#because what if they like the fic you just called bad

[p0orbaby]

sick lessi fic 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️ clingy gf

taking care of that cutie

-

Alessia is splayed across your sofa like an artist’s rendering of human misery. Her hoodie—an oversized navy monstrosity with a faint Arsenal logo she swore she didn’t steal from Leah—clings to her like damp moss. The grey sweatpants are worse. They’re not hers, nor are they yours. They came from the pile of clothes you were supposed to donate three years ago but never did because you thought you might need them someday. This is the day. You resent the foresight.

She’s been coughing sporadically for the past fifteen minutes, which is to say, coughing exactly every 47 seconds. You know because you’ve been counting. Alessia calls it “a tickly throat.” You call it self-inflicted.

“Stop licking your lips. You’ll make them worse,” you say, watching her smear yet another layer of cherry ChapStick over the crime scene that is her mouth.

“I have to,” she whines, drawing out the words like a five-year-old begging for a toy. Her voice is raw, a strange mix of gravel and helium.

“You don’t. You really, really don’t”

She ignores you, opting instead to roll onto her stomach in a manner that could only be described as unnecessarily dramatic. Her head flops onto the throw pillow you bought at a John Lewis clearance sale. The tag is still attached.

“I think I’m dying,” she declares, muffled by the pillow.

“You’re not dying, Less. You’ve got a runny nose and a bad attitude” you deadpan, sitting cross-legged on the rug in front of her, a bowl of soup balanced precariously on your knee. It’s the tin stuff—Heinz, chicken, condensed. She hates it. It’s why you made it.

“It’s the flu,” she says. “I Googled it”

“You can’t even spell ‘flu’ properly when you text”

“That’s because I was using my thumbs.”

“You always use your thumbs.”

“Rude.” She huffs, tugging the blanket tighter around her. It’s your favourite one, the soft grey one you bought when you first moved in together. Now it smells faintly of menthol rub and despair.

“You know, my mum used to make me this lemon and ginger tea with honey when I was sick,” she says suddenly, wistful, like she’s narrating a nature documentary.

“I’m not your mum”

“She also used to rub Vicks on my chest,” she continues, undeterred.

“Still not your mum”

There’s a pause, her blue eyes narrowing at you. “You’re actually a terrible girlfriend”

“Debatable”

She sneezes. A full-body event. You flinch, watching in real-time as her face contorts, her nose scrunching, her eyes shutting like a malfunctioning robot. The sound is seismic. You wonder if the neighbours heard it.

“Bless me,” she says automatically.

“No”

She sniffles pathetically, then gestures weakly towards the coffee table. “Can you hand me a tissue?”

You glance at the tissue box—one metre away from her outstretched hand. “No. Work for it”

Her lips twitch, the faintest flicker of a smile, but it vanishes as she rolls onto her side. “Why are you like this?”

You shrug, finishing the last spoonful of her soup. It’s cold now, congealed in a way that makes you feel vaguely ill. You wonder if this is what marriage will look like—fighting over tissues, stealing each other’s soup, and coexisting in a quiet ballet of passive-aggressive care.

As you scrape the bowl clean, Alessia shifts again, her head now hanging off the side of the sofa like some deranged bat.

“You’re so lucky I love you”

I know,” you reply, leaning over to press a kiss to her forehead. She’s warm—not feverish, just Alessia warm.

For a moment, there’s quiet. She shifts again, her head now resting on the arm of the sofa, her eyes fluttering shut. You stand to pull the blanket up higher around her shoulders and tuck it in gently.

And just before you leave the room, she murmurs, soft and sleepy, “Love you”

You smile to yourself, the words lingering in the air like a balm. “Love you too, Less”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just Friends: Trapped Inside

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

masterlist

Summary: Bucky takes you away.

It’s giving

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Bucky puts the tray of processed mac and cheese before you. You stare at the steam coming off of it. He has a fork in his other hand but hesitates to hand it over. 

“For the food only,” he finally sets it down. 

You pout, “Bucky, I wouldn’t...” you sink your chin down, “you know...” 

“I do,” he agrees with a sigh. He pulls out the chair across from you. “Let’s talk.” 

You sniffle and scratch your nose. You fight back tears as you keep your eyes on the noodles. You slowly take the fork and stir in the cheese. 

“Do you have ketchup?” You ask. 

He sucks in a breath then clucks, “sorry, no.” 

You swallow and shrug, “that’s okay.” 

He shifts and leans on his elbows, clutching one forearm as he crosses his arms. He taps his fingers on the table. He tilts his head, “will you look at me?” 

Your lashes flutter and you obey. The last time you disobeyed him, he put you in a trunk. Your face contorts at that thought but you quickly tamp down the fear. 

“Don’t... I’m not a monster,” he says. 

You can’t say anything. You’re not sure about that anymore. Not sitting here in this strange underground bunker. 

“I’m your friend,” he continues, “is it so bad that I want more? That I like you so much that--” 

“No,” you blubber and quickly swipe away the tears as the spill. “No, if you were my friend you would listen to me.” 

“Doll, where’s the fairness in that when you won’t listen to me?” His voice deepens. 

“I did and I just... that’s not what I want. It’s not what I’m looking for--” 

“I told you the same thing and you made me go on that date with that prissy bitch,” he snaps. You reel back in the chair and drop the fork, stunned by his harsh tone. He cringes and sits up, raising his palms as he calms himself. “Look, I said it over and over. That you were enough. You are enough for me, dreamy. You are everything to me.” 

Your lip trembles and your chest locks up. Breathing hurts. You shrink down and mop your cheeks with your fingers, unable to stop the flow. It’s all broken now. There’s no going back. Why did he have to ruin it? You never meant to put that idea in his head. 

“Dreamy,” he rasps and stands, “don’t cry, please--” 

You flinch and hug yourself with a whimper. He staggers before he can come closer. He shakes his head, “no, no, you’re not going to make me feel that way. I haven’t hurt you.” 

“You have,” you garble. “You... you... grabbed me and put me in the trunk and...” 

“Because you need me. You need—You don’t get it. You don’t get it because you assume the best in everyone and everything. Even me. The world isn’t going to be nice forever.” 

You snivel and try to suck back the deluge. You lower your eyes and steady your breath. You’re shaking as your grief is drowned out by something else. Anger. 

“Like you.” 

“Me?” He hisses and strides around the table. 

You look up at him defiantly and furrow your nose like a rabid dog, “yes, you. You couldn’t just be nice. You couldn’t just take no for an answer.” 

“What about you? It wouldn’t be like this if we didn’t go on that damn date!” 

“No,” you snarl. 

“Dreamy,” he points in your face, “watch it.” 

You snap your mouth shut and wince. You stare at his finger then look him in the face, “or what?” 

“You called Sam behind my back--” 

“No, you threatened me,” you stand up. “What are you going to do now, huh? You already trapped me, so what else is left?” 

“Dreamy, come on,” he grits. 

“Don’t,” you sneer. “You don’t know how the world’s been to me. You don’t know that it’s always been nice. You just assume because you hate everything that everyone should. Well, I’ve seen hate and I don’t like it! Why do you think I’m alone? It’s not because the world is nice?” 

You blink and glare up at him. Beneath all your frustration, embarrassment needles through. You shake your head and back away. He blocks you and grabs your arm. 

“Dreamy, you never said. We’re friends so why--” 

“No, we’re not,” you say. “You just want to use me, like everyone does.” 

“That isn’t what this is.” 

“Leave me alone,” you rip away from him and turn to swipe the tray off the table. “Just go away.”  

You stomp away, bracing for him to grab you. He doesn’t. You cross the room and stop before the wall. There’s nowhere for you to go. You turn and pace one way, then the other. You sense him across the space, watching. 

He gets down to clean up the mess. You ignore him as best you can. You walk in circles, driving yourself mad as reality bubbles up around you. He’s not going to let you go. Even if you hate him. If you could bring yourself to feel that. 

You don’t see him and dare to peek over. He’s gone. You hear movement but don’t know where it’s coming from. Good, he can keep himself busy. 

You go to the door and stare at the barrier. If only you had a metal arm. Your eyes burn again. You drop your head and turn your back to it. You can’t just stare a hole through it. 

You press your back against the metal and slide down to your bottom. You bend your knees to your chest and hug them. You bow your head and let the sobbing shake through you. 

The tears build a wall between you and the world. The sadness aches in your skull and scrapes in your throat. You heave until you’re spent and shivering. 

There’s a click and the flames licks louder. You turn your head to look at the artificial fireplace. “Cold in here,” Bucky says. You close your eyes. “Got the bed made up. You’re tired. You need some good sleep.” 

You don’t answer him as you turn your face down. You stay entirely still. You don’t have the strength to move. You'll sleep right here. You don’t want his guilt. Not when he won’t change what he did. That’s not guilt, that’s greed. 

He nears and you squeeze your eyes tight. He scoops you up and you stay rigid. He carries you through the safe house as you stay closed up inside yourself. He puts on something soft but you don’t let go. You hide in the darkness, wishing that there was light left to see. 

[strwberri-milk]

Hello I hope you're doing well.

I swear your Fics get me through the day❤️

I love the way you write about the boys!

I have a (sort of angsty I think) request:

How do you think each of them will handle/what they're gonna do if they aren't exactly the reader's/MC's type? Like, they're not in a relationship with MC yet, and they're in the stage where they're starting to court MC, and then they find out that MC's type is like their exact opposite, and that's where they sort of notice MC doesn't really consider them as a potential partner because of this

Zayne has never really thought that his feelings for you have been reciprocated. Somehow, it slips his mind to think that you could ever like him, especially since he's seen the types of people you had crushes on growing up. He'd never ask you on a date because of this, happy enough to stay your friend. That's why he was so surprised when you asked him on a date, the happiness in his chest dissipating as he began to realise that you simply didn't seem to have it in you to love him as much as he loves you.

His response is simply to break things off. He tells you not to try and force yourself onto him, that if you don't like him you don't have to pretend you do to fulfill some sort of perceived expectation you think he has. He doesn't really let the conversation progress further than that, moving past it. The two of you end up never really being the same, still able to be friends and hang out together but there's always something just bubbling under the surface.

Xavier doesn't realise what's wrong until he sees the way you look at other people. You do your best not to stray while you're sort of with Xavier but you also haven't had a conversation about exclusivity yet, despite the fact that he is wholly devoted to you. He doesn't entertain the idea of breaking things off, not thinking that things were that bad.

You end up breaking things off, telling him that it's really nothing he's done to you. You just didn't know how to feel, struggling to move into more romantic feelings for him. He takes it surprisingly well you think, acting as though things are totally normal. You don't realise that he's become even quieter than usual, not really taking team missions anymore and going out of his way to avoid you. He doesn't know how to cope with his feelings for you and a desire to make you happy, ending up further into avoidance.

Rafayel is devastated. He can tell immediately that you don't really like him, not in the same way you seem to like other people. A part of him wants to delude himself into thinking that maybe it's just a phase, that you'd eventually fall for him the way that literally everybody else seems to. The other part of him is angry, incredibly so. He doesn't like the idea of you messing with his feelings, being cold to you before you can reject him.

The two of you just end up drifting apart. He doesn't return your calls or messages anymore, internally begging for your attention but also being too irrational to consider that maybe if you two talked something could be figured out. He thought that being by your side would be okay as long as he could touch you but your rejection did nothing but make him spiral.

Sylus doesn't take your denial well. You aren't fully aware of it right away, but he's known from the start that you don't really care for him as much as he does you. He doesn't want to do anything about it, seeing if he could slowly encourage you into accepting him in further. He'd do everything he can to try and convince your relationship to progress further but things just seem to remain stagnant.

You'd have to tell him that things just aren't working out. The two of you struggle to maintain a cordial friendship afterwards. That's not to say you can't depend on him - just the fact that it's hard for him to act as comfortable around him as he used to be. He still aims to keep you safe but you lack that camaraderie that the two of you had.

[sunsburns]

just saw your recent post!

can you write yandere dick grayson? (can be a drabble, heacanon, fic or anything i will eat it up because your writing is mwah) it's okay if you don't want to write it, just wanna say this in case you do :)) thanks for taking the time to read this!?

oh my god. (18+, voyeurism)

yandere!dick grayson has a terrible dread knawing in the pits of his stomach whenever he sees you. it comes from his gut, twisting and turning everything in its wake as it slowly crawls up, up and up into his throat, having it close up the second you look his way.

you send him soft smiles and shy waves. he crumbles into dust every single time.

but you're friends. good friends who met through a mutual friend at a bar. friends who get along well, who get brunch together once a week if life doesn't get in the way.

he's your friend and he looks out for you, keeps tabs on you, and remembers the stories you tell him, all the little details. (the chipped nail polish on your left thumb as you wave your hand around while the two of you were grabbing drinks one night. the slight twitch of your lip when you briefly mention how the guy who used to bother you at work suddenly leaves you alone.) dick likes to remember those things about you.

he likes to walk you home, to hug you before you turn around. he likes the way your body presses against his, how your arms wrap themselves around his shoulders and next, his own holding your waist closely. he thinks you fit against him perfectly.

dick only wants to make sure you get home safely, because who knows what could happen in the streets of gotham if a pretty thing like you walks alone in the dark?

there can be creeps lurking, eyeing you, following you. watching, waiting for that split second you turn around—your dress fluttering in the late breeze, the peek of your ass before you push the skirt down and hurry up the steps to your apartment building, waving at dick before stepping inside.

yeah, it would be terrible.

dick never would have considered himself a pervert, he would never call himself that. oh, but that dread that claws at him whenever you're around has him doubting himself sometimes. because how can he excuse his lingering eyes? how can he excuse the bruises on his knuckles after he beats a guy because you mentioned, barely, how he gave you a bad feeling.

well...

maybe he can brush it off because the next day you're huffing over his wounds, touching him, cleaning the crusted blood off of them, kissing the bruise.

maybe he can brush it off as taking care of you. watching you through your wide-open blinds, he can see you sleeping during those late nights on patrol. he just wants to make sure you're okay.

he just wants to make sure that there's no one hiding in the shadows of your bedroom whenever you step out of the shower, skin still wet when you toss the towel aside.

dick thought you were gorgeous. and you are. of course, other people were going to stare, but during the night, late into the after-hours, when you're alone in your bed, he makes sure that no one else can see you.

that no one else can hear the quiet sighs and moans you make when you touch yourself, how flustered you get, how your skin glows in the faint moonlight of gotham while you quiver under the sheets, lips parted and shaking, brows furrowed deeply.

dick makes mental notes of everything you do, every little detail marked to memory.

and yeah, he feels guilty. this clearly isn't how friends work, and there's probably someone getting mugged down the street that he should be helping, but staying by your window seems like a better way to spend the night.

[cheoridoll]

confessing —

pairing: robby keene x reader

warning: nothing, just something cute.

includes: robby confessing his love.

note: thinking of releasing a robby obscenity, perhaps?

words counted: 1.200

playlist for the fic: spotify | again, excuse the bad english! english isn't my first language :)

At the back of the dojo, Robby paced restlessly, his right hand stroking his chin in a visibly failed attempt to calm his nerves.

He was still wearing a kimono, with messy hair and bandages on his eyebrows. The black highlighted his muscles, which had been worked in the fight, while the yellow of the coat of arms highlighted his hair, which was as shiny as that of a certain princess when she sang.

"Damn, damn, damn" — he repeated to himself as he walked around. Across the mat.

Sam laughed at the whole situation, finding it adorable how his friend acted under the effects of love, even though she was in the same happy situation. She was clinging to Miguel, one of his current best friends, the same one who helped Robby choose the rings he would give to the girl he was going to declare his love to at the end of the day, since Diaz, having been raised only by his mother, had a certain notion of what girls liked.

The girl took classes at night, the only time allowed by the sensei, who said that they would be simple classes, below beginner level, because according to him, "the girls didn't have any aptitude". Pathetic.

The boys never denied having a certain hatred towards Kreese's idiotic and ill-thought-out speeches, always making a point of covering their ears, humming or even running to the bathroom when the oldest began his speeches.

"Relax, you idiot!" — Diaz threw one of the foam bricks in his direction, hitting Robby's already bruised face. "She already said she loved you."

"I know, I... Ah." — he turned his body and threw himself on the floor, looking at a random stain on the ceiling of the dojo. "She said she loved me and I ran away like a coward."

"You're afraid of women." — Sam said ironically, looking at Miguel.

The blond couldn't stop laughing, escaping a little from the nervousness that was consuming him internally, leaving aside the hands that seemed to crawl like slugs.

The clock rang. It was on time. The students began to enter the dojo, while Kreese rolled his eyes in boredom and contempt, leaving the place as fast as a sprinter, making way for the night teachers, Miguel and Robby.

"Okay girls, let's warm up first, walk in circles around the dojo, then run, alternating between slow and fast." — Diaz took the lead, seeing that his friend was busy drying the newbie still confused on how to put on her belt.

Adorable.

The whole class had been hectic, as the girls had blood in their eyes, and as recent professionals, they could say that not even the most experienced boys fought dirty like the girls. In a good way, perhaps.

"Hey!" — Robby ran, almost tripping over his own feet due to fatigue. "I need to, yeah..." — He cleared his throat, looking for the words he would use, the right words so that he wouldn't come out automatically and end up saying more than he should, more or less than he feels.

"Talking to you, seriously, I need to tell you something."

She laughed. Robby's world seemed to fall apart, not in a tragic way as it seemed. She laughed tenderly, gracefully like one of the beautiful flowers in the school garden, the ones Robby steals every morning, hoping to give them to his beloved, always giving up a second before. His world fell apart, fell apart when he realized that no words would be enough to show enough.

A tightness invaded his chest, leaving him desolate for a few seconds, to the point that the girl needed to call him, say his name several times, something that gave him a certain feeling of being in heaven next to an angel, due to such a melody.

"Sweet?" — There. That speech was the one that no longer allowed Robby to hold his tongue, no longer paying attention to automatic, he just spoke and spoke, as if tomorrow no longer existed.

"I love you. And, and it hurts me every single day, the way I ran away like a coward, the regret of not having pulled you by the arms and kissed every little detail that I love so much about you, which perhaps would have been impossible, since I don't just love your exterior, but also your interior, this wonderful woman that you are, your personality, your grace and tenderness, fuck, I don't even like swear words, what did I say? But, hell, you're the woman I want to be with."

The fighter remained silent, leaving the blond distressed, breathing irregularly and sweating visibly. He was as cold as an ice cube. Daniel, who was watching through the window of the small room, could have sworn that his friend was about to faint, Johnny and he were already preparing to run in case something really happened to the boy.

"I hate you, you know?" — Finally something came out of her mouth, surprising him, not in a positive way.

"Did I do it too late? That, I mean, declare myself?"

"Yes." — He sighed, throwing his body against the other's.

Robby was confused again, what was she doing? "But I love you, I love you so much that I can't say exactly what goes on in my chest and my head, they constantly fight with me."

They both laughed, still hugging each other, enjoying the short time they had together.

"You can do what you want."

"What did I want?" — She smiled, amused by the boy's short memory, taking the lead in the action that Robby had been waiting so long to do.

The fighter put her arms around the other's neck, carefully caressing the nape of her current love's neck. The caress soon went from a simple demonstration of what was about to happen, their lips collided, the movements became loose, both guided, a beautiful fit, there were no misunderstandings, or fight for command. As I said, a fit, the perfect fit.

"I love you, Robby."

"I love you too, my princess."

I'm very happy that you enjoyed my previous fanfic! That really makes me very motivated. Oh, and I place orders! :)

[eunimaybe]

— • POINT OF CONTENTION : YOU.

ᝰ.ᐟ : why are you on a coffee date with jay? i thought you guys were the biggest rivals, no?

pairing! politicalsciencemajor!jay x politicalsciencemajor!reader | wc. 0.7k | warnings: attempted humour (failed), prob kinda cringe, inaccurate university stuff (im so sorry i’ve never been in uni) EN-

🖇️ : jay's version!! political science suits him so well, don't you think? also this became a debate fic for some reason… but i hope you guys enjoy ~ jake version is next ^^

political science is such a jay subject

someone says political science i think of jay

you first met jay at a debate club at your university

when you first saw him you thought "hmm, typical political science major with not-so-typical sharp jawline"

tbh you just saw him as competition he better get tf out of your way you're at university to get the best grades and graduate on top like you did for middle school and high school

you hated how jay was always at top

you admired him but hated him at the same time can he please fumble for once?

jay also sees competition when he sees you except the competition is a hot twenty year old girl with silver glasses and an immaculate fashion taste

but competition nonetheless

so one day you guys are having a debate about some political shit

you're even more competitive than usual

political science is YOUR major so YOU have to win

but guess what

your opponent is no another than jay himself

both of you are absolutely determined to win the debate

like bitch there's fire in your eyes you have to beat this man

he’s on the positive side and you’re on the negative so you think you’re completely cooked

but guess what gang

you won.

you just kind of stand there wondering wtf just happened until reality comes crashing down

you just beat jay, and he's the best political science student the school has.

you spent like 922929485 minutes making jay’s life hell for his loss before leaving the room in a very good mood.

and let me tell you

jay is down bad.

he just saw you give the most scrumptious, delicious, yummy argument to counter his equally scrumptious, delicious, yummy argument

nobody has ever beaten him like that before.

EVER.

but you did.

and that's very hot of you.

tbh the debate was a very close call

jay's arguments were sharper than his jawline and that's saying something (moment of appreciation for his 90 degrees jawline)

you're part impressed, part annoyed and part determined.

you NEED to beat him in the next debate as well

you're practically drooling when you think about beating him in the next coming debate as well

perhaps you're also drooling over jay but you'd never admit that

you just gaslight yourself into thinking that it's just begrudged admiration that's making you feel this way

you spend the next week researching the new topic for the debate you're going to have with jay to ensure that you'll be able to counter every single argument he throws at you

you don't know whether you're on the positive side of negative yet BUT THAT DOESN'T MATTER YOU'LL JUST RESEARCH IT ALL

you like to study in that one little spot at the library but turns out jay also conveniently really likes that spot

you wake up ten minutes early everyday to get there before him

you're basically running on caffeine and caffeine only the whole week trying to juggle the preparations for the debate and lectures

somebody keeps leaving you a cup black coffee, your favourite, on your morning lecture tables

you don't know what's going on and why someone's giving you free beverages buttt free coffee, right?

idk if you're just oblivious or stupid or denying the truth

maybe all three because how tf are you not connecting the dots?

the debate.

jay.

the coffee.

when the next debate finally comes, you sit down across jay with your COLOUR ORGANISED flashcards and notes

you don't even have to look at them

jay's also been preparing as well, so it's a very tough debate

both of you shooting one argument after another BUT GUESS WHO WON

you. ACADEMIC QUEEN FRFR

you celebrate by another session of rubbing your victory into jay's too-hot-for-his-own-good face but you're aware that the debate was practically a draw

you both did so good it's actually crazy

the next day, you come to another cup of black coffee sitting at your lecture table except it has a little note saying

"nice debate yesterday. you wanna go out together tonight? - jay"

of course you say yes I MEAN LOOK AT THIS MAN HOLY SHIT

heeseung jake sunghoon sunoo jungwon ni-ki

✉️: @icyy-hoon send me an ask or comment under this post to be added to my taglist <3

[muchosbesitos]

RUNNIN’ OUT OF TIME!— miguel o’hara x fem reader

after countless missed dates and hundreds of text messages gone unanswered, you’d grown okay with the negligence from miguel towards your marriage. only coming to your breaking point after he missed your daughter’s birthday.

contents: angst (lol), mentions of divorce, smut, oral (f receiving), ‘just the tip’, unprotected p in v (wrap it 🫵🏼), doggy, ass spanking (like once), orgasm denial, use of toy (m receiving), switch reader + miguel

author’s note: so i know i said i wasn’t gonna write for him (and the atsv fandom’s pretty dead) but the fic’s my baby so i wanted to repost it 🥹

word count: 11k

There wasn't a big A-Ha! moment when you came to the realization that you loved Miguel O'Hara. The words just slipped out naturally the moment he'd said them to you, like they belonged to him alone. Because in all actuality, they only did belong to him. There was no one else you could see yourself waking up to next in the morning. No one else you wanted to spend time with for the foreseeable future. Maybe it was the memories between the two of you that helped you come to the conclusion that you loved him.

From the time that he carried you back to your shared apartment

Your legs wobbled with every step you took on the concrete, the heels you had on digging into the back of your ankle and the sides of your toes. You didn't have to take the heels off to know that you were mostly likely bleeding. "Wait, Miguel. Just wait up a bit," you were trying to catch up to his long strides, failing miserably with each new sting of pain that shot up your foot. You made a mental note not to wear heels whenever Miguel suggested a 'brisk walk' as a date idea.

He looked back to see you leaning against a pole, taking off your heels for some kind of temporary relief before you continued the rest of the walk. Not that you looked too enthusiastic about that either. Though he couldn't have his pretty girlfriend standing on a dirty sidewalk, could he? With what seemed to be no effort, he took you in his arms and resumed the walk. "How bad's the pain?" He looked down at you once he was sure he wouldn't bump into anyone in a three block radius.

You opened up your mouth to speak, about to tell him that it was bearable enough to the point you could still walk, but he interrupted you by saying, "Don't lie to me because you think you're inconveniencing me. Just tell me the truth." The truth was that you were debating on staying on that sidewalk and calling an Uber at this time of night. Not that he needed to know that, though. "It's not so bad now that you're carrying me," you reluctantly admitted, looking away from him.

If at any point during the night he struggled with the task, he didn't seem to show it. He hadn't even cracked a sweat. Somehow he'd managed to maneuver the front door open, setting you down on the couch with the utmost care necessary. "I'm gonna go get you the first aid kit. Is there something else you need?" You shook your head, laying back onto the couch cushion while you waited for him to come back.

He came back, raising your feet before taking a seat down next to you. He put your feet down on his lap, getting an ointment from the box. You wondered just how many things he had in there for these types of occasions. Throughout the couple months of dating, you'd seen him pull out an ointment for ant bites, scratches, and now blisters. "Try to stay still for me, will you?" He murmured, starting to rub the ointment over the exposed skin. His touch was the gentlest you'd ever felt, barely feeling the subtle brush of his fingers.

"Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana," he hummed as he finished applying the bandages, making sure that they were well wrapped before standing up. You made no attempt to stand up from your spot on the couch just yet, letting your feet recover from wearing those heels for five hours straight. "You need some help getting into the bedroom?" He questioned, scooping you into his arms with that same ease as before when you nodded.

"Thank you."

"Anything for you, my lady."

To the time that he begrudgingly agreed to dance with you in the rain

"Come on, just indulge me a bit," you stood in the middle of the empty road, extending your hand out to him while the rain poured down relentlessly. "I'll indulge you inside where we don't have any chance of catching a cold," he grumbled from his spot on the sidewalk, trying to appear menacing. He really did just look like a sopping wet cat, especially with the way that his brows furrowed slightly. "Mami, let's go. I'll let you dance with me inside, please. Any song you want, too."

You kept your arm extended to him, waiting. You knew that he was bound to fall for your whims any second. He let out a small groan, pushing himself off the sidewalk before walking over to where you were standing. "If you get sick, I won't hesitate to tell you that I told you so," he intertwined his hand with yours, the warmth from his body a nice contrast to the chill air surrounding the two of you. "Do you know how rare it is for Nueva York streets to be this empty?"

Usually, there was at least a mad man that would be running around the streets. Even in these conditions. But the two of you were alone, streetlights illuminating your 'dance floor.' His reluctance seemed to fade away as the two of you swayed on the street, with seemingly no rhythm whatsoever. "If you wanted to sway with me, we could've done that inside," he pointed out, letting out a small snort. "Just because I said I wanted to dance didn't mean that I promised to be good at it."

He guided you through a slow rhythm, his coordination slightly better than what you would've given him credit for. His feet moving to a silent melody in his head. "I was a chambelán at this quince, they had us practice the routine until we ended up crying or collapsing from exhaustion," he spoke up before you had the chance to ask, "But at least it's given me some pretty gnarly dance moves."

"Hey, Miguel?"

"¿Qué paso?"

"Never say 'gnarly' again. You sound older than what you are," you burst out into little giggles at the scoff that left his lips. "I'll let you know that all the scientific studies I've participated on have shown that gnarly's making a comeback."

"Hey, Miguel?" You were debating on if this was the right time to admit what had been threatening to escape your lips for a while now. All you could do was hope that he didn't think that this admission was too soon.

"If you're gonna ask me about the resources that I have for those studies, I don't have them on me now. I'll get them later, though," you could only roll your eyes at his persistence, a laugh bubbling from your chest. Even as the laugh echoed through the empty street, you weren't exactly too concerned with how loud you were being. It wasn't like it compared to the way your heart was beating against your rib cage, your hands starting to clam up in his grasp.

"No, it's not about that. Not that gnarly's making a comeback either way."

"Mark my words. Gnarly. Will. Be. Making. A. Comeback," he accentuated his words carefully, giving you a mock glare before he continued to speak, "But if it's not about that, then what's up?"

The moment of truth. Maybe this was a mistake. You could feel your throat close up, your movements starting to get a little sloppy. Just tell him. His reaction can't be that bad, right? You knew he had no reason to react negatively but every single worst-case scenario started to run through your head relentlessly. "I love you."

"I love you too," while it was the response that you were expecting, it still caught you off-guard. He held your gaze, showing no signs of regret or hesitation as he whispered those words to you. "I don't think that I've loved someone the same way that I love you," and even now, he had to top off your admission. You weren't sure how much time had passed by while the two of you danced away, all that you knew was that the cold tomorrow was probably worth it. If only to say that you got the chance at this experience.

He didn't say anything the next morning when you woke up with a cough, your skin on your nose starting to get raw from how many times you'd gotten up to wipe it. Even though you could tell that he was itching to tell you, the words practically on the top of his tongue if you had to guess. "I got you some chicken soup," he spoke up after you woke up from what seemed to be your 50th nap on the day, the faint aroma from the soup wafting up your stuffy nose.

Definitely worth it.

And even the time that he'd gone up to receive his award with your lipstick all over his face

"I need my good luck kiss, c'mon," he gently pinched your side, a small laugh escaping from your lips as you attempted to push his hand away. "You'll get my lipstick all over you," you pointed out, remembering that the Chanel lipstick you had on was in fact, not transfer-proof. Miguel didn't seem to care too much though, a grin on his face as he leaned in to kiss you. "At least they'll know that my lady loves me."

You'd imprinted the mark of your lips on his cheeks and the tip of his nose, satisfied by the work you'd done when you looked at it. Perhaps you'd gotten a little carried away. Not that he looked bad covered in your red lipstick, by any means. He was no longer Miguel O'Hara, the world-renowned geneticist with more awards under his belt than he could count. He was simply just a love struck idiot with a grin on his face. A love struck idiot for you.

"What time do the awards start again?" You wiped away the lipstick on the side of your mouth and under your lips, grabbing the tube from your purse to fix it. The last thing that the two of you needed was to hear Aaron's snide remarks about how Miguel was incompetent. You went to hand him a clean makeup wipe, but he rejected the advance. "I believe they started about five minutes ago," he responded, pulling his jacket sleeve to look at the watch adorning his wrist.

"Why are you not freaking out about this more?" You questioned him, panic evident on your voice as you pushed everything inside your purse and moved to get out the car. He put his hand on your thigh, gently rubbing it through the material of the silk dress you'd worn for tonight. "Why are you freaking so much about it?" For someone who valued punctuality, he seemed to be oddly calm in this situation. Well, you supposed there was nothing you could do now that you both were late. You took a couple deep breaths, grabbing the stuff you'd missed when you were in a rush.

While you were busy gathering your bearings, he went around the car and opened the door for you. Extending a hand out to you. He grasped your fingers in between his own, helping you with getting out of the car before he even thought of stepping into the building. "They're about to announce your name, O'Hara. Get in there," Delgato hissed as the two of you walked past him, his head craning up to look up at Miguel. "Maybe if you stopped standing in my way, I might be able to."

You could practically see the sheer anger in Delgato's face as he muttered to himself, moving out of the way nonetheless. "Now I know why you end up so stressed," you muttered, making your way down the stairs to take a seat. The room was a bit packed but the two of you managed to find some good seats in the middle. A couple people turned to look at the two of you but their attention was captured once more by the person speaking up on stage. Something about a drug slowing the speed in which some disease grew.

"And now for our next award of the night, please give a hand to Dr. Miguel O'Hara from Alchemax."

The cameras started clicking immediately as soon as he stepped onto the stage, a couple whispers of how unprofessional he was being being shared around in the audience. A couple thank you's were shared, to his lab colleagues and assistants who all simply just nodded upon being acknowledged, before he delved into what the topic of his research had been about. Well, just enough to keep the audience and you entertained. Even though only a couple of the words coming out his mouth actually managed to stick, you couldn't help but listen intently.

To the way that he described his work, with such passion and dedication. The way that he visibly lightened up whenever he got to speak about something that was fascinating to him. Even with all the talk circulating through the audience, you just couldn't help but be so proud of him. His eyes met yours through the sea of people, a smile on his face as he finished with the summary he'd gone over time and time again in front of the bathroom mirror. "Are there any questions?"

He was starting to get agitated, even you could tell from a distance. Well, it's not like you could exactly blame either parties here. The audience wanted to know why he'd shown up with lipstick adorning almost every corner of his face and he wanted to get asked questions about his research. "Any questions that aren't related to my current appearance?" He decided to ask, and it was almost comical how many hands went down. He answered the questions of those who remained, about five. But all he seemed to care about was having your attention in the audience as he spoke.

And while you'd expected him to win tonight, you hadn't expected this. Having him on one knee while you two were supposed to be celebrating his achievement. "So I didn't really prepare a speech before this or anything. But I was just wondering if you'd give me the second win of the night and agree to marry me," As corny as it was, you found yourself nodding to his proposal. "You mean to tell me that worked?" He asked, hesitatingly reaching over to grab your hand to slide the ring on.

"Yes, you idiot. You're acting like I expected anything more from you," you answered, watching as he slid the band on. It was fairly simple, a small stone perched on the middle of it. Your birth stone. "I promise to make you the happiest woman alive," he murmured against your lips, gently tilting your chin so you'd be looking at him. "You already are," it was your turn to be smooth. He let out a small chuckle, his lips gently pressing against yours.

So how did it get to this point?

To the point of having dozens of your calls and messages ignored, and if there was a response, it'd be a simple one-worded response. Enough for you to want to drop the subject all together. Dates between the two of you were a common occurrence, or at least often enough to the point where you didn't have to spend five minutes wondering when the last one had been. Promises left unfulfilled, accumulating only to be left discarded in the dust.

As much as you tried to resist it at first, you started to grow.. okay with it. It felt almost selfish to ask more of him, knowing how much effort he put into making sure that the three of you had a roof over your head. You were able to get a part-time job, giving you more time to spend with Gabriella. A nagging thought kept bugging you though. You married him for the purpose of having him as a husband, not solely a provider. Maybe you weren't as okay with it as you thought.

Your eye twitched when the last balloon was being filled up. How was it that almost every member of his family was capable of showing up and he wasn't? Even some of them came from Mexico for the week. For all the events that he'd missed, you at least would've thought that he would make some attempt to show up for Gabriella's party. You could see her looking around, with the hope of catching a glimpse of her father. It wouldn't hurt to call his work to see what was so important that he couldn't get off, right?

"Alchemax Industries. What can I help you with today?" The receptionist's bored tone came through the other end of the line after spending a couple minutes on hold, your foot irritably tapping against the hardwood floor. All you could do was hope that they wouldn't send you to another line like the previous five times.

"Hi, I'm calling about one of your employees. Miguel O'Hara. I was wondering until what time he was scheduled to work today," you answered quietly, in attempts that no one would overhear. The last thing you needed were any additional comments from his family about how you couldn't keep him around. You listened as the receptionist on the other side started typing out on their computer, silently thanking them.

"¡Te voy agarrar!" You heard yelling behind you, moving to the side before you ended up getting trampled by a bunch of five year olds. "Okay, sorry about taking a while. So about the employee that you're calling, there's a mistake. Miguel hasn't-" The rest of it fell onto deaf ears, your grip on the phone tightening as you struggled to keep up your composure. "Ma'am?" You heard the receptionist ask after a couple moments of silence. The fact that the call had ended hadn't even registered until a while later.

The words kept sounding through your head as the party continued, despite how much you'd tried to drown them out. With water balloon fights in the backyard with some of the kids, karaoke with Gabriella, and the breaking of the piñata. But you couldn't. Your eyes kept darting over to the door, almost expecting to find Miguel walking in at any given moment now. Though you weren't exactly surprised when it remained shut after the first five times that you'd checked. Everyone was having a good time and all you could do was miss him.

Chatter and laughter filled the atmosphere as you made your way through the penthouse, trying to find Gabriella. She'd disappeared right after the cake was cut with the pretense that she needed to use the bathroom about half an hour ago. And while she did spend up to that in the bathroom, it was only really whenever you gave her your cellphone to play around with. And you knew that none of the kids were playing hide and seek. "Gabi!" You called out, searching for her in the guest room.

The last time you'd seen her, she was busy talking with her tías. Nice women, really. Just too involved in finding out whatever chisme they could get out of Gabriella without any regards towards her feelings or the setting they were currently in. You wouldn't be surprised if they brought up the topic of separation to the poor girl. "Hey, have you seen Gabi around?" You didn't even question why Gabriel was exiting one of the rooms with one of your friends, too concerned about Gabi.

Gabriel wiped some spit from the corner of his mouth, shaking his head. "I'll let you know if we find her," he assured you, trying to hide your friend with his body. Like that'd erase the suspicion. Though you guessed it wasn't the right time to go over the whole 'don't hurt them' spiel. You'd do that when you knew your daughter was safe. "Okay, thank you," you told him, going to look for her in the secret spots you knew she liked to hide. In the laundry room. The library. Out in the balcony.

You stepped inside your shared closet with Miguel, not expecting to find her inside. You only really bothered to check as a last resort. But there she was. Her knees pulled up to her chest with her head buried deep in them, sniffling that was almost enough to bring you down to your knees. You walked over to her, sitting down in front of her before gently pulling her hands away from her face.

Only then could you see the extent of her pain. Her cheeks were tear-streaked and her nose was starting to turn pink at the tip from how much she'd been rubbing at it. "What's wrong, mija?" You wiped away the tears that brimmed at the edge of her waterline with your thumb, drying it on your jeans. All you'd been trying to do was make sure she was having a good time at the party and your efforts had all but flopped.

"Why didn't he show up?" With every little crack of her voice, you could feel a piece of your heart shatter. You knew perfectly well who she was referring to her. Just like you'd been waiting for him to arrive, you caught small glimpses of Gabriella searching hopelessly around for her father. "I don't know. I wish I knew what could've been so important but I don't," you whispered, holding her close to your chest. There wasn't any use lying to her, not when you knew she'd look through it.

"Mami, me duele la cabeza," Gabriella spoke up after a couple seconds, looking up at you. You could only guess. From what you could gather, you figured that she must've been crying at least for the previous half hour. "I can't give you any pills.. but I'll read you a story once you lay down for bed," you told her, helping her stand up from her spot on the floor. Gabriella left the closet to go brush her teeth and get ready for bed, leaving you in the deafening silence of the closet.

"Party's over," you announced on your way downstairs, already imagining the flurry of complaints that would come your way. You knew that if it was up to everyone else, they would find a way to keep the party going until two in the morning. After thanking everyone for coming and sending them home with leftovers that would last them through the weekend, you cleaned up the house a bit. Picking up a couple candy wrappers from the floor and sweeping off the multitude of streamers on the floor.

You'd spent the next hour tidying up the house, cleaning up juice stains from your once pristine white floors. Well, at least Gabriella managed to have a good time. Mostly. You'd almost expected her to fall asleep by the time you went back upstairs, but you saw her peering over at you when you opened up the door. "Alright, what story did you want me to read?" You questioned, stepping over to the library she had in the corner of her room. Naming off the first suggestions that appeared in your field of vision. "Can we do The Little Prince?"

Gabriella scooted over on the bed to let you sit down next to her, listening intently as you begin to read the story. Almost like she hadn't been listening to this story for the previous two weeks. At some point, she'd learned some of the passages from memory and began to recite them from the top of her head. You finished the book, half expecting her to still be awake and wanting another book. But no. Her eyes were shut, her arms tightly wrapped around one of her plushies while her breathing slowed down.

"Que sueñes con los angelitos," you whispered, pushing a couple loose strands of her hair back before kissing her forehead. She stirred in her sleep, her grip on the blankets tightening slightly. You moved when she finally managed to still, putting the book back on the shelf where it belonged. Prepping it for tomorrow. You made your way out the room, making sure to leave her night lamp on before shutting the door behind you. At least her headache hadn't bothered her too badly.

You poured yourself a glass of wine from a trip you'd taken with Miguel to Italy, swirling the burgundy liquid around. Much how your own thoughts were currently swirling around without any clear direction. Not your usual drink of choice, you had to admit. But it was a nice distraction. The subtle glow from the moonlight illuminated the otherwise empty room, the quietness almost too much to bear. There was nothing to distract you from the thoughts running rampant inside your head, each one of them leading to what seemed to be the same conclusion.

A divorce.

Even thinking about it felt wrong, though. You and Miguel made a pact upon getting married—stating that no matter how mad the two of you got at one another, that word would never be mentioned. Not even as a joke. But you supposed that was made during a different time. A time where Miguel wouldn't put his family on the back burner simply because of work affairs. A time where you didn't have to come up with excuses for his behavior.

It wasn't just for yourself that you were considering this solution. But also for Gabriella. His absence was starting to affect her in more ways than you could possibly fathom. Not just today for her birthday, but also throughout the last couple months. You could see the different attempts that Gabriella had made to talk to her dad, most of them ending up unsuccessful. Only leaving her more and more confused. Leaving her wondering what she'd done wrong.

"¡Mami!" Gabriella called out from the other room while you were busy finishing up dinner in the kitchen, setting a separate plate for Miguel to put in the microwave. A nudging feeling that you would find the plate the same way you'd left it running through your head. You walked over to Gabi, spotting her in the kitchen table with a coloring book set in front of her. You were almost impressed by how precise she was at such a young age.

She'd managed to color in the photos without going through the lines once. She was always a bit of a perfectionist though, much like her father. It felt like staring at a reflection of a mini Miguel at times. If only he would try to maintain that relationship you knew Gabriella needed in her life.

"Yeah, what's up?" You wiped your hands on a napkin before taking a seat next to her. Looking over at the design on her book, you decided to commit the sight to memory. It wouldn't hurt to search it up later and use it as a form of gift inspiration for her birthday party coming up. "There's this parent career day tomorrow and I was hoping that you could come."

You wouldn't have expected her to ask you for help first. Given that your job mostly consisted of logistics and paperwork most of the day. The last interesting thing that had happened in the office was an affair between one of the CEO's and an intern. "You sure you don't want your dad to go instead?" Even if it wasn't by much, you figured that genetics would be more interesting than how graph analysis works. Gabriella played with her pens, avoiding looking at you.

"What's the point of asking if he's not gonna show up?" She spoke up after a couple moments, a small sigh escaping from your lips. You couldn't lie to her any better than you could lie to yourself, you knew that much. But you at least had to try. If only to stop that frown from forming on her face. "How about I present what your dad does for work? So it's almost like he's there," Except he wouldn't be. You figured it was a good enough compromise for her though. "But why can't he show up? Do we not matter to him anymore?"

The same question that clouded your thoughts while you laid in bed, arms wrapped around one of his pillows so it wouldn't feel so empty. So you wouldn't be reminded that the stupid California King was too big just for you to lay on it. "We do matter, he's just busy with work. It's how we're able to live the way we do," you answered, trying to keep your answer simple without dumbing it down. She was smart enough to understand. Smarter than you sometimes gave her credit for. "Okay. Your option sounds good."

You'd stayed up well past midnight that night, reading through a couple of Miguel's research papers in some attempt to figure out what you needed to describe. So far, all you had was talking about flasks and the basics of chemistry that you'd learned. Adorning a poster board with glitter also proved to be more work than you would've imagined, the clean-up taking longer than you would've expected. At least it didn't look too bad. Well, just enough to impress a classroom full of ten year olds.

Just the fact that Gabriella wasn't even making the effort anymore was enough to reassure the decision that maybe a divorce was necessary. Even if the thought was still painful to think about. At some level, you still loved Miguel just as much as the first day that you'd uttered those words to him. Just as much as the day you showed up on the aisle to officially intertwine your life with his. But you knew that neither you or Gabriella could be content just expecting the minimum from him.

The front door swung open, a loud groan escaping from Miguel's lips as he stepped into the threshold. His work shoes squeaked against the floors you'd just cleaned as he trudged over to the living room. "Hey, where's Gabi?" His lips barely grazed your cheek when he bent down to greet you, his voice riddled with exhaustion. He took a seat on the couch, his back slouched against the cushions. "She's asleep. Given that it's currently midnight."

You heard shuffling from his side, the bright phone screen illuminating his face. From this angle, you could see the dark circles underneath his eyes. It almost made you regret wanting to even bring this topic up. He squinted, tapping at the screen with his pointer finger to turn down the brightness. "Ah shock, you're right. I missed her birthday," Normally you would've been okay with the fact that he'd even bothered to remember the event he'd missed.

"Where were you?" You questioned, reaching over to turn on the lamp. You felt like one of those detectives in the old movies you'd watched with Miguel, the light dim enough to create an ominous shadow over yourself. "What do you mean? I was at work all day," he responded, rubbing a hand through his face. He was committed to making the lie work, you had to give him that. He even had the Alchemax lab coat and badge on. And under normal circumstances, you might've just let that slide. Like all the other previous instances.

You calmly took a sip from your drink, letting the suspense marinate for just a little while longer. "I called Alchemax. It's funny that you say that, given that their system shows that you quit months ago. So, I'll give you one more chance to tell me the truth," you told him, his eyes widening almost comedically. The silence was enough of a tell for you to realize that you had him cornered now. He managed to meet your gaze after a couple seconds, speaking almost begrudgingly, "You called my job?"

You gave him a dirty look, almost surprised that it was what he was choosing to focus on. "Right, right. Not the point," he muttered, rubbing his temples. The silence was almost deafening, the two of you trying to keep things quiet for the sake of keeping some normalcy in front of Gabriella. "She kept asking about you, you know?" You started off, setting the wine glass with a thump before speaking again, "I kept lying to her. Telling her that something at work was more important than you being able to show up to her party."

"I want a divorce." It was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. His mouth opened and closed like a fish, and you could almost see the different wheels in his head work. The wedding ring around your finger suddenly felt too heavy, the life that the two of you built together threatening to crash down in a mere matter of seconds just by that single sentence. "The least that you could do now is tell me the truth. Because what I'm imagining right now is that you have some kind of secret family on the down low."

In your defense, what more were you supposed to think? Especially when he's made no effort to tell you anything up to this point? You picked up the wine glass, glancing over at him to see what he'd do now. You'd be lying if you said that you fully expected him to start telling you the truth. But you hoped he did. If only to make you reconsider the idea of getting a divorce. If only to let you sleep better at night.

"Okay. Fine, I'll tell you. Just please.. consider the divorce one more time. Please. And believe me when I say there is no other family," he stood up from his spot, his hands clasped together as he stood in front of you. This was starting to sound dangerously similar to the number of excuses that he'd given you before but you decided on giving him the benefit of the doubt. You stayed silent and he took that as a cue to continue, "I haven't been around because... I'm Spider-Man."

The wine in your mouth poured down your nose, the liquid have gone down the wrong pipe. You coughed, attempting to clear your throat as the words settled in. There was no way that he was being serious. But the way that he was looking at you made it seem like he was. "And I know that it doesn't justify putting the two of you on the back burner but there's a lot of crime in Nueva York and throughout the universes in case you haven't realized." Universes?

Now you were certain he'd either lost it or he was just pulling excuses out of his ass. Probably a combination of both if you had to guess. "You're kidding," you deadpanned, waiting for some kind of indication that this was all just a joke. He flicked his wrist, a string of what seemed to be a web sticking onto the lamp next to you. You reached over, tentatively scooping the substance onto your pointer finger to examine what it was. It was indeed.. a web. You were starting to wonder if you'd drunk too much wine.

Nope. Still half a glass left. You punched the side of your arm, waiting for some kind of indication that you were dreaming. All you received was a sharp shot of pain though. Now all you had left to do was actually acknowledge the situation. Accept the fact that your husband was the self-proclaimed vigilante of Nueva York.

"Why didn't you tell me in the first place?" You managed to ask after the initial shock had died down, clearing your throat. He shifted his feet awkwardly, sitting down next to you once more. "Because I've seen too many instances of this play out. I didn't want any danger to come to you after you found out," he responded, his hands reaching out to hold your own. "But please, trust me. I only have eyes for you. Every single of my absences has been for the better of Nueva York."

It all started to make sense, though. The amount of files scattered on his desk, information on previous villains. A couple comic books from the previous Spider-Man on his bedside table. The awkward disappearances when the two of you were out on the street.

"Please say something," he urged after a couple seconds of your silence, his calloused thumb rubbing small circles on your hand. What could you really say, though? It felt wrong to still be pissed off at him while he went off to save the city, and yet.. you still couldn't find it in yourself to forgive him just yet. "I know that the city of Nueva York needs you. But so does Gabriella. She doesn't deserve to be questioning what she's doing wrong as a child."

He was about to speak up but you quickly interrupted him, "She thinks she's not doing enough. That all those trophies in her room aren't enough for you to be proud of her. I beg of you to find some kind of balance before you end up losing the both of us for good." With that, you downed the rest of your wine before retreating to the kitchen to clean up the glass. You expected him to come back to bed, though you hadn't heard him come in after half an hour of tossing and turning. All you heard was the guest room door being opened.

You were awoken to the sweet scent of buttermilk, all kinds of different alarms going off in your head. The thought of Gabriella burning herself in the kitchen was starting to imprint itself in your brain. It certainly wasn't Miguel. Despite how groggy you were, you quickly rubbed your eyes and made your way over to the kitchen. Niña Bonita welcomed you as soon as you stepped inside, noticing Miguel stirring some batter with Gabriella by his side. At least she wasn't too close to the stove.

"Mi niña bonita, my dulce princesa," he hummed along to the song, gently ruffling Gabriella's hair. You stood at the doorway in silence, a small smile making itself known on your face despite how mad you were at Miguel. Gabriella attempted to push off his hands, but even she couldn't hide how much she was enjoying this time with him. "Mami, you finally got up!" Gabriella called you over once she noticed you.

"When'd you take the time to learn how to make these?" Usually it was you that took care of the cooking. "I'm not completely useless in the kitchen, I'll have you know," Miguel retorted, flipping a pancake with practiced ease. Though you knew better. You could see a couple pancake pieces sticking up to the ceiling. Just how long had he been up to try to perfect this skill for Gabriella? "Take a seat, they'll almost be done. The sous chef's been doing an excellent job helping."

"Papi promised we'd go to the aquarium today, to make up for missing my birthday," Gabriella announced as you were in the middle of pouring syrup onto your pancakes. You had to forcibly stop yourself from reacting, trying to ensure that you wouldn't be having syrup with a side of pancakes. "You sure you can handle it?" You gritted under your teeth when Gabriella went to retrieve her tablet in the living room. "I wouldn't have suggested it if I couldn't. Haven't given you any reason to but have some faith in me."

You raised your brows, waiting for him to realize just how contradictory that statement was. Not that it ever came, though. "Can I stay the night over at my friend's house?" Gabriella piped once she finished her pancakes, all too eager to grab your plate along with Miguel's. You glanced over at Miguel, seeing the resistance on his expression. "Which friend is it?" You questioned, trying to rack your brain if it was something that she mentioned before. "The one from soccer practice, Candice."

After making some calls to Candice's mom to make sure that sleepover was actually something that she was aware of, you gave Gabriella the go-ahead. She practically rushed into her bedroom after the three of you had finished with breakfast, picking out a pair of pajamas and clothes before stuffing them into her backpack. Triple checking it so there would be no reason for room to doubt her preparation. While she was in the shower, you snuck in her stuffed animal. Just as a safety precaution.

The trip to the aquarium was honestly more trouble than it was worth, in your opinion. Parking was nearly impossible, the vein on Miguel's forehead threatening to pop with each turn that he made around the lot. Waiting patiently for whatever spot would open up for half an hour before realizing that no one was leaving. Even Gabriella had started to get fidgety in the back seat, asking Miguel if you all were there yet over and over again. "Just get the valet, I'm sure it won't be that expensive," you suggested, hoping that it wouldn't add on to the frustration Miguel was feeling.

"Wait, hold on," like a beacon of hope, one of the spots opened up just as soon as you said that. Before he had the chance to park the car though, one of the newly arriving guests immediately seized the opportunity and took it before he had the chance. With one slam to the steering wheel, he relented and went over to get in line for the valet parking. "Here, you can watch a documentary on turtles," you pulled it up on your phone before leaving, not that you thought you would have to use it. And just like that, Gabriella immersed herself on what was on the screen.

Seeing the price of valet parking almost made you want to regret ever suggesting at all. Seriously, who charged $50 just for a parking spot? Gabriella let her grip on your phone slip when she was handing it to you, your brows furrowing as you already started to imagine the crack on screen just from the sound it made hitting the concrete. You quickly picked up, pocketing it up before Gabriella started to feel guilty. "Don't worry about it. I was due for a new one anyways," you assured her, holding to her hand while Miguel held her other one.

The three of you were visibly annoyed as soon as you stepped foot into the aquarium, the excitement towards this trip dying down with every single thing that kept going wrong. Not only had it taken half an hour and $50 to even enter, but now, none of the shows were even available? Even the dolphins had gone down with some kind of fish flu. Why it was even so full was beyond you. "Come on, we'll still have a good time," Miguel sounded like he was trying to collectively convince all three of you, offering Gabriella a piggy back ride as compensation.

Gabriella didn't seem to mind it too much, her head raised like she was royalty while perched on Miguel's shoulders. His grip on her legs was tight, assuring she wouldn't fall down. Given that she had a tendency to test herself and lean as forward as she could when one of the fish approached. You'd never seen her this excited about a trip before. You quickly realized the reason for her excitement. Miguel kept giving her subtle facts about each of the different species that you approached, whether from his own brain or the information board put up.

And she held on to every single word that escaped from his mouth, listening to him like he was the most interesting man in the world.

After seeing how full the gift shop was at the end of the tour, you decided to wait outside with a couple other guests. All you could hope was that Miguel would talk to her while the two of them were inside, give her some of that connection that she longed for. She came back bouncing back with a shark plushie— one identical to the one Miguel had gotten you on a prior date. Just the sight make your resolve melt a bit. You glanced over at Miguel, seeing him give you a shrug. "It's what the princess wanted."

Exiting the aquarium was almost as troublesome as entering, a line of cars parked at the exit. Gabriella didn't seem to mind it as much, plotting a story line with her as a mermaid with the shark. It'd been a while since you got the chance to see her be so animated. Throughout the car ride, she couldn't stop talking about how the trip at the aquarium and explaining the exhibits to you in explicit detail. Well, that was until you got to Candice's house. She was quick to leave as soon as she saw her friend waiting outside, her two feet almost too slow to match her energy.

The tension in the air was thick from the moment Gabriella had departed the car but it was much more obvious now that the two of you were stuck in a room together. After making a beeline to go change into a pair of shorts and a shirt—calling it a night, you were surprised to find Miguel still laying on the bed. Idly tapping at his phone with one finger, the faint sound of a Candy Crush! reaching your ears. You figured that he would've left to go monitor the city after spending the day with Gabriella. Maybe he was determined to make it work this time around.

No.

You couldn't start thinking that way just because he bothered to stick around for one evening.

He settled in between your legs, continuing to tap away at the screen. As much as you wanted to protest, you decided not to. From this angle, you could see him struggling with solving level 3976. How much time had he seriously dedicated to this game? Time that he hadn't spent dedicating towards you. Great. Just the thought was enough to piss you off once more. You grabbed your own phone from the bed stand, forcing yourself not to roll your eyes every time one of those stupid family channels showed up. If you had to bet, you'd guess their marriage wasn't that good either.

Miguel looked up at you from his spot in between your legs, with furrowed brows and brown irises practically boring into you. He looked so needy.. so desperate. "Please mamita, I need you. I need to touch you again," he pleaded, his lips leaving a searing sensation as he kissed up your leg. It'd been too long since you'd received any form of intimacy from anything other than your fingers and your vibrator. And while they did get the job done, they didn't exactly offer this kind of foreplay.

He moved the flimsy material of your pajama shorts to the side, kissing the innermost part of your thighs. Your fingers tugged at the strands, trying to pull him to your cunt. With every single teasing breath against the thin material, you could feel yourself clenching around nothing and dripping onto your panties. "Not yet," and the bastard had the nerve to laugh. It was the last sound you heard before you felt a small sting on your thigh, your eyes almost popping out of your skull. When he said he was Spider-Man, you'd been expecting the whole swinging around.

What you hadn't been expecting, however, was a pair of fangs that were almost the same length as your head. Just how far did the extent of these spider powers go? You were thinking of every possibility, unaware that you'd even spaced out. He regained your attention by pulling the waistband of your shorts, the elastic snapping against your skin. "Only thing you have to be focused is on me," he spoke up before you had the chance to say anything, moving to take off your shorts off. You raised your hips, your panties and shorts falling off in one swift motion.

He'd been nothing but desperate earlier, but his touch almost seemed reverent this time around. Kissing up your legs as if you were something to worship, drinking up your gasps as if they were the finest tunes he'd ever listened to. His hands pried your thighs open, leaving you completely exposed to him. Only before he got the chance to lean in was that you got the chance to see just how desperate for this he truly was. His pointer finger ran through your folds, collecting whatever slick had started to accumulate.

"You say you want a divorce but this pretty cunt's telling me a different thing," almost like he was timing it—which he was, he pulled his fingers out of your cunt. A loud squelch echoed through the otherwise silent room, a small groan escaping from your lips. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction of letting him hear your moans. "Let me hear you mamita. Let me hear good I'm making you feel," he prodded, his fingers moving in a scissoring motions. You bit on your bottom lip, a muffled moan escaping your lips.

"Eso, no me nieges. Te lo ruego."

Miguel pulled his fingers out of your cunt, his eyes boring into yours as he licked the glistening slick off them. Practically feining to get every single drop. He leaned in to be face-level with your cunt, licking a stripe up your folds before parting them apart with his tongue. "Oh fuck," the moan slipped out of your lips before you had a chance to think better of it, the small chuckle he let out against your cunt vibrating throughout your body. His head moved from side to side, practically engulfing himself in between your legs with his nose pressing against your clit.

Your legs trembled in his grasp, struggling to keep them open when all you wanted to do was close them around his head. You wanted him to stop. You wanted him to keep going. The constant whiplash was enough to make you into a whining mess underneath him, despite your better judgement. "Please," you didn't even make sense to yourself. You weren't exactly sure what it is that you were even begging for. "Shh, it's okay. I'll give you what you need," and yet, he seemed to understand your pleas perfectly.

His mouth closed around your clit, his eyes boring into yours as he sucked on the neglected nub. Your nails dug into his scalp, a groan escaping from his lips. Like a domino effect, that small groan vibrated against your clit which caused you to only tighten your grip on his hair. You bucked your hips to meet his lips, his grip on your legs tightening. "I got you mamita, just let me take my time pleasing you," he murmured, kissing a trail from your inner thigh to your folds once more. His tongue fell flat, licking a stripe up your glistening folds.

The tip of his tongue prodded at your entrance before the wet muscle pushed inside, your juices leaking down to his mouth almost instantaneously. If anything, he didn't seem to mind it. He almost looked like he was in complete bliss. Miguel made no attempt to continue the ploy he'd started with the eye contact earlier, his eyes shut as he got lost in the taste of your essence. "Oh, Mig, Mig, Mig-" Broken fragments of his name escaped from your lips as his pointer finger rubbed small circles on your clit, the dual stimulation enough to have your toes curling.

You reached down to play with your erect nipples, rolling them in between your fingers. The orgasm you were chasing was so close, so attainable. "Gonna cum, gonna cum," every single word from your vocabulary seemed limited. All you could do was repeat yourself and hope that he would get the picture. "That's it, you got it," he coaxed you into an orgasm, your toes curling and your grip on his hair tightening. If anything, he seemed to revel in how you were gripping him.

Every word at the tip of your tongue failed you as you came with a shudder, your release coating his mouth and chin in the process. Miguel eagerly took every drop that you had to give, even going back into your cunt to get anything that he might've missed. You practically had to push him off before he started to eat you out again. While you knew that he could handle it, you weren't too sure that you could. You let your back hit the mattress, basking in the afterglow from your orgasm.

Before Miguel had the chance to finish with unbuttoning his pants, you took the chance to clear your throat. His hands halted their movements, his eyes shooting up to you like a deer caught in headlights. "With the way you've been acting, do you seriously think you've earned the right to fuck me?" You questioned, seeing his expression visibly deflate as he removed his hands from the buttons. "Please. I'll do anything, mi vida. Es tortura tenerte tan cerca y no poder tocarte," it was a rare sight to see.

Miguel prided himself in being above begging. And yet, here he was.

"Go on and lay on the bed for me," your tone offered no room for protests, his steps quick as he went to lay down on the bed. You trailed your hand from his knee to his crotch, cupping his heavy balls in your palm. "Look at me and tell me you have the right to fuck me, if that's the case," you spoke up, looking over at him as your hand switched from one ball to the other. Giving each the same amount of attention. You watched as he opened his mouth, closed it back up again, and repeated the process until he eventually gave up.

"I can't," he huffed out, almost in a whisper. You reached over in your bedside table, pulling out your trusty vibrator. "And why's that?" You asked him, your touch featherlight when you rubbed the vibrator against the outline of his cock. Just enough to give him a taste of what he could have. "Because I don't deserve to fuck you. I know. But I'm still selfish," he admitted after a while, his words barely above a whisper. Good enough of an answer for now.

A shaky groan escaped from his lips when you turned the vibrator on, the lowest intensity almost too painful to bear. Shudders ran across his body as you rubbed the vibrator on the tip of his cock, sliding it down to his frenulum. "Ngh, don't stop," his voice was practically a whimper by this point, his hips bucking to meet your touch. Not that you allowed for that continue for long though. You pushed your thighs down with one hand, his muscles flexing underneath your grasp.

You moved the vibrator to rest against the tip of his cock, precum leaking onto the tip of it. You tentatively brought it up to your lips, swirling your tongue around it as the familiar salty taste overwhelmed your senses. His eyes were locked on yours, his hips bucking up in some miserable attempt to gain some friction. You set the vibrator back on the tip of his cock, a hiss escaping from his lips. "Turn it up."

"What's the magic word?" You shifted to grab the remote, lowering the intensity despite the groans that escaped from his lips. He looked like he was on the verge of tears, if you had to be honest. Well, the closest he could get to that point anyways. "Pl.." he couldn't finish his sentence, a choked groan escaping from his lips. He looked over at you, like he was expecting you to understand. And while you did, you also wanted him to use his words. Hear how pretty he sounded begging.

"P-Ple-nghh."

“Plea-shockk."

"P-Ay mierda."

It was a cruel game you were playing, you were aware. You kept the vibrator at the same speed, raising a brow as you looked at him. "Sounds like you don't really want it," you taunted, deciding to put the vibrator to the highest level possible. Only for a fraction of a second, though. Just as quickly as relief had come for him, it was gone. He let out a groan, trying to will the word to slip out of his mouth. Just one word.

"Please," it seemed like your little show of motivation had finally paid off. You turned the intensity of the vibrator gradually this time around, allowing him to get used to the sensation. "See what you get when you ask nicely," you decided to taunt him even further despite knowing better. You knew your cunt would be paying the consequences for your relentless teasing later in the night. Not like the thought mattered now, though. Not when you had Miguel begging and at the verge of tears just for your touch.

His balls felt heavy to the touch, almost like he was at the point of cumming. You gave both of them equal attention, rolling them in your hand. Miguel's eyes could only clamp shut, his mouth parted. "Please let me cum, so close," he begged so nicely, a couple drops of precum leaking down to your thigh. You could always be generous and let him cum. Then again, the idea of prolonging his orgasm was just too enticing to resist. Each buck of his hips became more erratic, more needy. Before he got to that point of climax, you pulled the vibrator away from his cock.

"I asked nicely," he pointed out, his voice cracking slightly. He scrambled to sit up, almost searching your expression to see if he'd done something wrong. "I'm aware," you simply responded, wiping your vibrator before placing it on the nightstand to clean it throughly later. "I just didn't feel like letting you," you added, waiting to see if he'd offer more resistance. You could see he wanted to say something, but he was holding himself from saying anything. Smart man.

Miguel set a pillow underneath your stomach, your back set in a mean arch as you laid on it. He stepped behind you, his thumb rubbing against your folds before he dipped it inside. Your wetness immediately engulfed his finger, your walls stretching out as he pushed it deeper inside. "What happened to the attitude you had earlier, hm?" He used the same taunting tone that you had, mocking you. A protest died in your throat as the tip of his cock went inside your folds, your head craning back to look at him.

"Just the t-"

"Yes, yes, just the tip. I promise," he cut you off before you had the chance to finish speaking, rolling his eyes. You were already testing his patience by allowing just the tip. He retracted, the tip of his cock an angry shade of red as precum dripped down his shaft. Your walls clenched and unclenched rhythmically, your own body betraying your resolve. He pushed the tip inside once more, keeping it inside your wet cunt. "Please, let me fuck you properly. You're punishing both of us, not just me."

And here you would've figured that his negotiations were reserved just for the state of Nueva York. You shook your head, determined to see this through. "If it's not enough for you, we can just stop here," And how you wished your voice would've come out with more bite. Now you sounded just as needy as he did. Maybe even more. "No, no, it's fine," he was quick to respond, retracting. It was almost painful how slow he was going, almost making you want to give up on this whole argument. Getting stubborn wasn't getting you anywhere.

"Please let me fuck you properly," he pleaded after a couple thrusts, his hands on your hips. Well. At least you didn't have to give in first. "Fine," you tried to sound annoyed, though you weren't convincing him any better than you were yourself. A strangled gasp left your mouth as he bottomed out, your cunt stretched out to the brim. Your walls clenched against his shaft rhythmically, trying to get used to the intrusion. Your hands reached over for the pillow above you, your grip on it tightening as he pulled out.

His skin slapped against your own with each thrust that he made, his grip on your hips tightening. "Don't stop, Mig! So, so good," he'd turned you into a babbling mess within a matter of seconds. "Wasn't planning on it," he responded quickly, each word punctuated with a harsh thrust. You craned your head to look at him, the sight having a new wave of arousal coat his cock. His head was lolled back, his face contorted into one of pure pleasure. You rocked your hips to match his rhythm to the best of his ability, your ass smacking against his hips with every movement.

"Oh shock, slow down," he was mesmerized by the sight of your ass rippling with each move that you made, one of his hands reaching down to cup the flesh. "Not gonna last long if you keep at it," he added, raising his hand before giving your ass a slap. The mixture of pain and pleasure mixed together, your own release starting to approach. "Fill me up, Mig!" You could only whine that out, a groan escaping from his lips at your words. The hand on your ass moved down to your clit, his thumb rubbing on the nub in circles. Fervent circles to match the pace of his sloppy thrusts.

You clamped tightly around his cock, your arousal coming out of you in waves. Your stomach hit the pillow underneath you, your body giving out on you. As soon as you clamped around him, Miguel knew his own orgasm wasn't too far off. With one final thrust, he shot his cum up your cunt. Filling you up like you'd asked. He pulled his flaccid cock out of you a couple moments later, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. His fingers pushed back the cum threatening to drip down before he went over to get a wet towel to clean you up.

"It shouldn't take me threatening to divorce you for you to get your act together," you spoke up once you managed to catch your breath, wiping the sweat off your forehead. Not exactly the topic that you would've imagined talking about after sex. But you figured it was important for him to know that just a good lay wouldn't be enough to resolve this issue. He swiped his arm over his forehead, wiping away at nonexistent sweat beads. Something to do while he tried to figure out what to say.

"I know. And I'm sorry that it ever got to this point, I promise that I'll spend the rest of my life trying to prove to you how worthy I am to be next to you," he spoke up after a few moments, turning to face you. His hands itched to be wrapped around you, for some semblance of that intimacy that he'd neglected for so long. But he didn't make any effort to touch you. He knew it'd take a while for you to get to that point. The conflicted expression on your face was enough to tell him that you didn't believe him.

And it's not like you were looking forward to starting any issues between the two of you. But with the amount of empty promises and "I'm sorry's", you figured that you'd earned the right to doubt him. You got up, putting up your pajamas in an attempt to divert the conversation. You didn't want to voice that you were worried about him failing to fulfill his promise. "I know you don't believe me, but I promise I'll do my best to prove it to you," he whispered, pulling the blanket over the two of you before exhaustion overtook your body.

Instead of the usual emptiness that you'd grown used to waking up to, you found Miguel laying by your side with his arms tightly wrapped around your body. Like he didn't want to let you go. "I can feel you staring," he mumbled, half asleep as he begun to stir. He kept one arm wrapped around you, bringing the other hand up to his face to rub his eyes. "Just surprised you're not at work yet," you responded, pushing a couple stray hairs away from his forehead. "Well, I'm trying to prioritize my family a bit more."

His promises didn't feel as empty as the ones he'd spoken about before. He seemed determined to bring them into fruition this time around. Or at least you hoped that he would. For you and Gabriella. "I know it doesn't amount to much with how many times I've said it, but I really am sorry for neglecting you for so long. I got so carried away into maintaining the safety of Nueva York that I forgot to maintain my own marriage."

"I know you can't be everywhere at once. Me and Gabriella are aware you have responsibilities but still.. I don't want to have to feel like I'm being selfish for asking for some time with my husband," you spoke up after a couple seconds, looking over at him. Neither of you made any attempt to leave your bed just yet, too engulfed in the temporary state of bliss. "And you won't have to feel that way anymore, I promise."

Maybe things would work out for the better this time around.

[legs-like-jelly]

Howdy ho! I love you're fanfics and was wondering if maybe you could do a Lee Starscream? The ler can be your choice

I just know Starscream needs to get wrecked, he's such a goober X3

thanks to u and these two anons(one of which i know who it is-) i can write this fic!! thanks so much!!

How Childish!

Lee: Starscream

Ler: Bumblebee

(please note that this fic takes place during SEASON 3 of Earthspark and will contain minor spoilers!)

It was another day at the Autobot Base. Starscream found himself holed up yet again in that stupid prison cell. And he hated being holed up. The seeker's wings twitched with annoyance, which caught the attention of the mech that was so graciously assigned to keep him in check.

Bumblebee.

"You know, you'd be able to fly if you didn't spend so much of your life terrorizing innocent people," The scout spoke. He stood outside of the cage, scrolling through a datapad.

"Yes because trapping mechs that are meant to fly is totally a moral high ground!" Starscream scoffed, wings twitching with increasing irritation.

Bumblebee sighed and put a servo on his hip. "What, do you want me to take you on a walk?"

"I am not a dog!" The seeker hissed while Bumblebee put in a pin to unlock the door.

"Come on, I know that look. You never complain about wanting to go outside as much as you have today," The scout pinched his wing, trying to drag Starscream along.

"eeEEEK!!" The seeker squealed, startling the other mech.

"What was that?!?!" Bumblebee exclaimed. "Nearly blew out my audials."

Starscream was trying his best not to squirm, to no avail. His servos flew to his intake, trying to suppress his giggles. Bumblebee's optics widened as he let go.

"Don't tell me...you're TICKLISH??!" The scout yelled, making the other mech freeze up.

"I-i'm not! That would be childish," The other mech spoke before dissolving into giggles from another pinch at his wing.

"You are!" Bumblebee gasped. Starscream was quiet for a while before tugging his wing away and bolting out the open door.

"On no you don't!" Bee yelled before transforming and zooming down the hall after him. Starscream let out a yelp before picking up the pace. The seeker cut a corner, sprinting down the next hall towards Wheeljack's lab.

"YOU'LL NEVER CATCH ME, LITTLE BEE!" Starscream yelled as he hopped over a few crates in the way. Bumblebee drove up the wall and promptly flipped, landing right on top of the other mech.

"Gotcha, fly boy!" The yellow mech exclaimed, wiggling his digits tauntingly. The seeker kicked his legs, trying to wriggle out from underneath him.

"ehehe- no, NO YOU WOUHOULDN'T!!" The seeker squeaked, trying to curl up on himself.

"Wouldn't what? Tickle you? Why are ya so scared? Is it cause you're ticklish?" Bumblebee teased while his finger's moved in on the seeker's wings.

"NOHOHO DON'T SAY THAHAAAT!!" Starscream shrieked, immediately dissolving into giggles.

"What? Tickle? Tickletickletickle!" He teased, digits lightly grazing the metal of Starscream's wings.

"STAHAHAHAAP!! SHUT UP SHUT UHUPP!!!" The plane mech squeaked, banging his fist on the ground.

"Aw but if I shut up, I can't tell you when I've found all your sweet spots! Lets tryyy..." Bumblebee's voice trailed off as he looked for a spot to start with. His servos briefly hovered over the back of his knees.

"Whahat are you- EHEHEHEHEKAHAHA!!-" The seeker was caught off guard by digits scribbling on the backs of his thighs. He thrashed about, wings fluttering frantically behind him.

"Oh, did I find a bad spot? Does it tickletickletickle there? Did I find one of your giggle buttons?" Bee teased, inching his hands over to pinch and prod at the back of Starscream's knees.

"HEHEHE- SNRK!! NOHOHOHO NOT THEHEHERE!!" The seeker cackled, burying his helm in his arms.

"Not there? Then where, fly boy? You gotta speak up so the Tickle Monster and get ya proper-like!"

"DOHON'T CALL YOURSELF THAHAHAT!!" Starscream giggled into his arms. Bumblebee tsked at him while moving his servos danced across the seeker's wings.

"What, are you scared of the TickleTickleTickle Monster?" The scout smirked to himself and briefly got off Starscream before flipping him onto his back. "Too bad, cause he wants to see your smile!"

"LIKE THE PIT YOU DO!!" Starscream yelled, keeping his faceplate covered with his servos.

"That's too bad! Guess I'll have to use my ultimate trick..."

Starscream uncovered his faceplate, peeking down at the scout. His optics widened with awe as little sparks flew off the scout's fingers.

"you wouldnt-" He squeaked while fingers inched closer to his chassis.

"Oh, but I would!" Bee smirked before stopping just above the metal of Starscream's stomach.

"Youhou're EVIL!" The jet squealed, kicking his pedes behind the scout.

"Funny coming from the evilest mech I know!" Bee retorted while feathering two digits along Starscream's sides. Short little electric shots shot through the plating.

"SNRK- HEHEHEHEHEHEEHE!! THAT TI- SNRK-" Starscream felt his faceplate heat up and tint bright pink.

"It what? Tickles? Come on, you can say that, can't you?~" The bee cooed, knowing damn well the answer. "Come on, tell me how much it tickles, fly boy!" The mech's little shocks traveled downwards while he started to knead the seeker's hips.

"IHIHIT TICKLES SOHOHO BAHAAAAD!! QUIHIT IT!!" Starscream wheezed out, hitting his servo on the ground next to them.

"You really want me to stop?" Bumblebee hummed while slowing down his tickles.

"PLEHEHEHEHEASE!!! HIC- HAVE MERCY!!" The other mech squealed.

"Fine, fine. I won't kill you," Bumblebee lifted his servos and helped the other mech sit up. Starscream leaned on the other's shoulder, still sort of giggly.

"Need some energon?" Bee spoke while his servo rubbed small circles into the seeker's back. Starscream's wings flicked upwards.

"I don't need your pity!...But that does sound nice right about now."

"Whatever you say, fly boy."

FIN.

~~~~~~

HI TYSM FOR READING I CAN'T BELIVE THIS TOOK THREE SAYS....actually i know why it took three days i have a wrist injury-

BUT!! I hope you enjoy my starbee propaganda 😈😈😈

As Always: Please read Pinned Post Before Sending a Request

[bteezxyewriter12]

Lazy Cuddles/ 2

Pairing- Yoongi x Named Reader

Word count- 1.9k

Includes- Soft cuddly boyfriend Yoongi, lazy sex from behind, cock riding, multiple orgasms, so much fluff

Tag List- @mingtina @jaxminnie @yeosayang @delightfulmoonbanana @tannie13 @y00nzin0 @marsstarxhwa

@borntowalkaway @soulseobi05 @kpop-bambi @seokwoosmole @meowmeowminnie @realisticnotes @effielumiere @svnbangtansworld @insomniacatiny @marvelfamily3000 @amyz78 @blueie-things

Masterlists- check out for more fics

📝Masterlists 📝BTS Masterlist 📝Yoongi Masterlist

📝Lazy Cuddles 1

Yoongi POV

"Jagi?", I call, coming into the living room

"Mmmm?", she answers

"Jagi, where are you?"

I walk around the couch to find her laying on it, her face buried in the pillows, blanket pulled up to her chin

"What are you doing baby?", I chuckle, sitting next to her

"Dying"

"No baby, you can't die", I joke, "I need you jagi"

"Yoongi", she whines

Something's wrong

She'd usually joke back with me

"Tell me what's wrong baby", I ask, running my fingers in her hair

"Bad headache", she whispers, "Hurts so much"

"I'm sorry jagi"

She gets bad headaches from time to time

Even with meds it still hurts

Sometimes they last hours, sometimes they're short

Sometimes she gets one every day for a week or two then none for months

She's been checked out and there's no explanation for them

"Did you take meds?"

"Three Advil"

"Three?", I gape

That's a lot but it's normally what she takes when the headaches are severe

"Very bad headache", she whines, "And it's not working anyway"

"I'm sorry baby. Did you drink water? Maybe you're dehydrated?"

"I did naekkeo", she answers, "I'm just trying to nap. Maybe it'll go away when I wake up"

Sounds like a good idea

I don't want to leave her alone though

"I'll stay with you jagi"

She lifts her head, squinting at me, "You don't have to work?"

"Yeah but I can do it here. Use my laptop and headphones and I'll be right next to you"

She nods, "Ok naekkeo. Thank you"

"Of course Jo"

Leaning over her, I kiss her forehead then get up to get my stuff

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

Half an hour later, I stop the music to change something when I hear her whimper

Reaching out, I rub her back as I fix what I need to fix

Then I hit play and listen to the melody

She moves, turning around, her back to me, trying to get comfortable

She hasn't been able to fall asleep yet

I'm trying everything I can- play with her hair, massage her forehead, rub her back but nothing is working

I don't know what else to do for her

Once the music stops playing, I decide it's good and I open a new file to work on

"Yoongi", she whispers

"Yeah baby?"

"Can....you hold me?"

I smile at her back, saying, "Yeah jagi. Of course. I can use a break anyway"

I'll do anything for her, drop anything for her, to help her, to comfort her

Taking my headphones off, I put them and my laptop on the floor, then lay down under the blanket next to her

Wrapping my arms around her body, I pull her against me, her back to my chest

I cuddle into the back of her neck, pressing kisses to her skin there

"Better jagi?"

"Yeah naekkeo. Thank you"

"No need to thank me. I'll always jump at the chance to hold you"

"I love you Yoongi. So much"

"I love you Jo. More than anything", I tell her, "Now try to sleep baby ok? I don't want you hurting anymore"

"I'll try", she says softly

"Good"

Pressing a kiss to her neck, I hold her, my eyes closing as well

I'm not planning on sleeping as I'm not tired but I don't want to just stare at nothing

A few minutes later, I hear her even breathing and I smile

Seems like she just wanted me

Which is fine because she can have me whenever she wants

I'm not ready to get up yet so I just keep a tight hold on my jagi

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

Movement against my dick wakes me up

She's moving around in my arms, her ass rubbing against my crotch

What time is it?

I don't even remember falling asleep

It's not a big deal

That's our thing

Naps

A nap with my jagi is never a bad thing

But her wiggling around is making my dick hard

"Jagi", I murmur, moving my hand down to her hips and stopping her movements, "Don't wiggle baby"

"Huh?", she asks sleepily

"Don't wiggle. Your ass is rubbing against me and making me hard"

"Mmm", she whines, still pushing against me

"Is your headache gone?", I ask, trying not to think about sex

"Yeah. Just needed a nap", she says softly, her body still pressing and moving against my dick

"No more wiggling jagi", I say softly, my cock fully hard against her

It'll go away, I just need her to stop moving

"Put it in naekkeo", she murmurs

"What?", I ask, not sure I heard her right

"I feel how hard you are. Want you. Put it in"

It takes a second for my sleep riddled brain to comprehend what she's saying

"Are you sure?", I ask, once what she says sinks in

"Yes naekkeo. Want you"

I definitely want her so I pull her pants and panties down as far as I can

She lifts her legs to her chest, pulling everything off as I pull my pants and boxers down

I pull her back against me, then align my dick to her entrance and start pushing in slowly

"Yoongi", she murmur, her tight pussy opening for my cock, sucking me in as I move

"Jagi", I whimper, my arm moving around her, keeping her body against mine, "Feels so good baby"

"Mmm", she moans, her cunt getting wetter, leaking around my cock with each inch in

I'm almost in and I shove my hips forward, burying entirely in her sweet cunt, feeling the hard clenching her pussy is doing

The pleasure rolls over me as we both moan

"So good naekkeo", she says softly

"Always good jagi", I tell her, kissing the back of her neck

I move one of her legs back, over mine thigh, spreading her legs open

Moving my hand in between her legs, I run my fingers up her pussy, collecting the juice she's leaking around my cock

Then I press on her throbbing clit, hearing her gasp, and start moving my fingers in a circle

"Yoongi", she moans, shaking against me

Her pussy tightens so hard around me, spasming so blissfully

With each massage of my fingers, her cunt creams my dick more and more

I keep my cock firmly buried in her cunt, starting to grind into her, making sure my head rubs her spot

I slide my free hand up her shirt, groping her boob, pinching her nipple

"Oh god", she cries, "Yoongi, don't stop"

"I'm not baby", I murmur against the back of her neck, pressing soft kisses to it, "Not until you cum all over my cock"

She whimpers, her pussy spasming wonderfully hard around my length

She's so fucking tight, it like her pussy is choking my cock and I'm living for every pulse

I play with her throbbing clit faster, her cunt a waterfall, soaking my pelvis and my thighs, her pretty moans music to my ears

She's close, I can tell from how her pussy's gripping my cock, how she's throbbing

And I know what she needs when she's right there

"Cum for me jagi", I murmur in her ear, "Want your pretty pussy coming all over my cock for me"

"Yoongi, oh god"

She falls apart at the next move of my fingers, orgasming all over me

"Yes baby. Don't stop", I murmur, her body shaking against mine, pleasure from her orgasm washing over me

It feels so fucking good and I wouldn't have it any other way

Her legs start to close as her orgasm continues

Letting go of her boob, I grip her thigh, holding it open

"Keep your legs open", I demand, "I didn't tell you to close them. I'm not done with you yet baby"

She nods, "Ok naekkeo"

"Good girl"

After she finishes, I hold her around her waist and keeping her leg over mine, I pull my hips back, feeling every inch of her pussy tug on my cock as I pull out to my head

"Ready for me jagi?"

She nods

I thrust my whole cock back into her, slamming her spot, her scream of pleasure sounding in the room

I move quickly, fucking her pretty pussy, incredible pleasure washing over me

Her pussy squelches with every thrust, the pornographic sound turning me on more

I pound into her, spreading her hole around my length, making her cunt cream every inch of my cock

She leans back, her arm moving around my neck, her lips crashing into mine

I throw myself into her kiss, my tongue against hers, kissing her hungrily as I fuck her pussy wide open

The kiss is messy, our tongues all over each other's and it's so right in this moment

She moves, pulling me out, then climbs on top of me, sliding down my cock to the hilt

"I need you baby", she murmurs, bouncing on my cock right away

Fuck, I need her

I move us, leaning against the couch cushion, my hands on her thighs

As she comes down, I thrust up into her cunt, going in so deep

"Yes, Yoongi", she cries, grinding on me when I'm all in

I watch her slide up my cock, her pussy cream coating my cock, making a big beautiful mess

She comes down, her pretty swollen lips wrapped around my length, her hole opening and straining as she takes me

Sliding my hands up, I push her shirt up and off, watching her pretty boobs bouncing in my face

She tugs on my shirt, whining as she rides me and I get the hint

As soon as my shirt is off, she leans her hands on my shoulders, fucking the life from me

The pleasure is exquisite and the view of her on my cock, the pleasure in her face is mesmerizing

I love this girl more than anything in this world

I start moving again, thrusting up into her pretty hole as she bounces down, the bliss increasing for both of us

"Yoongi, yes...yes baby", she pants, her gorgeous brown eyes on mine

"So fucking good jagi. Such a good girl for me", I murmur, the throbbing of her pussy becoming extremely hard and tight

We fuck each other, both sweating and the next thrust has her screaming as she cums

"Yoongi", she cries, her pussy squirting, soaking me, her head back, her hips rocking, eyes closed, her fingers digging into the skin of my chest

Ecstacy tidal waves over me, stars explode in my vision, my hand squeezing her thighs hard as I go over the edge, filling her cunt with my cum

"Joanne! Jagi!"

"Yoongi! Yoongi!"

I help her rock on me to prolong the bliss for both of us, my body shaking involuntarily

God, it's so fucking amazing

She's amazing

As we finish, her rocking slows down until she stops

Her eyes meet mine, a soft smile on her face

Her hand cups my cheek, her fingers stroking my skin, a loving look on her face as she gazes at me

"I love you"

My heart pounds in my chest, like it always does when I hear her say those words

"I love you", I tell her, smiling at her too

She leans down, her lips meeting mine

I immediately fall into her kiss, her arms moving around my neck, mine around her waist

As we kiss, we move, laying down, her body against mine, her soft skin against mine, our legs tangling together

Holding onto each other tightly, we cuddle and kiss each other with no intention to stop

[ahsoka-in-a-hood]

I want to talk about Jaster. Like many among us I knew him first through fic, and he fulfills some very specific roles there. This is cool. I like fic!Jaster and I like those fics. But as this is not a fic, and as we all know misinformation is the death of democracy, I want to draw attention to a couple of things from the only source he actually appears in (andis his original appearance).

One is the general idea of Jaster being the Mand'alor, rightful king of Mandalore, basically Arathorn to Jango's Aragorn or whatever. So, uh. These continuities really do barely mesh, but at his inception, Jaster was the leader of a militia- a mercenary army. They called themselves The Mandalorians (the 'True' bit was added later). There was a leadership challenge and a split, which is where Deathwatch comes from. Deathwatch wanted to do straight conquest instead.

Jaster's previous job had been law enforcement on Concord Dawn. And look, I refuse to read the traviss book, so anything introduced there could prove me wrong and I don't care. But it doesn't really seem like Jaster was ever in the actual government- or for that matter trying to be.

As an aside I just want to note that the darksaber at this time was probably in the hands of Tor Vizla. I think it was Tor Vizla. The Vizla that challenged Jaster for control of the militia and then formed deathwatch, anyway. If the darksaber means something.

It's an interesting trend that fanfic so often has him claiming a throne and at the head of an empire, because that's… what the deathwatch split was about. Power and conquest was what they wanted.

The main thing about the Jaster of the comic though, is the nature of his work. There are mercernary militaries in today's world, and they're generally considered bad fucking news. But Jaster is fictional, so why can't he occupy an idealized role? This is the quote at the top of his wookiepedia page: "So what's wrong with being a mercenary? Is your war worth fighting? If it is, then why does it matter who fights it for you? Aren't we imbued with the righteousness of your cause when we take up arms for you? Would you rather your own men and women died to make the point? And if your war is so noble, so necessary—why aren't you fighting it for yourself? Think of all that before you spit on us, aruetii."

That doesn't sound so bad, right? But weirdly enough, that's nothing like what he's shown actually doing. Actually the canon is surprisingly realistic about what being weapons for hire actually looks like, as we're given two 'slice of life' missions to serve as backdrop for his ongoing conflict with deathwatch.

They involve working for corrupt governments to supress "poorly armed natives" and "political activists". I am not using scarequotes, those are direct quotes. There is no suggestion of taking prisoners- they are there to kill, and that's what they do. They are not fighting armies. They are not choosy about their clients. They take easy credits for killing natives with less equipment and training than them.

I guess this is barely on topic since I'm not even making this into a case about why he shouldn't rule mandalore. I just know that while many of us have watched the clone wars and therefore at least know Satine through the show, Jaster is a hazier figure.

There are a few other misconceptions. The True Mandalorians are generally depicted as diverse in fic, for example, but that is a fanon addition to the lore, originally his whole gang (except for jango) were drawn as white men. There's also the whole thing about valuing children- there's no suggestion that he doesn't, mind, but his version of correct child rearing certainly does not match everyone else's values. I've read umpteen fics where he's appalled by padawan endangerment, for example, but uhhh he was sending Jango into combat as an 8(? i am told) year old.

So those are the main fandom misconceptions that come to mind for Jaster.

I could probably write an essay on why I would choose Satine and why she did a better job. Maybe I will. But for now I'm going to leave it at this: ultimately, he was murdered by deathwatch. And ultimately she was murdered by deathwatch. Same foe, different decade.

So maybe the idea that he would have saved mandalore where she couldn't is some sort of easily demonstrable wishful thinking. Since they met the same fate and lost to the same group of guys.

FINALE - You might want to read the propaganda this time. Lots of misinfo in fandom on these two in particular.

Remember, this is NOT about who would win in a fight. This is about who makes the best leader for Mandalore as a whole.

Explanation post

Seeding

More propaganda below the cut! You can submit more on this post and I will reblog it back to here!

Yes, I will even reblog the stuff based on fanon, but I will judge you for it.

SATINE KRYZE

Anon: Satine because she served. Mandalorian fashion week would love her. Manda'slay.

Anon: Satine Propaganda: Was supported by the STRONG MAJORITY, led Mandalore to be in peace for NEARLY 20 YEARS, didn't ban mando'a or armour or any part of the culture like fandom claims, is a good fighter, considered EVERY Mandalorian a Mandalorian and didn't discriminate

@lightsaberwieldingdalek: Satine propaganda: she actually ran a functioning government. Not a mercenary band, or a death cult, or a terrorist extremist organisation, an actual functioning government. Yes there was corruption, corruption she did her best to stop to the point of personally getting in firefights with smugglers, but she took a planet devastated by civil war and by the end of her rule she had schools, public works, and a justice system. - Sure, the rest can run military operations (and we don’t know Satine couldn’t, only that she *won’t*) but can they make the bins get emptied regularly to go to the recycling plants?

@lightsaberwieldingdalek: I understand Jaster has the tacticool appeal, and has the iconic armour, but guys. He did an interpretation of some problematic historical values for the more modern day, led a mercenary band, and under unknown circumstances his group started calling him the historical-cultural title of the ruler of their entire cultural group. I know he’s cool looking, and shoots real good, but at most he’s the equivalent of someone who could be a cult leader but doesn’t want to be. - Meanwhile. Satine. You have issues with her ethical code, and she’s not a cool cause she doesn’t wear the armour. And yet she is the one who *actually ran mandalore*. For 20-ish years, and not only kept it stable but built it up from the ruins of civil war! - Yes yes T-helmet cool and military man competence nice, but that cannot equal taking the ruins of a war torn society and turning it into a mostly peaceful (when terrorism happened it was a big shocking deal, not normalised) urbanised people who eat well, have access to luxury and specialised education (get a offworld Jedi to come lecture) and can ACTUALLY BREATH IN THE ATMOSPHERE RUINED BY ALL THE WARLORDS LIKE JASTER TRYING TO FIGHT THE REPUBLIC TO PROVE THEMSELVES.

Anon: Satine propaganda: she knows what the aftermath of war is like. Jaster knows war from a soldier's perspective, a commander's perspective. But Satine knows it from a noncombatant's perspective. She's seen the aftermath and wreckage it leaves behind. Rebuilding after a war takes far longer and likely costs more than the war itself. I don't think Jaster cares about what happens after the battle. But Satine most certainly does.

@archangelsunited: Efficient and long lasting leader of her faction for years, was able to navigate neutrality with the Republic during the Clone Wars. Excellent Hair pieces.

@publiusmaximum: She allowed her society to experience it's first moment of peace and prosperity in a thousand years. - After she was killed, her society was taken over by fascists and gangsters. In short order Mandalore was razed, made uninhabitable, and her people scattered. - Satine was right about everything.

JASTER MEREEL

Anon: Jaster is the one who should rule Mandalore and all Mandalorians, although he started small he searched to make a new code of conduct for Mandalorian bounty hunters, he tries to keep the culture intact yet keep Mandalore progressive and not stuck in the past and from killing each other.

@spacetime1969: He literally rewrote what it means to be Mandalorian, and he created an entire movement around said philosophy that had a good chance of becoming the controlling party of Mandalore if he hadn't been assassinated. What more do you want?

Anon: Jaster for the win, he's the most recent one who actually knows some shit (as much as I love Din Djarin this poor man doesn't know ANYTHING), besides Jango and Boba but they're both very unstable individuals.

@nerdpickle: Jaster, his philosophy perfectly balanced tradition and reform, keeping the best of both worlds, he was also one of the few people chosen by the people

Mereel is a strong and powerful leader. He defeated the traiter Tor Viszla in battle and even took in a poor, orphaned Concordian child after the battle. No more will Mandalore be forced to consider such petty ideals as peace in order to avoid outright war. Instead, we shall be known throughout the galaxy as the greatest mercenaries the galaxy has ever known. Under his rule, we shall triumph over the foolish savages of planets unconquered and be paid handsomely for it!

Anon: Mereel is a strong and powerful leader. He defeated the traiter Tor Viszla in battle and even took in a poor, orphaned Concordian child after the battle. No more will Mandalore be forced to consider such petty ideals as peace in order to avoid outright war. Instead, we shall be known throughout the galaxy as the greatest mercenaries the galaxy has ever known. Under his rule, we shall triumph over the foolish savages of planets unconquered and be paid handsomely for it!

@archangelsunited: Had a structured document for Mandalorian Culture in the modern (tm) day. He fought with the warriors he sent out and took personal interest in the results of his actions (Jango Fett mentorship). Pissed off Tor Vizla.

@nerdpickle: Satine’s Mandalore was like Switzerland, except without the well trained military, incredibly advantageous terrain, high gun ownership and giant nuclear armed alliance providing a free buffer zone on all sides.

SATINE

@bosooka: Originally here

i wrote way too much for my original draft of this (and it turned into a "fuck jaster mereel" party) so here's an abbreviated version

Why Satine is a Better Ruler Than Jaster in 2 Simple Points

Point #1: Satine actually maintained order on Mandalore for decades

This one is simple. Mereel became Mandalore in ~60BBY and Tor Vizsla tried to overthrow him a mere two years later (and nearly succeeded). He was only in power for six more years before he was betrayed by the very same violent people he allowed to remain by his side because of his belief that a Mandalorian warrior was "merely a highly-paid soldier".

Contrast Satine: ruled from approx. 42BBY until 19BBY, a reign of 23-odd years. For twenty-odd years of her reign New Mandalore was completely peaceful and there were no challengers to her authority among the people or elsewhere. Death Watch only became an issue again when they received Separatist (and ultimately Sith) backing, and Dooku discarded them for being useless. Had Death Watch not allied itself with Maul's Shadow Collective I don't think she would have been overthrown at all.

Point #2: Satine kept Mandalore out of places it didn't belong

As we've established, Mereel had no issues with Mandalorians being mercenaries, used however their clients saw fit. I won't go into the weeds of the ethical implications of mercenaries and why they are illegal under international law on Earth, but in short: letting anyone pay one to kill others is the easiest way to become the cudgel of a fascist. Coincidentally exactly what the Fett clones become when Sidious uses them to exterminate the Jedi. Mereel's "reforms" of the Mandalorian ways did not prevent his troops from getting into a fight they couldn't win against the Jedi on Galidraan (and yes, the Mandalorians shot first:

not that anyone in the fandom remembers this...) after they but an insurrection down on behalf of the corrupt governor of the planet. To be clear, the True Mandos knew that the governor of Galidraan was corrupt and most likely harboring Tor Vizsla, but they still agreed to kill "insurrectionists" for money. Their problems came when Death Watch arranged to make it look like they had also killed women and children. Truly a war between saints and monsters.

Meanwhile Satine: the head of the Council of Neutral Systems, she refused to take sides in a war pushed by the greedy and violent. Yes, she was briefly protected by clones when it comes to light that Death Watch is aligned with the Separatists, but it was immediately followed by the Republic attempting to militarily occupy Mandalore and Satine risking life and limb to keep her people autonomous. Satine refused to become a useful idiot for warmongers, even knowing that it would have been economically advantageous for her to do so. Unlike Jaster Mereel, she has ideals that she values more than credits. He would have accepted an offer from the highest bidder and turned Mandalore into a machine of war for the Sith, just like his Crusader ancestors once did.

Tl;Dr

Satine was actually respected as an authority on Mandalore for literal decades and was only challenged by a miniscule faction of terrorists who had to get foreigners to interfere in their political processes (FML) in order to actually take power from her

Satine kept Mandalore out of conflicts it did not belong in, which largely protected it from military occupation and destruction until the year she died; Mereel made a career out of interfering in the affairs of other planets if they were paid to do so

Unlike Mereel and his successor, Satine had morals to motivate her decisions that were not the pursuit of cold hard cash, including the protection of Mandalorian independence and neutrality

[blackenedsnow]

um you do requests for shadow the hedgehog right? Can we have a shadow fic with a s/o who has a extreme fear of doctors and needles so they have been negecting themselfs ecen though they are extermely sick?.. and shadow has to help them through a doctors appointment?.

trust in me

WARNING: Fear of doctors/needles (medical anxiety), mentions of illness and neglecting health

PAIRING: Shadow the Hedgehog x Reader

NOTE: Hi anon! Thank you so much for this heartfelt request <3 Sending so much love and care your way! Take care of yourself <333

SUMMARY: When your fear of doctors and needles causes you to neglect your health, Shadow steps in, determined to help you face your fears and get the care you need, no matter how much support it takes.

The room felt like it was shrinking. You sat on the couch, blanket wrapped around your shoulders, but even the layers didn’t help the cold sweat trickling down your back. You’d been sick for a while now, and while you could try to hide it with casual excuses, Shadow wasn’t stupid. He’d noticed.

“Enough.” His voice cut through the silence like a blade. Standing in the doorway, arms crossed, Shadow fixed you with a pointed glare that only barely masked his concern. “You’re not getting any better. You need to see a doctor.”

Your chest tightened immediately. “No. I’m fine—really. I just need—”

“You need treatment,” he interrupted, his tone firm but not unkind. “Don’t lie to me.”

You shrank under his gaze, your fingers gripping the blanket. “I can’t,” you whispered. “Nooo.. it’s too much. I can’t do it, Shadow.”

He softened at your admission, the sharpness in his eyes fading. Shadow wasn’t good with words, but he wasn’t heartless. He walked over and crouched in front of you, his crimson gaze locking with yours.

“I understand,” he said quietly, his voice low and steady. “Fear can be... overwhelming. But letting it control you? That’s not like you.”

You swallowed hard, feeling your throat tighten with emotion. “What if I panic? What if it hurts? What if—”

“Stop.” Shadow placed a gloved hand over yours, his grip reassuring but not forceful. “You won’t be alone. I’ll be there every step of the way. You trust me, don’t you?”

You nodded, the lump in your throat making it impossible to speak.

“Then let me help you,” he said, his voice softer now, almost pleading.

The waiting room was quiet, save for the ticking clock on the wall and the occasional rustle of a magazine being flipped. You sat stiffly in the chair, arms folded tightly across your chest, as though you could physically keep the anxiety from breaking through your skin.

Shadow sat beside you, calm as ever. His arms were crossed, one foot tapping impatiently, but his sharp red gaze kept flicking to you. “Stop bouncing your knee,” he muttered, but his voice wasn’t as gruff as usual. “You’re going to wear a hole in the floor.”

“I can’t help it,” you whispered, your voice tight. “I hate this. I shouldn’t even be here.”

“You’re here because you’re sick,” Shadow replied firmly. “If you’d gone earlier like you should have, you wouldn’t be this bad off.”

You shot him a glare, but the truth stung too much to argue. The constant fever, the coughing fits, the bone-deep exhaustion—your body had been screaming for help for weeks, but the thought of doctors and needles kept you rooted in denial. It wasn’t until Shadow had carried you out of the couch this morning, wrapped in a blanket, that you realized there was no more avoiding it.

The nurse called your name, and your stomach dropped. Shadow stood, glancing down at you. “Come on.”

Your legs felt like lead, but somehow, you followed him. The nurse led the two of you into a small, sterile room, and the faint scent of antiseptic hit your nose. You froze in the doorway. Shadow glanced over his shoulder, catching your hesitation immediately.

“Hey,” he said, stepping closer. His voice softened, only slightly, but it was enough to steady you. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

You swallowed hard and nodded, letting him guide you inside. The nurse took your vitals—though she had to coax you into holding still for the blood pressure cuff—and scribbled notes onto her clipboard before leaving you to wait for the doctor.

Sitting on the exam table, you curled your fingers into the edge of the paper covering it, trying not to fidget. Shadow leaned against the wall, watching you closely.

“You don’t have to look so terrified,” he said dryly. “The doctor isn’t going to attack you.”

“It feels like they will,” you muttered.

He let out a quiet “hmph,” but his gaze softened. “I’ll handle the talking. You just sit there and focus on not passing out.”

When the doctor finally entered, you tensed again, your heart pounding. She was calm and professional, asking routine questions that Shadow answered without hesitation. He rattled off your symptoms and timeline with a sharp precision that made it clear he’d been paying more attention to your health than you had.

“We’re going to need to run some tests,” the doctor said, glancing at you. “A blood draw is necessary, along with—”

“No.” The word left your mouth before you could stop it, panic flashing across your face. “I can’t—”

“They’ll do it quickly,” Shadow cut in, his tone firm. He stepped closer to you, placing a gloved hand on your shoulder. “It’s not going to kill you. You can do this.”

The doctor hesitated, looking between the two of you, then nodded. “I’ll have the nurse bring the supplies.”

You stared at Shadow, your breathing uneven. “I don’t think I can—”

“Yes, you can,” he said, his voice steady. “Look at me.”

You did, locking onto the crimson of his eyes. “Breathe,” he instructed. “In through your nose. Out through your mouth. Just like that.”

When the nurse returned, Shadow didn’t move from your side. He guided you to focus on his voice while the nurse swabbed your arm and prepared the needle. When the prick came, you flinched, but his hand was steady on your shoulder.

“It’s over,” he said quietly, the moment the needle was withdrawn. “See? You didn’t die.”

Your lips twitched at his deadpan delivery. “That was awful.”

“Maybe. But you got through it.” His gaze was unrelenting, but there was something warm in his tone that made your chest ache. “Next time, don’t wait until you’re half-dead to get help. Got it?”

You sighed but nodded. “Got it.”

Shadow smirked, his confidence unshaken. “Good."

[joaoflms]

sooo…. saka fic but when the reader/oc is in love w his best friend and he just can’t accept that☺️💕

Bad Religion. Bukayo Saka

୨ৎ⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ♥︎ ⋅ ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊ ♡︎

pair ; Bukayo Saka x Fem!Reader

disclaimer ; Angst - no happy ending

d speaks ; specially dedicated to my beautiful girl, @sakashq ! you’re amazing and a great writer, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. i love you tons. also, sorry this is so short !!

It was a beautiful day, Saka woke up refreshed and thought today would be great. He called you and asked if you wanted to go to a restaurant that he knew was your favorite.

He was so excited to hear accept his invitation, but you asked if he could bring his friend along. He said yes to you but his heart dropped.

He knew your feelings for his best friend, but this was his last straw. He also knew that his best friend was just leading you on, he had told him to quit it ages ago. The two had gotten into so many fights and you were the main reason why, Saka always told him that you were the wrong girl to be playing like that.

Once you all arrived at your favorite restaurant, you all started to converse per usual. You had realized Saka was looking at you particularly different than he usually did, or that you noticed of.

Once you guys wrapped up lunch, Saka was zoning out as you talked to his friend, laughing at all of his jokes and looking at him with such admiration in your eyes. He was done.

“I’m gonna head home…” He blurts out. “What? Why?” You say with a frown creeping up on your face.

“I’m not going to sit here and watch the girl that I’ve been in love with for years stare at my best friend with goo-goo eyes when he’s just leading her on. I can’t watch this jackass treat you like you’re some other girl, because in my eyes you’re much more than that! I’m sick of putting myself through this when I know both of your true feelings, that’s all.”

Your jaw completely dropped. You had no idea he had these feelings.

You feel like such a jerk replaying in your mind all you’ve said to him about how much you like his friend.

“Saka, I..” You say as tears swell up in your eyes, you feel like such a bitch.

Before you can say anything, he storms off and leaves.

୨ৎ⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ♥︎ ⋅ ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊ ♡︎

@dylvnstape ! @ar4ujos @planetpedri @halfwayhearted @percys-princess @hrts4havertz @icopewithfanfictions @livelovepercabeth @jfelixx11 @ultraviolencewh0r3s @eyeliketoeatpoosay @riotsuns @bueckrs !! 🤍

[fountainpenguin]

Mind Over Magic

Crocker stuffing the cafeteria ceiling full of Fs...

So funny that A.J.'s reaction to Timmy getting answers right on a quiz is that he's lucky and Chester just assumes Timmy cheated somehow.

Wanda really has no filter... She'll just call her godchild a jerk with no hesitation. lmao.

I love Veronica's crush on Timmy.

Elmer has life so freakin' rough. There's just one kid in this class who's inexplicably possessed... incredible. <- Has a sudden urge to binge "Never Had a Friend Like Me" again.

I totally forgot Crocker knows about Elmer's mind control situation (or at least, we know Elmer asked him about it and Crocker promised to help him).

Wanda holding an entire armful of candy while Timmy gets only one piece... lol.

Hard Copy

Remembering how afraid Cosmo is of the doctor... Me glancing awkwardly at my 'fics like "Yeah, that tracks."

Cracks me up that Wanda and Juandissimo have an ongoing relationship of her using him "as bait." That's just what they are and he will play along every time... They are so funny.

This is such a good episode for Wanda... All the magical mistakes and poor choices in this episode are hers. I like when she pulls a jar of jam from the copier and starts eating it, completely forgetting what Timmy asked for... or when she and Timmy eat cake instead of solving the magical mishap affecting them. Very Season 7-esque when they have a tea party while Cosmo's gone ("Super Zero").

RIP Flipsie's indoctrination into a life of crime.

Parenthoods

Still so funny that Cosmo loves Canada in this episode and then in Season 7, you learn he's convinced his brother invented Canada.

I want Hazel to meet Schnozmo so bad...

Every time Mr. Turner calls his wife nicknames like Snugglebutt I lose my mind. Man just loves fawning over his wife.

Lol, there's a scene in Frayed Knots I wrote years ago that we're almost upon, and it draws directly from this episode (Anti-Wanda convinced the Anti-Fairy legal system will see her through).

Timmy has some really cute body language in this episode.

Honestly, this is one of my favorite episodes- it's just so silly and cute. Good use of magic and shapeshifting, lots of fun jokes like magic bending the fabric of the world like a map (or Timmy trying to assist with a theft).

-> I have a draft somewhere where I note down odd things that aren't against Da Rules, and I think "Assisting with crime" is one I need to add.

THERE THEY ARE! Cosmo and Wanda turn into rats at the end of this episode, and I think that's the shape of the rat I saw during my first watch of "1500 Minutes of Fame" and wondered if I'd seen it before. I'll have to compare these sometime.

The Big Superhero Wish

I have a soft spot for "Big Superhero Wish" because it's one of the first episodes I ever saw (during a visit to a pizza place when the sound was muted).

-> I think it's a fun one in the way it looks at relationships between random schoolkids (Especially Veronica). I also enjoy how Chester gets to chew through matter in this episode and then when you get to Season 5, he's trying to chew his way out of the F.U.N. Academy with the same "Munch munch munch" dialogue he does here.

Apparently Nega-Chin can tell Timmy and Remy apart even though regular Crimson Chin can't.

Timmy drowning in papers marked F followed by "Cool, there's a D in here!"

I like watching Timmy's average problems like getting picked on and wanting a glass of milk to cheer him up, but not even getting that.

Minotaur Francis is everything to me...

I like how Crocker knows a lot about comics, but specifically because he's confiscated them from kids during class. Playing that against his miserable child upbringing is kind of funny... I wonder if he read many comics as a kid, or if that's not something he ever really wished for.

Actually, Timmy being cut off before finishing a wish is something I would've liked to see more often. It's just silly. The tension balance in this episode once the heroes are wished away and villains stay is pretty good.

ksdlkfj, "I used my regular kid window-opening powers!" Elmer...

Totally forgot Chester ran up to Vicky and bit her on the leg, oh geez.

"My nega-vision will cut through your bodies like nega-vision!"

I would've loved an episode where Timmy goes into the real world to rescue the writer of the Crimson Chin comics since this episode ends with the Nega-Chin taking him captive. Alas. I guess I could write a 'fic about that, but I think it defeats the point a little when the visuals aren't going to change, haha.

I really want to watch "Masked Magician" again now, but I think that's later in Season 5 so it'll come up later in my binge.

Vicky Loses Her Icky

Ooh, Sanderson head gag means "Pixies Inc." is coming up after this!

This episode is so goofy. Timmy's parents hire Vicky to babysit Timmy while they sit in the car in the driveway, waiting to be hungry enough to leave to the restaurant.

I wonder why I always see people complain this episode is annoying for "giving Vicky the backstory of being evil due to being bitten by a bug," because it's clearly stated that the bug came about because she was mean and Cosmo and Wanda had to give it physical form to remove it [Wanda claiming "All that evil has to go somewhere"]. /shrug

Here it is! I've been trying to remember what the "corn on Pluto" episode was.

I don't... I don't love Vicky saying she's leaving to donate organs. Are they HER organs?

Alarm bells instantly ringing when Vicky offers to dig people basements. I don't think Dale would like that.

Shout-out to Timmy's dad being rescued from the evil bug and immediately saying, "Hey, we're at the Cake 'N Bacon... Are we at least being nice?"

President dressing up like George Washington was such a funny way to avoid depicting a specific president.

Pixies Inc.

My boys are in the house!!

How have I literally never noticed Timmy's in the Future Business Leaders of America club...

Y'know, I always thought H.P. was just blatantly losing the golf game despite cheating, but watching again, the reason he has more strokes than Timmy in golf is because he went first.

Never not funny how many emotions the Pixies show when they're actually spooked or sad. They talk in monotone, but still make expressions... and that's not even counting their silly dialogue. I love them.

Dale Dimmadome & H.P. dynamic is so silly to me... Dale grew up around Dimmadome Farms [implied] and runs a burger chain, and the soy- & rice-loving Pixies aren't exactly known for eating meat. I just want them to try getting on the same page and continually hit roadblocks that make it weird.

Baby Face

I had no memory of "Baby Face" coming immediately after "Pixies Inc.," but oh my gosh does that make the "Gary and Betty seemingly knew about Pixies the whole time" theory funnier.

There they are! My other sillies are in the house!

Wait.......... hold up. Were Gary and Betty in the room when Timmy made his baby wish? -> There... there's no door behind them when the camera pans over.

They are so dang sus. Why were these babies unsupervised. Why did they not hesitate for a split-second before cramming Francis in a teeny tiny cage..... They are my everything.

crying at the huge crash sound effect that hits as Gary and Betty open the door off-screen. Why are they like that...

I say this every time I watch this episode, but Gary and Betty opting not to help a crying child and instead lock him in a soundproof dome is so dang funny. These two should not be left with kids. If they show up in New Wish with the Pixies, I will die actually... I still can't believe we got a Flappy Bob cameo. My son.

I feel like Vicky knowing Gary's and Betty's fun box song by heart is such a neat detail. Why is she hanging out with them. Why would they ever hang out with her. Fascinating...

Mr. Right

Another of the episodes I watched muted at a pizza place once upon a time...

Timmy and Melvin shoved into the same locker is giving me Leonard/Tammy flashbacks.

Elmer really doesn't keep his problems secret, huh? ("The boil doesn't like to be touched!")

Shout-out to the running gag of Francis scheduling his beatings.

I wonder why Vicky didn't go to school. The elementary school got out early. Maybe "recording Timmy's pain for future generations as a short film" was her homework.

...... Okay, actually.... I can TOTALLY see why A.J. goes on to found the Galax Institute in A New Wish based on his sudden uptick of interest in Timmy after noticing he's right all the time. I guess he really will chase the unexplained!

I love Francis... "Guess what I have behind my back. And don't say scorpion, because I checked." <- Guy who's really itching to finish my "Francis with a fairy godparent" 'fic...

lol, is Wanda's signature in her poof cloud the same as her signature when she signed papers in "Pixies Inc."? I think it might be.

That's all for now.

[leandra-kinard]

I can see your point that there's a clash of intention/topic here from your perspective. However, for me it was an opportunity to make a connected/related "counter" point (also not solely aimed at your original post but the added screenshot as well), because I also feel posts like yours could - under certain circumstances and through certain readings - be adding to a general harsher rift between the two factions than necessary. I'm definitely not saying that was your attention, but personally it's something that, let's say, slightly miffed me about this whole conversation a couple of times now, in a variety of posts.

I do understand why you think I should have made my own post on it, rather than adding to yours. But then again, I do enjoy a conversation and polite debate rather than just "ranting to the void". I believe it can be very beneficial to those engaging in such a debate in good faith and the ones reading it. But that's my POV. So I guess this is where we both clash in our preferences on how to add/debate or not debate/add to such posts, and that is fine.

Regarding the main points you made, you know how you meant it and what context you brought it up from - so in that regard it's fully valid - but some people may take it as "Ah look, this person, too, says the Buddies are homophobic (in general/often)". Tumblr reading comprehension and all, you know?

I am also definitely not saying you are erasing anyone's experience. I'm just saying, in general, this tendency to point to homophobia sometimes does that - albeit unintentionally, I assume. It is a bit of a slippery slope, imho, because sometimes the people expressing their wishes for a specific type of queer story (like what they imagine Buddie could have been like) are queer people who have made those very experiences or similar ones themselves - lesbians who fell on love with their best friend and finally gave up on comphet behavior, or people who believed themselves to be straight and realized they were bi after all (not dissimilar to Buck). I know you're not saying these people all come from a place of homophobia, but I personally see a risk of it being read that way. Of people falling into that mentioned trap of dismissing ANY pro-Buddie sentiment as homophobic /otherwise problematic.

So, regarding the last statement you quoted, this was meant more generally to the Bucktommy fandom and not per se you or your post. We are not having a private conversation here, we are doing it in front of an audience who will approach both what you and I are saying with highly individual biases and viewpoints.

There is no issue with the things you said per se, but imho the risk of certain takeaways that I have already seen expressed callously by other people, e.g. "Most of the Buddies are straight women who are deeply homophobic" or similar.

The whole Silken debacle is cringe AF, and embarrassing for the whole 911 fandom. And we really do not have to talk about some of the much more vile and toxic things that were said and done. I am in absolute and full agreement to call those instances out and, like you, am disappointed to not see enough of such calling out from the Buddie fans. That is highly regrettable and cowardly.

I also understand (through posts like yours even more deeply than I already did before, as a 44 year old queer woman who lived with a gay guy for many years and has known many gay men), that many especially young shippers have a sort of watered-down image of the "ideal gay relationship" that isn't reflective of reality. There's nothing wrong with having certain preferences when it comes to reading and writing fic, but there IS something wrong with painting things outside of that comfort zone as icky or bad (like all that shitty discourse on Tommy being predatory and similar stupid takes).

In years of shipping and engaging in fandom I've seen takes that were bordering on or veering into (unintentional) homophobia, or rather bigotry towards gay men in particular, because so much of it is based on a sexually/romantically inexperienced and predominantly female perspective. There's a difference between how lesbians and gay men live out their sexuality and love life - at least in tendency - and it's important to acknowledge that and, as you said, read up on gay culture if one isn't too familiar with some things. Or to simply acknowledge that many preferences and approaches are valid and good, and, as you said, here's not a limit to what kinds of queer representation should be present in popular media.

Anyway, I also appreciate that you replied calmly and in good faith. Just to make it clear again, I do not disagree with the things you said or with pointing out these particular examples. I just personally think it is important to also remember (and remind others - the "audience" of these debates) not to generalize as a takeaway from these very valid observations.

the more and more time i spend on tumblr and come across insane Buddie takes and behavior, the more and more i am convinced that the small, vocal, toxic subsection of shippers who don't know how to behave are, how shall i say it?

homophobic

they don't seem to actually like gay men. the situation with richard siken is an example of that. what they appear to like is their made-up version of what gay men are like and what they do. there's no concept of nuance or an actual understanding of queerness that informs their ship.

and i don't think you do need to understand it. sometimes you can just enjoy something without looking into it differently. but if you're going to be out on main talking about Buddie this and Buddie that, then you absolutely need to do the bare minimum and inform yourself on gay culture and gay issues so you don't, you know, go after a gay poet because you didn't like his tone.

sorry, there's a reason gay men of his demographic don't take shit. it's because they took so much shit that a large percentage of them died. the ones that survived don't owe you a tone when you act like an idiot.

the internet is free. wikipedia is free.

use a search engine and educate yourself, just a tiny little bit, and stop fetishizing while holding onto homophobic attitudes

[anarchycox]

I have done a post about this before, but I tried to find it and well you know the tumblr search engine.

So I will say it again.

STOP SHITTING ON YOUR WORK IN THE TAGS AND SUMMARY ON AO3.

My god, please don't hate yourself this much. Self deprecating on a website where people go to read about fictional characters doing things we all make up, isn't as funny as maybe you think it is.

If you post in the summary "Old and bad, readers be warned," I am going to take you at your word and not read it because you said it is bad.

Be kinder to your past self who was learning and having fun for the love of pete.

You were brave enough to post, be brave enough to respect yourself and the work you did.

[starry-bi-sky]

Blood Blossom Au: Baby's First Commissioner Meeting :)

TL:DR This Post: Danny (orphan) gets poisoned with blood blossom extract by Vlad. He runs away from him and ends up under the care of one Pre-Robin Battinson Batman! Starry is loudly pushing her batdad agenda.

(Also known as "Late At Night, When The Nightingale Sings" on my ao3!)

This was a fun rough idea I've been sitting on for weeks, thinking about how Commissioner Gordon and Nightingale's first meeting might go.

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

Commissioner Gordon likes to think that he's adjusting to the new normal of Gotham very well, -- the new normal being grown men running around dressed like bats, in military-grade strength body armor, committing acts of vigilantism, -- and slowly, little by little, he was no longer being surprised when this new normal pops up out of the shadows like the world's most terrifying daisy. His shaving lifespan thanks him for it.

....

The kid is a surprise though.

Granted, he seemed to be a surprise to the Bat too.

There's been a string of murders lately, -- which, in Gotham, is kind of like saying there's been another storm during monsoon season. And there's just been another; in some dilapidated building down in south Gotham, with the broken, boarded-up windows and mildew-crawling walls to match. The victim is a man in his thirties, multiple gunshot wounds to the chest, left in the center of the room for the blood to pool out around him.

The place is already secured when he arrives, the building swarmed with officers and the forensic detectives. The Bat emerges shortly after he does -- or, he might've been here the whole time, hiding someplace dark and shadowy. For his own sanity, Gordon doesn't think about it too hard.

The kid is a surprise, and he appears like a bolt of lightning.

He shows up in the middle of a conversation Gordon is having with the Bat.

A whistle, sharp and loud, slicing through the air, meant for open air rather than a confined space. Gordon's ears pierce and protest the sound, and the solemn, murmured chatter floating through the room abruptly cuts off like the swing of a gavel. As he turns towards the sound -- as they all do -- he swears, up and down, that he sees Batman's shoulders jump, just slightly.

At the source, perched on the window, is a boy. A boy in a gray-blue scarf and an oversized black hoodie, one that hangs off his frame and has ace bandages wrapped around the wrists in some attempt to cinch the sleeves. The hood is up, big like the rest of it, and threatens to swallow the upper half of the boy's face whole in the fabric. What upper half Gordon can see, is smeared with some kind of opaque, black face paint. He's holding onto the side of the frame with one hand, on his hip is a grappling hook. A familiar grappling hook.

Gordon has multiple questions, and his officers tense up.

Martinez puffs up, brows furrowing as his face shapes into a frown. Shoulders rolling back. "You can't be here, kid--"

The reaction is immediate, like a spark to gunpowder, the boy yanks his fingers from his mouth and his mouth twists into a scowl. Head snapping over to Officer Martinez, his hood manages to stay on but Gordon swears that as he bares his teeth, the glint makes them look sharper than they should be. His voice is rasp and quiet and harsh; snappish in its hissing; "Put a fuckin sock in it, Martinez. I'm not stayin."

Martinez reels back, and the boy immediately veers his attention off him. Like a switch, his demeanor drops. Despite half his face being covered, his mouth twists into a cringing, apologetic smile. Slanted and off-beat, embarrassed. It'd be disarming if this wasn't Gotham, and if he didn't just hiss at Martinez like he was about to bite his head off.

"Sorry." He whispers, voice deceptively polite and softer now. Gordon has to strain his ears to hear him. "I was looking for him."

He points his finger towards-- Gordon? No, Gordon follows the direction, and finds himself looking at -- the Bat.

The Bat, who always looks stiff as a pole, now looks even stiffer. Somehow. Well, the explains the grappling hook attached to the boy's waist.

"What are you doing here?" The Bat says, gruff and unable to completely smother the stumble of surprise in his tone.

The boy still holds a sheepish smile, and slips off the window ledge. His feet hit the creaky boards with a near-silent thud, the Batman finds his feet and rapidly begins crossing the room.

Gordon notes the slight tremble in the boy's legs as he straightens. He adjusts his scarf, which droops close to his knees now that he's standing, and slings a backpack -- how long has had that? -- off his shoulders. When the Bat reaches his side, he does as he always does, and looms over the boy like a spectre. A threatening mass of shadows cloaked in all-consuming black. Standing next to him, the boy looks teeny in comparison.

The Bat is a man who terrifies even the most hardened criminals, Gordon has seen grown men shiver in fear at the mention of his name. And yet when the boy looks up at him, he doesn't even flinch.

Instead, his sheepish smile melts away like ice under the sun, holding only traces of his previous embarrassment. It remains as a shadow on his face, a small upturn at the corners of his mouth. The boy pushes his hood back just enough to reveal glinting, ice-flint eyes surrounded in tar-black face paint. He holds the backpack up with one arm. "You forgot this."