#I haven’t figured out the rest ♥️

[noconsistencyhere]

Young Justice (animated) The Quarry au. I hear you thinking. “Ed as Ryan and Bart as Dylan.” But I raise you: Ed as Laura and Bart as Max

[meeks-just-wants-to-scroll]

hi 🐊 me again

i figured id ask soneone who actually gives a rats ass about colm since most of my pals dont lol ^-^ last ask posted gave me the push to ask

i think a lot about kieran describing colms happiness as "a ray of sunshine" when speaking about him at the campfire. of course it could just mean that kieran isnt being treated horribly, and thats a ray of sunshine to the him, but i like to think his standards are a little higher even if they never get met.

ive always liked to imagine it as actually meaning something, at least to kieran. its lead me to believe that in an ideal world, kieran was moreso colms personal errand boy rather than just the gangs as a whole, that would make all of the o'driscolls recognizing him make sense. and that would also make the "sunshine" line make more sense too, if kieran was colms own little whipping boy, they would probably have a slightly closer relationship than most. after all, during the camp raid in chapter 1, we do see kieran directly grabbed snd hit by colm.

but im mostly curious about your thoughts on it all, especially as someone whos colm brained (i am trying to get myself there honestly ^-^). id looooove to know your interpretation of that line and what it says about the o'driscoll leader !! its always stuck out to me considering how little they try to humanize colm elsewhere for most of the game, and kieran says it with so much energy that youre stuck believing him.

Oh man, I am glad to get this ask because I love colm discussions. I kind of lagged on answering this because I wasn’t sure if I could actually bring a lot of interesting stuff up to talk about. Colm had so little screen time that it’s hard for me to get a grasp.

Okay. So… sunshine… ☀️

When Kieran said this it immediately made me think of cyclical abuse tactics where there is a period of good treatment followed by destruction.

I believe Colm is much the same as Dutch with having the ability to draw people in and stick with a commonality + a common goal. The O’D are drawn together by the commonality of being Irish heritage (despite Colm being American but has an Irish name). Their common goal is money and the outlaw freedom to do bad and feel invincible in numbers.

Colm doesn’t put a lot of 1:1 time with his gang so I can’t assert how he treats the rest of the gang (likely like a distant boss). But I can make a guess how he treats his close circle of people based off of Kieran’s dialogue.

Why is Kieran selected to stick with the gang? That deserves its own post, but let’s pretend Colm took a liking to Kieran and let him be the personal whipping boy; Someone who showed he was malleable enough to not put up a fight when bossed around (and disposable).

As for the sunshine, I think that could be Kieran recalling the times Colm had treated him well. Not just “he didn’t punch me today. Yay!” But 1:1 personal attention that is so far from what Colm usually does for the rest that it makes Kieran feel on top of the world. Of course he isn’t actually treated well, but it is that friendly talking and ease of laughter that makes Kieran almost forget it’s not sincere.

I think Kieran would be touch starved, and Colm knows this, so he uses brief kind gestures of touch to persuade Kieran. This is me being me but I rlly like Colm touching people’s hair. It is such an invasive and personal thing to do but also 🗣️♥️head scratches and getting your hair played with feels nice‼️♥️. It’s that dissonance between “this is creepy but also I haven’t been shown kindness since my parents died.”

It’s compared to sunshine because Colm’s nice attention is like being singled out by the sun in a cold mountain. It is a spotlight.

The flip side of “when he’s angry, it’s like the devil is upon you” is harder for me to define. I sometimes struggle with media analysis when it comes to imagining things I don’t get to clearly see in the media. Leaving stuff to the imagination is powerful, but I need something of substance to bite into for me to analyze.

I feel like Colm’s anger can be unpredictable. He has the men power and persistence to extend his anger not just to you when he is before you, but to you at all times. I don’t think Kieran was only paranoid, I think he had good reason to fear every moment he was being watched. The one time he let down his guard, he was snatched. There are also letters across the game written by O’Driscolls where they make threats and allude to them stalking people.

Colm’s anger in person is hard to read. I don’t think he yells except in a few cases, he always whispers and talks in such an eerie way. Pardon me as I copy and paste what I told some friends on the topic of his voice…

“He talks in a way that fries my brain because I know I shouldn’t trust him and he DOES sound untrust worthy but I can’t get my claws into what specifically is setting off my radar.

[in blessed are the peacemaker] After the threatening “I liked Annabell” line, Colm is so ominously silent, drawing out the tension moments longer before he just???? Smiles and almost laughs. It’s so playful and harmless sounding (without the context of the situation). Such a fucking 180 and unseriousness. He also says ‘you’ve always liked the ladies,’ as if Colm knows how shallow and fast Dutch likes and falls out with women.

And then the ‘I like that about you,’ whisper is just… Colm. Very colmy. Just whispering something as if it’s some secret or to emphasize it.

Colm is incapable of going one sentence without changing his tone/delivery/pacing/breathiness all to throw off how to read him.

He talks like he is a three headed snake-rat-vulture chimera.”

He turns on a dime when talking to Kieran in Chapter 1 (mission Old Friend? I forgot the name). He holds an amicable conversation for a few moments before something suddenly cues Colm to grab Kieran and give him two quick slaps across the face, then shove him and yell at him. It’s brief, but Colm has been shown to have the capacity to get his hands directly on people, not just use his gang as an extension of his hands. I also want to mention the intentions detail of Colm being atop his horse and leaning down to talk to Kieran. Visual story telling/signifying rank and dynamic. Even when speaking amicably, Colm is in command.

I wish I had more research in my brain of manipulation tactics that would lead to this, but I do think Colm either keeps easy to influence people or already morally corrupt people in his ranks so they’ll easily align with him when he is angry. Hence Kieran mentioning how “he’s mad. And you’re upset and you don’t know why… as long as it isn’t directed at you, you don’t care!”

^ I believe what I am talking about are “Flying Monkeys” in the context of psychology and narcissists. Brief rehashing of what TheraminTrees taught me but it’s when people knowingly or unknowingly are recruited by narcissists to extend their influence / control beyond direct interactions.

I don’t think just anyone could be slotted into Colm’s gang and especially not his close ring of people. That man had an eye for picking people who will easily follow and carry out his bidding.

I don’t think the game could have humanized him a whole lot outside of one of his abuse victims briefly mentioning how colm had moments of good treatment. As the audience (extra: as the audience looking through Arthur’s eyes), there is no good way the game could have made ups sympathize or respect Colm because we ourselves aren’t the kind of people who would believe the sickly sweet lies Colm drip feeds to keep his men by his side.

I do like how they managed to at least briefly allude to a “kind” side to Colm. It would have been so easy to paint Colm as a black and white bad man with no redeeming traits (and I am sure that’s how some fans see him if they missed or ignored Kieran’s camp interaction). But that tiny mention makes him so interesting to me.

As much as I hate how little screen time he got, that’s in character for him. He is elusive, he is hard to read, he is contradictory in how he talks (sounding so humored one minute and deathly silent the next). He is… so. God damn. Slimy.

I love Colm as a character so much it is actually driving me ballistics.

SIGHHHH LONG ANALYSIS BUT ANYWAYS thank you for sending this ask this was a good use of like…. Two hours.

[pedrito-friskito]

Kay!

Can I just say, I love your sundae idea! It's adorable, and now I really want a sundae 🤤

Could I please request #3 from the fluff prompts with Javier Peña pretty please? ♥️

midge! I hope you got your sundae 🤍

I kinda of tweaked the prompt a lil bit here but I hope you like it, and you know I had to go back to the ranch for this too…

burning questions - the ranch - javier peña x fem!reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings: none! tooth-rotting fluff, javi is an over-thinker

Javi’s been thinking about it.

Well, more than thinking about it.

To be quite honest, the thing’s been burning a hole in his pocket since he picked it up. More than a week now. It’d be a lie to say this was an impulsive decision — on the contrary, he’s never felt more sure about anything else before — but now he has to figure out the how, and he didn’t think it would be this hard.

The biggest problem, he’s realizing, is that when you’re both home, you’re never far away from each other. Always within arm’s reach, close enough to know what the other is doing. It’s not an overbearing presence by any stretch, but it just means it’s going to take a bit more tact and planning to get things how he wants them.

But then his brain starts going…is that what you want?

Javier has always been an over-thinker. When it came to his career, it worked in his favour more often than not, but this wouldn’t be the first time he’s shot something to hell in his personal life because he can’t get his brain to shut down.

Steve, shockingly, is little help.

“You’re gonna do it!” his old partner hoots into the phone. “Javier Peña, you old dog! I knew she was the one for you, brother.”

Javi rubs his hand across his brow. You’re in the living room, your nose in a book, and he purposely left the TV a little louder than normal, in hopes it would drown out his phone call. “Yeah, yeah, you’re a savant, Steve, honestly. But listen, I need…how did you propose to Connie?”

“What?”

“When you proposed to Connie, how’d you do it?”

“Javi, are you asking me how to ask a woman to marry you?” His friend pauses. “Wait, haven’t you done this before?”

“Yes,” he whisper-sighs into the phone. “But with Lorraine, it was different. It was…obligation. It wasn’t special.” He glances toward the living room, just able to see the top of your head from where he’s stood in the kitchen. “She has no idea, Steve. At least, I hope she doesn’t, and I just…I need to make it special, you know?”

“Brother, it’s gonna be special no matter what you do, you realize that, right? You two love each other. It’s simple as that.”

“But—”

“I carried around Connie’s ring in my pocket for months, trying to do exactly what you’re trying to do right now. I was waiting for the right moment, the perfect moment, but here’s the thing, Jav: that moment doesn’t exist. If you keep waiting for it to feel perfect, you’ll be waiting a long time.”

“You’re right,” Javi admits, scrubbing his hand over his chin. “Wait, so how’d you do it?”

Steve chuckles lowly. “Middle of the grocery store. Connie asked if I wanted chocolate or vanilla ice cream and I got down on one knee right there in the freezer aisle.”

Javi laughs back. “You fuckin’ cheeseball.”

“Takes one to know one,” his partner shoots back. “Go, Jav. Whatever you do, it’ll be great.”

The line disconnects, and Javier sets the phone back in it’s cradle. From the living room, he sees you perk up on the couch, turning to look at him. “Baby, would you bring me a glass of water?”

Baby, would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?

He nearly says it right then. The ring’s sitting in the chest pocket of his shirt. His eyes linger on you a moment, the easy smile on your face and the bright in your eyes. He’s lost for that second, caught up in the way he’s looking at you, the way you’re looking back. How beautiful you’d look walking down an aisle toward him, that same brightness in your gaze…

“Javi?”

“Yeah,” he replies, snapping out of his reverie. “Water, yeah, be right there.”

The rest of the night passes, and between commercials on the TV, Javi thinks it over. Over-thinks it, over and over and over. Steve’s words play on repeat in his mind, and the ring in his pocket feels white-hot. At one point, you adjust yourself on the couch, angling your body back against his chest, and panic rises in him. Can you feel the little round outline, the way it’s burning a hole in his skin?

Around midnight, you declare yourself suitably tired, turning to give him a soft kiss before pushing off the couch, carrying your book and your half-empty glass of water out of the living room. Javi listens to the quiet pad of your feet up the stairs, hears the creak of the bedroom door.

Silently, he fishes the ring from his pocket, turns it over in the dim lamplight. He recalls his father’s face when he told Chucho his intentions, that he was sure you were the one, that he wanted to ask you to be his wife. It was a far cry from the conversation they’d had when Javi proposed to Lorraine all those years ago, and the old man had stared Javier down with wet eyes. “I knew she was the one, Jav. Right from the first time I met her. She makes you so happy, mijo, and it makes me so happy to see it.”

It’s been a while now since his mother had been able to wear her wedding rings; the medications she took made her hands puffy, and while she usually wore them on a chain around her neck, when he went to the nursing home to talk to his dad, she unclasped the chain and slid the engagement ring from it. Simple gold, a singular diamond flanked by two sapphires. She’d pressed the ring into his palm and leaned in and kissed her son’s cheek.

“Be happy, mijo. Always.”

Now, he stares at the ring, pinched between his fingers, the diamond glittering in the light, throwing sparkles back at him. He presses his lips together, his mind going a million miles a minute.

Whatever you do, it’ll be great.

Javi flicks off the television, turns off the lights, and checks that the front door is locked before heading upstairs. You’ve left the light on, and soft orange light pours from the bedroom into the hall. He stops in the bathroom, brushes his teeth, runs a damp hand through his hair. When he steps inside the bedroom, he sees it’s the light on his nightstand that you’ve left on, and you’re asleep, sprawled on your side with your arm reaching across his side of the bed, your eyes softly closed, lips gently parted.

Smiling to himself, Javi walks over and sets the ring on his nightstand. He crosses to the closet, strips down to his boxers and puts his clothes in the laundry.

You stir slightly as he gets under the blankets with you, automatically shifting closer as he lays on his back and tugs your arm over his bare middle. Your nails dig in slightly and it makes him shiver.

It’s a moment before he realizes it’s your left hand slung across his waist, and the plan hatches quickly. He executes it before his mind can get the better of him.

Javi reaches for the ring, careful not to jostle or rouse you best he can. Then he takes your hand, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles before sliding the diamond onto your ring finger.

It’s a perfect fit.

He brings your hand to his lips, peppering kisses along your fingertips, rubbing his thumb over the ring. He doesn’t mind if he wakes you now, and sure enough, after a few moments, your eyes flutter open.

“Javi,” you mumble sleepily, squinting against the soft light. “Wha—” Your words stop short when your eyes land on your own hand, the ring now sitting on your finger. “Javier Peña.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up. He kisses the pad of your thumb. “I cannot fathom my life without you in it,” he murmurs, adjusting slightly so he can look at you fully. “You get that, right? There’s no one else for me, and there never will be. You’re it, querida. You always have been.”

“Javi,” you say again, pulling your hand out of his grip to cup his cheek in your palm, swiping your thumb along his cheekbone. “You…”

“Marry me, baby,” he whispers, turning to press a kiss to the palm of your hand. “Please.”

There are tears in your eyes, clumping your lashes together.

“Yes.”

[kimetsu-chan]

Can you write a Muichiro and Yuuichiro fic in which Reader lives with the siblings after their parents died? I think your writing style would suit this request very much ⊂(・▽・⊂) Also, please ignore this if you don't feel up to writing this 😌

~Comfort in a Time Like This~

A/N: I had a lot of fun writing this, thank you for requesting! This can be read as platonic or romantic. No pronouns specified.

TWS ⚠️: mentions of death and loss of loved ones. Please don’t read if these topics are triggering

The house had been so eerily quiet the past few days…. The silence was suffocating.

It had been like this ever since Mr. and Mrs. Tokito died three days ago. It felt as if Muichiro never got out of bed anymore other than to get some food or water. He would always just curl up into a ball with all of his mother’s favorite blankets and just… cry. [Name] of course couldn’t blame him. The Tokitos had been like family to [Name], so naturally, [Name] was also crushed by their death.

Yuichiro had been the exact opposite to Muichiro following their parent’s death. He’d been working twice as hard, and putting himself under twice the stress…

So when Yuichiro was out of the house and Muichiro was in his usual spot, [Name] figured it was about time the boys were comforted.

[Name] decided to start with Muichiro and slowly approached his bed.

“Mui…? Can i come sit with you..?”

There was silence in the heap of pillows and blankets before the part where his head lay moved up and down.

A nod.

[Name] lifted the blanket slightly and sat down in the open spot next to him. [Name]’s hands reached into his hair and began to scratch his head in a comforting way. [Name] thought for a moment on how to get him up from his bed.

“How about we go sit by the river? It’s nice and cool right now…”

Muichiro sighed but nodded in agreement. So gentle hands took his as [Name] slowly pulled him out of bed. Muichiro was about to take the blanket but [Name]’s hand stopped him.

“It’ll just get wet and ruined Mui, leave it here.”

Muichiro reluctantly agreed and dropped the blanket. He wrapped his arms around [Name]’s in a clingy way and rested his head on [Name]’s shoulder.

The short walk to the river was quiet but in a good way. Getting Muichiro out of bed definitely was the right choice.

They finally reached the river and sat down on the pebbly shore. [Name]’s arm wrapped around his neck and rested on his shoulder.

They sat in silence for a while before they heard the sounds of footsteps. They knew it was Yuichiro returning and when his footsteps got closer, [Name] thought he as going to berate them for doing nothing.

But no, [Name]’s other shoulder suddenly felt heavy with the weight of another head. A hand reached behind [Name] to comfortingly rub his brother’s back.

A few hiccups of a cry were heard before Muichiro turned to bury his face in [Name]’s neck. [Name]’s neck soon became wet with tears and Yuichiro stood up to walk to Muichiro’s other side. Yuichiro attempted to wrap his arms around both [Name] and his brother. He rested his head on Muichiro’s back and spoke in a small and choked voice.

“I’m sorry that I’ve been awful to you… I don’t have an excuse for it. I was so wrapped up in my own way of grieving that I didn’t stop to think of how you feel… I’m sorry”

Muichiro turned his head to look at his brother. He stared at Yuichiro for a bit before turning his entire head and pouncing on his brother.

“I forgive you…”

As the brothers continued to make up, [Name] sat back with a satisfied smile.

Maybe things could go back to how they used to be?

A/N: I hope you liked it!! And I hope its not too obvious how much better at writing angst rather than fluff I am—

Also feel free to always request something! I will rarely ever decline a request (I haven’t so far) and the only reason I would decline a request is if the person who is requesting makes me really uncomfortable, or the request itself has something I’m not okay with writing/drawing ♥️

[i-love-def-leppard]

I Wanna Touch You (Joe Elliott x Reader) - Part 2 🔥

A/N: At last…Part 2 is finally here!!! Here is the link to Part 1 if you haven’t read it yet or would like to reread :) I apologize again for taking forever to publish this part of the one-shot. Most of you have heard I’ve been super busy recently, experiencing some writers block, and accidentally deleting HALF of the story when I was almost finished *sigh.* Please keep in mind that this is my first time writing smut so please bear with me for this one. I promise I will get better with some time! Anyways, I’ll shut up now and let you get to reading!! I hope you enjoy!! ♥️

-

WARNING: detailed smut ahead ‼️

-

1983 Pyromania Tour - backstage

After what felt like forever, the boys were finally done their set.

You see Joe quickly making his towards you at the side of the stage where he left you standing in demand, seconds before he walked on.

He quickly tosses his microphone to his roadie, taking the final steps to meet your figure.

“Fucking finallyyy.” Joe exhales as he grabs his hands towards you.

He waists no time, pulling you into him by your waist, placing hungry kisses to your lips. He kisses the corner of your mouth, slowly moving downwards to plant sloppy kisses along your jaw.

Softly moaning at his touch, you bring your hands up to lightly tug at his hair, sweaty from what felt like the longest gig ever.

“Mmm, Joe” you moan into his ear.

As soon as the noise leaves your mouth, your eyes grow wide, quickly remembering that you are still surrounded by many members of the band and their crew.

Shit.

“Gonna give us a free show, eh?” Phil laughs as you look up and see the rest of the band standing right there.

“In your dreams, Collen.” Joe shoots back after he reluctantly pulls his lips off your neck. “C’mon, love. Let’s go somewhere where we have some more privacy, hmm?”

“Yes, I’d like thatt. Lead the way, baby…bye boys!” you giddily respond. Joe adding to the humor by jokingly flipping them off.

After earning gross looks from the rest of the band, Joe grabs you by the wrist and pulls you into the direction of his dressing room.

“NO SHAGGING IN MY ROOM! GOT IT!?” you hear Sav yell from behind you. Flashbacks quickly flood your memory, remembering the time you both mistook his dressing room for Joe’s resulting in…

Well, let’s just say, Sav was rather traumatized.

With this, you and Joe can’t help but let out childlike giggles as you make your way to his room, knowing how much you’ve grossed out the rest of the band.

When you finally reach Joe’s dressing room, the laughing mood between you both changes in an instant.

Joe kicks open the door, quickly locking it behind him, immediately pinning you up against it.

Your lips hungrily attach to one another like magnets. You felt like you have already waited too long for him, so you pick up the pace by parting your lips, letting Joe’s tongue explore your mouth.

Wow. He is such a good kisser. I could come undone right now.

Your hands tug at his hair while his squeeze at your breasts, skillfully making their way down down to your ass.

“Damn, Y/N. All I could think about during the set was you and ripping this perfect little outfit off.”

Joe says, gasping for air against your mouth as both of your hands desperately roam one another, starved all night to touch.

“Please, Joe. I can’t wait any longer. I need more.” you desperately plead into his ear, reaching for his belt.

“Don’t worry, love. I’ll take good care of ya.”

He replies as you feel him reach down in between your thighs, slowly pushing them apart so he can fit his hand in between.

“Fuck. I forgot you weren’t wearing anything under this skirt.”

“You are such a fucking tease, you know that?” he growls into your ear as you start to feel him rub his long fingers through your slick folds.

“Ohh, Joe.” you whine at the sudden attention to your clit.

“So wet for me already, baby?” he praises you as he forces your chin up with his free hand. You are now forced to look deep into his darkened eyes.

“You look so pretty right now. Goddd- I’m so lucky.” Joe says in admiration, right before he pushes two of his long fingers into your entrance.

“Ohh, fuck! Feels so good!” you moan into his mouth. His lips sloppily cover yours, muffling the rest of the sounds trying to escape your lungs.

Knowing you want to feel more, Joe picks up the pace of his fingers. You can’t help but to grind your hips against his palm and the prominent bulge in his leather pants, looking for as much friction as possible. This earns a deep groan to escape his throat.

“Feel good, hm? Shit- I can’t wait to get inside of you.” he pants, already out of breath as he watches you fall apart for him.

Coming close to your fast release and your legs threatening to collapse, your heart rate increases and your moans get louder.

Your boyfriend knew all the tell-tale signs your body makes before an orgasm, but you can’t help but remind him.

“Joe- I can’t last much longer” you moan into his mouth.

With this confession, Joe quickly pulls his fingers out of you causing a loud whine to escape your mouth from the sudden lack of contact.

You are left standing against the door, your face flustered red, as you watch your boyfriend’s lips curve upwards into a grin inches away from you.

“What the hell? I was so close! Why’d you stop?” you whine as you watch him raise his middle two fingers to his face.

Your jaw drops as you watch him push those two slick-covered fingers into his mouth, sucking your juices clean off.

Fuckk. That was so hot.

“You taste so good, love” he smirks. “You thought you could just tease me earlier without receiving any consequences? Tsk- now you know how it feels, hm?” he playfully taunts you.

“Please, Joe. This is torturee. I need to cum.” you beg.

“Hm- alright, love. I’ll let you off easy this time, but only because you asked so nicely.” He replies, not being able to tease you any longer.

He too was getting increasingly desperate for some relief.

You attack each other’s bodies again trying to get as much clothing off as possible.

“Fuck, Y/N. As sexy as these tits look in this top, they’ll look even better with it off.” he says ripping it off of you and throwing it to the ground.

“And fuck it-. You’re leaving this dirty little skirt on. I wanna watch you get fucked with it on” he growls into your ear.

Whimpering at his filthy words, you go straight to pulling his Union Jack shirt up and off his head. You throw it to the side. Then, you grab his handcuff belt, working on getting that undone.

As you work on his belt, Joe attacks your neck with his mouth like his life depends on it.

There will definitely be marks later.

Hooking your long nails into the waistband of his underwear and leather pants, you lower them down both at once. Joe steps out of them, exposing what you have been waiting for all night.

“Shit, Joe.” you admire, sucking in the breath of air you forgot to breathe due to the sight before you.

No matter how many times you’ve seen your boyfriend naked, he never fails to impress you with his size.

“Like what ya see?” he proudly questions.

“Mmhmm, yes. Anddd…I’m gonna prove it.” you purr against his lips.

Suddenly taken over by a dominant urge, you place your hands on his chest, gently pushing him back onto the couch behind him.

He lays completely undressed with his back lying flat against the cool leather material. Just the position you want him in.

“Wow, Y/N/N. I could cum right now, just from looking at you.” He says admiring you through the top of his eyelids as you stand over him, ready to pounce.

His words are all it takes for you to throw your legs over his, straddling your entrance just over his twitching cock.

Before you allow yourself to sink down on him, you bring your face to his saying, “I love you, Joe,” softly kissing his lips.

“I love you too, Y/N. So much.” he wholeheartedly says right before sucking in a sharp breath, failing to notice your sneaky hand traveling down in between your bodies to stroke his aching cock.

“Fuuucckkk-” he moans with relief.

With this relieving sensation, Joe is now the one falling apart for you.

After a few pumps, you rub the tip of his cock in between your folds, collecting as much wetness as possible before slowly sinking down on him.

“God, you feel so good.” Joe grunts into your ear.

You quickly both gain a steady rhythm that pleases the both of you.

“Mmmphh-” you loudly moan, adjusting to his size.

Joe’s hips buck up into your g-spot with hard thrusts, adding to your pleasure as you ride him with all of your energy.

Palming your hands on his chest, your hands can’t help sometimes trail downwards, tracing the patch of hair leading down to his shaft.

Your hands grip his shoulders for support, in fear you may already collapse.

“These perfect tits. Damn-”Joe swallows heavily while he massages them with both hands.

Throughout, Joe’s hands switch from playing with your tits to hardly gripping your waist. He pulls you down further onto his dick, grinding against each other with great force.

“Ahh- baby you take me so well.” Joe praises you.

You start rolling your hips in a circular motion, knowing that this is what throws Joe right over the edge.

“Christ, Y/N, you’re so fucking goo-.” Joe moans as his sentences become slurred due to intense sensations of pleasure.

The slick sounds of his dick pounding into you echoes throughout the room.

“That’s it, baby. Right there. Ah-” he cries.

“S’close- Ohhh my god, Joe!” you scream, not caring if the people on the outside hear you both.

Oh, they can definitely hear us right now.

You notice Joe’s abs flexing more and more, realizing he is getting close too.

“Fuck, Y/N. I don’t think I’ll be able to last any longer with you. I’m about to cum.” he gasps into your mouth as you lean down to kiss him.

“Don’t fucking stop, baby.” he begs on the edge.

“C’mon baby. Cum for me.” panting as you struggle to kiss him back. The feeling of your oncoming orgasm getting increasingly more intense.

“Ohhh. Fucking hell-. Mmmphh. Baby, I’m cumming.” he deeply whines, echoing off the walls.

Thrusting down onto him one more time, you watch as his face contorts in ecstasy, body trembling at the sensation.

“OHHH, Y/N! Ah, fuck- fuckkk!” he deeply moans as his load fills up your insides. His hips continue to thrust up and into your soaked entrance, mindful of making sure you finish at the same time.

You sneak your hand down to rub at your clit, causing the well-known sensation to bubble down low in your stomach.

Immediately after Joe, you cum. And -shit- you cum hard.

“OHH!! Joe, mmphh. Fucking hell-” you scream at the top of your lungs as your body completely weakens and shakes from your orgasm.

The hand giving attention to your clit drops to your side in weakness, giving Joe the opportunity to take over the motion, helping your ride out your high.

“There you go, baby.” he says sweetly, watching your body shake and collapse on his chest. Your face now resting in the crook of his neck.

Shortly after, he slowly pulls out of you causing the familiar warm sensation to creep down your legs.

You both lay there for a minute or two, allowing yourselves to come down from your high. The smell of sex fills the room.

“Wow. That was so fucking hot, Y/N.” he says, catching his breath. “You did so good for me, love.”

Unable to form a proper response at the moment, you just tilt your head up to his, planting a sweet kiss to his lips.

“I love you, Y/N.” he says.

“I love you too, Joe. You have no idea-” you reply lifting your head to look into his eyes.

He laughs saying, “Oh, but I dooo. You proved yourself pretty well just now, love.” he smirks as he gently squeezes your hip in a teasing manner.

Giggling, you can’t help the pink shade that rises to your cheeks created by a mix of pride and slight embarrassment at your performance just moments ago.

“Sooo…what do ya say-? Round two when we get back to the hotel?” Joe asks.

“Oh, definitelyyy.”

-

[snellyfish]

if you haven’t yet you should totally check out Dungeon Meshi! probably my 3rd favorite anime under Houseki no Kuni in 2nd and Blue Submarine No.6 in 1st (which you should also check out)

Also, what are your opinions on kirukiyo? ik you’re not super into DR anymore I was just curious

Oh YEAH it's been impossible to escape any mention of Dungeon Meshi lately especially on Xitter, I haven't got super far into it but I plan on reading the manga at some point, as I'm a huge fan of its themes and what all I've secondhand gathered from the character writing. The character designs themselves are incredibly compelling as well, despite having seen very little Kabru in episodes and nothing at all of Mithrun, I'm still like a little enamored with both of them as characters and their tropes<3 I really do hope the fandom isn't hyping up aspects that don't exist for more than a panel, tho, I've been duped before but I really do have high hopes for Dunmeshi 🤞 As it stands from what I've ACTUALLY personally consumed of the media, Chilchuck and Laios might be my favorites.... Killfuck......... Incredibly readable personalities from designs alone, something I absolutely strive for in character design, so it's awesome to see it actually done well in anime; lord knows there's too much bland same face syndrome in most animes. The first episodes were a little annoying but I often feel this way with introductory episodes, (Soul Eater flashbacks) it picked up pretty quick with its darker tones, the Red Dragon 2 parter was insane ♥️♥️♥️

Maybe one day I'll get into Houseki no Kuni, I tried back when it first came out and I was like 14-ish and didn't vibe with it, but my media literacy was absolutely ass until like. last week. /j. I also have not heard of Submarine No.6 But I shall look into it!! :D

ALSO HI :-) Despite being the world's biggest unconditional multi-shipper ever, I do genuinely think if it hadn't been for Angie I would be a much bigger Kirukiyo shipper ... They're kinda like perfect together when I think about it sometimes. HAUNTING. I wish I got more into them because their aesthetics match so well and they always seemed like the most proper, modest, and mature members of the group; quiet and analytical overseers minding their own business for the most part. I thhhink I recall Korekiyo recognizing some fun cultural stuff from her talent room before the others figured out who it belonged to, but I might be tweaking. However, Kirumi as a character I tend to see pretty concretely aroace, or at least somewhere on the ace spectrum, so I don't tend to feel too strongly about romantic ships with her-- Regardless, their potential dynamic and dialogs with each other are interesting enough that if they just spent the rest of their lives chilling drinking tea and doing chores with each other all day I think love truly could win.

[maxbegone]

a late-to-the-game wip wednesday! still trudging away here. this thing is gonna be...woof. long, to say the least. hopefully it's enjoyable, though ♥️

Everyone had their experiences when the end came — for Alex, it was a lot of survival mode and getting to where they needed to go before it was too late. June doesn’t love talking about it; she spent most of her nights in the beginning wide awake and stressed to the point that Alex swore she was going to make herself seriously sick. Nora was similar, but not as extreme.

No one rested, no one functioned properly. It was terrifying.

“It’s a miracle we even made it here in the first place,” Alex starts. “It’s not like we had go-bags or a plan or anything, but what started as a whisper at the top of the food chain soon became an avalanche, and my mom was calling my dad and telling him to get us and get the fuck out of New York.”

“Your parents seem civil,” Henry says pointedly, and Alex could laugh.

“They haven’t always been. Believe me, when you live with two politicians growing up, it’s like real life Face The Nation.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“A political talkshow, don’t worry about it.” Alex focuses on the gentleness of Henry’s fingers and continues. “He called me and June up, told us to pack as much as we could and that he would be by us within the hour. We shoved the important things in suitcases, sentimental shit, whatever felt right. And Nora had actually just moved into a new place so she was pretty much ready to go from the jump. My dad grabbed us, and all he had was what he packed for his trip.

“My mom spent so much time in DC throughout the year, that she and Leo actually got a place there, so they were able to get what they needed. Then we got a hold of Raf and told him to meet us in Hudson Valley because this was Leo’s family’s place. Same thing with Zahra and Shaan, but they took a while to get here.”

“All of them?”

“Zee and Shaan were in DC, too, because she was my mom’s right hand, but they got caught in a major detour that took them into a weird part of Pennsylvania until they were able to turn around. And Raf was in a safe haven.”

At this point, Henry’s hand has gone still on Alex’s chest, his palm flat against his sternum. Alex offers him a smile. “It took the four of us three days to get here with all of the roadblocks, Mom and Leo arrived two days after. And then we figured things out as they came; the towns nearby evacuated, people went north or to the midwest, tried to get as far away from the congested areas as they could.”

“Why not just stay here?” Henry asks him. “It’s rural enough, no?”

“Couldn’t tell you,” Alex replies. “Maybe people just wanted to get to their families, if they could.”

“How did you handle all of it? Genuinely?”

“About as well as you could expect,” he admits. “No one knew what was going on.”

“No, I know that, but—you.”

Alex takes a deep breath. Okay. They’re going there. Something he hasn’t really done since he sat with June out in a pasture and watched the sunrise. “I really didn’t think we were going to make it past the year,” he admits aloud for the first time ever. He notably doesn’t look at Henry. “I thought it would all happen again and we’d be taken out.”

Henry sits up. “Alex…”

“It’s okay,” he tells him, smile falling tight. “I’m okay.”

“You’re okay,” Henry repeats.

[bradshawsbaby]

Oh my gosh Hi!! I hope you’re doing okay!

The coolest thing happened over thanksgiving break. We were looking through boxes of old pictures from my grandmother and we found a couple stacks of letters that my grandfather wrote to his parents during WWII!!

Immediately made me think of Letters to My Love! Even though these are to his parents, he didn’t meet my Gran till after the war. (Although he did mention someone named Norma in a couple letters. Haven’t figured out who she is yet)

Anyway I’ve been scanning and transcribing all the letters to share with the rest of the fam and it has just been so stinking cool!! Grandaddy died before I was born so it has been so cool and honestly kind of emotional getting to know him through these letters. He had such beautiful cursive handwriting that I would never had expected based on what I knew of him

And he was such a good writer! One thing he wrote that I thought was just so beautiful it made me cry: “Seeing everything you do here, Mom and Dad, you get so homesick you can hardly stand being gone. I don’t know when I’ve been so conscious of being from home and wanted back so terribly as I have during the last month or so. If you ever get me back, you’ll have someone devoted to home.” 😭😭😭 How touching is that?!?!

Anyway finding those just reminded me of your story and sweet Bobby and Peach!! I knew you’d appreciate how cool I think these letters are!! I’ve even put on your Letters Spotify playlist a couple times when I’ve been transcribing 😊

Oh my gosh, this is so awesome, I might cry!!! 🥺🥺

I actually have not been having a very good week, but this message made me so happy! What a wonderful and personal way to get to know your grandfather! I bet each letter feels like a brand new adventure ☺️

I’m so touched that your grandfather’s letters reminded you of Bobby and Peach, and that you’ve listened to the LtML playlist while transcribing them! That’s so amazing! ♥️🥹

[blurredout10]

✨💖✨ ask time:

🍉in what ways has writing helped you process trauma and/or navigate through your own life?

🎀give yourself a compliment about your own writing

💞what's the most important part of a story for you? the plot, the characters, the worldbuilding, the technical stuff (grammar etc), the figurative language

💐 Mystery Question 💐

Why am I using flowers? That’s not the question.

What’s your process for coming up with new scenarios and ideas? I know you’ve share a few WIPs and I’m curious what inspires you since some of these ideas feel so unique and inspired.

AHHHHHHH I LOVE YOU ♥️♥️♥️♥️

From this ask.

!SPOILERS!

🍉 - in what ways has writing helped you process trauma and/or navigate through your own life?

Oh dang. Heavy question.

a lot I guess. most (if not all) of my fics have some weight of underlying struggle that needs to be worked on.

DMD, of course, has reader and her emotional issues, that taunting reminder that she works so intimately with life and death and how her morals teeter from one side to the other. I think the concept of death is far too complicated and not talked about enough, so for personal reasons (in preparation for when I’ll be in the field) I wanna set a healthy mindset in knowing what to do when I do struggle with it.

That, as well as navigating through emotional hypersensitivity was very ✨projection✨ of me. I think the poetic vibe of that fic helps me understand what goes on in my own head, I only properly understand things when they’re explained abstractly.

I (thankfully) haven’t experienced death of a loved one, but I have been around many who have. So some of the character death is relevant for who others have felt. I consider myself to be pretty empathetic (kinda have to be if I’ll work with patients) so truly understanding what others go through is something I wanna permanently incorporate into my way of living.

For RTL, I’d say amnesia has been a sensitive topic for me personally. I had this moment (paired with unwise decisions) and had pretty bad temporary amnesia. Couldn’t remember my name, my age, my family, nor the fact I was sitting in the car in front of my home.

Having that kinda awakening when it subsided was the greatest and most terrifying feeling I’ve ever experienced. Memories overwrite the rest with a ghost of the past and you get smacked in the face that you forgot the face of those you loved.

If I must suffer. Then so must sixty. 🧍🏻‍♀️😌

Cupcake is all mental health issues. I didn’t explore it thoroughly because a topic such as a struggling negative mindset is worth far more than a one-shot. But I do like the concept of Sixty only speaking in code, not really able to voice how he feels or that he needs help.

I do use writing as a method of processing. It helps me reflect into a better person. ♥️🫂♥️🫂♥️🫂♥️

🎀 - give yourself a compliment about your own writing

🧍🏻‍♀️…no?

🔫🧍🏻‍♀️okay fine.

Erm. Something something. the fact it’s finished? that’s not even true, most of them are finished at least?

OH I do really like the little snippets and poems in DMD. I really like talking like I’m some poet doing a Ted talk. It’s hilarious. But also very exciting. ✨🧍🏻‍♀️✨

💞 - what's the most important part of a story for you? the plot, the characters, the worldbuilding, the technical stuff (grammar etc), the figurative language

Ooooh I have answered this here.

💐 - What's your process for coming up with new scenarios and ideas? | know you've share a few WIPs and I'm curious what inspires you since some of these ideas feel so unique and inspired.

👀👀👀 INTERESTING QUESTION

honestly I do like to just be looking around, going on a walk or out with friends etc, and I like thinking anything could be a fic.

Oh, is that a tree? why not make a fic ‘tree’ centric? you can go all symbolism about a childhood besties to lovers fic as the tree ages; as the leaves die and are reborn, so is their relationship every year. and when it bears fruit, their relationship takes a sweet turn.

There’s symbolism everywhere. Foods. Drinks. The most mundane has the best flavour✨✨ there can be a fic in everything, taking real life examples or reflections help me add a feel to the fic too.

Otherwise… Pinterest. I love making vibe boards. Fic boards. Etc.

THANK YOU FOR YOUR SCRUMPTIOUS ASK I LOVE YOU ♥️🫂♥️🫂♥️🫂♥️🫂♥️🫂♥️

[formula-fun]

Hi, love! ♥️ Just wanted to let you know that after each update of your fic, I need a couple of days to recover and stop non-stop thinking about it. 😂 (You’re THAT good of a writer 🤷🏻‍♀️😭❣️) As always, incredible work, I love how you choose not to rush things and do justice to your characters by giving them time to grow. Though, I’d REALLY love them to have a baby by the end of the series, I can see your point of not trying to “force” a baby into their lives for the time being. With that being said, please, take your time (as if you need me to give you a permission for that) and do what feels natural and right. I’ll be over here impatiently waiting to read ANY POTENTIAL chapter 3, 4, 5, 6 … of the series (🥹🙏🏻🤞🏻) as well as ANY of your work. Have a beautiful day/night. LOVEEEEE ♥️

P.S. For the future, I think, I’d love to see the possible/potential chapter 3 of the series cover their journey to pregnancy/parenthood and will be fairer to Charles, his condition, gender and first pregnancy. Again, absolutley NO pressure, just a mere idea. 🤞🏻❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️

M

Hiii thank you so much!! You’re so sweet 💛💛 It’s been so fun to write something kinda heavy and slow like this, and I really love knowing people like reading it and digesting it slowly too!! So glad you’re liking it 💛 I’m gonna answer the rest under the cut in case it’s spoilers that people don’t want!

I know a lot of people want them to have a baby really soon and I definitely thought about it, but ultimately it’s not something I really think is possible in this fic. this has always been a fic about them having a miscarriage and dealing with how it’s pushed them together or apart. The core of it to me has always been about how that’s a catalyst for them exploring themselves and their own relationship, and the ultimate conclusion of a story that explores those things is them finding resolution with themselves and each other, not just an answer to whether or not they can have a baby. They’re only just figuring out how to love each other and do their jobs while also acknowledging their own needs, and to throw a baby in at the very end that would put their careers on hold and completely change the dynamic of a household they haven’t even really built yet just didn’t feel right to them or to their kid. So idk if you’ll see that in chapter 6, sorry for the spoiler! I promise they’ll have more than enough on their hands without a baby on top of it

Also, the pregnancy was kinda one in a million already, and Charles hasn’t even been to the doctor yet to make sure he’s okay. Max doesn’t even know if he wants to retire or if he was just using Charles’ pregnancy as a reason to put his career on hold. They have a lot to figure out so it might not be possible for them, at least not right now!! And do they even want it rn? Who knows. They certainly do not fjgjfhdhfh like they haven’t even had The Talk yet. Are they even together???? They don’t know they love each other. They have some things to talk about before they have a child

BUT! If it makes you feel better in my head there is a universe where they never have kids and adopt once they’re 40, and there’s a universe where they have three kids. Life is easier for them in the universe where they adopt, but in both they’re ultimately happy. Idk if I’ll ever write either since this fic consumed my life already but I do have a vague outline of what would happen if Charles were to get pregnant again. It’s about as intense emotionally as this was, and a lot more complicated. Raising kids is hard, especially when one parent is always on the road. But idk!!! If I end up writing it it’ll probably be less linear than this and more of a series of vignettes or something

Thank you so much, I appreciate your patience so much and just am genuinely so happy to get comments like this 💛💛💛💛 love love love hearing from people about my silly little fic!!! you’re so so kind and I hope you’re doing well! Xoxoxoxoxo

[trademarkblue]

no rush at all just curious when we are getting the last chapter of Haunted? I love that fic and all your fics so much 😊❤️

Oh man. For some reason the chapter after a big relieving chapter of any fic where it’s been angsty and/or building to something is always a HUGE checkmate for me. The fic just stares me down, daring me to figure out how to write the rest of it lol.

I would love to say in a week or so, but I haven’t touched the document in at least that long, so that’s a yikes.

I think I can safely say some time in August I’ll wrap it up? 🙃

Thank you for caring about the story and the conclusion! ♥️

[nacaharachuya]

AH! do you have an exact age for everyone in the hnk au? ofc theyre all old af probably, and i think an anon mentioned about ranpo being 3,500+ yrs old! :0!

AGHHHH idk I was thinking about it tho like

Ranpo is pretty damn old he might be Fukuzawas first along with someone like Yosano coming next too as the ones who are 3500+ years old. Kouyou in this au I haven’t decided on her story exactly but if so she would be decently old too.

Ango and people like Oda would be less than those before so I think 2500 ish

Ofc I think there are people between this rung and the others below.

Skk are my little confusing dudes cause I’m trying to figure out their age. 1200-2000 anywhere between then but if you all had ideas then I would love to hear♥️♥️♥️♥️😽😽😽

The rest of them like in my mind: (tell me if I’m making them too young)

Kyouka: youngest? Around 50-100

Kenji: a bit older 100-200

Lucy: 800

Atsushi: 800 ish

Aku: 900

Gin: 850

Kuni: 1000 something

Katai: also 1000 something

Poe would be super old like ranpo too now that I think of it. BUT YALL TELL ME IM STILL LEARNING

[therelentless]

سلام عزیزم

You are indeed a very funny guy. I re-read your letter over and over with a smile and a desire that I was as eloquent as you.

I’ll let you know I’m not a ghost, although there are people who say the way I’ve chosen to live my life isn’t really “living.” I’d love to meet a ghost though. Or an alien. Vampires I’ve got taken care of.

You should know that if you’ve ever doubted your romantic qualities, your reply letter should put all those doubts to rest. What a romantic you are. I almost feel the need to enclose a naughty Polaroid, but not only would that ruin the mystery, but that’s not something I’ve ever done before. I’ve never done any of this before, actually. When I said I’d be willing to give you everything, you really would have my everything, I’ve never so much as held hands with someone romantically. These letters are out of character for me.

In that vein I do feel as if I’ll run out of things to say rather quickly. How many times can one say “Nandor, I’m obsessed with you, and I’m upset that you inevitably will be disappointed in me?” Maybe I can just start making these letter short short and just write “nice ass.” But I like these long, romantic paragraphs, and I think you do too. You seem like the kind of man who used to write poetry for his lovers. I’m no poet, but I do want to take care of you and be taken care of in turn. I think you haven’t been completely doted over and spoiled in a very long time, and I think you’d do the same for me. I’ve never once been spoiled, my own father never gave me a birthday or Christmas present because he didn’t think I deserved it.

As for a location to store these, I’ve seen behind the house there is what appears to be an old mailbox someone nailed to a tree who knows long ago. (Maybe you do, I don’t know!) At this point it’s just some wood arranged in sort of a box shape nailed to an old tree, but it could function as our letter box. If you agree, leave the next letter there and I’ll fetch it as long as you agree not to spy on the box 24/7 to see who walks by.

My love, where do we go from here?

You’ll have to forgive me because my Farsi is very rough. I only started learning it a few months ago to impress you- on your last letter, I think you said something about someone named Omar? Who is that?

To end, I’m upgrading you from smiley faces to hearts. He’s a line of hearts I’ve doodled just for you. The last one is a heat being stabbed by a cool dagger.

❤️💕❤️♥️💗🖤🗡️🩸

فقیر تو

{ ??? ;;

A man. That lived in the house. That had never met a ghost? well, now this was starting to get more difficult to figure out. But what if he was not a man? what if this was only a lie to throw him off? or what if this was one of those catfishing situations that Guillermo kept warning him about (but he always kept falling for it)? no, it couldn't be.

عزیزم

Before I say anything else, I do have a great ass, but if you know me, then you know this already. Maybe you have even taken one of those polaroid instant camera pictures of my ass already. You little pervert. It's ok, if I wasn't myself, I would have taken a picture of this ass too.

I don't know if I'm as romantic as you think I am, I like to believe that I have my moments, but if I compare myself to Laszlo, then I believe I'm lacking in experience... though I know someone who believes otherwise, besides yourself. Kinda makes me feel a bit jealous of him. I'm good when it comes to poetry, used to write it to my wives all the time and read it to them too.. at least to some of them. I miss that. Anyway, in fact, the words that I sent you in that last letter came from my favorite poem, the correct translation is "The part of life you lived without love doesn't count."

But if you believe me to be romantic, I suppose I can accept it, and won't argue against this, but it is easy to be this way when the things I read are quick to make me smile and make me feel like a little brown bat that had just woken up after six months of hibernation only to find the biggest pile of dead insects right before his eyes ready for him to eat. So yes, I enjoy these paragraphs, and these letters a bit too much, but how can I not? I have experienced a lot of things in my life, but this kind of back and forth. The secret letters. The secret admirer. Well, that's a first.

To answer your question, where do we from here? I'm not quite sure myself, maybe eventually we will figure it out. A few months ago I would have said that we should get married and live this eternal life together, but apparently, people now consider this "moving too fast" and is not something they tend to like, on top of that... I'm sure that since you live here, you're also aware of my romantic mishaps, or how my last marriage ended up. On top of this, I'm going through a rough patch, after my former best friend left me, so yes, I'm in a very vulnerable place at the moment. These letters are a nice distraction from all that.

P.S.

- Your dad sounds like a dick.

2nd P.S.

- It's a bat house. The small box behind the house. We put it there a long time ago, but I had forgotten all about it until now, in fact, I believe everyone has. This works perfectly.

3rd and final P.S. .. I think.

- The little drawing of the sword, what does that suppose to mean? should I be worried about something? looks dangerous if you combine it with the heart.

[moon-sang]

Could I request reader gets hurt but doesn’t want to tell Din Djarin cos reader doesn’t want to distract him from the kid? Also I LOVE UR WORK! ♥️♥️♥️

STUCK - Din x Reader

SUMMARY: Grogu has just been rescued from Gideon, The Crest was in good shape, Din was happy! Everything seemed perfect…. Except they weren’t…. Just as you made your leap to the Crest Gideon manages to slash at you hip with his saber, Din is having such fun with the kid you don’t want to seperate the two of them, with your issue.

WORD COUNT: 856

WARNINGS: angst, reader is wounded, description of wound (not too gothic), reader hides wound from Din, pls tell me if I miss anything

~~~~~ Your breathes were ragged and heavy. Your head pounded, and your left hip screamed at you, shooting blinding pains through your abdomen.

You applied more pressure onto the wound hoping to suppress some of the pain, but only aggravated it even more. You silently whimper, tears stinging at the edges of your eyes. “Mesh’la?” Your head whips up, eyes meeting Mando’s glossy black visor. “Y-es” you reply through gritted teeth. “… we’ve been busy for the last three days tracking Grogu and today, rescuing him, you’ve barely had time to shower…. I’m playing with Grogu at the moment, why don’t you have a shower, and when your done I’ll have one?” You couldn’t use words to express how grateful you were at that moment, so you offer Din your biggest, and warmest smile instead with a small nod. ~~~~~

The steaming hot water worked wonders on your skin as it washed down every inch of your body. For the first few minutes the water stung like hell, especially on you left hip, you were even tempted to turn it off at one point, but it got better. You scrubbed the dust and grime off your body, taking special care on your hip. When you reached your hip, you gently washed some of the blood off. The blood was sticky and as water trickled down your hip, a clot of blood splashes down the drain with the water. You sigh. The buzz of the darksaber still rung in your head as clear as day, the strike of the darksaber haunted you and you shiver regardless of being in hot water. You take in a small breath and step out of the shower.

~~~~~

Once your clothes are on and your hair is dried enough, you make your way to the cockpit. You make sure that you put on an oversized jumper because you knew your wound would leak through the thin clothing you wore now. If there was a medkit around, some bacta, or at least some bandages you would’ve taken care of your hip yourself… but there was nothing…. You ran out of medkits way back when Din really wounded himself, and haven’t had the chance to go shopping since. 

As you climbed up the ladder to the cockpit you could hear joyful babbles and the deep throaty chuckles that you held close to your heart from Din. He was so…. Happy. You feel a small smile tug at the edges of your lips as you approach the two of them. Big beady eyes met yours as you sat next to Grogu and cradled an arm around his small figure. You smile at Din and say “Your turn” whilst rubbing the small silky hairs at the top of the kids green head. As you turn your attention to Grogu a blinding pain ripples through your hips, making it’s way all the way up to your chest. Your vision goes black, your breathes become even more heavy, and your head almost feels…. Numb. This time you can’t help but let out a choked sob. It was a loud yelp and it bounced off the cockpits walls. A small green claw rests on your arm, but you can barely recognise it because the pain doesn’t subside this time. The wound doesn’t just sting… but it burns as well. You try desperately calling for Din but nothing but a whisper of his name comes out. Your back hits something cold, you can’t tell if it’s the wall, or the floor, your world is spinning and you can feel your blood slowly begin to circulate around you on the floor. You try one last desperate attempt of calling for Din but you just can’t feel anything, nor control any part of your body anymore. So you just lay there limply. Your eyes are heavy but your inner fighter kicks in and you force them to stay open for as long as you can.

~~~~~

Din walks into the refresher, ready to strip his clothes and take a nice… warm…shower, when he hears a muffled noise. It peaked his interest… what was that? He presumed you were just mucking around with the kid. So after a few minutes of waiting to see if any other noise comes he steps into the shower now fully undressed. Momentarily after he turns the steamy water on he hears a small knock. He turns off the water to clarify whether he was hearing things or if someone actually knocked…. But there it came again… knock, knock followed along with a line of babbles and coos. Din sighs to himself. “One minute kid I’m in the shower” Din shouts.  Din is about to Turn the water back on when he hears the knock again. “I said… just-a-minute!” Din growls a little more sternly. When Din hears another knock moments later, he quickly dries himself off and pulls his clothes on. He smashes his hand on a button which opens the hatch. On the other side of the hatch stood a small green alien with innocent glossy eyes, and two floppy ears. “What?!” Din questions as sternly as possible. Grogu’s small claw slowly points up the cockpit where you laid. “Huh- what is it?” Din says a little more gently now. “Patu” Grogu responds with a cute voice. “Y/n?” Din shouts confused. No answer. Din felt his heart drop as he played over the things that could have happened to you whilst he was in the hull of the Crest showering. With that he runs and climbs up the ladder to the cockpit.  ~~~~~ You don’t know how long you laid there on the cold floor of the Crest, but eventually a silver blur came into your sights. Warmth (most likely from a hand) rested on your wound and you twitched. Your mind wouldn’t focus on one thing - it was like one of those moments when you woke up in the middle of the night but were still half asleep and couldn’t focus on anything clearly. “Din” you manage to croak out. You heard him say through a muffled voice “it’s………ok…..fine…….your fine………Mesh’la……your…….safe…………gonna…hurt……little…….bit……ready?………..1…….2……-” you jolt up as an electricity surges through your body, you yelp in surprise at the same time. “Hey, hey, hey!- I got you.” He cradles you in his arms until you slightly calm down… air had definitely returned to your lungs but you knew you needed bandages. “Stay-here-one-second” Din murmurs to you. He pushes you up slightly against the wall so you sat up a little and went away to get something.  ~~~~~ when your eyes open to light Din is no longer a blur and your lying in the cramped space of his bed. “Hey cyar’ika” Din says whilst rubbing light circles on your head with his thumb. You slightly smile. “W-where’d you get the bandages?” You question as you realise your stomach is wrapped up all the way down to your ribs. “I had spare bandages in my drawer……. Why…why didn’t you tell me?” You break eye contact with him for a second. “I-I -I didn’t want to bother you with my wound when you were having such fun with Grogu.” You almost whisper. Din moves back in shock. After a few moments of silence he finally replies, a bit too stern for your liking at first. “You listen to me mesh’la …… you will never bother me.” You crumble at his words and tears spill out over the blankets. Careful not to hurt your wounded hip Din takes you in his arms and gently kisses your forehead whispering sweet nothings to you… he was so tender with his family…. You really did  l o v e him.

- hope you enjoyed mandaloriansgal 😁 

[matt-erialgirl]

How would Matt take care of you when your migraines hit? Sounds like it’s a common occurrence for you babeyy 😞 feel better soon

Awe babes thank you so much ♥️ it’s a shitty but common occurrence indeed. can’t not say that 50% of the times i get them, it’s because im not taking good care of myself so babies PLEASE care for yourselves, your well-being and your bodies ✨

Before I get into this, I’m letting you know rn im basing this off my own experience with migraines. And hey, if you dont get them, I’m so happy for you God bless. If you get them, come cry with me.

Migraines are different for everyone (symptoms, severity, how long they last) but mine make me extremely sensitive to light and sound. Everything is just ten times brighter and ten times louder and the actual headache sits on half my forehead, that same side’s ear, jaw and that whole side of my skull. It can hang around for as long as 48 hours. Turning this into a cute little drabble or whatever because cute

__

Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

Every tick sounded louder than the last, each one thudding in your ears with an echo that felt like it was vibrating inside your skull. You laid there, body curled up on the leather sofa, head tucked under a throw pillow to avoid the purple lights pouring into Matt’s living room as your head continued to pound to the sound of the clock; in sync.

You wanted to get up and rip it off the wall but that meant having to pull your head out from the dark and open your eyes; both thoughts sounded absurd to you in your mind. So, you stayed put, squeezing your eyes shut, willing the sounds and lights to fade away.

What felt like hours later, you heard Matt enter the apartment, slamming the door shut behind him only to hear you groan in pain at how loud the slam sounded in your ears.

Matt’s head tilted to follow the sound you made, quickly figuring out that something was wrong. He could hear your heart pounding, your breathing was ragged, your nails scratching against the fabric on his pillows.

”baby?” He whispered gently, piecing his observations together, throwing everything down by the door and discarding his suit jacket on the opposite sofa.

“another migraine?” he breathed as he bent down at his knees to be level with you, his palm gently resting against your back while your head remained under the pillow.

”it’s so bad,” you breathed, barely a whisper, but he heard you. He swiftly got up to his feet, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt to roll the sleeves up to his elbows. He made his way to the kitchen, filling a tall glass with water and finding your migraine medication before bringing it all back to you.

He felt bad having to rouse you from your hideout, knowing exactly how terrible you would feel the second the dark was ripped away from you. “try to get up and take this please,” he said gently, keeping his voice down, “I know you probably haven’t.”

Your head pounded harder as you started to move, pushing the pillow off your head and pulling your head out of the corner of the sofa. A small whimper fell from your lips as a searing pain shot through the side of your head, your eyes struggling to open up.

“it’s so bright,” you huffed, squinting to see Matt’s outstretched hands and taking the tablet and glass from him, “thank you, Matty.”

”I’ll be right back,” he said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before he started flitting around his apartment. You watched him through a crack in your eyes, a small smile making its way to your lips as you realised what he was doing.

Matt switched off every light in sight, the clicking if the switches loud in your ears as he moved quickly between them. Next, he placed a roll of thick cloth tape on the coffee table before he made his way into the bedroom, coming back with three folded blankets.

You watched in silent gratitude as Matt taped the blankets to his large windows, making a note in the back of your mind of the need of actual curtains, even if the windows don‘t bother him.

Without a second thought, he made his way over to the clock on the wall by the bedroom and pulled it down, putting an end to its incessant ticking and relieving it of its batteries. A sigh of relief tumbled out of your lips at the absence of sound. Your head falling back against the sofa, eyes shut.

”what else do you need, baby?” Matt asked gently, coming up to you from behind the sofa and placing his palm gently against your cheek.

”blindfold,” you told him quietly, slowly turning your head to the side and pressing a gentle kiss to the inside of his palm, “it’s in the-“

”bedside table drawer,“ he finished with a nod, gently rubbing his thumb across your temple before pulling away to retrieve the black silk scarf you used specifically for this.

He knew it was because no matter how hard you squeezed your eyes shut, it still felt like you could see and it wasn’t dark enough. But part of him also knew you found relief in the fabric squeezing your temples and pushing against your eyes.

He sat down next to you, scarf in hand, his heart aching at the mere thought of you in pain. He reached out and felt for your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze so you’d get up for him tie the silk around your eyes.

You sat up, eyes closed and facing him. “Okay,” you breathed before Matt pulled the silk up to your eyes. As he brought it around to the back of your head, you leaned forward, placing your forehead against his shoulder so the knot was easier for him to tie.

”Tighter, please,“ you whispered against his shoulder.

Matt obliged, pulling the fabric a little tighter around your head, a sigh falling from your lips as he tied it there.

”Thank you,” you smiled, reveling in the darkness you now found yourself in, the pressure around your head heavenly against the pain.

Matt smiled and pulled you close, slotting you into his side, your legs draped over his thighs and your head in the crook of his neck. His hand went up to run through your hair to lull you to sleep, while the other traced patterns onto your thigh. Slowly, you started to calm down, your breathing getting slower and deeper as you started to drift off, Matt not once leaving your side.

[grippingbeskar]

Congratulations on 2k!!! You know I’m crazy in love with your writing and your imagination and creativity! You truly have such a skill and talent 💕 To celebrate, May I request 🍟9 with of course Frank Castle? I’m head over heels for the way you write Frank, you’re so good at capturing his character. Thank you for all your wonderful art that you share with us! ♥️

— ahhh YOUUUU!!! thank you so so much! this prompt literally screams frank omfg. and you are so sweet- this makes me so happy 🥹 u MAKE ME CRYYY

—prompt:

🍟 9. kill me right now, then. do it.

—warnings: mention of death, blood, swearing

[grippingbeskar’s 2k night out celebration!]

The rain was pouring, flying sideways and pelting into your skin as you steadied yourself. Frank was already pointing a gun at you, but you could read him like a book. It was easy— fighting The Punisher, it was simple. Black and white.

What you hadn’t counted on, was the man underneath that name. Fighting Frank Castle, well, that was a whole different ball game.

“You can’t do it.” You take a step towards him, his face obscured by the rushing downpour of rain. “Just like I couldn’t.”

“You shouldn’t be here.” Frank shouts, and you take another step. You haven’t reached for your weapon— you wouldn’t. Because you knew he wouldn’t shoot. Just like you wouldn’t reach for your own weapon.

“It’s too late for that. You know it is.” You were almost touching each other now, the barrel of Franks gun pressing into your stomach. “I can’t let this go, Frank.”

“You’re gonna have to.”

“Or what? You’ll shoot me?” Squaring your shoulders, you blink up at him, trying to see his face clearly through the rain.

“Yeah. I will.”

“Kill me right now, then. Do it.” You say, deathly calm, and wrap your fingers around Franks wrist. You slowly bring the barrel of the gun upwards, drifting higher until it rests on your forehead. “Make this all go away.”

For a second, you think you’ve read it wrong. That maybe he doesn’t feel this… thing, between the two of you. Or maybe that he does, but he isn’t as delusional as you are to think you might be able to work it out, when this all ends.

It never would, not until one of you was dead. You knew that, he knew that, and yet something inside of you stopped you pulling the trigger every time. For a moment you shut your eyes, afraid that he doesn’t have that same barrier. That he’ll really shoot you, and end all of this. You might even be a little relieved, if your heartbreak wasn’t so obvious.

The barrel of the gun falls away, metal clattering against the concrete of the rooftop.

“This won’t stop.” You say, bending down and picking up his weapon. “Until you pull that trigger, I won’t stop. Everywhere you are, I will be. Even if you don’t see me, I’ll be there. Waiting for you to slip up and tell me what I need to know.”

“What then? You’ll kill me? We’re right back to square one, sweetheart.” The endearment makes you consider shooting him with his own weapon, but you just shove it back into his chest, knowing it’s useless against you.

“I won’t kill you. But I will get what I want. One way or the other.”

You spin and run, darting off the rooftop and disappearing into the dark night sky. Frank watches you go, a little frozen in place. The one thing he knows, the one thing he’s good at— he couldn’t fucking do. Couldn’t pull the trigger on you.

He had no idea why— why he never hits too hard, pulls his punches and lets you take him down, why he always shows up where you are, pretending to be on his own mission.

He wouldn’t kill you… but someone else would, especially if you kept running around like you were. So he would too. He would keep chasing, you would keep running, and maybe, one day, you’d stop running and he’d catch you long enough to figure out why the hell he couldn’t put you down like he did everyone else.

The weapon in his hands fumbles as he goes to put it away, but something metal falls on the ground, passed with the gun you handed back to him. A key, old and scratched up, but he knew where it was for.

Your next hit. Where you’d be next. You were asking him to chase you, and he didn’t even pause to catch his breath before he started running again.