#i totally understand what he wants to say

[shencomix]

I went to kind of a sketchy high school

So when I was a kid, my parents split, and I ended up going with my mom to live in a different town so she could be closer to work. I was hoping to go to the same high school as my friends, but where we moved was an entirely different school district (and would've been too far to drive anyway), so I had to just settle for staying in touch online.

This new school though, I had no idea what tf was going on. The building was what I can only describe as "run down." The teachers were arguably more absent than the students, just completely checked out and totally surrendered to the chaos that the students created on a near daily basis.

As for the students, I for the life of me could not understand what they were saying. I don't know if it was their accent but I just could not parse it at all -- all I could do was stare in confusion when they tried to talk to me. Sometimes I'd think they asked me a question and nod, much to their chagrin.

So anyway, this one time I realized that I forgot my pencil and eraser in their case at home. Not that I usually needed it at that place, but I liked to be thorough and prepared. I went up to this one kid who looked relatively friendly and tapped him on the shoulder, wanting to ask him if he had a spare writing utensil I could borrow. And he turns around.

And

No kidding

He has a gun.

This kid has a gun. It's not even a little derringer or a pistol or anything, it's pretty BIG. But that's not even the strangest thing he's holding

I look at his other hand and he's got 2 microphones. He tosses one to me and I catch it, scared out of my mind. Then he raises his microphone to his face and goes:

"BA WA WA WA WA WA"

and looks at me expectantly.

I stare back, stunned in primal fear.

He repeats, once again going:

"BA WA WA WA WA WA"

Into the mic he's holding and looks at me. So, taking a guessing at what he wants me to do, I force my trembling hands to raise the mic he tossed me to my face and say back into it:

"b-ba wa wa w-wa wa wa"

I fucking hated that school, dude.

[moonstruckme]

Hey angel!! hope ur doing well!!

i was wondering if I could request roommate!marauders where they have crushes on reader buttt she already has a bf but he's just a total jerk.... and u sorta get the idea?? (if u haven't done one like this already)

much love!!! <3333

Thank you for requesting lovely <3

cw: douchebag boyfriend, marauders fancy reader but don't genuinely want her to cheat or end her relationship for them

(poly)roommate!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

It’s heartbreaking how lovely you look first thing in the morning. Sweet, rumpled pajamas, plodding gait, sunlight stretching over features still soft with sleep. You raise your hand to cover a yawn as you enter the kitchen, eyelashes still drooping like they’ve weights sewn into them. 

“Morning,” you say on the tail end. 

“Morning.” James opens one arm to you. You step into the hug automatically, and he drops a kiss to your head, his own private indulgence. You’re eyeing the omelet he’s frying up with his other hand. “Want one?” 

“Mm, wish I could,” your voice is a somnolent mumble, “but Dale’s taking me to breakfast in a bit.” 

James tries not to react, but his hold on you stiffens some. From the living room, he hears Sirius scoff. “Oh.” 

“I’m sure your omelet would be better.” You pat his side, moving out from under his arm to go to the coffee pot. “We’re going to this cafe he likes, and they never have anything I want. Still, I can hardly show up full.” 

James feels himself frown. Typical of your boyfriend to take you somewhere you don’t even like. Perhaps he’s a tad biased, but James thinks you should eat one of his omelets and show up full just to teach him a lesson. 

He plates up the one he’s just finished. You tail him into the living room as he delivers it to Sirius, curling your feet up underneath you on the couch. Remus is sitting in the armchair reading the paper. He and James have already had their breakfasts, but you and Sirius are always the last up on weekends.

“Are you finished with the funnies?” you ask Remus. 

He looks up at you with a tenderness James doesn’t know how you can’t see. “Yeah,” he says, shaking out a page. “Here.” 

Sirius snickers at your choice of reading material as you reach across him for it. You nudge his thigh with your knee. “Bite me.” 

“Anywhere you’d like me to, babe.” He winks. 

You roll your eyes and fold the page to read, well used to Sirius’ flirting. Similarly to how he’d done with Remus, Sirius’ ill-advised tactic for winning you over involves alternating between taunting you relentlessly and acting like his affection for you is all one big joke. It only barely worked on Remus—James’ interference had been required there, and that was before he’d admitted to himself his own feelings for either of the two boys—so James doesn’t understand why Sirius would give it another go with you. 

“Oh.” Remus closes his paper, seeming to remember something. “I was wondering if you might have time to go with me to the farmer’s market this morning. We’re out of eggs, but I can’t haggle with the woman like you do.” 

You give him a sorry sort of smile. “I would, but Dale’s meant to pick me up at ten.”

“Oh, well.” Sirius rolls his eyes, chewing malignantly on a bite of omelet. “If Dale said he’ll be here at ten, then surely that’s what’s happening.” 

You bump his thigh again good naturedly. “Be nice.” 

James bites his tongue, and even Remus reopens his newspaper with a tad more vigor than necessary. Sirius is by far the most vocal with you about your boyfriend’s flaws, but your roommates all hate him. The guy’s a prick. James would never in a million years try to convince you to leave your partner for them—and despite Sirius’ joking, he knows neither of the other boys would want that either—but if you broke up with Dale, he would be very tempted to throw a party. 

James really doesn’t understand how someone like you could end up with someone so holistically unpleasant as your boyfriend. He’s rude, inconsiderate, he doesn’t express any gratitude for the sweet things you do for him, and he is never where he says he’s going to be when he says he’s going to be there. He shows so little regard for anyone but himself. If he told you he was going to pick you up at ten in the morning, he’s just as likely to arrive at three in the afternoon. Even for your half-hearted defense of him, it’s nearly ten and you’ve made no move to change out of your pajamas or get ready, because you know he won’t be here on time. It irks your roommates to no end to see you tolerate such poor treatment. 

“Maybe you can go with Remus to the farmer’s market,” you tell Sirius. “You seem like you could negotiate.” 

“Sirius doesn’t know how much eggs are supposed to cost,” Remus says idly. 

“Oi!” Sirius objects through a mouthful of omelet. “I do so.” 

James smiles at him. “Really. How much do you think eggs cost, love?” 

Sirius manages to take another bite while James is asking, so his mouth is conveniently too full to answer. 

“I can manage it on my own,” Remus says with indulgent fondness. “Dove, do me one favor, though?” 

You lift your coffee. “Sure.” 

“Don’t let him summon you outside with his horn again.” 

There’s a brief but thick silence while you finish swallowing your coffee and all three boys try not to look too obviously judgmental (Sirius trying the least, naturally). The purse of your lips reveals some embarrassment. 

Still, your voice comes out unconcerned. “It’s not a big deal to me. It’s not like we’re in school and I need him to come to the door and meet my parents. It’s a time saver.” 

“It’s rude,” says Remus gently. “You deserve someone who will come to the door for you.” 

James’ thoughts exactly. 

“Sure you don’t want some toast or something while you wait?” James asks, partly to dispel the tension and partly because he really does think you should eat something if Dale isn’t likely to be here until the afternoon. “You could call it an appetizer.” 

You stand with your emptied coffee mug, passing an affectionate hand over James’ hair as you move between his legs and the coffee table. “Thanks,” you say genuinely, “but I’m alright. I’m going to go get ready.” 

However eager James is to avoid the tension that comes from insulting (or, really, just speaking frankly about) your boyfriend, Sirius has no such concerns. “While we’re telling Dale things,” he says after you, “be sure to remind him that our flat has a three-strike roommate tears policy. Next time you come home crying, Jamie and I get to make a house call.” 

Your laughter echoes down the hallway. “Sure, I’ll let him know.” 

Sirius looks at James, perplexed. “Did I sound like I was joking? I was not using my joking voice.” 

James pats his leg consolingly.

[hannie-dul-set]

IT’S NOT WORTH TRYING TO LEARN OTHER PEOPLE’S LOVE LANGUAGES.

p — MYUNG JAEHYUN x fem! reader. g — humor, fluff, park sungho learns a lesson about minding his own business. w — swearing, death threats (as a form of flirting). 1.5k words.

requested by — @gluion “go kill yourself x “i’m pretty sure they have a crush on me”

note — part of my ship dynamics: insane edition gimmick. this is very the breakup soup coded. i just like writing about a bunch of idiots stressing about the dumpster fire love life of their friend. enjoy.

myung jaehyun’s friends are pretty sure he’s had a very stable, very loving, very normal upbringing.

“stop staring at me, you fucking creep.”

“sorry, i didn’t mean to make your heart flutter. can’t help it when you’re so pretty.”

“i’ll stab your fucking eyes out.”

“my eyes are all yours, pretty.”

so they can’t wrap their head around why he’s acting like he has not a single ounce of self-respect in his body. sungho and leehan watch as their pitiful friend gets shut down again by the most venomous glare, hostile sneer, deflected by the biggest pair of heart eyes in the world that’s ever longingly following your disappearing figure out the library door. “she wants me so bad,” he concludes with a self-righteous smile as he arranges his notes into one neat stack. sungho and leehan share a look. god almighty, please grant their friend wisdom and salvation.

“what...what makes you say that?” sungho attempts to prod. the first step to finding a solution is to figure out the situation. they need to know why myung jaehyun is so down bad for you, and why he’s so convinced that you feel the same way.

“huh?” jaehyun perks up. like he’s genuinely confused sungho has to ask that. “she was so flustered earlier. couldn’t you tell? it was adorable.”

“she threatened to mutilate you…?” 

jaehyun beams. “she sure did.”

there...there is no point trying to understand him, sungho concludes. leehan is, for lack of a better word, getting mildly frustrated. “hyung, what the hell?” he raises. “if telling someone you want them dead is an indication of romantic feelings, then my middle school bullies must’ve been head over heels for me.”

a silence. a pause. “we’ll unpack that later,” sungho tells him. then shifts his attention back to problem child number one. “you. you’re a grown man who has full autonomy over his actions and feelings, and i know that. but as your friend, i just can’t keep watching you being disrespected, jaehyun. i can’t help but get angry on your behalf when you greet her good morning and alll she does is tell you to go fuck yourself!”

admittedly, sungho got a little bit heated at the end there. but he has every right to feel this emotion on behalf of his dense and seemingly unaffected friend— who is still sitting there, a smile on his face, hands on his lap like a patient buddha who has learned the true meaning of peace and serenity.

“sungho-yah,” jaehyun starts with a pleasant hum. “there’s no need to worry. the feeling is totally mutual. i’m telling you, she likes me back.”

speechless.

in fact, sungho and leehan are beyond speechless. they have no idea where this ungrounded certainty comes from. they certainly have even less of an idea on how to fix his lovesickness, bordering on insanity.

so, reasonably— they call for backup.

“the only way for him to get his shit together is if he asks her out for real and finally gets rejected for good,” taesan declares confidently. somehow, they see a point. riwoo lets out an echo of agreement. woonhak asks why they’re all excluding jaehyun from this after school garage meeting. “do you guys know when he’s planning on doing that?”

“no idea,” leehan answers. “but maybe we can pressure him into it.”

“so, should we encourage him instead of telling him to give it up?” sungho raises. taesan affirms. sungho lets out a grunt and a huff. “god, that’s gonna be tough.”

a resounding voice of dissent arises from woonhak. “i don’t get why you’re all going against jaehyun-hyung!” he yells indignantly. “let hyung love whoever he wants! this is a free country! you guys can’t dictate his love!”

“he’s received fuck you’s straight in the face and swears she’s flirting, woonhak. you’re too young to understand.”

it’s four votes against one. woonhak can’t win against his hyung’s determination to save myung jaehyun from his self-dug pit of pitifulness that he’d been in ever since laying eyes on you at the freshman orientation. god, they never should’ve went. he never should’ve shot down jaehyun’s suggestion to just skip it. maybe then, myung jaehyun would still be normal.

but this is not the time to lament and regret. it’s time for sungho to right his wrongs. it’s time to bring jaehyun’s self-respect back, they decide. and it starts with a wake-up call in the form of your inevitable, brutal rejection. 

which, for some reason, does not happen as planned.

“what?”

“we’re going on a date.” jaehyun is as chipper as ever and sungho’s ears are starting to ring. “thanks for the encouragement, sungho!”

it’s ringing. it’s ringing so badly. “wait, what do you mean you’re going on a date?” he attempts to clarify, grabbing jaehyun by the shoulders because this is two-parts concerning, one-part kind of…proud? this guy actually succeeded? “she said yes? she didn’t tell you to fuck off and die in a hole?”

“she did. she looked pretty while saying it.” jaehyun answers with a bright grin. nevermind. this is all parts concerning. sungho “she also told me she’d kill me if i pick her up late after her class tomorrow. we’re going to have dinner at the thai restaurant that just opened. riwoo recommended it.”

sungho does not understand. he cannot understand because you, who seems to hate all of myung jaehyun’s guts for no discernible reason, agreed to go on a date with him? hello? has jaehyun been right this whole time? do you really reciprocate his feelings? or is this just some new form of torture? is his friend a masochist? is he the weird one for making a big fucking deal out of this? is this how relationships work nowadays?

a thought enters sungho’s mind.

hold on a second—

“anyway, i gotta go, dude. a pretty girl is waiting for me.”

—what if this date is a ploy for you to finally get the chance to kill him?

oh my god.

“wait!” sungho’s face is pale. his eyes are wide and frantic. “don’t—don’t go on the date!”

“hm?” jaehyun bats his eyes at him, taking a moment to think. then sparkles in realization. “oh! don’t worry. i’m not gonna show up looking like this. i’m gonna head home first to change.”

“that’s not the problem! jaehyun! no! no!”

this is it, his friend is going to die. that is, unless, he shows up on your date just in time to stop it. yes. there’s still a chance. he knows where the date is happening. he’s gonna tell the rest of them because there’s no way in hell they’d allow myung jaehyun’s cause of death to read stupidity by misconstruing your murderous intent as affection. they are not only going to save jaehyun’s life— but his dignity as well.

“remember, be quiet. be inconspicuous. they can’t figure out we’re here.”

hopefully, things go as planned this time. all five of them are gathered in a booth at the said thai restaurant, the eventual scene of the crime unless they do something about it. sungho is surveying the scene to find where you and jaehyun are seated. leehan nearly trips over his unnecessarily long trench coat while trying to cover more ground. woonhak is using the menu as cover but has since gotten distracted and has started to pick out his order with riwoo and taesan. “hyung, is the khao soi good?”

“yeah, we should order it.”

“what drinks should we get?”

this is hopeless. this is a mess. their best friend is about to die and all they can think about is dinner.

no matter. sungho can still take care of this himself. his eyes scan the main restaurant wing, from left to right, until his eyes double over in a screeching halt to the back of a very familiar round head—

“huh.”

the back of a very familiar round head that doesn’t seem to be facing the threat of decapitation.

sungho sees you and jaehyun sitting across from one another, jaehyun’s fairly loud voice raising over the music and utensils clattering, people chatting and passing by. “you’ve got something on your face.”

“touch my face, and i’ll kill y— hey!”

first of all, sungho wants to claw his own eyes out seeing his friend being disgustingly sweet. second, jaehyun did touch your face with a napkin and it does not seem like you’re attempting to murder him. in fact, you look flustered even. flushed despite the harbored glare, still seated despite your apparent derision and disgust. the back of jaehyun’s head looks exceedingly happy. the dots aren’t connecting. sungho is malfunctioning. 

“should…should we interfere…?” leehan asks, his nose barely peeking out of the trench coat collar.

“i think...i think we should just leave them alone.”

“but isn’t his life in danger?”

“i misunderstood.”

forget misunderstanding. sungho can’t even behind to understand in the first place and has settled that he wouldn’t even try so long as myung jaehyun is happy— happy with being on the receiving end of fuck you’s and go to hell’s in response to his you’re so pretty’s and see you tomorrow’s, happy with getting his advances swatted away and shut down, happy with whatever the fuck is going on between you and him that sungho really can’t just wrap his head around.

IT’S NOT WORTH TRYING TO LEARN OTHER PEOPLE’S LOVE LANGUAGES. © hannie-dul-set, 2024.

[rosenclaws]

Hi!! I’d love to see you do the prompt “Don’t tell me you love me unless you mean it.” with Logan! Was thinking of the reader who’s so self loathing of her own powers opening up for the first time towards Logan 🥺

warnings: angst/fluff, Logan has interesting teaching methods lol

600 follower drabble masterlist

wc: 1.2k

a/n: So this also...turned into more than a drabble oops. I got carried away I can't help it asdflk;h. Anyways I totally got inspired by ATLA for some of the logan pep talk if u can tell lol.

The mansion was so lonely. It shouldn't be but it is. Especially for you. Brought here as a child you grew up here. You were excited, hopeful that maybe you could start a new life here. But then your powers went haywire.

Just when you thought things could be different your emotions got the better of you. Fire raged through the mansion and you couldn't stop it. The more you panicked the worst it got.

When the flames were put out all you could see was the destruction that ravaged the once spotless mansion. It was an accident. Charles knew it and so did everyone else but that didn't stop the whispers, the fear. You never wanted this.

You did all you could to suppress your powers for years. Leaving the school and never looking back. Years passed and you managed to live a quite life. You went to work and went home. It was a lonely life but you couldn't hurt anyone so it you learned to live it.

Then one day you got a letter from Charles. It was a matter of such importance that you had no choice but to return. It was weird being back.

It was in the dead of the night that you found yourself alone. Just as you remembered. This time wandering through the halls of the mansion. Your fingers traced the familiar paintings and furniture. A frown coming over your face as you trace the faint scorch marks that still remain.

"So those were you." A deep voice startles you.

You feel a light flame escape your fingertips as you shove you cross your arms and hide your hands away. There stands Logan with a cigar in his mouth. You breathe a sigh of relief as you lower your arms.

"Sorry, didn't meant to scare you." He holds out his cigar and you roll your eyes. He's been trying to get you to use your powers, to light his damn cigars because he's too lazy to reach into his own pocket.

"Come on, just a little flame." He says with a smirk.

"Can I help you Logan?" Though you're glaring he can see that small smile.

You and Logan were unlikely friends as you put it. The two of you understood each other. Understood the want to hide away. Don't get close and you won't get hurt. Even with that mantra somehow you were each others exception.

Maybe it was stupid but having Logan was nice. He was nice in his own weird way. Looked out for you, joked with you on the rare occasion. Plus he was easy on the eyes, but you don't let yourself go there. Love...it's just not meant for you. You don't do love and neither does Logan. Even if you want it, even if sometimes he finds his way into your dreams.

"Nope." He gestures for you to follow him so you do. Walking quietly through the halls until he leads you outside. A chill washes over you step outside.

"Just a little light for me sweetheart?" Okay the first time was charming but now it's getting annoying.

"Will you quit it." You snap. Logan raises an eyebrow and you sigh. Sitting down on a bench and looking down at your hands.

"You know I don't use my powers anymore."

"I know."

"So why do you keep asking?" He shrugs and sits down next to you.

"Because, I think you're being ridiculous."

"Excuse me?" You scoff. You clench your fists as you glare at Logan.

"So what you burned some wood big deal. That really all it takes for you to run?"

You're hurt and confused where the hell this is coming from. You thought he'd understand you but clearly you were wrong.

"You know what Logan fuck you." You hiss as you stand up.

Logan grabs your wrist before you can walk away and in a fit of anger you push him away. Flames coming out of your hand and hitting him square in the chest. You gasp as his flannel catches fire. Without thinking you press your hand and kill the flame.

"Logan I-"

"Stop." He grabs your wrist and points to an empty fire pit.

"Light it."

"Logan I can't."

"Yes you can sweetheart," He tilts your head towards him. Looking at you with a sparkle in his eye.

"Trust yourself." You take a deep breath and send a fireball into the pit, lighting it up.

Your hand tingles as you use your powers for the first time in a long time. You wait for the other shoe to drop. For the fire to rage past what it's meant to be but it never does. Slowly you hold your hand out focus, the fire slowly gets smaller until it's snuffed out. You stare at your hand in awe. Control. You had control.

"Fire is destruction." Logan interlaces your fingers with his. He's got this smile that you've never really seen before.

"But it's also life, it's beautiful. You're beautiful." You bite your lip as he squeezes your hand. There's a fear that you'll burn him without thinking but he heals. You can't hurt him.

"Why are you helping me?" Why does he care this much? He didn't have to do this, you're not a student and yet here he is. Pushing you past your worries.

"I..." Logan tries to find the words. You're right he doesn't do this but he did for you because, well because..."I love you sweetheart."

Your eyes cloud with tears as you take in his words. He doesn't mean it can he? I mean, it's does he understand what that means. What it means to love you.

“Don’t tell me you love me unless you mean it. Please." You don't think you could handle it. He's already got your heart and it won't take much to crush it.

"Are you doubting me? I'm over a hundred years old I know what love feels like." Logan brushes your lips with his thumb, he's not great with words but he knows what he feels. No one can tell him any different.

Your eyes flutter shut as he kisses you. He smells like cigar smoke and he tastes like honey. The kiss a little rough, you can tell he's trying to hold back. To be gentle which he's not always great at. You pout when he breaks the kiss, already wanting more.

"Later." He promises after noticing the look on your face.

You walk back through the mansion hand in hand. It's better at this hour, no prying eyes and whispers. For now it's just you and him. Though something does cross your mind as you reach your room.

"Did you...Were you trying to make me mad on purpose?" He smirks and pulls out another cigar from somewhere.

"It worked didn't it?" Unbelievable.

"You're an idiot Logan, what if I couldn't control it? What if I burned down the mansion, again?!" Logan rolls his eyes and kisses you again. Pushing you against the door. Your thoughts turn to mush as he kisses your neck.

"You aren't the monster you think you are." He whispers and you freeze. His words hitting you like a brick. Logan knows what it's like to be a monster, a weapon. He's the monster if anything. But you? You could never be. Not in his eyes.

Before he leaves he hands you his cigar. You shake your head and laugh. Holding out your hand you produce a small flame and he lights his cigar.

"Was all this just so I could give you a light?" You ask teasingly. Logan chuckles and presses another kiss to your cheek.

"Absolutely." As much as you want to invite him in your room, you decide to wait. Rushing anything with Logan is the last thing you want. You want the time to be together. A good fire needs to grow before it becomes a roar.

"Goodnight Logan."

"Goodnight sweetheart."

Your fingers slowly unlace as he walks away. You don't want him to go, fearing that this is just a one off night. There's no way you can have control so easily but then he looks back at you. He's got this look on his face that makes you feel like everything is going to be alright and for once you believe it.

[doctorho]

thinking about viktor with a chronically ill reader. you know? we see the vision, right?

it just works.

the thing with chronic pain, illnesses, disabilities, all of that - is that you can't always see them. sometimes you can, sure, you can see the mobility aids and the not-standing-up-for-too-long and the bruising from blood draws and sometimes you can see the compression garments, the pills and inhalers and the i'm fine, i just need a moment-

but most people just don't pay attention to that. or if they do, they don't put the pieces together fast enough to figure out what's really going on under the surface. viktor does, though; he's been there, and most of the time he's way beyond hiding it. or, well, he's way beyond hiding some of it.

walking with a cane was like carrying a neon sign that said yes there is something different here. yes i can't walk the way you can. no it's not going to get better. that last part wasn't directly evident just from him using a cane, sure, but with the way his cane looked, it should've been pretty clear. He had used one practically forever and it had evolved with him, he'd made it as comfortable to use as it could be, had even made it match his uniform.

so yeah. viktor knew what it was like. he'd been the disabled kid forever, even if some of the others were never going to say it out loud. that was just a thing about him, and he knew how hard it could be to navigate something like that in an academic environment. it was hard to admit you couldn't do something, that you had to sit down, that you needed a moment. that sometimes your body was just falling apart for no particular reason and it was just another tuesday.

sometimes it was easier to sit with the pain than take medication in the middle of a meeting, knowing that someone would make a bigger deal out of it than it had to be, even if it was just raising their eyebrows meaningfully. they'd think about you differently afterwards.

he could see you push through it, and he didn't blame you, really, he did that himself, too, but - he didn't want you to hurt yourself. you hadn't been in the lab as long as he had, so he could understand you being a little cautious with how you acted and what you told people, but he didn't want you to feel like you had to put on a show for him. he was, after all, walking around with the equivalent of a light-up sign of i'm disabled, too, and he liked to think of himself as someone who wouldn't come off as judgemental about stuff like that. other stuff, sure, stupid stuff, but not that.

so when he sees you dealing with the telltale signs of being in pain, he conveniently sends jayce and the others to pick up some parts that would take a while to collect and that they wouldn't actually need until the next day. but better prepared, right? what's the harm.

and then he comes to sit next to you and sighs deeply. leans back. relaxes to the best of his abilities. asks if you're alright, and sounds like he already knows the answer.

you sigh too, shift your position, and answer with it's fine. and viktor recognizes the strain in your voice, in your posture, and he knows there's a key difference between this and i'm fine, but he'll take it. it's not what he'd like, but he'll take it.

he leans over to dig around his belongings, and then offers you a bag of candied almonds.

"if you're going to take pain killers, it's better if you eat something first," he says, and you just stare at him. "i assume you haven't taken anything yet. nothing strong enough, at least," he continues, casually, and you take a deep breath and accept the almonds.

he smiles. continues like this is totally normal. "jayce made me start carrying around some food so i could do that. for myself, i mean. but it doesn't hurt to have some snacks around either way, i suppose."

he knows he's skirting around the real topic of the conversation, but he also knows that sometimes people get uncomfortable around his bluntness, and you hadn't exactly told him you were in pain, so he'd understand it if you were a little weirded out. after all, most people didn't notice this stuff. but you haven't run away from him, and you're eating, and then you're digging around your own bag to take your medication, so he'll count this as a win.

thanks, you exhale, handing back the almonds, and he takes a handful of them himself.

"i'm fine, really," you continue, not really looking at him, "it's just hard sometimes."

he nods. it was - even if he didn't know the specifics, he knew that it was true. especially since you had been hiding it from the others. and with something like that, something the others couldn't see, the invisible step to let them see it would grow bigger and bigger with time, when they expected you to be able to do everything they did without a second thought.

he also knows you didn't mean fine in the dictionary definition sense of the word, but more in the this is normal and you don't need to worry -sense. and that's fine. he was used to functioning on different parameters than most people, so this version of fine was good enough.

my body just isn't always very reliable, you explain with a sigh, and that he knows better than well.

he hmms in answer and nods. he knows.

you exhale a small laugh at that.

and he's glad you're relaxing, wants you to be as comfortable here as possible.

"these people are alright," he says casually, "as far as healthy people go."

viktor smiles a little.

another win for him.

and then he sits with you, talking and not talking and enjoying the quiet comfort if it all. and then he makes up some excuse so you don't have to keep working yet. he was well aware what it was like trying to work through the pain, waiting for the medication to kick in, and he wouldn't exactly recommend it. besides, as a rule, you were more likely to make mistakes if you were thinking through a layer of pain, and that was just plain bad planning. it made much more sense to just take a break and continue when you felt better. in fact, he was in dire need of a caramel latte and a pastry right now, do you want anything?

and after that it just... sort of falls into place. you're more relaxed around him. and the others, too, but he's the only one that really gets it. doesn’t make a whole thing out of it when you need to sit down for a moment or take a break while your pain killers kick in. he's just there.

he knows what it's like, and that feels like an invisble curtain lifted from between you and him, and it's just easy. you don't have to pretend you're doing better than you actually are and he doesn’t hide it when he's in pain, either.

most people don't see it, but there's a mutual understanding there; yeah, sometimes life sucks and sometimes you're in pain and no it's not fair that sometimes your body is falling apart and life just keeps going. you can't do all the things you want to do but you still have to show up for the other life-stuff and if you took a day off every time you felt bad you would never get anything done and it just never stops.

but sometimes there's someone who'll sit through it with you without judgement. offer a warm drink and a snack and some understanding.

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Toto Wolff with sick!wife reader. She has lost her voice and has to communicate using gestures which Toto and Jack find it amusing. Despite their best, they still tease her. You do however you want. Thanks!! :))

It was no surprise that constant travel took its toll on your health. When you landed in Austin and felt the familiar scratch at the back of your throat, you brushed it off as a consequence of changing seasons. But when you woke up the next morning and found yourself unable to speak, the situation quickly shifted from mild discomfort to concern. Toto, ever the attentive husband, immediately sprang into action, calling everyone he could think of for medical advice. His brow furrowed with worry as he paced around your hotel room, phone in hand, while Jack, your son, sat on the edge of the bed with a grin that spoke of mischief.

“Mom, this is hilarious,” Jack said, eyes sparkling. “You should totally communicate with signs and gestures until your voice comes back.” You playfully ruffled his hair, finding it hard not to smile at his enthusiasm, despite your current predicament.

Soon, the three of you made your way to the paddock under the Texas sun, the warm rays dancing on the concrete as the familiar symphony of engines and chatter surrounded you. Jack trotted along beside you, his grin as wide as ever, while Toto held your hand protectively, glancing at you every few moments as if checking that you were still okay. “Are you feeling alright?” he mouthed, his eyebrows knitted with concern. You responded with a thumbs-up and an exaggerated nod, reassuring him that you were fine despite the loss of your voice.

Jack nudged your arm with that same cheeky smile. “Remember, Mom—big gestures so everyone can understand!” he announced, dramatically waving his arms like he was directing traffic. Toto chuckled, a hint of relief softening his features as he joined in the lightheartedness. You rolled your eyes playfully, tapping Jack’s nose with your index finger as if to say, Behave.

As you entered the paddock, familiar faces greeted you with waves and cheerful calls of “Good morning!” You waved back, responding with silent, animated gestures and a bright smile. Toto, sensing your need for an easier way to communicate, handed you a small notepad. “Looks like we’ll need this today,” he teased, smirking as Jack snatched it out of his hands with excitement.

“Oh, I’ll be in charge of writing what Mom says!” Jack declared, marker already poised. He looked up at you with a grin that promised mischief and you couldn’t help but laugh soundlessly, your shoulders shaking with mirth.

Throughout the day, Jack became your voice, scribbling out messages in his childlike scrawl, sometimes adding his own creative touches. “Mom says to stop calling the doctor, Dad,” one note read, written with a smirk and shown triumphantly to Toto. Toto raised an eyebrow and chuckled, shaking his head. “Outnumbered, I see,” he said, casting you a warm look that made your heart swell.

Jack, finding endless amusement in your silent communication, began mimicking your gestures with exaggerated flair, even getting Toto to get in on the act.

Despite their teasing, the love in their gestures kept you animated. Each shared laugh, every little mock argument over Jack’s interpretations, and Toto’s constant, caring glances reminded you that even when unexpected challenges arose, you had your boys beside you, making everything a little more bearable and infinitely more cherished.

As the day progressed and the Texas sun began to dip, casting a warm golden glow over the paddock, you felt a familiar tickle at the back of your throat. You paused for a moment, touching your neck with hope flickering in your chest. Jack noticed your hesitation and tilted his head. “What’s wrong, Mom? Do you need to write something?” He held up the notepad, ready for your next silent instruction.

Instead, you took a deep breath and whispered, “Jack.” The word was faint, raspy, but it was there.

Jack’s eyes widened as if you had just performed a magic trick. “Dad!” he shouted, leaping up and pulling Toto by the sleeve. “Mom talked! She said my name!”

Toto turned around so quickly that he nearly knocked over a chair. His eyes searched yours, filled with a mix of disbelief and joy. “Did you really?” he asked, his voice soft and hopeful.

You nodded, and with a small, careful smile, you whispered, “I did.”

Relief washed over Toto’s face, the tension he had been carrying all day melting away. He took your hands in his, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Thank goodness,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I was about to call for a specialist to fly in.”

Jack laughed, the sound high and full of energy. “See, I told you it would come back if we kept making her laugh!” He glanced at you, his eyes dancing with mischief. “Guess the signs and gestures worked, huh, Mom?”

You chuckled, the sound still scratchy but growing stronger. “I guess they did,” you replied, squeezing Jack’s hand. The three of you stood there, surrounded by the hum of the paddock and the warm glow of the setting sun. It was a simple moment, yet it held a deep sense of gratitude and love.

Toto wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Don’t scare me like that again,” he whispered.

“I’ll try not to,” you said, your voice now a soft echo of its usual tone. Jack leaned in, sandwiching himself between you and Toto with a playful grin. “But can we keep the notepad? That was fun,” he teased, holding it up with pride.

The three of you laughed, the sound filling the space and blending with the noise of the paddock. And in that moment, you realized that no matter what challenges came your way, the bond you shared as a family would always be enough to carry you through.

[duskdog]

David Cain possessing Cass and making her like him is eerily similar to how Batman seemed to view her in the beginning -- both had a very specific person they wanted Cass to be, and in both cases, it was basically just a better version of themselves. I suspect a lot of people would say "well the difference is that David was abusive to Cass" but let's be absolutely honest with ourselves: Batman was, too. It wasn't exactly in the same way as David, and Cass was older and had more autonomy, and Cass herself enabled the behavior somewhat (but let's remember Cass was also still a minor, and had been raised in an abusive way that would have taught her that being treated this way was normal for her at least), but Batman absolutely dehumanized Cass in a way similar to her father because he didn't see her as a person in her own right, but as a perfect extension of himself and his ideals. He actively encouraged her to have no life or identity of her own outside of Batgirl. He deliberately cut her off from her best friend (one of very few friends that she has, total), at least partially because he couldn't bear the thought of anything influencing her away from his idea of perfection. When she's in emotional turmoil over someone dying on her watch, all he cares about is how much of a failure she is for it (something Cass is particularly sensitive about), and he repeatedly stresses the need for absolute perfection. I don't think we can or should ignore how emotionally damaging this is for someone who already loathes themselves for their one "mistake" and who views themselves as nothing more than a weapon. When he sees the tapes of her murdering someone, he twists himself into pretzels to believe that the tape is fake -- not because the concept of a child killing someone is repulsive, but because the concept of Cass killing someone is repulsive. Why is the concept of Cass killing someone repulsive to him? Because it makes her unlike him. And because if he has to accept that it's true, he knows he might not be able to forgive her for that. Nevermind that she was a horrifically-abused very young child who had no way of understanding what she was really doing. Batman doesn't give a shit about any of that, or how Cass herself feels about it -- he only cares about whether or not she's who he wants her to be. Is it any wonder that Cass took to him so quickly, particularly after being alone for so long? She saw someone who was like her, true, and who gave her violence purpose... but he was also someone who objectified her in the same way that David Cain had, and that, to her, was love.

I think it's an interesting comparison that for all David's faults, the one thing Cass never doubted for a second was that he loved her. Her two biological parents are an abusive monster who wants to possess her and make her like him but who always made her feel loved, and Shiva who in her own way wants to help Cass and build her into the best version of herself she can be... but would never for as long as either of them will live tell her "I love you."

[twinkling-moonlillie]

Hello! I saw your post saying that you accept requests and mostly for Hawks rn. As u can tell from my username I LOVE this man, so I was thinking if you can write something about the reader using the Safeword during the act with him? Maybe he hurt her without meaning to? And it turns all fluffy with aftercare! You can ignore this if you want and I honestly don't even know if Im writing this in the right place or not it's my first time sorryyy 😭

Aftercare - Hawks x reader drabble

Author's note: Sorry this took so long haha, been busy with life. But!! I loved this idea! I love writing fluffy and doting Keigo. ALSO, here is my link if you want to support me financially <3 It's totally not necessary but money is super tight right now and I desperately need to get out of my household :|

Warnings: Mentions of sex (PIV), slight cursing, mdni. Reader is afab. Not thoroughly proofread

Sex with Keigo was always amazing, extraordinary even. You were lucky that you landed a partner as dutifully devoted to you and your pleasure as Keigo. Instead of giving yourself to some selfish prick whose love was dependent on how well you sucked their dick and how readily you were to spread your legs, you freely let Keigo’s soft touch, warm smiles, and protectiveness melt your heart. 

He often spent nights in between your thighs without so much as taking off his work pants, without expecting anything in return. His lips and fingers worked orgasm after orgasm from you. Your hands gently intertwine with his as he drags his thick cock against your sensitive walls, whispering murmurs of praise, light teasing, and - most importantly - consent checks. Keigo mentioned more than once that your enthusiastic consent made his dick dripping wet with precum. 

All of these facts did not aid the cognitive dissonance in your mind though  as he mercilessly pounded into you, his breath hitching every time he bottomed out; it was so rough it hurt, body haphazardly molded into whatever shape he pleased. The breeding season always heightened his sex drive. He needed this. What kind of partner would you be if you put your own needs in front of his own? 

So you did your best to take the ruthless pounding. Tears dripped down your cheeks. The taste of blood filling your senses as you bite your lip. 

“F-fuck, such a good slut for me, hm?” He rasps. “Gonna fuck you ‘til you’re pregnant.”

Deep breath. 

You could do this

Another deep breath.

You could do this.

And…

You…really can’t do this. 

“K-kei s-stop, ‘s too much …” your voice was too weak and breathy for your liking. “H-hawks”

Keigo’s hips jutted to a stop, half of himself inside you, eyebrows furrowed in concern. Earlier in your relationship, both of you decided on his hero name as a safe word. There was a strict detachment between Keigo’s hero work and normal life, so much so that he detested being called Hawks in your shared home. 

It took another moment for him to understand what happened, the lust fogging his mind pattering away. “Shit, baby…” he slowly pulled the rest of himself out of your spent hole, your body flinching. “Songbird, are you okay?”

As much as you tried to speak, your tongue was like lead, throat filled with cotton. Your sobs sounded more akin to choked babbles. The tears dripping down your face was more than enough though to clue Keigo in. 

“M’sorry” You managed. “S-so sorry, I-i know ‘s your rut but-“

Keigo cut you off with a gentle kiss, his feathers swiftly taking over all your senses as he rolled you into his warm arms. “You did so good for me, love. You don’t need to be sorry. Doesn’t matter if I’m in rut or not,” he pressed another light kiss on the crown of your forehead, “your safety and happiness is top priority.” 

“I wanted to do good for you” you mumbled. “You always take care of me…just wanted to do the same…”

“And you did, songbird.” He titled your chin so he can gaze into you directly. His eyes were always sharp like daggers, but when you stared at him all you saw was his adoration. “I promise it’s not even a big deal. I don’t want you thinking that just because it’s breeding season that I can do whatever I want to you.” 

Keigo’s thumb worked to wipe away the remnants of your tears, cooing praise until the saturation made you giggle. Gentle kisses were frequently exchanged. He failed to mention how this time of the year made him extra doteful. 

“Here, let’s run you a bath, yeah? I’ll start it and fetch you some water, okay baby? You just stay there and be pretty for me, let me take care of you.”

[levandright]

WHAT THE HEART WANTS ★ K.SN & Y.JW | TEASER

synopsis. you love your best friend, kim sunoo. but scared of confessing and possibly losing your precious friendship, you'd rather let these feelings left unsaid and buried in your heart. so, what do you do if a popular underclassman confesses to you on valentine's day?

pairings : bsf! sunoo x f!reader, jungwon x f!reader ♦ content / warning(s) : unrequited love, yn is scared to confess, yn has a hard time choosing, fluff, jungwon is a sweetheart ♦ est word count : 4-6k ᐢ..ᐢ lev notes : hopefully i can post the first part in a week or two, this is based a lot from my experiences but happier(bcs of the poll) i estimate there will be 3 parts in total for this because of reasons i cannot spoil for now ^-^

of all the secrets you hold close, the feelings you have for sunoo are by far the heaviest. they live in the quiet spaces between you: in every smile he gives you, in every joke you share, in the warmth of every comforting hug, and in the countless secrets you’ve entrusted to each other. he knows so much about you, maybe even more than anyone else. but there’s one truth you’ve never told him, one that sits like a stone in your heart, heavier than all the others.

truth is, sunoo is more than just a friend. somewhere along the way, he became your safe place, your first call in moments of joy and the one person you seek in times of pain. he’s become the one person you feel you can tell anything to—anything, that is except how much he truly means to you. and no matter how many times you imagine confessing, a familiar fear always rises up, wrapping around you like creeping vines: what if he doesn’t feel the same? what if telling him shatters this beautiful, fragile bond you share?

so you make a decision. you decide not to tell him. instead, you resolve to stay silent, to hide your feelings and let them fade on their own, like colors slowly washing out in the sun. you tell yourself that it’s better this way, better to preserve the friendship you cherish than risk losing him altogether.

it’s harder than you imagined. every day with him feels like a test of your willpower, a delicate dance of pushing down what your heart keeps trying to whisper. you start training yourself to see him as just a friend, catching yourself whenever your thoughts drift too far. when he laughs at one of his own jokes, that contagious laugh lighting up his face, you remind yourself that he’s just sunoo, your best friend. when he smiles that bright, heart-stopping smile of his, you train yourself to look away, to ground yourself in the friendship you already have.

there are moments when the urge to reach out and just say everything rises up so suddenly it almost takes your breath away. but each time, you swallow it back, promising yourself that this silence is worth it, that keeping the friendship untouched by unspoken confessions is worth the cost of unexpressed love.

days turn into weeks, and then into months. slowly, it gets a little easier. you start focusing on other things—leaning into hobbies you’d neglected, spending more time with other friends, and setting new goals for yourself. the ache in your heart begins to dull, like a bruise fading with time. you find yourself thinking less about every text he sends, letting go of the habit of analyzing every word, every emoji. the butterflies that once took flight at the smallest hint of his affection start to quiet down, becoming memories of something you’re learning to let go of.

then one day, it happens. the two of you are sitting together, laughing over some ridiculous story he’s telling, and you realize with a sudden, quiet clarity that you’re no longer waiting for something to happen between you. the pang you used to feel when you looked at him—that longing for something more—feels almost absent, replaced by something softer, more comfortable. and just like that, you understand: maybe, just maybe, you’re finally moving on.

the realization fills you with a bittersweet sense of relief. there’s freedom in it, a lightness that settles over you as you realize you can finally be by his side as just a friend, without the constant weight of unspoken feelings pressing down on you. you’re proud of yourself, too. proud of the strength it took to let go of what could never be, to find peace in what you already have instead of yearning for something more.

as days pass, you find yourself enjoying this new stage in your friendship. without the burden of your secret feelings, every moment you spend together feels lighter, easier. you laugh freely, knowing there’s no longer an unspoken confession lurking in the back of your mind. the quiet ache that once colored every shared joke, every smile, is gone—or at least, you tell yourself it is.

and sunoo notices the change, too. one day, as you’re both walking home after a long day, he glances at you, a smile tugging at his lips.

“you seem… different lately,” he says, his voice soft but laced with curiosity.

you smile back, hoping he doesn’t notice the slight blush on your cheeks. “different? how?”

he tilts his head, squinting at you thoughtfully. “i don’t know. happier, i guess? like something’s changed.”

you laugh, brushing it off with a casual shrug. “maybe i just finally figured some things out.”

and it’s true. you feel lighter now, free from the weight of what-ifs and unspoken desires. for so long, you had convinced yourself that sunoo was the only one who could fill that place in your heart, that loving him was something you had no control over. but now, you understand that love doesn’t always need to be confessed, that sometimes, the strongest kind of love is the one that allows you to let go, to find happiness in simply being close.

yet, even as you convince yourself that you’ve moved on, there are quiet moments that betray you. sometimes, when he throws his arm around you casually, or when he looks at you in that way that’s both familiar and fond, you feel a faint flutter, like an old feeling waiting to resurface. it’s a quiet, buried warmth, something you’re not sure you’ll ever truly get rid of. but you keep it hidden, folded away in a place you don’t have to look at too often. you’ve buried it well, but it’s still there, waiting.

for now, you’re content to keep that love hidden, unspoken and safe. you tell yourself it’s okay. the soft warmth in your chest isn’t a burden anymore—it’s just a part of you, a gentle reminder of a love that didn’t have to be spoken to be real. you’re happy by his side, as his friend, sharing laughter and secrets and every small, precious moment in between.

so you continue on, content in the simple joys of being sunoo’s friend. and if that buried love still lingers in the quiet, unguarded moments, well, that’s something you’ve learned to live with. it’s enough, you tell yourself.

perm taglist.@honeybelleee @honeychocos @manaah02 @kozumesphone (open!)

requests. open!

©levandright

[itsjunear]

Comfort

Note: Hello, loves! I guess I disappeared again 😭 I'm sorry, there's been a lot going on these past few weeks, and I wasn’t feeling very well. This is my way of making it up to you ❤❤ I'm still working on the second part of "Shadows and Whispers", but I got sidetracked, and something totally out of my element came out of it. I’m really sorry if this turns out to be a mess, I’ve never written anything obscene and explicit before, so feel free to tell me if it’s terrible! Remember, English isn’t my first language, so if there are any mistakes, don’t hesitate to let me know! Please take care of yourself! Love you all! 💙💙💙

P.S. I didn’t tag anyone because I wasn’t really sure if you’d want it, especially after disappearing for almost a month. Sorry 😭😭

Words: +1k

Warnings: Obscenity

Summary: Reader goes to comfort Azriel after he's returned from a mission. However, things take a turn, and somehow she finds herself in a sinful situation with the shadowsinger.

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I still didn't understand how the hell I had ended up in this situation.

Or rather, how I had ended up in this position.

My intentions in arriving at Az were completely genuine and innocent. I knew him well enough to know that he was absolutely frustrated with how the mission had ended, just as I also knew that he would try to hide his feelings because that was his way of dealing with everything.

When I arrived at the River House, I found him sitting at the foot of the bed with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands tangled in his dark hair. He was so out of it that he didn't even lift his head when he heard me enter and he didn't bother to pick up his wings either, a strong indicator of his mood.

Seeing him like this made my heart ache, and the urge to comfort him took hold of me, so I didn't even think when my feet carried me directly in front of him. Somehow, I sneaked my hand in and gently placed it on his cheek, forcing him to look up. His shadows were scattered and restless.

I wasn't ready for what I found in his hazel eyes: loneliness and resignation. He didn't even try to hide it from me, and that was what scared me the most. I was prepared to face the big wall he put up when something emotional was involved, but I wasn't ready for the honest vulnerability that hit me like a blow to the cheek.

"Aziel..." I let out with a shaky sigh.

He shook his head and for a second my body went rigid as I felt his arms wrap tightly around my waist and rest his head on my stomach. I reacted and instinctively placed one hand on his back, in the middle of his wings, and the other in his hair, scraping gently with my nails. In response, a shiver ran through him, and I stopped my movements abruptly.

"No" It was the first thing I heard him say since I had entered "Please... Just... continue."

I nodded even though I knew he wasn't looking at me and resumed my movements. He relaxed against me and settled his head higher, right between my breasts. HIS shadows calmed down then, and limited themselves to passing through us occasionally.

"Az..." I tried again.

“Y/n…” he interrupted me, pressing himself tighter against my body. "I need this right now. Just... tell me to stop if you don't want it."

I didn't stop him, and he decided to explore a little more, brushing his nose against the edge of my breasts, making me shiver. One of his hands that was on my waist went down to my ass and squeezed hard, but at the same time slowly, as if he wanted to melt into my skin.

A gasp of surprise escaped my lips when I felt him place soft kisses on my breasts, near the nipples, covered only by an old shirt that was too big for me. He put it in his mouth, wetting the shirt, making my hands fly straight to his hair, tangling and pulling gently. A grunt of approval came from Azriel, and all logical thought vanished from my mind, leaving me completely blank and a prisoner of sensations.

His hands became bolder reaching for one of my perfectly fitting breasts and he squeezed, making me gasp.

"You're so beautiful" he said breathily and pulled my shirt up over my head.

My breasts were exposed, and directly at the height of his lips, so he did not hesitate to put them in his mouth. I just arched my back, delighted in the way he made me feel even though I knew this was wrong. Az was very vulnerable right now and it was a miracle that he was showing me this side of him.

That thought hit me like a bucket of cold water and brought my feet back to earth.

"Az," I called after a moment. "We can't..." I gasped as I felt him pull my nipple between his lips. "Listen, I don't think this is a good idea..."

"I need to feel you close. I need to know that you are here with me," he pleaded in a tone of voice I had never heard before, "Making you feel good will make me feel good."

"But I don't want you to think that I'm taking advantage..."

"I need this. I need you" he interrupted me.

That took my breath away and the way he looked like I was his only lifeline made me give in, so I finally nodded.

The shadowsinger rewarded me by leaving a wet kiss on my neck before separating for a moment to unbutton his leathers and reveal all his glory. I didn't hold back and gently touched his skin, trying to convey everything I felt through those caresses, trying to tell him that I was there for him and from the way he tensed where my fingers passed, I assumed he could understand it. I even brushed the edge of one of his wings and he shivered violently, not hiding the low moan that escaped.

His hands moved down to unbutton my shorts without leaving soft kisses combined with licks on my neck. I dug my nails carefully into his back, avoiding the membranes, and he let out a hoarse moan that went deep into my bones. He slowly slid my pants down caressing my legs in the process and then helped me out of them once they hit the carpet beneath my feet.

That's how I was left in nothing but panties in front of Azriel, who was looking at me like I was the only damn person in his life that he had ever wanted. I didn't feel self-conscious under his scrutiny, on the contrary, I had the feeling that he was memorizing me.

“Y/n” he ​​called with rapid breathing “You are beautiful, fucking beautiful.”

His words also had more meaning, I realized. It was the second time he had told me this tonight and somehow, he managed to warm my heart.

The shadowsinger manipulated my body to his liking, so he gave me one last open-mouthed kiss right over my heart before turning me over, leaving me on my back now. I felt him fill my spine with kisses and hook his fingers on my panties, slowly lowering them until he left a kiss on my lower back that made me shudder.

Completely naked, she took me by the waist to place me on his lap. I could feel his hardness beneath me, and he hissed when I ground my hips together.

I was sitting in the middle of his legs, until he hooked one of his hands and put one of my legs over his, so that I was wedged over it, although I still rested my back on his chest.

Then he hugged me, imprisoning me in his arms and hiding his face in my neck. His hands then went down, directly to my center, and he began to touch me with gentle movements, slow caresses on the clitoris that made me gasp. A moan escaped from the back of my throat as I felt his fingers slide into my folds and curve them deliciously.

"That's it honey, let me hear you" he whispered in my ear.

He repeated the movement, and my body went crazy when he added another finger. Everything was slow and felt completely different, it felt more intimate, fuller of feeling. His fingers worked magic inside me while he caressed my clit with his thumb. It was too much, and I figured Az could sense it because he sped up his movements.

Another moan escaped my lips as one movement pushed me over the edge and the orgasm rippled through me making me tremble, sweeping through everything. Azriel did not stop his hands, prolonging the sensation and supporting all my weight, since I had practically collapsed on top of him.

After a few seconds, he did something that left me gasping, partly from the orgasm he just gave me, and partly from the sensual sight. He took his fingers out of me, not caring in the least about the mess, and sucked on them, looking into my eyes before resting his forehead against mine.

"Az" I whispered in between a gasp.

He lunged at my lips and there are no words to describe the way he kissed me. It was messy, a combination of tongue and teeth, but it felt perfect, like once in a lifetime, everything fit together.

I walked away after a moment, to catch my breath, and he grimaced as if it physically hurt him not to be around, to which I responded by standing up and climbing up behind him, only this time who hid his face in his neck. It was me, absolutely enjoying the skin-to-skin contact and the way he held me close to his bare chest and mine.

Az didn't care about the mess I was probably making on his leathers still wearing my fluids. He didn't seem interested in any of that.

"Thank you for staying," he said after a moment, wrapping his wings around us.

"You have nothing to thank me for," I responded, taking his face in my hands. "How are you feeling?"

"Good, now that you're here." He responded and for emphasis, one of his shadows caressed my arm with a cold touch, making me smile.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked as I ran a finger over the membrane of his wing again.

A shudder consumed him along with a gasp and he rested his head on my shoulder.

"Not yet"

I nodded and wrapped my arms around his neck. Trying to give him comfort beyond words and show him that she was here with him. Not anywhere else.

[cas-readsandwrites]

Lavender: Interludes

Set in Jackson post TLOU S1 in the Lavender universe by @justagalwhowrites, a few little scenes of Joel, Doc, and the fam in Jackson. Listen I am not pregnant, I have no desire to be pregnant, so I don't know WHERE this came from, but I love soft Joel healing from his trauma and finding love and joy in his family! Content: Reader is described as pregnant. There is smut. And fluff. And love. Grab some ice cream and your heating pads if you're in the same time of the month as me. Minors DNI. 3.6k words

I am not quiet about the fact that Lavender is one of my favorite fanfics, in my two decades popping in and out of various fandoms. Doc and Joel are my distraction and angst and comfort when I need it. Sometimes my imagination runs a little wild.... many many thanks to Kit for creating these characters and being totally cool with the fact that I wrote a little fanfic of her fanfic :D So here we go!

~~~

Joel had walked into the house late one evening, after patrol had gone long and he had to wait to give report to the next crew going out. He was extra antsy and wanted to get home, now more than ever. This was his last patrol for the next several months, as he would not need to leave the walls of the town during the last month of your pregnancy and hopefully not for a month or two afterwards. He would be put on extra shifts on guard duty or with the carpenter crew, but as long as he was within a quick run down the street or an ear-shot of someone yelling for him with news of you, he was fine with that. 

Anyway, when he had come home, you had been standing in the middle of the living room, seemingly all the sheets and blankets from the house around you and stacked in a laundry basket at the bottom of the stairs. All of the glasses and mugs were sitting out drying on the counter, as well as the few baby bottles you had brought home from the clinic (just in case you had said, hopeful that you would be able to breastfeed). All of the lights were still on upstairs. 

“Baby,” he said, matter-of-factly, “what the hell are you doin’?”

You spun around, holding a fitted sheet in your hands, fresh from the laundry line outside. The town was encouraged to use the communal laundry whenever possible, to limit wear and tear on the machines in the houses, but understandably many families had middle-of-the-night unexpected messes or heavy loads that they would do at home if the mechanicals still worked. The dryer in their house was still inconsistent, as much as Joel took it apart and banged on it and put it back together, it gave them a few good spins before shuddering to a halt again. Thankfully Tommy and Maria’s across the street was still functional, adding to the growing list of ways that he felt like he was in… well, a commune, with his brother as their lives and households continually overlapped, something he suspected would only increase after the baby was born.

“I think I’m nesting,” you answered back, looking around at the piles of fabric and wiggling your fingers in the sheets. “It seemed like a good idea to have all the linens clean, and then I was hand-washing some things in the kitchen, so it seemed like a good idea to clean off some of the dishes and things we haven’t really used, they were kind of dusty and I didn’t want it getting in the bottles…” you trailed off and sighed. “Ok, it looks ridiculous, but trust me, it needed to be done!” 

Joel wasn’t about to fight you on that, as much as he worried about your health and safety in what he viewed as an extra-fragile state, it seemed like you had come even more alive with an extra vivacity throughout your pregnancy. Even when you were throwing up, or cranky with hormones, you were even more feisty. Which was saying something, considering all the times you had verbally sparred back in Boston, along the road to Jackson, even back when you were taking care of yourself and your grandmother all alone. “Ok, well… can I help you?” he asked. “Seems like you got it in hand, but please don’t tell me you’ve been carrying laundry around all day.” 

You waved your hands again, corners of the sheet scrunching around your fingers. “Ellie put up with me for a while and did the heavy lifting with the wet things. She wanted to go out for the evening, though, so it’s just been me and the folded piles tonight.” You looked around as you tucked the corners across and into each other, neatly snapping the sheet and folding the edges in. “I guess if you can take these all back up into the closet upstairs, then it will be mostly done.” 

You looked around at the folded pile in the basket, mentally cataloguing your task, before seeming to snap out of it and look back at him. “But you just got home! I’m so sorry, blame my brain for being wired towards this.” You waded through the piles and threw yourself into his arms, even with your stomach grown with his baby, still fitting in just right where he could wrap around your shoulders and your back and you could lean into that space against his chest. Joel ran his hand up and down your back, around your side, warm palm against the place where your child grew. You hummed as he kissed the top of your head, centering himself as he always did when coming home on your scent and the warm gravity of you in his arms. 

“Why don’t you go up to bed?” he murmured against your temple. “I’ll get the rest of this. You’ve been on your feet a lot. Please go lay down? I’d love to just… be with you tonight.” You nodded, tipping your head back to kiss him. He anchored himself to you, the press of your lips against his. 

“I’m glad you’re home,” you said, squeezing him again before stepping away and looking around at the living room before walking upstairs.

They had been in this house for several months, well-established in Jackson, but he couldn’t shake the nighttime routines yet, circling the first floor of the house, checking that the exits were clear, locked, lights off, locking his rifle in the downstairs closet, keeping his sidearm in the nightstand next to his side of the bed. He heard you moving around the bathroom and treading the hallway into the bedroom. Thankfully, Ellie came home not too soon after as he was finished folding. She shrugged and tilted her head with an eyebrow raised in a nonverbal I don’t know, man, it wasn’t my idea. He handed her the basket and wordlessly gestured up the stairs. She just as silently tilted her forehead against his arm as she passed in a greeting and good-night, and they trooped up the stairs together. “Good night, Ellie!” he heard you call across the hall.

He showered, washing off the road and sweat, before climbing in bed behind you, already nested in your structure of pillows. “Mmmf,” you murmured, nestling back into his chest. He traced the line of the back of your neck with one hand and looped his arm around your front, resting on your stomach. You traced the back of his hand with your fingers in the dark. It didn’t seem to take much, even at this stage in your pregnancy, and soon you were bringing his hand below the slope of your stomach to that place between your legs that seemed so much more sensitive nowadays. 

“Baby,” he murmured in your ear, “you gonna be ok? Don’t want to hurt you…”

You moaned quietly as his fingertips traced your clit, leading down to your center, tracing your entrance and just dipping inside. You gasped and tilted your hips, moving your leg to open that space for him. “Please, Joel,” you breathed, trying to be quiet, mindful of Ellie down the hall. “I trust you, I know you won’t hurt me, I want to feel you, please…”

He kissed the space below your ear, the scratch of his beard tickling the back of your shoulder. “Don’t gotta beg for me, sweetheart, always gonna give you what you need.”

Urged by your own hand, he felt the wetness from your entrance already, dipping his fingers in to coat them, coming back to your clit, warm and aching. It didn’t take long for the pressure from his fingers, alternating between circling and lightly pressing on your sensitive areas, before he felt you throbbing, heard your tiny gasps as you tugged on the corner of your pillow, thrusting your hips back into his as he brought you to your edge. Even after months of your reassurance that you knew he wouldn’t hurt you, had never done so, and you still obviously wanted him, he waited for your cues. He tried to ignore his hardening cock, but your thrust backwards had nestled him into the soft flesh of your ass, so warm and delightfully more from pregnancy, and he couldn't help as he rocked against you. Even as you came down, you pushed his hand back towards your center, hitching your top leg up to rest on his, reaching behind for his hip, holding him close.

He ran his hand down your leg, gripping your thigh against him as he moved to push himself against you, the heat and wetness from your center drawing him in. He lined the tip of him with your center, your body grasping to pull him in, as if promises over decades and the proof of your love growing inside you weren’t enough. He stopped only long enough to ask, “this ok, baby? You feel alright?” 

You whimpered, tilting your head back towards him, and he ran his nose along what he could reach of your jaw, kissing the side of your neck, breathing against the edge of your ear. “Feels so good, please, don’t stop,” you whispered, rocking just so the tip of him slid in. He closed his eyes, focusing on the feel of you around him, pressed against him, as he slid inside you from behind. You bit your lip to stop from crying out, rocking back into him with abandon. He had to focus to stop from coming immediately - how could he not, the softness of the most round, plush parts of you pressed against his body and in his hands, your warmth even more enveloping. He focused instead on the lines of your body, kissing your shoulder, gripping your hip as he thrust in and out, syncing with the rocking of your hips. His hand slipped around your front to the top of your legs again, circling and rubbing against your clit. You were so lost in your pleasure, grasping at the blanket in front of you, and he wanted this to last as long as you needed. Unable to see your face or kiss you, giving himself into your body wherever you would take him, he used his words instead, punctuated by his own groans and pleasure. Words of praise and promise, your beauty, the sensation of your body, goddess that you were, holding both himself and your child together deep inside yourself. 

-finally, “oh, fuck, there you go baby, I can feel you, so ready, come on-” and you turned your face down into your pillow, breathing heavily, as your body fairly shook with your orgasm, clenching and rippling around him, and he held on tight and rode it out with you, thrusting up once, twice, one more time until he felt himself come apart deeply and at home in your body. 

The two of you lay together in the tangle of blankets and blankets, now kicked down around your legs and askew around you, his chest heaving with deep breaths against yours. He felt you melt into the mattress. After a moment he checked himself, not wanting you to need to move, and cautiously lifted an arm to brace himself against the mattress. You made a little noise and tilted your head back against him again. He reach in front of you and sat partway up, leaning over you to kiss you at an angle, reassuring you, and himself that you were still alright, that he hadn’t hurt you or pushed you too much in some way that he would have no way of knowing about, his memories of the only other pregnant woman in his life so far distant and embroiled in its own tinge of sadness and self-doubt that none of it was to be trusted. Only you, here, your daughter for all intents and purposes down the hall, the solidity of this house, was what he could count on. 

He kissed you again and nuzzled against your forehead. “Lay down, baby, I got you. Need anything?” he felt you shake your head and settled against your pillow. He smiled. You often had a hard time falling asleep and staying asleep as you advanced in your pregnancy, but something about the release of sex would turn you into goo and put you to sleep afterwards almost right away. 

He carefully sat all the way up, leaning over you to reset your pillows where you liked them, against the pressure of your knees, hips and belly supported against the mattress, under your arm, one against the small of your back. When you were tucked in and covered, he quietly stepped down the hall to fill your glass of water and set it down next to you, checking again the lights outside and the door to Ellie’s room, before sliding carefully back in behind you. Not able to get as close through your fortress of pillows, he rested an arm along your hip, breathing in the scent of your hair that always seemed to end up draped across his pillow.

He heard you sigh and shuffle, and was about to ask what else you needed, before you spoke quietly, through the cloud of sleep he knew was almost ready to carry you off. “I love you,” you murmured into the soft darkness of the bedroom. He leaned his head forward, resting his forehead on the space between your shoulderblades, just behind your heart. “Love you so much, baby,” he whispered, squeezing your hip, before sleep claimed you both. 

~~~

Joel and Tommy watched as you and Maria talked in the living room of Tommy and Maria’s house after dinner, while they stood in the doorway of the kitchen drinking whiskey, judiciously keeping the scent of alcohol away from your pregnant self and Maria’s breastfeeding. Well, Tommy was watching Joel as Joel watched you shuffle on the couch, gently positioning yourself to rest your lower back. “She doin’ ok?” Tommy asked, trying to catch Joel’s eye. 

Joel glanced over at his brother like he was unaware they were even in a conversation together. “Oh- yeah. She said her legs and back are starting to get real tired. Tried telling her to rest more, but you know her, says moving is actually better and she doesn’t want to leave the clinic yet.”

Tommy nodded, knowing this brand of his sister-in-law’s stubbornness and resilient streak. “You ever try doin’ the thing where you stand behind her and lift up her stomach?”

Now Joel was really looking at his brother. “What?” he asked. They didn’t really… talk girls. Joel did his best when Tommy was growing up to have The Talk (that went pretty well, living embodiment of the consequences of Joel’s actions usually screaming in her high chair in the background of those conversations when Tommy would be headed out the door to pick up yet another date) as well as trying to make sure his brother was generally a respectful and polite person to a partner, but other than that, they didn’t really talk about the ins and outs of each other’s relationships. Until you. Even way back when, yours and Joel’s relationship had been more real, more recognized, tangible, than most other things in his life.

“Yeah,” Tommy said, “you know, like you’re gonna hug her from behind or somethin?” He demonstrated in the air in front of him. “Get your arms around her and under her stomach, towards the bottom, where Maria always said was the most sore because it was heavy, stretching out some muscles, and just-” he linked his fingers together, glass carefully balanced in one bear-paw of a hand- “hup.” He demonstrated gently lifting a beach ball in front of him.

Joel watched his brother looking like he was trying to hula hoop in the middle of his kitchen. “Sure it doesn’t hurt her?” Tommy laughed and patted his brother on his arm. “Be gentle, man. Naw, Maria loved it. Would have walked around behind her for the whole last month for her if I could’ve.” Joel nodded, regretting already the time he missed in his brother’s life, refusing to accept his new marriage to Maria, blocking out the thoughts of his brother becoming a father, when all his brother had done for him was to step into Joel’s own life and take on Joel’s burdens as his own. By the time Joel and his girls had made it back to Jackson, several months had passed and Maria had already given birth. 

Tommy patted his arm again. “She knows you’d do anything for her. Maria and I will, too. Need a babysitter or an extra hand when it’s time, just holler.” He gestured with his glass towards their window that overlooked the street, across which your home with Joel was softly illuminated by the front door light, waiting for you to come home. You caught Tommy’s movement out of the corner of your eye, looking up and smiling at your husband and your brother-in-law together again, as they should be.

The next day, you were walking slowly around the house while getting ready for a shift at the clinic. You were still the only doctor in town, though they had gained a few additional staff that, while not quite trained as well as you’d hoped nurses would be, were improving as medical assistants and able to triage and take histories and help with physical exams. One of the more senior nurses who had been in town for a while had taken on the heavier medical work before you had arrived. She had taken to your education and you had recently “graduated” her from your unofficial training and dubbed her a nurse practitioner, only needing to sign off with you on certain types of cases. The extra help meant that at least you could sit more and slow your pace to see a few less patients, but for now you said your brain and your energy were fine, and you weren’t going to let a few bodyaches get in the way of being present for the people who needed the knowledge that only you had. 

Joel watched as you stood in front of your dresser, choosing which top to go over your precious few pairs of pants they had found to be modified with a maternity band. You sighed and rested your hands on the small of your back, leaning just so, trying to stretch - well, everything. 

Joel begrudgingly remembered his brother’s words, knowing he was going to be eating shit for a while, Tommy being more of an expert in the “pregnancy and infancy caregiver in the apocalypse” duties. Joel still had him beat in the teenager department at least. For now, though, he walked up behind you to kiss your temple, slipping his arms around you as he often did to trace the contours of your body, holding your hips or placing a palm to feel the baby.

“Wish you would call it at the clinic, baby, I really do,” he murmured. 

“I know,” you sighed, “not yet, though. My mind feels fine. I’m taking it as easy as I can there, I promise, and you know I’m in the right place if I need anything.” You looked down at his hands gently circling your stomach. “I know by now it’s useless to ask you to not worry, but please, take it easy on yourself, too,” you said, placing your hand on his.

Joel wanted to bury his face in your hair, carry you to bed, hold on to you and rub your feet and bring you tea for the next four weeks. He didn’t deserve you, mindful as you were towards his worries and the health of the entire town. “You’re askin’ for the impossible, babe, you know that.” 

You laughed lightly. “I know. I can try. At least I didn’t leverage doctor’s orders this time.” You tilted your head back, resting on his chest. “I’ll take a few more days, keep making some plans with the staff, and see how I feel later this week. ‘kay?”

“ ‘kay,” he echoed. You moved to step forward and reach for a dresser drawer again, but Joel followed and gently tugged you back against him. You opened your mouth to softly protest - you did need to get moving, after all - but Joel slid his hands firmly under your stomach, warm and sturdy, and without even realizing what was happening, you felt the pressure in his hands increase and a blessed lightness spread across the top of your hips and your pelvic muscles. 

Joel leaned back just slightly, the weight of your belly in his hands, and he heard you make a noise he had never even heard you make in bed. “Oh God,” you groaned, drawing it out in a soft sigh. “I didn't even realize how much that- please don't move, I just want to stay-” you let your arms drop, thoughts of a shirt vanishing as you let yourself be cradled in this temporary, bodily gravity defying relief. 

Joel wanted to chuckle at your words, but the deep instinct to simultaneously protect you while bringing you so close, around him, be inside you, kicked up again. He could only rest his forehead on the crown of your head, remind himself that you were here and whole and healthy, and marvel at your innate strength and abundant spirit to allow your body to be changed for him and for your family. He would always strive to be worthy of you, he knew that now. For now, that meant standing quietly in your home together, swaying gently, holding you and your child, your whole universe in his hands.

[scourgeofmyownbrain]

More "Bumblebee and Optimus meeting as ✨Adults✨ but still being Father and Son" stuff I came up with, plus extra because I can't get these chuckle-fucks out of my head.

Link to my prev. post for context. incase yall missed it bc I'm not explaining myself, we're just diving right into the deep end

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bee knows Optimus isn't one for physical affection, and he fully understands and accepts that. He doesn't want to make Optimus uncomfortable by disrespecting one of his boundaries, that's just a shit thing to do. And Bumblebee is not a shit person. But... he's also desperate. Look, being deprived of physical parental affection your whole life fucks you up something good, let Bumblebee tell you, it makes you do some odd shit just to get a taste of what you've been missing out on. And! And most of the stuff Bumblebee has done are perfectly normal things to do! Plenty of casual stuff, leaning against his chair to look at what Optimus is working on, high fives and fist bumps (Optimus rarely, if ever, does these but for Bee he'll do anything just to make him smile, see Optimus acting totally normal about his feelings what are you talking about), leaning against him for a second when he's tired, totally normal! There are, less normal things, like when one of Bee's legs nearly got torn off on a mission and Optimus had to carry him back to base and Bee curled up close in Optimus's arms the whole time- because of the pain, totally 100% definitely only the pain that was Not mostly taken care of by some field anesthetics. It felt nice to be carried like a kid, sue him.

Getting injured is a special case with giving and taking affection. For example, when Bumblebee had to drag Optimus to a med bay after he passed out from a mission. They were walking into the common room together; Optimus was telling Bee he was fine when he CLEARLY wasn't because he didn't want to wake the medics for something as Trivial as THEIR LEADER and FREIND'S HEALTH (Bee is this close to strangling him) when Optimus just pitched over onto the floor.

Optimus, clearly tried and hurt: I will be fine, there is no need to wake the medics, I just need some energ... *faceplants*

Bumblebee: What did I say? What did fragging I say?! *Hefts Optimus's limp body onto his shoulders* fragging, stupid, slagging, moron, 'I don't need a medic, I'll be fine' he says, if I had been the one doing this, you would have torn the base apart getting the medics up, fragging idiot. *drags Optimus's body out of the room*

Optimus: *Mumbles something about not wanting to bother anyone*

Bumblebee: Too fragging bad, big man, you are going to take care of yourself and you're going to like it!

So now Bee has to drag a bot much bigger than him back down the hall and into the Medbay, just because Optimus was being fucking stupid. Yes it looks as funny as you're thinking. Optimus is semi-conscious but delirious as they make their way down the halls of the base and says "I don't want to take anything that would be better served helping any of you, I care about all of you so much I don't want to see you hurt. I love you." and Bumblebee's like Optimus, I feel so loved and so angry right now, but fuck what you want you're getting taken care of. No, you did not just make my fucking day, I lOve yoU tOo dAd-. He gets Optimus into the medbay on a berth then goes to forcibly wake the medics up to calm himself down because he is seconds from crying.

Optimus eventually gets better with affection, and now Bee gets a hug whenever he asks. He has yet to come down from this high.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bumblebee calls Megatron his "Shit Ex-Stepfather". The entirety of team prime thinks this is hilarious. Even Optimus can't help but smile, though he tries to hide it. Someone, probably Jazz, changed Megatron's file name to "Worlds Worst Stepfather". After the war, if Megatron is still alive, he will mysteriously acquire some kind of award saying "Cybertron's #1 Worst Stepfather". He is very confused.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If you could get Optimus drunk, he would become such a sap. Like, insufferably soft and emotional. And he would be talking about Bee damn near the whole time. He would be so annoying.

Optimus: *Drunk* Did I ever tell you about Bumbl-bee? He's, he's my boy, my bumble boy, my gold'n boy, my buzzy boy, my sweet cheese. An, he's really yellow, you'll know it's him, he looks like- he's really yellow, it's hard not to see him, but he's really really good at sneaking. Even though he's so yellow. He can sneak around so good, no one sees him. I can see him, 'cause he's my boy. He can sneak around and nooo one finds him, 'cept me, 'cause he's my boy. He can hide so good, he hid under sshockwave's chest once. Riiiight under his eye, his big purple eye. Bee's so funny, he tells such funny stories. He tells his stories better then me, they're a lot funnier. I'm not good at funny stories. He's really good at it. He's really good at lots of things. Bee's so cool. I'm so happy he's here, he's so cool and funny and nice and cool. And he fights real good too, he's so cool. he once- Bee once punched my ex once, right in the face. Riiight in the kisser, just, boosh. My ex sucks, Bee's so cool. I like him, he's my boy. An-and he taught himself how to do aaaaall the cool things he does. He didn't have anyone to teach him, he did it all by himself. All alone... I wish I met him sooner, when he was small. He says he was really cute when he was small and I want to see him small. I like him big though, he's really fun when he's big. He's- *Sobs* He's my booooy, and I love him so muuuuch.

This continues for hours. Luckily he never drinks so no has to suffer through this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If you thought Optimus was the Serial Adopter, you'd be wrong. It's Bumblebee. No bot is safe from his clutches. He scoops up family members like a pelican scoops fish. Optimus is barely aware of how many family members he technically has, he stopped keeping track a long time ago.

Bumblebee: *Bursting into the room dragging some bot he was on an extended mission with* OPTIMUS, I GOT ATTACHED AGAIN YOU'VE GOT ANOTHER FAMILY MEMBER

Optimus: *Not looking up from his data pad* That's great, son, go put it with the rest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Optimus would be such a good grandparent. In the future, after the war ends, Bumblebee comes into possession of a kid; whether he finds someone and takes them under his wing or he just fucking makes one, I don't know nor care, but he gets a kid. And when he introduces them to Optimus, Optimus just fucking melts. He was already a huge softie before but he's so much worse now. He goes full grandma mode. He has snacks in his pockets (or whatever bots have) that he sneaks to the kid every time he sees them. He gives them money at random. You best believe he would destroy anything that even looked at his grandbaby wrong (Bee: Optimus, stop attacking the door. Optimus, the door just bumped them, they're fine. Dad stop, omp(rimus))

The "Bee finds a kid and both of them get attached and now are a family" is the funnier option. Because the kid knows who these guys are, they saved Cybertron. The kid's still getting used to having Bee as their guardian, so when they meet the 13th Prime: Holder of the Matrix of Leadership, Savior of Cybertron, they don't expect Dotting Grandparent Extraordinaire.

Bumblebee: and this is Optimus Prime. He's your Grandpa.

The kid : *nervous* He's my what?

Optimus: *on the verge of tears* mY grAnDbABy-

The "Bee made a kid" version is still pretty funny.

Bumblebee: *Exasperated* Optimus, give me my child back.

Optimus: *violently crying* nO, It'S mY bAbY nOW.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Imagine, if you will, Optimus and Bumblebee sitting on a roof together, not talking, not touching, just watching the sun set. Just enjoying the silence together, maybe with some energon to go with it. Because they get it, oh they get it. Sometimes you just need to be alone with someone. That good mutual respect and love from a found family that understands you. this is why I need bee to be an adult, I need both of them to be hurting and find some comfort in each other, to find solace in each other, to be a family and to be equals, is that too much to ask?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A list of things Bumblebee is allowed to get away with:

Interrupting Meetings to Tell Optimus Something, important or not (hi dad)

Casually touching the Usually Touch Adverse Optimus (Physical affection ftw)

Calling Optimus out on his self-sacrificial bullshit (you're going to see the medics and you're going to like it, old man)

Using the three points above to drag Optimus into the Medbay by force (Ratchet is so smug about this)

Getting Optimus to do something fun and relaxing (father son bonding time, as Bee says.)

Swearing aggressively (for everyone else it's unprofessional, for Bee its therapeutic. He stretches this excuse as far as it goes)

Making Insulting comments about others to their face (look they deserve it if the Perpetually Friendly Bumblebee is saying it)

Talking about Megatron (Usually team prime avoids talking about Megsy outside of war related convos out of respect for Optimus's history with him. Bumblebee does not give a shit, Megatron is a bitch and he's going to make his opinions known (Everyone thinks it's funny dw))

Illegal activities (this fucker street races in every universe, you think he isn't doing shit like this on the daily?)

Murder

Stealing/Sneaking snacks (he shares with Optimus)

Making jokes about Optimus being his dad (he thinks it's funny bc they're not related and they met like 6 years ago. Optimus explodes with emotion every time bc you consider me good enough to be your dad?)

Bee is a fucking menace, Optimus loves him so much.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Misc. funny word vomit I came up with that have no context, reason, or sense

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Optimus is working at a desk focusing on some data pads. A tiny energon cube flies into frame, bouncing off Optimus's forehead and landing on the desk. Optimus grabs the cube and eats it without looking up from the datapad. A few minutes pass, another energon cube flies and bounces off Optimus's head. He eats it without looking. Bumblebee is sitting off to the side in the room with Optimus with a bag of energon snacks, periodically throwing one at the distracted Prime. This is Bee's and Ratchet's newest scheme to get Optimus to actually eat, and it's working splendidly. (Actually, Bumblebee originally was throwing the energon onto the desk, but over time he got bored and started just throwing the cubes directly at Optimus. He hasn't noticed any of the cubes hitting him at all, so Bee's started trying to do trick shots.)

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Bumblebee?"

"Absolutely, now throw me."

"Alright... Three, two, one- Ngha!"

*distant loud metal slam*

"..."

*distantly* "I'm good! We're in business!"

*quietly* "oh thank primus..."

*distantly* "Okay, I'm done. I'm coming back down."

"Wait-"

*distantly* "Hup!"

*loud crashing metal noises*

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

It's early morning, everyone got back to base late the night before. Everyone is tired. Optimus is sitting at the table in the common room, slowly drinking a cube of energon. His eyes are half open and bleary. Bumblebee is beside him, head in his hand, dozing. Bee's head falls from his hand and slams onto the table. Optimus doesn't even blink at the noise, just takes a sip of energon.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Bumblebee takes a lot of pictures. Mostly of his team. He's pretty sneaky about it too, usually just taking a capture from his visual feed and saving it to his personal datapad. And at a glance none of the pictures are all that special, captures of a group of bots hanging out between missions, selfies of Bee and company on missions, drunken mishaps, quiet moments, he's got this really funny one of Cliffjumper stuck in a storage closet, but Bee keeps all these photos out of sight. The others are aware of his habit but they never see most of the photos, they never ask. Bee only opens his photos folder when ever he has a quiet moment alone and just scrolls through, reminiscing. His favorites are the ones where he caught someone's genuine smile. Sometimes they're in the background of a larger group shot, or it's just them smiling at Bee in conversation. He's got a lot of Optimus's smile. Optimus doesn't smile a lot, but he always seems to smile when Bee's around. Bee's proud that he can do that for him.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

this could literally be anyone on team prime: *teasing* You playing favorites, Prime? Giving Bumblebee all this special treatment is making the rest of us feeling left out.

Optimus: You all treat him the exact same way I do.

again, literally anyone on team prime: ... Touché, Boss bot, touché...

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

After spending an extended period of time in close proximity to Megatron (for what ever reason), Bumblebee and Optimus talk.

Bee: You had terrible taste in partners.

Optimus: *sighs*

Bee: Physically, I can see the appeal, but everything else is a wild thing to say yes to.

Optimus: ...

Bee: His personality, his interests- just why none of that clocked you onto how fragged up he would be is beyond me.

Optimus: ........

Bee: You're not stupid, I hope that your next partner will be leagues better than him. Ratchet maybe, oh or Elita, they would make great partners (and even better step-parents), or maybe-

Optimus: CanwePleasestoptalkingaboutmylovelife??

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Bumblebee: If you get back together with Megatron I'm disowning you.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

BB: This is... so dumb.

OP: The higher I am the better I can see.

BB: You can- You can fly.

OP: Hush now Bumblebee! I am searching...

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ idk man, brain rot hits something different when I think about it for long periods of time

[writingfromasgard]

Comfort request :)

I’m femme nonbinary (she/they) and present openly queer to everyone but my (very conservative) family.

Could you do a comfort fic with Captain Price (and possible poly!141) where reader’s family rejects them and their identity, and is comforted by Price (and the boys)?

If that’s too heavy I totally get it. Thank you for writing comfort fics for us🩷

Tags: angst, family rejection, nb!reader, alcohol mention

Given that I'm not sure about your drinking habits, I opted for non-drinker.

Price's brow arches as your drink order tumbles out of your lips nervously. A single shot of alcohol that is far too strong for you to handle. His face shifts to pensive before he leans over, arm resting on the back of your stool.

In one slick motion, he's throwing back the shot, preventing you from even tasting a drop of the poison. He sets the empty glass on the other side of him, out of your reach.

"That's not my usual, Doll."

"That was for me." Your eyes narrow on him.

"It wasn't." He says coolly, pressing his lips to your temple. " I haven't seen you drink before. I ain't letting you start unless you've got a good reason to."

Your heart feels the weight of your 'sin' bearing down on it, the echoing words of your parents as you try to explain precisely what has been digging under your skin for most of your life. Your teeth grind against each other, your eyes close tightly as you will that crushing feeling away.

"When I went home to see my family," You start, pushing harder at the swelling of sadness. "I didn't want to be forced to do what I normally do for them - bite my tongue, be polite, be who they think i am."

You don't have to glance at him to see his facial expression - blue eyes filled with understanding with a touch of contempt. He might even be clenching his teeth with his chin tucked down.

"Ghost said you had a look in your eye when he met you at the airport." He grumbles before chuckling a little. "I did think it was odd you wanted to go to a bar for our night."

That makes you feel worse from the way he says it, like he's accusing you of using your date night as an excuse to get drunk safely. And that isn't exactly incorrect.

You finally glance at him when his stool creaks, and he puts down enough to cover the shot, giving you a knowing look.

"Better idea - the dessert place down the street has this sampler you can get with tea, mini-cakes, and crepes." The way his mustache arches up with his smile makes you start to smile too. "None of it has alcohol, but Gaz yaps about how when he's having a hard day, he pops in for it."

[cosmicjoke]

Levi never Glorified Violence and Never needed to be Taught a Lesson that Violence is Wrong:

Nothing makes me want to rip my hair out more than when I see clowns saying Levi was "blinded by revenge" over wanting to kill Zeke, that he was "too violent", and that's why he got blown up by the thunderspear.

It's such a deeply, fundamentally WRONG understanding of why Levi wanted to kill Zeke, and also, of why he ended up getting blown up. I've already spoken about the strategically sound reasoning behind Levi's actions, which you can read here, if you're interested: https://www.tumblr.com/cosmicjoke/746918499422781440?source=share But to summarize, Levi hooking Zeke to the thunderspear made perfect, logical sense within the context of Zeke's own actions and behavior up to that point. Zeke was someone who until then had engaged in tactics of deception and double-crosses, who had only killed others while at a safe distance and within the cocoon of his Titan form. Decidedly the actions and behavior of a coward. Levi had no, good cause to suspect Zeke would be willing to blow himself up to also take Levi out, and so his reasoning that the thunderspear would act as insurance against Zeke escaping while Levi was preoccupied with driving the cart back to the capital was a reasonable and logical conclusion for him to make. It wasn't a decision blinded by rage or an action taken in hast. Just like it was reasonable for Zeke to assume Levi would rather die than cut down his own comrades, because he knew of Levi's compassion. Both of them underestimated each other, and both of them paid for making assumptions about the other.

But further to the point, this whole idea that Levi was being "punished" for his violence is the stupidest shit I've ever seen. Because it basically posits that Levi glorified violence, and so needed to be "taught a lesson" that violence was wrong, when he's the one character in the story who NEVER did that. He never reveled in violence, he never tried to frame it as something good or desirable, or even tried to justify it. He always spoke about and treated violence for what it was, a means to an end and nothing more. He never tried to moralize it or excuse it. He was always completely objective about it.

Compare, for example, the matter of fact way Levi explains violence and killing to Armin and Jean, versus how Zeke frames his own actions of violence. Zeke calls his murder of people a "mercy". He frames it as a positive action which results in a positive, better outcome. He has a totally warped view of killing and violence because he tries to justify it and moralize it to himself and others. He tries to frame his violence as something which makes him a hero. Levi does no such thing. He tells Jean and Armin that he doesn't know if it's right or wrong to kill, only that if Armin hadn't killed that MP, they would all be dead, and that Armin can't go back to the person he was, because he's now taken human life. He isn't justifying it, or moralizing it, he isn't trying to spin it into something positive or good, or even into something bad or wrong. He's simply stating an objective truth and then telling the 104th that they need to make their own choice about what they believe is right and wrong in any, given situation.

Or compare the way Levi approaches torturing Sannes to how Hange does. Hange goes into that situation gung-ho at the idea of torturing Sannes, because she wants revenge on him for killing Pastor Nick. She thinks she'll enjoy torturing Sannes, and attempts to enjoy it by taking it to an extreme, only to realize she's getting no satisfaction at all from her cruelty. By comparison, Levi never does or even attempts to take pleasure in the act of torture. He approaches it as a means to an end, something he has to do in order to obtain the information they need to overthrow the current government. There's no justification in his mind, no excuse he tells himself to make himself feel better about it. He already knows it's horrible and ugly. He already understands perfectly the wretched reality of violence. Again, he's the ONLY character in the story who does, from start to finish. It's why Hange is so rattled and upset after torturing Sannes, because she thought it would be fun, only to learn it was anything but. Levi never thought it would be fun, he never expected it to be, never wanted it to be, and he never tried to convince himself that it was anything better than what it actually was. It's why we see his shocked expression when Hange engages in unnecessary cruelty by ripping one of Sannes' teeth out. He's always been the most objective character when it comes to violence. He's never labored under any belief that his violence made him a hero, and he never tried to glorify violence to anyone or told them they were heroes for killing.

It's also why Yelena says to him what she does, during the final arc, and the battle at the docks. Because she knows that he knows, better than anyone, the inherent violence of the human condition and the ugly reality of it. Yelena is trying to again push her fanatical belief in Zeke's antinatalist philosophy, by pointing out that people are always going to kill and be cruel to each other, and she makes the point to Levi specifically, because she knows Levi is the only one who'd already long ago understood and accepted that truth.

So this idea that Levi is this ultra-violent, revenge-obsessed lunatic that needs to be taught that "violence is bad" is fucking moronic, and I am SICK TO DEATH of seeing people perpetuate that bullshit take. I want to tell everyone who does to just shut the fuck up already, because they're actively damaging the perception people have of Levi's character every time they spew that garbage.

[thewalrusespublicist]

Re: John and domestic abuse, and your tag: 'John as an abuser is something I don't think the fandom knows what to do with'. 

I think my big thing about why and how it's all so difficult to unpack this is that the stories predominantly stem from and around the Dakota years and that is an incredibly murky time, in terms of straight facts and reliable narrative. Most of what leaks out of there comes via blackmail or disgruntled ex employees who are then silenced with gag orders. I think only May Pang's version of events is the most clear cut, level headed. And for what it's worth, I think she describes a mutually abusive relationship between John and Yoko, which I can believe. (I also take from it that she was in an abusive relationship with John, but that’s my take and I’m not going to put words in her mouth). And I know that you link to AKOM's discussion about John's beatings and abuse of Yoko, where they read from Goldman's book, but I think it's worth saying that AKOM wrote a eleven episode series to highlight how important it is not to take Tune In at face value because of Mark Lewisohn's clear bias in favour of John, and against Paul, and how this bias can inform a narrative and therefore objective facts can become subjective statements... and then go and quote *directly* from Goldman, who plainly and nakedly despises John - even three year old John is held in utter contempt! That doesn't mean that I don't believe the stories aren't true; as you point out, John and Yoko themselves have openly discussed John's violence. But just like I can't use Lewisohn as a source, unless it’s for a specific recording date, say… I can’t use Goldman either. 

So with regards to fandom, yeah, many people don’t know how or where to put John’s violence and abusive behaviour. But that is true of *all* of the Beatles. It’s an undisputed fact that three quarters of the Beatles have been accused of, or admitted to domestic violence, yet it’s airbrushed from Paul and Ringo’s stories. Ringo will forever be a beloved king and no-one will bring up the fact that he beat his wife so hard that he believed he had killed her. And as for Paul and Heather Mills; while those allegations have a right to be strongly contested, it’s a fact (and I am old enough to remember), that Mill’s was utterly destroyed in the British press (Amber Heard has nothing on the sheer hatred that the media had for Mills), to the point that her testimony was obliterated and has been erased from any narrative to do with Paul. But Paul is a Blorbo, and no one wants to fold any negative character traits into his persona. And as for John - I’m not surprised you got it in the neck for saying that John had mental health issues - but I am surprised that it came from John stans! I got yelled at for trying to discuss John’s very likely mood disorder, but the yelling came from influential Beatle people who saw that as an ‘apology’ or defence of his behaviour (which it wasn’t). I actually think of all the arena’s of fandom, Tumblr has the healthiest approach None of them are held in reverence or as Saint’s, and they aren’t just out and out assholes either. 

t/w coercion, abuse, child abuse

Hi anon, thank you for your message and for putting forward your perspective! This is a difficult topic, and I am not an expert in these matters. However, I’m going to try and answer this the best I can and with the amount of sensitivity I think this conversation needs.

Just to start off,I totally agree with you that Tumblr is by far the best place in terms of their approach towards the Beatles and their behaviour. I think in other places like Reddit, some of the fans there are older and grew up with the ‘Saint John’ image put forward by the Lennon estate. If you have that context, the minute it’s revealed that maybe your hero wasn’t perfect, the natural response is to either deny it completely or start to demonise them. It’s not healthy or productive but it’s understandable. I also agree that the fandom does not know how to deal with the allegations of domestic abuse with all the Beatles and that is a widespread problem. In the case of Paul, I think his negative traits are acknowledged and there is good discussion about it, though equally some of these issues are played more for laughs. I’m also not the right person to do a deep dive on the flattening and cinnamon-rolling of Ringo in the fandom but I think one needs to be done. I do however want to put forward an alternative perspective on a couple of points that you mentioned.

Despite my belief that all of the Beatles probably engaged in terrible behaviour towards women (the repeated mentions of Paul’s control issues from multiple sources really concern me), what sets John apart from the others is the consistency and the severity of the allegations. With Paul and Ringo, the allegations or the incidents are, as far as we know, situated in the context of a crisis and not an established pattern. This could be wrong, but we don’t have any further information to dispute it properly (Paul’s long, adoring relationship with his first and third wives and his children suggest not in his case at least). The same can’t be said for John. You raise the point that AKOM cites Goldman and how this could be seen as hypocritical and that a lot of the information comes from the murky Dakota years. I understand where you’re coming from but I don’t think this is is 1000 percent accurate. On the AKOM point, I think this mischaracterises what the ladies were doing as they were citing direct reports from staff in Goldman’s book, not Goldman’s interpretation. As Beatles historian Erin Torkelson Weber states, Goldman was excellent in obtaining information, it’s how he construed the information that raises severe problems for his credibility. As the ladies said as well, whilst they acknowledge Goldman’s problems, the tapes with this information on are available in the archive. Still, he is a dodgy source, so the points need to be cross-referenced with other sources. In this instance, the sources are John and Yoko themselves.

It’s also true that a lot of the allegations for the Dakota years are from the disgruntled employees pack and so are harder to verify, however allegations of violence and abuse both predate this period and are corroborated later on. Whilst John Lennon fanboy of the decade Lewisohn tried to downplay it, John did hurl insults and abuse at one of his early girlfriends to try and force her to sleep with him. John did beat up a random woman in the Bob Wooler incident and barricaded Little Richard in his own dressing room whilst hurling mocking abuse at him. Further, whilst Cynthia said that John rarely hit her, John himself disputes that in Hunter Davies. Post Yoko, we have reports of continued violence from different sources like Nilsson that corroborate stories like John choking May. Mintz, who was/is doggedly loyal to Yoko, was the one to repeat the story of John purposefully humiliating Yoko at the party by loudly sleeping with a stranger. Then you have Sean and Julian’s own recollections of abuse. These aren’t one off incidents, this is a repeated pattern of documented abusive behaviour that exist throughout John’s lifetime as well as the well-worn pattern of victims trying desperately to defend his behaviour in language hauntingly familiar to most abuse victims (‘he didn’t mean it’, ‘he’s sensitive’, ‘he didn’t know what he was doing.’) In this context, it is hard to say why the disgruntled employees narratives should be seen as so outlandish.  This is what sets the conversation about John apart from the others as his pattern of abuse is inescapable and entrenched in all his close interpersonal dynamics (yes, including his relationship with Paul but that’s for another time).

I’m not saying all of this to demonise John, all of this has to be understood in the context of a man with a deeply traumatic childhood, who likely had a severe mood disorder as you said, was in what I believe was a mutually abusive relationship as you and May Pang posit, and was trying his best to improve in a time period that could not give him the support he needed. But this is a lot to ask a fandom to deal with and handle carefully so often it gets shoved down or outright ignored when it’s integral to understanding who John was and why we need to take so much care in certain discussions about him.

[kingofbodyrolls]

I know I said I wouldn’t tag you again, and I’m not—but I’m totally cheating by sharing another teaser for the story!!!! I just can’t help it, because I’m really proud of this section, and to me, it’s so fucking beautiful, and in all honesty, this paragraph (and also just this whole story) is kinda a loveletter to myself 😭 I really hope you’ll love it as much as I do! 💗

He’s quiet, thinking, eyes still glistening. “I don’t think I can,” he says softly, looking at you as though searching for permission to forgive himself. “Maybe I don’t deserve to be happy…” You reach for his hand, guiding his gaze to meet yours. “Hoseok,” you say, voice steady but warm, “we all deserve to be happy. We’ve all faced loss and scars that linger, but we don’t have to carry them like this. I’m not saying you need to forget, but…maybe you can let the pain be something else now, something softer, something that blooms instead of weighs you down.” He looks at you, brow furrowed, as though he’s trying to understand. “Like turning it into something beautiful?” he asks, his voice so low, so vulnerable. “Yes,” you nod, a small smile breaking through. “Like tending to it, like planting seeds where the pain was, and seeing what beautiful things might grow. Hold onto that pain, but let it bloom into something beautiful rather than letting it scar. Nurture it like a garden, tend to it with care, so that the memories don’t define you, but become parts of you that you can cherish, like petals of a rose you keep alive. New memories, maybe. [...].” He looks up, eyes glistening with tears, and yet you can’t help but think he looks so heartbreakingly beautiful like this—vulnerable, raw, his heart laid bare.

(and yes, I did redact a part of the teaser because it was very spoiling. You might alright have an idea of what is going on, but I don’t want to spoil the actual story, except for the fact that Hobi is broken 😭💔)

Perfect Strangers (m) | jhs | teaser

When buying a book leads to a lot more than Hoseok thought possible 🌨️ 📍 Dropping on the 9th of December 2024 [gift 2/5] ✨ 🎁 peek at your gifts under the Christmas tree [link] 🎁 peek at the spoiler [text messages] 🎁 Teaser under the cut ⬇️

You blink, taken by surprise, and a laugh escapes as you say, “I don’t even know your name,” your tone light, not saying no, but letting him know you’re curious, open to this unexpected invitation. “Ah, right—my bad,” he says, stretching his hand toward you with a shy smile. “I’m Hoseok. And you?” You take his hand, his warmth surprising you, and you giggle, “It’s Y/N,” you reply, your voice soft, the sound of your name feeling different in the warmth of his gaze. “Y/N,” he repeats, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. “Pretty name,” he murmurs, and you can’t help but feel the faintest hint of flirtation woven in his words, though there’s still a nervousness in his eyes. Then he takes a small breath and adds, “Just to clarify,” he hesitates, his voice wavering with a hint of uncertainty, “you’d be going as my girlfriend. Well, my fake girlfriend.” He chuckles nervously, almost wincing at his own words. “I mean—if you’re good with that?” The words hang in the air between you, unexpected and just a bit surreal. Fake girlfriend? You blink, caught off guard, studying his face as he scratches the back of his neck, stammering slightly, realizing, perhaps, the absurdity of it all. “I told my friends I’d be bringing my girlfriend,” he explains, his cheeks coloring, “but, well… I don’t actually have one.” There’s something so earnest, so endearingly awkward about him that you can’t help but smile. And before you know it, you hear yourself saying, “Yeah, sure. I’d love to be your fake girlfriend.” The words come easily, and even though you’ve only seen him once in your bookstore, something in his gaze feels steady, genuine. Maybe it’s a leap, but you’ve always trusted your instincts, and right now they’re telling you he’s worth it. If this brings him a little joy in the midst of whatever shadows he’s facing, you’re happy to oblige.

Want to join the series taglist? Just leave a comment that you want to be added, and you’ll be notified when the story is published 🎁