#or at least not paying yet. maybe in a month or so i might just buy it so i can keep showing my brother more seasons

[silkscream]

you're an angel, i'm a dog

ੈ✩ megumi fushiguro x reader

ੈ✩ synopsis: megumi comes home to you.

ੈ✩ tags: fem reader (gets called a girl and wears lingerie), established relationship, fingering, unprotected sex, teasing, mentions of masturbation, megumi is bad at feelings

ੈ✩ wc: 2.5k (what the fuck)

ੈ✩ a/n: its me n megumi n the dog metaphor against the world sorry. yes like the mitski song. could be considered a part 2 of this

Your heart beats faster as you fix the blanket atop the couch. Your mind is calm, but your body isn’t, as if anticipating his return.

Megumi is coming home today.

It’s been less than a week – maybe four days. You weren’t counting. You insist. But he said that it would only be two days.

You feel tense upon his return since things had gone sour the last time you spoke. You were being clingy again, overbearing. Sometimes you wanted to stitch yourself to him and he couldn’t take it.

Your blood stills when you hear the knob to the door of his apartment jiggling. You stayed there often instead of your dorm – he gave you a key. 

He’d let you move in if it was an easier process. The apartment was in Gojo’s name, but it’s mostly Megumi’s. He wasn’t going to get your name on the lease to the apartment Gojo paid for. He wouldn’t, not now, at least. Megumi felt crazy for even thinking about it when you’ve only been official for six months.

He unlocks the door and steps inside, a thinly veiled cloud of irritation surrounding him from having to deal with Gojo post-mission. His eyes land on you on the couch, wearing a new lingerie set.

You think you see his eyes widen in surprise for a fraction of a second. He schools it back to a facade of stoicism as quickly as his expression of desire leaves.

“Hey,” you say softly.

“Hey,” he mutters. 

You ask him about his mission and he tells you. It’s like pulling teeth to get him to talk about anything so openly that you get to see his feelings, so you take in every expression he makes like it’s something intimate. Maybe for him, it is.

He’s short with his responses. Eyes looking everywhere but you.

“You okay?” you prod.

“Yeah… just, uh–” he exhales and glances at you before looking away. “Distracted.”

“Distracted?” you snort. “Does that mean my efforts of seducing you are paying off?”

His brows raise slightly at your boldness, a faint blush dusting over his cheeks. “Perhaps.”

“C’mon,” you pout. “Is that all you have to say?”

He exhales and properly looks at you this time. You’re wearing a mix of satin and lace – all a sage green, just a touch lighter than the color of his eyes right now. He’d blame it on the dim lighting, but his black pupils are swallowing up his irises, his eyes looking dark forest green from afar.

A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of Megumi's lips. "Alright," he says, feigning a tone of aloofness. "I suppose you look... tolerable."

You scoff. “Tolerable?”

“Yes, tolerable,” he chuckles. “Some might even say pretty.”

“Does that include you?” you mumble.

“Yes. Of course, it does.”

He says it kindly. Like throwing a dog a bone.

It’s funny how much you’re trying. You’re almost as quiet as him, though more eager to come out of your shell around your friends. He liked that you thought this would be a grand gesture instead of telling him you missed him. He’ll tease it out of you anyway. You think you’re doing the same to him.

In bed, you’re often wet-eyed, pouty. Pliable. You don’t know how to ask for what you want, thinking that Megumi must not want you as much as you want him. It’s cute. He can always tell when you’re horny by the way your hands fidget around him. How your stares linger with suppressed longing.

Megumi knows because he’s just like you. He’s just more attuned. He won’t tell you, not directly, but he also likes to tease you a little.

It shouldn’t get him hard, the way you want him so desperately yet try so hard to contain it. You think it would disgust him, but in reality, he wants you even more. It’s beyond disgust or dignity at this point.

He supposes it’s the sense of control he craves. You tease him often for being a control freak and for being so serious during missions. He can’t help it — his technique forces him to be a leader, herding around his shikigami. His Divine dogs adore him.

He notices that, like them, you are eager to please.

You look at him sheepishly, embarrassed of the elaborate display of your body. You don’t feel like you’ve won anything even though he called you pretty. Technically.

Megumi’s eyes soften when he realizes how easily you’re giving up. 

“Um,” you mumble, reaching for one of his hoodies draped over the chair. “Are you hungry? I thought we could do takeout and watch movies–”

“What’re you doing?” He interrupts you, glancing at the hoodie you’re starting to put on.

You blush and his cock twitches in his slacks.

“Nothing… just–”

“Come here,” he commands, his voice rough. You make a small noise of surprise as you fall into his lap, the oversized hoodie drowning your frame.

He notices you smell strongly of roses – one of the perfumes you break out for special occasions. He also notices the slight gloss of your lips.

“You smell nice.”

You blink at him, embarrassed. He looks at you in adoration and amusement.

Before you can get out a thank you, he leans in and inhales, nose nudging at your collarbone. He wants to bite you above it, but you’ve put on his damn sweatshirt.

You shiver when his hands reach underneath to splay over your abdomen, right over the lace. 

“Why’d you cover up?” he chides lightly.

“It’s… cold,” you mumble. He knows you’re lying.

“I’ll warm you up, then.” 

You gasp lightly when he nearly tears the hoodie off you, your nipples pebbling to the cool air. His hands graze your ribs to your hips. His eyes flicker with something predatory when he notices the wet stain on the delicate fabric of your underwear.

“Don’t hide from me.”

“I– I wasn’t,” you huff. “I just thought you weren’t… y’know. In the mood or something.”

He laughs.

“You’re cute. Thinking I don’t want you.”

You glare at him. He thinks you resemble an angry kitten. 

“Well, you didn’t react to me when you walked in, so…”

“You don’t have to dress up for me. I do like this, though.” He rubs his hands over your breasts and you reflexively preen into his touch. You look away, assuming he’s just saying this to appease you.

He’s telling the truth, though. Megumi is so good at controlling his expressions that you hadn’t even noticed the hitch of his breath when he walked into the room. It was bad enough to be around you, finding you desirable during mundane moments, like when your bedhead emerges in the morning as he makes coffee. The determined look on your face during a mission when you hone in on your cursed energy.

Hell, he’s gotten hard just watching you read a book. Seeing you like this was something else entirely. 

He sighs as he cradles you in his lap, mouth nipping at your collarbone as if to admonish you. You’re so warm, everywhere, and he’s about to snap from the way his cock strains against the confines of his pants.

“Did you miss me?” you whisper.

He pauses, lashes fluttering against your neck. He isn’t the kind of person who says he misses you. He rarely holds your hand. Ignores your use of corny emojis. But then, he pulls away slightly to look at you wholly, and his green eyes are blown out with desire. 

“Having no service the whole time was a bitch,” he mutters. 

You hum. “So you didn’t get any of the funny videos I sent?” you pout.

He rolls his eyes and shuts you up with a kiss. He’s always careful at first when he kisses you like you’re breakable in his hands, but this time, it’s like lighting a match. He pins you against the couch like he’s starved. Days without seeing your face and hearing your voice made him feel insane.

He groans as you cling to him. He loves how you’re as desperate as he is. Trying to mold your bodies together. He’s impatient to unclasp your bra and fiddle with your garter and underwear. He likes you in the set, but he likes the simplicity of skin-to-skin contact much more.

Megumi splits you open easily on his fingers. He didn’t know what it was like to be so passionate about pleasing another person until he met you, and since your first time, he’s addicted to every reaction you make. He has it all memorized, every spot that makes you moan out. He supposes it’s overly clinical to think about sex that way, but control has been his strong suit for far too long, and you seem to like it far too much.

You whine as your hips buck up, the curl of his fingers already hitting the spot inside your cunt that makes you dizzy.

Once you cum, you’re frantic in helping him undress. You blink at the small bruises that align his abs, frowning slightly, but he knows to shut you up with his tongue in your mouth and his cock rubbing against your slit. He grins when you moan.

“Want me inside you, huh?” he whispers in your ear, his tone almost threatening. “This all you could think about while I was gone?”

“Y-Yes—”

“Yeah? My baby can’t help but cling to me like a little pet.”

You whimper his name, humiliated. He rubs your clit gently and you gasp. After nuzzling your neck, he pulls back and hovers to admire how wrecked you are. He smiles and your cunt pulsates with want. He always looks a little mean when he wants you.

“Can I tell you a secret?” he rasps.

You nod.

“I kinda like it when you’re clingy. I like knowing it’s me you want and nobody else.”

Your eyes flutter, pressure building in your stomach from the warmth seizing your body. You’re so close just from him playing with your clit. When he retracts his fingers, you whine.

Usually, he scolds you or teases you, but he fucks into you instead, without warning. Groans when he bottoms out, knowing how well you fit together. He’s carved you in his image – you’re perfect around him. 

He doesn’t talk much during sex, not usually, but he wants to indulge you. Reward you with what makes your face hot, what gets you wet at night.

“Good girl,” he mutters. “Good fucking girl—”

You moan so loud he has half the mind to cover your mouth. His stomach flips. He hooks a thumb into your mouth and watches your eyes water in delight. It makes him ache all over with tenderness.

He ruts into you quicker, hips slapping against yours as he uses his other hand to lift your leg. You feel your head spin with how deep he’s getting, feeling him up to your rapidly beating rabbit heart. Lungs tightening with pressure. 

“Oh, god—” you moan, your voice pitched. 

He grunts, your pussy swallowing his cock in a bed of warmth. You feel impossibly tight. Tethering him to you. He doesn’t usually get this rough unless he’s stressed. He wants to be gentle.

But fuck, he hated that mission. He hated being in the middle of nowhere, with no service, with only Gojo of all people to keep him company. With only thoughts of you to warm him at night when he had his hand wrapped around his cock.

“Missed this, huh?

“Y-Yeah– missed you–”

He chuckles darkly. It wasn’t what he asked, but it’s easy to make you a desperate girl.

“Megumi,” you whine. “Missed you. Missed you so much.”

“I know, baby.”

“Tell me you missed me,” you mumble.

“You know I did.” His tone is mildly dismissive but the softness in his voice makes you keen regardless. He soothes you with a tongue to your jaw, thumbs hooked on your hips like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

“You touch yourself while I was gone?’ he mutters, slowing his thrusts as he peers at you with dark, vulturine eyes.

You blink rapidly, unsure of what the right answer is. He slides out until his tip is brushing the inside of you, then slams himself to the brim of your cunt. He grins when you mewl.

“Yes – fuck–

“Language,” he scolds, smiling. He holds your chin in his hand. “So honest. I thought about you too.”

He feels you flutter around him and groans.

“Can you show me?” he grunts.

“Hm?” You’re barely conscious of yourself when you’re full of him, face cradled by him – his angel on Earth. It’s times like this when he feels justified to tease you and call you his pet. Despite never admitting it, he belongs to you more than you belong to him. 

“Touch yourself. I wanna see.”

You bring a shaky hand in between your bodies to circle your clit, legs trembling at the extra stimulation. Megumi can feel his gut searing at how your face contorts in pleasure, gasps hiccuping out of your mouth like bubbles when he presses his knuckles down gently on your stomach. 

He’s more than willing to sink deeper and deeper into you. Your warmth and wetness and softness help him obscure all the jagged parts of himself. He can forget.

“Feels so fucking good,” he groans. “So good, baby.”

You moan and babble incoherently as you take him, fucked out of your mind. 

You’re fucking close. He’s coaxed both of your legs up and onto his shoulders. You can feel him dig into the most sensitive parts of you. You feel drunk on the feeling of his cock. 

It seems that your pulses are synced because he smiles at you knowingly. He knows all your expressions, the slight constriction of your cunt around him when you’re on the edge.

He leans in close to whisper in your ear. “Gonna cum, angel?”

“M-mhm… can you– hah–”

“Yeah?” he breathes.

“Faster,” you hum. “Just like – oh, fuck –”

His hips buck and you pulse around him, letting out a choked gasp as you come. Fuck, he should pull out. Going raw was only a recent development, mostly because you’re very persuasive, but he usually likes to pull out and spill onto your stomach. Your tits if he’s feeling more pent-up.

He can’t find it in himself to not come inside you right now, though. You feel too good and he doesn’t want to ruin the buildup of what will be the most relief he’ll have in days of not touching you. 

Your face is begging him, taunting him. His eyes flutter as he finally lets himself go, grunting as he spills inside you. He doesn’t realize until after he pulls out how tight his grip on you is. He falls back on his knees, watching your heavy-lidded eyes examine his glistening cock.

“Wow. You really did miss me, huh?” you laugh.

“Shut up,” he mumbles.

[gilverrwrites]

If that ask was too long and elaborate, I have another one!

What about a fic with Batman, where the reader finds out she’s pregnant and doesn’t know how to tell Bruce since he already has mature/ teenager kids and she doesn’t know if he wants to raise one from the infant stage to adulthood.

She kinda overthinks about it and distance herself from Bruce. He notice it and when she would confess, to her surprise, Bruce would get super exited!

What I don't understand

AN: I'm back baby! At least partly, my hand is still on and off achy so I won't we posting as activiely as I have previously. I've done so much research on pregnancy that all my adds are now of pregancy tests, fertilitie test, baby stuff, I'm worried my bf might start to suspect that I'm pregnant which would be akward Bruce Wayne/F!Reader, 3.9K words CW: Husband/Wife dynamic, pregnancy, feet (none sexual), mentions of vomit, body dysmorphia, lying/sneaking around, prenatal anxiety/depression, martial problems, swearing. Fluffy ending tho!

Pregnancy brain is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result. Or maybe that's insanity, who knows? You ponder the thought as you fidget with the flimsy cardboard packaging of the pregnancy test you're awaiting the results of as if you don't know the answer. You'd already taken countless tests, trialling different brands in the hopes of a different outcome but every single one of them had confirmed your situation with variations on lines and plus signs. They'd never offered you a negative, and yet you keep trying.

There was no denying it, and pretty soon there would be no hiding. You were fast approaching the end of your first trimester at 9 weeks but had only found out about a month ago. The task of informing Bruce while there was still time to act seems to grow bigger and scarier with each passing day. Not to mention; it's becoming increasingly obvious that he already suspected something is wrong.

3 weeks ago:

The cold tile against your aching feet felt like ecstasy. You couldn’t help but close your eyes and lean against the wall, relishing in every second of release as you awaited Jason’s return.

You’d spend hours hiding your pain, precariously balancing in a pair of heels as you kept up appearances during a charity event being held at the manor. Bruce was currently being cornered by a visiting dignitary, and as bad as you felt leaving him alone, it might have been your only chance. You’d slipped away to an off-limits hallway, grasping Jason’s who had drawn the short straw for event appearances along the way. Once out of view to your guests you’d begged him to retrieve a pair of pumps from your bedroom, the petty prospect of keeping it secret from, and thus getting a one-up on his adoptive father being the primary motivator. That and he owed you, a lot, for defusing many situations in which he and your husband had butt heads.

The weight of your discarded shoes hung heavily from your fingers, you hadn’t realised how weighty they were. A shame, because they were so pretty. They were a gift from Bruce, strappy and bedazzled, the perfect colour to match your dress. Another pair for your ever-expanding collection, he’d always favoured gifting you shoes and purses, and you certainly didn’t mind, at least not until your ankles had begun swelling at the mere notion of being used for their primary function.

“Are you okay? You seem off.” Jason’s voice returning to the hall made you jump out of your stupor, and he watched with concern as you tucked your heels behind a curtain and slipped into the flats he’d brought you.

“Fine, fine.” You smile, patting his arm with a reassuring smile. “Just didn’t wear those in properly and now I’m paying the price.”

“Right.” He still seemed dubious and was about to say something else when a door creeks open, redirecting both of your attention.

Bruce stood in the doorway, stern, arms crossed. He glares at the both of you, he and Jason have a very similar glare. His eyes focus in on you, identifying you as the main culprit, his gaze roves across your form, lingering on your feet for an uncomfortably long time before speaking.

“If I have to suffer through this, so do the two of you.” He points behind him. “In.”

Jason’s face is obscured as he takes the lead, but Bruce must not like his expression because his frown seems to deepen.

You followed close behind, careful not to step on the hem of your dress now that you lack the additional six inches the heels had offered but your integration back into the crowd is halted. Bruce traced his hand along your back, cupping the curve of your waist and directing you to a lesser populated spot amongst the outskirts of your visitants.

The stony look on his face was gone, replaced with a polite smile for the crowd and softer eyes for you.

“What happened to your shoes?” His voice was low, in-perceivable to anyone but yourself.

“My feet were sore is all.” It’s not a lie.

“Too sore for dancing?” He asks, voice as slick as silk and you don’t want to agree but yes, they are too sore dancing. Not to mention you’d gotten nauseous from standing up too quickly only hours earlier but damn if you didn’t want to dance with your husband. Want to feel his chest against yours, his hands on your curves, admire the smile on his face. There are few things you enjoy more than any form of intimacy with Bruce.

“Maybe later.” You sighed, “I think I need to sit down for a while.”

2 weeks ago:

‘Breast changes are another very early sign of pregnancy. Your hormone levels rapidly change after the egg is fertilized. Because of these changes, your breasts may become swollen, sore, or tingly.’

You groaned aloud, rereading the entry on WebMD once more. You hadn’t expected your breasts to change so early on, incorrectly assuming any swelling or pain would be a result of breast milk, but you were wrong.

Believing you had the house to yourself, you figure now was as good a time as any to read up on more early pregnancy symptoms, to correct any other misconception you might have. You were midway through reading about progesterone and how it causes constipation when your laptop pinged.

A notification popped up in the corner of the screen, a DM from UserDC27, Bruce’s bat-server codename. You click to open the message and audibly gasp when a screenshot of your browsing history greets you, framed in red with its own ‘suspicious activity’ notification in the corner.

‘Pregnancy trimesters in weeks’ ‘Swollen breasts pregnant’ ‘Early pregnancy symptoms’

Amongst all the suspicious browsing habits of this family, of course yours had flagged up! Fucking ridiculous!

UserDC27: ? UserRI01: For a friend UserRI01: dw UserRI01: Love you x UserDC27: is typing… UserRI01: has signed out.

1 weeks ago:

“Good morning.” A familiar voice greeted you, strong hands slink around your body, brushing against your back and hips before settling on your stomach. What should have been a sweet moment frightened you, disturbing you from your train of thought and causing you to almost spill your morning decaf coffee.

“Woah there.” Bruce laughed, the warmth and proximity of him soothing you quickly. He effortlessly took the mug from your hands and settled it on the kitchen island so he could pull you closer without spillage.

“Sorry.” You mumbled, turning your head to rest it against his chest. The strength of his cologne is always so much stronger in the mornings, the scent of the man you love, of citrus and woodsiness does wonders to comfort your frantic brain no matter the time or place. “Just lost in thought.”

After a second you realise your mistake, you’ve allowed him an opening to ask what you’re thinking about and that exact moment certainly did not feel like the right time, what with Damian in the next room. You should be alone, completely alone.

He surprises you however, always one for keeping everyone on their toes, by spinning you around to face him and telling you, “I don’t think that’s it.”

“What do you think it is?” You tried to keep your voice airy, relaxed, unsuspicious but even you can hear the guilt in your tone.

“I think you’re tired.” He watches you with a playful glint in his eye, but the next words out of his mouth are accusatory no matter how light his tone is. “Where are you sneaking off to in the mornings, oh wife of mine?”

“W-what?” You heard him fine, you were stalling while you calculated a response. You had been sneaking off in the mornings and the fact that he’s asking so playfully, as opposed to interrogating which he is not unknown to do even with you, means he knows more than he’s letting on.

Bruce isn’t exactly an early riser, often too tired from long nights of crime fighting and case filing, but he is a light sleeper. Always on alert. He’d already caught you in a bought of morning sickness once. Roused by the unpleasant noises you’d been making. You’d lied about it, citing an upset tummy from something you’d eaten. You weren’t sure which was worse, the vomiting, the sombre expression he’d given you as he approached to rub your back throughout, or the look of horror on Alfred’s face when Bruce had brought up your supposed food poisoning later that day.

Ever since you’d purposely been rising early and sneaking off to dispel any nausea in one of the many guest bedrooms.

“Nowhere, I’m just becoming more of a morning person I guess.”

He eyed you sceptically, and you thought you might crack under the pressure. His hands reach up to cup your face, preventing you from turning away. His touch is so gentle, so soft for a man of his stature. “You can tell me anything, you know that?”

“Of course.”

As if you couldn’t feel worse he adds; “I miss waking up to you beside me.”

“Oh Brucie-“

You’re already on your tip toes, ready to concede, to apologise, to shower your sullen husband with kisses when you’re saved by the signal. Literally, a call from Duke 'The Signal' Thomas, with a reminder of your apprehension; an active situation that needed Batman’s participation.

Your relationship, and now marriage to Bruce had always hinged on an unspoken understanding that Gotham comes first. Even with Tim taking over most of his responsibilities at Wayne Tech, Bruce simply does not have enough time to raise a baby. You can't expect him to take turns with the nighttime feeds, with the frequent nappy changes, with the constant attention an infant will need.

You’ve no doubt Alfred would delight in assisting you, he's been dropping hints about wanting a baby Brucie since the engagement, and you love him very much but if you’re to raise a baby, you want to do it with your husband, not his butler.

That’s presuming your husband even wants a child. Another child. He already has enough children to populate a small village. Children with lives of their own. Children who in some way or another have followed in his vigilante footsteps. You think of the stress and trauma each of them has faced, and how it has affected them and their father. You think of Steph and her tremulous relationships with Bruce and Arthur. Of Jason’s deaths, plural. Of Dicks ineptitude to form meaningful relationships with anyone outside of the lifestyle. Of all the childhoods so many, but especially Cass and Damian missed out on. Could you be responsible for putting another child through any of that?

Furthermore, if your child wanted to live this life, could you really stop them? Nobody stopped Tim. Nobody stopped Barbara, when Jim had tried it only caused the rift between them to grow bigger.

Could Bruce stop your unborn child? Would he want to?

Speak of the Oracle. The chime of your phone draws you out of your spiral of perinatal anxieties. It’s Barbara, informing the girls-only group chat that she’s running late for lunch. Crap. You’d completely forgotten that you’d promised the girls lunch and shopping. Barbara had some tech on hold, Steph wanted to try the new caramel cookie waffles at Goodilicious, and Cass needed new boots whether she knew it or not.

Hurriedly, you shove the used test into a previously disused makeup bag that is now full of other used tests. It's starting to smell, but you don't have time to figure out how to stealthily throw it out, so you hide it at the back of a cupboard behind a basket of sanitary products before rushing out the door.

Later

Catching up with the girls had been fun, it had really helped you forget about your predicament and just relax for a while, but it had also taken a lot out of you, keeping you out well past dinner. Your body just was not functioning as well as it used to, for obvious reasons.

Upon returning to the mansion you’d made it to the ground floor lounge, feet too sore to even consider the stairs, and collapsed on the closest couch, exerting just enough energy to pry your shoes and sock off of your swollen feet prior to falling asleep. Just a quick nap you tell yourself, to regain some energy, you’ll be right as rain in time for Damian’s bedtime. He’s old enough now to put himself to bed, especially given that he often patrols with his father until the early hours of the morning, but tonight is his night off and you’d always make the effort to wish him sweet dreams when you can.

You’re awoken by the feel of calloused fingers pressing into the arches of your feet. You hadn’t heard him enter, but Bruce is sitting on the arm of the couch, in nothing but sweatpants and slippers. Between his bare chest and cowl hair, he is a welcome sight, bruised chest and freshly cut lip and all.

“What happened to you?” You ask, voice husky from your impromptu nap. You manage to draw your eyes away from Bruce long enough to check the time on an antique wall clock, it’s 4 AM. You’d far exceeded a nap. “Where’s Damian?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle. Damian is asleep. When you didn’t wish him a goodnight he came to look for you, that’s how I knew you were here.” He asserts. He looks at you with a furrowed brow and pinched lips, working his thumb into the arch of your feet with just enough pressure to make you mewl in relief. “Are you punishing me for something?”

The question hits you like a ton of bricks, it’s not without merit. You hadn’t intended to spend the night on the couch, but you can understand how it must look to him, especially in tangent with the ways in which you had intentionally been avoiding him; sneaking out in the mornings, not allowing him to see your naked body for fear that he’ll notice your swollen breasts, and growing belly. You hadn’t had sex in at least three weeks.

All at once you are overcome with remorse. You’d been so consumed with the pregnancy and how best to approach the subject with Bruce that you hadn’t stopped to think how your actions would weigh on him. He’s so strong, your anchor, an unchanging presence for the whole family. He locks himself and his emotions behind the big bad bat or billionaire Brucie so well that sometimes he forgets he has them. Sometimes you forget. Even now, clearly hurting and concerned for his marriage, he’s rubbing your feet.

“No of course not Bruce, I’m sorry…” your mind starts to form the end of your apology ‘I was just so tired’ or ‘it’s been a long day’ and they wouldn’t be lies but they’re not the right thing to say. You can’t keep postponing for the ‘right moment’ that will never come, can’t keep chickening out. He needs to know the truth. “I’m- I’m pregnant.”

You’re not sure how you’d expected him to respond really. You’d feared anger, hoped for joy but instead, he continues to stare at you, his brows raising in a way that implied he needed more information. He swaps your left foot for your right as he awaits your resumption. When you don’t speak he nods and states; “I know.”

“You know?” As though possessed your tired body launches into an upright seated position. “How could you know?”

Bruce smiles in response, an amused, tight-lipped ‘Are you kidding?’ smile.

“Well, to name a few things;” he counts off each observation on his fingers. “You’ve stopped wearing heels because your ankles are constantly swollen, your breasts are also noticeably swollen even under your clothes, you now only drink decaf, you seemingly have ‘food poisoning’ every morning and at no other time of day, a massive increase in urination, and my personal favourite, the bag full of positive pregnancy tests behind a crate-full of menstrual products that haven’t been used in almost three months.”

He’s trying to hide it, but he’s smug about his own detective skills. His mouth might be straight but there’s a fire in his eyes that has you drawing your legs away from him with a huff, abruptly ending the massage you had been enjoying. “How long have you known?”

“I’d had my suspicions for about 6 weeks, but I wasn’t certain until I found your stash last week.” Typical of Bruce to have figured out you were pregnant before you’d known yourself. “What I don’t understand, is why you didn’t tell me. Why you’ve been lying.”

“I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have kept this from you. I was going to but…” You trail off,  straightening your thoughts as best you can and finding your composure, preparing to begin monologuing about your concerns. “I didn’t know how you’d feel about it, what with you know, already having so many kids. Everyone but Damian has flown the nest, Dick and Babs are married! They’re all so grown up, do you really want to start again? And then…”

Conscious of your rambling you cut yourself off, looking to Bruce for reassurance that you’re not talking too much, that he’s not offended by your worries. He consoles you by coming closer, sitting on the cushion beside you and easily coaxing your legs over his. His firm hands are gentle as they grasp your knee.

“And what?” He questions.

“I wasn’t sure how I feel, I wanted to figure that out before talking to you.”

“What do you think you feel about it?”

“I think I want to have your baby Bruce, our baby.” So caught up in your thoughts, you hadn’t noticed your husband’s hands creeping higher and higher up your body until a hand settles on your stomach, his thumb stroking you through the fabric of your shirt. You’d been so self-conscious of its growth but as you look at it now, under Bruce’s sturdy fingers, you realise it isn’t much bigger than it had been pre-pregnancy. How tedious your problems seemed when voiced and put into perspective, except maybe one. “I’m just not sure about how… well I guess I never thought about raising a child within your lifestyle.”

“I understand.” He nods, confirming his statement. He’s done well to keep his face soft but neutral throughout, a staple of his Batman facade but also a careful way not to let his own emotions interfere with yours.

“What do you think?” He looks down at your abdomen as he considers his words. You follow his gaze, watching as his fingers lift your top, exposing your skin to him. Without warning he lowers himself to pepper your belly with gentle kisses, the ticklish motion causes you to giggle and writhe beneath him.

When he looks up at you again he’s smiling, the motion causing the scab on his lip to split and bleed. Without thought you pull yourself closer to him, using his broad shoulders as leverage. Once close enough you dab at the minor wound with your thumb soaking up the fluid as best you can and examining the cut to ensure no further damage.

Bruce watches you intently the whole time, cupping your face in his hand when you appear satisfied. The adoration in his eyes makes you feel sheepish even after everything you’ve been through together.

“I think,” his voice is low, sincere. “I couldn’t be happier to be growing our family together. I think this child, like all our children, will be lucky to have you as a mother, whatever life they choose to lead.”

The amount of pent-up tension in your body had not been apparent to you until now. Until your body noticeably lightens in response to his words. The relief of no longer sneaking around, no more fretting over how he might react has you wishing you’d done this a long time ago.

“Bruce?” You sag into his chest, breathing him in. His arms unconsciously wrap around you in response, pulling you in for a tighter embrace. “We’re having a baby.”

“Were are having a baby.” He confirms, pressing more, tender kisses to your neck, the curve of a smile apparent as his lips press to your exposed skin. "I've been waiting for this moment since the day we me. But, I think it’s time we got to bed, it’s late.”

Swift and practiced, Bruce lifts you from the couch, cradling you in the bridal position. You stretch to check the clock, 4:34 AM.

“Technically it’s early.” You jest, expecting him to punish your cheek by jolting you in the air or throwing you over his shoulder as he normally does, but instead, he chides you with an amused glare, clearly too concerned about the baby for play fighting.

“Neither of us has been to bed, it’s late.” His grip tightens on your body as he makes his way up the stairs, one steady step at a time. “And I expect my wife to be in our bed when I wake up.”

“Hmmm.” Your morning sickness has eased in the last few days, you’d only persisted in sneaking out to be safe, but he doesn’t need to know that just yet. “I’ll try, but I might be in our bathroom.”

“I can cope with that. At least then I can care for you. And we can throw out your hoard.” You don’t fuss over the likelihood of him having to rush off to save the day or for an urgent board meeting, you just throw your head back, laughing at yourself for trying to hide anything from Bruce.

When you reach the bedroom he lays you in the bed and climbs over your form. He’s in full caretaker mode, a manner you could get used to. He carefully removes your clothes, offers to redress you in your sleepwear and to bring you your lotions, or anything you should need from the bathroom.

Dawn is breaking behind your blackout curtains by the time you’re both settled in bed, entangled in each other’s arms. Sleep has nearly taken you again when Bruce whispers; “I do have one other thought.”

“Oh?" You peer at him curiously over your shoulder. "Yes dear?”

“I think you should be the one to tell Damian.”

His request hangs heavy in the air as you consider the implication. “Tell Damian that he will no longer be your only blood child?”

The room remains silent, he doesn’t expand because you know what he’s getting at. Damian probably won’t mind, because he’ll still be the oldest, the first in line and you’re certain he’ll be a wonderful older brother, he’s great with animals, so why not babies? Right?

“… That's not fair.”

“Think of it as penance for lying to me all month.” There’s an air of humour in his voice as he pulls you closer still, squeezing himself into your back and planting sleepy kisses against your neck. “Besides, he’ll probably take it better from you. I think he likes you more.”

[adkawariatka]

Hi, it turns out that fanfiction is really addictive and I still cant move past any recomendations without checking it out. So I have another idea for a dcxdp crossover….

Danny is living on Gotham streets for 4 months. Its perfect hiding place becouse of its aura. Many tradic deaths and general danger on every corner creats ideal barier for all sorts of ghost hunting equipment. Danny wos relucant about Gotham at first but after few failed attempts at finding hiding space, he decided that to hell with that and he will at least try. And thank the ancients that he did because its perfect. No one pays him any attention there is too much homless out there. Even if most kids are staying at Crime Alley seeking Red hood protection. thats one of the reasons why he hestitated at coming to ghotam: vigilinates. They are dangerous, becouse of partnership with goverment…. Who according to Anti-Ecto laws considers him non-sentient and in need of contamination or more often elimination. So yes Danny wos relucant but it turned out fine….. for now. No ghost or human gosthunter found him yet so he counts it as a success. Any other city, forest, mountains or everything else he tried didn’t last longer that a month. He might not be proud of his surviving technics like stealing, laying and dumpster diving but its not like he has a choice…. He is too much alive to be accepted in to infinite relams for good which is dumb if you ask Danny becouse he is at the same time its Crown Prince. But maybe Danny is just too naive or something. He does not care. On the other hand he is too dead to be accepted by humans so he kind of floats in between never to fit properly anywhere. He is surviving, and for about a year he wos completly alone until that one day…

Danny wos sitting on the bench in his favourite park close to lovely Café that had really beatifull cupcakes with blue whipped cream. He liked to pretend that he is a customer there and just waits for his order….that wos never placed…. Well who is he kidding he is just creepy homless kid that stares at people eating sweets from across the street. Pretty pathetic IF you ask Danny but he prefers not to dwell on his mental health thank you very much. So he is staring when a group of kids takes one of the outside tables. And like a serious creep listens in to their conversation. Well its not like he can swich off his super hearing.

The boys are talking about some homework from school. Danny assumes they are classmates becouse of their maching clothes. When to their table comes another one with darker skin and black hairs. The occupants share meanigfull glances and let the newcommer sit. Danny knows that look. It does not indicates anything good. Its the expression that Dash would make whenever he wos about to do something awful to him. Then the guy with blonde hair says

- Damian why don’ t you eat with us?

And then procedes to push the plate with cookies closer to the boy

- I thought I informed you Winser that I do not eat anything made of milk or other animals products. I am vegan.

Answered Damian with monotone voice. He sat incredybly straight and wos so stiff that Danny thought that must hurt.

- But its so good. beside I offered it. wouldnt it be polite of you to at least try?

Wisner insisted. Sly grin on his lips.

- Leave him be Mike he probably has problems with digesting such hard avaible products.

Said boy to the left with massive collection of pimples on his Chin. Danny named him spotty.

- I do not have any „digestive problems” as you put it Jenkin. I simply choose not to.

- of course pardon our lack of knowledge. Its just we worry that your… original diet wos a little lacking… or maybe you ate a little too much chocholate when you where younger. Thats all

And all of the group snickers to spotty „jokes”. Danny Thinks its primitive and disgusting. Racizm is low blow specially after Damians next words:

- I do not understand

And they laught even more. Damian just sits there confused and oblivious to insults vowen in to conversation. And Danny listens and decides that he must tell that boy the truth. He cant turn blind eye to that. He may no longer be a hero but that? He can help with that. Soon bullies get bored of throwing hidden insults at Damian and go away. Damian sits at their table alone staring at the crumbs of cookies. He looks lonely. Danny standard and walks over to him. But before he reaches the table his occupant whirles to face him. His eyes are very green. Not like ectoplasm but close. They are pretty expresive. Danny can see frustration and confusion in them.

-hi there!

Geats cheerfully.

- I don’t have any cash on me right now

Its the first thing Damian says to him. Rude Danny thinks even if he does looks like a beggar with his thorn jeans and dirty jumper, but he has a mission. And he does the one thing that helps him in stressfull, akward or life treathening situations: he turns it into a joke

- Shame but I will make an exeption for you and give you my services for free

- I am not interested

Damian seems irritated now. Danny procedes to ignore him and sits at the table.

- Well as an expert in friendship I can tell you that those guys weren’t your friends. Better keep away from them

- Thats none of your business. Go away

- well maybe not but you should know what they were saying to you….

And then Danny proceded to inform Damian about the hidden insults and racizem comments. Damian tried to say something and even walk away but Danny wos presistent. When he finaly finished Damian exploded

- Leave me you insolent lowborn go find yourself another imbecyle to milk for money! Or I will stab you!

- Wow that same fancy insults there. I havent Heard lowborn yet. Anyway have a good day!

And Danny proceded to turn on his heel and walk away. He left Damian dumbfoned staring at his back. if the boy decided to do something about this then good if not then Danny at least feels like he did everything he could in this situation.

-

Damian wos confused. That homless lowborn wos strange. He wos not familiar with Damian nor his family. But. Damian couldnt stop thinking about what he told him. About his classmates their words and hidden meanings. Damian wos not hier to Demons head and son of Batman without a reason. He had skills, keen mind and wos curious. So he checked, he spent almost all night reading different forums and sites about bulling and racizem. He tried not Think about how much he resembled Drake in the morning. What he found wos…. Not plesant. It turned out he missed a lot of signs of his position at school. It wos unbeconing of someone of his class. He wos glad to be aware of that problem but now he did not know what to do with it. Father and Grayson expected him to make „friends” and up until yesterday he thought he fullfiled their orders thru his classmates but now he realised it wos failure. He did not want father to Discover his mistake. So now he has different problem he does not know exacly what that „friendship” wos supposed to be. Internet wos not really helpfull, there were so many diversive definitions that he wos confused about what wos true. He wos not going to admit to father or Grayson his incompetence. He will find solution himself. He has one idea that just might work. The lowborn named himself expert in friendship. Damian just has to find him and ask. He seemed willing to sell his knowledge.

-

Danny wos a little confused and suprised to see angry boy from two days before him. In his defense Danny did not start this conversation. It wos Damian who came to his bench across the café and demanded his services. Which wos weird in itself even before he asked about the price. But he did remember that he made a joke about services so that checks.

- look I am not…

Started Danny but Damian cut him off.

- you introduced yourself as an expert in friendship so I require your services. I will pay generously.

God now Danny wos going to be arrested for child manipulation and thieft. No that can’t happen. He already is hunted for his halfa status that’s enough.

- Listen I don’t want any money. I joked that day. I saw a kid being bullied and stepped in. Further events does not concern me.

Danny tried to leave but the kid wos presistent.

- Well your knowledge proved usefull. I want more

-kid, Damian I don’t want to get in trouble by using you or something. I am pretty sure there is some paragraph for that. Ask Google, it’s better option. And without me involved

- you think I didn’t do it already?! I am not stupid, but the information there are contradicting itself and I can’t distinguish what is true and what is not!!!!

Danny looks at Damian. He is shaking a little, and his words are colored by desperation. Ancients this is trouble… but he wos in this situation before wosnt he? A boy who does not know basic social skills in foreign dimension…alone and lost. Fuck he can’t leave Damian hanging. He can feel his fear in the air. Damn ghost abilities.

- Fine what’s your problem?

-

Danny has been meeting with Damian for over 2 months now. the kid wos socially awkward but quick witted and genarlly nice company. Well Danny wos alone for so long that his judgement may be clouded by he does not dwell on that. It’s nice having someone around. And Damian talks to him. He missed that. First few meeting wos a little awkward but it got better. Danny tried to be helpful,?first they talked about the school interactions, who even wos a friend. But then they got deeper, it turned out that Damian knew about social interactions little to nothing. They talked about family how it works, what it should be like. It wos ironic considering Danny neglectful parents and dangerous home. But he knew how it should look like. Jazz make sure of that when she wos alive. Then Damian started to open up about his origin. Trainings, mother and weird hierarchy. Well Danny saw a lot wilder shit in the zone. A kid from assassin cult wosnt the most shocking but still fucked up. He thinks that Damian might be even winning his little competition: „who had more screwed childhood” He thinks that his calmness helped Damian to share. Ancients he feels like Jazz…. It is not that bad. Damian brings him snacks, becouse Danny refused any money. And Danny talks to him too. Tells him about the stars, laughs about stories of Sam and Tucker Damian will never know who is he talking about so there is no harm. First time from death of everyone loved he does not feel alone.

-

Damian didnt plan to get close to Danny. It wosnt the plan. But he wos such good listener. Danny wos systematic in his explanation of reactions and habits that are „normal” in society. He wosnt showing horror or acted surprised when he told him about discipline in league or it’s hierarchy. He didn’t even flinch when he conveyed stories of trying to establish his position in manor by attempting to murder Drake. He listened then pointed out how different manor and league functioned and then calmly suggested that he should talk to Timothy. Just like that no screaming or anger. Now he knows why father wos so frustrated with him. According to Danny family doesn’t have strict hierarchy or rules punishable by death. It wos strange to have everything finally explained. He understands so much more. He sees that Grayson tried to explain it to him before. But as much as he is fond of the man he wos unsuccessful in his attempts. But he still has one problem… father told him to make friends. It’s a mission that he is failing right now. And if he is being honest he is not talented in this department. Not that he will admit it to anyone… well apart from Danny. When he asked him what else he should do to accomplish this mission he got quiet and fidgeted for a while and then offered

- well if you want I can be your friend

Damian stopped his walk and stared at him. Did Danny filled all the requirements? He did helped Damian not expecting anything in return which friends are supposed to do according to Danny himself, his presence wos entertaining. They understood each other. Both suspicious of their surroundings and cautious in every situation. They know about each other a lot of useless information like favourite food (Danny loved burgers), colors, hobbies or general interests.

-yes that would be acceptable

Damian saw the happy glint in Danny’s eyes and the way he relaxed. They started to walk again as if it wosnt admission of most importance.

So I may post a little follow up about how Tim reacted to Damian apology? I will see. As you can see my writing isn’t the best sorry😅. So in here Danny’s family and friends from Amity are dead and he is 16-isch Damian is fresh from the league and is obviously confused.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Santa Baby

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: Not wanting them to feel left out, you show some kindness to a coworker, only to be repaid with a most unexpected act of generosity.

Character: Jake Jensen

Day Six of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - extreme weather leads to forced proximity  

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Another message pops up on the Teams chat, then a reaction. As chair of the social committee, you swiftly open the conversation to review the interaction. The secret santa is a success. So far. 

You check another name off your list. You want to make sure that all the exchanges are made. You even arranged to deliver gifts on behalf of those with the day booked off. It’s all going smoothly and you’re a few hours away from declaring another office holiday season a success. 

Then you have to worry about the other holiday. The one for your family. Your kids are sorted but the gifts need to be wrapped. And your husband, he’s the nosiest of all. You’ll need to make sure he isn’t sniffing around your bag again. 

The presents are just one thing. Your time off won’t be that. You have to drive three hours north to see your family. You still don’t think your sister, Shayna, forgives you for that little argument at Thanksgiving. And if your brother, Jamar, even shows up, that might be worse than the alternative. 

Your workday triumph is one thing you can be proud of before your home life implodes. 

You run the clock out, your list filling with tick marks. As you reach the one-hour countdown, there’s one name left. Jensen. Strange. He’s handed off his own gift but hasn’t yet received anything. Maybe he just didn’t post in the chat. He does get distracted easily. 

As another minute runs off, you jump into action. You head down to accounting to ask Alan about it. He’s swiveling casually in his chair as you approach, nonchalant as she stares at his monitor dully. You say his name to get his attention. 

“Hey, just checking in. Going around and making sure everything’s been sorted for the swap. You gave Jensen his present right?” 

Alan scoffs and chews the end of a ballpoint, “nah.” 

“No?” You frown, “okay, well can you do it by the end of the day--” 

“Nope,” he snorts. “Didn’t get one.” 

“What?” You have to measure your voice.  

“Didn’t feel like it. Guy’s a dweeb.” 

“Regardless of your personal feelings, this was voluntary and you signed up,” you chide. 

“Mm, kinda too late, isn’t it?” He shrugs and turns back to his screen. “I got a wife who’ll tear my throat out if she doesn’t get a month’s pay in gifts so that goggly-eyed nerd is the least of my worries.” 

You sigh. There’s always one bad egg. It’s like when you ask your kids to just not fight for one day. It never happens yet you still keep trying. 

“Happy holiday, Alan,” you snipe and stomp away. 

You should have expected one thing to go wrong. It always has to and you’re always the one cleaning it up. Why would anyone call this the happiest time of the year? It’s the most stressful and the only thing you ever get are a few new grey hairs.  

Well, Kathleen did get you that fancy three-wick candle you plan to put in your bathroom, though you’re not sure how much relaxation you can get when your kids can’t leave you to soak for more than five minutes without interruption. You remind yourself to stop looking for the problems. You’re the problem-solver, not the problem-dweller. 

You can figure this out. You go to your desk and grab your purse and nothing else. You hurry out, ignoring several utterances in your direction. If people need you now, well, they should’ve thought of that earlier. It might not be important to them or to your job, but you’d hate to be the only person left out. You have been before. It’s why you’re such a people pleaser. 

There’s a hobby shop not far from the office building. You went there for your son’s gift. He’s a big fan of anime. You enter and greet the cashier with an apologetic smile. They are also gearing up for the end of the day. 

“Promise, I’ll be quick,” you assure him. 

He just shrugs, “no problem, lady.” 

You stop and take a breath, gathering your wits into order. Your racing thoughts, your hammering adrenaline, it’s like a platoon of disordered soldiers scattering inside of you. You call them into formation and turn down the center aisle. 

You glance over the products on the shelf. Jensen always had that Tetris keychain dangling from his lanyard when he came to troubleshoot. It’s the only video game you ever played, though your daughter let you run around her Animal Crossing island once. She banned you after you offended her favourite cat character. 

You bend to the lower shelf, hips straining with the effort, and you claim the box with the red clearance tag, marked right under the spending cap. The mini arcade machine proclaims 30+ games to play, including classics like Pong, Pac-man, his bow wearing counterpart, and Tetris! 

You take it to the counter and ask if they do gift wrap. Sorry, no. That’s okay. You pay and mourn the bottle of wine you’ll have to forego to accommodate the extra expense. 

You hurry back down the street, without a jacket to protect you from the biting chill or drifting flakes. The snow dampens your face and clothes, catching and melting in your hair as you clack in your heels frantically. 

Fifteen minutes left in the day. You rush into the lobby and tap the elevator button impatiently. Screw it. 

You tuck the box under one arm and go to the stairs. You take off your heels and clamour up in your stockinged feet. You’re breathless as you get to the top. You push through the heavy metal door and stomp forward, shoes dangling from your fingers. 

You ignore the looks sent in your direction. You stop briefly to scratch off the price tag and attempt to compose yourself. You proceed down to IT and approach Jensen as he bites his thumb, his other hand hovering over his keyboard. 

His rectangular glasses reflect his screen and his blond hair is spiked only one side as it appears the other has been flattened by anxious palming. You keep from slamming down the box and instead stop beside him. “Excuse me, Jensen.” 

“Huh, uh, oh,” he turns his chair and looks up at you. He smooths his Luigi-themed tie as he plants his feet wide. “Oh, hi. Is your PC overheating again--” 

“Merry Christmas,�� you shove the box towards him, “special delivery.” 

He hesitates and pushes his glasses down the bridge of his nose. He blinks as he examines the box. He lowers his hand to his chest and pinches the button of his shirt. 

“For me?” 

“So sorry, I was running around all day,” you explain. “I meant to get it to your earlier--” 

“Really?” He looks at your shoulder and you glance over at the melting snow. 

“It was in my car,” you lie swiftly. “I’m sorry, really.” 

“No, it’s...” he reaches to take the box, his hands brushing your cold fingers. “Oh gosh, you’re freezing.” 

“I’m fine,” you assure him as you retract your hold on the box. He gives you a lingering look before he leans back. 

“Huh, this is...” he lowers it to his lap and examines the box. “Really cool. Thanks.” He chuckles tensely, “I almost thought Santa forgot me.” 

“Again, I’m sorry,” you say. 

“I’m not mad,” he assures you as he turns the box in his hands. “Really. I had to set an alarm to make sure I brought in mine, then another to give it to Terry.” 

“That’s a good idea. If we do this again, I’ll have to try that,” you smile. “Well, I hope you enjoy.” 

“Totally,” he agrees. “It’ll keep me busy on the time off.” 

Wish I had that problem, you think to yourself. “That’s great,” you chime. “Anywho, I don’t wanna keep you since the day’s almost done. I gotta get my desk tidied before I head out.” 

“Sure,” he gives a slanted grin, “this is so cool, thank you.” He grips the corners of the box, “I always knew you were the coolest.” 

You go back to the desk but the person waiting for you is a bad omen for your holiday. You hide your disappointment as Lee waits, leaning on the corner with arms crossed. You stop behind your chair. 

“Hello, Mr. Bodecker--” 

“Let’s not beat around the bush,” he intones. 

“Right, what’s going on?” 

“That new one, the pretty thing, she miscalculated the Dorsey account.” 

You deflate. Of course she did. That one hasn’t done a single thing right since she started. 

“I’d ask her to redo it but I already did. Three times. Needs to be done for year end or accounting will have my ass in two,” he says without censor. 

“And you want me to do it?” You utter. 

“See, you always know exactly what needs to be done,” he clucks and stands straight, “double-overtime. It’ll be on your January pay.” 

“Right,” you swallow. There’s not denial to be given. Your performance review is also in January and you need the bonus after factoring in the family road trip. “I’ll get it done.” 

“Good woman,” he winks. “Put the hours into the system.” 

“Sure, happy holidays, sir.” 

“Ha,” he snorts, “if my ex-wife has anything to say about it, they won’t be.” 

You roll you chair under you and drop your purse between your feet. You send a quick text to your husband. The kids are being dropped off by Hannah anyway. He just needs to be home. Even he can figure out how to reheat the chili you froze last month. 

After you get your instructions sent, you turn your attention to your computer. You still have to finish up all your other wrap-up before you get to Dorsey. As you put your nose to the grind, Mary wishes you a happy break on her way out. She's followed by a speckled succession of eager coworkers, ready to begin their time off. 

Your eyes haze as the glare of your screen feels brighter with each passing second. You have a prescription but never a change to fill it. You don’t imagine the neglect is making your vision any better. 

The office grows desolate as you continue plucking away. As the snow falls on the other side of the windows, they dampen out the noise of the city. You’re isolated in your focus. The files for Dorsey are a complete mess. You're not sure how anyone could fail to balance a spreadsheet. There are very easy formulas to do the work for you. 

Mulling over mistakes won’t fix them. Your fingers flutter over the keys as you painstakingly restart the entire workbook from scratch. You’re disappointed, not that you’re stuck in the contradictingly uncomfortable ergonomic chair, but that you won’t get to see your kids or husband for more than an hour or two if that. 

You close your eyes as the gridlines burn into them. You lean back and rub your brows. There’s tension sewn into your brows. It’s grim how getting older really dims the sparkle of this time of year. Everyone else gets to be happy and you’re just the courier of that happiness. Maybe that should make you happy, that you can be that for them. 

No, it’s just exhausting. 

Before you can open your eyes or sit forward, you let out a yelp at the sudden warmth on your shoulders. You twitch and look up at Jensen as he stands behind your chair. Your heart quickly calms. 

“Oh, what are you still doing here?” You ask, a tremor of fright in your voice. 

“Back-end work,” he answers as he squeezes your shoulders. His touch is unexpected. You wiggle but he doesn’t let you go. “What about you?” 

“Just some last-minute quality control,” you answer. “You really snuck up on me.” 

“Ha, yeah,” he slowly drags his hands away, his fingers caressing your neck lightly. “Sorry, I... I didn’t know anyone else was here.” 

“Yeah, it’s quiet,” you agree. 

He leans on the back of your chair as his proximity clouds you. It’s a bit awkward. You just want to get your work done but can’t bring yourself to tell him to go away. Especially knowing what you know. He doesn’t deserve any of that just because he can be a bit different. 

“What about your family?” He asks. 

You wince and turn the chair to face him. You shrug, “I’ll be a bit late but they’ll survive without me.” 

“Sure, sure. You must be excited to spend time with them,” he lets go of your chair and backs up a single step as you look at him. 

“Yeah, it’ll be nice to see them a bit more,” you agree. “What about you? You doing anything for the holidays?” 

He shakes his head as his lips thin, “no. Don’t really got anyone.” 

“Ah, well, it’s always a good time to catch up hobbies,” you offer. 

He nods and his throat bobs. He shoves his hands into his pockets. He looks sad in that moment. He’s still pretty young, you want to tell him to enjoy singlehood while he can. Yet you remember being in your late twenties and how those comments just made you feel worse. All the same, that feels so long ago. 

“I know what you did,” he says. 

“Pardon?” You sputter in confusion. 

“I know Alan got me. I overheard him when we got our names.” 

“Oh,” you’re speechless but for that single syllable. 

“It’s alright. I know people don’t always get me but... you know, you didn’t have to do all that just for me,” he shifts sheepishly on his feet, his cheeks tinging as he looks at the floor. 

“Well, it isn’t fair, is it?” You say. 

“Yeah, but...” He looks up shyly from behind his glasses, “you must be a good mom. And a good wife.” 

You’re not sure how to reply, “thank you? I try.” 

“Your kids and husband are very lucky,” he smirks. 

“Sure, I’m not sure they think so,” you say. “Waiting around for me to come home...” 

You go to turn back to your desk, but he’s quicker than you. He startles you as he grabs the arm of your chair and keeps you facing him. You press yourself against in as he bends over you. 

“Doesn’t sound like they appreciate you,” he says. 

“Jensen,” you murmur, “that’s... no, they’re my family. They do.” You spread your fingers over your thighs nervously. “Can you back up?” 

You cry out as he answers the question by pushing your chair back against the desk. The impact jars you as he leans in, closer and closer. You flatten yourself to the thin cushion and he plants a kiss on your forehead. 

“I appreciate you,” he whispers, his nose tickling your hairline.  

“Jensen, please, that’s not--” 

“Shhhh,” he hushes you as he drops to his knees before you. “I disabled the cameras...” 

“Jensen, what?” You squirm and grab the armrests. You try to push yourself to your feet and he slaps his hand against your stomach, shoving you back down. “Get off--” 

“They don’t treat you right. No one does.”  

"Jensen, that's sweet of you to say but please--" 

"Let me be sweet to you," he begs as he clings to your knees, thumbs sliding under the hem of your skirt.  

You grab the fabric as he tries to slide it up. You put your other hand on his chest as you sit forward. "No, okay, I know the holidays are hard but--"  

"I just wanna give you a gift. Since you gave me one," he purrs.  

"It's-- no, okay," you grab his wrist and your other hand slips up to shove his shoulder. "I'm married." He bends his head to brush his chin against your knuckles, like a cat eager for pets. The gesture fills you with pity, but cannot undercut your revulsion. "I said--" You push him again and he twists his arm free of your grasp.  

He grabs your wrists and lifts your hands. He squeezes and you feel his strength; even if he wasn't younger, you'd be just as helpless. He pulls your arms and puts your hands against his head. You feel the soft short bristle and shudder. He covers your hands with his and holds them snug.  

"Don't let go," he commands. His voice deepens, a razor's edge in his words. You stare at him dumbly. You don't dare disobey. It's as if your body is not your own as it refuses to respond to your fear. That inner plea is smothered by the pounding of your heart.  

He lets you go cautiously and drops his hands to your thighs. You flinch and let out a squeak. He glides down the pushes his hands under the fabric, hooking it with his thumbs as he forces it higher. You shiver at the sensation of his palms against your stockings.  

As he grazes along the naked skin above, you whimper. He hooks his hands around your hips and runs them under you, lifting you slightly to rumple your skirt below your waist. You shake as your hands remain glued to his head. 

You watch yourself from above as the scene plays out. The dimples in your thighs quake as horror floods your body. He slowly bends to press the tip of his nose against the front of your panties. He prods you through the fabric and hums. He swirls around, teasing you through the tenuous layer. 

Your hands fall away but he doesn’t notice. He’s too fixated on his prize. He tilts your hips, pulling you down in the chair as he moves your legs around him. Your lip trembles and your teeth grit, eyes hot in disbelief and disgust. How is this happening? 

He brings your knees over his shoulders then runs a finger up the back of your plain white cotton panties. The type that hardly get your husband in such a furor. He traces the edge and tugs it aside. 

You cry out as his tongue flicks along your folds. It feels like the first time all over again. You’re not neglected, just overworked and overtired. You don’t have the energy or the time. It doesn’t mean you’re lonely. Just busy. 

He pushes his face deep and laps you up, spreading his tongue as he tastes you with a growl. You clench the armrest, your other hand catching the top of his head as you try to urge him away. You croak and your cries crackle in the air. 

“Jensen,” you squeal. 

He pokes his tongue along your entrance and drags it up to your clit, then back down again. The tendrils crawl down your thighs as he reaches blindly for your hand. He moves it behind his head and presses it there. As he does, he nuzzles into you. 

He wiggles his head as he drinks you up. Your legs tense and your fingernails dig into his scalp between the short stubble of his hair. His glasses are crushed against your pelvis, forgotten as he devours you. You whine and close your eyes but you can still see yourself, like you’re watching a movie in your head. 

You see yourself giving in, melting into him, clinging to him as the coil winds tighter and tighter. As your orgasm builds, you feel yourself splitting into two. There is the body curled up in the chair, wrapped around his head, and the consciousness watching from outside.  

And it all evaporates into pleasure. Into forgotten wrongs and broken morals. Reality gives way to escape as you give into the stolen delight erupting from head to toe, as you give in to this man on his knees before you, begging you with the flick of his tongue. 

[merakiui]

ex-husband floyd thoughts...

in which you're living alone with your daughter. it's been two years since everything, and you're all settled. it took a while to truly feel secure and stable, and you received lots of help from family and friends. surprisingly (or maybe not), floyd's twin brother was one of the first to extend a helping hand. it's mostly thanks to him that you were able to have enough money to pay the first few months of rent at your new apartment. but now you're back on your feet, and things have never been better.

your daughter didn't understand it when you told her she'd be living with you from now on. awkwardly, you tried to explain that papa couldn't come with because he was getting involved with some bad people, and that was dangerous. your daughter didn't understand or believe you. it was difficult. you know how much she adored her papa and how much he adored her. but this is for the best. this is safe.

following the divorce, your daughter started saying strange things. things like "i saw papa today and he made me a yummy lunch!" you tell her this can't be; that was the babysitter, not floyd. besides, the dishes are clean and everything is stocked as it normally is. there's no evidence floyd could have been here. furthermore, he doesn't even have a key and your daughter isn't tall enough to reach the doorknob to let him in. your daughter calls you a liar and storms off most days because you refuse to believe her stories. that's all they are, really. she's just missing her papa.

you told floyd you had no problems letting him see her so long as he cleaned up his act and stopped getting involved with delinquents. seeing as it's been two years and floyd's still running from people, you (as a parent) have a responsibility to keep your daughter safe. and you know it's terrible for her and floyd, but this is the best option you can think of. the safest option.

floyd thinks that's bullshit because he can protect you and his daughter plenty, but then he gets it. you never liked the shadows that accompanied his surname. he understands. but he thinks it's awfully unfair of you to just cut him out of your life when he promised you he'd change and do better and be better. :/

he sees how hard you work, how rough it gets when you haven't been paid yet. he has jade send you money because he knows you don't want to see him, and most of the time you accept it. but sometimes it's sent back, accompanied with a note thanking him for his generosity and that you can manage by yourself. again, floyd knows this is bullshit.

his shrimpy works so hard. :( you deserve a break.

so when you're sleeping every night, he pays your apartment a visit. you've started sleeping on the couch most nights, with the tv still on, your work spread out on the coffee table, your daughter tucked away in her bed... it's hard being a single parent, isn't it? why don't you stop being stubborn and let him back into your life? floyd will take good care of you. he always has, hasn't he?

he carries you to bed and tucks you in, cleans up the room, stacks your books, prepares a meal for you to heat up tomorrow at work, etc. and how do you respond to his kindness? you go and change the locks without saying anything.

so next time floyd thinks he has no choice but to be drastic. so next time floyd will make sure you understand that there is no life worth living if it's not you and him together. as a pair. as a whole. you might be frightened when he wakes you up in the middle of the night to drag you back to his home (to your home) and you might continue to be scared of him when he confines you to the basement, but this is for your own good. think of your daughter! she deserves to grow up with both parents. at the very least, be good for her sake.

floyd tells your daughter that you're in perpetual timeout because you've been bad and she believes him. after all, it was you who refused to let her spend more time with her papa. that's a very bad thing to do!

floyd brings you your meals, carries you to the bath, bathes you, dresses you... you scowl at him the entire time, call him crazy, tell him to get away from your daughter, refuse to eat, fight him every time he tries to undress you for the bath. he smiles, eerily patient, and simply says, "i'm willing to letcha see her once you've cleaned up your act. you can do that, can'tcha?"

[halfwayhearted]

…What Are We? — Pablo Gavi.

Pairing: Pablo Gavi x Fem!Reader

Summary: Four months into your guys’ relationship, the realization that you’re not a priority is hitting you harder than you expected. You decide it’s time to talk to him about it.

Word Count: 690+

Disclaimer/s — Angst… angst… angst…

A/N: OHHHHHHH YEAHHHHHHHH.

Things between you and Gavi were going… okay.

Okay, because it wasn’t going badly per se, but it definitely wasn’t going, well, good. With him slowly getting back into training and practice, you wouldn’t be able to see him as much, which was fine. He was happy, and you were happy for him.

Though, with that, confirmed one of your doubts: that he would start treating you like you weren’t there. He would simply wake up, eat, get ready, and then leave for hours and hours, only to come back and do nothing but shower and go to sleep.

He just couldn’t bother making any time for you.

And at first, you understood. This was quite literally his passion—something he loved and was finally able to get back into after such a difficult journey. He deserved this. You knew he did.

But after a couple of weeks of silent, empty days and painfully lonely nights, missing the comforting warmth of your boyfriend’s presence, you realized you just couldn’t bear it anymore.

Fortunately, you had managed to secure at least thirty minutes with him, your back turned to him as you prepared a quick and easy breakfast.

Do you just… go for it?

Yes!

“So, I was wondering if you wanted to go out this weekend? It’s been a while since our last dinner date.” The question was met with only silence.

Looking over your shoulder, you felt your smile slowly fade when you saw he was packing up his bag, paying zero attention to you. The usual. You just wanted one weekend with him, to solidify that your relationship would be fine, that this wouldn’t actually break something so, so good.

“Gavi?” You uttered with a frown, taking out a plate and carefully placing the food from the pan onto it. No answer, yet again. “Hey, Pablo, I'm—”

Lifting his head, his gaze falls onto the plate in your hand. He takes a few strides toward you and gently grabs hold of it. “Looks good, thank you.”

Your heart drops. “Did you, uh, hear what I said?”

“This weekend,” he states, “I’ll be busy, I’m sorry.”

Busy. He’ll be busy, of course. Wringing your hands together nervously, you say, “It’s just one night. I thought practice ended early then.”

The man runs a hand through his tousled hair. “It usually depends. Maybe another time, yeah?”

“Right, yeah. Well, that’s what you said last time.” You hadn’t meant to say that. The way he stiffens tells you all you need to know. “I just—I… feel like we aren’t spending a lot of time together lately.”

All he does is stare at you, unsure of what to do or say. You were clearly disappointed. Not in him. He knew that. Just in how things have been. “I know, and I’m sorry. But practice is going really well for me, and I might even have a chance to play soon.”

“I’m happy for you,” you quickly replied. “I am, I promise. I love that you’re finally able to do what you love again. I just don’t want it to ruin this. What we have, you know? I mean, four months, I don’t want that to just, I don’t know, be gone.”

His eyebrows pinch together. “Well, me neither. Listen, I just don’t have time, okay? It’s not you.”

“Why is it so hard to make time? I miss you.” Your voice breaking with defeat. Keep it together.

He breathes out your name and slings his bag over his shoulder, like he couldn’t be bothered to actually stand there and communicate with you. “It’s just hard, that’s it. It’s hard balancing this. I have to go, but we can talk about this later.”

If your heart hadn’t dropped before, it certainly did now. After saying that, he placed a small kiss to your cheek before exiting your apartment.

His breakfast still sat on the table, untouched and now cold, a silent testament to his absence.

You knew ‘later’ wouldn’t come. This was a habit.

There was nothing else you could do about it now. You let out a sigh and slumped into a chair.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @pedrilcvr ! ౨ৎ

[sandsorghum]

synopsis: Higuruma makes *you* breakfast in bed for the first time

wc: 1.7k tags: fluffy! (unlike his eggs) . established relationship. romance.

a/n: inspired by @breekento's absolutely lovely photoset. a lil idyll, a smidge of indulgence. i couldn't help myself when he's so boyfriend-shaped [to the best of his abilities because...it's higuruma after all]

You were both supposed to be paying off some fairly massive sleep debts;and you hadn't even been incurring them in the usual fun ways.

The tradeoff of being slumber deprived to be a little depraved - ok, maybe more than a little - was hardly a dilemma for you and Higuruma; something you had figured out together early on in your relationship. Just one more way the two of you complemented each other, a pair of stubborn night owls turned lovebirds.

But work has been brutal; you're up to your neck in revisions to proposals for the sustainability bureau, and Higuruma's latest case had him building his defense strategy from scratch twice over now.

You can't remember the last time you shared a dinner that wasn't microwaveable. And pretty soon even the heaps of instant ramen packets were replaced by looming piles of onigiri wrappers, threatening to spill out of the bins - because fiddling with tiny sachets of powdered soup and rinsing out pots became too much of a luxury. So it was lots of take out, and very little making out.

You came to cherish the front doorstep to your apartments, a sacred altar where your bodies crossed each other in the morning bustle, swift as pedestrians, surrendering to serendipity; yet Cupid's best efforts could only conspire to the briefest, briskest brushes of your mouths before you hurried off towards your hectic jobs.

Evenings fared little better. Slouching past where he'd be collapsed on the couch at 2am, you'd drop a peck on his forehead when you could, if you had the strength to peel back the post-its with comments on penal code sections and the stacks of annotated alibis, gentle in your excavation of the mountainous documents, even as you know there's never any erosion of Higuruma's workaholism.

So you got good at deciphering the same crabbed handwriting on the fridge's notepad, mostly apologies and promises, before they dwindled down to hasty scratches of frowny emojis, blotting out dates on the calendar. All of it sincere, and all of it thwarted.

Weeks grated by like that, with their numbing addendums of cancelled grocery lists and rainchecks, strings of his snarky texts and your grumpy selfies becoming the lifeline of your relationship.

A month or maybe two, passed and finally, finally the pitches were accepted, as were the plea deals. Surely things could go back to normal now?

So, when you rolled over this morning anticipating a long overdue snuggle against Higuruma's chest, to instead find only a cold spot on his side of bed, the chagrin prickles through you so sharply it pierces through the groggy fog of sleep you still very much need.

"Hiro..." The pillows, absent of even his scent have the further audacity to muffle your grumble. But then you feel a slightly self-conscious chuckle roll honeywarm over your spine, and the dip of the bed as it welcomes the return of a weight that never should have left it at this hour.

"Sorry darling, I got hungry. Figured you might be too."

Your head creaks to the side, a warm scent wafting through the final defenses of your pillow fort. It's one you haven't smelled in a very, very long time.

"Masako's?"

Higuruma chuckles at the disbelief in your voice, still slumber-hoarse.

"That's right, made the pilgrimage all the way to Yoyogi. Just for you."

You hear the scrape of a knife and a rich, buttery aroma mingles with the morning air. Then you hear Higuruma's voice, dredged in huskiness from his drowsiness, drawling close to your ear. "So, forgive me yet?"

Your huff is already half buried in the pillow as you turn away from him and Higuruma sighs, wishing you'd at least treat him to your scowl. But he'll play along, after all it's been a while since the both of you could squander a morning on feigned pettiness.

"It's cute when you pretend to hold out on me," he muses, teasing his fingers through your locks before a heated palm comes to cup your cheek. "But the bagels are getting cold."

You can't help leaning into Higuruma's touch, purely instinctive, a vine supine toward its sun. But still you manage to mutter, "W'er s'posed to cuddle this mrngh."

You feel the grin in his voice long before it sneaks up to the corner of your lips. "We'll have the whole day to cuddle..."

Higuruma's aquiline nose dips down your neck, stopping just short of the spot he knows elicits a hitch in your breath. "Or not cuddle."

Drat him, and those nimble fingertips, just starting to skim beneath the hem of your shirt, summoning butterflies so swiftly you're uncertain if the swoop in your belly is from their innocently tickling antennae, or his digits' dexterous pretense of roaming your skin idly.

"For now, I'd like you to acknowledge the attempt I'm calling an omelette."

Now that has your eyes snapping open and jolting upright, shuffling around to stare at your partner who, for all his towering intellect, has never been able to distinguish a whisk from a sieve.

"You cooked? I didn't hear anything. What happened, were the batteries dead in the smoke alarm?"

"I'll have you know I actually replaced them recently."

Your skepticism retreats as you register Higuruma's mildly wounded expression. He turns to the side table, retrieving a breakfast tray and setting it before you. True, the yellow oblong by the perfectly browned discs is a little squat and misshapen, but it's distinctly missing the burnt, greasy odour you've come to reflexively associate with even his best attempts.

But this morning, you aren't even seeing any flecks of black. In fact, you start to notice the specks of green.

"Scallions?"

You raise the dish, squinting at the garnish, before lowering it to stare at Higuruma.

"Who are you and what have you done with my lover?"

"I guess I'm just some other man who's fallen for the charms of your terribly exacting egg standards," he deadpans, ruffling your hair and pressing a fork into your hand. "Now dear, if you'd be so kind as to make your judgment."

You take a sip of tea, made exactly how you like it (black, half a teaspoon of sugar, sans milk or creamer - maybe this man seated across from you isn't an impostor after all) and once you've washed down your bewilderment, set to properly tackling breakfast.

You take a breath, and let your fork cleave through the omelette. It cuts through cleanly, and doesn't wobble once on its way to your mouth.

It's...edible, you decide. Serviceable even, provided you were getting served at a road side gas station. But then you remember who cooked it, which practically makes it a 3 Michelin Star meal.

"It's good. Properly seasoned and everything." You smile, taking another bite.

"So how many dozens of eggs did you go through before you achieved this masterpiece?"

Higuruma shakes his head and huffs, casting his eyes heavenward. "Oh ye of little faith."

"In my defense, this is a novelty, Hiro. You've never spoiled me this way before."

You chuckle, tweaking his cheek, and his put-upon morose expression falters, as affection glimmers in his eyes instead.

"Three-quarters are still intact," he informs you, watching you sip your tea.

"Three quarters of the carton?" Your lip curls knowingly around the edge of your mug, and something stirs within Higuruma.

"Of the tray," he confesses, pulling your hand into his, starting to rub soft circles against your wrist.

"Couldn't be too cautious, hm?"

"I had Wikihow's assistance. And it's not my first time cooking eggs, you know."

You chew on the bagel for a quiet, contemplative moment.

"But the first time serving them?"

Your partner shrugs, but the way he averts his gaze for a moment tells you what you need to know. You squeeze his hand, and he looks back up at you.

"Thanks, Hiro. For making the morning special." You brush your forehead against his, savouring his happy hum reverberating against your cheeks as you put the tray off to the side.

"With this display of confidence, maybe you could even try tamagoyaki some time."

"Well, now that seems a tad ambitious-" Higuruma begins to equivocate but you shut him up with a kiss, tossing off the quilts and clambering into his lap, your appetite truly having been awakened at last.

He lets your hunger rush over him, falling backwards as his tongue greedily clambers towards yours, feeling a burden lift as your weight presses him back into bed, as your hips settle into their slow, needy grind against his. He kisses you, drinks you in more deeply, tasting the tannins of the tea he'd over-brewed while fussing with that dang omelette, but mingling with your scent and sweetness, it's nothing short of the most potent ambrosia. Higuruma groans, he's been parched of your taste and starved of your touch for weeks and weeks and he wants - needs you to drain him of these reservoirs of ache and desperation that have been suffocating him for so long.

Delirium and his desire floods through you, Higuruma's hands skittering everywhere, almost antsy enough to shred the fabric off of you. Higuruma nips urgently at your lips and you let his tongue, his limbs, his scent coil around you, entwined in his essence and embrace. His name spills from you in shallow gasps, pleading for a minor reprieve from the pleasure, but he persists, busying himself at your nape, suckling eagerly, flint-edged nose and canines planting tender bruises. It's only when you flinch slightly from the overstimulation of his roving mouth that he relents, reluctantly, tipping your head back to assess his efforts.

He likes what he sees; Your skin glowing in roses, dewy with his sweat and spit. Your famished gaze, devouring him as he devours you

"Maybe you should spend more time in the kitchen after all," you giggle, running your hands through his scalp, and you feel that burst of familiar wet heat as Higuruma quivers underneath you, a sodden spot growing and twitching against your core.

He presses his lips to you once more, his smirk both scalding and saccharine as he murmurs, "Never mind my rudimentary culinary skills darling, I'm going to spoil you in all the ways you already know, and then some."

@houseofsolisoccasum

[gguk-n]

Wheels of Desire (Fernando Alonso x Lance Stroll's friend!Reader)

Summary- Finding an older man attractive is the oldest rule in the book, what if said older man is a little hesitant?

{Reader's POV}

Lance and I had recently made acquaintance through our fathers a few months ago. Since we were closer in age, we started to get along quite well. That's how I found myself at the Canadian Grand Prix. Did I know anything about cars? Nope. Did I know anything about Formula One? Nada. But was I supportive friend? Debatable. My dad wanted me at the race, I have an inkling they are trying to set me and Lance up but I believe that ship sailed a long time ago since he already has a girlfriend. That's Lance's burden to bear not mine, I'm here to keep up appearances.

I had the Aston Martin paddock pass slightly sway along as I strode to the hospitality. I did not know anyone here and that asshole didn't even come to greet me at the entrance. As I walked in, I spotted Lance. I smacked the back of his head, "You knew I came here for you, yet you wouldn't even come and greet me" I whined. "I thought you were a big girl" he laughed giving me a hug. "Whatever" I mumbled when my eyes met the man in front of me, who was also dressed in the same shirt as Lance. "Fernando, this is Y/N Y/L/N. Y/N, this is Fernando Alonso, my teammate" Lance introduced us. I smiled at him and shook his hand.

I pulled Lance to the side before whispering, "I didn't know your team was this hot" "He's old enough to be your dad." he pointed out. "He isn't my dad and my dad's way older than him" I explained. "Y/N come on" he whined. "Listen, you don't have to do anything, I'm pretty enough to handle it on my own, my only qualm is you hid that beautiful Spanish man from me" I said flipping him off. "How do you know he's Spanish?" he quizzed. "Accent and name, pay attention Strulovich" I sighed. "Now, if you'll excuse me I have a hot man to woo" I whispered and sauntered over to Fernando.

It was tragic honestly, even I could tell the way I was practically throwing myself at Fernando at this point and this man wouldn't even bat an eye. My spirit was starting to run low. But I wasn't giving up just yet, the weekend had just started and I had 2 more days.

Lance took me out to dinner to cheer me up. "In your defence, Fernando probably likes older women not infants" Lance chided. "I hate you" I seethed. "You're just hangry, here have a bite" he said placing a forkful of pasta in my mouth. "You do know how to cheer me up, Lancey" I hummed chewing on the food.

The dinner from last night made it on the tabloid, here, I am trying to woo Fernando and the tabloids are running a story of me and Lance. I think I might have to have a strongly worded letter with the said media houses.

Fernando seemed even more off than the last day; my jokes weren't landing, I couldn't even make him smile at this point. I found myself subconsciously chewing on my lower lip. "You're bleeding" Fernando said holding up a tissue to my lips. His fingers brushed past my lips and now sat on my chin as he added pressure to the wound. "What's got you so anxious?" Fernando asked. "Nothing" I shook my head. "Don't move, yet" Fernando reprimanded holding my head from the back in place with his other hand. I stood still, my brain running a 100 miles an hour, my eyes scanning his face which had creased in focus and his eyes laced with worry. He slowly moved his hand away to see the blood had stopped, I wish it hadn't. All I could think about was how maybe Fernando held your head as he kissed you aggressively.

Fernando left to talk to his engineers. I stood there staring at him until Lance came and closed my mouth. "You're drooling" he chided. "I mean how can I not? Look at him?" I chuckled. Lance just shook his head and walked away.

I spent the whole night formulating but I never came up with anything to at least peak Fernando's interest in me. None of my flirting was working.

I walked into the hospitality with my head down, it was Fernando who greeted me. "You don't look so good" he remarked. "Yeah, I didn't sleep much" I replied. "What's on your mind?" he asked. "Nothing, it's stupid" I brushed him off. "If it was that stupid why'd you stay up thinking about it?" Fernando quizzed. I felt so stupid and annoyed. Before I could open my mouth, Lance had come with a cup of coffee my saving grace. I moaned as I took a large sip from the cup. "You are the best" I said, warming my hands up against the cup. The weather had gotten colder due to the rain and the clothes I had worn were covered in a thin sheet of cold mist.

I watched them move about the hospitality get ready for the race, my eyes lingering on Fernando longer. I had only found out about him 3 days ago and right now, he was taking up an unprecedented amount of space in my head.

I tried to flirt with him as the day progressed but it seemed futile. He would brush me off or just laugh it off. I was starting to lose all hope. I lost all my hope at the end of the day when the team was packing up after the race. "You staying or leaving?" Lance asked. "I have a dinner date with your parents tomorrow and then I'll leave" I said. "Have fun" he remarked. "Aren't you coming too?" I asked. "Nope, I have plans" he said winking at me. I saw Fernando looking at me with sad eyes; I felt weird.

I was out at a bar finishing up my mocktail when I felt some one sit next to me. I turned around to find Fernando. "Hi" I greeted him with a smile. "I thought you were having dinner with Lance's family" Fernando pointed out. "Ah, that's tomorrow. I'm....free today" I said. Fernando seemed like he sighed a sigh of relief but I could be hallucinating. "I'll your finest wine and for the lady" he began now looking at me, "No, I'm good. I'll be leaving now" I said gathering my stuff. "huh....stay" he whispered in the moment the song changed.

I was shocked but I sat back down. "Why?" I asked. "You look like you don't want to be alone" he commented taking a sip of his wine. "I would like company, if I am being honest" I stated. "If you don't mind an old man's company, I'm here" he shrugged his shoulder. "You're not old and I would love your company" I smiled. "Did you drive here?" I asked. "No, taxi" he said. "Great! I'll have your finest champagne" I told the bartender. The two of us sat there enjoying each other's company.

After a while, we decided to exit the bar together; Fernando had called a cab and offered to drop me back. I'm not sure if it was the close proximity in the cab or the alcohol but when our fingers brushed I felt electricity course through me. I turned to see if he felt the same and he must've since he was staring at me. Without a second thought I crashed my lips against his. It took me a moment to realise but when I did, I suddenly pulled away, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that" I mumbled trying to put as much distance between us. "I...I....I thought you liked Lance" he muttered. "What? Eww!! He's like a brother to me. I've been trying to flirt with you since I laid eyes on you" I explained. "Really?" He asked. "Oh My God, did you think I'm that friendly to everyone?" I retorted. "I don't know" he mumbled running a hand through his hair. "Don't you think it's weird since I'm so much older than you?" he asked. I just shrugged, "I don't really look at people's ages" He looked hesitant. "Fernando, I wanna go on a date with you, I wanna date you, I wanna be your girlfriend, maybe" I spoke loud and clear. His mouth opened and closed a few time, "It's okay, take your time. Can I have your number though?" I asked hopeful. He took my phone entered his number and as the taxi driver pulled up to my hotel, Fernando pulled me in for a kiss. "I'm not completely sure but I think I want to go out on a date with you too" he muttered with a smile. "I'll be in Spain next month, see you then" I whispered kissing his cheek and exiting the taxi.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Would I be the asshole if I refused to pay my phone bill?

📱🧾♿️ <- To recognize my post for later :)

The title is probably already a bit of a red flag, but I genuinely didn’t know how else to word it…

For context: I am a disabled, chronically and mentally ill trans guy who recently turned 20. I haven’t left home yet for a lot of reasons, some being that my parents promised to let me live rent-free so long as I was in college (which I am, just not currently for the summer) as well as the fact that they really haven’t raised me to be very independent and rely solely on them (which is honestly a whole other can of worms), but primarily because of my disability. It isn’t safe for me to live on my own, as I faint commonly, cannot stand up for more than maybe fifteen minutes at a time roughly, and sometimes am unable to eat for long periods of time due to debilitating nausea which leads to weakness. I also have severe chronic pain in my limbs and gut, something I’ve had most of my life, while my chronic illness I’ve only had for about a year and a half now and am still struggling to adjust to.

Because of my disability, I also can’t work a traditional job. I offer art commissions online, because I’m very passionate about art and it’s one of the few things I’m good at, and I haul in a decent amount, but certainly not enough to live off of. I make enough to set aside some good savings (I’m currently saving for a wheelchair, as that might grant me more freedom and the potential to get a job at least for the summer) while also indulging myself in buying the occasional fatty treat (I’m very underweight so that’s not an issue, and I was raised essentially in an almond mom household all my life, so this form of eating is really the only sense of control I have over my life, as I’m fully dependent on my parents elsewise).

The issue has come upon relatively recently. I feel like a huge entitled brat for it as well, and if others believe the same, I sincerely don’t blame you.

My mom sat me down the other day and said that she expected me to start paying at least one bill. She offered my cheapest bill (which would be for my phone; my parents bought it, and it’s theirs, they’re just letting me use it as my own.. I don’t own a whole lot of “my” items myself) and asked what I thought about that. I was fully honest with her: if I had a steady stream of income, I wouldn’t hesitate to offer to pay for all of my bills, but with the way it stands, I just don’t make enough month-to-month to regularly afford the bill. I also do my commissions through my phone, so if I could afford the bill, my phone would be turned off, and I’d be unable to continue.

My mom got very upset and started talking to me like a child (though she really has every right to, honestly, and I know that). She went on a very long rant about teaching me responsibility, and how I can’t rely on my parents forever, and that I need to grow up at some point… All things that I fully agree with. I sincerely want to! I want nothing more than to be fully independent. But the way it stands, my parents cover my entire medical bills and they pay for my meds… And I just don’t make enough to survive on my own, and I can just barely afford a meal or two from a sandwich shop I enjoy twice a month to keep my sanity in check because I’m usually bedbound.

I tried explaining to her that I would if I could, sincerely, and that I’m not trying to be a leech or lazy, but she wasn’t having it. She just scolded me and said that if I can afford to eat out every month, then I can afford the phone bill. But again, with the way things are, I don’t think I’d be able to do it every month without tapping into my savings, which again, is for my wheelchair so I can regain some sense of freedom for myself. I’m seriously debating just telling her no straight out, but I don’t know what the aftermath might look like…

So, sincerely: Am I in the wrong here? Should I just swallow my protests and cough up the money somehow? I really don’t know and would love an outside perspective.

[steddieas-shegoes]

congrats on 3000!!! 🎉🍾🎊💖

For the sentence prompt: "I'm just gonna go freak out for a minute first."

Thank you!!!! ♥️

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Steve was holding his hand while the doctor checked his stitches. It wasn’t really that weird for him to be holding his hand, not since he woke up half-dead in the hospital.

It was a little weird that he was rubbing his thumb against the side of his thumb, though.

And probably a little weird that his other hand was resting on his head, a weight that was comforting and confusing all at once.

“Looks great, Eddie. I’d say by the next visit, we’ll be able to get them out and let these finish healing naturally,” the doctor smiled at him as he pulled his shirt back down.

Steve’s hand squeezed his, and he couldn’t help looking over at the sunshine in the seat next to him.

It had to be pretty obvious how he felt about Steve. He’s lucky none of the kids have caught on and started teasing him yet.

Robin has, but at least she knows to do it privately.

“I’ll have the front desk schedule you for two weeks out. You can grab an appointment card on the way out. Keep them all clean and don’t do any heavy lifting or physical activity quite yet,” the doctor reminded as she pulled off her gloves and threw them in the trash. “You boys have a nice day.”

As she left the room, Steve helped Eddie sit up slowly. He didn’t really need the help anymore, but he’d be an idiot to admit it with how much Steve touched him.

“Two more weeks, Eds! That’s better than what they thought last time,” Steve was so excited for him. His smile was lighting up the room and he looked five seconds away from bouncing on his feet.

“Yeah, it’s great.”

“Aren’t you excited?” Steve’s smile dropped at Eddie’s tone.

“Yeah! Yeah, it’ll be great to have less limits. Might be able to get the guys together for a jam session,” Eddie gave a small smile.

“But…?”

Eddie sighed. “But then you won’t be around anymore, right? Like, other than when we all hang out on movie nights. You only stuck around because no one else could really help me every day. Everyone had work or families that wouldn’t let them out of their sight.”

Steve looked heartbroken, and Eddie couldn’t figure out why.

“Eddie, I’m not gonna leave you just because you don’t technically need me anymore,” Steve shook his head. “We’re- we’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Of course! I mean, I thought so. But I know it could just be that you feel bad and I wouldn’t expect you to stick around because of that.”

Steve grabbed his other hand, his grip tightening on Eddie’s skin almost painfully.

“I wanna stick around for a lot of reasons, Eds.”

Eddie was caught in his gaze, his wide, pleading eyes almost too much.

“Like what?”

“Like because you’re fun to be around. You’re funny and talented and smart. You taught me about Hobbits! Love those guys,” Steve stepped closer. “You’re brave and you care about all of us. You-“ Steve swallowed. “You see me. The real me.”

“What do you mean?” Eddie’s heart was racing as he looked between Steve’s eyes, down to his lips where his tongue had poked out momentarily to wet them.

“You’ve seen me when my parents have come home and made me feel like shit and you just distracted me with singing whatever pop songs are on the radio and helping me cook dinner. You’ve been there when I had a two day long migraine and couldn’t even stand up to go to the bathroom. You made grocery shopping fun! I fucking hate grocery shopping, but you just keep being silly and making me laugh and I had fun.” Steve leaned in so his forehead was touching Eddie’s. “You laugh at my jokes, even when they aren’t that funny. You listen to me when no one else pays attention. You see who I am and you let me be who I am and I don’t feel scared that you’ll run.”

“I’m not running.”

“I know. I love that you aren’t, that you won’t.” Steve closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, they were watery. “I love you.”

Eddie was certain he was dead. Maybe the last month had all been some coma-induced dream and they finally pulled the plug. Maybe he actually died in the Upside Down and the last month was his final goodbye to everyone in his own head.

He stood up slowly, trying not to push Steve away, but having to guide him away from the table he’d been laying on.

“Where are you going? You’re not leaving, right?”

“Nope. I’m just gonna go freak out for a minute first.”

“Um.”

Eddie smiled, leaned in to kiss Steve’s cheek, and pulled away.

“Give me a minute. This is either the most realistic dream I’ve ever had or the best day of my life.”

Steve snorted, but let him walk to the door and stand outside of it for a moment.

When Eddie came back in, his cheeks were red, but he looked determined.

He pulled Steve into him by his hips, crushed their lips together, and smiled so hard their teeth clacked against each other. It was a little messy for a first kiss, but they could get better.

“You love me? Really?”

“I thought it was obvious,” Steve laughed as they pulled apart.

“I thought I was obvious!”

“Not really. I was convinced I was imaging things! Robin had to explain to me what the hanky code was before I even believed you liked guys!”

They both laughed so hard they cried, forgetting entirely that they were still in the doctor’s examination room.

Someone knocked on the door and they broke apart quickly, trying to stop the laughter for a moment to deal with whoever was at the door.

A nurse poked her head in. “Sorry, don’t wanna rush you, but just wanted to make sure everything was okay? Did you need to see the doctor again?”

“No, no. Sorry. We’re heading out. He just needed a minute,” Steve said quickly, smiling back at her.

She nodded and left, leaving the door open as a silent reminder that they needed to disinfect the room for the next patient.

“Steve.”

“Yeah?”

“I love you, too.”

“You don’t have to say it just-“

“I’m not. I’m saying it because I love you. I see you, remember? There’s a lot there to love.”

Steve turned a bright red, and Eddie decided then he would do just about anything to see that shade on Steve’s cheeks and neck as often as possible.

“Let’s go home,” Steve finally said when he recovered. “Wanna kiss you more.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

[drrden]

‘Study’ Leon Kennedy x Gender Neutral! Reader

I headcanon Leon was smart in highschool - in History majorly. So...

There's always bound to be that one student who pays attention to a hundred percent of the lessons taught, not letting their attention falter for even a brief moment. As if missing out on a split second's worth of information could tarnish their grades and ruin their entire future. In the majority of your classes, this is none other than Leon Kennedy himself, a friendly guy who's typically on the quieter side. Predominantly during lessons though, that is, since he refuses to let any of his friends distract him from achieving the best results in the exams that he can possibly get. Perhaps it's the desire to distance himself from his past, the one he's buried deep within himself, limiting to it a certain degree of obscurity. Figuring that, if he's academically successful enough, then he won't get roped up into some shady side of society; someone from his biological family's past might catch up to him one day. No way is Leon letting him continue the legacy of the family he admittedly misses more than anything, despite having lived with his adoptive parents for the majority of his life by now. All of this could be the reasoning, some twisted sense of inferiority to his classmates who had normal childhoods. Or maybe, just maybe, he's smart. Could just be as simple as that, he's just a guy wanting to do well in life - but it just appears to come unnaturally easily.

The class that he's most successful in at the moment is History, having a profound interest for events of the past, and how they've shaped modern society. And it just so happens to be one of the lessons you share with Leon, despite your enthusiasm not being as evident or intense as his. As any student with a desire to pursue other things than being shoved into a cramped yet quiet classroom would, you're not always in tip-top shape to be paying attention to every little detail. That's where a certain well-mannered American of Italian descent comes into the picture, being your study pal. Not that he exactly volunteered for the position for himself, but he didn't exactly have it in him to deny you of the privilege - being far too polite to let you fail any of the tests due to having no clue about some of the course content. Though it was imposed upon him suddenly a few months ago, he still puts effort into your weekly sessions; bringing flashcards for you to keep, with summaries neatly filling up the rectangular cardboard pieces. Which are all color coded by the way. For once, the topic you're studying is at least mildly interesting, since it's from a period spanning between just before World War One to a while after it. Despite this, the weekly meet ups between you and Leon persist.

Which is where the two of you find yourselves once again, nestled away in a quiet corner of the school's library - away from all the jocks throwing crumpled up balls of paper as if they're still in middle school. Leon flinches a little when he hears them in the distance, still having a sense of anxiety that they're going to come over here and disturb the one time he gets to talk to you. "So. Uhm. The Treaty of Versailles." The words not exactly tumbling from his lips, instead he speaks stiffly - like English isn't even his mother tongue, as if he's reading from an automated speech. Offering an encouraging nod, you urge him to continue, accustomed to the pattern of his timidness easing up the further you get into studying together. "Yeah, that's what we said you were going to go over today." A gentle reminder, and that's all it takes for him to straighten up, clearing his throat and glancing round; as if searching for the information on the cracked walls of the building. Snapping out of it after a short moment, his attention flicks back to you, nodding. "Ah, right. So...Germany were expected to face repercussions for starting the war in the first place." For a while, he rambles on about the reparations bill and how their army was limited to 100,000 men, all the basics as he gives you a rundown.

Reaching into his bag, he pulls out designated flashcards, decorated with little doodles and smiley faces, complimenting his endearingly messy handwriting. Leon passes them over to yours and you accept, fingers brushing against his momentarily - and you can almost swear you notice his unblemished cheeks redden partially. "You, uhm, seem to know a lot more about this than you do with other topics we've covered together." Though the sentence is more of a declarative, there's a tinge of a compliment within there, however he's much too unsure of himself to outwardly praise you. Not thinking much of it, you sheug, brushing the notion off with nonchalance. "Anything's better than learning about those art guys, Leonardo DiCaprio or whatev-" "Da Vinci." He corrects, eyes widening as he seems more caught off guard at his interruption than you are, having not meant to come across as rude. You him in response, not finding it not really offensive or anything, but Leon gets the wrong end of the stick. "Yeah-" "I'msorryIdidn'tmeantointerrupt." Being totally honest, you didn't really catch a word of that, but you've gotten the general gist that Leon's apologetic over one small interruption, but it's sweet in a way. Essentially panting over the exertion from speaking so quickly and letting his thoughts tumble out in an effort to soothe your nonexistent frustration.

It's like that awkward stage as a relationship is brewing, two people desperate to avoid any awkward silence when they're with the person who it's most enjoyable to talk to. But these introverted qualities only apply to Leon, and you offer him a blank stare - not deterred by his anticts in the slightest. Just continuing on as if nothing had happened. "Leon, it's fine." Though you brush it off, you can't help but notice there's a certain nagging feeling in you, sensing that his jitteriness is more prevalent than usual. "...Are you okay?" Following a quick glance around, you lean in and lower your voice; wearying over if someone else is around to hear. The answer is given, plain and simple, biting on the tip of his thumb and sharing his head frantically. "It's fine. Just the Literature test is coming up and I'm not exactly confident." Literature. You're actually decent at that, maybe he knows this already. Well, thinking of it now, there's not exactly been anything you've done to repay him. "I guess we could make our little rendezvous two times a week." A playful tease from you, but the suggestion is genuine. "And I do owe you a dinner, I guess." Looks like you'll be seeing a lot more of each other.

[sundaycentric]

JING YUAN AND NEUV!!!!!

(I too am down horrendous for them)

(seperate) neuvillette & jing yuan x reader

content ★ headcanons, NOT PROOF READ!!, sfw, fluff

note ★ SO REAL!! i love them both sm its unreal.. anyways im just going to do some basic headcanons and drabbles bc im abt to go to a dance and i need something quick to post.. other requesters i am working on your stuff!!

NEUVILLETTE ★

He has no idea what it's like to be in a relationship. He has no experience whatsoever, besides for the in occasional movies Lady Furina will force him to watch with her.

Neuvillette isn't that dumb to take the movies as reality, though. So, he ends up just being a mess.

Before you start dating, Neuvillette will try to his best to hide his feelings. He often times pushes you away, but the sky darkens not soon after. He feels torn.

Neuvillette doesn't even understand his own emotions. He can barely process what he feels, let alone name it. He's confused and worried. He thinks it's love, but what if he isn't? He's never felt love to know what it's like.

It'd take some time for him to start working through his feelings. However, he still keeps his distance. He tries not to make it obvious he is avoiding you, but someone sees through him easily.

It doesn't take long for Lady Furina to find out what's happening, especially considering how observant she is to drama. She'll pester Neuvillette about it a bit, laughing at his reactions. Neuvillette tries to appear indifferent, but the sky's definitely different from what it was before.

For all her teasing, Lady Furina does genuinely care about Neuvillette (and you). She will offer some advice to Neuvillette, even though her experience in romance is just as limited as his. At least Lady Furina can work out her emotions, though.

Gradually, Neuvillette accepts your presence and allows him to take pleasure in it. A month ago, he was doing everything to stay out of your way, but now is he practically near you every time he can be.

He tries not to talk to you too much, though. He gets flustered. Although you might not be able to see it on his face, you might notice the sky becoming brighter—way brighter than normal when you talk to him.

He will never confess first. Well, unless he felt like he had to to avoid loosing you. Other that that scenario, though, he will keep quiet until you say something

Once you do say something and confess your feelings to him, Neuvillette will be so happy. His face might be a little smile, but there is no rain for entire week and lot's of people are getting sunburnt..

He will try his best to keep you happy. Neuvillette is very big on communication since he doesn't always understand what you feel. He does try though.

Neuvillette still doesn't talk much about himself. Instead, he prefers to listen to you. Even the small, mundane things you did during your day put a smile on his face.

Overall, he is very kind and considerate. Maybe even too much. He's scared of hurting you or pushing you away because of how he is. That hasn't happened yet, though. :)

JING YUAN ★

He definitely knows what he is doing. He's had some experience in the past, both watching and doing. Although, it is different when it comes to you.

Jing Yuan took interest in you. He was curious. Why? He doesn't know himself. He just likes you presence. You remind him of his finches, maybe even lion sometimes.

He learns as much as he can about you without being seen as creepy. He'll pay attention attention to you at events or when he is in public. When he catches you staring at him, he feels warm.

Eventually, he begins to come up to you. Jing Yuan prefers to take things slow, and really wants to come up with some sort of strategy to win your heart. It's a bit hard, though. He doesn't want to manipulate you, you aren't his enemy.

Jing Yuan tries to keep things in his control, both so he can spend as much time with you possible and just because he likes it. He will pay for your lunches, buy you things you like, pay for your trips. Jing Yuan has enough money, and he is willing to spend it all if you ask for it.

He'll slowly try to become closer with you. He doesn't want to push you away. After all, Jing Yuan has all the time in the world to wait for you. He only hopes you'll actually go to him.

Jing Yuan seems more unfocused at work now. He is usually not paying attention anyways (as he is sleeping), but it's becoming a bit worse now. Lady Fu catches on quick and reprimands him.

Jing Yuan, in his tired state, tries to excuse himself before Lady Fu gets angrier. He ends up slipping and saying your name. The two of them stare at each other before Fu Xuan starts scolding him again.

Fu Xuan is mad at Jing Yuan, yes, but she cannot deny that she cares about Jing Yuan. So, she might peek into the future to see if the two of you are together. She refuses to tell Jing Yuan what she sees, but she smiles as soon as he leaves.

Jing Yuan may be first to confess. He is fine with either. In the case that he confesses, he'll laugh at the way your face lights up. If you confess first, he'll find it funny how you seem a bit unsure of yourself.

He will reassure you with a kiss on the cheek before telling you that he loves you. Jing Yuan will hug you tightly while he sleeps and take care of anything you need.

He is like a teddy bear. :)

He is attentive, and he always knows what you're feeling. He might tease you sometimes, but he is ultimately very sweet and protective over you.

Yanqing definitely looks up to you as another parental figure. Good luck with that.

Overall, very nice to sleep on. He'll take care of everything he can for you and treat you like a precious gem.

[rainbowsky]

On GG's album, and hints of what was to come

As everyone here likely already knows, I'm completely losing it over the news of a full album from GG. There's a lot more to all of this that I haven't yet discussed, so let's dig into it. I have thoughts...

Disclaimer: Most of what's discussed here is rumor and interpretation, and could be inaccurate. We'll find out what's really happening soon enough!

I never dared dream that GG would put out an album. I have been begging for crumbs of a song for years now, it would have seemed completely outrageous to dare to dream of an entire album!!!

But now that it's on its way, and I've heard more info/rumors about the release (more on that in a bit), I can look back over the past year and see some signs that have been there all along, of what's to come.

More on the release

Promo has already begun, and we now know more about the release schedule based on what's posted on the streaming platforms.

The songs will be released in 3 waves, with the first wave happening on the 12th, the next one on the 19th and the final one on the 26th.

The physical album is going to be coming in December, and there are some tantalizing rumors about what that will include:

The album cover was drawn by GG.

A Xiao Zhan Studio red gift box containing various items including postcards, t-shirts etc.

There will be a CD version and a limited edition vinyl version.

A music video is also rumored to have been completed. This has been confirmed, and will be premiering on the 12th.

Clues we've had all along

What's interesting to me is that for months I've been posting updates about changes to XZ Studio's business license, that have been clues to what GG might be up to.

In January a license was obtained to establish a domestic performance agency.

In March that license was expanded to include services for film production and live performances.

In June there were some legal trademark applications made, pertaining to office supplies, calendars and paper gift wrapping.

And now we know that he's releasing an album, at least some editions which will likely be sold with bonus gifts, paper products and packaging (I think this is a very credible rumor because if he's going the physical album route, it's likely designer GG will want to do special editions like this).

Licenses recently purchased protect the studio's exclusive rights to produce and sell such items.

We also know GG and his studio love to produce stunning high quality videos. Was there ever any doubt that he'd make a music video? Maybe even more than one.

Licenses purchased earlier this year give the studio the right to produce such commercial videos.

And there's another license that is associated with live concert performances! I think it's highly likely we'll see a concert from him in the coming year or two.

Generous GG

As Fat Shrimp mentioned, the songs will be free on streaming. This has made a big impression on some fans, and there has been a lot of discussion about it, and about how much this album will have cost to produce, for GG to give it away for free (here's a compilation of some of the comments via Nili, and another from Estefanita).

People have expressed so many thoughts about this. Everyone agrees that it's almost unheard of to give an entire album for free. One or two songs, maybe, but just as a teaser for the full album - which must be paid for.

A lot of people have talked about the 'old days' (ack, I feel old!) when people would buy physical albums, often after having heard only one or two singles on the radio (although where I'm from people could go into a record store and listen to the full album before buying).

They say that he's opening himself up to that evaluation before people are expected to commit to paying for it, and that it's very generous and honorable, but that it will also open him up to being heard more by passersby who wouldn't otherwise be willing to pay for the music - therefore expanding his possible audience.

I personally think there are a few possible factors contributing to why he chose to share his album for free:

To me, this feels almost like GG's bigger 'debut' as an independent solo singer. He's finally releasing music entirely on his own terms. He wants to share and celebrate that with the world, as a gift to the world and to the fans. "I'm here. Please enjoy."

He's inviting people to listen to his music and judge for themselves whether it's worthy of their investment. It goes along with his personality as someone who wouldn't want people to associate any sort of 'buyer's remorse' with something he's sold them. He's always saying, "people are free to like or to hate," and this is his way of giving people that choice without judgment. "Listen and if you like it, buy it. If you don't, that's fine too." By doing this he's likely to build a bigger audience than by doing a traditional release, because everyone has a chance to hear and evaluate him without any up-front investment.

He wants to avoid any possibility of a repeat of what happened with Spotlight, where he was criticized because fans were buying dozens of copies as a means of boosting sales, and then bragging that their idol was the biggest seller of all time. He doesn't want fans to spend all their money on his songs or on boosting his 'sales', nor does he want any perception that the success of his album was bought by fans.

He could be bargaining on making more overall sales via charging for only the physical copies than by selling both, due to the expanded interest a free release is likely to generate.

He has confidence in what he's created, and is happy to share it openly.

He's doing this out of the joy of it more than anything else, and money isn't a central factor for him.

To me this approach, along with the stated plans for rolling all of this out, feels like a marketing plan, and we all know GG has a professional background in that kind of thing.

Yes, all those other elements of artistry, generosity and magnanimity come into it as well, of course. Marketing is treated as a dirty word, but we must remember that every marketing plan is based deeply in the values and intent of the individual/organization doing the marketing, and is focused on their goals.

I feel that his plan will have considered the factors I mentioned, and will be aligned with his values, intentions and goals.

This is just my take on it, of course. Only GG and his studio really know for sure what his plans and goals are.

Can't wait!!!

Whatever his feelings or plans are, I can't wait to hear this album, I can't wait to buy it, and I can't wait to see what kind if interest and critique it generates!!

I also hope that this is just the beginning - that he will be releasing more music, and hopefully doing concerts in the future.

[1000plants]

Tell Me A Story

Bucky Barnes x reader (male)

Summary: Drabble based on this prompt: One person has been on the waiting list to check out a library book for months. The other person has the long-overdue book. The two coincidentally meet one day at the library.

Warnings- Some swearing

Word count- almost 2k

Author's Note- I liked this prompt then hated it then liked it again lmao

Masterlist

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“I’m sorry, sir…” The librarian sighs with an apologetic smile as you walk into the library. They had been dealing with your incessance for the past month- or longer, “We still haven't gotten the book back yet.”

The fact that they recognized you upon entry might have been more off putting, but it made your day go by much smoother. Not needing to go through the whole process of checking if the book you wanted was here yet… you'd take that even if it meant being known as that guy.

You had taken maybe all of ten steps into the library, it smelled heavily of parchment, ink, and that vague people smell. And goddamn it was one of your favorite things ever. Though, it was unfortunately paired with one of your  least favorite phrases ever-  it’s not in yet.

“Oh are you shittin’ me?” You grumble under your breath, tugging off your gloves as you walk towards the main desk. Your face was chilled from the brisk late autumn/early winter air. There were flurries starting outside and all you fucking wanted was the stupid Hobbit book.

It was a tradition you didn't even realize you had started with yourself. Right after Halloween, you devoted the following week to rereading the Hobbit. It started after your second year in college, you read the book by recommendation from a professor and just kept rereading it at the same time every year since. By that point, you had seen the movie plus all of the Lord of The Rings movies, but the books had evaded you. 

“Any updates, at least?” You sigh out, leaning your forearms against the high counters of the librarians desk, gloves loosely clutched in your hand. Sure, you could probably buy the book in just about any store… but that would most definitely ruin the experience for you. It was silly to think, but there was something about borrowing it from a library, a book used and loved by countless others before you, and curling up on your couch to read it in just a week that was absolutely heavenly for you.

The librarian shook their head ‘no’, causing you to dejectedly sigh and steal a quick glance around the main room, “The person who has it checked out is very overdue, unfortunately,” they laughed as they pulled up the book information on the computer in front of them.

“Yeah,” you dryly chuckle, trying not to misplace your unhappiness onto the worker who was just doing their damn job, they were probably just as annoyed by the delay as you were, “It was already a week overdue by the time I went to reserve it.”

You pulled your lips into a thin lined smile, slapping the desk lightly as you took a step back to leave.

Maybe you should just go to the bookstore, bite the bullet and just buy the damn thing. Then your new tradition could be digging it out of storage every year along with all your holiday decorations and -- “Oof-!”

“Oh, ‘m bad, sorry,” a deep voice mumbled from behind you. 

You had been so lost in your own thoughts you hadn't been paying attention to anything around you, and you just backed completely into some random guy. Nice going, idiot.

“Sorry, man,” you quickly say back, swiveling around instinctively holding out a hand towards him to make sure he hadn't fallen or something.

But… god, there was no way he would've fallen. No matter how quickly you backed into him. The man was at least 6’ tall, broad shoulders and seemingly built like a brickhouse. It might've just been the hoodie/jacket combo that added to his mass, but something in you said that the clothes were just accentuating how much he actually had.

You didn't even realize you had been staring at the man, he was walking just a few steps towards your left to the book return spot, and you wouldn't have snapped out of your trance unless you caught a glimpse of the book he had.

The Hobbit.

… this mother fu-

“Hey!” The librarian said with a cheery grin, holding out their hand for the book instead of letting him drop it into the return area, “Looks like we do have it after all!”

The man doesn't really have a reaction as he hands them the book, seeming more confused than anything else. He glanced at you and gave you a slight smile - a smirk? Maybe?

“Y-you…” You started to mumble out, eyes locked on your prize as the librarian scans it.

“Been waiting for it long?” He asks, rubbing the back of his neck as he also watches his book getting checked in. There was a slightly embarrassed blush across his cheeks, or it could be from the cold perhaps. He swiftly pulled out his wallet to pay the overdue fee, which was probably a decent amount by this point.

“Just over a month,” you huff out, stepping to the side to let him pay as the librarian reads out the amount he owes.

You knew you shouldn't really say anything, you’d finally get the book you'd been looking for and could fulfil this little tradition you had, "Could've returned it sooner,” You mindlessly comment.

Immediate regret sinks in, you press your lips firmly together and stare sheepishly at the countertop. It was the holiday season and you were being pissy about an overdue book.

But the man didn't seem too put off by your comment, he just chuckled and gave a half hearted shrug as he tucked his card back into his wallet. It was a black card, you noticed.

So this fucker had basically infinite money and was still unable to return a damn book on time?

“I should’ve, you're right,” He admitted simply, glancing at you as he leaned against the counter. He was getting comfortable, almost like he was analyzing your moves the same way he’d analyze a book. It forced you to step closer to him to get the book checked out.

“But, in my defense,” He adds, glancing at you with a hint of a smirk on his lips. It was hard to see his face since he had a hat tugged over his head, but you could tell he had a light beard and longer brown hair, “I never have to deal with anyone else impatiently waiting for it.”

You wanted to roll your eyes, but the realization that you finally had your book was lifting your spirits more and more. You couldn't help the softer smile that overcame you as you worked to get out your library card, the familiar worn out cover of the book filled you with a simple kind of warmth.

“Its… its just this stupid tradition I have,” you explain, holding your card under the reader while the librarian stamps the inner book cover, “I read it the same time every year.”

He nodded, almost reverently as if the book was just as important to him. Which, it might be, you don't know. You notice his lingering gaze on the book, “Good tradition.” He simply comments.

You also nodded, feeling a little less embarrassed by your attachment to the book. You were both quiet as you took the book from the librarian, you held it tightly. The worn cover felt familiar against your fingers and palm, still slightly warm since it had been hot potatoed between people. 

“You… you like the book, at least?" You finally mustered up the courage to actually speak directly to him. You hold up the book, taking a few steps away from the counter if someone else needs the checkout desk. The sudden feeling of sheepishness that had settled in your body was something you hadn't expected. Your heart beat a little faster, a little harder, and you were grateful for the book to hold onto so that your hands didn't fidget.

The man followed you, a bigger grin across his lips as he nodded enthusiastically, “Oh, yeah! It’s a great book. I- I’ve read it a bunch of times,” He admits, locking eyes with you.

He shifted on his feet a few times, maybe jitters that matched your own, or the chill from the outside as he tried to get his blood pumping again.

“I’m… I’m sorry for, uh, keepin’ it checked out for so long,” He mutters again, turning his head to look away from you.

You softly smiled, lightly tapping the book against his arm, not noticing the distinct sound of metal, “I know I sounded a little pissed, but it’s not really a big deal. I’m, uhm, sorry I overreacted.” You were still feeling bad. This man had been nothing but kind and you clearly woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

“You had the right to be pissed,” He snorted. There was a beat of silence between the two of you. You crossed your arms lightly over your chest, and he mirrored it a moment later.

“Uhm, what's- uh, what's that tradition you were talking about?” the man stuttered out. You would call it flustered, but you wern't about to get ahead of yourself.

“Uh, right,” You say, your voice was a little more airy than usual, “It’s, it’s nothing crazy,” You look down at the book in your hand, then back to him, “In college a teacher had me read it, and I just liked it so much I kept reading it in mid November, gets me in the holiday mood for some reason.”

The word November made the man suck in air through his teeth, he shoots you a sheepish smile, “I hope early December is good enough?” He teases.

“December is definitely fine, don't worry…” You trail off, looking at him expectantly for his name. This mystery man who had been harboring your book wasn't goin to stay a mystery to you for much longer.

“James- ah- Bucky. Everyone calls me Bucky,” He quickly offers, his smile growing a bit more. The way his eyes widened with excitement reminded you of a dog. He prompts you for your name nd when you tell him he repeats it back softly. Like he was testing how it sounded.

“...I like that name,” Bucky whispers.

Normally, the unrestrained smile on you face, the heat in your cheeks, and the butterflies in your stomach would make you recoil. But feeling them for Bucky felt more right than wrong. Hell, it didn't feel wrong at all.

And maybe that's why you felt bold. Maybe it was the relief of getting your book that prompted your next move… maybe it was the holiday spirit.

“It’d look a lot better in your phone,” You confidently say, for once your shaky voice didn't betray you. You hold out your hand, nodding slightly for him to give you his phone.

Bucky quickly pulled out his phone, not once taking his eyes off of you, like you'd disappear if he did. You had to bite back the laugh at how may times he nearly dropped his phone as he fishes it out for you.

Once you get it, you punch in your number and name. You hand it back to him, catching a glimpse at the time, which tells you you need to get going. You clumsily gave your excuse, waving to him briefly as you turned to make your way out of the library. With your back to him, you didn't need to hide the goofy smile that had been making your face ache the entire time. 

It wasn't until you were about a block away, huddled in your coat with your hands buried in your pockets to hide from the chill, you then felt your phone vibrate. Checking the message from the nameless number made your heart soar.

Youre right, it does look good. But the phrase “Want to grab coffee sometime?” might be better. -Bucky

[freyito]

ᴛʀɪᴄᴋ ᴏʀ ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛ! ⨟ ɪᴅɪᴀ ꜱʜʀᴏᴜᴅ

✭ pairing(s): idia shroud x gn reader

✩ in which: he celebrates halloween with you.

✧ a/n: i got attached to this Guy overnight and i need to take a bite out of him. Anyways!

✦ taglist: @shinysora

→ trick or treat masterlist

🗒 cw: gn reader, just fluff :P, maybe a little ooc? (havent read ignihyde's chapter yet ((so many idia vignettes tho)), not proofread

✎ wc: 677

Trick

Well, for one, Idia is absolutely, positively, against any party whatsoever. He’s not here for the hype week, he’s in it for the candy and showing off his cosplay skills. As such, unless you are in his room at all times, he kind of sucks at communication during Halloween Season. Which means unless you want some alone time (or he kicks you out), you’re bunking with him quite a bit. No matter how much he protests.

You might get dragged into his games, especially with their Halloween events. If even one of them has a co-op or invitation event, you’re pushed into making a new account or joining him. And you must, at least, run dungeons with him 10 times a day. He has to stay at the top of rankings somehow! And you’re his key to that, one that he’s not necessarily willing to give up, either.

He also tends to buy extra candy. What, to give away? No! He’s hoarding this stuff like a dragon and it’s pile of gold. Sure, he’ll give you some, but if he has to play nice, he’s doubling his pay. In gummy worms. Oh, and he gatekeeps any gummies from other people. Not you, of course, you can take as much as you want (as long as you leave him some of the blue raspberry or cherry flavored ones). But, this leads to an excess of candy bags just… chilling in his room now. Not that he tosses them wherever he wants, he has a carefully crafted system, you know. But sometimes there is something known as too much candy.

Treat

Despite all of that, isn’t Idia the best person to hang out with during Halloween? With all his dedication to his costume, it comes out genuinely wonderful. He spent most of his time working on the finer details, one of the truest adaptations of… which character was it again? You’ve heard so much of this character that it feels like your brain has fizzled out. Regardless, his costume is still amazing, you’re a little jealous. And you’re sure you’ll hear much more about the character, and you’ll be subjected to watching the show regardless. Not that you mind.

You are in for a nice and cozy night, however. After the parade is done and Idia’s social battery is thoroughly drained, all he wants to do is either sleep (which he can’t because he’s gorged himself on candy), or finish up the events on his games to make sure he stays at the top of the rankings. Once he’s finally free of his costume (after about an hour…), he takes a couple of minutes in your arms, laying on top of you like a massive pillow, while he mutters something about his costume and what not. After about half an hour, he’s up and at ‘em, back at his game. Perhaps he’s realized how he’s neglected you over the month, and so he does his best to include you in his gametime, whether you choose to play with him, or simply sit on his bed and listen to what he has to say.

Before the sugar wears off, Idia is suddenly cramming in a last minute grind session, hopping from server to server to kill the event’s boss as the minutes tick down. Even as he’s fighting sleep, he’s kicking monster ass and topping the rankings. You can feel yourself slipping into sleep until he jolts you awake with a loud “YEEESSS!”. Almost immediately after that leaves his mouth, he’s apologizing profusely to you in a soft voice, completely forgetting about his game and slinking over with his hands out like he was calming down a scared horse.

With his win secured, he slips into bed easily. Which is earlier then he usually falls asleep, about a couple more hours before. But he’s won top ranking player during almost every event for three years in a row, and perhaps it’s time to celebrate (by sleeping early– and sleeping in even later), and also apologize for waking you up so abruptly.

© freyito, 2024 | masterlist | queue | kofi | discord server | star header by roseschoices DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN, REPOST ON ANY OTHER PLATFORM, OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Hear the lonely cry out

requested: for some azriel angst, maybe the reader getting pregnant but not telling az (for justifiable reasons ofc), and az only finds out later on and angst ensues?

a/n kind of feel like this might be the saddest thing I've ever written. I hurt myself while writing this so now it's your turn. So that's that...

warning: neglect, fighting, pains associated with pregnancy, nausea, mention of possibility of loosing a child and just suffering.

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"Baby, you need to sleep," you said, running your hands down your lover's shoulders. Azriel had been sitting in that chair for hours, going through the information his spies had gathered for their master. He didn't even come down to eat, nor did he eat the food that you brought up for him. You knew him well enough to know that when court responsibilities got this serious, reaching him was practically impossible. 

"I'll be there in a couple of minutes. You can go up, love," the spymaster said, catching your hand in his and bringing it to his lips, yet his eyes didn't lose focus on the paper he held in his hands. You knew it was a lie. He wouldn't be there for at least a couple more hours, maybe till the sun started to peak over the mountains. Get an hour of sleep, and then be off for a day of meetings.

Leaning in, you pressed a kiss to the side of his face before you turned to go. You've had conversations about his workload more than once. And gods forbid you weren't the one to complain. Azriel was an extremely attentive lover. He remembered the things you told him. Listen to what you have to say. He treated you well, and for the most part, you genuinely had nothing to complain about. It was those busy weeks that would turn into months that would make you feel like you didn't have a partner. Make your heart sting just a little.

Instead of going to the bedroom, you made your way back into the kitchen for some tea. For the past couple of days, you have been feeling rather odd. You didn't feel all that sick; it was more like an overall unpleasant feeling that you just couldn't shake off. But if you were being honest, you didn't pay it too much attention considering the little cramping in your lower stomach. And knowing your not-so-regular cycle, you wouldn't be too surprised if, due to the stress, it decided to knock on your door earlier.

Your gaze was drawn to the dining table, and a smile formed on your lips. When you moved here, Azriel had taken it upon himself to redo all the wooden furniture. The oak table was your mating anniversary gift. You had never seen a table so intricately carved with different ornaments of leaves and flowers. But still, what made your heart clench the most were the two letters carved into it. The first letters of your and Azriel's names. "We can add our kids' names as our family grows," he told you then, while you sobbed in his arms, snot everywhere since he had taken you so by surprise.

"Are you mad at me?", you felt two arms slip around your lower stomach, making you jump slightly. "Why would I be handsome?", you questioned, leaning more into your lover's embrace. "Just felt multiple strokes of discomfort coming from your side of your bond", you frowned at that. You were trying to keep your emotions somewhat hidden from him when he was so busy. The fewer distractions, the better.

Turning into Azriel's embrace, you wrapped your arms around his torso. Selfishly enjoying the moment of having him so close to you. "I'm fine, just crampy. I have a daunting feeling that my cycle is close," you huffed, and Azriel hummed in response. "Should I run you a bath?", but you just shook your head, knowing well that the longer you keep him here, the longer he will spend in the study. "I'll make some tea and go curl up in the bed under five blankets. You finish your work and come cuddle," you pouted your lips at him, earning a chuckle from the spymaster as he leaned in to kiss you twice. Even if it wasn't much. Just a few feathery kisses made your heart skip a beat. "I won't be long tonight, I promise," Azriel whispered to you before kissing you one last time.

You ended up falling asleep on your own last night, and it wasn't that big of a surprise when you woke up to a cold and empty bed as well. You quickly shut down your end of the bond before allowing a wave of sadness to wash over you as your mind wandered off. Wondering when was the last time you woke up with Azriel still in your bed? But as you turned to lie on your side, your stomach suddenly rumbled, and the next thing you know, you were up and rushing to the bathroom. Barely making it to the toilet as the food from last night made its way out. The sensation brought tears to your eyes as you tried to hold your hair out of the way.

Once the feeling subsided, you let your head slip down onto the hand that gripped the side of the toilet. Mother, the last thing you needed was a complicated cycle. Especially since you had no one to look after you and you were not going to tell Azriel about it. There was no way. So pretending everything was fine would be the next burden in your path.

You only managed to drag yourself out and get somewhat ready quite sometime later. You promised to help Nesta clean up alongside Feyre. She was now heavily pregnant. The babe was a surprise for both of the mates. Cassian had spent a whole day crying with excitement, and Nesta's fears of being a bad mother had died with every day that passed. At least it seemed like it. They seemed so happy, and it was a dream knowing that the inner circle was growing. Not to mention that Nyx was over the moon that he would get a friend soon. With a quick stop at the bakery, you make your way toward your friend's house. The cooler morning breeze soothed your nausea and made you feel way perkier than before. It was exactly what you needed—some time with the girls.

 Your mood almost immediately picked up as everyone laughed while folding the baby close together. "I'm telling you. I've been catching him doing breathing techniques and muttering all sorts of motivational stuff", Nesta laughed, hand on her tummy as you all gossiped about Cassian and the father mode he had entered. "Imagine hearing a - push Nes push at two in the morning", you three snickered, "That's pretty much how it goes", Nes wiped away the tears that came from laughing quickly. You were still grinning as you stood up with a basket in your hands when everything blurred. You swayed slightly to one side. Pressing your eyes shut tightly before blinking quickly a couple of times, hoping that the fog would clear up.

"Darling," Fayra said as she wrapped her arms around you, fanning you with her hand. "Reach out for Az," Nesta said worryingly, her hands holding onto you now. "No, no Azriel", you said sharply. Quickly giving both of the females a death-like look, "No one is telling him anything." Both of them looked into your pleading eyes with nothing but concern. It was unlike you to deny the presence of your mate. "But lo-", "I said no. It's nothing, just my cycle; I've been feeling weird." The two sisters shared a look. Not believing you but then again fea cycles were no joke. It took women out like the plague. With no strength to move. The list of symptoms was enormous. Yet something about this didn't seem right. Feyre handed you a cup of water. "Maybe you still seek out Madja on your way home?", the high lady asked gently. "That's unnecessary...", "Please, it would give me peace of mind," Nesta said, and you weren't about to put more stress on a pregnant woman. So you nodded your head at her, smiling ever so slightly so you could reassure her.

You softly knocked on the clinic's door, and Madja wiped it open almost in an instant. "It's nothing serious," you started, but she was already guiding you toward the bed. She asked you a question here and there, but for the most part, you could tell that she already knew everything you had told the girls. Meaning Feyre had already informed her of everything.

"Well, lay down, dear," the healer whispered, guiding her hands over your body. A fond smile spread over her face almost immediately. "This year is a blessed one. I'll need to go to the temple and give an offering to the mother," she muttered in excitement. You gave the healer a puzzled look, but her soft hand only moved to touch your cheek, saying softly, "You're with a child, girl." For a moment, you felt like you had slipped into a different universe. Hovering somewhere between the stars and the solid ground. Your head started to spin just like it did before, the sickening feeling once again increasing.

"It can't be, it's... I'm starting a cycle," she said, but Madja only shook her head, "It's early days, but you are carrying a strong babe, dear." Your eyes still searched, waiting for her to burst out laughing and tell you that she was just joking. "Why is the face like that? A child is a blessing, and Azriel, my boy... oh, he'll be so happy," you thickly swallowed at the sound of your mate's name. Oh, gods, how were you going to tell him, and when? Could you just tell him now? Should you? But this would be such a distraction. What if he thinks it's just an additional burden? You quickly pull yourself together as Madja continues to speak again, going through the appointments she would like to have and packing you all sorts of stuff to take home for nausea and aches.

You stop at the side of Sidra on your way back. Needing to clear out your fuzzy head. Put thousands in the right place. You hated the fact that this didn't at all feel as you had imagined. And Mother forbid, you were so happy. Not many get blessed with a baby. Couples grew mad while trying to conceive. But it felt like such bad timing. Azriel was not in the right mindset for this. Or maybe this was exactly what he needed? Someone or something to focus his attention on.

Your hand slips onto your still flat stomach, only slightly bloated, but that was just the impact of the food you had eaten today. "What will we do, my little joy? How do we tell dad?", you whispered into the light evening breeze. The conversation you had about kids playing on and on in your head. You knew that Azriel wanted them. He wanted a family of his own, and there had been times you caught him with his hand on your stomach after a particularly rowdy session of sex, "In case we created something. Need them to feel a warm fatherly touch from the start," he would say, leaning in closer to snuggle into you. He wanted this a lot. You even found sketches of the little crib he was making. Azriel hadn't told you about it, and you didn't ask, of course, but he wanted to have a child. He wanted it before his overworked brain turned on.

However, the moment you stepped foot into your shared home, you could practically feel the lingering essence of anger all over the place. Azriel's back was toward you. He was sitting on the sofa, one leg bouncing up and down, and he was so lost in his thoughts that he doesn't even hear you coming in. "Sweet, did something happen?", you asked carefully, Azriel's tired eyes shooting up to meet you as he let out a frustrated huff. "It's all shit," Azriel snarled, "They screwed up the entire mission, and I warned Rhys. I fucking warned him." As your mate stood up to pace the room, you flinched slightly at the sound of his loud voice. 

"Now I have to go there and try to fix this. I don't have time for that," the spymaster continued, visibly growing more and more frustrated. "Can you ask someone to go instead?", you tried to send loving strokes of support down the bond, but you were met with nothing in return, nor did it seem to do anything. "Who You fancy a trip?", Azriel barked back, and you quickly bit the inside of your cheek so your eyes wouldn't fill up with tears as you shook your head no. Well, here went your plan to tell him over a sweet dinner together that you wanted to cook. If you mentioned a child, this would be a tragedy, so you bit your tongue. Promising yourself to stay silent.

"How about I make you some food, and while you eat, I'll pack up your stuff and get everything ready?", you asked softly, trying to at least get his emotions somewhat in check. "It'll take at least something off your shoulders. Even if it's insignificant," you murmured at the end. And usually, Azriel is good at picking up on your emotions from the tone of your voice, but tonight it seemed like he either didn't hear it or didn't want to hear it.

Azriel stayed still for a moment, but then he softly nodded his head, "I'll do some work in the study in the meantime." You gave him a light smile. He did step closer to you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. And the fact that he had lingered there for a moment gave you hope that he might have sensed you, that he considered staying. But he moved past you, his hand lightly grazing your tummy, but he doesn't stop in his tracks. If only you knew, you thought to yourself, if only you knew that that's where your child is growing now. What a difference it would make if you knew...

He doesn't come to eat, and he once again doesn't eat what you bring to him. You pack his stuff up, and you can't help but feel like you are just packing his way out of your life. The shadow singer leaves in the middle of the night. You're not asleep yet, and you don't turn to face him. You hear the sound of his clothes ruffling as he gets dressed. You don't even know how long he will be away or where he is going. Closing your eyes just as he walks to your side, leaning in to press a couple of kisses to your forehead. And with that, he's gone. 

You wait a moment longer until you're fully sure that he was not coming back before you let your eyes fill up with tears. A painful sob slipped past your lips as you clench your finger around the sheets. Cry your heart out into the darkness of the night.

At first, you felt utterly alone. Having to run to the bathroom every morning and well into the day as you gagged with your face hovering over the toilet. Needing to drag yourself to make food. You didn't care that much for yourself, and if not for the baby, you would have probably just spent your days in bed without moving. But then it struck you. You weren't alone. You were never alone. You always had your baby with you. With every step you took, a little joy was always there. Warming your weeping heart. Azriel reached out through the bond while he was away. And because you didn't want him to go flying home, you listened to him speak. Letting his voice slip into nothingness as the words went through you and out. You ignored everyone in your family. Saying that you had caught something and didn't want to get any of the kids sick. So the best decision was to stay away.

You were sitting with a big blanket over your body, eyes gazing at the fire when the front door suddenly opened. You had felt this was going to happen considering that for the past couple of days, you had completely shut off the bond. "Take that off," Azriel said, his voice shaking as he stepped through the living room, making his way to you. Looking like nothing but a frightened animal in the woods.

"Azriel," you spoke weakly, your hallow eyes turning his way, and you just hoped that he would drop it. "Take it off," he yanked at the blanket's side, reaching for your arms to get you to stand. So you did, letting the material crumble to the floor. The spymaster's mouth gaped at the sight of you. At the sight of your bump, which had become more visible. Even if it wasn't all that big yet. "You're..." the male trailed off. Chest falling and rising rapidly. "I am, yes. I am pregnant," you said coldly, as you walked past him and into the kitchen. Azriel just shook his head, turning your way, "Why did you... when did you find out?" His steps followed right behind you. You debate over your answer. The pain stings your chest.

"Before you left", "And said nothing?", his voice grew louder, and you slammed your cup down on the counter. "Don't you dare! You were boiling with rage that night," you said, firmly pointing your finger at him. "That's not a good enough excuse," he muttered under his breath, and your blood filled with so much rage. So much anger was pushed away. "You are unbelievable... I've been neglected by you for weeks like some dirty foot rag. You enjoyed just wiping your shit at me, didn't you?", you shouted at him now. You didn't seem to mind that you'd never done that before.

"What the fuck are you on about?", Azriel barked back, leaning closer to you. "You and your work. Are you sure you shouldn't be mated to your papers?", you spat his way, moving to push past him, but Azriel gripped your hand firmly, making you stop in your tracks. "Don't start with this shit again", "I will start because ahh...", you leaned forward, hand coming to your bump as the pain shoots through you. Azriel's grip on your hand loosens as he moved to wrap his arm over you, but you coldly push it away. Gritting your teeth. Until another pain shoots through you, a much louder cry slipping past your lips, and you have no other option but to let your mate lift you as he carried you to the sofa.

"Love, talk to me, what is it?", his worried eyes sought you out. "It hurts," and you try to take deep breaths in and calm your heart down. Fighting like this. All of these emotions at once were not what your body needed. Not what you needed. You were so tired. You didn't have it in you to deal with this. And it's not even a couple of minutes later that the door opens and Madja rushes in accompanied by Rhys.

Azriel is being pushed out of the room. Your teary eyes, hands gripping the bump, a bump that he hasn't even touched yet, the last thing he sees before the doors are closed right in front of him. A small bump that carries his child. And it all comes crashing down. It's him. It's him. He's the problem. He's the one who caused this. The darkest scenarios cloud his mind, and he's about to march back in, but Rhys is in his way instantly.

"Move, Rhys, move!", the spymaster wept as he tried to reach for the door handle. "Azriel, it's not the right time", "Rhysand, don't test me; there's my mate and my child there. I need to know if they are okay," Azriel roared, trying to somehow find a way to feel you through the bond, but there was nothing but coldness there. "Don't cause a scene. Let her be checked and calm down," the high lord tried to say calmly, but anxiousness was inevitable on his face. "If she.. if I", the images of his father fill Azriel's mind. His mother being pushed around. Whimpering as his father yelled at her. Her cries were all he could hear at night, and she was nothing but lonely and scared. Alone. You've been alone through all of this. You've made up your mind to keep it from him. To keep his baby away from him. Because he wasn't worthy. He was nothing better than a piece of trash. He wasn't any better than his father. Worse, perhaps.

The time seemed to slow down; it feels like years as Azriel stands there. Hoping that he had at least done something good in his five hundred years of existence that would be enough to buy the gift of keeping you both safe. When Madja walks out the door, Azriel practically falls to his knees. "She's okay; both of them are. I've got her to sleep," her words set the tears flowing down Azriel's cheeks, "She's distressed and hasn't been drinking or eating enough."

He walked inside as quietly as he could. The sight of you curled up on the bed both warmed and broke the spymaster's heart. The male debated whether he should just leave you here or carry you up to your bed. Carefully, Azriel ran his hand over your head before scooping you up in his arms. The sofa, no matter how comfortable it was, would most likely leave your back sore, and the shadow singer had a feeling you already had those pains as it was. Once you were tucked in between your sheets and Azriel had sat and watched you for an hour, he went back downstairs. Cleaning up the place as he went along, washing up the dishes, and sorting out the trash. Started making some soup as well. All the little things. Small things he realized he hadn't done in what seemed like an eternity.

You woke up sometime later. Feeling much more refreshed yet slightly dissociated. The window was narrowly open, letting just the right amount of fresh air flow into the room. The pitcher with water was nestled against the side of your nightstand. You reached for the glass, only now realizing just how thirsty you were. Taking a couple of dried fruits and nuts from the bowl as you swing your legs over the edge. The heavy feeling in your chest still lingered, yet you threw on one of Azriel's sweaters before you went downstairs. His scent instantly relieves some of the tension in your body. Azriel was lost in his head again. Stirring whatever he was cooking in that pot so viscously that you almost felt sorry for both the pot and the spoon.

"That smells nice," to the sound of your voice Azriel practically threw the spoon as he rushed to you and asked, "What are you doing up? You need to be laying in bed", his arms were hooked under your legs in an instant as he carried you back to the sofa. "Azriel, I can walk", "Madja said you need to take it easy for a couple of days. Are you in pain now? Do you need anything? Are you craving something? Because I can...", your head was starting to spin again from the number of questions he managed to cramp in the space of one breath. Placing your palm on his, you squeezed it gently.

"Calm down," you mumbled, watching as your mate practically started hyperventilating right beside you. "I don't deserve you. You shouldn't be speaking to me now. You shouldn't be speaking to me ever again," he blurted out, his eyes glossing over with tears. "Love," you tried to interfere, but Azriel only shook his head. "I've failed you. I'm no better than my father. You deserve so much more. I've failed my kid, and the baby isn't even born yet. You shouldn't even tell them that I'm their father", you crooked your head to the side, watching Azriel self-sabotaging himself once again. "You're talking nonsense now. They will know that you are the father, and you will be here by their side as they grow up," you said firmly, sitting up so you could reach for Azrie's face. Gently turning it towards you so his eyes would be on you as you spoke.

"Am I upset with you? Very much so. But I will always choose you. It will always be you, Azriel. I just can't be... I won't be... We won't be a second option," moving closer, Azriel rested his forehead on yours. "You were never a second option. I just... I get so scared sometimes. Your love, it overwhelms me," the spymaster said, his brows furrowed. "It's been years, and I still tell myself that the cauldron made a mistake. I'm not good enough for you; we are not equal. You are so much more than me", "Azriel, you get in your ways with thoughts like that", you mutter, pulling away slightly, so you could see his face better. "You need to realize that you are not the same little boy locked up in the basement. You made it out of there. So live, my love. Don't rob yourself of the happiness you deserve", Azriel's bottom lip quivered before tears started rolling down his cheeks once again. You give him a sad look before pulling him closer to yourself, "Let it all out, my love. You've pushed yourself too much," you said, running your fingers through his already messy hair as you tried to soothe the cries that escaped his lips.

"Give me your hand", you nudged his arms slightly, taking it into your much smaller one. Guiding it under your sweater, Azriel's sweater, "Calm your breathing and listen to this," you said calmly, keeping your hand on top of his. Even the fact that his palm got to rest on the swell of your stomach made him let out yet another cry. But his ears picked up on something else. A tiny little heartbeat. Tiny but so strong. As if it was screaming from the inside of your tummy at it's parents about just how much it wanted to be there and grow. Azriel pulled back to look at you, eyes wide now that he could feel the life growing inside you. "Our baby...", the spymaster mumbled, and you let a tear slide down your cheek, "Yes, our little joy", "I love you", he muttered, leaning in to pack your lips softly before he moved down, lifting the knitted fabric. "And I love you," Azriel said, running his hand over your bump carefully before pressing a kiss on your skin. "I love you. I love you. I love you," he repeated over and over. You watched your mate with a fond smile, finally feeling somewhat content. Finally feeling the other side of the bond flourishing, no longer cold and unwelcoming.