#hitting a fly with a sledgehammer

[brinconvenient]

My elder daughter is in London and very excited to see her first professional production of "Noises Off" so I decided I wanted to watch the movie, which I'd not seen in ages, again. I call this piece "For we live in a world of madness and I, sadly, remain sane"

[depresseddepot]

I've been on tumblr for a long time but none of you prepared me for the absolutely horrendous sounds the tardis makes

[deliciousangelfestival]

Guilt

Character: Mob!Bucky x Police!Female Reader

Summary: "Of all the women in the world, does she have to be a cop?" Bucky, a gangster, fell in love at first sight with a policewoman.

At the golf course, two outstanding men in the mob world are playing golf together to have a quiet time, to forget the worst day at the club they owned.

Steve, the second person in charge, still feels frustrated, while Bucky, the leader, is the only one enjoying the game.

"Of all the women in the world, does she have to be a cop?" Steve, his childhood friend, asked as he watched Bucky hit the golf ball.

Bucky clenched his fist in frustration as he made the shot. Turning to Steve, he replied, "I can't help it. She just took my breath away the first time I saw her."

Steve sighed, recalling the first encounter between Bucky and the policewoman when their club was unexpectedly visited by the narcotics police force.

Steve sighed, "She's known as a scary person, even among her colleagues," he said, relaying what he had learned from his connections.

"And from what happened last night, I feel like she holds a big grudge against people like us," Steve continued, reflecting on the recent events. Most of the cops he knew turned a blind eye to their business dealings, never getting involved with drugs.

Bucky remembered how composed you had been last night, effortlessly throwing punches and giving orders to make arrests. He even recalled the moment you pushed him to the ground and handcuffed him.

At that instant, he knew you were different from other women.

Bucky took another swing at the golf ball, causing it to fly too far. With a smile, he declared, "I will make her mine."

Steve sighed deeply, realizing that once Bucky had made up his mind, no one could stop him.

As Bucky began his courtship, he tried various approaches to get closer to you:

1. He sent you flowers with cryptic notes, hinting at his admiration and interest.

2. Bucky strategically positioned himself at events where you were present, making sure to catch your eye without being too obvious.

3. He orchestrated chance encounters, bumping into you at coffee shops or restaurants, always ready with a charming smile and a casual conversation starter.

4. He even went as far as anonymously sending you a gifts or helpful tips related to your work, trying to show his support and understanding of your profession.

But you didn't give any reaction; you consistently ignored him.

Bucky didn't mind your game of "playing hard to get." He was confident that in the end, you couldn't resist him.

However, his confidence wavered when you finally spoke to him, your words cutting through the air like icy daggers. "In 2022, Bobby Smith died because of a gunshot. He was my fiancé."

Bucky's face drained of color, his body going rigid with shock. The revelation hit him like a sledgehammer, the weight of guilt crashing down upon him. His mind raced as he realized the implication: Bobby Smith's death was because of him.

After the revelation, would Bucky give up his pursuit, or would he persist despite the overwhelming guilt?

[starlost-mochi-x]

Low-key can I pls request Chris comforting reader on her period because I'm on my right now and I want him as my personal hot water bottle.

Thank you!!

omg first request!!

hopefully this meets your expectations hahah... i wrote reader having a really bad period... hopefully that's fine for you <3 feel better!

he comforts you on your period - bang chan

pairing: bang chan x reader

summary: you're struggling with your period and chan helps you out

genre: fluff, non-idol! au, comfort, lil bit angsty. mentions of undressing, feeling nauseous & dizzy, cramps and period pain, reader has a period (obviously)

a/n: comments are appreciated... and whoever's reading this, feel better! and eat some dark chocolate <3

You groan for the fourth time as another debilitating cramp whacks you right in the gut, followed straight after by a dizzying wave of nausea. You're helpless to do anything but whine and writhe weakly on the bed, tangling the sheets and causing uncomfortable lumps of the blanket to pool up around you. It's too hot, too cold, too much pain, too sharp, too dull, never-ending.

You can't even call for Chan.

He's working from home today due to the severe weather, shut in his little studio down the apartment hallway. The rain clatters and thunders against the windows and balcony door, speckled with tiny crystal shards of hail ice. He's probably busy working away at some song while on call with the rest of 3RACHA. You can picture him busily writing down song lyrics in his notebook, headphones and black cap askew on his head, and hand messily smudging the dark, scented ink of his words on the page. His pretty, dark eyes shining, wide and focused as he does what he does best.

That pleasing mental image of your boyfriend is quickly chased away by another wave of nausea and you curl in on yourself, fighting the desperate urge to scream with whatever you have left. You didn't bother taking painkillers when the first cramp hit this morning, thinking you could muscle through it. Every time, you think you can handle the pain, and every time, you're proven completely and utterly wrong. And now you're immobilised on the bed, unable to do anything but face the bloody wrath of your monthly cycle.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Groaning, you shift achingly slowly to the side, trying to alleviate the pain. For a moment, you consider calling for Chan, but you doubt you'd be able to shout loud enough, and more so, you don't want to disturb him. The comeback is soon, and he was stressed enough at not being able to go to the company after seeing the state of the weather. He'd woken you up with a kiss, ordered breakfast to be delivered to the door, and disappeared, only pausing to throw on a hoodie and his usual cap. The studio door had shut and you had heard no more. He's been working all morning. He had said to try not to disturb him unless you really needed something, but you understood. He had a lot to do. But...

Biting your lip guiltily, and then wincing at the dull pain pooling in your stomach, you do your best to slide off the bed. It doesn't matter how much it hurts; you need painkillers. And right now, Chan can't afford to be distracted, so you muster up all of your strength to sit upright.

One foot touches the cold floor, and then the other. Both hands fly to your stomach and you double over, hair brushing your knees as you wait for the dizzying nausea to pass. It feels like you're being slammed in the gut with a sledgehammer set on fire. Attempting to regain your bearings, you sit up and wait for a few minutes. The pain dulls for a few moments and so does the headache, so you shakily stand, reaching for the wall in case your knees give out. Walking to the kitchen is a colossal effort, and a slow one at that too. The short walk down the hallway feels like a year.

Finally slumping against the counter, feet numb from the cold tiles, you take a glass from the dishrack and fill it halfway with water, spilling most of it on the counter in your hazy, aching state. Your vision is spotted with stars as you reach up on tiptoes and open the medicine cabinet to reach the painkillers.

You swallow two and move to make your way back to the bedroom. Turning, you're suddenly hit with the most awful, searing, intolerable pain. You jackknife to the floor, knees throbbing from the solid impact as they thud against the tiles. Leaning heavily on the cabinet, you rest your forehead against the cool, slightly chilled surface, and feel a liquid smearing onto the cupboard door. Pulling away slightly, you realise you're covered in a sheen of sweat. Your clothes stick uncomfortably to your body. It's too hot, too cold, too much pain, too sharp, too dull, never-ending but even worse than before.

Your breath comes in short, sharp gasps, every heave sapping your energy. Sagging forward, you rest your face against the cool tiles, trying to stay conscious. Your surroundings blur out, replaced with an unpleasant echoing ring and the sound of Chan's footsteps.

Chan's footsteps?

He's holding his drained waterbottle in one hand and his phone in the other, eyebrows furrowing as he reads some lyric notes he typed earlier. Feeling quite pleased with himself, he turns into the kitchen and is immediately met with the sight of you slumped on the floor, coated in sweat and curled up like a dying insect in the summer.

His eyes widen and he drops to his knees, phone clattering to the side and waterbottle clanging loudly. The sound makes you wince.

"Love? Hey-" his warm, calloused hands run over your shoulders, panicked and wide-eyed. "What happened?"

You can't even respond.

Chan swears a few colorful, fluent phrases as he stands and dashes down the hallway, returning with a damp rag. He gently but hurriedly mops the sweat off your forehead and nape before tossing it aside and carefully lifting you into his firm, toned arms. Deadlifting you from the floor, he carries you back to the bedroom and sets you down gently, pulling the rumpled covers back. He rushes out of the room for what feels like hours but is probably only a few minutes. Hurrying into the bedroom, he sets a few things down on the bedside before gently freeing you from your sweaty clothes.

In another scenario, you would be embarrassed, but right now you can't care less. It feels freeing and the cold air in the apartment seeps into your body, providing a welcome coolness. He lifts a hot water bottle and places it onto your lower stomach, tucking it slightly into the waistband of your underwear to keep it in place. He presses down lightly and you groan weakly, the heat providing almost immediate relief from the aching.

You don't register what happens after that; only the feeling of the damp cloth sweeping over your forehead and neck and Chan's warm, gentle touch keep you connected to consciousness. He begins to sing softly, lulling you into the heavy, dreamless sleep of the sick. HIs voice floats in the air like a wisp, light and airy and lilting, yet deep, accented, and rich. You gather all your remaining strength.

"Channie," you croak.

He looks up, brows knitted together in worry. He stops his ministrations, hand hovering over your shoulder.

Tears well in your eyes. Whether it's from the jumbled mess that the morning has been, the maelstrom of hormones, emotions and guilt in your system, the debilitating pain, or Chan's seemingly endless love, you're not entirely sure. Your voice is an almost inaudible whisper.

"I'm sorry i disturbed you. I went to take painkillers so i wouldn't disturb you because i know you're busy with the comeback-"

He cuts you off, expression gentle yet concerned. "I know i was busy, but you should have called me, love. Look at the state of you."

A hot tear spills down your cheek. "I'm sorry, Channie."

He shushes you, stroking your hair back from your forehead. "Don't apologise, yeah? If you need me, i'll come to you. Please don't ever feel that you're a bother to me or that you're disturbing me. Especially when it comes to things like this," he rubs your hipbone softly with his thumb, in soothing, relieving circles.

"Channie, can you cuddle me?"

He smiles softly. Pressing himself to your back, he bends his knees, spooning and tucking you into his chest. A surge of intoxicating warmth seeps pleasantly into your body and you sigh contentedly. His toned arm snakes around your waist, pressing the hot water bottle to your stomach so you don't have to hold it there yourself. Kissing your neck softly, he nuzzles into your shoulder, telling you to sleep and that he would be there when you wake up. It feels so warm, so cosy, so safe. But the guilt of having tore him away from his work doesn't slip your hazy, fatigued mind.

"Channie, i'm sorry for being a bother."

He exhales a small, sincere chuckle through his nose, tucking his head further into your shoulder.

"You're never a bother to me, love."

a/n: how'd i do? do we like it? likes, reblogs, comments are appreciated <3

[rubycruzin4abruzin]

Forbidden Crown - III

Summary: Kit and Airk visit Azarenth to celebrate your fifteenth birthday, but when your mother delivers some earth-shattering news, your relationships with the twins crumble. After an ‘experiment’ gone wrong, you realize some things about yourself that could destroy your life, as well as those of the people around you.

Pairing: kit tanthalos x princess!reader

Contains: angst, boy-kissing, girl-kissing, implied vomiting (not graphic), half-smut, heavy petting, second base, forced marriage, nightmare

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: it’s getting steamy up in here

The day you turned fifteen was a cause of celebration for all of Azarenth. Your parents held an elaborate banquet in your honor, complete with minstrels and jesters, and invited the entire kingdom to celebrate. All day long, you received birthday wishes and blessings from the townspeople, indulged in your favorite foods, and drowned in a seemingly endless sea of presents. Luxurious garments, precious jewelry, fine craftsmanship; you were gracious for every one, but none compared to the greatest gift of them all.

“Tomorrow morning, the twins from Tir Asleen will be riding in for a visit.” Your mother informed you later that evening, after all the party guests had gone home.

You froze in your tracks, the news leaving you momentarily speechless. “Really? They’re visiting here?”

“Well I’d prefer not to have Kit stay,” your mother scoffed. “But heaven forbid I take one without the other.”

Far too excited to acknowledge your mother’s snide remark, you rushed to wrap your arms around her, expressions of gratitude flying from your lips. She stiffened at your touch, only obliging with a reluctant pat on your back.

Just when you felt like you were on top of the world, everything came crashing down in a matter of seconds.

“I expect you to be on your best behavior while they’re here, please put in the extra effort to make Airk feel comfortable. In five years’ time, you will be his bride.”

You froze again, the last sentence hitting you like a sledgehammer to a stone wall. Slowly, you removed your arms from her torso, stepping back to meet her gaze. “Pardon?”

“Sorsha and I decided it was time to tell you both,” she explained calmly. “We’ve been arranging this marriage to unite our kingdoms since you were young.”

Confusion, anger, betrayal; a plethora of emotions swarmed you as you stood there, stunned. “You’re telling me this now?”

“Darling, you’re fifteen now, a woman. We didn’t want to scare you when you were children but it’s high time you start to think about the future of Azarenth.”

Realization hit you like a pound of bricks. “That’s why you always put so much emphasis on a relationship with Airk? You were preparing us for marriage?”

“Well I see no reason for such commotion! From what you’ve told me, you and Airk get along quite well. I’m sure you’ll make a fine couple.”

She dismissed you with a wave of her hand before retreating to her bedchamber for the night, leaving you standing there in a puddle of conflicting feelings. On one hand, Airk was pleasant company, and he could make a fine ruler one day. On the other hand, your heart didn’t long for him, and just the thought of you two being expected to produce heirs made you feel ill.

In five years, in five short years, you would be Princess Airk Tanthalos. You closed your eyes, testing out the name once on your lips before running outside and dropping to your knees, emptying your stomach's contents into the street.

That night was spent tossing and turning in bed, fighting off images of a marriage to Airk before they overpowered you, transforming into a nightmare as you slipped into slumber.

You were walking through the Tir Asleen gardens with Kit, picking bouquets of flowers and laughing at nothing but your own contagious joy. Just when you were almost done arranging your flowers, she seized your hand without warning, forcing you to drop your bouquet and pulling you away from the garden.

“Kit! Where are we going?” You chuckled, but never received an answer.

Instead, she pulled you into the doors of the castle and led you through every room. Each room seemed to stretch on forever, the exit nothing more than an optical illusion. With every new step, Kit moved faster until you were practically chasing after her, each breath coming in ragged gasps as your feet slapped against the cold stone floor.

Finally, Kit led you back outside, where you seemed to have spent so long in the castle that the sky was now a dark black with no moon in sight. She continued to pull you until you stood in front of the garden once again, where she slowed her pace before pausing at the entrance. This time, instead of the garden being filled with fragrant flowers and low-hanging trees, it was furnished to look like a wedding ceremony, with Airk standing at the end of the aisle. All of the guests turned in their chairs, staring at you with stone-like expressions.

You looked down and found that your everyday clothing had been replaced with an extravagant wedding gown. “Kit,” you whispered, squeezing her hand. “Why have you brought me here?”

Kit turned to look at you, leaving you horrified as her face morphed into that of your mother’s. Her demeanor remained still and frosty as she dropped your hand like a forgotten promise.

“The future is upon us, Princess Airk Tanthalos.”

You shot up in bed, gasping for breath as your heart raced. Pressing a hand to your chest, you inhaled deeply, forcing yourself to calm down. The window facing outside showed the sky still an impenetrable black, clear and streaked with twinkling stars. You groaned, flopping back onto your mattress as you reluctantly prepared for the remainder of a restless night.

You practically sleepwalked through the next morning, the dark circles under your eyes hanging like crescent moons in the night sky. After grunting a barely perceptible greeting to your parents, you took your seat at the breakfast table and started on the meal the chefs had prepared for you. Each bite tasted like gray mush. You chewed mechanically, feeling as if your emotions were so dulled that even your taste buds were affected.

Silence filled the breakfast table as everyone noticed you weren’t your usual chipper self. Even your father noticed something was off and attempted to speak before your mother shot him an icy glare, placing her hand over his as an unspoken warning.

Before you even had time to pass out onto your plate, the familiar clip-clop of a horse-drawn carriage sounded from outside, signaling the twins' arrival. You stood up, trailing behind your parents as you stepped outside to greet your guests.

A creamy white horse stood just outside the castle entrance, attached to a rugged coachman steering a wooden carriage. Airk was the first to step out, shaking out his chestnut curls and smoothing the fabric of his thin tunic. The morning sun reflected off his green eyes, making them look like two polished emeralds.

Although you weren’t attracted to him, you had to admit, he had grown into a handsome lad. You began to wonder if there was a chance that marrying him wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, that maybe you could make it work, and learn to live somewhat content.

But then Kit stepped out of the carriage, and the very thought of marrying her brother became distasteful again. She was pale, and the dark circles under her eyes only accentuated her lack of color. Her clothing was loose, wrinkly, and her barely chin-length tresses were dyed black with an indigo plant.

To anyone else, she appeared as a tired mess, a pathetic excuse for a princess. But when you gazed upon her, all you saw was Kit. Your Kit. The girl you grew up with and simultaneously never saw, the one person who meant more to you than anyone else.

Your mother rushed to meet Airk, presenting a perfect curtsy and gushing over how handsome he’d gotten. To Kit, she offered nothing more than a brief nod and a stiff grin.

“Welcome to Azarenth, you two,” she greeted. “I trust you’ll feel right at home here.”

With that, she turned on her heel, marching back into the castle and leaving you to attend to your guests. You never really liked having your mother around; her chilly demeanor often irritating you to the point of submerging yourself into daydreams where you could run away, free from her parental confines. But now, as she walked away and you watched her figure grow smaller, you wanted nothing more than for her to return. Even if it was to make a snide comment, you would take anything to alleviate the tension that now floated between you and the twins.

Airk took a step towards you, clearing his throat and hiding his hands behind his back. “Happy birthday, Princess.”

You smiled in return, curtsying politely. The two of you stood there, silently staring at each other, the weight of what you both now knew settling between you.

“Yes, happy birthday, Princess.” Kit sneered, stomping over and offering an exaggerated curtsy.

Your smile faltered. “No need to be so formal.”

Kit scowled at you, her blue eyes, once bright oceans now beady cesspools filled with contempt. “Oh forgive me, your highness! I had no intention of offending her majesty, the future ruler of Tir Asleen!”

She scoffed, shaking her head and storming past you into the castle doors. Airk mumbled a quick apology on her behalf before following after her, leaving you outside, alone, caught in a whirlpool of heartache.

The rest of the day remained as tense as how it started. Kit had holed herself up in her designated guest room, so you were stuck with Airk. For the most part, you tried to avoid each other, save for occasionally crossing paths in the hallways and stuttering immediate apologies. When the kitchen maid rang the dinner bell, you reluctantly trudged to the dining room, dragging your feet all the way there to postpone interaction as much as possible.

Your mother eyed you critically as you were the last to take your seat at the table. “How kind of you to grace us with your presence.”

Pursing your lips out of disdain, you glanced over at Airk. He met your gaze, making accidental eye contact for a brief second before looking down and pretending to be transfixed by his supper. Your eyes traveled across the table to a seat left empty, Kit’s noticeable absence leaving a pang in your chest.

Sounds of silverware scratching against ceramic dishes filled the room as the four of you ate in silence. You and Airk kept your heads down, refusing to look up from your plates while your parents exchanged glances from across the table. Once finished, you pushed your plate away and requested to be excused, leaving without waiting for a response.

Grabbing your shawl off a nearby hook, you walked briskly out of the castle. The cold December air pricked against your skin as you hugged your shawl closer to you. Azarenth typically had a warmer climate with very few opportunities for cold weather, but something about this night felt especially frosty, enough for a handful of snowflakes to lazily drift down from the night sky.

You retreated to a small courtyard away from the main thoroughfares, a secluded area complete with a center fountain you often used as a refuge. Taking a seat on the edge of the fountain, you stared at your reflection in the water, your mirrored image looking just as tired and stressed as it had that morning. You groaned, splashing away your likeness before immediately pulling your hand back, shocked by the iciness of the water.

As you sat alone with your thoughts, the sound of footsteps approached. You turned your head to see Airk at the entrance, pausing as soon as you met his gaze. He looked sheepish, his hands hiding behind his back as he nervously shuffled his feet.

“Your father told me I might find you here,” he spoke softly, answering the question you never asked.

You didn’t respond, so he moved towards you, taking a seat beside you on the edge of the fountain. The two of you sat in silence for a moment, staring at your feet while you listened to the gentle roar of the water behind you.

“Your parents informed you of the arrangement, I imagine.” He said in a low voice, addressing the elephant in the room.

You sighed deeply, nodding your head in response. “I feel so betrayed.”

Airk raised his eyebrows.

“Not because you’d make a terrible spouse!” You quickly backtracked. “I just… I feel so…”

“Caught off guard?” Airk interrupted.

You nodded. His assumption was only half-true, but true nonetheless.

Airk puffed out his cheeks, taking a moment to choose his next words carefully. “Well, perhaps we could… test it out? See what it’s like?”

You eyed him with furrowed brows. “What do you mean?”

“Married life,” he clarified. “Perhaps we could… try some of the things married people do? Just to see how it feels?”

Your eyes widened as you leaned back in shock. “I’m not doing that!” You crossed your arms over your chest and drew inward, suddenly feeling very exposed despite being fully dressed.

“No, no! I would never ask you to do that!” Airk sputtered, vigorously shaking his head.

You sighed in relief. Airk laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his neck, trying to calm his nerves.

“No, certainly not. I…” he cleared his throat. “…was truly suggesting we… try a kiss? Surely, married couples kiss. Perhaps we could just see how it feels?”

You glanced at his lips and contemplated his proposal. He had a point. “Yes.”

“Are you certain?” Airk’s eyes widened in surprise.

You nodded. “Well, we’ll be expected to kiss at our wedding anyway. May be convenient to remove the element of surprise.”

Airk positioned himself to face you. “I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

“I haven’t either,” you lied, thinking back to the innocent kisses you shared with Kit as children. Despite her spicy personality, she had always tasted so sweet. You wondered if Airk would taste just as sweet.

Before you knew it, Airk had leaned in and connected his mouth to yours. His lips were wet, soaked with spit, and his coarse stubble scratched at your chin. He didn’t taste sweet; he barely tasted like anything at all. There was no buzzing in your ears, nor bursts of warmth in your chest, just two mouths collided in a dispassionate exchange.

When Airk pulled away, you felt like crying. He stared at you expectantly. “Was that alright?”

You stared back at him, trying to suppress the nauseous feeling in your stomach. As he waited for your response, all you could think about was how different it was from kissing Kit, how you had never longed for him in the same way, and if you were arranged to marry his sister instead of him, would you be as upset?

Your mind raced with memories of Kit: stolen kisses behind trees, late night sneakaways, sharing secrets under covers. You thought back to when Kit introduced you to lewd literature, remembering how those pictures of women made you feel. Realization hit you like a punch in the gut, causing you to clutch your stomach and audibly gag.

Airk frowned. “Was it not?”

Tears welled up in your eyes. “I have to go.”

You stood up and practically fled from the courtyard, leaving Airk to sit alone, his face crumpled with hurt and immersed in a flood of confusion.

Frigid winds whipped your tear-stained face as you dashed through the outskirts of the castle, your footsteps echoing against the pavement. Your mind raced, a mixture of flashbacks and fear swarming this newfound epiphany. When you reached the castle entrance, you burst through the doors, darting past your parents and ignoring the questions they fired at you.

You had to find her. You needed to speak with her.

Rushing up the stairs, you ran through the corridors, past your own bedchamber, and paused in front of another. You doubled over, resting your hands on your knees in an attempt to catch your breath, heart pounding like a stampede of wild horses.

Finally somewhat calm, you stood straight, gazing not at the door, but at the nothingness that stood between you and it. With a deep breath, you disregarded all knowledge of basic etiquette and threw open the door, not bothering to knock.

“Kit!” You cried.

Startled, Kit whipped around to face the door, not expecting visitors. Upon seeing you, her face darkened. “Oh, you again. What have you come here for?”

“Kit, please, I need to talk to you…”

“Why?” Kit interrupted. “Because you need help planning your wedding? Are you here to boast about marrying my brother? How you’re going to live happily-ever-after and have hundreds of children? Would you like name suggestions?”

“You don’t understand…” you tried to swallow the lump growing in your throat. “I can’t marry Airk.”

Kit seemed taken aback by your admittance, but her demeanor quickly hardened again. “I hadn’t realized the Tanthalos blood wasn’t good enough for you.”

“That is not the reason…”

“My apologies, your highness!” Kit exclaimed, each word dripping with venom. “I shouldn’t have assumed you would want to be the future Queen of Tir Asleen! Our lowly kingdom must not meet your impossibly high standards!”

“Would you listen to me?!” You smacked her arm, unable to stop angry tears from streaming down your face. “You have no idea what you’re talking about!”

Kit flinched upon contact, but her hostility remained unyielding. Still, she crossed her arms over her chest and squinted, waiting for your explanation.

You sniffed, choking back a sob. “Airk kissed me.”

Kit’s expression barely shifted, but her eyes momentarily flickered with confusion. “Your fiancé kissed you? How distressing.”

“You don’t understand…” you drew inward as you stared at the floor, avoiding her piercing stare. “I hated it.”

You saw Kit’s arms drop to her sides out of your peripheral vision, body language softening slightly. She took a step towards you, and you squeezed your eyes tight.

“What are you saying?”

“I don’t want to marry Airk,” you repeated, finally looking up at her. “I don’t think I want to marry any prince.”

You took a seat on the edge of her bed and wiped your tear-stricken face. Kit stood stunned for a moment before moving to your side, placing a comforting arm around your shoulders.

“Do you think you might be a…?”

The word you’d both been raised to believe was dirty sat unspoken on her lips: sapphic.

You nodded, ashamed. The idea of a woman being attracted to other women was extremely frowned upon, especially for someone of nobility like yourself. But as you sank into Kit’s touch, societal expectations no longer seemed so scary. She always did make you feel safe.

“What am I going to do?” You wondered out loud, not exactly expecting an answer. Kit pulled you in closer, staring at you with unblinking eyes. You met her gaze.

“Kit, I…”

And suddenly her mouth was on yours, taking you by surprise and making you jump. She pulled back in fear, searching your face for any sign of resistance.

“I… I’m sorry…” she sputtered. “I must have misread something…”

Not wanting her to finish that sentence, you grabbed her face and kissed her ferociously, this time taking her by surprise. She gasped against your mouth, but soon returned the kiss with as much passion as you had given.

Kissing Kit was nothing like kissing Airk. Her lips weren’t wet; they were perfectly moist, and her skin was smooth against yours. That familiar grape-juice taste from when you were kids had aged gracefully along with her, now bursting with the flavors of sweet wine. Neither of you were very experienced kissers, but it wasn’t awkward like it was with Airk; there was no clumsy collision, just two mouths exploring each other in an act of tender intimacy.

Kit picked up her movements, kissing you hungrily with a passion that almost bordered on desperation. She grabbed at your waist, pushing you down on the bed until she hovered over you. You moaned at the unexpected feeling of your head against the soft mattress, and that was all the reassurance Kit needed to keep going. She placed a hand on your stomach and started to untie the laces of your corset, moving at a snail's pace in case you were to oppose. When you didn't, she removed the restrictive garment and inched her fingers up your blouse. You gasped at the feeling of her skin against yours, but when she pulled away to check in, you immediately brought her back to you, not wanting her to stop for anything.

You writhed underneath her as she explored the skin underneath your blouse. Longing coursed through your veins, each brush of her fingertips feeling like the warmth of a thousand suns. When she grazed her thumb across a particularly sensitive area, you moaned into her mouth, lifting your hips and pressing your core into her body. She shivered under the newfound contact, pulling away and looking down at you with apprehension.

“I’ve never really done anything like this before,” she admitted.

“P-pardon?” You sputtered through labored breaths, your body craving her in a way it had never craved anyone before.

“This…” she gestured at both of your bodies. “…is all new to me.”

“Likewise,” you whispered before leaning in to reassure her with a gentle kiss. “We don’t have to do anything more than this tonight. I promise I’m enjoying myself.”

Kit seemed to relax. “Would that be alright?”

“Truly,” you replied, because it was. It was more than alright. It was perfect.

Tag List: @chloepricesgirl @canmargesimpson @yourelliewillms @valenftcrush @camilleee222 @prettygirlfemme @slaytillieswooo @love4lyn @joanvisitsrome @athenalive @mih11 @j-pacifica @everybodyhatesari @vii-ofswords @sophi4v13

[lilacgaby]

lucky me.

prohero!kirishima x reader

you always seemed to attract bad luck, yet you think your life might be turning around as you reconnect with light itself.

today was going horrible, just like every other day.

because of your quirk, luck, everyone's luck around you would be exponentially boosted. everyone, even the people who you hated would be lucky if they were within a 20-mile radius of you. you couldn't control it.

every single lottery won has been because someone was close to you, paychecks would come early, coins would always flip on heads, everyone in your class would always pass exams.. you get the deal.

the drawback? you'd have horrible luck your entire life.

as a kid, you'd trip and scrape your knees everyday. under pressure your voice would crack, or the tears you'd been attempting to hide would come out bursting, making you shake as you tried to speak.

the swings you'd use would snap, the slides would always burn you. your shoelaces would untie and make you fall. you'd always fall flat on your nose and have your nose bleed at the worse times. the only refuge from this? eijiro, who never seemed to mind. he'd call you brave for still doing those things despite knowing you'd get hurt.

he admired you, developing rose-tinted glasses for all things surrounding you over the years. in junior high, he'd hang around you still. he was a bit shy himself at this age, but he never failed to help you.. even as you tripped into a garbage can for the third time this week.

you hung out constantly, you were always at his home and his two mothers adored you. always up in his room as he tried to sing, as he fanboyed over crimson riot with you. you were even the one who dyed his hair, much to his mother's disdain.

you were there when he got accepted into U-A, he hugged you, calling you his good luck charm.

but after that, it seemed life had finally had to take the one good thing in your life away from you. obviously, you couldn't attend U-A, you had slept in the day general studies took their entrance exams, so you ended up in some run of the mill high school that didn't specialize in anything in particular.

eijiro was born a star, you knew it was pointless to love someone like that. someone who was destined for something more than you can dream of.

so you let your friendship die. as his messages to you came fewer and fewer, you let the memories of the good times he'd bring to you be the only remnants of your relationship, so that you could let him fly like he deserved.

after a quirk consultation way too late in your life, you managed to decrease your bad luck by 50%. it made all the difference in your life, allowing you to be in the middle top of your class, and let you get a job as a quirk consultant yourself.

you worked your way up for years, finally getting your bad luck down to 22%, just low enough to start your own consultant company that focused on quirks that would harm the users and cause prejudice against them.

everything was finally good. you were finally happy.

until red riot came crashing through the windows of your front door, the fight entering the office that was thankfully closed since it was a sunday.

"hey! what the hell?!"

"sorry 'bout that! watch out!"

there was a slab being chucked in your direction, just as it was about to hit.. red riot blocked it with a bit of hardening from his quirk. his face was colored with recognition as he saw you, but first,

"[name]?? wait, let me beat this guy first-"

"don't do it in my office!"

"too late for that--"

the villain, a sledgehammer.. man(?), had started removing huge pieces of cement from the inner workings of your wall. before he could get to attacking, your luck started to go to work. because of your consultations, you could now choose who your luck would effect,

but it'd bring your bad luck back to 100%.

eijiro, now unbreakable, easily beat the guy. he carried him out to the streets full of police that took him into custody.

he went back to normal, looking back at you. you were reeling, looking at the months worth of damage done. he went up to place a hand on your shoulder.

"i-im real sorry [name]. but hey, at least i got to see you right?"

"my company is destroyed."

"y-yeah, but hey! could be worse! you could be uh-- dead or something."

you sighed at that. "i guess you're right.. thanks red ri--"

"eijiro." he corrected, adamant as he held you by the shoulders.

"eijiro. thank you for saving my life.. even if my place is wrecked. and my favorite elephant pot too.." he looked genuinely distraught at not having been able to see the pot. "hey, i have an idea to get cheered up!"

she looked hopeful, wanting a moment away from the legal mess she'd have to go through to request funds to rebuild her place. "what is it?"

- - -

so he invited you on a date. can you blame him? you looked even more beautiful than he remembered.

he had the biggest crush on you since junior high. he just thought you were the cutest thing, you were so nice, so sweet to him. everytime you did everything his heart would leap out of his chest.

and this rang true at the date he organized at his new house: a large mansion, decked out in a classier version of his favorite 'manly' style of furniture, with the help of an interior designer of course.

he let you inside, he was letting you sleep in one of his spare rooms since your apartment that was on the second floor of your office was now deemed unsafe.

he had a small, yet probably more expensive than your house itself, dinner prepared for you two.

there were more dishes set out on the table than you think you've had your entire life. as you two caught up, laughed, and slowly became more comfortable like you used to be, he felt his heart soar.

you noticed your bad luck was dropping even faster than it would normally in his presence. it had already become 21% from 100%.

it took you a year to get it that low the first time. you looked at the ceiling thoughtfully, being pulled out of your thoughts by eijiro's joke flexing.

he brought out the final meal. as you two shared a comically huge piece of cake, you laughed at the realization.

he was your good luck charm, as much as your were his.

[hp-hcs]

am just gonna bombard you with requests until instructed otherwise because i've found my new favourite writer✨

but how about the theo's x obscurus male reader (yandere or not, both theo's or not) honestly i'll gobble up whatever given - yxdls

freaks — yandere! theodore nott x obscurial! male! reader

tws: implied/referenced child abuse; snape being a dick

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

To be honest, nobody had really ever noticed Y/N L/N until he came back from winter break with a black eye and a broken nose; and with just one snide comment from a certain Potions professor, he promptly exploded into the most terrifying thing any of them had ever seen.

An Obscurus.

It’d been the first class back from the break. Someone clearly must’ve hated the fifth years, because the new schedule listed Potions as the first class on a Monday morning. Exhausted, all of the fifth years had trudged in and taken a seat, too tired to care about any accidental inter-house mingling.

Professor Snape was having none of it. His beady eyes flashed as he surveyed his class of half-asleep teenagers.

“When an adult says good morning, it is polite to respond.”

“Good morning, Professor Snape,” the class mumbled in a completely exasperated tone.

His lip had curled back into a sneer. Opening his mouth to, presumably, berate the class, he was interrupted by the late arrival of a student.

“Mr. L/N. How wonderful of you to join us. We surely wouldn’t want to waste any more of your precious time.”

The boy in the doorway tried to shrink in on himself. He looked so small and lost with that busted up nose and eye. He started to make an apology, but made it barely two words in before Snape struck again.

“Perhaps it would be beneficial for you all to take a note of Mr. L/N as living proof that Charles Darwin’s theory was not without some error. Mr. L/N, if you would research the term natural selection and write ten inches of parchment on the subject. You can turn it in to me tomorrow morning. Take a seat.”

The boy’s cheeks burned with embarrassment and shame as he scrambled to a seat in the back row.

“Natural selection,” the professor intoned. “The riddance of those who are not well-suited to their environment. That is, abnormalities or freaks of nature.”

The class glanced back at the previously unknown boy. Who was this kid? Why did Snape have a vendetta against him?

Something in the ashamed boy’s eyes flashed. At the word ‘freaks’, he visibly broke.

A low rumble filled the classroom, making Snape pause mid-sentence. With a resounding crack, the flagstones just inches from the professor’s feet split and shattered, like someone had taken a sledgehammer to them.

Snape jumped back, his head snapping up in a panic. The walls began to shake and rumble threateningly. From the belittled boy in the back row, an odd dark mist was beginning to form, slowly swirling around his body before engulfing him completely.

The kids around him scrambled away in a panic, the entire class rushing to the doors. Theodore sat still, stunned as he watched the terrifying scene.

One of his friends tugged on his sleeve, shouting something that was immediately swallowed by the sound as the odd swirling mist began to pick up speed, whipping papers and quills around the room.

The crack that ran through the flagstone floor began to spread with an ominous rumbling, the stone walls beginning to shake and spiderweb with fractures. A dust cloud of debris emanated from every fissure, choking up the air and reducing any visibility.

A sound, like a small child crying, seemed to echo around the room. Theo, stuck in place, watched with wide eyes as the mist- no, whirlwind, began growing, getting more and more violent.

The whirlwind lashed out, reducing Snape’s desk to splinters. The crying got louder, and a sharp burst of magic from the whirlwind sent Theodore flying, hitting the ground hard and scrambling for cover under a table.

For just a split second, so fast that Theo barely had time to notice, the mist of the whirlwind parted, revealing a white glowing form in the center. The form was vaguely humanoid in shape, curled up on the ground in the fetal position with its hands clasped tight over its ears. Its shoulders heaved with the force of its sobs, and then it was gone, swallowed back up by the storm.

Theo wracked his brain for the beaten boy’s name, scrabbling for any memory he had of the kid who had always previously gone unnoticed.

“Y/N!”

The storm…paused, sort of. The debris that had been in the process of being thrown across the room halted midair, hanging suspended for a split second before whipping back around with a stronger fury.

The shattering of glass made Theo instinctively cover his face, smashed potions and vials sending shards of certain death flying through the air.

“Y/N! Y/N, you have to stop!” Theodore shouted, pleaded.

The storm howled with shrieking fury, leaking anguish and total despair.

“Y/N! He’s wrong about you!”

A chair was sent hurtling towards him.

Ducking, Theo continued talking, raising his voice over the wailing of the storm.

“I want to help, Y/N!”

The storm paused again, for longer this time. A cauldron, suspended midair just inches from whacking into Theo’s skull, dripped some sort of potion onto his leg, burning something awful.

That was a problem for a different time, Theo figured.

“I want to! I want to help! You don’t deserve to be treated the way you are!”

The storm drew back a bit, the iron cauldron clanging to the floor and spinning around in circles as the dark mist of the storm retreated.

Theo tried his last saccharine sentiment. “You deserve to be happy!”

With a loud whoosh, the storm completely vanished, quills and chairs dropping to the floor with a loud clatter. The boy—Y/N—sat on the floor in the same way as the glowing form had; fetal position, hands over his ears. His skin crackled, and dark sparks snapped and fizzed from it, although he seemed to pay no mind.

Theodore stumbled to his feet from under his table and carefully picked his way through the debris of the classroom to kneel down a comfortable distance away from the crying boy.

“Hey, hey, there you go. That’s better. Are you alright?”

Y/N looked up with a tear-stricken expression, wiping his sleeve across his face and sniffling. “‘m not a freak, I swear. Please don’t send me back.”

“You’re not,” Theo soothed. “I won’t. Snape was way out of bounds with that one.”

Y/N sniffled again, a fresh wave of tears streaming down his face. “He called me a freak.”

At the sight of the boy before him, sobbing pathetically over his douchebag teacher, Theo felt himself burn with rage.

How could anyone hurt this boy? Who’s done absolutely nothing wrong?

“I’ll make him pay, sweetheart. Don’t worry.”

[kinardstits]

(@ AO3) post 8x05.

A raindrop falls directly onto his forehead, startling Tommy into awareness.

He hates it.

With it, comes focus, and with focus, comes pain.

Mind-numbing, breathtakingly sharp pain.

He blinks at the sky, briefly wondering if he's seeing clouds or smoke.

Probably both, he distantly muses. He can hear the crackle of flames nearby, and the groan of metal at high temperatures.

The raindrop burns as it slides down his temple and Tommy blinks, wondering if it should be doing that.

There's a groan, then a snap and something hits the ground beside him, rolling down the hill he's on.

.

It hits Tommy like a sledgehammer.

It's not raining. They're not clouds. It's smoke and a broken helicopter held by twigs above him, dripping oil and fuel as the flames creep ever closer to it.

Panic chokes him as he remembers— remembers the drone, how it rattled against the rotor, the gut-churning way it caused the chopper to tilt and drop onto the forest beneath. He remembers the jostling, the pain, the fear— He remembers thinking of Evan and how he had hidden under the blankets to try and get more sleep when the other had gotten up for his earlier shift.

Tommy didn't see him leave, just felt the press of a loud, playful kiss being smacked onto the top of his head.

This isn't how he wanted to say goodbye.

Breathing through gritted teeth, Tommy rolls his head against the dirt, trying to gauge the movement. It hurts and he's hit by a sudden wave of vertigo and nausea, which tells him he hit his head on the way down.

(And he wonders, how did he get down? He can see the seatbelt, drifting in the wind above him. It's not damaged. Did he unbuckle it, and try to get out? Fell in the process? Did it malfunction? He doesn't remember.)

Lifting a hand, he tries to grope around his chest, feeling for anything sharp or sticking out or into him. He doesn't feel anything but then again, he's not feeling much.

Tommy bites his lips to keep them from wobbling. If he's numb— No, he tells himself, letting out a forceful huff. He's not thinking about it, he's not thinking of the consequences of this crash past getting out of those woods. Not yet. He needs— no, he must get away first.

So, and taking but a second to grind his teeth through it, Tommy shoves his upper body off the ground.

The scream that rips out of him is loud and shrill and he sobs into the dirt he's now facing, heaving and coughing and wondering why, why did he have to volunteer to do an organ transport, why couldn't he have let Lucy take the fucking thing—

Guilt quickly chokes him, squeezing the anger out of him.

It isn't Lucy's fault. It's not his fault. It's no one's fault but the owner of the blasted drone, flying higher than it should ever be allowed.

The mess of metal above him groans again and Tommy shelves the mental breakdown for later, putting his arms beneath him and trying to raise his torso off the floor. When that doesn't work, he tries to crawl— inch by inch, he moves, digging his fingers into hard soil and breaking his nails on rocks and roots, and it works— until it doesn't and he collapses back onto the dirt, gagging at the nausea and pain that shot up his spine.

He tries to get his legs beneath him, to dig in his boots and push, but he might as well be trying to teleport. They don't work.

His body won't work.

It hits him with startling clarity that he's going to die.

He doesn't know if the chopper's tracker is operational, pinging his location. His radio is somewhere above him, possibly crushed to smithereens. His phone, in his locker back at Harbor.

Tommy's alone, broken, and his hope lies in someone realizing their liver didn't arrive on time.

The mangled metal above him won't hold against gravity for that long.

Dropping his head, Tommy finds himself fighting back tears.

He thought that when the day came that his luck ran out, he would just— cease to exist. Die on impact, lights out, he would never even know what it was like.

Even a gas leak would have been nice. To slip away, none the wiser...

To be in the middle of nowhere, in pain, just waiting to be crushed or taken by the flames, creeping ever closer—

He finds that the one thing he never wanted to experience was to die alone.

And fuck.

Tommy almost laughs at himself, he's so fucking pathetic, because—

He would say this was the loneliest he'd ever felt, but then he'd be lying on his deathbed.

To be alone wasn't to die by himself in the woods.

To be alone was to hide in a closet, tiny feet pressed hard against the doors to stop the bogeyman from breaking in and covering his little body in hand-shaped bruises again.

What if he didn't get up after, like Mami?

To be alone was to bounce from family member to family member, smiling because he had so many willing to open their door to him but bleeding inside because none ever thought to keep him from leaving for the next.

To be alone was to be just too far away to help the man you loved, pinned to your seat by a humvee car door, as he bled to death across from you despite your begging for someone, anyone, to stop digging Tommy out and help him instead. Being KIA looked better than a dishonorable discharge under DADT, apparently.

They denied him the same mercy.

To be alone was to be surrounded by people, to laugh and cry beside them, but knowing that in the end, none of them would be there to care.

The closest he had come to it had been at 118, but then, one day, Bobby called him into his office with a grin so big and there's an opening, I already put in a good word for you, you'd fly again like you wish you could—

And what could he do to repay that kindness, that thoughtfulness, other than say yes?

In hindsight, it was worth it.

He got into a chopper again, putting him in a position that allowed him to help years later, to meet Evan at a point in his life when he could finally be himself and not choke on the hate wrapped around his soul.

But now, here he was, minutes ticking down towards the end, and Tommy was cold.

He almost wished he had the strength to turn back around, to stare death in the face but, selfishly, he decides he shouldn't have to. Why continue to struggle? Hadn't he done enough of it in forty years? Couldn't he feel peace just once?

Unbridled, Evan's grin comes to the front of Tommy's mind and he does cry then, face twisting and tears wetting the dirt beneath his cheek.

God forbid Evan had been with him for some reason — he would rather die the slowest death known to man than to have to witness anything but joy in Evan's face, least of all the apathy of the end — but, guiltily, selfishly, he wishes he were there with him.

He wishes he could bury his nose in the curve of his neck, to inhale his cologne and commit his scent to memory once more.

To wrap his wide body around Evan's back, feeling his laughter rattle his ribcage as he complained about not being able to cook like that but still doing nothing to dislodge him.

To kiss him, one last time.

To tell him Tommy loved him.

That he's sorry that he's leaving, that the last words he had given him was a simple goodnight, because that morning all that had left his mouth was a sleepy grunt.

Tommy hopes his Captain knows enough to remember to tell Evan, that he doesn't find out when he thinks Tommy has been ignoring his texts and he's left perpetually waiting at Micelli's, abandoned on date night.

Pressing his fingertips to his lips, Tommy closes his eyes, playing every single memory he has of his boyfriend in his mind until his time runs out.

.

He's yanked back to full consciousness by noise and pain, and Tommy screams, wondering if he had ever been that much of a bastard once that the universe couldn't have let him die on impact when the chopper finally fell on him—

But then there are hands in his and blue eyes in his periphery and Tommy thinks, hey maybe the universe isn't so bad, he got to see the man he loved as he crossed over—

And all turns black.

.

.

.

When Tommy next opens his eyes, it's dark and he's in a sterile room, staring up at the ceiling fixtures.

His neck is stiff in a way he knows is in a brace, he doesn't have a pillow, and the mattress is as solid as concrete.

He still can't feel anything below the waist.

... Hell sucks.

He must make some noise because the bedside lamp turns on and, by the time he can crack his eyes open without his head killing him, Evan and Eddie are staring down at him, eyes wide and red-rimmed.

"Tommy?" Evan whispers, and it sounds so good after the oppressing silence of those woods that Tommy briefly stops seeing him anymore, blinded by the tears that rush out of him. "Tommy."

Fingers are curling around his, on both hands, but while a set is wide and calloused, the other is longer and bonier, but no less firm. "Does it hurt?" Eddie asks, rubbing a soothing circle into Tommy's wrist. "We can call the nurse—"

"M'dead?"

"No," Evan shakes his head, never taking his eyes off him. "We got you. Broke a few speeding limits and maybe a couple of laws to get to you—"

"We did drive the truck straight through some corn fields—" Eddie jokes, trying to lighten the mood.

"—But we got you." Evan finishes, leaning down to press a kiss to Tommy's knuckles. "And Tom—" he seems to struggle, bottom lip trembling. "There's no universe in which we wouldn't get there on time, ok? Not one." Another kiss. "We got you. I got you."

Tommy wonders if he had been delirious when they found him, what kind of pathetic drivel he let slip, but before he could stop it, he lets out a last selfish— "Yea?"

Evan seems to crumble a little, and Tommy nearly takes it back, but the other gathers the pieces and nods, blinking back tears as well. "Always."

"You're stuck with us," Eddie finishes, a look of understanding on his face so sharp Tommy fears that if he stares for long enough, he'll bleed out, "You've signed the contract, man. You're family."

Evan perks up. "Speaking of—"

"I got it." Eddie stands then, giving his hand one last squeeze and leaning across the bed to knock his forehead against Tommy's. It's a simple touch but it takes everything still in him not to sob at the gentleness of it all. "Everyone's waiting outside. I'll let them know you're awake." Eddie pulls back, smiling, before he leaves his field of view.

He's crying as soon as the door clicks closed, ugly broken noises escaping him as the mattress dips slightly and Evan curls his arm around his torso, pressing his lips to his temple with a ferocity that gold-seals some of the cracks within him.

Family.

He could get used to that.

(@ AO3)

[bat-mom-writer]

Bat Baby: Part 4

Pregnant Reader(wife) X Bruce Wayne(husband)

Summery: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, and Tim Drake, find their pregnant non-biological mother missing, how would they react?

(I do not own any DC characters)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

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

"Hey, mom, I got your ice cream," Dick called out as he pushed open the bedroom door, the ice cream in his hand. The room was bathed in the soft glow of the moon, the curtains fluttering gently in the cool night breeze. He paused, the sight before him not at all what he had expected. The bed was empty, the covers thrown haphazardly aside, and the room was eerily still.

His heart skipped a beat as he scanned the room, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. "Mom?" he whispered into the quiet, his voice tentative. The only answer was the muffled sound of the television from the living room.

With a frown, he stepped into the hallway, calling out for her again. The house felt too still, the silence a stark contrast to the usual hum of activity that filled the Wayne Manor. He made his way through the corridors, his footsteps echoing through the empty halls. He checked the bathroom, the nursery, the kitchen, the study, the library, and even the fucking batcave, but she was nowhere to be found. His heart was racing now, fear blooming in his chest. Something was wrong; he could feel it in his bones.

The ice cream slipped from his grip, the containers of mint chocolate chip ice cream spilling out onto the floor. They landed with a soft thud, the lid popping off one of them, the cool sweetness immediately making a spill on the floor. Dick barely registered the mess as he sprinted down the hallway, the urgency in his steps echoing off the high ceilings.

Entering the living room, he found Tim and Jason still engrossed in their show, their backs to the door. "Guys," he said, his voice tight with anxiety. "Where's mom?"

They both swiveled around, their expressions mirroring his own concern. "What do you mean?" Tim asked, his eyes looking to Jason, and back to Dick.

Jason leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "Didn't she go to bed?"

"Yes! But then Bruce sent me to get ice cream and when I come back she was gone!" Dick exclaimed, his voice laced with panic.

"Did you look anywhere else?" Tim asked, his brow furrowed.

"Everywhere!" Dick said, frantically. "The whole house! She's not here!"

"She's a fucking pregnant woman, she couldn't have gotten far," Jason murmured, his voice a mix of annoyance and concern. "Maybe she just went for a walk or something."

"At one in the morning?" Tim echoed. "It's not like her to just wander off, especially in her condition."

Jason stood up, his posture rigid. "Bruce should know where she is," he said, his voice laced with accusation. "Where is he?"

Dick's mind raced as he thought back. "He said he had to check something in the garage," he recalled, the memory feeling distant and fuzzy. "That was when I came into the house the ice cream."

"Go find him, Dick!" Jason barked, his eyes flashing with urgency. "Tim and I will look outside."

"Don't bother," Damian said, his voice cutting through the tension as he leaned against the doorframe, his eyes heavy with a knowing that didn’t quite suit his age. "They're already gone."

The words hit Dick like a sledgehammer, knocking the wind from his lungs. "What?" he choked out, his eyes wide with shock.

"They left," Damian confirmed, his voice eerily calm. "I saw them drive off."

"What the hell?" Dick says, his mind racing. "Why wouldn't they tell us?"

"Is she okay?" Tim's voice was strained with worry as he stared at Damian.

Damian's expression doesn't waver. "They're on their way to the hospital," he says, his voice as calm as a lake on a still night. "Her water broke."

The words hit the others like a sucker punch. Tim's eyes widen, and he takes a stumbling step back. "What?" he gasps, his hand flying to his mouth. "We need to get to the hospital."

"Father told me to not let you go until he calls," he says, his voice devoid of its usual smugness.

The realization hits Dick like a truck. "Wait, you know the whole time?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Spill the beans you little shit," Jason grabs Damian by his shirt and pulls him up, his eyes blazing with a mix of fear and anger.

Damian shrugs, his eyes meeting Jason's. "They didn't want to alarm us," he says, his voice a little too calm for the situation. "They thought we'd make a scene."

"Make a scene?!" Jason's voice rises, his grip on Damian's shirt tightening. "Make a fucking scene?! I'll show you a scene!" He shoves Damian away from him, the force enough to send the younger boy stumbling backward.

Dick moves quickly, pulling Jason back before he can do any more damage. "Jason, stop!" he snaps, his voice filled with a command that he rarely uses. "We need to focus on finding them, not fighting with each other."

Tim nods, his eyes wide with a mix of shock and fear. "He's right," he says, his voice shaking slightly.

Jason's eyes narrow, and his jaw clenches. "I don't care what this little boy says, I'm going," he says, his voice a low growl.

Dick grabs his arm, his eyes pleading. "Jason, please," he begs. "It's what mom wanted."

Jason's gaze darts to Damian, then back to Dick, his anger slowly morphing into understanding. "Fine," he says, his voice gruff.

"Good," Dick says, letting out a sigh of relief. "We'll wait for Bruce's call. And when he does, we're going to be calm. No panicking, no shoving," He glances from Damian and Jason. "We need to be there for her, not cause more stress."

They all nod, and sit on the couch, the leather cool against their skin. The room feels suffocatingly quiet, the air thick with unspoken anxiety. The only sounds are the distant wail of a siren and the occasional beep from the security monitors. Each one of them stares straight ahead, lost in their own thoughts.

Hours later, the Dick's phone rang.

Next

Writer's note: Gonna be honest I see a lot of other wristers naming the daughter of Reader X Bruce, Martha, and I'm sorry, but I don't really love the name. Can I PLEASE have some other girl names idea? Then I'll make a Part 5.

[drewharrisonwriter]

One Day at a Time - Ch. 5: Late-Night Cravings

Pairings: Dave York x Female Reader

Series Summary: A man washed ashore, with no memory, and no name, finds a home and a life in the middle of nowhere.

Author's Notes: This story has been sitting in my drafts for over a year, waiting for the perfect moment to see the light of day. It wasn't until recently that I found the inspiration to finally finish the last two chapters, thanks to the incredible Keri @absurdthirst. Her story, "Washed Up," struck a chord with me—it had such a similar plot and concept to what I had in mind, and it reignited my passion to bring this piece to life. Keri's writing has been a constant source of solace and inspiration, and I'm endlessly grateful for her creativity and the way she crafts stories that speak to the soul. If you haven’t checked out her work, you absolutely should!

Warnings: Please be aware that this story contains elements of violence, explicit sexual content, and pregnancy. Additionally, there are medical inaccuracies throughout—because I don’t work in the medical field, so please take it all with a grain of salt. Enjoy the ride, and thank you for reading! 😊

Read this on AO3 | Check out my Masterlist

It was the third night in DC when you suddenly craved for something you would normally just crave when you’re nearing your period. You were lying in bed, Dave dozing peacefully beside you, when the sudden urge for something sweet and salty jolted you awake. You tried to ignore it, but after a few minutes of tossing and turning, you gave in.

“Dave,” you whispered, gently nudging him.

He grunted, blinking sleepily. “What’s up?”

“I need something from the store,” you admitted, feeling a little sheepish. 

“What? Now?”

You nodded eagerly. “I need it, and I can’t sleep.”

He rubbed his eyes, sitting up. “What do you need?”

You thought for a moment. “Ice cream… and maybe some chips.”

He chuckled, swinging his legs out of bed. “Well, let’s go then.”

The grocery store was quiet, the aisles nearly empty as you wandered through, scanning the shelves for your late-night snacks. You and Dave chatted softly, the fluorescent lights overhead casting a soft glow on the products lining the shelves.

“I still don’t get how you can eat chips and ice cream together,” Dave teased, reaching for a bag of kettle chips.

“Hey, don’t knock it until you try it,” you shot back, grinning as you grabbed a pint of your favorite ice cream.

As you made your way down another aisle, laughing quietly together, you barely noticed the woman who was slowly approaching from behind. She seemed to hesitate, her eyes narrowing as she looked at Dave, as if trying to place him.

“Dave?” she called out, her voice tentative but curious.

You both did not pay it any attention until the woman was standing beside you. 

You both froze for a moment as she looked at him and repeated the name, catching you both off guard. You exchanged a puzzled glance with Dave, who shrugged it off, assuming it was meant for someone else.

But the woman didn’t stop. She walked even closer, her expression one of disbelief as she reached out and placed a hand on Dave’s shoulder, getting in between you two. “Dave, is that really you?”

Dave looked down at the woman, a polite but confused smile on his face. “I’m sorry, you must have me confused with someone else.”

The woman’s eyes widened, her hand flying to her mouth as if to stifle a gasp. “No… no, it’s you. I’d know you anywhere. Dave, it’s me—Carol.”

The name hit Dave like a sledgehammer, a wave of something dark and unplaceable washing over him. Anger, confusion, and a deep-seated sense of wrongness twisted in his gut as he stared at the woman, his brow furrowing. “I’m sorry, but I’m not Dave,” he said, his voice steady but firm. “You’ve got the wrong person.”

But Carol shook her head, her eyes pleading as she stepped closer. “No, I’m your wife. You… you disappeared, and I thought… oh my God, I thought you were dead. We had a funeral–”

“Wife?” Dave’s voice was strained, the word feeling foreign and jagged in his mouth. His hands balled into fists at his sides, a cold fury rising within him that he couldn’t quite understand. “I don’t know you,” he said again, his tone sharp, almost desperate.

You watched the exchange with growing concern, your heart pounding in your chest. This was the moment you’d feared—the moment when the past would come crashing into the fragile life you’d built together. But as much as it terrified you, you knew you had to step in.

“Excuse me,” you said, stepping forward and gently placing a hand on Dave’s arm. “This is all very confusing, but maybe we should take a step back and talk about this calmly.”

Carol looked at you, her eyes flickering with a mix of surprise and suspicion. “Who are you?” she demanded, her voice edged with accusation.

“I’m…” you hesitated, glancing at Dave before deciding to defuse the situation. “I’m a friend. Listen, this isn’t the place for this. Why don’t we meet tomorrow over dinner and talk about it? Here’s my card.” You reached into your bag and handed her a business card, your hand trembling slightly.

Dave looked at you, his eyes searching yours for guidance, for reassurance. “I don’t want to meet with her,” he muttered under his breath, the tension in his voice clear. “I don’t even know her.”

You squeezed his arm gently, giving him a look that you hoped conveyed both understanding and firmness. “I know,” you whispered back. “But it’s important...”

Carol took the card, her fingers brushing yours as she did. “Tomorrow,” she agreed, her voice shaky. “I’ll text you.”

You nodded, offering her a small, tight smile. “Tomorrow.”

As you turned to leave, you felt Dave’s anger simmering just beneath the surface. It wasn’t just confusion—it was something deeper, something raw and visceral that he couldn’t seem to control.

“I’ll go check out our stuff,” you said softly, giving Dave a moment to collect himself. “I’ll wait for you in the car.”

He gave a curt nod, his jaw clenched as he turned back to Carol, who was watching him with a mixture of longing and disbelief. You could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on you, but there was nothing more you could do at that moment.

As you walked toward the checkout, you tried to steady your breathing, to push down the rising tide of anxiety that threatened to overwhelm you. Passing by the pharmacy aisle, your hand hesitated for just a moment before you reached out and grabbed a pregnancy test, slipping it into your basket alongside the snacks.

You paid for your items and headed out to the car, your mind racing with thoughts of what had just happened and what it could mean for the future. The night air was cool against your skin as you waited in the car, your fingers drumming nervously on the steering wheel.

When Dave finally joined you, slipping into the passenger seat with a tense sigh, you could feel the storm brewing between you. But for now, you both sat in silence, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air, the weight of what was to come pressing down on you both.

–

The drive back to the hotel was filled with a tense, uncomfortable silence. He stared out the window, his jaw clenched, his mind clearly racing. You could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on both of you, but neither of you spoke until you were back in the privacy of your hotel room.

The moment the door closed behind you, he turned to you, his expression a mix of frustration and fear. “I don’t want to meet her,” he said, his voice tight with tension. “This is all too much, too fast.”

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your own emotions in check. “I know it’s a lot, but if she really is who she says she is, then you have to meet with her. You owe it to yourself to find out the truth.”

He shook his head, pacing the length of the room. “But what if she really is my… my wife? What does that mean for us?”

You watched him, your heart aching at the fear and confusion in his eyes. “We don’t know anything for sure yet,” you said gently. “But you have to meet with her… You need to know who you really are, where you come from.”

He stopped pacing and looked at you, his expression pained. “And what if that means I have to leave the farm? Leave you?”

The sadness in his voice was almost too much to bear, but you forced yourself to stay strong for him. You offered him a small, sad smile, stepping closer to place a hand on his arm. “If that’s what you need to do, then we’ll figure it out. But you can’t ignore this. Not if you want to move forward.”

He swallowed hard, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt. “I don’t want to lose this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to lose you.”

You felt tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them back, determined to stay strong. “And I don’t want to lose you either,” you said softly. “But we both know that you need to do this. You need to meet with her, hear what she has to say. And I’ll be right there with you,”

He looked down, his shoulders slumping as he let out a heavy sigh. “Okay,” he finally said, his voice laced with resignation. “Okay… we’ll meet her.”

You reached up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly over his skin. “Whatever happens, we’ll face it together.”

Next Chapter 👉🏻

[jenniferjareauwife]

I hate Andrew and would love the rage room 😂🤬

Rage Room

pairing: jennifer jareau x daughter reader

category: fluff

warnings: none

word count: 646

age: 16

summary: your mom brings you to a rage room

I saw my mom through the window of the rage room and smiled. She had her phone out, recording me. I had taped a picture of Andrew's face to the glass table I was about to absolutely demolish. I put on my goggles and watched her count down until I started smashing the sledgehammer against the glass table, smiling as I saw the glass fly everywhere, imagining it was Andrew.

It didn't time long for me to destroy everything in the room, and once I did I walked outside and high fived my mom, taking off my glasses. "With the amount of enjoyment I felt doing that I wouldn't be surprised if I were to turn out to be a serial killer."

"I don't want to have to send you to jail so I'm going to pretend like I never heard that." I laughed and looked through the window again, seeing the flash shards everywhere and the shredded picture of Andrew.

"I want him to see it."

"If he does he's going to file for a restraining order." She pointed out.

"Well...maybe I can hit him with a sledgehammer instead."

"Well...then you'd be in prison for murder."

"But since I'm not 18 yet it would be expunged from my records once I turned 18."

"Not if you intentionally murder someone." She put her arm around my shoulders, kissing my temple as we walked out of the building.

"But what if it was accidental?"

"I don't think the judge would buy that."

"Mom! You're supposed to be on my side here!" I protested, getting into the car with a disappointed look on my face. "I wish I didn't date a stupid piece of shit for a year." I slumped down in my seat.

"Me too. But you're not dating him anymore. So it's ok."

"I know but I wasted a year on him. Imagine if I had been with the right person. I would be so much happier."

"Yeah." My mom sighed and patted my knee. "Well...it might take you a while to find your person."

"Wow. That makes me feel so much better." I said sarcastically.

"I'm 43 and I still haven't found my person. But I'm so happy with you! You're all I need." She grabbed my hand.

"But what if I don't have kids? What if I'm just alone?"

"You're 16. You have so much time to find the right person for you." She started the car and backed out of the parking lot. "You're not expected to find the love of your life in high school." I sighed, leaning my head against the window. "It's gonna be ok, you know? Now that you dated someone like Andrew you know the red flags for people like him." She pointed out.

"Yeah. I guess."

"It's gonna be alright honey." We finally arrived home and I was so glad to just be home and spend time with my mom. She put her hand on my upper back and led me upstairs to my room. We both laid down on my bed and she grabbed my laptop from my nightstand, handing it to me so I could type in my password. I pulled up Gilmore Girls and leaned into my mom, hugging her arm tightly.

"Thanks for taking me to the rage room. I really needed that. I've felt so angry for so long and it felt amazing to finally be able to get it all out."

"Of course honey." She kissed the top of my head. "It always feels nice to relieve your anger. Especially when it's about a shitty boyfriend."

"You had a shitty boyfriend?"

"Mhm. Many. A lot of lessons learned." I sighed and leaned into her more. "But it's gonna be ok, yeah?"

"Yeah...I guess."

"It will be. No I guess."

"Ok...it'll be ok."

"I love you sweetie."

"I love you too mom."

[taistelutaide]

Tuomas knocks out the rest of the losers

Tuomas is still challenging all comers... and the men fresh off their last tournament losses are eager to take him up on it. Everyone he's already crushed is too afraid to stand up to Tuomas again, but for the rest of the men it's still a matter of pride, and each guy's going after the bragging rights if they manage to take the cocky bully down even in an unofficial bout. After all, they've got nothing left to lose...

Other than consciousness.

And after seeing these guys pounded by a massive man like Tuomas whose punches hit like a literal sledgehammer, the previous guys he kayoed feel lucky they went down after only one punch, rather than be on the receiving end of the ruthless beating Tuomas now delivers to teach the gammas a hard and fast lesson in male hierarchy...

Starting with Aleksi, sent flying by Tuomas's signature left hook...

Teuvo lasts a bit longer, before a right sends him to sleep...

Nikolas doesn't even make it out of his own corner...

Neither does Verner, sent back through the ropes by the last blow...

Paul puts up quite a fight before catching a crushing right straight...

Rauno bends over backward from the force of the knockout punch...

And another left hook sends Ralf straight to dreamland...

Jussi goes toe to toe, and Tuomas beats him senseless...

As does Viljami, whose eyes are closed before he even goes down...

Pekka's the next man to go over the ropes from the finishing blow...

As does pretty boy Mikko, hard as a rock below the belt as he does...

Same for Juha, too lightweight to keep his feet as he eats a hook...

While Lauri and Jonne each gasp in agony as they get dominated...

And Kalle and Simon are so out of it they flail like ragdolls as Tuomas knocks them silly around the ring...

Kai gets absolutely crushed...

Niko gets knackered...

Leevi's lights are long gone...

And if Otso weren't already considering retirement, Tuomas has definitely given him something to sleep on...

Oliver's completely outgunned, and a hard right bends him over backward on the ropes...

And as Natanael gets nailed he joins the club of men who for all intents and purposes are literally shown to be flyweights...

As does Felix, flung this way and that by Tuomas's massive fists...

Konsta's kayoed in the first few seconds...

Tommi twists as he falls to the floor...

Touko's last gasp is barely louder than the force of the punch...

Ukko's unconscious the moment Tuomas's fist finds his face...

Vesa is easily vanquished...

August will be aching after he wakes up from that jab...

And last but not least, Alex catches his arm over the ropes as he gets clobbered, holding him up as Tuomas pummels him in the face so many times you could almost forget he isn't just a speed bag. After now knocking out a full half of the men in the entire tournament, it's clear from the smug satisfaction in his eyes as he finishes off the last of them that Tuomas is in this purely for the masculine thrill of sending lesser men to sleep, and showing he can dominate anyone in the ring.

[ja-khajay]

Tagged by @ervona to post about 5 songs I've been listening to lately! Making a little mix and match playlist based on the half dozen tracks on my phone and songs I've recently discovered. I will detail a bit about each under the cut :)

Nouar - Cheika Rimitti (rai)

Twilight of the Thunder god - Amon Amarth (metal)

What's Golden - Jurassic 5 (hiphop)

Sledgehammer - Peter Gabriel (pop)

Potions - Puscifer (? rock ?)

NOUAR

A few months ago, the combination of discovering a rai playlist on Spotify based on an artist I listen to with friends and another discovery of a radio station that exclusively plays north african and middle eastern music, the latter which became my go-to listen on the way from work for a while, I discovered this specific track. It's a huge niche hit, unknown to the general public but racking up in the millions of views online among fans of the genre and it's easy to see why! This is an absolutely hypnotic track which cleverly layers it's intrument with a catchy sung melody, periodically cut by the rythmic choir repeating its title. The main singer in the dialog has an outstanding voice and this all makes for a looping, hooking listening experience that makes you want to play it forever.

Twilight of the Thunder God

In a very different vibe, we have a track that perfectly matches it's overdesigned, historically based (yet inaccurate) cheesy madness of an album cover. This is the only song if this band I'm familiar with as a big hit. Power metal is among some of my favorite genres of music of all time, especially in it's overbearing energy and gratuitous use of double-pedals on the kick drum, fast bass and general theatrics. While I'm not a fan of growled vocals, this track compensates in my mind with one of THE catchiest hooks I know of in the genre. When I listen to TofTG, it's because I suddently remember it one day and get instantly compelled to download it on my phone and scream its lyrics at the sky until it leaves my head where it's stuck. This can take weeks...

What's Golden

Yet another radio discovery! I'm shamefully bad at hiphop, despite liking the genre a lot, no-one around me listened to it for ages so I don't have similar backlog as in other genres and as such as a grown adult am discovering it all with enthusiasm. This song sums up so many aspects I love in the genre which i'll definitly be using to nail what specific sub-genres are my favorite some day... catchy with a great flow and an instrumental that hooks you, it's impossible to not nod along to the beat and drop what I'm doing to listen to the full thing when it comes up on my playlist.

Sledgehammer

Yeah yeah it's a classic you all know it. And for a reason! This is one of, if not the only song I know which I can't separate from it's music video. I typically dislike MVs and prefer listening to music in pure audio format, but Sledgehammer comes with such a well crafted, wlel synched and creative film attached that it's always playing in my head when I hear it. This song was introduced to me by a mutual a few years ago which I'll be tagging in this post later as a thank you! I don't get its appeal as a dancey song, but it's definitly a track to dramatically walk to, which is probably the appeal the rest of this site sees in Once in a Lifetime...

Potions

For the nerds in the audience, this is a Reznor and Maynard collab so you know what you're getting into. The first thing that strikes me in this track is how loud the bass is - it turns the classic rock instrumental it's made from into something else that's just slightly overwhelming. And on top of that, very delicate vocals detail a raw, simple story of love and addiction. Where I chose this song above the many others of the band I'd been listening to a lot last month is this particular theme it has fits very well with a book series I'm reading right now, and it was easy for me to let my mind fly away with it on...:)

***

Runner ups: The Shame Of Life - Butthole Surfers / Ai vist to Lop - Mont-Jòia / Feuer Frei! - Rammstein / For me, Formidable - Charles Aznavour / It Mek - Desmond Dekker & the Aces

***

Tagging, your turn! @steamclouds @prolibytherium @internationalspacehobo @paristonhilll

[m323200]

2x02: Loss: Part 1

Takes like about 7 1/2 months after they broke up, and got back together a few days after. 

Luke is 17 and Isabella is 16, the month of this story is during April, last chapter/part took place during September. 

Warnings: SMUT, SEX: Luke and Isabella have sex in this story, it doesn't go on for the whole story, it's certain parts

-Inspired by season 7 episode 22 of Double Click-

p.s, since they are at the age where people at age 16 or older do sex, there might be some of some mentions in upcoming stories.

WARNING

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WARNING

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WARNING

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WARNING

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YOUR ENTERING STORY THAT HAS SMUT! 

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DONT SAY I DIDNT WARN YOU BC I DID

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The night draped the Dunphy household in an intimate cloak of darkness, punctuated only by the soft rustle of sheets and the hushed whispers of the wind outside. Restless, I shifted in bed, the weight of anticipation and nerves settling heavily in my stomach. Tonight felt different, charged with an electricity that crackled in the air, sending shivers down my spine.

Beside me, Luke's breathing was ragged, his fingers tracing patterns along my skin and touching my boobs. I felt like there was sparks flying through my veins. We had talked about this moment countless times, but now that it was here, the reality of it all seemed to loom over us like a shadow, both exhilarating and daunting in equal measure.

With a tentative touch, I reached out to brush my fingers against Luke's cheek, my heart pounding in my chest as I searched his eyes for reassurance. He met my gaze with a mixture of excitement and desire, his hand finding mine in a silent gesture of solidarity. Surprisingly his dick is more than 5 1/2 inches long. I felt very nervous and so did he as it's our first time having sex.

"We don't have to do this if you're not ready," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm against my nerves.

I shook my head, a determined glint in my eye as I squeezed his hand in return. "I want to," I whispered, my voice trembling with anticipation. "With you, I want it to be with you. Also you have a condom right?..."

"Yes" he said and his smile was tender, his touch gentle as he leaned in to press a kiss to my lips. "I love you," he whispered, his words a vow that echoed in the stillness of the night.

Luke kept doing it slowly so we don't make a noise. We probably did it fast and slow. I had both of my hand on his chest and i slowly put my hands on his abs. It felt like we were having the time of our life. But as we were caught in the moment, we made a noise. The headboard made a sound and we quickly stopped and I hid under the covers like you were sleeping. The sound of movement in the hallway jolted us from our reverie, sending a surge of panic coursing through my veins.

Luke froze beside me, his eyes widening in alarm as we both realized the gravity of the situation. We listened as Phil's footsteps drew closer, the anticipation of discovery hanging heavy in the air. 

When Phil's voice pierced the silence, a jolt of adrenaline surged through me, propelling me into action. We scrambled to compose ourselves, frantically pulling apart in a desperate attempt to conceal the truth of what had transpired, but as Phil's flashlight illuminated the room, casting harsh shadows against the walls, our facade crumbled under the weight of his scrutiny. His stunned expression mirrored my own sense of disbelief, the reality of our situation hitting me like a sledgehammer.

For a fleeting moment, time seemed to stand still as Phil's gaze locked with mine, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief. I searched for words to explain, to justify our actions, but found myself speechless in the face of his unspoken condemnation.

"Claire", Phil whispers, and he kept saying it till she wakes up. "What's going on?" Claire's voice was laced with concern as she surveyed the scene before her. Phil struggled to find the right words, his explanation stumbling over the weight of the truth.

"There's a girl in Luke's bed," he blurted out, his words tinged with disbelief. Claire's eyebrows shot up in surprise, her gaze flickering between Phil and me as she processed the revelation.

"Where's Luke?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern. Phil's response was a hesitant gesture towards the bed, his expression a mix of embarrassment and disbelief.

"In the bed with her," he explained, his voice barely above a whisper. Together, we approached Luke's bed, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on us like a heavy fog.

Before they head in, I hid in the closet and I made sure I had all my clothes because in the movies, they always leave something behind. And once they head in, Phil knew he wasn't imagining once I was gone. Phil said in a whisper-confident voice, "There was a girl in the bed with Luke!". "It was probably his Chewbacca doll that he slept with. And that's probably the only thing he'll be in bed with. Plus it's dark, and we shared an entire bottle of wine." Claire replied.

Once they left, I quietly left the closet and we, well me, decided to stop, I thought it was risky and we knew that there's a chance that us dating would get out...again. I climbed out the window and head back to Gloria and Jay's before someone I know sees me.

In the morning, I headed over to the Dunphy's house and as I watched Alex walk out, his departure leaving a void in the room, Luke's cheerful demeanor caught me off guard. His whistling filled the air, a stark contrast to the tense atmosphere that lingered in the wake of Phil's discovery.

I couldn't help but feel a pang of unease, knowing that all eyes were now on Luke, his carefree attitude drawing attention like a beacon in the darkness. Andy's playful remark only added to the mounting tension, his words echoing the unspoken truth that hung heavy in the air.

"Someone woke up in a good mood," Andy observed, his tone laced with curiosity. "And there's only one reason a teenage boy is ever like that."

Before I could process Andy's implication, Phil interjected with a forced enthusiasm that bordered on desperation. "Yeah! Because it's family camp training day," he exclaimed, his words ringing hollow in the face of our shared secret.

I watched as Phil attempted to divert attention away from the elephant in the room, his efforts a futile attempt to mask the truth that lay just beneath the surface. "Luke and I are training for the big famcathalon," Phil continued, his voice strained with forced cheerfulness. "You're carb-ing good idea buddy!"

Andy's puzzled expression mirrored my own sense of bewilderment, his confusion palpable as he struggled to make sense of Phil's erratic behavior. But deep down, I knew the truth that Phil was desperately trying to deny, a truth that threatened to unravel the fragile facade of normalcy we had constructed.

As I made my entrance, Luke's presence beside me offered a small measure of comfort, his familiar warmth a reassuring anchor in the storm. But even as he sat down next to me, his plate piled high with food, I couldn't shake the gnawing sense of apprehension that gnawed at my insides.

Luke's voracious appetite drew a chuckle from Andy, his comment a fleeting distraction from the tension that pulsed through the room. "Hungry dude!" Andy remarked, his tone light but tinged with uncertainty.

Phil saw how close Isabella and Luke were and he notice what is one their necks, he thought it was a hickey or a bump, but he seized the opportunity to steer the conversation back towards safer waters, his insistence on family camp serving as a thinly veiled attempt to avoid the uncomfortable truth that lurked just beneath the surface. "HUNGRY FOR FAMILY CAMP!" Phil exclaimed, his voice bordering on manic as he attempted to rally enthusiasm for the upcoming event.

But despite Phil's best efforts, the truth remained unspoken, hanging in the air like a heavy fog. And as I exchanged a knowing glance with Luke, our shared secret weighing heavily on our hearts, I couldn't help but wonder how long we could keep up this up until it gets loose.

[lostlegendaerie]

yesss please drabble about the dreamxxdream rinharu airport art 🙌 I love that one so much I have it printed out on my wall

[based on this piece by @dreamxxdream ]

It's been a shit day. Flying always makes him feel a little sick between the motion of the plane and the dehydration of the air pressure, and he fought with his sister over text before boarding, so he didn't get any sleep on the flight. He's come home on a coach-enforced training break after he sprained his Achilles tendon when he slipped getting out of the pool and overextended the joint, and he just got the news the stray cat they always fed had to be put to sleep. If he were a few years younger, he'd be trying not to cry in public. (He still is, but he's succeeding this time. Take that, middle school self.)

What's worse is that Haru is the one who is picking him up today. Not to say that he isn't excited to see him; he's only been in love with the guy since he was in elementary school, but the feelings have always seem to him to be one-sided. That had even been what he fought with his sister about before he left Sydney; refusing to agree with her delusions that his friend and rival was even half as excited to see Rin as Rin was to see Haru.

He knows Haru won't be there with flowers and a sign with his name on it (he would crawl under the furniture with embarrassment if he was, oh my god) and that he'll get a nod and an offer to help carry his bags and a quiet drive back to his house. It's just--

Today is the kind of day he wishes he'd get a little more than that. But it's Haru, bothering to get out of the bathtub and pick him up, so he'll be grateful about it and pretend he's not a yawning wound of a man, waiting desperately for Haru to fill him. Makoto would have been a better choice. Might have even given him a hug.

The world is still unsteady under Rin's feet when he finally makes it through customs, still adjusting the backpack straps on his back, and makes eye contact with Haru just outside the glass doors. He steps forward, a cocky smirk already stretching across his face but--

Haru isn't waiting. He's coming to meet Rin, bright-eyed and just barely stopping himself from running. Rin's expression buckles, the exhaustion and simple human need to be touched yanking him forward despite the pain in his ankle and he only barely remembers to drag his wheeled suitcase behind him as he breaks into a hobbling jog.

Rin is hit with an armful of Haruka Nanase like an emotional sledgehammer, and just that easily his emotional walls crumble. He buries his face into Haru's shoulders, tears welling up behind his eyes, and squeezes Haru back.

"I missed you," Haru says, holding him back just as tight.

"Yeah," Rin chokes.

"I'm sorry about your cat."

"Yeah," he repeats, an eloquent and mature man who is absolutely not crying in the Tokyo airport. He does, however, squeeze Haru a little tighter as he breathes in the familiar scent of honeysuckle detergent, cheap deodorant, and the ever-present tang of chlorine that forms the aromatic memory of Haru in his mind. "Me too." To all of it.

Haru doesn't let him go immediately, letting them stand there and sway gently in the chaos of the airport, lost in each other's embrace. If Rin listens, he can hear Haru's heartbeat, just a little faster than normal, and he wonders if he owes Kou an apology for more than just his tone.

"Welcome home," Haru says, and Rin laughs into his shoulder.

"It's good to be back."

[derrickwildsun]

Post-TOTK Musings (TOTK Spoilers)

I think the reason Zelda didn't burst into tears at the end of the final boss fight was because she just caught up in the moment. She was hyperfocused on the immediate results of everything that had transpired: her centuries-long plan had succeeded, Link had destroyed Ganondorf, and she was back to her normal self again and eager to tell Link about her adventures in the past.

I don’t think the full impact of everything Zelda did in the past would have hit her until she returned to Hateno and reunited with all the friendly faces she had been so accustomed to prior to the Upheaval: the villagers, the children, Symin, etc. Seeing all their faces again and returning to her and Link’s house (and maybe seeing the new one Link built for just the two of them in her absence) would probably make her realize everything she would have left behind had Link et al not reversed her draconification. She formed all those bonds with the villagers through acts of kindess and earned the love and respect of the children by giving them a genuine love of learning like the kind she had her whole life. With Link, she had carved out a home where she could live comfortably and just be herself, doing research on whatever in privacy. The realization that she would have lost all that permanently would probably hit her like a sledgehammer. She wouldn’t just feel bad about herself, but she’d consider how devastated all those people (especially Link and the schoolchildren) would have been at the possibility of her being gone forever. After struggling with feelings of low self-esteem for most of her life, she would probably realize for the first time in her life that she actually matters as a person and that Hyrule is a better place with her in it.

Zelda would also come to realize just how much Rauru and Sonia meant to her. We don’t see her grieve either of them much in-game (likely due to time constraints), but it’s possible she mourned their losses somewhat before undergoing draconfication. But imagine how she must feel about them knowing that they enabled Link to turn her back to normal after thousands of years. Thousands of years ago, they promised to help her find a way home to “put Link’s mind at ease,” and not even death stopped them from fulfilling that promise. They were the parents she had dreamed of having her whole life, and in the end they did for her what Rhoam never could: they saved her. Her love for them would increase tenfold and she’d make sure that they would never be relegated to the dustbins of history.

And of course I can’t overlook her now-increased love for Link. If she ever had any reservations or inhibitions about tying the knot with Link, those reservations would be gone for good by now. She put all her faith in him to carry out her final wish, and he succeeded with flying colors. And not only that, he never gave up on her. Most people probably would have called it fate and declared her a lost cause, but Link didn’t consider his journey over until he had Zelda, the beautiful, nerdy princess he fell in love with hundreds of years ago, back in his life. They’re ride or die for one another, and they’ll never leave each other ever again.