#want us to step in so why are you thinking you can?

[jane-asmo]

Why I think Caitlyn didn’t ask Vi for forgiveness

(Thank 'anons' for your messages. I’ll try to respond to you through this text: )

The importance of Caitlyn’s “I know”

A key moment in Caitlyn’s character narrative is her “I know”—both its content and delivery.

The content: When Caitlyn says, “I know,” it doesn’t just mean “You’re right.” It means, “I’ve taken the time to think about this.” And thinking is what Caitlyn does best. Her “I know” conveys that she has already had this conversation with herself, over and over in her head. She’s thought about it constantly, she’s already told herself these things, and she’s already blamed herself for them.

The delivery: She screams it with violence, and we can see this represented by the boat falling apart. It’s not just that she has thought about it; it’s tormenting her. Her “I know” is incredibly powerful because it’s filled with suffering.

To me, this is as valid as an apology because asking for forgiveness is outward-facing—focused on the other person. "Asking for forgiveness" says, “Whether I’ve forgiven myself or not, whether I feel guilty or not, it’s on you to decide to forgive me.”

But here, Caitlyn’s “I know” is inward-facing. It means, “I’m not asking you to forgive me because I can’t even forgive myself.”

She knows everything you’re saying, and it torments her.

This is followed by:

"I didn’t even have time to think before they hauled her off."

This line is so telling. Everything about Caitlyn is tied to thinking and reflection.

Being a sniper means aiming and shooting. Aiming is the equivalent of thinking, and shooting is the equivalent of speaking. Everything Caitlyn does is deliberate and thought through.

This is why some people dislike her: as I’ve said before, unlike other characters, Caitlyn’s actions can’t be forgiven easily because she doesn’t do anything by accident.

Then we get to:

"We can’t erase our mistakes. None of us."

Caitlyn speak in “we.”

In the prison scene with Jinx:

"No amount of good deeds can undo our crimes."

This scene mirrors the rage she felt when she threw the boat. In this moment, she’s speaking to Jinx, but also to herself.

Caitlyn and Jinx are paralleled so many times throughout the show. Caitlyn quickly realized that, in some ways, she had become like Jinx. And so, in order to forgive Jinx, she would first have to forgive herself.

At this point in the episode, the person Caitlyn hates the most is herself.

But she no longer has the "energy" to hate, neither Jinx nor herself.

Energy comes from fuel. What she perceives as a lack of strength to keep fighting is simply the fact that the fuel that powered her hatred has disappeared. And when you stop feeding a fire, it eventually dies out. She has no energy left; she has no fuel to sustain her hatred.

It's a particular way of saying, I don’t hate you anymore, and I don’t want to hate myself anymore either, because in the end, that hatred corrupts us/everything .

In her own unique way, Jinx also says, I didn’t know your mother was there, even if it wouldn’t have changed anything. And this too is a strange way of taking a step toward the other.

We have two brilliant and intelligent women who express their emotions in unconventional ways. ----------

There’s also a whole analysis that could be done about her concept of justice and rules, "but I don’t have the energy" to dive into that here. Still, it would only lead back to the fact that Caitlyn doesn’t see herself as the right person to free Jinx (and therefore to forgive her) because she believes she herself is beyond forgiveness.

[cherrygirlfriend]

touchy subject III pairing: reader x exfiancé!rafe synopsis: seeing your ex-fiancé after four years. warnings: angst and comfort. fluff. mentions of miscarriage/stillbirth and DUI. wc: 2.7k part 3 and the last part of touchy subject! click here for part 1, click here for part 2 i really liked writing for them and honestly i'm considering occasionally writing blurbs for them and what their relationship would shape into, lmk if you'd be interested!!

seeing you in front of that store felt like it might've killed rafe. the first face he fell in love with, the woman who'd left him with nothing but scars and an engagement ring. somehow, he still managed to stay alive.

but hearing you say his name in the soft voice he hadn't heard in over four years, the same one that you used to tell him you loved him every single night before your body went slack in his arms, that might have been the final blow.

"what are you doing here?" you managed to mutter, your hand instinctively going to your locket, squeezing it in your hand, and the gesture didn't go unnoticed by rafe.

"what's this?" rafe asked as the two of you laid in bed, his finger tracing the patterns on the heart-shaped locket resting on your chest, the one you'd worn around your neck for as long as he'd known you.

"this?" you asked, opening the locket, displaying two pictures; one of them was of you when you were a little girl, standing between your parents with a wide, toothy grin on your face, and the other was a picture of you and rafe, taken at midsummers. "i got this from my mom. it's a family heirloom of sorts. when she's born," you looked down at your stomach, "we've gotta get a picture taken of us three so i can put it here."

he let out a small chuckle, "i'm honored that you want me in your heart."

"i think you're always going to be in my heart," you rolled your eyes, "whether i want it or not."

"i'm here to see you. i thought that'd be obvious." rafe said without an ounce of emotion in his voice, the sound causing a shiver to run down your spine. grieving your daughter on what would've been her fifth birthday wasn't a moment you exactly wanted your ex to witness, but this was still rafe. the man you loved for so long, the only man you ever loved, the one you were going to marry, and this was still the house that was supposed to be your home.

so you stepped aside, pulling your cardigan closed as a way to close yourself off from the man as you walked further into the house, not daring yourself to look back at him, fearing the urge that still remained in your chest to just pull him close to you and be in his arms.

you heard the door close, pressing your eyes shut as you stood in front of the fireplace, your arms crossed in front of your chest as if defending yourself, the man's footsteps echoing in the room, "it's cold in here."

"the radiator's broken."

"can you just, at least look at me, or something?"

"do i have to?" you chuckled humorlessly, and when you felt his hand on your shoulder, it felt like the room got ten degrees colder, the man slowly turning you around to face him, and when you refused to look up at him, focusing on the baby blue sweater he was wearing, he brought his hand to your chin, gently lifting it up, just like he did every time he was about to kiss you.

"we need to talk."

if someone was to ask you what would be the most uncomfortable situation you had ever been in, this would be among the top 3, right after you got the 'birds and the bees' talk and the time you said your goodbyes to the same man now sitting beside you, the space between you two big enough to fit another person.

"why did you come back?" rafe asks, without even sparing you a glance. you decide to do the same, your gaze staying on the fire crackling in front of you.

"i don't know. a part of me thinks it's because i missed home."

"and the other part?"

missed us. missed her. "missed my mom, i guess."

your mother had driven you home from the hospital, insisting that she'd stay with you for the next few days; you still hadn't seen rafe. you couldn't face him, couldn't face the guilt you carried around for being the reason your daughter would be coming home in an urn.

she'd gone to the store for groceries, leaving you to sit on the couch you and rafe had picked out, staring at the engagement picture that hung above the fireplace.

you didn't know how it started, how every single vase ended up as nothing but shards of glass on the floor, how the coffee table had ended up as planks of wood, how your fists were bruised from beating them against the walls, your knees bloody from when you'd collapsed on the ground amongst all the glass.

"do you know what day it is?" rafe asked with a weak voice, and you could hear him try to swallow down the emotion crawling up his throat.

his question made you want to let out a small, humorless laugh. you don't know how you could ever forget. "of course." the day i killed her.

rafe stood up, running his hand over his chin before trailing over the short strands of hair on his head, "why did you do it?" he looked to you. "why did you leave?"

"i had no reason to stay." you say emotionlessly, your fingers intertwined as you kept your eyes on them as if you were praying.

"you had me. you would've had me if you just let me be there."

"rafe, i killed our daughter."

"what-"

"i'm the reason our daughter isn't here. i'm the reason she doesn't exist. i'm the reason that today isn't only her fifth birthday, but also the fifth anniversary of her death."

rafe kneeled down in front of you, his hands cupping your cheeks, not caring if it made you uncomfortable, or that this was the first time he'd properly touched you in over four years, the only thing that mattered to him was that you listened.

"you did not kill our daughter."

"i did."

"no." he scoffed, "you aren't the reason she's dead. the reason is the drunken asshole who drove at you. you loved her with your entire being, with everything you had, even before she was born. you would've been the most amazing mother in the world. don't you dare blame yourself for something you had zero control over."

"i shouldn't have driven in that weather. i knew it was gonna be raining, that the roads would be slippery-"

"no." rafe said sternly, "look at me."

your eyes moved to look into rafe's steel-blue ones, shimmering with unshed tears, his jaw clenched, and only then did you realize that he was cupping your face in his hands, his touch somehow managing to make you feel warm even in the cold apartment.

"i won't have you blame yourself for something you had no fuckin' control over. evelyn was so wanted, by both of us. she would've been so loved. we would've done anything to protect her, and to keep her safe. if any fucker even thought about hurting her, i would've made sure they'd regret ever being born. but you are not to blame for her not being here."

rafe's hands moved from your cheeks to your hands, the man instead taking your clenched fists into his, letting out a small sniffle, and when he pressed his eyes closed and let out a sigh, a tear rolled down his cheek.

"yeah, you could've not driven in the rain. but i should've been the one to drive you to your mom's, you were eight months along, an insane man would make you drive yourself, or i should've made sure you got home before it was dark, or i should've picked you up myself. there are so many things we could've done differently, but that doesn't mean that either of us is to blame for it."

"i spent so long blaming myself for what happened, but not even for a moment did i blame you. you did everything to keep her safe, and i know it, and i'm sure that she knows it too. you loved her more than anything, and i won't let some drunk driving idiot make you feel like you did anything wrong."

slowly, you opened your fists, half-moon prints on the palms on your hands caused by your nails, and without even realizing, tears had been rolling down your eyes the entire time that rafe had been speaking, the man standing up and pressing a kiss on your forehead that felt like it burnt and would leave a mark that'd be there forever, before he settled down next to you.

a strand of hair was stuck on your cheek, almost glued on there by the tears you shed, the blonde man tugging it behind your ear, his eyes still on you, his hands still cupping yours.

"i don't blame you for what happened, nor do i blame you for pushing me away. but i wish you would've let me in, to be there for you, instead of leaving. so we could've grieved her together."

"i think we should break up, rafe."

"what?" rafe turned to look at you; this wasn't what he had been expecting to hear after two months of silence, "if this is about the baby-"

"i can't do it anymore." you closed your eyes, letting a tear run down your cheek, "i need to leave. start over."

you turned your head to look at him, his words feeling like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders, and even though you tried to find it, there was nothing in his eyes that said that he was lying.

"you don't blame me for any of it?"

your voice was weak and feeble, as if a part of you was expecting him to tell you that he did, but when he pulled you into his embrace, he told you the truth in the best way he knew how to: without saying a single word.

you didn't know how long you had been in rafe's arms; it felt like hours, while also feeling like the moment had lasted mere seconds, like you two lived in your own bubble. it felt like the last four years hadn't happened, like you had never left.

but when he pulled away from the embrace and looked down at his watch, letting out a sigh, you knew what was coming. the bubble burst.

"i should probably get going." rafe let out an exasperated sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose before starting to get up off the couch, stretching his long limbs.

"yeah, yeah." you said softly, clearing your throat, trying to act like nothing had happened, like you hadn't gone through every memory you shared while he was just holding you to comfort you, "your girlfriend's probably waiting for you."

rafe stopped in his tracks, turning to look down at you, "girlfriend?"

"shit," you chuckle softly, fidgeting with your hands and chewing on your lower lip, "i guess she's your fiancée, now."

he sat down on the couch next to you while you simply avoided his gaze, not wanting him to read everything you were feeling like he so often seemed to do, but your attempt was unsuccessful, the man bringing his hand to your chin and gently turning your head so you were forced to look at him, his brows slightly furrowed while he looked at you pointedly.

"what girlfriend, or fiancée?"

you didn't know if rafe was acting stupid, or if he was genuinely confused, but you could still remember the woman with him at the jewelry store, the woman who had managed to make him smile, whose back rafe placed his hand on.

"you know," you clear your throat, taking his hand off your chin and turning your head away from him, not wanting him to see the tears brimming in your eyes as you thought about him waiting at the aisle for another woman, "the woman at the jewelry store."

rafe let out a soft laugh, and when you turned your head, facing him, he was nearly keeling over in laughter, his head in his hands.

"what?"

"that-" rafe said inbetween laughs, "that wasn't my girlfriend."

"what?" you mumbled softly, your brows furrowing, "what do you mean, rafe?"

"sorry-" he continued laughing for a while only to be stopped by a soft smack you delivered to his shoulder, before the man took a deep breath, looking at you with a small smile gracing his lips, a sight that still got your heart to flutter, "that wasn't my girlfriend, or my fiancée."

"then... who was she?"

"that was," rafe let out another chuckle as if you had said something foolish, taking one of your hands in his and intertwining your fingers, "wheezie's girlfriend."

you tried processing the words that had left his lips, but no matter what, they didn't seem to make since. "why were you in a jewelry store together? wheezie's only like-"

"wheezie's nineteen." rafe shook his head, "her girlfriend, lucy, asked me to help her pick out a ring. sarah was supposed to go with her, but she had some preschool stuff to deal with relating to jack, so i got stuck with that duty…"

"isn't nineteen a bit... young?"

"it is. but you remember how young we were when we got engaged? or sarah?" a fond smile took over rafe's lips as he turned to look at the fire that was slowly burning out, letting the next words out in a hushed tone. "guess it runs in the family."

"guess so." you say, biting down on your lip, turning to look at the fire with him, your cheeks warm as you felt like an idiot for your assumption.

"i still haven't moved on." rafe said, letting out a breath, "i don't know if i can. i don't think i even want to." you turned to look back at one another at the same time, both of you seeing the same melancholy in the other one's eyes, "there's no one i would ever want to be with other than you."

you took a deep breath, his words ringing through your head as you looked at him, a damp trail running down his cheek was still visible from the tears he had shed, and you took a deep breath, making a decision that you knew would impact the rest of your life.

"me neither, rafe."

you brought your hand to his cheek and felt the tear he had shed under your touch, pulling his face to meet yours until your lips clashed, feeling the exact same that it did four years ago, making you wonder how you ever let it go.

SIX MONTHS LATER...

you laid on a blanket in the middle of a field of sunflowers, your arms crossed behind your head and your eyes pressed closed, letting the sun beam down your face, warming you up as your bare feet were being tickled by blades of grass.

your daydreaming was interrupted by the sound of footsteps, and you opened one of your eyes to see rafe stumble through the long flowers into the small clearing you'd found, a small chuckle leaving your lips.

"don't laugh at me." he scolded, shaking his head as he landed on the blanket next to you, letting out a soft grunt.

"why not?" you asked, sticking your tongue out at him, your boyfriend gasping in feigned offence, about to quip back at you, only to be stopped by the small, chaste peck you pressed on his lips, even the small display of affection managing to leave him speechless.

as he settled down next to you, you smiled while looking up at the sky, white clouds covering a part of the beautiful icy blue nothingness that was so much like rafe's eyes, your thoughts on her. you took rafe's hand in yours, keeping your eyes trained up while you let yourselves just exist together.

"you're always going to be in my heart, evelyn louise cameron." you said softly as you traced the patterns on your locket, rafe turning his head to look at you, a somber expression on his face as he pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"yeah, she will. and neither of us will ever forget her."

[amirasainz]

I have a request for Lando Norris x Sister!reader where she gets cheated on. Please🫶🏻 I love your writing

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 🧡

Big Brother to the Rescue

The paddock was buzzing with activity, fans cheering and cameras clicking as drivers moved between interviews and meetings. It was a typical race weekend—hectic, thrilling, and intense. But for Yn, none of it seemed to matter.

She walked beside Lando, her older brother, keeping her head down. Normally, she loved being at the Grand Prix. She’d tease Lando about his starts, laugh at his banter with the other drivers, and soak in the high-energy atmosphere. But today, her heart felt heavy.

Lando, always in tune with her moods, glanced down at her and frowned. “You’re too quiet,” he said as they reached the McLaren hospitality area. “This isn’t like you. What’s wrong?”

Yn sighed. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

That was all it took for Lando’s protective instincts to kick in. “Oh, you’re definitely talking about it. Did something happen? Who do I need to fight?”

Yn couldn’t help but chuckle lightly at his immediate leap to violence. “It’s nothing. Just...my boyfriend cheated on me.”

Lando froze mid-step. He turned to her, his expression shifting from shock to anger. “He what?”

“Cheated,” Yn repeated, her voice cracking slightly. “With some girl he met at a party. I found out yesterday.”

Lando clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. “That absolute—” He cut himself off, taking a deep breath. “Okay. First of all, you don’t deserve that. Second, I’m going to make sure you’re okay. And third, if I ever see him, he’s toast.”

Yn smiled faintly at his overprotective tone. “Thanks, Lan. But I don’t think anything can cheer me up right now.”

Lando wasn’t having it. “Challenge accepted.”

---

Throughout the morning, Lando hovered around her like a mother hen. He brought her tea, her favorite snacks, and even a McLaren hoodie to keep her warm. The other drivers began to notice.

“Why is Yn so quiet today?” Carlos asked, walking over to where she sat with her tea. “You’re usually giving Lando a hard time.”

“She’s going through something,” Lando replied, his tone making it clear the topic was off-limits. He wrapped an arm around Yn’s shoulders and pulled her closer. “But don’t worry. I’ve got this.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow but didn’t push further. He ruffled Yn’s hair affectionately before heading off.

A little while later, Charles and Pierre stopped by. “Yn, you’re not smiling,” Charles said, crouching down to her eye level. “That’s illegal. Lando, what have you done?”

“For once, it’s not my fault,” Lando said, rolling his eyes. “She’s just—she’s sad. Leave her alone.”

Pierre, never one to resist a joke, smirked. “Do you need us to scare someone off? We’re good at that.”

“I can scare people off just fine,” Lando said firmly. “Thanks.”

Yn managed a small laugh, which made Charles and Pierre exchange victorious looks.

---

Later, when Ollie came by, he took one look at Yn and immediately tried to lighten the mood. “I’ve got an idea,” he announced, sitting down beside her. “What if I became your new boyfriend? I’d treat you like a queen.”

Yn laughed for the first time all day, the sound catching Lando’s attention from across the room. He walked over, arms crossed.

“Really, Ollie?” Lando said, glaring at his friend. “That’s the best you’ve got?”

“What?” Ollie said, holding up his hands in mock innocence. “I’m just saying, I’d be an upgrade.”

Yn shook her head, still giggling. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous, but effective,” Ollie said, winking at her.

Lando wasn’t amused. “Stick to racing, mate.”

Ollie shrugged and walked off, leaving Yn smiling. “He’s an idiot,” she said, leaning her head on Lando’s shoulder.

“True,” Lando agreed. “But if it made you laugh, I’ll allow it.”

---

As the day wore on, Lando continued to dote on Yn. He handed her tissues when she teared up, reminded her to drink water, and even skipped a strategy meeting to sit with her in the quiet corner of the hospitality area.

“You know,” Yn said softly, “you’re a really good brother.”

“Obviously,” Lando replied with a smirk. “But thanks. And for real, Yn, don’t let that guy make you feel like you’re not enough. He’s the idiot, not you.”

Yn sniffled and smiled up at him. “You’re the best.”

“Duh,” Lando said, pulling her into a hug. “Now, what do you say we watch the race together? I’ll dedicate my first overtake to you.”

Yn laughed, feeling lighter than she had all day. “Deal.”

By the time the sun set over the paddock, Yn was back to herself, and it was all thanks to Lando—her overprotective, slightly annoying, but always reliable big brother.

[2amriize]

.ᐟ friend!RIIZE flirting with you ༉‧₊˚.

req: I js discovered your blog and im obssesedddd😭 could you do riize as friends flirting with you on party and being very bold? thank youuu

pairing: friend!riize x reader —masterlist

⭑.ᐟ shotaro

Your group of friends had decided to throw a party to celebrate the end of your first year at university. The party was pretty crowded, and although you didn’t usually enjoy these events, you were having a good time. At one point, Shotaro, one of your closest friends, came over to talk to you, and the two of you spent a long time chatting while sipping your drinks. You weren’t sure if it was because the music was so loud or because Shotaro had had a bit too much to drink, but he kept moving closer to you, leaning in to your ear every time he wanted to say something. You didn’t expect him to place his hand on your hip and whisper:

"You look too good tonight, and you smell amazing... Should we find somewhere more private?"

.ᐟ eunseok

Since you arrived at the party, you’d been hanging out with your friend, dancing and having some drinks. The moment you noticed Eunseok watching you, you couldn’t stop wondering why he was staring. When your friend stepped away, Eunseok wasted no time approaching you to start a conversation, offering you a drink while his eyes swept up and down your figure. After a few seconds of silence, he brought his hand near his lips and said:

"Wow... I've been waiting all night to come up to you, and I don’t know if I can wait any longer to get even closer."

⭑.ᐟ sungchan

One of your friends suggested playing truth or dare during a small party your group had planned. After some time drinking, you all decided to make things more exciting with the game. The questions and dares grew increasingly bold, which made the situation even more interesting. You didn’t expect that one of the dares would result in you spending five minutes alone in a closet with Sungchan. It felt strange being so close to him, and you couldn’t help but notice how he was looking down at you.

"People will probably think we’re doing something in here..."

"I mean... I wouldn’t mind giving them something to talk about if it’s with you."

⭑.ᐟ wonbin

Although you’d known Wonbin for years and were part of the same friend group, the two of you had never really talked alone, so you didn’t know much about him. One night, your group decided to go to a nightclub together. You spent a long time dancing and drinking with your friends, but gradually, they began pairing off with others or heading off with their significant others. At one point, you stepped outside for some fresh air and ran into Wonbin. You ended up talking for a while about how it seemed like everyone had someone except for the two of you. After a moment of silence, he surprised you by saying:

"If we were together, everyone would be jealous of us... Don’t you think? I think we’d make a great couple."

⭑.ᐟ seunghan

You weren’t a big fan of parties, but Seunghan had spent weeks convincing you to attend one that a classmate was hosting, so you finally agreed. You didn’t plan to stay long, but at least you could keep Seunghan company for a while. When you arrived, you went over to him, and he offered you a drink. The two of you ended up talking for a long time. You were good friends and got along really well, but something about the way he was looking at you that night felt different. Every chance he got, he’d touch your cheek or your shoulder. When Seunghan stepped away to grab some snacks, a guy approached you to ask for your number. As soon as Seunghan returned and saw what was happening, he placed his hand on your arm and said:

"Hey, back off. I saw her first, she’s mine."

⭑.ᐟ sohee

It always surprised you how much Sohee’s personality changed after a few drinks. You were at a party he’d organized at his house, and although he was usually calm and adorable, just one drink made him outgoing and energetic, chatting with everyone. But for some reason, Sohee had stuck by your side all night. At one point, you stepped out into his garden to get some fresh air, and the two of you sat on the grass. After a few seconds, you noticed Sohee was staring at you.

"Mgh? Is something wrong Sohee?"

"I don’t know if it’s the alcohol or you, but my heart’s been pounding all night when I’m around you. I can’t stop looking at you, y/n."

⭑.ᐟ anton

Your friends had decided to celebrate the end of exams with a night out at a nightclub. You were with a big group, and you’d spent hours dancing and drinking with your friends. At one point, when you went to the bar for a drink, you ran into Anton, one of your friends. You chatted for a few moments while waiting for your drinks. Once they arrived, you turned to leave, but you felt Anton grab your hand. Confused, you turned back to face him. Pulling you closer and placing his hand on your arm, he leaned in and whispered:

"I’ve been watching you all night, y/n, and I need to know if I have a chance with you or if I should just pretend I’m not obsessed with you."

masterlist // taglist: @regularsuh @gacktsa @totheseok @kkumistars @taroddori @enhacolor @ladylilith @electric-hearts @astrobymarwa @layluv123 @sunflowers1610 @nctrawberries @synkjellies @ramyeonzprincess

[fireinmoonshot]

your fiyero | fiyero tigelaar x reader

Pairing: Fiyero Tigelaar x Reader Summary: Ever since Fiyero Tigelaar started at Shiz University, he found himself fascinated by you – the one student who didn't care about him. When he notices you starting to struggle with something, he'll do anything to make sure you're okay. Warnings: Mentions of fainting, falling over, academic stress/burn out Word Count: 2.2k A/N: I've seen Wicked (the show) three times now with the amazing Australian cast that's currently touring and I fell totally head over heels with Fiyero, and then yesterday I saw the movie and fell even more in love with Fiyero and so I had to write for him. I do intend to write more for him, especially if other people want to read more! He's so fun to write for and definitely a challenge compared to some other characters I've written for in the past. I hope you all enjoy! 💗

It’s not difficult to sense the presence of Fiyero Tigelaar behind you as you leave Doctor Dillamond’s classroom, shoving your books into the bag over your shoulder. With the way the students heading into the classroom are staring at someone behind you, it’s quite obvious who they’re staring at. Everyone at Shiz University wants Fiyero Tigelaar. 

Everyone, that is, except you.

“Classes are over, you know?” Fiyero’s voice comes from behind you as you round the corner, heading down the staircase leading to the courtyard. “You don’t have to rush off.”

Irritatingly, the fact that you can’t particularly care less about wanting Fiyero Tigelaar makes himwant you. He usually isn’t the type. If someone doesn’t like him – something he’s actually yet to experience – he would just let it slide. Why waste his energy? But ever since he’d started at Shiz and met you, he’d found himself unable to leave you alone. 

“I know,” you glance back at him over your shoulder. “But some of us actually want to study and spend their time here learning, Tigelaar.”

Fiyero hurries his steps a little so he’s walking alongside you. “Did you miss the part where I said it was my job to corrupt my fellow students when I started here? It’s never too late, darling.” He flashes a grin your way.

You can’t help but roll your eyes at him, right at the same time you almost miss a step and stumble a little. Fiyero is quick, catching your elbow to help steady you. You don’t look at him as you steady yourself, meaning you miss the look of worry in his eyes.

“Are you all right?”

You clear your throat and shake off his grip. “Consider me corrupted by your presence.” 

With that, you make a beeline away from him and you’re glad to notice that he doesn’t attempt to follow you. You highly doubt that he’s going to follow you all the way to the library. Fiyero and the library have never exactly gone hand in hand. 

~~

The next time Fiyero bothers you, you’re sat on one of the benches by the gardens. There’s a book in your hands and he can see you staring intently at it as he saunters over to you. It’s almost like he’s approaching a wild bird or something, he thinks. If he moves too quickly, he’ll frighten you and scare you away. It’s the last thing Fiyero wants to do.

He’s a few steps away from you when you look up from your book and meet his eyes. His face breaks into a smile as he moves the last few steps and takes the spot beside you on the bench. You turn to look at him, your eyebrows raised. 

“Now, don’t say I’m interrupting your study,” he begins. “That book is most definitely not in the curriculum. And yes, I did actually take the time to look the curriculum up after I saw you reading here the other day, if you can believe it.”

For a few moments, you only stare at him. Fiyero, for the first time probably ever, finds himself actually a little uncomfortable at your unwavering gaze. It surprises him. He’s never the type of person to feel uncomfortable. He’s confident in almost every situation.

You let out a sigh. “It may not be in the curriculum, but you’ve interrupted me nevertheless, Tigelaar.”

“Apologies,” he says, with a small smirk. “Am I corrupting you even more with my presence?”

“Something like that.” You close your book and sit it on the small space of bench beside you. You had actually just been reading the same page over and over for the last twenty minutes and trying to convince yourself to stop overthinking things. 

You had so much studying to do, so much to learn and so many assignments to do and so little time to do it all. It was probably a little counterproductive to be sitting outside, reading a book and doing none of those things, but if you didn’t try and have a break from them all, you were pretty sure you were going to burn yourself out, which was the last thing you needed. It would have helped if you’d actually been able to relax and enjoy your book, though.

“Is it any good? Your book. Not that I’d read it, of course,” Fiyero grins.

You try your best to conceal your amusement. “I’d offer to lend it to you but, as you said, you wouldn’t actually read it so… I’ll keep it safe with me. I doubt the Winkie Prince knows how to properly take care of books if he can’t read them.”

Fiyero gasps jokingly. “I’ll have you know I can read, I just choose not to. I prefer to fill my brain with much more useless things. That way, I don’t have to think. It’s a peaceful way to live, my darling.” 

You shake your head, this time unable to keep a smile off of your face. Fiyero likes the sight of it. It strangely makes his heart beat a little faster. He can’t actually remember the last time he saw you smiling… not that he’s been keeping track. 

“How about you join me?” He offers. “No more studying for the rest of the day and no more thinking? I’m positive I could find something we could do to fill the time.” 

The reminder of studying, however, brings you back to reality after you small moment of joking with Fiyero. You reach down and grab your book before standing up and turning to face Fiyero, who is looking at you with slight concern in his eyes at your sudden movement.

“I can’t,” you say simply. “I’ve been reading all morning and there is a lot I have to do. I’ll see you around, Tigelaar.”

He watches you with furrowed eyebrows as you walk away from him, clutching your book to your chest and heading in the direction of the library. Fiyero shakes his head and lets out a small laugh. He really thought today would be the day he’d win you over.

~~

A week goes by without Fiyero even getting to utter a word to you. He sees you, though, fairly often around the school. In the courtyard, in the library (where he definitely didn’t go specifically looking for you), in history class and in the dining hall. But every time he’s thought to approach you, you’ve disappeared before he could even make his move. It’s on the seventh day when he notices that something is different about you.

You’re coming out of the library, carrying several books and what looks like a stack of papers in your hands when you trip. Fiyero isn’t quick enough to cross the courtyard and get to you in time to stop your fall. He does, however, take off at a run to be by your side as you start collecting all of the scattered pieces of paper and books that had fallen out of your grasp.

“It’s all right, Tigelaar. You don’t have to help me,” you mutter, trying to shove books into your already overfilled bag. “It’s a Friday night. I’m sure you’ve got other places to be.”

Fiyero, truthfully, does have other places to be. He’s been invited to the Ozdust Ballroom by nine separate people today. But how can he leave you to just clean all this up by yourself? He can see just by the look on your face that you’re utterly exhausted.

“I do,” he says honestly. “But I’ll help you with this first.”

He’s surprised when you suddenly stop putting things in your bag and when he looks up, he finds you staring at him again. It makes him uncomfortable in the same way he felt last week when you’d looked at him in a similar way. 

“Okay,” you sigh. 

Your lack of energy in fighting him is the second thing to make Fiyero realise something is wrong.

After the two of you finish picking up all of the things you’d dropped, the both of you stand. Fiyero opens his mouth to say something when he notices you start to sway. He’s quicker this time, moving to catch you before you fall. His arm wraps around your waist to keep you steady, while his other hand takes the book bag off your shoulder and moves it straight onto his. He’s surprised by how heavy it is. 

“Woah, darling, what’s going on?” Fiyero looks down at you as you blink and push yourself away from him. “Hey, be careful, okay? I think you were just about to faint.”

You shake your head. “I just stood up too fast, that’s all.” You know the words are a lie, and you can tell that Fiyero knows that as well. First, he’d seen you trip coming out of the library, then he’d caught you when you’d almost fainted… you can’t hide it from him. That much becomes crystal clear immediately.

“Let’s get you somewhere you can sit down, okay?” Fiyero begins. “May I?” He gestures to you, asking silently if he can wrap an arm around you to support you incase you fall over again. 

You nod and allow him to guide you just around the corner into the small seating area off to the side of the library. It’s dark, the lanterns not being lit yet despite the fact that the sun had gone down over twenty minutes ago.

“I swear I’m not usually this clumsy,” you say sheepishly. “That’s twice you’ve stopped me from falling in the last two weeks… I suppose I should say thank you, Fiyero.”

Fiyero sits you down gently on the bench and sits your book bag down on the ground. He crouches down in front of you and reaches up to take your hands in his. He’s surprised when you don’t immediately pull away from him. “I don’t think you’ve ever called me by my first name before.”

“Oh,” you think on it for a second, trying to ignore the warm feeling of his hands and how comforting it is. “I guess I haven’t. Sorry, Tigelaar.”

“No, no,” Fiyero shakes his head. “Don’t go back to that. I like when you call me Fiyero.”

“Well, I suppose it is your name,” you offer a small smile.

“There’s that gorgeous smile,” Fiyero smiles back at you and squeezes your hands. “Now, are you gonna tell me why you almost just fainted on me and why you’re clumsier than you usually are, darling?”

You stay silent for a few moments and just when Fiyero begins to think that you might just brush him off and try to make a quick exit like you did last week, you start to speak.

“I haven’t really been sleeping well lately,” you admit quietly. “I’ve had so much work to do, I fell behind on my assignments and I took on some extra work from Doctor Dillamond and… despite my best efforts, I guess I let myself get a little burnt out.”

Fiyero looks at you with his eyes full of pity and you hate it. 

“Anyway,” you clear your throat, “that’s not important. Why would you care?”

Your attempt to make light of the situation fails spectacularly, judging by the look that Fiyero gives you afterwards. You’ve never seen him look that unimpressed before. 

“Of course I care,” he says, eyebrows furrowed. 

“Why, though?” You can’t help but ask. “Why are you so fixated on me?”

Fiyero sighs and moves to sit beside you, letting go of your hands in the process. “If you’ll allow me to be honest with you for a moment,” he starts, “I suppose… you’re the only person at Shiz that doesn’t treat me like the perfect Winkie Prince that everyone thinks I am. You’re the only person that doesn’t think I’m perfect, and half the time you act like you can’t stand to be around me, and for some reason that only makes me want to be around you more.” 

“Are you not the perfect Winkie Prince?” You ask.

Fiyero grins. “Oh, not in the slightest, darling. But let’s keep that between us. I’ll keep your secret if you keep mine. How does that sound?” 

You don’t even try to hide the smile that comes to your face at his words. “You promise you won’t tell anyone about what happened today?”

“I promise,” he nods. “But only on one condition: you tell Doctor Dillamond you can’t complete the extra work you signed up for and you take a break to make sure you get plenty of rest before diving into your other assignments. I’m sure I can sweet talk some of the Professors if you need help.” 

He smiles as you hit him with the same look as before, but for the first time, he doesn’t find himself feeling uncomfortable at the sight of it. Now, he finds it slightly amusing and incredibly endearing. He has always found you endearing, he supposes.

“Sweet talking my Professors will not be necessary,” you chuckle. “But okay. It’s a deal. And I’ll keep your secret too. You can continue to be the perfect Winkie Prince to everyone… except me.”

Fiyero laughs. “I’ll just be your Fiyero, then.”

“My Fiyero?” You repeat after him, eyebrows raised. 

He ignores the way his heart beats faster at the sound of those words coming out of your mouth. 

“Yes, your Fiyero,” he hums. 

“Everyone will think that you finally corrupted me after all this time,” you joke, voice teasing. “I’ll just be like everyone else at Shiz. Part of the Fiyero Tigelaar fan club.”

Fiyero fixes you with a look. “Oh, darling. You could never be like everyone else.” 

[daisymbin]

43. "how could you think i didn’t care?"

reader and jeonghan arguing because she feels like he never takes her concerns seriously and he realizes how much he’s unintentionally been hurting her feelings

reading this, I can already feel the hurt :/ thank you for requesting!!

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // hannie's m.list

angst prompt #43: "how could you think I didn't care?"

“you never take me seriously, jeonghan!” your voice cracks, and you hate how weak you sound.

jeonghan stares at you, his usual teasing smirk nowhere to be found. his brows furrow, lips parting as if to say something, but no words come out.

“all you do is laugh it off when i try to tell you how i feel,” you continue, your chest tightening with every word. “i’m always the one bending over backward to make sure you’re okay, but when it’s me—” you pause, swallowing hard. “when it’s me, you act like it’s nothing. like i’m nothing.”

his expression shifts, his jaw tightening. “that’s not fair,” he says, his tone low but firm.

“oh, it’s not fair?” you laugh bitterly, the sound foreign even to your own ears. “what’s not fair is how you always brush me off. i tell you i’m upset, and you crack a joke. i tell you i’m stressed, and you say, ‘don’t worry, you’ll be fine.’” your hands tremble as you clutch at your sides. “do you even care, jeonghan? do you even—”

“how could you think i didn’t care?” his voice cuts through yours, louder than you’ve ever heard him. it startles you, and for a moment, the room feels too small for the both of you.

your breath catches, and you finally look at him. his eyes glisten with something you can’t quite place—hurt, anger, regret.

“you think i don’t care because i don’t know how to handle it?” he steps closer, his voice softer now but no less intense. “do you know how hard it is for me to see you hurting? to feel so... useless because i can’t fix it for you?”

“then why—” you start, but he cuts you off again.

“because i thought if i could make you laugh, it would help.” his voice wavers, and he looks away, his hand running through his hair in frustration. “i didn’t know it made you feel like this. like i wasn’t listening. like i didn’t care.”

your heart aches at the raw emotion in his voice, but the hurt lingers, refusing to let you soften completely. “but you never said that, jeonghan. you never... let me see that side of you. all i saw was someone who didn’t take me seriously.”

his shoulders slump, and for the first time, he looks small—vulnerable in a way you’re not used to. “i’m sorry,” he whispers, the words heavy with sincerity. “i didn’t realize i was hurting you. i thought i was helping. i thought...” he exhales shakily. “i thought you knew how much you mean to me.”

silence stretches between you, broken only by the faint hum of the world outside.

“how could i?” you say softly, your voice trembling. “you never said it.”

he steps closer, his hand reaching out hesitantly before resting on your shoulder. his touch is warm, grounding. “then let me say it now,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “you mean everything to me. you always have. and i’m sorry i didn’t show it the way you needed me to. i’m sorry i made you feel like you were alone in this.”

tears well in your eyes, and you hate how easily his words unravel you. “i just wanted to feel like i mattered to you,” you admit, your voice breaking.

his grip on your shoulder tightens ever so slightly. “you matter more than anything,” he says, his gaze locking with yours. “and i’ll do better. i promise.”

you search his face for any sign of insincerity, but all you see is the boy you fell for—the boy who, despite his flaws, is trying his best to meet you halfway.

and for now, that’s enough.

[therootbeersprite]

I want to respond to what @headspace-hotel said above.

Yes, the knowledge DOES have intrinsic value! To us. But the people who are in favor of these cuts have different values than we do, and to them that which does not serve them does not have any value. So it's important to highlight for them why the things that we care about are things that they also should care about. Another example of this is people who don't care about the environment, but DO care about their property values being decimated by the effects of climate change (even if they think that climate change itself is a hoax).

Look, I get it. Im a broke-as-shit queer AFAB disabled Jew. I've literally got blue hair and pronouns. These people do not like me and I do not like them. They have proven that in the best case scenario they would indifferently step on my desiccated corpse for the rumored hint of a "concept of a plan" of a tax cut. Appealing to them on a moral basis does not work because their morals are different from ours.

However, we do not have the numbers or the power to get anything good done without them. We need to get them to back us, and we can only do that by reaching them where they are, which means explaining to them why they should care about these things, not just why we care about them. It doesn't matter *why* they support our policies, as long as they *do* support our policies, even if it is for the "wrong" reasons. That's the hard work of coalition building. Sometimes you have to work with people that you wouldn't want to eat with, and sometimes you have to explain to people that the bug research that you value because you care about knowledge for the sake of knowledge also affects agriculture and therefore the prices at the grocery store that they care about.

There’s a bunch of right-wing people posting memes about “”DOGE”” making the government more efficient by removing funding from “”dumb bug researchers”” and I am now realizing how little the average person knows about entomology and its importance

Excuse me while I get sad .

[milktiicup]

Helloooo! I love your writing so much! I read it all day every time you post, especially your homicipher ones 🥹🫶 I hope you're doing great today btw!

If it isn't too much to ask, can you write the homicipher cast's reactions about the baby of Mr. Crawling and Mc? 👀

I imagine some would be very funny 😭

Have a lovely dayyy! Mwamwa!

little hands, dark hearts!

homicipher cast meeting you and mr crawling's baby! > scarletella, silvair, chopped, hood, machete mr crawling baby saga! chapter 1 chapter 2

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🌊 ⋅ ˚✮ i think you can tell i have favs by the amount of length and detail some of these have dkjfhkdhdgj

warnings. lol just pure angst in mr. scarletella's

MR. SCARLETELLA

He stares. And he stares. And he stares.

The silence is suffocating, weighing heavier than the shadows beneath his feet. Dull, grey eyes bore into yours, searching for answers that you couldn’t give. 

Of course, he brought you here to be with him. You gave him all these lovely offerings, shedding beautiful blood in his name, stared directly into his eyes as he enveloped you, taking you to his domain- but you wouldn’t give him your name. You stand there, swinging your crowbar, defiance burning in your eyes. It’s not fear he sees, not submission, but anger- a raw, searing thing that slices through the quiet like a blade. And it confuses him. No, it infuriates him.

His grip on his umbrella tightens, the knuckles whitening. His lips twist into a scowl, but behind it, something softer flickers- an ache he doesn’t know how to name. He’s used to taking. Claiming. But you… you’re not like the others. You’re still standing. Still staring. Still resisting.

And it only makes him want you more.

But then there’s him.

That thing. That crawling, pathetic thing that dares to share the space you once offered to him.

What does that creature have that he doesn’t? What pull does it hold over you, to make you look at it like that? Mr. Scarletella hates him. Oh, how he hates him. He hates your baby. Hates the way its small hands grasp at you, the way you cradle it against your chest as if it’s the most precious thing in your world. He hates the way your smile softens when you whisper to it, the way you laugh when it coos.

You look so happy. How could he take that away from you? And yet- how could you do this to him? You like him. He likes you. Why did you pick him?

The resentment pools in his chest like ink, sticky and dark. He wants to scream, to tear down this fragile illusion of happiness you’ve built, to drag you back into his arms where you belong. And yet, his hands tremble. His scowl falters.

You look so happy.

And the thought guts him. How could he take that away from you?

His lips twitch, caught between a sneer and a sigh, as he looks away. For the first time, he doesn’t know if he’s strong enough to take what he wants.

Mr. Scarletella’s chest rises and falls, his breath unsteady. His umbrella clatters to the ground, forgotten as his hands flex and curl into fists at his sides. He steps closer, the air around him rippling with suppressed fury.

“Why?” The question tears from his throat, jagged and raw, barely above a whisper. His crimson eyes gleam with something between desperation and rage. “Why?”

He’s staring at you again, but this time, there’s no pretense of control. Just pain, naked and wild, burning in the shadows of his gaze.

You don’t answer. How could you?

So, he waits. And he stares. And he waits.

MR. SILVAIR

Mr. Silvair holds your baby, careful and learning. His bandage gaze peers into the little eyes, baby babbling and cooing and reaching for his hair. He smiles, soft and curious. 

His infatuation with your child is endless. How was it possible for you two to procreate? To create something from something undead, a ghost, a monster- and a perfectly normal human. Questions that he will never have answers for- questions he doesn’t dare act upon. The baby is fragile, soft, and defenseless. He couldn’t take it apart and put it back together- he can’t break something that could never be fixed.

And the question eggs him at the back of his mind- what if it could?

His hands steady yet soft, as though he’s cradling the most fragile thing in existence. The baby babbles, tiny fists reaching for the loose strands of his silver hair, and when their fingers catch hold of it, she giggles with pure delight.

“Them like,” he observes, his voice unusually tender.

You stifle a laugh. “Of course she does. It’s shiny. Babies love shiny things.”

His head tilts slightly, silver hair brushing against the baby’s chubby cheeks as they continue their determined mission to grab at more strands. “Shiny good?” he asks, his curiosity genuine, as if this is just another puzzle he’s determined to solve.

“Very good,” you assure him, stepping closer to watch the two of them. “She’s clearly a fan.”

The baby lets out a happy squeal, wriggling in his grasp. Silvair’s gaze flickers down to her, and though his eyes are hidden, there’s something warm in his expression. “Strong grip,” he notes, “Healthy.”

You smile softly, leaning against the counter. “She’s got her father’s energy, that’s for sure.”

Mr. Silvair doesn’t respond immediately, instead focusing on the baby as they try- and fail- to stuff one of his fingers into their tiny mouth. He gently redirects their hands, careful and patient. “Small,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “Important.”

His words catch you off guard, and you glance at him. “Important?”

He looks up, tilting his head. “From you. Important. Interested in them.”

The simplicity of his statement warms something in your chest, even if he was purely fascinated with your child out of sheer scientific interest. You’re not sure if he fully understands the weight of his words, but at this moment, it doesn’t matter. You’ll take the softness of the moment. 

The baby lets out another squeal, this one more demanding, and Mr. Silvair bounces them slightly in his arms, an action so natural it makes you blink in surprise. The baby quiets immediately, snuggling into his chest with a content sigh.

“Good,” he says, more to the baby than to you. 

You can’t help but laugh, the sound light and genuine. “She likes you,” you comment with a shuffled laugh. Of all the monsters here, your child just has to like the one who tears you apart. 

Mr. Silvair tilts his head again, his smile returning faintly as he glances down at the now-sleepy baby. “Me like them.”

“Cute?”

“Cute.”

MR. CHOPPED

“Want carry them,” Mr. Chopped pouts, cheeks puffed. “Them cute.”

“She’s so cute, isn’t she?” you chuckle.

The baby giggles, a toothless, gummy smile as bright as the sun. He frowned, his eyes narrowing in a mix of frustration and wistful longing. “Me carry. Want carry,” he repeated, his tone almost petulant.

“You’d need arms for that,” you tease, bouncing the baby lightly on your hip. The baby squeals, her laugh infectious, and you couldn’t help but grin down at her. “She’s so happy to see you, though. Look, she’s waving!” You guide her tiny hand in a slow wave toward Mr. Chopped.

His face lit up with exaggerated enthusiasm, his head tilting as he “leans” closer, as if proximity would help convey his affection. “Cute,” he said with deep conviction. “Many cute. Little human.”

The baby gurgles in response, her toothless smile lighting up her face. She reaches out as though she wants to grab him, her tiny fingers opening and closing in that delightful way babies do.

“See?” you laugh. “She wants to hold you!”

Mr. Chopped’s pout deepens dramatically. “Unfair. No arms. No hold. No carry. Me sad.”

You shook your head, amused. “You’re fine, Mr. Chopped. She can’t even hold her own head up for long; I’m sure she’s not judging you for not having arms.”

“Baby not judge,” he said solemnly, his voice tender. “Baby happy.”

“She likes you,” you reassure him with a smile. “You’ve got that big, friendly face, and you’re always talking to her like she’s the most fascinating thing in the world.”

“Them are,” he said matter-of-factly, his tone so earnest it made you laugh again.

“Well, maybe one day we’ll rig up some kind of… carrier for you,” you offered jokingly. “So you can hold her. Or at least let her sit in your lap- if you had one.”

Mr. Chopped perked up at that, his cheeks puffing out again with excitement this time. “Yes! Make lap. Make arms. Then carry. Hug!”

“She’d probably love that,” you said, kissing the baby’s soft head. She giggled again, her tiny hands reaching out toward Mr. Chopped, her eyes bright and full of wonder.

MR. HOOD

“Not understand,” Mr. Hood repeats.

You sigh. “You have to support the back of her head,” you say, guiding his ghostly arm to the baby’s nape. “Gentle. She’s fragile.”

“Weak,” he observes. “Much small.”

“Yeah,” you agree, “so we have to protect her.”

Mr. Hood’s form shifts as he processes your instructions, the faintest hint of curiosity flickering through his voice. “Protect... small weak thing.” His hand hovers near the baby’s head. It trembles slightly, not from lack of strength but from hesitation- like a predator trying to handle something delicate for the first time.

You place your hands over his, guiding him with care. “That’s right. Support her head. Babies can’t hold their heads up yet.”

He tilts slightly, as though trying to look closer, though his featureless head offers no expression to read. The baby gurgles softly, her tiny fingers curling around one of his. The textureless appendage seems to surprise her, and she coos in delight, kicking her chubby legs.

“Why small thing hold?” Mr. Hood asks, his voice edged with wonder.

“She’s curious,” you explain, smiling at the sight. “She doesn’t know what you are, but she wants to hold on to you.”

“Not wise.” His tone is flat, but there’s no malice in it. He shifts slightly, his massive frame dwarfing her. “Me danger. Not afraid?”

“She doesn’t know fear yet,” you say softly. “She only knows what feels safe.”

His hand rests under the baby’s head and back now, cradling her with surprising gentleness. The contrast is almost surreal- his immense strength and amorphous form against the fragility of a newborn. The baby giggles again, wiggling in his hold.

“Small thing… trust,” he murmurs, his tone almost contemplative.

“She does,” you say, watching them with a warmth blooming in your chest. “And that’s why we protect her.”

“Protect,” he repeats, as if testing the word. His grip shifts slightly, more confident. “Protect small thing. Understand.”

It’s strange, seeing someone- or something- like Mr. Hood in this role, but in the quiet moment, his usual air of detachment seems to melt away. The baby yawns, her tiny body sinking deeper into his hold, completely at ease.

MR. GAP

“Give little thing,” Mr. Gap says from the vent, his voice more curious than menacing. You freeze, hand still cradling your baby close to your chest as his long, dark arm stretches out, holding something soft and fluffy- a teddy bear.

Your baby, who has been cooing and kicking her legs happily in your arms, notices the movement. Her bright eyes widen, and she reaches out toward the stuffed bear with an eager little giggle.

“Give them?” It’s such an innocent request. He’s just offering the bear, his dark figure so out of place in the light of the room, but there’s something almost endearing about it.

You laugh softly, a smile tugging at your lips. “Oh, she’d love that,” you say. “She’s been really into cuddly things lately.”

The baby coos again, her tiny hands reaching for the bear, almost as if she recognizes the gesture as a gift. She touches it gently, then pulls it closer to her chest in a little snuggle, her face lighting up with joy.

“See? She likes it!” you say, glancing at Mr. Gap, your voice teasing. “Thanks to you.”

Mr. Gap pulls back slightly, his hand retreating into the vent, but you catch a glimpse of a subtle shift in his posture- a pleased air about him, as if he’s satisfied with the outcome.

“Them happy?” he asks.

You smile warmly, watching the baby continue to clutch the teddy bear like it’s her new best friend. “Yeah, she’s happy. And that makes me happy.”

A soft, quiet chuckle seems to come from the vent, and you can almost imagine a small, pleased grin behind the shadows. “Good,” Mr. Gap says, his voice full of pride. “Me good.”

The bear is now in the baby’s tiny hands, and her sleepy eyes begin to flutter shut, the soft comfort of the stuffed toy pulling her into a drowsy stupor. You gently rock her back and forth, watching as she drifts off to sleep, clutching the bear to her chest like it’s the most important thing in the world.

“Thank you, Mr. Gap,” you say softly, though he’s long disappeared back into his shadowy realm. You’re not sure if he heard, but you still find yourself whispering it anyway.

And for a brief, fleeting moment, everything feels a little bit lighter.

MR. MACHETE

“What… that?” he asks, a finger lazily pointing at your baby nestled in your arms.

“It’s my baby!” you reply, pridefully, and cradle her for exaggeration. Within a second, your face falls firm, and you sternly say, “No fighting little thing.”

“Not fight?” Mr. Machete’s jagged smile turns into a comical looking frown. He scowls, and turns away. “Not interested.”

“Mr. Macheteee,” you whine, “Just look at her! Isn’t she just so cute?”

Mr. Machete pauses mid-step, his broad shoulders tensing at your words. He lets out a huff, loud and exaggerated, before reluctantly glancing over his shoulder. “Cute?” he echoes, the word sounding foreign on his tongue. His tone is skeptical, almost offended. His machete falls to his side, an ear-scratching ‘clang!’ that disturbs you more than your baby.

The baby coos, her tiny hands waving aimlessly in the air. Her bright, gummy smile beams up at him, and for a moment, Mr. Machete looks genuinely stumped. 

“Them small. Shape wrong,” he notes, leaning in closer. His massive frame looms over her, but he makes no move to get too close. “Weak. No teeth. Cannot hold attack tool.”

He stares at the baby a moment longer, his scowl softening ever so slightly as the baby giggles, a bright, happy sound that cuts through his rough demeanor like a blade. She reaches toward him, her tiny fingers grabbing at the air, and for reasons you don’t quite understand, he doesn’t immediately pull away.

The baby’s determination seems to intrigue him. He tilts his head and extends a single finger- not a threatening move, but cautious, almost testing. Her tiny hand catches his finger, and she grips it tightly, her toothless grin growing impossibly wider.

“Them strong,” he finally admits, his voice low but tinged with what could almost be considered respect. “When little thing big, fight.”

You roll your eyes. Well, at least he gave your baby some attention.

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

I’m imagining Bucky having a hard time vocalizing “I love you,” to anyone, no matter how much he wants to.

While learning some basic ASL in order to better communicate with Clint, Bucky learns to say “I love you,” (🤟) to the reader.

I Love You » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Female Reader

Summary: Bucky has a hard time vocalizing “I love you” so he asks Clint for him to help him say it to you by using ASL.

Warnings: Fluff, language, tiny mention of HYDRA, kissing, pet names

A/N: Thank you for the request, nonnie🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.

Ever since Bucky met you, he knew that he’s in love with you. You and him have been on a few dates. He wants to take the next step in yours and in relationship by asking you to by his girlfriend and say “I love you” to you.

If Bucky is being honest, he’s been having a hard time trying to vocally say “I love you” to you. Ever since HYDRA and his days as the Winter Soldier, he didn’t think he’d find love. That was until he met you. He didn’t have trouble with finding love when he was younger. It’s like HYDRA stripped him of that.

Bucky wants to say “I love you” to you, but he needs some help with that. So he decided to ask Clint for help on it.

“Hey, Clint. Can I ask you something?” Bucky asks as he approaches Clint.

“Yea. What’s up, man?” Clint asks, putting his bow and arrow on the ground.

“You’ve been married for a while, right?” He asks.

“Yea. Why?” He asks.

“Well, you know that me and Y/N have been seeing each other, but we haven’t made it official yet.” He begins. “I was wondering if you could help me out with saying “I love you” without saying it.” He says.

“You’re in luck.” Clint put a comforting hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “You came to the right person. Me and Natasha used sign language to communicate sometimes when we were on missions and had to be quiet.” He said.

“I don’t know any sign language.” Bucky says.

“It’s easy, especially if you’re doing the sign for “I love you”.” He said. “Hold your hand up.” He says.

Bucky held up his right hand and then looked at Clint, waiting for more instructions.

“Now put down your middle and ring fingers.” Clint tells him.

Bucky did just that, leaving his index finger, pinky, and thumb up.

“That’s sign language for “I love you”.” He tells him.

“Woah, that’s easy.” Bucky says, looking at his hand.

“I told you it would be, man.” Clint smiles. “Let me know how it goes.” He says, giving Bucky a pat on his back.

Bucky looks at his hand again and smiles before looking for you. He found you in the lounge room.

“I was wondering where you were, Bucky.” You kissed his cheek. “I was thinking about our date tonight.” You say, smiling up at him and playing with the collar of his jacket.

“Me too.” Bucky smiles back. “But I have something to tell you.” He says nervously.

“What is it?” You asked curiously.

Bucky took a deep breath. He hasn’t felt this nervous about anything in years. He looked down at his right hand before lifting it up and holding up his index finger, pinky, and thumb. You looked at his hand and smiled widely.

“Are you trying to tell me that you love me?” You asked.

“Y-Yes.” Bucky answers with a stutter.

You stood on your tippy toes and kissed his lips sweetly. You felt Bucky smiles before against your lips.

“I love you too, Buck.” You say softly, looking in his blue eyes.

“Does this mean you’ll be my best girl?” He asks.

“Of course I will!” You answered.

The smiles never left your faces. Bucky’s hands gently caressed your cheeks and he kissed you passionately.

“How about we change our date to now?” Bucky suggests. “I can’t wait any longer to take you out.” He says.

“That sounds great to me.” You smile up at him.

You then held your hand up, signing “I love you” to him. Bucky smiles and signed “I love you” back.

Hopefully Bucky will be able to say “I love you” to you. He hopes that’s sometime soon.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[rokkit-story-time]

"I..." I glanced down and took a step back. "...I'd rather not talk about it..."

The big man leaned in, a curious look on his face. "Oh~? Something secret~? What, does it have some big weakness... or maybe it's something you're ashamed of?" I tried to keep any reaction off my face, but he noticed my half-wince and pushed forward. "That's it, huh!? You shouldn't worry, man! There's at least two people here who have some sacrificial ritual to keep theirs going! So just tell-"

A hand landed on his shoulder suddenly. "Drop it." The girl in leather he mentioned before gave me a sympathetic look.

The man didn't move. "Why!? I just want to know what we're working with!"

Her look became a glare as she turned to him. "Because this is loop 37, and I'm getting tired of trying to explain everything to you. This questioning goes *badly*, for everyone present. Stop."

The man blinked, then looked back to me for a long moment while I failed to meet his eyes. Finally he nodded, and when she released his shoulder he took a step away from me. "I'll go see if the magic types have had an idea yet..."

As she watched him leave, I spoke up quietly, just for her ears. "...so. I've been set off 36 times then?"

She looked back at me with a gentle smile and nodded. "Yeah, but don't worry. We'll figure something out that doesn't involve... *That* happening."

I shook my head before whispering, "I don't know if you will... Through those other loops, you've probably figured out what my power does. But, did you ever learn where it comes from...?"

The girl's smile faded, replaced with a wary, worried look. "No. I was more focused on dealing with the others and... Well, left you over here in the corner." She gave me a sheepish smile, but the worry stayed in her eyes.

"A shame that doesn't work, but I'm not surprised... Something always sets me off, in every situation. No matter how much I wish it never happened." I hunched in on myself. "A room full of immortals, trapped and unsure of how we got here? I *know* why I'm part of it..."

Her voice dropped even further, and she took a step closer to minimize the chance she was overheard. "...because you're the only person who can kill most of us." I nodded, the tiniest of motions. "But why? Who would want a bunch of unrelated immortals from across the world dead? And why did you mention where you...?" She trailed off, horrified realization dawning in her eyes.

I nodded again. "Because I don't think Death takes kindly to all of you."

"So, what immortality do you have?" "What?" "Well everybody in this room has a type of immortality, I got hyper regeneration, the guy over the is a lich, the girl in leather can save and reload, and I am not bothered enough to keep talking so what is your immortality?"

[justagalwhowrites]

Fucksgiving 2k24: Growing Family

You and Joel try to patch things up with your father while starting a family of your own. A Thanksgiving oneshot in the Stranger in a Bar universe.

^This is how I pictured this Joel as I was writing, with his lil tie on. Sorry not sorry.

Pairing: DBF!Joel x Female Reader (from Stranger in a Bar)

Length: 3.8k

CW: BREEDING KINK. Unprotected P in V for obvious reasons. Planning for pregnancy. Age gap (Joel is 20 years older, reader is 35 and Joel is 55.) Reader's dad is kind of a dick. No outbreak AU. Can be read as a stand alone fic with the understanding that Joel was reader's dad's bestie and he and reader are living together after dating years prior. No use of Y/N, minors DNI 18+ only.

A/N: Here's something to read while you navigate your own Thanksgiving dinner situations which are, hopefully, less awkward than this one. Happy Thanksgiving!!

“I mean it,” you said, clutching the casserole dish of mashed potatoes tightly to your stomach. “Best. Behavior.” 

“When am I ever not on my best behavior?” Joel asked, his hand on the small of your back possessively. 

You stopped in the middle of the drive on the mercifully long walk to your parents’ front door to stare at him, incredulous. 

“When are you?” You asked, brows raised. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you behave yourself, not once, especially not where my dad is involved…” 

“Alright,” he chuckled good naturedly. “I’ll do my best.” 

“You’d better,” you said. “He’s just coming around to this, OK? I’d rather not blow it.” 

“I know, baby,” he said, kissing your temple. “I’ll be good. Promise.” 

“Thank you,” you said, continuing up to the front door.

“Your dad needs to behave too, though,” Joel said, sticking close to you. “Because I’m not gonna just let him say the same shit he always does, I don’t care.” 

“Please try,” you said, ringing the doorbell. “If you do, I’ll make it worth your while.” 

“Really?” He asked, his voice husky. “Dyin’ to know what you mean by that.” 

“I mean,” you said, keeping your voice low. “Given how much I want to fuck your brains out, I’m pretty sure I’m ovulating and I can think of all kinds of ways you can try to knock me up - hey Mom!” 

“Hey, honey!” Your mom opened the door and pulled you in for a hug. You just caught Joel’s expression out of the corner of your eye, his mouth slightly agape as he stared at you. “Oh, it’s so good to see you.” 

“It’s good to see you, too,” you gave her a squeeze, carefully angling the casserole dish away from her before stepping back. “We come bearing potatoes.” 

“So you do!” She said, taking the dish before turning to your boyfriend and taking a deep breath. “Joel. Always good to see you.” 

You looked to Joel and saw him collect himself for half a second before smiling to your mom. 

“Good to see you, too,” he said. “Been a while.” 

“Yeah,” she smiled a little bigger and reached out to give his arm a squeeze. “It has.” 

You gave Joel an encouraging smile as the two of you followed your mother into a kitchen that was overflowing with dishes. 

“Can I help?” You asked, laughing a little as you looked around. 

“Oh…” she sighed, looking around before she laughed, too. “Yes, yes please. Your father has been utterly useless, just wandering around, muttering to himself. Not that he’s the most helpful in the kitchen but he’s not completely incompetent…”

“He’s good on the grill,” you said. “Kitchen… eh.” 

“Well, yes,” she giggled conspiratorially. “But I try to give him credit where it’s due. Usually I’m not on my own for a holiday but this year he’s been… something.” 

You just hummed in agreement and started in on the green beans because you were pretty sure you knew the reason why your dad was acting strange and that reason was currently asking your mom how she wanted the cucumber cut for the salad. 

Joel and your father had barely spoken in the six months since you’d moved back to Austin and gotten back together with Joel. 

Not that you were too surprised about that. He was, after all, one of your dad’s closest friends and was much closer to his age than your own. You hadn’t exactly expected the news of your relationship to go over well but it had been even worse than you’d anticipated. 

You’d arranged to talk to your parents in public when you decided to tell them. Neutral ground, as it were. Plus, you were pretty sure your father would be less likely to punch Joel in the face if you were in public. 

It ended up not making much of a difference. 

“You’re what!” Your father stood up so fast that his chair fell over, the sharp clatter of the wood on the tile restaurant floor and violence of his tone plunging the once bustling room into silence. 

“Dad,” you said gently. “It’s not a big deal…” 

“The hell it’s not!” He yelled, looking between the two of you. “When the fuck did this start, hm? When the hell did you start fucking my daughter!” 

“Why don’t you sit down and…” Joel began, but your dad didn’t let him finish. 

“Don’t you dare tell me what to do,” he put his finger inches from Joel’s face. “She is a child!” 

“I’m 35!” You gaped at him. “Dad, you’re being ridiculous!” 

“You’re already in hot water,” he snapped at you. “So keep your damn mouth shut while…” 

“Don’t talk to her that way,” Joel said, standing up with too much force, his voice hot. “You got a problem with me, handle it with me, don’t take it out on her.” 

“Don’t you tell me how to treat my own fucking kid!” Your dad yelled. “I’ll handle her however I damn well please!” 

You weren’t sure who threw the first punch but it devolved quickly then, your mother pulling your father away while you dragged Joel back, both men bloody and panting for breath. 

You kept your distance from your father after that. You talked to your mom regularly - she was smart enough to give up on trying to talk you out of your relationship quickly and, eventually, was even happy for you - but your father took some time. 

After a while, he was willing to talk to you. Your mother must have given him strict rules - he didn’t try to talk you out of your relationship or question Joel’s integrity - but it was stiff and awkward. 

Thanksgiving had been your mom’s idea. Joel was hesitant but - after you conspired with Sarah (you and Joel’s daughter becoming fast friends once you moved past the awkwardness of your closeness in age) so she would stay in Dallas to go to have dinner with her boyfriend’s family - he’d agreed eventually. 

“If this don’t prove how much I love you, woman,” he’d grumbled as he tied his tie that morning. 

“You? Love me?” You asked, adjusting the knot under his chin. “News to me…” 

“Uh huh,” he smiled a little, just enough to make his cheek dimple. 

“Never said it,” you had to fight to hold your smirk back. “Definitely not 20 times while you were inside me last night…” 

“That don’t sound like me at all,” he teased back before going to kiss your cheek. “You look beautiful, baby.” 

“Well, I do have a hot date.” 

“Really? When’s he showing up?” 

You glared at him and he laughed before giving you another kiss. 

“Let’s go before I lose my damn nerve,” he said. “Gonna be the most awkward Thanksgiving ever.” 

For a little while, there in the kitchen with just Joel and your mother, you almost forgot how awkward this was supposed to be. 

You and Joel moved around each other in tandem now. You’d been living together for months and you’d fallen into sync so fast it was almost strange when you stopped to think about it. When you’d moved in with your ex, it took what felt like a small eternity to really understand the flow of his life, to subconsciously recognize where he was going in the kitchen when you were cooking side by side, to remember to consider him when making decisions big and small. With Joel, it was almost instantaneous. There had been no odd fumbling around each other as you went through your lives under one roof, no putting one brand of peanut butter back to pick up the one you suddenly remembered he preferred, no confusion or frustration when you came home from the office to find him not back yet. It all clicked, like you’d been built to do this alongside each other all along. Even in the unfamiliar space of your parents’ kitchen, his hand found the small of your back as he moved behind you to get a serving bowl and you just knew which knife to pass him from the block beside you when he went to reach for it. 

Things shifted when your sister showed up about an hour and a half before dinner, her arrival finally coaxing your father out from wherever he’d been hiding since you and Joel had gotten there. 

“Hey Dad,” you smiled at him after he finished greeting your sister and he stood, hovering awkwardly in the kitchen. “Good to see you.” 

“Good to see you, too, princess,” he said pulling you in for a quick hug. 

He turned his attention to Joel then, looking him up and down like he would an adversary. 

“Joel,” he said, nodding once. 

“Hey man,” Joel said, holding his hand out. Your father’s jaw twitched but he shook Joel’s hand all the same. “Good to see you.” 

Your father just grunted before going to the fridge and getting out a beer. Joel followed him and you and your mother exchanged worried glances. 

“Think the Cowboys are gonna pull out a win this year?” Joel asked. 

Your dad held his beer for a moment, looking like he was considering just not responding but then seemed to think better of it. 

“We’ll see,” he said. “With their record, I’d settle for not getting our asses handed to us.” 

Things were easier after that. Your father and Joel disappeared to the living room and you heard the telltale sounds of football follow immediately after.

“I still can’t believe you’re fucking Dad’s weirdly hot friend!” Your sister said, just quiet enough that your mother was out of earshot. “Or that you were for years, forever ago! Seriously, there are rules about holding back to your sister like that.” 

“You don’t need to know everything I do, you know,” you said. 

“No but I need to know everyone you do,” she said. You snorted. “So… you think it’s going to last?” 

“Well, we’re trying for kids,” you said, putting the last of the shredded cheese on the mac and cheese. “So it’d better.” 

“What!” She yelped. 

“What?” Your mom ran over. “Everyone OK? Did you burn yourself?” 

“We’re good,” you smiled. “Just catching up. Sister shit, you know.” 

“Yeah,” your sister said. “Sister shit.” 

Your mother went back to the other side of the kitchen and your sister mouthed oh my God at you and you fought the urge to laugh. Your dad might hate your boyfriend but at least you could count on your sister to be your sister. 

Eventually, the rest of the family came over, too, and everyone settled around the overly full dining room table, Joel sitting beside you with a reassuring hand on your knee as he made small talk with one of your uncles. 

Dinner went surprisingly well, at least until everyone was a few glasses of wine deep and your father decided to pick a fight. 

“So, Joel,” he said, setting his wine glass down with a little too much force. “Not sure if I should thank you for getting my daughter to move back home or if I should blame you for her obsession with being a failed musician for a living.” 

“Dad!” Your sister gaped at him. “What the fuck!” 

“Language, please!” Your mother said. 

“Just seems to be real clear to me now,” he said. “Doubt she’d be so stuck on playing that damn guitar all the time if it weren’t for your bad influence.” 

“Bad influence?” You laughed. “Dad, I’m almost middle aged, I’m not some impressionable teenager. I love my work, I don’t consider myself to be a failure just because I do music therapy instead of being a rock star, I…” 

“You could have actually done something with yourself, you know,” he cut you off. “Instead, you decided to drive your life into the ground with this man and some bullshit career path…” 

“Watch it,” Joel said sharply. “Not gonna let you talk to her that way. You will treat her with respect or I will make you treat her with respect.” 

“Respect?” Your dad asked, his eyebrows raised. “You’re gonna sit there, in my house, at my table and lecture me about respect when you decided to take up with my daughter?” 

“Stop it!” You shoved your chair back, throwing your napkin on your gravy smeared plate. “Both of you! Dad, stop acting like your my keeper and that I don’t have any goddamn agency because you raised me! Joel, stop acting like I need you to defend my honor! Just… fucking stop it!” 

“Baby,” Joel said but you ignored him, stalking off to the guest room at the back of your parents’ house, needing some space from everyone. 

You let yourself cry for a minute, sitting on the edge of the bed and staring at an old family photo of you with your parents and sister, back when you were just 10 years old. Your hand drifted to your lower stomach. You weren’t pregnant yet - at least, not that you knew - but you couldn’t imagine your child doing anything that would make you as mad at them as your father seemed to be at you loving Joel. 

There was a soft knock at the door and you wiped your eyes on the backs of your wrists. 

“Yeah?” 

“S’me,” Joel said quietly. “Can I come in?” 

“Yeah,” you sniffed. 

He came in, closing the door gently behind him before sitting next to you. 

“You OK?” He asked after a moment. 

“I will be,” you sniffed again. 

“I’m sorry baby,” he said, reaching out and cupping your face, his thumb tracing the arch of your cheekbone. “Know I promised to be on my best behavior but… Look, him being a dick to me is fine, I can handle that. I just can’t watch him say that shit to you. But that don’t mean I should get… aggressive and…” 

“It’s not your fault,” you said. “I’d do the same thing if I were you, I can’t really blame you for it. And I appreciate that you care about me…” 

“I love you,” he smiled a little. “More than just about anything else. But that means I need to take care of you in the way you want me to, not just the way I want to do it.” 

You smiled tightly before leaning in to kiss him. Joel kissed you back, gentle at first but, before long, something shifted, the kiss becoming hot and needy. 

“Baby,” Joel said, his voice low. “Should… should probably get back out there…” 

“They can wait,” you said, panting a little. “I want you.” 

He groaned, nipping at your lower lip but still hesitating. 

“Please, Joel,” you breathed, pressing yourself closer to him. “I need you. Let’s make a baby.” 

“Fuck,” he said, his tone shifting, and then he was on you. His tongue plunged into your mouth as he lay you back on the bed. 

He didn’t bother taking your panties off, just tucking them to the side and tugging the low v-neck of your sweater down to expose your cleavage. 

“Christ, you’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he groaned, cupping your sex with one hand and tugging your breasts free of your bra with the other. He mouthed at your nipple, licking and sucking over your breasts as he ground his palm against your clit, one thick finger slipping inside your seam to your already dripping entrance. “Don’t deserve you, baby.” 

“Yes you do,” you whispered. “You deserve the world.” 

He just moaned in response, kissing you again, one large hand cupping your breast, his thumb brushing your nipple. 

It wasn’t long before he shoved his pants and underwear down just enough to free his cock and he jerked himself a few times with the hand that had become coated in your wetness. He notched himself at your entrance, his head thick and large and swollen, and pressed inside, a moment of resistance before your channel stretched over him and he buried himself within you. 

He pulled his lips from yours, his head falling to the bed over your shoulder as he panted for breath. 

“Goddamn you feel good,” he said, voice tight and hot in your ear. You rolled your hips up against him, making him moan. 

“Good,” you said. “Love making you feel good, sometimes that’s all I want to do.” 

“Fuck, you think your daddy hates me now,” he said. “If he knew what you do to me he’d shoot me.” 

He started to fuck into you then, keeping his chest pressed tight to yours while his cock worked you hard and fast inside, his head finding that soft and tender place within you that built your orgasm fast with every stroke. He ground his cock against you there, his hips on your clit, making every ounce of need inside yourself gather tight and low. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you panted. “I’m gonna come, you’re gonna make me come, I…” 

“Good,” he growled. “Come for me, come while I get you pregnant, c’mon baby and come all over me.” 

You had to bury your face in his shoulder to keep quiet, your orgasm hitting you hard and fast, your center fluttering over his thick length as he held himself inside you. 

“Oh you like hearin’ that, huh?” He asked, breathless, starting to move again, already building your next orgasm as he did. “Like hearing how I’m gonna put a baby in my baby, that it?” 

“Yes,” you groaned, your second climax growing quickly. “Yes, please, please, please, please…” 

“You don’t gotta beg for it baby,” he said, pulling back from you enough to look you in the eyes as he spoke. “I’ll give you everything, as many babies as you want, fuck, gonna give you my baby right now, gonna make you pregnant, fuck!” 

He buried his face in your neck and pressed himself so deep inside you as he came, the heat of him spilling into you in thick, heavy pulses. 

“Fuck,” he said after he finished, kissing your neck before pulling back from you to kiss your lips, too. “Didn’t mean to come that quick, wanted to get you off one more time first.” 

“It’s OK,” you said, panting, even though it was kind of a lie. You’d been so close to coming again that you felt tight inside your skin, an energy rippling over you that you knew you wouldn’t be able to shake until you came again once you got home. 

“No, it’s not,” he said, sitting up and slowly, carefully pulling his softening cock from you. “Got you all worked up, not taking care of you the way you deserve if I don’t finish the job.” 

You felt some of his come slip out of you but he caught it with the tip of his cock, pressing it back inside before tucking himself away in his underwear and cupping your swollen, aching sex. 

“I’ll take care of you,” he said quietly. “Take care of you the rest of my life.” 

He worked your clit, slow and gentle circles at first before his touch grew firmer, drawing your orgasm back to the surface in the way that only Joel seemed to know how to do. You came to his touch, feeling his thick come inside you as you did, like your body was trying to pull him even deeper inside. 

“There you go,” he said, his eyes locked on your dripping pussy. “Fuck, so pretty, every damn inch of you.” 

You panted for breath, relaxing down into the bed before suddenly remembering that your entire family was down the hall. 

“Fuck,” you sighed. “We should get back.” 

“We should,” Joel said, tugging your panties back in place and helping you cover your chest again before chuckling. “Think your daddy really might shoot me if he found us like this.” 

You laughed and sat up, looking at Joel for a moment. You trailed your fingers through his hair and he smiled a little, his eyes crinkling at the edges. 

“Really not sure why you think I’m worth all this trouble,” he said. “But I sure am thankful I have you.” 

You smiled back. 

“I’m thankful for you, too.” 

You kissed him and he helped make sure your hair and makeup didn’t look like you just got fucked within an inch of your life before you emerged, the party having moved to the living room, your mom and aunts on one side of the room, your dad and uncles on the other, an uncomfortable silence falling when the two of you walked in. 

“Joel,” your dad said, getting up and walking over with a sigh. “Look… not sure I’ll ever really be OK with this but… my daughter could do worse than a man seems to adore her and is willing to stand up for her.” 

“I do adore her,” Joel said. “I love her. I want to do everything I can for here as long as she’ll let me.” 

Your dad nodded slowly. 

“Think I can live with that,” he said. “But you hurt her? I will kill you.” 

Joel laughed a little. 

“I expect nothing less.” 

Joel and your dad seemed a little more like the friends they’d started out as after that, laughing and talking and watching football. When the two of you left for home, your father and mother walked you out, containers of leftovers in hand. 

“It was so good to see you both,” your mom smiled, giving you a squeeze. “We’ll have to do this again. Soon.” 

“We will,” you kissed her cheek before turning to your dad. “It’ll be nice.” 

“It will,” he said before looking to Joel and holding out his hand. “Welcome to the family.” 

Joel smiled a little, taking his hand and shaking it. 

“Thanks for letting me in it.” 

You smiled the whole drive home, Joel’s hand on your knee. 

“So,” he said, looking at you conspiratorially as he pulled into the drive way. “Think the family will be even bigger next Thanksgiving?” 

“I sure hope so,” you smiled. “But I think we’ll have fun trying either way.” 

“Think we should try again now?” He asked, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles. “Because, you know… if you’re ovulating, should probably do it again. Seems like the smart move.” 

You laughed, already adding pregnancy tests to your mental shopping list.

“Well we can’t start out our lives as parents doing the dumb thing,” you said and he laughed before the two of you went inside to try again to grow your family.

[erinwantstowrite]

bear with me here because i'm gonna ramble about something i've been thinking about for a while... and i'm not complaining, i'm just noticing

sometimes i think we've leaned so far into the vigilante side of the batfam that we miss out on what really makes their characters: detective work. we need more mysteries in their lives that don't lead up to some big bad "we already know who's doing it" or an "end of the world" or "yet again: this fucking guy." we need more stuff where spy movie music plays in the background and dumb adventures that don't lead up to some huge grand event with a big name villain. the shock factor stops being shocking or interesting in any capacity if we're like "Gah! the Joker! ... Again!" or whatever

does that even make sense? like "yeah sure they're blowing up a building again and there's hostages. oh look they're gonna poison the water supply." these aren't bad and that's not what i'm getting at because obviously this is a classic for comics. you need to have characters/antagonists that show up more than once and who can make a story better by being in it. and i did say to bear with me- that's because im tired. so like i hope im getting this across the right way? it's just that sometimes i don't wanna see a huge explosion, i want these motherfuckers solving a regular murder or a disappearance or regular corruption in a local office without it being tied to a grand reveal like "actually this person knows you as a long lost relative" or "they were at that circus can you guess which night they went?" that kind of thing? if you get me? like... more of the small time stuff makes the big stuff important, it makes it stand out more. at some point, the format gets repetitive even if you're switching up the villains. you can make these situations/mysteries still fun to solve for the characters and fun to read for the audience if you do it right

the concept of a detective dressed as a bat and having a sidekick in traffic light colors is inherently goofy as hell??? but that is what is so charming about it??? i think we have lost the balance between them being silly while also being intelligent with important conversations that criticize the world as we see it and teach lessons and can go over dark topics. nowadays it's always end of the world problems or just straight up the most gruesome true crime you can think of?? or they can ONLY do the dark stuff and the criticism without offering a balance of the good in the world. or we keep coming back to the FUCKING JOKER-

like yes they are vigilantes and with that comes a different level of their work, but their brand should be a mix between a black and white detective film that can get very nitty gritty and a classic spy movie, that kind of thing. at the end of the day, it's what makes them so different from the superheroes. that's what appeals to me.

seeing them in the big superhero groups is fun, don't get me wrong. it's always funny to see them standing next to people who are so powerful they never really fit in with anyone but each other, who chose to step up and use their powers for good. the Bats' specialty is Gotham and yet here they are stopping a god or whatever. and they do stop the god or whatever, all the while being an important leader and strategist to their teammates. they're important to have in these cases. but if there's a world ending event every time i pick something up, it's not as fun

the fact that they are so very human and not fantastical is why i like reading them. it's what makes the joke of people, even Gotham citizens, theorizing about them being cryptids, funny. they're fucking weird but that's because they're detectives. people who love to solve mysteries usually have a fatal flaw of curiosity. they forget the bounds between social interactions sometimes because they're used to working through problems or being intertwined with partners that understand them. but they're very much human. so human that it hurts them in many ways. and idk i've just been thinking about it lately and idk what point i'm trying to get across actually

it's just that in my eyes that's how it really is for Batman- a black and white movie narrated by a very serious man who took up a job to help people, one that has a deeper commentary on the world and viewed outwardly as pessimistic but actually has a deep hope for his city and who tries to help even the people who have wronged others. He's a stationary man in the belief that him being a constant can serve to soothe others and help them move forward. He stays in the middle of the path so he can tell everyone what is up ahead. he blends into the Gotham rainy night to serve justice but in a way that saves both the victim and the perpetrator. (the way he tucks a Robin into his cape is the same he does for Gotham with his mere presence.) and his background is actually so important to his story and yet people still somehow gloss over the lesson from it? he lost his parents because of a man who was on the opposite end of the spectrum to where he was in life. and yet he chose to help the people like the man that killed his parents. he could have done anything else with his power and money, but he instead is choosing to bring as many people up with him as he can. He's Mr. Serious that no one else can get a read on. and yet he walks into a room and he's already piecing together your life and what you're going through because he thinks it matters. he comforts people who have lost something or someone or themselves. I picture Batman and I don't picture a man trying to save the world, I picture a detective walking around a crime scene and trying to save at least one person every time he puts on the cape. and he put on the cape and became a vigilante because then he could go out of the bounds of what laws have been set up- and specifically, Gotham has other people in power who are corrupt, keeping the system that way. that's why Batman being a billionare and throwing himself into helping people at the risk of his own life is so important. he knows that if you are alive, you have something or someone to lose, no matter who you are. the dude is a bleeding heart but he doesn't know how to express it, in fear that if he gets too close, if he moves down the path with them, he'll be lost again

and then he's met with someone who should be a complete opposite, but isn't at all, because they're two sides of the same coin. his partner in crime, his son, a boy that is nothing like the black and white world that he sees. and that's the point in his life where he first sees that potentially getting lost is worth the risk. Robin is color and passion that needs guidance to move forward, but can not do so unless the stationary man learns to move with him. the kid is loud and reckless and you'd think he's from a different genre from the detective but they aren't so different, really. not when you look close enough. Dick grew up moving from place to place and seeing the world, knowing so many different people from different cultures. He's been learning to fly and jump and embrace the free fall his entire life. He's clever and he's sharp, and he thrives in the action and adventure. it's that perspective that compliments the stationary man. one is steady and the other pushes. he's the same genre but a different generation. and Batman introducing him to the way of life he chose for himself was another way he could save someone. because let's be real for a second? Dick would have gone down a very dark path had he not had Bruce, who understood, who saw not just himself in the kid but also saw who the kid has been his entire life until now. he saw Dick's parents, he saw the family he had in the circus, he saw the joy he had in what his family was doing. he saw the grief and the fire and the color that Dick's world was made of. because to Bruce, it always matters. Dick had to come to terms with Bruce's perspective to help anyone who they come across, to always give more chances, and it kept Dick from losing his color

what gets me is that the man who lives in the black and white world can actually see many different shades of gray (because black and white always needs the medium), whereas the boy in a world of color and light can get so focused on the bright that he can become single minded. and yet the boy sees a world of color and delves deeper into the lives of the peolle they come across and can be much more open minded, and the man in the black and white world sometimes forgets the shades of grey are right there. they are just like each other. they can exist without the other, but do they want to? because the black and white can be built up into the colored image, like the inking and shadows drawn on a comic book page before the colors are added in. they meet in the middle to complete each other. Bruce has been passing the story over to the next generation for a long, long time, even before his story was complete. and just like with the first Robin, it was so for every Robin afterwards. they each color in the lines differently, but that's what makes Robin so special, so unique. they are an art style that branches into their own life, but can not forget where they started: tucked into Batman's cape and the inky black of his world

and so detective work really frames their hunanity to me. the mysteries they get their hands on, the glimpses into the lives of Gotham citizens that they swore to protect, it's fascinating. it's what makes their story stand out compared to the people who can lift trucks or cast spells or run around the world in seconds. so yeah ig that's what i'm trying to say? that i want to read more of that? in both canon and fanon. cause even the small time villains we see can be like. AWFUL people and it takes out the fun of their gimmicks. and if it were any other day this would be a more coherent post but alas, it is not any other day

[slightly-knot-insane]

A Little Bit Rusty [part 2]

[ m!monster x fem!reader ]

a/n: continuation of this short drabble, now with more plot, hehe. also, i imagined this monster as some kind of dinosaur hybrid, but i'll still keep it vague enough for readers to imagine whatever they like ^^ content: nsfw, some steamy moments with clothes on, fingering

You left his apartment before he woke up, figuring it will be less awkward than to have breakfast together and spend the morning in silence avoiding each other's gaze. The night was so good, though, you think as you enter the museum, your workplace.

It's hard to focus on paperwork you left unfinished yesterday in order to have fun with your co-worker, aka supervisor, aka mentor. It's very hard not to think about his long monstrous tongue or his teeth biting your inner thighs.

"Good morning..." You jolt up immediately recognizing your mentor's voice. You didn't notice when he entered the office. He is standing a few steps away from you, like you have a disease. "Are you... okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" You are truly surprised with his question. Last night was fantastic.

He suddenly stands with his back straighter than before - if that's even possible. "R-right. Good to know." And then basically runs away.

Maybe he didn't have such a good time? He sure didn't act unsatisfied. You chuckle looking at him trip over his own legs.

It's a busy day, Saturday, and the museum is full of people. You both have tours to lead, but since you only started working, you are mostly free or assisting him.

You actually love listening to him, since he's very eloquent when talking about archaeological findings, especially about bones. He is especially charming with kids and can make them laugh easily. But as soon as he lays his eyes on you, he blushes or stutters. It's so entertaining seeing him flustered you can't help but on purposely make his job even harder.

You shorten your skirt, pull your blouse down to expose your bosom, and tighten the belt around your waist to accentuate your curves even more. When he sees you the next time, his jaw drops like a malfunctioning lid. Luckily, his group is enjoying some free time exploring the science room so he has time to quickly approach you.

"You, um..." he tries to form words, ask you something very polite probably, but you bite your lip and his pupils dangerously dilate.

He pushes you behind 'staff only' little door in the next room and shoves your body against the wall. It is so cramped in there and you can't move - not that you want to. This 'rusty old man' how he called himself, is all but out of practice, and you get wet just thinking about what he could do to you right now.

"I'm not blind," he growls and pushes his clawed hand into your hair pulling your head backwards. He licks your neck along your jugular. "You're toying with me."

"You think?" your sarcastic remark is cut short by his hand sliding between your thick thighs and lightly touching your mons pubis.

"Why did you leave this morning?" he asks you but doesn't let you answer because he pushes his tongue inside your mouth. All you can do is moan and suck. "Why?" he repeats letting you catch your breath.

"I-I'm not sure," you reply, mind hazy, "I wanted us to think about everything, I guess. Analyze things."

"I see," he hums as his finger slithers inside your panties and rubs your lewdness while his other hand grips your hips. "I recon we're both done thinking."

He pulls his finger out and licks it with the tip of his tongue. Your pussy throbs.

"We should get back to work," he says, blushing again, returning to his old flustered self... and kisses his wet finger before exiting the storage room with a naughty wink.

[ third part coming soon! ]

[jasvtsc]

dean winchester x angel!reader — family feud.

warnings! mentions of drugs, violence, abuse, bad parenting, neglect, john winchester, mary winchester, implied prostitution, fem!reader

word count! 1.5k

you didn’t hate.

sure, you disliked some things more than the others. but hate? that was a strong word.

however, when it came to john and mary winchester?

you fucking despised these two to the point it made you want to hurl.

and that’s a lot, coming from an angel. leaves some space to think about things, y’know?

anyway.

john and mary ‘the worst parents of the century’ winchester.

you could write the whole bible on their parental mistakes and how they both neglected their children, basically scarring them with lifelong traumas—especially dean.

of course, you didn’t want to belittle sam and his trauma, since he got the fair share of john’s bullshit himself. but dean was the one who had to step up and be both a father and a mother while only being a kid. and that’s not fair—for both of them.

dean was the one starving himself, so sammy had food, since john forgot about his kids or took too long on some hunt. he was the one who earned money in ways that were more shameful than one could’ve imagined. he was the one getting roofied and…

yeah, you were livid.

and you didn’t even get that from the brothers themselves. before coming to earth you got a solid debrief of what you were getting into. and that meant knowing about the shit they went through from a to z. that was probably the main reason why you were so nice to them instead of acting like a complete jackass like most of your feathery siblings.

you had compassion that some of them massively lacked. you were the literal example of an angel supposed to help humanity and heal troubled souls. you were the epitome of purity and goodness.

but to older winchesters? yeah, you were a little bitch.

ever since they came back to life—a family thing apparently—trying to redeem their mistakes and be this happy and loving family, there wouldn’t be a minute without you sending daggers with your glare or scoffing at every word that left their mouths.

not only did they break the rules of the living and undead (sam and dean didn’t count), but they acted as if they didn’t do anything wrong. as if they could make up for their mistakes. well, too fucking late for that.

you simply couldn’t watch them together nor could you understand why they forgave them so easily. why did dean forgive them. you were baffled, but for the first time, you didn’t feel like asking questions.

no, you were having too much pent-up anger that you began slowly turning into castiel. not that it was bad, but considering your usually bubbly and happy personality now so doom and stern? yeah, it was concerning. especially for dean.

but when he tried to confront you, you brushed it off and disappeared. just like cas. and you were disappearing more often, without telling anyone and god knows where. and dean began to think what had he done to upset you to the point where you couldn’t even stand being in the same room as he was. cause he was always ready to blame himself first.

he sighed, sitting in the library, sipping a beer while mindlessly staring at the wall. he was debating whether to start praying so you’d come, but then his father entered the room, startling him out of his thoughts. john put a hand on his shoulder, making him jump up in his seat and visibly tense up—a response that a true soldier should have. what a fucking bullshit, just another trauma response.

“come on, son. stop brooding over that angel. you know how they are. they don’t give a shit. we’re just humans for them. toys they can play with and then dispose of as soon as we’re old and cranky and without much use. they’re immortal. they’re getting bored quickly,” john sighed with a small chuckle, patting his son’s shoulder, which only made him flinch more.

“you don’t know her. she’s not like that,” dean muttered, rubbing his chin. you weren’t like that…right?

of course you weren’t. why did he even think that? you were his whole world, and he pretty much thought that he was yours. you weren’t like other angels—you were actually angelic and pure and all the other schmancy shit. but yeah, no, you weren’t like that, and his dad was fucking wrong.

“she’s an angel. a supernatural creature. that says enough. they shouldn’t be here anyway. their place is up there where they can be all high and mighty with those pretentious stares.”

“she’s not like that,” dean said more sternly this time, his voice strong and leaving no place for a discussion. you were his little birdie, and he wouldn’t let anyone badmouth you. not even his own father.

“you’re defending her now?” john scoffed in amusement, looking at his son in disbelief. “you’ve gotten soft,” he hummed.

“and? is it so bad now? i’m sorry to disappoint you. again,” dean stood up, ready to leave, when his father grabbed his arm and looked at him with those eyes that dean knew too well—those eyes that meant he was about to get his ass beat.

“don’t be a brat now. show your father some respect. i don’t think i taught you to run your mouth—" dean swallowed thickly, preparing himself to get a blow to his face or at least try to dodge it, perhaps.

however, before john could finish, suddenly his hand on dean’s arm was yanked away and painfully bent backwards as if it was going to break any moment, the angel blade pressed dangerously to an artery in his throat.

“touch him again and i’ll make sure to drag your ass to hell myself, you fucking deadbeat,” you hissed with so much venom and hatred in your voice that it honestly made dean speechless.

you had the deadliest expression dean had ever seen on your face. he felt goosebumps on the back of his neck, suddenly feeling as if he was frozen in place. to be honest, you looked pretty scary and intimidating for such a small and inconspicuous creature.

“oh, look who’s back from heaven,” john chuckled darkly, clearly pissed off by your presence. “tell her to back off,” he almost growled while shifting his eyes from you back to his son.

dean stood still. honestly? he didn’t want to help. he wanted to let you do your thing. he wanted you to protect him.

but it was his father. and he felt that he couldn’t just let him be treated by you like that.

“birdie, come on. drop it,” he sighed, coming closer and wrapping his arms around you, gently pulling you back. he knew you wouldn’t protest, and you knew that as well—you’d never hurt dean or even try to do something that would possibly hurt him. you’d probably cut your own wings off if he got even the smallest bruise because of you. “relax, okay. don’t do anything stupid, birdie,” he rubbed your arm, trying to calm you down.

with a huff, you turned around and looked at dean. “i don’t like him. and i don’t like your mother. these people are weird and had hurt you and i don’t trust them,” you hissed, keeping your voice a whisper so john wouldn’t hear as he tried to scramble himself up from the floor.

“birdie, they’re my parents. i—” but he cut off and raised his brow. “how do you even know what happened? i never tol—”

“angel stuff. doesn’t matter. i just don’t like it when you’re hurt and upset and feeling sad. and these two make you upset, sad and hurt!“ you tried to resonate. “i just want you to be happy. i can’t give you your childhood back nor i can undid every awful thing that happened to you. but i can try my best to make it better and give you what you missed out on. if you want to feel childish for a minute, we can do that together. i’m already considered to be one apparently,” you huffed with a small eye-roll.

and dean was speechless. he looked at you in disbelief, and all the other feelings that he couldn’t quite name. he felt his heart squeeze painfully in his chest, tears gathering up in his eyes. he tried to say something, to think of something, when john’s mocking chuckle echoed through the walls.

“are you kidding me? crying? what kind of soldier—” before he got a chance to finish, you sent him on the floor with a solid sucker punch to his face. john groaned and blinked hazily before losing consciousness.

you shook your hand with a small huff and then looked at wide-eyed dean.

“i’m not going to apologize for that,” you said in that direct and indifferent tone, pointing at john’s unresponsive body.

dean just blinked and then looked at you, his expression slowly softening. he smiled at you and pulled you closer.

“honestly? i don’t want you to. thanks birdie,” he hummed and kissed your temple, letting his lips stay on your skin for a moment, while you leaned into his invitingly warm touch. “i love you so much, my little angel.”

“i love you, too, deano.”

god, he was so glad to have you.

a/n: i’ll drop the drabble tomorrow cause i didn’t think i’d finish this shot faster lol😭

༄♡ tags: @frosttbitessam @beausling @deanswidow @titsout4nicholas @a1ecmcdowell @aileenunfiltered @figthoughts @fitxgrld @angelicp0etry @hrtsoldierboy @deansbite @artyandink @10ava01 @abellmunsonmovie

[sugdenlovesdingle]

If you’re still taking prompts, Tommy spending time with Maddie?

Oh I like this!

----

"At least this time it was planned." Maddie offered

"Yeah... And the nurse did say everything is going according to plan earlier."

"But you still worry."

"Yeah." Tommy chuckled. "I convinced him to get it done now so he'd be back on his feet by the time the little one starts walking."

Maddie smiled and rubbed her pregnant belly.

"Yeah I think he is looking forward to meeting his family. He's about to walk right out of there in a minute. Jee wasn't this restless."

"I guess he takes after his father then. I've never known Howie to be calm and relaxed." Tommy commented "Well... off the clock at least." he added after a beat and they both laughed.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, drinking bad hospital coffee and Tommy's eyes fixed on the door.

"What about you two?" Maddie asked.

"Hmm?"

Tommy reluctantly tore his eyes away from the door and looked at her.

"One of these." she gestured at her belly.

"I don't think either of us is at risk of getting pregnant any time soon." Tommy deadpanned and laughed when Maddie slapped his bicep.

"You know what I mean. Am I going to be an aunt any time soon?"

Tommy sat up straighter and played with the lid of his coffee cup.

"We've talked about it. Marriage, kids... the whole nine yards... and we want the same things..."

"But..." Maddie prompted.

"But... not just yet." Tommy shook his head. "We've only been back together about six months. And the last time we rushed into things it didn't go so well. So one step at a time for now."

"Isn't he moving in with you when he's discharged?"

"Yeah but that's because he's going to need a lot of help. Especially the first few months. And those stairs in the loft are lethal."

"He managed before..."

"Maybe. But he doesn't have to anymore now. I have a bedroom and a bathroom on the ground floor at my place and the stairs aren't so damn steep, he can easily manage them with crutches if needed."

Suddenly the door opened and one of the doctors walked up to them.

"Evan Buckley's family?"

Tommy was on his feet in seconds.

"That's right. How is he?"

The doctor gave him a tired smile.

"The operation was a success. No complications. Straight out of the medical text books."

"So he's ok?"

"He has a long road to recovery ahead of him, but I don't see why he shouldn't make a full recovery in due time." The doctor told them. "He'll still be asleep for a while, but one of the nurses will come get you when they've gotten him settled back in, in his room and you can sit with him."

Tommy let out a sigh of relief while Maddie thanked the doctor before they left the two of them to it again.

"He's ok." Maddie said, slipping her arm through Tommy's. "He's ok."

About ten minutes later a nurse came to get them and took them to Buck's room. He was still fast asleep but apart from a pulse oximeter on his finger and a cast on his leg, he looked just like he would on a regular day at home.

Tommy sat down next to the bed and softly brushed the curls off his forehead, while Maddie sat down on the other side and held Buck's hand in hers.

"You know he always hated that?"

"Hated what?"

"His curls. People playing with them." Maddie explained. "I used to do it when he was little but when he got old enough to pick his own hairstyle, the curls were gone and everyone was forbidden to touch his hair. I think I still have some pictures of when he gave himself a haircut when he was about 12 or 13."

Tommy grinned.

"If you can still find them, I'd love to see them."

"I'll get Howie to look for them." Maddie promised. "But what I'm trying to say is... he's changed since he met you. For the better."

"I did tell him I liked the curls once... He hadn't had time to get a haircut in a while and his hair was getting longer and the curls just made him look... soft." Tommy smiled, running his hands through Buck's hair.

Maddie smiled.

"Not just the hairstyle. Or wearing clothes in his actual size instead of at least two sizes too small." She laughed. "But he's... more comfortable in his own skin. He's content. Happy in a way I've never seen him before. And that's down to you."

"I don't know about that..." Tommy ducked his head.

"I do." Maddie insisted. "You're good for him. You're good for each other."

Buck began to stir and groaned as he opened his eyes. He rolled his head to the side and smiled when he saw Tommy.

"Hey you." Tommy said and got up to press a kiss to the top of his head. "Welcome back. How are you feeling?"

"Hmokay... better when the room stops spinning... and there's only one of you. is my leg still there?" he reached out to touch his leg and then realised someone was holding his hand. He turned his head and saw his sister. "Maddie!" he said happily, like he hadn't seen her in years.

"Hi." she giggled and squeezed his hand. "They've got you on the good stuff, huh."

"They fixed my leg." he explained. "Tommy said I should do it now. For the baby." He frowned. "Not our baby." He turned his head back to the other side to look at Tommy. "You're not having a baby... right?"

Tommy bit his lip to stop himself from laughing.

"No, no I'm not. But your sister is."

Buck turned back to Maddie.

"You're having a baby?" he asked, and then noticed her pregnant belly. "You're having a baby! Wait... i-is that Tommy's baby?"

"What? No!" Maddie said and both her and Tommy burst out laughing. "I don't think I'm really his type."

"Yeah, sorry, I prefer the other Buckley." Tommy said laughingly.

Buck frowned.

"Who?"

"You." Tommy told him and softly kissed him. "I'm going to get a nurse. Let them know you're awake. I'll be right back." He got up and left the room with Buck looking at him with a dopey smile that wasn't just the anaesthetic.

"I love him." Buck declared, still looking at the door.

Maddie smiled and gave his hand another squeeze.

"I know. He loves you too."

"Yeah? Yeah!" Buck replied answering his own question. "I'm going to marry him. I have a ring." he said, just as Tommy came back in with a nurse.

"Hello mister Buckley, glad to see you awake." the nurse told him as she quickly checked him over. "The operation went well, and you should be able to go home in a few days."

Buck nodded and turned to Maddie.

"You need to call Eddie for me. He has the ring. I need it... for Tommy. I'm going to marry him."

"I'll call him." Maddie promised. sharing a look with Tommy over the bed.

"Good. I'm just... sleep..." Buck mumbled as he started to drift off again.

"He probably won't remember this conversation when he wakes up again." the nurse told them. "I'm guessing you're Eddie?" she asked Tommy who shook his head.

"I'm Tommy. And I guess I better start working on my surprised face."

---

send me a prompt and I'll write you a fic(let)!

[travelingmaster-inspirations]

"Welcome Sir..." my secretary said. "I'm ready... Willing... And eager to serve you and make your work day as pleasurable and efficient as possible."

Once the initial shock of finding my secretary kneeling half naked on my desk wore off, I smiled as I realize how effective the new company training video I developed turned out to be.

Although looking at her state of undress, one could argue that it might be a little TOO effective.

"Maybe the implanted compulsion to show her body off combined with the compulsion to dress in a way to inspire lust in her immediate superior..." I muttered to myself. "And if THAT also combined with the 'see yourself as a sexual object' suggestion... That would certainly explain this..."

"I'm sorry Sir." she said. "I'm afraid I didn't quite hear you. Is it anything I can help you with?"

"No no... Just thinking out loud..." I said, admiring her figure. "So you are eager to serve?"

"I am Sir!" she said, smiling broadly.

"You are dressed rather provocatively... Am I to assume that your eagerness to serve includes a lot more than simple clerical work?" I said as I stepped up close to the desk.

"Why else would I be dressed like this?" she said smiling coyly.

"You are huh? That's very surprising..." I said, smiling. "Especially when you consider that just last week, you stood in this very office and threatened to file an official complaint with HR if I didn't stop hitting on you."

"I'm sorry about that... Sir..." she said, visibly blushing. "I had this misguided notion that being a proper and professional secretary meant that I needed to keep business and pleasure separate."

"And now I assume you know otherwise?" I asked.

"Yes Sir! I thought you were hitting on me because you wanted to go out with me, but hat training video made it so clear that I was completely wrong." she said, smiling even as she bit her lower lip. "You were obviously within your rights and it's my fault for not understanding that being a proper secretary is all about using pleasure to boost your Boss' business performance."

Somehow, I managed not chuckle at the complete conviction in her voice as she repeated the idea my video had brainwashed into her mind.

"I'm glad you finally understand and that further more... You are willing and eager to be a proper secretary for me." I said as I took her chin, caressing her lower lip with my thumb. "Not all secretaries do and it often creates embarrassing mix ups. As well as extra work for HR."

"You don't have to worry about me creating extra work for the HR department..." she said, clearly a little aroused by my touch. "I'm very eager to serve ALL of your needs without restrictions in the hopes of being your perfect secretary."

"All of my needs huh?" I said, smiling.

"Yes Sir." she said, kissing my thumb. "All of them..."

"In that case, no reason not to take advantage of your lovely display and see how well you can fulfill my desires..." I said as I removed my hand. "After all, we still have time before our lunch break ends. So be a dear and go lock the door before you get yourself out of those stunning garments..."

"Right away Sir!" she said excitedly as she got off my desk.

I knew the training video probably had it's flaws, but for now, it looked like it worked marvelously well and I as I watched her incredible form slip out of her bra and panties, I couldn't wait to start tweaking the program to see how much more I could brainwash her...

Faye Reagan