#all I can really think to do is a) post this so this is no longer living in my brain and I can actually go to sleep and b) ill probably

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere YouTuber

Short drabble request for @labodabi

I see him as a commentary YouTuber. Always on podcasts talking about the latest fashion or TV sensation. A good looking guy, always perfectly groomed and styled. Falls into that soft boy category - fluffy hair, lots of sweaters, a rescue cat that's always in the video out-takes. Approachable, comforting.

You interact for the first time when you make a video response to one of his controversial takes. You're no established youtuber, your channel doesn't even have any videos before you post about him. You don't add any fancy graphics or music. Just you and your slightly busted ring light, ranting at him for totally misrepresenting your interest.

But people are totally into it. You're passionate. You're funny. You're a breath of fresh air compared to the over produced, over budgeted videos that crowd the homepage.

He invites you on his podcast. Secretly, he expects you to back down. Be camera shy. You're just a no name with a phone camera and he's a guy who gets a million views within a day of uploading. It's got to be intimidating, right?

Nope. You're just the same in person as you were in your video. Not scared to challenge his opinions, not afraid of the lights and team of editors. When the video finally goes out, people eat it up.

User17899: OMG THE CHEMISTRY

sakura blossom: theyre so cute together im putting money on a hard launch in a week or two

YouTube Daddy 69420: he's so into them. just look at his eyes

And with such a great response, it's only natural that you get invited on again. That you start featuring in his full length videos. That he starts tagging you in every Instagram post.

You have no intention of being an influencer. But damn if the money isn't good. If the PR packages aren't sweet.

You move to the same city as him. Let him teach you the ins and outs of the biz. And he eats it up. Takes every opportunity to be your 'internet big brother.'

Yeah, right. Some sick big brother he is, going home and jerking it to pictures of you together. Shooting all over his screen just so it lands on your face. A real great guy.

It's only when you start build your own following that the toxicity really comes out. He wants you reliant on him, on his fame. Having your own channel blow up is just annoying. It gives you too much leverage - you don't need him for views anymore, you can walk away whenever you want. He can't stand it.

That's when he starts being sneaky about things. Starts hitting your videos with copyright infringement and DMCA takedowns the second you go live. Starts contesting your monetisation. Starts using bots to mass report your posts. All anonymously of course. Or through a shell company. Hey, he's been in this biz too long to make a rookie mistake.

And when you're at your wits end, when rent is due and you're broke from trying to get your videos back up, that's when he steps in. Says you guys can collab and he'll give you more than half of the sponsorship money.

Smiles all sweet and charming when he leans in and says, "There's lots of ways to pay me back, so don't worry about it."

You naive thing. He was never going to ask for money in return. No, what he wants is much harder to come by and all the sweeter for it. You think just 'cause he seems like a good guy that he's nice all the way through? That wearing nail polish and doing mud masks on cam makes him any less of a man? Any less hungry? No way baby.

And when it's time to pay up and he's pushing you to your knees, fingers practically ripping his belt buckle loose, you think he's going to stop just because you ask him to? When he has you exactly where he wants you? No matter how polite he is on the surface, he's still just a man.

[muqingslover]

Ok, so... this might be a bit of a +18 think piece, but... what do you think the lads men would have as their top 3 kinks? I started thinking about it after I read the Xavier somno one, lol. Maybe I'm crazy but I think Caleb would have blindfolds/rope play in his top 3 (on mc not on him, since he wants to see all of you but is very resultant to show all of himself back due to fear of rejection+ if mc is tied up she can't leave)

[ choosing only three was a lot harder than I thought whew. Also, I'm testing out different layouts rn so don't mind me (⁠^⁠～⁠^⁠;⁠)⁠ゞ]

Xavier

Predator/Prey Play: This guy is the literal definition of wolf in sheep's clothing. What gets him going is the thrill of the hunt and the turntables (his specialty), which is why he will often let you think you're in control and have your fun teasing him only to then pounce when you least expect. If you run from him then you better pray he won't catch you or not.

Exhibitionism: This might be a hot take but walk with me. Xavier is a very jealous man so he won't ever allow anyone to actually see you, buuuut he is very into letting others know you belong to him. You gotta leave for a mission with someone else? Not to worry, all he needs is 10 minutes in the bathroom stall. The bread guy is back at it again? It can't be helped, he'll just have to fuck against the door while he's knocking to show you're busy. He'd love to see you struggling (and failing) to keep your voice down and looks like a smug cat when others notice the marks he left on you.

Cunnilingus: This man eats pussy like a goddamn champ. He absolutely adores having your thighs wrapped around his head, to the point he finds it comforting, and the feeling of his tongue stretching open your dripping pussy for his cock later. Your taste is something he could have every day, which he will if you let him, and he takes pride when you're left a writhing, whimpering mess that begs for him to fuck you.

-----------------------------♡♡♡------------------------------

Zayne

Bondage: The joke about him tying MC up with surgical knots was definitely not a joke. In my opinion, rather than the power rush over the control he has over you, what really gets him off is the trust you put in his hands. Bondage is all about having faith in your partner to never truly hurt you and knowing you see him that way makes him feel beyond special. Given the chance he'd love to have you wrapped in dark blue, silky ribbons and the aftercare is top tier with this guy.

Lingerie: For some reason I feel like Zayne is REALLY into seeing you wearing lingerie. Ladies, feel free to tease him by telling him you're wearing one, but not letting him see until he's home much later. He'll spend the entire day imagining what type of lace you have under your clothes and he pretty please asks you to strip for him as a reward for waiting.

Phone Sex: Another one I just have a feeling it's his thing. I mean, he is a busy man and sometimes it can't be helped, people have needs yk. He'd like the feeling of knowing you think of him as much as he does of you when the other is not around. The photos you send and the sounds of your needy whines right next to his ear goes straight to his cock and he is mortified when the post-nut clarity hits him and he realizes what he did in his own office.

-----------------------------♡♡♡------------------------------

Caleb

Overstimulation: I'm an overly sensitive Caleb truther. The overstimulation has his head spinning so good that he can barely form a coherent thought that isn't your name while he slams into your pussy for the nth time like a desperate man. He doesn't want to simply break you he wants to break together, to the point neither of you can think about anything else besides how good it feels.

Roleplaying: I've lost count of the amount of times we've seen him and MC roleplaying and this man will unironically take it to the bedroom. It starts as a joke where he's only doing it to make you laugh, but then he won't allow you to break character and will edge you until you say your "lines" correctly. Forceful and cold soldier? Check. Teasing and pervy Gege? of course. A loving and gentle husband? Sign him up. Strict teacher? No need to ask twice.

Brat Taming: Now defying Caleb is the equivalent of waving a red flag in front of a bull and you better run because when he catches you you're done for. He needs you to need him as much as he needs you and if he has to break you for you to admit it then he will. The rush of being the one in charge and "taking care" of you in a way no one else will is enough to have his cock throbbing.

-----------------------------♡♡♡------------------------------

Sylus

Breeding AND Biting: These two go hand in hand every time you have sex with him. He craves to have a family with you but, more than anything, he wants you to be as full of him as his heart is of you. He wants you to be so filled with his cum that he has to keep his cock inside otherwise it'll leak out of you. He absolutely enjoys the slippery mess your warm insides become when he rocks his hips into you, slowly but deep, pushing his cum even further into your womb and hoping you'll get pregnant.

Body Worship: I've said it once and I'll say it again: Sylus is a lover boy! ! ! Each kiss on your skin is an offering, a promise and a worship. He wants to know the parts of your body not even you do and give you the love you deserve. The praises he whispers against your body are similar to a prayer and he could spend years exploring every inch of you without ever getting tired. You're the very reason for his existence and any less is just unacceptable.

Size: This guy is not only big but he's also very large. He is a softie who likes to tease you about how small you are compared to him while he holds your hand and pretends he doesn't hear your complaints about him suffocating you after the draped his heavy body over yours. That feeling of satisfaction extends when he has to gently coo you and kiss your tears away while he's spreading your little hole open. He can't help the fangy grin on his lips when he feels his cock bulge on your tummy and he holds your hand over the spot so you feel how deep he is inside of you as well.

-----------------------------♡♡♡------------------------------

Rafayel

Rough Sex: Another controversial take but I feel like he's a secret sadist just not the extreme type. Man can flip his demeanor from "harmless babyboy" to intimidating sea god in a split second who knows what else he's hiding under that purple wig. He'll keep an almost cold demeanor while he coaxes whimpers out of you in the best way and a wicked smirk spreads across his face at the sight of your tears, spurring him on until he's completely broken you.

Food Play: That's definitely one way to make sure he actually eats. Having you be his meal will make him hungry like never before and oh he absolutely will feast (this may or may not be a reference to this). He makes a point of not using his hands while licking along your skin, tasting the sweet chocolate before he left a purple mark on your thighs. Oh, this goes both ways so please pour wine on him and lick him clean ;)

Body Painting: I forgot if there's an actual English term for this but Rafayel would love to draw on your skin and watch you squirm each time the soft, wet brush went over your perked up nipples. He'd scold you when you move because you're making him smudge the lines and holds you in place with his free hand, warning you to stop or he'll take "extreme measures" to make you keep still. You are the only one he'd ever dare to call a masterpiece.

[barrenclan]

Alone in the middle of a desolate wasteland, BarrenClan is a hardy and irritable group of cats. They have lived there for generations, and eke out survival in this unforgiving land. But one of their new apprentices, the bold and curious Pinepaw, is determined to discover the terrible truths buried under the sand, as well as rise to meet the changes coming to his Clan.

"Pinepaw and the Forgotten World" was a Warriors-inspired illustrated prose comic that ran on this blog from September 2022 - February 2025. As it is currently completed, this blog will contain MAJOR spoilers for the comic. If you are a new reader, please use the "Next" link below to be taken to the cover of this project. You can also read a mirror of the project on ComicFury, linked below. Navigational tags and other information are tagged below on this post as well.

Next >

ComicFury mirror

Yes, you have my permission to use a style and/or format inspired by this comic for your own projects. 

This comic is not based on the text-based game ClanGen/LifeGen. It was based off the Clan Generator challenge, which you can see in this video.

Helpful tags for navigating this blog (click on the search icon):

#issue: a list of all the completed issues. Use this tag to only see issues of the comic. 

#reference: reference sheets for the characters. 

#lore: background information about the world of the comic. 

#extra art: drawings I create outside of the comic itself. 

#fanart: drawings other people have made for the comic.

Allegiances: Family Tree (spoilers)

PATFW Discord: https://discord.gg/y3hAGVbfUK

PATFW Playlist: Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0GZWVmucv2DvA4H7uLwquk (Song Guide)

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLwTmUrr_9zUlCvQijucEkukNtiRpwktqs

Complete masterpost of issues, underneath Keep Reading link:

Issue 1 - Dry Heat and Cracked Earth

Issue 2 - I’ve Never Heard That Name Before

Issue 3 - Stupid Little Kit Daydreams

Issue 4 - It’s Just Like Falling Asleep 

Issue 5 - Smoke and Ash and Fire and Salt and Blood

Issue 6 - Healers Hear All The Secrets

Issue 7 - Foxholes Bite Back

Issue 8 - Do You Really Think That’s Your Destiny?

Issue 9 - It’s Only a Deer

Issue 10 - What Was That Now, Dear?

Issue 11 - We’re Held Together By Spiderweb

Issue 12 - The Shining Towns

Issue 13 - To Kill Is Right. To Kill Is Good. To Kill Is To Live.

Issue 14 - The Rotten Stench of Blood

Issue 15 - Was It Something I Did?

Issue 16 - I Bet You Can’t Catch Me

Issue 17 - You Are the Darkness Before the Storm

Issue 18 - I Met Him Under a Warm Dawn

Issue 19 - Kindness for the Dying Is Easy to Spare

Issue 20 - KITTENS! KITTENS! KITTENS!

Issue 21 - Lovebug

Issue 22 - A Favor for a Favor

Issue 23 - Your Voice Was So Soft

Issue 24 - Lost In a Haze

Issue 25 - You Don’t Speak to My Daughter That Way

Issue 26 - My Heart Is Too Heavy to Sleep

Issue 27 - Little Paws Take Little Steps

Issue 28 - Viscera, Shiny in the Light of Day

Issue 29 - We’re Not So Different, You and I

Issue 30 - Time Is a Circle

Issue 31 - Blood

Issue 32 - Cassandra

Issue 33 - Hurt Me! Beat Me! Just Please Don’t Leave Me!

Issue 34 - Sunset Days

Issue 35 - The Death of BarrenClan: Part One

Issue 36 - The Death of BarrenClan: Part Two

Issue 37 - The Death of BarrenClan: Part Three

Issue 38 - The Death of BarrenClan: Part Four

Issue 39 - The Death of BarrenClan: Part Five

Issue 40 - Aftermath

Issue 41 - Oracles

Issue 42 - Our Lasting Legacy

Issue 43 - Farewell, and I Love You

Epilogue 1 - The Last Ruby-Red Drop of Flame

Epilogue 2 - Moth-Soft Murmurings

Epilogue 3 - A Dream, A Nightmare

Epilogue 4 - Sunlight Here and Shadows There

Epilogue 5 - Gold Flowers

Epilogue 6 - Binary Star

Epilogue 7 - While You Were Dead

Epilogue 8 - The Ash of Memory

Epilogue 9 - A Rule of Fear

Epilogue 10 - The Vaster World

[mewmew-reads]

This is why I annotate the hell out of everything I read. I write the way the book makes me feel, intrusive thoughts, things that irritate me in the moment, basically anything. My life at that very moment is directly reflected into the books I read. I write my definitions on the inner margins and my personal thoughts on the outer margins. I also draw, doodle, tape random shit on all the pages. I'll spend hours reading almost everyday and will still only get through a chapter. 30-50 pages a day is my average.

And don't think I just stick to one book. I have a decent sized library where I hop around based on my mood (and you can bet your ass I record all those feelings as I hop around). Every book I have feels like a direct portal into my soul. Books are meant to be loved and read (in my opinion). Why not embody your entire person into everything you read?

I really do have to post my annotations sometime. It's something I'm really proud of and encourage people to do as well. And yes, I do have a pretty good memory of all the things I've read so far. I have so many memories attached to every beat, it's hard to forget.

When you take the time to put your heart into each story, reading goals don't really matter as much. Instead of showing off how much you've read; you can show off your art, your thoughts, and just you love for the things you read. Even if you drop a book, you still have a whole section in the book of memories of you hating the book and I think that's so awesome. (Also, if your not such a crazy mood reader like me, this can save you so much money.)

All y'all annotation haters don't know what your missing out on. See how sick my annotations are (when I get around to posting them) and try to tell me shit. I DARE YOU!

How about in 2024 we stop it with reading books with the goal in mind to finish the book so you can add it to your list of read books and start reading books slowly and intentionally with the goal to rip it into pieces with your mind and be touched by it and formed by it and changed by it

[paddockletters]

redeemed | lando norris part 3

masterlist | previous part | next part summary: dynamic between lando and the you. a/n: if you want to be added to the 'tag list' please let me know in the comments

years ago 2021

yourusername

Liked by lando and 29,652 others

yourusername: much-needed night with my favourite girls💗

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lando:Left out AGAIN. This is becoming a pattern, Y/N

bestfriend: finally, a Lando-free night

carlossainz55: this is the one day a year Y/N takes a break from babysitting Lando

maxfewtrell: FINALLY, a night without your second shadow (lando)

user: the way lando is literally in the comments feeling betrayed 💀

user: WHERE is Y/N’s dress from??

user: the fact lando is already complaining in the comments

yoursername posted stories

yoursername posted stories

yoursername posted stories

lando

Liked by carlossainz55 and 263,261 others

lando: glad to be back!!

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user: THE WAY Y/N AND LANDO ARE SMILING 😭

yourusername: This is an attack on my right to enjoy pasta in peace

↪ lando: then keep crying

user: I just know Lando stole food off Y/N’s plate at least twice

user: do they REALLY need to be in every post together?

user: Okay but why is Y/N everywhere? Like can Lando ever post without her in it?

user: Y/N’s eating pasta like it’s her last meal and I respect that."

user: Okay but that last pic?? THEY’RE SO CUTE??

user: i can tell Lando and his brother are menaces while Y/N just enjoys her food

user: No but why do Lando and Y/N look like a couple here???

user: they are best friends, we get it. no need to remind us every second

lando

Liked by lewishamilton and 593,378 others

lando: How I feel right now. Inches away from P3. My mistake, I misjudged it and the time was deleted. Sorry to everyone at @ mclaren, I effed up, you deserved better today.

View all comments

carlossainz55: we win together, we lose together. On to the next one, mate👊

user: still a strong race. keep pushing!

yourusername: you’ll be back stronger, you always are. we still think you’re cool, don’t worry 😌

user: lando, don’t be so hard on yourself! You drove amazingly today

user: you gave it your all, that’s what matters. We’re proud of you! 💙🧡

taglist @hadesnumber1daughter @harrysdimple05 @royaleaxis @angelluv16 @formulaal @chezmardybum @freyathehuntress @taylorrrrrrrrrrswiftttt @azuramicah @anayaverse @awritingtree @norrisainz33 @rbv3rstappen @clemson20 @mintdde0nu @blushmimi

[bunni-v1]

Oh, I would absolutely love to find out (in response to the post about Reader treating his minions like kids)! How do you think Shadow Milk would be like as a father? How would he treat his kid? :)

I don’t think Shadow Milk likes kids… but I also think he loves kids. Does that make sense? Like, he finds kids snotty and annoying, but they’re also really funny. They do stupid stuff and they’re so simple, it almost makes all their annoying habits cute. Almost.

He doesn’t really think too hard about having kids, mostly because… why would he? He’s an immortal god, he doesn’t really need to reproduce for any reason. But if he were presented with the idea by his partner I don’t think he would oppose. In fact, he loved the idea of making a kid! That’s all fun and dandy, but after the child is born (baked?) how does he feel.

Well, believe it or not, he realizes that he does like kids really quickly! Just, only his kids. Every annoying trait he seemed to despise before becomes undeniably charming coming from his little one. Oh, and if they look anything like you, help his soul he may crumble on the spot. He can’t help the way his dough softens when they bat their little eyes up at him all innocent like.

He 100% has a set of twins (bless his insane gene pool), and they are the lights of his life. They’re a nice mix of the both of you, and you’ll catch him staring at them a lot. He just can’t help it, seeing the product of your love is nice. Just one glance and any cookie could tell who’s the parents, it’s nice to have that literal living reminder that you love him enough to settle (sorta) with him.

They really can do no wrong in his eyes, unless you say they’re doing wrong, then it’s “listen to your parent kiddo” because he’s still stupidly in love with you. If you’re not around to tell them no, he’ll let them do whatever the hell they want. Hell, he encourages mischief and misbehavior, so long as they won’t get hurt from it.

He’s the fun dad, which is to be expected. He takes them on adventures and teaches them how to play pranks and even teaches them magic if they like. He wants them to grow up feeling like they’re on top of the world, because they are.

Still, he instills and demands respect toward both of you from them. He’s not above (reasonable and approved by you) punishments for either of them taking it too far. He also won’t tolerate disrespect to you, even if you’re the “no fun” one.

And, keeping it real for a second, he loves his kids. He really does. He’d never imagined having little cookies to care for, but he’d kill for them. When he first held their tiny little bodies in his arms, his whole world came together.

He’d lived his whole life bigger and grander than any other cookie, but holding his babies with you at his side… well he’d never felt smaller. He doesn’t typically like quiet, but he had no words to fill up the silence as he stood in awe of the beautiful children in his arms.

He’s a good dad, he wants to be a good dad. I know it’s hard to believe but once he gets these things he cherishes them. He would never forsake the family he was able to build up and keep as his own. The few cookies in all of earthbread that he let in would be loved like no others.

[max-nicoxfandom]

Happy WIP Wednesday ! Here is a first draft/snippet of a random chapter in my long fic I'm working on (don't go looking for it, still unsure if I'm going to post it), bc I think I'm gonna take this part out even if I really like the concept.

Danny is like 6-7yrs old in this

Danny is a weird kid.

That's not to say Dick expected him to be normal when his family took him in. No, even if Danny wasn't still half dead, no one in this family is normal. Not even Duke and Barbara, the self proclaimed normies of the family.

Danny has brought a certain life to the manor, even in death, that has Dick contemplating moving back. Somehow, even Jason has been spending more time than usual there. Arguments have been lessened, the manor has been less creaky and more settled, Alfred even looks a little younger these days.

It's both the fault of Danny's sweet exterior, and the odd green that swirls in the blue of his eyes. Not the same hue as Jason's, but something near to it.

He's a lot like Jason, actually. Dick is sure if Jason had come to them just a little bit younger he'd be the spitting image of Danny.

It's the little things that make them look so similar. Almost everyone in the manor has the blue-green eye, black hair combo. It's everything else in Danny that makes him look exactly like Jason.

Danny likes to wish the moon good morning when he sees it during the day, and insists on opening his curtains when he goes to sleep so the moon can listen to his bedtime story too. He likes to check his stuffed animals for injuries when they fall off furniture. He thanks Alfred for his food, and thanks his food for being yummy. When he leaves the manor, he blows the building a kiss goodbye.

Dick does not tell Bruce that the house pulls itself from the ground, and creaks back.

Sure, Jason wasn't dead (not yet, anyway), but he was so excited to be alive. He had that same disposition to do good to everyone and everything that Danny does. Jason may not be some sort of partial human like Danny, but Jason was Robin, and Robin? Robin is magic.

You don't have to believe in ghosts for them to be real, and you don't have to see Danny for him to exist. On the same wavelength, you don't have to see Robin to know Jason made him magic. It was just the truth. Like how the sky is blue and Bruce is Batman.

Dick is watching his life be changed one step at a time, just like it was with Jason–like how it was supposed to be with Jason–and like it was with his siblings.

He keeps flowers in his car now. He didn't before, he never had a reason for it.

But one time, Danny cried as they passed a graveyard. He was sitting curled up against the window in the back while Dick hummed along to some ballad on the radio. It was peaceful, as things tend to be when Danny's around, and even as the kid cried Dick never stopped feeling tranquil. He knew everything would be okay, Dick would stop at nothing to make his new brother happy again.

“I have no flowers.” He’d said. Dick hadn't even gotten the chance to ask what was wrong. “They'll all be so sad I came by, and I had no flowers.”

Danny's eyes were green when he'd spoken. Green, teary, and filled with more mourning a child should ever understand. Dick's heart broke about a thousand times over.

So now Dick keeps flowers in his car. Whenever he drives past a graveyard he throws a flower out the window, just like Danny does. And if the bouquet dies before he gets to give them away, he gives them to Danny, and he buries them in the backyard.

Green eyed and sad. Sometimes Jason joins him, sometimes Damian does. Dick never feels like it's his place.

This fic also has to do with the cult thing I was talking about sometime ago, and the post about big cities. I kinda regret having this take place in Gotham instead of Amity, but it's too late now (⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠)

Asks and interactions are always welcome !

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Doing Time 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, threats, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you try to keep your brother safe in jail but put yourself in danger along the way.

Characters: con/ex-con!Steve Rogers

Note: I need the weekend to come so I can cum

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

"Things aren't too bad. Not since I got my ass kicked," Vaughn chortles. "Mighta knocked some sense into this thick skull at last."

"Hopefully," you agree. "Mom said--"

"I tried calling. She didn't pick up."

"Oh..."

"Why-- Why should I even bother?" His humour fades to hostility, "and why are you acting like you're my mother? When she does answer, she just calls me a fuck up. Like I don't fucking know."

"Vaughn," you hum, "please, I'm not trying to piss you off."

"But you are," he snarls. "Always gotta ruin a good time, don't ya?"

You frown. This is the Vaughn you don't know. The one with the anger like a grenade pin. One tug and it's over. You sit back and wait. Arguing only fuels the flames.

"You're the one person who's s'posed to believe in me and you're nagging me about mom," he snarls.

You look away guiltily. You wonder how he'd react if you told him about Steve. If you mentioned that the reason things 'aren't too bad' is because you did something just as stupid as him. Somehow, you don't think that him knowing you do dumb stuff too will help.

He tugs at his cuffs. The guards come forward. You say his name again.

"Vaughn, please--"

"Piss off! Yeah, you meat head, get me outta here," he turns his wrath on the guard. "Waste of my time."

"Please, I didn't-- I just--"

"I told you not to talk about it no more," he barks. He did. You didn't listen.

Your eyes well. You don't know what happened to him. Where did all this anger come from? As you watch the guards unhook him and he stomps away, you can only think you may have made a good decision talking to Steve. At least there's someone in there who can help. Or try to.

You wiggle your nose and dab your eyes with your knuckle. That was embarrassing as much as it was scary. The guard on the other side returns.

"We'll bring the next early, miss."

"Thanks," you nod. You recognise him. You realise most of the guards must know your face too. It's so strange to think this is a normal part of your life now. That this has become your social life as late.

It isn't long before Steve appears. He sits calmly lets himself be leashed. He leans forward and takes the receiver. You still have yours in hand but it's against the table. You lift it.

"Couldn't wait to see me, huh?" He purrs.

Your cheeks draw tight, "how are you?"

"Mm," he narrows his eyes as he looks you over. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing, Steve," you swallow the dregs of your tears. "Really. It was an early morning."

He stares a little longer, the lines deepening in his forehead. His eyes meet yours. His aquamarine irises are speckled with gold and silver. He takes a breath and tuts.

"You were crying."

"No, Steve, it's nothing."

"That brat brother of yours," he nods as his expression turns dangerous.

"Please, Steve, not you too. Okay? It's... a sibling spat. That's all," you assure him. You wish you were as transparent as the window between you.

"I don't like that. I had family coming to see me, I'd be nice," he snarls.

"It's not your problem."

"That's where you're wrong, sweetheart. You made it my problem when you started coming around." He insists.

You chew your lip, "I know..."

"I'm not complaining, so you know," he leans back. "Kinda used to ya now."

"Thanks," you utter grimly and stare at the desk.

"Hey," he says and your eyes flick back up. "I didn't drag myself out here to see you mope."

You swallow and push away the rest of your chagrin, "sorry, I... better?"

"How can that face get any better?" He winks. You squirm.

He's been more forward lately. You assure yourself that it's just him playing with you. He's bored and you're the only person he talks to that isn't a guard or an inmate.

"That's... Right. Um, I guess it was dumb to ask how it's going," you scoff at yourself.

"It's going good, now I'm here," he runs his hand over his mouth, feeling his cheeks, "fresh shave this morning. Looking good, huh?"

You let your eyes focus. You can tell. His chiseled jaw is bare, not one speck of stubble. And his blond hair is parted and combed back. It's getting a bit long.

"You look refreshed."

"Well, I got something coming up later today."

"Another visitor?" You wonder.

"Lawyer," he shrugs. "No big thing. I got business on the outside still. Power of attorney or whatever."

"Mm," you hum.

"Boring stuff. What about you? Besides that idiot you call a brother, how's life?"

"It's life," you say. "Go to work, come home, sleep, it's all the same."

"Huh, sounds like being in here," he snorts. "Lonely?"

You don't realise at first, he's asking.

"I guess. Thought about getting a cat."

"Ah, you're young. Probably wait a few years before that," he chirps.

You tilt your head wryly, "no harm starting early."

"You're funny, sweetheart."

"Am I?" You wonder dryly.

"Well, the things they think are funny in here..." he makes a face. "You know, I wouldn't tell a lady all that, but it's low brow."

"Right."

"I'm still trying to figure you out, you know? Your brother, well, not to pile on top but he's not exactly a model citizen, but you, you're practical, considerate, you make stuffed chicken and pesto. I can't help but wonder how you're not adopted," he snickers.

"Life is strange."

"Isn't it? Never saw some girl knocking on my cell door but here we are," he drawls.

"Here we are," you agree. He smiles and bites his thumb. You shift as his eyes sparkle.

"I might never get outta of this place, but at least I can see a pretty face now and again," he growls.

Yep, at least he'll never get out. You just need to hope Vaughn doesn't get any time added and it will all be over soon. 

⛓️‍💥

It's the first night Steve doesn't call. You're a bit disturbed by how it seems to throw the whole evening off. It's not like you're friends. He's an obligation. You should be happy to have one less thing on your plate.

You take a long bath, your phone on the back of the toilet, the ringer set to chirp. But it doesn't. The soak isn't enough to ease your nerves.

If something happened to him, what about Vaughn? It's a selfish worry but you can't help it. How could that even happen? Steve has this invincibility about him. You just can't believe it.

You get out and dry yourself off slowly. You're achy from sitting on your ass all day. Admin work isn't very thrilling. You stretch and rub the cushion of your bottom, the muscles easing beneath the layer of padding. You've always had a bit extra. It never bothered you as much as it bothers men. Your brother used to beat up any guy he heard hurling insults at you.

It's not your biggest care in the world. You tend to eat those away. Your sweet tooth hardly helps.

You put on a night shirt and lay awake for a while. Even when you do sleep, it's not peaceful. You dream of iron bars and blood on the floor. You wake with a thumping in your temples.

You dress for work. Your stretch-waist grey pants and the silk blouse with roses on the collar. You pack your lunch and brew your coffee, honey and a dash of almond milk splashed in. You leave with your bag and thermos.

The traffic around the clinic is always clogged. You get in with two minutes to spare. You sit behind the window and the phone rings as soon as opening hour strikes. You're swept up in the demands of patients and doctors alike. One thing you can't complain for how quickly the days fly.

You eat your lunch in your car. You cherish the moments you're not surrounded by sniffling, coughing, and complaining. You head back in and finish the last half, yawning at the monitor.

It's even busier when you pull out into the street. You let the music flow into your ears and distract you. You tap the pedal as you slog along. Finally, you get to a side street and cut a zig zag across town. You pull up to your building and linger in your car.

You have this eerie feeling. You glance over at the unfamiliar car parked facing the brick. The sleek white muscle car is vintage and polished to a shine. Someone loves that thing.

You get out of your dusty Honda and snatch your bag from the passenger's seat. You tap your fob and enter through the side. You stop before the elevator and turn back. You should at least try to get a few steps in. You take the stairs.

You stare at your pointed flats as you drag your soles over the carpet. You smother a yawn behind your hand. A throat clears. You move over, thinking someone's coming your way. You stir in your bag for your keys. Your name brings your chin up.

You gasp and drop your keys. You teeter as you nearly spin and sprint away. Your bag slips and you barely catch the strap. You gape at Steve as he stands beside your door.

Silence wafts around you with the smell of cooking and laundry. He holds a bouquet of classic red roses. He sports a tailored suit in black that puts his prison uniform to shame. The collar is crisp and the tie perfectly knotted. His jawline is shaved and his hair is styled down to the strand.

"Hey, sweetheart," he greets with a smirk.

You wordlessly bend to pick up your keys then stand and fix your bag on your shoulder. Your eyes glaze in disbelief and horror. A million questions flurry to a storm of terror.

"How..."

"Appeal went through. They turned over my conviction," he struts away from the wall. "These are for you, sweetheart."

You look at the petals then at him as he comes close. Your shoulders sag as you shrink down at the breadth of his shadow. He's even bigger like that. You shudder, the lack of barrier unsettling.

"I got you speechless," he intones and grabs the strap of your bag. "Look like you had a long day, let me take a load off."

He takes your bag then guides your hand to the bouquet. You close your mouth and gulp. He sweeps away your keys and hooks his arm through yours. You let him lead you to the door of your apartment. He swings it open and you flinch.

"Wait, Steve, how did you-- how do you know where I live?" You quaver.

"Told you, I got friends on the outside. You don't think I'd leave you unprotected--"

"Wait, wait," you plead as you face him, untangling your arm from his. "How is this real? How are you here? How- Why-- You don't think--"

"I think I spent months talking to you and you spent the same time coming to me. It's not what I think, it's what I know," he insists. You choke.

If his conviction was flipped, maybe that means he isn't so bad. No, no, you heard of what he did in there. He's dangerous. Whether he did what the court said he didn't or not.

He waves you in, "come on, we can take it slow. We'll talk, like old times."

You shake your head but enter. You see no other choice. You're too stunned to think of any.

He follows and pulls the key free of the door before shutting it. He hangs them on the little hook beside the frame. He faces you as you focus on slipping off your flats. He puts your bag on the top of the small shelf where you store your mitts and whatnot.

He whistles, "you look... good. I mean, I never got the full angle." He steps back and you feel him raking you with his eyes. "Got a nice shape..."

"Steve," you snap and face him. "I... I never..." you pace yourself and take a breath. "The flowers are lovely, thank you. And I appreciate you coming by but I think there's a bit of a miscommunication." You turn and slowly inch away. You spin around as he watches you, his expression betraying nothing. "I only talked to you to keep Vaughn safe."

He sighs and his eyes narrow. His brows tilt slightly and his jaw squares. He nods and smooths the front of his jacket.

"Well, sweetheart, I went and got a new suit for you."

"I'm sorry--"

"No, get this," he strides forward and stops before you. "Whether it was for me, for you, or for that scum you call a brother, it happened and it's not over. You got me? I might be out but I got men inside. Men who are willing to do a lot worse than me," he snarls.

You shudder and he grabs your chin. You whimper. "I wanna be nice to you, sweetheart. That's all I've been dreaming of. I went out, got all dressed up, got you flowers, now you do me a favour, go put a dress on so I can take you out for dinner." He sniffs and squeezes just until your jaw throbs, "see, I'm still doing stuff for you. I'm not asking much except you to come out and look pretty."

He lets go and you stagger back. You sniffle and quickly hide your face. Your voice comes out hoarse, "I'll put these in water first."

Your heart races and you go into the kitchen. You find a vase and focus on filling it. You put the flowers in and toss the paper cone. He looms in the doorway.

"I'll find something to put on, okay?" Your voice cracks.

You cross the kitchen and he stays firmly in your path. He brings his knuckle up under your chin and forces your face up.

"Smile, sweetheart," he growls. "We're together. At last."

[kanmom51]

Chapter 3 in the making

Traveling together to "film a show" was big (yes, this was to film a show, but we all know it was mainly to spend much needed time together, and if we didn't, let's be honest that we did, but if we didn't, then JK literally confirmed this for us in episode 1 of AYS). But back in 2023 when a public Jikook was a scarcity, left us with more question marks than anything else as to how this will actually be coming to fruition.

Enlisting together was HUGE. Like H U G E. Them being the only ones to do so not only within BTS but the first and only idols to do so. A choice made by the two of them. To do this together. With each other. Not with anyone else.

Are You Sure?! Do we need any words here? Like really? Because AYS was as loud as F$@&. No, seriously, idk what you want to call it, a soft launch, a smack in the noggin, whatever you do, it was quite clear to those who have eyes and a brain. With or without knowing who JM and JK are, their history, their culture. Louder to those who do know them.

Since their enlistment and even through Muse and AYS we got practically nothing from the two. Oh, we did have a couple of interesting pics from their basic training and graduation, a few pics from the unit, a shit ton of signatures, some more interesting than others (joint messages, pretty decorations...) and a few nice messages, but mostly silence from the two. This stood out even more so in comparison to the almost barrage we've been getting from NJ and Tae, both enlisted only a day before Jikook.

And then came December. With less than 6 months to go.

JK going live from his new place. Dare I say their new place? It's not like we haven't talked about this over the past 18 months. Speculating, wondering. But man (figure of speech y'all), these last couple of months, they are sure making me feel like what we saw as leaning to the delusional side or more so wishful thinking, ain't no delusion or wish, but more so a very possible reality to come.

But let's get back on track.

So, December gave us:

"We spend our free time together", "we sing together", "we sing while we shower daily together", not to mention JK's btw remark about seeking privacy away from others "to sing".

Then came JM in January with their "conversations before going bed" about "what kind of image we want to show" and "what kind of lives we will live moving forward".

And February rolls in and we think that we will be back to their silent treatment, but JK comes to us with a heartfelt message (they really feel the end and want out). But nothing prepared us for Hobi's birthday live and once again those two with their "we share a room" and "we have stories to tell, but not sure how much we actually can..." that won't scare us off, lol.

Funny how every single hysterical claim made by those who were hit so very hard by their joint enlistment has been shut down by the two of them by now!!

Anyway, do we see a pattern here? Can we call this a pattern? Is there more to come? Well, obviously there is post military service, but seeing as to how they have been in the past couple of months, I'm thinking that we will be getting more even before that.

I'm guessing that conclusion isn't a far fetched one, seeing what we got last night.

And OMG, that was another HUGE loud af Jikook statement.

Ribbon on right: "I love you 🖤"

Ribbon on left: "BTS Park Jimin and Jeon Jungkook".

Yes, a statement.

I stand by that.

Because even if you don't think it's anymore than a cute thing, just another thing that Jikook do together, then you are not seeing the cultural context here.

So, several content producers/directors that were Hybe employees (directors of I am still, AYS and JM's production diary amongst others) have left the company to open their own company (Idk too much about the company they opened, but my guess is that they will continue working with Hybe as contractors rather than employees, but also allowing them to work with other companies and create their own content, including producing a new boy band). And they posted the congratulation they have received.

From Hobi.

Hoshi and Woonhoo of Seventeen.

Each sending a separate wreath.

Zico

And there are wreaths they received from more than one sender. Joint wreaths. But this was from companies (joint ceos), or business partners. Not two separate idols or people.

Now, if you don't see what's huge here, let me show you the K side of this to maybe get some perspective (although, let's be honest, you don't need to be on the K side to see this is a couple thing).

Yes, I wonder the same thing!!!

There is more.

So much more.

The K side of things is literally going mad. Good mad.

And there is a reason they are.

This is most definitley not something friends, as close as they might be, would do. Not friends, not multimillionaire friends. They most definitley can afford two wreaths. And that's one of the points here.

Once again.

This was a choice.

Not to send separate congratulative wreaths. They sure can afford to do so. Even if they aren't on vacation at the moment and are in the base. Seriously, two young men closing in on their 30s, independently financially sufficient and so much more.

Yeah, this most definitley was a statement.

And the frenzy K Jikookers are in at this very moment is well enough proof to that.

Btw, haven't been to the dark side, don't know just how crazy and rabid the cult and antiis are going, but my guess would be...

Anyways, sitting here smile plastered on my face, I'm kind of starting to think, that this is maybe, just maybe, going to become our new normal. Jikook doing couplie things, openly, proudly, unapologetically.

And if this is them even before they are discharged...

What a great time this is going to be.

[delilahsturniolo]

— ୨୧ better than me, huh? . . . c.s

in which . . . chris makes you admit and shows you that he’s the only one who can make you feel good.

warnings . . . smutttt, fwb!chris, use of pet names, fingering, oral, (fem!recieving) kissing, degradation, teasing, dom!chris.

written by @delilahsturniolo. do not copy, steal, or modify my works. if you are taking any inspiration from this, please ask me first before posting and credit me in your description. happy reading! :)

★ chris’s lips crashed against yours abruptly, with desperation, with need. he hovered over you as you laid on your back, the two of you passionately making out on his own bed. chris’s lips muffled your soft whines and moans. “tell me bout’ them other guys, mama.” chris murmured against your lips, his tongue swiping across your bottom lip. his grip on your waist tightened, almost painfully. the kiss was anything but gentle, it was as if he was trying to claim you again.

“tell me, what did they do to you? what did they do that i can’t, hm?” chris teased, his hands roaming your body as his lips began trailing down your body. you just wanted to piss him off for fun. “they were better than you.” you spoke, your voice defiant but also a tiny bit shaky. you saw a flash of jealousy, and even anger in chris’s blue eyes. “oh yeah? better than me, huh? what was so good about hookin’ up with other guys? what’d they do?” chris’s hand palmed your drenched panties, making you squirm with need.

you and chris didn’t have an established relationship, you were just friends who…fucked on the side, and kept everything on the low. you went out to parties, getting with other guys to help you try and forget about chris, to help you get over him and move on. but nothing fucking worked, of course. no one made you feel the way chris did. he knew all your sensitive parts, where and how to touch you, what really turned you on. no one else could do that but chris. and right now, he needed to prove that to you.

“they—mmmh—“ you couldn’t even answer because of how much he was absolutely teasing you, it was tearing you apart. but fuck, he felt so good. you needed him so badly, you just refused to admit that to him. “mm..you ain’t answerin’ me mama.” chris whispered darkly, slowly peeling your laced panties off of you. chris’s thumb pressed against your aroused clit, rubbing tight circles. you moaned in response, a gasp escaping your parted lips. “did they touch you like this, hm?” chris teased, sliding a finger between your folds, his finger playing with your wetness.

“look at you.” chris scoffed. “already so worked up? it’s embarrassing, really.” chris rolled his eyes, sliding another finger into you and beginning to pump both of them in and out of you, his hand immediately went over to your mouth as your moans became louder, more desperate. “y’gonna stop lyin’ to me yet? or am i gonna have to shut you up myself, hm?” chris pulled his fingers out of you, sucking them clean with a loud pop in his mouth. he parted your legs again as you attempted to close them. “fuck…i’m not lying!” you said as chris removed his hand from your mouth.

“yeah? bet you were thinkin’ bout me when those other stupid guys fucked ya, bet you almost moaned my name, didn’t you mama?” chris’s eyes were filled with desire, and his voice was soft with mockery. you couldn’t even admit it, because you knew he was right, you were thinking about him the entire time, it was hard to forget about him. “p—please..” you moaned in desperation. suddenly, chris leaned down, his head in between your legs as his tongue flicked on your clit. you gasped, hearing chris’s muffled voice in between your thighs.

“please what ma? you gonna admit this pussy is mine? that i’m the only one that can make you feel this good? I ain’t givin’ you what you want until you admit it. i got ways to make you talk.” chris kissed your inner thighs, still teasing you. he really wasn’t gonna let you behavior slide. “tell me, cmon…who’s pussy is this?” chris taunted, kissing your swollen clit, making your breath hitch. “y—yours..all yours..” you spoke shakily, chris smirking with satisfaction as you confessed this.

chris flipped you over in one effortless motion, your ass was facing toward him, your head burying in the pillow as he fiddled with his belt, removing his boxers to expose his hard length. his hand went onto your lower back, causing you to arch as he lined his cock up with your entrance. with absolutely no warning, chris slammed into you mercilessly, his hand coming up to the back of your head, pushing it down into the pillos, but not too hard, just to muffle your screams of pleasure.

“mmm, you like that huh? naughty fuckin’ girl…thinkin’ you can go around…messin’ with other guys to try and forget about me? it’s jus’ not possible.” chris thrusted into you, each time going deeper and deeper. “shit—oh my god… chris..” you moaned, turning your head to the side so your face wasn’t directly in the pillow. “yeah? close?” chris asked, knowing damn well you were falling apart. “mhmm..” you whined in response. chris groaned, your pussy felt so fucking good around him, he could do this forever.

“chris…gonna cum…” your mouth remained slightly ajar, chris continued pounding into you, feeling himself getting close as well. “cum f’me love.” chris whispered, leaning down to kiss your lower back. you immediately released upon those words, triggering chris’s release as well. chris pulled out of you, grabbing your waist and turning you over on your back again, looking down at your fucked out expression as he kneeled in between your legs.

“s’pretty like this..” chris mumbled, his hands going on either sides of your head on the sheets trapping you in as his lips delicately pressed against yours once more, silencing your soft whines. his tongue slid into your mouth as your hand tangled up into his hair, trying to taste every bit of him, chris’s hips slightly grinded against you as the both of you made out. chris had to make sure you knew that he was all yours, and you were all his

and chris was absolutely right, no one could make you fall apart the way he did.

© delilahsturniolo do not copy, re use, or modify any of my works.

taglist

[messenger-of-babel]

Could you write about the sweetheart grips? Soldiers in ww2 used to put photos of their lovers on the grips of their guns and I think that would be cute with Jason.

Eye for An Eye

Summary: Jason keeps a photo of you in his gun to keep you close to him, even in his hardest moments. (Jason Todd x reader)

Word Count: 2.7K

Notes: dear anon I really, really wanted to make this sweet. But then I got an angst idea and- I tried to do it justice without too many tears. Forehead kisses for you because as soon as you sent this in I legit thought about this idea for like three days straight I fell in love with the concept. I might use it again for other Jason fics you got me hooked (I was a MASSIVE military history nerd). Warnings for description of violence and injury, character death, some choppy writing. Back onto my angst train, I'm so sorry y'all (I'll write this concept sweeter sometime, I SWEAR).

ALSO HAPPY 100 POSTS. It's crazy when I remember I'm still a baby blog. <3

Enjoy~! RiRi xoxo <3

━━━━━━━━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Bruce had never been one for guns, and while Jason was Robin, he hadn't either.

He didn't consider himself a particularly violent child or had any real craving to use weapons. After all, he never really hit anyone who didn't deserve it, and he got great satisfaction of getting back at people who thought they could hurt innocent civilians just because they were bigger and older than him.

That was until he was taken by Joker and showed just how much hurt someone older and bigger than could inflict.

April 27th, the date that the Joker killed Jason Todd.

Now, he couldn’t imagine his hands without the comforting grip of his pistol. The grips were designed just for him, slotting into the contours of his fingers and worn away in the areas he instinctually rubbed. They were wide so they sat snug in his large palms, with a coarse texture in the areas he habitually flexed. The grip allowed it to stick to his gloves for a steadier shot while it would simply irritate anyone else who tried to hold them.

Everyone knew that those guns were Jasons, but nothing said it quite like the new addition of the faded photo tucked into the grips. The colt's had originally come with wooden handgrips, which were quickly removed while he made his modifications.

"You know the Bat isn't gonna be happy with you getting another set of guns." Dick calls out, approaching his worktable in the cave. Jason just grunts at him over his shoulder, making sure he keeps the screws where he can see them.

"Bruce can honestly suck it up." he huffs, the mention of the Bat souring his demeanour immediately. Jason had wanted to do this in his apartment for this exact same reason. He knew Stephanie would annoy him with questions if she caught sight of him, and that Tim would interject constantly with 'improvements' he deemed necessary. Duke he could deal with, and Cass would leave him well enough alone.

Dick and Damian just managed to piss him off simply existing sometimes.

Mostly when he was already in a bad mood.

His older brother trots down the stairs, a frown forming on his face as he puts his hands on his hips to observe.

"Quiet." Jason mumbles flatly, knowing the older vigilante was giving him a disapproving stare. Dick ignores him, eyeing the photo tucked up near his water bottle.

"Jason," he says, voice a warning tone.

"I said quiet." he cuts off, wiping the area down with a damp cloth. Dick just sighs behind him as Jason gingerly picks up the photo, rubbing his calloused thumbs over it. Dick wants to say something as he eyes the photo but can't bring himself to speak above the block in his chest. He watches the tension ease from his brother’s shoulders, the muscles that had been stiffly held by his ears for weeks. The scowl he wore softened slightly, and he could actually hear him exhale for once instead of wondering if his chest actually was moving or not. Instead, Dick sighs in reluctance, giving in. Dick watches him with sad eyes, clapping a hand on his shoulder with a slight squeeze. "Don't forget to, you know," he leans forward slightly and draws a circle with his finger on a certain point of the photo. Jason's face ripples with a flash of pain, but he watches his younger brother grit his teeth and nod.

"Look after yourself, Jay." he murmurs, pulling back. "Don't do anything stupid."

Jason waits a little bit before turning back the photo, ensuring that Dick had left the cave. A still silence settled over the dim space once more. It didn't help the hum in his head, making his fingers and muscles shake, the white noise refusing to settle in his conscious. He gently drew on the photo of you with pencil, tracing the shape that he needed for the grip and ensuring that you weren't cut out by accident.

It was a favourite photo of his, taken at one of Bruce's galas. He hadn't wanted to go, hardly showing to the events in the first place. "Full of rich idiots trying to get even richer." he had told you, tossing a look over his shoulder to you. You were standing at the door, holding the invite that had been slipped through the mail slot. You waved the thick cardstock, a small smile on your face. "Aw, but I was kinda looking forward to going." you say, looking over the details. "I think it'll be fun."

"The only one who thinks those things are fun are Dick and Steph if she's around. Tim will get bored and probably turn into a loan shark if left unattended too long. So yeah, fun." he grumbled.

"What about Dami?"

Her turns around, eyebrows raised.

"I’m sorry?" he asks. "When did we start calling the demon child, Dami? We're on nickname level now?"

He hates how his heart flutters in his chest when he hears you laugh, melting away his annoyance.

"He's sweet, just a little prickly. like you." you grin, coming to wrap your arms around his neck, pecking him on the lips.

"Yeah, he's sweet to you, he's a little shit to everyone else." he grumbles.

"Sounds like someone else I know." you tease.

He can't help but grin, sighing out through his nose softly. "Fine. we can go." he grumbles, knowing he won’t be able to stay mad at you for long.

The photo he traces was from that night, you tucked into his side. You're staring at the camera with a sparkle in your eye, lips pulled back into a wide grin. You're wearing black to fit the theme of the ball, with red accents, matching him. He’s got his arm around your shoulder, taking the photo with you pressed up against him. He thinks you look stunning, eyes twinkling at him from the page.

He takes the exacto knife and gently runs it over the image, cutting himself out so that he can focus on you. The piece pops free, and he trims the edges. His heart thrums as he slides you onto the handle, fluttering with a tame delight.

"Don't forget to, you know..."

Dick’s voice floats back into his mind, and the corners of his lips twitch downwards once more. Reluctantly he pulls your photo from the handle and reaches for a screwdriver to his left, bringing it above the paper. He feels like he's about to stab you, the way the metal tip hovers above the image smiling back at him.

But he does it, heart clenching with each scrape across your eyes, slowly erasing the twinkle he loved so much. There's something sickening about the feeling of scratching your face out, the gritty sound of the photo tearing and leaving white streaks in its wake making his stomach flip. Finally, it's done, stark white lines blotting out your gaze. All that's left is the upturn of your lips, and the soft smile you wore.

With a heavy sigh Jason slots it back onto the handle, placing the clear protector over you. At least nothing could damage you more than he already had. He told himself it was for the better, as he cleaned his hands on a nearby rag and bit the inside of his cheek. You weren't the most supportive of his guns, but you liked that they kept him safe. You had had a few conversations with him about it but never an argument. He wanted to keep you close, but he knew he wasn't going to be an idiot about it. He wanted to protect you, hide your identity from any eagle-eyed thugs.

"Besides," he thought to himself. "Don't want em seeing what I'm about to do."

Maybe it was for the best that he covered your face for this.

His body hums with adrenaline, still alone in the Batcave. With scarred fingers he screws the cover onto the grip, clear cover sitting flush and keeping your photo secure. Jasons tosses it a few times in his hand, getting used to the feeling of the new colt pistols and making sure you weren't going to shake loose. When he was content, he looked over his shoulder, scanning the shadows for movement.

He knew that Bruce would condemn his actions, he didn’t even need to ask on that front. Dick would be understanding but try to hold him back, and Tim would try to talk him out of it. The only person he felt that silently agreed with him was Damian, the pair of them fostering an unlikely bond in the last few weeks.

Everyone in the manor knew what Jason was thinking.

What Jason was doing spending his nights in the Batcave, the one place he had grown to hate ever since coming back.

What he contemplated as he haunted the halls of the manor, the place he often traded in for the comfort of his downtown apartment.

Everyone knew what Jason was going to do tonight, yet none of them were game enough to say it out loud or stop him.

Therefore, Jason took their silence as compliance because he knew somewhere deep down, they wanted him to do it.

Or was he deluding himself?

He shook the thought from his head, holstering the newly decorated pistol. He was already dressed and strapped for this mission, no turning back now. With heavy hands he donned his helmet, taking a deep breath as he pushed Jason aside to become Red Hood. The air was still, as if the Batcave was filled with spirits watching him in silence as he mounted the bike and pressed the key for the garage door, speeding out.

He was already haunted by too many ghosts.

The streets of Gotham were relatively quiet, the usual alleys he stalked devoid of the thugs he would have expected. It seemed that even the city was holding its breath, civilians tucked safely inside. He knew where he was going.

He had been receiving mocking invites in the mail for the last week, notes attached to crime scenes in a gory fashion just to mock him. So really, it was no surprise when he arrived at Gotham cemetery, parking outside and not even bothering to kill the engine. He wasn’t going to be long anyways.

Just past the cemetery was the crumbling shell of Arkham, ivy covering the brickwork and roof caving in. His boots crushed broken panes of glass as he entered the decaying mental hospital, leaves scattered through the building from wrinkled trees that had cracked through the floors. He slowly made his way to the upper floor, where he had seen the lights.

Instinctually he reached for his gun, and he felt his heart calm sliding his hand over your picture secured into his sweetheart grip. He hadn't felt this anxious fighting in a while, unused to the way that his pulse thudded against his neck or the dryness that crept into his mouth. The corridor felt like it stretched on forever, making his vision swim trying to reach the light at the end.

Candlelight flickered weakly at the end of the hall, luring him in like a moth. As he stepped in he took note of it, hand tightening. Jason knew he was going to play with him, taunt and torture him. The images of you taped up on the peeling walls were enough. Photos that spanned back months, photos of you on dates, at work, in his car, in your apartment, blurry photos of you and him in his bed. His thumb instinctually placed itself over your eyes, despite them already being scratched out.

He didn't need you seeing the messy patchwork of your life.

Jason didn't even mind the photos, knowing the sadist would be doing something like that. What he did mind though were the images of you from three weeks ago, the same images that Dick had refused to let him see, that Tim wiped off the Batcomputer hard drive and Babs had removed from the GCPD database. The ones displaying the blood, the bone, the bruising.

Your eyes, unseeing.

Everything that was so familiar to him, but so foreign on you.

Everything that that one curved piece of metal had caused way back when, stained a dark brown. The same piece of metal that was sitting in the middle of the desk at the centre of the crude shrine, drying with a fresher coat of oxidised red.

He felt his heart rise to his throat, but he wasn’t sure if it was bile in his throat or the taste of blood from his bitten lip. His grip turned white, muscles flexing under the skin and pressing unnaturally hard. He felt the green tinged mania inside him rear its head, threatening to take over his mind and act purely on instinct. The Lazarus pit clawed and pulled at his soul harder that it had in years, gasping at him like a beggar, screaming for a shred of violence to feed it.

He knew the game. He knew all of this was to provoke him, try to get Jason to release the rage inside him. The monster wanted to see him squirm, see him struggle to keep himself in check. He wanted to watch Jason Todd fight against the Red Hood, watch the Bats moral code play out on his face.

Well, Jason wasn't Batman. He wasn't Bruce.

As soon as a skinny figure moved from the shadows to his right, his pistol was out in a flash. His free hand ripped the mask from his face, jaw tight and eyebrows furrowed, but he felt more relaxed than he had been in ages.

He was no Batman. He was Jason Todd.

And Jason was going to do the one thing Bruce had always been too much of a coward to do.

With one crisp bang the clown couldn’t get a single word out before he was splayed on the floor. As Jason stepped over the body he regarded it apathetically, barely biting down the urge to step on it. The bastards’ lips were pulled back in a wide smile, even in death. Maybe he had expected Jason to do this, maybe it was his last hurrah as an asshole, but Jason didn't care.

He didn’t even feel scared at the idea of the aftermath as a retraced his steps out of the abandoned building, mounting his still-running bike.

There hadn't been a single gloat before the gun cracked through the night, not a single joke or pun or taunt to leave the devil’s mouth. Bruce might have entertained it, let him play it out, but not Jason.

For Jason, everything that needed to be said had been said in actions.

The air was strangely cool, devoid of the humidity that nomrally hung in the streets. The city itself seemed to be sighing, taking a breath like the chord holding the city on a leash had been cut. He relished the feeling of it on his skin, the cracks in his suit letting the breeze run across his knuckles and where his mask met his neck. He imagined the cool fingers were you, cradling his face and whispering for him to take a rest, and he let his eyes flutter closed briefly.

 As he hit a red light he took a pause, reaching his hand down to pat where you were, tucked tightly under his hip. He didn't care what the reaction was going to be when he reached the manor, or the screaming match that was likely going to destroy what was left of his relationship with his pseudo father. All that matters is that he had done right by you, that he had done what he wished someone had done for him.

April 17th, the night Jason Todd killed the Joker.

[qwiopty]

TAILS GIJINKA BREAKDOWN!

FINALLY!! i put together some tails gijinka/humanized stuff LOL!! see below for some goodies and an in depth (kind of indulgent) breakdown!!

[for the third image: sonic gijinka design belongs to @noka-exe !! i havent really come up with my own but i like theirs :-) ]

thisss gijinka is packed with headcanons LOL.. beware!! for starters...hes just a little guy!! i took visual inspo from markl (howls moving castle) and simon (gurrenn lagann)!! mostly simon bc i find a lot of similarities between him and tails.. short and unassuming shy boys who are also compassionate and brave!! (isn't it also awesome how simon and tails both have an older brother figure who encourages them to be brave.. 💥💥🤯 and they both have some sort of space opera and id go on but thats spoilers!!) i also went with a prosthetic leg to kind of represent his tail!! i think it could parallel to how tails' tails can act like a mobility aid, and he'd get the opportunity to tinker and repair them too!! it could also possibly correlate to how tails makes something he was picked on and bullied for, his tails, and uses it to his advantage! and again tying in his interest for mechanics and being able to customize and repair it is a concept that i find neat!! (maybe some inspo from fullmetal alchemist.. bahahaha..)

speaking of customization. i also love the idea of him covering them with stickers!! i've already added tails' own emblem on there but this has prompted me to look into adding some more!

(sorry that im singling you out again @tornado1992 LMAO i just loved your input!!) but i also love the hc that tails gets hand me downs from sonic!! for instance his gloves.. ik theyre not directly from sonic but it is such a sweet detail that tails has a rubber band around those oversized gloves to mimic sonic! and tails definitely has the means to make his own fitted gloves yet he still has those bands on in his modern models!! auhgh!! so yes.. lets say the hoodie is so oversized and oozing with swag cause it originally belonged to sonic! :-) maybe tails likes it so much that he designs the cyclone after it!! just some ideas... more depth into his clothes: i drew a lot of inspo from already existing tails-related designs!! the main outfit i draw him in is a large short-sleeve hoodie with some elements pulled from the cyclone and tails' racesuit design from sonic speed simulator! he also has his goggles and shoes from sonic riders, with some slight details added on!! see below for a better look at the outfit LOL

(the pins on his crossbody bag are a fly-type emblem, a mint, and a red star ring! theres also a sonic keychain that i keep forgetting to add/switch out with the fly type emblem LOL)

here's some more doodles from last year with this design!

yes i did make a classic design for him!! his younger hair is more of that nice vintage orange-yellow but as he gets older itll turn amber then maybe gold? i was also thinking he dons some red clothing to reflect his admiration for sonic but later starts implementing his own style with some grays and blues!!

i'll also point out that i lean into more of a space-pilot design instead of the usual aviator pilot!! tbf i was raised on sonic x season 3 which is just a huge space opera.. 😅😅 but i still do love the aviator pilot concept!!

this should be about everything i have to dump about my design!! im not usually this talkative in posts so im a little embarassed to be sharing this at all 💀 but if u read through all of this thank you so much LMFAO im so crazy about him!! if you have any questions or ideas youd like to share id love to hear them!! maybe draw them out too... i may even do a cosmo design update/breakdown!! for fun.. heres the first tails gijinka post i ever posted!!

also shoutout to @corvussio for the incredible detailed comment on my other tails design post!! i know its been ages but i still think about how you took the time to look into each and every detail!! thank you greatly pal!!

[uncle-fruity]

I really want to underline some truth:

I am a better activist and a more energetic and enthusiastic participant in the issues I care about now that I've stopped believing the guilt trippers and have involved myself in activism on my own terms.

I get to decide what I do and do not care deeply about. That's not another person's place to tell me what I think and feel -- especially if it's a complete stranger. I know myself better than they know me.

I get to decide what is too much for me. I set my own boundaries and priorities. Other people might not agree with me, but they can die mad. I'm not their soldier to recruit, and what I do with my time and energy is my business, not theirs.

I know my body and my limitations better than anyone else. The people who truly love me and support me trust me to manage my ups and downs and do not assign a moral status to me when I take care of my needs first. Especially over time, they know that I will be back and ready to help out as soon as I'm able to. When I'm less able to participate, the people who love and support me take care of me and make sure I know they're there for me.

I am no longer doing activism in any real way online. At most, I try to provide some education and some emotional/mental health support. If you look at my Tumblr, you won't see even half of what I deeply care about. Part of that is a growing sense of internet safety, and another part of that is that there is very little I can do online that's going to make a difference. Another part of that is when you post stuff as a reaction or out of a sense of obligation, you're more likely to spread misinformation, especially if you don't take time to verify the information (which can be genuinely difficult if you don't know how to do that). I fell into that trap a fair amount when I was so guilt ridden that I was terrified to be seen as a Bad Person.

Which brings me to this major point: there will always be people who are quick to judge you and quick to make you out as a Bad Person no matter what you do. In someone's mind, you are probably already a Bad Person. Does that actually make you a Bad Person? Does someone else's definition of good and bad line up with yours, and does it matter? Have you considered that the person calling you a bad person might be a bad person by your standards? Who has the right to strictly define morality in the first place? Regardless of the answers to those questions, you don't have to let other people define you. And the guilt trippers are doing substantially more harm to the cause than people who are trying to rest for their emotional and mental health. I don't think that makes them bad people, but it does make them bad at community building, which is a fundamental necessity for activism.

My advice, if you really want to be a good activist, is to kill the part of your brain that tells you you aren't good enough and don't deserve rest until you are. No one can do it all. No one is a perfect activist or a perfect person. You need to have a clear idea of what your priorities are and what your capabilities are. You need to seek community and, as OP originally stated, joy. It's not just you who needs something to fight for or who needs breaks, your community needs it too. If you overwork and constantly retraumatize yourself, you will eventually hit burnout and you will not be able to help at all for much much longer than if you had just taken a break or made time for the good things in life when you first needed to. You also run the risk of creating a culture where no one else feels like they deserve rest and eventually burn themselves out, too. Then where does the movement go when all its activists are too stressed and tired and having a crisis of morality to do the work? The movement goes to die, is where. Sure, being angry is valid and important, but if that's all that's keeping you here, you're going to find that anger is not sustainable and will eventually give way to extreme depression when you realize that anger alone does not fix the many problems of the world. Your anger and guilt will kill a movement so much harder than indulging in a little positivity and rest from time to time.

Oh, and me? Now that I've gotten out of guilt trippy and frankly abusive online activist spaces, I am so much better at doing activism that matters. I organize a queer art group. I attend meetings to discuss problems and try to find solutions. I have more energy to educate myself and others. I can do more direct action. All of this is stuff that I literally had no space for while I was suffering from the burnout those online spaces caused that I now have space for because I decentralized social media in my life and especially in my activism.

Please. For your own sake and for the sake of the causes you care about: take a break. Have a rest. Do something fun. This is me telling you directly that the people guilt tripping you are being inappropriate & rude at best and literally abusive at worst. It is okay to forget them and live your life in ways that serve both yourself and others. They have no power to send you to Hell, I promise.

Sorry about the rant I'm just SO sick of this "we have to be on all the time never look away if you aren't upset about politics and traumatizing yourself watching people die on Twitter you're wrong and complicit and evil" like I know things are fucked and we need to stay angry but we can do that while also taking a minute to crack open a cold one with the boys or have gay sex or get tipsy at the line dance, we HAVE to have joy to remember why the fuck we're refusing to give up in the first place. Fight like hell for your loved ones and then also go home with them to smoke weed and drink sweet tea and make biscuits covered in honey and butter please, please don't deprive yourself of joy, you're allowed to be happy BEFORE the work is done. You're allowed to be happy.

[keferon]

Trailbreaker runs a DnD campaign for the group home and everyone plays a goddamn warforged and uses their transformer name. Trailbreaker and Soundwave decide they can make the whole situation less scary by telling the younger boys to pretend to be their OCs. It works a little but also you've got Three 14 year olds arguing over whether Trailbreaker's name should be Trailbreaker or Trailcutter because he's the DM and didn't technically have a character to "play"

Ravage is obviously their ~mystic guide~ whom they must safetly ferry across dangerous waters.

(Soundwave and Trailbreaker are keeping these kids calm and together by the skin of their goddamn teeth. Shockwave showing up and being interesting enough to distract the younger kids and also kind enough to protect all of them is a gift from God)

I have the distinct image in my head of Trailbreaker and Soundwave under one wing of Shockwave watching with pure exhaustion and relief as the rest of the kids FINALLY go to sleep under the other wing. Because it's been a Rough Few Days. Trailbreaker just bursting into tears while Soundwave hides his face in Ravages damp fluff.

DAMN You remember that post about the black kitten found in a box with even smaller kittens?? That goes like “Imagine you're so small and cold and scared but there's smaller ones that are smaller and colder and more scared.”

This is them.

Soundwave and Trailbreaker would fucking collapse in relief when they realise that the weird fish man they found is not only wants to help but also knows his way around all those fucked up sea monsters that were hunting them. Because. Haha. I feel like if merfolks can go on the ground then at least some of the sea monsters should also be able to do that.

Also it would be really fitting if the kids were calling each other those made-up-for-a-game names. A bunch of 13year olds would literally do that. Even without the apocalypse haha

Bonus points if Soundwave is really suspicious of Shockwave at first because “the fish guy probably just thinks it’s fun to play with little humans.” And also because they all have very fucked up past experience with adults and their number one rule of survival is basically “trust no one but each other”.

[bunni-v1]

Cums all over your smilk headcanons

ANYWAYS wha if reader was just as much of a sensitive doll as he is when bottoming, would he just ignore them 😭

MDNI

Bro don't do that ur gonna stain it........

Anyway, I think that Shadow Milk is surprisingly flexible about sex! Like I said before he's not really in it for himself, what he enjoys is making you come undone. While that CAN mean him being cruel and giving you verbal lashings and being rough, if you're not into it he's not gonna force you.

Yes, he likes pinning you down and making you take it. Yes, he enjoys seeing you squirm and tear up from his sexual torture. Of course, he likes it when you whimper and whine when he calls you a needy slut. But he ONLY enjoys it when you're also into it. If you're not enjoying it, it's not really fun, it's just... gross.

He can feel your discomfort through the bite, you can't hide it from him, and he doesn't like the feeling coursing through his dough.

He loves you after all, and as much as he loathes to admit it, he doesn't want to hurt you. If you need some softer treatment, he can be flexible! No more degrading if you do not like it, he's more than happy to baby you if you like. He'll tease you for being so sensitive, though. Nothing too mean, just cooing at you like a petulant little child.

If you don't like being hit manhandled or tied up, that's okay too. There are other ways to have fun while having sex, roleplaying, cumplay, mutual masturbation, etc.. He'll survive if you're too sensitive to be played with so roughly.

One thing he doesn't compromise on is overstimulation and edging. They're his favorites, and if you're so sensitive it'll just make it easier to get the reaction he wants from you!

I didn't mention this in the first post, but I know for a fact you have an established safe word that he insisted on (believe it or not). He is very aware of the fact that you are not like him, and you are easily hurt in ways that he is not. Because of his kinks and what he indulges in, he needs you to have that safeword so he doesn't end up legitimately hurting you on accident.

He's a secret sweetheart with a soft spot in his dough just for you. He might not show it often, but he will when he needs to.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Besotted 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, virginity loss, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your new neighbour brings intrigue and a bit of danger.

Characters: ex-con!Bucky Barnes

Note: It's hump day, my dudes.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You don’t see Bucky at all the next day. His motorcycle is gone when you leave for work and when you come back. You assume he has his own work to do, or some running around. He did just move in. You try not to take it personally but you are disappointed. 

This is a lot more fun than all those other times. You’re not as stressed, not as insecure. Maybe it’s because you’re not hoping for more. Because you took a page out of Angelique’s book and stopped caring. One way or another, you’re going to get rid of your v-card. It doesn’t have to be special, it just has to happen. 

On your day off, you decide to get rid of the prickly weeds around the front porch. It's the perfect opportunity for you to show off your shortest shorts and blast some tunes while you’re at it. You put on your rose gold headphone and the best of girly pop. 

You smell coffee but don’t see your neighbour. You don’t want to be too obvious. You get down on your knees and pull-on the dollar store gardening gloves. You’re not good at any of this but these damn plants keep scratching your ankles. 

Before long, your alternative motives drift away as you wrestle with roots. You yank free a particularly stubborn weed and send up a cloud of dandelion fluff. You sneeze into the back of the glove. A shadow passes over you and a gentle tap lands on your shoulder. 

You squeak and drop the leaves. You pull off your headphones and twist to look up at Bucky. Your shoulder tingles where he touched. It’s hard to think someone like him can be so soft. 

“I’m headed into town...” he crosses his arms, the cleft in his chin deepening as he mulls his words, “you said you wanted to test out the motorcycle...” 

“Oh really!” You exclaim as you look up at him. You focus on his face, even as you’re innately aware of how close your are to something else. “Oh, Bucky, that’s so awesome. I’ve been so excited for this.” You gather up the compost bag and he offers his hand. He hauls you up to your feet and reluctantly let go. “I’ve been so patient.” 

He hums, “you can’t wear those. You’ll get burned.” 

He looks down at your shorts. You giggle. You pull off your gloves and clutch them together. “I’ll get changed. I have the perfect pants!” 

He just nods. 

“I’ll wait,” he assures and points over his shoulder. 

You grin and spin to rush away, headphones bouncing around your neck. You dump the gloves and bag on the porch and clatter through the door. You stop to wipe the dirt off your knees and strip off your shorts before you get to the bedroom. 

You search out the fake leather leggings with all the fake zippers. The sun won’t be kind but you don’t mind. You slip into them and find a strappy red top with a bandana style cut at the hem. The bejeweled letters across the front read ‘sinful’. It’s cheesy but you love it. 

You find a pair of sunglasses with thick black cat eyes and trade your sandals for leather booties. You hook your purse across your body as you come out with a jangle of your keys. You zip those away with your phone as you come down the stair. 

Your chest jiggles with each step as your upper tummy peeks out beneath the fabric. Bucky looks over and arches a brow. You approach as he takes a helmet from the handlebar. 

“Found a spare,” he offers. 

You take it and thank him. His eyes skitter between you and the bike. You giggle and tap your heels in excitement. You're genuinely amped up for this. 

“It’s so cool!” You say, “oh, will you take a picture of me with the bike?” 

He squints and his cheek dimples. He shrugs, “sure.” 

“Amazing,” you unzip the small crossbody pouch, “here.” 

You unlock your phone, your background a picture of you, Angelique, and another friend, Tracy, your backscreen. You bring up the camera and hand it over. 

“Oh, can I get on or?” You face the motorcycle. 

“Sure, be careful.” 

You put the helmet on and let the straps hang loose. First you pose in front of it and cock your hip. He aims the lens, your flowery blue and purple case looks dainty in his large tattooed hands. Then you cautiously approach. He comes closer and puts his hand under your elbow to help you onto the backseat. You notice the backrest that wasn’t there before and the shining new chrome bolts that hold it on. 

You straddle it as he backs up. You stick your tongue out for another picture. Then you smile and give a peace sign. 

He lowers the phone and nears, offering it to you. You snag his forearm, “and a selfie? Together.” 

He twitches. “I don’t much like pictures.” 

“Just a memory. Promise, I won’t show anyone.” 

He growls and shows his palms, “what... what do you want me to do.” 

“Here, turn,” you direct him, “put your arm around me and get in frame.” 

You flip the camera and extend your arms. He moves stiffly and hovers his arm over your shoulders. He smells like oaky cologne. You smile as he growls at his own reflection in the phone. You lean into him and watch his features calm then snap the photo. 

“So cute,” you exclaim. “That’s my new wallpaper.” You tap on the three dots and quickly replace the pic of you and your girls, “see.” 

“Huh?” He stands straight. 

“Everyone’s going to think I’m so badass. I mean, I’m not, but they’ll think I am,” you chime. “Oh, uh,” the straps tickle your neck as you put your phone away, “Bucky, I’m so dumb. Can you help?” 

You pinch the straps and flick your lashes at him. He exhales again. You stare at the front of his plain black tee. It clings to his muscles and squeezes his thick biceps. He takes the straps and loops one through the metal ring. His fingertips brush your throat and chin. 

He slowly tugs it snug and his hands freeze. He stares at them and his gaze slowly crawls up to your lips. The air turns stolid around you. He winces and puts his hand on the helmet, wiggling it to test it. 

“Good to go,” he drags his hand off and turns his back to you.  

He grabs the other helmet and pulls it on over his hair. He slides on his sunglasses before he straddles the bike in front of you. He grips the handlebars and takes it off the stand, kicking it back as he easily supports the heavy beast of a bike. His strength is felt in the shifting axel. 

“Gotta hang on unless you want road burn,” he says over his shoulder. “Gonna be loud.” 

“I can handle it,” you assure him as you lean in and wrap your arms around his middle.  

You feel his stomach clench. He turns the key then brings his hand back to turn the throttle, making the bike roar. He walks it back and angles it down the street. He gets it rolling then puts his feet up, zipping off through a tunnel of wind. 

You let out a gleeful holler. The rush is unlike anything you felt. Your heart is pumping and your veins are on fire. You hug him tighter and laugh raucously. 

He stops at a sign and plants his boots, “you okay?” He calls over his shoulder. 

“I’m perfect. I’m-- I’m in heaven!” You answer and wiggle in the seat. 

He takes off again. You squeal and cling to him. You watch the smear of the buildings, trees, and pavement. You feel like you’re flying. Not to mention, you’re vibrating. You feel your leggings getting wet. This is more than fun, it’s fucking hot. 

At last, he stops and quiets the beast. You look around the plaza as he kicks down the stand. He waits and signals you off first with the tilt of his head. You get off and he follows. 

“Hope you don’t mind,” he says. “Boring stuff.” 

You look over at the organic shop sign. You laugh, “are you buying gluten free granola?” 

“Something like that,” he almost smiles. Almost. 

“Hang onto that,” he taps the helmet. 

You unloop the straps and hang it from your elbow, “yes--” you have to stop yourself from saying daddy. You’re not sure if it’s a joke or serious at this point. “Sir.” 

He eyes you then scoffs, “alright, then, doll, let’s go.” 

His cheek ticks and he looks away. He turns his back to you quickly and beckons you with his hands. You follow. 

“Doll,” you say. 

“Sorry--” he begins. 

“I like it. It’s cute! Like a Barbie, right?” 

He sniffs and opens the door of the shop, “sure, something like that.” 

Or a sex doll? You think to yourself. You nearly dance through the door. This is an amazing day. 

He enters behind you. You radiate to the rack of plant-based candies. They are all so colourful. He sidles along to the bin of trail mix. He takes a paper bag and dumps a scoop inside. 

“They have any with M&Ms?” You shuffle up next to him. He grunts. “Kidding.” 

“Good food,” he mutters. “Nice place.” 

“I’ve never been before,” you say. “You’re not vegan? That pie I made had real meat?” 

He snorts and shakes his head, “nah, just... try to appreciate the small things, these days.” 

“Right. Well, it’s a really cool place—oh, cookies!” 

You brush by him and snag up a box of the vanilla glazed shortbread. They look delicious. You turn to him and grin as you show him. 

“Small things, right?” You bounce back toward him. 

He stares at you a moment, “yeah.” He nods and folds over the top of the paper bag. “There’s... there’s a bar around the corner.” 

“Oh, a bar?” You chirp. “How about I buy you a round? For the ride?” 

“Mm, I was just gonna run over and deal with... talk to a friend.” He browses as he speaks. “Thought you could wait with the motorcycle.” 

“Oh,” you deflate, “whatever you like.” 

“Or... you can sit for a drink. Won’t be long,” he shrugs. 

“Bucky, I’m all yours. I’ll do whatever you want.” 

He coughs and grabs a loaf of ten grain. 

“One drink,” he grits out. 

👙

You buy your cookies and Bucky his small haul of groceries. He fits it all in his saddle bags as you watch. He comes around and points you around the other side of the plaza. He walks beside you. As you think about how you must look together, you get all fluttery. 

You’re tempted to grab his hand but you don’t want to spoil all your progress. After all, he invited you. And now he’s taking you for a drink. Sort of. 

He holds the door at the bar for you, greeting the bouncer with familiarity. You look around the dim space. It’s just after noon, there’s not too many people there. He points you to a table. 

“What do you drink?” He asks. 

“Do you think they have appletinis?” You ask. He blinks. You laugh at him. “Joking, I’ll have a light beer. Any brand.” 

“Right, doll, coming right up.” 

You sit and watch him go. He talks to the bar tender and points to the table. Then he walks up around the curve of the bar and into the backroom. You narrow your eyes curiously. Huh. 

The bartender pulls a tap and pours the pint. He brings it to you. “Miss.” He retreats as if he’s afraid of you. Before you can even thank him. 

You pull the tall glass close as condensation hazes along the outside. You taste the thin layer of foam. It’s a bit tangy. You peer around listlessly. This isn’t very exciting. 

This isn’t the typical sports bar. There's a pool table and a dartboard but no TVs for the games. There’s leather jackets and skull emblems and a few disarmed guns on wooden plaques. 

There’s a thunk from the back of the bar then the slam of a door. You peer over as Bucky emerges and stops at the bar. Without a word, the bartender pours him a dark glass of liquor. He grabs it and marches over to you. He sits and sighs. 

“Had to hit the restroom,” he says. 

“No worries,” you make yourself drink the beer. Wheaty. 

“You make up your mind?” He asks. 

“Hmm,” you wipe foam from your lip. 

“About the motorcycle. Still want one?” 

“I definitely want one!” You grin. He brushes his fingertips over his knuckles. They’re reddened. Is one of them split? Were they like that before? 

“It’s an investment. Those new ones are... well, if you’re looking for a vintage model, I know some people. I could do any bodywork you need,” he offers. 

“Really? Oh, Bucky, you’re so sweet!” You chime. 

His mouth slants, curving at one corner. He takes a swig of his drink. 

“Not really, doll,” he rests his chin in his hand. “But for you, I’ll try.”