#sniffles about it frankly

[tiredassmage]

7 and 8 from the character relationship asks for Tyr and Alucren :3 please and thank

The agent demons (and I) love you back so fiercely <3 And genuinely I'm still so very unwell about these two and their.... I still don't even know how to describe them plainly.

So! [2 OCs + their relationship asks!]

7. How often do they see each other? Where do they usually meet?

Depending a little on which exact timeline of the blorbos cinematic universe we're looking at, Tyr and Alucren see the most of each other during the era of the Eternal Alliance. Consistently, however, they get their start as assets pulled into the early reformations of Sith Intelligence after Imperial Intelligence's fall.

During Sith Intelligence, these two operated in more similar circles than they had as Ciphers, but still didn't see each other in a way I'd call 'frequent.' But it's a very important place for them to start - a place where Alucren gets to put a face and a name to the infamous Cipher Nine, and start to learn more about the man behind the mythos. In these few years, Tyr is... technically one of Alucren's supervising officers. The specifics are a little hazy because of Tyr's previous... work, and Sith Intelligence being run by Sith. On record, Tyr still operates largely as an independent field asset reporting to Lana. In slightly less official terms, he runs some operational management and oversight for her in a not entirely dissimilar fashion to Keeper running Operations Division for Imperial Intelligence. And not dissimilar to how Tyr ended up with most of his crew on the Phantom, a lot of his early work with Alucren is because he seems able to "handle" Alucren's... attitude with him. They go through a bit of a whole thing where Alucren is projecting a lot of his own insecurities (and he'd hate that I'd call him out [by calling them what they are]) and pressures he feels on Tyr through what he thinks he was as Cipher Nine.

And the reason these two stick around each other is because Tyr is... rather patient about being such a target, if you will. True, there's days he would've rather threatened to flush the man out of an airlock for one more smart comment, but Tyr's also usually quite perceptive about the source of people's issues, and Alucren's are... a bit deep, really. He's liable to get himself hurt digging deeper if someone doesn't risk getting lunged at trying to convince him he can stop digging.

The version(s) of events where these two see the most of each other though are probably those involving Alucren's (eventual) husband Taizi (@ho1ythunder) involved in the Alliance, if not at the head of it. Alucren and Tyr have interesting opposites in how the react initially to the war with Zakuul, in that Tyr is always one of the first to see the Alliance beginning to form before its even named such, and Alucren is... much slower to trust such a change is possible. After the incident with Marr's fleet, Alucren returns to Dromund Kaas, ostensibly to be stationed closer to home to check in on his three elder sisters in the wake of their parents' passing, but also very much because Alucren is lost in a galaxy that has turned the usual Imperial ways of life upside down and inside out. Eventually, Tyr does try to seek him out to offer him a place in the attempted rescue of the Outlander from Zakuul, but Alucren balks - for various reasons that are... perhaps for a different post diving into the specifics of his and Taizi's relationship instead, lol. In the short of it though, the five year gap of KOTFE for Alucren is some of the worst years of his life - and an example of just how his loyalties and devotions can lead him astray and make him give up things he would've claimed non-negotiable.

Which is important because Tyr is part of a very instrumental rebuilding then during the time of the Alliance. Tyr checks up on him fairly frequently when Alucren first joins the Alliance and helps him find a place to fit into this new order. Again, they frequently end up working together, so thus often meet up in the halls and offices of the Alliance's military and intelligence operations, but, eventually, they can also frequently be found paired off visiting the Alliance cantina after a long day (or several long days) of work.

8. How do they communicate with each other? Are there any recurring phrases or gestures unique to their relationship?

There's a few things they do when talking with or about each other that I do find a little interesting and I really should write more with them to get to better express it. Partially because of their relationship's origins in a more professional sense and largely because of Alucren's deeply-instilled sense of Imperial social rank, they'll commonly address each other by last name, rather than their first names. Tyr is a bit of his opposite in this sense in that he tends to prefer first names - on a basis of trying to get away from the distance and dehumanization that can come from one selling their life to an intelligence career, but he mostly adapts to surnames between the two of them for Alucren's comfort. In return, Alucren slowly starts to unravel more of what's important to Tyr throughout the course of their relationship, and one of those things is what his service in Imperial Intelligence meant to him. So, Alucren will still sometimes trade his last name for calling him Nine, and Tyr will, in return, swap to Eleven for Alucren - particularly if they're discussing anything that might bring up memories of Imperial Intelligence - tugging on that old thread that's shared between them, despite their very different experiences of Intelligence when it was active.

So, I suppose I should arguably write far more posts with them referring to them as Deckard and Ellery, lol; sometimes its a bit odd to use their first names when it's used so sparingly between them.

As far as terms of endearment go, on another hand, for when those professional and personal lines blur they've started to share a preference for calling each other love and darling.

17. Are they keeping a secret together? How do they feel about that?

Not... exactly. While Alucren comes to understand a fair bit more about Tyr over the years, and his old semi-resentment for the man and what he represented (in Alucren's vision of him, at least) turn into respect, admiration, and even affection, there's a lot of... specifics about what went down with Imperial Intelligence that they don't ever really discuss, including Tyr's stint as a double agent for the SIS - or any lingering Republic sympathies, for that matter. After all they endure through their time in the Alliance together and after, I think it would come as less of a surprise than it may have once been, if it ever came to specific light, but... generally, they're less hiding something specific for one another as they are... slowly building the kind of companionship that makes them willing to re-evaluate where they stand, and what lengths they're willing to go to for certain beliefs.

There are days, I think, where Alucren might've once shot the man without a second thought if certain things had come to light. Now though..? Now most of those things are more symbolic of the kind of man he's learned Tyr is - and that's loyal, and dedicated, and not someone to do things by halves, nor for any reason less than his whole-hearted belief that it's the best path forward he can take for himself and those he cares about.

If anything, they won't say it, but... they'd be willing to risk their lives for one another. And if Tyr's loyalty is like a loaded gun, then Alucren's is as a lit Molotov Cocktail at an already raging town fire. Very little would make Tyr willing to ask Alucren to throw away "what he's worked for" in order to protect him, and there's a time where such a cost would've made Alucren hesitate, at least, to come to his aid, but... not so much anymore. Because perhaps Deckard's the better man of the two of them, after all, and perhaps he deserves a quieter, softer end than some of the ones he knows the man has spent most of his life preparing to accept, should they come knocking.

18. Do they view their relationship as temporary or permanent?

By now..? Probably permanent in the sense that they'll never be who they were before again, and they don't have to be - they wouldn't want to be, even.

But I also think the two of them come to understand quite well that there's... very few versions of the galaxy as it stands where they are side by side through the rest of their days. And they're willing to walk away from each other in pursuit of their own and each other's happiness - not because they don't both want it for another, but because what fulfills that 'happiness' for both of them is... usually different. It will take them, likely, to different places, ask of them to do different things.

Deckard will never feel at ease under Imperial banners again, for as long as he's got left to live. He'd have a hard time swallowing ever working plainly for the Sith Empire ever again, and keeping up the game of double agent is likely to kill him faster if he plays it much longer.

Ellery, on the other hand, for all of his experiences, for what he... sort of knows it took from Tyr, will most likely always consider, to some extent, Dromund Kaas to be home. The odds are that he would return home, more likely than not.

There are... some versions of events where they walk away from all of it together, in the end, in a choice that... neither of those things are what either of them truly needs to be happy, to heal from the hands life dealt them. But by then I think they already both knew the alternative was an option, and they were willing to accept that.

They both deserved the kindness of that much in the end, didn't they?

19. Are they satisfied with their relationship? Do they wish they were closer/more distant?

It's... one hell of a journey to get there, lol, but in the end? Yes, I think they are. There are definitely times where I think they wished they were closer - where one or the other wished the other wouldn't have pushed them away so much. There's a fair few instances where Alucren wishes he wouldn't have balked so consistently at Tyr trying to offer him a hand, but it was all a necessary part of the journey, really. Alucren had a lot he needed to learn about himself to better look after himself, be kinder with himself, and Tyr would call it worth it, in the end, to have endured the several setbacks and tension over the years. Now, if Alucren could more successfully repay the favor by convincing Deckard to quit burning the candle from both ends so much, they might even make it out of this whole deal cutting even. ;P [Better friends they may have become, but someone's still gotta give Deckard a hard time. And that person is still Alucren.]

[thatfandomslut]

Princess

Regina George x Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Trigger Warnings: homophobia, physical bullying that results in injury, fluffy ending

Frankly this isn't my favorite fic I've written but I have tried my very best.

Request:

HEYYY omggg can i request ANYTHING with regina pls i dont care what it is:3 thank you!!

Synopsis:

After someone hurts the reader, Regina will make sure everyone knows not to hurt her princess.

Mean Girls (2024) requests are open.

Regina George was the Queen Bee at North Shore High. She was confident, brilliant, and ambitious. Regina could bring the entire school to their knees if she wanted. Only one person rivaled Regina George in popularity, and that was the only person Regina had a soft spot for. (Y/n) (L/n) was proclaimed Regina's princess by none other than Regina herself. On her own, (Y/n) didn't feel special, but Regina ensured she knew she was. While Regina lived for the popularity, (Y/n) could care less, but it was nice not to get bullied by the jock branch of the school's social structure.

While Gretchen Wieners was Regina's right-hand woman, as she deemed herself to be, (Y/n) could always be found on Regina's side. Regina was someone who was motivated by words of affirmation and physical touch. So, while she was touching (Y/n) in some way, whether their knees were touching or her hand was placed delicately on (Y/n)'s thigh, she reveled in the compliments she received from her girlfriend. Nothing boosted Regina's ego more than the love of her life, her princess, flirting with her shamelessly at the lunch table, not caring if Gretchen, Cady, or Karen heard.

However, today (Y/n) wasn't at the lunch table, in her usual spot. She tended to have everything ready for Regina by the time she reached the cafeteria. This ensured a few minutes alone as the other Plastics were forced to wait in line while (Y/n) and Regina talked about whatever they wanted without the listening ears of the other girls. Regina's brows furrowed as she looked around and didn't see the girl still. "Maybe she's still in class," Gretchen offered, earning a glare from Regina who sent a message to (Y/n), wondering where she was. Perhaps Gretchen was right though. As time passed, Regina grew impatient and agitated over (Y/n)'s absence.

After all, Regina knew that (Y/n) was present that day. They had walked to their homeroom class and their shared first period together. Tapping her fingers on the table, she was becoming more restless. "I'm going to go find her," Regina stated, standing up to leave. The girls went to follow her, but Regina stopped them. She wanted to go alone, and she didn't need Gretchen's constant pestering during their search. Quite frankly, she was also slightly annoyed over the fact that (Y/n) hadn't answered her text message.

As she passed one of the stairwells, Regina heard sniffling causing her to take a step back to see if it was who she thought it was. "Princess," her voice echoed the area, and (Y/n) looked up. Regina's previous annoyance was now abandoned as she saw the puffy lip and bruising eye adorning her girlfriend's face. Making her way over, Regina took (Y/n)'s chin into her feeling delicately as she wiped away some of the driving blood under her busted lip. "Who did this?" Her voice sounded leveled and cold. (Y/n) wiped a tear from her good eye, nervous to touch her other one since it was still stinging. Noticing this, Regina brushed a gentle finger to help rid the girl of her tears.

(Y/n) was led to the bathroom as Regina cleaned her face up. Only (Y/n) was allowed to be exposed to how gentle she could be. "You still haven't answered me, princess," Regina whispered, examining her face, and searching to make sure there was nothing she missed. "You felt like they had the right to hurt you? I need to know so I can burn them to the ground." For someone who was threatening (Y/n)'s bully, she only sounded calm and caring towards the girl in front of her. (Y/n) knew deep down that she also wasn't going to keep it from Regina. She just didn't want to be a snitch or make things worse. But maybe things were already worse at this point. After all, Regina had the sweetest tone in her voice but the most dangerous fire (Y/n) had ever seen in her eyes.

(Y/n) swallowed thickly wincing slightly when she licked her lip. She had forgotten how swollen and sore it was. "Marianne Hayes," she told Regina quietly, feeling Regina's fingers intertwine with (Y/n)'s. Regina's brow rose, wanting to hear everything that had happened. "She said I was sinning, being with a girl as she walked by me in the hall. So, I told her to say it to my face. That's when she turned and punched me. She got another punch in before her friend pulled her off. She reminded them that I was your girlfriend. Marianne made sure to point out that I was defenseless without you before she left, too. Which I'm not! The punch just caught me off guard and… I don't know. She always says things like that to me." (Y/n) expressed, sighing softly as the bell rang. They were supposed to be going to class, but neither of them moved.

(Y/n)'s words were also a revelation to Regina. Nodding slowly, she listened intently. "What do you mean she always says things like that to you? Why didn't you tell me she was talking shit to you?" Regina questioned. The quirk in her brow never left her face as she stared at her girlfriend with care and worry.

"I guess I never felt like it was important to bring up." (Y/n) muttered, looking away. A clear indication she was lying. There was more, and Regina squeezed her hands comfortingly. (Y/n) could be honest with her. She'd always listen to anything and everything that she had to say. "Okay, I suppose I felt like… If I didn't handle this, she'd be right, That I was just your little dog who couldn't defend myself. I wanted to prove that, yes, I'm your girlfriend, and yes, I'm proud, but… I can also defend myself. When I finally had the opportunity, she punched me."

Regina kissed her forehead in understanding. "You are not my dog. You are so much more than whatever the fuck Marianne, of all people, thinks of you. I will make sure she burns to the ground. You are my girlfriend, princess, and I know that you think you need to do things on your own, but I'm here for you." Regina cupped (Y/n)'s cheek gently. For anyone else in the school, seeing Regina this caring and soft was strange. But for (Y/n), this was her girlfriend. She was always this soft with her. "Now, come on. We're going to my house and we are going to watch a dumb romcom." (Y/n) smiled at this, allowing Regina to lead her out of the school, thankful to spend the rest of the day cuddled up to the blonde with She's All That playing on her wide-screen TV.

[confessedlyfannish]

DP x DC Writing Prompt #9

"Are you sure about this?" J'onn asks, reading the discontent amongst the Kents. Clark and Lois each have a hand on their teenage son's shoulders, who several weeks prior was aged ten years old.

"We're sure," Clark says. He is not, nor is his wife. But his son is, who lays his hand on his mother's and squeezes. It is that surety that J'onn honors as he delves into the young (but not as young as he should be) man's mind.

The memories are hard to find but not gone, hidden behind what Jon can only see manifested as a glowing green wall. When he raises a tentative hand, the shield sparks green, but does no harm. Pushing through is like wading through the consistency of jello, which he finds an overall unpleasant experience. But he is unharmed as he passes through.

Before J'onn can sort through the memories he is all but sucked into the one at the forefront, where a Jon most similar in visage to the one recently returned perches on the edge of a building. Beside him lies a burger, partially unwrapped though uneaten, and a small soda.

As the memory builds out a sun sets on a small suburban town, and a muscled thigh knocks into Jon's, an older man with a shock of white hair and eyes the same light and color as the shield formed around these memories appearing. He's tall even sitting, likely about as tall as Superman, and looks to be in his thirties. A full body suit comprised of black and silver accents stretches across broad shoulders, a stylized D on his chest. He knocks his thigh into Jon's again.

"You said I couldn't go back," Jon says quietly.

"I lied," the man says lightly.

"You're lying now," Jon says, glaring at him. "I can hear your heart."

"Nice try, kiddo, I don't have a heart in this form," the man says, reaching a hand out, presumably to ruffle his hair. Jon dodges.

"I know you're lying. You would've told me. You would've helped me get home."

"Jon--"

"You're protecting Clockwork, aren't you?" Jon demands, eyes beginning to burn red. "That old coot decided it wasn't enough to play with you, he had to play with me too."

The man slaps a hand over Jon's eyes. "Breathe, like we practiced," he instructs firmly. Steam rises from where his palm meets Jon's eyes, but if it hurts he shows no indication. "In, 2, 3. Out, 2, 3."

Jon whimpers but heaves a breath, and the burst of red light dies down from between the man's fingers. His hand moves down to Jon's shoulder.

"I can't pretend to understand Clockwork's decisions," the man says, as tears begin to pool in Jon's eyes. "Frankly, I don't want to. I suspect they are hard decisions to make, sometimes."

"I don't get why you defend him," Jon says. "Dumbledore acting bastard."

"Language," the man says, lightly bopping him on the head. J'onn notes the boy actually winces, as if the blow hurts.

"I am upset with him, I hope you know that," the man continues. "But at the end of the day I'm also grateful. Because I got to meet you." He hooks an arm around Jon's shoulders, pulling him in. "And now you'll get to see your family again. And Sally, Arnold, and Damian!"

Jon sniffles, rubbing roughly at his face. He leans into the man's bicep. A trusted adult figure, then. One he's described his life to. A life, J'onn is sad to note, he appears to have lived for the past six years, as opposed to a sudden shift in appearance. Jon's next question all but confirm it: "Can I really go back? It's been so long. They'll be all grown up."

"Hey, of course you can," the man says, rubbing his shoulder. "I'm sure they've missed you so much. They'll be so happy to see you again."

Jon starts to smile. "I'm going home."

"You're going home!" The man laughs, shaking him.

"I can finally eat some decent barbecue again!"

"Hey!" the man protests, "The smoker blew up one time!"

Jon continues, beginning to get excited. "And Ma will make her jalapeño cornbread! I never could get it right, I can't wait for you to try it!"

J'onn notes the older man's smile fading, eyes growing sad.

"And Damian will definitely want to spar and oh, oh! With you on our side we can totally prank Batman! I bet Alfred will even help! And Mom gives the best hugs, Pops comes really close but Mom will be really excited to meet you, everyone will."

"Jon," The man says.

"I knew you'd be worried about it, but they'll want to meet you," Jon says, clocking his expression. "They'll be grateful. You, you helped me. You kept me safe and taught me how to be Superman. They'll love you, I promise."

"Jon, I can't go with you," the man says gently.

"I'm not saying you stay, but you can visit! I'm sure the Justice League can figure out a way to maintain a portal, they're super used to all that multiverse stuff. Once they have the coordinates, you can stop by whenever!"

"I can't go through the portal, Jon," the man says. "To other worlds, I'm a god. And gods can't interfere. The only reason I can continue to live here is because this is the world of my origin."

Jon gapes at him. "But--but,"

"You're going to see your Mom and Dad again," the man says. "And your brother, and grandparents."

"I can come here, then," Jon says desperately, pushing his way out of the man's arms. The man is already shaking his head. "I can!"

"You can't."

"Why, because Clockwork says so? He's a liar!"

"Because multiverse travel is never a good idea. If you got trapped here again--"

"I wouldn't,"

"You belong with your family,"

"You're my family!" Jon cries. The man freezes. "You, and Sam, and Jazz, and Tucker and Val and Ellie and Pops and Mads, you're all my family! I can't just leave you, I won't!"

"Oh kiddo," The man says, eyes wet. "I love you too. We all do."

"So I'll stay," Jon says decisively. "For all we know my world is a wasteland. Gramps wasn't exactly right in the head when I left. It's better to stay here."

J'onn notes a green vine unwinding from a nearby trellis. It slides down the eave towards the pair.

"You don't mean that," the man is saying.

"I'm sixteen. I can make my own decisions. I'm staying."

The man cups Jon's face. "Your parents did not have a choice in losing you. I'm willing to bet they're devastated. Because I'd be devastated, losing a kid as great as you."

"Maybe they're not even there," Jon says, but the words are half-hearted, and it clearly hurts him to say them.

"I know I seem like a pushover, but if I thought Clockwork was sending you back to anything less than your loving family, I'd destroy him first. And he knows that. They're going to be there, I promise."

"I don't want to go," Jon says. Behind him, the vine rises from the eave of its own will, poised like a cobra enchanted by a snark charmer.

"I know," the man says, eyes drifting to the vine. "I'm so sorry, Jon."

"For what?" Jon asks, as the vine attaches itself to the nape of his neck. His eyes roll back as he collapses into the man's arms. The man hugs him tighter than is strictly necessary.

J'onn expects the memory to now end, alongside Jon's consciousness. To his curiosity, it does not.

"For what it's worth," a young woman spits bitterly, vines supporting her weight as she slips over the side of the roof. "I still think this is horrible." Her eyes are red and miserable.

"Seriously, team punching Dumbledore in the face," A young black man says, appearing in the air supported by a woman almost identical in appearance to the man holding Jon, down to the suit colors. They land on the rooftop.

"Are you sure about this," the dark haired woman with powers over plants asks. "Because to be honest, Danny, I'm five seconds away from punching you in the face."

"Jazz won't speak to you for months," the girl, likely his sister, points out.

"Make it a year," the man says, crossing his arms.

The man, Danny, ignores them all. He cards a hand through Jon's hair. "He'll retain the experience, but not the memories?"

"Yes, he'll be a perfect little superhero, just as you taught him," the woman says, vines twisting agitatedly around her, wrapping around her thigh, wrists and neck almost punishingly.

"Sam," the man says. "He needs to go home. All of you know that."

"He doesn't have to forget us to do so!" the sister bursts, eyes flashing green.

"Remembering would be a torment," Danny says. "He'll know he was loved. That's enough."

"Danny," the plant woman says, sitting beside them both. She puts a gentle hand on his, both on Jon's back. "This is just a different torment."

"And if someone finds out?" Danny asks. He has been patient amidst their scorn, but now a tiny edge ekes into his voice. "A god's child, unprotected? Threatened? He would never stop looking for a way back, and being vocal about it could get him killed."

The others are silent.

"He'll be home. He'll be happy," Danny says. More powerful than a prayer. A directive. He raises his head past the child slumbering in his lap, past them all, face hardening, and says to J'onn: "And you will say nothing."

J'onn takes a step back, fear so thick he could choke on it flooding his very being. Thismanwillkillhim, thismanwillkillhim.

This man will reach through dimensions and kill him.

"Now, get the fuck out of my kid's head," Danny snarls. J'onn is pushed back with enough force he enters his own mind in a vicious whirl that leaves him physically on the floor, gasping.

"I'm sorry," he says as Superman rushes to lift him, and he's not sure who he's apologizing to. Green eyes will pierce his dreams. Vines will crush his throat in his nightmares, screaming silence, silence.

You will say nothing.

"I'm sorry," J'onn says, politely pushing Clark's hands away as he rises. He's already beginning to calm, because he understands. Those are consequences he will not face. He will do as directed. He looks at Jon Kent, bewildered but unharmed, clutching his mother's hand.

J'onn reaches down and dusts at his pants. "I'm sorry," he says evenly, ready to spin his tale. Perhaps the Kents will continue to seek their answers. Perhaps not. He will stay out of it either way. He has been warned.

You were loved by gods. And to keep you safe, they would quiet us all.

Part Two

[purple-babygirl]

don't call me daddy III

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x little!f!reader

Word count: 3,840

Summary : In a world where littles are openly themselves, they volunteer to help and be helped by willing caregivers. In spite of himself, Bucky finds himself stuck with one and to keep the nagging away, he has to learn how to be around her with everything that that entails.

Warnings: Bucky is less mean, age regression, period blood, intrusive thoughts, crying, Bucky's PTSD & nightmares.

A/N: Here you go, beauties💜 Thank you for your patience, please enjoy xx💜tell me your ideas about how we should proceed with these two if you have any💜

~

She shifted again on the couch, the discomfort in her abdomen turning more and more into a sharp pain by the minute.

Sitting up to rub sleep out of her eyes so she could go to the bathroom, she felt the dampness in her underwear and quickly realized what was happening.

She didn’t need to go to the bathroom; it was something else.

Oh, no.

It was her period, and it has made a huge mess on her clothes and possibly the leather couch. Bucky’s leather couch.

He was going to be so mad at her.

Unless she got up before he came home and cleaned everything up, right?

She took a deep breath, leaving the couch to look for pads in her bag, only to find nothing.

She forgot to pack her pads? Oh, no! What was she going to do now?

She was in so much pain and she was literally bleeding. She didn’t know if she should change first, clean up first or try to find painkillers first.

It was too much.

But, of course, as if all of this wasn’t enough, her little mind closed up and she was standing in the middle of the room, crying, when she heard his key turn.

“Bucky,” she called out, panicked and nervous.

She could see the shock on Bucky’s face, but given his previous behavior, her small mind translated it as anger; anger directed at her, “I had an accident.”

“What happened?!” Bucky dropped his jacket on the floor and ran to her, holding her by the shoulders, checking for wounds on her face.

“I—” she hiccupped, clearly scared of him again, she didn’t realize he wasn’t angry at her, but rather scared himself.

“What is it?” He asked again, shaking her shoulders before frantically searching her arms and hands.

“Period,” she sobbed, her voice quavering.

She felt so bashful, but also annoyed because she didn’t want to want or need Bucky’s help. She wanted to give him the space he’s wanted ever since he’s gotten her.

She didn’t want to tell him. She wanted to help herself.

“What?” Bucky genuinely had no idea what she was talking about.

“It’s that time of the month. Period.” She bit her lip, “I need pads.”

“So you’re not hurt?”

She looked at him with confusion for a second before shaking her head.

She heard Bucky mumble something that sounded like thank god as he hung his head down.

“Well…Okay, do you wanna get dressed?” He suggested with a sigh, letting her arms go.

“I can’t go anywhere like this,” she cried more, embarrassed at her state. She couldn’t believe she forgot her pads back in her room at the institution.

“Okay, okay, I’ll go!” Bucky said quickly, surprising her and himself by bringing a hand to her cheek.

She closed her eyes in fear, but whatever harshness she was anticipating never came.

Bucky’s thumb stuttered as it wiped away her tears, “I’ll get them.”

“Really?” She sniffled, slowly opening her eyes.

“Yes, go change into something clean and come back to tell me what pads… look like?”

Bucky has never done this before and he frankly had no idea how he was going to do shopping for period pads.

She nodded, hurrying to the bathroom with her bag.

She thought she’d use toilet paper as a temporary substitute until Bucky’s gotten her the pads in order not to ruin anymore clothes.

She lined her underwear with the tissues as best as she could before collecting her bloodied clothes in hand and opening the door.

“I— ehm— could you please start the washing machine for me?” she timidly asked, holding her stained clothes behind her back.

“Why?!”

“I wanna clean my clothes.” She swallowed, shifting on her feet uncomfortably.

She remembered well enough that ice cubes on bloodied clothes made it easier for the stains to come out. Maybe she should tell him about that.

“Leave that for now. I’ll do it.” Bucky waived his hand, wanting to go and get her what she needed.

He couldn’t imagine what periods were like for women, and in her state? He felt like she shouldn’t be going through this at all.

“But the blood—”

“It’s okay. Leave them on top of the hamper.”

She wordlessly did as told before coming back out, rubbing her tummy as discreetly as possible.

“Are you in pain?” Bucky asked, moving to sit down.

She nodded quietly before shouting, “no! Don’t sit there!”

“Why not?!” Bucky frowned and she grimaced before grabbing a couple of tissues.

She wiped the stained couch a couple of times before running with the tissues to the trash.

“Oh.” Bucky swallowed as she ran to wash her hands.

He didn’t think he’s ever been in a similar situation in his life and if he has, he certainly didn’t remember. But Bucky knew he wasn’t disgusted; only worried for her.

He couldn’t remember the last time he was worried about someone and it made him uneasy.

As she dried her hands, she was dreading leaving the bathroom because she didn’t want to hear Bucky’s scolding about how she’s gotten his couch dirty.

Tiptoeing back into the living room, she had her hands back on her sides, desperately rubbing where her ovaries were to ease the piercing pain.

“I’ll get you some painkillers as well.” Bucky nodded, his frown never leaving his face.

He probably didn’t know, but his normal face as well as his intense stare were screaming I will kill you and it didn’t help her.

“Thank you.” She bit her lip again, eyes casted down.

“Here.” Bucky grabbed his jacket from the floor, hand fiddling with the pocket, “eat this.” Bucky brought a chocolate bar out of his jacket’s pocket, “I got it for you last night but you were asleep.”

“How did you know I was getting my period this morning?” she tilted her head innocently.

“I didn’t. I— I was gonna give it to you to—” Bucky stuttered.

To say I’m sorry

“To say good job during the visit yesterday,” Bucky sighed, the lies heavy on his unaccustomed tongue.

She took the chocolate without a word.

He was manipulating her again, wasn’t he? Probably just trying to build credit for the next visit.

“Mrs. Morrison isn’t coming the rest of the visits this month. She’s coming next month,” she informed him, disappointment evident in her tone, before leaving the chocolate bar on the coffee table.

I know, he wanted to say, but he didn’t want her to know he listened in on their conversation.

Bucky merely nodded, trying not to show dejection.

“Let me grab a pen so you could tell me what you need.” He got his new notebook out of his back pocket and sat down next to her.

“Can’t we just ask for it to be delivered?” She suggested, wanting to get away from receiving Bucky’s help, especially with something so private.

“Well, I’m offering to get them, aren’t I?” Bucky snapped, slightly losing his patience again.

He was internally mad he had to lie. Why couldn’t he just say he was sorry? And why was he feeling like he needed to protect her against the pain of this monstrous monthly visitor?

Her eyes teared up again as she stood up and started giving him the details about the brand and type of pad she used without an extra word.

Wow, she didn’t even want to sit next to him now.

Bucky understood, but he wished things weren’t the way they were. He wished he wasn’t the way he was.

Only now did he realize, she’s been a literal saint to him all along and he was all but the most ungrateful person she could’ve ever crossed paths with.

~

At the store, Bucky stood in the middle of the long aisle with his notebook in hand on the verge of crying because what was all these brands? Why did you need so many colours? And how did any of those have wings?

He needed to get back to her with those pads as soon as possible but he couldn’t because he didn’t know which was which.

She’d told him the ones she used had a pink package, but there were at least 4 groups of those coloured pink, different shades too.

Two women noticed Bucky’s dilemma and pushed forward to where he stood.

Oh shit, he looked creepy, didn’t he?

“Can we help you?” One woman asked with a smile as she stopped her cart by Bucky’s.

“No— yes. I don’t know.” Bucky shook his head sheepishly as his cheeks grew red.

He's never done this before. He never thought he would either.

He didn’t want people to think he was a pervert, but he couldn’t leave without bringing her home those pads.

“For your girl?”

“Yes!”

Well, that was a fast yes.

The blonde woman looked at Bucky weird before laughing to the brunette next to her.

“First time, huh?”

Bucky nodded, blushing deeper.

“What did she tell you?” The brunette asked knowingly, not wanting to embarrass him more.

“Here, I wrote it down.” Bucky showed them the page where he had the description for the pads scribbled down haphazardly.

“Aww that’s so sweet!” The blonde woman put a hand on her heart, making Bucky smile awkwardly.

“We’ve been married two years and she’s never took down notes of my words!” She gently elbowed her wife.

“I don’t need to because I know what you want by heart!” The brunette defended before going to look at the pad described in Bucky’s notes.

“True,” the blonde standing with Bucky giggled, “your girl is gonna appreciate this very much.” She nodded with a smile.

Bucky faked another polite smile in reply.

Ah, if you only knew…

“Here, that’s the one you’re looking for.” The brunette handed Bucky two baby pink packages, “just in case.”

“Thank you so much!” Bucky was eternally grateful for the couple for saving him from going in an endless journey down that aisle.

“You’re welcome,” the brunette sang, pushing her cart away with her wife.

“Don’t forget to get her some ice cream!” The blonde shouted to Bucky.

 Bucky saluted with a chuckle, walking with purpose to find the ice cream fridges.

Enough stalling. Today was the day he made everything right. He was going to apologize even if the words killed him.

~

“Thank you.” She hastily grabbed the pads and a clean underwear and ran shyly to the bathroom to put them to use.

Bucky just changed his clothes and waited outside so he could ask her what she wanted to eat and maybe properly apologize this time.

He waited and he waited and there was nothing but silence.

She wasn’t coming out.

Now, he didn’t know how much time it took for girls to use those things, but he felt like she’s taken enough time.

Could she be in trouble? Was she too mad at him to leave the bathroom?

“Hey, everything okay in there?” Bucky knocked on the door, unknowingly making her drop the pad as she jumped.

“Y—yes!”

She was trying hard to remember the steps to put on the pad, but she kept messing it up, her mind just too little to function properly.

“Are you sure?” Bucky called for her again.

“No.” She opened the door with tears in her eyes because she was about to ask for Bucky’s help for the millionth time when she wasn’t supposed to; didn’t want to.

“What is it?” Bucky asked, his voice unconsciously caring and worried.

“I don’t remember how big me puts it on and the pain won’t go away and my underwear is all messy again,” she sobbed without breathing, covering her face with her hands when she was finished.

“Okay, okay, let me help,” Bucky suggested, feeling dumber than ever because he had no idea how to do this either, but he felt so bad for her.

“Mr. Barnes is a man. Men don’t get periods,” she whimpered.

So she was back to calling him Mr. Barnes… good job, Buck.

“We’ll look it up online. Sam showed me how before.” Bucky found himself reassuring her as he guided her out of the bathroom and back to the couch.

“It’s here.” She pointed to the drawings on the side of the package describing how to stick the pad on one’s underwear, “but I still can’t do it.” She shrugged helplessly, crying more.

“Oh, okay!” Bucky took a look at the package, trying to understand what to do, “I can do it. Let’s get you something to eat so you can take the painkillers first.”

Wait what? He wasn’t going to let her ‘figure it out’ and feed herself?

She nodded dumbly as Bucky led her to the couch.

He heated up some pizza from the box he brought last night and got himself a piece too when his stomach started making sounds at the smell.

“Here.” Bucky set her plate in her lap and his on the coffee table.

She raised her underwear to him and he discreetly took it from her, trying to avoid being inappropriate.

Was this the first time he was consciously holding a female undergarment in seventy years? Yes. Yes, it was.

He attempted to follow the steps on the packaging as he removed the thin paper on the pad, revealing the sticky side of it.

He pressed the pad on the inside of the underwear and stared at it hesitantly, “now what does that paper cover?” He removed the shorter paper, revealing two more sticky parts.

“Wait, is this side supposed to stick to your body?!” Bucky asked, horrified at the idea.

“No.” She shook her head.

“Are you sure?” Bucky asked, trying to find a use for the upper sticky part of the pad.

She nodded without a doubt because she knew that nothing was supposed to stick on her skin.

“I think…” she started, gaining his attention.

“Hmm?” Bucky looked at her for clues before bringing his gaze back to the underwear, determined to do it right.

“I think it’s upside down…” Her small voice stated cautiously, fearing Bucky’s anger.

“Huh.” Bucky examined the underwear with an open mouth.

After another half hour, the pad had lost its stickiness and was no longer useable.

She’d finished eating both her slices of stale pizza and took her painkillers, but Bucky was still going at it.

As she sat down looking at how determined Bucky was to help, she didn’t understand.

He was probably just feeling bad because she was bleeding, right? That must’ve been it because like he had told her, it was impossible that he’d suddenly want to be around her.

She looked at his plate and saw his food untouched. He didn’t eat a bite, too focused on the pad project.

She was mad at him and didn’t want to talk to him, but she felt really bad. Maybe she could help him without talking to him?

Without thinking too much about it, her hand was grabbing Bucky’s slice, raising the tip to his mouth so he could eat.

Bucky temporarily looked up from the underwear in his hands, speechless at her gesture.

She looked away, not wanting to meet his beautiful eyes because she was ‘mad’ at him.

Bucky bit back a smile, quietly taking a bite, “thank you.”

She nodded indifferently, head still turned away, hiding her own smile.

It was the first time Bucky has ever thanked her since they’ve been together.

But that didn’t really matter because Bucky still didn’t want her help, right? She was just doing this because he was helping her with her pad. Or at least that was what she was telling herself.

When Bucky was finished with his pizza, she took the empty plates and walked to put them down in the sink.

All of a sudden and before she could hold it in, a fart has escaped her and exploded aloud in the quiet room.

Bucky stopped trying with the pads and just stared at her silently for a second.

And then she was choking up again.

“Why are you crying now?” Bucky shook his head, not wanting her to cry, but she took it for frustration.

“Because it’s embarrassing and yucky,” she sobbed, covering her hot face with her hands as she plopped down on the couch.

“It’s not embarrassing or yucky. It’s human,” Bucky told her, leaving the underwear for a second to touch her hands.

“Mr. Barnes is not mad at me?” She sniffled, allowing Bucky to hold her hand.

“No.” He rubbed the tears off of her palms before handing her a tissue for her face.

“Do you think I’m disgusting?”

“No,” Bucky chuckled, amused that that would be her concern as she sat there literally oozing blood.

“Really?”

“Did you think I was disgusting when I was sweaty fresh out of a nightmare and you hugged me?”

“No,” she answered without hesitation.

Bucky remained still for a second, just cherishing her for everything he’s never noticed before, “it’s like that, too. I’m not disgusted.”

“Thank you, Mr. Barnes.” She smiled gratefully.

It was a really short smile that Bucky could’ve easily missed it.

But he understood. He’d take what he could get. He had plenty to make up for.

“I’ll just look it up.” Bucky shook his head finally giving up on the pad project, resorting to his phone for help from YouTube.

Women’s lives were hard.

~

Ten more minutes and Bucky was enthusiastically yelling, “Yes! I did it!” while raising a feminine piece of underwear in the air.

Too soon, however, his excitement was deflated when he saw that her reaction and expression didn’t match his.

All she did was mutter a polite thank you, Mr. Barnes as she took her fixed underwear and went to the bathroom to change.

He knew why and he knew he shouldn’t expect anything less.

She’s let him off the hook many times and he couldn’t expect her to do it forever.

No matter how kind or innocent, she was only human.

Inside the bathroom, she was thankful for Bucky and proud he’s managed to do something that she was sure he’s never done before, but her feelings were still hurt.

Bucky made her feel unwanted again after she had almost forgotten what that was like. He made her feel like she could never be loved for all that she was, or exactly as she was.

She didn’t understand him. She didn’t know when he hated her and when he didn’t. She didn’t know if he was nice or mean.

And she hated these games. They confused her too much and that was the last thing she needed, especially while little.

And even if she made everything okay again and let this, too, go. It wasn’t what Bucky wanted. She couldn’t keep ignoring his wishes forever.

And so their night continued in silent TV watching and more cold pizza consumption; and instead of being familiar, the quietness was scary to Bucky.

The way she looked so blue gnawed at his insides because he knew he was the cause of it.

She didn’t try to poke at him, made sure she didn’t accidently touch him and only spoke when necessary and she called him Mr. Barnes all over again.

Is this what it would’ve been like had she conformed to his rules from day one?

So what? Why was he upset about that now? Wasn’t that how he’s been ever since he came back to himself? Why wasn’t it comfortable anymore? Silence and solitude were what he wanted, right?

Bucky wanted to talk to her before bed, to hopefully end this agony, but she quickly gave him her back after swallowing her painkiller.

“Listen—” Bucky started, gaining her attention.

She looked like she knew what he was going to say and so she did something that goes against everything polite she’s ever learnt; she cut Bucky off.

“I’m sorry about ruining Mr. Barnes’ couch. It won’t happen again,” she apologized first.

Couch? He wasn’t worried about some leather couch!

“That’s not—”

“I’m also sorry about making Mr. Barnes go shopping for me when I promised I won’t annoy him no more. I promise not to do that again.”

“It’s—”

“And I’m sorry for interrupting just now.” She bit her lip, unable to not apologize for something that she knew was wrong.

Bucky stayed silent, however, so she assumed she’d covered what he wanted to reprimand her about.

“Good night, Mr. Barnes.” She gave him her back again, pretending to have instantly fallen asleep.

With a sigh, Bucky went to his makeshift bed as well, swearing that tomorrow morning was apology time. It was final.

~

She wanted to be strong, but she just couldn’t bear Bucky’s thrashing and his suffering any longer.

She wished she could only give Bucky what he wanted and not care, but instead, she was going to give him what he needed, what she was here for and knew how to do.

She got on her knees by his shaking body and patted his flesh shoulder gently, still resisting calling his name.

Bucky woke up with a loud gasp to find her concerned eyes pouring love onto him.

Without a word, she began wiping away his tears with her sleeve, her other hand patting his shoulder to calm him down.

“It was just a bad dream,” she whispered, wishing she could hold her daddy close and make all his fears go away.

Yes, he was her daddy even if he didn’t agree.

“Sorry, that’s embarrassing,” Bucky chuckled, trying to make little of the fact that his nightmare was so horrifying that he was crying in his sleep as he wiped at his own cheeks.

“It’s not embarrassing. It’s human.” She echoed Bucky’s words and that was when he felt it; her warmth flooding his heart and body, surrounding him in gentle waves.

He looked up to meet her gaze and saw only care and compassion reflected back. He wanted to drown in those eyes; hide from everything that was hurting him.

And for the first time in decades, Bucky decided to let himself receive kindness because maybe, just maybe, he deserved some.

Before she could register, Bucky leaned in carefully, his forehead was on her shoulder and his arms at her sides as he let himself cry.

Her eyes were wide, not believing herself as her heart pounded. Bucky was seeking comfort. From her.

Without much thinking, she wrapped her arms tightly around Bucky’s larger body with an unspoken vow not to let go any time soon.

“I’m here, Mr. Barnes,” her small voice whispered, hands going up and down his back in slow, loving strokes.

Bucky shook his head on her shoulder, “no.”

“Bucky?” She quickly switched to his first name, but he shook his head again, raising it this time to lock eyes with her.

“Call me daddy.”

part IV

~

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[messenger-of-babel]

Doorstep Ghosts

Summary: Dick takes you into his apartment when you appear on his doorstep, unable to cope with the recent accident. (Dick Grayson x reader)

Word Count: 1.9K

Notes: Is this even angst anymore? I don’t know. I might have missed the mark a little bit. Warning for sensitive topics and alluded to mentions of suicide. Maddd survivors guilt. If you are triggered I’d suggest to avoid all together just in case. If you are feeling that way, please reach out to someone and call the panic line in your country. There's always someone willing to listen. <3

I had to try and research the difference of whump vs. angst and I still don’t fully understand so I’m just gonna run off of vibes. This might classify more as hurt/comfort actually. Waah idk. Much love, RiRi~ xx

━━━━━━━━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Since the accident, Dick had been keeping close tabs on you.

He had asked Tim if Red Robin could keep a tab on you, even though Tim had his own ordeals to handle back in Gotham. Bruce had even chipped in when Dick asked, transferring him some money so Dick could move you into a safer apartment. Dick hated taking Bruce's money, he could do fine without it, and quite frankly he didn't want to take what he hadn't worked for himself. However, when it came to your safety, he put that aside for a moment. He wasn't going to risk it, so within the week you were in a nicer part of Bludhaven with a state-of-the-art security system secretly set up to ping him if anything went wrong.

He had been so careful, so meticulous about making sure that you were okay that when you appeared on his front step one night, soaked through to the bone and dripping on his doorstep he was stunned. Your eyes were red rimmed and puffy, snot building in your swollen nose. Your arms hugged around yourself to bite back the chill of winter, hair matted to your forehead.

"Can I come in?" you sniffle, quaking. Wordlessly he steps back, arm opening to usher you in and shut the door behind you. His mind is reeling, unsure how you managed to find your way here, halfway across town, without him or anyone back in Gotham noticing. He frowns softly, pulling you into the living room and disappearing to find you a towel. Bringing two fresh ones back, he hands one to you and unfurls the other. Softly he begins to dry your hair while you wipe down the rest of your body, jacket peeling away and making a wet plop on the floor next to you. "It's unsafe for you to be out, especially this late at night. How did you even get here?" He murmurs, squeezing the water from your scalp.

"I took the train." you say back weakly, voice crackly from hours of crying. His frown deepens, fingers clenching in concern.

"You know the train is dangerous on the best of days. No way to get off or go anywhere if something escalates. Not to mention, only gangs use the rail this late. You know better, why didn't you call me?" he chides softly, flinching at the way you hang your head at his tone. he hadn't meant for it to come out like that, he was just concerned for your safety.

"I didn't want to bother you," you sniffle back. "Not to come get me."

"It worries me more when you don't let me come get you. If you wanted company, I would have come to your place-"

"No." you say firmly, towel wrapped around your shoulders and voice firm. "Anywhere but there, anywhere else just not-" you cut yourself off, biting on your lip harshly. He turns you to face him, hands soft as they grip your shoulders.

"No what?" he asks softly. "Come on sweetheart, you gotta work with me here."

"It doesn't feel like home. It's not-" you begin to break into a sob again, and he sighs while rubbing your shoulders.

Home.

He knows how badly you want to go home to your old apartment. The one you had moved into the very first day you set foot into Bludhaven and poured your heart and soul into. The one that you shared with your elder brother, or had.

"I know. But you can't go back there sweetheart," he murmurs, thumbs running small circles over your skin. "It's an active crime scene, and it's unsafe-"

"It's home." you say weakly, hands coming up to wipe at your eyes. "I just want to go home, want to go to my bed in my room."

"You do have a room," he tries to soothe. "I made sure we found you somewhere nice and big, where you can take the master bedroom and have all the freedom to do what you want with decorating it, just like you always wanted."

He can't stand the way his voice sounds so condescending, as if throwing money at the problem as going to make the wound in your heart heal over. He knew it couldn't erase the horrors that you saw or fix the gaping hole in your life. He knew it wasn't going to bring your brother back, but he couldn't find the right words to take the pain away.

"What did you come here for?" he asks gently, crouching down in front of you so he can meet your gaze, heart clenching at the way you hang your head to hide your face. "I've got the spare bed made, or you can share mine. I'll even sleep in the spare room if you want it to yourself, you know I've got the best mattress." He tries to make a teasing remark, but it wavers with uncertainty.

"I…I was thinking." you murmur, hands beginning to quake. His eyebrows furrow, hands coming to grip yours.

"Thinking?" he inquires softly, not liking the ton of your voice.

"If I had been me instead." you hoarsely whisper, making panic flare through his chest.

"It's lucky it wasn't." he counters quickly. "This wasn't your fault, and it wouldn't have made anything better. You're here still, and that means you keep fighting." he stresses, thumbs tracing the back of your hand.

"It wasn’t lucky for him though," you say, voice trembling badly. "It was my fault it happened; it was all my fault. I'm the one who took the photographs of the deal and gave it to him, I'm the one who said he needed to stand up to other police on the force, I'm the one who said he should try to go against the corrupt ones. He took my advice, and it got him killed."

"Sweetheart, no." he tries to stop your rambling. "Listen-"

"It should have been me." you finally sob. "It should have been me, I don't know how I'm supposed to just keep going when all I want is to be with him again." you cry, breath coming out in chokes and eyes clenching shut. Your hands shake in his grip, trying to catch your breath in between sobs. "I want so badly to see him again." you manage to whisper out, voice tight. "I wanna follow, I just want to go."

Dick stands to his full height upon hearing that, pulling you tight. He buries his face in your hair, one arm coming around your back to press you firmly against him, the other on the back of your head. "Stop that." he says firmly. "We don't talk like that; we don't give into those thoughts." His voice comes out stern, but the sharpness of his words is dulled by the panic they're wrapped in.

"I... I know…" you choke out. "I’m... I’m confused Dick. I was convinced but then I got scared about it and I-I…" you trail off, breathing becoming quick and broken by hiccups. "I ran all the way here. I'm a coward, but in that moment, I just felt-"

"Scared." he finishes softly, hand softly petting your damp hair. "You were scared."

You nod against him, sniffling into his worn sleep shirt. "I don't know what to do. I don’t know where to go, where to turn." you whisper fearfully. Dick tightens his arms around you, senses dulling around him as he focuses on you. The sharp intakes of your breath, the erratic ticking of your pulse. "You stay here." he says softly. "With me. You tell me when you're having those thoughts, and I'll make them go away. You won't have to be scared, not when you're with me."

"And when you're not with me?" you ask quietly. He frowns at that, pulling back slightly to look at you.

"Sweetheart," he says adoringly, the faint traces of a warm smile gracing his lips. "Even if you can't see me, I'll always be with you."

Your eyes water more, and you let your head fall forward again. "When you have no one else to turn to, don't forget that you can turn back." he murmurs gently. "Because I'll always be behind you. Always, every step of the way." you say nothing back for a moment, but he holds you as you shake.

"Why?" you ask softly, hiccupping.

"Because I love you." he replies instantly, and you look up at him. Your eyes ware nearly swollen shut from the amount of crying you've been doing, and quite frankly, a mess. "I love you." he repeats. "So don't you dare try to leave, okay?" his own voice wavers, eyes clouding with a sheen of concern. More and more under his soothing you begin to relax, until you're barely standing by yourself. He guides you to bed, helping you change out of the wet clothes and into some of his freshly laundered ones before slipping you under the sheets. He gives you your favourite side of the bed before following suit.

As soon as your head hits the pillow you're out like a light, hand still gripping his softly. He adjusts so he's comfortable, not letting your hand go. With a soft sigh he stares at your worried and beaten form, the worry lines that have formed on your forehead and the bags that have developed under your eyes. You look exhausted, with faint tremors even as your breath evens and you fall deeper into sleep.

He can't even begin to comprehend the horrors that you had seen coming back from work that night, entering your apartment as usual only to walk in on a gruesome scene like that. he had seen it himself, as Nightwing. He had only seen the aftermath though, once the body had already been taken away. He never got to see the body, never saw the carnage that undoubtably the mob had left behind. What he had seen though was the blood splatters over the wall, and the array of household items that were being bagged for murder weapons. He had seen the message scrawled on the wall, crimson letters dripping with a warning. He had seen you, sitting with the paramedics as you stared off into the distance, eyes unseeing as they draped a shock blanket over your shoulders.

He moved himself closer to you, pulling you into him. He wasn’t going to let something like that happen to you, not if he could help it. he was Nightwing, if anything, he should have the power to stop these things. However, the fear that it would slip through his fingers plagued the back of his mind, the nightmare of you fading away like your brother bouncing around painfully inside his skull. He couldn't bear to lose you, not to the mob, not to yourself. He takes a deep breath to try and control his own emotions, careful not to wake you up. As he exhales through his nose, he lets himself relax slightly, gently snaking an arm over you for extra protection. He doubted he'd be sleeping very deeply tonight, but it was the price he was willing to pay to keep you safe.

He'd do it every night for the rest of his life if it meant keeping you by his side, keeping the flickering flame in your heart alive.

He'd keep his arms around you till eternity ended, just so you could know that even if you didn't think you had anyone, you would know you had him.

That is the thought that finally lets Dick flutter into sleep quietly himself, room filling with the sound of the rain outside and the quiet duet of even breaths.

[russo-woso]

We’ll always be there for you || Lionesses/Arsenal/Alessia Russo

Request | Masterlist

Warning pregnancy, morning sickness, horrible cravings, labour and delivery

Summary Pregnancy is hard for anyone, but it’s even harder when you’re young and it’s unexpected. Luckily, you have some of the best teammates who’s always there to help you.

“Fuck.” You whispered, your eyes glossy with tears as you looked down at the stick in your hands.

Pregnant 2-3 weeks

You didn’t know what to do. You didn’t know whether to scream, or to cry.

Your emotions were already high, having broke up with your ex boyfriend two weeks ago, but having his baby? That was whole other type of emotion.

You’d always known you wanted children, you wanted to be a mother, but later in life, once you’d retired from football.

Currently, you were playing for Arsenal and England, frequently having a spot in the starting line up or if not, definitely coming on later in the game.

Barely just turning twenty, that was an amazing achievement and were expected to be one of the best by the time you were 25.

That’s gone out the window now.

Thoughts flowed through your mind as you continued to stare at the stick.

You were supposed to be playing France on Friday, you couldn’t play whilst you were pregnant.

“Y/N, is that you? Are you okay?” You heard Alessia ask, gently knocking on the door.

You were so wrapped up in your own bubble that you hadn’t realised you’d been crying and sniffling, Alessia clearly hearing your muffled cries and sniffs.

Not coming up with an excuse as to why you were crying, you thought you’d just tell her the truth.

You trusted Alessia like a big sister so you knew she would never judge.

You leaned forward to open the door, Alessia slowly coming in.

You watched as her eyes travelled down to your vulnerable body curled up on the floor of a cubicle in St George’s park.

Her eyes widening as they landed on the stick in your hand.

“Are you…?” Alessia questioned softly, crouching down to sit on the floor next to you.

You nodded, before breaking down.

Alessia held your shaking body as you sobbed.

“I’m here. I’m going to be here with you whatever you decide to do.” Alessia whispered, rubbing your back. “No matter what.”

—

You spoke to your ex over the phone and had told him about the pregnancy, but there was no surprise when he put the phone down as soon as the words left your mouth.

There was a sense of happiness when he did it because quite frankly, he was a dick and you didn’t want a kind of man like him in your babies life.

You’d also told your parents. That conversation went okay.

Your mum and dad lived over in America, moving there when your older brother decided to. After all, he was their favourite child, it was obvious he was, so they were always going to follow him.

They said they would help no matter what and that they were excited to meet their grandbaby.

As for the England and Arsenal team, that went better than you expected.

You were scared some of your teammates would judge you.

Judge you for being careless. Judge you for being a young mum. Judge you for your decisions.

You stood in the Arsenal changing rooms after a training session, you having to go off and have a separate session.

You’d already told the Arsenal staff, obviously having to notify them of why you causing participate in normal training and games.

“Why didn’t you join us today, kid?” Katie asked, ruffling your hair as she walked past to get to her cubby.

You didn’t know whether to say the truth or not.

Alessia was the only one out of all of them who knew.

You’d spoken to less just a few days prior about telling the team and it had been decided you’d do it soon since you were approaching 12 weeks.

“Umm, tweak in my knee. Just precautionary.” You replied, quickly, truing to make it believable.

“Oh, kiddo, how long did they say you’d be out for?” Steph questioned

“A few weeks.” You said, casually, trying to take the attention off of you.

You looked at Alessia who sent you a saddened look.

The room went silent for a few minutes as you slowly built up the courage to announce it to them.

“Actually…” you began, looking around the room as all your teammates looked at you. Locking eyes with Alessia, she nodded encouragingly. With one final breath, the words fell out your mouth. “I’m pregnant.”

The room fell deathly silent again, to the point where you’d hear a pin drop.

You wanted the world to swallow you up.

You looked at your teammates blank faces, no expressions on them at all.

But then they all turned to smiles.

“Congratulations, kiddo.” Beth exclaimed, tackling you into a hug.

“Thanks, beffy.” You smiled softly as you hugged her back, a sigh of gratefulness leaving your mouth at your teammates reactions.

“My turn for a hug now.” Leah said, pushing Beth out the way. “Congratulations, star. You’re going to be an amazing mama.” Leah told you, using your nickname she’d given you from when you first joined arsenal. “I’m gonna have to come up with a nickname for your baby now.”

“Pain in the ass, that would be a good one. Waking me up every morning to be sick.” You explained, resting a hand on your slightly curved stomach.

“We have another partner in crime!” Kyra cheered, nearly jumping into your side.

“Careful of the baby! She’s carrying arsenals next best player.” Leah scolded Kyra

“I’m fine, le.” You said before turning to Kyra. “Think of all the pranks we can pull with the baby.”

“It’s going to be so fun.”

Everyone came and hugged you, congratulating you on the news.

The England girls reacted all the same.

You’d messaged the group chat with all the lionesses in and explained that you’d be out for a year because you were pregnant.

That afternoon, your phone was blowing up with messages from your teammates congratulating you.

You cried at their reactions, really happy that you could welcome your baby into a world where they’d be loved so dearly.

—

The next few weeks went by quickly.

You were ten weeks pregnant when Alessia suggested you moved in with her.

If you were to describe Alessia, you’d describe her as an overprotective older sister.

So when you let it slip that you had been sick all night and morning, she insisted that you moved in with her.

She couldn’t stand the thought of you being that vulnerable on your own.

You told her that it wouldn’t just be you moving in, it would also be the baby, but she didn’t care.

She wanted what was best for you and the baby and that meant not being on your own when you’re that vulnerable.

You were grateful that she had offered to move in with her because the day after moving in, you had the worst wave of morning sickness.

Alessia was up immediately, rubbing your back and holding your hair up.

“This is fucking ridiculous. I thought morning sickness was supposed to last a few weeks.” You mumbled, leaning against the wall as you finished the first round of throwing up.

“I know, hon, but you’ll have your baby at the end of it.” Alessia pointed out and you nodded, going to respond but instead having to throw your head in the toilet. “It’s okay, I’m here.”

—

“And if you look just over here, there’s your baby.” The nurse said, pointing to the screen.

“That’s your baby, Y/N.” Alessia whispered, her eyes stuck on the screen.

Since your parents were in America and you had no other family living in England, you’d asked Alessia to go with.

She said yes immediately, pulling you in for a hug at how honoured she was.

“And if you listen, that’s your babies heartbeat.”

A soft rhythm of a heart beating filled the room as stared in awe at the screen.

Alessia squeezed your hand, and you looked up at her with a smile on your face.

You watched as she blinked back tears.

“Why you crying, lessi?”

“I’m just proud of you, kiddo.”

“Your baby looks perfectly healthy. They’re the perfect size for 12 weeks.” The nurse said, as you nodded along, but you couldn’t really hear anything else because you were so focused on the heartbeat. “As you can see here, there’s their arms and their legs. Their head is resting just on the left side of your womb there. And their nose is just there.” The nurse pointed to them all on the screen.

You watched the screen closely as you watched your baby move.

“They’re saying hello.” The nurse joked as you let out a small laugh.

The nurse continued to go through things with you, before printing off some pictures and booking in your next scan.

“You best send a picture to everyone, they’ve all been messaging me asking if everything okay.” Less said as you got in the car.

You took a picture of the scan pictures, sending it to the Arsenal and England group chats.

You sent them a follow up message explaining how everything’s perfect.

Everyone messaged back saying how happy and proud they were.

—

You’d finally reached 20 weeks, the half way mark.

Your bump had grown a lot and so had your need for sleep.

Your baby has started kicking a lot.

Two weeks ago, you felt the first kick, and then they never stopped.

All day, every day. But it was even worse at night time.

Barely getting three hours sleep at night, you struggled to keep your eyes open.

You were exhausted and you were only half way through the pregnancy.

Today though, you were pushing your exhaustion to the side because today was your gender reveal party.

You weren’t having anything big. Just a few teammates and a cake with either pink or blue in it.

Unbeknownst to you, it had been arranged that loads of your international teammates were travelling from all over the county to come.

Tooney was obviously coming, in fact she’d spent the night as well.

Viv had organised everything for the party, including the cake, because she was one of the only ones you trusted not to tell anyone.

She’d dropped the cake round earlier and had helped Ella and less decorate the house before everyone came.

You’d been stuck inside your room all morning, Alessia and Tooney wanting the decorations to be a surprise for you.

So when you were finally allowed to leave, it felt like you were leaving jail.

You were all ready, your hair and makeup done.

You wore a white dress that showed off your baby bump.

Walking into the living room, you were met with a room full of your teammates.

“Surprise!” They exclaimed, your eyes widening in shock.

“Y/N, you’re glowing.” Chloe said, getting up to hug you.

“Thanks, Chlo.” You replied, shrugging it off, not believing her.

“She’s not kidding, kiddo. You look great.” Mary told you

“It’s all makeup, I look exhausted without it.” You sighed, plonking yourself down next to Leah on the sofa.

“How’s bubba doing?” Leah asked, rubbing her hand over your bump.

“Kicking a lot. Feel.” You moved her hand to the right side of your bump, exactly where the baby was kicking.

“They’re kicking hard. Gonna be a defender just like their auntie le.” Leah told you and you scoffed in response.

“No, they’re going to be a midfielder like their mama.” You said, rubbing your bump.

The room fell into a light chatter, everyone talking to one another.

Eventually, it was time to cut the cake.

Everyone crowded round the table where you stood waiting.

“Before I cut the cake, I just want to say thank you to all of you who have turned up today. It means a lot to me, knowing how much you love the baby. So thank you.” Everyone cheered before encouraging you to cut the cake.

They counted down from three and on zero, you cut the cake.

Slowly, you pulled out the slice, revealing a baby pink colour inside.

A girl

Everyone cheered at the sight, the England girls happy that another lioness was joining the squad.

You cut the rest of the cake, sharing it round to everyone.

Everyone sat in the living room, full from their cake, as they spoke some more.

They all stopped their conversations one by one when they heard small snored filling the room.

They turned to you, delicately holding your bump as you sat leaned up against Alessia, fast asleep.

Everyone got their phones out, taking a picture, awing at the sight in front of them.

“Bless here. She needed this sleep, didn’t she?” Millie questioned as Alessia nodded.

When you awoke, everyone had gone and it was back to being just you and Alessia.

“Did I fall asleep?” You mumbled into Alessia side, rubbing your eyes.

“You did, hon, but it’s okay everyone knew you were tired.”

“Did I at least get round to cutting the cake? God, don’t tell me I fell asleep before cutting the cake.” You panicked as Alessia laughed slightly.

“You cut the cake.” Alessia confirmed. “A baby girl. You’re a having a little girl, Y/N.”

“Good, I don’t think I could’ve coped with a boy.” You joked, your eyes still full with exhaustion.

“Go back to sleep if you want to, hon. We don’t need to go anywhere.”

—

“How you feeling?” Alessia asked, rubbing your shoulders as you sat bouncing up and down on a yoga ball.

“They’re getting worse.” You respond, holding your now nine month bump.

You’d started getting contraction yesterday afternoon and they’d continued all throughout the night.

“Fuck.” You mumbled, grabbing your bump as a contraction hit.

Alessia rubbed your back comfortingly, helping you get through your contraction.

“Missy needs to come out soon, auntie lessi wants to meet her.” Alessia said, using the nickname you’d created for your baby girl.

“I know, I can’t wait to meet her either. It also means I don’t have to be pregnant anymore.” You said, sighing.

“I know, hon.”

“Less go get ready, you’ve got training in an hour.” You pointed out to her

“Y/N, you really think I’m leaving you whilst you’re in labour? There’s no way I’m leaving your side.” Alessia told you

“Less, you’re going to training. My contractions aren’t that bad for you not to go to training. You’ve got a match Saturday that you have to train for. Please go.” You begged, feeling guilty for being the reason why she wasn’t going to training.

“Fine, but if anything happens, you ring me straight away.” Alessia said and you nodded.

“I will, I promise. Can you help me up? little miss is kicking me right in the bladder.”

Alessia helped you up before you waddled to the bathroom.

Just as you were reaching for the door handle, you heard a pop before a gush of water.

“Less? Forget about you going to training. My waters just broke.” You told her, looking down at the puddle by your feet.

“Your waters broke? Fuck, what do we do? You go wait in the car, or go change it’s up to you. I’ll grab the—” Less rambled, clearly panicking.

“Woah, lessi, calm down. You go take a seat. I’ll go upstairs and change and then we’ll head to the hospital. Oh and also, take a chill pill, yeah?”

—

“So close, hon. She’s nearly here.” Alessia encouraged you, wiping your sweat drench hair out your face.

After nine hours of gruelling active labour, the time had come to finally push.

Alessia had stayed by your side the entire time and most of your teammates were already waiting in the waiting room.

“I can’t do it, less.” You said, breathlessly, throwing your head back after pushing for ten seconds.

“You can, Y/N. Your baby girls gonna be here soon. I know you can do it.” Less told you

“She better be worth it after this.” You remarked, squeezing Alessia’s hand as you felt another contraction come which meant one thing, it was time to push again.

“She will, hon, I promise.”

“Her heads out now, one more big push and she’ll be here.” The midwife announced after another torturous push.

“Never have children, less.”

“Okay, hon.” Alessia said, letting out a laugh. “One more push. That’s it.”

The next moments went by in a flash.

All the pain disappeared as you pushed for the final time.

A cry filled the room as your daughter was passed onto your chest.

“Hi, baby.” You smiled, tears and sweat rolling down your face, as you looked at your baby.

Alessia watched, tears flowing from her eyes.

“Who’s cutting the cord?” The midwife asked, holding up a pair of scissors.

“You cut it, lessi. You’ve been with me the whole pregnancy.” You told her, taking your eyes off your baby girl to look at her.

More tears welled in her eyes as she cut the cord.

The nurses took your daughter away to be cleaned and checked over.

She was perfect, ten toes and ten fingers, and weighed in at just under seven pounds.

When she was handed back to you, she was wrapped in a blanket with a small hat upon her head, covering her small tuffs of brown hair.

“She beautiful, hon.” Less whispered, looking at the baby on your chest.

“She is.” You agreed, stroking your finger up and down her cheek. “I have a baby, less.”

“You do indeed, hon.” Less laughed before a small silence filled the room.

“You want to know her name?” You questioned, Alessia nodding straight away, desperate to know.

“Her name is Missy Alessia Y/L/N.” You revealed, looking up to see Alessia’s reaction.

Alessia just burst out crying, leaning down to hug you.

“Thank you so much.” Alessia said in between sobs.

“Thank you, lessi. You know, when I first saw that I was pregnant, my first thought was to put the baby up for adoption. It wasn’t that I didn’t want a baby or I wasn’t ready for one, it was that I didn’t have anyone to help me. But then you saw me, and in that moment, When you said you’d be with me the whole way, I knew that I wanted to keep the baby. We have you to thank.” I explain to her, getting emotional. “Here, hold her.”

“Hi, missy.” Alessia cooed, staring in awe at the baby in her arms.

—

The rest of the girls came in shortly after, looking in awe at Missy snuggled up in Alessia’s arms.

“Hey, kiddo. How you feeling?” Leah asked, gently hugging you.

“Exhausted, but it’s so worth it.”

“I bet.” Leah kissed the top of your head before walking round to see missy.

“She looks just like you, kid.” Beth said, sitting on the edge of your bed.

“Lessi said that too.”

“Are we late? Has she been born yet? Oh my god, them hallways are long. I feel I’ve just ran ten miles.” Tooney shouts, bathing into the room.

Cries fill the room, everyone turning to see missy.

“Tooney!” Less lectured her, passing the crying baby to you.

“It’s okay, mamas got you.” You whispered, missy immediately calming down from your voice and touch.

The girls watched, most of them getting emotional at you and missy.

“Tooney, you can’t just—” Mary started shouting but everyone shut her up by shushing her.

“We’ve just got missy to sleep.” Leah told her. “What is her name? We can’t just keep calling her missy forever.”

“Of course you can. Her name is missy after all. Missy Alessia Y/L/N.”

“See, I’m the favourite auntie. She’s named after me.” Alessia told Ella, a playful smirk on Alessia’s face.

“Welcome to your crazy family, missy. Where all your aunties are all weirdos, except for me.” Millie whispered, stroking her cheeks.

“Welcome to your family, kid.” You repeated to Missy, pressing your lips delicately to her head.

—

• Y/N_Y/L/N04 posted •

Liked by alessia, leahwilliamsonn, and 72,753 others

My little love 🤍

Comments disabled

[khaosssss]

YOU CANT DO THIS TO ME.

Oh my god lemme have a moment about the puppet horror website

Okay so looking back at the audio for "Just So": Frank's whole thing is that he likes everything in order, when it all goes according to plan and follows the script so to speak. He very specifically demonstrates this with crayons, noting that he prefers when they go in the order of the rainbow. Every character of course has a signature color, as found on their About sections. The audio distorts when Wally asks about whether the color *purple* is included. This was arguably our first clue that Eddie was going to be the first victim, as that is *his* color.

(Also fun fact: purple and yellow, Eddie and Frank's colors, are complementary, meaning that they make each other appear brighter with contrast, which just has like its own sweet symbolism, like they literally make each other's worlds brighter.)

But let's go back to the song. Frank likes it when "the colors stay inside the lines", when they *follow the pattern* dictated by *what's above,* symbolically the showrunners. This is probably why he clashes with Sally so much, because she believes in adapting the source material for the sake of a grander vision (which makes her an easy target for whatever Home plans next, and is probably why she was able to see what comes out after all the neighbors go to bed, which some have speculated to just be the show's crew).

Frank purposefully doesn't mention purple. *Wally* is the one to ask about it, which has some implications (we still don't know what exactly Wally's role is in the show's downfall). Frank sees Eddie as the exception, in his mind he is allowed to go against the order because he loves him, but he can't let anyone know that because 1) it's the 70s so nothing can be queer on TV, and 2) he has a reputation to uphold as the guy who follows the rules no matter what.

(Granted, he doesn't mention the colors pink or teal either, Julie and Howdy's colors respectively, so this could just be for the sake of the song, but we gotta look at all possible interpretations.)

Frank is going to have to accept that he can't keep everything "just so" if he wants to keep Eddie in his life. He is going to have to choose between keeping the established order or keeping the vibrancy in his life.

[moonstruckme]

hi!! Could you do a blurb with poly!marauders where they find reader crying and they get worried, but reader was just crying about a book and tries to explain it to them through tears and just ends up crying even more.

Thanks :)

Thanks for requesting lovely!

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 567 words

James’ eyes are bleary as he goes down the hall to get a glass of water, and he has to blink a few times to convince himself he actually is seeing light coming from beneath your door. It’s the early hours of the morning, he can’t imagine why you’d still be up. He cracks the door and peeks inside, wondering if you might’ve just fallen asleep with the light on, but you’re sitting up in bed, a hand pressed harshly over your mouth as your shoulders hitch and tears dribble down your chin. 

“Sweetheart.” James rushes for you, kneeling on the bed and taking your face in his hands. You look surprised to see him, but your tears don’t stop. His heart cleaves wide open as a quiet sob escapes you, your wet, blotchy cheeks hot under his palms. “Honey, what’s happened?”

“It’s—it—” another sob escapes you, an awful, wrecked sound. You give up on trying to speak, launching yourself forward and burying your head in his shoulder.

James hugs you back. Your shoulders are quaking beneath his hand, and he feels a wet spot already forming where your face is smushed into the collar of his shirt. He tries shushing you, panic clawing up his throat. James hasn’t seen you this upset in all the time he’s known you. He’s desperate to know what the cause of it is, to fix it, but if it’s shaken you this badly, he’s worried he might not be able to. 

Either your cries or his voice has woken the other boys. Remus and Sirius both appear in the doorway, looking half-asleep until they catch sight of you weeping in James’ arms. 

“Wha—” Sirius looks around the room like the perpetrator of your upset might still be lingering in the corner. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” James says helplessly, rubbing your back. “Angel,” he murmurs, “do you think you could try and tell us what’s made you so sad?”

You sniffle wetly, picking your head up from his shoulder. Sirius makes a soft sound at the sight of your red, pinched face, glossy with tears and snot. 

“It—” You pick up your book, laying discarded beside you on the bed, and wave it about angrily. “The main character, she—” your bottom lip wobbles, and you toss the book aside, covering your face with your hands as you devolve into sobs again. You turn around to hide your face in your pillow.

“Oh, honey,” Remus coos, and James looks up bemusedly at the relief in his voice. He moves closer, rubbing your back sympathetically. “The main character of her book died,” he explains to the other two. “Did I get that right, darling?”

You nod into the pillow. 

“Baby,” Sirius says, and he’s laughing, “she was fictional.”

You make a terrible keening sound, your back convulsing with the force of your despair. 

Frankly, James doesn’t disagree, but he takes you by the shoulders, coaxing you up from the pillow and back into his chest. 

“I’m sorry, angel,” he says as you clutch fistfuls of his shirt, the material growing damp with snot and tears. 

“She was so young,” you whimper. “She wanted to—to do things.” 

“Oh, dove, I know,” Remus murmurs, moving his palm up and down your spine. 

“I hate the author.” 

“We’ll send them a strongly-worded email in the morning,” he promises you. “They’ll feel your wrath, sweetheart.”

[pomefioredove]

i crave angst and hurt/comfort/fluff maybe something like that with vil? maybe reader gets hurt pretty badly or something and vil gets upset?? hehe angsty scenarios>>

on my hands and knees rn... vil... save me vil...

summary: anger is an ugly emotion type of post: fic characters: vil additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, angsty..... mentions of bullying/abuse etc?? very open ended you can interpret that how you please, GOD this is indulgent

Anger is an ugly emotion.

So much is true even for Vil Schoenheit. If you asked him, there is nothing more undignified than losing your composure in front of others, especially those under your care.

No, Vil keeps such emotions to himself. If he feels the need to get a point across, or to settle a conflict, he will do so with grace and dignity. He won't even break a nail.

This is different.

This is seeing you turn away from him with tears in your eyes, and feeling as if the very world itself is crashing down around him.

He cannot stand it.

He cannot stand seeing you like this.

It shakes him to his very core. You've had bad days, evenings where you come crawling into Pomefiore looking as if the world had chewed you up and spit you back out at his feet, and he's tended to it.

He's combed your hair, cleaned the dirt out from under you nails, bandaged your paper cuts with a sort of gentleness he doesn't even reserve for himself, made you look new and whole again.

Vil can't help with this.

It drives him mad. It makes him feel like he's stuck inside his own ribcage with nothing but the sound of his beating heart, trapped in a flurry of confusion and anxiety.

He wishes you would just talk about it. It would make everything so much easier if you would let him help.

But he won't pressure you. He couldn't bring himself to. And, quite frankly, if he knew even the slightest detail about whomever had been making you feel this way, he was afraid he wouldn't be able to stop himself from finding them and mincing them to shreds.

As they deserved.

But Vil is not one to rush into anything. He is patient, cordial, taking his sweet time to understand a problem from all angles before enacting a solution.

And so, he doesn't ask.

He holds your chin between his delicate fingers and dabs at the corners of your eyes, hoping to brush away your misery along with your tears.

You sniffle. It's not a pretty sight- you're certainly no graceful crier.

He couldn't care less.

The only thing that Vil can think of now is how only one measly person could be your undoing.

After everything you've been through without even breaking a sweat, all it took were a few too-familiar words to melt you into a pool of bad memories and misery at his feet.

Sevens help whichever poor fool had done this to you.

"Now, now. That's alright," he coos, wiping your cheeks just as a new barrage of tears runs down them. "Don't worry about a thing."

You just barely manage to choke out a response. "I'm sorry, this is- this is embarrassing,"

"Nonsense. You have nothing to feel bad for. I promise I won't utter a word of this to the others,"

He cups your face in his palms, giving you a moment to compose yourself.

"Deep breaths," he instructs. "Seven seconds in, hold it, for just a moment, and then seven seconds out. There. Excellent job."

It's quiet. The sound of sobs and his own heart pounding seem to fade into quiet breaths shared between the both of you.

"Good," he strokes your cheeks with his thumbs. A repetitive, soothing motion. "How do you feel?"

"Guilty," you say. "I didn't mean to ruin your evening."

"You've ruined nothing. You're very important to me, you know. I would never want you to think I'm too busy for you," he offers a smile. "Now, how do you feel?"

You're quiet for a moment, likely mulling over his words. Your voice is softer when you reply. "Tired,"

"Oh... you poor thing. I can't have you dead on your feet tomorrow, now, can I?"

You shake your head.

He stands, pulling you up with him. "Come along, then. Let's get you to bed. I'll help,"

He begins guiding you away from the couch you'd spent the better half of the evening sobbing on. You respond in a quiet voice.

"Vil?"

"Mm? Yes?"

"You promise you won't say anything about this to the others?"

A look of utter softness crosses his face at your request, and he smiles again. "My lips are sealed,"

[qingxin-dream]

Scara relaxing on the couch with you<3 if u do NSFW having him cockwarm you so he can relax

“𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈𝐭 𝐑𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬, 𝐈𝐭 𝐏𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬”

summary | today was one of those days where nothing could go right. well, maybe, it’s been like that for awhile. and you know damn well that your loving husband was not about to watch you fall into despair. (art credits: unknown)

warnings | not proofread, reader has a mental breakdown, comfort, profanity, smut [18+, MDNI], female-bodied reader, cockwarming, edging/teasing, orgasm denial, slightly possessive/dominant, marking, breeding kink, creampie

genre | modern au, comfort, smut

word count | 3k

pairing | husband! scaramouche x reader

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The sky had been overcast all day, only putting a damper on your mood. Work has somehow become extra stressful lately with more and more responsibilities piling up. You felt the crushing weight on your shoulders with each passing hour and you couldn’t wait for the clock to hit 5pm.

The last place you wanted to be was at work, away from home, and without your husband, Scaramouche. Even then, your relationship was getting to a point where it was nothing more than bitter roommates. He had missions to complete while you were obligated to work every day. Someone had to be the breadwinner, after all.

Sweet freedom washes over your exhausted body when it’s finally time to go home. You rush outside only to find that the clouds had turned a nasty gray color and wet droplets of rain dotted your suit jacket.

Great, you forgot an umbrella.

The rain was really picking up now, your clothes soaked and your hair flattening into drenched clumps. Running through the downpour, you had to make it another block to your car until you got stopped at an intersection—narrowly avoiding the wave of water a speeding car almost splashed onto you.

Once you practically leaped into your car for safety, the sense of stillness that suddenly permeated the air brought you back down to earth. You were more than overworked. You were burned out, with hot tears freely streaming down your face in a choked sob. Gripping the steering wheel, you slumped your forehead onto your knuckles, shoulders shaking as you cried out all the pressure you had bottled up inside. The rain beat against the windshield, drowning out your agony.

Once you managed to compose yourself with a few sad sniffles here and there, you turned the key in the ignition. Tonight you decided to forget about everything. No stress. No work. Not even a single load of laundry. You couldn’t muster the strength for anything other than some sort of self-care or self-indulgence.

When you walked through the door with an expression bordering on despair, Scaramouche knew you had a rough day. He frowned to himself. Frankly, the distance between you two was a sore spot for him as of late and he was expecting you to lock yourself in the bedroom.

At first, he had been stubborn about the tangible separation pushing you further and further away from him. Foolishly, Scaramouche had tried to drown himself in his busy work and missions, simply trying to ignore it. But after a while, he realized that this damned feeling of alienation and being constantly on edge like some old married couple was ridiculous.

That’s not who he married or the life he signed up for, and Scaramouche found himself determined to finally act like you both loved each other for once.

“Hey, babe,” he greeted you from the couch. Looking down at his casual sweatpants and shirt, you wished you could’ve stripped down and lazed around on the couch this afternoon. Sleep was something you desperately needed. He offers a small olive branch with his softened tone of voice. “Why don’t you get changed and come sit with me? I missed you.”

You drew in a hesitant breath. Perhaps it was your way of attempting to decompress before answering your husband or you were unsure of his intentions. The couch was definitely calling to you, and the prospect of your lover’s comforting arms enveloping you was even more tempting. In a haste, you kicked off your shoes and dropped your bag, nodding with a bit of a pitiful pout on your lips as you went into the bedroom.

Scaramouche perked up slightly upon hearing your return, making room for you on the couch so that he could spoon you just right. As you sat down, his hand immediately went to your hip and he found himself gravitating toward the comforting crevice of your neck. Your skin was colder than he expected from the rain but he was more than willing to share his warmth with you, his fingers venturing up the contour of your waist under your baggy shirt.

“There’s goosebumps on your skin,” he noted with an obvious smile in his voice. “Why don’t you take this off and let me warm you up, hm?”

You gaze at him over your shoulder, catching the subtle seductive intonation of his offer. Despite his pads of his fingers gently caressing and massaging your hip in encouragement, you weren’t entirely sure if you had it in you for too much physical affection. Most of all, you just felt tired.

Yet, Scaramouche always got his way. Maybe it was how the words rolled off his tongue that sparked your imagination in the back of your mind, or that mischievous gleam of excitement in his violet eyes. He had no problem catering to your needs, helping you slowly lift that baggy shirt over your shoulders and tossing it aside. He quickly did the same.

Suddenly, he ensnared you in his arms, burying his nose in your neck and sighing. The feeling of your back pressed against his bare, muscular chest was like a balm soothing his soul. You couldn’t help but chuckle lightly, surprised by his enthusiasm, and pull a heavy blanket over you both.

“Better get rid of these too,” Scaramouche suggested softly into the shell of your ear, tugging at the elastic waistband of your shorts. He generously nuzzled your neck, peppering a few kisses across your sensitive skin to distract you as he easily slipped you out of your bottoms.

Your whimpers were buried in your throat. You purposely tried to stifle it, but the little shiver of your neck and body against his ministrations couldn’t hide your true feelings forever. The slow drag of his hand up your plush thighs, over the round of your hip, and dangerously close to your breasts was merely a confirmation of your suspicions.

“Scara… please,” you murmur, sounding more like a faint plea for peace and relaxation. “My feet hurt so much. I don’t think I can move anymore, let alone do—”

“Shhh, love, you really think I’m going to make you do anything?” he asks rhetorically, the timbre of his sweet words deepening to a level bordering on husky. His hand travels back down the curves of your body with silent reverence, hoping to ease your worries. “I don’t think you realize how hard you’ve been working until it breaks you.”

With a click of his tongue, your husband continues to let his hand journey over every inch of your lovely form. Your breasts, your stomach, your pelvis, hips, thighs… If he was being honest, Scaramouche would never have thought he’d discover someone as perfectly imperfect as you. To not remind you of how much he secretly worships your whole being would be a grave sin in his eyes.

“I feel like I never see you anymore. We never talk anymore,” he mumbles into your shoulder blade, taking his time to kiss and nibble as much of your upper back as he could. You involuntarily arched your back, the sensation of his mouth along your spine sending pulses of electric desire through you. His voice shifts into a possessive growl. “And I miss my wife.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” you weep dryly, rolling your head back to relax on him fully. Your thoughts instantly short-circuited at the revelation of his thick bulge pressing into the plush of your ass, tactically held in place by his fingertips digging into your love handle. You were so ready to just melt into him completely, to give in and let him take care of you.

“Don’t ask for my forgiveness,” he quickly interjected to correct you. You could feel the smirk spreading on his face as he leans into you as much as possible. The back of his hand ghosts your inner thigh, nudging it to the side. “Show me how much you want my mercy.”

You were hanging on every syllable that left his lips in a hushed whisper. A featherlight touch grazed near your outer labia, enough to capture your attention like a moth to a flame. That was all it took for him to push your mind over the edge. It was pathetic, really, how you were desperately trying to mentally fill in the blanks and imagine the pleasure of his slender fingers massaging your needy clit.

Scaramouche knew exactly what he was doing. He loved getting a rise out of you. Admiring the subtle contortion of your features in pleasure may be his favorite pastime. Tickling the insides of your thighs and skirting skillfully around the one place you wanted him most, he scoffed in amusement every time you sighed softly in frustration.

“I thought you were going to be nice,” you groaned impatiently, beginning to lazily roll your hips in rhythm with the intermittent brush of his fingers just shy of your cunt.

“I am,” he snickered into your collarbone, his hot breath pouring down your chest and thrilling your skin. “You can’t lie to me. I know you like when I tease you until you’re begging for me to stuff you to the brim.”

Taking your lower lip between your teeth, you managed to defiantly buck your hips forward and finally feel the tantalizing glide of his index and middle fingers between your slick folds. The sweet victory ripped a lewd moan of your lover’s name from your pretty throat. To say you were utterly addicted to the sound of him parting the lips of your glistening pussy might be an understatement.

“Tsk, tsk, good things come to those who wait. Isn’t that what you humans say?” Scaramouche mocks you lightheartedly, though his fingers don’t leave your clit. Rather, he circles the sensitive nub at a tantalizingly slow pace to earn another cock-twitching moan from your angelic mouth. “I could touch you like this all night… unless you’d rather serve your punishment on my cock instead?”

You were too preoccupied with the intoxicating pleasure concentrated on your aching clit, eyelashes resting on your cheeks and jaw slightly agape. Scaramouche chuckled deeply into your ear with satisfaction, returning his lips to your neck but this time with a little more force. His teeth sunk into you, intent on leaving a good bruise.

It would be a clear reminder in the morning of who you belong to.

He sucked a little harder, causing you to yelp in a mixture of both pain and pleasure. His words were muffled against your skin with a gentle scolding. “I asked you a question.”

“C-cock, please,” you nearly choke, starting to grind sloppily onto his hand for some sense of relief. His other arm underneath you tightened, essentially pinning you to the heat radiating from his body from behind.

“Whose cock?” Scaramouche grumbled jealously at your vague plea. He needed to know that you didn’t just want anyone’s cock to fill up your drenched, gummy hole. The intensity of his violet irises demanded an answer, glued to your blissed out and desperate expression. His fingers were hastily stimulating your clit as he intently watched you parse love and lust on the brink of an orgasm.

“Y-your cock! Please! I need it so bad,” you cried out loudly, the threat of tears lingering behind your eyes. He abruptly slapped a hand over your mouth to quiet your moans, and then shoved his hot, veiny cock pulsating with desire across your soaking wet entrance.

Scaramouche couldn’t stop the salacious groans under his breath, wanting you to hear all the ways you make him unravel. He was eager to drag the mushroomed, pink tip of his cock over your clit over and over, occasionally teasing your hole with the pressure of his length trying to nestle itself within you. But he never pushed it all in. Instead, he continued to gather your essence on his cock—the mere thought of cumming in your rosy folds like this and fucking it messily drove him wild.

“Don’t tell me… hnnnghh… that this is all you want, (Y/N),” he grunted with honeyed pleasure, grinding at a little faster rhythm. You were already nearing your climax again, whispering prayers and praises under your breath for Scaramouche to plunge into you and fuck you senseless.

His hand was still tightly covering your mouth, so you simply shake your head and moan breathily to ask for more.

“Mm, good girl,” he mumbles intimately, kissing your ear and nuzzling you affectionately again. “I know my baby is tired and needy, so I’ll let you be my little cocksleeve tonight, okay?”

You nod and hum against his hand enthusiastically.

He takes the opportunity to shower you with a few more kisses, lining the tip of his cock with your entrance once more. Your walls were already squeezing eagerly on the small inch of his tip inside you and he didn’t dare delay any longer. Scaramouche grabs you by the hip and buries the entirety of his thick cock in your slick tightness, his eyebrows crinkling at the feeling of your pussy clenching around him like a vice.

“F-fuck!” Scaramouche curses sharply, bottoming out completely in your aroused cunt. “So good. S-so fucking good, yeah…”

“A-ah, yes! Mm…” you sighed raggedly with ecstasy, pure pleasure and relief washing over you. His huge cock was stretching you perfectly, the lips of your pussy sucking him in at every possible chance. Despite your exhaustion, your husband had wound you up so much that you begged for tiniest semblance of a thrust into your sopping hole. “Oh my god, p-please, fuck me.”

Without warning, you decided to selfishly fuck yourself on his throbbing cock, but Scaramouche instantly snatched your throat. He held you tightly against his pecs and craned your neck with a forceful grip so that you were facing the ceiling, your oxygen partially cut off. The submissive position had your spongy walls dilating in excitement.

“No, no, wait,” he chastised you, his voice cracking slightly at the end as he struggled to adjust to your greedy cunt. “N-Need I remind you, love? Good things come to those who wait; and if you’re lucky, I’ll cum in you.”

He couldn’t believe your pussy was still quaking around his girth, releasing your neck as you nodded obediently. Once he pulled you into him tightly with his strong arms around your stomach, Scaramouche nudged your legs closed so that you could completely envelope his cock. It was incredibly hot every time he shifted to get more comfortable and your walls only swallowed him further. His breathing calmed slightly, wanting to relax with you for the rest of the night deep within your cunt.

“I-It feels too good, Scara,” you whined, cuddling into the pillow on the couch and clutching the warm blanket to your chest.

For the love of Celestia, your body was so exhausted from work but at the same time you wished you had the strength to fuck him like crazy. You made a mental note to wake him up tomorrow morning with the feeling of your folds lubricating his hardened cock, sinking completely onto his impressive length when his pretty indigo eyes sleepily opened for the first time. You’d make sure to hush him and keep his sleeping mask on snugly, fucking him to your heart’s content.

But for now, your husband returned to worshipping the expanse of your soft curves, coaxing you to relax despite the occasional twitch of his cock inside you. Scaramouche’s voice was smooth as silk when he whispered into the crook of your neck, “See? That wasn’t so bad now. Why don’t you turn on your show and I’ll keep this pretty pussy of yours company for as long as you need, hm?”

You both melted into each other’s embrace, connected in every way imaginable for the first time in a long time. The sensation of your lover’s cock nestling into your folds slowly nudged your sweet spot, drawing breathy moans out of you. He thrusted slowly but deeply, marveling at the lust clouding your eyes pushing you just a little bit closer to the edge.

Though Scaramouche was enraptured by the heavenly sound of your pussy slurping his cock, the need burning in his core was beginning to overtake him. “Mm, turn around for me, babe.”

He was gentle and attentive to you as he helped you face him, holding you firmly against his chest and quickly ensuring his cock didn’t leave your cunt for too long. As he stuffed you full, his mouth captured yours in a passionate kiss. His fingers dug into your hair, keeping your lips planted on his as you lazily swirled your tongue on his own and moaned his name.

“Nnghh, can’t take it anymore,” Scaramouche growled hungrily into your mouth, lifting your leg slightly to support you so he could delve his cock deeper. His tone trailed off in a quiet beg, “Lemme breed you, (Y/N). Please…”

“Mhmm,” you agreed without hesitation, cupping your lover’s cheek and kissing him with growing reckless abandon.

He was unequivocally smitten by your ardent claim to his lips, groaning lewdly into the kiss as he began to fuck your desperately pulsating pussy. His grip on you tightened, focusing solely on ravaging your walls until you were on the verge of screaming his praise.

“Hah, that’s it. Goddamn it, I’m gonna fucking ruin you,” he takes your lower lip between his teeth roughly, plunging ruthlessly and chasing his impending orgasm. “You can take it, you can take it, yeah… you better fucking cum all over me or else, I swear…”

You reeled him in with a firm tug of his dark purple locks, nearly crying in pleasure onto his tongue intermingling with yours. Moaning and whimpering like a whore, you clutched onto your lover like your life depended on it. “O-Oh my god, Scara, shit, I’m cumming! I’m… mmph, f-fucking c-cumming…!”

Scaramouche pounded his cock into your sopping release, a guttural groan escaping him as he generously coated your spasming walls with loads of his hot seed. He kept himself buried in your cum-laden folds, your erotic juices mixing around the base of his cock while he kissed you softly.

“God… you have no idea how much I missed you.”

thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated. my masterlist.

[achilles-rage]

okay but imagine being buck's neighbour, and showing up to his apartment one night because you're sad :(

he'd be so eager to comfort you <33

“he broke up with me.” you mumble as soon as buck opens the door, pushing past him and padding into his apartment.

he sees your tear stained cheeks immediately and freezes, and it’s your quiet sniffle that finally breaks him out of his haze. he closes the door and turns on his heel, following you into his space and putting a hand on the small of your back to guide you to the couch.

“what happened?” he asks you in a gentle voice. you turn and look at him again before you sit on the couch, a frown on your pretty lips, and his heart shatters.

“he was cheating on me.” is all you say. you look down, almost embarrassed to admit it, and he has to fight back a scoff. how could your idiot boyfriend possibly find someone better than you? it completely baffles him, but he pushes it to the side; you obviously need to be comforted right now.

he pulls you into a hug, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pushing you flush against him. you let out a shaky breath as he does, reacting immediately by wrapping your arms around his torso. he rubs your back soothingly as you cry softly into his chest, and his heart clenches. he wishes so badly that he could take your pain away, or better yet, that he could teach your ex boyfriend a lesson. but, you’re more important right now.

“you need anything?” he whispers against your ear, resting his cheek against the top of your head. you sniffle before you speak up, lifting your chin to look up at him.

“do you have any tea?” you whisper in a groggy voice. he smiles softly, and nods, and then releases you from his arms begrudgingly.

“you go sit. i’ll make some for you.” you nod, then sit on the couch, bringing your feet up onto the couch and crossing your legs.

as he makes your tea, he tries not to think about how badly he wants to kiss you. how badly he wants to help you forget about your ex. but, he knows he can’t, not yet. he’ll have to wait a little while, as not to take advantage of your fragile state.

after a couple of minutes he returns with two mugs, handing one to you and placing the other on the coffee table. you thank him softly, then take a small sip before you move to set yours beside his. he sits beside you, resting his arm behind you on the back of the couch.

“come here.” he urges you softly, and you oblige immediately, leaning against him rather than the arm of the couch. all you want right now is physical contact, and you relax into his embrace. he smiles to himself as you rest against him, fighting the urge to pull you right onto his lap and kiss your tears away.

he knew he had to have you the first time he saw you. you had just moved into the apartment beside his, and you came to his door with a sheepish smile on your face, apologizing profusely about any disturbance your dad and brother may have caused while arguing as they were helping you move in.

you were a soft, sweet thing, and so so pretty. and he was hooked.

after that, he did everything to keep running into you, and eventually became your friend. the only problem was your stupid boyfriend, who he quite frankly, didn’t think deserved you.

“do you want to talk about it?” he asks after a few moments of silence. he feels you shake your head against his shoulder, and he hums softly in response. you just need some company right now, and he’s more than happy to stay right here.

“can we just, stay here for a while.” you whisper. he nods, mumbling a quick “of course” as he rubs his thumb over your shoulder, pulling you even closer to him. he grabs the tv remote beside him and turns on the tv, putting on a random show to help keep your mind off of your idiot ex.

before long, your eyes flutter shut, your steady breathing signalling to him that you’ve fallen asleep. he stays in the same position for a while, then lowers the volume of the tv to almost zero, and slowly and gently maneuvers himself off the couch. he lowers you to lay on the couch, making sure your head is on a pillow, then covers you with a blanket. the last thing he wants is for you to wake up cold or uncomfortable.

he watches your sleeping form for a minute before he finally turns and makes his way up to his bedroom. one day, you’ll be sleeping in his bed with him. he's sure of it. but today, he’s perfectly happy that you’re sleeping on his couch. in his apartment. because that means that you ran to him while you were in pain. that you came to him to make you feel better. and that makes his heart swell with hope.

you’re going to be his one day. he just knows it.

notes: likes/comments/reblogs would be much appreciated if you liked this<33

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[hxltic]

if you’re writing , pls do konig x reader and the reader is a cry baby

Cry baby as in like sexually?? i got you

König is horrible at teasing you, frankly because he gives in himself. Never has he slapped the tip along your folds, or made you grind on him to ruffle your own mental—but today, he has brought you to your breaking point. all you’ve wanted all day was him.

He finally returns to you, and the first thing you did was hug him around the neck. Both your legs swung up to the top of his hips so he could carry you away. Once ridden of the day and full to his stomach, König finds you in the bedroom in all your needy glory, pleading for him but unwilling to disturb his peace or alone time after the day’s mission.

He teased like never before. Even going as far to play with your dripping pussy with his big fingers, dipping it into the wetness and rolling it around your clit. You don’t know what made you this way, and you were excited at just the thought of your mysterious hunk of a man coming home to you.

But not this. You begged and waited (impatiently) for his gratitude. He flattened his tongue so you could grind on the warm sensation, but with each hand under your knee on display for him, it literally wasn’t possible to move because of his strength. At this point you were so frustrated you probably could cry.

“Kö please, what did I do? I w-won’t do it again I swear,” you attempt, asking for forgiveness at you don’t even know what. Truthfully you hadn’t done anything wrong, but even after given colonel position, you’re still the only one he feels genuinely in charge of like this. He never thought he cared until the high he got from hearing you whine for him came along. You don’t want anyone else. Just him.

On that thought, once he inserted himself, his pace was unbelievably slow. König never prided himself on his self-control but he knew his size, and had he went any faster you would’ve came on the spot.

“‘m sorry, faster please,” you tried again. “I’ve been waiting for you all day!” Already on the verge of tears as your nails dig crescents into his muscled back, when he finally gives you what you want, you lose your mind.

Nothing was slow. Almost a signification of flipping the switch, he throws you over to your stomach effortlessly. He spreads your legs and brings you to your elbows with your ass in the air, then splits you open. It doesn’t take long before your hips start to bruise.

“Wait wait-“ König hears faintly, but he knows that’s far from what you want. He was correct because you cum immediately after. He feeds off the sight of your ass bouncing and rippling off him. His only responses are grunts.

“It’s what you wanted right,” his accent still thick and releasing words he wouldn’t even think of saying regularly, “you waited all day for this?”

Now deep in you and the ecstasy, it’s like you’ve switched roles. He technically was edging himself too. He was rock hard and heavy through his pants, all at your pretty voice and begs.

Soon apologies start flying out of his mouth, you being almost too lost in the euphoria to hear them at all. “Liebling, you feel so good-I’m not sure if I can stop now.”

“Kö you’re gonna-“ is all that comes out in your short breaths.

He replies, “I won’t, I won’t liebe,” as if he knows what you’re going to say, even though he doesn’t. He’s not thinking about much right now. As if to make what you were going to say worse, he lifts your shoulders and grabs your breasts to hold you up and crane you back, your hair falling between the two of you and your head to his neck.

The new position calls for a different spot inside of you and he’s lucky he hasn’t short circuited.

“…break me…half,” is all he heard. He’s too lost at your slick cunt gripping him tight, to hear the sniffles. He does look down though, and spots a tear about to fall down the path of the others. The only reason it doesn’t is because you’re basically upside down.

“I’m sorry,” is all he can say, and despite how sweet he is, it doesn’t sound genuine. Especially not after his hips chase into your entrance like it’s heaven.

“König, cum, again,” you choke out beside a sob, but König is in too much pleasure to feel bad.

“Huh,” he questions. It doesn’t come out as such; more like he’s physically present but isn’t actually asking.

“I’m cumming,” you repeat, and not long after do you hiccup.

There’s a second of silence, then, “I know,” he glances down in pity and bliss. “Your smile is hard to beat but this is far better.”

He never thought he’d like to see you cry, which he doesn’t, but sexually seems to be a different story. They were steaming now, just before your eyes squeezed shut.

“Oh my god,” you whimper, and tighten around him, eliciting a deep groan.

[folkloresthings]

BECAUSE I LIKED A BOY / CL16.

in which the world’s favourite pop princess becomes tangled in the life of a certain formula one driver, flipping her entire world upside down.

( charles leclerc x singer!au )

track one: lonesome. track two: fast times. track three: nonsense. track four: opposite. track five: how many things. track six: bad for business.

✩⡱ warnings: cursing

despite being the one to have sent the message, you could only stare at the screen of your phone as it rang, charles’ name lighting up, a picture you’d taken of him filling the screen. just before it could ring off, you pressed the green button and held it to your ear. neither of you spoke for a moment, just soft breathing against the speaker.

“hi,” you whispered, breath held in your chest, wondering if he was really there. you didn’t even know if you wanted to speak to him. hell, you didn’t know how you were feeling — only that you were falling madly in love one minute, and heartbroken the next.

“hello, ma cherie,” charles’ unmistakable accent filled your senses, allowing that breath you were holding to be let out. even now, he was using that silly pet name that made you smile. frankly, the love you felt for him hadn’t really gone away, despite what he’d done. you’d only wished it had never happened, and life could go on.

“lewis came to see me. he explained what happened, but i want to hear it from you.” trying your best to keep your voice steady, your knuckles grip at the bedsheets under you. you could hear him sigh on the other side, a long breath.

“i— didn’t mean for any of this to happen. fuck. i was drunk, too drunk to realise what she was trying to do. i probably should have shut her down sooner, but i wasn’t thinking,” he told you quietly. his voice caught, and you knew then he was crying. half of your heart yearned to comfort him, the other to shake him firmly. “i went looking for you after, but lily told me you’d left. so i tried to catch up, but she kept fucking following me. i had to get security to do something about it.”

you swallowed hard, a hundred daggers lining your throat. what were you supposed to say? if you listened to your heart, you would forgive him in an instant. you’d book a flight to wherever he was racing that weekend and let him bundle you up in his arms, take you to bed and make you forget it all. but you’d been throat a lot. you had to be smart, strong — more than just a lovesick girl.

“i’ve been let down so many times, charles. and i was so blind, i didn’t think you would do it too,” you were both crying, his soft sniffles filling your speaker. “i can’t just… pretend this never happened.”

“you shouldn’t have to. but — i can’t lose you, y/n. shit, you’re the first good thing i’ve had in a long time.”

you choked on a sob, praying he hadn’t heard it. he was sweet, so awfully and cruelly sweet, and it wasn’t at all fair. despite his recent mistakes, he scored five stars every time.

“maybe we rushed into this,” you pondered, and you could practically hear him shaking his head. “i shouldn’t have let you think my heart was ready for all of this. after austin i… i should have waited a little while.”

“y/n…”

“maybe we just need a little time. to figure ourselves out.”

he sighed, knowing he shouldn’t battle you on this. no matter how he wanted to beg you on his knees and make everything better again. “three months.”

“what?” you replied.

“it’s three months until the grand prix final, the last race, and until your finished touring. i’ll leave you alone until then, but i’ll set aside a paddock pass for you there. if you want to trust me then, come. please.” his offer feels terribly gallant, respectful of your feelings, that it brings a smile onto your face.

“alright. three months.”

INSTAGRAM.

liked by niallhoran, lewishamilton, and 900,231 others

yourusername if i’m just writing happy songs, will anybody sing along?

view all 438,927 comments

joeyking who’s lady and who’s the tramp

⤷ yourusername i think we both know the answer to that

user tbh i preferred charles with charlotte than her

⤷ user no i’ve been waiting for someone to agree w me

landonorris setting the last picture as your contact pic rn

user team y/n or team charles take ur vote

⤷ user is this all you people have to talk about? shes her own person and was famous for years before she got involved with him

user tours almost over 🥲

⤷ yourusername 3 months 🥲🥲🥲

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ynnews the singular tour is almost over!!!! it’s been such a good few months, we’ve seen y/n go through so much but we’ve also watched her grow 🥺 so very proud of her. fingers crossed for new music & another tour soon!

view all 5,271 comments

user i wasn’t able to go to any of the shows but i have LOVED watching all of the videos of her performing

user the fact taylor, madison, maisie, gracie and olivia all flew to europe just to perform with her when she was in a bad place 😭

yourusername BABY 🫶🤍 this is so so sweet. but it’s you guys that have made this tour, coming out every night and singing along to every word. i love you all more than anything in this world.

⤷ user MOM I LOVE YOU

TWITTER.

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yourusername guys 🥺 we won all four nominated categories i could cry. but seriously, thank you all so much for your continued support and love. there’s so many people i could thank, but i won’t get round to them all. you know who you are. thank you ❤���

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taylorswift there’s no one more deserving 🫶

adele 👑👑👑

user GRAMMY WINNER Y/N

harrystyles congrats love!!

user she made it 🥺🥺🥺

lewishamilton my girl !! roscoe says well done 🤍

honeymoon baby girl i’m so proud

user the universe giving her back what she deserves 🙌🙌🙌

IMESSAGE.

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[livinggxd3adgirl]

synopsis— this is a part 2 of “what’s that supposed to mean?”

a/n— I did not expect so many people to like the first part and want a 2nd part .I thought it was going to going to flop. But thank you guys sm! As always there may be errors so pls forgive me. Likes and reblogs are always greatly appreciated!

It had been about 2 weeks since you left gojo. You had been staying at his best friends, geto’s house. You were wearing getos clothes nice all of your was at your apartment that gojo is currently living in. Gojo had called you a few times, but you never answered. You weren’t sure what he wanted with you, but frankly, you didn't care what he had to say. You sat on the sugurus couch. The house filled with silence. All you could hear was the sound of your beating heart. Your mind ran through what happened that night over and over again until you couldn't even remember your own name.

you were snapped out of your thoughts about gojo when you heard the door click open and getos soft voice. "Hey .. im back, I brought us some food. " Geto had been trying to comfort you with all your favorite foods and just be by your side during this hard time.

"Thanks, suguru.. really, " you gave him a weak smile. Suguru set down his keys before he set the bag of food down on the coffee table in front of you.

"Listen.. I know that you're still heart broken about gojo and all, but he's coming here later. He said he wanted to talk to me about something. " he sounded reluctant to tell you that Gojo was coming and for good reason.

You nod your head as he spoke. He sucked in a deep breath before you spoke. Your throat was itchy because of all the crying you have been doing for the past 2 weeks. "I understand geto, ill leave after I eat." Your weak smile pulled at Geto's heart strings. He truly couldn't reason why he even let you stay so long. Geto felt bad for you, of course, but there was something else he felt for you, but he just couldn't understand what it was.

Before geto could stop himself, he quickly spoke, "You dont have to leave, sweetheart..." he gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. "You can stay in my bedroom while he's here. I can't fathom letting that idiot drive you out of here, too. " You finally let out a real smile as you sniffle. For the first time in 2 weeks, you felt like you finally had someone that was on your side.

"Should we eat?" You ask whike smiling. Geto, let's go of your hand as he starts working the bag open.

2 HOURS LATER

You and geto had eaten and watched movies for a while before gojo texted suguru he was in his way. "Stay here, sweetheart. I'll come get you myself, " Geto reassured you as he gave your shoulder a soft squeeze.

"I'll be here waiting.. and geto thank you, really I'm very grateful for everything you have done for me. " Geto couldn't fathom how stupid Gojo was for letting someone like you out of his sight. God, if you were his, he would never let you leave his apartment.

Sugurus train of thought was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell ringing. He quickly said his goodbyes and answered his front door.

You sat on Getos bed and stared at the closed bedroom door. The mere thought of gojo being just a few feet away from you made you want to throw up. As time passed, it felt like hours, but in reality, it had only been a few minutes.

Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard gojo and getos' voice gradually get closer and closer to the door. You can hear geto say "cmon dude don't go in there really just go wait in the living room ill get it for you".

Before Geto could even stop him, Gojo flung the door open. His eyes immediately widen as he sees you sitting comfortably on Sugurus bed.

"what the fuck are you doing here?"

edit!: prt 3

tags!! @ourfinalisation @96jnie @qashmer @sugurugirlie @gollumsmygel @ritzes28

[awniie]

HELLO KITTY

ㅤㅤㅤ⭑ summary: sukuna breaks your favorite stuffed animal

content: fem!reader, pathetic attempt at fluff n angst , reader cries when he breaks the stuffie, mean!sukuna-ish, readers gets called a baby (derogatory), reader is called small, modern au, implied sex, proofread to an extent

ㅤㅤㅤ⭑ notes: I’m not sure what compelled me to write this, like at all !! also I tried not to refer to him as a boyfriend in this cus I don’t see him as one :sob:

“what..is that?” Sukuna asked as he entered the room. He was talking about the little cat toy you were snuggling with. You held it tightly against your chest, the blue light of your phone casting onto the dolls white cotton covering.

“Oh her? It’s hello kitty!” You exclaimed, quite proudly for a grown woman with a cat doll between her chest. You shut off your phone and roll over to show him the toy. Sukuna snatched it from off your body and inspected the…thing. It was white and fuzzy with black sewn eyes and a matching butter-colored nose. As if that wasn’t trivial enough, the toy wore a tiny little pair of overalls and a small pink bow ontop its ear. He wrinkled his nose in disgust, It was the epitome of naivety and childishness, and it made him sick. Curiously, He tested the elasticity of the toy, pulling and stretching her limbs in awful ways.

“Kuna, be careful! You’ll break her.” You warned, arms reaching for your poor kitty. You quickly remembered why you were hesitant to show him the doll earlier, that your hello kitty was small and delicate and sukuna was quite the opposite, and now your worst fears coming true. Your protests fell on ignorant ears, and the sickening sound of ripping fabric filled them instead. Scratchy white poly-fil spewed in the air. Your boyfriend stood in front of you, a look of mild surprise played on his features as he held the now-headless hello kitty.

“Huh.” he murmured before throwing it on the floor sending more fluff scattered across the room.

“Sukuna! What is wrong with you?” You accused, rushing over to where your beheaded kitty laid. He couldn’t believe how quick you left off the bed, cradling the ripped doll in your hands.

“It’s not my fault it was made so cheaply. Plus, you too old to be playing with dolls anyway.” He said, quickly disregarding the whole thing.

“No! That was my hello kitty, you had no right to break it.” You told him between sniffles, holding the two pieces of your hello kitty in each of your palms. Warm tears ran down your cheeks and your nose reddened.

“Do you see yourself right now? You’re acting like a fucking baby.” Sukuna retorted, annoyed at your reaction. He honestly didn’t mean to break it, but what’s done is done and you were a fool for thinking that lashing out at him could change that. “It’s just a child’s toy, get over it.”

“You are sick. I hate you!” You yelled, holding the pieces of your broken toy close and leaving the room, not before slamming the door with teeth-rattling force.

Sukuna sighed and rolled his eyes. He didn’t expect you to get so animated over a cartoon cat replica, but then again human emotions were much more sporadic and quite frankly annoying. He gave your outburst no more than another thought. He knew you well enough to know you’d be back soon, crying and whining and begging him to talk to you and give you some attention. He’d just have to patient until your came your to senses..

..Or at least that’s what he thought. Your boyfriend seemly underestimated your ability to hold a grudge. You hadn’t truly spoken to him in 3 days, the most he’s gotten out of you being “uh huh” or “no”. He pretended your coldness didn’t bother him, but it did. A lot more then it should’ve. The pointed shoulder-checks, the refusal to make any eye contact, leaving the room whenever he walked in. It really bothered him. He knew that the only way to get back your favor was with probably some form of atonement. But, he has his own pride to worry about and he refused to be the one to grovel at your feet and apologize. No it would be you. He was Sukuna Ryomen and he would not bend to the will of a foolish mortal girl.

But, a week without speaking to your other can be unbearable, even for a callous curse such as Sukuna. After being with you so long, he found himself having a sort longing for you. Why would he though? He didn’t need anyone, especially not you. If anything, you needed him…so why weren’t you acting like it?

Even though you were mad at him, outwardly you seemed fine. You were doing everything on your own, pretending as if this giant curse of a man didn’t even exist. You still laughed at stuff on your phone, you still ate your favorite foods and enjoyed yourself, while Sukuna clearly wasn’t.

He hated the silence that he had grown unfamiliar with after being with you. You seemed to never shut up before, but now? Sukuna found himself longing for your annoying voice and pestilential chattiness.

He missed your body. He missed your delicate fingers that you would intertwine with his rough, pointed ones whenever you went to the store with him. He’d express so many times that he didn’t like you doing that and he’d “cut your fingers off” if you did it again. But you always did, and it never happened.

He hated the absence of your warmth. He had become so accustomed to your late night snuggling, he had trouble sleeping without it. One particular lonesome night, he watched you sleep from the door you always left slightly cracked. He longed to be next to you, to feel your faint breath tickling his neck, to run his hands down the curve of your spine, to have your sleep-mucked face be the first thing he sees in the morning.

So, that’s why he was now on the couch, hissing and cursing as he attempted to put the stitch through the tiny hole of the needle. He was trying to sew your god-damned hello kitty back together, which proved to be a much harder task than he thought initially. Sukuna had watched you do it many times, stitching whatever article of clothing he had ripped off of you the night before. You made it look simple, and of course you were just a little human. Nothing you did would take much skill, right?

“Fuck!” He hissed through clenched teeth and he stabbed the pin through the pad of his finger. A bead of dark-red blood swole and eventually dripped down his finger. Watching the blood drop made him think of you. You would’ve taken his tattooed hand and cooed at the injury, leaving a kiss on the stabbed finger. He always thought you were stupid for making such a display over a little nick, but now? He felt some sort of…emptiness without your comfort. Sukuna quickly chased those thoughts away, telling himself that he was only doing this for his own benefit, not for you. No, he’d never do something like this for you.

-

“Kuna…?” You called, the moniker sounding foreign on your tongue after a long week of ignoring the man to whom it belonged too. His head quickly snapped as he watched you come into the room, treading lightly as if the tension could break with a footstep too heavy. In your arms was the patched up doll, looking a little limp but still in one piece.

“What do you want?” He asked, his tone glacial, suggesting that he didn’t care. But he knew he cared a lot, a lot more than he should’ve.

Just a few minutes ago, Sukuna creeped into the bedroom, ensuring sure you wouldn’t hear him over the sound of a running shower. Afte the coast was clear, he meticulously placed the doll on your bed, propped up on a pillow, the hello kitty freshly washed and sewn. He relished on his work, shoving away the feeling of…anxiety? Then he waited and waited for you, hurrying back to his place on the couch only when he heard the shower faucet stop running.

“Did you…fix my doll?” You asked, leaving the question hanging in the heavy air. You avoided eye contact as you sat across from him, fiddling with the hello kitty’s stubby arms.

“What does it look like? It’s fixed, isn’t it?” He retorts, gesturing to the crude stitches that encircled that dolls neck. He sounded pissed off, but he was far from it. He missed your voice, even if you were wasting it by asking him stupid questions.

“Oh,” was all you were able to say. Sukuna rolled his eyes, mimicking your “oh”.

You stumbled with your speech, trying to find the right response. In all honesty, you were shocked. “T-Thank you.” You murmured, your voice a little louder now.

“yeah, whatever. Now you have your doll, so you can stop your damn sulking.” He muttered, waving his hand in dismal. The two of you stayed like that for a moment, careful not to break the delicate silence.

Warmth bloomed inside of your chest. Yeah the stitching was clusmy, revealing his lack of delicacy, but somehow it felt better than him buying a new stuffed animal. There was something that was almost thoughtful about it, and sukuna ryomen was anything but the sort.

He couldn’t believe himself either. Had he really done that, for you? It was impossible. He could’ve easily forced you to speak to him, or lashed out at you for being a brat. So why didn’t he? He sat there, waiting for the repercussions of his actions to hit him. Disgust. anger. anything. but strangely, it never came. Instead he felt a sense of relief and lets out a breath he had no idea he had been holding.

You then slipped into his arms, your ear resting against his surprisedly-existent heartbeat. The hello kitty was still in your grasp, and you fiddled into between your two hands. He didn’t say anything, because he wasn’t even sure that words would come out of his mouth. You felt so nice on him again, and he placing his around you, never wanting to let you go.

As the two of you laid there, distressing fact came crashing down on him. You had broke him. You contorted his barbarous heart into ways that no stich could fix.

[justporo]

Still more fluffy relationship headcanons for Astarion and Tav

You guys seem to really like these, so I'm keeping them going for as long as I can. And - I know I said I couldn't do requests atm - but when (if?) I run out of ideas how about you can send me prompts for headcanons on specific topics?

Here we go though, more small ideas and moments for these two idiots!

Astarion is a tease, always flirting with you (for the most part), always kissing you or touching you, always whispering something dirty directly into your pointy ear; sometimes even doing that flat out while you're out in public... with people around.

Deep down he's always wondering though when the day will come that you don't want to be with him anymore; you know that and you try your absolute best to remind him every moment of every day that you want to be with him forever, slowly working to turn the "when" into an "if" and then making him forget altogether

You are basically a street cat, but Astarion? He's a man of culture! And he loves to take you out and frankly just goddamn educating you

He takes you to museums, telling you in incredible detail about the artworks and the displays because he knows his history, also - he's incredibly smart; you enjoy not only him enjoying himself talking about stuff he likes but also just eat it up, eager to learn about stuff you never had the chance to before

Dancing: That's another thing. He knows all the dances: from the silly court dances Wyll showed you once, to the much more interesting and intimate ones where you're flush against one another's bodies

He teaches you, being so close to him, you can't stop fawning, holding you like you're something incredibly fragile and precious while moving you ever so passionately

You've never done this and are incredibly insecure at the beginning, but "Don't worry, love, let me hold you and I'll guide you, you just look pretty" - but then you pick it up quickly and it becomes one of your favourite pastimes with him

You have artful skills of your own though: since you're a former thief and had to stake out targets and places sometimes for weeks on end, you had a lot of time on your hands and taught yourself to draw a long time ago and drew whatever you had to observe: a nice compromise between keeping your eyes on whatever mattered and still having something to do

So, you finally draw him, something you'd promised him a long time ago when you merely had started travelling together; you spend a whole night just to get the first portrait right and Astarion gets uneasy because can't you just let him have a little sneak-peek?

When you show him the drawing, he's just speechless - "What, even more magnificent than you remembered?" you tease him, but you see how his fingers are tensing holding the paper and there's a single tear on his cheek when he looks and smiles at you broadly "No, love, just flustered about how you don't seem to get my chin right"; you call him a liar softly and he sniffles and draws you in for a really long hug and he thanks you deeply

Ah, I also love using these to sneak in facts and ideas for my Tav and helping me flesh out a backstory and more details for their story and relationship. Also don't mind me sprinkling a little angst on there.

Of course, the drawing idea has been imagined many times before and rightfully so, Astarion deserves it. But it's... I haven't drawn really in a loooong time but he really makes me want to give a portrait ago. I had to get it out for personal reasons.