#he does go to university in person occasionally but he does things at home in his own time by himself for the most part

[with-my-calamitous-love]

YOU’RE IN THE KITCHEN HUMMING

osamu dazai x reader

you show dazai the beauty in domestic life

inspired by sweet nothing

when dazai pictured his future, he pictured it short.

a mastermind of people, he knew that that the universe would eventually catch up to him. to his crimes, his wrongdoings, and all of his faults. truth be told, he pictured himself in some sort of prison, bleeding out on a stake of revenge, or simply just gone. he never exactly rejected death in the first place. he accepted it with open arms.

so to think he’d find himself, washing dishes from leftover marinated crab meat and glasses stained with sake while you do the laundry is more of a surprise than anything else. every now and then he looks over his shoulder, watching how you handle the delicate fabric of his brown vest with such care. you always use unscented soap. though you certainly have the money to buy lavender, or bergamot, the two of you enjoyed the simplicity of regular soap. because then, it has the scent of home.

but what exactly does home smell like? for so many years, he couldn’t answer that question. how do you match a scent to something that doesn’t exist? maybe he’d say it smelt like the port mafia hallways, or the smell of old bandages. maybe dazai felt that home smelled like it wasn’t there to stay.

now, home smells like you. it smells like the face mask you make him use because he takes shit care of himself. it smells like your bare shoulder in the morning, the patch of skin he always insists he kisses you awake on. it smells like your laughter, your smile, your beautiful eyes. you were home.

“samu?” you quip, pulling your boyfriend out of his trances. he blinks, his lazily draped arms subconsciously tightening around you.

“yes bella?” he asks, his voice lazy and his brown eyes tired from the day. if he could melt and simply become apart of you, he would. you’re the only part of himself he actually seems to love, anyway.

“were you listening?” you chuckle, knowing that he’s a thinker. he loves you for understanding that, for knowing the signs when he’s lost in his own brain. his nail biting, his wandering eyes, his occasional hums. you know it all, maybe better than dazai knows it about himself. you’d give anything to see what he’s thinking, the beautiful equations in his brain.

his lips curve into a smile, refocusing on you as you laid in his lap all tuckered out. “i’m sorry.”

you sigh, half disappointed but half too-love-struck-to-care. he pulls you flush against his chest, letting you listen to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. oh, how beautiful it sounds.

“i was saying we should go down to that new bakery.” you hum, not minding to recount your experiences for him. “atsushi told me kyouka really likes the crepes there.”

you know he’s listening this time, evident by the way his slender fingers travel through your hair. he loves the silky feel of it, how it may be the softest thing he’s ever felt after years of strangling throats and pulling triggers.

he melts onto that couch with you. the only other sound that can be heard is the occasional drip and drop from the sink. he makes a mental note to check on it in the morning, making sure its not leaking too much.

in his experience, everyone was up to something. no person was just kind for the sake of being kind. and for all his life, people wanted things from dazai. he was used and shaped into a demon when all he’s ever wanted was just to disappear. he insists he’s fine, and that this is just the person he is. he assures everyone that the voices he hears, in and external, don’t bother him at all.

but to you he can admit, that sometimes, he’s just too soft for all of it.

you built a home from the ground up with him. you sheltered and fed a man who never knew what it was like to be loved without condition. all you ever wanted from dazai was nothing. sweet, sweet nothings. and he knew he’d give you everything he is and more in return for that love, for those sweet nothings.

[magniloquent-raven]

Harringrove AU

Steve and Nancy got married right out of high school, because Steve was madly in love and it was the thing to do, and Nancy always liked him, she really did, and she thought. Y'know. He's a good guy. He's a catch, everyone says so.

They stay married for years, and they grow apart. And they argue. They get mean. It wasn't malicious at first, but the longer it goes on the more they resent each other.

Meanwhile Billy got his shit together enough to put himself through university. Get a degree. Get a cushy job helping rich people avoid messy divorce. It wasn't his first choice of career paths, it just sort of. Happened. Partly to spite his father, like a lot of the big choices he makes in life. Neil was always very down on the concept of therapy. When Billy was a child teachers would occasionally tell Neil he should think about getting Billy professional help. Which Billy was always punished for when they got home.

So maybe he wanted to see what all the fuss was about with this therapy stuff. Psychology turned out to be interesting. He ended up being good at it.

Until he isn't. When Steve Harrington walks into his office and fucks everything up by being everything Billy wants in a man and married to a woman who does not appreciate him. And Billy gets incredibly unprofessional.

Also I think it would be super funny if Jonathan was Billy's secretary, so Steve and Nancy are both like, yes, totally, I want to go to this couples counselling session for our relationship, not because I want to fuck the person trying to help us.

The mess. The chaos. Imagine it.

[redstarwriting]

protected

hobie brown x o’hara!reader

request?: yes

request: “I know you’re probably busy 🙏🏽 but can I request a hobie x reader Where reader is miguels kid but from another universe and we were known as “dangerous” to the multiverse and miguel had to watch over us and we find out while hanging out with hobie and hobie has to comfort us as we try to process the fact that Miguel wasn’t our real dad and just someone keeping the mutliverse safe?

I really hope this makes sense i just don’t know how to make is make sense uk? 😭 💀”

requested by: @millerworld​

word count: 1.7k

genre: angst with some fluff

Warnings: language, mentions of childbirth death, big feelings of betrayal, probably horrible spanish, honestly a lot of angst

A/N: apologies for the wait for this one! i love writing angst though so i was rubbing my hands together like an evil lil bitch writing this. i apologize if the spanish is wrong/not how it would actually be said/worded. been a minute since i took a spanish course, so i am a little rusty. please enjoy, and thank you so much for requesting, love! :)

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Ever since you remembered your dad, Miguel O’Hara, was there. Of course, there are certain moments of your childhood you don’t remember, as every child has, but your earliest memory is your dad picking you up and soothing you as you cried at two years old. And ever since then, he was always there. Your friends at school would always say you were so lucky that you had a dad that was so devoted to you, and you agreed. To an extent. See, he was very particular about what he allowed you to do. It wasn’t in a negative way, necessarily, he was just protective. His favorite saying and your least favorite saying in your house was ‘I just want what’s best for you, cariño.’

It resulted in you staying home from school events, friend events, and generally any type of event where your safety could have been compromised. It caused you to be a bit of a loner, always hearing about the parties, the gossip, all of it instead of actually experiencing it for yourself.

Of course, it annoyed you.

It still does.

He’s loosened up a bit eventually, though, allowing you to go to work with him. Which also meant you got to meet many spiders. Quite a few of the spider-people quickly became your closest friends, as it was simpler and easier for your dad to keep tabs on you in Spider Society. Much to his chagrin, you quickly became best friends with Hobie Brown. The two of you were around the same age, and since you were annoyed at your dad and in your rebellious era, you got along swimmingly. A little too swimmingly, actually, which Miguel purposefully chose to ignore for the most part. Until he saw Hobie sucking his little one’s face off. Regardless, Hobie was always quick to validate all your conflicted, annoyed, and even positive feelings about your father. He even helped you come out of your shell and rebel against Miguel occasionally.

Miguel didn’t like this very much, but he also knew that Hobie was still a good influence on you. No matter how many times both of you tried to convince him that he wasn’t. But sometimes, Hobie would talk you into doing things that he very much disliked. Hated, even. And this time was one of those times. While he was out, containing a particularly difficult anomaly, Hobie convinced you to search through Miguel’s personal files on his supercomputer because he bet if your birth certificate would be anywhere, it would be there. When you found a folder with your name, you expected to open it to see some family pictures, hoping for your birth certificate with the name of your mom. Your dad never really talked about your mom, just that she passed away during childbirth. You stopped asking because every time you did, he would get very quiet and a guilty look would appear on his face. But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious. So you went into this endeavor excited to see what you might find out. Unfortunately, that excitement didn’t last for very long. See when you opened your file expecting these mundane things, that wasn’t what you were met with.

In fact, that was nowhere near what you found.

You found detailed notes all about you.

“What the hell,” you mumble, scrolling through the various pictures of you as an infant, with two adult strangers. Hobie said nothing, looking at all the pictures and skimming the important parts of all the files you were pulling up with a frown on his face. You stop on a specific picture of a woman holding you in a hospital bed. She was smiling.

And she was very much alive.

Tears immediately start to well up in your eyes as Hobie gently pulls your hands away from the computer. “Think that’s enough a’ that, love,” he says softly. You yank your arms away from him. “No.” You scroll to the next photo, seeing a man you’ve never met before holding you in the same hospital room, with the same strange woman right next to him. The next time you scroll, it’s a detailed account from Miguel about who you are. Notes from your dad declaring you a ‘danger’ and that you ‘must be contained somehow.’ Talk of your biological parents, their names, and how you had to be separated from them before ‘irreversible damage was done to the multiverse.’

You stare at the screen, and Hobie pulls your hands away again, successfully this time. He steps between you and the screens, blocking your view and slowly walking you backward and away from the files. You’re too shocked to say anything, the only thing you can do is quietly cry. Hobie opens his mouth to say something when Miguel’s voice rings out. “What do the two of you think you’re doing?”

The two of you turn your heads toward Miguel, and his annoyed frown turns to one of concern as soon as he sees the look on your face. “¿Qué tienes, mi corazón?” Miguel asks, his voice much softer as he approaches you. Hobie moves, positioning himself between you and your ‘father,’ and scoffs. “Think you got some explainin’ to do ‘ere, mate,” Hobie says, and Miguel looks at him confused. Then he sees what’s on the screen. A look of horrified realization spreads across his face, and he looks at you. “(Y/n), cariño, I can explain.”

“Don’t call me that,” your voice, albeit shaky, finally comes back to you. Hobie turns his attention to you, squeezing the hand you’ve been holding onto for dear life ever since he pulled you away from the computer. “(Y/n)—”

“Who am I? Who are you to me?”

“…Please, let me—”

“WHO ARE THOSE PEOPLE?!” you shout, desperately yearning for your dad to say they weren’t what was said in his reports. But all he does is frown. “They’re… they are your biological parents,” he confesses, and you make a choked noise. Hobie subtly begins turning his watch to his universe, ready to make an escape from your dad at any point. “If you just let me explain—”

“I’m a threat to the multiverse?” you choke out through your tears, “What the fuck does that mean, papá?! If I can even call you that.” Miguel’s jaw clenches. “Don’t forget who raised you.”

“How could I?! How could you?! Is this why you never let me do anything?! Too worried your querido bebecito would destroy the fucking multiverse?!”

“(Y/n). I did it to protect everyone.”

“What about me?! Did you ever plan on telling me?! How is separating me from my family protecting me?!” Hobie places an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer and keeping you shielded by him as Miguel tries to step closer to you. Miguel glares at him, and Hobie glares back. Miguel holds out his hand in a surrendering way. “It was to protect you just as much, if not more, as it was to protect everyone else. If you would just listen—“

“No. No, I’m done listening to you.”

“Cariño—”

“I am not tú cariño. I am not tú corazoón. You are not mi papá,” you say, venom behind your words. You can practically see Miguel’s heart shatter into tiny little pieces.

That was the worst thing you could have ever said to him.

Before he can say anything else, Hobie opens the portal, pulling you through and closing it almost immediately. You find yourself in the familiar atmosphere of his flat. “C’mere, love,” he mumbles, pulling you into his arms. You grip his shirt, sobbing into his chest as he rocks you back and forth, softly shushing you occasionally and rubbing your back. After what feels like hours, but was really maybe a minute, he swiftly picks you up, carrying you bridal style to his bed as you continue to cry into his shirt. He sits down, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head and rubbing up and down your arm. He can’t help but feel guilty for this. If he didn’t convince you to look at the computer…

“Don’t blame yourself, Hobie… please,” you whimper, and he sighs. “Love, you needa stop bein’ so good at knowin’ what i’m thinkin’,” he mumbles, and you look up at him with a soft smile. “Can’t help it. Even your thoughts are loud,” you say, and he snorts. “Chuffed to see the cryin’ made ya feel better,” he says and you shake your head. “I still feel like shit, Hobie,” you whisper, and he frowns. He gently wipes some tears away from your cheeks. “Reckon all ‘at cryin’ has you knackered?” he mumbles, and you nod softly. He lays backwards, maneuvering the two of you to be laying down. The two of you face each other, one of his hands cradling the side of your face while the other soothingly rubs up and down your side. You grip onto his shirt, and he places a soft peck on your nose. “‘m sorry, love,” he says, and you sniffle. “I already told you it isn’t your fault.”

“‘Kay, still feel like it was,” he says, and you sigh. “That’s not important right now,” he mumbles, gently pulling you closer. “What’s important is that I make you feel better.” You look at him, your eyes are still glossy from tears. “Never met someone who looked so stunnin’ when they cry,” he says, gently stroking your cheek. You smile softly, and he does too. “There’s my favorite smile,” he whispers before softly placing his lips on yours. It’s only for a second, but it makes all the pain go away. And you’re grateful for that. Even if it is just for a second. “Get some sleep, love.” He kisses your forehead, tangling his legs with yours and pulling your head into his chest. You relax into him. He was right. The crying was exhausting. Before you know it, you’re asleep as Hobie gently traces shapes into your skin, whispering anything and everything he loves about you to you so softly that if you weren’t really listening, you wouldn’t hear any of it. No one makes you feel protected quite like Hobie does.

And even if it’s just for a moment, thanks to Hobie, you feel like everything will be okay.

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[thefreakandthehair]

happy (belated, sorry!) birthday to @henderdads!! this was supposed to be just fluffy but y'know. the hurt/comfort monster got me. I hope you had a perfect day! <333

can also be found here on AO3!

stars and satellites (will always bring me home)

---

Eddie tries not to think about his birthday. 

He and Wayne have an agreement to let it pass with little to no mention, save for his 16th birthday when he’s able to start driving and his 18th birthday when he hands Eddie a few singles and tells him to go grab himself his first legal pack of cigarettes— and to get one for him, too, since he’ll be at the store anyways. 

It works for Eddie and he goes as far as to hide his birthday from his friends for as long as he possibly can. Gareth, Jeff, and Frank still have no idea. The new found family he’s been adopted into since averting the (apparently third or fourth) Apocalypse don’t know, despite being asked by just about everyone at least once. It’s a fine-tuned skill, evading the question and changing the subject. 

“Hey Eddie, when’s your birthday? Did we miss it already this year?” Dustin asks at Will’s own birthday party. 

Eddie smirks. “Roll for insight, Young Henderson.” 

“Alright, got a die?” 

“Nope, darn!” Eddie pretends to pat the pockets of his jeans before shrugging and walking away. 

Nancy is the hardest to fend off but unless she finds his birth information through the microfiche at the library, he’s stalwart in his stance. She might, though, and that’s his only real concern. But by and large, his friends let it go, chalking it up to one of Eddie’s many quirks and occasionally joking about it when someone else’s birthday rolls around. The one person who won’t put it down though? 

Steve Harrington. 

Steve I Throw Parties For Everyone Harrington. Steve I’m Going To Annoy You About This At Least Once A Week Harrington. Steve Is It Today? Is It Tomorrow? You Seem Like A Winter Baby? Harrington.

And truthfully, Eddie can’t find it within himself to be genuinely mad at him about it, despite having snapped at everyone else who’s dared to ask more than once. Eddie grants Steve a pass for reasons he’s not quite ready to evaluate just yet, reasons he knows he’ll never tell, reasons that would require the same security clearance that knowing his birthday would because knowing his birthday would mean knowing this past. He’s not sure yet if he wants everyone— or anyone— to know about his dear old dad. 

In true The Universe Must Be Sentient And Actively Hate Me fashion, Steve happens to ask him again on his actual birthday. Steve’s backyard is glowing in the bluish tint of the full moon, stars twinkling in and out behind rogue clouds and smoke billowing from the joint they pass between them up towards the sky. It’s cold— early February in Hawkins is no joke— but Steve and Eddie have discovered an affinity for the cold breeze against their skin, finding it grounding and centering in its own way. 

“So, when’s your birthday? Is it getting close?” It’s a question Eddie’s heard no less than twenty times in the same cheeky intonation, Steve having learned not to expect anything besides an out of pocket response. What he doesn’t expect is silence. Steve never expects silence from Eddie. 

He turns to look at Eddie and sees him sitting in the same patio chair he’s been in all night, right next to him— too close, but not close enough at the same time. One leg is drawn up beneath one thigh and Eddie looks up at the sky, pointedly avoiding eye contact. If the moment didn’t feel as heavy as it does, Steve would find himself staring at the muscles of his neck and the way his throat bobs when he swallows. It is heavy though, and Steve can only focus on the weight of the space between them. 

“Hey, you good? You know I’m just fucking with you, right?” Steve asks, passing the joint back to him as an excuse to pull his attention back from the sky above them. Of all of the things Steve’s imagined having to fight for attention from, the moon was certainly not one of them but he supposes that tracks for Eddie. Nothing about Eddie is according to plan. 

Eddie takes the joint and carefully avoids Steve’s eyes, keeping his glance at his hands before returning to the stars and taking a deep inhale. Another few hits will make this all go away, he thinks to himself. The day had been difficult— memories he’d rather not have creeping up and wrapping themselves around his limbs like living vines.

Steve watches little bits of smoke curl out on his exhale and he shifts uncomfortably in his chair. 

“Ed, seriously, I’ll stop asking. I’m just teasing, I’ll quit it, just stop with the silence, dude. It’s… weird.” 

“Why?” Eddie asks, quietly. It’s just a single word but he’ll take it. 

“Why is it weird?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Because you’re not quiet. You don’t do silence unless something’s wrong.” 

“Maybe something is.” 

Steve sits for a second, his brain running in circles around itself. You fucked it up, c’mon, you kept asking, you knew better, why’d you have to keep prying, now you made him uncomfortable like you swore not to do—

“I can smell your brain overheating from here, Steve. Relax. It’s not you, I promise.” Eddie chuckles humorlessly under his breath and he makes a spontaneous decision, an impulsive decision he might regret but there's a little part of him that finds it hard to believe he'll ever regret sharing something with Steve.

“Then what is it? What’s wrong? Is it, y’know, End of the World- related or…?” Steve’s voice trails off. Part of the reason they’ve come to have these nights smoking in the cold, alone together, is that exactly: End of the World- related invisible scars. But Eddie just shakes his head no and sighs, placing the joint down on the glass patio table. 

“It’s today.” 

“Huh?”

Eddie turns to face him and raises both eyebrows. “It’s. Today. My birthday. It’s today.” 

“Wait— shit, really? And you’re telling me?” Steve’s heart pounds in his chest, not blind to the gravity of Eddie telling him his closest kept secret. 

Eddie shrugs and smiles without it touching his eyes. “Guess so. Take it to your grave, please?” 

“Well yeah, man, I don’t make a habit of going around and telling people’s secrets. But… thanks? For trusting me?” Steve reaches the few inches to Eddie’s shoulder and lets his hand rest there. It's contact but it's not enough. It’s never really enough, but it has to be. He has no reason to think Eddie feels the same way about him and he’ll be damned if he loses his best friend— second only to Robin, but that’s besides the point. The point is, he rests his hand on Eddie’s shoulder and lets his fingers move in slow repetitive circles into the fabric of Eddie’s jacket. 

“You’re welcome. It’s just— I have some… not so great memories attached to my birthday so I don’t celebrate it. Rather it just not exist, to be honest.” 

“Well, since it’s a big secret, you could just make it another day, y’know. We’ll all respect it and you can, like, create new memories and start over.”

Eddie glances down at Steve’s hand wandering, absentmindedly trailing his fingers along the base of his neck and to collarbone. Fuck his birthday, and fuck the horrible memories Clyde Munson had poured into it. The way his heart tumbles from his chest into his mouth negates all of it. 

“Really? Any suggestions?” He breathes, relieved that Steve doesn’t pry. He’s learned enough about Steve’s own childhood though to imagine why he doesn’t. For all of their outward differences, Steve gets it. Gets him. 

Steve watches Eddie’s eyes widen before they glance down at his hand and back up, filled with something that looks dangerously like hope. Steve, in turn, feels something dangerously like hope. 

“Maybe the day you woke up? In the hospital? I don’t know, I can see you liking the whole phoenix thing. Rebirth into something beautiful or whatever.” 

Eddie’s breath catches. Beautiful feels like an overinflated balloon floating precariously through the woods in Steve’s backyard— cheerful and buoyant, but always at the risk of catching on too sharp of a branch and tumbling back down to the hard ground. 

“Beautiful, huh?” 

“Yeah. It fits you.” Steve’s hand wanders again, this time intentionally, to brush a piece of Eddie’s hair behind his ear and cupping the side of his face. 

“Steve…” He whispers as they move slowly— achingly slowly— together, as though attached by an invisible thread. And maybe they are— the little red string of fate that’s been pulling them closer and closer since the day they met. Close enough now, finally, for Eddie to know how Steve’s lips feel against his, how his hands feel in his hair, how his heart beats in his chest when Eddie presses one hand there to tether himself to reality with nothing. No one but his stars watch him find his way back home, to Steve, where he should've been all along.

Eddie’s new birthday becomes April 2nd, the day he’d woken up from the induced coma. Eddie and Steve’s anniversary becomes February 9th, his old birthday. He can’t imagine a better way to create beauty out of ashes.

[boiohboii]

Comfort drabble (Charles Leclerc x university student! Reader)

N.B: this is a self indulging, short fic based on the news I had received today. WARNING: failing classes, crying, sobbing and not that well written fic. Charles could be a bit out of character i think? Not proof read.... it's just a hurt-comfort fic for my own sake tbh cause I just got my grades and I failed so yeah.... hope you like it

Entering his girlfriend's apartment, Charles called her name softly, hoping for a reply. Upon the silence he walked further into her home, reaching for her bedroom door.

Now he was aware that sometimes she just wants time to herself, he's aware that there comes moments where someone just doesn't have the energy to reply to someone. But this morning he felt knots in his stomach upon seeing no reply from her on his texts from the night before and when he called and received her voice mail he decided to go to hers.

The sight before him broke his heart, tear stained cheeks and puffy eyes were enough for someone to guess what y/n had been doing before falling asleep, but the trash can beside her bed on the floor and the box of tissues in her hold only confirmed that something is majorly wrong.

"Love."

With a low voice and soft tone, Charles slowly climed onto the bed beside her, moving her slowly till she was safely in his arms. With no response, he decided to investigate what was wrong.

Unlocking her phone Charles was met with her university's email inbox, scrolling down he finally saw what the issue was.

"Charles?" Her voice sounded hoarse and dry

"Hey love," locking her phone and tightening his hold on her "it's okay."

And with those four gentle words, Y/N felt her eyes burn with tears that quickly escaped onto her cheeks with sobs coming out of her tired throat.

"No, no," a tender hand in her hair "you're alright darling, you're alright."

"I'm sorry" her whimpers filled the room as she curled into herself

"It's okay my angle," soft lips on her forehead as the rough material of a tissue wipped her tears "take as much time as you want, I'm here"

An hour later, Y/N's cries had finally dies down to soft sobs and an occasional sniff with Charles' fingers massaging her scalp while the other hand holds her tightly to his chest.

"I know that words won't help and they won't make you feel any better, but I know how hard you have studied throughout the year, I saw you writing notes and listening over and over again to your lectures, I saw how you always explain things to your friends and you always send your notes to everyone," he whispered into her ear, kissing the crown on her head "failing 2 classes isn't the end of the world, it won't make you any less of a great person. I am not trying to make light of the situation or dismiss your feelings, but as a person who cares about you I am thanking the stars that you are alright, that you are safe and sound in my arms. And just as you had passes your other 8 classes this year, you will retake your finals and pass them as well. I know you will, cause you are you and no grade is going to define you.

I know it won't be easy to study everything again in the span of 2 months, but you can do it, I believe that you can cause I have seen what you constantly do everyday and someone who does half of what you do is always willing to try again and again," burying his face into her neck, his lips left a trail of butterfly kisses over her shoulder grounding her like a weighted blanked "I am so proud of you my darling, I always will be."

A warm hug, a kiss on the back of her hand and fingers running smoothly through her hair, YN felt safe and content surrounded by the warmth of her boyfriend. Maybe she had failed 2 of her 10 classes this year but she still had a second chance and she won't waste it.

[irisbleufic]

YOUR 3 CATS ARE SO CUTE OMG! How old are they/what are their stories?

Like many young-ish queer married couples, @one-eyed-bossman and I entered the fast track to pet parenthood in 2020. I was still recovering from extensive cancer treatment at the time, which is part of what makes our first kitty especially meaningful to me.

ZEL

Zel is my darling girl. She’s now 5 years old, and when we adopted her in June of 2020, she was already 1 year old. After being rescued on the streets at a few weeks old with her two personable siblings, she spent an entire year at this lady’s house with like 20 other cats at any given time. She was feral and unapproachable, but somehow I was able to get close enough to her at the rescue to pick her up and put her in the carrier. She nailed me with her claws in the process, but that’s the only time she’s ever hurt me or anyone else. The day after we got her home, I stuck my hand behind the bed in her safe room, and she set her little paw square in my palm and left it there for about a minute. I spent a couple of months crawling halfway under the bed to pet her while she was curled in her bed, and eventually I could get her to follow me around the house by asking, “Do you want to go for a walk?” She barely left my side after that. I spent a lot of 2020 sick in bed; she always curled up snugly between my ankles or my knees. She’s now the smartest cat I’ve ever met. Her language recognition shocks me even after 4 years of having her as a silly little shadow who likes to play fetch with her pink-eared mouse toy. She’s stuck to my side any time I’m on the sofa, and about a month ago she climbed fully in my lap for the first time. Her meow is barely a whisper when she does use it (only to talk to me and occasionally to the TV), but the trills, squeaks, and yowls she makes to talk to her toys are hilarious. She doesn’t even talk to her siblings like that. Unlike many white cats, she is not deaf.

NICKY

We got Nicky a year after we got Zel; he was about 8 weeks old when we brought him home in June of 2021. We met a kind lady who periodically bred her lovely Bengal queens, and Nicky was somehow a “non-show-quality” (?!!) discount kitten. He’s sweet, goofy, vocal, afraid of everything/everyone that’s outside the house, and occasionally very naughty. We hoped he would bring Zel the rest of the way out of her shell, and it worked. He just adored her from day one. She took a few months to warm up to him, but they bonded pretty fast. Now, at 3 years old, he’s a big boy—17 pounds. He likes to stand/sit on laps more than he likes to lie down in them, although he will lie down in mine a couple times a week. He brings me granola bars from the cupboard and loves trash more than he likes his toys:

EMBER

We hadn’t planned on a third cat, but the universe insisted. I mean that quite literally. On 31 July 2022, my mother died at my sister’s place a couple of states away. The morning she died, me and my four siblings took a walk around my sister’s neighborhood. We split up and went slightly different ways; my sister and her husband called me as I was getting back to the house to say that a tiny, tiny crying kitten had run out of the bushes toward them. My sister didn’t know what to do; one of my nieces is very allergic, and we were all burnt-out from dealing with Mom’s passing and the funeral home taking away her body. I told her to bring the kitten back to the house, because I was too grief-stricken to let another thing die that day. Out on the porch, I fed her milk from one of the droppers we were using to give my mom morphine, all the while making desperate phone calls to local rescues. After about 3 hours, a local vet with specialty in caring for bottle baby kittens came to pick her up. She told me that, because I didn’t live too far away in the grand scheme of things, she could foster the baby until she was old enough for me to arrange transport to my home state. There was no way I could walk away from that little baby, so I got regular photos, videos, and updates from her foster mom until I could arrange transport about 5 months later (she came home in December of 2022). She has grown up to be the feistiest tortie I’ve ever met. She has far longer hair than I ever could have guessed, and even now that she’s 1.5 years old, she has very short legs (longer end of munchkin, our vet says!) and an overall smaller stature than her siblings. She fucking adores Nicky, and he has never once played too rough for her given the size disparity. He lets her chase him, jump on him, bap him into play fights, etc. She will cry and cry at night if we don’t pick her up and carry her around before we close the bedroom doors (they get to sleep in the bedroom sometimes, but not always; Nicky likes to knock picture frames off the wall in there, and I’m not about exposing them to broken glass).

[rvspecter]

About the "would you actually date Harvey Specter" post:

The core question is does Donna exist in this universe where this is possible. Bc if she exists I'm cooked and I wouldn't go near that situation.

But if not,

So here's the thing. Does he want to be dating me. Bc the Scottie thing earned him worst bf of the year, but also clearly bc he wasn't invested in it at all.

The comment about his anger issues feels valid but also he is so unseriously angry most of the time, like he'd be a brat and throw a fit and then I'd be like "stop being a bitch" and he'd be fine again idk. His emotional intelligence is in the negatives, which is bad, but he is able to occasionally talk about feelings which gives me hope. He's a workaholic but that wouldn't be an issue for me personally bc I am the kind of person that's better off having my own life and then savoring the time I do get with my partner, y'know?? I joke all the time that I need to date a med student who pulls like 16 hr days who i never really see but I cuddle with when they come home at night lmao.

Also even tho his emotional state is a huge red flag for most of the series (except when he finally gets with Donna heyo), I have a history of being down bad for emotionally unavailable tall men who literally don't know shit about engaging in a romantic relationship so I'm like yeah exactly I could do this lmao. I'd also be convinced I could fix him, personal red flag. Alsjskdjdj I just think this is such funny discourse

omg dying DYING ACTUALLY DYING AHSHAHAHHAHA idk if donna exists in this harvey specter x reader universe we haven't thought past tearing his clothes off but i love how ur going thru all the points I LOVE IT!!

YESSS HE WAS A TERRIBLE BF TO SCOTTIE but also... she kind of pushed him into it because he just wanted her to be around???

re: his anger issues r actually so funny because he gets his feelings hurt ALL THE TIME. but i think ur right in that he calms down quickly?? like remember that scene where he was CRAZY screaming at louis (because mike just screamed at him for interfering with his life) in s6 and donna sees it and she goes HARVEY ENOUGH and he tucks his tail away and retreats (but never apologizes to louis cries)

also rigghhhtttt his emotional intelligence is a problem but he gives enough signs of life that i'd think 'yeah we can work with this I CAN FIX HIMMMMMM'✌🏻✌🏻✌🏻

[thepixelelf]

Oh Baby, You Part 23 - All it Takes is a Smile

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It's not a new thing he's learned today— that Wonwoo hates being home alone.

Still, it settles in again as he ambles aimlessly around the apartment. A half-empty coffee cup sits in his hand, long gone cold by now. Although it's a Saturday, Junhui is at the lab, and Minghao is in his studio, working on a new, large scale piece.

Wonwoo sighs as he submits another letter of intent. His intent is to get his sorry ass out of this slump he's in, but that's not what any potential employers need to know.

He hears the crying before someone knocks frantically at the door.

On any other day like this one, Wonwoo might let his shoulders slump, slowly rise from his worn down gaming chair, and go grab the food he ordered online — after assuring the delivery person has already left so he doesn’t have to interact with any humans who might find him pitiful. But he hasn’t ordered anything today, and the crying…

That little boy?

Wonwoo finds himself up on his feet and opening the front door before he really understands what’s going on.

Your son, face scrunched up and one hand curled in a fist in front of his eyes, sobs at the volume of a small jet engine. His other hand is attached to a larger one, and Wonwoo’s eyes follow the joined arms up to the face of a man he vaguely recognizes. He’s not you — that’s what Wonwoo’s brain registers first, as unhelpful as that is.

Next, he sees the cloth clutched in the man’s other hand, and how it’s slowly soaking through with red.

“Hey,” the guy says breathlessly, a smile on his face for reasons Wonwoo can’t possibly comprehend. “Thank god you were in there— I think I need stitches.” He raises his hand with the cloth. The boy is still crying. “Can you drive? And watch the little guy?”

Wonwoo doesn’t think. He just nods.

There’s a booster seat in the guy’s — Chan, he introduced himself as — car, which is an automatic, to Wonwoo’s temporary relief. He doesn’t know what he’d do if he couldn’t drive to the hospital. The bloody cloth in Chan’s hand is starting to freak him out. Not more than how relaxed Chan seems in the backseat, though.

He’s spent most of the ride just calming the crying boy down, who doesn’t seem to be hurt himself, just worried for this Chan character.

“Who… are you?” Wonwoo asks, then corrects himself. “I mean, how do you know— I mean, are you their…?”

Don’t say boyfriend. God, please don’t say boyfriend.

Chan’s eyes meet Wonwoo’s in the rear view mirror while he internally chides himself for still caring,

“I’m their friend,” he says. “Are you?”

The question stumps Wonwoo.

Is he your friend? He doesn’t think so. Not now, surely.

Why does Chan want to know? He must have seen Wonwoo’s great escape from the boy’s birthday party. How much have you told him about your shared past?

Why is Chan looking at Wonwoo so intently?

“I used to be,” is the answer he settles on. It sounds about right, as much as it hurts to say.

Chan tilts his head. “What happened?”

Frowning, Wonwoo glances at your son, who’s currently distracted by a squishy foam ball. Still, is this guy really asking that question in front of your kid?

“I moved.”

“Why?”

“I got into a university program in Mongolia.”

Chan hums, nodding. “So you left.”

“You don’t—” Wonwoo bites back a growl, breathes out, and speaks through gritted teeth. “You don’t know me.”

The last few minutes of the drive are silent, save for the child’s occasional babbling.

When they get to the hospital, the boy tries to follow Chan into the examination room, but Chan practically drops him on Wonwoo’s lap. “Stay with Uncle Wonwoo, okay Orion? The doctor is going to fix me right up and I’ll be back suuuuper soon.”

Uncle Wonwoo.

He knows Chan must’ve said that to placate the child, but Wonwoo wonders if Chan knows how those two words twist something deep in his gut.

If he had stayed, all those short years ago, would he be something else to this boy?

A dad?

Wonwoo wraps his arms securely around Orion, who’s starting to sniffle again at the sight of Chan walking away. He bounces his leg. Babies like that, right? It’s not just his nerves.

Once Chan finally disappears around a corner, Orion twists and looks up at Wonwoo, studying his face for the first time.

“Ah,” he says. “Bad guy.”

Wonwoo blinks down at the boy. “Bad… guy?” He points at himself. “Me?”

Orion nods, the movement exaggerated and slow. “You. Mama cry.”

The words take a moment to reach Wonwoo’s brain. Mostly because he can’t believe them. You’re the one who…

“I’m sorry,” Wonwoo says anyway. It’s not on the child to deal with your and Wonwoo’s adult problems. Better that he doesn’t know. Better that he never see Wonwoo again, in all honesty. He doesn’t need to know what his parent did to hurt Wonwoo. That he is a product of that hurt.

Orion climbs up and plants his tiny feet on Wonwoo’s legs, then puts one hand on Wonwoo’s shoulder and the other on his head. Softly, he pats Wonwoo’s hair. “Don’t cry,” he says, and only then does Wonwoo realise he must’ve been letting his emotions shine through. Orion balances on Wonwoo’s lap, both hands moving to stretch wide at his sides, like he’s the sun itself. He beams. “We happy!”

Something warms in Wonwoo at the young boy's kindness towards a "bad guy", but then Orion begins to lean backward.

Instinctively, Wonwoo scrambles to wrap both arms around the boy again, lest he fall. In that moment, he sees it.

Your eyes.

But, not your smile.

It’s familiar, but not yours.

No.

Mingyu’s.

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oby tagging 1, 50/50: @shiningstar-byulxx @shuabby-woowoo @90s-belladonna @xavi-in-kpopland @kachren @xmessaroundx @chwevernonlover @kwanisms @dalamjisung @1ntaktak @imhereforfunstuff @crazywittysassy @butterfliesinthenightsky @ddaengpotate @dorrysstuff @ckline35 @vanishingboots @potatofrieswithketchup @minhwa @oncecaratorbit @sugacookees @royal9 @doodlelibrary @myjaeyunn @yksthings @jundundun @amosmortese @jaeskz @seungmintree @woozarts @my-chaos-in-stars @yoonychoik @ksywoo @kellesvt @candidupped @sharkipoonis @wooahaeproductions @capsiclesworld @hellodefthings @sunshineshouchan @calumsfringe @caratinluv @pinkysinnerbaby @winterwallacehenderson @jvhoons @woo8hao @sxftiell @wondering-out-loud

[shippingmyworld]

Hi there!

I read that one and really liked your headcanon about Danny and his relationships with his exs and wondered if you had any for JimmyTimmy? I know you're more a tigerghost blog so it's okay if you don't!

It's so funny that I have that reputation since I've only been active in the fandom for like a few months.

But actually I do have a few! I was playing with the idea of expanding this into an actual fic at some point, but if you're curious I included the main points below the cut.

I like to hc that Jimmy's never actually been in a relationship or even kissed anyone before. I know his implied love interest in canon is Cindy (I don't recall if they actually get together in canon or if there was anyone else he showed interest in), but I always saw them more as rivals that end up begrudgingly becoming friends over the years. I also believe that Jimmy would know he's demi-sexual and homo-romantic from a very early age. It just never comes up in conversation because he simply shuts down any conversation about romance by saying he doesn't find the person his friends are talking about attractive (Cindy starts a betting pool with the others because she's picked up on the fact that Jimmy is basically gay but everyone else thinks he's ace).

While Jimmy's love life is rather drama-free for most of his adolescence and early teen years, Timmy on the other hand experiences the equivalent of seven different disney channel tween rom-com movies. He's caught up in the fantasy he's created of Trixie, and his affection will bounce between her and Cindy depending on which girl has shown more attention in the last few days. He'll often annoy Jimmy with his elaborate plans on how he intends to ask one of them out. Occasionally he'll also spend an entire afternoon on an inter-dimensional video call about how annoying Tootie has been lately and what her latest scheme had been to win Timmy's affection.

Jimmy meanwhile has realized he has feeling for Timmy, but locks them away because he believes Timmy is straight. He's honestly just content that Timmy reaches out to him as often as he does and that they're able to still spend time together. He also never points out that what Tootie is doing to Timmy is the exact same thing that Timmy is doing to Trixie and Cindy.

Right before they enter high school, Timmy will read the signals wrong and ask Cindy to go steady with him, but Cindy will politely turn him down and say she'd rather they just be friends. Completely crushed, he'll double down in his attempt to woo Trixie and pull out all the stops, putting on this extremely cringey and embarrassing performance to ask her to be his girlfriend (he got the idea from Cosmo). She'll just straight up laughs in his face and will stomp on his heart, leaving him to be the laughing stock of the school. When Tootie comes and tries to comfort him, Timmy will snap and yell at her, saying all sorts of hurtful things to her face and making her cry.

High school starts, and Timmy finds himself a complete social outcast. No one want to be associated with him after the stunt he pulled to ask out Trixie (even Chester and AJ don't want to spend time with him). Timmy then starts spending more time in Jimmy's universe, annoying Jimmy by randomly showing up inside his lab. Jimmy's annoyed at first, but realizes that Timmy's just lonely and lets him stick around. Timmy eventually makes himself at home (he sets up base in a small corner of the lab that is basically his area that Jimmy doesn't interfere with), and will say something to Jimmy along the lines of "I'm really glad you're apart of my life." Which just kills Jimmy a little bit because he knows that Timmy means it platonically.

After a few months of teen melodrama and some advice from Jimmy, Timmy will approach Tootie with the intent of apologizing to her. He finds her is eating alone in the lunch room at school and just spits out the apology point blank. It will take some time, but the two will reconcile and become friendly with each other, but Tootie will still harbor feelings for Timmy.

Meanwhile, for plot reasons, Remy will transfer to Timmy's school. Timmy expects that Remy is going to make his life hell, but a few weeks pass and Remy seems to actually be avoiding Timmy. It's messing with Timmy's head. He can't have his guard up the entire time at school, Remy was always more of a threat than Mr. Crocker ever was. So during one of the school's pep rally's, Timmy will pull Remy under the bleachers and confront him. Remy promises that he's done with trying to expose Cosmo and Wanda, and Timmy wants to know how he can trust Remy's words. Remy will then kiss him, confusing the hell out of Timmy. He says he has feeling for Timmy, and would never do anything that would hurt Timmy and ruin his chances. Timmy is hung up on the fact that they're both guys and Remy just kissed him??? So he says nothing and just walks away.

The next day he'll be sitting with Chester & AJ in class and tells them about it (they never apologized for ditching Timmy at the start of high school but he doesn't really have any other friends and they're forced to talk with him since they all sit next to each other). AJ asks if Timmy knows what homosexuality and bisexuality is, and Timmy has honestly never heard of those terms before. After all, his parents never let him watch TV or give him money to go out, and still force him to have a babysitter at his age. When AJ explains it all (he has graphs and examples of non-heterosexual relationships observed in other mammals) something just clicks for Timmy. When school is done with, he runs home (ignoring Remy and Tootie who are both planning to confess their feeling again) and poofs over to Jimmy's lab.

Jimmy's surprised to see him. But he's even more surprised when Timmy just grabs him by both shoulders and pulls him in for a kiss without another word. Jimmy's brain literally crashes (he wonders if he's having a stroke or some sort of stress-dream), and when Timmy pulls aways he's a blushing mess. Timmy will apologize and start rambling on about how he just found out that this was a possibility and that it makes sense. He always feels comfortable around Jimmy and once he realized two guys could be together, kissing Jimmy was the first thing that popped into his head. Timmy keeps talking for several minutes as Jimmy attempts to process everything, but Timmy will end up taking Jimmy's silence as a bad sign and try to leave. Jimmy's forced to grab Timmy's hand to make him stay and they then just sit in silence for several hours as Jimmy rearranges his thoughts (Timmy will eventually fall asleep on him as they just sit on the floor of the lab).

After that they start dating. Tootie and Remy have no idea until Jimmy shows up one day to pick up Timmy from school for a hang-out/date. Timmy is casually chatting with Tootie and Remy (as both of them continue to interrupt each others attempts to ask Timmy on a date), when Timmy suddenly breaks away from them and charges at a boy they'd never seen before (Jimmy) who just showed up at the school gate. Timmy tackle's Jimmy at top speed, nearly barreling him over as they hug and plants a big kiss on Jimmy's cheek. He waves goodbye to Tootie and Remy, who are just watching slack-jawed as Timmy walks away hand-in-hand with Jimmy. Tootie and Remy then form an alliance to take down Jimmy so they can go back to fighting for Timmy's affection.

[stargirlstudio]

College BF!Aemond Targaryen Headcanons

☆ Aemond Targaryen x Reader

☆ Nonspecified gender and no physical attributes mentioned

☆ This of course takes place at King’s Landing University (tagged as King’s Landing Uni-verse on my tumblr). For more works in this modern uni au click on the tag!

You and Aemond met during your freshman year and didn't start dating until sophomore year

You both went on your official date after the winter break and found out you will be in one spring semester class

Aemond will try to meet up with you on days where you’re both free. However, with your extracurriculars and his time with the university’s fencing team -- it can be hard

On days he can't take you out to lunch or go to a cafe, he does send you money through a transfer app, with a cute message or just the words “please eat”

If your club needs extra hands, he's more than happy to help you, whether that would be holding stuff in his car or helping carry needed supplies

Isn’t too into “school spirit” so he doesn't care if you steal his hoodies or beanies with the KLU logo on it

Took him a while to introduce him to his other siblings properly

You of course, met Helaena at the club fair, but you formally met Helaena when she invited both of you to an museum event sponsored by her club

You met Aegon at a frat party your freshman year and when he asked you what song you were listening to for a tiktok vid, but formally met him when Aemond treated you all to lunch

Aemond doesn't use emojis often and his texting style can be quite “dry” but he makes more of an effort to type more words

You raised an eyebrow when he used ❤️ for the first time

Aemond doesn't dorm and shares a very very large apartment complex with his siblings

Hightower 1 is a cushy luxury apartment owned by his maternal grandpa

Speaking of his other family members, if your relationship is getting serious his mother Alicent is insistent on meeting you so she books a nice dinner to meet you all

You find out she works in literary archives and you both spent the evening geeking over different texts which Aemond finds endearing

Aemond isn't one for PDA but he does kiss you on the forehead and hold your hand when you walk

AT HOME...completely different story. He already lets you crash at his place but the post lecture cuddles are something different

He'll have his arm draped over your waist with his lights dim, save for the lights over his reptile tanks

If it's another long night, he’ll whisper “I love you’s” and other things he admires about you

Most of the time his compliments have to do with your intelligence and he takes pride in being with someone as successful as you

But he does tell you how pretty you are. Everyone likes hearing that he does too you know

He's low key not good at taking pics of people. When you asked him to take a pic of you in front of something he stood like 🧍

He eventually learned but he sometimes to forget to bend his knees to get the good angles

However the pics you take of him? Godly

He's so camera shy and you respect that but occasionally he’ll blush when you tell him how handsome he is

“How are you not a model yet,” You said as you snapped his photo

Actually he's been scouted a couple of times when you were both were out but he brushed them off

“I don't know them. They could be scamming me,”

Aemond is...very offline. He doesn't get any current trends, memes, or other internet jokes.

The only social media he has is a LinkedIn, Goodreads, and Letterboxd - that's it

He only starting exploring more sites or social media when you would send a link to something

When he made an Instagram you weren't even his first follower, somehow it was Aegon

For the new socials he makes, he only uses it to like and comment on your post and his families. He also has a max 20-30 followers and follows 8 people

Aemond has made it a competition to be the first person to like and comment on your posts

Aemond is very reserved around people he doesn't know but he's observant

Every gift you received from Aemond was put forth with every thought and detail he remembers about you

Your favorite colors, flowers, what clothing item you have wanted, something he saw on your online wishlist. Or even something you had off handedly mentioned -- he will get it

One time you had wanted to get a special edition book set and he got it for you (and it was signed by the author)

He secretly loves the idea of coordinating outfits (although he wears dark colors, mostly all black). If you had on an accessory or an article of clothing that matched him, he would melt

He likes anime/manga but he's pretentious and likes the 90s-early 2000s ones. He thinks the current ones are repetitive

For your first Halloween, you did your own version of Howl and Sophie from Howl’s Moving Castle

Everyone established Aemond as being a jealous and possessive lover fair tbh

But I don't think he's confrontational nor is the type to yell at you if he felt jealous

He’ll snake a hand around your waist for his sake but he trusts you and isn't particular threatened by anyone

He holds his own intelligence and being in high regard trust fund baby shit

If anything, he kind of enjoys it because he knows no one else would interest you. He knows you well enough to know that you don't even care

When uni work is getting tough, he loves to hold you. Unwind with you. Or take you out. He'll order your favorite takeout if you both don't feel like cooking, he’ll put on a movie, one time you took a shower together and he felt like he was in heaven when you shampooed his hair

Sometimes, he is afraid that you’ll both grow apart after uni. Especially if both of your plans are vastly different -- which is why his kisses and his grip feel just a bit more desperate as senior year approaches

☆ A/N: If you enjoyed this and want to be tagged in Modern Uni AU! works including headcanons or my fic Academic (Dis)Honor, feel free to comment saying you want to be added to the tag list!

Comments and reblogs are supported and encouraged! I love to see that you guys are enjoying the work. If you have any suggestions for what you want to see (or even nsfw modern uni headcanons) let me know!

[r0-boat]

perhaps some professor sycamore headcanons👀?

The Pokémon bug is biting me.

Probably because of my addiction too Pokerogue

Professor Sycamore headcanons

Sfw cut for length

Wow someone who is mentally stable and all around a really mentally healthy and physically healthy person? Well sort of... You see, Augustine Sycamore has a bad case of 'I can fix them.' a lovely charming and sweet man who has never been married because his track record of dating questionable borderline dangerous people and still somehow being the most wholesome person in the universe. He always has crazy ex stories to share and despite everything he rarely ever blames or resents them. It takes a lot for Sycamore to hate a person.

Professor Sycamore is a cheery person who looks on the bright side of everything and everyone around him except for himself despite his good sense of style, his handsome face, and his beautiful attitude, Sycamore is on the humble side, sometimes thinking rather poorly of himself. Any words of affirmation of any kind will make him melt into a shy mess, stumbling over his words as he tries to brush off the compliments.

He's a man that wears his heart on his sleeve He's proud of who he is and he will tell you everything about him rarely does he ever have secrets then when he does he's not very good at keeping them secret, his darting eyes and sweating face and clammy hands will give him away instantly. His carefree and cheerful attitude make him extremely popular with women. But he is extremely oblivious to how great he actually is.

He is a lover that is second to none he'll make you feel like the most important being in his life because you are. You are the apple of his eye and has a sketchbook where he sketches His Pokémon and takes notes However there are an embarrassingly amount of pages where he just sketches you, sometimes naked sometimes in imaginary clothing various poses, sometimes holding Pokémon, Sometimes holding miscellaneous objects. Anything.(He's a very good artist too) All of his drawings of you in his lab notes are wholesome He has another sketchbook of the more sultry drawings of you.

His favorite thing about you is your smile, and he wishes you could always smile. He craves when your lips curve upward, and he'll do anything to make you smile. His heart will stink if Your eyes will up with tears. His voice will get low, and he will gently murmur in a mix of French and English as he tries desperately to make you feel better, wiping the tears away with his thumbs, pepper in your face with kisses.

Another one of his bad habits is clinginess. Sycamore will go anywhere with you, but that's not what you think. Yes, he does love to give you physical affection like hugs or kisses, but most of the time, he's in the same room as you doing work on his laptop, taking notes, or just playing with a baby Pokémon in his arms. Anywhere you go, Even if it's outside in a park, he'll make it work. If not, if you have to go somewhere by yourself or he's stuck in the lab, he'll send you pictures throughout the day ranging from goofy shots of his face, random shots of his laptop or around the lab, or up close shots of Pokémon he's either working with or his own. When he finally gets home, or when you come home, he'll run up to you, hug you, kiss you, and give you cuddles until you both fall asleep.

Unsurprisingly Augustine's of language is physical touch, quality time, and occasionally gift-giving. This man is so in love with you that if he could, he would take you out on weekly dates. All his Pokémon, employees lab partners, acquaintances, and fellow professors know you.

Despite having powerful Pokémon he's not much of a Pokémon battler, He sees it as a fun activity for Pokémon to get exercise. He's very much a lover, not a fighter. Until... Someone his loved ones. Then it's like a switch snapped inside of him.

Knows how to play the guitar but hasn't done it in years and warns you that he's a bad singer before he sings a song for you. (He's voice is like an angel)

If you don't speak French then sycamore's favorite thing to do is speak to you in French because you'll never know what he's saying to you. He could say it the most sweetest nothings and filthiest things and you'll never know.

When he gets caught up in his work He will go many nights without sleeping sometimes he'll even forget meals. So please get on to him about that.

[peppymintdreams]

What If Luca Didn’t Go to the Party

This is my first ever Zsakuva Fanfic so bear with me on this 🙏🏿

masterlist

It was a late Saturday evening. Luca was lying in his dorm room, staring at the ceiling and feeling empty. He had finished all he needed to do, and all that was left was to relax. He had been invited to a party but didn’t feel like going. What would he even do at a party? It came as a shock when someone actually invited him; it must’ve been a joke to get a reaction out of him—who knows? The night was quiet, aside from the occasional ventilation turning on and off, the faint sounds of upbeat music echoing across the campus, and moans of couples haunting the hallways. Here he was, alone in his bed.

Deciding to make a stand, he put on his nice clothes and headed for the door, determined to make his presence known at the university. But when his hand touched the door, something changed. Visions of doubt, insecurities, and the years of bullying he’d endured flooded his mind. He wanted to be strong; he wanted to try something new, but the pain was just too much to handle. What was he to do—stay home and let his insecurities and doubts win, or let himself be free? It took everything in his power to keep his hand on the doorknob and turn it fully. He was almost there, the door beginning to open, his vision starting to blur. It felt like time was running out if he didn’t make a decision. In the end… he shut the door and locked it.

“Weak,” that’s all he could hear in his head. A weak person, he thought. He lay down on the sofa, turned the TV on, and watched whatever was playing, tears streaming down his face. What was he to become if he couldn’t even muster up the courage to just be a person?

His phone lit up with a notification from his mom. She was his safe place, the person he could turn to whenever something went wrong and he didn’t know the answer. He called her and waited as the line buzzed. “Hello,” she said, her voice like a cloud—so soft and welcoming.

“Mom, I—” he stuttered, tears rolling down his face.

“Hey, honey!” she spoke with excitement; just getting a call from her son made her day, judging by the silence and occasional weeping on the other line. “What’s wrong, baby?” Anytime Luca was sad or upset, his parents were there for him, no matter what giant missile life threw at him.

“Mom, I don’t know what to do,” he began to cry, his voice cracking, He had explained to her about his invite to the party and what just happened and the meltdown he had.

“Aww, baby, it’s okay to not know the answer.” Hearing his mom understand him relaxed him, calming his breath. “Sweetheart, I understand how you’re feeling. It’s completely normal to be scared about going to a party, especially when you’re unsure of what to expect. Remember, it’s okay to feel nervous.”

His breath hitched; he began to hiccup. “Maybe you could talk to a friend who’s going and see how they feel about it?” Thinking about what she said, he realized he didn’t really have any friends in university or anywhere in London. So, what was the next best option?

“Think about what you might enjoy about the party—like meeting new people or having fun with friends. If you decide to go, just be yourself. And if you feel uncomfortable at any point, it’s okay to leave. Your feelings matter, and I’m here to support you, no matter what you choose.”

He began to calm down. Just a couple of minutes ago, it felt like the weight of the world was crashing down on him, but hearing his mother’s voice was enough to wash away everything. He wanted to change the topic to avoid the emotional roller coaster he had just thrown at her, but then he heard a door open and a heavy grunt—Luca’s dad was home.

“I have to go, Luca; your father just got back from the store. But we can talk tomorrow. Does that sound good?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Luca replied. There was nothing more he enjoyed than unwinding with his mother; she always had the right answer.

“Mom, I do have one more thing to say.” There was something that had been bothering him lately, and he needed the answer to free his mind. “Can it wait until tomorrow, dear? Your father appears to be struggling.” Disappointed, he reluctantly agreed.

“Of course, Mom,” he said sadly. Judging by his tone, his mom could tell he wanted to talk but couldn’t stop himself from waiting. His father did have a bad back.

“Well, okay. I have to go. Mommy and Daddy love you very much, Luca. Kisses,” she said.

“I love you too, Mom.” She hung up as soon as he responded; she was in a rush. He understood his parents had their own lives, but they always made time for him.

Turning off his phone, Luca made up his mind. Grabbing his laptop that was still on the coffee table, he looked for available flights home after his graduation. There was no one he had to stay with; he didn’t have friends here, and he wasn’t in a relationship this town wouldn’t miss him. Luca let out a heavy breath and flipped through the channels, trying to relax. “I’m here,” he thought. He felt comfortable. Soon, in the next few months, he’d be home—there’s no place like home.

Not more than a couple of miles away, a lonely person stood next to a table full of drinks. They seemed dazed and confused. “Ayo ___, come and dance with me,” a friend said. Looking at them, they replied, “Meh, I don’t know.”

Their friend looked at them, concerned. “Yo ___, you alright? You seem troubled.” They were troubled; something didn’t feel right. He took their hand, wrapping his other arm around their waist, twirling them to him. Nothing else mattered but having ___ someone he longed to hold in his arms, someone he was now face to face with, just a few inches apart.

“I don’t know; I just have a weird feeling,” they said, backing up and looking around.

“Feeling? Like what?” he asked.

“Like someone was supposed to be here…”

[vizishereig]

Could I get "Sleep. I'll keep you safe." for whatever characters/pairing you'd like? :3

hehehe, I'm in a Serrenedy mood, I guess? this takes place in the Meteor Shower universe :D canon or not canon, that's the question >:3

also, before I put this, the pained noise Luis makes when Leon's tail "locks" is not bc it hurts him! it is tight, and it does bruise, but Luis is very very aware that a tail locking means a state of really high stress and feeling safe with that person. so, think of it as Luis reacting bc he's upset Leon had to deal with this whole shitshow!

anyway! here we go :3

41. "Sleep. I'll keep you safe." from this prompt list

Leon is volleyed back and forth between too many rooms after it’s over.

Decontaminate, get blood tested, quarantine. Go home, they tell him, don’t leave your house.

Going home is a funny thought, because his home has gone up in flames like the rest of Procyon. A purge of the infected, one that he was almost a victim of.

The last room is the worst, an unending void of question after question spoken by person after person. He’s forced to cut a deal, forced to be rezoned. The only other option was to be taken, turned into a lab rat instead.

He had hoped he would be put into some sort of office job or something. Hidden, like whatever secrets they were trying to cover up in Procyon. But he’s forced into the militant district, probably the last place he’d want to be.

After that’s done, they keep him in a room, telling him that unless someone can take him home, he’ll stay with them.

He feels like he’s almost in a dream as he’s given his transponder (it’s a cheery yellow color, his favorite. Or it was, because now the yellow is streaked with soot and dirt.) and allowed to contact someone for the first time in what feels like weeks. There’s only one answer here, and it’s obvious.

The message is sent and received, a phone call coming through. He answers.

“Leon, oh my god, you’re alive,” Luis says, clicks and layered with Spanish, he thinks. He makes an affirmative hum, sighing quietly. His tail is dragging in the ground behind him, swaying a little. He’s happy to hear Luis, but too tired to do much else.

“Come get me? I don’t… I don’t have anywhere else to go, I think,” he asks, voice sounding weak. The whole thing is starting to settle in now, making him feel brittle, almost. Like glass. He doesn’t like it.

The noise Luis makes sounds hurt, almost, and Leon thinks that maybe he’s overstepped, but then, “Yes, yeah, of course, love. Send me your location?”

And he does. Luis doesn’t hang up after, staying on the phone and keeping up a steady chatter of commentary. Leon has no energy to talk, giving the occasional click, but staying quiet otherwise.

When Luis finally reaches, he’s ushered out of the building with a bag of his things and nothing more with an order that they’ll send him whatever information he’ll need for his new post soon. Then he’s being held by Luis, soft clicks reverberating in his throat and a red tail wrapping around his leg, firm enough to show that the scientist is here but not enough to bruise.

His own tail comes up to wrap around Luis’s arm and there’s a clicking and stiffening, one that signifies that it’s not going to move for a while. Locked.

The noise Luis makes is pained and he wants to worry about him hurting the man, but he’s safe and he’s tired and Luis will take care of him, right?

“Hey, c’mon Sancho. Get in the car first before you pass out, amor,” Luis mumbles, voice continuing the sentence even after he stops clicking. Getting into the vehicle is awkward and Luis has to do an undignified shuffle over the car console to get to the drivers seat without Leon’s tail disengaging. But he get’s there and Leon drops into the passenger seat with all the grace of a bag of rocks. Luis frets over him a little longer, but finally deems him okay enough.

Still, he doesn’t want to sleep. Not yet. Not when there still could be danger around the corner.

Luis notices, because of course he does, and he brushes away Leon’s fringe from his face with his free hand, leaning over to plant a small kiss against his forehead.

“Sleep. I’ll keep you safe, yeah?” Luis reassures gently, and Leon finally allows himself to fall asleep, feeling the closet to okay he’s been since this whole thing started.

[bangsinc]

Sup sup ^^

Im not sure if you're taking request but Im gonna leave one :P!!

The Spot (or well, Jonathan) before becoming the Spot, still experimenting with the dark matter and how it creates interdimensional portals, so, the reader ends up being sucked by one of them and becames like, a test subject on Alchemax, and they bond together and stuff :]!!

🖤Spot x Alchemax Test Subject!Reader (Hcs) ⚪️

HAHAHA I KNOW YOU FROM PONDCORD HAHAHAHAHA

Anyways, yes! No warnings apart from mentions of human experimentation!

Jonathan is a very shy, very timid man when it comes to social interaction. He gets quiet when talking to another, apart from the occasional stutter to indicate he’s been paying attention. It’s one of the MANY reasons he’s never been fond of human experimentation, apart from the moral implications.

Humans being sucked into one universe from an interdimensional portal was certainly something he wasn’t expecting at that. Everyone in Alchemax threw a complete and utter panic over your arrival.

It’s all too.. real for him. To see a person, just like him, being tested on as if they were a creature or someone unworthy of decency. He tries to keep his professionalism there, but it’s no secret he tries to go out of his way to ensure you’re not completely miserable.

That’s not the only thing that of course fills his guilt, because you’re unable to go home. He could never fathom being so alone (now in his life, at least). Every other day, he decides to strike up a friendly conversation with you. He avoids general questions, like ‘how are you?’ Initially, because.. well.. you’re likely not doing good, and he’d feel guilty hearing that.

Of course, you’d have needs of your own. Food, water, and a place to sleep would surely keep you occupied in the minds of the other scientists forced to test your mind and prod at you. Jonathan goes a couple extra steps, and often sneaks you snacks or even things to do. You’re often questioned on your likes and dislikes, and pretty soon, he finds himself conversing with you as if you were friends. You were so much more to him than a test subject, and he’d want nothing more than to help you escape.. but his job—and life—would be at stake.

What was once just an occasional friendly chat has now turned into shared lunch breaks and memories. He feels open around you, despite your situation and the power he technically does hold over you and your well-being. He talks to you more than his coworkers, who find that fact both interesting and frustrating. He’s likely the one taking care of you the most at Alchemax due to your bias for one another.

Someday in the future, things will be far more different. He’ll understand your feelings of being outcasted, and it will lead him to value and understand you on a far more deeper and intimate level.

[froot-batty]

it's tha joka baby

the great thing about having your own au is that you can take characters you dont like and make them completely different people until you like them

lore's under the cut!

??? (Nickname: J) lived a relatively simple life in the beginning. Coming from a terrible home, she never really flourished - simply went through the motions that were expected of any person in her generation. She eventually landed a job as a children's magician/clown, and while she was good at it, it didn't rake in as much money as she needed to live comfortably.

Especially considering the fact that she was a young, single mom. Her kid was about the only thing tethering her to a normal life, out of a desire to be better than her own parents were to her.

J had always had impulses. Desires. Be it a product of his upbringing, or his terribly boring existence, but he'd always had the desire to do bad things. Shake things up - like popping a bounce house with the kids inside, or bashing a particularly annoying participant over the head with his magician's wand. Things he'd repress, for obvious reasons. All except for one.

She had started stealing money or other valuables from her customers. Though she was desperate to be normal, J would often find ways to excuse her behavior. She wasn't able to keep the lights on at her current salary? Well, it was only fair that she took a little extra while on a job - she had earned it, after all; didn't you know how little this job paid? It wasn't anything they'd miss.

And that worked for a good long while. Until he opened his mailbox to find a letter.

The Red Hood Gang, in this universe, is basically a method of distraction. Does someone need everyone's eyes on something else while they go about their own plans? They pay Red Hood One to gather a group of his cronies and go cause mischief somewhere. J had been one of the people summoned to work as a Red Hood, as they had a whole heaping handful of evidence of her larceny as well as a clear threat against the life of her daughter.

With no choice, J donned the Red Hood. At first it went against everything she had been trying so hard to do; not to hurt people, or do anything bad, just keep herself in line. But, she couldn't deny...there was a certain freedom to it. When she donned the mask, she could be anyone she wanted, and no one would be able to tie what she did back to her.

Slowly, the guilt began to fade away. And J started to get ideas.

J adored the merry mischief that the Hoods would occasionally get into. Sometimes their plans were rigid (often defined by the person paying Red Hood One), but, occasionally, they were allowed to do whatever the hell they wanted. It was these times that J shined amongst the Hoods, as her plans were chaotic and nonsensical and drew in the people who also saw being a Hood as a chance at freedom. She eventually began to outshine Red Hood One, and would start to hold meetings with other Hoods in secret.

J began to wonder: what was the point of only having this sort of chaos contained to small bursts? So many people she knew - herself included - had been freed by chaos and madness. And she had seen firsthand the changes it could bring when the Hoods struck. Being paid for what they did didn't sit right with her; the nonsense of life should be a gift bestowed upon for free.

He had begun to sink deeper in the Red Hood ideals and lifestyle, and in turn started to neglect his normal one. He stopped stealing money, stopped putting effort into his job, and generally just...stopped being a person altogether. Being out of the mask felt like he was playing pretend now.

This did have one consequence that devastated him, though. His daughter, his only tether to normality, was taken away from him due to his accidental neglect in his ever-growing madness. This was the final thing to push J over the edge.

J had decided, then, that nothing in life mattered. It was a lesson she decided to teach the rest of Gotham - the only thing above all was madness, and chaos, and all of the things people locked deep inside themselves. J had already become popular amongst the Red Hoods, and so she finally took the mantle of Red Hood One by killing her predecessor. With her new title, she lead a new era of Hoods, ones who performed nonsensical crimes who had no pattern other than what caused the most disruption or destruction as possible. She was determined to paint the city mad.

When her and her Hoods were hitting Ace Chemicals, they were interrupted by Batman - who was a relatively new hero at the time. He had not known yet that the entire chemical plant was dangerously unstable, and as he engaged Red Hood One, the railing under their feet began to break. During their fight, it eventually gave way, and while Batman was able to cling to the edge and save himself, J wasn't so lucky.

After his accident in the chemical plant, J gave up completely the mask of the Red Hood. Now he had one burned permanently into his entire body. He took the moniker of the Joker, after a nickname he'd gained during his time as a Red Hood, and he's still deadset on showing Gotham the innate absurdness and chaotic meaninglessness of life.

....At least, that's what Bruce has pieced together. Who knows if any of it's the truth?

[blainesebastian]

routine (ccg universe)

words: 3,189 ship: austin butler x reader summary: (anon request) “ccg and austin have a disagreement/fight while she’s pregnant and usually he always touches her belly but since they’re mad he’s not” notes: thanks to anyone who reads and leaves likes, comments, reblogs or asks :) requests are tentatively open.  warnings: none tag list: @killerqueenfan, @karamelcoveredolicity, @elizabethrosecresswell, @gigisworldsstuff, @stylespresleyhearted

You know that having a baby is going to change everything—regardless that you’re not one hundred percent sure on the logistics, which doesn’t matter quite yet, because the knowing makes you feel like you’re ready to anticipate as much as you can. Accepting that you’re open to ride with whatever the universe is going to throw in your direction…which is definitely not how you were before. You liked plans, you liked knowing what was next, you lived on considering what was ahead of you—five to fifteen steps, mapped out.

The shift is jarring and terrifying but…having Austin by your side is a comfort that you can’t quite put into words.

You both find yourselves inside one another, you create a new a normal, and you settle into routines that constantly remind you that home is a person just as much as it’s a place. It definitely helps ground you.

It doesn’t have to be completely groundbreaking either, you’re talking about simple things. You sigh softly as you lean back against the headboard, glancing away from a script you’re reading that Austin’s gotten recently to look over at your husband. This is a perfect example that sometimes you find yourself thinking about. It’s become such a part of your nightly routine that you barely think about it. You should, if you’re being honest, because it’s one of your most favorite things and noticeable when absent.

Since you’ve become pregnant, any night that Austin is in bed with you, his hand finds its way to your stomach. You can tell he’s not really thinking about it, more of an absentminded touch that’s been there in the past but somehow completely different now. His connection lingers, fingers tracing the swell of your belly as you’ve gotten bigger.

He notices he does it, because occasionally he’ll kiss your stomach before pulling away, but it’s not like you both have to talk about it either. It’s—simple, there, that feeling of home in a single touch.

You set down the script, adjusting yourself on the pillows as Austin answers emails on his phone. You lean into his hand, closing your eyes for a moment. You’re just leaving your first trimester and your body is having trouble abandoning morning sickness (which can’t tell time). You can feel Austin shift but don’t open your eyes, even when he presses a kiss to your temple, his hand rubbing back and forth over your stomach in small patterned circles.

“Not feelin’ well?”

You sigh, running a hand through your hair, “I swear, every time I think I’m through it, another bout of nausea visits.”

Austin sets his phone down on the nightstand as you open your eyes and…half the time you think you’ll start to get used to how easily handsome he is, but you don’t. He’s in comfortable clothes, a pair of black joggers and a white t-shirt, this thin gold chain around his neck and tucked under the collar. He smells like lingering wafts of sandalwood from his cologne and skin, something distinctly Austin. His hair is a bit unkempt, but you like it like that, it’s from running his hands through it, a stubborn curl on his forehead that’s refusing to settle.

It makes your lips twitch into the smallest of smiles.

“I’ll get you some tea—think we still got that mint you like.”

Before he can move, you shake your head, looping an arm through his and resting against his shoulder. “No, don’t.” You sigh a bit dramatically, closing your eyes again, “It’ll pass.”

A soft chuckle vibrates in Austin’s chest that you can feel rather than hear. He moves his arm to wrap around you, drawing you into his side as much as your belly will allow. One of the only downsides of this whole pregnancy thing…you really feel like you’re not as close as you want to be to your husband.

Your arm settles on his torso and his hand rests on your belly again, tracing shapes.

“Really wish this girl would learn how to tell time,” You tease, shifting a bit. You let out a soft grimace of uncomfortableness. “Second trimester is supposed to be the most enjoyable?” Maybe that’s something to look forward to.

Crinkling your nose, you tip your chin back a little so you can look up at Austin, “Remember when we went to that after-party on that boat because Baz insisted—”

Austin laughs lightly, his hand rubbing your shoulder, “You were so seasick.”

You whine lightly, “I’m usually not even bad with boats, like, the water was so choppy.”

He smiles, pressing his lips to your forehead, “You were lookin’ green for the duration of that party, I didn’t think you were gonna make it.”

You gently smack his chest with a fond eyeroll, settling your head back against his chest. You can feel his heartbeat along the shell of your ear, “That’s exactly how this feels.”

“I’d say that this was surprisin’ but it’s not, given that she’s already a troublemaker like you.”

You could fall asleep like this, just might with all the small touches Austin is giving you. The heat of his body, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes, his scent sticking to his clothes—always a perfect storm.

“If that’s the case, you’re definitely in for it.” You mumble as you begin to drift off.

You can feel Austin smile, a soft breath leaving his nose as he chuckles, “Don’t I know it.”

--

Here’s the thing about you and Austin—you rarely have arguments. Sure, there are disagreements every now and then, because what couple doesn’t go through that? You’re human, stuff happens, but it blows over. It doesn’t become anything unpleasant.

Your point being, when it happens? It’s definitely pretty bad.

Part of the problem lately is that a lot of things have been piling into the pressure cooker—Austin’s a bit testier than usual because he’s stressed about an upcoming project (and what it’ll look like to create a balance between his passion and being a father), you’re hormonal and also considering the same thing, constantly, finding your equilibrium in becoming a parent and not letting go of a career that you just managed to sink your teeth into. You don’t want to let it go but you also know you have to figure out what your median is. There’s no set plan other than there is no plan—and that’s very new and terrifying for you. Everyone who loves and cares about you is being super supportive in figuring it out; Austin, Jillian, your other friends and family…all except your mother.

And that’s what’s really bothering you right now.

It’s not that she’s never been supportive, she has, it’s just…sometimes she has this running commentary that is not at all helpful. It’s just her thoughts bursting forth with no consideration or hesitating filter, her concerns and worry somehow making her judgmental and insensitive and you just…can’t put up with it right now? Emotions for you are raw and heavy, swift in how they come down on your shoulders. It’s something you’re processing and dealing with and unfortunately just comes with the territory of being pregnant but…

It's such a bad combination.

Usually? Austin is nothing but encouraging, gentle, soft? A partner. You feel like a team.

Today however? Just the wrong conversation at the wrong time.

You can tell he’s already tense as he stands in the kitchen, half-listening to your rant about the phone call you had with your mother and half-reading the script in his hand as you make dessert (eating whipped cream from a bowl). Your cravings have been sweet as of late, so more than often you’ll bake something to keep yourself moving and your hands busy but because you’re also stressed, you’re eating things more than making anything.

“At this point I’m about to hang up on her,” You lick the spoon, “And then she says, ‘well Y/N, maybe you shouldn’t have gotten pregnant if you can’t handle a work-life balance’.”

That…that actually kind of hurt to hear your mom say, if you’re being honest. It’s not that you were even complaining or saying that you don’t want or can’t do this. You were just venting and you feel foolish thinking your mom would just listen instead of turning it into some kind of lecture.

“So ridiculous.” You mumble under your breath.

Austin sighs softly, setting down the script on the island counter. “I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but I think you’re overreactin’ a little bit.”

You slowly put the spoon down in the bowl because… ‘don’t take this the wrong way’? “How else am I supposed to take that?”

He bites the inside of his cheek for a moment, looking like he might say something else when—“Nevermind.”

You know right there and then you should just let it go. Austin’s got his own things going on and you’ve got adrenaline leftover from your conversation with your mother and this should probably wait but…no? It’s not fair for him to say you’re overreacting.

“Those are just my feelings, Austin, there’s no overreaction about it.”

You can tell by the look on his face that he can sense this discussion is going south, fast, “I don’t want to argue about this.”

Bristling, you put the bowl and spoon in the sink from the whipped cream, “And by that, you mean you don’t want to talk about it.” You lean back against the counter, crossing your arms over your chest.

Austin’s face kinda crinkles in light confusion, annoyance starting to gently inflect his tone of voice, “Y/N, I’m sure your mom didn’t mean anythin’ by that, alright? She’s just worried—”

Oh my god, you cannot believe he’s taking her side in all this. You try to approach this from somewhere a bit more rational because…you know he didn’t actually hear the conversation you had with your mother. But it also really rubs you the wrong way—you have genuine emotions about this, feelings that Austin is usually so supportive about. You just want him to hear you? It’s perfectly okay if he can’t right now, if he has to fill up his own cup before being able to pour into yours.

But, “You can worry about someone else and not say mean things to them.”

He tilts his head and fixes you with this look and you know something condescending is about to come out, “Look…you’re hormonal right now—”

That is the wrong thing to say. Nothing shoots through your veins red hot than comments like that. You instantly stand up straight, shoulders rearing back just slightly as if his words slap you across the face, “Don’t, don’t do that.” You snap. “You do not get to invalidate my feelings and blame them on pregnancy hormones.”

“Well if the shoe fits.” He throws back, voice just as sharp.

Any other time, any other time, you’d throw in another jab or maybe storm off dramatically by slamming the door to the bedroom closed but…Austin just kinda takes the wind out of your sails. And regardless that you’re trying to get him to understand that this conversation with your mother hurt you, and those emotions are real, you are also dealing with pregnancy hormones. He just doesn’t get to use them as an excuse. He’s never made you feel irrational about your own feelings.

So your face just kind of crumbles, tears beginning to fill your eyes and you feel so overwhelmed at it even happening because you’re not usually like this. You can see the shift instantly on Austin’s face—his own stress and frustration, anger, melting away to guilt and concern, apologies.

“Shit,” He mumbles under his breath, stepping around the island counter to reach for you. “Hey,” Austin whispers, “Hey, c’mere.”

“Please don’t touch me right now.” You sniffle, pushing his hand away, wiping a few tears off your cheeks as they begin to fall.

Needing space to breathe, you turn to walk out of the kitchen and make a b-line for the bedroom.

--

The apartment is quiet for the duration of the night as you and Austin steer clear of one another. There’s no outright avoidance? But you can tell he feels bad for what he said and you’re feeling particularly raw and ridiculous all at the same time—you’re trying to tell yourself that there’s no need to be sorry for having feelings, you don’t need to validate or explain anything. Maybe you should have waited to have any type of charged conversation when you could tell your husband was dealing with his own emotional baggage, but hindsight is always clear.

It's instinctual to crawl into bed together, even though you’re both creating space by doing your own thing. You’re scrolling through Instagram, Austin is reading his script and making notes occasionally in the margins. You’ve always kind of scoffed at the sentiment of ‘never going to bed angry’—sometimes that makes the most sense. There’s no reason to force a conversation and somehow make it worse. You know that tomorrow it’ll be easier to talk about, right now it’d be nothing but forced apologies.

You shift in bed, getting ready to put your phone on the nightstand and turn on your side to sleep, when you feel Austin’s hand move to your belly and—there’s this moment of shared realization. It’s completely absentminded on his end, just part of the routine of being in bed, and a kneejerk reaction from you of not wanting to be touched. You lean out of it and catch a glimpse of his face, which is definitely crushed and yet understanding at the same time.

He's done this every night but…not tonight.

--

It’s the weird dream that wakes you, that you were in a boat but underwater? rolling against the ocean bed with the waves, but it’s the sharp nausea that keeps you awake. You take a deep breath in through your nose, hoping it’ll pass, but it just gets worse. God, this morning sickness is so terrible…and once again, it can’t tell time. You glance at the illuminated numbers of the clock on your bedside table, two A.M., and pull yourself from bed. Moving quickly to the bathroom, you barely get the door slightly closed and the lights on before you’re throwing up.

Your knees hit the tile too hard and tears are stinging the back of your eyes as you grab onto the toilet bowl, emptying the contents of your stomach from dinner and dessert. A soft whine leaves your lips, sniffling, and you flush the toilet before leaning back to sit against the tub. A cold sweat kisses your skin and you shiver lightly, waiting for the sour stomach to pass.

When you hear the door creak, you glance up to see Austin standing in the doorframe, and all those negative feelings from before just kind of melt away. He gives you a gentle smile, running a hand through his bedhead curls.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” His voice is soft, “But you look terrible.”

You choke out a laugh, shaking your head. Sniffling, you run a hand over your face, “Shut up.”

Austin lets out a long sigh through his nose, moving to grab a washcloth and fill it up with warm water from the sink. He squeezes out the excess and sits down after closing the toilet seat, gently tipping your chin back so he can run the fabric along your forehead, down your cheeks, on the back of your neck.

You can’t help but let out a soft noise of relief, your eyes fluttering closed as Austin presses a few comforting kisses to your temple. It’s quiet for a while, which is nice because it lets you self-evaluate whether or not you’re going to be sick again. Seems like its passed for the most part, thank God.

Austin places his hand along the side of your head, brushing his thumb through your hair. You look up at him, swallowing over the fading sour taste in your mouth. “I’m sorry.”

You shake your head, chewing on your lower lip, “I was—pestering.”

“No,” Austin replies quickly, “You were talkin’ to me and I…I just threw your words back into your face.”

You want to get into this whole thing about how you could feel that he hadn’t been in the right frame of mind for that conversation but you proceeded anyways, but the words just die on your tongue. You’re tired and there’s this faint pulsing in your temples, the beginning of a headache.

But that’s the thing about Austin, he knows you, “I didn’t have the best day with the script but I didn’t mean to bring that home to you,” He lifts his hand to run his fingers more fully through your hair, “I know your mom sometimes likes to find your pressure points and push.”

You nod a little, hating that you feel that lump start to appear in your throat all over again, averting your eyes from Austin’s gaze.

“Y/N, you’re going to be an amazing mother—you don’t have to have it all figured out. And no…offense to your mother, but she doesn’t know what the fuck she’s talkin’ about half the time.”

You let out a soft laugh, sniffling, some tears accidentally slipping down your face. You run your hands over your cheeks and you know that Austin has a point. Despite your mom’s good intentions, she often just talks out the side of her mouth. She worries and overcompensates and…sometimes what she says gets stuck inside your head. Even though it’s not a new realization, you’re reminded how much you need to hear Austin talk to you about it, how important it feels to have him in your corner.

You hope to do the same for him tomorrow morning, to give him the same time and support about whatever happened with his script to put him in a sour mood.

You rest your hand on his knee and squeeze, the words thank you in your touch. He gives you a soft smile, leaning back a bit, “C’mere.”

He holds his hand out for you to take to help you off the floor and once you’re up, he wraps an arm around your waist to fold you into his embrace. You sit between his legs, on his one thigh, smiling down at him as you wipe your face again. Even though your cheeks are flushed, at least you’re not crying anymore.

Austin presses a kiss to your collarbone, squeezing you, “I’m sorry.” He repeats.

Letting out a sigh, you cup his cheek and run your thumb along his lower lip before moving his curls off his forehead with your fingers, “You’re forgiven.”

He smiles and you can’t help but lean down to plant a kiss to the corner of his mouth, your foreheads pressing together afterwards. His hand ends up on your stomach, his fingers splayed, thumb tracing your skin. Admittedly, it definitely makes you feel better.