#‘I appreciate the commitment to “Red Five”’

[dubiousculturalartifact]

Fridge thought fully like, twenty years later, when thinking about the concept in Young Wizards about how a wizard is picked to be offered wizardry and given an Ordeal because they're potentially the exact right person for a particular problem:

So Dairine, given the power of wizardry, decides to go find Darth Vader and kick his ass, right?

And there’s like some discussion about how, if she uses her raw wizardly power to ‘go find Darth Vader’ then she’s inevitably going to end up attracting the attention of the universe’s equivalent thereof.

Which okay, I always just nodded along to the logic of, big bad guy=big bad guy, and treated it more as a humorous bit, than something fundamental to the entire dang plot.

Because what my brain somehow failed to conceptualize, (and this may have been obvious to some other people), is what happens to Darth Vader at the end of the movies

Namely. He gets redeemed, because someone is willing to reach out and help him along towards that.

She didn’t just summon the attention of the Lone Power by trying to manifest Darth Vader into the universe by sheer ten year old stubborness, she summoned SPECIFICALLY the version of the Lone Power where Reconfiguration was a built-in possibility.

[onelonelysaiyan]

Hazbin Hotel Adam Relationship Headcanons

Fairly gn, i tried my best! This is kind of my starting point for getting back into writing, let me know what you guys think! <3

-DAD BOD!!!!! You CANNOT change my mind on this 

-Hairy arms, legs, a little on his chest, has a really nice happy trail 

-Strong arms, good at cuddling  

-Uses wings a lot in his body language 

-Enjoys when you preen his wings, makes him feel loved 

-Tries to be less rude and mean when talking to you 

-LOTS of petnames; Angel, babe, baby, mommy/daddy, sugartits, sweetie, sweetheart, sugar, dollface, wifey/husband

-Super clingy, like, to an obsessive extent sometimes. Will get upset if you’re not spending enough time (in other words, all of your time) with him. Calls you all day if you’re apart, will text if you tell him to stop calling. Has to know where you are, who you’re with, if you’re safe. Has absolutely spied on you before, and has made poor Lute follow you around on numerous occasions. He just wants to make sure you’re alright!  

-Big Baby. He’s so whiny and needy, please coddle him. Not in public, but like when you’re alone just hold him and run your fingers through his hair. Kiss his forehead. Hold his hands. Let him rest his head on your chest, he needs it 

-PDA is his thing, but in general his love language is touch so expect lots of physical contact ALL the time unless you just really don’t like that kind of thing 

-Absolute tease, doesn’t matter where you are. Love to rile you up even if he’s not looking for anything to happen afterward. Just likes seeing your red face 

-Will talk to/at you for HOURS, about literally anything and everything. Like please, babe, just shut up for like, five seconds? 

-KISS HIM WHEN HE’S RAMBLING. Shut this asshole up with the sweetest way you know, he’ll fall for you all over again 

-Honestly just kiss him, any time will do. Might act a little upset if he’s in the middle of a sentence but he loves it, please kiss him more 

-Likes to spend the rare day off by laying in bed with you and just holding you, all lazy kisses and gently roaming hands while you lay on his chest 

-Give him chest kisses!!! Especially over his heart, practically melts when you do, it’s just so sweet and intimate to him and he feels so loved when you do 

-Loves to play with your hair, long or short. Sometimes tangles it on accident, but he’s willing to brush it back out for you if you’ll let him 

-Will just stare at you sometimes, he’s so in love. He wants to make sure he commits every detail of your beauty to memory, even if he’s already done so numerous times before. 

-Will absolutely adore it if you train with him and his exorcists, even if you can’t always keep up. You’re trying and it’s cute as hell 

-Will brag about you to anyone and everyone. Can be rather inappropriate about it, but he really can’t help it! He wants everyone to know how perfect you are and how you chose him out of everyone.

-Possessive, can’t stand seeing others trying to flirt with you. He understands why they would, after all, you’re the hottest being in Heaven! Who wouldn’t want you? But he still doesn’t appreciate it. Will march up to you and the other person before wrapping his arms around you and fluffing out his wings to make himself seem bigger (which really isn’t necessary, the man’s an absolute GIANT already...) 

-Speaking of being a giant, this man loves to engulf you with his body. He’s just so big that no matter what size you are he practically swallows you whole when he holds you. Thinks it’s super cute how small you are compared to him 

-Plays his guitar for you a lot, loves to sing for you too. Will make you attend band practice to get your approval of new songs and honestly just so he can see you while he plays. Gives him an ego boost to see you cheering him on both in practice and at shows and he’s certain he sounds better when he knows you’re there watching

I've got a fair few NSFW headcanons too so let me know if that's something y'all would be interested in!

[jolalibrary]

5. pepper red

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter five of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 2.5k chapter warnings: [see masterlist for series warnings] SMUT. p in v. dirty talk/mutual appreciation. minor competency. frankie is pretty, thick and sexy. frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. you wear a date outfit but not specified. no use of y/n. an: if this was a sitcom episode, it wouldn't be allowed to be aired and also, i passed my exam, wahoo.

prev chapter | series masterlist

For some reason, it doesn’t surprise you that his bedroom is forest green. Or, that it’s accented by strong whites and similar dark woods as the living room. All earthy tones, him.

In the same way, it doesn’t surprise you that his skin is soft, all smooth as your fingers brush over his skin when you lift his t-shirt from his frame.

Because he looks as good as he did in those videos you’d watched over and over. Getting the chance to see if the silver scars were tricks of the light or stories he hadn’t shared. Your fingers discovered it was the latter.

“God, you look good, Frankie.”

He snorts, before sliding a thumb under your jaw, forcing you to confront big, doe brown eyes. Ones that you’d fall into if you could, especially as they pause, stare from one eye to the next, likely to see if there’s a lie there—a slither of untruth to your confession.

There isn’t.

A thing you ensure sits at the forefront, a silent plea for him to believe you. You suppose he must do when his mouth slides back over yours. Tongue pressing at your lower lip, seeking entry that you happily allow.

You lose yourself in it, him. How good it feels to have his lips on yours again. To have the added feel of purposeful and intentional fingers taking their sweet time to slide your outfit from you.

Because his hands trail over as much as they can. Doing so as though he’s busy carving a memory of you in his mind, making you real. A thing you won’t admit you’re doing too, too busy committing the way he feels, as you run your hands across his shoulders. Feel the expanse of them, the width, wondering—as his tongue swirls a shape on your neck—if yoga will really help you fit his broadness between your thighs.

Frankie must notice you’re drifting, thinking, because his mouth finds yours. A thing which cements you to the moment. Kissing you slowly, deliberately—a hint of mint amongst the drink he’d provided and you smirk, smiling against him.

Because he’s eaten a TicTac.

It mixes, fighting to refresh as though you hadn’t eaten and consumed the same fast food. But the act, the way his lips slide against yours, makes that joke melt as quickly as it appeared, because he’s completing his mission: the one to leave you breathless.

Tangling your fingers in his hair, you choose to pull him closer, deepening the kiss. Tongue sliding back behind his teeth as a soft moan escapes him; swallowed by your own as his hands grip your hips, pulling you flush against him. The feel of him, hard and ready against you sends a thrill of anticipation darting through you.

It’s easy, simple, to allow the rhythm of your bodies to become a language all of its own. A two-way conversation being sketched out and written in sighs and moans, punctuated by the occasional gasp. A symphony of desire.

And then you make things shift. Change the tempo when your hand descends between the two of you. Feeling him, grasping his cock, taking note of the way he inhales at the feel of your fingers. For a moment, his mouth hovers over yours—both open, just breathing. His palms flat to your side—as you hold him, feel his cock twitch in your hand. Moving, slowly—almost torturously, but it’s actually with precision.

He’s so hard, thick. Your fingers tighten their hold, wrist moving more, palm sliding up and down as you taste the way he says fuck.

“Bed,” he groans, almost through gritted teeth.

Smirking, you bite his lower lip. Light. Not piercing or enough to leave an indent. “In a minute.”

And it leaves his tongue again. Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, baby.

All you can think about is how good he sounds, looks—feels. His head tipped back, neck elongated—lips parting as each expletive lasts longer than the four letters that make it up. It’s cliché to say it’s never been like this, but a truth that personal isn’t always easy to confess.

“Not waited to do this right with you to come before you have, Rainy.”

His fingers, those calloused ones attached to those hard-working hands, wrap around your wrist. Light, but determined.

“Oh, Butterscotch,” you tease, mouth close to his. “You been thinking about this?”

He smirks, just as he clasps his other hand to your side—tugging, yanking you flush. Feeling him, all of him, as you’re guided, moved, backs of your legs meeting the well-made bed you’re about to mess up and ruin.

“Since the moment I heard you laugh.”

Your body falls back, the sheets cool, smooth, pressing against your bare spine, before his body comes up—caging you. Nudging your thighs apart with his knee.

“Just kept thinking, bet you make other pretty noises too.”

Lips parting, you knot your fingers in the curls at the base of his neck, letting his lips slide into his cheek. That dimple appearing. The one which tries to hide under wiry hair and shyness, but is deeper than ever now, nothing held back or hidden.

And you can’t help but watch, completely transfixed by the light from the lamp he'd flicked on. The one lighting up his face, making him appear golden, ethereal. Able to discern each of the shades that make up his eyes, the flecks within them, the different browns that make a colour you dream and think of constantly, but you’re not sure has any other name than Frankie.

“Can I touch you, baby?”

You find you can only nod.

Words failing, falling, simply replaced by a gasp as he slides them between your partly spread thighs—feeling it, how wet you are. How slick and desperate you are to have him. A mess, all for him, by him. It likely ruined the underwear you’d left on his floor and dampened the sheets under you.

“This all for me?”

The rasp of his voice only makes you ache more for him. Hips desperate to shift so his fingers do more than trace and tease, but plunge and curl.

“Yes,” you moan.

It's like he knows you. A thought that bubbles and bursts when your fingers grasp at his sheets, his two fingers feel so much different than your own; Than the toys you own that are shoved in protective bags inside your sock drawer. His seek, aiming to find that spot inside you, stretches you, making your toes curl and your knuckles ache from how tight they hold the sheets.

And he’s talking. A sea of things that you half-catch and miss the rest. That you look good, feel good, that he wants to watch you come apart before he even thinks about giving you his cock.

Words almost leave your mouth, but you’re barely present.

More electric than person; more liquid than solid. So fucking close already you can feel the tremors in your thighs from not rutting yourself against his hand when the base of his palm presses flat to your swollen nerves.

“Fuck, Frankie—”

“Do you like it when I talk, baby?” his voice becomes an anchor. Keeping you here, not allowing you to float too far as you nod, crinkled pillows sounding as you do. “I think you do. I think you like hearing how hard you make me, how much I think about you in this bedroom, in the shower—at work—“

You’re arching. Barely clinging to the present as your feet flatten to root you, to grip to reality as your ears ring and pleasure does more thrum, but builds and builds—all compressing, hot, closer to liquid fire.

“—look at me, baby.”

And you do.

Lids flipping open as you’re met with nothing but desire, lust and need. It pushes you, suddenly freefalling. Your throat aching, scratched with the syllables of his name as you dig fingers into his curls and curl your body as much against him as possible as he works you through it. Him coaxing, mouth on your collarbone as he licks and lathes as you moan, and pant.

It’s then you look at him again.

Bathed in a sandy glow, sweat peppered on his chest, glinting and glittering as you find his eyes on you, taking you in as you catch your breath.

He’s so handsome, beautiful. In a way that ruined you before, that made you think of nothing but him, which now devastates you—in a way you only want him to do over and over.

It’s easier to kiss him than say it.

To trace the words over his mouth as he hums, as the vibration tickles across your lips before you’re manoeuvring him. Only paused in doing so as he dragged his lips down your neck, the sound of a drawer opening, closing, hearing a wrapper crinkle.

It’s a blink and you’ll miss it moment when your hand snatches it from him, placing it between your teeth, trying as they do so easily in movies to lightly rip it over with your teeth. You struggle. Suddenly nervous about piercing it, mind in overdrive because what—

"Easy, baby. I've got it," he growls into your ear, taking it from you, opening it more with ease than you'd managed.

And it makes you crash your mouth back to his. Etching more things to his mouth, smudging them over his tongue. How much you want this, want him.

It’s why you’re grateful that Frankie moves with ease until he’s on his back and you’re on top of him. A hand finds a home on your back, once the empty wrapper is discarded, fingers spreading out, flowing warmth into your bones. Then the other begins aiding, lining himself up as the head presses against your opening.

When you take as much of him as you can, fingers soothing your hip at the stretch, the hiss drawn from your lips at the light sting, before your forehead meets his. It's a moment before you move again. His words are there, guiding, before the room is flooded with a moan that's unearthed from your soul. One that is almost smothered in his own, a groan that makes heat flood your ears and a smile grace your mouth.

“So good for me, feel so good—“

“Can take more,” you interrupt, breathless. Slowly moving again, lifting up before sliding back down his cock—walls welcoming him, stretching, taking him to the hilt. “Y’feel good, Frankie.”

“Yeah?”

Nodding, you roll your hips slowly, torturously if anything. Still sensitive. Little gasps escape as you begin to find a rhythm, one that makes his teeth bite down on his lip.

Taking his hand, pulling it to your breast, wrapping around it as he cups it—as his groan stains the air between the two of you—you draw an O with your hips, feel that heat in your stomach.

“I like your hands, Frankie.”

A line appears, deep between his two brows. A look of shock, surprise—awe—spreads over his face like a sunny day suddenly appearing in a storm. Before, it’s slipping away, hiding, wriggling away to some depth of him you wish to call back.

“I like your voice, your smile—fuck, oh my god—and-and I like your thighs, and your…”

You continue, babbling, rambling as his hands find your hips, steadying, moving you, thrusting up into you as little spots appear in your vision, as your own voice becomes distant and easily forgettable.

But the look on his face is anything but the latter.

He’s spellbound, utterly captivated—appearing as though if his mind was a camera, he’d have filled up several memory cards with what he was trying to capture.

And it feels good.

A wanting so bad that it almost makes you snap there and then, more so as the head of his cock kisses that part of you once again, a whine coated in both a gasp and a moan—

“Put your hands on the headboard, baby.”

And you do, assisted by him moving you with him sheathed inside of you before palm after palm is placed. The fabric underneath is soft, almost like velvet—leaving marks of your touch behind in its wake as you feel his mouth on the underside of your breast.

“You look good like this,” he continues, mouth pressing kisses to your skin, “But then, you always do.”

Your eyes snap to his, finding nothing but hunger paddling in brown. You don't fight the heat that flares out to the last few places pleasure hasn’t touched. Where only compliments and adoration can kiss and warm.

Then he says your name.

Not baby, not Rainy, but the one you’d handed him in that paint aisle and set yourself on a course for unravelling. A thing you don’t regret, but rather wish had happened sooner.

Your name rasped in that deep way that echoes through the room long after the last letter is spoken, digging deep into your soul as it unlocks something. It makes every sound amplified; the rustle of sheets, the creak of the bed, the sound of skin meeting skin.

“Let me hear you, baby,” cuts through, slicing,

And you do.

Your whine shifts into a sob, almost choking on it as it snaps—as pleasure rips through you and drowns you in waves. There’s nothing but white, a much louder ringer, and the distant knowledge that you’re spraying his name across the room as your hips stutter and he thrusts up into you, twitching, fucking breathless from it.

His hands, large and holding tight, keep you rooted—slowly hearing him groaning, grunting, low hisses of your name and how good you feel tight around his cock.

His fingers dig into your skin when he follows you. When his eyes clench, and his mouth parts around your name, lighting it up, making it seem as special as he makes you feel.

You collapse fully against him, thighs still shaking, little tremors in your muscles as your fingers brush back his damp curls from his forehead. A smile easy to find, to let slide over your mouth as you kiss him.

The light from the lamp drapes over you—still sticky, a mess between your thighs as you kiss him again, bodies flush. More gentle, a light lick across his bottom lip as you feel him grin, hands roaming over your body, tracing the curve of your waist, the slope of your back

He murmurs your name, palm sliding up your cheek, tip of his nose brushing against yours. “Should clean you up.”

“Hmm…”

His thumb swipes, hearing him swallow as your eyes open and find his already on you. “Don’t go.”

"To clean up?"

"Tonight."

Biting your lip, you try to fight it—less a smile and more a grin. “Okay. I won’t.”

And his lips capture yours once more. A thing you relax into—easily. Just like you keep finding so effortless to do with him.

next chapter ->

[lindssunflower]

𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐘, bradley bradshaw

part two ♡

♡ ✈︎ authors note: wow! thank you guys so much for the likes and reposts on the previous part! I appreciate it so much. I hope you guys like the part two <3

♡ ✈︎ summary: bradley's on the way over to your house to discuss his sudden heartfelt message.

♡ ✈︎ warnings: emotions!!

♡ ✈︎ pairings: bradley bradshaw x f!reader

────୨ৎ────

he's on the way. the realization of the situation finally sets in your mind.

you messaged him your new address to your new house. you're house that is filled with empty memories and promises of the past. bradley lives twenty minutes away and he usually speeds which always scared you when you'd ride passenger in his sky blue bronco.

the one time he really scared you was when you guys were late to mav's birthday at the hard deck and he went a 65 in a 45. you never understood why cause mav was a pretty well tempered man and you couldn't imagine him being upset about you and bradley being a few minutes late to his party. which despite bradley's best efforts to get there on time, you were approximately five minutes late. and no, mav wasn't upset.

however, this isn't the time to think about bradley's very unsafe driving. it's time to think about what the heck you're gonna say to the man whom you haven't seen in months. will he look any different? will he think you look different? you still can't even believe he went on that dangerous of a mission, that almost costed him his life, that you had no idea about. sure, you could've asked phoenix but you two didn't stay in touch that often anymore unless it's to strictly message one or two messages about how bradley's doing, which you only really asked fresh out of the relationship. not three months after. you were supposed to be moving on anyway.

for a few weeks you laid in bed. in your best friends house that you moved into for a little while until you could get back on your feet after losing bradley and his apartment that you lived in for two years along with him. during those few weeks of nothing but thinking and mourning the loss of your relationship, you were trapped with the idea of how you were supposed to build your life around yourself again. bradley and your red golden retriever, skipper, were your entire life.

he never liked skipper anyway you thought. he only tolerated "that dog" cause you'd never even think about saying yes to bradley's offer to move in after 3 months of dating if he didn't say yes to the dog making stay in his apartment too. he'd never admit it, but he secretly loved the old mutt that would fetch him his beers and cry by the front door when he was deployed.

he welcomed the dog to welcome you. no skipper no you. and he knew that.

so he bought the expensive dog bed, that he never used anyway. skipper usually slept in the middle of you two despite bradley's protests.

you two had a good life. you just wanted more than cuddling while watching bradley's football games and weekend drinking at the hard deck. you wanted a family. a child that was a mix of you and him. you wanted marriage. you wanted his complete commitment. that he could never give you, for reasons you never knew why. you knew he wasn't the unfaithful type. no, bradley looked at you like the only women in the world. whether you were dolled up for a night out, or in bed wearing his tee shirt with no makeup on. he just loved you. every version.

so why didn't he want to commit? did he expect to just stay boyfriend and girlfriend forever and never husband and wife? were you casual to him?

the thoughts plagued your mind until you heard the familiar knock on the door that you knew belonged to bradley. your heart immediately starts racing and your hands start to shake. you walk over to the door and open it.

he did look different.

his hair was longer and his under eyes were darker. as if he hasn't slept in a few days or maybe just the night. he was wearing a hawaiian tee that he usually wore when he wasn't in uniform. he said they reminded him of his dad. he loved his dad.

he had the same boyish half smile that he'd always wear when he would just stare and watch you as you made dinner. that he always appreciated and loved. it was a look you couldn't ever really describe or explain when you'd tell your friends. it was the look of admiration in his eyes that would always have your heart swarm with butterflies when he looked at you like that. like the way he's looking at you right now.

you stand against the doorframe and decide you're probably going to have to be the one to speak first, "brad?" your voice quiet as you wait for him to respond.

he puts his hands in his pockets and sighs, "you look beautiful."

your heart swarmed with those familiar butterflies that you haven't felt in a while. not since your last kiss with the man before he shattered your heart three months ago.

"thank you." you said. the words almost came out as a whisper. you tried to communicate with him with your eyes that you want him to talk about the messages he sent you thirty minutes ago were about. "come in," you gestured towards your door. he follows behind you and looks around your new house before locking eyes with you again. "y/n.. I know this is all um-" his voice strains as he speaks, almost sounding as if he Is trying to find the right words to say. "I'm sorry okay? I'm so sorry I ever walked out on you. I'm an idiot and I didn't know what I had until I lost it. until I lost you." his voice cracks as his eyes well up with tears that haven't beckoned to fall yet, "I was scared of starting.. a- a family with you. I just.. I watched my mom cry almost every night after losing my dad and I just couldn't do that to you," a single tear falls down your face as you quickly wipe it. overwhelmed with bradley's unknown and unspoken feelings that you never knew he even harbored until now.

he didn't talk about his past much. of course, you knew the basic's but never this much detail and underlying trauma. you just immediately wanted to grab him and hold him. if only you knew.

the tears that were building in his eyes fall. you wipe them as he continues, "If we ever had a family, I just couldn't bare the thought of leaving you widowed with our child. leaving you alone to raise them without me. i don't want them to feel like I felt." he let out a sob, you frowned and grabbed him, pulling him closer to you as you let him rest his head on your shoulder. he wrapped his arms around you and you ran your hand through his unruly curls, "its okay.." you whisper in his ear. he unwraps his arms from around you and lays his hands on either side of your hips, "I want what you want now though. I knew the risks, but when I was in the air and I didn't know if I was going to make it or not I didn't want my last regret to be knowing I never even tried to give you a family. or me as a husband. I love you, y/n." you wish you could've seen your face as you felt your face beam with joy as you grab his face and kiss him. he immediately kisses you back. the kiss didn't feel the same way it did a few months ago, it felt like as if you lost something valuable and found It again. like lost treasure. bradley bradshaw was your lost and found treasure. and you're gonna make sure this time you're never going to lose it again.

────୨ৎ────

♡ ✈︎ authors note: what do we think guys? do we love?? let me know!

[eddiernunson]

Really Drives Me Mad | EX-bfs dad!Eddie Munson x Reader | 18+

Previous Part | Master List | Next Part

Word Count: 10k

Warnings; degradation/praise, deep throating, eating out, edging

Author's note: Hope you don't mind but I made the reader both a swifitie and team Edward this chapter. I do appreciate all the love I've gotten for this fic. Here's part 3!

-

The general reaction you’ve received over the last two weeks was Are you out of your mind? 

While Bethany heard you out on how it happened and why it felt like a sigh of relief being with Eddie, your mom lost her damn mind. As you spoke to her, you did your best to have a civil conversation until it just ended up being her lecturing you over the speaker while you finished up cleaning the dishes.

When she realizes you haven’t responded in a while and asks if you're still there, you pick up the phone from the window ledge and unmute yourself. “Mom, seems like you’re not interested in what I have to say about this, only about how it looks. Until you’re ready to listen, I’ll let you go.” Your finger hits the red hang up button, noting the time to the call being 45 minutes. You told her the situation about five minutes in and ever since, she had spent her time venting about Eddie and how irresponsible you were, as if she hadn't listened to anything you had to say about it. 

“Are you sure you really thought this through?” Skyler, your roommate asks you as she brings her bowl over to you. 

You huff, grabbing it from her and soaking it in the hot soapy water. “Thought what through?”

“You and him. Long term.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at her. “Who said anything about this being long term? What if it’s just for now?” 

“Is it just for now? Because you went into it with Dylan claiming all you wanted was someone to commit to you.” She pauses, and you look her in the eyes as if to say get on with it. “When you had someone fully committed, someone willing to stay in it for the long haul, you left him.” 

“I didn’t get scared of his commitment, Sky!” You exclaimed, a little thrown off by it. 

“Really? Because you were so eager to introduce him to literally anyone?” Skyler throws at you, and she had a point. Your hesitation in meeting Eddie had everything to do with the fact that Dylan was more committed to your relationship than you were.

You were literally every guy you had hooked up with before Dylan, getting angry that he would act like a boyfriend except for the life long stuff. 

Fuck. What a hypocrite you were. 

“Fine, his commitment scared me a bit.” You admit, washing one last dish before draining the sink. “But it’s not why I left him.”

“For his dad.”

You sigh, eyebrows raised at her tone. “Yes, for his dad.” 

“Have you considered that when you’re his age, he’ll be in his 60s?”

“So?” You ask her, moving to the couch in the living room. 

“That’s not a relationship built to last.”

“Why can’t that be up to us to decide?” You ask her, wrapping the throw blanket around you and tucking yourself into the couch. “Look, I get your concern. I truly do. From the outside, me and Dylan were doing everything right. Having adventures, going Instagram official. Then we were meeting the families, getting comfortable.” You pause, rubbing your hair out of your face. “If I was 19/20, I would completely understand. I mean, I wouldn’t, but if that were the scenario, your concern would make sense. But I’m not. I’m 25. My frontal lobe is fully developed. I know that if I get together with Eddie then he’ll always be 20 years older than me. He’ll always have a different perspective on life than I do.” 

“You’ll always be tied to Dylan.” She points out. 

“We dated for six weeks.” You counter, a pinch appearing between your brows. “While we haven’t discussed our long term goals, I don’t see this being casual. It’s different with him. Nothing feels off about being with him. I’ve never felt safer.”

She pauses, assessing your face and the way you relax as you start talking about Eddie. “Fuck. You’ve never seemed this relaxed when talking about Dylan. Not once.”

“I wasn’t.” 

-

The comfort of Eddie’s chest breathing in and out underneath you as you lie right on top of him on the living room couch was soothing as you watched Twilight together. It took some convincing, but he let you press play on it and smirked over your shoulder at the blue filter.

No one had ever told him that the soundtrack was so good, though. 

It was maybe a half hour into the movie, and Eddie couldn’t figure out why every guy in her school just had to have her. The smile on your face as you settled into a comfort movie was worth the watch, though. 

You had texted him a few days prior, Eddie having given you his number before dropping you off at your apartment to face the real world. He was due back at his shop, having to settle management bullshit and deal with an unhappy customer or two to settle their complaints over the new apprentice. Ownership was nice, when they knew how to do their job. 

When can I see you next? 

When the six words lit up his screen, Eddie wanted to tell you to drive on over to his shop. He wanted to get in his truck and drive over to wherever the hell you are so he could text back Right Now. He knew your words were calculated, something not to seem too desperate to see him next, but truth be told, even if you were desperate it wouldn’t have made any difference; he was already hooked on you. He texted back to tell you the following Saturday, a day he knew he had no plans for the following day, so you could spend the night. 

He felt fucking crazy for thinking it, but now that he'd had you in his bed, it felt too big without you. 

Now here you lay with him, he sat in the corner of his couch while you snuggle up to him, and he could stay like this for hours, the sweet shampoo in his nose and the sound of your breaths comforting. He feels you slowly relax into him, all your body losing its tension. Occasionally, your arm would tighten around his torso or you would dig into him deeper. He appreciates the feeling, rubbing his fingers delicately along your skin.

The front door opens, and he feels you tense up as Dylan makes his way in. “Oh, great.” He mutters, and turns around to head straight up the stairs. 

Your body jerks to watch him, and your eyes catch Eddie’s for a moment. “I’ll be right back.” 

Eddie nods, seeing the fixed line your mouth made. He leans in to kiss you, an act of care more than anything else. You lean into it, your eyes closing automatically, breath hitching. “I’ll be here.”

-

The length up the stairs seemed to grow as you reached the top, this act something you have been dreading for days. Having told Bethany and Skyler about Eddie, they both felt bad for Dylan. In fact, your shitty attempt at an apology was met with a smack on the head with a nearby scrap paper by Sky. You knew Dylan deserved better. Fuck, did you know that. 

Here you stand in front of his door, sounds of a tv show on in the background while he presumably plays on his computer. Dylan was more the type to create joy out of finding a new favourite hiking trail or to take an archery class, but Eddie has said he’s been cooped up in his room. He goes to work, comes home and says barely two words before retreating upstairs. 

Not like you blamed him for it. 

Before you could hesitate any longer, you finally knock on his door. The sounds of his keys stop, and you barely hear the footsteps towards the door over your own heartbeat. The door opens to Dylan, and the disappointment when he sees you is evident, his face hardening. “What?”

“Can I come in?”

He seems to think on this, and you hope the outfit you have chosen, jeans with an oversized sweatshirt and your hair in a messy bun helps with the psychology of it, but when it came down to it, it was his decision. “…Sure.” You light up in surprise, having expected to do the apologizing in his door frame. You follow him in, and it’s an awkward moment of silence before he goes to sit in his desk chair. “Have a seat, I guess.” 

Your butt hits the edge of the bed, barely scraping the box spring. “Would it be cheesy if I recommended you listened to Speak Now, track 3?”

His eyebrows furrow, and it’s so like you to recommend a fucking Taylor song for the scenario. He has to laugh. “Taylor’s Version?”

“Of course.”

“Which is…?”

“Back To December.”

He tilts his head, this situation incredibly peculiar. “Remind me how that goes?”

A smile reaches your face, and you look at your lap sheepishly. 

“She apologizes…and clearly admits she was in the wrong after a person treats her very well and didn’t deserve it.” You pause, looking up at him.

“A little bit.” He admits, but the first wall is down. The look in his eye when he sees you doesn’t scream rage. 

“I can’t express how sorry I am for hurting you the way I did.” You start, watching for his reaction. “First, for stringing you along… But, you were the best looking guy at that mixer, and at that moment in time I truly did want to know you. None of that was fake.” He nods, considering this. “Then it started to feel, I don’t know, comfortable. I had people telling me how lucky I was to have you, daily, and with the men out there, god they were so right.” You gulp, and he can’t seem to look you in the eye. “I felt like there must’ve been something wrong with me not to be head over heels for you, cause there wasn’t anything wrong with you.”

“When did you know you wanted to break up with me?” 

“I can’t say for sure.” You tell him, and it was probably about two weeks ago, but that felt cruel. “But the moment we got back into your car I should’ve ended things.”

“You knew about him that fast, huh?” He asks you, his eyes appearing glossy. “You know, if you would’ve been honest I would have been absolutely choked, confused even, but I would have given you his number.”

You nod, because of fucking course Dylan would’ve been nice enough. “See, you’re so kind because that never occurred to me. I thought you would’ve dropped me off at home.”

“Probably.” Dylan admits, thinking about the possibilities if you’d broken up with him earlier. “Maybe not.”

“I’m so sorry for cheating on you, though. Of course, knowing your mom’s history shouldn’t have made a difference but—”

“Yeah. Kind of fucked me up.” Dylan leans back in his chair, and a smile reaches his face as he looks back to you. 

“I know that if me and Eddie keep dating that I could never, ever even remotely be a parental figure, and frankly I’m not looking to be your mom, but I hope one day you can trust me again.”

“See, how do I know you won’t do the same thing to him?”

It hurt, but it was fair. “You made me feel safe. But your dad—” he cringes, “Eddie, he makes me feel free.” 

Dylan turns around in his chair, considering this. “I believe that.”

“Wait, you do?”

“Yeah. When I walked in today sure, I was annoyed. Seeing my ex girlfriend in a new happy relationship with the person she cheated on me with is kind of annoying. But you were never that comfortable with me. That look of…contentment. I’ve never seen it before.” He sighs, doing another turn in his chair. 

“Have you and your dad spoken about it?”

“No. I’m pretty fucking mad at him. I’ll forgive him, one day. If you’re sticking around, I'll have to, because I’m not staying with my mom and her new perfect family. But we dated for six weeks. I was only starting to think I was falling in love with you. Thank god I never got there. Even then.”

“Don’t put all the blame on him.” You jump to his defense, and wow, did this sound bad. “I made the first move.”

“Good to know.” He pauses. “That’s all I want to know, for the record. No more details… I've heard enough.”

“I am sorry, though Dylan. In another universe, we date and I let you down properly and you meet your dad’s girlfriend a few weeks later who turns out to be your ex.” You laugh, just picturing it. 

“Sounds like a rom com.” 

“Honestly it’s an intriguing concept.” You get up from his bed, the conversation having met its end. 

“I can’t forgive you, yet. But that was the fucking apology I deserved the first time.”

You cringe at it, this memory is something you can already see haunting you at 3am.

“Can we pretend like that one never happened?”

“No. It’s great material to have in a back pocket. Who apologizes to their ex with brand new hickeys on their neck?"

“Okay, point taken!” You yell at him as you walk out the door. 

“Bye.” He calls out, and the door shuts behind you. 

-

You meet Eddie back at the couch, the movie paused while he scrolls through his phone. “What are you scrolling on?” You tease him, sitting easily back where you were before.

“Oh the uh, Facebook videos.” He says off-handedly, and you roll your eyes. “What?”

“Who uses Facebook nowadays?” You joke, knowing full you still updated yours occasionally.

He chuckles, nipping at your shoulder. You grab the remote by his leg, pressing play. “How did it go?”

“Better.” You sigh, watching Bella awkwardly ask him to hang out at the beach. “Much, much better. Doesn’t scream pure hatred in his face every time he looks at me anymore.”

“Makes one of us.” Eddie jokes, and you grab his hand to place a kiss, comforting him. 

The movie continues, and Eddie has never fully paid attention to the movie before, having come out in his late 20s. It was ridiculous, to say the least. The plot thickens as Bella discovers his true nature and Eddie can't help but notice a particular smile creep on your face as Edward mutters something about a lion falling in love with a lamb. Creepy. 

“Do-do you have a crush on Edward?” He asks, his voice particularly bewildered. 

Your eyes bug out, and you bite back the smile breaking out on your face with much failure.

“What? No.”

“Oh, you totally do.” Eddie chuckles, shaking his head. 

“Shut up.”

Another five minutes pass and your stomach rumbles, prompting Eddie to get up and walk to the kitchen to make you something. “Want something with chicken, rice, spice, what do you want, baby?” He calls out, and you now stare openly at the tv as the baseball scene is showing, and you’ve always considered Edward just to be a bit extra hot in this scene. 

His question takes a moment to register. “Butter chicken?” You ask him. 

He peeks his head out to the music on the screen, and immediately sees the look on your face. A big smile is plastered on your face, chin resting on your fingertips as you sit cross legged. Fucking. Teenage Vampires. He rolls his eyes, rejecting the jealousy. He isn't going to be jealous over this. Nope.

He finishes the food, putting a bowl out for you, Dylan, and himself out. “Dylan! Food if you want it!” He calls out, and he brings two of the bowls for you and him, the smell of his cooking more than welcome. “Here baby.” He kisses your forehead, sitting next to you as you take a big inhale. 

“Holy shit, thank you, Ed.” You tell him, and Eddie is perplexed at your ability to forget to eat a single thing until the hunger pains kick in. He supposes his food habits at 25 weren’t the greatest, either. Now that he thinks about it, he pretty much lived off energy drinks, coffee, and the occasional hot food Wayne would force down his throat.

You inhale the food, the empty bowl on the coffee table within minutes. “Want more?” You’re hypnotized by the screen, having barely heard him. Why did he want to fight a seventeen-year-old vampire? “Baby?”

“Hmm?”

“Want more?”

“Oh sure! Thank you.” The shine in your eyes brightens up as you look up at him, and it settles his jealousy. For the most part. 

Eddie scoops himself and you another bowl, seeing Dylan hasn’t grabbed his yet. “Dylan! Food’s getting cold! Come eat!” 

Dylan comes out, actually looking like he was in a better mood than he was before.

“Oh, shit, Twilight?” He comments, shaking his head. “She’s a hard Team Edward girl. Hard.” 

“I’ve noticed. Here.” Eddie would’ve usually taken the win from his son joking with him but the jealousy that sat eating his gut was so fucking annoying. Why the fuck was he so annoyed at this stupid vampire?

“Oh it's not so fun now, is it?” Dylan calls out, running back up the stairs. 

This makes Eddie smile, like things might go back to normal. The screaming match with him after you had left made him believe he truly severed his relationship with him, but this gave him an inch of hope. 

Eddie gives you the second serving and you tear through it again, leaving the bowl in front of you empty. As Eddie finishes his own, he starts to lean into you, placing delicate kisses on the little exposed skin you provided for him today. He moves you so you’re lying on top of him.

The movie is about to end, Bella waking up in a hospital with frankly, an off-putting delivery of the lines she was given. His hands make their way up past the hem of your sweater, reaching to touch some skin as he continues. A pinch makes its way in between your eyebrows down at him. “What’s this about?”

“Nothing. Just wanted to touch you.” You don't believe him, but you also don't mind the touches, as they were certainly doing their job as far as foreplay goes, so you lean back into him. Just when Eddie thought the end was near there’s a whole-ass prom scene and he nearly groans in frustration. Your legs intertwine with his, and he gets a sneaky idea, peering over your shoulder to move his leg over the teensiest bit. 

He moves his leg as if he was lifting one leg to rest on its foot. He moves it a bit faster than necessary, aiming for where your ass sat lower than normal on his body. 

As his knee jerks into your cunt, you gasp, a heat having already gathered from the movie alone, his teasing doing nothing to help. 

“Shit, sorry baby. Was just trying to move my leg.” One look at his face tells you it was a bold-faced lie and you give him an exasperated look. “What?” A series of shots that didn’t make the movie at the end show and Eddie rolls his eyes. “Prick.” He mutters under his breath to an image of Edward on the screen. 

“What was that?” You ask him, unsure you even heard him right. “Eddie, were you jealous?” You ask incredulously, the very idea of it is just bizarre. 

“What? No!” Eddie dismisses it far too quickly, but the satisfaction as he turns the tv off is too much to deny. 

“Eddie! He’s a fictional character. You do realize you share the same name, right?” Eddie rolls his eyes, slightly ticked off he let himself get caught being jealous. You crawl up to his face, the knee against your cunt having left a throb of more want. “Besides, there’s nothing to be jealous of.” You lean in to kiss him, still lying on top of him. As you tilt your head to deepen it, Eddie feels weak as your tongue meets his own and the way you’re gasping into his open mouth is filthy. “Nothing.” You emphasize, biting on his bottom lip. 

Eddie bites back a moan, his eyes rolling back as your teeth linger. You frame his face, kissing along the path of his stubble, his gorgeous jaw line, his freckled neck, the dip of his collarbone. 

You pause, taking a quick pause to suck on the collarbone lightly, biting into it to make one little claim of your own. You sit back on it, admiring the way it's already started to bruise. You continue, your hand absentmindedly moving his shirt up his torso so you could kiss your way down. You lick across a nipple, and his chest stunts in response. Down his torso you go until you meet the treasure of all treasure trails. You pause, inhaling at the scent, and the musk intoxicates you so much that you can’t help yourself, licking at it. Fuck. 

Finally, you get to his jean waistband, and you tug twice, making sure it's okay. Eddie moves to unbutton it for you, and you swat him away. “I wanna do it.” You tell him, picking up where he left off. You tug the jeans off, your fingers hooked meticulously so his boxers come off with them. 

His cock springs free and you look up to his face. By now Eddie has lost all clear thought, and he’s sure it started the moment you started working on his collarbone. Somehow it just got better and better as you went further down, every touch of your tongue against his skin sending fucking waves through him. But the look of…elation that you give him as you free his cock, like you couldn’t believe you get to be so lucky to suck on it, had him in pure ecstasy. 

You leaned in to take a long swipe on it, a slow lick from the base to the tip, and his cock is nearly down your throat before he could even register it. Relentlessly, you bob your head, fist gripping what you can't fit. You hear him swear loudly, and you let go with a popping sound. His hand finds its way to your face, framing it. You peer up at him, and his half opened eyes and a disbelieving smile gives you an unmatched sense of pride. 

“Holy shit.” He mutters, his thumb crossing your bottom lip slowly. 

You smile, lifting his hand from your face and into your hair, curling your fist over his so he would grip it tightly. You go back to work, mouth watering as you continue to bob up and down. Eddie slowly starts pushing on your head, forcing you to take a little bit more of him at a time. Your gag reflex fights it, and he can feel it. 

“Relax your throat baby.” He whispers. “Just relax it.” You think about it, letting the tense muscles of your jaw and attempting to swallow the spit to soften. He can feel a shift, his cock still in the heat of your mouth. “Oh, good girl.” 

He thrusts his hips up, and his cock finds itself down your throat, a feat you’ve never been able to accomplish before. The base of his cock meets your nose, and he stops, watching you adjust as tears come to your eyes from the stinging. “Holy shit, good fucking girl.” He mumbles, sweeping his hand through your hair. “So good.”

He pulls on your scalp so you move up and back down a few times, and you find it impossibly easy to submit yourself to him, allowing him to fuck your throat.

Eddie guides you off his cock, you look up at him for his appraisal and he frames your face to wonder how he was so lucky as he looks at your cocked-out eyes. “Oh, what a good little slut.” He mutters, pulling you up to his face. 

You crawl up eagerly, and he kisses you gently, not chaste, but not quite as dirty as before. He breaks away, still connecting your foreheads. “Let’s go upstairs, yeah?”

You nod readily; lust filled eyes staring back into his. You wait patiently for him to put his jeans back over on his cock and make your way back up the stairs to his room. 

As soon as his door is shut Eddie rids himself of his clothes, and you end up watching from his bed eagerly, enjoying the show. He dives onto the bed, and a squeal of giggles involuntarily leaves your throat at the wild eyes captivating his face. He dives down to kiss you, his tongue delicious against your own and he sucks on it, luring a whimper right out of you. One of his hands rubs against your thigh, and this pair of pants wasn’t something he could feel you up through. Eddie’s thumb messaged extra rough, and the touch alone manages more whimpers. 

“Touch me.” You choke out, breathing heavily, breathing him. “Please.”

Eddie grins, both his hands working down to unbutton the tight jeans you wore. A hand slips in and starts to tease along the slick of your folds and your breath hitches as Eddie focuses on making you feel good. He rubs them in small circles, the touch light but enough to give you release. You can tell he isn't necessarily driving you towards an orgasm and it drives a laugh of impatience out of you against his lips. 

“Baby” You whine, “Fuck.” You couldn’t even put words to it, because somehow you knew he’d find a way to twist it. 

Eddie leans into your neck, the heat of his cruel laughter closing your eyes. “Oh, you wanted me to touch you and get off? Well why didn’t you say so?” 

The pressure increases, a defined difference in his touch as he rubs against your clit, and the sounds he draws from you was worth the tease. He hikes your oversized sweater up, revealing skin and your bra, and as his fingers move absentmindedly he kisses your stomach with light tongue, the wet warmth sending shivers up your body as the feeling in your tummy starts to pool. 

He sits up suddenly, and you whimper from the loss. He chuckles at this, pride in how pathetic he can make you feel. “Aww, poor baby.” He mocks you, and your eyebrows furrow in slight embarrassment. “It’s okay, I know you just wanna cum…gonna get you to cum all over my face.” His hands tug on your jeans, and he barely needs any help from you to yank them off, unceremoniously throwing them onto the floor. “Oh, fuck, finally.” He mutters as he sees your pussy, prettier than he remembered when he jacked himself off in the shower this morning. 

He leans in, sucking on your clit and the heat expands from it into your legs and the feeling in your stomach doubles. From no release to every bit, you could already feel the knot threatening to snap. “Holy shit, fuck.” You mutter, your thighs clamping against him. 

He feels the intensity in your body shift, continuing to suck on your clit rhythmically. Your breathing increases, and Eddie slowly sucks harder, and harder, and as your heels dig in his upper back, he stops. 

An audible whine leaves you, the edge just right there. “Fuck, Ed.” You whimper, somehow knowing it was on purpose. 

He chuckles, watching your beautiful cunt react as well. “I know, baby, I know.” 

“I was so close.” 

“Imagine how good it’ll feel when you do cum, yeah?” He teases, still watching your face. Your leg muscles spasm and the kisses he trails down your thigh are no help. 

You whine again, toes curling and the extra fabric of your sweater self consciously curls up around your fists. “Ed.”

“I know.” He says one last time, and goes in for the kill. 

There was really no delay this time, the edge was only a step away and he pushed you over, his fingers fucking into you and tongue working over time on your clit, a heat into an explosion as your legs shake and pussy spasms. Eddie pays close attention to it, admiring the glisten of your slick coating you, dripping to your ass and on his sheets and it's a piece of art. 

Eddie kisses one last time against your clit, crawling back up to you to assess. “Sweetheart?”

You smile lazily at him, the orgasm having left a smile on your face and a glow amongst your features. “Hmm?”

“Wanna fuck still?” He asks, his hand petting your face softly. 

Your eyes fucking light up, nodding enthusiastically. He chuckles, moving the sweater slowly up and over your head. He moves around your torso, single handedly unhooking your bra, revealing those gorgeous tits. 

He looks like heaven above you, a shadow of stubble, brown eyes darkened as he takes you in, and the lust in his eyes sends a pool of wetness between your legs. Your legs open, and he sits himself between them, kissing the nearest skin he can as he puts his cock into you. 

Your legs close on the feeling, mouth falling open in a silent moan. God, what a sight. 

You sleepily look up at him as he puts his chest on yours, just drinking in the moment of him in you. He does the same, your hands framing his face.

He kisses you, slow and sweet. “So, so, good, Ed.” You manage out between them, sighing up at him. 

He moves back a bit, thrusting into you lightly and you whimper into his mouth. He separates himself to get a good look as he continually fucks into you, and your mouth is open in unspoken words. Too fucking good. 

“I know baby, I know.” He tells you. He kisses your neck, down your throat and down to a tit bouncing lightly from the impact of his cock fucking into you. He latches his tongue onto the nipple, your pussy tightening around him in response. He grazes his teeth lightly, mewls leaving your throat at the sheer pleasure mixed with pain and he lets go. 

He leans up from you, taking one of your legs and placing it against his shoulder up towards the ceiling and you can feel him deeper, his thrusts starting to hit harder. Your moans are interrupted by each thrust. “Ed. So. Good. Fuck.”

His hand gently caresses your leg on his shoulder, focusing on the warmth of your pussy engulfing him. “Oh, tight pussy. So fuckable.” 

“Yours.” You whine out. 

“Oh, that’s right. My pussy.”

“All yours.” You choke out. 

“Oh that’s fuckin right. You’re mine. All mine. My good fuckable slut.”

The words hit the right spot, making your eyes roll back. “Fuck, Ed. Cum in me.”

“Yeah, wanna be filled with me?"

“Mmhmm…” 

“Oh fuck.” Eddie reaches his high faster than he was expecting, his hips jerking into you and the feeling of his cock pulsating while it spurts inside you is everything. 

Eddie pants, lightly pushing your leg off his chest. He leans forward to give you a kiss, his body covered in sweat, the slick smell being something you need to memorize. “Holy shit, sweetheart."

You giggle, your legs holding him there. “Stay a while?”

“Love to cockwarm, huh, baby?” 

“Only with you,” You mutter, a yawn leaving you. And if it was anything like the first time, you’ll be asleep within minutes. “So full.” 

He chuckles, turning on the tv next to his bed. He tugs the blanket out from under you and pulls it over the two of you. You snuggle into his arms as he wraps them around you. “You know, we can cuddle without—” Eddie starts.

“No, no. That’s crazy talk.” You interrupt him, and he feels a smile up against his chest.

As you fall asleep, you hear one last thing from him, something you don’t think you were supposed to hear. “Beat that, you sparkly fucker.”

Somehow, the power of making Eddie jealous over a fictional vampire didn’t go straight to your head, but goddamn it felt good to be this wanted. 

-

The tickle of the sheet against your abdomen comes to mind as you wake up on your side, calf in between Eddie’s legs and your face buried in his chest. His snoring is gentle but deep, his arm lazily wrapped around you. You figure he eventually got himself out of you, the subtle loss something you probably whined at. 

You feel a smile creep its way onto your face, the satisfaction of waking up how you did fills your lungs with air. You peer your head back to get a look at his face, relaxed and unguarded, even from sex. Your eyes take in every detail of his handsome face, the slight hook of his nose, the stray hairs by his left eyebrow, the freckles scattered… God, he is beautiful. 

You lean in to kiss his jawline, nuzzling your nose into the scratch of his stubble. The arm around your torso flexes, a snore interrupted. A huff of laughter escapes you, the simplicity of it just so mesmerizing. He shifts slightly, arm tightening around you as he adjusts himself. You cuddle yourself closer into his chest, inhaling the scent that was unmistakably him. No cologne, deodorant or aftershave disguising it. The smell alone makes you shudder in happiness. 

You lay breathing him in for another thirty minutes before he finally stirs awake.

When he finally does, eyes squinting around as he blinks awake, arms flexing away as he yawns and stretches, you lay there patiently as he gets his bearings.

“Fuck.” His arms go limp, and he buries himself into your hair, breathing in the scent. “How long—” he yawns, cutting himself off. “How long have you been awake?”

Your shoulders shrug, and he huffs out a breath of laughter. He feels your stomach grumble against his. “Long enough, huh.” He kisses into your hair, giving you one last good squeeze. “Alright, let’s go get some food.”

You protest getting out of bed with him but the second growl your stomach makes, this one even more audible, has Eddie give a look to say it wasn’t debatable. Food first.

Down the stairs, you sit in a pair of shorts with the same over sized sweater at the kitchen island, chewing happily on the food Eddie prepared for you, a fucking snack tray. He put it in front of you, and you look up at him with an eyebrow raised peculiarly. “I fucking love snacks.” He says, grabbing a slice of cheese off your tray.

Dylan jogs into the kitchen, stealing a cracker off your plate as he dashes around the counter. “Going out with friends, be back later.” He looks dressed up for a bar, an outfit you knew he would wear to impress. It's a weird thought that you know him like this. 

“Don’t be stupid, don’t drink and drive.” Eddie tells him, leaning forward on the island. 

“Got it!” 

“Was that good or bad, I couldn’t tell.” You ask him when the front door closes. 

“I wouldn’t go towards either. He’s being civil for the sake of you but he’s much more pissed when you’re not here. Trust me.” Eddie answers you, eyes wide at the end of the sentence.

A pang of guilt hits you square in the chest. He sees your expression falter, giving you a soft look. “Don’t feel guilty. I deserve it. He damn well has a right to act this way when I betrayed him.”

Fuck, that was a level of emotional maturity you weren’t used to seeing in men. Threw you for a loop. 

“So, sweetheart. I got a question for you.” You perk up, leaning towards him at the opposite end of the island counter. “Will you allow me to take you out on a proper date?”

The sentence drives your heart wild, your stomach turning itself inside out. You nod your head rapidly, gulping. “When?”

“Well it’s four o’clock now…if I drive you home so you can get ready we could probably make our 7 o’clock reservation.”

-

Now you find yourself in your bathroom, your makeup scattered across the counter as you dance to an upbeat playlist, your quick glance to the clock indicating you still have an hour before he comes to pick you up at 6:45. 

You're driving yourself mad with the want to outdo yourself, you want a visual reaction from this man. He was kind enough to let you know it was more upscale, but that was all the detail he was willing to provide to you. You knew your initial reaction to wear something to rile him up wasn’t any good, and the warning he had given you had driven you to believe he knew you well enough to know you would if he hadn’t.

You hear the front door of the apartment close, Skyler getting home from day working at a cellphone carrier store. She hated the dumb customers but loved the commission she made when she sold plans. She places her things down, making her way straight to the bathroom to where the blaring music could be heard. “Going out somewhere?” She asks, slightly yelling to be heard over the music. 

You reach to the Bluetooth speaker, turning down the volume a few notches. “Hot date with Eddie!” You tell her excitedly, leaning in to finish the last of the eyeliner. 

“Oh, I didn’t know you had one planned!”

“Neither did I! He told me about the reservation just like an hour ago after he dropped me off.”

“Just like that?” She asks, leaning in. 

You pause the movement of your brush on your face, using some setting powder for a final touch. “Just like that.” 

Her eyebrows raised to her forehead quickly. “Okay, damn. That’s…that’s romantic.”

A smile lands on your face, and you close it to prevent the wider smile making its way to prevent teasing. “Mmmhmm.” 

Face setting spray finishes your face before you run to your room to do the most daunting thing about getting ready…picking out your outfit. 

It has to be something your ex hasn't taken off you either. There goes that hot blue little dress, and this green strappy number, and that really cute skirt…damn this might be harder than you thought. You used a lot of secret weapons from your arsenal with Dylan. 

“I’m out of clothes!” You yell to your roommate, frustrated out of your mind. 

“You still haven’t used that pretty dress you bought last month…the one still with a tag on it?” She calls out, referring to a dress you found that fit you perfectly but didn’t have anything to wear it for.

“That one is for special occasions!”

“Bitch, your boyfriend made spontaneous dinner date plans for your first date. It’s a special occasion, wear the damn dress!”

As it cascades down your body as you place it over your head, it couldn’t have been more perfect. 

-

Sitting in your living room while waiting to be picked up should not be this jittery, butterflies doing a little dancey-dance in your stomach as Skyler absentmindedly binge-watches Buffy. You sent Eddie your address at his request about ten minutes ago, and now it's just a waiting game. 

Three knocks at the door find you standing in a second, tripping over your own feet to get to the door. You open it to him, standing there with a single red rose. He's dressed in a gorgeous leather outdoor jacket, one only a man as fine as he is could pull off as well as he does and still make it look classy. He wears a pair of slacks with a dark red button down tucked loosely into it, the first three buttons undone. 

Something tells you he’ll be moving his sleeves up his arms later. Fuck. He has never looked hotter. 

“Hi, gorgeous. Ready?”

You nodded frantically, picking the open jacket up from the coatrack you had placed conveniently by the door. You turn back to face to your roommate to tell her not to wait up and face her, her mouth wide open. “I see it now.” She whispers, her jaw dropping again. 

Your eyebrows raise to her in response but a glare reaches as your face as you turn around, something in you stupidly angry about this. Good. Look from afar. 

-

The drive down is filled to the brim with unbridled anticipation, neither one saying much as you watch the pretty lights pass by on the way to the unspecified restaurant. 

He places his hand on your thigh, thumb caressing it gently. Your dress is just long enough for his pinky to touch your leg but the rest lay on the soft material. “You look gorgeous, by the way.” He compliments you, and you suddenly realize he’s barely watching the road. 

“Hmm.” You answer, nodding at the road. “My heart stopped when I opened the door, you are unfairly handsome.”

“Unfairly?” Eddie asks, voice incredulous at your word choice. 

“Mmhmm.” 

He chuckles, suddenly making a left turn into a group of scattered restaurants and your breath hitches, wondering, no. 

Holy fuck, it is. 

He pulls up and you’re peering up at what is known as the most expensive restaurant in town, the kind of place you only went with when your parents were celebrating an anniversary or something and were paying.

The kind of place that had good ass food, but you need to be able to pay minimum, 100 per person. The wine is automatically served, and the only music is a light piano melody. “Wanted to take you out for a treat. Somewhere I know damn well men your age can’t afford.”

That sentence alone drenches the lacy panties you wore. 

He walks to your side after getting out, opening the door for you. The act isn’t much, something a man or two has done before him, but from him, it was like a goddamn touch of Midas. 

The low light and piano music engulfs you, the conversation low as you see everyone is dressed in their best. You find yourself intimidated but Eddie walks in like he belongs. 

Cause he does. 

He asks for a reservation under his last name, and the waitress finds it right away. You can’t help but notice the way her eyes light up and damn, you usually don’t describe yourself as the jealous type but when it comes to him it's hard not to be. 

As you get to your booth, Eddie takes off his jacket, revealing his sleeves up to his elbows, and it’s literally mouth watering. He does it so swiftly, and before you can even sit, he holds his hand out for your jacket as well. You take it off to hand it over, which he hangs ever so gently over his jacket on the hook. 

Your hostess asks for drinks, Eddie asks for the drink menu and some water, you ask for water as well, hoping to find a suitable cocktail when the menu comes along. 

The low lighting is flattering on him sitting across from you, and all his attention is on you, even as his eyes roam the menu. The conversation flows effortlessly, and you finally ask Eddie for his story, something even through the lust you’ve had a desire to know. 

He describes growing up in Hawkins, Indiana, a rebel without a cause with a touch for the dramatics and running a role play DnD group. He describes his struggles as he failed grade twelve twice due to a large population chalking it up to laziness when in reality no one listened to his inability to sit down long enough to learn anything. He tells you about this group of friends he made in his final and successful attempt at grade 12, the ones that eventually kicked his ass into gear and none of them he would’ve been here without, and though they were all older like him, you hoped one day you’d be lucky enough to meet them face-to-face. 

His attempt at college, realizing it wasn’t for him and dropping out a semester in when a local mechanic he knew offered an apprenticeship spot at his garage.

2 years into it, he finds out he enjoys it and he made enough money to move out. At 22 he meets a woman who comes into his shop with a check engine light on, and that was how he met Dylan's mom. You fought so hard not to roll your eyes as he described building a life with her and finding out she was pregnant, but it was hard not to be jealous. 

Apparently she was the perfect mom from the outside, her connection to her son was unbeatable. Eddie soon found out she was having an affair with one of her co-workers, the same one she had told him time and time again that, no, of course he didn’t have a crush on her, that’s silly. 

(They were fucking the whole time.)

If anything, it was the reason he had let Dylan find out so quickly. An affair would’ve made it ten times worse. 

He finishes off, describing how difficult it was to raise him after she ran off with the co-worker, eventually finding something that worked for them. All in all, he was proud of the person he had raised Dylan to become, hopeful for their relationship. 

You hung onto every word he told you through that meal like he had hung the moon and the stars. As he finishes, wiping his hands on his napkin as he ate, your eyes fixated on his forearms flexing, he apologizes, claiming he felt bad for talking the whole time.

“Oh, I could listen to you for hours.” It falls out of your mouth before you could stop it.

“Well I’m sick of myself. Tell me about you.” He comments, so you did. 

You tell him about being raised in the small town in rural America, being a teenager in the 2010s a slight difference than in the late 90s. Your stupid first boyfriend who dumped you as soon as he slept with you, your mom who meant well but often valued the opinions of others over her daughters needs and wants, your stoner of a best friend who had an opinion that you valued most of all, and how you met your current roommate through a facebook ad but it turned out you really clicked. 

Your story had no beginning and no end, just going off your life based on what you felt like you had wanted to tell him. 

“Dylan is a good boyfriend, by the way.” Eddie laughed at the absurdity of your sentence, all plates in front of you containing any food long gone while you had your third cocktail and Eddie drank some whiskey. Were you a bit tipsy? Yes. That sentence couldn’t have left your mouth without it. “After the lack of commitment on a stupid amount of dudes, his willingness to go all in, as we said that’s what we had both wanted, was exceedingly refreshing.” You took another gulp of it, the sugary drink hitting nicely. “He was stable, kind, thoughtful, but something was missing. In him I felt safety.” You pause, looking at him. “In you, I feel freedom.” 

The conversation moved away from Dylan, thank God. As he asks for one more before the bill you can't help yourself. “Where do you see this going?” You gulp, scratching your nose, and paying close attention to your glass. “If you say anything other than long term, I might be sick.”

To Eddie, your level of honesty was refreshing. “Baby, anything but long-term has never been an option to me.”

Eddie gives his credit card to the waitress, a moon eyed girl who he had barely paid attention to. Either because he was being courteous with his attention or he just didn’t bother when you were right in front of him, it didn’t matter, but the thing itself gave you immense satisfaction. (It was the latter, for the record. Eddie had barely noticed her.)

As he helped you back into your jacket, slipping on his own, a feeling of intense satisfaction, pure bliss invaded your entire system. There was no first date that would ever be as good as this one. The set up, picking you up, the nice ass restaurant, the easy conversation, and lastly, the knowledge that when you got to his, he would be all over you, and you him. 

Nothing was ever gonna be this good. 

Good. You didn’t want anyone or anything but him. 

-

Your head found his shoulder on the way back to his place, hands intertwined on your lap on the silent ride home, soft rock playing on his radio. As his truck reaches his driveway, you notice it's empty. Eddie picked up on this as your head perks up upon the observation. 

“Asked if he could crash at a friend’s place tonight.” Eddie explains, having placed the truck in park, sitting back in his seat. “We got the place to ourselves.” 

You grinned giddily, and you weren’t sure if it was the three and a half drinks or the troublesome feeling of your lacy panties being thoroughly soaked, but you were out his truck door before he could even register it. He climbs out, quickly shuffling behind you and he makes a giggle pour out of you as he scares you as you wait patiently at the door for him to unlock it. 

He kisses your neck as he reaches in with one hand to unlock the door, and you open it and turn to him, yanking on the collar of his leather jacket. “Need you.” You mutter in between kisses, only in the entrance of the house but if you took another step without kissing him, you were gonna lose your mind. “Want. You.” 

Your need is outrageously attractive, Eddie leaning into every kiss you've given him with the same amount of fervor, his hands holding your waist and fisting at the deliciously beautiful dress you had worn. You just had this dress? Waiting around? And you hadn’t blessed anyone with the perfect sight that was you dressed in it until now? What a goddamn sin.

It’ll be a shame when it hits the floor but this dress is only second to how goddamn good you looked naked as far as Eddie's concerned. Speaking of which…

Eddie continually kisses you, pulling you in against him, your breath hitches pulling your coat off and letting it fall to the floor. He backs you up to the stairs, and your foot hits the first step up, and as you’re starting to climb backwards Eddie pushes his body on yours, forcing you to sit. He takes it a step further by leaning in to kiss your neck, and your back falls onto the steps as well, just like he was hoping. Your legs open, welcoming his hips into yours. 

Eddie only starts with soft kisses, just to smell your perfume and to feel your skin beneath his lips. “This dress, baby, this dress.” He pauses, a look of lust deep within his brown eyes. “Oh, fuck, this dress.” He couldn’t seem to tell you anything else, but you were thankful the gut feeling that told you to buy it was right. You tug on his collar, pulling it down his back to take it off.

Eddie assists you, letting the jacket fall clumsily down the three steps.

“My dress? This shirt!” You gasp, gripping onto it softly. “You look so good. The buttons undone on the top were..” You sigh as he kisses his way down to your shoulder. “…a nice touch.”

His hand pushes up your dress, hands roughly smoothing up your thigh, and one gets to the lacey panties. As his hand brushes the panties to take them off he gives you a manic smile. He takes them off, slowly, head against your shoulder as he does so. As the pair is taken off your foot, he inhales sharply at the sight of them, holding them in front of your body where he can see them. You see his hands touch where you soaked it all night, playing with the slick that has already gathered. “You’re not getting these back.”

He tosses them back playfully, going back to attack your neck. Eventually he leaves kisses all down your torso, and he kisses down your clothed thigh before making a big show of lifting the dress hem up, kissing along your thigh again. Only this time, your thigh wasn’t covered, and it was towards your now uncovered and absolutely throbbing cunt. As he moves closer, you start to whine, as with each kiss he adds more wetness, more tongue. Finally his mouth is right next to your core, and with his head in your skirt, he reaches for each leg to put them on his shoulders. 

He goes straight in, tongue attacking your clit, your still covered feet dig into his back and a choked out moan leaves your throat. Eddie’s lips leave your pussy, his shining eyes in your sight as he popped his head from underneath your dress. “Be loud, show me how much you love my tongue all over your pussy. C’mon. Wanna hear you. If I catch you holding back again you’ll be sorry.” He leans in without another thought, and his tongue takes no time to continue. 

“Oh, fuck!” You felt slightly embarrassed by it, but you were more worried about what he meant at the end there, by you’ll be sorry. If he edged you just for the hell of it, what was he gonna do as a punishment? “Your tongue, feels so fucking good, Ed.”

“Tastes—” he mutters, mostly to himself. “Tastes like heaven. Love your sweet, perfect, beautiful pussy.” The acoustics of talking through your dress didn’t make sense, but you could hear him loud and clear. “Look how wet this pussy is already for me, just dripping, oh fuck.”

“Fuck, you look, fuck, so good Ed. So fucking hot.” 

“You were wet from my appearance alone?” Eddie asks, peering up at you from behind your dress.

“Since the first time I met you.” You gasp out, leaning onto your elbows on the step but finding your head heavy on your neck to look up at him.

“Jesus christ.” You smiled down at him, hand reaching forward for him. He interlocks his with yours and keeps it there as he dives back in your dress. Something feels different…the heat concentrates on your clit as he feverishly attacks it. 

“Holy shit--!” You cry out, jerking your upper body forward. “Ed, holy fuck keep doing that.” His other hand joins him, hooking into you and immediately connecting with your g-spot. As you get closer, he can feel your hand tighten on his own as your moans lose all inhibition and you whine, all high pitched, the sound echoing beautifully in the empty house. “Ed, fuck—” Your orgasm snuck up on you, the heat expanding through your thighs and legs until the edge hits you in a silent scream, and you gush all over his face and your dress and the stairs. 

Thank god Eddie had hardwood. 

He comes out from your dress, and you look at him in disbelief. “What—” you start, still unraveling. “I don’t even—” 

“C’mon.” He mutters, kissing your forehead. You follow him up to his room, knees already weak but moving anyway. 

Your bodies collide with one another, lips mashing in hot, dirty kisses. “Need to fuck you now.” Eddie breathes, his hands working at the zipper on your back. The dress drops to reveal what he already knew, and that it was you weren't wearing a bra. “Perfect fucking tits, fuck.”

He tugs at his belt and untucks his pants, making him look like a horny teenager. Maybe not horny, just a few drinks in. But when he had what he called the hottest girlfriend, he felt like anyone could hardly blame him. His pants fly off and he undoes the last few buttons on his shirt before he yanks it off by the back. 

When he’s finally undressed, he pauses as he gets a good look at you, the both of you ridiculously exposed. “Fuck. Am I so goddamn lucky I get to spend my night with you?”

“Just kiss me.” You tell him, reaching out for him and he lurches forward, wrapping his hands in your hair and taking your lips in a wet kiss. He leads you to his bed, taking step by step as you fall backwards onto it, and none of it is awkward, just perfect. He crawls on top as your leg makes its way around his hips, and he can’t even bother to tease you because if he doesn’t get his cock inside you he is gonna lose it. 

You didn’t expect it so soon, usually getting a tease but the shock pulls out a loud moan from you, Eddie moaning at the same time as he pushes himself into you. He puts his forehead against yours, eyes closed. Yours are too, taking in the feeling of his cock inside you. No matter how many times, it's like you forgot how fucking good it felt, every time. 

“God. I didn’t know a pussy could feel this…fuck.” He mutters as his words make you tighten around him. “Fucking intoxicating.” He leans in to nip lightly against your neck, whispering into your skin. “Can’t fucking get enough of it. And when I—” he lips his hips out of yours, fucking into you slowly, “—fuck you, there’s nothing fucking better.” 

His hips continue, his head remaining in your neck, his body against yours as he just feels you against him. Your hands roam the muscles of his back, nails digging in as his hips gradually fuck you harder. “You always take my cock so goddamn well, baby. Such a good whore for me.” 

You whimper; all coherent thought gone as the feeling of him is pure perfection. 

“Fucking love your cock in me Ed! Fuck, just like- just like that.” 

“Oh, I know you love my cock. You moan like a whore for it. Let me hear you baby.” 

The whines you didn’t realize you were holding back came out of your mouth and he grabbed your hair harshly, and you let out a higher one. “Don’t hold back, remember?”

You nod your head, a restricted move because of his hold on you. Eddie lets go, his hand framing your face delicately. He leans in to kiss you, fierce and protective. “God, you’re so much more…more than I had ever wanted…ever hoped for…” his voice is softer now, whispering into your neck. 

“Ed. You’re so good…to me. So lucky.” 

He places a hand on your clit, rubbing gently at it. “Fuck, baby I’m gonna cum. Cum with me?”

“What am I gonna say, no? To that?” you gasp out. He chuckles softly, the laughter hot against your neck. 

“Close.” You tell him and he picks up the pace, holding back a bit for you. “Eddie I—” and a full moan leaves your lips and as you tighten around him, his hips rutting into you. 

Eddie moans loudly as he cums, a sound you wouldn’t blame angels for if they had used at the gates of heaven. 

His weight is heavy on you, having collapsed. He kisses whatever skin he can reach, your shoulder, collarbone, jawline, corner of your mouth before wrapping your lips in a kiss you can only describe as breathtakingly romantic. 

Fuck were you falling, falling hard. And as Eddie lay on top of you for a solid ten minutes, caressing your skin and kissing you softly, still inside you while basking in the afterglow, he is thinking the exact same thing.

Also that he needs to clean the stairs before Dylan gets home. 

-

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[ophanum]

can I request (i feel like more platonic but you can decide) Furious Five, Po, Master Shifu, and Tai Lung with a snow leopard who can manage to blend in snow and fog making people believe she is a ghost? it's not part of kung fu, it's her hobby to scare bandits from stealing without using violence.

RED - ! Kung Fu Panda

ft. Furious five, Po, Master Shifu, Redemption! Tai Lung x Snow Leopard! Reader

"Hearts on the walls, but no love in these streets. Appetite for destruction, a girl's gotta eat, yeah." - Red by Alex Boniello, Kylie Cantrall, and Walt Disney

Po

When Po first hears about the “snow ghost” legend from the villagers, he’s beyond excited. Stories spread quickly about a mysterious snow leopard, half-seen in the mist, who frightens bandits off the mountain paths without lifting a paw. Naturally, Po assumes you’re some kind of ancient spirit and is fascinated until he finally meets you and realizes it’s all a clever act.

He becomes your biggest fan, frequently pestering you to share your “scare tactics.” His excitement is boundless, and he tries imitating your techniques, though his own approach is far from stealthy. Po’s natural enthusiasm and not-so-quiet demeanor don’t lend themselves to subtlety, but he adores being part of your adventures.

You invite him along on a patrol, and Po can barely contain his giggles when he sees the bandits running in terror at the faintest glimpse of you. He makes sure to tell everyone in the Valley about the amazing “ghost” that guards the mountain, embellishing the stories until the villagers are convinced they’re protected by a fierce spirit.

Tigress

Tigress has immense respect for your restraint. She has always valued strength and discipline, and to see someone choose to defend their home without fighting intrigues her. While her instinct leans towards direct confrontation, she appreciates your commitment to finding an alternative that’s just as effective.

Tigress becomes curious about how you blend so seamlessly with the snow and fog, watching with intense focus the first time she sees you vanish into the mist. She doesn’t say much, but she’s deeply impressed by how you combine your skills with cleverness. Although her style is distinct, she practices what she learns from observing you, eventually finding her own methods for blending into certain environments.

Though she keeps her admiration subtle, she’ll sometimes spar with you, hoping to pick up more of your quiet, calculating approach. She’s thrilled to train alongside someone who proves that power can take many forms, and she may even share some of her own techniques with you as a sign of mutual respect.

Monkey

Monkey finds your ghost act legendary. The moment he realizes you’re using stealth and strategy rather than brute force, he’s ready to become your accomplice. He admires that you’ve chosen a path without violence, turning your environment into your ally. For him, your approach has the perfect mix of humor and strategy, making it more of an art than a skill.

Eager to assist, he starts joining you on your “ghost patrols,” and his agility adds an extra element of surprise. He’ll disappear into trees or leap from cliffs to help create even more suspense, and his quick-witted ideas make him a natural partner for you. Monkey delights in watching bandits stumble over each other in fear, convinced they’ve crossed into some supernatural realm.

He brings a playful twist to your work, coming up with ideas to amplify your “haunting” presence. “Let’s create moving shadows with these branches,” he whispers one night, rigging up sticks and leaves to dance eerily in the moonlight. Thanks to Monkey, you earn a reputation as the most unpredictable ghost in the valley, and he never stops bragging about how he’s part of your “ghost crew.”

Crane

Crane is amazed by how skillfully you blend into the snow, creating the appearance of a guardian spirit without ever needing to fight. Your approach aligns with his own tendency towards gentler methods, so he quickly develops a deep admiration for your style.

As a supportive friend, he offers to be your “eyes in the sky” when you patrol. From above, he can spot bandits before they even reach the mountains, warning you of their approach with subtle calls. He becomes your quiet lookout, ensuring no one surprises you.

Sometimes, he’ll add a touch of theatricality to your ghost act, swooping down and creating mysterious gusts of wind that make you seem even more like a phantom. He enjoys the role, finding a sense of peaceful purpose in your shared mission. Crane takes to calling you the “Mist Guardian” and tells others that they should “leave a little gift” for you at the mountain's edge if they want to avoid your ghostly wrath.

Viper

Viper has a quiet admiration for your strategy and finds your methods brilliant. She respects your control and appreciates that you choose to avoid violence unless absolutely necessary. Your non-combative style resonates with her own thoughtful approach to combat.

She’s fascinated by your techniques and sometimes asks you to show her how you blend with the fog. Viper wants to learn how to incorporate this into her own martial arts, as she values the ability to move undetected when necessary. Together, you two practice silent movement and controlled breathing, honing your skills in the art of blending.

Viper becomes one of your most enthusiastic supporters and talks highly of your skills to the rest of the group. She often calls you her “mystical sister,” appreciating the unique perspective you bring to protecting the valley. She even suggests you two go on occasional “stealth missions” together, so she can see your techniques in action.

Mantis

Mantis is wildly entertained by your scare tactics. He’s all about clever strategies that make people think twice, and your ghostly presence is his idea of the perfect deterrent.

He enjoys “helping” from time to time, usually by hitching a ride on your fur and whispering in a spooky voice to add an extra layer of fright to the experience. Mantis loves watching the bandits’ reactions when they hear unexpected voices coming from seemingly nowhere.

The aftermath is Mantis’s favorite part. He’s quick to gather all the funniest details about the bandits’ reactions and shares them with the group, exaggerating for dramatic effect. He even invents legends about you, calling you the “Phantom Guardian,” and he swears he’ll write a story about the “Ghost of the Mountain” one day.

Master Shifu

Shifu has high regard for your dedication to non-violent protection, seeing it as an admirable choice that requires a deep level of discipline. He might not always show his appreciation openly, but he respects that you’ve crafted a role of defender without needing direct confrontation.

When he learns about your methods, he recognizes the skill involved in blending with the snow and fog, and he subtly encourages the rest of the Furious Five to observe and learn from your approach. To him, you embody the idea that true strength isn’t always about force, and he may even hint that you’re an example they could all learn from.

He’s quietly proud of your efforts and will sometimes watch from afar, ensuring that you’re safe on your patrols. Shifu may even thank you directly for your contributions to the valley, a rare acknowledgment from the usually reserved master. He might not show it outwardly, but he considers you one of the most resourceful protectors in the region.

Tai Lung

Tai Lung is deeply intrigued by your method of protection and fascinated by your ability to guard the valley without ever needing to fight. Coming from a background steeped in power and aggression, he’s both impressed and humbled by your approach.

If he joins you on a patrol, he’s initially silent, observing the way you weave through snow and fog with effortless grace. He finds himself drawn to the idea of protecting without force, seeing it as a form of strength he hadn’t considered before.

Tai Lung tries to follow your example, though his instincts sometimes get the better of him. He admires your patience and considers you an unlikely role model, one that challenges his view of what it means to be strong. Though he might not say it, he respects you deeply, viewing you as a kind of mentor in restraint and control.

-

The fog rolled thick over the mountainside, curling around tree trunks and swallowing rocky ledges. A faint shimmer of white slipped through the mist, moving with an unearthly stillness that no mortal could manage. From below, the valley bandits, their faces pale with fright, muttered nervously.

“Did you hear?” one whispered, gripping his spear a little tighter. “They say a ghost haunts these peaks—a spirit with fur as white as death itself.”

With a quiet chuckle, you—the snow leopard of the Valley—melted deeper into the mist, every step perfectly silent. You’d learned the art of scaring bandits away without needing to fight long ago; it was your signature way of keeping peace. Out here, the cold air carried whispers, and the fog was the perfect veil. So, you moved closer, letting your tail flick just barely into view before vanishing again.

One of the bandits gasped. “Did you see that?”

“You’re just seeing things,” his friend chided, though he took a cautious step back himself.

In another instant, you appeared again, only your sharp blue eyes showing through the fog like two frozen flames. That was enough—the two men shrieked, dropping their weapons and stumbling over one another as they bolted down the mountain path, disappearing into the trees below. You waited until you could no longer hear their footsteps, your amused smile spreading as the air around you settled back into silence.

“Wow! That was amazing!” a familiar voice cheered behind you. You turned to see Po, bouncing with excitement, a wide grin stretching across his face. “The ‘Snow Ghost’ strikes again! They didn’t stand a chance!”

You let out a soft laugh. “They’ll think twice before coming up here again, that’s for sure.”

Po was still bubbling with enthusiasm, eager to see your tactics in action up close. “That’s gotta be the coolest way of keeping people safe that I’ve ever seen! You didn’t even have to touch them!”

Just as Po finished speaking, a low growl sounded nearby. “Did you even consider if anyone might be watching?” Tigress asked as she emerged from the trees, her eyes narrowed with concern. “They were still carrying weapons.” She glanced at Po and added, “A little less cheering and they might not have noticed you.”

You gave a light nod of understanding. “True, but you’ve got to admit that scaring them off without a fight is sometimes… effective,” you offered, catching the faintest smirk that Tigress tried to hide.

“Effective,” she echoed with a nod, casting a sideways glance. “I didn’t say it wasn’t impressive.” There was something like admiration in her gaze as she continued, “Blending with your surroundings, using the mist like that… It’s a useful skill.”

A flicker of movement overhead caught your attention, and you saw Crane gliding down to perch on a low-hanging branch. “Keeping to the shadows again?” he teased lightly, settling his wings. “I’ll admit, it’s pretty remarkable what you do.” He tilted his head with a grin. “Though, if you need extra eyes from above, just give a signal. I can always scout the area.”

A spark of pride warmed your chest. These were friends who understood your quiet approach, who valued it just as much as you did. You watched as Crane spread his wings wide, demonstrating how he’d glide down to create a gust of wind that would stir the mist around you, amplifying your ghostly appearance.

“Oh! And wait, wait!” Monkey piped up, jumping in from a nearby branch, grinning as he moved his arms in sweeping, exaggerated gestures. “You could always rig up a few branches to move in the wind. I’m telling you, they’d go from scared to screaming!”

The idea made you laugh softly. Monkey’s antics often bordered on the theatrical, but his creative enthusiasm added an extra layer of fun to your mission. “I think I’ll stick with what I know works,” you replied, though you made a mental note of his ideas. Sometimes, a bit of drama worked wonders.

“Now, now, let’s not get carried away,” Master Shifu’s voice came from behind you, the red panda giving a thoughtful look over the group. “Though, I must admit,” he said, glancing up at you with respect, “what you do is unique—and honorable. Protecting the Valley without harm… there’s something admirable in that choice.”

You felt a swell of pride at Shifu’s words. Shifu, though reserved, valued wisdom over brute strength, and that was exactly what you hoped to embody. As he watched, you melted back into the fog to demonstrate, turning your head just enough for your pale blue eyes to peer back out before you fully disappeared into the mist.

“I think she’s trying to show off now,” Mantis muttered playfully, crossing his tiny arms.

“Show off?” Tai Lung’s voice cut in, his tone one of mild intrigue. He’d arrived quietly, his towering form blending into the shadows. His eyes held an intensity as he watched you, though not with his former fury. Since his redemption, Tai Lung had taken to observing and appreciating non-violent approaches, curious about a strength that was more restraint than force. He inclined his head, his gaze softened. “There’s wisdom in a fight avoided. Perhaps it’s a lesson I should’ve learned long ago.”

Tai Lung’s quiet acknowledgment was unexpected, and you inclined your head in a brief bow of mutual respect. In a rare moment of vulnerability, Tai Lung admitted, “You’ve shown that power doesn’t always mean force. I think… that’s something I should remember.”

Just as he finished, Po let out an amused sigh. “Oh, come on, Tai Lung! You know that everyone’s just impressed by the legendary ‘Snow Ghost.’” He grinned, looking around at the group as he continued, “Just imagine, if I’d seen her out here on my first visit to the Valley, I’d have been toast!”

“Don’t give her any ideas,” Tigress replied dryly, though a hint of a smile tugged at her lips.

Before the group could continue, Crane’s sharp eyes spotted movement below. Another group of bandits approached the valley entrance, clearly unaware of the fate of the others before them.

“Another set already?” Mantis asked, exasperated. “What do they think is going to happen?”

You exchanged a determined look with your friends and wordlessly vanished back into the mist. Po and the others watched in awe as you moved forward, your fur nearly disappearing against the snowy backdrop.

Watching from above, your friends saw the bandits’ eyes widen with dread as you emerged like a phantom, appearing just close enough for them to glimpse your icy stare. You allowed the fog to gather around you, lingering in view just long enough for them to understand the warning in your eyes. In seconds, the bandits took off, their courage gone, scattering back down the mountain in a hurry.

When you returned, the group was ready with quiet applause. Even Tai Lung nodded in admiration. “That,” he said, “is how to inspire fear without lifting a finger.”

“I think it’s more than fear,” Shifu noted thoughtfully, glancing up at you. “It’s a way of reminding others that sometimes the strongest power is the gentlest hand.”

Po clapped you on the back with a grin. “I think we can all agree—the Valley’s got the best ‘ghost’ in the land. Who needs a fight when they have you?”

And as the mist wrapped around you once more, a sense of quiet satisfaction settled over the mountains. You’d protected the valley again, keeping peace with a bit of stealth, some clever tricks, and a loyal family who believed in the strength of a peaceful heart.

[daisynik7]

“Into you” by Fabolous for Connie Springer- smut + fluff

(S4 connie ofc)

Into You

I think you’re truly something special, just what my dreams are really made of

Pairing: Connie Springer x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~2.4k

cw: super fluffy, kinda cheesy, college au, modern day au, lots of basketball terms (applies specifically to NCAA and NBA), explicit language, smut – PIV sex (cowgirl position), implied creampie

Summary: You and Connie Springer have been close since childhood, growing up as next-door neighbors and best friends. The bond the two of you share is undeniable, but you’ve never been able to admit how deep your feelings are, either to yourself or to him. You continue to support him as his friend while he pursues his career as a basketball player, trying to get drafted into the NBA. Though the journey has its ups and downs, one thing is for certain: The two of you will always have each other, forever and ever. 

Author’s Notes: Hi anon! Thanks so much for requesting this song for the y2k karaoke party because it’s one of my FAVORITES! It really gives me Love & Basketball vibes, another favorite of mine that also happens to be a classic in the y2k era. This little fic is very loosely based off of that, so I hope you enjoy! Also, all the basketball/NBA tidbits are mostly from being with my boyfriend, who is a huge NBA fan, so yeah, sorry if any details are inaccurate lol. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy! MDNI banner credit to @/cafekitsune. Header image from Pinterest (Slam Dunk manga).

“You have to pinky promise, okay?” Connie sticks his tiny finger out, wiggling it in front of your face, sucking on his cherry-flavored lollipop, lips and tongue-stained red. You’re both five years old, sitting cross-legged in the front of his yard, taking a break from playing hide-and-seek.

“What am I pinky promising?” you ask, voice squeaky and curious.

“That we’ll be best friends forever and ever! No matter what!” he exclaims, beaming at you with his eyes wide, twinkling earnestly. 

You only need to think for a few seconds before you’re hooking your pinky with his, committing to this promise for the rest of your lives. 

~~~

Ten years later, Connie makes it on the varsity basketball team in your high school. It’s rare for a freshman to make it to varsity at Ragako; the coaches must have seen that spark in him that you and his family have witnessed since he started playing at ten-years-old. You used to shoot around with him out in his driveway, where his father set up a little hoop. Eventually, the little one got upgraded to a real one, where the height was adjusted appropriately as Connie grew. You became his practice partner, no longer able to compete with him. Instead, you passed him the ball, watching in awe as he made shot after shot, sometimes deep from the street. He’d pick you up and spin you around, the two of you cheering together, impressed by his skills.

Year after year, he only improved. The way he handled the ball, expertly dribbling it between his legs, behind his back, one-handed, without looking. Or the way his feet gracefully shuffled along the court, the distinct squeak from his shoes echoing off the walls as you watch him on the bleachers, playing three-on-three against some of his buddies at the gym. One time, his friend Jean teases you. “You know, you should stop hanging around here or else people might think you’re his groupie.”

Before you can think of a smart comeback, Connie interjects, shoving Jean hard in the arm. “Hey! Leave her alone. I want her here. I only play like this when she’s around. And she’s not a groupie. She’s my best friend.” He wraps his arm around your shoulders, leading you towards the exit while Jean sputters apologies that go ignored. “Sorry about that,” he whispers to you. “Jean is an asshole. I want you around, got it? Forever and ever.”

You smile, leaning into him. “Forever and ever.”

~~~

It’s at the championship game during senior year that you realize that you’re in love with Connie.

Scouts have already contacted him about full-ride scholarships to university, recruiting him for their team. He’s the most celebrated point-guard in your school’s history, his average points and assists per game breaking records. Ever since he joined, your school has made it in the final round each year, last year resulting in a win, this year leading to a second. 

With seconds left on the shot clock, tie game, Ragako with possession, Connie makes his move. He inbounds the ball to his teammate, quickly taking position at the right wing, his sweet spot. As quickly as it leaves his hands, the ball is passed back to him. He shoots it, and as it flies out from his fingers into the air, the buzzer rings, and he makes it. The crowd goes wild; one side of the bleachers erupting into a frenzy, jumping up and down with excitement. Connie’s parents hug each other first, then surround you in their arms, elated. You don’t expect him to celebrate the win with you, not with his entire team huddling around him, splashing water on his head, cheering his name. Not with all the cheerleaders and fans gravitating toward him, eager to be in the presence of a sure-to-be star in the making. So, it surprises you when you see him maneuver his way through the crowd, heading straight towards you. He pounces on you, giving you the biggest, sweatiest hug with tears streaming down his face. It’s a split second where the surrounding noise goes blank and it’s just the two of you there, basking in each other’s warmth. Soon, his parents join you, also crying happily, and it’s in this moment that you realize this is where you want to be: with him. Forever and ever.

~~~

It's no surprise that the two of you attend the same college together. Most people will see it as you following him, but in actuality, Connie agrees to go wherever you go. Lucky for you both, your top choice is a D1 university where he’s offered a scholarship to play for their basketball team. It works out perfectly, as if it were meant to be. 

He’s busy from the get-go, practicing every day until the season starts in November. You become preoccupied with classes, and naturally, the two of you travel your different paths, meeting in the middle whenever you can. When the season official starts, you attend all his home games, cheering for him from the sidelines surrounded by the other students also chanting his name. Weeknights, he’s often too tired to hang out, retreating to his dorm room to fall asleep, only to repeat his busy schedule again the next day. He grows close with his teammates, spending most of his time with them instead of you, which is to be expected. After all, you and Connie are just friends. Sure, you’re completely and madly in love with him, but he’ll never know that. So, you watch from afar as he pursues his career without you in the way. It’s the way it has to be. 

By the time spring semester rolls around, you and Connie barely see each other. You’ll still text, sometimes video chat or talk on the phone. He mostly vents to you about teammates or coaches that have gotten on his nerves that day. He’ll catch you up on the other schools they’ve defeated or the ones that they’ve lost to. Your school’s record is quite good thanks to Connie, who’s only gotten better since high school. If they continue at this rate, they will win the conference tournament, meaning a trip to March Madness, the most prestigious competition in college basketball. Most importantly, it’s one step closer to the NBA.

As expected, the team does win the conference tournament. That night, the entire campus is lively with students buzzing in school spirit, ready to party the rest of the weekend. All you think about is calling Connie to congratulate him, hear his voice and tell him that you’re so proud of him. You debate with yourself for nearly fifteen minutes, staring at his name on your screen, fingers so close to dialing his number. You decide not to go through with it, certain that he’s too busy with his team, too busy with his fans. He’s not thinking about you, not when his whole world is about to change. And you can’t blame him; you’re just friends, and this is the way it has to be.

The following night, your school organizes an impromptu homecoming for the basketball team, welcoming them as they arrive on the bus, fresh from their championship win. They have a  couple days of rest before they leave for the NCAA tournament, but you’re sure they’ll be busy with press and practice until then. You’re not there to greet them when they step off the bus; instead, you’re sulking in your room, buried under the covers, feeling sorry for yourself for ever falling in love with Connie Springer. It’s a sad, pathetic sight, but at least you’re alone for the weekend to do it while your roommate is out visiting her boyfriend out of town. 

You’re surprised to see Connie’s name flash on your phone a few hours later. You let it ring twice before answering. “Hello?”

“Where are you?” he asks. There’s shuffling in the background, as if he’s walking outside. 

“I’m in my room.”

“I’m coming over now.” He hangs up, not giving you any time to respond. You sigh, mentally preparing yourself for what’s to come.

When you open the door to let him in, he wraps his arms around you in a snug embrace. “I missed you.” He pulls off to hold you by the arms, glaring. “Why didn’t you greet me off the bus?”

“I…” you start, unsure how to respond. 

“I was looking for you and you weren’t there. Where were you?”

“I was studying in the library.” This might be the first time you’ve ever lied to him. You feel guilty and gross. 

“Oh,” he says sadly, still staring at you. 

“Congratulations, by the way. It was an amazing win.” You give him a weak smile, blinking away the tears welling in your eyes. You don’t even know why you’re crying; Connie did nothing wrong. You’re letting your emotions get the best of you, and you can’t help but crumble in front of the only person who knows you better than you know yourself. 

“I don’t care about that right now. I care about you. What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing, Connie, I promise.”

“Don’t promise me shit like that. I know you’re upset. Tell me. Please.” His eyes search yours, desperate for an answer. 

You look at his feet, fixating on his shoes, scuffed on the sides from playing. Tears start to drop from your face and on the carpet. “I just…I missed you too. I miss you, Connie. I…I love you.” The confession slips from your mouth in a sniffle, and you’re so upset with yourself for letting it slide in this crucial moment. Neither of you needs the drama of your unrequited love right now. Not you, knowing he’ll be leaving again soon, and especially not him, who has bigger and better things to focus on. 

He gapes at you, stuttering, “You love me?”

You nod, biting your lip.

“Like, love love? Or love like a friend?”

You’re tempted to lie, just to make it easier. But you owe it to Connie to be honest with him. “Love love.”

His mouth is open, eyes bugging out, completely shocked by your admission. Before he can respond, you add, “I’m sorry, Connie. I shouldn’t have told you this right before the tournament, but…I don’t know. It just came out. I’m sorry.”

He stammers, “You’re sorry? This is the best fucking thing I’ve heard in my entire life.” He breaks into a smile, laughing hysterically, an even more bizarre reaction. 

You cross your arms, getting impatient with his ridiculous behavior, eventually grabbing his shoulders to shake him out of his fit. “Connie, what the hell?!”

He wipes his eyes, crying from giggling, beaming at you. “I’ve been in love with since we were kids. Been dreaming of hearing you say that since we were five-years-old.” He hugs you tightly, nuzzling his nose to the top of your head. “I love you and I want to be with you. Forever and ever, right?”

You nestle into his chest, inhaling the familiar scent you missed since he’s been gone. “Forever and ever.” 

~~~

The two of you spend the night together, making love for the first time. His lips are soft against yours, and you smile into his kiss, remembering the day you pinky promised that you’ll be best friends forever and ever, no matter what. His lips were stained red with cherry-flavored candy, looking sickly sweet as he smiled at you. And as you kiss him now, he tastes just as sweet as you imagined he’d be after all these years. 

You kiss him sloppy as you ride his lap, his cock buried deep in your pussy, filling you up to the brim. He moans your name into your mouth as he laps at the saliva collecting on your tongue, slurping your spit, swallowing it thickly. “Fuck,” he groans, hands gripped to your hips, rocking you back and forth on his thighs. “I’ve dreamed about this for so long, baby. So long.”

“Me too,” you whisper, starting to bounce on him, close to your climax. 

“What would you think about? Tell me,” he demands, thumb pressed to your clit, rubbing it raw.

You whine from his touch, increasing your pace, resting your head on his shoulder. “You and me, just like this,” you huff, short of breath. 

“Yeah? You thought about me deep inside you, huh? Fucking this sweet pussy until you come all over my cock, huh?” He thrusts up into you, grip tightening, fingers digging into your flesh. He’s close too, you can feel it.

You moan into his skin, sweat beading on your forehead, throwing your ass back against him in tandem with each pump of his cock. A few more strokes and the two of you come together, the mess spilling onto the sheets as soon as he pulls out. 

He wipes you down with tissues and baby wipes you have handy on your bedside drawer. As soon as you’re both clean, he cradles you in his arms, spooning you from behind. 

“I know this is going to sound super cheesy, but I truly feel like a winner now,” he says, kissing the nape of your neck. 

You chuckle, squeezing his hand in yours. “Wait until you win March Madness. Then you’ll really be a champ.”

“Even if I lose, I’ll still have you. And that’s been my dream all this time.” 

You shift your body to face him, gazing into his eyes. “I thought your dream was to make it into the NBA?”

He smiles, booping you on the nose. “It’s part of the dream, sure. But I wouldn’t be anywhere near where I am now if it wasn’t for you. You kept me going all these years. Knowing you were always on my side gave me the strength I needed to get here. As long as I have you, I’ll be living the dream.” He kisses you on the forehead. “I’m going to love you for the rest of our lives.”

“Forever and ever?”

“Forever and ever.”

~~~

In an upset, your school loses in the Final Four. It’s the furthest they’ve gotten in university history, and a large part of that is due to Connie and his extraordinary performance as their point guard. His efforts do not go unnoticed; his coaches and many prospective agents have contacted him, encouraging him to apply for the NBA draft. 

June of the same year, Connie Springer is drafted tenth in the first round and you’re sitting right beside him with his parents, cheering for him. Just as you have throughout all these years, and just as you will for the rest of your lives. Forever and ever. 

[munsonsmixtapes]

Hi I hope you are having a great day.

I was wondering if you could write more about Eddie Munson dating a Swiftie.

- Swiftie anon

um yes absolutely!

I saw a tiktok where a girl was showing her boyfriend All Too Well (10 Minute Version) which is what this was inspired by. If I can find it, I'll link it here!

"So this one is allegedly about Jake Gyllenhall," you tell him as you put on the next song, turning it up since it's the one you really to see his reaction to.

"How do you know this?"

"The internet, baby. That's why I say allegedly because there's no actual confirmation that it's about him, but I mean, it's pretty clear that it is."

"This is ten minutes?" He asks as he looks at the little screen in his car that shows what song is playing.

Sure, a lot of the songs he listens to are much longer than that, but that's expected with the genres he listens to. It's not very common for a pop song to exceed five minutes so he thinks there must be a lot that needs to be said.

"Yes," you nod. "But I promise it won't even feel like. Oh, and there's a short film as well that we can watch later."

"A short film?"

Eddie doesn't know why that surprises him. Considering everything he's heard about this woman from you, it seems like she's always doing something and even though he's never really been a huge fan of hers, he can still appreciate how much she loves her job and how much effort and love she puts into each project.

"Yes! It really shows what their relationship was like and puts the whole thing into perspective."

The lyrics start and you're singing along, even going as far as pulling out a red scarf from your purse and wrapping it around your neck. Eddie looks at you briefly before turning back to the road as he laughs how committed to the bit you are.

You're singing along to the lyrics as Eddie tries to focus on them, pausing the song after only a few lines.

I walked through the door with you, the air was cold But something 'bout it felt like home somehow And I left my scarf there at your sister's house And you've still got it in your drawer, even now

"Pause," he says, trying to wrap his head around what he's just heard.

"He kept her scarf?" The whole thing seems so weird to him. He understands to an extent, but not enough to defend who is being sung about.

"Yes!" You reply. "He was even seen wearing it while walking around town, Eddie! There are paparazzi pictures."

"So weird," he shakes his head then plays the song again.

And I know it's long gone and That magic's not here no more And I might be okay, but I’m not fine at all

"This is so heartbreaking," he comments, really hearing the pain in her voice.

"And it only gets worse from here," you sigh, obviously already knowing what's coming.

And you were tossing me the car keys, "Fuck the patriarchy" Keychain on the ground, we were always skipping town And I was thinking on the drive down, "Any time now, He's gonna say it's love", you never called it what it was Till we were dead and gone and buried Check the pulse and come back, swearing it's the same After three months in the grave And then, you wondered where it went to, as I reached for you But all I felt was shame and you held my lifeless frame

Eddie doesn't want to admit it, but that part's made him feel something. Maybe it's just how heartbroken she sounds or how she talks about how she really seemed to love him and was proud of their relationship while whoever she's singing about just wanted to hide what they had away because he seemed ashamed.

He thinks about how he would never want to do that to you, how he loves to flaunt your relationship, even going as far as kissing you in public, not giving a single damn who's watching. So he doesn't understand how people can feel so ashamed of their partner.

And you call me up again Just to break me, like a promise So casually cruel in the name of being honest I'm a crumpled up piece of paper lying here 'Cause I remember it all, all, all Too well

"He made her feel like a piece of paper, Eddie."

"Brutal," he replies with a sigh.

They say all's well that ends well, but I'm in a new Hell Every time you double-cross my mind You said, "If we had been closer in age, maybe it would have been fine" And that made me want to die

"What was the age difference?"

"She was nineteen or twenty and he was twenty-nine." That makes Eddie's stomach churn. He's the same age and can't even conceptualize wanting to pursue someone as young as nineteen or twenty. That's a whole nine and ten years difference and that would definitely make for a power imbalance.

"Gross. And he's just saying that to make himself feel better. Because the truth is, he was going to end it anyway because it's clear that he doesn't care about her as much and she cares about him. The whole thing seems manipulative."

"See! I knew you'd understand." You love how much he's actually thinking about the lyrics and what they mean just like you do.

The idea you had of me, who was she? A never-needy, ever-lovely jewel whose shine reflects on you Not weeping in a party bathroom Some actress asking me what happened, you That's what happened, you You, who charmed my dad with self-effacing jokes Sipping coffee like you're on a late-night show But then he watched me watch the front door all night, willing you to come And he said, "It's supposed to be fun turning twenty-one"

"Hold on," he pauses the music again. "He didn't show up to her birthday party?"

"No," you shake your head in disappointment. "He didn't. And there's a whole song about that which we can listen to later."

And I was never good at telling jokes, but the punch line goes I'll get older, but your lover's stay my age

"Damn," is all Eddie can say in response to the line. "That was cutthroat."

The song comes to an end as the the car rolls up to your destination and Eddie just sits there, staring out through the windshield, clearly deep in thought. He then turns to you, still looking like he's pondering.

"Can we listen to it again?" He asks, which surprises you."

"Of course we can, baby," you reply and play the song again as you two sit in silence in the grocery store parking lot that Eddie had just pulled into. It seems like your groceries can wait. At least for the next ten minutes, they can.

[the-golden-comet]

✨🏴‍☠️OC Questionnaire Mega Tag 🏴‍☠️✨

Thank you so so much for all these OC Questionnaire Tags:

@tragedycoded here, @wyked-ao3 here and here, @jev-urisk here, @illarian-rambling here,

@oliolioxenfreewrites here, @drchenquill here, @pluppsauthor here, and @saturnine-saturneight here. Thank you everyone who has tagged me, and even if I don’t see your tag just know that I appreciate you a lot! (I found out that Tumblr doesn’t catch all the times I’m mentioned either. Feel free to DM me if you wanna chat or get added to my writing list! ✨)

Allllright let’s get started on these….who should I—

….Oh.

Cheers, mate! 🍻

Five Things that make you happy?

Benjamin, Rum, my ship, my mates, and blasting the smug grin off the faces of royals :)

If you could save just one other person who would it be?

Take one guess, mate.

Tell us one of your funniest jokes.

There once was a lad whose nose flew off from a point-blank shot. What did he say? “Tell us one of your funniest jokes.” No? Not laughing? Oh darn, I thought that was quite the knee slapper there. :)

Where would you like to visit?

Around the Caribbean Isles with my husband and crew. The waters should be good this time of year…

When do you usually go to sleep?

Well, depends….usually after Benji and I—

Benjamin: —STOP. 😡

Are you a jealous person?

Absolutely.

Have you committed a crime?

….Nah. ;)

Do you have a chore you absolutely hate?

Usually it’s the mates that do those, but cleaning the heads has never been a favorable chore for any of them.

Benjamin:…Not at all. 😑

Tell me an embarrassing childhood story.

I was spending a night in the slammer after Officer Ralph caught me pickpocketing. I tried using the butter from my bread at dinner to slip through the bars, and wound up getting stuck. Officer Ralph was none too pleased about that one, as he had to get out the hacksaw on the iron bars to free me.

Are you a good person?

I’m a pirate. Are pirates known to be good people?

Benjamin: You’re a pirate with a heart of gold, Peter.

Oh love, you’re gonna make me blush. I’ll remember that line next time I’ve pissed you off enough~

What's the worst thing you've ever done? Do you regret it?

…..Oh Gods. I don’t think I want to go there…

Benjamin: …It’s fine, Peter—

—it’s not. Back on Bloodwater Bay, I….I still wake in cold sweats to that scream.

Benjamin: It had to be done. I realize it now. You saved me….

….I may have saved you, but I’m no hero for that.

What's the quickest way to make you laugh?

Insulting parliament. Or robbing them blind.

What is your favorite song right now?

“The Wellerman” is right fun, it is. Never fails to make me break out in a jig with the mates.

Do you sometimes wish to be someone else?

Mmmmmmnope. Can’t say I do.

Do you push forward or take time to rest?

I’d take time in the islands to let my mates rest, but if I let my guard down for even a second it could spell disaster. I remain vigilant, even in slumber.

What is your favorite drink?

Ron de Barbados. A gorgeous, rich rum with earthy flavors and hints of vanilla. A kick of cinnamon spice, and a dash of hazelnut that tickles the tongue. A bottles worth about twenty grand, but you’d be a fool to think I’d purchase a bottle to enjoy its contents :)

If you had to pick an item of clothing or an accessory to wear for the rest of your life, what would it be?

It’d have to be my father’s tricorn. I’m honored to continue his legacy.

If you were forced to forget one memory, what would you choose?

Remember that thing I regret? On Bloodwater Bay? If I could erase that from my mind, I’d do so in a heartbeat. The day I nearly lost my husband is a day that still rests as a deep scar stitched across my chest, and perched there is the little red bird that I must protect at all costs.

What is a positive thing your worst enemy would say about you?

That I have guts. And I’m not afraid to spill them.

Thank you, Peter. 🏴‍☠️💛✨

Leaving this as an +open tag for anyone who wishes to join 💛✨

✨👇Tag list for writing snippets below. DM me if you’d like to get added 👇✨

Tag List for writing tidbits (lmk if you want + or -)

@deanwax , @dyrewrites , @paeliae-occasionally , @lychhiker-writes , @thatuselesshuman , @katenewmanwrites , @zackprincebooks , @fantasy-things-and-such , @finickyfelix , @billybatsonmylove , @madi-konrad , @froggy-pposto , @fractured-shield , @avaseofpeonies , @topazadine , @willtheweaver , @rivenantiqnerd , @somethingclevermahogony , @noxxytocin , @leahnardo-da-veggie , @mysticstarlightduck , @yourpenpaldee , @moltenwrites , @pixies-love-envy , @davycoquette , @writeahurricane , @nczaversnick , @lavender-gloom , @smellyrottentrees , @aintgonnatakethis , @thecomfywriter , @pluppsauthor , @flurrysahin , @authorcoledipalo , @jadeglas , @spookyceph , @astramachina , @48lexr , @differentnighttale , @inseasofgreen , @saebasanart , @leatafandom

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Crushed 14

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, manipulation, cheating, sleazy behaviour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your next door neighbours hook up, bringing to surface deep-seated feelings.

Characters: Colin Shea, Jonathan Pine

Note: And we're back!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like my dog loves belly rubs (that’s a lot). Take care. 💖

You roll your chair back to your desk and sit, shoulders hunched and head down, focused on your screen. You're too embarrassed to discern any of the cells on numbers inside. Your cheeks and nape are alight with self-awareness.

"That was entertaining," Shari remarks as the wheels of her chair squeak.

"Don't…" you mutter as you click aimlessly.

You can't believe what's just happened. You're humiliated. That must be Colin's goal. To tear you down not just in your own home but every part of your life.

You hear whispers, lowered voices, and clearing throats. Your ears prick as you're certain that they're all talking about you, about the dramatic scene that just unfolded. And how could they not, it's always more enjoyable to be in the audience than the show.

Your teams bings with a new message. You tap the key to mute your PC and open the chat window. You nibble your cheek as you read Jonathan's message.

"We will discuss shortly. Take five if you need."

Shit, shit. This is it. You're going to be fired. You know it. Why wouldn't you be? You've brought your chaos to work with you.

You minimize the window without responding and go back to your mortifying trance. You sit and stare at the blur of lines, only realising as a tears breaks free that you're about to fall apart completely. What did you do to deserve this?

Not just Colin, but Jonathan. You're too nice for your own good. From now on, you should just commit yourself to a recluse lifestyle.

Another message pops up, the red dot taunting you to open your teams. But it isn't what you expect. It's a new conversation, from the district officer. Oh, oh god.

You muster what little courage your possess and click the chat. You read the message slow, several time over to make it register. You're in trouble, a lot of trouble.

'I have been informed of today's events and have spoken with Mr. Pine. I expect you to find a quiet place for our call in fifteen minutes.'

You lean back, dizzy and breathless. Your chest is so tight you fear you might be going into arrest. Oh, shit!

"You okay?" Shari looks over from her cubicle.

You gulp and let out a gurgly 'mhmm.' You grab your phone and shove yourself out of the rolling chair. You scurry away without explanation and clumsily find your way to the employee bathroom, checking the stalls before locking the door.

You set your phone on the counter. If you'd just ignored it, none of this would've happened. It's your fault. All of it. You need to learn to read boundaries but set them too. You lost sight of them with Colin and didn't have enough with Jonathan. 

Your phone lights up. Jonathan. Of course, he'll want to speak. Does he know about your meeting? You'll wait until you know if you still have a job to speak with him.

You look at yourself in the mirror and try to shake off your nerves. That pit in your gut tells you exactly how this is going to go. Well, you can at least be brave and face the end.

You swipe away the notifications without reading them. You sign into your work account on Teams and let yourself out of the bathroom. Lucy scowls just outside and you give her a sheepish look before fleeing.

You find an empty conference room along the next corridor and check the schedule hung beside the door. You jot in your name and let yourself in. You hunker down at the desk, gathering the last of your wits. This day just doesn't want to end.

If you had just kept it all inside, if you had just got over it, if you had avoided your overly interested boss, you could be going home in an hour with nothing more than a pan of frozen lasagna on your mind. That's not how it goes. As always, it must end in disaster. Just like that boy you thought you loved in high school, the one who never saw you against the wall, not until he wanted a laugh.

You take a breath and prop up your phone against a pen cup. You stare at the time, waiting as the meeting invite hovers before you. You tap it a few minutes before it's scheduled and sit in the waiting room. Dread rises to suffocate you, taking the air out of you as you prepare for the worst. You've always been good at that, you've come to expect it.

Tina Cazera, the District Officer, appears in her flawless contour on the other end of the call. You sit up and try not to let your doom burn through. You can't even smile, you're like a guilty dog, wagging its tail meekly in the corner. Two other squares appear on the screen as more members join the chat. You refuse to look at the bottom frame where Jonathan sits before the backdrop of his office. 

"Alright," Tina begins, "I have invited Jeff, our HR representative to attend today to supervise this discussion. He will be documenting this meeting to make sure that we meet all policies and standards."

You nod and Jonathan grumbles his reluctant consent. You thought he'd already be talked to. You clutch your hands together tightly in your lap and push your shoulders back.

"So, I've spoken with Mr. Pine about today's episode but I think it's only fair to get everyone's story, and it would be required for the incident report," she explains, "so, you have the floor, miss, please explain what occurred today in the office."

You swallow and part your lips. How do you explain this without it all seeming insane? You close your eyes and concentrate, flicking your lashes up as you focus on the margin of the chat.

"I was working at my desk..." your mouth is dry, painfully so, "and my neighbour arrived and had an outburst. I understand that it was inappropriate but I didn't invite him there or even encourage him. I can't explain why he showed up but when he did, he said some things and Mr. Pine arrived and they... er... they got into it."

"Alright, let's go back, what were these things your neighbour, the trespasser, said?" Tina prompts.

"He... He just suggested that I... have an inappropriate relationship with Mr. Pine, but I... I don't. I didn't do anything--"

"He's been harassing the woman," Jonathan adds.

"Mr. Pine, you've had your say," Tina dismisses, "why would these accusations be made?"

You shrug. What can you say that won't immediately put you in it? You stayed over at Jonathan's and then he stayed at yours. Nothing happened but who would believe that? Especially when people like Shari could interpret your friendliness as more.

"I don't know. Like Mr. Pine says, my neighbour has been... bothering me and--"

"And how would Mr. Pine know that?"

"Well, I mentioned it," your lip trembles through your lies. Not exactly false, but some information withheld.

"You mentioned it amid what, a budget meeting?" She challenges and clears her throat. "We've evaluated this situation and we're already dealing with enough fallout from your previous boss' mistakes and in our review. We cannot afford another controversy."

You squeeze your hands, digging your nails into your nails. You frown and stare at your pathetic expression in the frame. You suck your lip in and shake your head.

"So, we've assessed the risk and the cost of this...unfortunate occurrence. We cannot afford to lose Mr. Pine. He has shown himself an asset to this company and has the credentials that would warrant only a slap on the wrist. But as you welcomed this into the workplace and have continually crossed professional lines, we would ask that you take a leave until we the ethics board can thoroughly evaluate."

"Leave?"

"Unpaid," she affirms, "effective immediately."

"What?" Jonathan hisses, "this wasn't her. It was that man--"

"Mr. Pine, please, you would only dig the hole deeper," Tina warns, "we recommend you clock out and go home, miss."

You're speechless. You expected it and yet it's still a punch in the gut. You can only nod and eke out, "yes, ma'am."

You dare to look at Jonathan, his forehead ripples with discontent as his lips thin. The call ends just as his eyes seem to meet yours and you're left in deafening silence. What are you going to do now?

💗

You wait until you're certain everyone else is gone. You can't bear to face them or your shame. You can just imagine Shari smirking at you.

When you do emerge, it's an hour after your usual time out. You creep over to your desk and sign out. You pack up your bag and keep your phone in your pocket. You've had enough trouble.

"Ah, there you are," Jonathan's timbre halts you as you head for the door. You pause and blow a deep breath out before you face him, "I was waiting to make sure you had a way home–"

"Yep, the bus," you cross your arms.

His brow arches and his lips twitch, "now, you know you shouldn't–"

"I shouldn't have let you help me so much. I should've taken care of myself and now, now I don't have a job-"

"It is only a leave," he counters.

"Easy for you to say. What am I gonna do without a pay cheque?" You stop and pinch the bridge of your nose, "don't answer that. Just like everything else, it's not your problem."

"Darling, I did try to plead your case. I assured them it was not anything you asked for," he strides past the other cubicles. You back away and adjust your bag, "you can't be mad at me, I can help–"

"You've helped enough," you throw your hands up, "I don't need it. Okay? I'm not as pathetic as you think I am."

"I never– I don't think that," he sputters, "surely, you must realise I think more of you than that."

"I don't know. I don't. I just need to be alone," you spin and storm towards the elevator.

"Wait, but what about Colin–"

"I'll deal," you swallow, stomach flipping as you recall the pictures he sent of your trashed apartment, "I am none of your concern."

"I am very concerned," he follows you.

You push the button to call the elevator and he turns, stretching his arm across the metal doors, blocking you. You huff and look away. You cluck then turn to stomp towards the stairs.

"He will be waiting for you–"

"And?" You hurl over your shoulder, "maybe he's what I deserve."

"You cannot–"

"You are not my boss anymore," you twist around to face him once again, "got it? I quit. I've caused enough problems. It's over. Just leave it."

He flinches, hurt painted across his features. You sniff and back away, pivoting slowly to push through the door to the stairs. He calls your name but you don't react, grabbing onto the railing and hurtling down the stairs

You don't need these men. They just bring problems. You're better off alone. You should've realised that earlier.

💗

Another nasty surprise greets you at your front door. To your relief, it's still on its hinges with some scratches around the handle from Colin's intrusion but intact. Across the wood is carved a single word; slut. You sigh and quickly hide yourself inside.

You realise only too late that you don't know if he's inside. The eerie silence of the building piques your suspicions. You keep a hold of your keys and flip on the light.

The place is tossed upside down. You can barely take a step without meeting a broken shard of glass or a torn page. Dishes, books, and other possessions litter the floor.

You make your way warily across the front room. This is what you're left with. No job, no friends, and soon, you won't even have this dump.

You grab the broom and continue up the hallway to your room. Nothing there or in the bathroom. No monster lurking under the bed or in the closet.

That can't be it. He ran into your work and made a scene, fought your boss. You know that's not it.

You go back into the front room and check the lock. It still works. That doesn't make you feel much better. If he got in once, he could get in again. 

You're startled by a sudden banging on the other side of the door. Your heart hammers along with it and you peer through the peephole. Ally snarls back at you.

You center yourself as best you can and slide the chain into place before you open the door. Ally pushes from the other side as you keep your toe against the bottom. You don't even know where to start.

"Are you fucking happy?!" She hollers, "he's gone!"

"Wh-what?" You stammer.

"They fucking arrested him you fucking loser."

"I don't know–"

"I should drag you! He's spending the night in jail because you just had to get him worked up," she hits the door with her fist.

"Wha–" you blink in exasperation. "He– he did it. I didn't call the police. I don't even–"

"Whatever. You're full of excuses. You've always been so fucking lame," she blows a raspberry at you, "if I see you, don't say hi."

She kicks the door and yelps. She rolls her eyes and sneers, marching away with a limp and disappearing into her own apartment. You shake your head, confused but reassured that Colin's locked up. At least that's what it sounds like.

You close the door and twist the latch. You slide your phone from your pocket and search for a playlist. You'll be up cleaning all night. It should keep you from acknowledging the missed calls from Jonathan.

[ctrldoll]

Strawberries & Blueberries! (A Sweet Treat For A Sweet Man!♡)

Pic - Pinterest Account: @candytufftie.

I have been thirsting over this cake for wayyyy too long (a day) and our wholesome baby deserves to enjoy it! (I'm delulu) (⁠ﾉ⁠◕⁠ヮ⁠◕⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧

Sorry if I butchered the German language ｡⁠:ﾟ⁠(⁠;⁠´⁠∩⁠`⁠;⁠)ﾟ⁠:⁠｡ I was using DeepL Translator.

König/F! Reader, Baking & Wholesomeness. Fluff & a little bit Suggestive.

Enjoy!!! (⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♡

Writing tips are appreciated in this household!! ♡⁠(⁠>⁠ ⁠ਊ⁠ ⁠<⁠)⁠♡ (Seriously, I'm aiming to improve in writing! ෆ⁠╹⁠ ⁠.̮⁠ ⁠╹⁠ෆ)

“Meine liebe (my love), there’s no need to do all of this. We can just spend the day rewatching the series you love.” Kong tried to convince you but failed miserably as you pulled out your cookbook and placed it on the table, [f/c] apron tied around your body and your face beaming. A red, silk bookmark stood out underneath the pages before it and a grin shone on your face as you opened it.

“I am not going to hear you out, Kö. You just got back and I have to treat you. Please, it'll make me really happy. Please?”

The large man sighed at the sight of your pleading, shoulders lowering in defeat and with a nod, a smile appeared on your face and you rushed to hug him. “Thank you! It's going to taste so good!” König rolled his eyes, a warm smile on his face as your frame tightly held onto him before you let go.

“I'm so glad I managed to snag a remaining copy of the book. The Pinterest mom who created it said that if I didn't contact her at the time I did I would have probably found them sold out! She’s such a sweet lady. I hope I'll be like her when I’m older. Five whole children and she’s still so active.”

“Gosh, she’s lucky to have all the energy to handle all the stuff that she has to do. Her husband seems sweet too. He was playing with the kids at the park as she was explaining the contents of the book to me. They were so adorable together.”

I truly hope that you and I will be like that too. Probably because of how wonderful of a boyfriend you are. No doubt that our future will look like that”.

König paused as he brought out the egg carton from the fridge. You imagined him being with you for so long? König sometimes wondered how he ended up with someone as amazing as yourself. “Was there no one else who you’d rather commit a relationship to?” “Was he worthy of you?”

Truly, he didn't know. You were, in his eyes, way too graceful for him. Kind, loving and sweet as sugar towards people whom you showed care for. You treated him so well that he sometimes couldn't grasp that he was around you. Around your light. Your presence. Your amazing self.

The whisk rotated firmly as he moved it, not wanting you to injure your soft hands and form callouses and blisters which he had grown accustomed to. König could tell that you were keen on watching his arms as he worked and made sure to flex his muscles as long as you were on sight. The little lip bite you do makes it so worth it.

“Don't try to tempt me, Kö. Gosh, the sugar in the mixture smells divine”. His lips kissed your cheek after his hand grazed your bum as he placed the flour in the cupboard.

You brought out the strawberries and blueberries, basking in their blooming red and blue-purple colour with a grin on your face as they sat on the basket you placed them in after washing them. A smack to your hand made you roll your eyes as you attempted to taste a juicy strawberry once more then a blueberry after you had a couple of them. König took the strawberry from your hand and sliced it. “Dummes mädchen (silly girl), why did you choose to stuff four strawberries and a couple of berries in your mouth?”

“You keep pushing my hand away from the basket. What else am I supposed to do?” You responded, wiping the icing you placed on top of the berries from your lips.

König chuckled and walked up to them. “You've got a little bit left at the corner of your lips. Lassen sie mich Ihnen helfen. (Let me help you.)”

König’s thick thumb trailed over the curve of your lip, making your cheeks grow hot. They grew hotter as you watched him lick the icing off of it, a teasing smile growing on his face at your dismay.

You looked away, desire pooling in you and started wide-eyed when his hand gently moved your face right back to his sight. “I was on the mission for a while. Pardon my boldness, but I just can't wait to feel you right after we’re done.”

“I understand the feeling so much. I can't wait either. I hope I'll be able to walk tomorrow. Knowing you, I doubt it.” You giggled and gently kissed his cheek then moved to place the batter in baking pans.

“Meine Güte, du hast mein Verlangen nach dir noch verstärkt.” (“My goodness, you've made me crave you even more.”)

“It's so good!” You grinned as you chewed on the sweet taste of the cake as you both sat on the couch, cuddling as a show you loved played on the TV.

“Yes, it is.” König nodded then popped a blueberry into his mouth and smiled at you.

You caught his gaze and smiled back. “You've got a little icing...here.” You said and flicked the icing off of his soft lips with your thumb and licked it off of your finger. You caught the desire pooling in his eyes and lifted your head to kiss him. Lowering his head, your lips met his. The fruity taste of the cake resided in your mouths and you savoured one another.

“Hmm! Kö, let’s- oh! eat first.” You told him as your hands caressed his face. His hands moved lower onto your sides and tightly held onto them as he placed you on his lap.

“Lass mich jetzt ein kleine stück von dir essen. Dann esse ich gleich noch mehr kuchen.” ("Let me eat a little piece of you now. Then I'll eat some more cake.")

[suzukiblu]

join, scent, sorry

"Wait, so you just . . . ditched Superboy? Like right after he got out of Cadmus?" Captain Marvel sputters right in the middle of a League meeting, looking startled. "Why?"

"Batman is handling the Superboy situation," Clark says as neutrally as possible, resisting the urge to grit his teeth or rub at his temples or glower over at Bruce or just–anything, just anything. He isn't Superboy's father, though, and five minutes into this nightmare he's already more than sick of people making the assumption that he should be. He didn't volunteer for anything or consent to anything or even just make a mistake; he had his DNA stolen by people who built a weapon out of it, and just because that weapon's aging process got interrupted and it therefore currently looks like a minor, Clark is supposed to . . . supposed to what, exactly? Sell out his secret identity and his family and his whole damn life to something that only knows what some deluded mad scientists and enslaved genetic experiments thought it should know?

They're not even sure if Superboy is actually a real person. If the personality that's been presented so far is anything more than programming or puppetry or . . . or who knows what, exactly.

Clark can't take that home with him. Can't introduce that to Lois or Ma and Pa or hell, even Jor-El's AI or Krypto. He just can't trust that.

Who could?

And building a weapon that just so happens to look like a kid in a lab and conveniently getting that weapon found and broken out "early", and having that weapon be so eager to join the good guys despite its origins and education and so eager for specifically his attention, so eager to learn about specifically his powers and all the best ways to use and abuse them straight from the source, to try to make specifically him feel some kind of . . . of attachment or affection towards it . . .

Well, Clark's seen much more convoluted and improbable plans from supervillains than that, frankly. They don't know if anything they've been told about Superboy is true. They don't even know if the files Cadmus let them access are accurate or unredacted. They know nothing.

But everyone else seems to think that Clark shouldn't care about that, and that it shouldn't be making him crazy to see his dead birth family's crest in blood red on the chest of a weapon who won't answer to any name but "Superboy".

.

.

.

Dubbilex is a null and doesn't ever scent anyone at all, but sometimes Rex will give him a quick little scruff of approval or Tana or Roxy will give him an affectionate pat or two, and Knockout likes to find excuses to flirt-scent him whenever they end up having a throwdown or whatever, but none of it's ever . . . it doesn't ever . . .

It's embarrassing, but Superboy doesn't–he appreciates it all, obviously, appreciates anyone thinking he's worth any kind of scenting, but it's not what he really wants. He wants something–deliberate. Purposeful.

Lasting.

He wants something heavy, and steady, and certain. Something committed.

Or Superman's attention, just for a minute or two.

He wants to belong to somebody. He's not a real person anyway; he's a thing more than anything else. And if he has to be a thing, it's not fair that he . . . that he isn't a thing that belongs to anyone.

At least, not anyone that he wants to.

Technically speaking, he's Cadmus's IP. Technically speaking, he belongs to Cadmus. There's paperwork that says he does. A lot of it. Cadmus has "custody" of him, legally speaking. He's . . .

He doesn't want that.

He hates that.

.

.

.

"It wasn't . . . it just never felt like–like the right time to tell you, that's all," Kon stutters, feeling like an idiot, and Clark looks . . .

Clark looks pained.

"You mean you never felt safe enough to tell me," he says quietly.

Kon . . . swallows.

Because–that's true, yeah. He's trusted Clark to save his literal stupid life before, but . . . but he never felt safe enough to tell him this.

That's kind of fucked up, isn't it.

"I'm sorry," Clark says, and that suddenly Kon is too bemused to do anything but stare at him. "I should've made sure you knew you could tell me things like that. I shouldn't have just assumed you would."

[hugemilkshake]

https://www.tumblr.com/hugemilkshake/764816678039240704/day-2-of-oc-kissing-may-i-give-rex-cookie-some

That’s great, I’ve actually been thinking about the same thing as I go along with this! I’m really curious as to how your ocs would even react to receiving the kisses themselves!

Well here you go for that! (I’m not drawing their reactions-)

How my OCs would react to being kissed!

Starfruit Milkshake only wants kisses from Snake Tooth

Snake Tooth only wants kisses from Starfruit Milkshake

Bubbly Milkshake would cover her face since she would be blushing a lot

Burnt Caramel would probably purify himself but then give you a pat on the head

Rex Cookie would say thanks and not act like she’s happy but her tail would be wagging so she kinda gives herself away

Sugary Jello will be giggling a lot and asking how did she taste. Don’t worry she’s a bit of a freak at times

Cinnamon Spider is grinning like a idiot and will probably ignore any illegal stuff you do for a bit

Red Fruit will act confident but will internally be questing if your the one and wether or not he should introduce you to his grandma

Blackberry Shade is chuckling and then peppering your face with kisses, she has to one up you.

Powdered Basil is softy smiling and giving you a kiss in return… you don’t know how much that means to him

Simmering Onion won’t notice you kissed him until a few minutes later, after that he’ll be real embarrassed

Grilled Tomato is smiling and giving you a big old hug, you probably both fall after she tried to lift you up

Scorched Garlic will smile but kindly ask you to not do that again, not because it makes him uncomfortable but because he doesn’t feel like he deserves it…

Bubbling Oil smiles at you and will ask if she can kiss you back, if you say yes then she will kiss you back, leaving you with a warm and joyful feeling

Adele Penguin doesn’t like kisses but hugs are always appreciated since they’re are super cuddly!

Wild Basil is tricky, I mean if you kissed him I think he would be shocked and either A- keep you around at all times or B (and what most likely will happen) he will shove you away and run off.

Barbecue "Dragon" will try to not show he’s blushing by acting high and mighty and that he let you kiss him

Gran-Berry she will only accept either forehead or cheek kisses due to her age but she will be very happy

Minty Snail is stuttering a lot but will ultimately hug you

Dark Apple he will punch you if you kissed him. No kisses for him. But maybe a fist bump or a side hug will work

Tabby Cat gets no kisses, but they will sleep on your lap, not as a sign of affection but because they are very eppy

Pink Mantis will be giggling and writing you lots of love letters

Blushing Snail won’t accept kisses, they will basically shrink down into their cloak if you do

Emperor Caterpillar will give you a lazy grin and offer a date to you

Peach Novius will try to complement you but will be stuttering to much

Leaf Sheep Slug would be blushing if he didn’t have to worry about a crazy ex, so instead of being all giddy he’s going to probably protect you from Blazing Spice

Adenosine Cookie is certainly interesting. The fact you got close to them is crazy in the first place, and since their face is hidden it would be in their hand that got kisses, which is more impressive so honestly you’d probably get a compliment before they leave, they are the type to commit to stuff

Water Cookie is a minor so no kisses, but a hug would be good

Salt Water is a minor so no kisses but a high five will do

Sugar Water is a minor so no kisses and nothing else.

Snake Skin will chuckle and give you some stollen money after he quickly flirts with you

Weeping Begonia will flirt with you while sneakily stealing stuff from you. Him giving it back or not is the true question

Purple Mold will be a little confused but will ultimately be super chill with it

White Flower won’t have much of a reaction but hopefully you didn’t kiss her on the lips, she has a parasite that wouldn’t mind switching bodies

Blazing Spice would be flattered that you’d kiss him but unfortunately his heart belongs to another… which might be a good thing for you since he’s a bit crazy

[alloftheimaginesblog]

put your head on my shoulder {indiana jones}

plot: you and indy are travelling and you fall asleep with your head on his shoulder.

character: indiana jones x plus size reader

Part of my Plus Size History Professor x Indiana Jones series and part of my Plus Size Reader x Character series!

You weren't the biggest fan of flying. The thought of being trapped in a tin can breathing in the same air as 100 other people freaked you out so before the flight, to help calm your nerves, you'd taken a sleeping tablet recommended by a trusted friend.

You were travelling with your colleague, friend and crush, Indiana Jones. The two of you were professors at the same college and had grown really close over the last year or so. Indy frequently went on archaeological digs and you'd always shown an interest since you were a history professor so this time, he invited you to come along with him.

Excitement wasn't the word.

You were beyond excited, constantly pestering Indy about what to wear, what clothes to take, what sites you'll wind up visiting. Surprisingly, Indy wasn't too annoyed and actually found your excitement about the whole thing quite adorable though he'd never admit that to your face. You and Indy currently had a very flirty, will they-won't they vibe going on. Any time that you thought things would happen, Indy pulled away. He had confided in you previously after one too many whiskeys that he was scared of commitment so you took a bit of a step back from the romantic side of things until he was ready. It hurt but you'd survive seeing as you two were friends and you knew that he cared, it was just that he wasn't ready yet.

You tapped your foot anxiously as you waited for the plane to board. Indy frowned at you, "That pill not kicking in yet, huh?"

"I only just took it, it takes a while to work."

"Why are you so anxious then? What's with all the foot tapping?"

"It's stupid," you scoffed as you shook your head. Indiana frowned at you and gestured for you to spit it out, "I'm stressed about the seat, well the seatbelt."

"What about it?"

"What if it doesn't fit around me? I'm not the skinniest..." Your cheeks burned furiously and Indy sighed. A voice chimed from above saying that your flight was now boarding, "Oh great."

"Then you get an extension." Indy shrugged. One thing you did love about him was his blunt, matter of fact attitude to things. He didn't stress, he didn't' sugar-coat, he just said things how they happened, "No big deal."

You followed him as he stood up in the queue, appreciating his blunt response, "It's silly, I know... I just get so paranoid. Normal seatbelts are black and usually extensions are bright red and it's just broadcasting 'hey everyone look at me I'm so fat I don't fit in the seat'!" You faltered, realising you were word vomiting all over him, "Sorry, I-"

He shook his head, "It's okay," he murmured, voice quieter so no one else your conversation, "I understand. Whether you need the extension or not, it's not a big deal. Doesn't make you any less of a person. Doesn't make you any less beautiful. Matter of fact, you're the prettiest damn person I've ever seen." As he finished, he realised what he had said and cleared his throat, turning away as a pink hue crept up and over his cheeks and ears.

You smiled, ducking your head to hide your bashfulness from him.

Boarding was quick and simple and soon, you and Indy were looking for your seats, "22, 23, here we are, 24. You want the window seat?" He asked which you gladly accepted since you didn't want to sit in the middle next to a stranger. You didn't mind looking out of the window, you found comfort in the clouds even despite your hatred of flying.

As Indy stored your bags in the overhead compartments, you sat on your seat, already finding it uncomfortable. Big hips weren't a great match for a tight plane seat. Oh well. Five hours, you could do this. You took a breath as you tested the seatbelt and...

"Nope."

It was a good 7 inches from closing. You raised your head, cheeks heating up from shame. It was stupid. You didn't know why you were so mortified to need a seatbelt extension on the plane but you just were. You liked your body, you were fat, curvy, plus size whatever you wanted to call it and you didn't mind it anymore but sometimes insecurities snuck up on you, this was one of those moments. You didn't need to look far for assistance because Indy was already handing you a bright red extension for the seatbelt.

"I asked for you. I also asked for a different colour but this is all they have."

You smiled, taking it off of him, "Thank you," you said, clipping it in and securing yourself in your seat. He sat down, "I know it's silly, I don't know why I'm so bothered by it."

Indy looked at you and smiled, "Don't worry about it. Seriously. People are too self absorbed to care whether or not you've got an extension... besides, I think red's your colour."

God, you hated the way he could make your insides turn to gloop and the way he could make your heart race with a simple smile. You thanked him quietly and conversation died down as he settled into his chair.

After around fifteen minutes, when everyone was boarded and the plane had began to move, you were starting to feel the effects of the sleeping pill you took so you tried to find a comfortable position to sleep in. You tried resting your head against the wall of the plane but the vibrations were uncomfortable and irritating. You tried resting your head back on the head rest but as you started to doze off, your head kept falling and you kept waking up. Your failure to fall asleep, or at least find a comfortable position, hadn't gone unnoticed by Indiana who was watching you from the corner of his eye with an amused expression.

"Oh just put your head on my shoulder and go to sleep, stop huffing and puffing," he said with a smirk. You rolled your eyes at him, not realising that he was being serious until he pulled at you to rest on him, "Put your head on my shoulder and go to sleep. I'll wake you up when we're there. Go on, get comfy."

Your heart was racing, pounding hard against your ribs as you settled on his shoulder. You could smell him; coffee, fresh linen and musk. Heaven. His shoulder was surprisingly comfortable, hard yet cushioned by his blazer and shirt. As you settled, your head found its way to rest near the crook of his neck, hand cupping his bicep. You were falling asleep fast but his muscles beneath your fingertips didn't go unnoticed by you.

Your breathing slowed as it tickled his neck and he knew you were sleeping. He swallowed, sparing a glance to you sound asleep on his shoulder, and tried to calm his own racing heartbeat. The way your breath warmed his neck, the way your fingers pressed into his muscle... Indy took a deep breath. He could smell your perfume - sweet and intoxicating - and it took everything in him to not wake you up and kiss you here.

With his spare hand he moved his hat to cover his eyes as his head rested back against the headrest (and then eventually opted to rest on yours) and tried to forget about the way his stomach flipped at the thought of you touching him. Indy had started the day thinking he still wasn't ready but this... this might change things. You were his favourite person. You had been the most constant person in his life for a year solid and that meant a lot to him. He valued you so highly and was scared that if he let you in, you'd end up getting hurt or worse but... he didn't know how long he could push you away for.

"I..." he whispered so softly that even if you were awake you probably wouldn't have heard him over the sound of the airplane and its passengers, "I think I'm in love with you." Maybe he was more ready than he thought.

[ceruleaneyedking]

It's what I do. I wait for you.

Dazai x reader

notes: this is a rewrite of my old fic and i did not proofread...

warnings: suicide mentions, implied self-harm, typical dazai

The first time you’d met, he grabbed your hand with a smirk underlying toxic desperation and asked you to commit double suicide around five minutes into knowing you. His silver tongue drew you into him to such an extent that the expression on his face when you said yes was etched indefinitely in your mind. His eyebrows had quirked upwards, and his lips parted to let out a surprised huff of air as he straightened his posture from across the table. 

“But not yet," you said right after. “I’ll only die with you when I fall in love with you.” You knew it was your fault—your words that had ended you up here. His smile did not falter when you spoke of your condition; instead, he pulled you to your feet and whisked you away into his universe. “The only thing better than committing suicide with a beautiful person, is commiting suicide with a beautiful person you love.” 

The way Dazai saw the world couldn’t be described with words like “cynical” or "pessimistic"—those words could only go to describe the words that truly described his life. It was bleak yet so breathtaking, like untouched snow that was begging to be trampled upon. It was driven by the innate desire to ruin perfection made by forces other than oneself. You knew from the start about his mental state, how he felt inadequate and hated seeing others achieve what he failed to. How his failed attempts were failures too. A sort of ultimatum thrown at him by fate that permanently damaged him each time. Yet, most of your thoughts, the things you noticed were only significant in hindsight.

You remembered staying up till two in the morning, dancing to whatever song was playing on the barley functioning radio, mouth full of old takeout in between music, laughing your hearts out. He had grabbed your waist gently and twirled you around his living room, dipping you every now and then. The sharp pain on your hip from when he accidentally dropped you and the long stream of apologies falling from his mouth felt like it was yesterday. You’d swatted his chest as a rebuttal and dismissed his apologies. But he had still brought flowers the next day. Red Tulips.

You remembered every single time he smiled at you from across the room and waved you over, introducing you to his coworkers or bragging about you to strangers in the store. He complained about how different he was from everyone around him, yet he was charming and would befriend old ladies or young couples without much effort. It was beautiful; he had such a deep understanding of humans—what made them laugh or feel appreciated, or what caused them to feel fear or discomfort. It had always embarrassed you that he would introduce you to these people with a declaration of his love for you. The things you would do to have him do it again just one more time, looking at your annoyed face with amusement, red carnations in hand.

You remembered him giggling for ten minutes straight after you had touched one of his ticklish spots, and how he had immediately tried to find yours. Both of you were in tears by the end of the day, your ribs aching from laughing so much and your arms limp next to you. He had wrapped you in his arms right after, nuzzling his face into your neck, speaking softly into your collarbone every now and then. It was when you first saw him without his bandages, bare-chested and bare-armed, littered with white and red scars. No, not littered. Adorned. He didn’t speak about it, so you didn’t either. Instead, you laid a chaste kiss on his forehead and used the marker on the bedside table to draw around them. Stars. The moon and sun. Birds in flight across his skin. Loosely sketched hydrangeas.

You remembered how he’d grabbed your arm and pulled you onto a Ferris wheel, telling you about how he’d jump from the top when the fireworks started. You felt the bile rise in your throat, gripping his hand harder, but not to the point where he would notice your nervousness. When the wheel reached the top, he was too busy telling you about what he was going to show you tomorrow then to remember his words. That was the moment you had finally started wanting to fulfill his wish. You were falling in love. He kissed your cheeks under the moon and over the wilted yarrow plants.

You remembered him taking you on little adventures throughout the city. He’d never failed to show you something that spiked your curiosity and made you want to kiss him for being so amazing. Sometimes it was cafes; other times it was trails he had found in a park. You remember him taking you through the foliage one morning, frost covering the benches you both passed towards his destination, a grave. He hadn’t talked about it—who it was, why he was there—he just wanted to show you. He left a note and purple hyacinths.

You remembered his hands on you. The gentle kisses he’d lain on your lips, his hair messed up from the night before and his bandages unraveled on the floor. He was the most beautiful he had ever been, and the least beautiful he would ever continue to be. He smiled at you softly, taking you into his arms and laying your head on his bare chest. The cold biting your skin, but his warmth enveloping you comfortably from the other side. His lean fingers were caressing your hair as he quietly inquired about your state while the begonias he had gotten you the night before rested in your glass vase.

“I love you, Osamu.”

Oh, how things had gone from there.

Everything transformed into a memory. No more waking up in the morning with him beside you. No more holding his hands while walking around the shore. No more laughing at the TV at midnight. It was gone. Everything was gone. Forever. You didn’t know why it happened yourself. Why Dazai Osamu never showed up to your house the next day like he always did with a flower he picked on his way to you. He just disappeared from your life.

He didn’t pick up his phone, nor did he reply to your texts. You knocked on his apartment door but no one answered. You called the agency, they said he wasn’t at work. At first, you thought he might have needed to do something important, you knew how he was, always full of surprises. But the grand finale he threw your way was nothing but cold and bitter abandonment.

Weeks had gone, and you hadn’t heard a word from the brunette. You knew in your heart that he was really, truly gone, and it was slowly settling on you. You hated the feeling more than anything in the world. You didn’t want it to settle on you. You wanted to stay in denial forever because then, at least you could hold hope of his return. Even if that hope was obviously fake.

And then the day came.

A single email, sent to you at noon on a rainy day. Sent by an unknown. But you knew exactly who “unknown” was.

I’m sorry.

Though it was me who offered, I have to back out of my request.

I’ve come to realize you have a whole life ahead of you to live and therefore cannot die with the likes of me. Though we've only spent a while together, I can say with determination that I’ve never met anyone as vivid and fascinating. You are alluring to me, pulling me back again and again, like the meals you could only find in the comfort of one’s childhood home. But it is impossible for me to keep tasting you like this. It’s dangerous and will end only in tragedy worse than the one currently.

I cannot have you dying, love. I cannot imagine taking such a beautiful creature from the earth for my own selfish desires. What will this world do without your smile? Without your words? Without your touch? A world without your existence would hold some meaning, possibly. But what would that meaning be?

A meaning dull and rusted compared to what it was before.

Soft drops hit the keyboard. Not from the rain outside.

I apologize again, but I will not commit suicide with you. It seems to me almost like a crime. A horrendous crime that even my inhuman self wouldn’t dare commit. I cannot meet you again either, which you know will lead to complications. I reckon it won’t be a problem soon anyway. I hope you forgive me over time. If you do not, I understand.

I doubt a day will go by without you crossing my mind. I shall dream about holding you in my arms. About laying kisses on your body and going to sleep with you. Till the end of time, I shall think of you. Of reaching you. Of meeting you. And of loving you.

It ended there—no signature. You felt empty as you closed the tab and stumbled to your empty, cold bed. It felt as if you were lying on ice, only the distant remembrance of warmth existing, a memory you never expected to experience again. Not in such a brilliant and awe-inspiring way at least. You found yourself fretting, above all on him, hinting at his suicide. 

The doorbell rings and you consider not answering. Until it rings again. Then again. Fleeting hope captures your heart again, the possibility of his existence outside your door…or an agency member holding news of his passing. It reminds you of Schrödinger's cat. But at least in that case Schrödinger knew whether dead or alive, at least his cat would be inside the box. You didn’t even know if the person outside the door would deliver news of Dazai or…be him.

You trudge to the door, knowing the outcome but refusing to accept it. He had once mentioned it. Hope. The emotion he believed was the most ardent and the most difficult to understand. He could intentionally make someone angry, happy, or sad, but he was never able to plant hope in one’s mind. 

You hated feeling it. You hated everything that reminded you of him.

You hesitate opening the door, letting the possibility embrace you one last time before peaking out. 

“Delivery.”

The scruffy man chews something loudly and he sticks out the bag he had been holding. “Sure took your time answerin’ the door.” It takes you a few seconds to process and take the package from his hands, lowering your head as a thank you and signing the clipboard he was holding. 

“It’s late but it ain’t my fault. The post office’s always misplacin’ this kinda stuff. Hold it, lemme check real quick…” He squints his eyes, looking at the clipboard again. “Was suppose’ to be delivered last week.” The man grunts in your direction and turns around. 

The bag weighs down on your hand as you walk towards the kitchen table. Dazai's keys and roll of bandages were still there, untouched. He had left in a hurry after your declaration, grabbing anything he saw of his and promising to return in a few hours because he had something important to take care of. You place the bag on the counter, examining it for a few seconds before pulling the contents out. 

Dead crimson roses.

[formosusiniquis]

bela lugosi's dead

written for the @steddiemicrofic prompt: suck | wc: 480 | T | cw: none | tags: vampire!Steve

Like every good freak worth the nickname, Eddie made a habit of reading Dracula every Halloween. 

The first read led to closeted daydreaming about getting abducted by a handsome vampire. Letting himself poke at desires he hadn’t been ready to commit to. With age his fantasies and aesthetics matured, until he was the bloodsucking creature of the night stealing pretty boys away to give in to their secret temptations. So, if he's honest, he’s having a hard time dealing with life and the lemons it’s juggling off to the side of him.

“It isn't fair.”

“Hmm,” Steve, with his red puffer vest and his coordinating Nikes, sat across from him at some point in full view of Eddie’s misery over his annotated copy of Dracula.

“There's an aesthetic you're failing to appreciate and it isn't fair that you-”

“Are we going to do this every time?” He asks around the straw in his mouth, poked into a blood bag labeled ‘Robin:)’ like he’s sipping from a juice box.

“Until you stop dressing like a JCPenney catalog model, or vampires become lame, yeah we probably are, Harrington.”

“Fine,” he sighs, having the decency to pull the blood bag away from his face, “I'm sorry that you had to have five blood transfusions and basically have new, non-vampire blood. No one has ever suffered the way you, Eddie Munson, have.”

“You're being sarcastic, but I have suffered so apology accepted, Stevie.”

“Now you.” Steve prompts, gesturing with the bag in his hands.

“Now me what?”

Steve sits up, a languid move that makes Eddie’s prey brain sit up at attention and his horny boy brain poke its head up too. “Say I'm sorry, Steve, that you had to save the world for the fourth time so a bunch of freaky bat venom metastasized-”

“You absolutely stole that word from Henderson,” breathless, the jab doesn’t carry the weight it could.

“-in your bloodstream and combined with the remains of the experimental Soviet drugs and now," He crawls closer, "you can't eat garlic anymore.”

“That's the hang up for you? Not the blood drinking?”

“I'm Italian, I can’t eat anything anymore. Sure I can supplement the blood with raw meat, but what’s the point if everything is poorly seasoned.” Blood bag all but forgotten in the arm chair, he has Eddie pinned in place looming overtop of him, talking shit about what he’ll never be able to eat again.

The white collar of Steve’s t-shirt is visible beneath the color-block vest, even that isn’t enough to stop his brain from screaming predator on repeat. Supernaturally strong, it doesn’t take more than a hand on the shoulder to push Eddie down horizontal on the couch. He has to feel Eddie’s heart beat, the way it pounds in his chest as Steve noses up the collarbone to his neck. “Really does suck for me, huh baby?”