#I can’t even remember if I’ve seen this before or nah but I know this just blew my mind

[fumifooms]

Aaaah Chimoe Kiyota, Trigger staff, as part of a Trigger live drawing stream, drew this! Found it on weibo here with some more close-ups.

Positive Toshiro-Marcille interaction ayyo oh my god?!! Coming across a crane game at an arcade or in some mall, just hanging out? She’s pointing at the walking mushroom plushies saying Falin likes/would like them. Is she giving him pointers? "Let’s win a plushie for Falin together"? Has he even ever played a crane game before, yay or nay? That’s adorable help

[hoshifighting]

seungcheol as a sugar baby!

— WARNINGS: sugar mommy x sugar baby relationship, smut, semi-public sex, elevator sex, fingering while driving (don't do it), office sex, hesitant cheol. — (Seventeen as Sugar Baby's Series)

it started with a laughable idea—a ceo and a sugar baby. who would’ve thought? but you saw something in seungcheol, beyond that stubborn pride of his, beyond the way his jaw clenched every time you handed over those thick stacks of cash. he hated it, you knew. it burned him inside to take your money, but he needed it, and more importantly, he wanted to succeed on his own.

“i don’t need you to do this, y/n,” he’d grumble, fingers brushing yours as you slid the envelope across the table. his voice was always a blend of annoyance and gratitude, as if saying thank you would taste like sand in his mouth.

“shut up and take it,” you’d say, rolling your eyes, hiding the way your heart picked up speed whenever his fingers lingered on yours just a little too long. “it’s an investment, remember? you’re gonna make it big, and then you’ll pay me back with interest.”

he never knew that you were already invested, not just in his company but in him. you’d been silently funding those little bursts of success he’d had—the ones he’d been so damn proud of. “i got another client today,” he’d say with that boyish grin, chest puffed out like he was on top of the world. it made you happy to see him so excited, even if the real reason for his sudden growth was because of you.

he wasn’t stupid, though. he’d show up at your place, dressed in clothes that you knew cost him a small fortune, and bring you gifts that screamed of desperation to impress. “i got you something,” he’d say, almost shyly, as if he wasn’t sure if you’d like it or not. and of course, you’d always smile and take whatever it was—a designer bag, an expensive watch, anything to make him feel better about taking your money.

“you know you don’t have to do this, cheol,” you’d tell him, pulling him close, your fingers trailing down his chest. “i just need you.”

he’d laugh, shaking his head like you were talking nonsense. “can’t let you spoil me without giving something back,” he’d mutter, lips brushing against your neck, making you shiver.

the day he showed up with a fluffy white puppy, though, that was when you knew it had all gone to hell. you took one look at that tiny, trembling thing in his arms, and your heart fucking melted.

“you serious?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady, even as the puppy wiggled its way into your arms.

“you like it?” he asked, and there was something in his eyes, something soft and vulnerable that you hadn’t seen before. “thought you could use some company when i’m not around.”

you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face, couldn’t stop the way your chest tightened with something warm and dangerous. “it’s perfect, cheol,” you whispered, your eyes locking with his.

that was it. you were gone. totally fucking in love with him. and the crazy part? he felt the same way.

“you know,” he said, scratching the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at you, “this thing between us…it’s not just about the money anymore.”

“no shit,” you shot back, your tone teasing, but your heart was pounding. “you think i’m in this just to throw cash at you?”

he laughed, the sound rich and deep, and it made you weak. “nah, i know you better than that.”

seungcheol wasn’t just playing the part anymore; he really knew you. it showed in the way he’d show up at your office whenever you were in one of those moods—pissed off and ready to tear someone a new one. you’d barely have time to close your laptop before he’d be there, locking the door behind him with that smirk on his face.

“you know what you need?” he’d say, already undoing the buttons of your blouse as he walked over to your desk, that swagger in his step making your breath hitch.

“cheol, i’ve got work—” you’d start, but it was a weak protest, and you both knew it. the moment his hands were on you, all coherent thoughts went out the window. he’d push you against your glass table, cool surface pressing into your bare tits as he yanked up your skirt.

“let me handle this,” he’d whisper in your ear, and that was it. you were done for. his fingers would find your core, already slick and ready, and the way he’d fuck you right there, leaving imprints of your heated body on the cold glass, would make you forget why you were angry in the first place.

and of course, he’d clean up after. every trace of your reckless encounter wiped away like it never happened, leaving you to pull yourself together and face the world like the unshakeable ceo everyone believed you to be.

but it didn’t stop there. the way he took care of you was relentless, even when you were driving home. he’d slip his hand between your thighs, fingers finding their way under your skirt, teasing you, pushing you to the edge. the car would swerve slightly as he played with you, and he’d chuckle, leaning over to take the wheel when your body shuddered with release. “focus on driving,” he’d tease, but the way his fingers stayed inside you, lazy and possessive, told you he loved watching you lose control.

and then there were the nights he’d show up at your place unannounced. he’d wait until you were on a call, talking business, before pulling you into his lap, lifting your hips just enough to slide his cock inside you, slow and deliberate. he loved testing your resolve, seeing how long you could keep a straight face while he fucked you slowly, making you squirm on top of him, trying to keep your voice steady.

sometimes, he’d wake you up in the middle of the night, slipping into bed beside you, his hands already working you open, kissing your neck, your back, until you were moaning into the pillow. “needed you,” he’d whisper, voice husky and laced with sleep, but you knew that wasn’t the whole truth. he needed you, yes, but you needed him just as much.

he even had a habit of pulling you into the private elevator in your building, pressing the emergency stop button just to have you to himself for a few more minutes. you’d be pinned against the mirrored walls, his hands all over you, mouth on yours, devouring every moan that slipped out. the ride would resume as if nothing had happened, but the way your clothes were a little more rumpled, the way your lips were a little more swollen, would always be a reminder of just how far gone you both were.

[cameronspecial]

Rafe and reader - enemies to lovers

Protective!rafe with innocent!reader

She asks her best friends brother for help when she’s in trouble!

Safe In The Arms Of The Enemy

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Fear of Being Followed and Walking Home Drunk Alone

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.2K

Masterlist

Y/N and Sarah have been best friends for as long as she can remember. Even though Y/N is three years older, they met when she was nine and Sarah was six. The two of them just clicked and they have been thick as thieves ever since. This led to their families growing close together. The Camerons were always so nice to Y/N; everyone except for Rafe. For some reason, he has always been bothered by Y/N and she reciprocates that feeling because his hate provokes her.

The music in Sarah’s room blares through the speakers while Y/N stands in front of the mirror, singing along to “Stressed Out” by Twenty One Pilots. She is sleeping over at the Camerons' house to keep Sarah company. Ward, Rose and Wheezie are on the mainland for Wheezie’s spelling bee and Rafe is who knows where. The girls had grown peckish, so Sarah offered to get some pizza, leaving behind her best friend at Tannyhill by herself. “Wish we could turn back time. To the good old days. When our mama sang us to sleep, But now we're stressed out.” Her right hand forms an o as she uses it as a microphone. Her focus is on her own reflection, so she doesn’t notice Rafe’s appearance behind her. He leans against the door frame with his arm above his head. “Wow, you would think with how rich your parents are that they would pay for singing lessons for you after hearing you screech like a banshee,” he teases. 

Her eyes roll in their socket and she turns to face him. She fires back, “Like I care about your opinion. I’ve seen your tastes and I’m glad that I’m not up to your standards.” “Whatever,” he grumbles. “Obviously you are blind because I have amazing tastes.” 

“Nah, I’m not the problem. You are,��� she pushes to infuriate him. She steps forward and they are face to face. He crouches down so their eyes meet, “I wish I was the one with the problem because then I wouldn’t have to deal with you. I swear every time I see you at my house, which is all the time, I wonder when you are going to get the fuck out of my life because I hate that you are in it.” 

His words don’t meet his eyes, but she doesn’t notice. Instead, her mind takes the words to heart. A poke attacks her heart and it causes a tsunami of blood to come out. She can’t explain why she takes the word to heart; she returns the sentiment. Nevertheless, maybe she doesn’t feel as strongly as he does because as much as she loathes him, she couldn’t imagine her life without their quipful exchanges. He sees her tight lips and her silent demeanour; guilt flashes through him.

Before he can try to resolve the situation, Sarah passes behind him with a steaming pizza in her hand. “Ugh. Rafe, leave her alone. I would like to eat in peace,” she complains, setting the flat box on her desk. His hand runs over his lips as he thinks. “Fine, I don’t care. Later losers.” 

———

The ending of summer means Rafe and Y/N have to return back to UNC. When she found out he was going to the same university as her (she should’ve seen it coming because Ward is an alumnus), she hesitated to accept her position; however, she figured uni was a big place and the chances of running into him were slim. It has been true for the most part. They’ve only run into each other five times in the two years they have been at university.

She stumbles through the dark street with her head pounding. It wasn’t the best idea to be walking home alone while drunk, except she didn’t want to make her friends go home early. She lied to them and told them another friend was picking her up. Her feet catch on the pavement and a rock skips across the ground. A car passing beside her causes her to jump away from the road. Her inebriated state makes her more paranoid. She lets out a breath when the taillights fade into the distance. Laughter coming from behind her causes her to spin around. She spots men walking in her direction and even though they don’t appear to be looking at her, panic sets through her. She begins to walk faster as her breathing starts to get faster and she decides to run into an alley to hide. Her first thought is to call to help, so she pulls out her phone and dials the first number that comes to mind. “What do you want?” he grunts through the phone. “Rafe, I’m scared. I don’t know what to d-” She hears footsteps coming closer to her and hangs up. A trash can seems like the perfect cover, so she drops behind it against the wall. 

Rafe sits up straight from the couch and stares at the phone. The screen showing that the call has been ended makes him grow anxious. He begins to pace as he tries her phone again. His hand runs through his hair while he replays the fear in her mind. He is sent to voicemail and wants to through his phone against the wall. Another thought comes to mind and he decides against it. 

———

She doesn’t know how long she has been behind the garbage with her head pressed against her legs. She is honestly too scared to move in case those men are still around. It didn’t look like they were following her, but it is better safe than sorry. The alcohol in her system starts to affect her state of consciousness and she struggles to keep her eyes open. A hand on her back causes her to scream and jump back. Her head hits against the brick wall. She grimaces as she brings her hand up to rub the back of her head. “It’s okay, Sweetheart. It’s me, Rafe.” The familiar voice makes her look up to verify his identity. 

She sees his mop of dirty blonde hair and his stunning blue eyes stare back at her. She has never been so happy to see him. Her arms wrap around him to pull him against her, “I was so scared. Are they still out there?” She surveys the street once they separate. His hand cups her cheek to check her for injuries; he isn’t concerned about their surroundings. “Sweetheart, there is no one around. Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did someone do something to you?” He frowns at the last part, following her search with a hard expression to find the person he has to defend her against. She doesn’t find anyone and her shoulder drops in his hold. Her head rests against his chest. Tears begin staining his shirt. His hand laces between the hair at the nape of her neck and he gently scratches her scalp. He knows it soothes her. He kisses her forehead, “I’ve got you. You are safe.” For the first time tonight, Y/N feels safe and she is in the arms of her enemy.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura @rubixgsworld

[dixons-sunshine]

You Are My Sunshine | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

*GIF isn't mine*

Summary: Being pregnant was a challenge, and being pregnant in an apocalypse came with a whole set of challenges on its own. Luckily, you had Daryl to take care of you, even if he was a little bit overprotective.

Genre: Fluff

Era: Alexandria, post Saviour war, pre the building of the bridge.

Warnings: Swearing, probably other things I can’t think of right now.

A/N: I don’t really know if pregnant ladies not being allowed to lift heavy things is factual or not. I just remembered someone telling me once that it could be harmful for the unborn child, and I’ve seen it being mentioned in movies and shows before, so I went based off of that. If it isn’t true, please pretend that it is for my sake lol.

“I know ya can, but it dun’ mean ya have to. Ya need’a take it easy.”

“Daryl, I'm perfectly capable of carrying it myself, you know.”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, a small smile spreading over your face. “Dar, I have to do something. I can’t let everyone else do everything while I sit on my ass all day.”

“Yer pregnant. I ain't lettin’ ya overwork yerself. Anyone have a problem with that, let me know and I’ll handle ‘em. I ain’t lettin’ anythin’ happen to our baby jus’ ‘cause some people can’t pick up the slack and ya have to do their work for ‘em.”

“I highly doubt carrying one crate is gonna do anything,” you stated matter-of-factly, walking at a steady pace beside the archer while he was carrying the crate in question back to the pantry.

“Ain’t riskin’ it,” Daryl retorted with a sense of finality, pushing the crate onto one of the shelves before turning to you. He took a step towards you and placed a gentle hand on your growing bump, looking at you with a soft expression. “Ya and this baby, our baby, are the most important people in the world to me. I ain’t lettin’ nothin’ happen to the two of ya. If that means carryin’ a crate so that ya can rest or fightin’ off a herd of walkers so that yer safe, so be it. I’d do anythin’ for you and our lil’ one.”

You smiled softly at the archer you’ve grown to love above everything else. You leaned forward to press a quick, gentle peck on his cheek before leaning back, giggling at the bashful look and blush that coated Daryl’s face from the small action. “Sorry,” you said with a light laugh, aware of his feelings towards public displays of affection. “You’re just too adorable sometimes, you know that?”

That elicited a scoff from Daryl. He withdrew his hand from your bump and stepped back, ducking his head down to let his hair hide the growing blush on his face. “I ain’t adorable,” he retorted quietly.

“You are,” you responded with a light laugh. “There’s nothing you can say that’ll change my mind about that. You, Daryl Dixon, are adorable, sweet, caring and so much more. There honestly aren’t enough adjectives in the dictionary to describe how perfect you are to me.”

Daryl scoffed again. He shook his head at you, but you could see his mouth twitch up into a small smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Nah,” he started, glancing at you through the hair that hung in front of his eyes. “Yer the perfect one. ‘M lucky to call ya mine.”

“Don’t start with me, Dixon. We can go back and forth about who’s more perfect all day,” you joked, successfully gaining a small chuckle from him in response.

“Alright,” he started, taking a step forward to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “I ain’t about to start an argument with the pregnant lady.”

“If that’s the case, does that mean I can help out with the tasks around here?” you asked, batting your eyelashes up at him innocently.

Daryl scoffed and shook his head. “Nah, that I ain’t lettin' happen. I was talkin’ ‘bout petty arguments. Ya need to take it easy and rest. Leave the work to the people who ain’t got unborn babies in their bellies they have to worry ‘bout.”

“Daryl—” you started, about to voice your protest, but the archer cut you off.

“None of that,” he stated with a shake of his head, his tone stern. “Ya remember the times ya wouldn’t let me do much to help out when I was hurt? I could help jus’ fine then too, but ya were worried ‘bout me and takin’ care of me. Let me take care of ya now, alright? Ya have more at stake here than tearin’ a few stitches.”

You pondered over his words for a few moments, hesitantly nodding after a few seconds. “Alright,” you finally agreed with a small sigh. “I haven’t really been getting much sleep these past few days. I guess I can go take a nap or something if that’ll make you feel better.”

“Hey,” Daryl started, taking one of your hands in his. “This ain’t ‘cause I think yer incapable to help out or somethin’. I know ya can, but I would feel better knowin’ yer not accidentally overworkin’ yerself. I’ve seen it happen before. Ya’d get so focused on a task and would overwork yerself without even knowin’ it. I dun’ want that to happen to ya right now.”

“Okay,” you nodded, willing the feelings of being useless away at the archer’s reassuring words, knowing he spoke nothing but the truth. “But the moment you guys desperately need an extra pair of hands, promise me you’ll come get me?”

Daryl nodded half-heartedly, and you could tell that even if he promised he would, he probably wouldn’t come get you. He’d put yours and your baby’s safety above everything else, even at the cost of a few extra hours of work for him and the other Alexandrians.

You leaned up on your toes to press a feathery light kiss to his lips before withdrawing. You gave him a smile before turning to walk out of the pantry towards the home you shared with him. As soon as you reached the front door of your home and pushed inside, you shrugged off your jacket and kicked off your shoes, discarding them by the table next to the entrance. You looked at the expanse of the quiet house and sighed, knowing you’d be alone until the sun started to set.

Well, you thought to yourself, I might as well make the best of my time alone. You went towards the kitchen to get a glass of water before descending up the stairs towards your room. You changed into something more comfortable before settling down on the bed, grabbing the book you were busy reading and flipping to the page you were busy with. You absentmindedly placed one hand over your stomach, the other holding the book as your eyes started to trail over the words on the page.

After a while, the words on the page started to blur together. You blinked repeatedly, hoping to clear your vision, but to no avail. Your eyes fell closed on their own accord, and within a few moments, you were asleep.

The feeling of the bed dipping beside you awoke you from your slumber. You opened your eyes and brought one of your hands up to wipe the sleep out of your eyes. When your vision cleared, you locked eyes with Daryl, the man having a faint, soft smile on his face.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake ya,” he apologized, bringing a hand up to brush the stray hair back and away from your eyes.

“It’s okay,” you reassured him, bringing yourself up to a sitting position. You grabbed the book that you had read before falling asleep and placed it on your bedside table, before shifting your attention back to the archer.

Daryl was seated on the edge of the bed, busy pulling his boots off of his feet. When he was done, he laid back against the headboard, bringing his legs up to rest on the bed. His shoulders were slightly slumped, his posture giving away how tired he was. You furrowed your eyebrows at that. The workload hadn’t been that much that day, and as soon as the people were done they could return to their homes, so you couldn’t understand why Daryl looked so tired. Unless...

“Daryl,” you began softly, instantly catching the archer’s attention. “Did more work come in while I was here at home?” Daryl’s silence was enough of an answer. “Daryl—”

“S’fine. Nothin’ we couldn’t handle. Jus’ some buildin’ materials Maggie and the King sent us from their communities to fix up more houses. Rick wanted to get started on the repairs today, so Aaron and I got some people together to start.”

“Daryl,” you started, shaking your head. “I told you that if you needed an extra pair of hands to come and get me.”

“Nah, we were fine. Ya clearly needed the rest.”

“But—” you started to retort, but Daryl cut you off instantly.

“Michonne told me that really heavy liftin’ ain’t good for a pregnant lady. Said it can hurt the baby, so I didn’t want ya carryin’ logs and other heavy materials around. The rest of us can handle that.”

“When did you talk to Michonne?” you asked skeptically, your eyes narrowing in suspicion.

A sheepish look graced Daryl’s features. He avoided your gaze and instead focused his eyes on the bedsheets. “About a week after we found out that yer pregnant,” he admitted, nervously chewing on his bottom lip. “I was askin’ her and Carol what I could do to help make yer pregnancy easier, what would help with yer mornin’ sickness and what ya should avoid doin’, and she told me that ya needed to refrain from liftin’ heavy things. Said it could harm the baby.”

“So that’s why you’ve been so against me helping out around here?” you asked, earning a nod of confirmation from Daryl.

“Yeah. Most of the work we gotta do ‘round here involves heavy liftin’, and I didn’t want ya accidentally hurtin’ yerself or our lil’ one ‘cause of it. That’s why I’ve been so adamant about ya takin’ it easy,” he confirmed, ducking his head in embarrassment. “I didn’t wanna be overbearin’, but ya really wanted to help out with everythin’ and the thought of somethin’ goin’ wrong ‘cause of all the hard work we have to do was too much for me to handle. M’sorry.”

You gently grabbed Daryl’s hand, bringing it up to softly kiss his knuckles. “Why are you sorry? For not wanting anything to happen to me or our baby? You don’t have anything to apologize for. If anything, I should be apologizing.”

“For what?” Daryl asked confusedly, intertwining your fingers with his.

“For being so adamant about working. I just... I didn’t want to feel useless. I didn’t want to feel like a burden because I couldn’t help out.”

Daryl’s eyebrows furrowed, his lips pressing together tightly. “Yer not a burden. Dun’ ever think that. Yer carryin’ a life in yer belly, and that’s takin’ up most of yer energy and time. If anybody has a problem with the fact that ya can’t work as hard as ya used to for the next few months ‘cause yer pregnant, let me know and I’ll beat their ass.”

You smiled at him and pressed a kiss to his lips. When you pulled back, you could feel tears starting to form in your eyes. Daryl noticed it and frowned, concern lacing his voice.

“What’s wrong?” he asked frantically, bringing his hands up to cup your cheeks gently. He wiped away the tears that fell with his thumb.

“Hormones,” you said simply, laughing through your tears. “I don’t even really know why I’m crying.”

“C’mere,” Daryl said, wrapping his arms around you and guiding you to lay your head down on his chest. You shifted your body until your were comfortable, wrapping your arms around him as you listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Daryl’s arms wrapped around you, one of his hands venturing down to your baby bump. He gently started to caress your stomach, his hand’s soft movements making you sleepy almost instantly.

“M’sorry for bein’ so overprotective,” Daryl voiced after a few moments of silence, placing a gentle kiss on the top of your head.

“And I’m sorry for being so stubborn. I promise I’ll be more careful and take it easier from now on,” you promised, nuzzling your head deeper into his chest.

“Thank god,” he sighed in relief. “Any more of yer stubbornness and I would’a been forced to lock ya in the house whenever there was work to do.”

You laughed and lightly hit one of his arms that were wrapped around you, eliciting a chuckle from the archer. “I love you,” you mumbled into his chest.

“I love ya too,” he responded, placing another kiss on your head. "Now get some more rest. I'll be right here when ya wake up.”

You nodded against his chest and closed your eyes, listening to his heartbeat, your own personal lullaby. As your eyes drifted closed for the second time that day, you swore you could hear Daryl start to hum a song. A song you’ve been singing to your baby in your stomach since you found out you were pregnant.

You are my sunshine.

A smile formed on your face as Daryl lowly continued to hum the song, his hand still gently caressing your stomach. With the gentle caress of his hand, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and the song he was humming, you soon drifted into slumber, safe in your archer’s arms.

[starkeyisthelastname]

Rafe as your toxic ex and you were in a secret relationship and now he’s your stepbrother🫣

“Welcome to the family, sis.” Rafe’s voice low as he leaned down to your ear as he took your arm in his. You felt the shiver run down your spine, swallowing hard as the two of you began to walk down the aisle behind your now newly married parents.

You tried your best to stay away from him that night during the busy reception. You actually had been trying to avoid him the entire length of your mother and Ward’s relationship. You couldn’t bring yourself to think about the relationship you both once had. Not as step-siblings but as boyfriend and girlfriend. It was toxic to say the least. Screaming matches, Rafe being too controlling and you not willing to bow down, along with drugs, alcohol and violence.

You couldn’t help but glance at him as he stood at the bar. He looked good. Really fucking good. He looked like a man. His hair was buzzed, which surprisingly fit him in a delicious way. He had filled out in his arms and back as he unknowingly flexed in the navy suit he wore. Your eyes scanned down to his crotch, cunt fluttering around nothing as you remembered the hot and nasty sex you both had. You cursed at yourself for even thinking about him like that again. He wasn’t good for you. He was now your step-brother that you were going to be living with.

You brought your eyes back up, letting out a small gasp when you saw him staring at you. The smirk on his face said it all, as his blue eyes focused on you now with your cheeks turning pink in embarrassment. You quickly down the Cristal champagne in the gold flute, before excusing yourself away back to Tannyhill.

White fluffy towel wrapped around your body and hair still dripping down your back, you walked to your dresser where you grabbed the vanilla scented lotion. You let the towel fall, bending over the fluffy chair of your vanity to rub it into your smooth legs.

“Still got the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.” The voice of your ex said from behind you. You felt your stomach drop, immediately picking the towel back up to cover yourself.

“Rafe! What are you doing in here?” You shrieked. How long had he been standing there?

Rafe walked closer to you, eyes boring into yours as he watched you breathe heavily. “It’s my house and I’ll be in any room I want.” He said, jaw ticking as he leaned down towards your neck. “Why you hiding from me, huh? Acting like I make you nervous.” His voice against your neck.

You couldn’t help but lean into him, letting out a small sigh as he sucked on your neck. “We gonna act like you weren’t staring at my dick at our parents wedding.” He said, traveling his mouth up towards your ear. “Drop the fucking towel.” He spat in a low voice. You froze, only to feel your oxygen being cut off. “Gonna play stupid tonight.. I see.” His hand squeezing your windpipe. His other yanked the towel off, leaving you naked.

His fingers found your cunt, intruding two fingers in your slick hole as you let out a gasp. He knew exactly where to hit your spot in one go, your pussy squelching as he plunged them in and out.

“Ra-Rafe.. we can’t. You’re m-my step-brother.” You stuttered out.

Rafe laughed as if you said the funniest joke. “I know. That’s what makes it all the more fucked up. You think they know I was in your cunt before they ever met?”

You whimpered at his dirty words, the pressure in your stomach growing as you knew you were about to cum. Your eyes squeezed shut, moans leaving your mouth as you started to clench down onto his fingers. That was when you felt him abruptly pull them out, leaving you empty, pissed off and confused.

“You thought you were gonna cum? Nah, you gotta earn my dick back. You ended things with me. Remember sis?” He asked, tapping your forehead with the same two fingers that were inside of you.

[angelliicc]

love warning

“la-la-la love warning, warning me so loud

it doesn’t stop, oh its my love”

masterlist

a/n HI GUYSS! this is my first ever fic i’ve wrote so please be nice. (im an editor yall) if yall want requests lmk and ill do it 😛😛 lowkey wanna write about my past crushes. also, the photos are NOTHING about the fic, its just the vibes it gives me the song/album i write about

warnings none

| “remember, you’re picking me up tomorrow”you and ellie have been friends since you can remember. “yes, i know. don’t worry i won’t leave without you.” ellie commented, dropping you off at home. you guys have grown up together, went to the same school, basically anything. you both have seen each other through the good and bad times and seeing your changes. ellie came out to you a few years ago, accepting her with open arms. you’ve been questioning about who you’re attracted to. you know you like girls, but didn’t know what to label yourself. you came out to ellie a few years back, a little after her. she knew immediately before you even told her.

as you walk through the front door, you greeter your family as you’ve been at ellies house. you could’ve been there longer, but your mother wanted you back since it was a school night. you walked to your room, makeup all cakey, clothes slightly dirty, and hair frizzy. immediately, you walked in and plopped on your bed, like you’ve been separated from your room in weeks. night fell, and you dozed off into a deep sleep. forgetting to take off your makeup, shower, or even change.

you woke up the next morning slightly late, rushing to get ready. you realized about your early sleep the previous night by the looks of your face. you showered, put your uniform on, and did your makeup all within a span of 30. you rushed out the door then arrived at school, heading to the café. you opened the door and saw ellie sitting at a table by herself, looking like she has been waiting for you since the minute you got there. “well you’ve had a morning.” she comments seeing you as you sat across from the table. “i woke up late, shut up. what time did you get here?” you asked, since shes been looking bored until you arrived. “around 30 minutes ago, why?” “no reason. what classes do you have today?” you asked her. you and ellie only had 3 out of 7 classes, which was p.e., math, and biology. even tho 3 was a bummer to both of you, it was still better than nothing. “religion, p.e., english and sports med.” even though you played basketball, sports med didn’t really interest you, maybe later it can. you both went your separate ways, off to your classes

the final bell rang and you were the first person out of the building. it was the end of the day and you were looking for ellie. it was hard to notice her, with a bunch of high schoolers running out of a building just to head home, until you saw her auburn hair. “els, im going home with you today.” she rolled her eyes in a sarcastic way. “once again, i remembered.” you both walk together to the student parking lot going to ellies car. “how was class?” you bring up. “ugh, absolute torture. im so tempted to drop out.” she responded miserably. “if you actually drop out i will beat your ass.” “whatever.” you open the back seat, leaving your stuff in the back. before you can even put your hand on the handle, ellie opens the door for you. oh? you think to yourself. it was probably a friendly gesture, dont read into it.

ellie drives you back to her place. god you can never get tired of being with her or going places with her. you both get out the car and head up to your room. “got homework?” she asks curiously, as if she were up to something. “nah, i finished it at school.” “nerd.” “fuck off.” you both laugh and giggle. you go onto her bed, placing your backpack down. you look at ellie, she looks so…so… you can’t even describe it. but the way she looked in that moment. it made your heart flutter. she sat down next to, crossing your legs. “oh, i forgot to ask you this yesterday.” she mentions. “talking to anyone right now?” the question kinda made you felt lonely. you see everyone with their partners doing the lovey dovey shit, feeling like you will never be able to do that. “oh, no.” you commented disappointingly. “you?” you questioned. “no.” she replied without a care. “why so blue?” she notices your change in mood after she asked. “its nothing, trust me.” “hey. look at me.” she cups your chin and brings it up. your eyes lock, never separating. “talk to me.” you were in a gaze, day dreaming. too distracted by the soft touch of her, and the warmth of her hands. her green eyes that she locked yours with.

the small moment felt like an eternity, and you wish you could’ve stayed there forever. you were so lost you couldn’t even form words, until you were slapped back to reality. “oh. um sorry. its just that i feel like i’ll never find love someday, you know?” you rambled. ellie listened to every word you said, not taking her eyes off you. she looked at you, getting closet with every word you said. she looked at your eyes, then to your lips. you looked at her bright reddish-pink lips. you were so close you can feel each and every breath both of you took. your body temperature rose as the tension grew. you both were too lost into the moment, until something overcame ellie. she grabbed your face, and leaned in for a kiss. she was so, sweet. like strawberry kisses. you grabbed her neck, returning the gesture. you felt her body temperature, and your heart was pounding faster and faster. “i don’t think you’ve known how long i wanted to do that for.” she spoke to you. “i’m glad you did. im so deprived of touch.” you shot back. “oh? is that so?” she said, getting even closer than you two were already were.

she pulled you in again, taking her time making sure the kiss was making you feel comfortable, and not so deprived. your hands were at her waist, enjoying every moment of it. “i love you.” she spoke. “i love you too.”

the warning that keeps warning, let it ring.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for assuming my friend’s boyfriend’s experiences with racism?

This sounds really awful but let me explain.

My friend and I (both 21F) study political science. About two years ago (we weren’t really friends back then) she got together with her boyfriend and they’ve been living together for some time as well. I never really liked him to begin with bc he has a very crude way of speaking and is just generally pretty overbearing. To be fair, I’ve never seen him and my friend arguing in any way and they are really sweet and considerate of each other so I don’t think he’s a bad person, just a little crass. We’ve never really seen eye to eye though so every time we meet we start arguing but it’s always been harmless and only half serious.

Now. The other day my friend and I met to discuss a project we’re working on and her boyfriend was there as well. We had dinner together and somehow the conversation turned towards experiences with racism in America.

For context: I’m black and my friend’s boyfriend is Chinese, I believe he came to the US when he was 16, so about 8 years ago. I don’t know much about his life before that but my friend has hinted that he had a really terrible childhood for various reasons.

Anyway, the discussion turned more and more heated and he said something I didn’t really agree with (I can’t remember what exactly but it was about racial discrimination in healthcare) and I said to him “I can’t believe you of all people would say that” (which I really didn’t think to be THAT crazy of a statement at the time). He completely went off on me, telling me to “shut my bitch ass mouth” with my western saviour complex and going on a tangent about how I knew nothing about his life and how he’d be a thousand times happier in the US than in Shanghai and how I’d be torn to shreds in China, especially the Chinese social networks. He seemed really upset to the point where he almost started crying.

After he was done yelling at me, he stormed out of the room and I left after apologizing to me friend who hadn’t said anything the entire time (which I don’t blame her for, she’s Norwegian and white and wouldn’t really be able to contribute something).

So I’ve been feeling awful this entire time bc I feel like I triggered him really badly or something but it was completely unintentional! My friend has been treating me like always and she told me not to worry but I don’t think I can stop that easily. I’m definitely going to apologize to him the next time I see him, even though idk if I should. So yeah was that really as bad as he made it seem to be? I’ll let you all be the judge of that.

What are these acronyms?

[grippingbeskar]

bad shoulder

frank castle x fem!reader

warnings: adult content minors dni! (mxf, f receiving, nothing crazy) swearing, mentions of canon typical violence

a/n: this is dedicated to and requested by @lemon-world1​ who’s birthday it was a few days ago IM SO SORRY THIS IS LATE but it is here! i hope you had an amazing day, and i really hope this is what you wanted!!!! sending so much love to you. its been a while since i just wrote a lil frank thing and damn i missed it okay bye.

     ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“You got a second?” Frank Castle’s familiar head pokes around the corner of your tent, traces of dried blood still caked in his short hair.

“Always for you.” You sing out, and he smiles, the sight sending warmth all the way through you. You turn to face him, and he isn’t shy about the way he looks you up and down, brown eyes trailing down your body before he remembers himself and focuses elsewhere. You always manage to get at least a little flustered when he comes in— especially when he’s all happy and smiling. He’s impossible not to want, and living on a base in the middle of a battlefield, there’s not a whole lot to do around here but sit and wait for him to show up.

It had been a long day, like it always was. You hadn’t even seen the sun rise before you were called in, soldiers that were never fully recovered still nursing old, aggravated injuries from whatever they’d been doing for the past 12 hours. From bad knees to wasted tendons and shattered bones, sometimes there wasn’t a lot you could do but make them as comfortable as possible and take away some of the pain, even if it was temporary.

Frank could come in and stand in the corner without saying a word and it’d make your day. It was stupid, but it was the truth. He just had that effect on you. It didn’t matter what time of the day it was, he just managed to surge adrenaline through you at the sight of him— you’d nearly forgotten your work the second he stepped in.

“Make yourself comfortable. I’ve got a few things to finish up and then I can help you out.” He nods and thanks you again, and you busy yourself with papers you don’t remember pulling out, trying your hardest to slow your racing heart down to an acceptable rate.

When you turn back to him, he’s already taken his shirt off, sitting with his legs over the side of the table. He’s so tall his boots still plant firmly on the ground, and you know it’s ridiculous— you know, but there’s something about the way he’s just so big—

“Your shoulder still bothering you?” Your brain manages to form words that make sense, while your heart rate is still flying uncomfortably close to a heart attack as he shrugs his shoulders. He rolls them out, each muscle defined and contracting with the movement, and your hands clench at your sides.

“Yeah. Gotta carry some of the packs for the medic on our squad, but it’s fucking killing me.” He rolls his neck next, but with the movement he winces. His eyes squeeze shut and his whole body shudders— the sight switching you from a fumbling mess to a professional in an instance. You know Frank— if he’s coming to you for help, he must be in some serious pain.

“Can’t someone else take the weight? I could write a report, let the sargent know?” You move behind him, the definition of each muscle practically shimmering under the full light of your tent. You peek over his shoulder, and he angles his head just so you can see the genuine surprise in his face.

“You can do that?”

“I’m not just here to hang out with you, you know. I do have a job here.” You laugh, and you can see his body slump a little as he joins you.

“I didn’t mean it like that— but nah. It’s okay. Coopers still got that bug leg, so I just gotta get this fixed.” Typical of Frank, but you’d probably write the report up anyways. It wouldn’t hurt, and Frank would never admit to anyone but you that the pain was genuinely bothering him.

You were the only person he seemed to let himself be vulnerable with, show any kind of weakness with. You’d seen him around base, and knowing what a pissing contest it is out there, it didn’t surprise you that when he found a moment of peace, it didn’t take a a lot for him to open up. You try to tell yourself it’s because he doesn’t have to worry about showing you up like he does everyone else around here, but you can’t help the part of your mind that wanders to the possibility that he might just like your company. Finds it easy to trust you and let his guard down.

“I’m gonna touch you now, okay? Work the same place as last time?” Once you get confirmation, your hands drift over the familiar position, but as soon as you apply pressure he sucks in a sharp breath. “That hurts?”

“It’s fine.” He says through his teeth.

“You have to tell me if it hurts, Castle. Job, remember?” He laughs again, but you can tell he’s still pulling away from you. “It’s okay. We can work up to that. Tell me what happened today.”

“Same old. You know how it— oh, fuck.” He grunts when you dig your fingertips into a spot that you know is connected to his old injury. “How it is.”

“Lay down.” He moves slowly— too slow to be in any kind of working order. You try to take the pressure off his shoulder as he turns to lay face down, but he’s still holding himself up and favouring one side. When he’s finally flat, you start softly, kneading your hands in slow circles around the connecting muscles. You listen to the sounds he makes— low grunts of either pain or pleasure, but both of them send butterflies fluttering in your stomach like no one else.

You start to span your hands down his back, letting the palm of your hand apply more pressure the further away from his shoulder you get. He sighs deeply, and after a few minutes he’s gone pliant under your touch. His head rolls to one side when you drift your hands up to his neck, another low groan escaping from somewhere in his chest.

When he’s finally relaxed, you press further. You check in as your hands slide along the base of his shoulder blade, and you’re only met with a gruff keep goin’ before you return to your original spot. He sighs, shifting closer to your side of the table, and the warmth of his skin touching you in all kinds of places has you blinking rapidly, your vision starting to go fuzzy.

Keeping your mind on the task at hand, you manage to kill a few more minutes like this; gentle circles and soft touches before you decide he’s ready to move.

“You still with me?” You break the silence, and he just huffs like you’ve woken him up. He still moves slowly when he gets up, but there’s no pain there. No— he was just relaxed. Tired, probably, but relaxed. “It’s feeling better than last time. You’ve been doing those stretches I told you about?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Your hands return to his shoulder and apply more pressure. He leans into the touch, head falling forward and sighing again. You ignore how much the response made your head swim.

“Everyday?”

“Yes, ma’am.” God— he was gonna kill you.

“And no more of those sandbag throws, yeah? Or those weighted pull ups?” When you don’t get an answer, you shake him with your hands. “Hey. Don’t fall asleep.”

“M’not. I’m ignoring the question.” You laugh, your hands stilling on his shoulder as you feel the muscle movement ease entirely. “I gotta keep my reputation up, or the new guys get cocky.”

“God forbid— because you are the picture of humble.”

“Damn right.” He leans back slightly, his back brushing against your chest. He doesn’t move when he feels how close you are, and though your hands aren’t on him anymore and the session is clearly over, you don’t move either. “Missed seein’ you.”

“You don’t have to rip your shoulder out of its socket to come see me, you know.” He’s facing straight forward, but every word you say has him shuffling further and further back into you.

“You sayin’ you wanna see me outside here?” He says softly, his head turning ever so slightly towards your own.

“Maybe.” You want to take the words back as soon as you’ve said then, but then he surprises you by turning suddenly, looking you right in the eye.

Your heart stops. Time stops, practically. You know you shouldn’t do this. You need to draw a line in the sand, tell him to move back. To look forward. To leave, even. You were at work, and he was just a… well. He wasn’t just another client— and that was the fucking problem.

He was so close to you, every short breath he took was loud in your ear. You didn’t have to bend to be face to face with him, not with how straight he’s sitting and how fucking close he is. You were at the perfect height to indulge all those fantasies you shouldn’t have, should never act on but God did you want to.

He turns even more, rotating so his chest facing you and his nose brushes against your own. You can’t help the way your eyes flutter closed in anticipation— it was too late to pull away. He was too tempting and he was right there. So close to you, no longer at arms length, and so when he brings one gentle hand to the side of your face, you don’t even think about pulling away.

Your heartbeat was in your ears, sounds of the outside floating away until all you could hear was the pounding of your anxious heart and Franks low, shuddering inhale. Your eyes dare to flutter open for just half a second, and you can see his own flitting over your face— searching for something. Rejection, anticipation, something that he was looking for, but he either finds it or he doesn’t, because whatever it was is enough to have him leaning just a slight inch forward and pressing his mouth to yours.

It’s so slow you nearly faint. Adrenaline is coursing through your veins, and his other hand comes to your hip, drawing you in to press against his warm skin. His tongue glides along your bottom lip, and your mouth opens, wanting to drink him and this moment in as much as possible.

He tastes like dirt and blood, and it’s so fucking addicting that your tongue tangles with his for another taste. He kisses you softer than you imagined, like he’s waiting for you to pull away. You try to bend closer, your hands sliding up into his cropped hair and sealing his mouth to yours. The groan of approval you get is enough for him to lose a little bit of that control. He groans your name into your mouth, and you squeeze your eyes shut tighter. When he groans again your feet leave the ground, Frank hauling you up onto the small table in one swift movement, putting you on your knees next to him.

His mouth never leaves yours in the shuffle, hand tangled in your hair as he gets a little rougher— hungrier for a deeper kiss. The need makes your head spin, and his free hand hooks under your legs to pull you across him, your legs naturally falling to either side of his muscles thighs.

You moan instantly at the feeling, Frank pushing your hips down to connect with his own. Your arms hook lazily around his neck, his own roaming from your hips up and down your sides. He’s languid with the movements, content to take his time to feel your body, fingers slipping under your shirt where goosebumps follow in his wake wherever he touches you.

“Fuck, baby.” He groans into you, and you shudder when his hips buck upwards. It’s almost like he’s encouraging it, wanting you to use him like this, hearing the way your breathless moans get higher and higher every-time he does it. “You like that?”

You can’t form a reply, just nodding as your head rolls to the side. His lips drop down, scorching heat under your jaw and down your neck. You can feel the cool kiss of his teeth as they drag lightly against your pulse point, and at the same time Frank grinds his hips up again. The sensation hits you like a truck, and you’re sighing out his name like a song in the next second.

“Oh, Frank.” You bury your head in the crook of his neck, and he hums in response and repeats the movement. He knows just where to roll your hips, the rough fabric of his pants creating the perfect friction, and a few more minutes like this and you’d be cu—

Three loud knocks on the door nearly make you scream in surprise and frustration.

“Hey, you in there? Any chance you got a couple minutes before rollcall? Need you to work your magic on this knee.” Fucking hell. You knew that voice, and it wasn’t one you could dismiss.

You were panting so hard you couldn’t reply right away, and Frank was just staring at you. His eyes were blown wide— not even blinking as he gripped the side of the table, knuckles white with restraint.

“Y-yep! Just a sec!” You scramble, trying to put yourself back together while Frank sits there, unmoving. You manage to get behind him, throwing Franks shirt at him just before the officer walks in and gets an eyeful of Franks painfully obvious boner. “Colonel Fields! I’m just finishing up with Castle, then I can help you out.”

“Sounds good.” The older man walks into the room, taking a seat in your office chair and nodding at Frank. “Lieutenant.”

You seem to have found your footing a little quicker than Frank, jabbing him in the back to prompt a fucking reply.

“C-Colonel. Ow.” He sucks in a breath as you dig your hands into his lower back pretending to do something productive, but then he sighs and drops his head when you ease up.

He’s as taut as ever, but you go easy on him considering what just happened. What… what did just happen? One second you were joking with him, laughing like friends, and the next you were kissing him. More than that— fuck, you probably would have let him have you right here on the table if he had kept going.

There’s another low, drawn out groan from Frank, and the sound has you pressing your thighs together. It’s the same one he breathed through your kiss when you were on top of him— and from the pained grunt that follows it, he’s remembering it too.

“You alright there, Lieutenant?” Colonel Fields calls to Frank, and you don’t know what his face looks like right now, but clearly it’s not hiding anything very well.

“Fine. Good. I’m gonna— I think I’m good.” He’s off the table in a second, slipping out from your practically outstretched arms.

“I’ll only be a second, if you need to—“ He was already shaking his head before you finished your sentence. Did he not want… Jesus, did he not want to finish what you started as badly as you do? He was walking straight for the door.

“All good. Thanks. I’m— good. I’m good.” He says, not looking you in the eye, and then he’s gone, leaving both you and Colonel Fields confused, and you a little cold.

     ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When you finally drag your body to your room, you feel like you’ve been hit by a freight train. You’ve had long days before, but this one is so much more draining. It’s like your heart has been wrung out and shoved back into your chest, and now you just have to walk around with this squished thing in your body that refuses to work properly.

Yes, you were dramatic. But you had a right to be! Frank had— well, he’d done all that, only to run out of the tent and disappear for the entire day. It’s not like you expected flowers and a proposal, but he was outright ignoring you.

Not so much as a text— no looks in the hallway, nothing. Even when he’d usually catch you for lunch, something that would have been ordinary and in his schedule, he wasn’t there. He could just be caught up with something, but your mind couldn’t help but wander to the possibility that you’d jumped the gun or read the room wrong.

You fell backwards onto your bed, the air rushing out of your lungs in a giant whoosh. You’d been harbouring feelings for Frank for so long, and you’d done so well at keeping them in check and at bay, no matter how many flirty smiles and sweet comments he made. But one moment of weakness— one look too long and too close was all it took for you to crack and have your entire heart and career shatter in one go.

Then you hear it— three soft but sure knocks on your door. When you swing it open, you don’t know if your surprised or expectant.

“Frank?”

“Hey, sweetheart. You gonna let me in?” You hesitate for just a moment, worried what he’s going to say. “I’m freezing my ass off out here. Please.”

You watch him shiver in front of you, and it’s only then you look down and see he’s just wearing boxers and the same shirt from this morning, as well as his combat boots, untied with no socks. You just step out of his way and hurry him inside, noting the snow piled up at your door and how late it must be considering the sun had long disappeared.

“Fucking hell. Its fuckin’ cold.” He says through gritted teeth, and you still haven’t said a word, but hand him a towel so he can dry off the fallen snow resting in his short hair. “Thanks.”

“Why aren’t you wearing more clothes?” The question slips out. Not that you were…complaining. But it was snowing outside.

“Yeah… kinda got caught in the barracks. Didn’t wanna waste time and walk all the way… are you alright?”

“You’re freezing— here.” You hand him one of his old jackets he’d given you months ago, and he takes it quickly, shrugging it over his shoulders. “You dissipated kind of fast. I just… sorry. This is weird. I don’t know what to say?”

“You don’t wanna talk, we don’t have to. I’ll…” He steps forward, a hand hooking under your chin to force your eyes up to him, “I’ll do whatever you want me to.”

“Wanted you to talk to me today.” You mumble and he grunts, shaking his head. “You were avoiding me. I thought you—“

“No, baby. No. Fuckin’ Fields has been on me since I deployed. He’d take any chance to send me home, and anyone I gave a shit about, too.” His hand hasn’t left you, though the other one stays pinned to his side.

“Oh. You— no, that makes total sense. You should definitely of— Of course! Yeah.” You make a complete dick of yourself trying to find a sentence that doesn’t make you sound insecure, and he steps into you, his body like a warm blanket.

“Doesn’t mean I wasn’t thinkin’ about you all damn day.” His breath his hot against your skin, and he presses a kiss under your ear before he continues. “Were you thinkin’ about me?”

“Mhmm.” Your eyes are closed, but you can feel him. Feel his proximity— how his other hand leaves his side and rests on your hip, tugging you into him. There isn’t an inch of him you can’t feel, and the hard lines of his toned stomach tighten as he bends down further.

“You wanna pick up where we left off, sweetheart? Let me show you what I been meaning to do to you since I fuckin’ met you?” Your jaw falls open and you nod again. He takes his chance, groaning your name once more before devouring you into a searing kiss.

He’s unbelievably big, dwarfing your size under neath him as he moves his hands lower and starts to tug at your sweatpants. You shuffle as best you can to help him, but you’re too occupied with the way he’s kissing you to do anything but squirm against him. He’s kissing you like he’s hungry for it, like there’s something desperate and sweet inside of you he’s never had before. It makes your head spin to think he might want this just as bad as you do.

He walks backwards, falling with a grunt onto your bed, tugging you on top of him. It’s the same as this morning, expect now there’s even less between you. Just the thin fabric of your underwear and his boxers seperate you from each other, but he’s no less intense with the way he moves you in slow circles while he licks into your mouth.

“Fuck.” He mutters and pulls himself away, mumbling as he rips your shirt over your head. He kisses you everywhere he can reach— craning his head to press his mouth to your collarbones, down your chest, feeling his hands run up to touch you where his mouth can’t.

He flips you over, your back hitting the soft covers of your bed and crawls over you. His arms cage you in, mouth repeating the motions and tasting your skin further down. He’s so slow about it— hardly even doing this for you. His mouth is as warm as his skin, trailing his way down until his short hair tickles the skin of your inner thighs. You can’t take your eyes off him, how easy he fits himself between your legs, shoulders spreading you open.

He breathes out, setting himself down between your legs, toying with the soft fabric of your underwear. His fingertips are rough, but his touch gentle, tracing the lines of your hips and sending zaps of pleasure up your body.

“So pretty, baby.” The words hit your skin, and you squirm under his hands when they hook under your underwear. He drags them down quickly, your hands toying with the short strands of his hair. Franks eyes meet yours, and you swear he gives you a cocky little smile before he sinks lower and your eyes squeeze shut.

His mouth is on you in the next second, burying himself between you. You feel the warm touch of his mouth swirl around you, arms hooking around your lower half and holding you down. You don’t want to move, don’t want to interrupt the intensity of his touch but you can’t help it— it’s all too much and you want to dive into it. Everything hot and sparkling sizzles up your spine, and you arch off the bed in such surprise when you feel his mouth seal over your clit.

You squeeze your eyes shut harder, a near painful grip on his hair yanking him both into you and away. He’s too strong, too overpowering to even notice your efforts, and you thank God he doesn’t fucking stop. You were whining pathetically now— his name echoing in high pitched in the small room. You feel him smile, your jaw going slack just thinking about what he looks like.

“Keep sayin’ my name— fuckin’ sounds good when you say it.” He leans back only slightly, and you gasp when you feel him lean his head against your thigh. The feeling of him— his mouth fucking wet with the taste of you, feeling the soft puff of his breath against your skin as he catches himself. Then he wraps his arms around your thighs and tugs you down the bed. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“Keep going, fuck—“ You whimper, trying to smooth your hands through his hair in an attempt to be nicer. He grins lazily, and then stares right into your eyes as he spits into your pussy and buried his face into you again.

Everything burns red hot, and your legs clamp around his head as he speeds up. One arm is enough to hold you down, the other snaking up our side and interlocking with your hand. You can’t keep your eyes open— everything going blurry as your eyes roll back and you feel yourself spinning in all directions.

You must say something— his name, maybe, because he groans and flattens his tongue, letting you grind your hips up and into him. If you could manage to open your eyes you’d stare back at him— let him watch as you fall apart in a way only he can break you.

Frank keeps a pace— fucking you with his tongue and swirling around the bud of nerves in such a messy but fiery way that you can’t hold it. Everything gets white hot and your back arches again, fingertips digging into his scalp and hand, and you know it’s cliche but you swear you can see stars.

Frank doesn’t stop, just slows down and works you through the shocks of pleasure that jolt up your core, feeling the way you shudder as you cum in his mouth. When your squirming too much for him to hold you still, he drags his mouth up your body. Again, he kisses his way up, but this time it’s messy. He’s not just kissing— he drags teeth and tongue along your hip bones, marking his way up to your chest and neck. You’ll be covered in the evidence, and you only lean closer, wanting more.

“Fucking hell, Frank.” His hands slide up your sides while yours palm him through his boxers, and he shudders your name. “Fuck, I want you so bad.”

“Do you, pretty girl?” He groans in your ear, and your stomach flips at the name. You bite your lip and nod, staring up at him and he grins. “You liked that, huh?”

“I know something I’d like more.” Blinking innocently, you slip your hand under his boxers and wrap your hand around his hard length. He cuts himself off with a choked gasp, leaning back down and kissing you messily.

You let him take what he wants, pressing his hips into the slow, teasing movement of your hand as you slowly slide his boxers off. The feeling of his skin on yours lights something on fire inside you, and while he’s nearly drunk on the taste of your mouth, you shove him easily onto his back. You’re quick about it, not giving him a second to breathe when you’re sinking down on his cock, earning another long, low groan.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck.” He gasps out, hands gripping your hips tightly. You roll forward slightly, feeling him hit something that makes you shiver, and he helps you chase the feeling. He moves you with no effort, bucking his hips and grinding you in out of rhythm thrusts, his eyes screwed tightly shut like he was in pain. “Oh god, baby don’t stop.”

“Feels good, Frankie.” His jaw goes slack with another stuttered moan of your name, while his hands touch you wherever they can reach. He glides up your stomach, over your ribs, your breasts, until he reaches your face where he hauls you downwards into another bruising kiss.

“Fucking… so perfect. Thought about this… fuck, that’s it. God that’s fuckin’ it.” He slurs between kisses, and he moves faster, rougher as he fucks you dizzy. It’s numbing and electrifying all at once, the grip of his hands on your face forcing you to stare into his half lidded eyes. “Such a pretty girl. Just keep lookin’ at me. Just like that.”

His free hand wraps around your lower back, his name coming out high pitched and drawn out as you call it over and over again. He kisses you, words mumbled into your mouth but the pleasure is too overwhelming— you couldn’t hear anything but the snap of his hips against yours and both of you chasing your high.

He bites your lower lip, drawing you back to him when he feels you tighten around him. He knows you well— he’d know you’re close, and his eyes burn so brightly in front of you that even though he’s got that cocky smirk on his face you still want to tell him how fucking good he is at this. He presses his forehead to yours, holding you against him as he brings you to the edge with a few more strewing, devastating thrusts and you’re gone— screaming his name so loud you know your neighbours will hear.

“Fr-Frank!” Your body shakes as pleasure overwhelms you, and he watches every fucking second of it. He’s right there with you, the look on your face when you cum for him sending him toppling over with you. He’s so warm and he’s everywhere— arms wrapping around you, mouth sealed to yours swallowing every little whimper and moan, cock buried so deep inside you, you know you’re gonna feel him for days.

The room is suddenly quiet, except for yours and Franks in sync breathing. You tuck your face into his neck and he buries you there, strong arms wrapping around your torso and keeping you as close as possible. When you feel his heart beat start to slow, you look up at him to find he’s already staring at you.

“You got no idea how long I’ve been waitin’ to do that.” He confesses, kissing you again. It’s lazy, indulgent and somehow he still tastes so good. It’s addicting, and you find yourself chasing his mouth until you’re breathless again. When he pulls away, he’s panting, shaking his head. “You keep kissing me like that and you’re in for a long fucking night.”

“Just one night?” You want to look away in case it’s not the answer you want, but he laughs, moving you to the side and tucking you to his chest.

“Fuck no.” He groans as he finally slips out of you. You sigh, content for now, and wriggle back towards him, pressing your ass against his hips. He freezes and his breathing changes, sounding very, very controlled. “Baby. Please don’t mess with me right now.”

“Oh, poor Frank. Stuck in bed with a girl. A naked girl. How’s he gonna make it?” Before you can be proud of yourself for the short silence you are awarded, he’s flipping you over and kissing his way down your chest and stomach. When he disappears between your thighs, you cry out his name, and fuck— you don’t think you’d ever get enough of this.

[dadvans]

tease tidbit tuesday

tagged by @tiltingheartand, thank you! from an almost finished Tommy POV

They go surfing. Well, Evan surfs, and Tommy just kind of chills from the beach and gets a nice tan. It’s fun to watch Evan show off. He’s still baby deer nervous sometimes with Tommy, like he’s relearning how to walk, or like Tommy is the proctor of a Good Bisexual test, and Evan’s trying a little too hard to pass. But on the water it all fades away as all the overthinking he does melts off him, riding down the line.

He comes out of the water goofy on endorphins after a few waves and collapses cold and wet from the ocean on Tommy, who is warm and dry on his towel, smothering him with a kiss.

“You sure you don’t want a lesson? I’ve been told I’m a very capable teacher,” Evan says, voice dripping suggestively. “Worked my way up and down a few coastlines, you know.”

Tommy likes this side of Evan when Evan lets it out. Maybe they need to go to the beach more, even if he doesn’t really care about getting in the water. “Nah, I’d be shark bait out there.”

Evan rolls his eyes and zips open his wetsuit, peeling it off so the arms hang loose at his hips. “Chances of a shark attack are less than one in three million. You have a higher chance of getting struck by lightning.”

“Should I be worried about you then?” One of the first things Tommy learned about Evan before he really knew him was that the kid was kind of a disaster magnet. What’s the probability of being bitten by a shark when you’ve already been struck by lightning?

“You don’t need to worry about me, not out there anyway,” Evan says with a gentle tilt of his head toward the ocean. He’s delusional. Tommy likes him so much. “Kind of feel like you might have jinxed a second ride out today though. Wanna get lunch instead?”

They wind up at the good kind of greasy seaside bar. Tommy gets the fish tacos that came recommended, but Evan is making love to an oyster po’ boy with his mouth.

“You know,” Evan says, licking at the mayo clinging to the corner of his lips, “I totally fell for the idea of being a pick up artist when I heard about it in high school. Always tried finding new ways to get with girls. I read up on aphrodisiacs once.”

“Are you trying to seduce me, Evan Buckley?” Tommy asks wryly, staring at the half-chewed fried oyster hanging out of his sandwich.

“Nah, turns out it’s all bullshit. Found that out after I took my prom date to this seafood place and ordered us a dozen raw in the half shell thinking maybe I’d get lucky. I looked up at her after slurping down three of them, and you should’ve seen the look on her face. I thought she was gonna puke.”

Tommy snorts the sip of water he was taking back out onto the bar.

“The only natural aphrodisiac I can think of that isn’t like”—Evan lifts his own beer—“or a party drug is ambergris, which is kind of like whale shit, but not really. It’s illegal in the states though.”

“Evan, I’m eating,” Tommy says, but he’s laughing.

Evan, oblivious, continues, “They say it smells like shit on its own too, but something about it has them putting it in perfumes. I can’t remember what. Can you imagine if I showed up caked in whale shit for a date though?”

Tommy looks at him and Evan stares back, smile half-knowing and all hopeful, waiting for anything Tommy is willing to give him.

Just for that, Tommy doesn’t call bullshit. He says, “You think you’re hilarious,” and Evan shrugs, happily taking another bite of his po’ boy.

tagging: @thekookster @plethoriall @marmolita @al-the-remix @rcmclachlan

[miguelswifey04]

rivals (miguel x spider! reader)

“miguel let go of me! you don’t know what you’re doing!!” you yelled as you put an arm’s distance between the two of you. he had pounced on you and pushed you against a wall, pining you wrists above your head.

miguel’s grip tightens on your wrists, his nails digging into your flesh. he leans down, his voice dripping with aggression and possessiveness.

“oh, i know exactly what I'm doing. don’t you dare try to stop me," he hisses, his eyes flickering with anger. his grip on you tightens, leaving faint imprints on your skin.

“you think you can just help miles? do you really think that little traitor deserves to be saved?" he sneers, his face inches from yours. you weren’t scared of him. nah, he should be scared of the fact you had a grin on your face. a menacing one.

“you think you can do whatever you think it’s right?!” you scoffed while squinted your eyes up at miguel who’s face was inches away from yours. you he hear him grunt and the way his nostrils flared in anger. you kind of liked seeing him angry like this, but you weren’t gonna tell him that.

miguel's grip on your shoulders tightens even more, his face contorting with anger. he moves his face closer to yours, his breath hot against your skin.

“you don't get it, do you?" he growls, his voice laced with frustration. "i’ve seen what miles is capable of. he’s dangerous, and he needs to be contained. i won’t let you be fooled by him."

his words are harsh, filled with a possessive determination. his eyes bore into yours with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. “he’s 15??! what are you? scared of him?” you laughed at his face. you can’t believe he was going ballistic over a 15 year old kid who just wanted to save his own father.

miguel’s grip on your wrists tightens even further, his nails digging into your skin. he leans in closer, his voice low and dangerous.

scared? me? ha! i’m not scared of that little punk. i’m furious. furious that you would throw your lot in with him, betraying everything we had," he seethes, his anger palpable.

the force of his grip makes you wince, but he doesn't let up. his eyes darken with a mix of rage and hurt.

“are you crazy? you must be!” you yelled as he tried to loosen his grip on your wrists but to no avail. his face was super closer and you could feel the way his breath would trickle down to your neck, you gulped thickly.

“you think i’m crazy? maybe i am. but don't you dare underestimate me, darling," he spits, emphasizing the word with venom. "i’ll make sure you understand what it truly means to cross me.”

“i ain’t scared of you.” you laughed as you had just mocked him. oh you definitely shouldn’t have done that.

niguel's grip on your shoulders tightens even more, his fingers digging into your flesh. his face twists with a mixture of anger and frustration, his eyes burning with intensity.

“you should be scared," he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "you have no idea what I'm capable of."

with a sudden surge of anger, he tightens his grip even further, causing you to wince in pain. but before you can react, he releases you, turning away with a dark chuckle.

“fine, if you're not scared, then prove it. make your move. but remember, I always get what I want," he sneers, his words laced with a possessive edge.

…

a/n: part 2 here

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for killing my best friend’s best friend and then pretending to be them?

I(1000s, eldritch) am not human. Most of my - existence, I guess? - has been spent preying on humans both physically and mentally, and for as long as I’ve existed, that’s never been a problem. It’s what I was designed to do, and it wasn’t like I had the capacity to feel emotions like guilt for what I was doing.

Until recently.

Part of the… process, of consuming my victims, involves assimilating them and taking on their outward appearance. It’s how I maintain a physical form in this dimension, it’s a whole thing. (Basically think Invasion of the Body Snatchers, just minus the giant pea pods and plus the horrifying being of shadows and teeth.) Usually, I’ll maybe get a couple of memories from someone’s mind this way to better pretend to be them and avoid suspicion, but- but something went wrong when I tried to assimilate who we’ll call C(18, genderfluid).

Long story short, I have all of C’s memories. And all of the emotions to go with them; basically everything that he was is a part of me now. I remember how she got each of her scars, I remember her favorite color (and I’ve never even seen color before, so that was a shock), and most importantly I remember C’s best friend, M(17, transmasc), who was supposed to be- well, that’s sort of complicated too, but essentially my next victim who I was supposed to get to by using C.

But I didn’t want to kill him. Fuck, I still don’t. Ma- M is my best friend, even if these memories aren’t originally mine. I can’t put into words how fucking guilty I feel for the horrible death I put C through (I remember how much it hurt, by the way), and the countless sleepless nights leading up to it.

I kept up the façade for longer than I thought I would, but ultimately M saw me for what I wa- for what I am, and now they’re (rightfully) terrified of me. And probably more than a little angry, seeing as I’m the one who killed C, too.

I don’t know what to do. Something- something bad is going to happen to M soon, whether or not I’m here for it. I’m supposed to keep them in one place until then, but I don’t want to just be the monster outside of their locked bedroom door, whispering under the door. I don’t want anyone else to have to go through what C did, especially not because of me.

I want it to be perfect like before

Basically, I feel screaming-crying-throwing-up bad about it.

So, AITA?

[hannahssimblr]

On a bright, clear morning, our art class gets permission from the principal to embark on a trip to the park. It’s an exciting prospect to us students, a trek all the way across the road from school, totaling a distance of one hundred metres from the back gates. It feels every bit as exciting as our fourth year school tour to Rome.

It’s cold, but there is the slightest tinge of spring in the air, and though the grass and the earth is damp I find a place to sit nestled among the newly sprouted wild flowers because I think it might be nice to try and draw them, but also because Michelle and Evan were sitting here first and Jen still has me on a mission to befriend them. 

“Pay attention to the colours when you’re doing your drawings today,” Ms. O’Reilly says, “Oftentimes things aren’t as they seem when you really look at them. Yes, the grass is green, but can’t you see yellow there too? Blue in the shade? There’s a whole range of values and hues that you don’t see at first glance, nor will you unless you take the time to really observe and take it all in.”

“That’s how you should think of me,” I nudge Michelle, “Like the grass. I’m not just green, I’m shades of blue and yellow too.”

She rolls her eyes, “Oh wow, so now you’re a poet.” 

“I knew you’d think that, and you know what? It comes naturally to me, I’m just that kind of person.”

I catch her smirking before she turns her face away and pretends to be interested in what Evan is drawing in his sketchbook. “What’s that?” She asks him, and he flips his hair out of his eyes, “the drain. I think it’s more interesting than the trees and shit, you know? Like, that juxtaposition of the man made in the middle of nature.”

I snort, “I take it back, I’m not the poetic one after all. Wow, that’s deep. I never thought of a drain into the sewer in those terms before.”

His shoulders stiffen, “Hey, what are you getting smart for? Didn’t you get detention a few weeks ago for vomiting on the floor in Mr. Doherty’s class?”

I won’t give him the satisfaction of acknowledging his rudeness as such, so I laugh, “Nah, man, rumour. I did throw up, but not on the floor. I was hungover,” A shrug, “What can you do, huh?” 

Michelle huffs out a laugh, “Surprised you didn’t see each other in detention. Jude is the only person I know who has to go more often than you, Evan.”

“I’ve got detention again yesterday” he boasts, and I indulge him, “For what?”

There’s a satisfied glint in his eye, “Fireworks.”

“Where?”

“Just in my locker.” 

“No way,” I let out a squawk of a laugh, “I got caught for that once too.”

He glances around awkwardly, unable to decide if I’m engaging genuinely with him or taking the piss again, “Really?” He says with cautious interest, “When?”

“Oh, like a few years ago. Second year I think, sometime around Halloween, but someone ratted me out,” I jokingly jab my thumb at Michelle who gasps in outrage, “It wasn’t me! Jen and I knew about it but we didn’t say anything! I don’t know who it was.”

Evan rests his pencil on the page, “What were you going to do with them?”

“I hadn’t decided yet.”

“Me neither,” he says, actually smiling, “I was just storing them. Actually, I turned myself in once they made that announcement that someone was seen with them. I didn’t want them going through my locker or anything, like, doing the whole search operation thing.”

“Yeah, who knows what might be in there.”

“For sure,” he goes back to drawing his drain and I begin to sketch in the petals of a crocus flower next to my shoe. After another short moment his curiosity gets the better of him, “Hey, what’s the worst thing you ever got detention for?”

I chuckle, “When I was twelve I set a fire in the boy’s bathroom.”

An incredulous pause, “That was you?”

“Yeah, like, it was an accident though. I’m not an arsonist.” 

“Yeah that was wild,” Michelle muses, “I remember having to keep it a secret, because Jen and I knew but nobody else did. We weren’t even supposed to know it. You remember how the school made us all go to an assembly about it and they brought that fireman in?”

Evan nudges her with his elbow, “You knew who it was the whole time? You never said!”

“I’m a good secret keeper!”

He looks at me with intrigue, “What happened? What’s the real story?”

“So I was skipping class. I used to get really bored in Mr. White's History so I hid in the toilets and then when I was there I guess I realised I didn’t have anything to do. I had this lighter in my bag that I’d found in the yard, so I started lighting little pieces of toilet paper on fire, you know, just to watch them burn up and turn into nothing, but if it got too crazy I’d just extinguish them in the toilet. Anyway, I got carried away and decided to light the whole toilet roll on fire and then,” I shrug, “you know the rest, I suppose.”

“I remember that day so well, do you-” he cackles, “-do you remember how they didn’t replace the toilet paper dispenser for the whole year? It was just this big hunk of melted plastic stuck to the wall of the stall.”

“Really? Nah, man, I didn't go back into that stall ever again. That’s hilarious.”

“You mean to this day? Five years later?”

“Yeah, seriously! I can’t face it, it just brings me right back there, to getting screamed at in the principal's office and then them calling my parents and all…” the jovial spirit in me falters and this memory, “...who, um, weren’t happy about it and all. Uh, but the main thing was that we talked the principal out of expelling me. I got suspended for a week and then a month straight of detention instead, so it worked out okay.”

“And you talked them out of expulsion…?” Evan prompts.

“Oh, you know, I’m just good at bullshitting,” I say vaguely, though the reality was that I sat at the principal’s desk, my body racked with breathless, terrified sobs until I almost puked, snot pouring down my face, swearing on my pre-teen life that it was an accident until they let me off easy out of pure pity alone. 

I concentrate on my crocuses for a while while Michelle and Evan draw too, the three of us in content silence while Ms. O'Reilly walks around the group to look at our work. “Beautiful,” She says of mine, and the compliment fills my insides with such joy and acceptance that I can’t hide it from my face. 

“Who’s the teacher’s pet now?” Michelle mutters as Ms. O’Reilly moves on.

“Jealous?”

“No.”

“Can I see yours?”

“Why, so you can gloat?”

“No, c’mon, I’m curious.” 

She sighs and tilts her sketchbook to me so that I can see the trees she has drawn. She has a soft line, feminine, cautious and a little shaky, but she’s captured the scene nicely, how the spindly, bare branches of the chestnut tree cut through the clouds and frame a hazy February sky.

“That’s lovely,” I say. “Not that I’m surprised, you’ve always been a good drawer.”

She looks at her work doubtfully, “I’m not sure, I think I fucked up the scale of some things.”

“Nah, you’d hardly notice.”

“Hm.”

“When did you change your mind about art school?” 

“Huh?”

“I thought you wanted to pursue it. I remember you saying that a while back.”

She scoffs, “Oh yeah, years ago. It’s not a practical choice though. What am I going to do with an art degree? Work in McDonalds? I think it’s better that I go for something with more prospects like, um, law or business or medicine.”

I smile, “Yeah. Okay. I think that’s your dad talking.”

“That’s what I think,” Evan pipes up, “Don’t I always say it, Michelle? They’re all boring choices, and you are so not boring. You’re a creative soul.”

“Aw, thanks baby.”

It takes all of my willpower to resist pulling a face. Baby? I almost say something about how horrendous it is for me to be subjected to their emo love before I remember that my task is to be nice to them. It’s going so well, I shouldn’t jeopardise it no matter how tempting.  

“Hey,” she spins back to me, “Can I see that drawing you did of me in class? You never showed me in the end.”

“Well, you didn’t ask,” I flip a few pages back and hold it up to her, her own face, a direct, impatient gaze and mouth slightly pursed in concentration. She stares at it like she’s gazing into a mirror. 

“You made me look very pretty,” She decides after several moments. 

I steal a glance at her. It’s not difficult to, because she is very pretty, she’s always been that way as long as I've known her with those deep, dark brown eyes and heart shaped face. It is her personality and attitude in the last couple of years that's the real pity. I smirk, “Well, you know, I appreciate you saying that, because it really wasn’t easy for me…”

“God, you’re insufferable,” she complains, rolls her eyes and turns away.

I go back to my crocuses. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[jujumin-translates]

★ Main Story | Act 13 - Budding Spring | Chapter 24 - Family Wish

Chikage: Well then, take care.

Company Employee A: Huh? You’re not on the same flight, Utsuki-san?

Chikage: I still have a few errands left to take care of, so I switched my flight to tomorrow.

Company Employee A: I see. Well, you were a lifesaver this time. Thank you so much.

Company Employee B: It was thanks to you that we were able to successfully conclude our business negotiations, Utsuki-san. Their attitude towards the whole thing softened considerably compared to when we first asked.

Company Employee B: The power of language really is incredible.

Chikage: I’m glad I could help.

Company Employee A: Well then, we’ll take our leave.

Chikage: Good work.

*Footsteps*

Chikage: (Alright… Just in time to catch the next bus.)

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Chikage: (It’s going to be a while from here, so I guess I’ll get some work done.)

Chikage: …

*Typing*

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Driver: 《Have a nice trip!》

Chikage: 《Thank you.》

Chikage: (I guess he can tell by my outfit that I’m not a local.)

Chikage: (Has it really been almost twenty years…?)

Chikage: (The city really has changed a lot since then. Well, that thing can’t be the same after all this time, right…?)

Chikage: (Anyway, the place where people are likely to gather is…)

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Shopkeeper: 《Welcome.》

Customer A: 《That was so crazy back then!》

Customer B: 《I know, right?》

Customer C: 《Dad, they said it’s still gonna be a while.》

Customer D: 《Let’s just have dinner first.》

Customer E: 《What are we gonna eat?》

Customer F: 《I’m not really that hungry, though.》

Chikage: (How nostalgic. Just sitting here, there’s all kinds of languages being thrown around.)

Chikage: (This is a great place to get some multilingual input.)

Chikage: (If we as a theater company are going to expand our overseas outreach in the future, there’s no better way to do it than to have correspondence in as many languages as possible…)

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Chikage: (If I relax for any longer, I’ll miss the bus.)

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

*Footsteps*

Chikage: (The wall of this vacant lot… there’s even more graffiti than I remember. Was there really that much written on it before?)

Chikage: (It doesn’t seem like it’s gotten any less safe, at least.)

Resident: 《That area’s already all filled up. You’d have to write really small if ya wanted to put something there.》

Chikage: 《Does the graffiti here have some sort of meaning?》

Resident: 《Ahh, so you don’t know? Somewhere along the line, a rumor started goin’ around that if you wrote your name here, your dreams would come true.》

Resident: 《Even tourists started writin’ things here.》

Resident: 《Well, the owner doesn’t mind it, so it all just stays here.》

Resident: 《At first, there were just one or two things written up there.》

Chikage: --.

Chikage: (This is… my name…)

Chikage: (There’s only one person who would’ve done this. There’s no mistaking it, that handwriting is his--.)

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

“Hey.”

“Do you have a family?”

“Do you have a dream?”

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Chikage: …

Chikage: (Dreams coming true, huh? What came first, the rumor, or the name…)

Chikage: (Hah, even now I still can’t figure out what he was thinking.)

Chikage: (Dreams, huh… Maybe the reason I was able to come here was because mine came true.)

Resident: 《Hm? I feel like I’ve seen your face somewhere before… Nah, you just look like an acquaintance of mine.》

Chikage: ?

Resident: 《You kinda look like an old colleague of mine. Your smile, especially.》

Resident: 《He passed away decades ago, though.》

Resident: 《His wife also passed away a few years back due to an illness… I’m pretty sure they had a son, but I think he was sent somewhere far away, or something like that.》

Chikage: 《...I’ve heard that I have distant relatives from around this area, so maybe there’s a connection there.》

Resident: 《Maybe so. If only his wife were still alive… I’m sure she’d be happy.》

Resident: 《A while back, I asked her about her son, and she said she’d probably never see him again, but all she hoped was that he wasn’t alone.》

Resident: 《Lookin’ at you, I feel like I’m seein’ their son.》

Chikage: …

Chikage: (Selfish to the very end.)

Chikage: (I didn’t feel loved by them. Hell, I don’t even know if I love them.)

Chikage: (As a kid, they were like a huge, detestable existence that loomed over me. Even after they left me, no matter how much time passed, they stayed imprinted on me, like a scar that can’t be removed…)

Chikage: (But, I get it now… I never have to look at this name again.)

Chikage: (It doesn’t exist anywhere in this world.)

Chikage: (...I wonder what this feeling is. It’s not really nostalgia, sadness, or relief.)

Chikage: (It’s like one small sense of closure… It feels like it’s fitting into my heart somewhere. Like a book fitting into a shelf where it belongs.)

Resident: 《If you have distant relatives around here, why not visit their graves?》

Chikage: 《--I’ll have to pass since I have a bus to catch. I need to get back to my family soon.》

Resident: 《Gotcha, have a good trip.》

Chikage: 《Thank you very much.》

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Chikage: (...I sort of doubt there will be anyone on at this time.)

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

UC has entered the chat.

UC: I’m on my way to the hotel near the airport now.

taruchi: gg

UC: Ah, I see. We must be fairly close.

taruchi: well, think i’m somewhere between japan and u

taruchi: how’d ur new challenge go?

UC: How indeed. I do know that I’m glad I came here, at least.

[ ⇠ Previous Part ] • [ Next Part ⇢ ]

[rebornofstars]

BEE!! UNO REVERSE!! before the rain stops?? wiggle eyebrows emoji

BEFORE THE RAIN STOPS! ahahahahg. this is the modern au road trip fic, except i didn't want to set it in the usa, so.... it is the australian modern au road trip fic. there's lore. there's shenanigans. they spend about two months on the road. it's absurd and i love it so much.

snippet for you from chapter 1!

“You’re mad,” Warriors said. He stood up. “What are you here for?” Twilight’s easy grin faltered. He worried his lip with his teeth. Time had been trying to break that habit for years. It was almost good to know he’d never succeeded. One less thing that had changed. One less milestone Warriors had missed. “Kid’s in the school band,” Twilight said. “He asked me if I’d get everyone to come to the concert.” “What?” Warriors scrubbed his face. “Wind? Fuck. He finally joined the band? He didn’t tell me, I didn’t know about any concert. When’s it on? It’s not tomorrow, is it? I’ve got a doctor’s appointment—” “Nah,” said Twilight. “End of September.” Warriors gripped the skin on his cheekbones tightly and stared. “September?” “Yeah,” Twilight said. He looked far too pleased with himself. “It’s July,” Warriors croaked. “Yeah,” said Twilight again. “Have you lost your mind?” “Nope. C’mon, you gotta pack, we’re losing the light.” “I hate you,” Warriors wheezed. “What are you on about? It doesn’t take two months to drive to Sydney. And if you just wanna freeload, I gotta break it to you, Lana’s not gonna like that—” “Kid asked me if I’d get everyone to come to the concert,” Twilight repeated. “You gotta pack. My girl’s waiting in the driveway. I left her running.” “Your g—are you talking about that fucking ute again? Go and turn the engine off, your battery’s gonna go flat.” “One and the same,” Twilight said, still infuriatingly calm. “Fixed her up all good. She runs better than the old man’s tractor now. I’ll go outside, you pack, alright?” “Pack for what,” Warriors asked. It was too late. Twilight had disappeared out into the cold night air, screen door bashing on the brick wall as he went.  “What is going on,” he said to the empty room. He began drafting a text. Hey L—no. Hey babe, my half-brother (remember time?) yeah, his cousin—too complicated. My cousin showed up— He put the phone down. No. How was he supposed to explain this when he barely understood what was happening himself? Twilight was a selfish, smug idiot. How could he just turn up out of the blue and expect Warriors to—to go somewhere with him? What was he thinking? They hadn’t seen each other for years. Warriors had skipped out on every Christmas barbeque since he’d moved away.  Kid asked me if I’d get everyone to come to the concert. “No,” he whispered. “No, what the—no. He can’t be—surely not.” Through the front blinds he could see the other man loitering about comfortably in the driveway. The ute was smaller than he remembered. A matte-brown, rickety thing. Twilight had bought it second-hand off a mate in high school for about a grand and spent the next few years replacing parts obsessively until it was almost a new vehicle. He’d been worried about the suspension when they spoke last. That and the fact that the oil cap was mysteriously leaky. He can’t seriously think— The screen door slammed again. Warriors’ legs propelled him down the driveway before he even had time to think. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. Tell me this is not what I think it is.” Twilight grinned winningly. He held out a half-eaten apple. Where did he get an apple? Why— “Why are you like this?” Warriors begged. “No, put that away. I’m not touching that, you’ve had your mouth on it. Two months. And the others are all over the place. You want to make this a road trip. You want us to drive all the way around the fucking country to collect everyone for Wind’s concert.”

[kfkr1ze]

Escape from S - Chapter 1

Characters — ✈︎ Renga, Ten

Location: Cheap Izakaya

Izakaya Waiter: Apologies for the wait, here are your drinks. I’ll be taking away the old glasses!

Ten: Yup, thanks.

Renga: It seriously tastes so good… The combo of the cold sake and the hot Atka mackerel… I can’t stop keep my chopsticks still.

Ten: Please drink in moderation. The Pres will chew me out if you get drunk this time.

Renga: I get it, I get it, I won’t get dryunk. I’ll make sure to protect your livyer, Ten…

Ten: Yeah, it’s about time for some water. Here.

Renga: Ngu…

Ten: Y’know, the Akta mackerel really is better here than anywhere else. They’re soft and packed full of flavor.

Renga: I never had anything like it!

…But, I really wanted to eat it in a prettier way. I always end up making a mess out of things.

I know I have to remove the spine already, but I’m just not good at it.

Ten, you seem to know how to eat well.

Ten: Well, I am the son of a sushi chef.

(ーーAnd I’ve had plenty of experience taking out “spines”.)

It doesn’t really matter how it looks. As long as it tastes good, it’s fine, right?

Renga:  Y-Yeah, right!

This sake’s also good…! Thank you for taking me to such an amazing restaurant!

Ten: No prob.

Renga: The thing I really love from this store is this. The point card!

Ten: Aah, this is…

Having something in paper form like this is rare nowadays huh.

Renga: The more times you come here, the higher ranking fish you get stamped on the card! There’s something exciting about it!

I didn’t even know some fish have different names when they get bigger.

Ten: They’re like promotional fish.

Renga: I have 3 left until I move up to a Tsubasu yellowtail! And then like ten more after that…? Let’s go here a lot so we can be Buri yellowtails, Ten! Let’s aim to be Buri yellowtails!

Ten:  Congrats～.

Renga: Congrats…? We always come here together, so you should be the same ranking as me Ten?

Ten: Nah, I lost the card. Accidentally.

Renga: Again!? The last time you said that, we came and asked for a new card with the same ranking as before though!?

I guess I have no choice. I’ll just request a new one for you!

Girl with a strong Gyaru vibe: I feel like I just heard a familiar voice.

Girl with neat black hair: If it isn’t Ten! What are you doing here?

Renga: Eh? Who’re they? Do you know them?

Ten: Aah… We kinda know each other from the past.

Renga: ??

Ten: They’re my ex-girlfriends.

Renga: Ex-girlfriends!? Both of them!?

Ten: Yeah yeah. Back when we were freshies in college, I stayed with them for a while.

Uh… You’re the one that likes the fish soup I make, and…

Ex-girlfriend with a strong Gyaru vibe: …! You remembered? It was super good to have that after I came back from my Gyara drinking party![1]

Ten: (I’ve actually made that soup for multiple women though.)

And you are… the girl who focuses on her natural beauty and drinks a lot of smoothies in the morning. The one who likes afternoon tea activities.

Ex-girlfriend with neat black hair: I have a bunch of a cafes I’ve been wanting to go to together with Ten. If we don’t, I won’t have anything to post to dazzle.

Ten: (Oh. I vaguely remembered, but I didn’t really expect to be right. I have a really good memory, huh?)

Renga: H-Huhh… You’re on good terms even with your ex-girlfriends…!

Ten: My bad, did you guys happen to contact me? I’ve been super busy so I haven’t been checking PeChat. I’ll check it later.

Ex-girlfriend with neat black hair: Uu… Just as I thought, his face is… the best…

Ex-girlfriend with a strong Gyaru vibe: OK, we’ll wait for you…

Not! Did you really think I’d say that!?!?  You’re the one who said “Thanks for the drink. Should I pick you up?”! You sent the last message!

Ten: Huhh? Is that so?

Ex-girlfriend with neat black hair: Ehh～? When Ten can’t come to pick me up, he always tells me it’s because he’s working on reports and he has to focus on his studies, so shouldn’t we be more considerate of him?

Renga: (I’ve never seen Ten work on reports or focus on studying though…?)

Ex-girlfriend with a strong Gyaru vibe: What’s with that? I never heard anything like that myself.

Ex-girlfriend with neat black hair: Huh, I guess he just felt like he couldn’t confide in you whenever he has issues then?

Ex-girlfriend with a strong Gyaru vibe: Hah? What? Are you trying to pick a fight!?

Ex-girlfriend with neat black hair: You’re the one who started it with the whole “Should I pick you up?” message from Ten though!?

Renga: E-Excyuse me…

(T-This feels kinda bad! If things stay like this, I’m sure they’ll explode on each other…!)

(I’ll help him out… as Ten’s… f-friend…!)

Hey, calm down you two! Why don’t we just talk about this first…!

Ex-girlfriend with neat black hair: Now that I think about it, isn’t this just Ten’s fault for not being unreliable!?

Ex-girlfriend with a strong Gyaru vibe: Right!? He only shows up when it’s convenient for him!!

The Ex-girlfriends: You think so too, right!?

Renga: Hgyah!?

Renga: T-Ten…! It might be best if you should say somethiーー

He left!?

The Ex-girlfriends: TEN～～～～!!!!

Ten: … Phew, that was good…

Location: Back Alley

Ten: (It kinda got complicated at the end, but smoking after I finish working is the best～)

Now then, what should I do?

(The “drinking with friends” job finished quicker than I expected, so I probably have some time to do a quick one time job for some cash. In that case…)

…Ah.

Ten: (It’s the point card from the Izakaya.)

…I thought I threw this away, but I guess it was in my pocket the whole time. It makes my wallet bulky.

Ten: Alright then, bye bye～

Masterlist — ✈︎ Next

Notes — ✈︎

Gyara drinking is when the host, typically a man, of the party pays its participants, typically girls, to drink

[basilone]

'Stairs' and 'homecoming' for Benny? Juno xx

Thank you for sending me this one! 💙Like we talked about when you first sent me this, this one is set post-war... Benny's homecoming, of a sort, as seen through someone else's eyes. 😉

where the heart is

Her linen skirt fans out over the stairs, obscuring its dark wood with shades of sand and dust. The little half moons of red carpet dig between her toes as she seats herself instead of walking on them. It’s sturdy carpet, almost stiff beneath her feet, that does nothing to soften the wood’s hardness.

Darlene sighs a little to herself. Leans back until the next stair lies hard against her back, steadying the low ache that’s been settling near her hips. Leans back on her elbows, even, as though she is sunning herself somewhere warm instead of indoors in misty Chicago. This is as far as she dares go in this house that’s not her own: halfway up the stairs, close to the kitchen, with another adopted stray for company.

“D’ya think she’ll smack Benny with that same spoon she was stirring with?”

“Depends,” hums Darlene, frowning a little at Stella Lombardi’s bright smile. The dark-haired woman is wobbling back and forth on the stairs in front of her, arms spread ballerina-wide, seemingly unperturbed by the noises down below. “If he gives her enough lip, maybe,” she allows, “but Ben’s always said he don’t dare do that to his mama.”

“I don’t think Mrs DeMarco is that scary.”

“You’re a Lombardi. Ain’t a thing in the world that’s scary to the likes of you.”

“There’s plenty, Darlene,” says Stella, sighing as she gives up her balancing act. “Going home wasn’t easy. Thought they wouldn’t let me out of the house anymore, but Gianluca said they can’t expect me to fall in line anymore.” Gianluca, Darlene remembers, is the eldest of the Lombardi children. Head of the family now, or so it appears. “A lot of the guys daddy thought I’d be a good marrying type for have died overseas, you know,” adds Stella, “so there’s hardly an argument against Bill and me tying the knot.”

“Does William know you’ve been talkin’ about that?”

“I’ve been hinting. Strongly.”

“Maybe ya should ask him.”

“That what you did with Benny? Ask him?”

Darlene snorts out a laugh. “Didn’t need ta do any o’ that. Boy’s been talkin’ about marryin’ me since the day we met, if Gale’s to be believed.” She thinks she can trust Gale Cleven’s word on anything, because he’s the honest sort of man who’d sooner keep silent than lie. “He’s been askin’ for a long time. Didn’t believe him, at first.” Warmth fans out into her cheeks. “I think I started to believe him right before they all crashed, ya know?”

“Not a lot of marrying you can do in a prison camp.” Stella’s arms come up to hug her knees as she gazes at Darlene. “I remember him talking about wanting to marry you, right before. Thought that was why you and Lottie had that almighty fight once Buck and him both went down.” A shadow crosses Stella’s face as the sitting room door below clicks shut. “You made it look so complicated. This falling in love thing.”

“Everything around it was, sure. But falling in love with Benny?” Darlene shakes her head. Smiles. “Easiest I ever did. Getting engaged in Italy was long overdue after all that.”

“Getting pregnant in Italy was long overdue, too,” smirks Stella, nodding at Darlene’s slightly rounded belly. “Max and me had a whole bet going about it, because you two kept disappearing in England too many times. Thought you’d run out of rubbers or something.”

“You’re kiddin’, right? With all of Dougie’s stash right there?”

“Fair point,” giggles Stella. “Think I won the bet. Max… Max doesn’t know that yet. But she’s gonna.”

Darlene’s hand squeezes Stella’s knee a moment. “Do you know where she is?”

“Nah. Not yet. Been waiting for Brady to write me back, maybe he knows. Think that’s the dumbest fucking thing about this homecoming business, though. Everybody disappearing. Marrying. Getting babies without us knowing it. Rosie said that Ham’s wife is pregnant now, and Jean Crosby’s been talking about another baby, and… I don’t know. It’s just weird.”

“Suddenly we’re back to being from everywhere.”

“Yeah. You think you’re gonna go home?”

“What, to Georgia?”

Stella nods. “Go see Lottie?”

“Lottie ain’t home to me no more,” sighs Darlene, feeling the old familiar twist in her belly at the thought. “Don’t even know if she went there. She might be in Wyoming. You said…”

“Her and Buck.”

“Yeah. I ain’t going to Georgia for my family, Frosty. You and Benny and this damn baby are all I got.”

“And the rest of us in the DeMarco clan, too,” pipes up a new voice as a soda bottle is proffered through the stair’s balusters. “Here, take it, I’ve got two more.” It’s one of Benny’s cousins – Aradia? Darlene thinks it might be – waving another bottle through as Stella takes the first. Darlene’s hand locks around the new bottle. “There you go. Bernardo’s in there telling his mama about your family right now. Makes sense you wouldn’t go out to see them.”

“What else are they saying?” asks Stella with interest, leaning forward.

Aradia sighs. “His mama’s a little snippy about the order in which he’s doing things.” Dark eyes peer up at Darlene inquisitively as Benny’s cousin rounds the staircase. “Having lots of sex before getting engaged, having a baby before marriage, gallivanting around Italy before coming home at all… I mean, I get it, Ricardo and I didn’t do things the Catholic way either,” snorts Aradia out, seating herself on the stairs below, “but Bernardo’s never been this damn crazy about a girl at all. It’s even worse that they can’t find fault in you. Think they’re gonna adopt you if Bernardo doesn’t marry you.”

“Plenty o’ fault in me,” refutes Darlene, blushing crimson. “Just what in the blazes is he tellin’ his mama? Can’t make out a damn word of what they’re sayin’ in there.” All that she can hear are muffled voices, raised just enough to not have every word be audible. “D’ya think I should…?”

“What, walk in and see the minefield?”

“Yeah?”

“Operation Rescue Benny,” laughs Stella.

“That boy hardly needs saving. Last I heard, she was telling him he’d better treat you right or else,” says Aradia, waving a lofty hand. “Something about giving you whatever you need. I walked out into the sitting room when he was telling them how much he loves you. Ricardo only says that about me when he’s drunk off his ass, and here Bernardo is…”

“I love Darlene so much, I am going to marry Darlene,” giggles Stella, “Darlene’s the prettiest, do you know how smart Darlene is, Darlene made this drawing, Darlene painted my plane, Darlene said I look good in red, Darlene Darlene Darlene…”

“Shut up!”

“No, but Lombardi’s got a point,” nods Aradia.

“Stella,” says Stella, extending a hand for Aradia to shake. “And I know what you mean, Bill doesn’t talk like that about me either.”

“Yeah? William was telling Rosie how much he likes you,” smiles Darlene, waving some cool into her heated cheeks with her hand. “Heard it myself. Waxin’ with poetry about you, he was. Said he was going to miss you, Frosty.”

“Frosty?”

“Crew nickname.”

“Right,” nods Aradia, “women flying combat…”

“Not your cuppa?” asks Darlene, seeing the slight wrinkle to Aradia’s nose. “Stella was real good at it. Lead bombardier alongside James Douglass, yeah? Ain’t a drop she can’t do. Lots of them women were aces at what they did.”

“I’d be scared of going down. Being in that camp, like Bernardo was…”

“You’re never alone, though.” Stella’s smile is minuscule, but it’s present all the same. “The guys would never have let us be on our own. And if you die in the sky, you’re carried by them. In their hearts and all.”

“D-Did anyone…?”

“Yeah. Don’t wanna talk about that, but yeah. Some of them died. Some of them were in camp with Benny. I got lucky, being in England, never going –”

Stella’s last words are drowned out by the slam of a door.

“You okay, Bernardo?”

“Ben?” asks Darlene, spotting a slightly balled fist out of the corner of her eye. “You all right?”

“Dia, go see mama,” says Benny, jerking his head at the kitchen as he gestures at Aradia. “She’s asking for you. Something about the wedding. I don’t fucking know.” He sighs. “The hell are you all sitting on the stairs for?”

“Thought we could listen in,” smirks Stella.

“I needed somewhere to sit,” corrects Darlene, groaning as she extends her legs. “Our baby’s fucking with my innards, Ben,” she announces. “Gonna be the size of a whale if this keeps up.”

“Prettiest whale in the world,” chuckles Benny, dodging a slap to his head from Aradia while she shuffles past him to the kitchen. “Mama’s fussing about you not fitting into a wedding dress. Papa’s saying he can make you one, if you want.”

“Wh… Ben…?” She swallows tears that are swimming in her eyes. “He… He said that?”

“Yeah. A DeMarco bride’s gotta look the part, right? I told him you might not want white, so you should probably… I don’t know… talk to him at dinner or something.”

“In your earshot? I think not,” she sniffles, brushing a stray tear off her cheek. “I got a dress already. Might need altering unless we marry tomorrow.”

“We could.”

“Fuck that, I haven’t got a dress for that yet,” snaps Stella, looking back and forth between them. “You are not getting married without the rest of us there to see it, you hear me? I won’t let you.” She rises to her feet. Draws herself up to her rather unimpressive height. “Little sister veto, mio fratello,” she comments archly to Benny as he ascends the stairs. “Gonna tell your mama we need to invite the crew, and Kenny, and Rosie, and Bucky and George, and –”

“Jesus Christ,” mouths Darlene as Stella rushes down the stairs and almost flies into the kitchen. She groans as the full extent of potential wedding guests begins to reel around in her brain. “So much for a small wedding, huh?”

“Italian weddings are never small, love.” Benny’s eyes crinkle as he sinks down on the stairs beside her. “Most you can hope for is that Dia stops mama from inviting the extended family. Sorry.”

“Ya don’t sound too apologetic ’bout that, Ben.”

“I like telling people I love you.”

“Oh, do ya?”

“Sure do,” he smiles, leaning over to kiss her cheek. “Crazy about you. And about our baby.”

Darlene chuckles. Drops her head onto his shoulder. “Sorry I made ya come home with little pregnant me for company, Ben. Woulda been easier for ya if that wasn’t the case.”

“What, the family? If they wouldn’t bitch about that, they’d have complained about the lack of letters or the crash or the camp or flying in a warzone or me bringing a Lombardi into the house or about Cannoli…”

“Your mama loves Cannoli,” murmurs Darlene, remembering how the woman had instantly doted on one of Meatball’s puppies. “But I hear ya. It’s different from my family, ’s all. Mine woulda chucked you outta the house and kicked me down with ya the second they saw my big belly. Keep… Keep thinkin’ yours should. Except they won’t.”

“Because they’re not assholes,” snorts Benny out irreverently, pulling her close to him. “And you look like a million bucks, Mrs DeMarco,” he whispers, kissing her cheek a second time. “Like one of those paintings you love so much.”

Her cheeks flame again. “Don’t say that!”

“Tough,” he grins, “already did.”

“You’re impossible.”

“And you love me.”

“And I love ya,” she sighs, squeezing his hand. “So damn much.”