#not that this has happened as of yet. just putting it out there

[v00do-d0ll]

I want a heartbreaking fic with the trope of

"Alfred Pennyworth is Bruce Wayne's Father"

It's in Alfred's POV starting with Martha and Thomas giving birth, and Alfred being handed Bruce and thinking "I think l'd die if anything happened to him." And it goes through all the aspects of Bruce's life through Alfred's eyes, with his internal thoughts.

Him being terrified that Bruce is going to take is life after his parents death. How Bruce no longer smiles or laughs. How he's just a shell of the boy he once was.

Finding out the Bruce has disappeared without a trace or a word to Alfred. Him being scared that something has happened to Bruce, and terrified over the thought that Bruce may never come home, and heartbroken that he may never see him again.

Bruce finally coming back to Gotham and Alfred realizing that this is not the same boy who left home, but a man who has gone through more things than he could imagine. Him realizing that Bruce is taller than he is now, larger to.

Bruce telling him that he's going to go out at night dressed as a bat to save Gotham, and the argument that ensues. Because he's scared that his boy is going to die on the streets of Gotham like his parents. But helping him anyway because his son has always been stubborn.

The nervousness when Bruce brings home a traumatized child from what was supposed to be a venture to get out of the house and do something normal for a change. Him not being sure if his son could look after a child.

Him seeing that Dick is actually doing some good for Bruce and watching as his son get's a little better each day taking care of Dick. Watching him become a father in his own right. Even if Dick doesn't see him that way yet.

Watching the devastation that the arguments between Dick and Bruce ensues. Knowing that Bruce is only scared of letting Dick go, but not being able to put that into words. Watching as each argument gets worse, the more Dick pulls away until it finally brakes and Dick leaves. Seeing the hurt that brings Bruce even though he unfortunately did it to himself.

Realizing that he picked up another child off the street.

Watching Dick come back just to scream at Bruce that he’s replaced him and gave the Robin mantle away when it wasn’t something for him to give. Seeing Bruce not form the right words to reassure Dick that he was not replaced, and making their bond break more.

Seeing Jason come out of his shell more and more, and watching the same effect Dick had on Bruce happen again with Jason. Watching as Dick comes back home more and more, and watching as Bruce and Dicks relationship starts to mend.

And then Jason dies, and nothing is the same.

The devastation of Bruce telling him that Jason was murdered. Bruce putting the funeral together quickly. Realizing that Bruce never told Dick about Jason until after the funeral. Their relationship snapping in two once again. The downward spiral that Bruce takes. Thinking, “He’s going to get himself killed, or he might do it himself.” And stopping him multiple times. Hearing his cries in the night, or him waking up screaming from another nightmare, and getting up to go into the kitchen so Bruce can “catch him there” and just sit with his boy for a long while. Knowing that nothing he can do or say will help his son.

Watching as he becomes more and more violent when he goes out at night, and not knowing what to do for his boy. Then seeing a small child come along and force his way into Bruce’s life. Watching Bruce try so hard to turn this boy away. Telling him to go back home. But the boy not listening. Tim is the child’s name, and seeing this boy do more for Bruce than he ever could. So even though it’s not a child’s place to fix a grown man, he is grateful. Because without Tim, Bruce would be dead by now.

Seeing Bruce get better but never the same as he once was, because he lost a child. His son. And Alfred has never been through that. But he’s grateful that his own son has not been taken from him yet…

Obviously there would be more but I can’t write all that down in a formate like this and I can’t write actual stories to save my life. But I hope you see my vision. In this fic it would also end up Superbat because they’re in love and you can’t tell me otherwise.

Bruce, visibly overwhelmed by Emotions as he watches a ten-year-old Dick goofing around in the batcave: Alfred. Alfred I think I'd die if something happened to him

Alfred: *carefully doesn't say that he thought the same thing when Martha and Thomas placed a newborn Bruce in his arms for the first time because he knows that'll completely destroy the little emotional bandwidth Bruce has*

[ylangelegy]

a lesson in begging 🚇 soonyoung x reader x jihoon.

jihoon learns the art of saying 'please', courtesy of his best friend and his best friend's girlfriend.

★ word count: 3.7k ★ genre/warnings: 18+ content. smut with 🤏 pinch of plot; jihoon-centric after the intro. established relationship (soonyoung x reader), mentions of female anatomy, pet names (s: ‘baby’, ‘goddess’, ‘good boy’). exhibitionism, voyeurism, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, so much begging, both soonyoung and jihoon are kind of pathetic [lovingly] in this one.  ★ footnotes: once again, when your biases release a song single album, you write the goddamn smut (2). shoutout to urbano latino & reggaeton music for getting me through this, and to @gyubakeries, @gotta-winwin & @diamonddaze01 for the hand-holding.

Soonyoung likes to think he’s a pretty generous guy. 

He’s never selfish about what he has. He shares when he can to anyone who asks. You, in particular, never have time to want anything; your darling boyfriend is attune to anything your heart might ever desire.

And if that just so happens to be his best friend Jihoon? Well, like we’ve established: Soonyoung is always going to give. 

You hadn’t really been discreet about it. You’d been guilty, maybe, but you were a language that Soonyoung was fluent in. He saw the way you’d watch Jihoon while the latter worked out, saw the way your face would light up when you’d hear the other man was coming over for one reason or another. 

A normal boyfriend would have been alarmed, might have thrown a fit. But Soonyoung was never normal to begin with. 

And— he never admitted this to you, did he?— he’d rather it be Jihoon than anyone else, anyway. 

You’re mortified when Soonyoung first brings it up. You’re ready to apologize for thinking Jihoon is sex on legs, but then Soonyoung makes his proposition. 

“I promised I’d give you everything, baby.” His voice is sweet and earnest. There’s no hint of maliciousness in it; he’s not using this as leverage. “Let me get you this, too.” 

That’s another thing about Soonyoung: It’s always been so hard to say ‘no’ to him. 

Jihoon is convinced this is some form of elaborate prank.

The words that just came out of Soonyoung’s mouth have yet to register to him. After ‘not a threesome’ a couple of sentences ago, Jihoon just kind of blanked out. 

You’re sitting on the edge of the bed you share with Soonyoung. You look pretty, Jihoon thinks, but then he corrects himself. You’re always pretty. 

Crap. That’s what got him in this situation, isn’t it? 

Jihoon takes a steadying breath when he realizes that you and Soonyoung are waiting for a response. “I’m sorry,” says Jihoon, keeping his voice as even as possible, “but what the actual fuck?” 

Soonyoung snickers. You look a little less amused. You elbow your boyfriend, a look of mild horror crossing your expression. 

“You didn’t warn him before inviting him over?” you seethe.

Soonyoung rubs the side you’d hit.  “I thought we could all talk about it together,” he shoots back. “You know, like a proper discussion.” 

“A discussion,” Jihoon echoes. He’s not sure if it’s you or him that’s going to throttle Soonyoung first. 

Jihoon’s mental list of how he intends to physically harm Soonyoung comes to a temporary pause. You’re looking at Jihoon, now, with an expression that’s almost apologetic. It makes something seize up in the man’s chest. 

“I didn’t mean to put you in an uncomfortable situation,” you say. “I just thought…” 

You trail off, and it’s the cruelest cliffhanger Jihoon has ever witnessed. “Thought what?” he prompts, shoving his hands in his pockets. That way, you wouldn’t have to see how he’s started shaking. 

Soonyoung finishes what you started. “We thought you wanted this.”

As if to explain what this was, Soonyoung reaches over from behind you and places his hand on your thigh. Jihoon’s eyes flick to the movement, but he looks away just as quickly. 

Soonyoung gives your thigh a light, reassuring squeeze. His eyes never leave Jihoon’s face. There’s a bit of a challenge, a hint of something serious. Like Soonyoung is daring Jihoon to deny his wants, deny this, deny you.

You— looking criminally lovely, watching Jihoon with caution and concern. There’s an undercurrent of distress in your expression, mixing with the annoyance at Soonyoung’s lack of tact. 

Jihoon swallows around the lump in his throat. He says something. It’s barely above a whisper. 

“Pardon?” you call out.

To hell with it, Jihoon thinks. To hell with it all.

He tries again, pitching his voice a little louder. “I do,” he says, wavering a bit on the words, “want this.” 

Want you, he had meant to say, but he chickened out at the last moment. It doesn’t matter. You and Soonyoung hear it anyway, and both your expressions shift into something more pleasant. Soonyoung looks smug. You, reassured. 

The room suddenly feels a lot warmer. There’s still considerable distance between Jihoon and the two of you. It’s the only thing keeping him sane, really. 

“That’s good.” The sheer relief in your tone could drive Jihoon crazy. You go on, “I would have hated to misread.” 

Misread which part, Jihoon wonders. The way his eyes always lingered a little too long on the hems of your shorts and skirts? The way all his sharp edges would soften when it came to you? 

Jihoon wants you, has wanted you for months. He had convinced himself that he was The World’s Worst Best Friend Ever, even. But Soonyoung is now looking at Jihoon like the latter is the opposite of that. The World’s Best Best Friend Ever— for agreeing to please you.

This arrangement would undoubtedly have consequences, even if it were a one-time thing. Jihoon can’t bring himself to care, though. He’s not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

He closes the distance, reveling in the tension that crackles with each step. You tilt your head back ever so slightly in a bid to never break eye contact with Jihoon. 

“You didn’t misread,” Jihoon says quietly. “I— you’re pretty.” 

He had hoped to soften the blow with I think, but why deny himself of the plain and simple truth? You’re so soft as you look up at Jihoon, the gratitude written all over your face. The tender moment is short-lived, though, because Soonyoung inevitably butts in. 

“Just pretty?” Your boyfriend sounds offended on your behalf. “Is that all you’ve got, Jihoon?” 

“Soonyoung,” you chide, but the older man barrels on. 

“Pretty isn’t enough,” Soonyoung insists. His hand slides up your thigh, tugging your dress up a little higher. This time, Jihoon lets himself watch, lets himself appreciate your skin as it’s revealed to him. “Do better, Jihoon.” 

“What might you suggest?” Jihoon asks, unable to look away from the hint of red lace underneath your dress. 

Soonyoung hums lowly. He leans forward, his teeth catching at your earlobe as he keeps your back pressed firmly against his chest. 

“Ethereal,” Soonyoung whispers reverently. “Gorgeous.” 

There wasn’t a doubt in Jihoon’s mind that Soonyoung adored you, practically worshipped the ground you worked on. This made the whole situation even more surreal, but Jihoon can’t look away— at how your eyes flutter close, how your breath hitches ever so slightly.

You’re so damn responsive. Jihoon’s heart thunders in his chest. He can’t imagine how this will end, and it hasn’t even begun. 

“Baby,” you say, and Soonyoung quits his teasing. 

He rests his chin on your shoulder and fixes his gaze on Jihoon. “If you want something,” Soonyoung drawls, “you’re going to have to beg for it.” 

For the first time that night, Jihoon’s facade of calculated calmness crumples. Beg for it? Jihoon wasn’t about to beg Soonyoung for a thing. Soonyoung was the one calling in for a favor, technically. As badly as Jihoon wants you, he can’t imagine himself ever being on his knees for Soonyoung. For anything. 

Soonyoung notices Jihoon’s agitation. The blonde’s face breaks out into a shit-eating grin, the kind that promises trouble for days. 

“Like this,” Soonyoung chirps, and then he pulls the rug underneath Jihoon’s feet. 

Soonyoung shifts on the bed, moving around until he’s at your side instead of cradling you from behind. He presses his knees into the mattress and he wrings his hands together, his face tilted towards yours. 

“Please,” Soonyoung tells you sweetly. “Please, please, baby?”

Jihoon’s brain short-circuits. He barely has time to think holy shit before Soonyoung ups his act, showering you with compliments about how perfect you are, about how badly he needs— needs, not wants— you.

You smile a bit before putting Soonyoung out of his misery. It’s not the first time Jihoon has seen the two of you make out, but it’s the first time that you open your eyes mid-kiss to glance at Jihoon, as if checking to see if he’s still watching. 

Soonyoung isn’t dealing the cards tonight. You are. 

Noted, Jihoon thinks, as he watches you lick into Soonyoung’s mouth. Your boyfriend lets out a sound between a guttural moan and a happy hum. He pulls away a moment later, his grin dopey and his gaze unfocused. 

“Good boys get rewarded,” Soonyoung tells Jihoon matter-of-factly.  

Jihoon winces. God, he’d rather die than be called a ‘good boy’ by Kwon Soonyoung, of all people. Jihoon is mentally weighing the pros and cons of this whole situation when Soonyoung shuffles backward, leaning against the headboard. Now, it’s just you and Jihoon at the foot of the bed. 

He doesn’t know what he should do. Sit? Kiss you senseless? Soonyoung answers for him— 

“Beg, Jihoon.” Soonyoung’s tone brooks no argument. “Tell my girlfriend what you want from her.” 

You look expectant. Jihoon hadn’t noticed that earlier. So much of you was unassuming, from your perceived shyness to your sundress hiding the red lingerie that was undoubtedly hugging all your curves right. The thought of it makes the front of Jihoon’s jeans feel a lot tighter. 

He clears his throat. He got this far; he might as well. And nobody outside this room would have to know, right? 

“Please,” Jihoon mumbles. 

He expects Soonyoung to speak up, so he’s a bit thrown when you’re the one who goes for the jab. “What was that?” you ask, and it would be innocent if it weren’t for the hint of a smirk on your lips. 

Jihoon inwardly prays for the ground to swallow him whole. When that doesn’t happen, he instead grits out his next words. 

“Please,” he says through his teeth. “May I kiss you?” 

It’s a piss poor attempt, but you’re nothing if not benevolent. Your fingers close around the front of Jihoon’s shirt and you tug him downward. 

He nearly stumbles when he feels your mouth against him. Jihoon isn’t sure if he can touch, whether he can even manage, so he ends up grabbing fistfuls of the sheets beneath you as you give him what he asked for. 

You kiss him so sweetly. It’s a dangerous thing, one that Jihoon fears he could grow addicted to if he wasn’t careful. Your tongue traces Jihoon’s bottom lip as if testing the waters, and he fights the urge to grab you by the waist and show you exactly how that makes him feel. 

The kiss breaks with the two of you gasping for air. Jihoon doesn’t know when he leaned further into your personal space, but he can feel your heaving chest against his own and it’s maddening. 

Jihoon had been so lost in the moment he’d forgotten Soonyoung was there, even. The latter pipes up, acutely aware that the kiss hadn’t been enough. That you’d pulled away too soon, leaving Jihoon in absolute shambles. 

“If you want more,” Soonyoung says, “you’re going to have to beg harder, Jihoon.”

This is either the best or the worst thing that has ever happened to Jihoon. He’ll decide later, he thinks to himself, as his hands finally find purchase at your hips.

Miraculously, Jihoon finds his voice. “Let me taste you.” Every moment in this room is chipping away at his pride, if the way he whines out the next word is any indication. 

“Please,” Jihoon says desperately, despairingly. 

It was the very first thing Jihoon remembered learning as a child. Say please, he had been taught. It’s the polite thing to do. It shows you have good manners. 

There’s nothing polite about the way Jihoon finds himself in between your thighs. There’s nothing good-mannered about the moans he tears out of you, about the way your fingers tug at his hair in a way that’s almost painful. 

You’re on your back, your head in Soonyoung’s lap as Jihoon works on you like a man starved. Your dress is pushed up your chest; Soonyoung could take the opportunity to play with your breasts. Instead, he keeps your hair out of your face and lovingly gazes at you as you thrash underneath Jihoon’s assault. 

“Enjoying yourself, baby?” Soonyoung coos.

Your response— something between yes and fuck you— breaks off into a keening whine when Jihoon doubles his efforts. He diligently laps up the slick of your sopping cunt before introducing his fingers; the two digits slide in with little to no resistance, and he rewards you by sucking on your clit. 

“Jihoon,” you cry out, your back arching off the bed. “Oh my God, Ji— hng— where did you—?” 

“Learn all that?” Soonyoung interjects. You’re too preoccupied to care about your boyfriend interrupting, too focused on Jihoon who has started crooking his fingers. “You know what they say, baby. It’s always the quiet ones you have to look out for.” 

Jihoon isn’t about to try and contest Soonyoung, not when you’re writhing so beautifully underneath his mouth. It’s borderline painful, the way Jihoon is grasping your hip like his life depends on it. 

An obscene slurp and the tease of another finger is all it takes to have you falling over the edge. Jihoon slows his ministrations, enjoying the feel of you tightening around his fingers. 

He pulls away as you come back down to earth. The entire lower half of his face glistens with your slick. Jihoon is obnoxious enough to dart his tongue around his mouth and smack his lips, as if trying to taste as much of you as possible. 

Soonyoung cackles. He’s enjoying this far more than he probably should. You can tell, though; there’s a tent in your boyfriend’s sweatpants, his clothed hardness pressing against your cheek. 

You nuzzle closer to it, a wordless whine escaping you. Soonyoung gets the message.

“Come on, baby,” he coaxes, guiding you further up the mattress. As he helps you out of your dress, Jihoon situates himself a bit better at the foot of the bed. 

He’s in desperate need of friction himself. Absent-mindedly, he palms himself over his jeans, watching as Soonyoung guides you to get on all fours. 

Soonyoung’s clothes join yours on the floor. It isn’t the first time that Jihoon has seen Soonyoung’s cock— a story for another time— but there’s still a moment where the younger man is jolted. Having experienced, now, just how tight you are, Jihoon can’t even fathom how Soonyoung can fit inside you. 

If either of you notice Jihoon’s attempts to relieve himself, you’re both graceful enough to not comment on it. Soonyoung focuses on bracing himself behind you, one hand resting at your waist while the other gives his cock a couple of leisurely pumps. 

You’re already primed to be fucked, but Soonyoung is taking his time. No, Jihoon realizes. 

Soonyoung is putting on a show. 

There’s a lazy smirk on Soonyoung’s face when he locks eyes with Jihoon. For a moment, Jihoon is tempted to stop touching himself, but it’s like he physically can’t stop himself. Meanwhile, Soonyoung is busying himself with rubbing the length of his cock against the curve of your ass— giving you time to recover from your orgasm while also making Jihoon suffer. 

“Wanna fuck my girlfriend, Jihoon?” Soonyoung taunts. “Want her greedy cunt around your cock, hm?” 

You let out a low hiss of warning as Jihoon bites back a moan. Soonyoung reels in his bravado, sliding his hand up to entangle his fingers in your hair. 

“Sorry, baby,” he says soothingly. “Didn’t mean to talk about you like that.” 

Soonyoung pushes your hair over your shoulder so he has better access to your back. He places a couple of kisses across your shoulder blades before glancing back up at Jihoon, the earlier mischievousness considerably dialed down now. 

“You know what you have to do,” Soonyoung tells Jihoon. “She’s in charge. Ask.” 

The remnants of Jihoon’s shredded pride hold him back. To ask for a kiss, to ask to eat you out— what the hell, sure. To ask if he can fuck you into next week? 

Jihoon squeezes himself through his pants, his gaze fixated on the way you’re looking up at him with dazed anticipation. He almost salivates at the thought of your soft, warm walls trying to accommodate him. 

Alas, his blasted pride. Jihoon opens his mouth then promptly clamps it close, unable to bring himself for this. 

Soonyoung lets out a low ‘tch’ of disapproval. “Suit yourself,” he huffs. 

Like a switch that had been flipped, Soonyoung now focuses all his attention on you. “Goddess,” your boyfriend says against your skin, his tone so loving that Jihoon feels like he’s intruding. “Can I make you feel good? Make you finish a second time tonight?”

You give a jerky nod, canting your hips backward until Soonyoung is lined up with you. “Yes, baby,” you whimper, keeping your eyes on Jihoon despite the fact you’re seeking out Soonyoung. “Want you inside me right now.” 

“I know, I know,” Soonyoung groans like your words have brought him pain, like it physically hurts him to hear you plead for anything. “I’ll give, baby. I’ll give.” 

Soonyoung slides home, benefiting from the slickness of your first orgasm. The two of you let out twin moans. It takes everything in Jihoon not to come on the spot. 

Jihoon never thought he’d been into this. He’s frozen, incapable of moving or looking away, as Soonyoung plows into you with practiced thrusts. Your fingers twist into the sheets below you and you struggle to keep your head up, your eyes open. 

Your gaze is half-lidded as you watch Jihoon’s slack-jawed expression. It has you fluttering around Soonyoung, who squeezes the flesh of your ass in retaliation. 

“Shit.” Your boyfriend picks up his relentless pace, his free hand carefully pressing between your shoulder blades. You sink a little further into the mattress and Soonyoung takes advantage of it, driving himself deeper into you. 

“You like having an audience, baby?” Soonyoung breathes.

Somehow, you manage to nod. Jihoon’s fingers close a little tighter around the outline of his jeans and, slowly, tentatively, he goes back to rubbing himself through the rough material. It’s equal parts painful and pleasurable but he figures it’s what he deserves for getting off to his best friend’s girlfriend. 

“Tell me what he looks like,” Soonyoung urges, his hands tangling into your hair again. He clutches at your roots and pulls your head back enough so that you have a better view of Jihoon. “Describe it for me, please.” 

Soonyoung is always so polite and tender when it comes to you. Jihoon gets you, now; he really does. That doesn’t help the way his dick twitches when he sees the blissed out look on your face, like being stuffed with Soonyoung’s cock had somehow fucked all the thoughts out of your head.

Jihoon must not be looking any better than you, because there’s a ghost of a smile on your face as you fulfill your boyfriend’s request. “He looks desperate,” you mewl, your fingers flexing around the crumpled sheets underneath you. “Looks like he needs something, baby.” 

Soonyoung chuckles. “And what does he need?” 

“Dunno.” You roll your hips to meet one of Soonyoung’s thrusts, drawing a heated cuss from the man. “He isn’t asking.” 

A muscle in Jihoon’s jaw ticks. Oh, this was a different kind of torture. He has half the mind to pull his pants down and shove his dick in your mouth to shut—

“Be nice, baby,” Soonyoung warns, “or else I won’t let you finish.” 

It’s an empty threat. Even Jihoon knows that much. You have Soonyoung wrapped around your little finger, and your boyfriend will go to the ends of the world to please you. 

Still, you play along. You attempt to apologize, but the word breaks off when Soonyoung slides his fingers over to your clit. His thrusts are uncoordinated with the circles he draws over the sensitive nub, but you don’t seem to mind. 

Your eyes are watery from the onslaught of sensations, your legs are shaky, and your lips are parted in a perpetual gasp. Jihoon thinks it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

A sound finally escapes him. It’s a quiet thing— barely a moan— but Soonyoung catches it anyway. 

“You’re already on your knees,” Soonyoung tells you quietly, conspiratorially. “How about you show Jihoon how we ask in this relationship, hm?” 

It’s so quick, so sudden. Jihoon barely has time to catch on and prepare himself before you’re surging forward, your fingers wrapping around his wrist. You replace his hand with your lips, mouthing his hardness over his jeans. 

You’re just as sloppy as Soonyoung. There’s no method to the way you clamp your lips over Jihoon’s clothed cock. It’s all drool, a hint of teeth. A crude imitation of what it’d be like if you actually took him in your mouth. 

And Jihoon— he’s surprised he’s still breathing, actually. His hands find purchase at your shoulders, torn between pushing you off and keeping you in place. He settles for the latter, his eyes blown wide as he watches you give him this perverse blowjob.

“Fuck,” Jihoon rasps. “Fuck, fuck, fuuuck—” 

You look up at him then. It’s not your eyes that does him over. Not your sweat-slicked forehead or your flushed cheeks. No, it’s the way you pull away ever so briefly, your entire body rocking as Soonyoung continues to pummel into you. 

Your breath is warm over Jihoon’s crotch as you whine a single word. 

“Please?” 

He doesn’t even know what you’re asking for. Regardless, he busts his load with a pained grunt. It’s uncomfortable to come undone in his boxers, with his pants still on, but he can’t help himself.

Soonyoung follows not long after, emptying his load into you. He hisses as he finishes, his own climax bringing you to your second high.

You slump forward, your mouth instinctively latching back onto Jihoon’s waning hardness. He’s so sensitive, but he makes no effort to pull you away from his front. Soonyoung doesn’t seem keen on moving yet either, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles into the skin of your hips.

“See?” Soonyoung says, his voice wrecked but his grin as annoyingly smug as ever. “Good boy, Jihoon.” 

[atalana]

and since i legally have to put it on every endo post - heavy bleeding/fainting from blood loss/extremely painful periods are for sure a symptom of endometriosis in some people

but it can also go the other way! my periods were so light i got them maybe twice a year, and i didn't think anything of it until the endo got really bad because it's harder to notice the absence of something bad than the presence of it

(and for people who don't know what endometriosis is - so you know how the reason periods exist is because once a month your uterus starts lining itself with all the stuff it needs to build a baby, and then sheds it when it realises there isn't a baby? what happens with endo is you're still making that lining, but your body isn't sure where it's actually supposed to go, so instead of building it inside your womb, it just starts attaching it to random organs. which is a) not great for your health on multiple fronts, and b) why sometimes you don't get your period at all, because it doesn't have a way out of your body from wherever it ended up)

so to reiterate - if it has been more than maybe 4 years since you got your first period and they haven't regulated into something consistent and predictable yet? that might be a sign that your uterus is getting confused as to what its job actually is

(and also extremely painful periods might be a symptom of other reproductive disorders that aren't endo, PCOS comes to mind but i think there's more - so as op said! you don't have to suffer through this and if you have been it might be an indication of a problem you can then work to address)

(from what i understand the average period pain shouldn't feel much worse than say the pain you get the day after strenuous exercise)

hey so it’s march now aka the beginning of endometriosis awareness month and i feel obligated to remind you that debilitatingly painful periods are not normal. if you or someone you know is ending up sick or bedridden every month, you are not crazy and deserve medical attention from someone who will take you seriously

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Eldritch Ex-Husband ///////

Your now ex-husband is incredibly surprised when the authorities are dispatched to your new house when he enters. Thinking nothing of it he broke the knob of your new home, thinking after all that time talking with the judge over some foreign topic you’d both be settling into the new place. Turns out this ‘divorce’-thing and ‘restraining order’-stuff meant something after all. That he couldn’t be with you and the baby.

“Wait, the dee - force means I don’t get to come home? What–?”

“Sir, if you give me trouble it’ll only hurt your chances of seeing your kid more.”

“Wait I can’t see him? (Y/n)! (Y/n)-honey, please!”

“Sir, please put your hands behind your back.”

The only reason he doesn’t suck their brains out through their noses+ fight more is because he’s so devastated as he thinks about how in the dark about cruel-human-practices. Only now does it register that when you were oh-so cutely crying about leaving, you weren’t talking about a late night run to the store to satisfy your cravings. That the word he had dismissed as something you wanted to buy was actually an action. An action that meant he’d be deprived of the most important person in his life.

“Hello?”

“......I did not understand before….but I understand now.”

“Kilton? You know a restraining order extends to calls, right?”

“IM nOt LetTInG yOu go—”

Click.

“Creep.”

As he reluctantly uses the resources proposed to him, to argue for custody he has time to think about when you first mentioned the word. But the more he replays those heavenly moments with you he realizes how often your brow was scrunched and a vein was popping from that kissable forehead. It’s then that your ex-husband begins to realize just how little he was actually listening to you. Ashamed, he’s realized that while he finds all your actions absolutely irresistible it didn’t mean you were happy. And he really had no one to blame but himself.

“Hello this is Kilton (L/n) if you have a message leave it at the tone….beep.”

“Hey I hope I got the right number but I need your help with the baby….there’s stuff going on that I have no idea how to deal with. I won’t call the police or tell anyone..I just need….some help. And you're the only one who can give it to me.”

“OF COURSE i’LL BE RIGht oVER!”

“Wait you never set up your voicemai—”

When you left your husband, you were tired of being so confused all the time. Your husband, your best friend was keeping you in the dark for a long time now. Starting from the occasionally odd behavior you’d witness him do, that he’d brush off as if it were nothing. Like the doors in the house that have begun to open to alternate dimensions (that’s what you believe but your husband will not explain in any way) ignoring your concerns and calling you being ‘silly.’ It was annoying but you hadn’t died yet so it wasn’t that bad…until you got pregnant.

“How can this be?”

“Yippee I told you, that one took!”

“No, I literally can’t.”

“Of course, you can babe, you already are look at your little bump.”

“No like I literally can’t this is unbelievable.”

Whether you physically can and were vigilant in prevention or you physically should not be able to conceive matters not. You are pregnant. Or you were. And while dealing with the intense hormones and birthing pains and gravity-defying phenomena happening in your home, your ex-husband would explain nothing. Doing nothing but smile wistfully at you while you demanded to know why the fridge was inching closer every time you turned the corner. Any sane person could only handle so much of his pretend assurances that you were just losing your mind. 

But hindsight 20/20 you should’ve known you couldn’t get rid of your eldritch ex-husband with your eldritch baby. 

“Hey you left the door unlocked, so I let myself in. Babe, you can’t be doing that it’s really unsa–the furniture doesn’t look at all like it did before.”

“Of course it doesn’t! Because your son has decided to rearrange it with his humming!” 

“That’s not a hum, Love. He’s singing a hymn of Utter Chaos–”

“I DON’T CARE WHAT IT IS MAKE HIM STOP.”

As you suspected the root of all the inexplicable happenings in your life were because of your ex-husband and by extension the little bundle that has been doing all sorts of things a normal baby shouldn’t. Like humming the ‘utter chaos song’ or making supplies float over to you while changing him or how at the end of his bath the water turns red and evaporates in an echo of screams. It’s just a little alarming.

“Where is the baby?”

“In that other dimension.”

“Excuse me?”

“Isn’t that something familiar to you? Every now and then he just goes into this other dimension that let’s his laugh morph the walls a little.”

“Oh my. That’s new for me too.”

Surprisingly despite your husband’s now-confirmed-eldritch-heritage he’s not an exact expert on everything his son does. Apparently no one from his world/dimension/atternate plane of existence does everything your son does and is blissfully writing off as something from your side of the family. He’ll shrug and use the opportunity to listen to you list the observations you’ve made about your darling offspring and maybe compliment you on your vigilance as a new unfortunately single parent. Don’t worry it won’t be that way for long!+

“So the blood water thing. It happens whenever he interacts with water.”

“Oh I know that one it’s an old habit of mine, for storing water for later!”

“What about the metal-eating?”

“Metal eating? With no teeth? Beats me must have gotten a taste from all those utensils you’re so fond of. By the way parenthood looks good on you have I told you that?”

As he becomes more of a constant presence in your home, there's a startling change in your baby boy’s behavior. It doesn’t stop but it’s a lot less destructive. Finally, you could have the delivery crew enter the yard without them being swallowed by the portal to your son’s crib. Finally, you can afford to have a couple-hour meet and greet with your family without anyone inexplicably sprouting horns. So reluctantly you let him back into your life with very specific conditions.

“You can’t stay the night.”

“Aww but aren’t you worried about me going home in the dark?”

“I know you’re not just some helpless human, so no. Second rule no kissing or lovey dovey things with me.”

“Got it. So vague I can work with that.”

“And finally–”

“EEEKK! WHAT DID HE DO TO MY BABY!?”

“Oh guess someone’s up from their nap.”

“I’ll distract her with a ring to her doorbell, you change back the dog.”

“As always, please try to turn down her invites for dinner this time. I don’t think I can spare her if she upsets him again.”

“No promises!”

Kilton realizes that what he has with you doesn’t mean he’s equally let back into your life, especially since so many other couples ailed by this (dee)force co-parent more or less the same so he’s got his work cut out for him. He’ll have to finally get over his listening issue while worming his way back into your heart! And don’t worry he definitely will!

[mylovescara]

ʜɪꜱ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇ

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ 𝘊𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘰𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘴𝘮♡

𝘤𝘸; 𝘔𝘋𝘕𝘐!! 𝘨𝘯!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘫𝘰𝘣, 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘺!𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘰, 𝘴𝘶𝘣!𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘰

choso sat in front of you his huge bulge showing through his slacks his hands fidgeting with a bashful look on his face “I-i don't know what's wrong with me… I was just daydreaming a-and this happened...” he says referring to his very obvious bulge

You look at the way he is looking away and can immediately tell he was not just “daydreaming” but alas you can tell he hasn’t a clue why his cock is hard and leaking in his pants “It’s ok Choso I’ll help that’s why am here ok?” you wonder why you were his first choice to call for help, he probably knew this wasn’t a situation where he could call Yuji or anyone else but why you?

Choso’s eyes lighten up when you say you'll help him and he finally makes eye contact “… really?” you nod and start to move closer to him “Can I touch you choso? Let me help you feel better sweetie” he gives you a verbal confirmation and you lean in putting your hand over his clothed cock eliciting a gasp from him.

“t-this feels…different,” he says confused having never felt these feelings before not knowing why all he can think about is how pretty you would look undressed, he bites his lip as you unzip his pants and start slowly rubbing your hand up and down his cock the thin layer of his underwear making it feel as if there’s no barrier between your hand at all.

“G-God…d-don’t stop” you chuckle knowing you haven’t even done much yet and he’s already so worked up “Choso, can I take it out?” He nods his head frantically wanting nothing more then to feel your warm hands bare on him, as soon as you pull the band of his boxer down his hard erection springs out standing upwards at your attention.

You slowly start moving your hand up and down his cock causing more precum to spill from his redden tip “a-ah! fuck…y/n” he bites his lip and starts moving his hips subconsciously thrusting his cock in your hand “you getting close Choso?” He nods his head moans flying out his mouth not able to even realise all the sound he’s making.

“I-I feel like I’m about t-to explode..!” you start moving your hand faster and Choso can’t help but be restless, his body has never felt this kind of pleasure before and he doesn’t know how to handle it, it’s making him feel light-headed and confused at the same time the feeling of it being to overstimulating but not wanting it to stop.

“I-its g-gonna come out…!” choso not knowing what's about to happen throws his head back letting out a cacophony of moans as he shoots his cum all over your hand, his cock throbbing as he continues to cum for another 15 seconds painting your hand white going to show how bad he needed this.

you continue moving your hand letting him ride out the last couple seconds of his orgasm before he grabs your hand to stop it “p-please…t-to much” he can't help but have a submissive look on his face, drool spilling down the corner of his lips and tears brimming his eyes.

You smile and bring your clean hand up to his face stroking his cheek wiping the stray tears off his face “Choso did you enjoy it?” he nods slowly feeling embrassed once again as he avoids eye contact, you bring a kiss to his cheek and put his softening erection back in his pants for him.

“….thank you” he mumbles not knowing what to say to fucked out to think of words “if you ever need my help again don't hesitate ok?” he smiles slightly at your words knowing hell have to take you up on that offer.

y'all I'm so sorry for not posting for like 5 years sometimes I just icba 💔

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Two

It’s dark. The window is still open, but the chillier air is kind of nice on Eddie’s flushed skin.

The clean bedding is nice too; Eddie tries to remember the last time he appreciated something as nice as clean sheets and draws a blank.

Probably when he still lived with Wayne. Probably before they made it big. Probably before the partying started.

Eddie picks up his phone, his thumb hovering over the call button. He presses it.

Wayne doesn’t pick up. Eddie’s not surprised, not really.

He tries Chris; she doesn’t answer either.

Likewise Gareth.

He doesn't bother calling Jeff.

There’s no one else in his phone; Chrissy took it all away when Eddie couldn’t differentiate between a friend a dealer or a booty call.

Like the worst Marie Kondo ever, Chrissy had held up the hundreds of friends Eddie had in his phone, one by one, ‘does this spark joy?’

No. Sometimes sucked his dick, though.

Eddie has money though. He twirls his phone on his chest, flipping it from long edge to short. There’s always somewhere open. Flip. Flip. Flip.

Not like anyone's answering him right now anyway. They’ve just left him here. With fucking Steve. It’s just one time anyway, he wouldn’t get away with it more than once. Chrissy would put him on proper lock down if she found out. Probably shove him back in the clinic.

So...just once.

One last go. And then he’d quit for sure. He hasn’t touched it for months, so he’s pretty much proved he can do it, anyway.

Eddie gets dressed. Finds cash balled up in random places.

Eddie stands in the doorway. Look up at the stars and then across the lawn at the security gates. He hasn’t had so much as a cigarette in nearly half a year. This is fine.

“Where you going, Eddie?”

Eddie sighs. Fucking busted. Still, “no where you need to worry about.”

“Uh hu.”

“Look, I’m not on house arrest okay? I can go out, I’m a grown fucking man.”

“You totally are. You want to go out, you go for it. No skin off my nose.”

Eddie whirls, shocked, “what the fuck? Aren’t you supposed to try and stop me from doing dumb shit?”

Steve raises the eyebrow, “so you admit it’s dumb?” He looks sleep rumpled, wearing sweats and a white tee shirt.

Walked right into that one. “You’re dumb.”

The face again. The totally schooled features that are utterly professional and give absolutely nothing away and yet...somehow...he’s laughing at Eddie. Eddie can feel it.

“So you go out,” Steve saunters over, stands next to Eddie, bare toes curling over the doorstep, “you score or drink or do whatever it is you’re aiming to do. Then what?”

“Then what,” Eddie mimics, all bitchy, “I’ll come home, and I’ll sober up, and it won’t change a fucking thing,” Eddie bites out.

“You think? You’ve had sober spells before, is that how it’s gone in the past?”

Eddie takes a deep breathe, because no, no that is not how it’s fucking gone in the past, “this time is different.”

“Is it?” Steve asks, completely fucking nonchalant, “how so?”

Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever wanted to punch someone so bad in all his life. Imagines it viscerally, Steve's fucking head cracking on the door frame while he slumps to the floor in a bloody heap.

Eddie does not do that, obviously.

“Look, I’ll come home, we don’t do anything about it, you still get paid, sound good?”

“I get paid either way,” Steve shrugs one shoulder, because he’s a cunt. “This is how a lot of addicts die, did you know that?”

“What?” Eddie asks, startled by the left turn.

“Yeah, get out of rehab, think their tolerance is still the same, get back on it…” he doesn’t bother to finish.

“That won’t happen to me.”

“Oh yeah, right. Of course. Because you’re Eddie Munson, sorry, sorry, forgot a second there.”

Eddie takes two thumping angry steps into the yard and just...just fucking screams at the sky. Just...roars at nothing. This is shit. It’s so shit. Everything is shit. And Eddie nearly fucking died last time and there’s no escaping that fact. There’s no help. There’s no point to any of this. There’s just pain and fucking misery and something clawing at Eddie’s insides trying to get out.

He roars until he’s hoarse. Until he can’t any more. Until his chin is wet with spit and he feels week and rung out.

He sits on his ass on the cold, dewy lawn.

Steve is still standing in the doorway, he doesn’t look like he’s moved at all. If he’s at all bothered by Eddie’s little meltdown, he isn’t showing it.

“Why did you want to go?” Steve asks finally, "did something change?"

Eddie shrugs, he’s got nothing, not really. No real reason past just wanting to get fucked up. Because it feels good. Because he likes it.

“Okay, what’s worth staying for?”

Eddie makes a dismissive ‘pfffft’, made croaky by his fucked out voice.

“They always say you need to do these things for yourself,” Eddie glares at Steve, because that's some dumb shit right there. Always had it in therapy though. Self worth. Mindfulness. Living in the moment and being proud of what you’ve already achieved and every journey starts with a single step and all that other bull shit they try and feed you. “I know. I agree. When you...feel like you’re nothing, you’re not worth any effort. It’s the hardest time. So pick someone else. Who can you do it for?”

“They don’t care,” Eddie croaks, “they didn’t answer,” he pulls his phone out, flips it onto the grass.

“Who?”

“Chris. Wayne.”

“Okay, give me a good reason why Wayne didn’t answer? That’s your uncle, right?”

“Yeah he...he could be at work,” Eddie admits quietly. Eddie’s given Wayne money. Well, practically forced it on him. Set him up with a nice place; or at least as nice as he could talk Wayne into. Wayne doesn’t believe in free loading though. Eddie’s convinced him to do less hours, but he still works nights two or three times a week. Claims it’s ninety percent of his social life, or some shit like that.

“Okay, and Chris?”

Eddie shrugs, embarrassment over his outburst making him petulant now.

“Eddie, what time is it where Chris is, right now?”

Eddie sighs up at the stars. It’s the middle of the fucking night, “late. Early. I guess.”

“Okay. So they’re not ignoring you, they’re just living their lives like normal human beings. Come on, get up, your ass is gonna be wet.”

“And do what?” Eddie snaps, “what’s the fucking point.” It’s not a question.

“Come on, I want to show you something.”

“It was a tough time, you know? Like, life sucks hard sometimes. Music helps. My favorite is The Wilds, you know? You heard that one?” The interviewer mumbles something indistinguishable, “it’s kind of...like the bit about the shining sea, you know? How like, it’s so beautiful, but it’s fucking hard to sail on. Or like how the mountains are so beautiful, but if you go up there alone, you’re gonna’ die, right? So I think...like how insignificant, and meaningless my life is, in like, the grand scheme of things, but like...that makes what you do even more important, right? Like, it means more, when you choose to be...I dunno,” the kid with a million piercings shrugs, “like just be good to each other, you know?”

“That’s not even remotely what that song is about,” Eddie mumbles at the laptop monitor.

Behind him, Steve snorts a laugh, “well that kid thinks it is.”

Another kid, more makeup than the whole of Kiss slathered on her face, “I just think it has meaning, you know?” The interviewer mumbles something again, “oh my favorite?” A lip bitten in thought, she looks at the sky for inspiration, it’s sunset, Eddie figures. Lots of similarly dressed kids in the background. Takes him a second to realize this was filmed outside of a gig, or something like that. “It’s hard to pick, but if I gotta’, it’s definitely Double Down. Those lyrics are just...Eddie Munson is just...he’s a fucking genius, you know?” She frowns, “but also really fucking dumb soemtimes, I hope he’s okay.”

“I didn’t even write that one. Jeff wrote most of that. On napkins, I think. I just...worked it together.”

Another kid, saying how important Corroded Coffin are; how they helped this kid through hard times. Honestly it’s a difficult watch, Eddie has no fucking clue where Steve even found this, and when Eddie’s phone rings he jumps on it, glad of an excuse to slap the screen of the laptop closed.

“Hi, Eddie! You called, sorry it’s early I got up to go for a run-”

“No. No, it’s fine, I...I shouldn’t have called you so late. Early. You were probably sleeping.”

“That’s okay, of course it’s okay, it’s nice you called me,” she snickers, “you never call me.”

That’s true, and Eddie feels bad. It’s always Chrissy chasing after Eddie. Trying to keep a lid on him...trying to keep him safe. He was always the one dodging her. “Yeah, sorry…” Eddie gets up so he can walk away from Steve, tail between his legs he slinks into the hall, he vows, “I’ll try and do better.”

“Good, how are you feeling? Hows your rut?”

Eddie is not fucking admitting that he just had a breakdown and nearly fucked it all up in the middle of the night. No fucking way is he admitting that, “yeah...yeah, just...couldn’t sleep, you know? I guess the rut...still going. Feels weird.”

Eddie can hear Chris moving around, figures she has him on speaker or something, “uh hu, that’s because you haven’t cycled a proper rut in like, four years honey, these things take time to settle. Is Steve doing okay? You’re not being a cunt to him are you?”

“Well I’ve only thought about punching him,” something jogs in Eddie’s mind, “Chrissy, what happened to the cleaning lady?”

“Oh...we did talk about it honey but you weren't really...taking it in, I don’t think-”

“I was fucked up.”

“Yeah...but she…”

“Just say it.”

“The...you know, the vomit. You were constantly trashing the place. She was worried she was...well she was mostly scared she was going to walk in one day and find your body.”

“Oh.” Eddie slumps down on the bottom step, “that sucks. I liked her.”

“Don’t worry, her final pay was incredible. She got a really impressive bunch of flowers.”

“Oh...well. Thank you. For sorting that.” Eddie’s eyes feel wet. His lip wobbles a little, but he holds it in. He’s got no right to guilt about that, not now. “The place looks okay though, I think Steve’s been cleaning some.”

“Yeah, probably, he seems like a good guy.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, but the first tear breaks free and he knows he can’t hide it much longer, “go on your run.”

“Okay, speak later?”

“Yeah, course.”

“Eddie?”

“Hmm?”

“It’s so great to hear you sounding more like yourself, I missed you so much.”

Eddie hangs up, draws his knees up to his chest, the material of his sweats already darkened with tears.

[inseobts]

Heyo, I hope you’re well and keeping nice and warm? I was wondering if you’d ever consider a continuation to Undercover Lovers, maybe with putting Hiyori in between? All good if you don’t think of continuing the story, take good care!! ❤️

Undercover Lovers Part 2

zoro x reader

while waiting for luffy and the others to return from whole cake island, you and the rest of the crew are forced to go undercover in wano, where your and zoro's cover as a loving couple quickly gets complicated.

PART 1

a/n: thank you cutie, hope you like it (ฅ́ ˘ฅ̀)♡

words count: 1.2k

tags: wci and wano spoilers, fake dating, romance, soft zoro

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

The streets of Wano are quieter at night, but the tension in the air never fades. You and Zoro maintain your cover, still pretending to be a loving couple, but something has shifted again since the arrival of Kozuki Hiyori.

She had appeared unexpectedly, her presence like a gentle breeze, graceful, elegant, and far too comfortable in Zoro’s personal space. At first, you brushed it off, knowing that she had her reasons for staying close to him. But as the days passed, irritation settled in your chest like an immovable weight.

After escaping Orochi’s men, you, Zoro, Hiyori, and Toko take shelter in an old, hidden house in the Ringo region. The place is small but safe, with only a single futon, a few worn-out blankets, and enough food to last for a few days. You expected this to be just another part of the mission, but soon, it starts feeling like something else entirely.

Like you don’t belong.

Hiyori insists on tending to Zoro’s wounds, her delicate hands carefully wrapping bandages around his torso. You sit in the corner of the room, arms crossed, watching in silence. Toko giggles as she plays nearby, occasionally running up to Zoro and poking his arm, completely at ease.

“You should be more careful, Zoro-san,” Hiyori murmurs, her voice soft “I don’t know what I would do if something happened to you.”

Zoro huffs “I’ll be fine. It’s just a scratch.”

You clench your jaw. A scratch? He was bleeding all over the place earlier, and now he’s letting Hiyori fuss over him like a doting wife? You should be the one doing that, you’re supposed to be his partner in this mission, not her. And after what happened with that Miyamoto man you really started feeling you and Zoro could be closer.

Hiyori dabs a cloth against Zoro’s chest, far too gentle for your liking. You shift uncomfortably, biting back the urge to yank the bandages from her hands and do it yourself.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Toko’s voice snaps you from your thoughts.

You force a smile “Yeah, just tired.”

Hiyori glances at you but says nothing. Instead, she returns to Zoro, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as she continues tending to him. The sight makes your stomach twist.

Over the next few days, things only get worse. The house is small, which means you’re constantly near Zoro, Hiyori, and Toko. And with each passing moment, you feel more like an outsider.

Zoro and Toko have a strange yet adorable bond. She clings to him, calling him “Zorojuro” and making silly faces until he chuckles, something he rarely does. Then there’s Hiyori, who always sits gracefully beside him, laughing at his blunt words, tending to his wounds, and cooking meals as if this is their normal life.

It’s like you’ve walked into someone else’s home.

One evening, after dinner, Toko jumps onto Zoro’s back, giggling “Zorojuro! Carry me like a samurai!”

Zoro grunts but obliges, lifting her effortlessly. She throws her arms out, pretending to fly, while Hiyori watches with a soft, affectionate expression.

“You’re quite good with children, Zoro-san,” she comments “I think you’d make a wonderful father.”

You freeze. The image before you is too much... Zoro carrying Toko like a father playing with his child, Hiyori watching like a proud mother. And then there’s you, sitting in the corner like some outsider who stumbled into their perfect little family.

Zoro scoffs at Hiyori’s words “Not happening.”

Hiyori only smiles knowingly “You never know.”

Something in you snaps. You abruptly stand up, your chair scraping against the wooden floor “I’m going for some air.”

Zoro’s gaze flickers toward you, but he doesn’t stop you. Hiyori, on the other hand, tilts her head curiously “Be careful, Y/N.”

You step outside, taking a deep breath. The cold Wano air stings your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the sting in your chest. Why does this bother me so much?

You lean against the wall, closing your eyes. You’ve faced enemies, fought battles, and endured grueling missions. But somehow, watching Zoro with Hiyori and Toko feels like the hardest challenge yet.

Because for the first time, you’re not fighting an enemy.

You’re fighting the sinking feeling that maybe… you’re not needed here at all.

That night, when you finally return inside, Zoro is awake, sharpening his swords by the dim candlelight. Hiyori and Toko are already asleep, curled up comfortably in the futon. You hesitate in the doorway, watching the flickering light dance across Zoro’s face.

He doesn’t look up, but he speaks “You’ve been acting weird.”

You cross your arms, leaning against the doorframe “Weird how?”

Zoro sets his whetstone down and finally meets your gaze “You keep running off. Snapping at little things. Something bothering you?”

You scoff, shaking your head “Nothing. Just tired.”

His eyes narrow slightly “Bullshit.”

You exhale sharply, rubbing your temples “What do you want me to say, Zoro? That I feel like I don’t belong here? That I feel like I’m watching some perfect little family while I’m just… there?”

Zoro blinks, clearly caught off guard. He sets his sword aside, his gaze unreadable “You think that?”

You gesture toward the sleeping figures “Look at them. Look at you. It’s like you fit into this life so easily. And me? I’m just—”

“An idiot” Zoro interrupts.

You glare at him “Excuse me?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair “You really think I see it that way? Hiyori and Toko are just people I helped. That’s it. And yeah, they’re nice, but they’re not—” He pauses, exhaling heavily “They’re not you.”

Your breath catches “What?”

Zoro leans forward slightly, his voice quieter now “I’m not doing this mission with them. I’m doing it with you.”

His words send a warmth through your chest, but before you can process it, Zoro steps closer, his gaze locked onto yours. The air between you grows thick, and then without another word he closes the distance, pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss is firm, reassuring, yet impossibly gentle. His hands find your waist, grounding you as your heart pounds against your ribs. You melt into him, gripping his yukata as if he’s the only thing keeping you steady.

When he finally pulls away, his forehead rests against yours “That clear enough for you?” he murmurs, a smirk tugging at his lips.

You blink up at him, breathless “Yeah… pretty clear.”

“Go to sleep,” he mutters, picking up his sword again “Stop overthinking.”

You hesitate, but finally, you nod. As you lay down, the warmth in your chest lingers, pushing away the doubts. Maybe you weren’t just an outsider after all.

Maybe you actually had a place here, with him.

The next morning, the atmosphere is tense, but different. You’re still processing Zoro’s words when Hiyori approaches him with a bright smile “Zoro-san, would you like me to prepare your meal first?”

Before you can react, Zoro casually drapes an arm over your shoulder, pulling you closer “Nah. Y/N always eats with me first.”

Hiyori blinks in surprise, her eyes flicking between the two of you “Oh… I see.”

Toko giggles “Y/N and Zorojuro are togeeeeether!”

You feel your face heat up, but Zoro doesn’t let go. Instead, he smirks slightly, squeezing your shoulder just enough to make you relax “Yeah”

Hiyori simply smiles, nodding.

You glance up at Zoro, your heart hammering. He looks down at you with an easy smirk, his fingers gently tracing your back in an absentminded yet possessive gesture. And for the first time in days, you don’t feel like an outsider.

You feel like you belong.

With him.

[kitteninabunker]

cw : gunplay, dubcon (??), semi-public sex, gagging, mentions of death but nobody dies so rest assured, spit, pretty rushed, lil drabble bc i had to write about my man being icky b4 i forgot >.<

“are you gonna be obedient? or should i splatter these pretty little guts all over this wall?”

you don’t know how you got here, and by here, i mean in an alleyway, with your brand new white skirt pooled around your ankles and nearly torn to shreds, your freshly manicured nails digging into the muscular flesh of a strange man who’s stuffing your slick cunt with the shaft of his gun, his index finger is dangerously close to the trigger as his wet tongue peaks out from between his scarred lips to swipe the shell of your ear.

isn’t it just your luck that you ran out of instant ramen tonight, meaning you had to walk outside to the closest convenience store all alone? hey, it isn’t your fault that you’re a broke college student who’s just trying to make ends meet. the news warned civilians of a man lurking on the streets, described as tall, black hair, and incredibly dangerous, but they didn’t mention hot. it just so happens that the same man, serialkiller!toji, has you gagged with your own panties, your back arched, stifling your cries and whimpers so not even the oblivious pedestrians passing by the whole scene know just how much danger you’re in.

you slowly nod your head in compliance, careful and nervous not to make the wrong move just in case this creep decides he wants to end your life with a bullet through your uterus. “good,” toji growls, slowly sliding his gun out of your tight little pussy, leaving it clenching around nothing as he brings the firearm up to his mouth to lick your sweet juices off of it. “j-just take my money, anything!!!!" you’re desperately trying to plead with him, your voice muffled by your panties as tears stream out of your eyes, leaving the makeup on your face streaky. oh, who were you kidding? he clearly didn’t care about robbing some girl for her money, your purse had dropped onto the ground with all of your belongings spilling out when toji grabbed you, your tiny pink pocket book sits there and you want to kick it toward him. there had to be a possibility that money would divert him from whatever he has planned for you, right?

let's say he did wanted to rob you, why would he bother to strip you naked, making you arch your back as the bright red store lights shine down on you beneath the dark nighttime sky, highlighting the curve of your hips and ass, making your slick folds glisten? he's trying to humiliate you, proving he can break any bitch into being his slut.

“i don’t need your money, babygirl.”

dammit.

“you’re gonna give me this tight, virgin pussy.” toji declares, his voice low as goosebumps riddle your skin. “college girls study better whenever they’re bred by big, scary men like me, hm?”

well, it’s not like you’ve ever had anyone’s dick inside of you. his hypothesis could be correct, but you had bigger fish to fry now that the cool barrel of his gun is pressing into your temple, wet with his spit and your own slick. “d—don’t kill me…” a part of you wants to shut your eyes and accept your fate, welcoming whatever is waiting for you in the afterlife, wishing he’d pull that trigger to put you out of your current misery. "scared little lamb.” toji chuckles, retracting the gun from your head as he slides it into his back pocket. “m' not gonna kill you either.”

the confirmation puts you a bit at ease, this totally isn’t how you're gonna die!

toji’s brings his calloused, large hand to rub your soft belly as he holds your waist. he swiftly unzips his pants and tugs them down, before the fabric can even hit his thighs, his fat, mushroom tip hits his abdomen as his cock flings out. he holds the base of his dick, slapping his hard length on your asscheek. you gulp thickly, its not even inside of you, yet you can still sense how bad this thing is gonna stretch you out, you don't know if you're ready for it.

you sharply suck in a breath of air as he moves his dick to slide it between your drooling pussy lips, the aching tip brushes against your clit which makes you arch your back deeper. "a-aaah!" you gasp, and toji quicky slaps his hand over your mouth. “quiet, little one.” he says, lining himself up with your fluttering hole. “don’t wanna get caught out here, now do we?” you shake your head in response, dare you say that you don't wanna get caught bent over by a killer? even if help arrived? toji spreads the bead of precum leaking out of his slit around, mixing it with your slick as his tip prods at your entrance.

then, you feel the burn, the stretch of your hymen as toji slowly pushes his hips forward, his thick pink tip slipping inside of you as you curl your fingers into his skin to grip his arms tighter. "do you want this?" toji asks, leaning his head close to your ear as he kisses it. want what, exactly? a crazy guy fucking you in a dingy alleyway? you'd appreciate it if he would at least buy a motel room, but you can't really complain, or think as his fingers move to your clit and make your brain short-circuit. "yeshhh..." you slur out, already so cock drunk and he hasn't even put his cock fully inside.

toji trusts his hips forward, his entire shaft slipping inside of you as your nails dig deeper into his skin. you forget about the possibility of dying right here tonight, the only thing you can focus on is the way his big cock just feels sooo good inside of you, almost as if you were made to take this psycho's dick. you feel your walls clamping down on toji's cock, molding to it's shape which sends a jolt of pleasure through the both of you.

the slick, wet sounds of your creamy pussy taking him in so deep are the only noise coming from the alley, drowned out by the nightlife in the city as you mewl incoherent babbles as toji keeps fucking you, gripping the flesh of your ass tightly as your plush skin fills the gaps of his fingers. "nnngh—too much..." your soft, whimpering voice escapes your parted lips, your knees tingle, slowly giving up as they struggle to keep you upright.

"you like getting your pussy stretched open by sickos like me?" toji asks, slapping your asscheeks and leaving a stinging red hand print on it. you nod your head, biting down harder on your panties as he fucks you from behind. he doesn't let you adjust to the feeling of his thick cock splitting your pussy open, no, he loves the way that warm, tight mouth between your legs grips onto him so tight, he's only fucking you so he can feel good. "you're taking me in so deep," he groans, his thrust growing sloppier. "no wonder you girls get pregnant so easily."

he spreads your fat cunt apart so he can stuff his cock deeper inside of you, his tip kisses your cervix almost instantly as he bullies himself into your tight heat. his fingers keep rubbing slow circles around your sensitive button, making your soft thighs shut around his wrist. he watches the white ring of your slick bubble at the base of his dick as he slams his hips against your ass, the thick push of pubic hair tickles your skin but turns you on nonetheless.

before you know it, you're cumming, squirting all over toji's dick as he stays inside of you. his finger flicks your clit harder as your juices spray out. you literally see starts as toji grips your jaw tightly to keep your quiet as you reach your high. he pulls out, giving his cunt-juice-soaked shaft a slow pump as he nuts on your lower back, spreading your thick sheet of slick around his tip. you feel the warm spurts of cum hitting your skin, toji wipes some of it up as he brings his finger up to your lips, pulling your panties out of your mouth so you can have a taste of his load.

you tighten your lips around his thick finger, suckling his cum off of them as the pad of his thumb pressed into your clit. "that taste good, baby?" he asks, biting his lip as he grabs your arm to turn you around, grabbing your face as he squishes your lips. "open." you open your mouth, sticking your tongue out as toji leans over your head to land a glob of spit on your tongue. you pull your tongue back into your mouth as you swallow his saliva, he takes your hand and slaps a heavy wad of cash into your palm.

"thanks for the free pussy."

[moonstruckme]

Inspired by this adorable fic by @inkdrinkerworld <3

cw: hospital, mention of surgery, reader has a fear of anesthesia/being unconscious

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 940 words

You wish that stupid heart monitor would stop exposing you to everyone in the hospital wing. 

“You’re fine.” James rubs his palm over your heart consolingly. “Deep breaths.” 

You inhale, and he does it with you, you feel his chest expand against your back. James got into bed with you soon after you got here, when you wouldn’t stop trying to get up and pace the room. After your IV was put in, Sirius threatened to sit on you if you tried to get out of bed again. James is a nicer compromise. 

“This is so stupid.” Your exhale comes out in a disbelieving huff. “I don’t even have to do this.” 

“Dove, you’re already here,” Remus reasons. “You’ve come this far, let’s just see it through. You’ll be alright.” 

Truly, you’re not sure how you wound up here. When your doctor recommended you for surgery, you said you’d think about it, but you were lying. You knew it, your boyfriends knew it, your doctor probably knew it too. Going under was something you had no intention of ever, ever doing. You didn’t know if the problems you were having would persist without the recommended procedure. You almost didn’t care. The one thing you knew for absolutely sure was that you did not want it to happen. 

And yet, it began to. All it took was one evening of lovingly made hot cocoa and sweet-talking from James to get you to set up the appointment. From there, the date marched continually closer, and all your boyfriends had to do was keep you from backing out. To their credit, they’ve had extraordinary follow through. Suddenly you find yourself in a hospital bed waiting for a surgery you could swear wasn’t going to happen. 

“You don’t even have to stay the night,” Sirius says. He’s sitting cross-legged in one of the chairs against the wall, undeterred by the plastic arm digging into his thigh. “We’ll have you home by dinnertime. Focus on that, doll.” 

“I want to be home now,” you mumble. You know you’re acting childish, but you’d rather gripe than cry, and the way you’re feeling those are your only two options. “Are we sure I can’t be awake?” 

“You don’t want to be awake.” James kisses behind your ear. “It’s quite bloody. You’d think it was gross.” 

“Don’t scare her,” Remus cautions quietly. 

You talk over him. “I’d rather be grossed out and know what was happening.” 

Sirius leans forward to grasp your hand, shushing you. “You already know what’s going to happen, baby. We’ve been over the whole thing. Do you want to hear it again?” 

“No.” In truth, hearing about the procedure had grossed you out. But that’s not your main issue. Tears prick your eyes. 

“Hey,” Sirius says softly. His thumb runs over your knuckles. “You’re okay. You’re going to be just fine. Home by dinner, remember?” 

“I just… “ You pull in a wavering breath. “I really don’t like the idea of being unconscious while people poke and prod at me, and I can’t wake up. It freaks me out.”

“No one is going to poke or prod at you.” Remus is leaning his forearms on his knees, eyes honey soft. “It’s a routine procedure. They do it all the time, it’s their job.” 

“I’d just feel better if I could be awake.” 

“It’d be so much scarier if you were awake. This way, you only go to sleep, and the next thing you know it’s done.” 

“That’s the worst part, though. It’s not like I can wake up even if I want to. I’ll be completely helpless.” 

“Sweetheart, no one is going to hurt you.” 

“I know that.” 

“Are you sure?” he asks gently. 

You shut your eyes, tipping your face down as tears start to drip from your nose. 

“Baby,” Sirius coos. His fingers feel cool against your cheek, cupping so he can kiss between your brows. James hugs you tighter. “Oh, shh, shh. I’m sorry you’re so scared, sweet girl. It’s really not so bad as you’re thinking.” 

“Can you come with me?” you whisper. It’s not the first time you’ve asked, but you’re hoping this display of obvious patheticness will sway things in your favor. 

“You know we would if we could, doll. They’re really strict about who’s allowed in the room.” 

You nod, taking in a ragged breath. 

“We’ll be with you until you go in,” James offers, “and as soon as you wake up. You’ll get to meet your anesthesiologist before, too. Her name’s Kara, she’s a sweetheart.” 

That James knows the person trusted with putting you out does comfort you some. He pats your chest with his hand over your heart, gentle and rhythmic. Slowly, it lulls yours into complaisance. Your heart monitor stops its ratcheting. 

“Breathe.” James exhales slowly. “We won’t let anything happen to you. You’re in good hands, angel, I promise.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say, opening your sore eyes. “I know I’m being crazy.” 

Sirius is squatting by your bed now. He tuts, quick to right you. “You don’t have to be sorry. You’re scared, it’s fine. I wish you weren’t because it’d be easier for you, but it’s not your fault.” 

“You’ll feel better once you’re in there,” Remus promises. “Really, lovely, it’s so much less daunting than you’re imagining it to be. It’s going to go by so easily. And then we’ll be with you, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you sniffle. 

“What do you think?” James presses his cheek to your ear, pleasantly warm. “You think you can go an hour without us? You’ll be okay?” 

You make a low, reluctant sound. “Maybe.” 

“There’s our girl.”

[on-the-clear-blue]

I am thinking about, what if Jason, fresh from the grave, actually managed to get to Wanye manor?

Like, some Gothamite stumbles upon this kid in a muddy silk suit, with hands bleeding and bruised, whos hollow looking eyes are filled with tears, trying to draw in weezy breaths and let's out a long desperate whimper that sounds like..."help me"

But instead of running and calling the police because clearly the dead are starting to raise in Gotham and that is like, actually the worst, they notice something, they have seen that face before, fucking hell nearly all of gotham had, maybe a little younger, maybe with a happy smile and a twinkle in his eye even in a black in white photo put out by the newspaper, cus that's the Wayne kid, that's Brucies little boy that got killed.

And they take him home, to the Wanye Manor clearly some bullshit happened, because in Gotham the even the dead arnt allowed to rest it seemed.

Even if nobody ever made it past the front gate, everyone knows where the Manor is, it's the seat of power for like, the most important family in Gotham, criminal or otherwise.

And they feel horrible ringing the gate bell, they would wince because it sounds like a sick joke to just to roll up, and say "I got your dead kid, you want em back?"

Imagine the pain that Alfred has to go through hearing that? Some stranger has just rung in that they have his youngest charge grandson who Alfred personally dressed in his finest to be laid to rest. The same Alfred who did the same for Thomas and Martha, who cried over their bodies in secret just as he did Jason.

He let's the stranger through the front gate, while Master Bruce has a rule against killing, Alfred is more than willing to, and his shotgun is loaded as he watches a older car slowly wind up the long driveway.

He is standing at the door, gun lowered as the stranger pulls to a stop, they don't even look surprised at the gun in the old man's hands, simply nodding at it before heading to the back seat of their car and-

Dear God they dug up his boy, anger pulses through him, the gun raises to shoot down this utter scum before...the body twitches as the stranger speaks to it, gently shaking it and...and Jason blinks awake, a strangled gasp coming from his chest before coughs, and Jason is stumbling out of the back seat.

Alfred can't move for a second, can't think as he sees Jason alive once more, the boys pained expression lessens slightly as he seems to spot thr butler, and a soft, hoarse whisper came from his lips, "A-Alfie..."

Imagine Bruce, drunk beyond the point where it should kill him, laying in Jason's bed, the curtains drawn closed, leaving the room pitch black, the only lights coming from the smattering of glow in the dark stars, done up in constellations across the ceiling, and a small night light by the door.

His son still needed a night light, his darling boy was still young enough to fear the dark, even if it was at an instinctual level.

Bruce felt disgusted by himself, hatred of the pathetic excuse of a man that he was, his son was gone gone GONE.

The lights of his life was gone, and he deserved it, he shouldn't have been so greedy, so selfish to want Dick in his life, so what if Vruce saw himself in the boy, commerserated with the searing pain of his parents, Bruce should have kept the child away, to not allow Dick to become anything like him.

It was good that Bruce was pushing him away, making the wonderful young man Dick turned out to be hate him, Bruce only deserved that, it hurt so much to turn his back on his son, but Bruce couldn't allow anymore of himself to befoul the boy he loved so dearly.

The man longed for another drink but he refused to bring the bottle into Jason's room, he wouldn't desecrate his sons space with something he had hated so much.

It was the only reason Bruce rolled out of the bed, his body felt like lead, numb and dull to the world, and as he opened the door into the hall, he saw him.

There Jason was, yet more to hunt him, his child's phantom back to torment him again.

Mind clouded with pain, Bruce would stumble up to that ghost the figment of his imagination that sought to torment him, stopping only a foot away and falling to his knees, fresh tears sting at the man's eyes. A gutteral sound of agony tearing through him as he wails in sorrow, of a future, a life snuffed out.

Only to be silenced by a weight on his shoulder, followed by a smaller body drapped across his own, the cry of pain was choked out by shock, eyes that shut fly open to see that the phantom, the ghost of his son...was not just a figment of his foul mind.

And Jason's body was not cold, not stiff with rigor mortise, it was warm and soft, the thrum if a weak heart beat pounded across his back where his sons chest was across him.

With shaky hands Bruce would, almost reverently, reach out to touch his son, pulling his hand back as if he was burned went he felt the boys body.

In a moment the man was latched onto the boy, holding onto him as if he let go Jason would fade away and he would lose his son once again.

Of course they run tests, though Bruce is never not in arms reach of Jason, always trying to keep the boy in his eyesight, and went they come back that it really is Jason? That their boy is returned? Bruce clings to his son once more, tears renewed, this time filled with relief not sorrow.

Though sadly, we don't get this, instead after digging himself out of his own grave, Jason gets hit by a car and gets kidnapped by a murder death cult and gets dunked in the evil mountain dew before getting turned against the people that love him, fed lies to fuel his pit madness and then set off on a killing spree of revenge.

[wbbpls]

My Girl

Hi! I’m totally new to this, so I’m sorry if this is all over the place. lmk if you guys like it!

—————————————————————————-

After a tough win, the team gathered in Paige’s room since she is hosting the party. Paige is talking to Ice and KK in the kitchen when Azzi walked in. Azzi is her best friend, who might also be the love of her life. Not that Azzi needs to know that. Of course she’s stunning, even in a crop top and jean shorts. The past few months they’ve been crossing the appropriate lines for friendship with lingering touches and flirty banter.

Across the room, some guy was standing way too close to Azzi. Her Azzi. Paige knows Azzi isn’t hers, but it kills her to think of Azzi with anyone else. That guy keeps leaningt in closer and closer to Azzi. Paige tried to look anywhere else, but her eyes had a mind of their own, and Azzi felt those piercing blue eyes burning into her. When Azzi looked over at Paige, she saw something in her eyes she’d never seen before.

When he put his arm on her waist, Azzi stepped backward uncomfortably. Something took over Paige’s body, and suddenly, she was next to Azzi. Her long arms slid around Azzi’s waist, pulling her in and away from that guy. “Hey Az, sorry I took so long. Here’s your drink.”

Azzi leaned into Paige’s soft yet possessive touch. “That’s okay, I was just talking to, uh, Jake, right?”

Barely acknowledging Paige, he responds, “Yeah, so how about that dance?” Is this Jake guy serious? Paige literally has her arm wrapped around Azzi and she wasn’t even sure of his name. Azzi’s whole body stiffened as she leaned further into Paige. “I’m just gonna hang out with my team, but thanks.” He didn’t seem to care. “Aw c’mon Azzi, I’ll show you a good time.”

“She’s good.”

“I didn’t realize I needed to talk to security first. If you didn’t notice, I was talking to Azzi.”

Paige stepped in front of Azzi, making sure he couldn’t touch her. “If you didn’t notice, Azzi said no. So back the fuck off my girl and get out of my apartment.” It just slipped out, but god, Paige wishes she could call Azzi her girl every day.

“Her girl? You for real, Azzi?”

“Yeah, she’s my girlfriend, so maybe give it up and leave us alone.” Speechless, Jake left quickly to avoid further embarrassment.

“Your girl, huh?” Azzi says as her hands rub up Paige’s biceps.

Paige wrapped her arms entirely around Azzi’s waist as if she’d done it every day of her life. Thankfully, the lights are low, hopefully blocking her blush. “Well, hopefully not his girl.”

“Yeah, definitely not looking to be his girl.”

“You lookin to be someone’s girl?” Paige’s eyes drifted down to Azzi’s lips, moving her hand to rest on her lower back. Azzi bites her lip, “Hm, no longer looking, just waiting for her to get it together.” Paige suddenly couldn’t breathe. Does that mean what she thinks it means? They always avoid these conversations, but the liquid courage is pushing boundaries. Paige can’t say that she’s in love with her. She can’t ruin their friendship and everything they’ve built, but she can’t stop touching Azzi either. “Uh, do you want to go dance?”

“Yeah, P, let’s go dance.” Azzi drops her hands down to Paige’s, and Paige starts to think maybe Azzi doesn’t want to stop touching either. The music feels like an excuse to be way closer than friends should, but it all happens so naturally. When Azzi starts to move her hips into Paige slowly, her breath hitches, and she grabs Azzi even tighter. Paige knows there’s no way they can use being best friends as an excuse anymore. She knows their teammates will tease her about this tomorrow, but it doesn’t matter because she has Azzi in her arms. As the beat speeds up, so do their hips as they grind into each other. A soft whimper leaves Azzi's mouth and Paige can’t help herself, “Fuck Az you’re so hot”

They are now face to face, their lips just an inch apart, and Azzi’s hands are in blonde strands. With a mischievous smirk, Azzi says “Yeah? You think so?”

“You have no idea.”

“Then show me.” Paige has never moved so fast in her life. She drags Azzi through the crowd and to her room. Slamming the door shut, Paige shoves Azzi against the wall with one hand on her waist and the other leaning above her head. “Say it again.”

Looking up at Paige with hooded eyes, Azzi practically whispers to Paige, “Show me.”

Paige leans in, their lips brushing, but not fully touching. “You sure, Az?” There’s no going back after this and Paige is praying they never have to.

“Paige, please. I want to be yours.” Something broke inside Paige, and she kissed her like her life depended on it. She’s dreamed of kissing her a million times over, but this kiss is better than she could have ever imagined. Azzi slightly opened her lips, inviting Paige’s tongue. Their kiss progressively got more passionate. Paige began to kiss down Azzi’s cheek to her neck, sucking and biting just to get Azzi to whimper.

“You wanna be mine, huh?” Paige chuckles and says possesivley as she leaves marks down her neck. Letting out a moan at the words, Azzi grips at the hair on the back of Paige’s neck, “Yes, fuck, P, you feel so good.” Paige slips one of her legs between Azzi’s and moves her hand just under Azzi’s breast. “Tell me what you want.”

Pulling Paige’s head back up to her face, Azzi breathes heavily, “I want to be yours, Paige.” Staring into her eyes, Paige finally says it. “You’re mine, Azzi.” Paige pulls at the back of Azzi’s legs, hinting for her to jump into Paige’s arms. Paige picks Azzi up and shoves her hard against the wall, kissing her even harder. Azzi leans her head back, “Mmh, I want you so bad.” Paige takes this as an opportunity to suck at her neck and grind into her hard. The moan that they both release is borderline embarrassing. Their lips reconnect, and Paige walks them over to her bed. “Fuck Az, you look so good,” she says as she straddles Azzi.

They both start pulling off each other’s clothes and grinding into each other. Paige’s hands are hovering dangerously above Azzi’s jean shorts. “Can I?” Azzi nods her head and pushes Paige’s hand down further. Paige fumbles with the button to her jeans as she kisses down her chest. She slips a finger down to rub at her clit. “Fuck, baby please.”

Paige isn’t sure if it’s the term of endearment or the begging, but she knows she’ll do anything Azzi wants. “Tell me who you belong to.” Paige slips two fingers deep into Azzi.

Azzi is a whimpering mess, with her eyes shut, gripping onto the sheets. Paige loves that she can’t speak, but she needs to hear Azzi say it. “Tell me, mama. Who do you belong to?”

“Yours, I’m yours, Paige, fuck!” Azzi yells out as Paige thrusts deeper into her.

“You’re so fuckin sexy, ma. You’re all mine.” Paige can feel Azzi getting tighter. “Your pussy that wet for me, baby?”

Azzi’s eyes are rolling into the back of her head as she grips onto Paige’s shoulder like her life depends on it. “I’m so close, don’t stop.”

Paige laughs at the idea, like she’d ever stop. “C’mon Az, when have I ever done you like that.“

“Paige I love you but shut up and fuck me” Azzi says breathlessly. Did she mean that or was it just in the moment of a fucked out haze? Paige slowed for a moment but knew she couldn’t stop now. She started to rub Azzi’s clit until her legs were shaking. Azzi came screaming her name as Paige continued to finger her guiding her off her high. Out of breathe, Azzi pushed Paige’s fingers away and pulled her up. Paige is trying to act normal about all of this, but Azzi just said she loved her.

Azzi must have noticed Paige’s hesitation, “What’s wrong, P?”

“You love me?” Even to Paige’s ears she could hear the insecurity. Azzi’s face softened as she rubbed across Paige’s jaw. “Of course I love you. I always have. I just have been too scared to push things and risk losing you.”

Paige starts laughing leaving Azzi confused. “Uh, what’s so funny about that?”

“Baby, I’m so fuckin in love with you and we are so dumb.” Azzi smiles, showing those beautiful dimples. “I guess we deserve each other, hm? Maybe now I can return the favor and show you how much I love you.”

Paige can’t believe this is real. Azzi is her girl.

[reminiscingtonight]

Guilty

Lia Wälti x Russo!Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: Tis the season for sequels. Featuring a lot of Kyra and Alessia and not so much of Lia

[The Thing About Families Masterlist]

You should have known better than to trust her. 

There’s a reason Steph’s always more than happy to drop Kyra off on your doorstep whenever camp’s over.

There’s a reason Mini looks like she’s gained five years every time the younger girl has been granted privileges to “babysit” her two kids. 

You have a million reasons to not trust her yet you did. 

Why did you trust Kyra with the ring?

Your knuckles are nearly white as you drag the young girl into a nearby unoccupied conference room. Kyra’s looking apologetically guilty, but a delirious haze is starting to take over you. It’s a mixture of horror and disbelief, but at the bottom of it all, you feel beyond stupid.

“What do you mean you lost it?!”

Kyra looks like she’s moments away from crying, but you can’t find it in yourself to be compassionate. You can console her later. Right now you need to get to the bottom of this and try to salvage your relationship with your girlfriend first. 

“I swear it was stashed at the bottom of my drawer but it just wasn’t there when I looked this morning.”

“Well where did you put it?”

“I never moved it! Someone must have taken it.”

You pinch your eyes shut, praying to whatever soccer gods that are above that this was just a cruel joke. This wasn’t really happening and you weren’t about to postpone all the plans you’ve spent months working on. “Kyra, I am begging you not to do this. What am I supposed to do? The dinner’s been booked! The restaurant knows I’m proposing!”

“We can get you a new one! I’ll front it, I swear.”

Forget Kyra crying, you’re going to cry. 

“Unless you’re willing to shell out five grand in the next few hours, I don’t think ‘buying me a new’ one will work.”

The young Australian’s eyes bulge out at the sound of how much you spent on Lia’s ring. 

It’s not a well kept secret that you were going to propose. You and Lia have been together for years now, married in every way except for the official one. Wedding plans have already been discussed, from venues to food to the invitation list. The last thing you actually had to do was the actual proposing and getting married parts.

Though with the ways things are going, you’re not sure you’re going to get married anytime soon. 

There’s a knock on the door but you ignore it, pacing back and forth as your mind races. There’s not really much you can do at this point. The place you got Lia’s ring custom made at is already closed at this time of day, and your girlfriend deserves something better than a last minute generic engagement ring. 

A flash of blonde enters your peripheral just as you make your decision.

“Okay. I think I’ve got a plan.”

“Oh I’ve been looking for you guys--”

“Now’s not a good time, Less,” you wave your sister off, not even bothering to pay her any attention. “Okay Kyra, listen closely because I won’t repeat myself.”

The younger girl nods, determination painted all over her features. 

“I’ll cancel the reservations. That’ll buy me a couple days.”

“Guys--”

“Less. Not a good time,” You repeat, shuffling to turn your back to her to ensure Alessia can’t interrupt again. “The jeweler still has the plans I sent him. I can probably get Gio and Luca to lend me some money, but you have to find where you stashed that ring, Kyra. It wasn’t cheap.”

“About the ring--”

“Not now Alessia!” This time your and Kyra’s voices blend together, neither of you willing to give Alessia a minute of your days. 

She lets out an offended huff and you have half a mind to just strangle her right here and now, your mother’s feelings be damned. 

Gritting your teeth you turn around, not really happy to have to find out what your sister wants. She has free reign to bother you at any minute of any day but why was she so insistent on doing so right now? “What could possibly be so important, you impatient piece of--”

You cut off suddenly, eyes doubling in size when you look down at her hands. 

There’s a velvet box clutched between her perfectly manicured nails, the tiny thing sitting there like it’s mocking you for losing your temper earlier. 

“That’s my--”

“The ring! But-- but--”

“Where’d you find it?”

“Oh god, Lessi I could kiss you, you just saved my ass--” Kyra breaks off, something clicking in her brain. “Wait, where did you find it?”

There’s a slight pause as you wait for Alessia’s answer. 

“Err… so funny story.” She blows out a breath of air, trying her best to look nonchalant. “I might have been-- actually Kyra hid…” Alessia fidgets, not liking the crease that was growing deeper and deeper between your brows. “IwantedtoprankKyraaftersheprankedmesoItooktheringthelasttimeIvisited.”

She slams her mouth shut the second the words are uttered, but no one says a word. 

An uncomfortable tension settles into the room and Alessia does her best not to wilt to the ground. 

You stare at her.

Kyra stares at her.

Alessia stares at a spot past your faces, nervously shuffling under the weight of your gazes.

There’s no mistaking icy stare or the clenched jaw that proved you caught every word of her fastball confession. 

“You… What?” There’s an edge to your voice, a tone Alessia rarely was at the end of growing up, but one that she recognizes all the same. The order there is clear, but Alessia’s not so sure she wants to repeat herself out of self preservation.

She shrinks, suddenly wishing she wasn’t so tall. “Um. Well. So Kyra hid my earrings the other day, and I, uh, I thought hiding this would be a funny way to prank her back?” Alessia cringes, not liking the way this all sounds now that she’s saying it out loud. “But judging by the looks on your faces, I’m going to say otherwise.”

Your nose flares but that’s the only response she’s given. 

Kyra looks grumpy, probably the result of taking your misplaced anger from earlier. 

You hold out your hand.

No words are exchanged but Alessia is quick to drop the box into your hand. 

Just as quick as she darts forward to do so, she jumps back, shoving her now empty hands into her pockets. 

“See, no hurt no foul, right?”

Crickets. 

That’s all Alessia hears as she nervously chuckles. 

Neither you nor Kyra have moved, faces giving nothing away. 

At least not until you call the Australian’s name calmly, eyes never leaving your sister’s.

Alessia watches as the two of you slowly peel away from each other. Her eyes keep darting between the two of you, feeling more and more like prey that’s being stalked as the seconds tick by. “Guys, c’mon–”

“Remember how I told you to play nice with my only sister?”

Kyra’s frowning. It’s probably supposed to come off frightening but she looks too much like a kicked dog for it to really do too much.

But the look on your face… yeah, that was intimidating enough for the two of you.

“Forget everything I’ve ever said. I don’t have a sister.”

Alessia gulps.

“Get her.”

She bolts.

[dduane]

In the digital art dep't: a query

Regarding a side issue in this post:

...the kitty is missing from here because the last time I tried to run a dForce simulation on this scene, her fur exploded. (eyeroll) Most unseemly. (Though in retrospect I'm sorry I didn't save a picture. At the time I just went Aaaaaaah feck!, reset the scene and started over.)

The excellent @greggs-mistflower inquires:

Exploded fur as in rubbing balloons on it, or exploded fur as in "doctor, I've never even heard of keratin shrapnel!"?

Well, this is the image before I started the dForce simulation... (Note please that this isn't a high-quality render; for speed's sake I use a lower-quality image in the targeting window, as below. This is also why the Queen's fur comes up in grey instead of black. The textures-only window setting doesn't necessarily render dForce-enabled materials in their proper colors, depending on how their makers have them set up to reduce casual "non-render" processing times.)

...Anyway, this is the image some hours after the simulation started.

...So you tell me. :)

Attempts like this get filed under "Next Time Fail Better". Though it'd be hard to figure out what would fall under "...Fail Funnier."

...It's probably wise to add that this kind of failure almost always has impatience at its root. I was curious to see if I could get the book's page to drape correctly over Freelorn's hand in situ, in the full set, rather than having to export him and the table and book to an empty file to do the animation. Rendering there would put less pressure on my machine's GPU and therefore happen a whole lot faster. But it was late and I thought "Oh what the hell, let's see what happens..."

(grin/shrug) I had it coming. Yet unless you do the experiment, you never know! Well, now I know.

(And it still remains to be seen whether the added page will do the trick I want. Sooner or later I'll find out...)

[fanfic-scribbles]

Flowers For

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Summary: You give Bucky flowers, because friends can give each other gifts and it doesn’t have to mean anything. This time, though, it ends up meaning everything.

Quick facts: Romance – Bucky Barnes/Reader – Nondescript Reader

Warnings: Fluff!, background Steve/Sam/Natasha, everybody’s a little shit

MCU Timeline: Set some nebulous time after CA:TWS (though while I do make allusions to the MCU “Civil War” we’re familiar with…it didn’t happen like that. I mostly just wanted Ned and MJ and Peter around for a cute mention.)

Words: 2787

A/N: I badly needed fluff and this just sort of happened. Enjoy <3

~

Bucky seems…sad, lately.

You don’t know how to explain it. He doesn’t look any different than he normally does. He doesn’t speak any different than he normally does. But there is an air around him that feels almost melancholic, and though most of your other friends treat him the same as always, you do catch Sam and Steve looking at him a few more times than normal, which confirms your suspicions. You just don’t know what to do about it. Sam and Steve are both closer to him than you are. Surely they can fix whatever is wrong, and you should just butt out. …Right?

The first flower is a fluke.

You find it by the curb of the sidewalk. Dropped in a rush, a few of the rose’s petals have been pulled off by whatever event cast it aside in the first place, but it is still overall lush and gorgeous. You pick it up– carefully, because curiously there are a couple of thorns– and dust it off. You carry on to the park where you’re going to meet up with Bucky.

And there he is, looking almost lost as he casts his gaze out to some unknown point. It’s pointless to follow– you get the feeling that, whatever he’s looking for, isn’t even here. And to further cement your worry, he doesn’t even notice you until you’re almost within arm’s reach. He leans back to cover the small flinch, and he smiles at you, in a way that if you were only able to see his eyes you wouldn’t even be able to tell. “You made it,” he says gently.

His focus moves down to your hand and his expression takes on a tinge of curious wonder. It’s not out of place or character– Bucky has a lot of little plants he tends to. Some herbs, a little vegetable seed he’s experimenting with, some–…flowers…

“Whatcha got there?” he asks and tilts his head to one side.

If it didn’t have the thorns, you’d be tempted to put it behind his ear. It would look beautiful– more beautiful. Because it’s him, and he’s the most beautiful person you’ve ever known, inside and out. But you can’t say that. You can’t risk not having him around.

You lift the flower towards him and say, “It’s for you.”

His eyes light up, but he looks between you and the flower a few times. “How come?”

“Just because,” you say firmly, and hold it higher. It feels right, and it feels even more right when he takes it and his face relaxes, showing some of the tired lines of the age that doesn’t yet show, but there’s a small genuine smile that bends the edges of his eyes, and makes your heart bloom into a flower all its own.

~

The next time you meet up, you’re more prepared. Buying a whole bouquet seemed…silly? Too much? But you got what you could find and so most of the flowers are stashed at your apartment, looking pretty in a cup, and you have a select few in hand, tied with a little ribbon you had lying around. The price tag hurt so bad it almost feels insulting these flowers don’t actually have any thorns, but, stupid expensive idea or not, you want to see how this goes.

Bucky is sitting on a ledge outside the museum, shaking his leg absently, but when he senses you nearby, he stops, sits taller, and turns. His eyes go immediately to the flowers and he smiles, but quashes it down almost immediately again.

“Seriously,” he says as you approach and hand them over. His eyes squint at you with some suspicion. “What’s the occasion?”

“Flowers are pretty,” you say without thinking. “And soft. And nice.”

“So why give them to me?” he huffs, derision shading his words as he casts his gaze down again.

You put the flowers in front of him, insistent enough that he finally takes them. “Because they’re pretty, and soft, and nice, and you like them,” you say. And I like you, you think but do not say. And when he lifts them to his face, getting lost in a thought, the soft petals graze his skin, and briefly touch the corner of his lips, and it’s so beautiful you think this is all very, very worth whatever price tag comes with it.

~

But you do find a florist that sells flowers by the stem. You actually find more than one, because, after a few times of coming in, the comments they made were…not mean, no, certainly not, but pointed. And you just can’t deal with that right now. Because Bucky is such a good friend, and he has enough to deal with without also worrying how you’d take his rejection– or, worse, that you’re just another person to want something from him. He’s had so much stress, and pain, and it just doesn’t do to imagine you contributing to more of that. Besides– flowers are, in fact, nice, and pretty, and soft, and fully capable of being utterly platonic.

Even if the way Bucky smiles every time he receives one (or two, or five,) makes your stomach do a flip.

“You know, bringing a fella flowers when you’re out to dinner with him is gonna give people some ideas,” he says, a smirk playing at his mouth as he flips the menu over.

“Not when they see the person giving you the flowers,” you say, trying to match his teasing tone. But as you go for your menu, he catches your hand. You stop and look at him. He stares at you for a few moments that almost make you squirm, but then he lets go, his hand sliding slowly, (so wonderfully slowly), away from yours.

“Then they’re idiots,” he says decisively, as if daring anyone to actually say that to his face. He even scowls a bit and looks around. Before you can apologize for your bad joke, he adds, “No one talks to my bestie like that,” and goes back to his menu.

It surprises a laugh out of you, and he’s smiling again. “We might need to cut down on your hangout time with Peter,” you say, and pick up your menu for real this time. You can still feel the ghost of his hand on yours, and you savor the memory of it. He doesn’t…touch, like that. It was nice.

“MJ,” Bucky says. He glances at you a few times and pulls some of his hair behind his ear. “She helped me cut my hair.”

“She did a great job,” you say earnestly. It’s not super short, still falling down enough he could ostensibly put it in a tiny ponytail, but it had been getting quite long, before. While it had looked nice, supplying one with many fantasies of running fingers through the full length, or braiding, or– …well, ultimately, you know the maintenance of it had annoyed him, and that’s what really matters.

“I want it shorter, but this was as much as I could manage,” he admits. He brightens. “Those are good kids.”

He tells you about his day, and how the three-man “Spidey-crew” somehow made an absolute wreck of one of Tony’s training rooms despite only one of them actually being enhanced, and as much as you’re riveted by the story, you can’t help but notice how Bucky’s right hand keeps drifting over to pet the flower petals throughout the night.

~

“Hey.”

You look up– and squint at Steve. You don’t know exactly what that look on his face is, but you know trouble when you see it. Not bad trouble, like someone’s dying, but that Captain “The Biggest Little Shit In The World” America is going to make trouble. “Hey,” you say cautiously. You look around. You’re supposed to be meeting someone else today. “Is Bucky okay?”

“He’s doing great,” Steve says, and there it is– that grin that means you are going to regret whatever comes out of his mouth next– about zero point three seconds before he adds, “He seems to be collecting enough flowers to be able to open his own shop though. Don’t suppose you know anything about that?”

“Mm, no,” you say, because Steve Rogers is not the only little shit in the area. God, at this point Bucky practically collects them.

“Interesting,” Steve says, with a little too much…well, interest.

You bristle. “What?”

“Nothing,” Steve says, feigning innocence. “I just said it’s interesting.”

“And what would your boyfriend think about that?” you ask. You then try not to actually think about what Sam would have to say about it.

Of course, you don’t get away that easy. “He’s also wondering when you’re going to make an honest man out of Bucky,” Steve says, dropping the pretense.

You scowl. “He already is an honest man.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Steve says, gently, but…it’s true. He’s the one who took on the world for him. And won. “Hey,” he says and sits next to you. “It’s fine, just…you know Buck’s going to wonder about all this.”

You swallow. “He won’t bring it up,” you say. You hope. “Even if he kn–… He wouldn’t want to hurt my feelings.” He’s so good. He’s too good.

“He might also not bring it up because he’s as afraid of rejection as you are.” Steve squeezes your shoulder, then stands. “But from here on, it’s not up to me– it’s up to the two of you.” You don’t even get a chance to fully absorb all that before he adds, “That said, you should be more concerned about what my girlfriend thinks about all this.”

You immediately feel your blood go cold.

~

The knife of Natasha hangs silently over your head. Silently, because she made sure to stop by just to stare at you a little too intensely and a little too long. At this point, you’re not sure who’s actually more protective of Bucky– Steve or Natasha. You’re pretty sure the latter is the scarier of the two, though. Only pretty sure though, because Steve probably only backed off because he knew she was going to step in.

You sigh, and watch the rain fall outside your window. Maybe you never should have– but, no, you can’t bring yourself to regret it. It made Bucky happy. It makes Bucky happy. Overprotective friends or not, it’s worth it.

…And if you do get dead and buried, you’ve probably bought enough flowers for Bucky that he won’t even have to buy any arrangements.

There’s a knock at your door and you scramble up, but at the quiet, familiar, “It’s me,” you relax again. And then you scramble to go hit the light. Bucky can’t see you yet so he doesn’t know you’ve been brooding in the dark, but it suddenly feels a lot sillier, all told. Then you answer the door, and he’s smiling, and oh boy, you really are in trouble, aren’t you.

“I got something for you,” he says, and unzips his jacket, bringing out…

…A small bundle of flowers.

You freeze. You should have expected this– Bucky is the kind of guy to get and then give in equal (or more) measure, but there’s something about Bucky, with his nice new haircut, showing up at your door, giving you flowers, that makes your heart ache. But the longer you stand there, the more his smile starts to wilt, until he finally says your name in such an uncertain tone that you snap out of it.

“Thank you. They’re beautiful,” you say, and take them to go get a tall cup or something to put them in.

He breathes a sigh of relief and starts pulling off his jacket and shoes. “Thank God; I wasn’t sure what kind of flowers you like, but I put those together and they just felt right, you know?”

You nod agreeably, even though you think if Bucky showed up with them half-rotted and smushed with most of their petals gone, you’d still have been equally choked up. “You didn’t have to do that,” you say gently and turn to face him, and oh, he is suddenly very, very close.

“I wanted to,” he says, and doesn’t back down. His eyes flick from place to place, though, and he swallows. “Just…because. That’s good enough, right?”

“It is,” you agree, because it is, and you stand by that. But the way Bucky is looking at you is searching, and you feel your chest clench. What is he looking for. Did Steve snitch. Natasha wouldn’t (she loves leverage a little too much for anyone’s full good) but if you have to kill Captain America for being a bitch you will–

“What if it wasn’t just because,” he blurts out. And there’s no other way to describe it; the words fall right out of his mouth like they didn’t even mean to. But you both freeze, and Bucky stands tall, and he doesn’t take them back. He looks right at you and says, “What if…what if they meant something?”

It’s so quiet. Rain pats against glass in waves, but even it is softer now, and you swallow. “What would…they mean?”

And, because there is no hiding the hope in your voice, Bucky relaxes, and once again becomes the kind of person who would look at an angry chihuahua of a man and think befriending him was a good idea. “Well,” he drawls, leaning into you more, but your lower back is against the counter and he rests his hands on it, on either side of you. “It’s not your birthday…it’s not a holiday…”

“And what kind of holiday would you get me flowers for?” you ask, deadpan, because he– he wouldn’t actually make fun of you for this. He’s not that cruel. So this has to be going one place, and you think you know what it is.

Right?

“Valentine’s Day?” he suggests. But his eyes are intense, and for a few moments neither of you say anything, but his mouth is right there, and yours opens just a bit in a Pavlovian response you absolutely should not have but that you desperately want a reason to develop.

“Seems like that might be kind of a statement,” you say softly. You swallow again. “If you. Did that.”

“Yeah?” he asks and leans in, somehow, impossibly closer.  “Maybe I just wanted you to have something nice. And soft.”

His lips are almost touching yours, so close, so close. “Maybe I’d like something else,” you say, more breath than words, and then there he is, there he is closing the distance at last and his lips are on yours and your lips are on his and his chest presses hard against yours and the counter is digging into your back. But his arms wrap around you, and no flower petal can hold a candle to his lips, you think deliriously, wrapping your arms so tight around him that if you had enhanced strength, you think you’d crush him. His lips are mostly soft, but you can feel the little ridges, a hint of a split that must have happened in training this morning, and his tongue and yours. When you finally separate, it’s slow, and while you both take a moment to breathe, you try to wrap your head around…all of this.

“Man,” you murmur. “If I knew all it would take is some flowers…”

Bucky lets out a hoarse laugh, and passes the tips of his fingers gently across your cheek. “What can I say?” He smiles, and it makes his eyes crinkle. “I’m a cheap date.”

You smile too, and say, “We’ll see about that.”

~

When you go to meet with Bucky for your first official date, you bring flowers– and so does he. He hands you your little bindle, but you go about sticking your selection right in his coat breast pocket– and find something familiar about the new broach he has. It’s a little pin containing three rolled dried rose petals in resin, it looks like.

“Is that…” you ask, and he nods.

“I wanted to keep it,” he says, and adjusts the fresh flowers in his pocket. You didn’t plan it like this, but they look so perfectly at home, and when he smiles at you it nearly makes your knees weak. “You look amazing,” he says, gently, and holds out his hand. “Shall we?”

In one hand you hold firm stems and soft petals. Your other hand, you slide into his– against skin calloused and creased and warm and, despite all of its supposed imperfections, better than any flower could ever hope to be. You grip tight, and say, “We shall.”

~

[rcvcgers]

Hello, I wanted to tell you that I love your writing. Rotten Apples has been my favorite. I was wondering if you could write something with a super caring Caleb?

I had a rough night with lots of tears and self doubt, lots of feelings of self hate and a lot of ugly feeling I’ve targeted myself with and I wish I had Caleb to soothe me. My heart aches and I need a hug from him.

i'm so sorry you had a rough night darling :( i hope you were able to feel better! i wrote this for you as soon as i saw your request. i hope it helps you feel better <3

Here For You

pairing: caleb x reader

synopsis: you've isolated yourself from the world and your boyfriend comes to comfort you.

word count: 3.08k words

content warnings: self deprecation, self doubt, bad/negative thoughts

author's note: i hope this request can help whoever reads this feel better <3 just know that you are so, so, so loved and deserve all of the good things in the world!

For the past few days, you’ve unintentionally isolated yourself from from the world. The first day the negative thoughts entered your brain, you acted as if everything was okay, that you were on top of the world. But seeing everybody else’s smiles and hearing their joyous laughter began to weigh down on you.

You wanted to be supportive of your friends and celebrate their achievements, but it was so hard to put a fake smile on your face and pretend to be excited. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t help but feel so…dull. To feel so dead inside that at moments you doubted that your existence was real. You want to be so happy, to bask in the joy of positive emotions and affirmations, and yet whenever you try, your stupid mind had to drag you back into the darkness.

You used the excuse of being sick to get out of dinner parties and hanging out. You even used a few of your sick days to get off from work, leaving your team scrambling to fill the void of you being gone.

Had life always been so hard? Why couldn’t it give you a break? Even just for one day, you wish to have some kind of release from the depression that has sunk into your body.

It’s not your fault that life is so unforgiving. Things happen, many of which are out of your control, but why did it have to affect you so badly? Did it really need to cause such chaos that uplifts you from acting like a normal person? Fuck, you haven’t even managed to shed a single tear since the negative thoughts hit your mind.

You stare at your bedroom’s blank ceiling. The sun had disappeared from the sky, its once vibrant oranges and pinks decorated your walls and ceiling, but now you were left with a deep gray color with only moonlight illuminating your room.

This had been your routine for the past week. You’d rot in bed, staring out the window as life passed you by. You watched birds flying, their freedom making you even more depressed, and watched as the sun and moon played a game of cat and mouse with each other, chasing after the other as the sky changes colors. Was it a routine you have grown bored of? Yes. Of course. But you couldn’t bring yourself to change out of it.

You wished your boyfriend was here. Caleb always knew what to do and say to help you feel better. You can’t even put some of the blame on him for not being here. His job yanked him away for a last minute patrol in the Deepspace Tunnel.

According to Caleb, it was the Fleet’s first time exploring this part of the Tunnel. You were so proud of him! The Fleet finally recognized his amazing talent and put him as the new supervising Colonel of Deepspace Exploration. He deserved it! He’s worked so hard for an opportunity like this to show up. 

Yes, you knew that it would take him away for weeks at a time. If not from the actual exploring itself, Caleb will be buried in paperwork, meetings, and flight schedules.

You should have taken him up on his offer to stay in his apartment in Skyhaven. Maybe then you would have been able to see him during your dark days and he can be the hand that pulls you into safety from the storm. Instead, you opted to stay behind in Linkon, claiming that your friends and work will keep you busy!

If only you knew that the day after he left things would go oh so wrong.

Linkon wasn’t so bad, though. The sunlight was good for your mood instead of the gloomy days that Skyhaven has. The sunlight helped motivate you to get out of bed to brush your teeth and shower, but that was about it.

A sigh leaves your lips. You roll onto your side, your gaze falling back outside the window. Planes fly by in the night sky, leaving off-white trails of exhaust behind them. A wave of sadness hits your stomach while you watch the planes.

A part of you wishes that Caleb is on one of those planes…that he’s coming home to see you.

No. Why would he? He has his new promotion with the Fleet. He can’t waste any time on trivial things…including you.

You flinch from the thought. Squeezing your eyes shut, you curl up into a ball, your knees pulling up to your chest. Why did these thoughts have to torment you? You know that Caleb would give up everything to come see you, so why do you always have to be so anxious that he’s going to leave you?

You know it’s the imposter syndrome talking, but you know that you’re counting the seconds until Caleb realizes that you aren’t worthy of his time, adoration, and love. You’re a semblance of a girlfriend, someone who snuck into such a prestigious position in his life. He deserves so much better than you. Hell, he deserves someone who is just as high of a rank he is! Another Colonel, maybe, or perhaps someone who he works with so he can see her everyday.

“Pipsqueak?” You freeze. The sweet nickname he has for you sends chills down your spine. The bedroom door creaks and the sound of faint footsteps draws near. You are quick to pull the bed’s sheets over your body and head, covering the sight of moonlight and the dark night sky.

The mattress dips and you feel a large hand rest on your side. It travels up and down, cascading the side of your covered body. You shudder from the touch, knowing that you’re unworthy of such affection.

“Baby? Are you okay?” Caleb asks. He reaches for the top of the sheets, drawing them away from your face. You feel the chilled air of the bedroom hit your face. You flinch and grab the sheets back from him, covering your face once again. “Hey…what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

“I’m fine…I’m just really tired,” while it isn’t necessarily a lie, you know it’s simply an excuse that he’ll see right through as he usually does. You listen to his slow exhale,, heart pounding inside your chest.

This is it. This is the moment where he finally realizes how much of a loser your are. You can’t even bring yourself to fully greet him when he comes home from work, what kind of partner are you?

“I’m,” you fake a cough, “I’m sick.”

“You’re sick?” Caleb repeats. Your heart twists inside your chest. Your eyes sting from the turmoil that bubbles inside your stomach.

“Y-Yeah…you should go back to Skyhaven so you don’t catch anything.”

You hated how easy it is to lie to him. To push him away from you.

Caleb doesn’t respond. Goosebumps spread across your body, suddenly feeling cold as you sick and twisted imagination slowly turns into a reality.

Did he finally realize that you’re nothing more than a nuisance to him?

“Hey…look at me,” Caleb coos. Your grip weakens on the sheets. The fabric slips through your fingers, eyes watching as the moonlight returns to your gaze, your handsome boyfriend sitting beside you with a look of worry, brows knitted together, bottom lip slightly pouted out.

Your heart breaks. It shatters into a million little pieces. It’s because if you that he looks this way, that he’s probably worried over nothing. Tears brim your eyes. Caleb sighs and his shoulders relax, watching as you slowly sit up in bed.

You sniffle and wipe your nose with the back of your hand. Your bottom lip trembles. The man reaches out and cups your face.

His touch is so gentle against your skin. Warmth seeps into your skin but it only makes you feel worse. Your body begins to shake. Caleb’s violet eyes scan your body, gently wrapping his free arm around your back. He pulls you into his lap with such ease, guiding your legs to rest on his sides, placing your full weight onto him.

Your melt into his touch, arms wrapping around sides, fingers curling into his shirt, tugging on the material. You bury your face into his neck, the tears finally leaving your eyes.

“It’s okay…I’m here now, let it all out.”

And you do. Sobs escape your body. Your body shakes and you push into him, the man gently running his hand up and down your back, soothing you. He holds the back of your head, securing you to his body. Your tears stain his t-shirt, soaking it with your salty tears.

You shake your head, unable to control how tight you hold onto him. His scent is so comforting to you, your nose burying into the warm skin of his neck to get more of it. It calms your nerves alongside his light and comforting touch.

“I’m so sorry,” you choke the words out, “I don’t know why I’m like this.”

“Never apologize for how you feel, my love,” Caleb gives you a gentle and reassuring squeeze. You sigh and peel your face from his neck, finally getting a good look of him.

He wears the biggest frown on his face as he pushes stray hairs out of your face. Your cheeks are stained form your tears, eyes red and swollen form the onslaught of sibs that overtook your body. Caleb runs his fingers up and down your sides.

“Breathe with me, okay?” Caleb asks. You nod in sync with him. He places his hand over your chest, feeling your heart pounding from inside your ribcage.

The two of you inhale for a couple seconds then hold the breath, your lungs full of oxygen, then slowly exhale. Under Caleb’s touch, he can feel your heart come to a slow and steady beat. A small smile spreads across his face, his purple eyes meeting yours.

“I’m so proud of you,” Caleb whispers. He leans in and presses a light kiss to your forehead. You sigh and rest your hands on his chest, flattening out some of the wrinkles in the fabric. You stare at the wet spot on his clothes and frown, feeling absolutely horrible that you ruined his clothes. “What’s wrong, baby?”

Your gaze floats back to his, his hands firmly holding onto your waist. You sigh and look away, unable to weave words together to form a rational sentence that doesn’t make you look, well, crazy.

How can you explain to your boyfriend that your mind has caused so much chaos and turmoil? That it has you believing that you aren’t good enough for anyone in the world, especially him. That he deserves so much better than what you have to offer him.

“Hey,” Caleb’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts. He cups your cheek and swipes away a single tear that rolls down your cheek. “Stop thinking. Clear your mind.”

You nod and slowly inhale, needing to calm down your fast beating heart. Your mind doesn’t clear, though, and only becomes more and more loud as the thoughts of self doubt and negativity scream at you.

“What are five things you see?” Caleb asks.

“What?” You’re taken aback by his question. He squeezes your hips.

“Tell me five things you see. Be descriptive.”

“Um…okay,” you breathe out. Your eyes leave his as you scan the room. You turn in his grip, looking out the window behind you. “I see the moon. It’s big and yellow tonight. Looks like cheese.”

“That’s one.” You feel Caleb press a gentle kiss to your shoulder. You turn back around, heart fluttering.

“I see my desk. It’s…really messy. I should clean it up.”

“That’s two…and I’ll clean it for you tomorrow. What else?”

“Through the bedroom door, I can see the kitchen light is still on. I see…I see bags on the counter, too.” You look at Caleb, his thumbs slowly rubbing small circles into your skin under your shirt. “I see the most beautiful purple eyes, too.”

“Oh?” Caleb raises his eyebrows, smiling at you. You nod. He kisses your cheek and you melt into him yet again. “Ready to tell me what’s wrong now?”

“I don’t know what’s wrong, Caleb,” you breathe out, slowly growing frustrated. You press your forehead against his and squeeze his shoulders. “My mind just…hates me. I don’t know what happened, but an overwhelming sense of dread came over me and…and I began to hate myself,” your voice cracks. 

Tears return to your eyes and Caleb is quick to wipe them away. You manage to keep your breathing in check, making sure to not lose the sense of calm that soothes your aching body. Your glaze flickers back to Caleb’s and you sigh, gnawing at the inside of your cheek.

“I don’t know why I’m like this,” your voice is just above a whisper. “You don’t deserve to go through this…you deserve someone who’s normal and good enough.”

“No,” Caleb immediately shakes his head. His own eyes become glossy from your admission. “Don’t you ever say those words ever again, do you understand?”

Your brows furrow, meeting in the center. Your hands slip from his body but he takes them back, placing them back onto his chest. He moves his head to meet your fleeting gaze, capturing your attention. He places his finger under your chin, turning your face back forward.

“I love you…I love you so much more than you can ever imagine. If anyone here isn’t deserving, it’s me. I don’t deserve to be in a relationship with you because you, my love, are lightyears better than I will ever be.”

“Caleb…” you breathe his name out. You hang onto every word he says, heart swelling.

“You are the most beautiful woman to ever exist. I love your smile, your laugh, and the way you always make me happy. I also love you when you aren’t feeling good. I love you and your frown and the way you manage to look so beautiful while crying…you’re the one for me. Nobody else,” he pulls your hand over his heart. You can feel just how hard and fast it pumps inside his chest.

“You don’t mean that…”

“Of course I do. From the first moment I met you, I knew that you were the one for me. On that day, I swore to myself that I would do everything in my power to protect you, to keep you safe…it pains me to know that I couldn’t protect you from yourself. I’m so sorry,” his voice cracks.

His grip on you tightens. His touch and words are so reassuring that you manage to push away the dark thoughts that linger in your mind.

Caleb loves you. He loves you so much. It is evident in the way he holds you, the way he kisses your tears away. You can feel it in the warmth that radiates from his body. Caleb makes you feel so worthy of his love, his adoration.

“Everyone has bad days,” he tilts his head to the side, his gaze deepening, “and that’s okay. It’s normal to have a bad week. It’s normal to want to crawl away and disappear. It’s okay to cry and to ask for help when it feels like you’re drowning,” Caleb coos. “Please…please tell me when you need help. I will always be here to pick you up off your feet. I will always be here to carry the weight that forms on your shoulders. I will do anything for you if it means that I get to see you smile again…that I get to live under the sunlight of your beautiful soul. I love you.”

“I love you too, Caleb,” tears roll down your cheeks. They’re bittersweet, formed from both sadness and joy.

The darkness that settled in the back of your mind vanishes. You can feel the weight leave your chest, opening up your lungs for more air to get in, to nourish your body. Caleb pulls you close to him, burying his face into your neck. His lips scrape across your skin, leaving a trail of sweet and gentle kisses in his wake.

His fingers slip under your shirt. The sensation of his skin against yours leaves you feeling so fulfilled. You love the way he treats you, how he always makes for sure that you know just how loved you are. He takes care of you. It’s so much more than you could have ever asked for.

What did you do to deserve a man like Caleb?

“Have you eaten yet today?” Caleb asks. You shake your head no, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, bringing him closer into your embrace. “Come on, I stopped at the store on the way here. Let me make you some dinner.”

Caleb picks you up with ease. You gasp and cling to him, a quiet laugh escaping your lips. His head shoots out from your neck, eyes wide as a big smile flashes across his face.

“You laughed!” He swoons, leaning back in to attack your face in more kisses, leaving no part of your face untouched. You close your eyes and shriek, more and more giggles fleeing from your lips while he carries you to the kitchen. “My pip-squeak is laughing! She’s happy again! My babygirl has come back to me!”

“Stop being do dramatic, Caleb!” Your laughter melts away the sadness in your heart and mind. You feel light again, ready to take on the world with Caleb at your side.

“Okay! Okay!” He laughs and pulls his face out from your neck. Caleb beams at you, setting you down on the cold countertop. You gasp and he’s quick to pull you up, resting his hands underneath your legs to protect you from the icy counter.

“What?” You ask, waving your hand in front of his face. He shifts his weight between his feet and leans in, pressing a kiss to your lips. You lean into him and kiss him back, butterflies erupting your chest. He slightly pulls away, lips grazing over yours, foreheads pressed together.

“I love you, pip-squeak, but I am going to need my hands for cooking,” he chuckles.

“I love you too...can I be your sous chef?”

“Are you kidding? Of course you can be my sous chef! Who else would I want by my side?”

[randomfandomworks]

Caleb x Reader

Word Count: 1.2K

Pronouns Used: (You/Your) (occasional use of feminine titles such as Mom or Mother)

Warnings: Mentions of Pregnancy and Birth (only mentioned, not heavily described)

A/N: The Domestic Caleb brainrot got the better of me, not disappointed though just realizing I probably should have gone to bed earlier instead of proofreading (the proofreading did literally nothing, I suck at proofreading)

Dad!Caleb who will love his kids either way but expects a son to be his first, one he can raise to be as protective as him.

Dad!Caleb who’s eldest turns out to be a daughter, a daughter who just so happens to get his protectiveness and her mothers attitude and skills.

Dad!Caleb who spends plenty of time outside with her either training or helping her climb the apple tree you two had planted years ago when you moved into the house.

Dad!Caleb and his matching haired daughter coming inside with their arms overflowing with apples, big, proud grins on their faces.

Dad!Caleb who spends extra time with you in the kitchen preparing a number of different classical and creative apple dishes with your freshly picked fruit.

Dad!Caleb, who never stops wearing the necklace you got him, though it’s a bit worn now, and notices the interest your daughter takes in it.

Dad!Caleb who a few days later gifts your little girl a matching necklace, it’s a bit smaller and changed but her face lights up either way knowing she’ll be matching with her Dad.

Dad!Caleb who is overjoyed when you announce your second pregnancy to him, a secret you and your daughter had kept well hidden until the right time, she had already turned into your partner in crime.

Dad!Caleb who is perfectly willing to give up his office as a nursery but gets more than disappointed when you have to take down his model plane collection, having no where else to put it, it ends carefully stashed in a closet.

Dad!Caleb who can’t help but side eye or glare at anyone who assumes he’s hoping for a boy, as if he wouldn’t want another girl, especially one with your traits.

Dad!Caleb who is still overjoyed regardless, yet visibly more stressed, when you learn that your having not one but two boys in the coming months.

Dad!Caleb who will spend a later half of the night staying up and laughing with you as you both come up with the most outrageous baby names, both of you trying and struggling to keep quiet as your daughter rests peacefully, tucked in by him a few rooms away.

Dad!Caleb who is by your side for every struggle and smile just as he always has been.

Dad!Caleb who can’t wipe the proud grin on his face until at least a week after your boys are delivered.

Dad!Caleb who softly introduces your daughter to her brothers, teaching her gently her new responsibility of keeping them safe as the oldest but reassuring that they can always come to him if it ever gets to be too much.

Dad!Caleb who easily carries both of his boys out of the hospital, a drastic change to how uncoordinated he first was when they were both born a few days ago.

Dad!Caleb who will instantly and silently handle nights with the babies, allowing you to tuck your daughter in and rest yourself instead of stressing yourself unnecessarily.

Dad!Caleb, who is the first person your daughter turns to after school, reading her new book to him as he cradles one of his boys in his arms, reminding you of how he used to bounce her and read to her quietly when she was her brother's age.

Dad!Caleb who is excited every day your children grow more in their personalities.

Dad!Caleb who makes the cutest individual cakes for your son's first birthdays, not minding at all as they end up smearing his work over their faces.

Dad!Caleb who makes those individual desserts a tradition for the two boys as they grow up, and makes sure to put just as much effort into whatever your daughter wants as well.

Dad!Caleb who gets the most boyish grin on his face when one of your sons discovers the model planes he had tucked away ages ago, model planes he now happily unboxes and helps his son put up as he gains an intense interest in them.

Dad!Caleb with one boy who gains his curiosities about aircrafts and your smile and jokes, and another who has the ambition of your daughter, derived from you both, but not the skill and is an amount of clumsy that neither of you are sure who belongs to.

Dad!Caleb with a daughter who is adventurous and loves to read, a son who will happily spend hours with a puzzle or memorizing new facts, and another who will trip over his own feet but can beat both of his parents at a claw machine.

Dad!Caleb who spends time picking and reading new books to his little girl, who will sit outside and use his Evol to make his son’s model planes fly, and who will teach his other little boy all of the tricks to different claw machines leaving them time and time again to clear out the plushies, a gift they will both give to you as soon as they get home.

Dad!Caleb who never forgets an important date from birthdays and anniversaries to things as small as school meetings or performances.

Dad!Caleb who is more than busy but will never miss anything important to any of his kids, and would never dare miss anything important to you.

Dad!Caleb who will make time for his entire family, but especially makes sure there is time for you two.

Dad!Caleb, who will bring you flowers after work just because the idea crossed his mind, and makes sure to pick up a small bouquet for your daughter as well after seeing her reaction the first time.

Dad!Caleb who wakes up every morning to make his family breakfast and will bring yours to you in bed, allowing you two a few more minutes of quiet together before you both get all of them ready for school.

Dad!Caleb who loves movie nights with the whole family as much as date nights between just the two of you.

Dad!Caleb who will continually surprise you with new ideas, dates, recipes, you name it.

Dad!Caleb who will ruffle your children’s hair just as he ruffled, and still ruffles, your own

Dad!Caleb who knows how much you appreciate photos and will drastically add to your collection of your family.

Dad!Caleb who will add every photo of you all that he has to your never ending collection besides one, one of all four of his favorite people asleep on the couch together. Breakfast is long forgotten on the coffee table, a movie your kids just had to see is playing in the back, and they’re all cuddling into you somehow. Each peacefully sleeping and just as at home against you as he has been, just another thing they inherited from him.

Dad!Caleb who quietly keeps this photo in his wallet, looking at it whenever he needs, reminding himself day in and out what everything he does is for.

Dad!Caleb who knows you can both struggle with keeping up with your kids but will make sure it never falls entirely to you.

Dad!Caleb who loves his family more than anything, but has always loved you first and will continue to love you more than anything, and make sure you know it if you ever seem to forget.