#because damn there's like. very very little

[reignpage]

Basketball Captain!Toji

Detroit Pistons: reaching for the ball

Warnings: 18+ minors and ageless blogs dni, bts of a modern au!smau (part 2 of Toji's series), can be read as a standalone but makes most sense with the context, cursing, mentions of blood and violence, general stupidity at a party, just one long foreplay really, not proofread

You really shouldn’t be here. 

Not a party full stop, not trying to enact petty revenge against your shitty ex, and certainly not with Toji Fushiguro, captain of the basketball team, and resident fuckboy. 

He’s taken you by surprise at every given turn. You hadn’t expected him to ask for your number from his friend, you hadn’t expected him to reach out just to complain about his placement on the List of the hottest men on campus, and especially did not expect him to let you into the gym just because it was raining, though he did shrug off your incredulous look with a nonchalantly delivered jab. 

“Y’ were ruining my view with y’r ugly crying face.”

And somehow, you had let him convince you to use him to make your ex jealous, to show him what he was missing out on. 

Now you, the girl who never drank, never wore short skirts, never stayed out too late, followed every rule to the letter, is now sitting firmly on Toji’s lap, slotting in perfectly like a puzzle piece, at a frat party. 

It’s like you’ve somehow ended up in an alternate universe or woke up in someone else’s body. Maybe you’re in a dream. Except the searing brand of a heavy hand on your bare thigh is disproving any of those theories. 

“You enjoying yourself?” His voice is low and gruff, you feel it vibrate against your body, lulling you into a sense of comfort. The rough denim of his jeans is warming your skin, his solid chest keeps you grounded, and his thick arms have you all wrapped up, balanced securely and protected from the night air.

You nod, head buried in the crook of his neck. Once in a while you inhale his musky aftershave, relishing in that freshly showered scent he always had. “My sources say Gojo throws a party at least once a week.”

“Guy likes to party,” is all he says.

There have been flashes of his white hair around the large house, disappearing among the crowds and into different rooms. He had greeted you when you first walked into the garden to make your way to Toji with a beer in hand like your partner in crime had instructed you. 

Gojo was nice, very friendly, a little loud, but you knew that already. As the writer for the gossip column, you know every thing there was to know about everyone worth knowing. Which is ironic since you’re nobody and you knew none of these people personally. But the frat president knew you. He had greeted you like you were long time friends and pulled you into a tight hug.

“Hey, look who it is! My favourite person in the world.” He slung an arm over your shoulders and cheered with everyone else, seemingly oblivious to the heat rising on your face. “Thanks again for putting me top of the List. Nice to know people have taste.”

And then Toji was grumbling and wrestling you out of the rowdy guy’s grip to a quieter part of the house. He told you to explore the place, get familiar, freshen up your makeup ‘or whatever else chicks need’, and to text him if you find your ex first. 

Now, here you are, making yourself comfortable on his thighs, goosebumps rising along your skin at the feel of his long fingers creeping up your leg and just teasing the hem of your ridiculously short skirt. 

Some people would come over, once in a while, to talk to Toji. They’d say hi to you but they were mostly interested in knowing how the captain feels about the upcoming games. A few girls would stumble over, giggling and twirling their hair but they leave pretty quickly once they see Toji’s eyes fixated on you. 

You have got to give him credit; he’s totally committed to the bit.

Perhaps a little too committed with how he’d frequently whisper right in your ear, warm breath trickling your neck. 

“You look damn good tonight, ma.”

The way he says it, the low groan that he teases you with, makes you press your thighs together. It’s a completely inappropriate reaction; you really should not be feeling tingly from his flirtations. He doesn’t mean them. Toji is just playing the part, trying to goad your ex into a fight so he can ‘ruin the vibe’ at Gojo’s party. 

Because, for whatever reason, Toji had beef with the man that seemed completely one-sided, if the hug the frat president tried to throw to the basketball captain was anything to go by. 

You stutter out a ‘thanks’ and ignore the heat rising to your cheeks. 

Toji huffs a laugh, tightening his hold on you before he leans back in the patio chair, taking you with him so you’re resting on him. Your skirt’s definitely ridden up your ass by now, but his large hand wraps around the flesh there like second nature. 

Despite the chill in the garden, you’re content in his arms. The man runs hot.

It’s easy to get lost in his body; the man is built like a Greek god, all muscle and strength, carved straight from marble. And it’s precisely because he’s so firm and hard beneath you, that you forget your ex is just a couple metres away, leaning against a brick wall with a red cup in hand, glaring at you two. 

“Dunno why Gojo let that guy into the frat when he’s so fucking ugly,” Toji grumbles. 

You laugh. 

Once upon a time, you thought you were lucky to be with him. That he was the catch and you were punching up; he certainly made you feel that way. Always reminding you that he could have any girl on campus, that the barista at your local coffee shop had given him her number with a smiley face, and that as a member of one of the most influential fraternities in the country, he could have any job he wanted. 

But as you throw a glance at him, you realise all of that was false bravado. A Napoleon Complex, most likely. 

And not once, since Toji picked you up, have you felt less than. He compliments you so frequently, so spontaneously, and so earnestly you can’t help but believe him. 

“Why do you hate Gojo, by the way?”

The captain glances down at you, a slow smirk emerging on his face and you gulp at the sight of that scar stretching. You want to know more about it, simply because you’re a journalist, it’s in your nature to be inquisitive, and definitely not because you want to trace the skin there whilst feeling his voice rumble through his body and into yours. 

With a shrug, he lifts his beer to his lips, and admits, “Don’t really hate the guy. Just wanna knock him down a peg or two.”

“I stalked Gojo for about two weeks just for a statement one time, y’know.” You stare at the people hooting and hollering over a table of beer pong, watching their jumping bodies, so light, so free like there isn’t a whole world of problems beyond the frat house’s territory. “When I finally cornered him after his lecture, he laughed and said I didn’t have to do all of that. I could have just texted him.”

Toji huffs an amused laugh. “That’s what’s annoying ‘bout the guy. He’s nice. Real fucking nice. But — and this is off the record, doll — guy’s got problems. And yet he’s always smiling. Just pisses me off, sometimes.”

And to that you just nod. You get it. There are some people out there who just seem to have it all, and you resent them for it, but they never hold it against you, and you resent them even more. 

“How did you become friends with him anyways?”

“Just kinda happened.”

If you have to hazard a guess, you’d probably say it happened through the fact that they all run in the same circle. Big personalities like him and Gojo and Sukuna, are hard to miss. They’re the kind of people want to be around. Everyone knows Sukuna and Toji have been roommates since first year, allocated on a random basis at first, and they hit it off instantly, opting to room together since then. 

With a sweep of the backyard, you enquire, “Where is Sukuna?”

“Somewhere, I’m sure. Guy doesn’t really like parties, actually.”

You gasp. “But my sources say he attends most of them.”

Toji places the bottle in your lap and you cradle it like it’s a treasure. He runs a hand through his hair and leans his head back with his eyes closed like he’s soaking up the moon’s rays. Earlier, you had told him you felt bad you were holding him back from enjoying his night, but he just patted your ass and said ‘it’s good to slow down, sometimes.’

“He does, but I think guy just likes to know all the drama. Likes to cause them too, the prick.”

You poke his chest. “Sounds like someone I know.”

He peeks at you with one eye, small grin on his lips.

“We’re a match made in heaven, doll.”

The conversation fades and you just rest your head on his chest, listening to the steady thumping of his heart and desperately trying to ignore the shiver that threatens to wrack up your spine with the graze of his thumb against that sliver of skin between your skirt and top. 

Toji’s holding you like he’s been holding you since the dawn of time. There’s no awkwardness, no uncomfortable shuffles to accommodate your weight, and he doesn’t even look the least bit bothered that sometimes people will point and whisper at the star basketball player and some nobody cuddling up in the corner on a swinging bench. 

You sense movement in the corner of your eye and spot a girl cozying up to your ex. He looks at you with a smug face. 

“How did you know my ex would care?”

You stifle a gasp from the sudden clench of his hand over your waist. It was forceful but gentle, invoking flashing images of him towering over you, wrangling you into position. He could easily bend you over and take what he wanted. Toji is big and muscular, yes, but he’s also an athlete. There’s no doubt in your mind that he has the stamina and endurance to go all night and not break a sweat. 

Shaking your head slightly, you bring the beer to your lips absentmindedly, taking a swig that leaves you blanching. How anyone could drink this, you’d never know. 

“No guy wouldn’t care that his ex moved on pretty quickly. Plus, insecure little shits like him need to think that they got the better end of the deal. He needs to know you’re all sad and stupid over him so he feels important.”

Wise words. 

It surprises you slightly. 

Of course, most students at Eden are smart — being one of the top universities in the world means having high standards. But no one would ever go to a frat-party attending jock for advice, much less dating advice, and expect insightful revelations. You feel guilty for underestimating Toji. He’s actually pretty smart. 

“Look, he’s got a girl on his arm and yet he keeps looking at you.”

It’s true. 

You can feel his leery gaze sweeping up and down your body, and it makes you want to throw up. So you shuffle closer to Toji, impossibly closer, and he lets you. 

“You look hot, doll. Just gotta own it, yeah?” His breath fans over you and it sets your skin ablaze. One hand rubs at your thigh, relishing in the soft, smooth skin and the other is gripping your hip. And beneath you, there’s something you’ve been giving your best shot constantly to pretend isn’t there. 

Toji Fushiguro is hard. 

And big, by the feel of it. 

You already knew that, of course. You get lots of anonymous tips through your ‘Insider’s Line’, as you like to call it, voicing in exhilarated pants about recent escapades. It’s a hotline anyone could call. You’re the only person who has access to the voicemails that get left behind. And it’s never usually a tedious process to sift through the prank calls and the boring confessions to get to the juicy details about the ongoings on campus. 

Many of those voicemails are to do with Toji. Whether that was about how he ‘so hot’ they could just ‘die or, like, combust’ or variations of ‘oh my god, that dick is fire, for real.’

You are not a prude. 

You have too much exposure to much more graphic descriptions of people’s adventures to be shy about sex, not to mention, you’re an adult. A virgin, but still an adult with friends who are not shy about their sex lives, to put it mildly. In fact, you’ve got a certain art student friend who loves to rant all the ways she’d like a certain vandal to ‘paint’ her with his ‘artistic essence.’

Whatever that means. 

And yet, despite all your pieces on the wildest, most inappropriate topics like ‘the hottest sex position right now’ and ‘is six inches really enough?’, you find yourself blushing at the realisation that the captain of the basketball team is sporting a boner that he doesn’t care to hide. 

You clear your throat and with a whisper, you say, “I hope I’m not making you…uncomfortable.”

You wince at the awkward wording. What are you? A child?

Toji grunts. 

“You referring to my boner, ma?” When you nod embarrassed, he taps your thigh with two fingers. “It’s your fault so you gonna lend a hand or what?”

If he was anyone else, literally anyone else, you’d be outraged. No man should talk to a lady like that and insinuate that they have a responsibility over someone else’s bodily reactions. It’s backwards and uncouth!

But…

Toji Fushiguro is not anyone else. 

You know he’s joking; he doesn’t seem to have any qualms in making stupid jokes with you because he knows you write filthier things. He’s tested your boundary many times in the past couple days and you’ve grown accustomed to his humour. 

And even if he isn’t joking, you have no problems with taking the opportunity. 

You shouldn’t.

You just got broken up with the other day and it’s unwise to get personally involved with a person you write so frequently about. Bias must not be tolerated is your mantra. 

Yet, your thighs are pressed tightly together, your nipples are poking through your top and you know he can see them, and if you were to slide a hand between your legs, you’d likely find wetness that is unbecoming of a lady. 

Wait. 

Among hundreds of voicemails, didn’t you receive one about how a guys likes girls sitting on his lap so he could feel their pussy?

Can Toji feel your pussy clenching, moistening and fluttering on his thigh?

You tilt your head up with a panic and you’re aghast. He’s already looking down at you with a challenging raise of his brow and a smirk playing on his lip. He knows what you’re thinking and he sees the question in your eyes. 

Toji flexes his thigh in an answer, pressing it harder against you, and the friction is delectable. It leaves you reeling, hand clutching his chest for stability. His arms tighten around you, and he’s sitting up, no longer lazily lounging, but now drawing closer, muscles tense despite his calm expression. Green eyes flicker up and down your face, settling on your lips with a hunger you surely match. You’re entranced. He smells clean and fresh with a hint of something burnt, a maturity you want to explore. His scent is filling your head, washing away the smell of cheap liquor and weed. 

Then, a foghorn like whoop pierces the mist. 

Some guy had climbed the balcony and is threatening to jump into the empty pool. Everyone crowds around, laughing and cheering. 

The moment is lost between you and your new friend, but he doesn’t let you up. In fact, he isn’t even looking at the idiot — not like you are, thinking about piece you could write about party culture — but rather at his stupid roommate, who stands on the other balcony, leaning against the railing as he looks on at everyone in disgust. 

Perhaps it’s the sheer fact that they’ve been friends for a while, and so he knows Sukuna’s inclination for inciting violence and general nonsensical behaviour for his own sick satisfaction, that makes Toji so damn sure this is his doing. Or maybe it’s the fact that he knows his roommate has developed a fascination with pushing a certain someone’s buttons. 

And when his phone pings and he receives a text from his pink-haired teammate, he knows it’s both. 

If the fucker stains Gojo’s pool with his blood, you think he’ll complain to the Prez?

Toji doesn’t bother answering, he just pockets his phone again with a tsk. He’s totally gonna hide the guy’s car keys in retaliation later for ruining his moment. He was so close to getting a taste of a certain gossip columnist and the opportunity was gone and excusing herself to go inside for a blanket. 

When she disappears from sight, weaving through the crowd still egging the loser on, the captain groans into the sky, squeezing his throbbing cock to adjust it. It’s gonna be a long night, he thinks, but then smiles to himself when he notices your dumbass ex still glaring with as much hate as the little guy can muster, and he knows he saw the whole thing. 

Now, all he can think about is you returning as quickly as possible so he can pick up where he left off. He’s gonna push all three of you as far as possible tonight: the ex will know he’ll never be man enough for a woman like you and that’s why he couldn’t get you wet; you’ll learn to let go, trust the pleasure and embrace it; and Toji?

Well, Toji’s gonna learn that the quietest girls are usually the ones with the most to say. 

[sanarsi]

Bitter

older boyfriend!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: You came to make his break more pleasant. Warnings: +18, MDNI, age gap (not specified), old man!Joel, contractor!Joel, there is an introduction to smut, Joel is a big strong man so he can lift reader Wordcount: 0,8k An: This is a part of 24 hour writing challenge by @iamasaddie I promised myself that I wouldn't write anything except unfinished projects, but I saw this moodboard and this challenge and I just HAD TO (but 1k words is definitely not enough for my dirty mind)

A cloud of dust rose behind the car as you sped down the final stretch. The house that stood at the very end was finally starting to look like a house and not like a haunted ruin. All thanks to the man who was standing in the middle of the yard, watching out for anyone who had blown into these backroads.

A wide smile spread across your face as you turned down the radio and pulled up nearby. You looked out the window, sliding your sunglasses down and smiling even wider when you saw Joel in just his jeans.

“What’s up, cowboy?” you shouted, to which he snorted and shook his head in amusement.

You turned off the engine and grabbed a case of drinks. You jumped out of the jeep and slowly approached the man whose chest was shining with sweat more than the Texas sun.

You wrinkled your nose looking up at him and allowed yourself to admire the wrinkles by his eyes for a moment.

“Shouldn't be at work now?” he asked as if he wanted to scold you for it. You just shrugged innocently and moved closer to him and his arms wrapped around your waist without hesitation.

“I’m on a break,” you replied, your gaze sliding down to his lips and chest. “And from what I can see, you could use one too.” You locked eyes with him again as a smirk crept across his lips. You knew that expression too well to believe in his pure intentions as his face approached yours.

“Yeah?” he asked in that damned tone that sent butterflies through your stomach.

“Yeah,” you nodded before his nose brushed against yours. He was playing dirty and he knew it from the moment your gaze fell on his bare chest.

Oh yes, he knew what he was doing to your young mind.

“I don’t know,” he smacked his lips in disbelief, “I have to build ya a house.”

You swallowed hard, feeling your pulse quicken and Joel felt it too; the way your breath bounced off his lips and your body grew warmer from the sun that hitting his back.

Even after all this time, he couldn’t fight the pride he felt when you reacted like this to his closeness.

“But I see ya brought me some drinks, that's so kin—”

“You know what, old man?” you interrupted him, so he fell silent, watching those little fires in your eyes that he adored so much.

“Know what?” he asked trying to hide his amusement. He loved teasing you and even more so the way you looked at him then.

“I have twenty minutes and the house a little more,” you noticed and he didn't even try to hide his amused smile.

“Okay, so here’s the deal.”

You raised a curious eyebrow and allowed yourself to run your hand over his arm. The hard muscles under the hot skin only inflamed your thoughts more than allowed to focus on his words.

“I'll make you in ten,” he whispered with that unholy look of his, catching your attention. “And then you'll put some cream on me ‘cause I burned my back a little.”

You blinked twice before you could understand the meaning of the last sentence.

“Joel, I told yo—”

“In ten minutes,” he interrupted you before you could get fired up with anger. “You can yell at me all you want.”

You fell silent, thinking about his words but it was hard when he looked at you with those big, shiny, brown eyes.

Fucking Joel Miller and his eyes like a wounded deer.

“Damn you,” you cursed under your breath, knowing there was no point in fighting him, because when he wanted to make you, there was little that could stop him.

“I knew we’d understand each other,” he said smugly, taking the case of drink from your hand. You didn’t even have time to blink as he leaned down and lifted you up with his other hand.

You hugged him tightly as he started walking towards the house, leaving the drink on the table with the construction plans on the way.

“Your back,” you noted, a hint of concern managing to reach his ears. He just smiled, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, and stepped onto the porch.

“You massage like a pro, so I guess you can let me treat you like a princess from time to time.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the warmth his words brought. “Yeah, bu—”

“Shh,” he interrupted you, reaching for the doorknob. “In ten minutes,” he repeated, looking at you until you finally gave in, sighing heavily. “Good girl.”

Without waiting any longer, you buried your fingers in his hair and pressed a hard kiss to his lips. You melted into the taste of him, allowing yourself a moment of oblivion as the door slammed shut behind you.

[strangersteddierthings]

Made With Love

It takes one bite for Eddie to suspect he's done something wrong. A second bite confirms it. He's fucked up somehow and cannot for the life of him remember what it was.

Did he miss an important date of some sort? It couldn't have been their anniversary because that's August 13th (Eddie's new favorite day of the year, for obvious reasons). He absolutely didn't miss Steve's birthday. Not with how long he and Robin had spent planning the damn thing. (Eddie is never throwing another surprise party in his life; the stress of secret keeping was too much to bear.)

... Did he miss Robin's birthday?

No. That can't be. Steve would never let him miss that.

It could be one of the Party's birthdays, but Eddie doesn't think that's a transgression that would warrant this.

This, of course, being his peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

"What, your peanut butter's gone bad?"

Eddie lifts his eyes from the proof of Steve's anger at him to his coworker, Charlie, sitting across the table from him in the closet that Thatcher claims is the break room. "No. It's much worse than that, I'm afraid."

"Well, don't keep me in suspense," Charlie deadpans.

"This sandwich wasn't made with love," Eddie whines, looking back at the sandwich with as much sorrow as he can muster. He sets the sandwich down on the baggy he had pulled it out of so that he can frown down at it without having to touch the offending creation.

"Ah shit," Charlie says, voice filled with empathy. This is why he's Eddie's favorite coworker. He gets it. Possibly because he's the only person who's tasted the difference for himself, back when Eddie'd just started at Thatcher Tires. "What'd'ya do?"

"I don't know!" Eddie wails. "Everything was fine when I left this morning, or I thought it was anyway."

"Ain't your misses pretty good at lettin' you know you done fucked up?" Charlie, like the best coworker that he is, looks surprised that Eddie doesn't know what he's done. He's right, too. Steve is the goddamn king of petty, and Eddie has never struggled to know when Steve's mad at him. The struggle usually comes from Eddie refusing to be in the wrong.

(That's not to say that Eddie is always in the wrong. He's not. Sure, a good percent of their arguments Eddie is the one at fault and he's mature enough to admit so once the argument is over, but it's not always his fault.)

Anyway, the point is, regardless of who's at fault, Steve is angry at him about something and for the first time in months Eddie doesn't know what for. They'd promised each other, after their first very big fight that almost ended in a breakup and was over a misunderstanding, that they would tell each other why they're mad or upset or feeling some type of way. So for Eddie to not know...

He thinks he might have fucked up big time.

"I know!" Eddie cries, shoving the sandwich away from him to make room to drop his forehead onto the table, then turns to smoosh his cheek against the table so he can look at Charlie. "Charlie. Charlie what do I do?"

Charlie blows out a long breath, thinking, before he gives a decisive nod and says, "you gotta beg forgiveness."

Eddie knows Charlie's right. He doesn't know what he did but he's going to beg forgiveness anyway.

Which is how he now finds himself in the small floral section of the grocery store looking over the sad, wilted bouquets after work. His arms are already full with Steve's favorite ice cream, candies, an over-priced little blue teddy bear that's holding an 'It's A Boy!' card that Eddie plans to rip off, and a blank card with a painting of sunflowers on it that he plans to wax poetry about Steve inside.

The final part of his groveling is, of course, the flowers. It's the wrong season for sunflowers, so Eddie was going to settle for roses. It's just that these roses are all sad looking. They don't really scream 'I Love You More Than Anything Else In The World, Please Forgive Me For What I've Done' though.

Let it never be said that Eddie doesn't know how to beg forgiveness.

He ends up picking the least wilted looking bouquet, one with white and yellow flowers he can't name.

The cashier is an older lady who takes quick catalogue of his items and asks, "is it your anniversary, darling? Or, oh!" She picks up the blue bear and Eddie feels his ear heating with embarrassment as she coos, "are you expecting? How exciting!"

"Err, no, not, uh, no. It's just blue is hi-her favorite color, so I was planning to just cut off the little card," Eddie stutters out the lie. Blue isn't Steve's favorite color but Eddie's used to making up many little lies when talking to strangers. Being hate-crimed is not a passion of Eddie's. "I, uh, messed up. And I don't know what I did, but I'm going to make it right."

The lady smiles at him and gives him a firm nod as she scans the items. "Smart boy. I'm sure she'll forgive you."

Eddie gives her a smile he hopes isn't as tight-lipped as it feels on his face.

Back in the safety of his van, Eddie roots around until he finds a pen and gets to writing all the things he loves about Steve in the card and all the things he hopes they'll get to have in the future. Nothing they haven't spoken about before, but it still makes Eddie a little emotional writing it all down.

Once he's done writing, he pulls his pocket knife out and cuts off the 'It's A Boy' card from the bear, crumpling it up and tossing it in the back of the van to be forgotten. He shoves the sunflower card in it's place. His card is a bit wider than the previous one here so it stays in place, albeit precariously. He'll be careful handing it over to Steve.

He knows that Steve is at home already. Steve's always home first because he's off work at four compared to Eddie getting off work around five.

Well. Closer to five-thirty today with his stop at the grocery store. He really hopes that whatever has Steve mad at him isn't time related. Being late home without calling might earn him no favors if it's a time-based blunder.

Steve is in the kitchen, back to the door since he's facing the stove, as Eddie expected he might be. Which means that Eddie doesn't get to lay out all his Items of Forgiveness across the counter like he had hoped but that's okay. If the love of his life has chosen to forgive him, he knows Steve will be just as overjoyed to rifling through a bag of goodies as he would to pick them off the counter.

"Hi sweetheart," Eddie says, words oozing with adoration and sweetness.

"Hi baby," Steve's tone matches Eddie's, like an instinct to match Eddie's energy has written itself into Steve's DNA. And it might have. Eddie knows the reverse is true.

Steve turns from the stove, then, and his face lights up with delight and surprise. "What's all this?"

"Your favorite things, because I love you," Eddie says, raising his arms a bit. The grocery bag is looped over his wrist with flowers in one hand and the bear in the other.

Steve looks positively smitten.

Eddie is nailing this apology that isn't an apology. And let it be known; he cannot say he's sorry. It'll ruin everything. Because Steve, his wonderful, beautiful, kind and loving Stevie, will cock one perfect little caterpillar eyebrow and ask if Eddie knows what he's apologizing for, and Eddie will have to say he doesn't know and that isn't something he's willing to do. Especially not when it's looking like whatever Steve was mad about has completely slipped Steve's mind, too.

"I got your favorite ice cream, too, so we might want to get that into the freezer," Eddie says, passing the bear and card to Steve and shimmying around him to get to the freezer.

He lays the flowers on the counter and sets to emptying the bag. Ice cream in the freezer and goodies on the counter, while Steve reads the card silently behind him.

He knows he's successfully made up for whatever it was he had done, because Steve crowds him against the fridge shortly after setting the card down and turning the stove burner off, kissing him breathless.

Eddie even gets desert before dinner, with Steve all but dragging him to their bedroom.

-

The reddit post that inspired this -

[elfieafterdark]

I have a little teeny tiny cheeky theory about this moment. So if you'll indulge me, I shall share it.

I think John Gaius, in this moment, is lying to Harrow.

Let's think about this from a factual standpoint. John is the most powerful necromancer in the entire fucking universe, by a country damn mile.

He is powered by at least 5 billion souls.

You can blow him up into a fine mist and he will reassemble.

He fears not death nor Resurrection Beast. He remotely killed everyone, and resurrected everything and everyone afterward.

And far more compelling than any one thing I could tell you about John, is the fact that despite him saying this at the end of GTN, by the end of HTN, Harrow has proven him wrong.

He tells her it's impossible to remove Gideon. It is not. It is categorically, empirically not. Because they are separated. Gideon is in one body and Harrow is in another. You could argue semantics over how much of those souls are the originals and whether anyone has lost a piece of themselves sure.

Simple fact remains, Gideon and Harrow are separated. He lied to Harrow here. And that's not even the most interesting or sinister part of this interaction I think.

I think it's far more horrifying to examine why John Gaius lied to this heartbroken 17-year-old girl who was begging him, the man she views as God, to bring back the one good thing in her life.

The entire point of the Canaan House Incident was to create new lyctors. Because John's been losing them at an alarming rate. For being nearly invincible super powerful, infinitely energetic necromancers, the lyctors sure have a habit of dying a lot.

He needs new ones. I'm sure he was hoping to get eight new ones in the best circumstance. Instead he finds that he is down one, and only two of the adepts managed to succeed.

The rest of the house nobility were murdered by his own.

Ladies and gentlemen, he lied to Harrow because he needed Harrow. He could very well have separated Gideon, of that I have no doubt. I doubt many things about John Gaius, but I do not doubt his ability to separate souls. Maybe he's telling the truth? I don't think so.

He's lying to manipulate her. To fit his selfish ends, cuz I don't think anyone will deny that John Gaius is extremely selfish.

We know he lied to all of his bestest resurrected friends, solely because he didn't want them being like him? It's actually not clear why. But if he was willing to lie to his friends, then why not some random scrawny girl he's never seen before?

Just some random ramblings.

[muirmarie]

mccoy and spock get together towards the end of the five year mission, and spock is very, "obviously the doctor is aware that vulcans do not have casual relationships and almost always mate for life" and mccoy is, of course, "getting that damn vulcan to open up is like pulling teeth, how am i supposed to know how he feels about me" and this causes new and exciting problems when they're trying to sort out what they're DOING after the end of the five year mission

and mccoy is trying to subtly figure out if spock has any interest in being stationed together, and spock is, of course, the doctor is my mate, of course we will stay together, and mccoy gets offered this really exciting opportunity at a cutting edge research station that's still hands on enough with patients that it's perfect for him, and he kind of tosses it out there one evening to spock, hoping to get something from the bastard, and instead spock just skims through and stone face is like "in my opinion you should accept, it is precisely the opportunity you've been looking for" and mccoy sits there after spock leaves, like okay!!! i guess we're breaking up?? is this not even enough of a relationship for him to consider it a break up??? i may have to kill him. no jury would convict me. what! is! he! thinking!, and spock goes back to his quarters and immediately sends them a message like "i would like to apply for a position as well :)"

and mccoy still won't fucjing SAY what he MEANS because he doesn't want to be left vulnerable now that he's convinced himself that spock simply Doesn't Care Enough, and every time he at least tries to get like, some meaningful goodbye moments???? spock keeps blowing him off??? meanwhile spock is like "it is rewarding to know that the doctor wants to spend time with me, but i know he will miss our friends, and as his mate it is important for me to make sure he spends enough time with his friends before we all leave the ship", and then when mccoy says he's going to go visit joanna before he starts his new assignment, spock's like =/ wish he invited me along but I will respect his wishes and says he's going to go to vulcan between assignments, and then it's over! they're saying goodbye! and spock! just! leaves! and mccoy is just. absolutely furious and trying So Hard to Not Care but also!!! so!!!! furious!!!!

so anyway imagine his surprise when he arrives at the research facility for his new assignment three weeks later, and they're like "doctor mccoy!! so nice to meet you! your husband arrived two days ago, and he took it upon himself to set up your shared quarters and your office to your liking, but let us know if you need anything else, we're so thrilled to have you on board!"

and mccoy is just.

"i'm sorry. what did you just say?"

and spock comes walking out like everything is normal, and gives him the little vulcan finger kiss, and turns to the welcome party and says, "husband is a simplification of a vulcan term - we have not performed the human marriage rites, but he is my mate"

anyway yeah mccoy probably tries to strangle him.

they make a great first impression.

[kaelidascope]

On one hand, I'm relieved to see that it isn't just me suffering in the engagement department whereas I used to get flooded with comments and the like every time I dropped something. It isn't the only reason why I've moved from fanfic work to original work, but it is part of it. The last round of engagement on the latest MM chapter was abysmal, and while I know it's not a reflection of my quality in writing, I kept beating myself up over the possibility that I took too long to update it and people gave up on it/forgot/fell out of love with my work because I as a creator was not performing good enough. It drove me into a bit of a depression for a while.

On the other hand, this is making me rethink my stance on never telling my favorite authors how much they have inspired me to take off with my writing career. This is going to get a little lengthy but I want to talk about it so bear with me here.

Closed circles know how much of an insane, unhinged fan I am of certain writers, yet I have never actually said a word to them. I think I left one comment on maybe two fics that went unanswered (which is fine. They're not active in the fandoms I'm in anymore and I'm just some guy out of probably hundreds all saying the same thing. They're not gonna reply to me) but apart from that, you wouldn't catch me dead actually admitting how much the works mean to me. But why?

I guess I was far too proud and too terrified of being let down if I exposed myself like that. Despite the fact that these authors were literal catalysts for borderline impossible feats I have done within the last year, WELL RECEIVED FEATS at that, I swore I'd never tell anyone how inspiring they were for me. (Unless a casual friendship has been established. I have had the tremendous honor to able to talk to some of my inspirations one on one but under incredibly lucky circumstances)

I had a scenario in my head that these were the cool kids, and if you ever got picked on at all for admiring anything, you know damn well you never tell the cool kids about your admiration. I was afraid that they'd take one look at the work that was inspired by theirs and laugh at it in their enclosed circles. I wasn't going to risk having my confidence crushed and lose the motivation to continue working on my projects by being a fan.

I know not all authors do this. Every time someone comes to me and tells me I've inspired them to be a better writer, I literally frame it in a collection of screenshots I have saved on a hard drive. Every. Single. Time. And I know anyone else would tell me that if the person I admire would actually be cruel enough to mock an up and coming writer, then they're not worth admiring. Which I agree with! But try telling that to sensitive little Kaeli that safeguards their interests with the fiery defensiveness of a feral bear on cocaine.

But then I see posts like this, and I put myself in their shoes. I don't know them. They could be a jackass but they could also be like me - someone who bases a lot of motivation for project completion based off of whether or not people even care to see it completed.

This is all a very long, round about away to say that who cares if the author you build a mini-shrine for in your brain thinks your cringe for liking their work? Odds are they probably need to hear that you liked it so much, it inspired you to do something with that feeling. We all need to hear it. They inspired you and now you're making something that will inspire someone else. To be a creator is to share that passion everywhere you go. There's nothing cringe about it.

A writer friend told me something that broke my heart a little bit today; they're going to quit publishing their fanfic.

My instant thought was that they had been trolled or attacked or that something terrible had happened in their life because this person is so passionate about their writing. It wasn't any of that. Engagement with their works has been going down, as it has for many of us. Comments are like gold dust a lot of the time, and just looking through the historical comment counts on old fics on ao3 demonstrates this trend very clearly. It was not simply the comments dropping off which caused them to decide to stop posting, however.

My friend came across a discord server for their fandom (I should point out here that their fandom interest and mine diverged a couple of years ago, we stay in touch but don't currently read each other's posts because I'm not into their fandom and they would rather gouge their eyes out with a wooden spoon than read anything Star Wars) and specifically to share fic in that fandom. They joined, because we all love a good fic rec, only to discover that their latest multichapter fic, which has almost no comments and very few kudos, is being hotly discussed in this server as one of the best stories ever. Not one of these people has bothered to say this to them on the fic. When they asked, none of participants could see the point in telling the author of the fic they apparently loved so much that they love it.

This discovery has absolutely destroyed my friend's love of sharing fic. They share because they love seeing other people's enjoyment, and fic writers do that through comments and kudos/reblogs/likes because we don't get paid. There is no literary critic writing a blog post/article about how amazing the story is for us to copy and keep/frame. There is no money from royalties. All we have are the words of the people reading our works.

Those people on that server could have taken five minutes of the time they spent gushing about how amazing my friend's story was to other people and used it to tell the one person guaranteed to want to hear that praise how much they loved it. They could have taken a moment to express their opinion to the person who spent hours upon hours plotting, writing, editing, and posting those chapters. Instead, they deprived my friend of thing that keeps them sharing their writing, and in the process have killed their love of it. My friend now feels used and unmotivated.

I won't be sharing a link to their fic, they said I could share their experience but not their identity. I know they plan to post one final chapter. I know they intend to express their hurt at being excluded from the praise for the thing they created, and I know they intend to announce that as a consequence they will not be posting for a long while, if at all.

So please, I beg you, don't hide your love of a story from the writer. It's just about the only thing we have.

[spatialwave]

Confession || Jayce Talis x Reader

➸ ask: “The sacred romantic moments prompts are so darn cute I can’t choose😩how about ‘truth is that i’m so damn in love with you that i don’t know what to do with myself’ for jayce. Thanking you🫶🏻” – ➸ pairing: jayce talis x gn!reader ➸ word count: 1.9k  ➸ tags: mdni! fluff, hurt/comfort, yearning, one-sided love, confessions, childhood friends, no use of y/n. ➸ notes: i think i popped off with this one! took me a couple of days to write, but i am so happy with it! if you like yearning then this one is for you!! hehe. the ask came from this prompt! – ➸ summary: jayce talis has never experienced love quite like this.

The melodic whistling from Jayce had woven itself into the very fabric of your life. A soundtrack to your life you hadn’t asked for. You were never able to escape the sounds or his presence. Stuck at the hip since children, spending much of your life watching him dream larger than life. 

Jayce Talis was hope personified.

He carried a quiet tune under his breath, careful fingers toying with a rune he had meticulously carved. The warm pads of his thumbs brushed away the layer of dust that accumulated from the careful engravings, pausing his whistling for a moment as he carried out the task with a swift blow of his breath.

“Someone’s chipper,” your voice rang through his cluttered apartment. Leaning casually against the door frame, you watched as he perked up, head snapping over his shoulder. Those eyes reminiscent of the sun breaking through the clouds settled on your figure.

It was a pain, Jayce thought, for you to be so oblivious of his feelings.

Days, weeks, and months turned into years. All this time spent loving you, one-sided and terrified that you may never know. Too afraid to ruin a perfectly good thing. His yearning clung like a shadow.

Jayce had been there for you – always. Your first broken bone, your first love… your first heartbreak. Jayce remembered that day vividly, the way your body shook as you sobbed on his shoulder begging for the ache in your heart to stop, all while he held you and drowned with guilt for feeling happy that was the one there for you.

All because it meant that just maybe you would see him in another light. See him as a man who was worthy of your love.

As always, he bottled it up. Refusing to jeopardize the bond you shared. If he couldn’t have your heart, he’d protect his own.

“Yeah,” Jayce replied, his voice filling your heart with a sense of familiarity as you stepped into the room, hands settled onto your hips. Dropping his supplies, he quirked an eyebrow and straightened up slightly, “Wait, how’d you get in here?”

“You know, Jayce,” you sighed, giving a short ‘tsk’ of disappointment as your eyes bounced around his lab. It was messier than usual, the scattered tools and half-finished contraptions indicating he’d been spending more time here lately, likely on the brink of another grand discovery, as he’d call it. 

“Locking doors is free and usually saves you from burglars,” you continued, bending to poke at one of the hextech crystals on a messy desk.

“Hey,” he exclaimed, hurrying to your side with a breath of concern, snatching the orb from your curious touch, “Careful!”

The way he carefully handled his precious work was endearing, almost as tender as cradling a newborn baby. There was no faulting him for that–after all, you weren’t going to be the one to have your eyebrows burn into flames again. You learned your lesson, but it was hard not to rouse a reaction out of him once in a while.

To see the way he’d growl under his breath when you pestered him, or how he’d nudge you with his elbow affectionately. Little gestures that made him fall for you harder and harder with every passing day.

You were so damned insufferable, and he couldn’t get enough.

Eyes met yours as the two of you stood next to each other, silently. A moment of solace to bask in each other’s presence.

“You look like you need a break,” you murmured, eyes squinting to get a better look at Jayce to take in the obvious signs of exhaustion on his face. His eyes were heavy and highlighted by dark circles underneath, the growing stubble–“Did you even sleep last night?”

“I’m fine,” he chided, avoiding your gaze as he turned to tuck away the crystal you’d bothered, safely in its proper case, “As for sleep, I got enough to keep me going.”

“So… three hours, give or take? Including a twenty-minute nap for about ten minutes sometime around the three o’cock mark.”

“That’s creepy,” Jayce shot you a sideways glance, a smirk pulling the corner of his lips, “You’re creepy for knowing that.”

Your mouth dropped in a dramatic expression of mock disbelief, a silent gasp, “And you’re quite rude, Jayce. It’s not kind to name-call.”

“Okay, okay, sorry,” he snorted, slipping off his gloves from his fingers and resting them atop the desk behind him. As your eyes flickered out his open window, momentarily distracted, he took the time to admire you as you soaked in the sunlight that cascaded past his open curtains. The sunlight illuminating your features.

Jayce smiled, captivated by your effortless beauty. He would do anything to be given the privilege of showing you the way you looked in his eyes.

“You need a break,” you declared, your eyes landing on his just as he averted his gaze, “Come on before you go crazy.”

Your hand extended toward him, causing his heart to leap up into his throat as he stared down at it. Impatient, you shook it in silent urgency, and he was quick to fill it with his own as you tugged him far, far from his cluttered sanctuary that desperately needed a good clean.

“Gods,” you breathed, laughter bubbling up your chest as you found yourselves standing on the bridge that separated Piltover from Zaun. Your hands rested over the railing, fingers curved along the stone as you leaned over and looked down at the waters below, “Remember that time we came out here back when we were… what, fifteen? We stole that bottle of wine from my mother’s cabinet and drank so much that you nearly toppled off the ledge trying to climb on it.”

Jayce hadn’t been paying attention, hands tight over the rail like yours, entranced by you. Your lips were stretched into a wide, toothy grin as you looked down and relished in the cool breeze that tickled your warm skin.

His heart ached, thumping irregularly as it yearned, and cried out to be loved by you.

It’s why he allowed himself to be swallowed by his work for days on end–anything to escape the unbearable ache of being around you. It hurt, to be next to you, like a physical blow to the chest.

For years, he stood quietly off to the sidelines, watching as you were loved by others. Seeing the way your entire being lit up when you spoke so passionately about the love in your life, light in your eyes. Only to be shattered when they inevitably stomped all over you like you were nothing, leaving you a shattered mess. Jayce would be there to pick up the pieces, spending long, sleepless nights consoling you until your soft snores overtook the tears that streamed down your cheeks.

Jayce was nothing if not a coward. Regret clouded his mind each night when he would berate himself for not having the courage to confess his feelings. To tell you how much he fucking loved you.

He hated how angry it made him.

“Hello?” 

Your voice snapped him from his reverie, and his amber eyes widened as you stared at him, piercing through the fog of his thoughts.

“You really need some rest,” you said quickly, your eyebrows furrowing together in concern, “are you sure you’ve been okay?”

“I’m fine,” he grumbled, running a hand over his tired face in frustration as he turned away from you, “just tired.”

“Jayce,” your voice softened, and it struck a nerve in him that he wished hadn’t.

“I said I’m fine. Can you just leave it?”

Your body stiffened as you watched him in stunned silence, searching his face for any understanding of what was going on behind those pained eyes. Was it the research? Had his big breakthrough fallen out of grasp? Maybe he needed a nice herbal tea and a nap.

The entirety of your mind reeled with ways to help him, anything to alleviate the weight of the world he seemingly carried on his shoulders–unaware of the emotional turmoil that chained him to the ground beneath him.

“Why are you lying to my face?” You stood your ground stubbornly, arms crossed firmly over your chest, “It’s okay to be tired, Jayce. You work too hard.”

“I’m not lying,” Jayce replied sharply, a mix of frustration and desperation bleeding together. One hand lingered along the railing, the other moving with the passion of his words that masked the truth, “Why would I lie to you? I just–” he scrambled to gather his thoughts.

The struggle was evident on his face, and you felt your own frustration boil over. It was far and few between that you both indulged in these confrontations, bickering like an old married couple until they exploded into fiery words that often ended in mumbled apologies.

“Why are you being so difficult?” Your tone was loud and sharp, “I’m just trying to help!”

“I didn’t ask for your help!”

The words stung your cheeks like a harsh winter storm. 

Jayce’s jaw clenched tight, emotions roiling under his skin,  “Do you want to know the truth?”

You watched him, noticing the storm that swirled in his eyes, “Jayce–”

“The truth is–” Jayce began, lips trembling as he pushed through, “the truth is that I’m so damn in love with you, that I don’t know what to do with myself,” he exclaimed, confession spilling from his lips as he pressed a hand to his chest, “It’s impossible to be around you because my heart breaks every time I have to watch you leave, knowing that I can’t be the one by your side,” he choked on his words, eyes glistening with unshed tears, “I’m so in love with you that it physically hurts. It’s unbearable, gods, it hurts so fucking much.”

Jayce’s chest heaved with each deep breath, his guts spilled out in front of you. Vulnerable and open–what he’d been avoiding for so long.

Your lips trembled. Moving, but unable to form any sentences. All you could do was look into those eyes that spoke more than his passionate ramblings.

Your heart swelled, chest tightening in the best way possible.

“Do you know how hard it is?” he mumbled, taking a step back, “I can’t stand this anymore. I can’t. I’m sorry–”

“No,” your hand shot out and latched to his wrist, fingers tightening against his skin and holding him back from leaving. Gold-specked eyes widened, staring at you with yearning, “You don’t get to leave me here, not like this.”

Jayce watched as tears brimmed in your eyes, a smile creeping onto your lips. Beaming under the evening sun and glowing so beautifully, as if you were both earthly and divine–transcending. You were too good for this world, too good for him.

“Don’t make me stay if I can’t have you,” he whispered, voice fragile as it broke like glass.

Then your lips were on his, a gentle touch that eased every worry that dared to destroy his mind with heartbreak. It planted a seed of hope deep in his heart, one that would blossom too quickly and strongly. All because it was you who did it, the one he’d longed for all these years.

“Then stay,” you murmured against his lips, answered only by strong arms wrapped tightly around your waist with no intention of letting you go.

[koalapastries-writes]

I'M ONE OF THE GUYS

formula one x trans!male!driver!reader

request: how the fia would react to to y/n as a driver (or any of the drivers) almost being arrested in a country where it's illegal to be trans/gay ... that being a whole thing and the driver almost being kicked out of the race that weekend but doesn't and as a big f u to all the transphobic people running the race, they win the race that weekend - @moonandstarshyuck

summary: who gets arrested and then wins a race in f1? you.

warnings: swearing, transphobia, very minor suggestive content, very minor mention of oscar x reader, mentions of the fia and liberty media being assholes

face claim: faceless but uses pictures of other drivers + includes old/inaccurate photos for the plot lol, reader's team is inconsistent

fia.official

liked by pierregasly, f1, and 37,381 others

fia.official Statement regarding the events that occurred this morning.

tagged f1, youruser

                comments

user1 he got arrested???

user2 right? like what for???

user3 guys it's qatar, it's probably because he's trans

user4 HE'S TRANS???

user5 @/user4 you didn't know? bro is NOT secret about it?

user6 what do you mean he's not doing the sprint?

user7 the fia when a trans driver is subject to bigoted harassment: let's punish the driver! liked by youruser

user8 lmao y/n liked he's pissed

user9 oh he's gonna EAT this weekend i just know it

youruser

liked by lancestroll, logansargeant, and 1,258,770 others

youruser landed in doha! oh yeah, and i got arrested :))))

                comments

user10 he's so unserious help 😭

alex_albon what's with the last slide???

youruser idk it felt like an appropriate reaction

user11 y/n gets arrested and makes it the whole grid's problem

user12 he's so real for that i fear

user13 oh i am thinking Thoughts about y/n in handcuffs

"what do you mean the fia want me to drop out of the race?" you exclaimed, staring at your manager in disbelief. "they're too chicken shit to kick me out so they want me to drop out? fuck no."

"y/n, consider it, it's for your own safety—"

"bullshit, it is! they don't like that i'm trans and this just gives them a reason to get rid of me," you argued.

your manager sighed. she was used to you and your ... stubborn nature. of course, she understood your frustration. it was far from fair for the sport officials to try to kick you out when you were the victim. but sometimes, just sometimes, she wished you'd pick your battles a little more.

"so that's a no, then?"

"damn fucking right it is," you said, already leaving to get ready for quali, which you were now very nearly late for because the fia hadn't allowed you to participate in free practice or the sprint. "i'm racing. if they want to stop me, they have to do it themself. i refuse to be a doormat."

you were a good racer and a good driver, regardless of the situation, but it was impossible to deny that you were fiercer when you were pissed off. everyone talked about charles and max and even fernando being track terrors. usually, you were calm and collected and mostly flew under the radar no matter how well you did.

but this race?

there was no radar. there was just you.

qualifying p7 after not knowing if you'd even be allowed to race half an hour prior. the whole race had been a mix of daring overtakes, aggressive but fair battles, and a few shitty strategy decisions from your team. after a late pit stop that very nearly cost you the race, you managed to overtake oscar for the win.

f1

liked by kimi.antonelli, sebastianvettel, and 1,781,926 others

f1 Y/N L/N WINS IN QATAR!!!

After a rocky weekend and numerous distractions, Y/N proves once again that he belongs on the top step of the podium!

#F1 #Formula1 #QatarGP

tagged youruser

                comments

user14 KING SHIT

user15 who gets arrested and then wins a grand prix

user16 Y/N L/N, everyone 👏

user17 he's insane

user18 user17 he's an icon is what he is liked by youruser

user19 "rocky weekend" HE GOT ARRESTED

user20 not f1 posting this like they didn't try to get y/n to drop out of the race-

youruser

liked by jensonbutton, francolapinto, and 2,938,567 others

youruser say it louder, optimus prime

                comments

mercedesamgf1 y/n please take this down - toto

youruser no ❤️

user21 DADDY CHILL HE'S ONE OF THE GUYS

youruser fia.official f1

user22 oh he's MESSY messy

user23 i mean i'd be pissed too. they tried to make him drop out of the race. liked by youruser, lewishamilton, charles_leclerc, and others

oscarpiastri mega drive mate 💪

youruser thank you for recreating the fourth slide and drowning me😑

oscarpiastri youruser you know you liked it

user24 youruser on a mission to turn the whole grid gay

user25 the random mika/michael pic he's just like us fr

maxverstappen1 usually i'd be mad about the second photo but i think i'll let you have it this week

youruser like you could stop me any other week

f1 admin is very sorry ...?

fia.official seconded 🙇‍♂️

user26 i don't even follow f1 but i might start watching because y/n is unfairly cool for a man who drivers fast cars in wonky circles

youruser vroom vroom

user27 HELP

©koalapastries :: please do not copy or rewrite my work on any platform !!

author's note: first smau! hope you like it 🫶 partially inspired by the ve'ondre remix of it girl lol

comments + reblogs appreciated!

credits: @/cafekitsune for the dividers + photos from pinterest!

taglist: @raizelchrysanderoctavius @crispysoup318 @op-81-lvr-reblogs

[arc-misadventures]

Advice For The Heartbroken

: Oh? Hello, Jaune.

Jaune: Hello, Mrs... Miss Schnee. I'd offer my condolences, but I don't think you'd truly care for that.

Willow: No, not at all.

Jaune: I will say you are looking better; you, and this house seems more lively. Like a new wave of fresh air has blown in.

Willow: Yes, the oppressive aura that, Jacques carried about him has been lifted, bring life to my family, and house. Speaking of looking better; I must say I like your new outfit; Is that a, Specialist uniform?

Jaune: Ahh... yes... Yes it is. I recently became a member of the, Specialist as of, Winter's recommendations.

Willow: Oh congratulations, Jaune! That uniform suit you perfectly.

Jaune: Thank you, Misses Schnee.

Willow: Please, Jaune I already told you, you can call me, Willow. No more of this, Misses Schnee business.

Jaune: Alright then... Willow...

Willow: see, that wasn't too hard. Now then, please take a seat, I assume you're here not because of your new position. Perhaps about the odd circumstances around, Jacques's suspicious death?

Jaune: Thank you... and, uhhh no. I'm not aware of anything in regards to, Jacques's death, and the investigation. I'm a, Huntsman, not a detective.

Willow: Thought I should ask, Winter is unable to tell me anything. Something about the: 'Confidentiality pertaining to the ongoing investigation pertaining to the suspicious death of, Jacques Schnee.'

Jaune: In essence: No.

Willow: Precisely~!

Willow: Now then, since you are not here to talk about, Jacques death, what can I help you with, Jaune?

Jaune: Well... Since you mentioned, Winter... I need some help with her...

Willow: Oh, what is wrong? Did my daughter do something to you?

Jaune: Uhhh... kinda...?

Willow: Kinda... what?

Jaune: Winter likes me...

Willow: So? You are a well mannered, polite, respectable young man. There is very little to hate about you, Jaune. So of course she likes you.

Jaune: Uhhh... Winter likes me... As in like-likes me...

Willow: ...

Willow: S-Seriously...?

Jaune: She's blushed in front of me. She's laughed with me, not at me. She's smiled at me. She gave me this sash on my waist. And, I swear on my mother's life; she winked, and said 'tee-hee' at me!

Willow: Holy shit... Winter does like-like you... I can't believe this...

Jaune: Neither can I?

Willow: I picked a wrong time to stop drinking...

Willow: Okay... you have my permission.

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Wha...?

Willow: You have permission to date my daughter.

Jaune: Oh... thank you... B-But, that isn't why I'm here... kinda...?

Willow: Oh? Then what is it, Jaune?

Jaune: I have... absolutely no experience when it comes to romance. If you ask, Weiss about my attempts to, 'whoo' her, you'd whinge in shame at my antics...

Willow: Yes, I do believe I remember hearing, Weiss complaining about that.

Jaune: ...

Jaune: I... I like, Winter... I'm not entirely sure how much I care for her, but I know I do care for, Winter... If there is a possibility of us having a relationship, I want to try... I don't want to miss this chance... not again... So, I came to you to... ask for advice.

Willow: Advice? Why me, couldn't you ask one of your friends for advice?

Jaune: Ha! Ruby has no experience when it comes to love. Weiss, has poor taste in men, and we have that whole history together, not to mention it's about her sister! I can't possibly talk about this with her.

Willow: That would be an ill-advised endeavor to take.

Jaune: Nora, and Ren are out of the question. Nora is pinning for, Ren so hard she might as well become a pine tree. And, people call me dense?! They should take a look at, Ren! A woman is literally fawning over him, and he doesn't see a damn thing!

Willow: Oh, she liked him, I never notice...

Jaune: Don't even get me started on, Blake, and Yang's thing.

Willow: Oh please do, I do love gossip~!

Jaune: Oh, that's right, woman love to gossip; My mother, and sisters love to gossip too.

Jaune: Okay... Blake, and Yang are stuck in this will they won't they situation upon which I don't think they should, because dating, Blake would end up being a part of a very toxic relationship. I mean... Blake is a coward, she has a habit of running away from her problems, and dumping them on others, and refusing to take the blame. Not to mention her past dating experience is horrible! Her first lover was Adam Taurus! A psychotic race supremist terrorist! And, a fanatical lesbian who like, Adam, tried to kill her!

Willow: Oh~? Now isn't this juicy~!

Jaune: Yang has abandonment issues! Her mother abandoned her when she was a child! It would destroy her if, Blake ran away, again! My sister is a lesbian who is married. and in a loving relationship. I told them about, Blake, and Yang, and they looked horrified at the thought of the two of them dating. Not, because its a human, and faunas relationship, because they know how toxic it could be!

Willow: Oh my~! Even the lesbians are looking down on them~! Now things are getting interesting~!

Jaune: Since I don't get involved in their conversations, I just observe. And, I don't like what I'm seeing... Is there a chance they get together, yes. Is there a chance it will be a healthy relationship, maybe... But, I wouldn't bet money on it.

Willow: Ohh~! It's so much fun hearing all the juicy gossip! I feel like I'm a teenager again~!

Jaune: So... I said, I have no experience with dating, so I've come to you for advice. I know you had a toxic relationship with your ex-husband...

Willow: That's an understatement...

Jaune: But, even before that there must have been moments that were happy? Or, the very least you can tell me the does, and don'ts of a relationship. Mostly the don'ts all thing considered...

Willow: ...

Jaune: I know you didn't have a good relationship... But, of everyone I know... You're the only one I can ask.

Willow: Couldn't you ask your sister? She's married after all.

Jaune: Yeah, I ask my sister how she got together with her wife, and...

Willow: She has no idea how it happened?

Jaune: No clue whatsoever.

Willow: Wo you came to me for advice.

Jaune: Yeah, I did.

Willow: Listen, Jaune... I do not understand my daughter well enough to give you advice when it comes to having a relationship with her. I estranged myself from my children when I escaped, Jacque's abuse to the bottle. I am in the middle of trying to rebuild our relationship. I'm learning who my children are, and plan to become. So, I can't tell you what you could do to enter a relationship with her... But, if what you said is true, that if you're making my daughter laugh, and smile. Then you should be together, or at the very least, give it a chance. And, don't regret not taking the chance.

Jaune: ...

Jaune: I don't want to lose that chance again...

Willow: Again?

Jaune: Okay... for now I'll just play it by ear, and see where it will take me... hopefully somewhere nice... Thank you, Willow.

Willow: My pleasure, Jaune. I hope the best for you two. I wouldn't mind you becoming my son in law.

Jaune: O-Oh... Thank you... Now, I best get going there is work to be done.

Willow: Do, Say hello to, Whitely before you leave. He's been wanting to talk to you again.

Jaune: Oh? I'll go do that. Goodbye, Willow.

Willow: Goodbye, Jaune.

Willow: ...

Willow: I wish you the best of luck, Jaune...

[kesaluliloveyou]

This is something I’ve definitely thought about in my Enma self-ship, just because the boy gets scraped up, bruised, and hurt so much. Part of it is bullying, but I also do think he’s just normally someone very uncoordinated and accident prone. I’ve always been the one to bandage up hurt friends, so this habit starts way back when that’s all we are to each other. I’ll notice some new, fresh injury, I’ll sigh and ask what happened that time. While he’s telling me, I carefully examine the injury, wash it, and take care of it as needed – maybe it’s a cut that needs to be rinsed, to have Polysporin put on it, and then to have it be bandaged up. Maybe it’s a bigger issue, where I have to stitch up the wound or reset a broken nose. Every time, after I fix it up, because I’m used to doing so with the younger kids and with other friends, I always kiss an area near the injury that isn’t going to hurt him, grin at him, and then go ‘There, kisses all better.’ While it makes him stutter and stumble the first couple times I do it, it just becomes a thing I do to him.

Or at least, that’s what I assume it is – just a weird little quirk of mine that he puts up with and that sometimes makes him smile. Until one day, when I hurt myself in one of the very stupid ways that I tend to, and my hand is now dripping blood. I’m kind of cradling it to my chest and hurrying in to just do a quick rinse of my sliced palm. Enma sees me and though he freaks out a little, he makes me sit down while he tries his best to take care of the wound. Does he do the best job of it? No, it’s kind of a clumsily done, messy job. But is he trying so hard to take care of me? Yes and it’s so damn sweet that my heart is almost hurting because like…what did someone like me do to deserve that level of care? I can’t say much while he does it, but what really kills my heart, in the best of ways? After he’s all done with his patching me up, he gently turns my hand kind of sideways and just lightly pecks the side of my hand nearest to where I was hurt, smiles at me in that way that makes it impossible not to smile back, and says ‘there, kisses all better.’

Imagine your f/o kissing a small wound. Maybe it's a tiny bruise, a paper cut, or you slightly pinched yourself. Your f/o gives a sweet, delicate peck to the area before smiling wide. "All better?"

[farahgzza]

I am sorry Sophie I am sorry bisso I can't protect you from death !!🦜🐈

I told you i would love you forever.. but forever wasn’t long enough for us.. i miss u both of you

Have you ever told me about your pets? I would be a great listener, because I have suffered the bitterness of losing them, I have seen their bodies when they became lifeless bodies.

Please tell me how you treat your cat? How do you feed her with your love? How do you play with her? How do you pamper her? Will you be better than me at doing this with Sophie and bisso?

I raised them together for more than five years, they were like my children, I was afraid for them from everything, oh my God, I can't believe how I lost them, when the occupation army raided us and forced us to leave our home, I ran quickly to take them, so I took them with me and we fled the place and went to the sea, the weather was very, very cold and suddenly, without warning, the gunboats started to bombard us with fire and I screamed at my brothers and we fled the place quickly, I went, quickly to the tent where I put my cat and my bird, to see that the shrapnel had filled their bodies.

I sat trying to get the iron out of them even though they were dead but I had only some hope that they were alive. The bombing intensified and we had to rush out of the place, but I didn’t even bury their bodies. Every time I see their pictures I cry a lot.

I sit with myself just remembering all the moments that these two little ones suffered with me, my beloved cat and bird, oh my God I miss you, I remember when we were displaced in Rafah, my mother, my brothers and I, we didn’t have money to buy food for ourselves at all, and the bird hadn’t eaten for two days, so I went in the streets of Rafah in all the places looking for any man who sells bird food, and after I found a man selling their food at a very high price I was very happy about that but suddenly I remembered that I didn’t have money and I returned to my mother and with difficulty I got money and returned to the man and bought food and fed him, I could bear the suffering but I couldn’t bear to see them suffer because they had nothing to do with this damned war .

Now I look at my family and draw their pictures well in my imagination and try to get enough of them, because at any moment I might lose them because of this war, at any moment I might lose them just like I lost Sophie and bisso .

At any moment, the same suffering may happen to me again and I may lose someone dear to my heart. I cannot guarantee that the one I love will be around me.

For this reason, I will not forgive anyone who can donate a small amount to help me and my family get out and does not do so !!!

For this I will not forgive, and for all the moments I felt the bitterness of loss, I will not forgive anyone who could donate or share and did not do so.

✅️Vetted by @gazavetters , my number verified on the list is ( #283 )✅️

@skateher @awetistic-things

@night-eclipses @baby--veins

@friendshaped

@mangocheeseships

@commissions4aid-international

@90-ghost @sayruq @sar-soor

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@determinate-negation

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@three-croissants

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@briarhips @bunnie-the-idiot @commissions4aid-international @doug-dimmadumb @girlinafairytale

@halalchampagnesocialist

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@laurapalmerss

@rhubarbspring @riding-the-wavez @s8n66 @thoughtkick @tacit-semantics @queerstudiesnatural

[icarusredwings]

Thinking about how despite being Pete's sussy guy friend, he still very much IS his friend. Wade is the type of bro to joke about dicks all the time but when the time comes, he is genuinely one of Peter's friend.

Sure, Wade tells Logan about the sparing, he tells him about patrol, and he tells him about Vinnies pizzaria even where they have their meet ups without the masks.

What Wade doesn't tell him is how tight he holds him when theye both bloody or bruised from their fights, whether against one another or a common enemy.

He doesn't tell him how they've made it a game where they can be talking on a building, and if Wade 'falls off,' Peter webs him back up and scolds him to knock it off.

He doesn't tell him that he can't believe how much Peter genuienly believes in him. He can't understand why someone so good and someone so smart would ever want to be friends with him.

He doesn't tell Logan that being around Peter makes him feel like a way better person, and how being apart from him for long emphasizes their differences, making him feel worse about himself.

He doesn't tell Logan that each time there's a little angel on his shoulder? It's Peter.

Do you know why he doesn't tell Logan? He already knows. It doesn't take telepathy to see this, and with how hyper aware Logan is, he learned all of this within a month- probably less.

Logan just comes back to the apartment to see both Wade and Peter with their suits ripped up and Peter, specifically with a bloody nose and a bruise on his abdomen. They're just.. sitting there. Holding each other so gently yet so tight that Peter is bassically in his lap, dead weighted against him, They're silent.

"Hey.."

"Hey... rough day." Is all Wade mutters, looking like he needs a nap.

"Heh.. what, kid? You fail a math test or something?" Logan tries to joke but Peter just kind of looks at him confused.

".....I'm 28..."

"And a Biochemist." Wade adds in, letting his body rest fully against the couch with a big sigh.

"Oh.." Logan says. "Well... Does the Biochemist want a tissue? He's bleeding all over you.."

Wade's hand just comes up to point at himself. "Red suit.. meant for bleeding..."

"Right.. you guys want a beer?"

"Yeeess... god, see? I told you he was the best." Wade mutters under his breath and Peter just scoffs. "You told me a billion things about him, whats your point?"

"My point- Is....." there's a long pause. "That we got our asses handed to us today...By robots. Still don't know why we couldn't just shoot'em."

Peter then groans as if he's already explained this 60 times, sitting up just long enough to take the beer. "Thanks-"

"No problem, Now scoot over."

"-but anyway, if we shot them, they would explode and put tons of lives in danger because of the automatic protocol system."

"So?"

"Wade-"

"Yeah yeah... save it for my next lecture.." he waves his hand, taking a sip of his and then reached out to clink his bottle with Logans.

"To saving the city... one god damn robot at a time..fuck this would be so much easier if Stark was alive.."

#hero-ingishard

[bloggerspam]

"I think I'm going insane."

Val jumps, almost bumping her head up against the underside of the car above her, at the sudden sound of Steph's voice echoing in the garage.

It's been about an hour since Jay finally got Danny's reply texts. He left, now assured that Danny was awake and understood it was a misunderstanding, to hopefully ask Danny out.

"Insane?" Val echoes, rolling out on the creeper until she can sit up, grabbing a rag to clear up the grease all over her arms as best she can.

Jay had told her to go home, along with the rest of the mechanics, but in his rush he had left a broken down Mazda leaking so she wasn't exactly going to just leave it like that.

Plus, she's gonna be staying far away from the apartment until she's 100% it's all clear. Maybe crash Sam and Tuck's hotel room, stay with them just in case.

"Insane," Steph confirms, looking like some kind of art piece leaning on Jay's work table across the room, "Y'know, like that Einstein quote."

"I'm not sure I follow," Val scrunches up her nose, thoroughly confused. She gets up, tossing the rag and heading towards her sudden guest.

She's technically not allowed to be doing these types of repairs, considering she lacks the certifications, but she thought she might as well finish it up for Jay to look over tomorrow before heading home, so the timing of the other girl's visit is at least perfect.

Steph watches her as she twirls a finger through her hair, pretty blue eyes half lidded and pouting with her very kissable lips. Val looks away to focus on clearing up her workspace.

"Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results." Steph quotes, and oh, right. Conversation was happening.

"Actually," Val starts, slipping the top part of her coveralls off and wiping her face and thoroughly ruining the white teeshirt she's got under, "Rita Mae Brown said that quote. Well, wrote it in her book."

She realizes a little too late that that might sound too condescending, so she course corrects, "But anyway, what are you doing that's making you insane?"

She turns to look at Steph, jumping once more at how close Steph suddenly is. Val's backed up against her work table, Steph looming over her with all of her 3 inch height advantage. A metal tool falls over the side of the table, Val's not sure which one, from the resulting bump.

They stare at each other, Val profusely thanking any and all Gods, Ancients, whatever Higher Beings out there that her dark skin makes it harder to see if she's blushing. Not that it helps when Val's probably staring at Steph's mouth like a loon.

A long moment passes, Val somehow finding it within her to tear her eyes away from the other girl's mouth—did she mention how kissable they looked?—and staring somewhere off to the side, confused.

"Flirting, Val!" Steph groans, throwing her hands up and stalking away to pace back and forth, "I've been flirting with you since we've met!"

"What? No." Val says, scoffing, "I'd notice if you were flirting with me."

Steph gives her a look that promises some kind of spar in the future that will cause Val to possibly lose feeling in all her limbs. Val shivers at it, sure that something's wrong with her if that turns her on, as she watches the blonde take off her jacket and prowl forward towards her.

"You're so fucking stupid." Steph says, the profanity of it shocking Val enough that she doesn't react when the other girl fists a hand into her shirt to pull her forcefully towards her into a searing, almost painful kiss.

Val feels like she's having an out of body experience, like lights have blinded her. But Steph's lips are soft, her hands are holding Val's hips, her body is pressing up against Val's and Val's definitely been stupid because they could have been doing this the whole god damn time.

But she kisses back, and that's all that matters. She kisses back, and somehow her body knows how to do the rest.

Her hands trail up Steph's biceps, feeling the soft cotton of the sleeves, trailing up to drape over the other girl's neck. She tilts he head to get the angle a little better, tiptoeing just a bit to make up the distance. The kiss isn't urgent, despite the sudden nature of it. The kiss, kisses, are soft, reaching, insistent. Small little things that cumulate one on top of the other, breathing into each other's spaces, bodies trying to melt into one another.

Steph's hands roam up towards the small of her back, Val arching at the feeling of it, and Steph must like that because she moans into her mouth like it hurts. Between one breath and the next, tongues are involved, and Steph tastes divine.

It's enough to make Val lose it. Her hands trail back down to Steph's waist, bunching up the fabric as she clutches the other girl closer. It frees up space for Steph to loop her long arms around Val's neck this time, gives Val the opening she needs.

She grips tight, spinning them around and lifting Steph onto the table. The other girl graciously makes room to accommodate Val's bulk, long legs wrapping around Val's waist as her hands trail down to trace the seams of the rough denim of the other girl's jeans.

Steph pulls Val down with the arms around her neck as she leans back and what is Val to do but respond? Her hands end up gripping Steph's thighs, and the heat of her is intoxicating. It's like Val's burning from the inside out, flames licking at the roof of her mouth and trickling down her throat, pooling in her stomach and radiating a heat that threatens to melt her.

And yet still, still, the heat of Steph consumes her.

Val detaches from the other girl now, to take a moment in the steamy haze. She braces one hand on the table below them, giving her abs a much needed break from hovering over the other girl, and just breathes.

Steph is beautiful.

Val stands over her, splayed over her work table like a vision from a dream straight from some romance era painting that Val could never hope to conjure up in her most fantastical dreams. Milky white skin, pearl blue eyes, a flush that Val wants to follow helplessly with her lips, her tongue, her fingers. Her blonde hair fans out around her like a halo, scrunched and mussed and silky and beautiful.

Val was already breathless from the kissing, but now it feels like the entire room has deprived her of air.

"You're beautiful." Val breathes out with the last of her oxygen. It's worth it. It's so worth it.

Steph, who had been half lidded and dazed, quirks a soft smile. Her entire body seems to soften with it, muscles loose and arms still lazily looped around Val's neck, squeezing just a little bit, a quick little hug.

"You're not so bad yourself, you know." Steph whispers back, voice husky as she brings a hand to trace over Val's cheek, her brow. She leans up to give Val a soft peck on her cheek, and the tingles of it warm her, makes her close her eyes to lean her forehead down onto Steph's, to breathe her air, to share space.

"As nice as this is," Val starts, "I want to be clear…I don't want this to just be a fling."

If her relationship with Danny taught her anything, it was that communication was important.

"I like you, Val. I want to get to know you more, date a little." She pauses, smiles a wry smile, "Or at least, go on dates and have you know they're dates too. Maybe…girlfriends? In the future?"

Relief and embarrassment floods through her. "Yeah, yeah that sounds great. And uh, sorry. For, y'know, bein' stupid."

She curls down to bring Steph into a hug, lifting her a bit to make room for her arms against the hard wood of the table below, burying her face into the space where Steph's neck and shoulder meet, laying a kiss as gently as she can to the place she rests.

She feels the shiver that wracks through Steph from the action, feels the way her legs tighten around her, and Val breathes and breathes and breathes her in, clutching tighter.

"You're forgiven. Besides," Steph sniffs, "I wasn't going to let you take me here and now. I'm classier than that."

Val chokes on a laugh, muffling it into the other girl's shoulder. "Wouldn't have been hygienic anyway." Val wiggles a hand out, showing off the grease and oil, "Sorry about the shirt. And pants."

"I can't complain." Steph laughs, and it lights Val up. "I was the one who jumped you, after all."

"Serves you right." Val mumbles as she wraps her arm back around the other girl, causing another precious laugh.

"Can I touch your hair?" Steph's hands are rubbing her back up and down now, migrating shyly up to the back of her neck.

"Yeah, 'course." Val mumbles, trying her damnedest to become a part of the lovely girl beneath her.

Delicately, Steph seems to fiddle with her hair, as if twirling a finger through each dread, one by one.

It's a long peaceful moment before Steph breaks the silence again.

"Now that we've established that you're a moron," Her tone is soft and sweet despite the words, "and that I'm clearly moron-sexual…" Val snorts, causing Steph to whack her on the back of the shoulder lightly for the interruption.

"Wanna get some ice cream?" Val lifts up, loathe as she is to separate from the blonde, beaming, "My treat."

Steph rewards her with a smile so soft, a lovely little thing, as she curls up to give her a kiss on the cheek and whisper her answer into Val's ear.

"Thought you'd never ask."

Mechanic!Val AU, but make it gay and sapphic.

ya'll can thank the HH discord for this one. Specifically the menace known as @clockwayswrites (and @impyssadobsessions for the art that inspired the damn thing)

Dead on Main and with some future Val/Steph >)

also @belfry-ghost did a doodle for this AU and everyone should go love on his art. Val's so unf.

===

Val’s pretty sure her new boss Jay is actually a crime lord.

She’s pretty sure he’s The Crime Lord, actually. She’s like, 98% sure she works for Red Hood now, and she’s low key mad about it. She squints at the man now, with his white streak and almost imperceptible green sheen to his eyes. 

The problem is that Val did perceive it. Because she used to date a guy whose baby blue eyes changed ever so slightly in the same way. Thinking about Danny makes her even madder.

To be clear, she’s not mad about Red Hood himself. 

She’s just mad that, of all the mechanic shops in all of Crime Alley, she just had to work for her ex-boyfriend’s third place Hall Pass pick. It also makes her miss her friends way more, and Val is hardly what one would call a well-adjusted woman, so she’s mad about it.

She huffs as she lifts the hood of the second car she’s working on today. Being a mechanic wasn’t really on the docket for Val’s life goals, nor was being in Gotham, but she got a full ticket ride on Wayne Foundation scholarships, and honestly? 

Gotham is Amity Park Lite: Gargoyles and Furries Edition. 

Between a full ride to Gotham U and being stuck at Elmerton Community College? The choice was easy. 

So here she is, working for the resident Crime Lord in his civvies. 

Jay pays good, teaches her what she needs to know, and bonus: he sometimes helps with her English Literature class. He’s flexible on hours, and she’s even got rudimentary insurance. 

All in All?  It could be worse—she could still be working for Vlad, after all. 

It's the little things.

[profundcherrylady]

SINGLE DAD!SAE ITOSHI

A/N: This isn't my usual content, but I was thinking about this scenario and I had huge baby fever so I couldn't NOT write it. I love Sae too much y'all. Also sorry for any spelling mistakes english ain't my first language.

Warnings: Mentions of death and grieving, Sae tries forcing his daughter to either eat her vegetables or go to school hungry (he doesn't go through with it)(this is a very brief scene but it could still be triggering to some people). STILL MOSTLY FLUFF I SWEAR.

Contents: Sae being a girl dad fr, y'all can't change my mind on this one, also Rin being an uncle. That's pretty much it. A little ooc (Rin mostly)

"Papaaaa" Mao complained, her voice echoing across the house and making Sae drop the dishes he was washing and walk across the house into her room to see what was going on... this time. Although he had a pretty good idea given her recent tantrums.

"Can't sleep?" he inquired, but he knew the answer as soon as she saw her curling up in her little bed and pouting, her doe teal eyes looking up to him as if to give him pity. "No, Mao, you cannot come sleep in my room."

"Why not?!"

"You've already been sleeping there all week... come on, you're a big girl, you can sleep on your own room."

"But I wanna be with you..." he sighed. It had seemed she had inherited his stubbornness, because sometimes it felt like there was just no way of making her change her mind when she was set on something. He leaned against the door a little, thinking about what to say that may change her mind.

"I know I was away for a while the last couple of weeks and I understand you missed me, but I can't have this conversation with you every single night."

"Why do you go away in the first place..."

"You know why, I have to for work." he countered, "And do not ask me why I can't bring you along, we've talked about this countless of times before. I don't go away for fun. If I bring you with me, you'll want to go everywhere with me and then you'll get fussy and mad because I'll be working all the time, or worse, you'll get bored to death in the hotel. Believe me, staying here is best for you when I go on business trips."

"But I just wanna be with you!!" his eye almost twitched in annoyance at the sight; he knew that tone of voice all too well. It was another tantrum coming his way, but still, he tried to remain calm for her sake.

"You're with me now."

"So can I sleep in your room?"

"No." then she threatened to start crying. He let out a low, defeated huff, holding back the urge to roll his eyes. She just wasn't giving up, was she? Pushing himself off the doorframe, he looked back at her before speaking. "Fine. Come on."

"This is the last time." he knew damn well that was a fat lie, but he still had to at least pretend to be firm. She would grow up to be a spoiled child otherwise, or at least that's what he was used to tell himself.

The little girl beamed, quickly jumping out of bed and running towards her father. She hopped with her arms up towards him asking to be carried, to which he complied. He wrapped his arms around her small frame and lifted her up, watching as she clung onto him as if he just came back from war or something. Could he really blame her, though? She had lost her mother and he was away all the time; it would be strange if she wasn't feeling lonely.

"Papa, sing me a song." Sae reconsidered his life decisions for a moment there, not gonna lie, but how could he honestly say no to those pleading eyes?

"Fine..." he sighed, his voice soft and low as he began humming whatever song he could think of on the top of his head. Still keeping a secure hold on her, Sae began rocking his daughter to further lure her to sleep. He held her with one arm so that he could close the door of her room, the soft click assuring him that everything was in order, and then started walking a few steps towards his.

By this point, little Mao was sound asleep on his arms, and he almost chuckled at the thought of his daughter refusing to sleep until she was with him. He carefully opened the door a few meters away and walked quitely to the bed, trying his best to not wake up the sleeping child on his arms, and set her down to rest. Once tucked in and comfortable, he let out a sigh of relief. Finally, the brat was asleep and he could be at peace. She could be so clingly and energetic sometimes... not that he cared that much, even though her restlessness was exhausting, it showed that she felt safe and loved enough to be her enthusiastic self around him without any regrets.

It was weird to him, like an unfamiliar sense of pride that surged at the sight of her young daughter bouncing around and playing endlessly. He would often look at her and think about how different her personality was from his, and how much it reminded him of her mother. Sae tried not to though, as he despised comparing his daughter to his late wife over and over again, but sometimes he just couldn't help it. From the way she smiled to the color of her hair... they were just so alike each other. He still kept all the memories from her close to his heart, which in a way made him feel guilty. Sae knew just how much his daughter yearned for a maternal figure; someone to talk to and educate her about girly stuff that he may not understand. He would watch her staring at the other kids with their moms and act like it really wasn't a big deal to avoid making him feel like he wasn't enough, but Sae knew better. It was obvious to him that his daughter absolutely adored him, and he was sure she thought he was enough, but he also knew that she missed having a mom. She missed her mom. He missed her mom too.

Normally he would avoid talking about it. It had been hard enough trying to explain to this small child that her mom wasn't coming home that night, or ever, let alone process his own grief at the loss of the only woman he once loved. If he cried, he had to do it when his daughter wasn't looking, because the last thing he needed to add to his worries was worrying his daughter to the point of avoiding everything that may set off a bad mood on him. It wasn't her fault, he just felt his heart break everytime he took her home and she pointed at a framed picture of her mom exclaiming 'Mama!' Or 'Hey mama', 'I'm back, mama', 'Miss you, mama'. He would hold back his tears and take a deep breath whenever she tried asking if she could visit her mom in the place she was at (as he initially had told her it was a place where she couldn't come back), having to explain carefully that she couldn't. She would get mad and ask why a bunch of times, but he didn't have the heart to tell her 'She's dead' straight up. He really tried to just give her an excuse like that she was sleeping forever or something, as if she was in the sleeping beauty, but then she just began asking if a true love kiss from him would wake her up. She was a child, after all, and she hadn't quite grassped the concept of death yet.

He let himself watch her sleep for a few moments, sinking in the stillness of the night. Taking care of a young child made this moments rare, and he treasured whatever rest he could get. He reached out to the nightstand and picked up the heater remote, pressing a couple of buttons to turn it on a bit; just enough to keep the room warm, as he knew nights at that time of the year could become fairly cold and he didn't want his daughter getting sick. And as expected, she got very evidently more comfortable as the room became warmer, falling into a deeper state of sleep. She had only carried her favorite bunny plushie from her room to hold onto and apparently that was all she needed to fall asleep. He plopped himself onto the bed as well and fell asleep almost instantly from the exhaustion of the day, not even caring about closing the door or the half-washed dishes he left on the sink or even the fact that he hadn't even changed his clothes. He was DONE for the day.

Although, the next day he most definitely regretted it.

He had to wake up early and finish cleaning all the mess his daughter had left throughout the day, plus now he had to make breakfast, wake her up and get her to school. Sae was a rather organized person and he would normally not find himself in this type of situation, but it seemed like ever since he became a father he was running short of time for everything no matter how much he tried to plan in advance.

"Morning." Sae greeted his still somewhat sleepy child as she yawned and climbed the chair infront of her to eat. "Slept well?"

"Mhm..." Mao mumbled, rubbing her eyes with one arm while she still clung to her favorite plushie with the other. He placed a plate on the table for her and then one for him, along with his usual morning coffee and the only damned brand of juice that she liked for some reason and that he had to drive for an hour to buy.

"Come on, eat. You have preschool today."

"Can't I skip? It's snowing so muuuuch." the kid dropped her head onto the table and sighed, clearly displeased about going to school.

"Apparently it's not snowing enough to cancel your classes. Now, please, eat."

He watched intently as his daughter took a close look at the food, pouting and feeling now rather down since she wasn't allowed to skip school. She took a couple of bites of her breakfast and she had a few sips of her juice, then she pushed her plate a little to indicate she was done.

"Thanks for the food." she was about to get off the table when she was interrupted by her father's stern voice.

"Not so fast. There is no way you're full with just that."

"Yeah I am..." such an obvious lie.

"Why aren't you eating? And I want the truth."

She pouted, AGAIN, before reluctantly giving an answer.

"It has green peppers on it..." and there you have it; this was the real challenge of Sae's day.

"I told you, they're good for you."

"But they're gross! Can I eat something else please?" this is Sae's life now. Even winning a soccer match was easier than getting his daughter to eat her vegetables.

"Mao, I spent a lot of time making breakfast for you, can you please finish your food? You still need to get ready to go to school. I don't have any time to make you more breakfeast; I have to go work."

"But... I really don't like them... please?" that was the last straw for him. He didn't mean to sound cruel, but he was tired and didn't know what else to say.

"Mao Itoshi, you're staying on this table until the last bite of food on your plate is GONE. If you don't, you'll go to school hungry and I'm not making you anything else after I pick you up. You are eating this one way or another." he almost instantly regretted the harsh tone of voice he had used, as he saw his kid's eyes begin watering. He passed his hands through his face in exasperation, took a deep breath, and walked around the table to pick her up. He exhaled, trying his best to remain calm before speaking to her again, as he could feel Mao's tears on his clothes and the little shudders she made at the effort to hold back tears. Sae patted and passed his fingers through his daughter's hair in a poor attempt to soothe her, but the damage was already done. She was holding thay bunny plush in her arms like a lifeline. "Sorry, okay? I didn't mean to be so hard on you. I woke up early to make your breakfast and you just took a few bites of it... I got frustrated, but that wasn't a reason to force you to eat something you don't like. I'm just saying, green peppers aren't the end of the world; they can be tasty."

"I guess I can eat them..." he sighed.

"No, you'll just be eating them out of guilt. You shouldn't do things you don't want to just because you're afraid of someone's bad mood." he thought for a moment. Mao eating the green peppers wasn't the ideal result now, she was hurt and vulnerable and that would only teach her that she should fear and comply which wouldn't end well on the long run... still, he did spend his time making her breakfast and didn't want it to go to waste. "Tell you what. I'll eat the green peppers for today, if you promise you'll at least try them next time, and I'll find another recipe to try to make them taste better. Sound good?" she nodded, still hiding her face from him by pressing it against his clothes. "Good. Now, I really don't have more time to make you more breakfast, so let's pick out the stuff you don't like just this once, and only this one time. I seriously need you to try to learn to eat your vegetables."

"...'kay."

"Let's hurry then; you still need to get ready for school."

Sae for sure was missing having some help on the raising of his daughter. He would never admit it though, he would try and pretend parenting was the easiest thing in the world when in reality he was fighting for his life everyday trying to shape this little human into a good person, and refraining from helping her while she failed at tying her shoe countless of times before admiting she didn't know how to do it (this is why he only buys her velcro).

He left the tiny sparkling pink shoes on the ground as he heard the doorbell, then looked at the clock hanging from the wall nearby. 8:14am, who in the world was it this early? Sae indicated his daughter to stay still on the couch before walking towards the door, and right after seeing the face on the other side he furrowed his eyebrows in surprise.

"Rin? What are you doing here?" his little brother then proceeded to push him aside and step inside as if it were his own house.

"Move, I didn't come here for you." his eyes traveled the room and eventually fell on the little girl sitting on the couch, and in a blink of an eye he had lifted the little girl up and hugged her tightly. Despite her surprise, she could obviously recognize her only favorite uncle.

To everyone's surprise, Rin absolutely adored his niece. Sure he had problems with his older brother but he didn't have to take it out on an innocent child that had done nothing to him. Besides, she was so adorable and bubbly and so NOT like Sae. Rin sometimes would stare at her in amazement, wondering how it was possible that this was truly Sae's spawn; yet the teal eyes and lower lashes were unmistakable. She was an Itoshi alright.

"Umclw Rwin!" her voice came out muffled, as she was currently being burried on his chest, but the sentiment was there.

"What are you doing here?" Sae was straight to the point, not caring about his cold tone of voice this time. And he says he doesn't have favorites.

"I just came back from my morning run." the younger Itoshi explained, still not looking at him in the eye. "Thought I'd stop by to say hello."

"To her."

"Yes, I didn't want to talk to your pathetic-"

"Language."

"Shut up."

"Don't hug her when you're still sweaty and gross, she just took a bath." he continued scolding Rin, earning a groan of frustration from him.

"Your dad is so annoying." his niece giggled at the obvious beef between his dad and uncle. She didn't really understand it but it was funny from her point of view. "Such lukewarm rules he has."

"Lukewarm!" she repeated.

"Rin, stop teaching her those words. Mao, say bye to your uncle; we have to get you to school."

"Awwwwww, can he come with?"

"Fine, whatever will get you to actually go to school. Rin, let's go."

"Don't boss me around." he complained, walking with his niece on his arms towards the door and setting her down. "Let's put on our shoes, shall we?" he took the shoes Sae had set down earlier and helped the kid put them on with ease. Of course, he had dealt with this countless of times before. Sae had the bad habit of using him as a free nanny for whenever he had to travel, which was often.

"Uncle Rin, how do you go running with all this snow? It's so cold!"

"When you run, you sweat and then it doesn't feel so cold." he finished tying the kid's shoelaces and took her by the hand, then Sae picked up a scarf wrapped it carefully around her neck.

"Don't take it off." he warned, watching as she began squirming to get away from the scratchy scarf. "It's cold out, I don't want you getting sick."

"Okay, papa." he gave her a quick kiss on the forehead before taking her free hand and not so subtly making Rin let go of her as he finally opened the front door. They were quickly hit by the cold winter air, and Mao shuddered a little at the sudden change in temperature.

Stil, Sae made sure his hand was holding hers tight and that she kept herself on his field of vision. There would be someday in the future where she wouldn't need him to hold her hand; he had to treasure these moments and not let her go while he still could.

[octopiys]

I fear I've become obsessed with the Honey series

Lost and Found

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iv. dinner de novo

(anon I love you thank you so much <3)

Cw: blood mention

You flit throughout the kitchen as Simon watches from the corner, the noisy buzz of the heat lamp filling the silence.

Simon Riley was not scared of many things. He can't risk fear in high stakes settings that he tends to find himself in. He has to stay strong, be a leader, and think fast.

Simon Riley is.... apprehensive. He wanted to offer help, but he knew that if you set your mind to something, you'd get it done. Anyone in your way would probably be smacked with the nearest spatula. He valued his life, thank you very much.

You had come back in with a handful of herbs that he didn't recognize, and with wet socks. Your heart had been racing, and he was damn well sure it wasn't because of the duck. He knew he'd be foolish to think it was because of dinner tonight.

Now was not the time to ask.

He knew, at some point, hed have to find out. Not that he doesn't want to, he doesn't want to press you into admitting something when you're not ready. When he had found you, weeks ago, scratched up, bruised, and bloody, a fogged up look in your eyes, he knew you had been running. He ran once, too. He knew some things were better left buried.

He knew that once you told him, he probably wouldn't stop until he found the bastard that had dared lay hands on you. His little stray that done more than enough for him, innocent, but not helpless.

Dog lumbers over and sits on his lap, yawning. He spares a glance at his bookshelf. Maybe when he got back from his mission, hed take you to a bookstore. He thinks you'd like that. A good girl like you, cooking him and his best mate dinner, you deserve a reward.

You yelp in the kitchen, metal clattering to the floor, and he's up in an instant, at your side even quicker. Blood pearls on your thumb, the thin slice going deeper than appeared. A tomato lay cut in half, the kitchen knife on the floor, the likely culprit.

Tears pool like diamonds in your eyes and he wants to kiss the salt away to make it better. He huffs lowly under his breath, heart spiking in his chest as he pulls a paper towel off the counter and gently, yet firmly, wraps your thumb.

Before you know it, hes chopping the rest of the tomato so you don't have to. His movements are jerky, unskilled, but the attempt warms your heart.

This is how Simon helps, you think.

The rest of dinner preparation goes by smoothly. By smoothly, you mean, you pick up the next ingredient and utensil, and Simon wordlessly puts out his hands, looking at you with his slightly droopy brown eyes, unrelenting. Your heart beats a little faster in your chest, and you hand them to him. The corners of his mouth pulls up, just the slightest bit, and he turns to the stove, or sink, or whatever you need him to do.

He is under your thumb, he is your whim, he is under your mercy, utterly dedicated and devoted to you. Don't wanna stress his best girl out, he thinks, glancing at you nursing your cut thumb with watery eyes and a nervous voice as you tell him what to do.

When the tomatoes are done, you tell him, they go in the ceramic tray with the onions, oil, paprika, and italian seasoning. It had taken a little while to find the paprika. You're not sure what that says about the store, but honestly, you're too far in now to worry about it. You cut the top off a head of garlic and stick it in there while Simon mixes it up. When he realized you were working while so gravely injured, (really, he's being a little dramatic. You've survived much worse.) he shot you a look, until you glared back at him, and he backed down a little bit. He moves to get the pasta ready to boil, and you cover the tray with aluminum foil.

You're humming to yourself softly as you put the tray in the oven, and bake at 200c (or 400f) for an hour. The salted water rolls to a boil, and you ask Simon to put the pasta in-

"Slowly, Si- I said slowly! Slowly, it's gonna-!" You laugh, tugging him backwards as the water boils over the side as he tries to pour all the pasta in at once. When the water settles, still giggling, you ease him back towards the stove, and show him how to properly add in the pasta. Really, how this man got by before you, you don't know.

When your hour is up, Simon leaps at the chance to take the tray from the oven.

"You'll burn yourself, Honey. Can't have that." He murmurs, flinching slightly at the warm air.

When the pasta is al dente, cooked to your liking, you strain it. Simon adds a few greens, half a lemon's worth of juice, and squishes the roasted garlic into the tray. You gag at the thought of adding coconut milk, so you leave it out. You stir in the pasta- slowly- and the doorbell rings.

Your eyes widen, flashing to the door, before looking at Simon.

"'S just Johnny, honey. Johnny and Peach. 'Member?" He says, voice gentle, hand held out. "I'll plate these up. Can ya get the door for me?"

Your feet are glued to the ground, your mouth is dry. Your eyes flick to the door. He's sure, he's sure it's them? You haven't had any... welcome visitors here.

"Here, I'll go with you. Bastard can plate himself." He snips, and your shoulders ease, taking his hand.

Scraggle is clawing at the door, while Dog sleeps against the couch. Some guard dog. Simon nudges Scraggle out of the way with his foot, before unlocking the door.

Your heart is in your throat.

"I told you he'd open the door!" Peach's loud voice was evident behind the door, followed by a dull *thwack!*

"Oi! I wasnae sayin'- Hi, LT- wasnae sayin' he forgot!" Says Johnny, sounding highly accosted, and slightly dramatic. You see him with a pout on his lips, and Peach's eyes light up when she sees you.

"Aren't ya so pretty? We brought a housewarmin' gift, Hon, hope ya don't mind!" She laughs, and your face flushes warm as she puts flowers in your hands. You glance and see Simon being handed a small bottle of amber liquid, before the two are ushered into the house.

"Ooh, shite, smells lovely, Honey." Johnny says, and you open your mouth to mutter a quiet thanks, before Peach interjects with a, "Language!"

"It- It's really okay," you hum softly. "It's in the kitchen, er- the plates aren't out-"

In the blink of an eye, Simon is opening the cabinet, and tossing a plate at Johnny, and handing one to Peach. Peach hands her plate to you, saying, "Cook gets the first dig!"

You flush, thanking her quietly, as Simon grabs a plate for himself, "accidentally" whacking Johnny over the head with it when he tries to reach for the ladle.

Simon looks.... happy.

You hum, an almost chittering sound, and scoop some pasta onto your plate as your stomach growls. Everyone else plates themselves, and the group migrates to the table.

You look... happy, Simon notes. As soon as the fork touches your tongue, you're shovelling food into your mouth, delighted at the way it turned out, but also ravenous, like you're worried you're never gonna have anything as good ever again.

Under the table from where he sits, Simon rests his hand on your thigh. His pulse beats firm beneath his wrist, and you falter. You take a breath. You don't have to eat like it's your last meal. It's okay. You're safe here, no one is going to judge you.

You smile at him, slightly relieved.

The push and pull of the waves, the horror and euphoria of being known.

This is how Simon loves, you think.

"Nae fookin' wonder yer so eager tae git home, LT-" Johnny practically moans through a mouthful of food. "I would take if Peach here wouldnae burn everythin'-"

"I do not! But oh my gods, Honey, this food is so fuckin' good, you gotta give me your recipe- pardon my language, but..."

She continues talking, playfully arguing with Johnny over a glass of bourbon, and Simon cracks a few laughs. You smile into your water, choking at some joke, and Scraggle screams under your chair for some pasta scraps mother, please, kindly donate a few to a starving Creature, never before eaten, Mother, you Do Not Understand-

You drop a noodle or two, and Scraggle yowls happily.

It feels... peaceful, in your house tonight.

Relaxation eases your shoulders, even after Peach and Johnny leave.

On the couch, you sip a few drops of Simon's bourbon. You don't usually drink, it makes you feel...... nervous, but a sip or two to relax wouldn't kill you. It was rich, smoky almost, and warm down your throat and into your chest.

Winter is coming soon, and the fire glows warmly in embers. Some movie is playing on the telly, and you're curled up against Simon's side. It took him a few moments to realize that you wanted comfort, and even then he asked to make sure. Now, his hand slowly rakes through your hair, gently scratching your scalp. Tingles rise on your arms every once in a while.

At peace.

Your eyes blink slowly, as you snuggle into him.

He doesn't take his eyes off you.

"Simon?" You ask, as if making sure he was still here.

"Yes?"

"Thank you." You say softly, a murmur. His heart quickens just the slightest.

His face is warm. "For what?"

You hum in response, hand drifting down to lightly pet Scraggle, who had fallen asleep right next to the couch, a note carried on by the warmth of the fire.

Your breathing evens out, deepens, and he knows he won't get an answer tonight. That's okay, he thinks.

His phone buzzes.

He yawns, thinking nothing of it, and looks down.

A text from John.

He opens it, rubbing his eyes slightly, before going back to petting your head, before cold flushes down his neck as he reads.

JP: Someone's looking for your girl.

masterlist

A/N: Hello! Thank you guys so much for the love on the past few chapters. I'm so sorry it's been a while since I updated, but I had a lot going on. Luckily, I'm okay and much better now, but I just wanted to let you all know that you're so so so loved! Also, the recipe in here is an actual, functional recipe. If anyone makes it, please let me know! I personally wouldn't add the coconut milk, but to each their own lol. see you next chapter!

[watobu]

esse mutiny duo

answering this ask in specific with an actual thought out thing.

esse mutinyduo is very interesting to me considering all that they are. ( toxic. ) wemmbu actually had a fixation on zam during the time the two were teammates. his mini crush developed into a literal fixation that he didn't voice aloud for zam's comfort, aside from the freaky jokes but that's just wemmbu being wemmbu.

wemmbu was fixated on everything in zam. he memorized his speech patterns, his likes, dislikes, everything. wemmbu loved zam. the two were damn near inseparable because wemmbu didn't know how to give the guy alone time. zam didn't mind this by the way. just saying.

when zam decided to be a cunt and get evil, upon taking wemmbu in, he grew fixated on wemmbu's reactions to the drugging & torment. he liked the reactions, he found programming wemmbu to be interesting.

zam pretty much fixated on wemmbu right back, just not the same way wemmbu fixated on zam. he led wemmbu on, watching as he grew desperate for the mini little crush to be returned back, throughout the years. despite everything, wemmbu still loved zam.

zam has wemmbu wrapped around his finger and will continue to have him wrapped around his finger until the day the server comes crashing in on itself and they explode into code