#he's not uncomfortable he just looks uncomfortable at all times. it's whatever.

[henrycangelbaby]

Thinking about John Price and his cute little assistant (reader) who ends up pregnant. 

A/N: Guys i was inspired while scrolling on the john price x reader tag, this legit came to me as a vision and now i have to write it (I plan on expanding on this idea so just stay with me!!!!)

Imagine being John Price's cute little assistant, just the sweetest little thing that John is kinda obsessed with. Like don't get me wrong she is amazing at her job, smart, put together and well organized and John does feel that her addition has been a positive one, taking some pressure off his shoulders and making sure his team is always prepared for whatever they are doing. She is very good at what she does, but that doesn’t stop John from admiring her. He knows he shouldn't be bit, he can't help it, she's young and sweet and a little bit innocent and he just wants to protect and love her all the time. 

In the beginning she was shy, only addressing him as sir and knocking on his door hesitantly whenever she needed to speak to him but gradually their boundaries became less and less. More often than not she works out of his office, whether he’s there or not, he insists on buying her an early lunch when she lets slip that she didn't have breakfast that morning. He has even picked her up from a night out once or twice, a little bit tipsy and calling the most trusted person she can think of that just happened to be her boss. He takes care of her as well, helping her get her makeup and clothes off before tucking her into her bed with a bottle of water and pain killers for the morning. He doesn't mention it when he sees her next, knowing how embarrassed she will be when he tells her the loneliness her tipsy self admitted. 

When she starts to get sick John is having absolutely none of it, driving her home and ordering her to take some time off (he even visits later that night to bring her some soup for her stomach). He doesn't expect her to look so sad when she comes back supposedly better from her “flu”, he doesn't expect to see her eyes shine with tears when he asks “what's wrong babygirl?”.  He sits them down on the couch in his office together, putting an arm over her and pulling her close for comfort. He certainly does not expect her to look up at him with those shiny wet eyes and admit she did something bad before crying that she's pregnant. It’s news to John who never even considered that his girl would be dating (let alone sleeping with) people. When he vocalizes this and she admits that her baby daddy isn't a very good guy, it's over for John. 

Suddenly he's all over her, promising to be there for her, that she can come to him whenever she needs. And he actually means it. Suddenly she’s staying in the spare bedroom in his house, not only does it have more room but John can keep an eye on her. She entirely moves into his office working on his desk with him, he gets her a comfy chair so she can be supported in the later months. He gets up to hold her hair back when she has morning sickness and ensures she gets enough nutritious food each day. When she starts showing, oh my god John doesn't know what to do with himself. That little bump peaking out of her tight skirts makes him foam at the mouth. Of course he prioritizes her comfort, insisting she change shoes and stop wearing those uncomfortable looking heels, but he keeps her in her formal work attire for just a little longer, just so he can see her cute tummy poking out of it. 

Speaking of her bump. He simply can't resist putting his hand on it. He feels so protective over it, best believe he goes feral if anyone tries to touch it. Hell all but breaks loose when his precious baby looks up at him with teary eyes telling him how uncomfortable she was when some rando put their hand on her stomach, (someone definitely lost their job that day). He eventually has her sitting in his lap, cooing over her and reassuring her that they won't get in trouble, that really he is the big boss anyways. He just loves having her there, perched on top of him he rests his head on her shoulder both arms coming around to cradle her now bigger bump. 

John mandates maternity leave when she starts getting big, maybe around seven months when she spends a lot of her time complaining about back aches and swollen ankles, of course he does what he can to help her but it gets to the point where he knows that she should be resting. He has to basically forcibly put her on leave, reassuring her panics about money by promising to take care of her. And oh boy does he. He gives her foot massages and holds her belly, when she starts outgrowing her clothes best believe he would hand over any of his so she can fit in them more comfortably. He's just all over her, unable to stomach the fact that soon she will have a real live baby. That baby is about to become the most protected baby in the entire world.

That's all I have for now because I fear if I begin rambling about the rest of the 141 neither of us might make it out alive. (just know this baby is going to be so damn spoiled it’s crazy). 

[seitmai]

I loved this and therfore have many thoughts

Early September was brutal in southern California. Each day seemed hotter than the one before it, and even the smallest bit of yard work was enough to leave Bradley sweaty and miserable. He stood in the middle of his front yard, eyes closed, thinking about how beautiful autumn was in Virginia when he was a kid. He leaned against the handle of the rake, picturing a pumpkin patch, a corn maze and all the things he would never find in San Diego.

🥺🥺🥺

What he didn't mention was the fact that he often still felt like a bit of an outsider in town, even though he attended all the neighborhood potlucks and still had some blond in his hair from hanging out on the local beaches all summer.

Poor Bradley 🥺

"And you like the neighborhood?" you asked, fully facing him now with a smirk on your face. He shrugged the best he could without moving too much. "I might like it better now."

Oh he is such a flirt 🤭

Then there was the day you bumped into him coming out of the salon next to his barber, and he complimented your colorful nails at the same time you told him his haircut looked nice. He blushed, and you smiled before turning toward your car, glancing back at him a little expectantly. 

So cute😍

"Why's that?" you asked, placing your hand on your hip while you held up a head of cabbage. "You're a picky eater?" He shook his head and took a step closer to you. "The exact opposite. I love food. I will eat literally anything that is edible." "I guess it makes sense that you love food," you told him with a smile. "You're a big boy." Your gaze drifted down along his shoulders and chest before you started to look a little embarrassed. "I... yeah... I think I'll just grab whatever looks good and take it from there. See you on Friday night?" "Yeah," he grunted as you walked toward an eggplant display. He would see you on Friday night. And he would be prepared ahead of time to ask you out.

He definitely is rehearsing, asking her out in front of the mirror as soon as he is home 🤭

Once again, your laughter had him ready to drop what he was holding and reach for you. He had to ask you out tonight. It had been weeks already since you moved in, and you were definitely giving him a green light. He could think of a dozen different restaurants he wanted to take you to, and maybe you'd like the artsy little movie theater.

It's so cute that he has all these ideas already 🥹

He ran his hand over his face and groaned, parking in front of the restaurant and yanking his keys from the ignition. If he'd just asked you out that day, maybe he'd be picking up twice as much food and sharing it with you tonight.

Oh he is regretting all his life choices right then and there

The air was silent except for the muffled sound of food being prepared in the kitchen behind him. Your eyes looked so sad as you shook your head and pressed your lips together. "No. No, I'm sorry, Bradley."

Oh noooo💔🥺

For the first time since he moved to California, the air outside was too cold. There was an uncomfortable knot in his stomach as he glanced over at your car. He shivered miserably as he saw the shadow of someone waiting in your passenger seat. Then he drove home and ate alone in his kitchen before going to bed.

He is heartbroken before anything even happened 💔 🥲

Today was Halloween, and he spent over an hour carving some of the pumpkins to look like soccer balls before dressing in his usual costume. Handing candy out to the neighborhood kids and trying to guess what they were dressed as sounded like fun. He was determined to have a good night, even if he did have to angle the folding chair on his porch so he was facing slightly away from your house. He would enjoy himself no matter what.

🥺🥺🥺

"Where's Raphael?" he asked as they collected their candy.  Leonardo laughed and said, "Nobody wants to be Raphael. He's the lamest one." "I would have to agree," Bradley replied, about to help himself to a piece of candy as they started to run to the next house.

I feel like Rooster is good with kids because he has the same interests as kids it seems 😅

"Hi," you replied immediately, looking from his mustache to the whistle around his neck and back up to his visor. "Are you seriously dressed as Ted Lasso?" "I always dress as Ted Lasso," he told you, and he was rewarded with a smile that made him want to follow you around the neighborhood like a lost puppy. 

Oh he 100% would

The kid nodded but said, "You need to call it a football." Bradley found himself agreeing. "You're completely right. It's only proper."

Come on Bradley, get into your role☝🏻

Your eyes were alert, scrutinizing his expression as you said, "His name is Max. He's almost ten." "He looks like you." You went silent for a few seconds, fiddling with the soccer ball in your hands. When you finally spoke, you were looking at Bradley's feet. "I knew you didn't know about him. I mean, you did ask me out after all." You laughed even though nothing was funny and finally looked up at his face. Then Max started to walk back the way you and he came, and you followed him. Bradley called your name. When you turned back, he said, "To be clear, I would have still asked you out if I'd known." And then you looked so sad again.

🥺🥲😭

"It's a spicy buffalo dip," you replied, smile growing. "I literally made it with chicken from a can. I'm pretty sure you could trick them into thinking it came from your kitchen. You can even take your tortilla chips, too."

She truly made it thinking about him 🥹

His fingers tightened on the handles when you took a small step closer to him. This was agony, being so close to you when he really wanted to touch you, but knew he couldn't. He whispered your name at the same time you looked up at him and started talking. "Max isn't my son. He's my nephew. But I'm his legal guardian now." Bradley's lips parted, but you shook your head and quickly added. "The night of the last potluck, I got a phone call that my brother and his wife were in a car accident. They both died before they reached the hospital. I had to pick Max up from soccer practice that night, and he's been with me ever since." Tears were welling up in your eyes as Bradley tried to shuffle your crock pot to one hand. He knew how badly this kind of thing hurt from his own childhood. "Shit. I'm really sorry the two of you are going through this. But Max is lucky he has you." When you nodded and shrugged, you looked resigned to the way things were. "I'm also pretty sure Max prefers it when you call it football. Not soccer."

😭😭😭

Almost a year later, Bradley was standing in his front yard, smiling at the SOLD sticker placed on a realty sign in front of your house. It made sense to have you and Max move into the white cottage with him, because the porch was bigger. It was the perfect size for an elaborate Halloween display.

It was over almost as quickly as it started, and Bradley was ready to drop to his knees and beg you for more. But you were rambling now, and he was trying his best to focus. "I wanted you to ask me out so badly. But then everything changed, and I had to tell you no. Max has a lot he still needs to process, and I don't really have time to date someone who just wants to mess around with me." For the first time in many weeks, Bradley felt lighter than air. He reached out with his free hand and let his knuckles trail gently along your cheek and down to your softly parted lips. "I'm forty years old. I'm kind of over the messing around stage," he promised. And then you were kissing him again.

Ahhhh this is perfect 😭🥰🥳🥹😍

I love it!! I feel like this is a role Bradley would thrive in, because of him loosing his parents young too, he would try the hardest and kinda knows what it can feel like or a person in a situation like that needs 🥹🫶🏻

California Autumn | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley was drawn to you the minute you moved onto his street. You seemed to bump into one another everywhere, and each time he saw your smile or heard your laugh, he knew he had to ask you out. He wasn't expecting the answer you gave him, just as you weren't expecting to wish he could be the man for you.

Warnings: angst, fluff, adult language, mentions of accident/death, guardianship of child

Length: 3500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more

Early September was brutal in southern California. Each day seemed hotter than the one before it, and even the smallest bit of yard work was enough to leave Bradley sweaty and miserable. He stood in the middle of his front yard, eyes closed, thinking about how beautiful autumn was in Virginia when he was a kid. He leaned against the handle of the rake, picturing a pumpkin patch, a corn maze and all the things he would never find in San Diego.

The sound of something bigger than a car coming down his quiet side street had him cracking his eyes open against the Saturday afternoon sun. A U-Haul lumbered to a stop in front of the house across the street and one door down. The engine settled to silence, and he craned his neck to get a better look. The property had been sitting there with a red and white SOLD sticker over the realty sign for what seemed like months, and now it would appear as though he finally had a new neighbor.

Bradley dropped the rake and had to lunge to grab the handle before it clattered against his stone pathway. The woman who climbed out of the truck, hopping down onto the street in some beat up sneakers, was beautiful. The sun seemed to illuminate her from the inside, and now Bradley was setting the rake down softly as she walked around the truck and slid the back open. It was filled with furniture and boxes, and he watched as an avalanche nearly flowed out as she tried to move one item.

"Shit," he grunted, running across the street as he wiped his dirty hands on the hem of his undershirt. "It looks like you could use a hand," he called out, hoping he wouldn't scare you when he came up behind you just in time to catch a dining chair that was teetering above your head. Then the neatly stacked boxes started to give out as well, and his left hand went to steady them.

You were ducking slightly, preparing for the worst when Bradley realized your back was pressed against his chest. If he moved, there would be a lot of broken furniture to contend with. But then you glanced at him over your shoulder as you stood to your full height, eyes wide and lips parted in surprise.

If you looked beautiful from across the street, then you looked stunning up close, trapped between his body and the truck. "Welcome to the neighborhood," he mumbled like an idiot, but he was rewarded by the smile that curled along your lips.

"Hey, you're pretty good at being neighborly," you replied, gesturing to his right hand holding the chair and his left securing the stack of boxes. His heartbeat quickened at the sound of your voice and how close you were as you told him your name and asked which house was his.

"I'm Bradley. The white cottage across the street." He nodded toward his mess of a front yard with his chin. "I moved in about six months ago." 

What he didn't mention was the fact that he often still felt like a bit of an outsider in town, even though he attended all the neighborhood potlucks and still had some blond in his hair from hanging out on the local beaches all summer. At the moment, all he could do was fight the urge to tell you how pretty your eyes were.

"And you like the neighborhood?" you asked, fully facing him now with a smirk on your face.

He shrugged the best he could without moving too much. "I might like it better now."

Your eyes widened a bit before you ducked your head, looking up at him with a surprised smile like you couldn't quite believe what he'd just said. And that's when Bradley heard another vehicle pull up behind him. "That would be my friends. Here to help me unpack."

He wanted to joke that it looked like you needed all the help you could get with your furniture avalanche, but he heard several voices calling your name and rushing over to help. He was invited to stay, but when he was finally able to safely back away without anything falling, he realized four other people were there to help you out.

Your eyes were still focused on his as he started to back away. "I'll see you around?" you asked before chewing on your lip.

"I would count on it," he confirmed, turning back toward his house so you could get settled into yours.

But he did hear one of your friends ask, "Who is he?"

"Bradley," you replied, just barely loud enough for him to hear. "From the white cottage."

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

After that first encounter, he saw you everywhere. You were pulling into the parking spot next to his Bronco when he came out of the grocery store. When he asked how you liked your new house, it sparked a conversation about hardwood versus porcelain tile flooring, and Bradley's ice cream was completely melted by the time he got home.

Then there was the day you bumped into him coming out of the salon next to his barber, and he complimented your colorful nails at the same time you told him his haircut looked nice. He blushed, and you smiled before turning toward your car, glancing back at him a little expectantly. 

Then he ran into you at the farmer's market where you were buying vegetables for the upcoming neighborhood potluck. You asked him what he thought you should make.

"Well, I'm the wrong person to ask," he replied, feeling a little lightheaded as his brain begged him to ask you out on a date.

"Why's that?" you asked, placing your hand on your hip while you held up a head of cabbage. "You're a picky eater?"

He shook his head and took a step closer to you. "The exact opposite. I love food. I will eat literally anything that is edible."

Your bright laughter cascaded across his skin as your head tipped back. The expanse of your neck looked smooth and perfect, and Bradley wanted to have your permission to put his lips there. And that was a startling thought since nobody had really caught his attention like this since he was first stationed in San Diego. Nobody made him feel like he was at home in his house before you started waving to him whenever you saw him outside.

"I guess it makes sense that you love food," you told him with a smile. "You're a big boy." Your gaze drifted down along his shoulders and chest before you started to look a little embarrassed. "I... yeah... I think I'll just grab whatever looks good and take it from there. See you on Friday night?"

"Yeah," he grunted as you walked toward an eggplant display. He would see you on Friday night. And he would be prepared ahead of time to ask you out.

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

"No," you gasped. Bradley recognized your voice and turned around to face you in Mrs. Diaz's kitchen. "That's what you brought to the potluck?" You sounded appalled, but you were clearly smiling as you looked at what he was holding.

"I told you I liked to eat food, not that I knew how to cook anything."

"Bradley," you groaned, shaking your head at the bag of chips and jar of salsa in his hands. "This is bad. Next time, I'll prepare two dishes so you can pretend you made one."

His heart skipped a beat at the idea of handing you things in his kitchen and watching you make something as nice as the lasagna you were holding. "It's useless," he replied with a frown. "After six months of bringing restaurant style tortilla chips and medium salsa, nobody would believe I cooked anything."

Once again, your laughter had him ready to drop what he was holding and reach for you. He had to ask you out tonight. It had been weeks already since you moved in, and you were definitely giving him a green light. He could think of a dozen different restaurants he wanted to take you to, and maybe you'd like the artsy little movie theater.

But he watched you get swept up in conversation after conversation, and then the opportunity slipped away when you ducked away from everyone to answer a call. You had a concerned look on your face with your phone pressed to your cheek, and then you were rushing out of Mrs. Diaz's house and along her front path before you disappeared from view.

Suddenly it was well into October, and he'd barely seen you at all. There were a few mornings that felt cool enough to coax him to buy some pumpkins for his front porch. He thought about taking one over to your house as an excuse to finally ask you out, but he figured you must be pretty busy right now. Maybe work got a little crazy. He tried not to imagine that someone else had asked you out and that was the reason why you were so scarce.

"Damn," he grunted when he drove his Bronco past your house on his way to get some takeout for dinner on a Saturday night. He just couldn't stop thinking about you. Why didn't he ask you out that first day when he saved you from your dining chair? He ran his hand over his face and groaned, parking in front of the restaurant and yanking his keys from the ignition. If he'd just asked you out that day, maybe he'd be picking up twice as much food and sharing it with you tonight.

A minute later, when he turned to leave the restaurant with his bag, he could not believe his luck. You were walking inside. "Hey."

You glanced up, and for the briefest second, you smiled at him like you always used to. "Bradley." But then your smile started to fade away slowly, and he would do anything to bring it back.

His heart was pounding, and his brain was screaming at him, so he squared his shoulders and did the only thing he could do. "Hey, if you're free tomorrow night, I was thinking maybe you and I could get dinner? Or hit up the movie theater on Pomona? The seats are uncomfortable, but they show some indie stuff which could be fun. Or maybe another night might work?"

The air was silent except for the muffled sound of food being prepared in the kitchen behind him. Your eyes looked so sad as you shook your head and pressed your lips together. "No. No, I'm sorry, Bradley."

Well, fuck.

He backed away from you until he bumped into the wall, and then he focused on getting to the door. "Right," he replied after he had a few more feet between your body and his. "Well, I'll see you around the neighborhood."

For the first time since he moved to California, the air outside was too cold. There was an uncomfortable knot in his stomach as he glanced over at your car. He shivered miserably as he saw the shadow of someone waiting in your passenger seat. Then he drove home and ate alone in his kitchen before going to bed.

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

Bradley tried his best not to think about you. One day last week, when he saw your front door swing open, he waited to step down from his porch so you wouldn't have to wave awkwardly to him. And yesterday, for lack of anything better to do, he bought more pumpkins, and he waited in his driveway to unload them until you carried all of your groceries inside your house. 

Today was Halloween, and he spent over an hour carving some of the pumpkins to look like soccer balls before dressing in his usual costume. Handing candy out to the neighborhood kids and trying to guess what they were dressed as sounded like fun. He was determined to have a good night, even if he did have to angle the folding chair on his porch so he was facing slightly away from your house. He would enjoy himself no matter what.

Bradley lit the candles inside his pumpkins and dropped down into the chair with a bowl of candy as the afternoon sky turned dusky. It didn't take long until a toddler dressed as a witch made an appearance with her dad, and Bradley had a good laugh when she reached for three pieces of candy.

"Trick or treat!" shouted three kids dressed as the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

"Where's Raphael?" he asked as they collected their candy. 

Leonardo laughed and said, "Nobody wants to be Raphael. He's the lamest one."

"I would have to agree," Bradley replied, about to help himself to a piece of candy as they started to run to the next house.

But then he saw you. And you weren't alone. You were dressed as a soccer player, complete with knee socks and a soccer ball, and you were accompanied by an approximately ten year old kid who looked a lot like you. He was also dressed as a soccer player, and he smiled at Bradley as he said, "Trick or treat."

Bradley stood up, still holding onto the bowl of candy so the child could make his selection while he got a better look at you. "Hey."

"Hi," you replied immediately, looking from his mustache to the whistle around his neck and back up to his visor. "Are you seriously dressed as Ted Lasso?"

"I always dress as Ted Lasso," he told you, and he was rewarded with a smile that made him want to follow you around the neighborhood like a lost puppy. 

"Of course you do," you said, letting your gaze drift toward the child who was currently looking closely at the soccer ball pumpkins while holding onto a Snickers bar. "Somehow you match with us."

The boy looked up at Bradley and asked, "Did you carve these yourself? They look pretty good."

"Yeah," he replied, wishing he actually had taken the time to drop a pumpkin or two off on your porch. "I have perfected the soccer ball technique, kiddo."

The kid nodded but said, "You need to call it a football."

Bradley found himself agreeing. "You're completely right. It's only proper."

When the kid turned back to explore the rest of the pumpkin display a little more, Bradley took a step closer to you. "I didn't know you had a son," he said softly.

Your eyes were alert, scrutinizing his expression as you said, "His name is Max. He's almost ten."

"He looks like you."

You went silent for a few seconds, fiddling with the soccer ball in your hands. When you finally spoke, you were looking at Bradley's feet. "I knew you didn't know about him. I mean, you did ask me out after all." You laughed even though nothing was funny and finally looked up at his face. Then Max started to walk back the way you and he came, and you followed him. 

Bradley called your name. When you turned back, he said, "To be clear, I would have still asked you out if I'd known."

And then you looked so sad again.

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

To Bradley's amazement, the weather finally cooled to the perfect temperature in November, but he found he didn't want to be outside as much. It was a shame, because if he stood in the middle of his yard and closed his eyes, he could almost imagine he was in Virginia. 

One Friday after work, he cleaned the slightly rotten pumpkins from his porch and dragged his trash bin to the curb. Your front door was open, and he paused to see if you or Max happened to walk past it before heading back inside his empty house.

There was another potluck tonight, but he just didn't even feel like going. He had the usual chips and salsa on his kitchen counter, but he had no desire to socialize with the neighbors. He was about to change into gym shorts and surrender to a cold beer and a basketball game on TV when there was a knock on his door.

When he glanced through the front window, he saw that it was you, and his heart seemed to drag him toward the door. He was turning the knob before he thought better of it, and he was met with your wide eyes and a crock pot in your hands.

"Hi. Bradley."

"Hey." He swallowed hard before he said your name, and your lips turned up into a soft smile. "Is that for the potluck?"

"Yeah," you said, reaching out to hand the crock pot to him. "Well, I actually made it for you to take. Max and I will be bringing lasagna again."

Whatever Bradley was holding smelled so good, his stomach started to growl. "I can't take this. Nobody will believe I made it," he murmured, nudging at the lid with his thumb.

"It's a spicy buffalo dip," you replied, smile growing. "I literally made it with chicken from a can. I'm pretty sure you could trick them into thinking it came from your kitchen. You can even take your tortilla chips, too."

His fingers tightened on the handles when you took a small step closer to him. This was agony, being so close to you when he really wanted to touch you, but knew he couldn't. He whispered your name at the same time you looked up at him and started talking. 

"Max isn't my son. He's my nephew. But I'm his legal guardian now." Bradley's lips parted, but you shook your head and quickly added. "The night of the last potluck, I got a phone call that my brother and his wife were in a car accident. They both died before they reached the hospital. I had to pick Max up from soccer practice that night, and he's been with me ever since."

Tears were welling up in your eyes as Bradley tried to shuffle your crock pot to one hand. He knew how badly this kind of thing hurt from his own childhood. "Shit. I'm really sorry the two of you are going through this. But Max is lucky he has you." When you nodded and shrugged, you looked resigned to the way things were. "I'm also pretty sure Max prefers it when you call it football. Not soccer."

You laughed, maybe in spite of yourself, but Bradley still loved how it sounded. You briefly glanced over your shoulder toward your house and swiped at your tears as you said, "He absolutely does. He also keeps asking me about Ted Lasso across the street and his football pumpkins. I told him you're nice."

Bradley's heart had him dragging his feet closer to you, holding onto the warm pot of buffalo chicken dip for dear life. "Is that so?"

You nodded and stared at Bradley's chest for a few seconds before meeting his eyes again. Your lips parted several times before you whispered his name, and he leaned in a bit closer. After a few seconds, he started to step back, but your hand settled lightly on his shoulder, stopping him. Before he could react, you closed the remaining space, pressing your lips to his in a tentative kiss.

It was over almost as quickly as it started, and Bradley was ready to drop to his knees and beg you for more. But you were rambling now, and he was trying his best to focus. "I wanted you to ask me out so badly. But then everything changed, and I had to tell you no. Max has a lot he still needs to process, and I don't really have time to date someone who just wants to mess around with me."

For the first time in many weeks, Bradley felt lighter than air. He reached out with his free hand and let his knuckles trail gently along your cheek and down to your softly parted lips. "I'm forty years old. I'm kind of over the messing around stage," he promised. And then you were kissing him again.

The three of you walked to Mrs. Diaz's house together that evening. Bradley carried the crock pot, you carried the lasagna, and Max carried the tortilla chips. The conversation was mainly focused on how badly Max wanted to learn how to carve a football pumpkin.

Almost a year later, Bradley was standing in his front yard, smiling at the SOLD sticker placed on a realty sign in front of your house. It made sense to have you and Max move into the white cottage with him, because the porch was bigger. It was the perfect size for an elaborate Halloween display.

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

Thanks for reading this angsty yet fuzzy little fic. I hope your Halloween is sweeter than Bradley Bradshaw. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls and @thedroneranger

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[birdyshewrote]

“Birthday Girl”

Wolverine x Female!Reader

written by birdy

Wade Wilson throws you a rink-a-dink birthday party every year, and this year is no exception. But this time, you have a new guest.. and he’s been watching you for a while.

Notes- hi. ive never written a fic before EVER, so pls be nice. this is mainly for me to be able to get my thoughts out of my head because I’ve been thinking about this man for way too long. happy birthday bitches 🫶

WARNINGS/TAGS: smut- 18+ Logan Howlett x Female!Reader, Logan calls reader “Kid”, light smoking and alcohol consumption, Wade being a menace

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You had caught glances of him a few times in the hall. The scent of smoke, leather and alcohol that belonged to only him drifted in the air behind him for a few seconds even after he had walked into the apartment room across from yours. There had been a few times where you stepped into the elevator and musky cigar smoke had filled the small space. You didn’t complain though, secretly savoring the intoxicating smell, taking more, quicker breaths than you needed too. You couldn’t deny the knot it put in your stomach and the weakness it put in your legs before stepping out of the elevator, down the hall and into your own room.

Eventually, you were tired of the mystery. Two weeks into the seemingly one sided tension, you trapped your long time friend and even longer time across-the-hall neighbor, Wade Wilson, into the elevator with you. Ever since the stranger had moved in with Wade, he had stopped inviting you over. Your birthday was coming up, and so was your annual not-so-surprised birthday party. Once the elevator doors closed, you started,

“Hey, who’s your new roomie?”

Wade scoffed, putting a hand across his heart on his chest, the other gripping a full black trash bag that smelt of blood and for some reason bubblegum scented air fresheners. “THATS how I am greeted nowadays? No, ‘Hello Wade’, ‘Looking good Wade’, ‘Here’s that five bucks I owe you Wade,’

You roll your eyes, putting a hand on your hip stepping away from him. “Okay, first of all, I do not owe you five bucks. You OFFERED to pay for the funeral arrangements after you killed my fish-“

“He looked hungry, who knew fish could be over fed?” He interrupted.

“I told you before I left!” You argue back. “I was only gone two days and you-“ You rub your forehead and shake your head, frustrated. “Whatever. Not relevant. Hello Wade, you do look good.” You say, defeated.

Wade giggly adjusted his weight to his heels, to his tippy-toes, then back to his heels again “Thank you.” He said, satisfied, and turned back to the doors.

“You didn’t answer my question. Your roommate? Who is he?” You ask again as the elevator dings and the doors creakily open.

He raised an eyebrow, looking at you sideways as the two of you walked down the small lobby. “Uhm, news flash doll face, Blind Al is not new. She’s an OG. Been here a while, silly.”

“Not Al.” Talking to Wade was like trying to a horse with dementia. “You know, ‘Mr Tall and Handsome,’ always sulking, ‘I don’t care about no smoking rules.”

Wade throws his head back, “Ooohhhh, you mean Peanut. What about him?”

“No introduction?” You ask confused, watching Wade as he carried his trash down the hall, holding the entrance door open for you.

“Well, I don’t know. I guess Iuh… I forgot.” He stuttered as he led you down the wet alleyway, towards the dumpsters.

“Last month you called me into your room to show me your new toothbrush. You have a new roommate and you just, ‘forget’ to introduce us?”

Wade shrugs, shifting the thin, plastic bag straps in his hand uncomfortably as he walked.

The truth was, Wade did not forget. The truth was, in fact, that one of the first things Wade had done was mention your existence to Logan before he was even fully settled in the apartment.

“I think you two would hit it off, hardcore. And I mean, HARD.” Wade had said.

“Absolutely not.” Logan grumbled, immediately shutting him down, not even looking up from the blow-up mattress he was unrolling in the living room.

Wade sat on the couch arm rest, looking down at the burly man. “Come on Wolvie, let a girl heal your cold, withered heart. You’re a tough, ‘don’t get too close’ typa guy, she’s an ‘I can fix him’ type of girl, I personally think it’s a perfect match.”

“Shut the fuck up. I’m telling you to drop it.” He snapped, glaring up at Wade. “I don’t need you playing Cupid here, you hear me? I swear to God, if I hear you that you’ve even said my name to anyone I’ll get the fuck out of here and never look back. I don’t need to be getting mixed up in any of that shit right now.”

Maybe years ago Logan would have been a flirt, he wasn’t new to women or relationships, but he had been through too much. He had lost too much. He’d never admit it, but the truth was, the infamous Wolverine was scared. Scared of intimacy, scared of getting attached, scared of loss, scared of you. Still, this didn’t change the fact that he had been secretly watching you leave your apartment through the safety of the peephole of his own door. And yeah, maybe if you weren’t so loud coming out of your apartment he wouldn’t know your schedule within a week. Like what time you wake up to leave for work or school, or what time you come home. What days you take your trash out or do your laundry. And when he found one of your sweaters lying around the apartment when he first moved in, what should he have done with it? He was holding onto it for safe keeping. And yeah, he knew it was yours, but only because your sugary perfume clouded his nostrils and made his head feel fuzzy. It was so recognizable, he knew immediately the sweater was yours. Maybe if you wouldn’t drown yourself in the body mist he wouldn’t instinctively know when you were just in the hall, he told himself. It wasn’t his fault he had animalistic smelling.

He couldn’t, however, find an excuse for how he’d hesitate in front of his door, watching for the elevator to stop at your shared floor, wait for the doors to open and inhale the scent of your panties from down the hall once you saw him, then he’d unlock his door and rush in quickly. Sometimes if he was unlucky he’d steal a glance of your full body out of the corner of his eye.

None of this meant anything though. He could contain the animalistic urges he had towards you. Especially when he caught a glimpse of your thigh when you knelt to pick up a dropped grocery. He could handle himself when he heard your thick, sweet laugh through walls when watching a show or movie. But at the same time, what harm would it cause if he touched himself while inhaling the scent of your hair, sweat and perfume through your abandoned sweater late at night? And keeping it locked away in a locked dresser wasn’t creepy, it was just there until you asked Wade to look around for it.

He could handle himself from a distance. He knew this. He knew his limits.

He had been woken up from the couch after a long afternoon of drinking and despair by a loud “SURPRISE!” followed by laughter and clapping. He did not know there was a party going on, let alone a party for you. He was completely blindsided when you were standing within ten feet of him, in his living area, talking to Al and Wade and the others, laughing that sweet laugh

Shit..

Where could he escape? The front door was no longer an option, everyone was clustered in front. Maybe he could make a run for it through the bedroom and out the window? Or maybe take his chances down the escape ladder through the-

“Sleeping beauty has awaken!”

Shit.

Before you could blink, Wade was pulling you through the small cluster of friends to the couch, where a very confused, very hung over, very huge piece of man stood like a deer in headlights. This was your first time seeing him up close, and shit was he alluring. His hair was untamed and messy from his interrupted sleep, his thick brows furrowed. Frown lines prominent as his large muscles twitched under his shirt-

“Hey, his eyes are up there you horn dog.” Wade publicly snapped you back into reality. Immediately flustered, you began trying to save the situation that was doomed from the start.

“I wasn’t looking at- I wasn’t even doing anything, Wade!”

“It’s okay, I know you weren’t. He’s just a moron.” He put an understanding hand up as he spoke. Fuck his voice was so deep and low, almost a growl. It felt rich and threw shivers straight to the back of your throat and straight into the dark jeans you wore. You swallowed. Hard.

After an awkward greeting, Wade had basically pushed a drink into both of your hands and left you to fend for yourself. Logan took a seat on the couch, the worn furniture dipping under his weight. He was clearly uncomfortable. He kept his eyes low, rarely meeting yours. He threw his arm over the head of the couch, spreading his knees. He pulled out a cigar and gestured to it. You couldn’t tell if he was offering you one or asking if you’d mind if he smoked, you shook your head no to both. You politely sat next to him, pulling your legs under yourself next to him.

Unfortunately, this man was not the easiest to speak to.

“So, Logan. You’re new.” You fidget with the cup in your hands.

He lets out a low “Mhm” while taking a puff, then lets smoke pool out of his mouth and drizzle out of his nose, before speaking again. “Yeah. Don’t really know how I ended up here. Just, kind of did.”

You nod, looking around the room. 2016-2018 pop hits played on the pink Hello-Kitty speaker Wade had bought for himself, now sitting on the kitchen table next to the drinks. Various characters lounged around the apartment chatting and eating pizza and drinking.

“Seen you around, y’know.”

You turn to face him again.

“Oh?” You ask, sipping your drink.

He nods in return. “If you need help bringing groceries up to your room or somethin’, you can just let me know. Heard you drop a few things before.” His top lip twitches just the slightest in what you assume is his version of a smile. He puts the cigar back into his mouth and chews.

You furrow your brows at the sarcastic banter. “Oh yeah? Didn’t know I had a stalker.” You bite back, smiling while doing so.

“Not stalking you, kid. Just minding my own business and getting interrupted every two seconds by my noisy neighbor.”

After this, the two of you spoke more fluid. Relating in Wade’s schemes and circumstances became a common interest. You felt yourself becoming more and more comfortable with the man’s presence. After your second drink, your leg rested against the rough denim of his thick thigh. He said nothing about it, so you continued to speak to him. You were unaware of what he was thinking or feeling.

He was freaking the fuck out. Especially when you asked him to go outside with him to get some air. He agreed, and the two of you slipped out of your own party. The night was dark as you walked through the city-lit pathway to the side of the building. Logan watches you and takes another puff of his cigar as you stretch in the open air. You sigh, relieved to be out of the stuffy room.

You could feel his eyes on you. The heat and heaviness of his lingering eyesight, watching your every move as if you were his prey. It made you nervous. It made you intrigued. You wanted to be in his sight, and he wanted to keep watching you.

“You shouldn’t smoke so much, shit’s awful for you you know.” You say, leaning on the brick building next to the tall, muscular figure.

He gives you a slow, sharp smirk in return, his canines showing through resting on the cigar.

Your heart begins to thump and he looks deep into your eyes, like he sees through you.

You let out a shaky exhale as your smile fades and take a step closer to him. He takes the cigar out of his mouth and looks down at you, shaking his head.

“You don’t want this, kid.”

You pause, trying to read his face in the dim lighting. “I do, and I think you do too.” You speak low and soft, like if you’re too sudden with your movements he’ll get startled and dash away. You slowly raise a hand and rest it on his hard, warm chest. You feel it rise and lower, he’s heaving now.

You bring your face up, closer to his. He doesn’t move, so you whisper into his own lips, “Logan, it’s okay.”

The light encouragement is what he needed. He looks down at your parted lips, pushes the lit cigar into the brick wall next to you, putting it out and dropping it, before muttering back,

“Well, you are the birthday girl.”

He leans down to give you what you’ve been asking him for, and what he’s been yearning for. He kisses you, slow and respectful at first, stepping in front of you. He puts his large, rough hand in between your head and the jagged building, protecting you as he pushes you against the wall. You bring a soft hand around the back of his neck, pulling him down farther into your space. He tastes like alcohol and smoke, and you couldn’t get enough. The kiss gets sloppier as you welcome his tongue into your mouth. You look at his face through squinted eyes, only to see his brows furrowed in deep concentration and self-discipline as to not overstep. You shut your eyes again as you grab his other hand, dragging it to your waist. He lets out a soft, low groan in response to the contact of your skin. Your waist feels so soft and warm is his heavy grip. He softly paws at your side, then up your loose shirt. He pauses underneath your bra, and you arch your back in response.

He breaks away, a trail of saliva connecting the two of you momentarily before breaking. “This okay? You’re sure? I can touch you like this?” He’s almost pleading, even with all of the consent in your body. He looks down at you, eyes half lidded.

“Yes, Logan. Stop asking me.”

He nods, smiling slightly, and slowly shifts his long, thick fingers underneath the garment, and towards your chest. He brings his mouth to yours again, greedily taking and lapping at your mouth. The scent of your arousal intoxicates to him. You clench your legs together, to which Logan uses his thick, sturdy knee to break you open and apart. You feel exposed to him now, resting on his knee. The rough denim rubbing sends jolts to your throbbing core. The kissing is wet, his stubble rubs against your lips as he gently bites your tongue with his canines. His hand gently gropes your breast, while pushing his knee against your dampening soft area. He brings his calloused hand down back to your waist, slowly guiding your hips to rock against his knee. He uses his other hand against your head to gently grip your hair and push your head closer against his mouth.

Logan didn’t get you a birthday present, but he was definitely making up for it.

[snzunii]

( read part one here )

it wasn't unusual for your friends that you and satoru don't get along that well. it’s obvious, you make snarky comments about his triumph of the week every now and then but it was unusual for them when satoru wasn't bragging about some girl anymore.

and you weren't even making side comments about how he doesn't have any new “girl” for the week now. at first, it was suguru who noticed it. 

but then come shoko, then of course, utahime. how can they not notice when your petty bickering is part of the group gatherings? how can they not notice when you weren't rolling your eyes anymore everytime that satoru’s opening his mouth?

“what the hell is wrong with the two of you? did you fight?” it was suguru who broke the ice.

can you blame them? they can't take this weird shit that’s happening, whatever it is. 

“huh?” you looked up from your phone, “fight? who?”

“don't play dumb.” shoko says, “you and satoru. did you two fight?”

huh, fight. more like, did you two have sex a week ago and it has been awkward ever since? yeah, more like that. you glance at satoru and he looks at you knowingly, just waiting for whatever you're going to say.

you chuckled awkwardly, “we didn't. i just don't like talking to him, you know.”

and before they could probe even further, you stood up. “i’m heading to the store, do you guys want anything?”

they just raised their brows at you and when they all looked at satoru, he just shrugged his shoulders. 

“nothing? okay.” 

“i’m coming with you.”

and that made them more confused because why the hell would satoru go with you, just the two of you, alone? but they just shrugged it off, and you two walked out of suguru’s condo unit. 

you don't even know why he would go with you. it’s true that you haven't talked since, but you figure that there’s nothing to talk about because it’s never going to happen again. it’s just a one time thing.

“huh.” you heard him say. you stopped walking and glanced back at him.

“what?”

“you don't like talking to me, but you just like sticking your tongue down my throat?”

you cannot believe this. 

you wanna smack that grin right off his face.

“you’re so fucking annoying!” you marched towards the elevator as fast as you could but somehow he just caught up on you.

“hey. i’m sorry, okay. i’ll stop.” he said and reached for your arm, “YN.”

“what? what the fuck do you want?”

“i just want to talk.” you scoff, the elevator opens and you walk in. “can we please just talk?”

“then talk.” you crossed your arm, still avoiding his gaze. you don't know what you're feeling and you don't know how to react, maybe that’s why you’re acting out right now.

it wasn't supposed to be this way, you were supposed to be just friends.

he was supposed to be just your friend who annoys you every now and then with his antics. “how can we talk if you’re not looking at me?”

“just talk—”

he pressed the emergency stop button and now, great, you’re stuck with him. “what’d you do that for?”

“i just want to make sure you’re okay with what happened. and i’m sorry if that made you feel uncomfortable in any way—”

“stop.” you looked at him, “i’m okay. and i think we both wanted that to happen, you don't need to say sorry. i just want to go back to the way it was, okay? it’s not going to happen again, so…”

“okay.” he simply answered, he pressed the button again and just backed up. the silence envelopes the two of you as you wait for the elevator to reach the ground floor. 

you sighed a relief when you heard the ding! but before it opens, satoru says something before walking past you.

“except, i don't want things to go back the way it was.”

now, why the hell would he say that?

[eph3merall]

the atmosphere seemed suffocating, already starting to sweat as you stalk inside the house trailing behind chris. you reminded him of a puppy right now, all nervous glances and tripping steps as you try to stay close. his eyes scope out a few of his friends and he daps them up quickly, only to jerk his chin at matt in greeting across the room.

when you let your gaze leave chris for a few seconds and he's quickly pushing past sweaty bodies in the crowd, you feel your heart drop before quickly hurrying behind him. a few awkward stares were pointed your way already since you walked in with chris—especially from girls. pretty girls.

you spy him greeting his brother as you scurry towards him—standing awkwardly as chris settles himself into the worn, old couch. you don't necessarily trust the couch, having seen the things that happen on it..

matt is taking a sip from his beer and gazing at you warmly, offering you a 'hey' as you smile at him. matt's always been really nice—he's another one of your good friends obviously, being brothers with chris. speaking of, he's tugging you down into his lap and you settle back into a familiar warmth.

"we're sellin' t'some girls, right? 'cus y'said you had some guys who wanted to buy from you too," you're suddenly engrossed in some random shit when chris starts talking to his brother, his hands resting firmly on your hips—only to shift them so they're looped gently around to pull you back some more. you hear bits and pieces of their conversation, but then again, it isn't anything you're interested in.

you're lost in your own head, or maybe you're zoned out. chris isn't exactly sure when he sees you just staring into nothing. one of his hands subconsciously rub at your side through the top you have on, head turned to the side to speak to matt. in the crowd of the party he can see nate playing beer pong with some girl hanging off his shoulder, a red solo cup in his hand.

a few minutes go by and chris is whispering your name directly into your ear, watching as you blink rapidly and turn your head back to glance at him like a deer in headlights. he hates how cute you look, despises the way a fuzzy feeling crawls into his chest just at the mere look of you. his lips part with no words coming out of them before he clears his throat and starts ushering you to get up off him.

"gotta go somewhere for a second, but matt's gonna be here, 'kay? stay here w'him," before the words even register in your head, chris is shoving away through the crowd. you blink at his retreating figure, feeling a hand pat you on your lower back a few times. matt is jerking his head to the side gently—silently ordering you to sit down and just relax a little.

flashy, colorful lights reflect off the rings adorning matt's fingers. he's sipping from a can of beer and scrolling on his phone, occasionally glancing at you just to make sure you're okay. it's really just confusion, is all, because chris just up and left so quickly for what? you sink further into the worn out couch, the loud music and pungent odor of alcohol and drugs making your nose scrunch.

you feel a hand nudge your side, turning your head to see matt glancing at you. his eyebrows raise, as if asking you if you were alright—knowing you wouldn't be able to hear him now with the amount of hoots and hollers that abruptly started. a nod of your head has matt rolling his tongue over his teeth before getting up and mouthing the words 'stay here' to you.

you would've protested, because you didn't really feel like staying here all alone without anyone you know. peering eyes dart all over, unfamiliar faces sparing a single glance at you and then focusing back on whatever they were doing. your lips purse as you sink further into the couch, uncomfortable and anxious with how loud the music suddenly is and how the atmosphere seems so heavy.

it feels like an eternity before matt is finally back, blinking when he hands you a plastic water bottle. he settles into the couch beside you again, sighing and taking his phone out to scroll on. the plastic crinkles under your hand as the cap unscrews—taking a big drink of the cold liquid.

you dont know how long its been. youve texted chris a few times, too scared to get up and search for him. all of the texts are marked 'delivered', and a quick glance to your phone screen tells you it's around 1 am. where is he? chris said he would drive you back home. your thoughts consume you, knee bouncing up and down as you start picking at your cuticles, chewing on your lower lip. matt spares you a glance with raised eyebrows, and a second later his hand is on your knee. "stop that," his voice is barely loud enough for you to hear in the cramped environment.

you spare matt a frown a few minutes later, glancing around only to see chris devouring a girls face off while shoving her upstairs. his hands are all over her, and vice versa, and you can only stare until the two are out of sight. huh? confusion runs a track through your mind. he said he would drive you back home tonight. and he promised.

matt is reassuring you when you explain to him what you saw, his lips tugging into a frown. "nah.. kid's fuckin' stupid. y'know this. sorry, though.. he's probably high as shit too," his words don't exactly help, but you end up giggling at some things the brunette says.

you aren't even sure why you feel so upset. it's not like you're stuck here, because matt can just drive you back to your place. maybe you don't realize the wave of jealousy that washes over you in waves, making you feel all disoriented and confused. perhaps you didn't realize the desire you felt to be in that girls place. maybe you wanted to feel important enough to him that he wouldn't forget you so easily.

"s'just.. annoying. chris always does this, y'know that, right kid? doesn't ever really stick to his word," matt grumbles and you just shrug.

"yeah. i guess so," and yeah, it's true. chris doesn't ever really stick to his promises.

—

@conspiracy-ash @sturniolosfavkayleigh @lvrsturniolo @st7rnioioss @meatballlover10 @ashlishes @ferdzom @55sturn @chriseatingmeoutin4k @unknvhx

©eph3merall 2024

[lumarhorrors]

Idk if u can do this request so if u don't like it ignore it lmao, how abt a Top prince x Bottom Male reader servant, since the prince is well, the prince, he can do anything so he orders his servant (reader) to have sex with him, with spanking and breeding kink from the prince and dub con (if u feel uncomfortable don't do it)

Of course, I'll make this request! Everything is in my I will write section ^^ also this is my first time writing none Vanilla NSFW so sorry if its sucks.

CW: dun-con, breeding kink, spanking, power play, slightly semi-public I guess? Raw sex.

You were just a lowly servant working for the King and queen as their son's personal servant. Whatever he wanted you did.

To you, the prince was a brat, extremely spoiled and a bit of a perv. You always caught him staring at you, whether it's at your ass or lower regions but it always makes you slightly uncomfortable. To you, you were there to do a job and be paid so you could finally be free. You wrote all thus in your diary and well....the prince found it and was not happy his eye candy was planning on ditching him. So As you made your way back to your sleeping quarters for the night and hand grabbed you pulling you into a semi private hallway.

When you turn to look glaring at you is the prince. And he was angry. "So When were you going to tell me you were leaving!" He yelled at you. "I-I..." you stuttered not ever seeing him this angry before. "as punishment for your little plan you'll have sex with me," he smirked as he knew you would listen to whatever he said. He pushed you down onto your knees and your face pressed into his clothed bludge. Your face goes red and your eyes widen...he's definitely big. "I...yes...your Highness" he whispered as you unzipped his pants and pulled them down leaving him I'm his boxers.

He threads his hands through your hair as you kiss along his clothed cock. You kiss up to the tip before pulling them down, his cock smacked against his shirt. You shakily placed your hands on his hard length and take it in your mouth. "Fuck!" He groaned as he placed one hand on your hair and the other bracing the wall behind you. The Prince grabs your hair tightly and fucked into your mouth using you as he pleased. "Mmm~" you moaned as his Cock hit the back of your throat. You gagged as he thrusted with no remorse tears pricked your eyes. "aww is the little maid boy crying?" he taunted. "Too much for you? Well take it" he glared forcing himself down you as he painted your tongue and throat white

the prince had you pressed against the wall your legs around his waist and his cock buried deep in your tight hole. "hah...please no...hah...more" you begged and whined. he continued to thrust in and out ignoring your pleas for him to slow down, his cum dripped down your thighs onto the clean carpets of the hallway. you tried to keep quiet as to not wake anyone in the palace and get caught, you let put a yelp followed by a moan as he spanked your ass. "I want to hear those pretty noises my little maid" he said coldly. "ah...okay..." you moan as he painted your walls white for the second time. a while later you had moved to his room. the door locked and your faced pressed into a pillow your hips lifted onto your knees back arched as he slammed roughly into your used and abused hole. "t-too...much~" you whimper as you cum for the third time painting the sheets and making a white sticky puddle of cum.

you knew the price was a fuckboy and a perv but you never expected him to breed you like a bunny in heat. you felt a hard slap on your ass as he spanked you again. he leaned down and sucked and bite your neck marking you as his. "you're mine little maid...you're not leaving ever~" he marks your neck with many hickeys. "fuckk baby...so tight for your prince~. gonna breed you all night~." he moaned in your ear. you were exhausted and tried to wriggle free from his grasp only to be flipped and sat in his lap cock still buried deep inside you. "plea- no....mOrE~" you whimpered as he roughly bounced you up and down occasionally smacking your ass till it was read, you felt yourself tighten around his large length signalling your fourth release of the night. he continues to abuse your poor hole even after you released your fluids over your chest and stomach "ughh one more love~" he said releasing his load into you.

after you both finished he kicked you out of his room naked and used. you sat on the floor in front of his closed with only a bed sheet he threw at you. you felt broken and hollow...the prince used you for himself only. you shamefully walked to your quarters and put on your clothes and packed your things and snuck out the palace. you left on your horse to the neighbouring kingdom. when the prince realised you'd left he was furious, but his parents just replaced you and his new maid boy was more than willing to be a toy for the prince so you were soon forgotten and lived your life in peace as the neighbouring kingdom's prince's maid.

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masterlist

[planetpedri]

hey girly please can you do one with marc bernal where he’s super clingy after his injury and he just wants to be babied, tysm xxx

Generous heart — Marc bernal.

Pairing: Marc Bernal x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend had never been a clingy person, but it seems this injury had changed him more than you thought.

Word count: 560+

Disclaimer/s: Acl injury, pain, light angst to comfort. mostly fluff though !

A/N: When do the injuries end UGHHH. Come back soon diva

Marc’s parents had been allowing you to stay over for the night more and more. Ever since his injury, they had claimed he’d been more down than usual, but whenever you came around, suddenly his spirits were lifted and he felt.. well, the closest thing to normal someone could with the injuries he’d sustained.

While sitting up in his bed, Marc uncomfortably moved around. At some points he’d wince in pain, trying to disguise his discomfort by looking to the side. Each time you’d remind him that he needed to verbally tell you if something was hurting, rather than pretending it wasn’t there.

So, you’d convinced him to just lay down, which he did, but not without pulling you down with him. A soft laugh escaped your lips as he tugged on your arm.

“Lay down with me.” He huffs, looking up at you with a forced scowl.

“Chillax, i’m going to!” You grin, slowly inching yourself from a sitting position down to a lying one. The second you were flat against his bed, he pulled you closer, using his right arm to slip under your head.

Once he was satisfied with the position, your head resting on his shoulder, he bent his head down to place a kiss to the top of your head.

You smile at the gesture before unlocking your phone and opening TikTok, scrolling mindlessly through the videos as Marc watched with you.

Thats how most of your days and nights spent together went. He would have you cuddle with him and watch whatever you had on your phone. In fact, he’d prefer you nearly laying on top of him on your phone, than you giving him space and sitting beside him.

Marc was never this.. cuddly before. You weren’t complaining, though. Just to make that clear. You loved it, in fact. But, it was new, and each time you couldn’t help but smile the whole time. You liked this part of him, the one you hadn’t seen much until recently.

“Wait!” He suddenly says, making your eyes widen and shoot up to him, “I wasn’t done with that video, scroll up.”

Letting out a long breath, you huff. “Holy shit, you scared me!”

A guilty look passes across his face, “sorry..” He says sheepishly, “just scroll up, please?”

Nodding, you scroll back to the last video. “Let me know when I can continue.” You chuckle.

“Will do.” He hums, “hey, wait.”

Groaning, you pause the video. “Yes?” You meet his gaze once again and you’re met with a smug smirk. Great.

“A kiss would do.”

Oh this little…

Rolling your eyes, you tilt your head back to grant him access to your lips. He takes the chance, using his free hand to place his thumb and index finger on your chin, tilting your head up a little further. You don’t think you’d ever get used to his kisses, they were always so gentle and meaningful and perfect…

Sighing into the kiss, your eyes flutter shut. “Anything else you need? You big baby.” You murmur against his lips, feeling the smile that forms on his.

“I am a little hungry..” He pulls away, cocking his head to the side. “Takeout?”

“Or we could get off our asses and go make some real food.” You suggest, but exit TikTok to open google. “What do you want?”

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in any future marc related posts.

DTS , @halfwayhearted @spidybaby !

[solxamber]

First, I would like to say I love your writing! Especially your Trash Villain Chronicles. Thanks to your first one I've been on a Vil kick. I double-checked the rules before typing so hopeful I'm following them. Okay, here goes:

Vil with a partner who's a bit on the heavier side and insecure about it, especially compared to her model boyfriend. Vil finds out about it and quickly reassures her that she is perfect the way she is, and if she's still insecure, he'll help her with whatever she wants to do. Whether it's losing weight or changing her style, anything to make her feel good about herself. Just Vil helping his love feel as beautiful as he thinks she is

I personally see this with a female reader (Hence why I used she/her) but if you do decide you wanna take a crack at this and use a GN reader, then by all means. If you don't wanna do this request, then feel free to ignore it. Just wanted to try. I hope you have a nice day!

Just the Way You Are || Vil Schoenheit

Vil shows you that you’re perfect as you are, helping you embrace your beauty inside and out.

first of all: thank you so much <3. and thank you for waiting! i made it gn to be more inclusive, and i hope this is what you wanted!

Vil has always found a certain allure in the way you carry yourself—something genuine and warm that shines in a way he rarely sees. But over time, he's noticed the small, telling moments of hesitation.

The way you shy away from reflective surfaces, your reluctance to stand too close to him in photos, the subtle way you pull at your clothes.

He understands insecurity well, but it pains him to see that you’re judging yourself so harshly, especially when he thinks you're so beautiful just as you are.

One day, while sharing lunch, he notices you pushing food around your plate rather than eating. He sets his fork down and gives you a look, his eyes gentle yet discerning. "Darling, are you really going to keep that on the edge of your plate?"

You give a half-hearted smile. "I…just don't want to overdo it," you say, hoping that sounds convincing.

Vil nods thoughtfully, already understanding. He reaches out, covering your hand with his. "If you're feeling uncomfortable about what you eat, would you let me help? Not because I think you need to change, but because I want you to feel at home in your own skin."

You agree, albeit a bit hesitantly, and he instantly takes charge in the way that only Vil can. Crowley’s meager budget often mean you have to settle for low-cost, processed foods, and Vil isn’t about to let that slide.

Over the next week, he starts bringing meals prepared just for you, full of fresh ingredients he’s carefully chosen and even sourced himself.

One afternoon, he surprises you with a gorgeous spread for lunch. It’s a rainbow of fruits, vegetables, whole grains, and lean proteins, arranged as beautifully as any of his fashion editorials.

"Proper food is like proper skincare," he explains as he plates your meal with a flourish. "Only the best for you."

You find yourself looking forward to meals more than you ever thought you would. He teaches you little tricks, too—how to pick satisfying ingredients on a budget, small ways to prepare them to bring out their natural flavors.

Every meal feels like an act of love, a reminder that someone thinks you're worth the care you didn’t always give yourself.

After a couple of weeks, you feel the difference—not just in your energy but in your confidence. Vil notices this too, smiling proudly every time you finish your meals, delighted with the way you’re nourishing yourself.

He never pushes; he’s simply there to support you every step of the way, showing you that your health and happiness matter to him more than anything.

One evening, Vil finds you sighing at your reflection in the mirror, scrutinizing every detail of your outfit. You’re wearing a simple outfit, but you can't help but feel that it doesn't quite fit the way you’d like, especially next to someone as effortlessly poised as Vil.

Sensing your discomfort, Vil walks up beside you and slips an arm around your shoulders.

“You’re beautiful as you are,” he murmurs, resting his chin on your shoulder. “But if you don’t feel it, then let's change that. Why don’t we make a day of it and find you some outfits that help you feel as beautiful as you look to me?”

The next day, Vil takes you shopping, his eye for detail guiding every choice. He’s quick to dismiss outfits that don’t fit right, brushing off any hints of self-consciousness by focusing on each piece’s color, fabric, and shape as though they’re variables in an equation only he understands.

“Fit is everything,” he tells you, holding up a jacket. “It’s about finding clothes that celebrate who you are, not cover it up.”

His enthusiasm is contagious, and as you try on different outfits, you start to see yourself in a new light. Vil’s commentary—sometimes playful, sometimes serious—always steers you toward the right choices, outfits that make you feel vibrant and confident.

At one point, he finds a tailored coat with intricate details on the sleeves, something understated yet regal. “This,” he declares, draping it over your shoulders.

You glance at yourself, surprised at how the cut flatters you, and for the first time, you feel like your outside finally matches the confidence you’re building on the inside.

By the time you leave the store, you’re carrying a few new pieces that you actually feel excited to wear, and Vil’s heart swells every time he sees you trying them out.

His pride in you is palpable, his compliments genuine and warm. "It’s all about loving who you are,” he says, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “And it’s a privilege to see you start doing just that.”

One night, as the two of you sit together on the dorm balcony, Vil looks at you with such intensity that it catches you off guard. "I hope you’re beginning to see how wonderful you are," he says softly, his hand holding yours. "Not because of anything you’ve done to change, but because you’re worth it. You always were."

You smile, feeling a rush of warmth flood through you as you squeeze his hand back. And as you lean against him, content, you finally start to believe that, maybe, Vil is right.

Masterlist

[holidayinhell]

Interview

CWs: references to noncon, violence

1. Would you rather - Rope or Chains?

R: Rope.

W: Chains, dear god, chains any day. Ropes fucking burn.

2. If Whumpee had multiple Whumpers, who is their favourite? For Whumpers, which Whumpee was your favourite?

R: Yeah, I’ve got a favorite. A couple years back I had a Whumpee who fought me at every turn. He'd throw his food at me, cuss me out, and try to attack me. One time he scratched absolute shit outta my arms. Anyways, I got tired of his shitty attitude and decided to kill him. I didn't keep it a secret, I told him he was gonna die. But when I went in to do it, he changed completely. No more screaming, no spark in his eye. He got quiet. Heh, he got all lovey dovey with me even. You know, lots of people say they’ll do anything if only you’ll spare their life. I never did cash in on that promise, but on this Whumpee, I put it to the fucking test. Heh. He let me do whatever I wanted to him. Depraved, horrible things, that would make the most degenerate man blush. Heh, and even though he was crying through most of it, he still pretended to like everything I did to him. And god. You should’ve seen his eyes when I told him I was still gonna kill him. That look. I think about it still.

W: I can’t. glances over at Whumper. Next question please.

3: In your opinion, what is the best way to train a pet?

R: Humans are fickle fucking beasts. You have to break down someone’s pride in order to train them. I start off with food deprivation, that usually helps me gauge what kind of fight I’m in for.

W: Positive reinforcement has always worked for me… I’ve only ever had a pet bearded dragon though.

4: Broken ribs or bullet wound? 

R: Both.

W: These questions are uncomfortable to answer. But, uh, bullet wound I guess. Assuming it didn’t graze any organs.

5: Preferred type of gag? 

R: I like a fabric gag. Or a simple piece of duct tape. Sometimes they come off and I get to squeeze a little scream out of Whumpee, and then I put a fresh one right back on. I kinda like the cycle of it.

W: I don’t have a preference… none? I guess the metal bit one isn't the worst of them. It hurts my teeth but at least I can still kinda breathe.

6: Burned or stabbed?

R: Stabbed.

W: Stabbed, I guess?

7: Favourite stress position? 

R: An old-fashioned hogtie. I guess I’m unimaginative but I don’t get too crazy into the BDSM shit. Who has the patience for that?

W: Uhh.. just, handcuffs behind my back. Something relatively comfortable.

8: Have you given or received any Brands? What do they signify?

R: Heh. No. Never been branded. I certainly have had my fun branding Whumpee though.

W: I… have two… Uhm. One on my chest that, thank Christ, is almost all the way healed. It said, uh, swine. The other one is on my back, it’s a lot worse. I don’t know what it says but I can feel it so it’s um, it’s here to stay, I guess.

R: It says Nice Try. Remember?

W: Not really.

R: From your second half-hearted escape attempt. Didn't realize you forgot. But I did hit you pretty fucking hard that night.

9: Broken arm or broken leg? 

R: Leg.

W: Arm. A million times, arm.

10: How did you get here? Why are you the way that you are?

R: I live here. Far as I know, I’ve always been 'like this'-- whatever the hell that means. And I don’t see a problem with it. We’re all free to do as we like, so that’s what I fucking do.

W: I dunno. I, I was outside, it was dark and I think it was raining…yeah… heading home from the bar. I didn’t drink that much. I didn’t live that far, either, so the rain wasn’t a problem. I remember falling down and then… I woke up here. And I’ve been here ever since.

11: What is your biggest regret?

R: I wish this Whumpee could’ve learned a thing or two from my defiant Whumpee in the second question you asked. I wanna get my dick sucked like that every fucking night.

W: Regrets... yeah, I've got a few. One stands out. It was late at night, Whumper didn't tie me up. I snuck out of my cell and I made it to the steps. Almost to the top, nearly all the way out. The door was unlocked and cracked open a little, I thought I could make a run for it and—

R: —I was waiting for you at the top. Heh. I wanted to see if you'd run, and you sure tried to. Not so much after that, though.

12: Is there a line you won’t cross? For Whumpee, what do you most fear Whumper might do?

R: A line I wouldn’t cross? Uhhh…. No. No, I don’t think so. I’ll cross any fucking line. turns to Whumpee, grinning. So what are you afraid of, Whumpee?

W: I, um. Does he really have to be here when I answer these questions?

R: Tell them, Whumpee.

W: Can I whisper it to you? (he’s already done so much to me, so fucking much… it’s dumb but I don’t want him to shave my head.)

R: smirks. You know I heard that.

13: What lessons have you taken away from your experience?

R: Everything has been the same old, same old for me. Guess this Whumpee’s lasted longer than the rest of ‘em. He’s coming up on a year soon. Kind of impressive he’s stuck around this long and hasn’t given me a reason to kill him yet.

W: I don’t know. I do what I’m told so I can eat. I take it day by day. I guess the lesson I’ve learned is that abandoning pride is the only way to survive…

14: Whip or cane?

R: Whip.

W: Yeah. Whip.

R: Didn’t expect you to say that. Noted.

15: Drugged or coherent?

R: Depends on the situation. Drugging them is useful for transport but I don’t much like it when they’re too dazed to understand what’s happening. Sometimes they fall asleep, too.

W: Drug me any fucking day. I don’t care. I’ll take whatever you have.

16: What are your true, honest feelings about each other? Is there some part of you that cares for the other at all?

R: Sometimes I like to touch him. He’s warm and it’s funny when he tries to squirm away. Plus I like it when he begs me to stop. But do I care about him? …eh. Sure, sorta. He’s my plaything.

W: Erm. Thanks, I guess. For me… Whumper is the reason I’m here. I guess I’m appreciative for the food… but he does hurt me. A lot. Constantly.

R: You're very welcome.

17: What is your favourite thing about the other? A personality trait, a physical feature, anything

R: He’s got pretty hair. A kind of pretty face, too. Yeah, almost like a girl. Heh. And he makes good sounds when he’s screaming.

W: Ah. Fuck. I really don’t know how to answer this…

R: Come on. What’s your favorite part?

W: Um. Well, I'll say this: Whumper is smart. Scary smart. I don’t think anyone would ever imagine how smart. I don’t know. I don’t. It’s… terrifying.

18: Do you have relationships outside of each other? Friends, family - if yes, do they know about Whumpee? Do they care?

R: Yes, yes, and no.

W: I have a half sister in, uh, Arkansas. We’re not close, obviously… used to have friends I guess, but it’s been a long time since I saw them…

19: What other hobbies do/did you have?

R: Video games. 

W: I used to play saxophone. A lifetime ago.

20: For Whumper, is there any chance you’ll let Whumpee go? For Whumpee, have you ever thought about life after you’re free?

R: No. Sorry. Realistically, it doesn’t make sense to ‘let him go.’

W: I, uh, I used to think about it. I don't anymore… like he said.. realistically it doesn’t make any sense.

R: Mm. Good answer, Whumpee.

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

this interview uses the questions from Character Ask Game post by @inhurtandincomfort !! thanks homie!

((more Whump))

[cosmicalily]

"to be loved is to be remembered" - a mini series by @cosmicalily. view series masterlist, and outline here

2. semantic memory | yang jeongin x fem!reader

semantic memory: a type of explicit memory that is categorised as general knowledge and information accumulated throughout an individual’s life.

author's note: oh, i missed writing for jeongin!! i was going to revert to my typical best friends to lovers but i decided to change it up (barely) and do roommates instead last minute! thank you for all the love on my seungmin fic, i hope you enjoy this one too!

Yang Jeongin was a good roommate. 

He was reasonably quiet, but not uncomfortably so. He didn’t talk all the time, but he still joked around with you. He was clean and organised, but not meticulous or irritating about it. He did things without you asking; washed the dishes when you were staying up late to work on assignment, ordered you a Caesar salad and fries whenever he got takeout from his favourite Italian place, and always took whatever laundry you had with him when he went to wash his clothes. 

When you went grocery shopping, you knew his favourite beer and ramyeon, and would always buy them for him. When you watered your plants, you’d always water his too, the ones he kept along the windowsill of his bedroom and on the balcony. 

And apparently, when the air conditioning in his bedroom broke in the middle of summer, you’d let him temporarily move into your room. Or at least, that’s what you’d just told him.

“Really? Are you sure?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck. “You don’t have to. I’m sure I can find a fan or something.”

You nodded. “Yeah, I don’t mind. Honestly. I don’t do a lot of sleeping during the night anyway.”

“You’re always studying,” Jeongin rolled his eyes playfully.

“And you’re never studying, yet you somehow do so well in your classes. It pisses me off,” you groaned, giving him a light shove. “Anyway, you get the floor. Do you want some help migrating?”

The two of you dragged his mattress into your bedroom, out of breath and panting by the time it had been very unprettily dumped on your floor. He made the bed up with clean sheets, and offered to change yours as well. You thanked him, and told him you’d start making dinner.

When you’d finished, you called him, and he came out of your bedroom, shirt off, hair a little tousled. Your cheeks flushed pink and he raised an eyebrow at you in confusion.

“You look…nice,” you said awkwardly, handing him a beer.

“Thanks?” he chuckled, mouth full of rice.

You sighed dramatically. “Most boys would return the compliment,” you shook your head as you opened your bottle of peach soju. 

“You always look nice. I tell you that all the time,” Jeongin replied, fumbling with the remote. “What show?”

“Brooklyn 99. And I always think you’re being sarcastic.”

“We always watch fucking Brooklyn 99. And no, I’m not. I thought that was obvious.”

“Because it’s the best show! And it’s not that obvious, not to me!” You protested.

Jeongin put his beer down and turned to you. “I’m so confused, why are we having two conversations at once?”

“You were the one who asked me two things.”

Jeongin pressed play on the episode. “One of them was a statement, the other was a question. You do always look nice. I’m not being sarcastic, I’m not a dickhead.”

“Some would argue that,” you giggled, and he gave you a gentle shove.

“Some would argue you’re a bitch,” Jeongin sighed. “But I put up with you.”

“Because you think I’m pretty?” you teased. 

“Because of the rent,” he corrected. “How am I supposed to afford my own place in this economy? Although you’re a bonus, I suppose. Even if I have to watch Brooklyn 99 all the time and change your sheets.”

You kicked his shin. “You offered!” 

He grabbed your leg with his hand and shifted it back into place, leaving his hand resting on your thigh. “Shut up. I’m trying to watch.”

“I thought you hated-” you laughed.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Jeongin groaned, and he pinned you to the floor, tickling you until the two of you collapsed in a laughing heap, the show still running, dinner half eaten, drinks long forgotten.

The one thing you’d failed to mention to Jeongin was your habit of falling off the bed during the night. You were a professional tosser and turner, and that often ended up with you snapping out of your dreams face-down on the wooden floor, bruises littering your hips, knees and any other joint that was lucky enough to be the first to break your fall.

When you woke up, you were mortified to find yourself not on exposed hardwood, but on a mattress. With someone else, who was staring at you curiously.

“Fuck!” you groaned, shoving your face into the sheets. “I’m sorry. When did I end up here?”

Jeongin checked his phone. “Maybe 4 am? I don’t know, I didn’t notice until I rolled over and somebody’s face was in front of mine.”

“What’s the time now?”

“Just past 7.”

You rolled over and stared at the ceiling. “I should get up then.”

“Yeah, me too,” Jeongin agreed, but neither of you made any attempt to move.

You looked around your room, interested in your lower perspective. It still looked empty, too similar to when you’d first moved in. You’d been so caught up in studying and seeing your friends that you had forgotten to properly decorate your room.

“Your room’s boring,” Jeongin commented, as if reading your mind.

“Rude. But you’re right,” you agreed. “Maybe during the summer I’ll decorate it. Buy some posters, maybe find some new furniture on Facebook Marketplace.”

Jeongin nodded in approval. “I can help, if you want.”

“How can I trust that you’ll pick good home decor?” you rolled to face him, squinting.

“I know your taste, I’ve been living with you a year now,” Jeongin replied, scrolling through his phone. “Trust me, I don’t think I’ve forgotten a single thing about you.”

You chuckled. “Aw, do you have one of those lists with all my favourite things or something?”

“Nope. It’s all in here,” he tapped the side of his head, smiling playfully.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Do you want me to prove it?” he asked, turning to face you, eyes serious.

“Okay, then I’ll do the same,” you agreed.

Jeongin ran a hand through his hair and set his phone down. “Your favourite fruits are peaches, but nectarines come a close second. If stone fruits aren’t in season, you’ll settle for citrus. You’re prescribed an iron supplement, but you never take it, because you say it tastes like metal. Your favourite colour is pale blue, but it didn’t match the personal colour analysis that app gave you and you’ve been angry about it ever since. You drink with your friends, but don’t like getting drunk while you’re out since you have a fear of being kidnapped. You haven’t had a boyfriend since 12th grade, and you’re secretly in love with me,” he finished, eyes sparkling with mischief.

You rolled your eyes at his final statement. “Alright, Yang Jeongin. You’re the youngest in your friendship group but hate being babied, and you wanted to be a primary school teacher growing up. Your favourite colour is green, and you can fit a whole slice of pizza in your mouth. You can actually sing decently well, but never do, and you actually love Brooklyn 99 more than I do. You love buying clothes, and your favourite place to do so is the vintage shop down the road, where you spend all of your time and all of your money. And, above all, you get no bitches.”

“Don’t you classify as a bitch?” He laughed. “You did well, though. Everything you said was right.”

“You were right too,” you sighed. “I really thought you were going to say something insanely stupid that I could tease you for.”

Jeongin raised an eyebrow. “Did you forget that last statement?”

You ignored him. “I genuinely can’t believe you know that much about me. Fuck, I have to hide more about myself. I hate being perceived.”

Jeongin chuckled in amusement. “I pay attention. It’s weird hearing everything someone knows about you all at once. What am I supposed to do with that information?”

“I think we have to make out now,” you said casually.

He nodded, unsurprised. “I think we do.”

You shuffled closer, and he moved to lie above you, weight on his elbows. His eyes glittered, and his cheeks were tinged with peach. You smiled up at him, face warm and tingling. He leaned in, pressing his lips against yours softly, and you sighed into his mouth at the feeling. You moved your hands to cup his cheeks, deepening the kiss, pulling apart when you both lost your breath.

“You were right,” you panted, lips swollen. 

“About?”

“Me being secretly in love with you.”

He smiled. “Well, you were wrong. About me getting no bitches. It wouldn’t be presumptuous to assume you’re my bitch, considering the fact that we just kissed?”

“I won’t be for long if you keep calling me that. It’s girlfriend to you now,” you giggled, and he wrapped an arm around your torso, pulling you tight onto his chest.

[anon-e-miss]

Errant Blessings - 5

As he had the first time he carried Prowl down the mountain, Jazz pampered Prowl after his long labour egg-laying. His pelvic girdle throbbed and Prowl was sure that somehow his hips were broader now thant they had been before he had started laying the dozens of eggs. He still did not know how many there were. Some might yet not survive their final incubation in the lagoon. Prowl would have liked to have just some idea at all, but he had quickly lost count, only managing to keep count for the first joor and Jazz had been focusing on his, trusting in the Perpetuo crystal for what came after. Dozens of couples on the highland hoped for a bitlet, Prowl hoped that enough of the eggs had carried would unfurl to satisfy the longings of at least a third of them.

Even after his forge... forges reset, Prowl did not dawn his old armour. The sentio-metallico of his belly was loose and wrinkly. It would be longer still before it shrank back and even when it did, it would never been the same as it was. Prowl could not be the same as he was after twenty stellar-cycles incubating eggs he did not ask for. He did not know yet what he wanted to do. Would he just, tuck whatever loose plating remained into his armour and then go back on his enforcer beat? What else was there? Though he had fulfilled the crystal’s whims, its marks still covered Prowl’s frame. How could he explain them? How could he explained the fact he had two valves and a saggy belly? His wells too were enormous, and seemed the have grown since he had laid the clutches, although that could have been an illusion.

Prowl walked under his own power, wearing a the same cut of armour as Punch and dozens of strands of crystals. They were on his arms, around his ankles, around his neck and atop his helm. They were gifts from the villagers, the hopeful families of the crystals eggs that Prowl had incubated. Though he might have covered his loose belly with a higher cut girdle, Jazz had suggested that it was a mark of honour for Staniz. For them, there was no shame in what all had happened, for Prowl it was different. His wells ached, like his frame thought he had carries a normal carrying and should be nursing the resulting bitlet. It was too uncomfortable to wear a chestplate. He looked about the mechanisms climbing the mountain and found many of them were in a similar state. Did the Perpetuo crystal really have such power here?

“What the Pit?” Someone exclaimed and pointed. A loud gasp came up. Prowl jerked as he saw Chromedome’s corpse, skewered like an insecticon against the rock by dozens of crystals.

“He must o’ come for an egg,” Punch guessed. “‘N the Perpetuo crystal punished ‘m accordingly.”

“What is the Perpetuo crystal?” Prowl asked. “Why not just... do as it did with me?”

“He wasn’t worthy to be a vessel o’ the crystal’s blessin’,” Punch replied. “The Perpetuo crystal is the spark o’ an ancient titan that fell here ‘n became the island o’ our archipelago.”

“Someone take care o’ that,” Jazz ordered. “Probably gonna have to answer to the mainland.”

“We’ll deal,” Punch replied.

Everyone sat in the field of flowers that surrounded the lagoon. Prowl sat with Jazz and Punch near the edge of the lagoon. The first newling appeared and clamoured at the edge of the bank. Punch cooed at it and set it down on the ground. Immediately, it crawled to one of the waiting couples, like it knew exactly who it was meant for. Everyone cheered prayers of thanks to the crystal and its vessel. Another newling appeared. They were not as immature as a newling emerged in a conventional carrying. They were mobile. Dozens crawled from the lagoon, Prowl realized with some shock that there had been one each for every hopeful family, single or coupled. It shocked him how many eggs he had carried for twenty stellar-cycles. As the crowd wept with joy and gratitude, a pair of newlings pulled themselves up from the pool and the made a b-line for Prowl.

“I don’t understand,” Prowl said. Imperiously, one climbed into his lap, dragging the other along. They rooted through the crystals he wore of his wells and then latched onto his nozzles.

“They’re for ya,” Punch said. “Split-sparks... I think. But how?”

“The last egg was big ‘nough to’ve held twins,” Jazz replied. “Prowl said they’d be trouble.”

Prowl did not ask again what he was meant to do. He cared for the bitlets the crystal had bestowed him... him and Jazz. They were mischievous, loud and lively. Punch delighted in his grandbitties. Jazz was a brilliant progenitor. Raising their family was the blessing Prowl had not known he needed. With every sparkling on the island the same age, there was no end of playmates for them to play with. They had an additional playmate when Jazz kindled Prowl in the conventional manner. Red Alert had a glitch, as Prowl did but they loved him as well as they did Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. He was happy. They were happy. Their mechlings were growing, healthy and happy, along with the other sparklings from their clutch. The island prospered and Prowl was content. Then, the tattoos glowed and Prowl knew what it meant.

“The Perpetuo crystal calls for me,” Prowl told Jazz. “It had eggs ready.”

“What do ya want to do?” Jazz asked.

“I cannot leave without risking its wrath,” Prowl replied. “Go with me? Perhaps it won’t be so terrifying this time.”

Jazz took his aft as the crystal poured nectar down his throat, beginning the long mega-cycles of debauchery. His conjunx held his legs open as Prowl was impaled on his spike, and the crystals fragged him with three or four tentacles at a time. There was no need to reformat his frame but the crystal took its time with him all the same. Prowl wailed with pleasure as the crystal prepared him to be its vessel again. He watched as Jazz held him open for it, as the ovipositor tentacle writhed towards him. He gasped as Jazz spread the folds of his upper valve wide and the tentacle plunged in. Before, the crystal had filled first one forge and then the next with eggs but Jazz held Prowl’s lower valve open even as the crystal was pumping eggs into his upper for. Prowl writhed as his belly quickly bulged with the crystal’s eggs. He was in its grasps, dangling in the air as Jazz rubbed his anterior node, ensuring his never stopped overloading as he was filled with eggs.

“Ori mentioned families from the other islands’ve come callin’,” Jazz told him as he laid on the ground, spent. “I think ya got a hundred ‘least incubatin’ in yer sweet belly this time.”

“Oh Primus,” Prowl moaned.

It was a cycle. Every ten vorns the crystal called him and Jazz held him open on its altar as it filled his belly with more eggs. With every clutch, the crystal added to his family. When an enforcer came from Praxus asking after a cold case, Prowl did what he could to help. Barricade did not return to Praxus as the Perpetuo crystal chose him to be another Spark of Staniz. Jazz twin tended to him and in the end, the crystal gave them a bitlet of their own to raise. Prowl had thought this might mean his time as the Spark of Staniz was over but his tattoos glowed ten vorns after the last time and he laughed at himself. Polyhex was being quickly repopulated thanks to the wombs of two Praxians. When another enforcer came to discuss an old case with Prowl, he had wondered if the crystal would have similar designs on him. Nightbeat came down the mountain, a couple dozen eggs sitting heavy in his belly and Prowl thought perhaps Praxus should put a travel alert on the island.

[sevsbestfriend]

It has been 10 years since Voldemort died at the hands of Harry Potter. Harry sat with his Aunt Petunia, they had sort of made up even though Petunia definitely still hated his mother.

She had a picture book in her hand, showing her photos of his mother when she was younger, if he already didn't know he would have found it quite jarring that most of the photos of his mother has Severus Snape accompanying her. The stood together, shoulder touching with his then 8 year old mother grinning from ear to ear while an equally young Severus looked shyly at the camera. His clothes tattered, coats (probably his father's) in some and outsight feminine in others. He did almost resemble a girl in those, a cute one. ( he would never admit this outloud).

"You know it's quite strange he didn't like you, you were her son. If anything he would have wished you were his own child, rather than loathe you. They were thick as thieves, always went everywhere hand in hand." Petunia muses.

Harry looks at his aunt, her gaze seemed to stretch somewhere far away, to simpler times perhaps. She wipes a tear that escapes her eyes and looks back at the picture book.

"Then one day, they just stopped, she said Severus joined some bad group of people and how he was far gone. I thought how impossible that was, he was smitten with her you know? All she had to do was tell him not to do whatever he was doing and he would have stopped. I told her the same at the time, she said how he should come to such a conclusion on his own rather than from her coercing. Which was bullshit by the way, I had seen her use his affections for far more selfish reasons. She would bat her poisonous green eyes at him and say *please* in a cutesy voice and her wish became his command."

Petunia shook her head in disgust while she recalled such a moment, Harry felt mildly uncomfortable at the thought of his mother acting cute in front of Snape.

"So much heartache could be avoided if your mother was selfish for the right reasons back then, but then again, she was always such a bitch. No one else would say so to you of course, she was much to beautiful and perfect for anyone to see her bullshit."

Harry believed he had heard enough, and just as he was about to get up he heard something unbelievable.

"I saw him first" petunia grumbled, "He was running, a loaf of stolen bread in one hand while he used to other to part the crowd in from of him. He had such a roughish smirk on his face, 10 year old me swooned at him. I wished he was my roughish prince, who'd climb up the window of my room to meet me at night, just like those old Disney shows. Alas, I didn't have magic and was never worth his notice. If I did...he would have looked at me, not her." Petunia finally caught herself, slammed the photo book shut and stormed off the living room, leaving a shocked Harry to wonder the implications of her words.

[kaeyalovr]

Yandere Kaeya x reader drabble

idk I'm really bored it's 3AM and I wanted to post something. Not proofread sorry for any mistakes!!

tw. kidnapping, non-con, kaeya being a bit creepy but it's okay we love him

1,5k words

You've just been hired as one of Jean's many assistants. The pay could be better but it's enough to get by and hey, it's not like you have the right to be super picky about it, this is one of your first jobs so you have pretty much no prior experience becides some freelance gigs here and there.

You were initially very happy with the fact that you were going to get to assist the acting grand master and actually help mondstadt directly. Having wild dreams of being Jean's right hand woman, ready to be at her beck and call, being a part of important meetings giving insightful advice, you know, making mondstadt a better place.

Boy were you in for a rude awakening when you realized all you got to actually do was boring paperwork all day long. Just. Paperwork. Oh and sometimes if it was a really exciting day, you got to deliver a letter or two!

So obviously when the flirtatious cavalry captain started chatting with you by your desk every now and then, you appreciated it. It was just mindless small talk; "how has your day been?" "do you want a cup of coffee?" "the weather's nice today", but nonetheless you enjoyed it. It was a nice distraction in the middle of a boring day filled with piles and piles of documents. You even started looking forward to having him stop by your desk.

Little did you know how much he enjoyed it too. Honestly you didn't know why he had taken such an interest in you, he didn't seem to talk to the other office workers this much. Well he didn't seem to talk to them at all.

Your talks got more and more frequent, which you didn't mind, until they started interfering with your work. At the start he would stay for maybe five minutes, but it gradually got longer and longer, eventually he started lingering for what seemed like forever, talking about the most monotonous things. If you tried to do your work while he was talking, he would stop you and in a playful tone call you rude for not giving him your full attention. Honestly, if you, a simple office worker, was falling behind on your work because of this how did he, a cavalry CAPTAIN, find the time for these conversations? Did he seriously not have work of his own to attend to?

Then he started to get weird. First, quick glances at your lips or breasts, then his and your hands started "accidentally" brushing against each other and then a frequent hand on your shoulder or hip. You started getting uncomfortable. Did he always stand so close to you? Did he always keep his hand motionless on your thigh? Did he always call you by a cringy petname?

After a few weeks of this you decided to leave, he was a captain for archons sake, you couldn't avoid him. Especially not when you were couped up in one place for practically the whole day. Whatever, you got a new job in a local antique shop. At least this job would be more suited to your tastes and let you strech your legs a bit more. Plus there would be no creepy blue haired man to disturb you anymore.

You worked a full day in your old office before you were given permission to pack up your desk and leave. Jean really wanted to get every mora's worth out of you huh. The sun was setting below the horizon now, some nice scenery while you pack your things. Your multicolored pens which you only used once, a photo of you and your family and a mug gifted to you by an old friend. The office was almost empty at this point, except for a couple late night stragglers too focused on their work to notice anything anyway. You lasted a total of two months here, a bit pathetic but it's okay, now you know you're not cut out for the office life.

You're done packing relatively quickly since you didn't have much stuff there. As your desk was so small and overflowing with papers so there wasn't much space to have personal belongings stored anywhere. You're about to head out the door when a familiar voice stops you in your tracks, Kaeya. You exchange pleasantries and tell him you're packing up to leave. He seems shocked at that and asks why you're leaving, you give him some excuse about how you got a better paying job somewhere else. Definitely not because of you, you muse to yourself. Though the former reasoning is not entirely untruthful.

He says it's dark and offers to walk you home, you know, for safety. He's right and you didn't mind a 20 minute walk with him if it meant you never had to see him again. If only you'd been a little smarter.

While walking with Kaeya you engage in your usual smalltalk, though his voice is lower than usual. He's walking behind you all calm and nonchalant, and it's giving you the creeps even though you know it shouldn't, you rationalize his behaviors as him being tired after a long day of work. You try to walk a bit more briskly than usual to get to your house faster. You're renting out a room in a nice old lady's house.

You two are walking in a particularly dark and empty alleyway when you suddenly feel a hand clamp over your mouth. Panicked you look back and catch a glimpse of an ever unfazed Kaeya being the perpetrator of this act. His other arm wraps around your neck and crushes your windpipe. You struggle in his arms, your strength being no match for his, he easily overpowers you and keeps you firm in his grasp. You thrash a bit more before everything turns black.

You wake up in a foreign king-size bed with cold silky sheets. You lift your hand up to rub at your eyes but notice the leather belt binding both your hands to the headboard. You get increasinly panicked and memories of the night before come flodding back. You start to thrash and open your mouth to scream when the bedroom door opens.

In walks the blue haired prick who did this to you. You hurl every insult you can think of at him and demand he lets you go. He merely chuckles and asks why he would do that. You threaten to scream, he threatens to gag you, you stay silent. You start to get desperate and once you finally accept that the leather restraints won't budge, you plead with him, promise to not tell anyone about what he did. He simply retorts that even if you did miraculously escape and tell someone, no one would believe you.

He walks toward the bed and you try to rationalize the situation you're in right now. Why did he choose you and what does he even want to do with you? Does he intend to hold you for ransom? No, he's a decorated captain with presumably plenty of riches. Does he want some top secret information from you? He starts to unbuckle his pants. Oh. THAT'S what he wants.

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Your heart starts racing as you understand the severity of the predicament you're in right now. He climbs onto the bed, on top of you. This has to be a nightmare or some fucked up prank right? He pulls down your pants and let's out a wolf whistle. That fucking bastard. Next goes your panties and he rolls up your shirt, unable to pull it off completely because of your bound hands. Your breathing quickens. You beg him to stop. He doesn't.

He pulls down his boxers, you close your eyes tight and start hyperventilating. "Don't cry sweetheart, it's okay. Fuck you're so hot when you cry. Hey, look at me." He lightly slaps your face a few times. You reluctantly open your eyes and unintentionally glance down. He's fucking massive. Well not like the biggest dick in Teyvat but it's gotta be up there on the list man. Not that you've had a lot of experience to know what's big and what's not. Well none really. But you know for a fact that THAT is not gonna fit inside you, and you don't want it to.

He leans down and starts getting into position. You get a surge of adrenaline and start to thrash and struggle with all your might. Kaeya gets annoyed at that, grabs your legs and tells you to stop struggling and mumbles something about how it'll be easier for the both of you. You don't really care what he says and kick him straight in the stomach. You know it didn't do any real damage to him but it stops him for a minute. He's pissed.

"You know, I tried to do this the nice way. But you just love to make it difficult and act like a brat all the fucking time don't you. Not to worry, we have the whole day to fuck that out of you." Is the last thing you hear before he spears into you.

grrrr I left so much out but I gtg to sleep (also rushed ending sorry). Might make this into a fic if I feel like it and you guys want it😝 reqs are open btw

[wynnibee]

A Walk in the Park

Hi @starriegalaxy I was your secret skeleton!! I apologize for it being so late, thank you for your patience ❤️ I hope you enjoy a little walk through the park with Eclipse!

Lovingly proofread and edited by @voidedtea

Word Count: ~2700

Oh, how you loved the fall.

The shorter days, the chilly nights — and of course, the beauty of the changing leaves. The bright reds and yellows contrasting sharp against the brilliant blue sky, the leaves dancing against the open air like the flames of a fire. You so loved to listen to their rustling in the autumn breeze, their falling to the ground of a soft whirlwind of color.

You listen to them crunch under your feet – a delightful sound accompanying your stroll through the park. Towering oaks and maples, lining the park’s path like silent guardians, had just begun to show their bare branches in the mid-autumn day. Their trunks' bases were blanketed in once-verdant leaves, all the more swirling down to join them. A few stray ones tumble and crinkle past your feet in the light breeze.

The park is lit by the sun overhead, its creeping across the sky slow as the day nears its end. That sun shines through what leaves still cling to their trees, casting dappled shadows on the ground. You relish in the warmth as you walk out from under them.

Passing into the shadow of that canopy again, a small chill runs up your arms despite your sweater’s warmth. You hold your arms closer to yourself in a hug, hoping to trap the last of what the sun's kiss could provide.

The park was so beautiful this time of year, you were surprised that it was practically empty. Most people didn't bother coming out when later afternoon slipped into evening. You couldn't complain though – you preferred to have a little alone time with your companion anyways.

Turning around, you smile at Eclipse, watching as he glances around the whole park. His gaze flits between the sky as a couple of crows pass overhead, to the rustle of leaves in their trees, to the ground where a squirrel scurries about before darting up a one such tree. He glances at all the leaves piled up on the ground, his head flicking towards every bit of movement or sound. Eclipse's normally wide smile looks unsteady, and his eyes are large as he takes in his surroundings.

You frown a little. You can't help but think that he looks nervous – or at least unsure. Maybe inviting him out was a bad idea? He mentioned a while ago that he'd never been outside before…

“Clippy?” you ask, tentative. Slowly, you make your way back towards him, having put a fair amount of distance between you both where he'd gotten distracted and fell behind you.

It takes Eclipse a few seconds to notice your approach. He seems reluctant to look down at you, struggling to tear his gaze away from the trees above. When his eyes do meet yours, though, he smiles in that soft, gentle way that always makes your heart melt.

“Yes, sweetness?” the large bot says in an even tone. His eyes are full of affection and you can't help the flush of your cheeks despite your concern. You take his long hands in your own, rubbing your thumbs along his palms.

“Are you okay? Is this too much?“ You begin to ramble, “I'm sorry for overwhelming you, I should've thought about that before I brought you out here- oh, if you want to go home we can, it's okay! I'm sure we can figure something else to do there, maybe watch a movie? Whatever you wanna do, it's fine with me, I just don't want you to be uncomfortable- what?”

You cut yourself off as Eclipse chuckles at you, his eyes alight with nothing but mirthful fondness. His hands had shifted to hold yours more securely during your ramble, and as you tilt your head back to look at him, his smile widens.

“I'm not uncomfortable at all, Angel-eyes. It's just a lot to take in all at once– there's so much movement and sound and color.” He pauses to look up at the trees again, before glancing back down at you. “You'd think after all that time in the daycare I would be used to all of...this.”

Eclipse gestures to your surroundings with one hand. You glance around again, suddenly aware of the richness to it all that had faded into the back of your mind.

“Is that a bad thing?“ you say carefully. You watch as Eclipse reaches up to snatch a leaf out of the air – a lovely bright red maple – before gently twisting and turning it in his hand. The Daycare Attendant admires the leaf, poring over every detail hidden in its red surface.

“Not at all, mousecake. In fact, I've never been so...awestruck by something like this before – with one exception.” His eyes lock with yours and you flush. “The colors are so beautiful. The reds and oranges and yellows and browns. It's a constant, never-ending rush of warmth. It's fascinating that the leaves used to be so green, but now they've changed with the autumn season. I don't think I've ever actually seen the changing of the seasons in anything but pictures.”

Eclipse gently tucks the maple behind your ear and into your hair, fussing with it slightly to keep it there. He lifts your hand that he's still holding in the air, slowly twirling you so that your back is pressed against his chassis. The puffy sleeves of his outfit crinkle against your sweater as his arms wrap around you. You feel his smile press into the top of your head.

“Just take a moment to close your eyes and listen,” he whispers against your hair. Sighing, you oblige and lean back into him. “What do you hear, love?”

You turn your focus to your surroundings once more, furrowing your brow slightly as you do. 

You can hear the trees rustling overhead. You hear crows cawing off to your left, leaves blowing across the ground to your right. The particular leaf tucked into your hair rattles slightly. Underneath it all, you can even hear the quiet tick, tick, tick of Eclipse's inner workings.

“I can hear...the crows, and the wind, and the leaves. I see what you mean about it all moving,” you smile. “I can hear you, too. I think that's my favorite sound of all.”

Eclipse laughs, the noise full of affection. His arms tighten around you, and you lean back further into them. “You can hear me, huh?”

“I can hear the ticking in your chassis, the whirring of your joints as you move,“ you whisper to him, “It's a steady rhythm, a tick tick tick, over and over. It sounds like a heartbeat. It's...comforting.“

The large robot hums behind you, the sound rumbling against your back. You respond in kind – as best you can, at least. You really could get lost in the ensuing harmony, a song only you and Eclipse can hear.

“You promise you're not uncomfortable, amor? We can leave if you want,” you say with what you hope is reassurance. The last thing you want is for Eclipse to think you're upset or disappointed. Your eyes are still closed while your head rests against his chassis.

“I promise,” he says, “I enjoy being out here and spending my time with you.“

”Alright, if you change your mind, just let me know.”

A chilly breeze whispers through the leaves with the promise of a cold night. You shiver, shifting in Eclipse's arms to rub your hands up and down your sweater sleeves, trying to chase away the goosebumps rising on your skin.

Opening your eyes at last, you look around the park once more from where you stand. The sun has drooped towards the horizon, reaching for its edge with flared coronal strands. The few clouds drifting above remind you of an artist's canvas, all the different textures and colors flowing away from the sinking sun like paint off a brush.

Golden rays of light stretch through the branches of the trees, illuminating the dull concrete of the path with stepping stones of liquid gold. The day was nearing its close, leaving you with only a couple hours before the night took over. You'd have to head home soon.

But — you didn’t want to leave just yet.

Turning round, you press your chest against Eclipse, tilt your head back to look him in the face. Your arms come to wrap around his waist, and his own arms adjust to settle around you from where they'd shifted when you turned.

Your cheeks flush when his eyes soften at you, adding to the redness on your face where the cold had begun to nip at your nose. Your eyes light up as an idea strikes. Your arms tighten around Eclipse as you begin to sway slow. He watches you curiously; you can feel his eyes dart around your face, a non-existent weight smoothing over your skin. You bat your lashes at your partner as you continue to sway, slowly pulling him into the movement with you.

It only takes a minute more before he catches on, an almost overjoyed smile stretching across his faceplate as he shifts his body to take one of your hands in his and places the other gently on your side. You attempt to put your arm on his shoulder, though your fingertips just barely reach below his ruffles. A giggle escapes you at the sheer height of him.

Gently, he pulls you into the more steady rhythm of an easy two-step dance.

You swing and sway across the path, crunching and rustling leaves underfoot with every step. The animatronic's eyes never leave yours, something lovestruck adorning his face. You can only look back, admiring the way his rays catch the slowly fading afternoon light, framing his crescent face in a brilliant halo of gold fire. The bell at the end of his hat chimes with every motion.

Suddenly, he sends you out in a quick spin, holding your hand above your head as you twirl. You laugh, happily leaning into the gesture before Eclipse pulls you back to him. His laughter joins yours as you're lifted to meet his eyes, holds you secure as he spins aimlessly, bouncing and swinging you around with exaggerated steps.

Your laughter only grows, the sound almost giddy to your ears. You hold tight onto the animatronic, his eyes crinkled with delight and shoulders shaking with the force of his own laughter.

“Eclipse!” you barely get his name out through your giggles, the Daycare Attendant coming to a stop. You both stand there, under trees that seem to share your mirth, the leaves trembling in their own raucous applause.

Eclipse holds you while your laughter dies down. You take a few deep breaths, the crisp air filling your lungs. As you steady yourself, you look over to the grassy area in the middle of the park. The leaves from the path have been raked around that spot, and right in the center of the grass is a massive pile of them.

You feel your whole body swell with excitement. A grin splits your face, "Set me down, set me down! I wanna show you something."

Eclipse acquiesces without hesitation, and you reach to grab his hand.

Lacing your fingers together, you move to pull the large robot with you, but pause when you feel resistance. You look back to see Eclipse watching you with suspicion.

“What?” you say with what you hope is innocence. 

Eclipse's eyes narrow further.

“You're plotting something, sweetness. I can see it in your eyes.”

You let go of his hands to clasp your own together, holding them down by your hip as you bat your eyes at him with a smile. A picture of perfectly innocuous intent if you’ve ever seen one.

“Whaaaat? Me? Plot something? Cariño, I would never,” you say with mock, exaggerated offense, mischief blooming across your face. “You'll like this. I promise.”

Extending your hand towards the Daycare Attendant, your expression shifts into a smile more genuine. He seems to consider it, and for a brief moment you worry he might refuse. Then, Eclipse extends his hand, lacing his long fingers with yours, and returns your smile with his own.

Giggling, you begin to tug him towards the leaf pile, more of them crunching underfoot. As you go, your pace grows until Eclipse's footsteps are thudding behind to match your own. You let go of Eclipse's hand, a surprised noise leaving the Attendant as you run ahead.

You sprint right towards that leaf pile — before diving in. The leaves scatter with a rush, tumbling away in a cascading ripple-wave. After a moment to catch your breath, you heft yourself from the pile, hair and sweater soaked in crumpled leaves like autumnal confetti. 

It's a miracle the leaf Eclipse gave you is still in your hair.

The approaching intermingle of heavy footsteps and jingle of bells is barely any warning for Eclipse's ensuing leap into the pile to join you – a motion that drowns you in leaves once more. Scattered as it is, the remaining pile does little to cushion Eclipse's landing, your partner hitting the ground with a resounding thud. The air around you both fills with your collective laughter, yours doubling as he digs you out of the leaves.

Eclipse does manage to uncover you, both of you absolutely beside yourselves with mirth. You clutch at your sides as you continue to giggle, heaving yourself up to grab a handful of those leaves. Tossing them in the air, you look down at Eclipse to where he sits on the ground, the poor Attendant half-buried in leaves himself. They’re mostly caught on his rays, one leaf awkwardly impaled on the point of his left topmost one.

As the leaves you threw begin to rain down, Eclipse grabs your hand and pulls you back to the ground, holding you close. You’re gently pulled into his lap and as you wrap your arms around his neck, he falls backwards into the leaves, taking you with. You can’t help but giggle as you smile down at him from where you lay on his chassis, reaching up to pull the leaf off of his ray.

By now, the sun has finally dipped below the horizon, casting the sky in a brilliant array of golds, pinks, and deep purples. Even the trees are soon set alight with that same flurry of colors. The shadows on the ground grow harsh, meanwhile, slicing through what warmth remains.

The golden hour had begun, bathing you and your beloved robot in the last hurrah of light before the sun bid its farewells.

You watch as Eclipse drinks in the view – his eyes dart and skip across the edges of forming shadows, linger in and upon that golden light.

At last, however, they drift back to settle on you.

A flush crosses your face in spite of you as his gaze lingers. You realize, perhaps somewhat belatedly, that the light was wreathing you too. You realize that, perhaps, he's admiring you.

“You really are something else, you know that, love?” Eclipse whispers, as though raising his voice any further would scare away this settling peace.

Your eyes soften. You reach a hand up to hold the side of his faceplate, your thumb stroking over the swirl of his cheek. “Am I now? I could say the same about you, amor.”

He sighs underneath you, his chassis heaving in mimicry of the motion. You rest your head on your hand, simply watching him as he lays under you. His eyes meet yours again, crinkle with a soft smile. Eclipse raises slightly, lifting his hand to cradle the back of your head. His long fingers thread through your hair, soon pulling you gentle towards his face. You give no resistance, leaning down to bunt your forehead against his, both of you basking in the warmth of each other's affection.

“So,” you eventually begin, breaking the silence between you, “how do you feel about fall, Clippy? Did it measure up to the pictures in your books?”

The robot chuckles at you, a blush covering his own face as he responds, “I think it might just be my favorite season, sweetness.”

Oh, how you loved the fall.

[pirojiji]

a slice of life about just the worst people

[lgbtlunaverse]

I have been thinking on the nature of mdzs as a deliberately vague text that leaves many things up to interpretation, and how i've slowly come to understand "up for interpretation" less as "there is One True version of this story i must find" and not even as " Everyone has a different One True Version of this story inside their head be based on their interpretations and the differences don't make one wrong and the other right" but as "There is no One True Version. Even in my own subjective interpretation of the text multiple things can be true at once" specifically, in regard to Jin Guangyao and the many things which are left up in the air as to whether he did them or not, most notably killing his son.

There's evidence for this, but it's non conclusuve (jgy saying he killed him while also saying he killed Qin Su, who very much killed herself. The speculations on how he'd have killed him being sect leader yao just saying shit. ) it is, esentially, just up in the air enough that if you decisively fall on one side of the debate is probably says more about you and your general opinion of jgy than it does about the "true" events of canon.

I have, as a proud apologist, always fallen on the "he didn't kill him but felt in some way responsible for his death." Side but recently have become more okay with the interpretation that maybe he DID kill him, and that at the very least, that when he tells Qin Su their son "needed to die" he is being genuine. Which, once you look at it beyond. "Is jgy a poor lil meow meow who it is Okay to Like or an irredeemable baby murderer" becomes both INCREDIBLY tragic and deeply interesting. Because here is a man condemned for who his parents were and who wants nothing more than to live, saying that it is possible to be so cursed by your heritage that you need to die. There is no existence for you. The exact same thing that has been said to him.

Of course being born out of wedlock to a sex worker and being a product of incest are different things, but that begs the question: where is the line? What crimes of the father can mean death for the son? How cursed can you be until your existence is so incompatible with society it is you who needs to give? And if there is... where is it? Qin su clearly thought she was past it. Was his son really past it? Is he?