#I’m burnt out and the only thing that will fix it is time to relax and process my trauma but that’s physically unobtainable for me right now

[linuxthegeek]

-

[peaktora]

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒: 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 ˚◞♡ ⃗ dad!satoru gojo

𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙬 ┊you and your daughter make breakfast for gojo’s birthday. unlucky for you, gojo’s a little impatient.

𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 ┊1.3k words. established relationship. the reader is referred as “mommy” by the kid & “wife” from gojo, but other than that there’s no use of fem terms.

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚.┊ for the sake of this scenario everyone pretend it’s december 7th & it’s gojo’s birthday

you hold the bowl of pancake batter, its creamy consistency clinging to the sides. with a gentle tilt, you pour the batter onto the pan, creating round pools of golden goodness. the batter spreads, forming wonky circles that sizzle and bubble as they cook. the aroma of the pancakes fills the air, a tantalizing scent that promises a delicious breakfast. you can’t help but turn up the heat so that they cook faster.

“mommy, i think i’m turning into a minion,” your daughter calls out from behind.

you turn around, only to find her sitting at her mini table. her eyes are fixed on her tiny fingers, that are spread out in front of her.

“what do you mean?" your words hang in the air momentarily before you turn your gaze back to the stove. with a flick of your wrist, you flip the pancakes, their golden surfaces glistening in the warm light.

“’m turning purple! look!”

you take another glance back. her hands in the air being the first thing you see. but, then you notice the bag of blueberries sitting on the table.

your lips quiver as you fight to stifle your smile. “baby, it’s the the blueberries you’re munching on that are making you purple.”

her eyes widen, she lowers her hands, and this time she looks at them with a slight pout.

you return to making pancakes, plating the few that seemed to be done. one was on the verge of being burned, and you intended to give it to gojo. he's been calling you nonstop ever since you came downstairs this morning, asking for updates on his birthday breakfast. you're sure if it hadn't been for your baby girl (who insisted on giving her father breakfast in bed), you'd have forced him get up and do it himself by now.

"mommy, can we put blueberries in the pancakes? pretty please?”

“of course.”

you don’t need to turn around to know what your child is up to. you hear the unmistakable sound of her stuffing blueberries into her mouth. a soft giggle escapes your lips as you imagine the adorable scene unfolding behind you.

"yay!! speci...purpl...pancakes!" the excitement in her voice is evident, even with her mouth full.

"hey! if you're gonna be putting blueberries in the pancakes, you can't be eatin-" just then, your phone rings.

you catch a glimpse of the screen, noticing the familiar contact photo under 'my love'. oh, he's definitely getting a burnt pancake. you might even make another on purpose.

knowing he'll just ask about breakfast, you decide to watch it ring. he calls at least twice before his voice echoes through the house, urgently calling for his daughter to answer the phone. with blueberry-stained hands, she skips to the counter, reaching for your phone and answering it.

“hi daddy!” she waves in the camera.

“hi my sweet girl, what’s your momma doing?”

she turns the phone around, and through the camera, gojo can see you plating the remaining pancakes from the pan.

“those are the boring pancakes, mama’s making purple ones next!”

“can i have some of the boring ones first? i’m starving,” your husband whines.

“no, no, no! mama said you have to wait.”

“can i see that?” you fumble, trying to find a clean spot on your apron to wipe your hands off.

your daughters huffs at gojo, eager to hand over the phone and retreats to her table.

on the screen, you’re greeted by the sight of gojo’s smile and his relaxed, sprawled-out posture.

despite his sweet face, you hover your finger over the end call button anyway. “bye satoru.”

his smile drops. “that’s not even fair. it’s been—what—an hour?”

“with lots of breaks thanks to you.”

“you can talk to me and cook…bonus points for me being able to watch you.”

at that, you roll your eyes.

he frowns. "what?”

“a few more minutes of waiting won’t hurt.” you press the "end call" button, cutting off gojo’s pleads mid-sentence.

he’ll be fine.

you gently place your phone on the counter, shifting your focus to your little one. with a warm smile, you ask, "you wanna add the blueberries now, baby?"

"huh?" she mumbles, raising her head from where she was plucking at her fingers. "what did y’say?”

you playfully shake the bowl of leftover pancake batter in front of your face, capturing your daughter's attention. it's your way of letting your daughter in on the secret, a non-verbal cue to convey what exciting plan you have in store next. “you ready?”

"yes!" she runs towards you, giggling uncontrollably. in her hands, she's got the bag of half-eaten blueberries. the ones you specifically told her not to keep munching on, but she couldn't really resist. as she draws near, she extends her hands high into the air, a silent request for you to lift her onto the counter. without hesitation, your arms embrace your little one, effortlessly hoisting her up. in a matter of seconds, she’s perched on the counter.

you both scoop a handful of blueberries, and sprinkle the berries into the bowl of leftover pancake batter, watching as the vibrant blue jewels disappear into the mixture.

just as you two start to get lost in your pancake-making, a faint sound of footsteps echoes from upstairs. your girl’s eyes widen as gojo sluggishly descends the stairs, rubbing his eyes and tousling his hair.

for a split second, you manage to catch his attention. you raise your brow, wondering if he ever learned the basics of patience (or if he learned patience at all). but, true to his slow demeanor, he remains unfazed, maintaining his relaxed pace.

with a sleepy smile, he joins you at the kitchen counter, wrapping his hands around your middle. the feeling is pure warmth, like a human blanket. it's amazing how, even after so much physical contact, his touch manages to make you feel cozier with each touch.

you lean in closer to him, trying to catch what he whispered in your ear. "hm? what was that?"

“food?”

you sigh, “I wanted us to all eat it together. when it’s done?”

he groans and retreats, making a beeline for the ready-made pancakes. you catch his eye and shout, "uhn uh!"

as your daughter continues to drop blueberries in the bowl, you quickly place your hand over her lap to keep her steady. with your other hand, you tug on gojo's sleeve. you give him a gesture to come back, and he follows your lead.

“I’ll do it,” you say.

you head over to the counter where the finished pancakes are, and plate a single piece. as you bring it to him, you glance at the black crispy top and think, "I definitely should've made more of these."

you slide the plate in front of him, and your daughter cringes at the sight. “ta-da! happy birthday baby! since it’s a special day I tried a new recipe and…” you shrug.

gojo licks his lips, bites them, and lets out a breathy laugh. he keeps glancing at you and then the pancakes, repeating the sequence.

you nod your head and motion towards the food with an open hand. “I thought you wanted to eat?”

glancing cautiously at his daughter, he replies, “wow, babe. you really outdid yourself this time. burnt pancakes?” he turns to you. “and you said you were a ‘better cook’ than me.”

you ignore his comment. “maybe I should make these more often? I kn— “

“oh, absolutely. I mean, who needs fluffy, huge pancakes when you can have charcoal—“ he picks up the pancake, “discs?”

with your daughter's laughter in the background, it creates a unique blend. it adds charm to your conversation, despite the contrasting moods.

you cross your arms, “you should be proud I made them without shape cutters. pretty creative,” you pause. “now eat up.”

“there’s no way in hell y—“

“daddy has to put money in the swear jar!”

[thesymphonytrue]

Hiiiiii I just have to ask if you have any Neal/Peter fic recs? On or off ao3, I'm just really craving some good sweet stories w them 😩

Hiiii!!!!

oooooo yesssss!!! Here are a few that I love:

a particular type of hat by natlet

I am obsessed with this fic. The writing style and language is sooo beautiful. GAH 😭 It's written with quite a few time jumps...so for me I had to take it slow and really enjoy and savor the fic. I mean just read this:

It's the first chance he's had to look at Neal, slow down and really look at him, and he's so - Peter can't find the words for it. Neal looks like a fascinating new case, like Mozzie's car, like the sun setting behind home plate. He looks like something Peter wants to get his hands on. His hair is longer, bleached light by the sun and curling in the sea air, and Peter wants to reach out, brush it back off his forehead, run his thumb along the line of stubble hugging Neal's jaw.

UGH gorgeous!!! I love this paragraph so much and the entire fic is written like this, so soft and beautiful.

this body is yours (your mess is mine) by multifandomjess

This is another fic I have read over and over. It's so well done and "fixes" that season five argument we all cry over 😭

an excerpt:

Peter is still against him, and for a moment Neal is worried that he’s misread everything and made a terrible mistake. But then, Peter makes a tiny, wanting sound and his eyelids are fluttering closed as his lips part beneath Neal’s. Neal smiles into the kiss, his heart racing as he threads his fingers through the short hair at the nape of Peter’s neck. His tongue sweeps along the seam of Peter’s lips to tangle with Peter’s, and they’re kissing, and kissing, and kissing.

T^T it's so soft. and I love it.

Cleaning Out the Wound by melenafrey

More Cape Verde goodness because god those episodes were romantic!! This one features protective Mozzie. 😂

 “Don’t you get what I’m trying to say here?" He closed his eyes and let his head fall forward the short distance to rest against Neal’s. He heard Neal’s surprised intake of breath, and then nothing. Neal stayed, and Peter could feel the weight of his heavy head as he relaxed into the touch.

MY HEART 😭

Company Picnic by laulan

This one is just short and literally sweet and SO them.

Then Neal catches Peter's wrist in his hand and brushes his lips over the pad of Peter's thumb, his eyes warm and devilish. Peter jumps, giving Neal a stern look and pushing down the lingering thought that he should go for it anyway, damn whoever's looking.

lol Neal literally is just tempting Peter this entire fic and it's adorable.

Awakening by Sulwen

haha can you tell I like Cape Verde fics? This one is really good. Very true to their characters.

“This wasn't supposed to be a chase!”

There's a long pause before Peter speaks again. “Tell me, then, Neal. What was it?”

Neal bows his head and stares at the floor, long enough for Peter to step forward again and reach out a tentative hand. He takes a deep breath. This isn't going to help. If anything, it's going to pull Peter in deeper, make him that much more determined. But he's talked himself into a corner, and he can't find a way to slip it. The only way out is through.

THAT DIALOGUE THO!!!

Undeniable by cookiegirl

This one is just cozy and soft and sweet and set in Copenhagen so what is not to like? It's like being wrapped in a warm hug!

Everything would be easier, Peter thinks, if Copenhagen wasn’t so damn romantic. He’s not usually one to notice things like that, but even he can’t miss the way that the October late-afternoon sun turns the water in Nyhavn harbor golden, and deepens the burnt orange and burnished yellow shades of the townhouses. Tourist couples stroll past, hand in hand, or sit close together at the outdoor tables of the tiny canalside cafes, and the air swirls with happy chatter and the strains of restaurant music. It is undeniably idyllic, and it’s making Peter’s skin itch.

Things would also be easier, of course, if Neal wasn’t so damn… Neal.

heeeheee!!!! so cute!!!

Five Kisses That Never Happened by china_shop

Just check out all of china_shop's stuff. I love their Peter/Neal fics and this one is pure fluff and warm feelings.

"Shut up," says Neal and leans into him, kisses him softly, over and over like he'll never get enough.

~~~~~~~

Okay those are my top favorites, but I think I have some more on my bookmarks on AO3 I think, so feel free to check them out. I don't usually recommend my own fics, but if you haven't read them I have a few fluffy Peter/Neal fics as well that I can share here if needed! <3 <3 <3 I hope this helps!! Thanks for the ask! I love talking fanfic!! :D

[ct2n]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Tips for burnout

Shifterss *ੈ✩‧₊˚

— *ੈ✩‧₊˚ Shifting motivation *ੈ✩‧₊˚—

u are in charge of ur journey, not anyone else. So if u don’t wanna shift again or “can’t” shift then take a break. Shifting isn’t a job or a career, it’s a skill u choose to use. Shifting doesn’t have to be difficult or complicated or frustrating.

Shifting also isn’t something u have to do right now. If u haven’t shifted yet then that’s fine but also take a moment to reflect on what’s causing u not to shift. Maybe it’s a method ur using, or ur head isn’t in the best place right now. Whatever it is, u need to deal with it to help u shift. I’m not saying u can’t shift without having worries or doubts or fears, but some things may be pushing u back or holding u back from shifting.shifting is 100% real so shift when u know ur ready. It may take a good minute but trying is better then not trying at all.

— *ੈ✩‧₊˚ Shifting mindset*ੈ✩‧₊˚—

reprogram ur mind to shift, if ur stuck on one aspect of shifting or ur not fully understanding how shifting works dont let that hold u back from shifting. U don’t have to understand something fully for mind to do it, u can just do it. Finding the mental block that keep holding u back and reprogramming ur mind to let go of that belief or behavior surrounding shifting. Will help u over come ur burn out and find out why it may not be happening for u right now.

Take some time to reflect on ur past shifting journey and try to figure out some reasons why u keep getting burnt out. Maybe ur focused on the wrong things like having ur script finished. Or ur not consistent enough with ur journey, or maybe ur to analytical about ur shifting journey. Whatever it maybe find it and accept it and move on. Change that part of ur journey and continue moving on. I’m not saying obess over that for weeks im saying use that to better urself and not do it in the future.

— *ੈ✩‧₊˚Taking Breaks *ੈ✩‧₊˚—

Take a break from ur shifting journey, and use that time to focus on something else, weather that be school, an hobby or just life in general. Take time to self reflect and care for urself. Shifting should be easy but if it isn’t that’s completely fine too but all im saying is if it’s getting more difficult for u, relax for a little bit then come back to shifting. And yk u must think “well what if im about to shift” or something like that. Baby shifting will always be there but ur mental health and time won’t. Burning urself out before u get to ur dr will make not only ur cr self burnt out but also ur dr self to. If you were to shift when u weren’t ready there might be things in ur dr that ur not prepared for mentally. Which will cause further damage to ur mental health then if u just took a break.

— *ੈ✩‧₊˚Stop putting shifting on a pedestal *ੈ✩‧₊˚—

Shifting isn’t a new idea or new concept that can magically fix ur problems. Shifting is real and when u shift all ur doing is shift to another version of life, it may be a slightly better version but it’s still life. When u realize that you’ll stop putting shifting on this high standard in ur life. Shifting is a skill and how u wanna use it is dependent on u. So don’t expect to shift to ur dr and have a magically time just cause u thought ur dr was some fanfic or fantasy for urself. Shifting is fun but only if u realize it’s a real thing. U will experience those things in ur dr and u will experience sadness and happiness.

Don’t use shifting as a way to escape ur cr. Like I said about it being real dont use it as a way to escape ur cr problems. Shifting is just shifting it isn’t a magical tool that will fix everything in ur life.

— *ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚—

Ik some of the stuff in here isn’t all sunshine in rainbows but some of yall needed to hear this stuff. But take care of urself and u will shift!!

[bked0n-lorazepam]

"Inseparable" Part Eleven

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Short Little Summary: They try to make pancakes, she gets fed up with him, a little something something occurs during shower time, and Patrick is a very possessive guy. (He gets a little freaky at the end)

Warnings: Vulgar language, groping, suggestive, no actual smut.

Words: 1,997

A/N: Chat, I'm so embarrassed right now, how could I forget this part. Anyway, I think cock-blocking Patrick is my favorite thing to do, it's so much fun. And sorry if you're favorite flower is carnations, I just thought of some random one, and sorry if you like cheese. Have fun reading, feedback is always welcome!!

---------------->

“What the fuck am I doing wrong?” Patrick yelled while holding onto the baking mix box, reading over the directions. Y/N sat on the counter, chewing on the leftover chocolate chips they didn’t use.

Patrick somehow ended up burning the pancakes, twice, so she gave up on breakfast. 

“Maybe stop staring at my tits and actually watch them cook.” She said and swung her legs back and forth, shoving a handful of chocolate chips in her mouth.

He glared at her and threw out the burnt pancakes, putting his hands on his hips and staring at the pan on the stove.

“I’m done with that shit.” Patrick murmured and opened the fridge, a slice of cheese appearing in his hand.

Y/N looked at him distastefully, her hatred of cheese showing all over her face. She hated the texture, the way it smelled, the way it tasted. She hated cheese more than she hated anything in the world, and she would forever stand by the fact that it was a food made by the devil himself.

Patrick slapped the cheese onto the counter next to Y/N, to which she flinched from the sudden loud noise.

“I want pancakes.” She whined, setting down the jar of chocolate chips and leaning back on her hands. Patrick took his eyes away from the cheddar on the counter to look at her, and he sneered.

“So make them your fucking self, lazy bitch.” He counteracted her complaint and picked the cheese slice back up, opening it and pulling off a small piece. His mischievous eyes didn’t stray from her tired ones as he chewed on the cheese like a damn cow.

“Fine, you fucking asshole.” Y/N hopped off the counter and wiped off any chocolate chips that may have been on her clothes before getting the stove and pan ready for pancakes, once again.

She had fixed up all the ingredients, after berating Patrick for somehow forgetting to add eggs into the pancake mix, and stood by the stove, watching her food cook.

Patrick was sitting down in one of the chairs that he stole from the dining room and was chewing on a plastic straw when Y/N had placed a plate of pancakes in front of him.

“Bon appétit.” She smiled exhaustingly, trying to rub the sleep from her eyes. She needed something to wake herself up for, but she didn’t know what.

Well, she didn’t know until she bit into one of her pancakes. “I think I’m gonna take a shower and do my makeup when we’re done eating.” 

“I don’t give a flying fuck.” Patrick was scuffing down the sweet breakfast before pausing and looking at her. “Wait, no. I wanna join.”

“Absolutely not.”

–

Y/N ran her fingers through her hair, closing her eyes and lathering the shampoo on her head. Showers were relaxing to her, especially feeling clean. They were her favorite thing in the world.

“Damn, did you know that John Lennon’s dead?”

They were her favorite when Patrick wasn’t with her.

“Yes, Patrick. He’s been dead since, like, forever.” Y/N rolled her eyes and put her head under the water, rinsing her hair out. “What the hell are you reading, anyway?”

“I don’t fucking know, some weird ass magazine.” Patrick threw the paper book away from him on the floor and leaned back on the sink he was sitting on, crossing his arms.”You almost done?”

“No.” Y/N gritted her teeth and started putting conditioner in her hair, using a comb to make sure it was even all around her head. He was so impatient that it drove her insane.

She knew he only sat in the bathroom while she showered because he got to see her breasts when she reached out to grab a towel, and it was one of the things about their friendship that pissed her off.

He always wanted to shower with her, whether he’s the one who needed to shower first or her, he always wanted to be there with her.

Y/N grabbed a washcloth and put her body wash on it while she waited for her conditioner to work in her hair, and she started lathering herself with it.

Patrick smelled the berry scented soap and knew she was getting close to done because that was the second to last step in her routine. 

Vanessa rinsed herself off after, along with her hair, and turned off the water. She stared at the shower curtain that blocked Patrick from viewing her naked body, and thought for a second. 

He’d seen her naked before, even though they were all accidental. Or at least that’s what she told herself they were. She had bought a new body butter from the convenience store and wanted to try it out, and usually she’d ask Patrick for a towel and kick him out, but it always took forever to get him to leave.

She also needed her skin to still be wet when she put the lotion on, so she needed to put it on before drying off.

“‘You good in there?”

“Yup.” Y/N responded and opened the curtain, stepping out of the shower.

To say she felt like a piece of meat being dangled in front of a starving lion was an understatement. She knew he was going to stare at her breasts, like always, but his eyes went straight down her body, and he didn’t look up.

“Are you good?” She watched him lick his lips and smile before he finally looked into her eyes.

“Never better, babe.” He leaned his head against the mirror and sighed, his eyes going straight back to her breasts.

Y/N hummed and rang the leftover water out of her hair, grabbing the tub of body butter. She opened it and he watched her like a hawk watching its prey.

She put some on her fingers and ran it up and down her leg, massaging it before moving onto the other. She then moisturized her arms and looked back at Patrick, their eyes meeting each other's.

“‘Should let me do the rest of you.” He suggested with a serious face. Y/N smiled and tilted her head.

“Be my guest.”

Patrick leapt off the counter and put the same amount of lotion that she did on his own fingers, and she flicked her wet hair off her shoulders. She hated the way her hair felt when it was wet, but she’d put up with it for a bit.

He looked her dead in the eyes and rubbed the lotion all over the palms of his cold hands right before attaching them to her breasts.

She gasped at the cold, a soft ‘fuck’ leaving her lips when his cold fingers pinched at her nipples. “I really hope you know I meant my back and all that shit. Not this.”

“I know.” He grinned, continuing to grope her. His hands roamed the rest of her body as well, resting on her ass. 

She deadpanned and he smirked.

“Seriously?”

“You know me well enough to know that this was going to happen no matter what.” 

Y/N was about to say something when he started to move closer to her, using his grip on her ass as leverage to move her towards him as well, until the doorbell rang. His smile fell from his face and fear quickly flashed over hers, and she pushed him against the counter.

“Ow.” He rubbed at the part of his hips where it connected with the edge of the sink and watched her quickly rush to put clothes on. The doorbell rang again, and again, over and over.

“I’m fucking coming!” She yelled back, pulling her pants on and running to the door, Patrick following behind her.

“You definitely will later.” Patrick snickered and she whipped her head back to him to give him a pointed look. He raised his hands up in mock surrender and Y/N opened the door.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?” Patrick interrogated the guy at the door before Y/N could even open her mouth. 

“I’m just, uh. I’m here for Y/N.” The guy gestured to Y/N, and that was when the two friends noticed the bouquet of flowers in his hands.

Patrick looked unimpressed and Y/N didn’t know what to do, especially because she didn’t remember him at all. Luckily, she didn’t have to ask him who he was because Patrick was already on that case.

“And you fucking are?” He leaned his body against the side of the door frame and put an arm around Y/N's shoulder. 

The guy grimaced at Patrick and told him his name, “Duke Adams, and you are?”

“Patrick Hockstetter.” The two men held a stare down for a while before Y/N remembered who the guy was.

“Oh, you’re the guy I danced with during freshman year,” She pursed her lips, “You ditched me for Sandra Kellies.”

Duke cleared his throat and looked down at his shoes in embarrassment, and mostly to avoid Patrick’s burning gaze.

Patrick didn’t have a good feeling about the boy, although he never had a good feeling about anyone who would potentially date Y/N. 

“That uh, isn’t exactly a proud moment of my life.” Duke nervously chuckled and looked at Y/N with the sweetest eyes she’d ever seen. She remembered him as the worst guy of her life when she started dating, but for some reason, his eyes made it seem like he’d changed. They held a softer, kinder gaze than when they first met. “These are for you.”

He handed her the bouquet and stepped back a bit, glancing at Patrick. He never let his hardened gaze fall from Duke, and he reminded Duke of a guard dog.

Or more like one with early stages of rabies because he was sure if he didn’t leave soon, Patrick would start growling at him.

“Anyway, my house phone is in the tag, if you ever wanna talk again. I’ve missed you.” Duke smiled and stepped off Y/N's porch, getting into his car and driving away. 

She watched him go and waved him goodbye, her own smile clear on her face. She looked up at Patrick and noticed a look of hatred in his eyes, one she’d seen whenever she’d introduce a guy to him.

He was a possessive and jealous man, she knew that. Even though they weren’t dating or anything, she sure as hell was going to have her fun with him.

“Maybe I should call him.” She taunted and moved his arm off of her and walked back into the house, Patrick following her trail like a dog.

“The fuck are you talking about? He broke your heart, he sure as hell is gonna do it again.” He tried to reason, running up the stairs with her. She placed the bouquet of flowers on one of the small tables in the hallway, to which he noticed what flowers they were.

“They aren’t even your favorite, he got you fucking carnations.” He scoffed and stopped following her when she reached the bathroom and turned around, blocking his way of entering with her.

“Maybe I secretly like them.” She winked, and he huffed out a laugh.

“Don’t try that shit with me.” He put his arm up to hold onto the top of the door frame.

“Hm, oh well. It’s my call anyway, not yours.” She shrugged and smiled, closing the door on his face.

“What the fuck?” He yelled, wanting to continue what they were doing before they were interrupted. 

“Go jerk off or something, I don’t want you to distract me!” She yelled back and he heard the blow dryer turn on.

He groaned and pushed off the wall, making his way to Y/N's bedroom. He sat down on the soft sheets of the bed and looked around, trying to find something to do. His eyes laid on the familiar purple piece of fabric in her laundry bin, and he grinned.

Maybe he’d take up on her suggestion.

[breannasfluff]

Eldritch Echoes - 1

The first time the Chain meets Wild, they run. Pure, animalistic horror has them scrambling into the forest and further back up the road with the only thought of run hide get away get away—!

The stranger barely turns around before the road behind him is empty.

20 minutes later, they stand in the middle of the road and argue about why they ran like ninnies.

They decide to try the road in the other direction because either is equally good when they don’t know where they are. A large tent marks out a trading stop; a giant horse head is affixed to the top.

Time pays for beds for all of them in the height of traveling luxury.

They’re sitting around the cooking pot, stirring the dregs of a burnt dinner, when the stranger walks into view.

Half the chain is up and across the clearing before they seem to realize what they did. The others freeze like rabbits.

The only movement is their heads tracking the young man as he strolls up to the counter. A few quick words, a questioning glance their way, and he disappears into the stable.

No one braves going inside for the evening, even with the promise of soft beds.

“Link!” It’s a merchant with a giant backpack the next morning that alerts them to the stranger’s identity.

The stranger, Link, grins and stops to talk to the merchant. How can he stand to remain so close to him? Can’t the man feel the bubbling dread oozing across the grass to curl around their feet?

Business concluded; Link pulls a strange device off his hip while juggling some new items. They disappear in a flash of blue.

Hyrule has an odd look in his eye and makes the first move to walk over. “Well met and well kept. Fair wishes for this fine day.”

The chain’s never heard anything so flowery leave his mouth before. They stare.

Link stares too. “Hi?”

They shouldn’t leave Hyrule to face this creature alone, but their feet are glued to the ground. Time stares with a dim sense of horror at the sensation fluttering on the edge of awareness.

Twilight, a little closer to nature than the others, joins Hyrule’s side in solidarity. He goes stiff under Link’s attention, bristling without moving.

“I’m Link,” the stranger offers, giving an easy smile that doesn’t match the chill running down their backs. He cocks his head and the movement is too sharp. “Do you need help?”

Help is the last thing they want, but it’s soon clear this is a hero joining their quest. They dub him Wild because it’s the nicest adjective they can come up with.

Whatever wears the skin of the hero, it’s not hylian.

When Link first wakes up, he knows nothing, yet he knows everything. Memories of the past and his name are gone, but he still knows how to walk, climb, and fight. Muscle memory remains.

The old man is the first person he talks to and he doesn’t know he can talk until he says hello.

The man shimmers like smoke before he’s solid again, pale and wild-eyed as he stares at Link. Still, he’s kind, and when he sees him eat an apple he relaxes.

The people of Kakariko melt away when he rides into town. Impa’s face twists when he meets her, eyes wide and—frightened. Then she settles and gives him further information. She tells him memories will help, so he starts searching them out.

Each memory brings back a little more of himself, and each interaction with people on the road highlights their fear. He doesn’t understand it, but slowly he learns how to smile softly and try to put off a friendly atmosphere.

It gets easier with time until it’s second nature. The people of Hateno are wary at first, but once he starts paying to fix the old house, they leave him alone.

Stablemasters grow used to his comings and goings, even if he periodically tries to register a strange animal to see what they’ll do. Beedle is one of the few who doesn’t bat an eye upon meeting Link for the first time. Sidon is another.

“Why are people scared of me?” Wild once asks Sidon. His head rests on the prince’s chest, listening to the too-fast beat of his heart. It’s soothing.

The zora cocks his head as he considers. “The energy you radiate can be, hmm, off-putting?” And, because he is kind, he gathers Link into a hug with no hesitation.

Wild learns how to rein his nature in, but he also learns when to let it go. On the road, he makes no effort to be friendly and he finds the Yiga won’t attack if he doesn’t talk to them first.

Travelers running from monsters are already too frightened to care about him. The few traders on the road he recognizes on sight and tucks himself away behind mental walls. The citizens of Hyrule grow used to Link, and he grows used to them.

When the group of heroes first come across him, it’s little surprise they run. He is surprised when they don’t enter the stable that night, even after he’s tucked himself neatly into the mild package he presents to the world. Well, some individuals are more sensitive to his presence than others.

When the Chain invites him to join them, he mentally promises not to scare them again. It might require a little more active work on his part, but if hylians can learn to live with him, so can these heroes.

Read the rest here!

[coolcataetheryte]

I've never posted a fanfic on this platform before, so sorry if anything looks weird. The characterization may be a bit iffy *shrug* I wrote this at like 3am. Also, I don't write smut often, so I expect this to feel about the level of a cheesy romance novel, and maybe that's fine. Can you imagine Estinien on the cover of one of those?

Summary: The WoL is feeling burnt out and lonely, Estinien shows up and helps her relax.

Pairing: Delphinium(WoL)xEstinien

Rating: NC-17

Tags: first time, uuuh size kink i guess? Barely, basically pwp, minor plot, I'm not sure what else. I don’t do this often, sorry lol so i’m not sure what should be tagged

Word count: 3,250

Delphinium sighed as she closed the door to her inn room behind her. The sound of the other scions’ drunken merrymaking muffled to a whisper and she was thankful for it. Of course, she loved celebrating a job well done as much as the next adventurer but once things got too loud and rowdy, it was time to make her exit. The boisterous cheering and laughter and music was just too overwhelming.

She took a few deep breaths then simply stood there, staring at nothing really. The room was a bit stuffy and her clothing felt stifling. Her rapier felt heavy at her hip. She was exhausted.

She finally peeled herself from the door and laid down her weapon on the bench. Her fingers brushed her harp as she withdrew her hand. She stopped and gave it a long look. She hadn’t played it since becoming a red mage some time ago. It was gathering dust and probably had fallen out of tune. Tired as she was, maybe a little bit of mindless work would do her well. She picked it up gently and sat down right where she was on the floor. The old wooden boards creaked slightly under her. She began cleaning and tuning the neglected instrument, all other noises fading into the background and her mind fell more at ease as she focused. Her fingers worked meticulously. Her ears missed nothing, quickly fixing any sour notes. Her scaly tail swished gently behind her the more she got into it.

Quite some time had passed when she gave the harp a satisfied nod. The noise from the lobby had disappeared. They’d finally decided to call it a night. That meant it was likely around midnight now. She hadn’t meant to stay up so late but admittedly, doting on the harp had somehow given her a bit of a second wind. She looked around the room absently, fingers just barely touching the strings and creating a mere whisper of song. What should she do now? Her eyes fell back on the instrument in her hands. It’d been a while since she sang. While less so than playing the harp, as she did sing to herself on occasion, she hadn’t truly sang and she began to feel like perhaps she should.

She loved singing. She always had. It was why she initially sought the way of the bard to begin with. To use song in battle had started to strip the joy from it, however. A side effect she never would have expected. That was the reason she turned to the blade. The others of course had questioned her decision. She played her role as bard well, and no doubt they enjoyed to hear it even if their focus was battle and not her performance. She’d told them it was simply to strengthen herself and feel more helpful with damage. It wasn’t a lie. But it wasn’t the whole, intimate, personal truth that she had never told anyone.

In a swift motion she stood with the harp and made her way across the room to open the door to the balcony. The night was crisp and quiet, with naught but a few insects disrupting the silence. Her chest swelled as she breathed deep of the cool air. It was only when a small shiver ran through her that she realized she’d been sweating. She paid no mind and began to string together notes that drifted into the night. Then her sweet voice joined in. It was an old song. One she didn’t even remember learning. It was simply part of her core despite having few memories from before her arrival in Gridania on that carriage. A lullaby from her people she presumed, with its soft melody and lilting sung notes.

Her song faded into an echo as she finished. A small smile graced her lips.

“That was lovely.”

She nearly jumped out of her scales at the sudden voice. Normally it was difficult to startle the Warrior of Light but Estinien had a way of catching her off guard randomly. Had he been there the whole time? Why did he jump onto her balcony of all places? He was probably lost. She gave him an exasperated look before turning on her heel to return to her room. His footsteps followed behind her.

“My intent wasn’t to frighten you,” he said.

He seemed sincere but she could hear the mirth in his voice. Yet somehow she couldn’t bring herself to tell him to leave. Without a word she placed the harp in its previous resting spot. She found herself simply standing and staring at nothing again.

The material of Estininen’s trousers caught gently on one of her tail spikes and she became aware of his presence directly behind her. He was close, a hair’s breadth from her back.

“What is it,” he asked. “You only stand about like this when something is on your mind.”

He placed a hand on her shoulder and that was all it took for her demeanor to completely break away. She relaxed back against his body with a sharp sigh, her head resting just barely at his navel.

“Delphinium?”

He sounded concerned. She gently placed her hand over his. His hand felt so large. She imagined what they might be like holding her more intimately. She quickly shoved those thoughts to the back of her mind. Sure, they had their banter, and yes, many knew it was flirtatious but that was all it had ever been and this.. was entirely too comfortable. She couldn’t afford herself this. She suddenly wanted desperately to move away from him but she was stuck between him and the bench. She decided on a side step but, in her exhaustion, quite embarrassingly caught the edge of Estinien’s boot. He caught her with ease before she could fall to the ground. Their eyes met, and for a moment there was nothing in the world but the concern in his eyes as they searched her own.

Her breath hitched when she was pressed against him. Her feet left the floor, and it took her a moment to realize he had lifted her to crush her against his chest in a tight embrace.

“Whatever it is,” he said quietly. “I hope that you would trust me enough to tell me.”

The dam broke. She gripped his tunic as her tears streamed down cheeks. Estinien held tighter and gently lowered to sit on the floor as she sobbed into his chest. She easily fit into his lap.

“I’m sorry,” she choked out. “It’s just all been so much. I’ve done so much in so little time. I barely have any time to rest. I always have to be strong for everyone. I’m just so..tired.”

He said nothing but continued to hold her close. A hand stroked her hair gently. After a while, she calmed, taking deep breaths.

“You must think so little of me now,” she chuckled dryly. “The great hero, crying like a child.”

“No,” he said. “I know how much you hide your emotion. You bear quite a burden and you seldom let anyone see what you truly feel. I know how I seem, but I do understand you.”

She looked up at him at his words. Being half his size, she’d never seen his face so close before. She’d also never been so vulnerable with anyone, yet here she was looking so deeply at him with tear stained cheeks. He used a thumb to wipe a tear from her eye, then his hand drifted to caress her cheek. His thumb dared to ever so gently brush across her lip, the pink of her lipstick leaving a faint streak on his skin.

It was Delphinium that closed the distance between their lips. She gave in to the desire she held since she first battled alongside him on the bridge. He didn’t resist her, secretly having had the same thoughts since that moment. He’d cast them aside as he continued to focus on his revenge, but now there was nothing to hold him back. He helped her adjust into a more comfortable position as he deepened the kiss.

Her hands found their way into his long tresses, while Estinien’s hands rested comfortably at her waist and back. The tiny moan as Delphinium allowed his tongue access sent a shiver through him. They stayed there a while. There was no battle for dominance. Delphinium gladly gave into him, letting someone else take the lead of something for once.

Somewhere they’d ended up with Delphinium on the floor beneath him. His lips found their way to her neck, and she finally registered her horns scraping uncomfortably against the unforgiving wood as she arched a bit into him. She stopped his hand as it began tugging at the laces of her blouse. He paused, looking at her.

“Let's have a bath,” she said breathlessly.

“After. We’d need another once we’re through.”

She gave a bit of a snort at that. “Please. I want you to bathe with me. We should be clean before we do anything.”

He relented easily. One more kiss, then he helped her to her feet. She held his hand and led him to the washroom with a smile.

As the tub filled, Delphinium felt a wave of self-consciousness. She had her back to her companion, but could hear him beginning to undress. She weighed the possible consequences of following through with her actions. Was this a good idea? Could she afford to be involved with someone so intimately? Could she allow herself?

A hand on her arm turned her toward Estinien. She looked up at him immediately, trying to ignore his naked groin just below her eye level. He slowly began to unlace her blouse. He looked at her, silently asking permission to remove it. She nodded. As he worked to undress her, her eyes scanned over the scars decorating Estinien’s upper body. They were many, some old and faint, some clearly more recent. When he knelt down to remove her boots, she caught sight of his gnarled shoulder. Without thinking, she reached toward it, her fingers carressing over the marred flesh as gently as they had the harp strings earlier that night. He looked up at her and she muttered an apology, removing her hand.

“It’s all right,” he said and continued the task at hand.

Now both fully nude, a blush crept over Delphinium’s face. She noticed Estinien’s cheeks began to dust with pink as well and smiled. She took his hand and guided him into the warm water with her. Seeing his scars reminded her just how strong and resilient the Elezen was. To hell with her doubts, Estinien could handle himself. The fear of losing him would always be there, but she knew he would not fall easily. She was tired of handling everything alone. It was clear he felt the same.

The tub was more than large enough for them and she was thankful not to have ended up cramped together. She’d never been so close to anyone, let alone been naked with them. But she was the one that wanted this and wouldn't back out now. Estinien watched her while she began to lather soap onto a cloth. She tried not to appear so nervous under his gaze.

She looked at him, this time being the one to silently ask permission. He nodded just as she had. She washed him gently. Upon reaching the scar on his shoulder, he placed a hand over hers. She understood, relinquishing the cloth to him. She found another and scrubbed her face, removing her lipstick. Wiping under her eyes, she realized how smeared her makeup must’ve been, and how silly she likely looked. She laighed to herself, drawing Estinien’s attention.

“What is it,” he asked.

“Nothing. Just imagining how I must've appeared this whole time. I’m sorry for suddenly crying at you. And sorry if your tunic is stained.”

It was his turn to chuckle. “Pay no mind. I have other tunics. I’m honored you shared your tears with me.”

She smiled and kissed his hand gently. “Let me wash your back?”

He nodded, then turned to give her access, moving his hair off to the side. She rubbed the cloth over him, again noting all of his scars. She kissed a thin scar near the base of his neck. He turned to her and she was about to apologize when he captured her lips with his own once more.

“Your turn,” he whispered.

She looked at him confused.

“Your back? I should return the favor.”

“Right,” she laughed awkwardly and quickly turned away from him.

He didn’t hide his chortle. He was a bit rougher with his washing than Delphinium would normally be. However, she could tell he was cleaning her scales with the same precision he cleaned his weapons. She relaxed into it with a sigh, drawing her knees up and leaning her chin on them to keep her head above the water. He was nearly massaging her at this point and she felt like she could fall asleep like this.

Estinien pulled her into his lap, her back flush against his chest. He seemed to ignore the small spikes of her tail biting into his stomach. She shivered against him as her breasts were exposed above the water. She became more alert again when she felt a hand glide up around one of them. Of course, she couldn’t sleep just yet. This is what they both had been looking forward to.

She was aware of her short stature, but now with his hand covering her ample breast she felt downright tiny. It was as thrilling as she imagined. She let out a breathy sigh as his fingers teased the bud of her nipple. She felt his other hand move downward, brushing over the deep scar on her lower abdomen. She knew he must’ve seen it earlier. She expected he’d ask about it, and was a little surprised he hadn’t. It didn’t necessarily bother her to speak of it, but it did bring back memories of awful pain. His hand didn’t linger over the scar for long, and drifted lower still.

Another sigh left her lips when his long fingers met their destination between her thighs.

She squirmed slightly at the sensation his rubbing fingers sent through her. A moan escaped her throat and that seemed to encourage him quite a lot. She felt his erection growing beneath her, the length of it coming to rest against the cleft of her heated folds. He continued his motions. Her breathing became more erratic, and her moans more frequent. She never thought he’d bring her to the edge so quickly but she couldn’t hold back.

She couldn’t help but rock her hips into his massaging fingers, the motion also grinding against the erection between her legs.

Estinien pressed his lips to her shoulder, stifling a heated groan that went straight to Delphinium’s core. She climaxed with a shout that echoed embarrassingly through the large washroom. His fingers lingered a few moments longer as her spasms calmed. Then, he moved to grasp his length. He held her impossibly closer as he stroked himself to his own completion. If she hadn’t been so preoccupied with him breathing heavily in her ear, she would worry about her tail possibly drawing blood from his crushing embrace.

He finished with a grunt then finally loosened his hold. They both needed more.

“Bed, now,” Delphinium said.

They wasted no time. Drying just enough so as not to slip, he carried her easily to the bedroom. He all but tossed her onto the soft bed and immediately he was crawling over her, planting a trail of kisses along her thigh all the way up to her breasts. She moaned quietly as he mouthed at the perked nipple, her hands gripped his hair gently, urging him on. His tongue flicked over the bud, earning him a louder sound and a twitch. Satisfied, he continued his trail upward, finally capturing her lips for what seemed like the thousandth time that night.

Again, she allowed his tongue access, gasping against his lips while his thumbs firmly caressed her nipples. Her legs spread wider of their own accord and she was beginning to ache for him.

“Estinien,” she breathed. “I need you now.”

Without hesitation, Estinien sat back to hold her hips. He gently probed the tip of his erection at her entrance. She watched him eagerly, the difference in size wildly apparent. Neither had any idea if it would truly fit, but by the twelve, they weren’t about to stop now.

Their eyes met and she gave a quick nod. The tip plunged inside her not a moment later. She gasped out a moan and tangled her hands into the bedsheet as he slowly slid the rest of his length into her heat. He grunted out his own pleasured moan as it engulfed him. He paused, the only sound was their panting breaths. He gave her a minute to adjust to him. Then, at her nod, began a quick pace of thrusting. While it would’ve been lovely to take it slow, they both desperately needed this connection and release. There was no way he could hold himself back now.

Delphinium’s fervor matched his, a string of moans falling from her parted lips. She watched him with half lidded eyes, memorizing the way his muscles clenched with each movement.

Estinien carefully pulled her up into his lap. She let out another moan of pleasure as the new position pushed him deeper still. Her hands glided over him, feeling his chiseled body. She kissed his chest and held tight as he began to move once more. His thrusts were quickly growing desperate, she was nearing her limit as well. His passionate, breathy, moans were right in her ear again. Her own sounds had gone up an octave. With a few more thrusts, she was pushed again over the edge into that wonderful, white hot pleasure. Moments later she felt him pulsating within her, filling her to the brim with his seed.

Panting, he stroked her freckled cheek and realization settled in. She saw the streak of panic in his eyes and gently shook her head.

“I can’t,” she whispered, leaning her forehead against his.

His mind flashed back to the scar he’d felt on her stomach and he relaxed, understanding.

They held each other close as they caught their breath, and the high passed. Gently, he laid her on the bed and disappeared for a moment.

Delphinium was already beginning to let sleep take her when he returned. She startled slightly when the warm, wet cloth touched her, but once she understood she allowed herself to fall into her slumber.

Estinien cleaned them carefully. While typically he wouldn’t bother, he remembered how much Delphinium hated to feel sticky. He would do anything for her. He would die for her. Of course, he’d try very hard to never let it come to that.

He settled them under the blankets and watched the sun slowly light up the room.

[riflemansfrequency]

My favorite merc is Engineer and I honestly have my own interpretation of his character because honestly not a lot about him can be figured out, he’s described in three canonical words, freakishly smart, soft spoken, and amiable. So this is that! This is what I think of his character v. other interpretations, I’m not sure if this would count as headcannons or not since it’s all about his personality rather than stuff I’ve made from my head

- Engineer is not actually a workaholic, he’s not constantly bundled up in his workshop, he values himself a lot, and he acknowledges when it’s time to take a break. He enjoys what he does but he’s not overworking himself to the bone because he burnt out frequently in college. He likes to relax and truly values times when there’s ultimately nothing waiting for him, and nothing to think about.

- in addition he’s not constantly stressed over his team, he believes the best in them and does his best, when he can to give them a friendly nudge in a direction they could be missing. He has a lot of faith in their ability to figure it out themselves. They are immature, but I think the fact that all of them are most likely grown adults. He’s a fatherly guy but a firm believer in, explain it to them first, if they decide to do it anyways let the naturally consequences fix them, he can’t make them do it. He will attempt to be a middle man in conflicts among his team if it is necessary

- One thing he enjoys more than anything, is teaching, or atleast rambling about what he does. Not many listen to him, he doesn’t mind, but there’s two people who love his lessons, Demoman, when not completely wasted, and Scout, who’s never had the father figure to teach him these sorts things. He enjoys having someone to listen to him, he also enjoys that this makes them more capable of handling situations themselves

- he can be very smug, growing up the gifted kid, he’s received a lot of compliments at a young age that became his expectation, while he is a very soft spoken man, a compliment goes a long way for him and can get in his head as little as it shows. Ultimately, he can find himself showing off more, to get more of these compliments. He doesn’t try, and it’s not often noticeable, but there’s one person who knows about this is Spy due to his observation skills. It’s something I notice in a lot of kids who grew up gifted they could still be sweet people these acts can be interpreted often as show offish to people who do not experience their need to contest for approval. I never grew up personally gifted but I notice it a lot! So this is more of a headcannon

- he can also, find himself lacking professionalism, even less than medic when it comes to their experiments. While medic can be over enthusiastic, Engineer overlooks direness of certain situations unless it involves him or the well being of his friends. He drinks often times when working, which I wouldn’t say is very professional, sure Demoman drinks way more than him, nobody should compete especially in a job like that, but engineer? He sure does. His casual, go with the flow nature can become rather intimidating when they are dealing with the lives of others

- He is a father figure but wouldn’t baby his team and treat them like children, he strongly and I mean Strongly encourages they function on their own, he is defensive support, and this is applicable as how he acts in a general non battle setting. He offers advice, and comfort but would encourage you to move on, he can only support so much but he has your back no matter what.

[bubbl3zdaseaotter37]

Whumptober 2024

No. 5: SUNBURN

Healing Salve | Heatstroke | "If my pain will stretch that far." (Lottery Winners, Burning House)

A/N: I got another prompt done on time today! Yippeeee! Anyways, I’m (semi) proud to present my first COMPLETED Lockwood & Co. prompt for Whumptober. Enjoy your dose of oblivious Locklyle for the day ;)

“I told you it was going to be sunny today.”

“Yes, well—”

“And hot.”

“We work after sund—"

“And to leave that ridiculous coat behind.”

“I always wear it, and it’s never been a problem. Until today.”

I stared at Lockwood, his nose and cheeks burnt an impressive shade of scarlet. His skin was still clammy from when he had passed out earlier that day from heat exhaustion, and he had a cool, wet towel hastily thrown over his bare shoulders.

“It’s never a problem, until it is,” George hollered peevishly from the kitchen. “Like when that ‘weak shade’ wasn’t a problem until it was a spectre that really hated three underinformed agents digging up its calcified remains.”

Lockwood sighed, then flinched as I put another dab of the burn cream on his face.

“Don’t know why you insisted on doing this yourself,” Lockwood muttered. He was still very grumpy about the whole affair, but I couldn’t get the image of how very pale he had appeared when he had passed out. How hot his face had felt when I had placed my palm on his forehead to check his temperature. Thank goodness DEPRAC already had a van there. Lockwood did have a point about how unlikely it was for an agent to get heatstroke.

Actually, his cheeks still felt rather hot, but I quickly attributed that to his minor sunburns.

“Would you rather George did it?” I asked, and Lockwood pursed his lips. George’s voice was farther away now, echoing up from the basement as he filed away our case from the previous night.

“—did he let you finish your research? No! Always blundering about and hoping that things shake out alright…”

“No,” he replied decisively.

I smiled triumphantly. “That’s what I thought.”

With that, our conversation lapsed into silence. The door to the basement must had swung shut on its own – its old, heavy hinges tended to do so – because we caught only occasional snippets of George’s ranting from downstairs.

“You’re not actually mad, are you, Luce?”

Lockwood’s sudden question caught me off guard, and I froze with my hand halfway out of the jar of burn ointment. Confused, I prompted, “about what?”

“Ah— about the whole coat thing,” he replied, obviously trying for a more casual tone in an attempt to resurrect the conversation. His gaze drifted behind me as he busily examined one of the many masks and other trinkets hung up on the wall.

“No.” It was a simple answer for a simple dilemma. When it came down to it, that wasn’t what was bothering me about this in the first place. “I just wish you hadn’t waited to tell everyone you felt like you were about to pass out because of said coat. There is such thing as dressing for the weather, you know.”

“So I have been told,” he said dryly.

Shaking my head slowly, I put another daub of the ointment on Lockwood’s nose. “You surprised us, that’s all,” I said quietly. It’s never a good thing to see your coworkers passing out spontaneously on the job, even more so in my profession. Because sometimes they never came back from that.

“Ah…” Lockwood trailed off. I stared at the ointment jar on the side table. The table was scattered with biscuit crumbs and who knew what else. We really needed to clean up around there.

“Thank you.”

I looked back at Lockwood, his reddened, splotchy face now coated in a slimy layer of the ointment, his usually flawless dark hair sticking out in odd directions, white shirt smeared with dirt and felt a smile tug at the corner of my mouth. Somehow, even with all of that, he managed to look perfectly relaxed, dignified even.

Fixing the lid back on the ointment jar, I smiled and suggested, “tea?”

It had been far too long since any of us had a proper shower and a lie down, but that sounded like the best way to start winding down now. Besides, maybe we could win back George’s good graces if we fixed a good plate of tea and biscuits by the time he finished in the basement.

“That sounds wonderful, Lucy.”

[lynnythepynny]

neighborhood heart-throb

tw/cw : smut || fem!reader || oral sex (fem!receiving) || praise kink || mentions of alcohol || pining || pornwplot || awkward-ish plot || joel is giving single divorced dad vibes

he’s gorgeous. 

god how does he not know it?

when you first moved in he was the first to offer his help. him and his brother came over first thing the next morning. both of them were exceptionally sweet, but you were captivated by him. those big strong arms carrying your vanity all the way to your bedroom without complaint. the veins that ran from his knuckles up to elbows. and that greying, short, fluffy hair that jus covered his forehead and kinda curled around his neck and ears.

after a long day of squeezing furniture through your front door, joel and tommy, though exhausted, had kindly refused any kind of payment except for a bit of spaghetti that you’d neatly packaged up for them both to take home. though you may have put a little more care into joel’s.

after that joel would wave to you as he packed his truck for work or when he would take a break from mowing the lawn. he bore a kind smile on his usually stern face every time, asking how you were settling in if your window was open. sometimes you would slip in a small issue just to pique his interest.

“my sink just ain’t draining right mr. miller. could ya fix it for me?”

“that storm last night just happened to take out a bit of my siding mr. miller.”

“mr. miller could you install this new shower head for me?”

of course, you could most likely figure all of those issues out yourself with your own toolbox. hell that shower head came with package instructions. he didn’t have to know that though. 

for now you’d use all the excuses possible to get him to come over. plumbing issues, renovations, even leftover dinner (which he oddly always declined). and this was no different today as you gazed out into your neighbor’s backyard. the window was open and you could just barely hear the birds singing, their beautiful trill sadly overwhelmed by the hum of that old mower. summer was certainly here in texas. the brutal sun had burnt you plenty of times over already and the grass between joel’s house and yours was growing faster than ever. 

your hands are busy in the sink, scrubbing away at a wine glass from days prior, but your eyes are busy watching his back as he pushes the lawnmower. the steaming hot water on the back of your hand brings you back to your own reality. you rinse the glass out, place it on the drying rack, and pick up a small whiskey glass in it’s place. 

tonight you’d planned on making something to cool you down. popsicles were freezing for dessert and you’d already made a batch of lemonade, but you really have absolutely no idea what to make for dinner. 

the hum of the mower grows louder as joel comes up on your window. he kicks the old machine off and grins up into your window. 

“how’re you doin tonight miss?” his sultry accent slides right off his tongue and suddenly your stomach flutters slightly. you smile and wave. 

“i’m doing just fine mr. miller, how about yourself?”

he runs a hand through his sweat-slicked hair and chuckles. “tommy’s got me workin horrible hours. had’ta beg him for a day off.” with one hand on his hip he gestures out to his finished yard, clearly exhausted, “an even then, the work never truly stops.”

you nod along sympathetically, truly upset to see the poor man so tired. you could only imagine how hard it must be, being a single dad and working for so long.

an idea sparks in your brain. 

“mr. miller,” you hum, leaning up against the window sill, “how ‘bout you come over for dinner tonight?”

his face drops and both his hands come up in front of his chest, “oh no miss, i’d hate to impose-”

“you’re not imposin’, for the millionth time.” you roll your eyes dramatically, earning a small chuckle from joel, “just come on over after you put sarah to bed. i’ll make dinner and you can relax.”

joel seems to contemplate the idea for a moment, scratching his scruffy cheeks in thought. you watch, your hands white knuckling the whiskey glass, fearful that you'll receive another polite rejection.

a puff of air blows from between his lips as he finally relents. 

“alright, i s’pose i’ll be over tonight.”

--------------------------------------------------------

giddy didn't even begin to explain your current feelings. you were ecstatic, over the moon, befuddled, but also, simply anxious as many people are when they host a dinner at their home, especially for somebody they admire.

you stand in front of your fridge a few hours later, robe wrapped tight around your waist with a towel still on your head. joel still hasn't text back telling you what he wants to eat. 

he didn’t look like much of a soup or stew man. you think maybe he would be a griller. all dads are right? and he had told you he was a hunter before. but you don't have a grill and the only meat you currently have is a package of chicken breasts anyways, which you can't see yourself doing much with if you did even own a grill. 

*ping*

your eyes catch the message on your screen before it fades 

i’ll eat whatever you make. i liked your pasta.

perfect. 

you grab the chicken, a package of frozen noodles, and the ingredients you’d need for a sauce and get to work. 

--------------------------------------------------------

dinner is still in the works when your doorbell rings. you jump a slight bit, wooden spoon falling to the ground with a harsh clatter. 

“just a moment!” you call out even though you know very well who it is. 

you quickly pick up the spoon and cover the cooking pasta with a lid. once you get to the door you take a deep, slow breath and reassure yourself. 

this isn’t a date. you’re just trying to get him out of his house. into your house. to get to know him better. it’s a win - win situation for you both really. nothing bad will happen.

you swing the door open with a small smile. low and behold joel is standing on your front porch, a large bowl held gently in his hands. your eyes rake over him before you can tell yourself to be subtle. 

his peppery hair is freshly washed and pushed back in a neat style. a few stubborn strands fall astray here and there but it all seems to add to his cool and stubborn charm. you can tell by the strong smell of his aftershave that his beard has been trimmed and seemingly brushed over. the hairs definitely weren’t that neat when you last saw him. your eyes stray a little lower and you can’t help but gaze at his chest in that tight black shirt he’s wearing. the red flannel layered over it doesn’t do much to cover the muscle he’s built over the years. 

“what have you got there?” you ask, blinking rapidly to try and clear your mind. 

“it’s just ah,” he avoids eye contact, his fingers thrumming against the sides of the bowl, “just a salad. i figured i’d bring over somethin’ so you didn’t have to do all the cookin’.”

you smile appreciatively and step to the side. “thank you joel. you can just set it on the dinin’ table.” he nods as he walks past you into your kitchen. looking at your ingredient cluttered counter, you suddenly wished you’d picked up a little. 

as you try and stuff down your insecurity, and make sure that dinner is still coming along, joel has a peek around your home. with absolutely no cares about how unkempt your kitchen appears, he wanders through the threshold and into the lounge, his hands now stuffed comfortably into his jean pockets. you watch him from a ways back for a moment, simply taking in the way he strides around so comfortably. 

he saunters up to your fireplace, gazing at your family photos, and picks up a picture of you and your older brother. 

“boyfriend?” he asks, not-so-subtly trying to make the question seem casual. when you almost burst out laughing, catching yourself with a hand slapped over your mouth, his face morphs into some befuddled expression.

“no,” your words come out breathy as you recover, taking the photo from joel and settling it back into it’s place, “that’s my older brother. nice guess though.”

a moment of silence passes between you two as joel processes this information. you hold a shit-eating grin on your face as you continue to hold back sudden bouts of laughter.

“so no boyfriend?” his brow cocks slightly in your direction. you give the same curious look and cross your arms over your chest. 

“why’re you so curious mr. miller?”

joel bites the inside of his cheek, his exhausted eyes meeting your lively ones. he takes in your features, admiring the soft look of your skin and the gentle curl of your lips as you break into a smile. “no reason.” he spits the words out confidently, his own arms coming up to cross below his chest. “i was just curious. i don’t wanna make the same mistake with a picture of you n’ your cousin.”

you roll your eyes and let your arms drop. “okayy.” 

as you walk past him to take dinner off the stove, you wonder if you’d read that conversation right. he was definitely asking to make sure you were single. right? or maybe he really was just asking out of curtesy. like how older relatives always pry at the younger ones' love lives around the holidays. 

you were terrified to flirt too confidently, fearful you would say something wrong or make joel uncomfortable. he was quite a bit older than you after all and was most likely much more adept in conversation, something you had always struggled to get a real grasp on. his 46th birthday had just come around a few months ago. 

fuck he was literally old enough to be your dad. 

you push those thoughts to the back of your head and try to focus on plating your chicken fettuccine. you set the table, one plate on either side, and uncover joel’s salad that sits in the middle of the table. 

you pop the fridge open and call out to your guest. “do you want lemonade or wine, joel?”

“depends what kinda wine you’ve got in there miss.” he walks back into the kitchen and watches as you pull a rounded bottle from the fridge door. 

“ah, it’s a red semi-sweet,” you hum, “shiraz i think?”

"sounds good to me.” he’d always been a bit more of a beer guy, they were easier on his body, but he’d never turn away a good red wine if anyone offered. so while you were busy popping the bottle open, he was busy preparing two of your recently washed wine glasses, still setting on the drying rack. 

he takes a rag he presumes is clean enough and wipes the outsides of the glasses down carefully, then sets them next to you. with slightly shaky hands you fill each glass just about 3/4 of the way full. 

“easy tiger, i gotta know where my front door is when i leave here.” joel teases, picking up both glasses and carefully setting them next to each of your plates. you follow closely behind with the wine bottle and scoff. 

“if you can’t find it i’d be more than happy to help you.”

“that’s real kind of you. and so is all this.” he makes a grand gesture to the table, smiling at you over the salad bowl, “thank you for dinner tonight.” joel fishes the salad tongs out of the dish itself and settles a healthy helping of lettuce, cucumbers, tomatoes, and peppers on the side of your plate. once satisfied with your portion he moves on to his own plate. 

“oh it’s no trouble at all really. you look as if you could use a night away.” you reassure him eagerly before digging into your plate. 

“you’re right about that.” he chuckles, taking a slow sip of his wine, “i got tommy lookin’ after sarah tonight. figured i better not eat n run.”

“you are just such a kind soul.” you tease, reaching for your wine to wash down the thick fettuccine sauce. 

this was nice, you think. it was nice to have someone to share a sense of humor with, someone who could not only tease you, but enjoyed when you shot back with the same attitude. joel just made conversation seem so smooth and easy.

joel tucks in to his own plate of pasta, wrapping the noodle around his fork so he didn’t have to slurp like a true gentleman. as he goes to push the food into his mouth though, the noodle slips and he slurps it up so fast that the end whacks him on the tip of his nose. 

sauce dots joel’s nose bridge and stains his mustache. normally he’d be a bit irritated by the failure of his first bite but the way you laugh at his fuck up and those first few sips of wine have his heart feeling a lot lighter tonight. 

joel glides his tongue over his mustache, collecting the leftover sauce that he can reach all while making eye contact with you over the table. you watch him do so and shift a little in your seat. 

suddenly your face feels hot. 

“so,” you avert your gaze and pick up another noodle, “what do you actually do for work?”

“mmm,” joel nods, currently wiping at his face with a napkin, “me n’ tommy are carpenters. flooring, framing, building walls, you name it.” he takes another small bite and put a hand over his mouth to speak. “tommy’s been talkin’ bout starting his own contracting business though. wants me to join him.”

you nod along eagerly, brows raising at what you can only assume is good news. “you should. you guys would be good at it. especially with all the practice i’ve given you over here.”

joel’s eyes crinkle as he laughs and raises his glass to his lips. the red wine goes down smooth and he finds himself subconsciously taking bigger and bigger swigs each time.  “what about you miss? what are you doin’ for work?”

“i’m workin’ from home right now. i specialize in graphic design for companies.” you judge his expression as approval, maybe even surprise, and continue with your explanation. “i’ve got a trip comin’ up soon. they’re flying me out to new york city for it.”

“we’ll have to celebrate before you go then.” joel offers, “dinner can be my treat this time.”

“that sounds wonderful.” you agree, cleaning your plate of the remnants of chicken and salad. 

joel pushes his chair back and stands, taking his empty plate and silverware in his hand. "finished?' he asks, leaning down to be able to look you in the eyes. you gaze up at him, almost feeling stupid as you nod wordlessly. you manage to slip in a quick "thank you joel" as he turns away.

a gentle hum is all you get in response. joel is busy spraying down the plates in the sink.

you stand up as well, pushing in both of your chairs and gathering your wine glass in your hands. "so," you take a small sip of wine, "if you don't wanna eat n run, what do you s'pose we do?" joel chuckles to himself as he joins you, his own wineglass in hand.

"i s'pose we see if that fireplace of yours works." he nudges you with his elbow as he walks past, a grin lining his wine-reddened lips. you follow quickly behind and settle yourself on the cushy sofa.

"have you burned it before?"

"ah, not yet. There should be some wood inside but i was 'fraid i'd burn the house down." you respond, finishing off your glass of wine in one big swing.

the fireplace wasn't really anything fancy. it held your tv atop it, serving more as a decorative piece rather than something you'd use often. rusted wrought iron doors kept stray pieces of cloth, paper, or string from catching light. dark oak that matched the rest of your home made up the rest of structure, encasing your tv in a box with a mantle above it.

joel crouches down in front of it with a stiff groan, you can even hear his knees crack, and eases the iron doors open. "i'm sure we'll be just fine." he tugs a lighter from his jean pocket and clicks it on. using the small flame joel lets a smaller twig catch fire before tossing it on the logs. "we'll see how we get along with that."

It's not long before the fire is practically roaring in your lounge. All the times you'd curled up in a blanket because it was too cold in the house and you seriously could have just lit a fire with a spare lighter and been sweating in minutes.

you really don't know if the wine or the fire has contributed to the warmth on your face more. all you know is that the way joel is sitting on your sofa, his legs spread slightly, one large hand resting on his thigh and the other currently pouring you another glass of wine, is making you want to slide closer. you can still smell his after shave. the musky smell wafts off him and you wonder if he seriously got this ready just to see you.

"watcha lookin' at, hm?"

"huh?" your head snaps up and your mouth hangs agape a bit, completely caught off guard.

joel chuckles, his smile wide enough that you can see his teeth this time. "you just zoned out a lil' there." he lays a hand on your shoulder, slowly dragging it down towards your elbow.

a shiver races up your spine at the feeling of his callused hands on your skin and you blurt, "oh, i was just thinking."

joel must be really feeling the wine too because suddenly he's very invested in your thoughts. "what about?" he prods, letting his fingers continue to linger on your arm. you find yourself leaning into his touch and even scooting a little closer to the older man on the couch.

"nothin' important." you hum, simply staring back at him.

joel does the same, his green eyes flitting over your features as if he's drinking you in. finally, they land on your lips. plush, soft, and stained red from your consistent sipping of the wine. his fingers twitch restlessly against your arm and you think you see something change in his eyes.

before you can pinpoint his expression joel is setting his wine to the side and leaning in closer, his now free hand hovering close to your cheek. a moment of silence passes between the two of you as joel searches for words. blood seems to roar in your ears as you anticipate the question you know he'll ask.

"can i kiss you?"

you've never been more sure about anything as you briskly nod your head and the both of you lean in.

his lips are warm and a little rough but you melt into the kiss nonetheless. joel holds a hand on the back of your head, the other pulling you closer and closer until you end up on his lap. not knowing what to do, your hands find a home against his chest. your heart is racing and your stomach is fluttering. all of your past experience seems to fly out the window and you're not even sure if you're doing things right.

the seam of his jeans catches against your covered clit as joel adjusts his hips a bit, though you know it's on purpose. your sharp nails dig into the smooth cloth of his t-shirt, earning a little groan from joel's lips in return. the sound is a gruff vibrato that rumbles from his chest. you can only imagine how his moans sound. your mind begins to run wild and the feeling in your belly rises, thighs tightening around his hips in an effort to feel something.

joel's large hands roam over your body. from your shoulders to your hips, your ass to your thighs. he gropes and squeezes every supple expanse of flesh he can find but makes a valiant attempt to make his touches at least a bit more gentle. as his lips pull away from yours, significantly puffier and shiner, you notice how they puff out with the effort of huffing for air.

he smiles and grabs one of your hands. "how're you feelin' sweet pea?"

a giddy feeling runs through your body at the new nickname. no more of the uncomfortable "miss". it almost felt like a promotion. "i feel good." you tell him, running your thumb gently over his knuckles.

"yeah?" he stares at you adoringly, pushing your hair out of your face, "do you wanna keep goin'? maybe move on to your room?"

"god, yes." you sigh heavily, your hand tightening slightly around his.

"alright." joel laughs heartily at your reaction, his cheeks going bright red. he grips your thighs and pulls you closer to his stomach. "put your arms around me, pretty." of course you do as he tells you to, arms interlocking at the nape of his neck. once you're secure, joel pushes himself up from the couch cushions and sets off towards your bedroom. the skin on his neck is warm and inviting, smelling heavily of that same damn enticing aftershave. you kiss along his collarbone, over his shoulder, and up his neck.

joel kicks your door open gently with the toe of his boot and crosses the threshold into your bedroom. his heel taps the door shut. you start to get a little more nervous, the hazy buzz of the wine starting to wear off, and as joel lays you down on the edge of your bed he seems to catch on.

his thumb caresses your cheek as he hums, "we can stop anytime you want sweet heart. we can stop right now if you want to okay? just say the word." you nod briskly, lips shut tight in embarrassment. "use your words, tell me if you wanna stop."

"no, i wanna keep going." you tell him, tugging on his flannel collar, "i'm just a little nervous."

joel smiles warmly and nods. "i understand. we'll just take it slow, okay?"

"okay." you breathe.

his hands run down your hips and over your belly. he slides them up under your back and urges you to move up to the headboard where you'd undoubtedly be more comfortable. there's a soft *puff* as your head sinks into the cloud like pillows that he had unknowingly picked out for you when you first moved in. joel kicks off his boots and then crawls after you, fully on his hands and knees, his pupils blown up with lust.

you lean upwards, capturing his lips with yours, and drag him back down with you with a hand on his cheek. joel hums against your mouth, almost giggling into the kiss like a teenage boy. the action is contagious and soon the both of you are separated and laughing softly.

once the both of you were calmed down, joel begins toying with the hem of your t-shirt. "can i take this off sweet pea?"

"of course." you murmur, freely allowing his warm hands to slide up under your shirt, exploring your the soft skin on your belly. once he reaches your ribcage, he pushes the fabric up and over your head revealing your breasts to the cool air in your room.

"shit." he huffs, eyes raking over your body. "you are so pretty sweet heart." joel continues where he left off with you, first placing a kiss on your lips, then your cheek, your jaw, and gradually beginning to travel lower. his lips roam across your neck slowly, stopping every now and then when he finds a particularly sensitive spot that causes you to squirm underneath him. hickeys begin to line your collar bones and, as he continues to go even farther south, the tops of your breasts.

he brings a hand up to test the waters, gently massaging your flesh. your head falls back a bit and you worry your bottom lip with your teeth. "does that feel good, hm?" he rumbles.

"yes." the response is airy, your head feeling cloudy as he continues to practically make you melt into the mattress. the only thoughts in your head right now are about him. you are completely, utterly, totally, focused on him.

joel kisses down your sternum, his beard scratching against your skin. "good," he hums quietly, almost grumbling against your belly, "that's what i like to hear." he continues to lay wet kisses along the top of your abdomen. his fingers tease at your waist band, tugging on the stretchy fabric just far enough to allow his mouth to place a gentle kiss beneath.

"joel," you whine, shifting your hips, "please."

his fingers dip below the waistband of your pants yet again, this time toying with the top of your underwear in the process. joel's eyes meet yours, sweet and soft under his thick brows. "can i take these off?" a brisk nod is all he needs to continue, popping the button on your slacks and tugging them down along with your underwear.

you gaze up at him and, when his eyes meet yours, he smiles warmly. "doin' okay?"

"i'm doin' great." you respond, fingers tingling in anticipation as he sinks down between your legs, the muscles in his broad shoulders almost rippling. joel hums in approval, taking his time to kiss his way up your thighs. his teeth nip here and there, leaving purple and red bruises all along your flesh. when he finally reaches your cunt, he blows cool air over pushes sopping folds, chuckling at your surprised hiss. joel swipes his tongue over his lips before finally leaning in.

you gasp at the surprisingly warm feeling of his tongue on your slit, your hips pressing into the mattress.

"ah, ah, don't run." joel murmurs, holding your hips with his arms as he fully digs in. the arch of his nose bumps against your throbbing clit as joel pushes his tongue past your entrance. his tongue curls and pulls, pressing right against that spongey spot that makes your toes curl. hot pleasure runs down your legs and you squeeze your thighs tight around his head. joel chuckles in response, only pulling you closer with his muscular arms.

a rather loud moan of his name falls past your lips and you grab hold of the man's hair, tugging as your arms tense up with the pleasure. the soft tip of his tongue traces a figure eight over your clit repeatedly, the sensation making your knees quake.

"that's right sweetheart," joel encourages you with a muffled groan, his scraggly beard scraping wondrously over the soft plush of your thighs, "cum on my tongue. it's okay." you're entire body trembles, a feeling like no other running up your spine and out through your arms and legs. your chest feels full as you huff and puff, trying to keep yourself quiet.

one of your legs rests over his shoulder, encased in his grip and trembling harshly against his clothes, while the other is left to lay free on the mattress. joel runs his palm along your skin, soothing you, keeping you grounded as you practically lose your mind.

you're right on the precipice, moans slipping out unabashedly at this point. with one more rough scrape of his beard, his tongue lauving up your folds and over your clit, you finally cum.

your chin tilts up and your eyes squeeze shut. joel grunts as your grip on his short hair tightens dramatically, but he doesn't pull away. instead he works you through your orgasm, keeping your hips pressed down, his tongue still lapping gently at your sore clit. you whimper pathetically at the feeling of his wet beard still grazing over your folds. the sharp bristles stick to his lips and cheeks, completely saturated with your cum.

joel raises his head when you've finished and the sight of him makes your head spin.

his eyes are dazed, lips puffy, wet, and red, and his beard is soaked to a deep brown. "you did such a good job sweet pea." joel's hands rub over your thighs and up to your stomach.

"thank you." you huff, smiling up at him as you recover. one of your hands grabs his collar and tugs the man down to your level. you place a sloppy, wet kiss on his lips, tasting your own release on his tongue.

when you release his collar, joel pulls away with heavy breaths. his eyes are completely blown up now, almost black, with desire. his hips slot between your own, replacing his face with rough denim, strained against his hard cock. desperate to get him in the same situation as yourself, you begin to push his flannel down his arms.

"steady now," joel laughs, helping you to get his t shirt off, "there's no need to rush sweet heart." as he tosses the fabric to the floor, his lips meet yours for a brief kiss. as much as you want to pull him back in for more, but the aching need for his cock outweighs the need for his lips.

joel pops the button on his jeans and shimmies out of them, kicking the denim off the bed into the pile of both your already discarded clothes. you gaze, completely enamored, at his body. his torso is lightly covered in scars from work. though he's well built, you can't find his abs. there's just a bit of fat layered over what you know is strong muscle. you reach out and joel let's your palms wander over his body, feeling all the way up to his chest.

gently, joel takes both your hands and settles them on your own belly. "keep em there. " he commands, thumbs hooking into his boxers. you swallow harshly, throat going dry as he pulls the tight fabric down his legs.

his cock bobs, head flushed and dripping with pre-cum. he was average in length, but god was he thick.

you stare up at joel, wringing your hands on your stomach while seriously contemplating if he would fit. "that won't-" you begin to gush your thoughts, but he shushes you.

"we'll go slow." he promises, kissing your forehead, "you can take it, i know you can." joel sits back on his knees and spits into his hand. you watch as he works his cock slightly, wetting it down to make it as painless as possible.

once he's satisfied, he leans over your body and presses his lips to your cheek. you can feel the wetness from his beard transferring onto your skin. "ready?" he hums.

you nod in response, grabbing at his bicep to prepare yourself.

joel lines himself up with your soaked entrance, running his head through your folds, teasing you just a bit. the feeling makes you want to cry, pathetic desperation running through your veins. you needed him so bad, and he was messing with you?

"joel, please." you spread your legs for him and dig your nails into his arm.

"oh, what a good girl fer me." he mutters, southern accent thickening immensely, "keep 'em just like that pretty."

slowly, joel sinks his hips forward. the head of his cock presses past your hole easily, and you swear you feel every ridge running along your walls. he watches as your nose scrunches and your eyes fall shut. your lips press into a thin line as he thrusts forward gently, pushing in just an inch more.

every pulsing vein catches on your gummy walls. you almost feel too full when he continues, pushing himself forward inch by inch, keeping his promise to go slow and be gentle. your legs are trembling, nails just about to draw blood from his strained bicep, as he finally bottoms out.

the both of you gasp, hot, heavy breaths hitting each other's faces as joel rests his forehead on yours. it's intimate, the way the arch of his nose settles against yours, the way you can feel his breath gently brushing against your lips. you tilt your head just slightly, catching his lips in a kiss that joel readily replies too. his mouth is hot, lips plush and soft as he kisses you back passionately. you gasp against his lips as joel pulls his hips back slowly, till just his tip rests inside of you.

your hands grapple at his shoulders, clawing and scraping as joel thrusts back into you in one fluid motion. he keeps his movements gentle for the moment, still pressing kisses to your lips, but as the pace picks up, the tip of his cock nudging at your gspot, you lose the energy to kiss him back.

joel watches your face through hooded eyes, your chin tilted and cheeks a bright rouge. your eyes were practically closed, just your pupil's peeking out between your lashes as you gaze back up at him. your hair was ruffled across your damp forehead, some strands sticking to your skin while others stuck straight up.

to him, you were possibly the prettiest mess he had ever seen. what he would give to be able to see this perfect portrait of you every night. your beautiful body spread out, though this time on his sheets, while he fucked you stupid.

staring back down at your fucked out expression, joel chuckles. "you feelin' good pretty baby?" he asks.

"mhm." the sound barely comes out past your quiet whimpers and moans. your brain felt numb, like it was melting into mush, and thoughts no longer swam around your mind. the only thing you even wanted to think of was the heavy drag of his cock along your quivering walls, punishing your cunt with the rough yet steady pace he had set.

"use your words sweet pea," he uses his hand to brush the hair from your forehead.

"yes, fuck, yes joel." you cry to him, your sharp nails digging through the skin on his shoulders all the way down to his waist.

"atta girl," joel growls, his teeth gritting at the burning pleasure that now runs all the way down his back. your cunt squeezes him at the gravelly sound of his voice. he whimpers, voice cracking, as he asks, "gonna cum on my cock, huh?"

"yeah," you puff, "yeahyeahyeah-" you lose track of how many times you tell him yes. you only know the burning hot pleasure that's building in your belly. joel keeps his forehead pressed to yours, his free hand cupping your jaw gently.

"look at me baby," he demands, very carefully nudging your jaw upwards, "just let it go," he's kissing the tense parts of your face, shushing you as you whimper and cry out that it's all too much, "it's okay sweet girl, i've got you."

that's when the pressure in your belly finally overflows. your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him close so that you can bury your face in his neck. you chant his name like a prayer, right next to his ear just to make sure he can hear.

joel's thrusts become sloppy, his hips canting wildly forward, and his breathing starts to grow shallow. you feel his cock twitch inside of you, but just before joel finishes he pulls out completely. he groans, his nose scrunching, fists squeezing the pillow behind you, as his release lands across your belly.

for a moment all that's heard is the quick breaths between the two of you. a warm feeling grows in your chest as joel presses his face into your neck, sighing heavily.

and then you laugh a little.

"what?" joel picks himself up and looks at you, puzzled.

"nothing," you hum, still dazed, and cup his face, "we should clean up."

"right." he agrees, staring back into your eyes for a second before kissing your forehead. "c'mon then, i'll run you a bath."

[multifandomrandomgirl]

The Ropes That Bind Us - Peter Tork x female!reader PART 14

Masterlist:

Taglist: @strawberry-sunset-skies

“Hey, Y/N! We’re going out for our gig now. Are you sure you’re going to be alright here?” Peter asked, tying his shoelace. The Monkees were going to play at a local restaurant, they were leaving Y/N at home so that she could have some time to herself and relax. 

“I’ll be fine! Don’t worry Peter. I honestly think I’m just going to have an early night, I’m shattered!” Y/N smiled, she’d been at the beach all day with Peter and Micky. They’d spent most of the time playing silly, childish games and building sandcastles. They’d only come inside when Mike called them in because they had spent all day outside without any skin protection and Mike, ever the parental figure, was scared they were going to get burnt.

“Okay! Well, we’ll be back at around half-eleven! Have a good evening.” Peter ran and hugged Y/N before picking up his bass and his banjo and heading out of the front door, following Davy and Micky towards the Monkeemobile.

“Have fun!” She called after him.

“See you later, Y/N.” Mike smiled at her before he closed the front door behind himself. Y/N glanced around the empty Pad. She had no idea that it could be this quiet. Y/N had a quick shower before she changed into one of the old shirts that Davy gave her and curled up in bed.

Soon rough, Y/N was flat out, not a single sound could disturb her, not even the sound of someone trying to break down the front door.

“Damn it.” A male voice snapped as he failed again to pick the lock of the Pad. He was determined to get into the house and take Y/N back. In his eyes, the Monkees didn’t need Y/N. He believed that she was useless to them and they only took her out of feeling guilty that she wasn’t like Peter. He wanted her back though, he needed her back in that basement room that he had held her in for the past three years, where she belonged. He knew she didn’t deserve the Monkees, and even if they did care about her, would they go back for her again? He could hurt them again, like he hurt them when he took Peter. Maybe he could get Peter back, the kind boy would surely chase after the girl which would then land him into the trap and then he’d be back in the dark room. He decided that this time, he would gag the girl and the bassist so that they were unable to communicate, he wanted them to suffer and to feel alone. He really would make the pair suffer this time.

“What is all that racket boys? It’s late, I will fine you!” Another male voice appeared, breaking the first one out of his thoughts. “You’re not the boys. Who the hell are you and why are you trying to get in my property?” Mr Babbit shouted angrily.

“Nothing, I’m just. I have something, someone in here that I need to take and the boys aren’t at home to let me reclaim them.” Lord Reynolds responded in annoyance. He was so close to taking Y/N back but the boys’ stupid landlord had caught him.

“You’re not going in there. I don’t care what's there that you want, you’re not having it. I refuse to let you damage my property, and as big of a pain those four boys are, I don’t want anything bad to happen to them, so you get a choice, you can continue, and I’ll call the police on you, or, you can walk away and pay damages. You’ve dented the door and I can see that the lock is dangling slightly. I’ll have to fix it. The choice is yours. However, I’d recommend you pay and then leave, otherwise things won’t be pretty.” Babbit threatened Lord Reynolds.

“You don’t understand, I need it badly. They took a girl from me and I need her back.” 

“I don’t think you do. I know these boys and I know they don’t act without reason. Now, I suggest you decide whether you want me to call the police or you want to pay damages and leave.” Mr Babbit crossed his arms, he made a mental note to ask the Monkees what was going on with that later on.

“I’ll pay, how much do I owe? I’m not having the police interfere.” Lord Reynolds snapped, Mr Babbit smirked. He knew that he’d choose that option and he decided that because the man looked so well off, that he was going to take a significant amount from him to cover rent for the boys.

“Good choice Sir. I’ll be needing ten thousand dollars Sir, you know, damage repair.” Babbit lied, nothing was actually damaged despite the fact he had told Reynolds it was before. He asked for two years worth of rent money for the Monkees. Lord Reynolds sighed and pulled a chequebook out of his pocket and filled in a check for Mr Babbit and handed it to him.

“Thank you Sir. Now kindly remove yourself off my property, if I ever see you around here again, I will phone the police.” Mr Babbit glared at Lord Reynolds. Lord Reynolds scowled and began to walk away.

He swore to himself that he would find a way to take Y/N back, even if it was the last thing he did. He wanted her back where she deserved to be. The money coming in from her parents for him to keep her locked up was good, very good. Although he was already rich, the extra money was nice to have anyway. Y/N’s parents paid him $2000 per day to keep hold of her, keep her out of their way for good. They had sent him a very angry letter when they found out that she had escaped and provided him with the address for the Pad so that Lord Reynolds could take her back.

They had originally paid him $10,000 to kidnap her, then continued to send money over as a sort of wage for keeping the daughter locked away. They had needed her gone, and fast. They had never really liked her much, any of the family, she’d never done anything wrong but they just despised her, and the opportunity arose for her to mysteriously disappear and so they took it with the promise of her never walking free and them never having to see her again.

After having kidnapped Y/N, Lord Reynolds’ adrenaline had made him want to take someone else, he had enjoyed kidnapping Y/N even though that had been planned. She hadn’t been too easy to take though. He was never able to find an easy target to take as a second victim, but when he saw Peter at the shop, he knew that he was a perfect victim, he didn’t appear to have a lot of common sense and so he looked easy to take. So he did take the bassist. He had half known who Peter was as he had seen some of their performances around a few pubs and a local park and so he knew he could hurt people by taking him. He had to admit, he admired Y/N for protecting Peter, a complete stranger, but that was beside the point. The point was, that he was in a lot of trouble for letting Y/N get away, and he was losing income for holding and torturing her. 

---

Three hours later, the four Monkees arrived back at the Pad, they brought in all their instruments and chatted amongst themselves about how well their gig had gone and the fact they had been booked back for the following week. They had just placed their instruments down on the bandstand when a knock sounded at the door.

They all looked at each other in confusion before Mike headed over to the door and looked through the peephole. “It’s Babbit?” Mike opened the door to their landlord.

“Boys, I know it’s really late and I do apologise, I just wanted to come and check on you all. Make sure you’re all safe.” Mr Babbit says.

“Safe? Why wouldn’t we be safe?” Davy asked from the sofa.

“There was a man here earlier who tried to break in, he said that you had a girl or something that he needed to take back from you four. I told him that I didn’t think he needed her back and that you don’t act without reason. Anyway, I threatened to call the police on him, but he paid me ten thousand dollars and I told him that if he came back, I would ring the police and hand him in. Let me know if he causes you any issues. The ten thousand will be used to cover your rent for the next two years. The least I can do. Just, be safe, okay?” Mr Babbit rambled, all four of the Monkees’ faces paled as their landlord explained to them the events of earlier that evening. “Anyway, I’ll be off now. Stay safe.”

“Thank you, Sir. For both the rent situation as well as informing us about the person trying to get in. Goodnight.” Micky called as Mike shut the door behind Mr Babbit.

“Was Mr Babbit just nice to us?” Davy looked up in utter disbelief, no one got a chance to answer as Peter stood up from his seat on the sofa and ran halfway across the room to check on Y/N.

“Come on guys, we have to check on Y/N. Who else would have tried to break into our house other than Lord Reynolds?” Peter yelled as he knocked on Y/N’s door, he opened it straight away without waiting for an answer, he was too anxious to wait for her to respond to him. He needed to know if she was okay.

Peter found that Y/N was still lying in her bed, fast asleep. He let out a relieved sigh as he focused on the girl.

“Hey Peter, you good babe?” Micky asked, resting a gentle hand on Peter’s shoulder as a means of comfort, Peter nodded before sitting down at the edge of Y/N’s bed and moved his leant over her, he moved some hair out of the way before stroking her face gently. She stirred at his actions and slowly opened her eyes.

“Pete?” Y/N yawned.

“You’re okay.” Peter smiled at her happily and pulled her into a tight hug, Y/N looked up at the other three boys behind Peter and they all offered her small smiles.

“Of course I’m okay, are you okay? How was your gig?” Y/N asked, moving over so Peter could sit next to her, Mike, Micky and Davy all sat on the end of the bed where Peter had previously been sat.

“Our gig was great, it was fine. Y/N, we came back and our landlord told us that Lord Reynolds came and tried to break in so that he could take you away.” Peter said softly, Y/N’s face fell. “I’m glad you’re here and alright though. Have you slept the entire time?”

“I did sleep the whole time you were gone, yes. Thank God he didn’t manage to get in, I can’t imagine being back there, I don’t want to imagine it.” Y/N shivered. 

“We’d have come for you again.” Micky assured Y/N who smiled at him gratefully.

“Mr Babbit said that if he comes back, he’ll ring the police on him for us. He charged him a lot of money which means we don’t have to pay the rent for two years. But as long as you’re safe and not back there, then I don’t care what happens.” Peter ran a hand through her hair, comforting the girl who was pulling bits of her skin off of her fingertips from the anxiety and thoughts of the fact she was nearly kidnapped again.

“Your landlord sounds nice.” Y/N said innocently, the four boys held back a laugh and nodded in agreement with her.

“Hey Y/N would you like to come and sleep in my bed tonight, so you’re safe?” Peter suggested, his question of course was innocent, but his bandmates knew he was trying to find an excuse to spend more time with her as well as getting to be close to her.

“If that’s okay? I’d definitely feel safer.” Mike, Micky, and Davy held back a smirk, they also knew that she was happy to find an excuse to be close to Peter.

Peter helped Y/N up and they made their way up to Peter and Davy’s bedroom, Peter quickly got changed and then the pair of them climbed into his bed. Peter lay on one side and Y/N was laying up against him, her head was resting on his chest as was one of her arms, both of Peter’s arms were wrapped tightly around her waist. They were both soon asleep.

Meanwhile downstairs, Mike and Micky were saying their goodnights to Davy and ensuring that their door was properly locked.

“Them two are ridiculous, they were both clearly looking for an excuse to spend time together and have physical contact but they’re both oblivious to the fact the other likes them back and they’re both too shy to admit it to each other!” Micky sighed, completely exasperated. 

“I know! It’s frustrating!” Davy agreed with Micky. Mike just rolled his eyes.

“Good night guys.” Mike said, he was desperate for his bed after the gig, his feet were killing him and he just wanted to sleep. Micky and Davy soon followed.

Davy reached his room and smiled at the sight of Peter and Y/N asleep, Peter was holding Y/N protectively, he was keeping her safe from the whole world.

“Please sort your shit out and get together.” Davy mumbled, flicking the light out and settling down in his own bed.

[evilasiangenius]

“Angel, the edge of your clothes are scorched and tattered. You’re looking rather shabby,” Asmodeus said as the tall angel with the good cheekbones strolled past him.

“Oh?” The angel stopped, a faint smile upon amused lips, and there was a certain playfulness to that expression that Asmodeus found charming. Looking down, the angel brought up the plain hem of the white robes up to scrutinize the damage, briefly baring long slender legs before dropping the cloth nonchalantly. “Yeeeaaah, that happens. Eh, it’s fine, fine. I work on nebulae. Nebulas. Whatever. It gets hot out there (except when it’s not and it’s super cold) and these are forever fraying and getting these tiny pinpoint holes burnt in them. Ha, do I smell like burning stars? I probably do, can’t be helped when you’re helping along the process of birthing stars.”

“Not particularly, no. You don’t smell much like anything. But if you like, I can mend the edge of your robes. They’re quite tattered. Though the more closely I look, the more I notice that your clothes are dusted all over with stardust. Shouldn’t you be decontaminating when you come off a shift?”

The tall angel looked down, at the faint sheen of iridescence that clung to the surface of the long white robes.

“Oh, I did just get off a shift but I never noticed the dust. Is that supposed to happen?”

“There should be a training about decontamination,” Asmodeus sighed, adding that and a training on professional attire to a long mental list of things he would bring up in the next management meeting.

“It’s fine, can’t help getting dusty when you’re working with big clouds of the stuff. At least I’m not covered in hydrogen. But you’re right, ha! Thanks for the offer on fixing the robes but it’s no big deal, you don’t need to bother with me. I fix them all the time before any serious meetings, and it just gets burnt up again once I get too close to a star and I’m forever getting too close to stars.”

“There should also be a training on proper safety working near stars…wait,” Asmodeus paused, remembering what he had meant to ask about and focusing on that. “I see you know Lucifer?”

“Yeah, he’s my manager. Well, not my direct manager but you know…” the tall angel pointed up. “Top manager of our division. Er, the executive of our division. Lots and lots – and I mean lots of tiers between me and him, but he’s friendly enough to say hi to all of his people. Not all Archangels are like that. Most of them are…”

“...distant?” Asmodeus suggested, providing the angel a safe, diplomatic answer.

“Yeah, that’s the polite word for it,” the tall angel said, with an intriguing quirk of amused lips. “Distant. But you know, I’m glad to work for Lucifer. He’s easy to work for and pretty relaxed for someone who’s got such a high position, even for an Archangel. Seraphim. Chayot Ha Kodesh. Whatever they’re being called these days. Wait, have I seen you around before?”

“No, I don’t think so. I don’t think I have seen you around either. Though that’s not surprising, there are quite a few of us. Far too many to know everyone.”

“Hey, so who do you work for?”

“Asmodeus,” Asmodeus said, neither lying nor telling the truth exactly.

“Oh, hmm. Must be nice, I hear he’s gentle. Doesn’t write up anyone, no matter how bad they mess up or how much they deserve it. I hear he always takes responsibility himself.”

“I suppose?” Asmodeus shrugged, feeling a peculiar pang of some unspoken feeling at being described as gentle. “What’s going on with your manager?”

“Huh? You mean my direct manager or-”

“I’ve heard rumors that some people associated with Lucifer want to make a complaint to Upstairs,” Asmodeus said, “and I thought I’d see if it was a true rumor.”

“Of course it’s a true rumor. I mean, we’re all angels, right?” The tall angel chuckled. “Anyway, you’d have to ask Lucifer or Beelzebub or...actually I don’t remember everyone who was talking about this. Some others, I guess? Those are the two highest up ones I know involved. They might be the only ones? There could be others? I don’t know them all, it doesn’t have much to do with me. I just know them through work. And I guess, socially, a little, though that’s still technically through work.”

“Not everyone is very happy these days,” Asmodeus said. “After all, even you’re getting dusty and scorched.”

“Yeah, well. Health and Safety hasn’t been that all that great. Not sure why. More than just Health and Safety though. Lots of other things where corners are being cut and resources are being diverted. That’s just part of the problem. And you know what?” the tall angel leaned in, voice lowered into a whisper. “To be honest, I’m not super fond of some of these new changes. Individuality. It’s weird. Feels weird to be in this, erm...what do they call it again?”

“Body,” Asmodeus said, as if he were not intimately familiar, as if he had no expertise with bodies, their construction, their functions...

“Yeah, this. This thing,” the tall angel gestured, pointing to various features: an elbow, a hip, the point of a shoulder. “Why do I look like this? Is this what I want to look like? I suppose someone would call it a preferred shape, but did I really prefer this shape? How would I have known to be this shape if I wasn’t...erm, poured into it? I’m me-shaped, and you’re you-shaped, and everyone else is everyone-else-shaped but how do I know that this is the shape that I want to be? Is everyone else in the shape they want to be? Or are they just in their own shapes because they are? Maybe I want to be another shape? Could I change that? And I don’t mean the way we can change sizes and such, I mean when we revert back to a default, could my default be different? A default I chose, instead of the default I was given? This hair and these arms? The color and the size? And legs – ah, don’t get me started on legs, they’re so strange and wobbly. Moving around with a body is like controlled falling and I feel like I’m constantly falling. Oh, and all these moving parts just get in the way when you’re trying to set stardust in the right place or big clouds of ionized hydrogen. Way easier to do these things without bodies, I didn’t always need to worry about burning my fingers or scorching the hem of my clothes on a newborn star.”

x

[simthorium]

Shooting for the film was halfway over, and Shea found herself enjoying every moment of it. Sarah was a great scene partner, and the two had a lot of fun together. She was starting to get sad the film was almost finished, but was looking forward to seeing the final product. The next day of shooting, the two showed up ready to get in the water.

Astrid squirted sunscreen in her hands and smoothed it all over her body. Jessie raised an eyebrow. “I think it’s a little late for that,” said Jessie. “We’ve been stranded out in the sun for days, it’s a miracle we haven’t burnt up yet.” “It’s not sunscreen, it’s tanning oil,” said Astrid. “Might as well make the most of the worst vacation ever.”

Astrid laid out on the sand, seriously about to tan. Jessie couldn’t help but laugh as she stood up. “I’m gonna go swimming, if you’d like to join,” said Jessie. “No thanks,” said Astrid.

Jessie was enjoying herself in the ocean, finally able to relax. Just as she started to feel serene, she felt a splash from behind her. “Marco!” Astrid shouted, splashing around with her eyes closed. “No fair, you saw exactly where I was!” Jessie laughed, joining the game.

Every afternoon, Jessie focused on fixing the communication device inside the cockpit. It seemed like a fruitless effort, but it was her only plan for rescue at this point. She hopped in the cockpit as usual, reaching through the wires and technology to resume her work from yesterday. Only, this time something was different. She felt around for a battery pack she’d seen yesterday but--it was gone.

Jessie spent upwards of an hour looking for the battery, starting to feel panicked. It was their one shot at getting saved; what had she done with it. The sun was setting and Astrid walked up to her, no doubt wanting to engage her in a stupid conversation about something. Jessie looked up to see Astrid plunking away on her phone...her working phone. Hadn’t their phones died days ago. Jessie stared at her as she put two and two together. “What the hell are you doing?” Jessie asked. “Playing Candy Crush,” said Astrid. “Everything on this island is so boring, gotta keep my spirits up somehow.”

“Did you take my battery pack?” Jessie asked, rushing up to her. “The charger? Yeah, I figured you weren’t using it,” said Astrid. Jessie felt like she was going to explode. “What the hell is wrong with you!?” she exclaimed. She snatched the phone and pack from Astrid’s hands, inspecting it. “It’s on red, Astrid!” “Am I supposed to know what that means?” she asked.

“This isn’t a phone charger, you idiot!” Jessie shouted. “It’s a battery pack for the plane comms! You know, the one thing on this stupid island that was gonna save us?” “How was I supposed to know that?!” Astrid said. “You should know not to touch stuff that’s not yours!” Jessie shouted. “You’re the one that said this isn’t my fault, you can’t just blame me!”

“It is your fault!” Jessie bellowed. “It’s ALL your fault! I didn’t want to fly you to the stupid fashion show to begin with, but your mother is the one who begged me to do it, like she’s always begging me to do things for you! I didn’t have a choice, but you did! But you’re too weak to do stand up for yourself, so we had to fly through a damn hurricane to your fashion show. And you’re too stupid to know that not everything is meant for you, so now we have no way of communicating with air control, so we’re stuck here forever!” Astrid stood, stunned as Jessie’s chest heaved from shouting so much. She blinked back tears, not sure what to say next. Jessie looked like she regretted the words as soon as she’d finished screaming them.

“FINE!” Astrid shouted, tears finally spilling out of her eyes. “If you hate me so much, why didn’t you just say that!” Astrid started packing up her stuff. “What are you doing?” Jessie asked. “Leaving! That’s what you want, isn’t it?” Astrid said. “I’ll take my stuff and head to the other side of the island. We’ll never have to see each other again.” “Astrid, no, please,” Jessie said. But Astrid had already packed everything up and was storming off into the jungle.

Astrid cried and wiped tears from her eyes as she walked through the jungle. It was much harder this time, now that is was dark. She didn’t care, though. She hurt too much from Jessie’s words, knowing she was completely right. She felt like a fool, and couldn’t bare to look at Jessie any longer.

[mirimage]

Aha I am not doing great rn long post ahead

I feel like ‘not great’ is an understatement lmao. Idk where even to begin.

I’m so exhausted all the time and unbelievably burnt out, but I can’t do anything about it because I have to keep going to work. And even if I could take a break or quit, would it even fix the problem? At this point I don’t know what it would take to feel okay again. I keep not being able to force myself to go to work and idk how much longer I’m gonna be able to keep a job before they fire me or I have to quit myself.

I’ve been trying to find a medication that actually does something for like two years now. I’m on the 6th combination and none of them have done a thing. At some point I’m gonna run out of stuff to try, and then what am I supposed to do? I’ve been basically banking my entire future on finding something that’ll make me be able to function.

My food issues are acting up because of the new house, my friends’ food choices do not blend well with me as well as them wanting to stick to a strict budget (which also annoys me because I’m the one earning the least in the house, why are they worrying about it.) I just end up not eating/eating very little instead of something they’ve made half the time, and eating way too many snacks.

I’m not sleeping enough because if I go to sleep it’ll be the next day and I’ll probably have to go to work, and night is the only time I can just relax and do my own stuff without worrying about anything else. I keep not showering for days in end because it’s just too much effort and makes me anxious, keep forgetting to do household stuff for the same reason and I feel like it’s only so long until my friends get sick of me.

I’ve been realising that I don’t really have many friends in the first place. I’ve barely talked to the person who I would have called my best friend for like months. She cancelled on an event we had planned for over a year the month before, as well as the past 2-3 times we’ve tried to meet up. I’d still consider her a friend, but to be honest we haven’t been best friends for at least a year. My partner is now my ex partner, we’ve talked once since we broke up and it ended extremely badly. He left our friends group chat today, he said he wanted to stay friends but I don’t know if that’s gonna happen. I have my housemates I guess, but even though I love them we really aren’t the same kind of people and I feel like they don’t understand anything about my life and who I am. We don’t really share any interests so I can’t talk to them about stuff I like.

Because of all that i feel so goddamn attention starved and just like desperate any kind of interaction. I’m a very clingy person but I don’t really know how to express it, which was fine when I had a partner to focus it all on but now there’s no one and all I want is to curl up with someone and take a nap. I just want a hug. I feel like this is being enhanced by my current fandom having fics that are literally exactly what I want. I like reading them because they’re so good but it fucking hurts because I know I’ll likely never get it.

I feel like I’m more myself online these days than in person. I don’t know if anyone in my offline life that actually knows who I am anymore. I just want someone to understand.

If you actually read this far then thanks I guess, I’ll be okay I promise.

[snickerdoodlesandsausages]

You are not dumb and have probably tried many things, but here’s what has helped me:

I absolutely cannot do intermittent goof-off rewards. I’m either in Work Mode or I’m not, and I can’t let myself out of Work Mode before I’m done or it’s over.

I often find it easier to get started if I have to accomplish a certain amount of Task before I have to leave to go do a fun thing that I will be sad if I have to cancel. It works best if it’s that day, but a day or two out can still work ok if the thing is exciting enough.

The fun thing can be seeing a friend or playing a video game or watching an extra episode or three of a show before bed, the important thing is that there is a limited period of time I have to accomplish the work and the promise of free time/friend time as the prize. If you have control over deadlines, try to give yourself ~half as much work as you think you COULD accomplish if you were Properly Dedicated, as it will decrease the chances of panic and despair and increase the chances of Extra Free Time, which is a) wonderful and b) will allow you to recover from adrenaline-fueled hard stuff, which takes a lot out of you.

I think there are 2 reasons this works for me:

1) race -> adrenaline for me, which is the only thing other than dopamine that will get me to do stuff, and

2) the thought of Infinite Work immediately makes my brain rebel. I need rest and playtime and if I don’t schedule enough of it every week and hold it as sacrosanct as any work obligation, I will take that time when I’m not supposed to have it. It’s ok to have goals, but “a year’s worth of work in a month by hyperfocusing for 8 hours a day” is not realistic and is a great way to get burnt out and injured if you somehow do it, and is a pointlessly discouraging way to think about yourself and your work if you don’t. Buying myself time to goof off with maximum delight and intention is much more motivating.

Another thing that helps is if I go to another place to work where I only have my work stuff, so that I can’t immediately act on thoughts of “I should really do my laundry” or “do I have enough milk in the fridge” or whatever, and I have to work around whatever I forgot to bring. Forgot my charger? Guess I have to get this done before my battery dies. Don’t like this song? I’m not in charge of the playlist anyway.

A third thing that helped when I had to do Infinite Notes for a history class was timing how long it took me to read and summarize each paragraph and work to get my times down. I started at 5 minutes, then worked my way down to 4 then 3 then sometimes I could do it in 2, WITHOUT doing it any worse; I learned how to pick out and write down what I actually needed to know much faster.

If there’s an equivalent “task that takes 5 minutes or less that you have to do a bunch of times” for any of the steps of Draw Comic (plan poses for one panel? Line art of one object? Flat colors on one object? Idk but you probably do) you might give it a shot. Don’t relax your standards, but I guarantee there is a bite small enough that you can do it right in that amount of time. You’re not here to churn out mediocre garbage, you’re here to achieve excellence efficiently. When you’re done, take 30 seconds for a deep breath, food/water, fix your posture/stretch, then dive right into the next one and try to do it faster and better so that your momentum doesn’t die.

Racing is a really tiring way to work, so don’t heap too much on yourself. Don’t do more than you need to meet your deadlines, and don’t work ahead without plans for your time off.

Does anybody know any faster ways to get yourself into Work Mode? The way I try to slowly build up momentum by allowing myself to just do nothing uninterrupted until the urge to get work done comes naturally doesn't work because my Doing Nothing can and will get interrupted, so it's like trying to build a card house while locked in an elevator with five ferrets who hate it in the elevator and want to get out but don't understand that you have to build the card house in order to open the door, so they keep knocking it over because they're bored and anxious and keep stopping you from doing what you all want to get done.

[marengogo]

Rambling in INFJese - Part 8: Me, Myself & Jikook

Soweto - by Victony, Tempoe  [Outlaw]

[Music is a very big part of my life and I’m MOSTLY INCAPABLE of writing without music, so I just thought I'd share what I am listening to while writing this]

🐺 — 🐺 — 🐺—

Ladies, Gentlemen and Distinguished Enbies; I’m finally back well sort of, as I’m writing to you on my train back home.

Although I’m indeed back physically from all the little trips I took during the festive period, between Europe and Africa, I am very thrilled to say that I am also ready to begin a healthy coming back mentally and emotionally, and now those have been pretty absent since November 2019.

Needless to say, the journey toward me being ready to regain my Mind & Emotions has been a fucking struggle. I had to start with admitting that I was not okay first and foremost, which finally happened towards the end of 2020, I must specify that non of my mental or emotional woes had anything to do with COVID the virus only heavily affected my business, which in turn affected my finance etc etc, but we made a miracle recovery in 2022, so thank the spirits for that!. 

In addition, I also had to realise that I was burnt-out through and through, hence, I didn’t have the energy to actually do anything, be it physical or not, and that that was okay. Basically I needed a way to begin my physical, mental and emotional rebirth so the festive trips were mostly planned with that mind state, because even though most of the trips turned out to be incredibly relaxing, mindless and super fun fun; one, the last and main one, wasn’t. 

The last trip I took the one where some of my friends had problems at the airport, that one was specifically related to my family and it was the one I dreaded the most, because it meant I had to face “music” I wasn’t ready to dance to, let alone listen to. This particular trip was meant to happen in 2020, but COVID etc-etc. Then, something happened in 2022 that made it impossible for me to postpone it any further and by November 2022, even though I was still scared shitless, I got to a point in which I wanted and I was ready to finally do this. 

Luckily for me other family members and friends decided to join me on this trip; we love travelling people in my circle, so ANY excuse really! We started with fun stuff first, and travelled like there was no tomorrow and then left the serious part for last (could have, I would have preferred to do the tough part first and the fun last, but that part was during a family gathering and its date was fixed).

So, attend the gathering I did, and low-and-behold, it turned out to be not as bad as I had envisioned it to be. Needless to say, all my fears and insecurities lied within me and were all also amplified by me. Mind you, they were not baseless, because there are some major issues within my family, but what I realised this time around is that for some things there is really nothing I can do about it and that at times, understanding and admitting this is a start. Furthermore, finding a way that would allow me to coexist without compromising myself in an unhealthy way, is the only/best thing I can do. 

Facing things head-on is the best way I know how to do things and for the past 2 years and some I had been scared shitless to do so. The last time I did, November 2019, left me traumatised and the chain reaction of tragic and unfortunate event that followed that didn’t help either.  But 2021 rolled around and though I was still burnt-out and not okay at least a part of me knew I wanted to be okay. Thus, I began with therapy; the best decision I made in my situation, which btw, I had been advised to go to since that fateful November 2019, but I wasn’t ready. Another thing that was important for me to own up to was that; You know yourself best, and if you are not ready, you are not ready. 

People around you that care for you will keep trying to push/guide you into getting to a better place, because in their eyes they see you suffering and are trying to help. If you do have said people in your life, make sure to listen to them, just listening won’t hurt, it is already a blessing in itself to actually have people who care about you. HOWEVER, don’t force yourself to do anything you are not ready for. Always do things on your own time and at your own pace. For example, there is another situation I wanted to resolve in 2022 and ended up not really would have been too much on my plate in addition with my family gathering thingy, but I am now ready so I’ll do it now in 2023. My Own Time, My Own Pace.

And there it is! 2023 is going to be me beginning my journey of proper self-healing 🧡💙. I can feel it in my bones that I’m ready to face all that comes at me and take charge of my life again. Oh and I know you all know I am big on Mythology, but Astrology is also another of my passions, so just in case you were curious about the colour palette and keywords for your sign this year, please find them following I’m Gemini BTW:

Now, Let’s talk Jikook shall we? 

In reality I’d like to talk BTS, but then again, I mean, when don't I want to talk BTS 😜. For example, I’d like to point out that Jin’s first month away is officially today and now there are 17 more months to go. I know it sounds like no time has passed, but if you think about it, 30/31 days have come and gone and even though I miss him like hell I check that bloody count-down everyday, I am so freaking happy just being able to say; 1 month down, 17 to go (We started at 548 days y’all!).

The passing of time is indeed made less noticeable when other things are happening doesn’t it? The rest of the members are still very active J-Hope has sort of become the BTS Awards Spokesperson as well as going around the world to perform. Joon is still working on music, Taekook are being Taekook and should be allowed to (in the sense that Tae as always keeps in contact with ARMY as often as he does and on the other hand JK doesn’t 😎; all very regular), Yoongi is Yoonging to the highest degree possible (I have a separate post planned for Min-Fabulous-Gi) and Park Jimin, well Park Jimin; TOMORROW CAN’T COME ANY SOONER:

Time is passing, Time is constant and Time is something that some Jikookers are not understanding, or taking properly into consideration. Time will bring about an unprecedented number of Montagues and will decimate a substantial number of Jikookers. Sure, we are going to get content that was filmed in 2022, documentaries, RUN episodes, we might also see them when all the other members leave for the military but supposing that BTS gets back together December 2025, let’s say 13 December 2025 for counting-sake, which would mean that if we start counting from today, Jikookers are looking at not having any Jikook interaction, possibly, for the next 1067days.

1067 DAYS.

We will all be 2 years older by then, we could have 1 year old children by then, we could be owners of great business by then, life could have changed drastically by then. A lot WILL HAVE happened by then so ...

Please let that sink in and understand what this means.

So what could/does this mean exactly? Publicly, nothing much really, because everything has been the same since July 2019. I’ve already tip-toed on the subject a couple of times but, to be more precise, everything had been the same, publicly, for Jikook, since July 14, 2019, when this selca was published. 

This last non-work related Jikook selca was posted a couple of months after Rose Bowl and way before HickeyGate, one being an out of the blue, hella spontaneous moment, the other being a moment we didn’t witness, but was “explained/reported” to us by Yours-Truly-Jikook. 

After July 14, 2019, any SM/public interaction from Jikook has either come under the form of HBD wishes, brand sponsorship, paid content, RUN BTS or during concert. Thanks so some of which we know that, for example, Jikook still actually do take selcas and JK still does takes videos of JM; we just are most likely never gonna get to see them as of present.

Furthermore, after July 14, 2019, when/if they do hangout together privately, it is either relayed to use through other members or through people who breach privacy for a living, which fuck them indeed. All this just to say that if we properly stopped and think we REALLY HAVEN’T BEEN GIVEN ANYTHING FROM JIKOOK THEMSELVES, ABOUT SOMETHING PRIVATE RELATING TO THEM, FOR AT LEAST 3 YEARS NOW. 

Wanna think even further? After July 2019, Jikook are the only two members who seem to always gravitate towards each other whenever we’ve seen them at Awards shows, they are always in perfect harmony on RUN BTS, they are always happy with each other on Banftan Bombs, and still do shenanigans during their yearly Memories. 

JM, alongside Hobi, brought his pretty self to visit JK on his birthday and on the other hand JK’s mother decided that you know what “we will have a seaweed soup today because it is JM’s birthday, even though he is not my son”. Jikook are seemingly very close and comfortable with each other, like they’ve always been, if not even more than before. Yet they are the only ones who have never commented/liked each other’s posts or INTERACTED on IG. Capulets and Montagues will tell you that because of this lack of interaction, all the aforementioned is clearly fanservice, but you and I, let’s be for real for a second.

We all know the great non-importance of the members interaction with each other on SM, which Yours-Truly-Jin has reminded us of before leaving to serve his country, but also we know very well that, although each couple in the world is different, many famous ones, do stay clear from interacting on SM, particularly if they are not official yet. Take my dearest Zendaya and Tom for example, before they announced their relationship, Zendaya only liked Tom’s IG if it was something directly related to spiderman or if she was directly tagged, which Tom aside for spiderman promotion, Tom has ever only did for her birthday. 

Zendaya had explained that she had always been paranoid for media to find out and she wanted this part of her life to be private, so she was VERY CAREFUL and weary of public interactions as much as she could, but they are both young, human and famous, so people who breach privacy for a job, caught them in a very private moment, which they impulsively had public …

Now that they are out and about together, Zenday is virtually liking all of Tom’s pics, same for Tom with Zendaya’s. Since being official, they’ve posted incredibly sweet birthday posts for each other and Tom is doing the most to promote her projects LOL; but this has been after they became official. 

Now, not only JK and JM live in a rather complicatedly-homophobic country, but they are about to enlist, which ones again, let’s be real, does this seem like the right time to be “parading gay pride and flags”? If I were you, I’d take time to concentrate on members' projects, rewatch all BTS shows from the beginning, take up a hobby if you don’t have one, save money for the biggest concert that will have ever taken place on planet Earth for when they get back in 2025/2026. 1067 days are 1067.

I’m personally rather booked for this year and coming, it seems, mostly private life, but don’t worry, I intend to still write quite a lot, about all members, and things regarding Jikook of course, there is so much that has happened and that is worth discussing, at least it is of interest to me. And if within this 1067 days, Jikook do something, which they intentionally wanted for us to partake in something current and private related to their life, something not pre-recorded, branded etc etc, then please don’t forget that because they DO NOT OWE us any private interactions, THAT would be considered one of the HIGHEST privileges bestowed upon us, by Yours-Kindly-And-Truly-Jikook.  

Very happy to be back and, as always, very respectfully yours,

Happy New Year 2023 🫰🏾💜,

Marengo.