#but the doctor has no darlings to go home to

[clockwayswrites]

A Bird and a Menace of Bats - Part 17

masterpost

“We could always look up where he lives,” Tim suggested.

Bruce gave his son a tired look, turning slowly that he was sure not to jostle the sleeping man on his shoulder. “No, we can’t.”

“Sure you can. WE has to have it on file.”

“That would be a gross misuse of my postilion and an invasion of privacy,” Bruce said. “As in something Danny could very well sue for as us taking him home has nothing to do with his work and why we would have his address on file.”

“What about his driver’s license?” Duke suggested.

“He doesn’t have one, or at least not on him,” Dick said. He had Danny’s jacket pulled open and was carefully feeling inside for pockets.

Next to him, Jason was going through the card pocket on the back of Danny’s cellphone case.

“He does have a rewards card for Lacey’s though, so good taste there.”

Bruce rubbed tiredly at his face. “Dick, stop looking for a wallet. Jason, put all the cards back where you found them, please, and no hacking the phone.”

“You’re no fun anymore,” Jason said in a mocking whine.

Stephanie stifled a snicker.

“Stephanie, stop stalking him on social media and Babara, stop using what she’s found to try and triangulate where he is from,” Bruce said.

“Jason’s right,” Stephanie said as she slumped dramatically back into the seat, “you’re no fun anymore.”

“Yes, how boring of me,” Bruce drawled, “not invading the privacy of a man so unwell that he fell asleep in a noisy limo full of near strangers.”

Cass leaned forward at that.

Bruce quickly shifted gears to try and reassure her. “He’ll be alright, Cass.”

“Breathing is shallow. Heart?”

Bruce nodded. “He said there was an accident when he was a child that affected his heart and pulse. It was very slow and weak early after he stood up from his seat and had to sit back down. But he also said that it wasn’t unexpected and that he’s been to his doctor recently.”

“He did take this week off.”

“Tim.”

“What?” Tim said defensively. “He befriended my sister, I had to check him out.”

At least that was a reasonable excuse in case Danny was hearing any of this.

“If he’s doing badly, he shouldn’t be home alone, right?” Stephanie asked far too innocently.

“Not that we even know where he lives without waking him. Shouldn’t we let him rest?” Tim added.

“I shall start to the Manor then,” Alfred said, bringing an abrupt end to the discussion so suddenly that was that.

For what felt like the millionth time that night, Bruce sighed heavily.

-

It rather said something about the family that they were both efficient and graceful in getting an unconscious body out of the car. Bruce, with Dick’s help, passed Danny to Jason who held him out of the way as the rest of the family climbed out. Bruce was surprised to have Danny passed to him the moment Jason was able, but Bruce was quickly distracted.

“Right?” Jason asked.

“Hn.”

“Hn? Hn what?” Steph asked, popping up at Bruce’s elbow.

“The guy’s too light,” Jason answered. “It’s like he’s got bird bones.”

Tim stifled a snicker. Bruce, once again, sighed.

“Tim, take Steph and go help Alfred make sure the room is ready,” Bruce instructed. “Dick, help wrangle. Cass, darling, go rest. Jason, manage the doors for me, please.”

There was a coarse of agreement and the children were off. Bruce and Jason followed more sedately to be gentle on Bruce’s sleeping cargo.

“Jokes aside, he’s too light,” Jason said, keeping his quiet words between them. “This might be more than just a weak pulse.”

What Jason didn’t say is that they knew it was more than just a weak pulse—or at least it had been that night. It was concerning to think what lingering effects the transformation might be having on Danny. Especially concerning because…

“Cass is already attached,” Jason said, as if finishing Bruce’s own thoughts.

“I know.”

“And now the others are curious. Well, more curious.”

“I don’t suppose I could pay you to keep them in line?”

Jason snorted. “Even you couldn’t afford that, old man.”

“I was afraid not,” Bruce said as he fought back a smile.

Despite Jason’s refusal, Bruce knew that his son would keep his eyes others. Jason wouldn’t likely stop them, but he would keep an eye on them. Danny was still enough of an unknown that Bruce couldn’t help but be wary of the man’s presence in the middle of the family.

At least the guest wing was on the other side of the Manor from the family wing. The spaced eased the anxiety, a little. Alfred was just finishing shoeing Stephanie and Tim from the guest room as they approached and Jason peeled off to take his leave with them. Bruce entered the room with Danny on his own.

And apparently it was going to stay that way as Alfred said, “I trust you to see our guest settled,” and closed the door.

Bruce resisted the urge to sigh one more time.

At least Alfred had already folded down the sheets.

Bruce laid Danny down and started with the dress shoes, mostly to delay having to decide just how much clothing was appropriate to strip a near stranger of. After all, Danny didn’t know that he had slept curled up with the whole family once before. Bruce was also aware that he had less propriety than most people, given his unusual night life.

By the time the shoes were off and set aside, Bruce decided that the bare minimum would likely be most comfortable for Danny in the morning. The tie and belt went onto the seat of the nearby arm chair while the suit jacket was draped over the back. Danny’s phone was set on the nightstand. Alfred, of course, already had clothing set out for Danny to change into in the morning, should he wish. Bruce left it at that and covered Danny lightly with the sheets before he took his leave.

[buildoblivionthenwewilltalk]

i’m sorry but no tardis crew quite lives up to the ‘peter pan and the lost boys’ allegations like team five

[the-faceless-bride]

More Ideas for KNY (demon slayer) different characters ♡ (SOME NSFW CONTENT FOR SANEMI AND MUZAN AND MENTIONS OF GORE IN SANEMI AND LIGHT NSFW IN GYOMEI)

<- Part 1

Imagine being dangerously in love.

Imagine being a demon, obsessed with the brash, and blood thirst Wind Hashira. the first time ever being in battle with him is what leads you down a path of want and lust for the cruel hashira.

Imagine going out of your way to always be where he is, always catching his attention and being attacked by him. He believes you're mocking him, following him just to show off that he hasn't been able to kill you. But that isn't true at all. When you fight, you never actively try and gut him, only blocking your neck and leaving the rest of your limbs exposed to be lashed in this masochism tango.

Imagine struggling to hide your enjoyment and ecstacy each time his sword ripped, teard, and scar your body. He had to have known how me made you feel. He must. The darkness of your cheeks must've been a giveaway. Right? His eyes bewitching you in how intense he glares into your soul. It sets a fire under your cold skin, a burning desire.

Imagine one time when you and Sanemi are fighting. Other slayers show up. But they don't instantly jump into the fight. 1. from looking at the fight, you hadn't landed a single strike and seemed to be a greater deal slower than the hashira, and 2. Tanjiro made an odd comment. "Huh, it's like she's avoiding striking him on purpose."

Imagine how Shinobu decided the fight was long enough and tried to sneak in and end the fight. Only for a switch to set off and catch her off guard and spin at the speed of light, leaving a large gash across her body from her left founder to her hip. And Sanemi instantly tried to help her. Only to be stopped by your own weapon pressed so close to his neck that even swallowing made his Adamsapple scrape against a sharp blade. "Don't you dare. Your attention is meant for me. Are you seriously letting her attempt to get between us work?" And that made Sanemi pause... "us? Wha-" -- "don't play dumb darling. We're soulmates, Sanemi~" you whisper to him. "What the fuck."

Imagine how now you make him feel so conflicted, how he hates you for what you are but loves you for how you make him feel... in his home in his spare time as the sun rises, his windows covered and locked tight as he has you on your knees, leaning forward and his chest pressed to your back. Your head locked between his bicep as his other hand held his sword under you. It nicks you each time he thrusts. If he pushed you forward anymore, his blade would surely cut your chest and stomach open. "I HATE YOU, YOU FILTHY DEMON. I DONT WANT YOU. CURSE YOU FOR DEMONIC TEMPTATION." You softy cry at the harsh words from your love, "I don't care if you don't want me... I'm yours right now..."

Sanemi Shinazugawa × Demon reader Trope: Yandere Lovesick/I hate you so much I love you.

Imagine being with Muzan his entire life... your family were servants to his family. And from a young age, you were assigned to be Muzans personal maid or companion as you were too young to really do any work than cleaning up his room. But since you can remember, you've always been with Muzan.

Imagine being the one he confides with most. His fears, his wishes, and despite his coldness. His shouldering eyes seemed to be less scorching when it came to you. His one and only friend. Even if you didn't have much of a choice in the companionship. It was you who sat in on his doctor's visits about his deteriorating health. When he got the news of how it would be a miracle for him to even make it to his mid 20s...

Imagine how one night after a particularly scary coughing fit, he simply places his head to your mid section as you blush his hair and pull it back into a braid. He softy thanks you as he tilts his head to look up at you, "Of course, I'm always happy to take care of you." But that isn't want he wants. He wanted to take care of you. Not you to him. And without thinking, he pulls you down to him.

Imagine His heat is pounding in his chest. You lay across him as his long and slim fingers tease you between your legs. You try and stay quiet, your face twisted with pleasure and guilt. You felt like you were taking advantage of the sick man who would never find love or feel the love of another in such a romantic and intimate way. You thought maybe that this was him just grasping for a moment where he didn't feel so useless being bedridden. But it was so much more. If this was the last thing he did, pleasing the only one who he cared for most. The one he wished he could've married... he would be happy to die. This surely isn't good for his heart, but he couldn't care less. You hovering yourself above him. As he tried weakly to pull you in to rest your whole weight. This was how he wanted to spend his last days, weeks, and months. However long he had left. He wanted it to be with you.

Imagine as days go by, and he feels more and more guilty. He starts to feel as though you let him do these things because you feel obligated as his personal maid to do so. Nights in the dark ask he fingers you, giving and receiving oral pleasure. But you still won't give him everything. You refuse to fully lay with him. Sometimes, he feels like it's because you don't really love him. Not like he does you. Or maybe you find him... pathetic... he can't actually make love to you. You'd be doing all the work. He doesn't want that, and it seems you don't either... eventually, his thoughts become too much, and he decides to let you go...

Imagine you were relieved of all your maid duties, not just to Muzan but to the family as a whole. You were heartbroken. And the heartbreak only worsened at the news of Muzan and his families and your families deaths. You'd cried more times than you'd ever had before in your life. And you were so very confused when you'd found a Man who looked exactly like Muzan sitting in your bed a few nights later. "Hello dear. I'm home." He invented to truly give you what you wanted, and he was eager to give it too you.

Muzan Kibutsuji × reader Trope: Unrequited/reunited love/soulmates

Imagine being Master Kagaya's faithful slayer, you'd always admired him. You and your Master had created a strong bond. Stronger than others. Moments like this reminded you that you were special. You sat on your knees as you just like you had the first time. Your head pressed to his chest and he dragged his fingers over your head.

Imagine trying not to tear up as you remember the first time you'd kneeled for him. You'd been reckless and impatient leading to a fellow slayer getting extremely hurt. You kneeled before him as you sat in the room alone waiting for him to speak. Doing your best to not make any noise as you silently cry. You'd failed him. Your beloved Master. But he didn't yell. He didn't make you feel like you were a problem. He merely hummed before knealing with you, one hand on atop your head and the other cupping your cheek feeling the wet stream of tears and wiped it away. "It's alright. You didn't mean for this to happen. I know you didn't. I know you're a good girl." And your breath hitched. He noticed. And from then on he gave you positive affrimations which encouraged you to do better. For him.

Imagine how as you sat there listening to his words letting yourself flow away and melt into your master. He thought it was innocent. He was simply your master helping you, if it wasn't him maybe you'd find these soft words from Gyomei or maybe even Kyojuro... but he was wrong. So wrong. It was him. Only him. You'd put yourself on the line so much more than you should've. All to hear those soft praises. His wife must not like you... you do take up more and more of his time as days go on...

Imagine how he softly calls to you. Late that night, he'd heard your footsteps. He sat with you talking. About anything that day. Soft and short conversations. Quiet but not uncomfortable. "You're my favorite you know." He sighed, before he let out a small chuckle "don't tell the others." You know he was teasing. But your heart told you other wise.

Imagine being hurt. In battle you were hurt. But even in your pain you still made your way to your master... your beautiful Kagaya... the married man, the family man, that you had fallen in love with. "My dear, you still come and see me while you're in such pain?" He seemed shocked. But you aren't sure why, you'd walk on hot coles and crawled on your hands and belly to kneel for him. You'd do anything for your master. And you could only hope as his favorite... you wouldn't let him down. Finally you lifted your head from his chest, pulling his hands from your hands, leaving a kiss to his knuckles. One day. One day you'll have him.

Kagaya Ubuyashiki × Slayer reader Trope: unrequited love/lovesick/slow burn

Special Part two of Forbidden love with Gyomei × demon

Imagine how the rest of the slayers flock around Gyomei, asking him so many questions. And he couldn't even answer them all. Too consumed by his disbelief that the person he'd fallen in love with so deeply, had turned out to be a demon.

Imagine how he layed in bed lonely and... missing you. He began to long of your cold touch, your voice, your laugh that was so contagious to him. He missed you. He'd fallen for you. Demon or not. He laid in his bed trying and failing to get even a wink of sleep. But just as he had almost fallen asleep he was awoken by a sound. 'Tap tap' was the sound, 'tap tap' on his window. "Gyomei... my love..."

Imagine how he practically leaped from his bed. Demon or not you had carved yourself a spot in his heart. Slamming open the window and pulling you inside, his hands instantly feeling over your cheeks, your nose, your neck. Kissing the knuckles of your cold hands.

Imagine being the one that made Gyomei for a moment stay from his faiths. Gyomei devoted his life to his beliefs, that includes waiting. Waited all his life for the one. Saving himself and waiting. But you both were in a unique circumstances... so from that point on Gyomei promised himself to you. You would stay with him in his home and he would always come back to you. That night he would kiss you, love you, lay you under him while he whispered for you to be his.

[lyrefromthesea]

Do you think you could maybe do the Hashiras with a dying reader? Not like dying in there arms but a reader who's so ill that they can't move and bed ridden, dying?

Remember to take care of yourself!!

Hashira x Reader - how sickening

pairing: Tengen x reader, Obanai x reader, Rengoku x reader, Sanemi x reader, Giyuu x reader, Gyomei x reader, Shinobu x reader, Mitsuri x reader

content warning: angst, fluff?

Tengen:

"i'm home" he said, still both his swords in hand. he had started immediately coming home after his missions, worried over your safety.

since the doctor told you to stay in bed, he had to help you more now. he didn't mind, he would give you acts of service as long as you live.

however, when he heard sounds coming from the kitchen, he dropped both his swords, rushing towards the room.

you stood in front of the counter, trying to chop vegetables. his eyes widened, knowing that you put a toll on your body. with a swift movement, his hand was on yours as he stood right behind you.

"darling, it's enough." he told you, gently taking the knife out of your hands. he almost felt bad when you looked at him with big deer eyes. "the doctor told you to rest."

"i know, but it doesn't sit right with me. i still feel like i can do things myself. i want to be helpful." you admitted, your head lowering.

"i know, but it's important to rest at times. let's bring you to bed, I can finish this." he answered, nodding at the vegetables. he put an arm around your shoulder, leading you towards the bedroom.

listening to your words, he knew you still wanted to feel helpful - strong, but he saw how weak your body truly was.

he knew that there was a slim chance of survival. he didn't want the time you still had decreasing because you were pushing yourself too much.

Obanai:

you were asleep again. it happened more often since he came visiting you every day. his eyes were looking you over, trying to find anything out of place.

you had more bandages on your arms, probably from all the shots you were receiving. your lips have turned more pale and dark circles were slowly growing under your eyes.

he had come up with a routine when you were asleep upon his arrival, checking your body first and then placing his head on your chest.

he closed his eyes, trying to focus on the sound of your heart. the steady beat always managed to calm him down, but it has grown weaker over the past days.

he felt worry consuming the back of his mind, not noticing how your hand moved until it was placed on his head.

"Obanai.. you came to visit again." you mumbled, opening your eyes just a bit, everything else felt too exhausting.

"i promised." he answered, carefully pulling away. he knew it was stupid, but he was worried about putting too much weight on you.

"you can continue, i don't mind.." you tried to encourage him to continue, not wanting him to feel stressed. he declined your offer right away, much rather looking after you.

"i'm fine."

Rengoku:

his eyes were locked on your plate. the two of you have eaten lunch about half an hour ago. when he decided to do the dishes and found your nearly untouched plate, worry began to pool in his gut.

you hadn't eaten properly over the past few weeks, but it had been so much worse since last week. he put the plate down, not feeling like cleaning it right now.

his mind was elsewhere - with you - trying to figure out how to make you feel better.

he had already known what an untreatable disease could do to people. he had watched his mother be bedridden until the moment of her death.

and even though you've told him that you made peace with the fact you were going to die, he had at least wanted to make your days as bearable as possible.

he shook his head, trying to lock the negative thoughts out. times were hard, he needed to show you he was a reliable husband - that he still had hope.

he cleared his throat, trying to look more confident a he wandered to your room. perhaps he could convince you to eat a small treat.

Sanemi:

visiting the hospital was something Sanemi dreaded every day. he would've avoided ever seeing this place, but that meant he wouldn't be able to see you.

entering your room, he found himself swallowing down his sorrows. he did it for you, but it got harder for him with each passing day.

he stood next to your hospital bed, looking down at your face. you nearly looked like last time, but you've grown more pale.

he wondered if you could feel the change - feel anything. if he only knew that his daily visits were helping you grow healthy.

yet there was no indication of your well-being. you had been in a coma for three months now and the doctors didn't believe in your recovery anymore.

"i tried cooking your favourite, when you wake up again, i want to show you." he started, standing next to your bed. he didn't know what to do, so he decided to tell you about his day when he visited.

he knew it wasn't anything interesting, but he hoped you would hear something - anything. he hoped you would wake up and prove the doctors wrong.

Giyuu:

this wasn't fair. his sister. his friend. the people he fought to protect. and now you.

ever since you've grown sick, he has stayed by your side. he knew you couldn't move on your own so he did it for you. it was easy to carry you around, you've grown much lighter in his arms. it worried him, even the inexperienced eye could tell you weren't healthy.

"the sun will set soon." his quiet voice proclaimed, feeling your head move. he sat down on the engawa, keeping you in his arms.

"is this okay?" he asked, trying to ensure you weren't uncomfortable in his hold. he wanted you to feel at ease at all times.

"it's good, don't worry." you mumbled, placing your head against his chest. his hold on you grew tighter, he was glad you put your trust in him.

he swore to protect you, but protecting someone from a demon is different than this. he felt helpless, afraid of losing you.

he didn't know how many sunsets you would be able to see.

Gyomei:

when the first signs of your sickness started occuring and you wished to still indulge in the pleasures of life, he had supported you.

deep down he thought it would maybe make you feel better, treat what was untreatable.

however, it didn't change the number of times you were more tired than usual, passing out in the midst of a conversation or task.

"Gyomei..?" you awoke in your bed, hands slowly rubbing over your eyes. you didn't know why you were here, you had been walking through the meadow a few moments prior.

"your fever has returned." he informed you, placing a wet towel on your forehead. you shuddered at the feeling, sinking deeper into the blankets.

"i didn't notice, i'm sorry." he said, his voice having grown more quiet. he felt guilty, he should've noticed that you had grown more ill again.

"don't apologize. it's nothing we could've seen coming." you answered, a quiet chuckle leaving your lips.

he smiled, yet he couldn't unhear how weak your voice has gotten, how you had to exhaust yourself everytime you answered.

Shinobu:

"are you ready for your daily shot?" she asked you, wanting to make sure you're fine. you nodded, trying to force a smile on your face.

she glanced at your face for a short moment, then proceeded to take the syringe in her hand. you had been staying in the butterfly mansion for a while now, but you still didn't look any better.

the sting of the needle barely hurt and feeling the small amount of liquid entering your arm made a weird sensation spread throughout your body.

you wanted to tell Shinobu, but stopped when you saw her face. the smile she tried to keep up vanished every time she had to give you a shot.

you figured that he was worried about your state, not wanting it to worsen. naturally, you brought your hand on top of hers, her eyes meeting yours.

"it's going to be fine." you told her, a weak smile forming on your face. she smiled back. "i know."

she needed to leave a few moments later, telling you to rest some more. your emotional strength was admirable, but it wouldn't keep you safe this time.

how long would she be able to treat you until she gave up fighting a deadly disease?

Mitsuri:

"[name]!" Mitsuri cheered, rushing towards you after she entered your shared estate. it was the first thing she did since you had been bed-ridden.

"i brought you some sakura mochi! i thought sharing some would lift your mood!" she cheered, placing a huge plate of the sweet treat down next to you.

she smiled happily, though her face dropped when she saw your apologetic look. had she done something wrong again?

"thank you, Mitsuri, but i'm not supposed to eat sweets.." you reminded her. now she really lost her smile, looking at the plate and then back at you.

"i'm so sorry! i just wanted to cheer you up!" she whined, her hands immediately coming up to meet yours. she didn't do this will ill intentions, she had just wanted to make your day brighter.

"it's fine. i appreciate the gesture." you comforted her, gently squeezing her hands. at least that's what you tried, but your strength has drastically reduced, making the action barely noticable.

"sit down and tell me about your day. i've been worried about your mission." you said, watching her slowly sit down. she did as you asked, wanting to make you happy.

and as you two sat there, speaking for hours, she didn't notice how you had pushed the sakura mochi further to her - by the end of your conversation the plate was empty.

[vivwritesfics]

Hi!! Can you please do one where y/n has been feeling really sick but doesn’t tell lando about it bc he’s been stressed at work and stuff. She ends up kind of being antisocial and rotting in bed bc of her sickness and lando ends up suggesting a break since she doesn’t seem to suit his lifestyle anymore. Y/n ends up running into landos mom at the dr office for a checkup where she finds out she’s pregnant. She asks Cisca to keep it a secret but she ofc tells lando she saw y/n at the dr office. Ending however you want! Thank youuuu

changed slightly buuuuut i like it

Warnings: hospitals, vivi knowing nothing about hospitals

She was sick of everything. Not because she was literally sick of everything, but she was feeling hot and bothered, generally shitty, and her head fucking killed.

Everybody was pissing her off. Her co-workers, her boss. That random guy on the bus that was breathing just a little bit too loud. He noticed her glaring, but went right back to breathing just as loudly.

The minute she got into the apartment, she sagged. She checked the keys on the hook, except no keys were there. It was a little bit of a relief that her boyfriend wasn't home at that minute; there was no telling her close she would have been to snapping at him.

She crawled under the bedsheets, never to emerge again...

Except no because Lando wasn't going to let her rot in bed. When he got home that night, she explained it to him, explained that he was feeling so shitty. Immediately he'd gotten her pain killers, water, and toast.

After four days of her just rotting in their bed, Lando was sick of it. Well, not sick of it, but he was worried. Incredibly worried.

He sat by her bedside and brushed her hair away from her forehead. "I'm begging you to go to the hospital baby," he said and squeezed her hand. "Please."

She stared at him, looking positively grumpy. "I'm fine, Lan," she assured him as she sat up. "I'm gonna go into work tomorrow, I promise."

He released a sigh, but he trusted her. If she said she was fine, then she's fine.

"Keep me updated when I'm racing, please," he said and she agreed.

And she did go into work the next day, but she felt so fucking shitty. She had no choice but to go to the hospital.

Fucking hospitals, she hated them. Sitting there anxiously as she waited to be called into the doctors office. Her knee bounced and she kept her arms wrapped around her midsection, staring down at the floor.

But then she was called into the doctors office. Her steps were quicks as she rushed forward.

"Well, miss L/N," he said as he looked at the results from her bloodwork. "Congratulations, mom!" He pushed the results towards her.

With shaking hands, she picked up the paper and looked at it. Her information, stuff that was too much for her brain to read, and then the results. Yep, she was pregnant. "No," she whispered, shaking her head. "No. No, no, no."

Tears sprung to her eyes as she put the paper back onto the doctors desk. "I-I need to call my mother in law."

No, she couldn't call Lando. Not while he was racing, not while he was on the other side of the world. It would just worry him while he couldn't get to her. So, instead, she called her future mother in law.

Cisca Norris arrived at the hospital as soon as she could. She found her in the waiting room, where she had been stopping herself from freaking out. But her nails were digging into her palms, leaving little crescent shapes in her skin. "Oh, darling," Cisca said as she pulled her to her feet.

As soon as they got outside, she was in tears, barely able to keep herself standing. But Cisca got her into the car and calmed her down. She talked her through it, got her to the point where she was no longer crying.

"I think you should tell Lando," Cisca said, and she immediately shook her head.

"No, Cisca, I can't! I can't, I can't, I can't." It took everything in her to not break down into tears.

But Cisca just squeezed her hands. "You can do this." She waited for a confirming nod before she called Lando.

His voice came loud and clear through the car. "Hey mum," he said, seemingly without a care in the world.

She sucked in a breath. "Lan?" She squeezed.

"Baby?" He couldn't hide the concern in his voice.

Her entire body shook as she squeezed her eye shut. "Lando, you're gonna be a dad."

She was so quiet, it wasn't clear whether Lando had heard it or not. The slight pause he took didn't help. But then, "Holy shit! I'm gonna be a fucking dad! Let's go!"

[ddollipop]

CURB THIS SICKNESS. . . ! — ( SOFT YANDERE!PLAGUE DOCTOR OC X READER. )

#. synopsis! — there's a virus outside that's snuffed out the lights of many. . . and lucian refuses to let you meet such a miserable fate .

#. contains! — f!reader , explicitly nsfw content , multiple orgasms , vaginal fingering , implications of paranoia , cum swallowing , oral sex , cunnilingus , blowjob , vaginal sex , obsessive behavior , frequent usage of endearment terms (love, darling, angel) , missionary position , bathing , established relationship , slight choking , slight hair pulling , creampie , biting .

#. word count! — 5.1k .

#. oc carrd! — click here to find more information on lucian + other original characters of mine that i might write for in the future! xx .

When the virus began to spread in all directions from its alleged location of origin, —you were certain you’d be dead before winter. If not from sickness, then certainly from another disease, or at the hands of some twisted maniac just searching for someone to slaughter that nobody would care enough to miss. You thought it was only a matter of time before you succumbed to hunger or thirst or the changing chill of autumn, or maybe something completely different: but something was bound to happen, and you were sure of it.

And it did. . . But it was nothing like what you had in mind.

Lucian may have seemed like something out of a horror story passed down through generations, still clad in his working attire the night he scooped you up in his arms from a shabby alleyway like a stray kitten, but he was surprisingly gentle (and perhaps unusually quiet.) He wasn’t very talkative, but he cared for you in a way you were completely unaccustomed to, —prepared you a warm meal, brewed you chamomile tea, ran you a hot bath, and gave you a place to sleep for the night. He said you were slightly fevered and a bit malnourished, but all things considered, it could have been worlds worse.

“You’re lucky,” he hummed, a gloved hand smoothing over your jaw, “the pestilence hasn’t taken hold of you.”

Even back then, that wasn’t why you felt lucky. . . No, much to the contrary, you felt lucky because this man had taken you in without expecting anything of you in return, and he sought to keep you safe from the rot of the outside world. Thus, little by little, you stopped caring much about going out there. 

His place is a bit quaint for two, but it’s homey, and it smells perpetually of lavender. Over time, he’s shifted the sleeping arrangements, and now you rest in his arms each night; about as close as one can get to being a lover without having the label.

A part of you is sure you could get it if you asked, but to you, it doesn’t matter much. At the end of each day, he comes home to you, and that’s what counts. You take care of the housework while he’s away (not that there’s ever much to do.) For as odd as he is, his living space is free of most things, —no trinkets unrelated to his work (which you are not keen on touching), and he’s meticulous about picking up after himself and keeping all his items in order, so your unofficial duties are few and far between. Otherwise, the rest boils down to cooking meals, washing clothes, and keeping yourself entertained while he’s away. . . Like some kind of glorified trophy wife.

And sure, this will probably get old eventually, but for now, this is what you’re working with. He likes to have you close and to know where you are, —to know that you’re safe and not out getting infected by anyone or anything. If you’re at his home, you’re safe from all the filth of the outside world, and heaven knows it’s so nice to come home and lie next to a body so utterly unmarred by the grime of society.

You’re sure once the virus has stilled, he’ll ease up.

But tonight is not that night. Lucian all but stumbles through the door, and you can hear his rapid breathing through the long, beak-like shape of his mask. He seems startled and frantic, and you rush over, a concerned expression crossing your features.

“Lucian? Are you alright?” You ask, reaching out to put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

In an instant, he snatches your wrist and grabs for the other, holding one in either hand. His grip is fervent, but far from painful, and you become more confused the longer he goes without explaining the state he’s found himself in.

“Lucian—”

“Darling,” he cuts you off, “you mustn’t get near the door.”

“Okay,” you nod in compliance, “but why?”

“The pestilence has taken hold of this city,” he replies. “The air out there, you wouldn’t believe the thickness of that putrid aroma. It’s suffocating.”

Before you can ask if there’s something you can do to quench his worries, he tugs you away from the entrance and into the bathroom. He removes his gloves and sets them aside, reaching down to begin running a warm bath. Then he looks to you, almost expectantly.

“Strip, please,” he encourages, —saying it like he’s desperate for the act, albeit not necessarily under the context you’d prefer of him.

“Lucian—”

“Darling,” he hisses, “please, do as I ask of you.”

His bare hands cup your cheeks.

“Please,” he repeats.

It’s hard to deny him when he asks like that and has been so good to you, and it’s not as if he’s asking for a lot. He’s just having a bad night, and if scrubbing yourself down will help ease his mind a bit, you’re willing to put in that sliver of extra effort for his sake.

Lucian sighs in relief as you begin to disrobe.

“Thank you,” he comments. “I really don’t have a clue what I’d do if you fell ill. . . I don’t think my heart could handle such a thing.”

You slip the last of your clothing off and step gingerly into the filling tub. It’s not long enough to stretch out in, so you bunch yourself up neatly to fit the space and look up at him once more.

“I feel fine,” you assure.

“I’m glad,” he replies. “Even so, it’s much better to air on the side of caution. The human body is a dangerously fickle thing, and it can be incredibly fragile. I’ve seen as much firsthand more times than I can count. In its infancy, this virus is little more than a common cold, but progresses into something fatal at a rapid pace.”

You simply nod as he kneels next to the tub, rolling his sleeves up.

“Your breathing is ragged, Lucian,” you state, “you should take that mask off and get some fresh air.”

“After,” he answers quickly.

He reaches for the half-used lavender soap bar and lathers it on his palms, then reaches out to smooth the suds over your arms and neck. His motions are a little rough and all too urgent. This is far from the first time he’s accompanied you for a bath, but it is the first time he’s ever done so and been this aggressive in his approach (if only as a result of his own anxiety.)

For the time being, he seems to avoid your breasts, instead reaching for one of your legs to hike it up out of the water. He repeats this process with the other, cleaning you until he seems satisfied. When he makes no move to revisit your chest, you take the soap from his hand and lather it yourself, placing it in its previous spot before leaning back slightly and allowing your hands to travel where you’d have liked for his to go.

Lucian watches but doesn’t touch. Your fingertips nudge at your nipples, feeling them harden under the minstrations, your bottom lip slipping between your teeth. If nothing else, he should be getting the hint by now.

Surprisingly, you’ve never had sex with him in all the months you’ve spent curled up in his arms, sleeping in his bed. He’s watched you take care of yourself on a number of occasions, has helped with his fingers another few times, —and allowed you to wrap your hand around him once a few weeks prior; but anything beyond that has seemed to be off limits. You’ve chalked it up to his shyness, or perhaps his distaste for human contact as a result of the pestilence; but tonight feels distinctly different.

Even in his previous state of frazzlement, Lucian seems all too content to sit back and watch you fondle your own breasts, soapy fingers clutching and releasing in tandem. You’ve always liked for him to watch you do things like this. Though his mask obscures the view of his face, you just know his eyes are trained on you, soaking up every movement, and you like to think he’s drooling at the way you grope yourself for his enjoyment (and for your own.)

“Lucian?” You prompt, half-lidded eyes glancing over to him.

His shoulders straighten as you say his name.

“You’re very beautiful,” he says, words almost too muffled by the mask to be made out.

“You think so?” You smirk a bit.

“I do.”

Ah, but that’s nothing new, and it’s nothing he hasn’t shared with you before. On the very night he took you in and washed your hair, he smoothed his gloved hands against your scalp and mumbled about how pretty you looked, even with dirt still caked on your skin. Even covered in filth from the alleyways you’d been sleeping in, he thought you were nothing less than stunning, —a real vision to behold, and he’s never skimped on such compliments.

You pause for a moment, reaching out to grasp for his hands. He allows the gesture, though he seems a bit confused, leaning in closer to the rim of the tub as you position him to your liking.

“Do you think I feel feverish?” You inquire, placing one of his hands on your neck and another on one of your breasts.

He makes no move to pull away, firming his grip up almost instantaneously, as if he’s been itching to feel you this way.

“Perhaps a bit warm,” he mumbles, taking a moment to roll your nipple between two nimble fingers, “but body temperature is known to rise during times of. . .” he trails off, clears his throat, then utters: “arousal.”

You trail your nails down his arm, letting your head tip back again. His hands are a bit calloused, but they feel so good against your skin, and you let a few moans slip past your lips. It’s not often he touches you like this without his gloves on, but the flesh-on-flesh contact is electrifying.

“Not to worry you, but I do feel a bit strange,” you huff slightly.

Through the slightly tinted bath water, Lucian can still watch your hand as it travels between your thighs.

“I’m just a throbbing mess,” you hum, giving him a pointed stare; “but you’ll take care of me. . . Right, Doctor?”

It may just be your imagination, but you could swear you heard his breathing shudder at that request. You’ve never been this forward with him, but something apart from the facial expression that’s still hidden away tells you that he likes where this is going. His fingers clamp down on the column of your throat, squeezing just enough to make taking in air a bit more of a struggle, but not anywhere near hard enough to be fatal.

The bit about being a throbbing mess was by no means an exaggeration on your part, so you take matters into your own fingers for the time being, drawing circles on your clit beneath the water.

“Of course,” he finally finds the voice to agree, “—I’d do anything to keep you from feeling unwell.”

That is what you like to hear.

“Anything?”

“Anything.” 

His grip tightens on your throat again, for emphasis, and with that, he seems to come slightly undone.

“Darling, that’s why I’ve demanded you stay here in my home, —our home. It’s safe here, free of contaminants and filth and anything that could cause you harm,” he says, the words spilling out like he’s been holding them back since he first set his sights on you.

“The world outside is ill, not just this rotten city. I’m working tirelessly to combat this pestilence, but as things stand now, the safest place you can be is here. With me. You understand that, my love. . . Don’t you?”

You’re only half listening, but you nod in agreement anyway. Whatever he’s saying, you trust his opinion on the matter.

“Of course,” you gasp, almost slipping a finger inside yourself to the tune of his melodic voice.

“I knew you would,” he continues, loosening the grip on your neck again. “You know I only want what’s best for you, that everything I do is to ensure your safety, —to eliminate the possibility of you ever falling sick.”

“Of course,” you repeat, head growing cloudier by the minute. “You’ve always taken such good care of me, right from the very beginning.”

God, he’s so elated that you’re seeing things his way. The way this makes him feel is almost too much to handle.

“I try so hard, darling, I truly do,” he says, both hands coming up to cup your cheeks.

“Please, Lucian,” you mumble desperately, “I need you tonight.”

He complies, shedding his long coat and draping it over your shoulders once you’ve stepped out of the tub. The chill of the air against your wet skin leaves your nipples hard and sensitive, and as he leads you to the bedroom, you hope he realizes just what it is you’re asking for. His fingers are a plentiful start, and you just know they’ll feel so good stuffed inside you, curling to hit all the right places, —but they’re nothing compared to the cock he’s stingily hidden away for all this time.

Tonight, you want him in all his glory in the glow of the lanterns on the walls. You want to strip him bare and gag on the length between his thighs, feel him twitch against the roof of your mouth, tease every vein that runs up his shaft. It’s not enough to grind against him while you’re half asleep or hump his clothed thigh until you’ve left his pants damp and your pussy sopping, just begging to be fucked by this man who might just love you more than he could ever fear any virus that lurks outside these walls.

“Don’t fret,” he tells you, though it sounds more like a command than a gesture to soothe any worries, “just lie back. I’ll be sure to give you. . . A proper examination.”

You could cum just hearing that.

With half your body pressed against the headboard and his coat nearly slipping off your body completely, he sets to work in his underclothes and mask. It’s by no means an uncommon sight, but there’s something distinct about him this late evening; the way his black attire contrasts so beautifully with the stark paleness of his skin and the mystery it shrouds him in that you’re just dying to sink your teeth into. Everything hidden beneath that cautious wardrobe and that long mask. . . You’ve gotta have it. It’s a necessity.

His fingers, ungloved, begin softly with your calves, tracing senseless lines.

“I’m not so fragile,” you remind him.

For as oblivious as he can be, Lucian takes the hint, and by the time he’s reached your thighs, he’s content to give them the same treatment as your throat.

The way he splits you apart is almost painfully clinical, a thumb on either side of your lips, peering through the eye holes of his mask to admire the way your folds glisten in the orange lantern light. A few prodding strokes leave you biting your lip again, body waning in anticipation for the moment he finally turns his hand over and sinks the longest of his fingers inside you, —slowly, but deliberately. It’s impossible to see his expression, but you hope his mouth hangs open a little at the way your cunt suckles on his finger, encouraging him to prod more and maybe stuff another few inside for you to grind against.

There’s something about the warmth of his fingers that gets you off almost in equal amounts to the way he moves. Another finger inside, and you whine, halfway to an orgasm from this alone.

He’s not particulary rough in his execution, but there’s a clean meticulousness in every movement that leaves every cell in your body craving more, begging for anything he can offer. Months upon months of wanting, of dropping hints, of hoping he’d catch on and finally see things your way, —and at last, you’ve made it. And now that you’re here, you’re content to simply lie still and let him have his way with you.

“Please don’t stop,” you beg, nearly choking on the words when the tips of his fingers brush just the right spot.

“Before you’re satisfied?” He sits forward a bit, resting his free hand on your stomach to press you down onto the bed. “Darling, I couldn’t fathom it.”

You will your upper body forward, grabbing for the hand on your stomach to move it up to your throat. He squeezes, scissoring the fingers inside you, watching closely as your body shakes and your eyes roll back a bit in ecstasy.

“I’ve tried,” he says to you suddenly. “I’ve tried so desperately to be gentle with you.”

You smile.

“I appreciate that,” you answer. “But I don’t want you to be gentle at the moment.”

“That’s a dangerous request, my love,” he warns.

God, you hope so.

You reach forward and grab at the beak of his mask, pulling it upward gently until it begins to slip off and reveal the handsome face underneath. Dark hair, dark eyes, but skin almost pale enough to be sickly, you meet his gaze just long enough to ask for permission, then lean in to kiss him on the mouth. It’s the first time, and it’s electric. He’s avoided this for months, —avoided your mouth, your unspoken pleas, all the passes you made for the sake of keeping himself at bay. But here you are now with two of his fingers stuffed inside you, his hand on your throat, and your lips slotted against his own.

“Please,” you murmur, fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt.

And you can feel the restraints of his mind come unwound.

He’s no longer gentle in the way he fucks you silly with his fingers, hammering them over and over and over again into that delicious spot buried deep inside you, squeezing your throat hard enough to cut your breathing off. The way your pussy spasms as you cum is blissful, and he loves the way your arousal soaks his digits, loves the way your back arches, soundless moans spilling forth as he makes you orgasm.

“I fucking tried,” he says again.

It’s almost manic, so desperate and sort of pathetic in the kind of way that turns you on. This is the first time you’ve ever heard him curse, and it dawns on you that even the filthiest of words sound so unendingly elegant when they’re spoken by Lucian.

“I tried to be gentle. I tried to keep you safe here, —to shelter you from whatever forsaken wasteland remains out there,” he insists, his fingers still buried in your twitching cunt. “I just wanted to protect you.”

He lightens the grip on your throat as you lean in to kiss him again, cupping his face in your hands.

“You have,” you assure him.

“You take such good care of me, Lucian,” you mumble into his ear. “Let me show you how grateful I am.”

The fingers stuffed inside you slowly slip out, and reach for his hand, guiding them to your lips, taking his digits into your mouth to taste yourself on them. He watches with hunger and interest as you clean him with your tongue. He leans in to kiss you to get a taste of it himself, grasping your hair near the scalp and taking a fistful hard enough to make you gasp.

“I can’t let you leave,” he murmurs. “It’s not safe out there. When this pestilence has been subdued, I’ll do this all correctly. We can start from the beginning, and I’ll be a gentleman.”

“I look forward to it,” you answer softly.

“You’ll stay until then?” He inquires.

He’s clearly overreacting, but it’s hard to care when you just want him inside you. Lucian has seen death day in and day out, —so it’s no wonder it feels like it permeates everything around him. He just doesn’t want you to suffer such a fate, and you’re confident that you won’t, as long as he’s yours.

“Of course I will,” you answer.

It’s like something primal takes over. Suddenly his lips are on yours in a bruising kiss, and his hands are grasping roughly at your breasts, pushing you down onto the bed as he crawls between your legs. He pauses, hovering just above your dripping cunt, turning his head to sink his teeth into the meat of your thigh. It makes you squeal a bit, and he kisses the teethmarks he left behind as if in apology.

You can’t help but wonder how long he’s been yearning for this. It’s like every part of him is thrumming from the thrill of it all, and this man who has previously refused to even kiss you on the mouth is now stationed exactly where you want him, tongue lolling out to lick a solid stripe up your folds. He laps like a man starved, then spreads you apart with his thumbs to suck your clit mercilessly.

It’s good enough to make your vision go blurry, and you can’t seem to form proper words through the haze. Desperately, your fingers claw at the sheets of this mattress, and he moans against your hot cunt, sending a vibration rippling through your core that makes your back arch on instinct. You mumble something that comes out like gibberish, pussy convulsing against the flat of his tongue.

His arm comes round to press your hips down, forcing you to be still. It’s the kind of toruture you’re sure you’ll learn to live for. There’s only so much you can wriggle under his arm, which has a surprising amount of force despite his rather lanky stature.

From what little friction you manage as you attempt to grind against his tongue, you tip yourself over the edge and as the knot in your stomach unties for the second time tonight, he continues licking, lapping at the juices that spill forth.

He stands and reaches for the top button of his shirt, not bothering to wipe his face, chin and lips glistening with your aftermath. You watch him undress with lustful eyes, propping yourself up on your elbow, then slinking back against the headboard once again, resting your weary body against it. The quiver of your thighs doesn’t stop you from nudging at your swollen clit.

“I wanted to be a gentleman,” he comments, untucking the shirt from his pants and pulling the front open.

It’s not skin you haven’t seen before. In fact, you’ve seen every inch of him at one point or another; just never all at once, and now, you’re waiting with bated breath to see him completely exposed for your eyes only.

“I truly did. I wanted to give you comfort and security, —to love you as you deserve. And I knew from the moment I saw you that only I could give you exactly what you’ve always needed.”

You hum in acknowledgement as he continues to strip himself bare.

“But it’s so clear to me now that I’ve neglected you,” he continues. “This beautifully desperate display is all a result of my negligence. . . I failed to realize just how much you needed me like this. How much you needed the touch of a man. . .”

He sounds apologetic, but your eyes are fixated on his half-hard cock. The last time you saw it, he asked that you keep your mouth away; insisting it wasn’t sanitary to use it for such purposes, terrified that you might contract some sort of illness if you sucked his dick for the sheer enjoyment of doing so. This time, however, you have a feeling you’re well past that.

To test the waters, you let your hand fall away from your cunt, slipping off the side of the bed to kneel before him. He gazes down at you as you open your lips and let your tongue fall out, encouraging him to make what he will of it.

“My love,” he says, placing four fingers under your chin to rest his thumb against your tongue for a moment, “—I’ll make everything up to you. . .”

His free hand pumps his cock once, twice, thrice, —then he places it gently on the flat of your tongue, letting you feel the weight and the warmth of it. He sighs.

“Darling,” he groans, “ah. . .”

It takes very little for him to come close to cumming in your mouth, just a few minutes of sucking him off, listening to him moan, feeling him quiver at your touch. You hum with his member stuffed down your throat, and he cants his hips reflexively, an orgasm bubbling up beneath his skin.

Your non-dominant hand holds his cock steady while the other is stuck between your thighs, rubbing furiously at your clit, making you whimper along his shaft. When he notices, Lucian finds that wholly unacceptable and snatches you up to position you on the edge of the bed, relieving the pressure on your aching knees. You weren’t down there for long, but kneeling was hardly comfortable on the hard floor.

He spreads your thighs apart and smacks the pads of his fingers against your slit.

Whatever he’s doing, you’re sure you’ll enjoy it to the fullest, so you occupy yourself with his cock again from this new angle, bending awkwardly to mouth at the reddened tip. His fingers find their way inside you once more, working their delicate magic, brushing against all the right places. At this point, you’re more desperate for his dick to slip inside you like this, but you take what he offers in stride (and more of him into your mouth in the process.)

He’s vocal, and that’s utterly divine. His gravely moans and the pump of his fingers leave you cumming for a third time before his first orgasm arises, depositing a sizable amount of his seed into your mouth.

“I love you,” he huffs, —and if he were anyone else, you’d be certain it was just the oral sex talking, but no. . . Lucian wouldn’t have said it if he didn’t mean it.

Of course, he’s made similar confessions over the months, and has certainly treated you like it long before he ever expressed it so directly, but still. . . It feels nice to hear it, if nothing else.

“I love you too,” you answer honestly, urging him closer with your arms wrapped around his neck. “I’m yours tonight, completely. . . If you’ll have me. . .”

“Oh, darling, don’t be foolish,” he remarks, kissing you deeply. “You’ve been mine since the moment we met.”

Your back to the cool sheets, he lingers over you now, his shadow looming over you so monstrously. There’s a stark flush of red on his face that has begun to spread down the length of his neck, and one of his hands finds its way to your breasts as the other smoothes across your thigh. The head of his cock kisses your sopping entrance, sending a series of chills from the top of your spine to the bottom.

His breath on your neck makes your chest tighten, and he finds your lips with his own again as he sinks inside you, filling you up.

“Lucian,” you whimper, helpless to his touch as he pauses, buried down to the hilt inside your cunt.

He presses a few gentle kisses to your throat, murmuring something about how nice it feels to be stuffed inside you. He feels your nails dig into his shoulders as you adjust to his intrusion.

“You must understand by now,” he says, mumbling the words right next to your bitten earlobe. “Everything I do is for you.”

“I do,” you gasp slightly. 

As he begins to move, your walls clench around him, and he exhales deeply against the junction of your neck and shoulder. You roll your hips to match his pace, but as he goes faster, that becomes fruitless. Eventually, you resign yourself to the fate of lying there against the pillows, speared on his cock, him making a mess of you as you moan uncontrollably.

This was everything you’d been hoping for and then some, like some erotic dream come to life. Lucian’s lips travel where they please, —stopping to peck at your jaw, then to suck on your throat. Your breathing is haggard, and he smooths a hand down your side, resting it against your hip for a moment.

“Just a little more,” he whispers, as if to be reassuring.

“Just look how stunning you are, angel,” he murmurs, “how pretty you look like this.”

He kisses you once more.

“You take this so well, like your body was made for me.”

You’re delirious enough to believe that might be the case.

His cock pounds a little harder, and he hits the perfect spot, tearing a desperate yelp from your throat. You’re overstimulated and weak, but your high is itching just under your skin, and you couldn’t bear to see it disappear.

“Please,” you whimper to him, completely at his mercy, “—please, I’m so close.”

He loves the desperation that clings to your voice. The hand on your hip travels to your clit, pressing roughly against the abused little button, making you jerk slightly. He rubs a few heavy circles against it, and you come undone, cunt spasming around his cock as he chases his own release inside you.

Lucian is sloppy near the end, which may just be the only time you’ve ever known him to not be perfectly calculated and precise. His breath hits your neck again, over and over as he huffs through the hunt, finally sinking his teeth in when he comes to a finish. His cum sits hot inside your cunt, and he catches his breath for a moment, head resting against your throat.

“I apologize,” he utters. “I hope that wasn’t too much for you.”

You exhale slowly, his cock still buried in your heat.

“Don’t apologize,” you murmur, “I enjoyed myself.”

You feel him smile against your neck.

“I’m glad, darling.”

For the first time, he sleeps next to you without clothing, letting you touch every part of him, tangling your limbs together. Your face buried in the crook of his neck, breath fanning softly against him, as close to sleep as you can manage without tumbling over the precipice, Lucian reaches for his long coat and drapes it over your body, holding you closer.

[thebeesatemyknees]

141 as ex-husbands

Some ex-husband (ooc) Simon Ghost Riley, John Price, Kyle Gaz Garrick and Johnny Soap MacTavish x reader headcanons.

Word count: 860 || No warnings (let me know if any). || Reader: gender neutral. Pronouns: "you"

Note: In all four scenarios, you got divorced for fairly harmless reasons. You were getting along, you loved each other, there was no fighting. But perhaps you realised that you both have different hopes for the future. Maybe you got sick of waiting for him, missing him, of worrying if he's gonna come home alive and in one piece. Maybe he didn't realise how lonely you felt beside him.

Ex-husband Simon Riley, who still thinks of you as "his", but not in a possessive way. You're still his person, his family. He still would do anything for you and wouldn't even give it a second thought. 

You need help assembling new furniture? He can come by after work. Need a ride to the doctor's appointment? He needed to run some errands anyway, it's not a big deal. Anything happens while he's deployed? You can call his base and he'll contact you as soon as possible.

And he doesn't expect anything back. How could he? He's gonna do anything for you because that's what you're supposed to do for your people. And he'll give you your space, keep it clean between you. You wanted a divorce and he respects that, doing his best not to overstep any boundaries. He's mindful of the things he says, keeps his hands away from you. A respectful distance.

But God, does he miss you. If you showed the slightest interest in getting back together, he would agree immediately, going back to what you two had, as if the divorce never happened. 

Ex-husband John Price, who kinda forgets that you're not married anymore. Similar to Simon, John still thinks of you as his and would do anything for you without expecting anything back. 

But you often have to remind him that he's overstepping. "Darling" or "love" casually added to his sentences. Hands gently holding your shoulders or hips while he directs you to move to a different spot. He doesn't do it on purpose. The last thing he'd want is to disrespect your boundaries or make you uncomfortable. But keeping you close just comes so naturally to him.

He apologises quietly when you reprimand him, pulling his hands away and restating what he said without the pet name this time.

He wouldn't beg you to give him another chance. He's got enough respect, towards you and himself, to not be dramatic, to not make it messy. But he has a hard time accepting this new reality.

Ex-husband Kyle Garrick, who subconsciously goes back to courting you, as if your marriage never happened and all of it was still ahead of you. 

He's more distant, doesn't initiate touches, doesn't use pet names anymore. And at first you think it's because that's just how break-ups work, because he'd moved on. But it all seems to be caused by him suddenly becoming almost shy around you. 

He sends you messages from time to time, checking if you're doing alright. He asks you out for coffee, just to catch up. You ended things on good terms, so there's no harm in it, right? And you can see him trying to act casually about it. He brings you one singular flower he picked on his way to the café. Cuz you like them, don't you? It's not a big deal, he saw it and put it in the pocket of his jacket. So casual. Then, your conversation stays on a purely platonic path. Well, except for a few compliments and pick up lines he throws your way. But that's what friends do! And if you don't let him drive you home, he asks you to at least text him to let him know you got back safely.

If you confront him about his behaviour, he gets quiet. His jaw twitches, a shameful look fills his eyes as he looks away, unable to fully face you. He doesn't feel like he's in the position to defend himself, to argue. He's guilty. He wants you back for himself. And he so badly regrets letting you go without trying harder to fix things.

Ex-husband Johnny MacTavish, who becomes bitter towards the whole world. He's not happy about losing you and he's straightforward about it. He's hurt, filled with regrets, he's angry - but not directly at you. He understands and respects your wishes, but he's just so angry with himself. Angry that he didn't notice where your marriage was going, that he didn't change his ways, that he assumed that you're his and therefore he's got a lot of time to slowly fix things. Angry that he didn't do enough. 

He wouldn't hide his emotions. He wouldn't get shy,  wouldn't just quietly yearn for you. 

He keeps his hands to himself, making sure he doesn't make you uncomfortable and that you still feel safe around him. But he continuously asks you for another chance. He knows better now. He can be better. Just give him a chance. Or at least let him do this or that for you. And don't act as if him helping you is weird! He's yours, nothing will change that. He promised he'd be there in sickness and in health, and he meant it. No matter how much your life-paths split. So stop pushing him away and just let him help. He'll stop asking you for a second chance, but at least let him be there for you.

He aggressively offers himself to you. Getting upset and moody if you act as if he was more akin to a stranger rather than someone who belonged, body and soul, to you.

[thehauntedetheral]

Yan Husband x Pregnant Reader ~

Requests are open!

• You and your husband has been married for 3 years and you have a happy marriage that your life couldn't get any better

• Until one day you realise your period has been late a few weeks. You take a pregnancy test and found out you guys are gonna become parents.

• You told yan about your pregnancy and now you are the happiest couple in world. You always thought yan husband is very protective? Well get ready darling because this man is gonna get double protective and stress out about every single thing till the baby is born.

• Yan Husband who hires the most famous, experienced and expensive gynecologist in city.

• Buys every pregnancy book available and remembers every single thing mentioned in it

• Food cravings? My love he would go buy anything even at middle of night. But you wanted from that specific shop? Well then he is going to make owner open the shop and make food for you at the middle of night no in between.

• Makes the most nutritious breakfast, lunch, dinner by himself. Makes you eat fruits, homemade smoothies that even professional fitness coaches plan is colourless compared to his.

• Reads so many pregnancy articles, cases and watches video. The only thing remaining now is getting a medical degree which he thinks upon to get just in case which you have to put a stop on.

• Constantly checking your blood pressure, sugar levels, pulse that he has become personal doctor of yours.

• Going with you on walks, doing yoga together.

• Buys all the baby stuff with the most safety guarantee even if the price is ridiculous. When it comes to you and baby nothing is expensive.

• Takes leave from work or work from home throughout your pregnancy. Won't let you go out of his sight.

• Won't even let you lift a finger and you are thinking about continuing job? THAT'S JUST STRAIGHT UP NO.

• Baby proofs that whole house. Always looking up at nutritious recipes for pregnant ladies on internet.

• Buys everything that he finds adorable and spending unnecessarily very high that you have to sit him down and explain the budget but still doesn't listen.

• Wants Baby to look like you because you are the most beautiful person in this world for him.

• Attends every doctor's appointment with you like a ritual and bores doctor to death with his constant questions about your pregnancy. Don't be surprised if you find him talking to doctor and asking a question at two in night.

• Talks and kisses to your baby bump everyday and mostly talk about you to baby telling how much lucky he is to have you and how much he loves you both.

• Has multiple panick attacks through out your pregnancy just thinking about you and baby's safety.

• When your water broke and the contraction begins he is just a centimetre away from having a heart attack.

• When you are under going labour threatens doctor that if anything happens to you or the baby the doctor will become a dead body.

Want part 2? Let me know through comments.

Requests are open!

Read more yandere fics:

[deadsetobsessions]

“I think I’m going to move to Gotham,” Jazz’s tapped away at her laptop, clicking through her college acceptance letters. Danny sat up from where he was scrolling through his phone and stared at her. “Thoughts?”

“And prayers,” he sassed. “Because you’re going to need them. Why the would you pick Gotham when Harvard accepted you?”

“Gotham has Arkham. And Doctor Quinzel.”

“Isn’t she Harley Quinn? The Crime Princess of Gotham?”

“Yeah, and an acclaimed psychologist with hundreds of published work that revolutionized the mental health field! Sure, she’s more criminally inclined now, but I’d kill to pick her brains.”

Danny grinned. “Interesting word choice. You’d fit right in. It’s just weird that all of their psychologists turned into villains.”

“Okay, but I won’t. You’d stop me.”

“Or I’d join you,” Danny rolled back onto the floor.

“Don’t you dare, Daniel Fenton. You’d better stop me if I went villain.”

“But I feel like you’d have a pretty good reason for it though?”

“I appreciate the trust, dumbass, but I’m always this close to loosing it.” Jazz rolled her eyes as she jabbed a finger at Danny.

“Hah! You’ll fit right into Gotham!”

Jazz hummed. “So, Gotham?”

“Yeah, why not?”

——

“Danny!”

“Little busy!” Danny dodged a blast from a GIW agent.

“Why’d you pick up, then?”

“You don’t call often- hey, can you guys knock it off? I’m on a call!” Danny shouted. Surprisingly the agents stopped.

“Woah. You guys actually stopped?”

“We’re anti-ghost, not rude cavemen. Finish your call, Phantom, so we can get back to capturing you.” The agent with red hair said. Her partner nodded their head.

“Riiiight.” Phantom floated away a bit. “What did you want to talk about?” He asked Jazz.

“So, Dr. Quinzel-”

Danny heard a further off “Call me Harley, darling!”

“Harley,” Jazz continued seamlessly. “Is dating Ivy, a meta! Which, totally cute and their relationship is so healthy. Goals, honestly-”

Danny heard another far off comment, “Awe, thanks, Jazzy-wazzy!”

“But long story short, they got in touch with the Justice League about the GIW and they’re getting pulled back! And disbanded! Are you fighting the agents? Can you see if they’ve got the order to pull back?”

“Wait, seriously?” Danny perked up, the exhaustion from the fight all but gone. “I’ll ask.”

Danny turned to the two agents, pulling the phone away from his ear. “Hey! Did you guys get orders to stop hunting me? I heard the Justice League got involved.”

“What? We didn’t-”

“Shit, wait, we got orders.” Her partner jabbed their phone at her.

“Fuck. This isn’t over, Phantom!”

“Yeah, yeah! Shoo!” Danny watched them peel away. “Thanks, Jazz! Maybe I’ll finally get a peaceful school year.”

“R.I.P.” Jazz solemnly intoned.

“Dead-ass.” Danny replied, just as seriously before the both of them broke. Cackling, Danny said goodbye to Jazz.

“Maybe I should get some gifts? Hm… Undergrowth has some rare plants.” Danny muttered as he flew back home.

[nats--sw]

Inherited Talent | Leah Williamson

Leah Williamson x reader Leah has finally convinced you that it’s time for your daughter to take her first steps into the world of football. This is based on this universe hey, so, Olivia has grown up a little my masterlist

“There are a lot of girls here,” Olivia murmured, squeezing your hand a little tighter.

“Well, it’s the first day,” you replied, trying to keep your voice cheerful despite the fact that, just like Olivia, your nerves were getting to you.

Leah, on the other hand, was in her element. She moved through the crowd with ease, greeting everyone, posing for pictures with some of the staff, and even a few of the girls who were there for the same as Olivia. Out of the three of you, she was definitely the most excited.

“Why are there boys too?” Olivia asked, hiding behind you as you both followed Leah.

Leah, catching up to Olivia’s question, smiled warmly. “It’s good for boys and girls to play together when they’re young,” she explained. “Once they’re older, they split the teams, but don’t worry, you’ll be on an all-girls team.”

You bit your lip, feeling a bit uneasy. Some of the boys and girls looked a lot bigger than Olivia, who was just barely on the edge of the minimum height for her age group.

This wasn’t new, it’s something you and Leah had talked about for months. Leah had been buzzing about Olivia joining the academy for ages. You, on the other hand, had always tried to push the idea off for as long as you could. But as soon as Olivia turned seven, Leah had come home with the Arsenal academy program in hand, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

And today was the junior tryout, and as Leah had reassured you the night before, all the kids would be accepted. After all, they were still so young, just children starting out.

“Okay, they’re about to start,” Leah said, hands on her hips, eyeing the pitch, which was noticeably smaller than a regular one. “You ready, Livy?”

But Olivia had backed away a few steps, her attention caught by a group of older girls across the field.

“Love, are you sure this is a good idea?” you muttered, lowering your voice as you shot Leah a slightly worried look.

Leah turned to you, her expression turning serious. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just… Livy’s still so little.”

“Darling, when I was her age, I was already playing with boys older than me,” Leah said, waving it off like it was no big deal. “This is nothing. Don’t worry.”

“But-”

“The doctor said more physical activity would help her, right? This’ll be good for her. Trust me.”

You opened your mouth to push back, but Leah had already wandered over to Olivia, gently nudging her along to join the other girls in her group.

You sighed, dropping down onto a nearby bench, keeping a bit of distance from the other parents. Leah could be so stubborn sometimes, and when it came to Olivia, she was far from objective. It didn’t help that, honestly, Livy wasn’t all that great at football.

Sure, Leah was the pro here, but you’d watched her play every week for over a decade, so you knew enough to tell when someone had that spark. And Olivia… well, let’s just say she struggled with her coordination.

Like most kids her age, she was a bit of a clumsy one, always tripping over her feet or bumping into things while running around the house. But she had it worse than most.

“Where’s your head at?” Leah’s laugh snapped you out of your thoughts as she sat down beside you, her face still full of excitement.

You gave her a sideways glance. “You really think Livy’s up for this?”

Leah’s smile faded, and she let out a sigh, clearly tired of the conversation. “Darling, Olivia’s not going to become a footballer overnight. It’s going to take work, that’s why we’re here. Trust me, no girl here is better than our daughter.”

How wrong Leah had been.

She cringed as the other girls darted past Olivia, barely noticing she was even there. Your daughter had hardly touched the ball once, and when she did, she ended up on the ground, tangled up in her own legs.

At this age, they didn’t really bother with positions in football, it was just a swarm of kids chasing the ball around, trying to kick it into the net. And there was Liv, hanging at the edge of the group, her attention everywhere but where it should’ve been.

Then came the shootout practice. Leah couldn’t help but shift uncomfortably each time it was Olivia’s turn to kick. It was either painfully slow, that the ball didn’t even reach the coach -who was standing in as the goalie- or a wild shot that flew wide of the goal altogether.

“What do you think now?” you muttered under your breath as you both made your way down the bleachers. Maybe this was the reality check Leah needed, seeing other girls Olivia’s age and finally accepting that football might not be Liv’s thing.

Leah shrugged, clinging to her optimism. “Just nerves, the first day and all” she said, then her smile softened the moment Olivia came running towards her.

“Hi, mommy!” Olivia panted, looking absolutely adorable. Her kit was a bit too big, even though it was meant to be her size, and her cheeks were flushed bright red, just like Leah’s after a long match in the sun.

“There’s my little star,” Leah grinned, scooping her up and brushing stray hairs off her forehead. “How was it, love?”

Olivia shrugged, looking a bit worn out. “Can we go home now?” she asked, glancing at you with those big, tired eyes.

“Yeah, let’s get you home,” you said with a smile.

Leah was just about to put her down when the coach approached with a man holding a camera.

“Excuse me, Leah, would you mind if we...?” the coach gestured to the camera.

Leah sighed lightly but waved her hand. “Sure, go ahead,” she said, setting Olivia down gently.

“We’d love to get a few shots of you and your daughter,” the camera guy chimed in. “It’s important for the academy, you know, showing that one of our top players, who came through the programme herself, trusts us to guide her daughter too.”

The coach smiled, but Leah’s stomach flipped after watching Olivia out there on the pitch.

“Of course,” she said, managing a nervous smile as she pulled Olivia close for the photo.

“You know, plenty of footballers' kids don’t end up playing football,” you said as you slipped into bed that night. “Look at Becks’ kids, for example.”

“You’re really not helping,” Leah grumbled, eyes fixed on her phone as she replied to a few messages from her teammates, who’d been buzzing after seeing Olivia’s pictures from the academy.

“Lee…”

“Livy likes football,” Leah said, finally putting her phone down and turning to you.

“Yeah, she does,” you agreed, scooting closer and resting your arm over her stomach, head on her chest. Leah’s hand instinctively found its way to your hair, gently playing with the strands. “I just don’t want you to think you’re forcing her into it or something.”

“I know that’s exactly what you’re thinking tho.”

“Leah, I just want you to realize that Olivia’s not you... at least not yet.”

Leah sighed, a little stubbornness still hanging in the air. “Fine, but she’ll keep training, on her own terms. No one’s born knowing how to kick a ball, you know?” she said, determined as ever.

You let out a quiet sigh, knowing this conversation was far from over, but you’d let it rest for now.

Almost two months had passed, and honestly, there wasn’t much progress.

You were the one driving Olivia to practice during the week, which she actually enjoyed. But on weekends, it was Leah’s turn, unless she was busy with a match. Those were the days Olivia wasn’t too keen on, since Leah would often stick around at the academy for an extra half-hour, kicking balls with her.

“Mummy!”

You were getting ready to take Olivia to the academy, even though there wasn’t any training today, Leah's team had a league cup match, and the academy kids were going along to watch.

“What’s up, love?” you asked, looking up and feeling a bit concerned when you saw she wasn’t in her jersey but in her everyday clothes.  “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” you said, setting your stuff aside and guiding her over to the couch.

“I’m not sure if I want to go see mommy today,” she mumbled, fiddling with her fingers.

“Why not?”

From a young age, Olivia had understood Leah’s celebrity status- her mother was practically famous in the sports world, always on tv or the radio, with people constantly asking for photos. Olivia had always had to share her mom’s attention with adults and teens wanting selfies or autographs when they were out. But now she wasn’t handling it well with her teammates getting so much of Leah’s attention too.

“Is something wrong, love?” you asked.

“I don’t want to see mommy if my teammates are there,” she said, tears starting to brim.

“I don’t quite follow, sweetheart…”

You tried to remember every time you’d been to Olivia’s practices. None of the other kids were ever mean or annoying, and Liv seemed to get along with most of her teammates.

“Mommy doesn’t like me that much...” she sobbed, and it broke your heart to see her so sad.

You scooped her up and settled her on your lap, rocking her gently. “How could mommy not like you?” you said, managing a sad smile as you wiped away her tears. “You’re the most important thing in the world to both mommy and me,” you reassured her, but Olivia just shook her head.

“Mom prefers Millie”

You looked at her, a bit confused. “Who’s Millie?”

“My teammate, number 10,” Olivia said, and you vaguely remembered one of the taller girls from her group. “She’s always playing with mom and me, but mom ends up playing with her more because I get tired first.”

Ah, now you recalled a bit of a late night chat with Leah, where she’d mentioned a little girl who played really well. At the time, you’d just thought it was Leah going on about football again.

“Sweetheart...” you whispered, pulling her into a tighter hug. It’s okay if you don’t want to go. We don’t have to.” You gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead. “What would you like to do instead?”

“Can you play with me for a bit?” she asked, rubbing her eyes. She then hopped off your lap and grabbed one of the many balls lying around the house. “Can we?”

You nodded and got up from the couch, following Olivia to the backyard where Leah had set up a goal. You kicked off your shoes to keep them clean and watched Olivia’s face light up with excitement. It had been a while since she’d looked that happy, even though she played regularly with Leah after school. You had a feeling that what used to be a fun activity was now feeling more like a chore, and let’s be real, no one really wanted Leah Williamson as their coach all the time.

“Well, you know I’m not exactly like mom,” you said, giving the ball a nudge with your foot. “So don’t judge me if I’m not that great.”

“I know you’re not like mom,” Olivia giggled, heading for the goal. “Can you kick the ball from there?” she asked, getting into position.

“Do you want to play like that?” you asked, tilting your head, thinking she’d just want to run after you with the ball.

Olivia shook her head and giggled as your shot went off towards the garden.

“I did say I’m not like mom,” you said, going to get the ball.

When Leah got home, Olivia was already tucked up in bed, fast asleep and ready for school the next morning. You were still with your laptop, wrapping up some work.

“Love?” Leah called out, dropping her bag on the floor. “Hey, how’s everything?” She leaned in for a kiss, but when she noticed you didn’t return it, she pulled back. “What’s up? Is Livy still feeling sick?”

You’d told Leah a small lie about Liv having a stomach ache earlier, which was why you both had missed the game in the afternoon.

“Livy’s fine, it was nothing serious,” you said, shutting down your laptop and patting the spot next to you on the couch. “We need to talk about something…”

“About what?” Leah asked, looking confused.

“I think you’re being a bit too… hard on her,” you said gently.

“Are we still on about this? Look, if Olivia didn’t enjoy playing, I wouldn’t push her. But she likes it, you’ve said it yourself, she now has new friends and she’s improving, even if it’s just a bit.”

“It’s not just that, Leah. Liv’s a really sensitive kid. She’s not like you.”

“What do you mean?” Leah asked, her face getting serious.

“Liv’s more like me- she’s sentimental and emotional. She picks up on things.”

Leah pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a frustrated sigh. “Love, can you just be straightforward, please?”

“Olivia knows she’s not the best at football, and she can tell it... bothers you.”

“It doesn’t bother me,” Leah shot back quickly, but you just shook your head.

“Maybe not directly, but you’d like her to be more like the other girls at the academy.”

Leah went quiet and shuffled a bit on the couch.

“My point is… Liv needs you as her mom, not just her coach.”

“I think you’re overreacting,” Leah said, a hint of irritation in her voice.

“Leah,” you said more firmly this time. “Olivia’s always craved your attention, and not just-” you raised a hand when you saw her about to interrupt. “I’m not saying you don’t give it to her, but she needs more. Especially now that she’s worried if she’s not good enough, she might lose your attention to another girl.”

“It’s not-”

“I’m not done,” you said. “And I’ll say it again: she doesn’t want your attention as a footballer. She wants your attention as her mother. So, from now on, football is banned in this house.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“I don’t want you chatting about football at the dinner table or chasing Liv around to play, and no more academy talk unless it’s absolutely necessary. She’s already feeling insecure about it, and you’re not helping.”

“Darling, how can you ban a hobby I share with my daughter?” Leah asked, looking upset.

“There are plenty of other hobbies out there. Find something else.”

Leah dropped her head in defeat, now looking a bit embarrassed.

“Is that why you both didn’t go today?” she asked, her voice tinged with sadness.

“Yeah, I think she didn’t want her teammates reminding her of how good you are. She’s a bit scared of being compared to you.” you said softly. 

Leah shook her head, her expression softening.

“And I spoke with your mum... and I’m sorry, but she was a bit angry with you. Said you were being a bit of a jerk.”

Leah shot you an offended look. “She was no better than I am now.”

“But she used to get a more positive response from you,” you pointed out. “You two are just as stubborn as each other, so if you wanted to train before school, she’d have just gone along with it.” You rested your hand on her thigh as you saw her processing this.

“And Olivia isn’t like me,” she finally said quietly.

“No, she’s not,” you agreed.

“God, I’m such a terrible mother,” Leah said, burying her face in her hands.

“You’re not a terrible mother, Lee,” you said, gently taking her hands away from her face. “We’re still figuring this out. It’s not easy, and we’re going to mess up now and again, and probably a lot more.”

Leah, with a distant look in her eyes, let go of your hands and leaned back on the couch, resting her head on your lap.

“Now I’m feeling pretty sad,” Leah said. “I was all upbeat coming in because we had a win-” she cut herself off. “Can I still talk about our win today, or is that banned too?”

You shook your head, rolling your eyes a bit.

You heard Leah take a deep breath. With one hand, you gently stroked her hair, which was still damp from her shower before she came home.

“So what do we do now?” she asked.

“Now, we need to take a step back and chill out,” you said. “We need to give Liv some space. Maybe we should find some other stuff she might enjoy besides football. Remember how you used to spend all day watching movies and eating in bed? Maybe she’d like to do things like that with you again. I just want her to know she’s enough for you, no matter what. I know she is, and I’d never doubt that, but she’s a kid and needs to see it more clearly.”

Leah nodded, though her gaze seemed a bit lost as she reflected on everything that had happened over the past month. 

“I just wanted her to feel strong, you know? To have that fire in her. The world can be harsh, and I don’t want her to get hurt…she’s so tiny.”

“I know…” you murmured softly, gently tracing the contours of Leah’s face, something that always helped her relax.

“Football made me tough as a kid and taught me to stand up for myself, fend for myself- I wanted the same for our daughter…I didn’t think it was the wrong way.”

“There are other ways to show her that, love. We’re here for that, and we need to help her see her worth for who she is, not just as a mini version of you to earn your respect and attention.”

As you traced your finger down Leah’s nose, she let a few tears fall. “I feel awful… I never meant for her to think I’m disappointed in her or that I prefer other kids over my own daughter.”

“I know,” you said, pulling her close, the same way you had comforted Olivia hours earlier. “But you sometimes have a hard time showing certain things, so you need to make the effort to really show her. Tell her again how much you love her and how proud you are of her.”

“You’re a better mum than I am,” she said with a sad smile.

“Not at all,” you said, making a face. “I’ve messed up too, and you’ve been the one to help me fix things. We’re a team, Lee. We’re here to support each other, especially when it comes to Liv.”

“Let’s just say we’re both doing our best,” Leah said, laughing a bit as she wiped away her tears. “I’ll have a chat with her tomorrow after school, no talk about football, just us.”

You smiled, giving her a gentle push to get her off your lap. “Sounds good,” you said, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

Leah sighed again, and you could tell she wouldn’t be at ease until she talked to Olivia.

“Thanks for helping me see things clearer,” she said, looking a bit awkward, knowing this could have been avoided if she’d listened to you earlier.

“That’s what I’m here for,” you said, standing up from the couch and offering her a hand to help her up.

“I love you,” she said, giving you a kiss.

Even after all these years, Leah Williamson’s kisses still had that same spark.

“I love you too,” you said, taking her hand as you started walking. “Let’s get to bed. I’m definitely not forgetting to celebrate that amazing assist you pulled off in today’s game,” you said with a cheeky wink, making Leah smile.

The next day, Olivia burst into your home office, chocolate smeared all over her face but grinning from ear to ear.

“Hi, mummy!” she exclaimed, running up to give you a kiss on the cheek, leaving a chocolate streak behind.

“Did you have ice cream before dinner?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Mom said it’s a special treat just for today,” Liv replied, as Leah walked in with some wipes in one hand and Liv’s school bag in the other.

“Just for today,” Leah repeated, making sure you weren’t in a meeting with your camera on before leaning in for a quick kiss. “You smell like chocolate,” she laughed, noticing the ice cream remnants on your cheek.

“And you taste like vanilla,” you said, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand.

“Me? Vanilla? I don’t think so,” Leah said with a cheeky grin, and you just rolled your eyes, trying not to smile.

“Idiot.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Leah said, turning around to grab Liv’s arm as she tried to sneak away. “Hey, no, no, no,” Leah said firmly.

“But, mommy-”

“Let me get the chocolate off you first,” Leah said, pulling out a wipe and gently wiping it from Olivia’s mouth.

It was absolutely charming to see Leah’s motherly side; it was something you never tired of seeing.

“There, now you’re all clean,” Leah said proudly. “My precious girl,” she murmured, stroking Liv’s cheeks as she wrinkled her nose. “What would I do without you, huh?”

“You wouldn’t be a mommy,” Liv said, shaking her head, and you chuckled.

Leah shook her head and let out a giggle too.

“Exactly, Liv,” she said, giving her a kiss on the forehead. “Now go and do your homework, okay? Then we can watch some movies.”

Liv sighed dramatically and dragged her feet and backpack out of the office.

You and Leah exchanged a look, admiring the dramatic flair your daughter had.

“She’s definitely your daughter,” you said with a grin, turning back to your work.

“Darling!” Leah came rushing over, weaving through the crowd of parents trying to find a spot in the stands. It was the last game of the season for the kids' teams, and the place was packed.

Leah had just got off a plane from a friendly match abroad, so she arrived only minutes before kick-off.

“I didn’t think you’d make it,” you said, moving aside to let her sit.

Leah shook her head and gave you a quick peck on the lips. “I promised Olivia I’d be here... though I was a bit surprised at how insistent she was that I come,” she said, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness that she tried to cover with a smile.

Olivia had asked you a few weeks ago to start taking her to her training sessions instead of Leah, and given the sensitive nature of the situation, Leah didn’t want to intrude.

“You do know your daughter doesn’t hate you, right?” you said quietly, resting your hand on Leah’s thigh. “You’re still her favorite mom, actually.”

Leah just hummed and avoided your gaze, as if the empty field had suddenly become the most interesting thing.

A few minutes later, the girls appeared on the field, and Leah’s face dropped when she didn’t spot Olivia.

“Where’s Livy?” she asked, looking a bit worried.

“She’s over there,” you pointed to the little girl standing second, wearing a black cap and a goalie’s kit. Leah clearly hadn’t recognised her because she had no clue her daughter had changed positions.

“W-what?” Leah asked, surprised, but her face brightened when she saw Olivia giving her a small wave.

“It was a surprise,” you said, trying to hide your grin.

“But Liv’s never played as a goalie,” Leah said, a bit confused.

“Well, it turns out she’s actually quite good. She saves all my shots that go all over the place,” you said, remembering how Olivia would bounce around, not caring about scraping her knees whenever you threw the ball in the wrong direction.

Leah was lost for words. She didn’t want to seem biased because it was her daughter in goal, and she was trying to overlook the fact that the girls trying to score on Olivia weren’t the best, but she loved Olivia’s determination to catch every ball, even if it meant taking a few hits in the face.

“We are calling Mary as soon as we’re out of here,” Leah said, her eyes still glued to the game.

“Alright, let’s put that on hold for now,” you said, trying to soften the intensity in your wife’s gaze. “Let’s remember, this is supposed to be pressure-free.”

“Yeah, alright, love,” Leah said, sounding distracted. You could tell she wasn’t really listening.

“What was that?!” Leah exclaimed, opening her arms as Olivia came running towards you both with a small trophy shaped like a glove and a medal hanging around her neck.

“Did you like it, mommy?” Olivia asked with excitement.

“What, of course I did! Even Alessia couldn’t score on you if she tried!” Leah said, showering Olivia’s cheeks with kisses in exaggerated enthusiasm.

Normally, you wouldn’t join in with Leah’s exaggerated praise, but right now Olivia needed a confidence boost.

“I’d say you’re even better than Mary,” you whispered against her cheek. “We’re so proud of you.”

“My daughter’s a superstar,” Leah said, pulling out her phone. “Alright, now smile for the camera. We need to get these photos for grandma before she scolds me again, besides she’s still mad at me”

Leah and Olivia had gone to the car while you had to run back because Olivia had forgotten her cap in the locker room. By the time you got to the parking lot, it was almost empty, with just your car and Leah’s left. You saw them standing by Leah’s car.

“…You don’t have to come back next season,” you overheard Leah saying to Olivia.

“I like coming here now, mom.”

“Are you sure? We can look for another sport... or any other activity you’re into. It doesn’t have to be football,” Leah said softly.

“But I like it.”

“Aren’t you just saying that because I like football too?”

“Yes, but I like it as well, mom.”

“Right. But remember, if you decide you don’t like this anymore, I won’t push you. I don’t want you doing things just to please me, or anyone else. Do you understand, love?”

The tenderness Leah showed in her conversation with Olivia touched your heart. You knew Leah could be a bit much at times, but you were certain she’d always put your daughter’s happiness first.

[moonstruckme]

Hii! I love your fics so much and I was wonder if you could do a emt marauders fix where the reader gets a concussion? I just got another one and it’s really taken a toll on me. (Again, I love your work SO MUCH!! It’s so comforting!!)

Hi my sweetheart! I'm so sorry, I swear I highlighted emt marauders when I was writing this request but somehow along the way I seemed to forget that it was supposed to be the au, I hope this is still alright (I'm very down to do another for emt specifically if you would like)! And I really hope you're doing okay!! Concussions are so rough, I hope your recovery is going well <3

cw: concussion

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Sirius wakes to shushing sounds from down the hall. Bright sunlight has snuck in through the cracks in the blinds, laying itself down in slats across the bed. He’s laying nearly sideways with no one else to shove him away, one of his feet dangling off the side of the mattress and his head on the opposite pillow. 

He gets up though his body doesn’t want to, following hushed voices into the living room. The curtains are drawn closed here, too, though it’s light enough for Sirius to make you both out clearly, you sitting on the couch and Remus with your hands in his, speaking to you in a hushed voice while slow tears dribble off your chin. 

“Hey.” Sirius’ voice betrays his lethargy, but you don’t seem to notice. You look up with shiny eyes as he steps into the room. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?” 

The answer takes time to come to you. Sirius isn’t sure if you’re searching for the words or if your thoughts are just evading you as they have been since you got hurt, but his heart twinges when your brows bunch in concentration. 

Remus only looks at you steadily. He’s been the most patient with you; Sirius and James both have the urge to guess at the ends to your sentences when you get stuck, but Remus only waits, letting you parse it out in your own time. 

“I’m sad. Frustrated,” you decide, though you look more glum than angry. You sniff. “I want to be better already.” 

Sirius nods in both understanding and sympathy, going to sit behind you on the couch. He knows Remus isn’t the most tactile, but it kills him to see you with your shoulders shaking and no arms wrapped around them. He’s quick to remedy this.

“We were playing cards,” Remus explains in his quiet way (a way Sirius has been trying to mimic to accommodate your sound sensitivity, though it doesn’t come easily to him), “and she just got a bit upset when she didn’t remember whether aces were high or low.” 

Sirius tsks, nosing at your cheek. “That’s common enough, darling. It can go either way.” 

“That’s what I said,” Remus tells him. His thumbs carve twin paths up the sides of your palms. “It hardly matters, I’m happy to play with them high or low.” 

“I just wish I knew like usual,” you say, though you already seem to be calming. Your voice has taken on that distant quality again. It still sounds like you, just a tad dazed, like when you first wake up in the mornings. 

Sirius rubs up and down your shoulder, pressing his lips to the side of your chin. He can’t imagine it’s comfortable, feeling so unlike yourself. Worse to know it’s not changing soon. You hit your head a few days ago, and it’ll probably be some time until you feel completely normal again. 

Sirius has been told he can be dramatic, but when you’d fallen he honestly thought for a second that you were dead, you were so still. In the pandemonium of sirens and doctors and waiting rooms that had followed, James and Remus had each taken a bit of time to process things, get their emotions in order, but Sirius has never been able to cry in public. When they finally got to take you home, he’d gotten in the shower and cried so hard he thought he’d throw up. He’s honestly not sure if he’s ever been so terrified in his life. After you got into bed that night he’d hugged you so hard you’d called him James, and your boyfriends had all laughed before they realized you weren’t joking. 

He and Remus hold you in silence for some time. None of you seem to mind. Sirius is still too sleepy to get bored, you’re presumably too concussed, and Remus is still Remus. He can look at the two of you all day and never need a diversion. 

The room seems to come alive when James gets home, not only because of his sparkling personality but also because he lets in a bunch of sunlight and a cacophony of street noise with him. 

“Hello, my loves,” he says, adjusting his volume halfway through the sentence. He shuts the door behind him with care, dropping his rugby bag onto the floor with far less. “How are we doing?” 

“I’m doing horrible,” Sirius says, though it’s obvious he was really only asking about you. “I haven’t had anything to eat yet today.” 

“You have just woken up,” Remus points out with a droll look, but James indulges him. 

He sets a big hand on Sirius’ head and kisses between his own fingers. He smells like dirt and sweat, gross on anyone else but hot when it’s him. James gives you the same treatment next, palm stroking down the back of your head protectively. 

“You alright, lovie?” he murmurs. 

You hum. “Why?” 

“Nothing.” His eyes slide to Sirius, a question in them. “You look as though you might’ve had a cry, that’s all.” 

“Water under the bridge,” Sirius assures him, giving you a firm squeeze. “We’re all good now, just very hungry and in need of someone to make sandwiches for lunch. Right, baby?” 

You nod amenably, but Remus fixes you with a curious look. 

“Are you hungry, dove?” he asks. 

You take some time to mull this over. Sirius bites the inside of his lip to restrain himself, and he can see James doing the same to his cheek. It’s a good thing that you’re taking such a thorough inventory of yourself, he supposes, but it’s agonizing to watch how much effort it takes you. After a while, you say, “I think so.” 

Remus nods. “Alright. We had a snack a bit ago, but if you’re hungry you should eat. I can make sandwiches,” he shoots Sirius a teasing look as he starts to stand, “since I’m not in the habit of taking advantage of those who’ve just got home from training.” 

“No, sit.” James urges Remus back down with a hand on his shoulder, squeezing fondly. “I’ve got it, I’m on an adrenaline roll right now anyway. Egg and cress all around?” 

“Yes, please,” Remus says. You echo a moment later. 

Sirius can’t seem to detach himself from you, which isn’t unusual but has been worse since your injury. He dots kisses along the edge of your jaw to amuse himself. 

“Are you feeling tired?” Remus asks you. “You haven’t had a nap yet today.” 

Sirius waits for the inevitable joke about your nursing home schedule, but it doesn’t come. You must not be feeling up to it. 

You shrug, mumbling, “I’m okay.” 

“Have a nap with me after lunch,” Sirius says. “I’m knackered, and I could use a cuddle buddy.” 

You make a confused humming sound. “Were you just asleep?” 

“I was,” he admits readily. “And it’ll be even better the second time around, with you there.” 

[andersonfilms]

CURRENTLY THINKING ABOUT...

doctor!abby who you meet for the first time when she’s covering the emergency room. you’re a patient, suffering from abdominal pain and a high fever. it’s pretty quiet, and it’s also three in the morning on a wednesday. late night shifts weren’t unfamiliar territory for her, she only had a few more hours left and she would be calling it a night.

doctor!abby who greets you with a soft smile as she glazes over your chart, before introducing herself. even with all the pain you’re in, you try your best to muster the courage to put on your best face, but you’re in pain and it’s evident.

doctor!abby tells you she wants to run a few more tests after you explain to her what brought you back in here. she tells the intern to notify her when your test results come back in. she believes it’s your appendix, inflamed and your symptoms masking themselves as a flu doesn’t help. it’s why the last hospital had missed it when you came in a week ago.

doctor!abby attempts to stir the thought of you from her mind. you're a patient. she's your doctor, and she'll be your surgeon if she's right about your prognosis. abby can't think about how you're extremely easy on the eyes. how your eyelashes compliment your eyes, accentuating the darling hue she could get lost in if she allowed herself. your voice floats over her heart like honey, sweetening her up at her very core. it's sickening how she wants to swallow every bit of it.

doctor!abby finds it a little hard to believe she feels this way just after one brief interaction with you. she prides herself on being professional, being distant enough from the patient. she has to be, her focus needs to be lasered when she's in the operating room. she can't think of how beautiful you are, how much she wants to flirt with you, and how she would if she'd met you anywhere but this godforsaken hospital. god has a special kind of torture for making you her patient. she can just be your surgeon. cut you open, patch you up, and send you back home. it's all she can do.

doctor!abby wants to uppercut this intern’s jaw. it’s really not their fault, but you’re undeniably in pain and they were attending to another patient before giving your results to the lab. but it’s more than clear with the results coming back, it’s your appendix and she’s sure at this point it’s ruptured. fresh tears spring to your eyes as she explains they need to get you into surgery right away, before any further damage can happen.

doctor!abby watches as you wipe your tears away, embarrassed you’re crying in front of the stupidly hot doctor. it’s mortifying, and you hated to be like this in front of anyone. abby’s expression is focused, cold even. she reassures you the intern is going to prep you for surgery, the weight in your shoulders drops, but the pain persistent.

doctor!abby who is elated when the surgery goes smoothly. you wake up several hours later with slight discomfort, but you’re recovering nicely. she was supposed to leave the hospital hours ago, but couldn't bring herself too. the thoughts of you coming out of anthesia after your surgery, telling her how gorgeous she is and how briliant she is to save your life.

doctor!abby who was thankful you wouldn't remember her cheeks flushed, dazed eyes and a stupid smile from your compliment alone — thankfully no one to see how unprofessional she was being. how her stupid, caring heart couldn't seem to control itself around you. she blamed your eyes. they were too easy to get fall for, making her get lost in nostalgia, as if she’d loved you in some past life.

doctor!abby who thinks about you even after you’re discharged. you’re home, healthy, and should be out of her mind but you’re not. your existence stretched into every thought of hers. god, maybe it’s impenetrable, rose-colored glasses affecting her judgement, but she wonder what it would be like to see you out of the walls of this hospital. she imagines picking you up for a first date, holding your hand sweetly even if she was nervous — god — she thinks about kissing you the most. she would savor every moment if you let her.

doctor!abby who happens to see you again at dina’s place or more accurately, you’re waiting in the pouring rain, downright soaked. lightning paints the skies, cracking thunder rumbles making you jump as your rubs your hands along your forearms trying to regain some warmth. she’s never been more thankful for her loud neighbor. of all the people in the seattle area dina could be friends with it’s you. the woman she can’t stop thinking about, the beautiful goddess she dreams about is within her reach and she’s definitely going to take advantage of it.

abby softly greets you not wanting to frighten you, declaration of her appearance known as she says your name eloquently. it’s the hot doctor, oh my god. oh my god.

“dr. anderson?” you question, a hint of a smile wanting to escape and abby takes note. your hair is wet, silky, hint of curls forming. drops of the rain flow over supple cheeks, falling over wet lips.

yet again, abby is reminded of just how beautiful you are. butterflies swarm the pit of her stomach at your excitement to see her. you’re surprised but you can’t stop looking at her. it’s a relief, the hope you might feel the same as her.

“please, just abby.” so distracted by her, domineering presence you noticed the umbrella she had, shielding you from the dreadful rain. but it really didn’t seem too terrible. not when she was in your company.

abby was shed of her white coat, only wearing navy blue scrubs and simple tennis shoes for comfort. biceps sculpted to the heavens, slightly wet from the rain which seemed to make them appear even more delicious. you want to eat her right up.

“i’m so confused. you live here?” abby gestures to the house right next door. “yeah, right next door.”

“i was just coming home and you looked…..wet.” abby silently cursed herself for being so goddamn awkward. it was worth it though, your small laugh an equal reward.

“if you want, you can come to mine. dry off, not get completely soaked while you wait for dina.” abby offers sweetly. “totally up to you, but my home is pretty damn cozy. warm too.”

the two of you are smiling like idiots. abby’s hoping you say yes and you’re thinking about how adorable she is, despite how physically terrifying she may appear.

“okay….yeah. i might be into that.”

“yeah?” abby’s voice changes, dropping into a tone you hadn’t heard before. it’s pure velvet and you want to feel it on your skin. you want to feel all of her. she leads the way as you stay under the umbrella, impossibly close to her as she protects you from the rain.

doctor!abby who gets you a change of dry clothes, a crewneck sweater and sweatpants. she can’t help but notice how adorable you look in her clothes. abby tries to do her best not to flirt with you as you’re sitting on her couch, but she fails. she’s asking normal questions, non-sequential small talk, but her hand is on your thigh. though the cotton is thick, her touch lights a fire between your thighs.

doctor!abby who nearly combusts when you start touching her arms, her shoulder, ghosting longer her thigh. but they find home elsewhere. fingers delicately smoothing over the end of her braid. abby can’t stop the way her heart stops, and then continues. the blonde strands wrap around your finger like a vice, clinging onto you as if it’s the sole purpose of existing.

doctor!abby who can see the ember shining in your eyes, the way you’re looking at her, like you might just eat her whole. fuck, she would let you too. she’d let you do whatever you want.

“i bet you look beautiful with your hair down.” you tell abby, inching forward, your thigh touching hers. “but you’re beautiful like this, too.”

“beautiful? me?” abby questioned as if it wasn’t obvious.

“don’t play dumb, dr. anderson.”

“i told you to call me ab—” her words just stop when you sling your left leg over, straddling her, grinding your hips just slightly before you fully press your weight on her. she sighs at the contact. feels s’good, having you this close.

wordlessly, you slowly undo her braid until every blond strand is free, her scalp thankful for it. abby moans as you run your fingers through her hair. your bring it over her shoulders on both sides, cradling her face in the palm of your hands.

“you really think you’re not? you’re going to sit here and pretend like you’re not the most beautiful woman i’ve ever seen?” abby blushes, supple cheeks close to crimson, but she doesn’t look away.

“yeah, baby? you think so?”

“i know you are.”

abby lifts her hips cockily, smirking as the moan leaves your lips. all these layers, but being pressed up against her is doing something to you.

“i guess blonde doctors are your type then, huh?”

“only when they keep checking up on me when they didn’t have to.” your hands rest on her hips, as you lean into her, nose pressed against hers, lips ghosting over her very kissable ones.

“i was just doing my job, you know?”

“sure you were, dr. anderson.” abby grunts, aggravated you won’t just say her name again. she needs to hear it.

she can feel your breath on her lips, if she just moved slightly upwards, she’d be kissing you. she wants to, needs to.

“you want to kiss me.” your pupils dilate and your voice trembles.

“say my name and maybe i will.”

“so it’s that easy?”

“mhmmm, that easy.” abby hums, and her name is about to fall off your lips. tragically, dina walks through abby’s front door before you get the chance to. you’re not embarrassed to be found on abby’s lap, and dina knows it too. she just laughs and asks if you’re ready to go.

you whisper in abby’s ear before biting gently, “until next time, dr. anderson.”

-

an. omfg i actually like something i wrote???? wild.

[nervoushottee]

never like this | eddie munson x fem!reader

Summary: your house never feels like home, but Eddie does.

Note: idk what’s happening but I’m on a roll guys and I’m not going to jinx it. Enjoy some cute fluff domestic bliss and love with Eddie!! MWAH

*listened to Rachel Chinouriri- So My Darling on REPEAT while writing this*

**not edited**

The morning was still early.

The simple sounds of the mourning dove’s call and Eddie’s snoring filled your ears as you slowly woke. As you rub the sleep from your eyes, you feel the gentle grip of Eddie’s hand against your waist from your sudden movements. He’s still asleep, his body just subconsciously making sure you were still there in his bed. Not already putting your clothes back on to go home or head to work.

Your smile softly at the thought. Kissing the closet patch of his skin that you could find. Lips meeting the ink covered skin of his arm.

The sun peeking through the tapestry covered window. Slowly but surely starting to warm the trailer from the cool night air. It never felt like this. You could see small specks of dust dancing around in the rays of sun. You hands itching to stretch out and touch as if it was something physical. Your heart felt warm and you felt safe.

You feel Eddie move from behind you. You know this isn’t a small little shift in his body from sleeping. He was awake.

“You snore in your sleep.” you whisper.

“Shut up.” he grumbles against the back of your shoulder.

You snort, turning around to fully face him. His hair was all over the place and messy. His eyes squinty from just waking up and the yellow sunlight peeking into his room. Despite the sleepiness in his eyes and the annoyance in his voice from your words. He smiled at you.

A soft sleepy smile that made his eyes nearly close from how low they were in the first place.

You feel his hand that was on your waist glide up beneath his shirt you wore to sleep the night before and against your back. His hand bigger and warmer than yours as he affectionately rubs your back up and down. Melting your heart even more than it already was this morning.

“It’s never like this.” you mutter out

“Hm?”

“Back home. It never feels like this.” You tell him quietly almost as if you spoke any louder Wayne would hear you all the way at his work desk.

And of the things you liked the most about Eddie; Is how attentive he is. It doesn’t matter what it was, but Eddie never not paid attention to something (unless he was doing it on purpose). He read people very easily. Picked up on nonverbal cues and even when you said things that had a bigger meaning. This was one of those times.

Eddie knew what you were talking about. He didn’t have to ask you to elaborate or confused on what you even meant.

Your family was well off. Like, really well off. Your parents were friends with Steve's parents. Your house being three doors down from his, he’s practically like a brother to you. Living in a three story house that came with a basement bar and an outdoor pool. A chef that would come once every two weeks to cook you food if your parents were out of town for too long. Enough money that you could probably buy out Family Video if you wanted. You would think that it would feel perfect. That there's was nothing else you could want or ever need. And it was true, you had enough. That house had everything you would need to last a year without your parents if need be. But it wasn’t a home.

This was home.

Waking up in Eddie’s bed in the morning. Or getting up in the middle of the night to go use the restroom and seeing Wayne in the dimly lit kitchen when you were out. Quietly sipping on cups of hot coffee and whispering stories about the shaggy haired boy down the hall. (Wayne could only sneak and drink coffee. Ever since Eddie found out that the doctor suggested Wayne cut out caffeine for his heart. Eddie has been very strict about it.)

Home was walking over to Max’s trailer for her to help you teach her how to skateboard as Eddie work on his van. It was sitting on the trailer steps side by side, Leaning into Eddie’s shirt stained with car grease as you share an icecream from the icecream truck. Home was crying in the shower as Eddie held you whenever you thought about nights you wished you would forget.

This was home.

Despite not elaborating on your words. You could feel the understanding in Eddie’s eyes. You could see the warm hints of pink grow on his cheeks and just a bit down his neck. His smile turns more soft and serene as he continues to watch you fidget with the bedsheet.

He knows you feel nervous, to say this out loud and in front of him. He knew you didn’t want to put anything on this yet, and he would never push you. But to hear those words come out of your mouth made him feel like he would never need the formalities. To never have the “What are we?” talk. As long as it felt like this. As long as you kept looking at him with such adoration in your eyes. He would honestly die happy.

“So. Is it me or is it just my bitchin’ trailer?” he mumbles. His voice is low and groggy, filled with sleep as his smile grows into a smirk.

You scoff out at laugh and roll your eyes. Turning away so your back is against his chest. The original position you were in before you woke up. You grab his hand, place it beneath your shirt and against your chest. Eddie can feel your heart beating slow and steady. A calm pace that makes his own heart flutter at the peace you feel within his presence.

What makes him nearly say the three words that would probably ruin it all is when he feels you place your hand on top of his. His heart melts as he hears you let out a deep sigh. A known indication to him that you are relaxed and more than likely will go back to sleep if you're comfortable enough.

Instead, he simply kisses your clothed shoulder. Once, twice, three times. Before letting his head fall back into the pillow and closing his eyes.

Yeah, his life didn’t feel like this either.

Not without you here with him.

[stairain]

Masterlist

Bolded is NSFW.

✪ = Reader Favorite ✫ = Author Favorite

Bad idea. - You see your Professor talking to one of his co-workers, prompting insecurities about him belonging with someone his age.

Yes, Professor. - What follows after a jealous argument between Professor Spencer and his student.

Only you, darling. - You tell your professor you want a “real relationship”, it doesn’t bode well at all.

Beatdown. - Your professor can’t seem to get enough of your punishments. He was pushing your limits, and you intend to break him.

✫ I know your wife and she wouldn’t mind. - Even though he's married to someone else, Spencer can't resist taking care of you every time you show up on his doorstep.

✫ Swing and a Miss. - You meet a nerd at a bar, and you’re determined to claim him as yours.

✪ In the Pouring Rain. - You're driving home and there’s a storm incoming, but pulling over and never pulling out seems more than satisfactory. 

✪✫ Vegas Redemption.- You spot Spencer at a hotel lounge alone, you see has a ring on his finger, but that doesn't stop you.

Headlights Flashing - Spencer and you are rivaling street racers, and despite your deep rooted hatred for each other, with enough adrenaline, arousal, and pure aggression shooting through your veins, you find yourself at the mercy of your contender.

Come and Save me now. - Spencer is supposed to be your doctor, but making you feel better surely wasn’t out of the job description. 

✪✫ Daddy's Little Helper. - Spencer wants nothing more than to show his appreciation for you babysitting his daughter, but by giving you a baby of your own was not what you expected.

✪ Truth of a Lifetime. - After a long day at work, you want nothing more than to unwind with your best friend, but playing a game of drunk Truth or Dare was definitely not what you had in mind. 

✪✫ Captive to Crosswords. - Spencer’s got you tied to a chair, but he’s more interested in finishing his crossword puzzle than finishing you.

✪ Down by the Dock. - After telling Spencer how distant he's been, he's determined to prove just how close he can get with you.

Dare of a Lifetime. - Part 2 to “Truth of a Lifetime” where you show Spencer the kinds of things you’re into, and he is quite the hands-on learner.

✫ Make Hate to You. - Spencer’s convinced you like him a little more than you’re letting on, but you’re set on showing him just how wrong he is.

✪ Mommy's Boyfriend. - While dropping off your son at school, the last thing you expect is your ex-boyfriend Mr.Reid to be his teacher.

✪ Gun that doesn't shoot. - You've grown tired of the princess treatment from Spencer, just wishing he'd slap you around for once, so you don't stop until he does.

✪ Old Fashioned. - After a long night of waiting tables, a quiet man who can’t help but blush every time you speak to him is just what you need.

✪ Staying Up. - You're peacefully sleeping when Spencer comes home needy for you, but you're more than happy to let him use you.

✪✫ The Art of Film - Spencer's wears his FBI vest and bodycam while he fucks you. 

BBM Baby - Spencer wants nothing more than to leave work to be with you, so you sext him to torture him even further. 

The Chase. - Getting pulled over wasn't exactly your plan for a Friday night, but getting pulled over by a hot officer just might be.  

Wrong Move You're Dead - Spencer was never shy about his obsession for you, but you don't know just how far he'd go to prove you belong to him.

✪✫Jealous Girl. - Catching Spencer talking to another woman wasn’t exactly ideal, but thankfully you know just how to handle him. 

Impatience.- Your patience was hardly that of a saint, so it’s no surprise when Spencer’s forced to leave work to fuck you. 

✫ All Aboard. - When you meet a handsome stranger on the train home, he's adamant from the moment your gazes lock that he’ll get a taste of you.

Desk Pet. - Despite knowing the importance of work, Spencer still can't help but distract you in the worst way possible.

Begging for a Breaking. - You've never been that of a beggar for Spencer, but you’re not about to back down now.

✪ Friendly Competition. - Spencer gets a little too cocky and thinks he can please you better than a toy, so you take it upon yourself to crush his ego. 

✫ Brushstrokes - You weren’t entirely sure what being Spencer’s muse meant, but it certainly wasn’t what he had in mind.

Loosen Up - Parties have never been much of Spencer's scene, luckily you've got no problem helping him calm down.

Conditioned Response - You knew training someone like a dog wasn't the most ethical, but Spencer just makes it too easy to pass up.

Good Decoration - After misplacing a folder full of explicit images, the last thing you’d expect was Spencer to take it. 

Double-Edged Sword - The only way Spencer is allowed to fuck you is to wear a strap-on.

[sushis-wild-imagination]

Seventeen as dads part 2

Seventeen as Dads Part 1 Seventeen Masterlist

→Choi SeungCheol

“Appa, are you hurt?” Siah gets on Seungcheols back as your husband laid on the couch. He just groans in response.

He had gotten drunk the night before and had a horrible hangover happening.

“Don’t worry, I’ll treat you” Siah, the older child says and rushed to her room to bring out her doctors kit.

Cheol manages to open his eyes, but his head still throbbing.

Siah walks into the living room with a toy stethoscope around her little neck and a toy injection in the other hand.

Cheol sees his baby bringing all her doctor toys to him and chuckles. “Are you here to take care of me doctor?”

“I will fix you” she says. “Where does it hurt?”

A smiling cheol points to his forehead. “Here doctor”

She takes the toy injection in the other hand and directly puts it on his forehead. This makes seungcheol laugh. “Thank you doctor, you’re so nice”

→Yoon Jeonghan

“Catch it, catch it” Jeonghan pulls at the rod, with the fish flapping as soon as its out of water.

The fish accidentally slap your 4 year old son in the face. “It's slippery” he says trying his best to catch the fish. Everytime the fish is in his hands, the next second it slips out. You watch on the whole spectacle laughing.

After the boys are done catching 2 fish, your boys rushed to show you.

“Now we eat them” jeonghan says

Horror spread across the 4 year old boys face. He immediately starts whining as jeonghan laughs.

“We can’t eat them, theyre our friends!” The little one yells at his dad.

“Tell him!” He also yells at you to defend him as he cries.

“What do we eat then now? Aren’t you hungry?” Jeonghan asks him touching his sons belly.

“No!” The baby says with every conviction in him.

“What do we do with these fish?”

“Take them back home and raise them”

“They’re already dead”

This earns your husband a playful smack to his arm. “Don’t say that” as both of you try to stifle giggles.

→Hong Joshua

“Happy Birthday Dojoonie” your husband, Joshua, wishes his elder son who turned 6 today.

Little did he know, he had a Surprise waiting for him outside in the yard.

"We have a surprise waiting for you outside" you tell him and his little legs rush to take him to the front yard.

"No way" He screams in excitement.

It was a toy car that he could drive.

"Hey, Hey, mister, safe driving only" you say as he gets on the car.

He drives exactly like Joshua. You giggle at that. "He has the same driving face as you" you say to Joshua looking at your son driving away.

"I don't have a driving face" he defends.

"You do!" and you mimic the face he makes while he concentrates on driving.

"He's learning everything from me" Joshua exclaims.

"Im glad, you're a wonderful man Joshua"

"Thank you for saying that, darling" he says wrapping his hand around your torso while you look at your son not braking in time and crashing.

"And thats a crash" you say and both of you rush to him to do damage control.

→Wen JunHui

"It won't hurt, I promise"

Your son is wailing and hiccuping through his sobs, he is terrified of his tooth falling. It's his first milk tooth and that tooth has been dangling for 2 weeks now.

He has a birthday party to attend and he wants to eat everything and anything but the tooth won't let him. So Jun came up with a solid idea of pulling it out himself. As much as I am against it, you kid really wants it taken out but is also scared of it.

"See, we're going to tie this tooth to this floss and the other end to the door handle okay? then you can push the door shut when you're ready, the tooth will fall out" your husband calmly explains.

The boy looks terrified.

"It won't hurt, promise" he says.

Your son holds your hand tight as Jun ties the floss to the door.

"3" his grip on your hand tightens.

"2" his jaw clenches.

"1"

your son kicks the door and the tooth comes out in one swift motion. Your son is ecstatic as he rushed to your side to hug you.

"I did it mama"

"You did, my sweet boy, now you can eat all the hard candies you want at Dojoon's birthday!" you say and he smiles at you front tooth missing, You giggle at his missing tooth.

"What about daddy, I did all the heavy lifting" Jun sulks.

→Kwon Hoshi

Your son jiho has been climbing everything he can reach, he's at that age where his feet are faster than his body. This time he was climbing the kitchen counter making steps out of the drawers. Its dangerous.

"soonyoung, he's been climbing everything, we need to change in child safety on the drawers, it's all broken now"

"I'll get them on the way back from work tomorrow"

Soonyoung sits in front of Jiho with a tiger soft toy, Jiho's favourite.

Soonyoung pretends to voice the tiger and starts talking to jiho.

"Jiho, its me, your favourite tiger, your dad can't hear us"

This snaps Jiho's attention to the tiger. He smiles at the tiger and says the cutest hi.

"Your dad told me you've been climbing chairs and drawers, you shouldn't do that, it is dangerous"

"dangers?"

"yes, dangerous, you could fall and give yourself a ouchie then the doctor will give you an injection"

"no injection"

"You shouldn't climb"

"I'll go now" soonyoung says to jiho in the tiger voice.

"Tiger told me not to climb" he tells his dad immediately.

"It speaks?"

"Only I can hear him, he's my best friend that's why"

"Is that so?"

"Yes"

→Jeon Wonwoo

"Daddy its torn, its torn" your 4 year old comes to you and your husband in the living room talking about his day.

"What's torn honey?" you ask looking down at her. Your daughter holds up Ms. Kiki.

Your sweet sweet baby girl, Min ju, had this one teddy bear she carried around everywhere. Ms. Kiki. It was her emotional support soft toy. She'd bring it to trips, to restaurants and even to the doctors, where she needed it the most.

"Ms. Kiki" she was bawling her eyes out. Wonwoo takes her in his lap. You inspect the tear, it was just a tear on the stitch, a few hand stitches should do the trick.

"Can I do it after I come back?" you had to head out to a meeting in some time.

she starts to whine a little again.

"Daddy will do it" wonwoo chimes and she becomes happy again.

"Ill fetch you the sewing kit, just stitch it here," you tell him showing him where.

The father daughter duo sit side by side, as Minju waits for her dad to sew it slowly.

he pricks himself with the needle the first try and hisses.

"Does it hurt daddy?" Min ju asks.

"Not it doesn't its a pinch" he says and continues sewing while you change into your work clothes.

"After 5 minutes he was done. "Tada!" wonwoo holds up the bear to minju, she was ecstatic.

You were ready to go and stopped by wonwoo to see what he did, and he did a pretty good job.

"Good job!" you praise him.

"Daddy is the bear doctor"

"Bear doctor sounds like a great title"

→Lee Jihoon

You had come to visit Woozi's studio with your 3 year old Daughter Jia, Jihoon wanted to show her his new studio with a lot of lights, he thought the baby would enjoy it.

The light projecting stars and colourful galaxies, he called it the universe factory. Quite a cute name. He was the hottest looking man when he was in his studio focusing and working. One of the reasons you fell for him.

"So? How do you like it?" he asks.

"It looks beautiful, it's so pretty" looking up in wonder.

Your baby, Jia also is looking up adoring the roof and pointing to the stars she sees.

"Stars!"

"So pretty" your child mumbles.

Your daughter now was in his lap, pushing all buttons possible and some beats and sound start to come out of the speakers. Almost like she was making music herself.

"She seems like a natural" he says to her and takes her off the keys before she deletes important files.

"A few years, she'll come for your job Mr. producer"

→Lee Dokyeom

"It's mommy birthday so we're going to bake a cake, but you have to promise me princess you're not going to eat the cake before that" Dokyeom sternly but the 2 year old babbling baby only looks up to see her boba eyes staring at him.

"You're too cute to scold" he says and starts making the cake.

Midway through the icing, Dokyeom was too focus on making the icing, he didn't realise the other side of the icing on the cake was getting eaten, little by little.

Your daughter's little fingers had swiped away at the icing one by one making a big icing mine in the cake. The back of the cake was eaten and ruined, but Dokyeom could not get angry at her. She looked too cute with icing all over her face.

"Here's a strawberry" Dokyeom tells her and hands her a strawberry to eat while he tries to save the cake.

"Finally done, you think mom would like it?" Dokyeom holds the cake to his toddler. "mmh" she hums to the strawberry she had in hand.

You had just returned from a long day of work, all you wanted was to cuddle your two main babies and go to sleep.

You come back to a dark living room and a startling noise.

"Surprise! Happy Birthday Baby!" Dokyeom says with your precious daughter in his arms and a strawberry cake.

"What's with the cake?" you ask looking up at him, then realising your little princess probably ate while making it.

Her hands held a half eaten strawberry as you take her from your husband and shower her with kisses.

"What about me!" Dokyeom sulks and you shower him with kisses too.

"Best Birthday ever"

→Kim Mingyu

Bora haas been wanting a make up set like you have for ages. Mingyu promised to get her a kids make up set on the way back from work today, and he did.

Bora was so excited she started to jump around the living room.

It was a cute toy, with a mirror and brushes and everything. You just hoped it's goes okay on her skin and doesn't damage it.

"Thank you! Thank you!" her little frame hugs Mingyu.

She opens the kit and gets everything out.

"Appa, do you want to be the first customer of my salon?" she says.

He pretends to be a customer. "Hello, I would like a make over please" he says in a fake customer voice that makes your daughter giggle.

She happily obliges and puts this towel in his collar for his shirt. Quite thoughtful.

Bora roughly brushes over his face with some powder from the kit, being careful with it ends up going into mingyu's mouth and he blows raspberries to get it out.

"What kind of a salon is this?" he says giggling. Bora only laughs.

She finishes her masterpiece with a lipstick on her dad's face. a little over drawn but cute nevertheless.

"Tada!" she says as she holds up the mirror to his face.

"Do you feel beautiful daddy?"

"I feel so beautiful baby" he says and Bora runs to her room to bring one of her play wigs to put on her dad's head.

It was a golden bright wig with pigtails to complete the look.

You sneakily take a picture on your phone as you laugh.

Bora laughs too. "Daddy you look like a clown"

This comment makes you laugh even more coming from your daughter.

"Let's go mommy next!" Mingyu suggests with playful evil eyes and you almost run away before mingyu could catch you.

→Xu Minghao

"Daddy, it's tea time, cmon! cmon!" your younger daughter grabs your husbands hand and drags him to her room.

"Why am I not invited?" you pout.

"it's only for daddy"

She's seen Minghao do his tea ceremony often. He stopped a while before, but once your daughter was born, Minghao and your daughter started play dates where they would pretend to drink tea, you found it cute.

"How is daycare?"

"No one likes to play tea party" she complains as you watch this interaction.

The little girl pours the 'tea' its just water, into the her father's cup and her cup.

"Why?"

"I'm not sure, but I have you to play with me"

"You do, I'll play tea party with you all day" Minghao says picking up the cup and putting it to his lips.

"Appa, stick your little finger out, like this" she says and demonstrates.

"Ah yes, how can I forget" he says and does as told.

Your daughter really had him wrapped around her little finger. It was adorable to watch.

→Boo Seungkwan

"Stand here and shoot" seungkwan tells your 7 yer old son.

You were at the basketball court where seungkwan was teaching your son, Channie.

"Shoot, don't get on your toes" he yells at him from the sideline.

He finally makes a score and you cheer. Seungkwan looks very satisfied with himself.

"Let's do a mother son vs dad" you suggest and run into the court to start a match.

"Oh its on"

You jump on seungkwans back while his guard is down and, it becomes difficult for him to steal the ball from Chan and Chan scores. You put both your hands up in the air in celebration.

"Your dad's not that great at this after all" you say sassily to your husband kissing his cheek from the back.

"we'll see, we'll see, get off me! no cheating this time" he warns with a playful smile.

"We'll try"

This time you decide to take both his hands in yours and literally pull him away from the court while your son attempts to score. He misses twice and Seungkwan pretends to escape to save the ball.

Chan finally scores and seungkwan doesn't let your hand go though.

"We won!" you exclaim in your husbands face.

"Come here sneaky" he says wrapping his hands around your waist, not letting you go.

"You're not going to score this time" he says and throws you over his shoulder and grabs your son by the torso holding him with his arm.

It was all laughs and giggles.

→Choi Vernon

"AAH" you hear a shriek coming from the living room. It was your husband Vernon, running to the bedroom to you.

"There's a bug on the wall, bug on the wall"

You can deal with smaller bugs, so you walk out confidently, assuming it's a smaller bug, but it was indeed a big bug.

Your 4 year old Derek, had come out of his room hearing the shriek.

"It's a bug?" he asks, while you hold a container to catch the bug and Vernon hiding behind you, neither of you taking any action to actually catch the bug.

"Derek will catch it for you" your son says in third person and bravely goes to the bug, climbing the couch to for his little hands to get to it.

"Are you sure he's my son?"

"What do you mean? Of course he's your son!" you exclaim.

You see Derek picking up the bug by its wings and asking you to stretch the container, you outstretch your hand with the container as far as you could. The bug really gave you the ice and made your body shudder.

"Done! Here's your new home bug!" Your 4 year old talks to the bug that's now in the container.

You and Vernon share a look.

"Aw my baby, protects me from bugs" you pat Dereks back.

"That was nothing" he boasts, trying to impress his mom.

Lee Chan

"What do you think?" you husband, Chan, had just shared with you the most evil plan to prank your daughter. He wanted you in on it.

"She's going to cry" you warn him.

"It's a prank, we'll teach her to be a good sport" he justifies.

"You father daughter do what you want" you let it go. You eerily sound like what your mom used to say and that makes you chuckle internally.

"Okay, I'm gonna go hide it all"

The living room was a mess with all of Yu Na toys as she played in the living room.

"Yu Na" her father appears from the bedroom, "I have to tell you something"

Yu Na thinks its batch time and start whining, she hates bath time.

"It's something else" Chan clears and she calms down.

"Appa was hungry, so Appa ate something that was Yu Na's" he starts.

"My chocolate cake?" she asks in her little voice.

"There's chocolate cake in the fridge?" he looks surprised.

"Yeah, Uncle Dokyeom brought it yesterday"

"Ah, did he? I didn't eat that"

"What did you eat?"

"I ate all your halloween candy"

She looked like she was about to cry, her lips even turned downward. but what came out of her mouth was so precious.

"You were hungry?"

"Yes baby, I was"

"It's okay because you were hungry. You are supposed to eat when you're hungry and I love you so it's okay"

Chan and you were stunned to hear that. She hugs Chan and you give him a heartfelt look.

"This prank turned out wholesome" he says to you.

"Daddy didn't eat all your candies, we were just joking" you explain to your child.

"Just joking?"

"Yeah, we can have some after dinner" the little girl leapt in excitement and ran into the kitchen.

"We're raising the sweetest girl"

"All thanks to you, my love" he takes your hand and you smile at him.

____

I've been writing this ALL day, this is like 13 fics, I had so much fun though.

[darkbluekies]

I have a request: insecure s/o is feeling down about their appearance, chubbyness and overthinking too much. Yandere preferable Silas/Dr. Kry is trying their best to comfort them ( 〃▽〃)

Silas & Dr Kry drabbles: darling feeling insecure about their appearance

Yandere!mafia x reader x yandere!doctor

Warnings: talking about weight, insecurity about appearance

A/N: I tried my best to not go into it too much because I know that it can be sensitive. I've tried to focus more on the comfort part<3

Silas

He opens the door too quickly. You flinch and try to hurry to wipe your tears. Wasn't he supposed to be out on a mission?

"I forgot my fucking keys-", he starts, but cuts himself off. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing", you whisper with your head turned away, hoping that he won't see your tear stained cheeks.

"Don't 'nothing' me, sweetheart. I fucking know when something's up."

He walks over to you and crouch down next to you on the floor. You flinch in fear and try to twist your head away, but he grabs it in his rough hand.

"Why are you crying, baby?" he asks , wiping your cheek with his thumb. "Tell me."

"I don't look good", you whisper in shame. You've been drowning yourself in the thoughts for so long that saying them out loud makes you embarrased. Escpecially when Silas looks at you with that look in his eyes — mezmerized by you.

He can't believe what you're saying, has to have a doubletake. "What?"

"... I don't look good."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

He rises to his feet and pulls you up on your feet, forcing you in front of the mirror.

"Do you see this?" he asks, gesturing with his hand towards you. "What about this does not look good?"

"My- ... my ... everything."

His jaw drops. "You've lost it. Little thing, you're absolutely magical? I can't even believe that you are real sometimes, and you dare think like this? I don't ever want to hear you talk shit again, not about my husband/wife, do you hear that?"

New tears blur your vision. You try to hold in the sob, but it aches throughout you. Silas turns you around and hugs you tightly as you cry against his collar bone.

"You're absolutely perfect", he tells you and strokes your back. "I don't want anything else than what I'm holding in my arms right now, do you understand that? I don't ever want you to think these idiotic thoughts again. I love you so much, for fuck sake. Oh, it hurts me to see you so upset. Baby ... you know what, I'll stay home tonight, my second in command will have to take my place. I can't let you be alone when you're mean to yourself. I will make sure that you know about how perfect you are until you believe me ... I don't care if that takes a week straight."

Dr Kry

"Doctor?" you ask quietly.

"Yes?" he asks and looks up from his check up list.

"Can we not ... check the weight today?"

He frowns. "Why?"

You squirm and avoid eye contact. Dr Kry sighs and puts down the paper on his desk.

"Have you been thinking things you shouldn't while I haven't been in your room?" he asks suspiciously. "In that case I want you to tell me now so that I can fix it."

"I don't like myself", you mumble and tug at your hospital gown. "How can I feel good when I look like this?"

"That's what it's about. I see." He takes your hands in his. "Y/N, look at me."

You glance up at his blue eyes through tears.

"Listen to me when i tell you this", he starts and wipes your tears, "you are perfectly good right where you are, okay? If the hospital gown makes you feel worse I will get you some pajamas or sweatset, okay?"

"It's not just that. My body ..."

"Oh, stop it. There's nothing wrong about your weight, Y/N. Nothing at all. Nothing wrong about you at all ... well, besides the reason why you are in the hospital. But nothing wrong about you aestethically. Personally, I think you are very attractive."

You blink in disbelief. "What? No."

Dr Kry smiles halfly. "Yes, I do. Listen, I don't want you thinking such nonsense about yourself, okay? And if you ever do, I want you to tell me so that I can reassure you of how good you are. You have nothing to worry about, this is all in your head, okay? Say it with me. 'It's all in my head'."

"It's all in my head ..."

"Good job."

To your surprise, he hugs you. The doctor who hates physical contact, actually hugs you.

"I know that the hours in here can become long and repetitive, but you mustn't let it affect how you think about yourself, okay? I think that you are absolutely perfect the way you are. You don't have to change anything."

He squeezes you tighter, persistent that he will make you see yourself the way he sees you — absolutely magnificent.