#but i feel like this is just 'they really really care a lot about each other please cry with me'

[starmocha]

I've got this doubt that I can't shake off: if MC's pregnancy, for some reason, is a very tough and risky one (both might die or something), which one of the guys would have the saddest breakdown at some point (just ugly crying into MC's arms after months of keeping it together for her sake) and which would have the angriest (trashing entire offices, taking their anger out on their enemies or both)?

(I had intended to respond earlier, but man…that trailer…) Gosh, you guys know how to prod at that special part of my brain with these asks lately… 🥺 I may or may not have...started writing...little...snippets, really... 😔

Zayne would go into “doctor-mode.” He is going to utilize his medical knowledge and resources to give you the best care possible for both you and the baby, and while it seems you have nothing to worry about, you will feel the emotional-withdrawal from him as everything will feel so methodical and clinical and he forgets completely his role as a husband until you break down crying.

You had tried to keep your emotions in check these last few months, rationalizing that Zayne was never an expressive person, but his feelings and actions were always sincere. He was pacing across the bedroom reviewing with you about your recent prenatal checkup and what it meant for both you and this baby. It had been like this for several months now, and with your weak heart and the risk it posed for both you and the baby, Zayne had been extra attentive about your prenatal care.

As you sat on your bed, heavy with his child and close to your due date, listening to him rattle off different medical terms and speaking to you less as a wife but more as if you were his patient, you could feel your emotions peaking. You couldn’t remember the last time he was affectionate with you or actually asked how you were personally feeling throughout this whole pregnancy. He was by your side more, but you had never felt as lonesome as now, needing him back as your husband and not a doctor. You could feel the tears brimming, but it was getting harder each day to suppress your feelings.

Everything Zayne was saying sounded like muffled gibberish to you. You could barely focus on the present, barely acknowledging even the faint movements of the baby you were carrying, feeling more lost in your loneliness. You finally let your emotions and hormones collide and broke down crying in front of him, startling him immediately. Within seconds, he was on his knees before you, grasping your arms as he asked worriedly, “What’s wrong? Are you hurting somewhere?”

It took you a minute to gather yourself before you felt calm enough to speak, finally revealing to him how you hated who he had become during this time. At first, Zayne looked shocked, not quite comprehending what you had just said to him, but the more he pondered your hurt words, the more he realized there was a lot of truth in what you had said.

He kissed your belly, surprising you. Then, he got up and sat down next to you on the bed, pulling you into his embrace as he kissed your forehead, his apologies immediate and sincere.

“I didn’t mean to,” he said, holding you a little tighter, “I just…don’t want anything to happen to you. Either of you.”

You leaned into his embrace, and sighed softly, “I know…I’m not mad at you. I’m just…”

Zayne looked down, noticing how your words gradually stopped and you were withdrawing again. He lifted your chin, making you look at him as he coaxed you gently, “Just what?”

“I just miss you,” you said, voice breaking again and fresh tears brimmed your eyes. As he brushed your tears away, you cried harder, “And I’m scared…and I can’t stop thinking about all of the things that could go wrong…and then I realize stressing over this is also hurting the baby and…and…”

Zayne looked guilty as he realized that while he was too focused on your physical health, he had neglected your mental and emotional state, realizing how you had been suppressing your feelings for his sake.

He sat back against the headboard and pulled you back to rest against him. He apologized again for his neglect, and for the rest of that night, he listened and comforted you through your anxieties. There was that familiar warmth in his embrace that you missed, and the softness in his eyes returned as he listened to you earnestly. While your anxieties were still there, they seemed more manageable now that you realized the man by your side in this moment was not Doctor Zayne but your Zaynie, your beloved husband.

Rafayel is angry and emotional and will lash out and say things he doesn’t mean, such as he would rather lose the baby than you.

It had been like walking on eggshells these past few months. You had tried to keep your spirits up in spite of the situation, but eventually everything that had been quieted was going to surface, reaching an ugly peak.

You just had never expected him to say such words to you.

“You…don’t want…the baby?” You felt like you were choking as you uttered those words back to Rafayel.

He looked conflicted, his face twisted in pain and frustration. “I…I didn’t mean it,” he finally said, seeming to struggling with not just his words, but also his feelings.

You glared at him with tears in your eyes. “You said it! What could you have possibly meant to say if not that!”

“I don’t want to lose you!” he finally yelled back, frustrated that his words were being used against him by you of all people.

A strained silence filled the space, creating a rift between the two of you as you stared at one another in shock. In the distant, there was the cries of seagulls flying outside the studio, the sound of waves crashing on the shore a peculiar reminder that time was still moving forward even as you two stood frozen, locked in this seemingly unbreakable tension.

After several beats, Rafayel dropped to his knees, his head buried into his hands as he apologized, though it seemed more like he was apologizing for hurting you and not because of what he had said.

You walked closer to him, surprised when his arms wrapped around your waist, and his face pressed against your rounded stomach.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized again. He didn’t look up at you, but his words were heard clear: “I just can’t lose you again.”

You stared down at his head of hair, unsure of what you could say in this moment. He looked so broken and helpless, and while you understood his sentiments, it still did nothing to alleviate the hurt you felt at his earlier words. Shakily, you let your hand rest on the back of his head, as you said softly, “My fishie…I won’t leave you…”

You said that to comfort him, but even you had doubts about whether you could hold true to your words. It was so bright and sunny outside in Linkon today, so why did your future look so gray and uncertain? This was to be a joyous time in both of your lives, but even as you both felt the baby kicked and moved, that cloud of doubt remained.

Xavier is stunned and feels helpless.

It had been an awkward couple of weeks. Xavier was quieter than usual, but he still answered you whenever you spoke. You didn’t think he was upset at you, but you also couldn’t ignore the sudden distance between the two of you.

“Captain Jenna had put me on desk duty for the remainder of my pregnancy,” you told him over dinner one night.

He didn’t answer you, appearing distracted as he was grilling some beef slices on an electric griddle.

“Xavier?”

“Huh?” He looked up, surprised. “Oh, sorry, I had something on my mind. What did you say?”

“I…I said Captain Jenna is putting me on desk duty,” you repeated hesitantly.

“That’s good,” he answered and picked a slice of beef off the griddle to place in your bowl. “You should have some more meat for protein.”

“…thank you,” you said, noticing the way his eyes kept averting with yours. You placed your bowl on the table, upset now. “Xavier, did I do something wrong?”

He looked taken aback by the sudden question. He immediately shook his head. “Wrong? Why would you even think that?”

You frowned. “You’ve barely spoken with me lately,” you said, “It’s been nothing but ‘yeah,’ ‘okay,’ ‘alright’ from you lately.”

“I’m sorry,” he looked at you with remorse etched on his face. He sighed as he turned the griddle off before he rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. “I…I just have something on my mind.”

“You keep saying that,” you retorted, mildly irked now, “What could be on your mind that is more important than being here with me?”

“You.”

Your irritation disappeared in that moment, his solemn gaze resting on you. Slowly, you found your voice, your words stuttering a little in confusion, “Wha…what do…you mean?”

“You and the baby,” he clarified. “Ever since the doctor said this was a high-risk pregnancy, I just…can’t stop thinking about…everything that could go wrong.”

“Xavier…”

“I don’t know how to make this easier for you,” he continued, suddenly unable to hide his anxiety any longer, “And even if we do everything right, what if things go wrong at the last minute? What if—no, just…no…”

You gasped when he suddenly came to you, his arms wrapped around you immediately in a tight embrace. He kissed the top of your head and apologized again, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“Xavier…it will be alright,” you reassured him.

He was silent.

“We’ll both be alright,” you continued.

“Right…” he answered, but you noticed he still didn’t want to let you go. You also didn’t want him to part, so you both remained in this moment a while longer.

Sylus has all of the money and connections in the world. He is going to ensure that both you and the baby will be alright throughout the pregnancy until birth. On the surface, he seems calm and confident, but to keener eyes, such as yours, you will pick up on his anxiety through little tics or behavioral changes.

The moment you had told Sylus you were pregnant with his baby, he lavished you with even more luxuries than before. You received the best care possible, especially when it came to light that this pregnancy was not going to be easy for you and there was concern about the health of the baby. Sylus made sure the most qualified doctors were monitoring you and he had ordered the personal chefs to prepare only nutritional dishes for you and the baby.

He was adamant that you received only the best of the best, and to strangers, Sylus appeared to be so level-headed and grounded, not a trace of worry could be seen on his face.

You, however, noticed how he seemed to drum his fingers on hard surfaces more often. He would also pull out his coin to flip at the most peculiar time, and his visits to the boxing ring also seemed to have increased. There were so many odd tics that you couldn’t ignore, but you suspected you knew the reason why.

One evening, you slipped into bed earlier while Sylus was still sleeping. It would almost be time for him to wake up from his slumber, so you waited. When you noticed the fluttering of his eyes, you leaned in closer, smiling as your face was the first thing he saw once he awoken.

“Good morning,” you greeted him with a mischievous smile, leaning down to peck his lips.

“Mm…morning,” he answered back in amusement, still a little groggy and bleary-eyed. He yawned. “What did I do to deserve seeing such a sweet sight first thing after waking up?”

“I wanted to talk.”

His mirth disappeared in that instance upon hearing your stern tone. He shifted in bed, sitting up with his back to the headboard. “Is something the matter?”

“You tell me.”

Sylus shook his head in confusion. “Sweetie, you are going to have to elaborate more,” he responded with a frown. “What are we talking about?”

“Are you…worried?”

“Worry?”

You rested a hand over your belly, his gaze instantly following your movement. “About the pregnancy,” you clarified.

“Of course I worry,” he answered back in that same even tone.

“You…seemed so assured, but lately, I’ve noticed these little…tics,” you explained, elaborating to him more in details as he listened patiently. When you finished, Sylus gently pulled you closer to him, letting your body rest against his. His arm wrapped around you, his hand resting on your belly to rub gentle little circles.

“I will always worry about you,” he said, “but panicking over things will not achieve anything, so I just redirected my worries elsewhere. Is that a problem?”

You shook your head and looked up at him. “No, I was just…wondering if you wanted to talk about them with me.”

He laughed and bent down to peck your lips. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“What if I want to?”

He smiled in amusement and kissed you again. “Then who am I to argue with my pregnant wife?”

“What would you do?”

“Do what?”

“If…I don’t ma—”

“You will be fine,” he immediately cut you off, his demeanor shifting entirely. “You will both be fine.”

“But—”

He lay back down in bed, pulling you closer to him in a tighter embrace. “Lull me to sleep,” he said instead.

“But isn’t it time for you to wake—” You clammed up when he shot you a pointed look. You could sense his unease, feeling his fingers digging into your flesh a little more. He was upset, deeply troubled, and you hated how he carried that burden alone on his shoulders.

“Alright,” you answered, snuggling into his embrace. You sang a song, a lullaby you had learned recently that you hoped to sing to your baby in a few months. As you sang, Sylus quietly hummed along, and it wasn’t long before you both fell asleep together, your worries left behind as you dreamed of the upcoming months when a new bundle of joy would arrive at Onychinus’ base.

Caleb is nervous, but he pours himself into taking care of you, because that is all he has ever known. He’s never liked seeing you ill or hurt, so he is going to do everything possible to make sure you receive the best care ever. He will do a lot of research and ask as many questions as he could to gain insight on what can be done to minimize the risk so both you and the baby will make through the pregnancy as safely as possible. He does not even want to consider the possibility of losing you.

You didn’t have any autonomy over yourself anymore. Whatever you wanted to do, Caleb did it for you first. Whatever you were craving, he would negate it half the time, citing it was better for you to eat a healthier alternative.

Even though you wanted to be mad at him, you knew he was doing this out of worry after the reveal that there were some concerns about this pregnancy. The moment that you had heard the word “risky,” everything afterwards suddenly sounded muffled as you were frozen in shock, a sudden anxiety creeping in as you stared down at your belly. Meanwhile, Caleb was already proactive, asking what needed to be done, what you both needed to be aware of, and so on and so forth. As if he could sense your worries, his hands immediately rested on your shoulders as he stood behind you while he continued to converse with the doctor.

He was your pillar and your protector. He always was, and he always will be.

Even if sometimes you found him to be overbearing.

You had missed many of his more indulgent dishes ever since he had put you on a clean-diet, and each time, you made a point of letting him know just how upset you were as you sulked when he finished setting the table with steamed fish and green veggies with bamboo shoots.

“It’s only temporary,” he reassured you, smiling to himself as he watched you picked at the fish half-heartedly.

“Most women get to enjoy their cravings while pregnant,” you said sullenly, taking a small bite of the fish.

He nodded in agreement as he sat down opposite of you. “If this was a normal pregnancy, then of course you should be able to indulge on your cravings—”

You looked at him hopefully.

“But your cholesterol level is higher than normal, and we also need to be cautious about the risk of developing gestational diabetes—”

You sulked again. “You are killing my appetite again.”

Caleb laughed softly as he set his chopsticks down. He cocked his head to the side, his chin resting in the palm of his hand as he leaned forward on the table. “What are you craving, pipsqueak?”

“What does it matter? You won’t let me have anything…” You bit into your bamboo shoot, not making eye contact with him.

“Pretend I will,” he answered in the same tone.

You shrugged. “…Pasta.”

“Pasta? Okay,” he answered thoughtfully, “What else?”

“Hmm…pizza…cheesecake…dumplings…”

Caleb covered his mouth to suppress his laughter as he watched you list each food longingly, practically lost in your own world and not even paying attention to him anymore. When it seemed you had finished listing, he questioned you again, “That’s all?”

You sighed and shook your head.

“What else is there? You’ve practically listed all of the food available on takeout menus,” he teased.

“…Braised chicken wings…”

Caleb looked surprised. “What?”

“Your braised chicken wings,” you clarified and looked up to meet his surprised gaze.

“Okay,” he said after a moment, “I’ll make some braised chicken wings tomorrow for dinner.”

You perked up. “R-really?” You eyed him suspiciously. “What about my clean diet?”

“In moderation would be fine,” he answered, smiling, “Besides, having the mother of my child miserable the whole time is also not good for the baby.”

You huffed at him, annoyed. “I’m miserable because of you.”

He blinked, not expecting you to suddenly be mad at him again. “I’m only—”

“I can’t enjoy the food I like, I’m tired all of the time, I can’t even see my feet anymore, my back hurts, my feet are swollen—how am I fat when I’m not even eating anything yummy?!”

“…are you having a mood swing?”

“Yes!” you cried out hysterically, nearly sobbing, “It’s your fault, too, I can’t control my hormones right now!”

Caleb laughed helplessly as he stood from his seat and crossed over to your side. Immediately, you wrapped your arms around his waist, your face buried against his stomach as you continued to cry and list your grievances with him.

“Alright, alright, it is my fault I gotten you pregnant,” he agreed. He peered down at the top of your head, smiling when you sniffled against his shirt while he rubbed the back of your head soothingly.

“…dummy…”

“Yes, yes, I’m a dummy,” he continued in a very pacifying tone.

“…A big dummy…”

“Mmhmm…”

“The biggest…”

“Right, right…”

You looked up, suspicious again when he continued to be very agreeable. You yelped in surprise when he immediately grabbed your face and leaned down to steal your lips with his. It took you a few seconds to register that he was kissing you before you gave in, feeling a warmth in your chest at his sudden display of affections.

“What else?” he asked softly when he pulled back a few centimeters, still close enough that his breath brushed against your trembling lips while his eyes locked with yours. You could feel his thumb brushing away the tears that were still on your cheeks.

“…you…”

“Me?”

“Uh huh…”

“What do you want from me?”

“Just you…”

He laughed and kissed your forehead. “Alright, pipsqueak,” he said, “You have me. I am all yours. Forever.”

You guided his hand down to your pregnant belly, smiling when that same look of surprise crossed his face again when he felt the baby kicked. Your smile widened as you answered him, “You’re ours.”

He knelt down on one knee, his large hand still resting over your belly as he smiled back before his eyes drifted down to your stomach. “Yeah,” he said, sighing almost as if in disbelief by this current life he was living, “Both of yours. Forever.”

[obeymeluv]

Being Clever with the Fae (Malleus x Reader, Lilia x Reader, Sebek x Reader)

Pre-established relationship implied. You tell the Diasomnia boys that your world planned for ways to outsmart faes. You pull your trick but you're not sure who won.

Warning: Pepaw Bat's gets a little spicy so be careful.

I'm taking liberties with Sebek's part because he's a neutral for me and I don't know that much about him.

You and Malleus had talked about fae folklore more than once. He was delighted to know fae had something of a presence in your world but was wildly horrified at the misinformation. Out of everything you told him, only a handful were correct:

Don't give your name unless you trust that fae because names have power

Iron will hurt some fae but not all. Iron is more harmful to nocturnal fae than day fae.

Being rude to fae may be the end of you altogether

Partaking in fae food means you open yourself up for a wager

Yes, fae like to play tricks. Expect them and be wary.

Stepping into a fairy circle will summon the fairy who made it.

Just about everything else was wrong. That's why he and Lilia were teaching you what not to do if you came upon the various fae in Twisted Wonderland. Thus far you'd only managed to memorize what herbs kept smaller creatures at bay and how to curry the favor of the various faeries that helped out at NRC. Your current assignment from Lilia was filling out a map of different fae territories and classifying them as 'safe' for humans or 'unsafe'. Each territory had a tree they would love to craft from or loathed to be near and you were expected to know that, too.

Strange stuff but apparently it was important.

They liked to break up the bigger chunks of information with smaller, digestible things like etiquette so it felt more manageable. Malleus was currently instructing you on how to part from a fae in a formal setting as to not incur their wrath.

"Again, Child of Man," he's bowed down until eye level with you, one hand holding yours.

"Light shake, eye contact, nod, slide foot back, squeeze the hand, turn." he's parroting your motions until you turn away. He, instead, draws himself to his full height and observes as you pretend to walk away.

"Excellent," he nods. "But ensure you don't slouch while leaving. It will make some feel as if you don't hold them in high regard."

"That's so--" you roll your eyes. He simply lifts his brow as if to question your mild frustration. You puff your cheeks out and he laughs.

"We can be a bit particular." he agrees.

"To a fault." you smirk.

"Oh?" he's intrigued, eyes twinkling.

"Yeah," you smile. "In my world the fae were known for being literal with their word so you always had to keep something clever in reserve."

"Do tell," Malleus' grin goes from practiced and polite to genuine. A hint of fang shows.

"It's kind of specific though. Depends on that old joke about fae wanting to come for the first born."

"That's not really a joke," Malleus crossed his arms. You can't tell if he's offended or not. "We like the younglings. We're always looking to bring more around to the fae ways. In fact, fae make fantastic guardians because--"

He had a lot to say and you felt the beginnings of a lecture creep up. In some way you felt like you were in trouble. To save yourself, you said, "Just pretend. Then I can show you what we do."

Malleus pretended to make a deal with you. It looked a bit intimidating and official with the magic pulsing in the rickety floorboards of Ramshackle. They were groaning. Shadows danced along his face as pieces of his signature thorned briar wove around your joined hands. "In exchange for the repairs around Ramshackle, you will give your firstborn to me."

You pull him in, his green eyes searching curiously for any hint of what's to come. "Sure! How soon do you want to start working on that? Or do you want to wait a little while?"

All at once the floorboards fell quite. The hum of magic died with a rattle that broke the briar into tiny pieces. A few fell at your feet, the others shooting off into various directions.

Oh. Did he not understand? You thought it was clever! Maybe he was too sheltered to--

His laugh is kind of a snort at first but then you hear it honest and lilting. The hand holding yours slides up your arm and snakes around your waist. You're lifted until your hands find purchase on his shoulders and your legs wrap around whatever they reach. Your heart goes from your chest to your throat when his gloved hands slide down to your thighs as he walks you to your sad couch.

"Now is fine," he's careful to hold his weight above you, silky hair spilling around you and tickling your cheeks. His eyes are bright and boyish, a deadly compliment to his kissable lips.

Well, that technically backfired but if this were a real situation you'd make out just fine because he'd chosen to make out with you instead of curse you.

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

Lilia wanted to focus on physical protection as much as written knowledge when it came to handling fae. You still couldn't wrap your head around the idea of him being a general but he had old photos, a weird mask, and a massive magearm to prove it. You'd picked up quite a few self-defense moves and practiced them regularly. He wanted them to be second nature to you. So here you are, in a designated training room within Diasomnia.

"You just want to cuddle me," you teased, in the familiar position of him being behind you with an arm around your neck. One elbow was planted in your shoulder, the other clasping it at the forearm to make a little prison for you. He gave a reprimanding squeeze, ever mindful of the pressure since you were fully human. Lilia gave a huffy laugh, trying to relax his smile into something more stern as he wove his fingers into your hair. You flinched at the tug and slapped his arm lightly.

"Focus," he couldn't deny himself the simple pleasure of whispering into your ear. If you asked him, it was to throw you off balance and distract you. "What could you do now?"

You thought about just leaning back into him, pressing against him, but you knew that wasn't what he meant. Capitalizing on this moment of closeness, the stillness, to huck him over your shoulder and into the floor crossed your mind but then you'd have to give him a back rub later.

Not that you minded that, either.

"We could make a deal," you leaned back to whisper in his ear even though it hurt your neck a little. You could tell by the way his bangs fluttered that he'd jerked in surprise. Was that a little pink on his cheeks? Before you could nip his pointed ear, Lilia leaned you forward and took his elbow off your shoulder, opting to hold you in a bearhug instead.

"Acceptable in this situation," he managed, clearing his throat when his voice cracked a little. "Although this exercise is supposed to be combat related."

"So make the terms. I can't negotiate a deal that doesn't exist." you try to break his hold, shimmying your shoulders and sliding your feet to see if you could slip away. He lifts you off the ground with an ease that doesn't seem possible with his short, lithe body. You hang there against him as he thinks.

"Your life for that of your firstborn."

A bit dark, wasn't it? Kind of rude, really, you thought. But, your train of thought continued to ramble, he did find Silver somewhere so it didn't seem too unusual that he'd want a kid. Either that, or he was messing with you because you told him that whisking away kids was something fae were known for in your world.

"You can't have a firstborn with your clothes on." you joke.

"That's not true because I found Silver with my--" Lilia drops you when he realizes what you've said. You weren't expecting him to drop you and didn't catch yourself, hissing as you land on your knees. Before you can start complaining or poke fun at him for being an old man he's locked the door. You're bowled over as he rushes over to you, pinning you on your back as he peppers kisses along your throat and collarbone.

He's several bites in and you’re halfway undressed when you think you hear a knock at the door. Lilia begrudgingly peels himself off of you, licking blood from the corner of his lips.

"Father? Are we not going to train today?"

"M'fraid not, my boy," Lilia turns his attention back to you, opening your legs to slip between them. "But you'll be getting a new sparring partner in about nine months."

His red eyes are glowing. They're absolutely beguiling.

"Do they come with therapy?” he hears Silver mumble as you look up at him through your lashes.

He pounces on you again. It was a brilliant, filthy tactic. He's not exactly mad about it. You've earned favor with one fae, at least, and he will protect you from the others.

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

Sebek is a hard worker. He's a product of his environment; he has Baur's straightforwardness, Lilia's dedicated regimens, and his mother's impressive teeth and jaw strength. Lilia thought the best way for you to learn some of the self-defense tactics was to fight someone your size.

Sort of. Sebek seemed to be the better choice since Silver was too sleepy to be a constant threat. And, in Lilia's mind, you should have an easier time fighting a half-fae versus a full fae.

You never noticed how muscular Sebek was until you were under him. He's got corded arms and you can see the muscles of his shoulders flexing under the Diasomnia shirt he chose for the exercise.

You've never seen him in casual clothes! He actually looks very nice. Not as buff as Jack but sturdy in his own way; his chest is broader than you imagined. A solid man.

More than capable of being Malleus' body guard.

You groan as he knocks the air out of you a little. He's on top of you, pressed into your back. He's got one foot braced against the floor, leaning his weight into you. Your arms are pinned at your side courtesy of the one he's snaked underneath you.

When did he flip you over? Asshole, you scrunch your nose in frustration as your cheeks begin to burn. He's an asshole that means well and won't go easy on you, though. He makes sure you learn. You try to inch out from beneath him but he angles his shoulder down and grabs his own wrist, dragging you back to him.

"You're supposed to do something in this situation!" he grumps, "You know how to break this hold!"

You do, but he's heavy and it probably wouldn't work. And he's had a literal lifetime of training versus your handful of months. You've tangled your legs together and used his half-lean to put him on his back. Your kicking like a tipped-over bug and almost free when you remember that his fae half is crocodilian and you might have triggered his death roll tendency.

Out of the corner of your eye you see Sebek's pupils change, the dark of his eye slitting and boring into you. His throat strains like he's growling but you don't hear anything. It trembles against the back of your neck and you're reminded in that moment of just how much bigger he is than you.

How he folds around you and encompasses you.

He opens his mouth, teeth glinting and sharp. "You've bested me," you admit, swallowing thickly as his teeth hover near your shoulder. "Make your deal."

You somehow turn yourself around in his unrelenting squeeze.

Sebek huffs as if he's insulted and you swear you see his teeth dull. His pupils begin to fill out. He's usually loathe to acknowledge his human side, as he'd much rather be full fae, but it serves him in this instance. "I'm not a true fae. Such a thing wouldn't work on me!"

"You have to pretend! Lilia's teaching me how to deal with the fae! You just won't hurt me as much. Maybe." you dare to flash that teasing grin at him and Sebek nearly tears into his own lip because he doesn't know what to do with that wiggly feeling you give him.

Him? Hurt you? Not on purpose. It would go against the core values his grandfather AND Lilia taught him! Any fae caught abusing their spouse would be drawn and quartered, made a public display of. Any human man who chose to do so was no man at all!

Sebek's face feels almost painfully warm. He can feel the heat spreading from his cheeks to his ears. "In an act of benevolence inspired by the great Prince Malleus, I shall spare your delicate human self in exchange for a child. Is that the cliche rubbish you desire?"

Some of his once slicked-back hair has fallen down on his forehead, between his eyes, as if it's disappointed in you too.

"You think our child would be cliche rubbish? Cliche Rubbish Zigvolt? That does NOT sound good! I'm naming the firstborn, you're just helping make it."

"Wha--but I--that's not!" Sebek doesn't know what to say and he hasn't been trained for this. He's careful not to shove you away but untangles himself like a thrown ragdoll. He rolls over sharply, totally fine with hiding his face in the floor. His green hair is in disarray and his arms are limp, stretched out to either side of him.

You laugh, climbing onto his back and raking your nails down it gently. He makes the noise. You're not sure what it is but you've heard it before. It's deep and somehow soothing. He relaxes underneath you as you continue to scratch his back, throwing in a squeeze to his muscles every now and then.

It's not until you're in what would be the small of his back (if he wasn't build so solid and thick) that he raises his head, folds his arms up, and rests his chin on his hands. "You're safe." he can't bear to turn his head and look at you right now. If he did, you'd see how...how...weak and mushy he looked. Sebek snorts through his nose, arching his back in surprise as your hands slide all the way up until you flop on his back and your arms hang off his shoulders.

"Thank you, o' kind Zigvolt!" you hug his neck. "This delicate human appreciates it!"

"And I...appreciate...you." he mumbled slowly, the words a little foreign to him. More scary than foreign, honestly. That heartwarming shyness evaporated in an instant when he pinned you and began a stern lecture about how you should NOT offer to conceive a child with ANY OTHER FAE and what YOU SHOULD HAVE DONE INSTEAD.

You weren't surprised by this. Sebek lectured Silver all the time and Lilia said he was a very informed pupil. You, too, would be informed as it didn't seem like he was letting you go anytime soon.

[cute-little-fly]

Fuck, I relate so much to this it hurts, but seeing other people have this same experiences makes me feel not so alone on this. I realized I have never told my story so I will use this post to do it.

This is how I felt most of my school and high school years, except for a few friends that I managed to do until sixth grade of school and high school. So, in my case I have had friends, I have known what reciprocated friendship is like and that helped me so much. But I have also felt that sensation of being apart from everyone else by an invisible veil. Is very sad. I would really wish that we could be able to have better education as a society.

Even with all its problems for me school was better than high school. I managed to drag some people on my special interests like ants and insects. We fed them in school and got in trouble. I also managed to make everyone in school have a tamagotchi because I was obsessed with them. They sold them very cheap in the corner store near school. But I had to suffer so much before that, and even after that I struggled to maintain and have friends and still I felt appart sometimes. A lot of students came to my school only one year because their school flooded, then, they went away and I was alone again.

I remember I had this one friend in kinder garden whom I clung as if my life depended on it. Then, on first grade she told me she wanted to have more friends, to go and run and play and that basically she probably didn’t enjoy to spend time with me. I let her go, because she wasn’t forced to be with me all the time and I didn’t played like the other kids and I understood that. But I felt so broken. Even after that I expected that one day she would come back and I tried to. I had some friends during that time, short lived, only one was very close that was the queer guy everyone else bullied. I pretended to be his “girlfriend” sometimes, but we were really friends. Then he was put in other section so we could barely see each other and we started to have other friends, but still we kept in some touch and I didn’t felt the same trauma and rejection than with my other friend.

Then, in sixth grade of school I found my real and first girls friend group, they were all new girls that came from other schools for different life situations. They were trying to make me forget about thar friend (we never kept contact but for years, I still tried to befriend her again and again) until that moment I knew that she didn’t deserved me. My self steem was so low and I still clung to her so badly even if she barely talked to me, and I didn’t cared that she didn’t cared how I felt. My new friends made me see that, so I ended being loyal to them because they were the ones that actually cared for me and accepted me completely. They were the ones that supported me with my ants and tamagotchi. I think that was the best year of my childhood.

High school was ok I guess. At least I knew by that time that trying to be someone I wasn’t was not going to work, and that I could wait until I found my people. So I went alone to the high school library every day to read and play board games alone. I had some friend groups before them but didn’t worked, and they told me that I couldn’t hang up with them anymore. Just because I didn’t wanted to do some performance in class. Then, I met my new friends group there, in the next year, at the library. They were from another year, so I could only see them in breaks and after classes. But, it was ok, better than being alone 100% of the time.

I don’t use this blog for much personal stuff, but here I talk about autism sometimes so I figured that from my other blogs here is where it fits most :).

People underestimate how much it fucks you up to be subtly excluded as a kid. I would try to talk to my classmates and be met with disinterest or annoyance. The one friend I had, who I clung to and nodded along to his every word, had other friends he liked just as much or more. And his other friends didn’t care for me at all.

I look back at pictures from the time and see how separated I was from them. I remember knowing I was different. I remember posing questions about the world to the girls playing next to me and realizing that they had never asked the same ones to themselves. That the ways we thought couldn’t be more different.

I kept myself amused with my own fanatical stories and musings in my head. I would wander the playground on a circular path, imagining a friend and being sorely disappointed when it didn’t feel as real as I’d hoped.

There was a bubble separating me from everyone else, thin, and nearly invisible, but with a pearly sheen you could catch under the right conditions. I knew it was there, they knew it was there, and it changed me

[lostinlovingrevery]

Smutty Stuff About Logan: The Reckoning

pt 2 about Logan and cute (and maybe nasty) smut scenarios. Grab your vibrators folks

Logan definitely likes to make a mess. A big mess. He cums a lot, so messes are inevitable. But his kind of mess is the kind where he comes inside, or over your pussy and he just sits and spreads it all over, likes he's in a trance. It sends shocks through you every time his thumb rubs his cum over you clit and stuffs it into your cunt. Is he drooling?

You're on a mission. You and logan get put in a position where you won't be able to go anywhere for awhile. Logan thinks it's a great chance for some bonding. The next thing you know your suit is gonna and Logans been fucking you for two hours. Its when Scott finally clears you both that you have to both quickly get your suits back on and you gotta finish the mission with his cum leaking out. Hes very smug about it (such a perv)

hes big about his cum being on (or in) you in general. it's one of his many ways he likes to "claim" you

making breakfast together, it turns steamy. Now he's pouring whipped cream and syrup over you tits and belly and licking it off you.

He doesn't finished cleaning you when he desperately lunges to kiss you, his chest sticking to your messy body, food covering him. you guys just end up a bunch of lovesick horny fools with syrup and whipped cream. You take turns cleaning each other.

I think Logan wouldn't be a huge masterbater. I think he'd do it out of boredom. Maybe if he was pent up. He'd probably prefer the real thing. But when you come into his life, and you guys aren't sexually together yet- he's yanking his chain nearly every night to the thought of you. An animalistic instinct he just can't control bc if he doesn't get himself off to the thought of you he's going to pounce you (pls do Logan)

Mutual masterbation. You both sit across from each other (or your straddling him) and get off on watching each other. It drives Logan insane. The rule is that you don't touch each other during the session but Logan always breaks that rule

I think Logan has potential to be a peeping tom. He wouldn't do it right away, it starts when you shower and he walks back the bathroom, the doors cracked bc you forgot to shut it- and he catches you in the mirror. You didn't see him.

He's now in his room desperately getting himself off because he's picture you naked hundreds of times but then he just saw a nice view of your tits and they're even better than he imagined

It's not how he imagine he'd get to see you, but he'll take what he can get. Now he searches in moments he could catch a look at you.

One night he catches you masterbating in your bed. You're moaning his name. He could smell your arousal. He nearly blacked out

His claws will pop out at sudden things that arouse him. You're planning to go to the beach, and he sees you in a bikini for the first time. He spots you and snikt! They're out. He didn't even notice, too busy staring at the way you tits looked in that top.

I'm currently writing a fic over this BUT, you don't like alcohol, but when you taste it on Logans lips/tongue, you can't get enough. you quickly discover you really like alcohol, but only when logans spitting it in your mouth.

you gift Logan naughty polaroids. Some are of you scantily clad, others are you just straight nude in sexual positions. He keeps one inside his coat pocket. It's not just cause it turns him on, but he deadass thinks you look so damn beautiful in your natural state. He just gotta be careful of where he is when he looks at it.

Sucking on Old Man Logans dick, you drooling and your eyes are hazy. he tastes so good, and feels so good on your tongue. He's praising you for being a good girl, telling you he's all yours, to enjoy as much as you want. He wants you to get sloppy, to suck on him and forget about everything else. You've made him cum multiple times already, and you're still sucking on him, even as he's soft and gets hard again.

Trilogy Logan ravishing you over and over again. It's been a stressful week, and he suggested you both get away from the mansion the weekend. You got a hotel room- and haven't left the bed other than to use the bathroom, and take a nice romantic (and sexual) bath with Logan. Hes putting you in positions you didn't even know was possible, pounding into you with an animalistic fury, stuffing you full of cum. you should probably consider getting plan b (unless you want a baby)

Having an argument with Worst Logan and you say something that implies that you worried about logan really caring about you, a discreet and quiet anxiety you never told him. Of course, it pisses him off and he has to show you how much he loves you. Which involves hot, rough, and sensual sex. he's fucking you and making you tell him that he loves you and that you believe it over and over.

Riding DOFP Future! Logans lap, after he woke back up in this new life. Hes been begging you to keep riding him, to keep fucking him. Kissing you sloppily as you ran your hands through his hair. You were busy grading papers, but Logan stormed into your office and practically yanked you into your bedroom. he found you, his pretty wife that he lost before he fixed things. Safe to say, reunion sex is fun.

70S! DOFP fucking you in an alleyway by the bar you two were in. "You looked too damn good in there baby. All those boys making eyes at you. Gotta make sure you know you're mine." he moans as he buries himself deep inside you, practically lifting you into the air against the wall

Watching Origins Logan chop wood from your pretty little log cabin. You get an idea, taking off all your clothes and standing on the porch, ass naked and waiting for him to notice. His face is concentrated, a cigar hanging off his lips. He just looked so hot, and you found it funnier the Logan he went not noticing your naked figure. When he finally looked up, the cigar hung off his parted lips almost comedically, before falling as he dropped the axe to his side, and he made his way to run after you, throwing you over his shoulder and bringing into the house as you shriek with laughter. He makes sure to make up for the lack of attention he gave you by stuffing you full of him and eating you out for hours

Having sex on Logans motorcycle. You're riding together when Logan pulls off suddenly, somewhere private. he gets you to sit in front of him, pulling your pants (or your skirt) down. The motorcyle still rumbling he makes you lean down so you could feel the vibrations of it, while he fucks you. Lets just say you don't last long- but logans not ready to stop.

Logan certainly doesn't want you to hurt or be in pain, but a certain amount of pride does hit him when he sees you walking around with shaky legs

This man can eat pussy for days. He'll get lost in you, licking and sucking and licking over and over. You'll have to push him off multiple times before he's done

I did my Logan variants BUT riding around with old man Logan in his car. Your legs across his lip. He's got one hand on the wheel, the other massaging your ankles and feet. He made you feel good, so you move around and give him a handjob and a blow. He pulls over, making you get into his lap and ride him- because he can just never get enough of you

Thigh jobs.

Tit jobs

nuff said

Actually no

Logan gets so damn excited when you offer one of those. Something about being able to fuck a body part that's not technically fuckable

this man would get himself off on every part of you if you'd let him

yes, armpits, elbows, knees included. hes insatiable. and gross. but thats why we love him. keep being a freak baby, i'll be a freak with you

anyway, he's fucking your thighs and you're watching as his tip appears and disappears, his precum soaking your thighs, he cums and shoots it all over your belly.

with titjobs, hes sitting over you, thrusting his cock between your wet tits. he spit all over them to lube everything up. his cum lands all over your face and open mouth

Tying each other up? Yes pls

Logan definitely loves it. Tying you up, having his way with you. I mean, he's strong enough to pin you down of course, buuuut something really fun about watching you be helpless to him

and vice versa

logan doesn't have much self control with you, so tying him up can prove difficult. he ends up breaking through the ribbons, rope, handcuffs- etc to grab you and fuck into you

you finally figure it out though, the way to make him behave

you grabbed his box of prized cubans. expensive, rare. he only smokes them on special occassions. you had him tied up, and blindfolded, taking off the blind fold- you told him the rules

"no touching. no breaking the ropes. if you do, I destroy each one of these."

Logans face fell as he saw his prized cigars. okay, maybe you both knew you really wouldn't...would you?

logan couldn't risk that

powerplay is fun

cue the most torturous session logan has every experience. he swears he'd rather have adamantium bound to his organs this time than what you're doing to him

you're playing with him. like a cat who caught a mouse. your messing with him, edging him, depriving him of your sweet pussy. an hour of sensory play. another hour of edging. He's not sure if he can take it anymore. surely he can find another box of cubans...

but then you reward him for being such a good boy. lots of praise. lots of riding and sucking. lots of kisses. when he finally gets to cum he's begging and thanking you for it

now he's starting to see why you like him being so dominant

you had your fun though. next time, he's putting you through worse :)

that's all folks! I'll make a pt 3 soon, i just got a few other fics i wanna focus on ;)

[boypied]

himbo!ken is absolutely obsessed with you and your love for his muscles. The way you'd do anything he asked of you if he just subtly flexed his biceps, sometimes Ken does it intentionally, but sometimes it's just like a reflex. “You like that baby?” he mumbles out quietly in your ear as your hands grope across his arm, feeling his bicep bulge between your grasp. “I love you.” You mumble back as you trail kisses along his bicep as he chuckles as it tickles slightly.

“You're such a himbo.” You say with a smirk on your face, and Ken's face contorts with confusion. He shrugs off your comment that he didn't really understand but doesn't care that much as he throws his head back, feeling your lips part and suck on his bulging arms, leaving a love-bite. Your hands trail up his body to push open his denim jacket as you feel his perfectly sculpted abs, your eyes flutter back just from the feeling of your fingers dipping in and out of each crevice.

Himbo Ken will always put your pleasure first. Watching your eyes roll back and body quiver in intensive pleasure is what he needs to get off. He loves watching you ride him. That is his utmost favourite sex position that you both do together. Ken loves watching your cock flop around while it's at its hardest state. Another thing that he loves about you riding him is that you always, ALWAYS cum hands free. Squriting your load all over his beautifully sculpted body.

Ken knows that you're the love of his life, he knows that he won't ever find anyone better than you. You're the full package that he needs; perfect boyfriend, perfect in sex, you both have a lot in common. A lot of people wouldn't expect someone like yourself would end up with the sexiest himbo known to man. “I'm just Ken.” he says to you confidently and you just smirk because of how often he says this, you don't comment on it though because he tends to repeat himself without actually realising it.

[woozinhos]

hii I love ur works smmm!!! can I request mingyu dad au and their child asking for another sibling??

Notes: oh my god she’s back with another fic enjoy guys I know it’s not the best but I’m slowly easing back into it <3

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.

You and Mingyu were sitting together on the couch, enjoying a quiet evening at home when your child walked into the room, looking up at you with an innocent expression on their face.

"Mommy, Daddy?" they asked, his voice soft. Mingyu looked down at them, a smile on his face. "What is it, sweetheart?"

He looked between the two of you before speaking again. "Can I ask you guys a question?" Mingyu chuckled, ruffling the child's hair affectionately. "Of course you can, buddy. What's on your mind?" He hesitated for a moment, looking down at the floor before looking back up at you and Mingyu. "Why don't I have any brothers or sisters?" You and Mingyu exchanged a look, surprised by the question. Mingyu cleared his throat, unsure of how to answer.

"Well, sweetheart," he began, "having a baby is a big responsibility. It takes a lot of time and effort to take care of a baby, and it's not always easy." He nodded, looking up at you with wide eyes. "But I'm a good kid, right? And I would be a good brother, wouldn't I?" Mingyu smiled, touched by his words. "Of course you would, buddy. You're the best kid we could ever ask for. But having a baby is more than just being a good kid. It's about being able to share love and attention with another person." You and Mingyu looked at each other again, a silent conversation passing between you. His request was unexpected, but his words made sense.

"We'll think about it, okay?" you said to him, ruffling their hair like Mingyu had done earlier. "But it's not something we can just decide on a whim. It's a big decision that needs to be thought through carefully." He nodded again, accepting your answer. "Okay," he said, a hint of disappointment in his voice. "Goodnight, Mommy. Goodnight, Daddy."

"Goodnight, sweetheart," you and Mingyu chorused, watching as he left the room. Once he was gone, you turned to Mingyu, a thoughtful expression on your face. "Do you think we should actually consider it?" you asked him. Mingyu sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know," he admitted. "I mean, it's definitely something we need to think about. But we already have so much going on with our work and taking care of our child. Another baby would mean even more responsibility."

You nodded, understanding his concerns. "I know what you mean. But at the same time, I can't help but feel a little guilty.He seems so excited about the idea of having a sibling. Maybe we've been holding off on having more kids for too long." Mingyu looked at you, his expression serious but smirking at the same time. "You're right. We've been so focused on our careers and our own lives that we've kind of neglected the idea of having more kids. Maybe it's time we started thinking about it seriously." You raised an eyebrow at Mingyu's smirk. "What are you thinking?" you asked him, a hint of amusement in your voice.

Mingyu leaned in closer to you, his smirk widening. "I'm thinking that maybe we could have some fun trying to make that decision," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. You felt a shiver run down your spine as his words sent a jolt of excitement through you. "Oh, really?" you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. "And how do you propose we do that?" Mingyu's smirk turned into a mischievous grin as he leaned in even closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "Well, we could start by practicing some...unprotected fun," he whispered, his hand sliding up your thigh.

You let out a soft gasp as his hand continued to move higher, your body already responding to his touch. "Mingyu, we're supposed to be thinking about having another baby, not making one right now," you protested weakly. Mingyu chuckled as he continued to kiss your neck, his lips moving slowly and sensually along your skin. "I know, I know," he murmured between kisses. "But can you blame me for wanting you so badly right now?" You shook your head, giving in to the pleasure that his kisses were causing. "No, I suppose I can't," you admitted, tilting your head to give him better access to your neck.

Mingyu lifted you up into his arms, carrying you to the bedroom with ease. He kicked the door shut behind him and gently placed you on the bed, his eyes dark with desire. As you lay on the bed, Mingyu climbed on top of you, his body pressing against yours. He began to kiss you hungrily, his tongue exploring your mouth as his hands roamed over your body. You responded to his kisses with equal fervor, your arms wrapping around his neck as you pulled him closer. The heat between you was building quickly, and you could feel yourself getting lost in the moment.

Mingyu's hands were impatient as he tore at your clothes, his own shirt quickly joining the pile on the floor. His body was taut and muscular, and you couldn't help but run your hands over his chest and abs. He paused for a moment, his eyes roaming over your exposed skin. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice husky with desire. "I want you so badly." You could feel the heat rising between your legs as his words sent a thrill through you. "I want you too," you murmured, reaching up to pull him down for another kiss.

As he pulled his boxers down, you couldn't help but stare at his impressive size. You felt a wave of anticipation wash over you, your body already eager for what was to come. Mingyu saw the look in your eyes and grinned, knowing exactly what you were thinking. "Someone's eager," he teased, his hands moving down to your hips. "I love it when you look at me like that." You let out a soft moan as he positioned himself, the anticipation almost too much to bear. You could feel his hardness against your entrance, and you couldn't wait for him to enter you.

"Ready?" he asked, his voice a low growl in your ear. You nodded, unable to form words, and he slowly began to push himself inside of you. As he filled you, you gasped and clutched at his back, your nails digging into his skin. The sensation was intense, but it felt so good. You could feel yourself adjusting to his size, your body welcoming him in.

Once he was fully inside of you, he paused for a moment, letting you get used to the feeling. "You feel so good," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "So tight and perfect." You let out a soft moan in response, your hips bucking up against him involuntarily. "Move," you urged him, your voice barely above a whisper. He began to move, slowly at first, but quickly picking up speed. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, and you found yourself arching your back, pushing against him. As he moved faster, you could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. Your moans grew louder, and you clutched at him desperately, needing to hold onto something as the pleasure threatened to overwhelm you.

"Shhh, be quiet," he whispered, his voice low and urgent. "We don't want to wake up our boy." He continued to move inside of you, his pace steady but intense. He knew how close you were, and he wanted to draw it out for as long as possible. You bit your lip, trying to stifle your moans as he continued to drive you towards the edge. You could feel the heat building inside of you, and you knew that you were about to explode. Suddenly, you felt yourself tipping over the edge, your body shaking with pleasure as you climaxed. You clutched at him tightly, your fingers digging into his skin as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over you.

"I'm gonna cum," he groaned, his voice strained. "I want you to take it, all of it."

He continued to thrust, his movements becoming more erratic as he approached his own climax. "You're gonna look so beautiful pregnant," he panted. "My baby inside of you..." He suddenly let out a loud moan, his body shuddering as he released himself inside of you. You could feel the warmth spreading through you, and you knew that he was true to his word.

As he finished, he collapsed on top of you, panting heavily. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as you both tried to catch your breath. "That was amazing," he whispered, his voice filled with satisfaction. You nodded, still unable to speak. Your body was tingling all over, and you felt like you were floating on air. You could feel his seed still inside of you, and the thought sent a shiver down your spine.

"Our son's got great ideas," he said, his lips brushing against your hair. "We should thank him later."

[callmeizukunotdeku]

In his time with the League, Damian learned to live with a lot but love very little.

He was surrounded by opulence--that was a power play, a demonstration, more than anything. It was Ra's' way of showing that he had power.

The problem, of course, was how easily power can breed envy and just how much can be taken away by someone with nothing to lose.

From a very young age, his mother taught him to think--to look inside and establish what he cared for--what he would fight for and what he was willing to give up.

Growing up in the League meant that he could love very little and know it was all safe. In case of emergency, whether that be a coup, assassination attempt, what have you, he could take very little with him.

Growing up, Damian loved his mother, her stories, and his sketchbook.

He never strayed too far from either so that, should worst come to worst, he wouldn't have to leave either behind.

Richard had done all he could to unteach that lesson along with many others he learned with the League.

That, of course, had made it all that much harder to leave.

He had to close himself off, teach himself, again, to think--what did he really care about?

What was he willing to leave behind?

He got distracted with thoughts of when did Richard become someone I could leave? and ended up leaving with less than he should have.

The first few days at Tim's were spent in space. Tim didn't neglect him--the two of them ate together, lived together, but Tim still had his classes and Damian's admission to a local school hadn't gone through yet, so, while he spent nights patrolling with Tim, he spent his days alone.

Either he slept or he drew. Sleep, though the easier option to chose, did not come as easy as it used to. Drawing was an outlet to him, a way to filter his emotions into something tangible--prove to himself that they were real--but he didn't want to see the emotions he was feeling. He wasn't sure if he wanted to hide them or hide from them, but his thoughts were not welcome guests in his head, which, of course, made sleeping all the more difficult.

He'd close his eyes, take a deep breath, and drift.

He'd drift and he'd think about how, in moving in with Tim, he learned the difference between living near someone and living with someone.

He learned the difference between patrolling next to someone and patrolling with someone.

It helped him see himself more clearly, but it also helped him see Tim.

He'd always known Tim was a unique fighter. When they were still enemies, it was his unpredictability that made him hard to defeat. Damian could see, now, how that unpredictability was the result of estrangement. Tim was not close enough to Bruce to be trained by him.

He had patrolled once, against orders, and then been sent to be trained by a foreign hand.

Damian could see a part of himself in the way Tim fought. Their styles were dissimilar, but muscle memory was hard to unlearn and it was clear to any educated watcher that the two of them did not fight like Bats.

Still, as Damian patrolled more and more with Tim, they learned to fight together. They did not use the same styles, but then, having different styles meant that they had different strengths and weaknesses, all the better for covering each other's blind spots.

Damian grew to understand Tim in a way he hadn't fully let himself before. As he understood, he began to relax--let himself expand into his room, finish unpacking.

Now, Richard and Tim both had different rules, but one thing the two of them agreed upon was that no one was to enter Damian's room without his permission.

It seemed silly to him--the idea that the space he took up was his even when he had no formal claim to it. What was more, however, was the fact that, once he had finished decorating, he had to sacrifice a bit of his pride.

He wanted Tim to see his new room--truly, he did--and if Tim entered and exited when he pleased, he could just...come in and Damian could mention that the room was fully decorated and see how Tim reacted.

Instead, he had to invite Tim--invite his judgment. It left him more vulnerable than he would have preferred, but he trusted Tim, so, before patrol, one night, he asked, "Timothy? Can I show you something?"

"Of course, Dami. What is it?"

"My room. I finished decorating."

Tim smiled, "Lead the way."

He did, showing Tim the little things he'd added to make his room his--a declaration of his intent to stay, as much for Tim as it was for himself.

Tim followed Damian around the room, adding small complements here and there before stopping. "You kept this?"

He was holding the photo.

"Of course," Damian said, "It was a good day."

Tim smiled at the photo before putting it down.

Damian furrowed his brow, "I...forget--why weren't you in the photograph?"

Tim gave him a curious look, "Because I was the one taking the photo."

Bruce comes back from the dead and wants to make things better. Bruce comes back from the dead and Tim was the one who brought him back, so it's obviously Tim who'll know best how to help him reconnect with everyone.

It's Tim who should give him advice on how to bond with Dick. Dick has always been his idol, after all. Tim would know best how to bring him back, and he does. He gives good advice and the two of them begin to get closer.

So Bruce asks about Jason, too. Asks about how to bring his son back into the fold and Tim wished for a brief and brutal moment that it weren't so obvious who the favorite was.

Tim told Bruce to give Jason his space, to loosen his rules, and make it clear that no matter what the Red Hood did, no matter what the Batman believed in, Jason was always welcome. Bruce would always want him.

It worked. Bruce wasn't surprised. Tim was a special sort of bitter.

Bruce asked again for Damian and Tim had to push down his anger. "That boy tried to kill me," Tim wanted to say. "I hate him and I want you to hate him too so that I can remember a time when we had something in common," Tim didn't say, but he got close.

He instead told Bruce how Damian liked art and animals and loved hearing stories of the wonders of Batman.

He told Bruce just how much Damian loved being Robin. Told Bruce to tell Damian what a good Robin he was.

God bless or maybe damn him, but he did and it worked and Tim wanted to start screaming and clawing at something because that would have never worked if Tim tried it and it wouldn't have stopped Damian from cutting his line--something Bruce did not and would never know about.

Bruce asked about Babs. How should he make sure she knew that she was a part of the family? They they loved her and not just for the work she did?

He asked about Steph. How should he make sure she knew that she was more important than his rules and that, if something else should go wrong, she didn't need to run away?

He asked about Duke. He never got the chance to get to know him before leaving--not as well as he wanted to, at least. How should he let him know that he was just as much a son as everyone else? That, whether or not his parents woke up, he'd always be welcome?

He asked about Cass. How should he show her that he loves her even though he has nothing to teach her? How can he convey how much he cares about her, his first daughter?

Bruce gets brought back from time and he makes things better. He brings his family back together by following Tim's advice.

And Tim?

Tim brings his dad back from the dead and Bruce changes, becomes a better father.

Bruce changes, but not everything can.

That, Tim thinks, is why Bruce never calls Tim his son.

[buckets-and-trees]

I love bed Chem and the follow up!! I’d love to see them bump into each other outside of hook up times - like they’re both in the same coffee shop…and a cute barista is flirting with reader…and Bucky suddenly feels possessive when he sees it happening from across the shop but can’t say anything as they’re just hook up buds and it’s not his place to be jealous 🤭

Even Better Than In My Head

Characters/Pairings: Bucky Barnes x curvy!Millennial female!reader Word Count: 2.9k Summary: Hooking up with Bucky Barnes in the middle of the night has scratched the itch whenever you're craving between your legs, but crossing paths with the man out in the wild in normal life? Much more dangerous than you could have guessed.

Content Warnings: modern AU, hook up culture/bootycall, established sexual relationship

Author Notes: This is a follow-up to Parking Lot Chem and Camaraderie.

Logistical Notes: My first fill for @buckyboybingo (Gym) and my ninth bit for Valentine Storygrams!

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

“This entire table is a masterpiece!” your sister exclaims, thoroughly impressed and overjoyed. “I seriously owe you!”

“You do!” you chide. “You owe me many, many favors.”

“I’d promise my first-born, but that ship has already sailed!” she replies, gesturing at her daughter - your niece - who is currently engaged in some sort of statue tag game with a gaggle of other children her age.

“I’m serious, though. You know you absolutely saved me.”

"I know," you say, waving off her gratitude with a smile. "That's what sisters are for, right?"

You both turn to survey the booth, a riot of pink and red decorations adorning every surface. Heart-shaped cookies, cupcakes with swirling frosting rosettes, raspberry-lemon bars, and delicate palmiers drizzled with white chocolate and heart-shaped sprinkles cover the table in neat, enticing rows.

"Seriously, though," your sister continues, lowering her voice, "this could make or break my campaign for PTA president. The entire board is here, and they're all watching to see how this goes."

You nod, remembering the frantic phone call you'd received two nights ago.

Your sister's voice had been a mix of panic and exhaustion as she explained how her usually angelic toddler had decided to test out his superhero abilities by leaping off the kitchen counter. The result? A nasty gash that required a trip to urgent care and several stitches. But to make matters worse, she’d only been so distracted to allow the failed test-flight of her two-year-old because she’d been trying to figure out why her oven would turn on, but refused to heat up past 180 degrees - nowhere near close enough to take care of her baking needs.

So you agreed - or offered, you really don’t quite remember how this part of the conversation went at this point - to take care of making all the baked goods.

“Couldn't let my favorite sister crash and burn at the Valentine's Day bake sale, could I?"

"I'm your only sister, you goof," she retorts with a laugh. "But again, thank you. I don't know what I would have done without you."

As you're about to respond, your sister's eyes suddenly widen, and a sly grin spreads across her face. She leans in close, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Speaking of paying you back, I think I'm about to start right now."

You follow her gaze across the crowded gymnasium, your curiosity piqued. Through the sea of parents and children, a tall figure is making his way towards your booth. As he draws closer, you can't help but notice how he seems to part the crowd effortlessly, his presence commanding yet somehow warm.

"See that absolutely gorgeous man heading our way?" your sister murmurs, her excitement palpable. "That's Aiden Hartley. He's a single dad, a widower, and practically the perfect gentleman."

You try to maintain your composure as Aiden approaches, but it's difficult not to stare. He's easily over six feet with a build that suggests he's no stranger to the gym. His short blonde hair catches the light, looking almost golden under the fluorescent glare of the school's overhead lighting. Even from a distance, you can see his eyes - a striking shade of green that reminds you of summer leaves.

As Aiden reaches your booth, a warm smile spreads across his face. Your heart skips a beat.

"Ladies," he greets you both, his voice deep and smooth. "I have to say, this spread looks absolutely incredible."

Your sister jumps in, "Oh, it's all thanks to my amazing sister here! Aiden, you haven’t met her yet, but she's the baking genius."

Aiden's gaze returns to you, a spark of interest in those mesmerizing green eyes. "Is that so? Well, I'm thoroughly impressed. I'm Carter’s dad, by the way, he’s in the same class as your niece." He extends his hand.

You introduce yourself, hoping your palm isn't too sweaty as you shake his hand. His grip is firm but gentle, and you can't help but notice how your hand seems to fit very nicely into his.

"So, what would you recommend?" Aiden asks, gesturing to the array of sweets.

“I’d like one of the cupcakes,” the last voice you’re expecting to hear interrupts from just behind you, and you whip around to find yourself face to face with Bucky, the man who has been regularly - if intermittently - wrecking you sexually.

What on earth is he doing here?

Not only is he here, he’s looking devastatingly handsome in a dark blue button-down and jeans. Your breath catches in your throat as memories of your late-night encounter flood your mind.

"One of the chocolate ones," Bucky drawls, his eyes roaming over the baked goods before settling on you with a heated gaze. "Is that a strawberry buttercream on top?"

“Mhmm,” you manage to nod, throat completely dry, brain trying to figure out how to function.

You’re not supposed to be seeing this man in the light of day - does not compute, does not compute.

"Looks like someone's been busy in the kitchen," he adds.

Your sister, oblivious to the tension crackling between you and Bucky, beams at him. "Yes! Isn't it amazing? My sister made everything here."

Bucky's lips curl into a smirk. "Is that so? You’re clearly skilled with your hands - the piping on this frosting is flawless,” he says, handing cash to your sister in exchange for one of the cupcakes.

He brings the treat to his nose, inhaling deeply, his eyes never leaving yours. "Smells divine," he murmurs, voice low enough that only you can hear. Then, with a wink that makes your knees weak, he turns and strides away, weaving through the crowd with the same effortless grace that brought him to your booth. His confident stride draws more than a few appreciative glances from the other parents.

Your sister nudges you with her elbow, breaking you out of your daze. "See, I told you you're too modest with your baking skills," she whispers excitedly. "Bucky Barnes is usually a man of few words, and he dropped plenty just now."

You nod absently, still reeling from Bucky's sudden appearance and the way he'd looked at you. Your mind races, trying to process the conflicting emotions swirling within you. On one hand, there's the familiar spark of desire that Bucky always ignites. On the other, there's a new, tentative flutter of interest as you glance back at Aiden, who's patiently waiting with a warm smile.

Your sister, ever the matchmaker, seamlessly steers the conversation back to Aiden. "So, Aiden, you were asking about recommendations?" She gives you a subtle but pointed look.

You clear your throat. "Right. Well, the raspberry-lemon bars are a personal favorite. They've got just the right balance of sweet and tart."

Aiden's eyes light up. "That sounds perfect. I'll take two, please." As your sister boxes up his order, he turns back to you. "So, do you bake professionally? These look like they could be in a high-end bakery."

You laugh, shaking your head. "Oh no, it's just a hobby. I work in marketing, actually."

"Well, you certainly have a talent for it," Aiden says, his smile warm and genuine. "I can’t wait to try these,” he adds, holding up his box.

As you're about to respond to Aiden's compliment, your sister suddenly gasps and slaps her forehead dramatically. "Oh no! I completely forgot!" She turns to you with an exaggerated look of distress. "The PTA was supposed to set up the face-painting station, but I just realized we left all the supplies in my car!"

You raise an eyebrow, sensing the poorly disguised matchmaking attempt, but play along. "Oh, that's not good. You'd better go take care of that."

Your sister nods vigorously, already backing away from the booth. "Absolutely! Can't have disappointed kids on Valentine's Day!" She pauses, then turns to Aiden with a look of calculated innocence. "Aiden, I hate to impose, but would you mind helping my sister man the booth until I get back? It shouldn't take more than fifteen or twenty minutes.”

Aiden’s eyes flash to you, gleaming with amusement, clearly recognizing your sister's ploy for what it is, but he plays along anyway. "Of course! I'd be more than happy to lend a hand... or take an order or two," he jokes, winking at you.

Your cheeks flush a with heat, but you’re not totally unhappy with her shenanigans.

Your sister rushes off and Aiden takes her place behind the table. As the two of you settle into a rhythm working the table, you can't help but feel a spark of connection. His easy smile and warm demeanor put you at ease, and soon you're chatting effortlessly about everything from your shared love of books to your favorite local restaurants.

"So, marketing, huh?" Aiden asks during a lull. "What kind of projects do you work on?"

You launch into a brief explanation of your latest campaign, surprised at how easily the conversation flows. Aiden listens attentively, asking insightful questions that show he's genuinely interested. His green eyes sparkle with intelligence, and you find yourself drawn in by his charm.

"That sounds fascinating," he says, leaning in slightly. "I'd love to hear more about it sometime. Maybe over coffee?"

Your heart flutters at the invitation, but before you can respond, your eyes are inexplicably drawn across the crowded gymnasium. Through the sea of parents and children, you spot Bucky leaning against the far wall.

He's standing slightly apart from the crowd, his presence both magnetic and aloof. The sleeves of his dark blue plaid shirt are rolled up to his elbows, revealing the corded muscles of his forearms. His hair, usually disheveled when you see him, is neatly combed back into a bun, accentuating the sharp angles of his jaw.

As if sensing your gaze, Bucky's eyes lock with yours from across the room. A slow, knowing smile spreads across his face as he brings the cupcake to his lips. You watch, transfixed, as he takes a deliberate bite, his eyes never leaving yours.

The chocolate cake yields easily, and a smear of pink frosting clings to his upper lip. Your mouth goes dry as you watch his tongue dart out, slowly and purposefully licking away the sweet confection.

The sight sends a jolt of electricity through your body, igniting a fire low in your belly. Memories of that same tongue exploring your most intimate places flood your mind. You can almost feel the ghost of it and press your legs together.

Suddenly aware that you've been staring, you snap your attention back to Aiden, who's looking at you expectantly. You realize he's still waiting for an answer about coffee.

"Oh, um, yes," you stammer, trying to regain your composure. "Coffee sounds great."

Aiden's face lights up with a warm smile. "Wonderful! How about this Saturday?"

You nod, pushing thoughts of Bucky to the back of your mind. "Saturday works for me."

As you exchange numbers with Aiden, you can't help but feel a mix of excitement and guilt. Excitement at the prospect of getting to know this kind, handsome man better. Guilt because you know that no matter how charming Aiden is, a part of you is still thinking about Bucky and the raw, primal energy between you.

About how he probably would have no problem dragging you away to his car and fucking you in the parking lot right now.

You think that’s something Aiden would never do .

The rest of the bake sale passes in good conversation with Aiden, chatting between customers and stealing glances at each other when you think the other isn't looking. You learn that he's an architect, specializing in sustainable design, and his passion for his work is evident in the way his eyes light up as he describes his latest project.

"It's a community center," he explains, his hands moving animatedly as he speaks. "We're incorporating solar panels, rainwater harvesting systems, and even a rooftop garden. The goal is to create a space that not only serves the community but also educates them about sustainable living."

You find yourself genuinely interested, asking questions about the design process and the challenges he faces. As you listen, you can't help but appreciate how different this interaction is from your usual encounters with Bucky. With Aiden, there's a warmth, a sense of connection that’s so natural.

But your gaze drifts regularly to Bucky. Bucky has become attached to a young boy who looks to be about six years old. The resemblance between them is striking – the same strong jawline, the same chestnut brown hair. They grin and laugh together, Bucky follows him around to the face painting, a craft station, poses with him in the photo booth.

All you have ever shared with Bucky is sex. The two of you had given next to no time to small talk even in the first few days of messaging on the hook up app and in your first meet up. You had both made it clear you used each other for sex and didn’t want anything else from the connection.

As the bake sale winds down, your sister finally returns, apologizing profusely for needing to cover the face painting instead of helping at the booth. She winks at you when Aiden isn't looking, clearly pleased with her efforts. Aiden continues to linger, helping to fold up the tablecloth and carry boxes.

This morning you were thoroughly single, no need or with to do much to be otherwise. But now you find yourself torn between two very different men. Aiden, with his warm smile and gentle demeanor, represents the possibility of a genuine connection, of building something meaningful. Your conversation flows easily, and you can't deny the flutter in your chest when he laughs at your jokes.

But then there's Bucky. Your attention drawn back to him over and over, watching as he had interacted with the young boy who must be his son. It's a side of him you've never seen before, and it stirs something unexpected within you. The tenderness in his eyes as he looks at his child is a stark contrast to the raw intensity you're used to seeing when he looks at you.

As you and Aiden start packing up the remaining baked goods, Bucky approaches your booth once more. This time, the little boy is with him, clinging to his hand and looking up at you with wide, curious eyes.

"Hey," Bucky says, his voice smooth and charming. "We wanted to grab a few more treats before you packed up." His eyes flick to Aiden, then back to you, a flash of something - possessiveness? jealousy? - passing over his face.

"Of course," you manage, brightening your voice as you direct your attention to the small boy. "What would you like?"

The little boy tugs on Bucky's hand, pointing at the heart-shaped cookies. "Can I have those, Daddy?"

Your heart does a little flip at hearing Bucky called 'Daddy'. It's such a stark contrast to the Bucky you know - the one who whispers filthy things in your ear as he pounds into you.

"Sure thing, buddy. How about we get a few to take home for later?" Bucky suggests, his voice gentle as he speaks to his son.

You can't help but smile at the interaction as you carefully package up a half dozen of the heart-shaped cookies. As you hand the box to Bucky, your fingers brush against his, sending a whoosh of butterflies through your stomach. His eyes lock with yours, dark and intense, before he glances meaningfully at Aiden.

"Thanks," Bucky says, his voice low. "These look delicious. I'm sure they taste even better than they look." The double meaning in his words is clear, and you feel a flush creeping up your neck.

"I hope you enjoy them," you manage to reply, your voice slightly breathless.

As Bucky turns to leave, his son looks up at you with a shy smile. "Thank you for the treats!”

"You're very welcome, young man," you reply, smiling warmly at the little boy. As they walk away, you can't help but watch Bucky's retreating form, admiring the way his shirt clings to his broad shoulders.

You and Aiden finish packing up the last of the baked goods, and he helps you carry the boxes to your car.

"So, about Saturday," he says as you close the trunk. "There's this great little café downtown that does this stuffed french toast that will send you to heaven. How does that sound?”

You smile at Aiden, genuinely excited about the prospect of getting to know him better. "That sounds wonderful," you reply. "I love a good french toast."

As you exchange details for your upcoming date, you can't help but feel a mix of anticipation and guilt. Aiden is everything you should want - kind, intelligent, and clearly interested in more than just a physical relationship. Yet, as you watch him walk away, your mind drifts back to Bucky.

Later that night, as you're getting ready for bed, your phone buzzes with a text. Your heart races as you see Bucky's name on the screen.

BUCKY: Those cookies were delicious. But not as sweet as your cunt.

You bite your lip, torn between responding and ignoring the message. Before you can decide, another text comes through.

BUCKY: I'm in the neighborhood. Have any of that frosting left?

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[melodyreads]

Our Little Secret

You and Hamzah are in a secret relationship. While you guys kept each other a secret to protect one another, was it really what you both wanted?

Contains: fem reader, angst, confused reader, lack of communication, arguing, happy ending <3

a/n: I appreciate all the love I've received for my most recent works. Hope you guys enjoy this one, it's definitely my best yet.

---

From an outside perspective, there was nothing out of the ordinary about this situation. Just two couples out on a double date. Me, Mandy, Martin, and Hamzah grabbing dinner at our usual pizza spot. Nothing suspicious. Nothing complicated. Just friends catching up.

Mandy waved kindly as she saw me approach their group. Martin stood next to her seemingly making a joke to Hamzah as he stood there with his hands in his pockets wearing a neutral expression on his face. That was, until he saw me arrive.

A familiar feeling of excitement filled my stomach at the look on Hamzah’s face. I wanted to run up to him and throw my arms around him while greeting him with a kiss. He would smile down at me as his left hand placed itself in my back jean pocket.

Except, of course, Martin and Mandy were the only couple actually together. 

I guess you could say me and Hamzah were together too. We basically lived at each other's apartments, always leaving clothes in each other's space. I would wake up to Hamzah’s messy curls aghast on the pillow next to mine. I would plant his face with kisses as he grabbed my waist and pulled me on top of him.  

We were together, but in a, “we don’t want to put a label on it” kind of way. No commitments, no pressure—just what we wanted.

I wasn’t so sure about that anymore.

For me, it was about not wanting anything serious right now. I wanted to protect my relationship with Hamzah, what we had was different than anything I had experienced with boyfriends in the past.

For Hamzah, it had more to do with his online image— he didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable with their fans' inevitable perceptions of you if you two were to date. I joked that he was just playing up the “I’m available” act for his followers. He would always roll his eyes but I’m sure this was part of it.

If people found out we were together, it’d ruin the whole thing. Which is why I had to be extra careful. Even around our best friends.

So imagine my horror when, halfway through dinner, Martin suddenly narrows his eyes at me.

“Hey… isn’t that Hamzah’s sweater?”

The table goes silent and my stomach drops.

I freeze with my pizza halfway to my mouth, my brain scrambling for a response. The oversized grey hoodie I’m wearing is definitely Hamzah’s— the words “nap queen” in black letters I envisioned on my chest made me want to laugh and bury my head in my hands at the same time. I didn’t even think about it when I threw it on before leaving.

It even smelled like him.

I set my pizza down trying to brush it off, “Am I not allowed to wear your guys merch anymore? Y’all should be grateful.” I say acting offended.

Mandy’s eyes flick between me and Hamzah, who—thank god—keeps his expression cool, shoveling food into his mouth as he nodded his head at my response..

Martin, however, is still staring. “I swear that one is yours though, isn’t it Hamzah? It has the exact same material as the one you wear. ”

I let out a short laugh, trying to play it off. “I’m not sure why because this one is mine.” My voice started to shake

Pull it together.

“It looks exactly like Hamzah’s,” Martin insists. He turns to Mandy. “Doesn’t it?”

Mandy shrugs, sipping her drink. “A lot of those hoodies look the same.”

Hamzah finally speaks, his voice casual but just a little too fast. “Yeah, man, it’s just a hoodie. All those hoodies look the same, part of the reason we sold so many.”

Martin still looks unconvinced, but he lets it go, turning his attention back to his food. My entire body is tense, and across the table, I can feel Hamzah suppressing a smirk.

Under the table, his finger interlocks with mine, a slow, deliberate touch that sends a jolt up my spine. I flick my eyes toward him, and there’s something smug in his gaze—something knowing.

I roll my eyes at him, trying to ignore the way my face feels hot.

That was too close.

But the truth is, I kind of love the risk. I love the way we sneak glances at each other when no one’s looking, the way my body reacts when he’s just close enough to touch but doesn’t. I love the late nights, the whispered conversations, the fact that we’re both holding onto something we’re pretending we don’t want to name.

God I wanted him bad.

---

The party was loud—too loud. Music pulsed through the walls, and the mix of voices, laughter, and the occasional clatter of a drink being set down filled the air. Mandy and Martin were off in their own little world, and I had lost track of most people in the crowd.

Hamzah settled next to me "How're you doing?" he asked, leaning down to meet my ears while looking out into the sea of people.

I sighed in response, "Alright, I guess..." I snapped my head to meet Hamzah's dark eyes, "...Can we go home soon?" I asked sticking out my bottom lip. He chuckled before leaning down once more.

"Come with me," he murmured, his voice just low enough for only me to hear.

I barely had time to react before his fingers brushed against my wrist—just a ghost of a touch, but enough to send a jolt through me. Before I knew it, I was being pulled down the hall, away from the noise, away from prying eyes.

He didn’t stop until we were inside an empty room, the door clicking shut behind us. The sudden quiet made my pulse hammer in my ears.

"Wait, what if someone sees?" I whispered, even though I was far too gone to start moving away from him.

Hamzah exhaled, leaning back against the door with a sly look covering his face. His eyes were dark, and the dim lighting cast sharp shadows on his face. "I don't care," he said.

That was a lie. He did care. We both did. That was the whole reason we were keeping this secret.

And yet… here we were.

The tension thickened in the air between us, something unspoken crackling like a wire about to snap. Hamzah's jaw tightened, his fingers twitching at his sides before he finally gave in, stepping closer.

I barely had time to breathe before his hands cupped my face, his touch gentle despite the desperation in his eyes. This was the last look I could register before his lips were on mine.

A slow, deep kiss started, stealing the air from my lungs, and making my heart stutter.

I wanted this. God, I wanted this.

But before I could get too carried away, I thought of where we could have been. Kissing in the middle of a crowd, unwavering concerns about what others around us thought. His hand in mine not hidden beneath a table, but revealed proudly.

The weight of it—the secret, the hiding, the way we only allowed ourselves these moments in the dark—it was all too much.

A sharp pang in my chest pulled me back to reality. Before I could stop myself, I tore away, my breath ragged.

“Hamzah, I—” My voice broke, my hands shaking as I stepped back. “I can’t keep doing this.”

His brows furrowed, his hands hovering in the empty space between us like he wanted to pull me back but knew he shouldn’t. “What do you mean... what's wrong?”

I forced a swallow, blinking hard. “Being with you in secret... it just hurts too much.” My voice was barely above a whisper, but the way Hamzah flinched made it clear he heard every word.

His lips parted, like he was about to say something, but I couldn’t stand there and let him try to fix it with more whispered reassurances, more stolen touches that would only leave me aching for something real.

Before he could even get a word out, I was already out the door.

I pushed past the crowd, the music and chatter barely registering. My chest was tight, my pulse racing. I needed air.

I needed to get out of here.

The cold night air hit me as I stepped outside, but it didn't stop me. As I started to come to terms with what just happened, tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, threatening to spill. I sucked in a sharp breath, hugging my arms around myself, trying to shake the feeling of Hamzah’s hands still lingering on my skin.

Then, I heard determined footsteps tracking behind me.

“Wait.”

Hamzah’s voice.

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself not to turn around. But then his hand caught mine, stopping me in my tracks.

I exhaled shakily as he moved in front of me, his brows furrowed, his expression torn between frustration and desperation. Whatever it was caused your whole body to shudder.

“I don’t want to hide anymore,” he said, his voice rough, his grip tightening just slightly, “Not if it means losing you.”

I swallowed hard, my heart hammering. “What about your whole ‘single guy’ thing? What about—”

“Screw all that,” he cut me off, shaking his head. “None of it matters if it means I can’t be with you. I don’t care who knows.”

The words hit me like a punch to the chest, knocking the air out of me.

I searched his face, looking for hesitation, for doubt. But there was none. Just him—bare, vulnerable, real.

A shaky laugh left my lips, part disbelief, part relief. “Are you sure about this?”

Hamzah let out a soft chuckle, his hand lifting to brush a strand of hair from my face before resting gently against my cheek. “Yeah, I mean it.” His thumb traced my skin, slow and reverent. “I want you. For real.”

I didn’t need any more convincing.

This time, when I reached out and kissed him, I wasn’t thinking about the consequences. About who was watching or who would care. What came next and what the future held.

From now on, we came first.

---

a/n: Hope you'll enjoyed this!!!!! It's so hard to end stories, but I think I'm getting better at it lol. Lmk if you guys want a part two????????

[jjscrybaby]

could you do kook!reader spoiling jj? like, they're surprisingly really good friends and she's always getting stuff that she thinks he might need or want, like he comes over and she's doing skin care and she'll do his, or bringing him lunch, even buying him rings or surf supplies and everytime he gets all choked up and red because she's so sweet to him, just wanting to make him happy, and all his friends tease him for it calling her his sugar mommy and everything (all cutesy, sfw ^^)

jj maybank x kook!fem!reader | fluff | (sweetheart!reader, both are massive simps honestly, reader spending too much money on jj, lotta fluff!)

finally getting to my requests! hope you enjoy baby🩷 after writing this i’ve realised i have an obsession with jj and a sweetheart kook so if anyone has any requests for them i’m allll ears!!

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

One thing about JJ was that he wasn’t used to being spoiled. That made sense, with the way he’d grown up and the people he was friends with. The Pogues all adored each other, but they showed their love with banter and loyalty not with gifts and affection. That was probably the reason he turned into a teenage girl every time you were around, because you always had something for him.

It was a known fact that you had a crush on him, ever since Sarah had started dating John B and dragged you along with her you’d thought JJ was cute. At first, he wasn’t a huge fan of you, you were a Kook and in his eyes that made you the enemy. It only took a few days for that novelty to wear off, once he realised there wasn’t a cruel bone in your body.

It was after a couple months of friendship that the never-ending string of affection began. Showing up to his work with his favourite sandwich in a paper bag — a heart drawn on like you were his mother sending him to kindergarten — buying him a new board after he was complaining about how old his was getting, realising there was hardly any body wash left in the bathroom so ordering three bottles for next day delivery. He’d blush and stammer over his words every single time, you just had that effect on him and he couldn’t work out why.

“There she is, JJ’s sugar mama,” John B teased as you came skipping into the Chateau with a shopping bag in hand; nothing out of the ordinary.

“Shut up,” JJ grumbled, shooting him a look before turning to you. “Hey, sweetheart.”

“Hi, guys,” you beamed, sitting down on the couch beside the blonde. Your knee was bouncing excitedly, just waiting for one of them to ask you what you’d brought.

“What’s in the bag?” John B finally asked, a smirk on his face.

You instantly opened it up, grabbing a shirt from the top to throw his way. You didn’t want him to feel left out, although Sarah spent enough money on him that you didn’t feel quite so guilty for showing up with presents for JJ and nothing for John B.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” John B laughed, catching it with ease. He held it up, grinning at the shirt. You imagined he was similar to JJ in the sense that he didn’t get a lot growing up, although you always smiled in the same way whenever you bought yourself a cute outfit.

“It’s the same colour as your eyes!” You exclaimed, a cheesy smile on your face. You liked treating your friends, it was probably the thing that brought you the most happiness.

“Well, I appreciate it, thanks kid,” John B smiled, standing up to give you a pat on the shoulder. “I’m guessing everything else in there is for Mr Maybank here.”

JJ’s cheeks instantly lit up, looking away to try and cover it before his friend could make fun of him. John B stifled a laugh as you nodded sheepishly. You knew that they’d all worked out how you felt about JJ, you’d always drunkenly told John B and Sarah that you wanted to have his babies so that probably gave it away.

“I’m gonna go try this on,” John B decided, ruffling your hair before disappearing inside the Chateau. JJ took a moment to thank God for that, he hated reacting like an idiot in front of the others.

“You know, us inviting you ‘round doesn’t mean you have to bring presents,” JJ stated, scratching his chin awkwardly.

“I know,” you shrugged. “But I was at the mall, and there was so much cute stuff! I got this skirt, too.” You tugged on the end of your baby pink skirt and he let out a soft laugh.

“Go on then, show me what you got,” he sighed, watching as you squealed and started to empty the shopping bag.

There were at least six new shirts in there, a pair of cargo shorts because he’d ripped his at a kegger, some new rings just because and a sweatshirt he himself had been saving up for. He had the same reaction as always, a lump in his throat as he wondered what he’d done in his past life to deserve such kindness and a blush coating his cheeks as you rambled on about how good you thought he’d look in the shirts.

“Do you like them?” You asked softly, after he’d been silent for longer than usual. Normally, he’d stutter out a thank you, kiss your temple and flip off the Pogues as they laughed at him.

“I— yeah, of course I do, but I don’t know if I want you to keep buyin’ me stuff,” JJ said, running a hand over his face.

He could see the way your smile dropped, a look of confusion and hurt in your eyes. “Why?” You asked quietly.

“Because, babe, I— I can’t return the favour, y’know? I don’t have enough money to go ‘round buying you a bunch of stuff, as much as I’d love to. Makes me feel guilty,” he explained, placing his hand on your arm to show he wasn’t mad.

The hurt faded from your face and instead you gave him a soft smile, one reserved for him. “I don’t want you to buy me stuff, I don’t care about that. I like getting you stuff. Besides, it’s not like you don’t do anything for me.”

“What do I do for you?” He questioned, eyebrows furrowing as he tried to think.

“Lots of stuff! You make my coffees when I stay over, and you give me your extra fries. You scare away the boys at parties and you always say I look pretty,” you listed, this time a blush coated your cheeks.

He’d never really thought about it like that, like he was actually doing something for you. In his mind, he knew you liked a coffee so he’d make you one before waking you. He knew the Wreck’s fries were your favourite, that was a given from the way you’d scoff them down, so when you ran out he didn’t mind sharing. The scaring away boys was more for him, he didn’t want any of them swooping you off your feet whilst he was trying to work out how to do that himself. And calling you pretty? Well, you were.

JJ didn’t say anything, an idea came to mind. He reached behind him, undoing the shark tooth necklace he’d been wearing ever since he could remember. You watched him in confusion as he moved your hair out of the way and did it up, grinning as it rested just above your cleavage.

“I know it ain’t designer or anything, and it probably doesn’t got with any of your outfits, but it’s my favourite—” he cut himself off, watching as tears ran down your cheeks. You threw your arms around him and he was quick to wrap his around your waist, letting out a chuckle. “It was, like, a few dollars. No need for the tears, baby.”

“I love it,” you sniffled into his shoulder.

He felt himself pressing a kiss to your cheek, hand stroking over your back. Maybe one day that kiss would be on your lips, and instead of a stupid necklace he’d be buying you a damn ring. Not today though, today he was content with just knowing you’d be wearing a piece of him.

[lady-lostmind]

GIVE A SHIT

Written for @steddiebingo Kissing Booth Prompt: Dress Up

Rating: T | WC: 631

Thank you @oh-stars for betaing!!

“This is stupid, Buckley. I look like an idiot. This is never going to work.” Eddie’s face scrunches in disgust as he stares in the mirror, tugging at the secondhand suit jacket Robin shoved onto his shoulders. 

Robin rolls her eyes, “You always look like an idiot.” She pulls Eddie to face her and wraps a tie around his neck. “You guys have been dancing around each other for too long. It’s getting ridiculous.”

Eddie scoffs. “And you think this–” He gestures to himself in his best, non-ripped black jeans, black dress shirt, and the stupid fucking jacket. “Is the solution?”

Robin glares at him while she ties the tie. “No. I think you getting your head out of your ass and actually making a move is the solution.” 

“And this is the move? Dressing like some yuppie in a suit!?” 

Robin flicks him on the forehead, grinning meanly when he yelps and rubs the sore spot. “I think actually making an effort and showing Steve you actually give a shit, is the move.” 

Eddie’s face drops. “Is that what he thinks? That I don’t give a shit?” 

Robin sighs and she smoothes out his tie. “Steve doesn’t think anyone gives a shit about him.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Even I have to constantly remind him or he gets all in his head about it and pulls away.” 

Eddie shakes his head, looking down at his ridiculous outfit with a sigh. “Do I buy him flowers?”

He glances back up and sees Robin smiling widely. “I think that’s a great idea.” 

Eddie shows up at Steve’s house with a bouquet of roses, and a baggie of weed, feeling ridiculous as he knocks on the door. He wants to be with Steve. And Robin is right. They’ve been dancing around this for close to a year. But he doesn’t know how to do this. He’s not– He’s never really had a relationship. He’s never really cared that much. He’s never–

Steve opens the door, eyes going wide when he sees Eddie. “Eds, what–”

“I give a shit.” Great. Really solid start, Eddie.

Steve’s brow furrows. “Okay–”

Eddie sighs, pushing past Steve and pushing the flowers to his chest. “These are for you.”

Steve’s eyes go all sparkly as he looks down at the flowers in his hand, a little smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

Eddie starts pacing. “I’m not good at this, okay? I know I’ve probably been fucking this up, majorly, and I’m sorry about that. And I know you deserve better than a trailer trash freak but–”

Steve’s face goes soft. “Eds–”

Eddie shakes his head. “I know, I know. But please, just hear me out, okay? Robin said I have a shot. And I figure she knows. And I know this–” He gestures to himself and the flowers. “Is all a little cheesy and over the top but I do give a shit. About you. I give a lot of shits about you. All the shits, honestly and–”

Steve takes a step forward. “Eds–”

Eddie shakes his head holding his hands out in front of him. “I know I’m probably not what you imagined for your life. I know this is–” He sighs. “I just want you to be happy. And I think that maybe– Maybe I can make you happy. If you give me a chance.”

Steve crosses his arms over his chest with a sigh and Eddie’s heart sinks. “Are you done?”

Eddie stops pacing in front of him, his body slumping in defeat. He knew this was a bad idea. “Yeah. I guess I am.”

Steve smiles, wide and cocky as he strides forward. “Good.” He cups Eddie’s jaw and leans in close. “Because I’m going to kiss you now.”

[whore-ibly-hot]

Tw: Dubcon, coercion, orgasm denial, general guys being icky and manipulative.

(Its kinda ass idk)

Thinking about...

A couple of guys, not really delinquents bit certainly not 'upstanding' citizens just using you for some relief. It's probably after some event, maybe a rock show at some shithole downtown, or maybe you were just getting some snacks with guys you thought were your friends. Not thought, they are your friends, but you couldn't have imagined this.

The first fidgets with the lever of the backseats, trying to get them folded back into the trunk while number twos tugging at your skirt, your tits pressed harshly into the leather of his car. "Cmon, find the fucking lever!" He growls and number one, who raises his hands in defense. "What do you want me to do, its probably your fucking car that let this happen. This shit-bucket probably doesn't even have a lever for the seats anymore."

Number three is driving, slowly finding some small lot with minimal lights in the back of some old building, shifting into park. While the two in back continue to bicker, he makes his way to the front of you. "Are you two sure about this? Seems like going to far." He says, one hand gripping at his pants sleeve with tension.

"You're bricked up too, bro. You aren't exactly the virgin Mary here." Number two pauses, then chuckles. "But, maybe virgin does fit." One cackles too, prompting three to smack the shoulder of two. "You're not scared, are you? You want this plenty, right?" Two asks, squishing your cheeks together in a 'fishy' face with a free hand.

"Don't know." You're scared, tired from the the fun night, unsure why three guys you've always been platonic with are doing this, but you can't deny the aching in your gut, the way your thighs are rubbing a bit against the leather seams of the middle seat and the far right seat. "I'm not sure, you guys-" You yelp, a hard open-palm grazing across the sliver of exposed ass poking from under your slightly ridden up skirt.

"Fuck is wrong with you?" Three asks, suddenly the seat jolts down, making you gasp. "Easy, easy."

"Get that skirt off, I just know she's got a good ass." One's hands push up, grabbing a cheek each amd kneading them as he groans. "Fucking mint, look at this, baby!" One leans so he's over you a bit, hard clothed cock pressing against your ass as he whispers in your ear. "Why'd you hide this thing from us?" He asks.

"I wasn't hiding it-"

"Obviously." Two snarks. "We barely even had to lift this skirt up, you were practically flaunting it."

God, you're aching. Maybe it's half stress, half arousal making you run on adrenaline, but the lack of care they seem to have for how you feel about this is having a primal effect on you.

"Pussy's fat too..." One comments, yanking down the thin panties keeping your soaked lips from him.

"Careful!" You squeak, causing them all to actually pause for a moment. "Its... been a bit."

Two breaks out into a grin, realizing this should mean dwindling protests from you about the way they plan to use you.

"She's not saying yes." Three protests, hand coming to hover over your cunt, effectively blocking his eager friends wandering fingers.

"She said maybe, and look at her!" One tries to get his hands past threes hand. "She's dripping on his leather seats, she's wetter than a bitch in heat.

"Its not like we're holding her down in some alley or something!" Two adds, placing a kiss on your sweaty forehead. "This is loving compared to that. Vanilla stuff." He snips.

Three seems conflicted, eyes downcast as he reluctantly pulls a hand away, moving it to gently rub your back up and down, as if trying to soothe a cat.

"Finally. Glad you decided to knock off the cockblocking." Spreading the lips of your labia, one whistles lowly, dragging a digital from your hole to aroused bud from behind, gently circling once, then twice.

"Shit-" You whisper out, gripping the seat edges with slick hands. You can feel threes hand clench slightly, but you lay your cheek on his knee, casting a flushed and low-lidded glance up at him. This reassures him a little, but your head near his oh-so sensitive inner thigh makes this action also go right to his dick.

"Fingers, how many you want?" One whispers. You just mewl at the feeling of friction on your clit, whining when it suddenly stops. "Wait, wait, okay, two, two!" You exclaim. You jolt forward a bit at the slight intrusion, the digits working you towards a finish, but not at the pace you'd like.

"You're sucking him in like crazy, shit." Two chuckles, leaning to glance behind you. "Makes me wonder what kinda suction you'd have elsewhere." He fidgets with his belt, the sound of a zipper and belt clasp coming undone sounds out, and a snap of boxers being pulled slightly lower. Three looks disgusted as two just winks, taking his own cock in his hand and running his hand over it once, then twice before pressing it forward.

Your lips wet with the slightly sticky red tip he presses to them, prodding once or twice like he's seeking entrance. "You wanna out in? Just give it a taste, I promise I'm not gonna make you take it all the way, baby." Two chuckles as you awkwardly kiss the tip. "That's nice, but I'm not asking you to give it's first kiss." Gripping your hair, he guides it in a bit, groaning. "Yeah, there we go. Right around my cock, use your tongue." You let out a moan as one hits a spot with the tips of his fingers, curled inside. It reverberates around Two's cock, causing him to buck. He keeps his promise, you have to admit, he only bucks forward a bit before pulling his length back out. "You're taking it so fucking good, not gonna bruise your mouth though, she's taking it like a fucking champ, man." He glances at One. "You think she's close?"

"Her pussy's twitching like she's gonna pop any second." The bragging first member slows his pace, causing you to whine and pull your mouth off Two's cock. "Why'd you stop, wait- wait-" You're panting, on the verge of overstimulation and seeking that release rather than focus on all your conflicting feelings.

"Shh, calm down. You'll get your pussy rocked, calm down." Two elbows Three, nodding his head towards the man. He's been stoic since you out your head on his leg, conflicted and sickened, while simultaneously being sickening aroused. "Last chance to jump this, man. I know you want to.." Three just pushes him back, but moves to have you sit up, now facing him. His hands on your cheek. "Breathe. S' okay, you want to stop, or you want to finish this?" He asks.

"Finish it, baby. We'll stroke it over yo-" Three smacks off one, scolding him before turning back to you. "Your choice. Your decision. Don't listen to them." Three reassures you, arms on blocking you in and leaning over you slightly to keep the other two from interfering.

"Finish. I wanna cum, m' aching and-" You buck forward just a bit, and he gets the memo. "Okay, okay. Lay on your back, spread your legs, I'm gonna do the work."

You don't have to be asked twice; laying on the cool leather, this time back down, chest rising. Two hands get your feet tucked around Threes waist, and he lowers down on you. You're so hyper focused on how sensitive you are, and your 'friend'leaning over you you can barely register one and two jerking off, hoping to climax around the time you do.

Three gets himself lined up, but not before placing a few soft kisses on your neck. "I got you. Just forget about those idiots, okay? You and me, I'm taking care of you. I'll let you finish and make em' take you right back home."

You just nod, eyes squeezing tight as he enters. "Ah-" You groan. "You're big, fuck-"

He's not moving. "Too big?"

You shake your head, and he resumes several slow repitions. Eventually, he's fully sheathed, balls smacking against your ass as he thrusts. "Amazing, you feel so good, so good." He grunts. His hands brace on either side of you, but don't grip you harshly like one and two. "Is it good for you?" He asks.

"Up..." is all you can mumble. He gets the hint, angling his cock slightly. Soon, his bulbous tip is hammering that spongy place deep inside you, and you can feel your release finally hitting. "Yes, cumming, I'm finishing-" You start to yell, then gasp at a hot rush of fluids that's aren't your own.

"Holy shit!" Two cackles along with one, as three halts in his movements. "Mister 'i don't wanna, it's not right' might've just knocked you up!"

Your still riding out your orgasm, but three has immediately snapped out of ir. "I didn't mean to, sorry, I didn't-" he's pulling out, immediately smacking two who finished a bit ago. "Its your car, drive. Fucking drive, go to the pharmacy." Two puts his hands up, but obeys.

"M' so sorry." Three says as he sits you up. "I promise I'm clean and stuff, and we're gonna grab plan b, get you some water too-"

"Its okay." You blurt. "Its okay, I know you didn't mean to." Biting your lip, you think about what happened. Of any other guys did this, it'd be horrifying, and you admit it was scary. But... it also wouldn't feel nearly as hot with anyone else. "It was good."

"Hell yeah it was." Both of you were so caught up, you didn't realize One stayed in the back of the car. "Wait till you get a ride on me, baby. I promise I'll be even more of a gentleman. Shit, I'll tell you before it shoot my load in you."

You should go out for late night drives more.

[firealder2005]

I honestly don’t post about any sports all that often. But this Super Bowl compelled me to write this.

Now, right out the gate I will tell you I am a KC Chiefs fan. I was born one. I am a third-generation fan, going back to my grandpa who picked them at 19 when they were a godawful team and barely televised through my mom’s childhood, because only the good teams were televised then — so if they could watch them, it was to watch them get POUNDED.

I got to watch them win a Super Bowl after a 50 year drought. It was an exhilarating feeling, especially since I was constantly picked on at school by a classmate because of my team (he would go out of his way to harass me whenever his team — Ravens, btw — beat the Chiefs. And he was blissfully quiet the whole day after).

I got to see them win another one two years ago, in the affectionately nicknamed Kelce Bowl because of the Kelce brothers playing against each other. That was a fun year.

And another one after that.

Am I all that cut up about them losing this year?

No. I am not. Because I know it’s just a game. The dudebros need to chill out fr.

But I also know that this year…it wasn’t quite just a game, either. There’s other forces at play.

I honestly had no idea that some of the major Chiefs players supported trump until today. Just before I started writing this, in fact. I didn’t know trump wanted them to win either.

There was a bad taste in my mouth when I found that out.

I don’t consider myself to be a fanatic fan. But I am a proud fan. Someone once called me a bandwagon and I got offended.

But. But.

I am not a fan of this. Of the support and cozying up to of fascism, racism, queerphobia, you name it. It boggles my mind too because there are Black players on the Chiefs, there are Black players who CARRY the NFL’s legacy on their backs, and to support the trump administration is to take away their support.

You know what I am a fan of?

The political message of Kendrick Lamar’s halftime show.

I have never listened to any of Kendrick’s discography. I’ve never really been all that into hip hop or rap (my whiteness is showing I know).

Honestly, while I was watching, a lot of what was going on flew over my head. And I also had a hard time hearing the lyrics 🫣 again, not used to this genre of music 😅

But that’s what I thank tumblr for. Tumblr always has a way of bringing the unknown into the spotlight, and expanding my own knowledge on it.

I am very much not knowledgeable on the Black history surrounding Kendrick’s performance. But looking back, with a fresh set of eyes, what I do know and have put in effort to learn starts to be clear.

And I think it was genius. I think Kendrick Lamar’s performance is what saved this Super Bowl for me because I am vastly disappointed in my team right now, and still would have been even if they won.

I do not begrudge the Eagles their win. After all, this was a rematch 😜 Only fair you have your time to shine.

But in all seriousness, I think I prefer a loss to a win simply because I would not be able to enjoy that win knowing what I do now.

Besides. if it comes with the bonus of trump’s night being ruined? having to live with spending TAXPAYER MONEY (my money!!) to go and watch the game only to leave halfway through because Kendrick called him out? good. I can handle the sidelong taunts about the Chiefs and their bad decisions. I am mature enough to see that.

I am mature enough to see that an Eagles win, packed with Kendrick Lamar ripping the right a new one, is a win for us all — Chiefs fans included.

The next four years will be tough. But with such a spectacular performance? The trans flag? The Palestine and Sudan flag? Everything?

I think we have what we need to keep fighting. Kendrick, Chappell Roan, Lady Gaga, all of these artists lending their voices to support those who will be grievously impacted by what comes next is so important, especially at events like the Grammies and the Super Bowl. It shows that people care.

It shows that we can always care.

It’s just a game, yeah. But now it’s so much more.

[celerydays]

long time no see…

Hey, hi, hello~

I don't know if anyone is still around this little blog o' mine or if I'm just showing up suddenly on the dash and whoever is seeing this might not recall ever even following me lol.

But – if you remember me or not – I'm just dropping by to say that I've missed you and that I truly hope you're doing well 🫂💗

I...have not been doing so well. But I've been working on it.

In a way, it's been healing to reshape my approach to things like journaling and capturing photos. I've been taking the time to develop a practice in documenting daily life – the people I care about, the places we visit, and all the random little moments in between – with more intentionality and care than I have in the recent past.

(tw: grief and loss/death under cut)

We lost my mother very suddenly last November – and things have been unbearably hard the last few months.

In a lot of ways, 2024 was one of the best years: my partner and I traveled to Japan for the first time ever, my family had a small reunion in our hometown to watch the total solar eclipse together, my best friends got married, and we went on so many amazing trips and had the type of outings that made me so inspired, optimistic, and excited about life and the future.

But in so many other ways, it was also one of the worst years I've had in a long time: starting with a hard-learned (but perhaps overdue) firsthand lesson and reminder on how scary and mean the internet can be, followed by losing both my grandfather in the spring and then my mother just before the winter holidays.

I'm not particularly good when it comes to emotions– forget about even processing grief or putting into any sort of meaningful words how it all feels. But I guess all of this has made me shift my mindset when it comes to wanting to just...remember. To not forget.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

On documenting life through journaling...

I had always journaled in some way or another all my life, but I only really started considering it a serious practice and hobby sometime around 2020. But I had lost my way with it in recent years, treating it solely as some kind of aesthetic-only venture, and only dedicating the time if I knew that I could make it "pretty" and "palatable for sharing".

And so, many entries were missed; days and weeks lost to fuzzy recollection, months bled into each other, and little moments only existed as vague and passing snapshots on my phone gallery (if I even remembered to take a photo).

But I now wish I had just written it down; whatever it was – big, small, angry, funny, sad, happy – just wrote it all down. It didn't have to be an aesthetically collaged spread or artful doodle or drawing. I wish I had documented some of the last times I had seen or spoken with my mother; what she had said, did, or how she reacted to silly news or quips I told her. I barely remember anything even just from the last year.

So now I write it all down, day after day: I'll write what's on my mind, what we did before, what I'm doing currently, what I'm planning to do. If someone calls or my partner walks in to my studio while I'm working and tells me something that has me reacting in the moment I'll jot down a little "omg!!" or "lol" or "holy shit" next to whatever they said or did.

If I get little scraps from the day – receipts, tags, tickets, wrappers – I'll paste it in wherever it happens to fit in my journal, with a little note of the date or what the outing was. And every so often, I'll print out photos to paste in with notes relating back to past entries or junk journal spreads.

Is always pretty? No, but it's pretty in its chaos. Is it always even chronological? Not at all. Does it always make sense? Not really. But I love every page so, so much more than anything I had carefully curated before in my previous journals.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

On documenting life through photos...

I had once carried a camera with me everywhere before phone cameras became decent enough that I didn't feel the need to have a dedicated tool for just taking pictures anymore.

It wasn't until we were all looking through our collective family photos to use for my mother's memorial service and headstone that it hit me that I just don't take as many pictures as I used to– and when I did, they just don't compare to the ones that I used to take years ago when I did carry a camera with me on every outing and trip.

We ended up choosing a photo of her that I had taken on my once-beloved dSLR camera I used to haul around with me almost 10 years ago; she was smiling, strong, radiant, beautiful– and it was just a random moment I took my camera out in a Taiwan salon while she was waiting as my sister and I were both getting our hair done for our cousin's wedding.

A bit indescribable – and not even something I realized was missing – but there's something about having an actual camera on hand that pushes me to take more photos, and somehow better and more mindful photos at that.

And so I made the decision to invest in a new camera. An absolute necessity to take photos? No, of course not; I do still have my phone camera after all. But they say (apparently) that "the best camera is the one that you actually use"– and I was most definitely not using my phone as much as I could have been.

This new camera though? Only time will truly tell, but the past has shown that I've worked better with a dedicated camera on hand and already I can't begin to explain the difference it's made in the last week alone since I picked up the habit of carrying a camera around with me again.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

This was a crazy long post that sort of got away from me. Not sure where I want to go from here – I guess I just want to say that if you ever felt called to document your life in some way, it's never too late to start; you'll only wish that you had begun sooner.

If you're still here– I love you. I hope you're taking care of yourself.

And thank you for reading along with my incredibly longwinded life update of what was essentially just "I'm grieving so I started journaling more and also bought a camera" lol.

💗

[sunrisecaminus]

Hi I hope you having a wonderful day

May I request some sfw optimus x reader?

Message - I am having a great day actually! Also of course! Got to love the Prime once in a great while! I didn't know what to put as a story so I just made the human have a job.

Optimus x Mechanic Reader SFW

Summary - Optimus having a cute hang out at the human's store!

Warning - Very adorable!

Type of fic - Fluff

You have never had to fix so many vehicles before, until you met the Autobots. You never wanted to tell them, but Cybertronian anatomy was actually easy to learn to help Ratchet with the minor injuries these idiots get from missions. You own your very own Mechanic shop and the bots just make it less boring when they come to visit. Optimus was very respectful to you and rarely visits, but after some deep discussions you both have with each other, he will come by to see you a lot more now a days.

Right now you are giving an oil change for someone when you see from the corner of your eye the red, white and blue truck pulling up. The smile that grew on your face said it all and you finished the guys truck, got paid, and let him leave your garage. Walking outside with your o/c overalls (overall color), you pat the front of the hood and greet your big truck friend. "Hi big guy! What you in for?" You wait patiently as he transforms and looks around. "Hello y/n. I came to drop off some parts for your work. Agent Fowler said it's for Bumblebee when he comes in."

You have lifted so much weight off Ratchet's back by giving the mechs their own check ups and basic plating care routines. You have noticed that you haven't given Optimus a full check yet, but you figured it was because the man was very private about his body. You heard from a lot of his friends that he rarely likes to be touched and they blame it on him being a Prime. It didn't matter to you though, you just wanted him to feel comfortable around his new environments and relax. "Well why don't you come in? I closed for the night so no one is coming around anytime soon." Your shop close really late and it's in the middle of no where. Just outside of Jasper was just your mechanic shop, a mini gas station, and the desert. You liked how peaceful it was here, and the autobot base is actually close by, so anytime the kids need a place to stay they could always come to you for a sleep over. You lived in the back of your shop, but you didn't mind. It was like a cozy apartment inside your home with a tv, kitchen, bedroom, and your own bathroom so you didn't need to use the shops public restroom. It wasn't much, but the quiet nature of it made it feel like a luxury to you. Anyway Optimus walks over and sits just outside of the garage as you pull up a chair and grab your microwaved dinner. "So, any new stories you need to tell me? How are the kids?"

You both talk for what seemed like hours. It was so nice to get to be with him again, but what you didn't know is he felt the same way about you. You listened to everything he said and gave such good advice. What he loved most about humans was their empathy, and you had a lot of it. You played a lot of music with your vintage record player and he loved to just close his eyes and listen to the sweet music…made him forget about the war for a few hours. You NEVER talked about the war with him, unless he talked about it first. Being the person you were, you never wanted to talk to someone about deep things unless they initiated it first, a lot of people find dark topics to be uncomfortable to talk about and you knew Optimus was an awkward person. "Hey, thanks for the shipment. Speaking of, I have some new tires for you if you ever wanted to get some new ones yourself. Treat yourself and get something good once in a while to make you feel better." You eat your food, waiting for an answer as he got quiet to think about it. "I don't want to bother you about it y/n. It's very late." He spoke to you like he was such a nuisance. You wanted to change that ever since this man met you. Standing up, you grab your tool box and throw your empty container into the trash. "Transform and come on in, I can hook you up with some good classic black tires! Nothing flashy I promise."

He obeyed and did just that, transforming, and driving inside your garage. He has never done this before, so he may be a little nervous doing this with a human mechanic. It's not that he didn't trust you personally, he was just worried a human wouldn't know how to change Cybertronian tires. What Optimus didn't know, was that you have been taking classes from Ratchet and reading books in translation to help yourself understand how to do everything. You already practice changing tired on Bumblebee and Arcee, so this was going to be a piece of cake for you. Opening the tool box you walk over and hook him onto the big machine. He didn't know what it was for at first until his entire body gets lifted a few feet off the ground. "Are you sure this will hold?" You chuckle from how anxious he was and pat his bumper. "You'll be fine I promise, Fowler hooked me up with some expensive tech so this baby can hold a plane." You put on gloves and start to get to work.

After about two hours, you clean off the last tire and lower him to the ground. He was a big mech so you made sure you lowered him slowly and you see the tires pressing against the shops floors. "Aaaaaand we are done! Now I already sprayed them and put some air in them so you won't have to come back for another check up in-" You interrupt yourself when you heard nothing coming out of him. You could sense that he wasn't listening so you press your hand on his door. "Hey, you ok? Optimus?" That was when you heard a soft noise coming out of his engine…he was asleep. You smiled from the cute moment that is happening right now and you grab a tarp from the back. It was a nice giant blue tarp that is used to protect vehicles from weather conditions as you draped it over his entire body. Going inside the kitchen, you make yourself a cup of hot chocolate as you go back outside into the garage to sit yourself by the desk you have. You take a sip of the mug and place it on the table, grabbing a pen to start drawing for your next blueprint idea. You look back at the sleeping prime that was in your garage. "Sweet dreams Optimus…love you." You go back to work as what you don't see is him flustered on the inside. He woke up when you gave him the blanket…and now he plans to visit you everyday from now on.

[glowettee]

the secret to taking notes that make you want to study ✧˖°

hey lovelies! mindy heree <3

for this post i'm superrr excited to share a guide on taking notes that make you want to study ✧˖° trust me, i know how overwhelming it can get when it feels like you're stuck in the middle of endless textbooks and dry lecture slides (honestly, we all have those days). so, let's transform your note taking into something delightful, empowering, and totally reflective of your unique self.

✧ finding your vibe first things first, bestie: the key here is to make your notes feel personal and inspiring. rather than sticking to a rigid system, i suggest mixing a little structure with a whole lot of creativity. here are some steps to help you set up your perfect note taking vibe:

choose your medium: even if it’s a cute pastel notebook, sticky notes, or a digital app with fun themes, pick something that sparks joy and invites you to open it up. i personally love notion + remnote + coda

establish sections: break your notes into clear sections. introduction, main points, and summary. this not only boosts organization but also gives you a gratifying sense of progress every time you finish a page.

add your signature touch: doodles, small illustrations, or even a decorative border can make a note feel less like a chore and more like a mini art project. i love using aesthetic symbols for my digital notes <3

✧ creating a study ritual i believe that great notes come from a relaxed and focused mind. try integrating these rituals into your study sessions to set a positive tone, this is really important if you want to make note-taking fun:

begin with a short breathing exercise or a moment of gratitude (think of it as your pre-study pep talk).

play some light instrumental music or your favorite lo-fi beats, or playlist. something to keep your mind in a creative zone without distractions. (i have a great playlist i made that i use for tackling assignments here: 𝒸𝒽𝑒𝒸𝓀, 𝒸𝒽𝑒𝒸𝓀, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒸𝒽𝑒𝒸𝓀! <3)

grab your favorite beverage (i’m a fan of herbal tea or a cute iced coffee) and make sure you're comfortable. a little self-care goes a long way!

✧ structuring your notes for clarity a well-organized layout makes reviewing notes less daunting and more interactive. and obviously so much more fun, consider using this format for a balanced + demureee approach:

start with a title and date: it grounds your notes and gives you a quick reference.

write a brief summary of the topic: in your own words, capture the essence of what you’re about to learn. just summarize it as best as possible

list key points: use bullet points, numbered lists, or even headers for different subtopics. tip: use cute symbols for bullet points

highlight examples: it can be a quote, a definition, or an application concept, mark these with a star or a cute icon.

close with a reflection: jot down any questions, what you found most interesting, or even a mini action item related to the topic. this is your space for self-talk and reflection.

✧ turning notes into interactive canvases (cause we need it) notes aren’t meant to be static pages floating in an endless binder. make them interactive to truly boost your study sessions:

include thought-provoking questions: ask yourself things like “what would elle woods do?” (lol, we love her <3) or “how does this connect with real life?” to spark critical thinking.

add mini quizzes: at the end of each section, write one or two questions that challenge you to recall key points.

leave room for updates: as you learn more, come back and add extra notes, doodles, or even inspirational stickers (yes, just like in a scrapbook!).

✧ personal tips from mindy because i want you to shine in every note you take, here are my totally secret, fun tips to elevate your note routine:

secret tip #1: color with purpose choose a color palette that not only looks cute but also maps out different themes in your subject. use one color for definitions, another for examples, and maybe a sparkly tone for key takeaways. over time, these colors will trigger your memory (i promise, it really works!).

secret tip #2: integrate affirmations studying can be stressful sometimes, so why not lace your notes with a few tender affirmations? write a quick pep talk (like “i got this, bestie” or “every detail counts”) in a corner. it might seem small, but these little lines can boost your confidence when you need it most. and it's just so freaking cute <3 affirmations from you to you, is like a love letter to yourself, so just try it

secret tip #3: try mind mapping if you’re more of a visual learner, create mind maps instead of linear notes. start with the main topic in the center and branch out with related ideas and details. this not only makes your notes dynamic but also helps you see connections between concepts (ever notice how some subjects just click with a visual flow?).

secret tip #4: use digital tools creatively if you’re leaning towards digital note taking, like me, experiment with apps that support drawing, voice notes, and even embedded links. add images that resonate with the topic or short videos for a quick concept refresher. making your digital notebook interactive can really keep boredom at bay.

secret tip #5: schedule weekly note reviews set aside a bit of time every week to revisit your notes. treat it as a mini self-study session where you update, add reflections, or even reorganize sections for clarity. this habit not only reinforces your learning but also lets you see your own progress over time, like looking back on how far you’ve come.

✧ action items for the week (it's homework timeee) to wrap things up, here are a few steps to try:

pick one class or topic this week and redo your notes using one or two of these tips (maybe add a mind map or a quick quiz).

experiment with color coding: choose colors that resonate with you and assign them to key points or sections.

schedule a 10-minute review session at the end of the week to refresh and reflect on your notes.

share your progress with a friend or even a study group to celebrate little victories. accountability can boost your motivation!

note: note taking is a creative process that should feel as refreshing and inspiring as a new day. keep experimenting until you find what truly works for you. i hope these tips help you get excited about every page you write on.

xoxo, mindy

I made this amazzinggg playlist (as mentioned earlier in the post) and its specifically made to help you complete homework + assignments. i curated it to make sure its soft music to help you focus <3 love from mindyyy 🩷

don't forget, if you need personal advice, submit it here and i'll answer it as a detailed tumblr blog post <3: https://bit.ly/glowetteehotline