#i don't know what this is but i hope you like it anon

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

(genuine question sorry if it comes across as spam or trolling) is porn addiction not actually a thing? and how is it connected to terf stuff (again genuinely want to know so I don’t repeat the retoric)

No worries anon, I do not get enough asks for things to come across as spam or trolling.

But yeah no, porn addiction is not a thing. Over two decades of research has not proven a goddamn thing; rather, it's proven that it doesn't exist. [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] *note, some of these are more accessible than others and some are more specific

While those who believe in it will present what seems to be a mountain of evidence for it, their evidence is often unscientific or unreliable or uses flawed measures or uses incredibly small sample sizes, including a sample of 1 in some cases.

The actual scientific consensus is that while excessive watching of porn can be a bad habit and can negatively impact your life, you can't become addicted to it the way that you can with things like alcohol. Things like alcohol addiction or tobacco addiction are related to a significant change in the neuronal transmission in your brain. Like certain drugs mimic certain neurotransmitters and impact the neuro-receptors on either side of a synapse.

Porn doesn't do that. Or moreso, porn is not unique in how it can change your brain chemistry. Someone who spends twelve hours a day seven days a week watching reality TV doesn't have a habit inherently different to someone who spends the same amount of time watching porn.

Often excessive watching of porn is a symptom of a larger issue such as depression. Many of those who self-report as porn addicts match the primary diagnosis of depression.

Also, within research, it is often found that those who self-report a porn addiction watch the same amount of or less of porn as someone who doesn't report it, mostly because a lot of it is related to shame and guilt and not addictive behaviour.

Porn addiction as an idea is most often rooted in religiosity and not science.

It can also be rooted in terfism. Because terfs hate porn.

Their arguments against porn boil down to the idea that women cannot and should not have sexual autonomy. They dress it up obviously, but if it walks like a duck and talks like a duck, it's a misogynist.

Almost any argument against porn they make can be easily countered by the fact that all their criticisms occur in every industry that exists currently, especially so in creative industries.

The porn industry is not uniquely exploitative. If people's labour is involved, it's probably being exploited or it has the potential to be exploited. Not knowing if the person on screen was treated well on set is not unique to porn, you know how many movies I can list that included actors being treated like shit? The porn industry does not have an issue with human trafficking that is unique to any other industry; it's a massive issue in industries with manual labour. etc.

Point is, it is not inherently evil. Terfs want you to think it is though because A) they hate women and B)

To them, porn equals predatory men (they include trans women in this) exploiting poor innocent women who cannot possibly consent.

The idea of women who actively partake in sex work and enjoy doing so is mind breaking for them; they often rationalise it as the women being mentally ill and being indoctrinated by porn. The idea of porn addiction suits them well because they believe porn is inherently evil like men are.

Terfs can't perceive any situation where women are not being actively victimised by men. They are always the victims and they always need protection from men who are inherently evil and inherently predatory.

They're misogynists and idiots (and very often very racist though that's not currently relevant).

I don't know how coherent this is. It is approaching the time I go to sleep so it might be very rambly. I hope it was helpful anyway. Feel free to ask for clarification that I'll reply to in the morning.

[keylimepie]

You know, I've thought about this a lot over the years. I started participating in fandom 25 years ago, and I do remember during the LiveJournal (LJ) and forums eras that I rarely if ever heard a fanfic writer complaining about engagement and each chapter was full of comments. Then around 2010 tumblr happened and everyone migrated from LJ to tumblr. Suddenly fanfiction writers were complaining about a lack of engagement. I think this is largely because we became so centralized and lost all sense of community. It used to be you had to sign up for a website with a forum dedicated to a very specific pairing, or you had to join a livejournal community that was very specific to your interest. And the membership might reach a little under 2k. Most of these communities were locked too, so you didn't have to worry about what you said being publicly visible to folks outside your community. You knew who you were speaking to and who could see what you were saying.

Tumblr, tiktok, and twitter are more like shouting into the void and hoping someone in the crowds of 100k people take notice of you, and that task is way easier with a pretty photo or a video than with a fic. You don't know who is going to see what you're saying, and I think most of us have either experienced or witnessed someone receiving dog-piled backlash because one person misconstrued what the OP said. So basically, not only are you struggling to get attention in a massive crowd from people with incredibly short attention spans who have no idea who you are, but if you do manage to get someone's attention they may be too scared to say anything publicly. Hell they may be too scared to DM the author because they don't know the author either and I have seen authors tear apart DMs publicly because they misconstrued something that was said and now the author's fanbase is dog-piling that person. You ever notice how so many asks to authors are anon? People are scared, and it is so much safer to just like or kudo something than put yourself out there in front of a potential firing squad.

Also just want to point out, that a lot of asks people send to creators never get addressed, either because tumblr ate it, or the creator decided to ignore it, or the creator's inbox was overflowing. And after awhile people stop sending asks to not only that creator, but other creators as well because they've been receiving negative reinforcement that their engagement is undesired.

I think I saw another one of these posts floating around where it turned out people were gushing about fics in discords but not commenting on AO3 or the author's tumblr. And this kind of makes sense to me. Discords are a lot like the forums and LJ communities of old, where it is a much smaller group and you tend to know most of the people there and you feel more comfortable speaking up.

I just don't think huge centralized hubs are of the benefit to creators. It is fine to post stuff to tumblr or AO3 or wherever, but that isn't enough. If you want engagement you need to build up or join a community and cross-post there. If you're just flinging your work into the void and expecting engagement, then it just isn't going to work. Sure people will find it, but they wont feel comfortable enough to say anything where they have no control over who sees it. 20 years ago, we didn't have tumblr or twitter or even AO3, you had to find or start a community if you wanted to share your work. We had to make our own spaces not rely on corporate spaces, and I think that is what the difference is. You need to create a space where people feel safe to engage, and tumblr has NEVER been that. Tumblr has been terrible from day 1 for engagement, just toxic and mindless so often.

TLDR: No one is engaging because the sense of community is completely gone and been stripped away over the last 15 years. I cannot stress enough for the younger folk how much fandom these days is just not what fandom was. It has been 13 years since I last felt a sense of community in any of my fandoms, and it sucks. I can't help but think we need to decentralize again and create little pocket communities in order to return fandom to what it is meant to be.

You know what’s really disturbing to me? The culture that seems to have sprung up around fanfiction. Writers spend weeks and months working on a story – I think my record is six months on A Place For Us To Dream. And so many times readers expect to just be given a chapter even if they don’t give anything to the writer in return.

I’m going to date myself a bit here, but I’ve been reading/writing fanfiction for ten years. And when I first started it was a wonderful community. There was an unspoken rule – if you read/enjoyed it, you review it. You take thirty seconds to tell an author who probably spent anywhere from three days to a week writing that chapter you just enjoyed to tell them you enjoyed it. Even if it was as simple as “Great chapter, can’t wait to see what happens next!”

Writers spend so much time on stories, and then they post it because they have this thing that they’ve invested so many hours into and they want to share it with the world. They know how they feel about the story, and they want to know how other people feel, what other people think.

And when you read it and don’t review, you know what message you’re sending that author? That they’re not worth your time, or you didn’t enjoy their story. So why should they keep posting it? Yeah they might continue working on it in their own time, for their own enjoyment, but you might never see another chapter again because you couldn’t be bothered to take thirty seconds out of your day to tell them how you feel.

I’ve written stories in eight different fandoms, ranging from very small to very big (I’ll openly admit I wrote Twilight fanfiction once. Once. It was an Alice/Jasper story and haters can hate all they want but I’m still proud of it). I took a break for a few years because I fell out of fandoms during college, and when I came back apparently it’d become the norm to just greedily consume writing without telling writers how you feel. And that is one of the saddest things in the world to me because fanfiction is where I really started getting serious about writing. It’s how I’ve honed by skills and become the writer I am today. And that was largely in part because of all the support I got when I was an itty-bitty thirteen-year-old writing crappy W.I.T.C.H. fanfiction.

Everyone keeps saying “reviews don’t matter, you should just write for yourself.” Well, you’re wrong. Reviews make or break fanfiction. Reviews tell writers whether it’s worth their time to continue posting that story online or whether they should keep it on their hard drives and never share it with the world.

Kill the attitude that reviews don’t matter. Start telling writers you like their stories. And if you don’t, if you all just continue to be invisible readers? Don’t be surprised when that writer disappears.

[so-i-did-this-thing]

You're the only person I know on Tumblr who I feel like I can send this ask so I hope this is ok.

I'm absolutely sick to my stomach terrified. People keep talking about not acquiescing early and to keep fighting and that's good but... I'm a trans person married to a trans person and we have a kid. We are so, so scared that we are going to lose our parental rights and have him taken away, even if he's biologically my partners. We are pretty fucking sure that the only way we could even possibly stay in the US and even possibly keep our family together is to detransition. But then we would still be queer, and I remember the 90s and how it was pretty recent that gay couples were considered unfit parents.

And this isn't us blowing things out of proportion, we have an education in politics so we've got a pretty good freaking idea about how bad things can and will get, but also we don't feel like we can afford to NOT take things extremely seriously. The worst case scenario is pretty horrific for us, so we've talked at lengthe about leaving the country. Which is it's own basket of heartbreaks because then there's a real chance we will never be able to come back. And I don't really feel like I can talk about it because a) the Internet doesn't feel safe to be trans on and b) there's been SO much chatter about how we need to stay and fight and people who can leave are privileged etc etc

I just... I'm scared and heartbroken and angry and I feel extremely hopeless. I guess I don't really have a question after all. I just needed to talk about it because it feels like not enough people are seeing this kind of true tragedy that could come from all this.

I wish there was actual help we could get. But there doesn't seem like there's anyone who can.

You're right, Anon - you're not blowing things out of proportion.

I want to say that I'm relieved in a sense that you are talking about where your lines in the sand are are and what you plan to do if they are crossed. There is hope and comfort to be found in a plan, even if it is a plan for the next generation's survival, instead of our own.

Every trans person needs to start thinking about real answers to the following questions:

What will I do if I'm fired tomorrow?

What will I do if I'm denied a loan? Housing?

What will I do if I lose my HRT?

What will I do if information about trans people is considered illegal to circulate?

What will I do if I I'm declared an unfit parent?

What will I do if my marriage is annulled?

What will I do if I'm declared unfit to own my own property or make my own legal decisions?

What will I do if I'm about to be arrested?

There are answers to all of these questions that aren't just "give up and die." But there's no one-size-fits all solution. People will have varying priorities based on how they see their role in fighting fascism and what resources they have access to.

Community is going to become incredibly important. Trans people have always existed. Sympathetic cis people have always existed. Trans people have always found ways to survive and even flourish, even though it often meant not being able to pursue their original dreams.

If you don't know where to begin with strengthening our community, the Trans Literature Preservation Project is a good place to get ideas. The virtual book burnings have already begun on .gov websites, so maybe doing a little preservation work will give you more hope that you're working to make a difference.

Because the work is important, even if the progress won't happen until after our time.

[gghostwriter]

Hi!! I saw your requests are open for fluff and I love your writing and have an idea currently plaguing my mind if you are interested (but no worries if not!) 🩵

There’s this girl on tiktok who does rejection therapy where she makes little requests to strangers with the expectation of being denied, but sometimes the outcome is super sweet. I think it would be cute for a kinda shy reader to be doing rejection therapy and ask Spencer (or any of the BAU) to like play rock paper scissors or hold their badge or something with the expectation of being rejected, only to be pleasantly surprised when she isn’t rejected

Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader Trope: Fluff! Just fluff w.c: 1.33k A/N: Slowly defrosting my request box purely for fluff. I do feel a bit rusty in writing again, it's a muscle I've forgotten to exercise on the daily. I am no chess player so I honestly don't know how to write a game. Anon, I hope this still lives up to your imagination! Main masterlist

Intermezzo. // Spencer Reid

Hushed adult chatter and boisterous children’s laughter filled the greening park, once cold and barren from the winter past. The sun, as if still shy to take center stage, peeked behind a cloud of white curtains. Vibrant hues of picnic blankets scattered all over the green grass, books and wicker baskets keeping them from going with the windy breeze. 

Over the past few weeks, you’ve gotten comfortable in the new city you now call home. Bringing the tumbler of coffee against your moistened lips, the corners of your mouth lifted to form a soft smile, marveling from how far you’ve come. This city now contained your coffee shop down the block, your bookstore tucked between alleyways, and your park nestled in the middle of the bustling city. 

Your therapist was excited for this new chapter of your life, coaxing you to take baby steps away from your cocoon and enjoy what it had to offer. Filled with slight trepidation a few weeks ago, you sat on the exact same bench, back rod straight and hands wringing from the unknown when a group of men, ages of all varying degrees, had caught your eye. They were gathered under the shade from two great trees, seated and hunched over, playing various states of chess.

Fascinating.

They kept to themselves, something you could relate to. As Saturdays and Sundays passed on, you found yourself wondering why there seemed to be no women or any newcomers, to be exact, that join in the fray. Do people not feel the draw? Is it only you who found them intriguing?

Movement caught the corner of your eye.

A new face walking towards the gaggle of men—or to be exact, hobbling towards with crutches under his armpits, to an unoccupied chess table. His eyes scanning along the throng of players before briefly looking down and tapping his uninjured foot to an inconspicuous beat.

You observed him with fascination and anticipation, wanting to see if any of the usual faces would join in on his table, allowing him to be absorbed into the otherwise impenetrable group.

Five minutes.

Then ten, the seat in front of him remained empty. 

You briefly wondered if you could do it—you weren’t after all bad at chess, being a past player in high school. Not that you won more than three competitions, joining the team was purely an excuse for extra credits and to get out of physical education. 

Could you do it?

Could you walk up to a complete male stranger and ask for a game?

Could you take the rejection that may come with it?

Gnawing on your lip, you found yourself moving closer and closer, steps quiet and hesitant but each shuffle ringing in your ear. His eyes, feeling the change in the wind and your upcoming presence, met yours—both wide-eyed and unsure.

He seemed to be just like you, a doe-eyed deer stepping out of their hiding for predators lying in the wait. A gust of breath escaped your lips, a measly amount of strength returning to your tightly strung body.

“H-hi,” you whispered. 

He blinked before clearing his throat. “Hi, how can I—” his gaze tracking the path of your gaze, the opposite black pieces on the chess board. “Do you, do you want to play?”

You timidly smiled. “If you’d have me, yes.” 

“Yes,” a smile forming on his face, hands fighting to push the wayward curls behind his pinking ears. “Of course, please.” 

Gingerly seating on the marbled seat, you muttered a ‘thank you’ under your breath, one you were sure he didn’t hear.

No words were exchanged further as he moved his white pieces with grace. It was a complete contrast to yours, rusty and unsure even to that moment as to what you were actually doing seating in front of a chess genius. That was who he was, you realized, as he ate another of your pawn. Perhaps this was why no one dared to occupy the seat. He was no outsider or meek prey, he was the king (or prince) and the predators of all chess enthusiasts in the group.

You could feel the heat from the gazes of the spectators, other tables long abandoned to view and scrutinize the eventual downfall of the challenger. Whispers of strategies under their breaths and shakes of their head as they predict the next thirty-seventh move. 

Briefly you wondered if you should just call it quits, wanting to hide from the pressure. But isn’t this a prime opportunity to take further steps away from your comfort zone? Isn’t that was your therapist would have wanted? Perhaps, you were expecting rejection in the beginning and now that you were in the thick of it, you wished that it had come instead. The sweet ‘no’ from his handsome stranger’s lips rather than feeling your nerves fray from the trap laid in front of you—a pawn in perfect position to take his queen on c1. 

“Would you like to take a break?” he asked, expecting his voice to be filled with mockery and superiority, but rather was coated with the sweet, worrying tone you’d expect from a doting grandmother. 

Shaking your head no, moving your king away from endangerment—g8 to h7. 

Your opponent smiled before quickly taking his turn with a pawn. 

The game continued on in such manner, give and take, between two strangers turned opponents. You could feel the end coming as his moves further stalled, now requiring the handsome stranger to assess the remaining pieces on the board to his gain. In turn, you studied him. 

The ends of his hair brushing against the middle of his long neck. Its’ roots sticking to his forehead, shiny from perspiration. Sleeves of his button down haphazardly folded to expose his forearm and one subtle vein that disappears and appears as he moves. You doubted he was any older but the underlying confidence brimming underneath his humility made you think he’d been exposed to the underbelly of the world, long before you did. 

Seven moves later, he flashed you another smile—bigger and more joyous than you’ve seen. “Draw.”

The spectators stilled into silence. A rarity, one of the older gentlemen whispered under their breath before everyone brought into an applause. 

It happened in a flash causing breath to be caught in your throat. You’ve done it. The game was over. You’ve gone above and beyond from what your therapist had asked you to do—her “rejection therapy” leading you to an unknown you couldn’t wait to explain.

“Good game,” he breathed out.

You nodded, watching as his right hand reached out in between, casting a shadow on his knocked over king. “Oh—” lifting your hands in front of you to act as a barrier. “I’m not much of a—the number of pathogens passed during a handshake—”

“Is staggering. It’s actually safer to kiss,” he continued on before chuckling to himself, hand still extended out regardless of the trivia being shared between you two. “Not that I’m saying we should but yeah, I’m not much of a ‘handshake-r’ myself.” 

Giggling, you slowly reached for his awaiting hand, giving him a way out before both palms met and fingers locked around it. 

It was warm, like the sun that was no longer hiding behind the curtain of clouds, like a tumbler of freshly brewed coffee made by your favorite barista. 

“I’m Spencer. Spencer Reid.”

Your cheeks heated. “Nice to meet you, Spencer Reid. I’m Y/N.”

Hands still firmly connected across the chess game long forgotten, both of you seemingly unwilling to let go of the physical connection.

He cleared his throat. “Would you like to play again sometime?”

“If you’d have me again, yes.” Briefly biting your lip before taking another brave step, creating another ‘rejection therapy’ moment. “Or we could have coffee or tea sometime?”

You waited with bated breath. 

The corners of his eyes crinkled and another breathtaking smile painted his face.

“I’d like that. I’d really like that.” 

Comments & reblogs are highly appreciated!

[hopepunk-humanity]

this is hope-punk to me but i'm not quite sure how this'll fit with the rest of the blog so i'm anon-ing. this is very heavy into the US's situation right now, so anyone that that may make spiral, maybe sit this one out

y'all know about the attempted "buy-out" of govt workers? my parents are govt employees. my mom told me the night before about the mass emails sent out basically saying "hey guysss if you quit now we'll pay your through september pretty pretty please quit"

mass emails don't usually get sent out from the OPM like this. workers receive emails from the individual department heads.

this is a massive fuck-up, because people knew it was fishy immediately. some even thought it was fake. people are confused and angry. my mom said "they're so tech-savvy yet they can't even write a convincing email", and thousands of other workers are saying the same. because this email is the exact same email that Melon Husk sent out to Twitter employees before he cut them

but this isn't Twitter. this is the entire US government workforce that hundreds of millions of people rely on to do their jobs every single day.

mind you, the govt is gonna run out of money March 15th (if the debt ceiling isn't raised). they CANNOT pay any workers who resign through september, if they pay them at all, which senator Tim Kaine (D-VA) is openly highly skeptical of and there is a video of him on the senate floor telling government workers to not take the deal, echoing exactly what federal unions are telling everyone

and now tens of thousands (probably hundreds, if i'm being honest) of govt workers are standing firm. they know what this means. the fed subreddit is just filled with "stand firm! hold the line!" posts and propaganda that i fucking love to see. one post has over 60k upvotes on it. saw dozens of comments that all say something like "i've been begging for a way out for the past few weeks but this email just reignited my passion for public service and upholding the law".

this is a war on the american people and they are ready to stand up to it. they know mass resignations will fuck up so much shit, and that there is NOT enough people wanting to work for the government to fill those holes.

as of 2pm today (1/29/25), a lawsuit has been filed by the AFGE about Trump trying to politicize the civil service, with special emphasis on how he's going about it. this will not go down quietly. add that to the list of every other lawsuit being filed against him

my mom sent out "keep calm and carry on" to her team and offered guidance if anyone was thinking about resigning (mainly, her younger team members who don't have tenure - understandable). this is a tumultuous time that is scary. my mom is never phased but she is so over this bullshit, as is my dad

this administration is trying to scare/threaten people into quitting because they know a gutting is not going to be easy or even possible and to be completely honest, that email was absolutely a threat to people's jobs.

this is a grand stand of solidarity to the american citizens these people took an OATH to work for. they are tired but they are re-fired up to fight this administration with everything.

and do you know what fighting tyranny looks like for government workers? doing their jobs well. making sure people get what they need. standing up for the constitution. because for some goddamn reason, the clown show believes that government workers just sit at a desk all day and do absolutely NOTHING

Donny may be smarter this time 'round and he knows what he wants, but he has no idea how to get any of it.

bottom-line is, a large chunk of federal workers are in republican-lead states in roles that encompass every department. a lot of government work involves blue-collar workers that get paid jack shit and are NOT partisan in any capacity. this is going to fuck people up, REGARDLESS of political affiliation

so stand behind the government workers who do so much. they need us just as much as we need them. and trust, WE NEED THEM.

if you want us to be okay, you have to believe that we CAN be okay first. and i'm believing that we will come out onto the other side of this. because american citizens hold all the power here, and not him, and this (so far failed) government takeover is just proving that even more. he is overconfident.

in the darkness, this is a spark of hope. people know what we have to lose and they are FIGHTING for it

As someone who was trying to get a federal job before this mess forced me to put those efforts on hold for now, I've been watching this situation unfold closely. I'm thrilled with what I've seen from the federal workforce. It makes me all the more confident that this is the career I want, because the people already there have the same mindset about it. It assures me, too, that there a huge swathes of the government (far more people than in congress) who have this country's best interests at heart.

Suffice to say, it's been really difficult to be hopeful about the U.S. government for the past several years. But for me at least, the federal workers are re-writing the narrative.

Hold the line. Don't resign.

[kayhi808]

OK, let’s say he comes back from a mission and it was really rough on him and he kind of relapsed into the winter soldier(slightly very very slightly) and Steve let’s reader know that a lot happened. Abby has went away with Natasha for a weekend together as reader was really busy w work. Bucky comes home and is so so on edge and is afraid he will hurt reader and isolates himself especially after he almost hurt reader when she crept up too silent behind him. so he hates himself rn. BUT THEN ABBY RUNS IN OUT OF NOWHERE AND HUGS HIM CUS SHE WAS WAITING FOR HIM TO COME BACK AND BOOM man either lets out the craziest sigh or low keys cries because he realizes he is okay. idk something like that if it makes sense ¯\_(ツ)_/

🧹

Thank you, to my favorite anon!💕 It took me forever to get to this one. This was a lot to go on. It could have gone really dark and angsty, but I'm trying to keep my Abby stories a little lighter. Hope you like it.🤗

Bucky was gone on what turned out to be an intense mission & word just came back that his team was returning. Steve and Bucky were heading the mission so you weren't too worried. You always like when they are sent out together because you knew they had each other's backs. ALWAYS

The quinjet touched down & the crew disembarked. You saw Bucky and Steve walking down the ramp, deep in conversation. As soon as Bucky made eye contact with you, you felt something was wrong. Then he veered away from you to another entry into the Tower and you knew something was very wrong.

You started to follow him, but Steve blocked your path. "What happened? What's wrong with Bucky??"

"Y/N, give him some time, this mission was rough on him."

"Is he hurt? Is he ok?"

"Physically he's fine..."

Impatiently, "then tell me what happened!"

"It's his story to tell. He needs a little bit of time to sort out the demons in his head. That's all."

"That's all?!?"

"It's what he wants."

******

You were able to give him 2 days to himself, until you caved in & tried calling Bucky just to hear his voice. For him to tell you he's ok but needs time to himself. You'd understand that. But for him to send your call to voicemail pissed you off. You left a message last night & today's you were leaving to pick up Abby, you tried again & you got his voicemail.

"Babe? Can you please call me back, text me...or something, so I know you're alive yet purposefully ignoring me? That would be great." You sigh, "Is this how we are going forward in this relationship? This will be the new communication norm?"

You gather your things to head out of the building, but up ahead you see Steve & Bucky. You hurry to catch up with them. You grab onto Bucky's arm & before you can even say his name, his hand is on your sternum, and you're shoved against the wall. A startled yelp escapes & he releases you immediately. "Fuck!" His hands drop to your arms, "Are you ok? Did I hurt you?" Steve pulls Bucky back.

You reach for his hands, "I'm fine. You startled me." You look up at him and he looks so tired. You go to hug him but he pulls away from you. "Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on, Buck?" You turn to Steve, "Would you do me a big favor and pick-up Abby from pre-school, please?"

"Yea, sure " He shoots Bucky a worried glance before he leaves.

*****

Once you're back at Bucky's residence, "Are you ready to tell me what happened?" You flop yourself down on his couch.

"I can't... I can't let those things...touch you. You don't need to know about HYDRA."

"Bucky, I know about HYDRA. I work here! Nick Fury is my boss."

"You don't need to know about the Winter Soldier. You don't need to know about me back then." Bucky stops pacing & drops down into his chair.

"You don't think I've done my research before dating you? Before I let you be around my daughter? What you did back then was not your fault. You weren't given a choice. HYDRA had control of you. Babe, you are not the same person."

"I'm still capable..."

You move to sit at the foot of his chair, "No! Stop it."

"Doll, I could have killed you back there!"

"You didn't. You wouldn't. You're James Barnes, not the Winter Soldier!" You squeeze his hands. "Talk to me, Bucky. Let me share your burden. We're in this life together. Please tell me what happened."

With a deep sigh, "We went to hit an active HYDRA base camp." You nod. "Doll, there were cribs there. In the lab, there were children's bed and restraints." You softly gasp, squeezing his hands tighter. "We couldn't locate any of the children, but now I know they're out there somewhere."

"Oh, Bucky." Tears prickling your eyes, "I'm so sorry."

"I killed them all. Whoever was there." You kneel up to wrap your arms around him. It took a while for him to return your hug, but you didn't let go. He gives in and pulls you tightly to him.

"You think I wouldn't do the same if I could? Wouldn't anyone do the same? The only difference is that we don't have your skill set." Pulling away, cradling his face between your palms to get him to look at you, "Just because you have the skills, does not make you the Winter Soldier." You give him a soft kiss. "The job you took on isn't an easy one, but you're making the world a safer place. For people like me and Abby."

"I saw the cribs and beds and I...I thought of Abigail. And...I snapped." You nod.

"I understand how that could happen." Bucky pulls you onto his lap & he holds you for a long time in silence. You offered him comfort any way you could. You understand now why he was so affected by this mission. "You need to talk to me and tell me what's going on. You can't shut me out, Buck. I was so worried. If the situation was flipped, how would you handle me shutting down on you?"

"Not well." He gives you a slight smile.

Nodding, "exactly." You lean back against him as he wraps you in his arms.

"I'm sorry."

*******

Steve picks up Abby and visits with Ms Grace before returning to the Tower, hoping you and Bucky ironed out your differences. He texts you both letting you know he's got Abs in the common room watching TV.

"You knows what, Uncle Steve?"

"No, what Abs."

"Chloe and Mia says a new Lilo & Stitch movies coming outs."

"Oh, yea? Wow."

Abby stands up on the couch next to Steve and slings her arm across his shoulders. "Rights?? I so 'cited! You know what, Uncle Steve?"

"No, what Abs?"

"You wants to take me to the Lilo & Stitch movies?"

"Won't your Mama and Bucky take you to see it? Did they say no?" Steve has to ask. He's not going to be caught up in one of Abby's tricks and get in trouble with you.

"Mama gonna takes me, but you can takes me," holding up two fingers, "two time." She gives Steve a sweet smile.

"Abigail."

She cackles. "What if I likes it so much and wants to sees it again? Like Wicked?"

Steve rolls his eyes, "Fine. If you like it so much, I'll take you to watch it again."

Abby squashes her cheek against Steve's while strangling him around the neck, "Oh, tank you! Yous the best Uncle in all the worlds!" She sees Bucky in the doorway and Uncle Steve is quickly forgotten. "Papa! You homes!!" She bounces off the couch and runs to Bucky with arms spread wide.

Bucky steps back, away from your incoming toddler, banging into you. "It's ok, Bucky."

Abby doesn't slow down, so Bucky is forced to catch her and lift her into his arms. "I missed-ed you so much!" Abby peppers his face with kisses. She pulls away & squishes his face between her palms, "You missed-ed me, too?" A happy hopeful smile on her face.

Bucky nods, answering quietly, "Yea, baby. I missed-ed you, too," dropping a kiss on her nose which makes her do a happy wiggle.

@waywardhunter95 @rebeccapineapple @ordelixx @onceithough @thezombieprostitute @ilovetaquitosmmmm @julvrs @unaxv @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @winterslove1917 @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @mrsnikstan @hisredheadedgoddess28 @itsteambarnes @otterlycanadian @purplecolordeer @buckitostan @littleredwolf @mcucatlady @silas-aeiou @hzdhrtss @florie1 @thecubanator2 @enchantedbarnes @selella @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @cjand10 @pancake-05 @ozwriterchick @crazyunsexycool @baw1066 @nommingonfood @jvanilly

[sai-int]

Is it too much to ask for a dd/lg headcannon or Drabble with the 141 boys? Maybe even including others like graves, konig, Keegan, Alejandro and Rudy?

(Can I be 🍇 anon?)

never too much! you're actually the first person to claim an emoji! I hope this is okay doll ♡

cw : 18+ MDNI , dd/lg dynamics , this is so long, im sorry price, simon, johnny, kyle, könig, keegan, alejandro, rudy, graves

price – the definition of a firm but fair daddy. he’s got rules, and he expects you to follow them, but he’s not cruel about it. he’s patient, steady, always knows what you need—even when you don't. his presence alone is enough to make you feel safe, grounded. but he’s also stern when he needs to be.

"feet up, love. that's it. let me take care of you." he says, kneeling in front of you after a long day, pulling off your shoes and rubbing slow, firm circles into your sore arches. he takes care of you without hesitation, without asking. knows when you need a bath drawn, knows when you need to be pulled into his lap and held until your breathing evens out.

but if you brat? you’re bent over his lap, skirt flipped up, his hand smoothing over your skin before landing a sharp smack. "i warned you, didn’t I?" he’s got a low tolerance for brattiness but an endless amount of patience when it comes to taking care of you. calls you his girl, sweetheart, maybe even baby when he’s feeling soft. he’s got a warm, protective presence, safe but still in control. nothing gets past him. if you try to pout your way out of trouble, he just smirks, presses a kiss to your forehead, and hums a low, "nice try, love."

simon – quiet, intense, and possessive. he’s not big on pet names—mostly calls you love—but the way he looks at you? like he owns you, like he’d burn the world down for you? that’s where the power is.  he doesn’t have to say much, doesn’t need a long list of rules or punishments. all it takes is a look, the weight of his stare heavy enough to make you squirm. he doesn’t like bratting, doesn’t like games. when he tells you to do something, he expects you to listen.

"listen, come here, love." simple, direct. his voice is low, steady. when you hesitate, just for a moment, his head tilts. the mask makes it impossible to read his expression, but you know what’s coming.

"really gonna make me ask again, are you?"

and when you finally move, slipping between his legs, he rewards you with rare praise, making it feel that much better.

"that’s m'good girl."

johnny – playful, teasing, and so good with praise. he loves winding you up, watching you get all pouty just so he can break you down and build you back up again. his favorite thing in the world is turning your "no, I'd never" into "please, johnny, more."

"dinnae be shy, princess," he grins, leaning in, voice warm with amusement. "say it for me. tell me what y’need."

he’s big on physical affection, always touching, always holding, always making sure you feel how much he adores you. he’s the type to pick you up and spin you around just to hear you squeal, to kiss you breathless in the middle of the street just because he can.

his hands are always everywhere, his voice a steady stream of praise. "look at ye. so fuckin’ sweet for me. always are."

but when it’s time to be serious? he knows how to handle you. lets you push him just enough before he’s got you pinned against the nearest surface, smirking as he presses against your backside as you get shy, "thought you were a big girl, hm? what happened to all that attitude?"

or maybe you'll laugh, not taking him seriously, "think yer bein’ funny, aye?" his fingers trail up your thigh, the pads of them making dimples in your skin as he leans in. "let’s see how much ye'll be laughin' when a’m done wi' ye."

kyle – softer, more nurturing. he’s the type to tuck you into his side, stroke your hair, kiss your forehead and call you his sweet girl. loves taking care of you, making sure you feel safe and cherished. he’s the kind of daddy that knows exactly when to pull you into his lap and murmur, "what’s goin’ on, baby?" he doesn’t scold when you brat—he just guides, gently steering you back to where you need to be.

"i know, sweetheart. just need some attention, don’t you?" he coos, thumb tracing slow lines along your lower lip. "c’mere. let me take care of you, yeah?"

but he’s not a pushover. when you really push? he just sighs, shaking his head, the disappointment gets you the most.

"you know better than that, love. you wanna try again?"

könig – gentle but possessive. he knows how big he is, how easily he could overpower you at a moments notice, but that’s not what he wants. he cherishes you, treats you like something delicate, something precious. calls you mäuschen, liebling, mein süßes mädchen.

his hands are massive—capable of destruction, yet impossibly soft when they touch you. he holds you like you’re special, something his. he takes so much pride in you. his voice is low, rumbled with that thick austrian accent as he murmurs, "mein liebling, so brave… so sweet for me."

he adores caring for you. brushing your hair every night, wrapping you in his arms, tracing gentle patterns on your skin as he murmurs praises. but he watches you, reads you, because he knows when you’re acting out watches

"you are just testing my patience, mäuschen. do not disappoint me."

it’s not a threat, it’s a warning. his grip is firm, but never harsh, just a reminder of his strength. when you finally give in, whisper out a soft "i’m sorry, daddy" he's too weak to stay upset, immidiately praising you.

"awh, that’s my baby. knew you would come back to me." his lips press to your forehead, his arms wrapping around you tight. because you’re his, and he never lets what’s his go.

keegan – commanding but patient. he doesn’t say much, doesn’t need to. you and him communicate almost telepathically, always intune with eachother. when he looks at you, when he tilts his head just so, eyes sharp beneath that black face paint, it’s enough.

"pet." his voice is low, even, a quiet command. "come here."

you hesitate, just for a second, testing him, pushing. but all it takes is that subtle shift in his posture, that almost-imperceptible narrowing of his eyes, for you to realize exactly what you’ve done.

"you know better."

he doesn’t raise his voice, doesn’t punish you outright. no—he waits, lets the silence stretch until you’re squirming. he wants you to break on your own, to realize that disobeying him was never going to end in your favor.

"be good for me." his hand finds your chin, tilting your face up to meet his. his touch is firm, his thumb grazing your bottom lip, watching the way you react.

and when you finally, finally submit? he smirks, barely there, nodding once as his thumb brushes over your cheek.

"that’s my girl."

alejandro – soooo teasing, full of warmth. calls you mi amor, bebita, princesa. he spoils you rotten, but he expects your obedience in return. loves watching you melt under his praise.

"mírate, baby" he murmurs, shaking his head with a soft chuckle. "tan hermosa cuando eres buena para mí." 

he lives to take care of you. always checking in, making sure you ate or what not. "estás bien, mi amor?" his hands smoothing over your back, pulling you into his chest. when you’ve had a long day, when you’re feeling small, he tucks you into his lap, cradles your face, murmurs soft praises in spanish, low and soothing in your ear.

"always so good, mi princesa."

rudy – soft but firm. calls you mi corazón , muñequita. he’s the kind of man who lets you brat, lets you think you’re getting away with it, all build letting it until he finally decides to correct you.

"are you done, muñeca?" voice calm, measured.

he doesn’t scold, doesn’t get angry. just waits. waits for you to realize that he’s not going to entertain your attitude. that he’s not going to play your game.

and when you calm down? he just smiles, welcoming you back to him with open arms. pulling you into his lap and cradling your face in his hands. because rudy doesn’t break. he just waits for you to come back to him.

graves – cocky and dominant, and always in control. he has that easy southern charm, the kind that makes you feel safe, wanted, but also makes it crystal clear that he’s in charge. calls you darlin’, sugar, his little thing. thrives on obedience, but he loves breaking you in, watching you go from stubborn and defiant to soft and needy under his touch.

"you’re makin’ this real difficult for yourself, sugar."

his voice is always calm, never rushed. he knows he’s going to get his way. when you brat, when you cross your arms and huff at him, he just sighs, shakes his head, tilts his chin down slightly so he’s looking at you, sharp blue eyes cutting through your attitude like a knife.

"can act tough all you want, sweets, but we both know how this ends."

his punishments aren’t harsh, they’re calculated. never does anything in the heat of the moment. he waits, makes you squirm, makes you realize that pushing him was a bad idea.

but when you’re good? fuck, does he reward you.

"now that’s what I like, darlin’," he murmurs, kitten licking at your clit. "my sweet girl, doin’ exactly what she’s told. ain't so hard, hmm?"

he’s big on ownership. likes having his hands on you, his arm draped over your shoulders, fingers ghosting against your neck. not because he doesn’t trust you, he just likes reminding you who you belong to.

"ain’t nobody else gonna take care of you like I do, sugar. you know that, don’t you?"

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

Hi, here is an idea for a plot : marcus is send to kidnap a women because Greta has heard that she is the most beautiful women on earth. He does it but during the travel back they both fall for esch other. Thank you I love your work

Note: Thank you very much for the request, sweet anon. I don't know if I fulfilled it completely, but I hope that I could give you at least a little pleasure with this scribble. I managed to find a moment of time and I wanted to do it. thank you!

Warnings : some violence but not literally, some weird stuff, some romance, some kissing

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

General Marcus Acacius [masterlist]

witch. l General Marcus Acacius

"General!" the young man rushed into his tent and quickly bowed his head. "Forgive me, sir, but we have a problem."

"What kind of problem?" he muttered without even looking up from the map he had spread out on the plain table.

Marcus, out of the corner of his eye, noticed that the man shifted restlessly, until words finally flowed from his lips that forced General Acacius to look at him.

"I think we have some kind of witch in the camp."

His head had been hurting unbearably for several hours. This journey had been completely pointless. Emperor Geta had heard rumors, whispered among other men, that somewhere on the territory of his country was the most beautiful woman in the world.

Greed and lust made him want to possess her, enslave her. After all, only the Emperor should be able to possess someone like that. He deserved it. She was his due.

General Acacius, on the other hand, believed that these rumors were nonsense. A well-concocted tale to mock the Emperor and his stupid greed. He also didn't believe that any woman would consciously and willingly want to enter a cage and be locked up with such a man. 

But Marcus had no other choice, because when Geta invited him to his chambers and assigned him this mission, his views no longer counted.

Just as he had done during the war, so now, he found the woman, captured her and was on his way to Rome. However, it was a hard road. And you made sure that each of the soldiers who enslaved you would remember you for a long time.

So you were locked in a carriage, part of the walls of which were bars so that you could at least enjoy a little fresh air or sun. You used it as much as you could.

Marcus stopped in front of the carriage and looked sternly at several men, one of whom threw a bucket of icy water straight at the post standing inside.

"By the gods! What's going on here?!" he roared.

"General!" the men bowed quickly. "This... This is a witch! Ever since we stopped, she's been deceiving our heads and senses, telling such things..."

"I'm telling the truth!" the woman's voice was strong and stubborn. It clearly reached Marcus despite the dull pain in her temples. "And the gods will punish you all! You will grovel under their feet like worthless, filthy vermin!"

Someone splashed water again and they heard a distinct snort. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

The soldiers looked at their commander. A mixture of fear and uncertainty was written on their faces, but Marcus knew perfectly well that in such a state, further travel would be an even more difficult task. Finally, he nodded to the man who had brought him here.

"Release her and bring her to my tent." he ordered.

"But, sir!"

"That's an order. She is to appear there as soon as possible." he added and then went back to his place.

You appeared after a few minutes. The clothes you were wearing were completely soaked, and strands of hair stuck to your face. And although you were shaking like leaves in the wind, rebellion and stubbornness did not disappear from your face. You twitched nervously when he tried to put a rough blanket on your shoulders.

"Calm down, I won't do anything to you." he said quietly. "Sit down, have a drink of wine."

Slender fingers tightened on the material, but finally, with quite a confident step, you moved to the place he indicated. Sweet wine and a few bites of bread occupied you enough that Marcus could calmly look at you. He hadn’t had the opportunity to do so before.

When he took you from your home, chaos reigned. The appearance of a detachment of Romans worried the inhabitants of a nearby village, and you... 

Acacius couldn't remember if he had ever seen a woman defend herself so well. One of the soldiers lost a tooth when you hit him in the face with a saucepan you had at hand, and more than one of them had marks from your nails on them. It was only when someone dared to put a cloth bag over your head that your curses and swearing stopped. 

Only now could Marcus look at you. Indeed, you were beautiful. However, he didn’t think that your beauty was only in your face or body, you had something in you that he hadn’t seen before. 

Incredible stubbornness, pride, but also recklessness since you were not afraid to challenge a group of men on whom your life depended.

"You're staring, soldier." You mumbled, washing down a bite of bread with wine.

Marcus came closer and sat down on a chair close to you. "I'm a general." He said.

You shrugged, though. "You're a soldier. A puppet in the hands of a man who thinks he's a god."

"That man sent me for you." He noticed that you looked at him nervously, like a scared animal. "He's heard rumors about you."

"Rumors." You repeated, dusting off your hands and wrapping the blanket around yourself tighter, because the wet clothes were sticking to your body. "I've seen many more beautiful ones."

"I don't..."

You shook your head, biting your lip. "Don't say that."

You noticed how the general tilted his head, looking at you closely. His dark eyes didn't tear themselves away from you and you didn't like what you were feeling. From the beginning, you felt that something was wrong with this man. He was different. Different from those you knew.

"You expected us to come." The general's voice was low and melodic, a warm shiver ran through your body. "How is that possible? Who warned you?"

"Nobody. Soldier."

You wanted to insult him. You wanted to draw a line and show that you weren't afraid of him, that you despised him. But he just smiled. He stretched his long legs in front of him and folded his arms across his chest.

"My name is Marcus." he said and ignored your snort. "And yours? Or should I call you a witch?"

He noticed how your eyebrows drew together. "I have a name." you replied and gave it to him.

The general played with it for a few moments, rolling it on his tongue, and you hated how good it sounded in his mouth. Finally, he sat up and held out his hand to you. You flinched.

"I won't do anything to you." Marcus smiled gently.

"I'm not afraid of you." you replied. "Neither of you nor any of your soldiers."

When your hand clenched in his, he felt something strange in an instant. A strange warmth flowed through his skin and veins, it hit him straight to his heart. He wanted to relax his fingers and withdraw his hand, but he couldn't. A hot feeling filled him, clearing his mind and thoughts, and the headache... He realized then that he hadn't felt it for a few moments.

You must have felt the same, because your lips parted and your face brightened as if you had suddenly understood a huge secret.

"It’s you..."

"Me?"

You slid off the chair and knelt down in front of him, your eyes fixed on him as if he were the greatest treasure. "I've seen you before. In my dreams. I didn't understand it until the seeress in the temple told me..."

Marcus wanted to touch your face. Colossal fingers clumsily brushed the skin of your cheek, but you didn't seem to feel it, because you were so focused on him.

"She said a man would come and take me away by force. I thought it was a curse..."

"And it isn't? I took you by force, you fought like a lioness."

"But I didn't fight you, I fought your men. And every other man who tried to. That's where the rumors started, which were just nonsense. The gods made fun of us..."

The tip of his finger moved across your lips. They were soft and warm. The thought of tasting them was born in Marcus' head, but he fought it.

"Emperor Geta... That's where I'm taking you."

"Are you sure?"

He wasn't. Geta wouldn't be happy if he met your resistance and Marcus knew that this would quickly turn into a terrible tragedy. He just didn't know who would lose their life first because of this. Marcus closed his eyes for a moment, but behind his eyelids he could still see your face and your eyes fixed on him.

"You know perfectly well that I'm not for him... The gods didn't destined me for him. However, they used him to make our paths cross."

You let go of his hand and stood up. A gentle touch on his cheek, your breath on his lips. You were so close that the air around him burned.

"I had a dream." he whispered quietly. "I felt you in it, but I didn't see you. You were like a wild animal, but when you looked at me we both knew that we were no threat to each other. That we were looking for each other."

"That's how it was..."

He felt your lips on his. The gentle and tender touch of lips that tasted of sweet wine. Each kiss was a promise of eternity, endless love and sensations that only souls truly dedicated to each other could experience. 

Strong arms pulled you to his broad chest, and his lips became more violent, more greedy. But you weren't afraid, not of him. You already knew that Marcus would do everything so that you wouldn't appear before the Emperor. 

You were his, by the will of the gods.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[ginnyw-potter]

please please please recommend some good hinny fics I literally cannot find anything 😭😭

Oh my god anon there are so many good fics out there. I don't know what you like so here are just a few and all those writers nearly all have multiple fics that are also so so good so you should have plenty to read.

WIPs:

Already Gone by @takeariskao3 (memory loss) arrive at its destination (full of hope) by dhpanya10 (Regency) In the Flat With the Blue Door by little0bird (Notting Hill AU) Made To Be Broken by StarlingFlight (there is only one bed) Quidditch Is For Losers by @fizzyginfizz (this is on my tbr and I've only read bits but obsessed with this Ginny) Spring Fever by takearisk (omegaverse) Ginny Weasley is a Slut by @four2andnew (Drunk texting AU) Seeking you by Startanewdream (Quidditch AU)

Completed:

heaven knows i've tried by @lanaturnergetup (Quidditch fic) I heart ? by @starlingflight (secret dating) Ginny's Very Serious Investigation by @tedwardremus (humour) like passing notes in secrecy by @nuatthebeach (mutual pining) Fallin' All In You by StarlingFlight (HBP) An Appropriate Gift for a Wizard by TedwardRemus (Post-DH) before the moment's gone by @gmwpluvr (HBP) The Big Bad Betrayal by @startanewdream (HBP) loml by @corneliaavenue-ao3 (text fic) confessions should be better planned by takearisk (text fic) Bewitched by StarlingFlight (Halloween AU) JSYK ILY by @brightlybound (text fic) The Night of the Brown Bananas by @evesaintyves (Coming of age) Trust Him Like a Brother by CorneliaAvenue (Flirting and more)

[short-honey-badger]

Hello!

This is the first time ever that I ask for a writing to a headcanon and it’s exciting. :) I have been eating up your Shamrock/Shanks writings, love them!

There is this idea living in my head that the female reader

a) falls very ill

b) gets poisoned by rivals of the Figarland family

And is then discovered by Shamrock who comes looking for us, wondering why we don’t react to him calling our name.

In both scenarios mentioned, the reader is then lying in bed and very weak, suffering and slipping in and out of consciousness.

Meanwhile, Shamrock deals with guilt, fear and shock about this even happening right under his nose

Shanks of course would be there too, angry with his brother for not looking out enough for Reader

I know this is very angsty (think about that scene from Gone with the Wind where Scarlett fell down the stairs and was ill) and I am not sure if you said anywhere that this isn’t something you would like to write about.

Still, I would love to see what you make of this little snippet. :) Your Shamrock characterization is great 👍

Okay anon. This was probably one of my favorite ones I've done so far so thank you dearly for the wonderful prompt. I hope I have done it justice! ❤️❤️

Watch me Wither

Pairings! Shanks x Female Reader x Figarland Shamrock

Warnings! Not many? Angsty sick fic

Shamrock Masterlist-> HERE

Shamrock stands vigil over your still form, lips set in a harsh frown. It's been three days, and still your condition has yet to improve. Guilt eats at him, knowing that if he had listened to his brother for once that this wouldn't have happened. That you, their most precious person, would not be lying here still as a corpse. How could he let this happen when he had sworn to you that you would be safe here with him?

When you don't come to his office to share lunch with the leader of the Holy Knights, Shamrock knows that there is something going on. He stands from his desk and leaves his office, booted feet slapping against the stone of his home as he navigates the halls to the room he had set you up in a month ago.

Shanks had argued against you staying in Marie Geoise with Shamrock, seemingly convinced that you would be happier, safer with him and his crew. Shamrock had scoffed and rolled his eyes at his younger twin, lips pursed and arms crossed.

“She will be perfectly fine here with me, safe where no bloody pirates can steal her away when you aren't paying attention.”

Shanks had rolled his eyes but backed down, face set in a scowl as he turned on his heel to go tell you goodbye.

Shamrock knocks on your door, knowing that you value your privacy, but when you didn't answer after several moments, the holy knight turned the handle and strode inside. He stalks forward, scowl on his face as he comes to a stop beside your bed. He can see the lump you make under the blankets and calls your name, but still, there is no response from you. He rolls his eyes and reaches out, pulling the quilt down and freezing when he sees the yellow pallor of your face, your hair weighed down by sweat.

His heart siezed in his chest, eyes going wide as he reached out, on ehand wrapping around your shoulder and shaking you gently, “Darling, my love, please, wake up.”

A wretched groan left your mouth, eyes cracking open just enough that he could see the way your pupils had shrunk, tiny pinpoints surrounded by the dull color of your iris and bloodshot white sclera.

He had jumped into action when you fell back into unconsciousness seconds later, eyes drooping and body going lax in his hold. Shamrock had scooped you up and ran like he had never before, heedless of puting up a front in front of the servants and other members of his household until he made it to the room that their personal healer stayed. He’d woken Jurgan, demanding that the old man examine you, and what he found had made dreaded guilt well up inside the holy knight.

Someone, either an enemy of the Figarland household or one of their enemies, had poisoned you.

Now Shamrock could do nothing but regret his choice in keeping you here. He had called Shanks on the second day that you were admitted into the medical ward, and had sat still and silent as his twin lay into him, furious at Shamrock for allowing this to happen right under his nose. He deserved the dressing down, and it only added to his guilt and fear that because of him, they would never see that shy little grin that was only meant for them, ever again.

Shanks had told him that he would be back as quickly as he could, wanting to be there for his twin and for you if you ever happened to wake for longer periods of time. Shamrock had just quietly agreed, not feeling the need to argue against his younger brother, not when you were in such a delicate position.

You would wake long enough each day that Shamrock for drip water into your mouth, his eyes intent as he watched you slowly consume the liquid before you would drop back off, still too weak to do much but slowly recover. Jurgan had purged your system with a concoction of drugs, but even then, the doctor had informed him that it may not be enough for you to pull through. Only time would tell.

Shamrock didn’t know what he would do if you didn’t make it. You had become an extension of his life, a need that he would happily let consume him if only to receive your soft hands and sweet attitude that you rewarded him and Shanks with. Raging guilt eats at him, knowing that he failed you, that the promise he had made you and Shanks has been broken by being too prideful, too sure in the knowledge that you would be safe in his home.

A low groan gains his attention, and Shamrock cuts his eyes down at you, loping forward to grasp your hand in his own when he sees your hand twitch in his direction. You grip his fingers weakly, and the holy knight kneels by your side, burgundy eyes soft as he reaches out with his other hand to gently card his fingers through your hair. You look pitiful, but it gives him hope that you are beginning to feel better when you crack your eyes open to meet his own.

“Sham?”

Your voice is scratchy with disuse, but Shamrock is just happy to hear your voice. He squeezes your fingers, the hand in your hair smoothing down to cup your cheek, “I’m here, darling.”

Shamrock doesn’t know what to do or how he could make you feel better other than just by being at your side. His father had huffed and sneered, telling his older son that he needed to get over this, and get back to his duties, but the redhead found that he was always pulled back to your side, unable to be away from you for too long.

“Red?” You rasp quietly and frown when Shamrock shakes his head.

“Shanks is on his way, my love,” he murmurs, and the knowledge that the other twin was on the way seems to settle you, face smoothing out into something peaceful. He watches you for a while longer until your hand goes slack and you seem to slip back to sleep. Shamrock sighs and carefully disentangles his hand from yours and stands. He knows that you are unlikely to wake again in the next couple of hours, so as much as it pains him to leave your side, Shamrock does. He must before his father comes to collect him.

The next several days passed the same way, Shamrock would come and stay by your side, the guilt inside him eating away at him as he stared at your pale form resting under warm blankets. He would hold your hand, a silent sentinel. He seethed and raged inside his mind, furious that he was no closer to finding out the culprit behind your poisoning. He watched you wither further every day, and it killed him on the inside little by little.

Shanks arrived on the seventh day, running through the halls of a home he held no fond memories of. He ignored the sneers that were directed at him, not caring that the household thought of him as lesser just because he refused to bow to their whims. He found his twin sitting beside you in the medical ward, the other redhead looking worse than Shanks has ever seen his older brother.

“How is she?” He asks as he shuts the door behind him. He comes and stands at his twin's side, eyes wide as he stares down at you. He wanted to touch, to feel you, to make sure that you were still holding on, but he was terrified of making your condition worse.

“Better,” Shamrock murmured, voice rough from disuse. He watched his younger brother, seeing the look of fear etched on the face that looked so much like his own, and felt that same remorse well up. He drops his eyes quickly, averting them back to where you lay, “Jurgan says that she will recover, but the poison did a number on her internal organs. She will never be as strong as she once was.”

Shanks grits his teeth, his anger at his brother coming back with a vengeance. He doesn't bother looking at the other man, but his voice is tense and full of displeasure, “I told you that she wouldn't be safe here. You should have known better than to keep the one weakness you have so close. Her staying here was doomed from the start, Sham.”

Shamrock grits his teeth, shoulders hunching. He knows that Shanks is right, having already berated himself mentally more than his brother ever could.

“So you've already said last time we spoke,” He murmurs, and thankfully, Shanks doesn't say anything else about his failings. The two sit in silence, both content to watch your chest move up and down in your sleep. It isn't until there is a catch in your breath that they snap to attention.

Your brow furrows, and soft sound leaves you. You shift on the bed, arm snaking out from under the blankets, and Shanks stands, beating his brother to grasp your hand in his own. Your eyes crack open a moment later, blurry but more focused now than you seem to have been in days. You turn your head, lips pulling up in a tiny smile when you see both of your boys sitting beside you. You squeeze the hand you hold, voice scratching and throat sore.

“Shanks, you're here.”

The redhead smiles sadly, squeezing your hand back tightly, “Yeah, baby. I'm right here. How are you feeling?”

You shift with a wince to lay on your side, sliding your other hand out and reaching for the older twin. Shamrock easily slides his hand into yours, eyes soft as he stares at you.

“Better now that you're both here,” you say quietly and give them both a meager smile. You can tell, even in your pained and muddled state, that there is more than the usual tension between the two brothers. You sigh softly and squeeze Shanks’ hand again to gain his attention.

“Don't be mad, Red. This is my own fault. I should have been more careful.”

Both men widen their eyes, confused and about to argue that they are the ones who are supposed to take care of you, but you plow on before they can get a word out, “You can't be by my side every waking hour, loves. I knew this place would be dangerous even when I agreed to stay here. I got too comfortable, and that cost me.”

“But-”

You cut the holy knight off, “But nothing, Sham. You have duties, and Shanks, you have a crew to take care of. I don't want the two of you beating yourselves up or each other up.”

They watch you swallow harshly, lips moving into a weary smile full of sadness both men dearly wished they could wipe away.

“I heard what you said, Shamrock, and if it's as bad as you say it is, then I'm going to need you. Both of you.”

Shanks nods immediately, crouching down so that he can be at eye level with you. He leans forward, lips kissing your brow before he pulls back to give you a smile, “We'll be here, baby.”

Shamrock clutches your hand, still feeling that raging guilt that threatens to suffocate him, but he shoves it down for now. You were right. They would need to be there. He leans in and kisses your knuckles where they wrap around his hand, voice a soft promise, “Always, my love. We have you.”

You give them both a small smile, exhaustion suddenly eating away at you, and you squeeze their hands again, grip going slack as moments later, “I know.”

You are asleep seconds later, but neither man has any plans of going anywhere, not when you would need them when you woke up next. You had a long road of recovery ahead, but you would get there with them at your side.

@mit-suri @mfreedomstuff @sanjisleggy @nocturnalrorobin

[v6quewrlds]

HIGH MAINTENANCE, JUSTIN HERBERT.

pairing⠀⁎⠀justin herbert x reader.

summary⠀⁎⠀the cliche, "opposites attract" seemed to have been made for your relationship with justin. the internet seems to have trouble keeping that in mind.

author's note⠀⁎⠀requested by an anon <3, my brain is fried so take this smau as an apology while i recover. ik the first pics are from a rams game & the tweet dates make no sense, let's use our imaginations <3 pictures from pinterest & instagram.

nflwagsdaily just posted .ᐟ

nflwagsdaily: looks like herbie's officially off the market! 🚨

eagle-eyed chargers fans spotted a new addition to the herbert family suite during the team's earlier home game. herbert's new belle appeared quite comfy-cozy with his family, donning chargers blue & dark tresses. our faithful internet sleuths immediately got to work, and through some careful instagram research and some very convenient follows, it seems we've tracked her down.

treat miss yourusername well, justin. we're all watching.

view all 183 comments.

user1 and they said my qb couldn't pull

user2 another athlete, another influencer... when will they learn

user3 this poor girl's notifs 😭 -> user4 let's hope she privates her account bc his fans will never let her rest -> user5 NEVER

user6 this is old news? 💀 -> user7 fr deuxmoi has been saying he's off the market since at least march -> user8 since when do we listen to deuxmoi hello??? -> user7 well she was right so now what... 🥴

user9 ominous ass caption what the fuck is going on in nflwagdailylandia? -> user10 deadass 😭😭😭

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justinherbert just posted .ᐟ

justinherbert: not much to say other than #boltup

view all 1,273 comments.

simifehoko13 taking the stairs ⚡ liked by author

user11 my qb is so majestic man

yourusername 💙⚡ liked by author -> user12 well there it is... -> user13 they think they're soooo sneaky lmao

user14 look at me, i'm justin herbert. i'm an elite quarterback in the nfl. jim harbaugh is my biggest ride or die. my girlfriend's mysterious and gorgeous. i have amazing hair. i'm a 6'6" multimillionaire who graduated with a 4.0 in biology. man fuck you. liked by yourusername -> user15 dawg 💀 -> user16 u made it big bro -> user14 wanna thank bolt nation for this moment

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yourusername just posted .ᐟ

yourusername: well, what do you say we get thrown out of an applebee's?

view 56 comments.

user17 is this a movie reference? 😭 -> user18 a will ferrell reference at that -> user19 of course it is, they're soulmates 😭

yourbestie1 what does he have that i don't? 😔 -> yourbestie2 a stable paycheck and a fat ass -> yourbestie1 ykw -> yourusername 🫷😌🫸 now now ladies we can all get along -> justinherbert i call primary custody -> yourbestie1 no ❤️

user20 not even trying to be messy or anything but what could they possibly have to talk about? -> user21 nfl quarterback... pretty girl... i don't think they do much talking no shade -> user22 i don't think she's trying to be an influencer so maybe she has a job? -> user23 "maybe" 💀

yourbestie2 hair 🙂‍↕️ -> yourusername ty for putting me on bae <3

justinherbert that sound like a good idea? liked by author

user24 i'm sensing a vibe no lie -> user25 travis hunter, now justin herbert. maybe jayden daniels' mom has the right idea 🤷‍♂️ -> user26 she ain't even speak yet? -> user27 she will eventually. -> user28 grown ass men in a gross ass man's business 🙂‍↔️

yourusername has limited comments .ᐟ

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nflwagsdaily just posted .ᐟ

nflwagsdaily: justin herbert's girlfriend, yourusername, seems to have had enough of the opinions about her relationship. after limiting her comments last tuesday, she made sure to update her bio before going private. we think this gets the message across quite clearly, don't you? 👏

view 242 comments.

user29 that's how you clear a bitch! 🙂‍↕️

user30 she heard the gold digger allegations and had to let y'all know what's up lmfao -> user31 be fr, a software engineer is not making $50 mil a year, she could still be interested in his money -> user32 if that's the case then good for her lmfao

user33 what exactly does this prove though? -> user34 u ppl r never satisfied -> user35 found y/n's burner

user36 mind you the internet sleuths could've just found her very public linkedin profile but whatever it takes lmao -> user37 4.0 from berkeley and they were smearing her name... oh my shayla 😩

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yourusername just posted .ᐟ

yourusername: year two <3

view 20 comments.

yourbestie1 pls tell me you didn't go to applebee's for your anniversary dinner -> yourbestie2 you know better than to ask a question like that -> justinherbert you mean the place we met? bffr -> justinherbert did i use that right? -> yourusername very proud j ❤️

yourmom congratulations you two ❤️❤️❤️ liked by author

yourbestie2 @ justinherbert where are my season tickets -> justinherbert aren't you a rams fan? 🤔 -> yourbestie2 @ chargers your qb is questioning his fans... action must be taken -> chargers season tickets on us? (we'll take it out of justin's paycheck 🤫)

patherbert5 five big booms liked by author

user38 the people would like to know if you were thrown out of the applebee's? -> yourusername no... but we'll try again next year 🤗

justinherbert happy anniversary beautiful 🌹 -> yourusername and hopefully so many more 💞

[utopiastri]

Put That Guy in a SituationTM - look something about Landoscar in a 20/32 type situation has me hooked….trying to not let others on to their predicament, maybe it’s a bit embarrassing how it happened 🤔

hi anon!!! thank you for the prompt! i went a smidge away from my usual cutesy fluff for this one - your suggestion of embarrassment really sparked something in my brain, even if i took it in a slightly different direction. i hope you enjoy!!!

(prompt list here)

“Look, we just gotta act natural,” Lando says.

Or, well, Lando-as-Oscar says, because it sounds like Oscar’s voice and it’s Oscar’s mouth that’s moving, but it’s Lando that’s actually saying the words and–

Lando-in-Oscar’s-body huffs. “You’re having a crisis again aren’t you?”

“You know it’s weirder of you to be 100% ok with this.”

“It’s a body swap curse, mate, it’s not rocket science.”

Oscar runs a hand through his hair and cringes at the uncanny feeling of there being someone else’s hair on top of his head. “I understand the concept, Lando, what I’m struggling with is everything else related to it like, I don't know, how the fuck this happened."

“I don’t know. Do you reckon we need to have sex to break the curse?”

“What?” Oscar squawks, “Why would we need to have sex to break the curse?”

Lando flushes. “I dunno. Just felt like the right solution.”

“Based on what?”

Lando mumbles something about seeing it online once and Oscar chooses to ask no more follow-up questions lest Lando tells him he learnt about it from some random porn he watched once. He heaves a sigh.

“Listen, like you said, we should just act normal. This whole thing is,” Oscar pauses to search for the right word, “Strange. And I’d really rather not bring anyone else into it to begin with.”

“Agreed,” Lando says before adding, “Hey, if we’re still like this for the race tomorrow and I win but in your body, does that mean you get the points?” Oscar glares at him and Lando pouts. “It’s a genuine question!” he whines.

Oscar’s about to point out they have bigger things to focus on than the effects of this on a race when Jon sticks his head into the room.

“Debrief in five, guys.”

“Sounds good, mate,” Lando says, in an accent no human being has ever used before.

Jon blinks at him. He turns to look at Oscar. Or, rather, he turns to look at Oscar who he thinks is Lando. Oscar smiles weakly.

“He’s, uh, trying to do an impression of me doing an Australian impression," Oscar lies, hoping it sounds vaguely believable.

“Oi!” Lando says, “My Australian accent’s mint.”

“Yes, Oscar,” Oscar says pointedly, “Your Australian accent would be mint because you are from Australia.”

Lando's eyes light up in realisation and he starts nodding furiously. “Right, yep, what he said, exactly.”

Jon blinks at both of them this time. He sighs.

“If you two are doing roleplay, I don’t want to hear about it.” Lando and Oscar both start spluttering, but Jon keeps on talking over both of them. “Just be on time for debrief.”

With Jon gone, Oscar breathes a sigh of relief. Or he starts to, until Lando pipes up.

“I still reckon us having sex will fix it.”

Oscar reminds himself that if he kills Lando right now, he’s possibly going to do irreparable damage to his own body.

The thought’s still tempting.

“Is there a particular reason you’re so desperate to have sex with yourself?” he asks, eyebrow raised.

Lando clearly wasn't expecting that question because he freezes. Oscar’s always hated how easily he flushes but right now, watching it brutally incriminate Lando, he can’t help but be grateful for it.

“I’m not fucking desperate to have sex with myself.” He doesn't sound like he's lying, but the blush on his face suggests he's not telling the whole truth.

Maybe…

His eyebrows raise. “So you’re only desperate to have sex with me then?”

Lando looks up at Oscar, eyes wide. He swallows.

Got you, Oscar thinks to himself.

[majestyeverlasting]

Hello! If you are willing I would like to request a Frankie morales x reader oneshot? 🙃🙃 im obsessed with Frankie x wife reader lately and I was thinking maybe you could write somethin where the reader is pregnant and having cramps / contractions while Frankie is out with his friends and calls him all freaked out but even though it’s just false labour he still rushes home anyway?🥰🥰

(I love your writing btw I hope you accept this request thank you <3)

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐚𝐲 | 𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬

Pairing Frankie Morales x Female Reader

Summary A night of laughter, love, and quiet devotion reminds you and Frankie how much your world has grown—especially with your baby on the way.

A/N Thank you so much for this request and your patience, anon! This is my first time writing for Frankie, so let me know what you guys think. 

⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂

Across the living room, the evening news drones so low, the TV might as well not be on at all. Ten minutes ago, Frankie left you alone on the couch to go get ready for a night out. You’d looked up from your book long enough to catch the wink he shot you before disappearing up the staircase.

As easy as it would be for him to stay in, you insisted he go out and enjoy himself. The two of you had finally settled into your new home. Soon enough, the guys were starting to rib him about falling off the face of the earth.

He's getting better at striking a balance these days. 

“Alright, hermosa,” he announces as he descends the stairs. “Here’s what I’m working with...” 

Frankie walks back into the living room in dark-wash jeans and a sage button down. As you set your book aside, he offers a goofy spin in a lighthearted mockery of what you oftentimes do. You try to restrain your smile, but it shines through anyways. Frankie grins like he’s won a prize, teeth glinting along with the sparkle in his dark eyes.

Everyone said he was trouble when you first met. It didn’t take long to realize they meant the intoxicating kind that disarms a room, draws people in, makes them feel seen. The kind you’d never recover from losing if you let slip away. 

A year ago, he got down on one knee and asked you for forever. That was the moment you realized that, in turn, you were the trouble he couldn’t bear to lose.  

Before you have the chance to stand, he stalks over to you and leans down to capture your lips in a brief, tender kiss. 

You smile when he pulls away to stand back up to his full height, all six feet and broad shoulders. Looking up at him from your seated position feels a little funny, but you can't bring yourself to mind. If for no other reason than the gentle way he pinches your upturned chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“Have fun,” you murmur as you blink up at him. 

“I will.”

“And be safe.”  

“Yes ma’am.” Frankie’s touch falls away, and you stand to wrap your arms around his neck.

You tuck your nose into his shirt as his strong arms encircle your waist. He smooths a large hand up your back before stilling at the nape of your neck to deliver a firm but gentle squeeze. As he starts to pull away, you slip your fingers into his hair to scratch his scalp with your nails. It’s been a while since his last haircut, and now the dark strands curl beneath his ears. 

Frankie hums a low note of satisfaction. “Not fair.” 

“Completely fair,” you lilt.

He chuckles and pulls back enough to meet your gaze. His eyes are soft as he says, “Should be back in a couple hours.” 

“I’ll wait up.”

"You don't have to," he says.

"Don't I always?"

He thinks back over the times he's gone out without you, and yeah. You always do.

•••

It's quiet when he arrives back home. 

He kicks his boots off at the door and notices a pink sticky note on the wall above the key holder. There's a smiley face and heart drawn on it along with "welcome back!!!" Frankie feels himself smiling as he plucks it off the wall and saunters further into the house. 

In the living room, one lamp remains on so he can navigate his way through the otherwise dark space. You've folded the throw blanket. Fluffed and arranged the pillows like you do every night before bed. It’s the little things like that, little signs of life, that he’ll never tire of coming back home to. 

When Frankie finally enters the bedroom, he sees your smile in the warm, dim lamplight. You're kneeling on the bed wearing the cutesy black pajama set he likes on you. A breathy chuckle escapes him as he takes you in before his eyes find yours. 

He plays off the warmth in his cheeks by holding up the sticky note you had left for him. 

You tilt your head with innocent, furrowed brows. “Where’d that come from?” 

“Beats me," he plays along as you slide off the bed. 

He sets the note on the dresser so he can rest his hands on your waist when you approach. The scent of vanilla evades his senses in the gentlest way. 

“Did you have fun?” It’s a genuine question, but his mind goes fuzzy when you smooth your hands from his stomach up to his pecs. 

With a distracted nod, his thumbs slip beneath your satin tank top to brush your skin. All he can think about is the gentleness of your touch. The way you begin to toy with the button at the top of his shirt without actually unbuttoning it. 

“But not too much fun, right?” you ask. “You’re not too tired, are you?” 

You finally pop the first button undone, then the next one, then the next. Revealing more and more of the dusting of hair across his tanned chest. 

Rather than answering, he scoops you over his shoulder as you squeak his name. 

- 

Eight Months Later

It’s been a while since Frankie laughed this hard. When he’s finally on the verge of catching his breath, Santiago picks up from where Will left off in the story, and that pleasant side ache returns. If he weren't too busy swiping the tear from his eye, he reckons he’d see every head in the bar turned to gawk at the four cackling hyenas. A live country rock band plays as their soundtrack.

Luckily, that isn’t the case. Like them, everybody is lost in their own little worlds. With their own inside jokes and old stories that endure no matter how many times they're told. 

“And that’s what your ass gets for trying to show off,” Will concludes. It earns him a prompt elbow to the side from his younger brother, whose cheeks are either flushed from the whiskey or embarrassment. 

It had been the story about Benny getting told off by a group of older women during a group trip to Panama. Not in English, but in Spanish. The icing on the cake was that they had been pausing every few words so Santiago could translate for them in real time. 

As their amusement begins to settle, they look around at each other and shake their heads. It’s been too long since they’ve gotten together like this. Frankie takes a small swig from his beer and lets his head rest against the wall behind him. 

Under the dim lights, with drinks on the table, and surrounded by strangers, it feels as though no time has passed at all.  

Benny’s eyes rove over to the recreation room, where people shoot pool and throw darts. 

“I don’t know about y’all, but I’m ready to kick some ass in a game of 501,” he says. 

William folds his hands on the table. “We puttin' money up?”

“Hell yeah, we are,” Benny scoffs and pulls a face. “I’m leaving here with something.” 

“Twenty-five each and the winning team splits the pot?” Santiago proposes. “I call Fish on my team.” He gives Frankie's shoulder a squeeze.

Benny drums a beat on the table. “Let’s do it.” 

They’re in the middle of scooting past other patrons when Frankie’s phone begins buzzing in his pocket. He doesn’t expect to see a picture of your face light up the screen. Santiago is the only one in the group who notices. 

“Gotta take this,” Frankie tells him, and answers the call as he turns away. 

“Hang on one second, honey, I’m getting someplace quiet.” 

To make it to the front of the establishment, he shuffles between a small sea of tables filled with people with loose smiles and glowy faces. He holds the door open for a group of young ladies filing inside, which earns him a series of chirpy thank-yous. The giddy energy of the night fades once he’s outside, as if it was all stuffed within the walls of Dave's Bar and Grill. With the patio being around back, only a few people stand smoking out front. 

The air is warm. A couple of the parking lot lights flicker. Frankie heads toward one of the benches as he says, “Alright, sweetheart, I’m here.”

A heavy breath is the first thing that greets him from the other end of the line. 

“Frankie,” your voice is shaky, and his brow furrows as he takes a seat. 

“Talk to me,” he coaxes, his voice even softer. 

“I’m cramping pretty bad right now.” You take another deep breath. “I think it’s the Braxton Hicks the nurse was telling us about. They’re finally happening.” 

He stands from the bench and begins pacing along the curb. “You sure they're the false ones?” he asks. “You know you’re body better than anybody else…” 

“I’m ninety-nine percent sure.” Another sharp ache pulses low in your stomach, and makes you bite back a small whine. 

Frankie releases his lower lip from between his teeth as guilt tugs at his chest. “Go lay down, okay?” he says as he fishes his truck keys out of his pocket. “Or run yourself a bath if you can manage. Nurse said that’s supposed to help.” 

Shuffling arises on your end. “Okay,” you murmur.

“I’m on my way.” 

Tonight, you can’t muster the willpower to tell him to stay out with his friends. Ever since you hit the thirty-four-week mark, you’ve been hyper-aware of every pang, flutter, and gurgle. Even if you were the one feeling the heat, it was easier to walk through the flames with him. 

“Drive safe, okay?” you say. “Go the speed limit.” 

“I’m always safe.” It’s a white lie, but he was getting much better. Especially now that he was about to have two people looking forward to him arriving home in one piece at the end of the day. 

Life is a delicate, fragile, remarkable thing. It’s a fact that solidified all the more the first time you showed him a black-and-white ultrasound and pointed out your little girl. 

“I’ll be there soon,” he promises. 

Santiago steps outside as he's hanging up, immediately scoping out Frankie. 

“Everything alright, man?” He searches Frankie’s gaze. He’s always analyzing and piecing together. People, places, things. Frankie doesn’t have to say anything. “Your wife and baby okay?” 

Frankie nods, but there’s worry etched across his face. “Gonna head home to be on the safe side.”  

“I’ll let the guys know.” Santiago pulls Frankie into a hug and gives him a few pats on the back. “It was good seeing you tonight.” 

“Likewise.”

“Guess it’ll have to be a playdate next time,” Santiago teases. 

Frankie cracks a smile. 

•••

With the bathroom door cracked, you can hear the familiar shuffling of Frankie entering the house. His keys clink into the bowl shortly before the steps begin to creak under his weight. One purposeful footstep after the next, until he’s filling the doorway with a hand on his hip. But you sit in the bathtub with your eyes closed and your head tipped back. The subtle scent of lavender fills the humid air. You’re only visible from your collarbones up, and your pregnant stomach rises above the bubbly water. 

Rather than speaking, he stands there and takes you in with those soft, dark eyes. You’re beautiful where you lay. His gaze is palpable, and opening your eyes to meet it solidifies for him that you’re okay. It's a silent assurance. These moments when you don't need words have only grown in number. Every trace of worry that once existed has dwindled away.

As he takes a small step inside, he tosses his baseball cap onto the sink counter and runs a hand through his hair. Tension melts from his shoulders in real time. Makes him look even taller where he stands.  

“Hey,” he breathes.

“Hi,” you say, then note, "Your shoes."

The teasing undertone to your words makes him chuckle. At himself, at the fact that he’d rushed home, despite your warning, with a head full of clamoring thoughts. Thoughts of arriving to you in labor and having to deliver his own child. Or packing you into his truck and needing to pull over and do the very same. There was no middle ground.

He’d dedicated years of his life to working under the most intense pressure, but it was his pregnant wife who’d finally thrown that composure off course.  

Yet here you were pointing out the fact that he had tracked his shoes upstairs.

Frankie crouches to untie his boots before kicking them off his feet. He stumbles in the process and has to brace himself on the sink. The smile already budding on your face blooms into a fuller one when he huffs and peeks over at you. When you straighten up, the water sloshes and reveals more of you chest. 

A long sigh escapes him as he sits alongside the tub and stretches his long legs out in front of him. That’s when a laugh bubbles up your throat. Despite his best efforts to retrain his own amusement, he can’t help but join in. The two of you sit there laughing in a mix of relief and acceptance of the fact that your worlds have only just begun to change. 

A comfortable silence soon settles in the space between you. Frankie gets an almost wistful look about him as he stares straight ahead. 

“What are you thinking about?” you ask after a while. 

He rests his arm on the side of the tub. “Us,” he answers. “Being parents.”  

There’s an understated sense of anticipation in his tone that he still hasn’t been able to put into words. A small hint of apprehension lingers too, but the type that propels as opposed to paralyzes. 

You hum as you run a wet hand over your glistening stomach. 

“I love you,” he continues softly. “I love her.”

He reaches out to splay his large hand over your stomach. You smile as he continues talking, “Love that I get to do this with you.” 

Fondness swells in your chest all the more. Like a third lung set on sustaining you too. 

“I’d kiss you right now, but I don’t know how,” you admit. 

Without hesitating, Frankie shifts so he’s able to steady your chin and press his lips to yours. You lift a hand to rest the tips of your fingers against his scruffy cheek. Frankie hums when you ghost your tongue along his lower lip, only to pull away like you have something to say. Before you can speak, he presses back in for one more soft peck, then touches his forehead to yours. 

You feel yourself smiling. “What I was trying to say,” you start, but Frankie kisses you again because you’re right there, and because he can.

Butterflies erupt all throughout your stomach. 

“Go ahead,” he finally coaxes with a small smile, lips brushing yours. “What were you gonna say, hermosa?” There’s a gruff, honeyed quality to his voice that you’re certain is intentional. 

“That I love you too,” you whisper. 

-

Thanks for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. I promise I see them all! 

FRANKIE MASTERLIST 

ALL MASTERLISTS

[labyrinthofsphinx]

Heyo a bit sad rn so I came to your blog to try and cheer myself up. I have two questions. Say the bois get separated for a while, Vox overworks or Alastor gets caught up in some sort of shenanigans. Maybe it reaches a point where the other party starts feeling neglected. If it ever reaches a boiling point before they could solve it, how would they deal?

And my other question is what do the bois do to cheer each other up if the other is sad? If that's been answered before because i have a feeling it has, then :what do they do to cheer each other up when they physically can't be in the same location?

Aw, I’m so sorry Anon. I hope this can cheer you up a little:

So, in general, these guys don't do too well separated for too long. The neglect feeling was more of a thing earlier on, when Vox would get too wrapped up in work. The man doesn't even sleep sometimes, and his schedule is murder. But basically Vox will drop everything to be there for Al, and Alastor quickly figures this out.

Now that said...the opposite isn't necessarily true. But Vox is very good at burying those feelings of neglect deep, mostly with the thought that he shouldn't be feeling this way because it's not like Alastor owes him attention or anything, and so on. He, um, tries to relax himself in different ways until Al gets back, like going to the beach, a ride on his yacht, or throwing himself into work. He distracts himself, essentially, because he knows Al doesn't mean to make him feel neglected...it's just that, in Alastor's mind, he doesn't need to be there for Vox like that.

Now, when they have to be away from each other? Vox calls Alastor from work, every single day, at a scheduled time. They both pretend like its just Alastor telling Vox to get to sleep, but, really, it's just to hear each other's voices. Barring that, Al secretly watches Vox's films to hear his voice and he'll put them on in the background of his day. Vox also has a habit of leaving notes for Alastor everywhere in Al's house before he leaves for a long trip (something he gained from Aunt Edith) and by the time Al finds them all, Vox is back.

Vox, for his part, will set up a state of the art radio receiver anywhere he goes so that he always catches Alastor's show. As said, Alastor doesn't really know when/if Vox ever needs assurance, so its mostly up to Vox to calm himself down.

Thanks for the ask, and I hope you start to feel better soon. <33

[ihopesocomic]

Okay but like??? "They're old enough to know better" look at how they were raised

They're still KIDS who grew up with parents who murdered people and Edge in particular has a disturbing view of death and how him murdering people isn't that bad because they can come back in a different life

Like do the light siblings genuinely know better???? This is the guy who raised them

And this isn't a defense of bad people with the "Oh they were raised to be racist they didn't know any better" or some bs like that

The light siblings are still kids and no one thinks they're perfect little flawless angels, just that wishing death on kid characters who can still grow and redeem themselves and break free from their parents' horrible teachings is kinda fucked up???

Yeah I have no idea what that person was trying to say "They're old enough to know better so being brutally torn apart is okay" Fade and Radiant still have their spots theyre CHILDREN

BOTH FADE AND BRIGHT TRY TO STOP EDGE FROM TORTURING HOPE TOO???? LIKE DID WE FORGET THAT

By that logic Zuko should've been left to die in the snow and never gotten the chance to redeem himself I'm going to scream

Like at least give them time to develop more we barely know them

I didn't think "children with evil parents don't deserve to be brutally mauled actually" was something to debate on

Got nothing more to say other than yes - all of this?

Like I get that the immediate thought is 'this is just a lion comic: who cares?' but I like to think we've built up enough of a rapport to have y'all realise that irl people share certain circumstances with these characters (i.e. growing up in abusive/dysfunctional families) and that maybe - just maybe - vocalising that you think said characters should die before they have a chance to shake off such influences and forge their own path is going to resonate negatively with said individuals. Hence why we're not going to do it just so y'all can get your kicks. Same goes for Vicious being killed by her abuser.

If you can't grasp that, then you're not remotely mature enough to read this comic. I don't give a shit if you're in your 20s and have a college education: sort out your worldview.

And this is why we didn't publish your ask the first time you sent it a few weeks back, anon. Learn how to take a hint at least if you're not willing to stop and think before you slam your keyboard. lol - RJ

[slaaverin]

I was thinking with all the discourse on x about Jimins letter, and the cult and solos trying to scramble to debunk his own words, how they are this or that, just bros, they don’t sleep togetherness, don’t see each other before bed yadda yadda.

If it’s common practice in the military to be in group dorms, to shower together, why scramble to say that Jikook don’t do that, they don’t see each other?

Why the scramble to say they aren’t close?

What is it that people are so afraid of?

Because you’re not telling me if it was Yoongi and Jimin who enlisted, or Jimin and Tae, or Jin and Namjoon, or Hobi and Yoongi, etc etc, that people wouldn’t be celebrating it

So why not Jikook? What is it that has them so unhinged that they are literally resorting to calling them both liars, that Jimins letter was written by PR at Hybe, that cooks sleep elsewhere and have different bed times, when Jimin himself said ‘before bed’.

What is it that makes people shout ‘they are brothers!!!!!!’ Over and over and over again.

Because where is the line?

What would tip them over the more than friends category in SK skinship terms, or even say if they were a man and women?

Would it be the hugs? The constant need to touch, to be together? The cheek to cheek selcas? The spending special days together? The tones they use with each other? The teasing, bickering and flirting? The coy looks and smiles? The way they know what the other is thinking? The way they have their inside jokes? The way they are so domestic in the kitchen, JK cooks and JM being Sous Chef. The comfort and companionship they have sought out with the buddy system. The love they exude?

am I missing anything?

I mean I probably am, that’s the quick notes version of their bond. My point being that all of that alone is striking, means their relationship is specific to them and them alone, it stands out, it’s beautiful. It should be celebrated and cooed over, the very least it should be respected.

Is it then that this is what they fear? That they do in fact see all of that, see Jimin writing that he and JK are having (read: deep) conversations about life before bed, and think oh hell no, gotta make up a lie to stop that being true! As if that is how it works.

I don’t know what the futures holds, what the comeback will be like, I just actually hope everything will work out the way each of them want it to. That they are allowed to mature, that they can hold space for each other to grow, to be themselves more than ever. That boundaries are put in place and respected between the members themselves, and the fans. That this will be a new era, as they said in Festa and since; that they won’t hold back things they have wanted to say but couldn’t. It’s a reoccurring theme, JK has said it in lives, Jimin in his last live, now this letter.

I just want them to be loved, and to allow themselves to be love in return. They deserve it.

Anon, I truly feel the same way.

I think solos, antis and tkkers trying to disprove jikook's bond is for many reason. But the simple main one is that they don't want it to be true.

It all comes from desire, they want a different story, because they have this fantasy, because homophobia, and other reasons. They want something else, something that will never be true because it is just that, a story they told themselves because it makes them feel safer and more in control. It's their ego telling them "it should be another way instead!" "This isn't right" (homophobia again), and you know how powerful the ego can be. When someone wants something so bad, some people might go to extremes to get it, no matter the cost.

They believe their little scenario (that they don't like each other, that they are not close) for different reasons and each person think they are totally right about that. Each person thinks their perspective is the best one.

You know that wars have been fought over different perspectives?

Belief is a very powerful thing. Most people cling into some beliefs because it makes them feel more safe, their ego overcompensating over some internal lack.

At least with the scenario they can control the narrative. It is known and comfortable. Because the alternative is unknown, it's wild, it's unpredictable, it's scary. They might lose control, you see? it all comes from fear. Fear of something being different. And jikook ARE different. Their relationship stands out a lot within the group.

And you know what I don't think they actually see the same things as we do when they watch jikook.

Because they made up their mind already, they made up their own story, their ego doesn't care what's actually real! They watch the content through their already skewed lense, and they are so sure they are right. So every single detail will be used to reinforce their belief. To say, "See, I am right! He said this, so they are not close! They can't be"

Ohhh, to what extent the ego would go to be right. You know I don't think they are even aware they are twisting things and making up lies (well of course some of them do) but I think the majority genuinely believe what they see is true. It's true because they absolutely want it to be true. They don't want jikook to be close, to have this special bond, because it doesn't align with their personal selfish desires. "I want JK with Tae!" "I want jikook dating girls and not boys!" "I want my fave to be this way instead!"

I think jikook truly unsettle them to their core. It triggers something inside that they don't want to look at, because it's uncomfortable, so they reject it entirely. They choose something else to believe in, because that makes them feel better. It's less dangerous.

That's why many tkkers are also homophobic, weirdly. They have this ship idea in their heads, but since their ship never happens on camera, they believe it exist somewhat outside of camera, outside of reality. It's a pocket where they can project any types of ideas within the relationship, they can explore their inner fantaisies, let their imagination run wild, and create what they want instead of what is. It escapism, it's dreaming, and it helps them cope with reality that is different.

Because the reality is that jikook have this incredible bond, here, tangible, real, with a incredible depth, and it makes them scared shit. Because that's not something they can control, because it is different, and actually gay. Like for real. Not in a hypothetical "what ifs" scandalous and a little taboo way. No, it's real. But it's so outside of their scope of what's "socially acceptable" that they simply will never accept it. "Because it's BAD" mind you. It's bad and wrong and shouldn't exist. Because they think righteousness is something else entirely. Because they believe their sense of right from wrong is correct.

Of course it's not.

Trying to reason with them is absolutely pointless. It will always be a battle of ego, or different perspectives clashing. These people will not change, it would be too scary to them.

I'm afraid jikook will absolutely never be loved by them the way they deserve. And the hate and the lies and the toxicity is always going to be here. Because you know how much time it takes to actually grow in awareness? To change beliefs? To evolve towards more love? Guys it could take several lifetimes no joke.

I get your sentiment anon, I do.

I think jikookers in general spend too much time fighting with all of them, because it frustrates us so much that jikook are not loved.

But forget it guys, our frustration will only grow if we focus on them too much. They are where they are at, these people. They can't see anything else. I'm not even sure they are able to. Ego and beliefs are so strong, it's very hard for someone to go against it.

They will never see it our way.

Oh, in an ideal world, everyone would love jikook and celebrate them.

But we are in a world where we're thrown with people on different levels of consciousness, and it's just something we have to deal with. It's not comfortable. It can be horrible. But that's just the way it is.

It all comes from fear in the end. Fear of something being different than you, fear of losing control, fear of the unknown.

These guys, beneath layers of piled up beliefs and lies and stories within their psyche, are just scared, that's all. And they might not be aware that they are.

Fear keeps them from seeing things from their heart unfortunately.

And overcoming fear is one of the hardest thing to do in this world.

So, don't be too frustrated with them. It sucks, yes. Of course I wish it would be different. Of course I would want them to *see the light* at some point, but it's not very realistic or easy. None of this situation is easy. People are very complex.

These people will remain here, battling for their ego, burning twitter with their hate, twisting things, making up lies. There's nothing we can do about it, they are here to stay. The only thing we can control is how we react to them. Because I see so many times jkkers also using animal names and insults, battling them with their own ego and hate, and that's just not it. It is so futile. It will never change anything. And we can be better than this. I'm not saying I have a magical solution, I don't. I think it's up to each individual to discern what's right for them in their heart.

In an ideal world, we would all come together in harmony, and praise and celebrate jikook's bond for what is it, something wonderful, magical, beautiful, and see it with our heart and soul, and bask in love and share it between ourselves, and just revel in the magnificence. All of us. How great that would be. It would be a little bit like heaven, right?

Well we're not in heaven anymore, and if we wanted that we would have stayed there and not come here on this earth. Here things will inevitably be flawed, because humans are not and never will be perfect.

But the best we can do is stay within groups of like-minded people, people sharing the same love for love, and create our own little paradise here to enjoy jikook's bond and celebrate it.

It will not be the world's, but it will be ours. Which is already something, I guess?

I went on a long tengent I'm sorry

I can't wait to see what the members will say after military. It's going to be very interesting. Haters are gonna lose their minds (which is funny at this point XD)

Let's each of us love and support jikook, for the people who can't. Let's share their love so it might touch somebody else's heart.

And do our best to be good humans, right?

No matter what happens.

Love you my fellow jikookers 💜