#HEY GUESS WHAT................ I CARE HIM

[reignpage]

Lying To Himself

Content: in which toji is left alone and how he deals with your temporary absence

You have to leave for two weeks, something about a mission in another city. Your boyfriend, Toji, swears it'll be okay, even insists that time will pass by in a blink of an eye. 

“‘m not a fucking child, ma. I’ll be fine. Just take care, yeah?”

And so, you peck him on his lips and wave goodbye before you get in the car. Then you’re disappearing in the distance. Toji shrugs, going back in feeling pretty excited to have the house to himself for two weeks — this has never happened before. As he sits on the couch, bottle of beer in one hand and tv remote on the other, he thinks about all the things he can do now.

The toilet seat can stay up, the bins will be full for longer, same goes for the dirty dishes in the sink, and he can watch whatever he wants; no more of those sappy romcoms with predictable plots and cheesy lines. 

“’s gonna be fun,” he mutters, a growing grin on his face. 

A couple days pass in relative silence, he stays out late, sleeps till noon and eats all the junk you’ve banned from the house. Toji cooks all the steak he wants and leaves the beer bottles to collect dust on the coffee table. And he accepts every invitation from his buddies to go out for drinks, watch basketball at the bar, and plays a couple games too.

He stays up all night, on the evenings he's not getting stupid drunk, playing videogames -- the violent ones you cringe at. During the day, he walks around the place in just his boxers, sometimes not even that, and it's liberating. All a man needs is to be free to be balls naked in their own kitchen.

"You're not missing her at all?" Shiu asks, smoke blowing in his face as they stand in the back alley, leaning against the wall of the bar.

Toji snorts. "What am I? Five years old? I can last a couple weeks without being sappy."

His friend gives him a look, half amused, half disbelieving and a hundred percent smug. None of them miss the death grip he has on his phone, the way his knee is bouncing, and how he isn't even looking at the hot chicks that sway their asses as they walk by.

It’s been great. Really fucking great. 

You haven’t been texting much. Sure, you check in here and there, letting him know you’re alright, you’re safe, and making sure he’s watered your plants. However, there are rarely any opportunities for phone calls longer than five minutes, no FaceTime either, and sometimes he goes to sleep without a ‘goodnight’ from you. 

It’s fine. 

At least, he can sleep at whatever time he wants without you whining about needing cuddles.

More days pass just like that. 

And now he’s rarely leaving the house, finding his drunk friends boring, obnoxiously loud. It’s like he's suddenly realised they’re kinda fucking stupid. He starts to get sick of all the steak and fried chicken and takeaway, and instead he’ll text you for the recipe of your lasagne or that smoothie you make him in the mornings that’s always greener than the last. 

His feet tap on the floor when you don’t reply straight away. And when his phone lights up, he practically dives for it and grips it tight in his palm, screen threatening to crack when it’s not from you. 

“God fucking dammit, Shiu. Don’t fucking talk to me if it’s not important.”

The movies he’s been dying to watch are pretty shit. There’s no depth, no proper pacing, and the dialogue’s cheesy as fuck. Usually, you’d throw popcorn at the screen and complain about all those things, but he finds that he has to mutter them to himself for white noise. Even smirks when he thinks he got it exactly right, guessing what you’d say as if you’re yapping right in his ear. 

“She’d totally find that shit stupid. And that blood looks fake as fuck. What was the fucking budget for this shit?”

Most of the phone calls on his history log are from him, more reds than greens. What the fuck have they got you doing over there anyways? 

When you do reply to his ‘g’night’ and ‘hey, sleep well?’, he’ll have a go at you for taking so damn long. It’s just fucking ridiculous that you’re clearly sleeping well when he has to hit the gym and tire himself out to even get an hour of shut eye nowadays. Sometimes, he can’t even get any and he just paces the length of the living room waiting for a notification from you to pop up. 

“Fucking come on! Y'r phone better be dead or something.”

Toji hates having dinner on the table; the seat opposite him is empty, the placemat bare and he feels a freaky fucking soreness in his chest. When that happens, he never finishes his dinner. Must be a symptom of early heart disease. Gotta talk to the doctors about that. 

Instead, he eats on the sofa or in his car.

Eventually, you find time to speak to him for an hour, recounting all the crazy things you’ve seen and had to do. He doesn’t interrupt, he just grunts here and there, not even really listening but he urges you to keep talking when there’s a pause, like you’re unsure if you’re talking too much. And when you try to turn the conversation on him, asking about his day, he gives one word answers and then throws you another question. 

“Yeah?” He grunts. “What else? Speak up, ma. Wanna hear ya. D’ya go to that shop? Yeah? Y’ buy anything? Send me a picture.”

He gets two nights of decent sleep after that.

But then…

The guys at work know better than to open their fat mouths around him when he turns up with an extra wrinkle and a ticking in his jaw. Toji is somehow even more sadistic and violent and eager for blood. Even finally accepts their invitation to go out for drinks and drowns himself in the extra strong shit. Assuming he just woke up on the wrong side of the bed, they don’t question his sour mood. 

But what they don’t know is that you texted, just a day before you’re set to come back, to let him know you’re staying another week. 

Fucking texted. 

Didn’t even get to hear it from your own voice. 

He buries himself in more work and stays at the gym for even longer, pushing his body so far, his mind quiets down and he don’t gotta think about the fact that he’s started sleeping on your side of the bed, that the house is losing your scent, and that divot on the couch where you always sat has flattened out. 

Everyone knows he’s losing his mind. They can tell by the dark circles under his eyes and the fact that he’s started snapping at women who are either flirting or just doing their jobs. And sometimes they even have to block his view of couples practising PDA. That’s the closest to hell they ever want to get around Toji. Suddenly, everyone’s hoping you throw the guy a bone and send a nude or something. Literally anything to rein him back in.

The day comes, though, when you’re finally returning home. 

“Y’ sure? Not gonna flake again? Be fucking sure, ma. Alright, get back safe.”

Toji throws all the rubbish out, washes the dishes and dries them, double checks that the toilet seat is down, and he’s followed your recipe for beef stew to the letter — it’s cooking in the oven, and it looks fucking great. Even exfoliated in the shower like you’ve been asking him to, almost took off an entire layer of skin. He doesn’t want to admit he feels pretty fucking fresh. 

The door handle rattles. 

He sits up. And then stands. Walks over to the front door, arms crossing and then uncrossing. 

You’re here. 

“Hey, Toji—“

Your greeting is smothered in his chest as he threatens to suffocate you with the hardest bear hug in the whole world. And though he’d never hurt you, if you weren’t a sorcerer, you’d have been in big trouble. 

“Y’ hungry? Or y’ wanna shower first?”

His hands are all over you, lifting your chin to search your face for any scratches, even squishes your cheeks to be sure, and he’s patting you down for bruises or just to make sure all your limbs are intact. There’s a frown on his lips and it’s pretty darn cute. 

“Aw, Toji, baby. Did you miss me?”

“No.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re not a child, blah blah blah.”

Walking past him to take your shoes off, hang your coat and roll your suitcase to the side, you’re inhaling the air and moaning about the delicious food in the oven. Oh, God. You’ve been craving homemade food for so long now. You might actually die if you don’t eat. 

“Come here.” Your eyes dart to him, still standing by the doorway, fists clenching and unclenching. Toji looks furious. You look closer. No, he looks…embarrassed? “Said come here, ma.”

“Why?” You ask, head titling in curiosity and slight suspicion. 

He grunts. “What? I gotta spell it out for ya?”

Laughing, you tap your foot on the ground and retort back, “Yeah, you might because you need to have a good reason from keeping me from both a good shower and a warm meal.”

Toji rolls his eyes and stalks over to you, yanking you back to his chest so he can wrap his arms around you and keep you still. It’s much softer than before, but you feel the same sense of passion, something that verges on desperation.

It’s almost like…

No. 

It can’t be. 

Oh, but when you feel his face bury itself in your neck and you hear that long inhale, followed by a deep groan vibrating through his chest, you’re absolutely sure. 

Toji missed you. 

An overwhelming feeling of love fills you, so does a sense of victory, and you just hug him back, inhaling deeply too. He smells like home, like reluctant cuddles, pats on the ass, and early morning sex. You thought you’d have the most trouble in the two weeks, which turned into three, but as it turns out, he didn’t fare much better. 

Though he’d never admit it with his own mouth, his body betrays him.

Toji doesn’t let you get very far without a hand on you somehow, whether that’s a hand on your thigh as you eat dinner side by side, instead of across from each other, or you sitting on his lap as you watch the movie you want to watch. He even waits on the toilet lid as you shower, though that only lasts a couple minutes before he’s stripping and joining you. 

“Y’r not washing y’r hair right,” he tuts. 

Getting into bed is even worse because he’s practically lying on top of you the whole night, still sniffing your neck, and with his hands exploring your body. Not really in a sexual way, which is odd for him, but as if he just wants to feel you. He wants to feel your warmth, your softness, and reassure himself you’re home. 

Soon, he’s out cold and you mumble a goodnight against his forehead.

He wakes up feeling completely refreshed, like a newborn, stretching and grinning about getting ready with the day, and frowns when you’re still fast asleep. Part of him wants to make sure you’re getting your rest, but that part doesn’t win for very long and the much bigger part is shaking you awake.

“Come on, ma. Fucking bored here. Wake up, yeah? Let’s get some breakfast. Wanna talk to ya.” 

And when you do wake up, grumbling at how loud he’s being, he ignores the glares you’re giving and the swatting of his hands. Toji gives you a rare, wide, toothy smile and he says, 

“There’s my gorgeous girl. Good morning, baby.”

Yeah, this man totally missed you. 

[ivyues]

Dreaming of Peaches - Bang Chan

Bang Chan has a dream of little curls and your eyes.

It had been a strange day. Chris had been acting a bit off, nothing too alarming, but enough for you to notice. He was quieter than usual, his touches lingering just a bit longer, as though he was lost in thought every time he looked at you. It wasn’t unusual for him to have moments of introspection, but today felt... different.

Later that evening, as you were settled in your bed, you felt his arms snake around your waist from behind. He pulled you close, his chin resting on your shoulder. His hand, warm and steady, came to rest on your stomach. It was comforting, and yet, there was a nervous energy about him.

“Chris,” you murmured, placing your hand over his. “Are you okay? You’ve been... distant today.”

There was a pause. You felt him shift slightly, his hand retreating as if it had been caught somewhere it wasn’t meant to be. That small movement made you turn around to face him. His eyes flicked away, uncharacteristically avoiding yours. That alone was enough to make you tilt your head in confusion.

“Hey,” you said softly, taking his hand in yours. “What’s going on? You know you can tell me anything if you want.”

His lips parted, but no words came out at first. He looked almost embarrassed, his ears tinged pink, and he ran a hand through his hair before meeting your gaze. “I... I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable,” he began, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s... kind of silly, really.”

Your reassuring look must have encouraged him, because he sighed and began to ramble. “I had this dream last night. You were pregnant... and we had a little girl. She was running around, and she had my stupid curly hair and your eyes. And – I don’t know – it felt so real. When I woke up, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I don’t want you to feel pressured, or like I’m... pushing something on you, or that—”

“Chris,” you interrupted gently, squeezing his hand. He stopped mid-sentence, looking at you with wide, almost vulnerable eyes. “I don’t know what the future holds for us,” you admitted, your voice steady. “But if it’s with you, I’m not scared.”

There was a beat of silence before a smile broke across his face, soft and boyish. “She had your eyes,” he repeated, a hint of awe in his voice. “And the curliest little head of hair, just like mine. And—” He chuckled, his voice warming with amusement. “you had this little baby bump. Like, the cutest little bump I’ve ever seen.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, feeling the tension dissolve into something tender and warm. “The bump, huh? That’s what stood out to you?”

Chris’ ears turned a shade pinker as he grinned sheepishly. “I mean, yeah. You were glowing, and you kept resting your hands on it like it was the most precious thing in the world. I guess it just stuck with me.”

You looked at him thoughtfully, gently brushing a strand of his hair away. “Dreams can be silly, but can also hold wants of the heart. If ours don’t align, we should always be honest with each other. No matter what.”

Chris’s smile widened, and he leaned in to kiss your forehead. “You’re right. And hey, don’t worry, I’ve already got seven kids to take care of,” he said with a mischievous grin.

You laughed then raised an eyebrow, a thought hitting you. “By the way… what did we name the child?”

Chris paused for a moment, then let out a dramatic sigh. “I think we called her … Peaches,” he said, grinning like he had just solved the biggest mystery of the century.

You blinked at him, unable to hold back your laughter. “Peaches? Really?”

“Hey, it was your idea,” he teased, winking.

You gasped, still laughing, and held up your hands in protest. "Nonono, we are not naming our kid something like that," you said, eyes wide with disbelief.

Chris chuckled, the mischievous glint in his eyes never fading as you protested. But before you could argue further, he leaned in, silencing you with a gentle kiss. His lips were soft, a mix of affection and amusement, and the warmth of his touch sent a ripple of calm through you.

Shaking his head he mouthed the words "our kid" – almost as if he was testing the idea out in his own mind, as if it was too surreal for him to say aloud.

[noosayog]

[3:47 pm] ft miya osamu

wc: 700

--

When you slam open Atsumu’s bedroom door and plop yourself onto the carpet next to him, he barely looks up from his phone. 

“Ever heard of knocking?”

You lay belly down on the floor and scream into the worn fuzz of the carpet. 

“Gross. You know our bare, unwashed feet walk on this floor right?” 

He offers you a pillow and you take it, squishing it between the floor and your face. Atsumu waits for your breath to run out. 

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Atsumuuuuu…” you bemoan. “I’m going through a crisis.” 

He says nothing, continuing to scroll on his phone but you can tell you’ve garnered some of his interest. 

“I have a secret. Like one that I can’t tell anyone.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s so shameful. I’ve been keeping it to myself for, like, ever.”

“Yeah, I bet I couldn’t guess what it is.” The sarcasm is completely lost on you. 

“Yeah. You’d make fun of me. It’d be material for you to tease me for a lifetime,” you pause, take a deep breath. “I-

“-have a big fat crush on my brother?” 

You gape. “What?” 

He looks up from his phone. He blink at you, like you’re any simpleton. “You,” he says slowly, punctuating each word, ”have a big, fat, embarrassing, crutching, debilitating crush on my brother.” 

“I didn’t even realize you knew so many big words-”

“What?” 

The two of you freeze up. 

“‘Samu!” Atsumu exclaims. “Thought you weren’t gonna be back until later tonight.”

“I wasn’t.”

He gives no other explanation. You stay still, hoping that if you don’t move or breathe, he won’t notice you. The silence stretches.

“Ohhh.. kay. Well, I better go. You kids-”

You jolt awake at that, in disbelief that Atsumu would flee alone after what he’s done.

“I’ll go with!” You turn and run, making monumental efforts to avoid a dark eyes trained on you. 

You’re about to squeeze past when a hand slams against the doorframe, arm now blocking off your exit. Osamu stares hard at you while your gaze stays glued to the exit beyond, though it’s more like you’re staring at his bicep which is now stationed at your eye level. 

“I’m just gonna go…” you hear Atsumu mumble, ducking under Osamu’s arm barrier, stealing your escape route. 

“Jackass-” you mumble.

“Hey.” 

The low voice comes from right above your head.

“Osamu,” you greet, still staring at his arm. “I gotta go. I have plans-”

A finger comes up to lift your jaw. It’s careful, but still forceful. When your eyes finally meet his, the one finger turns into two which grip your chin in place. 

“Was what Atsumu said true?” 

It takes a lot for you to hold back a stutter. “Sounds like you heard him loud and clear to me,” you say, ready to slap his hand away. 

“I did.”

“Then why are you still asking-” 

“If it’s true,” he leans down, talking slowly. It makes you start to hyperventilate. You need a paper bag or something. “I don’t wanna hear it from my stupid brother.” 

His eyes are mesmerizing, captivating. Not even the many, many years of knowing him dulls the effect of his straightforward gaze on you. You think you hear someone concede, “it’s true.” 

“What’s true?” he whispers. He’s so close you feel his words ghost your mouth.

Autopilot talks. “That I have a big fat crush on you.” 

He eats up the next millimeter of space. 

“Yeah?” he murmurs against your lips.

Suddenly, his neck is caged inside of your arms and you’re licking up his familiar minty breath and surely this all isn’t your doing because your brain is still catching up. 

His smile widens against your lips and you can feel the smugness radiate off him. 

“Maybe I shouldn’t have interrupted, then.” 

That clears the fog. You shove his shoulders away and try to ignore the fact that he doesn’t go very far.

“Why?” you demand. 

He kisses you again. “‘Cause my brother’s got a big mouth.” 

You tilt your head in confusion. Osamu takes it as an invitation to slot his face better against yours. 

His kiss almost makes you forget your train of thought, but that’s okay because he answers your question anyway. 

“And he probably would’ve blabbed that I have a big fat crush on you too.”

[tartagliove]

IN GOOD COMPANY kinich x reader ✧ 1.1k words

"when there's no saurians to hunt, i take on other jobs too. i guess that means we're in the same line of work."

tags ✧ fluff, no pronouns used for reader, clumsy reader, reader and kinich are childhood friends but have feelings for each other.

note ✧ dedicated to @hanaeriin, from your @pixelcafe-network secret santa! i hope you're doing well and are taking care of yourself! i decided to not go down the wintery route for this since i know you don’t celebrate the holidays—hopefully you'll like this little kinich fic ahhh

a huge thank you to @fandomsuggestions for betaing this!

Three sheets of paper hang limply from the commission board. They flutter weakly as a hot breeze blows, which offers little relief from the scorching summer sun and the stifling humidity. You wish you were relaxing at home or cooling off in the river far below the tribe, but you have expenses that need to be paid, so you’re scanning the few available commissions and debating on which one you want to take.

Two of the commissions are straightforward and easy—a package delivery and hilichurl camp clearing—but the reward offered is nowhere near enough to cover your monthly expenses. You look at the third paper, skimming the wall of text that details a long and arduous commission. However, it also displays a reward of Mora with enough zeroes to make your eyes widen. That money would last you through most of next month as well.

It appears as though you will have a lot of traveling and fighting ahead of you. You normally are excited for a commission like this, but in the summer heat? Sighing, you reach for the commission.

A flash of green darts across your vision, snatching the sheet of paper out from beneath your fingers.

You whirl around. “Hey! Give that back, I was– Ajaw. Of course it’s you.”

“That’s Almighty Dragonlord K’uhul Ajaw to you, puny human! How many times–”

Tuning out the floating dragon’s usual rant, you look beyond him at the approaching Saurian hunter. A smile lights up your face. “Kinich!”

The bright sun makes the blue and green shine to his hair more obvious. His gorgeous eyes seem to glow from within as they look from his companion to you. “Morning,” he says, nodding at you in greeting.

You try to ignore the way a shiver runs through you at the sight. “It’s good to see you! Are you looking for a commission to take on, too?” you ask him, pointing toward the commission board that now bears two lonely pieces of paper. “The options aren’t very good.”

“Except for this one!” Ajaw flies between you two, waving the commission you were looking at in front of Kinich’s face. “It’s perfect—days of scaling the sides of mountains, fighting some dangerous creatures, not to mention, I can feel a storm brewing!”

You frown at Ajaw, knowing full well why the dangers of the commission delights him.

Kinich, however, swats the Saurian away with the back of his hand. “Were you planning on taking this?” he asks you.

You nod slowly, but then wave your hands in front of you. “You can take it if you want though! There are two more on the board, I can do those without a problem!” But even the combined pay of those commissions won’t be enough. You wince at the thought.

Kinich catches the expression that flashes across your face. “What is it?”

You hesitate for a moment, but under his steady gaze, give in and confess, “Those commissions don’t offer enough of a reward to cover what I need—even if I take both.”

There is no judgement on his face as he listens, only understanding. He nods when you finish talking, then says Ajaw’s name.

The Saurian darts over, still holding the commission. “You’re gonna pick this one, right? That puny human can’t handle this anyway–“

“Shut up,” Kinich growls, the harshest you’ve heard him in a while. He yanks the paper out of Ajaw’s grasp, then grabs the dragon and chucks him into the sky, where he vanishes with a furious yell.

With Ajaw temporarily gone, Kinich’s face relaxes as he turns his attention back to you. “Here,” he says, handing you the commission. “You had it first, you take it. I know you have the skills to see it through to the end.”

His vote of confidence warms you from within, washing away any sting Ajaw’s words had evoked. “Thank you, Kinich.” You accept the paper from him with a soft smile. “I hope you’ll find something good to take on yourself.”

He nods, strands of hair shifting from the movement. “Don’t worry about me. Focus on your commission.”

“Yes, sir!” you respond with a giggle. “Well then, I need to get ready for the job. When I’m back, we should catch up sometime! It’s been a while since we’ve hung out. I missed it- missed you,” you add on, a bit shy at the admission.

“That would be nice,” Kinich says. By his tone, you can tell he is sincere, so you can’t stop the grin from growing across your face.

“Alright then, I’ll see you around! Bye, Kinich!”

You turn and walk away, leaving the Saurian hunter to peruse the remaining two commissions on the board. Glancing down at the paper in your hand, you read it over once more to take in the details. When you get to the final line, you stop in your tracks.

The smallest string of words say, “Two or more adventurers recommended for this commission.”

Your lips part. What if- There’s no way. It wouldn’t hurt to ask, right?

“Kinich!” You shout his name as loudly as you can, running back toward the commission board. When you’ve almost reached him, you step on the back of your own sandal and trip, a noise of alarm escaping your mouth. Bracing for the impact of the ground, you are instead caught by warm hands and a steady frame.

You blink in surprise at Kinich, who keeps his grip on your upper arm and lower back until you regain your balance—and even then his touch lingers for a moment before he pulls away.

His eyes seem to pierce through you as you look at him and breathlessly ask, “Would, um, would you like to go on this commission with me?”

You hold out the paper, finger trailing along the final sentence.

Kinich huffs out a wry laugh. “Of course Ajaw didn’t mention that detail. Are you sure you want a partner for this? I know you could complete it alone.”

Swallowing, you manage to ask, “And what if I don’t want to do it alone?”

A soft look appears on his face. “Then you have someone willing to do it with you.”

You laugh in delight, and can’t help bouncing on the balls of your feet. “Alright then! I’ll be in good company.”

“And so will I.”

[suzukiblu]

Day twenty-six of “Kon meets pink kryptonite and decides to fuck Tim and his boyfriend about it” behind the cut. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Hey there, babe,” Bernard says, and Kon feels him flash Tim an easy grin as he rubs his fingertips up the back of his neck in little strokes. “Color?” 

“Green,” Tim says, simple and matter-of-fact, and Kon apparently actually still had some brain left to wreck because hearing Tim’s voice again and hearing Tim’s voice say “green” just reduced it all to bubbling glop.

“Nice,” Bernard says, then adds conversationally: “Your boy was really good, just stayed cuddled up to me all cute the whole time and got real excited for playtime. He definitely missed you, though. Pined a little bit at the window and all, you know how pets get.” 

“Tim,” Kon says without making any real conscious decision to, and it comes out fucking breathy. Tim drops a kiss in behind his ear; squeezes his and Bernard’s linked hands once more before dropping his hand down to his thigh and stroking down to hook underneath it. Kon makes some kind of a noise, he thinks, but can’t hear it over his own thrumming heartbeat. “Tim, I–Rob, can I–” 

“Stay, pet,” Tim murmurs, steadier than any other voice he knows, and everything in Kon’s head that isn’t about him instantly dissolves into nothing. It’s–nothing. It’s all nothing. There’s nothing else there at all. 

“Seriously, you two are way too good at that,” Bernard says, which Kon’s pretty sure he only actually hears because Bernard is Tim-adjacent enough to count as a thing that’ll stay in his head right now. Tim kisses his pulse; squeezes the underside of his thigh. 

“Practice makes perfect,” Tim murmurs, and Kon’s whole brain evaporates and takes everything that isn’t floaty melty-soft rightness with it. They’ve never–they’ve never done this before. 

They’ve done this too many fucking times to even count. 

“Clearly, yeah,” Bernard says with a breathless laugh, and Tim’s fingertips brush in along Kon’s rim and up against where it’s stretched around Bernard’s cock. Kon feels too blissed-out to even react for the contact, but it feels good. Not quite as good as the cock inside him and arms around him, maybe, but still really, really good. 

It’s Tim, so obviously it does. 

“You did a good job,” Tim observes musingly, rubbing just one finger in along the seam right where they’re joined. Kon moans this time, though it’s so quiet he barely even hears it himself, and Bernard buries a rough huff in against his hair. “He’s a lot more relaxed.” 

“Feels like it, yeah,” Bernard says, still a little breathless as he presses a kiss in against Kon’s temple and squeezes his arms around him a little tighter. “Like I’ve got an entire friggin’ punching bag sitting on my dick, except sexy. Dunno how that works but I’m into it, not gonna lie.” 

“Not really surprised to hear that, considering,” Tim says, and then very gently slides a fingertip up into Kon’s body beside Bernard’s dick, easy as anything. Kon is definitely not the only one who hears himself moan this time. “Mm. He took that really well, didn’t he.” 

“Jesus, Tim,” Bernard says, his voice a little strangled. “Did you not just color over this idea?” 

“If I hadn’t taken a minute, I wasn’t going to be able to do it as well as my boy deserves,” Tim replies. Kon feels . . . blurry, a little, and isn’t sure what they’re talking about. But then Tim just gently works another finger up inside him and Bernard makes a tight little noise against his temple and he buries another moan in the other’s shoulder and decides he doesn’t really care anyway. It’s fine. Tim’ll tell him if there’s anything he needs to do. Or . . . know, he guesses. 

“Oh, but I’m supposed to last for this?” Bernard says, and it comes out borderline a wheeze. 

“You’ve got better stamina than me on a normal day, babe,” Tim replies, sounding amused, and Kon feels him take a moment to give Bernard an affectionate little smile that he really wishes he could actually see. 

It’s not . . . it’s not like it’s for him anyway, but . . . 

“Now he tries to win me over with flattery,” Bernard grumbles, then laughs even more breathlessly than the last time and curls his fingers against the back of Kon’s neck and around his fingers. “I’m getting Batted right now, aren’t I.” 

“You’re getting Timmed, babe,” Tim hums, leaning up over Kon’s back to press a kiss to Bernard’s mouth. Kon can feel that too, and it’s a soft and familiar and lingering thing, and they both clearly know how to expect the other to kiss; clearly’ve done it–clearly’ve done it–

Too many fucking times to even count, Kon thinks. 

His gut sort of–tightens, a little, something weirdly longing twisting up inside it, and he wants . . . he thinks he wants . . . 

He really wants kissed right now, he thinks, and buries his face in even tighter against Bernard’s shoulder. 

They’re being really nice to him. He doesn’t need to be–greedy, or whatever.

[strangemaleswaps]

Strange Christmas Family Swap 2

Last Christmas I gave you my heart….or my body more like. A year ago on Christmas day, my family woke up to find we had all swapped bodies with each other. My sister Em with my mom, my brother Calvin and sibling Sam, and worst of all - me with my grandpa Boris.

It all happened because of a magical Christmas knickknack that broke when my grandpa dropped it. We were all stuck in the wrong bodies permanently. Calvin and Sam adapted the easiest, being similar ages and looks, though with completely different styles. Calvin went back to college in Sam's body, and somehow managed to convince everyone that all he did was shave his beard and lose weight. He did gain a good amount back, much to Sam's horror. Sam immediately shaved the beard off once they found out this was permanent, and got their ears repierced. Surprisingly, they didn't seem too preoccupied with losing weight, and seemed to embrace being chubby. They did start to shave all the chest hair off though.

Em reapplied to the same college she went to, under my mom's name, and actually got in. I guess she didn't mind how much older she was, and what people would think of her. Me on the other hand…well let's just say it'd be so embarrassing being a fat old guy in college. Not to mention how hard it would be walking to each class lugging around a huge belly. My joints were so tight as well.

I started living in his house, and surprisingly he actually let me, probably because he knew that if he tried to fight back, the neighbors would take my side because they wouldn't recognize him. I knew he got an apartment somewhere, but other than that, I didn't know anything about where he lived or what he'd been doing. God I hope he was at least taking care of my body…but I guess that didn't matter now that I was permanently stuck like this.

This year I was the one hosting, since my grandpa's house was much nicer than my mom's. Of course he never wanted anybody there before but now that it was mine, I was happy to have everyone over. My mom came over early to help cook the food since I would probably ruin the dinner otherwise.

“Ferris, this place is a mess! Do you ever clean up around here?”

“Sorry.” It was still weird seeing someone that looked like Em, but knowing it was my mom behind her eyes. Being so close to the real Em made it hard to take her seriously sometimes when mom scolded me. It probably felt weird for her too. I was in the body of her dad!

“And are these ramen wrappers on the floor? I guess you do live like a college student afterall.”

“Yeah. At least the place doesn’t smell like cigarette smoke anymore.” My grandpa was an avid smoker, and when I swapped, I quickly began craving cigarettes. I gave in eventually, but managed to quit a few months ago. I guess since the body was the smoker but the mind wasn't, it was a little bit easier to quit.

A while later I got a text. I unlocked my phone to see it was from Em. My heart sank when I read the message.

“Hey Ferris, I'm gonna be bringing my new boyfriend if that's ok?”

I showed my mom the text and she copied my worried look.

“New boyfriend? Did she mention him before? I think it might be too soon to invite him to Christmas.”

“I think she kinda already decided before she even asked. I think it'll be fine. I mean we've been like this for a year so it can't be that hard.”

“If you say so. We could just pretend to be each other.” I'd mostly started a new life and identity in the past year, but there still were some times I had to pretend to be my grandpa, like with his neighbors. It wasn't that hard, and I guess I could always pretend I was going senile or something if it comes to it.

Sam and Calvin soon showed up and we were waiting on Em and her boyfriend. When we got the text that they were on their way, my mom began cleaning up a bit around the kitchen area.

“Ferris, go tuck in your shirt.”

“But mom, I hate doing that. It…makes my gut hang out.”

“I know, I know. But just do it because it'll look nicer. It's not every Christmas we spend with someone we don't know. You want to make a good impression.”

“Ugh fine.” She was right though, we did want to make a good impression, even if our family was definitely weirder than you'd think. I headed to the bathroom to straighten up. When I looked into the mirror, it reflected a face that I now recognized as my own. It felt weird to think I used to hate seeing it, both on me, and on my grandpa, back when it was his. I wanted to grow a beard to cover the double chin and wrinkles, only to find out I really couldn't - it just awkwardly grew in patches. So I settled on clean shaven. I was an old man; it's not like I needed to impress anybody with my looks anyway.

I grazed my hands through my hair, or what was left of my hair anyway, and combed it back a bit. I then pushed in my gut with one hand in order to unbuckle my pants. With the way my gut just hung down, I'd gotten used to wearing long shirts that covered it up entirely. Tucking in my shirt highlighted it, but I really had to now so I took it, tucked it into my pants, and buckled them back up. I hated the way it looked, my belly seemed even more round and obvious. At least my belly was tucked into my pants instead of it hanging out.

I walked into the living room to find that Em and her boyfriend had already arrived. He was a regular college aged guy; must've had a thing for older women, or at least physically older women. He walked up to me to shake my hand. Definitely not something I was used to, having someone around my real age act so formal.

“Ah you must be Grandpa Boris right? Nice to meet you. I'm Aaron.”

“Er yeah nice to meet you too.”

“Em told me all about you guys. You seem like a fun bunch! Someone's missing though.” We all went a bit silent for a moment, but I needed to ease the awkwardness so I kinda spat out my thoughts.

“Oh uh yeah Ferris. My…grandson. Hes uh not coming.”

“Aw why not? Em said he was her favorite brother.”

“Uhh rude!” teased Calvin. Em spoke up to finish the answer.

“He's got his own things going on.”

“Ah shame. I'd love to meet hi-” Just then the door suddenly swung open, and standing in the doorway was none other than my grandpa - and boy, had he changed. I barely even recognized my old body! The signature slim muscle and abs I had were replaced with a chubby stomach contained by a blue shirt. How did he even get that big in just a year? What had he been eating?

“What's everyone looking at me for? It's Christmas! Show a little cheer for god’s sake!” he shouted. I can't believe he did this to me! At least he kinda got what he deserved. He was super proud of his hot body but it looks like he just couldn't keep up with the work needed to maintain it.

“Hey, I'm Aaron, Em's boyfriend. It's nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Nice to meet you.” He replied hastily. My mom suddenly interrupted.

“Well uh. The food is ready now everyone so feel free to grab a plate!” My grandpa rushed to the kitchen to get his before anyone else. He stacked a huge amount of food on his plate. I never realized how much of an appetite I had in my old body. Maybe that's why he gained weight so fast.

When he sat down, I noticed he reeked of cigarette smoke. I was so angry I wanted to tell him off right there and then, but I held it in because I didn't want to upset Em. So I kept quiet throughout dinner until Aaron tried to make conversation.

“So Grandpa Boris, how are you doing? I'm sure having a nice family like this must be wonderful.”

“Uh yeah, it's-”

“He doesn't know shit about having a nice family,” interrupted grandpa. I had enough.

“You know, if you want a nice family, you kinda have to BE nice first!” I shouted. Everyone went silent until he fought back.

“I AM being nice! I came here for dinner after all!”

“Yeah, only to stuff your fat face and get presents!” He looked as though he was defeated for a moment, but then started up again.

“Hey, it's not my fault you got a SHIT METABOLISM!"

“I worked out everyday to get that fit. What's your excuse?” Aaron whispered to Em, in between yelling.

“What are they talking about?”

“It's uh complicated.”

“Well uh I do have a present for you Em,” said Aaron, trying to ease the mood back into cheerfulness. At the word “present,” my grandpa suddenly turned his attention toward Aaron. Em opened the gift to find a little knickknack of an elf wearing a purple outfit. Definitely a weird color for a Christmas thing. It reminded me of the knickknack from last year.

“Well where's my present now?”

“Oh uh sorry Ferris! I only got one for Em.”

“Dad, you're not getting a single present this year!” my mom shouted.“

‘Dad?’ What is she talking about?” Aaron was confused now.

“Go to hell all of you!” Suddenly he grabbed Em's present and unlike last year, smashed it- on purpose.

“Grandpa, what the hell!” Em shouted. Aaron looked shocked.“Why are you calling him grandpa? I'm really confused now.”

“It's um…” started Em. “We uh swapped bodies last Christmas.”

“WHAT?” The next couple minutes we spent reintroducing ourselves.

“Oh shit. So you're your own mom? That's freaky. Very freaky.”

“So wait, the real Ferris is Grandpa Boris? Oh man that's gotta suck.”

“And I was super skinny before he trashed my body,” I replied.

“Well anyway. We should clean this mess up,” started Em. “I don't know why we-” Suddenly it felt like pressure was building up inside my head and I noticed everyone else except Aaron got wide eyed.

“Uhh are you all ok?” The pressure feeling built up until it suddenly exploded and felt like I was flying across the room. My sight went dark for a few seconds until it all stopped. When I opened my eyes I was sitting at the other side of the table, looking at myself.

“What happened?” asked Calvin. “Oh shit a beard!” He grazed his hands over his beard. “Not again!”

It was then that we all realized what had happened. We were all back in our own bodies! Except…I was fat. I looked down at my hands to see a familiar freckle to confirm that I was back in my own body.

“Well this is awkward,” said Sam. “We spend the last year building new identities only for everything to go back to normal. That knickknack really returned to us again!”

“Hey at least we look like ourselves again! Well…poor Ferris.” I felt like I was about to cry. I began heading towards the bathroom to see the damage my grandpa had really done. I looked in the mirror and the sense of security I felt when I saw my own face was quickly shattered when I saw how chubby my cheeks were, as well as the double chin I didn't have before. I took my shirt off to find that my abs were completely gone, replaced with a flabby belly that hung over my belt. I had a pair of jiggly man tits as well.

I was used to being fat, but at least when I was in my grandpa's body, I didn't feel as insecure because most old guys are fat anyway. But now? I was just a young guy who really let himself go.

Suddenly I heard a door slam, so I put my clothes back on to see what happened. My grandpa was gone.“Yeah, he's never coming over here again,” said my mom.

“He's just…”

“Too much?” I replied.

“Yep.”

“Well, no need to be so down in the dumps everyone!” started Aaron. “It's still Christmas! Even better, the whole new year new you thing will be pretty literal with all of you.”

“Again,” replied Sam with a laugh.

“Merry Christmas!”

[janahanooo]

MERRY CHRISTMAS GUYS!!!!! As promised, here is the follow up

And uh, no I didn't forget to post this.... okay maybe

Ace: c'monnnn Yuu! Tell me what you got for me!!

Yuu: no, you have to wait for the evening! And also you promised that you and Deuce will be able to come to the Christmas dinner at Ramshackle

Ace: Yes-yes, we are coming, it was suprisingly easy to convince the dormhead too

Yuu: huh?

Ace: it's nothing, now let's hurry!

Yuu: thank you everyone for coming to this dinner, this means a lot to us

Grim: I care more for the food, but yeah-yeah... it's nice to have you guys here.... i guess

Ace: heh, what was that Grim? Are you embarrassed?

Grim: M-MYAH?!?! NO?! THE GREAT GRIM COULD NEVER-!

Yuu: okay! So, lets eat and then we can give each others the presents!

Epel: I'm curious what you got for the others, can you tell me?

Yuu: no, sorry. I know you would tell them.

Deuce: it was worth a shot

Sebek: Huma- khm. Yuu, this was delicious

Jack: do you mind if I bring some with me after this? Ruggie senpai would def chew my ears off if he heard how good the food was here.

Yuu: sure!

Grim: hench-human!! The presents!

Yuu: alright, alright. You can open your presents.

Grim: !!

Grim: a- a whole box of tuna cans!? M-mhay?! All for me?!

Yuu: yep, all of it is yours

Jack: it's a new pair of running shoes...

Yuu: khm...

Jack: it's a plant pot... i love it!

Epel: ugh, this sweater really is ugly

Epel: I love it!

Sebek: *sniffle* thank you *holds a malleus plushie that has a voice recorder saying, "I appreciate you Sebek" and "My dear knight in shining armor"*

Yuu: you have no idea how hard it was to get to him on day light, so I had him say this on one of our late night walks

Deuce: that's so nice of you Yuu.

Yuu: yeah-yeah, now, open yours!

Deuce: ...a key? Prefect, you did not...

Yuu: come on, it wasn't my wallet. It was Crowley's. So use it with good health

Ace: now I'm really excited to know what you got me

Yuu: go for it

Ace: *opens the present*

Ace:

Ace: are you for real?

Ace: prefect. How much did you spend on us??? *recieved tickets to his favourite basketball teams all year matches*

Yuu: again, it was mostly out of Crowley's wallet

The first years: *looking at eachother and then nodding*

Epel: then, we would like you to have this

Jack: it's not much, but we hope you'll like it

Yuu: huh?

Yuu: *opens the present, and it's framed pictures of all of them, making it look like they are a family*

Yuu: I- I don't even- how- why? This is so nice, you guys-

Yuu: *starts crying*

The first years: !!

Ace: oh come on, hey! It- it's not that bad!

Deuce: dude! Don't make it worse! *punches Ace* Yuu, do you not like it?

Yuu: *sniffle* no, I love it. Thank you guys, I have the best family in the whole world...

[30somethingautisticteacher]

Christmas Reconciliation

In case anyone was wondering how Buck and Tommy's Christmas is going today 😆🥰

****

The warm glow of Christmas morning filled Maddie and Chim's living room. Buck sank into the couch, surrounded by the aftermath of gift-opening chaos, crumpled wrapping paper littering the floor

Jee Yun sat cross-legged on the floor, completely absorbed in her new toys.

"Hey, little brother. You doing ok?" Maddie asked, her voice soft with sisterly concern.

"Oh uh yeah. It's Christmas. Why wouldn't I be?" Buck responded, his smile not quite reaching his eyes.

"Buck," Maddie said in a warning tone. "You're staring at that phone awfully hard. What's up?"

"Connor sent me a Christmas text with a picture of him, Kameron, and Simon," Buck said, holding out his phone and showing the image to Maddie.

"Wow, he really does look a lot like you," Maddie observed, taking in the details of the photograph.

"Yeah, he does," Buck agreed. His voice softened, tinged with a deep, aching sadness. "I guess I'm just feeling jealous. I want that. I want to be a Dad on Christmas morning. I want to make Christmas breakfast and wear matching Christmas pajamas."

He paused, his eyes distant. "I saw that future. I could see it as clear as day. Me and Tommy snuggled up on the couch with two kids, drinking hot cocoa and watching a fire burn in the fireplace. And now? My future is just a blank slate."

"Maybe that's a good thing?" Maddie offered gently. "Full of possibilities."

"I don't want possibilities," Buck said, his voice trembling with raw emotion. "I want Tommy."

"Oh, Buck," Maddie said, pulling him into a hug.

She caught Chimney's eyes over Buck's head and nodded.

Buck let himself be held by his sister for a few more minutes before standing and taking a deep breath. "Okay, that's enough of that. It's time to ice my cinnamon rolls." He headed to the kitchen and fell into his chosen form of distraction. His focus was so complete he nearly missed the knock on the door.

"Hey, Buck?" Chim called out, a hint of something suspiciously like excitement in his voice. "I think Santa had one more gift for you today."

Buck wiped his hands on a dish towel, a puzzled look crossing his face as he walked toward the door.

"Tommy," Buck whispered.

"Merry Christmas, Evan. Can we talk?"

Buck nodded, unable to form words. Tommy looked worn and tired but still devastatingly handsome. Buck's heart skipped a beat as he looked into those deep blue eyes.

"Why don't you two go have a chat on the patio?" Maddie said.

"Thanks, Maddie," Tommy replied. He and Buck walked through the house and out the back door, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them.

"Why are you here, Tommy?" Buck asked, the words coming out more harshly than he meant for them to.

"I miss you," Tommy whispered.

"What?" Buck said, confusion and hope warring in his voice.

"I miss you, Evan. I miss you. I miss you so damn much that it hurts. I'm not sleeping, I'm barely eating. My captain even temporarily pulled me from air support because he said I'm not safe to fly in this condition." Tommy took in a deep, ragged breath. "I am so sorry that I broke us."

"Then why? Why did you do it? Why did you leave me? I wanted it all with you. I was willing to give you everything, and you just walked away," Buck said, his voice a mixture of pain and desperation.

"You don't know me, Evan. Not really," Tommy said, vulnerability seeping through his defensive words.

"And whose fault is that?" Buck challenged. "I want to know you. All of you. Not just the shiny cool guy that you let the world see. I want it all. And there were times that you trusted me enough to show me glimpses."

"I'm a mess," Tommy murmured.

"Hello! Have you met me?" Buck replied, a hint of humor breaking through the tension. "I don't care about that. You were my mess. We were each other's messes."

"Do you think there's any chance-" Tommy trailed off, leaving the possibility hanging between them.

"You're it for me, Tommy, and I'm sorry if that scares you, but it's true. I love you, and you are my endgame. Do you think maybe you can try to see me as yours?" Buck said, his eyes filling with tears.

"Oh, baby," Tommy said, gently wiping away the tears as they began to spill down Buck's cheeks. "I love you too, and I am never letting you go again."

They kissed gently at first, but then with more heat, pouring out everything they had been holding back.

"Ahem," The two men broke apart as Chimney appeared in the doorway, a knowing smile on his face.

"Now that that's all settled. How about some Christmas breakfast?"

They grinned as Buck grabbed Tommy's hand intertwining their fingers, and steered him inside.

They still had lots of work to do to repair the cracks in their relationship, but it was a start. And Buck knew that they were just going to get stronger because they were in love - messy, complicated, beautiful love, actually.

[gainercontent]

Room to Grow Part 1: Bad Influences

Elliot had always been the skinny guy. At 23, he was tall and lean, with a metabolism that seemed to burn through food like it was nothing. He didn’t work out obsessively or follow any strict diet. It was just the way he was. His friends liked to joke that he could eat an entire pizza and still fit into his skinny jeans the next day, and for the most part, it was true. He liked being that way—easy, effortless, and always confident in his own skin.

When Elliot moved to the city for a new job, he quickly realized that finding an apartment he could afford on his own was next to impossible. After a couple of weeks, he found a shared apartment close to work and agreed to room with two guys, both of whom were a bit older than him. The rent was cheaper, and it seemed like a good deal.

The first time he met his new roommates, he was a little surprised. They were both big guys, especially compared to him. There was Ryan, with his thick arms and broad chest, wearing a band t-shirt and cargo shorts, and then there was Mark, who was tall but with a soft roundness to him that suggested he enjoyed a few too many late-night snacks. They both had warm, easy-going personalities that immediately put Elliot at ease. 

“Hey man, welcome!” Ryan said with a smile, slapping him on the back as they shook hands. 

Mark, with a lazy grin, handed him a plate of brownies. “We’ve got more where that came from,” he joked, “but don't feel obligated to eat them... unless you're hungry.”

Elliot laughed awkwardly, not sure what to say. He accepted a brownie and followed them inside. The apartment was cozy, decorated with posters of classic rock bands and sports teams. It was clear they had lived there for a while, and it felt like their space. Elliot tried not to think too hard about the size of the couch or the wide kitchen table that always seemed to be piled high with food containers.

Over the next few days, he got into a routine. He worked long hours and spent most evenings in his room, catching up on emails or watching shows online. He didn’t have a lot of time to get to know Ryan and Mark, but he did notice how much they loved to cook and eat together. It was always pizza night, or they’d whip up something hearty in the kitchen, from massive pots of spaghetti to giant meatloaves. 

Elliot, by contrast, usually grabbed something light—a salad or a protein bar—when he wasn’t too busy. He didn’t want to make a big deal of it. He’d politely decline when they offered him a plate of whatever they were eating, not wanting to come off as rude or judgmental. 

One night, after Ryan made his signature homemade lasagna, he turned to Elliot. “Hey, man, you’re gonna eat with us, right?”

Elliot froze. He had been about to grab a salad, but he didn’t want to seem like he was avoiding them. “Uh, I’m good. Thanks, though. I just ate earlier.”

Mark, who was lounging on the couch, raised an eyebrow. “You sure? This is *the* lasagna, Elliot. Don’t want you to miss out on it.”

Elliot smiled awkwardly. “I appreciate it, really. I just don’t eat as much as you guys, I guess.”

Ryan set down his fork and looked at him, his expression thoughtful. “Hey, I get it. But honestly, we’re not here to make you feel weird about it. We just like eating together, that’s all. You don’t have to stick to your salad thing just because of us. We’re not judging.”

Mark chimed in from the couch, “Yeah, man, we’ve got no problem with what you eat, but if you’re ever hungry, just join us. No pressure.”

Elliot felt a weird lump in his throat. He’d always been the guy who prided himself on being the one who didn’t care what anyone else thought. But in this moment, he realized he had been putting up walls—around his food choices, his routine, and even his relationships. He wasn’t just trying to avoid calories; he was isolating himself from them, from them as people.

The next weekend, Ryan and Mark invited him to join them for a “healthy cooking day.” Elliot was hesitant at first, unsure of what that meant in their world, but he agreed. They spent the afternoon trying new recipes—grilled chicken, roasted vegetables, and a huge smoothie bar. For once, Elliot wasn’t the only one watching his food intake. He felt like he wasn’t *on display* for his choices anymore. He was just another guy, chopping vegetables, chatting about movies, and trying to make something together.

As the evening came around, they all sat down with bowls of their homemade stir-fry, laughing about silly things from work and sharing stories about past roommates and cooking disasters.

“That was a lot better than I thought it’d be,” Elliot admitted, pushing his empty bowl aside. “I think I’ve just been so stuck in my own head, you know? About food, about what I *should* eat, what I *shouldn’t* eat.”

Ryan leaned back in his chair, nodding. “Yeah, man, I totally get it. It’s all about balance, right? We’ve both been there—stuck in cycles of eating out or trying to cut out everything. It’s about enjoying food and not obsessing over it.”

Mark added, “Exactly. And hey, if you want to keep things healthy, we’re all for it. We’re just trying to make it a little easier for everyone, right?”

Elliot smiled, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. They weren’t just his roommates. They were his friends. They didn’t care about how he looked or what he ate. They just wanted to hang out and share good food, good company, and good times.

Over time, Elliot found that living with Ryan and Mark didn’t just teach him how to enjoy meals more freely, but also how to be more open. Their easy-going attitude about food, body image, and life in general started to rub off on him. He didn’t feel the need to be the skinny guy who had it all figured out. He could be himself—and sometimes, that meant indulging in a big meal, enjoying pizza without guilt, or laughing at a late-night snack with his roommates. 

They all grew in their own ways, together. And Elliot realized that, more than anything, this shared apartment was a space where they could be who they were, without judgment. It was a place to grow—not just in size, but in friendship.

At first, it was a struggle. Elliot had never really thought about how much he could eat. He had always maintained his slender frame with little effort, casually filling up on salads, protein shakes, and the occasional light meal. But living with Ryan and Mark was a different world. Their love for food wasn’t just about eating—it was about *enjoying* eating. And they had no problem eating a lot.

In the beginning, Elliot felt self-conscious when they invited him to join their meals. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the food—they made fantastic meals, hearty and flavorful—but his body had been trained to eat only a small amount at a time. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten a full plate of something. Most evenings, after just a few bites of lasagna or grilled chicken, he felt uncomfortably full and wanted to stop. But Ryan and Mark always finished their plates, sometimes going back for seconds, and then settling in for snacks, chips, or bowls of ice cream.

“Come on, man,” Ryan would say, giving him a playful nudge. “You gotta try this. Just one more bite. Don’t let it go to waste.”

Mark would chuckle, adding, “You’re not gonna be hungry later. Might as well eat now while it’s here.”

The first few weeks were an odd dance for Elliot. He’d eat slowly, trying to keep up with them, feeling the discomfort of fullness hit earlier than usual. At first, he tried to maintain his usual restraint, convinced that he *had* to stop before he felt bloated. But Ryan and Mark, with their carefree attitudes, kept encouraging him to eat more, and each time, Elliot found himself taking just one more bite—then another, and another.

After a while, it became a pattern. There was always more food than anyone could eat in one sitting, so they’d end up watching TV with pizza boxes open on the coffee table, snacking mindlessly. Elliot’s stomach would be stretched to its limits, a dull ache growing in the pit of his stomach, but he found it hard to stop. It wasn’t just about the food anymore. It was the camaraderie, the way they bonded over meals, shared jokes, and never made him feel weird for not being able to keep up at first. 

At first, Elliot hated that feeling—being too full, sluggish, uncomfortable. He’d retire to his room, feeling like he was walking a fine line between fitting in and betraying his own body. But slowly, imperceptibly, something began to shift. His stomach seemed to adapt, expanding in small increments, slowly able to handle more. The next time they had pizza, he found himself reaching for a second slice without the usual hesitation. Then, on a random Tuesday night, he finished a whole plate of spaghetti—and didn’t feel as stuffed as he had before.

He noticed it during the weekends, when they would make their Sunday feast. Mark would fill the air fryer with fried foods, and Ryan would make pizza and a dessert. They’d eat together for hours, chatting, laughing, and passing around dishes, always encouraging each other to take more. It was normal for Mark to have three servings and Ryan to finish off the last of the food.

“You don’t have to keep up with us,” Ryan would say after seeing Elliot hesitate at the table. “But trust me, there’s no shame in enjoying a good meal.”

Elliot had been reluctant at first, but now he was starting to *enjoy* it, too. As much as he tried to fight it, his body began to crave the comfort of those big meals, the indulgent late-night snacks, and the feeling of sitting around with his roommates, chatting over bowls of chili or homemade pizza. He found himself going back for seconds more often. A third helping wasn’t out of the question anymore, and he no longer felt the need to rush to his room afterward to avoid being seen as weak for not finishing everything on his plate.

He also started noticing something he hadn’t expected: his body was changing. At first, it was subtle—an inch added to his waistline, his jeans feeling a bit tighter after a few weeks. But as the months went by, it became more apparent. His arms felt fuller, his stomach rounder, and he even noticed his face becoming a little softer. He wasn’t sure how it had happened, but the extra food—and the ease with which he now consumed it—had started to reflect in his body.

It wasn’t just the weight that was changing. His attitude toward food was shifting, too. Whereas he used to feel guilty for indulging, now he felt more comfortable with the idea of eating for pleasure. His conversations with Ryan and Mark had slowly shifted from just joking about food to serious discussions about eating for both enjoyment and balance. Mark would often tell him, “Don’t think of it as overeating. Think of it as living.”

One afternoon, after they’d spent hours preparing a massive barbecue spread, Elliot was leaning back in his chair, feeling pleasantly full for the first time in weeks. Ryan, who was lounging across from him, caught his eye and gave him a thumbs-up.

“Look at you, man,” Ryan said with a grin. “You’re finally eating like a normal person. Not bad.”

Elliot chuckled, rubbing his stomach. “Yeah, I guess I’ve gotten used to it. Still a bit of a stretch, but... not terrible.”

Mark, who was halfway through a third helping of ribs, laughed and wiped his mouth. “We told you. The more you eat, the more room you’ve got.”

It wasn’t just a physical change. Elliot began to feel more connected to Ryan and Mark. Food had become a bridge, a shared experience that didn’t have to be about calories or body image. It was about friendship, about enjoying the simple pleasure of a meal together and letting go of any anxiety about what or how much he ate. There were days when they all sat at the kitchen table long after dinner, talking and laughing until the food was gone, and he realized he was no longer counting the bites or trying to stop himself from eating too much.

One evening, as they were cleaning up after a particularly indulgent dinner of burgers and fries, Elliot noticed something that made him smile. For the first time, he wasn’t thinking about how full he felt or whether he should have stopped earlier. He was just enjoying the moment, grateful for the friends he had made and the space they’d created where he didn’t have to worry about measuring himself—or his food.

"You're gonna regret this tomorrow," Ryan teased, as Elliot helped clear the table.

Elliot smiled and shrugged. "Nah. I think I’m starting to get the hang of it."

And for the first time, he wasn’t just talking about eating. He was talking about life—letting go, being present, and allowing himself to be a part of something bigger than his own self-consciousness.

Over time, the changes to his body became more pronounced, but Elliot didn’t mind. The tightness around his stomach was no longer uncomfortable. It felt natural, like something that had just happened over time. And maybe it wasn’t about his physical transformation as much as it was about his acceptance of himself and his life with Ryan and Mark. It had always been about more than just food. It was about sharing, growing, and finding comfort in something simple but meaningful.

**New Chapter will be posted each Thursday** 

[writing-blog-iguess]

Online Matchup 12

Summery: Something seems to be going on with Jason. Instead of pushing him, Y/n lets him be and talks to friends.

Warning: swearing

I Tag list: @teapartydreams @adorabluesposts

ao3 Series master list

A/n: Happy holidays! Have a filler, it’s a little angsty but it ends in a happy. I know I've been just posting just this pic. I'm having a bit of a hard time ending the other fics but hope to get them done in January. That is my goal.

—————

March 22

Y/N (7:37 am)

How’d it going today?

Y/n (8:58am)

I burnt my breakfast

I don’t even know how that happened

I looked away for a minute and the next thing I know

The smoke detector went off and there’s smoke in the kitchen

D:

I’m so sad

Now I don’t have anything to eat and I’m late for school

Y/n (10:00am)

I am not sure why I thought getting my engineering degree was a good idea

Nothing my teacher is saying is making sense

I want to go home

Y/N (1:28pm)

So, classes are done but now I have to work

With the amount of sleep I didn’t get

Work is the last thing I want to do

Y/n (3:43pm)

I made another fire again today

Downside, they docked my pay a little

Upside, I get to go home early today

So there’s that

Y/n (4:39 pm)

I hope you’re doing okay

Y/n (5:04 pm)

Hey Steph?

Is Jason okay?

Stephanie

What do you mean?

Y/n

I don’t know

I haven’t heard from him today

I just want to know if he’s okay

Stephanie

He hasn’t talked to you at all today?!.

Y/n

No, and we didn’t get into a fight

Did something happen?

Stephanie

Yeah, but I don’t think I’m the one who should tell you

Y/n

Yeah I understand

There are some things he hasn’t told me

I know that much

Stephanie

I’m sorry

Y/n

No worries

But could you tell me if he’s doing okay whenever you see him?

Stephanie

Of course

Y/n (5:14 pm)

Do you think you’ll see Jason today?

Roy

Um, I’m on my way to him now

How’d you know?

Y/n

Wild guess

I know he’s dealing with something but I don’t know what

Could you tell him I’m here for him if he ever needs me?

Roy

Why can’t you tell him yourself?

Y/n

He hasn’t been talking to me today

And I didn’t want to push if he doesn’t want to talk

The last time we went no contact, we both pushed each other away

Roy

That asshole

Y/n

Just be nice when you see him

Roy

I was

But now I should give him shit for what he’s putting you through

Y/n

No don’t

This is nothing compared to whatever Jason is going through

Roy

If I didn’t know better

You already know what’s he going through

Y/n

But I don’t

I just know that it’s bad if he’s not talking to anyone right now

Roy

You really care about him huh?

Y/n

I’m not afraid to admit it

Roy

Good

Jason needs someone like you on his side

I’m glad he has you

You threw your phone on the couch after reading Roy’s message, and bit your thumbnail in thought. Roy’s words had a deeper meaning now then before you knew the whole truth. And wondered if they would hold the same weight after they realized you went behind Jason’s back to find the truth.

It wasn’t something you needed to worry about now. There was something more pressing and you weren’t sure what to do but wait.

Sighing, you stood from the couch and made your way to the kitchen. After eating supper, you retrieved your laptop from your room and set it on the table.

Staring at it for a good minute or two, you made up your mind and turned it out. Once logged in, you went through the motions and found yourself in the Batcomputer again.

There was nothing for you to do but watch and wait. And that’s what you did for the rest of the night, you watched and listened as they talked out plans and watched as Oracle fought against the Calculator.

Scared of being discovered, you were debating whether or not you should leave. But you couldn’t, not until you knew Jason was okay.

But the decision was made for you when Oracle forced both you and Calculator when she rebooted her system. You gave her credit and wondered why she didn’t do that earlier.

With nothing to do, you slumped against your chair and hoped everything turned out in their favour.

“Jason you have a minute?” Roy called as the Outlaws made their way out of the building with Riddler in tow. Jason nodded, and the two of them branched off from their friends.

”What’s up?” Jason asked when they were far enough away from prying ears.

“Have you talked to Y/n lately?” Roy asked, and Jason flinched at the mention of you. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“Are they doing okay?” Jason asked, rubbing the back of his neck. Roy shrugged and said he didn’t know. “What do you mean you don’t know?”

“Exactly that, I don’t know,” he answered, “I just know that they’re really worried about you and wanted you to know that they’re there if you need them.”

“I’ll always need them,” Jason said without a second thought.

“That’s probably something you need to tell them, not me,” Roy said and looked towards their friends. “Look, everything seems to be okay here now. And I doubt Batman needs our help right now.”

“Probably because he’s being a stubborn asshole,” Jason muttered and Roy ignored it with a shake of his head.

“Why don’t you go see Y/N?” Roy suggested, “it would ease their mind a bit.” Jason shook his head at the thought.

“Not yet,” he said, “not until we deal with Joker. The last thing I need or want is for Joker to find Y/N.”

“Fair enough. Then at least answer their texts,” he said, “that’s something you can do without Joker knowing.”

“Suppose you’re right,” Jason said, sighing in defeat.

“I’m always right,” Roy said, gaining a laugh out of his friend.

“Not always,” he said and walked off towards his bike. He pulled out his phone. Scrolling through his messages, he couldn’t help but laugh.

Jason (12:35 am)

You set two things on fire today

One might think you’re a pyromaniac

Y/n (1:09 am)

:O

I am no such thing

i set ONE thing on fire and burnt my eggs

There is a difference

Jason

No I don’t think so

It’s the same thing

Y/n

Well then I guess your seeing a pyromaniac

Jason

I’ve dated worst things

Y/n

Ex-fucking-cuse me?

What could possibly be worse than a pyromaniac?

Jason

A serial killer

Y/n

YOU DATED A SERIAL KILLER?

Jason

Okay, not technically

Y/n

What does that mean?!

Jason

Means she was apart of the league of assassins

And given that their job description is basically their title

It's the same thing

Y/n

I can feel you shrugging like its not a big deal

But it is

And I worry for you and your taste of women

Jason

There’s nothing wrong with my taste in women

Y/n

Says the guy who dated a women who kills for a living

And me, who’s and I’m quoting here

a ‘pyromaniac’

Jason

Nothing wrong with a little arson

Y/n

My goodness

Judging by that statement alone, I think you’re the pyromaniac

Jason

Well, I mean I have done a little arson myself

So I’m not one to judge

Y/n

……

Jason

Wow, six dots

I must really made an impression

Y/n

You’re lucky your pretty

Jason

I knew it

You’re only into me because of my looks

Y/n

-_-

I’m going to bed

Jason

No, no no wait

I went a little to far, I’m sorry

Y/n

You’re forgiven

Can I call you? Or are you too busy for that?

Jason

Not busy persay, just I’m with my friends and I’m not yet ready for you to meet them

Y/n

Afraid I’ll run away?

Jason

Something like that

Sometimes they can be a little too much

And protective

Other then that, I wouldn’t mind hearing your beautiful voice

Y/n

Oof, maybe I should go to bed

I’m red like a tomato

Jason

Sounds like a sight to see

Y/n

I’m sure it is

…

Are you okay?

And don’t just saying something cheesy like

Jason

I’m better now that I’m talking to you

Y/n

You son of a bitch

I told you not to say something like that

Smooth fucker

Jason

But I am telling the truth

Something came up last night that triggered something

I had to leave town for the day, but my friends showed up and we talked.

Roy said something about you being worried

I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you

I just, I needed to deal with it before I could see you or talk to you

Y/n

No I get

Probably didn’t help with all my messages

But I’m glad you’re feeling better

Still dealing with it?

Jason

Yeah

But once it’s done, I’ll come and see you

Promise

Y/n

Take your time with it, I don’t mind the wait

I’m just glad you to hear from you

Jason

I’m so glad I met you

Y/n

Me too

[smoky-lucine]

Close Call

Little sister!Reader

After a close call during a hunt, The Winchester brothers panic as Castiel heals you.

Injuries, angst

My second fic :) I'm still trying to get the hang of writing but hopefully you all enjoy :)

You and the boys have been working on a case dealing with werewolves. You managed to catch one and kill it, and he confessed there is a whole pack in town and now you need to find the rest of them. You and Sam stayed in the motel and studied up on werewolves while Dean and Cas went out to the recent attacks around the town.

You didn’t get a lot of sleep the last few nights, as the werewolf attacks were happening faster and faster, and the four of you have been out every night on watch for any leads. Sam nudges your shoulder, and your chin slips off your hand and you jolt awake.

“Everything alright?” Sam asks while he shuts the book you fell asleep reading and sits down next to you.

“I’m okay, just tired from being out so late last night.” You say, rubbing your eyes.

Dean calls Sam and he gives you a gentle smile before he answers the phone and puts the call on speaker.

“Hey Dean, did you find anything?”

“Yeah. One of the Officers was a werewolf. He told us where they’re all staying before we took him out. We’re gonna hit it tonight alright?” Dean explains and you hear Castiel in the background ordering food for the three of you.

“Sounds good to me. Did he say how many of them are staying there?” You reply

“Nope. By the looks of how many attacks there's been, I don’t think it would be more than 7 or 8.” Dean says confidently.

Sam keeps talking about the case with Dean and you start getting silver bullets and knives ready for the hunt.

Later that night the four of you are on the way to the werewolves hiding house in the Impala. Sam and Dean are having their own conversation in the front while you and Castiel talk in the back.

“Have you ever hunted werewolves before?” You ask Cas.

“A few times yes. Angels don’t usually deal with them. Have you?”

“Occasionally yeah. I haven’t seen them in a while though, not since we still hunted with dad.” You say looking away. You didn’t like talking about your dad anymore, nobody really did. “I haven’t practiced my shooting in a bit too.”

“I’m sure we got it kid.” Dean says to you looking in the rear view mirror. “It’s gonna be a small pack. It’s gonna be in and out.”

You give him a smile. You turn to yawn and look out the window for the rest of the ride.

The four of you get ready and watch the house waiting for Dean to decide when to go in.

“Alright. Sam and Cas you two go in the side door, Y/N and I will go through the front.”

You look at Dean surprised. He normally chooses Sam when splitting up and it would make sense here too.

“Are you sure Dean?” You ask him nervously. “Yes, I’m sure. Do you not want to go in? What’s wrong?” Sam looks at you knowing you're tired, but he knows you don't want to tell the truth to Dean.

“No, it’s okay.” You say quietly, walking away a bit and focusing back on the house. Everybody does one last look at each other before splitting up and breaking into the house.

Dean kicks the door down and you both run in aiming separate ways. You hear Dean shoot a werewolf down and he turns to check on you in the now empty room. You can hear the other wolves in the house warning the others and running to defend against the four of you. You run up to the doorway, calling it clear and Dean runs into the kitchen with you following.

Making your way through the house, you and Dean each take down a few werewolves, and eventually meet up with Sam and Cas. The upstairs is still loud with werewolves running and escaping. You all say how many you took down and quickly realize there are at least triple the number of werewolves than Dean previously thought.

“But that doesn’t make sense. How can there be so many??” He says reloading his gun and looking around the room.

You responded “The attacks were happening faster and faster. I guess they don’t want to be careful anymore.” You focus on reloading your gun when you hear a growl.

You turn and see a werewolf sprinting at you and tackles you, losing all air in your lungs and dropping your gun. It claws at your stomach, leaving a huge gash. You quickly start seeing stars and your vision starts clouding, black slowly starting to take over. Coughing and screaming out you hear multiple gunshots and the werewolf dying.

Sam and Dean run up to you, eyes shocked at your injury.

“She’s really hurt.” Sam says, tearing up trying to get your eyes to focus.

“Sammy we gotta get her out of here.” Dean says loudly and begins to pick you up, flinching when he hears you cry out in pain. “There’s too many wolves here we need to leave.”

Dean runs as quickly as possible to Baby, putting you in the backseat. He throws the keys to Sam and yells "Drive!!” Castiel gets in the passenger seat and Sam runs to the driver’s seat and quickly starts the car, driving away from the house.

Dean holds you in the backseat trying to keep himself composed as he talks to you. “It’s okay Y/N. It’s gonna be okay alright? I’m so sorry I should’ve paid more attention. Look at me Y/N, open your eyes.” He begins to panic and yells at Sam to drive faster.

“We need to get far enough away; Cas needs to heal her.” Sam says speeding down the road.

You slip in and out of consciousness and wake up to Dean crying over you, and Sam and Cas yelling in worry. The three boys can’t stand hearing you scream in pain. You pass out and when the car is suddenly silent, Sam pulls over quickly as he and Castiel rush out of the car to reach you in the back seat.

“Cas, heal her.” Dean says solely focused on holding you still. Sam holds your hand as Castiel puts his hand on your stomach. His hand emits a bright white glow and Sam and Dean look away.

You wake up in the motel room. You look around at the quiet room and see Castiel in the corner staring at you.

“You're awake.” He says walking up to you. “I healed you. You’ve been asleep for a couple days, Sam finally got Dean to leave and eat.” You lift your shirt and there isn't a single scratch on your abdomen.

Castiel helps you sit up and hands you a bottle of water. “Your physical injuries are healed, but your body is tired. I could tell you haven’t slept in a few days.”

You drink the water and hand it back to Castiel. “Yeah, those night watches have been pretty hard. I appreciate you healing me and staying with me.” You give him a small smile and he gives you one in return and lets you rest longer.

Sam and Dean come home and seeing you sitting up in bed they run up to you. Dean hugs you tightly and when you yelp in surprise he lets go, scared you were somehow still injured. “Kid, I was so scared. I thought we lost you.” he says kneeling beside the bed, looking at you.

Sam gives you a big hug before climbing into the other side of the bed and letting you lean into his side. “It was really scary Y/N. I’m so relieved we got you healed in time.”

“I’m really sorry guys.” You say tearing up. “I haven’t slept in days, and I really wanted to help fight them, but I know I should’ve stayed back.”

Dean grabs your hand, “Y/N this isn’t your fault. I shouldn’t have put that pressure on you, and I should’ve stuck to the plan. Please don’t blame yourself.”

You all sit there quietly talking to each other until you slowly fall asleep and get more rest.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Let's Be Jolly

Warnings: dubcon/noncon, drinking, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Summary: You are on the hunt for the perfect present but the price is steeper than you expect.

Character: Sam Wilson

Day Twenty-Seven of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - who invited them to the holiday party?

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The cushion beside you jostles as something, rather someone, hits your elbow with theirs. You glance over at Sam as he stares across the room, a drink in both hands. He narrows his eyes as he continues to stare, you’d even say glare, at someone? 

“Who invited her?” He mutters. 

“Who?” You ask. 

“Did I say that out loud?” He winces and looks at you, offering a glass of the ‘festive punch’, “you’re right, it’s cranberry.” 

“Raspberry didn’t seem very festive,” you kid. 

“Well, maybe a bucket of merlot would be fitting.” 

“And just as strong,” you pull the glass away from your mouth, “wow.” 

“Zesty?” He asks and you nod emphatically. 

“So,” you swallow completely, “who was invited to your chagrin?” 

“My chagrin? Oh, uh, doesn’t matter,” he shrugs, his shoulders even wider on the couch as he crowds you in your corner. 

“Seems like it does,” you say, “but you don’t have to tell me.” 

“Hm, yeah. I guess... it shouldn’t matter, you know? It was a while ago. A long time actually.” He pauses and tastes the punch. “I shouldn’t care... ooh, you’re right about the punch.” 

“Strong but delicious,” you say, “nice party, huh?” 

“Sure,” he agrees, his eyes once more fixated across the room. 

You follow them and see a group of women. They're all very beautiful. They were dresses in varying shades of red, blue, and even gold. Very festive. 

“My ex,” he huffs. “Yeah, you know, got a few of those and somehow they always seem to find me.” 

“Oh... Oh! That’s awkward,” you giggle nervously. “Wish I could help you there. I don’t really have that problem.” 

“Ha, of course. You’re too sweet for that—shit,” he grimaces and you nearly spill your drink as he nudges you with his elbow. You switch hands as he grabs your other. “Play along. Please.” 

You barely process what’s happening as he clings to your hand. You look up as one of the women approaches with a preening smirk. She’s gorgeous. Her midnight blue dress is speckled with gemstones. The kind you would love to have if you had any sense of style. And her hair, gorgeous spiraled curls that swallow up the light. 

“Destiny, hey,” he clears his throat. “What’s goin’ on? Didn’t expect to see you here.” 

Despite his previous displeasure, he sounds casual. He's always so cool and calm. It’s what makes him such a good friend. 

“Sammy,” she grins. “Nice to see you too. You look... rested.” 

You think she means more than she says. You’re not the best at reading between the lines. Sometimes, for the worse, you assume the best. 

“You too, Dee,” he stays reclined, unbothered. “So, just you and the girls?” 

“Sure, Emma always puts on a great party, doesn’t she?” she shimmies just a little with her purr. You fidget and slurp louder than you mean to. “Oh, excuse me, I’m sorry, hon. I don’t mean to ignore you. I’m Destiny.” 

“Destiny,” you perk up, “uh, it’s nice to meet you.” 

“You too, sweetie,” she drawls, “have fun with Sammy. He’s always a good time.” 

She winks and spins, strutting back to her group. You gulp awkwardly, the burn of alcohol nestling deep in your gut. You need to slow down. 

“That wasn’t weird at all,” he says. “Sorry about that. She always has to be so extra. She’s the one who ghosted me, you know? But she acts like I'm the problem.” He scoffs and tuts, swigging from his own glass. “Don’t even let her get to you. She wishes she was as sweet as you. She’s the devil.” 

You nod and rest your glass against your leg. You wiggle your fingers between his, “uh, Sam, my hand’s falling asleep.” 

“Uh, oh, yeah,” he looks down before he lets you go. “Forgot... thanks, er, for just playing it cool. Can’t imagine if I was here alone. Wouldn’t have to worry if Buck wasn’t such a damn sour puss.” 

“He’s not coming?” You wonder. You don’t often find one without the other. 

“Just me, sorry to disappoint,” he stretches his fingers and sits forward, drinking again, this time with a hunch. 

“I didn’t mean that,” you insist as you lean forward too. “I just thought... I dunno. I’m usually the third wheel, aren’t I?” 

“Nah, that would be Bucky,” he snorts. “You really think that?” 

“I guess, but it’s not like, that deep,” you shrug. “You’ve known each other so long.” 

“Well, it’s not his fault he’s ancient and not mine I’ve been cursed with him,” he snickers. “Tell you what,” he looks at you with a smirk. “Tonight, I’ll show you that you aren’t no third wheel, alright? We’re going to have a blast. Just you and me. You’ll see exactly what you are.” 

“Oh,” you smile, “sounds like a plan, uh...” you look at your drink, feeling its warmth in your cheeks already. “It would be hard not to have any fun with this stuff.” 

“Yep,” he licks his lips and raises his glass, “strong but too good to stop.” 

🎄

You haven’t been this drunk in... well, ever. You’re not much of a drinker. On the odd occasion, you’ll have glass, but nothing excessive. Until tonight. 

The party buzzes around you; music, voices, lights. It all smears together as a dull pain sinks in behind the glaze in your vision. You need some water. Your stomach is too full of alcohol and salty finger foods. 

You look around. The bowl of punch is about empty and the cooler’s open as most of the contents have been picked clean. At least you aren’t the only one above their limit. You stagger around dizzily as you search for anything to dilute your haze. 

You clutch your drained glass down as you enter the kitchen. Where’s that girl Emma? She’s the host, right? You don’t want to just dig through her fridge without asking first. Ugh, but your stomach feels so...sloshy. 

You go to the tap and rinse out the used cup. You fill it with tap water. You take a small sip and slowly swallow. The tepidness doesn’t do much to sooth your insides. 

“Hey,” Sam’s voice startles you. You flinch so hard you splash your dress with the water. You put the glass down and face him, shaking off the droplets. “Sorry, did I do that?” 

“Hm, oh, I’m a bit... tipsy... I think,” you murmur groggily. “I shouldn’t have had so much.” 

“It’s alright, everyone’s lit,” he crosses the kitchen without even a sway. Well, he’s probably got a much higher tolerance. 

“Right, uh... I’m just not...” you clamp your lips shut before you can burp. You breathe it out your nose and gulp. “...used to it.” 

“That’s fine, baby, I’ll take care of you,” he closes in as you lean against the counter. “You wanna hold my arm? You can lean on me.” 

“I just need... a minute,” you wave him off. 

You close your eyes and frame your face with your hands. You try to sort through the fuzziness and the fire in your chest. Was it three or four drinks? More than that? You weren’t counting, Sam just kept bringing you more. 

“I think... I think I need to go home,” you exhale and force your eyes open. “Oh!” 

You flinch as you find Sam right in front of you, crowding you. You blink as his hand frightens you. He pets the side of your head as you gape at him in confusion. 

“What are you doing?” You rasp. 

“Shh, baby, I told you, I'll take care of you.” 

You lean your head into his hand without thinking. You grip the counter tight, your body heavy from alcohol and fatigue. You fight the droop in your eyelids and the yawn twitching in your cheeks. You just want to lay down. 

“You okay, baby?” He brushes your cheek with his thumb. 

Baby? Why does he keep calling you that? You giggle. It’s such a strange thing to say. 

“You’re drunk. So drunk,” he says. 

You hiccup and nod, “I am,” your voice bubbles in your throat. “So are you!” 

He grins and tilts his head, “not really.” 

“Sure, you must be... you had as much as me.” 

His eyes narrow, “did I?” 

Did he? 

You can’t remember. It doesn’t really matter now. You’re not doing to well. Your legs shake and threaten to collapse as you hold yourself up against the counter. Before you can give in to the weakness, he scoops you up and sits you on the granite. You let out a squeak of surprise. 

“Sam!” You squeal. 

“Baby,” he drags his hands away from your hips and down your thighs. You feel your dress rise above your knees as he nudges your legs apart. “You okay? Spinning?” 

Your head bobbles as lines squiggle in your vision, “a lil...” 

“Sure you are,” he growls. “Warm and soft...” 

He hooks his thumbs under the hem of your skirt and lifts it up your thighs. You squeak again and grab at the fabric. “Sam, what are you doing?” 

“Shh, baby, it’s okay,” he tugs your skirt free of your resistance. “Just relax for me,” 

“I’m-- no—what?” You garble as you give a long blink. “Sam, my head.” 

“I know, baby, close your eyes,” he coos. 

“Mm, I’m too... tired,” you grumble as your lashes shut against your volition. “Sammmm...” the last consonant drags. 

“That’s it, baby, be good for me,” his warm hand cradles your skull as you tilt back. He lays you across the granite so your head hangs off the opposite edge. “I’m gonna show you... you’re not a third wheel, are you?” 

You drone mindlessly as even behind your eyelids, the world spins around you. You feel like you’re moving yet paralysed all at once. You spread your fingers wide and press your palms to the cold countertops.  

The cool air grazes your thighs and hot tickle crawls up the front of your panties. Your head lolls as you fight the dizziness. Stay awake. Awake! 

Your eyes snap open and you fight to lift your head. The warmth between your folds draws your eyes down to Sam as he reaches between your legs. His dark eyes are fixated on your pelvis, below your skirt where you can’t see. He rubs you firmly as the sensation creeps down your legs and up your spine. 

You slur but can’t speak. Your eyes roll back and your head drops down again. You tense against the granite as he continues to tease you. You waver on the edge of consciousness as his fingertips dance on your nerves. 

You’re swept up in the flurry of fire coiling around you. Your feet arch and you push your shoulders down. Your breath fills your ears as you puff and pant, your voice trickling out weakly. 

“Oh, baby, that’s it,” Sam purrs as you feel something dip into you. It isn’t until he’s wiggle two fingers deep inside you that you realise what’s happening. He groans and praises you, “you take me so good. So tight. That’s it, relax. Let Sam take care of you.” 

He rocks his hand, pressing against your clit as he does. The tension clusters there, roiling and speckling beneath your skin. You moan and mewl, writhing as your feet kick against the cupboards. 

“Fuck, baby, you got me hurting,” he pulls his fingers out slowly and wipes them down your thigh. He flutters along your skin and gives a pinch. “So fucking sexy, you know that?” 

He once more grips your hips and slides you down the counter. Your head comes flat over the surface and your lashes part, giving a glimpse of the kitchen lights as they ring in your drunken vision. He balances you on the edge and shifts between your legs. 

You force your eyes wide and turn your head. You stare at the door to the front room. In that moment, the glaze of alcohol breaks and you hear and see everything so clearly. The voices competing with the music, the clink of glasses and shuffle of footsteps. The trim of the doorway and the flawless white paint. 

The dull pain that splits you drowns your lungs with a shriek. Sam smothers it in his hand as he keeps going, pushing his tip past the seal of your resistance. He hushes you as he rocks gently, urging further and further into you. 

You shake as you fight to raise your head. You look at him as tears form on the brims of your eyes. He has a hand splayed over your pelvis as he invades you inch after inch. You warble into his palm as he bites his lip and ignore your pain. 

He sighs as he impales you to his limit and well past yours. You arch your back and curl your toes as you try to ease the pressure. You beg him with pitiful whimpers against his hand. 

He slides back, staring at his length as he does, then pushes back in. You clench and grasp his wrist, your guts tightening. His hand pushes up your skirt as it trails up to your stomach then along the front of your dress. 

He shoves your head down to suppress your rising voice. He keeps you trapped there as his hand blocks out your sobs. His other hand delves under the vee of your dress and he fondles your chest. You snivel and flick your eyes back to the vacant ceiling. You close them as you try to hide from this distorted reality. 

Sam pumps into you, groaning and grunting as his pace builds. Faster, harder, until your flesh claps loud enough to be heard against the drone from just the other side of the wall. You shudder as that fact feeds your futility. Here you are, just feet away from help, and you can do nothing. 

“Yes, baby, that’s it,” Sam moves his hand beneath your head, lifting you slightly off the counter, and his other curling under your ass as he buries himself deeper. “Be a good girl for me. Let everyone hear how much you want me? Huh? Let that bitch know she’s can’t compare to you, baby.” 

[4milly]

girl u are FREKAYYYYY. what's life like with bd!zilla? 🙄🙄🙄🙄

i really do imagine he's the type to be so nonchalant about shit tbh. like when you two decided to co-parent your 3 year old son, from that day forth zilla's always put on this act that he never cared about shit you did. you both were single.

nothing new. he did the in the relationship. act like nothing ever mattered. you'd do things to spite him to atleast see if he cared. like doing your hair a different way when you'd drop your son off, wearing a dress too short and posting it to the gram, even sending him thirst traps on "accident".

only to get a dry ass response. barely even that, sometimes he’d just heart the message and move on.

but nothing ever seemed to phase him. you'd catch glimpses sometimes - a fleeting look in his eyes when he thought you weren't paying attention, the way his jaw would tighten ever so slightly when another man's name came up. but he'd always brush it off, act like it was nothing.

one day, you decided to really push it. you showed up to drop off your son wearing that slinky red dress he always loved, the one that hugged every curve. you made sure your makeup was flawless, your hair perfectly curled. as you handed over your giggling toddler, you casually mentioned the date you had lined up for that night.

little did he know, you didn't even have one. you purposely did all this shit so his blood pressure would raise.

for a split second, you saw it - that flash of jealousy, that hint of possessiveness in his dark eyes. but just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by his usual cool indifference. "have fun, babygirl," he said with a wink before focusing on your son

"mama, look pretty?" your son said gleaming towards you

"she does, buddy. so very pretty." he simply stated giving you a once over, stopping at your cleavage.

you felt a shiver run down your spine at his words, at the way his eyes lingered on your body. for a moment, you forgot to breathe. then you caught yourself, plastering on a coy smile. "thanks," you said breezily, "i'm sure my date will think so too."

as you turned to head back to your car , you could feel zilla's eyes on you, burning into your back. you put an extra sway in your hips, knowing exactly how that dress moved when you walked. you heard your son's laughter fade as the door closed behind you.

later that night, after your mediocre date with some guy whose name you could barely remember, you found yourself scrolling through your phone in the bathroom. your thumb hovered over zilla's contact. before you could stop yourself, you fired off a text: "date was a bust. heading home early."

you stared at your phone, waiting for his reply. the minutes that went by were agonizing. just as you were about to toss your phone in your purse, it buzzed.

u wanna come over, mama?

you knew this was a bad idea. you only wanted to spite him — show him you still had it and what he lost. but...damn, you'd be lying if you said you didn't crave to feel that long, girth, samoan dick working inside you, and those hands using your hips bouncing you like a bitch in heat, just like an addict craves their next fix. nonetheless, you responded anyways: be there in 15.

the ride to his place felt endless. second-guessing your decision with every passing streetlight. but when you knocked on the door and saw him standing in the doorway, all doubts vanished. He looked good - too good. his white tank top clung to his muscular frame, and his sweatpants hung low on his hips.

"hey, mama," he said, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "come in."

you stepped inside, the familiar scent of his cologne washing over you. the living room was dimly lit. as you stepped inside, the familiar scent of his cologne washing over you, you felt a surge of electricity in the air. the living room was dimly lit, casting long shadows across the walls. soft music played in the background - was that the playlist you used to make love to? baby making music as they say.

zilla closed the door behind you, his presence looming large. you could feel the heat radiating off his body as he moved closer, his scent suffocating you. "you want sum' to drink?" he asked, his voice husky.

you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. as he walked to the kitchen, your eyes followed the broad expanse of his back, remembering how it felt to dig your nails into those muscles.

He returned with two glasses of red wine - your favorite. As he handed you yours, his fingers brushed against yours, lingering just a moment too long. you took a sip, the rich flavor exploding on your tongue.

you closed your eyes for a brief moment as you glanced over the room, "so where is our little guy?" desperate to break the silence.

zilla almost didn't hear the question, to occupied in looking at your ass in the dress.

"zilla?" you said more firmly to bring his attention back towards you

"my bad, mama. we watched that paw patrol shit he like and he crashed out not too long ago," he responded before taking a sip of his wine "you look good as fuck, y'know that?"

you felt a flush creep up your neck at his words. "thanks," you murmured, taking another sip of wine to steady your nerves.

zilla moved closer, his eyes roaming over you hungrily. "you r'member first time you wore it?" his voice was low, tinged with desire. "that night at the club, when I couldn't keep my hands off you. had to take yo ass home right then."

you nodded, memories flooding back. the way he'd pressed you against the wall as soon as you got through the door, his hands sliding up your thighs, pushing the dress higher, pushing his hand into your panties.

before you could respond, zilla closed the distance between you, his large hand cupping your face. "lemme r'mind you," he growled, before crashing his lips against yours. the kiss was hungry, desperate, filled with years of pent-up longing.

in one fluid motion, he lifted you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. he carried you to the wall, pressing you against it as his lips trailed hot kisses down your neck. your head fell back, a soft moans escaping your lips.

"god, you so fuckin' pretty," he murmured against your skin, his hands roaming your body, reacquainting themselves with every curve. he hitched your dress up higher, his fingers tracing the edge of your lace panties. "these in the way, mama."

with a swift movement, he pushed your panties to the side exposing your wet core, "shit, i missed this pussy. she missed daddy, baby?"

zilla's fingers were replaced by his hard length, rubbing against you. you didn't remember when he got the time to take his dick out his pants, but thank the stars above. you finally were about to get what you've nearly been wishing for and more, "fuck me, zilla. i missed you so much."

he slid into you, filling you up in one long stroke. your eyes rolled back as your body stretched to accommodate him. it had been too long since you'd felt him this way, inside you, claiming you as his own. the way his dick filled you perfectly made your mind go numb. you wrapped an arm around his neck bringing his lips to your owns. you let out a strangled whine as began to stroke, your pussy still getting used to the filling of being so full again.

he started moving slowly, dragging his hips back until you were nearly empty before filling you back up letting you adjust, and repeating the process until the coarse hair at the base of his cock tickled your clit.

"zilla!" you yelped as a particular thrust made him swipe over that special spot inside of you

"shh, shh don't wake him up, mama." he replied throwing a hand over your mouth to keep you moans at bay — careful not to wake your sleeping boy down the hall. "so fuckin' pretty just taking all this dick. I should nut all up in yo pretty ass.”

your moans and screams were muffled into zilla's hand. your eyes rolling towards the back of your head. you were in complete bliss right now. zilla's hips moved with a primal rhythm, each thrust driving you higher up the wall. your dress bunched around your waist, the silky fabric sliding against your skin with every movement. your panties, pushed hastily to the side, were soaked with your arousal — same as the floor beneath you. zilla's thickness stretched and filled you completely, your walls clenching around him, trying to draw him even deeper.

"that's it, mama," he panted, his hips pounding you against the wall. "take this dick. show me how much you missed it."

you arched your back, pressing your chest against his as you sought more friction. zilla's free hand slid down to grip your ass, kneading the flesh as he lifted you slightly, changing the angle. the new position had him hitting your g-spot with every stroke, and you saw stars behind your closed eyelids. you wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, your heels digging into his lower back, urging him on. your nails raked down his muscular back, leaving small rips in his tank top. zilla dipped his head, trailing hot kisses along your collarbone and down to the swell of your breasts.

your breath hitched as your belly started to tighten around his dick. zilla let out a quiet menacing chuckle into your ear, "wassup baby? you wanna cum? keep wettin' this dick up. make that shit spit fa me."

tears pricked your eyes as you shut them tightly. the pressure built up in your stomach and cum dripped down your legs — unable to store all of it in your pussy with his dick pummeling inside of you. zilla groaned, feeling your walls clench around him. "that's it, baby," he praised, his movements becoming erratic as he chased his own release. "fuck, I'm gonna cum. want me to fill you up, mama?"

your eyes were crossed and your head was spent, only focusing on the feeling of cumming all over him and the pleasure radiating through your body.

he let out a groan as he released every drop of his cum into you without thinking twice. his hips stuttering as he followed you over the edge. he gripped your ass, his hips bucking upwards, emptying ropes of his cum deep inside of you—filling you to the brim with his seed. some of it running down his dick, to his legs, and onto the floor. It felt too good to pull out and he wasn’t going to.

as you both came down from your high, zilla slowly removed his hand from your mouth, replacing it with a tender kiss on your bottom lip as you continued to shake and twitch in his arms. the feeling of his warm cum so deep inside you, triggering another mini orgasm. your body continued to convulse as every nerve ending in your body exploded, "yo ass happy you finally got some dick?"

❦:

@caramelcleopatraa @harmshake @msbigredmachine @luvrsluxe @uceyliyahh @angiedawn02 @amandairene88 @cyberdejos2 @queeny23 @empressdede @trentybenty @heauxvibez @whatdoeseverybodywant @shes2real @romansthrone @acknowledge-reigns @southerngirl41 @prettyfilmz @jaza23

don’t forget to like and reblog! <3 drop a comment also! i love reading those. xoxo, cleo.

(think i might make this a series tbh.)

[nuggeteri]

hello hello i see you are a flower ranchers enjoyer, i am The flower ranchers guy would you like to talk abt them :>

Oh my god I was writing you a one-shot and my fucking website just fucking glitched and erased all of it. Welp. Back to writing I go (another concept though because I am not rewriting the same shit twice)

Also my DMS are open if that's what you meant :333

.

"Are you sure?" Jimmy asks, looking from right to left---almost worried to be getting caught.

Scott doesn't know why he even bothers. They're in the BamBunker and it really wasn't that big. It could all be seen from one look. He guesses it only emphasized on how anxious Scott was about the idea.

Scott doesn't think it should be against the rules if it's his power. He nods.

"Well, okay, but you can't say I gave you permission, alright?" He warns and Scott knows that Jimmy wouldn't do anything even if he didn't listen. Scott agrees anyway. "Yup. Sure. Now let me."

With only minimal sounds of protests, Jimmy turned around, back facing Scott, which the shirt the blond was wearing having two rips, allowing golden small wings to pass through.

Scott knows he could've stolen Grian's wings. They were bigger and would probably get him more success. Pearl would've let him without a second thought. He could probably coherse Martyn. While Lizzie's were fake, they could certainly do the job. But if he chose anyone other than Jimmy, then they wouldn't be getting all red, hot and bothered and Scott having his hands in their wings.

"You've grown some blue feathers." He remarks as he passes a hand through them. Jimmy hiccups, gasps and chirps before managing to answer him--- "Yeah..- I guess? I mean, look at me! Still standing!" He wasn't a canary anymore,Mumbo and Skizz are indeed dead. Scott can give that to him. "Proud of you, Petal."

He passes his hand through a few more of the new feathers before activating his powers. He's not even entirely sure if it would work, but at least, trying it gave him an excuse to pass his hands over Jimmy's soft wings.

It does work. It's not painful, per say, more of uncomfortable to have his back torn off to let wings pass through, but oh well.

It also ripped his shirt and jacket--oh well. He could always ask Cleo to sew it back together afterwards. She wouldn't say not to her soulmate.

"Did it work?"

Scott chirped---it didn't come as a surprise for him, he remembered how being an Avian was from Empires season one-- and it was all Jimmy needed to get his question answered. He chirped back, and oh gosh, not only had Scott missed these Avian instincts, but it made him feel fuzzy to have his partner respond.

He doesn't show it, though. That's Jimmy's thing, as he got redder and redder by the second.

"Aww, Jimmy, are you flustered?"

"Go and catch Tango!"

Right--- because this was also what it was all about. While Scott wanted to run his hands through his boyfriend's unused wings, he also wanted to catch up on his other boyfriend who had been running all around the server not to get caught.

He knew, logically, that Tango would stop for him if he asked. After all, he was still green, and therefore not allowed to attack him. However, that wouldn't be fun.

"I'll send kisses from you his way, then!" He says before flapping his new wings and getting out of the bunker without using the ladders--which he could hear his boyfriend complaining about.

He doesn't care--- he has a mission. Find Tango.

It's not that hard. The Bamboozlers' mountain already gave a good overall view of the server--flying slightly higher made it incredible.

Tango was running circles around Spawn.

Scott dipped and glided all the way over there.

"Hey, snowbug!" He called out.

"AAAH!" Tango screams---a little loud, which makes Scotts newly obtained head wings flap back in surprise, but other wise, doesn't hurt a fly.

"Since when have you gotten wings?" He asks, flabbergasted.

"Jimmy gave them to me. Powers, remember? I can steal people's hybrid status."

"That is---amazing! Oh my, can you become a blaze hybrid?" Tango proposes and---well, it's not like Scott hadn't already considered it. There were cultural and biological traditions he and his partners couldn't practice. Like wrapping someone around a wing for Jimmy, or have flames intertwine for blazes. He wanted to try all of that. But not right now.

"Later, bug," he informs him, "You've already stolen from me!"

Tango's fire seems to spark at Scotts words---something that he finds absolutely adorable. They were all excited.

"How so?" He still manages to get out.

"Ice is my thing. It's the second time you steal it!"

-

I did get lazy towards the end soryyyy it's soon to be four AM....but flower ranchers

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Chapter 36

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Allusions to abuse

A/N: This feels more like a filler chapter, just carrying the story further with no real plot. Maybe that’s just the way I see it. The prison is on the horizon!

That first conscious breath when waking was still such a treasured moment. You could smell nature, taste the crisp cold, hear the sequestered tunes of the wild, and even venture to forget that death walked. For that handful of invaluable heartbeats, life was normal.  

That particular morning was different. You still experienced those precious few seconds of tranquility, your lips nearly curling into a smile when your brain—still hazy from sleep—realized it was dawn. Walkers had not stumbled upon your camp. No one had died. There were no screams. It was pleasantly quiet aside from soft gurgles and coos. 

You felt no panic when your hand touched the cold ground, finding Birdie to be gone. Even without her verbal cues, you could sense she was close by and so was Daryl.

“Doin’ a awful lot’a jabberin’, lil’ Bird.” 

His reposeful tone harbored an inkling of amusement. Your eyes opened slowly as if you feared making a sound that would disrupt the moment. Daryl was sitting with his back against a tree, knees drawn up to pillow a blanketed bundle of Birdie. One tiny hand was wrapped around his index finger while her other limbs were secure beneath the warmth of the fabric. 

“C’mon, gotta keep ya snug here. S’too cold.”

Craning his neck, he pressed the gentlest of kisses to little fingers before pulling his own digit free in order to tuck her hand away. The baby did not care for the idea, grunting and passing gas in protest. Daryl huffed a laughed through his nose. 

“Gonna need ‘nother diaper if ya keep that up.”  

A tiny mouth opened as if to squeak but stretched wider in a yawn. The action had the archer laughing again, an actual quiet chuckle. Extending a finger, he tapped Birdie’s cheek and watched her root around for a source of food. You could watch him interact with her all day long without an ounce of boredom. Not if she had anything to say about it, however. 

“Guess m’gonna hafta wake up your mama, huh?” The blanket bulged and shifted with the movements of little limbs beneath it, squeaks and grunts heightening in their insistence. “Okay, okay. M’a get ‘er.” Daryl cradled the baby across his chest, her weight resting on his right forearm so that he could use his left hand to push himself up. Truthfully, he could have simply outstretched his leg and tapped your shin with his boot, but he never was one for making anything easy on himself, was he? 

You contemplated closing your eyes, feigning sleep in order to give him those few moments he had thought were private. Having waited a fraction of a second too long, you were caught blinking up at him just as he began to crouch. “Hey.” The image of his fury was a vivid snapshot seared into your memory. Were things really okay after everything the previous day? Daryl narrowed his eyes, staring almost coldly at you before bouncing Birdie gingerly. 

That was more than likely a no. 

“Bird’s hungry. Ya wanna—” He motioned broadly toward your torso. “Ya can do the thing an’ I can give ‘er a bottle if ya don’t want ‘er ‘round.”

Ouch. 

“Daryl.” You sighed, sitting up with your sleeping bag pooled around your waist, only then registering the other voices and sounds. Everyone was already moving about. You had been so transfixed on the moment between father and daughter that you hadn’t noticed. “Of course I want her.” You reached upward before withdrawing. “Do you want to feed her?”

“Wanna do everythin’ for ‘er.” He replied without missing a beat. “But she needs ‘er mama too.” He said while adjusting the baby to support her properly as he waited for you to make a decision. 

“I’ll feed her and then pump what I can so you can feed her next time, okay?” He jerked his chin in agreement. Shedding your jacket, you pulled one arm from your sweater and unclipped the bra. The fact that he turned his head when your breast was exposed unearthed so many emotions, bile creeping into your throat. 

“A’ight then.” Daryl offered the squirming bundle, softly shushing her in such a way that made your heart melt, the puddle of it aching in waves. With a forward tilt on his knee, he helped support Birdie’s head while you adjusted her at your breast, his fingertips brushing against the outside curve of your skin. The gentleness in his expression toward Birdie turned pained, his gaze averting quickly as well as his hand. “M’a go see if there’s anythin’ I can get for some meat.” 

Bracing the baby firmly with one arm, you leaned to clasp Daryl’s wrist, flinching when his attention snapped toward you. For so long, you had been prominent in your belief that he would never hurt you. Now? After his words from the day before? Your faith had waned.

“You could stay.” The way your voice vibrated, the words stuttering off your tongue, was awkward. Even through the rough patches, you had fought boldly to hold on to the woman you had been, the one that had filled your father with such pride. If he could only see you now. You had cried, begged, and made decisions that would have had him turning his back on you in shame. 

Daryl didn’t appear to know how to respond, to neither your words nor your touch. His eyes flickered from your fingers to your eyes and back again, blue pools so deeply betraying his uncertainty and confusion to a level so bare that you feared he would lash out. When he didn’t, when he remained stock still and silent, it occurred to you that maybe he didn’t know how he was supposed to react. 

That was it, wasn’t it? He knew you weren’t trying to hurt Birdie. He understood you were only trying to maintain a measure of safety, that what you were doing was something you didn’t want to do but felt you had to do it. 

On the opposite side of the same coin, the thought of your capability to consider such a method had awoken a fear in him, memories of a time when he had been defenseless. In the face of that onslaught, he did the only thing he could do to protect his daughter. He had run. 

You weren’t dealing with Daryl’s anger. 

You were dealing with his pain. 

That made the situation no less volatile. A vulnerable, confused Daryl was not the easiest version of him to manage. Honoring your theory, you allowed your fingers to loosen. It was important for him to have some sort of control and you would grant him that. 

“I’d like it if you’d stay here with us.” 

His eyes narrowed. Daryl was far from clueless. He could sense the shift in the atmosphere, but an opening had been left for him, a way to retreat. A sliver of tension melted from his muscles, you could feel the taut tendons relax beneath your touch. 

“A’ight.” He rasped, unceremoniously tipping back onto his ass. You weren’t sure if the space he left between the two of you was intentional. It didn’t matter. He had chosen to stay, the implications of that decision still unclear.

Your smile was a tight line, gaze lingering on him for a moment before you looked down at Birdie, her eyes heavy-lidded as she suckled, little hand wrapped around Daryl’s finger. When had he reached over? Her skin was so pale in comparison, soft and delicate where Daryl’s was tan and calloused. Those hands were so gentle with your daughter. With you. 

You longed to return to that time, when it was all new and a path was being carved toward a future together. Would you ever be that way again? You had to try. For Birdie and for the sake of your own heart. 

“I’ll never make a decision about her again without talking to you.” You blurted without looking away from the tender moment. There was an unnerving silence that awoke a nauseating fear inside you. “Please talk to me.” You continued to avoid meeting his eyes. “I’m not willing to lose this—us.”

“Ain’t losin’ nothin’.” 

Your head snapped up to find him watching you, expression hard and wary. “I’m—you’re not—”

“Nah.” Daryl shook his head and sniffed, rubbing his cheek against his shoulder as if alleviating an itch that may or may not have been actually there. “Just—I dunno.”

You wanted to tell him you got it, that you understood, but you didn’t. You couldn’t possibly. His trauma was wound so deep within the tendrils of his soul that it was possible some had become permanent, never able to heal. He would need to work through this, but he wouldn’t do it alone. You could still support him. Not understanding didn’t mean not caring. 

“I love her, Daryl. I was—I am—struggling, but I love her and I’d never hurt her.” You blew out a breath through pursed lips, holding his gaze despite the myriad of feelings that stirred behind your ribs. “I love you.”

He blinked fast, his eyes wet. He sniffed again, his jaw ticking as he looked away, side to side, up then down, anywhere but at you. “Y/N, I—”

“Hey, Daryl?” You turned to glare over your shoulder at Glenn. He was looking straight up, likely to avoid seeing your breast even as Birdie had the nipple sealed between her lips. One day, the lovable idiot would learn to read the room. “You think you can could go see about some game? I know it’s cold, I know, but we could use—”

“No, he can’t.” You snapped with a little more vexation than you had expected or meant, but from the way the man flinched and started backing away, your point had been made. 

“What’d ya do that for?” You found Daryl’s angry eyes awaiting you when you turned around, though he was working hard to heat the pointed glare. “Can speak for myself.”

The sigh that left you was nothing less than exasperated. “I know you can but we,” you freed a hand from beneath your daughter to gesture back and forth between her and yourself, ��need you here.”

He was at war with himself, that much was obvious, blue orbs flitting back and forth. He had responsibilities tearing him in two, his duty toward the group in the throes of a never ending battle against his commitment to you and Birdie. You thought he would give in to the demands of Rick and the others, and you couldn’t fault him. Your heart sank when he stood and moved out of your view. 

“Daddy’ll be back, baby girl. He’s just going to—” The weight of a blanket settled across your shoulders seconds before Daryl lowered himself to sit at your side, his hip and shoulder pressing against yours. He didn’t smile, still tense and circumspect, but leaned closer, nearly resting his head against yours so he could stroke the baby’s cheek. 

“Told ya I can speak for myself.” He huffed. “And m’gonna stay right here.”

[magnoliasandarson]

ice and stone, deadweight redux

In an odd sort of self-punishing way, Jason Todd liked to visit his own grave.

When he first "came back" he had half-crawled back to the unforgiving stone and thrown up, hysterically panicking when his mind told him it was dirt leaving his lips. He had wept and screamed until his voice gave out, trapped in a hellish loop of warring phantom sensations. One second, he was burning alive- the next, suffocating on icy mud.

But that was then, and this is now.

Now, he had once again been unable to keep his cool at a Wayne family function. Now, he had shattered an expensive-looking crystal glass in his fist and stormed out of the formal dining room. Now, he was a monster to them again. Merry-fuckin-Christmas.

So, here he sat, perched six feet over where his corpse once lay, and mourned the boy that should exist instead of him.

It was oddly festive in the cemetery. Blood-red poinsettias and fragrant garlands adorned every other monument, with little LED candles glimmering here and there. The rubble of Sheila Haywood's marble gravestone sparkled in the reflection of bright city lights—like twinkling stars shining accusingly over at him. Sue him, but Jason had taken a crowbar to her marker almost immediately after arriving in Gotham.

He stared at the epitaph: Rest in Peace. There was crystal from his glass still embedded in his hand, glittering like diamonds amidst the rivulets of blood leaving his palm. His eyes followed the journey of the shimmering scarlet over his thigh and down to the powdery snow under him.

He didn't really remember crawling out. The pits had taken away the brunt of the scars, but there were still white lines traced into the tan skin of his hands. He didn't care to think about how deep the scarring must have been for it to stay.

Jason found himself trapped, staring at the red flowers blooming beneath him. Some part of him wondered if the blood would find its way to the wreckage of his casket, to the gore he'd left in his wake so long ago. Logically, he figured Dick would wander over soon, once he got done yelling at Bruce and arguing with Damian.

He never guessed it would be Tim.

"Hey," Jason would never in a million years admit it, but he was privately a little pleased that Tim had come looking for him. He had fucked up so spectacularly with his brother, had given him every reason to despise him- to want him dead, and yet, here Tim was. Awkwardly standing just on the other side of Jason's headstone, face pinched like he'd eaten an especially sour lemon.

Jason tilted his head up, something in his neck cracking as his chin left his sternum, "Sup, Timbit."

Tim looked genuinely pained as he stepped around the grave and lowered himself to sit a few feet away on the snow, "Y'know, just seeing the sights, festive lights, my brother bleeding out in snow- the holiday favorites."

Jason barked a laugh as something in his shoulders loosened, the kid was a bit of a bastard but he was funny, "You get forced to check on the charity case?"

"Drew the short straw, yeah," Tim's face was pale, save for the red coloring his nose, "do you need a med kit?"

Jason Peter Todd; Beloved Son and Friend. Jason's lips half formed the words as he read them over again; when the blood started roaring in his ears, he clenched his fist around the shards- the fresh wave of pain grounding him, "This won't kill me."

"That's not what I asked," the vehemence in Tim's words snapped Jason out of his half-daze, electric teal eyes landing on furrowed eyebrows and a stormy gaze, "Jason, are you okay?"

Jason huffed a weak imitation of a laugh, "Is anyone in this family?"

"This isn't about them," Tim immediately countered, a line on his forehead forming. Jason hated himself for it, for making Tim look like that. This was his little brother, a kid, really, and he looked twice his age because he was forced to babysit the family basketcase.

Jason used his non-gory hand to reach into his jacket pocket and take out a cigarette. "Just tired, Tim," he tucked the unlit cigarette between his lips, lighting it up as he muttered, "That's all—just tired."

Tim's face blurred behind a cloud of smoke, for a moment erasing the unlived age from his features, "You should get more sleep."

"Hypocrite," Jason snapped back with no real heat. It was true; he should have been the one telling Tim to sleep.

The smoke cleared between them as Jason took a long, deep drag. Tim looked half apologetic as he almost whispered, "This family's specialty."

Jason scoffed, unable to stop himself from nearly shouting, "You don't need to tell me that," he pointed his cigarette to the ice-glazed stone before them, "I'm not even a Wayne, Mr. CEO Drake-Wayne." It was cruel, it was mean, but Jason couldn't force himself to care.

Tim's face contorted again, coloring up to his ears with old anger and bitterness. Some cruel part of Jason's mind cheered. Finally, the kid was going to be honest. Go on, yell at the boogeyman who hurt you, tell him to go to Hell. Really end the holiday with a bang. The kid took a long, controlled breath, and evenly asked, "Are you okay, Jason?"

Jason grimaced at the bullshit question, pressing his bloody palm into the scarlet snow as he stood, flicking his spent cigarette at Sheila, "Just dead weight, Tim,"

He turned his back to the boy shivering on the snow, "That's all I ever was."