#EVERYTHING HE DID WAS OF HIS OWN VOLITION

[reidhalstead]

It is as though she had been feeding a fire. Fuelling an inferno with every sentence, and fanning the blaze with every forced, broken breath. Reid's choking on the smoke of it all, hot and warm. Like the sun on his flesh, when she'd thrown him into it — the same as that flash on his shoulder, when she'd darted for the door. He's burning up, seizing at her confessions. This isn't her, and it isn't him — she doesn't suit his memory where there are purple and black bruises banded around her wrists. The withering shell of a gasping corpse on the desolate concrete of an alleyway.

Anika is in his mind like an infection, transformative in a way that dysregulates his very core. He doesn't know how to come down to the ground; when it feels like he's panting, reaching for something to steady himself. But there's nothing but the wall that he's got his hands braced against behind him. Don't give up. He'd said that to her, right? Thought he had. Cruel. Cruel. Cruel. Be that, because it hurts less. He can't hurt. Doesn't want to remember the hands on his flesh in that pit, or the taste of gasoline on his tongue. Knows the sanctity of his honourable nature is tarnished with his brutalisation of everything he'd once held dear. If Reid holds things close, they get charred and scorched in the fire. He'd hurt his sisters, he'd laid waste to the kindness and been merciless to those he'd once called his friends.

He'd put his hands on Booker, and she'd left him to the sun.

You said I was nothing. It's there, right on the edge of a vicious tongue. Withheld only by the confliction that's haunting him. A peep show of memories that's pinholed a focus on all she's said in the wake of this rift between them. Reid opens his mouth, to say something, but it's simply the exposed chest of everything he'd locked away.

Pandora's box is open, and he can't get the lid shut.

Everything's free-flowing; he knows guilt now and grief. It's heavier than his strength, and it brings him to collapse to his knees. A thunk of bone on the dingy carpet as he tries to swallow down the realisation of what he's become. She walked out over self-hatred, not because of —

I did that. He can't stop the words from finding his tender parts, and burrowing deep. Eyes that had been blackened before, trembled into navy to find the parts of Anika that had been mutilated; the parts he had mocked and torn at, in place of acknowledging his own torment. His existence is a thing that needs ridding, she needs to finish what she'd started, hate or no hate. He can't do this. They can't do this — How is he supposed to come back from what he's done? The woman who'd been a chest of secrets for as long as he'd known her, sprawled as flesh and blood, offered out to him to devour. And he's spitting it out, like it's foul — but he knows the taste of her skin, of her lips, and she's anything but.

How have you done this to me? Months of endurance that eventually snapped his cords, only for those around him to rip him apart at the seams. he'd felt the similar constraints quaking in the presence of his family, making fissures in the healed and knitted closed parts of his pain. Fought it, only for her to take a knife and slash at the thread so he might never sew himself back together.

"Anika — I—"

He doesn't recognise his own voice on his knees on the floor. The broken string of vocal cords is a shredded mess. He'd learned the nastiness of nothingness, felt the silence like a comfort with everything he'd said. A contented creature, operating on its own volition. Not for anything else. Basal instincts and hunger had dominated the vessel of a broken man. He's still fighting it, and he's tired too. Exhausted, he wants to tell her how tired he is; wants to tell her he knows, he knows.

Reid would crawl to her, torn between tearing her apart as he'd done to Nisha that night of freedom and offering her the final act of this play; the tragic end to the villain who couldn't complete their redemptive arc. He might do both, if he weren't so utterly sunk by the iron vice of guilt — of disgust at himself and all he is. He's trying to pack the open wound of his soul fracturing with new realisation, but it doesn't come easy. There is just water in his eyes and teeth piercing his tongue; his blood tastes wrong, he's all wrong.

He thinks if she ran at the door now, he would find it easy to bury under the sand. To go back to a beast. But not when she's there, reminding him of her torment. Having him stare almost eye-level with the absence of a piece of her, imagining what that must have felt like. Did she deserve that?

Something's wrong with me, Anika —

"You can't go..." That's not changed. "You can't go." He says it firmly, between the cracks in his voice; a strained, inhuman-like sound. She's got his blood inside her; she can't die. She can't be this. He won't let her be this.

Reid doesn't know if words are enough. He can't undo everything he's done, or said; he can't take any of it back. The war inside of him tells him he's a monster, but it tells him that the monster is him and that he'd meant all those things. No, I didn't... I can't have — he's hungry and confused. He's allowing hatred to come find him, because it's better than the anguish Anika's set free in him. Hate is easy. Easier still, to loathe himself. She does too. How empty they are; beastly things that are their own worst enemies.

Finally, when even monstrous strength cannot win, he slumps back against the door, like defeat is better served here, on the ground. Reid despises that he's back in the wilderness of being a prisoner, this time, in newly built chains he's put himself in. He escaped a set once, and he'll try to be faster about it this time around. But he doesn't know where to start when his eyes search Booker for something other than a harsh, corrupted — contaminated memory of them. Something other than this. Because he doesn't deserve the comfort of remembering a woman drawing a moth on his wrist, or the way she held his hand through a nightmare. The determination that had knitted her features when she'd barged in, like he needed saving. She'd found out that night that she can't save him from himself.

Reid has never known how to save her.

But the volcanic flare is simmering as it makes its descent down the mountain of his sensibilities. A crawl of lava that doesn't know anything but the fall of gravity, to spill and spill, devouring the land until it cools. It leaves behind the evidence of everything it's destroyed, flowing into his throat and forcing a hiss of frustration to come out of his mouth. Blood tickles his lips as swift hands hold his head, frantically rubbing through his hair, like he can kick out the bad, shitty parts of himself; the pieces that the monster owns. But it's just a ceaseless act. There's something that manages to bounce around his mind, and his voice remains that wavering piece of humanity that's crying for help within:

"You want to forget it all?"

She did what she was supposed to. She ran — vanished, left him behind, because that was the smart thing to do. And she was a smart woman, one who didn’t allow herself any foolish moments. No man turned monster had ever earned mercy from her. Not him, not any of the empty, hollow things that had once been human. He was meant to be abandoned. He’d known, all along, how this was going to end. And Anika knew, from all the time she’d spent knowing him, that he feared that this, was all he was ever going to be. Rejected and scorned. Unloved.

But that was the problem with running back to your ghosts (she was certain they'd harm her less than he ever would), they were made of air, evaporating when you pressed too tightly. Memory was a slippery thing, and vengeance? It rotted her to the core. It seemed there was no place to store everything she felt for him — too much bitterness, too much anger, and yet, beneath it all, there was something else she wasn’t ready to admit. Something she hadn’t let herself feel in a long, long time.

"I walked out, because I hated me, not because I hated you."

And it took her months, bloody, brutal months — to strangle her own ghosts and learn how to rot with the part of her that still wanted him. Wanted the good and the bad, the monster in him and the monster in her, all tangled and ugly.

Look at you.

It was alive now, like a dragon breathing fire in front of her. Every shattering, self-loathing word, every snap of the whip across her own back — echoes of all the times she had torn herself apart. The ghosts of every man she’d killed, every friend she’d never let herself truly call a friend — lost, buried. His ghost — a pair of cold eyes and truths that hurt.

The truth always hurt. Lies were easier to swallow.

But there were no more lies left at her disposal. No bullets left to tear him apart. No knives, no malice. No armor thick enough to protect her. It was all shattered now, metal pieces scattered across the floor. She was nothing but a mortal woman now — small and wounded, and he was the dragon, staring back at her — fully formed, flesh and bone, a three-headed thing that should have been slain and forgotten. Fairytales never said what to do when you stood before the monster, broken and afraid — and chose it anyway.

The weight of it was suffocating. It wasn’t just his face, or the cruel things he had said. It was everything she had tried to bury, now alive, clawing its way to the surface. It was too much. Too fucking much. “You want to know what I want to find? I want to find my father and get the fuck out of this goddamn hellhole. I want to forget it all. That’s what I want to find — some fucking peace in this miserable fucking life. One fucking second where I’m not fighting for air. You want to stand there, pointing at every fucking broken piece of me? Go ahead. I’m so fucking tired, Reid.”

She didn’t realize she was shaking until the words broke free, ragged and clawing their way out of her throat. Her arms had dropped to her sides, useless now, hanging limp like snapped ropes. "I'm tired." she said — again, and again, and again — a string of quiet sounds that crumbled out of her, brittle as a crack in the hollow space between them. No anger left. No fire. Only the low, scraping sound of something giving way.

[inanshalla]

I wish some s0lavellans would admit they hate mythal and make her out to be this evil master manipulator without remorse because they are really jealous that solas actually legitimately loved her. Regardless of what you feel for the relationship solas and mythal have a very very strong, unbreakable bond that lavellan could and can never break.

Whether yall think it’s platonic or romantic is immaterial as it’s obvious yall see it as romantic because the vitriolic misogyny against mythal is proof of that.

I’m supposed to believe that a year spent with lavellan where he was pretending to be someone else supersedes the centuries he spent with mythal where he was “solas” first because she used his wisdom for war, “turning him against his purpose” when solas manipulates the inquisitor (including a romanced lavellan) from the very beginning to achieve his goal of avenging another woman?

okay

[dankovskaya]

Of course they r different genres of story centered around very different characters and relationships and situations etc but i think also that just makes it funnier

[runes-menagerie]

"I did enjoy it... Most of it..." Astarion said so softly that it would be a bit hard to hear him but the words would still be clear. He wasn't lying either. There were elements to the scene that he had enjoyed and moments when he had been fully present. There were just some acts that had his mind retreating out of instinct, knowing what had always happened after in the past.

He didn't have anything to say to the rest of it. The warlock was giving him everything he wanted and yet... Yet he couldn't be more disgusted with himself. Here he was, leading someone to what was likely their doom and he couldn't even claim it was because he couldn't fight his Master's command. No. He had done it of his own volition. He was becoming a monster before the tadpole even got him.

"There's a possibility that Cazador's commands will kick back in once the worms are gone and I wouldn't be able to walk in the sun any longer." Astarion replied, his voice unusually emotionless as he lay limply on top of the Tiefling. "I don't want to go back to him."

He liked the comfort from the other, but he hoped he was giving Astarion some in return. “Yes, mutual pleasure… I saw you phase away, and I know the look because I used it all the time.” Caligo meant it that Astarion didn’t have to talk, just listen. Fuck, why did he want him to know that he wasn’t alone, that he was free to be who he truly was. For the Warlock it started with selfish intent, but it grew into something more for him. A little safe haven.

Caligo let his fingers gently play through the man’s hair and pressed a soft kiss to his head. “I find myself caring about you, not out of pity. Never pity… Maybe a mutual, silent understanding. I feel calmer with you. My nightmares more at bay and… I can’t thank you enough for that.” His voice very soft as if there were people outside that could over hear him if he spoke louder. But he knew Astarion could hear him.

“So…” he started after a moment of silence. “As long as you don’t mind having me around after this brain worm thing, I won’t be going anywhere. Maybe we can plan some sweet revenge on those who had made it so HARD on us. I wouldn’t mind to…” He mumbled something that was incoherent until he continued. “Rip his pathetic throat out… Or other cruel things to make him suffer.” He meant his father. “And everyone else that dares to stand in our way.” Allowing a chuckle to slip.

[britneyshakespeare]

Man is saying weird things to me again

[chucklechampion]

welcome back from vacation!! everything is fucked forever

[navydoves]

Dragon!Sylus and his strange affectionate habits

❥ you’re his mate, but you’re also human. his habits weird you out!

⭐︎

❥ he licks you! you could be sitting on the couch, minding your own business with a book in hand and sylus would come up right next to you and just start licking your cheek. you’d retract suddenly and look him up and down with a strange look on your face.

���what? i already explained this to you kitten.”

licking is his way of showing affection toward you. it’s supposed to tell you “i’m here to protect you” in a way. he also just loves tasting your skin and becoming more familiar with you since it brings him so much comfort. he’ll even lick your hair if he’s really getting into it!

❥ he feeds you really well. hungry? no you’re not, not with him at least. he’ll feed you until you’re completely and utterly satiated from his meals. when he sees you happy and drowsy from a full stomach it brings him very deep satisfaction.

sometimes he’ll put bags of snacks or containers of food where you frequent in hopes you’ll eat them. if you don’t, he’ll take offense or think he did something wrong and now you’re protesting!

❥ he makes you wear his treasures. part of being a dragon means hoarding pretty and shiny things. dragons are very protective and territorial about their things, but sylus makes an exception for you. he insists that you wear the jewels he’s collected and will drown you in his riches.

he especially loves it when you go out into public with his treasures on because it shows off his wealth via his beautiful mate. he’ll designate certain jewels or items just for you and if you’re even a little bit dissatisfied with them, he’ll throw them out right away.

❥ he builds nests for you. sylus will innocently steal your most precious items or the items that seem to bring you the most comfort and then bring them to an empty corner. it’s here that he piles up your cosmetics, clothes, bedsheets, pillows, stuffies—anything you could think of—and then he waits.

sylus would never force you to do anything, he wants you to come to the nest on your own volition without his input. he won’t even mention it, he’ll just wait until you find the nest and watch from afar what you do. if you finally do decide to nestle in, he’ll jump for joy knowing that you like it. he’ll also never come into your nest unless you ask him to, and if you do, let’s just say he’ll take care of you really well.

❥ he purrs, and really loudly too. you’ll hear him purring when you’re cuddling, when you’re eating, when you’re bathing, during sex, when you’re doing anything, really. dragons only purr when extremely content but sylus makes a habit out of it when he’s around you. the man is just very happy.

the sound of his purrs come from a deep place within his chest, making them loud and deep. even though they may startle you sometimes, the frequency and vibrancy brings you a sense of comfort and peace, and sylus knows this. whenever you’re upset or anxious, he’ll start purring loudly in hopes of calming you down.

❥ he walks around naked. of course, sylus only does this with you, but it never fails to catch you off guard. it’s not so much a sexual thing, per se, but more of a comfort thing. he’s so comfortable with your presence that he doesn’t feel the need to keep his tight, itchy clothes on when he’s alone with you. he’ll let everything hang and jiggle if he so calls for it.

although, there are times where he’ll purposefully walk around naked to seduce you like a peacock would. he thinks flaunting off his assets will make you want to pounce on him and make love to him all night—which is unfortunately true.

❥ he watches you while you sleep. at first it was cute, but when you awoke one night to his vibrant red eyes staring you down in the dark, it started to feel a little creepy. he explains it away by saying he needs to make sure you’re okay, which doesn’t really make much sense to you since you were in his secure territory.

because sylus doesn’t need much sleep, whenever you take your beauty rest, he feels the urge to look after you and your vulnerable form. he also just enjoys watching you do something so silly and human-like sleeping. this was one of your habits that he didn’t understand. he does finally back off a little bit after your complaining, though.

❥ he has a wild tail. sylus has full control over all of his body parts at any give time, so his tail is always indicative of how he’s feeling. he has a rather calm tail when you two are around others, but when alone with you? you have to dodge it sometimes from how erratic it is. he explains that it’s the equivalent of how your leg bounces. something you don’t even think about when it happens, but can have control over once you realize it.

it’s just another way of him saying to you that he’s comfortable enough around you to let loose with his body and do more natural, unconscious mannerisms.

[tonycries]

A Million Dollar Baby! - N.K.

Synopsis. Turns out, rent can be paid in much more than one way.

Pairing. Nanami Kento x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, landlord! Nanami (kinda), oraI (male + fem), cúmplay, reader’s a tease, unprotected, creampíe, down bad FERAL Nanami, spítting, bréeding, messing up his glasses, pantý-stealing, he’s sweet but fúcks so MEAN, mentions of Higuruma, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.8k (wild)

A/N. Decided it was high time I feed my Nanami girlies hehe.

“Just get the money and go.” Nanami deadpans, like a mantra. Giving a rapt knock on your apartment door, “I swear m’making him buy me lunch for this.”

Now, it wasn’t that Nanami was exactly upset about taking over Higuruma’s landlord duties for the day - no, in fact, he was the first one at his friend’s door with a bag of prescription medicine for the other man’s fever and the suggestion to take the day off.

But it was the thought of finally coming face-to-face with you - that mysterious new tenant that’d just moved into his building. The one that had Nanami wondering whether you were really as “sugary sweet n’ irresistible” as Higuruma raved you were. 

Though, he can’t imagine you’d be particularly happy about being woken up at 10am on a Sunday for overdue rent - he certainly wasn’t.

Seriously, he had no idea how Higuruma managed to do this every-

Click!

“Higu- you’re not Higuruma.”

Oh, and suddenly, Nanami gets it.

If he got to see this view, too, then he might just become the landlord himself.

It’s as if you knew you’d be playing with his sanity as soon as you opened that door, dressed in a fitted t-shirt that did absolutely everything to show off every bit of skin he shouldn’t be looking at. Your lips curving into a sinful little smirk when you notice his eyes dancing off that excuse of fabric you call “shorts”.

“Um…” you hum, after a few moments of silence. Leaning against your wooden door frame to give the tall man an appreciative one-over, “Nanami, right? You’re Higuruma’s friend?”

It’s as if the sound of his own name jolts Nanami right back into his senses, clearing his throat as he readjusts his glasses. “Y-yes. Nanami Kento.” And he winces, fuck he’s never stuttered like this. Never, even in the toughest of board meetings. Yet, here he was - making a fool out of himself. 

Knowing he’s completely fucked when your delicious grin only widens, he bows politely, “Apologies for barging in like this, ma’am. But Higuruma’s sick n’ m’here to collect the rent in his place.”

You wave off his formality, introducing yourself. “Ah, of course. I’ve seen you around, always been too nervous to come up and say hello, though.”

And, suddenly, Nanami’s glad you never came up to him to talk out of your own volition, he thinks he’s rather put off embarrassing himself for later. Coughing softly, “I apologize, s’my fault. It was rude of me to not introduce myself first.”

“Well, better late than never, right?” you continue in your smooth tone. Before your eyes catch down his broad shoulders, the bob of his Adam’s apple, the clipboard held between his long, long fingers. “Right- the overdue rent. I swear, Higuruma’s always such a sweetheart, he doesn’t bother to remind me.” Opening your door wider to give Nanami a good look inside your cozy apartment - something forbidden. “Come in come in, I seem to have lost my wallet somewhere in here though, maybe you can help me find it.”

Oh? 

And Nanami knows this is dangerous. He knows this is much more than his simple plan earlier of just “get the money and go”. He knows that little glint in your eye certainly does not bode well for him as soon as he steps through that door. 

Yet, he answers anyway, “Of course, lead the way.”

Every bit of small talk in your sultry voice has Nanami gulping, loosening his favorite yellow tie while he follows you inside. Averting his eyes from the curve of your shorts, he takes in the neat state of your apartment. 

That is, until-

“Here we are.” you lead him to a towering pile of clothes piled unceremoniously on your tv room couch. Gesturing airily at the mess, “I’m sure I left my wallet in one of my pants, so you can just sit here until I-”

“I’ll do it.” Nanami’s quick answer stuns the both of you momentarily. But before you can resist, he’s shrugging off his jacket, ignoring the heat of your gaze when he bunches up his sleeves to reveal strong, veined forearms. “It’s only fair, since m’bothering you so early.”

You chuckle, “Oh? What a gentleman, we can do it together then, handsome.”

So here he was - sat on your cramped couch, your thighs flush against his, tackling your laundry. This was definitely a far cry from getting the rent and leaving - but, alas, Nanami can’t find it in himself to complain when he neatly folds up your clothes. 

Whereas you were hastily throwing them god-knows-where, hissing, “Where- is it-” 

“Patience.” he’s humming, placing another t-shirt on your coffee table. “Higuruma’s in no hurry, he can barely get out of bed right now.”

You click your tongue in frustration, “But you, Nanami-”

“-are perfectly fine helping you out.” Nanami cuts in, flashing you a gentle smile. Your eyes widen at the sight of a soft dimple at the corner of it. Which makes him tear his gaze from that pretty pout on your lips to turn back to his dwindling half of the pile, “Besides, it would be a shame if such a nice apartment was messed up by- by-”

Fuck. 

Was that what he thought it was?

His fingers tremble, looking so fucking big wrapped around that those tiny strings of hot pink. Sinful. Obscene. Shit, if he tried he could just rip it to pieces with his bare hands right now - even if you’d been wearing it.

“Hm?” you’re gasping at the sight of the man before you, body stiff, ears a guilty red, gaze hardening at where he was holding onto one of your panties. Oh, shit. You pluck the offending piece of material from his hands, “Oh- whoops. Um- that can’t really be folded.” Throwing a wink at the flustered man - and the lingerie right back at him. “Evidently.”

It was all too much for Nanami, and he’s bringing a hand up to cover his blush - before ripping it off like it burned when he realized it was the same hand he held your panties with. 

Somehow, he manages to choke out, “Maybe- maybe we should try looking somewhere else.”

And it was true - the few messy clothes now leftover (and…Nanami couldn’t forget, your underwear) didn’t show any signs of hiding your wallet. 

“If you say so~” you muse, getting up from your seat - only to get down on your knees. Right in front of Nanami’s manspread legs. 

“Wh-what are you-”

“Under the couch.” you interrupt, enjoying this way too fucking much for the poor man’s sanity as you flash him a cheeky grin. And he smacks himself mentally for letting his imagination be toyed by your teasing whims. “I might’ve dropped it under the couch, so won’t you be a dear and help lift it while I look?”

He couldn’t get up fast enough, almost stumbling over his long legs to crouch down beside you - just anywhere away from this scandalous position. “Ready?” Nanami rasps, biceps bulging tight against his button-up when he easily tilts over your couch. 

“More than.” you take a second longer to admire him before going back to your mission.

Which - whatever’s left of the rational part of Nanami’s brain really thinks might just be to drive him insane instead finding that fucking- what was it- wallet? 

“Hmmm seems it’s not here either, right, Ken?” He doesn’t know what he’s reeling at more - the fact that you used his first fucking name or the way you were arched so teasingly like that. On your knees, spine curving into a delicious little bend that has the crotch of his pants growing just a bit tighter. And- shit he was wrong. So, so wrong. Because those weren’t a sinful pair of shorts like he’d initially thought after all, instead, they were more like underwear. Flimsy and thin, bunching up perfectly at the crease of your hips. 

You were captivating. 

At his heavy silence, you bat your lashes so deceivingly innocently, “Oh? Was it the name? Sorry, Nanami, you’ve just helped me so much that it ah- slipped out. I won’t do it again.”

“No.” he grits out, the both of you surprised by the ragged hitch in his answer. Already so disgustingly missing the sound of his first name rolling off your tongue. “I’d like it if you called me that- ‘Ken’ that is, if you want.”

“Well then, Ken.” you brush up unnecessarily against his sculpted body as you move to get up and dust yourself down. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but my wallet’s not down there.”

Shit, he thinks, looking down at the empty spot of carpeted floor for the first time. You little tease, you knew what you were doing. 

Grinning unabashedly as you tug on his arm, “Come on! There’s one more place to look.”

As you pulled him along to the kitchen, Nanami had held out the hope that maybe - just maybe - this would be an actual attempt at finally paying off your overdue rent. Maybe he could walk out of this unscathed and holding onto whatever’s left of his dignity (and lacking the raging boner that was threatening against his slacks right now).

But every feeble hope of that was thrown out the window the moment you instructed him to hold the rickety, certainly unsafe chair propped up in front of your counter steady. 

“I swear I must’ve left it somewhere up there.” you grumble. Not wasting a moment before climbing onto it and rifling on top of your high cabinets. “No harm in trying, right?”

He gulps, palms getting sweaty on the wooden back of the chair with the effort to keep it still. “Are you sure you left it on top of there?”

“Huh? Yes yes, of course.” you answer absentmindedly. Your shirt snagging on your arms as you raise them even higher, “Think you can see something from down there?”

If Nanami could see the top of your shelves, then he didn’t want to find out - not when one glance upwards blessed him with a forbidden glimpse right up your t-shirt. All it took was a flash of skin before he was hit with the realization that you weren’t wearing a bra. 

“Ken~”

“Fuck!” he breathes, when he looks up involuntarily at the sound of his name. Face burning when you raise a brow, “U-um, m’not sure.” 

Yeah, he sure could see something - hell, he wanted to see more. 

He urgently swipes at the sweat slowly beading at his forehead, immediately regretting his actions when the chair tips ever-so-slightly. “Shit, I apologize, n’ I also apologize for what I’m about to do-” He gasps over your soft yelp, before wrapping two warm hands around the small of your waist. Searing. Soft. Planting you softly on the firm floor like some lil’ ragdoll, “-but I can’t let you put yourself in danger this way.”

Before you know it, you’re back in the safety of the ground. Stood right in front of a determined Nanami as he cranes his head up in your stuffy kitchen, backed up against the counter as he takes over looking for your wallet. 

“Let me, instead.” he grunts. 

But oh even with how genius he thought it was to look instead - even with how he stopped himself from looking at that sinful little slice of heaven - Nanami Kento had another problem. 

A problem that presented itself in the way that your body was pressed flush against his muscled chest, two of your thighs straddling his thick ones. Caged perfectly against him, exactly in the way he shouldn’t have been imagining - but did, anyway. And shit if he angled his body just right he could feel the heat of your core - the way your eager front was drawing in closer. 

“Ah-” he grunts when your soft palm glides lightly across his pecs. Jaw clenching while he tries to blink his hazy eyes back into the glaringly empty top of your cabinets, “My apologies, seems uh- your wallet isn’t- here-” 

Each word is wrenching out of his pretty, worry-bitten lips, a ragged gasp with every accidental brush of the pads of your fingers at the hem of his tight pants. 

“It isn’t there, hm?” you purr, a low honeyed tone that has all the blood in Nanami’s body rushing to his fat cock. “Well what do you suppose we do about that, Ken? Since I can’t pay the rent?”

Nanami doesn’t know whether you’re talking about the rent or that massive tent in his pants he really couldn’t explain away. Instead, he spits, “You knew what you were hah- doing, didn’t you, you lil’ minx? You don’t have your fuckin’ wallet here.”

And the air is so thick, so heady that he can only bring himself to pull away mere millimeters from where he was hovering near your face. 

But even that was too much - and in a split-second, you have your deft fingers wrapped tightly around his speckled tie. “And if I did?” Pulling close enough to ghost your lips against his, “You’re smart, Ken. So m’asking once again, what do you suppose we do about that?”

As if to draw out the answer from him, you’re giving a long, hard drag of your hot cunt along the outline of his swollen cock. You could almost feel every throb and nudge of his veins along the side, and it made you salivate.

“I suppose…” he answers, guttural, like some dark, primal part of himself is peaking its head out with each hot breath fanning your face. A large hand coming up to squish your cheeks into a pretty pout, pursing your lips perfectly for him. “That you hit me if you don’t like this, darling.”

And fuck for all how much of a gentleman Nanami acted - he kissed the exact opposite. All but ruining your lips in such a messy clash of teeth and tongue and him. Devouring you. 

“Fuck- shoulda known.” he’s letting out a humorless laugh, swiping his tongue across your glossy lower lips. “Should’ve known when you invited me in. Such a tease.” Drinking in your breathless moans, sucking on your tongue, “Such a- ngh- horny lil’ thing. This what you wanted all along?”

You hum into the kiss so drunk, “Maybe.” Dancing your hands all across where his toned muscles were fighting against the restraints of his shirt, “But you really can’t blame me.”

And maybe it was true - maybe this was inevitable. Either way, Nanami didn’t know, nor did he really care - not when you were letting out such sweet gasps when he bites down on your bottom lip - just a little punishment. Kissing his way down your heated skin, giving a languid lick at where he suspected that secret sensitive spot on your neck would be. 

“Oh! Ken.” you moan. Bingo. 

He’s unbuttoned his shirt now - or maybe it was you. Fuck, either way you couldn’t tear your eyes off of his pretty washboard abs. Curving and dipping like he was sculpted meticulously. 

And that’s all it takes for your already-dripping cunt to grow impossibly wetter, and he could feel it leaking through those flimsy cotton shorts of yours. Forming a messy sheen right at that damp spot of precum on his pants.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet, my love.” Nanami murmurs, swiping a thumb down that sopping wet slit of yours through your shorts. Just marveling at the way that simple touch makes another wave of your sweet sweet juices bead through the fabric. “Hah, absolutely dripping. This all f’me?”

At your half-delirious nod, he flashes you a smile so handsome that it only makes you squirm more impatiently. “How sweet.” Giving your nose a chaste peck, “So good to me. So needy.”

“You’re the same, though.” you accuse, hotly.

And it’s true - Nanami couldn’t deny the aching need of his cock, the way he all but moans in response, “Then tell me- hngh tell me what you want. I’ll give you- anything-” Managing to get out through hot, sloppy kisses planted right on your wobbly lips, “-anything.”

But, ah, you always did manage to surprise him. And instead of an answer, you’re getting right down on your knees in front of him like you did not too long ago - though, this time, you’re reaching up to fumble with his belt. 

“Wan’ taste you.” you huff when his expensive notches prove too stubborn. “Wan’ feel you in my mouth so bad, Ken.” 

“Oh yeah?” he chuckles darkly, easily loosening his belt and his pants along with it. Rock-hard cock sensitive and just smearing a pool of precum where his fat head springs up to hit your lips. Such a pretty shade of gloss. Nanami laces his hand on your scalp to guide you forwards, slowly, “Then take it. Take it f’me, pretty.”

He was so pretty that you possibly couldn’t not - a delicate blushing red at his very tip, glistening and absolutely soaked in precum down the long path to his creamy base, his heavy balls. So girthy that it made your cunt clench in anticipation.

And then there’s no more talking. Hell, you barely get enough time to admire Nanami’s massive cock before he’s bullying it between your lips. Wetting his thick, angry tip with your saliva, just enough to eye down at the way your lips bulge so prettily around him. 

“Gonna hafta open w-wider if you wanna take me, pretty. Open hah- yeah jus’ like that.” He’s reeling your head back, all the way till you were just kissing at his thick, angry tip. “Now spit on it, my love.”

Despite being the one to say it, Nanami’s mouth drops into a fucked-out little oh! of disbelief when you’re readily decorating his swollen length with a steady stream of spit. Your soft palms smearing the saliva along his length. 

You’re slurring, “After all, I still haven’t found my wallet, right?”

And oh he doesn’t even have to ask for what comes next - doesn’t even have to make a noise. 

Immediately, you take him in inch by fucking inch. The deliciously salty twang taking over your senses, and he’s so hot and heavy over your tongue. Veins pulsing in a dizzyingly throb! throb! throb! against the roof of your mouth.

“Are you- are you sure you can-” You shut up his doubts by rubbing your hot tongue along every sensitive ridge you could reach. Bobbing your head at a quick, ruthless little pace to milk his pretty cock for all he’s worth. 

Nanami’s eyes roll to the back of his head. Was this what heaven felt like? 

“F-fuuuck, oh you-” his words are catching in his throat with each flick of the tip of your tongue against his sensitive slit. Just the way he liked it. “-ngh guess that sharp mouth of yours wasn’t just hah- good for teasing, huh?”

He’s running his mouth a mile a minute - the complete opposite of the reserved man that’d come knocking on your door. Hips grinding up into your warm tongue mindlessly, slow. Languid - like he didn’t even realize what he was doing. “Oh you feel so heavenly- so fuckin’ good it should be illegal.”

You can’t help but bat your teary eyes up at him in response, blinking away the lustful haze to drink in that utterly obscene sight above you. Nanami’s neat, blond hair uncharacteristically disheveled, stray strands sticking to his furrowed brow. Only deepening with each wrecked sigh that leaves his plump lips every time his abs flex with the movement of his fat head hitting the gummy back of your throat. 

He looks so pretty it makes you moan. 

Those electric vibrations going all the way down that wet divot on the tip of Nanami’s painfully hard cock to his heavy balls. 

“Oh shit- shit shit shit feels too good.” his words are slurring together, drunk off the way you gag around him. “Don’t do that don’t-” This only makes you drag your sloppy mouth down him deeper, syrupy moans sticking to

him all the while. 

“Fuck!” Nanami shudders. And he’s pulling you down - hard - barely letting you get a feverish little breath out until your nose is hitting the neat patch of blond at his base. Rubbing up against his toned pelvis. 

Still moving in deep, relentless thrusts inside your gummy cavern. “S’real fuckin’ hard to treat you as nice as I want when you act like that, my love.”

And, of course, the only response he gets are your pathetic, wet gurgles as you take him in faster. Cheeks hollowing to massaging his every sweet spot. Your jaw grinding against his twitching balls with each smack of his hypnotized hips against your mouth, fucking into you the way he wished he could do with your cunt. Frenzied. Sloppy. 

Yeah, this was heaven alright - but you were the fuckin’ devil. 

Of course, you wanted him to treat you like such a slut - so he does. 

Just dragging your stubborn mouth off of his twitching cock, Nanami only reaches down to place an accomplished peck on the pout of your mouth before hoisting you onto the counter. “What? You think I’d really ngh- cum before my darling girl?”

He’s groaning into your mouth, licking at the seam of your candied lips as two strong arms of his spread your legs so far apart it burned. “F-fuck, Ken-”

“Aw look. You’ve got another slutty pair, huh?” he gestures down at the drenched scrap of fabric you so proudly called “panties.” Sliding a thumb underneath to glide it underneath your puffy pussy lips. He’s echoing your sentiment from before, “Said you can’t find your hah- wallet, right?” Well, ya better start makin’ up for that now.”

In all of two seconds, Nanami’s hooking two fingers over your underwear - pulling - ripping. He was right -  Nanami takes a moment to admire your dripping cunt, glistening and needy for him - he could rip those panties right off of you. 

With just one hand pinning you to the cool marble of your counter, the other thumbing open your puffy folds, he’s giving all of your pussy a hot, open-mouthed kiss. 

“Mmm fuck-” he spits into your sloppy hole. Once. Twice. Letting it form a saturated little pool of your juices, before surging back nose-deep with a pained grunt. Again. And again. And again and again- “Jus’ as sweet- as sugary sweet ngh-”

Nanami didn’t think Higuruma knew about this little treasure trove when describing you - though, if he did, then he was well and fully intent on tongue-fucking every little thought out of him right now. 

“Hngh! Shit-” you’re keening when his greedy tongue laps up every bit of your syrupy sweet slick. Alternating - methodically, indecisively - between rolling over your throbbing clit and just dipping into your awaiting entrance. “It feels so- so good, Ken.”

“Yeah that’s right.” he gasps, wrapping those pretty pink lips of his to suck on your clit. Harsh. “Say my name- no, louder. Louder.” 

It’s all you can do to not just scream out his name without your neighbors filing a noise complaint. Dragging your sopping pussy all over his mouth - glistening and obscene right down the bottom half of his face all the way up to smear against his clear glasses. 

Such obscene squelches ring through your kitchen as Nanami keeps making out so messily with your sensitive nub. Ringing in your fucked-out brain, so obscene, so addictive that you barely even register the thick fingers dipping their way around your hole. 

You jolt when the cool metal of his glasses kiss your skin, “O-oh Ken what-” 

“Shhh shhh, darling.” he soothes. The tip of his manicured index circling around your elastic muscle. Hypnotic. “M’gonna take care of you. Gonna take such good-” With this, he’s bullying his fingers inside, “-care of you.”

Tears crinkle at the corners of your eyes at the sheer stimulation. Because for how sweet Nanami was talking you through this, he was absolutely ruthless on your cunt. Not half the man he was this morning - animalistic. Feral, even.

His sharp jaw grinding against your skin, fingers almost a blur with how depraved they were pumping in and out of you. Massaging every hidden corner of your plushy walls, yet you get the feeling that they were calculated. Nanami’s darkened eyes drinking in every whimper and twitch of your body over the glasses inching dangerously downwards. Searching, waiting for that one-

“Ngh!” You worry you’d have fallen off the counter if it wasn’t for Nanami holding you down. Body jolting at sudden electricity running through your veins, “Oh- fuck fuck fuck. Oh my god Ken, there. Right there–”

But before the sentence has even left your heavy lips, he’s hitting your g-spot once more. Easily finding the bullseye that has you bucking and arching into his mouth like such a slut. 

And this time - Nanami lets you use his mouth all you want. The fingers splayed out to pin you down moves to toy with your puffy clit. Rolling between his fingers while he hisses out syrupy sweet praises, “Shit, never liked m’name that much- ngh- but it sounds so pretty on your lips. So sweet. So- oh-” 

The sight of your cunt just beading with need has him kissing it once more. All over your sensitive nub, your ravaged hole, hell, even down to the mess of slick dripping down at your thighs. Faster. Sloppier. No rhythm or rhyme anymore. 

“M’so close.” you whine, weaving your fingers through his blond hair to help ride his face easier. Jolting with each purposeful flick of his tongue. “Gonna cum, Ken.”

“Cum then.” he answers, simply, grinning a guiltily glossy grin, “You’ve got a lot to make up for, right?”

And then you do - stars behind your eyes and that little nickname you’d made Nanami in your mouth. Over and over while he tonguefucks you through your high. 

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck–” you whine, big fat tears rolling down your cheeks eat time he swiped at your sensitive spots, dragging it out longer. Until your soft whimpers were drowning out the squelches from below. Until you were blinking your spotty vision back. Until you were squirming your hips higher up the counter to pull away from Nanami’s unforgiving tactics. “M’too sensitive- Nana-”

He tuts, interrupting your orgasm-drunk babbles, “Tha’s not what you call me.” Pulling away just enough to hum, “All I did was eat this pretty cunt out, darling n’ you already forgot my name?”

You shiver - both at his mean little tone and the absolutely sinful sight between your shaky thighs. Nanami’s lips plump and irritated, eyes foggy - glasses even more so with all the sloppy dredges of spit and your slick.

Shit, you think he’s never looked prettier. 

“Is that so?”

It’s all you hear before you’re hit with his glasses being gently placed onto your nose bridge - followed shortly by the realization that oh, you said that out loud. But Nanami basks in your sudden shyness, giving your lips a chaste, lingering peck. “You dirtied my glasses, y’know. Now you have to make up for that on top of the rent.”

And by the feeling of his thick tip kissing at your pussy lips, you had a very good idea about how you’d be making up for it. Making a mess. Sliding the curve of his head up and down. Up and down up and down up and-

“B-but don’t forget.” you manage to grit out by the time he’s nudging his divot against your clit. “You have to make- hah- make up for-” 

In a fluid motion, you’re reaching your fingers to dig into the irresistible tan skin at his hips, all hard muscle and the thick fabric of where he’d pulled his pants down just enough. You press down on his bulging back pocket, smirk growing at the familiar flash of hot pink you could spy, “-my panties.”

The moment the obscene little accusation leaves your lips, you give a soft tug forwards. Nanami’s towering body being pulled easily to push his weeping tip past your puffy folds. 

“F-fuck.” he’s throwing his head back at the feeling. “You hngh- saw, huh?”

Oh, if he hadn’t been imagining this the moment he’d stepped inside your apartment then Nanami thinks he might’ve just passed out right then and there. 

Because you were so warm, so addictive wrapped around his cock - even when he’s barely even in. That he just has to keep going - after all, it’s for the rent, right?

It’s what he likes to think.

It’s what he whispers - over and over into your open mouth as he bullies his thick cock past your gummy entrance. Letting your plush walls suck the ever-loving soul out of him with each lazy, lingering grind just to fit himself inside. 

“O-oh! Shit-” your nails leave jagged red marks down Nanami’s broad shoulders when he stuffs you full. Desperate. “Y-you’re so big, Ken–” 

At this, you feel Nanami’s girth grow even wider, stretching your walls until it felt like he was molding your poor pussy to the shape. Just reaching into your lungs. You squeal, “Wait- you got bigger- what-”

“I know I know, You got it, my love.” he’s soothing your cries with sugary kisses at the corners of your mouth. Drawing slow, methodical circles on your clit in time with his experimental thrusts. “You got it. You can take it. Shhh shh-” He’s drinking in your cute mewls, cupping your pretty face with his free hand, “You’ll take it right? All of it, like my good girl? You’ve gotta make up for it, right?” At your delirious nod, “Words, pretty.”

“Yes, please.” You buck your hips in a sultry tandem matching his, the cool frame of his glasses still kissing at your skin. “M’gonna take it all like your good girl, Ken.”

Shit, he can feel himself growing even bigger just halfway into you, “Then-” Angling your teary face down to watch the mess down below. The way your greedy cunt was trying to milk each and every inch of him like it was delicious. “-look.”

You can’t tear your eyes away as he delves into you so filthy. 

Not waiting for your pathetic whines about him being “too big” - no, Nanami’s only pulling you back from escaping like some sextoy - his favorite one. Still toying sweetly with your clit while he pushes against that feeble ring of resistance. Once. Twice. Thrice. 

“Ken!” you’re yelping out when he finally bottoms out. Your swollen folds meeting his drenched hilt, blond tufts of hair brushing up against your pelvis. Sighing, ”Finally.”

“Finally?” he’s dragging out his words with an already-crooked, pussydrunk grin. Eyes wild - bewildered almost at how well you were taking him. “S-seriously? Did you say ngh- ‘finally’, my girl?” Each word has him tapping more strength behind those thrusts, faster. Harder. Spitting out so contendly, “Finally- hah. Such a slut f’me, hm?”

He’s plunging into you like such an animal right now, so harsh that it was almost difficult to pull back. To dare subject himself to not be buried inside your dripping cunt for even a split-second. 

In response, you lick a long stripe up the sensitive area of his neck, splaying out a hand to squeeze Nanami’s pec - and the rapid heartbeat you felt beneath it. “You’re not- ngh- any better.”

“I know.” Nanami leers, unabashedly kneading at your sore tits now. Fucking you harder and harder into the counter. Connecting his sweaty forehead with yours to look you right in the eyes as he gruffs, “I’ve been thinking about fucking this pretty cunt as soon as you opened that door, y’know.”

You feel his cock twitch wildly at the confession, dragging against your gummy walls with his tip. Hitting - oh-so-expertly - that one sensitive honeypot of nerves. Which makes Nanami’s mouth fall slack with what a treasure you were. 

“Y-you’re such a-” you’re moans are syrupy and slurring together now. Holding onto the larger man for dear life, “such a pervert, Ken.”

Shit, you were squeezing around him so hard that it was almost impossible to pull out. Abs straining to keep up the loud staccato of skin-against-skin, and Nanami’s long, jagged rams inside your wet heaven.

Nanami’s nosing down your pulse, letting his hot tongue loll out to catch the salty drops of your tears, “Mhm, only for hngh- you. Because you’re my girl now, aren’t ya?”

So easy for him to trawl out those addictive moans with each drag of the upwards curve of his fat cock. Thick tip hitting your g-spot, your cervix - as if he was branding his name into your pretty pussy from the inside. Sloppy. 

Leaving a bruising little Kento. With his erratic fingers pinching and rolling your clit at the same feverish tempo of his cock bullying inside your cunt - Kento. With his heavy balls smacking against your ass, sending jolts of white-hot pleasure all the way up to his sensitive slit, rubbing up against your succubus walls - Kento. With the way your heels were now digging into those dimples at the bottom of his spine, sure to leave marks with the way you were pulling him impossibly closer. So needy - Kento.

Only getting sloppier. The only thing in your mind right now - Kento Kento Kento-

So, really, it makes sense when that’s the only thing you’re capable of getting out once you cum. It sneaks up on you at first, and then all at once - and before you know it, you’re cumming so desperately all over Nanami’s relentless cock. 

Over and over.

Your thighs spasming, such a slutty ah! ah! ah! leaving your mouth with each wave of pleasure he’s forcing out of you by targeting your ravaged g-spot. Only a few more of those sloppy, mean thrusts left in the man himself before Nanami’s spilling into your greedy cunt. 

Painting your gummy walls white with each painful squeeze of his balls, he’s still thrusting - as if on instinct. Shoving his seed deeper and deeper down your cum-filled hole until he’s sure it’s overfilled. 

By god were you a vision, he’s thinking deliriously. Tears pooling at your eyes, drool dripping down the corner of your mouth, throat to shoot to do anything but whimper when he keeps going in and out in and out in and-

And if he angled his head just right, he could see the hot globs of cum that take to trickling out from your puffy folds, pooling at a mouthwateringly creamy base around his hilt.

“Ah,” Nanami wastes no time squeezing his index into your already-bulging entrance, pumping the cum slobbering out back in. “Better- hah- better not waste any-” He could barely speak right now, cumming harder than he has in his whole life - in fact, his overworked cock was still shooting out wispy spurts of his seed. Like he couldn’t stop. “-after all, y’haven’t made up for all the overdue rent yet, my love.”

A/N. Concept inspired by this NSFW audio by IchigekiVA that my friend sent me <3

Plagiarism of work not authorized.

[unladielike]

    Vivian nods away in agreement for to her, having a considerable amount of burgers without any soda didn't seem like something that's really heard of... and yeah, perhaps there were way better palate cleansers to be had than carbonated drinks, but as this was a food truck and not a restaurant, the selection of beverages they could realistically order would understandably be a bit limited.

    "Welp, I wouldn't go as far as to say I necessarily understand 'everything', per say, but yeah, once you manage to live through twenty one years on this planet, you start discovering some pretty basic stuff... like, for instance, how the human body gets thirsty if you consume salty snacks yet do not occasionally bring yourself to drink water throughout regular intervals," Vivian states. Granted, most would consider that to be 'common sense', but as per usual, she frames it more like an academic study than redundant knowledge nobody would truly bother disputing.

    Either way, it doesn't take long for her bespectacled gaze to soon settle on the drinks menu, which was situated to the right side corner of the food truck... and to her delight, Coke was listed as one of the drinks that were available to order, causing her to clasp both hands together.

    "Ooh, what do you know?! They do indeed have Coke! No Fanta to be seen, though... then again, at least we aren't forced to choose Pepsi, which is the mid alternative to Coke," Vivian pipes up. Of course, after the final customer leaves, she'll then finally pull out her wallet before turning to Mizumachi. "Alright, so to summarize super quickly... we want ten teriyaki cheese burgers with two cokes?" Vivian repeats in order to ensure they were on the same page.

[水]

“Bia is so smart! I love it!”

Who knew there was such a place so close by? He hadn’t found the place yet, and who knew how long it would’ve taken before he found it. The food truck  now had a new fan who was bound to visit pretty often any time homesickness struck him- which was surprisingly often if he was left alone with his thoughts.

The jock laughs at the comment that the food truck wasn’t going anywhere. It wouldn’t sprout legs and run away—but it had wheels, didn’t it? Couldn’t it drive off?

“Yeah! A Teriyaki cheese burger sounds great!”

Sometimes, he’d go into restaurants and find that the food was very different compared to his expectations, but if going by the smell alone, he was sure that he was going to like the burgers here. He normally wasn’t that picky when it came to food anyways, but still! It was a kind of betrayal for someone who craved familiar tastes to walk into a restaurant and walk out of it confused over what he’d actually eaten. He learned the hard way that many ‘fusion’ places weren’t… the best. Guess not every fusion was stellar and epic. Sorry Goku and Vegeta.

“You really understand everything, huh? You’re right! If you’re going to be eating a lot of burgers anyways, ya gotta drink something that pairs well with it. Coke is the best! Fanta is also good, though.”

If you were going to be eating your fill of burgers, was there really any real difference if you chose to drink soda over water? The difference was minor at that point, so there was no point in picking straws. Water was his preferred drink for regular hours, but if he was doing rigorous exercise, then he would reach for sports drinks to replenish his electrolytes. Soda was for whenever he was treating himself to some junk food. Might as well go big or go home (and eat healthier).

[allfearstofallto]

Can you imagine Sylus, who I consider to be the one who's love language is physical touch, with someone who just isn't physically affectionate?

Not that you don't like him, you're just not as touchy feely as he is. Maybe you grew up in environment that was more reserved, one where every touch had to have meaning. So you never did anything as rash as hug or kiss someone without a reason.

Sylus respects this. He respects everything about you. He understands why you are the way you are and knows that you can't help it, but he's growing desperate. He'll never force anything onto you that you don't want. He approaches you the way he would an actual kitten, starting with the tips of his fingers and seeing if you allow it before sinking into the feeling of you.

You don't touch without reason, Sylus remembers that. So he makes sure there's a reason for everything that he does. When he holds your hands, squeezing them in his larger ones, he brings them up to his chest, letting you feel the way his heart beats for you. When he peppers your face in soft passionate kisses, his lips will find your ear, where he'll whisper affectionate words of love, yearning, and adoration. His hands only touch your hips when he wants to pick you up. He plays with strands of your hair before styling it. All this because he respects your wishes.

Touch him of your own volition and he's over the moon, but he won't show such a thing on his face. Maybe a little smirk, but nothing more. And he'll never rush you, never make you touch him in the way he desperately desires to be touched. He lets you explore and discover his body, let's you find the places where your hands fit best. Anywhere your fingers graze him is good enough for him anyways.

"Having fun down there?" He'll ask, voice low and rich, but trembling with a bit of excitement.

"Hm?" You look up from your phone, only to notice you've rested your head against his shoulder. "I guess," you say, rather nonchalantly with a shrug, and your eyes are back on your screen.

He adjusts so that your head is against his chest, instead of his shoulder. His arm snakes around your waist, it's for your comfort, he tells himself, that's the reason for this action, but he can't deny the fact that his fingers are just mindlessly trailing up and down his hip. And your hand, you've rested it against his sternum, it a warm touch to his heart.

A chuckle rumbles through his chest, a soft sound that you barely notice. You're both touching without a reason.

[nanaminokanojo]

MASTERLIST

After constantly meeting with Sukuna for several months, he invites you over to his place following an early dinner and you found out that he has a cat. It was grumpy just like him with black fluffy fur and luminous eyes that seemed to follow your every move with human-like intelligence as if it was judging you. It stayed close to its owner, slinking its body against his leg and later sitting on his lap like nobody's business as if to tell you, "He's mine. Fuck off."

It didn't like you.

At least the cat was clear about its feelings towards you. Its owner, you couldn't be too sure. You don't even know why he invites you out, his intentions as vague as how this whole thing between the two of you started. One day, you met through a common friend who was obviously setting the pair of you up, and when you thought you wouldn't see his face again – a fair assumption after he behaved rather rudely, saying he wasn't interested – he somehow got your number and eventually asked you out.

You chalked that up to him being apologetic after you called your friend out for subjecting you to Sukuna again, the choleric jerk that he is, but then promised on his mom's grave that he only gave your number to Sukuna and that was it. Everything he did was of his own volition, and you were torn about it. Maybe he found you attractive, just that he didn't like the idea of being set up. Maybe he wasn't really absolutely rude and wanted to make it up to you for giving you that impression. Who knows? You weren't that much interested, but you gave him a chance.

Well, he was attractive in an acquired taste kind of way, built impossibly tall and broad, hair in short, wavy tendrils that was the color of rosy dawn, rough around the edges, almost brutal in the way he says and does things. Strangely, you liked looking at him enough to actually spend time with him.

None of your speculations were proven. Ryomen Sukuna wasn't apologetic, not even remotely. He invited you to dinner, didn't put up much of a fight when you insisted to split the bill in half, and he wasn't overly polite either. He spoke in that same uncouth manner without putting up much of any pretense in front of you, not that you were offended. He's a potty mouth, you already knew that, but you'd rather have him speaking his mind in all honesty.

You didn't think he was all that attracted to you. Interested, probably, but that was difficult to decipher, too, at least the manner in which he found you interesting. Your so-called meetings were rather quiet with either of you refusing to say more about yourselves. It was torture for the first three times with your longest sentences to each other being three words long. You would say hello to each other, eat in silence with occasional comments about the food and then he would walk you to your car and bid each other good night. Everything felt forced and it was torture.

But to your surpise, he would invite you out again just when you thought there wouldn't be a repeat to whatever it was that you had going on. Why? You didn't know. Until it became a routine. And then you found yourself spending more time with him, mostly over meals on random days or just convenience store coffee when it's too late in the night to do anything. Both of you were busy after all.

Which brings you to your current situation. In his high-rise apartment that didn't look lived in. On a Saturday night. With his very possessive, very grumpy cat.

But you saw a very different side to Sukuna with his little pet. He didn't smile, he smirked. But with his cat, which he fondly called Ume, he did just that, gently scratching at its belly and talking silly with it. You sat there awkwardly, feeling like you've intruded on something private.

"You can pet her," Sukuna told you, making you go stiff on your spot when he looked at you as if you were an afterthought. He seems to be in a playful mood even prior to the whole cat scenario, smiling more, acting more gentlemanly, not that he wasn't on most times you spent together. It had you confused even if it had been going on for the last several times you've met with him. Or more precisely since that day you started saying more than three words to each other, conversing normally.

"I...don't think I should," you told him, eyes intent on the black fluff on his lap. Ume sat up as if it understood what you were talking about, eyes narrowing into slits from how they've been round and wide from its owner's attention.

Sukuna scooted closer to you, close enough for you to see cerise flecks in his dark irises. "You don't like cats?" He asked that question as if you were a walking red flag if you responded incorrectly according to his standards.

You shook your head. "No, it's not that. Ume doesn't seem to like me."

He looked at his cat then at you, brows furrowing. "Well, that's a problem," he deadpanned.

Was he fucking serious? You didn't want to delve into the intricacies of his statement as he continued to run his fingers through Ume's fur. But to say you were offended was an understatement, and you wanted nothing but to get the hell out of his house. So much for warming up to the idea of progress where your odd relationship was concerned.

Without thinking, you stood up from the couch, trying your best to keep your expressions neutral albeit taking herculean effort. "I think I should go."

Sukuna solemnly nodded, looking down and biting his lower lip, making you frown. He looked contrite, but you did see a ghost of a smile there, or perhaps you just imagined it. "I'll go get my keys."

"I can call a cab," you stated, your petulant mood seeping through your words, but he didn't wanna argue about that and insisted on driving you home. Why you didn't drive separately like you usually did was beyond you. What were you expecting anyway?

The drive had been quiet and you were annoyed that he was grinning, even letting out a chuckle here and there even if you were blatantly ignoring him. You just endured it until you arrived in front of your apartment complex.

But instead of getting out of his car, you just sat there. You glared at him when you saw how he was suppressing a smile as he reached over and undid your seat belt for you.

"What's so funny?" you demanded.

"You are."

Oh, okay. You scoffed. This was definitely the last time you were going out with him. You pursed your lips, trying to keep your frustration at bay. "I guess this is it."

Sukuna arched a brow at you, looking pissed yet oddly more charming that way. You hated that about him. "What?"

You rolled your eyes at him, not having any intention to lose to his temper. "I'm going. Bye –" You managed to open the door, but he reached out and closed it again, trapping you on your seat with his muscular arm.

"I don't think so, sweetheart," he stated, looking amused of all things.

"Sweet— Let me out."

"No."

You shrugged, lacking the energy to argue. "Go back to your cat, Sukuna."

He smirked at you then. "Are you jealous?"

"Offended is more like it."

Silence followed your words as you just watched Sukuna pushing his tongue against his cheek before chuckling again, his deep voice filling the car. "Damn, if I knew it would be this easy to see this side of you, I would have taken you home sooner."

You spun on your seat, shooting him a dirty look. "What?" You were beyond confounded. You wanted to reach out and smack him on the head, anything to release the sudden burst of emotions you didn't even imagine you would feel towards Sukuna in all those times since you've first met, let alone in a span of minutes and a few choice words.

"I don't get why you kept taking me out despite the fact that we couldn't fucking communicate properly with each other —"

"You agreed—"

"—and you think the fact that your cat hates me is a major problem?" you finally exploded. "And you're doing this on purpose, too!"

At that, he burst out laughing.

"It's not funny!"

He sighed, letting up on his mischief as he tried to reach out and touch you, but you slapped his hand away. "Come now. Don't be mad, sweetheart."

"I'm not your sweetheart."

Sukuna took your hand in his, placing it against his cheek. You flinched, feeling his warmth against your palm, but he didn't let you pull it back. "I'm sorry. I just couldn't help teasing you all this time."

"Trust me, you did more than that." You made a face at him.

"It's just so hard to get any reaction from you. You're too damn quiet and I can't get a read on you. I can't even tell if you like being with me or not."

You let up on the barb, your anger fizzling to slight annoyance at the thought that he was puzzling about your intentions towards him as much as you were about his.

Sukuna gave your hand a gentle squeeze. "At least now I can tell you care enough to be offended at the prospect of me rejecting you because my cat dislikes you." He then tucked your hair behind your ear. "I want to see more. See what makes you tick. See more beyond my precious arctic sprite."

You were flustered by his words, the possessive way he addressed you, making you squirm on your seat, but in a good way. "Well, you'll get more ice if your tactic to get to know me better is to piss me off."

Sukuna cupped your face with both hands. "Knowing what you don't like makes it easier for me to know the opposite."

"You're a jerk."

"I know, baby. But you don't dislike me, do you?"

It was your turn to keep a serious face as you looked away from him and said, "That depends on my dog."

He smirked at you. "You have a dog?"

"No."

"So..." He scratched placed his hand at the back of his neck and you understood it as embarrassment from small talk, belated after months of knowing each other. "Do you like cats or dogs?"

"Spiders."

Sukuna looked taken aback but he just nodded. "Cool."

Suddenly, and for the first time in front of him, you started snickering much to his astonishment. You were giving him more than he's asked for in one go, and it was overwhelming him in ways he didn't imagine.

And then you said, "I like cats, too."

Just then, he placed an arm at the back of your seat and leaned towards you. "There's something else I want to know whether you would like or dislike."

You turned your head towards him. "What's that?"

"This." He closed the remaining gap between you, his lips dipping to find yours in a kiss, albeit quick was enough to hot-wire your brain and for blood to rush under your cheeks. "So?"

"I don't –"

Kiss. "How about now?"

You're much to dazed to say anything.

Kiss. This time, he lingered a tad longer, moving to coax your lips to respond, but he pulled away much too quickly, grinning when you moved forward to chase his lips, your hands shooting out to hold him in place, savoring his warmth and the way he felt against you.

Safe to say you liked it. Very much.

A/N: This has been in my drafts for who-knows-how-long and I just found it again.

© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY GEGE AKUTAMI’S “JUJUTSU KAISEN”. [20240601]

PHOTOS/IMAGES/GIF/FANART/ANY MEDIA CREDITS GO TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

[poguehearted77]

Pink Silk

Summary: Where Rafe is a prisoner in his own mind and can't stop the filthy flashbacks he gets of the time you shared together.

Rafe's body aches before his eyes even have the chance to open. The expensive sheets are strewn across the bed and covering his bare lower body. Eyes still close, as if second nature his brawny arm reaches over to the other side of the bed where you once were.

Feeling the cold, vacant mattress under the palm of his hands was enough to haul him out of his partial state of slumber. His eyes fluttered open, squinting under the bright rays of light that peaked through the gaps of the flowing drapes that danced with the warm summer breeze.

You were gone, already left for work, he presumes. He supposes he may as well follow in your footsteps. He prepares for the day, looking over his shoulder to take one last glance at the ruined bed. Getting a vivid memory of the way he had your face buried in the sheets, blabbering incoherently as he pounded you from behind.

A sinister grin stretches across his lips as he steps into the shower. Hissing at the hot water rolls down his back grazing over the little cuts that trailed all along it thanks to you. With a hand against the wall, he's reminded of how sinful you sounded in his ear when he had your legs wrapped around his waist, hips snapping against yours mercilessly while your nails dug into the flesh on his back.

Against his own volition, he feels his dick slowly stiffening up with every recount. He takes care of it before he finishes his shower. With a towel wrapped around his waist, and you still plaguing his mind he texts you. He spontaneously decided he'd take you out for lunch, to which you eventually replied with a pink heart and a thumbs up.

You'd never been a great texter, but in all fairness, neither was he. You both didn't have time to overthink little texts, you felt emojis said everything you needed to say while Rafe hardly used them and opted for unintentionally sassy abbreviations instead.

You still remember his response to your invite to your aunt's wedding. "k."

-

Rafe walked into the Hamilton Hotel, just one of the hundreds of hotel chains that your family owns. The elegantly patterned marble floors shine bright off the reflections from the chandeliers that hang down from above.

"Cameron!" Rafe's head snaps up to the source of the deep voice calling him. He pockets the small gift he'd brought for you and approaches your father who had just finished talking lecturing the receptionist.

"How are you, Mr. Hamilton?" Rafe is polite, accepting the shake of hands your father offered. "Better now that there's some competence around. I couldn't be happier that my daughter found a man like you, raised right like a true gentleman." Rafe's cheeks heat up at the praise but his body burns from the thoughts they trigger.

"I know my Y/n is in good hands with a respectful young man like yourself." Rafe gulps, mind replaying the way he did in fact have you in his hands last night and bent over his lap. Oh, and he was the farthest thing from respectful. The bruises on the inside of your thighs were a testament to it, and perhaps the slight limp you had as you were making your way over to them right now.

"Daddy," You smile, referring to your father but both heads turn to you. The blood drains from your face as you realize Rafe had just publicly reacted to that title in front of your father. Thankfully, he didn't notice and Rafe looks away.

Your dad hugs you before bidding his farewells and walking off. You look to Rafe with a look of disbelief and the two of you snicker like little kids. "I brought you somethin'" Rafe pulls out a small box from his back pocket.

A small grin stretches over your lips, "What calls for the occasion." Your boyfriend shrugs, "Jus' felt like it." Your surprise is genuine as the box slides open to reveal a Cartier bracelet. "Rafee," You pout, letting him put it on you, adding to the small stack of high-end jewellery that adorned your wrists.

"You're so cute," You smile, gently stroking his cheek with your right hand. Rafe leans into it, one of his arms slinking around your waist. His hand resting on the small of your back, subtly adorning the material of your baby pink dress. "Is this new?" He asks and you shake your head.

The other guests around were regulars and far too familiar with the high-profile couple who looked like they always needed to get a room (and you did). However, the older clients always thought you two were the cutest, reminding them of their younger selves.

"So you won't mind if I tear this off you later?" A laugh bubbles out of you and you push him away, "I'll think about it. If you buy me another one, you might have yourself a deal." You'd already begun to walk out the door, your walk enchanting and Rafe couldn't peel his eyes off you.

"I'll buy you the whole store." He promises from where he stands, legs frozen as he admires you from behind. "You coming or what? We've only got an hour." You beckon and that's all it takes to have him springing after you.

Unsurprisingly, the majority of the hour was put to good use in the back of Rafe's truck, and he kept true to his word and got you both something quick to eat afterward.

Promising a shopping spree for you after work as he couldn't help himself and accidentally tore the strap of your dress.

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPxDC. Talon Dick. Part 2 of Danny Fenton is a new master of The Court of Owls

~Hail, Emperor, those who are about to die salute you~

Danny was terrified when he got the body of Talon in his morgue. The Court of Owls was notorious for leaving no trace after work. But Talon, a young man only a few years older than him, did not look like a mindless killing machine at all. Of course, the first time he had a couple of stab wounds from his new acquaintance but after numerous assurances that his help would remain their little secret and that he would not inform his superiors that he had fucked up on the mission, Talon began to trust him a little. as one dead boy to another. In a few months, most of the Talons come to him for first aid, and of course he got attached to the guys. After all, Gotham is not Amity Park and without the other dead ones around Phantom felt a little lonely. It was nice to give these poor people a few quiet minutes. Danny’s assistant has warned him many times not to mess with the Court of Owls, but Danny are Phantom and from the first time he met one of them he was planning to lose his temper and beat the boys' bosses to free them.

Fenton was not prepared to lead the Court of Owls. Even if Danny got his education as a villain he never thought he’d work according to his profession. But leave a whole den? nest? of creatures turned into weapons he could not. Of course, the best choice after defeating the leaders of the Court would be to destroy the entire organization. But Danny couldn’t do that.

Talons were killers, means of intimidation, even if not of their own volition. They will be killed (again) or sent to prison for the rest of their lives. Talons needed safety and a good therapist, not all of this. Danny’s scared, and he doesn’t know how to take care of them, but the others won’t do it. People are afraid of everything different. They won’t care that these dead are just victims, they’ll only see monsters. He could be half-human, but now he has to think like a full ghost. Talons are dead like him. And they have been dehumanized, tortured, used. People can be cruel. To do the right thing, he has to protect them.

It was difficult for Danny to identify likes and dislikes of his new friends because they always had the same facial expression and were taught that they had no feelings. Bullshit. Danny’s parents also think ghosts have no emotions, but they just have wrong theories and do not manipulate them to make ghosts think the same. Well, maybe it’s because they don’t think ghosts can think at all, but still! So, Danny know that number three loves strawberry jam, and number five always steals some of his cereal, and number 11 always gets closer to the music column to enjoy the sound. And he also know that the Talons weren’t fully fed in their organization because they definitely have problems with their digestive system, and he is going to fix it. Vlad said that he had trouble taking human food for only a few months after the portal accident, and some of the Talons were dead for years and still use injecting nutrient solutions. When a Dead Man can’t have a couple of spoons of treats, well, that’s a crime.

He needs to find a way to consult with Frostbite and conduct a full-fledged health diagnostics for his 'minions'. And he needs to settle the paperwork so guys have a legitimate reason to live in the Infinite Realms.

~~~~~ Danny: Hey Jazz, I’m in trouble. When can you come to Gotham? This time I don’t mind hearing a little advice.

~~~~~

Even though Dr Fenton smelled like death and blood all the time, the smell was different. And this difference was enough that something dead inside them swore allegiance to this Owl at their will. Not that they had it, of course. Weapons don’t have free will. But at least pretending to be able to choose is nice.

The new Master was weird, but in a good way. Not that this Talon know more about what is good than any other Talon. Ah, Di- Talon had a headache. Anyway, serving him is right. They all feel it..And feelings matter!! Well, they are not supposed to have them too but… looks like the young owl didn’t mind.

Master was not angry at how Talon № 4 frowned when the master had to pull a bullet out of his shoulder, and he missed Talon's sweet laughter when it saw the battle of Signal and Spice King on TV. The only times he raised his voice to them were when they were trying to threaten people near the master. Looks like this owl wanted to instill fear on his own. Strange. Usually there was always an enemy of the court who had to be hunted down and destroyed.

~~~~~

Danny: See, when you kill people, you do not make it easy for me. First, I will need to examine the bodies and write the report of their death. Second, if their souls remain restless, they will become my problem again. No more trying to get the cashier to have a heart attack. He said they ran out of the product I needed, not that he’s cursing my family for the next millennium. No one wants to see any more angry ghosts in Gotham. Me after a 24-hour shift is enough, okay?

Talons were alarmed. So far the master had shown no signs that he might want to completely break one of the weapons. But what if this owl is planning on punishing them for all their mistakes at once when he’s really angry?

Talon is not supposed to show initiative or empathy. But Talon 12, who suffered an injury in the course of a mission with old owls, has not yet recovered. They inadvertently hid it when the leadership changed. 12 has not yet met Doctor Fenton, and they do not know whether the privileges of medical care are retained now when they belong to him. So far, the Master has been rather careless about their movements and a few of them have slipped away for a while to check on a fellow. They didn’t lie if they weren’t asked about another weapon, right? They shouldn’t be punished too severely when the Owl finds out. Talons were hoping that Doctor Fenton, who was not in a hurry to look at the document of the court, would allow them not to write off the damaged thing. № 12 was an old and experienced weapon and could train beginners even if it has only one hand now.

Well, that was the plan. Talons allowed themselves to become too careless. Terrible mistake. Even the Owl that is usually nice to them remains dangerous. They need to find a way to satisfy their young master. Young Owls always have anger issues, not that Talons can judge.

The youngest Talon shared information that he sometimes had flashbacks of a working red bird who always had a murderous expression until he got to the coffee pot fluid. And it's non-Talon past was never afraid of this bird. The chick could always be calmed with this dark liquid. Coffee is something that will return the master to the favorable mood!

Talons rejoiced at this remarkable discovery and decided to send one of them on a mission as soon as possible to get rid of the potential danger.

~~~~

Danny: Thanks for the coffee, man. Hey, you also took another drink, judging by the dollars in the check. I'm so proud of you! How it was? Good?

Talon thought for a second and nodded. Yes, it was good. He didn’t drink the drink himself but when a coffee shop employee wrote down his order with a trembling hand, a boy appeared in the door.

This boy, now almost a young man, he was from his memories. Another coffee was automatically added to the order.

On his way out, Talon walked up to the sleeping chick and gave a cup to him. Even without opening his eyes, the bat’s cub sniffed and sucked the drink. Dick chirped with delight and patted boy's head, ignoring the frozen people.

That's a true magic drink which is commanding the minds of the powerful of this world. Yes, it will help them for sure!

~~~~

Danny: See, Jazz, Dick’s making progress! He went to the coffee shop today. That’s great, isn’t it?

Jazz: First, don’t call him that, we’re still not sure that’s his name and not the way Owls used to insult him.

Danny: Hey, the fact that he hissed when you called him Richard proves nothing. I don’t like being called Daniel either, or, over my dead body, Dan. I have to call him something. They’re all Talons. What are your suggestions? Jazz: We’ll talk about this later. Now back to the coffee question. Danny, did you forget anything when you let Talon go for a walk? Danny: Which one? Jazz: Don’t play dumb! Did you open the news headlines today or not? This is serious! Danny: What? Shit...civilian clothes. I didn’t think he’d wear a combat suit for it. Jazz: Didn’t you give them outfits for everyday use? Danny: Yeah, I did! But they still wear their Halloween outfits. All the time. Look, it’s not my fault they take everything I say as an order. When I asked them to make the tea and our teapot broke, they broke into some guy’s house and stole it. Jazz: Which guy? Did you at least apologize? Danny: One of Hood’s goons. I’m pretty sure he’s already met Dick on patrol, 'cause the first thing he did called Jason and start crying about being followed. Lucky for him Red was at my house that night and went to calm goon down. But I swear to you, Dick was a little shit on purpose. Of all the apartments choose his? Nah, such coincidences do not exist.

Jazz: I could be happy that he’s getting more independent in his decision making but now I feel like I have to offer the poor guy a discount therapy course.

Damian: Drake, we need to talk. I know about your investigation. You suspect one of the Talons is our missing Grayson. I’m willing to provide some evidence in exchange for… Tim: I don’t suspect, I know that. Damian: What? Where from? Tim: Well, the quadruple somersault was a good hint. And the fact that the Red Hood ran from him through the streets screaming that he wouldn’t take lunch from a damn golden child is also a tip. Damian:...Not a word to my father until we know more, right? I don’t want my older brother thrown in Arkham. Tim: Agree. It’s not like he doesn’t have a memory problem. He wouldn’t have made Alfred worried if leaving was his choice. We need more information.

Meanwhile in Gotham, Alfred aka the only one batfam member with more than one functioning brain cell *on his way to his first grandson and future husband of his sweet angel Jason*.

Danny: Jazz, we need to clean this house right now. Jazz: Since when do you start spring cleaning? Danny: I don’t know how to explain, it’s not a ghost sense, it’s more an unexplained sense of danger. Where’s the vacuum cleaner?

~~~~~

Talon №5 stood in the knitting shop in thought. What color would the little mistress prefer? It should remain useful even if the Owl does not give them direct orders. Knitting a cute sweater for mistress Dani would be a good start. Yeah, that color’s gonna be perfect. And maybe it should stop holding those needles like a weapon, it makes the cashier nervous, and he wants to pay without saving a civilian from losing consciousness.

~~~~~

Danny became a little alarmed when Talon threw himself at the old man standing on the porch. To his surprise, the Briton readily embraced the bird, and Dick let him. Talons who stood behind Danny happily chirped. Making their youngest member happy things always meant something good.

Alfred: Gentlemen, good afternoon. I guess I should thank you all for taking care of my dear grandson. Would you let me come in for a cup of tea?

[itsgrimeytime]

like father, like son || Rick Grimes (TWD) x gn!Reader

AVAILABLE ON AO3

request for @zomb-1-egutzz

Inspiration: I Wanna Be Yours by Arctic Monkeys

Summary: Taking care of Carl, was like instinct. Ever since you've met him, you've just cared for him like your own. You don't know why, you just slotted into his side. And you thought that was pretty simple. But, what you had never thought about, was what it would mean for Rick.

TWs: mention of Lori's death, mention of Hershel's death, mention of Beth's death, angst, crying, essentially a panic attack, pent-up emotions, cursing, blood, gunshot wounds, injuries, unrequited love (but not really), and all things TWD.

[[A/N: hey bestie <333, hope you like it. I write as a stress reliever but this one kinda hurt a little bit. And just fyi, Carl is alive and well, (canon is not real, so it will not hurt me). Also, Rick is down bad in this. Terribly down bad. Enjoy :))) ]]

You were a long-time family friend of the Greene's, and when you had nowhere else to go, you went to Hershel's farm. Even before the apocalypse, you helped when you could on the farm, and you knew all of them really well. A little like they were family.

But when it all started... everything went to shit for you pretty quickly.

And you... you had nowhere else to go.

With your family's blood on your hands and visions of unhinged jaws (that you didn't think you'd ever wash away), you ran as fast as you could. You just let your feet guide you and ended up on the Greene farm.

You still remember how hard they hugged you when you showed up, even with the blood (their blood) all over you. They held you then and kept you breathing for a long time. You don't know what you would've done without them.

But one day (after weeks of being helpless and grieving a loss you just couldn't get over, not really), you just pushed it all down with one motto: keep breathing.

You didn't get to enjoy life anymore, how could you? The world was ending, and all you needed to do was stay alive.

You didn't have to like it.

So you asked Hershel how to shoot a gun, and taught yourself how to use a knife. You knew Hershel didn't like it, the violence, but you wouldn't hear it. Because if your family had lost their lives, you sure as hell weren't losing yours.

The Greenes were worried about you, you could tell. Every day that went by where you didn't smile or laugh, and instead, practiced shooting bottles or killing a few walkers for the thrill of it, they stared at you just a little longer. With just a mix of worry and pity.

You didn't want to worry them, but you were just doing what you had to, to survive.

If you thought about your family... you'd probably run into the walkers. Tear the life out of your body yourself. How were you supposed to enjoy life when they got that privilege ripped away? It wasn't fair.

So, you avoided everything else and kept your focus on five things: breathing, shelter, protection, water, and food. That was it. You would even offer to go get things out of your own volition, and all your trips made you good at killing walkers. You did it effortlessly early on, and you're pretty sure the Greenes couldn't decide if that was a good or bad thing.

But everything changed when a Dad showed up begging Hershel to save his kid.

That day had made your head spin, seeing a little boy have a gunshot wound. It made your eyes burn, and your head fill with what plagued your nightmares (unhinged jaws and bloody hands). You avoided the kid at all costs.

You hadn't initially known Rick, or even really wanted to (him, Lori, and Shane were definitely far too much for you to handle) but you were kind of the mediator. Hershel hated the violence that his group had, but he loved you. And Rick's group agreed with your 'violent' ways, so naturally, you sat right in the middle.

You didn't want it, perse, but you got used to it pretty quickly. You truly couldn't count on both hands how many times you had to step physically in between Hershel and Rick. So, somehow, someway, you'd earned his trust and respect.

That being said, you didn't really talk. Rick had a lot on his shoulders, with a pregnant wife, an injured son, and whatever the hell he and Shane had going on (you stayed the fuck away from that). And you weren't really a 'get to know me' kind of person at the time.

But, everything shifted when his kid got better.

You watched him kind of roam around the farm a lot. Rick and Lori had a lot going on, you understood that, and you know Rick tried but he still looked... lonely. And there was something heavy in you that knew he wasn't going to really have a childhood, that he lost something so precious.

There was nothing different that day, at all. You woke up, made sure your knife was safe in your pocket and went out. You did that often, even though Hershel and the girls hated it, just disappeared into nearby neighborhoods or whatever buildings you could get into (you were getting good at picking locks). That day you were looking for anything you could get your hands on, anything.

Endlessly walking through a culdesac, darting in between each house, trying to find anything of value. Food, water, something to help with shelter-

Instead, you found something else.

In the dead grass of one of these classy houses' front yard was one soccer ball. It was dirty, but not too bad for the apocalypse (you had seen far worse, and were probably worse yourself actually). With a thought, you picked it up in your hands, squeezing it, and it wasn't flat either.

You weren't sure why (or maybe you knew exactly why), but that's all you brought back to the farm.

Every day, when your brain would get to be too much, you'd throw it around in your hands or dribble it around the yard. At first, Maggie had looked at you oddly, but now, it seemed to relax her (and Beth and Hershel). It was healthier, or they, at the very least, thought so.

You could pretty much immediately feel his eyes on you though, a little longingly. Maybe that's why, when you'd never kicked it too far in the entire time you had it, you kicked it too far.

It rolled up and hit him in the back of the leg.

He turned to look at you, blue eyes sparkling a little, and then down at the ball.

On instinct, you spoke, "Shit."

The kid looked directly at you then.

"Don't say that, kid," you mended, quickly -maybe even a little awkwardly.

"Carl," he spoke then.

You questioned, "What?"

"My name's Carl," he explained with quite the intention in his voice, "-not kid."

You laughed a little, maybe for the first time in a while. You could nearly hear Maggie's gaze snap to you at the sound. She was always the most worried.

"Well, Carl," you hummed, playfully, "-you gonna pass me my ball back?"

He pressed his lips together in a thin line like he was thinking -the hat on his head wobbled a little. It was endearing.

"Only if you let me play too," he negotiated, a big grin on his face and something in you softened (for the first time in a long time).

You tilted your head, hand on your hip, "You drive a hard bargain, sir."

Carl laughed, and you felt your smile grow bigger. Now, you felt more eyes on you, Rick and Lori. Or at least Rick.

Apparently, you were making quite the spectacle.

"Alright, Carl," you finally replied, "-you've got a deal."

That was when it all started when Carl changed your life. Every day that you could, you'd play a game of soccer with him, eventually it developed more into a chatty sort of game. He told you a lot, and you told him about the things you used to do as a kid.

It felt like you had a hand in helping him keep his innocence. It was nice.

You remember the eyes sort of fading off of you, well. Except for one.

Rick was always watching. You couldn't understand if it was a Carl thing, or a worrying thing, or what exactly. But, you did notice it.

And eventually, Carl convinced him to join too.

"C'mon, Dad," he pleaded, "-just one game."

"Carl, I gotta-"

"Please," he turned on the puppy dog eyes, you laughed a little at how he softened immediately. His eyes shot to yours a second at the noise, you didn't think much of it.

"How are we supposed to play wit' just three of us?" He relented, just a smidge, "-Don't we need equal teams?"

Carl frowned.

Your mouth was open before you could even stop it, "Oh, please, I'm good enough to take the two of you on my own."

Rick's lips quirked into a smile, you had the thought that he was handsome before shoving it far away, "Are ya?"

"I am," you reiterated, just doing what felt natural, "-you too scared to try, Grimes?"

Carl laughed at that, almost giddy, it made something in your chest warm. Mission accomplished.

And with a breath, Rick readied himself -blue eyes solid on yours, "'S see whatcha got, Y/N."

That wouldn't be the last time the three of you would play soccer together, but it would be the first time you really got to know Rick. It remained that way, where you just played with Rick and Carl on days they could or days you could.

You'd found a connection, and it was nice.

But then, you were kind of a friend to Carl. You truly cared about him, yeah, you weren't on the level of a parent for him. Not at all. That just wasn't your dynamic, you didn't want to step on any toes.

Lori's or Rick's.

Before you could stop it, the fateful day arrived.

You were strung between a delicate mix of concern and disbelief. The overthrow of the farm was big, and maybe so was finding the prison, but this... this day was much worse.

You'd known Lori a little bit better then, she talked to you a little (because you were always around Carl). And she seemed nice, really, just in a fucked up situation that she could hardly handle herself. Nevertheless, to handle it for Carl. Plus, the whole Shane situation... He was dead now, and that really couldn't be easy on her conscience. (You kind of gathered the situation a little bit, when you were getting to know Rick. He hadn't said anything, but you understood enough.)

And when she went into labor, you hated that you weren't hopeful. Hated it.

Carl went with Maggie to help deliver, and your heart twisted in your chest (so insanely worried) but you needed to help the others.

When Maggie came out of the room, with just Carl and the baby -blood all over her hands, your heart sunk to the bottom of your chest. Lower, if it could. There was this little spark of hope that Carl was okay, but then you looked at him, really looked at him.

Rick was crying, and belligerent, and he did the very same. Just looked at his son, "No, no, no-"

God, he... he didn't-

You don't think you could ever forget the next moment.

A sob was racking up your throat, heavy and so suffocating as you watched Rick just lose it and Carl stayed steady in place, only looking at the ground. And you felt like you were going to throw up.

Stomach twisting, as your eyes got cloudy.

You hadn't even noticed it, maybe because your mind was reeling, but then you heard the slap of footsteps and then a body running into yours. Carl, Carl-

Hands shaking, your hands wrapped around him, holding him tightly -swallowing back what you could. Your body moved on its own.

You crouched down, you couldn't stop the tears then, eyes skimming over his face. He was just looking at you, blue eyes filling with tears, and before you knew it you were cupping his face and wiping all of them away.

"Oh, baby, baby-" you were whispering, just for him to hear, "-I'm so sorry."

And then, you pulled him into another hug. That time you didn't let go, you would hold him until he did. Tears wetting your shoulder you only squeezed him tighter -kissing him on the forehead when it felt like your soul was crushed into pieces.

That was where it started.

You still went on trips, but you stayed around a lot more. Because, as you were caring for Carl, you also started caring for Rick. They went hand-in-hand. That was much more important than anything else.

It started with going on trips, and getting Carl books and candy when you could. It grew from there though, you started siphoning off some of your food to give him extra. When he would get hurt, even small little cuts, you were immediately there -patching him up. Making sure he was completely fine.

And Rick... well, he was more complicated. It was dragging him away from the farm when he seemed so tired he could barely stand, it was getting him out of bed when he didn't want to even breathe, it was making sure he was eating, and it was sometimes guiding him back to reality when he saw Lori.

He started getting better eventually, and you did convince him to go see the baby. He'd been avoiding her as much as physically possible; you told him he should.

"She's a piece of Lori that you'll always have, Rick. Her and Carl."

He'd look at you a certain type of way you couldn't label then, but eventually agreed. So, you thought it was going well. As he became more conscious again though, similar to his previous self (sometimes you thought maybe even better), he started noticing.

Rick saw all that Carl had gathered, the finger pointed back to you. He was eating candy, the finger pointed back to you. Carl fell and scraped his knees, you were near immediately by his side while Rick watched (the finger pointed back to you).

And when you ate, you'd done how you always did, almost on instinct. Siphoning off some of your food and piling it onto Carl's plate.

You're not sure when Rick caught that, at all, really. But you knew he did.

Because, eventually, he started sitting beside you, and as quick as you'd siphon off to Carl, he'd siphon some of his off to you.

The first time he'd done it, you froze -staring at your plate.

"Rick, you don't-"

He didn't even flinch, blue eyes taking you in -grateful, "I do."

"Well," you reasoned, "-don't do it every day. You need to eat too."

"Don't ya give some to Carl every day?"

"Yeah, but-"

"No buts," he promptly finished, smiling at you in a new type of way, continuing his conversation with Daryl.

He'd done similar things, and eventually, your care spanned over to Judith. It wasn't as pressing as Carl, as Beth usually had her dealt with, but you'd been the one to feed her a few times (sat right beside Carl). And you won't lie you did do the baby voice a few times.

You didn't know it then, but Rick was looking at you in a new type of way.

And then, things happened in rapid succession.

The Governor did what he did, and Hershel died right in front of your eyes. You grabbed Maggie that day so tight, holding her as you both fell to the ground. It felt just like when your family... Your heart was thrown out of your chest and stomped into the dirt.

The fall of the prison didn't give you much time to grieve. You'd escaped with Carl and Rick, Judith had disappeared and you hoped with everything in your chest that she was still alive. God, you had never felt so low in your life.

Those days weren't good, and you had holed yourself up -lock and key. The only person who could through to you was Carl, despite how much Rick tried.

Breathing, shelter, protection, water, and food, but just for a bigger audience now.

The Claimers only proved you right. Seeing Carl like that, the threats of what they were going to do to him? You would've snapped if Rick hadn't.

"He's mine."

That day, you felt yourself come back again.

You held Carl tight against your chest, rubbing his hair over and over. Just before that, you scanned his whole body carefully -looking everywhere for anything at all. You would've killed them again if you could have if there was.

Holding him, you recenter yourself -calming the shake of your hands and the beating of your heart. You whispered, "You're okay, you're okay, you're okay-"

Carl had stopped you then, leveling his blue eyes on you, "I'm okay."

You smiled, maybe a little teary, reiterating, "You're okay."

And then, you saw Rick.

That was the thing about you, you were hardwired to care for them both at this point (for maybe more reasons than one, but you wouldn't admit that out loud). Making sure Carl was entirely fine, you kissed his forehead and spoke.

"Imma go help your Dad, okay?"

Hunting down a rag and a little bit of extra water, you slowly made your way over to him. He still had his eyes closed, and his hands were shaking; you simply sat right in front of him -wordlessly. You hardly even breathed, not wanting to startle him at all, but somehow still wanting to to bring him back.

You waited, patiently, for his eyes to open again, and when they did, you smiled a little.

"Hey, Grimes," you whispered, brandishing the rag, "-Thought you might need a little help, that okay?"

He looked at you in the same type of way he always did, one that you still couldn't label.

Before speaking lowly and a little slurred in his accent, "Yeah, 'at's okay."

You took a careful breath and leaned forward -gently scrubbing the blood off of his skin. Moving slowly, his eyes fluttered shut, and something in your chest tightened. He trusted you so much.

Your heart lept into your throat at the thought, and you took the moment to just look at Rick. How he differed from the first time you saw him, the time in his face. Longer hair that curled, the stubble that climbed up his cheeks, he was so different, but still somehow the same. Your heart stuttered in your chest.

That wasn't new, but it felt like it was.

With a breath, you continued wiping away what you could -pushing all around his face, smoothing over his lips, and dabbing a little on his facial hair. You moved slowly, not wanting to irritate his skin, but it made it take a little longer. As you did so, your fingertips brushed along his skin -just a little. It made your head spin.

You leaned back, satisfied, before grabbing his hands -left one first. You looked at them a moment, eyeing the callouses and the rough skin along his palm. His life was riddled on them, practically written there.

You cleared your throat, blinking back into focus.

Scrubbing away on the back and then flipping it to the front, you repeated the process.

He was looking at you now, blue eyes intently focused. You felt his steady gaze as you curled your hands around his, and for a moment it felt like you couldn't breathe.

Your heart beating heavily in your chest, you tried to stay focused.

When his skin was a sort of pink instead of blood red, you let go of his hands. Decidedly, you patted his cheek with a smile (the buzz of his skin against yours made your head spin).

"All better," you chimed, playfully.

He laughed a little then, and you felt something in you stir. Long ago dormant. Handsome, your mind spoke.

It was suddenly very hard to ignore it now, though. This close to his face, and he kind of looked like he-

With a breath, snapping your eyes from his and clearing your throat. "I'll um, go see if Carl needs me."

He just smiled at you in a certain type of way.

The two of you never talked about it again, but you did find him looking at you more.

And then Terminus.

To think about it now, made your skin crawl and bile rise up your throat. Beth died right in front of you, shot right through the head. She wasn't... There was no way-

You felt part of yourself crumble that you didn't think you could get back. God, she was so young-

You had new nightmares; they made your stomach twist and your sleep come to a relative halt. It wasn't just your family now (although it kind of was), it was Beth and Hershel. They had both been so sudden, your mind was still reeling. The gunshot bouncing through your ears, even now, as you lay on a blanket -Carl just beside you.

Your eyes snapped to him, watching the rise and fall of his chest. Alive, it thrummed along your mind, alive.

You watched it for a few moments, letting your mind settle on that fact. Carl is safe, Carl is fine. Something in your shoulders relaxed, and your breaths weren't as heavy in your lungs.

Alive, alive, alive, alive.

Your stomach twisted because you didn't know if Judith was.

Instinctively, you shot up in your spot, breaths hollowed out in your chest. You blinked a few times, bringing yourself back to the ground beneath your fingers. Chancing a look at Carl again, you found him still fast asleep.

You exhaled a long breath, you weren't going to sleep tonight. Every time you closed your eyes, you'd either see... them or Carl could be hurt, there was no good reason to sleep.

Shaking your hands, you stood up. You stood there a moment, taking in the night -the buzz of the bugs, the shine of the stars, and the (luckily) very distant groans of the walkers.

"Ya okay?"

You startled in place, shit. Rick was on watch duty, you forgot. You tried to volunteer, but he'd refused ("'Aven't seen you sleep a second."). You weren't sure how to feel about how attentively he seemed to watch you.

You bit at your lips a second, swallowing, and wiping your hands down your legs. Your eyes were fogging up, and your throat was clogged. You felt a little like you couldn't breathe-

"Y/N?"

You blinked, deliriously, and your eyes were watery now, and it felt somehow like your lungs were filled. A bit like every breath got stuck in your throat.

"Hey, hey, look at me, sweetheart."

And then, Rick was suddenly in front of you. You hadn't even heard him move, the pounding of your heart was so loud-

With the gentlest of movements, he held your jaw, bringing your eyes to his.

"Hey," he spoke gently, concern flitting through his eyes, "-hey. 'At's goin' on?"

You swallowed, something clawing up your throat (but your heart was softer in your head now), your eyes falling to his jacket, "I just-"

"C'mon, talk to me," he hummed, bringing his eyes to yours again -something heavy in his eyes, worry.

"I just," and you felt your voice catch in your throat, you felt the tears slip out of your eyes, "-I just... I just miss them, and... and every time I close my eyes, Rick, it's just-"

His thumbs rubbed away your tears, gently moving back and forth, "I know, baby, I know. I miss 'em too."

Something in your mind noted that 'baby' was new, but you weren't focused on that. Your mind was running at 100 miles an hour, and all you could see clearly was Rick.

Your body acted on instinct, as you threw yourself into him -digging your face into his shoulder and wrapping your arms around his neck. He seemed slow to react for a moment, but carefully, his hands came to wrap around your waist.

You took a deep breath in, just smelling the woodsy smell he always seemed to carry around with him. It made the tension in your body melt, and he seemed to notice it -tightening his grip slightly.

"I gotcha," he whispered, maybe like he was a little scared to break the moment, "-'s gonna be okay, I promise."

You fell asleep on his shoulder later that night, one of his arms tight along your side. And if he shushed everyone that morning afterward (wanting to keep you close as long as possible maybe), kissing your temple whenever you stirred, looking at you a little like you were the most precious thing in the world, you'd never know.

It was easier after that. Any time you felt it all coming back up, Rick would be right there, hand smoothed along your shoulder, pushing you into his side, or brushing his hand along yours while you walked. You weren't sure if you could get used to it all.

And then, a good day came.

Judith, baby Judith was back.

You felt the sob wrack up through your throat, as you smoothed your hand over her little hair. Your breaths were shaky but you were smiling, and so were both Rick and Carl. All of you were huddled together, crying, and for a split second, it felt like maybe you were a little family.

You bit back the thought but peeked up at Rick just to find him looking right back at you. Something in your chest fluttered.

Finding Alexandria was a little like a fever dream, all of you weren't trusting it, especially since Terminus. But eventually, something in you relaxed as you watched Carl know people his age and find friends. You weren't as scared anymore.

That being said, you had your own home, but it stayed empty. You were constantly in the Grimes' house. Whether for Carl, Judith, or Rick, you were always there. And Rick didn't seem to mind at all. (Sometimes you thought he preferred it.)

That day was a normal one, you'd crossed on over to the Grimes' -bouncing a little on your toes. It was your day to watch Judith, well, it always kind of ended up being a team effort at the end. But, if Rick had something to do, you'd be on baby duty.

Walking in like you always did, the house was eerily quiet.

You pursed your lips, "Rick?"

He called out, from the kitchen you'd guessed (you could hear the sizzle of a pan), "In 'ere!"

You moved with a practiced grace, smoothing around the piles of toys like you lived here (and in essence, you kind of did). Just as you entered the doorway, you started again.

"Hey, where are our kids?"

And then you stepped into the room and got a look at Rick. Clean-shaven Rick. Sharp jawline, blue eyes, Rick.

Your mind went completely blank.

He turned to you then, sort of smiling, "Our?"

Blinking, you cleared your throat, "Sorry, what?"

"You said," he was stepping closer, something shining in his eyes, "-our kids."

It was hard to focus, but you'd gathered what he said.

"Shit, sorry," you started, scrambling a little, "-I didn't mean to-"

"No, no," he dismissed, eyes intently focused on yours (somehow you think his facial hair distracted from his eyes, were they always that blue?), "-you're right, darlin'. 'Ey are as much yours as 'ey are mine."

You took a deep breath in, deflecting a little and motioning to his face, "When did you...?"

"This mornin'," he answered, turning back to the pan (breakfast, you guessed), "-why? It look 'at bad?"

Your head was spinning, but you answered anyway.

"What, no," you answered, instinctively, "-it looks good. Great, actually."

He smiled at you in a sort of way you couldn't read, wearing his pajamas and hair slightly tussled -your mouth went dry.

"Yeah?"

You willed everything in yourself to say something witty, playful, like normal. But he was still looking at you, focused, and all your brain could think was blue-

"Yeah," you answered quietly.

He hummed a moment, hand coming up to rub at his jaw. Calloused fingers against the most certainly smooth skin, you briefly thought about touching it yourself.

You cleared your throat, "Sorry, so where are th- our kids?"

Rick's eyes smoothed over your face a second before he smiled, shaking his head, and dropped his eyes back to the pan, "Judith's still sleepin', and Carl is at a friend's."

"Which friend?" you asked, instinctively.

"He's fine, baby," he laughed a little like he was testing the word, "-ere's no need to be worried."

Baby rattled around your head for a few seconds, especially coming from that face. The last time he called you that, you were on the verge of a mental breakdown. And come to think of it, with how you were reacting to a shaved face, maybe he was onto something.

"Grimes," you leveled, but there wasn't any bite.

"I'm serious," he added, looking at you (blue, blue) -trying to convey it to you.

You pursed your lips, deadpanning, "You forgot, didn't you?"

"Maybe," he smiled at you, almost fondly, and your knees nearly buckled.

God, you needed to get a hold of yourself.

"I'll figure it out later," you remarked -passively, "-What are you making?"

He seemed to pause, eyes skimming along you like he was suddenly taking you in, before stepping to the side, "Come n' see for yourself."

You had the spare thought that he was doing it on purpose, before swatting it away and gathering by his side. Mindlessly, your brain noted his elbow bumping into you and the swarm of body heat that radiated off of him. You blinked it away.

He had a few things going, typical breakfast stuff, but you did decisively notice what looked to be a single portion of your favorite.

"Is that-"

"For ya? Yeah," he answered, unflinchingly, "-'Figured I could be sweet today."

You quipped back, looking up at him, "What a change of pace, Grimes."

He laughed at that, your eyes smoothed over his smile before dropping back to the food. Your breaths felt a little hollow in your chest for an entirely different reason.

You stood there and helped portion of the food, focused on placing plates out for him to then fill. You could feel his eyes steady on you as you did so, just until he started portioning. You promptly grabbed one of the other foods and portioned it yourself.

As soon as you finished, Rick spoke up.

"Did ya mean it?"

You looked at him, curiously, "What?"

"Our kids," he answered, something flickering behind his eyes, "-Do ya really think of 'em as your own?"

"As long as I'm not... overstepping," you clarified, dropping the pan into the sink, "-yeah, of course, I do."

He smiled a little, the flicker stronger now, "Really?"

"Well, yeah," you laughed, a little uncertain now, "-Should I not?"

"No," he echoed out, something heavy in his tone, "-you should. 'Ey're yours."

"Then, why-"

""S just nice to 'ear," he explained, pulling another one of the pans into the sink -sliding in just beside you.

"Why?" you questioned.

Rick looked at you, eyes flickering along your face, seeming to decide on something, "Can I show ya somethin'?"

You quirked a brow, playfully, "What is this something?"

"A gift," he answered, naturally.

You blinked, a little deliriously, "For me?"

"Yeah," he hummed, taking your wrist in his hand (your brain turned to mush) and guiding you through the house, "-'Course it is."

"Where did you get a gift?"

"On a run," he answered, easily, pulling you into his bedroom before letting go. He wandered over to his closet.

"Why-" you laughed a little, "-Why were you thinking of me on a run?"

Rick didn't hesitate a second, hands skimming over some shelves, "I'm always thinkin' of ya."

Your lips snapped shut, as your eyes just followed him around the room.

Since he was so preoccupied, you let your eyes roam over his jaw, the angular lines of his nose, the curve of his Adam's apple, the slight push of his lips, and the curl that seemed to trail down his forehead. You almost adjusted it yourself, but you fought back the urge.

"'Ere it is," he sighed, relieved, before seeming to gather something up in his arms.

You tried to peek over his shoulder, but he decidedly kept them too raised.

"Ya ready?" He chimed, excitingly.

You quipped, smiling, "I was born ready, Grimes."

Rick laughed at that, and you bit back the grin that threatened to slip across your face. There was something so domestic about all of this, it made your breath rattle in your chest, and your heart skip a beat.

And then, he turned around.

Your breath caught in your throat.

He held in his hands, a brand-new soccer ball, still in the package. Your brain buzzed for a moment, it was so sentimental. It made your head spin, making you a little breathless. A grin grew wide along your face, lips curling up.

"No way," you muttered, leaning forward and skimming your fingers across it, "-that is so sappy, Grimes."

He laughed a little, and your eyes flicked to him where a pink dusted up to the top of his ears. Your smile shone even brighter.

"Figured you could let me and Carl try to gain a little on your record," he smiled.

"What was it again?" you grinned, taking the ball into your hands, "-Four to zero?"

"Six," he corrected, instinctively (like he remembered), "-Six to zero."

Wordlessly, you gently took the box into your hands, his eyes steady on you.

"How long did it take to find this?"

"I was lookin' for the past few runs," he answered -vaguely.

"Looking?" You questioned, "-You plan this out, Rick?"

He hummed, smiling, "Maybe."

You quirked a brow, not quite looking at him, "What's the occasion, Grimes?"

He fell quiet then, and you promptly dropped your smile and looked at him. Eyes skimming along his face, he didn't seem upset. He seemed entirely the opposite, actually.

Blue eyes looking at you like they always did.

"Rick?" You asked, concern smoothing through you, "-Everything alright?"

He smiled a little, shaking his head a little, "God, you're... you're... you're unbelievable."

"Um," you flustered a little, holding the ball tighter to you, "-is that a good or a bad thing?"

"Good," he answered, with probably the biggest grin, "-great, it's a great thin'."

"Yeah? Well," you muttered out, a little frazzled, "-um, thank you."

He laughed a little bit, then but it slowly dissipated into the air. Leaving you and him, and his crazy blue eyes (seriously, how have you never noticed that?).

Rick spoke breathlessly then, rushed as if it was just waiting to come out (like it was building, building, building, until it burst), "I love you."

You dropped the ball (and box) right onto your feet. It stung a little.

"Shit," you hissed, before scrambling, "-Wait, that wasn't to you. I... I just I hit my toes with the box, and it hurt-"

He smiled at you even brighter then, eyes dropping to your feet, "Ya alright?"

"Yeah, what," you cleared your throat, "-I'm fine. I'm just... a little in shock, I guess."

"Yeah?" He asked, something lilting in his tone and you almost felt like he got closer to you.

"Yeah," you breathed out, "-I just... I never could've imagined a man like you, um, loving me."

He was definitely getting closer, blue eyes flickering between the two of yours, "A man like me?"

"It's a good thing," you explained, "-You're just caring, and I love your kids, and-"

His face was breath away from yours. Your lips moved before you could think about it.

"-handsome," you finished a little breathlessly.

He grinned then, crinkling at his eyes, and something there, deep in the blue. You couldn't tell if it was mischievous or loving or maybe even teasing-

"Am I?"

Something in you snapped.

You practically jumped forward, arms wrapping around his neck, and lips pressing to his. Rick laughed into it (which made you laugh a little too), but his hands sank to your waist entirely on instinct.

It was a little desperate, as Rick tilted his head just the right way and seemed to pour everything into his lips. Which were very much already good on their own. It made you dizzy, and you nearly stumbled in your steps, but he held you a little tighter and kept you in place.

Before, pulling you forward even more.

It sent a shock through your spine and made the breath slink out of your lungs.

Speaking of breath-

You pulled back, taking a deep breath in -mind a little hazy, "Jesus Christ."

Rick laughed, but still pressed forward, leaving little kisses on your lips -surface level. Again, and again, and again, and again-

Laughing, you moved your hands to his face, pulling him back, "Rick, you need to breathe, yeah?"

"Not as bad as I need ya," he retorted, before pressing kisses along your jaw.

It made your head spin, and maybe you were a little dizzy but you didn't think it was from the lack of oxygen.

"Rick," you urged, laughing.

He mindlessly moved down to your neck, a little like he couldn't get enough. It zapped through your spine again.

"Rick," you repeated, maybe with a little less laughter, "-c'mon, I have to tell you something."

He groaned, before pulling back to face you, blue eyes focused. Rick looked at your smile, and bit down his own.

You took a breath in, and cradled his face again (his skin was soft), "I love you too."

He grinned big and wide then, something shining in his eyes, "Ya don't know how long I 'ave waited to 'ear 'at."

"How long?"

He answered, with ease, "Since I saw ya givin' Carl your food."

"Rick," you almost soothed, "-that was forever ago. Why didn't you say something?"

"Was never the right time," he hummed, kissing you at the hinge of your jaw, "-I was goin' through somethin' and then ya were."

You hummed a moment, finally pushing back the loose curl.

"And I just-" he exhaled a breath, "-I wanted to make sure ya felt the same. Didn't want the kids to lose ya."

"Even if I didn't love you, Grimes," you soothed, trailing your hands along his jaw, "-They would've never lost me."

He just looked at you then, a little like he couldn't believe you were in front of him. Couldn't believe you were real.

"They're our kids," you offered with a teasing smile, "-are they not?"

"Yeah, 'ey are."

And without another breath, he kissed you so hard that it felt like your breath was knocked out of your lungs. But there was no way in hell that you were stopping.

You'd waited long enough for this.

He grinned against your lips, mindlessly kicking the soccer ball out of the way to get closer to you. Whispers of 'Ours' between every press of lips like he couldn't believe it. Or maybe like it was all he'd ever wanted.

And apparently, he had waited just as long.

[revelboo]

went through all of "everything is alright" and I'm far too attached to it already (and also heartbroken as of the current chapter 💔💔), thank you for the amazing writing and quick updates!!

(also you made me finally purchase some of the blokees I had my eye on🫶)

Thank you for reading my nonsense! The Blokees figures are some of my favorites- I love little figures

Everything is Alright Pt 80

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• “Everything.” One little word that sends cracks running through him, lets the ice seep in. The numb anger. Because he knows the things he’s done to further the Decepticon cause. Some of them of his own volition to enhance his position, others under Megatron’s name. Your eyes looking up at him, hurt and almost pleading with him to deny it. To tell you it’s all a lie, because you don’t want to know the truth of him. That he did the hard things, he did what was necessary. You hadn’t resisted when he’d picked you up. Maybe as broken as he feels. No matter how much he’d wanted to shield you from the reality of this war, to let it be something you don’t need to think too much on, there’s no hiding it anymore.

• “Now you know,” he growls, rasping voice colder than you’ve ever heard it. Wishing he’d denied it even if it was a lie. You’re not a child, it’s not like you don’t understand that they’re at war, but some of those things were just cruel. Violence for the sheer delight of causing pain and you don’t want that to be who he really is. Don’t want to love someone who could do that. Want to pretend that it’s still alright. That it’s just you and him learning each other, growing closer without reality slipping in. Because right now, your heart is breaking.

• Watching you hurts, because Soundwave can feel that despair, that aching sting of grief. And he doesn’t know how to fix this. If it even can be fixed. As Starscream turns to leave with you, he reaches out, catches his arm. “Wait,” he says. Wanting to take you, keep you with him, because right now he doesn’t trust the Seeker’s mindset at all. And Starscream rounds on him, denta bared and a cannon in his face. Realizes that the SIC has nothing left to lose, optics furious with hate. So it’s a surprise when Starscream lowers his arm and walks past. As if he’s not even worth the bother. Taking you away as his spark aches, because this isn’t what he wanted at all.

• It’s oddly freeing realizing it’s all gone, everything taken away from him. You’re still there in his hand, but that trust is broken. And he just wants to scream, to destroy something. Because having you with him and so distant and quiet is worse than just losing you. Wonders if you’ll be able to bear looking at him anymore. If you’ll speak to him or just hide from him. See only a monster. Entering his quarters, he looks down at you, meeting your eyes. Megatron said the words, but this is the culmination of a lifetime of his decisions. “Talk to me, please.” Those soft words make his spark ache. Cut through the indifference he wants to protect himself with. “Star?”

• “Do you want me to deny everything?” He asks. And you really do, but you just shake your head. “I made mistakes. I was cruel and ambitious,” he says slowly, a servo sliding against your hip as he keeps you trapped in his hand, standing in the middle of his habsuite. Like he’s afraid to put you down in case you try to get away. “And I’m not entirely sure I can be anything else at this point.” Jaw working like the admission cost him something, you close your eyes. But… That’s not exactly true is it? He’s been changing, softening every day. Those big hands capable of violence, but never towards you. If he’s been monstrous in his past, that’s not the him you know. Even if those horrors laid out for you can still hurt you, they’re not him anymore. Right? Because you need to believe that or you’ll come apart completely.

• “I want to hear it all from you. The truth, good and bad,” you whisper, a tear sliding down your cheek. Not pushing him away or abandoning him. Not yet and he doesn’t know what to make of you. You already know. Megatron would have told you in grisly detail, so why ask for more pain? Are you trying to understand him? Making an effort to reach out to him still? Servo sliding over your cheek to wipe away the tear, you touch his hand. Remembering your hesitant admission that you liked him what feels like forever ago. He’d never told you how he felt about you in return, though. Not really. Unable to bring himself to admit that he needs you beside him, to make himself vulnerable that way with words. That he can’t sleep without you there, that you’re everything now, his world narrowed down to you, tied to the beat of your heart, to your smiles. It’s why he’d bonded you to him without asking, because he needed you and he was afraid of being denied so he’d taken. Optics shuttering, he sits on the berth with you. And slowly, hesitantly, he begins to speak. To get all the awfulness out.

• It’s funny. Breaking the Seeker’s little pet didn’t give him the satisfaction Megatron expected. Only left him more exhausted than before. Sitting on the edge of his berth, he keeps picturing your eyes leaking. Your pain. And it doesn’t matter. You’re just a human, you’re nothing. But he keeps thinking about it all the same. Telling himself that he doesn’t care. That you’re one more casualty of the war and that those ghosts don’t bother him.

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[halfway-happyyy]

salvation (frank castle x reader)

an: listen here folks, this one's a naughty one, so buckle up.

summary: frank gets back from a month-long absence, and just wants to be close to you.

warnings: mentions of sexual activity, p-in-v, cock warming, some dirty talk, etc.

A subtle electric charge surges in the still bedroom air around you that has nothing to do with the looming storm, and everything to do with Frank's imminent arrival home. In the grand scheme of things, a month is a blip on the radar. But the length of his absence has felt like a lifetime to you, and the urge to feel him palpable and alive beneath your touch causes anticipation to bloom deep in your belly. You will yourself to stay awake for him, but as the evening hour wears on, the rain against the expansive glass windowpane helps to lull you into a peaceful slumber and your eyes close of their own volition.

You wake up a little after midnight to the feeling of Frank's lips on your cheek. Besides the infrequent flashes of lightning that light up the room, it is otherwise utterly dark. His umber hair is wet from the rain, but the heady scent of sweat and saltwater still lingers on him and makes your head spin. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you breathe him in.

“I missed you.”

As Frank nuzzles into you, his stubble tickles the delicate skin of your neck, and you fight the urge to wriggle away from the sensation.

“Missed you more, kid.”

He pulls away from you to rid himself of his clothing, and when he’s fully nude before you, he drops into the plush chair beside the window. In the caliginous light, you catch sight of the fresh cuts and bruises that decorate Frank’s stomach and chest like a warzone.

“I want to feel close to you.” He whispers.

You shuck away the covers and hiss lowly as the cool air comes in contact with your nude body. Sauntering over to where Frank sits, you know exactly what he wants without even asking.

He watches you gaze at the shallow wounds that decorate the expanse of his golden skin and he shakes his head as if telepathy was a skill he’d just recently picked up.

“I’m okay, kid.”

Your eyes travel to his steadily growing erection, and you aren’t sure how you’ll find it in yourself to keep from fucking him.

“Come here, sweetheart. I need this.”

His utterly pleading tone sends a shiver down your spine, and doing as you’re told, you grasp onto his broad shoulders and sink down onto his hard cock. He groans loudly at the sensation of your impossibly warm tightness as his hands find purchase on your hips.

“That’s it.” He gasps. “You don’t know how much I’ve missed this.”

Dragging your bottom lip between your teeth to keep from crying out at his stretch, your head drops to the curve of his shoulder. Peppering a series of sloppy, open-mouth kisses to the slightly salty skin there, you revel in the feeling of his body as it melts beneath your touch.

“Did you think about this when you were away?” You ask, resting your cheek against his.

Frank’s hold on you tightens as he nods against you. “Only every night, sweetheart.”

You shift above him and smile against his cheek as a string of nonsensical curse words exit his mouth.

“You wanted this.” You simper.

Frank nips at the soft skin of your collarbone. “Can you blame me?”

It’s quiet in the room while you focus on his heartbeat against your chest, on the droplets of rain that chase each other in misshapen lines down the windowpane. You focus on the inexplicably full feeling he’s providing you- and how in this moment, you both are an entirely singular entity. You’ll tell him later on that more nights than not, you fell asleep with your vibrator still inside of you, just to replicate the feeling of this very moment. He’ll ask you if it was enough and you’ll shake your head because- what on earth could be better than this?

“No, Frank. I can’t.”

He presses his lips to your temple. “Try and go back to sleep for a little while, hm? I want to live in this for as long as I can.”

His warm hands as they rub circles into the small of your back, and the delicious fullness of his cock deep inside of you helps to lull you back into a shallow sleep.

Frank rouses you a little while later by tracing lazy figure-eights into the back of your shoulder blade. You involuntarily clench around him and a low, desperate moan escapes his slightly parted lips. Every time he returns from a mission, you worry that the light behind his beautiful eyes will have dimmed the slightest bit; but as you gaze at him now, you are happy to report the light that was there a month ago still blazes just as brightly. He traces a warm fingertip down the bridge of your nose, and around the outline of your lips and leans in to kiss your jawline.

Grinding your hips down against him, his fingernails leave miniscule crescent moons in the soft skin of your flesh as he shakes his head, a determined expression on his face.

“Not yet, sweetheart.”

But you’re through with waiting.

Placing both hands firmly on top of his shoulder blades again, you begin to rock against him. If Frank wants to fight it, he is entirely powerless now. The wait has been too long. His head falls back as you continue to writhe in his lap and his hands roam the dips and valleys of your back like he’s known it his whole life. You watch in awe as his lips part and desperate, mewling moans tumble from somewhere at the back of his throat. He is so touch-starved and desperate to feel you that he can hardly form coherent sentences.

“I can stop anytime, Frank.” You murmur, threateningly.

It’s an absolute bluff. You can’t, and you won’t.

He taps your hip twice, his voice low and blown apart with lust. “I want you on the bed.”

Untangling yourselves to make it there is almost impossible, and the aching loss of fullness when you pull yourself from him is almost enough to drive you mad. He doesn’t let you linger there long before he has you on your side, your back pressed into his toned, sweat-damp chest. He fucks you slowly at first; it’s a dizzyingly satisfying push and pull, his cock hitting all the right spots along the way until it reaches the part of you that makes your back arch and your toes curl.

“That’s it sweetheart.” Frank gasps. “Touch yourself for me.”

It’s a demand that you’re only all too happy to comply with, as your legs open and your hand snakes down to the apex of your thighs. His lips never stray far from your neck as he continues to rut into you from behind, his deft hands making quick work of exploring all the parts of your body that yearn for his attention.

“You feel amazing, sweetheart. Always so good for me.”

His words stoke the pleasure smoldering in the pit of your belly and as you continue touching yourself, you approach the precipice of bliss at an alarming pace. He holds you to him as you fall apart, his name a breathless chant on your lips as you tremble against him. Your orgasms have always spurred on his own and this time is no exception. His hips stutter and his cock throbs deep inside of you as he empties everything he has to give with a long, low moan.

He peels away from you after a couple of blissful minutes, and his loss is felt immediately. His breath hitches in his throat as he traces a fingertip through the mess of his come that spills down the back of your velvet-soft thigh and onto the linen sheets below.

“Love seeing you like this, sweetheart. Love watching myself drip out of you.” His words are obscene and intoxicating. They leave tremors of pleasure in their wake, and you turn on your side to view him in the low morning light.

“You’re hurt.”

Frank smiles, and his umber eyes flash almost as brilliantly as the lightning.

“Only a little. But I came back to you. And I’ll be okay.” His fingertips dance down the bridge of your nose, and the outline of your full lips. The delicate creases next to his eyes deepen as his smile grows. “I think I could paint your face with a blindfold on, you know that?”

You are struck then by his effortless beauty, and by the series of words that tumble from his mouth and cause waves of unbridled love to swell in the hollow of your heart.

“A million mornings, Frank.”

He presses a kiss to the palm of your hand. “A million mornings, kid.”