#i mean these things are planned to the last tiny detail

[m4rv3l-girl]

Forget Me Not

Bucky x Y/N

Bucky wants to pop the question. Except, he’s forgotten one very important thing…

Requests Open!

Warnings: None. Just fluff!

The night was perfect.

From the clear autumn sky dusted with stars to the way the city seemed to glow just for them, Bucky could tell this was their moment. He’d spent weeks planning, going over every little detail to make this evening unforgettable. But as he adjusted his shirt for the hundredth time, nerves began prickling down his spine.

Across from him, Y/N looked stunning. Her smile was warm and knowing, and Bucky could tell she’d noticed his antsy energy. She seemed suspicious, maybe even expecting something big, and he couldn’t help the soft grin tugging at his lips as he watched her. She always knew him too well.

“Kitten, you’re staring,” he teased, breaking the silence and reaching for her hand across the table.

She raised an eyebrow, giving him a playful look. “Me? You’re the one who’s been adjusting your shirt for the last five minutes. Is something up?”

“Just want to look my best for you,” he said smoothly, though his heart was pounding. He could feel the tiny box in his pocket, a little weight pressing against his chest with each beat. “Can’t a guy want to look sharp for his girl?”

“You always look sharp to me,” she replied, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “But there’s something else, isn’t there?”

Bucky swallowed, trying to find his calm. “Maybe. But I think it’ll be worth the wait.”

As the dinner continued, Bucky did his best to act natural, though every word and every touch felt like a countdown to the question he was about to ask. The restaurant was quiet, with soft music playing in the background and a gentle hum of conversations around them. He’d chosen this place because it felt intimate, a cozy spot tucked away from the rest of the world where it could be just them.

They had fallen into a comfortable rhythm, sharing memories, laughter, and quiet looks that spoke volumes. Bucky smiled, watching as Y/N took a sip of her wine, and felt his heart nearly burst with the quiet joy of being here, in this moment, with her.

“So, remember that time you tried to teach me how to cook?” she teased, raising her eyebrows at him over the rim of her glass.

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh, come on, Doll. I wasn’t that bad.”

“Not that bad?” she echoed, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Bucky, you set spaghetti on fire. Spaghetti. I didn’t even think that was possible.”

“Hey, the stove was more complicated than it looked,” he protested, his lips quirking into a grin. “Besides, who needs fancy pasta when I make such a good breakfast-for-dinner?”

“True,” she admitted, laughter still in her eyes. “I will give you credit for those pancakes. I mean, only a man as charming as you could convince me that a plate of slightly burned pancakes was a five-star meal.”

“‘Slightly burned pancakes,’” he muttered, feigning offense. “I prefer ‘crispy edges.’ And let’s not forget, you said they were the best pancakes you’d ever had. I still remember that.”

“Did I really?” she asked, a hint of a blush creeping up her cheeks as she glanced away.

“Oh, you absolutely did. It’s one of my fondest memories, Doll,” he said, leaning in slightly. His voice softened, carrying the weight of his sincerity. “Anytime I can make you smile like that…those are the moments I want to remember forever.”

She stilled, looking at him with wide eyes before a gentle smile softened her features. “You always say the sweetest things.”

“Only for you, Kitten,” he murmured, his voice low. He couldn’t tear his eyes away, captivated by the glow of the candlelight on her face, the way her eyes shone with laughter and warmth. In that moment, he knew without a doubt—this was it.

This was where he was supposed to be.

As they finished their meal, he decided it was time. He reached into his jacket pocket, feeling for the small box, but instead, his fingers met…nothing. His heart stilled, and a sense of dread clawed its way up his throat. He checked his other pockets quickly, all while keeping his expression neutral.

No box.

Panic settled in as he realized what this meant.

The ring—the one he’d spent days picking out, picturing the exact moment he’d slide it onto her finger—it was sitting at home, in his nightstand drawer. He’d been so focused on planning every single detail of tonight that he’d forgotten the most important part.

Y/N’s voice broke through his thoughts. “Bucky, you alright?”

His gaze snapped back to her, and he realized he was probably giving her the most ridiculous, deer-in-the-headlights look. He tried to smile, but he could feel the strain. “I…uh, yeah. Just…y’know. Maybe I’m just nervous.”

“Since when does Bucky Barnes get nervous?” she teased, her eyes sparkling with affection. She reached across the table, taking his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “You can tell me anything, you know that.”

His shoulders slumped slightly. There was no use hiding it from her, especially not with her looking at him like that. He took a deep breath, brushing his thumb over her knuckles as he held her hand.

“Alright, so, full disclosure,” he said, his voice low and a little sheepish. “I had this whole night planned out, Doll. Every little thing, down to the music they’d be playing and the wine we’d drink. And I was gonna…ask you something really important.”

He paused, watching her expression carefully. Her eyes widened slightly, a faint blush rising to her cheeks, and he could tell she was already piecing it together.

“You were going to propose,” she whispered, a smile beginning to form.

“Yeah,” he admitted, letting out a chuckle that was equal parts relieved and embarrassed. “Except…I forgot the ring. Left it right at home in my nightstand.”

For a moment, there was silence. Bucky braced himself, half expecting her to be disappointed or to tease him mercilessly for messing up such a big moment. But instead, she broke into soft, melodic laughter, her eyes filled with the same warmth that made him fall for her in the first place.

“Oh, Bucky,” she said, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “Did you really think I’d care about a ring?”

He blinked, his heart hammering in his chest. “I just…I wanted it to be perfect. Wanted everything to be just right for you.”

She reached across the table, resting her hand on his cheek, her thumb brushing over his cheekbone. “You don’t need a ring to ask me. I’d say yes a thousand times over, even without it.”

He swallowed, a rush of emotion catching him off guard. Here he was, standing on the edge of everything he’d ever wanted, and she was telling him it was already perfect, just because they were here together.

“Doll…” he began, his voice rough with emotion. “You’re sure? No fancy ring, or the big speech…?”

She smiled, nodding. “Positive. Just you and me, right here.”

He got up from his chair, kneeling beside her with a grin, his hands cradling hers as he looked up into her eyes. “Then let’s make it official. Y/N, will you marry me?”

Her answer came in the form of a radiant smile, a simple “yes” whispered through her tears.

He pulled her into his arms, the two of them laughing and holding each other, oblivious to the other diners. She was everything he needed—everything he’d ever wanted—and in that moment, nothing else mattered.

They left the restaurant hand in hand, walking down the quiet street with the stars shining above them. Bucky looked over at her, feeling that familiar warmth flood his chest as he squeezed her hand.

“When we get home,” he murmured, pulling her close, “I’ll give you that ring. Promise.”

She laughed, leaning into him as they walked. “You could’ve proposed with a ring pop, Hun, and I’d have said yes..”

He grinned, pressing a kiss to her forehead, then her cheek, then her lips. “Doll, you’re my best girl..”

“Damn right.” She stated.

And as they strolled through the city, wrapped in each other’s arms, Bucky knew that forgetting the ring had been the best mistake he’d ever made.

[randomfandomss]

I mean if Rolin said that the main reason they wouldn’t show Daniel’s tuning is because it would mean they’d have to re-build a set they’re not going to re-build because it’s too much effort/$$$… that’s him also confirming that Daniel’s turning DID happen in Dubai/the penthouse. Otherwise it wouldn’t be an issue and they could show it in S3 but like, he said it *because* that’s where it happened, unless I’m missing something 🤔

Oops sorry, I guess I didn't remember the whole comment but I still strongly feel it's such bs. He is definitely trolling us.

First of all, he literally can't and shouldn't be telling us what happened or didn't happen.

On top of that the reason is kinda lame according to me. They couldn't film because the set has been destroyed? Come onn. I don't think so. They could've filmed and then destroyed the set then maybe.

If they won't show us Daniel's turning then it must be because it is important for the way the story unfolds. If that is so, then I'm excited to see what's the reason.

From what I can gauge, Rolin and co. respect the story too much to not show such important moments they know the fans are dying to see. They simply won't do that and if they do, it must be due to strong reasons.

Also I feel it would be a bit sudden if Louis moves to some other place in the beginning of s3 after finally have carved out a space for himself in the Dubai penthouse. After decorating it, putting up Paul's portrait and Claudia's dress.

I think that place, at this point, holds a lot of meaning to not come into picture at all at any point in the future.

[synqiri]

ALL MINE.

or, you find out he adores it when you call him yours.

PAIRING: wanderer x gn!reader

WARNINGS: chocolate

WORDCOUNT: 0.8K || CONTENT: slight crack, fluff, sappy af, same yn from “you have a lover?!”

NOTES: I LOVE HIM SM

you are smacked in the arm by a box of chocolates, and you barely react in time to catch the tiny thing before it clatters to the ground. 

“hey,” you complain, glowering at him as he sticks out his tongue. “can’t you hand it to me nicely?”

wanderer sniffs. “the fact that it wasn't aimed at your face is generous enough.”

you make a face at him, mimicking his words. then, with a click of his tongue, you duck with a yelp as he swats at the back of your head. you won’t forgive him this time, you grumble to yourself. you pout. he’s always so mean to you.

the chocolates are your favourite kind, you realise as you’re unwrapping the box. perfectly bite-sized too.

“i take back everything i just said,” you tell him eagerly, a grin splitting your face wide open. “darling, you’re the best.”

to that, he only huffs in reply.

you wonder just how exactly his fans could afford to buy these types of things so regularly, especially for a guy who would never like them back. these chocolates were expensive. you pop a piece into your mouth, but before you can offer one to wanderer, you find him already stalking off down the street.

archons, he can be so temperamental sometimes. for a second, you wonder why it is him of all people you choose to like. well, whatever the case, you wouldn’t change a thing.

dashing up to him, you fall into step with him easily. 

“i love your fans,” you tell him cheerily. “they always buy the best chocolate.”

“huh, how amusing. i wonder just who was the buffoon running around spreading that rumour about how i loved chocolates?”

you wave his words away with a flap of your hand. “let’s not worry too much about the details. i love chocolate and you love me, so that means you love chocolate by extension.”

he sighs, utterly weary of your nonsense. still, he does not say a thing in objection, and you count that as a win. 

“anyway, who was it this time?” you ask. 

“eh,” he says, a brow raising. “merely a classmate of yours. why? jealous?”

“you wish.”

oftentimes, you feel incredibly lucky you aren’t the jealous type. coupled with the fact that wanderer is undeniably, irrevocably yours, you’re rarely ever bothered by the amount of attention he gets. if anything, it’s a damn compliment, considering that of all people, it is you who he has entrusted his heart. 

if you were jealous every single time he receives a confession, you’d have imploded not a week into your relationship. you laugh a bit at the thought.

wanderer is the jealous one in the relationship, you think. while he may not be entirely free with his affection, he is certainly open with his possessiveness. you are his lover, his heart and his fool, and though he’d never admit it, you know he loves when you call yourself his.

he’s probably scared away about five people who have or were planning to confess to you.

“you have so many admirers,” you declare dramatically, sighing woefully. “what do you want little ol’ me to do?”

tossing the now empty box of chocolates into a bin, you sling an arm around his shoulders, causing him to stumble. he makes a soft, grumbling noise of disapproval, but that is something you’ve long learnt to ignore. he’d tell you outright if he actually hated something.

you almost smack a big, fat kiss to his cheek, but you decide not to overdo it for now. 

“it's not as if i can go track down every last one of them and tell them to stop, can i? it wouldn't stop many from trying their luck with you anyway. also, the gifts are always tasty.”

“every last one of them is an idiot,” he harrumphs cockily. “as if i would spare any of them a single shred of attention.”

dropping your arm from his shoulder, you move to take his hand in yours instead.

“of course you wouldn't,” you say confidently. “you're mine. who else would you give your attention to but me?”

“you don’t own me, fool.”

you laugh. he says that, yet the grip he has on your hand only tightens, and the smirk on his face has melted into a smile sweeter and true. he glances away, embarrassed though he will admit it not. 

this time, it is you who smirks, raising a brow in the same fashion he usually does. “yeah? that's weird, ‘cuz here i was, thinking that i did.”

he throws his head back with an incredulous laugh. “you’re utterly ridiculous.”

“you love me,” you quip. 

you bring his hand up to your lips, giving the back of his palm a lingering kiss. when you steal a glance at his face, you find it flushed a dizzying pink, creeping from the apples of his cheeks to the tips of his ears. 

you sigh dreamily. “i can't believe you're all mine.”

“believe me,” he says, rolling his eyes. his gaze is soft, contrasting the sharpness in his tone. “i can hardly wrap my head around it either.”

[seresinhangmanjake]

The Favorite

dad!Jake "Hangman" Seresin x reader

Summary: The Daggers meet your and Jake's baby girl for the first time and arguments over who will be her favorite aunt or uncle quickly follow.

Notes/Warnings: part of the Oh, Baby Universe, but can be read alone. Based on a suggestion from @tgmreader

Words: 1288

Between the ‘She’s like your clone, Jake,” from Nat, the ‘Is anyone else surprised Hangman beat us to the baby train?’ from Bob, and the offended ‘Wait, you two were hooking up and you didn’t tell me?’ from Javy, Jake is clearly exhausted. Not that he didn’t anticipate being worn out after introducing his daughter to his team, you both did, but the last forty-five minutes have far surpassed expectations.

Being confined in a room with the Daggers historically proves to have its drama—whether in the form of unnecessary argument or playful teasing—but with your new baby girl at the center of everyone's attention, drama has started to take on new meaning in the form of obsessively watching Eve as if she might start doing tricks or giving you both grief for not spilling every detail of your ‘sneaky, secret relationship’ before this moment. To your relief, though, they’ve steered clear of asking questions about your absence over the majority of the past year. They don’t push, knowing that information will be revealed with time.

“It’s just…” Mickey begins as his eyes snap back and forth from the baby to Jake, “...so weird.”

When you chuckle, Jake rolls his eyes. “It’s not weird,” he counters. 

“It’s pretty weird, man. You’re, like, a dad.”

“Lots of people are dads,” Jake says as he runs his knuckle down the cheek of the infant in your arms—his new little love. 

“Yea, but you’re the dad of Y/N’s baby.”

As Bradley snorts at the obvious, you look to Jake to check on the effect of Mickey’s unfiltered words. His eyes are on your face and you smile to soften the sudden twinge of uneasiness speckled amongst the various green flecks in his irises. 

Though Jake has expressed mental security in his place within the lives of you and your child, you fear what might occasionally be running through his mind. The last thing you want infecting his confidence is the consideration that maybe this situation is weird, that maybe he isn’t meant to be the father of your baby because he wasn’t intentionally chosen for that role. 

Eve wasn’t planned. You can’t change that. And the choices you made when you discovered your pregnancy are enough to have any man reasonably questioning himself. But there is no other man you want as your baby’s father. Jake is it. You’re pretty positive he was always meant to be it, because your brain refuses to picture another in his place. 

Jake’s stare breaks when Bradley starts to speak. “We all knew how these two felt about each other, even though they were doing nothing about it,” he says, shooting you and Jake a smirk so quick it’s barely acknowledged before he looks back to the group of pilots. “I promise you guys, once it fully sinks in, it won’t feel so wild that they accidentally made a tiny human.”

Nat’s head snaps up from Eve, but her finger remains wrapped in the infant’s smaller ones. “When, exactly, were you given enough time for it to sink in?” There is suspicion in her tone. Then her eyes go wide. “Did you already meet the baby?” she asks before turning to you and Jake. “Did Rooster meet her before the rest of us?”

As if sensing the shift in the room, Eve lets out a little whine and starts to wiggle in your hold. 

“Yes, Nat,” Bradley answers for you. You can feel the sass bubbling around him as his arms cross over his chest. “By a whole three days.”

“Three days matters,” she retorts. “It could be the difference that makes you Eve's favorite. The earlier the interaction, the better.”

“She’s only a few months old. You might still have a chance, Nat,” Reuben chimes from the sideline.

“Don’t bet on it,” Bradley snorts. His sass is so expertly conveyed you’re shocked his tongue doesn’t stick out to accompany his words. 

You’d scold him if not for the fact that these two often enjoy ruffling each other’s feathers when the opportunity arises. It’s all in good fun, but sometimes, depending on the topic, the teasing aspect goes over their heads. 

You suppose it’s flattering that being your child’s favorite is enough to cause a bit of an upset, but it’s wasted energy. Jake will be Eve’s favorite. The Father and The Favorite are not mutually exclusive, and you know in a room full of the people she loves most in the world, Eve will never fail to run straight into her father’s arms.

Nat, however, does not consider that inevitability as she carefully slips her finger from Eve’s to face the six-foot-tall brunet head-on. 

Jake mutters a curse, fingers rubbing across his forehead.

With his hands raised, Javy takes a step forward as if to prevent a physical altercation. “Alright, everybody take a breath,” he says. The winning, cocky grin that has tempted a woman or two or thirty is spread across his face. Then he points to himself. “I'm going to be the favorite. I'm her father's best friend.”

“I don't think that guarantees anything,” Bob says, only to receive a scowl in return.

It’s then that Mickey throws his own name onto the ballot. “You know, if we base this on entertainment value, she’ll obviously like me best. I’m the funniest.”

“Also the most irresponsible,” Reuben adds.

“What’s that got to do with it?”

“Um, everything,” Nat clarifies as Bob nods in agreement. “For one, you’ll never be the babysitter.”

“If you were the babysitter you’d need a babysitter,” Bradley chuckles, patting Mickey on the back. 

Bob clears his throat and pushes his glasses up his nose. “That is very true; it would be chaos. What baby Eve here could use is a calming presence, and that’s me, so–”

“I’m calm,” Reuben interjects, pulling a scoff out of Javy.

“You also come up with insane ideas that make everyone miserable,” Javy says. “What are you going to do, have the baby compete in challenges only to suffer through two hundred push-ups if she loses?” he asks. “I think that’s grounds for immediate disqualification.”

Reuben’s response is drowned out by the additions of each pilot arguing their case for favorite aunt or uncle, and you’re too drained from the last hour to attempt untangling voices.

Jake sighs and shakes his head before taking your hand in his and leading you out of the living room, up the stairs to where Eve sleeps. You’re thankful that, at some point, despite the noise filling the room where your friends remain, your little girl managed to fall asleep. As you place her in her crib, you glance at Jake. 

He’s sitting on the loveseat on the opposite side of the room, one hand running down his face, the other reaching out for you. When you take that hand, he pulls you onto his lap, shifting around until you’re comfortable with your back leaning against the armrest. A palm draws a lazy line of warmth up and down your leg.

“You’re a trouper, Honey,” he says, eyes unmoving from your knee.

You chuckle. “It could’ve been worse.”

“We should’ve done it one at a time; single-file line. The last thing I wanted was for you to be overwhelmed.”

Sitting a little straighter, you reach up to cup Jake’s cheek and guide his face toward yours. “Jake, I wasn’t overwhelmed. I’m fine and so is Eve,” you promise him. “Besides, they’re my friends, too. I knew what we were getting into.”

Jake leans into your touch before turning his head to kiss your palm. “They’re all crazy,” he says.

“Yes, but they’re ours,” you reply. Then you nudge your head in the direction of the crib. “And now hers.”

---

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @sailor-aviator @penguin876 @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @shanimallina87 @crowsreadsarahjmaas @mamachasesmayhem @sky2nd @jessicab1991 @rosedurin @averyhotchner @horseshoegirl @roosteraloha @b-bradshaw @memeorydotcom @ryiamarie @ateliefloresdaprimavera

[lissomelace]

THE EUROPA CLIPPER LAUNCHED THIS MORNING, AND I AM SO NOT NORMAL ABOUT IT!!!!!

Space is so fucking awesome. We're headed to one of JUPITER'S MOONS!

Every time a launch happens, it makes the latent space enthusiast in the back of my brain jump up and down. It also derailed all my plans for today. I did have plans.

Instead, someone made one comment about how I could now maybe make mission patches on my embroidery machine, and the space thing crossed over with my current hyperfixation (silm) to produce THIS:

Mission patch for the launch of Gil-Estel! A bit messy, but a good place to start!

Design and linguistics details under the cut, because I put WAY too much thought into it and now must talk SOMEONE's ear off about it. Feel free to ignore this bit:

So, to start: Elvish NASA. I chose to call them Vardildi Elengolmo Vilciryamoyë, or VEV. The Followers of Varda, Astronomers and Astronauts. This could very much be totally wrong. Vardildi is Varda+the suffix used in Yavannildi, the followers of Yavanna. Elengolmo comes from the coined word for astronomer, Elengolmë (star-lore), with the -o suffix from nolmo, wise person. Vilciryamoyë takes the vil- from the root of vilya, meaning air, sky. ciryamo is mariner, and yë is the suffix added to the second word meaning 'and'. (I may be very, VERY wrong on this! If anyone has better ideas, I very much welcome input/guidance/constructive criticism)

So I stuck the tengwar for this on either side of the patch. (None of the tengwar is all that legible, though, I'm working on getting that sorted out) Most NASA mission patches don't actually have NASA on them, but I put it on anyway. Here is the tengwar and the start of a logo I made an attempt at (the tehta is supposed to be a shooting star, but that did NOT come through clearly in the embroidery [because it's tiny]):

(Probably going to try to make an elvish NASA patch before too long, honestly)

Most NASA patches (from research I did with great self-restraint here) have the (last) names of the astronauts. Not sure if they also have the name of the craft or if that's generally somewhere else, but I put both--Eärendil Ardamírë (his fathername and mothername) are the tengwar at the bottom of the patch, and Vingilotë is written on the keel of the ship. None of these are legible because they are small, and my machine has limits. It's a work in progress. Also I apologize for the bad lighting in the photo.

NASA patches sometimes also have a mission motto. That's the tengwar across the top of the patch here-- aiya Eärendil elenion ancalima, Hail Eärendil, brightest of stars (a common cry among elves and Frodo [when facing Shelob]).

(I half wanted to do something a bit more funny--maybe something like 'Now I have become Venus,' or 'Do I get to come down?' but this was a bit easier since it comes pre-translated into Quenya and tengwar, and also I have no faith in my Quenya translations that are any longer than a word)

The horizon is flat because Númenor exists, in the middle there between the shore of Middle-Earth and a teensy bit of Valinor and the Enchanted Isles.

The design for the Silmaril is sort of taken from the heraldic device Tolkien designed for the Silmarilli (though it isn't clear), and it is rayed with the six-pointed star from Eärendil's device. (I stuck the moon phases from the same source around the edges as well)

This was really fun, even if it might be the silliest thing I've ever made! It definitely needs some workshopping--i don't mind the black lines framing some sections from the background fabric, but I might try turning all the tengwar into lines of stitches instead-the satin columns really are illegible.

I now need to restrain myself from doing some sort of NASA/Astronaut Earendil AU, because it now sounds kind of fun (I do not have the background knowledge for this)

Sources:

NASA patches here: https://www.shopnasa.com/collections/patches

Quenya translations here: https://www.elfdict.com/

Tengwar transcriptions here: https://www.tecendil.com/

And if you want info on the Europa Clipper mission, here: https://science.nasa.gov/mission/europa-clipper

Embroidery digitization done with Embrilliance Stitchartist 1, embroidery done with a Brother SE630 machine. Thread is Brothread Cotton and YLI cotton bobbin thread, with a little sulky rayon on the Silmaril. Cloth is a black linen from Fabric Wholesale Direct.

[notjustjavierpena]

OKAY HEAR ME OUT Husband Javier and the reader are fighting the whole day but trying to repress it because of their kids- After they're asleep the two are arguing again and then boom makeup sex 😋 thank you angel !!!!

Fight

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: This request literally had me up all night, and now it has come to life and possibly turned into one of the most sensual pieces I’ve ever written. I’m obsessed with them. 

Summary: You feel overlooked and unappreciated. Javier says the wrong thing and hell breaks loose, but he also knows how to say sorry. 

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18 Smut (mdni!), domestic life and dynamic, grownups being assholes to each other, hurt/comfort, saying sorry to each other and to your kids because I’m healing my inner child, crying, pregnancy, pregnancy sex, passionate and rough sex, MAKEUP SEX!!!, clit stim, creampie, dirty talk, praise kink, love love love, they are just crazy about each other 

Word count: 4.2k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49596877

Fight

Chucho Peña is coming over tomorrow and that’s fine. 

You’ve made plans to make plans at this point though. The list of things you need to do before he arrives still gets longer every time you have a moment to think about it to yourself, teeny tiny details adding up to a day that’ll keep you busy from the moment you wake up. It would have been fine if you didn’t have to get the kids out of bed and prepared for school, and then go to work too, right on top of cleaning, shopping, cooking, and hosting — at 34 weeks pregnant.

Javier is Javier about it, reassuring you that it will be fine and that you just need to take a breath whilst he stands in the door to the garden, back towards you and smoking his morning cigarette whilst you try to tell Inés that she should have cornflakes instead of lucky charms for breakfast. 

“Oh,” Javier says after stubbing out the cigarette in the ashtray that Lucas has made for him in arts and crafts class. He turns around and rests against the doorframe, “Can we have that chocolate cake you made last time? The one with the white chocolate frosting?”

You never personally thought that you’d ever get into an argument about chocolate cake. If you’d said this to the child version of yourself, she would have laughed out loud and told you that nobody could ever be angry about anything to do with dessert. Especially not chocolate desserts. Yet here you are, letting your fatigue get the better of you.

“Sure,” you let out a loud sigh, dragging it out to really let your husband know that you are not happy about his input, “Sure, Javi, I’ll just add it to my ever-growing list of things I need to do for your father.”

You hear it as soon as it leaves your mouth but you’re too stubborn to backtrack, watching Javier go rigid in the door. He furrows his brow in confusion, and then his expression turns into a frown and eventually a scowl. He doesn’t look downright angry but not happy either. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asks defensively, body language telling you that he is getting ready for another attack. He enters the kitchen like he is walking on eggshells, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose, “I only asked you if we could. You have every right to say no, and not be pi—“

Inés looks up at him with big brown eyes that are similar to his own. He swallows down the word, replaces it with something more child-friendly, “And not be rude about it.”

“Say no and watch you be a giant toddler about it? Great, I’ll definitely choose that,” you scoff, running on autopilot and clearing the kitchen counter whilst you argue. Out of the corner, you see Inés starting to squirm in her seat but you’re too far gone by now, “It’s not even my father, and I have to do everything for the preparation because you’re oh-so-important.”

“So we’re just never having my dad over ever again?” Javier seethes, mouth twitching in anger and threatening to put on a violent smile. He has some kind of ability to piss you even more off when he is just about to smile during arguments. 

“That’s not what I said, and that’s not the point,” you stubbornly bend down, hand on your round belly, to put your own plate into the dishwasher. Sebastian is due soon, kicking you as your pulse rises due to anger. Javier looks like he is contemplating whether to help you straighten again or not. 

“Then what is the point?”

With a hand on the edge of the kitchen counter, you manage to stand upright once more. You face Javier, finally scowling right back at him and he seems to shrink a little underneath your fury, “I’m exhausted, Javier. When do you think I have had a night to myself? I know you have a busy schedule, I do, but God—“

You drag the last word out, running a hand through your hair in frustration, “But you went out with Steve just days ago. I need to cook, clean, do the grocery shopping, take care of two kids, and - by the way - do it all with someone kicking my bladder every goddamn minute of the day. Which - by the way - is your doing.”

There is no reason to sound as venomous as you do, but you suspect that half of it is exhaustion and the other half is hormones getting the better of you and ridding you of better judgment. 

“Fine, you win,” Javier makes a display of holding his hands up in surrender but he mixes it with a roll of his eyes, and you almost go for his throat, “I’m a terrible husband.”

“Oh, you did not ju—“ You raise your voice.

Suddenly, you hear sniffling beside you. It pulls you right out of your head and makes you observe your surroundings, and with the way that Javier flinches, it seems to be doing the same to him. 

Inés' little voice breaks your heart, the sight of her even more so when you see she has covered her ears with her hands, “Mamá. Why are you yelling at Papá? Don’t you like each other anymore?”

Javier sends you a look that makes your stomach drop, something that tells you that you are not done here. He looks absolutely furious with you, especially after seeing his daughter cry.

But then he sucks in a deep breath and crosses the room to crouch down beside Inés. He rubs her back soothingly, “Nos gustamos mucho, mija.”

Your legs have made you join them before your brain can even get the idea. Ever so gently, you run your hand over Inés' hair, “I’m so sorry, baby. We won’t shout anymore. Sometimes we get bad feelings. Remember when we talked about those?”

Javier looks at you with his mouth still a thin line and you glare back at him without Inés seeing. He straightens to get a piece of paper towel, first dabbing his daughter’s eyes and then blowing her nose afterward. 

Lucas Peña peeks into the kitchen from the hallway. He looks like someone who has just woken up, hair sticking out in the same way that his father’s sometimes does, but it’s accompanied by a concerned expression on his face as he watches the scene in the kitchen, “Why were you fighting?”

“We weren’t fighting,” you reassure and hold out your arm. Lucas goes to press into your side, and you respond to his affection by resting a hand on his head, “Okay?”

“Okay,” Lucas replies but he doesn’t sound convinced. 

From the outside, it probably looks like the perfect family portrait but you can feel Javier is fuming underneath the surface. He leaves Inés’ side to throw the snotty paper towel out, his shoulders still tense.

“Lucas, can you take your sister into the bathroom and brush your teeth?” You say as neutrally as you can muster, faking a smile down at him as he looks up at you, “I’ll be right there.”

“What about breakfast?” He asks.

“I’ll make you a sandwich for the bus ride. Whatever you want, but we’re already late,” you tell him, and it seems to work as he takes Inés’ hand in his own and leads her out of the room.

When Javier and you are alone again, an uncomfortable silence settles between the two of you. Javier stands against the counter, palms flat on its surface and you can hear the sound of the clock in the background, ticking by as the silence stretches. 

You are just about to apologize when Javier turns around. His eyes are wild with fury, not at all as submissive as just moments earlier when you had been the angry one. He points at you, mustache twitching with disgust that you are sure must be directed at himself too, because he says, “Never in front of the kids. I don’t care how angry you are. We don’t do that.”

You can feel your bottom lip tremble. 

Javier leaves the kitchen instead of comforting you. 

You force a smile, trying your hardest to sound cheerful while tears spill down your cheeks, “Lucas, what do you want on your sandwich?” 

*

The rest of the day goes by without any resolve, and it feels like there’s a brick lying heavy on your chest and making you on the verge of tears all day. Despite this, you manage to get everything on today’s list done before dinner and yes, you buy the ingredients for the stupid chocolate cake, making an effort to ‘casually’ leave the recipe on the counter for Javier to see. It results in him emptying and refilling the dishwasher without a word. 

During your bedtime routine, Lucas looks worried. He tugs at your hand when you are just about to leave and you can see the cogs turn in his head as he strings together a sentence, “Mom… It’s okay if you and Dad were angry at each other. I just don’t like it when you cry and… and I want you to say sorry. That’s what you make me do when I get angry at you or Dad. Or Inés.”

Your heart hurts from the love that’s barely able to be contained inside of it. With every single muscle in your body being strained, you manage to bend down to hug his head close to your chest, “Mijo.”

“No, don’t be sad,” he says quickly, hugging you back. 

“I’m not, baby. These are good tears because I love you so much,” you kiss his head, “I’m so proud of being your mom, baby. You know this, right?”

Lucas pulls back and you quickly wipe your tears away. He studies your face for a second, “Y-yes, I love you too, Mom, but you need to say sorry to Dad.”

You nod, struggle a little as you try to get up and say your final goodnight. On the way out, you desperately brush more tears out of your face because looking at the photos in the hallway makes them well up in your eyes once more. 

Javier is tying the strings of his pajama pants as you enter your shared bedroom. He doesn’t acknowledge you when you strip yourself naked except for your underwear, and not even when you pull a tank top over your head that’s barely covering your pregnant belly anymore. You’re unsure of what to say to get a reaction from him. The silence screams. 

“I’m sorry,” you eventually settle for. 

Javier turns to you then. His eyes rest on you for a moment before he speaks, “I’m sorry too. I get it… wanting time to yourself. I just didn’t know that was what you needed.”

He is hugging you soon after, strong arms around your exhausted frame. Your round stomach bumps against his flat one, and he lets go with one arm in favor of resting a hand where Sebastian usually kicks during the evening hours. It’s thankfully quiet right now, as if he senses that you need it.

“I wish you could just see how much invisible work I put into this house,” you say softly into his shoulder, “I feel so underappreciated and overwhelmed sometimes.”

“And I wish you would tell me how you’re feeling instead of treating me like a damn mind reader,” he sighs deeply, and you respond by getting defensive again. You’re just about to pull away with an annoyed groan. 

“No, no, c’mere,” he tugs you back into his arms and you let him because you’re feeling generous. His hands cradle your face, “I don’t wanna fight. Please. I hate fighting with you. I’m sorry.” 

“You make me so furious,” you whine as he bumps your nose with his own, feeling tears prickle at the corner of your eyes and one sliding down to drip from your chin. Javier tuts, catches it with his thumb.

“I’m sorry, baby,” his mouth curls downward as he says it, puppy dog eyes on their highest setting, “I know how much you do. I do. I’m just— you know how I am. Don’t cry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Javier embraces you once more as you blink tears away, dragging in a deep breath. The air in the bedroom smells like him, comforting and safe, and it makes it hard to keep concentrating on your fight and easier to fall into him. 

“I love you,” you mumble into his shoulder, and holy fuck, you do - every single day, hour, minute and second. He is your best friend, your husband, the face of your children, and most importantly, you know that he does his best for you.

It seems that those three words are exactly what he wants to hear because you feel his hands curl around the hem of your tank top. You don’t protest, relishing in the gentle touch of his fingertips against your back as he pulls the piece of clothing up and over your head. 

Your shoulders come down to relax from having been tensed up. You haven’t even noticed how much energy you have been using on straining your muscles, but now that you are calming again, you can feel how upset you’ve actually been throughout the day. 

“I love you too,” he promises. Your heart drums in your chest. The way he says it makes arousal burn below your belly button, a gentle tingling, and swirling sensation pleasantly taking over your whole pelvic floor. 

You look down between the two of you to see that Javier is already half-hard in his pajama pants, words seemingly having had the very same effect on him too. You start untying the strings of his pants slowly until you can tug them down over his hips, and he mirrors you to remove your underwear. 

Both of your bottoms pool around your feet, and when you have both stepped out of them, Javier pulls you close by your elbows. He catches your mouth in a desperate kiss, and you melt into him in a way that an apology could never make him feel. 

He pushes you back towards the bed whilst never breaking the searing kiss. Your hair is a mess in his hands, heartbeat speeding up as everything moves so fast from then on out; he helps you down onto the bed like the gentleman he is, manhandles you onto your side like the man you were swept off your feet by years ago and finally presses his front up against your back.  

“I want you,” you say in unison, and it makes you giggle at how in sync you are with each other despite having spent the day fighting over something already long forgotten. Especially when his arm scoops underneath you to cage you against his chest, hand tightening around your shoulder to hold you in place. 

Javier leans over you slightly to kiss the giggles away, bends your knees a little with his free hand so he can let it wander over you. He touches you up along your thigh as you place a pillow under your pregnant belly, takes his time holding you tightly, “Get hotter and hotter every day, mi amor.”

You press your ass back into his crotch, cunt throbbing with impatience as you hear the tiny groan that he lets out. He is so hard against the roundness of your behind, cocktip leaking steadily against your warm skin when he grinds right back into you. 

“Put it in,” you plead softly. Your hands come up to grip his forearm that is secured just above your tits, “Javi, please. I need it so bad.”

He is silent behind you as he works. The anticipation is unbearable when it is mixed with the unnerving need to have an outlet for all the intense emotions that you have just been through, your pussy quivering in desperation to be deliciously stretched out to transform your feelings into something physical. 

Suddenly, you feel the thick head of his cock between your thighs and you ready yourself for intrusion. Luckily, he doesn’t make you wait, guides himself into you in a slow motion until he is fully sheathed inside you. 

“Fuck,” you whine as quietly as you can, nails digging his arm from how hard you are gripping it.

“I know, ahh fuck, shhh,” he soothes but the way his voice sounds makes you believe that he is just as close to losing his mind, “Be quiet, baby. Just let me make you feel fucking amazing. Need a pillow between your knees too?”

You nod, and he is right there with his own pillow to help you get even more comfortable in bed with him. God, why were you even fighting? Something about cake? Either way, it seems beyond ridiculous. 

His nose is in your neck, his hand travels up to cup your breast and then he moves his body for a very first thrust inside of you. It makes your eyes nearly roll back into your skull when he keeps the pace lazy and deep, barely pulling out with each roll of his hips. 

“You feel so good,” he praises whilst mouthing along the most sensitive spot on your neck, “Makes me never wanna leave. Wanna live here.”

“Inside me?” You chuckle breathlessly. 

“Forever,” he gives you a slightly harder thrust, the first where the noise of his skin slapping against yours resonates through the bedroom. You moan in surprise, and he hushes you once more, “Don’t let them wake up and think momma is in pain.”

“Definitely not in pain.”

Javier lets out the quietest laugh. It’s almost unfair how good he is at keeping it down compared to you, but you don’t think you’ll mind having his big palm cover your mouth if you end up causing trouble. It almost happens when he pinches an overly sensitive nipple, making it harden immediately under his touch. 

“Help me spread my legs a little more,” you beg at a low decibel. 

The hand on your tit gropes obscenely and shakes for a moment before it slips down and caresses your belly on the way. Still lying on your side, he smacks the fleshiest part of where your ass and thigh meet before he cups the back of your knee so he can lift.

The move gives you the access you need to rub your cunt, two fingers going in taut little circles around the swollen nub. You rock with him too, and it goes on until you come with your back arched, releasing a short and hot breath that you didn’t notice you had been holding until it turns into a loud and accidental moan. 

“That’s my girl,” he moans too as you clench rhythmically and choke his dick when you release the built-up tension. When your orgasm reaches its peak, Javier’s hand on your shoulder moves to cover your mouth at the fear of you making enough noise to have the door burst open with unwelcome visitors, “I know it’s hard, mi vida, but - shit - but be quiet.”

You take the opportunity to let out a drawn-out and helpless cry into his hand as the sweet pleasure goes on for a few moments more. Then you slump, and he gently moves your leg down again to put less strain on your body. 

“My God,” he talks into your ear, thrusts never slowing down and you swear that you can feel his cock jump with every weak noise you make, “I love you so much. Love your little cunt too, she takes me so well.”

Javier’s hand comes down to grip the extra pounds on your hips. He tugs at the flesh almost painfully, but your exhaustion and dopamine overload are making you too delirious to notice that it’s to the point of bruising. He holds tight and uses the grasp that he has on you to pull you down onto his cock over and over. 

It takes no time to make a second orgasm stir in the pits of your stomach. Your moans change once more as your body starts responding to him fucking you so hard. 

“You think you can come again?” He rasps into your ear, and when the head of his cock slides teasingly over your favorite little spot inside of yourself, you nod frantically and it feels like you are about to cry actual tears. Fuck yes, you can come as many times as he wants. 

“Mhm, won’t take long,” you whimper and use all your willpower to lift your leg over your husband’s thigh until you are spread widely. Your belly is still comfortably supported in the new position, but now that your front is stretched taut and fully exposed like a well-trained and submissive animal, it enhances the feeling of Javier gliding over your g-spot repeatedly.

Javier removes the arm that he has caged you in with, but whereas it gives you a moment to heave a breath of air into the very bottom of your lungs, he quickly takes it away from you as he reaches up with his other hand to grab your throat. He doesn’t squeeze like he normally would when you are not pregnant, but the anticipation of him doing it makes your head swim. 

And then he is absolutely brutal in his thrusts, and before you know it, you are coming with your clit untouched and a strangled sob. The convulsions are so intense that your thighs shake, your toes curl and your eyes screw shut. 

You reach up to put your hand on the back of Javier’s head, holding on tightly as he pounds into you from behind throughout your orgasm. The way he pants tells you that he is close, and when you yank the tiny curls at the nape of his neck, he starts to chase his release. 

“Javi,” you whisper loudly as he slams into your sensitive cunt, “Give it to me. Pleasepleaseplease. Need you to fill me up.”

“Fu— oh shit,” Javier swears in a low, rough growl as he snaps his hips a few last times before stilling inside of you. He feels impossibly big inside your cunt as he pumps you full of his come, cockhead resting at your cervix and coating you in warmth. 

“Jesus, we’re terrible at being quiet,” you whisper as he pants. You let your leg come down onto the other once again, a giggle suddenly building up in your chest. He starts laughing whilst still inside of you, hugging you tightly into his chest and nuzzling his nose into your cheek.

“They sleep through it, don’t gotta worry about it much anymore, I think,” he notes without care, kissing your cheek repeatedly despite still not having calmed his breath. You smile widely as you stare at the ceiling, overtaken by the love you feel for him every time he gets you to post-orgasmic bliss. 

“We need a date night soon though, Jesus. Perhaps Pop could take the kids home with him tomorrow after dinner and I could… do this again,” he smacks your ass playfully, then strokes your hip in soothing circles, and you almost purr like a cat at the gentle move, “Without a mute button on my pretty wife’s mouth, of course.”

“I’d like that,” you say with a soft and sweet sigh, acknowledging his attempt to make things from earlier up to you, “Been a while since you’ve made me scream. Wanna take our time.” 

Javier reaches down between you to pull out before he is completely soft. You hiss at being left empty when you are so spent, but Javier quickly distracts you with another string of kisses to your cheek and the corner of your mouth. He adds to the fantasy, “And then I’ll draw you a bath and you can spend as much time alone as you want. Don’t gotta be no one to anyone.” 

He moves on the bed as far as his arm that’s trapped beneath you allows him, going for the packet of wet wipes you keep on the nightstand. He had suggested them when it had become too hard during your third trimester for you to get out of bed after sex. He hands you a few and you hold them over your mound, enjoying the coolness of them.

“You know the way to my heart,” you say, wiggling a little and feeling his come seep out. It makes your nose crinkle.

“Well, I did convince you to marry me,” he replies. 

“Worst decision I’ve ever made,” you tease. Javier wraps his other arm around you, hand splayed on your belly. 

The position you are in is uncomfortable; Javier’s arm underneath you has got to be asleep by now and you feel damp with sweat due to him being like a furnace against your back.

Still, you both drift off slowly into the soundest sleep. You don’t wake up until two unexpected visitors barge in at the most ungodly hours of the morning, causing you to scramble for the blanket to cover your bodies up and hide the come-stained wet wipes in the nightstand drawer.

.

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If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[bethanythebogwitch]

Wet Beast Wednesday: tardigrades

Last week on Wet Beast Wednesday I covered the largest animals to ever exist on our planet. This week I'm going to pull a full 180 and cover the smallest animals yet on this series. Meet the tardigrade, the internet's favorite micro-animal the is said to be basically immortal. How true is that? Let's see.

(Image: an electron microscope image of a tardigrade. It looks a lot like a potato with eight stubby legs tipped with long claws. At the front is a small, circular mouth. It has no other discernable features. In the background are bits of plant matter that look like seaweed at this scale. End ID)

The tardigrades are 1,300 known species (and probably a lot of unknown ones too) in the phylum Tardigrada. They are also part of the superphylum Ecdysozoa, which are animals that grow by molting their outer cuticles or exoskeletons. In particular, the tardigrades are believed to be a sister group of the arthropods, the group that contains crustaceans, insects, isopods, and a lot of other things. Tardigrades are truly tiny, the largest species reaching a whopping 1.5 millimeters in length, though most species reach no more than 0.5 mm. They have round, segmented bodies with four pairs of legs that end in either claws or suction discs. The body segments consist of a head, three body segments with a pair of legs each, and a caudal segment with the final pair of legs. The first three legs are used for movement while the final pair points backwards and is used for grabbing onto substrate. All of the body segments except for the final one correspond to segments found in the head section of insects. Tardigrades are missing many hox genes, genes that direct the body plan during development. Their ancestors may have had a body plan more similar to insects, but the loss of the hox genes has compressed them into walking heads with a bit of butt. The mouth is tubular and sucks in food. In the mouth are stylets, needle-like structures used to pierce food objects. Once food is drawn into the mouth, a structure called the buccopharyngeal apparatus activates. This is a combination of spines and muscle that acts like an inner jaw that pulls food into the digestive tract. The buccopharyngeal apparatus is distinct enough to be used as a major identifying feature between species. Tardigrades are translucent and many images you've seen of them have false color to show the details or are 3D models based on scanning electron microscope imagery of them. Tardigrades molt their exoskeletons multiple times (up to 12) during their lifecycle. Some species are unable to poop normally and instead all their waste is discarded during the molt. It was formerly believed that tardigrades could exchange genes with each other without mating, a process called horizontal gene transfer that is seen in bacteria, archaea, and other micro-organisms. It has since been discovered that while still capable of horizontal gene transfer, it is quite a bit rarer in tardigrades than we thought.

(Image: an electron microscope image of a tardigrade standing on a bit of plant matter. This one has a closed mouth with a ring of triangular tooth-like structures. It also has two simple eyes that look like black dots. End ID)

The name "tardigrade" means "slow walker", which is fitting as, despite their eight legs, tardigrades have a slow and awkward gait. This is the result of their legs being unjointed, only able to pivot at their connection to the body. Their gait has been compared to that of bears, hence why they are often called water bears and their discoverer, Johann August Ephraim Goeze, called them "kleiner wasserbär", meaning "little water bear". Tardigrades are found worldwide and have inhabited virtually every habitat, from the tops of mountains to the deep sea, from hot springs to the antarctic, from freshwater to saltwater. The one thing they have in common is a need to stay wet. Tardigrades can survive out of water as long as they can stay moist and are often found in mosses, hence another common name: moss piglets. The majority either eat plants or bacteria, but some will feed on smaller tardigrades or other micro-animals. Their famous survivability makes it easy for tardigrades or their eggs to be carried to new habitats by larger animals or other phenomena. Tardigrades are one of the first micro-animals to colonize a new habitat and they are a pioneer species, the first species to colonize a new environment and whose presence makes that environment fore suitable for other species to follow. Tardigrades are a major food source to other micro-animals and larger organisms. Most species have distinct males and females, though a few reproduce through parthenogenesis. In most cases, molting female will lay her eggs in her shed cuticle and males will them fertilize them. Other species have a form of internal reproduction. Males and females will court each other before mating and females will usually allow multiple males to fertilize her eggs. Female tardigrades are typically larger and more abundant than males. Eggs can take up to 14 days (species dependent) before hatching. All tardigrades of the same species have the exact same number of cells as each other. They are also born with the same number of cells they will have as an adult. Their growth is driven by enlargement of the existing cells rather than cellular reproduction making new cells. The lifespan ranges between a few months to a few years, depending on species.

(Image: a color photo of a tardigrade. It is a pale, translucent white, making it hard to make out details. Its body is curved, with the front end pointing at the camera. It has two simple eyes. End ID)

(Image: an electron microscope image of a tardigrade egg. It is round but covered in small pores and conical structures. End ID)

The most famous feature of tardigrades is their legendary durability. It is commonly said that tardigrades can survive just about anything (except for the things that are actually trying to kill them. They are prey to a lot of species after all). Among the things they can survive is extreme heat, extreme cold, dehydration, extremely high and low pressure, exposure to ionizing radiation (that's the scary kind), low oxygen environments, environmental toxins, heavy impacts, and the vacuum of fucking space. While the can survive in extreme conditions, tardigrades are not considered extremophiles. True extremophiles thrive in extreme environments and are negatively impacted by leaving them. Tardigrades can survive in extreme environments, but are negatively impacted and can't survive as well there as they can in less extreme places. The main trait that has allowed tardigrades to survive all five mass extinctions in history is cryptobiosis. Cryptobiosis is the rare ability for an animal to enter a state of dormancy where their metabolic processes come to an almost complete stop. While in cryptobiosis, metabolic activity drops to 0.01% normal and water content drops to 1% normal. In this state, the tardigrade is called a tun. Tardigrades usually enter cryptobiosis in response to arid conditions. One experiment showed that a species of tardigrade could last for at least 30 years in this state and return to normal lifestyle functions when exposed to water. Tardigrades will also enter cryptobiosis in response to low oxygen, toxic chemical exposure, increased or decreased temperature, and excessive salt content in the water. Tardigrades also show extreme resistance to both high and low pressure. They can live in 0 atmospheres of pressure and some species can survive up to 6,000 atmospheres, more than double the pressure at the bottom of the Marianas trench. More interesting is their ability to survive dangerous radiation. They can survive 1,000 times the dose of gamma radiation that humans can. Early tests focused on tardigrades in cryptobiosis and concluded that the extremely low water content of a cryptobiotic tardigrade doesn't leave much opportunity for the radiation to react with the animal. However it was later found that active and fully hydrated tardigrades are still considerably resistant to radiation. Studies into this resistance indicate that tardigrades can very efficiently repair damaged DNA and have unique proteins called Dsup that provides additional protection. Dsup introduced to human cells has provided additional protection against x-rays.

(Image: an electron microscope image of a tun - a tardigrade in cryptobiosis. It is smaller and very wrinkly, with the legs and mouth retracted into the body. End ID)

Tardigrades were the first animals to be exposed to the vacuum of space. They were exposed for 10 days, some in a state of cryptobiosis at the time of exposure and some still active. It was found that they were able to survive the vacuum when shielded from the sun's ultraviolet radiation, with those already in cryptobiosis doing better. Upon being rehydrated, many were able to resume normal life functions and successfully reproduce, though others died after being rehydrated. Those that were exposed to UV radiation fared much worse, with only a few hydrated individuals surviving. The individuals in cryptobiosis had a lower survival rate when exposed to UV than those not exposed to UV and were less successful at reproducing afterwards. Studies of tardigrade's space survival abilities and resistance to radiation could go a long way in helping human space travel. One of the largest dangers of space travel is that space is full of nasty radiation from the sun that Earth's magnetic field protects us from. Some scientists speculate about the possibility of accidentally seeding other planets or moons with tardigrades or other space-resistant organisms. This is a problem because introducing Earth life to other world has the potential to damage any native ecosystems and if we find life in space in the future we don't want to have to figure out if it's something we accidentally put there. While tardigrades could likely survive on other planets, they would eventually die without a food source. Some sources reported that tardigrades may have colonized the moon after an experiment with them crashed. Unfortunately, the moon is not crawling with tardigrades now. It's way too dry for them to exit cryptobiosis even if they survived the crash, which they probably didn't.

(Image: art of a tardigrade floating in the vacuum of space. End ID. Source: University of California - Santa Barbara)

[celaenaeiln]

Ok so I guess this is a weird question, but what do you think about wally and dick being in a relationship? would it be healthy? would it last long? all those types of questions. I've been getting into dc recently, and I've been starting to realize alot of people ship those two, admittedly I can see why, I'm starting to like them too. Pretty sure I saw someone call them every Dick Grayson/Wally West stan "required phase", it would be a life if I said I didn't snort at that. But I've been curious if they would even work out, with their plans for their lives being so different, clashing with each other

Absolutely!

In fact I think that if Dick and Wally ever got into a canonical relationship, they would never ever break up which would be a massive problem for DC because DC needs their IT boy Dick Grayson to be shipped with as many people as possible. lol.

No but really the reason they're so great together is because Wally really, really cares about Dick's mental health. He's canonically made it his mission to make sure Dick is happy and safe and he loves his best friend so much. Dick has grown up with wally since they were tiny kids and he knows every detail of Wally's life and loves him. The Flash Plus comic is just the two of them being best buddies.

So considering the amount of love and care Wally and Dick have for each other. In Titans (2016) Wally literally writes a love letter to Dick. (they call it a friendship letter but c'mon who're they tryna fool.)

Titans (2016) Issue #15

Do you know what Wally does? He literally turns back time in order to prevent Dick from dying. Wally is retiring because he has a heart condition. He can't run. He can't be the flash anymore.

But.

Titans (2016) Issue #15

For Dick he killed himself.

I genuinely don't think it's possible for Dick to have a healthier relationship with anyone than he does with Wally. They're like cotton candy, white snow, salsa mix love. The purest, softest, fluffiest romance with a whirlpool of fun and excitement.

Something Wally mourns a lot in the comics is his loss of contact with Dick.

The Flash (1987) Issue #210

The reason they don't talk as much is because Wally is busy with Linda and Dick can't just third wheel a marriage. I mean he sort of already does but anymore than now and he would be living with them. Permanently.

I think the only issue they would have is the different cities. Neither of them would be willing to move because Wally loves Central City and Dick loves Bludhaven. However they would still be able to maintain a long distance relationship easily because even as friends they go on annual vacations, just the two of them, simply to hang out with each other. Also the occasional drop ins.

As soon as Wally heard Dick and Barbara broke up-

Nightwing (1996) Issue #88

The only time Dick and Wally have fought is when Dick is refusing self-care and Wally is so mad at him for neglecting his mental health. But even then it's more of a - fine. I'm leaving you alone for now until you get your stuff together. I know you can do it. - type thing. They would definitely work out despite the separate cities thing because Wally has unconditional trust and love for Dick and Dick loves Wally .just as much.

Besides, living in two cities is no problem for a speedster

Nightwing (2016) Issue #15

They're the classic childhood friends to lovers trope without all the backstabbing and betrayal stuff you see in movies. It doesn't matter if people even ship them or not at this point because if you asked them they would probably just marry each other and call it "bromance."

[anim-ttrpgs]

Eureka seems like it could be a cool game to drop players into with some hooks and let them do what they want. Will there be a pre-made setting or something along those lines in Eureka when it's complete?

Sorta but it’ll work a little differently from what you might be used to if you’re used to epic fantasy campaign games like D&D5e and Pathfinder.

Eureka won’t exactly have big setting books the same way that something like D&D does, it just has the one setting as described in the rulebook itself, which is primarily 21st century but can span all the way back to the late 1800s. I can dig up a post about that to link here

As for hooks, we recommend you use adventure modules. Eureka supports a LOT of things, it’s a “toolbox game,” which means that if there’s a situation that can come up during the adventure, the rulebook probably has some advice for what to roll (That’s also why it’s such a long rulebook.) - however, all of these situational considerations are in service to the one main thing: Investigation. Eureka does mystery Investigation really well, which means it does it pretty differently compared to most other games, and the way it does it means that the GM will run into trouble if they try to make everything up on the fly based on whatever random hook the PCs decide to follow up on. They’re going to investigate and find evidence, and if the GM isn’t prepared with cohesive information to give them based on that evidence, then it won’t all come together in the end.

This is not to say that Eureka adventures need to be pre-plotted or railroaded, far from it. What it means is that that hook has to have a whole line attached to it.

A good “campaign” for Eureka will probably last 2-10 sessions at most, and have one or multiple hooks, all of which are related to the same event.

That event will be something the GM has written out in detail and set in stone, which has already happened (or in more advanced cases, is actively happening). Lady Violet killed Colonel Mustard in the study with the candle stick. With that set in stone, you can start sprinkling clues around that they can find that either point to Lady Violet, or help rule out other suspects. You gotta stick with that no matter what crackpot theories about aliens or ex wives the players or PCs might come up with, because if you change it on a whim based on what the players want to be the truth, then previous clues will quickly stop making sense.

To this end, we recommend using prewritten adventure modules, because we know from experience that it’s a lot of work for a GM to make up an event to be investigated that has enough detail for every eventuality. (That’s why they pay people to write adventure modules after all, it’s work, even if it can be fun work.)

Our team plans to support Eureka for as long as is feasibly possible with continual releases of new adventure modules, and we already have four in the works to release with the full game. The beta version of one of them (Horror Harry’s Haunted House) comes free with the name-your-price beta of Eureka on itchio, and two more (The Eye of Neptune and FORIVA: The Angel Game) are available on our patreon.

You can also listen to an Actual Play playthrough of FORIVA: The Angel Game on @tinytablerpg's podcast!

And finally, Eureka is compatible with most other already-existing adventure modules about mystery Investigation, which we have a post about right here

[zeondraws]

I poked a few questions at Secret Mode on their discord server and got an answer back today. Right after I came home and I can't stress how happy I got reading it.

I'll try to show my the questions and the answers together, so that people on tumblr have enough context what I asked about. Figured you guys might enjoy.

"Does Muir play the Bagpipe?" - Personally (others might disagree), I could definitely see Muir play the bagpipe (especially if he can annoy Innes with it!) but what would most likely happen is that he would bring something small that is allowed in his baggage like an harmonica.

"Something I noticed is that McLeary's name seems to be an innuendo to MacReady from The Thing, which made me wonder: Were names chosen at random or did they serve a specific purpose? Another person I know noticed Muir means "sea" while Innes means "island"." - I think the short answer is yes names have meaning and none of them were picked at random! But our philosophy is to let people draw their own conclusion as we don't want to make things "official" by giving our reasons! (we love to read/see people create their own theories so feel free to share them!)

"One small thing me and other people wondered, ingame we found a schedule for the shifts. A bunch of the crewmates seem to be listed on it, like "Derek M."? and "Joey I." Where we wondered if those were the first names of Muir and Innes?" - To my knowledge Muir and Innes have always existed in the game and can be found listed on that schedule I think although it might be hidden. Derek and Joey might be in the background without lines. - Innes' first name is Terry and Muir's name is Ewan.

"Another mini question I had was, is it possible to know who lived in the room 121? I could never find any indications thus far." - 121 was meant to be Innes and Muir's room...Innes is the one who likes reading. Seeing how much fans love them I wish we'd set dressed it more with clues about them.

"And my last goofy question is, when Muir basically yeets Innes across the deck, he is still animated when he lands inbetween the containers (I'm using a mod to look around the level a bit more). Did that have a specific reason? Did Muir just threw him across the deck or did he want to carry him?" - For Innes being animated for a bit longer, the simple answer is that our lead animator always plan to show a tiny bit more than what is shown because you never know if an angle might change...

With this I am finally able to somewhat complete my picture of the crewmate rooms. Thank you so much! I am learning so much about this game and how the developers approach the lore. I've never really been in such a community before so this is all very new for me. But a very positive experience (Since I feel extremely awkward asking questions, where I never know if I sound pushy/annoying, so I am often extremely nervous).

But this also means I have another detail to add for my video- Ooohhhh!

[lunalockley]

Night Desires

Dark!Steven Grant x Fem!Reader

Warnings: I mean, dark sort of creepy Steven Grant wishing to do things he shouldn't. Nonconsensual desires? Maybe.

Words: 900+

Notes: This is very short and not as dark as it could, I'm just testing the waters! Let me know what you thinkkk and thanks for always reblogging and commenting nice things <3 love you all

Masterlist

gif credit

It began before I could even see your face, it began before I even knew your name. It began with your voice.

You didn't realize such thin walls this building has, did you? Of course, you didn’t darling. Is that why you started to rub your pretty little clit in the middle of the night on your first day in? You thought your good new neighbor couldn’t hear you? God, Love, the sounds you made. I could hear everything. I swear I’ve never been so hard in my life before, never so fast. I tried not to react to it, at first. I really tried. I’m a good guy after all. I’m a gentleman. But who could have resisted you?

I used to wonder how would you react if I told you. When you are all sweet and nice to me in the corridor, what would you do if I say how hard you made me come with your moans and that gasping breathing of yours? Would you blush if I say how I was stroking my cock with one hand and covering my mouth with the other so you couldn’t hear how you wrecked you had me? Would your heart pick up in your chest if I say how badly I want it to be my hands the ones that had you whining so pretty? Would that make you wet? I bet it would. You’re not a good girl, not all the time at least. I know that much.

But you can’t blame me, can you? After that first night, I decided I would never think about it again. I was ashamed. I was even planning on moving my bed from the wall to the farthest possible place in the flat. Can you imagine? I was planning on keeping myself away from you. What an idiot. I didn’t last much though. We bumped into each other in the elevator a few days later and I was a goner.

You had to be so bloody gorgeous, didn’t you? You were all smiles and blushed cheeks. Calling my name in that way you did. Steven, you said. How your lips wrapped the sound, how it ended somewhere low in your throat it drove me insane right there. Steven, it never sounded so glorious before. I wonder how it might sound all breathy and delirious in the darkness of your room, I wonder what it would do to me then. I need to find out.

It used to be okay Love, this little secret between the night, the walls, and I. My favorite time of the day. Delighted in you, holding my breath, measuring my movements to don’t lose any detail I could catch but then—then that disgusting vibrating sound ruining everything. Overcoming your sighs, your pretty little whines. Everything.

How dare you do that to me.

Using some lifeless cold machine when I’m right here alive and warm and eager to do anything you could ask me to. It’s cruel. Making me jealous of some stupid battery thing when I could give you everything. Anything you needed for as long as you wanted it. Letting you catch your breath just to start it all over again.

I hate it. Night after night I hate it more and more. That detestable repetitive sound. It makes me mad. I want to take it off your hands, rip it apart and show you—

Once I read that no man with power should be trusted because he will always use it for his own benefit. I used to think that wasn’t true. I had faith in people, I had faith in me. But now I know—If I just had a tiny little amount of power over you. If I had you all helpless at my mercy, nowhere else to go. God, the things I would do.

Nothing to hurt you, of course. I could never hurt you. Not if you don’t want me to, but I bet you would.

I would just take you the way I’ve wanted all these months. Pump my cock in and out of that wet pussy just like you do with that toy. But, Love, I would be so, so much better. I would know how you need it just by looking at you. Giving it to you faster, slower, harder. And you just would need the lay back and take it for me.

At first, I would have you on your knees. I want to hold you against a wall and fuck your pretty face until your throat is burning, until you’re choking on me and tears run down your cheeks. But I want it slow and tender too. I want you to take just as much as you want to, your hand stroking the rest. I want you to lick me, to savor me. I want to feel your lips and your tongue. And I want to kiss you afterward.

And I want to taste you. I want to drag my tongue just like I’ve been dreaming for so long and I want to feel you tremble and to hear you beg and I want you to get mad and push me against you, I want to lose my breath and have you in my mouth and my lungs and my hands.

And I want to know how those pretty little sounds feel right in my ear. The warmth of your ragged breathing into my neck. Your soft hands holding into me. Your wet cunt clenching hard around me, and my name on your lips over and over again. 

I need everything and more.

I fantasize about it. All the damn bloody time. About just breaking in and giving you what so desperately need. 

Anything you need.

I used to want but I’m getting tired of it. Enough is enough, Love. I’ll start doing now.

[ducktracy]

the first clip for "the day the earth blew up" was posted on twitter. can you spare us your thoughts?

@aadrawings: So uh how about that new Looney movie clip?

I MOST CERTAINLY CAN SPARE MY THOUGHTS! TWIST MY ARM! first, i'll link it here in case anyone hasn't seen it:

FIRST (and most obvious) THING'S FIRST: I'M SOOOOOOOOO EXCITED UUUUUUUUUUUUUGHHH!!! the film JUST started premiering in Annecy as we speak and my heart is literally pounding MY FINGERS LITERALLY SHAKING. so i apologize if this turns into a discombobulated mess i'm so so so excited and trying to keep an eagle eye out for any and all details. BUT ANYHOO

IT LOOKS GREAT!!! this is a fully rendered clip of the roughs that were uploaded back in September of 2022, so i'm already pretty familiar with this since i gushed over it to hell and back then, too. i had a few teeny tiny neurotic nitpicks that i would not take too seriously--honestly me nitpicking anything modern LT is a good sign because it means i'm ENGAGED and actively thinking and engaging with the material. there are a lot of modern LT adaptations i cannot say the same for. so it's all out of a labor of love and i also realize that most of these nitpicks are very.. you guys know my level of fanaticism. don't take it too seriously. my standards for this series AND THESE TWO KNUCKLEHEADS IN PARTICULAR who are my favorite characters of all time are so high that even the classics don't meet those expectations half the time. we all know i'm insane. BUT ENOUGH BLUFFING

my biggest critique is that it's going to take me quite a bit to get used to Eric Bauza's Porky. i LOVE Bauza, he is such a sweet guy (he sang me happy birthday as Daffy Duck and i almost exploded) and so talented and it's been really great seeing him rise up the ranks. i used to only know him as "the guy who voiced Stimpy in APC" and so i'm VERY glad to see he's gone on to greener pastures LOL.

but, with that said, the first time i saw these roughs i actually thought Porky's lines were scratch audio. there isn't enough stuttering--it's important for me to note that people give Porky's stutter WAY too much prevalence, in terms of how he sounds and just characterization as a whole. a stutter is not a personality. BUT, in the clips above, he doesn't really sound like Porky unless he's stuttering. it moreso sounds like Daffy talking to himself. Mel Blanc had Porky speak (and even sing!) in full sentences all the time, but it's never noticeable unless pointed out because Porky still sounded like Porky and Blanc knew how to make his personality come out in his voice beyond the vocal fluff of a stutter.

part of it is because i'm so used to Bob Bergen. and, even THEN, if i watch too much LTC or Duck Dodgers in one sitting, i need to "recalibrate" with the originals and hear Blanc. Bergen's Porky is much different than Mel's, more formal, the stutter more concrete in its formula (fun fact: Blanc's Porky has a southern twang in his voice if you listen for it depending on who's voice directing and i love it so much. biggest giveaway is how his "i"'s will often sound like an "ah" instead, not thinking of the stutter. I WARNED YOU we are getting into super pedantic territory here), but, much like how Joe Alaskey's Daffy is a much different interpretation than Blanc's Daffy, he was able to really make it his own. i think Bauza's Porky is still in a little bit of a limbo in finding its identity with that regard. but, also, keep in mind we've only heard him in this clip and Space Jam 2 and i have no plans of revisiting SJ2 to make a point here. sorry

THAT'S MY BIGGEST CRITIQUE i'd say! others are small, such as the design of the landlady is fun but reads like something out of the 2020 Animaniacs than anything based in the LT design philosophy, and you could argue that the fluidity is more Richard Williams-esque in its visual fluffiness and perhaps even excessiveness than, again, anything relating to LT. but i take less stock in that last one because the animation is STILL GORGEOOOOOOOOOOOOUS WHAT THE HECK!!!! so many fluid arcs and i really love that scene of Daffy talking to the landlady. the subtle twitching on Porky's cheek as a secondary action made me laugh.

other than that... you guys know that I. LOVE. LTC. i have been tracking it before it released, and there are posts on this blog (i think i saw one even dating back to its initial announcement in 2018, though it may have been a 2019 post of the 2018 upload. dunno.) dating back before i was even into LT at ALL. i've been keeping an eagle eye on every single development. the day they premiered i watched the entire batch 3 times in a row. i streamed it for you guys too! some people reading this may have been in that room.

ALL THIS TO SAY, i LOVE LTC SO MUCH and it's been the most excited i've been for anything in a very long time. i also have my fair share of nitpicks, but, as i've expressed above, they all come out of a place of love. some of the Porky and Daffy shorts in the LTCs i would have handled differently if i had my hands on them. Porky and Daffy are two characters who are deeply special to me, everyone knows me as The Porky And Daffy person including my coworkers and bosses, my friends who worked on the show and film have told me many times they're eager for my thoughts. the pig and duck are literally a part of my identity. so my critiques come more out of a place of fanaticism and love for the characters and wanting to do them justice and wanting people to see what i see in them, rather than an actual dig at the product

THAT ALL BEING SAID. there are some pitfalls and little traps the P+D (and a lot of LTC in general) shorts run into that i'm expecting to be in the movie as well. there's a little bit here with the screaming and some lines of dialogue that i probably would have shaved off (like "our roof?"). months ago i started typing up mini reviews of each LTC short that i may compile here someday--my Max subscription was about to run out and i wanted to watch all the LTCs one last time while i could. and then i renewed because i couldn't watch quickly enough and now need to return LOL--and it allowed me to lay out some of the nitpicks i have with the series more clearly, which i am fully expecting to also be in the movie. and that's okay!

ALLLL OF THIS RAMBLING IS TO SAY: I AM SO EXCITED. i've been tracking every single detail of this movie and this SERIES like a hawk since it was announced. i was even asked to work on the film back in 2021, but turned it down because i wasn't secure enough in my abilities and didn't know what job security would look like after i finished on the film. i'm glad i stuck with the decision as i did, because i figured i can draw those two any time i want, and the fact that i got asked meant that there are eyes on my work and i may get asked with other LT related offers (which turned out to be true!). needless to say, turning down the offer was genuinely one of the most excruciating things i've ever done and it seriously sent me into a pretty big funk for the next few days and weeks.

so, with all that said, it is ESPECIALLY important for me to see how this movie is and celebrate it and keep my fanatical obsessive eagle eye out. i'm so glad i get to live in a world where this is a movie that is happening and coming out. i've already got plans to see it with a best friend who i've shoved the agenda of the pig and duck down her throat many times. i am so excited to cheer on all my friends and colleagues who worked on this film. it's the most excited i think i have ever been for anything actively coming out in my life.

[katyswrites]

don't call me 'baby'

PART 3 | SERIES

Pairing: Steve Harrington/fem!reader

Warnings: Sugardaddy!Steve, swearing, alcohol use, smoking, age gap, allusions to sex

Wordcount: 6.1k

A sugar daddy modern AU, a whirlwind summer romance in Italy, and two people from completely different walks of life, somehow finding each other in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. But, what will happen when summer ends?

PART 3 | this path is reckless (and I like it)

Six o’clock finally came torturously slowly, the minutes on the clock passing like molasses. At five minutes-to, the bell above the door rang, and Steve strolled in. He caught your eye to where you stood behind the counter, and nodded. You shot him a small smile, but felt your stomach turn - whether it was excitement or anxiety, you couldn’t quite tell. But, you couldn’t deny that you were happy to see him. You felt stupid, considering that he had explicitly said he wasn’t planning on asking you out - but, what else could it be?

As soon as Steve saw you making your way over, he smiled briefly, before nodding to the chair across from him. He already had ordered two coffees - one for himself, which he was halfway through, and a cappuccino, right at your seat. 

“Hey there,” you said, feigning a casual and friendly air as you sat down. “Oh, um, thanks - you really didn’t need to order me anything.”

“Hey there,” you said, feigning a casual and friendly air as you sat down. “Oh, um, thanks - you really didn’t need to order me anything.”

He shrugged. “I figured you might be tired - I took a wild guess about what you liked, though. Don’t feel like you have to drink it if you don’t want -”

“No, it’s great,” you assured. “I could probably do with a pick-me-up, anyways. Long day.”

“Okay, good,” he said. It was silent again for a moment, both of you just pretending to be incredibly interested in your drinks instead of each other, waiting for the other to say something. You already knew that this wasn’t a date. But, even worse, it didn’t feel like one at all - it felt more like a business meeting, between two strangers. Then again, isn’t that what you were?

You could only stand the anticipation for so long - you were many things, but patient wasn’t one of them. 

“So… what did you want to talk to me about?” you asked. “Is this about last night? Because, i was pretty drunk, so - if you didn’t want me to kiss you, I’m sorry, that was my fault… I might’ve misread things, but if you aren’t interested, that’s fine - you’ve been more than nice, and I didn’t want you to think that I -”

“Why are you living in Italy?” he asked.

Not what you expected. Still, it was fair enough - beyond tourists, you were probably the first American he had encountered here.

“Oh - well… that’s kind of a long story.”

He shrugged again. “I’d love to hear it, if you want to tell me, that is.”

You thought for a moment, placing your mug on the table as you decided exactly which details to disclose to him.

“Well… my home life… let’s just say, it wasn’t great. I grew up in a tiny town in upstate New York, and… I mean, I knew I always wanted to get out of there. So, I applied to colleges as far as possible - mostly big cities, like New York, Boston, Chicago, even out in California. I didn’t plan on leaving the States, necessarily - but I applied to the American University of Rome, just for kicks, since I knew they offered a U.S.-accredited degree. I didn’t think I’d get in, let alone actually go. But, they made a great offer - basically a full ride. And, it got me as far from home as possible. So I left, and never really looked back. And now, I only have one semester left, which is pretty crazy, but… I’m glad I did it.”

It felt nice, to actually get that off of your chest - Robin was one of the only people you really ever talked about this stuff with. There was a lot still left unmentioned, but it still made the man across from you seem less like a stranger, like someone you could maybe trust.

“Was it hard? Moving to a whole other country, I mean?”

He was asking sincerely, but you were still wary as you answered.

“Yes, and no,” you admitted. “There was definitely a culture shock - I had to learn a lot about the city, the people, and a whole new language. But, it really is great here. And, I’m glad I found Robin - someone from home, kind of. But, it’s been… a lot of work.”

He raised an eyebrow. “In what way?”

You sighed, measuring your words carefully. 

“I’ve done pretty well in school, but I didn’t know that Rome was one of the most expensive cities in the world until after I moved here. I mean, I scraped together most of the money I had just to buy my plane ticket. And, campus housing was expensive, so I bounced between hostels and friends’ couches my first couple of years, until I was able to save up a little. That took a bit, too - turns out Italy doesn’t have a set minimum wage, either. Who knew right?”

You chuckled dryly at that last part, and winced inwardly - that was far too much information, and he didn’t need to know any of that. You thought again about the money he had sent, how he casually had a personal driver on hand, the clothes he wore - he probably pitied you, couldn’t even be bothered to consider you as a -

“Is that why you have two jobs?” he inquired. There’s only sincerity behind his question, like he was truly trying to understand. 

You nodded slowly, meeting his eyes. It occurred to you then that this felt like some strange job interview - well, a job interview with a man you drunkenly kissed on the sidewalk the night before. You shivered at the memory.

“How old are you again?” he asked.

“Twenty,” you replied, recalling his age from his I.D. - he had just turned thirty, if your math was right.

“Jesus,” he whispered, mostly to himself. He leaned back in his chair, brow furrowed. You noted how he was fidgeting a bit with his fingers, shifting in his seat - was he nervous? Why?

“Okay, I guess I’ll just get to it,” Steve conceded, leaning forward again. He folded his forearms on the table and leaned it, his gaze focused on yours. He was ramping up to something, but nothing could have prepared you for what.

“What if you didn’t have to worry about money anymore?” he posed, his voice low and steady.

You furrowed your brow, confused. You felt your stomach flip again, you mind racing to a million and one implications.

“I - what?”

He sighed, running one hand through his hair as he gathered himself. 

“I - Jesus, okay, this is harder than I thought. I’ve never really done this before, so just, bear with me, yeah?”

You frowned, but nodded, giving him a moment to continue.

“First of all, don’t apologize for kissing me. I mean, I was really hoping you would,” he admitted.

You felt something flutter in your chest, and fought with everything you had to keep your face neutral.

“You - you were?”

He nodded.

“Yeah - I mean, not that I was expecting it, but - I wanted to. But - earlier, you said something about me not being interested in you… that’s not true.”

You wanted to jump up and down with glee, but you couldn’t help and feel that there was a big but coming.

“- but, I’m not exactly looking for anything right now. Well, anything serious. I just… a relationship can’t happen for me, not right now. And, I don’t know if that’s going to change anytime soon. I’m only in Italy until the end of the summer anyway.”

You felt your heart sink in your chest, like a balloon deflating. There it was - it explained a lot.

“Oh,” you said softly, doing your best to not let the disappointment bleed through. “That’s fine - I get it, really. Thanks for letting me know -”

“Wait, it’s not just that,” he explained. “I - fuck, okay, give me a second here. I was thinking of having an… arrangement, with you.”

You cocked an eyebrow, sitting up a bit straighter in your chair.

“An arrangement?” you echoed.

“Yeah,” he said. “I - I want to keep seeing you. But, with an understanding - that there wouldn’t be personal feelings involved, it’d just be something fun, for you and me. And, maybe you could occasionally be my date to work events, galas, that sort of thing.”

You kept your face as stoic as possible, taking in what he was asking. But before you could formulate a thought, he continued:

“And, in exchange… I could help you out. I can give you a monthly allowance, conver all your major bills, student loans, if you have any… and, if there’s anything you want to buy yourself, like, new shoes or something?”

“What makes you think I want shoes?” you bristled, suddenly becoming defensive as you truly started to comprehend what he was proposing.

“Nothing!” he exclaimed, backtracking. “I’m just saying that… if there’s anything you want, I can take care of it. To thank you, for your… discretion.”

You felt your face heat, the blood rushing into your cheeks and roaring in your ears. Here he was, a man you were only just getting to know, asking if you wanted to be his… his - 

“You wouldn’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, of course,” he added quickly, his own cheeks starting to twinge pink. “I mean, I’d never pressure you into anything - I wouldn’t do this if you didn’t consent, I mean.”

“And if I don’t consent?” you asked, your words coming out as more of a snap than you intended.

“Then I’d leave here, right now, and you’d never have to see me again,” he assured. “And, I’d send you another sum of money to at least cover your rent for the rest of the year, for even insulting you with the offer. But… I do think this could help both of us.”

You bit your lip, grabbing a paper napkin from the table and twisting it in your hand.

“Can it? I just… I feel like you’re not the kind of guy that needs to pay for sex. I mean, what’s in it for you?”

He hesitated for a second, and it occurred to you that he’s nervous, perhaps more than you.

“It’s not just sex,” he admitted. “I mean - it’d be nice, to have someone kind of consistent, and to know she wouldn’t expect anything. That’s the point of the agreement, I guess. But also… you saw who I work with. They’re always on me, about being ‘married to my work,’ all of that. So -”

“You want me to be your arm candy?” you finished bluntly. He turned just a bit more red at that.

“I wouldn’t put it like that, but - yeah, basically. After that stunt at the restaurant… I think they’d respect me a lot more, to be honest.”

“And you think I’m pretty enough for that?” you asked dryly, mostly to yourself as you laughed inwardly at the idea.

“Yeah, I do,” he whispered.

You froze for a moment, caught off-guard by his response - and, you hated how it made something warm bubble inside your chest, especially in the given situation. You just nodded, tearing at the napkin in your hand.

“Can I just ask you one thing?” you posed.

“Sure, anything.”

“Why don’t you want a relationship?”

His eyes widened, like that was the last thing he ever expected. Something unreadable passed his features, and he thought for a moment before replying.

“Honestly? I’m really busy. HNL is working on expanding through Europe - or, in Brenner’s words, dominate. And, I’m trying to work my way up to CEO - I think I have a good shot, once he retires. Having someone… it’d distract me. And, I don’t think it’d be fair to her, either - I can’t fully commit the time, not right now.”

It was an honest answer, at least from what you could tell. Still, what he was proposing… It seemed crazy. Too good to be true. If he had taken you home last night, and just made it clear it was a one-time thing… you would have let it happen. You knew that with near-certainty. If Steve had just become a fun story to tell one day, that would’ve been fine by you. But this… 

“Can I think about it?” you asked. He nodded vigorously.

“Yeah - yeah! Of course. Here -”

He handed you his phone, pulling up the blank contact form on the screen.

“- put your number in here. So you can get in touch, if you make a decision, or for… whatever.”

You took it from him, typing out your full name and phone number with shaky hands. Your palms were sweaty, the weight of what he wanted from you.

When you handed it back to him, he glanced down, and stuck the phone back in his pocket.

“Great - well, um, I’ve kept you long enough after work -”

“Oh, yeah - I should probably get home, anyways. I’m on dinner tonight, for me and Robs.”

He stood when you did, chairs scraping on the floor as you stepped away from the table, leaving two empty coffee mugs and a napkin torn to bits.

“Let me call my car, to drive you home -”

“No,” you said firmly. “I - I want to walk for a bit, actually. To clear my head, if that’s alright.”

He just nodded curtly, and you both just stared at each other for a moment. It was awkward now, like you were now leaving the job interview not knowing if you felt good about getting the job. Do you hug? Should you just leave?

You opted to shake his hand, extending your hand towards his until he took it. It felt strange to do that, but before you could dwell on it, you were mumbling a rushed talk to you soon, and running out the door.

As soon as you were out of sight of the coffee shop, you let out a deep exhale - this could not be your life. But somehow, it was.

As you walked down the cobblestone streets, you became convinced that the whole interaction was in your imagination - perhaps you were still dreaming, and your alarm clock would wake you up at any moment. That was, until, you heard your phone ding:

Maybe: Steve

Hey - this is Steve. Steve Harrington, in case you forgot - I realized you probably also need my number, right? Have a good night.

Jesus, he writes texts like a dad. A grandpa, even. You stared at the message for a moment, reading it a few times - yes, this was real. You took a moment to add the number to your contacts, typing out Steve Harrington slowly. Then, you stuck it in your bag, and continued on your walk, doing everything you could to not check it for the rest of the way.

Your walk home was nearly an hour - reasonably, you should’ve taken Steve’s offer, or at least the bus. But you charged ahead, breathing in the air as dusk started to overtake the day, the sky darkening to the telltale hues of pink and orange. Summer was beginning to show its face, the days stretching just a bit longer, the warmth just a bit more persistent, creeping in as spring met its final days.

It was your favorite time of year - just before the true heat of summer set in, the promise of bright days ahead and winter long-dead in its grave. And thankfully, it meant darkness was only truly settling in when you reached your apartment - you had arrived there on auto-pilot, spending your whole walk home thinking of Steve’s offer.

You were bouncing back and forth, between telling him to fuck himself, and jumping at the opportunity to take everything he had to offer you.

When you walked up to the third floor and jostled the door open with your keys, the apartment was dark - indicating that Robin had hardly left her room all day. But, you needed to talk to her. You needed someone else to tell you that this was insane, outlandish, unbelievable -

When you knocked on her door, you were met with a muffled hmmm, what?

You opened her bedroom door slowly, only to see Robin under her covers, her room still dark. She was only illuminated by the light of her phone’s screen, where she was no doubt doom scrolling for the last few hours, if not all day.

“Hey, you,” you whispered. “How’re you feeling?”

She groaned, sitting up in bed. 

“Only marginally better. But, I think I’ve taken the legal limit of ibuprofen, so I have to wait the rest out.”

You chuckled, shaking your head.

“I would say I feel bad for you, but I’m not sure I do.”

She chucked a pillow in your direction, narrowly missing your head.

“Asshole,” she grumbled.

“Love you too,” you replied, sitting on the edge of her bed.

Robin rubbed her eyes, yawning.

“So, how was work?”

Jesus - how were you supposed to answer that question?

“Oh, uh - good, I guess. Well - okay, if I tell you something, will you promise not to freak out? Because like, I really need your advice here.”

“Uh, yeah, okay - that’s totally not ominous.”

“Well, you know Steve?”

“Our savior, you mean? Yeah. I mean, he did bring us back last night, right? I didn’t make that up?”

“No,” you confirmed. “You didn’t. But, before you found us last night… we kind of made out.”

That got Robin to sit up straight, looking more alive than she had all day.

“Oh? You made out with moneybags??? And didn’t tell me?”

“To be fair, you were incapacitated.”

Robin rolled her eyes playfully, then held up her hands defensively.

“Yeah, okay, whatever - well, did you get his number or something?”

You sighed, gathering yourself as you figured out how to answer that question.

“Well, kind of - not last night. But, he came to visit me at work today… I kind of told him where I worked last night while we were talking.”

Robin’s eyes widened, and she grinned. 

“Wait, he showed up at work? Oh my God, he’s into you -”

“Not so fast,” you said. “I - he asked to meet with me after my shift. So, I did, and… well, he -”

“He what?” Robin asked, clearly impatient. “Did he ask you out? C’mon, you’re killing me here -”

“He offered to be my sugar daddy,” you said quickly, the words tumbling out. It was the first time you had said it out loud, and it felt ridiculous to even put it that way. But, that’s what it was, no matter how you sliced it.

For maybe the first time in her life, Robin had no words. Her mouth hung open, and you could’ve sworn you saw her brain reboot as she comprehended exactly what you just said.

“I - I’m sorry, what?”

“Well, that’s basically what he offered. Maybe there’s maybe a better term for it, but -”

“No, no, you need to tell me exactly what he said,” Robin demanded, crossing her legs on the bed. 

So you did. You explained every detail of Steve’s offer, as best as you could remember, watching how every version of disbelief and awe passed Robin’s face. It was only after you were done that she spoke:

“So, you’re doing it, right?”

You stared at her, eyes wide.

“What? I - I thought you’d tell me it’s a terrible idea -”

“Girl, no - I mean, think about it. He’s offering to pay you, enough that you don;t have to wear yourself down with work anymore, and you’ll get laid? It’s a win-win. Besides, I don’t even like men, and I can acknowledge that the guy is pretty easy on the eyes. I mean, we’ve established he’s not a murderer, right?”

You shrugged.

“I think so - he told me his full name, knows that I told you everything - if he’s a murderer, he’s one who's looking to get caught. But… this is crazy, right?”

Robin just shrugged, a mischievous look in her eye.

“Maybe. But, who ever said crazy was bad? I mean, if you really don’t want to do it, then don’t. But, do you have any reason not to?”

It was those words that rang through your head, all through your dinner (which ended up being a modge-podge of leftovers, after realizing that neither of you had done a proper grocery shop in a while), all while you and Robin watched a movie, and long after she went to bed.

It was nearly midnight when you pulled out your phone, staring once again at Steve’s text. You knew you should probably respond via text - there was a good chance he was already asleep. But, something else compelled you to tap on his contact and press call.

One ring. Two. On the third, a muffled click, and his voice, groggy and low.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” you whispered. “It’s me.”

“Oh! Hello,” he replied, sounding considerably more awake.

“I’m sorry - were you asleep?”

“Hm? No, no - don’t worry about that. Are you okay?”

You nodded, before remembering that he couldn’t see you.

“Yeah - yes. It’s just… I’ve thought a lot about your offer.”

Silence. Then, “...okay? And?”

He sounded cautious, and maybe even hopeful. You took a deep, shuddering breath before answering:

“Yeah. Let’s do it.”

*******

You didn’t actually see Steve for a few days after that. You did receive a text the following morning from Steve, which only read:

Let me know what days and times you’re free. We can meet to set up the arrangements.

And that was what the next few days entailed. First, you had a Zoom meeting with Steve, which felt ridiculously formal. He explained that it was because he was at work, and it was easier this way - by the end of it, he had set you up with a personal separate checking account and a platinum credit card. You had insisted that it wasn’t necessary, afraid he’d get in trouble, but he had only waved off your concerns - don’t worry - you’d be surprised what some of my colleagues get up to. Besides, as far as my accountant is concerned, you’re a client.

A few days later, a car pulled up to your apartment - Steve’s car. Only, he wasn’t in it - his driver informed you that he was there to pick you up for your appointment. The appointment, it turned out, was with a seamstress named Valentina, a bombastic and impassioned woman who had once worked for Versace before leaving to open her own independent brand as a designer. As you stood on a raised block and she measured every inch of you, all she wanted to do was talk. She prattled on about her job, her wife, her annoying neighbor, the fact that she’s a week behind on tailoring a wedding gown for some politician’s daughter. You managed to ask how she knew Steve, and she explained how she’s tailored all of his work attire in the time he’s been in Europe - he’d even had his suit shipped to her during his winter in London. Her rambling was occasionally interjected with what lovely arms you have, or you’d look gorgeous in this color, don’t you think?

Eventually, you worked up the courage to ask, “So, uh, what exactly are you going to make for me? Like, a dress?”

Valentina stopped mid-measuring, glancing up from where she was kneeling in front of you.

“You don’t know?” she asked.

You just shook your head in response, and she laughed.

“Well, Signore Harrington was quite clear - I am to make you everything.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“What do you mean, everything?”

“He said that everything you want to wear is to be made by me. Or, if you buy something else you like, I’m meant to tailor it, too. That’s why I’m keeping your measurements on file - to make sure everything fits you just right.”

“Oh.”

That was all you could muster. You had seen all of the fine, beautiful piece at the front of Valentia’s shop when you arrived - you had assumed maybe she was making one dress for you, for a special occasion. Or, you’d be picking something from the shop, and that was it. But this… how much money did Steve have?

“Nothing but the best, for Signore Harrington,” Valentina continued, resuming her work. “Which means nothing but the best for his ragazza.”

Girlfriend. You didn’t know whether that was a cover story Steve told her, or just an assumption she’d drawn, but you just chose to not respond, even as the word and all of the falsehoods behind it swirled in your mind.

It wasn’t until nearly a week later that you actually heard from Steve again. It’s another text, and you don’t see it until your lunch break during a coffee shop shift. It reads:

Are you busy tonight?

You stared at the text for a few moments, pondering everything it implied. Was this it? The beginning of… whatever this was? You took a moment to think, then replied:

No, why? I work until 4 and then I’m free

You saw the three dots appear for a second, then disappear. Then, his reply:

You’re working?

Yea I always work 8-4 on Thursdays

You don’t need to do that, you know.

Are you saying I’m not allowed to?

Of course you are, but just know that you don’t need to. I’ll take care of you.

You read that last sentence a few more times than was probably necessary. Then, he texted again:

So, you are free tonight, yes?

You pause for a moment before sending yes.

Great - I’ll come pick you up at 7? Let’s do dinner.

Then, the bell above the door was ringing, and your manager was calling for you as the line of customers grew, your 15-minute break somehow already over.

Sounds good see you then

That was how you found yourself practically sprinting out the door when your shift ended, just barely catching the bus, internally wishing it would skip every other stop by some miracle and get you home as quickly as possible. That, of course, doesn’t happen, and you briefly wondered if you should’ve just used your credit card and called a taxi. The thought suddenly feels ridiculous - you hadn’t actually used any of Steve’s money yet. You knew he said you should, but it felt strange to just frivolously spend someone else’s money like that. So instead, you leaned your head against the bus window, and willed it to move faster.

When you finally arrived home, you were only in the door for a few seconds before Robin was running up to you, eyes wide with glee.

“There you are! Look at this shit - did you know this was coming?”

“Did I - what?” you asked, confused and still a bit out of breath from how briskly you trekked two blocks and up the stairs. 

“Okay, clearly you didn’t - c’mere, some lady came and dropped this off earlier today -”

You followed her as she spoke, stopping in your tracks at your bedroom door.

“What the -”

Hanging in your doorway was a thick garment bag on a gold hanger, the door propped open with a dark, leather-bound trunk.

Before you could ask anything else, you were unzipping the bag with shaky hands, gasping as you saw the contents - inside were four dresses, probably nicer than anything you’d worn in your life, all adorned with Valentina’s sigil on the inside. 

“Whoa,” Robin said from behind you. “Are those from -”

“Yeah,” you said, cutting her off. “I - I think they’re all custom-made.”

It was then that you noticed a small envelope tucked inside, with a now-familiar wax seal. You practically tore it open, and it read:

I had Valentina send over these first few garments - there’ll be more to come. I think the white one would look great on you for tonight, with the gold shoes. I’ll see you at 7.

S.H.

“Holy shit,” Robin whispered, followed by a low whistle. “He’s really taking this whole thing seriously, isn’t he?”

You nodded, running your thumb over Steve’s handwriting a few times.

“Okay, you’ve got to tell me - is he just like, really bad in bed or something? Like, is that why he’s doing all this -”

“I wouldn’t know,” you admitted. “Not yet, anyway.”

“Wait - you haven’t slept with him yet?”

You shook your head, pinching the fabric of the white dress hanging in front, feeling the soft satin between your fingers.

“No,” you said. “I’m seeing him tonight, though.”

“Holy shit,” Robin said. “How is this your life now?”

You shook your head in disbelief.

“I have no clue.”

*******

Two hours later, after a long, contemplative shower, and fussing maybe a bit too much with your hair and makeup, you found yourself wearing the dress and heels from the trunk, as instructed. Well, it was more of a suggestion than instruction, but who were you to object?

The dress had slipped on with ease, and it was maybe the lightest, softest thing you had ever worn - it fit like a glove, enough that you didn’t think a single other person in the world could put this on if they tried. You understood now why Steve used Valentina - she was damn good at her job. 

You stared at yourself in the mirror, not exactly recognizing yourself. It felt like you were going to some costume party, if the costume in question was a dress finer than anything you’d ever worn and shoes that probably cost more than you were willing to find out. The dress was light and flowy, hitting right above your knees. You did a quick 360, and took a deep breath - this was fine. It was great, actually - it was just dinner, that was all. Maybe. Probably.

When you emerged from the bedroom, Robin nearly fell off of the couch, jaw slack.

“Who are you, and what’ve you done with my roommate?”

You rolled your eyes, giving Robin a spin for the full effect. She just laughed, shaking her head incredulously.

“Seriously, though - you look great. Like, sophisticated, but in a hot way, I promise.”

“I don’t know if that’s a thing,” you said.

“‘Course it is, I’m looking at it!”

Before you could say anything else, you heard your buzzer ring - someone was downstairs.

You shared a look with Robin, and she bounced excitedly on the couch, urging you to answer. You went to the intercom, pressing the talk button and leaning in closely, remembering how notoriously bad the sound quality on this thing was.

“Um, hello?”

“Hey - it’s me,” Steve’s voice said, distorted a bit through the crackly speaker. “Are you ready to go?”

Oh, God. He actually came to the door.

“Yep! I’ll be down in a minute!”

“Are you sure? I can come up, if you want -”

“No!” you replied quickly - you glanced back at your tiny, and currently messy, apartment, and imagined he’d die if he ever saw it.

“It’s okay - it’s a third floor walkup… I’ll come down.”

“Yeah, okay,” he conceded.

You shot a glance back at Robin, who was giving you two thumbs-up.

“Wish me luck,” you said, suddenly feeling waves of anxiety rolling through you - this was suddenly so real, what the Hell are you even doing - 

“Don’t do that,” Robin said firmly.

“Do what?”

“Freak out.”

“I’m not freaking out -”

“Yeah, you are,” she interjected. “It’s fine - in fact, it’s less pressure than a real date. And I’ve got your location, so if you go missing -”

“Ha, ha,” you replied, voice laced with sarcasm. “Goodnight, Robin.”

Before she could tease you or ask any more questions, you were out the door and heading down the stairs, heart fluttering as you descended each flight, knowing it’d bring you closer to him.

And, when you opened the door, there he was - much more formal than the last time you had seen him, wearing a slim-fitting suit and a friendly smile. When he saw you, he stepped back for a moment, eyes widening.

“I - wow. Look at you.”

You felt your heart flip, your face flushing.

“Well, I have you to thank for that. Or, Valentina, I guess.”

“Oh, yeah,” he agreed. “Mostly Valentina - I don’t really know anything about women’s fashion, so I told her to do what she thought was best for you.”

“And did she?” you asked.

He looked you up and down again, nodding.

“I’ll say - you really do look beautiful, you know,” he said, voice a little softer now.

You felt your face heat even more, and decided not to respond. After a moment, Steve stepped back and waved you ahead, following you down the steps towards the car parked on the curb. He opened the door for you, allowing you to slide in across the backseat before following.

As the car peeled away and onto the road, Steve cleared his throat.

“So - I got you a little something.”

Before you could ask or protest, he was handing you a small white box. You opened it slowly, gasping as you got a look inside - it was a necklace. A gold necklace, with a diamond pendant that glistened more than anything you’d ever seen. The whole thing must’ve been real - you were no expert, but it had to be. It was simple, but so clearly nicer that any of the plated stuff you had sitting on your dresser at home.

You just held the box in your hand, staring at it for a moment as you examined the contents. You slowly traced the chain with your finger, your thoughts only interrupted by Steve.

“If you don’t like it, we can return it, and you can pick out something you like better - I have the receipt, I just didn’t really know what you liked -”

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered. You realized he had taken your silence for rejection, and the idea was enough to make you sick.

“But - I can’t accept this. It must’ve been so expensive -”

“Don’t worry about that,” Steve interrupted. “I wanted to get you something nice, and I thought it’d look nice on you.”

You glanced to the front of the car to gauge how much the driver was paying attention, and leaned in closer to Steve with a whisper.

“You already wired me my rent, tuition, and my allowance - which was a crazy amount, by the way - and, the clothes, all of it… not that I’m not grateful. I am, I just… you’ve already spent so much, you’re going to end up spoiling me -”

“Maybe I want to spoil you,” he murmured.

Whatever you were planning on saying next vanished, the words dying in your throat. So you just went quiet, looking down at the necklace in your lap again.

“Can I?” he asked.

Knowing what he was asking, you nodded, gathering your hair to the side as he extracted the necklace from its box. He unlatched it and pulled it up around the exposed slope of your neck, his fingers brushing your skin as he closed it again. You felt your breath hitched, the feeling of his fingers ever-so-lightly touching you lighting your skin on fire.

“I do have a question,” you asked, fixing your hair as you gazed down as where the pendant rested on your sternum.

“Mm hm?”

“If - if I suddenly changed my mind about this - this whole arrangement… do I need to pay you back?”

He shook his head fervently.

“No - definitely not. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do - if you ever want to stop, let me know, and you can keep whatever I’ve given you. No need to pay me back, I promise. You’re allowed to change your mind, I - I don’t own you.”

“Right,” you said, biting your lip. Then you managed to finally meet his gaze, and he was looking at you so sincerely it made you want to cry. And his face was close - so, so close.

Then, you were leaning across the seat and bringing your hand to cup his jaw, pressing your lips to his. He tensed for a second, then leaned into the kiss. You pulled back after a moment, and he just stared at you, bewildered.

“What was that for?” he asked softly.

“To say thank you,” you replied, hand still brushing his face.

“And,” you added, “I’ve actually changed my mind about one thing.”

His brow furrowed, and you realized that you accidentally sent him into panic mode.

“About what?”

“Let’s skip dinner,” you whispered. “I want to go to your place instead.”

Author's note: thanks everyone for all the enthusiasm for the story so far! Just a warning, there's a lot of smut ahead, so get ready for that! As always, shoutout to Em, who's basically my co-author. Your replies, comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated!

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[freedomfireflies]

I would love to read a blurb from you about H taking care of his newborn baby boy 🥺

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t—

Harry’s hands shake as he slowly reaches down into the bassinet to retrieve the tiny human screaming for his attention and care.

Truth be told, he’s honestly not sure which one of them he’s telling not to cry.

Nevertheless, the squirmy infant begins to wiggle in his large palms as he brings the child up toward his chest.

“It’s okay…it’s okay, you’re all right,” he whispers, doing his best to speak in his most soothing tone. “Another nightmare, huh? S’okay, I get it. I get them, too.”

There’s some wet cooing as Harry cups the child’s bottom and tucks them just under his chin, right over his racing heart. 

He’d read that skin-on-skin contact is crucial for newborns to create a strong bond, so now he spends a majority of his time shirtless just in case the child needs that added comfort.

And if Harry is being honest with himself, he probably gets more comfort out of it than the baby.

After a moment, the fussing begins to subside, and Harry exhales the deep breath that had been caught in his lungs as he unwinds. Then, he moves for the rocking chair in the corner of the room, gingerly taking a seat as the baby begins to fidget in his hold.

“Okay, it’s okay,” he murmurs, swaying them back and forth. “It’s all right, I’ve got you. Daddy’s got you.”

The sweet baby brings its tiny thumb to its mouth, tucking it between small, pouted lips as it begins to settle.

“There you go,” Harry says, lashes fluttering as he looks down. “I know, it’s hard to sleep without her. Especially when it’s all you’ve ever known…”

There’s a catch in Harry’s throat as he glances back up, eyes falling to the side of the bed where she used to lay. 

It’s been three weeks. Only three weeks since Harry had to come home from the hospital alone, and he has absolutely no idea how he’s made it this far.

He doesn’t sleep. Which isn’t unusual for new parents, but it goes deeper than that. He doesn’t sleep because he doesn’t know how. He doesn’t know how to sleep in a bed she’s no longer in.

And he doesn’t eat, either. Because he can’t stand to go into the same kitchen she used to love. The same kitchen she used to spend each of her Sunday mornings in as she cooked them pancakes and listened to French music.

He doesn’t go out. He doesn’t leave their house. He’s a stranger to the outside world and apart from when his mother comes over to babysit, he doesn’t talk to anyone.

It’s just him and the baby now.

And he doesn’t exactly want that to change. He doesn’t want to lose these moments because at least he can pretend that he still has her.

She’s everywhere. Her memory lives within this house. Within their child. He can see her in the baby’s eyes. In the way it tries to smile or reach out and grab onto his thumb when it needs him close by.

And it breaks his heart because their baby will never hear the sound of her laugh or feel her reassuring touch.

He has no idea if he’ll be enough. If he can give this child the life it deserves or the love he knows she would have given them. 

He can only do what she would want him to.

His best.

“She loved you so much,” Harry whispers, cheek pressing into the baby’s head. “So, so much. The last thing she ever did was hold you and tell you she loved you. You were the most important thing in the world to her.”

The child only coos as it slips back into a dream-like state, still curled up against Harry’s bare chest as he rocks them back and forth.

Harry smiles. “It’s you and me now, okay? Us against the world. Us. Always.”

He means that more than he's ever meant anything in his life.

And that’s a promise he doesn’t plan to break.

It's short, I know, but I AM planning a second part so I can explore all the other amazing ideas you guys sent in, I promise!!

Thank you again so much to the original anon, and I hope you don't mind that I changed a couple tiny details! 😭💞

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

[zhuoyichenpretty]

aww yeah ep 20 GOOD

I guess I do (very casual, broadstroke) episode commentaries now, halfway through the show lmao. Spoilers below!!

Bai Jiu BETRAYAL?

Wen Xiao WANTED?

Zhuo Yichen DETECTIVE-ING?

Ying Lei BACK?

*crowd cheers*

The dots are connecting like crazy with the big bad's whole inner core crusade and also with the simultaneous demon case like I did not recognize Ao Yin as the demon Li Lun first released eight years ago but oooh do I enjoy that minor payoff.

Love the repeated use of the demonic-spell-restraining sigils now that we've been introduced to them though I wonder why the Bureau doesn't ever seem to make use of them. Maybe they don't deal with enough powerful demons to need to paint those in their own (very empty) dungeon? Or perhaps just plot convenience. (edit: someone has pointed out the Bureau indeed uses them!! I'm just blind <3)

Anyway I kind of wish in the Chongwu Camp dungeon PSJ fought a little bc she's so cool in action and their bailing was a little abrupt, but it makes sense that they'd have an immediate getaway plan. Also this is an ep 19 comment but that line Mr. 3-Face Mask delivered about PSJ being fated to always be betrayed by her little brother(s) HURT. So good.

Back to the Bureau, I do love me a good framing, and I'm also happy to get a tiny bit of the episodic demon-murder-case style back. WX was v clever to hide out in Situ Mansion, and (small detail but) I appreciate that the others catch her up on the Bai Jiu thing onscreen. As an aside, I also like that the actress for WX got to be double-casted even just briefly. Seeing some of the actors get to play around with portraying various extremes in characterization and costuming is a ton of fun.

And then yay Bai Jiu backstory at last~! It's crazy how much that blood moon fucked up everyone's lives eight years ago huh.

Everything ZYC says to him is on point (and honestly, ZYC is really quite adept at comforting others, he just sucks utter ass at it when it's his fault and he has to apologize lmaooo) but of course my favorite scene in the whole episode is as follows:

The very slight shine in the waterline, the bittersweet smile/grimace as, deliberately or not, ZYC's words indirectly echo everything about the circumstances between the two of them right now??? Whew. They did that for me specifically.

Anyway, this was a good one to chew on for me, packed with plot movement enough that I didn't feel unsatisfied with just one episode. I'm glad that so far it seems like the release schedule bears in mind what episodes should be watched in pairs for maximum effect (eps 16/17, 18/19 specifically) and which ones are okay to stand alone for the day, but I also don't want to speak too soon haha. We'll see how ep 21 fares.

Also since this is a ZYC stan account (lmao) I have some obligatory ZYC thoughts that I haven't managed to fit anywhere else. I've been meaning to comment on this for a while now and was reminded by this episode: I love the fact that ZYC actually smiles quite often. I think it's a bit surprising every time he does because he so easily fits the archetype of stoic broody action hero, but it really is just an archetype he's fit himself into, and it's never clearer than when they flash back to smiley baby!ZYC (how freely and purely he used to give those smiles away...).

On the other side of this is also how caustic and biting he can be with his words, whether sarcastically or otherwise, and how clearly his face telegraphs his emotions in general. I love that he actually emotes quite a lot and isn't cold and unaffected in the least, just pouty frowny and awkward.

The last piece to this for me is probably his age (which I very much appreciated being established super early on) and how convincingly TJR portrays him as young and inexperienced and extremely earnest. He's so sincere in everything he does that it really doesn't take much to move him, which also (imo) makes his arc less overdone.

We all know from the start what direction his development will likely go, how he'll learn he's mistaken about ZYZ and how he'll grow to have a more nuanced view of the world as he creates more bonds with others. But he's so emotional and emotionally aware that it doesn't really take much push and pull to get him there. And actually, it's not untread ground to him—he is moreso thawing, in part returning to the open-hearted nature that he had to very abruptly shutter away rather than fundamentally changing as a person. I think to me, that makes his character more compelling to watch because his cynicism about the world is perhaps the least sincere thing about him. It's entirely learned, and not by choice. Relatable.

[sxffrxn]

When love strikes OP81

An Oscar Piastri x reader, enemies to lovers story

Part One Part Two

Summary: Oscar Piastri and Y/N L/N have a long-lasting feud, nobody knows why. Do they themselves know why?

Warnings: swearing, Oscar and Y/N literally act like children, grammar mistakes, messy

Word Count: 1.4k

~~

Arriving back at home was like a blessing from the Gods. As soon as Y/N stepped foot in her apartment, her coat was thrown off as she leaped onto her bed, luggage forgotten. That night, she had the best sleep she had in a very long time, despite still being in her travelling clothes.

When she woke up and checked her phone she found her instagram was blowing up. Panic coursed itself through her body. Was she cancelled online? Has someone made up some bullshit to spread about her?

But, alas, it was her interview. It had gone viral. Some people were speculating about Oscar and Y/N’s relationship, and some had compiled an entire 30 minute video of the pair being downright unpleasant to each other. Although Y/N did in fact watch the whole video - in 3x speed, she wasn’t watching a 30 minute long video - she has to admit some of these were a stretch, I mean there was one scene where they simply walked past each other, opposite sides of the walkway may I add.

Both Lamborghini and Mclaren’s PR teams were going to have a field day with this one.

About an hour later, Y/N got a call from her assistant, Gemma,

“What have you done Y/N, the internet is in shambles!” she started.

“No, Hi how are you? Are you well rested? Why yes I am thank you for asking.” Y/N replied.

“Y/N I don’t think you understand the severity of this. We have had Mclaren on the phone all morning trying to sort this mess out.”

“Gem, I replied the way I was supposed to, I can’t think of another way I could have handled that without it turning into a brawl!” Y/N answered in a less polite tone than she should have used.

“Y/N” she started, “I know you handled it the best way you could. I’m sorry this is just so stressful. I don't know how to say this..”

“Say what? Surely it's not that bad. I mean they’re not kicking me off the team are they? I’ve only done one race an-“ she was cut off by Gemma again.

“They want you to act as though you are civil. Friends even. And I’m not talking, not sending glares at the other. I mean they want you to do all sorts of things with him.” Y/N’s heart dropped, she could not do this. Did this tiny altercation have to resort to this? No. But was Y/N a petty bitch? Abso-fucking-lutely.

“Gem, I’m not pretending to date him or anything like that, I’ve read a lot of books with that in and I hate it.”

“No, Y/N, you do not have to pretend to date Oscar Piastri,” she let out a sigh of relief, “You will, however, have to go to many events with him to show you guys are really just friends off track and rivals on.”

“Ughhhhh. Do I have to? Like what’s the significance of this?” Y/N tried to bargain.

“The significance is,” Gemma started, “not fucking up the internet more than you have - and yes, again, I know it’s not your fault for the interviewer’s question but we need to uphold the reputation of this team. Unfortunately women are always the problem in the media’s eyes.”

Y/N sighed rolling around on her bed and taking a big sip of water,

“Fine, but don’t expect me to apologise to anyone for anything. I hardly did anything wrong!” Maybe the last part was a little fib but Y/N stood her ground.

—

It was media day for the Saudi Arabian grand prix. Y/N sat in her hotel room completing a round of sudoku on her phone - her newest favourite past-time. She was waiting for a knock at her door from Gemma to explain the plan of action for today. Today commenced the ‘sort shit out with Oscar bloody Piastri’ plan, she was given minute details about how they would be miraculously saving each of their reputations. I mean, Y/N could hardly see the problem with rivalry on track, I mean look at Pierre Gasly and Esteban Ocon, they had some issues - Y/N thinks so anyway - and nobody batted an eye, well I guess they weren’t as hostile with each other as Piastri and Y/N are.

A knock resounded through Y/N hotel room.

“Coming!” she went to the door and was met with the smiley face of Gemma,

“Gem you’re,” she checked her watch, “20 minutes early!”

“Yet you are all ready, what happened to ‘Little Miss constantly 10 minutes late’?” Gemma responded.

“Shitting bricks Gem.” Y/N patted Gemma on the back as she stepped out of her room and locked the door, “Let’s get this over and done with, yeah?”

Gemma filled Y/N in on the plan for the start of the day, Y/N would meet Oscar in the foyer of the hotel, have a few laughs and then head to the paddock, they would re-evaluate from there.

Y/N could feel herself gagging as she stepped into the main entrance, yes she was being very dramatic, but this was more stressful than telling her mum she had forgotten to take the chicken out of the freezer to defrost when specifically asked to. Oscar turned and scowled as Y/N walked up to him, this was going to be way harder than he thought. Gemma gave Y/N a firm pat on the back to usher her towards the aussie. They had fake paparazzi stationed just outside the hotel to get the best angles of their positive encounter. When Y/N felt a hand on her back, it was like a switch had been flicked and she grinned at Oscar as though they were best friends, she really channelled the 9 in her drama GCSE for this one moment.

She waved at Oscar as she got closer and he got the memo to sort himself out and act. They began walking out the door and to the shared car they would be taking (Y/N screamed into her hands and nearly punched a hole in the lift door when she found out they'd be car sharing), Oscar opened the door for Y/N to climb into the back seat before he got in. Both Oscar and Y/N had practically begged Gemma to be the peacekeeper and sit between them, but she claimed that she ‘needed to sit in the front because she gets motion sickness’ Y/N called out her shit and said that they had spent millions of car rides together in the back.

It was hard to not grab Oscar by the throat and throttle him into next week but Y/N kept her composure - and kept her hands to herself. It was almost peaceful at first, if you ignore the massive amounts of tension between the two, but that all soon changed as soon as Oscar opened his mouth,

“Do you know how long the car ride is?” he asked, directed to literally anyone in the car who could give him an answer.

“Longer than your F1 debut race” Y/N muttered under her breath, she did mean for him to hear it as she thought it was a pretty good joke. Turns out, it's probably not best to joke about race finishes - in this case, race not finishes - with someone who despises you.

“What the fuck, that’s not funny” he said turning to her.

Y/N stayed staring at her phone but let out a little giggle at his response. Oscar huffed and practically threw himself back into his seat.

“It’s about a 45 minute drive, Oscar” The driver, Kim (also Oscar’s performance coach) answered for him.

‘45 minutes with this bellend’ Y/N said in her mind before rolling her eyes and rotating her phone to watch a show on Netflix.

Oscar was in the same boat ‘No fucking way am I spending 45 minutes with her’ he thought to himself.

A loud ding sound echoed through the back of the car,

“Are you playing sudoku? What are you a fucking child?” Oscar commented. Y/N just scowled at him and stuck her tongue out. Oscar gave her a pointed look, then she realised, huffed, and pushed herself further into her seat.

This was going to be one hell of a car ride.

A/N: Hey guys sorry for the late update, I didn’t drop off the face of the earth. I’ve been so stressed out with schoolwork recently so updates will be scarce 😬 Thank you guys for all the support on the first part I literally love you all!!! Still working out the ropes to tumblr but i promise I will get there in the end.

Taglist: @chiliwhore (comment or lmk to be added i guess!!)