#this sounds way worse than it is i just have anxiety lmao

[fvnnythiings]

i have a headcanon that i’ve been mulling over for a long, long while now that’s lowkey special & hard to let go of for me but im afraid it’ll make ppl less likely to want to interact FHSHSJSKS

[no-144444]

guilt tripping- o.piastri

summary: oscar asks something of you that you know you can't do. you do it anyway and it ends in you two almost breaking up. almost.

pairing: oscar piastri x fem! chronic illness! reader

a/n: hey yall, I just broke two ribs (lol) and got diagnosed with a chronic illness (lmao) so I might not be posting as frequently- just dealing with it physically and mentally so yah 😹

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“I don’t know if I can go,” you sighed, feeling even worse. 

“That’s alright,” he assured you, but you could hear the way his excitement depleted and his mood lowered. 

“M-maybe I can work something out, I don’t want to leave you alone,” your guilt grew everyday, this wasn’t healthy for either of you. 

“I don’t want you over-exerting yourself,” he spoke softly into the phone. “I’ll just ask mum if she has any friends that want to go or something. She always brings a million people with her.”

“I don’t want to leave you hanging Oscar. Melbourne is a big race. I’d be happy to come over like a week before, and then come to the race once I’ve had a few days to heal,” you bargained. A 22 hour connecting flight was not something you’d ever wanted to do. You couldn’t do it. You knew the pain would be too bad, yet you still stood there, offering it anyway. “And then I’d come for the race on Sunday, or just small bits on all the days.”

“Really?” his voice picked up, excited now. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure Osc, I love seeing you race,” your smile was more of a grimace than anything, but still, the guilt in your chest lessened as you listened to Oscar speak animatedly about the race weekend, while your anxiety ran through the roof. You couldn’t do all the things he wanted you to do, you never could. This had been a problem at the beginning of your relationship, every time he’d plan a date that wasn’t dinner or a movie, you’d have to break the news that a 15 kilometre hike wasn’t something you’d be able to do on a whim. Things like that took planning, physio, and preparation. Your chronic illness was no joke, and had limited you since you were a teenager. In the past few years he’d gotten much better at everything, from helping you with your physio exercises, attending pilates classes with you, knowing what to do on bad pain days, and always looking out for you in public. You knew he was just getting away with himself, and you didn't want to disappoint, so you agreed to it all, hoping against hope that it wouldn’t be a bad week of pain or flare-ups wise. 

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You got into Melbourne and sobbed when you got in the car. Thankfully, it was Hattie picking you up, so she just held your hand as you silently cried, the joint and too much to bear. You went straight to bed as Hattie explained to the rest of the house that you were exhausted, and Oscar took it at face value. You usually get extremely tired after long days, and you’d just had a 22-hour day of travel. 

“I’ll go check on her-” he started, desperate to see you but Hattie cut him off. 

“NO!” she squeaked, trying to not sound suspicious. Oscar raised an eyebrow. “She’s really tired and she’s already gone to sleep.”

“Yeah, well I’m tired so I’m going to bed,” he explained, stretching then yawning. 

“Osc,” Hattie sighed, knowing she had to tell him. “She’s not… alright. She can’t do 22 hour travel days like you or I can. She has Lupus and she’s still trying to figure out her medication, so it hurts all the time. She cried from the airport to here, all to support you because you asked her to, and she feels guilty every single time she can’t say yes. She’s done real damage to herself by coming here. I want you to understand that, do you understand that?” 

Oscar nodded, because the other option was breaking down into tears. Yes, he’d felt guilty that he couldn’t be there to take care of you while travelling, and he knew he was asking a lot of you when he asked. The guilt settled deep in his stomach and made him nauseous, but still he continued on to his bedroom where you were sleeping peacefully. He could see the puffy eyes, the red nose, the open bottles of medication on the nightstand. He wrapped an arm around your waist, another in your hair and pulled you as close as possible, whispering teary sorrys into your ear. 

When you woke up the next morning, you knew what you had to do. This wasn’t fair on either of you, and you needed to make a change. You quickly (but silently) got up, and started to leave the room, but Oscar grabbed ahold of your hand before you could leave. 

“Please don’t sneak out on me,” he begged, sitting up. He looked wrecked, puffy eyes, red rose- had he been crying? God, had you made him cry? 

“Osc, what’s wrong?” you asked, concern clear as day on your face as you cupped his face with your hands.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I knew I was asking too much when I asked you to come here, I’m so sorry.”

Your heart tightened in your chest. “Osc, I’m alright, I was just tired last night and-”

“Hattie told me,” his voice was deep, deeper than usual, and he pressed a gentle kiss to your hand. “And I’m so sorry.”

“Osc, I could’ve said no if I didn’t think I was able for it,” you tried to reassure him but he shook his head. 

“Y/n, you did say no and I didn’t take it as an answer,” he scoffed. 

You were stunned into silence. “I think we need to have a talk about us, Osc.”

He nodded, taking your hands in his. 

“This isn’t fair on you. I know I can't control my illness, and neither can you. It sucks, but it’s a fact. I wish I could be there for every single race and cheer you on with the other girls, but I can’t. It’s not in the cards for me right now, and I don’t know when it will be. Oscar, I love you so much, and you’ve been with me through everything and I know you deserve someone who can always be there for you, and I’m not that person right now. I love you but I know it’s not enough,” You finally looked at him and he was biting his lip as tears streamed down his cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head and stood up, dropping your hands as he paced his bedroom. “You know how much I love you, don’t you?” he asked and you nodded as you held back more tears. “So you know that I still feel your support even when we’re in different time zones or on different continents, right? You know that I value you being in as little pain as possible more than being at the barricade after a race, right? You know that I fucking love you more than I love racing, right? Y/n, I’ve been here the entire time, since we were 14 years old. You’re the reason I get in the car, you make me better, all the time it’s just you. I plan on being with you for my whole life, Y/n. I want to be there for everything. I plan to sit there through every appointment about medication until you find the one that actually helps you, I plan on being there for every day where you don’t feel up to it, I plan on being there for you, always. I never want to let go of you, and yeah, it is nice to be able to see you after a race, and I know that because fucking facetime exists. If you still want to break up because I fucked up by asking you to come here, go ahead, but don’t ever think that I’m without because I’m with you. I am so in love with you, Y/n. I mean it. I want to marry you one day, I want a family with you, I want to be old with you so we get to reminisce on the good ol’ days and make some more while we have time. ‘The good ol’ days’ will be the days I spend with you. More than any race win, more than any trophy, or than anything. My favourite part about a race weekend is coming home because I know no matter what my result was, you’ll be there with open arms, loving me anyways. You’re more than enough for me.”

You crossed the room and wrapped your arms around him, crying into his hoodie as he held you. “I love you too.”

After a few moments of both of you calming down, he finally spoke. “Can you forgive me for being such an asshole?” he asked, wiping his eyes. 

You nodded, a small smile on your face. “I can, can you forgive me for being such an idiot?”

He chuckled. “You’re no idiot,” he picked you up and gently placed you back on the bed lying beside you. “I love you.” 

“I love you too.”

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[jaggedamethyst]

easy (part 2) (bucky barnes x gn!reader)

content: secret relationship/established relationship, miscommunication/misunderstanding, angst, self-doubt, mentions of death, cheating (kind of), not proofread

notes: part two this this...good luck lmao (a short one but it’s the right length i fear)

main masterlist

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

You’d been woken up by the sounds of knocks on your door. They started off normal and quickly became more frantic…aggressive, even. 

The sound of your name made you sit up on the floor. Suddenly, the door pushed open—revealing Bucky there. His hair was disheveled, clearly having run his hands through it. He hadn’t bothered with saying hi, kneeling in front of you and looking you over.

He cupped your face, “Are you okay?” He pressed into you more, nudging you to sit up. “What are you doing down here?”

You reached out to him, making sure you hadn’t tricked yourself, that he was really here. 

He continued, “What happened? Sharon said you disappeared and she couldn’t find you.” 

Somehow Bucky was missing the point. You could only blink at that, knowing that his energy was so misplaced. Why would he care about you right now when this entire relationship had so quickly gone awry? Why would he focus on you being on the floor when he ruined this—him. 

Bucky spoke again, rubbing his hands up and down your arms. “I called you a shit ton, where’s your phone?” 

“Don’t know.” 

He paused, confused at your first and only words to him being so carelessly spoken. “Steve said he saw you—that you just…ran.“ 

You nodded. You had ran. Swift motions out of the building and to your place weren’t enough to erase the imagery in your brain. The way Bucky had seemed so carefree—so happy. With someone who wasn’t you, most importantly. A woman who looked so remarkably different than you. 

Your skin and body physically repelled him—pushing him away without a thought. Moving to stand, you watched his face twist in hurt. 

“How was recon?” 

“It was fine…am I missing something?” 

You ignored the question, asking your own. “You said Steve told you he saw me?” He nodded. “Did he know who I was?”

“Course he knew who you were—he’s my best friend.” 

You bought your in front of you, wringing them together. “Does she?” The question was meant to quell your anxiety, but instead made the prospect of him cheating infinitely harder to swallow. You looked at him expectantly, an answer seeming to escape him—despite you both knowing what happened that evening. 

“Does who?” 

“Natasha…Romanoff…the one you went on recon with.” You moved your head as you slowly spoke the words—breaking it down for him. “Does she know about me? About us?” 

“You know that we keep this a secret for your safety. We’ve talked about this a thousand times-“ 

“No, you keep it a secret and you've talked about it.” You moved to sit on the couch, “I agreed because I love you and I understand the stress of your job. But what I saw today,” you shook your head and looked up at him across the room. “That wasn’t a secret for my benefit. It was for yours.” 

“That’s just not true.” Bucky moved from his spot, finally, stepping across the room to sit beside you. “You have to understand my perspective on this. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I was the cause of anything happening to you.”

You twisted your entire face, staring up with an incredulous look. “Did you stop to consider how much worse it would be to have to live with the knowledge of you doing god knows what every time you’re not here?” You paused, feeling his hands attempt to wrap around you. Moving back instantly, you continued, “What happened with her? What haven’t I seen?” 

“Nothing.” Bucky waved his hands in front of him, emphasizing his words. “Nothing happened-“ 

“I saw you. Sharon showed me the feed, Bucky.” 

His face glazed over in realization—not that you had seen him with her, but that you had seen him with her. Bucky’s head started to move on its own, searching for how to make sense of this for you. “That wasn’t what it looked like.” 

A huff escaped you. Without a second thought you got up and moved toward the door, Bucky right on your trail. “If we’re gonna act like this you can just go.” You put a hand on the door handle, raising a brow at him. “You of all people know I won’t sit here and look stupid. Not when I’ve already wasted so much time waiting for you.” 

A moment passed, the reality of what you were saying lingering in the room. The two of you had talked about it before, how you’d waited so long for someone like him to appear. There’d been years of self discovery and “loving yourself first” before Bucky showed you that someone else could. When that happened, you settled for the relationship existing in its very specific confines—under the lock and key of his life’s restrictions. Even then, he’d get a call; people needed him. Bucky would go away for however long, and you’d wait. The amount of time spent yearning for the world to suddenly be quicker for you, for him, was immense. In every instance it seemed that despite the relatively common cosmic occurrences he’d faced, none of Bucky’s opponents could grant your wish—to get the man you loved back to you sooner. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally spoke. You watched his hands ball into a fist, angered with himself. The mechanical whir of his arm filling the empty space. “I don’t feel that way about her.” 

You scoffed at that. He sounded so textbook it was physically making you ill. 

He continued, though, “She’s been my friend for a long time. We spend a lot of time together…and I wanted to tell her about you.” He inhaled, “But I didn’t. I don’t know why.” 

“Did you sleep with her?” 

“Of course not…and she kissed me. I regret making her feel like there was even a slight chance of me seeing her that way—because I don’t. I can’t.” His voice wavered, “Can’t because I only love you.”

He reached a hand out to you and it caused you to move away from him—impossibly closer to the door. 

“Bucky…I don’t think I can do this.” 

“Doll, please-“

You waved a hand, interrupting him, “Wait—just…listen.” You let go of the door, fully looking at him now. “I don’t think I can be with you if it’s like this.” He let you continue, “I know you want to protect me, but all of this has hurt me more than it could’ve ever helped. I feel so removed from you—like I don’t know you outside of our apartment walls.” Sweat had accumulated on your palms, making you realize how anxiety-inducing this had been. “I haven’t felt confident in myself around you in…a while-“

“But-“ 

“Bucky, please.” He nodded, stilling himself in commitment to let you speak. “That’s not your fault…but I think I need space to figure out why that is.” 

Bucky whispered your name, a shakiness on his voice. “I just…can’t stomach the idea of you dead…dying...because of me.” 

“I would’ve.” You moved to open the door. “I think I would’ve been fine facing death as long as everyone knew I loved you first.” You stepped back from the threshold and offered him the space to step out. “But they don’t. Nobody knows except us. That hurts.” 

Bucky didn’t speak as he stepped toward the hall. His entire figure seemed to hang lower than normal, and it pained you to see. You felt the heat of tears in your eyes, but you wouldn’t cry. There was a sort of satisfaction in facing this—breaking up with Bucky. It was always going to happen, you reasoned, so bearing your soul…crying…would’ve been too easy.  

tags (tried to get everyone who asked lol)

@julvrs @shanksstrawhat @vicmc624 @preeyas-world @ilovemcuff @winchestert101 @caity1995 @hereforfun-31 @cjand10 @nadinekr @wintercrows @read-just-cant @behindmygreyeyes @ordelixx @pklol @bookworm3570 @largarei @fairlyfatale @kittenkiryu

[mi-co-uk]

love me not

loner!reader x needy!chris

WARNINGS: use of y/n, language, erm very vague implication of getting a boner lmao. the series itself will contain smut fluff and angst ⋆𐙚

p.s the grammar is wrong but I like it that way coz it feels like a diary entry but if it's distracting I can change it :3

pls enjoy <3

MASTERLIST

prev parts: INTRO

CHAPTER 1 || moon song

CHRIS' POV

"hi," she speaks softly, my entire body relaxing just from the sound of her voice.

holy fuck.

|| EARLIER ||

READER POV

the drive up to chris' house was the most anxiety inducing yet. it's been the longest gap of seeing him since we met - a month of not seeing him in person or even texting. he knows I'm alive. he's parked outside my house every few nights, peering out his car window into my house - the dark outside making me visible through the net curtains.

of course I feel bad. it's not his fault at all. I think the fact I quit my job at the café and began working on my art from home, meant that my fear of the outside got even worse. I don't ever need to leave the house - chris and his brothers are essentially my only friends, my family all off in a different state so only they have to deal with it.

I know matt understands it. that's why I'm more likely to pick up his calls or see him. Nick is happy to just text me which I find a little easier. chris is just - chris. he's full of love but his love language involves being around people all the time, so it's harder for him to understand how he can be my favourite person but also one of the most overwhelming to be around. I have little energy which extremely contrasts me to him - sometimes he makes me feel like a bad person. what kind of friend am I if I struggle to be around them?

the idea of acting stupid make me wants to curl into a ball a sob while chris sees it as his favourite activity - mainly because it makes me laugh. I love who he is, I just want him to always see me in a positive light, which I could completely shatter if I do something awkward in person.

I park on the street outside their house. hesitant to even turn off the engine.

CHRIS' POV

I have my notifications set with a different alert sound for y/n to everyone else. the sound of it becoming a distant memory every day. I was contemplating driving over - maybe knocking on the door this time. the situation doesn't make me mad, just irritated. I'm used to matt staying home while me and nick go out, so to a certain extent I get it. it just felt as bad as a punch in the face when I saw her hanging out with matt after a week of not seeing me - even though I'd invited her out and she told me she was busy. that was the last time I saw her. I think i must've overreacted - not that I'd admit it to anyone's face.

apart from hers if she asked me to.

ive been pathetic even to the point of staring at photos of her. its insane to me that she can be so perfect, despite her anxieties of the outside world. a part of me is confused on why seeing her pictures is enough satisy my hyperactive brain for hours on end. and a more specific part of me enjoys seeing her pictures a little too much.

the hardest part about her being gone is knowing she'll come back. I get so worked up because she's just not here - but I know she just takes a little time. and that's okay- I guess I just wish I could be the exception. but it turns out matt is.

I get restless nights, headaches and a loss of appetite when she's gone for more than a couple weeks. it's hard to process that without a doubt - seeing her at all, just hearing from her puts me in such a deep state of bliss that I don't even care that she was gone for so long. I just want her here. I need her.

my train of thought is interrupted by an alert on my phone - her alert. I hesitate, thinking I'd imagined it. I hear it a second time and immediately scramble to my bedside table and look at my notifications. as soon as I see her contact name, I open up the chat.

- can I come over?

- im really sorry

my head is whirling around with different thoughts. some of me is irritated that it took this long, mixed with the fact that i was at her house only 6 hours ago, but most of me is desperate just to see her. but I don't want her to know just how desperate I am - I don't want to freak her out.

- doors open

is that too casual? shit.

- I have snacks and stuff but we can do whatever

I sound like a fucking idiot. a couple seconds later (which feel like endless minutes) and she's read the messages. I don't expect her to reply but she somewhat does.

- okay im on my way

I breathe a sigh of relief at the fact she's coming over. then I run to the bathroom at the fact she's coming over. she's about a 20 minute drive away so I have about 25 minutes till she arrives at a push. I try and fix my hair which ends up being a pointless battle. I try and regain focus - tugging off my clothes to get in the shower quickly. my brothers would mock me, which is definitely valid, but I have to look my best. luckily, I shaved this morning when I thought I could convince her to meet up. after the shower, I quickly put on better clothes (ones she said i looked good in - probably a year ago now), fixing my hair a bit more in front of the mirror.

I check the time - it's been 25 minutes. she'll be here in a second. shit shit shit. I sit on the edge of my bed trying to calm my nerves and come up with a game plan for acting normal and not like the down-bad idiot that I have been for the entire month she's been gone.

I decide to let nick and matt know that she's coming over - hopefully preventing possible further embarrassment. I get to nicks door but I can hear his white noise from outside so I know he's already asleep. I head back downstairs to go to matts room. I breathe again - desperate not to sound as nervous as I am, before knocking on his door.

"come in!" I hear matt yell over the sound of his PC.

I push open the door working probably too hard to relax my face.

"um, y/n's coming over by the way" he stares at me with a look of surprise. "I just wanted to let you know."

"y' serious?"

"obviously matt I'm fucking serious. just-" I gesture around with my hands - lost for words. "just fuck off. I don't wanna fuck this up and you'd make that really fucking difficult."

"alright alright - fuck this, fuck that, i get it. watch your mouth and get out, kid." I scoff and shut the door on him.

I peer my eyes over to the staircase and she's stood there looking at me, as perfect as ever.

"hi," she speaks softly, my entire body relaxing just from the sound of her voice.

holy fuck.

next part ->

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a/n lowkey but also not lowkey who wants a chapter of chris jerking it to the thought of loner!reader coz I DO. I know there wasn't much plot in this one but I'm setting the sceneee and we'll be getting to the good stuff soon - possibly next chapter wink wink . feel free to send ideas and ask me questionssss I'm also up for criticism coz I'm still learning how to write <3

taglist: @pair-of-pantaloons @oopsiedaisydeer @corspebridedelrey @faiyaz555

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ - mi

[peachglazewrites]

𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚘𝚏 𝚞𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛 ⸙ 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗

𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: abby anderson x f!reader 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: suggestive content, vague medical procedures, nightmares, PTSD 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚜: fluff, making out, angst, angst x2, literal sleeping together, Owen is a good partner, reader is a good friend 𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘: no use of y/n or any reader descriptions 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 10.8k

𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: The one where you do some shopping, Abby has another nightmare, and you have dinner with Mel.

a big huge thank you and shout out to @l-zhk for all the beautiful photomodes of the stadium you've been posting! so much of the worldbuilding is thanks to you ♡ i would be so lost without them and you!!!! 🫶

a/n: hey!! a brief note that christmas is mentioned, and will continue to be mentioned, but i have written for reader to not celebrate it. you can make up any kind of reasoning for this, but my goal was to not discriminate against those who don't observe christmas <3

gifts will still be exchanged around the ‘holiday period’, but i think i made it clear that this is really mel's excuse to give all her friends gifts lmao

thanks!

̗̀➛ masterpost

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ link to fic on ao3 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝙸: XIV

“You’re sure no one can see us from up here—” Abby’s words cut off with a sharp gasp, the large hands on your hips squeezing a bit tighter.

“Mmhm,” you hum against her jaw, trailing soft kisses back up to her lips. “Promise. Used to come here all the time.”

Your lips lock with her own, hands playing with the curls of hair along the nape of her neck that have slipped from her braid. Her lips are rough against yours, chapped and bitten, and you can’t supress the shiver it sends down your spine.

The two of you are up in the bleachers, nestled away in your favourite spot. Well, second favourite. This one is just off from your usual lunch spot, all the way at the very top and in the corner, completely hidden by the WLF banner hanging from the railing above. It’s dark, especially on a rainy day like today, covered by shadow on the balcony. It’s perfect at hiding the way you’re perched on her lap, her hands kneading along the fat of your hips, kissing like a couple of teenagers.

You’d come up here to have lunch, having snuck away from the noise of the caf during your hour-long break. It was peaceful, eating your food to the ambient sounds of the stadium, watching the rain fall heavy on the ground below. It was just what you needed.

It’d been going on three days since Abby had left for assignment, and you were beginning to feel it. The two of you had gone lengths of time longer than this without seeing each other, but that was before you knew that Abby loved you, and so your anxiety around the whole thing has gotten a little bit worse.

You trusted her to take care of herself, trusted her strength and her skills to bring her home to you— but things happen. You know that firsthand.

You’d been tempted to go talk to someone on comms, see if they had any word on the status of her unit, but ultimately decided against it. She was fine. You were going to be fine.

You were just about done with your food when you heard the heavy footfall of boots on the concrete steps. Your eyes met cool blue ones when you looked up, Abby drinking in the sight of you as she climbed the last few steps towards you.

She was home, and by the look of it—wrinkled clothes spattered with heavy drops of rain, muddy boots and pant legs, the butterfly bandage on her forehead—she’d come to see you as soon as she could.

“Bring many girls up here?” She asks teasingly, lips dragging over your own as she pulls back, eyebrow cocked.

Heat creeps up your neck as you stumble over your words, caught off guard by her question. “I—I mean, a few.”

“Huh. Here I thought I was special,” she sighs, just a little bit dramatically, casting her gaze off to the side.

You huff, bringing a hand up to her cheek to guide her face back to yours, pinching the skin between your fingers. “You are special, idiot.” You let go, patting her cheek gently. “I love you, funnily enough.”

Abby’s lips twitch, curling up at the edges. “Yeah? More than…” The look on her face is expectant, waiting for you to fill in the blank.

“Any of them.”

“Not gonna give me any names?” She pulls you closer, shifting you on her lap. “And don’t say Isabella, because I think everyone knows about that one.”

You groan, slumping forward to bump your forehead onto her shoulder. Her shirt is still damp from the rain, the lingering scent of her cologne hidden underneath the smell of wet earth and gunpowder.

“Katie.”

She’s silent for a moment, flipping through her mental rolodex for every single Katie, Kate, and Katherine she knows. “Katie… Katie from Laundry?”

You nod, just the once. “It lasted like, two days before she said she felt like I was taking things ‘too seriously’, then she and Melissa made it official a week later.”

Abby laughs, a lovely rumbling sound that has you clinging onto her just a bit tighter. “Oh my god. Is that why you do your own washing?”

“No,” you say, far too quickly. “… I mean at first—”

That sends her laughing once more as she wraps her arms around your back, holding you flush against her chest. You squirm in her grip, pulling back to look down at her, unamused. “Are you having fun laughing at my girl problems?”

Her laughter dies down into a warm chuckle as she presses in to nose along your cheek, the sound vibrating against the skin. “Thanks to your girl problems, I have you sitting all pretty in my lap right now. I think I can find them a little bit funny.”

Her warm breath puffs across your skin, sending another wave of shivers rolling down your back. “Yeah?” You ask, a little breathless.

“Mmhm,” she hums, placing a kiss to the heated skin of your cheek. She trails them down across your face, eyes briefly catching yours before finally kissing you properly.

You’ve missed her. Badly. Missed the feeling of her lips on yours, the way her hands always seem to find their way home on your hips. You’ve missed how she melts under you, how quickly she can go from teasing and ribbing to soft and gentle.  

Under normal circumstances, you’re certain you’d have more self-control than you do in this moment-- but having Abby leave you just two days after your whispered confessions on the couch has made you just a bit more needy for her attention than usual.

So, you keep kissing her, and she keeps kissing you, arms tangled around each other, your thighs on either side of her hips. Your hands slide across the back of her shoulders, trailing down her biceps until you reach her waist. She follows in kind, large hands caressing up and down your sides, along your back. She slides a hand into the back pocket of your pants and keeps it there, giving a playful squeeze that makes you gasp into her mouth. Abby uses this to her advantage, swiping her tongue against yours and grinning at the noise that leaves you.

The kiss deepens a fraction, and you inch your hands up her sides, thumbs just barely brushing the undersides of her breasts. Her soft grunt pulls you through the other side of the lust ridden fog clouding your mind, and you reluctantly pull away. You’re both left panting into each other’s mouths, lips grazing as you catch your breath.

You blink at her, watching her pupils shift as she looks up from your swollen lips. You just know that you have the same look in your eyes that you find in Abby’s-- slightly hooded, dark, a little bit desperate. You swallow thickly, removing your hands from her torso to place them on her shoulders, giving them an awkward pat.

“Okay,” you breathe, clearing your throat. “Alright. This—Let’s put a pin in this.”

Abby snorts, a lazy smile curling her lips. “You don’t wanna stay up here with me?” She whispers as she leans back in, capturing your lips once more.

You hum, almost a moan, and let yourself melt into her, though you pull away before she can make it too deep. “You know I want to. But I have work, and you need to rest.”

She sighs, pressing a lingering kiss to your cheek. “Okay.”

“Good.” You chuckle softly, pulling back to look at her. Your eyes roam her face, and you bring a hand up to gently brush against her forehead, just under the butterfly bandage. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

Abby reaches up for your hand, pulling it away from her forehead and clasping it in her own. “Positive.” She draws your hand to her lips, kissing along your knuckles. “I love you.”

Your heart beats wildly in your chest, face flushing at those three simple words. You grin, turning your hand over so you can press your own kiss to the back of her hand in return.

“I love you, too.”

⸙

“You’ll want to avoid getting the area wet for a couple of days, so maybe stick to sponge baths for a bit until you get the all clear from us.” You look up at the girl on the cot, smiling softly as you scribble your signature on the bottom of the document. She’s no more than sixteen, face still round with baby fat.

She grimaces, a pout coming to her lips as she inspects her arm, a piece of gauze covering the long line of sutures clipped neatly along her forearm. “What if I just… stick my arm out of the shower the whole time?”

You can’t help the laugh that leaves you, eyes softening at the small break in her sour expression. “Trust me, that never works. You’ll realise your mistake halfway through washing your hair and then it’ll be a soggy trip back up here.” You tear off a slip from the bottom of the page, clipping it to the top of the chart and tucking your pen in your pocket. “I’ll grab you some pain meds and then you’ll be good to go.”

She sighs and lets herself fall back onto the cot as you head into the back room, rummaging around to grab what you need from the medicine cabinets, portioning out some of the medication in a small bottle for her to take home. You write all of her patient information on a small slip, using the underside to write out the medication directions. You tape it just along the top to the front of the bottle, and bring it back into the main room.

She barely listens to the usual spiel, how many pills she can take and when. She’s too keen to get out of there, reaching out for the bottle when you hold it between you so that she can leave.

You pull it back at the last second. “You get all that?”

“Take two every four hours.”

“As needed,” you remind her, still keeping the bottle back. “And no more than…?”

“No more than seven a day.”

You sigh. “Eight, but close enough.” You go to pass her the bottle, but pull it back once more. Her big eyes track the movement. “You come back as soon as it starts to feel weird or look funny, okay? Infection is super serious.”

She nods, fingers twitching in her lap. “Yes ma’am.” She reaches out again, but you don’t give in.

“And next time you wanna sneak out, don’t try to climb the walls.” You lower your voice, stage whispering to her conspiratorially, “Making friends with the guard patrol will get you a long way.”

You wink, finally pushing the meds towards her.

She blinks, grins in understanding-- the gap between her bottom two teeth stark against the pink stain from when she had bitten her tongue when she fell-- then takes the bottle from you, shoving it in her pocket. “Thank you, ma’am.”

She hops off the bed, giving you a small salute, clicking her heels together as she’d probably just been trained to, before taking off out of the tent.

“Surely you’re not giving advice on how to sneak out to the newbies.”

You scoff, turning around to face Mel, still bundled up in her coat from outside, a few flecks of snow melting along her shoulders, short hair slick with rain. “Like you can talk,” you tease, moving past her to walk out to the back room. Mel follows, the water-proof fabric of her coat shuffling as she moves. “She’d never listen if I told her to not sneak out. I’d much rather her know how to do it safely than end up here again.”

“That’s true. I was jumping over rooftops sometimes to get out of base.”

“My point exactly,” you laugh, turning to stand just out of the doorway, sweeping your arm to let her in. “After you.”

“Thank you, kind sir,” Mel nods, the two of you giggling as she passes.

The large tote that she carries over her shoulder, a plain canvas that bulges at the sides grabs your attention as she unhooks it from her shoulder. She let’s out small breath, almost of relief as she sets the bag down, rolling her shoulder in its socket now that the weight has been taken off of it.

“The hell is that? Your duffel break or something?”

Mel looks up for a moment, notices your eyes trained on the tote, and shoves the bag into one of the containers she’d pulled from under the counter, using her back to block your sight.

“No peaking. I just finished up the last of my holiday shopping.”

You blink at her, watching her lose half her size as she shrugs off the large coat from her frame. “What’s the date today?”

“The fifteenth, why?” She kicks the tub back under the bench, the arm of her coat flopping over the side.

“Shit—No way are we that far into December already.”

Mel laughs, straightening out her henley and wicking some of the water from her hair. “We literally have a calendar in the room.”

“I know,” you grunt, rubbing at your eyes. “I just got distracted. I was going to be so on top of your gift this year.”

“You don’t have to get me anything,” Mel says, turning back to look at you. “I know you don’t celebrate Christmas.”

“Yeah, but I celebrate ‘Mel’s excuse to give her friends presents’ month.” You wave her off, moving to put the patient file away. “I swore after last year that I was going to get you something like, three months in advance so I don’t have a repeat of last year.”

“I like my mug!”

“Yeah, well somehow a mug that says ‘I have specs appeal’ doesn’t compare to the beautiful blanket you got me. You don’t even wear glasses.”

“Which is what makes the mug so funny.” She leans against the counter, watching you move through the room. “It’s seriously no big deal. I don’t get you things so that you have to get me something in return. I get them because I love you.”

“I know, but I love you too. I might try and head down to the market this afternoon. You want me to pick up dinner on the way back?”

Mel hums in thought, turning away to wash her hands, lathering them in the scentless soap. “I think they’re doing a roast tonight. Grab us some?”

“Done.” You smile, filing the chart away and putting your clipboard under your arm.

You do end up making it down to the market, having a couple of hours before the sun sets and it gets too dark for the stall holders to be able to sell.

Pulling out the crumpled piece of paper in your coat pocket, you squint at the barely legible writing you’d scrawled between the lines, small notes on each person you wanted to buy for that you’d written throughout the day.

It had started with ideas for Mel, things you know she likes or would find useful. You then obviously had to add Abby, because any excuse to buy your girlfriend something nice you’ll take up in a heartbeat. And you guessed that while you’re here, it wouldn’t hurt to look for something for Nora-- you’d been meaning to get her something to say thank you after your evaluation. Manny and Owen have also been really good to you this past year, so something small for them would be nice too…

Soon your scrap of paper was full, and your plan to pop down for half an hour tops had you roaming around for the rest of the afternoon, talking to all of the vendors and rummaging through their wares.

It was nice, taking the time to come down here. You find that a lot of your free time now is taken up with either catching up on sleep or being with Abby, so you don’t roam around as much as you used to. You’re also a lot stronger than you were a few months ago, being able to more confidently handle all the standing and walking around that comes with browsing the market, especially after a whole day at work. It was a good day today, so hopefully your leg will only be a little cramped on the way home.

Switching over to being a medic had also filled your wallet a bit more, bringing home a couple more rations each week than you used to as a soldier.

You were honestly a little bit surprised when you first arrived that the WLF used a rations system, though you were quick to find out that it was entirely different to the one you were used to in the FEDRA run QZs.

Back in Denver, your parents had to work to earn rations so that the three of you could eat. FEDRA was meant to just distribute them amongst the population, an allocated amount per person, per week-- but that quickly went out the window after a few years. Now it was all dependant on what you could provide for the city. You were lucky enough that your parents had a small stash saved in case of an emergency, giving you some time after they died where you didn’t have to worry about working. You stretched them out as much as you could, and by the time they ran out, you decided to leave.

The WLF have two types of rations; actual ration stamps that get allocated to each person every week, and the ‘ration’ tickets you got through employment.

You lived in abundance here on base, and while everyone— regardless of their ability to work or ‘provide for the community’— gets allocated a liveable amount of food, those who do have the means to work get a bonus.

It’s a system that mimics the currency of the old world, and works much better in being considered a form of reward than in the QZs, where people were using their only source of food to trade for literally anything else they might need. The amount you earned each week was job dependant, and gave you a means to indulge.

A lot of the soldiers use theirs to bulk up, eating bigger portions or second helpings outside of their weekly amount. That’s what Abby uses a lot of hers on, as well as buying ingredients to take home to cook more concentrated meals, things much higher in protein than what you can usually get in the cafeteria.

Pretty much everyone else uses them down at the market—a long curving line of stalls in the old train yard that sells everything from homemade shampoo and conditioner to books and electronics.

These stalls are mostly run by those unable to work for one reason or another, usually due to age or ailment, so their extra income comes from what they sell. They put most of their profits back into getting new stock, sending soldiers on patrol off with a list and a band of tickets as payment, but they earn it all back by the next time they set up.

That’s not to say that bartering isn’t alive and well because it very much was, especially in the market. Those who have jobs that take them off base are the ones who barter the most, bringing things down to the market in hopes of a trade. Sometimes you’d even get better deals through bartering than the handover of rations, and it was a quick way to liken yourself to particular merchants.

You spend the rest of the afternoon wandering around the market, collecting bits and pieces and making conversation with all the different merchants; asking about their stock and whether they have the specific things you’re looking for. You end up doing pretty well for yourself, finding a lot of what you had set out to find, and being able to politely request that they keep an eye out for the things you couldn’t get your hands on just yet.

Paying full price had surprisingly been more of a struggle than you had anticipated. Nearly everyone recognised you as one of the medics, some of the stallholders being past patients of yours, or having loved ones you’d treated instead. It was a fight with some of them, trying to hand over the full amount of tickets only to get your hands pushed back towards you, an endless cycle of “No really, I’m sure—” “No, no, I insist—”, until one of you ultimately gave in (it was almost always you).

By the end of the day, when the floodlights around the edges of the stadium turn on with an echoing fwump, you had a bag that felt just as heavy as Mel’s had looked thrown over your shoulder. Everything had been bundled carefully inside, the more delicate items wrapped in scrap pieces of fabric or crumpled newspaper.

You definitely didn’t account for the weight of your bag plus the dinner you had to pick up on your way home when thinking about the strain on your leg by the end of the day, but you found that you didn’t mind the ache when you were feeling so much love and tender care for your friends.

⸙

“Here.”

You barely catch the bundled shirt thrown to you from the steps, the pilled fabric surprisingly soft in your hands. You pinch it at the shoulders, shaking out the tee to look at the design on the front.

“Abs, this is your shirt.”

“And?” Abby asks from a few feet away, holding onto the railing as she leans over, snatching her discarded sweats from the floor, where she’d dropped them over an hour ago.

“I actually brought my own pyjamas this time.”

She looks to you past the strands of hair that have fallen in her face as she bends at the waist, dragging the fabric of her sweats up her naked calves. “And?”

The effect of your eyeroll is dampened by the way your lips twitch up in a fond smile, one that you try to hide by tugging the sleep shirt over your head, the faded print of a sports mascot falling across and covering your bare chest.

It’d been a few days since Abby came home from assignment, and you both finally had a free evening to spend together. It was meant to just be dinner and a movie, knowing that you had an incredibly early shift the next morning and there was going to be no way you’d get a full night’s sleep if you stayed over. But that all went out the window when Abby hooked her chin over your shoulder about halfway through the movie, strong arms wrapped around you from behind as you sat in her lap in the beanbag, pressing her cheek to your own as she asked if you were really sure you couldn’t stay tonight.

She sounded tired—and when you turned to look at her, brushing your fingers along her jaw, you saw that she looked just as exhausted as she sounded. The bags under her eyes were giveaway enough, but it was the look behind them, the dull look of someone who hasn’t had a proper night’s sleep in days that made you agree without a moment’s hesitation.

And you were just going to go to bed. You’d even gone home real quick, grabbing a pack with everything you’d need for the next day, including your own pyjamas. Work has had you on your feet all week, and you were feeling the farthest thing from sexy… but then you were getting ready for bed and got caught staring at Abby’s naked back and that was that.

You let Abby strip you down to your underwear, knowing that the feeling of your skin pressing hot against hers was one of her favourite things in the world, but that’s as far as you went. You wanted to focus on her tonight, to take your time making her fall apart, commit every touch and sound to memory.

And you did. What started as a slow make out and grind in her bed ended with her bent nearly halfway over the stair railing, your chest pressing along her back as you pumped into her from behind.

Abby shuffles over to the bed, sweats slung low along her hips, noticeably shirtless. She gestures for you to scooch over as she lifts the covers, pressing a knee to the mattress as she begins to slide in next to you.

“Where’s your shirt?” You ask, dragging your eyes away from her swollen and love-bitten chest.

She shrugs, reaching over to turn off the lamp with a click. “You’re wearing it.”

“Babe, it’s freezing tonight,” you say, tone laced with your disapproval. “Put a shirt on.”

“Guess you’ll just have to cuddle up to me tonight, then.” Abby shifts onto her side, wrapping her arms around your middle as she slides up next to you. “Keep me warm.”

With a frustrated huff you give in, shuffling yourself to lay down properly next to her. “You don’t have to be shirtless for me to cuddle you. You can just ask for it.”

She hums, pulling you closer to place a kiss to your cheek, hot breath puffing along your skin. “But I like it-- feeling your hands on my back. Shirt just gets in the way.”

“You’re lucky you’re sweet,” you murmur, leaning in to capture her lips.

Abby sighs into the kiss, soft and relaxed, slow compared to the pace from earlier. Arms slip around her body, hands sliding up and across the expanse of her back just like she wanted. She melts against you, the tension evaporating under your hands. Her own rumple your sleep shirt, tugging you closer.

Her lips shift from yours, pressing them to the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then slowly up to your forehead. They’re so warm and soft, and you can’t help but nuzzle up against her, trailing your blunt nails lightly over her back.

“I like you like this.”

“Like what?” she murmurs, lips pressing against the bridge of your nose, then down across your other cheek to your jaw.

“This. You get all… smoochy sometimes.”

Abby huffs a sharp breath from her nose, pulling back to look at you. “I’m not—I don’t get smoochy.”

You can’t help the sound that leaves you, the short laugh as you raise your eyebrow. “Yeah? Then what was all that?”

A blush darkens her face, and she winds a hand up to the back of your head to pull you against her neck. “Shut up. Dogs get smoochy—I don’t.”

“Hm,” you hum, pressing your lips to the column of her throat. “You sure were begging like one earlier—hey!” You yelp at a sharp pinch to your ass, squirming as a fit of giggles leaves you, trying to wriggle away from the fingers that dance along your sides. “—Abby!”

Abby rolls the two of you over, throwing a leg over your hip to straddle you. The blanket falls around her hips as she pins you down, halting her assault. “You were saying?”

Your breaths leave you in a light pant as you look up at her, residual giggles still tumbling from your lips. Her eyebrow arches, fingers flexing as she waits for your response.

She’s beautiful, hair falling over her back, strands of it brushing her face. She’s been leaving her hair out more and more around you, and it takes your breath away each time.

“I love you?”

She grunts, giving a roll of her eyes as she slumps forwards, deciding that either that was as good as she was going to get, or she was too tired to fight for something better—or both. She gives you a quick peck before she settles down atop of you, sliding her legs between your own, resting her cheek against the swell of your chest.

“I love you, too.”

Reaching down for the blanket, you pull it back up over yourselves, tucking it gently around her shoulders. Your hands slip underneath to run up and down the length of her back, fingertips brushing along the bumps of her spine, lightly massaging along her muscles. She sighs and buries herself further into your chest, breathes evening out as she relaxes.

“Thank you for dinner,” you say quietly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“S’all good, honey,” she mumbles, her exhaustion quickly catching up to her. “Thank you for after dinner.”

You can’t help the laugh that leaves you, chest shaking as you try to keep the volume down. Abby grins sleepily against your chest.

“Of course, baby. Anytime.” You press one more kiss to the top of her head, squeezing her gently. “Get some sleep.”

“Okay,” she says, voice muffled against your chest, shifting slightly before melting all the way in.

You lay with her curled on top of you for what feels like an hour, but is mostly likely only a couple of minutes, focusing on the way Abby’s breaths deepen. You’re so sure that she’s asleep, that you barely catch her soft and muffled voice.

“You’ll be here in the morning, right?”

Your hands still on her back for just a moment as you blink into the dark, staring up at the top of the bunk. “Where else would I be?”

She doesn’t say anything, just lays there and breathes. Her reply comes a minute later.

“I don’t know.”

You frown, looking down at her to try and make out her form in the dark. Her lashes that touch the tops of her cheeks, mouth slightly open as her face squishes against your chest.

“I’ll be here. I promise. I’ll be the first thing you see when you wake up.”

A slow breath out, almost in relief. “Good.”

It doesn’t take her long to fall asleep, having tired her out before bed. You spend that time stroking her back, pressing soothing kisses along her scalp. When you’re certain she’s asleep, deep enough that she’s not going to wake up any time soon, you let yourself slowly drift off too.

“Fuck—I can’t… Why…?”

You take a deep breath in as you wake up, head still clouded with sleep, eyes slowly blinking into the dark of the room. It feels like you’ve barely slept, like you were awake only a few seconds earlier.

“—I’m sorry, I’m so sorry… fucking— god—"

You’ve shifted in your sleep, back facing the room as you lay on your side. The blanket has shuffled around as you have, and your borrowed shirt is pulled tight along your back, the material bunched in the tight fists of Abby.

Abby who is curled up against your chest, the hot tears that stream down her face soaking into the fabric of your shirt, material clinging to your chest. Her back shudders as she gasps, her mutters broken up with cries that wrack through her body.

Your brain finally catches up, and you look down at the woman, the love of your life, so small against you as she cries.

“Abby?” your voice cracks, clogged from sleep and worry.

She stills for a moment as she holds her breath, trying to stop the shakes of her body, almost as if she were hoping you’d think she was asleep and give up, falling back asleep yourself.

“Baby,” you murmur, slowly moving yourself to wrap around her when you’re sure she’s awake. “What’s wrong?

She grips onto you tighter, lips clamped shut as she breathes sharply and deeply through her nose, muffling her sounds.

“M’fine,” she grits out, voice hoarse. She swallows back her emotions, throat clicking as she presses her forehead against your sternum. “Go back to sleep.”

This does nothing but wake you up more, and you rise up on your elbows to look at her properly, heart tearing in two at the soft sound of protest as you move. You shield her from the rest of the room, a hand coming up to the back of her head to run through the strands that she left untied.

“Abby—”

“I can’t— Just-- please… go back to sleep.” She sounds exhausted, voice strained yet dull, like she doesn’t have any emotion left to force into her tone.

“Not while you’re hurting, Abs,” you whisper, pressing down to kiss her forehead, slightly damp with sweat. “I’m not going to abandon you.”

She breathes out in a soft wheeze, like she’s been punched in the gut. You hear her swallow thickly, clenching and unclenching her fists in the stretched fabric of your shirt. She’s tense, unbelievable so, and you can still feel a small tremor in her muscles.

She’s silent for a long while—you both are. She lays there, breathing deep and shakily against your chest, hot breaths warming your skin. You massage along her scalp, pressing soothing kisses across the side of her face, nosing along her cheek as you let her breathe, moving your legs to tangle with hers.

It’s familiar, as much as you hate that fact. It feels like Abby’s ability to sleep keeps getting worse and worse, and her willingness to let you help has been impacted just as much-- and that’s only when you’re around. Who knows how bad it gets when you’re not there, or when she’s not even home.

“I can’t sleep. I keep—I keep seeing him,” she whispers, hands unclenching to press against your chest, sliding down to hold onto your hips. She finds the hem of your shirt, smoothing under and up, fingers gripping and pulling gently at the bare skin of your back, desperate and seeking. It doesn’t send the usual tingle down your spine; it doesn’t flip your stomach. This is a touch to keep her grounded, to keep her sane.

“Who?” You ask softly, delicately, murmuring into her hair. You brush some out of her face, off the damp surface of her forehead and temples. “Your dad?”

An almost imperceptible shake of her head. “Not—Not dad.”

The repeated question of who is forced back, clamped behind your lips. You let her take her time, not wanting to make her feel rushed or like you’re trying to force an answer out of her. Supporting Abby in these moments is like a dance, a slow, complicated thing that you have to let her take the lead of.

She pulls herself away, extricates herself from your limbs. You look at her properly for the first time, see the way this has aged her, the haunted look in her eyes, her skin pale and clammy. You reach out for her, hands following her movements.

“Abs…” you call out softly, rising with her. She looks to you, a brief flick of her eyes.

“I’m not—I’m not leaving.” She says, shuffling to the edge of the bed. You draw yourself up, moving to give her space.

She throws her legs off the side of the bed, bunching her fists into the edge of the mattress, head hanging so that her chin almost touches her still bare chest. Her skin is freckled and tanned along her shoulders, hair slipping down the length of her torso and hiding her face.

You shuffle up behind her, blanket laying forgotten on the mattress. Your arms slip gently around her middle, coming up to press against her chest. One of your hands lays over her heart, feeling the uneven thrum of it thunder beneath your palm.

You kiss between her shoulder blades, resting your forehead in it’s place.

Her breath stutters, hands still gripping the mattress.

“I can’t sleep. I close my eyes and he’s just—he’s there. But it’s not him because I don’t know what he looks like, so my brain just… I don’t fucking know.” Her chest rises and falls just a bit faster, breathes coming out sharply from her nose. “He’s just this… thing. This fucking monster and I can’t get him out of my fucking head.”

You wet your lips, voice small when you ask once more, “Who?”

“Joel.” Her voice is firm—stronger than you’ve heard it all night. “His name is Joel Miller.”

You don’t know what you expected when you heard his name. A wave of cold? Goosebumps? Shivers down your spine? But his name is so… normal. So generic. Nothing evil, or scary, or monstrous.

“He—” She pauses, and you press closer along her back, placing a few more kisses along the line of her shoulders, up to the back of your neck where you bury yourself.

“I didn’t see it. They—I don’t know who, but they shoved me in a room. Everyone was yelling. People were screaming. There was—” the mattress shakes when she starts bouncing her leg, an anxious tick. “There was so much gunfire. I could hear it move through the building.” She sounds hollow, like she’s reciting lines from a script.

“Abby, you don’t have to—”

“Let me just—” She starts, tone a bit too sharp, which she recognises with a wince. She sighs, slumps into herself somewhat. One of her hands lets go of the mattress, coming up to wrap around your forearm. “I’ve kept it from you. You deserve to know.”

Moving your hand down to clasp at her own, you pull it up to your mouth, kissing the knuckles tenderly. “If you’re sure. I trust you.”

You use your other arm to squeeze her gently, holding her with a reassuring pressure to your chest. You can’t see her face, but you can feel the way she lets some of her weight rest against you, allowing you to help prop her up.

She keeps going.

“I don’t know how long I was hiding, but the alarm started going off and I needed to know. I needed to find my dad.” She breathes, takes a second. “And when I did—” Her voice cracks, and so does her fragile and gossamer-thin mask—her shoulders shaking as her emotions choke her once more.

“Hey,” you whisper, squeezing her hand. “It’s okay. You can skip this part.” You kiss her cheek, shifting yourself to bring a hand up, wiping away the stray tear that connects with your lips. “I love you.”

She nods, throat working as she sniffles, tilting her head back to stare at the ceiling, looking up to try and stop herself from crying. Her jaw works, teeth grinding as she tries so hard to shove everything down.

“He killed him. He killed him and then fucking ran.” The back of Abby’s head falls to rest on your shoulder. “We had to bury so many… It took us a week. So many people dead. He made so many of us orphans, while he’s out there somewhere… Probably with his family.

“Why does he get to have his when he took away mine? Ours?”

She sniffs, just the once, letting even more of her weight drop back against your chest. Your hand, the one wiping away the streaks of tears from her cheeks, rests gently against her jaw, thumb smoothing over the skin.

“I have to find him.”

It feels like your gut flips, a wave of nausea rolling over you. It sends something cold slithering down your spine, the same cold that you hear bleeding through her words.

“Where would you look?”

“Anywhere. Everywhere. I have—” she pauses, like she doesn’t know if she should be saying this. “I have some leads. They’re not much, but I have to see them through.”

It hangs there, lingers in the air between you, in the dark of the room. Your chin digs into her shoulder, your eyes staring out into the room.

“What are you going to do to him? When you find him?”

She’s silent. You give her time, wait for a response.

She doesn’t say anything.

“Abby?”

You turn to look at her, watch the way her throat bobs as she swallows, face blank, eyes staring lost at the top of the bunk.

“What I need to,” she whispers, in a voice unrecognisable to you.

Is this the Abby that Owen talked about? The one Mel sees? A version of her that is consumed by this nightmare-- her nightmare-- with only one possible way to free herself from it?

“What if he’s already dead?”

It slips from you without meaning, before you can stop it. She stills against you, breath stuttering to a stop in her chest as she holds it.

“He won’t be.”

“How can you—”

“He won’t,” she snaps, refusing to look at you. “He can’t. He just—He just can’t be.”

You find yourself nodding, backing down, letting her have this. “Okay. He won’t be.”

You both sit there for a while longer, listening to the sounds of each others breath. You ignore your leg when it starts to ache, waiting for her to move first. You don’t want to pull away until she’s ready, until she wants you to. You don’t know how much she needs, how much she wants from you right now, so you let her take until she doesn’t need anymore.

It feels like close to a half hour before Abby slips herself from your hands, moving to rise from the bed.

“Where are you going?”

She steps away from you, and you just watch as she walks the small distance to the dresser, pulling out a shirt at random and shoving it over her head.

“I need some air. I think—I’m gonna go for a run. Or a shower. Or both.”

You swing your legs over the side, moving to stand too. “Let me come with you.”

When Abby turns to look at you, there’s something behind her eyes, something conflicting and fighting-- like a war. She comes back over to you, gently grabbing your upper arms as you rise to stand, sitting you back down.

“Stay,” she says, flicking her eyes away then back to yours. “I… I want to be alone.”

Your gut flips once more, the nausea getting worse. You frown, looking at her and searching her eyes. She holds yours, though her brows twitch to furrow and her jaw works as she grinds her teeth again.

“You know I’m here for you, right?” you whisper, bringing your hands up to cup her face between them. “If you really, truly want to be alone, I’ll give that to you. But I just need to know that you understand that I’m here. Whenever you need me.”

Her expression shifts, something softer and sadder as she looks down at you, but still terribly guarded. She nods, just the once, leaning down to press her forehead against your own. “I know.”

“Okay,” you say back, soft in the space between you. “I love you, Abby. So much.”

She swallows, voice thick as she responds, “I love you too.”

She kisses you, and you can tell just from that one touch that she means it. She means it with her entire sad and grieving heart, despite how much it’s hurting.

You just hope she can tell how much you mean it, too.

⸙

It shouldn’t have surprised you that Abby became a lot more difficult to find after that night. She did the same thing the first time, hardly ever being home, off occupying herself with anything and everything she can.

The only difference was that last time you could at least find her. Abby Anderson is a creature of habit, and if you had the time to check her usual spots you would no doubt find her. But this time, she was always just… somewhere else. You’d only managed to see her twice over the next few days, but it wasn’t for very long, and you couldn’t help but feel like she was distracted the entire time.

You give in after your second interaction with her and try to find Manny, hoping that if anyone knew how she was really doing that it would be him—but somehow, he was just as scarce.

You resign yourself to just letting her come to you when she’s ready, trusting that she would. She must have felt too vulnerable, the wounds too open and fresh and needed some time to heal, lick them clean and piece the dignity she feels like she’s lost back together.

As it always happened, Owen finds you during this time.

The mess hall is loud around you; utensils scraping against plates, groups of people chattering and laughing over their food, the occasional mechanical whirr and hiss of kitchen appliances going off.

You sit alone at your usual table, somewhat slumped against the bulletin wall as you poke with your fork at the sole meatball left on top of your pasta. The copy of Lord of the Flies that you bought at the market is open next to your bowl, a pen nestled in the crook of the spine between the pages. You were slowly but gradually annotating it, but you’ve been staring down at page seventy-six for about ten minutes now and haven’t taken in a single detail.

You’re too busy worrying about Abby.

The thump of someone resting their elbows on the table across from you startles you from your thoughts, fork piercing through the meatball and slicing it in two. You look up, blinking dumbly at the man before you.

“Owen, hey.”

The polite smile you give him twitches the longer you look him over, shifting into a small frown.

“Hey,” he says, trying his hardest to smile back. He looks run down— his hair that’s usually a bit messy looks like he’s been tugging at it thoughtlessly, the beard that Mel tries to make him keep neatly trimmed a bit more scraggly than normal. His clothes are rumpled-- shirt creased, and the collar of his army jacket rolled awkwardly under itself.

“You okay? You close up your book, pushing it and your bowl off to the side. “You look…”

“Handsome? Dashing? Amazing as per usual?” He jokes, scratching at his beard. His eyes lighten up a fraction, but they’re nowhere near as bright as they should be.

You huff a laugh, shifting in your seat. “I was going to say you look exhausted, but that works too, I guess.” He’s quiet, makes a point of looking away. “What’s wrong, Owen?”

“Does something have to be wrong?”

You stare at him, face blank except for the single eyebrow that you raise, just enough to be effective. You’ve nearly perfected the look Mel gives you when she wants you to stop bullshitting, and you know that if anything is going to get Owen to talk, it’ll be this.

“Owen.”

He sighs, looking back to you—you can tell he’s looking at your forehead and not your eyes, which is better than nothing you suppose-- and drums his fingers on the table in front of you.

The eyebrow things works wonders.

“Have you… How’s Mel been?”

“Mel?” You straighten up in your seat, heartrate picking up minutely.

“Short brown hair, about this tall—” He holds up a hand, roughly Mel height, “— very beautiful, lives with you?”

“Ha ha,” you say monotonously, leaning forward against the table, crossing your arms over the surface. “She’s been… fine, I guess? Busy at work when I see her, and she’s been staying at yours this week, so I haven’t really had time to sit down and have a proper chat… Why? Is she okay?”

Owen slumps a bit, offering a shrug. “I don’t know. You’d think I would, but I don’t.”

You lean in closer, trying to find a balance of absolutely needing more information and reassuring. “What’s going on?”

“She’s just… off?” He runs an anxious hand through his hair, tugging slightly at the strands. “She seems like she’s stressed about something, but she won’t tell me what. Just says it’s work and not to worry.”

“Work has been really busy, lately… Are you sure it’s really not just that?”

He immediately shakes his head. “No. Something’s up.” He finally looks at you, a pleading but embarrassed look in his eyes.

You clock it immediately. “Owen…”

“Just talk to her for me? Please? What if it’s something I’m doing, and she won’t tell me?”

“I can’t force her to tell me what’s wrong,” you say, frowning at him.

“I’m not asking you to force it out of her. I don’t even want to know what she tells you, I just want to make sure she’s okay. And if she doesn’t feel comfortable enough to tell me, then I’m hoping she can find comfort in you. She shouldn’t have to be upset by herself.”

You blink at him, looking into his eyes, pleading and desperate and sad. It’s honestly kind of sweet, how concerned he is for her.

You let out a deep, resigned breath and give in.

“I’ll talk to her. But I cant promise she’ll want to tell me anything, and I’m not going to tell you whatever she tells me, okay? Unless I think she’s like, going to get herself killed or something.”

Owen’s body slumps fully against the table. “Thank you,” he breathes, relieved. “I just want to make sure she’s okay.”

Reaching over across the table, you pat his arm comfortingly. “I get that. You’re a good partner, you know?”

He flushes slightly, colour creeping up from the collar of his jacket to the tips of his ears.

He raises back up. “I have some room to improve… but thanks.” His smile is embarrassed, but the most genuine one you’ve gotten out of him today. He nods to you. “You are, too.”

You pause; the smile frozen on your face. “What?”

Owen stutters, a wave of guilt passing over his face. He doubles down. “I— I said you’re a good partner too.”

You both stare at each other, the mess hall bustling around you as your minds work a mile a minute. You stumble slightly, trying to find your words. “I don’t—What do you—”

“Look, I promise I won’t say anything,” he rushes out, holding his hands up to you reassuringly.

“I knew you figured it out!” You hiss, leaning towards him on the table. “How did—When did you—”

“I mean, I noticed right away that she had feelings for you,” he said, also leaning in. “I know how she is when she likes someone. And you aren’t exactly all that subtle either, so I was more just waiting on the two of you to realise it yourselves.”

You huff, embarrassed, looking away. “I wasn’t that obvious.”

“You were making goo-goo eyes at her the first time you met. I was there, remember?” You don’t know when his smile became a teasing smirk, but you hate him for it. “And I’m not the only one that thought it was weird that you and Isabella didn’t stay together for longer.”

“First of all, never call them goo-goo eyes ever again,” you say, raising a finger at him. “Second, me and Isabella didn’t work out because we wanted different things.”

Owen raises an eyebrow. “And what did you want?”

You open your mouth, then close it again. “I don’t need to explain myself to you.”

He laughs, more of that mirthful light coming back to his eyes.

“You noticing we were uselessly pining for each other doesn’t explain to me how you know, though,” you point out, crossing your arms over your chest.

Owen has the decency to look a little bit embarrassed—somewhat hesitant to speak up. He clears his throat. “You know that just because you can’t see anyone, that doesn’t mean that nobody can see you, right?”

“Huh?”

“The WLF banner. It doesn’t exactly—I mean it does a pretty good job, but if you’re entering from the East Gate, you can kind of see around it and--”

You stand abruptly, nearly tripping on the bench seat. “This was a great talk, Owen, but I have to go now.”

He laughs, watching you lean down to collect your things. “Nobody really looks up there, but if you—”

“We’re never talking about this ever again,” you say, tone final. He grins up at you, and despite the circumstances, you feel a sense of relief at the sight.

Your movements slow to a stop, fingers left to fiddle with the corner of the book. “You won’t like, bring this up to anyone, yeah? Abby’s not really one for people knowing her business and I don’t want her to think—”

His face softens, and he shakes his head. “You know I get how she is about these sorts of things. I promise I won’t speak a word of it, even to Mel. Especially to Mel.”

“Mel knows already,” you inform him, still looking down at the book. “You remember our fight?”

“Oh.” Understanding washes over him like a wave. “That… makes a bit more sense, now.”

“Yeah,” you clear your throat, tucking your book under your arm and picking up your bowl of leftovers. “I promise I’ll try and talk to Mel.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

“No sweat,” you say, stepping back from the table. “I’ll see you around?”

“Sure,” he nods, smiling up at you. “You know, if you want any good spots, I can—”

You turn on your heels and walk away without another word, Owen’s laugh following you.

⸙

True to your word, you organise to have a talk with Mel.

You don’t outright ask, which maybe was a shitty move on your part, but you figured that if she was trying to hide whatever was bothering her from Owen, that this was something that needed to be approached a bit more delicately than catching her in one of your spare moments.

You find her at work the following day, sliding beside her at the wash station to ask what her plans were for that night.

She shrugs, rinsing the lather from between her fingers. “All my stuff is at Owen’s still, so I’ll probably just go back there tonight.”

“Well, cancel that. I’m stealing you for the night.”

Mel looks to you, hands stilling under the water stream. “But my stuff-“

“I’ll go get it on my break. Owen’s home, right?” You already know that Owen is home, having just talked to him yesterday. “I’ll just get him to let me in.”

She eyes you for a few more seconds, studying you, before turning off the tap and shaking out her hands.

“Sure.” Mel nods to herself, lips curling up into a tired smile. “That’d be nice.”

The two of you clocked off at the same time, something that has been happening less and less as the days go by. You appreciate the independence that you have now that you’re no longer under supervision, but you can’t lie and say that you don’t miss Mel more.

You wait for her as she bundles herself back up in her puffer coat, holding out the crook of your arm for her to slip her own into as you make the trek down to the caf for dinner. The lines were thankfully not too long by the time you got there, so you settled on getting some burrito bowls and heading home.

You set up the dining table as Mel got changed, making some excuse about how you never properly sit here anymore, how you miss having family dinners. Really, it was because you couldn’t look at the couch properly anymore, and the idea of sitting on it with Mel after having Abby over the other week… You just couldn’t do it.

So, you ate at the table, you on one end and Mel on the other, food transferred from the takeaway containers to real bowls because you know Mel prefers it.

You also talked. Emphasis on the you. Mel was kind, and she politely joined in on the conversation, made sure you knew that she was interested and listening, but she wasn’t participating as enthusiastically as she normally would. And when you look at her from the other side of the table, looking down at her food and dragging her fork distractedly through her rice, you can’t help but think that she really is off. That Owen was onto something.

You swallow a mouthful of lettuce and beans, setting your fork down in the bowl.

“I had to set a dislocated shoulder today,” you say, looking over at her.

“Yeah?” comes her reply, interested in theory, but she keeps staring down at her food.

“Yeah. I messed it up, though. Pulled it right off instead.”

You hoped that would get some reaction out of her-- a huff of laughter, a playful roll of her eyes— not an exasperated sigh and the sound of her fork clinking harshly against the ceramic as she drops it. Mel finally looks up at you, though her expression is hard, serious.

Anxiety zips through your veins, making the tips of your fingers tingle and spark.

“Mel?”

“I need to tell you something,” she starts, tone just as serious as her expression. “And you need to promise that you won’t tell anyone, no matter what. Not until I say you can, okay?”

You blink, trying to wrap your head around the sudden shift in energy. “Yeah—I mean, of course. You can tell me anything, you know that.”

Your palms sweat as she looks at you, something softening behind her eyes as she takes in your visible anxiety.

“Are… Are you and Owen okay?” you broach carefully, feeling ill just asking it. How would you look at him, knowing that he begged you to talk to her because he was so concerned for her, only to find out that she was thinking of ending things.

Something flickers across her face.

“Owen? We’re fine. More than fine,” she sighs, posture slipping a bit. “I hope we are? This is—I don’t know how this is going to change things.”

“Mel, you’re kind of scaring me,” you admit, feeling like the air around you is getting thinner. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

You watch, confused, as she stands up from the table and pads down the steps of the room, over to her bed. She pulls open one of the drawers by her bedside, shuffling things around before pulling something out. When she makes her way back to you, whatever she grabbed hidden away in her hand, she pulls out the chair next to you and drops herself down into it.

“Have you finished eating?” She asks, looking down at your bowl.

You look down with her, shoving it aside. You weren’t, but there’s no way you could eat now.

She places a parcel, a small thing wrapped in old newspaper, on the table in its place.

You look to her in question, words escaping you in this moment of tension, and she simply nods, giving you permission to open it.

You don’t notice the tremble in your hands until you pick the parcel up. It’s only a couple of inches long and whatever is inside is small, skinny, barely weighing a thing.

It’s wrapped neatly, and you flip it over to unpick the sliver of tape keeping the paper together. You use the same amount of care that you’d use when opening a present, something screaming at you that this is important.

It feels like your body is reacting before your mind, part of you already knowing what she’s given you, what is coming next, but all the signs and warnings are being blocked before they can register in your brain.

It’s only when you’re looking at the pregnancy test in the middle of the paper that it all clicks, and the air in your lungs leaves you in one big rush.

Two lines.

Pregnant.

You look up at Mel, neck almost snapping from the movement.

“Mel—”

“What do I do?” She asks, her large eyes looking imploringly into your own.

Your eyes flick back down at the test, the faded two lines on the stick staring back up at you.

“Aren’t these super expired? Surely there’s no way it’s still working.”

“I know, but I was freaking out and felt like I couldn’t calm down unless I took one,” she says, a slightly tremor in her voice.

“It’s just one test, though, right? I don’t think—”

Mel cuts you off by standing up, once again moving down the steps to her side of the room. This time she squats down by her bunk, pulling out her duffel and reaching somewhere far behind it. She pulls something out, whatever it is clattering around as she grips it and stands back up.

She puts it on the table next to the test when she makes her way back, slumping into the chair next to you to stare at it.

It’s a clear biohazard bag from the tents, full of at least twenty other pregnancy tests.

Without even needing to open the bag you can already see what the majority of them say through the plastic. Some are inconclusive, but the ones that show results all read positive.

“Oh shit,” you breathe, unable to rip your eyes away from the bag.

“Yeah,” Mel sighs, looking with you. “Shit, indeed.”

You turn to her in your chair.

“This doesn’t mean anything. Not yet, right? Do you have any other symptoms? When’s the last time you had your period?”

“I’m late,” she says, and you let out another breath, deflating slightly.

“That’s not— People are late all the time. And you and Owen are so careful, so I don’t—” You cut yourself off, watching the way her cheeks darken, the way she look at the floor. “Oh, Mel, you didn’t,” you gasp, holding a hand up to your mouth.

“It was only the once,” she argues, arms sliding around herself, across her stomach. “When we were at the aquarium, after he took me to get all that Christmas stuff. We were decorating, listening to music, dancing, and it was just really nice, okay? And we usually keep a bunch stashed around the place, but we weren’t by any and we didn’t want to leave so we just—” She cuts herself off, dragging her gaze back to the bag.

You slump back in your seat, staring at it with her.

It feels unreal. You and Mel have never talked about children before, how you feel about them or if you’d ever want them. But even if Mel does want kids, even if it’s something that she’s always dreamed about, having it happen so suddenly…

You can’t help the shocked little laugh that leaves you, a giggle that you try and muffle behind your hand. But then Mel is laughing too, and you both end up laughing together, shocked and unsure and scared at what this means as you stare at the bag on the table.

You blindly reach out for her, grasping one of her hands in your own.

“You’re gonna be a mom. Maybe,” you tack on, not wanting to jinx anything, just in case.

You look over at Mel as she looks to you, squeezing your hand and smiling just a little bit. It’s strained, exhausted, but there. “Yeah. Maybe.”

“You’ve got this.No matter what happens, you’re going to kick ass.”

She swallows, eyes getting a bit misty. “What if… What if Owen doesn’t—”

You turn in your chair, facing her head on. “He loves you. He’s crazy about you. If I’m being entirely honest, I’m surprised you haven’t come to me with a pregnancy scare sooner. I know you two aren’t just cuddling when you’re there all the time.”

She huffs an embarrassed laugh, shy as she looks away.

“Don’t worry about what Owen will say right now though, okay? Not until we know for sure, and you know what you want to do.”

She nods silently, squeezing your hand again in response. The other rests absently across her middle.

“No matter what, you’ve got me. If you don’t think I’m going to be the most annoying person left in the world throughout this pregnancy then you’re sorely mistaken,” you joke, making her laugh.

“Thank you,” she says, throat tight with overwhelming emotion. You smile, pulling her in by the hand to wrap your arms around her, hugging her tight.

“You’ve got this.” You whisper into her hair, kissing the top of her head. “I’m gonna be the coolest aunt ever.”

Mel scoffs playfully, and you both dissolve into giggles.

«« previous  ꩜ next »»

⁺˚⋆｡°✩ 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 ✩°｡⋆˚⁺

@glassclosetsecrets ✩ @chx-rrryc0la

[frownyalfred]

ghhh i'm so crazy about this noncon fortress bitching idea. 1000/10 horror, I'm personally terrified of Bruce being stuck with that uncanny form of the man he's wanted so badly. its a fucking house of horrors. like being constantly ripped in half. because on one hand, he feels GOOD so good hearing Clark's voice. and it's clark in every way. it sounds like clark. it looks like clark. it SMELLS like clark. saying every sweet word Bruce has ever wanted to hear, assuring him and trying to soothe his [abject terror] anxieties. almost convincing him the first time the ai introduced clark's form to bruce. but on the other hand, there are little tells that Aren't Clark, give away the ai's intentions. so beyond unsettling that Bruce never sees real Clark the same again. every time he catches one it violently rips him out of whatever brainwashing was starting to take hold and makes him feel even worse, exhausted, and primed for another round of manipulation.

"Kal" barely even gets to touch him after Bruce catches on. but one or twice when Bruce crashes from exhaustion, he wakes up to it standing over him. examining Bruce's new body. another round of sweet words and promises and praise and Bruce is so tired he just.. stops fighting. everything is too much, years of priming and small acts of horror and desire and pain and days' worth of exhaustion is more than he could ever train for. The fortress's accomplishment is unprecedented as Bruce slowly submits to its will.

and then real Clark rescuing him from the fortress??? Bruce coming undone from just a touch after being edged endlessly. he's sensitive and wired and still so terrified. his brain doesn't recognize that this Kal is real at first and Bruce just looks so scared as he breaks down after the high, wailing quietly (something clark has NEVER witnessed Bruce do) as Clark carries him back home.

hey so uhhhhh sorry for rambling in your ask box LMAO,, i thought i'd have nothing to say, i just wanted to tell you i'm crazy about this concept. like, i can feel it in my bones.

I think it’s even worse if it takes Bruce’s brain more time each round to find the flaw in Kal and spot the Fortress. The rooms and scenes are different every time. Familiar places. Memories from their past. It’s what Bruce wants but there’s this feeling that something is wrong. Kal is clingy, and he can’t leave for some reason. But as the modifications take hold, Bruce cares less and less. Or maybe he just can’t think as rationally after a certain point. When the real Clark finds him, how does he convince him it’s real?

[stitch-away]

bark like you want it

pairing: javi gutiérrez x male reader

summary: javi admits to his nick cage pet play fantasy and you decide to help him live it as best you can

tags: MDNI, smut, pet play, collar and leash, butt plug, anal fingering, oral sex, use of "good boy" and "puppy" for javi, reader makes javi bark and follow commands like a dog, javi wants to fuck nick cage lol

word count: 2.2k

a/n: pushing sub!javi g propaganda for the 3 fic this month, sorry not sorry kia <3 honestly thought it'd be funny if javi was looking at the nick cage pillow while he was getting fucked but that idea sounded like a crack fic,, i could not take that seriously LMAO. title from the sir mix-a-lot song 'bark like you want it'

pride month masterlist

your sex with your boyfriend javi has been fairly vanilla so far. which is not surprising to you, seeing as you guys haven’t been dating for very long. you wanted to discuss kinks and fantasies eventually but you wanted javi to be ready. javi told you about the fact that he hasn’t had many relationships, let alone physical relationships, due to his anxiety. he was mainly warning you about his inexperience but you took that as a reason to take things slower with him. you didn’t want to make his anxiety surrounding sex any worse by immediately jumping into kinks. a part of you doubted he even had kinks. the way he came almost immediately the first time you guys had sex made you think that he was the kind of person that was more than happy having vanilla sex. 

you didn’t know how wrong you were until today. it’s always the shy ones who surprise you with the fantasies they keep for late nights alone. 

javi sits next to you on the couch, fiddling with his hands in his lap as he stares at the floor. he finally looks up, a look of fear and almost shame on his face. you reach out, taking your hand in his and squeezing it.

“it’s okay, bebé,” you smile, “you can tell me. i promised you that we’d do whatever you wanna do tonight, i’m not here to judge you, i’m here to make you feel good.” javi smiles at you, giving a nod before taking a breath. 

“vale,” he mutters, holding eye contact with you firmly now, “i… i have this fantasy. it’s strange- i know it’s strange but… it makes me feel amazing just thinking about it.” he pauses for a moment before continuing. “i want to be nick cage’s dog.” you almost choke on nothing, your eyes shooting open in shock. javi’s face turns bright red, quickly turning away from you and burying his face in the couch. “you think i’m disgusting, don’t you?”

“no! no, javi,” you plead, snapping out of your shock and moving to comfort javi, “i don’t think you’re disgusting– look at me, amor. por favor.” javi turns around slowly and you pull him in for a hug. “there’s nothing wrong with your fantasy. i was just surprised. lo siento, amor. i didn’t mean to make you feel ashamed.” 

“you’re surprised?” javi asks, pulling back, as if to say his kinky nature was obvious.

“sí,” you chuckle, “i thought, since you were so nervous and you seemed so satisfied with vanilla sex, i didn’t even think that you’d be into anything kinky. but i’m honestly overjoyed that you’re such a dirty little pervert.” you chuckle, pinching javi’s cheek as he blushes hard from embarrassment. 

“‘m not a pervert,” javi mutters, half-heartedly.

“claro, amor,” you say, kissing him on the cheek, “so, tell me about this fantasy. i didn’t realise you were into nick cage in… that way. but tell me, i wanna know how to you want this to play out.”

“you actually wanna do it?” javi looks shocked as you nod your head. he takes a shaky breath and begins. “vale. how it goes is i’m nick cage’s dog. i’m on a leash and collar, even a tail buttplug, and completely naked. he walks me to the bed and commands me what to do. if i obey, he calls me a good boy and i get to kiss him, but if i misbehave he calls me a bad dog and spanks me. most of the time i imagine him fucking me, but sometimes, if i’m a really good boy, he lets me rut into him.” 

javi’s hiding him face again by the time he’s finished speaking. you’re still taken aback by the kinkiness of your boyfriend but you’re more than happy to indulge in his little fantasy. 

“well, i’m not nick cage,” you say, taking javi’s hands down from his face, “but i can certainly make you my puppy. if you’d like to do that?” javi nods instantly, his eyes flashing with lust. 

you smirk, pulling your lover into the bedroom. you open up your closet, pulling out a box of toys you keep, just for moments like these. 

“i got a collar, a leash, and a puppy tail buttplug in here,” you say, placing the box on the bed in front of javi, “do you wanna use the buttplug today or just get right to the fun part?” 

“i’d like it in for some foreplay,” javi mutters, “but we can take it out after.” you nod.

“alright,” you say, grabbing the butt plug out and rolling it in your hand to warm it up, “i’ll grab some lube and you just get undressed for me, amor.” you head to the ensuite bathroom, grabbing a bottle of lube and returning. 

when you return, javi is stark naked, laying back on the bed with his legs up to his chest with his tight hole on display. you can see javi’s already put on the collar and attached the leash. as you pick up the butt plug you see javi’s throbbing cock twitch. 

“joder…” you groan, crawling onto the bed, hovering over javi, “you’re already so fuckin’ desperate for me.” you lean into press a kiss on javi’s lips, you’re bulge pressing his hole. javi whimpers, bucking his hips against yours.

“nuh uh,” you tut, “be a good boy. you don’t want me to punish you, do you?” javi whines but shakes his head, forcing his hips to still. you sit up, kneeling up above him, squirting lube on your fingers.

“good,” you smirk, warming up the lube before pressing your fingers to javi’s hole. you fuck your fingers slowly into javi, scissoring your fingers to open him up. he moans and writhes underneath you, clenching as his hole tries to suck you in further. 

“greedy boy,” you chuckle, adding a third finger and curling them. you can tell when you’ve hit his prostate because his eyes shoot open and he lets out a desperate moan. his cock is twitching and aching at the lack of stimulation and his balls are tightening. 

“para- para,” javi mumbles through moans, “me voy a correr–” with that you remove your fingers, moving to gently rubbing javi’s inner thighs. 

“you’re really into this, aren’t ya puppy?” as soon as the word leaves your lips, javi whimpers. you grab the dog tail buttplug, coat it with lube and bring it to javi’s hole. “but, the thing is… dog’s don’t speak. they bark.”

javi’s head shoots up to look at you, eyes wide and mouth ajar. 

“you want me to bark?” he asks, surprised but undeniably turned on, “v–vale. but i’ll speak if i need to use the safe word.”

“claro, amor,” you say, squeezing one thigh as you slowly push the butt plug in, “if you need to speak at any moment, you can break the scene. i want to make this good for you.” javi lets out another whimper as his hole sucks the butt plug inside.

“gracias,” javi whines. to show his appreciation he looks over at you and lets out a little bark. he wiggles his hips, making the tail of the buttplug wag. 

“you’re just the cutest little puppy,” you smile, crawling forwards to press a kiss to javi’s lips. you bring your hands up to his chin, scratching his stubble. “let’s see if you’re smart too. let’s do some tricks.” 

you hop off the bed and stand in front of it. your cock is throbbing at the sight of your boyfriend wound up and needy for you on the bed but you ignore it. this is about javi first. 

“okay, sit,” you demand. javi rolls up to sit on his legs with his hands firmly planted in front of him with a proud look on his face. 

“lay down.” he moves his hands and presses his chest and chin down to the duvet. he pokes his ass up, giving it a wiggle again. 

“now, roll over.” javi obeys again, rolling over on the bed. as he stares up at you with pleading eyes. he’s been so good, he deserves praise. you smirk and give him another command.

“speak.” he sits up again, letting out two little barks for you. 

“good boy,” you coo, walking over and giving javi head pats, “such a good boy for me.” you lean in to kiss him, just as he had described in his fantasy.

“alright,” you say, grabbing javi’s leash and tugging it, “let’s give you your treat, ¿sí?” javi lets out a little whimper as you tug on his leash as he nods. 

you crawl back on the bed, laying back against the headboard and tying the leash to the top. you shuffle out of your pants and underwear, throwing them on the floor. you finally touch your aching erection, groaning at the stimulation. you tug javi forwards gently with the leash.

“come suck my cock, puppy,” you groan, pushing the head of your cock towards javi. he barks and leans down to lick at your leaking head. as he wraps his lips around your cock as you run your hand through his curls, gripping them softly, moving him up and down slowly.

“nghh– joder,” you breathe, “está bien– muy bueno, perrito.” you feel javi smile around you, moving to take you deeper in his throat. 

he holds onto your hips as he sucks you off and you move your hands down from his hair to his shoulders. you massage them softly for a moment before moving down his ribs, waist, and hips, ending with massaging his ass. you run your fingers into the crack of his ass before grabbing the butt plug. javi moans around your cock as you pull the buttplug out of his hole. it slips out with a lewd pop. discarding it to the side, you pull javi off your cock and give him a little kiss. 

“¿estás listo?” you breathe, your nose nuzzling against his. he bites his lip in excitement and nods. “alright then, turn around for me, puppy.”

javi shuffles round, displaying his gorgeous prepared hole you. you can’t help but press two kisses to his taint and hole, making him squirm and whine. you sit up and line your cock up with his hole. javi drops head down to the mattress, turning it to look up at you. 

as he wiggles his against your cock, you can no longer resist, pushing inside him. javi whines as you push into him, inch by inch. once you bottom out you give him a moment to adjust. javi lets out a bark and pushes his hip back. 

“be patient, puppy,” you tut, “i don’t wanna have to spank you.” he stills his movements and looks up at you with his big pleading eyes. you place a hand over his head and the other on his hip. 

“don’t look at me like that,” you groan, “not with my cock buried in your ass.” javi smiles at how easily he can get to you. the smile quickly morphs into a look of utter pleasure as you start to move. with each snap of your hips, javi moans louder and louder. as your cock hits his prostate, he barks which then devolves into a whimper.

“oh? was that good?” you smirk, leaning down to nuzzle under his ear, “want me to do it again?” javi shivers as your breath graces his neck. he nods, barking again. you aim your hips at his prostate again, thrusting into him, over again and again. javi starts to go dumb under you, his mouth hanging open and his eyes watering as all he can do bark and moan. his cock is dripping precum onto the mattress underneath him but he refuses to touch himself. that’s for you to touch. 

you see him glance at his cock and you realise what he wants. you immediately slip your hand round his hip to stroke his cock, feeling how wet it is, just from his precum. spurred on by javi’s desire, you press javi further into the mattress, fucking into him harder, watching as his moans and drool are swallowed by the duvet. 

“oh fuck,” you moan, “you feel so fucking good round me, javi.” you drop your head into the back of his neck. you let out pants and whimpers as you feel yourself getting closer. javi lets out a bark, letting you know he’s getting close too. you grit your teeth, willing yourself not to cum as you focus on javi. you tighten your grips round the head of his cock, stroking it faster. 

“come on, puppy,” you pant, “cum for me.” javi barks before tensing and shooting his load across your hand and the mattress. as he cums, his clenches round your cock, sending you over the edge as well. you fuck both of you through your orgasms as you fill javi’s hole full of cum. 

javi whines once you finally pull out, cum leaking out of his hole. you undo the leash and flop back on the bed, trying to catch your breath. javi crawls over to you, flopping down next to you and cuddling into your side. he nuzzles his nose under your chin, giving it a soft lick. 

“you really like being a puppy, don’t you?” you chuckle, looking down at javi. his cheeks tint pink as he nods. 

“gracias, mi amor,” javi whispers, “for entertaining my fantasy.”

“claro, mi javi,” you smile, cupping his face, “eres mi cielo, todo mi mundo. i’m always willing to try out your fantasies. te amo.” javi kisses you softly, as kiss full of love and gratitude. 

“y yo a ti, amor.”

♡♡♡♡

tags: @mushgloomz @perezososstuff

[clownyboiclownyboi]

do you have any goldenduo headcanons? every now and then their dynamic decides to superglue itself into the folds of my brain lmao and i struggle to find enough content to satisfy it XD

GOLDEN DUO!!

I don’t come across them often but I’m gonna assume you’re talking about Purpled and Tommy (and I’ll be doing all of these from a platonic standpoint) (also super sorry this came out so late)

Purpled and Tommy like going on picnics together! Tommy gets to spend the week preparing snacks and little treats and stuff with Ranboo (sometimes Micheal), and Purpled brings the blanket and a few pillows along. They meet at the same place every time, a small hill just off the horizon of Snowchester. They sit together for hours, snacking as Tommy embroiders and Purpled talks about his build plans. Here Tommy can be quiet, listen and watch and just be. Here Purpled can be loud, take up space, be human in a way he can’t be on jobs or with his brother. They don’t ever talk about these picnics, they simply show up every Thursday at the same time, on the same hill.

on the rare times Purpled goes out with bench trio, Tommy is the designated Purpled Buffer(tm). He makes sure any and all playful teasing directed to Purpled can’t be interpreted as a threat or actual insult, because knowing him he would get very defensive and even hostile, very quickly (and he has in the past). He also makes sure he sticks by Purpled constantly as protection, not really from people, because Purpled’s been able to handle himself since he was six, but from the noise and crowds and lights. He stays on lookout, because he wants to keep his friend safe just like his friends keep him safe.

Tommy taught Purpled sign language. Tommy had already started learning after the Festival, because Tubbo’s explosion injuries damaged his hearing, but after Exile Tommy also needed it for himself, so oftentimes he’d hang around Tommy more and use context clues to interpret each of his signs and commit them to memory. Tommy noticed, of course, but instead of bringing it up, he just asked sure to sign slower and use simpler gestures around Purpled for a while until he gets a grasp on the words, and then he slowly moves to harder words, teaching him without him catching on.

Purpled is even worse than Tommy when it comes to discussing his feelings or any sort of emotional conflict in general. He could be sitting next to someone, stock still, unable to tell them he’s in the middle of an anxiety attack even as he’s grinding his teeth and digging his nails into his palms hard enough to draw blood. Tommy has learned to work around this. He’s learned to listen to Purpled’s body language over his words about %70 of the time. He’s learned to phrase things differently, make it sound like Purpled’s doing him a favor when he lets him help. He’s learned to keep it casual, never make it a big deal on the rare occasion that Purpled works up the nerve to ask for a hug or some company while he works on his build. Purpled knows what he’s doing, but he doesn’t bring it up, silently grateful and relieved that he’s not being pushed outside of his comfort zone.

Purpled is extremely possessive of his builds. The most he lets Tommy do is help him gather resources or keep him company while he builds. No one, not Tommy nor his brother or anyone, is allowed to touch them. Tommy accepts this condition without question, but secretly he’s delighted every time he gets to watch his friend at work, simply because he looks so alive doing the one thing he loves.

Again, sorry this took so long, but I hope I did your request justice!

[pseudoartistpostsstuff]

Ik you said you’re on break but that’s okay! I can wait lmao

I’m obsessed with your yandere lu writings. I would love a yandere Time x fem reader where he like extra creeps on reader? I’m talking like spying on them n shit and maybe stealing an article of clothing just bc it smells like them

Lord help me that sounds so weird

Why am I like this

Help

Thank you so much for requesting for my boy Time!

Notes: No no I like your way of thinking, give me your worst. Me, personally, I can be way worse than that lol

In fact, I may have accidentally made this creepier than I meant to, idk

By the way, when I said underpants in this I meant those white pants thing Link uses, which is probably called tights or something, but I didn't want you guys to read this and imagine reader with, like, fishnets by accident lmao

Time has anxiety and I'll not elaborate

I was gonna post this tomorrow, but ya know

TWs: Yanderism, stalking, suggestiveness, clothing stealing.

Yandere! LU! Time x Reader

In a way, Time was like a cat.

There was no way you could just ignore random articles of your clothes going missing every time you went to bath.

No matter where you went to clean yourself, it was like one part of your outfit was picked out by hand and evaporated, be it your undershirt, underpants, socks, and sometimes even your underwear!

You tried everything to prevent it, hiding your clothes, setting up traps… You only drew the line when it came to anything to do with poison, since you couldn't bear to possibly end up killing an innocent animal just for the sake of clothes.

Even if said clothes somehow always ended up randomly returning unscathed to the rest of your laundry.

Time and time again, this topic was brought up in conversations with the men you traveled alongside. Yet, for some reason, the matter was also time and time again swept under the rug. It never got solved, neither did it ever get discussed, more often than not.

Starkly different from your point of view, Time found it pretty cute how you got all fussy over some little clothes, clothes which he could easily just make you throw away and buy new ones, it's not like he was lacking the rupees for it, after all.

Yet, he couldn't find it within himself to keep pressing on that matter, not when you looked just so embarrassed protesting against the idea of throwing away your under clothes, stressing about how comfortable your clothes were and about how they were your favorite because of that exact reason.

From what he's noticed, you barely ever wore anything else, no matter how many clothes they could offer you, which was proof of just how much you adored that outfit, each part that composed it having been carefully thought out before being picked out by your hand back when they first went to the market to look for an appropriate Hyrulean attire for you.

It was more than obvious by now that you weren't planning on getting rid of it any time soon.

Still, despite all your best attempts to keep your clothes safe, you couldn't really stop them from randomly disappearing, that is, unless you stopped bathing, and that was something you obviously couldn't even consider doing.

So, you simply sighed with resolution as you took off your clothes to once again go into the river next to the camp, wanting to wash off any grime that may have rubbed on you from the last battle the Links went through before you guys left for the next village.

A little ways down in the same river, you knew the other men were washing themselves, that way, a scream would be all they needed know to come over to help you, should anything happen.

Not that anything had ever happened to you while you were bathing.

You kind of felt like you were being watched, but then again, you learned to not pay attention to that, after all, your brain always seemed to like playing tricks on you, be it making you think you saw the shadows in the corner of your eye moving, or strange noises coming from bushes, all of which always proved to be absolutely nothing at all. Especially the strangely distinctive smell of Time rubbing off on your clothes...

Besides, whenever you looked around yourself to see if your senses were correct, you'd only be able to hear the calm silence of the river waters, almost as if the fish itself held back from swimming every time you tensed up.

The regular calming ambiance noises returned when you finally stopped being paranoid, going back to washing yourself with a relieved sigh, knowing the feeling of being watched was just a product of your tricky mind.

Sound doesn't travel much underwater. Should it be sounds of heavy breathing, sounds of something much larger than the river fish swimming, or even the heavy sounds of metal boots sinking into the sandy floor of the river with every step their wearer took.

Time observed with certain amusement as you walked around the shallow part of the river, your head just above the surface, your feet dangling dangerously near the deeper part. One wrong step and you could risk drowning.  

However, you seemed to be having fun while cleaning yourself, enjoying the cool, clean water. The elder, though, was having his own fun watching you.

He had to give it to you though, no matter what you did, your movements were always so captivating to him. He had already seen a lot in his life, many races, creatures and even monsters. Yet you had such a… Human way of behaving. Even if humans were so alike hylians, you still seemed different in a way, a very good way in his eyes.

What was even more interesting to him was the fact that you were still different from the other humans he'd met through his life.

More often than not your actions were unpredictable and random, not at all serious, it was like you somehow weren't very phased after getting kicked out of whatever universe you originally belonged in and into another. An universe that was extremely dangerous and distinct from yours. His universe.

You were very, very far from your home, yet he could still see some of it in the way you spoke, behaved and reacted to the things and beings around you.

Sometimes, he'd catch himself becoming infatuated again with the stuff that he was already used to, simply because you seemed so surprised and excited by them. 

Things he saw in his everyday life and just happened to ignore. Places, people, animals, creatures, plants, you name it. You gave him a renewed view of life, the whole "enjoy the small things in life" a concept so simple that still managed to make him feel truly alive again.

When he was with you he felt like Hylia and the Golden Goddesses themselves were paying him back for all heroic deeds he performed. In his eyes, you saved him.

In no time, watching the stars with you became a new routine, you were always so interested in them, yet still didn't seem to mind when he preferred to do something else, as to avoid looking at the moon.

Therefore, counting and catching fireflies was the next best thing.

And before he even noticed, he had bought an extra satchel at the market just so he could collect and buy those things that reminded him of you, things he noticed you pointing out whenever you saw. Pretty rocks, shiny crystals, colorful shells, and even those silly little trinkets that, in his eyes were useless, yet brought happiness to yours.

You'd even managed to make him blush the other day, when you told him he was acting like a cat, placing gifts by your bedroll at night, while you were asleep.

Yes, you made him blush. Him, The elder, The Hero Of Time that was also The leader their group, a group made up of the strongest men known in the history of Hyrule.

But, in a way, you were actually correct. 

Cats are very attached to their favorite person, enough to follow them around and watch them do the most simple things, like sleeping, or bathing.

He didn't feel like admitting to those things though, especially not to stealing your clothes.

At first, he assured himself that he was doing all that watching just to make sure you were safe, after all, bathing time was the only moment of the day when you were “fully alone” or so you thought. Time would never forgive himself if you accidentally got hurt because of his lack of attention to you, even if the “hurt” in question was merely a scratch on your knee from accidentally slipping while bathing.

He knew better than anyone that too much peace meant something bad could happen at any time, and too little peace was even worse! Therefore, there was no middle ground, you needed to be protected at all times. And the fact he also got a little fun out of guarding you didn't hurt anyone. After all, what the eyes don't see, the heart doesn't feel.

He didn't even try lying to himself about stealing your clothes, he wasn't that delusional, after all, liking your smell didn't sound like too good of an excuse to tell you, should you find out about that little habit of his.

In a way, he wasn't even hidden right now, per say, he was just not in plain view. 

In fact, sometimes even hoped you saw him, so that he'd be able to stop just watching and join you already.

After all, you wouldn't be able to get hurt if he was right there beside you, right?

Let him keep pretending that's the only reason he wanted to join you in the bath.

[hackedmotionsensors]

this is personal so please don't reblog this bc I think its weird when I say personal stuff and people reblog it I feel like i shouldn't have to turn that setting on?? Lol

but...both of my parents are seniors. And neither one of them are doing very well health wise. My mom has nerve issues with her hand, diabetes and bad blood pressure, and has had multiple heart attacks, My dad had a fall and never really recovered and had some weird medical problems that we thought were strokes but they never confirmed it. He also got covid at the hospital for those problems so THANKS arizona hospitals

Anyway I get all that. And I wish i could help or be around more. But unfortunately my job (unless we get some cool changes in the agreement) require me to live in LA. I also LIKE living in LA (surprisingly with how much I hate traffic LOL)

But I always get SO STRESSED OUT during the holidays bc I visit them and I need to cross reference with my brother (but again he might not even CARE or be aware that this is happening bc...he just...kinda doesn't care when it happens and I DO see it). I need to ask him or his wife if this happens when I'm NOT here because I have a feeling it gets WORSE when I visit.

But each time I visit my mom finds a way to be a complete and utter bitch at my dad. And my dad IS frustrating. I totally get it. He's always been really frustrating but now its like...frustrating bc he does things that could endanger himself or chooses ways to not make things easier for himself out of pride or just being a senior and not wanting to admit stuff? Idk. I know its a fairly common thing. He also got phone scammed a few months back out of 7k$ and we all were like WTFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF. He doesn't even like paying for COFFEE or good food for himself but LIED TO THE BANK to take out the money when they were like "This sounds like a scam sir" .....SO I GET IT. TRUST ME I GET IT.

But Thanksgiving was mostly good! Last Christmas (lol) I was stressed myself bc I was out of a job for a whole year and had to prep for a con and my car was on its last legs and like I said I just...get stressed LOL Its why i always drive. If I need to bail I absolutely will. Our family has NEVER been good during holidays. Its a lot of abused and abusive people with varying levels of addictions or mental illnesses (is it ANXIETY acting up this year? Or adhd induced RAGE from being overwhelmed! Has someone had TOO MUCH WINE and decided instead of being silly that they want to FIGHT!??! WHO CAN SAY!?!? ITS ANYONE'S GUESS!!!)

And Mom was just RELENTLESS last year. ANYTHING my dad did was a problem. ANYTHING he did...EXISTING...in a place he wasn't supposed to was like...a huge slight against her and because I had the audacity to be like "Mom relax. He's not doing anything" it meant I wasn't on her side or was insulting her or SOMETHING. And it completely blew out between me and her to the point she called my sister crying to try and be like LYDIA'S BEING HORRIBLE AND HATES ME ND SHE CALLED ME A BITCH(which I didn't but i VERYYYY nearly did because she was being a bitch) and like ...my sister is YOUNGER THAN ME LMAO. So my sister texted me like "what happened??" and I told her and she was like...AH. Okay I get it. Because my mom USED to live with her too but she pitched a fit at her and decided to basically run away from living with my sister and move in with her cousin. Then she left there (which honestly seemed the most stable?) and moved in with her sister. And she hated that too.(Running theme in this family is that my aunt is an ACTUAL bitch and I've known that since she came into the bathroom one time when I was sitting on the toilet bc I ran past her on the way into the house bc i REALLY had to pee and she came INTO the bathroom to scream at me for being rude.......but anyway) And then she ended up moving back in with my dad (They aren't married its just...basically roommates LMAO)

She hated living with my brother. My mom is like me. She's basically like a beta fish. She'll just bite the shit out of anything in her tank. I used to live with her and hated it.

LOL OKAY ANYWAY LONG STORY BUT basically....it was a fairly good holiday this time in comparison. I also left after a single day lol Bc I hate thanksgiving to begin with. Not 100% related to my family. I just think the holiday is stupid and pre-gaming christmas and a huge waste of money for someone who travels bc I'm gonna see all these maniacs in three weeks anyway.

I also had a deadline so I had a really good excuse to dip. Thank god.

But bc my parents helped me last year a lot I was like Let me do something REALLY minimal and take y'all out to breakfast. And on the way there my mom is sitting in the back seat behind my dad. My dad uses a cane but she doesn't like sitting in the front anyway. But she was sitting behind him and suddenly 'THE CAR SMELLS'.

Me genuinely thinking something was wrong like maybe I left the travel jerky i bought to eat on the way open. Or maybe I randomly smelled. Its a new car but I'm so used to my old car than anything potentially a problem is a stressor. But no. It was a not subtle way of bitching about my dad. And I was like....okay whatever let it go. Dad didn't say anything so lets just ignore it. Its only another hour or so. And then we get to the restaurant we were going to. My dad and I both get eggs and I ask if she can pass the ketchup. She hands ME the ketchup no problem. Then my dad uses it and sets it on the table. Pretty normal.

This is a thing ~I~ like to do. I like to put the condiments back in the holder thingies. Its not a deal breaker but its like...just a thing. Why have another thing in the way when we can put the ketchup back. So I can't reach it so I'm like "Mom can you tuck this back into the thing" "No. I don't want germs".

I knew exactly what she was doing and was like "Just put it back. I like to put them back." "NO. Its dirty. People touch it"

By this point the vein in my forehead is already throbbing. I go FINE. ITS FINE. I know exactly who you mean. And honestly I'm sure my dad does too and is just.....getting through it. I KNOW she's trying to rile ME up. She picks like a little fly at my dad all the time and its not to get a rile out of him bc she knows he won't really do anything about it. Unless she's hoping he'll blow up eventually and die. IDK (It might not be that drastic BUT Y'NEVER KNOW!!!)

So I let it go. And then she does that thing that bullys or abusers or idk what to even call this but she's done it to me HER WHOLE LIFE. She starts trying to act cute. "Can I have a bite of your eggs Lilly <3"

me "No. I don't want germs"

And now mom is mad. Not a total blow out but I know she's pissed at that. And I don't want this to totally melt down so i offer her the eggs if she really wants but she's already in a snit. THANKFULLY!!!!!!!!!! it blows over. Probably due it it being a massive carb bomb after yesterday's carb bomb. So before we head out I'm like Can you put the ketchup back now? I wanna put the syrup back too. SHE HUFFS. GOES "FINE" and picks it up as if it was covered in dog shit by the tip of her fingers.

AND I AM SCREAMING IN MY HEAD

THAT THIS IS WORSE THAN CHILDREN. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW. And she goes back into 1) doing NOT SO SUBTLE jabs at my dad. Using old insults she's always used but not SAYING its because my dad touched it but that PEOPLE touched it. BITCH YOU TOUCHED IT FIRST AND THEN ATE YOUR FOOD. She only washed her hands before eating bc she went to the bathroom AND she never wears a mask. You give two fucks about germs.

And then she has the audacity to say to me "THATS WHAT WAITRESSES ARE FOR"

which is A HUGE FUCKING TRIGGER FOR ME BC I USED TO WORK IN SERVICE. AND SO DOES SHE. IT DOESN'T ~MATTER~ WHAT THEIR JOB DESCRIPTION IS. IT HURTS ~NO~ ~ONE~ to pick up after yourself A LITTLE. Its just putting the ketchup BACK in the FUCKING CONTAINER. ALSO. WE VISIBLY SAW HOW SWAMPED THEY WERE. Its Black Friday they were hauling ass that day and we didn't end up waiting SO long but it was definitely a wait bc of how busy it was. So you're gonna make this lady who was ONLY NICE TO US. Didn't charge me an extra coffee bc I'm a mad lass who had a latte and a black coffee lmao AND She was Latina. Was there not some....Latina togetherness!??! HELLO!??? Very Mexican't mom. (we're not Mexican lmao)

And then on the drive home god I don't even remember exactly what it was bc the blood was in my ears and I was just trying to get them home so i could leave. She said something else that was VERY POINTEDLY about my dad and called it "PEOPLE" again. Like he's not stupid cmon man.

Like just for NO REASON. NOTHING my dad did had anything to really set her off on this. She was just being MEAN to be MEAN. And she KNOWS i hate it.

When i grew up I was always a lot closer to my dad and I can empathize with that. But...idk man we just had more in common? Even if she wasn't working super hard to make ends meet and he was middle class like I GET IT.

But there's resentment and just being a fucking bitch for no reason.

And again this is not to say like Oh my dad the poor uwu old man always getting beat up wah wah wah. Bc again he does a LOT to frustrate me on like...a blood pressure exploding way. But for him its just like...why would you DO THAT. Like we were in the middle of a walk with the family (my brothers family and me and the parents) and he goes OH YEAH LYDIA I MEANT TO SAY....You owe me money for the phone. Which was so fucking embarassing like why would you SAY THAT!?!?! Like i was so frustrated and like ugh. LOL And a thing my mom gets at my dad about is she's like "I SEE SENIORS ALL THE TIME OLDER THAN YOUR DAD THAT RUN MARATHONS" or whatever nonsense. And I'm like mom YOU can't even run a marathon or do half the thing these people say but also SOME PEOPLE ARE DIFFERENT!?!?!? My dad had a pretty bad fall a while back and never really recovered from it. So its really frustrating when he CARRIES AROUND HIS CANE or chooses to not bring it with him...and he just...doesn't use it. Like literally I was like Dad you have to USE your cane to stand up and walk not just carry it around like a purse. "Its a psychological thing more than anything" *cue me bursting all the blood vessels in my brain* and my mom being like SEE!? I have to deal with this ALL THE TIME. *shakes desk* BUT YOU MAKE THINGS WORSE BY BEING A BITCH AT THE SAME TIME AGHHHHHHH

I just....genuinely wish I had normal parents and a normal holiday get together instead of dreading the end of the year that its something I HAVE to do because I genuinely love these people but the drive back my chest hurt, my head hurt, my throat hurt from ranting in my car my JAW hurt from clenching it from stress.

Like at this rate I'm gonna die before they do holy shit. And I think also because they're seniors and in bad health that I worry about them at the same time because....its not fair to either of them that they had to end up moving in together (It ends I think in march thankfully) and because they're seniors that I know...well this could be the last holiday i spend with them. So I make the effort, risk the covid and just go visit them when i can. But holy fucking shit.

lmao my mom LITERALLY just called me now like MY GODDDDDD LMAO HOW DID SHE KNOWWWWWW

[donnabenevientosimpingzone]

🔫

Can I have more Donna headcanons plz. I'm a lonely lesbian who loves fiction female Italians

Lmao I got plenty<3

- y’all probably know I interpret her pretty differently. She’s a lot stronger and independent than the normal but she’s still a super anxious and shy individual. She’s a beautiful paradox I cannot begin to describe.

- She’s high functioning depressed and autistic. On the surface she’s someone who has order and routine- who can handle being at meetings with others and talk to people as equals- but spend enough time with her and you’ll see that she will just lay in bed and not get out. That she thinks herself as smaller than others.

- Angie is a side of herself she’s stored away, the memories and personality Donna had with Claudia. In order to keep that final happiness, all those memories are stored in Angie and has influenced the doll to be the way she is.

- Donna has never experimented with her powers to know their full capabilities. Even the concept that she can cause nightmarish hallucinations to kill someone without raising a blade terrifies her.

- She has an accent that comes through when she’s tired or just not thinking about it. Sometimes it’s so heavy that even she’ll jump at the sound of her own voice.

- Cursed solely in Italian. Angie’s the one that says “fuck” and Donna can live through her.

- Donna cannot take full control of Angie, just heavily influence her- if Angie doesn’t want to do something then Donna can’t force her hand. It rarely happens though.

- On uncommon days she’ll walk through her woods around the manor with Angie. Her anxiety, esteem, and motivation must all line up but every time she doesn’t regret it and comes home with a sense of peace.

- A horrible fidget when she’s not aware of it. During meetings or talks or anything that her brain is running anxiety on- she’s still as stone. But at home, she’ll speak to Angie with her mind unable to focus on one thing. Her hands will play with her hair, tug at her dress, tap against a teacup- head swaying to watch strands of hair swish in and out of her vision- feet shuffling against the floor, picking at scabs or the peeling skin beneath her fingernails- just to name a few. You’d have to be very close to her to see any of it in action for yourself though.

- Existentially stuck in the past. Although she’s aware of the present and what the future may hold- she’s constantly thinking about the past, comparing it, using it to determine what person she is. Getting close to her is a difficult task when the past still haunts her and controls her.

- During episodes of breakdowns where she just does not want to live like this anymore, she’ll pick and pull at the Cadou infesting her eye. Cursing it for keeping her alive.

- Her anger manifests in two ways; a depressive self hatred that causes her to coil in on herself- where she feels guilty for being angry at all and tells herself over and over to just suck it up, it’s not a big deal- or an expressed destruction where she loses majority of control over her powers and dolls run rampant.

- Her sadness is a building cycle. She’ll get upset at something and cry, but absolutely hate herself for it and scold herself for being weak, which then makes her feel worse, and she’ll continue this cycle until she’s exhausted and just can’t cry anymore.

- She’s a mix of self loathing and self love. On one hand she will destroy any mirror she sees her reflection in and go days punishing herself for simply existing, but on the other hand she really does want to love herself. It manifests as a weird ball of complex feelings- she could be proud of an accomplishment but also feel shit that it isn’t the number one best accomplishment ever- and that she’s a fool for being happy about it. Yet she keeps it around, calling upon it as a comfort… even if at the same time it brings her pain.

- Simultaneously wants romance and affection but also absolutely terrified by it. She’ll read the books and let her creativity run wild, surprisingly a hopeless romantic, but if it’s even an inch close to her in reality- she’ll rather run.

- She’s on the autistic spectrum to mistake normal, platonic affection as romantic. Hell even if she doesn’t have feelings for that person- she’ll gaslight herself to “catch feelings.” In the past, she’s fucked up a relationship that way- becoming an aggressively toxic person for the attention, affection- wanting the person only for herself and herself only- and unknowingly manipulating them to fulfill that selfish, unconscious desire. She’s realized her mistake months after, and has become much more reserved and mindful because of it.

- A sponge for knowledge. She’s a big ole nerd, loves anything to do with science, has little mock research she’ll do with her own garden that’ll tickle her. While she herself is more on botany, Angie ends up soaking in more zoology, both of their knowledge combined is beyond impressive.

- She feels music very deeply in her heart. Doesn’t matter if it’s instrumentals or with lyrics, it resonates with her strongly and she has strong attachment to particular songs based on memories, feeling, and hope.

- Sleeps with some sort of noise- white noise, music, the rain- sleeping in complete silence unnerves her.

- Wakes up to Angie screaming in her face every morning. Wouldn’t have it any other way<3

- Angie eats and drinks in small amounts, the Cadou is still a parasite that needs substance, but since it’s a part of Donna’s Cadou- Donna can sometimes feel the effects of what Angie eats. Woman could be taking a stroll and suddenly taste dirt cuz Angie ate shit chasing a squirrel.

- Protective of the remaining eye. The Cadou took away the sight in the eye it infects so Donna has learned to deal with challenged depth perception. She’ll often reach for things too far right or left if she ever got full vision back.

- Silent walker without even meaning to be. She also somehow manages to silently run (if she is on the unique occasion to jog through the woods).

- Doesn’t sweat easily. Her body is already naturally pretty cold so any form of workout will need to be pretty long/intense for her to start sweating.

- She is aware her body (especially at the ends) is pretty cold. She refuses to give anyone hand shakes because she’s secretly Elsa and will freeze yo’ ass.

- Angie jokes that Donna stands in the sun to photosynthesize, rather than to warm herself up like some kinda sunbathing lizard.

- Surprisingly very warm during the winter, Donna’s an ice pack in the summer and a heat pack in the winter.

- No she doesn’t know why either wheeze.

- On the few occasions she’s free from her anxieties- Donna is quite chaotic. She used to be the prankster of the family and still has part of that alive within her- Angie especially has to be the victim of said pranks (but she loves it no matter how loudly she complains)

- Doesn’t like to have pictures of herself taken, but Donna does have a rare few in-the-moment photos she adores.

[sanemisstalker]

c-can you elaborate on giyu’s everything? and if you’d like i can add some of my own n we can compare n contrast and delve into the hashira’s kinks together

I would love to elaborate on Giyu's everything :) I love Giyu and his weird little ass, please tell me about yours!!!

original post referenced : https://www.tumblr.com/sanemisstalker/725058530729721856/gyomei?source=share

Not including CW because it's a kink/fetish list. The list is the warning lmao.

Daddy kink (Giving/Recieving)-

I think Giyu, on the once in a blue moon occasion where he likes to feel dominate, likes to also feeling caring. Likes to feel like he's capable of taking care of you, a provider, and such a title just- rings to him for that.

I also think Giyu likes to feel cared for, and above Master and Domme, I think he just prefers Daddy. It's not like a DDLG thing, I think he just- wants to hear the word because it sounds just a little taboo. Wants to be able to space out for just a moment and give you control over him in every way.

Omorashi (recieving)

I think Giyu probably had an incident when he was younger, and it formed a humiliating anxiety that made him more prone to holding his bladder. He grew out of the habit with age, but really really likes having his bladder out sourced.

Loves the feeling it gives him to hold, to have a watchful eye telling him when he can and can't go- even worse is that you're prone to this behavior in public.

Humiliation-

I think, similarly, Giyu likes being humiliated. Specifically in a display case way. Likes having his cock berated, and his body shamed for its basic needs and natural appearance.

However, similarly, I think he's a little prone to sadism in this regard. Once again, the blue moon where he does dominate, I think he's prone to some... particularly teasing and ... unpresentable requests. Like to make you cum while doing or saying really embarassing things-

Cum-

I think he likes to be bukkaked specifically. Squirt, semen- I think he likes his own cum being spewed in his own face more than anything- even better in his mouth.

Anal (Recieving)-

Giyu likes having his prostate stimulated, but he doesn't know what that's called, so he just subsides to anal as a whole. He loves the feeling of having both his cock stroked, and his ass fucked. It's borderline euphoric and dissociative for him. The feeling of something ramming into him again and again, hard, harder is just the best.

Really really stir up his insides, he was made to take- to be fucked. Remind him of his place.

Fellatio-

I think Giyu likes the way mouths feel around his dick, and I think he likes sucking dick, because it's one of the ways he can get his partner off without having to fear sex dissatisfaction from the other party.

Praise/Degradation -

I think Giyu likes being called a good boy, a sweet boy, a smart boy, any kind of boy- it makes him feel like he's lost all responsibility for everything bad ever. He likes being told how handsome he is, and how good he is at taking dick, or being fucked (Loves to hear about how that's his real purpose. How his only real role is to be a fleshlight, and how good he is at it.)

He also loves being called a whore, a slut, a urinal. Loves being reffered to as 'Dumb' and 'braindead'.

Tries his best to praise back regardless of the situation, or how fucked out he is. Will always be praising your thrusts or the weight of your hips ramming down on him.

Forced exhibitionism (recieving)-

I think Giyu likes to be put on display, but can never verbally admit to this more than once, so he prays and prays and prays you hear it the first time it comes out of his mouth because he will never have the gaul to ask for something like this again.

Feels very inhumane under other people's eyes, especially when they're on his privates. Likes getting fucked and hearing the group watching talk about how he's taking it so good, or ignoring him completely so he's forced to do something humiliating to get attention back on him. To get their 'respect' back.

Loves seeing people with pussies finger themselves to the sight of him getting fucked. It drives him absolutely wild.

Dub/non-con (recieving)-

Doesn't always like having a choice. He often conflicts on the idea, feels like he isn't good enough or doesn't deserve sex, so he really appreciates someone forcing pleasure on him. It makes him think way less and makes everything so much easier for him in the long run, because Giyu can't always muster up the ability to feel good. Can't always muster up and erection no matter how bad he wants to-

Being used in that capacity feels almost comforting, knowing he can still do things even if he doesn't always have the will to.

He also has a very short conversation about it, I think. Explaining to his partner that he does want to be coerced. Does want them to push his boundaries because he wants them, all the time, sometimes the void just wants him more. His safe word would be something very silly, to make the both of you laugh a little and raise the mood- so he won't feel bad for not being able to please.

I also think Giyu loves black out sex. Getting shit faced and not remembering what happened to him- It let's him imagine that he, in some capable world, had no inhibitions.

Also really likes thinking about what was done to him.

Forced Bisexuality-

I put this for both Sanemi and Giyu and I fullforce stand by the fact that they both really like sucking dick, but do not want to admit to it.

I wrote that polycule thing about them a while ago, and I stand firm by it. I think specifically for Giyu it's less about him being into men (he is a little bit into guys, Sanemi is very into guys) and more about being dominated on a masculine level. Giyu likes how it feels to take the sexual brunt. Having a loving partner guide his lips to the cock of another man, or finger him open for a man to take- feeling the cum drip out after he's been used.

The thought makes Giyu's stomach do flips. The thought of liking such rough treatment.

Fingering-

I think Giyu likes to watch people with pussies finger themselves. He doesn't get the same from asses- He really likes seeing a pussy contract around fingers, loves feeling it, too. I think he's really talented with his hands.

Spit-

I think he likes being treated poorly, and spitting in his mouth/at his face will get him into that headspace immediately.

Submission-

While I believe he's capable of typical vanilla sex, and occasional Domination, I believe Giyu is a submissive at heart.

Shorter than him-

I think Giyu naturally finds people shorter than him cute. Good, praisable height to be at. A good head pat height. Good cuddle height (contrary to all, he likes to be big spoon. Being little spoon makes him feel trapped- prefers if you both just hugged and cuddled with your head to his chest)

But also, Good fuck height. Great fuck height, even. You look good on his dick, and you look great in him, making him feel smaller than he is. It's a win win.

[chaotic-on-main]

So glad you reblogged this because I did not see your post about this event before. And I almost missed it! 😱 But now I'm here… hi, Sky! Congrats on your milestone, dear! ❤️

I would be interested in one matcha green tea ice cream with cookie crumbles on top. If it's okay, could it be something like Levi comforting the reader while they're anxious and stressed? Something with nice calming domestic vibes maybe?

Order up!! One matcha green tea with cookie crumbles for Rose!!

Sky's Summer Fall and 250 Follower Event!

☾ Pairing ➼ Levi Ackerman x cisfem!Reader

☾ Content/Warning ➼ modernAU, pregnancy, anxiety, established relationship, pregnancy reveal

☾ A/N ➼ hi rose!! again, sorry it's taken me so long to get to this. this wasn't the initial path i had planned, but i think it went better than expected!! also i know i said i wouldn't write a pregnant reader, but i was inspired and i love the idea of dadvi even though i don't see myself wanting kids. there's something to unexpectedly soft about dad levi, and i love to imagine it. i mean, he's already so dad coded considering how many kids he adopts lol. also for anyone seeing this, the rest of my requests are no longer summer themed LMAO. i'm gonna have to do something simple for my next event a;lsdkfjalj

☾ Word Count ➼ ~1.9k

The pattering of raindrops on window panes is a sound that brings comfort to you, doubly so during this time of year. Orange and red leaves lie dormant on the wet pavement only to be run over by various cars going home for the evening. With the end of the year holidays looming around the corner, excitement fills the air. But not for you. Instead, it's overwhelming anxiety, and the rain does not bring the comfort you seek.

You're so in your head that you don't hear the keys in the door and the light footsteps of your husband coming home from work. As you toss some chocolate chips into the red bowl full of light brown dough, your mind bounces from one thought to another. Some thoughts hurt worse than others and you find yourself almost choking up until you force yourself to think of something else.

Long, cold fingers wrap around your wrist as you go to pick up a silicone spatula, holding your arm up midair. You're so startled at the sudden touch that you drop it straight into the bowl – thank god it was mixed enough to not splatter. When your eyes snap to the source, the automatic relief that normally comes with seeing those beautiful gray eyes doesn't wash over you. You’ve underestimated the anxiety that courses through your veins like ice.

“What's wrong?” Your husband's low voice comes out careful.

“Oh, it’s nothing to worry about right now. Welcome home!” You force out, your lips pulling back on your teeth in a reassuring smile. Levi Ackerman has known you for far too long, and he wasn't stupid. His eyes scan the messy kitchen counters with furrowed brows.

“I count at least 4 mixing bowls, most half filled and only a few finished products. Either you've signed up for a bake sale, or something is wrong. You only get like this when something is bothering you.” Levi's eyes go back to yours.

“I- uh. It's nothing, really.” You check the clock on the stove and gasp. “I didn't realize the time, and I haven't even started on dinner yet. I'm so sorry.” You quickly push aside your mess to make room for some space.

“Go sit down.” Levi says as he puts his keys and phone in the little wicker basket that sits on the far end of the counter.

“No, it's okay! I can do this.” You don't even know what to make for dinner. You've been in a downward spiral all day and haven't thought that far ahead. The sound of glass bottles rattle as you open the fridge doors to peek at your options - only to find them extremely limited. You should have gone to the grocery store earlier today.

The fridge closes in front of you as Levi pushes his way in front of you. Suddenly his hands are cupping your face, thumbs stroking your cheeks in a way he knows is comforting to you. You just now notice his hair slicked back, stuck in place from the rain outside. Black eyebrows scrunch together in concern as he stares at you.

“Levi, I don't need help. I can do this myself.” You mutter.

“Go sit down.” He repeats, softer this time. You stare back, trying to find the energy to argue. But you have none, so you make your way over to the plush navy couch in the living room. In a means to help comfort you, you pull your knees to your chest and stare out the window. Night time has made its way home, the yellow streetlights hazily glowing through the cold rain. It takes everything within you to focus on what you see and hear, and not what races through your mind.

Either you dozed off or fell into a trance because before you know it, Levi comes over and taps your shoulder. You blink a few times as your eyes adjust to what he's holding out to you – a bowl and a glass of water.

“I bet you haven't hydrated once today, have you?” He raises a brow.

“I've been busy?” You give him a small smile, but take the glass anyway. He sets the bowl down in front of you on the coffee table. You didn't even need to see it to know what it was as the smell of it wafts from the kitchen to your nose. Spaghetti, and Levi's spaghetti at that. Well, technically Kuchel’s - Levi's mom – recipe. From the moment he had made it for you when you both first started dating, you knew this was the best recipe you have or will ever taste.

Not only was it delicious, though, it was comforting. It was home.

“Oh, Levi.” You sigh as you reach over to place your glass down so you can pick up the warm bowl in two hands. The smell of herbs and tomatoes dance in your nostrils as you breathe in deeply. You don't hesitate to poke your fork into the red pasta and slurp up the saucy noodles.

The sofa shifts as Levi sits next to you, leg crossed as he leans back with his own bowl in hand. He doesn't say anything as he digs in, eyes looking out to the darkened window. It stays silent save for the quiet smacking and the metal clinking on porcelain. For a while, you're distracted yet again as you fill your tummy but eventually your bowl is empty and the dread starts creeping back in.

“Did you want more or…?” Levi breaks you out of your thoughts and your eyes focus back to what you were looking at – the red-streaked bottom of the bowl.

“Oh, no I'm good. Thank you for making dinner. I'm sorry I couldn't have it done by the time you got home.” You smile softly at him as you hand him your bowl. His lips twitch as he regards you. He takes the bowl from you and you think he's about to get up but instead, he sets it on the coffee table and shifts so that he's facing you fully.

“There's nothing to apologize for, dummy. What's going on in that head of yours?” He reaches over and taps your forehead gently with a forefinger.

“I don't know if this is the right time.” You whisper, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

“I'm home for the night, we have plenty of time before bed.” His hand trails down your face and cups your jaw as he holds your gaze. “What's going on?”

Reaching up, you rest your hand over his and lean into his touch. Then with a shuddering breath, you gently pry his hand off and stand up. Without another word, you make your way to the master bathroom and retrieve what you're looking for. Before exiting, you bend over the sink to take a few deep breaths. You just need to rip this off like a bandaid, you keep repeating to yourself.

Making your way down the hallway back to the living room, your fingers shake. The room grows silent as you hold the little white stick up to eye level the moment you step in front of your extremely confused husband.

Levi has to squint to see the little pink plus sign. There's a range of emotions that flood his face past the initial shock. You know when the realization hits him because his wide eyes flit over to yours as he checks to see if you're kidding. You only nod your head back. There's a moment of excitement that lights up in his eyes before the same look of anxiety that no doubt mirrors your own stares back at you.

Your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach at that.

“I-" Levi chokes on his words.

“It's real.”

You hear Levi inhale loudly as he runs his fingers through his hair and step back as he processes. You’ve been with Levi for so long but even you didn't know how he would react. Children weren't off the table, but you both had agreed to start a family when the time was right. To you, this was the worst possible time with Levi starting a new job and your writing career finally taking off. His reaction is enough to confirm those thoughts. Or, at least that’s what you thought.

“I know this is awful timing. And I’m sure we're not ready. I'm so-" Your last words are cut short into a squeak as a pair of strong arms pull you into a warm chest, the sudden movement causing the pregnancy test to fall and bounce onto the rug. You can feel Levi's heart beating a mile a minute against your own.

“Don't apologize.”

“But you’re not excited.” You’ve started crying and you can feel your tears seeping into Levi's shirt. He pushes you away from him and holds you there. His dark eyes bounce between yours as he regards you.

“Who said I wasn't?"

“I- just your face-"

“I won't pretend to say I'm not nervous. You know, Kenny was the only father figure I had and he wasn't around, not when it mattered, at least. I'm scared, actually.” His eyebrows furrow to match the concern that laces his tone.

“Levi-"

“But this is exciting, and I'm thrilled. And we'll navigate through this like we always do. But, how do you feel about it?”

“Well, I guess I'm scared too. Anxious. Our jobs are just taking off, and while I'm excited for a family with you, I'm just not sure how to take this.” You pull a hand up to wipe away the salty tears that streams down your face.

“We have 9 months, give or take. That's plenty of time for us to figure things out. But is this what you want?” Levi let's go of your arms to cup your face again. That moment of hesitance that graced his features is no longer there, only replaced by love.

“Do you think we'll be ready by then?”

“Who knows. But we can try. We'll figure it out together.” Levi pulls you back in and holds you in his tight embrace. You bury your face in his shirt, once again letting it soak up any leftover tears.

“If it's any consolation, I think you'll be a great dad. I watch the way you interact with your little cousin during get-togethers.”

“Tch. If our child is anything like Mikasa, I'm sure we'll be fine. But if they're like her friend Eren, we're starting over.” You laugh at that and slap his chest playfully.

“Levi, you can't say shit like that.”

“I'm just kidding. Mostly. That Eren kid has something wrong with him, I swear.”

You hold on to him in silence for a bit, taking note of the slowing heart beat between the two of you as the news finally sinks in. You were going to be a mom. You were going to be a parent with Levi.

“Someone needs to eat this. This is way too much for just the two of us.” You hear Levi chuckle. You can't see it, but you know he's staring at the mess you've made all day. You'll be up until 3am making sure everything gets baked so it doesn't go to waste.

“Three of us.” You lean back to look at your husband, smiling at that comment.

“You're right, the three of us.” You feel as Levi gently rests the palm of his hand on your stomach and leans down to kiss you softly. Your anxiety still lingers, but now it's tinged with relief because no matter what life throws at you, Levi is here.

tagging: @humanitys-strongest-bamf @romantichomicide95 @youre-ackermine @roseofdarknessblog @missamity @levis-squishy-cheeks @icansmellsouls @dkbktk420 @elnyrae @secretmoneybearvoid @apolloshaiku @sujiroses @jadam724 @e-riellaaa @kamyru @highgoon69 @missyasma @kingkonoha @sckerman @notgoodforlife @nube55 @svftackerman @velouria17 @melodyuzumaki

if you're not a part of my taglist but would like to be (or take off lol), please fill out the taglist on my pinned post!

[void-botanist]

angst prompt time

❛ we just can’t seem to get it right, huh? ❜

Hot off the presses, traumatized dudes Sid and Colin break up for a year and then try getting back together and it goes. questionably. Nothing explicit in this one but it's basically Sid getting his buttons unintentionally pressed and writing it gave me anxiety so I am putting it under a cut lmao

---

Colin stopped pacing to press the sides of his hands to his forehead like he was too angry to even look at Sid. Anxiety flooded the pit of Sid’s stomach, overriding his low-level fear with the feeling of bracing for impact.

“Why is this so fucking hard?” Colin’s hands snapped down in front of him for emphasis, and then he started pacing again. “Why is it always like this?”

Sid stared at the floor, squeezing his hands together too hard in his lap. What he wanted to say is that it wouldn’t be like this if Colin wasn’t always like this. So angry. So...scary, honestly. Which felt ridiculous to think when he was a full head taller than Colin, and all Colin ever did to be upsetting was give dirty looks and yell and walk away in the middle of conversations. It shouldn’t hurt the way it did. Colin wasn’t his fucking parents. And yet...he really did sound like them.

Colin paused to look back at him. “Why don’t you ever say anything?” The anger in his voice had turned into a wildness, a desperation, and even worse, an exasperation.

Sid tried to make the words come together honestly. Because it wasn’t true anymore that he didn’t have anything to say—he just couldn’t fathom how to phrase his feelings in a way that wouldn’t make everything worse. No matter what, he wouldn’t be expressing what he really meant, or he would sound too mean, or Colin would jump down his throat about it. Just imagining all the possible results made him want to cry, but he couldn’t even do that, because then he’d also get yelled at. So he stared and felt his breath shudder as he tried to keep himself together. Because he wasn’t allowed to just walk out of the conversation. There was no way he could make his legs do that.

Colin was silent for way too long, but Sid didn’t dare to look at him. Then it would be obvious that there were tears starting to pool in Sid’s eyes despite his best efforts. If Sid just stayed quiet for long enough, this conversion would finally end and he could stop pretending that he didn’t want to bury his face in his pillow and sob.

Colin’s weight settled next to him on the edge of the bed, then a hand appeared on his shoulder.

“Hey,” Colin said, his voice still tense as hell but his tone a lot more gentle.

“Hi,” Sid managed, eyes on the floor.

“Are you okay?”

This would probably be over faster if he just said he was. “No.”

“Well, we have that in common.”

Sid looked over. Colin wasn’t almost crying, but his face was crinkled into something like regret.

“I don’t know why this shit pisses me off so bad,” Colin continued. “I just...I don’t know how to talk to you, it’s just...”

“I don’t know how to talk to you either,” Sid said in that low, neutral voice that always sounded mean and sullen when he used it, but in his body just felt like fear.

“Can you try?” Colin’s sideways look said he wasn’t totally sure he wanted to hear it, but he didn’t say anything else.

Sid weighed his wording options again. “Can you not yell like that?” Something about Colin seemed to pull away and he scrambled to explain. “It just—it stresses me out. It’s hard to talk to somebody if you don’t know whether they’re going to yell.”

“I can try. But you gotta actually talk to me.”

Sid’s heart sank, even though that was the obvious thing for Colin to want. “Okay.”

After a couple seconds of nothing, Colin sighed. “Do you even want to do this? Us?”

Maybe it wasn’t his heart sinking. Maybe it was his entire being. “Why are you asking me that?”

“Because we just can’t seem to get this right,” Colin said without looking at him. “This is at least the second time, the second town, the second planet—and we’re still just...is this even fun anymore? I feel like I’m turning into my fucking mom.”

Sid almost wanted to laugh. “Which one?”

Colin gave him half a smile. “Both of them. So fuck me, I guess.”

---

Pinging the AOM taglist because this happens in the sequel: @vacantgodling @writernopal @multi-lefaiye

To join or leave my taglists, fill out this form.

[karai1111]

not sure how to name this thing

(Sick Jeongyeon and her caretaker y/n)

(Author's note: First time I ever post anything I write that is not emotional dumping. Wrote this when I was at my peak fan time lol. Hope it's readable and is not too bad. Also I have people who knows me irl on here so HOPEFULLY yall won't judge me lmao the girl needs some escapism sometimes.)

Jeongyeon has a habit of hiding her problems from others until everything gets too heavy for her to bear. Whether it is an injury, an illness or mental discomfort, she’s usually the one to suck it up and stick it out.

“It is hard to open up” as she always says with a guilty smile. Tears were shed, you both used to intensely fight and bicker because of this. There was a period of time when the silent treatment you both used got so loud that it’s deafening. That was a difficult journey.

Jeongyeon has gotten a lot better though, you could see it in the way she got more attached to you. Your relationship with Jeongyeon has grown deeper over the years, even though Jeongyeon has been with other people longer than you. “It's the comfortable feelings I get when I’m with you. With other people I always get the urge to take care and protect them, but with you I feel protected and cared for instead” Jeongyeon always tells you. You never really know how to respond to that, so you just smiled at her, you’re not the talkative kind afterall. Jeongyeon knows you though. She knows you’re happy to make her happy and that is more than enough. 

_______________________________________

Jeongyeon’s health usually deteriorates during the colder months. She used to self-isolate herself, as she called it “hibernation” but in reality you know well that she’s purposely trying to avoid everyone. The isolation got worse as her health kept declining; to the point that one time you drove yourself to a near panic attack episode while calling an ambulance because you found an unresponsive, feverish Jeongyeon passed out on the floor. 

That led to another round of both of you crying together. 

_______________________________________

This year is no different, even though Jeongyeon’s health has improved a lot, it still couldn’t adapt to the cold weather. Although, she has been slowly learning to lean on you more and more.

“Y/n…” Jeongyeon softly called out for you, the panic shown visibly in her shaky voice. She tried to feel for your presence but nothing was there, your side of the bed was scaringly empty. The anxiety inside her grew more and more, along with the immense loneliness and sadness, all washed over her. She needs you, why aren’t you here? You’ve been telling her to open up more, now she does but you’re just gone?

“I’m here I’m still here” a familiar soft voice suddenly spoke up, reassuring her “I didn’t go anywhere”. Your voice echoed in the dark, that seemed to sooth Jeongyeon a lot. Her face softened, her breathing calmed as she tried to crack her eyes open to look at you. Even though it’s dark and the fever is causing Jeongyeon’s eyes to blur, your silhouette is still very much visible to her. You smiled at her, gently swiping the forming tears in the corner of her eyes, confirming that you’re here with her. 

____________________________________

Jeongyeon’s fever has broken out in the middle of the night, which caused you to jolt up from the bed and scrawl to find her some medicine. When you came back, the first thing you saw was a helpless Jeongyeon trying to call for you. ‘Like a puppy trying to find its mom’ you think, then let out a sigh. 

You looked back at Jeongyeon, you can see that her half-opened brown eyes still stopped on your body. “Go back to sleep Jeongyeon” you say, which almost sounds like an order. She frowned, and seemed to be very dissatisfied with your stern tone. Jeongyeon huffed then turned away, pulling the blanket over her head, refusing to face you any longer. That made you chuckle. 

Eventually you did wake her up again to make her drink the medicine you have prepared. 

____________________________________

As you were stirring the congee slowly heating up in the pot, a pair of arms began to wrap around your waist. Jeongyeon has woken up and made her way into the kitchen to find you. You’re always in the kitchen afterall, so even when her mind is hazy, she knows to look for you in this familiar space. “Morning honey” you turn to face her red feverish face “Are you feeling any better?”, you asked as you tucked her hair behind her ears. Jeongyeon shakes her head, burying her face in the crook of your neck, you can feel her arms tightened around your body. She mumbled “...Just tired.”. 

Jeongyeon sounded like she was about to cry, her voice came out quite nasally, she cried a lot when she’s sick. She has you now though, so she won’t have to cry alone anymore. You placed your hand on the back of her neck then ran your fingers into her hair, gently massaging her pounding head. “It’s okay, I’m here with you...Let's go sit down, it’s not good for you to stand for so long” you gently coaxed her, she nodded as both of you made your way to the nearby couch. You sat her down, placing a few pillows behind to support her back. Jeongyeon sank into the pillow as you draped a thin blanket over her. “Are you not gonna sit with me..?” she asked, “I will I will, wait for me a bit” you answered. You waited for Jeongyeon’s approval before getting up to get back to your pot of congee. It's what your mother usually made when you’re sick, so naturally, you continued that tradition and made some for Jeongyeon. 

The steaming bowl of congee was placed onto the coffee table, you kneeled down next to the couch, rubbing Jeongyeon’s cheek to wake her up. “Yoo Unnie, time to wake up to eat”, Jeongyeon definitely heard you but it took a while for her to be able to get out of the sleepy state. She’s still groggy though but managed to sit up anyway. 

“Ah, smells good” Jeongyeon commented after seeing the bowl of congee. “I used the chicken stock you made last week, so that's probably why” you answered honestly, scooping a spoon full then raising it up to her lips “Time for you to finally eat”. “I can feed myself you know?” Jeongyeon playfully said with her hoarse voice but she took it anyway. The congee was a bit hot, making Jeongyeon whine and you quickly became really apologetic. It tasted good though, Jeongyeon laughed the near burn experience off and slowly finished the entire bowl. 

“That made me feel so much more comfortable” Jeongyeon sat back, leaning onto the soft cushion. Fulfilling meals always make Jeongyeon happy and contend, especially when she’s feeling terrible mentally or physically, or both. You smiled. Food is Jeongyeon’s therapy and cooking is her love language. No matter how tired she is or how busy she gets, Jeongyeon always finds the time to prepare a meal for you. Even when her schedule is tight, she still manages to whip up something for you to enjoy. “I know how good food makes you feel” you said while sitting down next to her. Jeongyeon immediately started to lean onto your body, taking your hand in her lap and gently rubbing her fingers through your knuckles, her soft skin gliding onto yours and you can feel her feverish warmth. “Ya…” she responded “I love food but I love the meaning behind it more. Maybe that's why I love home-cooked meals, because you can really tell how much your chef loves you”. That made you chuckle a lot. You didn’t say anything after that, both of you just let the atmosphere sinked into a comforting silence. Jeongyeon holding your hand while you play with her hair until another wave of tiredness washed over her, making Jeongyeon drift back to sleep. You gently lowered her back onto the couch, careful as not to wake her. You brushed her bangs onto the side while placing a cooling rack on her forehead and took a while to watch her sleep. ‘Jeongyeon is like a princess’ you think, she has always been beautiful in your eyes and that thought had never once changed. 

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

hii sex witch

im 19 afab and ive never had sex before, i masturbate sometimes but ive never had an orgasm and dont know how to "get it"?.. im generally scared of sex and identified as asexual for a long time but i dont think thats really my deal, im just scared of it. im scared of it being awkward, of my partner not finding me atractive or worse. i dont like how i look naked, and dont imagine anyone ever could. i think my vagina and my boobs look ugly and alien, i preach body positivity and being natural i think all bodies are good no matter how they look but when im faced with the reality of my own body im repulsed by these parts of it. i think something may be broken inside me because i just cant Be Normal about sex, the thought of me having it always makes me stressed and uncomfortable. i want a relationship and i love meeting new people and flirting etc. but when the person i talk to makes any sexual joke or innuendo i get super tense and scared and realise that if things get further they would probably want me to do it... and maybe i could and maybe i even want to but the thought makes me sick with the pressure. this isnt even a question, so i dont know how you could even respond but i dont have anyone i could openly talk about this in my life without feeling super weird or them just brushing it off as "you'll grow up to it" or something, and i just had to say it to someone or else i will eventually explode. hope this all makes sense ❤️‍🩹

hey anon,

come in, get cozy, grab a glass of lemonade, etc. we're gonna be here a minute.

so listen: I swear to GOD this isn't me trying to pull the "you'll grow into it" thing. I am going somewhere different with this I swear. bear with me.

first and foremost, I think the main problem you're experiencing right now is that being 19. I don't mean that in a condescending or belittling way, or to imply that you just don't want to have sex because you're 19. I'm saying that being 19 (and 18, and 20, and 21, and so on) is mostly for being worried about everything and having no idea what's going on. you have to get all that insane anxiety out of your system as early as possible in your adult years so that you can get down to business actually developing a perspective and figuring out what you want to do. I'm not even, like, a LOT older than you but trust me, by the time you're 26 you're going to feel SOOOOO different about things that you don't even realize you have an opinion about right now. when I was 19 I was made pretty much exclusively of anxiety and the cheapest bagels at the grocery store. (eating badly was not helping my anxiety.)

what I'm getting at here is that you're at like a very exciting and terrible formative age when it's the most normal thing in the world to feel like there's something uniquely awful and hideous and unlovable about yourself. when I was 19 the two most important things in the world to me were losing my virginity (lmao) and making sure I never experienced actual emotional intimacy ever because I was sure that if anyone got close enough to really know me they would realize that I was the worst person who ever lived and fundamentally undeserving of human connection. TERRIBLE place to be in; I had a lot of deeply bad and uncomfortable sex because of it.

there's a really easy solution to being terrified of sex, which I wish someone had told me when I was very scared of sex, and it's if having sex sounds like a horrific ordeal you can actually just Not Have Sex. just don't do it. it's actually REALLY easy to not have sex; millions of people do it every single day.

if you like meeting people and flirting, that's awesome! you should do that, having connections and relationships with other people is important. if you don't like sexual jokes and innuendos you can just tell people they make you uncomfortable and ask them not to do that; how they respond is actually a GREAT litmus test for whether or not those are people you should keep hanging out with. if someone isn't able to not make sexual comments about you after you've asked them not to, kick 'em to the curb!

there are tons of people in all kinds of romantic relationships who aren't having sex. that's a perfectly fine and reasonable boundary to set. it can make things a little more complicated, sure, but dating and romance and love are all complicated and messy anyway. again, great way to VERY EFFICIENTLY weed out who is and isn't a suitable potential partner. (it's also fine to not want a partner, either; there's nothing wrong with being a sociable extrovert who doesn't want to have sex.)

there's nothing broken about you for being nervous about the idea of having sex. whether you identify as asexual or not, it's perfectly fine to feel that way. it's completely fine if you change your mind tomorrow or if you feel this way for the rest of your life. and you might! maybe sex will never sound awesome for you, and that's fine! again, tons of people living very good and happy lives every day without having sex! sex isn't a measure of maturity, but knowing yourself well enough to honor your own boundaries and desires is.

I hope a kinder attitude towards your own body can come with time, and I think it will. be gentle with yourself, alright? being 19 is very silly but unfortunately very necessary, and I think you'll really like what comes after if you let yourself relax a little. whatever you feel like right now, you're actually a very normal person, by which I of course mean you have a rich and brilliant mind and will do many quietly wonderful things in your life and will be deserving of every bit of love and joy that comes your way.

also, hey - have you ever seen a therapist about anxiety? I also should have done that when I was 19.