#and I feel stupid for being a little upset

[luveline]

carmy! i have a request, it’s so basic but everything you write is golden. him and r are pining coworkers, and maybe someone else yells at her or upsets her or whatever and he’s like but i’m the only one allowed to shout at you and he hugs her (because you know… arms 👀)

—Carmy tries to make you feel better after a customer upsets you. fem, 1.5k 

“Fucking asshole,” Richie mutters as the door swings closed. 

Carmy would cringe if he had the energy, or a lack of self-awareness —it’s not as though he doesn’t swear like a starved sailor every other sentence. 

“Who’s the asshole?” he asks, feeling down his side for the bump of a box of cigarettes he doesn’t find. 

He’s taken to hiding them in the office. He’d love to pretend it was an act of lent, but in actuality, he never told Ritchie that the box of cigarettes left near the burner, that gave them their C-army rating, wasn’t Richie’s at all, but Carmy’s. He isn’t ever planning on having that conversation, so he’s trying not to carry a box around and leave it somewhere stupid again. 

“Fucking– you didn’t just hear that guy?” Richie asks, scowling. 

Carmy scowls back. “Yeah, that’s why I’m asking. What the fuck do you think?” 

It’s slightly too much aggression off the cuff, but Richie brings it out of him. “Some asshole just came in here and started shouting like a motherfucker because he forgot his stupid napkins. I thought Sunshine was gonna cry her eyes out.” 

Carmy clocks back in fully. “What?” 

Sunshine is the mildly sarcastic nickname Richie gave you before Carmy ever step foot in The Beef. It’s not that you’re moody, but you’re always tired, and you give these little shy smiles out to anyone who asks how you are. I’m fine, you say every time, followed by something deflective like, I’m just tired. Lack of vitamin D from working in this place. 

“Where do scumbags get off, making girls cry like that?” 

Carmy's eyes widen. “She’s crying?” 

Richie is capable of seriousness, despite himself. “Yeah,” he says, his anger swapped out for a low remorse, “I told her to go sit in the office until she’s feeling better.” 

Carmy pauses. “Should I go look in?” he asks. 

“Duh, Carmen. You’re the only one who can make her feel better. Which I resent!” He brings a rag end from his shoulder to wipe his forehead, which is gross, but whatever. “I’m fucking excellent at being a shoulder to cry on.” 

Carmy doesn’t know what that means. Richie says it like it’s obvious, but since when is Carmy the only person who can make you feel better? You’ve known everybody here far longer than you’ve known him, and sometimes Carmy thinks you probably don’t want a thing to do with him, does anybody in the kitchen? You’re smart, and you’ve been working here as long as anybody, started when you were genuinely too young and learning everything you know from the other. You have potential, like everybody here. You just didn’t get the right training, and you’re defensive (again, like everybody here). 

Carmy’s almost positive you’re gonna tell him to fuck off when he knocks the office door. He doesn’t know why he does it, nobody knocks in this shithole, but he does. Maybe he’s buying time; you’ll be feeling better when he pushes the door fully open, and he won’t have to navigate the treacherous depths of his feelings for you while he’s so busy trying to work himself out.

You sniff, muffled, like  a sleeve is held over your face. “Hello?” you ask. 

Carmy gets a burst of energy and doesn’t ask before stepping into the room. You can’t say no if he doesn’t ask, and you don’t, looking at him from the rickety office chair with distrust, and then sheepishness. 

“Sorry, I shouldn’t be in here.” 

“No, no, you can come in here,” he says. He has a bad habit of pausing too long and looking too close, hands clenched in front of himself. “You can come in here. Some asshole made you cry?” 

You shake your head with tears still wet on your cheek. You’re at home in the office, all the chaos and posters and paper trails a match for you dishevelled appearance. You’ve pulled your foot onto the chair, showcasing a shoe that’s falling apart and two pairs of socks pulled to uneven heights. Your hands are a riot, none of your jewellery but a mismatch of different coloured band-aids over a multitude of wounds. And your face glows with tears, shitty light of the desk lamp casting yellow onto your teary cheeks, your lips bitten raw. 

“I’m fine,” you say. 

Carmy doesn’t know what he was expecting, but he was hoping for a better confession. “Over napkins?” 

“Said I’m s’posed to put napkins in the bag,” you say, a monotony to your voice that’s forced and weak at once. “‘Cos I’m a fucking idiot, right, who doesn’t put napkins in the bag?” You sniffle. “Whatever. Richie said he can’t come back.” 

“He can’t,” Carmy says quickly. 

He fails to follow it up. There’s an idiot in the office, for sure, and it’s not you. 

Your mouth crumples and you look away from him, something achy about you as another tear falls down your cheek to curve into the skin above your top lip, making a home at your cupid’s bow. “I’m fine.” 

“You can be upset,” he says. “This job’s… hard enough, without people making you feel like shit for shit you didn’t do.”

You respond to his warm(ish) tone with a small smile. Your tear slips down your lip. Carmy wants to wipe it off. 

“What can I do?” he asks finally.

He wishes he could make you feel better without asking, and there are parts of him that want to turn tail and run, too, but Carmy stays standing in front of the half-open door watching as tears make their way to your chin. He doesn’t know why you’re still crying. 

Maybe he does. Carmy doesn’t usually cry. He just watches things go wrong without stopping them, or keels over in the alley for long, too fast minutes as his heart pumps a bruising rhythm against his ribs. 

“I’m fine, Carmy,” you say, wiping your face roughly as you stand from the chair.  

He scratches a hand through his hair. “Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.” 

“You don’t have to anything.” 

“Richie said I’m the only person who can make you feel better.” 

“You’re just the only guy who ever shouts at me,” you tease, sniffling softly as you do. 

Carmy shouldn’t yell at anyone, but he does. You’ve never cried. He wouldn’t yell at anybody if he thought it would make them upset like that, it’s just that yelling’s like talking where he comes from, and the kitchen doesn’t help. 

“So what? Am I supposed to beat that guy up?” Carmy asks. 

You laugh through what he hopes to be the last of your tears, scrubbing at your cheeks ineffectually. “Like you could beat somebody up. You’re all bark and no bite, Berzatto.” 

Sure. And he’s a loser, he’s more than aware of it; Carmy knows fifty seven different ways to prepare corn for eating and he doesn’t know a single way to make girls feel better, so he tries something he saw on TV. 

“Come here,” he says, holding his arm out insistently. “C’mere.” 

He leans in to grab you. You hold your arms out, but you still when he touches you like you're shocked. He’s a little shocked too. 

“Richie knew the guy, right?” Carmy asks. 

“He said he’s banned for life.” 

“Okay, great.” Carmy feels up your back slowly. Your arms are hesitant behind him. He’s the braver one for once, feeling at the dips and slopes of you with a greedy hand.

You smell… really good. He has a good sense of smell, can pick apart a meal's ingredients by scent alone if he’s awake enough, so he can tell you’re wearing that little solid perfume you keep in your cubby, gentle enough to not bother anybody in the kitchen, ever so slightly milky and sweet. He can also smell the salt on your cheeks. So weird to be able to smell your tears. 

Carmy pats your back and leans away. Your hands fall to your side. 

He wipes your face hesitantly, pinky to your soft cheek, until your tear stains are dry and you’re looking at him steadily.

“That was really weird,” you say. 

He panics, stepping away from you, “Fuck. Fuck, sorry.” 

You shake your head. “No, I’m just kidding. Thanks, Carmy.” 

“Dick,” he says. 

You smile brightly. Okay, his heart fell into his ass when you said it was weird, but you can tease him all day if it makes you feel better. 

“I better go tell Richie I’m okay,” you say. “Don’t you have a stock to reduce?” 

“Oh, you mean your stock?” he asks. 

Your smile makes him wanna grab your wrist, and it makes him wanna chase after you. You slink out of the office, waving a quick goodbye with your fingers, and Carmy stares at the place you’d been sitting while you cried for a couple of seconds to get a grip.  

He puts his hand on his chest and feels his pulse racing. 

“Fucking asshole,” he mutters, not sure if he means the customer or himself.

[lilypadthaii]

idiot | suna rintarō

suna rintaro x reader :3 wc: 2.7k

tropes: unrequited love, childhood friends to lovers, kinda oblivious reader a/n: sunas probably ooc, i cant write nonchalant men srry. also NOT proofread so sorry if there r mistakes :p

you first met suna when you were both just 7 years old. you were introduced to him by the twins, who happened to be your neighbors at the time. 

the interaction didn’t feel like it was anything out of the ordinary, but looking back on it, maybe it was the start of it all. 

“hi! my name’s y/n l/n! i’ve heard a lot about you from tsumu and samu! let’s be good friends from now on, ‘kay?” 

what could he possibly do but accept? there was no way he could reject you, not with the toothy grin you flashed at him and the tight hug you enveloped him in right after. 

that was how he first got pulled into your orbit. 

from that point on, you, him, and the twins were practically inseparable. you went on adventures together everyday, catching bugs, riding your bikes, playing pranks on your parents, etc. 

while most of the time, it seemed as though he was just being dragged along, he couldn’t deny that he had fun. 

even though the twins were as annoying as ever, he didn’t actually mind you. he didn’t mind getting sneak attacked by your snowballs when it snowed in the winter, and he didn’t mind listening to you sing loudly and out of tune into the fan during the summer. 

to say the least, he found you bearable. 

he began noticing a change when he was 13, at the start of a new school year. the four of you hung out frequently, almost everyday during school hours and afterschool. yet, something had changed about the dynamic of this friend group that he couldn’t quite place.

maybe it was the way your gaze would linger on atsumu’s for longer than usual. maybe it was the way atsumu would trip over his words when you showed up. maybe it was the way it seemed like you and atsumu were slowly drifting away from him and osamu into you two’s own little world. maybe, just maybe, it was the way what used to be plans that were shared by the four of you became one on one hangouts between you and atsumu.

perhaps that’s why it didn’t shock him when you two announced that you were dating just a few weeks later. 

he couldn’t blame you for falling for him. after all, atsumu was charming, funny, talented, and treated you well. why wouldn’t you?

unfortunately, this fact didn’t stop the uneasy feeling that settled in his chest for weeks after. 

he passed it off as a side effect of the summer heat. 

when you were 15, you were arguing with atsumu almost everyday. most of the time it was just stupid stuff, like him being late to a date or leaving you on read. when he got more invested in volleyball, however, he began spending less and less time with you.

the arguments only got worse and worse. at some point, suna was sure you two were going to break up, but you never did.

one summer night, you two were eating ice cream at local convenience store. it was like any other conversation of you two’s at the time: you complaining about atsumu and him quietly listening. 

“what should i do, rin? he’s so frustrating… it doesn’t even seem like he’s wants to be with me anymore! all he ever talks about volleyball… i mean, does he even like ME anymore? maybe he’s just too busy for a relationship.”

he stared at the moon as he listened to you ramble. it was strangely beautiful tonight. he wanted to take out his phone and snap a picture, but he knew you’d get upset. 

“why don’t you just break up with him?”

he had interrupted you abruptly, so he expected you to reprimand him. instead, you went completely silent.

he turned to look at you, expecting an answer, but was surprised by what he saw. 

you were covering your face with your hands, but there was no way he could mistake the tears welling up in your eyes for anything else.

“i know, i mean, i’ve considered it so many times. i’m an idiot, i know, but i,” you blubbered, hiccupping as you spoke, “i don’t want to leave him.”

it was silent for a few seconds, and when you looked up at him, he was watching you carefully. 

“why?”

you looked down again and swallowed before replying. “because i love him, suna. i love him so much, i can’t imagine being without him. i know it might just be because i’m young and stupid, but i don’t want to give up on us.”

you were slightly startled by the comforting touch of his head on your head, patting you as if you were a pet. 

“things will work out. atsumu loves you too, he’s just an idiot. don’t doubt yourself, dumbass.”

you choked out a laugh as you wiped your tears. 

“thanks, rin. i’m so glad you’re my best friend.”

you gave him your signature toothy grin, and his heart did the thing, just as it always did when you smiled at him, and just as he always would, he’d brush it off as him being sick. man, he really needed to get this heart problem checked out.

even as you continued your rant about your incompetent boyfriend, suna wondered how, even with your puffy eyes and red nose, you managed to look like that. how the moonlight perfectly traced your features, as if gently kissing every aspect of your face.  

perhaps he’d known it for a while, but was in denial, that he felt something for you that a best friend shouldn’t. but what could he do? 

you were in love with atsumu, and this was an absolute. a fact of life, just like how humans needed air to live and the sky was blue. 

when you were 17, your relationship had gotten past the arguing stage and was relatively stable. you went every game of inarizaki’s that you could, cheering for them from the sidelines.

there was one particular game that stuck with suna. it was a victory in a difficult game against karasuno. 

after the game, he saw you running up to him, and spread his arms, ready to receive your hug. 

but it wasn’t him you were running to. it was atsumu. it wasn’t his hug to receive. it was atsumu’s. you ran past him, jumping into atsumu’s arms, and he spun you around as you congratulated him with kisses. 

he’d remember that moment forever, because it’d serve as a reminder that it would never be him, and that he shouldn’t ever get his hopes up.

when he was 18, he received a text from you that would end your 11 year friendship. you two had been distant for a while, so it shouldn’t have been too surprising. 

“hey, suna. we’ve been friends for so long, and it breaks my heart to do this to us, but i don’t think we should be friends anymore. atsumu doesn’t want me being too close to any guys, which is understandable, so i think it’s only right of me to do this. i’m sorry, and i wish you the best. i hope you’ll remember me as your best best friend :)”

he considered calling you, but stopped himself. what did he want from you? an explanation? you’d already given him one. there wasn’t anything he could do. 

he buried himself in volleyball to force himself to forget you, what you two had, or rather, what he had for you. it worked, for a while, until he received a sudden call from an unknown number on his 22nd birthday. 

he was out with his team, getting drinks at a bar. he probably would’ve declined, if not for the gut feeling that rose in his stomach when he saw the number. so he stepped out and answered.

“hello? ri- oops, suna, is that you?”

he swore he felt his heart rate accelerate as soon as he heard your voice through the speaker. 

“yeah, it’s me. is this y/n?” you’d gotten a new number, he noted. 

“yes, i know, this is sudden and weird, and i don’t want to intrude, but i know it’s your birthday, so i just wanted to say happy birthday. i hope you’re doing well. i know it’s not my place to say this, so i’m sorry-“

you were rambling, just as you always did when you were stressed or nervous. it made him a little happy, knowing you hadn’t changed.

“it’s okay,” he interrupted, “thank you for that. i’m doing well. how are you?”

he’d spend the next hour on the phone with you, catching up on your lives, until one of his teammates popped his head out of the restaurant and asked if he was coming back in.

“i’m definitely ruining your birthday night huh? i’m so sorry, i’ll let you get back to that. but, if it’s okay, would you like to meet up sometime? i’ll text you, if it’s okay?”

“yeah, sure.”

“happy birthday, rin!” was all he heard before you hung up. the nickname gave him a rush of nostalgia, one that warmed his insides.

he went back inside the bar with a stupid grin on his face that he couldn’t wipe off, one that would get him teased by his teammates for the rest of the night.

a week later, he finds himself in a cozy cafe near his house that he never knew existed, pretending to browse the weather app on his phone as he waits. 

he’s so nervous he doesn’t even notice you until you sit down directly in front of him, setting down your bag with dozens of clinking keychains attached. 

you laugh as you see him visibly startle. “it’s just me, suna. sorry i’m a little late. how long’ve you been waiting for?”

“just a few minutes, don’t worry.”

he pauses to take in your appearance. you’re as beautiful as ever. you seem more mature now (how stupid, you’re both adults now after all), but he can still see glimpses of your much younger self in the smile you give him. 

he snaps himself out of his trance when you speak up, “i know all i’ve been doing since we started talking again is apologizing, but i’m genuinely sorry, suna. i shouldn’t have done that to you. i threw away our friendship like it was nothing. i told myself it was for the better, that atsumu needed me, and i wanted to be the best girlfriend for him. but i’ve since realized how naive i was.” you pause, thinking back to your nearly ten year relationship. he sees something in your eyes he didn’t when you two were together, and suna can’t stop himself from asking. 

“are you two… still together?” 

you can almost laugh at how hesitant he sounds, like he’s trying not to step on a landmine. 

“no, we’re not. we broke up a year ago, and i’ve realized it was for the better.” when you see his questioning gaze, you continue, “i feel like most of our relationship, i was basically living for him. i centered my life around him. i lost friends and hobbies all for a guy who i know now cares more about volleyball than he could about anybody. i’m the biggest idiot in the world.” 

you feel the tears coming back to you, but you force them down. you’re here to apologize, not to make an even bigger fool of yourself.

“you’re not an idiot, y/n. you found something great, and you just wanted to treasure it. it’s his fault he couldn’t appreciate that.”

as he says this, he gives you an adoring smile, as if saying he thinks you’ve hung the moon and stars, and you feel your heart swoon a little at the sight. 

“do you.. accept my apology? i know we might not be able to go back to the way we were before, but can we at least be friends again? as selfish as this may seem, i miss what we had, suna.”

“i’m sorry, i don’t think i can do that, y/n.”

a feeling of dejection washes you, but you do your best to quickly brush it off. 

“i understand. again, i’m sorry. i’m glad we had the chance to catch up, though. i should leave now-“

“you misunderstood. i can’t be just friends with you. the reason i wanted to catch up with you wasn’t so we could just be friends.”

the next words he says are the exact ones you never thought he’d say, let alone to you.

“i like you. no, i’m in love with you. it took a while to come to terms with, but i’ve been in love with you since we first became best friends. i thought i’d be able to act normal after seeing you again, that the feeling would fade, but it hasn’t. in fact, it’s only gotten stronger.”

suna thought he’d have trouble saying it, but as soon as it started, the words came out naturally, likely because the feelings he felt for you came just as naturally to him.

“now, if we’re going to be friends, i want it to be with the intention of becoming lovers in the future. i know you’re still getting over him, and you’re not ready, but if you ever think you are and you want to give me a chance, i’m right here.”

“i always have been,” he adds.

you’re speechless, and you swear you feel like your heart is pumping at 200 mph. you’d be lying if you said before you began dating atsumu, you’d never seen him as a potential partner, but that was so long ago and you were just a kid.

“oh. i’m- what? sorry, i’m just really surprised. i don’t know what to say, suna.”

“that’s alright. i’m not expecting anything right now, but in the future, if you’re looking for something, let me be the first option, yeah?”

that night, he feels like a heavy weight has been lifted off his heart. he goes to sleep thinking about how pretty you looked in the cafe.

a couple months later, you two go on your first ever date. it’s a picnic by the river near your house, and it just so happens to be on the day of a lantern festival. you both make wishes as you light your lanterns and set them into the water. he makes a quick wish that your wish will come true, and after he watches as you intently make yours. you look so cute, he can’t help but snap a picture. he should make that his lock screen, he decides.

he asks you out officially just a few months later. it happens during a romantic, candlelit dinner at his house. you’re a little drunk from the wine, so you start crying about how considerate he is and how much you like him, pulling him into a tight hug. he can’t wipe the stupid smile off his face as he comforts you.

one unsuspecting weekend, suna announces that he’ll be flying you out to one of his official volleyball games. it’s sudden, but you want to support him, so you don’t put up a fight. you’re sitting on the bleachers before the game begins, and it’s so crowded you can barely hear, but there’s no mistaking the way the announcer calls your name. you look at suna questioningly, and he gestures for you to come down. when you finally make it down onto the court, all his teammates are standing off to the side. as you get closer to suna, he smiles, and it’s so bright that you can’t help but smile back. 

he then gets down on one knee, and you swear your heart almost explodes on the spot. before he can finish his question, you jump on him, enveloping him in a hug that ends up with you on top of him on the ground. as the tears well up in your eyes, you watch as he slides the ring on your finger intently, and you realize you must have been an idiot to not notice him all this time.

divider source: cafekitsune!!

[pensbridge]

Do people really think that Colin means what he says? I can't; I have no words.

I was kind of saying this in a post before it premiered: Colin's words to Penelope are not about her. They all lead back to his insecurities.

Pen is trying to entrap Colin

Did you forget this happened to him before? He's A) questioning her feelings. He's also the "overlooked;" (we just went over this in part 1) he gets mocked and laughed at for not going with the status quo by people including his family. It wouldn't be far-fetched to think Penelope who he trusts so much now falls into that category. AND BECAUSE THE CARRIAGE ALSO HAPPENED BEFORE HE KNEW. AND NOW HE KNOWS SHE WROTE THAT BAD PAPER ABOUT HIM. So, to him it looks like she lied ABOUT EVERYTHING. BECAUSE IT LOOKS LIKE SHE WAS PLAYING HIM & LAUGHING ABOUT HIM IN THAT PAPER & THAT SHE LOOKS DOWN ON HIM. Also, I just wrote this in a different post, his upset in feeling "entrapped" comes from the pain of loving her and not being able to shake it. He says to Eloise, "feel lucky you have never been in love," DIRECTLY in the scene before this! Dear God, pay attention to him. He's B) Insecure Af BECAUSE THIS HAPPENED TO HIM BEFORE (thnx Marina love her tho) Can we acknowledge the trauma?

He mentions Marina (and his family).

This isn't about Marina. I'm gonna break this down real quick because I wanted to do this anyway:

He asks about the El writing, because now he's putting the pieces together of why they're not friends and is confused how she could do that to her bff that questions her true loyalty which is super important to him.

"Miss Thompson-Exposing her as you did. Ruining her." sidenote Colin can't let go of this "Thompson" (not Crane) name thing, probably because he's traumatized from the public embarrassment. BUT HE'S TALKING ABOUT HIMSELF. He was publically embarrassed (and it was repeated with the s3 paper). Even though it was directly exposing/"ruining" to Marina as a woman, he felt like he was exposed for being stupid. It affected his confidence.

Then he says "Then, you should have told me to my face," which is a small & obvious line but I feel like it's important: He's telling you that the public embarrassment is the part that makes him upset. "Or do you not respect me enough?" ding, ding, ding! His big problem with her doing this. She talked bad about him behind his back (literally in the s3 paper, and indirectly in the Marina issue). He's like: you must think I'm dumb, then...[which leads into the jealousy-She's an accomplished author. He feels inadequate. He has to correct this on his own, AND HE DOES!] Nonetheless, he feels like she essentially put one over on him, because she had this inside knowledge and he was clueless (Marina issue, s3 issue). another sidenote: his eyes get so much more teary at that respect line.

"It is clear you do not, after what you have written about me this year...that I hardly know myself. What were you thinking then?" Oh do you think that of me (and so little of me)?

[miley1442111]

hi ! can I request Derek Morgan x Pregnant! Reader?

Where reader is a couple days past her due date and is literally miserable and Derek’s lowkey frustrated because he’s tried every thing he can to help and he hates seeing his girl upset,

so they start looking up ways to help induce labor, and they try a few and none of them work, so reader gives up and starts to cry and Derek is there to reassure her that everything is gonna be okay,

& that he read somewhere that s*x induces labor and it’s turns into light fluffy smut?

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a/n: i love this idea, probably didn't do it justice, also my most sincere apologies for letting this rot in my inbox for so long :)

summary: derek has to do something when you're 3 days past your due date

pairings: derek morgan x fem! wife! pregnant! reader

warnings: pregnancy issues, smut (lowkey praise kink but wtv), going into labour

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It would be an understatement to say that being pregnant sucked. 

You were tired, you were achy, you couldn’t do anything, you couldn’t sleep, and you were literally 3 days past your due date, with no end in sight. 

Fuck this stupid baby, and fuck your stupid husband for getting you pregnant in the first place. 

---------------------

 You sat in your bed, miserable and in pain as Derek held you in his arms. He was annoyed. He could see how much pain you were in, and knew how much pain you’d be in soon when you had to give birth. He just… he wanted it to stop. So he looked up methods of inducing labour. 

“Apparently spicy food helps with inducing labour,” he muttered as he mindlessly rubbed his hand over your stomach. 

“I’ll try anything at this point,” you said in a small voice and Derek’s heart shattered. 

“I’ll order something,” he nodded and you offered a meek ‘thank you’. He ordered the spiciest things on your local Mexican place’s menu, and waited eagerly for its arrival. When it did come, he plated it and watched as you ate it.

Nothing. Not even a contraction. 

“Fuck’s sake,” you groaned, washing your hands after eating. “Now I just feel fucking sick.”

“I’m sorry baby,” he sighed, pulling you in to give you a soft but reassuring kiss. “The next thing on the list is physical exercise.”

That was not met with much enthusiasm, but you obliged anyway. You got on the treadmill that lives in your home-gym, and ran for 30 minutes. 

Still nothing. 

Derek watched as your frustrated face turned into the one you make before you cry, and his heart shattered a second time. “Come here baby,” he sighed and pulled you into his arms, pressing kisses to your forehead as you cried. He whispered words of reassurance and love,but you couldn’t stop crying. You were in so much pain, you were so tired, and you just wanted this baby out. You wanted to see your little girl and hold her. 

“What’s next on the list?” You asked between sobs. 

“Sex.”

You looked up at him, drying your eyes. “Sex?”

“Sex,” he nodded. “But if you’re not up to it we can-”

“Derek Morgan, this baby is coming out of me today or so help me god, I will hurt someone,” you swore. Derek nodded quickly and took your hand, leading you to your bedroom. 

“What’s safe for the baby?” You asked him timidly as he undressed you. 

“Spooning, if that’s comfortable,” he offered. He’d done so much research about how to help you, it almost made you sob all over again. Stupid pregnancy hormones. 

“That sounds nice,” you swallowed back the lump in your throat as Derek smiled at you, then pressed soft kisses to your bare collarbone.

“So pretty for me,” he cooed. “My beautiful girl.”

You both laid down on the bed as he kissed you, whispering words of encouragement. God he was so attractive like this, taking care of you, loving you. You were getting ridiculously wet.

“I’m going to be real gentle, okay?”

“Okay,” you nodded as his hands started kneading the plump of your ass. 

“You feeling alright?”

“Good, just please- do something,” you begged and he chuckled. 

“Already beggin’ for me? God you’re perfect,” he kissed your cheek as he slowly slipped inside you. You let out a series of moans as his long cock filled you up, while his hands groped your body. “That’s it, good girl. Take all of me.”

He slowly started moving as you squirmed and moaned under his thrusts. 

“Come on, you’re so good for me baby. Doin’ so good babygirl,” he groaned. “So pretty around my cock.”

You felt yourself clench at his words. Then it happened. Your water broke. 

“Oh my god!” You shouted, immediately getting off of the bed and running to get your clothes on. Derek smiled as he watched you. 

“It worked?”

“It worked!” You chuckled, then the contractions came in, ruining the moment. You hunched over and leaned on the bed and Derek started getting dressed. 

“Come on mama, we gotta get you to the hospital,” he smiled as he helped you out. 

---------------------

Twelve hours later, you two welcomed your first little girl, Emily Morgan. 

Derek already wanted another one.

---------------------

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[denwritesandcries]

Sweet Doe Eyes – Lottie Matthews

Pairing: lottie matthews x fem!reader

Summary: Lottie knows very well what she's doing now, this girl, with that sad little face and doe eyes, with freckles highlighted by the cold and cheeks reddened burned through freezing. She knows you will give in every single time.

Word count: 1,1k.

Content: '96/wilderness timeline, eepy!lottie, cursing, pet names, cuddling & snuggling, kisses, van being a little shit in the background.

Note: FINALLY got to write for the biggest loser of the yjs. i love her so much.

English is not my first language.

You are supposed to be chopping wood.

Supposed is the key word here.

Normally this task didn't take up so much of your time, you ended up getting used to it, living in the wilderness for so long now. You could perform the same exhausting, repetitive movements with your eyes closed right now if you wanted.

“Baby, when're you gonna come inside?”

It turns out that the damn hatchet was blunt and everything in this place seemed to be a thousand times more difficult when done in winter, your warm body was now beginning to tremble in contact with the blizzard that was beginning to fall and your girlfriend was impatient.

“In a second, Lot.” You lift your head to look at her, adjusting the makeshift scarf to cover your face again, “I just need to finish this first. You can go back in.”

But Lottie doesn't move. She remains standing next to the porch, with her arms crossed over her chest and her shoulders hunched, as if every second she spent out there was torture and brought her a little closer to freezing, even dressed in so many layers of clothes and with that stupid fuzzy coat she wore over it. The sight is so ridiculous that it warms your heart.

“You know I can't sleep without you.” She muffles a yawn with her hand, blinking slowly to look at you with bright eyes and a sleepy look. You sigh, already feeling your resolve weaken.

Lottie sits on the steps of the cabin and wraps her arms around her knees, letting her cheek fall to rest on top of them, clearly indicating that she intends to wait for you when she sees you return to position yourself by the logs.

“Sweetie–” you stutter, “you don’t need to wait for me.”

You try to argue, feeling guilty when you see your girlfriend curled up like a kicked puppy and even more so when she lifts her head to look at you for a moment, deep dark eyes looking too innocent for their knowing depths.

“I wouldn't need to if you'd just come in.”

Lottie knows very well what she's doing now, this girl, with that sad little face and doe eyes, with freckles highlighted by the cold and cheeks reddened burned through freezing. She knows you will give in.

You think about shrugging your shoulders and actually finishing the task with her there out of pure spite, just because she can't go around winking and expecting you to do whatever she wants whenever she wants like that.

But… it's really cold and it's been dark for a while now and Lottie looks so sad and lonely by the door, waiting for you.

“...Fine.” You sigh, giving up.

Your teammates are definitely going to complain about you not finishing this and you're definitely going to take on the worst assignments along with Misty over the next few days, but it's hard to focus on that when Lottie's pout melts away.

“Finally!” You choose to ignore the way she instantly brightens and that sad puppy look is cast aside in an instant.

Ugh, you think, carrying the pile of firewood you've accumulated with you, Mari will definitely be a pain in the ass because of this.

Lottie is shifting her weight from one leg to the other anxiously when you turn to her again, grabbing your now empty hands and practically dragging you into the cabin.

You are hit by the heat the moment you enter and scattered across the floor are several bodies piled up near the fireplace so you have to let go of your hands to dodge them without kicking or tripping anyone. And Lottie looks upset again when you stop near the fire so you can warm your hands and pour yourself some tea – it's mostly just hot water now, but it's still better than nothing.

“Baby,” she whines, wrapping her arms around your body and pulling you against her, “I’m tired.”

“I know, Lot.” You rest your hand on top of hers gently. “Just let me warm up a little.”

Lottie squeezes her waist: “But I can warm you up–”

A hand abruptly grabbing your ankle scares the hell out of you and Van is on the floor looking annoyed.

“Baby,” she mocks, “Just go to sleep with her already so we can finally sleep too, Jesus.”

“Oh, fuck you—”

“She's right.” Lottie whines again, grabbing your chin and turning your face to hers, blinking her eyes at you sadly. “Let’s go, please?”

You immediately soften, “Of course, hun.”

You two end up somewhat separated from the others, wrapping yourself in the remaining blankets and Lottie immediately falls on top of you, burying her face in your neck.

“You’re so needy,” you tease.

Lottie lets out a hum, resting her chin on your chest contentedly to look up at you, her eyes shining with satisfaction, “I’m just really persuasive.”

You shake your head in amusement at her, enjoying the way she looks at you tenderly, her body pressing completely against yours now. You kiss her cheek gently.

“Whatever you say, baby.”

Lottie giggles, moving impossibly closer to capture your lips with hers and you sigh in contentment against her chapped lips until you feel a pair of incredibly cold hands sneak beneath all of your clothing and absorb all of your heat.

“Shit— Lottie!” You squirm, but it's useless trying to escape with the weight of a body on top of yours.

“Don’t go,” she says softly, rubbing circles into your skin until you stop moving, “I’m just warming up.”

“Aren’t you supposed to warm me up?” You ask completely indignantly as she hovers over you.

She shrugs, “I'm doing that too.”

“You are such a charm, aren't you?” And then you flick the faded spot on her forehead, just because you can't help but totally react to her little revenge for making her go outside to get you.

“Ouch,” she rubs the scar, trying to sound annoyed, but you know there's no real bite behind it.

You smile at Lottie and she smiles back, finally giving in when you pull her up and kiss her forehead in apology and she settles back on top of you. This time, you both feel warm inside.

“I love you, Lot.” You say.

Her eyes light up again, “I—”

You hear a dry cough that sounds too fake and you're completely sure that it's Van's way of telling you two to shut up again, you hold back the urge to laugh.

Lottie mumbles the rest of the sentence muffled against your neck, you don't hear it properly, but you feel it on your skin.

[thiccpersonality]

What Is A Father?

What is a father? 

This is a question Bruce has been pondering on for awhile now, especially now that Father's Day is coming so quickly. A part of him still feels the stinging pain of loss from all those years ago, yet also Bruce finds his heart warming at the memories he shared with Thomas Wayne...somewhere in his mind echoes the deep rumbling laugh of the doctor. It has been so long since Bruce has felt those strong arms wrap around him, his body trying desperately to recall the smell of medicine and antiseptics that always seemed to cover his father.

Bruce sighs loudly while turning to lie on his back, his nostrils flaring at the sudden scent of Thomas Wayne suddenly in the room. Icy blue eyes shut tightly at the tears that start to form in his eyes, it's been so long...yet that smell is undeniably his late father. There is the smell of the medicine Bruce hated so much mixed with antiseptics and yet something...warm, like a campfire, something very earthy and natural that was so undeniably Thomas.

Hm? With these thoughts, Bruce thinks he'll never get to sleep now.

The man grunts softly as he sits up against the headboard, his back cushioned by his pillows as he looks to the ceiling in thought. Because what is a father to Bruce? A father to him is many things, one of them being something to lose and mourn, but Bruce knows that is his negative side talking...everything in life is something you can lose, so he knows that people aren't too different.

As Bruce is thinking about the question, his eyes fall closed, his body still upright on the bed as an unconscious smile tugs at his lips from the memories playing in his mind...

-A Father Is: Structure-

Bruce was only three, small and innocent to the ways of the world and all the mess it can cause. Oblivious to the lies and gossip of the media and what they say about his family, more specifically, his father and mother. Though he is oblivious and naive, Bruce isn't a stupid kid, he knows that something is bothering his mother by the way her hands reach up to play with the pearls that adorn her neck, can see it in the slight furrow of her brows and the way she keeps tapping her armrest with her manicured nails.

And when his mama is distressed, Bruce is distressed as well. 

The toddler pouts at the hushed conversation that's going on across the room, his toys long forgotten as he watches his mother carefully as she whispers something aggressively to Thomas. Bruce's head tilts in confusion at the calm smile placed on his papa's face, is nothing actually wrong? Why is his mom so upset and his dad so relaxed?

Bruce scoots forward, being able to do so easily as his parents are distracted with their conversation, leaning in closer when he gets close enough to hear what they are whispering to each other about.

"How can you be so calm about this, Thomas!? They have been doing anything to try and ruin your name and reputation, and quite frankly, I don't know why you would invite the same people who talk about you behind your back into your home. I'm just-" Bruce's frown deepens at the anxiousness and exhaustion in Martha's tone-"I'm just so tired of people talking about you and I. I'm afraid that they will one day pull our baby into all this mess and Lord knows I don't want that for him, Tommy."

Bruce doesn't know exactly what his parents mean...but he feels himself getting upset at whoever is hurting his mom and dad. His daddy is good and kind and helps people, does no one else see it?

A gentle hum from Thomas catches Bruce's attention, the small tot freezing in place when he looks up and sees that warm gaze directed towards him. Thomas Wayne smiles gently at his son and holds his hands out for the child, "It seems we have a little guest, Martha. Looks like it's bothering Bruce as well." Martha gnaws at her lip in worry at seeing her little Bruce toddle his way to Thomas, the boy's face looking uncharacteristically worried for him and someone his age. "I'm sorry, my little Brucie. Mommy didn't mean to worry you-no? What do you mean no?"

Thomas and Martha watch as Bruce shakes his little head, "Not mommy. Bad people lie about daddy and mommy...that's not true. You're good, why can't they see it?"

Martha melts in her chair, her fingers stopping their constant tapping as she turns questioning gaze towards Thomas. "I don't know, Bruce. Why can't they see it?" Thomas sighs fondly at the slight aggravation that's still in his wife's tone, his arm tightening around Bruce while he leans over to hold Martha's hand in his own. "Sometimes people are complicated, this is something we know. I cannot say exactly why they can or cannot see what we see, Martha and Bruce, but one thing I do know is that I am happy where I am with you two and no lie or rumor can change that." Martha softens further at the gentle kiss placed on her hand and the kiss her husband plants on Bruce's cheek.

"I also know that I am in charge of how I choose to act. It can be hard to face lies...but I know the truth and that's all that matters to me, now, why don't we go smile and laugh and enjoy our night?"

Bruce relaxes in his father's hold, amazed at how calm Thomas can be despite everything feeling so scary, holding firmly onto the relaxed smile his dad is giving and doing his best to imitate one of his own.

XXX

Bruce sighs softly at the memory, his lips stretching into an imitation of his father's smile as he remembers how assuredly his father was in a moment where himself and his own mother weren't sure. Bruce always remembers Thomas being firm and unwavering in moments where anyone would shake and tremble, there was always a kindness and an understanding to him that Bruce always wondered about...

-A Father Is: Understanding-

Thomas and a four-year-old Bruce walk down the street hand-in-hand, the doctor has a rare day off and miraculously has not been called in for work at all, and because of such a rare thing, the older Wayne decided it would be a great time to go out into the city to bond with his son. Bruce does his best to keep up with his father as they turn the corner to head to their car, the child grunting as he bumps into Thomas's leg from the man abruptly stopping.

"Daddy?" Bruce questions while looking up to the older man for an answer, huffing and stomping his foot lightly at the lack of an answer from him, what could he be looking at?

Bruce looks to where Thomas is looking, the boy's eyes widening at the child standing in front of their car attempting to pull the tires off. Bruce hides behind his dad, his small hands gripping the man's pants leg tightly in fear as to what will happen next, his shoulders relaxing somewhat at the hand that rests gently on his head comfortingly. "Don't be afraid, son. What do you say we go talk to the young man?" 

Thomas chuckles at the look Bruce is giving him, the man choosing to smile kindly and walk forward quietly, trying not to laugh louder at his son attempting to pull him back from the other boy.

When they get close enough, Thomas places his hand on the kid's shoulder and clears his throat, effectively startling the young teen out of his concentration. "May I ask why you are trying to take my tires, young man?" Bruce hides behind Thomas's leg more when the older boy looks down at him for a moment and scoffs suddenly, "I don't hafta explain shit to you...old man. You wouldn't understand." Bruce feels his brows furrow in irritation at the boy's behavior, feeling indignant on his father's behalf at the tone the boy is taking with him.

Before Bruce can say anything in defense of his dad, Thomas just gently squeezes the teens shoulder again with a hum.

"Maybe I wouldn't or maybe I would. You never know unless you tell me everything over a meal, is that alright with you?" Bruce looks up at his dad in confusion, this person was just trying to steal their stuff and he wants to feed the boy? But he is always told that stealing is bad and you face the consequences of stealing, Bruce knows it to be true as when he attempts to steal snacks, he's scolded, put in timeout or popped on his backside depending on it.

Bruce isn't the only one baffled by the question, the teen looks around before staring back up at Thomas cautiously. "This your idea of a joke? I don't need pity or your sympathy, okay? I'm doing just fine on my own."

Thomas listens to the boy complain before nodding softly, "It isn't a joke. Nothing about this situation is funny...and I don't doubt that you are incapable of taking care of yourself, you seem to have some kind of experience on how to. But, you must be stealing my tires for a reason, yes? There is absolutely no shame in needing or asking for help, no one should be alone and struggling, especially a fine young man such as yourself. Now, how about that offer if you'd indulge this old man?" Bruce watches as something in the teen softens, no doubt there is some sort of caution still put up, but the boy looks more confused and in shock that Thomas is being genuine in his request.

"Uh...sure?"

------

"That's pretty much it. Guess your gonna call the police on me now?" The teenager, now known as Caleb, leans back in his seat while pushing his empty plate away. He looks content with the food, but something in his eyes is tired and lost as he asks the question, Bruce hears him asking: "you gonna toss me away too?" And that makes him sad for Caleb and how he thinks he's unwanted or unlikeable.

Thomas shakes his head, "No. I'm not calling the police on you, obviously you know stealing is wrong as you were trying to do it in secret-" he raises his hand to stop the boy from saying anything-"though I understand now where you were coming from. But, I would prefer if you could actually work and make money for yourself and your little sister instead of resorting to stealing." Caleb crosses his arms defensively and looks out the diner window, "Yeah...well, no one wants to hire a street rat like me. Your kind don't like people like us, guess we are too savage and dirty for the likes of them." Thomas looks troubled at hearing that, his tone kind yet firm as he speaks, "Don't say that. I like you very much, and it isn't any fault of yours that you are in the position you're in, so leave that train of thought behind you."

Caleb turns to look at Thomas and physically squirms at the look the older man is giving him...it has been so long since anyone looked at him with love and concern, usually people are too busy looking at him with contempt, as if he's nothing but trash. "You are old enough to work decent hours for your age. Caleb, would you do me the honor of working at one of my wife's orphanages or homeless shelters? I don't want you to be on these streets anymore...and you can work hard for me in payback for attempting to steal my tires."

Caleb feels as if he's in a dream, "I tried to steal from you...and you want me to work for your wife? Y-You are offering me a job, why? What's in it for you, huh?"

Thomas writes down the address and his number on a napkin and slides it over to the teen, "For one: you would be off of the streets and two: you would have a stable enough life, job and living conditions for yourself and your sister. That is exactly what is in it for me...I know this must seem like a lot, and I know you don't trust me right now, but just think about it. There is a door open to you anytime you want to come to one of those addresses and that number will always pick up when you call." Thomas slides out of the booth with Bruce in tow, smiling at Caleb one last time before leaving the restaurant.

Bruce looks back one more time when they are outside to look at the teen, his lips lifting up into a happy smile at how the boy is aggressively wiping his eyes and hugging onto the napkin like it's a lifeline.

A soft ruffle to his hair causes Bruce to look up at his dad, "You never have to be afraid, Bruce. Sometimes...people behave in scary ways or in a way that makes us mad, but you never know what got them to that point." The four-year-old nods and then tilts his head curiously. "He stole though, papa. You always say that is a no-no." Thomas chuckles and picks Bruce up, kissing the boy's nose: "Yes, and stealing is a bad thing. But, I would rather give Caleb an actual chance to get better when he's never gotten one before. I know he'll do well at his job and then he'll learn better things and grow so much. That is how he can pay me back for the attempt at stealing." 

Bruce gasps like he's gotten an epiphany as he's lowered and buckled into his car seat, "Is he serving out his time like in jail?"

Thomas stares for a second before laughing loudly and nodding his head. "Sure thing, kiddo. Sure thing."

XXX

Bruce feels the phantom touches of a strong hand ruffling his hair and lips gently pressing to his nose. He always was amazed at how his father seemed to be able to talk to anyone, all he had to do was speak kindly and offer one of his soft smiles and it seemed no one knew what to do with it. 

Bruce recalls moments when he was a-in his own eyes-a little monster, brat, or just annoying. Yet Thomas always remained patient with him despite any inconveniences...

-A Father Is: Patient and Fun-

Thomas Wayne sighs tiredly as his five-year-old son keeps squirming in his lap, the boy won't settle down no matter what he tries to do. If he lowers the boy to the floor, he screams, and if he holds onto the child, squirming is all that happens. "Bruce, why don't you sit on the floor or go play while I work? Daddy has some things he needs to review and sign." There is a bit of hope in Thomas's voice as he suggests this, maybe Bruce will magically feel like going to find Alfred or pester his mother instead.

Alas, that is not meant to be the case as Bruce whines loudly at the suggestion of being "separated" from his dear father.

"No, play with me." 

Thomas closes his eyes and inhales deeply before exhaling, he loves his son, he really does, but if only the boy could leave him be for just a couple minutes to let him get his work done. "I can't play a game right now, bud. I have work to do that is time-sensitive, and if I don't do it, it will be very bad." Thomas hopes Bruce will quit by mentioning things being bad for him if he doesn't finish work, his son is usually so kind and understanding about those things whenever him or Martha put things that way, but when Bruce decides to be a gremlin about things...he sticks to the roll well and doesn't care.

Bruce pouts and squirms more, " No. It's not more m'portant than me. Play with me?" 

Thomas sighs loudly once again before perking up, "Oh! How about we play hide and seek? I bet you that you can't find me if you're the seeker."

Thomas smiles triumphantly as Bruce's competitive side comes out (he gets it from Martha) and he narrows his eyes challengingly before climbing down his father's lap and turning away while counting. While Bruce is distracted with counting, Thomas quickly snatches his pen and papers into his arms and runs out of the office and into Alfred's bedroom, hiding in the man's closet and slumping in relief at the silence while reading and reviewing what the papers say.

Back with Bruce, the child shouts loudly how "ready or not, here he comes." The boy checking around the office first before exiting the room and standing in the hallway, he's a bright kid so he avoids any places that he can fit into, he can be oblivious and naive, but he knows some of the secret places are too big for Thomas. Let's see...if Bruce didn't want to be found, where would he go? There are a lot of places in his home where he could potentially not be found, but there is only one place no one ever goes: Alfred's room.

Bruce giggles and makes his way to his best friend's room, sniffing the air and feeling happy as the scent of his father gets stronger the closer he gets to Alfred's room.

Thomas holds his breath as the door creaks open, what is with children being able to find their parents no matter what? The older man listens quietly and grows confused as he hears Bruce sniffling, did he make his child mad? Does he think he doesn't care about him anymore because he is trying to work? Before Thomas can reveal his hiding spot, he is interrupted by Bruce knocking on the closet rapidly with a few giggles. "I know you're in here, daddy! I can smell you!"

Thomas opens the closet door to stare at Bruce, smiling softly at the proud look the other wears on his face.

"It looks like you've got me. How about we make a deal? You let me finish my work and then I play with you to your hearts content." Bruce frowns and crosses his arms with a pout, trying to remain stubborn as Thomas pulls him into his arms, "Why don't you wanna play with me? I just want to be with you, papa." Thomas chuckles at the slight dramatics in Bruce's tone, but his heart warms at the soft admittance of his son, hugging the boy close and pressing a kiss to the child's crown. "I want to be with you too, in fact, I love to be with you. But, I also have big people work to do to help provide for this family and that makes me not able to play all the time, but it doesn't mean I don't ever want to."

Thomas tugs Bruce closer to himself until the boy is curled up on his lap, "Do you know how you get tired after playing with Alfred, your mother and I?" Bruce slowly nods. "Well, that happens with my work and when playing with you too, it's very fun, but there is a point and time where you stop to just rest. However, my most important job is making sure you're taken care of, just how your most important things are making your mother and I beautiful paintings to make us happy."

"And Alfred."

Thomas chuckles and nods, "Yes. And Alfred, he adores every picture you make for him, as do we. And do you like being disturbed when making us your art?"

Bruce slumps at the explanation, "I'm sorry. I just wanna play." Thomas quickly peppers the pudgy face in kisses at hearing the sad tone in the boy's voice, "You don't need to apologize to me. I understand what you are going through, I was a kid once too, Bruce. And I'm pretty sure I was worse when I was your age...I went out of my way to sabotage my parents work so they'd pay attention to me."

Bruce makes a weird face at those words and shakes his head, "You are daddy. You can't be my age."

Thomas laughs loudly and stands up with Bruce in his arms, blowing raspberries into the child's neck as he tosses him on Alfred's bed.

XXX

If he focuses hard enough, Bruce can feel the bed shake as if he is bouncing up and down on it, can feel the tingle of raspberries being blown into his neck and can hear Alfred's exasperated sigh at seeing his Masters messing up his bed. He really wants to stop imagining things of the past...but whenever his mind slips and allows those memories to push to the front of his mind, Bruce finds himself desperately grabbing onto those once happy memories like a lifeline.

Bruce knows there are many other things his father was: gentle, forgiving, firm, silly, brave, peaceful and many more things. But the one thing Bruce seems to remember most is the version of him that is lifeless in an alleyway...

-A Father Is: Someone To Mourn-

Bruce is eight-years-old and cold. He doesn't care that the sun is shining down to share its heat, nor does he care for the beautiful blue of the sky...if anything, he hates the colors and the happy chirps of the birds in the trees, despises the fact that nature is so happy when he feels so blue.

Bruce hates looking out the window and seeing his mom's garden in full bloom, the red of her roses mocking him as each petal dances to the sound of the breeze. They're red like two things Bruce can think of firsthand: blood and his mother's favorite lipstick...lipstick she'll never be able to wear ever again. Why do Martha's flowers get to bloom and live another day when the woman herself is gone now? How is it fair to his mother that her garden continues to flourish when she is no longer here to tend to it?

Bruce feels anger and looks away from the too lively garden, his eyes turning to the trees and the birds living in them. His father loved listening to the birds every morning, Bruce recalls watching the sunrise on the balcony with his dad as the man cradled him in his arms and listened to the birds. Bruce remembers his father telling him once that the birds are singing every morning because they are happy. That they are trying to extend their own happiness out to the world with their joyful songs, and Bruce remembers feeling happy when hearing the birds sing...but now it makes him sad.

He desires to tell the birds to shut up, there is nothing to be happy about when his whole world was taken from him a couple days ago, he hates how alive everything is and wishes the sky was grey with clouds. He wishes that the sun would hide and rain would fall in mourning of the people lost to him, he wishes that thunder would rumble and lightning would strike in grief and he wishes that nature would still itself and be quiet, that the birds wouldn't sing a happy tune as there is nothing to be happy about. The once colorful memories of Martha's garden and Thomas's trees are now tinted blue with sadness at memories Bruce can never share with his parents ever again.

Bruce looks up into the bright blue of the sky as a tear falls down his cheek, his chest tightens at the overwhelming feeling of grief in his heart, his knees shakily lowering himself to the ground as the scent of his mother's flowers in the air are now tainted by the smell of gunpowder. 

A sob escapes the child as he wraps his arms around himself in imitation of how his father used to, he doesn't want to feel cold anymore. His body trembles as the sound of the birds chirping is tainted by his father's pained shouts as he collapses to the ground, why is he alone? All alone. Where is-

A firm hand rests on Bruce's shoulder, tugging him into a warm body that smells like lavender and something slightly smokey.

Bruce hadn't even realized he was panicking until hearing the sound of Alfred's sturdy heartbeat, now that he has something to focus on, he focuses on the life beating in the other's chest. His body slowly starts to warm up as Alfred also presses his shaky hand to his chest, the other just simply being a solid presence when Bruce is scared and unsure. "D-Don't leave me...please don't leave me." Bruce whispers into Alfred's suit jacket, something oddly warm spreading through his heart at the bleak looking clothes Alfred is wearing, usually the man has at least a splash of white to add some color...but the man is wearing all black. It's like he's letting Bruce know that he misses them too, that he isn't alone in how mundane he feels and that despite how bright things are, maybe there is still room to mourn and miss someone who is lost.

"I'm here, Bruce. I'm right here."

XXX

Bruce comes to at a firm hand on his shoulder, his hand automatically reaching up to feel the now aged hand of Alfred, breathing in deeply at the man's voice. "Bruce, are you alright?"

Bruce opens his eyes and is shocked to see the sun light coloring the room in its beautiful rays of red and orange. Blinking twice at the wetness he feels on his eyelashes, Bruce finds he doesn't mind the splashes of color as much this time around, he knows he has so many things to grieve and feel saddened over...but he also knows he has plenty to celebrate for. The man standing before him looking down worriedly, that grounding touch gently placed upon his shoulder-

"Father."

Bruce's breath hitches as he looks towards his open bedroom door, his eyes watering at the slightly sleepy look his youngest child still has on his face, he has never seen something or someone so beautiful. Is this how his own father felt long ago when Bruce came to him during mornings or for Father's Day? Bruce opens up his arms and smiles as Damian doesn't complain and climbs into the bed, holding in his laughter at the sound of the boy's other siblings making a ruckus as they flood into his room. Bruce takes a moment to look back at Alfred and finds his heart swelling with love at the man he now calls father...he knows that Alfred will never be Thomas, but the man never expected to be, all he knows is that they both are what is and was needed in his life.

Thomas Wayne taught him many valuable life lessons while he was alive, but Alfred showed him the other aspects of what a father does: step up.

Alfred didn't have to take Bruce on as his own...and yet he took care of him, fed him, clothed him, comforted him, was patient with him, was firm and a solid structure when Bruce himself felt he was about to crumble. But most importantly, he showed him to love unconditionally and without any expectations from the person you care for, the man truly has only wished the best for Bruce in times where he would scream, shout and cry at or to Alfred...and yet the man only ever opened up his arms or offered his hand for the grieving child to take whenever he was ready to.

A small hand on his cheek breaks Bruce out of his thoughts, looking down he sees Damian staring at him worriedly. And when looking up...Bruce sees so many beautiful colors from the people he loves. Finding himself thankful for the proof of life from every single one of them. "I'm...happy?" Someone in the sea of children snorts at how it sounds like a question, but Richard shushes them and tackles Bruce into a hug, the one body slowly turning into a dog pile of giggling children (plus one cousin) as they all shout. "Happy Father's Day, dad!"

Bruce feels more tears fall down his face as he closes his eyes and holds his family close to his heart, finding himself thankful for the memories of his parents as the smell of Martha's roses blows through the room and the sound of Thomas's favorite birds sing loudly for Bruce to hear. And when opening his eyes to see Alfred standing at the side of his bed simply content to watch over them, it is Bruce who offers his hand for the other to take if he wants.

A genuine smile graces Bruce's face at the warm hand wrapping around his own. The man only finding one thing to say to the man who stepped up as a man and a father-

"Happy Father's Day, Alfie."

(I just wanted a fic about Bruce actually thinking about how much he misses his parents, but because it's Father's Day I focused on Thomas a bit more. I hope I wasn't sleepy enough to not have this make some sort of sense? But again, I apologize for the writing this time around. 😭😭😭

I am sorry for the lack of Bruce's children being involved here, but as stated before, I wanted to focus on Bruce actually pondering on how much he does miss his biological father while also being happy at the father he also found in Alfred. I wanted to show a Bruce who is realizing that it's okay to still miss his late father and it's also perfectly fine for him to love Alfred like that as well.

Near the end there is a slight parallel (that probably wasn't noticeable as I didn't exactly write it that way lol) between Alfred and Bruce as father's near the end, because Bruce stepped up and in for all of his children when they were scared, alone and unstable. I also got that idea because I feel I recall one time in a Batman comic that Richard mentioned Bruce stepping in for all of them and all that cute family stuff!

DC can try to rip good dad Bruce and happy BatFam out of my hands, but I won't allow it. That version of the family is all that should exist UwU, they deserve it all! You darlings are much appreciated for stopping by to read if you did. Don't be afraid to leave a comment if you want, I promise I don't bite! 😂

You darlings please stay safe, happy, healthy and of course lovely as always. And if you can...let your father's (whether bio or not) know how much you appreciate them or love them and know that everything will be alright, you just gotta believe. 💛💛💛💛)

[hanbinniesmango]

Ateez maknae line reacting to you crying after an emotional movie

kyy note//: i literally haven’t posted in literally a month, i’ve had no time and no motivation😭 pls forgive me guys try and send me asks and i will do my best to answer them and the ones i already have🫶🏾🫶🏾 anyways enjoy!!

choi san: he’s so sweet and would definitely console you quickly, still wonders how the movie was sad enough to make you cry and not him.😗 the movie ends with a smile and a tender hug, suddenly your heart strings are being tugged immensely. next thing you know is tears are slowly being drained from your eyes and your nose is running, “that movie was so sad…” you say with a soft sniffle. san turns to you with a soft smile. “are you crying baby?” “yea,,,” you say whilst turning to look at him. he chuckles softly and holds his arms out towards you on your shared couch. you obviously scooch near him and enter his embrace. he pets your head and chuckles. “you’re so cute baby” he glances up at the tv then back at you. “how did you not find that upsetting sannie, it was so sweet!!” “not upsetting enough for me to cry—“ you laugh at him, “whatever you big doofus!” you playfully hit him and squeeze back into his embrace as you both erupt into laughter.

song mingi: he probably would start tearing up before you, he’s just too baby with things like these☹️ you would here him sniffling first whilst your eyes are filling with tears. “baby are you crying?” you say to him with a smile as you giggle and sniffle. “it was sad ok?!” he says in defense. you burst out laughing as you watch him wipe his eyes, the tears that were brimming in yours spill out. he looks over at you then scoffs with a smile. “see you were gonna start crying too!” as he watches a tear happily run down your smiling face. “gosh i love you, even if you’re as stupid as wooyoung,” he gasps with a dramatic force. “you’re comparing me to wooyoung?! he’s worse than me though,” you laugh more and pull him into a hug as the credits start to roll. “you’re unbelievable, song mingi.” “so are you,” he says back with a cheesy smile.

jung wooyoung: he would probably just laugh at you then finally console you when he’s done dying🙄 as you watch the two main characters run off into the sunset holding hands and that’s when you feel your eyes filling up with tears, them filling to the brim, threatening to spill over. “wow…” you say practically speechless at the very heartfelt ending, or that’s what you thought. you see your boyfriend turn over to you then smirk after seeing your expression. “was it that sad to you baby?” he says with a little giggle. “yea, they literally ran off into the sunset after the saddest confession ever!” he say. he laughs and holds your face between his palms before pushing your cheeks up making you look like an idiot. “you’re so cute!” he says with a giggle. you wiggle out of his grip and smile at his stupidity after wiping your eyes. “gosh i hate you,” you say playfully obviously lying. “liar liar pants on fire!” you roll your eyes and fake gag. “such a weirdo” “unfortunately you love this weirdo” he says with a proud look. that’s wooyoung for you.

choi jongho: he’d probably worry quite a bit, then console you like san, just a soft little bear. still doesn’t mean he isn’t gonna laugh a bit like wooyoung. 🫶🏾 “awh that’s sad,” jongho said with a soft frown before turning over to you. “what do you think sweetheart?” he tilts his head at you. you sniffle. “yea…uhm, it was pretty sad,” he smirks at you. “you crying, honey?” he chuckles at you wet eyes. you shake your head at his question, not wanting to give it away to quickly. “do you want a hug?” he questions. you nod your head this time and throw yourself into his arms. he smiles at your state and wipes the rest of your tears away. “you’re so silly,” he laughs and caresses your cheek as you both let the credits roll in silence. your his little honeybear🍯🐻

[omtai]

tfw I already feel like a bother for simply existing in the store and then the person at the till looks at me rock up and quietly says to themselves “oh god” before selling me my stupid fucking jeans … gonna be honest kitten do you want me to kill myself

[lynxfrost13]

Man for some reason the “not living up to my potential” in terms of my art is really hitting today which is stupid.

Hey brain you know that art is a forever journey and that it’s okay to grow and learn and not be perfect right???

[the-meme-monarch]

i'm trying not to seem too pathetic and sad bc i feel like I've been complaining too often as of late and it's really Nothing when you step back but i was looking forward to seeing my grandparents again today. like yeah I saw them yesterday but i made a pie for them for Today. and like maybe it'd be better for me Personally if we go tomorrow anyway so I have less time to think about It Being The Anniversary Of My Cat Dying but we aren't even sure we'll be able to see them Tomorrow. my dad said we don't even have to bring them the pie if we go because they don't know that I even made it. but I made it for them

[enden-k]

Discussion was a few days ago (I'm late to the party), but can verify: Zhongchi in Youn's style is highest quality! The most beautiful of this entire website, definitely worth digging down to it and indulging in it (shame that only limited amount of it now, but everybody better respect Youn's choice or you bouta catch these hands!)

Youn's style is prettiest style, full vibes, very feeling, best content <3 <3

i wouldnt say its highest quality or the most beautiful. thank you for thinking so tho, and that you like those

if no one minds can we just move on with this topic......ppl constantly bringing up zc and how they like this stuff and praise it and miss it or anything kinda feels like im disappointing with the things i currently draw and that make me happy and bring me life (which is silly bc i only draw what i like and want and not what others want or expect me to do so i shouldnt think about this disappointment thing but uknow)

if anyone misses zc, i rlly suggest looking for zc artist to follow and not me bc i def dont want to draw them anytime soon

ever since i draw hkvthm i feel joy in drawing again and actually like how my art turns out; im flooded with too many ideas even and also love using colors (which stressed me out before) even my friends pointed out the change in my hkvthm doodles, that you can see and feel how much i love and enjoy what i do

before that i had too may art blocks and no motivation. just thinking about zc makes me feel the mood i was in at the end of it. endlessly tired and no motivation or energy. constantly forcing myself to draw smth, anything. thats not how you should do art. thats why i dont want to draw them anymore and there wont be any zc of me in the next time.

saying this directly so ppl will understand, is not directed at you. its in general.

[sashimiyas]

.

[byanyan]

one step forward, three steps back, every. fucking. time.

[floral-hex]

I had to skip therapy this week and I’m handling it really well. I’m definitely not filled with a sadness and rage that threatens to consume me whole.

[superfluouskeys]

godddddd wasting time and energy on things that don't fucking matter has got to be THE worst feeling

[strwbrymlkshake]

Why can't I be satisfied with everything? It needs to be perfect to me and I can't accept anything otherwise :(