#familiarity is good for the sadness brain

[shouts-into-the-void]

Horror Media Analysis Videos to Cure My Depression ✌🏻

[gerryrigged]

okay but following up on this gorgeous art and potential Dick-infiltrates-a-harem fic

what if it's like a trafficking situation and once he infiltrates he's constantly trying to draw all attention to himself to protect the other people there until the rescue operation can kick off. Just the flashiest, most gorgeously seductive outfits and behavior.

And he's successful at it, too - it's less nauseating to him when he can treat it as a performance, distance himself from it, weaponize the looks and charisma that have drawn him attention (both wanted and really, really unwanted) his entire life. When he can use the helpless attraction that people react to him with in order to draw the master's gaze away from those less equipped to handle it, less able to protect themselves.

he's especially trying to shield this younger boy, who is dangerously, magnetically beautiful, and who was very obviously - very unfortunately - The Favorite until Dick arrived. He even looks a bit similar to Dick, superficially - soft black hair, and pale blue eyes that sharpen so keenly whenever his gaze catches on Dick. So unlike the hazy, half-lidded look he's always giving the master.

Watching that man put his filthy hands all over the kid makes Dick feel sick. He re-doubles his efforts to never let them be alone, barely even wearing clothes anymore to catch and keep the master's eye on him, instead.

only for Tim to be like. So I know you're new here, and this protectiveness is...really sweet and kind and everything, but. You're stealing my shtick. I'm the self-sacrificial lamb protecting everyone else around here by drawing away the worst of the attention. I can take care of myself, you don't have to...put on that act, put yourself in the line of fire - not for me.

And Dick is like yes I do - at least until I can get you all out of here. god, you shouldn't have to do any of that either, I want to break his hand every time he touches you--

And Tim is like I knew it, I knew you had to be either a cop or a vigilante, okay what's the plan, I'm fully on board, here's all the security information and blackmail I've been gathering, we're burning this place to the ground, right?

Dick: --Absolutely we are 🥺💘

.......Okay but what if it's Ra's' harem

[cookie-dough-writes]

They should make a support group for kids who had too much unrestricted internet access as a kid because it is just so complex. I also do not want to bring up pony.MOV in an expensive therapy session.

[sweetandglovelyart]

Might be showing my age a little bit here, but did any of you guys also play Super Princess Peach on the DS when you were kids? It was one of my favorite DS games when I was younger, and the impending release of Princess Peach Showtime has gotten me thinking about it again. I still have my cartridge for it, and I also still have the original case and instruction booklet that came with it.

Even after all these years it still works too! Can’t believe that this game is almost twenty years old!

[arolesbianism]

I've been listening to hero by mili all day I need to kill myself right now. The Quixote <3

[nereidprinc3ss]

baby names

in which spencer comforts you after you wake from a good dream about becoming a mother

fluff! warnings/tags: fem!reader, reader sort of wants to be a mom sort of doesn't, they discuss having a child in the future, talk of pregnancy stuff, I think that's it! a/n: another short sweet fluff piece that is by no means going to get me a pulitzer but is cute nonetheless!! love u!!! let me know if u enjoyed!!

Spencer wasn’t in the room when you fell asleep into an impromptu nap, induced by the pattering rain, the low light of your bedside lamp, the warmth of your favorite throw blanket—but he is when you wake up. Home from work, sprawled on the bed next to you, long legs crossed and as close as he thought he could get without disturbing your slumber. 

“You came home,” you whisper groggily, curling into his side and letting your sleepy eyes flutter shut again. 

He pulls you closer against him, rubbing your arm. “I always do.” A low, affectionate chuckle that buzzes from his chest and dizzies you. “You tired?”

You hum a distant affirmation. Visions of diaphanous pink, of sweet cooing, of a haloed Spencer doused in warm light and smiling down at a some blanket-bundled creature in his arms, still burn behind your eyelids, fading with every passing second. The gentle classical music you’d been playing earlier now blends with the sound of evening rain tapping ceaselessly against the window. Spencer is warm next to you, scent familiar and comforting and only contributing to your drowsiness—but a lingering sort of sadness still claws at your stomach. Emptiness. It bites like a shock of icy water. It’s just a small thing. You feel silly for being upset, but you are upset, and you want to tell him. 

“I had weird dreams.”

Spencer offers a hum of his own (perhaps a habit you’d picked up from him) and you open your eyes, watching him watch the rain. The stark angle of his jaw, the sweet slope of his nose. Any baby he had a hand in creating would be absolutely cherubic. “You know, Carl Jung said dreams are hidden door in the deepest and most intimate sanctum of the soul.”

You fiddle with the knit of his sweater, and he covers your hand with his own, looking back down at you, deep eyes full of easy contentment. Like as long as you’re together, he can’t imagine a thing to be worried about. 

“Wait—the dreams are the door? Where does the door go?”

His brows pinch slightly as he recalls what is no doubt an exact quotation. 

“Uh—he said they led to a primeval cosmic night, that is soul long before there was conscious ego, and will be soul far beyond what a conscious ego could ever reach.”

You frown, sleepy head aching as you twist your brain into knots trying to decode the ornate language. “Was he the weird incest-y one?”

Spencer chuckles again. “Nope. That was Freud. Jung was essentially saying that there is something primal and instinctual about our dreams. He said they were our way of accessing the unconscious, which can process things the conscious psyche can’t, and our consciousness was a ship on the great sea of unconsciousness.”

“You’re losing me, Dr. Reid.”

The corner of his mouth flickers up. 

“He just meant they offered us an unbiased look at our lives. Our desires, our needs, unburdened by conscious ego.”

Our desires. Our needs. 

You chew your lip. 

“What does dreaming about having a baby mean?”

You say it because Spencer is your closest friend as well as your partner and you trust him completely with every thought in your head—but the way his hand pauses on your arm makes you nervous. 

He takes a moment to dissect your answer, digging for a hidden meaning like a precious gem, and then, once he decides there are no landmines, proceeds cautiously. 

“Well… some people say that a baby in your dream is a representation of you. It could indicate a desire to nurture, or a need to be nurtured.” Again you make a noise of vague acknowledgement. His hand starts back up again on your arm, and he delves gently deeper. “Why? Did you dream about having a baby?”

For a moment, you can only nod. Suddenly you��re choked up, releasing an exhaled, “Yeah,” as tears cloud your vision. He gives you a moment, just holding you as you try to find the words to continue. “It felt really real. I mean—I think I knew it wasn’t, but I was so happy that I didn’t care. I—she—” You laugh tearfully. “I’m being ridiculous, I know, I just… I miss her. Is that crazy?”

“That’s not crazy,” he says quietly. A stretch of silence follows, and the brief deluge of tears fades to trickling stop. Spencer is probably used to you enough so that he’s not surprised when you huff dramatically, trying to dispel your melancholia with a hefty dose of drama. 

“I wanna have a baby!”

Your boyfriend releases a surprised laugh as you bury your head against his chest, but it only takes him half a second to root his hand in your hair and hold you there. 

“Because of your dream?”

“Yes!” You sniffle into his sweater. “She was so perfect, ’nd sweet. I wanna have a baby so much.”

“With who?”

You look up at him tearfully and visibly frustrated. His eyes betray only fondness. “You, Spencer! Who else?”

“No one! No one else.”

You collapse again, satisfied with his answer. 

“You were such a good dad. It was—oh my god, you were so happy. You were holding her, and smiling at her, and—can we please have a baby?”

“Oh, sweet girl,” he coos, half chuckle, voice tinged with pity. His hand sweeps over and over your hair in a soothing pattern. 

You pout, hiding even further away against him. “That’s not an answer.”

“We can’t have a baby right this second, if that’s what you’re asking me.”

“Why not?”

He hums, pretending to consider the question, hand still carding gently through your locks, detangling. 

“You’re not pregnant, for one thing.”

“I might be.”

“I doubt it.”

“I could be.”

He angles your head up, smiling. Those warm brown eyes of his are full to the brim with sparkly affection. “Do you have something to tell me?”

“No, I’m saying, we could have a baby.”

The curve of his mouth lessens though doesn’t entirely dissipate, and the subtle lines next to his eyes soften as he regards you. There are a thousand reasons you shouldn’t have a baby right now, but Spencer knows you know that, and it’s still not what you want to hear right this second. 

“We could.”

He’s not being serious, but your heart flutters anyway. 

“Really?”

“Sure. Sounds like you have it all figured out.”

“Spencer. I’m not joking. You’re not taking me seriously.”

Spencer pulls you closer, and though you’re mildly annoyed, you allow it with a huff. 

“I am taking you seriously. Like the plague.”

“I know you want kids.”

“I do.”

“We can have kids.”

“Angel. We have time. I believe that you want a baby, and I’m overjoyed that you want one with me. And you know we’d need more time to talk about it.”

Of course, you probably will change your mind tomorrow, and again the next day, and Spencer will love you then and every time you change your mind thereafter. 

“Do you love me?” You ask softly, bunching the fabric of his shirt in your hand and not looking at him. Just to make sure. His eyes are liquid adoration on you. 

“More than anything in the whole world.” And maybe, you think, you’re okay with keeping it that way. For just a bit longer, at least. Spencer squeezes your arm. “I do think you’ll get to meet her again one day. I’ll get to meet her.”

You smile to yourself, imagining your little dreamy baby girl back in your arms. “One day.”

He kisses the top of your head. 

“Did we name her in your dream?”

“Elizabeth. But only because in my dream your mom’s name was Elizabeth, for some reason? I don’t… I can’t explain that.”

“Hm... I love my mom, but I don't know if I'd want to name my baby Diana. Feels too prophetic.”

“Hold on, I have like, a hundred baby name ideas. Can you hand me my phone? I’m gonna tell you all of them. First and middle name combinations.”

Spencer reaches for your phone on the side table. “Boy and girl?”

You scoff, settling into the crook of his arm, head on his shoulder, so he can see your phone screen. 

“We’re not having a boy, Spencer.”

“Oh. My mistake.”

You smile and tangle your legs with his, searching through your notes app with your non-dominant hand for your list of ridiculous baby names. 

“I can’t believe you would even suggest that. You're obviously going to be a girl dad.”

“Am I?”

“Yes! Oh my god, I’m so glad I'm not pregnant because you’re clearly not ready. You have a lot to learn. Okay, how does Artemisia Valencia October Reid sound to you?”

You’re lucky he loves you so much.

[monstersflashlight]

Commission for @ilove-hatethecw

A/N: Thank you so much for commissioning! Means a lot and this was such a sweet story to write. Hope you like it! <3

Request: An orc x human, where the reader is a human princess who married the orc in an arranged political marriage. The orc is rather distant because he believes that the reader wouldn’t want him romantically or physically because he’s so large and thinks that she finds him brutish. But she actually is really really attracted to him. Maybe add some breeding and size kink in there.

The princess desire

Orc x fem!reader || size kink, breeding, really fluffy (but filthy)

When the senate told your dad you were to marry the orc king for political reasons, you were resigned. Not ready to marry yet, enjoying your freedom way too much for a marriage with an unknown orc. But a part of you, the part that awoke at night when you were alone with your thoughts and fantasies… that part was more than happy.

As an avid romance reader, you were more than familiar with orc romances. You knew of them, but had never seen one in person. But good goddess did you want to. You had a thousand of fantasies involving orcs, and knowing you were to marry to one? That was more than enough to make you shake with anticipation.

You saw him before he saw you, big and beefy and completely and utterly hot. He filled all your fantasies and a bit more, you didn’t know how good he could look, how attracted you’d really feel to your husband to be until that moment. And your needy clit made you very aware of your husband. But when the reality of marriage came to be, you weren’t expecting it.

It wasn’t reciprocal. Your husband didn’t touch you, you talked a lot after the wedding. You shared meals and conversations, and you became really good friends, but he didn’t seek you out… sexually. He didn’t sleep with you. He didn’t want you as his wife… And that hurt. That hurt a whole lot. But after the sadness, the anger arose.

You were having a nice tea and biscuits when you broke down and asked: “Why wouldn’t you fuck me? It’s because I’m human?” You tried not to sound self-conscious, but you failed, a spark of hurt still shining through your anger.

He bit on the pastries he was eating, coughing as he let out a choked: “What?” He looked dumbfounded, like he wasn’t expecting that from you.

“You don’t like humans? You don’t find me attractive?” You pressed, tears filling your eyes as you tried to stop them from falling down your face.

You didn’t want to be pushy, but you really needed to know if your husband didn’t like you at all in that way. You knew it was a political affair, but you wanted more. You liked him, you liked him a whole lot… You loved him. And you wanted him to want you back, in every way it mattered.

He looked so confused that in any other circumstances you would have found him adorable. “What?! No. Yes,” he stuttered, looking at you like deer caught in headlights. “Yes, I find you very attractive,” he finally confessed, his face deep green as he blushed.

You tried to make it make sense in your brain, not understanding why he hadn’t acted on that then. “Then why aren’t we fucking like rabbits?” You asked, confusion bleeding into your tone.

“What? I- I thought you didn���t want that. I thought… I though you didn’t like me that way. You… You are cute and little and human and… I’m harsh and rough and brutish, too big for you. Too ugly.” Your heart broke a tiny bit at his words, suddenly understanding that the problem was never you. He was insecure and you didn’t realize soon enough.

Your protective instincts arose instantly. “Who said that?”

“I- Nobody.” His insecurities were more clear than ever.

You softened your tone to ask him: “Then why would you think that?”

“I don’t know… You are just so pretty and so great and I love you so much.” He realized a second too late what he just said, covering his mouth and his tusks with a big hand, his eyes as big as plates as he looked at you waiting for a reaction.

Your brain was short-circuiting at his words, not fully believing him. “You love me?” You asked, insecurity showing more than you’d like.

He thought about it for a couple seconds, your heart racing as fast as it could. “I do,” he finally answered, making the butterflies in your stomach go wild.

“Great. Because I love you, too,” you confessed back, surprising both of you. You weren’t planning on telling him like that, but it was out in the world now. And then everything was clear, and you needed one thing more than you needed air. “Now, are you going to fuck me or what?” You have enough time to pull your dress over your head before he’s over you, grabbing you by the waist and throwing you over his shoulder.

He walked to your room in long strides as you groped his ass, and he grunted. “You are playing with fire, little bride.” You did it again, smacking his hard ass as seeing it jiggle as you giggled.

“I want to get burned,” you teased him in return as you got closer to your room.

He threw you over the bed and undressed as you bounced up and down the mattress. He unwrapped his body like it was the best gift of your life and you licked your lips as he approached you like you were nothing more than prey to him. Your pussy getting instantly wet.

You licked your lips again, checking him out completely, his dick hard and huge hanging between his legs like an offering for you. “Fuck me, husband.”

He crawled over your body like he was savoring every second of it, his nostrils flaring as he smelled your desire in the air, groaning. “You don’t know what you do to me, do you?” He asked, his face dark green and his tusks gleaming under the sun coming from the window.

You reached down and jerked his dark green dick. “I have an idea.” You chuckled, his dick twitched in your hands as he grunted, kissing down your neck.

He ravished your boobs as you groaned, his tusks feeling dangerous against your tender skin, making everything more intense. He traveled down your body, kissing and licking your skin as he told you how pretty you were, how soft and wonderful. How much he wanted to be buried inside of you until you were leaking cum, a blabbering mess under him.

When he reached your pussy, you groaned as his tusks framed your pussy and his tongue found your clit. He didn’t know what he was doing, but he found the points that made you squirm and cry out fast as lightning. He ate you out like the best meal he had, grunting and caressing as his hands found your ass and pulled you to him, trying to get as much as you as possible. It was like being consumed in the best possible way.

You were so focused on the pleasure he was giving you that your orgasm caught you off guard, screaming his name as he drank out of you.

When you returned to your body, he was over you, his big body pressing down on you like a warm blanket, his dick asking for permission right at your entrance. “Are you ready, bride?”

“Fuck me like you mean it, orc.” Your last word was just a way to remind him you knew who he was, what he was, and it still turned you on incredibly. Turned you on so much that when he pressed against you, his dick slipped inside almost instantly. You both groaned at the intrusion, so good, so big, so wonderful.

He started at a slow pace, rocking his hips against you, but it soon wasn’t enough. You kept asking him to go faster, harder, and when he looked at you worryingly, you couldn’t do anything else but to kiss him until he forgot about his insecurities. You kissed him to consume him, to convince him you were in love with every part of him, orcish features and all.

He let go of his inhibitions little by little, going faster and harder until he set a punishing pace that made you see starts as he grunted against your parted mouth.

“I’m gonna breed you. I’m gonna fill you so much and so deep you would be feeling me for hours,” his words sounded like a promise and it made you shake under him, your body convulsing as you came around his shaft.

You cried out his name as your release made him lose himself in you, pumping you full of cum as he reached for your mouth once again, kissing you so passionately you felt your heart getting bigger because of how much you loved him.

You broke the kiss to whisper against his lips: “I love you, my orc husband.” He smiled down at you, his face dark green with the prettiest blush.

“I love you, my human bride,” he answered, kissing you again.

Reminder that you can commission me (info here) or suscribe to my Patreon (info here). And that my second account is @whiskis

[xxsabitoxx]

Unfortunate [Teaser] full fic has been posted

Sekido, Karaku, Aizetsu, Urogi x AFAB! Reader

Warning the full length fic will include the following: gang banging, dub-con / non-con, forced oral, forced orgasm, BDSM themes… which just means they aren’t easy on you whatsoever, humiliation, bukkake, outdoor sex, brain washing, etc etc etc

A/N: so I will say, this fic is going to be a darker one. I don’t think I’ve ever written like… full on non-con… honestly this fic will somehow lean towards dub-con anyways. Like let’s be honest, it’s gonna be a very morally gray fic. I mean we aren’t moral people let’s be real.

You had fucked up, big time. “Such a stupid thing! You couldn’t figure out that we wanted you to do this?” The green eyed demon laughed again, watching as you looked between the three of them. Laughing just a bit harder as you realized only three of them stood before you. “I-but…” there was a fourth. You were certain of it… so where the hell did he go? “Karaku…you’re so loud…” the blue eyed demon whined, eyes locked on you as he referred to the green eyed demon. “Shut it, Aizetsu.”

The red eyed one spoke again, staff hovering just a bit off the ground as he scowled at you. “You’re probably wondering where the fourth one went, huh sugar?” The green eyed demon taunted you, completely torn, you couldn’t figure out where to look. If your eyes left the three of them they’d likely attack. If you didn’t try to figure out the location of the fourth, it was likely he’d kill you instead. “C’mon, little slayer… Show us what you got…” the blue eyed demon spoke, voice somber and eyes filled with sadness.

“Urogi, quit playing around.” The red eyed demon bellowed, another name, but your brain was going too fast to remember it. The flapping of wings pulled you from your daze, head whipping in the direction of the noise but it was too late. Two claws grabbed around your waist, the sudden thrust upward knocking your blade straight from your grasp. A scream of shock left you as you were torn straight off the ground, head flying upwards to see what had grabbed you. Somehow, it was the fourth demon.

He looked just as the other three did, the only differences being his eyes and his limbs. Golden eyes stared down at you, a familiar smirk on his lips. Instead of arms and legs, he had claws. His limbs resembled that of a bird or reptile, large wings expanding behind him. You jerked as he stopped, hovering in the air as he looked you over. It wasn’t until he raised his legs that you realized he was using them to grasp you opposed to his arms. “What a pathetic thing you are…” he laughed as he let you go.

You began to plummet to the ground, body and mind so disconnected from your reality that you couldn’t even muster a scream before he swooped down to grab you again. Now, you were facing him, eyes wide and chest heaving. “You humans are so easy to break… though I must say I’ve never seen the fighting spirit leave someone as quickly as it left you.” He admired your petrified face, slowly descending until he was in earshot of his other halves. “Yah know, Sekido? We shouldn’t kill her just yet…”

His eyes trailed over your body, a cruel grin covering his face as he spoke. “Why don’t we have some fun with her? It’s been years since I’ve gotten my fill of human…desire.” The implications had you feeling hot, panic ebbing up the back of your neck as you squirmed in his grasp. “Oh? There it is…” he dropped you a moment later. The fall wasn’t a big one but it still hurt when you hit the ground. The panic was mixing with dread as you realized what the situation was turning to. “Fun? Urogi why can’t we just eat her…” the blue eyed demon whined softly as he stared at you.

“Oi, Aizetsu don’t be such a prude…” the green eyed demon spoke, walking over to where you sat on the ground. He crouched before you, smiling in a way that made you want to run. “She’d certainly have a good time, don’t you think Sekido? You know we need your approval to do anything…” he turned to look at the red eyed demon, a soft thump behind you told you that the winged demon had landed. You met the red eyed demon’s gaze, swallowing thickly as you waited for him to decide your fate.

“There are rules…you know. We each get a turn, no hogging her.” You got the chills, listening intently to the demons conversing about having their way with you. “Listen here, sugar.” The green eyed demon grabbed your face, keeping your attention on him as he spoke. “We’re gonna have a hell of a time with you… satisfy us and maybe we’ll let you leave here with your life.” Behind you, the winged demon snickered, feet dragging on the ground as he too crouched behind you. “You’ll be able to satisfy the four of us with your body, right?”

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Bleed Green : Part 23

The cheerful bell rang a familiar chime as Damian opened the door to his favorite animal shelter. The scent of fur, pet food, and antiseptic was as comforting as it was potent. Damian watched Danny closely out of the corner of his eye. The other boy’s nose wrinkled, but he looked around the front room curiously.

“Damian! I wasn’t expecting you today,” Ms. Lacey said as she popped out of the back room, summoned by the chime.

‘Ms. Lacey’ was their compromise. Damian had refused to simply refer to the woman by her first name and in turn, Ms. Lacey refused to give Damian her last name. It had been supremely frustrating. Now it was almost akin to game or inside joke between them. It was nice.

She brushed the riot of curls (blue this month) out of her face and looked at the group that had entered the shelter curiously.

Damian knew they were a bit of a sight. Danny was still swathed in a number of bandages and, now out of the apartment, looked a moment away from running. Because of that, Jason basically loomed over Danny and Damian as if he could keep the world at bay.

(He might just be able to manage to.)

“No. It is not one of my normal service days, however, I am not here to volunteer,” Damian said, his tone almost apologetic. “I have brought Daniel—”

“Danny.”

“—to see if there is a pet that would suit him.”

“Hi, Danny,” Ms. Lacey said and leaned forward onto the counter.

Danny shied back into Jason’s space. He clutched a little tighter at the backpack that his bear was safely stashed in. Cass had thought it might be good for Danny to be able to take the bear discreetly with him as he seemed rather attached to it. Considering the tracker in the bear, everyone quickly helped make that happen.

“Hi Lacey,” Danny replied softly.

Ms. Lacey leaned back, her smiled now twinged with just a little bit of sadness. Damian had seen her look abused animals the same way. “Do you know what type of animal you might be interested in, Danny?”

“I was thinking a cat or dog?” The words were more a question than a statement. “Someone that can sit with me.”

“That’s a good start. That could also be rabbits, but if they’re going to be living at the manor,” Ms. Lacey glanced briefly at Damian for a confirming nod, “then a rabbit might not work the best. A cat has the advantage that it would be indoors and doesn’t need as much effort depending on the animal’s age. But you might want a dog to walk! Why don’t we get you into the kitten room to start, because that’s a great time no matter what.”

When Danny glanced from Ms. Lacey to Damian to Todd, Todd gave a little nod. Danny tightened the hold on his backpack, took a breath, and gave a little nod.

-

“Okay, this is pretty great,” Danny said as he pried a tiny orange and white ball of fluff off his shoulder and set the little guy back down with his siblings.

Immediately the kitten was pounced by the black kitten and had his ears chewed on.

“Kittens might be too much energy for me though,” Danny admitted. He had a feeling he’d never have the type of energy he used to again. He wasn’t sure if that was from his death or… everything else.

“They are a great deal of work,” Damian agreed. His own lap was full of peacefully sleeping kittens.

Danny was a little jealous. He caught the grey kitten who looked more like a a dust bunny as it romped past.

“What if I don’t find a pet today?”

“Then we will go somewhere else. This is not the only shelter in the city,” Damian said.

The straightforward certainty that Damian had about the world was something Danny had come to appreciate over the last several days of knowing Damian. The fear was still there. Danny didn’t know if it would ever go away, but he could ignore it now. Sometimes it was hardly even background noise.

Danny was used to having a brain full of static.

“It will be fine, Brother,” Damian said when Danny didn’t respond.

Brother. Damian insisted on using that instead of his name, but Danny figure that was because Damian didn’t have a last name to call him like all the others. Bruce was simply ‘Father’ too. Maybe it was about Wayne then? But Danny wasn’t Daniel Wayne. He was just Danny… no one.

“Yeah,” Danny made himself respond so that Damian didn’t get worried. For all that Damian tried to be aloof he really was worse than even Dick.

“If a kitten would be too much, what do you think of an adult cat?”

Danny looked down at the little slip of a kitten in his hands. It was so tiny. “I think let’s start with dogs. Something not so small and… breakable.”

Damian nodded and started to divest himself of cats. “I have heard the vets ‘joke’ that kittens will heal from anything. One could toss a kitten and its missing foot in a cage and it would reattach. I suggest we do not try it.”

“No,” Danny said in horror. “We are very much not trying that, what the hell.”

“What is what I said.” Despite having to deal with many more kittens, Damian was up first and offering Danny his hand. “Come, Brother.”

Danny took the hand, stood, and still had one last kitten to pull off of of his jeans where it clung with this sharp, sharp claws.

---

AN: I was able to give this a read through finally, so have the first bit of this chapter! Because who doesn't want Danny and Damian surrounded by adorable kittens?

[littlelamy]

could you write more angst for rafe? I'm craving to be sad, maybe bc he promised he wouldn't do coke anymore and he was doing well but one day he lies to her and goes to a party to sniff some and then she finds out and maybe she's pregnant but he doesn't know yet 😁

a/n: thank you so much for sending a request!💗

you sit on the edge of the bed, fingers lightly tracing your stomach, the softest swell of new life beneath your skin. rafe’s words echo in your mind, the promises he made when you told him you couldn’t do this if he didn’t change. “i won’t touch it again,” he swore, those bright blue eyes locked on yours, so full of hope and fear and desperation.

and for a while, he’d stuck to it. he’d been good. you believed him.

but tonight, something felt off. the texts had come slower than usual, his answers short, distracted. he was out with topper and kelce, just for a drink, he said. you wanted to trust him—god, you wanted to believe that this time was different.

yet, the gnawing in your stomach hadn’t eased up since he left, a sense of dread you couldn’t shake no matter how hard you tried to tell yourself it was nothing. just anxiety. just your mind playing tricks.

until your phone buzzes, a single message lighting up the screen. it’s topper.

you might wanna come get your boy.

your heart sinks. you stare at the screen, dread pooling in your gut. you can feel the blood drain from your face, your fingers shaking as you type back a response.

where is he?

the seconds stretch into an eternity as you wait for the reply, the silence in your room deafening. when it finally pings, the answer is simple.

party at kelce’s.

you stare at the message, the words burning into your brain. you don’t even need to ask to know what rafe is doing there. kelce’s parties are notorious for one thing—coke. it’s everywhere, flowing as freely as the alcohol.

and rafe…he promised you. he promised he’d never touch that shit again.

you stand up, legs shaking as you grab your keys off the dresser, the weight of your growing secret pressing against your ribs. you haven’t told him yet. you hadn’t even planned to tell him tonight. but now, every instinct screams at you to get to him, to stop him before he ruins everything.

the drive to kelce’s house feels endless, the night blurring outside the window as your mind races with thoughts of what you’ll find when you get there. rafe had done so well these last few months. he had tried—really tried—and you were so proud of him for it. but addiction doesn’t just disappear, no matter how much you both wanted it to.

your hands tighten around the steering wheel as you pull up to the house. the bass of the music pulses through the air, shaking the ground beneath your feet as you step out of the car. the usual crowd is scattered around the yard, red solo cups in hand, laughter and shouting cutting through the night. but your eyes aren’t on them. you’re only focused on finding him.

as you push your way through the crowd, the smell of alcohol and smoke thick in the air, your heart pounds in your chest, a sickening rhythm that echoes the dread building inside you. you glance around, scanning the faces, searching for that familiar blond head.

and then, you see him.

he’s leaning against the bar, back turned to you, and your breath catches in your throat. even from a distance, you can see it—the slight twitch in his movements, the telltale signs that you know all too well. he’s on edge, more animated than usual, and you know. you don’t even need to get closer to know what he’s done.

he’s broken his promise.

you feel a wave of nausea crash over you as you step forward, heart hammering in your chest. every step feels heavy, like you’re walking through water, slow and inevitable. when you reach him, you grab his arm, pulling him around to face you.

“rafe,” you say, your voice trembling, and he looks at you, startled.

his pupils are blown wide, the usual spark in his blue eyes dimmed, replaced by something darker, something you’ve seen before but prayed you’d never have to see again.

he opens his mouth to say something, but the words don’t come. instead, he stumbles over his thoughts, his hand going to his nose instinctively, wiping at it.

“what are you doing here?” he slurs, blinking at you in confusion. “i thought you were—”

“you promised me,” you cut him off, your voice sharp, louder than you intended. “you said you wouldn’t do this again, rafe.”

he flinches at the accusation, his face falling as he stares at you. “i wasn’t—i didn’t mean to. it was just…just a little. i’m fine.”

you feel the tears burning at the corners of your eyes, anger and hurt bubbling up inside you. “you lied to me.”

he tries to reach for you, but you step back, your body trembling with rage. “don’t. don’t touch me.”

rafe’s face crumples, and for a second, you almost feel sorry for him. almost. but then you remember why you’re here. you remember the promise he made, the way he swore up and down that he would change, for you, for your future.

and now, that future feels like it’s slipping through your fingers.

“i’m sorry,” he says, his voice cracking, but you don’t want to hear it. you don’t want to hear his apologies, not when he’s high, not when he’s like this.

“sorry’s not enough, rafe,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “it’s not enough this time.”

he looks at you, desperation in his eyes, and you can see the fear creeping in—the fear of losing you, of losing everything. but it’s too late for that now. the damage is done.

“i’m done,” you say, the words feeling foreign in your mouth, like they don’t belong there. “i can’t keep doing this.”

rafe’s eyes widen, and he shakes his head, panic flashing across his face. “no, no, please. don’t say that. you don’t mean that.”

“i do.” your voice is barely above a whisper, but the weight of the words hangs in the air between you. “i can’t keep lying to myself, pretending this is okay.”

“please,” he begs, stepping closer, his hands shaking. “please, baby, don’t do this. i’ll stop. i’ll get better. i’ll be better. just don’t leave me.”

you swallow, tears blurring your vision as you look at him, this broken boy in front of you, so lost in his own demons that he can’t see how much he’s hurting you. “i don’t know if i can believe you anymore.”

rafe’s face crumples, and for the first time, you see the tears welling up in his eyes, the cracks in his armor finally breaking open. but it doesn’t change anything. it doesn’t fix what he’s done.

“please,” he whispers again, his voice trembling. “i love you.”

your breath catches in your throat, and for a moment, you almost believe him. but then you remember the ache in your chest, the fear that’s been gnawing at you since the moment you found out you were pregnant. you remember all the nights you spent worrying, wondering if this was the right decision, if you could trust him to be the father your child needed.

and now, standing here, looking at him, you have your answer.

you can’t.

the drive home is a blur, tears streaming down your face as you try to keep it together. you don’t even remember how you made it back, your mind consumed with the weight of what just happened. the house feels empty when you walk inside, the silence suffocating as you collapse onto the couch, sobs wracking your body.

you’re pregnant. you’re carrying his child, and he doesn’t even know.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0

[samodivaa]

frenzy of lust and sin 1〗

Part 2 Pairing: Instructor!Bucky x Recruit!Reader

Summary: During your training to become an agent, you've earned the moniker "Sergeant's girl" around the base—that doesn't give him the right to be possessive or jealous, but what gives you the right to be a brat? Warnings: sexual tension, age gap, sparring Words: 3.4k

Bucky knows that the body is not a thing of wild magic, but a collection of chemicals, tissues, and nerve impulses. Thoughts are no more than electrical surges in the brain. Sexual arousal is no more than a flow of chemicals to certain nerve endings. Sadness no more than a bit of acid transfixed in the cerebellum. In short, the body is a machine, subject to the same laws of electricity and mechanics as an electron or clock. As such, the body must be addressed in the language of physics. And if the body speaks, it is the speaking only of so many levers and forces. The body is a thing to be ordered, not obeyed. But the feeling is not leaving, he can’t control it. Jealousy. He is witnessing himself become daily more notable for savage sullenness and ferocity. But in the end, it’s an instinctive feeling. Your presence has flattered him from the first time you met, you are full of ambition which leads Bucky to adopt a double character without exactly intending to deceive anyone.

He keeps the acquaintance and has no temptation to show his rough side in your company, and has the sense to be ashamed of being rude towards such a young lady. You are the only recruit who gets this side of him, but it is a secret in his heart, he is guilty of such a secret, because he has to forcefully hold it. He keeps his hold on his affections towards you unalterably, not showing what he is truly feeling. With all his superiority as your hand to hand combat instructor, he finds it difficult to keep it professional as more time passes. As he falls more for you. ============================== The moment you enter the room, he discerns your soft-featured face, pensive and amiable in expression, eyes which are large and serious, your figure almost too graceful. It forms a sweet picture―and your aura. It's…intoxicating. It's shining, it always shines. 

“Good morning, Bucky” you have a sweet, low manner of speaking as you walk towards where he is sitting. “Good morning” his voice sounds ill-natured, politeness that would only be laughed at, restraining an unruly nature, wary of the secret he knows about you. He is trying to not be overcome by emotion. Emotion is the art of breaking hearts, minds, and tongues―but it is too much, even for Bucky.

You reflect for an instant, with knitted brows “Are you okay?” “Of course I am, why do you ask?” he whispers crossly.

A surprised laugh almost breaks free from your lips, because his naturally reserved disposition is exaggerated into an almost idiotic excess of moroseness today and you wonder why that is. Bucky slightly widening his eyes, parts of his lips, but there is absence of arrogance as his features become unreadable again. He rises up from the bench, but you have no time to express your worry further as you gaze at him with a troubled countenance, because it might be something deeper. ==============================

It is all because of three days ago.

As he carries his basket to the laundry room, he spots a look for a washing machine with a finished cycle. He opens the door and unloads the freshly washed clothes, placing them into the basket in front of the machine―but these clothes are familiar. Leggings, he knows them by heart. Curiosity is gluttony. It is a great temptation to look through all of them, piece by piece. And although his demeanor is calm, his eyes betray a maelstrom of emotions—his self-control is shattering. The impulse lurks. His gaze moves downwards. To his crotch. Jesus. He is hard. And sometimes, to regain sanity, he has to acknowledge and embrace the madness. Bucky wavers for a moment, and then, irresistibly impelled by the naughty spirit within him, sits on the floor and finds a red dress underneath the leggings―curiosity sparking in his eyes as his lids to twinkle, because he has never imagine you wearing such feminine clothing. Until now. He wants to see the curve of your back, the dress clinging to your chest and waist, flaring over your hips—and certainly wants to look at your tits in it.

“Fuck”  His throat gurgles slightly, looking at the cloth through his lashes like the starved man he is. It is almost impossible to express himself out loud, satisfaction speaks louder than words. He is overwhelmed by emotions, leaving him both speechless and breathless, but even then it is important to identify the correct emotion—lust, a longing that goes on a loop. He neglects his throbbing cock, but his attention remains the dress as he falls victim to countless daydreams.

There is scarcely time to experience a thrill of his arousal before he sees something else—male boxers. He stands stunned. Paralyzed. Breathless. But there is no time for inaction. His mind floods as he tries to make sense of what he is seeing.

—Men are punished by their sins, not for them.

Seeing the boxers, he speaks of lust in the past tense. The scene that plays in front of him, is perfectly adapted to a temporal phenomenon: distinct, abrupt, framed—illusions are bound to be shattered, reality finally sets in. An indescribable look flits across his face, because that sparks his anger. It is so wrong to feel like this, yet he is firmly persuaded that a great deal of his consciousness, in fact, is a disease, the more deeply it sinks into that mire and the more ready he is to sink in it altogether—Jealousy. He hates those insoluble problems and contradictions of human nature, and that he is capable of conquering his fragile inner center—only silence remains. To take back his power in any given situation, he needs to focus on the things he can control. The thoughts he chooses to think is usually the best place to begin, but by a natural impulse his mind starts to wonder—about this man kissing you, touching you, fucking you. 

==============================

That’s how his unusual behavior is fueled, expressed, plainer than words could do, the intense anguish at having made himself the instrument of opposing his own jealousy. You enter the room and he is already waiting for you and as you approach the bench where he is sitting, he is  supposing you are going to say something, looking up. The expression of his face seems disturbed and anxious as three days ago, lips are half asunder, as if he wants to speak, and draws a breath, but it escapes with a sigh instead of a normal sentence.

“You know, relationships are not allowed here” “What are you talking about?” you pursue, kneeling down by him and lifting your winsome eyes to his face with that sort of look which turns off bad temper, even when it is right in his own world to indulge it. “It is part of the rules, you sighed it” he goes on, less sulkily. “Yeah and I am not in a relationship” you respond, peevishly rising to your feet.  “You just slept with some random guy?” “It is not against the rules” you exclaim in an irritated tone, chafing your hands together and frowning.

“So how was the sex?”  he asks too casually, his countenance growing graver. Bucky has an unusual gloom in his face, that makes you dread something from which you might shape a prophecy, and foresee a fearful catastrophe. Will he expel you from the training program?

“What do you mean?” you ask, with an accent of indignation. “How was it” he asks, emphasizing each syllable “When he fucked you?” —Jealous makes tongue unconscious

You avoid aggravating his fiery temper by staying silent, not knowing what attendees his anger and the curiosity of your personal life. His behavior today provokes you exceedingly, but you lay the blame on his latest mission which was a disaster. He doesn’t have power to conceal his emotions anymore, it sets his whole complexion in a blaze. Bucky rises from the bench, scoops up his water bottle, takes a long gulp from it  and impatiently bades you to go to the training mats, terminating the conversation with a sequel of horrid imprecations in his mind. You know that It is as much a part of him as his limbs, this need to make sure that you are safe, to protect you. But this is the first time that he hasn't been so kind to you. And you remember a definition of chivalry you’d heard once: a man protecting a woman against every man but himself. Through the madness of his words, a part of his soul is revealed—a part of him that has to do with the past. Even if people around him try to forget it, the past remembers him. That void in his chest fills with anger sometimes and it is scary to witness it.

You don’t want to spar with him, but you won’t back down either—back and forth you go, shifting your feet and moving across the mat like some wild, ferocious tango. It is exhilarating to be moving like this with you, so close Bucky can see your eyebrows pinched together in concentration, little drops of sweat as they run down your face. Then it happens. You couldn’t get your arms up in time and Bucky’s next kick hit you squarely in the side. The attempt to conceal the pain doesn’t work as you feel all the strength go out of you as your back hits the ground hard. In a second he gets on top, which makes you wriggle and squirm, trying to throw him off. He grins down at you, enjoying his momentary superiority and the feeling of your smaller body underneath his. You don’t let the mental block or panic control you, ideas flow so rapidly that you have not time to decide what to do—you scowl adorably and arch up against him in a way that sends electricity through him—and that unbalances him enough for you to flip him over and straddle him.  —He is a mournful wreck ruined by his biggest weakness, you. You are on top now, pinning him, grinning down with sparkling eyes. He is exasperated, because he doesn’t know what this look means. He put it somewhere between indifference and pride. Your eyes are so intense he wants to look away—or never look away, he can’t decide, but he keeps his gaze fixed on you as if you fear that you would vanish if he is to remove it. To his shock, the heavy breathing, the rush of adrenaline and endorphins, the intense stare, the rivulets of sweat, arouses him even more. 

“It was nice” you declare, emphatically, speaking sincerely “The sex was nice” you add in a tone particularly calculated to provoke him. 

You seem to allow yourself such wide latitude with both your actions and words today, it really leaves him speechless and you laugh at his reaction as if you are inclined to make it no laughing matter to Bucky. When your eyes meet his gaze as you are staring at each other, time stops. Those eyes are piercing yours, and you can swear at this moment you sense something more. It surprises you that he doesn’t say anything in return. You are not used to seeing Bucky like that—without the attitude, without the facade. He tries to conceal his reaction from you, but his face grows cloudy at your reply, his heart grows pale with pure annoyance: a feeling that reaches its climax when you silently rise and leave the room as Bucky ponderes your reply painfully. He would not have wanted to hear of staying a second longer anyways. ============================== It is a continual nightmare. He needs several days off from all training sessions to meditate on his thoughts in solitude. He persuades his conscience that in a way it is not his fault as possessiveness is a problem, rooted in his ill-bred past―he suffers greatly, because of the brainwashing, torture, his mind struggles between disorder and order, trying to find a balance between the two extremes. 

But he can't keep on running, he needs to face one of his biggest problems―for all his time that he has spent with you, he couldn't avert that excess of emotion: mingled possessiveness and jealousy has overcome him completely lately. The nearer he gets to the facility the more agitated he becomes and on catching sight of it he trembles in every limb. You are young, beautiful and there is something contagious when you act like a brat, it takes root in him and his desire grows along with him―your presence is a moral poison that contaminates his whole mind.  —There is a charm about the forbidden that makes it unspeakably desirable. You are forbidden. Young. His best trainee.

============================== You are already sitting on the bench and turn around when the door opens. Eye contact. How can he mitigate his adoration for you when he can't concentrate half the time he is around you?

“Good morning, Bucky” 

You say with feigned playfulness and he notices a mischievous smile on your lips. As if you are on hostile terms with him, but still somehow friendly. And what amuses you is painful to him beyond expression―he doesn’t say anything in return, but sits next to you, and looks thoroughly indifferent as he takes the water bottle out of his backpack. It is normal thought, you are alarmed at his recent indiscretion, and the disclosure he had made of his behavior in a transient fit of anger. Bucky is sick with conflict, possessive emotions fester in him while this sludge, guilt, eats away at his insides and he is acutely conscious of the swift passage of time. ―He needs to say something. Finish the session and go home. It is that simple.

And he stares hard at you, watching you take a long drink from your bottle. Then he follows the flick of your tongue over your bottom lip. His heart stumbles a beat. What the actual fuck. Was that on purpose―he has come here to train you and once again, he is left speechless. Then. You lean in, your scent filling his nostrils. He is shocked to feel his throat tighten with a primal hunger, just to hear: “Don’t you like me?”

You laugh softly, utterly feminine sound that galvanizes all of his senses. You lean closer, allowing Bucky to savor the sweet, sinful energy which shimmers from you―some primitive male instinct warns him of your innocence―like a bloom on a vine, fragrant and dainty. He scowles―don’t pinch it off. His heart knows no peace, because everything is wrong with having feelings for you.   *What is she playing at? Is she trying to provoke me? It's working*

“It's not that I don’t like you, it's only that in your presence I don’t like myself”  he speaks without any anger in his voice, but with much sorrowful despondency.

Now, you are the one left speechless, but manage to preserve your external composure, in spite of his ghastly countenance and strange confession. You find childish diversion in the idea of pulling his mental strings―you struggle desperately to not smile as your mind obsessively plays and replays his words, your eyes narrow into thin slits as your gaze doesn’t leave his, because your suspicions are confirmed, he likes you. That describes his change of habitual conduct. A hideous notion strikes you, how wonderful it would be to use the satisfying exhibitions of power and control to deliberately create more desire in him―only to capriciously deny it. It is clear that he doesn’t know that you are a virgin if he accuses you of sleeping with other men. The question is―what exactly provoked him? But your abstraction is evidently so deep, and your whole aspect so misanthropical that Bucky thinks how uncomfortable you might be feeling. He reflects that all those words will be branded in his memory, and they eat him deeply, eternally, because he should have not said them. All because of his greedy jealousy. He looks astonished at the expression on your face, only assuming what you might be thinking of him―he gazes at you with mournful and questioning eagerness, clearly on the verge of madness. He endeavors to say something, but can’t manage it which makes him compress his mouth as he holds a silent combat with his inward shame, meanwhile, your mind offers a perfect plan. 

“Do you want to kiss me?”  

You whisper, anxiously, yet boldly―mesmerized by the tiny flecks of indigo in his blue eyes—you can drown in those eyes and it wouldn’t be the worst way to go. His beautiful features offer themselves to your gaze as you trail through them, annoyed at how attractive he is. You feel stuffy, there is not enough air to breathe as his eyes stare at your lips for a few moments.

“Watch that mouth” 

A wicked curve appears on his lips, because your pure innocence is a kind of insanity to his mind that sees in scattered images of varying vulgarity. Kiss you? He wants to fuck you. You are so impetuous and bold―addictive. “Or what? You will kiss it?”

You say which makes you glance up to find his eyes blazing with raw need. Innocent and virtuous, you represent the exact type of female he needs to avoid…“Or I will fuck it”―ugh, he can’t say that, but he wants to. God, he feels so naked knowing you have clearly identified his desire for you. He can’t go any further down. Rock bottom. His mind is a mess, but he has no intention of cleaning today. You lean, but before he can say anything you lean back and smile, leaving him to grapple with an absurd sense of disappointment. Teasing Bucky is part of the fun that comes before kissing—oh, you will for sure ruin him long before you touch him. It will be more satisfying to exhibit power and control than deliberately creating desire—only to capriciously deny it. His smile is faint and lopsided, his answer takes a long time, which is uncharacteristic: “Don’t do that again” Bucky’s voice is measured, his longing raw. Self control is all he has left. His face feels scattered in pieces and he can’t not keep it straight. The feeling is a whole lot worse than being hungry for any dinner, yet it is like that. All he can think about―is you. “Why? What will you do?” Your laughter sounds like music, you just  can’t miss a chance to remind him what a brat you are and that's when a sense of his folly compels him to mutter: “Why don’t you really keep your mouth shut?” You guess he utters those words, at least, though his voice is hardly intelligible. You know his voice well, bright and brittle, but now it has the thinnest layer of ice over―you know that he feels guilty about liking you. His question is an attempt to repress the intensity of your delight. He looks at you with a droll expression―half angry, half laughing at your boldness. “Why don’t you-” your exhalation carries a rasping tremor as if holding back a giggle “-give my mouth something else to do?” His mouth gaps, but no sound comes out. He stares at you, with a grin hovering about his lips, and a scowl gathering over his eyes:

“I have no words” he articulates softly. “Bucky…” you tease him  “You always have something to say” And yet, he freezes stiff, as if he has been pushed onstage in a play where he doesn't know the lines―God, you’ve broken him. You’ve managed to render him speechless―Dominance. Control. These things are the roots of Bucky’s character. And you are the first person to defy his dominance and to challenge his self control. What a languid woman, a force of gravity by which you irresistibly make him speechless—and at the same time, fuel a new side to him. Eye contact. There is more in the eyes. Longing. The naughtiness emanates from your eyes—you look at him like you own him, openly teasing him as if it’s normal. And now you know that he needs you. This scarred, broken man needs you...and you want to be there for him. There is a silent promise not to let his secret out, but there is no promise for not teasing him purposely from now on—you jolt at the knowledge that you are instilling his inner peace to such an extent. 

Part 2

[pentechnics]

Can't Get Enough

pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader rating: E | explicit | 18+ only word count: ~1,200 tags: nsfw, hate sex, angry sex, penetrative sex, throat/breath play, rough sex, multiple orgasms, angst, reader and din hate each other yet can't get enough, din makes you sad, no physical descriptions of reader, no y/n

notes: This isn't my usual style, but I just kinda had to get some stuff out. Not really edited or fully flushed out, for that matter. But hopefully posting something new will help me get further in my other work! I have something due for the d20 writing challenge and I am so sorry that one hasn't happened dfghjsfkl

taglist under the cut❤️

He slammed you against the wall with a loud thunk.

Your throat was sore from exertion, your pulse quickening with each groan he released.

His hand found your neck again and held tight, forcing you to look into that visor and see your own lust-blown gaze reflected back at you.

Fuck, he pissed you off. He got to see you like this, but you didn’t. Every time you two wound up like this, it felt like another charge added to an invisible tab. Like he owed you something, because you always gave him everything.

The thought was brief, soon vanquished by another angry thrust, pain and pleasure melding together and turning your brain to mush.

You peered in deeper, willing his eyes to show themselves. You channeled every ounce of mental energy you had left into him – how much he hurt you, how angry he made you. How angry you were at yourself to have given into this again.

And why? Nothing ever changed. He’d come over, both of you would be pissed as all hell, take it out on each other, and then he’d leave. Neither of you walked away feeling any better.

… You never stopped to wonder why he kept coming back. It took two to keep this up, after all. You sucked on his thumb when he stuck it in your mouth, wrapping your legs around him to bring him deeper into you.

You hated this. You hated that it always came down to this for you to feel something. Ever since the two of you broke up you’ve been searching for something, but hell if you knew what it was.

You hated that he was still your answer. You surely didn’t love him anymore, but you hated that you still needed him.

Especially because he doesn’t need you.

He rammed into you, deeper and deeper, sending you into convulsions. You screamed into the humid air, grasping at his shoulders for dear life.

His own cries followed, a loud ‘fuck’ echoing into the darkness. He pried you off the wall and threw you down on the bed, putting the full force of his weight into each delicious stroke.

You couldn’t help the whines that spilled out of you. He had a way of dragging out every single sensation until you were drowning in it all. Drowning in him.

It was infuriating.

You pulled yourself up to his shoulder, kissing and biting at his salty skin. A gorgeous, vindicating sense of pride soared through you when he let out a whimper. 

You liked to think you were the only one who could make him do that.

It made him pound harder into you. Your bite matched, his skin muffling your screams.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” you panted.

“Yeah?”

You nodded.

“Good.”

He pulled almost all the way out and slammed back in. Swears piled out of you. Your heart was pounding, your blood on fire. He had the nerve to fucking chuckle.

“You like that, don’t you?”

 “Bastard.”

He did it again. You wailed.

“Shit,” he whispered.

Any wittiness he had was gone. His pace became manic, one goal in mind. Your eyes rolled back as he continued to ram his cock against your g-spot.

“Close your fucking eyes,” he growled, pressing a hand over them.

The sensations grew stronger without the distraction of sight. Especially after hearing the familiar hiss of his helmet and feeling the subsequent mouth on your neck.

Your moan echoed around you both. Your hand came up to press against his head.

“Din-“

Your orgasm erupted without warning. He used his hold on your head to press you into the mattress, fucking you through it without relent.

“Yes, keep coming, baby.”

Wave after wave of pleasure had your legs flailing and your back arching. Stars appeared before you. The onset of tears built up behind your eyes.

“I’m not fucking done,” he mumbled.

His free hand began to swirl your clit. You thought you couldn’t scream any louder, yet he proved you wrong.

Your muscles tensed up all over again, that sweet coil threatening to break with each tiny movement.

“You better fucking come again,” he said through gritted teeth, like he was holding himself back.

The combination of thrusting and tight circles on your clit had you coming undone again with ease. Your second release was stronger, your body’s convulsions all the more erratic.

But he didn’t stop.

His hand left your eyes to grip your hips, and you had to fight with yourself to keep from looking at him.

“One. More.”

He pulled you to the edge of the bed and dragged you onto his cock over and over. The new angle was steeper, hitting something deeper inside that you weren’t aware existed.

“Oh god,” you sighed. “Right there.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you whined.

He let out a groan and picked up the speed. You threw your arm over your eyes, afraid you wouldn’t be able to control yourself for much longer.

His breath was labored, accentuated with deep heaving. He wasn’t going to last much longer, which meant—

“Runnin’ out of time, baby, you better give me one more.”

You squealed with each pulse of contact with your g-spot, but his words made a bead of annoyance interrupt your trance.

No, you thought. You’re not gonna get what you want this time.

You squeezed your muscles, clenching his cock tighter between your walls.

“FUCK,” he shouted. “Feels so good-”

His grunts were too much to bear, each one scratching that sweet spot in your brain that went straight to your pussy, but you had to hold back. He had to break first. You gripped the sheets with your free hand and clenched your jaw, desperate to keep the impending third orgasm down.

His grip on you tightened.

“Oh, fuck you,” he spat.

“You already are, dumbass.”

You didn't recognize the graininess of your own voice. But what came after told you it worked.

He leaned over you and continued the rapid pace, both of you moaning into the air just before coming in a heap of screams and roars.

He buried his head beside yours as he rode out his pleasure, taking yours with it.

He eventually slowed to a stop, standing back up and taking care to pull out the condom with his spend without spilling, just as he did every time.

You heard the plop of it getting thrown in the trash before he leaned over you once more, caging in your frame with his arms.

“Look at me.”

“I haven’t heard the helmet-”

“Look. At me.”

Even through his labored breathing, his voice was unwavering. He put his hands on either side of your face, forcing your gaze to meet his when you did peek your eyes open.

The tiny amount of air that had replenished in your lungs was gone.

He was a vision: skin glowing with sweat, eyebrows scrunched with a crease in the middle, sharp cheekbones and a hooked nose…

… But those fucking brown eyes. They were just downright unfair.

You put your hands over his wrists to keep his hold in place. A glimmer of hope dared to emerge in your head – is he letting you see him because he actually did care? Was there still something in him that loved you?

But then he let out a deep chuckle. Your heart broke all over again.

Why’d I even bother?

“You’ll never get enough, will you?”

You gulped. It always came down to this. But this time, you’d seen the truth.

Not only was this his last playing card, but you had a winning hand.

A confident grin bloomed across your face, the satisfaction already tasting so sweet now that you got to say this directly to his actual face. You’d get to see that smug expression die.

You’d get to finally be the one to let him down.

“Neither can you.”

****

taglist: @booksarekindaneat @bluemacaron @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @whataenginerd @girlofchaos @christina-loves @literallydontlook @the-little-ewok @salome-c @dear-fifi @mswarriorbabe80 @littlemisspascal @keldabe-kriff @kurlyfrasier @booksaremyyoga @elegantduckturtle @artsymaddie

[multifandom-worlds]

In The Shadows

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: secret relationships, non-canon, profanity

Authors Note: This is a reader insert fic, but the background is basically the reader is Draco Malfoy's twin sister. If I have forgotten any warnings, do let me know, please!

Your content consumption is on you.

“Why was she wearing your jersey, Mattheo? Answer me that: why does another woman get what’s mine?” You demand, walking into changing rooms. You knew everyone was out; you counted them yourself. Mattheo was standing up, waiting for you to arrive. 

“I could ask you the same question. Why are you wearing another man’s name?” Mattheo retorts, stalking towards you. He’s used to you cowering, becoming putty in his hand, but this time, you were defiant. You were not going to let him intimidate you. 

“I don’t think I’ve met someone with such pathetic critical thinking skills,” You shot back. “It’s not just “another man’s last name” like you so kindly said; it’s my fucking last name, Riddle. If you used your brain for once in your goddamn life, you’d see I’m wearing my brother’s jersey. Why am I wearing my brother’s jersey? Because someone is too fucking embarrassed to be seen with me that he refuses to let me wear his. I’m beginning to think you just want me for sex, and that’s is”

Mattheo stops his advances, caught off guard by your aggression. He was not at all used to you standing up for yourself. Not to mention reducing his love for you to merely sex. “...Don’t say that, love. You don't mean that you know I love you; it's just…”

“It's just what, Riddle? Your father? Do you realize who I am? Who my family is? I'm a motherfucking Malfoy. I am the daughter of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy, the fucking death eater.” You look up at him, all your insecurities manifesting into anger.

“No…your brother,” Mattheo says meekly.

You look at him dumbfounded. “My brother? You're worried about my brother? My brother couldn't punch his way out of a wet paper bag. Are you worried he'll tell our father? Baby, father would be happy I'm dating the literal Dark Lord’s son. That gives him a leg up, so to speak.” 

Mattheo raises his hand to cup your cheek before he hears the changing room door open. He immediately takes three steps back as Astoria walks in, his jersey in her hand. “Here you go, Matty.” She says, a nauseatingly flirtatious tone in her voice. She gasps when she sees you, grabbing onto Mattheo’s bicep. “What are you doing here? This is the men’s changeroom.” 

To his credit, Mattheo steps away from her but is not quick enough for your liking. “She was just...” he began before you cut him off, your jaw tight, and a look of pure hatred burned behind our eyes. 

“Leaving.” You spoke with absolute authority. “Goodbye, Riddle, good fucking riddance” You turn and walk away without even a second glance. However, you do linger at the door, silently hoping he comes after you.

You could hear Astoria laughing, “she actually believed she had a chance with you? She really is an embarrassment to her family. Now let’s go; I have a reward for you!” 

You walk away after that, knowing you’ll only break your own heart more. You walk away, the tears threatening to spill. How can you be sad about something nobody knew about? What do you say when people ask…what do you do? You move on in the shadows, just as you were loved in the shadows. 

You navigate your way through the Slytherin common room, staying near the walls and doing your best to avoid the partygoers. You have no desire to party; all you want is your bed. It was then that you felt a familiar, calloused hand grab your wrist. Turning around, you come face to face with Mattheo’s captivating smile. For a moment, you nearly forgot everything he put you through.

“I was wondering when you’d show up, Mally. A party is not the same without you.” He says, pulling you close and nuzzling his nose against your neck while wrapping his arms around your waist. You wanted to believe him, believe that he finally decided to love you publicly, but you could smell the fire whisky on his breath. He's drunk. 

“You’re drunk, Mattheo. Leave me alone; I’m not partying tonight.” You say, pulling away from his grip. “Go party with Astoria; she must be just dying to spend time with you since you’re single, after all.” 

He looks at you, confusion twisting his gorgeous features. “I’m not single? What do you mean, Mally? I’m dating you. I have been through the 7th and 8th year. I want to stay with you.” 

You sigh, stepping back away from him further, with tears prickling in your eyes. “That would mean so much more if you weren’t drunk, Matty. It’s over for us, don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” You turn from him and slip effortlessly into the writhing student body. 

You collapse on your bed and release the sob that had been building in your throat all afternoon, ever since seeing Astoria wearing Mattheo’s jersey. ‘It’s better this way,’ you told yourself; this way, you can find someone who loves and appreciates you in the open, not hiding you away like some dirty little secret. You cried yourself to sleep that night with Mattheo's shirt tucked tightly to your chest, not wanting to wake up the following day.

The following days dragged on. You did everything you could to avoid your ex, but it was getting more challenging by the day. One night, after you and Mattheo had been partnered for Charms, you broke down to your brother, confessing everything. Your 2-year relationship with Mattheo, your “break up,” all of it. You cried in Draco’s arms for hours, and like the dutiful brother he is, he consoled you the whole time, quietly seething. How dare someone do this to his beloved sister? How dare someone reduce her to tears like this? 

You were almost asleep, floating just on the precipice of dreams while Draco was reading you a story, when there was a knock on your dorm door. You move to get it, but Draco stops you. “You need to sleep, moon. I’ll answer it.” He says softly, pushing your hair from your face. 

You heard the door open, and Draco stepped out into the hallway. What you didn’t expect to hear, however, was the conversation. 

“What are you doing here, Riddle? Haven’t you done enough?” Draco says, his tone angry.

“What are you talking about, Draco? I came to check on her, but she hasn’t been answering my messages; she’s ignoring me. I just want to talk to her. Is that so bad?”

“Why would you keep her a secret, Riddle? My sister is brilliant and incredible. She is more my father than I could ever hope to be. She is the greatest duellist this school has ever seen, which is why she’s the Slytherin Dueling Club Captain, and you threw her away for Astoria? All she ever wanted in her life was someone to see her for who she was, not what she could be. She hoped it was you, but keeping her a secret, that's not what you do to someone you love. Leave her alone, Riddle.”

Draco shut the door before you could hear Mattheo’s response. It warmed your heart that you had someone in your corner, your confidant, your protector. You now understood what Fred and George were saying - having a twin is the best thing. 

You pretended to sleep as Draco walked back over, but you felt his lips land softly on your temple. “Goodnight, little moon. I’ve got you.”

Mattheo catches you in the hallways while you are walking between classes with your brother several days later. “Mally, wait, please... talk to me. There has to be a misunderstanding. Please.” He looks like he hasn't slept in days. 

“For the last time, Riddle, leave me the fuck alone!” You yell while pushing him away from you, but he comes back like a moth to a flame. Clearly, you were going to have to tell him in a language he would understand. Once he got within arms reach, you punched him square in the nose. You could feel the cartilage break under your fist. “I told you, leave me alone, Riddle! You had your chance with me, and you gave that up.”

Mattheo holds his nose while looking at you in complete shock. Everyone in the hallway was looking at you in complete shock. You walk away, Draco hurrying after you, leaving Mattheo to deal with his broken nose himself. You could faintly hear a commotion happening behind you, but you didn’t dare look around. 

The rumours began mere hours later and steadily built up momentum as the days passed.

“Did you hear Mattheo Riddle got his nose broken by that Malfoy girl last week?”

“Did he actually? How did Tom react?”

“I still can’t believe Mattheo got his nose broken by a girl.”

You were growing tired of all the gossip about you. You heard from Draco that Mattheo had started withdrawing from everyone; clearly, he was, too. The guilt began to eat you up alive - was he actually that in love with you that your separation was this hard on him? There’s no way he loved you, not with how he acted; maybe he was just embarrassed. Hopefully, he was just embarrassed, but you couldn’t worry about that; you had bigger things on your mind - the Dueling Club tournament. 

You sit back, watching your team dominate, cheering them on and giving the newer ones points before they step into the ring. You have to sit with the other house captains, something about rules or whatever. You clock Mattheo, sitting a few seats down, but pay it no mind.

Slytherin and Gryffindors were neck and neck; this next duel would decide who won that year's tournament. You stepped up for your house, stepping into the ring amongst hoots and hollers. After some intense planning, Harry Potter steps into the ring. The whole room fell silent. The Chosen One, the boy wonder up against Hogwart's greatest dueler. This really would be a duel to remember.

“I guess we’re doing this, Potter.” You chuckle, taking your wand from your robes and holding it comfortably in your hand. You scan the room before your eyes lock with Mattheos, and you see a myriad of untold emotions. His eyes draw you in, locking you in place. The world beyond you slips away, melting into a sea of nothingness; nothing mattered to you more at that moment than Mattheo. 

Until, out of your peripheral vision, you see a spell coming hurling your way; instantaneously, you snap into action, quickly casting a barrier and returning the spell at him. “That was a good try, Potter,” You taunt, waiting for him to engage again. His eyes burn into you before slinging spell after spell at you. One or two of them connected, but it wasn’t enough to win.

“Fuck you, Malfoy! Fight back, you coward!” Harry hissed, growing more and more agitated as the duel commenced. He was getting sloppy, precisely what you counted on. He may be “The Chosen One,” but that doesn’t change the fact that he is a hothead and a thoughtless dueler. 

“Easy, Potter, don’t lose your head,” You taunt again, stalking around the ring like a predator stalking its prey. You watch closely, taking note of his actions as you patiently waited, waited for the right time to strike. 

Now.

You go on the offence, unloading a flurry of harmless attacks, each one hitting its target with deadly accuracy. Within seconds of your attack, that match was called, and Slytherin was named winner of the Tournament. Your whole house jumps up and swarms you, chanting your name. You were enjoying all the celebration when you saw Mattheo pushing through the crowd. You prepared yourself mentally for whatever argument was about to ensue, but when he reached you, instead of starting an argument, his lips collided with yours. 

The kiss was electrifying, hungry, desperate, and everything you needed it to be. Mattheo's hands danced their way down your face to the side of your neck, resting there as if they were always meant to be there…and perhaps they were. 

“You're mine, do you understand me?” He growls as he breaks the kiss. “No more of this ignoring me bullshit. I know where I fucked up, but I need you back, Mally. Please, no more hiding, no more keeping you a secret.”

You look at him, seeing the vulnerability he’s showing in front of everyone. He bites his lip, and his hands begin to tremble ever so slightly. You knew in your heart what to stay. 

“You’re a goddamn idiot, Mattheo Riddle, but you’re my goddamn idiot.” You punctuate your sentence with a kiss, sealing everything.

[ashwhowrites]

OMG I CANT BELIEVE REQS ARE OPEN YAYAAYAYAYAYAYYYYY

okay so basically i was wondering if you could do something with popular!bully!eddie x sensitive!reader

okay okay. so reader and eddie like each other but its a secret from the other and eddie bullies her lightly (cos he doesnt know how to deal with emotions) and shes super insecure cos she has like no friends and stuff and he went prom dress shopping with chrissy and saw reader there and teased her about the dress she picked and she got sad and cried at home then its prom and eddie's rejected everyone cos hes waiting for reader to show up and finally confess but shes nowhere to be found so he goes to her house with flowers or smth and he finds her crying and he comforts her and has her put her dress on and they kiss

IM SORRY IF THIS MAKES NO SENSE!!!

but thank you SO MUCH ash your writing is literally amazing it always has me in my feels <333 thank you for bringing so much happiness (and angst LMAO) to my feed!!

You are so sweet!! Thank you so much 🫶🏻I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting!

Prom Dress

Eddie never had a good hand on his emotions, he never learned how to express what he felt correctly. All he saw growing up was expressing emotions through anger. His dad was never around to tell him about girls and his mom was never there to teach him how a girl wants to be treated. So he went with what came naturally, except he barely ever felt real feelings towards a girl.

Until he met Y/N

Eddie was popular, it was easy to have girls on his arm and in his bed. But he didn't have feelings for them, so it was easy sweet talk and then they wouldn't talk again. But it was like his brain froze when he was in Y/N's presence. His sweet talk was out the door as he stuttered out something to say, and it was always a comment that sent her over the edge. He just didn't know that.

Y/N was a very alone person. She wasn't the best at making friends, making peace with being her own friend. She was insecure, never telling a boy how she felt because she knew it would go the exact way she thought it would. And when she realized her heart raced when Eddie walked in the halls, she knew that one would never happen.

Plus she has a good damn feeling he hated her guts. He added fire to the hell she lived in but there was something about him that she wanted. She allowed herself to be his punching bag because she felt alive when his eyes were on her. He was practically the only person that talked to her, and she didn't want to give that up.

Because at the end of the day, she had Eddie Munson's attention.

~~~

Eddie groaned as Chrissy picked up another dress to try on. He looked at his watch, annoyed that they had been in the same shop for two hours.

"At this point, Jason won't care what you pick. Can we please go?" Eddie moaned, his head thrown back as he sat on the uncomfortable chairs.

"You're fine. I have two more dresses and then we'll leave!" Chrissy sighed, going into the changing room.

Eddie moved his head back and looked around the store. He blinked a few times when he saw someone familiar. He stood up and slowly walked closer, squinting his eyes as a girl walked away from the register with a puffy pink dress.

"Y/N?"

She froze as she recognized the voice. Already on edge as she turned out. Panic in her eyes as she met his brown ones.

"Hi Eddie," she said, a small smile as she greeted him politely.

"Is that your prom dress?" He asked, his eyes looking over her shoulder as she held it.

"Yeah," she said quietly

"So you are going to prom? What? Alone?" He scoffed, a mocking chuckle left his mouth and Y/N shifted on her feet uncomfortably.

"Um, I don't know yet. Depends if someone asks" She shrugged

Eddie felt his body burn, a sense of discomfort thinking of someone asking her. Some guy takes her, takes pictures, and spins her on the dance floor. Someone she would have gotten dressed up for. He wasn't sure why the thought made him so damn angry. But the good news for him, he knew how to express anger.

"Ask you? You know that's not going to happen" he argued, his eyes dark as he stared down at her. "And while you are wearing that? A puffy pink dress, you think you are some fairytale princess? That dress looks like it's for a five-year-old old" He teased, but it wasn't his usual tease. This time it felt like every word he said sliced through her.

The one dress that fit her like a glove. The one dress that made every problem wash away. A dress where for once she felt beautiful.

She didn't say anything, just turned around and walked out of the store.

She cried as she raced to her car, harshly throwing the dress in the backseat. She cried the whole way home, feeling helpless in this world. She wasn't sure why it felt like everything was always up against her.

~~~

It was the night of the prom, and Y/N ignored the dress that hung up in her closet.

She bought it a week ago, a week since Eddie ruined the one bit of confidence she had left.

She wanted to return it, but the store wouldn't take it. So now she was stuck with a reminder that she would never be the gorgeous girl who walked into prom and changed everyone's perspective of her. She would still be that loser everyone laughed about.

So she stayed home. Her parents weren't too involved with her life, out on vacation as she sat on the couch. She watched romantic movies, crying as she stuffed her mouth with chocolate ice cream.

~

Eddie checked his watch for the tenth time of the night. The loud music overwhelmed him as he kept his eyes on the door.

"Want to dance?" A girl from the cheerleading squad asked.

"No thanks. I'm waiting for someone" he said with a tight smile, then moved his eyes back to the door

The prom started two hours ago, and she still wasn't there.

He turned down about ten dances before he took matters into his own hands.

He grabbed his keys from his pocket and hit the road. The flowers he bought sat in his passenger seat, guess he was going to drive them to her instead.

He pulled up to her driveway, letting out a nervous breath as he got out. He fixed his suit, patted down his hair, and gripped the flowers. He knocked on the door, stepping back as he waited for it to open.

"Eddie?" She was surprised, her body mostly covered by the door. Some sort of protection for herself.

He looked up and frowned. Her eyes were red and her cheeks were wet. And she wasn't anywhere near dressed up for prom. Her hair was down, but no makeup on her face.

"Hey, can I come in?" He asked

"Why?" She asked, covering her body even more with the door

"Why didn't you come to prom?"

She was surprised he even noticed. But she was more curious as to why it mattered to him.

"Didn't want to go. Is that all?" She snapped. It was enough that he could torture her at school and outside of school. But at her own house is where she drew the line.

"Um, uh, these are for you," he said shyly, not used to her face looking so annoyed and a snap in her tone.

She eyed the flowers as he held them out for her. She opened the door wider to grab them. They were truly beautiful and it was the first time she ever received flowers.

"Oh um thank you, Eddie," she said, smelling the flowers

"Can I come in? Maybe we can talk?" He asked, he twiddled his fingers as he waited for her to reply

"Uh sure but don't you have like a date or something?" She asked

"No, I was waiting for you," he said honestly, for once just saying what he felt instead of turning it into a joke.

She didn't know what to say so she opened the door and let him step inside.

She walked to the kitchen and got a vase for the flowers. He followed without asking.

"So why were you waiting for me? Was a big bucket of red paint gonna fall over me?" She asked, watching as the water filled the clear vase.

"No, why would I do that?" He asked, his head turned like a confused puppy

She laughed to herself bitterly

"Because you make my life hell" She looked at him like it was obvious. Softly placing the flowers on the kitchen table.

"I don't mean to, I'm sorry" his eyes looked sincere but she wasn't sure what trap he was waiting for.

"Then why do you do it?" She asked, her arms crossed as she angrily looked at him. Maybe this was her chance to finally stick up for herself and tell him to shove everything up his ass.

"Because I like you, and I wasn't sure how to show that" he explained, a small blush formed on his face as he muttered the words.

Y/N stood frozen as she stared at him like he had two heads.

Eddie confessed he liked her?

What kind of prank was this?

"Which I can see now I did in every wrong way possible. I'm sorry for everything, I didn't know I was upsetting you."

She sighed as the apology lifted some weight off her body. It felt nice to finally be apologized to.

"Thank you for apologizing," she said, a small smile on her face

"Thank you for allowing me to," he said, a shy smile on his face

They stared at each other, neither knowing what the next move should be.

"Can I uh see your dress? I saw it in the store but didn't get to see what it looked like on you" he asked, his eyes moving to the floor

"Are you going to make fun of me?" She asked, her arms crossed. Her protection shield is back up.

"No!" He shook his head dramatically, "I know my horrible take on flirting was more hurtful. So I will keep my mouth shut" he said

"That was flirting? God, you are horrible" she joked, loving the way the air shifted into something lighthearted. He laughed with her and agreed.

She led him to her room, allowing him to sit on the bed as she went into the bathroom to change.

She slipped on the pink dress, looking at herself in the mirror. That same rush of confidence filled her body. It was like the dress was magical and healed every broken part of her. She tried to reach the back zipper but couldn't get it. Her face was already on fire as she realized what she had to do.

She walked into the room, Eddie looked up from his hands and his mouth dropped. His eyes skimmed over her dress, the way it hugged her body perfectly.

"Could you zip me up?" She asked, turning around as she tried to keep her breathing normal.

He coughed and stood up. Wiping his sweaty palms on his suit pants. His fingers danced down her spine, making her shiver. He reached the zipper and slowly pulled it up, her skin disappearing under the fabric.

The room felt thick as she slowly turned around. The ghost of his fingers was still on her back.

"You look breathtaking," he said, his voice a quiet whisper as he looked into her eyes

She gulped when his eyes dropped down to her lips. Then he was slowly leaning in.

His hand moved up to hold her cheek, and his eyes moved up to her eyes to check for a sign of rejection. But her eyes were zoned in on his lips.

He smirked as he noticed, slowly leaning in until his lips pressed perfectly against hers.

She wasn't sure where to put her hands so she softly placed them on his chest. Her head turned as he deepened the kiss.

She felt like he kept chasing her lips, sucking away her breath as she gripped his suit in her fingers.

Her body buzzed with electricity. His lips and hands were softer than she thought they would be. His kiss was gentle and slow. Her stomach fluttered and her head spun.

He held back his moans as he slipped his tongue in her mouth. Her lips were soft and warm. Her hands on his chest made his heart race and his face flush. He tried his best to not get carried away, not wanting to scare her. His free hand slipped to her back as he pushed her further against him. He never felt this way ever when he kissed a girl.

She pulled back when she felt like she couldn't breathe. She took a huge puff of air into her lungs as they kept their faces close.

Panting against each other as they looked into each other's eyes.

Like she said, it was a magical dress.

Tags!

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[writtenbymoonflower]

Hiyaa!! i LOVE!!! your poly!maraduers x reader fics. i was wondering if you could make a fic where the reader has had an absolute horrid week and just got their period and our sweet boys comfort us bc of how good boyfriends they are 🥹🙏

-🌻

thanks for requesting! I hope this is okay! gn!reader x poly!marauders

cw: period cramps/symptoms, hurt/comfort

1k words

Your eyes were pinched tightly as you clutched your stomach, easing and tightening your hold as the pain ebbed and flowed. You had been feeling crummy all week with no explanation until you were getting ready to take a shower last night and saw the red rorschach stains on your thighs. Thankfully, you hadn’t bled on anything, but you still took extra care to check everywhere you had been sitting. After your panic had subsided, the previous few days had made sense. There had been a grating brick in the bottom of your stomach and a slimy feeling you couldn’t scrub from your skin. Either in addition to or because of these physical feelings, you had been particularly fragile. Your boyfriends had noticed your state, but you never confessed your emotions since there was no clear source, at least, until now. 

You were curled into yourself on the couch, as if the more condensed you were the less pain you would feel. You were nauseous to the point of not being able to stomach pain medicine. You had showered last night but still felt disgustingly greasy. There was a book open on the arm of the couch that you had been pretending to read, but eventually had no energy to continue. Remus was in the armchair next to you with his own book, while James mindlessly flicked through the television channels and Sirius sat in front of the coffee table with an array of snacks before him. They were leaving you mostly alone, probably assuming you were trying to sleep. Another cramp fizzed through your body and you winced, a small whimper escaping. Nearly silent, but Remus’ sharp hearing picked it up. He looked at you, clearly expecting some kind of obvious injury. 

“What’s wrong, dovey?” He looked like he was in pain himself. Remus was all too familiar with pain, but the idea of any of his loved ones hurting was enough to cause instant panic within him. 

“Nothing, I’m fine-” You almost had the sentence out when another cramp hit, making you screw your face up and inhale sharply. Sirius spun around at your reaction. You curled in on yourself further, tensing your stomach. 

“What’s going on with you?” Sirius had his rare no-nonsense tone. When you didn’t give a response he tried to pry your arms away from your torso, but you whined and scooted away. 

“I said it’s nothing.” You wanted to snap but you sounded too pitiful to have your desired effect.

“Hey. I’m not fucking around.” Sirius kept trying to inspect you, his brain clearly already at the worst case scenario. “Did you hurt yourself?”

“Pads, calm down.” James scolded before turning his attention to you. “Let us help you, sweetheart.” He coaxed. You huffed, abandoning your hopes of being modest. 

“It’s really nothing serious. Just some uh, cramping. From… you know.” You tried to smile. The boys confused, and then quickly relieved but they still didn’t go back for their previous activities like you hoped they would.

“Why didn’t you just say that?” Sirius slumped. “I thought you had fucking appendicitis or something.” 

“I think if I had appendicitis it would be a lot worse.”

“I don’t know, lovely girl.” Remus reached over both the arms of his chair and the couch to pet your head. “It looks like you’re hurting pretty badly.” He cooed a sad sound when you winced in pain again. 

“Have you taken anything?” James stood up, already heading to the bathroom medicine cabinet. 

“Not yet.” You said, feeling Remus’ wordless chiding. You could already hear what he wanted to say. ‘You have to get ahead of the pain, dovey.’ You took the pill bottle from James. 

“Have you eaten yet? You can’t take those on an empty stomach.” Remus reminded you. You sighed again, not from cramps this time. 

“No.” You said shamefully. Now you were being judged by the other two boys. 

“Baby,” James groaned, walking towards the kitchen now. Sirius was already shoving a package of mini muffins towards you. “Why?”

“My stomach hurt too much. I couldn’t get up.” You pouted, slowly chewing a muffin. 

“That was when you should’ve asked one of us.” Remus’ gentle bossy tone came out, the way it does when he’s feeling especially protective. 

“I would’ve been fine.” You reasoned. “I get this every month, it’s nothing out of the norm.” 

“That doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt. Do you think it doesn’t hurt for Remus every month?” Sirius had a charcoal-drawn brow raised. 

“That’s different!” You floundered. “Of course it hurts for him.” You got instantly emotional. “I wasn’t saying that.” 

“Pads,” Remus huffed before turning back to you. “I know you weren’t. But you see the point. It still hurts for you.” 

“ And we still wanna look after you.” James appeared with a glass of water and a hot water bottle for your stomach. You took the medicine while he fixed the heat over your abdomen. When he was done he leaned down to kiss your forehead. 

“Thank you.” You mumbled. 

“Don’t thank me, darling.” He said, stroking your hair from your face. You jumped again when Sirius climbed on top of you without warning. 

“Siri! What are you doing?” You squealed as he settled his face into your neck.

“Lovin’ on you.” He said as it was the obvious answer.

“I’m disgusting right now.” You groaned, pushing his shoulders to shove him off. He just dead weighted and pulled you in closer. 

“Not possible, you’re mine.” He argued. James scoffed. 

“Oi! Not just yours!” James shoved Sirius away so he could kiss all over your scrunched face. You all but shrieked before he stopped, turning his attention to the TV remote. Sirius turned the two of you so you were on your sides, your back to his front facing the television. His hand was holding the hot water bottle to your stomach. Remus closed his book and laid on his side. His tall frame was folded in a way that was probably aching, but he still held it. He settled his head on the arm of his chair, nearly touching yours and Sirius’. 

“Are you feeling better, sweet thing?” Sirius asked quietly. 

“I do. Thank you.” You sounded awfully sleepy. 

“Wow. You two just shamelessly took advantage of the situation to turn us into the napping house.” James was trying to sound scolding but it just came out as affection. 

“It’s called being supportive, Prongs.” Sirius sassed, but you and Remus were already out. 

[megalony]

I'll Take Him

This is an Evan Buckley request from anon, this is a rather sad/ angsty request which I was more than happy to write. I hope you will all like it, let me know what you think.

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Evan Buckley Masterlist

Summary: While at home, Evan has to try and help (Y/n) when she suffers a miscarriage.

Enjoy.

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A quiet, discontented groan passed Evan's lips while his left hand flopped out on the nightstand to turn off the alarm.

It was so early. He felt like he had gone to bed five minutes ago. Why did his shift have to start this early in a morning? Why couldn't his shifts line up to start at lunchtime? Evan needed time to wake up and come alive and restart his brain in the morning, being up early didn't do him any favour.

With a grunt, he twisted to the right and shimmied onto his side, flopping his left arm out to try and reach for the familiar weight and source of heat next to him.

His brows furrowed when his hand flopped against a knee rather than an arm or a waist like he was expecting.

Evan groggily opened his eyes and looked up with a frown forming on his lips. (Y/n) was awake; more specifically, she was sitting up. Why was she up this early? She didn't have to go to work today and even if she did, she never had to be up this early like he did.

His fingers glided over the hard joint of her knee and he feathered his touch up and down her exposed thigh while he lifted his head from the pillow to look up at her. His eyes raked her up and down, taking in the way she was sat to see what she was up to.

Her back and shoulders were slouched into her pillow that was propped up against the headboard, she looked like she had partially melted with the odd way she was sat. Her feet were meshed down into the mattress and her arms were coiled around her middle, trapped between her chest and her knees. She had her chin tilted down into her chest and her eyes were tightly closed.

It was then that Evan realised her skin was burning to the touch and that she was subtly trembling.

"You okay, baby?" He pushed forward to press a soft kiss against her thigh which he squeezed before he shifted to sit up beside her.

He let go of her thigh to stretch his arms up above his head, straining to click his neck into place before he twisted to the side. His knees gently nudged hers and his hand came up to rest on the side of her neck, his thumb swiping across her jaw until she opened her eyes.

Evan didn't like the pain he could see swirling in those dark pupils or the tears that were starting to fall down her face.

"What's up?" He murmured softly, leaning over to peck her cheek when (Y/n) leaned her cheek into his palm. She nuzzled into his touch, unlocking one arm from her waist so she could deadlock her fingers around Evan's wrist as if to make sure he wasn't about to let her go.

"Don't feel good,"

(Y/n) let her feet slide down so her legs could flop against the bed again. For a while now, she hadn't been able to sleep. All she could do was fidget and squirm and groan. She felt sick. She felt like her stomach was twisting and cramping and the dull pain was slowly igniting as she woke up.

Normally, Evan would get up before her and get ready, he would kiss her goodbye and (Y/n) would stay in bed for another hour or two when Evan left early like this. Not today. Today (Y/n) felt like she was going to be spending the day moping about the apartment, trying to make herself feel better. She wasn't quite in the mood to sit still, she didn't know what to do with herself.

One leg crossed over Evan's bent leg and she leaned forward to tuck her face into the crook of his neck, nuzzling her cheek against his bare shoulder. She felt his fingers continue to feather up and down her cheek before he pressed the back of his hand against her temple.

"You're flushed." He commented quietly, kissing her temple while she pushed further into his chest and hummed. "Want me to grab you a drink and some meds?"

"I'll come down." (Y/n) found the will to unlatch herself from Evan but she gingerly held her hands out which made him smile.

She knew he had to get up for work now and he would be heading down for a shower and to get ready. She may as well head downstairs with him, she wasn't going to be able to sleep anymore.

His lips formed into a tender curve and he held her hands, gently easing her up from the bed and letting her weight fall into him. His hands moved down to hold her hips and he attached his lips to the top of her head, waiting patiently for (Y/n) to move first so he knew she was alright.

Evan kept his hands on her hips and his lips meshed against the back of her head when she turned around in his arms and aimed for the stairs. He didn't like how she was still shaking or the way her arms coiled around her waist like she wasn't sure whether she needed to throw up or curl up in a ball.

(Y/n) could feel her head spinning as they walked down the stairs like they were conjoined. By the time they reached the bottom of the stairs, (Y/n) gripped the bottom of the bannister and leaned against it, hanging her head forward as her eyes fell closed.

"Go sit down baby. I'll grab a shower and find you some painkillers, I've got some electrolyte drinks somewhere, that'll help too."

His hands dug into her waist and his chest curved down around her back that was hunched forward. He twisted (Y/n) to the left, turning her around the bannister and in the direction of the living room at the back of the loft. (Y/n) was in no state to go looking through the cupboards for painkillers or make herself a drink.

Evan needed a shower to wake himself up. Once he'd done that, he would find all the meds he had in the cupboards and some of the energy drinks he kept around for sickness emergencies or after a rough shift. And he would see if (Y/n) was in the mood for something to eat or not, Evan usually grabbed a snack for breakfast, just to keep him going because lunch and dinners were always hefty at the station, especially on busy shifts.

He followed his gut and kept hold of (Y/n) with his arms curved around her waist and his chest glued against her back. He felt like she was a doll he was parading round and practically carrying to the sofa. If she didn't look well by the time he'd gotten ready, he would either call in sick or see if he could finish his shift early and come home to look after her.

His brows furrowed and his lips pursed when he watched the way (Y/n) reached out for the sofa and heaved herself down, curling up like a creature trying to hide from a threat. Her knees tucked into her abdomen and her arms wrapped around her chest. She buried her face in the cushion and huffed, trembling subtly while Evan flicked the tv on for background noise.

"Won't be long," He mused against her temple before he kissed her cheek, then the tip of her nose and finally her lips when she tilted her head up, chasing after his lips.

(Y/n) felt like static was building up in her ears after Evan's touch was gone and the sound of him became faint and distant. She could barely hear the shower turning on when usually, with how close the bathroom was to the living room, she could always hear him. (Y/n) could usually hear the water running and Evan singing along to whatever tunes he had playing on his phone, typically any eighties song.

She wasn't sure whether he even had any music playing or not, the buzzing in her ears was getting louder and louder.

Her arms bound around her waist and moved lower until her palms were digging into her abdomen that felt like it was being cut apart.

What was going on? Why was she having pains this badly? She felt like she was having three different stomach infections all at once. Like five periods one after the other continuously. The pain was so intense (Y/n) was beginning to debate whether someone had come in and poisoned or stabbed her during the night.

Tears flushed down her face and soaked into the cushion and she shifted onto her right side, curling up as much as she could until the pains started to change into sharp cramps that had her mewling and twisting into odd shapes.

"E-Evan… please…" She wasn't quite sure what she was asking for and (Y/n) knew her voice was so quiet she doubted Evan could actually hear her.

She couldn't open her eyes. Her face stayed burrowed into the cushion and she continued to mewl his name through quiet sobs until the bathroom door clicked open and she tried to call out a bit louder.

"Baby? Baby what's the matter?" Evan carded his fingers through his damp hair, toussling the strands away from his eyes while he darted out of the bathroom. Her voice was so faint it sounded like she was calling out from the next apartment.

Evan darted past the stairs and into the living room, cringing at the way his work shirt clung to his back that he hadn't properly dried in his haste to hurry up his morning routine. And he could feel his trousers sticking around his knees and his bare feet sticking and thumping against the floor as he tried to be swift.

He knelt down on the floor in front of the sofa, cradling the side of (Y/n)'s face until she opened her eyes and looked at his panicked expression and furrowed brows.

Tears were drenched down her face and she was sniffling and gasping for each breath. Her hand shakily reached out to grip the collar of his shirt and Evan inched closer until his knees bumped the edge of the sofa and he was hovering over her like she seemed to want him to do.

A quiet but nevertheless painful "Oow," tumbled past (Y/n)'s quivering lips and her knees jabbed into her abdomen as if to prove her point and silently show Evan where the pain was.

"What kind of pain are you in, sweetheart? Throbbing, stabbing pains or constant aches?" Evan carded his fingers through (Y/n)'s hair, brushing it back from her face and tucking it behind her ear while he waited patiently for her to debate and find an answer.

"S-stabbing pain,"

Evan nodded, trying to smile to keep her calm like he did for patients when he was at work. Panicking would do nothing to help (Y/n) and this could be something minor, hundreds of possibilities were rushing through Evan's mind already. He had seen thousands of different reasons for pains like this when he went on callouts with the team.

"Okay, can I?" He motioned his hands towards her stomach. Asking questions was only going to get him so far, he needed to try and assess her to find out what was going on.

It could be something to do with her intestines because of where she was saying the pain was. He wasn't so sure it would be her bladder, that would be a bit further down and Evan had had bladder infections before, he knew the signs and symptoms. And he knew it was easier to tell if it was the bladder, the pain was direct and couldn't really be mistaken for anything else.

When she nodded, Evan pushed up on his knees and carefully nudged her until she was laid on her back rather than her side.

His fingers deftly curled beneath her pyjama shirt and rolled it up so he could look at her stomach. He pressed the base of his hands around her tummy and down near her hips to try and feel for any lump or abnormality without applying too much pressure to hurt her. He didn't like the reaction he got; flinches, whimpers and then a bursting cry when he pressed below her belly button.

The sound made him wince and he retracted his hands quickly. He wasn't trying to cause her any more pain, he was only trying to find out the source and see what he could do to help. But he had a feeling he might be calling an ambulance soon.

"I don't think it's a hernia… sweetheart, I just wanna take a quick look, okay?"

(Y/n) wasn't sure what he was talking about until he moved his hands down towards her shorts and waited for her to nod.

When she did, Evan tugged her shorts and underwear down and shuffled across to be level with her thighs rather than with her shoulders.

His hands were gentle when they clamped around her thighs and parted her knees to the side but (Y/n) couldn't keep her eyes on him for long. The pain was too overwhelming. Her eyes snapped closed and it took all her strength not to clamp her legs together and pull her knees up to her chest.

"Baby…" Evan dug his fingers down into (Y/n)'s thighs until he was leaving indents and bruises in his wake. He smoothed his hands up and down her exposed thighs while he took a deep breath and leaned forward. "When was your last period?"

Her brows furrowed and her breath caught in her throat. Why was he asking her that? What did that have to do with her aches and pains? What did Evan think was happening?

"I- I don't…" Her head shook in answer to his question.

She didn't know. (Y/n) hadn't exactly kept track of her period recently, but now she was trying to think through a fuzzy, fogged over brain, she couldn't remember. She couldn't remember the last time she had a period that lasted more than two days. She couldn't remember being in pain with cramps or bleeding heavily like she usually did in the first few days.

She froze, her body going stiff when Evan pressed the heel of his hand back into her lower abdomen a few times until she was squirming and whimpering beneath him.

"Oh sweetheart, I think I'm gonna have to call an ambulance. I think you're having a miscarriage."

The way Evan dragged his hand across his face and down his jaw made a shudder course through (Y/n)'s body. She tried to push up on her elbows to look at him but her arms started to shake and she had to flop back down against the sofa. Her head pressed back into the cushion and a round of trembling set in her system as her stomach gave an awful twinge.

How could she be having a miscarriage? How could she be pregnant? How far along was she?

(Y/n) couldn't be pregnant. She didn't look pregnant, she didn't have a raised stomach or a bump or any abdominal movement to suggest she was having a baby. She'd had no back pain or morning sickness, no swollen ankles or cravings or obvious changes. Did that mean she wasn't far along? Would she be in this much pain if she was only one or two months gone?

When (Y/n) started to cry, Evan leaned over to kiss her knee and tried to rub his hands along her thighs. He didn't mean to upset or frighten her, but that seemed the most likely situation right now and if this was happening, Evan had to make a phone call.

"I'm gonna go grab my phone and a few things-"

"No- oow, Evan, d-don't leave me." (Y/n) mewled desperately and latched her fingers around his wrist, pulling him back as she leaned forward to crumple in on herself. Something was happening. He couldn't leave her, not for a minute, not even for a second. He had to stay with her.

"Shh hey, hey I'm not leaving you, okay? One second, sweetheart just one second that's all." He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her temple before he carefully unravelled her fingers from his wrist.

He darted from the living room and swiped his phone and two towels from the bathroom before he made a beeline for the kitchen, his thumb already tapping out 911 into the keypad.

"911, What's your emergency?"

"This is firefighter Buckley, I need an ambulance to my location, apartment 4B. My girlfriend, s-she's having a miscarriage."

It didn't take long for Evan to reel off (Y/n) name and date of birth and the few details the dispatcher needed to know. He couldn't think of the last time he'd had to call 911. The only times he actually called them was when he'd witnessed a few fights and bar brawls when he was younger. He'd never called for an ambulance and the most Evan spoke to dispatch was over the radio frequency at work.

He didn't want to stay on the line, he didn't need the lady on the other end to pull up the reference sheet. Evan knew what to expect and he knew what to do. She couldn't help him. He needed paramedics here, he needed physical help, not useless words over a broken line.

He shoved his phone back in his pocket once the ambulance was said to be on the way and he unlocked the front door before he jogged back into the living room. (Y/n)'s cries acting as a guide to draw him back to her, not that he needed to be drawn back. His head and his heart were reaching out for her so painfully Evan thought he might be in need of medical assistance soon too.

"Alright baby, shh, I've got you."

Evan sank down on the sofa in front of (Y/n)'s legs and he curled his fingers around the back of her calves, leaning forward to pepper a few chaste kisses to her knee to try and calm her down. She had managed to sit up against the arm of the sofa, her chin tucked down into her chest, tears drenching her face and her hands clutching her thighs so tightly she was scratching blood beneath her nails.

"Just push through the pain, baby. It'll all be over soon, I've got you."

His hands continued to rub up and down (Y/n)'s knees while he tucked his chest down near her thighs. He had delivered a few babies on the job alongside Bobby over the years, but never one where a woman didn't know she was pregnant. And this wasn't just anyone. This was Evan's girl. He was going to be a dad.

He was going to have a baby, but Evan's head was overriding the feelings in his heart. He might be a dad, but he wasn't going to end up with a kicking baby after all of this.

Every part of Evan's ADHD brain was going on red alert, one part was composed and going through the protocol for what he was supposed to do. Another was counting how long it was taking for the paramedics to arrive. A third section of his overloaded brain was trying to keep a check over (Y/n), make sure she wasn't bleeding or going into a panic or about to pass out on him.

Then there was another part. The logical side of his brain getting to work. (Y/n) didn't have a bump. She didn't think she might have been pregnant, this wasn't technically labour in specific terms, this was a miscarriage. Evan didn't have high hopes for resuscitating or keeping his baby alive. And the logical side was trying to think how far along (Y/n) could be.

The New Year's party came to mind despite how Evan kept shaking his head to try and distract himself from the math. That was five months ago. That was when they had snuck into the bunker room at the station. The party- and maybe one or two drunken times around then- was when Evan wasn't sure they'd used protection.

Five months was the marker he was giving them here, that would put (Y/n) somewhere around twenty weeks or so. Twenty-four weeks was the main limit for preemie babies, anything before that was a miscarriage and didn't give them good odds.

(Y/n)'s sharp cries brought Evan out of his consuming thoughts and he gave her thigh a squeeze while (Y/n) reached out and clamped her hand down on his shoulder.

"Okay, okay here we go. Almost over." Evan realised his voice was oddly meek and broken as he reached out for a towel to drape over his hands.

Ready for his baby. His baby. God, he was going to be a dad. He would still be classed as a dad after this, wouldn't he?

He shuffled forward when (Y/n) pushed back, scraping her heels against the sofa as she let go of Evan's shoulder and moved to steady herself by holding the back of the sofa instead. Her other hand scrunched up the sofa cushion beneath her and she cried, choking on sobs and a deafening scream that Evan could barely hear.

"All done, all done," He murmured against her thigh, kissing her flushed skin while his hands began to shake.

He had to blink a few times to clear the tears and adjust his blurred vision to look down at the bundle in the towel he was cradling.

Both hands started to shake so badly Evan had to reel his arms into his chest to steady himself. He pushed up on his knees and hunched his chest over, swiping his cheek against his shoulder to brush away the tears. He couldn't stop his body from trembling or his thumb from brushing across the newborn's head through the towel.

He became lost in thought, staring down at his hands for a few seconds, maybe minutes, he wasn't sure. Until (Y/n)'s knees dropped down and her foot nudged his thigh to gain his attention.

"Evan…?"

The tiny, almost unperceptive shake of his head was enough to make a sob burn at the back of (Y/n)'s throat and she let go of the sofa to smother her hand across her face.

What had she done?

For a dreaded, hopeful second, she thought Evan might be able to do something. She wondered if she might be far enough along for Evan to help, to do some form of CPR. To do anything to give their baby a chance. But there was nothing he could do. There was no movement, no pulse, no breathing or heartbeat and Evan didn't know how long that had been the case. They were too small. There was nothing he could do.

"Boy. A boy," Evan's voice sounded defeated and (Y/n) had never heard such heartache in his tone. She could hear his words breaking apart along with his voice that was scratchy and deep and the way his shoulders started to shake made her cry harder.

She watched, hand to her burning temple, as Evan slumped from his knees to sit down on the sofa instead of kneeling up. He sank back, letting his energy deplete and allowing his frame to melt and sink into the sofa like he was made of wax that was slowly melting and losing shape.

But his arms stayed locked in position while the rest of him loosened and went slack. Even his jaw hung down, allowing deep, croaky breaths to pass his lips, but his hands and arms stayed frozen.

"Do, do you… um?" He couldn't seem to fathom how to speak or form any words, but Evan managed to indicate his arms towards (Y/n) to show what he meant.

(Y/n) sank her teeth down into her lip harsh enough to draw blood. She wasn't sure. She didn't know if she wanted to look or have a hold. She didn't know what that would stir up inside of her or how it would make her feel. But not looking almost felt criminal. Not taking a glance or feeling that tiny weight felt like committing a crime against herself.

Her arms shakily held out before she could think better of it. She felt Evan slump his chest against her knees and he carefully slid the towel into her arms instead. Letting go felt wrong. Evan felt empty, like he was passing the baton when he should continue the race. It felt like he had given part of himself away.

He wanted to keep him. He wanted to hold onto him until he physically wasn't allowed to anymore.

When (Y/n) started to cry, Evan found the will and the energy to get up. He shuffled over until his hands found her shoulders and he gently tilted her forward so he could wedge himself into the space behind her. He let her slump back into his chest and both arms bound around her waist while his lips merged with the back of her head.

He stayed curled around her while he heard the unmistakeable sound of a squeaky gurney and heavy footsteps trudging towards the front door. A feeble knock. The announcement of paramedics. Heavy boots entering the apartment and following the sound of the cries.

"What's your name, honey?"

(Y/n) whispered her name to the elder woman who knelt on the floor beside her while a man roughly around Evan's age crouched beside him.

"I'm just gonna take a look at you and give you something to prevent any bleeding, okay?"

She didn't care. She just slumped her head into the crook of Evan's neck, taking shallow breaths against his skin that was burning just as much as hers. Her nose rubbed against his neck and her lips kissed and muttered near his Adam's apple while he dug his fingers into her arm so she knew he was aware and responsive to her touch.

"May I?" The younger medic motioned towards the bundle in (Y/n)'s arms, a solemn look in his eyes and sorrow and empathy written across his face.

(Y/n) didn't want to, but she let him remove the towel from her shaky grip. He didn't move away, he stayed crouching in front of them as if he knew both (Y/n) and Evan would kick up a fuss if he tried to leave their sights with their bundle. Their baby.

Evan heard him murmur "About nineteen to twenty weeks," to the woman who was giving (Y/n) a once over to make sure she was fit for transport. His mental math had been correct. There was nothing Evan could of done, he had a strange feeling the baby hadn't been breathing for a little while, but it didn't matter.

They didn't know about him, and now he was gone.

"Let's get you taken down to the hospital, hm?"

(Y/n) could barely sit forward so she was no longer slumped back against Evan. All the energy drained from her immediately, but something sparked when the medic tried to move. She wasn't sure where he was going or what he was about to do, but before (Y/n) could voice any sort of doubt or panic, Evan had ready reached out and grabbed the man's wrist.

"I'll take him." He had no idea what the medic was going to do or where he would put the baby, but Evan didn't want him to just put him down and forget about him. He would rather hold his boy and keep him safe until they got to the hospital and the doctor would eventually have to take him away.

The medic made no arguments. He tightened the towel around the bundle like he was protecting him from the cold and carefully eased him over to Evan before both medics moved to get (Y/n) on the gurney.

Evan could barely feel his legs when he pushed up to his feet. His knees started to quake and rattle back and forth like twigs that were about to snap. His arms bound the towel tightly to his chest and he took a few shallow breaths, trying to mellow out his system.

His heart gave out an extra beat when he felt (Y/n)'s hand shakily curl around his elbow once she was on the gurney. She wanted him to stay close, almost as if she thought Evan was about to walk off without her or stay behind. He wasn't going to leave her, not for a second.

Evan let his body slump against the gurney, digging his hip into the metal frame to stop his knees from giving out. He could barely find the energy to walk. Evan had never had to think about forcing one leg in front of the other before, not even when he had done a ten mile run and was on that last stretch back home.

A round of trembling set in Evan's system when they got to the ambulance and the medic silently reached out for the towel in his arms. He didn't want to let go, but Evan knew if he didn't let go now, he would end up having a fight when they got to the hospital. The longer he held on, the more resentment was going to build up inside of him and take over.

His arms felt oddly empty when he let go and he took a moment to lean against the back door, taking large gulps of fresh air that hit him like one of the engines at work.

He heaved himself into the ambulance and flopped down onto a seat, slumping his elbows down on his thighs while his head dropped forward and his shoulders arched over.

He almost gasped when the gurney was pushed in and he suddenly felt (Y/n)'s hand on the nape of his neck. (Y/n)'s fingers carded across the back of his neck and tangled in the short hairs at the back of his head. He felt her other hand drag along his arm and he shuffled closer, slumping his arms on the gurney beside her with his forehead pressing into her waist.

(Y/n closed her eyes and tilted to the left, bringing her knees up while she nuzzled her face into the top of Evan's hair. She could smell her lavender soap on him that he always swore he didn't use, but they both secretly knew he did. And she could smell his cologne that always made (Y/n) think of leather.

Her left arm continued to stroke through Evan's hair while she let the medic gently take her right hand to set an IV line into the back of her hand. The feeling of Evan's hand gliding over her waist made (Y/n) shiver but she didn't pull away. She waited while his arm looped over her waist, trying to be as gentle as possible until he could glide his hand up and down the side of her chest.

It seemed to take a lifetime to arrive at the hospital, (Y/n) felt like they had been travelling for hours rather than just a few minutes.

Part of (Y/n) wondered if Evan needed to be taken in on a separate gurney, he didn't look like he could walk. When she watched him stand up, her hand moved out to his hip, trying to get hold of him in case he wobbled he fell.

Once he seemed to get his balance, Evan trudged out the ambulance and (Y/n) closed her eyes, warding off the headache building behind her temple. She curled both arms around her throbbing waist, trying to be careful with the IV in her hand that she was already desperate to rip out. She was starting to feel sick again.

Evan followed the medic's lead but he slowed down when he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. He had felt it chiming in his pocket every now and then with messages and he wasn't sure if it had rung or not on the way here. Every sense Evan had was frazzled and zoning in and out. When he was focusing on watching (Y/n), he could barely hear anything. When he tried to listen, he couldn't take note of the way he felt or the ache in his heart or the throbbing in his temple. Every sense and nerve was breaking apart.

He fished his phone out and tried to look down at the screen which was blurring before his eyes.

He didn't realise he had stopped walking until (Y/n) was quietly calling his name, stretching her hand out for him. She didn't want him to disappear. She didn't want to be taken somewhere without Evan by her side.

"I'm here, sweetheart." He reached out for her hand and continued to walk alongside the gurney.

Eddie was calling.

He had called three times by the look of the missed calls on Evan's phone and the few messages he had received. Bobby had messaged him too. He was supposed to be at work; with everything that had gone on this morning, Evan's mind came up blank about going to work.

It slipped his mind, he didn't even realise he was still in his work clothes until he looked down at his itchy, ironed trousers and the matching blue cotton shirt with the fire station logo on the left breast.

"Yeah?" Evan's voice came out exasperated and gritty as he pinned his phone against his ear and shuffled his jelly legs through the emergency room doorway.

He was thankful that they didn't have to go and wait in reception, they went straight through the paramedic's entrance and were guided towards a vacant cubicle on the left. He could hear the hum-drum of the station in the background of the call and he felt bad for not telling Bobby sooner that he would be a person down for the A shift today.

"Buck… is everything okay? You uh, you should have been on shift this morning, you held up?"

"I- fuck, I'm not gonna be in today, can you tell Bobby for me?" He suddenly realised how sore and swollen his eyes felt when he brushed his hand against them.

He pushed himself up against the wall, wedged between a medicine trolley and the bed in the middle of the room. As soon as (Y/n) was transferred onto the bed, Evan eased down on the side of the bed, hearing it squeak beneath his weight causing him to grimace. He lifted his arm so (Y/n) could worm beneath it and curl up against his chest.

"What's wrong, Buck has something happened? Do you need help?" Eddie couldn't help the twenty questions.

He knew Evan, he knew each different mood and tone and he knew when Evan was having a bad day or a hyper day. He knew when something was wrong and right now, he could hear the scratchy tone in Evan's low voice. He had been crying. It took a lot for anyone on the team to see Evan cry and that told Eddie something bad was going on.

"I'm at the hospital with (Y/n)."

"Who?"

Evan hadn't introduced them yet. He hadn't found the right time to tell the team about (Y/n). In all his other relationships, introducing his partner always led to trouble. Evan loved (Y/n), he wanted to keep what they had to himself and keep it preserved and special. He wanted to find the right time to tell the team he had someone special in his life.

Maddie was the only one who knew Evan had a certain someone in his life because she knew (Y/n) had moved in with him. Therefore, Chimney suspected Evan had a partner, but he hadn't been introduced to her yet.

This wasn't the way Evan wanted things to go. This wasn't how he wanted to tell them.

"My partner. Eddie, she," Evan tilted his head down and pulled the phone away so he could swipe his hand across his face, ridding the tears he couldn't seem to stop shedding. "She's had a miscarriage."

He couldn't bring himself to wait for Eddie's response. He didn't want the sympathy, the panic and the sorrow that would undoubtedly come through the line. Evan didn't want any of that because this shouldn't be happening. He shouldn't be having this conversation. This shouldn't be happening to (Y/n); to them.

They didn't deserve this.

***

"Buck?"

Evan couldn't move. He couldn't find the will or the energy to lift his head or use his voice that had gone raw from crying. He didn't know how to break out of the trance he seemed to have put himself under for the last few minutes, maybe hours, he couldn't tell anymore.

He stayed slumped forward in the chair, his elbows on his knees, his nails scratching into the back of his neck. His head almost pressing between his thighs while his shoulders hunched forward.

He didn't need to ask to know how they knew where he would be. Evan knew Chimney would of rung Maddie who would have caved and told them (Y/n)'s name and what room she was in. Evan had already called her this morning. He had cried down the phone and begged her to come down to the ward once she finished her shift at dispatch.

It didn't take much to figure out that she had told the team where to find Evan, she was worried about him and (Y/n) being on their own right now.

His eyes remained closed while he felt someone take a seat next to him and when a strong, familiar arm looped around his shoulders, Evan shuddered. He leaned to the left and slumped his head against Bobby's chest. For once, he felt like a child again.

He felt like a teenager seeking comfort from his parents, and instead of Maddie always having to patch him up and hold his broken pieces together, it was Bobby. It was someone he classed as a parental figure.

His shoulders quaked with a silent sob that rumbled past his lips and his hands finally left his neck that was scratched to pieces so he could tangle his fingers together on his lap.

When he finally found the will to open his watering eyes, Evan was surprised. The only other person in the corridor was Eddie. He watched Eddie push forward and slump down next to him, wedging Evan safely between them. Part of him thought the whole team would have come down here to find out what was happening. He thought Hen would try to probe at why he didn't introduce them earlier. He thought they would try and meet (Y/n) or come see him and sit with him or bargain to get him to go home and rest or shower or something.

Maybe they had to stay on shift, not everyone could take a time out to come and see him.

"What's going on?" Bobby's voice was soft and there was an undertone of understanding that made Evan shake.

"We had a baby." Somehow, his voice didn't sound the same. It didn't sound like Buck who worked with the team, or Evan when he was home with (Y/n). It sounded broken, unwanted, unheard. It sounded like Evan, the little boy breaking his bones to get his parents to want him.

Bobby looped his right arm tighter around Evan's shoulders while his other hand brushed over his jaw. He looked up from the boy curled into his chest to lock eyes with Eddie. He watched Eddie start to run his hand up and down Evan's back, trying to show him they were here, they were listening, and they would comfort him if that was what he wanted. What he needed.

"You… you didn't mention this before now,"

"We didn't know."

A tremor rattled down Eddie's spine and sent a shockwave through his heart. He tried not to tighten his hand in Evan's shirt, but that voice just broke him completely.

"I'm sorry, buck. Things like this are complicated, and there's not always a reason-"

"I held him." Evan closed his eyes again and let himself fall further into Bobby's chest. He let Bobby slouch back and sank further into him, seeking comfort like Bobby was a shell Evan wanted to climb into for protection and love and hope.

"What?" Shuffling forward, Eddie leaned a little closer to try and understand what Evan was talking about.

He hadn't made a lot of sense on the phone. One moment Eddie learned Evan had a girlfriend, the next he found out Evan was at the hospital and his new mysterious partner had suffered a miscarriage. When Evan wouldn't pick up or respond to any more calls, Eddie had gone straight to Bobby. They all agreed it was best that only the pair of them saw Evan for now.

The last thing they wanted was to bombard Evan and (Y/n) and overwhelm them or upset them at this moment. They had been prepared and willing to turn around and go back to the station if Evan told them to leave. If the couple wanted to be alone, they would go. But they had to come here and see if Evan was alright first, and clearly, he wasn't.

"I d-delivered him, but he… I don't know where t-they took him. He's gone."

Both Bobby's arms wrapped tightly around Evan when it felt like he was either going to start convulsing or was about to slide off his chair. He sighed, fighting off tears that were threatening to fall when he felt Evan's tears soaking into his shirt and his hands clutching Bobby's forearm.

He could feel the sharp, gulping breaths Evan took which ended up in broken sobs. He could feel the shaking rattling through him and Eddie, both men trembling along with Evan like they were all being electrocuted. And he could see the tears in Eddie's eyes as he clung to Evan that little bit tighter like he felt he too was falling apart.

Evan had no idea where his boy was now. He didn't know where the nurse had taken him when they arrived in the emergency room. And now (Y/n) was on a ward, Evan just knew that was it. He was gone. They weren't going to get him back.

But Evan couldn't get that feeling out of his arms. He couldn't shake that feeling of something so delicate being in his arms. He couldn't forget that little weight in his arms and on his chest. He couldn't scrub the blood and fluids from his hands or rid it from beneath his nails along with the blood he had scratched under there.

He couldn't forget that little motionless body or ignore (Y/n)'s scream that still rattled around in his head.

What was he supposed to do now?