#and they just don't live up to what they could have been

[transgendz]

I live with 2 roommates, one of them has cancer, me and the other one have mono rn. My roommate who has cancer gets a port put in tomorrow to start chemo. The house isn't even clean enough for that yet, because we haven't been able to afford to get all the proper cleaning supplies.

Everyone in the house was disabled before all this, and I've been the main provider for a while. Right now, adding to the shittiness of it all, my check is late, and if it's not in by tomorrow, we won't be able to pay rent on the 1st, which would get us evicted because we don't get a grace period.

We need about $1,300 before the 1st just to get the house clean for her to start chemo and to pay rent. Oh, and the storage unit that is holding all of the stuff I have left from my dead dad is closing, and we need to rent a truck and drive up there and get our stuff before that happens on the 15th.

Proof below but dm for more proof I know there's a lot I've mentioned in this one post but, but also it's less than half of what's actually going on rn so.

$C--PP--V--kofi

More details regarding the gfm below the cut.

The gfm is specifically for my roommate and her needs through treatment, the funds given to it will specifically go towards her needs. My links above are attached bc we need to cover rent now, and even if we tried, we could not use the money on gfm for that due to the 3-5 waiting time. The money on gfm now will be just enough to cover an apot copay and a large shipment of some meal replacement drinks since she's struggling with dramatic weight loss.

[reignpage]

Physics Tutor!Nanami

Conservation of momentum: if it's just us we can remain at a constant

Content: Friday night party, we're nearing the end y'all, mixed content of angst and fluff, a little sexual action but only if you squint Word Count: 3k Guide

“Nanami, seriously, you’re a grown man,” you mutter, a little annoyed. 

This isn’t how you expected to spend to your Friday night, wrangling a six-foot-tall man into his home but your ex-physics tutor came to a frat party and you had actually drank with him. Now you’re facing the consequences. 

Earlier in the night, the sight of Nanami in his cute blue sweater, sitting awkwardly as he eyed the couple making out next to him with disgust, was enough to warrant a heart attack. You had offered to drink with him in the garden, to take care of him so he could let loose. For an hour or two, you drank a couple shots, relishing the cool breeze which kept your head screwed tight as you sat beside him.

Gojo had passed by, wriggling his eyebrows at you and making lewd movements with his hands. That hadn’t gone by unnoticed by Nanami, who grew quiet. You thought maybe he was tired, maybe he wanted to go home, and when you suggested you part ways, he gripped your wrist. 

“No, don’t go with him,” he slurred. 

You didn’t have plans to go with your friend, you were just going to turn in for the night too, but as you looked at the man you’ve been madly in love with for months and saw his ruffled hair, slightly askew glasses, fogging up from the heat his face was producing, and the flush brightening his cheeks, you realised that there was nowhere else you’d rather be. 

So, you stayed, sitting on the garden sofa with him. There were a couple other people loitering around, but none really paid any attention, everyone too immersed in their own conversations and lives to notice the two of you in the corner, thighs pressed together and shoulder brushing once in a while. 

His heat was permeating, tickling your side, and you couldn't help yourself, you leaned in close, the alcohol in your system made it so effortless to just let his gravitation pull bring you closer. If he noticed, he didn't say a thing.

You made small talk, discussing lectures and assignments. It was easy to talk to Nanami; other people were always so eager to prove themselves academically superior, never really listening to what you had to say, but rather looking for weak points to attack. It was never a conversation and instead a battlefield. And when you complained to your friends, they never seemed to understand.

With him, however, he listened more than he talked. Always. He hummed and nodded, mulling and considering your words carefully like what you had to say was just as important as anything an esteemed lecturer was teaching. With him, you felt like equals. Which was insane because he was Nanami Kento, and you were just the girl he had to tutor.

"I hate that bald Professor!" You groaned. "He's so boring."

He chuckled, adjusting his glasses. "He is rather monotonous, I must admit. You aren't the first student to complain and likely will not be the last."

"Yeah, I bet. But I honestly just don't think he should be a lecturer. I'd probably be a better one than him."

Meeting your gaze, you see the crinkle in the corners of his eyes, the way they soften as they roam your face, stopping by your smile. His fingers twitch on the empty shot glass, skimming the rim just a little before he affirms, "I have no doubts you would be; I can't imagine anyone finding you boring."

Passing each other shot glasses, you'd sip and chat. Nothing about the elephant in the room, not about your confessions, about the odd tension permeating the relationship, certainly not about why he showed up to the party, or why he had become flirtatious. Perhaps it was cowardice that held you both back. Maybe it was the enjoyment of simply existing beside each other, not as classmates, not as tutor and student, and not as two people whose feelings have gotten all tied up.

But as just Nanami and y/n.

Eventually, you both ceased your chattering. Settling to watch the other partygoers or the stars twinkling. Once in a while, he'd point to a star and tell you about its story, and you'd sit entranced by his voice --it's so steady, so smooth and clear, you could listen to it for hours. And when he talked to you of astronomy and gravity and quantum mechanics and the probability of time travel, you thought he should be a lecturer. You'd attend every class, every seminar, and never complain.

"How do you know so much about stars? We don't get taught about constellations."

He lifted one shoulder. "I work at the Eden Observatory part-time."

It was so quintessentially Nanami you didn't question it even though you were bursting to ask. He would have given you all the answers you sought, you're sure by the way he gazes at you expectantly.

Silence passed by, comfortable and soothing. You had no idea what time it was, didn’t care enough to reach forward to get your phone from the table, and neither did Nanami. You thought maybe he was nodding off but when you peered up at him, he was looking down. 

At your hand. 

“C-can I hold it?” 

His voice was gravelly, a hesitation that you’d never heard from him. The way he was gazing down at your hand, limp on your lap, like it was precious, like it was made of glass, and he could be beheaded for daring to even look, made your stomach feel weird. It was the very feeling you had been trying to bury for weeks. 

It was dangerous. You’d been working so hard to walk away and he was erasing the line, stretching out his arms to invite you back over. Unwise was what letting him do as he pleased would be, and yet, you found yourself nodding. And when his own hands, warm and large, wrapped around one of yours, you couldn’t fight back the shiver that ran through you. 

He was holding you so softly, in a way no one ever has, and you could only gulp. It was as if you had entered enemy territory, foreign and riddled with land mines that could go off and blow everything up if you so as much as made the wrong step. When his thumb grazed your knuckles, your heart skipped a beat. 

“Nanami,” you began but his hand squeezed yours and you shut up.

Your ex-physics tutor was still staring at your hand, marvelling at the soft skin, his glasses slide down his nose just a little bit, and you had to push it up with your free hand. That caught his attention, as if remembering there was a person attached to the hand he was holding so carefully. 

Clearing his throat, he shook his head, clearly trying to get his bearings. “Y/n, please rethink your decision to drop out.”

“I can’t.” You pulled your hand out of his like it burned. And then you looked away, crossing your arms so you wouldn’t be tempted. “This is for the best.”

“No. You were doing so well, even Professor Yaga had said so.”

With a sigh, you turned back to him, finding his blush endearing. The longer you stared the more it threatened your defences. You couldn’t let him talk you out of it, your sister you could fight off, even Gojo, but not Nanami. Not when every word that came out of his mouth sounded like the Gospel, like undeniable, irrefutable facts. 

Standing, you brushed invisible dust off your skirt and looked anywhere but at him. Unsteady, you asserted, “Nanami, I’ll take you back.”

He shook his head, strands of his hair falling over his forehead, obscuring his vision. You brushed them off, so lush under your palm, and he looked up at you like you were an angel -- mouth slightly parted, he blew air in the space between you, eyes slightly glossy as he watched you. 

“You’re so beautiful, you know?” He whispered, and then added, his brows furrowing, softening his gaze even further, “It hurts to look at you.”

You staggered back, arms falling to your sides as you gaped at him. You didn’t understand what that meant, what he was trying to say, nor why your heart was clenching so painfully, like someone had reached in and squeezed. 

“Maybe you can get your roommate to take you,” you whispered breathlessly.

Nanami shook his head once more, standing up too. His trousers were all crinkled and when he got to his feet he swayed slightly. You rushed over to his side, letting him lean against you. He was heavy, even as he carried most of his weight, and he smelled amazing. Clean, fresh and sweet. It reminded you of a bakery, just after closing, with the scent of butter and vanilla lingering in the air. 

“No, Haibara’s with his sister.” 

You both began walking, ignoring the staring and whistling people were throwing at you as they noticed both of your existence then. Some girls pointed to Nanami, no doubt recognising him from the List. They whispered amongst themselves, blushing and roving his body. You urged him to walk faster.

“Hey, hey, where are you two lovebirds going?” An irritating voice shouted. “You know my rules about fucking in the house. You have to pay a fee.”

Rolling your eyes, you informed him, “I’m taking Nanami home, he’s a little out of it.”

Gojo scanned your ex-tutor’s face, really looking at him and realising you were right. Suddenly, his grin dropped, and he was nodding to the front door. “Alright, I’ll drive. You seem out of it too.”

And just before you all left through the front door, he yelled to his deputy, “Don’t let the place burn down, it's a pain to deal with.”

The car ride to Nanami’s place passed in another relative silence, both of you in the back as you strapped him in, and your friend hummed to the songs on the radio, drumming his fingers. As obnoxious as Gojo could be, there were these rare moments of maturity and wisdom that people didn't see. But you did. You and Suguru, and these were the very moments that reminded you, no matter what, you would always find a home with him.

Parked, you unbuckled your seatbelt, reaching over the slightly light-headed man and unbuckled him too. His hand brushed your hair, gently, always so gentle. You refused to look at him.

“Let me know if you need a ride back,” Gojo threw at you, going on his phone as you fought to get your ex-tutor out, ignoring the glares you were directing towards him. His helpfulness had reached its max, clearly.

“No, she’s staying with me,” Nanami croaked. He slammed the door a little harder than necessary and you winced. Pointing a finger at Gojo through the rolled down window, he slurred, “You can go.”

Not taking any offence whatsoever, the frat president grinned and winked at you. “Alright, have fun, babes. Wrap it before you tap it. Or not. I'm pretty ready to be a fun uncle.”

And then he was driving off, leaving you crumpling under the weight of your responsibility with your jaw on the floor. That prick. Oh, you were so going to make him pay. 

By some miracle, you made it up to his floor with Nanami's jumbled directions, and now here you are, muttering irritated complaints about how clumsy this grown man is despite his age and wisdom.

“Seriously? Nanami, I told you to get it before we reach your door!”

You’re watching Nanami dig through his pockets for his keys, pink tinting the tip of his ears, either with embarrassment or with the warmth of the alcohol. He’s fumbling, muttering curses under his breath as he struggles, clumsy fingers catching on each other. You groan and swat his hands away, trying to get a feel for his keys through his trousers instead. 

This is not your first time dealing with drunk men. But it is your first time with a man as adorable as he is, unfortunately.

“Are you mad at me?”

Glancing up, you look at him, exasperated and unprepared for the pout on his face. His glasses are slanted again, and you have no free hands to push them back up — one hand is already holding him up and the other is buried in his pocket searching for his keys and trying to get past the lip balm in there. 

"No, Nanami. I'm not mad, I'm just disappointed." You hate that you sound just like your mother, but someone has to be the responsible one. You just never thought it'd ever be you.

He winces. “Please, be careful.”

“Sorry, did I hurt you?”

Nanami flushes harder, the tips of his ears matching and he avoids eye contact, stilling your wrist with a firm hand. “No, you didn’t. It’s just…”

You follow his gaze, both of you looking down and seeing something that shouldn’t be happening. You blink, cartoon character style. This is so very bad. 

Taking a deep breath, you pull the keys out and mutter weakly, “Found it.”

Once you’re inside, you pull Nanami with you, eyeing his place and appreciating the cleanliness; your place is not nearly as tidy as his. But you do see a messy arrangement of papers on his table. You can imagine a busy Nanami, sitting on the sofa, going over the papers and reading out loud under his breath. You smile.

“Alright, big guy. Where’s your room?”

“Buy me dinner first,” he chuckles to himself. He slumps down on the sofa, the leather creaking under his weight and he shrugs off his sweater, the shirt underneath riding up to reveal his abs. You look away. 

Oh, so the man has jokes. 

You’re fighting the urge to walk away and with a shaky breath, full of frustration, you very calmly say, “Nanami, it’s late, sweetheart. You’re going to need to go to bed, okay?”

Then he’s smiling up at you, a gummy smile that’s so dopey you can’t help but smile with him. 

“I like that.” He tilts his head at you. “I like when you call me sweetheart. Do it again.”

Counting to ten, you try again, “Okay, Nanami. I’ll call you sweetheart when you get in bed. It’s a reward.”

He mouths it back, tasting the word and that seems to resonate with him. Raising a hand out, he’s urging you to help him up and so you step forward, ready to bear his weight again, but then you’re being yanked down, and the world turns upside down. 

Nanami’s pinned you to the sofa, leaning over you with a fierce look in his eyes. Gone is the nerdy lightweight, and in his place is the man you’ve caught glimpses of. The one that furrows his brown in a stern scolding, that scribbles frantically on his papers and argues with the professors. Suddenly, he no longer looks his age and instead, appears not as a clumsy college student, but rather as a man. 

The kind of man that could command the attention of an entire room. 

“You did this to me,” he gestures to his hard on, the very same one you’ve been avoiding staring too long at. “Take responsibility, won’t you, darling?”

You choke on your own saliva. What the fuck?

Shaking your head, you remind yourself, he’s drunk, you’re no longer his student, and you’ve been a pain in his ass the entire time. Don’t take anything he says whilst under the influence to heart. It’s just chemicals in his brain. Just a biological urge. It means nothing. 

“Nanami, you’re drunk, let’s drink some water, okay?”

“Four shots is barely anything. I might be a lightweight, but I’m tipsy at most,” he scoffs. Leaning down, he grazes your cheek with his nose, inhaling deep with a groan. “You always smell so good.”

He might claim to be sober enough, but you’re not convinced. Sure, you can’t deny that you want him, but you don’t want him like this; you don’t want to be wanted because the alcohol has clouded his judgment. You want to be seen, as you are and not just another warm body to pass the time. 

Slowly, gently and with as much patience as you can muster, you nudge his head from your neck, and say, “You need to let me go, Nanami.”

“No.”

“Nanami.”

“I don’t want you to leave me.” That gravelly voice is back, the one weighed down by some inner turmoil you aren’t privy to, and you can only bite your lip when he presses a tender kiss at the crook of your neck. “I want you any way you’ll let me.”

You’re tearing up. It might be because he’s whispering it right by your ear or because his words sound so sincere, but you feel your bottom lip quiver. This isn’t how the night was supposed to go; you wanted to let loose and forget everything by partying life away, but now you’re practically cuddling with your physics tutor. Ex physics tutor.

Despite being a little out of it and shaking with some unknown emotion, he isn’t suffocating you with his weight. He’s holding himself up in a plank, inhaling your scent and fighting off your weak pushes. 

“Please, Nanami. Let’s talk about this tomorrow, okay?”

“You promise?” He lifts his head, lashes fluttering as he searches your features for any hint of deception. “You’re not going to avoid me?”

You shake your head, and he sighs, smiling. 

“Good, because I really don’t like it when you do that.”

And then he’s pushing off. A cool breeze brushes past you and you’re shivering from the sudden loss of warmth. Nanami disappears into a room you’re assuming is his and you go to the kitchen to get a glass of water. When you enter his room, he’s only in his boxers, climbing into bed. 

He lifts the cover up and pats the empty space beside him, grumbling, “Come on, I’m cold.”

You sigh, ripping the cover from his hands and tuck him in. “No, Nanami. I’m not sleeping with you. I’m going now so I'll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Almost breaking out into laughter at the scowl that graces his face, you have to distract yourself by pulling his glasses off and folding them onto his bedside table. Like this, he looks so youthful. No longer frowning over data variables or anomalistic lab results, he’s just lying peacefully. 

"You aren't better off taking a different course. You work well under my tutelage. Grant me the opportunity to change your mind about everything. Let me show you I didn't mean the things I said," he pleads, eyes flutterings shut.

Hesitant, you say, "I'm not sure that's such a good idea, Nanami."

"Just one chance, y/n. Don't cross this off simply because we reached a bump. You trusted my guidance before, trust me now."

You don't know what exactly he's referring to and you're too scared to ask. All you can do is watch sincerity, a raw kind of pleading, swirl in his vibrant eyes. He has you in his palms and he doesn't even realise.

"Okay."

He’s fast asleep when you leave. 

You don’t bother Gojo for a ride back to your home, you texted him your sister's picking you up. She might be asleep by now but you'll wake her up anyways, so you can tell her about everything that's happened and ask for her two cents, because you think Nanami practically confessed his feelings for you. But that doesn’t make sense with all that’s unfolded, right?

How could he possibly like a girl like you?

You’re loud, boisterous, air-headed, and not the kind of girl one takes home to their mother. He deserves a girl that’s as smart, as put together, and mature and wise as he is. Deserves one that hasn’t been tainted by bad decision and nightmares.

Sighing again — you’ve been doing a lot of that lately — you walk home, in the dark, fighting the urge to look back. And as the night’s chill prick your skin, you wonder how Nanami will feel in the morning. 

Embarrassment, shame, humiliation?

Whatever it’ll be, you just hope it isn’t regret. 

You have enough of that for the both of you.

[thewickedbohemian]

Spontaneous: An Explosive Love Story; me and my little sister watched it on a plane once because we thought it was what the first two acts made it seem like it was going to be, basically the kind of story that could have been an episode of The X-Files or any of the procedurals it inspired (I don't think any of them have really tackled spontaneous combustion proper though) but feature-length and from the POV of students at the small-town high school where this is all going down (including two that fall in love) instead of the people investigating. Then after a twist that I'm not gonna spoil in case somebody still wants to see this movie, the third act does have something kinda-sorta amounting to heroes saving the day it's just we never know why this was happening and everyone who survives basically ends up in the same place they would have been in their lives if the events of the movie had never happened and it's all okay because I guess an Aesop about living in the moment is something worth sacrificing plot resolution for

What would you guys consider the worst movie you've ever seen? Not something that's fun to make fun of, nothing you ironically enjoyed, I mean just an absolutely miserable moviegoing experience that you paid for, hated every second, and wish you had walked out of and asked for a refund.

For me, no joke, Madagascar 3: Europe's Most Wanted. It did not even feel like a real movie to me. It made me see red! I was SEETHING with anger and annoyance throughout the entire thing, and I cannot for the life of me articulate why. I saw it once in 2012 when I was 15, I remember almost nothing about it now, but it struck a nerve with me like no other movie ever has before or since.

Tell me in the tags, which movie makes you disproportionately angry just thinking about it?

[bunny-jpeg]

wife

mark webber

tags: smut/pwp, age gap (20s/47), wife kink, height difference, breeding kink, wife!reader, summertime fic, verbal worship

a/n: do you have baby fever? you do now! *flashbangs*

kimi raikkonen ver. - sebastian vettel ver. - jenson button ver.

while summer wasn't your favourite season you were happy at the very least that there had been a fair bit of sun. your little pet project had become helping your husband out in the garden behind the house you lived in. you had been mostly taking online summer courses for your degree prior to this year, but now that your degree was finally done you were a little more helpful outside. plus, you were never going to say no to be away from your desk.

you suggested to mark, that you start looking for a 'big girl job' and your loving, older husband simply patted you on the head and said, "take the summer off, you deserve a break!"

but you had a different idea of what break meant. you thought it was going to be a few months until the weather cooled down while mark through the break would end once your first child started primary school.

mark's hand grazed your lower back as he leaned in towards you while you were bent over giving your attention to the tomato plant. his touch was comforting, yet firm. he remarked with humor, "you take care of them so well. you're like their mother." and then laughed.

"i wouldn't say that, honey." you replied as you were upright once more. your husband wrapped his arms around you and pressed up against you.

something had been filling his mind lately. he was almost in his fifties! he thought it was about time that you two did a little family planning. the world of racing would like another webber and he thought you were the perfect woman to have them.

didn't help that he had been having a reoccurring dream. mrs. webber, happily greeting him with his son at your hip and pregnant with your second child, a daughter. kid looked just like him and you always had dinner ready for your little sprouting family. it itched a part of his brain that mark didn't think was possible. he wanted to see you pregnant with his child.

he placed a hand on your middle. it was already a little softer, but the idea of you with his child made a fire light in him. he held on and kissed your cheek with a gentle affection.

"let's go inside for a bit. too much sun isn't good for you." he said softly, even though the sun was now hidden behind some fluffy white clouds. mark loved how much smaller you felt compared to him. he was close to six foot two so he had to look down at you. especially when you were tucked away at his side.

softer, gentler, younger. near perfect to be the mother to his children. because you weren't going to stop at one, mark might be getting up there in age. but he could still keep up and keep you full.

he loved looking at you. your skin warmed by the sun. you had an old baseball cap of his on that you wore while you gardened, but mark had it off of you while he was shepherding you into the bedroom.

his wide hands on your hips as he got you into the room. he made his size difference known and it turned you on. it was quite the feeling that leapt in your chest. him being domineering as his hands then trailed up under your shirt.

he playfully scolded you, "you need to wear some sunscreen. i don't want to anything about my wife getting a sunburn." then kissed your cheek before the t-shirt was pushed up to just under your breasts. exposing your middle to him.

you soon stood there in your shorts, underwear and socks. your dirty shoes left by the door and your t-shirt thrown to the floor to be washed later. mark licked his lips and cupped your breasts in your bra with fondness. gonna need a bigger size in a few months. he exhaled before he leaned in for a deep kiss. he continued to undress you slowly. fuck, you looked beautiful. pretty breasts, soft curves, all belonged to mark webber. the thought made him hard.

he kissed you before he got his shirt off and kissed you again before he full got undressed. you ended up on the bed and he continued to kiss you deeply.his large hands roamed your beautiful body.

you moaned under his kisses and held onto his shoulders. your short nails dug into the skin for a moment as his kisses grew in passion. with a want in his gut for you. he groaned against in the kiss as his cock throbbed while pressed against your middle.

"fuck honey, i knew i had to have you all to myself. look at you." he said between heavy breaths. he got you on your back, further up the bed and said, "how did i get so lucky?" he got between your legs, "they don't make them like you anymore." he said cheekily as he rubbed his hard cock up against your slick entrance.

you blushed as you felt mark's cock up against you. you replied, "they don't make them like you anymore either."

mark adored you. he was deeply loving and protective. if he was protective now, imagine when you were having his baby?he soon sank into you and he loved the feeling of your pussy wrapped around his aching cock. his slice of paradise. he fit perfectly inside of you, his wife.

"fuck, mark." you groaned as you felt the euphoric state down to your nerves. you didn't think you'd crave sex as much as you did with mark.

he kissed your face with a gentle force. he clutched onto your soft thighs, "honey, you feel so good. i love you, i love you so much. you are the most - fuck - beautiful woman i've ever laid eyes on." his thrusts were steady as he pressed as far as he could inside of you. the two of you were chest to chest.

his cock nudged against your spongy warmth. mark was hefty in the cock department. he was big, but knew you took it beautifully. even under him, letting him take you with no protective. but he was certain that your body was needy for him.

mrs. webber with her two children, playing in the yard while her loving husband tended to your tomato plants. a domestic bliss. mark webber's little family, his pride and joys. mark loved it and maybe when they were in bed. he'd get to feel his wife's curves again.

"you feel amazing, honey. fuck, you're my angel. perfect beyond measure. look at you. all mine. the wife to end all wives." his thrusts grew stronger.

even at his age, he could still keep up. you couldn't even tease him because you would just be lying. more often you tapped out before mark could ever break a sweat.

his pace continued, it was heavier. his movements were more desperate, he needed his cute little wife. he was smart by putting a ring on you. maybe he should've waited till after you graduated before you got married, but you were already putting webber on assignments by accident.

now he could spend all summer making a baby with you. you have that free time, letting him fuck you, make love to you, breed you. the headboard creaked up against the wall while he thrusted up into you. he heavily panted and he kept up the pace. he wanted you deeply, like a throb in his body while he worked your core.

your back arched a little, you held onto the covers for support while mark shifted your hips a little and continued to fuck you at a pace that left you breathless. sweet noises left your lips as he continued to feverishly fuck you. the leap in your heart as the need for more pleasure grew.

"mark."

"yes, honey?" he panted as he held onto you tighter. the race in his soul and the excitement coursed through him.

"i need you." you gasped as the pleasure only mounted in your body. it was near overwhelming, you felt the leap in your pulse and the sweat on your body. to mark it looked painfully erotic. you felt the heightened euphoria, your soul begged for your husband. you knew that mark's main kink was you. you as his wife. you as the mother of his children. he had a thing for your carrying that title. it fit you lovely, just like his cock in you.

as it should be.

you were so close to your orgasm, close to being pushed over the euphoric edge. you panted heavily, he felt amazing against you. you were so needy when mark gave you that pleasure you desired. you could taste it in your throat. the noises got sweeter, pathetic in a beautiful way. you held on tighter to the covers as the feeling only grew in you.

mark shuddered and continued his heavy thrusts. he could feel it as well which only spurred him on to continue his movements. he wanted to make you feel the best you could possibly feel. to pour his love into you, a certain deep devotion that left you yearning for more.

"cum for me, baby. my honey, my wife, cum for me." he groaned as he dug his hands into your hips. with a few more thrusts he finished inside of you.

he kept his pace steady in a post-orgasmic bliss. running on a certain primal instinct as he hiked your hips up further and fucked your pussy. he fucked you through your orgasm as your back arched and you held onto the covers tightly for support. the pleasure consumed you and it left you panting and hot all over.

"beautiful." he slowed his pace to a stop. he leaned in to kiss you on the lips. he pulled out and got you into his arms while he laid next to you in bed. your leg over his hip as you laid facing him. your cheek against his chest. his words were so much softer as he said, "you're the perfect wife. you do everything for me, and i do everything for you."

-

"aw c'mon!" you huffed as you tried to get a better look at the tomato plant. the problem was that there was too much of the plant in your way to check on what you needed to see. the thing had grown like a monster over the early parts of summer!

"honey.. baby." mark said as he picked up your small daughter to see what was troubling you, "why don't you try getting a chair to sit down." he placed a hand on your lower back.

you exhaled, "i'm fine, i'm fine." you were currently four months pregnant with your second child. your daughter, stella, was three now and excited to be a big sister. you were still a stubborn little wife despite mark's guidance to relax.

you rubbed your lower back and looked to your daughter, "next year you'll help daddy and i pick all the tomatoes, right?" then tickled your daughter's middle which made the little girl laugh loudly.

she nodded eagerly and mark kissed her on the top of the head. already a total daddy's girl. you said you had dibs on being your second child's favourite.

mark gave you a small kiss on the cheek and said, "better yet, how about you sit with stelly-belly and i get you both something to drink and i'll check the plants?" his eyes lingered on your round middle, "you're not wonder woman, honey. and before our second peanut is born, why don't you enjoy today?"

you sighed, reluctant. but once you got an armful of your daughter you had no choice but to take a seat. you knew you weren't going to win this fight. you leaned in to kiss him before you headed towards the patio furniture near by.

"hey!" mark said and you looked over. he pointed at you, "not too much sun alright, don't need my girls getting a sunburn today." then winked at you. he smiled. he couldn't be happier, he had everything he needed and so much more <3

[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 5

Chapters 5 and 6 are done! Yippy! Chapter 7 is going to be a slice-of-life type of thing because I don't want to time skip straight to the bats finding out quite yet. Also, did y'all know that Gothamite also means an inhabitant of NYC? Whenever you see me use that just know I mean an inhabitant of Gotham City.

Enjoy!

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 5 >>next

NYC was hell on earth and that’s coming from a Gothamite.

Sure- did a rogue attack 3 times a week, maybe more, in Gotham? Yes. But NYC felt lawless and without rhyme or reason. Every day something was happening, every day a building went down if it wasn’t a whole street, every day a hero would almost run you over while you were just trying to chill in the air.

At least on the third Tuesday of every month, there would be no robberies in Gotham, at least if something happened to the city and Batman wasn’t around the rogues would keep the people safe. Here it seemed to be everyone for themselves, and the rent was heinous for the type of bullshit that went down, in Gotham it was pennies compared to NYC. The constant feeling of being watched didn’t help either it irked at the back of your head every time, only stopping in the safety of your home.

The shadows stopped talking to you as well, you could barely hear them anymore, your theory being that NYC was simply too bright compared to G. City. Visiting Midnight City helped keep you connected to them, it felt somewhat like Gotham. But Darkwing felt too much like Batman, making you paranoid, so you never truly lingered for long. You missed them. Missed the rogues, the garden, the kids, the manor. The house really grew on you.

But you liked it. You liked the chaos, the myriads of heroes, the aliens that kept trying to conquer the world, and you enjoyed how the heroes knew that sometimes the best course of action was to kill the threat.

You were still bitter about how Joker took Jason from you, about how Mr. Wayne hid that from you, so seeing Omni-Man, War Woman, Immortal and so many more deal with clearly deadly threats as they should be dealt with felt nice. They would never let Joker live, the clown wouldn’t have millions of kills, and he wouldn’t have gotten Barbara and Jason.

Of course, you’ve heard rumors that while Batman doesn’t go out of his way to kill, he lets others do the dirty work, everyone in Gotham has. You’ve seen Lois Lane cover some of the bigger, worldwide alien attacks that the Justice League helped with. Batman didn’t seem to have a problem with killing or seriously injuring them. He was either a hypocrite or afraid to lose it once he did kill a human, either way, both were bad options.

So, you put up with it, found yourself a studio apartment owned by an old woman, overlooking the fact that the whole building may have been owned by a gang, and kept on doing your online schooling. Kept on making art, donating to charities and shelters, found yourself a nice job pet sitting, and even did some volunteering at local shelters when they needed an extra hand.

You got better at flying, getting so fast you could go around the globe in 5 minutes. It was fun visiting the places you heard Bruce talk about to the others, Algeria, Argentina, Australia, Austria, Bangladesh, Belgium, Brazil, and China. You were planning on visiting every city in every country with this newfound freedom. It was fun, and Bruce didn’t even notice as you used more and more of your allowance.

Sadly, your moments of peace and happiness always seemed to last for a short while. You were happy with just flying, it opened opportunities you didn’t even think were possible, but you’ve never seen a meta whose ability was only flying, not if they didn’t have wings, and maybe paranoia settled in.

Were you just dreaming? Was this just a really long dream? Were you dead? Would you go off the rocket when or if other powers showed up? What will you do when they do show up? You wanted to be an artist, to paint until your heart gave away. But if people needed help you wouldn’t be able to stay on the sidelines knowing you’re more than capable of lending a hand.

You knew you already had some strength power active- you wouldn’t be able to fly that fast without your skin peeling right off. Maybe it just made your skin stronger? Well, that’s how you ended up in a forest, or deep in a park- you weren’t sure, you flew without thinking, your thoughts and theories eating at you until you had to act.

The tree in front of you had an average-sized trunk, maybe on the smaller side compared to the others around you. You’ve been staring at it for a bit, debating if this really was something you wanted to see if you could do. “Ignorance is bliss” flew through your mind, but the full sayings of these quotes always rang at the back of your head. “Where ignorance is bliss, ‘tis folly to be wise”.

Your fist met the trunk with a small thud, you didn’t feel any pain, nothing was happening, so you bit your lip, closed your eyes tight, and punched the trunk harder. You heard the wood splinter before you saw it, your eyes flying wide open at the sound. The trunk had a dent in the shape of your fist, not quite all the way through. You still felt nothing.

Maybe you shouldn’t have tested out your strength this much, Ivy would have been quite mad at you for destroying so many trees, each one thicker than the last, but you were simply curious and made sure to clean up after yourself. It was weird. If you hit fast enough your arm could go right through quite cleanly, but there was no pain, none at all… Is this how Superman felt?

In your excitement, you didn’t even notice the figure above you, watching your every move or the flying orb camera doing the same. And while the figure kept watching you grow in your powers for a year, watched you help around in small ways, mostly clean up and small muggings, the orb stopped after a few months.

It took a while for you to be able to lift as much as you could now, for the first half of your newfound power you had to break stuff like big rubble down before you could lift them, you still found it amusing how Red Flash stayed quiet about you, but how could he not when you shushed him the first time he tried to tell the others. The man wasn’t about to fuck with Cecil’s worker, even though he might have said a word or two to the old man’s face about child labor.

Despite all that you truly felt happy, fulfilled even. You were doing art, helping people, and despite still working on having friends during the day part, you were glad you left. You were on cloud nine, well, literally more than figuratively. You were flying above the clouds, basking in the sun. Nothing could cloud your life anymore.

…Where did the sun go? Your eyes opened, blissful expression turning into a frown as your eyes caught a dark figure flying just a few paces over you, its eyes glowing, a wide grin showing a full set of teeth, cape billowing behind it.

What. The. Fuck.

Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry @kittzu @plsfckmedxddy @blackhood1229 @nxdxworld @leeiasure @dandelion-delusion

hope I didn't forget anyone 😬

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

⋆⭒˚.⋆ Self-On Kode with Haechan ⋆⭒˚.⋆

idol!Haechan x f!idol!reader

summary: what better way to promote your new music than to do an interview with your boyfriend?! Does he know that? No!

(cw: f!reader, idol!reader)

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

You were grinning widely as you sat in the pink chair. You bowed to the camera introducing yourself with an excited smile, "Hi everybody! I'm so excited to be here today. The staff and I have planned a bit of a prank today."

Your friendship with Haechan had started when you debuted. Haechan was one of the first idols around your age that you felt comfortable with. He was funny, nice, and was a good friend. He gave you a lot of advice on how to handle the long days, how to speak up with your company, and how to take care of yourself when it all got to be too much. And perhaps... taking care of yourself meant indulging in your friendship with Haechan, in private and in public.

The fans had surprisingly been pretty cool about both of you being close. It wasn't very often that fans got to see two idols from different companies have a genuine friendship. They liked seeing the two of you play around backstage, the random mention of each other in YouTube vlogs or lives, and the very few and far between posts you shared of each other.

When the edits evolved from 8 whole minutes of the two of you being the best of friends to the both of you being secretly in love for 11 minutes, maybe, just maybe, you both began to see each other in a new way. Maybe you guys went on a date to test the waters and maybe that date meant that the two of you became something more and maybe this video would be one of the first times you both directly acknowledged your romantic relationship. Well, beyond standard wordy posts that your companies put out to disclose your relationship.

You smile at the camera, "today I will be pranking my boyfriend Haechan. He thinks he's doing this interview with someone else and has no clue its me!"

Finally, on the other side of the wall, enters the set and sits himself in the blue chair, "Hello, I am Haechan from NCT. Today I will be using the screen name Sunshine and I am excited to figure out my partner is. I think I'll figure it out very easily."

On your side of the wall you, cup a hand over your mouth to suppress a giggle, "I'm going to be so annoying!"

"Hey," you type, biting your bottom lip to keep yourself from laughing.

"Oh, it's starting!" you hear Haechan exclaim. You phone vibrates with a message that reads, 'hey.'

"Geez, he's really boring isn't he? Let's make this more exciting!" You laugh, typing back something you don't think you'd ever tell your boyfriend to his face, "wow, I know this is a handsome man I'm talking to. Tell me, are you handsome?"

Haechan flushes in front of the pink wall with his jaw dropped in shock, "w-what?!"

You calm down a bit, not being as bold with your flirtation so that the both of you could progress the conversation. You both make small talk, talking about base level interests. Then comes the home screen exchange. You'd been preparing for this!

Since no one ever really saw your homescreens, you and Haechan had decided to have cute matching backgrounds, a cute couples selfie you'd taken together. What he didn't know, and you didn't tell him because he was so whiny, was that you had changed it. So he sent you an blurred version of his usual background, a picture of the two of you with you biting his cheek and his eyes screwed shut laughing. You knew the picture well, not only because you lived it but also because you had the picture that followed as your own background before you changed it for this interview.

Haechan's phone dropped from his hands, eyes blown wide in shock again. The staff were busy laughing behind the camera while you sat with a smug smile, listening for his reaction. "Is this real? Is this actually your background?" You read the message that had been sent to you.

"Why wouldn't it be?" You message him back.

Haechan doesn't even look at his phone again, he locks his screen and sets it on his thigh. He groans, rubbing his hands through his hair and over his face, "how do you turn someone down nicely?"

You bite your lip when you hear that. Your plan had worked, your precious Haechan was flushed and embarrassed. You type back, "do you know NCT Haechan? He's so talented and funny. I'm a big fan, are you?"

"Yeah, it couldn't be more obvious," Haechan grumbles, staring at the homescreen. He can't look at any of the apps or notifications because he's staring at his own face! A collage of pictures of him-- only him. Pictures of him from his debut to pictures of him from his last performance.

Maybe he was speaking to some kind of comedian, it was some kind of joke that happened to revolve around him. He'd watched some of these interviews before and it never worked out that one person knew who they were texting and the other didn't. This had to be some kind of strange coincidence.

He somehow expertly turned the conversation around, evading your question and changed the conversation into something more lighthearted. Then comes the first Would You Rather. The question: would you rather make a burping sound while farting or farting sound while burping?

You take a second to think, considering the question then finally send your answer, "I think I'd rather make a farting sound while burping."

"Really?" Haechan replies, "why is that? I mean I agree, but I'm curious to hear your reasoning?"

"Tell me yours first," you reply.

"Well mostly I don't want to feel the rumbling feeling of a burp in my butt," Haechan types out.

"He's so gross," you mutter as you read the screen, "he's such a guy." And yet you type out a message, "wow, that's so manly of you.."

Haechan runs his hand through his hair, "how would someone read that and find it attractive?"

Again, he doesn't address your flirting. He maneuvers around it, he doesn't want to be the guy that hurts yours or anyone's feelings, even a stranger's.

By the time the both of you get to the end of the interview having just sent the most recent pictures in your camera roll to each other, Haechan feels a horrible ball of anxiety in the pit of his stomach. You had sent him a picture of a flower from some bush outside and he had sent you a picture of the products that had been used on his face before the interview. (He'd sent the picture to you.) How is he going to handle this?!

He looks up from yet another flirty message with a look of unease, "you guys don't do these things with crazy fans right?"

The staff reassure him that no, they absolutely would not ever do anything to put him or anyone else in harm's way. His partner is just a silly person, a jokester.

You, on the other hand, are a ball of excitement to reveal yourself. The time comes to meet your partner, though you already know yours. You prop yourself on the wall, one hand outstretched against the wall and the other on your hip.

Haechan rounds the corner and sees you. You flip your hair, winking at him with a, "hey, handsome."

He falls to his knees, hand clutched over his heart while he lets out a sigh of relief and a loud exaggerated whine, "how could my own lover do this to me?!"

It takes both you and the staff to calm Haechan down, but you eventually get him to sit in the chair of the high top table and get the frown off his face. He's still pouty of course, and he lets you know so, "how could you do this to me?"

"With the help of my managers, your managers, the production here at Kode... duh," you answer, squeezing his knee beneath the table reassuringly.

"You're so funny," he deadpans, "but seriously, I was so stressed that I was going to have to see a real life crazy person and turn them down while maintaining my safety. Thank goodness it was a real life crazy person I already knew."

You shove his shoulder with a laugh, "so you had no clue who it was?"

"Absolutely no clue," Haechan confirms, "I did think that this was going to be easy at first, but you came on so strong that I had to mostly focus on getting us to have a normal, not flirty conversation. Did you have fun stressing me out, my menace?"

"The best time ever," you nod with a proud smile.

Haechan lets out a breathy laugh, more of a soft exhale of air as he pulls your hand up and pressed a kiss against the back of your hand, "I'm never doing an interview with you ever again."

"You say that now, but you're my biggest fan. Don't you want me to be successful? How can I be successful if even my handsome, sunbaenim boyfriend won't help me?" You tease, looking at him with a look all too innocent to be real.

"Oh right. Please make sure to check out my girlfriend's first solo debut. The music is amazing, her voice sounds like angels singing, the music videos are award winning, the outfits are out of this world and there is nothing like it in all the world. Please support her... or I will have to," Haechan states with a fake smile while looking right into the lens of the camera, letting his smile drop into a pleading face for the ending.

"Yes, please make sure to check out my solo! I appreciate it," you smile at the camera, bowing to show your gratitude. While you fulfill your promoting duties you miss the adoring look on Haechan's face. The way his eyes soften and he looks at you with a calm, serene look of love.

You look at him with a soft smile, "can you forgive me for my prank?"

He tugs you into his side, his arm wrapped around your shoulders, "I can make an exception if you promise this will be the last time you prank me."

"Well, of course," you answer too quickly. A lie, of course.

The conversation between you dwindles down and the two of you take your selfie. You smile brightly at the camera with your head tucked beneath Haechan's chin, Haechan smiles sweetly at the camera with his usual close-lipped smile. It's the first selfie as a romantic couple that anyone will see of the two of you and it makes you slightly nervous, but more than anything you're excited for people to see just a sliver of the dynamic you and Haechan share, the love that's there.

"Thank you to the team at Kode for having us and thank you to the fans in advance for all the love and support. I hope you love it," you smile at the cameras.

The video ends with the screen fading to black, but if fans listen closely, they can hear Haechan reassuring you, "everyone is going to love it, honey. How could they not love anything you do?"

[allfearstofallto]

Yandere! Scaramouche x Fem! Reader

Forced Marriage AU

Scaramouche daydreamed a lot. No. That's not right. Daydreaming was a term that sounded too child-like and whimsical for a man as glaringly harsh and serious as him. Instead, you could say he pondered. Often looking lost in thought, more in his head than he was reality. With how long you'd assumed the man had lived, you supposed he had much to think about. Lots of memories. Lots of remorse. Lots of things to think on that just flooded his mind until he was sucked into his brain.

He pondered most after dinner. In that time where the two of you would sit together in what you once considered an awkward silence, his strange form of quality time, but even you began to find comfort in the fact that there was nothing to say. Scaramouche also had lower expectations of you at this time, seeing as he wanted you to do nothing more than sit and pass the time with him. Those sharp blue eyes that would wordlessly express their displeasure in you, no longer casted judgemental gazes. Instead, they pondered.

“Do you think you would've fallen in love with me under normal circumstances?” He asked one day, voice barely audible over the silence of the room. He'd never spoken to you during this time before and had it not been for the fact that the two of you were completely alone in his office, you would've thought he was talking to someone else. But sure enough, when you looked up, his eyes were upon you, waiting for your answer. An answer you didn't have.

It was something you'd never thought of before. All you felt for him, from the day you first met him up until this very moment, was hatred. But he was attractive. Although, he knew that, often mentioning the fact that he was designed to be beautiful. Not handsome, but beautiful. Effeminate in his looks, graceful in the way he moved, soft cheeks and long lashes. Scaramouche was aware of his breathtaking beauty, but that wasn't what he was asking you. He wanted to know what your heart felt.

“Possibly,” you finally said. Whether or not that was the truth was debatable. You supposed anything could happen, but hindsight is 20/20. Choices had already been made, words already said that could never be taken back, actions that could never be undone.

“Do you think you could fall in love with me now?”

He noticed your scoff and raised eyebrows, an expression on his face that's you'd never seen before. Was it surprise? Pain? It looked more akin to agony, but he schooled his expression back to normal just as quickly as it'd changed.

“I'll take your response as answer enough,” he spat those words with a sharp, bitter tone. Enough venom in his voice to make you believe that he was prepared to punish you, but he continued speaking, “Do you feel anything for me now? Anything good?”

There was this sense of longing to his words. A pleading for you to say what he wanted to hear. And maybe it was just the Stockholm syndrome finally kicking in or a genuine sense of affection for the man, but you felt inclined to say something nice. A gentle tug at the weary strings of your heart, desire to comfort him despite all that he'd done. You'd thought yourself mad for how the irrational part of you was wanting to respond.

“I don't hate you as much as you think I do,” was your answer, a compromise between the rational and irrational.

There was a silence. A deafening one. As he pondered again, thinking on your words like he was testing the way they felt in his brain. Then he nodded. A triumphant nod, or at least as triumphant as his usual snarky expression would allow.

“I suppose, I can live with that,”

[dualityvn]

Keith would turn to hypnosis or brainwashing to make us love him if he’s fully snapped…?

Could I maybe please request a drabble about that por favor 🥹

Sweet Vacation

CW: kidnapping, brainwashing, fork harassment

Word count: 1345

You ignored the first signs that Keith wasn’t doing well mentally. When he’d turn his back to you at night and sob silently, you’d pretend not to hear it. When he’d spend his evenings staring out the window for hours on end, eyes glazed over, you’d find things to busy yourself with. 

It did annoy you when he put a tracker on you. The fight that followed only made things worse. He became constantly paranoid, asking to hear your voice every hour you weren’t home, having breakdowns when you so much as left the room he was in. 

There was no doubt that he wouldn’t accept it if you tried to break up with him. You never bothered to start the conversation. You simply packed your things one day, blocked his number and left. 

Unfortunately, he’d used more than one tracker. 

- - -

You awaken to an unfamiliar hardwood floor, head pounding and limbs stiff. So stiff, in fact, that you aren’t able to move them. Your eyes shoot open as you tug on the ropes tying your limbs to the chair you're sitting in. 

The room you’re in is unfamiliar, a lavish living room with wooden walls and a large fireplace. A sweet, mind-numbing fragrance catches your attention. Possibly, the herbs burning in a bowl on the coffee table before you. All the curtains are drawn, so you fail to see anything outside. You can’t remember how or when you got here. 

The sound of footsteps approaching brings your attention to the closed door. Keith appears from behind it, looking much more frazzled and unkept than usual. His hair is a bit messy, he’s not wearing the usual concealer under his eyes and his collar is askew. 

“My love! You're awake!” He rushes over to you. 

“Keith! What the hell did you do to me? Where am I?!” 

He shushes you as he caresses your cheek. You want to scream at him, fight against your restraints, yank yourself away from his touch. But for some reason, as soon as those thoughts enter your mind, they fade away. 

“Everything's alright, dear. You're safe now. I'm sorry about the ropes, but there was no other way. I'll take them off once they're not needed anymore.” 

There is nothing sane in his gaze. His eyes are big and alert and his smile is too wide for comfort. 

“Where are we?” you ask, much calmer than you'd like. 

“Somewhere where nobody will bother us! Don't worry, it's just the two of us.” 

You don't know what he's done to you, but your fear, anger and alarm are all much too mild. 

“Oh! I've made you lunch! Let me grab it for you before it gets cold.” 

He rushes off through the door, then returns with a plate of food and a fork. The sight and smell of it makes your stomach grumble. For how long were you out? 

“I hope you like it! Open wide!” Keith holds some of it out in front of you. 

Thoughts of turning away or refusing the food pass through your mind, then leave just as fast. You reluctantly open your mouth. 

Even when he's crazy, he manages to make infuriatingly good food. You do not complain about being fed the entire plate. If you want to try to get out of this situation, you'll need the energy anyway.

“You ate everything! Good job!” he praises you cheerfully. 

Then, he looks down at the fork in his hand. His eyes flicker between it and your mouth for a moment. Until they eventually settle on you as he brings the fork near his face and licks the part that's been in your mouth. Once his tongue reaches the tips of the tines, he sticks them entirely in his mouth. 

You stare at him, dumbfounded. Before you can say anything about it, he sets the fork back on the plate and turns to leave. 

“I'll bring you a glass of water! Can't let you get dehydrated!” 

What the hell was that? How far gone is he? 

You finally get your brain to cooperate and attempt to struggle against your bindings. Unfortunately, they're tight and secure. Looking around, you can't spot anything sharp enough to cut them. 

When Keith returns, he's brought back not only your glass of water but also a small satchel. You eye it curiously as he helps you drink. 

And once it's done, he sets down the glass and opens up the satchel. It's full of herbs, some of which he places in the bowl with the others. That mind number scent hits you again. Any thought you'd had of escaping is beginning to blur.

As if reading your thoughts, Keith answers. “Just a little something to help you relax! I know you're probably quite stressed.” 

He puts the satchel away and picks up a book instead. “How about I read you something? That way you won't be bored!” 

You want to say no, you want to reason with him, ask him to let you go, convince him none of this is necessary. But none of it leaves your lips. 

“Okay,” you say instead. 

- - -

It's been two days since Keith locked you up in this house. He's fed you and kept you hydrated. When he's not been taking care of you, he's been keeping you entertained or simply chatted with you. 

Perhaps it's your fault you've ended up this way. You ignored the signs that he wasn't doing well. You weren't a very good partner overall. 

This morning he made you heart shaped pancakes with strawberries. It was kind of cute. 

Perhaps you don't need to escape, perhaps he will snap back to reality and release you himself. The two of you aren't good for each other. 

- - -

Four days have passed since Keith brought you here. He untied you from the chair but kept your wrist handcuffed to his to make sure you don't run away. 

It's a pretty nice vacation home. Apparently you're in the mountains. The view from the balcony is stunning. Although it gave you a bit of a fright when you woke up here four days ago, it isn't so bad. 

Keith still insists that you let him prepare meals, despite you being able to help now. You can't believe you treated him so coldly before. When he discovered you had bruises on your wrists from the rope, he cried and kissed them better. 

At night, when you get ready for bed, he asks if he can cuddle you. If you say no, he keeps his distance. When you do give him permission, he holds you tight and whispers that he loves you. He smells sweet, a bit like burnt herbs. 

- - -

It's been a week since the start of your little vacation. You took a walk through the forest this morning, hand in hand with your beloved boyfriend. He told you about the plants that grow here and which ones are safe to eat. He's so smart! 

When you got back, you made lunch together. He’s been a bit down and anxious the past few days, but today he was in good spirits. Though he still won't tell you where he got the new perfume he's been wearing. It's so sweet, it makes you want to hold him close constantly. 

Now that it's evening, you're both sitting on the couch, cuddling as you watch TV. Keith holds you against his chest, his chin resting on the top of your head. You feel safe here. 

“I love you,” you murmur. 

He stiffens at once. Thinking there must be something wrong, you pull away to look at him. A mixture of shock and joy battles on his features. 

“I love you too!” Tears are spilling from his eyes. 

You laugh and cup his face, holding it still so you can kiss away his tears. Your boyfriend is so sentimental. His hand brushes over your chin, silently asking you to lean down. His lips quiver against yours, soft and uncertain. You press in lovingly. 

Even the taste of his lips is sweet.

[spiderb00bs]

- Lying To Me, Lying To You

Tara Carpenter x reader  (request)

"Tara has lied to herself her whole life, and she thinks it's time for it to end” 

Genre – fluff, angst and Smut at the end          

Warnings – smut, and bit of internalized homophobia? 

Now playing – Lied To, by Zayn 

Tara Carpenter hadn't known you in a long time, not so much when she knew her sister, or her friends, or her boyfriend. Tara had known you for six months, six months fucked up with confusion and questioning. Young Carpenter didn't want to, she didn't want to be weird when you were around, saying weird trivia about horror movies to you, just because she couldn't sit still around you. She didn't want to watch every moment of you like a fucking crazy woman, not being able to take her eyes off you when you did the smallest things. And she definitely didn't want to walk away from Chad every time he got close to her. 

Chad was a good boy, he was kind, funny sometimes and he was very good at sports, he was everything a girl would want, right?! He also sided with Tara when all that Ghostface craziness happened. He was a nice guy. So why couldn't Tara love him like she should?

Tara's head was spinning, she was in the corner of the room, having already had more drinks than she could remember, and from that corner, she had the most beautiful view of the whole party, you. Talking to your other friends, you had a plastic cup in your hand. You wore baggy black jeans, and a shirt that fits your body well, Tara is sure she has seen many other people like this, but none of them had ever been as perfect as you. 

Tara wasn't alone, but she had run away from Chad an hour ago, trying to find a way to get away from the boy without hurting him. Tara felt bad, she felt like all the tears she'd held back since she met you were about to overflow. Tara wanted to cry, kick, scream at everyone, her body ached without your touch, and her eyes watered when she remembered all the minutes she couldn't be around you.    Tara wasn't confused, she never was. The denial, everything she convinced herself to live were just consequences of a fear that she had deep in her chest. She knew that what she felt for Amber – Before all the events – were not things that a straight girl felt for her best friend, she had lied practically her entire life. 

But with you, she couldn't contain herself, she was stronger than anything, even Amber. Tara wanted to die every time she saw you walk by, she wanted to die whenever she had to sit next to Chad when you and the rest of her friends hang out together. She wanted to be sitting next to you, she wanted to hold your hand, smell you, hear your laughter, she wanted to be with you.    The taste in Tara's mouth was bitter, and she couldn't really tell if it was because of the cheap drink she had, or because she wasn't in your arms, laughing at whatever stupid thing you were saying to your friends, and being introduced to them as your girlfriend. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Tara saw Chad, probably looking for her in the crowd. Being quick, Tara hurried her steps towards the kitchen, looking back to make sure Chad hadn't seen her, Tara bumped into someone, losing her balance and closing her eyes when she was sure she was going to fall to the floor. When she felt a hand holding her by the waist, Tara was relieved, but not as much as she was when she saw your face.    "YN!" Young Carpenter screamed, hugging you by the shoulders, and with that alone, you could tell she was drunk as fuck. "I was thinking of you."    "I hope good stuff." You said laughing. Tara had this power with you, to make you laugh even when you were anxious, or afraid, in which case, you were worried. "Where are the people? Or Chad?" You asked, looking around. 

"I don't know, I just wanted to be alone for a while." Tara said, if you weren't so worried, you sure would have noticed the way the woman was looking at you.    Tara's eyes sparkled, looking up, watching your entire face carefully and gently, as if you were the eighth wonder of the world, as if you would disappear if she took her eyes off you.    "Well, that's kind of impossible at a party." You said, laughing a little, but stopping when you saw Tara's gaze at you. "Hey, are you okay?"    The genuine concern in your voice made Tara melt, oh man, how much she wanted you so much. Every fiber of her body longed for you, and she was slowly starting to realize how stupid she was for neglecting herself for so long.    "Yes..." 

You didn't trust Tara's answer, something seemed wrong, almost as if she wanted to say something more. Her eyes were bright, but now, they looked more like accumulated tears.    "I think I'd better take you home, you've had too much to drink, Tara." with a nod, Tara followed you to your car, parked in front of the noisy house. She would go to the end of the world if it meant going with you.    In the car, Tara was a little thoughtful, she ran away from a party, ran away from her boyfriend, just to go home with you. She didn't think about anything, she just thought about what she wanted to do at that moment. Looking out the car window, Tara thought of all the possibilities that this night could end in, she could kiss you, she could get out of the car, say goodbye to you and never make contact with you again, until she and Chad got married and she lived a mediocre life with him. But once again, she would be lying to herself. 

You respected Tara's space, but in your head, you were freaking out too. You were with the girl you had a crush on since the day you saw her. You knew Tara was dating, you knew wishing to be with her was wrong, you knew she was straight, and you felt terrible about it.    The drive to Tara's apartment was quiet, thoughtful, and a little awkward, and accompanying Tara to her floor was even worse. Tara was still a little giddy from all the drinks she had, so you were constantly making sure she didn't miss the steps.    "All right, do you have your keys?" You asked, taking the key from Tara's hand as she handed it to you.    Opening the door, you waited for Tara to come in first, closing the door and going to the youngest of the Carpenters, who had thrown herself on the couch. 

“No, no, no. You have to go to your room, if Sam finds out I dumped you here she'll kill me.” You said, trying to pull the girl off the sofa.   

As you tried to pull Tara off the sofa, you were surprised when the short girl used more force and pulled you, making you fall on top of her on the sofa.   

“Tara!” You said, seeing the girl laugh, and unable to resist, you laughed along with Tara.   

“You didn't expect that, did you?” Tara said, still laughing.  

When the laughter started to die down, you realized how close you and Tara were, your breaths mingling and making the whole atmosphere more intense. You knew you should walk away, but Tara didn't have the same thought.   

Tara wanted you. She was tired of not getting what she wanted, she was tired of always putting herself second, neglecting what she really wanted. No, Tara wanted to end it, and as much as she hated hurting Chad, she knows she'll hate hiding it for longer. Then, when you least expected it, Tara's lips were glued to yours.   

 You were surprised, you wanted it, but it was wrong, Tara was in a relationship. Chad was your friend, and here you were, practically lying on top of her girlfriend, kissing her with all the desire you'd been holding back for six months.  

“Tara.” You tried to say, only to be drowned out by Tara's mouth. “Tara, that's wrong.” You said, finally pulling away from the young Carpenter and sitting down on the sofa.   

Your hands quickly went to your hair, brushing them back as you thought about how good and wrong that felt. Tara stood up, sitting down next to you, the two of you's breathing the only things that could be heard in the apartment.   

“I think I should go.” You said, getting up from the sofa.  

Quickly feeling your wrist being grabbed, you looked at Tara, who wasn't looking back at you. Tara was looking at the floor, you couldn't see it, but tears had started to gather in the young Carpenter's eyes. 

“Stay, please.” You sat down on the sofa immediately, it was as if your body was simply commanded by her and now you couldn't go anywhere.   

Sitting there again, Tara looked at you for the first time, you could see tears slowly making their way down her face, and you were confused as to why she was crying.   

“I like you.” It was the only thing she said. You were petrified, it seemed that she had finally put everything she had ever wanted to say out there.   

“What?”   

“I like you, Yn. I've liked you since the beginning, I know it's wrong, but I couldn't hide it any longer.” Tara replied, still holding your hand. 

“When you say it's wrong, you mean...” You looked into her eyes.  

 “No, not that. I don't feel wrong for liking you, I feel wrong for the way I said it to you.” Tara squeezed your hand tightly. “I've been lying to myself my whole life, Yn. And when I saw you for the first time I broke a little, you broke me little by little, until now. I can't hide it anymore because I'm in love, Yn.”   

You felt the young Carpenter start to tense up, tears streaming down her face and you clasped her hand in yours, trying to bring her some kind of comfort.   

“I don't like Chad, I never did. I can't love him the way he loves me, I can't love any guy, Yn. And I know I said, damn it, I knew I said it all along, I was just so scared...”   

A sob cut off Tara's speech, causing the girl to simply collapse in front of you. Quickly wrapped in your arms, Tara began to cry hard, sobbing, shaking and collapsing into you.   

You couldn't believe it, the girl you had fallen in love with was in love with you too. Your world had turned completely around, sirens were going off in your head, and an instant feeling of relief came over you. However, all this was quickly swept aside when you remembered that you had to comfort Tara.   

“All right, put it out.” You said, cradling Tara in your arms.   

Sniffling and trying to wipe away the tears that flowed, Tara pulled her face away from your chest, looking at you for the first time in a few minutes.   

“I'm sorry.” It was the first thing she said. Opening a slight smile of understanding, and putting the messy strands of Tara's hair back in place, you sighed.   

“Don't apologize. I like you too, Tara.” The sparkle in the young Carpenter's eyes seemed to return as soon as the words left your mouth. “I've really fallen for you, you're one of the most amazing, strong, funny and captivating people I've ever met.” A smile grew on Tara's face, she couldn't think of a better way for this conversation to go.   

“But there's still Chad.”  

“I'm going to break up with him.”   

Without even thinking twice, Tara said it looking you in the eye, how could you even doubt her when she said it with such certainty?  

“Wow, okay, wait.” You sat down properly on the sofa. “Tara, I love that you're finally okay, and that you're allowing yourself to be discovered, but take it easy.” You held the woman's hand.   

“I just want to get back everything I lost, Yn. Everything I lost with you.” Tara said, taking your face in her hands.  

“I know. But how about this, you take a week for yourself, think about what you want to do and think only about you. I'll be here anyway, waiting for you.” You say, taking her hands in yours and kissing them gently.   

At six in the morning, someone was impatiently ringing your doorbell. Fearing it might be a nutter, you made your way quietly to the door, still trying to get your eyes to focus and your mind to start working. It was too early, you'd just woken up, and whoever this crazy person was, you were going to kick their ass for waking you up so early on a free day.   

Trying to see what was bothering you so early through the peephole, all you could see was the top of a head, strands of brown hair falling over it, and at that moment you were even more confused, why was the Carpenter gnome knocking on your door so early?  

“Tara, what are you doing here so...” Before you could even speak, you were cut off by a Tara Carpenter jumping on you like a koala and kissing you lovingly.   

It was almost like a wife seeing her husband off to war, that was definitely love. The kiss was slow and loving, and you held Tara's thighs so that she had a foothold. Entering the apartment, you closed the door as you stood, going over to the sofa and settling the young Carpenter on your lap.   

“I broke up with him.” Tara said into the kiss, running her hands up your hair and messing it up even more. “I want you. Please, I'm crazy for you.”   

You had given Tara the week you told her about. She was discovering herself, doing the things she should have done a long time ago, while you were too busy with college exams. There wasn't much time left to meet up with your friends over the last few days, and it seems that someone missed you a lot.   

“Did you break up with Chad?” You asked, turning away from Tara to grab some oxygen before you were pulled into the young Carpenter's love cloud again.   

“I told you, Yn. I want you, I always wanted you.” Tara's eyes sparkled and her smile reflected yours.  

Moving closer again, you kissed, finally doing what you'd wanted to do since you first met. Tara's hands ran freely through your hair, while yours tightened around her waist. Pulling away slightly, Tara grabbed the hem of the shirt she was wearing, pulling it up and off, making you copy her movements.   

With one swift movement, you turned her around, making her lean back on the couch while you knelt in front of her. Distributing kisses across her collarbone, you traced your way down, and with quick hands, you removed the bra the younger Carpenter was wearing without wasting any time. Tara moaned when she felt your mouth on her nipple, and when you reached out and massaged the other nipple, she thought she was in heaven.   

After giving each nipple equal attention, you trailed your kisses down Tara's abs, running your hands along the button of her pants before directing your gaze at her.  

“Can I take these off you?” you asked, a look full of desire on your face as you eagerly played with the button of Tara's pants.   

“Do whatever you want to me, baby.” That's what you wanted to hear.  

Unbuttoning Tara's pants, you slid the fabric down the Carpenter girl's legs, climbing back up towards her intimacy and distributing kisses on her thighs. You could see the wet spot that had formed on Tara's panties, and looking down at her, you gave her clit a little kiss over the fabric, making her moan softly at you.  

Smiling, you removed Tara's panties and put her legs on your shoulders. The woman looked at you expectantly, her breathing was labored, and when you finally gave her the first lick, Tara could have sworn she saw stars. Throwing her head back, the woman enjoyed every movement of your tongue in her intimacy, grabbing your hair when your tongue went deep inside her for the first time.   

Tara didn't know sex could be so good, she had never experienced anything like it. The sensation was overwhelming, and every little stimulation she felt brought her to a paradise on earth. Tara had been eaten out before, but it was never like this, it never had the same passion, the same sensations, the same dedication and it certainly never had the same meaning.   

Your tongue ran through Tara's folds, finding new spots that even she didn't know existed, and suddenly, a noose began to form in the young Carpenter's bowels. Tara had cum before, she thought, she wasn't sure. But the point is, what had you done to her? Tara's legs began to tremble, her body spasmed in ways she couldn't control, and just as she was beginning to try to pull away, you held her in place.  

You didn't care about the noise complaints, and even if you did, you couldn't contain Tara's loud moans. Your hand, which was pressed a little lower on her abs, seemed to have awakened something inside the Carpenter girl, and in the midst of the spasms and moans, her juices began to flow, staining your lips and chin.   

Kissing her thighs, you waited for her to recover. Without even realizing that you had risen from your position on the floor, Tara was only brought out of her little world when you kissed her, making her taste herself on your lips.   

“I'm really in love with you.” Tara said, making you laugh.   

“Ready for one more or do you need a break?” 

“Can you go one more? Can we get married?” 

Hi guys, I wanted to start by saying that I haven't proofread this yet, cause I'm a bit busy organizing things for college. so if anything is wrong, please ignore it, I'll correct it later.

Also, I was going to put 'good lucky, baby' for this fic, but I'm just addicted to this Zayn song, and it kind of inspired me a bit.

But anyway, I hope you enjoyed this fic, I loved writing it.

stay safe, drink water

xoxo, spider

[starshinedreamer]

Alrighty y'all, grab a chair and get comfy whilst I yap about my son, my pride and joy, the greatest thing to ever happen to me, my D&D OC: Raymond Foxwood. He is a Wood Elf Druid with the Researcher background and a Neutral-Good alignment (Images at the very end).

I haven't figured out what his voice sounds like yet. I'm thinking he may kind of have an accent? But like it's barely there. I do have an idea for a possible Japanese voice claim: Souta from the movie Suzume.

His best friend? I guess it would be my friend's D&D character. Her name is Topaz and she is a Dragonborne. Not besties, but pretty close.

Ooooooo boy, I got a whole playlist my friend and I have been cooking up for this sad little fella. Here's a couple of them that I think describes him best:

-"The Moss" by Cosmo Sheldrake

-"Rom-Com Gone Wrong" by Matt Maltese

-"When She Loved Me" by Sarah McLachlan

-"Home" by Cavetown

-"Valentine" by Laufey

-"Love Like You" by Rebecca Sugar

He's like, dealing with a heavy breakup until "Valentine" when he meets his current partner :)

4. "I do Adore" by Mindy Gledhill

5. Nope! But I actually thought about it when I was first creating his character just to see how he would act with other dynamics.

6. A scientist. More specifically, an ecologist. He loves nature and learning about all there is to know about life and the world. He also likes finding ways to help others, so maybe even a pharmacologist?

8. Writing, researching, reading, gardening, and making little insect and animal models because he is a NERD™ /lh<3

9. He generally takes good care of his physical health. Although, his flaw is "Most people scream when they see a demon. I stop and take notes on its anatomy," soooo. "For science" he says. "It's for the greater good" he says.

10. Well he's trying his best. But sometimes anxiety just surprises you and all of the sudden you're spiraling and things seem much worse than they are and pfffft whaddya meeeeaaaan I'm sorta self projecting? But he is the kind of person who feels bad about asking for help and then sort of holds it all in.

11. Inspirations were taken Link from The Legend of Zelda series (mainly BOTW) and Howl from Howl's Moving Castle for his design. Everything else was based purely on my own self indulgences for a nerdy elf character (and the songs my friend keeps sending my for him).

12. Same response as question 2 :)

13. No not really, but he is fighting against an organization that keeps threatening and trying to burn down the library he works/lives in with the librarian: Amanita (Ama, Anita, or Nita for short). Amanita is the person who raised and took care of Raymond after his family died in a fire. A fire caused by the same organization who's trying to harm them now. This is his main reason for joining a campaign; to get stronger and protect his loved ones.

14. This one flippin poison dragon we fought. Or maybe that's just me because I really didn't want to let them leave alive. I don't think Raymond necessarily hates anyone.

15. That all honestly depends on how the rest this campaign will play out. My friend has told me that they all did die a couple times, and we almost died to the STINKIN DRAGON but that's not important right now. But L O R E wise, he'd probably still do his researcher stuff until he's really old. Then he'll write books and share his stories :)

16. If they were alive, then I could see him having a great relationship with his parents since they were also big nerds like him. His relationship with Amanita is also great, and he really wants to protect her since she has done so much for him.

17. YESSSSSS! He loves sharing his knowledge with others and would do such a great job teaching kids. Ohhhh this is such a good one, yes he would feel bad if he had to leave them.

18. He/Him :>

19. Biromantic Asexual. His love language in giving is Acts of Service, and Quality Time for both giving and receiving.

20. A longbow and rocks. He has a cantrip spell called "Magic Stone" which lets me make a ranged attack by throwing small pebbles or stones. I like to call this spell the "RAYMOND, STONE 'EM" spell because its funnnnyyyy.

21. hmmmmmmmmmm Actually, I'm not sure! I guess maybe "Nothing You Can Take From Me" from The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes.

22. Will generally go for the non-violent option (more of a lover), but if initiatives are rolling, he'll fight.

23. Extremely. He'll show up with a new tire to fix the flat one, and an extra one for any future situations.

24. Undecided

25. Not singing out loud, but he would definitely hum to himself! :)

26. Irises, forget-me-nots, and bluebells

27. Symbolism wise, a deer. 'Just because' wise, a rabbit, a fox, and a kitty cat :3

28. The Nerds™ (found at the end of this post:) ).

29. Cozy stuff, lo-fi, books, plants, leather notebooks, and an overall sort of cottage core mixed with academia aesthetic. (Mood Board made in Canva :>)

30. Accepts this as their new life(yippee!). They have now been adopted. Will try to find a way to bring up their interests in conversations.

Fuck it, OC brain rot won. Get ready for the Secret Ask List

1) Does your OC have a voice claim, if so who?

2) Who's your OCs best friend? How did they become best friends?

3) What song describes your OC?

4) What song describes your OC and their partner/love interest?

5) Do you ship your OC with a Canon character? If so who?

6) If your OC is in a fantasy setting, what profession would they be in the modern day?

7) Vice-Versa! If your OC is in the modern day, what fantasy class would they be? Would they be a different race?

8) What hobbies does your OC have? What do they do to unwind?

9) How does your OC handle their physical health? Do they take care of themselves?

10) How does your OC handle their mental health? Do they take care of themselves?

11) What was your inspiration for your OC?

12) Does your OC interact with other people's OC? If so, who's their best OC friend?

13) Does your OC have a rival? How did it start?

14) Who's a character your OC cannot stand! It's on sight when they see them!

15) Will your OC ever retire? Do you see them making it?

16) How's their relationship with their parents? Are they alive?

17) If your OC has kids, are they a good parent? Do they ever feel guilty if they have to leave them?

18) What are their pronouns? What would they like to be called?

19) What's their sexuality? What's their love language both giving and receiving?

20) If they fight, what's their weapon of choice?

21) What song best describes their relationship with their enemy?

22) Fight or Flight? Are they a lover or a fighter?

23) Is your OC reliable? Can I call them up at two in the morning if I have a flat tire?

24) Can they play any instruments? If so, what do they play?

25) Are they the kind of person who can't resist a good song? Can I catch your OC singing to themselves while they do the dishes?

26) What flower do you associate your OC with?

27) What's their spirit tamagotchi? Or an animal you associate them with?

28) What clique would they be in? (Draw them in the clothes of said group!)

29) Imagine a mood board for your OC! What's on it? (Make it if you want!)

30) My OC and your OC are friends. This isn't a question. I'm not asking. (How do they respond?)

[juricel]

— yandere! shadow milk cookie x yandere! reader hcs

໒꒰՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞꒱ა ۪ ׂ CONTENT WARNING: manipulation, mention of cannibalism, mind break, physical abuse, emotional abuse, kidnapping, stalking, heavy obsessive and possessive behavior, vomit, codependency, potential ooc.

𖦁‎ oh, how shadow milk cookie loves—no, how he was so infatuated with you! he adores you; from the your waxen complexion, to your eternal devotion! It adds a stroke of layer to his already overflowing ego, bringing him beyond ectastic, of course you'd love him! there was no other way, it was just as fate concluded! but did he love you as much as you do? oh, he does. he does. he does. he loves you so much, it drove him to the escarpment of lunacy.

𖦁‎ although he admires your faithfulness to him, I'm certain you can forgive him when he takes advantage of it, don't you? oh, it's just too endearing to watch for him not to do so! more often than not, he makes use of your possessiveness towards him—purposely provoking you and intentionally flirting with other cookies right in front of you when he knows you have been trailing after him discreetly. your reactions afterwards only fuel his desires to do it even more! maybe if you weren't so cute, he wouldn't do it as much as he does but you were just too adorable for him. running his slender fingers along the strands of your hair, he cooes and whispers sweet nothings to your ears: all the while telling you that had you been better, he wouldn't have flirted with the other cookie. please kick him, thanks. oh, but don't do it back to him! getting you jealous is one thing, but getting /him/ jealous on purpose? my dear, he'd break your little legs and arms as a punishment, forcing you to cannibalize the cookie isn't off the table either!

𖦁 oh and your love for him... your love for him, oh, he'd take such a good care of it—a care to please himself with. he'd spur you on with motivating words even as you're on your wits end, a sickenly big smile blossomimg over his lips as your knees buckle up beneath you and your hands desperately clasp over your mouth as bile rushes up your throat, he'd chirp and inquire you if you're fine, and yet his calloused hand would press against stomach, urging you to vomit than you have. he'd hang you over the edge of high buildings, whether off the rooftop or over the window—he'd choke you, threatening to drop you, delightful of the fear creeping up your expression, oh, for your face to turn blue, for you to choke until foam builds up in your mouth... it gets him all giddy! how could he not when you're like that? you're just too cute! he loves breaking you apart, he loves seeing you cry, loves seeing you angry, loves seeing you defiant, and especially, he loves seeing you filthy, and despite how cruel he was to you, you would still stay with him no matter what for he was your universe; to you, to die, to fade and decay in the absence of his light would be the easiest task, a dandelion blown away in the wind, an inevitable demise in the foreseeable winter. but to rot within the earthbread with the lack of his presence, oh, It is an aberration! a blasphemy born into the world scraping, weeping, and aching for death, to live without him was a torturous sentence you wouldn’t commute on the worst offender, much less expect them to endure and thrive, a sickly, pale glowing, cave-dwelling weed devouring a pinlight of sun.

𖦁‎ however, regardless of how much you devote yourself to him, his distrust of you knows no bounds, and it certainly doesn't mean you're safe from abductions. he believes you're safer that way! being surrounded by those pesky, revolting imbeciles called cookies only brings you more harm! come to his realm, you're safer within his clutches! don't you trust him? he has more than enough gifts to shower you with! his manipulation is endless, every act is calculated to make you feel like you’re at the center of his universe, even as it slowly closes in around you, each made to fit into his script but surely, you musn't mind, you love him so much after all, right?

𖦁 shadow milk cookie is cruel and atrocious but he loved you, didn't he? he was a pentapod monster, but he loved you. he was despicable and brutal, and turpid, and everything, but he loved you, he Ioved you! kissing you was not enough. to become your god was not enough, embraces were not enough. love was not enough, he wanted to become bounded with you, to become as one. 

a/n: surprisingly, the shadow milk cookie fics here are vanilla... i do adore it but i love unhinged shadow milk cookie.

[organic-bloodbath]

Could you do a Dae ho fic? Maybe the reader being stuck with thanos' group and isn't treated with much respect (either treated as weak or just eye candy) but dae ho comes in and helps her + shows her care and respect. Thank you <3

Safe with me

Dae-ho x Reader

Summary: As above.

A/N: I want to marry this man right NOW. I'm begging on my knees.

☆☆☆

You had never felt like you belonged anywhere. You had barely any friends and for the few friends you did have, you were only the spare friend.

You knew that you were beautiful. Guys had been flirting with you dozens of times but you knew they only wanted to get into your pants. They only cared about your looks and wouldn't care to get to know you for who you really were. You had gotten used to the fact that nobody truly wanted you, they only wanted to use you for a while and then toss aside.

It was all the same now here, in this game. You always had a hard time to approach new people, complete strangers to you, and waited for someone to speak to you, to take you in. Nobody did on the first day.

When the second game started, the players needed to form a group of five. You were starting to panic. Most of the players already had atleast one partner who they could start finding more players with.

You had nobody. What if you were left alone when everyone had formed their groups and you'd end up in the weakest one who nobody else wanted to have either?

"Señorita, excuse me," a man said behind you, startling you from your thoughts. "Want to join our group?"

Your heart started hammering harder against your chest, a new sprinkle of hope rising. You weren't chosen the last this time after all.

The man speaking had purple hair and was supposedly the 'famous rapper' Thanos who many players had been thirsting over before the first game. Personally, you didn't get the hype. The man next to him was player 124, you didn't know his name, but you could see him looking at you from head to toe, hunger in his eyes and a smirk spreading on his lips.

"Yeah, you'd make a great addition to our team," player 124 said and winked, creeping you out instantly.

What choice did you have anyway? If the game was about strength, atleast you wouldn't have to worry about it as much because you had men in your group.

"Sure, i'll join you," you agreed and followed them.

Before the game started, all the players' legs were linked to each other with chains and you were squeezed between Thanos and player 124, who had introduced himself as Nam-gyu. You felt uncomfortable having both men around you, especially having their arms around your waist. You could tell that it was all intentional and they could have easily kept their hands higher and not so low.

When it was your turn to play, you were so nervous that you failed your attempt three times and was becoming frustrated and soon panicking, the time seemed to be running down faster the more times you failed.

"Focus, sweetheart," Thanos breathed right into your ear. "You can do it."

"Don't you dare to make us die today," Nam-gyu spat which was the complete opposite of helpful. Thanos gave him a look to shut it and let you concentrate but you didn't notice it.

Finally, you succeeded and your group eventually ended up passing the challenge and was let to live for one more day.

☆☆☆

It was time to vote and you gathered into the crowd to wait for your turn like everyone else.

"And you're going to press 'O' now, right?" Nam-Gyu asked. "Because if you don't, there will be consequences."

You were relieved when it was his turn to vote. He left you alone with Thanos, he wasn't much better option, but atleast now there was only one of them eyeing you down. There was still many players before it would be your turn. You took a deep breath in and tried to calm your nerves down.

"Relax," Thanos said and put his arm around your waist, pulling you tightly against him. Almost too tightly. "As long as you keep your blue patch," he pressed the patch with his tattooed finger, a little too deep into your breast, "you have nothing to worry about. Okay, señorita?"

"Yeah, of course," you mumbled and tried to avoid eye contact with him, but he put his free hand on your cheek, making you to look at him in the eyes.

"You're not gonna betray us, you hear me?" Thanos said with a low and threatening voice.

"I'll press 'O'," you promised, trying to sound convincing.

"Good girl," Thanos said and smiled. He turned away from you to look at the scores, the blue was winning but the red wasn't far behind, but didn't let go of you, his hand still gripping your waist a little too low.

When his number was announced, he immediately rushed to the front and didn't hesitate even a second to press the blue button.

"You okay?" a man next to you asked. You turned your head to look at him and saw his concerned look. You had no idea if he had stood there the entire time or just appeared there a second ago.

"Yeah, i'm fine," you mumbled but you knew you didn't sound very convincing.

"I'm going to press 'X'," he admitted.

You furrowed your brows, looking at the blue 'O' on his jacket. "You're going to change your vote?"

"Yep, i'm done with this place and i'd rather go home, no matter how much money i would be able to earn here if i stayed," he explained. "It's not worth putting everyone else's lives in danger."

A small smile found its way on your face but it was gone too soon that he would have noticed.

"If you change your vote too, you're welcome to join my team over there," he said and smiled. "I've seen you with those guys and i don't like them, not one bit."

You did want to get out of there as soon as possible, but Nam-gyu's threats were still lingering hot in your ear.

"I'll think about it," you said quietly.

He would welcome you to his group? You had seen him with a few guys, all older than him, and one small girl who seemed to be pregnant, atleast by the looks of it. Oh, how much you wished to have another girl by your side.

Player 390.

It was now your turn and you walk to the front to stand in front of the two large buttons. In your mind, instead of red X and blue O, you saw two faces instead - player 388 and player 124.

You took a deep, shaky breath in, and pressed the red button. The pink guard offered you a red 'X' patch to attach on your jacket to replace the blue one.

You walked to the red side where all the other people wanting to go home were. You glanced at Thanos and Nam-gyu who were looking at you with a cold stare. You wouldn't feel safe tonight if you wanted to fall asleep. You wouldn't doubt a moment that they wouldn't do anything to you in your sleep.

You found the same guy who had talked with you just a moment before, trusting him to take you in with open arms. He smiled and put his hand on your shoulder, leading you to his friends, the ones who had already voted.

"My name is Dae-ho," the man introduced himself.

"I'm Gi-hun and this is Young-il," an older guy said. You had heard of him being here for the second time and how he had won all his games a few years ago. It was possible to eventually get back home.

"Hi, i'm Y/N," you said. "Thank you for letting me join you."

"Of course," Gi-hun said and smiled.

That night, you weren't able to sleep and only feared that one of your former group members were going to come after you because you had voted to leave and changed sides, even though the 'O' was a clear winner and would have won anyway, no matter which color you pressed. Now there was no going back to them even if you wanted to – and you didn't.

You sat up and hugged your legs, bringing them close to you and tried to comfort yourself when there was nobody else to do that.

"Not able to sleep, hm?" a whisper came behind you and someone tapped your shoulder to get your attention. You hadn't heard anyone approaching your bed and was terrified to turn around and look at this person. You knew it was Nam-gyu.

"Not really," you said, trying to keep your cool and not seem weak.

"You did a big mistake for voting 'X'. I told you there would be consequences."

He grabbed your face with his hand, pressing on your cheeks so hard it started to hurt.

"Oi, leave her alone," another voice came nearby.

"Or what?" Nam-gyu scoffed. "You'll fight me over this bitch?"

"If i have to, i will," Dae-ho challenged Nam-gyu and stood now right in front of him. Nam-gyu had let go off you. "I'd prefer we'd do it elsewhere though, i wouldn't want to wake up all the people here and have guards shoot us both."

Nam-gyu narrowed his eyes and looked for any signs of bluffing on Dae-ho's face, not finding any. He only stood there like a stone statue, the expression on his face not faltering for even a second.

"Whatever, keep that bitch for yourself. She's not worth it," Nam-gyu mumbled and left, intentionally pushing Dae-ho's shoulder with his when he walked by.

Dae-ho ignored it with a mere roll of his eyes until he looked at you.

"You okay?" he said and cupped your face with his hand, brushing your cheek with his finger on the spot where Nam-gyu's fingers had just been, but Dae-ho's touch felt like a feather.

You only nodded your head.

"Good. You don't have to worry about them anymore, you deserve to be respected and treated like a woman is supposed to be treated," Dae-ho said and his words made your stomach to be filled with butterflies.

Men had never treated you very well, you were used to getting treated poorly, and now having someone show you some respect felt strange. Almost too good to be true. You would have thought you were dreaming if it weren't for his touch on your cheek.

"Try to get some sleep," he said and was about to get up, until he sat down again. "Do you want me to stay?"

You raised your eyebrows, not expecting to hear that. Did he want to have a go with you after all? Now?

"I mean, i can sleep on the floor," he hurried to say. "If it would make you feel safer and sleep better. I don't mind to take the floor."

"Would you really do that for me?"

"Of course. I'll go grab my pillow, be back in a second."

☆☆☆

You slept well all the way to the morning when they woke you up to a new day. You would have gladly slept an hour or two more but you forced yourself to get up. You looked over your bed and saw Dae-ho hugging his pillow on the floor, opening his eyes.

How much sleep did he really get? You felt bad for him but you were thankful that he stayed with you.

"Good morning," Dae-ho said with a tired smile.

"Morning," you replied with a yawn.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked.

"I did, yes," you answered. "Thank you, Dae-ho. I hope it wasn't too uncomfortable for you."

"Oh, it's all fine," he said, standing up, stretching his back and legs a little bit. "I've slept in worse places. Now, let's start to get ready for the next game."

☆☆☆

During the Mingle game, you were felt much safer with Dae-ho to protect you than what you would have felt with Nam-gyu. You were sure that if they had to kick someone out, it would have definitely been you.

Dae-ho made sure to hold your hand every round so you wouldn't accidentally get lost and separated from him, seeing how brutally people were pulling and pushing each other to get into rooms first with enough people.

When it came down to two people, Dae-ho immediately ran with you to a free room and when you were inside, he leaned on the door so nobody would come there and kick you out and claim the room for themselves.

When the time ran out and the door was locked, Dae-ho fell down to sit on the floor, his back sliding agains the door until he hit the ground. He was panting loudly, as were you too.

"Tell me that was the last round," you breathed loudly and leaned your head on the wall.

"It must be," he wished.

"I hope the rest of our group found a partner too," you said, worried that some of them were left alone and were shot.

"I'm sure they're fine," Dae-ho said and came to sit next to you, putting his arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer to him.

"What if they didn't find a room? There wasn't room for everyone," you pointed out.

"We'll see them alive on the other side, okay?" Dae-ho assured you, his hand on your cheek, making you to look at him. You hesitantly nodded, taking his word for it. "Right now, let's just be relieved that we found a room too."

"I know, i know," you said and leaned your head on Dae-ho's shoulder, not even thinking about how the act made Dae-ho's heart skip a beat. You just found his presence around you comforting and how safe you felt with him.

"You know, i saw you before the second game started and we were supposed to form groups," he said. "We needed to find more person into ours and i saw you standing in the middle of the room alone."

You furrowed your eyebrows, pulling your head back now to look at him.

"I was about to walk towards you, but those other guys managed to get to you first," he explained.

"Oh," you let out a breath. Dae-ho was quiet for a moment and you didn't know what to say to that.

"I'm sorry i didn't get to you sooner," he apologized. "I hated to see how they treated you."

"It's okay, i'm used to it," you mumbled and gave him a sad smile. He furrowed his eyebrows and lifted your chin with his fingers. His heart broke for your words.

"Listen. No woman should be used to that," Dae-ho said seriously. "Don't ever let a guy treat you like that, okay?"

You looked at him for a moment until nodded, a little unconvinced but the look in his eyes was so sincere it made you feel much calmer than before.

"Thank you, Dae-ho," you said with a shy smile. "You're a really great man."

Then, the doors were unlocked and you were allowed to leave.

Walking out and scanning the area to see who had survived the game, you let out a breath of relief, seeing Gi-hun and the rest of them safe.

You had all survived through one more game.

☆☆☆

"You know, i think Dae-ho really likes you," Jun-hee said to you quietly when you were in the bathroom.

"Oh, he's just being nice to me," you chuckled nervously and turned off the faucet, starting to dry your hands with paper towels.

"Nice?" she chuckled. "If we get out of here alive, he's definitely going to ask you for a date. He looks at you like a lost puppy."

You felt your cheeks warming up and tried to fight the smile appearing on your lips.

"For real?" you asked and felt butterflies in your stomach.

"For real."

☆☆☆

You were sitting with Jun-Hee and chatting together, laughing about something she said to you. You covered your mouth with your hand. Dae-ho wished you would have kept your hand on your lap, so he would have seen your beautiful smile.

He would have wanted to ask you if you'd go out with him when this would all be over, but he was afraid he was moving too fast and scare you away. You had seemed to be uncomfortable around men, even though you had relaxed in his arms during the Mingle game, when it was just the two of us, and let him hold your hand the entire time you were standing on the carousel.

He missed your touch and wanted to take you into his arms again, but he had to respect your space and get closer to you when you seemed comfortable enough around him.

You having fun and looking happy made Dae-ho smile. Suddenly, you looked towards him, and Dae-ho hadn't even realized that he had kept staring at you for such a long time. He quickly turned his head away to look at Gi-hun, who wasn't sitting far from him, starting a short conversation to seem busy.

"Hello," you said, startling Dae-ho. You walked so quietly that he hadn't heard you arriving near him. You sat right next to him.

"Hello," he greeted.

"We'll have to go sleep again soon," you said. Dae-ho hadn't even realised there was only 10 minutes until the lights were going down.

"Oh, it's that late huh," Dae-ho said.

"I don't want to be weird, but..."

"Yes?" he encouraged, when you didn't finish your sentence. You bit your lip, and Dae-ho saw your cheeks turn slightly red.

"Would you mind to sleep with me again tonight?" you asked nervously. "I get it if you don't want to, it's okay but i just-"

"Yes, of course," Dae-ho interrupted you. "I mean, if you want to and feel safer, i'd be happy to." Dae-ho's heart was beating faster and a smile spread on his face. "I'll just grab my pillow and-"

"No," you said and grabbed his wrist, looking at him in the eyes. "I meant, in the bed with me."

Dae-ho's eyes widened.

"Oh," he quietly gasped. "Sure, yeah."

You could see his cheeks turn red and a smile on his lips.

You went towards your bed and both of you laid on it, your head resting on his chest.

"Your heart is beating very fast," you pointed out and turned your head upwards to look at him. "Am i making you uncomfortable?"

"It's the opposite of uncomfortable," he reassured you and brushed his fingers through your hair.

Right then, the lights went out and you were fully clinging on Dae-ho's body, your left leg over his.

"Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight, Dae-ho

[brazenautomaton]

People sometimes bring this up when discussing the salaries of elected officials -- yes, most politicians are paid more than most "regular people," but they're not paid enough to sustain the expensive lifestyle politicians have to maintain, and that's on purpose. It's not an oversight, and it's not primarily about cost-cutting. It's a deliberate barrier to ensure that only rich people can run for office.

I mean counterpoint: basic observation of what people say and think about elected officials being paid, which is that they hate elected officials being paid and don't want elected officials to be paid because of how much they hate the idea of elected officials being paid. They don't want only rich people to run for office, they want elected officials to be poor because they aren't paid, and haven't thought their position through at all.

When nonprofits brag about how little of their budget goes to "overhead" and "salaries", as if those terms were synonymous with "waste," what they're really saying is "All our employees are financially comfortable enough that they don't worry about being underpaid. Our staff has no socioeconomic diversity, and probably very little ethnic or cultural diversity." ***

No, it's because when people donate to a nonprofit, they want that money to go to the cause the nonprofit is for. That's why they donated the money. They didn't donate the money in order to give it to someone who works at the nonprofit, unless the nonprofit is about "our employees will be paid to go do something valuable to others, like digging wells or something." When people hear "overhead" and "salaries" they think "administrative costs" and then they think "evil greedy executives robbing the money meant for children because they are so evil and greedy."

"In it for the money" is the worst thing a worker could be, of course. Heaven forbid they be so greedy and entitled and selfish as to expect their full-time labor to enable them to pay for basic living expenses. I get this all the time as a public library worker, when I point out how underfunded and underpaid we are. "But... you're not doing it for the money, right?" And I'm supposed to laugh and say "No, no, I'd do it for free, of course!"

Because people who hate the concept of money don't think that you need to have money to pay for your living expenses. They think you Have Enough Money, like, it floats in a nebulous cloud over somewhere, and comes out of somewhere, and you just have it. This is an emotional position that has not been thought through. This is not people who think that only the rich should be able to do work. This is people who, on an unconsidered visceral level, think that anyone asking them for money must already be rich, and money isn't a real thing, and only greedy people care about it.

Like, you have identified emergent properties of how people think about things, tendencies created by unspoken assumptions about the evil and corrupting properties of money. Lots of people have pointed out the idiocy and counterproductive nature of the leftist idea that "if money got involved at any point, it's evil." And it's definitely more pronounced among leftists but you see it everywhere. "Not in it for the money" means someone is virtuous, and "in it for the money" means someone is greedy, venal, corrupt, suspicious.

Then having identified this emergent property of how people think about money, you... claim it is an intentional and agentic scheme by The Rich, based on literally nothing other than "it exists, so it must have been agentic." No, it's not on purpose. Barely anything about our societal outlooks on things is on purpose, and those that are, are just minor influences on how people already thought about things or attempts to reframe things so that the natural patterns of how people think about things will produce different results. And the natural pattern of things is that people hate the idea of other people being paid money.

You can see this most easily when the worker is someone who provides a service and a bill directly to the consumer, like an artist or a contractor or a plumber. People who want money are money-grubbers who are already well-off and just greedy for more. Why do you care so much about money? You have enough money! You could afford to give this to me for free! You're trying to rob me, you greedy thief! Private therapists have stories about how their patients think that they want to, or should want to, see as few clients as possible because it doesn't click with them until pointed out that the therapist makes their living by seeing clients and if they stop doing that they can't pay rent.

People say these things about "the corporations" and then believe and behave the same towards people who aren't "the corporations" because it's how they think about money and paying people. Look at how people react to a large corporation raising the price for something, all the hatred and outspoken anger at corporate greed, everyone Sticking Up For The Little Guy. Then look at how people react to a small business raising their prices and it is exactly the same thing in every capacity. Civit.ai, an independent startup company that has operated at a loss for its entire 2.5 year existence, just raised the cost of generating images with lots of different support models (they're called "lora") because it's more computationally expensive and costs them more. Entire comment section, wall to wall "This is corporate greed, nothing but corporate greed, you didn't need to charge more, your greed is disgusting, you're charging me so much more that I know it's just greed," etc, etc. It's all over the goddamn place! Anyone who wants money is greedy and has enough money already!

You could say that this is a complete lack of empathy for anyone outside a comfortably middle class life, "I don't have to worry about money so obviously nobody else does," and I'd agree with you, though I'd add an element of "when I need money it's due to an unfair attack on me, but other people obviously don't have that happen to them unless I personally know them and feel bad for them." But you just had to go with "It exists, so it's an agentic scheme by The Rich."

This is a semi spinoff of this post, but really its own thought.

When a job pays less than a living wage, it generally attracts one of two types of employees:

Desperate people (usually poor and/or otherwise marginalized or with barriers to employment), who will take any job, no matter how bad, because they need the money, or

Independently wealthy people (usually well-off retirees, students being supported by their families, or women with well-off husbands*), who don't care about the pay scale because they don't need the money anyway.**

And sometimes, organizations will intentionally keep a job low-paying or non-paying with the deliberate intent of narrowing their pool to that second category.

People sometimes bring this up when discussing the salaries of elected officials -- yes, most politicians are paid more than most "regular people," but they're not paid enough to sustain the expensive lifestyle politicians have to maintain, and that's on purpose. It's not an oversight, and it's not primarily about cost-cutting. It's a deliberate barrier to ensure that only rich people can run for office.

The same is true, albeit to less severe effect, of unpaid internships -- the benefit of "hiring" an unpaid intern isn't (just) that you don't have to pay them; it's also that you can ensure that all your workers are rich, or at least middle-class.

When nonprofits brag about how little of their budget goes to "overhead" and "salaries", as if those terms were synonymous with "waste," what they're really saying is "All our employees are financially comfortable enough that they don't worry about being underpaid. Our staff has no socioeconomic diversity, and probably very little ethnic or cultural diversity." ***

This isn't a secret. I'm not blowing anything wide open here. People very openly admit that they think underpaid workers are better, because they're "not in it for the money." This is frequently cited as a reason, for example, that private school teachers are "better" than public school teachers -- they're paid less, so they're not "in it for the money," so they must be working out of the goodness of their hearts. I keep seeing these cursed ads for a pet-sitting service where the petsitters aren't paid, which is a selling point, because they're "not in it for the money."

"In it for the money" is the worst thing a worker could be, of course. Heaven forbid they be so greedy and entitled and selfish as to expect their full-time labor to enable them to pay for basic living expenses. I get this all the time as a public library worker, when I point out how underfunded and underpaid we are. "But... you're not doing it for the money, right?" And I'm supposed to laugh and say "No, no, I'd do it for free, of course!"

Except, see, I have these pesky little human needs, like food. And I can't get a cart full of groceries and explain to the cashier that I don't have any money, but I have just so much job satisfaction!

And it's gendered, of course it's gendered. The subtext of "But you're not doing it for the money, of course" is "But how much pin money do you really need, little lady? Doesn't your husband give you a proper allowance?"

Conceptually, it's just an extension of the upper-class cultural norm that "polite" (rich) people "don't talk about money" (because if you have to think about how much money you have or how much you need, you're insufficiently rich).

*Gendered language very much intentional.

**Disabled people are more likely to be in the first category (most disabled people are poor, and being disabled is expensive), but are usually talked about as if they're in the second category. We're told that disabled people sorting clothing for $1.03 an hour are "So happy to be here" and "Just want to be included," and it's not like they need the money, since, as we all know, disability benefits are ample and generous [heavy sarcasm].

***Unless, of course, they're a nonprofit whose "mission" involves "job placement," in which case what they're saying is "We exploit the poor and desperate people we're purporting to help." Either way, "We pay our employees like crap" is nothing to brag about.

[willowsnook]

draw four

Can you do write something where reader and Joe are playing Uno?

joe burrow x gf!reader

—------------------------------------------

Eyes narrowed, you stared at your boyfriend but his face betrayed nothing. He was stoic as he stared back at you. You knew his face well enough to know their was a hint of a smirk that was trying to break through as you studied him. 

You looked at your hand and then at the pile in the middle. Joe had one card left, and you had a wildcard, but what color should you change it to? He’d played a lot of blues so far, so it could be that, or maybe it was green, and he’d just been waiting for the chance. 

“Can you hurry up? Jesus,” Ja’Marr said from next to you, mentally noting that this was the last time he was ever going to play a card game with the two of you. You took Uno very seriously, always had. And Joe was, well, Joe. Losing wasn’t in his nature. 

You ignored Ja'Marr's impatient plea, your focus solely on Joe and the crucial decision before you. The tension in the room was palpable as you weighed your options. Finally, with a deep breath, you made your choice.

"Green," you declared, placing down your wild card with a flourish.

Joe's eyebrows raised slightly, the only indication of his surprise. He glanced at his final card, then back at you. For a moment, you thought you'd outsmarted him.

But then, that infuriating smirk you knew so well spread across his face. "I’m out," he said smoothly, laying down a green skip card.

You groaned in frustration as Ja'Marr threw his hands up in exasperation. "Finally! Can we please do something else now?"

Joe leaned back in his chair, victorious. "Whatever you want.” 

“Movie,” his friend said insantaly, practically bolting from your dining table to the living room. Joe gave you a wink as he followed, sitting at the end of the couch. You walked right past him, choosing to sit in the arm chair clear on the other side, much to his dismay. 

“Baby,” he complained, patting the spot next to him. 

“I’m good over here,” you replied shortly and Ja’Marr snickered. 

Joe's eyes softened, a mixture of amusement and guilt playing across his features. "Come on, don't be like that," he coaxed, his voice low and persuasive. "It's just a game."

You huffed, crossing your arms and sinking deeper into the armchair. "A game you always win," you muttered, unable to keep the pout from your voice.

Ja'Marr, settling into the middle of the couch, rolled his eyes. "Oh my God, you two are ridiculous. Can we just pick a movie already?"

Joe ignored his friend, his gaze fixed on you. With a sigh, he stood up and crossed the room. His arms reached under you and soon you were lifted in the air temporarily as he sat down in the chair, then settling you on his lap. 

You couldn’t stay mad at him for long with a face looking at you like that, and his fingers tracing circles on your skin didn’t help. 

“You cheated,” you whispered and he laughed loudly. 

"Cheated? Me?" Joe feigned innocence, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief. "I would never."

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't help the smile tugging at your lips. "You always seem to have exactly the right card at exactly the right moment. It's suspicious."

Joe's hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer. "Maybe I'm just lucky," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear.

"Get a room, you two," Ja'Marr groaned, flipping through Netflix options with increased speed.

You giggled, nestling further into Joe's embrace. His fingers continued their lazy patterns on your skin, sending pleasant shivers down your spine.

"Next time," you whispered, your lips brushing against Joe's jawline, "I'm checking your sleeves before we play."

[lazycats-stuff]

Don't know if or when your asks will be open, but how about Batfam x male reader, where Reader is sarcastic and somehow pisses off Jason. Then Jason and the rest of the brothers decide to get Reader stoned to see what would happen and how he would behave. Fast forward 5 hours and the entire Batfam and the Justice League are trying to save the Reader from the Legion of Doom, only to find the abandoned warehouse and every villain unconscious from exhaustion or whatever because of the Reader and the Reader (stoned out of his mind) just dancing with one of the major villains to the song Rasputin. Later, when they bring Reader back to the manor, Alfred just tears the brothers a new one while Reader is still doing the most random things like Sheldon Cooper on coffee.

Thought it would be funny, thank you

Okay, comedy is not my forte, but I'll do my best to make it funny. Also, yes it's been a while, but no one said college was easy.

Warnings: smoking weed, author knows nothing about weed and smoking, swearing, author sucks at comedy, Alfred is mad.

Summary: (Y/N) pisses Jason off, who decides to get revenge.

(Y/N) and Jason were always at odds. (Y/N) has always been a sarcastic person and sometimes it would grate Jason's nerves to no end. Everyone else were used to (Y/N) being sarcastic and sometimes that sarcasm was necessary, so it was nice to have a sarcastic person who was simply natural about it.

But Jason was in a bad mood that day and (Y/N)'s sarcasm was not welcome anywhere in his vicinity. But, since they live in the same house, they are bound to see each other. And soon enough they got into an argument. What was it about? None of them can even remember, but Jason can only remember the feeling of getting back at (Y/N).

So... With his other four brothers, they have devised a plan to get back at (Y/N).

And that is to get him stoned out of his mind and see what he does. Record anything embarrassing and use the for blackmail. Of course, Bruce and Alfred can't know anything about this. Otherwise there would be hell to pay.

Especially from Alfred.

But they weren't really worried about (Y/N). They have all been exposed to a lot of different things, so weed was the least of their worries. The only thing they needed to do was to make sure to stone him and make sure no one finds out. Now, the problem is how to get him stone, because (Y/N) won't take weed willingly and knowingly. So the sneakiness is the way to go.

And the four of them devised a plan.

It has been 5 hours. 5 fucking hours since (Y/N) was kidnapped by the Legion of Doom. Bruce was close to just losing his mind and/or ripping his hair out from the worry. He wasn't sure what he was going to do first. The four boys were slightly worried. (Y/N) was stoned and... Well, it was a lot. His cognitive abilities are dampened. Which is not good when you are kidnapped.

Especially if you are kidnapped by your enemies. No. Just no.

And then they got the lead and went to abandoned warehouse. Bruce called in the big guns. The entire Justice League was there to help him. And his four sons too. It was going to be all out. They do need their brother back. Especially since they stoned him and they could only hope that he would be fine.

" He's going to be fine, " Jason said as they were making their way to the warehouse.

Bruce thought he was talking in general. He had no clue that they stoned him. The other 3 brothers just glanced at each other, wondering if he was really going to be fine. If he is even alive. That would be a better point to start with. Is he even alive? Is he being tortured? Are they cutting up his body to send it back into pieces?

Who even knows what they are doing to (Y/N)?

Jason was slowly, but surely, starting to question himself and trying to push the guilt down.

If he hadn't stoned (Y/N)...

They surrounded the warehouse, ready for the worst. But the sight that greeted them was something that could be in a movie.

Villains strewn on the floor, not dead. Superman has said that they are all alive. Just unconscious. Their heartbeats were all slow. But this wasn't even the best part. (Y/N), clearly stoned, if not from the smell, then from the sight of him, dancing with Lex Luthor, the leader of the Legion, dancing to Rasputin. Lex was clearly stoned out of his mind too.

Now, Bruce was expecting the worst. But this is... This is something that you see in fiction, not reality. What the hell has happened here? Bruce had to many questions swirling in his mind, but the first one being how the fuck did (Y/N) get stoned. How the hell did (Y/N) get stoned?

There is no weed in the manor. He has a rule that no drugs are allowed in the house. None.

Bruce slowly approached (Y/N), just as Lex passed out from exhaustion. Oh, Bruce could smell the weed. He wrinkled his nose a bit, but slowly, with some coaxing, managed to get (Y/N) in the car. Superman, Wonder Woman, Cyborg and Flash, Aquaman had problems back home, loaded up the criminals for transport.

The villains weren't Bruce's problem at the moment. It was the fact that (Y/N) was high as a fucking kite. Maybe even higher. God only knows how high. But for now, they had to wait it out.

" What the hell were you 4 thinking?! Alfred will kill you 4! "

And turns out that Bruce was right. Alfred heard what happened to (Y/N) and to say he was livid would be a big understatement. A big one. At the moment, in the cave, Alfred was ripping them a new one.

" How could you all be so stupid to get him high?! He was never stoned in his life! "

" Alfr- " Jason started, but Alfred gave him a sharp look.

" DO NOT INTERUPT ME MASTER JASON! How could you think that it was a good revenge to get him high! What on earth went through your mind?! "

While Alfred was yelling, (Y/N)... (Y/N) was like Sheldon Copper on coffee. Jittery, couldn't stay still and was just a bundle of energy. Bruce was scared out of his mind. Sure, the man who weeds out terrorists, murderers and the rest, is afraid for his youngest son who was high as a fucking kite. Or even higher.

Again, God only knows how high they actually got him.

(Y/N) was mumbling, walking around the cave, restless and just unable to sit still. It was not a possibility. Bruce was trying not to get worried, but looking away for a split second and bam. (Y/N) was gone.

Now the panic has set in. Where is his son? Where the fuck is he?!

" Safe to say is that you 4 are grounded! How long, I am not sure, but lets make it clear, you'll be living in a prison! What you did was irresponsible and stupid! " Alfred continued, voice loud and clear, showing no signs of stopping down.

Bruce searched the entire cave and actually managed to find him. By this point, the effect seemed to have calmed down. (Y/N) was now calmer, munching on Oreos underneath a table. It seems that (Y/N) was calming down. Which was good. Soon enough, Bruce would put him to bed once he calms down a bit more.

" Alfred, the effect is wearing off, " Bruce declared to Alfred who calmed down a bit.

" Now, " Alfred's attention was back at the 4 boys, who were looking remorseful. His voice was now calm and collected. " You 4 are going to change, go upstairs, have dinner and go to your rooms. We'll talk more about your punishments in the morning, when we are all rested, I'm not mad and when (Y/N) is back from the heavens from how high he is. Up you all go. " He gestured with his hand and the 4 boys obeyed.

Morning came and (Y/N) came down. He was feeling dizzy, sleepy and clearly felt off in every sense of the word. Alfred gave him a light breakfast, trying to get some food in him. He didn't want (Y/N) to be hungry, especially not after being higher than a kite.

The others watched him, worried. They didn't mean it to go this far. Truly.

" Are you okay? " Jason asked quietly, making (Y/N) sigh.

" I swear, I will wrangle your fucking neck Jason. I swear to God. " (Y/N) rubbed his temples and Jason simply shut up after that.

Alfred didn't scold (Y/N) for the threat or for the language he has used. It was justified. (Y/N) wanting to snap his neck is a normal reaction after getting him high as a kite. Well, higher than a kite.

" Don't worry master (Y/N). You'll be back to your old self in a day or two. Don't stress yourself out, alright? "

(Y/N) nodded as he finished his plate and slowly moved to stand up, feeling off in every single sense of the word.

" Good, good. Slowly. " Alfred gently led him upstairs, where he tucked him into the bed to sleep. He also gave him a trashcan where he could throw up if he needed to.

" I would give you something to sleep, but I don't think that it is a good idea. Now, close your eyes and try to sleep.

Downstairs, Bruce was sitting with his other boys, a stern look on his face.

" I don't think I need to tell you that all 4 of you are grounded. For how long, that remains to be seen. This was stupid, reckless and for what? For revenge? Unfortunately, I won't know how he took down the Legion of Doom, because he has gaps in his memory. And I still can't believe he danced to Rasputin with Lex Luthor. You can all consider yourselves lucky that he's even alive. "

Oh, they were counting themselves lucky.

[sirfrogsworth]

The Anger Returned

This is probably the most hurtful and infuriating paragraph I've ever read...

"As for taking care of dad. We offered many times to find a place for you and dad to live closer to us so that we could take dad to his appointments and have some skilled care available. He didn't want to leave you at the house alone, so my wife searched high and low for a place that could take both of you. Dad was open to moving closer to us and had said he would have done so on several occasions but you were unwilling to give up the house and ultimately dad said no based on your opposition to moving and that you both would remain at the house. You make it sound like you were taking on this burden to relieve the pressure off me, but in reality this was the only way to retain the house for you after dad's passing. Because if you were unable to care for Dad the current situation would be very different."

That is one of the last things my brother said to me way back in August of 2023.

I don't understand how two people can be so oblivious to what is involved in taking care of a dying person.

Taking him to his appointments was probably the easiest part. And that is what they were willing to personally contribute.

And "skilled care"? What does that mean? A nurse? House cleaning?

Within my dad's budget, we could have maybe afforded someone to come a few times per week. That would have been almost no help to me at all. Plus, they could have sent "skilled care" to this house. Why was that dependent on moving closer?

It feels like they think appointments and having someone come over for a few hours here and there is all it took to care for my father.

But accusing me of wanting to stay put so I could "retain the house."

I still don't know how to process that anger.

It repeats in my head in a loop. Sometimes I will forget about it for a few weeks. Maybe a month. And then tonight it just started looping in my head again.

First, my dad lied. He kinda screwed me. He probably didn't know he was screwing me. But he did not want to leave this house. He was surrounded by my mom's things. He thought her spirit was still here. He talked to her at night when he was trying to fall asleep. I don't think he knew I could hear him.

Oh, and he threatened to kill himself if we tried to move him out of this house. So there was that, too.

But he lied and blamed it on me so my brother would stop pressuring him to move. I get it. But it gave my brother an excuse to blame me. A way to justify away his guilt. Sure, he was only 45 minutes away. But if he were only 5 minutes away, that would have somehow solved everything.

My dad couldn't go to a nursing home because he was neglected so badly in rehab (which is a nursing home) that he had to call the police on them. He said "I'll die before I go back to one of those places."

And the fact they were even considering that just shows you how out of touch they were with the situation.

And, yes, I didn't want to move. That is true. But it had nothing to do with "retaining the house." I thought the stressful process of moving would kill my dad. And I asked the doctor what moving could do to my dad's health and he said, without hesitation, "Oh yeah, that would have killed him."

Beyond that, they had no plan. They didn't say how we were going to get our belongings out of the house. How were we supposed to handle the realtor or open houses? It took me months to configure this place to my dad's needs. Were they going to help me do that in a tiny apartment? Were they going to find my dad new doctors and a new pharmacy?

I built an entire infrastructure around this house to take care of my dad. They talk about all this work they did googling apartments but they did no research or planning on how to actually move us. Was that up to me? Was I supposed to figure all that out while giving him 24/7 care?

I was watching a new show called The Pitt and it had a woman taking care of her elderly mom. And she was so overwhelmed she abandoned her at the ER. And I started crying because that is so real. Taking care of a dying person is nonstop stress.

I had to watch my dad go to the bathroom every single time to make sure he didn't fall. Which meant I never slept through the night.

Not once.

I slept on a mattress on the floor next to the hallway so every time he got up, I would wake up. And if he fell, I would pick him up. In the final few months he could not tuck himself back into bed. So 4 times per night I had to get up, watch him pee, arrange his pillows so they supported his back, pull up the covers, and then tuck them under the pillows so they wouldn't move. He was so uncomfortable all the time and that was the only way he could fall asleep.

And those were the *easy* days.

The hard days involved cleaning up pee and poop. Sometimes blood. Sometimes mystery fluids. Before I got the special lifting device, if he fell, I had to literally drag him to his electronic reclining chair so we could use the footrest to help get him up again. I once had to drag him through two rooms and hurt my back for a week. I probably should have called EMS, but I didn't know my back would go out until it was too late.

And then there were the delirium days where he talked and didn't make any sense. How do you take care of someone you can't communicate with? He had a dead toe that needed lotion applied. Nearly made me puke every time. And then there was the time the urologist had to open up his urethra. With a metal spike. My dad screamed so loud I nearly had a panic attack. Every person in that office heard him scream.

But I think his depression was probably the hardest to deal with. He had a son that never spoke to him. Never visited. And a granddaughter he only met a few times. He cried himself to sleep so many nights. Sometimes it was so bad I had to lie with him in bed and just rub his back until he fell asleep. He was so lonely without my mom. And I tried to be good company, but I was often too tired to give him any attention beyond his care.

When things were hardest he would get suicidal. And considering his quality of life, I didn't blame him. Sometimes I regret keeping him alive as long as I did. He was ready to go as soon as he lost his wife. But we both held out hope my brother would wake the fuck up and realize there was not much time to make amends. To say goodbye. To install core memories of my dad in his daughter's mind. So she'd at least have one grandparent to remember.

It never happened and I feel guilty for letting him live so long in misery when deep down I knew that hope was foolish.

That's the kind of shit no one knows or thinks about when it comes to caregiving. The easy days are hard and the hard days are impossible and you feel awful for feeling overwhelmed because you aren't the one miserable and dying. Dialysis is nearly barbaric.

For over a year, I barely slept at night. And the only time I could get uninterrupted sleep was when he was at dialysis. So the only time I ever had to myself, I had to use sleeping so I wouldn't burn out.

Hiring a "skilled worker" does nothing to help me with that. And no nursing home is going to give him that kind of care.

Only love can give someone that kind of care.

My brother doesn't think I saved him from any burden by taking care of my dad. I just wish I could figure out a way to show him just how incorrect that is.

If I refused to take care of my dad and left it all in my brother's hands, he would have put him in a nursing home and burned through all of my dad's money in a few months. Then he'd either have to pay for his care or take him in.

Was he going to watch my dad pee 4 times a night and tuck him in?

Those who have never taken care of someone like this... have you ever thought deeply about what is involved? Does your common sense tell you it is a little more than driving to appointments and hiring a "skilled worker"?

Why does my brother (and my uncles) think so little of my efforts?

I honestly thought it was common knowledge that taking care of a dying person was super duper hard.

It was the hardest thing I will ever do. And the thing I am most proud of accomplishing. And for some reason I still want my brother to say thank you. I don't know how to find closure without that gratitude. And I'm pretty sure it will never happen.