#she just needs some emotional regulation and she's good to go

[immortalfornow]

toxic trait is that i think i could fix clementine midnight burger

[brown-little-robin]

I think I'm in the "conscious incompetence" stage of being a social animal in the real world and it sucks so majorly. bro what do you do after you realize you're bad at socializing and then in-person interaction gets harder because you know you're failing at it now.

[fancyfeathers]

Part two to this post

Barry Allen would baby trap his darling at some point, it’s when he would not if he would. He also does not exactly view it as baby trapping, it is just the next step in life, you get saved by the Flash engaged, you get kidnapped married, so naturally kids would come next in the line. He know, he know, kids are a really big step, but they have time. Then they have to figure out what to do if the kids have their father’s speed, there is no way his darling can raise the little ones all on her own as a stay at home mom, they’ll have to figure a dynamic that keeps him home more often so he can teach the kids while she is getting dinner ready-

Meanwhile while telling his darling about his their future plans while eating dinner with her and she is just sitting there horrified, he had their whole life planned like they had been together for years.

“Hey, hey, hey, baby, don’t cry. I know this is scary, but we’ll figure it out together.”

The moment he finds out she is pregnant, he hits the ground running, pun not intended, on the preparations. Then literally a minute later after getting the news he has the crib built and is just all over his darling, names for a girl, names for a boy, what if they have twins?

When the baby is born, he does not want to put them down, Barry always needs to holding his baby. Hey, kangaroo care does improve brain and motor development, lowers risk of infection, regulates temperature, and improves weight gain.

Oliver Queen does not really try to get his darling pregnant, but it is not something he bothers to prevent either. It is a thing that naturally happens in time so if they are meant to have kids then so be it, if they aren’t then that is fine to. Now unlike some of the Justice League members, Oliver is more in tune to his darling’s emotions and chances are when she gets that positive pregnancy test that she will not exactly be happy, probably be crying. Oliver will not say anything and he will just sit with her on the bathroom tile and hold her while she cries.

Now just because he understands how his darling feels does not mean she doesn’t have to carry the baby, no she still has to, after all it’s their future child, it means that Oliver will be far more lax with things. Oliver doesn’t really have a lot of rule, and the few he does have are to protect his darling from the sort of threats that may come at her because he is Green Arrow, he is by far one of the least up tight members of the Justice League with their darling. She can go out with him if she wants to rather than being stuck home all day long, she can stay up later, she can even go with him to Justice League meetings because the social interaction would be good for her especially since at least one of the Green Lanterns’ darlings is around the Watchtower while their partner is off planet, and if Clark’s darling is around it is good for them to talk because lord knows how many babies she has had so there is bound to be good advice from her.

Also I think that Oliver would want to do an at home birth, it is free from all the chaos of a hospital because it will attract attention if he is there suddenly with a wife no one has ever seen, plus his money will cover everything, even hiring private doctors for the baby’s vaccinations and such post delivery, and then not to mention to comfort of being able to relax in his own home with his darling and their little baby after the delivery, holding them both and just being in the moment without the stress of anything and not having to be away from either of them.

Also I feel like Oliver would be such a girl dad, like sure he would be happy if it was a boy, but if it’s a girl then that’s his little princess.

Look with Bruce Wayne there is only one correct answer here, absolutely he would. He would not even need to get his darling pregnant to do it, he already has too many children to count. But sometimes empty nest syndrome hits rather hard especially when Dick moves out to Blüdhaven and then the grief when Jason died, then as the other kid come and go they get older and grow more distant, then only one of them is biological and Bruce never got the chance to see Damian as a baby because his son was being raised by the League of Assassins and Bruce had no idea he even existed, so maybe having a child would not be such a bad idea after all.

He would not be surprised or acted surprised when his darling tells him she is pregnant, he planned everything down to the little details, tracking periods, morning sickness, everything. He is happy, but he is calm, telling her that they can handle this. The big thing is telling the rest of his children, who are most likely yanderes as well, that she is pregnant, it’s difficult enough to get them all in the same room at the same time and it is even harder to get them all to calm down when they tell them the news. Dick and Stephanie are by far the most excited at the news, Dick is so excited that he picks her up in a hug and spins her around, but meanwhile Cassandra is just staring at her, just with a look she knows that Bruce’s darling is not happy with this but she can’t exactly say that out loud in a room full of people who are more happy about her baby than she is.

Setting up the nursery is even a family affair, Dick and Tim are painting the walls while Bruce figures out how to build the crib, and meanwhile she is just sitting in an armchair with a cup of caffeine free tea from Alfred with Stephanie and Duke suggesting names while she drinks. Meanwhile Jason takes the initiative to begin to baby proofing the manor because they cannot expect to have gear outside the Batcave with a baby in the house, not ever child in this family is going to be a vigilante.

Then when the baby is born, Bruce makes it a point to shut down any jokes about the baby becoming a Robin, they are not going to be trained from birth like Damian was and they were not taken in by Bruce like the others were. Though Dick and Barbara definitely get the baby a Robin onesie as a gag gift.

But one good thing about having Bruce’s child, when the baby wakes up in the night, either Alfred, Bruce, or one of the kids get there before she does. Now Bruce or the kids may still be in full costume and have just run upstairs from the cave to help after getting back from patrol, but it’s fine.

[charliemwrites]

The long-awaited part 2 for ragdoll!reader.

I’ll be honest, I never intended for there to be another part, so I hope this is alright! I might add more in the future if the worms demand it, but for now let’s consider this the last part. Sorry!

If Price had any optimism that Ragdoll’s reaction to Konig was just a fluke - or perhaps some sort of initial, fleeting interest - he’s quickly proven wrong.

She’s utterly infatuated with him.

Constantly pressing herself close, rubbing her cheek against him and his clothes, bumping her head against his. She chirps and chitters and purrs at him, pupils blown out. Never seems bothered that he has trouble verbally responding; or seems to, though Johnny mentions they might be communicating at a frequency only cat-hybrids can hear.

Price has the briefest notion of keeping them separated. After all, Konig is a big combat placement that doesn’t seem much indulgent of his non-violent instincts. More human than cat - a complete opposite to their sweet companion kitty. It seems inevitable that something goes wrong and someone - likely the 141’s precious girl - gets injured. So naturally they try to keep the hybrids apart.

Try to coordinate schedules to keep her and Konig from passing each other, ending up in the same rooms or at the mess hall together.

It’s futile.

For one, she may be the sweetest little thing around, but she’s still a cat (or cat-hybrid anyway). There’s really no stopping her from going somewhere, especially on a base she’s had free run of for over a year already. Closed doors are blasphemy, and locks are a personal attack against her.

For two, her only job is to be a companion. She is not beholden to most military protocols like rank, SOPs, schedules, or duty. Meaning that, while she usually keeps to the 141’s routines out of desire to be with them, there’s nothing forcing her to follow along. Even as an emotional support placement, she isn’t required to be around them at any time; she always just wants to be. It’s why she’s so good at it.

And finally, mostly importantly here, there’s really just no telling her “no.”

Not with those big eyes that get so watery so fast. That sad curve to her mouth. The fucking mournful cries when she’s been denied and she doesn’t understand why - nor does anyone really have a good reason.

(“He’s twice your size” is apparently not a good reason. Neither is “he could crush your skull in one hand.”)

Worse still, it’s not even that she’s misbehaving as a reason to keep them separated.

While she does present more cat than human in a lot of ways, she understands English perfectly. She can read and even write if needed. Vocalizing human speech is beyond rare, but she has once or twice.

So she knows the hard and fast rules. Understands that she can’t interrupt drills or exercises. That there are regulations for the range should she ever venture out there. That she has to be quiet during briefings. And she does all of this - just while also being as close to Konig as possible.

She sits in the grass or on a perch watching the boys run and call to each other. And as soon as they’re done, she��s up and flitting to his side, head tilting this way and that. She shifts into her full-cat form during briefing to sit on his lap. Even follows him out to the range, lying in the grass next to him with tail swishing and headphones on, while he fires the rifle.

Never mind any free time.

Members of both their teams keep finding them cuddled up together all over the place. In the rec room on a couch, in patches of sun beneath windows, in the grass by the running tracks, even in Konig’s room on base. Most often with Ragdoll lying on him, plumed tail curled around his arm or leg while he rubs her back or ears.

Sometimes they hear him talking to her, low and quiet. She meows back on occasion, but he doesn’t seem to mind the lack of verbal response while he rambles.

And the first time anyone sees them wrestle is nerve-wracking. They hardly make a sound the entire time, rolling around on the floor in a tangle of limbs and fluffy tails. Konig always lets her win - even laughs when she gets her sharp little teeth in his arm. (It’s the first anyone on his team has heard him laugh like that and they’re a bit startled.) The entire 141 pretends not to be on high alert - except Johnny, who watches with ears perked, eyes darting between the two cats.

Price doesn’t know what to make of it. Of course he’s not upset that she’s connected with another hybrid. Johnny is usually the only one on base, and while they’re close, Price knows it probably isn’t the same as her own species.

That she’s so… preoccupied with Konig is, well.

“Is she… ya know…?” Gaz asks at one point.

When Price arches an eyebrow, he makes a vague, nonsensical gesture.

“In heat,” Gaz mumbles awkwardly.

“Shouldn’t be,” Price answers. “She has an implant.”

A hormone implant keeps a hybrid from going into mating cycles or getting pregnant - but it doesn’t stop them from bonding.

Kate is the one to bring up the possibility after speaking to her sister in law. Ragdoll spent time around other cat-hybrids before she was placed with the 141, but never reacted to them like she does to Konig.

It’s confirmed when TF-141 and the KorTac squad deploy for their mission. Ragdoll is near inconsolable. Not actively crying (most of the time) but lethargic and sad, with low appetite and lots of big, long sighs. Her ears never perk more than half-mast for the month they’re gone. Even taking her off-base back to Kate’s sister-in-law for a little while doesn’t seem to help.

The day they come back, she’s the most lively anyone’s seen in a month. Bounces between her four team members incessantly, checking that they’re okay, making little noises in the back of her throat. They happily drop kisses on her head, let her nuzzle up beneath their chins, hug her close. Rub at her ears and squish up her cheeks. Price even picks her up, rubbing his bristly cheek against her temple.

Then Konig steps out.

She wiggles, making a nervous, upset noise. Price sets her down and she bolts into Konig’s arms, crying loudly and pawing at his hood. And to everyone’s shock, he lifts it enough for her to wriggle under with him.

If there was any question that he felt the same way - it’s answered.

[timkontheunsure]

Some of the reasons I think Stolas is on the spectrum

(finally getting around to popping this on up too).

He has special interests & misses social cues while being happy in them.

It not really normal to be happy reading legal documents when someone's life is on the line. But Stolas is just vibing that he gets to help with his love of words. Yay him!

Stims

He stims when both happy & sad to help regulate his emotions.

His happy stims are:

*clapping when he gets to take Via to the circus, because he thinks they can enjoy it together.

He also does this with contract reading.

*He hopps up and down when his dad gives him a new books. Also when getting ready for his date with Blitz. He's just so happy he needs to hop.

His sad stims:

*are bang his head again and again about the engagement.

*He self sooves with chest strokes when Blitz says his outfit is too much.

*He hand rubs and wringing his hat when worrying about Via in LA.

Special interests

The there's that Stolas info dumps on the playdate with Blitz all about his books and about plants.

Stolas also feels he has to explain why Blitz horse joke was soo funny. And why's it so funny?

Because it's accurate. I love his little cutie.

But he's also kept up his love of plants as a major hobby now he's an adult. When most people tend to swap interests as they age.

Side bar

His comfy resting hand position is t rex hands. This tends to be an autistic thing. Also works well as an owl.

Sensory issues

Stolas appears to also have some sensory issues too. When his a child he appears to be struggling when Mr Butler touches his hair out of nowhere.

But he's fine with Blitz doing it when they're kissing. This shows a lot of trust between them.

I think it's likely sensory issues are the reason why he swaps into his comfy, very old robe, as often as he can too.

Specific communication issues

While Stolas is very good at some communication styles, he's pretty bad at others.

When the audience think it's another joke about wanting to keep a puppy; he immediately knows Blitz's is panicking the studio. And tries to get to him.

However he doesn't get that his dirty talk is way OTT, because he's mostly likely coping it from the erotica. Not lived experience.

Speaking of erotica.

There's obviously a rule that reading is allowed at the diner table. But Stolas doesn't get This book isn't appropriate to read there.

Another rule he appears to follow more rigidly than most probably would; is that when you get an appointment you wait till you're seen.

Ozzie's ment to met Stolas at noon, but doesn't make it till 4 pm because of problems with work.

Stolas is only a couple of days out of the hospital and is probably feeling horrible.

But he sticks around a minimum of 4 hours to be seen, because he feels he has to.

(I'm assuming he also got taught you turn up earlier rule, but this just a guess).

Stolas genuinely wants to do something Via will enjoy, and he's fine taking Via to stylish occult when she asks.

But didn't get it till she's crying and sad that she wasn't enjoying Loo Loo Land.

"I take it you are.. not having fun." She needs to spell it out. Sarcasm isn't easy for him to interrupt.

His was obviously thought taking his daughter and his lover out to a theme park would be a good way to introduce them.

It's the sort of plot that only works on a novellas. And that's probably when he got it from. (Probably worked great for Gabrielle and Alejandro).

These are examples of him Masking, and not understanding why it didn't work.

Stella's being dangerous to be around = take Via out somewhere for her to have fun to blow off steam.

Wanting your lover and daughter to like eachother = ask IMP to tag along as the completely unnecessary bodyguards.

He doesn't really get that flirty with his affair partner, in front of his kid while going through a divorce isn't a good idea...

He also struggles to understand when his flirting comes off as condescending too. With "ittybity imps like you" or calling him Blitzy in public. He's most likely him coping language from other goeita.

But Stolas is very good at knowing when knowing when Blitz is fine being picked up, when to reassure him with face stokes, or how to calm Blitz down from a panic attack in just a few seconds.

So it's not that he's just never learnt these skills. It's just that some communication skills are harder for him than others.

But if you disagree that fine. 🙂 I just wanted to put down some of my thoughts why I think he could be.

[lizzieisright]

Tranquility

dom!reader x sub!Abby

Summary: You want to help Abby relax and show her she doesn't have to control everything, sometimes she just can let go.

Tags: dom!reader, fingering, praise, consent checks, Abby doesn't really notice she is subbing, very light and vanilla, Sylvia Plath's quotes.

wc: 3.7k

MINORS DON'T INTERACT I'll hunt you for sport 

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

You don't jump into power dynamics right away when you get together: Abby doesn't even think about it too much - she just assumes since between the two of you she is the killing machine, big strong scary Abby Anderson, she'll be in charge like she is everywhere else. And you don't seem to mind, even though you had the sex talk way prior to having actual sex (I can't bottom every time if it's something you want, you said to her, and Abby agreed: she liked topping but she could bottom just fine). 

So the thought of power dynamics doesn't come to Abby at all, until one day. 

You are too good at reading Abby's mood - for some reason you can notice even the small shift in her. It's a superpower that creeps Abby out sometimes, how you can recognise her feelings and act accordingly. You don't make a scene out of it, you don't take care of her like she is a child who can't regulate her emotions, but you're there through it all. You're not scared of her anger or her tears, always calm, and for the first time in years Abby feels like she can rely on someone. Can trust someone fully. 

And today Abby is on edge. She is tired, angry and frustrated - the plan for the next supply run isn't safe in her opinion. Abby likes her plans to be foolproof, "if you think they're smart enough think again and dumb it down" type of fool-proof. Everyone said Abby was being ridiculous about it, and maybe she was, but it doesn't make her feel any better. 

And you obviously notice it. You watch her from the couch as Abby walks around packing, huffing every two seconds in anger. 

"I saw that plan, Abby, it's good. Everything will be fine. Manageable if something goes wrong."

"Jamie is on the team, and this idiot will get us in trouble." Abby growls. "And then someone will have to clean up his mess and someone will get hurt and it will slow us down-"

"Okay. Okay, Abs, stop." You put your book away. "Come here, you need to relax." You pat your lap and Abby stares at you before laughing.

"What, you want me to sit in your lap?" Abby asks sceptically. 

"Yeah." You pat your lap again. Abby is unsure and she feels ridiculous: she is not a lap dog, she is a fucking German shepherd.

"I'm too big to sit in your lap, baby." 

"Do I look like I give a fuck?" You deadpan. "Big girls need to sit on their lover's lap too. Come here."

Abby blinks. She likes that she is big and tall - it makes her feel powerful, but it comes with a cost. She doesn't get to feel small. And you asking her to sit on your lap opens something so desperate in her she gets scared. Abby knows she won't feel small, but she wants to try anyway. Abby tentatively makes her way to you, still unsure how it will work, but you tug her lightly and she straddles you. Abby feels like she is a giant on top of you, and she doesn't really remember where to put her hands. She settles on your shoulders.

"This is awkward." Abby assesses, frowning. 

"It's not. Sit, Abby, I can feel that you're hovering. I'm not going to break, I'm not made of dust." You push at her thighs so she can spread them and finally sit. You seem pretty happy with this, hugging her by her waist and pressing her closer to you. Abby is getting used to this, but it still seems ridiculous to her. She is used to tugging you to sit on her lap, not the other way around. 

"Am I too heavy?"

"I like feeling your weight on me. Makes it feel real." You grin and stroke her back. "Really, relax. I can read to you if you want."

Abby doesn't really know what to do. She has no arguments against you, and your lap is very comfortable. As well as being this close to you, feeling your body, your breathing, your warmth. 

"Yeah, okay. We can do that."

Abby does what you usually do when she reads: she puts her head on your shoulder and lets you snake your arms around her. 

"Good." You comment and hold the book with one hand while you stroke Abby's back with the other one. 

You are warm and your smell is comforting, so Abby puts her nose into the crook of your neck and breathes in.

"Yeah. Breathe. Deep big breaths." You say offhandedly as you look through the pages. It's weird. Abby feels safe and taken care of and it feels good, but it is too unfamiliar to be comfortable with it. 

"Would it be too childish of me to say: I want? But I do want: theater, light, color, paintings, wine and wonder. Yet not all these can do more than try to lure the soul from its den where it sulks in busy heaps of filth and obstinate clods of bloody pulp. I must find a core of fruitful seeds in me. I must stop identifying with the seasons, because this English winter will be the death of me-" You've read out loud and Abby suddenly resonates with the first line. Would it be too childish of her to say: she wants your care? 

"What is this?"

"Sylvia Plath's diaries."

"She sounds dramatic." Abby murmurs into your neck while you are caressing her back. Fuck it feels so good. She is so safe. 

"Bitch is all over the place sometimes. But she is a poet."

You kiss Abby's head and she leans into your touch, surprising herself. She isn't usually… needy, but right now something is different. The sudden safety of your arms around her, your calm voice and familiar smell makes Abby feel dangerously vulnerable. 

"You feel pretty relaxed." You notice as you now stroking her head, putting all annoying baby hairs behind her ear. 

"Yeah. It's so weird though."

You chuckle.

"In what way?"

"Usually it's you who sits in my lap. But this is good. Just weird."

"I think the word you're looking for is unfamiliar."

"Are you a thesaurus?" 

You laugh and kiss her forehead. Abby nuzzles her nose into your neck and your breath hitches. 

You know Abby doesn't mean to get you horny with her breathing, but you are getting horny. 

"Come here." You tell her and Abby lifts her head just enough for you to kiss her. She is warm and welcoming, doesn't rush anywhere and you are not rushing either, just enjoying the kiss. Abby relaxes into you and it surprises both of you - she isn't a person who gives up control easily. Hell, the whole thing started because Abby couldn't deal with people not doing everything like she told them to. But you feel how she puts more weight on you and you buck your hips into her. 

"Okay yeah. Still weird, but good." Abby pants into your mouth. You dig your fingers into her ass and press her into your crotch. "Oh fuck."

"Wanna make you cum." You say, panting yourself as arousal takes the hold of you. "What do you think?"

Abby looks at you with a lifted brow. 

"You think I'm going to say no?"

"Well." You kiss her jaw. "I don't plan on letting you do anything at all, so, maybe take a moment to think about it."

Abby stares at you as your words settle in. She will what, just lie there and do nothing? It sounds wrong, it sounds like she is going to be out of control, but also…

Also it sounds like the sweetest sin she could commit. 

"If you're not sure, we can stop. Like, fully. Or at any point you want to." You stroke her cheeks with your thumbs as you watch Abby. You know she is apprehensive about this idea, but you want her to relax fully and forget about everything. And you know you can give it to her if she just says yes. 

"Yeah. Yeah, okay. We can do that." Abby smiles bashfully and you kiss her, so fucking grateful for how brave she is. 

It's one thing to stare death in her face and win, and the other thing to stare in your lover's face and decide to trust them completely. And any other day Abby would have chosen death, but with you the danger can't get safer than this. 

So Abby lets herself relax into you again and just enjoy your touch. 

"Thanks." 

Abby chuckles, but it turns into a gasp as you move your lips down her neck while your hands are tugging on her shirt. Abby helps you take the shirt and the bra off, and you just caress her sides, looking over her. 

Abby knows you like how she looks, but having your attention like this makes her nervous. Your eyes are so dark with hunger Abby wants to look away but she doesn't, as sudden greed for your love washes over her. You look at her like you want to devour her. 

"Pretty." You sigh as you smile. "You're so pretty, Abs."

"I don't think pretty is the right word."

"Beautiful?"

Abby huffs but can't help her smile.

"Gorgeous?"

"Stop it." Abby says, playfully stern. "You're so sappy, god."

You grin and kiss her again, shutting her up - if you say she is pretty, she is, and whatever Abby thinks of herself is totally irrelevant. Your lips make a trail from her neck to her shoulder and you gently kiss her freckles, listening to Abby's breathing closely: it gets heavier as you move your kisses down, and these small sighs are the greatest encouragement you can get. 

You slowly move one of your hands up and cup Abby's tit, kneading her doughy flesh as she gasps. 

"Feels nice?"

"Yeah." Abby murmurs and runs her hand over your hair. It's still hard to let go so she tries to occupy herself in some way. She gently massages your neck and you kiss her just above her nipple. "Yeah, this is nice."

"Good. Let's take your pants off, I need them out of the way."

Your intonation makes Abby throb in her pants - it sounds so commanding and for once in her life she doesn't want to fight it, no, she wants to obey - it's easy with you. Safe. 

Abby stands from your lap and you help her take her pants and underwear off, making a small pile on the floor. Abby reaches to tug your shirt off, but you gently push her hands away. 

"Relax, baby. Don't worry about anything, okay?" You tug her back into your lap and sigh so happily when you touch her bare skin. "Your job right now is just to be pretty. Can you do that?"

Abby is conflicted: you don't sound patronising, but it should sound patronising, shouldn't it? She stops for a second to understand her reaction and you just watch her. You know Abby needs some time to process what is happening, so you continue caressing her back and her pretty ass that makes you drool while Abby figures out how she feels about your new behaviour. 

"Well I can try." Abby shrugs and you smile. 

"Thanks. I wanna call you princess, you know?" You kiss her neck and leave a hickey on her collarbone. 

"Call me what?" Abby laughs in the middle of her gasp at how ridiculous it sounds, but it's not a bad laugh. It's just embarrassing. "I'm no princess, (y/n)."

"Would you actually mind if I called you that?" You kiss her breastbone and Abby watches you. 

"Don't think so." Abby pants and looks at you impatiently as you finally move your lips to her tits. 

"Princess." You murmur and look into her eyes while her cheeks become bright red. "My pretty princess." You suck on her nipple gently and Abby gasps, squeezing your shoulders. The pet name turns her on - a lot of things turn her on right now even though they're weird and embarrassing.

You play with her other nipple and Abby presses closer to you, so you let your restraints go and use all your strength to move her closer to the point where her back is arched. Abby sighs, surprised - obviously Abby knows you are strong (not as strong as her, but strong nonetheless), but she never actually experienced it. Maybe you can make her feel small. Maybe you can make her feel like no one else could before. 

You slowly move your hands up Abby’s muscular thighs, caressing every line with your fingertips - Abby is too hot for her own good, and the hungry monster that lives inside you claws at your chest, desperate to have its way with Abby and make her forget her fucking name, but you’re patient. You would never push Abby into something she isn’t ready for, especially in sex, but you want to show her an alternative. Show that she can let herself forget her fucking name and it will be safe. Because god knows Abby needs it.

Abby watches your hands in anticipation and you smirk at her when you place your hands on conjunctions of her hips, caressing her hip bones with your thumbs. Abby is soft here, but her V-line makes her look sharp and hard, and it gets to your head. 

“I fucking love how strong you are, you have no idea.”

“I think I have a pretty good idea.” Abby chuckles, but she is impatient, so she grabs your hand and moves it down to her pussy. 

“Hey, don’t spoil the fun.” You scold her playfully and bring your hand back. “I’m not going to keep you waiting, princess. Relax.”

Abby feels how her face burns when you call her princess again, but it gets her wet, so impossibly wet there's probably a dark spot on your pants under her. Abby grinds her hips down, searching for some friction, and you push your hips up to let her have it. Abby shudders as her clit grinds down on your pelvis and her hands clutch your shoulders almost painfully as she tries to set a pace of her hips. 

"This is so hot, Abs. Fuck." You tell her as you watch her get off just grinding on you. You grab her ass and help her grind harder and Abby whimpers quietly, and your brain barely holds back your filthy mouth. You want to tell Abby how good she is, how she is doing such a good job getting herself off, but you hold it back for now. 

The friction is not enough and you know it, so you lock her in place with one arm around her waist, praying she'd listen to you, and snake your other hand between your bodies. 

Abby is so fucking wet your eyes roll back into your scull from how hard it turns you on. 

"You're so wet, princess." You murmur into her ear and Abby whimpers again. "You okay?"

Abby just nods and it clicks. Abby is getting overwhelmed, but she clings to you so you figure out it's a good overwhelmed. 

"Do you like it when I call you princess?" You ask mostly to make sure, but it sounds so seductive to Abby, a little mean maybe but in a good way. 

"It's embarrassing." Abby admits and squirms around when you cup her pussy. Finally. 

"Do you want me to stop?" You ask gently and look in her eyes, serious. Abby looks back, but her eyes are glazed over, she is too horny to care about being embarrassed by this point. 

"No. Don't stop." Abby grinds against your hand and you press her closer to make her stop. 

"You wanna cum already?"

"You keep fucking teasing me." Abby says, annoyed.

"I'm taking my time." You kiss her cheek and part her folds carefully, circling her clit with two fingers and Abby buries her head into your neck, moaning. You stroke her back to soothe her, but your fingers only get faster, the pressure is featherlight and it drives Abby crazy because it will get her to cum way too fast, and you know it. 

"Yeah, that's right, princess. Relax and enjoy, yeah?" You can't stop talking now, desperate to praise Abby and make her feel safe in your arms. "Does it feel good?"

"I- I can't fucking-" Abby moans between her words, clinging to you harder as your fingers get her closer to her release. "Icantfuckingthink" Abby says in one breath and you barely make sense of it.

"Oh princess, don't. Don't think, okay? Be good for me." You pay closer attention to her reaction, not sure if Abby would like it, but she is too out of it now. She whines - fucking hell Abby whines - and presses closer to you.

"Yeah, I'll take care of you, I'll make you feel good." You promise her and slide your fingers down, gently pressing at her hole. Abby arches into your fingers, trying to get them inside, and your heart melts. "You're so cute, fuck. You want my fingers?" 

Abby growls at you, refusing to talk, and you chuckle. 

"Just nod for me, okay? Or shake your head."

Abby takes a second to process your words and then she nods. 

"Good girl." 

That makes Abby open her eyes in shock and her walls clench around nothing to push her slick into your hand, and you can tell she liked it. 

"Can I call you that, princess?" You slowly push your fingers inside and just move them to feel how soft and hot Abby is. She suddenly grinds down on your hand and you kiss her shoulder. "Nod or shake." You remind her. 

Abby nods, her embarrassment totally forgotten by this point: she feels small, safe and taken care of, and the way you talk to her only makes it better. Your stupid spidey senses let you know when to check in with her and Abby never knew it could be this way - that giving consent can turn her on so much because you ask for it like you're dirty talking to her. 

And you are so close and you hold her so tightly Abby feels grounded even though she is so overwhelmed she can't think anymore. She just feels, her world only exists in the tactile plane now, and your voice carries her away. 

"Yeah, don't think, princess, I want your head empty and your pretty cunt stuffed with my fingers." You murmur into Abby's ear and she buries her face in your neck deeper as you curl your fingers inside her. Abby moans quietly and you feel how you lose any self-control you had before. 

You pick up the pace, catching the balance between overwhelmingly fast and not fast enough just so you won't disturb Abby's delicate headspace, and you just listen to her. Abby is not loud, never been, but that what makes it so magical - every sigh turns into a quiet whimper the longer you fuck her, and then you feel it, how Abby clenches around your fingers, her orgasm coming closer. 

"You're close, princess, I can fucking feel it. Do you feel it? Does it feel nice when you're so tight around me?"

"Yeah." Abby says in a hoarse low voice and your teeth fucking ache because you want to sink them into her so much. 

"Fuck Abby." You kiss her temple and suddenly you're fucking her so hard Abby gets tense in your arms, overwhelmed. "You have no idea what you do to me."

But Abby is not listening to you because you turn your hand just enough so you could thumb her clit and-

"Fuck!" Abby shrieks and closes her thighs on you as she cums. You stop moving your fingers inside her to enjoy how she pulsates around them, but you continue thumbing her clit."Fuck-fuck, stop-" Abby asks when it becomes too much and you obey her. 

Abby is panting hard and you just kiss her neck and shoulders, waiting for her to calm down, but you can't help yourself so you start slowly moving your fingers in and out. 

"You feel amazing around my fingers, princess."

"Fuck, don't stop, please, don't fucking stop-" Abby whispers and hugs you around your neck. You’re more than happy to oblige, and you can’t help your mean smile as you move your fingers slowly but thoroughly, getting a feel of every centimetre of Abby’s walls. 

It doesn’t take more than a few minutes for Abby to whimper and shudder in your arms again, drenching your hand up to your wrist, and you gently kiss her to help her calm down. Abby is limp on your lap, her head comfortably tucked in your neck as she pants. Abby feels exhausted but ridiculously happy, giddy even - you opened something in her, something that freed her vulnerability fully. God, Abby always knew she could trust you, let you watch her back, but the thought she could be so vulnerable and small with you never crossed her mind.

“Do you want to nap, baby?” You murmur in her hair and Abby hums in agreement. “Okay, let me put your shirt back on, yeah?”

Abby reluctantly lets you put the shirt on her and wrap a blanket around both of you as you adjust your position so you’d be lying down while Abby would be on top of you, so it would be comfortable for her to rest. You open your book again while Abby’s breathing evens out.

“I am watching a pale blue sky be torn across by wind fresh from the russian steppes. Why is it that I find it so difficult to accept the present moment, whole as an apple, without cutting and hacking at it to find a purpose, or setting it up on a shelf with other apples to measure its worth or trying to pickle it in brine to preserve it, and crying to find it turns all brown and is no longer simply the lovely apple I was given in the morning?”

The present moment, whole as an apple - Abby doesn’t have to worry about not accepting it, lulled by your voice and your warmth and your smell - after all, the present is all she has.

[neoplatinum]

opposing worlds | kim chaewon

summary: rooming with kim chaewon was a terribly bad (good) decision.

pairing: roommate!chaewon x roommate!reader

themes: enemies (?) to lovers, college au, fluff, very minor angst, chaewon is a micromanager!, implied sexual content, yunjin!

wc: 3.0k

even though its below freezing outside, with a red nose along with frozen ears, you refuse to enter your apartment. fearing the demon that you live with, her legal name being kim chaewon.

a major pain in your ass is how you would describe living with her. you would rather step on legos than to live with her, but with limited on-campus housing you have to deal the cards that you've been dealt.

so you pace outside, on the welcome mat, biting your nails. just getting the courage to walk back into your apartment. one that turns into a war zone whenever chaewon's being a stickler for rules and regulations (ones that she's made for the apartment). you finally stop pacing when you feel the confidence back in your body.

"i'm not letting her dictate what i can and cant do." you say to yourself quietly, this was ridiculous. not being able to enter a space that you pay for just because chaewon was a micromanager pissed you off more than you would like to admit.

as soon as you enter the apartment, you're immediately hit with the silence of the apartment. it's odd, and you can feel a pair of eyes staring at your back. you pay it no mind as you slip off your shoes. you turn to the sight of chaewon with her arms crossed, standing in that familiar stance of authority. letting out a heavy breath, you know, watch her folded arms, tense jaw, and the most telling sign: her foot tapping rhythmically. so you walk towards her, like a child ready for scolding.

"what's it going to be tonight, chaewon? cleanliness, manners, etiquette, or are you going to comment about my clothes?" you explain, frustrated. It seems you can never get things right around miss perfect.

"cleanliness!" she exclaims, pointing at the many dishes piling up in the sink. you grimace at the sight, just remembering it was your turn to do the dishes. "look at our chore list! it's your week!" she continues point at the very detailed chore poster, your name in big bold red letters.

you groan and grab some gloves, preparing for the long lecture about cleanliness and maintaining a proper space. while you are busy washing all the bowls in the sink and placing them on a drying rack, chaewon begins listing off reasons to always maintain a clean apartment—a lecture you have heard far too often.

"enough, chaewon! i am not five, and i don't need to be lectured on why I need to wash the dishes for the 50th time!" you shout at her, cutting her off from her outburst. she stops, and you can see her lips waver, and her hands are balled into fists.

"then stop acting like a five-year-old!" she shouts back at you, stomping to her room and slamming the door. you wince at the sound, feeling a little guilty for yelling at her, she just really set you off tonight.

so you stand in the kitchen all alone with the sound of running water comforting you. feeling the weight of your words, you feel bad that she has to reprimand you for things you should figure out on your own. with a final dish on the rack, you sulk back into your room, thinking of ways to apologize to your roommate.

--

"chaewon?" you wake up early, feeling guilty that you yelled at her. even though you were tired of the lectures, you knew it was wrong to yell at the girl. you tried making a breakfast that she would like. so with a bowl of oatmeal and a cup of her favorite green tea, you carry the tray towards her room and knock on her door.

"what." her voice is flat and monotone. you shrink into yourself before speaking again.

"i made you breakfast...listen i'm sorry about yelling at you. i shouldn't have and i let my emotions get the best of me. could you open the door?" you explain, feeling awful just remembering her face when you yelled at her.

the door opens slowly and behind the door is an upset chaewon with puffy eyes and a bunch of tissues in hand. you slowly walk in and place the tray on her desk. she's busy with her schoolwork it seems, but it also looks like she's been busy crying with the pile of tissues in her waste basket.

it's weird being in her room ever since you found out how high-strung she was. so you have always steered clear of her room, this is the first time you've been inside. noticing how decorated the room is, it's cute, oddly. it's what you expect of chaewon's room, clean and proper. with a splash of green everywhere, that must be her favorite color.

she stares at the bowl of oatmeal you made her, eyeing it wearily. you groan at her.

"i didn't poison it, if that's what you're thinking." you comment quietly. she nods and sits down in her chair to eat it. you wait patiently, not really sure what to do. maybe waiting for feedback at this point. she just nods and you finally feel your shoulders release tension.

"phew." you say out loud.

"thank you for breakfast, i'll stop lecturing you so much." she says quietly. you nod, a little shocked at how dismissive she is. walking out of her room, you still feel a bit awful, maybe you should invite her out somewhere.

before you can begin to ask her, chaewon is already closing her door behind her. you're just grateful she accepted the peace offering.

--

she doesn't comment on your poor behavior in the next couple of weeks, you just feel inclined to do the chores that have been laid out. you don't hear from her for a while, feeling her absence in the apartment.

some days, when you're past boredom, eyes glued to the ceiling, and daydreaming of becoming rich. you think about chaewon and why she's so persistent about cleanliness. you always thought it was a bit extreme, but you never came back to a messy apartment. so you could appreciate that, you just hope she goes back to her own noisy self.

it's become strangely quiet in the apartment without chaewon's constant annoyance towards you. whenever you step outside in the living room in hopes of seeing chaewon, she's never there. your mood is considerably worse without a person to argue with.

you purposely leave out clothes on the floor for her to scold you, but she never comments on it. just stares at it and walks into her room. so with a dejected face, you pick up your own clothes. you hate to admit that you missing your nagging roommate.

--

"is that chaewon?" your friend shouts into your ear. saturday night out, and instead of staying inside with the awkward tension with chaewon, you're out here to party your anxiety away.

the thing that irks you tonight is that this house party is definitely a fire hazard—way exceeding the maximum number of occupants. you remember chaewon telling you to never stay in a place that breaks the maximum occupants.

you turn your head up at the question, looking around and you finally spot your roommate across the room. all you can conclude is chaewon is stupid drunk—dancing like her life depended on it. people all around her are egging her on, and chaewon breaks out the robot, making you laugh.

then some guy starts getting near her to dance with her, you frown at the sight. setting down your cup as you make your way to the other side of the room.

"woah buddy, back up." you put a hand between the dude and chaewon, he flips you off before walking away. you are about to chase after him to give him a piece of your mind, but then you remember chaewon in front of you. blearly eyes chaewon, with her stumbling and drunk laughter filling your senses. she refocuses her eyes, and they land on you, eyeing your outfit.

"what are you doing here?" she asks in a slurred tone, her finger wagging in your face.

"i could ask you the same thing." you raise your eyebrows, confused by the sight of miss perfect student chaewon partying on a sunday night. she scoffs at you.

"don't tell me what to do." she crosses her arms as best as she can, definitely feeling the drunkness.

"don't tell me what to do." you mock her tone, laughing at her when she gets mad at you. she starts to walk away, but you grab her arm. "hey, let's go home. it's late."

"no! let me go." she stomps her foot like a child.

"alright, let's do this the hard way." you say and and hoist her up, carrying her out the stuffed house.

"let me down! i'm not done partying." she shouts. you pay her no mind as she tries pushing you away. you laugh because she really isn't trying that hard.

so you take her back home, walking down frat row until you reach your apartments. by then she's fallen asleep, arms wrapped around your neck and snoring lightly. it's cute seeing chaewon so relaxed, you're glad you found her, it's been weird being at home without her. you hope whatever is happening between you two just returns back to normal.

you fumble around with the key to your apartment, and with a final push you walk into her room. unwrapping her arms from your neck, as you set her down in her bed. you admire the way chaewon looks in makeup, gorgeous and very serene.

but you also know that chaewon hates going to sleep with her makeup on, so you rummage through her makeup drawer, finding makeup wipes for her. you take the time to gently wipe all the makeup off, finding it peaceful and fulfilling to do so.

she fusses a bit when you wipe too hard. you pull back and let her calm down, before wiping the rest of it off. throwing the used wipes in her waste basket. when you turn around, you see her knocked out cold, laying like a starfish on her green comforter.

you smile at the sight and then roll her under her comforter, tucking her in. with light footsteps, you close her door, and return back to your own room. the smile never leaves your face.

--

it's been about a week since the party, chaewon was embarrassed that you had brought her home. so she bought you coffee and a muffin nearly every morning.

she lets you explain that night from your point of view, her face goes red at the embarrassing parts. you purposely leave out the part where that guy was trying to dance with her. for some reason, you feel upset when you talk about it, maybe he just looked too creepy.

she dissapears into her room soon after, something along the lines of, "i need to process all this."

later that night, you're writing on your laptop when you hear chaewon's door open. the sight of her in a nice form fitting dress and her hair done up, your jaw drops and you jump to your feet.

"where are you going?" you ask. she's checking her purse for something. she looks up at you confused.

"a party?" she states like it's so obvious. your body is jittery at the idea. you think quickly, she's not going out by herself. what if she gets kidnapped?

"wait, let me go with you." you say as you rush into your room to get ready, no way you're letting her go to that party alone. you need to fend off the creepy men for her.

"why are you going?" she asks from outside the doorway. a little confused at the sight of you throwing clothes everywhere. she even steps inside to pick up the clothes now littered all over the floor.

"just cause." you say and grab your outfit. rushing into your bathroom to change. within a few minutes you walk out ready to accompany chaewon.

she's on her phone waiting for you, and you examine her outfit. you rummage through the closet, looking for a nice warm jacket. slipping it over her shoulders as you both set out for the night. you miss how chaewon's cheeks warm at the gesture.

--

it has started becoming a regular habit: if you can't attend the party with chaewon, no matter how late or wasted she is, you always pick her up from the party. if she was too tired or drunk, you would help tuck her into bed.

oftentimes, you even had to help her puke her guts out from drinking too much. but that was never a pretty sight, so you try and get her to puke her guts out before she enters the apartment.

one night, she ends up just crawling into your bed. when you fall asleep, you feel her body warmth against your body. she makes herself comfortable under the blanket. wrapping her arms around your torso as she lays against your pillow.

you move yourself further off the edge of the bed as she scoots closer. she mumbles something about how warm her bed is, and honestly, even with her taking up your personal space, you don't mind.

it has somehow blended into a habit to sleep together every night when she came in the next night, and without a word, slipped under the comforter again. you let her, too scared of saying anything in case it scared her away. it's become a nightly thing to just sleep in the same bed together...even when she's not drunk.

--

"you two do what?" yunjin is staring at you with her food half chewed.

"dont talk with food in your mouth, you're going to catch flies." you comment.

"oh great, now you sound like chaewon too." yunjin bites her food. you decided to contact yunjin in hopes of figuring out what to do with this new "development" with chaewon. the habit of her sleeping in your bed with you. sometimes you wake up and catch chaewon staring at you.

"so you two sleep together in the same bed, brush your teeth together, go about your morning and nightly routine together, and even cuddle...platonically." yunjin questions you, but the sarcasm is dripping as she says it.

"yes." you answer.

yunjin takes a deep breath before starting up again, she didn't think you were so dense. "dude, chaewon is into you."

"no she's not, just two months ago we were at each other throats. don't you remember?" you ask.

"of course i remember, oh my GOD, is this my real life enemies to lovers slow burn 10k words fic in real life?" yunjin says to herself towards the end.

"you seriously have got to get off the internet." you cross your arms staring at the girl. "you aren't helping, by the way."

"help with what?" she asks, a little confused.

"what do i do?" you ask her. ever since the new habit of chaewon and yours, you've been going through your days all confused, always thinking about chaewon.

"you either grow a pair and confess you want to be more than 'sleep buddies' or you wuss out and just let her continue doing this." she says plainly.

you disregard her comment, "forget what i said." you say. yunjin just shrugs and continues eating her meal, letting you sit with your own thoughts.

--

so you do wuss out like an absolute coward. just letting the unspoken words take over you and chaewon's sleeping arrangements. you let her continue to invade your space, moving her stuff into your room. her decorations, her clothes in your drawers, and just recently she moved her desk into your room, placing it just next to your desk.

you were shocked at the arrangement but couldn't find the confidence to comment on it. it's weird; now you two practically exist in each other's space all the time; just two months ago, you were cursing the world for giving you chaewon as a roommate. now you can't imagine going to sleep without seeing her and her hair roller every night.

sleeping together turns into unspoken dates: going to the movies together, going bowling, getting groceries together, and even going to high-end restaurants together.

it's like you're dating unofficially. those were the exact words your friend told you when he came over to visit. when you let him into your room to show off your movie posters, he immediately thought you had a girlfriend, you had to explain to him how it was just chaewon.

he looked at you like you grew a third eye, confused at how chaewon went from most annoying person in the world, to someone who sleeps in your bed every night. you try not to let those words mean so much, but secretly you're hoping you can officially date her.

--

one night, you go out clubbing with chaewon; she looks gorgeous in her tight dress and her hair laid out, showing off her dancing to you. you recently found out thar chaewon was part of the dance team, often visiting her showcases. now you enjoy just watching her let loose, like a free soul, not bounded by her own rules. its beautiful to see.

by the third song of you two circling each other on the dance floor, you kiss her. pulling her into your embrace, hands reaching her back and pushing her closer to you. she welcomes the kiss and lets you pull her closer. hands running up your hair, tugging lightly.

you make out with her against the club wall, and drag each other home with urgency. laughing loudly in the streets like teenagers in love.

"be mine." she breathes into your ears that night.

"only if you're mine too." you kiss her shoulder, and she nods.

--

yunjin visits you two the next day, screaming at the sight of you two in your bed and covering her eyes immediately. you wake up horrified with chaewon clinging onto you as yunjin screams for the whole apartment complex to hear. she slams the door closed and runs out of the apartment. you and chaewon both look at each other before laughing loudly.

even though yunjin avoids both you and chaewon for the next two weeks, you don't feel an ounce of regret. you can honestly say that rooming with chaewon was the best decision of your life.

--

a/n: i feel like chaewon fits enemies to lovers really well but maybe that's just me. didn't really proofread this one but anyways. posting this piece first because it was decided by the people! i hope it was worth the wait! stay safe and stay healthy everyone!

[v3nusxsky]

Do you do Gip reader it's fine if you don't but I was wondering can you do a adhd reader who like doesn't deal with it properly since it can make regulation for emotions really hard an they just snap or go into a really bad depression but get out of it maybe smut sorry if this is a bad request I don't make a lot of these

Wandanat x adhdfem (if you can't do Gip)

Overwhelmed

*Authors note ~ hope this is what you are looking for anon. Sorta self indulgent after a stressful day. I’m fine yall but please please please read the trigger warnings.*

Trigger warnings~ adhd reader, overstimulated reader, emotional irregularities?, mommy Wanda, daddy Nat, oral fixation (r), dry nursing kink??, g!p r (not mentioned) meltdown followed by depressive thoughts, selective mutism (r), self harm

Prompt~ see ask^^^^

You know to everyone else it’s stupid, it’s just misplacing your favourite comfort item. It will appear if you keep looking. You know that as an adult this shouldn’t be a big deal. You shouldn’t be tearing through the room you share with Nat and Wanda looking for it. Tears streaming down your cheeks, clouding your vision as your fits were clenched tight enough to draw blood. The idea it was lost for ever was simply too overwhelming. You need it. Why can’t you just remember what you did. You were pretty sure you had paced the room sixty times over at this point, your clothes stuck uncomfortably to your overly warm body as you made your way to the bed. Defeated and alone.

By the time they found you, Nat’s pillow was soaked in your tears as sobs were choking too. Your pretty face being tear stained and bright red as curled into yourself. “Dekta” the red head mumbled hoping to alert you of her presence but not startle you, Wanda seemingly distressed by your overwhelmingly loud thoughts. Everything was jumbled up and overlapping, it hurt her head to try to piece it back together. Natasha was the one to notice the way you cradled your left wrist to your chest. Unusual. Instantly her instincts kicked in and she glanced around the room to check nothing was amiss. Well besides the absolute mess you left in your wake.

The fact she found the instrument you used to hurt yourself still covered in fresh blood meant they weren’t quick enough. They could’ve stopped you. Maybe even helped you feel better but they didn’t find you in time to prevent your pain. It was then that she noticed you had the corner of her pillow in between your lips, suckling in between your sobs. With a quiet nudge to the witch she immediately head to the joint bathroom to grab the first aid kit. This kit was well loved and unfortunately well used, no matter which one of you needed patching up the other two were there to hold their hand through the pain.

“Daddy” you sobbed over and over again, Nat could fix it. She always did. Wanda felt her heart shatter into pieces as she moved quietly around the room, in search of your waited blanket hidden for times like this. And as if it was purely planned both your girls returned to you at the same time. Wanda settling on the bed next to you as Nat handed her the kit to get it ready, Nat crouched down to be in your eye slight, “daddy’s here my sweet girl. I need to fix up your arm okay baby? Can you be a good girl and let daddy touch you?” Her gentle words seemed to break through the haze after a few attempts. “Daddy” you whimpered looking up at her with big sad eyes. “I’m here Dekta. I’ll be super gentle. I promise. Can I my love?” She held her hand out expectantly but still allowing you to make the decision.

The moment you placed your arm into her hand she leant up to ghost her lips by your cheek, “good girl baby. Daddy’s so proud of her girl.” You watched intently as she gently cleaned the wounds with antiseptic wipes, thankfully nothing to deep so she gently applied some cream to them and bandaged them to stop the bleeding and prevent you from seeing the damage as you came back from the overwhelming state of mind. You didn’t move a muscle, no sound left you, even as your girls praised you. You just blankly stared ahead, stuck in your own mind. “All done baby, why don’t you cuddle with mommy while daddy cleans up hmm?”

They didn’t need a verbal response, the way you curled straight into Wanda was enough to indicate you heard them. It wasn’t uncommon for you to choose to be mute as a coping mechanism. Your right hand brought to your lips as you nibbled at the skin there was another key indicator as to what you needed to feel better. Something Wanda would never deny her girl. So with a flick of her wrist, you were lying on her bare chest as the weighted blanket was draped over your form. “You can baby” Wanda whispered, referring to your loud thought, “Mommy’s here baby.”

You have a little sigh of relief as you latched onto her breast, your right hand coming to rest on her other breast as you sucked lightly. This never failed to sooth you and Wanda loved the connection it had created between you both. Sure daddy was the one to fix things, fight off all the bad in the world but Wanda was the source of comfort that would calm you. Without one the other doesn’t work so to have them both was so special to you. “Such a sweet girl for us Yano that darling? We love our good girl so much. And when you’re ready we can talk about what upset such a pretty princess but for now you just be okay?” Her hand fell to your hair, running her fingers through trying to untangle knots that had formed.

You didn’t even notice when the spy joined you on the other side of the bed, eyes fluttered shut since you first latched on to Wands breast. The only noise to echo around the room was the soft suckling noise as you soothed yourself. Natasha laid her hand lightly over your waist as she took in the sight. Wanda always looked so at peace with when you needed her this way, the way your body instantly relaxed always made her heart warm slightly. “Rest pretty girl. You need it. Mommy and daddy have you. Our good girl” Wanda murmured trailing a finger gently along your cheek hoping to help you drift off into a slumber. There was time to talk later, for now you all could just be. Together like this.

Word count ~ 1002

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Hi!!! I love your Amelia and Emily fics so much, I’ve basically binged them 😂 I was wondering if I could request an Amelia x reader fic where maybe reader is like 6 months pregnant with her and Amelia’s first child and has a bad history with her dad and her dad comes into the hospital with his new wife and her kid and it just stirs bad feelings for reader and Amelia comforts her? Maybe autistic reader? Thank you so much!

Thank you so much! 💕 I'm so, so glad you enjoy them! Also, thanks especially for an autistic!reader request, they're some of my favorites to write! Hope you enjoy! – illdowhatiwantthanks

The R Word

Amelia Shepherd x fem!autistic!reader Warnings: autism struggles, ableism, use of ableist slurs, overstimulation (the autism kind, not the sex kind), explicit language, pregnancy times (let me know if I've missed anything!) Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: It's a typical day working with a child in the ER when your estranged father shows up and makes you feel just as small and stupid and alien as he did when you were growing up. Amelia is there to comfort you and remind you of who you really are.

“No, Mommy!” the little girl wailed as she writhed on the hospital bed. “I want to go home!”

Her mom looked at you apologetically as she tried to soothe her child. You needed to get her vitals. Based on the mom’s description, you also probably needed to get IV fluids and an antiemetic in her. But you knew that wasn’t going to happen while the kid felt scared and overwhelmed. This wasn’t your first rodeo with kids in the ER. In fact, the other ER nurses often called you over when kids were difficult to work with. They called you the “bad kid whisperer.”

You knew better. They weren’t bad kids. They were usually just scared. There was a lot to be scared of at a hospital. And you were good with them because you understood better than most what it was like for your body and brain to feel so overwhelmed that you could no longer regulate your emotions. Being autistic was hard sometimes, it made you stand out, but this was a place where it made you stand out in a good way.

You lifted your hands to show the little girl that you were setting down all your medical instruments.

“It’s okay,” you said quietly, pulling the curtain closed around the bed. Sometimes making the space smaller helped. You bent down to her height, careful to keep your distance and not to touch her.

“I’m Y/N,” you said. “What’s your name?”

The girl didn’t answer, shaking as she sobbed.

You nodded. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk right now. Do you feel like you can’t breathe or anything?”

The girl shook her head.

“Good. Then all this other stuff can wait, okay? I’m not gonna touch you. No needles, no thermometer, no heartbeat or anything until you feel a little calmer. We can wait.”

She seemed to calm down a bit when she realized you weren’t going to make her do anything, her sobs subsiding to the occasionally aggressive sniffle.

“Here,” you offered, pulling a tiny tech deck skateboard out of the pocket of your scrubs. “Sometimes when I’m scared or nervous, having something to do with my hands makes me feel better.” You rolled the skateboard toward her, and she started running it across the rails of the hospital bed, her breathing starting to calm.

“Better?” you asked.

She nodded.

You started taking her vitals and continued the conversation. “You think you can tell me your name now?”

“Maddy,” she whispered.

You smiled even as you read her temperature: 103.4. Pretty high. She was almost certainly dehydrated. “That’s a really cool name. Now, do you know why your mom brought you here?”

“I threw up,” she told you, lip quivering.

“Oh, man,” you commiserated. “That’s the worst. I hate throwing up.”

Maddy nodded.

“Did you throw up just one time or a lot of times?”

“A lot.”

You exchanged glances with the mom to make sure this information was accurate.

“She can’t keep anything down,” the mom worried, biting her nails.

“Okay. Well, that’s okay. We’re gonna help you feel better. First, we’re gonna get some fluids in you. Do you know what that means?”

She shook her head as you gathered the supplies and pulled on gloves.

“It means your tummy is so sick that when you drink water, it all just comes right back out. And that’s not good because your body needs water. Your heart and your lungs and all the things that make you healthy and strong, they need water. So since you can’t swallow it, we’re gonna put a little tube in your arm and send water through the tube. That way your body gets the water it needs. And we’ll send medicine and electrolytes and all kinds of other good stuff to fight the sickness, too. It’s like we’re sneaking weapons past the sick.”

This explanation seemed to cheer her up a bit. “Like a secret mission?” she asked.

You nodded conspiratorially. “Exactly like a secret mission. But to get all that good stuff in there, we’re gonna have to put a needle in your arm. Just for a second! It makes the path for the supplies to go in.”

Maddy seemed to think deeply about this, then nodded. You had her play with the skateboard while you placed the IV line, ensuring that she was comfortably positioned for a good hour or so of fluid intake.

“Thank you,” her mom mouthed to you, and you gave her a quick thumbs up before adding a few reminders to your chart–what to check in the next hour, etc.

Maddy, now calmer, took a good look at you for the first time, from your glasses to your fingers that twitched by your ears, to your stomach that protruded out past your waistline–you were six months pregnant.

“Why are you so fat?” Maddy blurted out.

“Madeline Grace!” her mom hissed.

“It’s okay,” you laughed. “My tummy looks like this because there’s a baby in there. But some tummies are just bigger than others, too, and that’s okay. All tummies are good tummies.”

“Where’s the daddy?” she asked, reaching out to brush her hand over your stomach.

“No daddy,” you explained. “This baby has two mommies. His other mommy works upstairs. On brains.”

“Brains!?” she squealed.

You nodded. “Yeah. She’s pretty cool.”

Just then, the relative calm of a midday ER was interrupted by a loud, brash voice, bursting through the doors, yelling at the nurses at the station.

“Where the fuck is my daughter!? Middle of the fucking work day. Unbelievable. Am I going too fast for you? Read my lips, sweetheart. Madeline. Y/L/N.”

You froze, any icy stream of panic running from the back of your neck all the way down to your heels. You’d know that voice anywhere. It was an angry voice, a coach’s voice, the voice that had yelled at you to “stay the fuck in the bleachers” when all you wanted was to sit in the car and breathe. The same voice that growled at you to stop “doing that shit with your hands, you look like a r*tard.” The same voice that told you over and over that you weren’t “stupid enough to be on the short bus,” but you were “too stupid to function in real life.”

You felt your brain start swirling, felt panic building in your chest. You knew he’d gotten remarried, of course you knew. But you didn’t talk to him, hadn’t talked to him in nearly a decade. You knew they’d had a kid, but you didn’t know it was this kid.

All the ER noises, the beeps of the machines, the buzzing of the overhead lights–were they getting brighter?–the clang of instruments being set down, wails, conversations, and above it all your dad’s voice. Your dad’s voice. It was too much. It was all way, way too much.

You felt your hands start to shake at your sides, your body swinging back and forth, and you had to stop. You had to stop. Your dad would kill you.

He threw back the curtain, and his jaw dropped when he saw you.

“You!?” he spat, looking down. “Are you pregnant!?”

Maddy seemed oblivious to the tension. “Daddy!” she called. “Her name is Y/N and she gave me this little skateboard and the water is fighting the sickness through my tubes and she has a baby in her tummy and the baby’s other mommy fixes brains.”

You tried so hard not to stim, but it was not working. 

“Don’t tell me you’re a nurse?! God, it’s a miracle you didn’t fucking stab her. You shouldn’t be holding any needles with those flappy arms. Probably shouldn’t be holding any babies either.” He shot out his hand and grabbed Teddy’s arm, which was wild to you. The audacity of the man to assume he had the authority to bother the trauma surgeon. “Yeah, honey, we need a different nurse over here. This one’s a r*tard.”

Teddy looked flabbergasted and deeply offended, but also concerned, as you clenched your teeth, hugging yourself, twisting your body back and forth. “It’s doctor, sir, and that word is not welcome at Grey-Sloan. Y/N is a perfectly capable medical professional. In fact, she’s one of our best, especially with kids.”

“I don’t know if you know this, but I feel like it’s my responsibility to tell you,” your dad whispered loudly to Teddy. “She’s got autism. She shouldn’t be handling tools or people or anything.”

Teddy pressed her lips together in frustration. “As I said, sir,” she repeated more forcefully. “Y/N is a perfectly capable medical professional, and we’re lucky to have her. But I’ll get another nurse over here for you. Y/N?”

Teddy beckoned you over, careful not to touch you, and led you to a quieter corner of the room.

“Who the fuck is that guy?!” she asked.

“M-my dad,” you stuttered. Everything in the room–sounds, lights, smells, all of it–seemed to be crashing over you again and again. As if you’d been knocked over by a wave and couldn’t get back up again because they just kept coming.

“You want to hang out in one of the on-call rooms for a bit?” Teddy suggested.

You nodded.

“Should I page Amelia?”

You shook your head. “She’s in surgery.”

Teddy pulled out her tablet to look. “I mean, we could just check.”

“Don’t bother her,” you repeated. “She’s got work to do. I’ll be okay.”

You made your way to the elevator and up to an on-call room, breathing heavily when you shut the door against the rest of the hospital. You turned off the lights, curling into a corner of the bottom bunk and pulling your knees up to your chest–or as close to your chest as they could get with your baby bump in the way.

You rocked yourself back and forth, thoughts spiraling. The movement and the dark usually calmed you down, but you were having a hard time regulating today, and nothing seemed to be working. Your breath just got faster and faster. And the fact that you couldn’t get yourself out of your spiral only made you spiral more.

You knew you were a good nurse. You knew that. You knew because you’d done it. But you hadn’t ever been a mom before. What if he was right? What if the baby made you overstimulated and you yelled or lashed out? What if the baby went to school and you went to parent nights and he was embarrassed of you, of how you couldn’t make eye contact and didn’t start conversations right and didn’t get the jokes. What if being autistic made you a bad mom?

You had tears streaming down your face by the time you heard a light knock on the door. It creaked open and Amelia’s head popped in. When she saw it was you, she quickly let herself in and locked the door.

“Oh, babe,” she said, watching your body rock back and forth in huge, aggressive sweeps. “A bad one, huh?”

“Go away, Amelia,” you hiccuped.

“Hey,” she said, jokingly. Then when she got closer and saw the tear tracks on your face, she said it again, quieter, sitting next to you on the bed. “Hey.”

When you didn’t say anything, Amelia shrugged. “Teddy said your… dad was here?”

You nodded.

She let out a deep breath, running a hand through her hair. “Honey, will you let me hold you? Please?”

You nodded again.

“Alright,” she said, waiting for your body to line up with hers as you rocked, then quickly grabbing you up in her arms, like she was catching something midair. “Gotcha.” She rocked with you.

“What did he say?” she asked, her breath warm on the top of your head.

“That I shouldn’t hold medical tools or babies because I’m a fucking re– I don’t want to say it. I hate that word.”

You felt Amelia’s arms tighten around you, and her breath came out in huffs. She was very angry. “As you should,” she told you. “It’s a nasty word. And it’s a word that doesn’t describe you at all, you know that.”

“I don’t know, Amy,” you whispered into her chest. “What if he doesn’t like me?”

“Babe, I think that ship has sailed,” Amelia said, running her fingers through your hair.

“Not my dad,” you explained. “The baby.”

Amelia was quiet for a moment, then you felt her lips press against the top of your head.

“Oh, honey,” she said, her voice soft. “Of course he’ll like you. He’ll love you. You're his mom.”

“But what if I’m bad at it? What if autism makes me bad at it?”

“Y/N,” Amelia said, gently grabbing your face and positioning it so that you had to look in her general direction, if not in her eyes. “Look how good you are with the kids in the ER. You’re gonna be an incredible mom.”

“I’m just scared,” you admitted.

“I’m a little scared, too,” Amelia told you. “But you know what? I think we’re gonna be okay. Me and you together? I mean, surely, combined, we can be at least one whole good mom, right?”

You giggled.

Amelia grinned at you. “There she is.”

You were quiet for a moment, playing with Amelia’s finger, with the edges of her scrubs.

“You know what you are?” Amelia asked after a bit, kissing your forehead. “You are smart and kind and empathetic. You’re funny and brave and you work hard. You’re my favorite person in the whole world.”

You looked away.

“Hey,” she said, pulling your face back toward her again. “I don’t like people talking about my wife like that. Even you.”

You nodded, wrapping your arms around her waist and pressing your face to her chest.

“Are you going back down there?” Amelia asked.

You shrugged.

“Want me to check if your dad’s still here?”

“Would you?”

“Oh, yeah,” she said, standing and placing one more kiss on your cheek. “In fact, I’d really like to talk to him.”

“Don’t do anything that’ll get you fired, Amy,” you called after her.

She looked back at you and winked as she walked through the door. “Can’t make any promises.”

[eeldritchblast]

Lae'zel is Autistic

(Note: This post was written by someone with professionally diagnosed autism. A lot of what I'm about to say of Lae'zel, I can personally relate to! This is not intended as negativity or hatred of her character; rather, it is one of the reasons I adore her.)

-----

I really don't like that the writers have attempted to tone down Lae'zel's "rudeness" perceived by the larger fanbase. It reminds me too much of how "rudeness" is so often less about hostility and more about one's ability to perform social interactions to the standards of neurotypical people. So for the writers to decide that Lae'zel is too "rude" for not saying her please and thank yous every time she speaks, for being direct, for struggling to have two-sided conversations... well, to me, that's just saying that there was something wrong with her they felt the need to fix. I spent years with people trying to "fix" me in special ed. To teach me how to present as neurotypical, like memorizing appropriate responses to common questions, and pretending to hold eye contact by looking at people's lips. While I will admit it helps me in the workplace for example to perform these things, it also taught me to hate myself for being faulty in the first place. That's something I still struggle with to this day. So when a character like Lae'zel comes along, who I can relate to in her coded autism, I don't want to see her changed. I want to see her celebrated.

Here are some of the signs of autism I've noticed in Lae'zel:

Difficulty regulating and understanding emotion:

Lae'zel is a very passionate person, and can get carried away by that passion. At the same time, she is not very good at self-inventory of her emotions. After she defies Vlaakith in Act 3, she asks the player to help her understand what she is feeling, because she cannot place it herself.

Directness:

As said above, Lae'zel is vert blunt in the way she communicates. If you've picked up the game only in later patches, let me tell you that she was originally even more so. If the player asks Lae'zel why she is the way she is, she says it's just because she is githyanki. While I certainly think some of this could be attributed to a difference in culture, we meet other githyanki, and they do not carry the same speech and manner she has.

Taking things literally:

Lae'zel equally does not understand indirectness from others, or idioms. For example, when Shadowheart asks if they have "buried the hatchet" between them, (an American idiom to mean "making peace" which by the way, is not a very appropriate idiom,) she answers with "why would I bury a weapon?" Again, this could be attributed to a difference in background, but nonetheless something to relate to.

Dislike of small talk:

Literally the first thing Lae'zel says to you after you recruit her is, "chatter already? Tas'ki."

Inflection:

Lae'zel is voiced with minimal modulation of intonation or pitch. As such, she sounds monotone and serious, even when the words she says are lighthearted or joking.

Difficulty handling change of routine/expectancy:

When things do not go as Lae'zel is determined they are supposed to go--for example, the machine she thinks will remove her tadpole not working as she believed it would--she has wild, uncontrolled outbursts.

-----

There's probably even more one could list here, but for now I'm done. I may edit this later, though.

[spectral-phases]

A non-comprehensive guide to my cooking headcanons for the Batfam

I'll add comic panels to support myself when I feel like I'm going very much against the grain of fanon and have to defend my position a little.

Alfred: Master of the craft, learned to cook from French chefs and has been a professional chef as a cover while serving as a spy. He can make you croissants and puff pastry from scratch, but the waffle iron (every waffle iron, yes even that brand new fancy one that is supposed to be so easy to use) was designed in hell to torment him specifically. This may be because even God himself is jealous of Alfred's ability to master a recipe after only reading it once (never refers to it again while working), or watching the video once and so he was given an Achilles heal by the divine. He has a cookbook and personal recipes written down, but very rarely looks at them. He is not the best teacher, and he did not care for children or anyone else in the kitchen, but Martha Wayne was not having any of that, especially for Jewish holidays, and to date, the way he handles kids in the kitchen is his best approximation of how Martha taught Bruce how to cook, but he lacks the requisite patience because he learned how to cook from old school French chefs (Gordon Ramsey without the soft kids mode, but he's never screaming or yelling or cussing people out because he's refined).

He is allowed to cook in the kitchen by himself

The kitchen is his domain and he maintains the right to supervise as needed, with some exceptions

Select people can assist him, but he prefers to do the cooking by himself as its the only thing he adds to the family that they enjoy that isn't cutting off years of his life like medical treatment or running the comms is. He's also stupid fucking fast at it and good at cleaning as he goes, and its hard to have someone else in his very regulated and honed system without mucking it up

Bruce: Contrary to popular belief, the man can cook. Unfortunately, he can only do so if there is a written recipe to follow and it is written in the way that makes sense to his brain. Will read the recipe ahead of time for prep, but will miraculously forget that there is a 3 hour resting period if it is not at the top with the prep time and cook time. Please do not ask him to cook anything after watching a video, it does not stick. Has no sense of what spices do what, so if the recipe says we're using 2 tablespoons of ground cloves, then that's what we're doing. With a good recipe, he can make any food from around the world no matter how complex, however, even something as simple as a tuna salad, ham and cheese, or a PB&J sandwich needs a written recipe with exact amounts and instructions for him to get it done or he will mess it up in ways not even the devil himself could imagine. Look, he has an eidetic memory, but his brain just does not compute that way and he's alway second guessing himself without a written recipe. The only thing he can make from scratch without a recipe are his mother's latkes, but that is, of course, rarely made because of all the emotions, but sometimes he goes through it because he remembers how she had him make them and it feels like she's still there with him, whispering in his ear.

He and Alfred have both agreed to tell anyone who asks that he's not allowed to cook by himself in the kitchen because he will find a way to use three pots and every bowl to make hot chocolate (he will, as a matter of fact), but it's really because when he was younger, he was making a pan sauce that the recipe simply said to “reduce” and managed to burn it so badly it ruined a pan Alfred had inherited from his grandmother and Bruce cannot stomach the possibility of doing that again

He winds up cooking for real these days only if Alfred is injured, but can sit in the kitchen to help supervise (“No, Master Bruce, you'll need a much bigger pot for that”) and explain vague steps in the recipes ("Coat the back of a spoon means that...")(Alexa or other virtual assistants do not help)

He's also a bitch and a boss and a babe and he is? So tired. Most days he would probably wish for the sweet release of death over making one more decision about what to eat and how to get it on the table.

Dick: Despite what his kitchen cabinets may suggest, he makes phenomenal food. He's just putting all his emotional energy into keeping his people alive so if he's on his own then odds are he's having take-out, eating a mix of cereal/granola bars/trail-mix/cartons of protein shakes, or maybe a frozen meal prepped thing from the last time he had the wherewithal and time to do so and is thusly freezer burned to shit. If he is making food for other people? Amazing. Delicious. His repertoire is mainly dishes from Eastern Europe or Southwest Asia, but he has to know what the soul of the meal is if he's making something new. Rarely consults written recipes (unless they're online and have the whole novel of where the recipe came from and what it means and all the pictures of how it's supposed to look at various stages, and he will read that and the ingredient list only), prefers videos, but only from grandmas and grandpas or POC, not the rich white frat boys.

He cooks in any kitchen where Alfred is not and will not be present. You would be forgiven for thinking that he and Alfred could cook in the kitchen at the same time, especially since they can make the same dish with a reasonably similar flavor profile. The fact of the matter is, they both are very much type A personalities (even if Dick likes to pretend he's a type B) and if they are both present during the cooking process they will be at each other's throats constantly about their different methods, even if they are getting to the same destination in the end

Cass: Subsists mostly off of what she can find or what others feed her. She can cook a few simple dishes but they’re not mind blowing. She does make a phenomenal assistant, but she had zero working knowledge of what does what coming into the picture and has been gradually learning. Has learned how to work the waffle iron from Steph, and so is in charge of waffles for breakfast. Waffles has become her thing and everyone lets her have it. She can even make stuffed waffles these days.

Alfred is happy to leave all waffle breakfast adventures in the manor to Cass, she's very polite in the kitchen and doesn't make a huge mess, she'll even clean as she goes so it doesn't interfere with whatever else he is making

She is Alfred's favorite assistant (the rare times that he actually wants one) because she doesn't take his irritation personally because she can see how its meant to be directed at himself and will do exactly as he says

Jason: It's important you know I headcanon his paternal grandmother as Italian (so she cannot be Ma Gunn) and his step-mother as Latina going into this. He can fucking cook like no one's business. He can taste something and recreate it nearly flawlessly. However, he was taught by his nonna and mamita to measure with his heart, so he was presented with measuring cups once and broke out into hives. Only God knows how much of any one ingredient makes it into anything he makes, this includes cakes and breads. The only recipes he's interested in learning are strictly videos from the grandmas and grandpas or POC (Jason has a rule, the shittier the camera quality, the better the food will be, usually). He watched one popular white frat boy cooking video exactly once and was screaming about why they have to dirty approximately sixteen thousand little bowls to measure out each spice by themselves (and that wasn't nearly enough garlic!). He technically has recipes written down by hand from his nonna and mamita, and a few he wrote himself to try and help Alfred understand some meals, they're just hidden away in a drawer that he rarely references for cooking guidance over looking at their handwriting (The set from his family was in the box of stuff the neighbor saved for him that had his birth certificate in it, and he is forever grateful to still have that stuff. He thought for sure it was gone for good). Approximately 80% of all his meals are cooked by him or someone else, even if it's just a quick scrambled eggs and toast.

Jason and Alfred do not coexist happily in a kitchen together. However, they do coexist because Alfred asked him once why he was doing things “that way” as a child and he said his Nonna did it that way and that shut Alfred the fuck up immediately

Jason does not accept help in the kitchen from anyone unless he's making dumplings of any variety or tamales and then everyone's helping put them together

Tim: He only started learning how to cook at the age of 15, so he doesn't have a wide base of experience to draw from or pre-existing knowledge. Tim has a few staple dishes he has learned how to make. It's good, but not winning any awards. However, his hang up is he needs to know exactly how and why things work the way they work in a recipe before he can actually be trusted to cook it on his own. He likes recipes from food scientists, hobbyists or professionals, because they are more likely to explain all the things he needs to know before he can go ahead and cook something more complex. He measures everything in grams, and had to get a scale with 10ths of a gram for spices, once made coffee with lab equipment just for the science of it. Someone got him The Food Lab by J. Kenji Lopez-Alt and it was a game-changer. There is no deity out there that can explain to you the recipes he writes down himself, because their ever changing shorthand only make sense in his brain. Like Dick, Tim does not often have the wherewithal to make complex foods for himself, and so has a bunch of jars of sauces/curries/soups or vacuum sealed pre-seasoned meals ready to go in a sous vide or pot in the freezer to break out as needed. Often freezer-burned because of how little he is at his own place.

Tim is only allowed to cook in the manor's kitchen with supervision because he is likely to make disastrous experiments if left curious and unattended ("I know it's usually done this way, but…" is either going to lead to some delicious food, or an explosion. No way to know for sure unless you're there watching it happen live). What happens in his home kitchen is between him and God

He can make himself useful as an assistant if needed, but usually only for Dick because only he has the patience to put up with Tim in the kitchen

Damian: Has forced himself to learn to cook competently. Will not let himself be outdone by the others, but has learned from all of them. When he's older, he could whip up a Michelin star quality dinner with plating, but doesn't find it worth the effort unless he is trying to impress someone or prove he can. Opts for simple and nutritious meals on the rare occasion he is responsible for his own meals and has the time/desire to cook. Does he measure? Only exactly for baked goods, he will never admit it, but he has no idea how Jason can make baked goods without measuring. There are two things he knows how to make on his own as easy as breathing beyond eggs: Martha Wayne's latkes and Talia's karak chai.

Damian will only cook in the manor if it is more prudent to do so and everyone else there cannot (It's the middle of a blizzard and Bruce and Alfred are sick). Regardless, he is allowed to cook unsupervised in the manor when he's old enough for that to be reasonable.

Will help Alfred but complain the whole time, despite obviously enjoying the time spent with Alfred

Look, he's either helping someone else make something, or he's on his own. Does not care for assistants as he feels like he is constantly being judged.

Barbara: Can cook, will cook, and does cook. She uses slow-cookers and sous vide usually, because she needs something she can throw into a pot and then have to run away from for hours at a time at a moments notice without having to juggle it too. Otherwise it's a microwaved meal. Everything in her kitchen has been fit to accommodate her cooking in her wheelchair and when she's got the time and is really feeling up to it, she can cook a very amazing meal on the stove just for herself or anyone else she's having over.

Will only accept help in the kitchen from Cass or Steph because they are laid back enough to put up with

Steph: Can she cook? Yes. Does she love cooking? No. Cooking is a chore to her and it does not have the payoff she needs to engage with it more than absolutely necessary. She'll look through her pantry and declare that she doesn't have anything good because everything she has was bought when she had more ambition to cook than she currently possesses and then order door dash. The easiest way to get her to cook is to tell her that she's not allowed to. That said, she really loves to bake. She's not winning any awards for her presentation, but it tastes amazing.

Would rather clean dishes than help cook because she does not have the energy to put up with the way the others are while cooking

I haven't read much with Kate, Duke, Helena, or Harper in it, so I don't have anything for them.

[honeyjars-sims]

Part 2 Prologue #1: Growth Mindset

Author's Note: I made some changes to my plans so the next few posts will be the prologue to Part 2 of Safe Harbor. They will fill in some gaps from the last chapter and set things up for the next chapter!

I’m preparing for my therapy appointment but this time instead of making the drive to Evergreen Harbor, I’m logging into our meeting on my PC. 

“So how are things going in San Sequoia?” Khadija asks me once we’re both settled in.

“It’s going great,” I tell her. It’s a little weird seeing her on the screen instead of in person, but before long our conversation feels as comfortable as ever.

“I’m glad to hear it! Is everything going okay with your roommate? I know you were a little apprehensive moving in with someone you don’t know that well.”

“Yeah, Paul’s pretty cool. I figured he would be, being Lucy’s brother and all. And everyone in the community has been welcoming.”

“So no secret cult activity?”

“Nope,” I laugh. “If anyone’s performing any rituals, they’re doing a good job of keeping it under wraps.” My impression of my neighbors so far has been that they’re mostly wannabe bohemians–they like the idea of a homesteading lifestyle but don’t want to fully commit to a life without modern luxuries. Pretentious, maybe, but not harmful.

“It sounds like you like it there.”

“I do. It’s different, but it’s fun. I’ve been helping out with the animals; you know, cleaning the chicken coop and milking the goat, stuff like that. I even helped hatch a chick!”

Khadija laughs. “I have to say, I never expected you to be out in the field doing labor.”

“I didn’t expect it either, but it’s not that bad. I guess I’ve been doing a lot of new stuff lately. Paul convinced me to join a yoga class and I think it’s helped me relax. And would you believe I’ve been doing cross-stitch?”

“Cross-stitch? I wouldn’t have pictured that either, but it sounds nice.”

“Yeah, it takes a lot of patience because I messed up a lot at first, but it's kind of relaxing in a way.”

“Relaxation seems to be a big focus for you right now.”

“I guess so. I’ve been trying to find new ways to regulate my emotions like you suggested. Honestly, I’m feeling really good right now.”

“I can tell. I’m really proud of your progress, Johnny. I can see you’re really putting in the work.”

“Yep, even when it comes to the hard stuff, like having to talk to Lacey, I’ve been able to work through my feelings and do what I need to.”

“Oh yeah, how did that go by the way?”

“It was okay. I just told her what I said to you, that I think she’s a really great person and I value her friendship, but I just don’t have romantic feelings for her. And I apologized for leading her on.”

“How did she take it?”

“Pretty well, I guess. I could tell she was disappointed, maybe even hurt, but she was cool about it. Work was a little awkward for a bit but I think we’ve worked past the worst of it.”

I'm glad that Lacey and I are still friends, but I do feel bad still about how everything went down with her. She's everything that I thought I wanted, but for some reason, it just wasn't clicking for me. The whole thing makes me more empathetic to what Lexie went through when she broke up with me; it really doesn't feel much better to be on the other side of things.

“Well, I’m proud of you for doing the right thing, even if it was difficult. I think it says a lot that you’re trusting your own feelings and not getting hung up on what you think you should do. I’d like to see you do that more often. How does that sound to you?”

“Good, but a little scary,” I answer. 

“A little fear is understandable as long as it’s not keeping you from growing. I think you can work through it, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I think so.” I wasn't sure I'd ever get to this place, but for once in my life, I actually feel like I can handle whatever's coming my way. And I can't wait to take it on.

Previous | Beginning of story | Beginning of chapter | Next

[pricklepearbloom]

Hey I've love love loved your acotar fics and was wondering if you could do like a jealousy fic with az like he's being completely irrational about the amount of time your spending with one of his brothers but you only love him and he goes to elain for comfort but it ends in fluff after a big argument because as we know he struggles to regulate/show his emotions thanksss

-🥒

a/n: hey loveee I hope this is something along the lines of what you wanted! I've never done an ask before (omg first!!) If anyone else has any request, don't be afraid to slide into my inbox bb.

All I Want

Pairing: Azriel x OC (Ruby)

Warnings: just some good old-fashioned angst, not beta read

Word count: 3.5K

As the morning sunlight gently filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room, Ruby found herself in a cocoon of comfort, wrapped in the tender embrace of the love of her life, her sweet mate Azriel. The soft rhythm of his breathing and his heart synchronized with hers in a sweet lullaby. In the mornings, it felt like the world outside the haven of their bedroom seemed to pause before the chaos of the day began. Gods she loved weekends, nothing to do but relax and stay cozy Ruby mused as she cuddled in further into her mate’s strong chest.

He pulled her closer as he began to wake placing a soft kiss on her head, practically shoving his nose into her hair to drown in the scent of her shampoo. “Mmm what time is it?” Ruby lightly rasped out, voice rough from disuse. “Who cares, I intend to stay right here all day.” Azriel replied as he gave her a small squeeze, running a thumb lightly along the small of her back. Ruby smiled softly letting her brain imagine spending all day in bed.

Shoot. She couldn’t spend all day in bed. Ruby’s eyes shot open and she sat up at breakneck speed. Azriel scrunched his brows and followed her up to a sitting position. “Is everything alright? Hey, wait where are you going?” He calls as Ruby jumps out of bed throwing on her dressing robe running into the bathroom.

“I’m sorry! I totally forgot I promised Cassian that I would meet with him today.” Ruby said her voice muddled from speaking with her toothbrush in her mouth. Azriel felt his stomach drop a bit, he had been looking forward to spending time with her today. Rhys had been piling more and more work on his plate and he promised he wouldn’t intervene today. “But wai-“ he tried to get out “I’m sorry I’m running terribly late I can’t believe I forgot, he’s going to kill me.”

Azriel took a deep breath as he watched her run around their bedroom putting on undergarments then picking up and smelling and pair of pants, making a face and putting it back down before repeating the process until she had found one that suited whatever clearly questionable requirements she had for clean laundry.

“I’ll be back later okay?” Ruby glanced up from pulling her shoes on her feet and saw the slightly lost look on Azriel’s face as he was still sitting upright in bed, mouth slightly ajar. She felt a kernel of guilt tighten in her stomach. “I can cancel if you want. I’m sorry I forgot to mention it, Cassian asked me to help him pick out an anniversary present for Nesta and you know him, he’s useless at that kind of stuff.”

Her eyes softened and she crawled back on the bed placing a soft kiss on Azriel’s sharp jawline that seemed clenched before immediately relaxing after feeling her soft lips on his face. “But if you want, I can absolutely cancel, and we can stay in bed and spend the day together?” He shook his head lightly, “no, it’s fine. You should go. Someone needs to stop him from buying her an engraved horse saddle.” He sighed “I’ll just miss you; will you be back later? Maybe we can make hot cocoa and read together?”

A fond smile came to Ruby’s lips at the idea. “That sounds lovely darling. I think I should be back just after lunch; I’ll see if we can stop by the bakery to get some of those pastries that you love.” She scooted off of the bed before leaning back in for one last kiss. Azriel wanted to make it count, his hand gently caressed her jaw and neck, thumb swiping back and forth along her cheek as he firmly planted a deep kiss that sent Ruby reeling. Azriel’s kisses were always filled with passion and love, they were like a drug to her, she could never get enough. Azriel was the first to pull away, a small smirk on his face seeing her eyes still shut spinning from his kiss. Still got it, he thought to himself smugly. “I love you.” She said softly before practically prancing out of the room, taking Azriel’s heart with her.

That was only the beginning, it seemed. Azriel noticed that Ruby seemed to be spending a lot of time with Cassian. Rationally he knew that nothing would ever happen between them, but his feelings didn’t seem to care much for rationality when Ruby was concerned. His anxiety rose higher and higher as the weeks passed on, holding it all in until one day, after coming home from a long and hard mission, he came to his breaking point.

Muscles aching from a mission, Azriel landed on the balcony of the Townhouse to see Rhys. Meetings with Rhys could take either five minutes or an hour and he had a feeling that this particular meeting was going to be on the longer side. He mentally groaned, his entire body was practically screaming at him to return to his home and wrap his arms around his warm, soft, loving mate. Ignoring the buzz that’s ever present when he thinks about Ruby, he steps off of the balcony and opens the glass door and is met with a rush of warm air and the comforting scent of his home and- is… is that his mate?

His pupils immediately dilated, and his pace picked up tenfold. He swiftly moved through the house following her unmistakable scent, his ears perking up at the sound of her laughter. His ears picked up a low rumble that distinctly did not sound like his mate. His hackles immediately rose as he rounded the corner to see Ruby and Cassian sitting side by side on the couch. He was operating on fumes and all his mind saw at that moment was the love of his life with a man that was not him and all. he. saw. was. red.

“What is this.” His voice cut through the warm atmosphere like his truth teller on a mission. Ruby’s eyes snapped up to meet his and lit up with excitement “Az!” Jumping up off of the couch to greet him. She took in his tight expression and lowered her arms that were barely raised to embrace him.

“What’s wrong?” She said cautiously taking a step toward him “Oh, not much. Just came here to debrief before going home after a very long day to see my faithful, loving mate. Only come to find her here with my brother.” Ruby’s eyebrows scrunched shocked while Cassian’s rose to his forehead “Azriel. You’re out of line.” Cassian said slowly rising from his seat on the couch with a confused expression on his face.

Cassian’s defense only served to anger Azriel even more. Obviously if he was being defensive that meant that something was going on. Ruby had been spending an obscene amount of time with Cassian, something more had to be going on. “Am I? Please, Cassian, tell me why you’re spending your night with my mate when you have your own to attend to? Or is she not enough for you anymore that you had to take what was mine as well.” Azriel practically spat out, his shadows lashing out from his body reacting to his heightened emotions.

Cassian’s eyes darkened at the slight against Nesta. “Don’t speak a word about my mate. She is and will always be enough for me. What is going on with you? This isn’t like you at all.” And he was right, the emotions that were roiling through Azriel didn’t feel like him at all. Usually, he would be ecstatic to see his mate and his brother getting along so well. When they first met, Ruby had some issues with feeling welcome into the inner circle. They were a tight nit group, and she was easily overwhelmed by the depth that each of them knew each other, it often felt like she would never find her place beyond being Azriel’s mate.

“Cass do you mind giving us the room for a minute?” Ruby said gently, not letting her eyes leave Azriel’s. Once the war general gave a tense nod and slipped through the doorway to give the couple some privacy, Ruby took another step toward Azriel. “Az,” Ruby said hesitantly “I promise nothing was going on, Cassian and I were just catching up. Why don’t you take a seat, and we can talk about whatever’s going through your head?” A wave of embarrassment flooded through Azriel, but he shrugged it off, choosing to shut down instead. “Unfortunately, I need to meet with Rhys to debrief. I’ll meet you at home.” Ruby’s eyes sharpened at his harsh tone. “Fine. But don’t come back until you figured out what the hell is going on with you and you’re ready to talk.” Azriel didn’t bother to acknowledge her as he strode out of the room headed for Rhys’ office.

Following the fight, Ruby went home and sat and waited for Azriel to come back. She reflected on their little spat and agonized over every word. What could she had said differently? It pained her that her mate was hurting and that he wouldn’t let her help. When he comes home, she thought, we’ll sit here and talk about whatever is going on with him and then we’ll move forward from there. That’s all we can do.

But minutes turned to hours and Ruby still sat on the couch. A debrief had never gone on this long before and Ruby was sure that he was probably just taking some time to cool off. She didn’t move from her spot on the couch as the day turned to night and somewhere in the late hours of the night, she fell asleep on the couch, still waiting.

A door shutting woke Ruby from her slumber, her neck aching with the pain of being held in the wrong position for too long. Ruby reached up, trying to rub the ache away her eyes locking onto the dark figure standing in the archway that leads to their living area. “Hi.” Azriel said hoarsely “What time is it?” Ruby said her gaze peering out of the window seeing the light peek through the linen curtains they had picked out together “Did you just get home?” Azriel nodded unable to meet her eyes. “W-Where have you been? Why didn’t you come home last night? I waited up all night for you.” Ruby said standing from her place on the couch, leaving the imprint of her body on the couch from hours of use.

“I stayed with Elain for the night.” Ruby’s heart sunk through the floor. It was no secret that there was bad blood between the two. Azriel and Elain had an attachment of sorts until Ruby came into the picture and Elain made it very clear that she was not a fan of Ruby. She was constantly spouting vitriol about Ruby while she was still new to the inner circle, never in ear shot of Azriel of course. Eventually, Ruby made her discomfort known to Azriel and he had put distance between himself and Elain. His interest in her had been waning for some time and when Ruby came into his life, he didn’t give the Archeron sister another thought. His heart and mind set on the kind and strong female that the cauldron had blessed him with.

“Why?” Ruby’s rasped through a tight throat, thick with emotion. “Did you- Azriel did you cheat on me?” Her eyes welled up with tears as she stared at him incredulously, a sharp pain shot through her chest at the idea.

“No, no. I would never do that to you Ruby. I just...” he paused dropping his gaze to the floor. “I wanted you to feel how it felt when I saw you with Cassian.” Now that the words had left his mouth, he wished he could take them back. He wished he could shove them into a box and never let them see the light of day again because the look on Ruby’s face, it was enough to make him want to take truth teller and shove it into his gut until he bled out at her feet.

“You- you went to Elain’s to get back at me?” she said hoping that her ears had been lying to her and she didn’t hear that her mate had done something so… so spiteful. She had been trying to hold them back but once the first tear came it was like opening the floodgates. Azriel took a step forward reaching out to brush them away and to comfort her but she matched his step, taking one backward, flinching away from his hand. “I think I need some space.” She stepped past the couch that she had been sitting at all night waiting for him to come home so they could make up, but he was with her.

Azriel lightly grabbed her wrist as she passed him intending to head quickly toward the stairs that led to their bedroom. “Ruby, please. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” Ruby jerked her arm out of his grasp spinning around on him. “Really? You weren’t thinking for the entire night? I find that incredibly hard to believe Azriel. Leave me alone.” She practically ran up the stairs and slammed the door shut, locking it swiftly. She practically collapses into sobs on their bed, her tears staining the pillows still made and fluffed from yesterday morning.

Azriel’s heart shattered into pieces as he tried the door handle, finding himself locked out of his bedroom, unable to console and comfort his mate who he betrayed. He felt like beyond an idiot. What was he thinking? Going to Elain of all people? After his meeting with Rhys, he felt his emotions pulling himself in a million directions. He ran into her in the kitchen, fully intending on going home to sort things out with his mate, she saw the look in his eyes and offered an ear and some tea. A dark part in Azriel thought well if his mate was going to talk to another male then he could talk to another female. A large part of his heart ached to be with Ruby, but mess of his feelings kept him seated. They sat there all night talking and the next thing he knew it was light outside marking the next day.

If he could turn back time, he would slit his own throat before sitting to tea with Elain. It would probably hurt less than he felt now, hearing his mate’s sobs through the locked door knowing there was nothing he could do to help. “Please, Ruby.” He croaked out after hours of sitting outside of the door. “I’m sorry. I… I was jealous and stupid, and I wanted to make you hurt like I was hurting. It’s felt like you’ve picked Cassian over me for weeks and I didn’t know how to talk to you about it. I’m so sorry my love, you deserve a better mate.” Her cries had softened to a sniffle and he heard a click of the door. It surprised Azriel who had been sitting on the ground, head hung low.

He shot up, the door opening to reveal Ruby with a red nose and puffy eyes, irritated from hours of crying. He didn’t think his heart could break any further, but he found himself wrong once again.

“I don’t deserve a better mate. I have the perfect mate, Azriel.” She said softly, his heart daring to lift an inch off of the ground of the pit that it found itself in at her words. “I deserved to be treated better though, yes.” He hung his head nodding solemnly. Ruby walked back to bed and crawled beneath the sheets. Azriel hesitated to get close to her, his eyes shone with tears unshed. The desperation to be close to her was palpable and Ruby granted him mercy lightly tapping on the bedspread next to her. He wasn’t going to question her as he kicked off his boots practically racing for the bed before she changed her mind. They lay side by side turned so they could see each other. Whenever they were in bed, they were always wrapped in each other’s arms so not being able to touch her was agony for Azriel.

“What happened Az? Why didn’t you talk to me about how you were feeling with me seeing Cassian?” She whispered, wrapping her arms around herself as a way to comfort herself from the conversation they were having. Azriel reached out to tuck a piece of hair that had fallen into her face before thinking better of it halfway and pulling it back away. Ruby gently grabbed his hand and led it back to her cheek. As upset as she was, she craved the comfort that only he could provide. He caressed the side of her face, his thumb gently stroking back and forth. She closed her eyes feeling the familiar sensation, relishing in the warmth and care he provided.

“I was embarrassed, I think. I know you would never cheat on me but whenever you left to see him it felt like you were choosing him over me. And then it felt like you were spending all of your time with him and I felt like I wasn’t enough for you. Like you had to seek happiness elsewhere with someone more worthy.” He whispered back the insecurities that had flooded his brain as of late. Ruby shook her head vehemently, “I’m sorry you were feeling like that Az, I had no idea. Why do you keep saying that you aren’t worthy? You are.” She pressed not breaking eye contact with him as if to hammer home her reassurance. He didn’t deserve his kind mate. He should be reassuring her and here he was blubbering about his insecurities. “I don’t know. You are this ball of light and bring so much warmth into my life and what do I bring you? Baggage and pain.” He held his breath as he dared to whisper his deepest thoughts. As if, if he spoke them too loudly, she would realize his words to be truth and would up and leave. But she didn’t. She just shook her head sadly.

“I wish you saw yourself the way I saw you. You are strong, you’re a loyal friend,” he flinched, he wasn’t being very loyal when he went to Elain, Ruby gave him a knowing look. “We’ll get there. You are the best person I know Az. I wish you gave yourself the benefit of the doubt.” Ruby gave a moment of pause watching Azriel shake his head in disagreement “Do you think that I am a good person?” He nodded, “of course. The absolute best.” “Then why would my mate be someone terrible? Wouldn’t it make sense for the one that my soul is bound to by the cauldron to be just as good?” Azriel pondered, he had never thought about it that way before.

Ruby nodded to herself before taking a deep breath “So. Tell me about Elain.” Azriel shut his eyes. “Gods I’m such an idiot. I’m so sorry my love. I promise that nothing happened, I was fired up after the meeting and she and I just talked. I acted despicably and if I could do it all over again, I would come straight home. Words-“ His voice cracked and he cleared his throat “words cannot express how awful I feel about it. If you want me to never speak to her again I will, just say the word. Please don’t leave me. Please. I’ll do anything.” He had never begged before, but he wasn’t above getting down on his knees for this female that ruled his world.

Ruby shook her head lightly “I’m not leaving you.” A weight lifted off of Azriel’s shoulders at her words and he began softly crying tears of relief. The rare sight of Azriel crying was too much for Ruby’s heart to handle and she wrapped her arms around her mate holding him tight. “What you did wasn’t okay. You lashed out to hurt me and I won’t just stand by and be your punching bag when you don’t know how to express your emotions.” Azriel nodded pressing his nose further into her hair taking a deep breath centering himself in her scent. She was here, she wasn’t leaving. “I’ll do better, I promise. I’ll communicate more when I’m feeling upset and we can work through it together.” Ruby nuzzled into his chest humming her approval. “And I’ll be more sensitive to making quality time with you a priority.” They stayed like that for an hour before Ruby broke the silence. “What if we took a little time off from the world? Spent some time just cooped up here, getting back into our groove and patching everything up?” Azriel let out a deep sigh a small fond smile finally taking to his face. “Yes, my love. That sounds wonderful.” They spent the rest of the day there, holding on to each other basking in the other’s warmth.

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

heyy!! I LOVE your Poly Plastics fics, do you think you could do one where Regina's father has an outburst at home one day and Reguna realizes she has to take her little sister (4 year old Kylie) out of there, so the Plastics support this and since Regina's parents don't even care much about their daughter they don't give a damn, then you show the 3 of them taking care of Kylie who was a little shaken and needy (from getting too attached to them)??

No Looking Back

|| poly!plastics shenanigans

|| Warnings; regina's father being a bitch, regina standing up to him, protecting kylie, swearing, agnst/comfort

|| Summary; Regina comes home one night to her father yelling at Kylie. She takes her to Gretchen's to protect her.

Requests open!

Started; october 16th

Finished; october 16th

~~~

Regina knew her parents weren't the greatest, there were many times where she would hear her father yelling. Or be the one being yelled at. She'd learnt to just sit and tolerate it, knowing that was the safest option. It wasn't something she wanted people to know about her either, because then that becomes all you're painted as. So she even kept it from her girlfriends, Gretchen and Karen. Until one night.

One night where she had come home late to hear her father yelling at her four year old sister, Kylie. Who definitely didn't deserve whatever screaming match he was having with her. Regina shared a glance with her mother, who had been standing off to the side looking upset. She knew her mom wasn't about to do anything; which left things to her. Regina knew she had to get Kylie safe and that's just what she was going to do.

If she thought of her father as just another nerd, another jerk she had to deal with at school. Maybe this wouldn't be so hard. She's yelled at those people plenty of times. She could do this. Taking a breath, she marched up the stairs and to Kylie's room. Stepping between her father and her sister.

"Kylie, cover your ears." Regina demanded, glancing at Kylie. Who nodded and listened, despite the tears rolling down her cheeks. Regina looked back at her father. Could she even call him that? He never acted like one." Back the fuck away from her! You wanna yell? Yell at me!" She screamed, giving him pause for a moment. Regina's hardly ever yelled back at him. He wasn't ready for this.

"Regina. Go back downstairs, not everything is about you." His glare tore into her soul, but she kept her ground. She wasn't about to back down. In fact, she went as far as spitting in his face. Which only fuelled his anger." You little-" He was seconds from striking her, but Regina picked up Kylie and ran out of the room with her. Her dad followed after, so Regina kept going. Not even giving her mom a second glance as she ran to her jeep. Setting Kylie in the front and making sure she was buckled up good. Yeah, Regina knew this wasn't legal to have her in the front. And without some kind of booster. But she didn't have the time for any other options.

She got out of there as fast as she could without looking back.

"Kylie, I need you to take a breath and grab my phone for me. Okay?" She glanced at the girl then back at the road, Kylie nodded. Struggling to take a breath at first but doing her best to regulate her emotions.

She grabbed Regina's phone and looked at her older sister," what now?" She asked, her tone a quiet murmur.

"Press the numbers 6754." She continued to coach her through what she needed her to do. Kylie did just that, Regina made sure Kylie had learnt how to use a phone at a young age for emergencies. And Kylie's used it a few times to get ahold of her, normally stealing their mother's phone." Do you see Gretchen and Karen's picture in my contacts? Can you call one of them?"

Kylie clicked on Gretchen, the phone rang for only a second before Gretchen answered, sounding pretty excited that Regina actually called her." Gina! Oh my god! Hi!!"

Kylie smiled when she heard Gretchen, having put the phone on speaker. Gretchen was definitely one of her favourites. She always talked to her when she came over." Gren!!!" Kylie smiled at the phone.

Gretchen paused for a moment, then laughed softly." Kylie, honey. Did you take Regina's phone?" Her tone shifted to softer, more kid suitable.

"No, I told her to call you. We're coming over." Regina spoke up, letting Gretchen know she was there too. Gretchen's eyes widened.

"Wait what? Did something happen?"

"Daddy was mean.." Kylie mumbled, Gretchen frowned at that. What did Kylie mean? How mean was he for Regina to be bringing her?

"I'll explain more later when she's in bed. I just had to get her out." Regina sighed, she was a good distance from the house now. She finally gave herself the chance to breathe. Loosening her grip on the wheel. Gretchen could tell how stressed Regina seemed and that worried her, she felt bad for the blonde.

"Yeah, that's okay. I'll set up a space for her. My parents are out for a few nights so you can stay as long as that. I'll see if I can convince them to let you stay longer when they get home." Gretchen replied.

"Thanks, Gren. Seriously." Regina wasn't one to thank people, so Gretchen could tell she was serious even without her saying the 'seriously' part.

"I'm here for you, baby. No matter what. I love you." Gretchen told her, Regina tensed a little when the L word was said. Gretchen and Karen said it a lot, but Regina didn't say it often. Though they knew she loved them. Even without her saying," want me to invite Karen?"

"Yeah. Yeah, call her. I'm about five minutes away. See you in a minute. Kylie, hang up for me?" Regina glanced at her sister who frowned and looked ready to cry again.

"I wanna talk with Gren!" She whined, Regina's grip retightened on the wheel. She didn't know how to handle stuff like this.

"We can see her in a few minutes, if you hang up." Regina tried to negotiate.

"Regina, I got it. I'll see you soon Ky, okay? Really soon, promise. And we can talk as much as you want, how does that sound?" Gretchen was better with kids, which Regina really appreciated.

"Okay!!!" Kylie was smiling and giggling again.

"Thank you." Regina sighed, relieved Gretchen helped her out.

Gretchen hung up the phone and they soon arrived at Gretchen's house. Regina picked up Kylie and carried her inside, shutting the door behind her with her foot as Gretchen came over.

She took Kylie from Regina's arms and smiled wide," Kylie! Hey, girlie!!" Kylie giggled as Gretchen carried her. Regina was tempted to ask for a hug too, needing more comfort right now than she ever carried to admit. Gretchen noticed almost immediately and, keeping an arm around Kylie, offered a hand to Regina." Come here, baby."

Regina let her guard down just a bit, accepting the group hug. She was trying not to cry, the whole night had been stressful for her. But now she could relax. Her father wouldn't know where to look for them; one of the plus' to having a very distant parent. They don't know where any of your friends live. Even her mom, who did know her friends, didn't know. They'd be safe at Gretchen's.

The door opened and Regina nearly jumped out of her skin, but it was just Karen.

"Jesus fuck, Karen." She sighed, resting a hand on her chest to steady her heart. Karen frowned, not sure what she did wrong.

Kylie pointed at Regina," sis said a bad word."

"Regina, no bad words." Gretchen was trying to keep a serious face and not laugh, Regina just rolled her eyes. It's not like she could have helped it.

"I don't get it." Karen said.

The rest of the night was spent with the girls taking care of Kylie, Gretchen did the most but she didn't mind. She liked spending time with the girl. After they got her to bed, Regina explained what had happened. Then Gretchen and Karen focused on comforting Regina. Lots of cuddles, praise and kisses. Assuring her that she did the right thing for Kylie.

[ovwechoes]

'Worst Habit' Headcanons!

Here's some sfw headcanons for what I think Overwatch members' worst habits are c: (I rambled a bit so it's under the cut as per usual)

Winston: It's obvious that Winston loves peanut butter, which is fine in and of itself. I think he has a really bad habit of leaving empty pots around the Overwatch HQs, especially his room though. That, and making the worst combinations imaginable. Like peanut butter and spicy chips, or peanut butter and eggs, that sort of thing. He would convince everyone to try it, and feel rejected if they didn't. It's his worst habit but not necessarily a toxic one; otherwise he's a pretty sensible individual.

Lena Oxton / Tracer: Tracer's worst habit is definitely picking at her nails. She tends to do so as a self soothing action, but she doesn't know when to stop and it causes her to have scabs sometimes that Emily has to mend for her. It's something she's aware of but nothing helps to stop her from doing so; she's tried picking stones, those zit popping toys, everything. Nothing feels as good as picking her skin when she's anxious.

Mei-Ling Zhou / Mei: When Mei's in a low mood and is struggling mentally, she sometimes finds it hard to avoid not talking down herself, or viewing herself negatively. It seeps into the atmosphere in HQ, and it's something that she struggles to get herself out of. Once the bad thoughts start, she can't control them and struggles to do so, especially when they involve her survivor's guilt.

Genji Shimada / Genji: Genji used to have several bad habits he's learned to stop over the years, like playing games in his bed, eating unhealthy food too much, smoking probably at one point or another. But he still cant shake the bad habit of skipping training sometimes because he can't be bothered. If he's not in the mood, there's no way he's gonna be seen in the gym strength and ability training unless Brigitte drags him there.

Reinhardt Wilhelm / Reinhardt: Reinhardt has a tendency to overdramatise everything; from his speech to his stories. This applies too to his emotions, and he feels them too close to his heart as though his skin was made of paper. He struggles with his ability to regulate his emotions, and it's something he's aware of but views it as something positive, rather than negative. He wouldn't admit that it's his worst habit, but everyone around him would.

Brigitte Lindholm / Brigitte: Brigitte takes care of herself very well; she views the human body as a machine that needs rest, supplements, nutrition, etc. But her worst habit is remembering to drink when she's working on something or busy with a mission. The amount of times Angela has had to admit her for dehydration isn't even funny, and Reinhardt is always getting yelled at by Torbjorn for 'letting it happen to her'. It's one of those things where when Brigitte is focused on something, she forgets everything else going on.

Angela Ziegler / Mercy: Angela has a very bad problem with doomscrolling online. Once she starts, she cant stop even when she gets ads telling her to take a break. She doesn't necessarily enjoy it, and it keeps her up late into the night, but it's a distraction for her from everything going on in the world. Don't ask to see her app usage history; it'll entirely be instagram reels and tiktok with like 9hrs a day average usage.

Echo: Sometimes, Echo fails to match her responses to the mood of the situation. She tends to take a direct and neutral stance on everything, so her worst habit is that sometimes she comes off as though she's playing devil's advocate, when she isn't. She's just simply showing all aspects that the person she's talking to might not have considered. She's a very logical being, but the way in which she does this sometimes comes off negatively on other people.

Vivian Chase / Sojourn: With Vivian, I can imagine she has a bad habit of getting stuck in nostalgic loops. She likes to look back on the past, understand what happened and what went wrong, but if she lets herself do it too much or for too long, she lingers on her mistakes and it affects her mentally. Similarly to Mei, she feels survivors guilt and feels ashamed for the events in Canada that happened to her sister and niece years ago. Vivian loves a blast from the past, but struggles to regulate how far back to go and how much to think about it.

Lúcio Correia dos Santos / Lucio: Lucio has a very bad habit of staying up too late, working on music or plans for the next day, to the point where he misses sleep and is extremely groggy in the morning. It's something he gets distracted with and loses track of time with. It doesn't help either that he has time blindness and gets lost in the music.

Cole Cassidy / Cassidy: Smoking is his worst habit; everyone working in Overwatch will tell you that. He refuses to try vaping, and prefers cigars to anything else. His cough is disgusting at times, and he has nicotine rush every morning after his first cigar, which makes it hard for anyone to talk to him and get a response from him properly. It's something he has no intention of stopping, as he's here to live a good life not a long one, but everyone has an issue with it when he smokes around them because his favourite brand absolutely reeks.

Fareeha Amari / Pharah: Fareeha holds grudges too long; she struggles with forgiveness and moving forwards. She won't admit it, but it's something that affects her relationship to her family and previous friends. If she's wronged as well, it only takes that one moment for her to give up emotionally and mentally on that friendship. It's not rational, and she understands that, but it's something she views as another form of protection, like armour against people who could hurt her or abandon her.

Jean-Baptiste Augustin / Baptiste: Baptiste is a bad influence when it comes to drinking and has a bad habit of not knowing his own limit. To this day, he still wonders how he's the first one to be absolutely drunk when everyone else around him is barely tipsy (even after he's had 3 shots one after another of fireball on an empty stomach). He indulges in it too much and he doesn't know his own limit to drinking, so you can imagine Cole and Angela have had to comfort him while his head's in the toilet bowl.

Aleksandra Zaryanova / Zarya: Zarya has a tendency to give everyone grace and understanding, even when they don't deserve it. She gives people too many chances, and too many opportunities to use her. It's something she's working on, but she views the world in a more positive light than others and wants to keep the optimism she has for other people.

Hana Song / D.Va: Hana has been told for years she holds herself to too high standards with her work and efforts in Overwatch, and she works herself to the bone. It's something she doesn't view as wrong, but it impacts her body and mind SEVERELY. Angela and Brigitte have had several conversations about taking breaks and not pushing herself too hard with staying up late for work, skipping meals, exhausting herself on missions, etc. It's her worst habit and even she would agree, but she doesn't intend to change it when it gives her the results they need.

Bastion: Bastion's worst habit is getting distracted easily; he's like a kid in a candy shop sometimes with the places Overwatch takes him, and he loves to show Ganymede everything he finds and take them places he enjoyed. It's bothersome sometimes, especially if he's nowhere to be found on a mission because he's busy showing Ganymede the other birds near their temporary station. It is what it is though, and seeing Bastion happy and on their side is something they appreciate.

[wambsgansshoelaces]

prompt number 4 with shivvy please 😇

Honey

Prompt: “C’mere, you can sit in my lap until I’m done working.”

Siobhan Roy x Reader

summary: cuddles, baked goods, and insecurity

okay so a few things… this is my favorite fic I’ve ever written. I’m sorry that it’s so much shorter than everything else, but I’m sooo proud of it I love it so much it’s my little baby

I wrote way beyond the prompt, so I hope you don’t mind xx I was just making myself feel better haah xx

anon, thank you so much for requesting <3 I love you and I hope you love it xxx

tw for weight and eating talk. you’re beautiful, I love you, and you deserve the world, reader <3

Word Count: 1.628k

“Come on, babe, just give me another half hour.”

You’re perched on your girlfriend’s desk as she works. Shiv’s been here, at the Waystar office, since six in the morning. It’s now eleven P.M.

“You’ve been here for way too long,” you point out. She doesn’t say anything, absorbed in whatever it is she’s working on on her computer. “I wanna go home.” You pout at her, trying to earn some sympathy.

She heaves a sigh, going to type something. “Then go home.” Her voice comes out harsh, and you wince. She’s been overworking herself for weeks. You know she doesn’t mean to be snappy- it just happens to her. She gets overwhelmed, she gets frustrated, and she’s still working on being able to regulate her emotions when they’re negative. You frown at her from your spot on the corner of her desk. She stops herself, taking a short breath. “I’m sorry. I just really need to finish this stuff.” She rolls her chair closer to you and leans up, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss before going back to work.

“Love, what’re you even working on?” you ask softly, moving to hook your fingers around hers. She smiles, but keeps her eyes trained on her laptop.

“Just some campaign things. They need to be done before tomorrow afternoon, and I have meetings all morning…” She fiddles with one of the rings on your pointer finger.

“Look, do you know you really can’t wrap up now?”

“No, really, babe, I have to get this done-”

She’s interrupted by the noise you make sliding off her desk. “I’m sorry, it’s just- I’ve been here all day, Shiv. You have, too, and if you’re not going to come home with me…”

“What? You’re going? No, No.” She looks up at you, brow furrowed. “C’mere, you can sit in my lap until I’m done working.”

“Siobh-”

“Come on.”

With a sigh and dumb smile on your face, you go over and deposit yourself into her lap. She strokes up and down your thigh with one hand, reaching around you with the other. She sets her head on your shoulder and she continues to peer at whatever it is she’s doing.

You lean back into her, strangely content. You turn your head far enough to be able to kiss the side of her temple. “I love you.”

“I love you more,” she murmurs into your shirtsleeve. “You know, I like this.” Her hand shifts from your thigh to the side of your neck, her fingers hunting for a strand of hair to play with. She twists a soft lock around her fingers, pressing a lazy kiss into your shoulder.

"So, how's Weston doing?" you ask with a smirk on your face. You'd met him at one of her work parties, and she swore up and down that she had nothing to do with him. You believe her, obviously. You know she's only interested in you. But you know Weston's into her, and she's oblivious.

"He's been acting... strange lately. I think you scared him," she says, lips brushing over your neck. You laugh. You enjoy teasing her like this. You know she doesn't take it personally. She's just happy she gets to spend time with you, see you laughing, see your face split into that radiant fucking smile of yours.

"Ha! Good." You nuzzle into her, using your hips to burrow further into her lap. You can feel the heat rush through her body, her hand clamping down on your side. It's only a matter of seconds before her attention is off of you, to your dismay. "Shiv," you whine. "Enough work for the night. Please? For me?"

She lets out an airy sigh, pressing a kiss onto the back of your head, into your hair. “I’m sorry. Let’s go home.”

You take her chin and guide her mouth to yours.

She makes a satisfied noise against your lips. She tastes like honey. Honey crafted by Dionysus for one of his wines. She groans deeply when you shift in her lap, unintentionally grinding against her.

You get to your feet, Shiv following after packing up her things. Her computer bag slung over her shoulder and her hand in yours, she drags you through the parking garage. “Do you really have to go to work tomorrow?”

“What kind of question is that?” She pauses to toss her stuff into the back seat of your car while you climb into the driver’s seat. “But no. I’ll stay home. I know you have the day off.” She gives you a peck before you start driving.

God, you love staying home with her. Your life became infinitely better when you moved in with her. You were both so madly in love with one another. Life was in color when you were with you, in black and white when you weren’t.

Before she disappears into the bathroom to begin her nightly routine, she kisses you deeply. You’re sure you can get drunk off of the way she tastes alone. She tastes like pure sunlight. Like liquid gold.

She’s stressed, she has so much on her mind, so much to do. It’s getting late, but you want to do something for her. If you hurry, you think you can have your plan neatly executed before she’s inclined to go to sleep. As fast as you can, you find the spare dough from the last time you did this for her. You quickly roll everything out, shaping the cinnamon buns, and have a glaze and frosting made. You pour honey over the dough so that when you bite into the buns, the honey oozes out, warm and sweet. You dip them in the glaze and you have them in the oven under the half hour.

Shiv strolls out from the bathroom, hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. God, her eyes. You can never look away from her eyes. Her silk pajamas leave most of her skin exposed- her supple thighs, her plush arms. Her hips fill out her shorts in a way that makes you embarrassingly hot and bothered. She's a goddess walking on earth unworthy of her. You want to drop everything you're doing in your life to just do whatever the fuck she asks of you. To spend the rest of your days with her. She's so fucking beautiful and you can't believe she's committed herself to you. You just love her so much. You feel so fucking lucky.

“What’s baking?” she asks, cuddling up to you on the couch. “It smells nice.” She takes your arm and puts it around her. Her cheek presses into your shoulder. She’s blinking back sleep, but she’s holding on. Anything to spend more time with you.

“Your favorite,” you murmur back.

“Are you sure? It’s late,” she says unconvincingly, looking up at you with a dreamy look on her face.

“You should treat yourself, Shivvy,” you tell her. Your expression is one loaded with affection. You hope you two never have to separate.

She kisses you quickly. “I love you.” Soon enough, your timer rings, and you get up to get the honey cinnamon buns out of the oven. She hovers over you as you set the tray on the counter. The steam swirls through the air, twirling between the two of you. Her arms wind around your waist, her head leaning into your neck. “I mean it. You’re the best human being on the planet.”

You kiss the top of her head. “You’re my girl. I’d do anything for you.”

She plants a warm kiss into the crook of your neck before grabbing a plate from the silverware cabinet. “Let’s share one!”

“Oh, uh, you can have it all,” you say quickly.

“No, you too. I can’t eat this all by myself.” She cuts the bun in half, settling both sides on the same plate so you could share. Like you always do.

“Um, I really shouldn’t be having any sugar,” you say meekly. “I’ve been gaining.” You look away, ashamed.

You’ve had issues with your body, with eating, for as long as you can remember. It was embarrassing to admit, but they started and childhood, and no matter how hard you fucking tried, they never went away. Especially as of recently.

Going to the gym, eating healthy. You did it all- or at least you thought it did. But you suppose not, because you were worse off than you started.

“Baby,” Shiv says incredulously. “Gaining? Where? If anything, it’s muscle.” She nudges you with her hip. She can tell when things run deep. This is one of them. “Come on. You can’t actually think you need to lose weight.” When you don’t say anything, she presses on. “Is this a self confidence thing? You’re literally the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen in my life. You’re hips are the sexiest thing-”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, let’s just eat?”

“No, no, I’m solving this issue,” she insists. “I don’t care if you’re a little chubby- which you’re not -because that doesn’t mean anything. You’re healthy, you’re a smoke show, so what’s it fucking matter?”

She drops the knife she was waving around while she spoke, instead coming over to smooth her hands over your jaw and give you a nice, long kiss. She pulls away and presses a fat kiss to the spot just above your belly button.

The two of you eat together, you albeit hesitantly, but she urges you on. You’re glad you have her. She’s everything to you, and you’re everything to her.

When you kiss her the last time for the night, she tastes of what you imagine the rest of your life with her is going to look like.

Honey, pure sunlight, liquid fucking gold.