#but my child brain back then was like. 'man i wonder what would happen if he was nicer'

[stargirlinterludefr]

YES TO HEAVEN: jj maybank x reader

Synopsis: Three times JJ is told you love him (+1 time he finally says it back.)

TW: mentions of physical, emotional and verbal abuse, mentions of drug usage (weed), alcohol consumption, mention of Luke Maybank, mention of child abuse, angst to fluff, use of y/n

If there is one thing everyone in the Outer Banks knows about JJ Maybank? It’s his ferocious loyalty. He’s probably the most loyal man to walk the planet. The boy would walk into a fire blind to save the people he loves even if he only had a 0.99% chance of doing so, he’d rather take that chance over anything else.

But, there was one thing you knew about JJ Maybank and that was the fact he was terrified of love. The irony right? A boy so full of love that he’s nearly bursting at the seams, petrified that he isn’t worthy of the very thing.

And yet…you love him as though it’s as easy as breathing.

A fact that he can’t seem to except, no matter how hard he tries.

-

1st Time: SHARING A JOINT

The first time you tell JJ you love him, and not in the friendly way, is when you are both high as kites.

And that’s exactly what JJ pins it down to, the fact that you’re only saying you love him because you’re high. There couldn’t possibly any other reason you love someone like him, right?

“It’s crazy as shit to think that the stars…they’re just like a bunch of dead suns but they’re still vibin’ it up in the sky man.” JJ rambles, intoxicated brain running at a slower pace than usual but still managing keeping up with his everyday hyperactive sober brain.

You stare lovingly, not at the dead suns, but at JJ. Despite how much you’d smoked, your eyes held so much adoration that the Maybank boy could feel it burning into the side of the face and he didn’t dare turn you’re way because he’s sure he’d up and bolt at the sight of such love.

“I wish I could be a star, just chillin’ light years after my death and being some beautiful light in the sky it’s so-“

“I love you.” You blurt out, mind not catching up to the words that had slipped past your lips and perhaps not even realising you’d said them out loud until JJ’s head snapped in your direction at the speed of light.

The look on his face nearly made you cry, the look of utter terror that flashed on his features would be enough to make anyone cry because how could anyone hurt this boy? A boy so special, kind and loving.

A boy who currently looked at you like you had three heads.

“W-What?” JJ splutters, he’d planned to play it off jokingly, as though you were saying it in a friendly way. But he wasn’t stupid, sure he’s had a lot of cuncussion due to all the blows to the head he’s taken, but he wasn’t stupid. Nor was he blind.

He knew the way you looked at him and he knew he looked at you that way too.

You cheeks flush slightly, JJ also tries to downplay that as you being high outta your mind, “I just…I love you, Jay.” You whisper, so earnestly and full of meaning that JJ laughs.

He actually laughs.

You feel sick.

“Nah, you don’t love me man.” He throws out, mind sobering up so quickly that it almost gives him whiplash with the speed it happens. He sits up and shuffles away from you slightly, the feeling of rejection burns deeply in your gut.

You don’t feel so high anymore.

“But I do, love you I mean.” You state, beginning to anxiously pick at your nails as JJ scoffs, tongue rolling on the inside of his cheek as he pulls himself to his feet.

It’s almost embarrassing how quick you are to follow.

“Why’d you-“ He starts, throwing his hands up before slapping them back to his thighs, his glare cutting you in half like a sharp knife. “You- you’re high, y/n, you prolly’ ain’t gonna remember this in the morning.”

You try to speak, but your mouth is hoarse and you wonder if you even have the strength to open it.

“Let’s just forget about this, yeah?” He sighs out and you nearly cry at how you nod, forcing a smile for his benefit.

2nd Time: JOHN B

JJ is sat in the hammock at the Château, blue eyes intently watching as you, Kiara and Sarah giggle like three little girls as you share stories animatedly between one another.

The boy doesn’t even realises he’s smiling at the sight until John B speaks from beside him, “What’s got you looking so happy, and if you dare say you’ve jacked off in my hammock I swear to god…I’ll kill you.” JB warns jokingly, bringing himself to sit across from the blonde haired boy as JJ’s cheeks basically flush.

“Nah man, you know I wouldn’t do that shit infront of impressionable ladies.” He mocks, eyes darting to you and back to John B who looks at JJ as though he’s got him all figured out.

“What’re you doin’ anyway? Thought you, Pope n Cleo were off gettin’ some beers?” He then quizzes, trying to play it off, he can essentially feel John B’s interrogation looming.

The Routledge boy shrugs, “We were, we got back like ten minutes ago, you not hear us call out?”

Busted. He’s so fucking busted.

JJ clears his throat as he leans back on his arms, “Was probably nappin’ the sun has been killin’ me off, bro.”

“Uh huh, you sure it’s the sun that’s been making you all…distracted?” John B quizzes, eyebrow raised as he stares intently at his best friend who refuses to look him in the eye. Completely out of character for JJ’s golden retriever like nature, he never avoided eyes with anyone unless he was afraid.

JJ clenched his jaw, his eyes unknowingly travelling to you once more and this time, John B follows his line of sight and his mind clicks into place.

“Ah.” He him making JJ’s head snap toward him as the Maybank boy narrows his eyes toward his best friend.

“What? What does ‘ah’ mean?” JJ interrogates quickly, nudging JB with his knee so the boy would answer him instead of wearing a very annoying smirk on his sun kissed face.

“Ah means that you have feelings for y/n.” John B states bluntly, deciding to not beat around the bush because he knew better than anyone that beating around the bush is exactly the thing that has prevented you and JJ from confronting your feelings for this long.

JJ shifts uncomfortably and shakes his head, “The fuck? Only feelings I have for y/n are like the same ones I have for like…Kiara and Cleo, hell even you man.” JJ quickly defends and from the corner of his eye, he tries not to watch as you laugh so beautifully at something Sarah said.

Your laugh was like JJ’s own personal drug, if he could bottle the sound and get drunk to it every night he would.

John B laughs dryly before saying, “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Jay, she obviously likes or even loves you back so why not just…you know?” He says, imitating kissing motions with his hands as JJ’s face scrunches up.

“First of all, that makes you look like your a puppet bein’ controlled or some shit,” JJ begins, sitting up slightly in the hammock “And secondly, she obviously doesn’t like me and I don’t like her, we’re just friends.” He stresses, shrugging despite the desperate look in his eyes that always tells John B the truth of it.

And to prove himself wrong, both you and JJ turn your heads at the same time, catching each other’s gaze for a few moments. You always felt as though the world comes come to a halt when this happens, as though both you and him were the only ones in the world but then you feel Kiara nudge your shoulder and you remember JJ said he basically wouldn’t feel the same way about you, ever.

John B shook his head with a small laugh as he watches the interaction, standing up from the hammock as JJ’s eyes dart from yours and up to John B who gives him a quick pat to the shoulder.

“I don’t know what you tell yourself, bro, but…friends don’t look at each other like that.”

3rd time: AFTER A FIGHT WITH LUKE.

The third time that JJ is told you love him probably goes down in the worst way possible.

JJ had just had a huge argument with his father, the reason for which he couldn’t even remember now, all he knows is Luke had punched him square in the jaw and followed it with a kick to the ribs for good measure.

So, JJ was bottled to the brim with anger. And to make matters worse? You were looking at him with so much love that it made him feel sick, he didn’t deserve that love. He didn’t deserve you.

He was currently sat on the dock of the Château, face tensed and twisted with anger as he stared out at the water and you sat beside him…face twisted with anguish at the fact this had happened to the boy you loved.

JJ couldn’t look at you, again. But not because he didn’t want to but because he knew that if he did, he’d likely flip the top off the bottle that was holding everything inside of him and the thought of doing so absolutely terrified him.

“Do you want me to get some ice for your cheek? It’d probably help with the swelling.” You ask softly, eyes trailing down the side of the boys face as he doesn’t respond.

JJ really wanted you to be quiet but your love and care was overflowing and his was overcome by a blinding anger that he was struggling hard to contain, the anger that was hanging loosely by a thread which he sensed was about to be snapped at any moment.

“Or maybe a beer? Or I could roll a joint? It might be good if you-“

“God, would you just shut the fuck up!”

Snap.

Your face subtly drops but you’re quick to pick it back up, you know you have no right to be upset, he’s just angry at his dad. He’s not angry at you, right?

“All you ever fuckin’ do is yap down my ear, ‘oh do you want some ice JJ?’, ‘do you like this new shirt I got JJ?’, ‘I love you, JJ.” The boy mocks and you feel as though you’re being sliced open, your feelings laid bare like a wounded animal.

JJ scoffs out a dry humourless laugh as he raises to his feet, you are once again embarrassingly quick to follow. “I mean, it’s so fuckin’ tiring, you spout so much worthless shit down my ear like how am I supposed to get a clear thought when you’re clinging to me like I’m some sort of lost limb! It’s pathetic as shit, bro!”

His chest heaves in pure anger, anger you desperatley try to believe isn’t directed at you.

“This is just your anger talkin’, Jay, it’s not me you’re angry at its-“ JJ groans loudly enough to cut you off as his hands gesture to you wildly.

“And here you go again! Wafflin’ bullshit that I don’t give a fuck about, dictating to me how I should feel! Is that what you hoped? When you told me you loved me? That you’d get the same thing said back?” Your heart beat is sickeningly fast in your chest and you try to will your voice to come out as strong when you mutter;

“I mean, maybe? I-I never expected for you to say it back-“

“Damn y/n, I mean I know you’re smart but I never took you to be blind as shit! You and me? We ain’t gonna happen!” As JJ’s fuse burns out, his chest heaving and his words all but escaping him your heart shatters.

You both stand there, staring widely at one another.

Regret seeps into JJ’s eyes so quickly that you don’t have time to notice, your own eyes holding so much hurt that it cuts right through JJ’s anger and grasps harshly at his heart. Tugging roughly at the love he has for you, his blue eyes sweeping over your soul shattering expression.

JJ wants you to scream back, he wants you to hit him, he knows he deserves it. But you’re not his dad, and he’s unleashed his anger on you like you were.

You’d never lay a hand on him, the thought of doing so would likely make you keel over and vomit. You’re probably the most gentle person he’s ever come across and he’s just thrown whatever gentleness you’d extended to him, through your love for him, right back right into your face. Harshly.

And all you say in response?

Nothing at all.

You nod, tears now horrifically slipping down your face as you simply turn and walk away.

JJ’s ashamed to admit he doesn’t go after you, he remains frozen in place. Mind whirring at the fact that for a second, he’d acted exactly like his father.

+1: JJ SAYS IT BACK.

You never claimed to be an expert on love, you actually found it incredibly hard to believe in. Growing up and not seeing your parents love one another is a harsh reminder that you don’t actually know what love is supposed to be.

Or, maybe you do.

It’s the love you hold so dearly for your friends, the small things you love like the music you listen to and the mismatched socks you wear.

Love is how you’d define what you held in your heart for JJ, despite all the cruel words he’d hauled your way.

There is one thing your parents taught you about love…the fact that it hurts.

You’d never seen your parents actively be happy together, but when you looked upon old photos and gazed at your older siblings you knew they must’ve loved each other once upon a time. You and your siblings were a product of that love, the proof that danced in front of their faces to ensure they don’t forget. Proof of a love that burned out.

You don’t think your love for JJ will ever burn out and that’s what hurts you the most. You can’t even bring yourself to be angry at him for what he said, because he was right.

Why did you expect him to feel the same way? Why did you even hold out hope?

You hadn’t seen the Maybank boy since your fight, Sarah had told you that he was searching high and low for you but you’d somehow managed to stay out of his path.

In other words? You were hiding on the beach where you first told JJ you loved him. In a very cliche movie kind of way, you knew he wouldn’t think to check this particular spot until the last minute.

And you didn’t intend on being here when he did figure it out, but, in the aftermath? You’re insanely glad you were.

You hear him approach, you don’t acknowledge him but JJ approaches anyway and he stands still just watching you for a few moments, clearly undecided on what he could say to you.

JJ had come up with a million different speeches and scenarios of how this would play out but he didn’t expect to be tongue tied the minute he caught sight of you laying on the beach, simply gazing up at the stars.

So, he brings himself to lay beside you. He keeps a respectful distance but the fact you aren’t maiming him to death or screaming for him to leave gives him the slightest flicker of hope.

“You know, it’s uh crazy as shit to think about the stars, they’re just a bunch of dead suns but they’re still vibin’ up in the sky.” JJ quotes and he swears he sees the corner of your lip twitch, you just won’t give him the satisfaction of a smile.

“I always liked the stars, in a sort of fucked up way, they remind me that i’m not alone. That there’s billions of people under the same exact sky livin’ and breathin’ at the same time as me.” He rambles, his head now turning to you so he can gaze upon you.

This time, you’re the one who can’t bring yourself to look back.

“What I’m tryna say is, the stars…they remind me of you.” At that, your eyes find his, JJ smiling softly as he catches your gaze.

“Stars are so beautiful, they can direct you on the places you need to go a-and they remind you that no matter what, they’ll always be there, so insanely gorgeous.” You sit up and JJ is proudly fast to follow you this time.

“Wh- why are you saying this, JJ?” You whisper, voice so gentle that JJ’s heart aches at the fact he said all those cruel things to you.

“I’m saying this because…I-I love you, and i’m sorry i’ve been such a fucking idiot and i’ve been hiding behind this stupid ass wall I put up but i just know that ever since I met you…no one else has been worth even thinkin’ about.” He rambles desperately, hands coming to clasp your own as you stare up at him.

You’re so beautiful that JJ has to physically restrain himself from simply smashing his lips onto yours before you can take the time to respond.

You stare at him with so much fear in your eyes that JJ imagines it’s exactly what he looked like when you told him you loved him that first time.

“B-but what if things get like complicated? What if we fight? I-I mean-“ You start but JJ is quick to cut you off.

“I don’t care how complicated this gets, baby, I want you.” He says so earnestly and full of meaning that it takes you all but two seconds to lean forward and kiss him.

JJ happily excepts your kiss, the two of you breathing a sigh of relief at the feeling.

And from the corner of his eye, JJ thinks he sees the stars shine a little bit brighter.

[imfinereallyy]

“Dad is going to be very angry,” El says with wide eyes taking in the scene before them.

“You think Hop will kill him?” Steve says as he leans against the doorway, eating a Twizzler.

El looks at Steve momentarily, sticking her hand out for some candy. Steve hands her one without hesitation. El rips a piece off before speaking. “Oh yes. He might ask you to help hide the body.”

Steve nods solemnly, “I’ll do what needs to be done. Mikes’s my least favorite child anyway.”

“Hey!” Mike yells, gaining the duo's attention. It brings them back to the scene they walked in on. Mike and Will, with the door closed (no three inches in sight) on top of each other, making out.

Steve doesn't think he’ll ever get that image out of his brain.

“Chill, Wheeler, I'm joking,” Steve says pointedly before turning to El and mouthing no, I'm not.

El giggles, and Steve can't help but feel like he won a prize at the sound.

“I'm sorry, El.” Will blushes with shame, like he is betraying his sister somehow.

El just shrugs, “I do not care. But Dad might. He hates Mike.”

Steve snorts, “That's the understatement of the century. I don't think Hop has ever hated someone’s partner like he has Mike. Honestly, I was surprised he liked Eddie. I mean like is a strong word. But he tolerates him.”

Will pipes up, “I think he does mostly because he knows you'll move out, and he only just got you to agree to stay here.”

Steve shrugs, “I’ll take what I can get. At least he doesn't walk on me having sex.”

“We weren't having sex!” Mike practically screams. Hands up exasperated. “And don't talk about you and Eddie; it's gross.”

Will blushes deeply with head in his hands, “Oh, God.” El pats him on the shoulder in sympathy.

“Also, this wouldn't have happened if you weren't an idiot and just knocked!” Mike stomps. Jesus, this kid is 15 acting 6.

“I was the one who walked in, Mike. I wanted to know if Will wanted to watch a movie.” El says coldly, getting defensive of her brother.

Mike clams up, Steve can't help but feel smug.

“Who’s having sex?!?” A distinct Hopper-like voice echoes through the house.

Will and Mike share a panicked look while Steve and El take more Twizzlers from the bag.

“Oh no. Mike! What are we going to do?”

Mike sputters, “He doesn't have to know it was us! And we weren't having sex!”

Will looks at him like Mike is the biggest moron he's ever met. Steve loves the kid (despite early protest) but has to agree. “Oh gee Mike, I wonder who he will think it was about. Steve? Who is dating a man who isn't here and keep in mind, it's Steve. Who is our brother, and five years older than us? And in a relationship? And let's not forget..is Steve?!”

“This is fair.” Steve agrees. If anyone but Baby Byers had attempted to say that, Steve would have been pissed. But it's Will, so it's coming from a good place.

“Also! Also! The other person here is El! Who is my sister! Not to mention your ex—”

“—well it could have been—”

“Micheal Steven Wheeler, if the next words out of your mouth are it could have been you and El, I will never be kissing you again.” Will uses a deathly tone. Steve isn't convinced he didn't get from El.

“Your middle name is Steven?” Steve fills giddy.

“Shut up Steve!”

Will pinches his brows, “And you idiot, if it were you and El, you would still he toast.”

Steve whistles, “Shit, Will. Next time I need to win an argument against Eddie. I'm coming to you.”

“How long does it take for dad to get upstairs?” El interrupts.

All of them look down the hall. “Huh, maybe we are in the clear,” Mike whispers.

“I said who is having sex?!?” Hopper comes thundering up the stairs.

“I think this is what Max calls a jinx.” El looks at Mike unphased.

Steve can't help but feel a little bad for Will. He looks panicked around the room, probably looking for a hiding place. Steve knows that it isn't that same fear Will once had of Lenny, Hop wouldn't hurt them ever, but he can't help but feel a little protective of him. Steve knows all too well how the fears of biological fathers can sneak up on you, even if you know you're safe. “Don’t worry, Will. I'll make sure Hop takes it easy.”

Will relaxes, “Thanks Steve.”

“What about me?” Mike asks, eyes wide.

El shares a look with Steve. Spending as much time as they have lately has allowed them to talk without speaking most of the time. It freaks everyone but Robin out (she gets it). Seconds go by before they both nod in agreement.

Steve and El both wip their heads towards Mike, and Steve says, “You were grossed out by my relationship and called me stupid. Suffer.”

Mike's outcry is in synch with Hop breaking through screaming, “There better be three inches!”

[alessiamalfoyzabini]

can you make a fic about yan!fboyjk and yan!cheaterjk for me? i don’t have a specific plot in my mind so you can do anything to your liking :))

Pairing | cheater!fboy!yan!Jungkook x Reader

Word Count | 4.242

Warnings | +18, talk about marriage and cheating, smut, dubcon, fingering, vaginal sex, oral sex (f. receiving), Jungkook is sweet but also scary, angst, forced relationship, manipulation

Yandere genre is very strong, if you don't like it, don't read. If you are not of age, don't read. I don't want to hear any complaints in the comments, thank you.

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | You want to leave Jungkook, but he is not of the same opinion, It doesn't matter if he did wrong, you are his.

➢ Author's Note | Hi, guys! Thank you for the request! I hope you like the story, please ask me for more stories, I am happy to write for you 🥰

You and Jungkook have been always sure about your future, you would get married and live happily ever after like in the most beautiful fairy tale. So why are you crying? Why do you refuse to take your eyes off that scene? Your brain refuses to recognize those angelic features that had caught you in a dense network of colorful, sparkling dreams as a child. That cannot be the same man who swore to you in front of all your relatives eternal love, with a ring in his hand and a wonderful, sweet smile drawn on his lips. Yet who can it be but Jungkook, the man who at that moment holds in his arms a woman unknown to you? You went to the gym to surprise your boyfriend, he had been disappearing for hours for some time under the guise of training for the wedding, he wanted to keep in shape to be perfect for you… just for you. But there he is, at the entrance of the gym whispering something in the ear of the blond-haired woman, who in return smiles cheekily at his joke, running a hand over his strong, trained chest. They seem very close, there is definitely confidence between them. You finally look away, feeling incredibly wrong, and take a step back, then another and another.

You start running in the opposite direction, all to forget that scene, to forget Jungkook's smug eyes staring at a woman who is not you. When you get home you feel incredibly weak, you sit almost collapsing on the bed, in your brain a bunch of ideas start swirling around in your head, ideas that block your breath in your throat. It's not even the first time it's happened, you realize, it's happened before that you've noticed something strange in your relationship, but you've never given it any credence. You don't want to think anymore. Forget, forget, forget.

"Smells good, love," the man leaves a sweet kiss on your neck, pressing his soft lips to caress your skin, "Is my girl getting ready to spoil me yet?" Jungkook holds you tightly in his arms, practically purring against your body. You find yourself smiling between his cuddles, continuing to stir the meat stew simmering in the pot. "You're just saying that because you're hungry," you chuckle gently. You found yourself shaking like a leaf in anxiety for days, believing that sooner or later Jungkook would come to you to tell you that he was leaving you for another woman, but none of that happened, Jungkook is still the same, showering you with attention and adoring you, and still wanting to marry you. Perhaps you had misunderstood the situation, that blond woman must be a friend and you jumped to conclusions, you should have asked Jungkook for explanations, but you still feel something holding you back from doing so. It is fear, a deep and treacherous fear.

"I say this because you are too good to me," he whispers seriously, causing you to turn toward him. His serious eyes chain yours and you feel lost, watching the wonder of that glittering obsidian staring at you encompassing you with possession, Jungkook licks his lips, the rosy soft tip furrowing those inviting petals before he moves closer to you, the electricity between your bodies bursting into lightning bolts as your lips meet, softly joining in an adoring kiss full of dominance. Somehow Jungkook manages to turn off the stove behind you, grabbing your head in a grip that forces you to deepen the kiss under the pressure of his hot tongue pressing repeatedly on your lips to demand access to your mouth. In each touch of Jungkook you lose yourself, accepting the force with which he takes your lips moaning and grabbing a few wavy strands of hair between your fingers. His tongue entwines with yours creating a wet and sensual dance, feeling him slow and hot inside your mouth turns you on in an incredible way. His taste is dope and Jungkook thinks the same of yours, sucking your tongue like delicious candy and smiling. It is always like that, if he wants something, he takes it. And you at that moment happily offer him your body, your feelings and your soul. They are all his.

He grips your hips in his hands, pressing you against his hot body, he needs you and with trembling legs you leave him in charge, he takes you to the couch where he makes you lie down leaving behind a trail of light, soft kisses along your jaw and neck, he stares at you now with half-closed eyes, the man finds himself thinking that you probably don't know how much you are actually giving him. With your clothes now on the floor and your panties lowered to your knees you let your head fall back, clenching your lower lip between your teeth, gentle waves of pleasure envelop your body, Jungkook with one hand travels up your belly to stop at your breasts, which he squeezes possessively as he wraps his tongue around your swollen clitoris, licking and sucking it repeatedly before poking your soggy slit with his fingertips, entering it only slightly, just enough to let your sweet essence out and lick it away with his tongue and enjoy the taste of you that has always driven him wild. You're getting closer and closer to your first orgasm, and you know it won't be the only one; you squeeze his head between your soft, smooth thighs, but he forces you to stay still by pushing his palms on your delicate skin, continuing to eat away at your quivering folds until a wonderful, satisfying sensation grips your belly and explodes into millions of tiny stars behind your closed eyelids.

"Jungkook! S-stop!" you shake your hips trying to make him stop and he stops only after sucking your sensitive pearl against his palate one last time. Kissing your folds and moving up your skin he stops at your belly, licking slowly down to your navel and you shudder still shaken from your orgasm, he only begins to remove his pants and boxers once he reaches your breasts, where he breathes in the scent of your soft skin and takes a delicate nipple in his mouth, attaching it and beginning to caress it with the tip of his tongue, sending delicious shivers throughout your body. "Open those beautiful legs for me, sweetheart," he gives you two light pats on the knee and makes you spread your legs wide, satiating his hungry, smug eyes. He loves the power you let him wield over you. You lick your lips at the sight of his straining, cum-shiny cock, wanting to taste it, to feel that length filling your mouth and leaving you breathless, but Jungkook pushes you back against the couch firmly, shaking his head amusedly. "Later, love," he murmurs finally taking off the tight t-shirt he is wearing, you find yourself gazing at his defined and gorgeous abs with the driest of throats, he doesn't let you touch him to your disappointment, you want to caress his chest, play with his sensitive nipples, but with a firm, hard kiss he guides himself between your legs, sinuously sliding into your wet entrance with his thick, hard cock, you widen your eyes and a deep moan leaves your throat. Your sensitive folds vibrate delightedly with each of his slow, firm lunges, your arms wrap around his neck and your hips move with his, in the room you can only hear the sounds of your bodies coming together and your wheezing moans, Jungkook grunts in your ear something after a particularly hard thrust and your eyes narrow, the thick tip of his cock is hitting a particularly sensitive spot that makes more moisture gush from your pussy.

"Jungkook, I'm coming again," you whimper softly inhaling his scent, the man nods as he continues to press into that sensitive area, and you move his hair behind his ear before leaving a kiss on one side of his neck. Then something makes you miss a beat. You hadn't noticed it before because it was hidden by his rather long hair, but just below his ear is a mark. It looks like a mark- a hickey -the color is tending toward purple and your heartstrings tug painfully.

You drive your nails into his shoulders with frost enveloping your limbs, you don't want to look any further, tears accumulate in the corners of your eyes and Jungkook blames your oncoming climax, he kisses them drying them with his lips and that gesture makes you scream internally, why is he so sweet and attentive? It's not fair, it's not fair, it's not fair. With his free hand he reaches down between your bodies beginning to circle with his thumb around your clit, his pelvis moves faster, he is coming, soon he would fill you with his cum and for the first time ever you find yourself faking an orgasm with Jungkook, your delicate walls tighten around his cock, accompanying him to the end of his pleasure, but you feel nothing more. Jungkook collapses on top of you, kissing your forehead and cheeks, then finishing with your lips, but your heart is shattered. The man you love does not actually love you. "I love you, Y/N," he says, a lie you are no longer willing to believe.

There was always something wrong with the attention Jungkook was getting at school, you often attended the same classes and you always got the evil eyes of the other girls on you, you had even tried to ask the boy why, but he had always explained that they were simply jealous of your relationship and you were not supposed to pay attention to them. And you had believed him, after all, you always believed him. But now you regret giving him all that power.

"Jungkook, do you have another woman?" Your wedding is only a month away, and you can't marry a man who doesn't love you. Jungkook from his side almost chokes on his energy drink, he stares at you as if you had two heads instead of one, you are in the parking lot of his gym, you went to pick him up and you can tell he had recently showered, the ends of his hair are still damp and curled. "Shit, Y/N! Is that something to tell your future husband? We're getting married in exactly one month, heck no! I don't have another woman!" he blurts out seemingly speechless, you tighten your lips in response. "Hey ... Baby, what's going on?" he whispers softly, trying to take your chin between his fingers, but you quickly flinch away from him, who rolls his eyes in response. "What's going on is this, Jungkook," you growl, suddenly lifting some dark locks from his neck, exposing a small but remarkable detail. There are slight bite marks that are healing, you had noticed it a few days before, but you didn't have the courage to point it out, until now.

You're tired, you don't want to put up with such a situation anymore. "Stop teasing me, I hate it when you're so sweet to me, when it's clear that you're having fun behind my back with who knows how many other women!" you shout with glazed eyes, Jungkook immediately losing the confusion etched on his face, finally letting a serious and icy look shine through. "This is not the place to talk about this, Y/N. Let's go home," he hisses, not even trying to deny it one more time. This shocks you deeply. He doesn't seem to care that you finally know the truth. "I really think this is the right place, instead" you don't want to cry, so you hold back your tears by chasing them back, "You lied to me and betrayed me, I don't want to marry a man like you" the disgust in your voice makes him wince, if he thought he was going to solve things by using some bullshit catchphrases, well, he was very wrong. You make to get out of the car, you would have taken a cab rather than be with him again in that cramped and stifling space, you want to vent your emotions in a more secluded place, but Jungkook tightens a hand around your wrist.

"Don't you want to marry a man like me? My love, you may not realize that you have no other choice! We have always been together and we will always be together! You swore it to me more than once and you even did it in front of our parents!" he exclaims fiercely, tightening his grip painfully, you squeeze your eyes shut in pain. "You're hurting me," you murmur terrified by his sudden change. "Well, maybe you deserve it, don't you think?" he asks cruelly. You know Jungkook particularly cares about his parents' judgment, but you didn't think he would go that far to make them happy, so a worse doubt germinates in you. "You never loved me! You only want to be with me because our parents always wanted it that way" you want to vomit, were you really that blind? Jungkook quickly shakes his head, "Of course I love you, even though you're making me angry with this absurd talk of yours." "You don't love me, if you really loved me you wouldn't cheat on me with other women" you find the strength to break free from his grip, your pulse is red and pumping blood quickly. "I-" he freezes, his eyes dark with fury, "You don't understand, you can't blame me alone for all this!"

Jungkook knows he was wrong; in fact, he wouldn't have even wanted to start. But when you got together you were young and you had insisted on losing your virginity only once you had reached adulthood and thus the necessary maturity, you did not want your first time to be driven only by the pure hormonal instincts of two teenagers, and Jungkook had never had the courage to insist, because you seemed quite convinced about your ideas. But he needed what you were unwilling to give him, and so he cheated on you for the first time in a school bathroom after class, and he had hated himself no matter how many more countless times, but the more he got the more he wanted more, and even when you had finally given yourself to him, cheating had become an impossible vice to let go of, and the idea that you would always be left waiting for him was particularly tempting. But now it no longer seems that way; you want to leave, to leave him, and he cannot allow it. "You drove me crazy with your constant 'We're too young' or 'Let's wait a little longer'!" You open your mouth wide in shock, "No, don't blame me! You never told me you were against my ideas, and anyway, that's no reason to betray a person you say you love."

You have to get out of that car, you can't wait a second longer. The situation is worse than you thought, he has been cheating on you since the beginning of your story, you are nauseated. "You disgust me," you say before you open the door, you turn to get out, but suddenly your vision goes black, you feel Jungkook press his hand against your nose and mouth, before wrapping an arm around your neck.

When you wake up you realize you are no longer in the car, but you are not even in your house. The only thing you remember is Jungkook making you faint, then nothingness. You look around and what you see is a small room, the walls are lilac and it's littered with puppets of all kinds and colors, the mirror in front of the single bed you're lying on makes it clear the way you've been dressed. You're wearing a high school uniform and your hands are tied to the headboard, you widen your eyes and try to free yourself by pulling at the fabric used to hold you like that. "You've woken up." Jungkook makes his appearance from the bathroom connected to the small bedroom, he is adjusting his dark blue tie and you also notice his attire, he is dressed in a school uniform just like you. "What does all this mean, is this a joke?" you hiss less than amused, but Jungkook doesn't flinch. "I've come to a conclusion," he says as he approaches the bed, you try to get as far away from him as possible by bringing your free legs to your chest, you don't recognize the man in front of you, "I don't want to cheat on you, ever again."

He seems sincere, but you don't trust him. He has broken your heart too many times to deserve trust from you again. "I don't believe you, you're a liar," you say in fact, Jungkook tightens his lips. "I have my conditions," he says anyway, ignoring your words, "You'll still marry me and we'll make up for all the moments you made us miss," he murmurs dangerously, sitting down on the bed and letting a hand approach your thigh, you become an ice statue instantly, finally understanding the reason behind your uniforms. "You're crazy, I'm not going to marry you and we're not going to get anything back at all, to be honest I haven't had an orgasm with you in weeks, just the thought of a traitor like you touching me makes me lose the will to fuck," you murmur angrily, jerking away from his hand in a stinging manner. Jungkook narrows his eyes into two slits, he wanted to be nice to you, but you just don't understand. He's going to use forceful manners, then. "Why must you force me to hurt you, my love?" You look at him terrified, what does he mean?

"Jungkook, don't do anything you might regret, please." He grips your face hard in his hands, staring at you with those deep, dark pools you've always loved, pinning you in place before snapping a deep kiss. You stubbornly keep your lips tight, but Jungkook bites your lower lip forcing you to scream, his voluptuous tongue immediately making room in your mouth and groaning in protest as he plunders your oral cavity. "You'll change your mind, Y/N, by hook or by crook," he hums in your ear with a veil of amusement shining through his voice-who the hell is this man? Jungkook studies you carefully before running his hands over your hips, you shudder at his touch and his fingers stop above the buttons of your school blouse. "You will have only my body, Jungkook," you say in a colorless voice, trying to escape from that absurd reality, the boy opens your blouse, showing off the lace of your pink bra, he observes the graceful shape of your breasts longingly before returning his gaze to you. "I will have everything of you: soul, heart, body -- everything," he whispers before leaning over you, inhaling your scent straight from your bare skin.

"Where have you taken me?" "Haven't you figured it out yet?" You frown, then finally understand. It is his room from when he was a child, that means-. "We're at your parents' house." Jungkook nods. "Do you remember what happened in this room, Y/N?" Yes, you remember, but you don't want to say it out loud, that would make what Jungkook wants to do real. "You rejected me," he hisses suddenly, ripping your blouse off once and for all, you squeal in fright at his force and widen your eyes. He looks furious, his hands are shaking and his shoulders have stiffened under the weight of his fury, "I wanted you and you walked away! No matter how many times we did it when you made up your mind, you still rejected me and forced me to beg from other girls!" he exclaims, totally delirious before attaching his lips to the visible skin of your breasts, you wriggle trying to push him away, but he is too strong, Jungkook is not there with you. He is lost in his memories and blaming you for his betrayals.

Bitter tears accumulate in the corners of your eyes, it's not your fault. It's not your fault at all, but maybe... maybe if you had been more attentive to his needs, too, you would have been enough for him? When he grabs your pussy from above the fabric of your panties you arch your back against your will, his strong and powerful presence still has its hold on you and you tremble trying to stop yourself, you don't know if you are more scared or excited. "Jungkook-" "Say you're sorry," you widen your eyes. "What?" you gasp, his index finger going under the fabric and circling your slit. "Say you're sorry for rejecting me so many times, say you're sorry for all the times you made me feel like an ugly, worthless little boy!" You shake your head, "I never-" you groan, his index finger penetrating you and gently moving a few inches above your soaked entrance, you stiffen at the flame that suddenly invades your limbs. How does he still do this to you? After weeks spent in total apathy, it is now lighting you up in more ways than one, why?

Then you remember, " I don't want to cheat on you, ever again," are such simple words enough to get your body to react? Your body is corrupted by Jungkook, vibrating under his forbidden touch and practically purring, more moisture gushes from your slit, which widens to envelop the second finger Jungkook adds to his penetration, you are trembling trying not to push your hips against the boy, but it is harder than you thought. "I don't want you," you murmur, shaking your head, Jungkook looking at you firmly, tickling sensitive spots that only he knows and is able to reach. "Say it again as you come on my fingers, my love." An unsettling feeling of warmth swells in your lower abdomen. You deny it once more with your head, trying to stop your trembling legs, but it is too late, your walls tightening around his long, deft fingers, exploding in an orgasm you have longed for. "Why are you doing this to me?" you cry, moving your arms forcefully; Jungkook stops you, preventing you from hurting yourself with the ribbons that bind you.

"I wanted to make you pay for all the times you said no by making me feel like a poor, inexperienced fool," he says clutching your skirt with fingers smeared with your liquid pleasure, "But things got out of hand," he stammers, a stinger reaches your heart and your stomach sinks. You don't want to think about how many times he has devoted himself to another woman's body, it hurts too much. "You never told me about it," your words come out in a breathy voice, you try to hold back the sobs. Jungkook moves on top of you, "We will be happy, Y/N" he kisses your forehead moving between your legs, you feel him unzip his pants and enter you with one thrust, it is easy to enter you, you are completely wet and close your eyes listening to his rough, lustful sighs. His swollen cock moves penetrating you repeatedly, the bed moves under his precise and direct strokes and you squeeze your eyes shut, your clitoris throbbing and quivering seeking more direct stimulation and a sigh escapes your lips when the man presses his pelvis against your pubis, crushing your sensitive pearl while with the tip of his cock he reaches to stimulate a particularly receptive spot, you watch the strands of his hair sticking to your sweat-dampened forehead and his eyes begging you not to leave him.

"Y/N!" he moans your name while squinting, "Y/N!" he pushes harder between your soft walls and pulls with his arms on the ropes that keep you tied to the bed. "Jung-" you bite your tongue, refusing to moan his name, but the boy disagrees and demands that you look at him. "I'm sorry, I'll never cheat on you again, I mean it," he whimpers into your ear, "I only love you, only you," he moans and you find yourself closing your eyes, not wanting to give in, not really wanting to, but... "I'm-I'm sorry...for rejecting you" you stammer, pleasure rising once again and the hope of mending your relationship dancing in your chest, "I'm sorry for making you feel unfit." "The others... I just wanted to prove myself" thus confesses his feeling of inadequacy, you know you shouldn't forgive him anyway, but you love him too much, "But now I realize it's only to you that I have to prove something, forgive me" and so you let yourself be corrupted even in your soul. Just a gesture of your head is enough to allow him to come deeply inside you, your breath quickening as you reach for him clutching him in the deepest part of you, throwing your head back. Moments later he unties the knot that binds you to the bed and kisses your wrists softly, murmuring about how perfect you are for him and that once we were married, all would be forgotten because he only wants you. A tear slides down your cheek.

[razzledazzlebeach]

Daryl Dixon took awhile to age mentally

As I read more and more analysis about Daryl and rewatch some of the earlier seasons, I wonder if it was intended for his character to have some kind of age regression issue. (I didn't do, like, extensive research, I just looked into some CPTSD and age regression signs on a few different sites, so this is just an idea I'm tossing out in hopes of hearing some other perspectives!)

The first situation that really catches my attention is his reaction to Merle being left in Atlanta. Now, obviously, this would be an incredibly emotional time for anyone and it's not entirely out of place to just say he was very distraught over the news and anyone could have reacted the same way he did. I just think that the specific way he did might have some signs. If you think about a grown man, especially one who was raised in a very macho household, you would assume that their reaction might be to storm out or yell at someone. Although Daryl did yell, he also started crying and pacing. It seemed almost as if he was having a full-on meltdown. Some signs of age regression are meltdowns (Ranting, shouting, insulting others, threatening others, whining, angry tears, or getting physically violent) that ring any bells?

I couldn't find a gifs of that exact moment :(

It probably didn't help that the entirety of the camp was staring at him as all of this happened. Temper tantrums can happen because someone is scared/ashamed and can't regulate themselves. (Like sensory overload.)

Another thing that I want to kind of address is the way Rick responds to Daryl when he's having these sorts of meltdowns. Throughout the series, and in the third episode, we see Rick bending down almost horizontally just so he can make eye contact with Daryl. He speaks to him like he's a child, and instead of feeling insulted, Daryl actually takes comfort in it and calms down!

"I'd like to have a calm discussion on this topic, do you think we can manage that?"

What is age regression?

We all know that Daryl was abused as a child, and trauma like that can sort of freeze the brain. This is a quote I really like that explains it: “It doesn’t necessarily make you stuck at a certain age, but instead, [you are] acting out the emotional wounding that happened at that age,” Lapides adds." People may start to regress because they are triggered or feel threatened, and an apocalypse seems like it would cause a constant trigger. Daryl might be reverting back to childlike behaviors as a trauma response. (honorable mention being the nail biting, but that's a bit of a reach) Shane being the way that he was could have also been a trigger for him.

One of the symptoms of age regression is overly clingy behavior. And you are probably thinking, "well, if there's anything Daryl has, it's not clingy behavior. He's a loner." I disregarded this too for awhile before I really thought about it. He is highly independent when he's doing things he's comfortable in, like being in the woods or going for runs. But when it comes to making decisions or being social, Daryl immediately clings to someone who he knows will do it for him. Most of his life he had Mere to hide behind. The most outgoing and shameless person alive. I don't think Merle ever asked Daryl his opinion on anything. He would decide, and Daryl would follow, and I think Daryl took a lot of comfort in that. So when Merle was gone, he latched onto Rick because he was the best choice. He knew Rick was a very righteous man who had plenty of leadership qualities. He knew Rick would make decisions for him, and give him directions.

Carol and Rick's mothering

Circling back to the way Rick would react to Daryl's outbursts, carol sometimes did the same thing. I know some people ship them, but honestly, at least in the earlier seaons, I got major mother/son vibes from the two of them. Especially when Beth died and she was trying to teach him how to grieve. The forehead kisses, the pookie nickname, all of it seemed to point in that direction. There was also another time Rick pulled the "Can we manage that?" move, and it was during Aiden and Glenn's fight in S5. He made sure to get low enough to make eye contact, and block his pacing. He kept telling Daryl that "We can't do this now." It all just looks a lot like he and carol are parenting Daryl, if only in moments where he is feeling intense stress and that trauma triggers.

Anyways, this was just a few ideas I was tossing around, and very clearly this in my first analysis lol, any thoughts?

[doudouma]

hey there!! I hope you are doing well! I was reading your one headcannon dad! Douma x child! Reader and I was wondering if you could do a “continuation” where Muzan had to babysit the child. Make sure to take care of yourself and drink plenty!!!! :)

“douma has a WHAT!?” pt2

muzan babysitting doumas child!(reader)

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read part one here!

this is a semi pt2 of dad!douma! muzan having babysitting doumas child, hm? this will definitely be interesting〜 (reader is also still 2-5, from part one.)

there are no warnings, my dear lotus.

reader is gender neutral.❀ 〜

a/n : hello, im doing quite well! thank your for the reminder, dearest! be sure to take care of yourself, aswell〜

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚

hmm… would muzan even want to babysit doumas child?

no, but for the sake of douma getting his mission done, maybe killing some hashira plus him potentially finding the blue spider lily? yes.

he doesn’t even like douma, he’s one of his least favorite upper moons. but after all, douma is still a uppermoon. upper moon two, if you will〜

which means he has advantages that lower kizuki and demons don’t!

muzan would definitely negotiate with douma on why he has to babysit his child. they’re not his! but douma is just so persistent…

“muzan-sama〜! can you please babysit my child for me? while i go on my mission? it’s far too dangerous, i can’t risk losing my precious baby!”

“why? whatever happened to “uncle akaza”? they aren't mine, and certainly isn’t my responsibility. you should just be a better father and just protect them.”

“muzan-sama, please? i’ll give you my beautiful eye in return? akaza-dono is out somewhere. they’re just a baby to me, i don’t want them to be traumatized for what they'll witness. see how cute they look? i promise they won’t cause any trouble〜 they'll spread joy onto you〜 something you may need〜”

💢“go. and be quick. i don’t want to babysit any longer than i have to, for i have more important things to do. i have no use for your eye, either.”

now it’s just you and muzan.. muzan and you..

he would most likely sit you off in a corner and let you doodle on blank papers.

while he finishes up any work he has. and of course looking off into the area you’re in, making sure you’re not causing any trouble〜

for some reason he decides to head your way? he doesn’t even know why, he just does.

when he sees that your actually drawing pictures of landscapes and sceneries, he’s impressed?!

(yes, you are a still toddler. only cool readers over here.)

he asks you questions about your drawings, and listens carefully through your speech impediment.

now that you’ve caught his eye, he moves you closer to where he’s working, at his desk. (congrats, you got promoted from the corner to near his desk!)

out of his old man habits, he starts rambling to you about flowers, and your little self just listening, occasionally asking questions.

it seems like.. the two of you are bonding over flowers, hm? how cute♡

it seems like you’ve got knowledge on flowers yourself, so muzan proceeds to asks you,

“at any point in time of your doings, have you seen a flower thats in deep blue of color? a blue spider lily?”

whatever your answer was, he decides to keep you closer to him.

not only because you could help him find the blue spider lily, but because… well…

now he sort of favors you♡

not your father. but you. he will never admit this either, for you’re still the offspring of douma.

when he finishes up with his experiments for the moment, he turns to you and sees that you’re bored.

he would find something else for the both of you to do. taking a stroll!

he picks you up, and carries you around asakusa, and any nearby beautiful forest, while the both of you still talk about flowers, or anything your toddler brain wants to talk about〜

after around a couple of hours, the two of you return back to the castle. and what’s that, a little smile on muzans face?!

gone, as soon as you look at him, though.

he sees douma, and quickly shoves you into his arms.

“oooh, my baby〜! did you miss papa? i thought of you the whole time! oh, how much i love you♡! muzan-sama, thank you so much! i know my little one wasn’t causing any trouble, right? what did you two do?”

“they were fine. and that’s none of your business, your child is back to you without harm. there'll be repercussions the next time you make me babysit, now leave.”

muzan doesn’t have any love for children. let alone, almost anyone.

overall, he actually didn’t mind babysitting you! not only we’re you easy to handle, but you’re intelligent.

youre fun-filled toddler personality probably what was needed to cheer muzan up, even for just a minute♡

ooo〜 this was so cute, i really loved to write this! somehow, i finished this relatively quick once i started it. once again, thank you all for your patience, my precious flowers❀ 〜

[tarjapearce]

I miss the soccer family, but I wanna have a fix about what happens during the birth of Rosie? :') I THINK THAT WOULD BE SO CUTE

Baby Rosie can't wait to meet her parents. Literally ~

As Rosie's pregnancy advanced, so did Miguel's eagerness when you reached the final stage of it. A couple of scares had him carrying you like a bride to the car and driving to the nearest hospital.

"She's such a troll already" you grumbled upon returning, tired, sore and so so sleepy.

"Maybe she's afraid the doctor will spank her too hard?" You giggled at his words.

His goofy attempts of lightening the mood always worked. He was a goof underneath an intimidating exterior. Your goof.

"At least we know she's excited to hear you" One of your hands took Miguel's to place it on your belly. His eyes twinkled upon seeing the fussing inside.

"She'll be a troublemaker." With a kiss on your cheek and a little belly rub, he resumed his task of getting home. Thankful that the lights were red to have that little moment with you.

Gabi was surprised to see you back, still pregnant.

"What happened, Mama?" she quickly fetched your slippers and helped you change shoes.

"Ay mi amor, your sister doesn't wanna come out yet."

"Pinche Rosie..."

Gabriella mumbled in a hushed tone, her potty mouth, thanks to Miguel, had been more prominent ever since she hit the thirteens.

"Where is the baby?" Asked the actual baby, Benjamin, while looking at you with his beautiful rusty brown and curious eyes.

"In the oven still, cariño"

"I thought it was on your belly?"

Miguel chuckled and helped to remove your coat.

"Alright, let Mama rest. Rosita will arrive when she feels like it. Are you hungry, mi vida?"

"Not really, but a hot cocoa would be great. God my back is killing me."

You whimpered as Miguel helped you to the couch, too exhausted to waddle over the bed, rubbing circles on your back.

----

That night had been hard, despite the doctors saying Rosie was fine, he couldn't help but think about you and your struggles on carrying his third child. Gabi had proven to be difficult enough, Benji had made an emotional mess out of you, but Rosie was definitely a challenge.

Big round belly nested between your thighs, your hands rubbed tiredly at the discomfort, trying to subdue it. An apologetic smile came to his lips as he kissed your temple. Conveying a fraction of his gratefulness towards you.

Little did you know that he was always marveling at your body and how this adapted so easy to pregnancy. The scientist in him was always observing and making mental notes on your cues to know when you were in pain and absolute discomfort. Right now, all he could do was to lay behind you and bask you in his body heat with a gentle hug.

He knew his temperature made wonders on your aching muscles, your lower back specially. Where the pressure accumulated. He also knew his children would be big, he was a big man after all, and having you go through such changes and pains just to carry his children, had turned in no other but the ultimate love proof from you.

You loved him. Not that you didn't show him, quite the opposite really. Sometimes his brain was too enraptured in seeing his children grow right before his eyes, that whenever you showered him in love it felt like experiencing it for the first time, despite thirteen years preceding you both.

You didn't know what had come over him that hugged you so gently, like holding the most beautiful thing a man could hold, and rubbed your belly softly. Admiring his part of the teamwork.

"Thank you." It came a soft whisper from his lips, "For going through this for us."

A lazy and sleepy smile stretched on your lips.

"You're so sappy I love it." You took his hands and kissed them, "You're the only man I'm willing to have children with. And the only man I'd ever got a baby fever with if I'm honest."

He chuckled in your neck, inhaling your scent.

"Oh really?"

"Yeah. And look at us now. Expecting our third."

His hands massaged your shoulders gently, easing a bit of the building up tension. Then they moved to your breast. It wasn't erotic, but soothing. Intimate even. Your hands drooped as he moved them towards your belly, rubbing from the lowest to the tip, feeling the occasional kicks and movements his daughter replied with at his ministrations.

"You gotta come out, Rosita." He mumbled while his hands kept busy. You had been slowly drifting off to sleep.

---

Contractions appeared every seven minutes, seven minutes you used to breath and whimper. Miguel never left your side, not that you let him anyways, your hand clenched with a vice like grip he whimpered subtly in pain.

"I'm sorry mi amor" You spoke in between breathless sobs. Raging hormones and the nerves always took over you, bus his encouraging words always ground you.

"Mi niña, mírame." He hushed as your temple and cheeks were doused with his kisses and affection.

"I love you. You'll do great ok? I'm here." Clammy hands looked to embrace him, "I've got you, mi reina."

The lump in his throat turned bigger as the doctor approached, ready to get Rosie out. It was time to push. A flurry of things came to his mind, what if the baby was too big?, What if something happened to you last minute? What if-

No. None of that was happening. You were fine, and the pushing was going as great and painful as it should be.

"Just a few more pushes, Mrs. O'Hara. The head is nearly out"

"I so wanna punch you right now" He chuckled and held your hand tightly as you breathed and prepared to push again.

"Eres un cabrón..." (You fucker) you half sobbed half chuckled before pushing.

"Así me amas, chula." (You love me anyways)

The last word came out as a choked whimper as you held to him a bit too strong. Pregnant women's strength always amazed him.

"Una más, corazón, ya casi sale" (One more, sweetheart. She's almost out.)

You took a small break, panting and gasping for air. Sweat etched to your skin, like some strands of hair on your forehead.

The loud and healthy wail of your baby echoed through the room. Rosie had arrived.

Nurses quickly cleaned her and cut the umbilical cord, weighed her down and gave her to you.

"Look at her, Miguel" tears were unavoidably shed. Seeing your baby, your little Rosie finally in your arms, instantly snuggling in your chest, as if seeking refuge from the outside.

"Mama's here, mi amor." You cooed as you rocked her. Miguel's heart gave an enthusiastic shimmy upon seeing his daughter, one of the many pieces of him, latching on your breast.

Silky, soft and dark curls perched ontop of her tiny head. Her skin was a lighter shade of his, cheeks however made honor to her name. Flushed, rosy and oh so ready to be squished and kissed.

He kissed the top of her head and then yours. Whispering sweet swords of gratefulness and a lot of thank yous

His family was finally complete.

[matan4il]

Update post:

It's exactly six months since the start of the war. Six months since the worst massacre of Jews post WWII. Six months since the worst tragedy in Israeli history, for Jewish and non-Jewish citizens, and for non-citizens who happened to be here. Six months of still not understanding how it could happen. Six months of looking for a way to comprehend that the age of defenceless Jews being mass tortured, raped and murdered isn't behind us. Six months of watching people deny the murders, the rapes, the intentionality of these crimes, the identity of the perpetrators, the pain that we feel, the fact that on October 7 we were the victims, all of which denies our very humanity. Six months of even more Israelis getting killed, soldiers and civilians, in Israel and in Gaza. Six months of wanting my people back. All of them. Alive. The kidnapped and the massacred. Like having an adult's brain, which understands the finality of death, and a child's heart, which doesn't. Six months of trying to process images and realities I will never forget, and never understand. Six months of watching with horror as my Jewish brothers and sisters abroad are being targeted as well, of searching for ways to stand with them even from afar. Six months of hearing some non-Jews (and a minority of Jewish people) acting as if Israelis' right to live is dependent on how many Gazans the antisemitic, genocidal terrorists of Hamas manage to get killed, in order to turn the world against us. Six months of having to realize those terrorists, who never made it a secret that their intents for every Jew in the world are genocidal, might succeed. Six months of wondering how the Holocaust, the genocide perpetrated against the Jews for being Jewish, is being hijacked, distorted, and All Lives Matter'ed, by the same people who would have screamed against how wrong that is, if it were done to any other marginalized group. Six months of finding comfort in the compassion, strength and solidarity of the Jewish People, of the Israelis, and of our true allies. Six months of working to allow joy in again, even as the pain doesn't let go for a second. Six months of having to face the devastating fact, that the family scars, born out of millennia of antisemitism, are not going to stop with this generation, either. Six months of experiencing the betrayal of people who were supposed to be friends, and to listen, and to know better. Six months of discovering that there is no limit to the human heart's ability to break. Six months of grieving every day like it's the first one, because October 7 never ended here. Six months of knowing I will never be the same, right from the start, from the very first horror video I happened to come across online. Six months of never being more Jewish in my life, or closer to what my Holocaust survivor grandparents had gone through, or more broken, or stronger, or prouder, or braver, or more full of love, for my people, for my friends, for my heritage as a Jew that teaches choosing to hold up even one little light, because in a world so full of darkness, so willing to embrace it, nothing matters more than the light we choose.

<- -> <- -> <- ->

Yet another Palestinian terrorist attack happened today. Two people were shot by the terrorist attacking vehicles driving by, and one of the vistims, a 19 years old female soldier, is said to be in serious condition. The other victim is a 50 years old man. The army is in pursuit of the terrorist.

We learned that yesterday, four more Israeli soldiers were killed during the fighting in Gaza, bringing the totaly number of fatalities in the ground operation to 260, and in the war and Hamas massacre combined to 604. May their memory be a blessing.

A 17 years old Palestinian was detained, searched and then arrested yesterday at the Damascus Gate in Jerusalem, when they found a concealed knife taped to his body, stopping him before he was able to carry out a terrorist attack. In a Facebook post, he talked about martyrdom and the road to heaven, a message typical of Jihadists.

Liri Albag is one of the four young Israeli female hostages, who were featured on the cover of the Daily Mail, showing them before the kidnapping, and just several hours after. Her family was sent a funeral laurel wreath, and security forces believe this was done by Iran, as part of its psychological warfare against Israeli civilians.

Here's another reminder that Hamas operates outside of Israel, and is a danger to all Jews, not just to all Israelis. This week, German and Dutch police jointly arrested four Hamas terrorists. While investigating their intent to launch attacks during Christmas, these forces ended up uncovering a Hamas weapons cache in southern Bulgaria, meant to be used against Jewish targets in Europe.

This is 47 years old Elad Katzir.

He was a farmer, and a passionate soccer fan. On Oct 7, his dad Rami was murdered in their community of kibbutz Nir Oz. His mother Chana was abducted, then released during the hostage deal, at the end of November 2023. The Palestinian Islamic Jihad (PIJ) claimed she was murdered, but it turned out they lied. Yesterday, we got the news that Elad, who was also kidnapped with his mom by the PIJ, was murdered in captivity, likely back in January. Intel that the IDF had collected led soldiers in a risky operation to the spot where Elad's body was buried. They brought him back home. As he volunteered so much, in so many domains, with so many people, his friends described him as, "a bachelor with many children."

May his memory be a blessing.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[chezzywezzy]

Yandere Birdbox (3/5)

Word count; 3.8k

For the first time, Y/n had the concious thought about whether they could use their ability to see their surroundings. They always thought their blindness was a curse, but in the apolcolypse, it had come in usefully. Whether this was only an ability in their sleep, Y/n had yet to determine, but they hoped it wasn’t — Y/n didn’t see any other way to survive.

Y/n laid their head against the counter. They plugged their phone in, dreading the day when electricity was no longer available and Siri — Y/n’s only friend — was silenced. And then came the issue of food. They were stuck. Y’n couldn’t help but ponder death. They were aware of how generally awful they were as a person, and that kept Y/n with a will to live and a will to die.

Y/n was selfish, rude, and a coward. They were bitter at the world for being unfair and punished the people around them the same. Too selfish and afraid to die, but too hateful toward the world to live. It was a conundrum. Y/n figured, though, that their general confusion would be the death of them, as they were too confused on what to do. Y/n had their talents in a paintbrush, not a weapon. Y/n couldn’t see. Y/n hardly knew the area because their father often shipped groceries to their doorstep so Y/n only left the house for exhibitions, interviews, and art supplies. 

Their father. Y/n sat up, grabbing the phone. 

“Hey, Siri. Call dad.”

The phone began ringing. The screen was slightly cracked, but its not as though Y/n cared. The phone rang. And rang. And rang.

“The person you are trying to reach is unavailable. After the tone, please leave a message.”

A wave of sadness and worry washed over Y/n. They recognized that their father was the most important person in their life. Perhaps his phone was dead. Perhaps it was lost. Perhaps he was asleep.

Or perhaps he was dead.

For the first time since hell had descended on earth, Y/n began to cry. They wandered over to the couch to lay down, curling on their side. For the first time in a while, they thought of ‘Last Look’s dreadful day.

“Doctor, why can’t my child see? How can they get their sight back?” their father pleaded.

“Sir, I’m sory, We’ve ran several tests, but sometimes, things like this happen. A hidden gene. A faulty switch in the occipital lobe. Although there is still no noticable differences in their brain development, nerves, or blood work, cases like this happen. It’s unfortunate, and unfair. Sometimes, the eyes shut down entirely overnight from unknown causes. And, currently, we don’t have the technology to do anything about it.”

Their father’s eyebrows furrowed. Although Y/n couldn’t see it, he was losing hope. He wondered if he had somehow failed his only child. 

“I… I did some research. They somehow made a young boy see again —“

“That was a scientific anomaly, sir,” the doctor argued desperately. “And anyway, this clinic is incapable of giving that kind of treatment.”

Y/n’s father began to sob. They are crying, too. The doctor’s words scared them. They clawed and rubbed at their eyes, but their father grabbed their hands, squeezing tightly. He comforted them, whispering sweet words that everything would be alright. That they would make due. That there was nothing wrong with being blind. That it wasn’t the end of the world.

But Y/n was only a child. Their entire future had been robbed. Y/n didn’t know of any blind heros. Anyone out there that made a living or lived independently. Y/n was uneducated. All they knew was that their world had ended, and that they wanted to see again.

And see they now did. Y/n shot up. It was but a blink, but they saw. It was like they physically transcended their body and walked to the door, going right through it. They reached for a canvas, their fingers tracing it like a memory. A man. Middle-aged, beer-bellied, straggling jawline, balding. Pale eyes with a daze. Pounding, over and over. His knuckles bleeding. His clothes torn and bloody. The woman’s corpse beside him, eyes torn open and from her skull, as though his fingers had dug into them to remove them personally. In the woman’s chest, there was an iron rod.

Y/n could still see it clearly. The man was really there, still pounding ruthlessly. Y/n had blocked out the knocking, but with sudden focus, their ears returned to the sound.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

They dropped the brush and went over to the kitchen. They pulled a knife from the drawe, removing the blade cover. The wind was still howling outside, pounding at the windows. They went over to the door.

Y/n suddenly found courage and a voice.

“How are you alive? Why are you here? How did you know I was here?”

The knocking stopped suddenly. With its absense, an eerie silence followed. Y/n suddenly regretted speaking up.

A gruff voice, enchanted yet ery, very dry and cracked, answered. “They showed me true beuty. They want me to show you. Let me give you my eyes, Y/n. I want to give you my eyes —“

“Why is everyone else dead but you? What’s doing all this?” Y/n’s voice was shaky yet steady. 

“…Sinners. All of them. They did not want to see. But I do. You do. They want me to show you it all. Open the door, Y/n. Let me give you my eyes.”

“That’s impossible. I am blind. Please, leave me alone —“

“But you have the sight!” the man suddenly boomed. “They gave it to you a long, long time ago. And now, they will show you everything great and beautiful. Open the door. Open the door. Let me give you my eyes.”

Y/n only grew more confused with every sentence. Nothing made sense. 

“How will you give me your eyes?”

Manic, cracked laughter ensued. “I will tear them from my skull and hand them to you. You must see it, Y/n. It is beautiful! Beautiful, I tell you! Open the door!”

“Leave your eyes at the doorstep. I will take them that way.”

“I wish to see you myself. They speak so highly of you. You are the most beautiful landscape of all. I must see you, Y/n. I must see you and hand you my eyes —!”

Shivers rolled down their spine and they took a step away from the door. Y/n was left with more questions than answers. The whole endeavor was pointless. However, Y/n knew that they couldn’t stand the knocking anymore. And they didn’t trust that this man would just die. Something supernatural had consumed the world. The man’s eyes weren’t normal. Perhaps his biology wasn’t, either.

With that, Y/n didn’t let the fear take over. They unlocked the front door and swung it open. The voice was no longer muffled. They aimed to stab, but the man suddenly bellowed and collapsed to his knees. The man was far more vocally gruesome with a door no longer seperating them. The man bowed.

His scarred, bloody hands touched Y/n’s feet. He scrambled and panted. Y/n is left stunned, allowing the man to grovel at their feet. 

Sobs echoed the empty hallway.

And Y/n was shaking from head to toe.

“Oh, it’s beautiful!” he cried. “They were right! The most beautiful thing in creation!”

His praises fell on deaf ears. Rough hands squeezed Y/n’s feet and they felt overwhelming disgust, overpowering the fear. The hands clawe at their calves and then their thighs. Suddenly, he withdrew, falling silent. His face was drenched in sweat. He glistened with salt and oil. Tears continued to fall, and although Y/n did not know, his eyes were glued to their figure in awe.

And then, he began to claw. He dug his thumb and pointer finger into his eyelids. Y/n stumbled back, hearing the squelch. The man released painful gurgles. Slowly and painfully, he removed his eyes. The man sobbed desperately, and yet all he cried was blood.

Y/n felt a spray against their pants. Y/n had enough. Their selfish, angry side kicked in, adrenaline suddenly bursting through their veins. Gritting their teeth, they stabbed the man in the neck, somehow knowing exactly where to aim. The man gurgled out a cry, dropping his eyeballs and collapsing to the welcome mat. Y/n kicked the man away, feeling their socks get drenched with liquids. The man’s thud was the last sound he made. 

Y/n felt around the corpse for the knife, disgusted. They removed it. 

They slammed the door shut and locked it again.

The corpse sat there. The man lay there, decaying and wet. The eyeballs were completely seperated and long cords spun out from his eyes. Despite the pain he and Y/n had caused, the man was smiling.

Y/n was rattled to their core, turning and sliding down the door. Their hands had intense tremors. They knew damn well they couldn’t stay stuck. The wind was howling, harder and harder. The beast was near. And the insane missionary had found them once. Another one surely could. 

Y/n stayed frozen on the floor, cradling the moist knife like a child, for a very, very long time. It was slowly settling on them that they had commited murder. It didn’t feel like self-defense. The man had worshipped them, for christ’s sake. They couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened, had they taken the eyes? What would they have seen?

They decided to think it over in the shower; they knew they had to move while they had the resources. Siri wouldn’t live forever. Their food supply wouldn’t last. They needed to find a grocery store to camp in — one that wouldn’t be too populated with hypothetical looters.

They also needed resolution on what happened to their father.

When they hopped out of the shower, they began to pack the essentials: their charger, phone, cane, clothing, food, and paints. Everything they’d need to survive, but also live. 

Y/n’s first thought of where to go was the corner store down the block. It’s where they often went for an easy snack. Y/n took their cane and turned Siri on to the corner store. They shoved the phone in their pocket after plugging in earbuds. 

They felt their way toward the elevator. Their ears were keen, but the hallway was silent.Usually, their apatment building was full of hustle and bustle, especially at… god, Y/n didn’t even know what time it was. So, they asked while in the elevator.

“Seven-thirty-three.”

The elevator beeped and the doors opened. More silence. Siri repeated directions, but Y/n knew the way to the front entrance. 

They paused. The beast seemed to follow their every move; it was everywhere. It was the air Y/n was breathing. That much they knew. They hovered, afraid to leave. But Y/n’s will to survive and be selfish was the most important part.

And then they hear it: a screaming woman. Y/n dashed out the door, selfishly believing this was their chance. In Y/n’s mind, the wind would divert its attention, even if it was an entire entity. The screams echoed and grew louder. The wind was bustling and squealing in their ears. They could hardly use their cane, relying solely on Siri’s directions.

“Turn left to reach your destination.”

Y/n skidded to a stop, losing their footing. Y/n grunted loudly, knowing they would probably be left with a nasty bruise. They scrambled onto their knees. They dropped the cane, but as the wind whistled and bustled, the cane was the last thing on their mind. In their world of darkness, they crawled forward, finally feeling at a glass panel. Y/n scrambled to their feet, gripping the handle.

They pulled at it desperately, almost falling again as the door swung open. They felt papers adorn the inside, and a wave of relief washed over them as they pulled the door shut. Y/n was shaking in their boots as they held the position, feeling the wind beat against the door. 

Click.

Y/n tensed, turning wildly and reluctantly releasing the doorknob. Their voice came out as a squeak.

“Who’s there?”

“Don’t move. Hands up.”

A man’s voice echoed in the otherwise silent corner store. The man sounds gruff, and Y/n can tell that the man sounds rather redneck. And by the clicking, the man held a gun. Y/n complied.

The man emerged from behind a shelf, crouched slightly, and had a pistol aimed directly at them. Y/n panted, unaware of the man’s exact location. Their head turned every which way, attempting to locate the man. The man wore a dark leather jacket and was somewhat older. He had a peppered beard and a big bald spot on his head. He wore glasses and ripped jeans, giving off the general aesthetic of a retired biker. 

“Now, what’s it like out there? Have you seen it?”

“I - I don’t know. It’s quiet, sir,” Y/n stuttered. “I’m blind — I can’t see the monster —“

“Bullshit.”

“I dropped my cane right outside the door —“

“I know you’re just like the last guy. Trying to fool me, are you —“

“I’m blind! I’m Y/n L/n — I’m famous, haven’t you fucking heard of me, you fucking loser?” Y/n exclaimed, almost insulted. “Just look out, and you’ll see you fucking cane —“

While Y/n had been ranting and tossing insults at the man, he had progressed silently. Y/n stared out blankly, expression angry and unchanging as the man snuck up on them. Y/n paused, breathing heavily. All they saw was darkness, unaware of whether a gunshot would shoot them dead.

“Boo.”

Y/n jumped wildly, flailing to the ground. They burst into tears, which made the man laugh. He glanced out the paper, noticing the cane. “By golly, I guess you are blind. Or one hell of an actor. You don’t got the same eyes as them, either.”

“Jesus, fuck you —“

The man lowered his gun and chuckled gruffly. “Yeah, yeah. If you saw the world we were living in right now, you’d understand. Now, get away from the door and behind this here counter.”

Without asking, the man grabbed and pulled them. Y/n frowned firmly but allowed it to happen. Behind the counter was a small pile of wrapper trash and a torn up sleeping bag. The man beckoned to sit, but they gathered that once they felt the counter. Their movements were still skittery, untrusting of the man before them.

“So, let’s exchange stories.”

“Stories?”

“My name is Mark. I’m the owner of this establishment, although that doesn’t mean much these days,” he explained. “I followed the news religiously, waiting for something like this. Then, I noticed reports of mass hysteria starting in Italy. I shut down shop immediately, and not even an hour or so later, the news turned to shit, and so did the world outside. I learned that whatever’s out there cannot be seen and all that shit, so I’ve got my trusty blindfold around my neck just in case. And finally, I guess it’s safe here for now, but we sure as hell can’t stay here. It’s a fucking corner store. The supplies aren’t endless.”

Y/n listened intently to his ramblings and, deciding to suspend distrust, nodded and replied. “Yeah, okay. So, I’m blind. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of me. I’m the ‘blind painter.’ I had a gallery that day and was heading home when it all started. Uh, and I was fine until I started having… dreams. Seeing things that were there. Like this cult guy outside my door that wouldn’t leave me alone. I actually saw what he looked like in my head. I killed the guy and he was fucking worshiping me. Something about how he wanted me to see. God, he pulled out his eyes —“ Y/n stopped, replaying that moment in their head and shuddering. “Uh, and I came here… Oh. And I’m Y/n.”

“The fuck?”

“I guess this plague affects everyone differently, but if I’d known that, I sure as hell wouldn’t have let you in.”

“It’s a gift,” Y/n insisted anxiously. “A stupid one. But my father always told me god gave me eyes in my dreams. The truth is, I think I’ve seen the monster in my dreams. And when I focused, I could see the man outside my apartment. But only when asleep.”

“Prove it. Show me some of your drawings. You obviously brought the fucking supplies.”

“I haven’t used this notebook in years. It’s only old drafts,” Y/n answered, withdrawing the notebook from their bag. 

“Well, if you’re some fancy painter, it doesn’t really matter.”

Without warning, the man snatched the notebook from their grasp and started going through the pages. He slowly goes through them, ignoring Y/n’s angry expression from the invasion. Inside the notebook was several drafts of pretty locations. Some faces. The occasional animal.

Mark paused at a page, his brows crinkling. “This the monster you saw in your head?”

“What is it?”

Mark described it to them.

“Yes. Although that could have been my imagination.”

Mark continued to stare at the scribbles. It was somehow made of clean yet untidy scribbles. There was a large circle surrounding a large head that had long, spindly tendrils, leaving a cavernous mouth. The thing had slits for eyes, and there was a gleam to the flesh of the beast. It was like a halo over it, and Mark couldn’t help but admire the drawing. 

Then, he turned the page to find another one. He was suspicious, but the drawings were aged and marked with a date from several years ago. This drawing had a clearer face image, showing the tall, slimy forehead. The slits for eyes were open, bulbous, and consumed with black charcoal. The tendrils leaked down the paper like Y/n had switched to paint halfway through.

After that sketch, it returned to an image of a mountain waterfall.

“…Huh. So you’re telling me you saw this shit coming too?”

“Hardly. I thought they were nothing but recurring dreams until now.”

“Well, let me get some food. I think there’s a spare sleeping bag in the back, too.”

Mark rose and weaved around Y/n. Y/n remained still, grabbing their notebook back and getting lost in thought.

They thought about how long they would be able to stay, especially in the company of Mark. Another person meant the distribution of resources, but Mark could also see and shoot. Y/n figured their thoughts were selfish, but the world would probably be much prettier without fellow humans polluting it. Yn didn’t care much bout life, but cared enough that they refused to commit suicide. Y/n wondered if their father was alive —

Y/n heard a door open and assumed Mark was returning. Mark returned with a box of Frosted Flakes and a rolled-up, far newer sleeping bag. 

A sense of safety and exhaustion reached Y/n as they silently munched on Frosted Flakes. The taste was slightly stale, and despite their typical pickiness, there was a sense of comfort. They came to terms calmly with the fact that the apocalypse was upon them. That meant that stale cereal, a warm sleeping bag, and a man with a gun weren’t the worst things in the world at that moment.

“You sure you aren’t possessed?” Mark yawned, perking up and cradling his pistol.

“He said ‘they’’ wanted to give me my eyes back. To give me true sight. The ma worshipped me as a god,” Y/n recalled with a pause. “I wish I was possessed because whatever they are seeing… it must be incredible.”

~~~

Y/n was awoken from a deep, terrifying slumber with animated shaking. “Wake the fuck up!” Mark bellowed. “What are you seeing?”

Y/n scrambled, sleep in their eyes. Mark was on top of things, scrambling for their paint palette and notebook. Y/n felt at them. Some terrified tears escaped their eyes as they scribbled roughly on the notebook paper. Mark was silent and watched carefully as Y/n drew, their gaze staring up fearfully and unknowingly making direct eye contact with Mark.

Y/n suddenly dropped the paint brush and panted. “This. I saw this.”

Y/n handed the notebook over. Some time had passed; according to Mark, they had rationed well, and a week or so had passed. Trust had formed between the two of them. Sometimes, Y/n dreamt and they drew. But based on the violence in their head, Mark must have known something was especially wrong with this one. Y/n often woke up with the sun, according to Mark, but Y/n had the sense that the sun was not up yet.

“I… hope I drew it right. I saw many, many people. A mob. They were walking down a road, dazed and enchanted. They’ve seen it.”

Mak analyzed the work intensely. He was still amazed at his comrade's ability and figured it would be his demise. But at least it kept him on his toes. It made for conversation, too. 

The image depicted rocky, cold, and dying terrain with stale grass and swamplands in the distance. A few abandoned, rotting cars were on a large, spacious road, which was covered in oddly detailed figures. The mob was walking, dazed, just as Y/n had described. The mob was thick, and despite their harmless and dumb expressions, they yielded weapons — anything from crowbars to hammers to guns. 

“That’s Dale. My coworker,” Mark stated, pointing to one of the figures. “We worked at the same local construction company for a while.”

“Local?”

“Local.”

The realization dawned on the pair. Mark examined the road further. “That same road. It’s the main road leading into town.”

“Fuck.”

“Do you know what that means? Why are they coming here?” Mark inquired carefully, perturbed by the situation.

“They’re… coming for me, I think. It won’t take a genius to realize that I moved. Please, we have to go somewhere else —“

“Jesus, I get it. Let’s pack what we can. We can go out to back. And, Y/n, I want you to wear this blindfold. Just in case.”

[megamindsecretlair]

In Need of Love

Pairing: Kane x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Use of n-word. PIV, oral (fem receiving) cursing, hella dirty talk, Daddy kink, teasing, all consensual. Established relationship. Reader is pregnant. Mentions of abortion and non-inclusive language. No spoilers for the show.

Summary: A wonderful ask from @luvvforanimatedmen. What would happen if you confessed you were pregnant to Kane?

Word Count: 3,382k

A/N: So sorry this took forever, love! My brain don't be braining sometimes! Thanks for the ask and the support. Whew. Something about that man just gets me going. Please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! I block ageless blogs.

Taglist: @planetblaque @browngirldominion @dayjlovesromance @flydotty @eggnox @blackerthings @hopelessdisasterr @sevikasblackgf @wide-nose-and-wonderful @monaeesstuff @notapradagurl7 @lovedlover @darkskinchristiandiorpostergirl @slippinninque @henneseyhoe @amyhennessyhouse @miyuhpapayuh @theyscreamsannii

You were not the type to pace, but here you were pacing the living room. Kane said he would be home soon and he rarely broke a promise. If he did, he always fixed it with his dick anyway. If only that man knew…

He thought he could solve all of your problems with a roll in the sheets. Truthfully, you started shit on purpose just for him to give you that look. That warning look. The look that told you that you had gone too far now and he would have to set you right.

You shivered as you paced. This was exactly how ya’ll ended up in this situation. You couldn’t bring yourself to blame him entirely. With everything going on, you didn’t think to pay attention to your period. The stress of the last few weeks had taken its toll on the both of you. 

You barely had chances to take some of that stress off of Kane. Quick rub and tucks, eating you out here, bustin’ one inside you there. When you confirmed earlier this morning with a test, you weren’t sure how to feel.

You stared at that damn test for possibly hours, as you worked through a gamut of emotions. Were you happy? Maybe? The good Lord knew that you and Kane didn’t have the best childhoods. Which Black people did these days? 

With everything going on involving the business, this wasn’t the best time to bring a child into this world. But the thought of getting rid of it without even telling Kane…you somehow couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Kane was always making decisions without you, but you knew he wouldn’t forgive you if you took this one out of his hands. 

You pictured having a son that looked just like his ass. And would probably get in just as much trouble. You feared for the type of world he’d be living in. If he would even see his twenty-first birthday. Hell, if Kane would live to see it too. 

Where the fuck was he? 

Kane’s slow steps approached the door. The turn of the lock finally halted your steps, turning to face the front door. 

“Hey, little mama,” he said.

If only he knew… Nerves bubbled in your stomach. A stomach now carrying a little boy or girl. Or was it too soon to think that? 

As Kane closed the door behind him, saying goodbye to his boys, your hands came around to hug your middle. There were too many mixed emotions about this and you were freaking the fuck out! 

Kane shuffled over to you and gave you a funny look. “What you standing in the middle of the floor for? Miss me that much?” He asked. He smirked and kissed your cheek. 

“I have something to tell you,” you said. You were too nervous to reach for more kisses like you usually did when he came home and you weren’t pissed about something. You swore. Kane was the only one who both raised your blood pressure and calmed it down. 

“Got anything to do with you leaving the house without someone to look after you?” He asked. 

“Who fuckin’ snitched?” You were gonna tear they little asses up. You couldn’t do shit without someone reporting it back to Kane. Like you were the fuckin’ child around here. 

Kane only smiled. He kissed your forehead and grabbed your hand, pulling you to come sit with him on the recliner. He liked making you sit on his lap, but you needed to see his face. Needed to gauge his reaction to the news. Were you hoping that he’d be happy? Sad? Pissed? If he were pissed, you’d kick his ass. It takes two to make a fuckin’ baby.

“You know that they work for me, right?” He asked.

You pulled yourself away from him. It was too tempting to sit on his lap and soak up some of his strength. Too tempting to get lost in the feel of his body.

“I can leave my house if I want to, Kane. Alone,” you said. 

He fluffled out the black sweatshirt he wore. His legs were spread wide and you forcefully dragged your eyes away from his crotch. Again, this was how you ended up in this situation.

“We already talked about that. There’s too much going on without me havin’ to worry about you being safe,” Kane said.

“I’ll be fine,” you said, dismissing him. You were a homebody on your best day. You left the house to go to work, maybe some partying with friends, but you were always right back in bed. People hardly knew Kane had a lady and that’s how he liked to keep it. 

“Baby–” 

You waved your hand. “Kane, stop,” you said.

“Come on, how would I feel if I let something happen to you?” 

“Shut up, Kane. Listen–” 

“The fuck is wrong now? What’s with the attitude?” Kane asked. He leaned back in his seat and tilted his head. He opened his mouth to continue off on some tangent about keeping you safe, no doubt. 

“I’m tryin’ to tell yo’ stupid ass that I’m pregnant!” You stomped your foot. Shit. This wasn’t how you pictured telling him. Nothing was ever easy with this nigga. He was the definition of an immovable force. He moved when he wanted to move. He spoke when he wanted to speak. And once he had an idea in his head…

You rubbed your forehead. An ache pulsed behind your right eye. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at his face now. You hadn’t intended to drop the bomb quite like that. Anyone would be shocked, angry, surprised–

Kane’s lips crashed into yours. You made an oomph sound as he wrapped his hands around your waist and pulled you closer. He was biting and nibbling on your bottom lip until you opened up for him. His tongue delved inside. Kissing you passionately, desperately. 

His hands traveled from your waist to your face. His rough fingers dragged along your skin, bare from your tank top, and your sweatpants. His massive hands squeezed your cheeks as he kissed you roughly. 

“Kane!” You somehow whispered between you. 

He opened his eyes and the love pouring out of him was a tangible thing. It wrapped around you like the softest, warmest blanket on the coldest night. “I’m gon’ be a daddy?” 

You bit your lip. Your face was still cradled in his hands. There was only a few inches of space between you. You nodded and his grin was infectious.

“You makin’ me a daddy?” He leaned back to look at your tummy. As if he could already see life growing there. It was no bigger than a peanut at this time, but from the look on his face, you were already the size of a mack truck. 

Kane slowly got to his knees. “Kane…”

He lifted your tank top and kissed your belly. Tears sprung to your eyes. You looked away from the tender look on his face. ‘Soft’ was never uttered in the same sentence as Kane. And yet, that’s how he looked. Completely smitten with the idea of his baby.

“I can’t wait to meet you,” he said.

“God…” Now you were really crying. Tears sprung from your eyes, the little traitorous bastards. You were expecting a lot of things. You had plenty of time today to think about his reactions. Happy was in there sure, but you never imagined this. 

“Don’t cry, little mama,” Kane whispered. He got back to his feet slowly. He brought your hands to his lips and kissed each of your knuckles. He pulled you closer, kissing both of your cheeks. He kissed both of your eyelids. “Mother to my child.” 

When he said it, it sounded magical. Whimsical. It sounded like you were an ordinary couple somewhere, where race didn’t matter, and you could be excited about raising a child together. No strings attached. 

“So…you’re not mad?” You asked slowly. It was right before your eyes, but you had a hard time trusting it. Believing it. You needed more confirmation. 

“Mad? This is the best news you could have ever given me.” His raspy voice was the balm you needed on your nerves. You melted against him, wrapping your arms around him. He hugged you back, holding on for dear life, and rocked you back and forth. 

He leaned back so he could kiss you again. His soft lips ignited something beneath your skin. His hands roamed your body once more as if he couldn’t decide where he wanted to grab you. 

Finally, his big hand came to rest on your belly. “My baby’s in there?” He asked. His quiet question was in danger of making you melt. 

“Yup,” you said with a nod. “Your child is in there.” You’d been feeling gross and heavy the past few weeks. You chalked it up to stress. The nausea was just something bad you ate. 

When you thought about it, you couldn’t remember your last period. You tried counting and then it dawned on you. Stupid. You went to the store without one of his little worker niggas following you around like a lost puppy. Some things women needed to do on their own.

Kane grinned but then it turned sinister right before your eyes. “What you lookin’ at me like that for?” 

“Come on,” he said. He grabbed your hand and pulled you deeper into the house. He marched towards your bedroom, forcing you to keep up with his long ass strides.

“Kane!” A laugh escaped you. It was hard keeping up with Kane sometimes. He was so damn unpredictable. To everyone else, he was some stone cold OG who still believed in rules and respect. He didn’t tolerate bullshit. Didn’t have time for it. With you, he was still an asshole, but at least he was a considerate one. 

“I want some twins,” he said. He stopped and pulled off his sweatshirt and t-shirt in one go. Your tank went next. 

You laughed at his enthusiasm. “Um, I’m pretty sure you know that’s not how it works,” you said. 

His eyes were fixated on your chest. He palmed your breasts, lifting them up, and testing their weight. His thumbs brushed over your nipples. You hissed. “Careful, they a little sensitive today,” you said.

“Yeah?” He licked his lips and watched you as his lips wrapped around your left nipple. Your back bowed as you moaned. The shits were sensitive as hell. His tongue flitted over your nipple. It somehow felt good? Like he was soothing the ache with his tongue. Damn him. Everything he did felt good. 

His fingers deftly worked on your sweatpants, releasing the tie, and shoving your pants down to your ankles. He walked you backwards, tripping over the fabric. “Kane!” You laughed and slapped at his shoulders. 

“You right. You carrying precious cargo now,” he said around your nipple.

“Corny ass,” you said. 

He chuckled as he bent down a bit to help disentangle your legs from your sweats. When you were completely naked, he pushed you down onto the bed. You groaned. You just washed these sheets.

“I’ll wash it,” he said when you told him.

“Yeah, aiight,” you said.

He grinned because he knew damn well that you were the one who was going to wash the sheets. You wouldn’t trust that mu’fucka at the laundromat to save his life. If he could point to where the soap went, your name was Susie. 

Kane stood over you. He rubbed your thighs, your knees, your calves, until spreading you open. Of course you were already wet for him. He looked at your glistening folds with a renewed hunger. 

“My baby,” he whispered. He climbed onto the bed and made you scoot up. Then, he settled in between your legs and licked your pussy.

“Kane!” You screamed. 

“Tasting so damn good. Who said you could?” He asked. He trapped your legs in the crook of his arms and spread you wider. 

Fuck, your pussy ached while he returned to eating you out. He swirled his tongue lazily around your clit. Fresh arousal gushed out of you. Kane hummed in satisfaction, bringing his fingers to your entrance and dipping a finger inside.

You bit your lip and moaned. A second finger entered you and you shivered. All the while, his tongue did devilish things to your pussy. With every swipe, he was pulling the orgasm out of you. The pace of his fingers increased. “Shit, shit, shit,” you moaned.

“Go on and give it up, little mama,” he said. 

Almost on command, your orgasm rocked you to the core. It was as if you had been tossed in the middle of the ocean during a storm. You didn’t know which way was up or down. You could only let it roll over you and pray for the best. Kane bit the inside of your thigh. 

“I can’t wait today,” he said. He climbed up your body, leaving wet kisses all over your skin. He left a trail of your arousal until he was lined up with you. He hadn’t even taken off his shorts yet.

He merely pushed them down far enough to free himself. No teasing. No preamble. He just dragged the tip of his dick along your slit, coating himself. Then he shoved inside on one hard push. 

“Fuck!” You managed to breathe around the size of him. All these years together, you were still amazed by his size. That all the sex you had didn’t completely mold you around him by now.  

Kane dropped his weight on you, sliding his rock hard body against your soft one. He dropped to his elbows to support his weight. He looked into your eyes while he began to rock himself. Sliding in and out on a gentle glide. 

You gasped for air as you felt every solid inch of his dick. Every vein rubbed against your fluttering walls. The head of his dick searched inside of you and you hoped it never found whatever it sought. You didn’t want this moment to end. 

Kane kissed your neck as he moved his hands to capture yours. Your fingers intertwined as he held you close. 

“You havin’ my baby,” he said. The grin returned. You stared into his beautiful brown eyes. Once more, tears sprang to your eyes. You hoped that this wasn’t going to be a side effect of having a kid. You were not a person who cried at the drop of a hat.

You stared at each other. Interspersed with kisses against your neck and cheek, Kane’s lips lingered on yours. 

“You’re going to be so beautiful carryin’ my child,” he said. 

You laughed. “You always call me beautiful.” You matched his soft tone. There was nothing but the two of you there. Encased in your own bubble, as close as two people could possibly be. He couldn’t get any closer, but he was for sure trying it as he seemed to go deeper with every stroke. 

“I mean that shit. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Sometimes I gotta catch myself from cheesin’ all day,” he said. 

You grinned and kissed him. You just loved the way his lips fit against yours. The way he slid easily within you. Literally made for each other. Forever. “I love you,” you said. 

“I love you,” Kane said. 

“Shit,” you moaned as an orgasm snuck up on you. It rose like a lone wave on a sandy shore, washing over you and taking you with it. The pleasure was insane. Unnameable. Still, Kane kept fucking you. Moving by some unseen force to stay buried inside of you. 

He dropped his head and groaned. Your pussy filled with his warm cum, mixing with your arousal and creating a giant mess beneath you. 

He kept moving. As if he wasn’t the one in control anymore. As if neither one of you were. You rose to meet his thrusts. You shared a moan as he seemed to sink deeper, hitting your G-spot and causing you to moan louder.

“Music to my fuckin’ ears,” he whispered in your ear. 

He targeted that spot, hitting it over and over. “Can’t wait to see you swollen with my baby. So fuckin’ gorgeous. I don’t know how I’ma keep my hands off of ya,” he said. 

Your thighs burned from shaking so badly. The spot he hit was buried so deep inside of you, you half wondered if he truly was trying to give you twins. 

“Mhm, glowing and shit with yo pretty ass,” he whispered in your ear. 

Your head flopped to the side. This was too much. Entirely too much. Another orgasm arose, stealing the remainder of your breath. Your eyes turned watery toward the ceiling. You shook as Kane talked you through it. 

“That’s it. Felt every bit of that one. Doin’ so good for me.” The rasp of his voice was like a vice grip around your heart. 

He leaned up, still pumping inside of you. He let go of one of your hands to wrap it around your throat and push your head up. Your hand gripped his wrist. 

“This gon’ be one of the last times I get to do this,” he said. 

“Nuh-uh,” you moaned, shaking your head. “You can choke me, Daddy.” 

You hissed as he slipped and shoved in deeper with a hard thrust. ‘Daddy’ took on an entirely new meaning now. He was going to be a daddy. A daddy to a life you created together in love. 

“Careful, girl. I almost nutted again,” he reprimanded you. 

You laughed. “That’s what I want…Daddy,” you moaned.

Kane lifted an eyebrow at you. He still had your head tilted back so that was really all you saw before his thrusts sped up. You squeezed his other hand as he fucked into you harder and harder.

The bed squeaked and groaned under your combined weight. Your pussy squelched as he unloaded inside of you. Like the thickest mac n’ cheese noises on Thanksgiving. He groaned as he came. 

A man possessed, he continued to pound your pussy. “One more, baby. One more,” he moaned as he continued to fuck you. 

“I c-c-can’t…” You whined. His hand moved down to roughly grab your titty and suckle it into his mouth. Your hand flew to his head, trying to push him off. Couldn’t he see that he was breaking you in half? 

The mix of sweet and sinful was too much for you to bear. Too much to contain in your body. It needed to be let out, away from you, no more. But your jaw was wired shut as you only continued to moan and rub his head. 

Your hand gripped the back of his neck as you came one more time, shaking with the effort. It was like you were being ripped apart from the inside out. That some great beast had split you open, scooped you out, and tossed the rest. You screamed with pleasure too big for you. Too much. 

You screamed for anyone to hear you. For his boys outside, the neighborhood, and the next one over. Kane rested his sweaty head against your chest as you twitched on the way down. He slipped out of you and you groaned from the loss of him. Cum slipped out after him. Well, it wasn’t like you could get pregnant twice.

He snuggled up next to you, dropping a leg over yours. He tucked you into his side, panting through kisses to your temple, cheek, lips. 

“My baby,” he said. You supposed that took on new meaning as well. 

You were both a sweaty and gross mess and you loved it. You snuggled into him and played with his stubble. 

“You gon’ be a daddy,” you said. You marveled at it. You allowed yourself to be happy about it. At a little version of him running around the house like a damn terror. Girl or boy, you just knew the mu’fucka was gonna come out like him. 

“You gon’ be a mama,” he said and kissed you. 

Yeah, you were gonna be a mama. Now that was a scary ass thought.

There's more Kane to love! The Secret Kane Files

[sunshineandspencer]

Coffee shop

A/N: I have never had an original experience, because every woman I’ve ever known has always wanted to run a mix of a coffee shop and a library/florists, I am no different. That isn’t what this fic is about, but I’ll take any chance to lament about my lack of funds for a coffee-floristry-library shop 😔😔😔

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader.

Summary: If Spencer Reid had a nickel for everytime he ran into someone on his daily routines that he believes might be a serial killer, he’d now have two nickels, which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it’s happened twice.

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: talking about blood(??), nothing really

I have redone the form for the taglist now that I’m apparently expanding from Criminal Minds

Spencer liked his routines. He’s invested a lot of time in developing a comfortable routine whenever work in Quantico goes for longer than usual. For whenever he’s home.

Part of that routine is treating himself to breakfast. Knowing damn well that he wouldn’t eat otherwise - the toaster is his mortal enemy and has been unplugged since he moved into his apartment, refusing to repeat the mistake that lost him his favourite mug.

He sampled a lot of coffee shops that are close to his apartment, not wanting to walk further than 10 minutes away just for a decent cup of coffee and some breakfast. Until, finally, he found the one that fit his very specific - and not at all autistic - guidelines for what he needed, finding himself pushing that door open at 07:09 everyday he’s home.

‘Virgin’s Coffee House’, probably a little too on the nose considering he’s.. himself, but the owner explained that it was actually ‘Virginia’s Coffee House’ until these two kids stole the letters four separate times and the owner just gave up. Accepting their fate.

That specific time, too, was well tested to get just the right moment. 07:09.

Just quiet enough that he’s comfortable but not suffocated by an overwhelming silence, they have a gentle radio choice that he adored, excellent warm pastries, and in those early hours his little space was permeated with a soft floral scent, the notes of which are heavenly.

Then, of course, being a man with an eidetic memory, his brain swiftly catalogued the regulars that he would see every single time he visited, the NPCs to his daily routine.

There’s the man who drops his girlfriend - the barista - off to work, the man who is always hunched over his laptop by the window and is seemingly constantly perplexed at the sun slipping through the blinds he pulls down. The owner that ignores her barista ‘sneaking’ free pastries to her boyfriend to go and smoke out back, and the woman that is somehow always directly ahead of him in the queue.

For a while, and because of her consistency with it, he wondered if she might wait somewhere to spot him coming, and then dart into the shop to get ahead of him. A thought he quickly dismissed as crazy, and one only a profiler would get to a conclusion with. Settling with the answer that they just have similar routines.

He has some sense of her job, from the lanyard usually haphazardly shoved into her bag, and the clothes she wore. But he isn’t the kind of person to just strike up conversations with women - hell, anyone.

Until today.

On her hip, over the top of her very pretty, sage sundress, she had a handprint. A small, child-sized handprint in, what he was hoping, was paint. Dark red.. dried paint. Right.

Tapping her shoulder, it clearly surprised her that her own routine was broken from the usual quiet queue for her coffee, although she turned to him with a confused smile. This action, merely turning to face him, immediately gave him the revelation that the pretty floral scent he keeps coming back for is her.

Quickly smiling back and pointing down at her hip, going for blissfully unaware rather than alerted FBI agent.

“Hallowe’en in September?”

Nice, casual question, not at all giving away the inner screaming of Jesus Christ, don’t let this beautiful woman be a murderer.

Keeping his eyes on her face to see what kind of reaction she has, as she looks down. Tugging at the fabric so she could see it clearly, tutting softly and immediately worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Oh.. yeah, that looks worse than it did yesterday.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. He’s found a serial killer. In his coffee shop. How the hell does this keep happening to--

“What about this one, I haven’t even tried to get it off yet because we’re doing more today.”

Pulling the skirt of her dress back to normal to show him a neon orange - slightly smaller - handprint on her knee, like a child had smacked her leg with a handful of paint.

Which, thankfully, confirmed his previous assumption that she works in Kindergarten.

“That’s very uhm.. well.”

He tried to say something nice, but the longer he searched and shuffled through all the words in his brain, the brighter her smile got. And the more nervous he got about saying the wrong thing to this genuinely really pretty woman. Christ, he’s making himself look like an idiot.

Coming to his rescue, before he started spewing out Shakespearean compliments because that’s all his brain could focus on, she waved with a softly dismissive hum.

“Don’t worry, I know it’s not really my colour. Some of the kids took ‘paint your teacher’ a little too literal. But it’s only their first week so I’m letting it slide.”

Now that the fear of her being a serial killer is gone, he’s left with the brutal realisation that she’s beautiful. Which, unfortunately means that acknowledgement of her looks causes his brain to stop working. Beautiful women, as Emily has eloquently stated, slash his IQ to 60.

“You- You work with children?”

Thankfully, she doesn’t seem to mind his sudden stutter, or that he’s unconsciously fiddling with his tie. Only smiling brighter, despite him now being apparently unable to get a full sentence out compared to before.

“Yeah! Real young kids, who haven’t learnt that paint goes on their paper and not the teacher, not yet anyway. Why? That handprint make you think I was a murderer?” She was clearly teasing, but his flushed cheeks and averted gaze told her the truth. “Oh my God you did.”

Her jaw dropped and she didn’t look away from him as they shuffled up the queue, from where he was desperately trying to explain.

Searching his bag, diving into it really, to try and find his badge to prove who he is. This is the first time he’s ever felt genuine hatred for his messenger bag, everything just falling in the way of his ID that would prove that he’s not crazy, he’s just insanely observant.

Finding it with a breathless laugh and holding it out to her, giving a pleadingly nervous smile.

“I’m- I work for the FBI! The Behavioural Analysis Unit, I catch serial killers and, well, it looked--”

He just gestured again to the dark red paint dried into the fabric of her dress. Terrified he’d ruined this interaction by assuming incorrectly.

But she just laughed, and not at all insulted or upset like he thought, just seemingly amused by the whole thing. Hand falling back to the print, thumbing at the dried paint, some flakes falling to the floor between them before being swept away by the wind from the open door.

“It’s okay, I knew it didn’t look great, but catching the attention of an FBI agent? I’ll take it.”

Still stumbling over his words, he desperately looks for the right thing to say, wanting to get the mush in his brain out to apologise again and again. Something about her smile made him want to reassure her a hundred times over.

“Not that, of course, you look anything like a serial killer. Although female serial killers are, usually, far better at hiding that they are killers, and are actually called silent killers. So even if you were, you seem way too smart to leave a handprint on your dress. Not- that I’m saying you would know how to be a murderer, but I just- I had to make sure--”

“Really, it’s alright, uh..” looking down, she runs her fingers over his name before handing his ID badge back, “Spencer, really. It’s a nice thought, knowing I have such observant agents in my area. Makes me feel.. safe.”

And not a hint of sarcasm, paired with a genuine smile. Her name was called for a coffee and that split moment she turned away gave him a chance to react.

Hearing his name in her gently teasing voice had made his heart beat so damn hard against his chest he half expected to look down and see it beating out cartoonishly. Pressing the heel of his palm to the centre of his chest to try and calm down before she turned back around.

That smile still on her face when she did, her name written all pretty on her cup, and fitting her perfectly.

“Could you explain what the Behavioural Analysis Unit does? I’m still not sure.”

He went to open his mouth, happy to spew facts, knowing that’s his comfort zone more than anything else, and wanting to show that he can do more than word vomit whatever comes to the tip of his tongue first.

But she shakes her head, taking out her phone and tapping some things before handing it over to him. An empty contact page, except for the name which was already filled in with ‘Spencer (the cute coffee guy)’ at which his eyes darted back to hers, although his thumbs were already putting in his number.

“How about tomorrow? About six-forty?”

Handing back the phone after checking the number, and replying with a breathy ‘yeah’, at which she smiled and walked past him. His own name getting called for his coffee, but not turning to get it until she left the shop.

When she turned to look back at him with a small wave, he knew he was absolutely done for wherever this woman is concerned.

“I’ll see you tomorrow Spencer. Six-forty, it’s a date, don’t be late.” Slipping out so that he could take that in himself, not actually moving until his name gets called for the fourth time, and the barista throws a balled up napkin at him. A daft smile on his face as he whips out his phone to text Garcia all about the date he’s going on tomorrow morning.

Want more?! Good!

taglist ( ˘ ³˘)♥ @peliides ║ @peachsodameg ║ @angelinajolie0213 ║ @jiggly-puff-12 ║ @khxna ║ @kennedy2156 ║ @trulycayla ║ @none-of-your-bullshit ║ @alexxavicry ║ @meg-black ║ @princess76179 ║ @chicken-fifi ║ @averyhotchner ║ @punkyghoulz ║ @person-005 ║ @aaronlovesava ║ @Optimisticsandwichgladiator ║ @cultish-corner ║ @xox0_emma ║ @whatyagottado ║ @wonderland2425 (if your tag is here and not working check out this reblog to see if any of it could hopefully help!!)

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

sexual assault and rape tw

I'm 22 years old and I've been having some trouble with the discovery that I have a rape fetish. I've known since 2022 but I still feel intense shame about it and there's so many things about it that scare me. I've also been wondering if there's a way to just stop feeling anything sexual? that'd save me some trouble bc then I wouldn't have to think about this ever again

I'm a bi woman. I only figured out I'm bisexual last year and before that I thought I was a lesbian. but then I learned how to masturbate and I realized men were a part of my fantasies — I was in denial for a long time and even thinking about being with a guy would make me feel despair and cry for hours back then. I still feel bad about it nowadays but at least I'm not in denial anymore. I've never had trouble understanding that I like women and whenever I fantasize about women I don't feel negative emotions during or after masturbation (even if I end up fantasizing about rape). but when I fantasize about men I always feel upset afterwards and my fantasies with men are *always* about rape/sexual assault. I don't feel a lot of attraction to men's bodies, I just feel attracted to the idea of them sexually assaulting me or raping me, y'know? so even in my fantasies with guys I never think too much about their body. actually, I prefer it if the guy is super old and I don't feel any positive emotions about him

in hindsight my attraction to men is definitely tied to sexual trauma. since I was a child (and specially when I was a child) I've been sexually assaulted by boys and adult men. they'd touch my genitals and make me touch their genitals or hold me in place without letting me go. there was also the usual butt slapping. I even forgot about what happened with a specific old man for some time when I was 9. when I finally remembered what happened and told my parents about it they acted as if it were my fault and I had wanted it. but, like, no actual rape happened. so is this even enough for a rape fetish to develop?

and my experience with f/m couples during childhood was pretty bad – I remember thinking that women were like servants and needed to be submissive. I tried asking my mom about it when I was 10 but she just got angry at me and told the rest of my family I was asking about inappropriate things and accusing me of wanting to do inappropriate things

I think all of these experiences are the reason I started having rape fantasies (well, I suppose they were just sexual assault fantasies back then) with men as a child (I remember the first ones starting when I was 7 and they kept happening up until I was 10). I remember thinking that it was how it worked and how it's meant to be for women. I'd feel disgusted afterwards and eventually, in my early teen years, I stopped thinking about this altogether. I didn't know what any of it meant but it made me uncomfortable so I didn't think about it at all for years. but then I learned how to masturbate when I was 20 and I had to force myself to think about everything that happened bc I needed to understand why my brain works the way it does. it seems pretty obvious in hindsight but it took me a long time to understand what all of it meant

anyway. I keep thinking about maybe trying something with a guy to see how it turns out bc everytime I think about liking men my mind just goes back to assault/rape, but perhaps that's something I need to heal from? and does all of this mean I like to be assaulted? it feels so good when I'm fantasizing about it that I get scared about how I'd react if it happened irl. I keep wondering if I would I like it too and if this means I liked being sexually assaulted as a child? and sometimes I get excited when I think about *actually* putting myself in a dangerous situation with a guy I don't know. I'm scared (but also excited by the thought) that one day I will actually do it.

tbh I wish I could just like vanilla stuff. or just not feel sexual attraction at all

hi anon,

you've given me so much to work with here and I am DELIGHTED, so let's take this bit by bit, answering your questions/curiosities in order as much as possible.

generally no, there's not really a way to turn off sexual feelings. a lot of people find that they get supremely un-horny on antidepressants or other mood stabilizers, but that's a side effects that's hardly guaranteed. the most reliable option would probably be a lobotomy, but that's a bit drastic so let's not do that.

this is a bit beside the point, and I certainly can't tell you what to call yourself, but if you'd rather be a lesbian you can absolutely be that. there's a huge difference between liking the idea of a very specific type of sexual situation with a fictional man and actually being attracted to real men, and it really doesn't sound like actual living breathing real men hold any particular allure for you. I know this isn't the biggest issue her by a longshot, but I do just want to say you can absolutely call yourself a lesbian if calling yourself bisexual isn't sparking joy. the only truth is what feels best to you.

there's no such thing as "enough rape" for something to traumatize you; any amount of sexual assault is sexual assault (and your parents are shitheels for implying that you, a child, were somehow responsible for that, btw). and while there's no quantifying how much assault is enough to "count," it's worth pointing out that exactly none is required to "justify" a kink - there are people with rape fantasies who will never experience a single act of nonconsensual violence in their lives, and that's just as fine as people who eroticize sexual violence in response to their own trauma. being horny is a morally neutral act.

at a guess I would say no, this probably doesn't mean you like to be assaulted; very few people do. and no, it certainly doesn't mean you enjoyed being assaulted as a child. even if you did enjoy some aspects of whatever was done to you, that's a.) beyond your control; arousal isn't a process that needs your permission to occur. lots of people orgasm while being sexually assaulted, which certainly doesn't mean it wasn't assault and b.) that does not in any way mean that the person or people who hurt you are absolved from blame for abusing their power over a child.

listen: even people who do enjoy getting roughed up or hurt in some capacity generally have to do at least a bare bones negotiation and provide some level of consent to get there, meaning it is fundamentally different from someone jumping out of the bushes to assault you like a villain of the week on SVU. I really enjoy getting tattoos, but I'd be understandably horrified if someone tackled me on the street to start sticking needles in my body without permission. likewise, a great deal of BDSM enthusiasts would be extremely unhappy to be flogged or whipped without warning by someone they didn't agree to do that with. context is everything, and the ability to control your scenario really, really matters. (I just said a little bit more about that here.)

if you do want to explore consensual nonconsent IRL, please emphasize the consensual part - find a sexual partner who understands how to negotiate a scene and with whom you can negotiate boundaries and opt-outs ahead of time, rather than a stranger you genuinely don't feel safe with.

[nmakii]

Hi!! I saw that you’re taking Hazbin requests and was wondering if I could request one!😊 I’d love to request an Angel Dust x gn!reader oneshot where Angel doesn’t have anyone to watch Fat Nuggets for him while he’s at work, but reader feels bad and offers to help him out? This is set before they’re dating, like reader really likes Angel (pretty much crushing on him) but doesn’t feel like Angel notices them much, so in an effort to put themselves out there, they volunteer to help, especially since they know how much Fat Nuggets means to Angel. Angel is a bit hesitant at first, not knowing how qualified they really are to take care of his baby, but he sees how sincere they are in taking on this responsibility, so to put them to the test, he agrees. Of course, Nuggs is a little mischievous at first, but instantly warms up to reader☺️

Later on, Angel comes back and sees how well reader and Nuggs are getting along and he’s just all soft and mushy at how adorable they are😍 Angel’s known about reader’s crush on him for a while and would always playfully tease them about it, thinking that it was just because they were a fan, but seeing this, he can’t help but notice how caring and sweet reader really is😍 and if Nuggs likes them enough, then that says a lot. In the end, Angel thanks them and in true Angel Dust fashion, suggests that they should get to have their own “play date” next time😏😉 in which reader is all flustered and is thinking “fuck… I didn’t expect to get this far”😳 but Angel laughs, eating up their reaction, saying that he’s just teasing and would genuinely like to get to know reader more. And then they share a really cute, fluffy moment (with Angel giving a little cheek kiss😘) in the end💕💕💕

I’m so sorry this is insanely long!! My brain got carried away and went off but if you’re willing to write this request, I would absolutely appreciate it! If not, no worries!! Thank you love!!🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

YOUR IVY GROWS, NOW I’M COVERED IN YOU

— falling in love can make you do silly things. especially when it’s angel dust you’re falling for.

— i get it Y/N. i did the exact same thing (i j bought him cup noodles and i gotta chill out) happy birthday to me and angel hehe!

“fuck me..” angel groaned out. “isn’t that what’s about to happen..?” husk raised his eyebrow at angel. “hah!” angel rolled his eyes at husk’s joke. “val wants me to head to the studio… something about dick fight island or whatever…” he scrunched his face at the corny plots valentino wrote. “hey, whiskers! can ‘ya take care ‘a fat nuggets till i’m back?” angel asked, keeping fat nuggets close to his body.

“ah… angel, ‘ya mind if i take care of him?” you asked, heart racing as you did. “i…i mean husk is kinda busy with manning the bar… ‘n i don’t have much to do, so i could take care of him!” you explained, hands fidgeting as you nervously looked angel in the eye.

“eh…” angel thought for a second. your explanation was logical, but you and him were not as close as say, angel and husk. “shit, fine. why the hell not? i trust ‘ya.” he shrugged.

he looked down at fat nuggets, wondering what might happen when he’s gone, before hesitantly handing him over. fat nuggets squeals a bit under your care, feistily wiggling around in your arms.

angel laughed as he watched you struggle to keep fat nuggets still. “haha! hope you can deal with him. anyways, i gotta head out now.” he frowned before pinching you on the nose and leaving.

in all honesty, fat nuggets was not much of a problem. he was affectionate and not at all messy. all you had you do was feed and tend to his grooming.

when angel returned, he found you and fat nuggets fast asleep on the couch of the leisure room. your arms cradle him as fat nuggets’ hooves rest on your shoulders, all while having a blanket over you.

the two of you looked so sweet, as if a parent with their child. angel almost didn’t want to wake you up. almost.

you forget that this is angel dust.

angel reached a claw under your jaw and started tickling you until you woke up. “mornin’, sleeping beauty!” angel grinned as fat nuggets climbed his way into angel’s arms.

“aww… did’ya miss me, nuggs?” angel smiled, petting fat nuggets. he looked up to see you blushing from you and angel’s close proximity to each other. angel only grins. “what’s up? never got close enough before?”

“no! it’s nothing.” you said, moving your eyes to anywhere but angel’s. he shrugs it off. “thanks a lot again, i appreciate it.” he smiled, his eyes showing a moment of genuine gratitude. “ya’know… next time, i could leave nuggs with good ‘ol whiskers, then you and i could have… a playdate of our own?” he smirked, pushing his forehead against yours while placing his lower set of hands on your waist.

you froze under angel’s touch, brain trying to think of a response. angel simply laughs, eating up your reaction to his advances. “i’m just teasin’! it’ll be a long time before i let ‘ya touch me anywhere. chill, will ‘ya?” he grinned.

“but, if you’re interested…” he starts. “i wouldn’t mind a dinner tomorrow.” he grinned, winking as if to tempt you even further.

you thought to yourself before speaking “ah, sure..! what you say dinner at 7? i’ll meet you down here.” you said. “‘ya betcha. i’ll see you tomorrow then, babycakes.” angel smiled, peppering your face with kisses before he returned to his room, fat nuggets in hand.

[samgirl98]

Mending a Family 43/?

Prev | Next

If Tim had a nickel for every time a feral child held a League of Assassin weapon to his throat, he’d have two nickels. Which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice. What was his life even?

“I won’t let you take my dad away from me,” the little kid, Danny, yelled. His eyes were glowing like Jason’s would when he was angry. Oh boy.

Tim dodged the erratic slash of the knife.

“Hey, I’m not here to take away—whoa, watch it!”

Tim barely dodged a slash to his stomach that would’ve had his guts spilled to the floor.

“Daniel James Fenton, put that knife down, now!”

Jazz appeared out of nowhere and snatched the knife from Danny’s hands.

“This isn’t a toy! You could’ve hurt Tim.”

“That’s the point,” the little boy said while glaring at Tim with green eyes. Tim shuddered; if looks could kill, Tim would be a dead man.

“Now give it back, you fink!”

The little boy levitated, trying to get the knife that Jazz had put out of reach. The little boy was meta.

“What’s going on here,” Jason asked. His hair was ruffled, and his clothes were rumpled.

“Your son tried to kill Tim.”

“He’s trying to take you away from us!”

Jason’s firm expression softened, “Danny, lad, I told you last night. I’m not leaving you. Nobody can make me leave you, Jazz, or Ellie. I promise.”

Danny’s lips started wobbling. Suddenly, Tim felt like a dick (Sorry, big bird.) even though the kid had tried to kill him. How was that fair?

“I don’t want you to leave. I don’t want to leave our haunt.”

“I promise, chum, I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you.” Tim believed Jason.

Danny hugged Jason and clung to his leg while glaring daggers at Tim. Tim felt very unsafe.

“Now, what did I tell you about using that knife without my permission or Jazz’s permission?”

Danny buried his face in Jason’s leg and mumbled.

“What was that?”

“To not use it.”

“Exactly. You took it out of the safe and were using it to hurt someone else. You know you’re gonna be punished for that, right?”

Danny glared at Tim again before nodding.

“Okay, Jazz and I will discuss it and decide later. Now, go get ready for school.”

“I don’t want to go to school,” Danny whined while crossing his arm over his chest, “you could leave while I’m gone. Or he can take you away from me.”

Tim scoffed, “As if I can make Jason do anything.”

“Quiet, fruit loop,” the kid yelled out. His hands started glowing green. Tim barely dodged the beam of light that was aimed at him. Where had stood was a steaming scorch mark. Yikes. Forget a knife. That was the least of Jason’s problems with this kid if he ever wanted to kill anyone.

“Danny, stop trying to kill Tim!”

Jason picked the kid up and took him to another room. Tim was left alone with Jazz. Suddenly, Tim wished for the murderous kid back. At least he knew how to deal with deadly children. He didn’t know how to deal with someone that could pick his brain apart. No wonder Bruce avoided therapy.

“I’m sorry about that. It’s hard for Danny to control his emotions even if he is technically sixteen.”

“It’s not a problem; he’s not the first one who’s tried to kill me—wait, what do you mean he’s sixteen?”

Jazz smiled, showing way too many teeth.

____

It took longer than he would like to admit, but Jason had been forced to compromise with Danny for the time being. He wouldn’t have to go to school that day, and Danny promised he’d stop trying to kill Tim and apologize. Why did Jason feel he’d gotten the short end of the stick?

Jason understood where Danny was coming from. He was scared Jason would disappear and leave him behind, but that was no excuse for attacking Tim.

Why did Jason suddenly feel like a hypocrite? Danny stared at Jason with a knowing look. He sighed. Sometimes, it was horrible that his son could read Jason’s emotions.

They left the room and found Jazz feeding Ellie. Tim was nibbling on a piece of a bagel while staring thoughtfully into space. A steaming cup of coffee was at his side.

“Danny, is there anything you have to say,” Jason prompted.

“Sorry for, y’know,” Danny gestured vaguely.

“Danny,” Jason said warningly.

“Ugh, fine! Sorry for trying to kill you! There, happy now?”

“Danny, that is not how we apologize,” Jazz said.

“‘Danny, that’s not how we apologize,’” he mocked his sister.

Tim stared at Danny, “Yeah, I can definitely see the teenager now.”

“You told him,” Danny asked, angry.

“Yep,” she said unrepented. Ellie smiled at Danny. Her mocking expression looked out of place on a toddler’s face.

“Whatever,” Danny said. He sat across from Tim and glared at him. Jason sighed. It was going to be a long day.

____

Tim hated to admit it, but domestic life looked good on Jason. He had observed the older man throughout the day. He was happier. His shoulders didn’t tense up, and he laughed—not a sardonic or mocking one, but one full of joy. Tim could tell that Jason adored Danny and doted on Ellie.

He carried the little girl everywhere. When Jazz left to go on a run, he played with her. She laughed and played peek-a-boo by disappearing and reappearing. Tim knew she had powers; Jazz had told him so, but it was a surprise to see it.

Tim digested everything Jazz had told him while watching as Jason tickled Ellie’s feet. Her peals of laughter echoed throughout the house. Danny continued to glare daggers at Tim. Tim felt prickles at the back of his neck the few times he turned his gaze away from the boy—teenager?—whatever.

Another dimension: de-aging, displacement, and finding a new family.

Watching Jason spend time with his new family, Tim knew he would never convince Jason to return to Gotham. Honestly, feeling the happiness surrounding the small family, Tim didn’t want to anymore. After all, Jason had left behind his old life and built something good for himself.

He had figured out to be happy, something Bruce and even Tim had yet to figure out. Hell, maybe the rest of the family, too.

That did leave one question in Tim’s mind: Where did that leave him and Bruce?

____

Jason wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he felt something in his chest tighten as he said goodbye to Tim. After all, here was a tie to his old family, and he was letting him go. A part of him almost felt like asking the baby bird to stay with them. To become a part of his new family.

He knew he couldn’t. Bruce would lose it if he lost one of his birds.

“I won’t tell Bruce where you are. He already forbade us to look for you. I don’t want to get chewed out.”

Tim gave a bitter smile.

“You built something great here. I’m sorry for intruding.”

Yes, Jason couldn’t let a part of his old life stay, not while it could compromise his new-found happiness.

“I know you don’t want to return to Gotham, but maybe, and I’m not saying you have to, but think about talking to Bruce.”

“I can’t, Timmy; what if he tries to take Danny away from me? What if he wants to send Ellie and Jazz away? What if—what if he sends me to Arkham?”

Tim said nothing, though Jason felt that he disagreed with him.

“Can you leave now,” Danny asked. He was still glaring at Tim. Jason sighed. His little boy really didn’t like Tim. Well, he guessed it took a while to warm up to the Replacement.

“Danny, stop that,” Danny turned his glare toward Jason, huffed, and then stomped into the house.

“Here, my number. Don’t give it to them, but you can text me.”

Tim nodded, memorized the number, and returned the paper to Jason.

“See you around, I guess.”

Tim turned and started walking toward his car before pausing.

“Before I forget, Alfred loved his birthday present.”

Jason followed Tim to his car. He got in and put the window down before whispering, “I won’t talk about your powers, either. Though I am curious.”

Jason stayed silent. He had hoped he hadn’t given any clues to Tim that he had powers now, but the little bastard was observant. He wondered what gave him away.

“Just so you know, I think Bruce would accept you the way you are, powers and all.”

He put up his window and turned on the car. Jason watched as his brother drove away.

@itsberrydreemurstuff @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @skulld3mort-1fan @theauthorandtheartist @emergentpanda-blog @jaggedheart11 @fisticuffsatapplebees @booberrylizard @fantasticbluebirdfan @thegatorsgooseoose @cyrwrites @kjoboo91 @crystallicedart @amaramizuki666 @spekulatiusmuffin @meira-3919 @kilasmess @bubblemixer @lexdamo @wonderland-daisy @mj-arts-n-stuff @amyheart19 @dolfay @the-church-grimm @undead-essence @aph-mable @lizisipancardo @purrloin77 @writer-extraodinaire @charlietheepic7 @sinfulloccultist @nootherusernameworked @coruscateselene @chaoticchange @itsberrydreemurstuff @gmkelz11 @feral-bunny31 @paroovian @thatonegaybitch68 @d4ydr34min9 @overtherose @fandomwandererer @vipower001 @thordottir45 @blackrabbitt3t @rosecinnamonbun @bianca-hooks123 @epilepticnerd @dat1angel @consouling @flamingenchiladadragon @all-mights-asscheeks @ender-reader @fuyu-bitch @ravenswife @randomafterthought

[driedpeanuts69]

STRANGERS IN THE NIGHT

pairing: tony stark x f!reader

summary: it’s 2013 and tony stark is receiving the backlash of the alien invasion on new york. constant anxiety attacks, the cruel thoughts of never been enough — until he met her.

warnings: mentions of anxiety attacks, but ultimately just fluff

This was ridiculous, so ridiculous, he knew it was ridiculous. He was Tony Stark — he wasn’t a child anymore, or a drunk-fuelled teenager. He can’t be acting like this when he is Iron Man, a hero of the people.

Yet, he was.

The heavy weight on his chest was non-stop and he wondered to whoever was listening on why this was happening to him. Why the drags of mental health had chipped away at his brain when really, he should be fine.

He wasn’t fine.

He hasn’t been fine since that day.

The air crushing feeling of dragging a nuke through a wormhole heading to space in just a titanium suit. He was only human after all, a selfless human deemed selfish despite his clear acts to prove otherwise.

He could feel tears resting at the corners of his brown eyes as his fingers laced together against his chest. Tony didn’t know where to go when the first anxiety attack hit, he just knew he needed fresh air.

It was early in the morning and no other Avenger’s in the new-appointed tower was awake or even aware that Tony was around. So, he left in a hurry down the elevator and sat in a staggered state on the first bench in the street.

Warm lights flickered from lampposts and the cold breeze of NYC’s weather sent goosebumps against his bare arms. Sometimes when he exhaled deeply, a cloud of cold air would leave.

But then, there was a presence. And it wasn’t harsh, or scary, or even sceptical. He just didn’t want to talk to anyone, especially fans. So he kept his eyes forward and untuned.

“Hey—“

Can I have your autograph?

“—are you alright?”

Tony’s lips fell agape, shocked and bewildered. He turned to his left and saw a woman looking down at him. She was the epitome of an angel. Soft locks of brown hair fell across her shoulders and the warm glow of lights created a halo above her perfect face.

Then she laughed, and he really thought he was in heaven.

“Hey,” she said again, clutching onto her jacket. “Tony, right?”

“Right.” She smiled, and there was something so exciting in her smile. “And you are?”

“Y/N.” God, her smile. “So, are you alright, Tony?”

There was a tiny switch in his brain bordering on the level if to share or not; he decided not to. But then the more he looked at her, the more his shell chipped away. There was something in her eyes that made her so inviting.

He was in trouble.

Serious trouble.

“Peachy.” He responded, flashing a grin. “What is a uh, pretty woman like you doing out here so late?”

She laughed — Lord help me — and sat down next to him. She crossed her legs and turned her body towards him and that was when he could get a really good look.

This woman beside him was in scrubs, blue with a great yellow sticker that said ‘visitor’. Her hair was pushed back with round-rimmed glasses with a brown hue and freckles adorned her face. She looked young, mature too.

“My shift just ended.” She checked the watch on her wrist. “Realistically, I should’ve finished at 5 but,” she just shrugged.

“You’re a nurse?”

She raised her brows and smirked, “Psychologist. I was sent in as a consultant but my patient had an emergency surgery. And then, well the rest would go against patient confidentiality.”

Tony bit his lower lip and grinned. “Very professional.” He then rolled his head along his shoulders and gave her a dazed stare. “And here I thought you was just a nurse, shame on me.”

“Shame on you.”

He grinned once more before looking back into the distance. His heart was steady now, there was no shaking — whatever layer of sweat he once had was dissipated. Maybe it was because she was a distraction (or a piece of heaven) but whatever it was, she helped. Somehow.

“Have you tried breathing exercises? It sounds stupid, but it works like a charm.”

Tony slowly looked back at her, brows raised and lips agape.

“For anxiety attacks, or panic attacks.” He gave her a questioning look so she smiled softly at him.

“How did you—“

“Know?” She pointed at him. “I have a PhD in psychology. And, I used to get them terribly when I was younger.”

He chuckled. “Of course.”

“And… not to say I’m observant or anything but, well—“ She reached over and swiped the skin under his eye. Gentle, soft — a touch like no other. Tony practically melted into it. “You was crying.”

“That’s a tug to my masculinity.” He chuckled. “Thank you, Doc.”

She smiled once more and followed his stare to the emptiness in front of him. Quiet, alone, together. Tony can’t remember the last time he was near someone at his lowest, not like this at least. Not a stranger who stepped in through the night and blessed him with hands so soft and words so sweet.

“You’re too kind.” He stated, like it was a fact so strong it was hard to say otherwise. “That can get you in trouble.”

She nervously bit her lip and murmured something under her breath. “Trouble? Maybe. But sometimes people need it, need to know there’s more to this world than hate and war.”

Tony hummed, “Maybe.”

“You never know what you might change with words alone.” She downcast her eyes to her interlocked hands and sighed. “It’s a powerful tool.”

“A stupid tool.” He interjected. “Words get you no where.”

“That’s your problem.” She playfully shoved him and he laughed along with it. “You can’t fight yourself out of intergalactic space wars and believe that’s it.”

“Oh God, are you a fan?”

She laughed again, this time it echoed across the vast darkness and soothed his heavy heart. “No, no!” She laughed again. “I live in New York. My favourite Bodega got destroyed! I mean, I was hiding out in my office — very scary.”

“Office? You’re private?”

Shyly, she tucked a strand of hair behind her golden jewelled ears and flashed a flattered smile. “I am.”

“How old are you?”

“30.” Then she cringed. “29.” She crossed her other leg over. “I turn thirty two weeks today.”

Tony smirked and rested his arm along the wooden back of the bench. He was so close to her shoulders, where he could just wrap his arm around her like his usual Playboy self. Maybe get something out of this. But he couldn’t, he wouldn’t — he didn’t want to. She was something else.

“Happy birthday.”

“In two weeks time.”

“Blesses and blesses.”

She chuckled, “What does that even mean?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Sounds fitting.”

She laughed some more, and he wondered if she always laughed like this. Maybe she doesn’t laugh and he’s such an enigma that she can’t stop. Or maybe she’s just such a joyous person, and she has to laugh because she knows how infectious it is.

He laughed along with her.

“Sorry about the Bodega.” It felt weird apologising, but he thought he had to. Or maybe he owed it to her, or himself.

“Sorry?” She frowned. “Don’t be sorry. It wasn’t your fault.”

He scoffed. He didn’t believe that, or believe her. But then he caught her stare and maybe she was right. Her hand stretched out and she carefully cupped his — so soft.

“I was watching the news when it was all happening. I remember the terror everyone was going through.” She rubbed her thumb along his tanned skin, his heart was beating too fast. “But, you was there. Everyone thought you died. That’s- what you went through must’ve been horrible; I can’t even describe it.”

He cupped his other hand around hers. “It was nothing - no sweat.” Then she gave him a pointed look and he crumbed under the pressure. “It was sweat. A lot of sweat.”

It was silent again. But never the silence Tony was used to; the silence where he could feel everything but hear nothing while his breathing became erratic. This type of silence was warm, appreciative and calm. Comforting at most.

But then he shot up and turned to her, his face screwed in deep confusion. “Why do you care?”

A question so harsh was met with melodies as her chest bubbled and she grinned ear to ear. He only looked more confused, and then her smile fell dull. “Oh… you’re being serious.” Nervously tucking a strand of hair away, she offered her best meek smile. “You’re a person, Tony. Of course I care.”

“But why?”

“Why not? Where would people be if they didn’t care for one another?”

He shrugged. “Alone. Probably.”

“Are you alone?”

That was a heavy question.

“Not right now.” He lolled his head to the side and got caught up in the constellation on her sky. There was something about her that was so truth-telling, an impossible feeling that he couldn’t ever lie. “I am. Alone.” He sighed. “Are you trying to assess me?”

“No!” She laughed again. “I’m off-duty. I’m just, being a someone who can listen.”

“Someone who can listen…” It sounded strange on his lips. “You’re something else, you know?”

“Flattery from Tony Stark. I’m one lucky woman.”

He smiled. “I’m one lucky man.”

Silence loomed over once more and there was an understanding that this was their goodbye, an end of an interaction unlike any other. Maybe Tony didn’t want it to end. Maybe she didn’t either.

“I should…”

“Yeah.”

She cleared her throat and stood up. Even then, Tony still held on to her hand. “Tony—“

“I know, I know.” He grinned before bringing her hand close to his lips, a small peck on the softness of her knuckles as a sort-of goodbye. “Is it weird to say I don’t want this to end?”

She chuckled. “I think it means you need to talk to people more.” His eyes fell sunken yet his smile stayed strong. It was all in the eyes, it’s always the eyes. She leant forward — inches away from him. “It’s not weird at all.”

With one final action, she kissed his cheek.

“Goodnight, Tony.”

He frowned and squeezed her hand once more. “Thank you, Doc.”

[starberry-cupcake]

After a weekend that exhausted me, I am finally able to come back to this book. My reacts proved useful to remind me where I left of, who would have thought.

previously, on harrowberry the ninth:

this happened

also, harrowberry is courtesy of @lady-harrowhark

after which I suggested the following album cover as a representation of her

currently, chapters 14-16:

"The Mithraeum, the seat of the First Reborn! The Sanctuary of the Emperor of the Nine Houses, the bolthole of God"

I don't want to sound like gideon

I really don't

but I have to be entirely honest here

I read that sentence twice, at separate times

and neither of those times did I read "bolthole"

MOVING ON

harrowberry is settled in a room which was made for a lyctor that never was

I don't know if this is at all important but it caught my eye

I wonder what happened there

and I am, as we have established, fixating on very particular things

the emperor johnny bravo has a room that's described as a locked tomb, but harrow says that, unlike the other locked tomb, she's not interested to see what's in this one

on the one hand, I want to know what this guy's actually doing but, on the other, I don't care about what's going on in his intimacy

harrow is also surprised that he gets embarrassed

which I don't, because he should be embarrassed and ashamed about all of the stuff that is going on in general

I don't know specifics and I don't know details, but I know he's at fault

like we say over here, I've got no evidence but I've got no doubt

he tells harrowbean about the BOE

he says they hate the nine houses and that they have agents who turn planets against them

they got themselves a leader about 25 years before harrow was born, who made things more difficult for johnny man

let's bring back the timeline I'm constantly discarding and bringing back

we've been told now that: this leader showed up 25 years before harrow was born, they disappeared nearly 20 years ago and gideon was born 18 years ago in space to a mom who was brain dead upon arriving at ninth

there's also the whole eggs thing that idk if it has something to do with this or not but we're not totally throwing anything away here

we've moved from a cork board to a 3d model at this point

emperor johnny boo is blaming these people for not!dulcinea going ballistic

idk johnny man, you kind of fucked that up on your own I think, but go off, I guess

he also says that the BOE folks hate necromancers and necromancy

I don't wanna be making assumptions with little to no info (literally all I've been doing) but all I've seen so far is these people teaching harrow to kill planets

that's not what miss frizzle told me I should be doing when she wore the most iconic looks in television history

maybe if the emperor dressed like this I'd be trusting him more

emperor johnny also clocked harrow being a ninth kid smoothie

because harrow was doing theorems in the river and only one other person ever did that before

the person who founded the sixth

we're ok with the sixth because camilla came from there

when harrow starts telling him the smoothie story, the emperor says "This was...all so different...before we discovered the scientific principles" and proceeds to tell her that her parents basically did a mini resurrection

he says "I have committed the same act, and I know the price I had to pay" and calls her "a walking miracle"

to which harrow responds "I have just told you that I am the product of my parents' genocide"

emperor, my man

he says "nobody has to know" about the kid smoothie

there sure are a lot of things people aren't supposed to know or ask about over here in the emperor's bolthole

*me, high fiving gideon's force ghost*

he says the initials of BOE mean "blood of eden" and that Eden is "someone they left to die"

then he quotes shakespeare??? I think king lear???

“How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is To have a thankless child”, that quote

I'm not super knowledgeable when it comes to shakespeare tbh but...ominous

he also says "once you turn your back on something, you have no more right to act as though you own it"

and harrow thinks "at the time, that had made perfect sense to you"

that's pinned under the "hope for later" category

NEXT CHAPTER

harrow talks to ice cube barbie in her dreams

ice cube barbie says she's died twice

THEN, AND THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT

harrow asks her if she has ortus's eyes or if her eyes are hers and what her eyes are like

and ice cube barbie says "she asked me not to tell you"

this is me, adding another thing to the "hopeful hints for gideon" shrine I am building

chapter 16

harrow asks yandere twin about her diary and she says it has been burned on her own orders

more hints for my theory of past!harrow knowing a lot and planning ahead

harrowcita calls lyctortus (name suggested by the reply gang, thank you reply gang) "the other one"

which could be "other" as in "other lyctor" or as in "other ortus", so it's fine either way

harrow is worried about not!dulcinea still being a threat

AREN'T WE ALL

AREN'T WE ALL

I SURE AM, ALWAYS

she should have been flushed into space

harrow thinks not!dulcinea is moving and yandere twin calls her "crazycakes"

then we start going a bit more in depth about augustine

I have come to understand that he isn't called "saint of patience" because he's patient

he's called "saint of patience" because that's what you have to practice when you're around him

good god, this man

he has the charisma of the fifth but the disagreeable nature of the eighth

here I am, making judgment on these people I only know like 2 representatives of, but anyway

he's like if magnus hadn't discovered a passion for baking and had instead decided his hobby was to be passive aggressive and thinking too highly of himself

his cav was his brother, apparently

harrow thinks he's hollow inside

he is absolutely horrendous to mercygirl

BUT, MOST IMPORTANTLY

he also alludes to not!dulcinea moving and thinks mercygirl is doing it

I don't know about this, you guys

two mulders in one recap is what you get when I have been forced to not read for a couple days

I think fox mulder represents my energy in these recaps

Augustine The Unpleasant mentions that johnny j has "spent the last 10 thousand years on a perpetual search-and-destroy mission out of, as far as I can tell, purely symbolic retribution"

great, that sounds fantastic for god to do

and that "I wouldn't set myself up as his replacement A.L. He doesn't need another bodyguard, and even she was significantly more lucid than you are" (you being mercygirl)

I had mentioned the possibility of ice cube barbie being this AL person, we still don't know, but this AL is "she"

let's put that in the 3D model

augustine calls chad a "nice boy", which tracks for him being a Senior Chad

he treats harrow badly, which we absolutely don't stan over here in the harrow respect corner

harrow obliterates him with a comeback and he calls her Anastasia (You were born in a palace by the sea / A palace by the sea? Could it be?) like the previous ninth

these people love comparing their old pals to everyone they meet, even if they supposedly didn't get along much

harrow also makes fun of yandere twin for being what gideon would call "a weenie" over augustine

then we get the augustine and johnny explanation of how to kill the beast

I am all for information but this whole thing gives me the worst vibes

basically he says the beasts (disrespectful name) eat planets like oysters and then keep the thanergy as armor

the beast can inhabit anything it's thanergetically connected to it via their death

like that which they kill

they travel as river projections

they have agents, which he describes like the borg in star trek

individual forms connected to its hive

the whole lyctor thing, having a necromancer's ability with a cav's training to take over the body, seems to be a key to fighting these things

because the necro part goes down into the river to do the thing and the cav can take over the defense of the body

this, I think, could be what we saw harrow doing in the prologue, the projection thing

but harrow's body isn't protected, because she's "lyctor lite"

because there's hope for gideon or so help me john

which might be why yandere twin was telling her she would not be guarded if she did what she was about to do

I am very intrigued as to what harrow will come to know to push her to do what she did

also, she got stabbed, so I'd like to know if she's fine

but we have 0 guarantees of anything over here in the mithrandir or whatever

the emperor's bolthole

god, what has gideon done to me

they say the point of the combat is to throw the beast's soul into the abyss and hope it doesn't come back

that's what I've been trying to do with not!dulcinea all this time

ALSO still no camilla

see you next time and thank you for not hating the length of these things ♥

[idkfitememate]

Frozen Family

૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა Pairings : GN! Grandpa Reader x Childe & Family

૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა W.K. : 2.1k

໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১ Tags/CW&TW : Fluff, family relations, small bit of angst, character death, OC death

໒꒰ྀི˶˙Ⱉ˙˶꒱ྀིა Author’s note : So anyway this is the newfound brain rot because I got to many ideas, not enough for a fic, but it’s gonna distract me from others so here we go lol-

(Also yeah Grandpa I’m in a manly mood)

Note from weeks later: Nah this bitch a fix tf-

“Tell me about my Дедушка*.”

Capitano looked down at the ginger with contempt. It was often now, since Dottore had let it slip - curse that bastard - that Tartaglia’s Grandfather was a Harbinger. Apparently the boy had been raised to think that great man was simply a lowly solider, not one of the most powerful men in Snezhnaya.

When he heard that, Capitano had never wanted to kill a family more.

They hid your legacy from their kids, how dare they keep living as thought they had any right!?-

He sighed.

The boy continued to bother the much larger man at any chance he got, borderline begging - or now was he? Maybe he crossed that line ages ago - the man to tell him anything about his grandfather.

War stories, tall tales, hell even DRINKING stories, the 11th would take any.

It wasn’t like his Grandfather wasn’t alive, Childe could leave the palace right now and go ask you, seeing as you lived with his family.

But what Childe wanted was to come home one day in a boisterous manner and shout at his parents:

“You LIED you FEINDS!!! How DARE YOU LIE to not only ME but the REST OF YOUR CHILDREN about their ГРАНДФАТЕР?!? And to YOU, ГРАНДФАТЕР, ALLOWED THEM TO LIE!!! How COULD YOU?!?”

But he held to much respect for both them and you, even if his father sent him off as thought sending his blood thirsty son to join the Fatui would do anything. It was like sending a polar bear to a penguins nest, he had no clue what his father was thinking.

No matter, because you were there, showing him moves and teaching him tricks and giving him tips. Though, he still felt a bit betrayed at the fact that you even hid the fact that you were one of the strongest men in Snezhnaya.

“You truly wish to know boy?” The sharp voice of his superior snapped Childe out of his head. A quick nod was enough to bring Capitano to a nearby chair and sit, Childe quickly following.

“He was brave, I can say that much… He was around before me and had made a name for himself long before I even dared touch the Fatui, let alone graced its ranks.”

Childe took in the information like a sponge, absorbing everything the man said.

“They called him Большой хищник Севера*, a powerful title I’m sure you can see. It is said that before his accident, he had not lost a single man in war or battle, but after, he only lost seven men, one of each nation.”

Childe looked on in wonder. Only seven men… in the entirety of his Harbinger career? He knew the Doctor could never account for that.

“Wait… his accident? Do you mean..?” “Yes, when he first received that scar across his face, marring it, that was the first time he lost a man, someone near and dear to him as I’ve heard. I was only then truly climbing the ranks when this happened… a pity. But he wore that scar, and his friend’s Vision, with pride.” Childe gaped.

“Wait, you mean to tell me that-“ “Yes, Tartaglia, that Vision he carries in his eye, as well as arm and ear, back and finger, even his heart, they all work. They are the last pieces of his closest comrades. He’d rather die than give them up, I’ve heard. Unfortunately the strain of using them forced him into retirement, but he comes when we call.”

Childe’s eyes widened as he screamed.

“WAIT THEY WORK?!?-“

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍦🍯🍧୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

“BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-“

Ajax looked on in awe at his Дедушка. The nearly ten foot tall giant of a man, with a full beard and furry body hair to boot had just pulled a huge fish out from beneath the ice sheet they currently stood on while ice-fishing, bare handed.

Your roaring laughter echoed through the tundra as you held the fish up proudly. You grabbed the then four year old and hoisted him onto your shoulder, that which he could fully sit on and still have some room. His hands latched onto the side of your face but that didn’t seem to phase you, as you continued your loud laughter. The cause of your laughter, being that the fish was the same size as Ajax.

“LOOK AT HOW LARGE IT IS, МАЛЕНЬКИЙ ОДИН*!! SHE IS THE SAME SIZE AS YOU BWAHAHAHAHA!!”

Ajax’s entire body shook as you continued to laugh, giggles beginning to bubble up from his own mouth.

He watched as your Hydro themed earring bounced around as your body gyrated up and down from the mere force of your laughter. His laughter grew until the two of you were basically screaming out through the tundra.

You sighed and - while still chuckling - wrapped an arm around the boys waist and began walking back home. Of course, not before grabbing the bucket filled with other fish from your fishing trip.

Ajax didn’t want to say anything, on account of the fact that it would’ve been disrespectful of course, but your arm that was wrapped around him was bumpy and hard and cold, not unlike a certain place on your chest, though it was just super cold.

The arm was usually covered in more layers or a bunch or bandages wrapped around it to soften its shape and surface, but Ajax could still feel the sharp points and edges, though he never minded.

Eventually you both made it back to the house you shared with his family, and ducking under the doorframe quickly alerted the family of your presents.

“ГРАНДФАТЕР!!!!” Ajax’s two younger siblings - a third was on his way, Teucer would be his name - ran up to you jumping at your feet. You chuckled more and let their heads, greeting each.

“Tonia, Anthon, calm yourselves!! We were only gone a few hours hah hah!!” The two only cried out in joy louder, wrapping themselves around your legs. You stumbled for a moment before walking forward as if they weren’t there.

A man and a woman watched as you walked into the kitchen and subsequently the freezer - ironic considering where you lived - to drop off the fish before waltzing into the living room. You plopped down in the couch, first removing Ajax’s coat and then your own.

The two on your legs let go and smiled up at you, the man and woman - Ajax’s mom and dad - walked over a gave you smile, a hand landing on your shoulder.

Your smile widened.

Archons you fucking loved your family.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍰🍨🍫୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

Archons you fucking hated these enemies.

These fuckers from Natlan were resistant little fuckers. You chop off a hand and they’d still keep fighting.

You were growing annoyed after hours of fighting, blood drenching your uniform and absolutely caking your hair, something you knew would be a bitch to get out from experience.

Your right hand of the time, a Natlander by the name of Eztil, was beside you through the whole fight. He wielded large war hammer made of various precious metals and stones, as well as prettified wood; it swung through the skies, heating up the air as his Pyro vision burned bright. Much like you, his battle-hungry smile was long gone, replaced by annoyance as he squished another enemy beneath his hammer, blood spraying across his already bloody face.

“UGH! I’m getting bored nouehuepo*!! When are we going to be finished?? I am growing hungry and wish to challenge you to another eating contest after this!!” He shouted, completely ignoring the man running at him with a knife, whom was taken down by another Fatui member.

“I do not know приятель*. But let us continue until no other man stands but us!” And with that, you both continued swinging. You with your fists, sickles and hammers, him with his war hammer and bursts of flame.

Your movements were in sync, almost like a dance as you ravaged the battle field. You had each others back, making you both the most dangerous force on the battlefield.

If only it could’ve stayed that way.

It was a second. A second to look back at your friend to make a mental check.

Then you felt a searing sensation on the side of your face not looking at him. Eyes quickly looking back, a knife was embedded in your skin and a man had his foot on your chest. He smirked, then dragged the burning hot knife up, towards your eye, but before you could fully react.

Everything went white in that eye, then black.

Then, the most searing, burning, awful sensation you had ever felt.

Your scream silenced the battlefield as you bat the man away with the knife still embedded in your flesh, his body skipping across the land like a stone on a lake. Eztil’s eyes landed on you, which was just enough time for another attack.

“EZTIL!!!” You screamed.

…

A sword embedded itself through his chest. Both your eyes widened as your hand left the knife in your eye, reaching out to your now falling comrade.

You refused to cry, because he’d live.

That’s what you said to yourself as you rushed over to him, not minding your injury.

“Eztil, don’t you DARE fucking close your eyes, do you understand me?!?” Blood bubbles from his lips as his breathing slowed. A tear slipped from his eye as one of his hands pressed against your cheek.

“Nouehuepo… take it.” He whispered. Your gaze became confused as you stared at the dying man.

“What..?-“ “My vision. Take it. She shall be of service to… y-you.” He let out a harsh cough, his blood not staining your skin, making you flinch.

“No. It is yours приятель, I could never-“ “It is my last wish. Y-you wouldn’t deny a d-dying man his last wi-sh, would you?” You sighed, smiling at him.

“I don’t want you to die of enemy hands, so would you allow me to do the honors?” His grin widened, a glint in his eyes as he laughed, which quickly turned to hacking up his lungs.

“O-of co-urse!!” He smiled, and you smiled as well. Your hand flew up to the knife in your eye, and tore it out, not caring for the fountain of blood that squelched out. You also didn’t mind the large flap of skin that fell from your cheek, revealing the musculature of your face and your gums and teeth.

“Goodbye, my friend. May you find many fights in the afterlife to satisfy your bloodlust.” He grabbed your hand with the widest smile you’d ever seen in him.

“And ma-y I see you I-in that place!” Your hand came down onto his head, knife imbedding itself into his skull. Then, you raised your arm and planted the knife tainted with you and his blood now into his chest, striking his heart head on.

The light died from his eyes and his vision, but you quickly picked up the small red jewel which had been attached to his hair. Wiping it off, you leaned back and held your hand forward, before slamming the damned thing into your eye.

The battlefield suddenly felt as though it was atop a volcano itself, the air heating up and ash seemingly falling from the sky. You gripped your friend’s weapon, testing it in your hand and grip, swinging it slightly. Your hands pressed to your waist and your hand tilted to the sky, and finally, you laughed.

Your laughter shook the world, men falling in their asses as you showcased your joy. the air grew even hotter as the vision grew even brighter. Your entire body shook as the ear hammer in your hand heated up to a point where the metals were turning white in heat, though they didn’t melt.

You turned to your men, a wide smile on your face and tears, one trail of water and one of blood, streamed from your eyes.

“WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR MEN?!? LET US FIGHT UNTIL ONLY WE REMAIN!! CHARRGGEEE!!!!”

You continued to laugh as you knocked down tens of hundreds of soldiers in one swipe, the sky nearly turning red at the mere sight of your bloodlust and rage.

That night would go down in history. The night the sky cried blood, the fall of a nation of soldiers, the day Natlan would forever regret.

‘The Night Man became a God”

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍰🍭🍬୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

You stared at the bloodied Tartaglia- no. You stared at your grandson, Ajax’s bloodied form.

He only looked back at you.

“Well, Дедушка? Have I become a God?”

໒꒰ྀི˶˙Ⱉ˙˶꒱ྀིა Author’s note : Holy shit this sucked the shit outta me-

This ain’t the best but I hope you enjoyed might go back and make another of these lmao-

Дедушка - Grandfather

ГРАНДФАТЕР - GRANDFATHER

Большой хищник Севера - The Great Predator of the North

МАЛЕНЬКИЙ ОДИН - LITTLE ONE

nouehuepo - my friend

приятель - buddy