son, life sensed which uh ya was kinda confusing.

Fresh has been offered a spot on the council since he is powerful due to his heritage. But he always refused because “that ain't my style”

Speaking of the council, (we’ll get back to the family dynamic don't you worry) why don't we talk about them?

The council members include:

The reapertale cast

Error

Ink

Dream

Nightmare

Core frisk

And Admin

The reapertale cast is mostly the same minus reaper getting his skull broken open but life tried her best to repair it (didn't really work but she tried)

Error is extremely loyal to his father being the only council to be flat out against the revolt other than Admin/killer himself. Error has a big sense of pride about his family (well mainly about admin/killer not much about fresh) and when his dad is overthrown he convinces himself that admin/killer has been wrongly overthrown and continues to stand by him. When killer faces trial and shows guilt he convinces himself that killer has been pressured and manipulated into seeing his past actions as wrong.

Dream in this au is a punk rocker who just wants to make music and shit but he was forced to joined the council since you can't exactly fight against the admin’s call. Dream is extremely critical towards the current state of the multiversal government and is constantly trying to propose solutions that would actually help people only for it to be rejected. When the revolt starts dream is the one leading the charge since he believes it will be the best thing for the multiverse

Ink is uh interesting. When the revolt started he didn't pick a side since he didn't exactly know what to do so why not just let the multiverse do its thing. Ink also has a weird relationship with Admin. Like admin will pick him up by the scarf when ink is getting rowdy and ink it's just a friend thing. Like admin finds ink annoying but ink thinks their friends level of weird.

Nightmare was also forced to join the council, he was doing his spreading negativity thing for a bit but then when he had to join the council he had to follow multiversal law meaning he had to get government approval beforehand if they wanted continue going on missions which everyone in the gang (including nightmare) hated and they tried to object to it but it didn't go down well

Core frisk is mostly the same but is probably the most qualified member of the council

The council after the revolt are still in place but begin opening seats to allow new members to be elected (error is currently on trial for his role in being against the revolt but I'd postponed for now and he's on probation, Fresh is being Monitored)

The elections are still underway by the time Killer is caught.

let's get into an ending I mentioned previously but didn't go into full detail about

The ending where killer takes back his place as admin

I call this ending “It runs in the family” (warning this a bit edgy)

This ending Happens when Killer does not improve and remains the same. He sneaks out of the castle, finds his sons, and after some fuckery he proves he's the admin… and the group decides To take back the throne. there are two ways this could go, probable version where they lose and get killed. The other version is where they win and take back the throne after a lot of bloodshed, nightmare and ink are spared due to nightmare taking in killer and ink because he didn't participate in the revolt and core frisk saw this coming and closed off the omega timeline

when killer takes back the place of admin he decides he was too nice last time and becomes even more of a tyrant and makes his sons the new council causing a Never Ending cycle of the 3 of them agreeing and not changing anything ruining the lives of those under them. Fresh and Error get some aus to rule over which you can guess how that goes (badly, the answer is badly)

But yeah the runs in the family ending is uh… ya

If you have any ideas for this au lemme know, also thank you to the neverniko discord for helping me with ideas aswell as my irl bestie!

Also if you have any ideas let know!

[rexscanonwife]

And by the way just to add some like...angst to my sea beast s/i I guess 😂 I was thinking about the research I did into old selkie folk tales and how they typically tend to go and how it applies to my s/i with Batterbie stealing her coat.

1. She did it when she was still just a child and had lost her whole family, so she probably holds that over her head by saying she's lucky to have had a place to stay and food to eat at ALL and 2. That she could have it...a LOT worse 😬

[kaidatheghostdragon]

Found this while going through my fanfic files, and i absolutely had to share.

Danny: i want in

Red robin: …what?

Danny: your bat family. I want in.

Red robin, blinking in surprise: i dont know what you think you know about my associates, but we're not-

Danny: dont be obtuse. I know youre the smart one. And i also know that your all one big relatively happy family. I want in.

Red robin: …why?

Danny: because you guys are the first people ive found that are wealthy, intelligent and powerful enough to take on my fruitloop godfather and win AND are decent enough human beings that i can be assured that when all is said and done, my well-being will remain a top priority.

Orphan, appearing out of nowhere: new brother!

Danny: *stares in shock*

Danny: *sudden uncanny grin* well that's one convinced. How do i win over the rest?

Orphan: no need. New brother!

Red robin: *pointed glance of betrayal* fine. Who is your godfather?

Danny: vlad masters. He's a fruitloop.

Red robin: for real? B's been investigating him for years! Tell me everything! *genuinely excited for a new lead*

Danny: well, he's tried to murder my dad and marry my mom, gained his wealth illegally, committed voting fraud to become the mayor of my hometown, has a secret underground lab where he does unethical experiments, and he's abducted me more than a dozen times even before my parents disowned me to make me his evil apprentice or whatever. Now that im homeless, he's literally out to get me. Oh! And he's cloned me too! She's cool though, we're buddies now.

Batman, who just arrived but heard everything over comms: hn. (Translation: who are you?)

Danny: my name is Danny. No last name anymore, but im hoping itll soon be Wayne! *winking suggestively*

Batman: hn? (how much do you know?)

Danny: enough to know that youre a much better alternative to vlad.

Batman: …hn (i dont know anything about you. What if youre a spy for vlad?)

Danny, giving his salesman pitch: i was a teen vigilante in amity park before i had to run away from home for my own safety. Vlad is one of my rogues. I know how to fight and defend myself, how to minimize collateral damage in a fight, and ive gotten really good and escaping kidnapping attempts. Ive also managed to reform and/or make allies out of approximately half of my rogues and can talk down about 30% of all rogue confrontations before they turn into a messy fight. The other things i can bring to the table are: one, i can teach all of you guys proper liminality self care; two, i can probably minimize and possibly cure red hood's anger issues; three, i can get along with stabby robin because i consider fighting a friendly social interaction - he can even stab me and i wont be injured by it; four, i can be your go-to guy for supernatural cases so you no longer have to deal with that sad trenchcoat man; five-

Red robin: *blurting* youre hired.

Batman: hn (i am deeply concerned)

Danny: if youre concerned now, wait until i tell you about the anti ecto control act

Nightwing, who showed up in the middle of the sales pitch: ive never seen anyone crack B's grunt language so quickly

Danny: grunt language? He's just using ghost speak - which will be covered by the liminality self care lessons

Robin, who arrived with batman: what is a liminal?

Danny: all of you, of course! Otherwise you wouldnt need to learn about it, obviously

Robin: and why would we trust you?

Danny: did i mention i have a pet ghost dog?

Robin: …you drive a hard bargain

Danny, fist pumping: yes! That's three!

Nightwing: four, you got me when you could understand B's grunting

Red Hood, arrived with nightwing: five, assuming you arent lying about the pit rage

Danny, hand to his chest: i would never!

Orphan: honesty. Earnest. New brother.

Oracle, over comms: six. The anti ecto acts are legit and im terrified for his safety, assuming he's phantom, who is the vigilante of amity park

Spoiler, arrived with orphan: seven, as long as youre down for a few pranks

Batman: hn (ive been outvoted)

Batman: hnn (i dont wanna hear any jokes about adoption habits when you all forced my hand)

Batman: hn (that said)

Batman: welcome to the family

Duke, the next day: man, i miss out on everything exciting.

Duke, blinded by danny: and who the fuck told bruce he could adopt the fucking sun?!

[criminalamnesia]

that 141 x reader you just did was so good! i need to know what happens next. like after reader is better, do they stay in the military? stay in 141? or do they take a discharge? I’m not the original ask but it was just so good.

love your writing btw!

thank you! here’s part two :)

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

you were beginning to hate the infirmary.

the white walls. the moans of pain. the smell of bleach and blood.

the reminder of why you were here. of who put you here.

your friends. your family. your team. john. johnny. kyle. simon.

you’d told the doctor to not let your teammates in, and she had tried, but there was only so much she could do. she couldn’t monitor the door all the time, and so a week after waking up from your coma, john price is sitting at your beside once again.

his hands are clasped together, knuckles white with the intensity of his grip. he’s leaning forward, elbows resting on the bed, hands under his chin. his position conveys his regret and worry. he looks like he should be in church, knelt between the pews and spewing silent prayers to a god that isn’t listening.

you haven’t spoken to him since he sat down ten minutes ago. the second you saw him step inside the infirmary, you knew he was there for you. there to try and speak to you, to apologize.

fuck him and his apologies.

you turned your head to the side, eyes staring at the white curtain separating your bed from the next. you studied the stitching while you listened to him breathe next to you. he hadn’t spoken either— just sat down and watched you.

it made your skin crawl, how he thought this was okay. how he thought this would be the way to get back into your good graces.

he clears his throat then, a sound you’ve heard a million times before. it makes you want to gag now.

“love,” his voice is soft, caring. you want to hit him in the jaw.

“can we talk? please?”

you don’t turn over, don’t even spare him a glance. you keep your gaze trained on the curtain. the only giveaway that he has your attention is the fists you clench at your sides.

he takes the silence as an invitation, that bastard.

“what happened—” he begins, then grunts. stops. takes a second, then begins again.

“what we did,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “it wasn’t right. the intel was from a trusted source. we—” he sighs then, and you can tell he’s rubbing his temple. he did that when he was stressed. when he was anxious.

“we were wrong to believe them over you, love. and im— im sorry.”

silence ensues. you don’t give him any indication that you’ve heard what he said. he sighs again, inhaling deeply.

“you’re still part of this team. johnny and gaz, they’ve been sitting outside this damn room like sentries. can barely pry ‘em away for drills.” he chuckles then, but it’s sad. pitiful. mournful.

“there’s nothing we can do to make this right,” he tells you. you’re still mulling over what he said about johnny and gaz. still hung up on the fact that he didn’t mention simon at all.

simon, who did the most damage to you, both psychologically and physically. simon, who shared your bed. simon.

simon, who is too much of a coward to face you for his crimes.

“but we want to try,” price is speaking again. “if you’ll let us.”

he stops talking. waits a beat, then two. then, you hear his chair scrape. he’s getting up, and that’s when you turn your head to face him.

he looks bad. bags under the eyes, skin pale, beard overgrown. you think he deserves this. deserves worse than this. his eyes meet yours, and they widen the tiniest bit at the attention you’re showing him.

your voice is full of venom as you speak.

“nothing,” you seethe, angry tears blurring your vision. “will ever undo what you did to me. what he did to me.”

price knows you’re talking about simon. the whole team knew you were a thing. hell, when they’d strapped you to that chair and debated who would ‘interrogate’ you, they hadn’t even thought to include simon. why would he want to torture the person he loved?

to their surprise, he had volunteered to take point.

“when i get out of this bed,” you continue. “im gone. and i never, never, want to see any of you again, or else im putting a fucking bullet between your eyes.”

the captain doesn’t speak. you can see the remorse on his face. you couldn’t care less about his feelings.

he gives a short nod, and without another word, he turns and leaves the room.

after john’s visit, no one else tries to visit you. you no longer catch glimpses of kyle or johnny outside the infirmary door. you’re glad they’re starting to get the hint.

but you’re still getting flowers. you don’t know where they’re coming from. sometimes they’re dropped off by a nurse, other times they appear in the morning after a restless sleep. there’s never a note. never anything to suggest who would be leaving them.

you know it’s one of the 141, but you don’t know exactly who. you feel certain it’s not simon.

but, unbeknownst to you, it is him. he knows you don’t want to see him— to see any of them. price had told them all about what you’d said to him during your talk.

price had also told them that he’d already started preparing your transfer papers. that had caused an uproar from soap, who’d quickly been quieted by a saddened price.

simon had expected it. expected worse, actually. he knew that if the roles had been reversed, he wouldn’t have been as merciful as you. it made him hate what they’d done to you so much more.

there had been the tiniest doubt in his mind when all the evidence pointed to you. he hadn’t believed it at first— and then things became damning. everything pointed to you. trusted sources were pointing their fingers at you, and everyone listened. he had listened.

he had volunteered to torture you because he’d been angry. rage he hadn’t felt in years bubbled to the surface of his skin, and he wanted to tear you limb from limb. how dare you come into their lives— his life— and betray them so substantially?

simon didn’t trust easily. he was battered and broken and scarred. shattered and malformed pieces hastily glued back together. he let the team in. let you in. let you see his face. let you into his bed. let you into his fucking heart.

and you turned around and drove a dagger into him. or so he thought.

he thought his anger and actions had been justified. thought he was doing the world a favor by butchering you. but he was wrong. the team was wrong.

he finds himself regretting how he hadn’t listened to your pleas, but there’s nothing he can do about it now.

he knows the chances of you forgiving him, of letting him back into your life, are slim to none. but how could he not at least try?

you’d know each other for years. been together for years. all of it thrown away because he still knew the hurt of betrayal all too well. because it was too easy to fall back into the mindset that it was him against everyone. that the only person he knew, the only one he could rely on, was himself.

so he left flowers. your favorite ones. and he did so without making you face him, without apologizing or groveling. it was the least he owed you.

a month after your coma, you were finally allowed out of the infirmary. you were still healing, skin still tender and bruised. pink, jagged scars lining your skin; eternal reminders of the pain you’d been subjected to.

you’d been given a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, which you’d pulled on with much fuss. every time you struggled or stumbled, you found yourself getting angry. angry at the men who did this to you.

the anger was going to eat you alive, at least that’s what the psychologist that had been dropping by to see you had said. she’d told you you need to let it go, and you’d laughed in her face.

how do you let something like this go?

you didn’t know. you didn’t think you were strong enough to do that. not a good enough person to forgive the men that had carved into you.

once you had dressed, you shuffled out into the hallway. you’d profusely denied an escort, and the doctor had reluctantly acquiesced. she’d let you go, with just the promise that you’d keep your iv hooked in.

so here you were, trudging down the halls of the base, iv pole rattling along behind you.

you could feel eyes on you, but no one dared to get too close. you were glad. you didn’t want more empty apologies and sympathetic words.

you still remembered the way to price’s office like the back of your hand. you doubted you’d ever forget it.

time and time again you’d found yourself here. sometimes, getting reprimanded. others, congratulated. a few times you’d shown up in tears, and price had let you in without a word.

now you were standing outside his door, trying to contain the rage in your veins.

you raised a hand. knocked once, firm and loud.

“come in!” price called from inside.

you were already twisting the door knob, pushing into the room.

your eyes found price first. he was leaning against his desk, arms crossed over his chest. his hat was absent from his head, instead resting beside him on the desk.

and then you noticed simon.

he was wearing all black. his hands were covered, bones decorating the black gloves. gloves you’d seen many times before. gloves that had been pressed to gunshots, trying to stop the bleeding.

the lower half of his face was covered, allowing you to see from his eyes up. his sandy blonde hair was ruffled.

you quickly turned your attention back to price.

“love, what are you doin’ here? you should be in bed—” he began, but you waved a hand as you stepped further into the room. you pulled your iv pole in behind you, then kicked the door shut.

“don’t talk, just listen. i still mean what i said when you came to visit. the only reason im here right now is because you haven’t put in for my fucking transfer.” you hissed.

the captain’s eyes widened, his face taking on a sheepish expression at the revelation that he’d been caught. simon stood quietly beside him, eyes trained on you. you ignored him.

“love, i didn’t want to do anything before you were ready—” he began. you cut him off.

“bullshit! you didn’t want to do anything because you don’t want me to leave. you want me to forgive you, right? hear you all out? come back and be a happy little family again?”

the room fell eerily silent as you stared at the captain. your heart was roaring in your ears.

“put in the fucking transfer, john.” you finished.

he reluctantly nodded. he inhaled, his eyes glancing at his lieutenant briefly, before he spoke again.

“of course, love. ‘m sorry.”

you didn’t say anything else. you turned to go, your back to the men, when simon’s voice cut through the air.

“you should be respectful to your captain, sergeant.”

you froze as you took in his words. was he fucking serious?

you didn’t turn around. you trained your eyes on the door as you spoke words through gritted teeth.

“you should watch your tongue, lieutenant, before I fucking cut it off.”

with that, you pulled open the door and stepped into the hallway, slamming it loudly behind you.

author’s note:

apologies for the wait! I hope everyone enjoyed! (this is being posted before proofreading, so I hope it’s okay— I’ll read through it later, it’s just late and im tired lol)

[princesssarisa]

In the past I've shared other people's musings about the different interpretations of the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice. Namely, why Orpheus looks back at Eurydice, even though he knows it means he'll lose her forever. So many people seem to think they've found the one true explanation of the myth. But to me, the beauty of myths is that they have many possible meanings.

So I thought I would share a list of every interpretation I know, from every serious adaptation of the story and every analysis I've ever heard or read, of why Orpheus looks back.

One interpretation – advocated by Monteverdi's opera, for example – is that the backward glance represents excessive passion and a fatal lack of self-control. Orpheus loves Eurydice to such excess that he tries to defy the laws of nature by bringing her back from the dead, yet that very same passion dooms his quest fo fail, because he can't resist the temptation to look back at her.

He can also be seen as succumbing to that classic "tragic flaw" of hubris, excessive pride. Because his music and his love conquer the Underworld, it might be that he makes the mistake of thinking he's entirely above divine law, and fatally allows himself to break the one rule that Hades and Persephone set for him.

Then there are the versions where his flaw is his lack of faith, because he looks back out of doubt that Eurydice is really there. I think there are three possible interpretations of this scenario, which can each work alone or else co-exist with each other. From what I've read about Hadestown, it sounds as if it combines all three.

In one interpretation, he doubts Hades and Persephone's promise. Will they really give Eurydice back to him, or is it all a cruel trick? In this case, the message seems to be a warning to trust in the gods; if you doubt their blessings, you might lose them.

Another perspective is that he doubts Eurydice. Does she love him enough to follow him? In this case, the warning is that romantic love can't survive unless the lovers trust each other. I'm thinking of Moulin Rouge!, which is ostensibly based on the Orpheus myth, and which uses Christian's jealousy as its equivalent of Orpheus's fatal doubt and explicitly states "Where there is no trust, there is no love."

The third variation is that he doubts himself. Could his music really have the power to sway the Underworld? The message in this version would be that self-doubt can sabotage all our best efforts.

But all of the above interpretations revolve around the concept that Orpheus looks back because of a tragic flaw, which wasn't necessarily the view of Virgil, the earliest known recorder of the myth. Virgil wrote that Orpheus's backward glance was "A pardonable offense, if the spirits knew how to pardon."

In some versions, when the upper world comes into Orpheus's view, he thinks his journey is over. In this moment, he's so ecstatic and so eager to finally see Eurydice that he unthinkingly turns around an instant too soon, either just before he reaches the threshold or when he's already crossed it but Eurydice is still a few steps behind him. In this scenario, it isn't a personal flaw that makes him look back, but just a moment of passion-fueled carelessness, and the fact that it costs him Eurydice shows the pitilessness of the Underworld.

In other versions, concern for Eurydice makes him look back. Sometimes he looks back because the upward path is steep and rocky, and Eurydice is still limping from her snakebite, so he knows she must be struggling, in some versions he even hears her stumble, and he finally can't resist turning around to help her. Or more cruelly, in other versions – for example, in Gluck's opera – Eurydice doesn't know that Orpheus is forbidden to look back at her, and Orpheus is also forbidden to tell her. So she's distraught that her husband seems to be coldly ignoring her and begs him to look at her until he can't bear her anguish anymore.

These versions highlight the harshness of the Underworld's law, and Orpheus's failure to comply with it seems natural and even inevitable. The message here seems to be that death is pitiless and irreversible: a demigod hero might come close to conquering it, but through little or no fault of his own, he's bound to fail in the end.

Another interpretation I've read is that Orpheus's backward glance represents the nature of grief. We can't help but look back on our memories of our dead loved ones, even though it means feeling the pain of loss all over again.

Then there's the interpretation that Orpheus chooses his memory of Eurydice, represented by the backward glance, rather than a future with a living Eurydice. "The poet's choice," as Portrait of a Lady on Fire puts it. In this reading, Orpheus looks back because he realizes he would rather preserve his memory of their youthful, blissful love, just as it was when she died, than face a future of growing older, the difficulties of married life, and the possibility that their love will fade. That's the slightly more sympathetic version. In the version that makes Orpheus more egotistical, he prefers the idealized memory to the real woman because the memory is entirely his possession, in a way that a living wife with her own will could never be, and will never distract him from his music, but can only inspire it.

Then there are the modern feminist interpretations, also alluded to in Portrait of a Lady on Fire but seen in several female-authored adaptations of the myth too, where Eurydice provokes Orpheus into looking back because she wants to stay in the Underworld. The viewpoint kinder to Orpheus is that Eurydice also wants to preserve their love just as it was, youthful, passionate, and blissful, rather than subject it to the ravages of time and the hardships of life. The variation less sympathetic to Orpheus is that Euyridice was at peace in death, in some versions she drank from the river Lethe and doesn't even remember Orpheus, his attempt to take her back is selfish, and she prefers to be her own free woman than be bound to him forever and literally only live for his sake.

With that interpretation in mind, I'm surprised I've never read yet another variation. I can imagine a version where, as Orpheus walks up the path toward the living world, he realizes he's being selfish: Eurydice was happy and at peace in the Elysian Fields, she doesn't even remember him because she drank from Lethe, and she's only following him now because Hades and Persephone have forced her to do so. So he finally looks back out of selfless love, to let her go. Maybe I should write this retelling myself.

Are any of these interpretations – or any others – the "true" or "definitive" reason why Orpheus looks back? I don't think so at all. The fact that they all exist and can all ring true says something valuable about the nature of mythology.

[nanamiscocksleeve]

Prescription For Pleasure

Warnings: MDNI, sex, masturbation, medical masturbation, use of vibrators, clit play, piv sex, use of latex gloves, oral (fem receiving), some praise, kinda slow burn A/n: I am not normal about this man in any way. Not really proofread. Please do not use my banners without permission.

You’re seated in Zayne’s office, trying not to squirm as he sets up your appointment. Although this was now the third time you were seeing him for this regular inspection, it didn’t alleviate your nerves the slightest. Each month, according to the Hunter’s Association regulations, every hunter needed to be seen by their primary care physician for 3 consecutive days for their health.

And although the association deemed it a necessity, it was an embarrassing requirement according to you. The Hunter’s Association had done a survey and discovered that many of their employees suffered from high levels of stress because they were isolated and lacked much-needed human contact. To combat this, they made it mandatory to get physical contact by a medical professional every month.

But when all the fancy jargon was pushed aside, all the hunters called it the same thing - medical masturbation. It had become wildly popular amongst both men and women hunters, eagerly marking the days on their calendar for when they could come in. When you heard about the rule, you wished the earth would open up and swallow you whole. You had tried talking to Jenna to insist that you were indeed taking care of yourself in that aspect, thanks to your trusted vibrator, but she had shaken her head no. 

“We need documentation. I’m subject to it, and so is everyone else in my order.”  Defeated, you’d walked out of Jenna’s office before remembering another mortifying fact with a jolt. Your primary care physician was Zayne. 

Your childhood friend, your trusted cardiologist, stoic and calm, who remained reserved during your general checkups, was going to be your medical masturbator. You had almost turned yourself into a ball on the floor, tweaked out at the insanity of it all. Although Zayne was your general physician, you had a separate gynecologist, and apart from asking if you’d had your annual PAP smear, Zayne had left that part of your anatomy unquestioned. It didn’t help that you were attracted to him, and sure, if he’d asked you out on a date, you would have been more than happy to let him inspect you all he wanted down there.

But this clinical setting, enforced by your organization was a little too much to bear. Wondering how to tackle this situation, you wander over to Tara who was humming as she made her medical bookings on her phone app. “Isn’t this exciting?” she squeals as she sees you. “God knows the dating pool is thin right now. This is just what I needed!”

Tara’s primary care physician was a woman, and you wondered if that was a pro or a con. On the one hand, dropping your panties for a woman doctor seemed less unnerving than for a man. But if you had a preference for men, would it work against your arousal? You shook your head at your ridiculous musings and focused on talking to Tara. “Are you really that excited about this?”

“You have no idea!” Tara taps her feet as she talks to you. 

“And you’re ok about having a woman stimulate you?” You probe, trying to gauge Tara’s reaction. Tara giggles and lightly pats your shoulder. 

“I don’t know but the idea is kind of hot. I mean, getting it on in a doctor’s office? Besides if I don’t like it, I can change the doctor the next time.”

Her words hit you like a ton of bricks. “You can change your doctor?”

“For this yes, the app gives you an option since it involves showing off a lot of intimate areas. You have to be able to trust your doctor right?”

You logged into the app, finding the little button to request a change in doctors, but for some reason, the page kept refreshing and crashing. With a sigh, you decide to get the worst of it over with and call Zayne, hoping he can make the change for you on his end. His voice is cool and professional when he answers your call.

“Yes?”

“So, you must have heard about…the new regulation?” you had put forth nervously.

“I am aware of it, yes.” 

“Well, for obvious reasons, I would like a different doctor.” 

Zayne smoothly says, “Of course. Patient comfort is always first. Do you have a doctor in mind?”

“Maybe my gynecologist? I tried doing it in the app but it keeps crashing.” There’s a moment of silence and you can hear Zayne’s fingers tapping away at his keyboard before a low hum leaves his end of the line.

“There appears to be a problem.”

“Problem?” you’d parrotted back.

“Yes. Because so many people are booking appointments at the same time, most of the available doctors are already taken. Including your gynecologist.” 

It felt like watching a bird crashing into a window in slow motion, that brief moment of hope that it wouldn’t hit the glass shattering in an instant. “Oh.”

There’s a pause before Zayne delicately says, “I’m sorry but it looks like you will have to make those appointments with me for this month. 3 of them according to the regulation. Hopefully, you can make the change for next month.” His voice sounded slightly apologetic.

“Won’t it be weird given that we know each other personally?” The question had fallen from your lips before you could stop yourself. 

“I promise not to treat you any differently than any of my other patients who are coming in for this inspection. I understand this may be a little unexpected, but I assure you I did a term of gynecology during my internship.”

A tinge of mirth carried over in his voice and you can’t help but make a noise of embarrassment. “Zayne, please!” His laugh was dry but not unkind, and you can’t help but want to hide your face even though he couldn’t see you. 

“Don’t worry too much. But I do advise you to make the appointments soon. My schedule is filling up rapidly.”

With those words, he’d disconnected the call and you were left wondering if an unknown god from another planet had cursed your existence. 

And changing doctors had proven to be more difficult than you’d thought. The entire organization seemed to be having a single thought. They had made appointments in the app almost halfway into the year, essentially blocking you from being able to do anything about your situation. Now on your third month with Zayne, you watch as he checks his notes from your last session, feeling like you want to scamper from the room.

The last two sessions had been incredibly stimulating, your arousal heightened by the fact you were attracted to Zayne. You’d never considered having someone watch as you touched yourself but found that you’d enjoyed it, at least, when it was him. He had remained professional, but you’d avoided him these last two months, save for when you had to get your monthly cardiac profile. He reads his notes from his computer as he prepares for your session. 

“Preferred device for stimulation still a vibrator, with a large, rounded, flexible head?” His eyes remain on his screen and you’re grateful for him giving you this smidgen of privacy. 

“Yes.”

“Preference for the doggystyle position still?” 

Your face burns. “Yes.”

“Still consenting for verbal stimulation?”

You nod your head.

“And still consenting for internal vaginal stimulation?” You make a noise of consent, squeezing your thighs together, your panties uncomfortably chafing against your already swollen pussy. 

“All right, I have everything I need.” He logs off and removes his lab coat, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, revealing his well-corded arms, and your mouth almost waters at the sight of them. Clearing your throat, you shyly reach into your bag and pull out the vibrator in question, which he takes from you and clamps into a stand, adjusting it over the examination table you’d be on. A bottle of lube awaits on the tray next to the table and you swallow as he finishes the setup. 

“Whenever you’re ready,” he says in that deep voice, and feeling like your fingers are wrapped in thick woolen mittens, you reach behind you to untie the hospital gown you’re wearing, and it falls to the floor with a swoosh, your nipples pebbling under the sudden chill. A small set of sensors were taped to your chest and on the sides of your forehead, essential medical devices to ensure your orgasm was satisfactory. Unperturbed, Zayne gestures to the table and you make your way onto it, letting your feet settle in the stirrups as he settles on a stool between your legs, pulling on latex gloves before gently spreading your folds apart. You stare up at the ceiling as he does his initial checkup.

“Labia look healthy, no signs of trauma or abnormal discharge,” he murmurs, then runs a finger down the edge of the fold that separates your inner and outer lips, causing your core to clench involuntarily. You hold still, knowing very well he saw the action, holding your breath, letting out a little sigh as he lets go. 

“Normal reaction to stimuli, already semi-aroused,” he says, trashing the gloves and making another note on his computer. He glances over at you, leaning back uncertainly on the table. “You may begin.”

You swallow, then carefully turn onto your hands and knees, crawling towards the head of the table, grabbing the bottle of lube and squeezing the viscous liquid onto the head of the vibrator, avoiding eye contact as your breasts sway under the motion, nipples painfully hard from anticipation. You could feel Zayne’s gaze but can’t bring yourself to look up. Even though this was the third time, it hadn’t gotten easier, stripping naked and pleasuring yourself in his office. 

Once the rounded head of the vibrator is slick, you turn, the chill of the lube against your heated membranes causing more blood to flow into your already engorged nub, and run your moist slit across the surface to spread the liquid onto your slickened folds. Your hand fumbles for the little remote control and with a buzz, the vibrator turns on at the lowest setting. You click the button a few more times until it gets to the speed you liked, then fail to hold back a moan as the sensations pleasurably begin to take hold in your clit. 

The first time you had done this, nervousness had made you set the vibrator on the highest possible setting hoping to get a quick orgasm and sprint out of the office. Unfortunately, the sensors relayed this information into Zayne’s medical record that your climax had been unsatisfactory, and you had endured being lectured by him with the medical gown loosely draped on your body, your rear open to the cold office air. 

His tone wasn’t unkind but it hadn’t helped you feel better either. “It helps neither of us if you rush this. The whole purpose of this examination is to ensure you’re relaxing. I know it’s embarrassing but if you fail to have a proper orgasm, I’ll have to make you repeat the process until I get data that says otherwise.”

“The sensors are-”

“The only way to measure anything. Without involving another person anyway.”

His words had left you gobsmacked and your retort had died in your mouth. After that incident, you had learned. Even with the chagrin of having him watch you, you had learned to take your time and let the feelings build, leading to incredibly savory climaxes that made your body squirm from the aftershocks. 

Your hips sway, setting up a rhythm to brush your sensitive slit onto the head, letting it vibrate from cunt to clit, the lube aiding the frictionless sliding and making your core drip. Quiet noises of pleasure leave your throat as help yourself, arching your back and changing the curvature of your ass to maximize the sensations, then when the perfect pattern emerges, you let out a keening sigh, and try to remain still, letting the vibrator work its magic. 

Zayne, who has been quietly observing the computer this entire time, observing the spikes relayed from the sensors, asks, “Have you found your optimal pleasure form?”

“Yes,” you gasp, the timbre of his voice sending an arrow of lust into the deepest parts of your clenching core. You knew what was about to come next. The sound of Zayne’s desk chair moving, followed by the snap of latex gloves as he pulled a fresh pair onto those beautiful hands. He approaches the examination table and takes the bottle of lube you had set aside earlier, a wet squelching noise issuing from it as he squeezes it over his gloved hand, gathering the fluid on his index and middle fingers. He leans over to whisper in your ears; the verbal stimulation has begun.

The humiliating reveal that you had a heavy praise kink had come up during your initial session and despite your insistence that it wasn’t necessary, Zayne, the ever-diligent worker, had made a note in your profile, and he’d been fulfilling it each time. A tickle of hot breath near your ear, before he murmurs, “Are you enjoying yourself?”

The hum of the vibrator in the background coupled with his voice makes your breath catch in your throat. You nod, knowing you didn’t have it in you to form coherent words. 

“That’s a good patient. Good patients listen to their doctors you know. And you’re doing a wonderful job.”

Your hips snap back to push your clit against the rubber pad, letting out a whimper of pleasure, the action pushing your ass up higher, revealing your pathetically drooling cunt, fluttering with the dissatisfaction of being unfilled. 

“Are you ready?” He waits for your consent and you manage a husky, ‘mm hm’.

“Good girl. Take a breath.”

You inhale, trying to relax, then let out an uninhibited moan as Dr. Zayne inserts his middle finger into your needy cunt, the ring of muscles offering no resistance to the probing digit. He gently thrusts a few times, before curling the tip of his finger up into the delicate patch of nerves on your upper wall, the smooth come hither motion awakening a new level of pleasure in your body. Your fingers tighten on the edges of the table, sobbing, trying not to scream at the feelings that threatened to explode from you. He keeps up the gentle assault before asking, “Are you ready for another one?”

“Yes…” your voice comes out shakily, knowing you desired more than just his fingers, but that you would never get to experience it. 

“Perfect. So well behaved, taking exactly what I give you.” Zayne’s sensual voice floods your ear before his index pushes into you, the thickness of both his fingers sending you into overdrive. Your walls clench welcomingly around him, inciting an exciting pull of liquid heat in your abdomen, the muscles tensing in anticipation for the exquisite release you knew was about to occur. 

Feeling your inhibitions abandon you as you are stroked closer to orgasm your self-control slips and his name falls from your lips as he pushes over the edge.

“Zayne…” some partially functioning confine in the back of your brain registers what you had just involuntarily purred, but the spasms rocking your core, those gratifying waves of delight flooding your body made it easier to ignore it as your being is reduced to a pliant mess of pleasure. His fingers ease up as the fluttering in your pussy calms down, your clit pulsating weakly as the final vestiges of pleasure are wrung from your body. 

With a wet noise, his fingers leave your moist hole, the glove coated with your juices and the lubricant. Awareness finally comes crashing around you as you realize what you had uttered in the throes of passion. 

“I…I didn’t…I wasn’t in control…” You try to find a way to explain, to let him know you had very little choice in the matter of sobbing his name as you orgasmed, but everything feels flat, almost on the fine line between explaining and insulting. 

“There’s no need.” Almost as if he’s read your mind, Zayne matter-of-factly redirects the conversation. “It’s not uncommon to blurt out things during climax. Some people swear, and others call out names. It was a very normal reaction considering I was the one in the room with you.”

He throws the gloves in the trash and goes to check the computer, to ensure the sensors had given him the information he needed before starting the second round of the appointment.

“Oh.” You say quietly as he sits at his desk, feeling dejected. Although relieved he wasn’t making a big deal out of it, you can’t help but feel disappointed with his reaction. Shouldn’t a man be flattered when a woman cried out his name when she came? Maybe he really was treating you strictly as a patient. And here you were, pussy exposed and spread after being probed by his dextrous fingers, mooning over him like a high school girl. Perhaps the limit of your relationship with him was in fact, doctor and patient, the childhood friends aspect fading. 

So there was no romance here at all. You had a crush on him, and he was doing his job. Reality sucks. You sniff and suddenly feel cheap, and get out of the doggystyle position and try to find the hospital gown to preserve some of your modesty. Zayne glances over at your sudden movements.

“Are you cold? I can get you a blanket.”

“I’m fine.” You try to sound normal. 

“Your records show that you usually rest about 10 minutes before you are ready for the next round. Do you feel like that will be the case this time too?”

You find the gown and drag it up to your chin, covering your body as you lay back on the table. “Yeah. Actually a little sooner today maybe. I have somewhere to be.”

“You can’t rush these things. Your body will cum when it wants to. A forced orgasm doesn’t promote anything beneficial.”

“Well can we find a way for this to happen quickly and in compliance with the sensors?” You’re trying not to let your frustration show, the pleasantness of your orgasm fading. “I don’t think I have the patience to do two more rounds.”

Zayne listens to you impassively, but those amber eyes flecked with green had an underlying intensity you couldn’t place. “You don’t have the patience to do two more rounds?” He gets up and comes over to you. “You want to just leave then?” He approaches the edge of the table and there’s tension in his jaw. Perplexed, you look at him, his reaction unexpected. 

“No, I’m sorry, I know I can’t leave because of compliance and all that.”

“Compliance,” Zayne mutters under his breath before grasping your chin and forcing you to look at him, a gasp leaving your throat. 

“You’re getting frustrated because you have to do this a few times every month while being supervised? Do you have any idea what I have to do before you come in for these sessions?” His voice is a growl and you clam up, shocked by this aggressive display of expression from him.

“Every month I have to remain professional as you come in, pleasure yourself, and then leave. I have to endure seeing your beautiful body bare in front of me and control all my impulses to touch you, to not overstep my limitations as your doctor. I pleasure myself remembering the noises you make and ensure I’m well spent before coming in to do your appointments. You sit there, acting like it’s hard for you, but do you have any idea what you do to me?”

One of his knees is on the table, and he’s looming over you making you feel like a tiny animal caught in his fury. “It’s torture, to watch you. You’re not like the other patients I see. You never have been. Because with you, I always feel like I’m on the verge of losing control. Do you know how difficult it is to not do things to you that aren’t specified on your medical record? To have my fingers so intimately inside you, feel every little drop of pleasure clenching around my fingers, knowing at the end I can’t have you to myself? To hear you call my name and know that you only see me as your doctor?” 

Your face is a bright shade of red but you can’t look away from his face. His teeth are gritted, and when you dare to glance down, you see the noticeable bulge that has formed between his legs. He follows your glance and clicks his tongue, letting go of your chin. 

“I know I crossed a boundary today. It’s all right. You can go. I’ll reschedule you with another doctor. I know you didn’t want me in the first place.”

Your mind is a blur as you quickly reach out to grab his hand, your heart hammering wildly in your chest. His admission was like a prayer answered, and you weren’t going to meek about this. His breath hitches as he feels you pulling at his hand and gives you a look of uncertainty. Your lips part but the words you want to say refuse to come out. 

“Damn it,” he whispers ferally before his mouth captures yours in a rough kiss. It was wild and demanding, a contrast to the reserved, patient man he usually was. You’re swept up in the feeling of his mouth on yours, the taste of his tongue, and the softness of his lips. When you break apart, his hand cups your cheek, his eyes searching your face.

“This isn’t just because of the session right?” He asks keenly and you realize what he’s asking you. He’d been aching for you before this whole stupid policy came into place. The same way you’d been longing for him. 

“No, it’s not. I had a crush on you back when you became my doctor to check on my heart condition.” A sigh of relief leaves him before he tenderly presses his forehead to yours, and you’re caught up in the sweetness of the moment. 

“I just had to be sure.”

Boldly, you raise your head, delighted when he meets you, pulled back into his kiss, your tongues sliding over each other, your fingers tangling into his hair, scratching the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to you. 

You gasp as he breaks the kiss to drag his tongue down the column of your throat, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses to the heated flesh, your blood humming in your veins as your eyes flutter closed. He pulls away the gown and pulls your perked nipple into his mouth, and you revel in the jolt of pleasure it brings you, each suckle felt in your clit which had already swollen up again in need. His fingers capture your other nipple, softly tweaking and pulling it and drawing little whines of desire from your throat. 

Your hand finds the junction between his legs and cups the heavy bulge, drawing a groan from him, palming him through his slacks, feeling it grow and tent the fabric under your ministrations. A low guttural sound leaves him and he gets off the table, and you almost protest until you see him dragging the small wheeled stool from earlier towards the table. He settles down on it, looping his arms around the tops of your thighs and pulling you closer to the table's edge until your feet find the stirrups again. 

“Stay open for me darling,” he instructs, his eyes glittering and you shiver as you feel his breath against your swollen folds. You squeak as he pushes your folds apart with his nose, inhaling your scent, his eyes growing dark with lust. “You smell delicious. I always wondered. Had to stop myself from sniffing my gloves after you climaxed. Not professional you know.” 

The musky tang of your pussy fills his senses, and his tongue darts out and dips into your slit, finding the swollen bud and licking it with just the right pressure that makes your toes curl and stars pop into your vision. 

Your hand rests on his head, tugging his beautiful dark locks, his name falling from your lips without barriers. Your hips rock against him, moaning, then let a sob as his lips suction around your clit. His fingers, free from the gloves at last, probe your entrance, scissoring inside to prepare you for what was to come before they curl up into that gummy patch that he knew too well. 

The sensations flood you, and the sheer knowledge of knowing you had Zayne touching you this way, unbound by the usual rules was sending you into a frenzy. Incoherent noises leave your mouth, crying out hotly as he teases the orgasm from you, your body shivering from the intensity. 

He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and takes in your appearance, so soft and satisfied on his table, a dreamy look in your eyes.

“Are you prepared for the after?” he asks, you nod, more than eager to experience him. A sly smile crosses his face before he reaches over into the little chest of drawers by the table and pulls out a condom. 

“Hospitals have free condoms. It would be impractical to not use one when it’s on hand.” He explains seeing your questioning look and stands to undo his pants. You watch curiously as his cock is finally freed, eyes widening as it faces you, so impressive and veiny, standing proudly with a slight curve in its length. His pubes were neatly trimmed at the base, ebony curls visible behind the shaft. As he starts to roll on the condom, you feel your whole body heating up in anticipation. 

He leans down to kiss you before taking your feet and resting them on his shoulders, his cock at the perfect angle to enter you. As he sinks into your welcoming heat, you let out a sigh of longing, feeling the delicious stretch of muscle as he pushes up inside you, gasping as you feel his full length sheathe itself. As he bottoms out, his eyes close in bliss, hardly daring to believe that after all this time, he is finally getting to fulfill this private dream. 

Each stroke has him brushing against your gspot and kissing your cervix as he paces himself, feeling the primal urge to take you roughly and selfishly calling at his self-control. A growl leaves his throat as you whimper, straining towards him as the both of you struggle to keep a grip on reality. He feels the seductive way your walls clench around him, hears the soft noises you make, sees your face contort in pleasure with every roll of his hips. 

“Oh you feel so good,” he pants hotly, glasses askew, almost at the tip of his nose as he thrusts. “Clenching me so needily. Gonna milk me dry.”

Your response is a shuddering whimper, your back arching greedily to feel all of him, creating the perfect curvature to brush your clit against the base of his erection with each push of his hips. He feels the little bud on his heated skin, your combined fluids dripping onto his shaft, slickening the bundle of nerves with each stroke. 

“Be a good girl and cum on my cock the way you do on my fingers.” Zayne’s voice is husky as he tries to hold on, damned if he came before you. “I know you want to. I can feel the way your walls are spasming. They always do this pattern before you orgasm.”

The fact that he had memorized this knowledge of you was too much and you let go, your voice filling the room as you climax. Zayne’s hips stutter as he feels you around his length, pussy fluttering so him. His pace quickens, the sound of slapping skin becoming more and more urgent, his balls hitting your ass each time as he chases his orgasm. 

A shiver passes through his body as it happens and he buries himself in your warmth. You hum in satisfaction as you feel his cock twitch and pulse inside you as he spills his load. He pants, sweat on his forehead as he bends down to kiss you again, carefully lowering your legs which burn from the stretch as they settle on the stirrups. 

Threading your fingers through his hair, you brush your noses together, smiling shyly at him as he smirks, his eyes closing as he catches his breath.

“Can I see you outside of my office sometime?” he asks and you laugh at the invitation. 

“Are you asking me out on a date after having sex just once?” you tease as he grips the base of the condom and slides out, your pussy feeling the loss keenly. 

“I have been wanting to for a while. I was just wondering if I was misreading the signals. But I think I have a solid answer now.” He helps you sit up and cradles your body against his, idly stroking your skin, before gently removing the sensors off your body. 

“Let’s get dressed,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead after a moment of cozy silence, and the both of you hunt down your clothes. As he fixes his tie, Zayne passes by his computer and lets out an amused huff. 

“Something funny?” you ask as you button your blouse.

“The sensors definitely gave enough information to make anyone’s head spin.” You walk over and snort as you see the window, full of sharp spikes. 

“Well, at least I am guaranteed you had a good time.” Zayne’s eyes sparkle mischievously as he pulls you in for another kiss. 

“I’m not changing my doctor,” you reassure him as you pull away. There’s amusement in his gaze when he replies. 

“Oh, definitely not. I think if the Hunter’s Association ever sees this record, they’ll heavily advise you to remain with the same healthcare professional.” 

support banner by @/ cafekitsune @theimmortalbuns @otomegamesforlife @sweets-kozume @actuallysaiyan

[pedrospatch]

flutter

Jackson! Joel Miller x Pregnant! Female Reader

snapshots masterlist

summary: When you finally start to show, Joel has a tough time with it as the reality sinks in—he’s going to be a father again.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. (TW) PREGNANCY. established relationship. no mention of reader’s age, however in other works for this universe, it is implied she is younger than Joel, her specific age will never be stated so do with that what you will. brief descriptions of a pregnant woman’s changing body, brief mention of morning sickness, mention of breastfeeding (it only comes up in a conversation very briefly) these subjects can possibly be triggering, especially mentions of a changing body, so while i try to handle everything with the utmost care, i still ask that you proceed with caution. domesticity, reader enjoys taking care of her family, ellie is a little shit, grumpy joel, he’s sort of a dick at first? but only because he’s working through some feelings so let’s forgive him, okay?

word count: 3.5k

a/n: this is part of the snapshots universe, but it could absolutely be read as a standalone too. minimal editing, this has been sitting in my drafts and i did a quick edit during my lunch hour, so please excuse any mistakes.

“Shit.”

You almost can’t believe your own two eyes. Staring at your reflection in the large, oval shaped mirror hanging over the porcelain bathroom sink, your gaze widens in complete surprise. “Jesus Christ,” you mutter, turning to the side. It takes your brain about a good minute or two to process, really process, the way that your belly strains against the thin, white cotton of your camisole. It had seemingly swollen overnight—because it hadn’t been this prominent the day before, had it?

Over the last few months, there’d been changes.

Some subtle and some not so subtle.

“Ellie! Stop fucking staring at them,” you’d scolded the teenager late one evening during yours and hers weekly game night. For as hard as you tried focusing on what move you should make next, it was hard to concentrate on the chessboard in front of you when you could feel the way her eyes were fixed on your breasts. “I mean it! Quit staring at my boobs, you little shit.”

She held up her hands, her mouth full of popcorn.

“Hey, in my defense, they’re just fucking there, man. If anything, they’re fucking staring at me, okay?”

During your chess rematch the following week, you had accidentally knocked one of your pawn pieces off of the table. When you’d stood up and bent over to pick it up, she had made the observation that your butt seemed to have gotten a little bigger too.

“Bet Joel’s liking these changes,” Ellie had smirked. “It sure as hell explains why the headboard’s been banging against the wall more than usual lately.”

You threw the pawn at her, smiling in satisfaction when it bounced off her forehead and landed into her glass of lemonade.

One part of your body, however, hadn’t changed.

Not until now.

“Hon, trust me, you have nothing to be worried about,” Maria had assured you with confidence when you had brought up your concerns about your stomach. “Every woman, and every pregnancy, is different. I didn’t start showing until I was around six months, remember?”

“I guess you’re right.” You’d been around four months, then. “Doesn’t help that I haven’t felt the baby move.”

“You will,” Maria had promised. “Just be patient”

Biting your lip, you place a hand on your belly.

It’s always been one of the softer parts of you, but now, it’s firmed into a perfect, round bump.

“Maybe soon I’ll feel you move,” you murmur, giving it a gentle pat. You tug the lace hem of your camisole down as far as it can go and then pull at the elastic waistband of your blue, terry cloth shorts.

Shutting off the lights in the bathroom, you slip out into the bedroom where you find that Joel’s still tangled up in the sheets, fast asleep. He had been assigned to the afternoon patrol route today—normally an early riser, if he was still snoozing, it meant that he really needed the rest. Deciding it was best to let him keep sleeping for a little while longer, you quietly tiptoe out of your shared bedroom and head downstairs into the kitchen.

After making yourself a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice, and one for the kid as well, you prepare the coffee maker for Joel. You spoon dark roast grounds into the filter and set the timer for the coffee to start brewing in thirty minutes.

He should be up by then, you think, pulling a basket of eggs out of the refrigerator.

You’re starting to get used to this. Domesticity.

Despite your protests, Maria had made the decision to pull you off patrol that same afternoon you had shared the news of your pregnancy. “I’m putting you on leave,” she’d told you. “Effective immediately. I don’t want to see you outside of these walls. Got it?”

“That’s not fair, Maria. You were out on patrol until—”

One stern glare from her had shut you right up.

“Fine.”

Sure, you missed it and looked forward to the day when you’d be able to get back into the saddle with your rifle in hand, but this way of life had grown on you. Certainly a lot more than you thought it would.

You enjoyed taking care of the house. Packing Ellie her lunch for school and checking her homework. Having a nice a meal on the table for the three of you to enjoy in the comfort of your own home instead of having to go down to the crowded mess hall for supper because you and Joel were both always much, much too tired after a long day out on patrol to bother with cooking.

With the baby due to arrive in the winter, looking after your little family had become your purpose, and you did not mind it one bit.

As strips of bacon sizzle in one pan on the gas powered stove, you crack a couple of eggs into another, knowing the kid is already on her way downstairs. You can hear the sound of her old, tattered low top sneakers that you have been trying to throw away for almost a year now squeaking on the kitchen tiles just as you finish plating her breakfast.

“Morning!” Ellie pipes, the loud plop of her backpack into a chair prompting you to turn around. “What’s for brea—whoa! Holy shit!” Her brown eyes widen in shock when she sees you and her jaw drops. “Dude.”

“Ellie,” you say her name warningly as you walk over to the table. “Don’t.”

“You’re bigger!”

With a playful glare, you set her plate down, along with her glass of orange juice. “Thanks a lot, you little jerk.” You feign offense. “You’re making your own eggs from now on.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” Ellie’s cheeks flush a shade of red and she squirms, sputtering apologetically, “I swear, I don’t mean it like that at all. It’s just, your stomach, it didn’t—you didn’t look like this last night, you know?”

She’s fucking lucky that your raging hormones decided to take the morning off duty.

“You look different. I mean, you look great—”

“Ellie?”

“Yeah?”

“Just shut up and eat.”

“Deal.”

She shoots you a sheepish grin and sits down, scarfing down her food in her usual manner. 

“You get your fractions homework done?”

“Yeah.” Ellie huffs, rolling her eyes. “Took me forever. I was up until fucking midnight.”

Amused, you offer, “Want me to check your work?”

“Sure.”

As Ellie inhales the rest of her breakfast, you pull out a green, single subject notebook from her backpack and look over her homework for miscalculations.

“So, uh, how are you feeling?” she asks after a minute.

“I’m feeling alright. I think the morning sickness finally stopped, so can’t complain.” Shrugging, you close the notebook and stick it into her backpack. “You did good, kid. Only got two problems wrong.”

“Man, I really wish we knew whether it’s a boy or girl,” Ellie mumbles through a mouthful of scrambled eggs. “What do you want to have, anyway?”

“It doesn’t matter to me, Ellie,” you answer, honestly. Clocking the skepticism on her face, you laugh and say, “It’s true. As long as the baby’s healthy, that’s all I care about.” And you mean it. As an expectant mother in the post outbreak world where medicine is scarce, supplies are limited, and the closest thing you have to a hospital is the town’s old clinic, the only thing you can hope for is the smooth, safe delivery of a healthy child.

Before she can say anything, you both catch the sound of Joel’s heavy boots as he descends the staircase.

She quirks an eyebrow. “Uh, has Joel seen you yet?”

Grimacing, you shake your head. “No.”

“Well, I don’t wanna be here for all that awkward,” Ellie says, chugging the rest of her orange juice. She stands up and snatches up her backpack, along with her lunch bag, which you’d packed for her earlier that morning. Just as she’s about to whirl around on the heel of her sneaker and make a run for the front door, she pauses, watching as you make your way back over to the stove to light another flame. “Unless you want me to be?”

“I’ll be fine, Ellie,” you assure her. “Go on, get to school. Maybe you’ll be on time to class for once.”

“If you say so.” She wishes you luck and then bolts out of the kitchen, throwing a quick goodbye at Joel on the way out. “See ya later, old man!”

Nervously, you turn around and start cracking another two eggs into the pan. There’s no telling how he’s going to react.

Joel’s been fairly supportive since you’d found out you were pregnant, considering how unplanned it was. But you know him like the back of your own hand, and you know, despite the numerous times he’s denied it, that it has been weighing heavily on him. Each time you’d try to sit down to talk to him about it, he would brush you off and insist he was fine. But he wasn’t fine.

And you wish he would spit it out and tell you why.

In your periphery, you notice the stained glass butterfly he had hung in front of the window above the sink, the ornament catching and refracting the sunlight. Flecks of color dance across the walls in captivating patterns, brightening the space. You think of the sweet little girl he’d hung it for, the little girl he rarely talks about, that he keeps tucked away safely in his memory.

You bite back a small sigh.

By now, you’ve learned not to push him. Especially not about what he was feeling. He would tell you when he was ready.

“Who the hell lit a fire under her ass this mornin’?” Joel asks gruffly as he walks into the kitchen. “She ain’t ever this fuckin’ eager to go to school.”

“Not sure,” you reply in the most nonchalant tone you can muster as you use a spatula to scramble the eggs. Transferring them onto a plate, you add three strips of bacon, and then pour his coffee. “I have your breakfast ready, Joel. Have a seat.”

You hear a chair scrape against the tile.

“I keep tellin’ you I can make my own breakfast, darlin’.”

“And I keep telling you I don’t mind making it for you,” you quip, and you hear him grumble something under his breath.

Inhaling a deep, calming breath through your nose, you take the plate of eggs and bacon in one hand, and his cup of coffee in the other. Your fingers grasp the handle of his ceramic, owl mug in a near death grip. You exhale slowly, and then turn around to face him.

He sees your swollen middle and stiffens in his chair. 

The tension is instantaneous. Palpable.

Uncomfortable.

Awkwardly, you shift from one foot to the other.

“Your belly,” Joel murmurs, a visible tick in his jaw as his gaze drags over your midsection. “S’bigger.”

“Yeah. It is. Guess I’m going to have to start trading for maternity clothes soon,” you remark, shuffling over to the table. Setting down the plate and mug of coffee in front of him, you take a seat across the table. Your eyes try desperately to meet his, but they refuse. There’s no way for you to decipher what he’s thinking. You let out a small, nervous laugh. “Can you please say something?” 

He lightly clears his throat. “I’ll take you to Main Street on Saturday,” he tells you, picking up his mug. “I’ve got the day off from patrol. I’ll, uh, pick through some of my own things and see what I don’t need so we can make a trade for some clothes.” He pauses, then offers quietly, “In the meantime, you can wear my shirts. They might be more comfortable for you.”

You flash him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Joel.”

Sipping his coffee, he continues to avoid your gaze.

“Mhm,” is all he says.

Your smile falters.

It’s the middle of August.

The afternoon heat is sweltering. Unforgiving.

“Jesus, it’s a fuckin’ scorcher,” Tommy sighs, glancing over towards the lake where his mare, Maxine, is taking a drink beside his brother’s stallion, Phoenix. His raven curls are damp with sweat, plastered to his forehead. “Hotter than the devil’s fuckin’ balls out here, ain’t it?”

He’s met with silence.

Looking over his shoulder, he sees Joel leaning against a tree, his rifle in hand as he stares at the Grand Tetons in the distance almost like he’s in a trance. “Joel?”

Blinking furiously, Joel shakes his head. “Sorry, you say somethin’ to me just now?” He asks in a daze, pushing away from the lodgepole pine. “We headin’ out?”

“You’ve been actin’ real strange all afternoon,” Tommy observes, walking towards him with his own gun slung over his shoulder. “Either the heat is startin’ to get to you, or you’ve got somethin’ on your mind, big brother.”

Joel hesitates. His dark eyes flit to the other side of the lake where the other members of their afternoon patrol group are refilling their canteens with water.

“S’alright,” his younger brother says. “Don’t worry ‘bout them. Can’t hear us.”

Joel’s chest heaves with a heavy sigh. “She popped.”

“Huh?”

“Her belly finally popped. She’s showin’ now.”

Amused, Tommy lightly shakes his head. “Y’shouldn’t be so surprised, Joel. Was ‘bout time,” he remarks with a shrug. “What is she—like six months along now?”

“She’ll be six months in a couple weeks.” Joel wipes the perspiration off his brow with the back of his hand and sighs once more. “Look, I ain’t stupid, Tommy. I knew it was bound to happen sooner or later, but it still caught me by surprise. When I saw her, it became real for me. She’s got my kid in there. I’m gonna be a dad again.”

“You’re scared.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement.

“Shitless,” Joel confesses, feeling his chest tighten. 

“What are you afraid of?”

Joel almost laughs.

He doesn’t know where to start.

He’s afraid of everything.

“All of it, Tommy. I’m afraid for her, havin’ to give birth with no medicine,” he tells him, his voice breaking. “I’m afraid I won’t remember what to do with a newborn or that I won’t know how to help her durin’ those first few months—”

“This ain’t your first rodeo,” Tommy reminds him. “You did it once, and you did just fine, Joel.”

“That was over three fuckin’ decades ago. And it was a different world. If Sarah—” He stops, taking a second to catch his breath. The image of his daughter’s little face flashing in his mind feels like a violent punch to the gut. Even after all this time, it still knocks all of the wind out of his lungs. “When her mom had trouble breastfeedin’ her, I could head to the grocery store and buy her baby formula. If she got a real bad fever, I could load her up in the truck and drive her to the emergency room.” He glances down at his broken watch. “Besides, I was a lot younger, then. And I wasn’t half fuckin’ deaf like I am now. When Sarah would wake up cryin’ in the middle of the night because she needed a diaper change, I’d hear her. What if I can’t hear my own kid cryin’?”

“Joel—”

“I’m in my fifties. What if I can’t keep up because I’m too fuckin’ old?”

Tommy reaches out, clapping a hand onto his shoulder.

“Brother, I need you to take a fuckin’ breath,” he says, chuckling softly. “You’re puttin’ the weight of the world of your shoulders right now—you need to put some of it down. Look, we might not have everythin’ we used to before the world ended, but we make do with what we do have. Considerin’ just how many growin’ families we have and how many little ones we’ve got runnin’ around our town, I’d say it’s workin’ out pretty fuckin well.” He gives his shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “And as far as your ability to be a good dad, you’ve still got it, Joel. You know what to do, and so does she. I’ve seen her in action with my little boy, and it seems like she’s already got those maternal instincts, y’know?”

“Yeah, she does,” Joels agrees quietly, thinking of how you had stepped up to help him care for Ellie.

“Trust me, between the two of you, it’ll be alright.”

He peers at him. “You really believe I still got it in me?”

“I do.” Tommy smiles. “You never stopped knowin’ how to be a father, Joel. You’re gonna be just fine.”

Their patrol shift extends into the evening, turning into a double, and it’s late when he gets home. 

“What the hell are you still doin’ up?” Joel asks when he finds Ellie sitting at the kitchen table, cursing to herself as she flips through the stale, yellowing pages of an old life science text book.

“What does it fucking look like, man?”

“Shouldn’t have waited until the last minute, kiddo—”

Ellie holds up a hand and cuts him off.

“Save the lecture for another time, dude. I’m busy.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “Finish up and get to bed. S’late.”

Without waiting for some smartass response, he turns on the heel of his boot and then heads upstairs to your shared bedroom. He flips on the lights only to find that you’re already in bed, fast asleep, wearing nothing but one of his t-shirts and a pair of panties. He toes off his boots and leaves them by the door, being as quiet as he possibly can as he rummages through his top drawer for some clean boxers to sleep in.

He slips into the bathroom where he takes a quick, hot shower, scrubbing off that day’s sweat, dirt, and grime. After he’s dressed and his sopping wet, salt and pepper curls are haphazardly towel dried, Joel walks back out into the bedroom where he switches off the lights and climbs into bed next to you.

He lays on his side and he’s just about to close his eyes when he feels a light shift beside him. You roll over and curl into him, your belly pressing up against his curve of his spine.

He stiffens, freezing as if someone had just placed the barrel of their pistol against his back, their finger over the trigger.

Christ, get a damn grip, he thinks silently to himself.

Joel thinks about that morning in the kitchen.

He knows his reaction had hurt you. Or rather, his lack of a reaction. His shitty ways of coping aren’t your fault, and his struggle to come to terms with your pregnancy sure as hell isn’t your fault, either. He owed it to you to try harder to be the man you needed.

The man you both needed.

Joel’s train of thought comes to a screeching halt when he feels a soft flutter against his middle of his back, the spot right where your tummy is nestled—did the baby just move?

He lies still, waiting to see if he feels it again, and when he doesn’t, he rolls over to face you, causing you to stir.

“Joel?” you mumble his name, sleepily. “What time—?”

“Shh,” Joel soothes, pulling you into his bare chest. He kisses your temple. “S’okay, baby. Go back to sleep.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice.

Within seconds, you’re asleep again, snuggled into him and snoring softly.

Lifting a hand, he hesitates, then rests it on your belly.

He waits.

And waits.

And waits.

And waits.

Until the minutes turn into hours.

Until dawn’s light filters in through the lace curtains. 

Until he finally feels that little flutter again.

He feels it against the palm of his hand. Faint, nothing more than a brief whisper against his skin, but there is no mistaking it.

He’d just felt the baby’s movement.

There’s a sudden shift.

Tense muscles that had been painfully wound up since the moment you’d mentioned to him your period was a week late back in the spring loosen slightly—the breath he had been holding since he’d picked up that positive pregnancy test from the bathroom counter finally falls from his lips, fanning over yours.

His fears, his worries, his uncertainties about what lies ahead, they’re all still there, of course, but he finds they are now accompanied by a glimmer of hope, a sliver of optimism that maybe, just maybe, Joel doesn’t have to be as afraid as he is.

Joel’s eyes glaze over your face, warmth radiating in his chest when you breathe a little a sigh of content in your sleep as he gently rubs your stomach through his shirt.

With his hand still splayed over your belly, he closes his eyes and begins to drift off, falling into the most decent sleep he’s had in the last few months.

Maybe his brother’s right.

Maybe he will be just fine.

divider credit to @saradika 🤍

[vivwritesfics]

Cat Mom 🤝 Cat Dad

Max likes being anonymous on these bengal cat forums. He likes making friends and talking about his cats without his own name attached to it. The Italian princess likes the same thing (jeez I wonder what happens next)

I had to do a special one for the actual day of my birthday lol

Jim&Sass

Help! My cat got stuck in another room!

Jam&Toast

Dude get offline and go help them!

Jim&Sass

What do I do! The door is stuck!

Jam&Toast

Get a hammer!

Max did just that. He didn't knew the person giving him advice, but he knew her cats. Jam and Toast. Her post showing off her pretty cats, two bengals, were how he knew her. There was nothing else about her, just her cats.

It wasn't a lot that he knew about it, but it was enough. He didn't know that she was sitting eagerly by her laptop, waiting for his confirmation that his cat was all right.

Jimmy and Sassy's dad was an enigma. But Jimmy and Sassy looked sweet and the stories he told about them were adorable.

That was what she called him in her head, Jimmy and Sassy's dad. She was sure her name in his head was similar. Jam and Toast's mum.

Jam&Toast

Did you get them out?

There was a moment where he didn't respond, where he must have been getting the cat out of the other room. Her perfectly manicured nail was between her teeth, but she didn't bite down.

Her nail had been perfectly done for when the driver's arrived for Monza.

His icon popped up in the bottom of the screen, three little dots beside it. She leaned forward as his message appeared on her screen.

Jim&Sass

Sassy is safe

Not sure what I'm gonna do about the giant whole in my door

Jam&Toast

Oh, you've got to show me that door

A picture from him came through within seconds. There was his door, with a decent sized hole in the middle of it.

Jam&Toast

Holy shit, dude

Jim&Sass

Trust me, I know

He was easy to talk to. Grabbing her laptop, she sat herself on her bed, placed her laptop on her bed, and settled down for the night. Jam and Toast, her two Bengal cats, were curled around each other at her feet, fast asleep.

She turned her laptop around and awkwardly snapped a picture of her two sleeping cats. The picture wasn't the greatest, and it was kind of hard to see two cats laying there, but she sent it anyway.

He sent pack a picture of Sassy licking a yoghurt treat from his hand.

They could have spent the entire night talking, the conversation branching away from their cats, but Jimmy and Sassy's dad had to go. She didn't ask where he was going, wished him safe travels and shut her laptop for the night.

***

Jimmy and Sassy's dad hadn't been online since Wednesday. She hadn't expected him to message her while he was away, having fun. But she did miss him. She missed talking about Jam and Toast to somebody that wouldn't brush her off, missed hearing about his cats.

It was Sunday, and she was on the grid. It was a bit of fun, going down to the grid. Sometimes Martin Brundle attempted to speak to her on his Grid Walk.

She stood by the Ferrari, talking to her good friend, Charles Leclerc. When Martin Brundle tried to speak to her, her security guard sent him away.

"Did you hear about Max's cats?" Charles asked after she had told him all about the stuff Jam and Toast had been doing that week. At least he wasn't changing the subject completely.

She frowned at him. "Max Verstappen?" She asked and Charles nodded.

"One of his cats got stuck in a storage room, nearly broke his arm trying to get her out."

She glanced from side to side, trying to look for Max on the grid.

***

Max watched as the Italian Princess approached him with the trophy. It wasn't a win, but he was still grinning. Charles had won Monza in a Ferrari, and Max was proud.

The Princess smiled at him. Max didn't want to consider it flirty, but he didn't know how else to interpret it.

After the Italian national anthem, they left the podium. Max grinned down at his trophy before throwing his arm around Charles' shoulder.

He saw the Italian Princess striding towards them. Stepping back, Max watched as she threw her arms around Charles. They spoke in Italian as she looked at the trophy Charles held.

Max went to move around them, but the Princess fixed him with a look. "How are Jimmy and Sassy?" She asked, letting go of Charles.

His cheeks were pink as he answered her. "They're good," he answered. "With the cat sitter, probably being naughty."

It wasn't a terrible response, but he wasn't getting it. "Max," she said and took a step closer. He was trying so hard not to look weirded out, she could tell. Her hand was on her hip, head slightly tipped to the side. "When are you flying back home?"

He answered and she checked the dainty watch on their wrist. "Do you think you have time to come and meet my cats, Jam and Toast?"

The surprise on his face was evident. "No fucking way."

[malewifesband]

i see it often that people do not see laios liking kabru, but in reality laios does like kabru! quite a lot for a guy that (from his perspective) he just met! laios forgetting kabrus exact name is not evidence of disinterest in any way--hes only heard it a couple of times, he struggles with small details (unless you want to argue laios also doesnt give a shit about marcille, chilchuck and senshi, he also forgets small details about them. if you do think this, i think dungeon meshi may be too advanced for you. stick to bluey.), and the man has autism. like near explicitly.

laios offers food from their limited supplies because kabru showed an interest in eating monsters, and makes him an omelette so he can have something to eat even though other food was already being prepared. he listens to kabrus criticism of his behavior and mindset in trying to protect falin even though she was straight up killing people, and tries to drag kabru to safety. he watches kabru defuse the situation between himself and toshiro masterfully, and confides in him how hurt he is that toshiro is so angry and how he mustve done something truly awful to upset him like that. when kabru tells him that meeting him was the best part of his time in the dungeon, laios agrees and says its the same for him (remember: laios doesnt do empty platitudes well--if he said it, he meant it).

when kabru leaves, we get three fucking panels in a row of laios staring after him, flexing the hand kabru was just holding, and reflecting on kabrus words ("next time..?")

when kabru shows up again deep in the dungeon, chilchuck is suspicious, but laios is so excited to see him that he throws caution to the wind and lets kabru hold his hand again despite seconds later crossing succubus off his list of shapeshifters that could be appearing as kabru--a carelessness around monsters and danger laios rarely exhibits. when kabru gives his warning about the canaries, laios is grateful. he notices how often kabru saves his skin

when lycion reveals that kabru lied about wanting to eat the omelette laios made, it breaks his heart because he made that with love! he made it for kabru, and kabru didnt like it, and now he knows kabru was just playing at friendship to use him. that breaks his heart, hes distraught, but he doesnt have time to be hurt about it when marcille needs his help urgently so he turns to run to her. he apologizes to kabru and tries to leave again. he isnt listening to what kabru is saying here because kabru was just revealed as a liar and because it doesnt really cohere (kabru is stuttering and speaking in broken sentences as he tries to explain about the dungeons power) and he needs to save marcille

he doesnt believe kabru wanted to be his friend, because who would? why would laios be special enough, loveable enough, to go through the pains kabru went through, just to be his friend? but when kabru makes the intensity of his desire known, laios promises to feed him again, at a proper restaurant --and again, food is care for laios, to feed someone is to love them. marcille is still his priority bc she is in real danger but he means what he says, he really does want to start over with kabru and be real friends with him

once we hit the resolution of the story, kabru near glues himself to laios, helping him and trying to cement himself as a right-hand man, and making known his intent to support laios no matter what. in the medieval manuscript style epilogue, kabru is one of two friends that stick by laios as he becomes king. both marcille and kabru become the people closest to him (besides falin of course), two friends who will always support him, always let him know when hes fucked up and theyre mad at him, two friends who he can rely on. laios did not have to accept kabru as an advisor, he did not have to ask him to stay with him. he did that because after everything, he trusts kabru now, and knows he can count on him

while laios doesnt give any big monologues about what he likes about kabru, its very clear he does, and we know what things laios values in other people. he appreciates kabrus social skills (very clear in the post canon comic in the adventurers bible), his intelligence, that kabru WANTS to be around him and understand him even though its difficult, his strength, and frankly he does appreciate his charm (three fucking panels straight of staring after him). laios really values people with specialized skillsets who are willing to tell him frankly what they think and advise him in areas he is weak in (something we see in his relationship with... i was gonna say namari but its everyone. he does this with everyone he likes. and in the resolution kabru does this CONSTANTLY he does not go a panel without giving laios his professional opinion on how to deal with people).

in conclusion: arent you hungry, kabru? let laios make something for you

[wroteclassicaly]

Summary: During your shift you overhear a conversation that kind of sends you spiraling.

Warnings: Language, angst, self-esteem issues, hurt with MAJOR comfort, and protective Steve.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Female Reader

Wordcount: 1,924

A/N: Just a little something, cause’ I’m on my period and feeling it…

You aren’t acting like your usual self - zero pep in your step, no smiles from anything or for anyone. Steve doesn’t expect that from you all of the time, but he can sense something is majorly wrong. You simply give him a whispered hey as you climb into the beemer’s passenger, buckling your seatbelt and lowering your gaze to the small wallet you’d brought with you today. It’s when he leans across the console, leather creaking under his movements, to kiss you - that he is for surely locked in on something being up with you. You’re pulling yourself away from his lips before they can even touch your cheek.

At the start of your relationship, Steve was always doing checklists, to see if you were unnerved about, even the smallest of things (which never had anything to do with him, half the time, as he found out). He tried to go over what he could’ve done wrong, how he needed to fix that. But as the trust with the new stage of your relationship grew, the romance had cemented itself - Steve felt like he had to do this less and less with you. You were a team - secure and honest.

You, however, are caught into the expanse of your head, strangled by those vines that are always undoing themselves from their silence to torment you. Copious, self-negative, berating thoughts that are meant to tear you apart. You manage to see Steve frown in your peripheral, which makes your lips part in an attempt to start your explanation. He’s more than ready to receive.

“Hey, Harrington. You have a few minutes?”

That same sugary, sickly sweet voice from minutes prior. You and your boyfriend both look in time to see her blond hair lean into the window, arms propped, pink lined lips speaking, bangles accentuated on her thin wrists, and the overpowering scent of her fruity perfume. Your chest burns with the nerve of her, throat watering with unshed tears — your body feeling as if it’s slipped a flight of stairs for everyone to witness, see your smoldering humiliation as it crackles across your chest. Old Steve might be cocky, might even be rude. But your best-friend turned boyfriend - he is no longer that way.

“What’s up? Everything okay?” He’s a little hesitant, his focus coming back onto you. His knee juts from his foot bouncing on the floor, eager to leave her over bearing interjection into your conversation. He’s pissed at her and her friend standing idly nearby, as you begin to shut down what you were about to open up to him about.

Her friend giggles from beside her and you audibly swallow, using your pinky to play with the newest charm Steve had added to your bracelet (a little baseball glove, because you’re always ‘catching his heart’). It’s your tell-tale nervous sign, he’s aware. The girl in the window starts talking again before he can say anything. She shows off neon pink talons for nails, pearly whites grinning at Steve. “I just got these done about a half an hour ago. And something is wrong with my car, so I obviously need to pop the hood, but I don’t want to ruin them. Like, you know what I mean?”

The eye roll that leaves you, all emotions aside, Steve is amused by. He reaches for your hand, and you let him squeeze. “Do you mind, baby? I’ll just pop the hood and they can call someone if it needs something else done.”

This makes you feel a little better, the girl having to hide her displeasure underneath her smile, which turns into a smirk as Steve exits the car and follows them to her convertible. She makes a show in her tight tube top and jean shorts, not getting to the hood immediately. You only imagine what they’re saying to Steve. But you do remember what they’ve just said about you.

“I mean, he picks her up daily and I don’t even think she offers him gas money.”

You’d stopped organizing the front candy counter to lean around and listen in. Steve picks you up everyday, never asking for anything return - even if you always offer. They have to mean you, right? Your breath had started quickening, focus wavering. The rush of burgundy is within your sights as he pulls up storefront, shades on, head tilted back, arm out the window with a cigarette in hand.

“He’s dating her though, so why would she?”

“Please. He needs to be asked if he is. I don’t buy it, at all. I mean, Nancy Wheeler was a goody two shoes, but at least she was pretty. Buckley is a fucking motor mouth, but she’s also okay.”

Former insecurities when you got together. Even as a friend as you crushed on him, these thoughts had plagued you. You were heated, body light.

“He never dated Buckley.”

A deep sigh. “Obviously, but he clung to her like a puppy. He’s downgraded with this one. She’s been hanging on him for years and I don’t know if he warrants it or just tolerates it.”

Don’t make any noise, don’t say a word. You should stop listening, say something. All things that you didn’t do, just kept listening to them dump on you.

“She’s the real reason Harrington struck out all the time. WHO the fuck wants to date someone that allows a loser like that to be attached to their hip non-stop? I mean, is it a kind, charitable thing to do? Sure. But he needs to draw a line between the good and the bad, babe.”

Your dress had felt to tight on your body - one you wore to surprise Steve today. Excited to be with him for the weekend, casting aside conflicting schedules. Your face became dull, heartbeat slowing, eyes glossing over. You swore you could taste the acidic bile of breakfast on your tongue.

“She’s been that ugly two for one special, kills all of his chances by hanging around him. The real reason he struck out so much.”

You turn your back to the conversation, despite still having been able to hear it. No use in trying to block it out, for it had found you in surround sound.

“Didn’t he ask you on a date, Chelsea? And you turned him down?”

She scoffed. “My point exactly. She makes him less appealing. He’s just with her because he thinks that he should be, and because she’s the one that’s around him too much. He peaked in high school, but she’s certainly holding that fine ass of his back. Can you imagine the sex he’s wasting on that?”

You’re so caught up in your momentary memories, that you don’t even see Steve as he piles back into the car, his entire body lax, but his shoulders tense. His face holds a reserved softness for you. His voice, though, that takes on an entirely different undertone of mixed meanings - somewhere between a raging anger and a featherlight craving to provide solace. He’s saying something that takes you a few seconds to catch up with, your blurred vision noticeable. It confirms his suspicions that he’d accumulated by being hit on at the girl’s car.

“They came from your store, didn’t they? What did they say to you?” He sighs, trying to let that show, so that you don’t mistake it for annoyance.

“It’s… nothing. I’m okay.“

“Baby…” The way it’s practically pled, it makes you look at him. You meet concerned, slightly widened, mossy eyes, sun reflected in the enriching pools. His grown out caramel hair is a mess, shades pushed back to sit atop, his sun kissed skin visible through his white Kenny G shirt, along with overgrown chest hair, his chain length bracelet and neck chain (a gift from you for his latest birthday), and his ripped jeans he’d cut to make capri shorts.

He definitely shouldn’t be yours.

You reach to fiddle with the chain, that nervous habit back again. And Steve settles into your touch as it drums across his jugular. He tilts his head to kiss to the side of your fingers when they brush by. You pause to retreat, but he’s swift to take your hand in his, playing with your bracelet this time. How massive he looks in comparison.

You feel a calloused finger brush beneath your chin, bringing it up. His eyes are darting back and forth across your face. “Tell me what they said to you. I know that’s why you’re upset.”

“Were they talking about me?” Immediate humiliation settles in.

He’s quick to correct. “No, no. I just mean that when they started in with the flirting after I opened the hood, I was uncomfortable and I know you were. And I also remember that they did come from the video store, too.”

Your voice breaks and he slides his spare hand to your neck’s nape, bringing your forehead to his as you begin to tell him everything that was said. Safe to say, he’s NOT happy by the time that you’re finished, and he does a double take to look for their car. It’s already gone and he curses. “Shit. That’s fucking bullshit!”

He can’t fathom the process that he went through as you told him each and every single word heard. His tongue is tied, he wants to plead with you to know that it’s not true, that all of those things have NEVER been like that. There’s only one truth. And so, he tries with all his heart to explain it to you.

“God, honey, you have to know that when I’m with you, I don’t see anything else, can’t see anyone else. For years, it’s always just been you. I don’t care about who I was before. The man I am now, he wants his life to be with yours. He’s pretty gone on you, like in a stupid, I’ll almost die for you again, even when you tell me not to - kind of way, and probably more.”

Your heart rate has started speeding up again, caught beneath your breastbone, trying to find your throat, but can’t get through its tightness. You’re openly crying now, to which Steve solves by thumbing away, the bridge of his nose nudging yours, mouth laying his next statement in to cross. “Words, they’re not my strong point, you know that. But I want you to know that I’d learn a fucking dictionary in every single language if it meant I could tell you in better terms, how much you mean to me, how perfect you are, how beautiful, funny, and smart, how sexy, how tough, how loyal, how honest, how creative, how strong, and so much fuckin’ more... How what they said was the farthest thing from the truth, that they’re just jealous, airheaded bimbos.”

You let your palms find his face, the ache in your body causing a prickling in your toes. You’re pliant against his chest as he unbuckles your belt and his, pinching your waist and using his forearm to halfway hoist you middle way over the console to meet his mouth, all the while he’s whispering between every kiss, “I love you. I love you. So fucking much. I love you, honey.”

You don’t have to stop kissing to tell him that you love him back. Steve can feel it in the way that you hold onto him, tears changing, rolling from your cheeks and dripping onto his lips. I love you.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

healing touch

words: 700

warnings: established relationship, catcalling

“you've changed.” rafe observes, cocking his head to the side as you don't respond to his arrival home, or even budge at his words. your eyes are stared straight forward, blank and almost hollow, so unlike the vibrancy rafe is used to seeing when he looks at you.

“baby.” rafes voice is softer now as he takes a step forward, not trying to startle you from your place perched on the countertop, sat with your legs pulled up to your chest, chin against your knees.

“darling.” rafe steps closer again, and your eyelashes finally flutter as you notice him, looking up without even a crack of a smile.

“what's wrong?” he asks, suppressing the urge to get angry, to lash out at whoever-whatever, he doesn't care, made you feel this way. rafe knows he needs to stay calm for you, placing his hands on your hips and looking you in your chocolate brown eyes.

“i decided to walk today to vikeys.” you tell rafe, swallowing harshly.

“uh huh.” rafe knows you usually go to a friend's house when he's gone for the day, giving yourself something to do and also a chance to catch up when you can't be with your boyfriend.

“and i walked past that construction site. you know the new apartments being put up.” you wait for rafe to nod before continuing. “the… the workers there were on their lunch break and they…”

“what did they do?” rafe asks, harsh tone slipping into his voice, but you know it's not meant for you.

“they were just whistling at me at first. i tried to walk by faster, i crossed the street, but they just got louder. started talking about- about what they'd do to me.”

you don't have to say anything more for rafe to understand. he carefully pulls your legs down and pulls you to the edge of the marble countertop so he can press you against his chest, knowing that what you need at the moment is his touch, his hold.

“i got to vickys as soon as i could. i just felt disgusting, gross. she let me shower there and borrow a pair of clothes before driving me back home.”

“ill make sure to thank vicky for helping out my girl.” rafe presses a kiss to the top of your head. “you could have called me though, baby.”

“i-i know.” you look up at rafe, tears welling up. “i just wasn't thinking. i felt like i was in another body almost.”

“and how are you feeling now?” rafe asks, his hands gently petting up and down your back.

“better now that you're here.” you sigh out. 

“did you eat?” rafe glances at the clock, knowing he's home a bit later than usual. 

when you shake your head no, rafe pauses for a moment to think. “how about we order pizza and relax and watch that new season of the tv show you've been hounding me to see?” rafe sees a little spark back in your eyes just from the mention of relaxing with him.

“and im taking the rest of the week of work.” rafe grabs his phone out of his pocket to order pizza before you can argue, but there is one last piece of work rafe has to do before he can be satisfied.

--

you hum along to the song as rafes hand grips your thigh, the other on the steering wheel as he brings you back home from the country club, having went “golfing” with him, which really just means driving the cart around while he plays.

“rafe-” you turn to look at him with confusion when he turns down the wrong street.

“just want you to see something.” he says, pulling up to the construction site you got cat called in front of, the words echoing through your mind until rafe reminds you of where you are and who you're with with a soft squeeze of your leg, snapping you out of it.

you look at the sign in front of the fence. cameron developments.

“you… you bought whole apartment complex?”

“and fired the entire previous crew. they won't find work in this town again, trust me.”

“oh, rafe.” you launch yourself over the center console, kissing him deeply as your arms wrap around his shoulders.

“as much as i like kissing you, baby-” rafe says, mumbling against your lips. “how about we wait until we get home to continue this?”

you giggle and sit back on your seat as he speeds off.

sfw tags: @winterrrnight @ladyinbl00d @bejeweledreverie @ethanthequeefqueen @drewsephrry

[mournings-stars]

hazbin characters wrapping their wings around you headcanons

based on this lil idea

lucifer

he would literally keep you wrapped in his wings all night — all day if he could

this is definitely one of his favorite ways to show intimacy like he loves having you close to him; touching him, relying on him, holding him. it makes him feel so close to you, how could he not love it?

the minute this man sees you even shiver he’s wrapping his wings around you “are you cold?” doesn’t matter what you say, you’re already wrapped in his wings

whenever you fall asleep next to him, he just drapes his wings over you as a warm, feathery blanket, watching you relax with a smile

if you were to curl into his wings or hug them closer, he’s already planning your future (then he’s also trying not to make a sound that would wake you up cus i just know his wings are sensitive)

now if you used a blanket instead of his wings, he’d definitely start to wonder if he did something, but if you seemed uncomfortable, shifting and turning, he’d cautiously drape his wings over you and make him melt with how quickly you settled

if you said something like “i didn’t want to inconvenience you by asking” he’d just put his wings around you anyway and tell you to go back to sleep with a reminder you could never inconvenience him

if you do ask him, he’s trying his hardest not to swoon like… “i’m a little chilly, is it okay if—“ and he’s already (literally) got you covered

if you’re in public and someone looks at you the wrong way, best believe he’s using his wings to pull you to his side and drape over you without even acknowledging that other demon

this is literally second nature for him he loves things like this (anything for his love)

vaggie

so if this was vaggie in heaven, she’d probably be reluctant to do it

like she’s a soldier! she can’t just let someone curl up in her wings!

but she does…

see, if you’re alone, sitting together on the couch or something, her wings are wrapped around you and they are not moving

she will literally fall asleep like that

if we’re talking hell vaggie, she’s always ready to wrap her wings around you and protect you

someone she doesn’t trust is in front of you? she’s pushing you behind her and wrapping her wings around you

you need comfort? her wings are wrapped around you while her hands are holding yours

i think vaggie also uses her wings to give you both some privacy

if you lean in for a kiss, she’s shielding you with her wings so she can kiss you how she wants

she’s a lover girl i just know she is

and she loves when you touch her wings (yes theyre probably sensitive too but she can control herself unlike some people) so if you’re sleeping together, her wings around you, and you wake up first you never push her wings off of you

sometimes you’ll just sit and run your fingers over them, feeling them stretch around you until she woke up and used her wings to pull you closer with a smile

yes she can make her wings appear and disappear, but whenever you’re around they’re out since she knows you like them

and if you ask her to wrap them around you, she’ll first make sure you’re alright but then, of course, give you what you asked for

for heaven vaggie i think itd grow on her but for hell vaggie she’d already love it and it’d just make her feel so much closer to you

husk

okay husk is definitely the kind of guy to use is wings to stop you from walking into traffic or some shit (or even walking toward alastor)

he’s more of a “put his wing in front of you if someone looks at you wrong” kinda guy

overlord husk would definitely have you under his wing for protection from anyone trying to gamble with him

if anyone tried to bargain with him for you/your attention, he’s got his wing out in front of you (and he’s taking their soul)

if theres a brawl going on, he’ll shield you with his wings while he deals with it cus theres no way he’s letting anything happen to you (and since he knows he’ll win, there’s no way he’s letting any blood get on you either)

now when he’s asleep is when he’s not in control of what his wings do (or he his just subconsciously)

his wings would be draped over you — and if you just so happened to fall asleep first with a blanket, that blanket would somehow magically disappear and you’d wake up in the morning with his wings as a much softer alternative

if you got up in the middle of the night you best believe he’s waking up and waiting for you to get back before falling right back asleep when you do with his arm and wing over you

now if you asked him to drape his wings over you, he’s 100% doing it without question. anything you want, no complaints

husk may be a private guy but he’s very caring

adam

now this man is 1000% percent used to wrapping you up in his wings

you’ll somehow end up having office sex and he’ll have to wrap his wings around you when someone walks in, masking it as polishing his feathers

he’d start doing this when you were alone, finding it so much more intimate (but also secretive and more arousing)

whenever he wants a kiss, he’s wrapping his wings around you so you can’t get away (not that you’d want to)

if he’s teasing you, he’s got his wings wrapped around you, mocking you for liking it so much and then using the privacy of his wings to dote on you, whispering sweet nothings and peppering kisses on your face (before he goes right back to being an ass)

if you even try to use a blanket over his wings, he’s the most pissy, butthurt man in all of heaven “want me to fluff them up for you or some shit? what’s this about?” and it’d slowly morph into “are you mad at me?” then “so… you want to break up” and you’d have to talk him down until you were safely wrapped in his wings

if you fell asleep before he got home, under a blanket, he’d literally just get rid of the blanket and wait for you to curl into him, sleepily grabbing for a blanket and giving him the perfect opportunity to stretch out his wings and watch you burry yourself beneath them

now if you grab his wings at all, he’s waking you up because he can’t handle that “what’d i tell you about touching my wings, babe?” (but you’d grab them again anyway)

if you ask him to put his wings around you in public, he’ll deny it because he’s so off guard that his sensitive wings could not handle wrapping around you without taking you home (of course as soon as you got home he’d apologize and give you what you wanted)

now you just ask out of the blue to see his wings involuntarily fluff and stretch and watch him choke on his words

if you asked when you were alone he’d be happy to oblige

sometimes you’d walk down the promenade and he’d just put his wing over you to make sure everyone knew who you were

after a gig, same thing, no one is getting near you

adam is a little bit inept when it comes to romance, but this definitely makes up for it

lute

under no circumstances is she wrapping her wings around you absolutely not

okay maybe

okay definitely

you’re sleeping? obviously, you needed a blanket (you definitely didn’t purposely not get one) and her wings were perfect for that

watching a movie? well, she doesn’t want to sit on her wings so obviously she just needs to stretch them out. it’s not her fault you’re sitting next to her

you’re reading? you like to be cozy and she couldn’t find a blanket to give you so her wings are the next best thing (or best thing really)

don’t even think about asking for it though, she will stop…. for like three days then go right back to doing it cus she misses you

and she does not like the fact that you’re under some blanket because she just knows it’s not warm

yes. she would be jealous of a blanket.

she hides the blankets but so do you so its okay

now theres no chance in hell she’s putting her wings anywhere near you in public

….good thing you’re in heaven!

if someone is a little too friendly, she’s stretching her wings out then using one to pull you close before walking away with a sour look on her face and dragging you with her

she also uses her wings to stop you from doing things, but if you move them out of the way she’s gotta stop herself from doing something

don’t touch her wings… seriously don’t. she wont know what to do with herself and you’ll have a serious problem on your hands (maybe a clingy problem depending on the day)

now say both of you are exorcists, she’s definitely using her wings to protect you. there’s a sinner trying to fight back? she’s darting to you, wrapping her wings around you, and getting rid of that sinner faster than you can blink

and in that last battle??? she’s not letting you anywhere near that shield, keeping you behind her with her wings shielding you. once its gone, she’s slaughtering anyone that gets near you and using her wings to move you out of the way, keep you close, or take blows for you (i just know once lute cares about someone she’s protecting them with her life cus she refuses to lose anyone)

once you get home she’s got you wrapped up in her wings and holding you close

if you’re not an exorcist, she’s doing this after every extermination — there’s no way she’s letting you go and she’ll fall asleep like that before you even get the chance to talk about it, or worse get up and leave her (and she is not talking about it the next day so don’t bother trying, she’ll just ignore you and hand you a blanket… before getting jealous later)

and if you hold her back, you can feel her wings flutter while she sleeps, folding in and pulling you impossibly closer

(i love this mean little angel u guys)

[originalwinnerfanfish]

Well, I did it

Megatron - I love his tfp design. Probably one of the best iteration of Megs. He is huge, heavy armoured, his face covered with scars… He doesn’t looks like an ordinary military leader who is only capable of giving orders, but like real warrior who can destroy any enemy with his bare hands.

So, in the WOF version, he definitely shares some features with Princess Burn, not only because of his might, but also because of his horns shape and dirty-dark scales (that absorbed blood of his enemies)

Starscream - Boy, I hate him so much 🤣… but in the good way, trust me! In my opinion, when the show's creators make you feel such strong negative emotions towards a villain, it means they've done a great job. Also, I think that his animation in the show was absolutely incredible, because even though he's a 3D model, he still manages to move like a 2D character, which is amazing!

I feel that in my design he still looks more like a skywing, than an icewing (which is kinda logical)

Soundwave - This one was tricky. I couldn't figure out what his mask would look like, so I just made his face a really dark color. I think Soundwave has both gifts of the nightwings, and he’s equally great at telepathy and a future vision. So he doesn't really need equipment to predict enemy movements, which makes him an ideal communicator in the WOF setting. His Laserbeak is part of the armor enchanted by Shockwave, and it might also allow him to open portals (but I'm not sure with this one)

Shockwave - My favourite evil genius. He would definitely have animus magic and mind reading. I think Shockwave is the only one who has advanced the study of magic so far, precisely because he combined it with scientific knowledge and created safer methods of using it, that don't damage the mind. It's like if a Mastermind got animus magic in books.

I also like to think that he didn't heal the damaged part of his face just so that his enemies would fear him more)

Dreadwing - This man deserved better! It's really a shame that he was removed from the show so quickly due to financial problems. It would be great if his arc got a proper conclusion in season 3.

Considering that I didn't want to make him a hybrid, it was difficult to choose a suitable color palette. So let’s just say, that I tried my best😅

I don’t think that he would have any nightwing powers, but honestly it doesn’t even matter - this guy can make a bombs, what else does he need to be cool

Arachnid - Did anyone even doubt that she would be a hivewing? Damn, she even got her own “Othermind” virus. Her design was the easiest to work with - just a little poisonous ass (suspiciously similar to Maleficent).

Just like Starscream, I hate her, but in a good way. She's one of the creepiest characters in the entire series, who’s acting like a fucking heartless monster, especially with Arcee, but even so, there's always was something mesmerizing about her. I just really like strong female villains

Knockout - Wery bright and charismatic guy, definitely one of my fav cons!

I tried to draw him as handsome as possible. Worked a lot on the face shape and coloring, and as for me it turned out pretty nice (finally).

Most decepticons think Knockout is as stupid and lazy as all the other rainwings. And it's not like he completely disagrees with that. Of course he’s not stupid and lazy, but if it’s means less dirty work on the battlefield, well, he’ll continue act like a tipical rainwing

(I also believe that Megatron keeps him as an “art”)

Breakdown - Fun fact: "Operation Breakdown" was the very first thing I saw in this series. And it was an interesting experience for 8 year old me. Maybe that's why I'm so scared of eye gouging scenes in movies now…

I think that he didn't have any siblings initially due to his parents nature, and even after meeting Bulkhead, he felt uncomfortable among the other mudwings. And this is why he later chose the side of the decepticons. And maaaaybe because of one cute rainwing influence)

P.s.

I think that, being mostly nightwings and icewings, the decepticons are much more concerned about purity of their blood and rarely accept half-breeds into their ranks.

During the war, there were many animus dragons among decepticons, which is why they have so many artifacts that allowed teleportation and communication at a distance. But, honestly, I still can't imagine what Nemesis would look like in this AU

[whathorselegs]

I think one of my favourite character journeys in BSD has to be Kunikida learning to be better with kids because you'd expect it to be a fun wholesome character arc. Only, it ends up being heart breaking as it's immediately turned against Kunikida.

Despite the 'Dad status' that the fandom has given Kunikida, he was actually terrible with kids towards the start of the manga.

Take how he treated Atsushi in the first chapter. (Yes, Atsushi is not a little kid, but he was a starving and vulnerable orphan when they met.) When Kunikida and Dazai mention the 'man-eating tiger' Atsushi immediately freaks out and tries to run away.

What does Kunikida do? He grabs Atsushi, slams him to the floor and then threatens to break his arm for information.

It's Dazai of all people who has to reign Kunikida in reminding him "The boss himself warned you that the gathering of intelligence needn't be an interrogation". Dazai was the sweet talker and Kunikida was threat, even to a terrified, starving orphan.

Later with Kyouka, he's not much better. He attempts to intimidate her into giving the agency information. Whilst Atsushi now fulfils the role of the gentle approach. She's a mafia assassin after all, even if he knows she had no choice in it, Kunikida treats her as a threat before he treats her as a child.

Even with Aya, the interaction that gave Kunikida his 'dad status', he started off badly. But, it is here we start to see Kunikida trying to be better, trying to take a softer approach, even if he's clumsy with it.

When he realizes Aya was just handed a bomb, he snatches it from her and gets rid of it. That can't be helped it was a literal ticking time bomb, he then phones the authorities to deal with it. He was planning to leave, it's only because he caught sight of Aya sitting alone did he approach her. It wasn't his first instinct.

If he hadn't seen her in that moment, he might not have gone looking for her at all.

He asks her if she's alright and then she shocks him by wanting to hunt down the culprit. He rightfully tries to dissuade her, but again, he's not good with kids, he's blunt and argumentative with her.

Obviously, that's not going to convince a kid with a hero complex to not chase the bad guy.

However, his turning point, in my opinion, is when he realizes he has to choose between Aya and the people on the train. Now, he had already set off the stun grenade and is putting all his faith in Yosano finding them. He trusts her so he knows they are most likely going to be okay.

But Aya doesn't know that and he can't explain it all in the time they have. He sees a child who thinks she's about to die and is trying to be brave about it. And Kunikida comforts her. He needs her to know that she's not alone, that she's not going to suffer, that he is with her and he hugs her.

There was no need for him to step into that explosion with Aya except to comfort her. He chose to do that. Above his own life, he chose her needs.

And that's where this journey starts to get heartbreaking, because Kunikida hadn't always been like this. He was obviously always going to try and protect children, his ideals state as much, but he also didn't believe himself to be a hero. He doesn't see himself as someone capable or even worthy of that role.

So he built up a barrier around himself that made him harsher and more callous. He called it a professional detachment. He had to, it was to protect himself, to keep his sanity in those moment when they couldn't save everyone. Now it's breaking down and he's showing more and more how much he cares.

And it's immediately used against him.

The very scenario that got him to open up is placed in front of him again. A child with a bomb around their throat. Only this time Yosano isn't there, and this time Fyodor is orchestrating it.

And Kunikida does everything right. He tells Atsushi to leave and carry on the mission so he can stay and help the child. He gets on the child's level, makes himself small and none threatening. He reassures the child in gentle voice that everything will be okay.

And then, it's the line "How about a magic trick?" that really gets me, because he's trying so hard to present himself as someone trustworthy. And a magic trick is exactly what he pulled off with Aya, but it's what goes wrong here.

Because Fyodor planned it this time. He didn't just target children to get at Kunikida, he made a twisted mockery of what happened to Aya. Except she doesn't live this time and Kunikida can't bring this child any comfort or safety because Kunikida is the threat. This child dies alone and afraid because Kunikida was there, just like Fyodor planned.

Fyodor saw Kunikida bare his heart once and immediately reached in his chest and crushed it.