#like not necessarily killed just. watch the preparation of it

[rxttenfish]

not putting this on that last reblog, but like, relevant to it - i feel like a lot of people have an extremely bad relationship to death. specifically, in a way thats very cultural and not innate.

i mean, how much has already been talked about with how uncomfortable people are with thinking about the meat that theyre eating came from something alive, and how they dont want any reminders of it? this is a recent change, and a very specific geographic change as well. people are suddenly a lot more squeamish around death, even necessary death. not just of predation but of animals dying at all, even in cases where the animal needs to be put down for quality of life reasons. it feels like its gotten a lot worse lately, of people trying to keep animals alive long past they should have been humanely put down, just because they cannot possibly deal with the fact of death.

it sort of feels the same way for human death as well. i mean, just look at the order of the good death and what they talk about, with how the removal of death as a natural and normal part of our lives seemingly only makes the hurt of it all the worse.

it feels like people are even less familiar with animals and less familiar with the messy parts of being alive, so far removed from nature, that they get even more freaked out by just the simplest, most basic parts of it. it feels like how people have gotten way more afraid of insects and spiders now that theres a greater degree of separation forced between us and the natural world. and because of this, it now makes the ongoing ecological crisis all the worse, because fear makes it so much harder to save what we have.

[amuseoffyre]

Rewatching bits of S1 is a revelation for the stuff in S2.

In the ark sequence, we see Aziraphale standing by and watching the preparation for the Great Flood, clearly in some state of anxiety about it. When Crawley questions him about it and says “not the kids, you can’t kill kids”, Aziraphale straight-up tells him “you can’t judge the Almighty, Crawley.”

Fast-forward to 2500BC, the first time they see each other after the flood and, once again, the lives of children are on the line. This time, Aziraphale is immediately horrified when he finds out.

This time, he doesn’t just stand there and watch. He goes and actively puts himself between Crawley and the children. When Crawley turns up, Aziraphale is still wary of him and almost falls for him saying “I want to destroy the blameless children of blameless Job”. But the second he realises the goat-kids were saved, he knows Crawley still believes “you can’t kill kids”.

That’s why he’s so convinced that Crawley absolutely won’t kill Job’s children, even when Crawley miracles up a flaming inferno to engulf the house. “Are you sure, angel?” Crawley taunts him and Aziraphale - unafraid and absolutely certain that this demon will thwart Heaven’s will - says yes.

And when those very children are in danger of being killed off by Heaven directly, to fulfil God’s will for Job to lose all his old possessions, Aziraphale lies to protect them. He’s terrified after, afraid he’s destined to fall, but he did it anyway because he wanted to protect them, just as he gave away his weapon to protect Adam and Eve outside the garden.

And I feel like this is the big turning point for him. Giving his sword away wasn’t necessarily defying orders, but because of Crawley and the Job situation, Aziraphale makes the active choice to make a stand against Heaven’s plans. He’s terrified, but he does it, and then he keeps on doing it.

Every single action he takes against Heaven is in the name of protecting people: giving Adam & Eve the sword, shielding Job’s children, trying to teach the Antichrist to be good, swan-diving out of heaven to protect earth, hiding Gabriel to keep him safe, shouting at the Archangels and Demons like naughty children when they threaten to bring a war on and now, walking back into Heaven in the hopes of beginning a revolution for the whole system.

[thinkingotherwise]

what's your headcanons on the windbreaker characters and their ideal types?

Oof that's a tough one, because I like to believe that you can fall in love with someone that isn't your type, but you find this certain connection with them. But I'll try my best 🤞🤞

Wind Breaker characters' "ideal type"

Haruka Sakura - sporty and passionate; because of his drive for fighting it would need to be someone who understands the passions and even better if they share it; someone ready to throw anything at any moment and run to you if needed, really dependable that you can tell all your secrets to;

Akihiko Nirei - nice and confident; someone who'd pump him up, his personal cheerleader, being the sweetest and nicest person known in town with such a lovable voice and words coming out of you, but when he is self-hating knowing just the way to change their words to firm and confident making sure he knows how loved he is;

Hayato Suou - kinda tsundere; someone not keen on PDA and easily flustered by it, and someone who likes discussing things - able to talk with Suou for hours on end about the topics that are interesting to both of them;

Kyotaro Sugishita - "big sibling" type; taking care of everyone and making sure he's part of the group, always making him feel included and sometimes making him socialize with others, even people he seems to hate (Sakura);

Mitsuki Kiryu - gamer; confident in skills and ready to throw hands if someone insults them or boyfriend, someone who looks sweet but in reality has a sharp tongue and can win any argument;

Taiga Tsugeura - someone who likes to take care of themselves; doesn't necessarily mean thin, but someone who likes to spend time making sure they are healthy, maybe someone having these daily trackers that they prepare to have better time management;

Kotoha Tachibana - playful but responsible; someone who gets shit done but is so playful about it, teasing and laughing every second they can, easily convinced to help and sometimes taking too much on their shoulders, struggling to finish things;

Hajime Umemiya - caring and extroverted; giving pieces of advice to everyone and surprisingly ready to help others with school work, touchy - meaning they love PDA and hugging, they would be the perfect duo, to help each other whenever the other one struggles or has some bad days;

Toma Hiiragi - street smart and brave; being tangled in enough trouble to elevate some stress off him, when they help other students solve issues, but also to be able to make his blood pumping and belly ache while causing just enough of the aforementioned trouble;

Ren Kaji - understanding and music fan; someone who would understand his issues and help him through them, being very supportive, also someone who likes different kinds of music to talk to him about it;

Takeshi Enomoto - stylish and a fan of Japanese history; someone who readers too much mafia/yakuza au!, or stories and would like to spend evenings watching action movies, someone who likes fashion and can spend too much time trying to find the perfect outfit for the two of them;

Yuto Kusumi - animal lover; someone who loves animals and loves taking care of them, maybe someone trying to become a veterinary or someone spending their time helping neighbours and shelters with animals, very empathetic and emotional;

Tasuku Tsubakino - open-minded and friendly; someone who gains trust easily and is friendly with everyone they meet, someone that has no problem with the different hobbies of Tasuku and easily supports their every move;

Seiryu Sakaki - pretty/handsome and popular, someone interested in skincare and makeup, very eye-catching and bringing others' attention to them, someone who easily follows along his pranks;

Uryu Sakaki - curious and someone who likes to eat and try new dishes; spending time searching through internet looking for new restaurants and food booths maybe even recipes to try with him;

Choji Tomiyama - complete opposite of him, meaning looks like they could kill you is a cinnamon roll; someone who people could mistake as the leader, like with Togame, but really they are all smiles and ready for cuddles, probably couldn't hurt anyone, only if they were really angry;

Jo Togame - kuudere- popular and disinterested; surprisingly very popular because of their "cool" behaviour, but they are simply disinterested in most things, when others talk to them or while others ask for help, but their loving boyfriend, that can make smile bloom on their face and somehow can interest them in anything he likes;

Kota Sako - someone who has sweet tooth; with his love for sweets it would need to be someone who also doesn't mind going to try sweets every now and then, maybe even someone who takes photos of said food and shows it off on their social media;

Minoru Kanuma - teasing and confident; being the 'comedic relief character' for everyone when they are annoyed by teasing the shit out of them in funny way but also not hurting their feeling in the process;

Yukinari Arima - loving and easily flustered; someone who adores being his centre of attention, even seeking it out, but also being easily flushed the moment he touches them or calls them with endearment;

Teruomi Inugami - equally joyful but more calm; someone who loves the puppy energy of his and hypes him up even more, although they look calm they are excited to spend every minute with him;

Tags: @misticbullet

[luveline]

hi jade !! this is me resending my hotch request bc of ur recent post 🤍 i sent the one about hotch taking care of bau!reader who has a really bad stomachache, thanks so much, i think you’re amazing 💞💞💞

thank you for requesting angel! fem

You do this sad thing with your hands when you're in pain. Aaron wishes he didn't know your tell, that he'd never had reason to understand it, but he does. Your fingers, in particular your pinky, curl toward your palm frenetically, and he has an ample view of your closed off face in the chair opposite. He can pin the moment he knows you're in pain down to the minute twitch of your lip. 

He peeks at Morgan where he lays on the couch before leaning across the table to touch your arm. The jet offers little privacy, so Aaron tries to be delicate. 

“L/N? Are you alright?” 

“Mm,” you hum, too high-pitched to have come out the way you meant it. 

“What's wrong?” 

“Nothing.” You say this, and yet you can't open your eyes, leaning less than subtly away from him as though your pain is catching.

Aaron keeps his head down as he stands so as not to attract attention. You've sat near the wall, leaving an empty seat for him to sit in. “Hey,” he says, touching the crook of your elbow, wanting to fix it, soothe the twitch from your hand, “you're in pain.” 

“It's nothing.” 

“Saying it won't necessarily make it true,” he says. 

“It felt worth trying.” 

He is genuinely perturbed to see you in pain like this without explanation. “You have to tell me what's wrong.” 

“Hotch, I…” you say, your voice wrought with embarrassment as you open your eyes, “it's just my stomach hurts. That's all.” 

“Sharp pains?” 

“Just hurts. Nothing dire.” 

“How do you know?” he asks. 

“Happens sometimes.” 

He puts his arm around you, careful not to jostle your back. You're tense as a rubber band about to snap. It's unlike you to be the more rigid of the two of you, less foreign for Hotch to have softened, especially when it's you. “How often?” he asks, wary of the tears brimming like silver at the corners of your eyes. 

“Just sometimes, I don't know.” You speak in a concise, panicked tenor. 

In this line of work, it could be anything. Not eating enough, not having time to stop for breath. You could be thirsty, sick, anxious, stressed into pain. It could be purely psychosomatic or you could be injured. He can't remember you taking any blows during the last few days away. It could be your period. You might not want to mention that. 

“Y/N,” he says, falling out of boss mode now he's sure it's not going to kill you, and into someone who cares for you, “what can I do?” 

You shudder a breath, slouched under his touch. “It's not that bad.” 

It's clearly a shocking amount of pain. Your shuddering worsens as he pulls you into his side. He's prepared to sit with you until you can give him better instructions, or until the pain passes, or, God forbid, things get worse. “I'm here,” he says, rubbing your arm gently. “Try to breathe.” 

He's wondering why you might think this amount of pain is normal, or acceptable. Wondering why he shouldn't just call for medical assistance here and now, but then you start to come around, your face shining with perspiration. “Oh,” you sigh, wiping your face with your sleeve, leaning into your hand, hiding. 

“Is it getting better?” he asks. 

“I think it's anxiety or something.” Your breath slips out in disjointed huffs. 

He can't guess what it is. Have you been to the doctor? he wants to ask, but perhaps in a moment, when you're steady in yourself again. “From the jet?” 

“No. Maybe.” You frown. 

“Jack doesn't understand that I'm on a plane.” 

You lift your gaze in confusion. Aaron moves onwards.

“He doesn't understand that this is a plane. I brought him by, once, to try to explain why I can't always answer the phone. It's thick metal, you know?” It was an easier explanation than having no signal in the sky. “But he didn't get that it was something that could move. I had to take him to the airport. We watched…” He slows as your eyes meet his completely. “We watched them take off for hours. Now he doesn't get so angry when I don't answer.” 

“Jack was angry?” you ask, half incredulous. 

“A bit.” He tries to string the story together before you can realise what it is he's doing, his arm curling around your from behind, fingers making the most tenuous of circles into the very side of your stomach. A barely there sort of comfort. “It's not like him. He reminds me of his mom when he's angry.” 

Your smile is a physical relief to see. “Does he have tantrums?” 

“Doesn't every kid?” 

You talk about Jack in dulcet tones while he tries to keep the pain at bay, his arm steadfast behind you, your faces closer than they have any platonic business being. He'll pester you into doctors appointments when you touch down, but for now, he just holds you and talks to you like everything is normal. 

You cover his hand with yours when the pain starts anew, talking through it, pain in the soft line of your bottom lip. 

“Am I hurting you?” he asks. You give him a weak smile. He feels awful, but it makes his heart race. So close, and so pretty, and so upset. “Is there anything I can do?” 

An embarrassing amount of weight lies in ‘anything’. You shake your head, whispering, “Nothing. This is enough.” 

Aaron pulls you in closer and wraps both of his arms around you, hiding you from the others, an aimless attempt to protect you from a pain he can't touch. Someone puts a cup of tea on the table for you, but otherwise you're left alone for the rest of the flight. 

[sebastianswallows]

Dreamed of you

— PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: A Bene Gesserit sister is sent to kill Feyd. She hesitates as she watches him sleep, all the way until he wakes up and catches her.

— WARNINGS: none, just reader simping for one cute boy

— WORDCOUNT: 1k

— A/N: First of all, this isn't necessarily movie!Feyd, it's more based on the books, but I love him in all his forms. I wrote this in a bout of madness this evening, and it's just a love letter to how beautiful and soft and sad Feyd canonically is. That is all.

A shadow in the corner moved. The door shut behind her with a hiss. Outside, the chanting of his name resounded like a distant wave. Feyd. A myriad of emotions raged inside the way that sylphic syllable was said. So mangled and intense were they that she could hardly tell, even after weeks of being on Giedi Prime, if the feeling in their voices was that of fear, or love.

He had won another battle in the arena tonight. Half-fight, half-play, all a spectacle of violence kept elegant and grim with the flourished motions of his blades in inky black and white. The celebrations were kept modest afterwards. This was no birthday.

His chambers smelled of sweet sweat and bitter blood. It filled her lungs as soon as she stepped in. He slept now, quietly, in a surprisingly small bed. As she approached him, dagger in hand, she realised it was not so small — he just took little space on it.

He slept huddled to one side, his body curled within the black sheets as if he were in a womb.

The na-Baron was an arresting sight, like a work of art left interrupted. His marble-white arms hugged a pillow to his chest, and from beneath a curve of silk draped over him, the corner of a knee peeked through. The soft line of his eyes revealed a dour bend in sleep, delicate dark lashes resting like butterfly wings on his cheeks. His full lips, decadent and lustful, were pulled into a pout. She wondered what he was dreaming of.

Beneath this impressive amalgam of his features, from the dainty to the sultry to the broad shoulders and strong arms, he was just a little boy. Motherless and far from home, preyed on by his uncle, worshipped by a distant crowd. Useless, now that the Atreides line had ended and a child had been secured from him by Lady Fenring.

The Kwisatz Haderach would have to be reached through other means, and from a bloodline less volatile than that of the Harkonnens. They had proved uncooperative, hostile — the Baron, his nephews, even Lady Jessica. Born to be an asset, they made themselves a threat. That was why Feyd-Rautha had to die.

She stood over his black bed.

The guards outside were dealt with, the courtiers were asleep, and the drunk and maddened crowd outside would not realise what happened until it was too late. This was the result of years of planning, months of preparation, and weeks spent on that polluted planet pretending to be one of the new interrogation trainers.

Torturing was not her forté, but there were worse fates than cutting men’s tendons clean or gouging out their eyeballs. All the “noble” prisoners were already long dead before she got there. Failed Harkonnens was all that was left. And all men bled the same.

She stood over his black bed with a knife.

“He must die,” she thought to herself, an angry frown blooming on her brow. Her body was already rebelling. “The Reverend Mother demands it. He must die.”

She stood over his black bed with a knife. And faltered.

The blade shone silver in the low electric light, hanging like a teardrop from her fist. Her body refused to move.

Should she really kill him now? Perhaps she should wait for him to turn on his back. What would it hurt to look at him a second more, just another, and another…? He was a good fighter, no matter the arrangements of the arena. Would it not be ignoble to slay him this way? Generations of genetic planning had culminated in him, and to let it all go now...

Her mind’s motions, the fleshy resistance, it all came to nothing in an instant, blown away like snowflakes on the sand. There was a change in the air all around them, a stillness where unconsciousness was before, a presence, like a horn blown through a storm in the lighthouses of old, sounds swallowed by sounds, an impact of cells in the air blooming into a single point of light. Feyd-Rautha opened his eyes.

She only caught the hint of an impish smile before she backed away as quickly as an indrawn breath. Her back hit the door and her hand scrambled for the handle, but he was upon her with the same speed he applied in his gladiatorial fights.

How could she have missed the signs that he had woken? Had his breathing even changed?

“Got you now,” he purred against her cheek, “Bene Gesserit.”

She bit back a scream, her skull pressed against the metal door, and with clenched teeth, she began a sharp command — the Voice. But her anger overwhelmed her and Feyd’s lips swallowed the words she hadn’t even finished speaking.

“Let me g—”

He kissed her like a lover. There was a passion in him that his ostentations of brutality had not yet killed and she found herself moaning, instinctively pleased with the full and masculine presence that swallowed her being — as if it wasn’t a murderer who had caught her just now.

His breathing was steady, as if he had planned all of that. From beyond the thick folds of her dress, she could feel his naked flesh. They clung to him, her clothes, as if they wanted to embrace him. His left hand held her fist, the blade trapped within their entangled grip. The other held her jaw, tilting her face high enough for his lips.

“I knew you’d come,” he breathed, pausing to rest his mouth on hers. She could taste ink on her tongue — the final traces from the coating on his teeth. “I dreamed of you.”

So that was how he knew. That was why he pouted in his sleep.

“Will you kill me?” he whispered.

She could feel it on her cheeks when that boyish smile of his grew.

“I have to,” she said, and her own voice betrayed her, sounding terribly broken.

“Try,” Feyd grinned.

[velvetures]

Vulnerable pt.1?

A/N: A not-so-little thing I've had for a few weeks, and wanted to see if a part two was something anyone would be interested in reading. If so, please let me know. Summary: You try and get Ghost to relax after a harsh mission and find a bit of a quiet moment. T/W: not proofread :)

Bad intel led to you and your Lieutenant being nearly hunted down and killed by a not-so-small group of arms dealers who caught on quickly to the pair of foreigners lingering just a little bit too close to their sheltered storage garage right in the middle of a market district in the South East. The task force assumed sending in an entire squad would be overkill just for some simple recon information and decided that you and Ghost would be the perfect pair for the job. ‘In and Out…’ Price had said quite offhandedly, sliding the prepared information in two files across the table to you. Only Price’s sources hadn’t double-checked if the area was secure enough for them to enter without full backup on standby. Not necessarily a lethal kind of mistake when bringing you and the Lieutenant into the equation, but there were too many close calls and stray bullets that were clearly heard for either of you to feel super confident in getting away unscathed.

Your only savior was a small farmhouse that had been recently abandoned due to the illegal and dangerous activity that had been surrounding the small city. Modest in size with two bedrooms and running water. Perfect for a makeshift safe house to keep the trackers off your asses until an extraction could be arranged and put into motion. Contrary to belief, the 141 didn’t have the bottomless pit of resources everyone believed they had at their disposal. Which included access to evac and trained air-support teams. This wasn’t a big mission that had a lot of working parts and multiple organizations involved that had enough liquidated funds to through out for a helo and heavy gunners to rescue two operators from the middle of who-the-fuck-knows-where.

That means with busted equipment, inoperable comms, hardly enough ammunition to fight out of a wet paper bag, and zero way of knowing when and if you’d be rescued, there was nothing left to do but try and relax in one of the most difficult predicaments. It left you searching through cabinets for maybe some kind of food to keep the both of you while Ghost did one of his favorite things. Pacing the house from window to window looking for the slightest bit of movement. The trouble being, there wasn’t anything for at least two miles in any direction. The people who owned this place were farmers of some sort, and had placed their home right in the middle of crop fields that gave a very advantageous sightline. While that information gave you quite a bit of comfort, it was not effecting Ghost positively in the slightest.

Your relationship with the Lieutenant was complex, to say the least. When you were first introduced it was for a succession of short co-op missions that were nothing if not brief and very impersonal leaving you with more questions than answers about the man who stayed hidden under the mask. Through some talks that you hadn’t been privy to being in the room for, John Price decided that your skills would be more useful to Task Force 141 than for the U.S. Division of Clandestine Service and offered you a position that you couldn’t possibly decline.

By day-in and day-out contact with Ghost, you got a lot more comfortable with him and learned much of his little idiosyncratic behaviors. Maybe a little too well…. He didn’t particularly act much differently towards you in the grand scheme of things, but something in you felt like trust had been developed to where he could depend on you when the situation called for it.

“Go hit the rack, I’ll take first watch.” He called gruffly from the living room where he had moved a chair from the kitchen to sit facing the front door head on with his MP5 resting lazily on his chest.

You couldn’t help but notice just how damn tired he looked under all that gear and through the black smeared around his eyes. He couldn’t be carrying less than one hundred pounds on him right now; even sitting in that chair with it wasn’t a good enough solution. Let you take a moment or two for yourself, stripping out of your tac vest and heavily weighted gear to drop it on top of the kitchen counter with a little grunt. Two days ago you both got the luxury of sleeping, and since then it’s been nothing but being on the run.

This would be the safest place for you that wasn’t in the belly of an evac bird, and the thought of Ghost not taking the time to sleep sat in your mind like a lead sinker. Leaning against the doorway and watching him for a long moment, you start having thoughts. Dangerous thoughts. Ones that normally wouldn’t surface if you’d been able to separate working with Ghost from the more personal aspect of literally sharing almost every part of your life with him. Thoughts about how you could make him feel better… even if just for the night. That no one was around for miles and whatever happened could safely stay between the pair of you.

By utter carelessness of your position with the team or lack of fear about how the Lieutenant might respond, you walk into the living room and kneel down right in front of him with your fingers reaching out to unlace his dusty boots. Off instinct alone, you expected and watched as his foot flinched away from you. His whole body jumps and stiffens at the contact and sight of you kneeling on the floor. He quickly pauses and collects himself, taking several moments before his gravelly voice breaks the silence.

“What’re you doin’ Sergeant?” His eyes grew heavy and showed more expression than the rest of his massive body as they flashed with confusion and a little swell of anger. That aloofness didn’t hide that slight guardedness of something that made him uncomfortable in one way or another.

“I’m perfectly capable of takin’ care of my fuckin’ self.” He adds with zero discernible sign of either offense or gratitude. You can’t help but smile tiredly, feeling like you’re attempting to soothe a feral wolf into letting you pull it’s paw out of trap.

“I never said you couldn’t L.T.,” You reply gently, reaching back to start unhooking the laces from their claws on his left foot. “Just thought you couldn’t use some affection.” Smirking to yourself, you can’t help but think something this small being considered ‘affection’ didn’t fit anyone save for Ghost. He was just too hard to approach. Walls so thick and tall that it would take someone with patience beyond that of a human to break through and see what rested behind all of that brash posturing and icy disposition.

“You know affection is something I’m averse to,” he utters, watching yet making no effort to stop you. “What you’re doin’ is unnecessary.” A small sound close to a growl escapes from behind the mask when my hand reaches to the back of his leg to help aid my effort of pulling his boot off.

Chuckling softly and sitting the boot down at your side you respond, “I know you don’t like affection,” You’re already working on the other one, purposefully moving slowly as not to overwhelm or spook him. “That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve it, L.T..” You can’t help but look up at him almost exhaustedly yet still trying to be reassuring.

“M’fine without it.” He spits out quickly, looking away from your face back down to your progress on the laces, his masked face otherwise unreadable. “Didn’t ask you for this shit, Sergeant.” Tinged with an undercurrent of irritation his deep voice sounds near the bridge of turning to anger.

“Mothering me isn’t in your best interest.” He growls low and threateningly in your face as he bends down to grab the boot sitting next to you and giving it a quick look of observation before sitting it back down closer to him. You just finish taking off his other boot and sit it down next to the other without much more of a verbal fight and put a hand on his thigh to steady your sore legs as you get back up to your feet.

“I’m younger than you Ghost, I can’t mother you.” You reply, holding out your hand for him.

He doesn’t make note or stop you from using him to help yourself up, however, Ghost follows your movements carefully… closely. He’s doing everything in his power to hide his emotions, but there’s still a faint twitch of his lips when he looks down at his boots sitting at his side. You’d done something very unusual, and he knew berating you was what he should’ve done. Yet a flinch of a smile was what really moved Ghost’s mouth. It’s gone before it even surfaces, pushed down by the sight. of you holding out your little hand in front of him. The sounds of his deep breathing fill the quiet house as you both sit there unflinching of each other. The Lieutenant shifts in his chair, readjusting his rifle on his chest.

“Go to bed. It’s late.” His repeated command felt softer now. Wavering a bit with you hand still held out and your fingers wiggling a little.

“Come on,” You hold steady and patient.

Reward comes in the form of feeling Ghost’s heavy and large hand falling into yours and gripping just hard enough to allow you the phantom sensation that you’re actually helping him up from the chair, hearing a short grunt as his back straightens up. Without explanation, you lead the Lieutenant through the small house back towards the only bedroom in the house with an actual bed left behind by the owners, pulling him to the center of the room and turning around to face him.

“Put your arms up for me.”

“Excuse me?” Ghost’s frown can be heard from behind the mask. Despite his apparent bewilderment, he hesitantly obeys, extending his arms above his head with an exhale of a tense breath, looking down at you with dark and questioning eyes. “What are you doing now?”

You just smile and hum to yourself softly, reaching out to begin unclipping and unzipping the sections of his tac vest holding it on his upper body and the multiple ammo belts. Carefully draping them over you shoulder as you release his body from them one by one. Seeing the way Ghost’s body sinks into itself with the weight being pulled off after days without rest. You feel his eyes scan over you, over your hands finding ways to take off his gear for the first time in your life, feeling your way through sunch an unusual yet careful act.

“Bein’ fuckin’ ridiculous…” He growls, covering up the feelings of not being so concealed by barking at you a little.

“Shhh.” Your hush does enough to stop his quiet and brooding complaints.

Long enough for you to kneel back down at his feet and work at the thigh straps over his pants and even remove the ankle holster you’d left alone while taking off his boots. He doesn’t resist this part, just watching you undress him bit by bit with half a mind questioning just what had happened for you to start acting so strangely. You’d always been sweet. Much nicer than your job allowed for. Yet even this was quite off the edge of the character Ghost had built for you over the years. This felt downright intimate for just two operators to be doing.

Then again your shared situation wasn’t exactly one of professionalism at this point. You’d been improvising for nearly a full day just trying to stay alive. Once back on your feet, you take hold of his hand again, this time with a little less caution since you’d already touched him there, and begin pulling at the fingertips to slide his sand and dirt-cakes gloves off. Even seeing his bare skin under his gloves be seen in the dim lamplight of the house, Ghost doesn’t do more than flex his fingers once you’ve rid him of the stiff material.

Purposefully avoiding his mask, you get Ghost down to nothing more than boxers and a t-shirt, even with his help at certain parts without him growling more or acting like you were irritating him. While he still gave off a feeling of all-around grumpiness and more than a little confused as hell, you paid it no mind as you led him towards the edge of the bed and pointed to it with a short yet polite command for him to ’sit’. Right away you noticed his hesitation and the way that his shoulders and arms tensed, his attention solely on you, flashing between your eyes and mouth like he was trying to reassure himself that he’d heard you correctly. But with one small tug on his hand, he turns around and sits on the bed with his feet resting on the floor and his arms braced on both sides of him a little stiffly.

“Now what?” His voice held a bit of rasp to it as he tracked your movement from his side, seeing you climb up into the bed and position yourself on your knees behind him. The close proximity didn’t go unnoticed by the Lieutenant as he cleared his throat, once again interrupting the calm silence in the house. His tension filled the small space between you, heating the gap of air, almost electrifying it.

“Just relax Ghost.” Easily touching his shoulders, you begin working your palms flat against the slopes of his muscled neck.

Purposefully but gently rubbing at the stiff cords of muscle and introducing the sensation to him as easily as possible in the case that it was a bit too overwhelming for him all at once. You knew you’d pushed the boundaries with him much further past anything you’d expected to achieve in one night. But now that he was sitting here in front of you, it was hard not to smile brightly that he was trusting you so much. Allowing your hands to be on him. Accepting that you had positioned the both of you in a very vulnerable position that could lead to a lot more violent options than affectionate ones. Torture and nightmares had given more than a fair share to Ghost, yet he was patiently staving off his own clear hesitation so that you could play out whatever this was turning out to be.

Your command went unacknowledged just like all of Ghost’s from earlier had; His breathing steadily slowing down into a deep and rich, relaxed sort of rhythm. Power of your hands and calming attitude worked faster than you anticipated, leaving the massive man sitting between your thighs begin to release. Tension falling out of his body not only under your hands but by sight of his jaw loosening. You’re even lucky enough to spot him trying to take glances at you from the corner of his eye, only to look back ahead since you were in quite the blindspot. Taking your thumbs in a sweeping motion from the edges of his shoulders inward, you apply pressure on the back of his neck and experimentally reach higher up under the hem of his mask. A dangerous game to play. Rumbling sounds of appreciation filling your ears are better than any sort of medal you could earn or bet you’d ever cash in. His head rolls back slightly with each small circle of your thumbs and fingers, pushing against you. Silently asking for more pressure.

“Feel good?” You ask at just a whisper, not wanting to disturb the warm sort of feeling the room has right now by speaking too loud.

Under the safety of his mask, Ghost’s mouth curves into a smile hearing you. He rolls his head back again, arching slightly to accommodate your small hands struggling to find good purchase to keep working at the intensity he’d been hinting at. A much less controllable sound escapes his mouth when you begin working at a very sore spot he didn’t even know was present right at the base of his skull.

“Keep going,” His sleepy-sounding mutter makes your chest ache.

Grinning at the feeling of his harsh accent and sudden domestication you work away diligently down his back carefully and methodically so as to not miss a single thing. And while it’s not necessarily going to help him much, you go ahead and use your fingernails to gently scratch up and down. It’s then a groan interrupts your focus and you see Ghost shift on the edge of the bed. Believing you’d found the end of your time, you leaned back on your heels and expected him to get up and leave you in the bedroom alone. Watching him tug at his t-shirt and pull it over his head to toss it somewhere across the room was how you were told that Ghost did indeed want more. Only his shirt was getting in the way of something he wasn’t getting.

Hearing him give a deep sigh when your fingertips returned to his now bared skin gave you a rush of adrenaline and nearly caused you to wiggle happily that you’d been able to share this with Ghost. He leans back into you a little more, letting your hands and arms take more of the weight as he groans out;

“You’ve done this before.”

“Yeah, but not for a long time.” You answer, eyes smoothing over the muscles rippling as your hands work at them.

“You’re good,” He grunts, closing his eyes and zeroing in on how to focus his attention between your small hands working so efficiently and the conversation he’d begun. “How’d you get so good at it?” His head turns a little, trying to get at least one good look at you. He keeps shifting now, allowing him to keep you just in the edge of his periphery.

“Had a good teacher for a few years,” You answer, working in tight circles over a large ball of muscle fibers all collected just at the edge of his shoulder blade, earning another growling sound from the Lieutenant.

“Teacher? When?” He asks, giving a slow release of a deep breath giving a short indication that the muscle you’d been working to release was getting a bit uncomfortable. Pulling back for a moment just to give him and your hands a break, you hear him make a noise then lean back a little further, pressing his back against you almost like a dog wanting to be pet more.

“Don’t stop.” He requests in a husky tone. You chuckle aloud, returning your hands and taking a less aggressive approach by smoothing your palms over him in less-than-planned patterns, just enjoying feeling his tattooed and scarred skin under your hands as you think about how to answer him.

“A woman in London taught me,” you start, using your nails again on his skin softly. “In the year or so between my U.S. military discharge and acceptance into the task force with you.” You see the effect of your touch on Ghost as it takes him longer to respond and the way he keeps leaning more and more weight back into you, unable to keep himself from subconsciously trying to get closer. Wanting more whether he’d ever admit it or not. There’s no mistaking it between either of you, he’s enjoying this.

“I assume she was special to you.”

It was your neighbor just across the hallway from you. An older woman named Sarah. Eccentric in modern times, you’d always believed she must’ve been a force to be reckoned with when she wasn’t hindered by an aging body and an even more ailing mind. A massage therapist by trade, and a pianist by heart there wasn’t much that Sarah could accomplish without someone helping her once she became limited in movement living on the eighth floor of the apartment building you shared. Back then you didn’t have much in the way of contacts after leaving the country, and it led to a friendship with the old woman living across from you. Sharing stories, eating dinner together, grocery shopping together when she felt like going out, and trading some skills between each other. After telling Ghost this much with your fingers tracing out letters and shapes over his back, you can sense he’s listening carefully. And Ghost is feeling a slight fuzzy sensation building in the back of his brain, spreading out in a warm wave down to his fingertips and toes.

“She taught me massage since at the time I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with my life.” Your head falls to the side, examining how the lamplight shines on ghost and deepens the already significant definition in his physique.

Ghost falls against you even more, and this time he lets his head fall back against you. Trying to counterbalance his weight and keep both of you from falling backwards with just him limp he’s becoming, you wrap on arm around his neck and hold his head in the bend of your arm. He gives another sigh, and settles against you heavily. He. looks at you in silence out of the corner of his eye listening to your explanation.

“Why was she your only friend?” You can’t help but chuckle at his question, resting your chin on his opposite shoulder and bringing your other arm under his to begin scratching and rubbing at his chest, feeling deep and puckered scars littering nearly every inch of him.

“I didn’t know anyone else. And you know me well enough to know that I’m not exactly extroverted.” You smile, tracing lightly up and down his well-defined arm. Ghost couldn’t be more comfortable laid against you.

“Sorry to hear that.” His voice low and husky with his mouth so close to your ear. “She must call or ask about you…”

You shake your head. “No. She died just before I joined you all. Her mind was… failing her. And there was some kind of accident in the middle of the night The police told me she was likely trying to get to the bathroom and fell. She apparently died on impact… they didn’t say what, but I think her head hit something.” You explain quietly. “And you and I both know that means lights out. So she didn’t suffer.”

“Sorry to hear that,” he answers as softly as he can manage after hearing the darker part of your happy memories. “How did it become… intimate, like this?” He asks, nodding to the way you were leaned up against his back with your hand tracing over every inch of him that you could reach. The longer you’ve both let this go, the more boundaries get pushed further out of reach, making it hard for either of you to really know where it could end.

You smile with a blush creeping up your neck onto your cheeks, thankful you’re somewhat hidden out of sight. “This isn’t really what she taught me,” You mutter a bit quiet. “When i was massaging you… yes. That I got taught. But this, it’s… just me.”

Out of your sight Ghost’s face flushes slightly as well, his cheeks a warm rose-color. You’re touching him in a way that he’d never expected. But hearing that you’re not just doing it for… relaxation, it’s a heavy but welcome thought. And Ghost can’t help that his body reacts to it with chills raising all over his skin despite the house being perfectly warm. He lets out a deep breath focusing on your words, repeating him over just to ensure that you’re not saying it one way and him interpreting it differently due to your hands being all over him, making him feel so good. Mind racing, heart pounding, he truly realizes just how vulnerable he is under you at this moment.

“I can stop if you’d like?” You offer, preparing to move away from him.

“No,” His hoarse voice gives away his sudden dry mouth. No matter how much your touch is affecting his body, he’s not willing to stop you right now. You’ve crossed into a level of trust that he can’t think to make you abide by anymore. It’s a foreign feeling for him, but he wants to push through it. Hoping he can feel more of you if he just holds on a little longer to this.

“Don’t stop."

Comments & Reblogs are Appreciated <3

[freakingholland]

Lovebirds times two - YJ!Dick Grayson x fem!reader

A/N: Is this another fluffy fic that contributes to the “Dick Grayson looks gorgeous and can have any woman” trope? Maybe! (yes) But we deserve happy Dick alongside happy Spitfire, okay? I’ll write something agst-ish some time I promise!

Warnings: not proofread! fluffy af, a couple of swear words, slightly suggestive dialogue but nothing nsfw. If I missed anything, please let me know!

Summary: Heroes do get to attend weddings every once in a while. It's especially exciting, when it's a dear friends' ceremony.

Word count: 1.4K +

If you enjoyed my work, you could buy me coffee here: Ko-fi.com/freakingholland

questions/requests/ideas here! - rules here

masterlist (needs a proper update)

_

“I love these two with my entire heart but HOLY FUCK— I really don’t feel like getting ready today…” you whined sheepishly as you were in the middle of putting moisturizer over your freshly washed face. You and your significant other were in the middle of your preparations for your dear friends’ wedding. It was Artemis and Wally’s big day.

“Don’t even get me started. I told you we could get somebody to get your makeup and hair done. You can’t complain now.” Dick responded with slight frustration in his voice. It was obvious that he wasn’t actually mad at you, just not necessarily content with the fact that despite being in a committed relationship for so many years you still had trouble with making use of the benefits that came along with dating one of the Wayne’s sons.

“No, no don’t get me wrong babe I would appreciate that, it’s just— I feel a bit lazy today, wish I could just snap my fingers and get ready magically. If you know what I mean.”

“—plus, I don’t trust people with my face and hair, being comfy in my own skin is my top priority for today. I can’t wait to get there and have fun with our fam. I’ve been really looking forward to tonight.”

Dick walked over from the sink where he was previously finishing brushing his raven, still slightly wet and disheveled bangs. He had a towel wrapped tightly around his hips as he had just gotten out of the shower. The entire bathroom smelled like his strongly, yet freshly scented cosmetics. Seeing Richard in his work uniform and in his Nightwing suit is one thing, but seeing your partner clean and well-rested in the comfort of your shared apartment is another thing. Regardless of your lengthy relationship you still felt butterflies circling around in your stomach at this rare sight.

He wrapped his arms tightly around your hips and rested his chin in the crook of your neck, tickling you with his hair.

“Me too hun.” He responded while exhaling deeply against your bare, moist back. His warm embrace prolonged for another couple of seconds. You could easily tell Dick also felt sentimental about being home and being able to enjoy normal life. Whatever normal life means.

“Kay- I’ll let you do your thing now.” Before leaving the bathroom to start dressing up Dick took your face in his calloused hands and planted a quick kiss on your forehead. Dick crinkled his nose.

“God you’re pretty.” He was shaking his head on his way to your bedroom.

With a genuine smile on your face, you continued with the preparations.

*

You did not let slight sluggishness take over your body and you managed to get ready within an hour. Dick didn’t have the opportunity to see your outfit yet, after he had finished getting ready, he slumped on the sofa to watch TV and kill some time as he patiently waited for you to get ready. You walked into your living room and as soon as your partner heard your shoes click on the floor, he quickly turned to examine your look for the festive night.

“Oh wow- love. You look fantastic.” He quickly got up from the sofa to take a closer look. He soaked up the joy that you brought him with just your groomed appearance and a genuine smile, while eyeing you up and down with a huge grin plastered across his unwearied face.

Dick was wearing a black tuxedo paired with a white button up shirt, a black bowtie, and black oxfords. He also sported a watch with a black leather strap.

“You don't look too bad yourself sir…”

“—who am I kidding, GOD I love your hair! It’s so shiny!”

He chuckled at your answer and swept a strand of his thick bangs to the side.

“I think we should speed up this whole wedding thing and actually rent out a venue, you know?” you continued. After you said that your and Dick’s eyes laid on your engagement ring.

Dick sincerely cares about your wishes when it comes to retaining of your personal aesthetic, it took him a couple of visits at different jewelry shops in Gotham to choose a proper engagement ring. Despite knowing you well he still needed someone’s assistance - or rather mental reassurance that he’s making the right choice. That’s why Dick invited Bruce to participate in the important opting. They ended up choosing a white gold band with a small emerald-cut sapphire.

Talk about cheesiness. But the said cheesiness is one of the reasons why your bond was and is so strong. Your lives don’t stray from the hardships and sorrow in spite of the additional, demanding chapter that is your partner’s and your service as a literal heroes. Both Dick and you have your problems and traumas, but the two of you putting in the effort to communicate well, be patient and to keep your spirits up is what works well - as your relationship’s binder.

“And my hair is all that it takes for you to say that?”

“—I’m starting to get worried that we might be together just because you think I’m so fucking sexy.”

“We’re also together because of your humbleness…” Your answer caused Dick to roll his eyes. The grounding remark didn’t stop him from giving you a peck on the lips. As your lips parted, he threw a quick glance at his watch and slowly started going towards your kitchen. He went to grab a set of keys that was lying on the island, as well as a previously prepared bag of necessities such as band aids and emergency trainers.

“Are we ready my beautiful lady?” he offered you his arm in a jokingly chalant manner. You quickly grabbed your clutch bag and a coat.

“Ummm, I think we are now.” After double checking if you have everything that both of you needed to comfortably celebrate among your dearest companions as well as your precious gift, you started walking towards the door of your apartment.

*

Your best friends’ wish was to get married in Gotham City regardless of it being your usual work location. The ceremony was set to take place in a small palace, close to the border of the city. When you had arrived at the scene it was drizzling, the air felt very humid and had a pleasant earthy scent. But said weather didn’t interfere with the charm of such a special evening.

After the lovely wedding ceremony everyone drove to a beautifully decorated restaurant. The tables looked very minimalistic, even so the entire place was filled with beige and light pink flowers – carnations, lilies, roses. Artemis’ effort really paid off because the place looked both elegant and warm. Partially because of a gentle glow that bathed the entire area.

The newlyweds were beaming with happiness. They looked physically relaxed now that the official part of the evening was over. They were making sure to spare some time for every single guest, whether it was to chat with them or to take a picture. Right before one of the hot meals you managed to catch them and take the two to the side, in order to give them their special gift.

Both of them teared up when you and Dick handed them a large oil painting of the pair, which was based on a photo from a trip that the four of you went on a couple of years ago.

“There is no way! You guys! That’s beautiful, I really don’t know what to say…,” said Wally. Artemis was so taken aback that she remained silent while her now husband continued his thanks. Their eyes were glistening with happy tears and that warmed your heart.

*

You twirled with a slight laugh escaping your lips. Dick’s strong arms quickly embraced your figure to keep you closer to his warm body.

“I’m so glad we chose that photo for the painting. They were in awe.”

“I was in awe when I saw you in that outfit. You’re right, I’m getting us a venue tomorrow.”

“And you laughed at me when I complemented your hair!” you playfully smacked Dick’s chest. He couldn’t help but chuckle at your faux mad expression. That was the Y/N that he fell in love with.

He slumped his shoulders to close the distance between you two as you softly swayed to the rhythm of a slower song.

“I’m so glad that I have you angel.” He leaned into your ear and whispered.

“Soon to be Mrs. Grayson. All mine.”

-

If you get the “god you’re pretty" reference I love you.

Stay whelmed xx

Tori

[mappingthesky]

not a prompt necessarily but I’m always down for planymphia angst 🙏🙏🙏

in response to multiple asks i’ve received for planymphia angst… here is this <3

i know baby, no attachment

None of this had been in the plan.

It was the first thing they’d talked about that first night in Jane’s apartment; Neither of them were looking for anything serious. They were both unavailable, incapable of making any promises. Not now. Not yet. It would be clean, simple, no strings attached. Just two people using each other. Innocently, admittedly using each other, but using each other nonetheless.

They’d been on the couch in Jane’s dimly lit apartment. Jane was an obvious sort of gorgeous. It was the first thing Nymphia had noticed about her, what drew her in on that first night they’d met: she’d been wearing something meant to lure you in, hypnotized by the clinging of her clothes to her body, the wave of her hair, her eyes tightlined and sharpened like knives. Jane was almost lethal to look at, all done up and primed to kill; the most magnetic friend-of-a-friend Nymphia had ever been introduced to. She was somehow even more gorgeous now, sitting on the couch in her casual clothes, her face aglow in the light of the television, her auburn hair pulled up into a messy top knot. She was painfully, effortlessly attractive, and, much to Nymphia’s surprise, only so much of a smooth talker. She came off suave at first, all punchlines and quick remarks, but after a while Nymphia could start to see her thinking. Jane would be in the middle of a sentence, flying through it, hurtling towards some revelation, and then she’d catch herself. She’d pause, freeze on a word and scoff at it, like she was considering whether whatever she was about to say would be worth the sentiment. And then she’d go a bit shy, averting her eyes and playing with the pilling on the upholstery, giving away just how carefully considered she was. And just when Nymphia was starting to think that Jane was completely nervous to her core, that Nymphia might actually have the upper hand in this situation, Jane would bring it back. She’d pick her head up and let the words go, say something so stunningly direct and devastating. It left Nymphia a little breathless, a little too endeared, a little too eager to kiss her.

They could have guessed at the chemistry, but it didn’t come close to the real thing.

What happened when Jane’s skin hit Nymphia was the sort of collision that produced suns and planets and supernovas, flinging particles off into space with enough pressure to form entire worlds. Nymphia could practically see the stars behind her eyes, fluttering shut when Jane was hovering above her, hand between her legs, finding some undiscovered place that Nymphia didn’t know had been there all along, waiting to be found. Jane turned Nymphia’s body into something more than it was before, transforming her irrevocably. Jane was a comet crashing through her atmosphere, and Nymphia was awe-struck, staring at the sky and watching the sparks shower. You can’t be prepared for such life-altering things, it's what makes them so devastating.

What neither of them could have predicted was the ease of what came after - the lying in bed, talking about it. The debrief. Nymphia was a bit too happily fucked, and unwilling to share the extent of her satisfaction. She was worried she would come off easy, inexperienced somehow. Jane, however, was endlessly attentive. She wanted Nymphia’s experience of the encounter, all the details - what she liked, what satisfied her the most, what she wanted more of. Her sheer desire to please was enough to pull the details out of Nymphia. She was rewarded when Jane allowed her to relive it, this time through Jane’s eyes. Jane’s gaze was far off with remembering, a smile playing at her lips as she recounted her experience of Nymphia in such erotic detail, every telling arch and shudder, and the whole thing was so overwhelmingly flattering that it sort of made Nymphia want to do it all over again.

Nymphia had known better than to pack an overnight bag. She thought she had, anyway.

Her eyes were closed and she was nearly asleep when she’d mumbled, ‘I should be going soon.”

Jane just chuckled. “You’re half asleep already.” Her fingers trailed up the curve of Nymphia’s thigh. “Just spend the night. If you want to.”

Nymphia's eyes were suddenly open, “Yeah?” Jane traced stars onto her hip.

“Mhm,” Jane hummed, eyes flickering up, then back to the curve of Nymphia’s waist.

Nymphia closed her eyes, savored in the feeling of Jane on her skin. A long moment passed.

“D’you cuddle? Or is that against the rules.”

Jane’s hum was an amused look at you asking so soon. She was already pulling Nymphia to her chest.

That first night turned into a three-day sleepover, because of course it did. Nymphia and Jane stretched themselves over the long arc of the weekend, sharing the sort of welcome, unexpected ease that you can’t put down, the kind that you’ll happily destroy your routine over and resign yourself to picking up the pieces after the fact. One weekend became another, and then occasional nights at Nymphia’s apartment with the door shut and her duvet crumpled at the end of the bed. And then they added the weekday rendezvous: Nymphia meeting Jane at her place after work on Thursday evenings, promising not to keep her up late and failing miserably, leaning her head on Jane’s shoulder in the morning as she locked the door on her way out. And then Nymphia was bleeding into Jane’s week, her Tuesdays and Wednesdays, her breakfasts and dinners, her late-night ice cream cravings and subsequent walks to 7-11. And then it was all too regular: Nymphia and Jane, Jane and Nymphia.

It's been a few months now, and there are so many things Nymphia loves about Jane.

She loves how Jane drives with one hand on her thigh, or with her fingers in her mouth. How she looks over to the passenger seat with that special look that's reserved just for Nymphia, and makes her feel like the only person she's ever wanted. She loves how she listens to her music loud, sings along when she’s drunk and tossing her hair, or when it's Sunday morning and she’s at the stove and there’s a record spinning in the living room. Nymphia loves how unabashed Jane is, how bold. How she never hesitates when it comes to the people in her life, how to be loved by Jane is to be fiercely defended by her. Nymphia loves how Jane kisses her in the middle of her sentences, especially when she's talking too much. She loves that Jane is so rough. How she can fuck her like she hates her. She loves how Jane can be so tender. How she can fuck her soft and slow, as reverent as religion. How Jane can make a mess of her, then put her back together again.

There are so many things Nymphia hates.

She hates that Jane is so impulsive, how she strikes so thoughtlessly, how she has to return to the wounds later to draw the venom out of them. How Jane is so stubborn, so set in her ways, so inflexible. How there’s two Janes - the one she’s with now, the one she is around her friends. The one who doesn’t kiss her, hardly touches her aside from a possessive arm around her shoulder or a tap on her knee. How the real Jane, Nymphia’s Jane, emerges as soon as they’re alone together, the one who will see her downturned gaze on the way home and coo what can I do, princess? Hmm? What can I do to see that pretty smile? Nymphia hates that she forgives Jane so easily, that she crumbles every time, that she loves Jane completely and entirely and beyond any measure of hurt that she could unknowingly inflict upon her.

She hates that she’s still sitting at this party, long after Jane promised they’d leave. She hates that Jane’s friends clearly like her; they laugh at Nymphia’s jokes, compliment her shoes, send knowing glances and winks across the room every time Jane so much as mentions her name. She hates how, when they ask what they are, Jane is all too quick to brush them off.

It's obvious that Nymphia’s upset by the way she pounds up the stairs, by the way she wordlessly digs through her purse for her keys, by the way the anger and the hurt and the disappointment emanate from her like poison.

“I just can’t believe they asked that,” Jane scoffs. Nymphia says nothing, gritting her teeth as she turns the key in the lock.

It should be obvious, but Jane is a bit too self-absorbed to notice.

“Like, we don’t even know what we are,” Jane says, and Nymphia feels sick, because she thought she did. “Why would she put me on the spot like that? In front of everyone?”

Nymphia pushes into the apartment, beelining for the kitchen.

“I mean, it was weird, right?” Jane continues, relentless. “Why do they need to know so bad?”

“Yeah,” Nymphia’s voice is hard, laced with venom. She chucks her keys onto the counter with a little too much force. “Why would they?”

“Right,” Jane doesn’t notice. “It would be nice if they could just let us-“

“I don’t know why they could possibly be so confused.” Nymphia interrupts, working off her thigh-highs.

Jane misses a beat. “Wait. Are you-“

“I can’t fucking imagine why they’d think that we’re together.” Nymphia lets her boots drop to the floor, one gut-wrenching smack after the other.

Jane blinks, brows knit together. Nymphia straightens up, fumbles with things on the counter that don’t need to be fumbled with. “Are you upset about this?”

“Why would I be upset?” Nymphia picks up a stray mug, sets it down again. “You just told all of your friends that we’re nothing serious. Why would I ever be upset about that, Jane?”

“I didn’t say that, Nymph,” Jane starts, already on the defense. “I said that we’re something.”

“Oh, right. My bad.” Nymphia scoffs. “We’re something. Let me know when you’re ready to illuminate me on whatever the fuck that means, Jane.”

Jane recoils at Nymphia’s profanity, unfamiliar with her frustration. She’s never seen her like this- so hurt, so ready to retaliate.

It's not funny. Jane shouldn’t laugh. She really shouldn’t, but she’s viscerally uncomfortable and horrifically unprepared for this situation, so she does anyways. “Are you really angry about this?”

The whole thing is white hot and embarrassing, and Nymphia has tears in her eyes when she turns and whips her purse to the floor.

Jane jumps. “What the fuck?” She’s wide-eyed, both hands held up in shock. “Nymphia. Are you serious right now?”

“I don’t know Jane,” Nymphia bites. “Are you serious?”

“What?”

“I kinda thought you might be,” Nymphia steps over her bag. “Y’know, because you cut me a key to your fucking apartment. I thought maybe that constituted we were more than,” she curls her fingers in the air, “something”.

Jane shakes her head, jaw tight and temple pulsing. When she speaks, it's in a lower voice, almost ashamed. “I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

“You never want to talk about it!” Nymphia’s voice cracks, a desperate wail. Jane’s mouth opens, already halfway towards defending herself until she looks at Nymphia and sees her bottom lip quivering, the spilling over of her tears. Jane looked back with a concerned, almost panicked expression, lips frozen and slightly parted.

“Do you love me, Jane? Do you even fucking like me?”

Nymphia surprises herself with the question. She’s so amped up, so high on adrenaline that she lets it all out- the culmination of weeks of words she’d bitten back, suddenly pouring forth from where they’d been collecting in a lump in her throat.

“No, seriously, do you? Because I can’t fucking tell. I think you do, because- because you say all these beautiful things, and you spend so much time with me, and you take such good fucking care of me. So you must fucking love me, right? But when your friends ask, I have to sit there and listen to you tell them that we’re something. Like it’s so fucking confusing to you. Like it's a goddamn secret. Do you know what that feels like?”

Nymphia is fully pacing now, walking the length of the kitchen over and over again. Jane follows her with wincing, pained eyes.

What Nymphia hates, more than anything, is that she doesn’t hate Jane at all. Not for any of it.

“I’m fucking in love with you, Jane, alright?” Nymphia whines, hands whipping through the air with frustration. “I’m so in love with you, and everybody fucking knows it. Your friends, my friends, my mom, everyone! But no one seems to have any goddamn clue if you love me too. And you know what? I’m not sure if I do, either.”

When she finally expels the last of the words from the hole in her heart, Nymphia looks up through her tears. She can barely stomach the sight of Jane, lips parted and wordless, unsure of what to do with the outpouring of Nymphia’s heart. She stares at her, eyes twisted in pain, then looks to the ground, like Nymphia’s words have slid off her and collected in a puddle at her feet. Nymphia just cries, a pained and exhausted whimper on her lips as she pushes past Jane and into the living room. She collapses on one end of the couch, pulling her knees to her chest and hiding her face behind one hand, hot tears sliding down her cheeks and into her mouth.

Jane stands in the center of the room with her back turned, still facing the phantom of Nymphia’s words that may very well haunt her kitchen forever. Her head is spinning, because how the fuck did this happen. Nymphia is openly sobbing behind her, and the sound is so gut-wrenching that Jane is nauseated.

Nymphia makes a horrible, shuddering gasp for air and Jane finally breaks, crossing the room and dropping to her knees on the floor where Nymphia sits. She doesn’t even look at her, just sobs, and Jane can physically feel her heart fucking breaking.

“Nymphia,” she says, placing her palm on Nymphia’s knee. “Nymph. Hey.”

Nymphia shakes her head, face contorted with tears. She flinches at Jane’s hand like it fucking hurts, and Jane winces as the guilt slices through her. She exhales a sharp puff of defeat and drops her head in hurt.

Nymphia just cries and cries, and the reality of the situation sinks in Jane’s stomach with every sob. She’s sick to her stomach with concern, worried that Nymphia might actually fucking hyperventilate, and then she’s gently begging the girl to breathe. She goes to reach for Nymphia again and pauses, scared to reach out, scared to hurt Nymphia, scared that she’ll recoil from her again. It’s then that Jane knows, for the first time in all of her life, what she wants. She knows, right as it threatens to slip out of her hands.

“I’ve never done this before.”

Jane hears her own voice. Her words hang in the air for a moment, floating like smoke between Nymphia’s shaky, shattered breaths. Jane looks up.

“This,” she says, a tentative hand on Nymphia’s knee. “What you and I have. I’ve never-”

The words are hard for Jane to stomach. They don’t pour out like Nymphia’s do. They catch in her throat, feel wrong in her mouth. She’s not sure they’ll be enough.

“I’ve never had this with anyone,” she says. “I’ve never wanted to. Not until now.”

Nymphia wipes at her eyes, shudders a bit as her breathing quiets.

“I, um,” Jane glances down, scared to look. “I don’t know how.”

Nymphia finally looks at Jane, so small and nervous and crumbling at her feet. She wants to take her hand, to show her, to be endlessly patient even if it kills her. The desire is so enormous, even now. She almost hates herself for it.

“I know I’m fucking it up,” Jane says to the floor, her voice tiny and wavering. “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve that.”

“I just need to know,” Nymphia whispers.

Nymphia swallows hard, and then Jane looks up and its so fucking harrowing, so moving, because Nymphia can see the guilt in her eyes, the desire, the glimmer of words she can’t figure out how to say. She watches as she considers, catches herself, lets it go.

“I do.” Jane says. Nymphia’s heart plummets, because she knows what she means.

“I don’t want to say it now,” Jane says. “I don’t want it to be an apology. I want you to know I mean it. Is that okay?”

Nymphia nods and Jane mutters over and over I do, I do, you know I do.

It's beautiful and tragic and overwhelming, and Nymphia wants to crash into Jane, to merge together and surpass the need for words entirely. It's too soon to know yet if it's for better or for worse, only that she does it - that she reaches out and takes Jane’s hand.

“I don’t know if I’ll be any good at it.” There’s a hint of a smile on her lips, a bit of Jane laughing at herself. “But I want to try.”

Nymphia just nods and feels more tears streaming down her cheeks, and Jane’s crying too, and then they’re crashing into each other. Nymphia is leaning down and throwing her arms around Jane, who is sitting forward and clinging to her like she’s scared to let her go. Like she caught a shooting star in her bare fucking hands.

It's a whisper against her hair, but Nymphia hears it. “Can I try again?”

Nymphia could hate herself for it for all of forever. She’s prepared to. Jane doesn’t know what she’s doing, and she doesn't either. Nymphia nods anyway.

It's a new world, one of their own making. It's unexplored, uncharted, and they’re venturing into it together, hand in shaking hand. It's dangerous. She’s doing it anyway. She might hate herself for it. It might be the bravest thing she’s ever done.

[cottoncandy-cult]

Yami Sukehiro X Pregnant Wife! Reader

(Y/n) sighed softly, hand rubbing her swollen belly as she made her way down the stone halls of the black bull's base. Her back was aching, the baby was do in a months time and she couldn't wait for all this pressure inside of her to be released. "Hey (Y/n), you ok? Do you need help down the stairs?" Asta had come around the corner, noticing the heavily pregnant woman and her obvious discomfort. "No thanks, Henry put those handrails up so I should be fine. I just can't keep laying in bed, my back is so tense." She had her free hand on her hip, trying to arch her back some to relieve it as she walked. "If you say so, I know you aren't supposed to take real baths when you're like that but maybe Captain Yami knows something that could help. He has been reading a lot when he goes to the bathroom, he has like a parenting book in each stall." Asta chuckled, smiling when he saw his captain's wife started to giggle. As unserious as the captain could be, Yami had been doing his best to prepare. He wasn't necessarily easily embarrassed, just naturally private about certain things. "He should be back from the captain's meeting at the capital soon, Fenral went with him so it shouldn't be long now." Asta continued on his way, the woman smiling with a nod and thanks before making her way down the steps towards the kitchen.

She was really wanting a banana muffin; she didn't want nuts in it though. Just a nice, soft and fluffy banana muffin. The thought had her belly rumbling, her waddled steps getting faster. "Hey Charmy, can we have muffins? I could really use something banana." When she approached the couch Magna was quick to stand and help her sit, being as devoted to her husband as he was Magna took great care of his captain's wife in his absence. "Coming up! I was just craving something sweet!" Charmy was quick to gather the sheep cooks, though it was clear banana muffins weren't the only things on the menu. To distract herself from her growing hunger, (Y/n) settled on a nice cool glass of milk. Before long Charmy had laid out several baked goods, while she had originally only been craving banana muffins the site of glazed honey banana buns had her mouth watering. That was where she was when Yami found her, her legs swinging happily in her seat as she ate a baked apple cinnamon roll. She had been going down the line, trying one of everything she could. Refilling her milk when needed, she happily enjoyed the warm and soft desserts.

"This looks good, you enjoying yourself darlin?" Yami sat next to her, kissing her cheek in greeting as he put out his cigarette. (Y/n) nodded with her mouth full, her cheeks full of soft goodness. Swallowing her bite, she looked up at her husband, wide smile on her face. "You've gotta try some of this, the cinnamon banana bread is so good." She took a drink of her milk once more, watching as Yami smiled at her from the corner of her eye. "Yeah? I guess I could use a snack before dinner." He took her advice and grabbed some of the bread, taking a bite of it with a soft hum. "Yeah, it's pretty good. I've tried something like this from the bar I drink at in the capital sometimes, but theirs is pretty dry." He tapped his fingers on the table, Vannessa happily fixing him a drink as she snacked on a cupcake. They all often took snack breaks together, it would normally start with one or two of them but then it would slowly grow as conversations were had. Yami had slipped an arm around his wife's waist, large hand sprawling across her stomach to feel the pressure of their child against his palm. He was always quietly affectionate with her; he was never obscene with it, but he never failed to make their relationship and his own feelings known.

His ring never came off his finger, she had heard from Magna how Yami put off gambling and worked more to buy their rings and pay for the wedding. That conversation had killed any anxiety she had about their engagement and their next big step in life. Her own hand came to rest over his, gently squeezing as she finished her current snack and snuggled up to him. Giggling as some of the younger squad members playfully gagged over their display, Yami simply rolling his eyes as he took another bite of his bread. "Julius wanted me to give you somethin' for the baby, he was out wizard watching again and saw this weird little stuffed animal and thought it was cute for some reason." Yami pulled out a stuffed animal, it was an odd amalgamation of animals. An otter body, a beaver tail, webbed feet and duck bill. The look of it had (Y/n) laughing, her hand coming up to cover her mouth as her eyes shut. "He is so ugly oh my god." She shakily took the stuffed animal, flipping it around to look it over though her giggles never stopped. "He is so ugly it's almost cute, where do you even come up with something like this? I didn't know alcoholics could sew." That comment made her husband snort, chuckling to himself as he shook his head. He did admit that the stuffed animal was quite odd, Julius in general had a very particular taste in items if William's mask was anything to go buy. "You know Julius, he somehow manages to find the most outlandish items… when he isn't making them himself." He sipped his beer, running his hand through her hair as she continued to look over the stuffed animal with a curious stare. "Can't say he isn't original…"

"I'm gonna go put this in the nursery so it doesn't get lost, if I eat too much more, I won't have room for lunch." She says this while picking up chocolate chip banana muffin, waddling her way to the steps as Yami watched her with a chuckle. Of course he stood to follow, finishing his drink and popping a whole muffin in his mouth. He wanted to enjoy his time with her today since it was interrupted by a captains meeting, so he followed her up to the nursery and made sure she didn't lose her balance on the steps. Until finally he leaned against the door frame, watching her place the stuffed animal on top of a small dresser that already had several on top of it. "Just one more month, you ready to pop yet?" Yami chuckled, walking in as he wrapped his arms around her waist and her own arms came to rest over his. "Mhm, I feel like I have a boulder in my body, my back aches and I have to pee all the time." She sighed softly and tilted her head back, closing her eyes as he shifted slightly to gently lift her belly with his large hands. Relief flooded her features as she hummed softly and gently squeezed his hand, she loved when he did this as it was one of the few times she felt relief these days. "I see, gives us another reason to count down the days then huh?" His thumbs stroked the curve of her stomach as he supported her body with ease, he used to work out just to get her attention and feed his ego, but it was really paying off now. "I'm kinda scared to be honest, if this baby is anything like you it's gonna be a giant." She giggled, her thumb stroking the top of his hand. As the wife of a magic knight captain, she knew her baby would be delivered by an experienced doctor, but she just knew by how heavy the baby set in her stomach that this was gonna be one hell of a birth. "I mean, at least we know the baby is gonna be healthy? Everything will be ok, the doctors aren't gonna let you suffer." Yami kissed the top of her head, having already gone over the procedure with Owen several times and so he knew there were things for pain she'd be given to reduce the stress on her and the baby. "I know, I trust Owen. I just know it's gonna wreck my body and I'm not excited for it." She sighed softly, turning her head to nuzzle the side of his neck.

"Yeah, can't blame you there. But once this baby is out, all you'll have to do is lay back and we'll handle the rest. I mean, you'll still need to nurse the baby, but we'll make sure you have time to rest." Yami pressed a kiss to her forehead, doing his best to soothe her anxiety. "I know you all will, we're the black bulls after all and we take care of each other." (Y/n) responded with a smile, she had confidence in her squad and knew she'd simply have to have faith. "You wanna go sit outside for a bit until lunch, the weather is nice, and the fresh air will do you good. You've been couped up inside all day." He swayed softly, basking in her natural body heat and breathing in her scent. He had his own anxiety about the birth, but he knew he'd just have to have faith that everything would work out. "Sure, the breeze through the window has felt nice all day. I wanna see how the garden is doing." Yami carefully lowered her belly, moving to lift her up into his arms as he carries her out the room. (Y/n) would get embarrassed at first when he would do this type of thing, but now she was just glad to snuggle with him and be off her feet without being stuck in bed. He brought her out back to the garden, sitting in a chair in the center of the garden and resting her on his lap. She sat across his legs, leaning against his chest as she lifted her head to look over the colorful flowers. One of her husband's large hands rubbed her back, large fingertips gently pressing into her muscles and rubbing out the tension as best he could.

He couldn't have her lay face down for a proper back massage, so he had to settle for trying to rub her back when she was sitting up. "Charmy has done really good at taking care of the flowers, all that experience growing fruits and veggies must really pay off for her." (Y/n) spoke with a smile, she loved her garden but once she got a bit deeper into pregnancy, she couldn't care for it the way she would have liked so she had to ask Charmy to take care of it until she was able to get back out there. "Yeah, she's pretty good in the garden and kitchen. We really lucked out with the variety in this squad." Yami chuckled, leaning against the back of the seat as he tilted his head back and closed his eyes. A soft warm breeze flowed past them, the sweet scent of the flowers carried on the wind and reinforced the calming scene around them. Yami never expected any of this, he had never thought much on love until his wife came into his life. Now here he was, married with a baby on the way and a squad of misfits that would always have his back. Life was turning out better than he expected, and he wasn't about to let this kind of peace slip through his fingers any time soon.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Reptile/Syzith hc with a gender neutral partner who can respawn after death and he's not aware when it hoppemd? Like it's not something they told him be sure they didn't anticipate to die but one day they die in an accident. They stay dead for a bit but eventually 'load' back in and respawn completely unharmed as if nothing happened like it's a video game.

Gifted with an ability to seemingly never stay dead might’ve been a power many would make a wish for, but you would always say it was because they were looking at it from a surface level, seeing it as something for what they wanted it to be rather then acknowledging it for what it actually was; a curse. They’d never be able to comprehend the catastrophic consequences that comes with the ability, nor would ever understand how much it takes away from you until it was far too late.

Not to mention the toll it takes on your mental psyche.

To you, it wasn’t necessarily something you’d boldly put out there in the open nor admit to having pride in, for upon every time you’ve come back from the dead, it had left you feeling less and less human in every sense of the word.

You did feel some guilt when you actively decided to not tell Syzoth about your powers, seeing as you weren’t put in a situation where you could demonstrate actual proof of your ability. Yet due to this lack of foresight and preparation, it made the accident all the more heartbreaking for your reptiloid lover, who felt as though his last chance to being happy was ripped away from him in a violent manor; that of which left him feeling a sense of desperation to save you anyway he could.

Syzoth felt as though he was the one who died the night of the attack, he wasn’t that far away from the scene when it happened, but then why did Syzoth felt as though he were miles away as he watched with vengeful eyes and his heart in his throat. He tired to close the distance between him, you and your supposed killer but as he managed to make it to your side, the kill had cowardly ran off into the shadows; leaving a poor weeping Syzoth to pathetically scoop you up into his arms, cringing at how cold you were within his arms that felt all forms or wrong to him.

He didn’t want to believe it, not one bit. Someone or something out there didn’t want him to be happy and wanted to see how far they could break him. So to test that theory, they just had to take you from him didn’t they? Syzoth wished he had died instead and would probably ask for someone, anyone to kill him so that he may be with you in whatever afterlife you were currently residing in, waiting for him.

However those who were made aware of your abilities from firsthand experience should try and hold Syzoth from doing something rash before you returned. They’d look out for Syzoth on your behalf, much to his distain, but none of them were willing to risk the reaction you’d have should one of them ever have to tell you that Syzoth died to join you in the afterlife. After all it was only a matter of time before you’d respawned and it was up to them to keep Syzoth moving until then.

Unfortunately for them and Syzoth, it would be a long while before you finally managed to respawn again, meaning that you were genuinely dead for a bit and at first you thought that your powers had been taken from you, but it wasn’t long before you found out that was completely and utterly not the case as you found yourself with a face full of life and no visible wounds that you could see. So naturally you went to find Syzoth and tell him the truth.

Now imagine Syzoth’s surprise when he caught sight of you, alive and unharmed. The poor guy thought he was seeing your ghost or believed that his mind was messing with him into believing his most deepest of delusions. So right off the bat he was both startled and skeptical at the sight of you, thinking it was some darker forces at work who wanted to use your death as a way to manipulate him. His hurt was still fresh and Syzoth would very much like to not be reminded of his losses, especially during the times where he is most vulnerable and susceptible for manipulation.

Syzoth: who are you and why do you wear my lovers face?! Are you the one who took their life?!

You: woah Syzoth! Allow me to explain-

Syzoth: there is nothing that is needed to be explained! Reveal your true self before things gets messy! For I will avenge my lovers death.

You: I will not fight you Syzoth!

Syzoth: that’s too bad because I’ve been needing an excuse to start one.

You: you liked being cuddled up against me at night because you say I make the nightmares go away, that I make everything okay by putting you back together again piece by piece. You’d like to tell me that I’m your better half but i would always counter and say that you’re my better half.

Syzoth: …y/n?

You: You’ve always have been my better half Syzoth because ever since we’ve been dating I’ve been hiding apart of myself from you that I am ashamed of.

Syzoth: and whatever could you ashamed of, my love?

You: my power, my power is what I am ashamed of my beloved, for I can’t stay dead not matter what for I always seem to wake up with no dire wounds to speak of. Which is why you can see me as clearly as you do now.

Syzoth: you’re actually alive?

You: yeah. I’m sorry for lying to you my sweet.

Syzoth: you need not apologise my love, to know that you are still will me is all I ever wished for nowadays.

That night and every other night after Syzoth clings to you just that little bit tighter and stays by your side, refusing to ever part from you for long periods of time.

[after-witch]

Just Don’t Look [Yandere Diluc x Reader]

Title: Just Don’t Look [Yandere Diluc x Reader]

Synopsis: Diluc is a perfect gentleman. He must be. Because if he isn’t, you don’t think you can handle it.

For Horrorfest request: Diluc and "I'm scared to close my eyes; I'm scared to open them."

Word Count: 870

notes: Yandere, kidnapped reader, bondage, noncon touching

Dawn Winery is a beautiful estate.

And you can’t complain about the company, either.

Diluc Ragnvindr is the perfect gentlemen. He pulls out your chair before every meal he attends--almost every dinner, and sometimes he stays long enough in the mornings for breakfast. He inquires about your day with the utmost of sincerity, even though it is almost always the same (you read, you embroidered, you took a bath).

He ensures that his staff treats you with respect and gentleness, never raising their voices or throwing furrowed brows your way. They  help you get dressed in clothes that are softer and finer than anything you’ve ever owned. They prepare your baths, filled with sweet smelling soaps and oils. They fetch you things to do, if Diluc has permitted it.

You’re treated so well here. Like royalty, some might say. Kindly. Finely. Like some precious jewel that must be handled with the highest of grace and care.

But… and there’s always a but, when you are treated so well.

But.

Diluc Ragnvindr won’t let you leave the beautiful, spacious Dawn Winery.

The doors are locked, when he is gone. When he is here, too. Just in case.

The windows are closed, and when they are open to air out the rooms, they are guarded.

You’re never given clothing that might be suitable for out-of-doors. The shoes on your feet are thin and delicate. They would rip on the first bit of rougher terrain. Your gowns are ornate--they would snag, you’re sure, on the first branch you encountered.

Even your nightgowns are flimsy. Thin, frilly white dresses that touch the floor. You feel so dramatic when you walk in them. You have your own bedroom--Diluc does not expect you to sleep in his bed, because he is a gentlemen, he reminds you; you remind yourself of this, too. At night, he deigns to tuck you in. Before he leaves, he presses a kiss to your forehead. Sometimes, he takes your hand and you feel his warmth--just an edge of unnatural heat to it--and listen as he bids you good night.

Sweet dreams.

And they often are; you’ve discovered, quickly, how being in a secure place gives you deeper dreams than any thready, shaky dreams from the nights when you slept on the streets.

The streets seem far away now. Did you ever really roam them? Your world has become compressed, limited. Simple and expected and routine.

He keeps you on a strict curfew, and no, you are not permitted to walk the grounds. It’s unsafe, he says. He’s not necessarily lying, which makes it harder to disagree. You’ve been in the world. Maybe you weren’t fighting monsters or foreign troops, but you were fighting things just as hard. Hunger. Homelessness. People who wanted to hurt you.

You were safe inside, and he wasn’t wrong. That didn't necessarily make him right, but…

The maids are instructed to inform him of any suspicious behavior, which they do. They are your guardians, his eyes, when he’s not here. Can you blame them? He is their employer, and you know he treats them well. There is loyalty earned through kindness, you think. The thought sometimes scares you.

Any attempts to get them on your side are met with thin frowns or, in the case of Adelinde, a soft yet stern lecture on how ungrateful you’re being.

She’s right. You are ungrateful.

You’re well fed, well dressed, well kept. You never have to worry about where you’re going to sleep or what you’re going to eat. You never have to keep watch for men who might hurt you, rob you, rape you, kill you. No one yells at you. No one hits you.

You shouldn’t be ungrateful. You shouldn’t complain. You shouldn’t run your fingers over the locks on the doors, you shouldn’t try to creep out of your bedroom at night to see if, by some chance, someone has kept the way out unlocked. You shouldn’t do these things because for once in your life, you are being treated well.

Well, well, well--and in a cage.

But it’s gilded, isn’t it? And that makes all the difference.

So yes. Yes. Diluc is a perfect gentlemen. He pulls your chair out before every dinner. He ties you to the bed when  you tell him you want to leave. He gently asks you about your day. He locks your bedroom door at night. He never lets you go hungry. He gives you slippers so you won’t run from him. He dresses you in fine clothes worth more than anything you’d ever make on the streets. He kisses you goodnight on the forehead, chaste, safe.

Diluc… is a perfect gentlemen. Above everything else, that is what matters. Surely?

It must be. Because if it isn’t. If Diluc is not a perfect gentlemen, if you cannot ignore the locks on the doors and the invisible chains keeping you tethered to the estate…

Perhaps velvet ribbons would not be enough to hold you.

Perhaps the frowns of the maids would not be enough to dissuade you.

Perhaps you would scream and scream and scream, instead of meekly accepting the life he has given you.

It’s best not to think about it.

[mar3ggiata]

professional help, introduction.

simon riley x original character.

trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault, mentions of rape, mentions of death, trauma, sexual themes, swearing, use of alcohol and drugs, mafia - type organisations, eating disorders, depression, heavy mentions of gruesome death, abortions.

song to listen to when reading this: Dolcenera, Fabrizio de Andrè.

Black that carries away, that carries away the way,

black not seen in an entire lifetime,

so sweetblack, black, black that beats you up, that knocks down the doors.

The first time he ever saw her, she was crying. No, not necessarily crying, she was in a weird state of shock and terror. She was angry, more than anything. She looked like a demonic bunny, she was sweet and gentle but the look of pure rage on her face nearly scared him. His captain asked him to give her a ride to her house, it wasn't safe for her to drive in that condition. He thought she was his daughter he never knew about. Take one of the cars, he said, would you please get her out of here? He sensed something strange in his voice. Worry or, perhaps, guilt. What happened? Who was she, was she in danger? Why? The captain turned towards her, slightly slouching to get at her eye level. He couldn't really hear what he was saying, something along the lines of 'I trust him' and 'you don't worry, he'll get you home'. She looked at him like she was gonna jump on him and eat him alive, bite his neck and rip his skull open. Then she looked up at Ghost like he was going to be her next victim, right after his captain. She stood silent, fists curled with rage at her sides. She was small, short. She had a bag with her, large enough to fit a laptop. Did she work there? She was wearing smart attire, a blazer jacket a turtleneck, shiny black shoes. Was she a doctor? A lawyer? She's too young to be a lawyer, how old is she, 22? 24?

Black of bad luck, that kills and moves on,

black like the misfortune of making a den where there’s no moon, moon,

black of bitterness.

'This way' that's all he said. She was following him, dead serious. This is what weird nightmares that hunt you for the entire week look like. She walked with her back straight, she walked fast. Who is this, he continued to ask himself. He couldn't ask her for sure, he didn't want to die just yet. How come I never saw you? What did you do?

'Are you alright?' he finally asked when they approached one of the black trucks in the parking lot of the base. She spoke for the first time. Her voice was of someone who had been screaming and crying. 'Drive' she said, her voice raspy but her tone steady and firm. He watched her close the car door on the passenger side, she kept looking at the base behind them. Is someone after you? What happened, are you being followed is that why is not safe for you to get home by yourself? He did as she said, without replying. Her eyes stood fixated on the base that kept getting farther away from them as they took off, driving towards the city center. If she lived there, it would probably take them about 20 minutes to get there, through the desert. She seemed to slightly relax once they were deep in the deserted street, going just 10km/h over the speed limit. No one was on the road. She had her hands pressed between her thighs, to prevent them from shaking. She looked straight ahead of her. If he didn't kept glancing at her, he could have sworn she was a ghost.

He never managed to know what had happened, nor who she was. She vanished. No one ever spoke about that evening and he never saw her again. That is, until today.

notes: he could have sworn she was a Ghost babyyyy. brace yourselves this story will be long, I have a lot to say. my name is mare, first of all, i use she/her pronouns and english is not my first language!! I have no idea how to work with Tumblr, please bare with me I'm new, I don't know anything, teach me... the story is ongoing, however I have many chapters prepared. also, everything is fictional, every place, person, mission, everyone is fake. if you see similarities with the real world, it's a coincidence. these characters are not real. there will be a lot of detail, new people, characters I made up along with the original ones and notes at the end of each chapter. I do not consent to this work being re-published or translated. if you don't like how I portray the characters, don't read the story. if I make mistakes, do tell me. please read the trigger warnings because it might get violent and I am not responsible for your media consumption. the main character is an original character which I created, she has a name and is described physically in detail. enjoyy.

notes: song concept: "Dolcenera" is about a tryst that never came about due to the disruption of a major flood, such as occurred in Genoa in 1970. The term "dolcenera" refers to the dual nature of water - sweet when it is pure and life-giving, and black when it is fouled and out of control as in a flood.

[yanderes-galore]

Could I request a yandere arkhamverse catwoman concept? -🎂

Yes! Catwoman could be fun to write ^^ I used the Arkham wiki for her personality and appearance but this could probably go for any Catwoman. Takes place during no specific game.

Yandere! Arkham!Catwoman (Selina Kyle) Concept

Pairing: Platonic -> Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Flirtatious behavior, Manipulation, Kidnapping, Blood, Protective/Possessive, Violence, Forced relationship.

Selina seems like she could be an interesting but docile yandere.

I say this as compared to most DC yanderes originating in Gotham she isn't really violent.

She is neither villain or hero and goes her own path.

While most would kill to keep their darling to themselves, Selina does not.

As a whole she avoids fatal force, stating she isn't psychopathic.

She steals things, that's how she's survived in this world.

She doesn't need murder to do it.

Like the Harley concept you requested I'm going to explore her going from platonic to romantic.

Selina isn't that bad of an ally when she decides to help.

Maybe how you meet is you're someone who helps Batman.

As in, maybe you're part of the Bat family in someway or just an ally.

Not necessarily as a hero, you could be a detective or something similar.

That way you and Selina would have crossed paths multiple times.

You are aware of the history Batman has with Catwoman.

Despite her being a criminal she can be helpful as a spy.

As a result your communication with each other may be sharing information to aid Batman.

Selina is a naturally flirtatious yandere.

As a platonic she could be teasing but would hold her flirting off for Batman.

Selina seems like she'd be okay as a friend with you.

Things between you primarily starts with exchanging information or small chats.

At first you're hesitant to converse with her.

Yet she eases your worries with her charm.

She'll be well behaved when you speak, she promises.

Your friendship with each other is strictly business related for awhile.

Nothing forced, it's mutual, especially when you two start to speak more outside of business.

Soon you two start to interact away from Batman.

You try not to let Batman know that you've become friends with the burglar.

Honestly, a friendship with Selina seems relatively normal.

She has a tendency to show up at strange times to speak with you as friends.

You could say she's stalking you... she is but she'd never tell you.

Selina is someone who plays her cards right.

She doesn't mind taking risks when it comes to you, like how it's a risk to hunt you down after a robbery.

Especially if you are an ally of Batman.

She picks her words around you and is manipulative at times.

As a friend she'll be simply looking out for you.

When she has time after one of her clients she'll hunt down your location and just watch.

If she feels up to it she prepares a conversation and meets up with you.

She's mostly the type to watch over you and doesn't drag you into many things.

She tries to respect your personal life and give you privacy.

But if you're out and about then... surely you won't mind if your friend follows, yeah?

You won't notice her anyways.

It's when she develops the more romantic type of feelings that she can become more intense.

Selina would be an intense romantic yandere.

Her friendly teasing over time becomes playful flirting.

You try to tell her to knock it off but she doesn't entirely want to listen.

She's stubborn.

Her occasional feelings of wanting to jump in to help you turns into something more sadistic.

Now she feels like getting her claws bloody for those who try to take what she feels is hers.

Speaking of taking what's hers, Selina would be on the more possessive side as a romantic yandere.

Cats can get rather territorial, no?

Plus, maybe she's even had eyes on you since you two became friends.

The perfect jewel for her collection...

She just loves jewels.

If someone threatened you she'd step in regardless of how she feels.

Sometimes you have to get your claws dirty... but she'd never kill them.

Batman can do whatever he wishes with them, she's done what she wants with them.

While Selina isn't the most violent Gotham yandere, she'd certainly kidnap you.

She's a thief who takes what she wants.

You happen to be someone she wants once she realizes she loves you.

She stalks you from the darkness for a long time before pouncing.

She apologizes for betraying her trust but hopefully you forgive her reasoning.

Even if you didn't, she doesn't care.

Once she has you she's flirty yet caring.

She confesses the reason she hid you away was because she loves you.

She isn't sure why she didn't see it before.

She'll keep you in a room lined with her favorite pieces.

You look perfect in the middle on that bed she's picked.

She'll even steal you a few gifts to give you.

Her little treat to you....

She even admits she's been jealous of the people you're around at times.

She wishes she made them blind with her claws.

Essentially, once she has you she confesses what she's been doing since she's known you.

She should've done this sooner.

It's thanks to her you're safe and thanks to her that you were able to help Batman.

She feels there should be... compensation?

She didn't really wish to resort to manipulation and kidnapping...

But the cat knows what she wants when she sees it.

You're the best prize she's stolen yet.

"Oh, baby, don't give me such a look. You've skillfully stolen my heart, it's only fair I get to have you in return, isn't it?"

[stromuprisahat]

Both show and book Darkling is good, but I think I like the book version a bit more because he's more complicated. What you said is true about the book version. He doesn't want to love Alina, but he ends up catching feelings for her anyway. In book 3, I think his feelings for her become borderline obesession and a twisted version of love. Baghra told him in TDITW that she would destroy a hundred villages if it meant keeping him safe. That's her version of "I love you." I honestly think Sasha is confused by these feelings and just doesn't know how to respond to them

note: Ask was sent before season two came out. (probably the post refered to)

His mother's influence certainly played a part. Another would be his age, all that he's been through and lack of other lasting emotional attachments. His love never had a chance to manifest in some pure, innocent way.

Baghra raised him to have ties to no one but her. While preparing him to survive in any way she could think of, she ironically denied him one of the basic human propensities- he wasn't allowed to naturally socialize. All interaction with "outsiders" were about caution, sizing up and possible gain or loss. He was taught to expect a transaction. Not even his mother's love was unconditional, and I have a feeling he might consider the concept a foolishness.

When you look at the outline of his past, he learnt he'll lose everyone he might grow attached to, and not necessarily to old age. How many times did he have to watch his loved ones murdered, killed by accident or illness, grow distant or outright betray him? No wonder he clings to his mother even once he's aware she's bad for him. No wonder he sort of wants Alina only to himself. Why would she try to abandon him, if he were the only thing she has? He, himself knows the alternative would be being alone and Alina doesn't really want that any more than he does.

Her immortality ensures the likelihood of loosing her to death is as little as it can be, so he's free to deal with other, less violent "risks".

I'm gonna admit I'd be much more sympathetic to Alina's situation, were he not right about harmfulness of her relationship with Malyen and her clinging to her past in general. I'd also say his aversion to Nikolai isn't only about jealousy. That can of worms is deeper than simple "He proposed to my girl!".

[ghostofskywalker]

hellooo! i'm really excited about your winter ficlets and wanted to request something!

what about “I don’t think either of us are qualified for this, but sure, go for it” with tech? i'm really wondering what he wouldn't be qualified for. 🤭 and i don't mind about the reader's pronouns, you can write what you're up to!

hello! this was such an interesting and fun prompt for him, i hope you enjoy my interpretation!

words: 840

summary: omega's in a bad mood, and neither you nor your boyfriend know what to do about it.

note: the mechanics of this fic rely on the idea that when they're on Ord Mantell, the batch rent an apartment so that they're not on the ship all the time.

Not Qualified

clone troopers masterlist || request a winter ficlet

The sound of Omega’s door slamming shut echoed throughout the tiny apartment, and you could have sworn you heard some of the plates in the cabinet rattle. Not sure what to do, you looked at Tech. “Any idea what that’s about?”

Looking as confused as you felt, he shook his head. “I understand that Omega may be worried that Hunter, Wrecker, and Echo haven’t returned by now, but this behavior is far from normal for her.”

“Do you want to check on her and make sure everything is okay?”

He looked at you like you had just suggested that he wrestle a gundark with his bare hands. “What?”

“Someone should check on Omega,” you said, a confused look on your face. “She clearly needs to talk to someone right now.”

“What about you?”

Your eyes widened. “I don’t know how qualified I am for something like this. Usually bounty hunters can just kill their problems, and that’s definitely not what needs to happen here. Besides, you’re her brother.”

“Look, I don’t think either of us are qualified for this,” Tech said. “But we should still go for it.”

As you looked at his face, you could see a glimpse of something in his eyes that you didn’t quite recognize at first, until it came to you. Tech was nervous. It made sense of course, because Hunter, Wrecker, and Echo had embraced their newfound role of “big brother” a little easier than he did, because he had always been a little bit less social than the rest of the crew. Hells, it had taken you what felt like forever to finally get him to realize that you liked him, and the relationship you had with him was still just barely out of the friend zone. You knew it had to be nerve-wracking right now, to be the only one of his brothers here and having a issue that can’t necessarily be solved with cold hard facts, and you reached out to take his hand. “Come on, let’s go together.”

A gruff “come in” sounded through the door moments after you knocked, and the door opened to reveal Omega laying face down on her bed, with the plush Aiwha you had gotten for her at a market laying haphazardly on the floor (which was likely launched into the air from the momentum of her throwing herself on the bed).

You were definitely not prepared for this, but it would be much worse to just turn around and leave, so you took a few steps into the room. “I can tell that something is bothering you honey,” you said gently. “Do you want to talk about it? It may make you feel better.”

She pulled her body upwards off the bed, and you could see the way her eyes shined with tears. “When is everyone else going to come back?” she asked, and your heart broke.

Growing up where she did and being watched over exclusively by Kaminoans clearly affected her, and now that she had found something of a family it had to be hard to watch some of them leave. Even if it was simply for a mission, part of the team leaving meant that she still had to spend more time without the people she cared so deeply about. “I don’t know,” you admitted softly. “But they won’t be gone forever, I know that.”

Tech looked like he was going to open his mouth to say something, but you shot him a quick glare. Yes, you knew that every mission meant the chance of serious injury or death, and Omega probably knew that too, but technicalities were not what she needed to hear right now.

Thankfully, he seemed to get the message. “Yes, Hunter, Echo, and Wrecker will be back as soon as they can,” Tech said, and you watched as Omega ran over to him. He definitely looked a little shocked as his sister threw her arms around him, and you could see the way he looked to you for help. You mimed wrapping your arms around something to give him a little hint of what to do in this moment, and he nodded quickly.

You watched as Tech followed your hint, and you could see Omega’s tears start to stop. You knew that her heartbreak wasn’t something that could be fixed right away (or maybe at all), but with some time (and maybe a little bit of ice cream), you might be able to help make this a little less difficult for her.

It was impossible to ignore the smile that crept over your face at the sight of Omega clutching onto Tech like he was going to disappear, simply because he looked really surprised when it first happened. You had a feeling though, that he would be settling into his newfound role as big brother a little easier from now on.

And maybe, later you would get to gleefully inform him that he was wrong about neither of you being qualified to help in this particular situation.

- the end -

i no longer have a taglist! if you're interested in being notified when i post, you can follow my library blog @ghostofskywalker-library and turn on notifications!

[munson-blurbs]

Welcome to the Family (Dad!Eddie x Mom! Reader)

The baby is here the baby is here THE BABY IS HERE!!!

Warnings: pregnancy, labor, mention of epidural, some language

WC: 2.3k

A/N: Please give me suggestions for Part 5! What do you want to see from the little Munson family?

Part I | Part 2 | Part 3 

Taglist: @dylanmunson @tayhar811 @princess-eddie​ @briasnow-blog @eddielives1986

--

Baby Munson’s due date is October 25. That morning, you and Eddie wake up—or rather, Eddie wakes up, as you barely slept. Your back is killing you, your feet are aching, and the baby seems to love dancing on your bladder at 4 AM. Your husband kisses your forehead and places a hand on your bump.

“Today’s the day,” his sleepy eyes sparkle. You want to meet his enthusiasm, but you’re too tired, too sore, and to be frank, too cranky.

“Maybe. First babies tend to take their time,” you remind him of what the OB-GYN told you. You shift under the covers, trying to maneuver your way to a sitting position. It’s too much and you start to cry.

Eddie’s used to this by now; between your mood swings and the sheer frustration of being nine months pregnant, you’ve been nothing short of an emotional mess. He wipes the tears from your cheeks and lets you cry.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Let it out, and I’ll help you up so we can eat some breakfast,” he says softly. “I’m so proud of you for growing this beautiful baby. I just want him or her here with us so you can be comfortable again. And, of course, for all the baby cuddles.”

You smile at the thought of your newborn snuggled up on your chest, or Eddie rocking the baby to sleep while singing a lullaby. There will be no shortage of diapers to change or bottles to warm, but you’re looking at the silver linings: cute little outfits, teeny tiny fingernails, and of course, watching Eddie get to be a dad.

“There’s my favorite smile,” he presses a kiss to your lips. “Ready for some food?”                                                    

You nod as he helps you sit up. Taking a deep breath, you prepare yourself to stand. “I feel like I’m 100 years old,” you mutter crossly.

“You’re the sexiest 100-year-old I’ve ever seen,” Eddie teases and you roll your eyes.

The two of you munch on cereal as Eddie gives you a rundown of his day. “I’ll be at the store from 9 to 5, and then I’ll be right home. You need anything, even if you think it might be a false alarm, just call me. All my employees are on standby in case I need a shift covered.”

“Got it. So, don’t have a DIY home birth.” You give him a thumbs-up. “I know the drill, Eds. I’ll be here watching trash TV and eating ice cream like a good pregnant lady.” Your maternity leave started last week, allowing you to stay off your feet.

He flicks your hand and places his own on top of it. “That’s my girl!” 

~

There’s no need to call Eddie that day, or the day after, until it’s Halloween and you’re still pregnant. It falls on a Saturday this year, which means that Eddie is scheduled to work. He’s ambivalent about going in today with you six days overdue, but you brush off his concerns with a wave of your hand.

“At this rate, I don’t think this baby is ever coming out,” you joke, then poke your belly. “You’re too comfy in there!”

“Are you sure?” Eddie asks, his eyes filled with concern.

“Positive. The record store isn’t so far away, and I’ll let you know if I feel even the slightest contraction.” You’re saying this to put his mind at ease, but the truth is, you started feeling some contractions earlier this morning. Your doctor said that contractions don’t necessarily mean labor is happening that day, so you’re waiting until they get closer together.

What Eddie doesn’t know won’t kill him, right?

~

“Still no baby, Munson?” Steve asks as he and Andy stride into the store for their weekly excursion.

“No baby?” Andy repeats. He’s been speaking in one- to two-word sentences, and his favorite thing to say is…whatever his dad’s just said.

“Sorry, bulldozer,” Eddie reaches over to tickle Andy. “No new cousin for you yet.”

“Y/N must be completely miserable. Nancy was only two days overdue with this guy, and I thought she was gonna bite my head off.”

“If she doesn’t start labor soon, she might kill me,” Eddie sighs. “Last night she started crying because she was angry that I got her pregnant.” 

Steve laughs. “Sounds about right.” He puts Andy down, who immediately runs over to a box of cassettes, knocking them over. The tot wails and flops down on the floor.

“Hey, buddy, it’s all good,” Eddie reassures him calmly. “Didja get hurt?” Andy shakes his head. “Ah, just a little scared, then?”

“Scared,” he whimpers, but his crying slows.

“I bet you scared the tapes, too!” Eddie picks up a cassette and talks to it. “Did the big Andy monster attack you?” he scrunches up his nose and Andy laughs through his tears.

“Help Uncle Eddie put them back, okay?” Steve nudges him, and Andy clumsily places the tapes back in the box.

Crisis averted, Eddie thinks. And then the phone rings.

Steve’s eyebrows shoot up as Eddie runs to grab it. “H-hello? I mean, Record Emporium, this is—”

“Eddie, I need you to come home.” His heart soars as he hears your voice on the other end of the line. “I’ve been having contractions, and now they’re 15 minutes apart.”

How does she sound so calm? He wonders silently. “Okay, babe. I’ll let someone know I need my shift covered, and I’ll be home as soon as I can.” His heart races. By this time tomorrow, he could be a father. He could have a little baby sleeping in his arms.

“Drive safely,” you remind him. “Don’t want you getting into an accident. I need you by my side so I can squeeze your hand till it breaks.” 

“Okay. I-I will. I love you,” he says before hanging up the phone.

“You good?” Steve calls from across the store, making sure Andy doesn’t cause any more damage.

“Harrington,” Eddie announces, “it’s baby time.”

~ 

You wouldn’t mind having a nice, quiet ride to the hospital, a calm before the storm, but Eddie asks you a million questions during the 30-minute drive.

“How are you feeling?”

“Are you okay?”

“Am I driving too fast?”

“Am I driving too slow?”

“Are you having another contraction?”

“What do they, like, feel like?”

“Eddie!” you finally snap, “if you don’t stop asking questions, I will have this baby in the car out of pure spite.” He closes his mouth, and you feel bad. “Why don’t we listen to music?” you suggest kindly, popping in a Black Sabbath cassette.

“Is this music good for the baby?”

“Eddie, I swear to God, I’ll start pushing right now.”

~

Eddie calms down once you’ve gotten situated in the room and the nurses can tend to you. He plops down in a chair and takes a deep breath. He’s already called your parents and Wayne, all of whom are on their way to meet their grandbaby.

The doctors and nurses talk to you both, keeping you updated on your progress. After you get your epidural, your teeth start to chatter. 

“What’s wrong?” Eddie asks, rushing to your side.

“’M cold, Eds,” you whine softly. “Epidural’s making me shiver. ‘S normal, don’t worry.” Still, he asks for another blanket from the next nurse he sees. You’re finally able to rest, the pain of the contractions slightly eased. You can’t get too comfortable because of all the IVs and machines you’re connected to, but it’s certainly better than writhing in pain. You even manage to fall asleep for half an hour before the sound of your doctor’s footsteps wakes you.

“Well, Mrs. Munson, we’ve been at this for nine hours already,” she states, flipping through your chart. “Let’s see how baby’s doing, hmm?”

“I feel...feel like I have to push,” you groan. The contractions are really close together and you don’t know how much longer you can keep going before you pass out from exhaustion.

“Looks like we’re at 10 centimeters!” she announces. Eddie’s pulled his chair up next to you, stroking your hand with his thumb and bringing it to his lips for tender kisses. When he hears what the doctor says, he squeezes tight.

“This is it!” he whispers excitedly. “You’re so brave, sweetheart. I can’t believe you’re doing this. You’re the strongest, most bad-ass person I know.” 

You manage a giggle. “I love you, Eddie Munson.”

~

After an hour of pushing, you’re holding your tiny baby in your arms.

“I’m so happy,” you coo as she lets out a yawn. “Daddy and I are so happy you’re finally here!” You turn to Eddie. He’s physically and emotionally exhausted but grinning from ear to ear.

“I have a daughter,” he says, awestruck. “She’s so perfect. I just…I just don’t get it. How is she so perfect?”

“Beats me. You and I are a mess,” you tease as a nurse knocks on the door.

“Hi there,” she calls softly. “I’ve got some grandparents who would love to see you.” Your parents and Wayne wave from the doorway.

“Come on in,” you say. The adrenaline of labor is quickly wearing off, and you feel yourself in desperate need for a nap. Still, you aren’t going to deny them time with their first grandchild.

Eddie gently takes your daughter into his arms. “I’d like you all to meet Melody Joy Munson,” he announces. “Melody because she is the sweetest music I’ve ever heard, and Joy for—”

“For your mother,” Wayne finishes, tears in his eyes. “She would be so proud of you. Both of you,” he amends, “and she would’ve spoiled the hell out of this little girl.”

You nod, and Eddie adds, “Oh, she would’ve bought her every frilly pink outfit she could find.”

After 10 minutes of newborn snuggles, you start to fall asleep, and the proud grandparents head home. It took some bargaining, but Wayne eventually puts Melody back in her bassinet, but not before promising that he’ll never put her down once she comes home.

You’re asleep for all of 45 minutes before you’re greeted with more guests.

“The Munson family is very popular,” the nurse quips jokingly, and it warms you from the inside out. We’re a family.

Steve and Nancy file in quietly. “Sorry to wake you,” Nancy whispers, “but we just had to meet the baby. We’ll only be a few minutes, I swear.”

“’S’okay,” you reply tiredly, managing a small smile. Eddie puts his hand on your shoulder, a silent I got this, as your friends peer over at your daughter. 

“Melody, this is Aunt Nancy and Uncle Steve. They have a son named Andy. We’ll try to keep him from stampeding over you.” Melody stirs but doesn’t cry. 

“Such a good baby,” Nancy swoons. “Almost makes me want another one—almost,” she clarifies as she catches Steve’s cocked eyebrow.

“Y/N, Eddie, she’s adorable. I love her already,” Steve puts a hand on Eddie’s back. “Can I hold her?” he asks anxiously. Eddie nods, lifting Melody into Steve’s arms. You take in the sight of your husband and your friend bonding over your baby, and you nearly melt.

Nancy sits next to you. “You get some rest,” she orders gently, offering a kind smile. She’s always looked out for you. “But first,” her voice drops to a whisper, “how did Eddie do during your labor?”

You laugh even though it hurts. “Surprisingly well. I thought I was gonna murder him on the drive over, though. Asking me 14,000 questions while I’m trying to breathe through my contractions.”

“Good. If he passed out or something, I’d kill him myself.” She suddenly looks over at Steve, who nods amidst your confusion.

“We actually have a little surprise,” he says. The door bursts open before he can finish his thought.

“Uncle Dusty’s here!”

Eddie spins around, and you’re grateful he’s already handed Melody to Steve. “Henderson! You’re here!” 

Dustin pushes past Eddie and goes straight toward the baby in Steve’s arms. “Lemme see! I don’t believe that Eddie could make a cute kid.”

Eddie ruffles Dustin’s curly hair. “Lucky for you, she looks just like her mom.”

“Holy shit,” Dustin breathes, “Eddie Munson has a daughter.”

“That’s what I said!” Eddie laughs. “So, what, Henderson? You cut class just to see me?”

“No, I cut class just to see her,” Dustin points at Melody. “Actually, I told my professors that I’ll be out for a few days because my brother and sister-in-law just had a baby.” He’s bashful as he says it, but you’re truly touched.

“You wanna hold her?” you ask, and he nods in response. Steve hands the sleeping baby over to Dustin.

“She’s beautiful,” he says, and you can tell he’s choking back tears. “What’s her name?”

“Melody Joy,” you answer, blinking back tears of your own.

“Well, hi there, Melody Joy,” Dustin coos. “I’m gonna be your favorite uncle. And when you get older, I’m gonna teach you all about Dungeons and Dragons. You roll your eyes lovingly as he continues.

“Can I tell you a secret? Your mom and dad are amazing, incredible people. Always looking out for their friends. Who knows where I’d be without your dad taking me under his wing? And who knows where he’d be without your mom making sure he takes care of himself?

“But do you know what the best part about our weird little makeshift family is? You never run out of love. When life beats you down and you feel like you can’t get back up, you have a whole army of people ready to help you. Because we love each other. And we love you, little Melody Joy.

“Welcome to the family.”

 --