#dry plate negatives

[onceuponatown]

A very good boy posing with a bunch of humans in uniform. Between 1900 and 1915

[hgfictionwriter]

Self Control: Part Four - Changes

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Changes start to occur, some small, some bigger. Jessie and you navigate the first few weeks of your pregnancy.

Warnings: Vomiting. Some suggestive language.

A/N: Just fluff this time around, folks. Doting Jessie makes her first appearance lol.

Jessie and you were seated at the table eating breakfast together. With a baby on the way and your health more important than ever, Jessie took it upon herself to take over meal planning and prep. With her exposure to nutritionists over the years, her knowledge along with her now extensive research into prenatal diets, she figured this was a role suited to her.

The food you two ate was already pretty healthy - it had to be. But now, she made sure you got extra iron, protein, calcium, etc., along with your prenatal vitamins which she arranged every morning at the edge of your plate. She felt great about it all.

Minus the coffee situation. She had dutifully removed all remnants of coffee from your apartment given even the beans in the pantry made your stomach turn. She nearly gave the bag away to Janine, but quickly thought better of it when she realized the questions it may spur.

The best you and Jessie could figure, you were about six weeks pregnant. You took the test a couple of weeks ago and though small changes had occurred, for the most part things had been smooth.

Until now.

Jessie stopped mid-bite when you lifted your fork halfway, paused, staring vacantly for a few moments before setting it down rather abruptly and placing your hands at the edge of the table.

"Um." Was all you managed to say before you bolted up out of your chair and rushed to the bathroom. Jessie's fork clattered to the table as she shot up out of her seat and followed you.

She was coming around the corner when she heard you retching.

"Oh, baby," she said gently as she came up behind you and pulled your hair back as you coughed out what little you'd eaten. Your shoulders heaved and she knelt down and rubbed your back.

When you finally sat back, you skin was clammy and pale and you were short of breath. Jessie kissed your temple before rising and grabbing you a damp face cloth.

"I knew it was too good to be true," you mumbled as you patted your face. You finally opened your eyes and gave Jessie a weary look.

"Guess it's started, huh?" Jessie asked with a sympathetic expression.

"I'm going to die if I'm one of those girls that has morning sickness all the way through their pregnancy," you lamented, a sad frown forming on your face.

"Well," Jessie started, looking for the right words to say, "let's hope that isn't the case. And worst case scenario, if it is, I promise I'll take care of you all the way through."

"You better. This is your fault after all," you commented with a smirk. "You're going to hear that from here on out."

Jessie might've felt affronted, but instead she mirrored your smirk and felt a blush started to spread across her cheeks. She knew you didn't mean it negatively. It was her baby that was growing inside of you, creating all of these changes. And that concept pleased Jessie in more ways than she cared to admit.

Before her mind could derail and turn to inappropriate things, the sudden shift in your expression caught her attention, refocusing her immediately as you lurched forward and began vomiting into the toilet once more. This time dry heaving and struggling even more.

"Baby, I'm so sorry," Jessie said as she rubbed your back again. When you eventually pulled back, your eyes were watery with tears.

"You better be staying home," Jessie urged. "And I'll skip practice, too."

You groaned as you leaned back against the wall. You gave a feeble shake of your head. "No. I have a stakeholders meeting this afternoon."

"Babe," Jessie scolded. You waved her off.

"I'll take the morning off," you compromised. "It's morning sickness, right?" You laughed emptily, you and Jessie both reading that it could occur any time of day.

"I'll stay home with you," Jessie repeated. You groaned again. She knew you didn't want her to miss practice, but from the expression on your face you were clearly torn. "No room for discussion. I'm staying home with you."

You whined a bit further, but relented. "Fine. But just today. We both have to just cope with this. I can't miss work all the time and neither can you."

"Let's play it by ear," she compromised. You rolled your eyes, but you leaned into her, Jessie wrapping her arms around you right away. You lay heavy against her, still breathing deeply and struggling to remain composed.

It was sometime later before you were finally confident enough to leave the bathroom. Jessie helped you up and walked you towards the bed.

"No, I want to go to the couch," you nearly whined. Jessie swallowed a laugh.

"Okay. Couch it is," she accepted.

She built you a nest of blankets and pillows, carefully arranging you into it and placing a garbage can within your reach. "What do you want to watch?" She asked as she stood poised with the remote. You heaved a sigh.

"I don't know. Anything," you said tiredly.

She put on one of your favourite movies. You'd watched it dozens of times before, but you never seemed to get bored of it. When you looked content and cozy, Jessie gave you a kiss before stepping away.

"You're coming back, right?" You asked. While your tone had been stubborn and defiant a short while ago, now it was sad and almost meek.

"Of course, babe," Jessie replied, not being able to fully hinder her laugh. She turned to you, a wave of affection and love going through her upon seeing your sad eyes peering over at her through the blankets. She spoke patiently. "I'm making you some tea. Then I'll stay with you." She gave you a sad smile when you gave a morose hum and turned your attention back to the TV.

When Jessie returned to the couch, she set down the steaming mug of tea on the table in front you.

"It's really hot. Give it a few minutes. This is peppermint, but I'm going to go out to the store later and get you some ginger tea and crackers. We'll find stuff that settles your stomach."

"Thank you," you said quietly, exhausted and almost half asleep.

Jessie studied you for a few moments, readjusting your blanket a bit before sitting down at the far end right next to your feet. She pulled out the notebook and pen she'd had tucked under her arm.

Since finding out you were expecting, Jessie started tracking all of your symptoms, their timing, severity, frequency, and had a section dedicated to questions to she wanted to ask the obstetrician at appointment in a couple of weeks. She started making notes about today, including which foods you had for breakfast. She'd work on deciphering if there was something specific in it that triggered your nausea.

Her pen stalled against the paper when she felt you nudge her with your foot through the blankets. She looked over at you in question to see your eyes were closed though you weren't asleep.

"What are you doing?" You asked in a small voice, almost pouty. Jessie dug a hand under the blankets to give your calf a light squeeze.

"Making sure I take care of you two the best I can."

------

Another couple of weeks went by and Jessie wished she could say that your morning sickness waned, but it actually worsened. She was concerned for you, of course, but based on everything she read - and a precautionary call to the doctor - it was to be expected.

All she could do was try to help you navigate and mitigate best as possible.

It was especially hard being away from you these past couple of weeks. You'd stayed home a couple of times, feigning food poisoning and a flu, but you'd insisted that Jessie go to practice and to games.

You flip flopped between pouty and needy to stubbornly independent and it was hard for her to determine which you really needed and wanted. You tended to fall more on the side of the latter, so Jessie ultimately went to Kansas for her game, but it was torture leaving you in your condition.

While away, she texted and called as often as she could, though even that proved to be a greater challenge than expected since she couldn't risk anyone overhearing her conversation. You hadn't even told your families yet. Though you were both excited to share the news, you agreed you'd wait until the first ultrasound to tell your families, then a while longer for others.

When she was home though, she was all yours.

Though things were far from pleasant for you, it seemed like you'd collectively found some coping mechanisms or small wins.

Through Jessie's keen note taking, you'd refined some strategies involving smaller meals, sometimes broken out into just snacks throughout the day. At this point, you were on a diet that was rather tailored and limited to stay inoffensive to your sensitive system. Concurrently, your cravings were reaching a peak of their own.

When you weren't sick to your stomach, you'd developed an affinity for grapes, the texture and sweetness satisfying some kind of itch for you. "The firm ones, not the gross mushy ones," you'd specifically instructed. By now, you'd even developed very particular timing around partially freezing them before eating.

Pickles weren't a thing for you - at least not yet. However, dill pickle chips were. Very much so. Jessie went on one late night adventure to the convenience store for you to get them before caving and stocking up despite the fact that she wished you'd eat something a bit healthier.

She'd made the mistake of trying to limit you and nearly had her head bit off. She kept her opinions on the chips to herself after that.

One evening you were napping, simply exhausted from being sick, balancing work, and still trying to contribute at home. Jessie finished up a few chores she'd convinced you in relinquishing to her - at least temporarily - before heading into the bedroom to check on you.

You must've been warm because you'd kicked off all the blankets and your shirt was hiked up. Jessie wordlessly approached and gingerly climbed onto the bed, laying flat on her tummy, perpendicular to you and stared at your exposed stomach. Eventually, you woke and peeked an eye open. As you registered her position, you gave her a curious look as she still silently surveyed your stomach.

"I think I can see the slightest curve here," Jessie said, eyes still trained on your stomach as she lifted a finger to point at your abdomen.

"Hey," you said mildly as you swatted her hand away. The action surprised her and she pulled back giving you a sullen expression.

"Sorry," you chuckled softly, before grabbing her hand back and laying it on your stomach where she pointed. "My mind defaulted to just regular weight gain and being offended, but then I remembered, "Oh wait, I'm growing your baby" so I should show sometime soon."

Jessie hummed quietly, her sullenness forgotten as she gently stroked your stomach, studying it further as though she might discover something new. Honestly, it was a bit early to show, she was probably imagining things, but she willed it anyway.

Without realizing it, she began to speak.

"Hi little one." She felt your eyes on her and could feel her cheeks warm. She'd talked about the baby plenty, but she'd never talked directly to them before. "How are you? I know you're going through so much and just trying to find your way, but it would be really nice if you stop making poor Momma so sick."

She stole a glance at you, her cheeks growing hotter at the way you watched her in adoration. She gave you a faint smirk.

"It's not that I don't love taking care of Momma, but, I know she'd like to have a regular meal again. And not be so tired." She grinned when she heard you snicker. She continued to caress your stomach. "She's working really hard to make sure you grow nice and strong and healthy. Please try to be nice to her - she's our favourite person, you know." She cocked her head. "You can give her all sorts of trouble when you're a teenager instead."

You laughed. "I think you're going to be way more uptight than me when it comes to stuff like that, so I think you're just jinxing yourself, babe."

"Maybe," Jessie offered noncommittally as she smiled softly, still enamored at the mere thought of the life that rest below her hand and inside of you. "I can't believe that we're making a little human being," Jessie said in quiet awe.

Your hand came to rest on her forearm, your thumb slowly stroking her. "I know. It's incredible to think about."

"I love you," Jessie told you. "And I love you, too," she directed to where your baby was forming. Unexpectedly, her throat tightened with emotion. "I can't wait to meet you."

"Jess," you said gently as you began to brush her hair back. "You're going to make me cry."

"I can't help it," she said, her voice still taut as she leaned up onto her forearms to lay a soft kiss at the center of your stomach.

You continued to stroke her hair, but grew silent as you now stared absently at the ceiling. Eventually you gripped Jessie's hand and squeezed it tightly.

"I love our family so much already." You took a steadying breath. "I really hope everything goes well at the appointment tomorrow. I don't know what I'll do if something's wrong."

Jessie shushed you gently as she shifted to lay next to you.

"There's no reason anything should be wrong. We've been doing everything we should." She kissed your cheek. "Just one more sleep and we'll know for sure. And whether everything's perfect or if there is something we need to address, we'll do it together."

You exhaled heavily through your nose before you turned your head to meet Jessie's gaze. Your eyes were watery, but you smiled at her.

"I love you so much."

A few minutes passed, Jessie's own eyes falling shut as she lay peacefully with you. She opened them upon hearing you give a small huff of a laugh and seeing you wear a faint smirk.

"And I'm sorry I haven't been in the mood lately," you said. Jessie frowned deeply.

"Do not apologize. Like I said, you literally have a tiny human growing inside of you and you've been so exhausted and sick lately. I just want you to feel better. I'm not thinking about anything else," Jessie told you adamantly.

Your smirk grew. "Yeah? What I saw of your shower this morning tells me otherwise."

Jessie's face immediately began to burn hot as the memory of her activities this morning played vividly in her mind. You snuck a quick kiss, somewhere between teasing and placating.

"I can't wait until I feel better so I can take care of you again," you said. Jessie began to stammer a rebuttal when you interjected. "In the meantime, you really don't have to hide it. I may be puking my guts out, but I still think you're gorgeous." You shrugged lightly. "I'll just have to imagine it's my hand around you. Or you know, another part of me."

Jessie's eyes rolled into the back of her head and she shifted onto her back releasing a groan of both exasperation and appreciation. She covered her eyes with a hand, feeling the heat radiating off of her face. She shook her head with a laugh.

"Jesus Christ."

[darlingmbappe]

When We’re Ready [2] | Kylian Mbappé x Fem Reader

[Part One] [Part Two]

Summary: After months of not getting pregnant, your mental health takes a big hit.

Warnings: SMUT! Minors, leave. Mentions of depression, slight angst, penetrative sex, oral (male receiving), brief self pleasure, cussing, google translated French, badly spell checked. Let me know if I missed anything! — English is not my first language —

Masterlist

The days were colder and the last snow of winter was sure to come any day now. Every morning, Kylian would leave bundled up and ready to train, and you’d stay home – left to your own devices with the same bitter thoughts you've collected over the past seven months. 

Getting laid off in early November seemed like a blessing in disguise, but sitting here in the chill of late February with nothing to do but wonder what the hell was wrong with your body made you realize it was more of a curse than a godsend. Maybe the universe was preparing your schedule for motherhood, you thought – needing time to ready the home for a newborn – time that you couldn't find with a job. But, still you remain jobless and without a child. Alone for most of the day, and sometimes days when Kylian went away.

Seven months seems like it’s too soon to feel this type of dreadful disappointment, especially since you’ve read it takes couples upwards of a year to get pregnant… but when you’ve prayed night after night, thoughts consumed with nothing but babies, listened to your husband raving about when the day finally comes, getting your hopes up just be let down once more… for seven months… it takes its toll. 

You were surprised when you heard a key jam into the front door, a mug full of lukewarm tea clung onto your chest as you watched trash TV in the living room, pajamas buried under the comforter you dragged directly from the downstairs guest room. You watched as Ky walked toward you with furrowed brows. 

“Hey.” His voice was gentle.

 “Hi.” You smile forcefully. “You’re home early.”

He hums and sits next to you on the couch. “Not really… It’s past six.”

When he said this to you, even with his tender tone, he hated how your face dropped with confusion, wondering how you spent your day cooped up in here. Of course he’d noticed your deteriorating emotional strength. He wasn’t so sure how to deal with all of this, also strained from having to pretend to be strong for the both of you. 

He kissed your cheek upon seeing your tears well up, pulling you into his body while you tried to hide your emotion. You laughed a little. “I’m sorry. I don’t know where that came from.”

He rubbed your back in an attempt to sooth you. “Don’t be sorry. It’s okay, mon coeur.”

You pulled yourself together surprisingly quickly, the veil of embarrassment not unnoticed by your perceptive husband, but doing his best to not bring it up and make you more aware of his knowledge. 

He ordered take out while you took a steaming shower, satisfied at the dinner table with a mouth full of chicken fried rice. Conversations flowed innocently, but your heart faltered a bit when you got that notification on your phone from your period tracking app – you were ovulating!

Great.

The distinct chime made your food so dry in your mouth, having difficulty swallowing it. You put your phone face down on the table, pretending you didn't both see and hear it. 

He stares at you for a bit. You’re looking down at your plate, saying nothing, not meeting his gaze – though you felt it. He puts his hand on yours. “Bebe…”

“Stop.” You grumble, avoiding his eye contact. “I’m not in the mood.”

He sighs, clanging his fork a little louder than he intended to in the twinge of frustration. He understood, but he just wished you wouldn’t be so hard on yourself. 

In December, you both had visited a fertility clinic to make sure all the gears were working correctly – and they were. It was amazing news that gave you both a fresh drive after months of let downs, but two months and four negative tests harshly dampened that high. You had been pretty hard on yourself, even if Doctor Laclairc said you had a pristine uterus and it just takes longer for some people. 

The noise clattering on his plate caused you to look up, annoyed. Kylian rubbed his temples with his head in his hands, biting the inside of his cheek. 

“What?” You barked. He pursed his lips and shook his head. He was holding back, you could tell. “Just say it, Kylian.”

“What do you want me to say?” He hissed from across that table.

“Whatever you’re not saying right now!”

He takes in a deep breath of air, trying his best to keep his head level. You pointedly stare at him, waiting for something to leave his mouth. He wiped his face with a napkin, tossing it back on the table. “You’re not the only one hurting.” He placed it softly, but you can hear the deep exasperation, emotionally exhausted. It shook you a little, having seen Kylian as a steady rock through all of this. His optimism had carried you through, letting yourself cry in his arms to find comfort. Sure, you knew he felt sad, but he hasn't let you see his devastation in full swing. “Do you think I’m in the mood? I’m not. It’s exhausting.” His eyes were slightly glossy as he expressed himself, voice loud but so unsure. You stare at him, silent. “But, we have to keep trying. I want this. You want this – I know how bad you want this. So, please. Give us a chance.”

His voice was so gentle at the end, emotions soaking every word that left his chest. You dipped your head down, knowing how you'd let your thinned patience steer your words and actions. Kylian never deserved the misguided anger that you let seep through. He’d been nothing but an anchor through these tolling seasons, putting your stability in front of his own.

He gets up out of his chair and slowly walks to yours, kneeling at your side where you sat and stared up at your teary eyes. 

With your hand now taken in his, he places a gentle thumb on your cheek, guiding you to look at him. “It’ll all be worth it.” He confirms, kissing the back of your hand. 

You sniffled, nodding as you turned your body toward him. Your arms wrapped so tightly around his neck and his around your middle. You both breathed in at first contact, some tears falling into the fabric of each other's shirts. The way he grasped you was allconsuming. It was a true embrace that you returned. He just felt like home.

You kiss his cheek, smooching the area until you place one on his lips. Now, holding his face and gazing into him, the strong wall he had built was knocked down. You saw the pain and urgency swirl in his irises. He pecks your lips, letting his hands roam slowly on your back.

You sigh as your lips quivered. All he did was run a thumb over your bottom lip, holding back his own exploding emotions. 

He stood and your eyes followed him now hovering over you, both his hands cradling your face – then the pair of you found yourselves under the covers in your shared bed once more. 

It’s funny. When you first started dating, the infatuation was supernatural. You wondered at the time how you could possibly ever be upset while he had his cock buried inside of you, stare bearing down into your soul with eyes that were made of magma, fingers so curious and ready to please as they got to know the terrain of your body. 

You hadn’t felt the same way about sex in months. It felt like a chore. An obligation demanded by a stupid, inconsequential chime from the app that cost you €2.99 a month. Kylian would have to work himself up half the time and you were just a hole until he filled you up. Aftercare rituals now only consisted of laying still on your back with your feet in the air. An orgasm felt selfish for reasons you couldn’t explain. It’s like you didn’t dare give yourself that primal pleasure because you had convinced your body didn’t deserve it, having failed you over and over again. 

This time, Kylian wanted to wash away the notion that your recent string of bad luck wasn’t caused by one individual or the other. Through his achingly slow actions, he showed you that you weren't just two separate people trying to accomplish a goal; not like when he jerks himself in the bathroom and puts his dick inside of you right before he came. You were together on this. A unified front. Bound to each other for life. 

He praised your weary body, working you up like he used to. Moving at a snail pace, taking his time, dragging his fingers everywhere on your skin. The ‘I love you’’s and the expressions of devotion he mumbled against you flooded your senses. The drag of his member that squeezed against your walls, the inexpressible and constant eye contact, the lost kisses and marks left behind… It was purely and literally making love. He made love to you. You made love to him.

A fortnight passed once more and it was time for your bi-weekly personal hell. Kylian grabbed one of the many pregnancy test boxes from the cabinet in your shared bathroom, opening it for you and setting it next to the toilet – the usual routine. 

He kissed your forehead. “I have a good feeling about this one.” Kylian mentioned with a grin on his face.

“I hate when you say stuff like that.” You mumble walking toward the small toilet room to leave Kylian alone by the his-and-hers sinks. 

He stops you with a hand on your arm. The look on his face was exasperated. “Come on.” He pleads. “Amour, you have to have a little bit of hope. This isn’t how we thought it was going to be like, and I know that. I feel that. But, can you please just… fake it? For me?”

You sigh with a hand on your forehead, then churning out a grin for your husband. “I have a good feeling about this one!” It was a little too enthusiastic. 

He chuckled slightly at how forced your words sounded, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “That was a really good try.” Kiss. “And I appreciate the effort.”

You shake your head with a breathy laugh, but the knot in your stomach stays put, even with the tiny little grin that found its way onto your face without permission.

You’d found the easiest and cleanest way to pee on that stick after doing it so many times. It was generally quick and you didn’t find it gross at all anymore. You set the capped test on the back of the toilet seat and grab some toilet paper. When you stood up, you looked into the bowl before flushing, and the knot in your stomach intensified. 

Kylian leaned against the marble with his arms crossed, looking up at you when you opened the door. “I’ll set the timer.”

You pressed your foot on the trash can pedal and threw the plastic stick inside. “Don’t bother.” You mutter, walking back into the bedroom and throwing yourself on the mattress, body turned opposite of Kylian.

He runs a hand over his scalp, feeling the anger simmering at the surface, letting his feet guide him out of the tiled room. He sees you laying on your side, staring at the wall.

“I don’t know what else to say to you!” He cries out, staring at your back as you curl further into the pillow. “We’re both doing our part. Everyone said it would take time. We knew this would take time! Not everything is going to go our way, but we cannot stop trying. I really need you to start believing we can do this. We can!”

“I can’t, Kylian!” You sob, letting yourself breakdown. This anguish was brutal and completely unforgiving. “I can’t do it.” Your words barely make a sound; calling it a squeak would even be generous. 

His heart breaks and it softens him up a little. He didn’t mean to shout, but everything has just been building and building up inside of him. “Hey…” He coos, crawling on the bed over to your side, holding you apprehensively while you cry into your pillow. He pressed you close to his body when he felt the shaking of your weeps, spooning your figure that jolted in tandem with your cries. “Shh, shh… I know it hurts, amour. I know.”

“Something’s wrong with my body, Kylian. I don’t care what Doctor Laclairc said. She got it wrong. I know she did. I’m so sorry.” 

“No, no, bebe. Nothing is wrong with you.” He squeezes you tighter. “Nothing is wrong with your body. Even if we find out that this isn’t part of our journey, I will never stop loving you. Okay?” His assurance only made you turn into him, burying your face in his shirt, leaving a wet stain in your wake. 

You took a couple of deep breaths in an attempt to calm yourself, only succeeding in halting your wails of sadness, but the tears still fell freely. “I just got my period.” You confess, feeling a wave of shame and guilt once more about your failure to conceive. The bloody toilet paper was a haunting image in your mind. Kylian shuts his eyes and just squeezes you, trying his hardest to make you see that it was okay. “I can’t take this anymore, Kylian, I can’t. I’m so sorry.”

He shakes his head, absolutely wrecked by the sight of your broken down persona. He’d catch you staring off into space, a depressing dullness surrounding what used to be an incredibly compelling aura. You were a shell of yourself for months now; going through the motions of daily life with a dark vail behind your eyes, losing interest in the things that used to make you happy. 

He silently cried, but you felt the drops on top of your head. “It’s okay.” He murmurs in a shaky voice. “We can start trying again in the future. Maybe it wasn’t time for us yet.”

You sob again. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. You’re okay. We’re okay, amour.”

You continue to cry, Kylian finally allowing his tough-guy front drop in this moment of vulnerability. For better, for worse, in sickness, in health, ‘till death parts you from one anothers soothing embrace, you are together through it all.

The months leading up to that next summer were mundane. You’d found another job after coming to the realization that you weren't cut out to be the cute stay-at-home wife, but instead craved some sort of responsibility of your own. Kylian felt like you shouldn’t even have one because he could easily take care of you. Being married, his money was your money, but it was never about the money for you. You needed to dig yourself out of your depression hole sooner rather than later, and a consistent schedule was sure to be a nice addition to the rebuild of your mental health. Thank god for time off, though. Your bosses were huge Mbappé fans (like huge), and you weren’t past milking that for whenever you needed a couple days. You never took advantage of their generosity, but it was nice to know you could. 

Summer in Paris this year had been nice, but Greece had won your heart. Kylian’s cousin’s destination wedding had been planned on a secluded portion of Corfu. The resort was huge and the pair of you were able to sneak away from your usual work duties for two days to attend. The private jet made for an easy travel plan and really any excuse to use it was sufficient enough. 

The last time you’d seen most of Kylian’s family was a year ago – that night you couldn’t keep it in your pants. You had spiraled when you got to thinking about seeing them again a couple weeks ago, pleading with the gods that none of them asked about you and Ky having children. It’s been a little over five months since you decided to put the thought of babies on the back burner. Closing in on half a year and it is still painful. Mentally, you both were prepared to welcome a bundle of joy. The pregnancy books Kylian had picked up were buried deep in drawers you never thought about opening. You’d finally gotten your sex drive back in these months, having to re-learn to separate the pleasurable act with the tedious work of baby making. 

Sometimes you guys used condoms, sometimes you didn’t. Still, your period came and went like clockwork. You still hadn’t erased that little habit of resenting your shedding uterus every month, but you definitely felt like you were making progress. 

“This is nice.” You compliment the outdoor beachfront venue, walking hand in hand with your husband into the reception. 

He looks around. “Yeah, makes me rethink our wedding.”

You scoff. “Shut up! Our wedding was awesome.”

He laughs. “Relax! Jokes, jokes…” He goofily defends, walking you both over to the open bar and ordering you a drink. “Martini?” He double checks. 

“Please.”

He nods, ordering himself a whiskey coke, leaving the young bartender a tip that made his eyes almost pop out of his head.

For most of the night, you had to keep biting your tongue at the waves of people that came up to Kylian and asked for pictures. Sure, they were nice about it, but he was just trying to enjoy himself – and Kylian didn’t like telling people no. Especially not his cousin's friends. Him being whisked away left you clinging onto Ethans side most of the night, finding that Wilfried and Fayza were preoccupied with spending time with the family they didn’t get to see very often.

But, oh, the wandering eyes of a sixteen year old boy threatened to leave you on your own when he spotted a young girl about his age scrolling on her phone with the most bored look on her face. 

“Ethan, no!” You whined as he brushed his suit of any pieces of lint, ready to get up and greet her. “Don’t leave me, please.”

He laughs. “Dude, you can’t keep a lion in its cage.”

You made a stank face at his bad metaphor. “That doesn't even make sense.”

“Ya-huh.” He enunciated back, typical sibling tone. “Me – Ethan – is the lion. Mystery hot girl,” he points, “a gazelle. You – sister in law– cage.”

You roll your eyes, noting to have a conversation with Kylian about his little brother's ego. “This is a family wedding, Ethan.”

“So?”

“So, what if she’s like a distant cousin.”

He makes a grossed out face. “Why would you say that? She is not my cousin.”

“You don’t know that, little man.”

“Don’t call me little man.”

“Aw, is little man embarrassed?” You coo, teasing grin plastered on your face.

“No, shut up!”

“But, you’re an adorable wittle man.” You baby-talk, reaching over and pinching his cheek. He swats your hand away as you laugh at him.

“Stop!” He stands up and smooths out wrinkles. “I’m taller than your husband.” He reminds you. “Little man, my ass.” He scoffs, giving you the middle finger teasingly and secretively in case his family saw the obscene gesture. You discreetly give one back as he walks toward the girl, a flirty pep in his step while approaching her. 

You sigh to yourself, looking around and noticing that you didn’t actually know where Ky was. Last time you checked, the groomsmen had bombarded him with selfies by the DJ booth while he tried to have a conversion with his great auntie. You grab your martini and get up from the fountain ledge you sat on, a little tipsier than you thought you were. You stopped and looked around for him.

“Cute, right?”

You look to your left to wherever that feminine voice came from. A blonde middle aged woman in a red dress stands next to you holding a glass of champagne. 

“Sorry?” You ask, unsure if she was talking to you or not.

The lady points to a table a few yards away – and there he was. Kylian sat talking to some people, a toddler resting on his lap. He had a huge smile on his face, poking at the little girl's cheek to get her to giggle. You grinned at the sight, loving seeing him so happy.

You turn back to the woman to respond when you look down at her dress. She was pregnant. Very pregnant. She tips back her champagne. “Don’t worry. It’s ginger ale.” You nod at her, chuckling a bit. “Kylian’s your boyfriend, isn’t he?”

You turn your attention back to him just as the little girl stuck her whole fist in his whiskey, taking a piece of ice and trying to put it in her mouth. You laugh out loud when he frantically tries to pry her little hand open. Successful, he meets your eye and his smile was radiant and full of life, shaking his head. 

“He’s my husband, actually.”

She looks down at the empty martini glass in your hand. “No kids yet.” Her British accent was thick and assertive. 

You shake your head at the stranger and set the empty glass down on the empty table next to you. You felt a little awkward having this conversation with someone you don’t even know the name of. She must be some extended family or the wife of a distant cousin. She seems kind, but you weren’t big on sharing your personal life with anyone you didn't trust, much less know. Especially since you’ve been with Kylian, what you say affects him. He’s in the under bright spotlight and scrutiny of the public, and if you’ve learned anything while being with a global star, it is that some people will stop at nothing to get a story.

The woman tips back the rest of her ginger ale and sets her glass down next to yours. “Are you guys trying?”

She has an audacious look now that she stands in front of you and it makes you feel unsettled. “I’m sorry?”

The lady laughs a little. “I just wondered if you and Kylian planned on starting a family any time soon.”

You couldn’t stop the bewildered look that now took over your features. “Uh…” was all you could really say. You don’t know this woman, she doesn’t know you. It’s a loaded question and frankly quite bold of her to come up to you and ask. “What?”

“Kids.” She repeated, apparently not caring about the uncomfortable shift in mood. 

You opened your mouth, but had no idea what to say. You stuttered and tried to calm down with a forced chuckle. “What did you say your name was?”

She discreetly huffed.“Scheana Kingsley.” 

Definitely familiar, but you just couldn’t place your finger on it. “Right.” 

She waits. “So… any comment?”

“Hello.” Thank god. Fayza. She put a warm hand on your shoulder, perceptive to how tense you looked with this woman. “Scheana.” Fayza sighed. “Laurence is over by the cheese platters.” You loved how politely she just dismissed her.

The Scheana lady forced a smile at her. “Oh. Thank you.” She waved a hand goodbye with a disappointed breath. “Good talking to you.”

Your mother in law turned to you with a much clearer show of annoyance. You laugh lightly in disbelief. “Scheana Kingsley… should I know her?”

“You probably know about her. She writes for some news-gossip-pop-culture magazine.” She informs you. “Well, calling it news is charitable.”

“Unbelievable.” You scoff, crossing your arms at the revelation. “Who let her in here?”

“She’s married to Laurence over there. We try to keep our distance from them.”

From across the patio, Kylian turns his stare at you and his mother talking. You looked annoyed and frustrated, which made him so nervous. He excused himself from the small talk and speed walked over, thinking he might have to diffuse the situation – or maybe even get a scolding from his mother and his wife. God, he really hopes you two weren’t talking about him.

“My beautiful ladies.” He greets, kissing his mothers cheek then yours. “Everything okay?”

You smile at him. “You been having fun?”

“Yeah. Lot’s of fun.” He looks between the two of you. “You two are good, though?”

“Oh, no, we're fine.” You laugh it off.

“I saved your wife here from a conversation with Scheana Kingsley.” Fayza mentioned.

He shakes his head, scoffing a bit. “That woman… She has ambition, that’s for sure.” Now you remember why she sounded so familiar. Kylian had complained about his thrice removed family member’s new girlfriend a few years back and how she was a pushy reporter for The Paris Culture Magazine. “I’m surprised Laurence has kept her around for this long. What’d she say to you?”

They both turned their attention to you, waiting for you to say something. You shrug, but Kylian noticed the trepidation in your stare. “Nothing, really. Just some weird questions… I don't know.”

Thankfully, Fayza didn’t push it further, but you knew Kylian’s assuring hand on your waist meant that he knew something was up. You hadn’t asked Kylian if he’d shared with his parents that you were trying to get pregnant, but you doubted it. You would have noticed her demeanor change around you, given you saw her quite frequently. Besides, he would have checked with you before sharing that information with anybody.

There seemed to be a pattern occurring with you and Kylian leaving family events early, but the two of you were not only exhausted, but just not having a good time. The drunker the bridal party got, the more confident they felt hounding Kylian for selfies and videos. As for your mood, it was in a steady downward spiral ever since your interaction with Scheana. Just locking eyes, you both understood that it was time to surrender back into your suite. 

He held your hand out of the elevator, swinging your arm back and forth. The pair of you had an overly tipsy pep in your step from the drinks you’d forgotten to count through the night.

“You look gorgeous tonight.” He kissed your cheek, a smirk overtaking his face.

You giggle shyly as he unlocks the door to your room, letting you walk in first. You went directly to the bathroom, your bladder begging for some relief. Kylian wandered in to brush his teeth as you turned the shower on, taking your jewelry off as you let the water warm up. 

Kylian looked at your reflection in the mirror, shirt buttons completely undone. You were dazed. Quiet. He hated that look. He’d seen it take over you for months and finally, you were getting better. 

He spit the toothpaste in the sink. “What’s wrong, bébé?”

“Huh? Oh. Nothing. I’m fine.” You turn your back to him. “Will you unzip me?”

He turns, slowly pulling the tiny zipper all the way down. He kissed the skin where your neck met your shoulder. “Did Scheana say something to make you upset?”

You shrug, taking the dress off and neatly hanging it on the towel rack. “She couldn’t have known. I don’t think she meant any harm.” You hop in the shower, shutting the foggy glass door and let the hot water run over you.

Kylians blurry figure leaned against the other side to continue talking to you. “What’d she say?”

“Just asking questions.”

“About?”

A big sigh leaves you. “Us, I guess.” Kylian listens, knowing you have more to say but are just keeping it bottled up. There was always a clear guide of communication between you two, especially because you were really good at letting things eat you up from the inside. You fiddle with your wet hair and Kylians frame behind the foggy glass stayed put. “She just… It was just weird. She wanted to know if we had plans to have kids anytime soon.” You chuckled, hiding your dejection with the sound. “I didn’t know what to say.”

“That’s not okay.” He indicates. “I’m sorry she badgered you tonight, cherie. She crossed a line.” He sounded a little angry.

“Don’t worry about it, baby. It’s fine.” He opens the shower door, causing you to jolt a little. He steps in, raking his eyes over your naked wet body quickly, and you his. “Yeah, sure, you can join me.” You joke as he reaches for the soap bar.

“It’s not fine.” He discards your dismissiveness, rubbing your shoulders with the foam. “I’m gonna talk to Laurence about that.”

You melt into his touch. “No, really, you don’t have to–”

“I’m going to.” He whispers, kissing your cheek. “No one makes my wife upset and gets away with it.” His hands roamed down your arms. “My hot wife.” His breath tickled your ear. “My sexy wife.” He presses his body to yours, nudging your cheek with his nose until you turn your face, kissing you feverishly. 

You hum involuntarily into his mouth when his tongue decides to poke its way in, hand now feeling you up, tits squished between his fingers.

“Someone’s eager.” You laugh as he forces you to turn around, the hot water beating your back. 

He bites the side of your neck dramatically and you laugh harder, pushing him away playfully – but he pulls you back into his chest, smiling dotingly with you safe between his arms.

“You wanna?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

You made a pensive face, pretending to really think about it. “I could be convinced.”

“Yeah?” 

“Maybe.” You smirk as he bites his grinning lips, hands lowering and squeezing your ass harshly. 

“Do you know how hot you looked in your dress tonight?” He continued feeling you up, dick pressed against your thigh, slowly getting harder by the second. “I swear, I was so close to sneaking off to some empty part of the beach and bending you over. Driving me crazy.”

Your hands ran down the rigid muscles on his chest, feeling electric under his burning stare, hot at the thought of him fucking you out of impulse. “Do I make you feel all hot and bothered?” You ask, his stare is so dark. So needy. You lean in only a little, teasing a kiss on his lips, but never truly meeting their plush touch. “Do you start thinking about what you would do to me? Thinking about touching me? Fucking me?” He growls at your words, tilting his face forward to try and steal a kiss. “Show me.”

He grips the flesh of your ass and pulls you even closer to him, frantically showing you his desire for you with a hungry kiss. Your arms wrap around his neck and he moves his hands upward and begins pawing at your exposed breasts. The steaming water dripping down your entwined bodies made everything slick, slippery, conditions that caused you both to grip to each other's bodies for security.

You reach a hand down and grab his growing cock, pumping it loosely, trying to get him fully erect. A moan vibrates out of his throat as your movements focus on his sensitive tip, thumbing the slit, feeling him grow and stiffen in the palm of your hand.

You kiss down his neck, then move to whisper to him, sultry as ever. “Am I doing something like this when you fantasize?”

He nods under your spell, eyes drooping in pure lust. “Uh-huh. Just like that.”

Gaining control over him, you waddle your bodies back until his back hits the wall. He shivers at the cold tile in the steamy shower, but forgets all memories of the chill when you kiss down his neck, lowering your body on your knees, hands trailing down so slowly, mouth inches from his swinging member. His hips jut forward and it hits your cheek. You follow it with your mouth, letting it graze your lips in passing. The blinking stare and batting lashes almost drew blood on his lower lip from how hard he bit it. 

“Open up, ange.” Angel, he called you, but you were so sinful. On his knees in front of him. Droplets reflecting off your skin from the harsh light. His eyes felt undeserving of seeing you so ready to praise him. It made him feel so mortal, so lucky. He thanked the higher power that brought you to him, feeling an intense desire to take care of you – tend to your every wish.

You took hold of him with a sure fist, darting your tongue out and licking one long strip from his base to his mushroom head, letting your lips wrap around him and sucking to hear his moan. His face scrunched. His skull lulled into the wall.

You took him in your mouth a little over halfway, moving your mouth in tandem with your hand, enjoying the way his cock nudged against the back of your throat continuously to your rhythm.

“Oui, dieu.” God, yes. He fisted the back of your sopping wet hair, pulling you off of him and forcing you to look up at him. “Touch yourself for me, baby.”

You shut your mouth and swallowed harshly. He ran his thumb against your lips, hooking it on your bottom row of teeth, opening you up once more. Your tongue licked the pad of his finger, dipping your hand between your legs and quickly finding your clit. Your brows furrowed and your eyes widened. As the moan slipped from your throat, he placed your face directly back to his throbbing cock. Now, he had control of your movements, using your hair as a handle for his intentions, guiding your mouth up and down his shaft in quick movements. You gagged when he began thrusting concurrently to the tempo he stuffed you into his pelvis, heavy heaves and grunts erupting from his chest.

You gargled and gagged on your own spit and moans of pleasure from your own fingers, tasting the salty precum that dripped from your chin as you harshly sucked off your loving husband. You kept your vision from squinting together as you met his eyes through teary eyelashes. He fucked your face like you hadn’t had sex in years, rough with his actions and getting off on the way you were taking it. 

His dick disappeared inside your mouth swiftly and urgently until he couldn't resist. He stopped thrusting, looking deep into your eyes – mouth still stuffed with him. He pushed his hand, demanding you take every inch of him down your open throat. You choked on him, the muffle of your gagging making him see stars.

You hit his thigh after a few seconds and he pulled his hand away. You gasped for air, noticing for the first time how sore your knees were against the hard tile. He let out a long hiss at the loss of your mouth, watching through heavy blinks as you sat against the opposite wall in the small area – knees red and patterned with the lines from the floor. Your chest moved with your big breaths, smiling and commending yourself for the avidity in Kylian’s eyes. 

With your knees pulled to your chest, you slowly opened your legs, fingers playing with yourself as you made a show of how good you were making yourself feel. His pupils dilated at the way you ran your free hand across your thigh then up your chest, pitching a pulling your nipple with your lip tucked between your teeth. 

He whined – a desperate noise that came up naturally. He reached down to touch himself to the sight of you, pumping a slow fist against himself. His long strokes teased his tip until he shuddered, eye contact non-negotiable. You couldn’t look away if you tried. Your swirling moans echoed in the small chamber – his eyes glued to the way your own fingers stretched and spread your pussy. Your own were attentive to the tug at the nape of his base. Though, you both looked up at the same time, hypnotized by your partners mutual ogling. He steps forward, hand still on himself. You reach for his hand and he helps you up, immediately pulling you by the small of your back into his lips, tongue lapping yours, absolutely famished. 

He had clocked the little ledge in the corner from the second he walked into the intimate shower. He put his hand out behind you so the edge wouldn't hurt you, then used his strength to hoist your slippery skin up onto it. He placed himself between your legs, your back pressed to the wall, the shelf only fitting half of your rear — but it was the perfect height for him to fuck you like he wanted to. 

He lined himself up quickly and desperately spreading your pussy wide open for him, pushing in and dragging out. One long moan came straight from your throat, clinging onto his neck to keep yourself in that same position. 

“Fuck.” He grumbled. “You feel so good.” His pace was deadly, tip poking and poking that spot. It made your eyes cross, resting your damp head on the wall. “Been wanting to do this all night. Merde. Les choses que tu me fais, tu me rends fou.” Shit. The things you do to me. You make me fucking crazy.

You moaned in response, too focused on the way his neatly trimmed pelvis rubbed against your clit every time he pushed inside of you. It felt euphoric. Magical. Goddamn perfect. The only words you could muster out made him giggle through his heaves. “Please don’t slip.”

Your arm knocked over a few shampoo bottles when he buried himself deeply inside of you and stopped – making you borderline scream from how deep he actually was, and this position made everything feel… more.

He groaned so loudly, his mouth in the shape of an ‘O’, and you understood why when you felt him cumming inside of you, hot spurts surely dripping out. You didn't notice him biting your forearm until he let go of it, keeping his mouth against you before turning to look into your eyes. A slightly apologetic look turned cocky when one hand reached for your sensitive nub, rubbing just the way you like it, still inside of you.

“Oh, shit…” You breathed, eyes connected to the way he pleased you. “I’m fucking close.”

“Vulgar tonight, are we?” He teased your language, a tired smirk on his face.

“You just…” you begin, but he shuts you up with a small unprecedented thrust. “Fuck!”

He hisses, not really being able to take the overstimulation, but continuing to push into you sporadically – purly for your pleasure. Thankfully, it didn’t take you long to reach your climax. 

He didn’t need the warning upon feeling your legs give out slightly, pressing against you to keep you on the shelf. They started shaking as your eyes closed, a fierce moan exploding from your wet parted lips. He moved his hips with a contorted face until he felt you calm down, now whining and whispering to the touch of his fingers as they slowed down, pressing down harder on you before disappearing altogether. 

You pat his back lazily and he pulled out of you carefully, setting your wobbly legs on the slippery floor. You’d completely forgotten the shower was on as you watched it drain down. Kylian held your waist steadily, both breathing heavy. He lands two gentle taps on your bum. “Let's not waste anymore water, yeah?” 

The vacation, though brief, was absolutely refreshing. It gave time that you and Kylian needed to feel closer. The offseason couldn’t come soon enough. You didn’t have to revolve around his schedule during those weeks because he was just home already. To you, there was nothing better than coming downstairs at 2pm on a Tuesday and seeing Ky there, drinking orange juice straight from the bottle, or being able to binge a series with him much quicker because he had time for more than just two episodes. By all means, being married to him shouldn’t be easy, and it’s not necessarily that simple… but it should be way harder. Maybe you were just more patient, but you’re almost certain it has everything to do with him. He made time. He made an effort. He tries his damn hardest. How could you possibly hold that against him?

You didn’t notice the way you were staring at him, chin in the palm of your hand, daydreaming about your entire history with Kylian Mbappé – a man with no time to spare, but he damn well made sure you fit in his schedule. 

“Why are you staring at me like that?” He grins, setting down his coffee across the table from you in your shared Parisian home. 

You blink, smiling in embarrassment. “No reason.”

You push some eggs around on your plate. He leans forward. “What were you thinking about?”

You shrug at him, still smiling. “Greece.”

His laugh gave away his fondest memory of that trip. “We gotta do that trip again soon, amour.”

“Yeah, like they’d give you that kind of time off twice within two months.”

His head shakes, snickering at that complete impossibility. “I think they’d send me a fee for even asking.” He looks at the time on his phone. “I should probably get going, though.” He gets up and collects his things.

“Drink lots of water today, okay? It’s supposed to get really hot around noon.”

“Yes, dear.” He drones jokingly, smirking as he makes his way over to you, pecking you quickly. “Love you.”

You squeeze his hand quickly. “Love you, too.”

Now, your separate days begin – his a little earlier than yours, but you still just wanted to envelope yourself back inside the covers. You were thinking about calling out sick, which wouldn't be a complete lie. The scrambled eggs were not sitting right this morning, or maybe it was the Thai restaurant you ate at last night. Either way, you couldn’t remember where you put the Pepto-bismol. The empty space in the medicine cabinet left you wondering if Kylian had drunk up the last bit and hadn’t bought a new one yet.

You maintain your breathing steady to keep yourself from throwing up as you shuffle through the drawers. Praying it was in the last one, you pull it open desperately, but only facing three boxes of pregnancy tests. The rush of everything fell still, the air much quieter as you got flashbacks from last year.

You didn’t let yourself think about it much, but you never really got over not getting pregnant. Mentally and emotionally, you were still there. The pain and devastation got easier to mask, but they stayed with you.

It was time you got over it, or at least lost the fear of not being able to have children... the fear of not being able to provide Kylian with a child. If you kept on being bitter about this whole ordeal, you don't know if you'd ever be in the right headspace to try for a baby ever again.

You stare at the tests and shake your head. “Fuck it.” 

You snatch one from the drawer and beeline to the bathroom, peeing on the stick and thinking about how dumb it was that you had let this trivial little test ruin your for months. This time, you wouldn’t feel the dread collect inside your stomach. It would be okay. It wouldn’t hold power over you anymore.

Immediately walking out, you press down on the pedal of the trashcan and you watch it fall into the bin, feeling proud of yourself for not caring about that little plastic stick or what it had to say about your body. You weren't pregnant right now… and that's okay. 

You sigh, a proud feeling swirling with sadness was still progress. 

“Oh, no.” You mumble, feeling your stomach churn and running back toward the toilet, puking horrifically. It was a bad one. Maybe calling out sick was for the best. Who knows, it could be a stomach bug and contagious… but, unfortunately, you felt a lot better afterwards. 

It was probably best if you went to work. There’s a promotion you’ve been chasing and you had just taken those days off for the wedding last month. Trudingly, you got ready to leave the house, rushing a bit since you hadn't realized how late in the morning it was. 

Thank god you went. It was a hectic day; some project deadline wasn’t met and, for some reason, people turned to you for the solution. You were still relatively new at the company, but today, you really felt like you were doing something right. You left the office with a pat on the back from your big boss. That felt amazing. Kickin’ ass and taking names.

You were late coming home, texting Ky to let him know that you wouldn't be there when he got back. He texted back a simple:

Ky: :(

To which you responded with:

You: Bad day?

Ky: Just miss you. You were on my mind a lot today

You frown while walking to your car, wanting to get home quickly and hug him tightly.

You: Baby :( I’m on my way home now. 

You: I have a big kiss just for you <3

The second you walked through the door about half an hour later, Kylian embraced you tightly, taking you by surprise but you easily fell into his arms. You could feel his stress radiating from his body as he followed at your foot around the house. He was quiet in asking if you wanted to take a shower, but his eyes were loud in telling you he just needed to be close to you tonight. 

It was an innocent shower, his silent begging for a back rub and skin-to-skin contact was obvious as he kept his hand warmly on you at all times.

“You okay, hun?” You ask gently, tracing the frown line between his eyebrows after turning the water off.

He nods, eyes sleepy even though it was only eight o'clock at night. “Have you eaten?” He changes the topic, opening the shower door and wrapping you in a towel.

You shrug. “I haven't really been hungry today.” Ever since you threw up this morning, the thought of eating made you grimace. “Did you feel weird after last night's Thai?”

“I felt fine. Why? Is your stomach bothering you?”

You shake your head no as you shuffle through your drawers. “Just a little queasy this morning.”

You both get dressed quickly and lazily, surprised at how early you were deciding to turn in. Kylian was quite a bit needy tonight, pawing and tugging you close to him while he put on Pretty Little Liars… He would deny it to anyone, but he was obsessed with that show. 

“What the hell is she wearing?” He tusks at the screen, apparently not approving of Spencer's outfit for the Prom. 

You giggle into his chest, shaking your head slightly. “I’m gonna go pee.” You pat his bare chest and leave his side, hopping over to the ensuite. 

You wanted to be quick about it, your feet cold from the chilly tile and lack of socks. Kylian had opened a new toothpaste packet and left the empty box on the counter. You roll your eyes. He’s notorious for leaving things that should be trash anywhere but the trash can – an unfortunate side effect of having someone pick up after you as a professional athlete. You bitterly grab the cardboard box and press your foot down on the petal of the trashcan, but freeze when you spot the pregnancy test you took that morning. You wanted to look at it.

Is it worth looking at it? You hadn't even thought about it all day, which is a huge step for you. Only a few months ago, you would have been debilitated at work – and you sure as hell wouldn't have been able to step up like you did. You would have been crying quietly in your cubicle, taking far too many bathroom breaks. 

But… it was winking at you. Calling your name. Taunting you face down in the plastic liner. 

With a gulp and a deep breath in, you shook your head disapprovingly at yourself. It’s gonna be negative, you think, preparing yourself for disappointment as you fish it out of the bin. You gave a deep sigh before letting your eyes trail down to your hand where the thing burned a hole on your skin. 

The gasp that came from your mouth was severe, loud, alarming. 

Two lines. Pregnant. 

“Oh my god.” You mumble, much too quietly for Kylain to hear you behind the closed door. You begin laughing as it settles in what you’re seeing. “Oh my god! Kylian!” You desperately call. “Kylian!”

“What happened?” Kylian shoots out from under the covers and your current brain functions were a little crossed as you gaped at the test. The positive test. “Babe?” He comes into the bathroom with a furrowed and concerned look. “Are you okay?”

You respond with a look he was unfamiliar with. Immediately noticing the tears that had collected on your lash line, he reached for you. You couldn't tear your eyes away from him, seeing him for the first time as the father of the child inside your stomach. “Kylain.” He had never heard his name come from your lips with as much affection as it did right now.

He gladly took the hug you attacked him with, but the mood inside the bathroom was a little bewildering. 

“What’s going on, amour?” He coos, but you can only sob joyfully into his shoulder, holding the test behind his back as you embrace him – staring at the double lines like it would suddenly turn in one and you'd realize that this was never real. But it was. The results were right there in the palm of your hand. He mistook your cries for sadness, placing an assuring hand on the back of your head. “Tell me what’s wrong.” His voice was so soft.

“I love you so much.” You smile, pulling back and planting a long, wet kiss on his unexpecting lips. 

He’s so confused. “I love you too…” He raises an eyebrow when your hand meets his, an object placed in his palm. “What is this?” He asks before looking at it.

It takes a second for it to process, and you find yourself wishing you had a photographic memory, wanting to see his first face of realization again and again for the rest of your life. His eyes might as well have fallen out of his head with how wide his eyes went. 

“Wha…” He stutters, completely transfixed on the test. “Is this real?!” He finally looks at you, excitement would be the biggest understatement of the century.

“Of course it is.” You squeak, still clinging onto your husband as you both look at the stick. “I’m pregnant.”

“You’re pregnant.”

“I’m pregnant.” You both take a big breath in, crying simultaneously, absolutely elated. 

Kylian stares at the stick with a squinty and wrinkly smile before he looks at you — eyes tender and grateful. He drops the stick in the sink basin, grabbing your face with his two large hands, forehead pressed to yours to let the moment really register. He kisses you as best he could with the smile that engulfed his features, wrapping you up in his arms, truly holding you. 

“I love you.” He whispers from his chest, an earth shattering smile finding a permanent home on his face. “We’re having a baby.”

A/N: Okay, I don't hate it, but it's not my fav. It's finals in uni and I'm a wee bit preoccupied with those responsibilities. Still though, I think I had some good parts in here! It's mostly just the ending that's bugging me. Also, I know nothing about pregnancies and all that jazz so this is pure Google info so I apologize for any inaccuracies!

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[peterman-spideyparker]

Celebrate (Marc Spector x fem!Reader, Steven Grant x fem!Reader, Jake Lockley x fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! So, I have had this done for a while and just never posted, so better late than never, amirite? And besides, we can all always use more Oscar Isaac and the Moon Boys in our lives. Enjoy! :)

Summary: The boys realize that they've never celebrated your birthday with you, despite being with you for well over a year and you celebrating their birthday. When they find out when it is, nothing will stop them from giving you a birthday for the record books.

Warning: Fluff (established couple with all the Moon Boys, super sweet affection, kisses, a very important question), angst (negative emotions about birthdays), implied smut

Other Characters: None

Word Count: 3,348

Steven, Marc, and Jake love you. They loves everything about you, from how you talk, to how you have a ‘lucky’ something for every category of item you own, to how big your heart is. But there is one thing about you that particularly irks them.

In the year and a half that you have been together with them, they has yet to find out when your birthday is. For all they knows, they could have missed it twice! Hell, you’ve remembered theirs twice and have done incredibly loving things for both.

They have tried everything—Steven even tried to sneak a peak at your license once, but turned out to be in a different wallet. Steven only knew his lack of knowledge wasn’t by virtue of him not trying extremely hard, because Marc and Jake couldn’t find out either.

Jake enjoyed playing around with the fantasy that you were a secret spy or assassin who stepped away from the action to lead a normal, quiet life. Steven and Marc were ready to quickly dismiss it when they remembered that they served as an avatar for the Egyptian God of the moon. In all honesty, there was a chance that Jake could be right. 

“Did you know that in Ancient Egypt, Pharaohs didn’t celebrate birthdays on the actual day?” Steven asks as he hands you a dish from the suds. “They celebrated their coronation day since it was when they were born into the role of ruler.”

“Interesting,” you respond as you use the towel to dry the plate.

“It’s a bit sad, though, innit? That other people didn’t celebrate their birthdays. It wasn’t a common thing.”

“Well, I mean, I guess people make a big deal out of birthdays and place a lot of pressure on them. Maybe the Egyptians had it right.”

“But it’s an important day, you know? Someone fantastic was brought to the world, that’s worth celebratin’.”

You have a feeling you know what he’s getting at. You choose to remain quiet.

“You’re worth celebratin’, (Y/N).”

You feel tears sting at your eyes, and you suck in your bottom lip to prevent yourself from crying.

“Why haven’t you told us when your birthday is?” he pleads softly.

You dip your head and shrug. “My birthday . . . I don’t know,” you mutter. “I have a lot of mixed feelings about it, and I don’t know how to say them without sounding whiny.”

Steven tilts your chin up with a sudsy finger so your eyes lock onto his.

“We’re all ears,” he says tenderly.

You let out a sigh, but Steven’s finger refuses to let your gaze leave his.

“No matter how old I got or whatever new friends I made, my friends and colleagues and even my exes always forgot my birthday. I always made it a point to remember theirs, get a gift, a card, whatever, because—it’s the friggin’ day they’re born! And then I always had these small, wistful expectations there’d be something done for me like a surprise, but it was always nothing. Once I got into my college years, I’d have these hopes and expectations of what I’d have done by that birthday, and most of them never came true. My ‘have a first kiss’ goal was deferred for eight years until I was 25.” You close your eyes and give your head a little shake. “I’m just always disappointed by my birthday with other people and myself. Never a real reason to celebrate.”

Steven dries his hands and wipes away yours tears with the pads of his thumb as he pulls you in for a loving hug.

“Will you tell us when your birthday is, love?” Steven whispers into your hair. “Please?”

Unable to resist his tender embrace, you tell him the date, and he pulls back to scan your face. “That’s Thursday,” he states.

“Yeah,” you nod. “It is.”

You don’t expect him to cradle your face in his hands while he kisses you deeply. “Boy, do we have some idea’s stewin’ in our brain,” he beams as he gives you another kiss. “And you know what? Since I missed it last year, you’re gonna have a half-birthday celebration that is gonna knock your knickers right off of you.”

“My knickers?” you laugh, your hurt feelings quickly leaving your body.

Steven whistles and moves his hand like a plane to emphasize the absolute absence of panties you’ll have before he hops up and rubs his hands together in excitement. 

“Oh,” he says as he holds up a finger. “This is why we couldn’t figure out your birthday, right? You’re not secretly a spy or assassin?”

You laugh at the implication, the sadness rolling off of your body. “Jake’s idea?”

Steven nods. 

“Well, I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you, and I’d hate to ruin that pretty face of yours. And then there’s the issue of getting rid of the body, and we’re on the fifth floor—.”

“See, I know you’re jokin’, but part of me is actually a little spooked right now,” Steven says.

“No, hon. I’m not a spy,” you giggle, moving to kiss his cheek and push his curly hair back. “Sorry to disappoint Jake.”

Steven breathes a sigh of relief and dips his head as you hold onto him. "Oh, thank the gods!"

You’re vaguely aware of the shifting on your mattress as you continue to enjoy a cozy slumber under the comforter with your head on the pillows. After a bit, you feel another shift on the mattress along with the warmth of another body whose smell you know all too well. 

“Happy birthday, my love,” Steven whispers with a gentle kiss to your cheek.

You let out a tired moan as you roll into Steven’s body, wrapping an arm around his middle and burying your face into his chest as you try to pull yourself back into a deep sleep. 

“Come now, I’ve made you your favorite. And I have a nice big mugga mornin’ Joe with your name on it,” he encourages.

You unbury your head slightly, looking up at him with still heavy eyes. He smiles as he looks down at you, kissing your forehead.

“I knew if the kisses didn’t do it, the coffee would,” he chuckles.

As you sit up in bed, Steven twists his torso and places a breakfast tray on your lap, presenting you with waffles, fresh cut fruit, and veggie sausage.

“Thank you, hon,” you tell him, pulling him in for a kiss.

“Anythin’ for the birthday girl,” he hums, placing a kiss on your neck that sends goosebumps throughout your body. “I still wish you could’ve taken the day off.”

“Trust me, if I didn’t have these big meetings, I’d probably just stay in bed with you three.”

“Don’t give Jake any ideas—he’d find a way to make those meetings cancelled,” Steven chuckles, stealing a strawberry for himself. You know there’s nothing particularly aphrodisic or phallic about a strawberry, but watching Steven’s lips move around the red fruit and how his tongue licks away the juice sends your head spinning. Steven catches you looking at him and smirks. “Yes, love?”

“Oh, nothing,” you blush as you move to take a bite of the waffles in front of you.

“Mm, likely story,” he hums as he licks his lips once more, bringing his lips to your pulse point for a chaste kiss.

“I don’t know that I’m gonna be able to finish these, hon,” you chuckle as you take a closer look at the stack. “You made eight?”

“I’ve seen you devour a stack of waffles with no issue before.”

“Yeah, on a weekend where I don’t have to go do a full day of work later.”

“Then lucky for you, I am here to help,” he smiles, stealing your fork to snatch a bite of waffles for himself. “Bloody hell, I’m a good cook.”

We continue to sit in bed and eat the fluffy breakfast food until you have to get ready for work. As you fix your hair in the bathroom, Steven takes care of the dishes; he finishes drying them as you move from the bathroom to put on your clothes. As you slide on your sweater, Steven shuffles into the bedroom.

“Let me walk you to work today?” he whispers as he lifts out the hair tucked into the collar of your sweater. 

“I want to say yes, but then I wouldn’t want to go in or have you leave,” you respond just as quietly. “Especially after a morning like this one. It’d be the bed predicament on the sidewalk.”

Steven brings his lips to yours slowly as you wrap your arms around his waist. The kiss is tender and lazy, much like how you wish you could spend the day with one another. Steven lets out a defeated sigh as his lips part from yours, resting his forehead against yours.

“Text me when you get there?” he asks as his fingers play with your hair.

“Of course,” you tell him. "Love you."

Steven hands you your purse, letting you adjust it on your shoulder before he places more quick kisses on your lips, murmuring a "Love you more," as you attempt to make it out the door.

“What?” you chuckle as you put your purse on the table by the door. Jake is leaning on the kitchen table like a puppy that needs to be let out.

“I can’t wait for my girlfriend to do part two of her birthday?” Jake smirks as he suavely moves over from the wooden surface and meets you at the door, his hands on your waist as he plants a passionate kiss on your lips.

“And what would part two be, exactly?” you smile as you bite your lip, keeping them just out of reach of his so you don’t spend the rest of the night making out in the kitchen—although, you wouldn’t be opposed to it.

“I can’t give away all of the details, mi corazón. Now, go to the bedroom, put on what’s laid out, and then we’ll go to part two.”

You smirk at him and scrunch your eyebrows playfully as you try to figure out what he has planned. You do as he asks, nonetheless. Lying on the bed, you see a beautiful sky blue satin dress with an asymmetrical hemline and silver strappy heels. You slide on the dress and it fits like a glove—so much like a glove, you can see the line of your underwear underneath the fabric. Lightly chuckling to myself, you slide off your panties and take off your bra. Usually, you’d be opposed to going full commando, but when you see yourself in the mirror, everything looks better—the dress was made to be worn on your body without undergarments. You slide on the heels to finish off the look and quickly comb your hair to revitalize it from the day. When you meet Jake back in the living room, he licks his lips and smirks as he looks at you, giving you bedroom eyes as you move closer to him.

“Now will you tell me what we’re doing?” you coo as you run your hands up and down his chest.

“No,” he smiles as he pulls you in for a searing kiss, squeezing your ass for scientific reasons, you’re sure.

“You’re not wearing anything underneath this, are you?” he breathes against your lips.

“Not a stitch,” you hum as you move his hands off your rear, taking a step back and opening the door with your things in hand. “Lead the way, Lockley.”

He gives you a bedroom smirk and mutters a string of Spanish curses and erotic notions under his breath—something about not realizing how sexy you’d look and what he’d rather be doing to you.

“Don’t worry, babe, I think all of you boys will be able to do those kinds of things later,” you assure him as you pull him down by his tie for a kiss. “Patience is a virtue.”

“Not when vice looks as good as you in satin.”

Jake captures your lips in a passionate and lusty kiss that still maintains an air of chastity to it—his mind on the mission of the surprise, but his heart veering towards your shared bed.

“Come on, cariño,” he rasps as he takes your hand and leads you out of the apartment and down the stairs.

“I don’t even get a hint?” you try again as you walk along the sidewalk.

“Tell me what you think we’re doing.”

“Really? Twenty questions on my birthday?”

“Play along,” he chuckles.

“Fine,” you sigh dramatically as you lace your fingers with his. “It’s definitely somewhere fancy?”

“Is it, though?”

“I’m dressed to the nines. I don’t see how it can’t be somewhere fancy.”

“Or I wanted to show you off.”

“Okay,” you say, processing Jake’s cheeky remark, thinking of all the possibilities. “Well, dinner would be too obvious, so it clearly can’t be that.”

“Clearly,” he chuckles. “Come on, cariño, I thought you knew me better than this.”

“Ouch, gut punch!” you say, poking at it side. “I’m still thinking. You are an expert at being sneaky, I’m trying to process my options.”

“Well, you should come up with one soon. We’re almost there.”

Knowing the area, you scan through all the storefronts you can bring to your mind, when something clicks with your ensemble.

“Jake Lockley, are you taking me dancing?” you hum as you look over to him, his eyes sparkling in the dim London light.

“It took you long enough to figure it out,” he chuckles as he guides you to the left into a little courtyard that is all done up where other couples are waiting to start the lessons. “We’re gonna put those hips of yours to a different kind of work. Just for a short while, at least.”

“I’m sorry I don’t have anything fun or culinary up my sleeves,” Marc says as the two of you walk hand in and through the quiet park, the path lit by beautiful old street lamps.

“You don’t need to apologize for anything,” you tell him. “I know how much effort you all put into today. It’s nice to wrap it all up with dinner and a little stroll.”

A gentle breeze begins to pick up, and Marc immediately shrugs off his bomber jacket to place on your shoulders. You want to protest, but you love having things that he wears on your body—the warmth form his frame, the smell of his skin and cologne, the silent gesture of love.

“Thanks, baby,” you tell him softly as he presses a kiss to your cheek.

“Did you have a good day today?” he asks, matching your tone. “I know you mentioned your meetings—.”

“Yeah, the meetings from hell,” you sigh as you roll your neck, the mere thought of them bringing tension to your body. “Not only could they all have been emails, but they were ridiculously long and were so unproductive that we knew less by the end than we did at the start. Debbie led both.”

“Oh no, not Debbie.”

“Mmhm. Don’t get me started with that one.” You let out a long sigh and rest your head on his shoulder. “But it’s all worth it, because I get to come home to an amazing system of men who love me.”

He rests his cheek on top of your head. “We love you, too, baby.”

“How about we go home and take a bath? Wind down from the day. Get naked and wet together.”

“Mm, two of my favorite adjectives.”

“Maybe we can add some other adjectives you like to that mix,” you chuckle, lightly checking his hip with yours.

Taking a turn off the path of the park, you hop on the sidewalk and make the short walk back to the flat, snuggling close in the old elevator as it drags its way up to the top floor. 

“You want me to put on a kettle for tea or coffee or something?” you hum as you unlock the door, tossing your keys into the dish as you make your way in. “Or are we going to save all the warm water for—what are you doing?”

In your living room, Marc is perched down on one knee, a little open box in his hands as he looks up at me with his rich brown eyes.

“We were actually gonna do this next week,” Marc starts, his voice soft, the edges brimming with emotion. “But we thought this might be a really great way to end your birthday.”

“Baby . . .”

“(Y/N), I don’t think I need to begin to tell you how much we all love you. If I did, we’d be here for a hell of a long time, I’d loose feeling in my legs from the knee down, and you’d offer to help me walk over to the bed, just like how you are always there to help me and Steven and Jake with whatever comes up. You see us as whole people. You make us feel whole. You have the biggest, most caring heart that a person can have, and you love so selflessly . . .” Marc sniffles and furrows his brows as he tries to keep his cool. You take a few steps toward him, kneeling down and wiping his tears away with your thumbs. 

“Marc,” you say softly, his name on your tongue dripping with emotions.

“We can’t imagine our lives without you in it, and we never want to,” Marc continues. “Will you marry us?”

“Of course,” you practically sob, wrapping your arms around him and holding him tight. He holds you back just as firm, neither of you saying a word. Marc is the one who eventually breaks the embrace, moving to take out the ring out of the box to slide it on your finger slowly.

“It’s a pink sapphire, but it looks purple, and you love purple—,” Marc starts.

“—and gold jewelry looks so lovely on your skin, cariño—,” Jake continues.

“—and it’s a vintage settin’ so there’s no ill-environmental effects,” Steven finishes. “Happy birthday, my love.”

“You guys are sure?” you sniffle, your teary eyes frantically scanning their faces. “Are you sure you guys love me? That this is what you want?”

“Mi corazón, where is this coming from?” Jake asks softly, brushing tears off of your cheek. “Of course this is what we want. We’ve never felt this way about anyone before. We only want you, amore.”

“It just doesn’t feel real. It feels like a dream.”

“It’s very real, love,” Steven says, gentle hands on your shoulders as he leans forward to place a sweet kiss on your forehead. “And you already said yes—there’s no take-backs.”

You let out a wet laugh as you move back in to kiss Steven—he always knows just what to say to bring a smile to your face.

“Well, I guess if there’s no take backs.”

As Steven leans forward to kiss you again, and you feel distinct shift just before we part, and you’re met once more with Marc.

“Is it still a yes?” he asks carefully.

“Of course it’s still a yes. I’ve got the three best guys in the world—why wouldn’t I want to make it official?”

Marc smiles brighter than you’ve ever seen in your life. He leans forward to kiss you once more, his arms wrapping around you tightly and picks you up, much to your surprise. The two of you continue to kiss as he walks you to the bed and lays you down on the mattress, only briefly parting from you to brush some stray hairs off of your face.

“Happy birthday, baby,” he whispers, his forehead resting on yours, allowing you to feel his eyelashes brush your cheeks. 

“I love you all so much,” you whisper. “Thank you for choosing me.”

Marc gingerly kisses the tip of your nose. “Forever and always.”

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[buckys-little-belle]

Chapter Three - Raindrops and Goodbyes

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SFW - Please keep all interactions with this post, and this blog, SFW. 

Warnings - Talks about past (bad) Caregivers, talks about fear of abandonment, some heavy negative feelings, comparing oneself to others, fluff but ends in some angst, Bub eats, food mentioned, Bub cries 

Word Count - 1751

Note - Sorry this took so long to get out! Things got hectic, and crappy, and I haven't been able to edit, or format, or really write lately! Luckily things are going well and I won't start school till the 16th so I'm hoping to get some stuff out in the next week or so! Part four will be posted tomorrow! I can't leave us on a sad note for too long! I just can't!!

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Y/n always hated wearing her yellow raincoat, the material feeling odd against her skin, and the crinkle of the fabric was never music to her ears. But on days like this, grey skies and heavy raindrops falling to the ground, she had no choice but to suit up. Her matching rain boots on, allowing her to splash in any puddle she felt needed to be played in. 

As she neared the Cafe she got excited, Bucky said they would go to the park today, and although it’s running she has hopes that he’ll let them go anyways, her umbrella overhead creating enough of a dry patch to maybe, at the least, run around in the mud without catching a nasty cold. 

“Mr!” She cheered as she walked in, something she did every time she saw him sat at his usual table, early as always. “I has something for you!” She smiled big as she unzipped the front pocket of her backpack “Here.” Her smile grew as Bucky’s mirrored hers, the small baggie with flowers printed on it full of chocolate chip cookies her pride and joy. 

“You made these?” 

“Yes!” Y/n says still standing, ready to leave for the park wherever Bucky is ready. Shifting her weight from one foot to another, growing impatient. “All on my own!” She cheered, proud of her baked goods. “Park now?” Bub asked, her smile still huge, both hands grasping the straps of her bag, now back on her back. 

“It’s raining, Bub.” Bucky frowned, causing Bub to mirror his expression. “But we’ll go next time, okay?” He asked, his hands immediately helping Y/n out of her raincoat, the buttons soon undone. 

“But you promised?” Y/n frowned, her eyebrows drawn together in confusion. “I wanted to go to d’park.” Y/n held back her tears, though she wished to stomp her foot and throw a small fit, she didn’t know Bucky well enough to truly let him see her little side completely. So instead she fixed her clothing after her coat had been taken off and sat in her usual seat. 

“I know I promised, Bub.” She smiled at the nickname. “But I brought us a fun game to play today.” He was quickly making her forget about the park trip altogether, now excited to see whatever game he had brought. She hoped it wasn’t UNO, she sucked at that. “Here.” He said as he placed a game on the table, the pink and blue of Candyland making Y/n let out a small squeal. 

“I love Candyland!” She grabbed the box and bounced in her seat. “Can we play now?” She asked, her eyes turning to Bucky, him already looking at her. “Please?” She added on for good measure. 

The moment he nodded his head she opened the box, pulling all the pieces out. “Why don’t you set it up, and I get us some snacks?” Bucky asked, Y/n didn’t even look up at him, but nodded her head. Too busy pulling out the different characters. 

Y/n didn’t know how long it took Bucky to get snacks, but by the time he got back to the table she had created a whole plot amongst the characters and their kingdoms. “Here, Bub.” Bucky said as he placed a plate on the table. It was more than the usual cake pop he got her, though one still sat on the plate. This time he got vegetables and dip, some goldfish, and a cup of juice. 

“Thank you, Mr.” Y/n smiled up at him, grabbing a celery stick and dipping it. “Can I be the ice cream cone?” She asked, showing him the character she had in her hand. Bucky nodded but stayed sitting. “You need’a pick a lil guy.” She pointed to the characters situated around the board. 

“Right.” He said, his expression growing serious as he looked each one over. “I’ll pick this one, he looks tough.” Y/n broke out into a fit of giggles, the marshmallow definitely not a ‘tough guy’. 

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They got to playing the game, Y/n winning two times in a row. She wasn’t surprised, while she knew it was all down to luck, she had played the game a ton of times so clearly the Candyland gods liked her more than Bucky. “Are you cold bub?” Bucky asked her, making her realise she was shivering slightly.

She knew not bringing a sweater might be a bad idea, but she thought they were going to the park. “Um, yeah.” She nodded then shrugged her shoulders. She hoped he wouldn’t make her go back home and get one, she only had so much time in a day to spend at the cafe. “Bu’ I’m all good, can we play again?” She asked, moving their pieces back to the star. 

“Yeah we can play again, just wait a second.” Bucky stood up, she wondered where he was going, but instead of leaving to grab something or go to the bathroom he stood at the side of her booth with a black sweater in hand. “Hands up, Bub.” He said, holding the sweater out. 

“I don’ need your sweater, wha’ if yous get cold?” She asked, not sure if her being so comfortable around Bucky her little side couldn’t help but come out now was a good thing or a bad thing. While she was 100% sure Bucky was a safe guy to be around, she didn’t want to get too attached to him just in case. 

“I won’t get cold.” He answered in a softer voice. She knew he was special, that’s what everyone in the newspapers said, that he’s indestructible. But she’d hate to be the person who gave a super soldier a cold because she took his sweater. “Bub.” His voice drew her out of her worrying. He was now crouched down so they were eye level. “I won’t get cold, but you’re shivering.” He didn’t wait for her to put her arms up, instead just putting it over her head and waiting for her to put her arms through on her own.

“Tanks.” Bub murmured, looking at Bucky with a small smile. She was thankful for the sweater, now warm, but she still worried that she was too much to handle. He had given her a lot, crayons, colouring pages, so much of his time, and now his sweater. She hadn’t given him anything but cookies that she hoped tasted okay. 

“Why don’t we play again?” Bucky asked as he settled back into his seat. “I can feel it, I’m going to win this one.” He teased, she shook her head, he had no clue that the Candyland gods were on her side, and she hoped he would never know. 

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Y/n frowned as she saw Bucky pacing around outside. It had stopped raining but he said that they should wait till a sunny day to go out, because ‘everything would be slippery’. Buck’s phone had rung five hours ago, well maybe two minutes ago, but it felt like forever as she just watched him pace with an unhappy look on his face. 

She grabbed the last few goldfish and got back to her colouring, when she had won for a third time Bucky had to quit, saying his ego couldn’t handle anymore. Y/n giggled at the memory. 

The doorbell rang out and she quickly turned, though her smile turned back into a frown when she saw Bucky’s sad expression. “I’m sorry, I have to go, Bub.” He said, his sad words said in a kind tone. 

“Oh, otay.” Y/n answered, watching him pack up his things. “Will you be back tomorrow?” She asked, her crayons laid on the table instead of in her hands. 

Bucky sighed, then sat down, his hands clasped on the table. “I’m going to be gone until next wednesday.” Y/n’s back straightened up, he’d be gone for nine days. That was a lot of time to be gone, and a lot of time for him to think and change his mind about her. 

“Oh, do you, do you wan’ your sweater back?” She asked, wiggling her hands out of the sleeves before Bucky got to her. His hands covering hers, a painful smile on his face. 

“You can keep it, I’ll get it back when I come back okay?” Y/n nodded. “I’ll put my phone number in your phone, and I’ll text you if I’m going to be back later than wednesday, okay?” She nodded her head, at least he wasn’t just up and leaving, he was giving her a point of contact if needed. She handed him her phone, watching as he took forever to type out his name and number. It was a little silly to watch. “I won’t be able to text or call you while I’m away.” He admitted. “But you can text me all you want and I’ll read them when I’m back.” Bucky offered, though she knew she wouldn’t do that, she wouldn’t bother him while he was away, she knew people hated that. 

She just nodded her head, watching him as he put his coat and backpack on. “Stay safe.” She whispered as he stood in front of her, ready to leave. 

“And you be good, Bub.” Bucky whispered back, and then he was gone. She watched him get into his jeep and drive away. She knew her mind was being silly when she couldn’t help but think he wouldn’t come back, but it didn’t mean it stopped that train of thought. 

She knew deep down that he had to leave, he didn’t want to, but he had to. She knew he wasn’t like the other people who became her friends and then left and never came back, she knew that, somewhere in her mind she knew that. But she still couldn’t help it as a few tears slipped down her cheeks as she cleaned up. She couldn’t help but let out a small sad noise as she put on her coat, and she couldn’t help but sob the moment she got home and into bed. 

“He had to go save people, he was needed by the world because he's a good guy, that’s why he left.” She whispered to herself all night, but she still felt as though he had left because of something she did.

[sturnlova]

Jealous for attention

( Matt Sturniolo x Female reader )

( Warning : Smut, not proof read all the way, fluff, angst, bit long i got carried away 😭 pet names )

Matt : Blue

Y/N : Pink

Chris : Orange

Nick : Purple

( Word count : 1.6k)

@blackhorses-posts i hope you like ❤️

——————————————————

Me and Nick have been best friends for over 7 years. We first meet in high school and soon became closer, of course getting closer meant being friends with his brothers, it was a packaged deal. But little did i know that i would start dating the middle triplet Matt.

All of us were very close, i even moved to LA with them and i still live with them which means we are always together or with each other. Like no other day we were all huddled up on the couch, My upper body laying on matt’s lap and my legs spread across Nicks. I hear Chris tease me by asking if i have enough room, i snapped my eyes to him and gave him a death glare.

As time went by and my hunger grew stronger i asked Matt to get food for us. Matt groaned a bit before moving my body up to sit me down on the couch to grab his keys.

“Y/N get up babe we have to get food” soon as that sentence left Matt’s mouth nick pounced on me and spoke for me.

“Me and Y/N want to stay home we are so tired today take Chrisss” Nick made sure to drag the S. Chris looked at both of us hugging on the couch and than looked at his brother who had jealousy and sadness in his eyes. He realised Matt is gonna throw a hissy fit if he doesn’t go. Chris got up and walked to the door to get the food for the princess’s.

Once me and Nick heard the door close and lock Nick grabbed the control and played icarly well we hugged on the couch to entrain ourselves until they got back. After 15 minutes me and nick started getting impatient so i decided to take matters into my own hands and message Matt.

| To Matty B 💓💓:

Matty!! How far are you?! me and nick are so hungryyyy

| From Matty B 💓💓:

B there soon.

I showed nick our conversation because he was acting so dry and weird for some reason. Nick looked down at me with a confused look “ His probably just trying to stay focus on the road Y/N it will be alright.” I trusted nick’s word as his my best friend.

As 10 Minutes passed me and nick finally heard the keys jingle to open the door. Chris walked in with the bags of Mcdonald’s and placed it on the table and yelled “come eat!!” Me and nick jumped to the food bags and started scavenging through the bag to get our food and return to watch icarly. Once we successfully got our food and got comfy on the couch Matt walked in and stared at me before placing the keys on the table and heading upstairs.

I turned my head to Chris and asked what’s wrong and if i did something wrong, Chris just shrugged his shoulders and mumbled under his breath that Matt was quiet the whole car ride. I felt tears start to brim around my eyes, i know it sounds dramatic but i’m an overly sensitive person when it comes to hurting someone i just feel so guilty.

As me, Nick and Chris ate i struggled to keep focus on icarly and eating the food as i was concerned for Matt. A couple of minutes later i stood up and slowly walked my way with my plate in my hand to place it down on the marble bench. I told the 2 boys on the couch that im going for a nap, they all hummed in response as they were so fixated on the food and show playing.

I watched as my feet went one by one up the stairs making a slight noise well heading to me and Matt’s room. I entered the room and saw matt sat on his gaming chair. “matt you okay?” i asked nicely and i got a negative response instead “i’m fine.” ok i see how it is. I laid on the bed and just watched Matt on his phone ignoring me, he was never like this he was always huddled up with me or talking or just listening to me talk.

I decided to start talking and all the response i got back was “mhm” “cool” “yeah” what the fuck is up with him all i wanted to do was spend time. “ Matthew what’s wrong you have been rude and ignoring me since i asked for food! if u didn’t want to go u could’ve said something instead of being a bitch!” by now i had tears running down my flushed cheeks.

“Christ are you crying ? oh i’m so sorry baby i never meant to make you cry it’s just that i felt i don’t know.. jealous of nick i know it sounds stupid because his my brother but i just felt like i didn’t have any attention and i was jealous for attention and i didn’t know how to say that i just wanted to spend time with you.. im so sorry.” i looked at matt as he reached his hands out to my face and wiped my tears.“ i’m sorry Matt that you didn’t have attention my love, you don’t have to be embarrassed to ask to spend time with your girlfriend, you have to speak to me.”

Matt moved his body to me and pulled me to a tight hug, once he removed his body from mine he kissed the corner of my eyes as a small way to say another sorry. I pulled matt into another hug again, he tapped the side of my thigh in a way to say jump, i did what i was told and jumped for my legs to be around his waist along with my arms wrapped around his neck. He started kissing my neck and spots behind my ears to make me fumble.

He walked us forward which is backwards for me and laid me on his brown silk bedsheets, he slowly took off my blue fresh love sweat pants and my white lacey underwear, he than dragged his cold fingertips up my body and cupped my breasts and pinched the nipple and massaged my breasts.

“Matt please fuck me i need to feel you” “fine only cause u deserve this” He slowly moved his middle finger to my hole and started curving it; it didn’t take me long to feel my orgasm creeping up on me but Matt also noticed this so he pulled his finger out of me.

“ what the fuck matt i was about to finish.” “ hey watch ur tone with me “ i shut my mouth and spread my legs as wide as they could go. Matt licked his lips and stepped out of his sweet pants and his red boxers. His tip was a raging pink with pre cum coming out of it, he moved his palm to my cunt and got my wetness on his hand to stroke himself.

Matt adjusted my legs on his shoulders and added his length to me, i could feel the stretching and burning sensation; we’ve had sex before but he was big so i never got used to it. Once he was fully in me, he started moving in and out of me at a rapid past. I was blown over pressure, my knuckles turning white due to the fact i was gripping onto the bed sheets, i moaned loud forgetting Chris his brother and Nick my best friend who is also his brother are home.

Matt looked down at his dick slipping in and out of me and the bludge in my stomach. He locked eyes with me and moved his big hand over the bludge and pressed down on it, this made me feel intense amount of pleasure. “ Matt fuck please i need to cum let me cum daddy please fuckk” “fuck Y/N i’m gonna fucking cum in you, gonna put a baby in you, fuck fuck fuck cum with me” with Matt’s last words “cum with me” i did, i let my whole body release and go limp as i came all over his cock.

Matt released same time as me and slowly pulled out of me making me hiss as i suddenly started feeling empty. He rolled over to lay to the side of me and kissed my check. “ i’m sorry baby that i was acting like a arsehole” As he spoke he rubbed his thumb over my cheeks, “it’s okay matt just speak to me, i love you let’s go get clean.”

5 minutes after matt rolled out of bed and carried me to the toilet, he placed me down and told me to pee. Once i peed and wiped, Matt put on boxers and sweatpants and put my underwear and his sweatpants along with his black top that was too big for me. He kissed my temple and asked if i wanted to go back to the couch, i nodded in response as i was tired.

As we walked down the stairs we heard Chris moaning and Nick telling him to stop cause it’s gross. Me and Matt side eyed eachother and faced Chris, “Chris why are you moaning.” “oops sorry we were making-“ Chris got cut off from Nick saying Chris was making fun of Y/N for moaning so loud. Matt and I giggled before sitting on the couch to watch Icarly to end the night.

thank yall for 200 followers and the crazy amount of likes 💓 i can’t even express how grateful i am, i know it doesn’t sound it but I’m not very good at saying how i feel but i love y’all so much ❣️

[cleo30300]

• M.A.A.D CITY , CHAPTER ONE! BACKSEAT FREESTYLE.

warnings : none!

previous part | next part.

— “ Miles Morales.. seventeen years old.. attends Brooklyn Visions…— “

A secretary reads the contract out loud, straightening the paper with the tips of her manicured fingers. She’s standing perfectly upright, professional glasses perched on her nose admirably. Miles is mentally sinking into his chair, but physically, he’s sitting in a cool manner with a stoic expression. Hazel eyes focused on the man rotating in his chair behind the beautifully carved wooden desk. Don’t take your eyes off of him. You hesitate, he hesitates.

He’s cracking his knuckles, trying to prevent his leg from bouncing so he doesn’t look nervous even though he is. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Once in a lifetime, people get signed by Norman Osborn and he just happens to be one of the lucky ones. Trophies and belts are plastered on the walls in elegant glass cases, and it only makes him feel more pressured. Miles bit the inside of his cheek, narrowing his eyes and trying to keep focus on what the secretary was saying.

“ He’s in the middle of his junior year at Brooklyn Visions and lives with his mother. “

“ Just his mother?.. And who is she? “, Norman’s gravelly voice echoes throughout the large office. Miles cringes at the way the older man enunciated the fact that he only lives with his mother.

“ Rio Morales, she’s forty one years old and works as a nurse. “

Miles is also cringing at the fact that they know so much about him and his family. Does he know everyone in the city?

“ Perfect! You have a nurse to go back to if you get injured on the job, kiddo! “, the man slaps his knee harshly and croaks out a laugh. Miles doesn’t think it’s very funny and his eyebrows furrow. His knuckles don’t make a popping noise when they crack anymore since he’s done it to every finger by now.

He wonders if they know about you and where you live.

Norman’s laughter dies down and he takes a sip of the water that looks like it’s been sitting there for a very long time.

“ You’re only seventeen and you’re all ready to go, huh?”, he says, popping his chapped lips, “ Yeah. That’s some passion, kid. We need young boys like you to join the ranks, ‘cause these old fools just aren’t doin’ it anymore. “

“ Thank you. “, the corners of Miles’ lips quirk up. This has been his dream since his uncle first showed him the belts he and his dad won ‘ back in the day. ‘. Since he entered the ring on the day of his very first match, it was shady and underground but it still counts. His dream expanded when he met you. A need to make you and his mama feel proud of him. He needs this.

“ It was nice to meet you, Mr. Osborn. “, he stands up from the velvet seat, fixing his jacket and making sure not to wrinkle the nice carpet that's under his feet.

“ It was good to meet you too, Morales. I think you and I are going to be good partners, eh? “

Miles nods, making a silent oath to his uncle and father that he’ll prevail in this industry. He’s not throwing away his shot.

“ He’s just like his mom, y’know? “, Ms. Morales’ voice cuts through your mind as you scrub the porcelain dish sitting in the sink. The atmosphere of the Morales home is always cosy and you’re glad that it stays domestic and comfortable even when Miles isn’t here to ensure you don't say the wrong thing. Which you haven’t, by the way, which gives you a point. ( Miles said you wouldn’t stand a chance without him. )

“ How so? “, you ask, drying the plate with a towel. She taps a spoon against a tall, plastic bowl to dump the rest of the leftovers from tonight's meal into it. “ Well, he’s stubborn. Doesn’t listen, cabeza dura. “

“ Those sound kinda negative. “, you laugh, smiling as you put the dishes in their respectful areas.

“ Yes, but— they’re good qualities. Means he doesn’t know when to quit and that’s a good thing. You keep trying and you get somewhere. “, she sighs, “ That’s where I want my little boy to be. ‘Cause he’s special and I know you see it, too. That’s where I want this whole boxing thing to take him, y’know? “

You hum, smiling warmly to yourself at this interaction with your best friend's mother. You’re glad she likes you and you’re glad that she can see that you see Miles the way she does. He’s a sweet boy, caring, a little sarcastic and silent but it’s okay. Because he makes up for it with the little things—like texting you goodmorning and goodnight— it’s the smaller things that make up for his slightly abrasive personality. You understand him like no other, you think. He understands you the same.

The front door’s knob rattles a bit before he’s walking in, unexpected but not unwelcome ( Not in his own home, of course. ) He’s not wearing a sour expression or sporting a black eye, instead, there’s a slight raise in his eyebrows. A slight glow in his already bright eyes. You’re smiling too, he notices as he looks up at you standing in the kitchen of his apartment.

“ Hey. “, you say, drying your hands and walking toward him.

“ Hey, “ and he’s inching closer towards you, placing a hand on your shoulder and trying to hold back his ecstatic smile. “ I got it. “

“ You got the contract? “

He nods, the whites of his teeth breaking through his lips as he closes his eyes and looks down towards the floor. Ms. Morales walks towards the both of you and wraps Miles into a big hug. “ Estoy tan orgulloso de ti, mi hijo! “

She looks at you and brushes your hair back with her hand, nodding, “ You’re a good one, dear. “ This has been his dream for a long time and he’s finally accomplishing it. She’s glad that you’re here with him, you make him better. Good.

You can’t help but nod, unsure of what to say. You feel like thank you would be too formal, but doing nothing at all would be rude. So you just nod.

“ No es así, mami. Ella es solo una amiga. “, he says, looking away from you and turning to her.

“ Oh, no seas así. Ella también es bonita! “

You understand bonita. It means pretty. She thinks you’re pretty and that’s all you want to know about their conversation. Ms. Morales exits the kitchen and walks off to her own room, smiling to herself. Miles looks at you bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck and sighing. “ Did you already eat somethin’? “

“ Did you? “

“ .. No. “

translations :

cabeza dura. - hardheaded.

Estoy tan orgulloso de ti, mi hijo! - I’m so proud of you, my son!

No es así, mami. Ella es solo una amiga. - It’s not like that, mami. She’s only a friend.

Oh, no seas así. Ella también es bonita! - Oh, don’t be like that. She’s pretty too!

[the-s1lly-corner]

Gooooood day to you wonderful author! I hope you’re having a swell time and that those pesky wasps called negativity are swatted and shooed away. I’ve scrolled your work and have thoroughly enjoyed your stories and thoughts, so maybe if you would be so kind as to hear me out, I’d gladly pay you a penny for my thoughts!

The TADC work is brilliant, and thus I had an idea! What if this rambunctious crew, met a their S/O who is rather cartoony in nature and take to the world of the circus rather well, being bouncy, stretchy and all around a ball of joy as they embrace this toon power they’ve been given.

The idea came to me when I was fiddling with a sticky hand, whilst rewatching the pilot, and thought how amusing it would be to see someone embrace these looney toon abilities.

TADC cast x cartoony!reader !

yahoo i now have some down time to take a crack at requests today! im making gingerbread cookies, peppermint macarons w/ white chocolate ganache, and double chocolate macarons! all for a friend as a christmas gift! yahoo!! waiting for the first bath of macarons to dry out before baking; cant do both since i only have one decent sized pan that can pit my silicone mat without it bending... bent macarons..... thinks also dullahan by worthikids has me in a death grip rn so im playing that on loop while i tackle these requests i am going to go insane!

CAINE:

oh this man fully embraces it... in fact he even encourages it, i think! i mean caine himself is pretty whacky and cartoony, it only makes sense thats hes going to really enjoy you. i think his approval may lead to you being a little more rowdy than you normally would be with anyone else... likes to use IHAs to see how far your funny physics can go... bonus if you get those little... emote things when you're feeling an emotion particularly strongly (ex. hearts for adoration, the red vein for anger or annoyance, the blue line things to express sadness or disgust and the like. stuff like that idk i just think that would be neat). you guys get outright silly with it, totally funky, completely strange you know? whimsical, even! plus i like to think that caine has a touch more "cartoon physics" than the others but thats just admin being silly

POMNI:

obligatory "pomni is put off by it at first thanks to her being new and having to adjust to the physics of this new digital world.... well adjust to the digital world as a whole" so without a doubt, shes going to look mildly uncomfortable or confused when you just fully embrace to funky cartoon physics of the world. in fact it even looks like your physics are even more cartoony than everyone else's... odd.... i think it would take her some time to get used to it, but she wouldnt try to be rude about it or make you feel bad for her surprise discomfort, you know? doesnt like when your rambunctiousness makes you a little reckless, though, but thats just her care for you showing! you can be a little overwhelming for her, sometimes, by being all... bouncing off the walls... literally and physically... communication is key here if you guys want a decent relationship; be it romantic or platonic

RAGATHA:

for the most part she loves you for who you are, and your randomness and shenanigans do put a smile on her face more often than not. she just finds you so endearing, and finds your funky physics to be just as cute! buuuuut.... sometimes you can get overwhelming... ragatha already has so much on her plate, with being this beacon of optimism for herself and others, the IHAs, having to make sure no one is at each others throats.. i mean i know we only have the pilot to work off thus far but ragatha gives me mediator vibes. so getting back on topic, i do think that sometimes she needs to be firm and let you know to tone it down, or to let her have a moment to herself because the last thing she wants to do is make you feel bad if she gets too irritated... holds

JAX:

another obligatory thing but you can stretch and squash hes going to try to find a way to tie that in with a prank or one of his jokes. now if youre teaming up with him or the one being pranked really depends on how jax feels; because i think even his "partner in crime" wouldnt be immune to his bullshit. but consider, given the readers personality, what if theyre a little bit of a prankster themselves and they utilize their extra bounciness for pranks; effectively starting a prank war with jax. like imagine the chaos that would spew from something like that. i could go on a tangent for that, but the admin has a pea brain rn TToTT

has probably crushed you down into a ball shape and used you as a bowling ball. throws you. au where reader is in the circus but theyre the bowling ball jax throws at kinger

KINGER:

honestly he might mistake you for an npc at first and be wary of getting close to you because... well you arent real... except you are..! it takes him a while to realize that, he didnt know someone as whacky as you could exist, and hes been here for a long while! that said when you guys do befriend each other. please try to tone down any recklessness that may come with your rambunctiousness, this poor old man is already stressing out enough about things...! dont give him a heart attack,..! though i guess the bonus of having funky whacky body physics is that you give good hugs and/or cuddles since you can easily and comfortably wrap yourself around the other person.... ponders... so you know what, at least hes comforted via that

ZOOBLE:

easily irritated so you guys are going to have to work together to make things word; so zooble doesnt too overstimulated and so you dont have to change or greatly suppress yourself. say it with me: communication is key, baby!!! definitely takes a lot of time to make something work.... stealing this idea from jax's part, but if youre in the middle of a prank war with jax, where its just you and him going at each other zooble is going to be sliding you ideas and perhaps might come up with ideas to utilize your weird anatomy... very evil, they just want to see jax get karma, i think...

GANGLE:

also can get easily overwhelmed with your wild personality, but not so much in an "overstimulated" way and more so a... wait no i guess thats the best wording for it? plus gangle seems to be the type of person to enjoy her calm and quiet peaceful time, when shes not thrust into the chaos of an IHA... so similar to zooble, you guys are going to have to do a lot of communication and teamwork if you want a good relationship. gangle DOES feel bad, though, like she is inconveniencing you... please reassure her... not many ideas for the whacky physics thing here, simply because i dont think she would have any special thoughts about anyone's looks or bodies if that makes sense

[marblemoovt]

Tail Training

MASTERLIST

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Fluff, A sprinkle of angst, Mentions/depictions of anxiety and depression. Anything else is in the tags <3

SUMMARY:

At a party, Whis notices that you have noticeably improved your bad habits and offers to train you. Much to your surprise, Whis suggests that you train your tail to eliminate it as a weakness. Will you be able to handle it when he grabs your tail?

------

“This is your first session. I thought some one-on-one training would be more appropriate,” Whis answers, still tugging me by the hand. “I want to start first with a weakness of yours—well, most Saiyans.”

We stop walking, and I stare at our hands still clasped together. When is he going to let go? “And what would that be?” I ask, trying to read his expression.

His violet eyes gleam with amusement, and he gestures with his head. “The appendage wagging behind you, your tail.”

I glance over my shoulder. “What’s my tail got to do with training? Am I going to learn to smack someone into submission with it?” My tail straightens and cracks down like a whip.

NOTE:

Here is another Whis fic! This was another commission. I'm not sure when you guys will see the next one. I was told this is meant to be a slow burn, so expect it to take a while before the relationship is official.

Happy Reading! ヾ(•ω•`)o

It’s been a few weeks since Whis visited my house. Thanks to him, I'm motivated to take better care of myself. Even now, at this party, the first thing he does when he sees me is hand me a glass of water and steer me towards the snack table.

I raise the drink to my lips, hiding a smile. As Whis fills his plate with various snacks and pastries, I nod along and answer any questions.

“So this delightful morsel is called a ‘donut’?” Whis inspects the sugarcoated ball of fried dough.

“Yes, there are various toppings and fillings. You can put pretty much whatever you want on a donut,” I say, flinching when he whirls around and leans closer.

Whis looks at me with sparkling eyes, his skin flushed. “Anything? Truly?’ I nod in response, and he gasps. “Then what modifications have been applied to this one?”

“Um,” I look at the powdered sugar and red hole, “I think that’s just a jelly donut.”

“Fascinating. There are so many uses for pulverized fruit.” Whis pops the pastry into his mouth and moans. “Oooh, this is absolutely amazing!”

He continues to stuff more into his mouth until his cheeks puff. I have to look away to stop myself from laughing. Before I know it, I’m holding a plate of snacks and a new glass of water. Whis said he didn’t want to be the only one eating, and the attention felt nice. He remains at my side, refilling my plate when he notices it’s empty, and only leaves when Beerus calls for him. 

I snap the last cookie from my plate between my teeth. The sudden silence feels too empty. I feel almost… disappointed? I glance across the room to see Whis introduce Beerus to donuts, smiling as the pair devour entire trays. With a full stomach, I can at least focus on hanging out with my friends. I make my rounds to greet everyone, stopping occasionally to talk.

During one of these conversations, my palms grow clammy, and I start to second-guess myself. Am I entertaining enough? I’m not…boring to talk to, right? My grip tightens around my cup by a fraction, and I down the rest of the drink, hoping it dislodges the lump in my throat. 

A few pairs of eyes stare at me, and I realize they’re all waiting for me to respond. How long were they waiting—did they think I was ignoring them? I lick my dry lips, unable to think of what to say, too embarrassed to admit I didn’t hear the tail-end of the conversation.

“What were you all discussing?” Whis butts in, resting his hand on the small of my back. He rubs small circles into my skin, and the tension melts from my body. Someone catches Whis up, and I flash him a grateful smile. ‘You’re alright,’ he mouths to me, squeezing my waist gently. I nod, flushing the negative thoughts from my mind and focusing on the warmth of his hand.

I begin losing track of the conversation, paying more attention to how I’d rather be at home than socialize for another minute. People start noticing that I’m quieter than usual but anyone who confronts me about it receives a snarky remark. This discourages the rest from trying. 

“Are you alright?” Whis walks up to me, taking a bite of another donut. He must really like those. 

“Peachy,” I say, clenching my teeth together. 

Whis hums, and I bristle under his observing stare. “I feel suffocated after spending hours surrounded by large crowds. Would you care to join me on a walk?” he offers his arm to me.

I chew on my bottom lip and glance around. The chatter and laughter in the background tires me, not to mention the loud thrum of music that rumbles through my bones. It feels like someone took my brain and scrambled it in a frying pan. A break. A break sounds nice.

I accept his offer and link our arms together. He guides me outside to a quiet spot in a garden. There’s a bench by a stone walkway that circles a pond. Strings of fairy lights illuminate the area in a soft glow. 

The crisp night air fills my lungs and refreshes my mind. We sit in silence as I regather my thoughts. “Thank you,” I say, staring at the lilypads in the water.

“I should be thanking you,” Whis chuckles. “Spending the night in such lovely company, I couldn’t ask for more.” 

Our shoulders brush together, but his body heat is welcome. His white hair glows against his blue skin like moonlight cast on rippling waves. The warmth in his violet eyes makes my stomach squirm. Whis must think I’m cold because he wraps his arm around me and pulls us closer together. 

“I thought I was getting better, but it was hard to keep talking after a certain point.” I sigh and lean against Whis, reflecting on the past few hours and every conversation I was a part of. 

Whis pats my head and smiles. His eyes look soft almost, a tenderness I don’t usually see them hold. I ignore the flutter in my chest and stare at my lap instead, twiddling with my fingers. “I think your progress is remarkable. You’ve improved. Slowly but surely, you’ve gotten better,” Whis says.

“You think so?”

Whis laughs. “Yes. Compared to a few weeks ago, you’re much more relaxed, and when I tease you, you fight back now.”

A smile tugs my lips. “Yeah, you better watch your back.” I bump our shoulders together, but my confidence wavers at his wide grin.

“Excellent! Why don’t you train under me as well?” He looks at me expectantly, and I can already tell he won’t take no for an answer.

I blink and point a finger at myself. “You want me,” I slowly turn my hand and poke his chest, “to be trained by you?”

Whis nods. “Yes. It will be helpful in your work as a time patroller.” He grabs my hand and lifts my finger to point at his face. “So leave everything to me!”

I tilt my head, staring at his hand, which still holds mine. I’m glad he seems as comfortable with me as I am with him. 

I sigh but can’t stop the smile from forming on my face. “Pft. Ok, why not,” I say, chuckling at how he lights up at my answer.

We continue chatting, but despite my mind being more alert than ever, my body demands rest. Lead weights attach to my eyelids, and my head droops now and then before snapping up as I regain consciousness. Whis walks me home, promising to wake me up on time for our training session. 

I must be exhausted because I barely register the extra body in my bed, falling asleep to Whis’s comforting scent. 

Other than waking up at the crack of dawn, the morning goes by without a hitch. Whis makes me breakfast, insisting I don’t leave a crumb behind lest it hurt his feelings.

Afterwards, Whis leads me to the training grounds, where we meet Goku and Vegeta. He provides them with instructions before guiding me to an unused section.

“You’re not training all of us together?” I ask, craning my head to see the two Saiyans spar. My eyes try to keep up with the blurry motions, but ping-ponging back and forth between them gives me a headache. 

“This is your first session. I thought some one-on-one training would be more appropriate,” Whis answers, still tugging me by the hand. “I want to start first with a weakness of yours—well, most Saiyans.”

We stop walking, and I stare at our hands still clasped together. When is he going to let go? “And what would that be?” I ask, trying to read his expression.

His violet eyes gleam with amusement, and he gestures with his head. “The appendage wagging behind you, your tail.”

I glance over my shoulder. “What’s my tail got to do with training? Am I going to learn to smack someone into submission with it?” My tail straightens and cracks down like a whip.

Whis chuckles and shakes his head. “I heard squeezing a Saiyan’s tail can cause them to lose their strength entirely. One wrong move, and you’re completely paralyzed in battle. Is that correct?” His lips purse as if he’s impatient to reveal the answer.

“No, where’d you hear that nonse—Eek!” I shriek, feeling a jerk on my tail. My entire body stiffens, and every muscle refuses to listen to me. Whis lets go, and I attempt to burn a hole through his head with my glare. 

He flashes a bashful smile, a light pink dusting his cheeks. “Sorry, sorry. What better way to test that theory than to conduct a practical test?”

I huff, the blood still simmering in my veins. “Okay, so what if it is true? I’ve lasted this long with it,” I say, smoothing out the fur. “That’s something many Saiyans can’t claim, especially not after everything I've been through.” 

Whis nods, squeezing my hand. “The loss of your tail would be a shame. The world would lose the fluffiest tail I’ve had the pleasure of seeing,” he sighs and stares forlornly behind me.   

Did he compliment my tail? I wag the appendage behind me, stifling my laughter at how his eyes follow its every move. Is my tail that interesting? “What do you suggest I do about it?” I say.

Whis tilts his head and raises his brows. “We must desensitize you of course. Your tail must learn to endure being touched to strengthen its tolerance,” he says as if the solution is obvious.

I tug my hand free from his grasp and cross my arms.“You just want an excuse to touch my tail.”

Whis brings a hand up to his chest and gasps. “I am astounded by your accusations. I am merely helping you to become stronger,” he says.

I narrow my eyes at him, but he remains unphased. In fact, he looks happier than before. “Alright, fine,” I relent, rolling my eyes at his burst of energy. 

“Wonderful! Have a seat on these boulders. I wouldn’t want you to injure yourself.” He pats the flat surface of one of the rocks, rocking on the heels of his feet. 

I sit, flicking my tail nervously. “Just so we’re clear, this is only for training purposes. I don’t want you getting any strange ideas.” It’s not like I never considered this option before, but touching a Saiyan's tail always felt intimate to me. How could I ask just anyone to do it?

Whis nods. “Crystal clear. Now, let’s start with something easy and increase the intensity slowly.” He gently pets my tail, stroking the soft fur. “How does that feel?” he asks, peering at my face.

I struggle to keep my expression neutral, fighting the muscle spasms. “Doesn’t bother me at all,” I say.

Whis raises a brow, humming in thought. “Really? Looks like I need to take it to the next level then.” His eyes have a mischievous twinkle as he applies more pressure to his touch.

“Hng.” I bite my lip to prevent any more noises from leaking. A familiar heat returns to my cheeks, and I can feel myself start to sweat.

Whis stares at me with wide eyes, and his mouth stretches into a grin. “What was that? Starting to feel a little weak, are we?” He leans close, almost enough that I can feel his breath on my ear.

I refuse to look at him, gritting my teeth. “Not at all. I can handle more than this,” I say, despite knowing that I’m already near my limit.

“If you say so. Then what about now?” Whis grabs my tail, holding it firmly in his hand.

“I-I…” My entire body freezes up again, and only static fills my brain. All my senses are on overload like every nerve is crackling with electricity.

Whis observes me in silence, and his brows knit together. “Are you sure this isn’t affecting you?” he asks, concern lacing his tone.

“....”

He immediately releases my tail. “Please don’t hesitate to tell me to stop. Your comfort comes first. I want you to enjoy this, not hate it,” he says.

I suck in a breath, trying to calm my frazzled nerves. I wet my dry lips with my tongue and mull over my thoughts, figuring out how to word my sentence. “I… I don’t mind it so much if it’s you.” I sneak a glance at Whis, who’s staring at the ground. The tips of his ears are pink, and he refuses to meet my eyes until they return to their usual colour. 

Whis stands up and paces back and forth. “Shall we take a break? You’re looking a little winded. Perhaps a cold drink and a wet towel would help?” he says, offering his hand to me.

I shake my head and close his hand, pushing it back. “I’ll be fine. I just need a minute,” I say.

Whis frowns and stares at his clenched fist. Is he upset I didn’t want to take a break? His posture straightens, and his usual smile is back. “Why don’t we make this a regular occurrence? We can repeat this session until you’ve become immune,” he says.

I purse my lips. “I guess that wouldn’t be so bad. It would be a great help if I didn’t have to worry about my tail while working.” I reflect on my career. I must have been lucky not to encounter someone taking advantage of this weakness, but it would only be a matter of time until I did.  

Whis claps his hands together, bouncing on the spot. “Excellent. Same time tomorrow, then?” He looks at me with puppy-dog eyes, and I forget my outrage momentarily. But then I remember how sensitive my tail felt while he was ‘training’ me and my pride snapped me back to reality.

“What?! I’m not doing this every day!”

“I’m only joking,” Whis chuckles, but then he pauses, and his smile widens. “Though if you wanted to…” He leans forward, and I shove his face back to create some distance.

“No. Maybe once or twice a week, and in return, I want you to cook me breakfast those days,” I say. There’s no way I would let him touch my tail for free, training or not. I may not completely dislike the thought of him seeing me in such a vulnerable state, but it’s only fair I receive something in turn.

Whis sits beside me again. He rests his elbow on his thigh, propping his head up with a hand. “You do realize that I’m not at a disadvantage? I get to pet your tail weekly and provide you with my cooking,” he says, smiling at me. His confident smirk irks me. My tail thumps against the rocks, and I stop it when I notice it only amuses him further.

“Shut up. I’m the one making the demands.” I cross my arms and frown, still sweating from the training session. I tug at my shirt collar and shudder as the air hits my damp skin. From far away, it looks like Whis and I have wrapped up an intense physical training session, but the truth is too embarrassing for me to admit.

Whis grins, and there’s that knowing look in his eyes again, as if he can see right through me. “Very well. On the days we train, I shall make you breakfast in exchange for the honour of touching your fluffiness.” His hand reaches out to my tail, but Whis recoils almost immediately. He stands up and pats my head, praising me for my hard work. “I can’t wait to see you at our next session. In the meantime, do take care of yourself. You’ve been doing an excellent job, and I wish to continue seeing you in good health.”

And he leaves me there, still flushed and dazed. My tail tingles from his lingering warmth, and I can’t help but wonder what it would feel like for him to pet it again.

A few weeks go by quicker than expected, and I wake up to Whis cooking in my kitchen. He makes me a sandwich filled with eggs, bacon, lettuce, and tomatoes. As I munch on the food at the dining table, he watches with his hands propping up his chin. He smiles at every move I make, and I become aware of my tail swishing.

“I would say you’ve built enough tolerance. We can shift our focus to other areas,” Whis says, lifting a napkin to wipe my lips. His hand lingers before he pulls away and crumples the tissue into a ball, flashing me a smile.

I nod. “Thank you. My tail feels a lot stronger.” I glance over my shoulder, admiring the muscle I’ve gained. 

Whis’s eyes remain fixed on my tail. “Yes, it appears more voluminous than before,” he says, tapping his fingers against the table. 

I can’t help but laugh and bring my tail closer to him. “You can touch it if you want. Just let me know in advance and I’ll let you pet it a little,” I say. “Consider it an exclusive benefit for helping.”

Whis reaches over and strokes the fur, eyes gleaming. “Marvelous,” he whispers in a breathless tone. Not once does he grab it, only touching my tail with gentle pets. His cheeks flush a light pink as he beams at me. “Thank you,” he says. 

I coil my tail around his wrist and hand. “You can touch me more. I’m not as sensitive now.”

“Pardon?” Whis stares at me with wide eyes. His skin almost looks purple and his hand starts to feel clammy against my tail. 

I hope he’s not getting sick. Can angels even catch illnesses? “My tail. You’re always so intrigued by it. Thanks to the training I can even handle a few harsh tugs now,” I say. 

Whis blinks owlishly before nodding and sinking bonelessly into his seat. “Right—of course. I’m honoured to be granted such a privilege.”

Maybe training three Saiyans is taking a toll on him? Come to think of it, I haven’t done much else to show my gratitude. “Do you want to stay for lunch?” I ask.

Whis sits up straight and grins. “I would love to.”

“Great!” I unwrap my tail and stand up, heading to the kitchen. “I’ll make something you haven’t had yet.” 

Whis follows close behind, and despite his persistent questions, I refuse to answer any of them, laughing at his sulking figure.

END NOTE:

When I tell you I gasped when that last misunderstanding popped into my brain, I was shook

I'll see you guys at my next hyperfixation! (。・∀・)ノ

Taglist: @lovecats123451

[wandering-winchesters]

Not yourself

Pairing: Dean x Reader Word Count: 2,203 Summary: The reader has been feeling off, ever since a nasty encounter with a demon. Trigger Warnings: Panic attack, self hatred, swearing. Mostly fluff. Requested: No

A/N: Requests are open! I really hope you enjoy this, my anxiety has been bad recently so writing about the things that bring me comfort has helped.

Masterlist

Ever since Dean and I had started dating, some days were easier than others. When the voices in my head were quieter. The anxiety coursing through my body was not as strong. I didn’t feel jittery, I could focus on the tasks at hand and not want to spend all day in bed. Yet there were still bad days and today was one of them. Today, I was miserable. Anxiety tearing my every thought to shreds, making every task seem insurmountable. Instead of coming out as fear and sadness however, it was displayed as anger. Every little thing was pissing me off, breaking a plate, spilling my coffee and Dean making the wrong joke. All of these ended in outbursts of swear words coming from me. I couldn’t handle it today and the boys could tell. They’d both given me my space since the coffee incident, making up excuses to dismiss themselves to different rooms of the bunker. I didn’t blame them, if they were acting like me, I’d get it. I’d do the same thing. But that didn’t make handling my anxiety today any easier, not that it was their job to fix me, but they certainly helped. Some Days it was just easier to be mad at the world, instead of facing the real problem. The last couple of weeks had been miserable, but I had been trying my best to keep it internalized. 

Ever since the last hunt I had been on, two weeks ago, my thoughts had been hell on earth. It had been a difficult hunt from the get-go. What we thought was a vengeful spirit turned out to be a Demon. It had cornered me, separating me from the boys, even though they fought like wildfire to get to me, they couldn’t until the demon let them in. He had read my innermost thoughts, using them to get to me. He had taken all of my worst fears and brought them to life. All of the negative thoughts I had ever had about myself, something he voiced to me. Reaffirming them to be true. Sam and Dean didn’t need me, I was a burden, they were better off without me. My parents never wanted me, I was a mistake, I was worthless. Dean didn’t love me, he was with me out of pity. All of his words cut me like a knife, my soul in pieces before him. I had fallen for his tricks and he almost took me. I didn’t realize I had been screaming, until Sam and Dean finally entered the room, ensnaring him in the trap that they had set, and exorcising him. I remained in the corner of the room, helpless and useless. Dean had run to my side, the second we were safe. His arms becoming my safety net, yet I hated every second of it. The demons words repeating within my mind, over and over again. I had begun to shut them out, figuring that if they truly hated me, it wouldn’t matter. They wouldn’t notice until it was too late and I could slip away without any difficulty. I stopped going on hunts with them, making up excuses each time they asked. I could tell by the looks that they gave me that they weren’t convinced, but they didn’t push me. 

I am snapped from my thoughts by the clatter and splash of water, following me knocking over my cup of water. 

“Fucking hell,” I mumble, quickly wiping up the water I had just spilled all over the book of lore that I was studying.

“I don’t think hell has anything to do with that, Y/N.” Dean says, when I glance over at him he’s got a soft smile on his face, concern also imminent in his features. I don’t answer, focusing back on the mess that I needed to clean up. He offers help, but I decline. Already using the I had grabbed, to wipe up what water I could before laying the book flat to dry. I can feel Dean’s eyes on me the entire time, waiting and watching, for what I’m not sure.  

I’m about to brush past him into the hallway when he stops me, his hand gently grabbing my wrist. 

“Hey.” He says, turning to face me. “What’s going on in that head of yours? It’s obvious that you’re not doing too hot.” His voice is soft, his face shows concern and all that does is make me angrier.

“You haven’t seemed like yourself recently.” He continued, his eyes pleading with me to open up and let him in. Yet, I knew that if I stopped and talked about it, I would break down. I simply didn’t have the mental energy for that right now, so remaining angry was the only way I could handle things right now. I brushed him off, muttering a quick I’m fine and walked away heading towards our shared bedroom. I stopped in front of the door and debated going inside, but decided I’d rather be alone. So I continued down the hall to the room that used to me mine, I locked the door behind me and press my back to the wall. For the first time today I’m surrounded by complete silence. No music, no talking, nothing at all, yet the silence is overwhelming. I can feel the anger creeping away and sadness and anxiety washing over the empty spaces it leaves behind. 

I close my eyes, embracing the wave as it comes. I can feel the panic building inside of me making it more difficult to breathe or think. I find myself sliding down to the ground, my feet planted in front of me, my back pressed flush to the wall behind me. My head is spinning, thoughts screaming past like a car on a racetrack, circling around and around, unescapable. I can feel tears forming, hot and heavy, streaming down my face. I rest my elbows on my knees and cradle my head in my hands. Praying that this doesn’t turn into a full blown panic attack, but all the signs are pointing that way. I am so focused on trying to control my breathing and silence the sobs that are leaving my throat, that I am completely blind to my surroundings. Which is how I missed Dean knocking on the door, panicking when he tries the door knob and finds it locked. I don’t hear his threat to break it down if I don’t open the door. I don’t hear him follow through with his promise. I don’t realize he’s there, until his hands are pulling my own away from my face, his lips moving but his voice silent to me. I look at him confused, unsure how he got to be sitting criss-cross in front of me, pulling at my body. Slowly, ever so slowly, I can hear his words breaking through the roaring of the waves within my head. 

“Y/N, you’ve got to breath, baby. C’mon, with me, copy me.” He says, his eyes frantic but his tone calm. His hands cradling my own, resting one against his chest so I can feel it rising and falling. I take a shaky breath, my lungs screaming in protest, pure agony. They feel constricted, like someone is squeezing them to exhale while I try to force an inhale. 

“Can’t.” I choke out, my throat on fire. I am trembling, the kind of shaking that changes the way you speak, uncontrollable and inconsolable. Dean takes another look at me and without asking, he pulls me into his lap. My legs crossed behind his back, my thighs on his hips. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull myself into him as much as I possibly can, desperate for relief. His arms are wrapped around me, his hand finding my hair and rubbing his fingers against my scalp. His touch soft and calming, his voice echoing the same sentiment. Our chests are pressed together, forcing me to copy his breathing pattern, which is ever so slowly calming me down. I finally manage to take a full breath and almost sob in relief. I can feel Dean relax against me slightly, his concern lessening as my ability to breathe normally returns. 

“You’re okay, I’ve got you. I’m here sweetheart, I’m not going anywhere.” His words hit me hard, I want them so badly to be true, but I can’t bring myself to believe them. We sit in silence for awhile, our bodies intertwined. I don’t dare to break the silence, not really wanting to explain the reasoning behind my actions today. I know he is going to ask, he’ll want an explanation and I can’t blame him for that. I just don’t really want to give him one. He pulls back slightly, just enough so he can see my face. He wipes away the tears on my cheeks, his eyes searching my own for any non verbal explanation, but I look down at the floor not wanting to make eye-contact with him. 

“Baby, please. What’s going on? Please let me in.” He whispers, his voice tugging at my heart, he sounds almost broken. I sit silently for a minute, anxiety bubbling up within me once more. I close my eyes and consider the options before me, I can lie to him, or tell him everything. I choose the latter, my voice speaking before my brain can even process what’s happening. 

“That demon, the last hunt I went on. He got inside my head, he took all of my darkest thoughts and fears and put them on display before me. He affirmed all of my biggest fears.” I said, brushing away the tears that had begun to form again, unwilling to appear any weaker in front of him, any weaker than I had moments before. 

“What fears, baby girl?” He asks, his eyes still trained on me, watching my every action. 

“That you and Sam hate me and think I am a burden. He told me that you didn’t really love me, that you were only with me out of pity. He told me that I really was worthless, and that everything he said was true and that he had read your thoughts.” My voice fails me and tears begin to fall again. Dean is quick to respond, his hand comes up to cup my cheek and I immediately lean into his touch. He presses a kiss to my lips, strong and meaningful. It isn’t until I look up at him, that I realize he has tears in his eyes. 

“Sweetheart, that couldn’t be further from the truth. I love you, I don’t pity you. Sam and I don’t hate you and you are the furthest thing from a burden. You’ve been carrying this around for the last two weeks?” He asks, and all I can do is nod. I sniffle and he sighs, resting his forehead against my own. 

“Y/N, next time you’re having these thoughts please just tell me, baby. It breaks my heart to know that you’ve been carrying this around for the last couple of weeks, no wonder you’ve been distant.” I am a little taken aback at his words, honestly believing that he hadn’t noticed a difference. 

“You noticed?” I ask, trying to hide the surprise in my tone but he notices immediately. 

“Of course I did, Y/N. Believe it or not, I know you like the back of my hand. I didn’t want to push you, but it was tearing me to pieces because you wouldn’t tell me what was bothering you. I just wanted to help you.” He says, pressing kiss to my cheek, soft and gentle. I lean into him once again, resting my head on his shoulder and inhaling deeply. My body is exhausted, from lack of sleep and the panic attack that had surged earlier. 

“I love you, De. I am so tired.” I whisper, relishing the peace that has replaced my inner turmoil. I can feel him relax against me, his hands rubbing gentle circles in my back. 

“I love you more, Y/N. Wanna go watch a movie in bed and snuggle?” He asks and I nod, my arms squeezing him tighter.

“But only if you carry me, Winchester.” He laughs, but silently agrees. 

Thats exactly what we do, he carries me to our room and sets me gently on our bed. He tosses me a pair of his sweatpants and one of his flannels, knowing I am most comfortable when wearing his clothes. I pull them on, while he grabs his laptop and gets situated in bed next to me. We jokingly bicker about what movie to watch before he points out that the whole point of this is for me to fall asleep while watching, I concede and he puts on some action movie. I don’t complain however, knowing that it will keep him entertained while I sleep. He pulls me against his side and I intertwine my legs with his, resting my head on his chest. My arm wrapping around his middle and completely sinking into his embrace. I let my eyes flutter closed, my senses overwhelmed by his presence in the best way possible. 

[deathofmars]

౨ৎAbout me

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"I thought biking really fast through the rain would dry me as I go but turns out it soaks me faster."

Names; Serpent, strawberry, Abby's luvr. ☆

8teen, crystal collecter, she/they/theirs, lesbian. ☆

I love tlou, ddlc, plague tale and dead plate.☆

My favorite artists; melanie martinez, type o negative, metallica, deftones, elita, zheani, mitski, isabel larosa, eyedress, laufey, alec benjamin, conan gray, coco & clair clair, pinkpantheress, steve lacy, jazmin bean. ☆

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Abby masterlist;Author!abby x fem!reader hcs!♡

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[onceuponatown]

New Orleans ca. 1890-1900.

[topguncortez]

Day 15: Emotional Damage ➢prompt: new scars ➢character: Nick "Goose" Bradshaw ➢warnings: mentions of the crash, scars, PTSD, description of injuries ➢word count: 1.1k

|| masterlist || whumptober || whumptober masterlist || library page ||

There was a thin layer of sweat over his body as he tossed and turned. He couldn’t shut his mind off, the constant loop of what happened that fateful day in the sky. Goose tried to shake himself out of it, shaking his head as quiet whimpers left his mouth. 

“We’re going down Mav!”

“Goose, I can’t control it!” 

“We’re going to burn in!” 

“Eject! Goose, eject!” 

Goose shot up with a start, panting heavily. His eyes took a few seconds to adjust to the darkness of the bedroom. He felt tears running down his cheeks at the memory of that day. Even though it had been nearly six months ago, it still felt like it happened yesterday. He winced as he put a hand to the side of his face, his fingers running down the jagged skin. He looked over at his wife, Y/N, who was still fast asleep. Goose took a deep breath, before carefully getting out of bed. He walked down the hallway to the bathroom, stopping to peak in on Bradley for a second. He flicked on the light, and looked at the curtain covering the bathroom mirror. 

Goose had somehow managed to survive the crash. He hit his head hard on the canopy, causing him to crack his head open, and break his eye socket. They had to do surgery to fix it, he had a metal plate inserted in his face to fix the socket. The doctors did the best they could to make sure there was minimal scarring, but he had two jagged scars that ran down the side of his face. The first time Goose had ever seen himself in the mirror, he grew angry and punched the mirror in the bathroom of his hospital room. Y/N had gone home after that and covered all the mirrors, and Goose never said anything about it. 

He turned the faucet on, running some cool water, before splashing it on his overheated skin. Y/N turned in her bed, reaching out for her husband, but sat up realizing he wasn’t next to her. She looked around the room, and noticed their bedroom door was open. She rubbed her eyes as she swung her legs over the side of the bed, grabbing her robe, and heading to go find him. Y/N frowned seeing the light on from under the bathroom door. She knocked softly on the door, resting her hand on it, waiting for Goose to open it. 

“Come in,” He said softly, and Y/N pushed the door open. He was staring at the curtain covering the mirror. 

“You okay?” Y/N asked, shutting the door behind her. 

“Nightmare,” He said, and looked back down at the running water over his hands, “Thought the doc said these new meds were supposed to help with that shit. I’m sleeping more, but I get more nightmares because of it.” 

“He said they’d help you sleep, nothing about the nightmares. Have you told Doctor Carver about the nightmares?” Goose winced at the mention of his therapist. The navy had him going to see a therapist to help with the PTSD from the accident. It wasn’t that Goose hated Doctor Carver, it was that he hated the idea of therapy in general. Growing up, he was always told that therapy was a negative thing, you only go if you’re crazy or cheating on your spouse. He refused to go at first, but after one particular bad nightmare where he woke up in complete terror and had lashed out at Y/N, he knew he had to go. 

“I told him, he said it’s just something I have to work through,” Goose sighed and turned the water off, grabbing the hand towel and drying his hands. His brown eyes looked back up at the curtain, “You never said why you hung all these curtains up?” 

“Oh,” Y/N said, and looked down at her bare feet, “I just thought. . . you know vanity is such a vain thing sometimes. I realized I was spending a lot of time looking at-” Y/N jumped as Goose reached up and pulled the curtain down with a loud thud. She prepared for him to grow angry and lash out at the mirror again, but instead, he just stared at himself, “Goose?” 

He didn’t say anything as he just looked at himself, looked at the scars that sat on his face. He remembered what his mother said when she came to visit after the accident: 

“That’s a face a mother will never forget.” 

But Goose wanted to forget about this face. He always thought of himself as a handsome person. He had gotten girls in high school and at the academy. Hot girls, girls who deserved to be on the cover of playboy or on billboards. Goose could remember all the comments he had gotten when he would go to the beach during tech school. All comments on how good looking he was. But looking at himself now in the mirror, he felt ugly. The scars on his once handsome face made him feel ugly. 

“I hate myself,” Goose said, and Y/N looked up at him, “I hate this!” He yelled. 

“Why?” Y/N asked. 

“Look at my fucking face, Y/N!” He pointed at the scars. 

“I am, Nick. I look at your face every single day,” She pushed herself away from the door, and grabbed his face in her hands. He closed her eyes as she gently ran her fingers over his scars, “And I still see that handsome man I met at that cafe in Maryland. I see the man who sang a Ray Charles song very loudly in the middle of a bar to ask me out. I see the man who proposed to me and dropped the ring down the sewer. I see the man who gave me the most beautiful child I could ask for. I see the man who survived, and came back to us alive.” 

“I am not the same-” 

“You are,” Y/N said, cutting him off, “You are still Nicholas James Bradshaw. You are still my Goose. I don’t care how you look. I didn’t marry you because you have a pretty face. I married you because you have a beautiful heart.” 

Goose let out a sob, and Y/N pulled him into his arms. She shushed him and rubbed his back as he cried. Y/N lifted his face from her shoulder, and looked at him. She leaned up and placed a kiss on both the scars on his face, before kissing his lips. 

“You will always be perfect to me.”

[bumpkinspice0]

Recovery Time: Chapter 2

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

No use of y/n

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 2362

Summary: Mystery Man is up and it's time to establish some boundaries if you're going to continue to help him. Whether he follows them or not, that's up to him.

Warnings: ANGST, Very negative self talk from Joel, stubborn Joel be stubborn, thinking about past trama

Series Masterlist

Previous - Next

AO3

_______________

Chapter 2: Recovery Time

He hasn’t said anything, not that he struck you as a talkative man. Every time you check on him he’s still out cold. It’s been just over a day. 

He must be moving, though. You left a plate of dried venison and green beans on the nightstand before bed that night and it was licked clean in the morning. Gus paces the hallway outside the door, keeping a watchful eye. You were right, he didn’t like a stranger being in the house.

“Easy boy,” You scratch between his ears as you pass by, “It’s only for a bit. Then you can sleep in the bed again.”

You wonder where he came from. If he was traveling into the QZ or running from it. That’s where everyone who passed near here was heading. Boston was over 25 miles away from here. The closest road leading into Boston was over 10 miles away, too far to just get lost in your neck of the woods. Was he looking for something? Someone? Or maybe he really was just that lost. For some reason, you doubt that looking at him. His gear and scars suggest a well-traveled man. A man who's seen it all. A survivor. You desperately wanted to know more about him.

As much as you loved lingering around the house all day like a clingy child, you still had responsibilities. 

Without a deer to skin and process— Like you planned to today— you tend to the remaining vegetables in the garden. One more row of carrots and tomatoes to harvest then the squash will be ready in a few weeks. The rain was generous to you this summer. Your pantry shed and dry storage are full for the first time in a long time.

You weren’t good at gardening before everything. You had a few houseplants you didn’t kill, but that was about it. You got good at it because you had to. The Massachusetts woods didn’t have much to offer other than game hunting. 

You learned through trade. Medical services for seeds and growing tips. It was all easier to come by back then. Your single year as a nurse before the outbreak was better than nothing to most people. They came to you for help with payments of supplies or services. You never turned anyone away, even if they were empty-handed.

Now only you were left.

Funny how you got more experience in your field after the world ended. That and you learned whatever you could squeeze out of Art when he was willing to teach you. He was a top surgeon for 20 years turned small town doctor, he knew things you’d never find in a book. You’d traded with him for what he had to offer as well, you suppose. A friendship was formed out of necessity there. 

You hoped he’d like what you’d made of his cabin. His home was now almost unrecognizable from what it had been— but in a good way. You just hear his gruff voice say “Well, that’s different.” In the most endearing way he could manage. 

Growing things had a rough learning curve but eventually, you had a full, well-maintained garden. You like to think you had a good rhythm going for your whole property. When the people around you dried up, you had little else to focus on. You’d made yourself a home out of your friend's old hunting cabin— a good one.

You’re checking the rain barrels when you hear a shift inside. Gus, who’d been perfectly content napping on the porch, snaps to attention.

Mystery Man is up and moving. 

You walk inside to see him seated struggling to get his boots back on. He’d found the spare clothes you’d left him. 

“What do you think you're doing?” you ask, dumbfounded. He couldn’t even walk a day ago- not that whatever he was doing now could really be considered walking either.

“I’m heading out,” He grunts, re-lacing his right boot. He’s removed the bandages and splints from his ankle. There’s no way that boot’s going to fit on that swollen-ass foot. “Thank you… for the hospitality.”

His movements are weak and clumsy. You’re amazed he’s even fully continuous right now. 

“I don’t think you’re in much shape to go anywhere,” you stand in front of him crossing your arms, “You have a serious sprain, trauma all over your body, and have lost a stupid amount of blood.”

“I’ve had worse.”

You believe him. That still didn’t help things. 

“You’re not gonna make it 10 feet out there.”

“Watch me,” He says, forcing his boot over his injured foot. You grimace in sympathy at the look on his face. A look of pure pain. Surely he can’t be serious? No-- No this was just more fight or flight acting up.

He stands, putting all his weight on his good leg. He’s big. Somehow broader when he’s standing.

You see the sweat plastering his brow from the effort. His eyes are glazed over. He’s delusional— very likely in shock. The gravity of the situation has settled in and he’s panicking still.

“Just hold— I’m offering you food and shelter.” You try to reason.

“I g-gotta get back.”

“To where?”

“The QZ.”

“In Boston? That’s over 20 miles away.”

So he was from the QZ after all.

He doesn’t seem phased by this information at all. You don’t want to fight him to get back into bed and he can’t be properly reasoned with in this state… so you take a gamble. The only way to show him how stupid he’s being is to just let him try. 

“If you want to go out there and die then be my guest.” You step aside, “Your ammo is in the first kitchen drawer to the right. I'll point you in the right direction outside.”

He looks at you for a moment, slightly shocked you’re suddenly being so passive. Still, he takes the opportunity. He takes a single clumsy step, grasping onto a nearby table for support. You step out of the room and he goes through the doorway. He makes it 3 steps down the hallway before collapsing— again. Still, about a step further than his first attempt the other day. Progress is progress you suppose.

“Stupid man,” You grumble before helping him up. 

“I gotta get back.” He mumbles but doesn’t fight you as you limp him back to the bed. He’s grasping at the edges of his consciousness by the time you get his head back on the pillow.

“Rest a little more then we’ll talk.”

“No, I—” He groans before his head falls limp on the pillow.

You wonder if you’ll have to do this all over again in a few hours.

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

There was only pain. Blinding white hot pain. The kind someone could never get used to, yet Joel thinks he should be by now. It was practically a daily occurrence at this point. It wasn’t just pain this time though, he felt weak. Constantly tired, just grasping to stay awake for more than a handful of minutes. Blood loss, dehydration— getting his ass handed to him. All factors that landed him in this new prison inside his own body. 

Everything hurts. Every goddamn inch of him. 

It was stupid of him to go out alone, he knew that and went anyway. He went looking for trouble— for blood. His only outlet these days.

Tommy was leaving. His own brother cursed his name, spat in his face, and said he was leaving to go try save the world again. Idiot.

“I never want to see you again.” Tommy’s exact last words to him. Not that they saw much of each other anyway, Tommy could hardly look at him. Still, it stung. Joel didn’t blame him and did his best to respect his brother's wishes. But even in doing so, the feelings of betrayal festered inside him like a disease.

So instead of just simply trying to talk to his brother— he went out to look for a fight. Didn’t tell anyone he was going, he just left.

Raiders willing to trade bullets for almost anything. A two-day walk from Boston. He got a day into his journey when the regret seeped in. Tommy left in two days. If he turned around there he could make it back and maybe see his brother off. Say he’s sorry for everything. Sorry for what he’d put him through.

Convince him to stay.

The raiders found him first. He was surrounded by at least a dozen. The next thing he remembers he was covered in blood that wasn't just his and dead bodies with pain stabbing into every nerve ending. Barely able to walk, still he pressed on. Tess or Tommy couldn’t save him this time. He was on his own.

And now he was here. Trapped in a stranger's bed, barely able to move. In a way he’s grateful, in another way he wished he’d been left to die. Then at least he wouldn’t have to live with the knowledge that his only family left in the world hated him. He even tried for something with Tess and decided to just keep it business. Another person who couldn’t love him. 

He tried to run from it all again, and he failed. 

Instead, he’s stuck here. Stuck here with his thoughts.

-----------

It’s almost nightfall when you enter the room again. 

“Mister?” You crack the door open, a candle in one hand and a plate of food in the other. He shifts in the bed, clearly awake, “I brought you something to eat. And a change of bandages when you’re done.”

He turns to face you at that, his face more lucid than his afternoon. Good. 

You take a seat next to the bed and he slowly sits up, face wincing in pain at the movement. Well, at least he’s being more careful. You hand him the plate—rabbit with potatoes and green beans. 

You introduced yourself again and he barely acknowledges your name, graciously accepting the plate without eye contact.

 “Why are you doing all this?” He asks weakly. 

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” You simply answer. This man wasn’t used to being shown kindness. That’s fine, you’ll still give it anyway. Still, it brings up a question. Something you want to clarify, “You’re… not going to hurt me, are you?”

His stern expression doesn’t move, but something in his eyes almost looks… offended maybe? Contemplating?

“No.”

He picks up the fork and starts eating. You let him get a few bites in before you ask. 

“Why did you want to get back to the QZ so badly today?”

He pauses, eyes focusing as if trying to recall the memory from just a few hours ago. 

“What day is it, do you know?” He asks. 

“September 16th.”

“Damn it,” he mumbles to himself, dropping his head. 

“What?” You’re suddenly very curious about his life.

“Nothin’,” he mumbles, stabbing another potato onto his fork, “I just… had to see someone.”

“Who?”

“Brother,” He answers dryly, “Shipped out today.”

“Is that who Tommy is?”

He pauses mid-chew, head still down. You fear you’ve offended him somehow.

“Yes.” He says it so softly you almost miss it.

“I’m sorry you missed him.” When you say it he gives you an almost annoyed look. A look that says you don’t fucking know me, lady . Fair enough. You choose to push this conversation in a more productive direction, “Can you tell me what happened to you?”

He pauses again, taking a particularly long time to chew on a piece of meat. Again, he’s debating on whether to tell you anything. 

“If I know more, maybe I can help more,” you encourage him, even though there’s probably not much else you could do. 

He sighs, “Trade deal went sour. They ambushed me. Barely got out.”

A man of few words and unhelpful explanations. Fantastic. 

“How many were there?” You ask.

“None, now.” The unspoken words ring loud in his statement. I killed them all. It makes you a little tense but there wasn’t any threatening tone in his voice. He’s just stating a fact. Killed or be killed, that’s how so much of the world out there is. 

And honestly, you’re a little relieved that there’s no one tracking him. It was a small anxiety in the back of your mind the last few days. You’ll light the stove tonight and sleep in an actually warm house. 

He’s finished his plate, gaze looking down at the bed sheet, refusing to face you. The dark shadows of the candle caressed over the plains of his face, deepening his stern features. He looked… sad. So sad. He’d missed something important because of this injury. Seeing his brother off. If his brother was FEDRA or a Firefly there was a possibility of never seeing him again— stationed somewhere across the country. Somewhere you couldn’t just walk to. 

When anyone leaves now there’s always a possibility of never seeing them again though, even if they’re in a gun-toting convoy.

You don’t want to push the topic. Instead, you just take his plate from him and stand. 

“If you’re gonna be here then there’s some rules, okay?” 

He actually bothers to look up to you before you continue.

 “No weight on the foot for at least a week. If you wanna walk anywhere you use crutches, I have a pair. The bathroom’s across the hall, use it freely except for the shower. That’s cut down to once a week. Let me know when you want to use it and I’ll dress your wounds accordingly. No leaving the immediate area without me, not that you’ll go far.” You say the last sentence in a joking way. He doesn’t laugh, “You want anything, you ask me. You fight me on anything regarding your recovery, and you’re out.”

“This is sounding more like a hostage situation,” He grunts.

“For a captor I think I've been doing a good job keeping you alive and safe, but by all means leave if you like,” You inform in the nicest way you can manage while still sounding threatening, “Feel free to test your chances out there.”

He looks down again, scoffing. 

“What’s the recovery time on this?” he mumbles.

“Up to 6 weeks.” you bluntly answer, “Probably less if you do what I say.”

“Then I’ll be out of here in 2.”

You completely doubt that.

[him-x-her]

Vee is For Vampires - Chapter 7: The Moon and the Stars

Author: @sinnysioux

AO3: SinnySioux

Vamp!Ville x f!reader

Warnings: Definite smut. 18+

Read on AO3

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It’s been a couple of months or so. I ended my tenancy on the flat and moved in with Ville. I left my job and I am truly thriving, not being held down by a shitty 9-5 that I don’t enjoy. The Haunted Mansion no longer feels like Ville’s home, but our home. There are home cooked meals in the fridge, fresh flowers in every room, wax melts and scents, and the occasional pair of lace panties on the bedroom floor. I spend a lot of the day sleeping, as I am up in the night with Ville. When I’m not sleeping, I am perfecting my Finnish on Duo Lingo; I am confident I can hold a conversation with Ville’s family when it is time to meet them. I also use Google Translate for the occasional smutty and specific sexual demand, which drives Ville wild every time. I am no longer uneasy around blood as I use it in cooking; Ville and I get to have romantic meals together in his dining room. The dining room is a place we have christened several times with our lovemaking, because why wait? The pool room, the bathroom, the garden grounds. I am just as taken by him (and just as thirsty) as I was from the moment I met him, and he spends every minute telling me how much he loves me. Life honestly feels great.

I wake up at 5pm, earlier than usual, feeling like a sack of shit. I perambulate to the bathroom and take a look at myself in the mirror. I am pale, far more pale than usual. There are dark circles around my eyes. My skin is sunken and dry. Ville and I had sex last night; explosive, passionate sex. I had let him drink from me, as I often do now, but I have never felt like this before. Perhaps I am low on iron? Anaemic? That would explain a lot. I make a mental note to talk to my vampire boyfriend about slowing down on the bloodsucking. I look down at the sink and heave. Suddenly, I am sick, and vomit a disgusting green liquid into the sink bowl. Bile, but no actual food. I shake a little and feel faint. Perhaps I need to eat something.

I descend the staircase and find Mari cleaning the kitchen. “KRISTUS KAIKKIVALTIAS! You look terrible!” She gasps upon my entry. I’m wearing Ville’s shirt and underwear again. There have been moments where I have contemplated giving up lace panties forever in favour of his damned comfortable boxers, but gorgeous lingerie is often part of the foreplay.

“Cheers, Mari…” I mutter, feeling even more like shit.

“I’m sorry, sweetie, you are just too pale! Let me get you something to eat.” She offers me a multitude of fancy breakfasts but my stomach turns at the mention of them. In the end I agree to toast and a glass of orange juice, as the mere mention of tea has me heaving. How strange; there is little that rivals my love for tea. Perhaps I have a stomach bug. I eat half of my toast, make excuses and settle for a warm soak. The lavender bath salts seem to ease my stomach and relax me. I style my hair, throw a dress on, put on some light makeup and feel well again.

I arrange plates and cutlery on the dining table. Being too sick to cook today, I reheat a beef and red wine stew I made two days ago. I add a bit of blood to Ville’s portion followed by a bit of cornflour to thicken it up. As I am placing the plates on the table, Ville walks in.

I breathe slowly, taking in his tight leather jeans, and the delicious part where his legs meet and the fabric stretches to contain him. I take in the pale strip of his stomach on display with a little flash of his pelvic heartagram tattoo. I follow the hem of his shirt up; a Type O Negative shirt with two topless women embracing and making their ‘O’ faces. I feel a little twinge between my legs thinking about Ville’s O face. My eyes follow the milky skin along his neck, over his Adams apple, to his jawline, carved by the gods. Those plump pink lips, slender nose, cheekbones, and shining twinkling eyes of gardenia. I am lost in him and in awe of his beauty. “Good evening, Rakkaani.” He pads forward and kisses the top of my head. We sit opposite each other and Ville eats hungrily. I eat a couple of bits of beef, but again find that I don’t really feel hungry. I use my cutlery to play with the food on my plate; trying to give him the impression that I am eating, but he picks up on my behaviour quickly. I tell him I don’t feel hungry and he doesn’t pry further. When he has eaten, I spontaneously stand and place my palms on the table. My knees follow and I crawl to him like a feline stalking her prey. He looks surprised as I lean forward to aggressively bite his bottom lip.

“Ouch!” He snaps. I dig my nails into his shoulders and move to bite his neck, suddenly overcome with lust. “Fuck, baby, stop!” He commands and pushes me to arms length.

“Don’t you want me?” I purr, reaching one hand down to stroke the length of his cock through his tight jeans whilst the other fumbles with his belt.

He grabs my wrist, “No. Not here.” He whispers, angrily.

“What’s the matter, baby? I know you want me-“, I sing.

He holds my shoulders at arms’ length. “This isn’t like you, what’s going on? You’re being aggressive…”

Feeling utterly rejected, I flinch, swing my legs to the side and climb off of the table. Tears start to well in the corners of my eyes. “Just tell me you don’t love me.” I say indignantly, knowing that I am being unfair to him, unable to look up from the floor. He slams his fist on the table in frustration and I jump.

“Don’t… don’t fucking question my love for you. It’s not fair…”. The tears roll out of my eyes and down to the floor, and I start to shake. I am scared to look at him. “I didn’t mean to-“ he gets up immediately trying to make amends for his outburst, “I’m sorry…”. He takes a step towards me and I step back.

“It’s fine. I need to go-“, my voice breaks as I turn to leave and run up the staircase. I make it to Ville’s room, throw myself on his bed and break down. My face buried in his pillow; my tears dampening his bed linen. He has never shouted at me like this before, but I am more so hurt by the rejection. The fear that he will wake up, realise I am nothing special, and discard me like a bloodless body. I cry harder.

I feel the bed creak and lower, and an arm wrap around me. My body stiffens but Ville kisses my shoulders, my arms. “I’m sorry… you didn’t deserve that”.

Through my tears, I sigh, “You were right, I wasn’t being myself.” I say solemnly.

“Even so, I should never have shouted at you. It just… I feel like I need to explain why I got so angry. Will you please look at me?” I roll over apprehensively to meet his eyes, ever beautiful and green. I kick myself for crying, and imagine I look like a puffy pink mess. He wipes at my tears with his thumbs as he cradles my face. “Come… sit up.”

Begrudgingly, I allow him to pull me up, and sit with my back against the headboard. He puts his hands in my lap, palms up, and I put my hands in his. His thumbs run reassuring circles over my knuckles. He takes a deep breath and launches into his explanation. “I had an ex girlfriend who used to accuse me of not loving her every time she didn’t get her way. She would use it as a weapon to get me to do things that I didn’t want to do. If I didn’t want to go to a party with her friends, she would say it was because I didn’t love her. If I didn’t want to get blackout drunk with her, I didn’t love her. It was exhausting.” He reminisces, sadly.

“I’m not her…” I whisper without looking up from our hands.

“No”, agrees Ville, “You’re not. You’re kind, and thoughtful, and funny…” he kisses my hands “…and I will love you throughout this life and the next.” I look up and smile weakly, and start to feel faint. I can feel bile rising from my stomach and bolt to the bathroom. Ville follows and holds my hair back as I retch over the sink, and helps me back to the bedroom when I am done.

“You didn’t eat at dinner”, he says, more observant than I give him credit for. “You need to eat something to settle your stomach.”

I sigh, “I know, I just don’t really feel myself. The thought of food alone makes me feel sick-“.

“Then we’ll get you to a doctor.” Ville interjects. “I have a private doctor who could probably fit us in tomorrow evening…” he says, standing.

“No, Ville, it’s fine. I’m still registered with my old doctor. I’ll go there tomorrow morning. That way I’ll get seen quicker.” I decide.

“You’re sure?” Ville says, brows furrowed, looking concerned.

“Yes”, I say, but he doesn’t seem convinced. “I’m sorry I was… aggressive… my mood has been a little bit all over the place the last two days… it’s probably a hormone imbalance or something.”

He lies facing me and strokes my hair, “You seem so sad. What is upsetting you? Please let me take it away.”

I breathe deeply. “Ville… I love you… but I don’t have a life outside of you, and that is… well, it’s frightening. I don’t exist outside of you, and if one day you feel like it’s not working out, I will lose everything. My best friend, my love, my home, my purpose; and I think a loss that great would kill me.” He holds my hands in his again and commands my gaze with his intensely calming eyes.

“I have never felt this way before, nor will I ever feel this way again. I am yours. Completely. Body and soul… assuming there is a soul there” he laughs briefly, “I won’t ever turn you away. In fact, it is I who fears losing you. I am terrified of you realising how much better you can do…” he blinks as if to halt tears. “…what can I do to fix this?” he begs.

I take a moment to establish what I want. “I want to go to Finland, Ville. I want to leave London. I want to travel, find purpose… it is not enough that we love each other. I need to begin to love myself again.”

He nods. “We will go to Finland”, he promises. I kiss him lightly on the cheek.

“Kiitos, rakkaani”, I say, thanking him.

He smiles. “Your pronunciation is really good, you’ll fit in with us Finns easily.” I smile back and drift out of consciousness.

…

When I awake it is seven in the morning and I continue to feel even more like death. I call the medical practice and ask to be seen today. They are hesitant as always, probably busy blah blah, but oblige when I describe my symptoms. I am relieved to get an appointment but also scared; what if it’s something bad? I get out of bed and trudge slowly to the bathroom. I still look pretty pale which really highlights the dark circles around my eyes. Great. I brush my teeth, floss, and have a quick body shower. I return to the bedroom to get dressed in one of Ville’s shirts and a pair of black skinny jeans. I walk downstairs slowly, preparing myself for Mari’s over concern.

Predictably, she is not afraid to tell me I look like shit. Damn these Finns and their brutal honesty. At least she offers breakfast. I ask her for something plain and she delivers with pancakes. They are a bit sweeter than expected but I surprise myself by eating three; it seems the lack of consistent food and vomiting has left my stomach empty and increased my appetite. I still don’t feel like drinking tea so I opt for warm water instead and thank Mari as always for her kind hospitality. I pack some essentials: phone, bank card, ID into a handbag, grab a jacket and stroll outside.

Sure enough, Elias is parked in the courtyard outside Ville’s home. I knock his window and he rolls it down.

“Are you… always here? Do you ever get a break?” I implore out of honest concern.

Elias laughs, “Usually whilst Ville is sleeping, where did you want to go Miss?” I feel guilty.

“I… um… could you take me to a park or something? With a cafe? I feel like fresh air and a walk would do me good.” Elias of course accepts the request, before opening my door for me. I opt to sit in front and tell him Ville and I are thinking of going to Finland. I try to pry about what Ville’s life in Finland is like. He seems uneasy, and gives me very little back. However, when I switch the conversation to Ville’s parents he brightens, reassuring me that they are very kind and accommodating people. That’s nice, at least.

He drops me off at a park with lots of greenery, a kids’ play area, some benches and a small cafe. He insists on waiting for me even though I tell him I might be a while. I walk into the cafe and it is quiet. There are a few older couples having afternoon tea. I smile politely and do my best to look like a mentally well person who has her shit together. I purchase a hot chocolate and a little cake, and sit outside. I hold the cardboard cup between my palms and sip my warm drink. Autumn is here and it is colder; this is actually great because it means that the nights are getting longer, which of course means more time with my love.

I watch children playing on swings and climbing frames in the playground, and smile. It would be nice to have children. Maybe this could be something to discuss once we are settled in Finland, assuming his parents like me.

My mind wanders thinking about how I can impress his parents… I don’t want them to think I’m some weirdo with a vampire fetish. Then again, Ville’s dad does run a sex shop… I’m sure he’s seen stranger things. I pop back into the cafe to order a simple coffee. Elias seems like a coffee guy. I head back to the car with my offering, which Elias gracefully accepts, before driving me to the medical surgery. He does so without asking me why. He’s a good guy: private; respectful.

I sit in the waiting room with one headphone in. My love is singing about being buried alive by love, whilst I nervously tap my fingers on my knees. The doctor calls me in and asks me what the problem is.

“Um… I’ve not been feeling myself lately. My appetite has reduced, I feel lethargic and weak. At first I thought it was a lack of vitamin D or iron or something, but I’ve been taking supplements. Oh, I’m, my mood has been a bit up and down and I’ve thrown up a few times…” she listens to my monologue patiently.

“Okay, and when was your last period?” Silence.

“Oh, um… I don’t know, er…” I think back to the last time I remember: Ville’s bloody fingers in the kitchen. “… a couple of months maybe? Is it hormones? Am I going through early menopause?”

The doctor’s lips purse and I can tell she is trying not to laugh, which makes me all the more stressed. “No, not at all. Miss, have you considered perhaps you might be pregnant?”

My heart beats fast and loud until it is the only thing I can hear. The thumping in my ears. I can see the doctor’s lips moving, but I cannot focus and I cannot hear a word. Pregnant? I start to feel faint again. The doctor hands me a plastic cup filled with water and some paper towels.

“When were you last sexually active?” she asks.

“Oh, I… um, the day before yesterday.” I admit, embarrassed. She hands me a rectangular package and explains what I need to do. I sit in the bathroom cubicle and pee on the stick. While the results are developing I try to breathe deeply and calmly, I try to distract myself with happy thoughts, thoughts of Finland. Nothing is working. I brave a look at the stick in my hand and see two lines.

Positive.

I am pregnant with Ville’s baby.

I burst into tears. I am in shock and disbelief, I am scared and not sure how to feel at all.

I return to the examination room with puffy eyes and show my doctor the stick. Tears start to roll out of my eyes again.

“Are you okay? How is the relationship with the father?” She asks.

“Great”, I smile through tears. “He’s gentle and he’s loving…” I stare wistfully out of the window.

“Does he want children?” She pries.

“More than anything”, I say, smiling, but continuing to avoid eye contact.

“And you… do you want children?” I turn to look at her, her brow furrowed in concern.

“Yes”, I smile, and continue to cry.

She gives me a hesitant hug to comfort me. “In that case… congratulations!” she smiles. I return her smile, sniffing and dabbing at my eyes with tissue. She prescribes me pregnancy vitamins and gives me advice regarding morning sickness. I am told that I must eat when I get up, to force the sickness away, and to stick to plain and tasteless foods when nauseous. I am given advice about activities to avoid when pregnant.

“You can still have sex, in fact it can help baby to move a little quicker when it is time for them to come out.” She laughs. I smile, and thank the heavens that sex is still on the table, because resisting Ville in his low rise jeans and “fuck me” tattoo is futile. I thank her for the emotional support and am told a midwife will be in touch.

The cold air on my skin is soothing when I step outside. I close my eyes for a moment and let the wind calm me. I walk down the path to Elias’ car and get in: I tell him I’d like to go home and we sit in complete silence. I spend the entire fifty minute journey inside my own head. I think about how Ville will take the news, what having a family will look like… and then I start to panic.

The baby is half vampire.

I shut my eyes and bite into my lips to keep the panic attack at bay. Elias thankfully doesn’t seem to notice. By the time he pulls into the courtyard, I realise the sun has just set and Ville will be awake. I thank Elias for his help today and walk hesitantly to the door. I unlock it and step inside. I can’t see or hear him so I head upstairs. My legs feel like they are made of lead and I again focus on steadying my breathing and taking the staircase step by step. Ville isn’t in his room and I breathe a sigh of relief. I kick off my Doc Martens and release my legs from their prison of skinny jeans.

In nothing but Ville’s KISS shirt and my underwear, I sit on his window ledge and stare out at the sky, wondering what to make of how suddenly and significantly my life has changed. I hear the click of the bedroom door and take a deep, steadying, breath. Here we go…

The lights are off; the moonlight glistens highlighting my silhouette, drawing Ville’s attention. My eyes are wide, my lips part. I am anxious but his presence calms me. His hair is an unruly ocean of waves. His green eyes hypnotic and reassuring and pure. Skinny jeans and some sort of band shirt, as usual. He sits on the window ledge, facing me.

“Good evening, rakkaani”, he leans in to kiss my forehead gently; the gentle smack of his parted lips warming me. “Did you see the doctor?” My lips part but I cannot speak, frightened of the weight of my words. I look up at him hesitantly and bite my lip so hard it begins to bleed. He leans in to lick my lip and places his hands gently on my shoulders.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” He whispers.

I take a long, drawn out breath. “Ville… I’m pregnant.”

His eyes widen, “W-what?” He gasps.

“We’re… w-we’re, um, we… we’re having a baby.” I say, barely audible. He stands and buries his face in his hands.

My heart sinks. He’s upset. He’s disappointed. He doesn’t believe me. He doesn’t want the baby. He’ll ask me to leave. He…

Ville falls to his knees before me, tears in his eyes. “I’m going to be a… dad?” His voice breaks. I nod eagerly, my own tears pouring out of my eyes and down my face, and join him on the floor. He grabs my waist and pulls me into his lap, my knees resting on his hips. He sobs into my chest. Taking a sobering breath he kisses me sweetly and presses his forehead to mine, our tears pooling at our chins and falling into our laps, like little diamonds falling from the sky.

“You have blessed me with the most wonderful gift. You are my everything, rakkaani, I can never repay you for all the love and light you have brought into my life.” He smiles through his tears.

I cup his face with my hands, wiping his little dewdrops with my thumbs, running them through the spikes of stubble. “YOU have blessed ME!” I tell him, grabbing his hand in mine and guiding it to my stomach.

He caresses my very small bump and chuckles, “Hi little one! It’s Daddy!” His grin is bright and infectious, and he giggles like an excited child. “Tell Mama she is perfect, and Daddy is going to marry her”. His eyes move to mine.

“W-what?” I whisper.

“Marry me, rakkaani, I can’t live without you. You are my purpose.” I smile shyly and lean forward…

“Baby says Daddy needs to do better than that. Mummy deserves a grand gesture.” I chide.

He laughs out loud, “Little Love, tell your mother the moon and the stars are hers soon enough.” We both giggle, giddy with excitement. “Now we really do have to go to Finland….” he smiles “…we have to tell my parents.”

I look down, nervous. “I hope they like me”, I whisper.

“How could they not?” He says reassuringly.

“Thanks… Daddy.” I tease.

His face changes and he looks at me sternly and seriously. “NEVER call me that during sex!” His grin returns and I laugh so hard I cry.

Graphics by @saradika-graphics

[robs-nerd-shiz]

Retrobrite Vapor Method

⚠️ Remember to always wear eye protection 🥽 and gloves 🧤 when working with hydrogen peroxide

ℹ️ Background Information

In the past I've used various Retrobrite methods to restore some of my yellowed plastics. I've used the original Retrobrite paste method successfully, even though it can cause streaks if you don't apply it evenly. I've also submerged items in hydrogen peroxide but that can take a lot of liquid and some plastics love to float. ⛵️

Over the years there have been advancements in the Retrobrite process. People have found out that you only really need 12% hydrogen peroxide and that heat can accelerate the process. 3% takes FOREVER.

When I found out of the new Retrobrite Vapor process I was excited to try it because it addressed some of my past negative experiences. 🤩

The new process involves you enclosing your plastics in an air tight container with some 12% hydrogen peroxide at the bottom of the container. The hydrogen peroxide will start to evaporate and cause condensation which evenly covers the plastics to quickly restore them. ♨

Seems promising! You don't need that much hydrogen peroxide and you don't have to worry about even coverage.

Keep on reading for my experience after the directions ⬇️

🔢 Directions

Get an air tight container that can fit your plastics, but doesn't have a lot of extra space. Note: You can still use a larger container but it'll take more hydrogen peroxide and longer to get started. The container needs to be air tight. My first run I used a container that only snapped closed instead of latched and after 18 hours nothing really happened

Disassemble and ✨ clean ✨ your plastics, remove any electronics. Any dirt could block the renewing process

Put your plastics in a container with something holding them off the bottom of the container like a smaller bowl or plate

Wearing gloves 🧤 and 🥽 eye protection, fill the bottom of the container with 12% hydrogen peroxide. Note: You don't need to completely fill the bottom, but have roughly enough for the size of your container. I used 1 cup for a 15L container and I was able to do multiple batches, so that may have even been too much

Seal and wait. ⏱️ The process can take a few hours to get started, but once you get started you can easily do multiple batches. The items won't be super wet, but the process is working microscopically! 🔬 Note: I typically left my plastics in for 24 hours, but some were noticeably better after just 6 hours in the sun

Use gloves 🧤 to remove your renewed plastics, and wipe them clean if you plan on immediately using them, or let them stand to have all the liquid evaporate. Note: I accidentally burned myself by touching something fresh out of the container that looked dry 😖

🔼 These photos show steps 3 and 5, respectively

👀 Results

I was able to do three separate batches during a 90°F (32°C) heatwave with 14 hours of sunlight, 12 of which were direct ☀️ I only used 2 cups of 12% hydrogen peroxide between two 15 liter latching bins.

🎮 DualShock Controllers

🩶 Gray DualShock

This controller got the worst of the sun and yellowing over the years. I didn't take the best before pictures, but the results are definitely noticeable:

🔼 The before: yellowish gray. Kinda dim in color

And here's the same controller after 18 hours, it was noticeably better after 12 hours but I left it in longer to get every last bit of yellow:

🔼 The after: a clearer, brighter, whiter gray

I left it in the container overnight so of those 18 hours 2 would've been in indirect sunlight and 10 in the dark. But, it was in the hot sun on a 90°F (32°C) day and recent research shows that the heat can also be a catalyst in the Retrobrite process when there's no UV light ☀️ When I opened the lid of my container it was steamy ♨️

💙 Blue DualShock

This controller was hard to photograph, but in person you could tell the blue color was a little off. It was also from 2000 like the gray controller.

🔼 Hard to tell but it's yellow around the edges. I think my phone made the colors pop more than they did in person

This one brightened up quickly, it only really needed 6 hours in the bin. I did this controller in the second batch so the box was already filled with condensation

🔼 I'm blue Da ba dee Da ba di

I also finally found a better place to take natural light photos 📸

🎮 GameBoy Advance

This one was really exciting and has a wonderful improvement. Here's before:

🔼 White, but is it really?

And here it is after 24 hours in the bin:

🔼 Now that's white 🤍

It was probably fine after ~14 hours but I didn't want any yellow left behind so I left it in longer.

I also have a bonus photo comparing it to a similarly sun damaged GameBoy Advance:

🔼 The second one looks so dingy

For the GameBoy Advance I also threw in the side bumpers as well as the L, R, and Start and Select buttons to clear them up too. Surprisingly the A, B, and D-pad were unaffected by the sun. 🚫☀️

📺 PlayStation

This PlayStation was from 2000 and it came with the two controllers pictured above. I also forgot to take before photos before taking it apart 🪛

🔼 You can see the yellow on the corner near the Power button and it's super noticeable in the sun ☀️

The PlayStation had to be done in three batches. I did the top shell, bottom shell, and lid separately because you're not allowed to stack pieces. Any shadows may prevent the plastic from resorting 🕶️

🔼 Like it's fresh out of its box and now matches the controller ports

Each part was left in for 20-24 hours to make sure every last bit of yellowing was gone. You could do it for around 12-18 hours especially on a hot day in direct sun but I didn't want to have to repeat the process and it's very hard to overdo the Retrobrite unless you leave it in for days. ☀️🌙

🔼 It ended up being most noticeable on the seam of the lid and the top shell (also it's less grimey now)

🎓 Lessons Learned

You can't use 3% hydrogen peroxide. 🙅 I've tried this in the past with the submersion method and it takes WEEKS. 🗓️ You need to get the 12% food grade hydrogen peroxide without any added stabilizers.

You absolutely need a bin that seals or latches. The first day I used a bin that only clicked closed on two sides and I never saw the results I was expecting because the humidity must've been escaping. Osmosis and all that stuff…

🔼 These bins didn't latch and I never saw the condensation form

I would encourage you to not have your plastics touching the liquid to prevent uneven restoration, but as long as you're doing the rest of the process correctly and using enough hydrogen peroxide I don't think it matters that much. Towards the end I threw in some items that I didn't really care about and they were half in the hydrogen peroxide and I didn't notice any uneven streaks even after 18 hours.

🥡 Takeaway

I'll definitely be using this method as my preferred method in the future! It makes very even results in just a day and doesn't require you to fully submerge huge items like the PlayStation shells. 😊✅

😊 Special Thanks

Original founder of the Vapor method: https://twitter.com/A3rgan/status/1539964705665454081?t=4j03HEr1s_RJ3-EfWxjQPQ&s=19