#but damn that means all the nice edit posts that were in the tag before don't show up either 😣

[justauthoring]

and i wonder... who? [6]

somehow, you find yourself torn between the two hottest guys at your school and you have no idea who to choose. loosely based off of operation: true love where geto is eunhyeuk and gojo is dohwa :)

a/n: sorry for the delayed update! life kind of took a sporadic turn lol and the next few chapters might take a bit but i'll try my best <3

pairing: geto suguru x f!reader, gojo satoru x f!reader, satosugu x f!reader

tag list: @username23356-blog - @anxious-chick - @novacaneformybrain - @mandysfanfics - @rottmntrulesall - @voiceofnoreturn - @rh-tg1 - @ky0mybeloved - @black-swan-blog27 - @ladytamayolover - @the8ate - @maybe-a-bi-with - @dudalo100 - @reese-is-right - @6lonely-town6 - @its-a-damn-blue-brick - @kimi01985 - @dorusken - @siimp4youu - @catobsessedlady - @paper--angel - @animechick555 - @meshiinuma - @xxannyxx - @kaeyaviado - @kochochan-shinobulvrrs - @ichikanu - @valeriinee - @yourfavepookiebear let me know if you'd like to added! also i still don't know how to fix the tags - it works in editing but doesn't link some when i post it. if anyone knows how to fix this, please let me know!

Gojo knew exactly what Geto was up to and he had no intentions of letting him win.

He really thought he was being so suave and kind.

Gojo could see right through the bullshit.

That in of itself was truly Geto’s biggest mistake – given how often Gojo spent his time bullshitting other people, it wasn’t hard to tell when others were doing it. Sure, Gojo had no intention of doing that to you, but the fact remained plain and simple; people were gullible and fell for Gojo’s ‘charm’ every time just like he could see right through their sweet smiles and kind words.

Everybody wanted the same thing in the end and no one really truly cared about him. At least, not as a person.

Except for you.

You were different. He could tell immediately. The second he’d bumped into you that day and instead of grovelling on your knees with an apology like every single other person would’ve–you got mad. You actually got angry at him. You weren’t all fake smiles and sweet words, and that’s when Gojo instantly knew that you were different. You weren’t just automatically nice to him because of who he was and because you thought you could get something from him; no, you were nice to him because you actually cared.

Sure, it was fun teasing you. Fun seeing your face grow embarrassed and you stutter over your words, but what Gojo liked best was when you thought no one was watching and you’d have this look on your face. This concentrated, twisted face that was completely you in every meaning of the word.

Truth be told, Gojo thought it was beautiful.

He thought you were beautiful.

So, yeah, sure… It was a bummer when he realized he wasn’t the only guy who had eyes for you–and he wasn’t talking about Sukuna. Sukuna hadn’t even been a threat before you’d broken up with him. Just a few questions here and there and it was abundantly clear to Gojo that Sukuna was a horrible boyfriend and although he hadn’t really understood at the time why you’d still stuck with him, he wasn’t worried about getting you to break up with your loser boyfriend.

And hey! Then you went and did it yourself.

Now, it wasn’t like he was saying Geto was a threat—because he wasn’t. Of course he wasn’t. But, it had been just the tiniest bit annoying (yeah, that was the word) for Gojo to find out that he wasn’t the only one who’d realized how amazing you were and if the looks on Geto’s face were anything to go by, it seemed Geto was just as down bad as he was. And sure, he’d been peeved when he’d seen that you’d, at some point, borrowed Geto’s hoodie–and washed it for him, and Geto had been at your house–but it’s fine.

These were all just tiny blimps and Gojo knew he’d be able to win you over easily.

Not that you were just a prize to be won. That certainly was not it.

Gojo’s intentions weren’t just for the sake of it—he’d said it already, hadn’t he?

He thought you were beautiful, kind, funny (the list went on) and you were the only one who had ever been real around him. And Gojo wasn’t about to give that up for anything.

So, no, Gojo wasn’t stupid. He could see Geto’s plan from a mile away to sway you over and he had no intention of losing.

-

You’re starting to think inviting both Geto and Gojo to hang out wasn’t such a great idea.

And it wasn’t because you didn’t want to hang out with them. No, that certainly was not it. Although you’d only known them for a short amount of time, you considered them friends and you hoped they felt the same.

It’s just… well, maybe you underestimated just how much the two didn’t like each other.

It definitely didn’t seem like they were all that concerned with hiding it from you either; at least not anymore.

If anything, it felt like a constant battle between them all night, with the winning side tipping towards the both of them back and forth. Like a relentless, painful game of tug of war.

One second it was Geto tugging you towards a ride, deliberately leaving Gojo trailing behind, and then the next it was Gojo getting you to try some sort of sweet he’d bought and purposefully making sure that Geto could see him spoon-feeding you. You’re not really sure why they’re tug of war is centered around you, but you were tired of being the bait every time.

Now, sitting on a bench, you could physically feel the two of them glaring at each other from over your head on either side of you.

“Ugh!” you cry, pushing yourself to a sudden stand before spinning around to face them. They both start at your sudden outburst, wide eyes falling on you, before flinching when you shove your finger in both of their faces. “I can’t take the two of you! Constantly fighting all night! This was supposed to be fun but it’s been nothing but awkward and tense all night!”

Lips parting, they slowly glance at each other.

Gojo is the first to speak up, pouting; “but Y/N! He’s been trying to hog you all night.”

“Tch,” Geto scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest as he rolls his eyes. “As if. At least I don’t try to feed her every snack I find.” Then, turning to Gojo, Geto smirks; “what are you? Her mother?”

“I’m being considerate for your information,” Gojo growls, leaning towards Geto without missing a beat. “Did you even bother to ask her if the rides you dragged her on were ones she wanted to go on? I’m pretty sure—”

“This is exactly what I mean!” You cut in, holding your hands out toward them in exasperation. At the dumb look they both give you, you throw your hands in the air; “that’s it. I’m going to the washroom and when I come back, the two of you better have made up or else I’m leaving.”

At that, both of their eyes widened.

When neither of them say anything, you just sigh. 

“I’ll be back.” 

Shoulders slumping, you turn, not bothering to give them another glance before making your way towards the bathroom. It takes you a minute to find the washroom and it’s a little far from Geto and Gojo, but you figure the distance just gives them more time to work out their issues, so you’re not worried. After you’re done, you wash your hands, humming softly to yourself as you dry your hands before making your way out.

Only, you find yourself bumping into another.

“Oh, I’m so–”

Your words, however, fall flat the second you see who you bumped into.

“Su-Sukuna—”

Not wasting a second, Sukuna grabs you by the arm; “can we talk for a second?”

You step back instantly. “I’m actually here with—”

“Geto and Gojo,” he cuts in, voice sharp. His grip never lessens despite you trying to pull away and then suddenly you find yourself being dragged around the side of the washroom, Sukuna pulling you into a more secluded area away from prying eyes. You try not to stumble on your feet as he drags you, forcing the both of you to a stop the second you find your footing and casting a nervous glance around you when you realize no one really can see either of you.

“I know,” Sukuna finishes the second the both of you stop. Your eyes fall on him at his tone, leaning back when you see the nasty glare on his face. “Didn’t take you long to move on, did it?”

Lips parting, you’re baffled; “Su–Sukuna, did you follow me here?”

He scoffs, as if that’s absurd. “I overhead you at school. I invited Mei Mei with me,” he explains with a shrug. “She’s… somewhere.”

Annoyed, you raise your hand, grabbing the one holding your arm and ripping it off of you by the wrist. Sukuna watches you with thin lips. “That still sounds like following me,” you hiss, narrowing your eyes up at him. “And what? Just wanted to wait until I was alone before you cornered me?”

“You’re being dramatic,” Sukuna scoffs. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

Stepping back from him, you cross your arms. “Why?” You bluntly ask, tilting your head. “Because I have nothing to say to you.”

“I want to finish our conversation from last time,” Sukuna explains, stepping towards you.

“There’s nothing to say,” you state, putting emphasis on the word ‘nothing’ to make it clear. “I broke up with you. That’s it. And I have no intention of “continuing” our conversation,” you make the air quotes as you speak, “when you gave me bruises the last time we spoke. I’ve had to sweat in sweaters and hoodies all week and was only able to properly cover them with makeup today.”

Frowning, Sukuna swallows thickly. 

“And why do you even care?” You ask, shaking your head as you shove at his chest lightly. “I moved on too quickly? Didn’t you cheat on me?”

Taking your wrist in his hand, Sukuna’s eyes flash, like he’s going to do something, before he stops himself, face falling briefly. “What do you want me to do?” And oddly, his voice sounds different; twisted and distressed… almost, desperate? “You want me to beg? Get on my knees and beg for you to reconsider?”

Well, that certainly wasn’t what you were expecting.

Still, you find no true argument with his words.

“Yeah,” you say without hesitation, straightening your back out as you step towards him. “Kneel.”

And there’s the briefest moment of pause, stilling and suffocating silence, before you feel a sharp sting across your cheek.

-

“Well, this is getting nowhere.”

Huffing, Geto shakes his head; “clearly.”

Silence follows. Despite Geto’s sarcasm, Gojo shockingly doesn’t retort in return, and then, unfortunately, Geto finds himself sitting there in silence, Gojo doing the same beside him, the both of them waiting for you to return.

Even if that means you’ll all just end up leaving because Geto and Gojo couldn’t work out their differences for one night.

This certainly wasn’t what Geto imagined for your first date with him – upsetting you enough that you’d leave… but hey, Gojo wasn’t supposed to be here either so it’s not entirely his fault.

…Right?

Sinking further against the bench, Geto lets his head lean back, glancing up at the darkening sky.

A minute passes. Then another. Then another.

Geto frowns. Sitting back up, he glances in the direction you’d left, brows furrowing when he doesn’t see you peeking through the crowd. A quick glance at his phone tells him you’ve been gone for at least ten minutes, maybe more… it didn’t take you that long to go to the washroom, did it?

“She’s taking a long time, isn’t she?”

Face falling, Geto glances at Gojo. If he was thinking the same thing, then…

With a split second decision, the both of them stand up, not wasting a second before heading in the direction they saw you leave in. Geto sees the sign to the washroom after two minutes of walking and his panic really starts to settle in then, eyes frantically glancing around to see even a flash of you somewhere.

But you’re nowhere to be found.

“Can you see her?” Geto asks, turning to Gojo beside him.

The white-haired boy is frowning; “no. She’s not here.”

Chest tightening, Geto tries to ignore the racing of his heart as he frantically glances around. The park isn’t that busy but still, it’s overwhelming him just how many people he’s seeing that aren’t you… Where could you have gone in the ten minutes since you’d gone to the washroom? 

Then, briefly, Geto sees a familiar head of blueish-white hair.

It’s Mei Mei.

Which meant…

“Gojo,” Geto calls sharply, pulling the boy's attention on him.

“What?” Gojo calls, stepping towards him. “Did you find her? I can’t see her anywhere.”

“No, but I know where she might be.”

Not bothering to explain, Geto starts to walk towards Mei Mei, Gojo quickly moves to follow after him, but he makes it a total of five steps before Gojo is suddenly calling your name. Startled and confused, Geto glances back at Gojo only to see the guy heading to the right and as Geto’s eyes trail upwards and sees you, he swears he sees red.

- 

What?

What… just happened?

Bringing a hand to your cheek, you stare back at Sukuna in disbelief. To his credit, even he seems a bit shocked by his actions, but the anger easily takes over any shock and his face twists into something nasty as he takes the wrist of the hand holding your cheek and tugs you towards him.

Your mind is numb. You can feel your eyes welling with tears, not so much because of the pain but because of the sudden fear radiating through your veins and the way it feels like you can’t breathe, but yet your body refuses to move. You know you should—you know you should be trying to get as far away from Sukuna as possible, but your body won’t listen.

Neither will your mind.

“Me!” Sukuna cries out, sound estranged as he squeezes your wrist hard. “Kneel for you?! Are you insane? You should be thanking me for ever even considering giving you the light of day when you’re nothing but—”

But Sukuna never finishes his words. 

One second, he’s in front of you and the next he isn’t. You’re left standing there, confused, cheek still hurting, wrist aching, arms left before you, before there’s another set of hands pressing into you but this time they’re warm and gentle and soft and wait—

You’ve felt these hands before.

You blink and then suddenly Gojo’s familiar blue eyes are staring into your own with concern, lips parting as he asks you what you’re sure is if you’re okay even though you can’t hear him actually say the words.

But you can’t think of how to respond to him because your eyes slowly shift to his left and you finally see Sukuna. Only, he’s on his back and Geto is over top of him, gripping him by the front of his shirt before swinging his free hand back and punching him square in the face.

Oh. 

Oh.

“—Y/N. Y/N! Look at me! Are you okay?”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you turn back to Gojo. “I’m… I’m okay.”

His hands leave you and a start of panic floods you, but then his palm is pressing gently into your stinging cheek and your eyes flutter as it instantly soothes the ache; even if a little.

“Your cheek is red,” Gojo mumbles, frowning. “That fucking asshole.”

And his narrowed eyes glance back at Sukuna.

That reminds you—

Your eyes shift and Geto is still punching Gojo and your face falls when you see his knuckles are slightly red—bloody.

“Geto…” You call but your voice comes out as a whisper, panic crawling up your throat. Geto lands another hit on Sukuna and you swear you hear the sound of his fist making contact with your cheek and the panic deepens because something about seeing Geto that angry scares you. “Geto–please… please—!”

You’re stepping forward even as Gojo tries to pull you back, but you manage to catch a grip on the back of Geto’s sweater just as a high-pitched scream echoes. Mei Mei comes running in just as Geto finally focuses on your touch, your knuckles turning white from how hard you’re clutching onto his shirt.

Breathless, panting, Geto lets his eyes fall on you, then Gojo who nods at him, before falling back on Sukuna who has a bloody nose and what looks like a black eye and then, finally, Mei Mei who is falling on her knees beside him.

“What did you do?” She cries, voice shrieking. Her watery eyes meet Geto’s eyes directly. “What did you do!”

Stepping back, Geto stumbles, and Gojo moves to steady him just as you reach for his hand.

You frown at how bruised it is.

Gojo watches the interaction for a moment before speaking up; “we should probably get her out of here.”

Still somewhat breathless, Geto nods; “yeah,” he calls out, voice hoarse.

Gojo sets a hand against your back and Geto is threading his bruised fingers through yours, and the both of them tug you out, not letting you see Sukuna and ignoring Mei Mei’s cries of indignation. 

And the three of you don’t stop once.

-

“That was honestly kind of badass.”

“Satoru.”

“I mean it!”

Snorting, Geto rolls his eyes, before meeting Gojo’s. “Thanks.” 

Grinning, Gojo sends him a thumbs up.

“This isn’t a joke,” you cut in, carefully wrapping a bandage around Geto’s knuckles. “You could get in serious trouble for this if he tells the school. Or worse, if Mei Mei does.”

“Psh,” Gojo laughs, “they won’t.”

You turn to him in disbelief. “And how do you know that?”

“If Sukuna says something, he’ll not only be a snitch but his reputation will be ruined. I mean, he lost… badly. He didn’t even get one hit in,” Gojo explains with a grin, stepping towards you and Geto who are sitting on your couch. “There’s no way he’d ever admit to that. And Mei Mei won’t either because she’ll do anything Sukuna says.”

Biting your lip, you take in Gojo’s explanation — honestly, you couldn’t find any fault in his explanation.

“Besides,” Geto speaks up, eyes focused on you. “He deserved it. For hitting you.”

Sitting on the single chair across from you, Gojo lets out a heavy breath; “ditto. The guys a dick.” 

Frowning, you set Geto’s hand down, now fully bandaged, hugging yourself as you glance at your feet.

Geto and Gojo glance at each other.

“What happened?” Geto asks after a moment, voice low.

Pinching your arms slightly, you sigh.

“Y/N,” Gojo pushes, “come on.”

“I don’t even know.” You breathe after a moment, shoulders slumping. “I was just leaving the washroom and then I bumped into him and when I tried to get away, he just… grabbed me. I didn’t think–... I didn’t think he get that mad.”

Meeting each other's eyes, Geto speaks up first; “what did he want?”

“He wanted… to get back together,” you choose not to mention the part when he insinuated you were easy by being with Geto and Gojo… that would only egg them on further. And even if Geto decided he didn’t want to get his hands anymore bloody, you couldn’t count on Gojo feeling the same way. “When I told him no, he asked me if I wanted him to beg. I said yes.”

There’s a stunned silence, then Gojo laughs. You blink at him, surprised, having expected they’d curse you out for being so stupid to try and talk back to Sukuna, but Gojo is laughing and when you turn back to Geto, he’s smirking.

You bite back a smile.

“Nice,” Gojo snorts. “The man could be knocked down a peg or two.”

You just nod to yourself, secretly really happy they both liked your confidence.

But then, you remember what you’d originally been saying; “anyways… After that, he—... slapped me. I was shocked and my body wouldn’t move, so he grabbed him and truthfully I don’t know what he would’ve done but you guys got there before he could.” Hesitating a second, you meet both of their eyes. “Thank you.”

Gojo nods, but Geto just glances at you, then, you watch as his eyes lower towards your arm.

Your back straightens.

“Is that the only time he’s hurt you?”

Eyes widening, you freeze. “W-What?” 

Reaching forward, Geto takes your wrist in his own—instantly, you notice how much more gentle his touch is. His fingers loop around the length of your wrist but he doesn’t squeeze or pull, and you follow his lead, despite your nerves, easily as he shifts your arm, moving it so it's raised. He then takes his free hand and rubs at your arm.

You watch with parted lips as he rubs the foundation you’d put there clean off, revealing a faint and healing bruise.

“It’s why you were wearing sweaters all week, yeah?” Geto asks, meeting your gaze with lidded, dark eyes.

Swallowing thickly, you nod.

“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” Gojo cuts in, pulling your attention away from Geto and on him as his face tenses. 

“I’ll help you.” Geto adds, letting your arm fall softly by your side, nodding over at Gojo.

You watch the two of them for a moment, before realizing; 

“Hey!” You suddenly call, ignoring the mood as you smile at them. “You two are getting along!”

Geto and Gojo stare at you blankly.

“That’s what you’re concerned with?” Geto asks incredulously.

“Why not?” You laugh, shaking your head. “This is what I wanted all night!,” then, lowering your voice, you add; “even if it is bonding over talk of murder…”

There’s a beat of silence, then, Geto snorts, a second later, Gojo follows by a laugh of his own. You all glance at each other for a moment longer, before bursting out in a collective laugh, your head falling back as you clutch at your stomach, giggling.

[roxyteal]

(Jesus Christ it happened again. Mobile decided to not only publish the draft but also not save any of my edits. Pardon me if you see any appear) (Oct 30: Put context about his sobriety in the beginning, as opposed to in the middle out of nowhere.)

Today I am compelled to talk about Joe 5. It may include things I already mentioned in a different post, but those were in the tags so if any of this seems like not new info, sorry about that.

ANYWAY

Joe 5. Also this gets long so bear with me.

Joe 5 (but you can use either Joe or 5) came from a complete set copy of "Joe`s basics joke game". He was relatively fine as a person, with highs and lows. He's a bit of a snark but it's usually lighthearted. He even realized he had a problem and got clean, though... Alcohol still kinda haunts him as a result.

At some point, he and his entourage found the Webspace. On that day, they were among two others - a copy of Denied's Basics (the 10th apparently), and the 82nd Dave, who was a rogue for some reason.

Things were alright until it was mentioned that there was a pre-existing Joe and company around, and whether or not they'd like to merge with him, and so on. 5 thought that was weird as Hell and said no. But his companions said yes.

This resulted in 5 distancing from them since they're "not my friends anymore", and "I don't even know them anymore". And from then on, he resented the idea of merging, and that damned "Joe 1" for being so Goddamn happy. What's he all smiley about, he thought. The fucker.

But at least he still had his school. His empty, ghost town of a school. He quickly realized he couldn't live alone in that so he started staying in a tiny apartment, which quickly became a mess because of his plummeting self-worth. If only he'd just gone with everyone else, this could've been avoided, he also thought. It's his punishment for going against the grain. Being different. Maybe even "defective". Well shit, let's be defective. Why not.

He would have his code and model changed so that his hair would grow naturally. Somewhere in his reasons for this was needing to feel responsible for something, so he wouldn't completely fall apart. And maybe having it would make him feel better, whether about himself, in general, or both. He recalled that he considered asking his player about it in the past, but never got the nerve. Better late than never, he tried to rationalize. That's what people say to forgive themselves, right?

But the shoulder-length he requested (and wavy to boot, he didn't realize he had that...) spiraled out of control and now reaches his waist. Of course he couldn't keep up the end of the deal he put upon himself. It really needs the trim, but he couldn't be assed to try, and it disgusts him. The only good thing was how it never tangled. Game magic shit or whatever. But regardless of that, he looked like a cryptid, and he felt like one too.

At this point, his only comforts was TV, eating, and sleeping. He didn't need to do the last two obviously, but it gave him something to do, a distraction. When he ate, he could focus on the taste and nothing else. When he slept, he would stop being able to drown in his thoughts, welcomed instead into nothingness. When he watched TV, it numbed him enough to stop caring.

But even in his lowest moments, he refused to give in to his old addiction of... That. Diving back into it would truly mean the end had come. He'd rather be tortured to the brink before he had a sip again. Even now. Especially now.

He rarely ever left the apartment, kept the lights off, curtains to the balcony closed, and didn't allow visitors. He rarely ever left his bed, in fact. Sometimes he'd lie there and daydream about leaving. To where? Who knows. But this place was so painful to live in because everyone else has it great and he's got nothing so it's like... Just leave. But where?

He'd ponder it. Maybe just go out that tunnel and see where the Internet busses take him. Leave it up to fate. Maybe he'll find a nice little NeoCities domain. That whole area's so fuckin' large, there had to be a place where even 5, a worthless piece of shit, could fit right in! Yeah...

But he never gets out of bed. Out of the apartment. To the entrance tunnel. To the bus stop. To NeoCities. He just lies there, thinking about it. And nothing happens.

One day, he realized he was running out of food. The only reason he'd ever leave his trash heap of an apartment. By this point it was a matter of looking presentable enough to go out into that bright, colorful, vapid world crafted by that... Uh, mask man, and his spooky associates. Or keep staring at the dump that is 5's living space and contemplate if he could live without the sensation of eating. He still had his two other trusty vices, is it okay to lose one?

But, fuck. He loved the instant noodles. The frozen meals. The rice cups he could drizzle a little soy onto. And all the other kinds of convenient, packaged stuff. Goddammit.

So, he stepped around the trash, and next he knew, he was out the door. Fine. Fine. Fine! He'll get so much, he'll never have to come out again!

But as soon as he was outside the building, hair almost encasing his torso like a shroud, something shifted. Today's the day he's going to leave. Yeah. He'll get this done, pack up, make a pitstop to Vincent's or whatever pretentious name that supernatural son of a bitch had, flip off the gaudy building, then head straight for the tunnel. If he had time, he might even egg that fucking place!

This is it! God, it'd been so long since he was excited. Genuinely excited. He wanted to hold onto this forever.

Mood improved, he carried on with his mission. He ignored the other shoppers, checking off everything he picked up from his list. It was one of his first lessons here, because how could anyone remember everything they needed? He sure couldn't.

Things were going fine, until... He bumps into someone. Baldina. And she single-handedly became the craziest thing to happen to him.

He barely recalled the conversation, but it led to her hiring him as an assistant at her school, despite his clear lack of qualifications. It seemed that like Mr. Strobe-bow-skis, she too had plenty of people under her thumb, in numerous positions. A whole network of them.

One of which, 5 got to meet while struggling pitifully with the coffee machine, just seconds away from having a breakdown right then and there. This guy called himself, er, "I'm never"? But one word. Okay sure whatever. And in spite of 5's threatening tones and verbiage, Imnever was patient enough to show him how to use the brewer. Even informed him of how Baldina takes her coffee.

So what's Imnever's story? Oh, he teaches art here. He's more of an animator by trade, but this suited him just fine. Huh. Well, still more impressive than anything 5's ever accomplished.

The three of them became friends. He wasn't sure how that was possible, but finally he had a reason to go outside more often, instead of stewing in his own suffering for weeks at a time. In fact, slowly that poor excuse of an apartment turned into something a little more decent. It wasn't super tidy, but if Imnever, Baldina, or both wanted to visit, finally 5 could and would allow it.

It got to a point where, one morning, they surprised him with a present. A motorcycle. Apparently the two had taken his daydreaming musings seriously, about how cool it would be to have one. Also, 5 had forgotten what day it was - his birthday.

He cried. He couldn't possibly accept this. He didn't know how to ride it. He'd ruin it or hurt someone. All the classic, self-depreciating excuses he was told he was using.

But, as Imnever said, what you don't know, you fear. Once you do, you don't. Frankly that sounded confusing, and yet, these types of phrases helped him get this far, so... Just accept the damn thing.

The helmet was really cool, but he had so much hair that it wouldn't be able to fit. At long last, he got the trim he had desperately needed; up to just below the shoulders. But Baldina did it for him. Almost ironic, but at this point, who cares?

He forgot how light his head felt after the excess was cut down. It was a nice feeling.

Once he actually tried to overcome that fear of failure and took the chance to learn something, he was surprisingly quick on the uptake. And before long, he was zooming down streets in that badass chopper of his.

Maybe the Webspace isn't actually so horrible. But, thinking that, he reminisced about that day, where he was so sure he was gonna leave this domain behind and start over somewhere else. He slowed to a stop in front of Infinite School or something like that. Hm...

And he gave that treacherous high-rise building the bird, laughing manically as he drove onward. Of course he was going to stick around nowadays, but it still felt right to do. And boy was it worth it.

Life here had finally looked up for 5. Until, well... The demon showed up. But that's a whole other fuckin' story.

[il-predestinato]

Ohhhhh that explains why Charles' tag is almost empty for me. 🤣 I thought tumblr broke again. I guess when you have that user blocked already, it's just an empty vacuum in the tag.

how are people allowed to make 100 posts in a row and just spam the tag like that?

[ohmeadows]

ooh for the ask game: 5 and 12 (for your ruanliu fic? i just love this fic so damn much, i need to know everything about it)

What fic surprised you with how much interaction it got this past year?

unsurprisingly, i was not at all prepared for the amount of interaction you and me are a twisted fantasy got, for better or worse. i wrote it for two people in about 48hrs and didn't think much else of it at the time. the tag enemies to milkies, added as a silly little joke, took on a life of its own for a while there.

(apparently i also wrote most of it while in the university library? just right there in public? ok.)

i got a lot of nice dms, some really icky ones, some people behaved really weirdly around me for quite some time, it wasn't the best introduction to a fandom but i went thru it and now i'm just writing what interests me. i haven't re-read it once since i posted it, so readers probably know it better than i do by now.

What inspired the dew of dying stars?

lots of little things, amongst them a throwaway thought at the end of september of "two frosty women mmm kiss". that was it. and then i wanted to know, well, how could i make that work? under what circumstances could their paths cross? it wasn't as hard as i thought it'd be. ruan mei's writing in simuni was honestly stellar, precise and interesting: did you know she has a manual for dealing with people? that was probably the first hook: what would jingliu had given to have a manual for how to connect with and live with others? with baiheng?

a common theory before ruan mei's full lore was revealed was that she was from the xianzhou cangcheng due to her association with plum blossoms and xianzhou-like style; and though her lore hints at another planet I still like to think she at the very least spent some formative time there. this also served as an exploration point of shared trauma, what it did to them, what those plum blossoms growing out of jingliu means to them both... though now that we know ruan mei nurtured a planet it'd be interesting to see someone do ruanliu au where ruan mei reveals she nurtured the planet that devoured the cangcheng.

ever since reading jeff vandermeer's 2014 novel Annihilation (and later, watching the alex garland movie version) i have been obsessed with the potential of floral and plant body horror, but struggling to find an outlet for those ideas. instead, i let them fester for years until hsr introduced mara: an entire civilization blessed/cursed with the looming disaster of what awaits them as they grow older. delicious.

during the fall of 2023, some friends were reading a lover's discourse: fragments by barthes and sharing quotes and reflections on the daily, which informed the inclusion of baiheng's presence; I find it nigh impossible to write about jingliu without at least brushing against baiheng and the wound she represents in jingliu's psyche.

these two points served as the strongest sources of inspiration, while for ruan mei, i ended up doing a lot of research into plant biology and systematics, as well as slowly and patiently layering an extrapolation who she was from simuni lore available to us at the time. in the end, i only had to do minimal edits as her lore was revealed, which is honestly a credit to hsr's thorough writing in simuni. i spent a lot of weekends in the library flipping through plant books to gather vocabulary and further extrapolate on it.

[jcmarchi]

Re-Working the CSS Almanac

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/re-working-the-css-almanac/

Re-Working the CSS Almanac

Getting right to it: the CSS-Tricks Almanac got a big refresh this week!

I’m guessing you’re already familiar with this giant ol’ section of CSS-Tricks called the Almanac. This is where we publish references for CSS selectors and properties. That’s actually all we’ve published in there since the beginning of time… or at least since 2009 when most of the original work on it took place. That might as well be the beginning of time in web years. We might even call it Year 1 BR, or one year before responsive.

You don’t need me telling you how different writing CSS is today in the Year 14 AR. Quite simply, the Almanac hasn’t kept pace with CSS which is much, much more than properties and selectors. The truth is that we never really wanted to touch the Almanac because of how it’s configured in the back end and I’m pretty sure I spotted a ghost or two in there when I poked at it.

Visiting the Alamanc now, you’ll find a wider range of CSS information, including dedicated sections for pseudo class selectors, functions, and at-rules in addition to the existing properties and selectors sections. We’ve still got plenty of work to do filling those in (you should help!) but the architecture is there and there’s room to scale things up a little more if needed.

The work was non-trivial and as scary as I thought it would be. Let me walk you around some of what I did.

The situation

We’re proudly running WordPress and have since day one. There’s a lot of benefit to that, especially as templating goes. It may not be everyone’s favorite jam, but I’m more than cool with it and jumped in — damn the torpedoes!

If you’re familiar with WordPress, then you know that content is largely sliced up into two types: pages and posts. The difference between the two is fairly minimal — and nearly indistinguishable as they both employ the same editing interface. There are nuances, of course, but pages are largely different in that they are hierarchal, meaning they’re best for establishing parent-child page relationships for a nicely structured sitemap. Posts, meanwhile, are more meta-driven in the sense that we get to organize things by slapping tags on them or dropping them into a category group or whatever custom taxonomy we might have in reach.

The Almanac is built on pages, not posts. Pages are boss at hierarchy, and the Alamanc is a highly structured area that has a typical sitemap-like flow, and it just so happens to follow alphabetical order. For example, an entry for a CSS property, let’s say aspect-ratio, goes: Almanac → Properties → A → Aspect Ratio.

That doesn’t sound like a bad thing, right? It’s not, but pages are tougher to query in a template than posts, which have a lot more meta we can use for filtering and whatnot. Pages, on the other hand, not so much. (Well, not obviously so much.) They’re usually returned as structured objects because, you know, hierarchy. But it also means we have to manually create all of those pages, unlike tags and categories that automatically generqte archives. It feels so dang silly creating an empty page for the letter “A” that’s a child of the “Properties” page — which is a child of the Almanac itself — just so there’s a logical place to insert properties that begin with the letter A. And that has to happen for both properties and selectors.

The real problem is that the Almanac simply tapped out. We want to publish other CSS-y things in there, like functions and at-rules, but the Almanac was only ever built to show two groups. That’s why we never published anything else. It’s also why general selectors and pseudo-selectors were in the same bucket.

Expanding the place to hold more content was the scope I worked with, knowing that I’d have some chances to style things along the way.

One template to rule them all

That’s how things were done. The original deal was a single template used for the Almanac index and the alphabetical pages that list selectors and properties. It was neat, really. The page first checked if the current page is the Almamac page that sits atop the page hierarchy. If it is that page, then the template spits out the results for selectors and properties on the same page, in two different columns.

The query for that is quite impressive.

<?php function letterOutput($letter, $selectorID, $propertyID) $selector_query = new WP_Query(array( 'post_type' => 'page', 'post_status' => 'publish', 'post_parent' => $selectorID, 'posts_per_page' => -1, 'orderby' => 'title', 'order' => "ASC" )); $html = '<div class="almanac-group">'; $html .= '<div class="group-letter"><a id="letter-' . $letter . '">' . $letter . '</a></div>'; $html .= '<div class="group-list">'; while ($selector_query->have_posts()) : $selector_query->the_post(); $html .= '<details id="post-' . get_the_id() . '" class="link-item"><summary>'; $html .= '<h2><code>'; $html .= get_the_title(); $html .= '</code></h2>'; $html .= '</summary>'; $html .= get_the_excerpt(); $html .= '<pre rel="CSS" class="almanac-example"><code class="language-css">'; $html .= get_post_meta(get_the_id(), 'almanac_example_code', true); $html .= '</code></pre>'; $html .= '<a class="button" href="' . get_the_permalink() . '">Continue Reading</a>'; $html .= '</details>'; endwhile; $html .= "</div>"; $html .= "</div>"; return $html;

That’s actually half the snippet. Notice it’s only marked up for a $selector_query. It loops through this thing again for a $property_query.

From there, the function needs to be called 26 times: one for each letter of the alphabet. It takes three parameters, namely the letter (e.g. A) and the page IDs for the “A” pages (e.g. 14146, 13712) that are children of the selectors and properties.

<?php echo letterOutput("A", 14146, 13712); // B, C, D, E F, G, etc. ?>

And if we’re not currently on the index page? The template spits out just the alphabetical list of child pages for that particular section, e.g. properties. One template is enough for all that.

Querying child pages

I could have altered the letterOutput() function to take more page IDs to show the letter pages for other sections. But honestly, I just didn’t want to go there. I chose instead to reduce the function to one page ID argument instead of two, then split the template up: one for the main index and one for the “sub-sections” if you will. Yes, that means I wound up with more templates in my WordPress theme directory, but this is mostly for me and I don’t mind. I can check which sub-page I’m on (whether it’s a property index, selector index, at-rules index, etc.) and get just the child pages for those individually.

The other trouble with the function? All the generated markup is sandwiched inside a while()statement. Even if I wanted to parse the query by section to preserve a single template architecture, it’s not like I can drop an if() statement anywhere I want in there without causing a PHP fatal error or notice. Again, I had no interest in re-jiggering the function wholesale.

Letter archives

Publishing all those empty subpages for the letters of each section and then attaching them to the correct parent page is a lot of manual work. I know because I did it. There’s certainly a better, even programmatic, way but converting things from pages to posts and working from that angle didn’t appeal to me and I was working on the clock. We don’t always get to figure out an “ideal” way of doing things.

It’s a misnomer calling any of these letter pages “archives” according to WordPress parlance, but that’s how I’m looking at the child pages for the different sections — and that’s how it would have been if things were structured as posts instead of pages. If I have a section for Pseudo-Selectors, then I’m going to need individual pages for letters A through Z that, in turn, act as the parent pages for the individual pseudos. Three new sections with 26 letters each means I made 78 new pages. Yay.

You get to a letter page either through the breadcrumbs of an Almanac page (like this one for the aspect-ratio property) or by clicking the large letter in any of the sections (like this one for properties).

We’ve never taken those pages seriously. They’re there for structure, but it’s not like many folks ever land on them. They’re essentially placeholders. Helpful, yes, but placeholders nonetheless. We have been so unserious about these pages that we never formally styled them. It’s a model of CSS inheritance, tell you what.

Yup, you can stop gushing now. 😍

This is where I took an opportunity to touch things up visually. I’ve been working with big, beefy things in the design since coming back to this job a few months ago. Things like the oversized headings and thick-as-heck shadows you see.

It’s not my natural aesthetic, but I think it works well with CSS-Tricks… and maybe, just maybe, there’s a tear of joy running down Chris Coyier’s face because of it. Maybe.

Navigating

Another enhancement was added to the navigation displayed on the main index page. I replaced the alphabetical navigation at the top with a nav that takes you to each section and now we can edit the page directly in WordPress without having to dev around.

Before (top) and after (bottom)

The only thing that bothers me is that I hardcoded the dang thing instead of making it a proper WordPress menu that I can manage from the admin. [Adds a TODO to his list.]

Since I freed up the Alamanc index from displaying the selector and property lists in full, I could truly use it as an index for the larger number of sections we’re adding.

There may be a time when we’ll want to make the main page content less redundant with the navigation but I’ll take this as a good start that we can build up from. Plus, it’s now more consistent with the rest of the “top-level” pages linked up in the site’s main menu as far as headers go and that can’t be bad.

Oh yeah, and while we’re talking about navigating around, the new sections have been added to the existing left sidebar on individual Almanac pages to help jump to other entries in any section without having to return to the index.

Yes, that’s really how little content we have in there right now!

Quickly reference things

The last enhancement I’ll call out is minor but I think it makes a positive difference. If you head over to any subpage of the index — i.e., Selectors, Properties, Pseudos, Functions, At-Rules — a snippet and high-level definition is available for each item at the ready without having to jump to the full page.

We’ve always been big on “get to the examples quickly” and I think this helps that cause quite a bit.

“You could’ve also done [x]…”

Yeah, lots more opportunities to tighten things up. The only goal I had in mind was to change things up just enough for the Almanac to cover more than selectors and properties, and maybe take some styling liberties here and there. There’s plenty more I wanna do and maybe we’ll get there, albeit incrementally.

What sort of things? Well, that hardcoded index navigation for one. But more than that, I’d like to keep pushing on the main page. It was serving a great purpose before and I pretty much wiped that out. It’d be good to find a way to list all of the entries — for all sections — the way we did when it was only twe sections. That’s something I plan to poke at.

And, yes, we want to cover even more CSS-y items in there, like general terminology, media and user preference queries, possibly specifications… you get the idea. The Almanac is a resource for us here on the team as much as it is for you, and we refer to it on the daily. We want it flush with useful information.

That’s all.

You can stop reading now and just head on over to the Almanac for a virtual stroll.

[lifenconcepts]

🎱 ⇢ post your AO3 total stats  No it’s rather pathetic and by that I mean abandoned

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction? Need more angst

🌵 ⇢ share the link to a playlist you loveFUCKKK I CANT! It’s a physical copy cuz I download music

🕯️ ⇢ on a scale from 1 to 10, how much do you enjoy editing? why is that? 10 because I don’t do it.

🛼 ⇢ describe your latest wip with five emojis!!!!!!!!!! 🏚️🚪🧪🧿🛠️

🥑 ⇢ you accidentally killed somebody, which mutual(s) do you text for help? Uhhhmmmmm @caffeinated-eccentric-polymorph :)

🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love THE MAN DOWNSTAIRS I won’t link it BUT OG MY GODH THE gravity falls fandom can go wild.

💌 ⇢ how many unread emails do you have right now?  About 2 :) not counting my other email which has 4,000.

🌻 ⇢ tag someone you appreciate but don't talk to on a regular basis @primalshane I need your existence in every waking second of the day.

🐇 ⇢ do you prefer writing original characters, reader inserts, or a mix of both?  All of the above and more!!!! 🧃 ⇢ share some personal lore you never posted about before. about.. me? Or characters?? Oh fuck it have both- I write in my journal a lot of I/Me/My but on character ai strictly he/they/the man/it (shut up I know A.I. sucks but I can’t help myself.

🎲 ⇢ what stops you from writing more in your free time? The voices /hj

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings. Sherlock secretly is touch starved and John was very gently reintroduced touch into his main diet and constantly seeks out to occasional give pats or hugs of encouragement and Sherlock just internally freaks out but has gotten used to it.

🧸 ⇢ what's the fastest way to become your mutual? Compliment me and give me attention. Litterally you don’t understand how wild I go for this 🪐 ⇢ name three good things going on in your life right now. I’m maturing at a good rate and pace, my future seems clear, I’m content with now.

📚 ⇢ what's the last thing you wrote down in your notes app? uhhh let me check:

I slept so damn nice on the 10th and even tho I only got 4 hours, my dreams were so colourful (metaphorically) and intriguing!!

The amount of nutrients will affect the growth of things. Spores are the way mushrooms reproduce.

🍬 ⇢ post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character. John Watson isnt soft but docile.

🔪 ⇢ what's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project? Guns :) and I’d say this ain’t weird but I don’t think the fbi agent likes me opening 20 tabs of gun info. Didn’t even get to use any of the shit I learnt. 🦷 ⇢ share some personal wisdom or a life hack you swear on. THE KISS OF THE DIVINE WILL ALLOW YOUNTO CREATE POETRY UNLIKE NO OTHER AND YOUR HAND WILL NOT BE YOURS BUT THE WORDS WILL BE! Or do you mean in general oh god I presumed you meant writing.

❄️ ⇢ what's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best? IDFK MAN IVE BEEN SEARCHING FOR YEARS ☹️☹️☹️☹️ 🌿 ⇢ give some advice on writer's block and low creativity 🙂 KILL YO- ahem. Just don’t write. Simple as. you have high expectations but that gets you nowhere, allow yourself to relax.

🥐 ⇢ name one internet reference that will always make you laugh. I guess we doing —— now.

🏜️ ⇢ what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work? A psychoanalysis of how I wrote it.

🍦 ⇢ name three good things about a character you hate. Idk man. No one comes to mind.

🥝 ⇢ do you lie a lot? what's the most recent lie you told? That I would kms, but in reality it’s just the only way to express the depth that I am pained by in a way that properly reflects other people’s kindness idfk

🦋 ⇢ share something that has been on your heart and mind lately. Fuck oh duck oh fuxk oh duxk oh fuck!!!! Uh umh hnh uhhhhhm I really wanna experience more mortal pains, both psychological and also temperature wise and also blood.

🦴 ⇢ is there a piece of media that inspires your writing?  SHERLOCK HOLMEs, ILY ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE!!!!!

🍅 ⇢ give yourself some constructive criticism on your own writing. Fuckkk uhhh.. I’m perfect ! Okay but maybe take into consideration how much I ACTUSLLY stay on topic, which is nice for stories if I stray but in reality a bit annoying to read.

🐚 ⇢ do you like or dislike surprises? Depends on the execution.

🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here. later

☁️ ⇢ what made you choose your username? well my ao3 I went by something like LifeNdeath “life and death” and then changed to LifeNreality and now I just have a habit of making usernames start with LifeN and just whatever the site is for, so here, I am a concept :)

🐝 ⇢ tag your biggest supporter(s) and say one nice thing about them. Fuckkk idk man uhhhhh @primalshane best creature on earth that I deeply care about and wish for goodness to seek them out yipppeee.

🌸 ⇢ do you have any pets? if you do, post some pictures of them. I do!

I love to bully him

🎨 ⇢ link your favourite piece of fanart and explain why you like it. Too many answers for this so I got no answer for this.

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately? Any sort of kink or fetish although I’ll turn a blind eye if it’s blood/knives/sadism/masochism.

Writers Truth & Dare Ask Game

🎱 ⇢ post your AO3 total stats  🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction?  🌵 ⇢ share the link to a playlist you love 🕯️ ⇢ on a scale from 1 to 10, how much do you enjoy editing? why is that? 🛼 ⇢ describe your latest wip with five emojis 🥑 ⇢ you accidentally killed somebody, which mutual(s) do you text for help? 🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love 💌 ⇢ how many unread emails do you have right now?  🌻 ⇢ tag someone you appreciate but don't talk to on a regular basis 🐇 ⇢ do you prefer writing original characters, reader inserts, or a mix of both?  🧃 ⇢ share some personal lore you never posted about before 🎲 ⇢ what stops you from writing more in your free time?  🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings 🧸 ⇢ what's the fastest way to become your mutual? 🪐 ⇢ name three good things going on in your life right now 📚 ⇢ what's the last thing you wrote down in your notes app?  🍬 ⇢ post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character 🔪 ⇢ what's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project? 🦷 ⇢ share some personal wisdom or a life hack you swear on ❄️ ⇢ what's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best? 🌿 ⇢ give some advice on writer's block and low creativity 🥐 ⇢ name one internet reference that will always make you laugh  🏜️ ⇢ what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work? 🍦 ⇢ name three good things about a character you hate 🥝 ⇢ do you lie a lot? what's the most recent lie you told? 🦋 ⇢ share something that has been on your heart and mind lately  🦴 ⇢ is there a piece of media that inspires your writing?  🍅 ⇢ give yourself some constructive criticism on your own writing 🐚 ⇢ do you like or dislike surprises? 🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here ☁️ ⇢ what made you choose your username? 🐝 ⇢ tag your biggest supporter(s) and say one nice thing about them 🌸 ⇢ do you have any pets? if you do, post some pictures of them 🎨 ⇢ link your favourite piece of fanart and explain why you like it 🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

[kyaruun]

RAAAWR HUG! HUG! qiapyon loves being hugged :3 and squished (is a slime so squish!) hehe you are so nice and soft :>> not at all intimidating

YOU FELT LIKE A BIG BLOG just so very top tier writing. great graphic. whole package deal. there's only two possibilities that happen to follower count when you go ia:

it goes up, because people are finding you

it goes down, because people are not finding you and your followers think you are dead

THE RETURN OF NYA im so excited rawrrrrr tag me in everything

afadsfhsd me big blog... i guess i'm a big blog. i dont know why 1.1k people are still here for my shitposts

ajdslfsdf its only a few,,, a lot of my blogs are ia..... unfortunately.... and i mostly have focused on nazukisser though i literally cant stop writing for enstars its in my soul... i always strive for weekly for every fandom but darn thats really hard with the amount of shit i have going on

WAAAAAAAA i hope YOUR works get the true recognition it deserves (one day you'll write a leo fic that will become known as that leo fic (in a pos sense))

professional.... ate lis told me that i looked professional on my blogs,,, i just try. lots of trial and error and i always try to look fresh. have gone through so many phases its insane. one time i tried replicating an actual site design on tumblr while combining it w my style and it was so hard. stares at my (long gone) tori fs2 theme

RIGHT like the readers were nice, all of the people were so nice... now its too big like who is everyone... but also its kinda dead too like damn... 2023 is not anybody's year... i wish we could return to all being silly....

help me omg big blog. i mean being a writing blog the writing might as well get a pass but the graphics suck and i'm the first one to acknowledge that. i simply don't know what to do with them >< the one and only graphic i'm still head over heels for and is the reason i still haven't remade my theme is the cute cat soren did for me a looong time ago and is my current banner. it's. so. round. so cute. silly but sosososo adorable

i mean my followers have probably accepted i'm a sporadic writer and i don't really have a schedule. it hurts when you try to put out your stuff but it doesn't get attention but aaa this is the internet. there's no point in overthinking that. my one and only concern is that anons that rq something i answer a few months later manage to read their rq :(

JESUS CHRIST QIAN YOU HAVE 1.1K FOLLOWERS?!?!? big big biggest writer indeed. i just checked mine and it's 744 followers which is an insane number for someone who posts so little!! what you said about the leo fic... i can only hope. i personally think i suck at writing leo a lot. and rei. and natsume. my izumi is pretty much a mess too. see? if i love them i can't write them right. but uuuu i'd love to write a series. i've never tried that. i also considered something like a social media au bc that's usually really cute too. i don't think any of my works will ever reach that level of importance buuuuut. i'd love that

i've been working a bit on some sort of new theme for my super due revamp but i hate editing sooo much. whatever you say your themes always look super nice and cohesive <3 they're really nice to look at ;;

the fandom being big and dead (from a writing pov) is just as you said ;; i occasionally go into the tags to look for cute fanart but i don't see any writing and it's very sad. sorry to whoever might be offended by this but x readers actually carried the fandom before engstars. but we all either grew frustrated with the lack of interaction or found new interests

i simply miss that sense of community TT the nuri era... nuri feeding the entire fandom one post a day. bee coming up with the absolute prettiest things (like hello THEIR PROMPTS. i still haven't recovered from those). swanee dropping these insanely talented bombs and leaving us knocking on their askbox like "pls comeback when". soren's blog (which i actually visit from time to time bc there's a handful of fics that carry half of my mental sanity rn). runa ;;;;

see? i miss a lot of people ꒰⁎′̥̥̥ ⌑ ‵̥̥̥ ꒱ on those are only the ones that came first into mind because there are even more moots i miss... that comfy feeling of being able to jump into everyone's askbox and be silly... nostalgia hitting hard ;;; makes me think i should try to join a server(s) to try and interact with people again, even if it's just some talking from time to time

[starsscribble]

Stick Shift

Summary: Rick thinks he freeing Y/n. Y/n thinks she's the problem.

Tags: Angst, No comfort, Age Difference, Reader is 25 Rick is in in 40.

A/n: This was when I was on my Walking Dead kick. Finally got it edited.

But today I drove through the suburbs

Crying 'cause you weren't around

  You pulled into the post-apocalyptic suburbs; in a separate car than what Glenn and you left in. Your earlier pride of find and driving said care was gone. Now in it place was a numb type of sadness. It was stupid. You know that. Getting worked up over the fact you were driving a stick shift. All on your own. But Rick. Your boyfriend; ex-boyfriend now. He had been the one to teach you how to drive a stick shift. Before Virginia. When the group was still in the prison. When you were both still happy.

  “Come on,” his southern drawl was clear as day. You let out a puff of air. Head pushing against the headrest. “This was your idea. You gotta confess something.” You started to hate that you suggested this game, but the drive was so damn long. You didn’t have the radio to help distract you. No, it was just you, Rick, and a long stretch of Georgia backroad. The former sheriff’s right hand shifted off the steering wheel. Moving carefully as not to catch your attention. You were still racking your brain for a secret to tell. Then a yelp left your mouth. You jumped in your seat making the older man laugh. Hand retreated to the wheel.

“That’s what you get for taking so long pumpkin.” He grinned; eyes shifted from the road onto you. A hint of playfulness in those ocean blue eyes. 

“I was thinking of something!” You shot back making him chuckle before looking back to the road. 

“There’s gotta be something you have never told anyone.”

“Well,” you hummed. Readjusting in your seat. “I don’t know if this would count because I’ve never told this to anyone in the group.”

“I’ll count it.” He glances at you quickly, still smiling. Which makes you smile.

“Alright. I don’t know how to drive a stick shift.” You feel the jerk was the car spot. Rick looked at you as if you just told him the undead are all gone. Eye full of disbelief. 

“You’re joking.” He speaks after a beat and you shake your head. Nope, you couldn’t drive a stick to save your life. And with how the world was it just might. Rick took off his seatbelt as you questioned just what he was doing. “I’m gonna teach you how to drive stick. You might need it.”

“We are on a run.”

“Yep and this is the perfect time. Now get into the driver’s seat.”

  Slowly you parked next to Glenn. Killing the engine you got out as Glenn moved over to your vehicle. He smiled at you. Today was a good day. Got more food, medicine, and another car. The possibilities for cars were endless. Used for parts. Set up at protection. Used as traps. Daryl Dixon the town resident mechanic would have a field day with this car.

“I’m gonna check in with Rick,” Glenn says. You see him playing with his wedding band. Maggie’s baby bump had started to show and Glenn didn’t like being away for too long. Patting his shoulder you speak.

“Go see Maggie and your baby.” You slammed the driver’s side door shut. The dark-haired man stares at you. Willing to argue with you on this.

“Really it’s-” You raised your hand stopping him.

“If you don’t go check up on Maggie. I will and I’ll tell her how you screamed like a girl.” His eyes widen at the threat. 

“I didn’t know a group of bats would be in there!” He defended himself only making you grin at him. You both head away from the parking area. Back towards the stretch of cookie-cutter homes. You nudge his shoulder with yours.

“First it’s a colony of bats. Second, not only was the scream funny, so was your face.” You teased him. Glenn shoved your shoulder playfully. Before mumbling that he was going to check in with his wife. Leaving you with the task of checking in with the community’s newly appointed leader Rick. 

  Jogging onto his porch you knocked on the door. Eyes looking everywhere but the door until it opened. Sadly it wasn’t the male you were looking for. Carl greeted you with a soft smile. The bandages that once covered his right eye socket had been replaced with a custom-made eyepatch.

“Ahoy captain.” You tease the teenager who rolled his remaining eye. “Your dad here? Just checking in since Glenn and I got back.”

“Nope. Haven’t seen him since this morning.” Carl tells you, making you nodded. “When I see him…” He trails off because he knows you will just hunt his dad down. “I don’t know where he is.” He's lying. You know it. He knows that you know. But you just nod and quickly thank him. Tell him to kiss his sister for you before turning off the porch.

  And you're probably with that blonde girl

Who always made me doubt

She's so much older than me

She's everything I'm insecure about

  You know where Rick Grimes is. Feet carrying you down the still blood-stained street. Streets that just weeks ago were covered with the undead. You wave kindly to the people passing by. It is a mix of your group, older residents, and new people. You still feel out of place. Maybe you always will. Maybe you won't. You wonder quietly to yourself. A nice distraction. Because if you thought about where you were going. Where you had to go. You might just break. So you let your mind wander. Let your feet carry you to the destination. Everything seemed to be on autopilot. Until your using the knocker of the baby blue house. Her house.

“We should end this,” Rick says matter-of-factly. You stopped brushing your hair to look at him. He’s not facing you. Back facing you as he pulled his jeans on. 

“What?” Maybe you misheard him. Maybe it was your ear playing a trick on you. Because Rick couldn’t be breaking up with you right now.

“We should break up.” He rephrases. The words take the air from your lungs. Your mouth opened to say words that your mind can’t even come up with. The silence in the room grew by the seconds. It finally became too much for the man as he turned to face you. Jeans zipped up but not buttoned. Belt lay next to his shirt on the bed but his eyes fell on you instead. 

“Say something.” He requested of you softly. That same soft voice that he used when he said he loved you. Tears that formed in your eyes finally fell as you blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. Before you looked him in the eyes.

“Is it me? Did I do something wrong?” Getting shot was nothing compared to your question to him. Because he knew you honestly thought you did something wrong. You always doubted yourself. But you were perfect. So goddamn perfect. And amazing. And young. 

“No sweetheart. It’s just…” He stops himself from going over to embrace you. Tell you to forget about it. Because this has to happen. You're 24. His 39. Even if the group. His and your family were ok with it. He heard the whispers around town. The other weren’t as supportive. 

“I think we should end this. We had an amazing run. And you're young. You’re gonna find someone else that will love you more than I ever could.” He breaks his own heart with his words. Because he doesn’t want you to find someone else. He wants to be with you until the end. When and where ever the end was. But you deserve better. You deserve someone around your age. Not an old man with two children like him. 

“I…” you stare at him. Cheeks strained with tears he caused. “I don’t want someone else.” You grab the comforter. It gets balled up as you tighten your grip on the fabric. Your mind running over everything you had done in the last weeks to get to the point. You had snapped at him a few days back because of Jessie Anderson. The blonde woman in her thirties that lived up the street. You didn’t hear what they were talking but her body language told you everything. She was flirting with Rick. And either he didn’t notice or didn’t care. Doubt played in your mind the whole day after seeing the interaction. Because Jessie was around Rick’s age. And you weren’t. You didn’t really have any life experience before the world ended. So it made sense if Rick preferred a woman his own age. As opposed to you, a 24-year-old kid in his eyes.

“I can get you a brownstone to stay in.” He said. Brushing off your comment. Which broke your heart even more.

  The door opened showing the blonde that lived there. A smile and questioning look on her face. 

“Is Rick here?” You asked, watching as she turned her head and yelling the man’s name into the home. He comes out from the kitchen; questioning who it was. The question dying in his throat when he saw it was you. Jessie excused herself leaving you and Rick alone. The former sheriff stepped onto the porch, closing the door behind him.

“Hey,” he gives you a tight-lipped smile. Which you return.

“Just came to tell you Glenn and I are back.”

“Right,” he nods. “You guys went on a run. Get anything good?” You nodded before listing off some of the supplies you got. Including the stick shift car. You heard him chuckle. Looking into his eyes you saw that same playfulness as the day he first forced you to drive a stick. 

“You didn’t flood the engine this time right?” He teased and you scoffed, punching him in the shoulder. 

“I was amazing.” You boasted. The older man stared at you and you swear you heard a quiet. ‘Ya, you are.’ 

“You don’t mind if I asked Glenn?” You roll your eyes but smile.

“Go ahead. He's gonna tell you the same thing.” He nodded. Hand going on his hips. You watch as he licks his lips. Your breath hitching as you feel your stomach twisting in knots. “I should go. Need a shower desperately.” You don’t wait for him to say goodbye or stop you. You're off the porch and down the road heading home in a few steps. 

  And all my friends are tired

Of hearing how much I miss you, but

I kinda feel sorry for them

'Cause they'll never know you the way that I do

  Maggie can’t drink. But that doesn’t mean you and Sasha can’t. Sasha, Abraham, and Rosita had come back later in the day from another run. They had been the unlucky ones not finding much of anything. But Sasha apparently found some top-tier booze in a rundown bar. The trio split it up between them. So here you were. Snacking on fresh strawberries drinking booze that would have been at least $100 for a bottle; straight out of the bottle. The three of you resting against the metal wall that protected the town from the nasty world outside.

“So,” Maggie started as she threw a strawberry stem into a bowl filled with them. “Heard someone talk with Rick.” Sasha and her eyes went to you as you grabbed the glass bottle of auburn liquid. Taking a healthy swig you felt the burn as it went down. You were far too sober to be talking about this. Talking about him. Because no one in the group knew why you guys ended it. Just one day you were a happy couple and the next you were packing up and moving into your own brownstone. Sasha took the bottle from you, making you whine. As you tried to reach for it but the former firefighter held it out of reach. Her hand on your chest also keeping you away from it.

“You can get some when you tell us what happened.” She landed down the rule and it makes you groan as you move to lay against the wall. You don't want to talk about it. You just want to wallow and let the scar form on your heart in peace.

A crack of thunder sends the trio onto the back porch of Maggie’s home. Lucky for you guys because moments after; the dark clouds opened up letting down heavy droplets that ping off the porch’s roof. Sasha is distracted by the rain. Asking Maggie if the crops will be ok. Allowing you to snatch the bottle from her hand and take another big glug. The bottle is half gone now. And honestly so are you. The alcohol works fast as your brain starts to go fuzzy. Sasha takes the bottle back slightly annoyed. But it clear the break-up has been hard. So she lets it go.

“You got your drink.” She says putting the cap back on and sitting it to the side out of your reach. “Now tell us what happened.”

“I don’t know.” You sob. You weren’t normally an emotional drunk. But with everything going on with Rick. Tonight you were. 

  And I know we weren't perfect

But I've never felt this way for no one, oh

And I just can't imagine how you could be so okay, now that I'm gone

  Maggie held you as you drunkenly cried. Sasha joined you on the other side, rubbing your back. You finally opened up about your breakup with Rick a month ago. You weren’t sure how much they understood because of the loud rain and your blubbering. But either way, they consoled you. Trying to help the only way they could. And the only way they knew how. Simply being there. Because for a month you kept this end. Kept this to yourself. So those outside of the group saw you were fine. The break-up didn’t seem to affect you. You carried on with work. Talked with Rick when it was needed. You acted fine. 

But the group knew it. Of course, they knew. It was an act. Because they saw how you were breaking. How you had a longing in your eyes when the cowboy boots-wearing man walked by. The smile that rarely reached your lips. You were faking so much of your joy because your heart was broken. 

“I just don’t get how he is so ok. Did I mean nothing?” The two women share a look at your question. Because they also know that Rick isn’t ok. Like you, he is acting. Because he is the leader and can’t break down. But the man isn’t ok. They don’t say that. Rick was the one that ended it. That was on him.

“I don’t know,” Maggie says softly as you rest your head onto her shoulder. “I wish I had the answer for you. But only Rick does.”

  Red lights, stop signs

I still see your face in the white cars, front yards

Can't drive past the places we used to go to

'Cause I still fuckin' love you, babe

  The street lights are now on. It’s still raining when you tell Maggie you were going home. Sasha and her try to get you to stay the night. Or at least until the rain lets up. But the rain isn't letting up. It was so heavy you could barely see a few steps in front of you. But you step off the back porch and disappear down the alleyway of the lined-up homes. You walk. Just walk because you don’t want to go home just yet. If you go home you’ll be lonely. And you don’t want that. Because for a month you have been lonely in that damn brownstone. Rick wasn’t lonely. He was with Jessie. His arms wrapped around her body. Damn your brain. Just because you didn’t want to be lonely didn’t mean you wanted to think about them together. 

  The rain started to ease up as you found yourself passing Rick’s house. The lights upstairs were on. As you quickly looked away from the cookie-cutter home. A shiver ran through you and shoved your hands into your soaked jean pockets. Maybe now was a good time to head home. You haven’t even turned when you heard your name being shouted over the rain. Looking back at Rick’s home you see him rushing off the porch and over to you. His dark brown jacket acting as an umbrella. He puts it mostly over you shielding you from the rain.

“What are you doing out here? You're going to get sick.” He frets because he knows how likely that is. Because after the rainstorm when the group was on the trek through Virginia you had gotten sick. “Come on.” He orders and you walk with him toward his house. 

  Sidewalks we crossed

I still hear your voice in the traffic, we're laughing

Over all the noise

  You smile at him lightly as he places a cup of peppermint tea in your hand; you're favorite. You're in one of his white t-shirt and pajama pants. Your hair, no longer wet from the rain but a hot shower. The alcohol is still in your system. How much you don’t know. 

“What were you doing walking in the rain?” He questioned taking the seat next to you. His own cup of tea in his hand.

“Was drinking with Sasha and Maggie.” You look towards him as his eyebrows knit together as the mention of Maggie and drinking. “Maggie was moderating us. She wasn’t drinking, come on. She knows better.” Rick nods bowing his head because he does know better to think that about Maggie. But his time as a cop taught him that some people just don’t care. Not about themselves. Not about others. And sure as hell not about kids. 

“Where did you get the booze from? Daryl?” You snort at him before blowing on your tea taking a careful sip. Sitting the cup down you look back towards him.

“I ain’t no rat officer.” He chuckles. You both do. A little inside joke between you both. And then the silence fell. The awkward uncertain silence of two people who didn’t know what to say next. You chew on the inside of your cheek as you stare into the tea. Rain still going strong outside, trapping on the roof of your former home.  Rick shifts beside you clearing his throat.

“Judy trying to walk.” It makes you smile a bit. 

“That’s good. Soon she’ll be running over you and Carl.” The older man chuckles nodding in agreement but you don’t see it. Head still bowed. Turning your mug as you watch the tea shift with each motion. 

“Seeing anyone?” He was trying to keep the conversation going. But there had to be another question to ask that wasn’t this. You still answer it by shaking your head.

“No. But you seemed to have moved on.” It has some bite to you. You're bitter. Of course, you are. The man you were in love with. Seemed to easily move on after he ended it. You lift the ceramic mug and take a huge glug of your tea. The warmth fills you but it’s not enough.

“Ya. Jessie, she’s…” He doesn’t know what to say. Jessie is ok. Good to have around. Doesn’t make him feel as empty. But she is just not you. All her touches. All her kisses. They feel off and he knows why. Because the hands touching him aren’t yours. Neither are the lips that kiss him. But Rick is stubborn. Even if it hurts you both, he knows you need better. You deserve the world and he just can’t give it to you.

“She’s perfect.” You looked at him. Sadness, rooted so deeply in your eyes. He wants to pull you into him. Tell you that he is sorry. That he will end it with Jessie. Come back to you. And try to make all of this right. But he already drew his line in the sand and he won’t cross it. Because the moment he touches you he knows it will be his undoing.

“She has her flaws. No one is perfect.” Except for you. He wants to add. He hears a quiet 'ya' then it silence once again.

  God, I'm so blue, know we're through

But I still fuckin' love you, babe

  You were gone when Rick woke up. His clothes lay on the guest bed since you were dried. He wondered just when you left. He wondered if you slept at all. Because he didn’t. Knowing you were in the house but not in his arms. He was restless the whole night. He sighs. Picking clothes up. It was sad that he hoped this wouldn’t be the last time. But it most likely was going to be the only time. Because how often are you going to walk in the rain drunk? He takes the clothes to the laundry room. Before he throws the shirt in the basket he lifts it to his nose. Inhaling the flowery body wash scent from when you shower last night. You must found where he hid the body wash you left behind. 

“Hey, dad!” Carl called out from the kitchen forcing Rick to dump the clothes in the basket. Entering the kitchen he smiled at his son. Judith was already in her high chair waiting for breakfast. Carl stood at the counter. The box of peppermint tea in his hands. Shit. He meant to put that up. Carl’s eye shifts from the box towards the sink. Where the mugs from last night sat unwashed. Then the young man turns to his father.

“Y/n was here wasn’t she?” He questioned but it was really a statement. It is the only reason for this tea to be out with two mugs in the sink.

“Ya,” He replied, moving towards his son and taking the box of tea from his hand. The young man sighed watching his father place the tea on a high shelf so only he could get to it.

“Why?” Carl asked.

“It was raining-”

“No,” he cut his father off. “Why did you break up with her?”

“Carl,” Rick sighed. As he pinched the bridge of his nose. If he didn’t want to have this conversation with Daryl or Michonne. He sure as hell didn’t want it with his son. But like Rick the young survivor was stubborn. He stepped into his father's past every time he tried to move around him.

“Carl,” Rick warns but the boy isn’t back down.

“No. You were happy with Y/n. Happier than I have ever seen you. Even with mom. Even before all of this.” The boy gestures at nothing but Rick knows what he means by that. Because he didn’t want to admit it. But his and Lori’s relationship was at rock bottom before the world ended. 

“So why? What happened?” Carl pressed, making Rick sigh. He wondered. Only for a second. If Michonne had put Carl up to his. But he shook that from his head. Michonne won’t do that. This is purely Carl. Because Carl loves you so much. The both of you had apparently clicked before Rick had gotten to the quarry. And that bond only grew over time. 

“It’s complicated, Carl. Now please,” Rick needed him to down the subject. And the young boy seemed to understand but is still pissed. He turns from his father. Feet carrying the young boy towards the door. “Where are you going?” He called out.

“Out!” And the slamming door let Rick know that Carl was gone. He sighed. 

  He knew everyone would move on. You would. Carl would. He would. In the far future, all of this will be just a bad memory. But right now. In the present, it hurt so fucking bad. Tears leaked from his eyes as he sucked in air. He did it to himself. He deserved this pain. And if he could he would take your pain. Allow you to be happy. To find love in someone else better than him. Because you're one of the good things in this ugly world. 

  I know we weren't perfect but I've never felt this way for no one

[jackrrabbit]

cuffing season /// Ushijima x f!Reader (18+)

Summary: [Shiratorizawa fanweek day 5—Firsts] You convince your boyfriend to try something new in the bedroom, but as it turns out, old habits die hard.

A/N: Heard it was Shiratorizawa week 👀 technically I did originally post this on day 5, but I had to repost bc of tag issues, whoops :P Let’s pray it works this time!! edit: apparently it’s still not listed in the tags :<

The song that I mention is Bruno Major’s Old Fashioned (although it doesn’t fit the tone of this fic in the least).

Tags/warnings: mild bondage, size kink, rough sex!!!, marking (bruises/hickeys/etc.), power play/power exchange, reader tries & fails to dom Mr. Ushijima 😳, all characters are adults

Look, Ushijima’s a great boyfriend. Perfect, almost. Sure, he may not be the most expressive guy, but you’ve been dating him long enough that you’re able to pick up on the little gestures that tell you that he cares about you—the way he presses his face into your hair when you hug him after you’ve been apart for a while; his hands stroking circles into your skin when you fall asleep in bed next to him; all of it. He’s everything you could possibly look for in a man, except for one not-so-little issue:

The sex.

Because Ushijima, your sweet, wonderful boyfriend, who kisses you so gently it’s like he thinks you’ll fall apart if he’s not infinitely careful with you, is for some reason incapable of exercising the same degree of restraint (or any restraint at all) when you’re in bed together. When it comes to sex, your boyfriend is a fucking animal. And you’re not really sure how much more you can handle.

Maybe your concerns would seem petty from an outsider’s perspective. It’s not like Ushijima doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer, and it’s not like you don’t want to have sex. You’re attracted to him, of course you are! Almost 76 inches and 190 pounds of pure muscle, a body that looks like Michelangelo could have carved it from marble, and that beautifully solemn expression that had you salivating over him from the stands before you even knew his name? You want to have sex with him, you’re just fairly certain you can’t, not when it always ends up with you completely and utterly wrecked, so spent you don’t even have the strength to lift your hips off the mattress so he can wipe his cum off your thighs.

Look, anyone in your position would feel the same way. It’s awful and you’ll never admit it to him, but you almost broke up with him after the first time you two fucked. You knew going in that it wouldn’t be easy—the man radiates big dick energy and boy did he deliver—but it was just too much.

That first time had started off so innocuously, with you inviting him to your place for a nightcap after your sixth date. You’d set candles and put on your romantic sex playlist for a nice backdrop to let him hold you in his lap and make out—how the hell had you gone from that to having him rut you into the mattress, your belly pressed into the sheets and ass arched up so he could pound into you so forcefully that your rickety bed smacked into the wall hard enough to rattle the furniture with every movement, and you couldn’t even hear it over the sound of your own moaning? You hadn’t changed the playlist, and it felt downright obscene to listen to Bruno Major croon about love and courtship while Ushijima fucked into you like he was trying to carve the shape of his cock into your pussy.

You’d had to call in sick the next day because you could barely walk. The bruises from where he held your hips had taken weeks to fade, and by that time he’d already given you new ones. To his credit, Ushijima felt bad when he saw the evidence of how rough he’d been and he promised to take it easy on you next time…but after a few more rounds of mind-numbingly savage sex you learned that the man apparently doesn’t know what ‘take it easy’ means.

To be fair, at least some of it is your fault. You really shouldn’t have offered to go on the pill as a three-month anniversary present to him. At least before, he had to give you a break while he changed condoms after he came; now he has no reason to hesitate, instead going for round two (and sometimes round three) without pulling out. You never thought you’d see superhuman stamina as a bad thing, but…

“You don’t get it! It’s like getting fucked by a stallion. I need to plan to have three days to recover whenever I take him home with me,” you whined to your friends over cocktails when they told you you shouldn’t complain about a good thing—after all, Ushijima is just as committed to your pleasure as he is to his own, and there’s never been an occasion where he didn’t get you off before fucking you himself (probably at least a little because there’s no way in hell you’d be relaxed enough to take him otherwise).

“Can’t you just tell him to go slower?” one of your friends asked. “If he doesn’t listen to you, then that’s fucked up and you need to dump him.”

“It’s not that he doesn’t listen. If I tell him to stop, he stops,” you sighed, stirring your drink with the straw and watching the decorative sprig of mint fall under the surface to be overtaken by a chip of ice. “It’s like he can’t go slower. He’s not adjustable—it’s either crazy brutal or nothing, and then neither of us get what we want. Like a vibrator you can’t turn off the highest level. I don’t even think he realizes in the moment how intense it is for me.”

“Aren’t you ever on top? You can set the pace.”

“I’ve tried, but Ushi just—“ you made a gripping motion with your hands and mimicked raising something up and setting it down vigorously— “like, bounces me.”

One of them raised an eyebrow and then her eyes widened. She turned to your other friend and the two of them whispered to each other for a bit, then shifted back to you. “Tie him up,” she said with the air of an elder imparting sage knowledge, and your other friend nodded.

“Oh, come on.” You rolled your eyes.

“I’m serious. Guys usually love it when girls are in control, you just need to take the initiative. Get him tied down and then you can show him exactly how you like it. Let him feel like he’s at your mercy for once.”

The idea had seemed unthinkable at the time, but you hadn’t been able to forget it—which is why after weeks of contemplation, hours of research, and a single extremely awkward trip to a sex shop, you’re now crouching over Ushijima’s naked chest, wrapping a leather cuff around one of his wrists.

“Are you sure that this is something you want to do?” Ushijima asks in that weighty baritone that makes you shiver with need. He doesn’t pull away, but he eyes your actions warily as you thread the chain of the cuffs around a rung in the center of your headboard and reach over to do the other side.

“…Yes,” you tell him, a little less firmly than you would have liked, and you lick your lips to try to make up for how suddenly dry your mouth is. “Anyway, isn’t that my line? We don’t have to do the cuffs if you don’t want to. I won’t force you.”

“It’s alright. You and I both know you couldn’t force me, (Y/N).” Dark eyes pin you down and it’s incredibly unfair how much power he has over you even when he’s the one chained to the bed.

Ushijima’s right, obviously—if he didn’t want to be exactly where he is right now, he wouldn’t be. You’re sure as hell not strong enough to force him to do anything he doesn’t want to, but he didn’t have to say it like that.

“Okay then…good,” you reply, adjusting the straps of the cuffs to accommodate for how stupidly thick his wrists are. When you’re satisfied that they won’t chafe but he can’t get out of them without your help, you sit back next to his chest and admire your handiwork. Ushijima lays on his back, naked, relaxed, even with his arms stretched up to your headboard and cuffed there. He looks good, mouthwateringly good, and you’re ready to get your hands on him when you remember there’s something you need to get straight first. “Wait, before we—before I do anything, remember— what do you say if you want me to stop?”

“…Vanilla,” Ushijima says, reciting the safeword you decided on when you were hammering out details, although the look in his half-lidded eyes is telling you very clearly that he has no intention of needing to use it.

Privately you agree, but everything you’ve read on the kink blogs you’ve been trolling for research tells you that a responsible adult doesn’t put cuffs on their partner without deciding on a safeword first, and you’re determined to do this by the book. “Good boy,” you say, and the diminutive feels awkward in your mouth until you see Ushijima’s reaction—the flash in his eyes, a minuscule hitch in his breathing next to you, and the scrape of metal against wood as he gives a light pull at the cuffs.

With everything safe and accounted for, you give a final tug to the chain to ensure it’s secure, then inch back and swing one leg over the broad expanse of his chest so you’re straddling his abdomen (and he’s so damn big that there’s a twinge of soreness in your thighs just from sitting on top of him). Fuck, he looks good like this, all spread out and pinned underneath you, so masculine and bulky that you’re feeling your pussy get wet just from watching him watching you.

It’s not often you get to appreciate him like this—usually you’re too focused on not losing your mind from how deeply he’s fucking you—so you savor it, massaging his shoulders and sliding your fingers down his sides, tracing the smooth skin with a feather-light touch and then dipping to kiss under his jaw. Feeling more than a little devious, you let your teeth graze over the thin skin at the base of his neck and with your chest pressed into his, it’s not hard to feel his sharp intake of breath.

“The marks...my teammates will notice.”

“Maybe I should stop, then,” you murmur against his skin, lifting up just enough to brush over his nipples. He stiffens, and once again you hear him tugging at the cuffs.

“…Don’t. I want them to see,” Ushijima says, and once you have his permission you don’t waste any time in latching your mouth to his skin and sucking. It’s been ages since you’ve given anyone a hickey. Usually you’re the one marked up like a teenager after Ushijima has his way with you, so this is a nice change of pace, especially when you can feel him flexing underneath you.

Well, kissing is nice…but you’re getting impatient and you know he is too. Once you’re satisfied that your hickeys are going to show up nice and bright red around his neck like a collar, you sit back, walking your hands back on his chest, stroking over his abdomen and giving a little roll of your ass on top of him. Ushijima’s hips twitch—unconsciously, you wonder?—and he glares at you in a way that tells you in no uncertain terms to hurry up and let him fuck you.

And damn it, something about that look has you feeling weak. Needy. Obedient. But this time you’re supposed to be in charge, so you smirk and lift your hips, pulling your body back so his cock is nestled between your legs, not quite touching your pussy. He’s already hard—no surprises there, considering how intently he’s watching you as you mess with him—but you only take a second to stroke his cock up and down before shifting up so he can see you slick your fingers up in your own pussy.

“(Y/N)…” Ushijima’s voice is low, annoyed, and he looks hungry. But you’re so amazed at how wet you are under your own fingers that you don’t bother to pay attention to him shifting his position under you to try to get stimulation. Your juices are literally slicking up your own thighs, just from chaining up your boyfriend and teasing him a little? You should have done this a long time ago.

You push two fingers into your pussy and pump them a few times, making sure to angle your hips so Ushijima can see them go in and out. The stretch is almost uncomfortable for a second and you wince a little before schooling your expression, knowing you’re about to have something a lot bigger than two fingers stretching you open. Ushijima catches it though, and he frowns, trying to sit up before remembering the cuffs that are holding him back. “Let me—let me do it for you—“

“No, stay down,” you say quickly, using your other hand to push him back into the mattress while you continue to touch yourself. Ushijima lets you (and there’s no doubt in your mind that he is letting you), but his eyes narrow as he zeroes in on the way your fingers are glistening with your own pussy juices.

God, you’re—you’re supposed to be in control, aren’t you? So then you shouldn’t be feeling like this, eyes drifting closed as you fuck yourself on your fingers, letting your lower knuckles rub against your clit while you try to curl them to rub against your g-spot. Ushijima’s been spoiling you…you can’t remember the last time you’ve had to do this yourself, and as you feel the tension building up slowly you catch yourself wishing it were him fingering you instead.

His fingers are just so thick. And long, and so rough. You bite your lip thinking about the way he does it when he preps you to take his cock, mashing his palm into your clit, petting along inside you and scissoring his fingers and… “Mmh,” you hum, holding back a real moan for Ushijima’s sake.

There’s another click of the chain sliding over the headboard wood and it reminds you that he’s right there, you could just uncuff him and he could touch you and fill you up with those thick fingers, make you cum, make you cry. But the urge to seek your own pleasure is outweighed by the image he’s making as he looks at you, his expression almost angry in its intensity now that he’s watching you do this to yourself and he has no way to get his hands on you.

“Ahh—“ you whine, letting a real whimper out at the thought of what you’re doing to him. “Ushi, Ushi, do you wanna touch? Wanna touch me?”

His head ducks into a hasty nod and his jaw clenches at the strain of having to ask for what he wants instead of just taking it like usual.

The longer you touch yourself, the closer you’re getting…but you don’t want to cum, not just yet. You draw your fingers out of your dripping cunt and open them up in a V, showing off the juices that connect them, the evidence of how wet you are for him. “Mmm, I don’t think so. I think there’s something else I want in me instead.”

And then you’re reaching to the side for the lube, squeezing a healthy dollop into your palm and then wrapping your hand around Ushiijma’s cock. And—fuck, he’s big. Sure, you’ve had sex with him plenty, but no matter how often you take him, you never stop feeling absolutely torn up after. A tingle of trepidation races up your spine at the thought of riding him like this—can you even put it in by yourself?

Even just looking at it is intimidating. He’s painfully hard, cock flushed red and bobbing up against his lower stomach every time you let it go, and, Jesus, how is it even possible that this thing would fit inside you? When you wrap your hand around him your fingers don’t touch; he must be thicker around than your own wrist.

Halfway. That’ll going to be your goal tonight, to take him halfway. And even that…is going to be a stretch.

The anxiety must show on your face because once again you’ve got Ushijima straining at the cuffs. “(Y/N)—“ he spits as you stroke him up, nudging your palm against the tip. “(Y/N), you need to finish first. Let me make you cum.”

“No, this time I want to—I’m gonna cum on your cock,” you say, adjusting your position so you’re kneeling above him, the head of his cock sliding between your lips. “Gonna cum on your big cock, Ushi, okay?”

His cock jumps in your hand at the provocation. He’s glaring at you, but he’s also leaking precum, the sticky fluid mixing with the lubricant. You give Ushijima a moment to say the safeword if he really doesn’t want you to, and when he stays quiet you raise yourself up a little more and line the head of his cock up with your weeping slit. You hold your pussy lips open with your fingers, easing your thighs down and pressing the head into you and—

“Oh—oh—oh, fuck, oh fuck, Ushi—“ you stutter out helplessly.

It’s been almost two weeks since he last fucked you. One week, six days and about three hours, and at the moment this measure of time seems unreasonably important because it’s been almost two weeks since you last let Ushijima split you in half with his ridiculously huge cock.

You’re not ready, should’ve prepped more, should’ve let him make you cum like he said—fuck, it feels like you’re losing your virginity—and the mixture of dismay and relief that spills over you when the thick swell of his head pushes past that tight ring of muscle is almost nauseating.

The tip? Seriously, just the fucking tip, and you’re already delirious, shaking, your thighs quivering on either side of his. It’s taking all of your strength to keep from going slack—but you know if you do, his whole cock is going to slide up into you and even thinking about that has your cunt clenching and unclenching around what you’re able to fit inside.

“Do you need help?” Despite the strain in Ushijima’s voice at being teased like this, there’s an undercurrent of amusement. He clearly doesn’t have faith in your ability to take him deeper by yourself.

It’s this—this quiet arrogance, this belief that he knows what’s best for you and he’s the only one who can give it to you—that gives you the guts to convince yourself to lower yourself down onto his his cock until you’re literally gasping for air. It fucking hurts, but you’re not going to give him the satisfaction of hearing you say it; instead, you brace your hands against the stiff muscle of his chest and try to focus on the way his cockhead is pressing into your g-spot.

Halfway…he’s gotta be at least halfway in, right? You sneak a glance up at him and bite back a curse at the look on his face, serious as ever, so focused on the place where your pussy is reluctantly eating up his cock that you feel your insides tense up around him again.

You don’t even know how it’s possible for you to get tighter around him but somehow you must be able to, because you hear Ushijima grunt underneath you, and his muscles contract under your palms as he tries again to sit up. When he can’t, he hisses in frustration. “Move…now. Or I won’t be able to control myself.”

Funny, aren’t you supposed to be the one controlling him? But it sure as hell doesn’t feel that way when you’re barely able to stay upright just from trying to ride his cock. You nod desperately, chin jutting up and down like a bobblehead, and lift your hips up off his cock until just the tip is left inside. When you push yourself back down you can’t help whimpering at the feeling of him stretching you, sliding up into you, that stiff, wet cockhead dragging over your g-spot.

By now the pain has faded into an uncomfortable stretch, like leaning too heavily into a foreign pose in yoga, enough that you’re able to feel the arousal building in the pit of your belly and hold onto it as you rock your hips up and down him. The pace is slow—almost too slow; you marvel at yourself for wanting it faster—and there’s a fair amount of Ushijima’s cock that you’re not able to take, but this is really all you can handle.

“Mmm, Ushi, fuck, you’re so big, so big and hard inside me, feels so good on your cock—“ you moan, knowing you sound less like the dominant partner in this position and more like you’re teasing him, pushing his limits.

Ushijima’s breathing is heavy. Labored. He’s trying to hold himself back. “(Y/N), deeper—take me deeper, now.”

Part of your brain vaguely recognizes that he isn’t supposed to be giving the orders here, but you’re too drunk on the feeling of fucking yourself on his cock to complain, so you lower your hips and try, but it feels like you’re just too weak to do it yourself. “Ushi please, it’s too much, too big, I can’t, please—“

And your pleading must sound like an invitation, because his eyes flash and you feel him shifting the position of his legs behind you—and then he bucks his hips up and his cock sinks into your cunt, pushing up into your gooey insides until the head is pressing into the tight opening of your cervix.

“Ahn—?” you squeal, startled. What? He—what? Fuck, it’s deep, it’s so deep, you can’t hold yourself up so you flop downward, holding onto his shoulders for dear life, “ohhh Ushi pleasepleaseplease” and you barely hear yourself over the lubed-up slap of his pelvis against your skin.

Fuck, it feels like he’s knocking the breath out of you. Feels like you can’t fucking breathe like his cock isn’t just pushing against your stomach but your lungs too, can’t breathe so you bear down on his shoulders try to hold yourself up try to let yourself adjust but—

Ushijima’s in control now.

Not that he ever wasn’t, you’d think if you were capable of thinking except you’re not because as you try to situate yourself make yourself relax around that monster cock filling you up, he’s not giving you a moment to catch your breath, instead thrusting up into you at his usual breakneck pace. Apparently he doesn’t need to use his hands to make you bounce—you’re not even moving yourself now, just trying to hold still as his hips slam his cock inside you again and again and again, and again, rubbing up against that sweet spot in your pussy so quickly that you think you might go crazy from it.

“Nngh, so tight,” he growls, and you can tell from the way the words are choked out that he’s gritting his teeth. You almost want to roll your eyes—of course you’re tight, anyone would feel tight around him—but it feels like if you do your eyes might roll back in your head so you don’t.

Jesus fuck, you can’t even understand how long it’s been but you do know that it’s absurd for you to want to cum already, only the thick mass of his cock pushing into you is somehow hitting all the right buttons, just like it always does. Even if it’s rough you want more. By now you’re trying to meet his thrusts, rolling your hips in time with him fucking you open, doing your best to participate but really it’s all you can do to even stay still with how roughly he’s fucking you. “Ushi, fuck, so deep, wanna cum I wanna cum please let me cum—“

“Touch yourself,” he commands breathlessly because he’s still tied to the headboard and he can’t do it, and you barely have the strength to pick one of your hands up off of where you’re scratching into his shoulder and pull it down to rub at your clit.

It’s not enough and you whimper desperately, you don’t want your own fingers, you want Ushijima’s, you want him to touch you. You’re probably saying it out loud by now, begging him to put his hands on you—his eyes widen and then the sound of the metal cuff chain grating over wood reaches you—you can see the skin of his wrists get lighter from lack of blood flow, he’s pulling at the cuffs, pulling too hard, he’s going to hurt himself, you have to stop him—and then you hear a snap.

Aw, shit. The bed.

The thought comes in a singular moment of clarity as you watch the rung Ushijima’s chained to separate itself from the rest of the headboard, splintering, the nail that held it in place looking pathetically flimsy next to the veins bulging in his arms as he slides the chain away from it. He flexes his hands, forming fists and then unclenching them to restore the interrupted blood flow, and then you’ve only got a second to prepare yourself before he’s upright, dragging your hips up to meet his.

“Ushi, Ushi, Ushi, I want, please, I want you,” you beg, but you didn’t really have to because you’re pretty sure there’s no force on Earth that could stop him from holding you up so he can fuck down into you with a ferocity that could be mistaken for anger if you weren’t certain it was really lust.

The entire bed is creaking and rocking against the force of his movement, but you don’t really have the headspace to worry about more property damage considering he’s got you supporting yourself on the mattress on your back and shoulders, your spine curled up so he can kneel and still have your hips aligned with his, your legs dangling bonelessly on either side of him.

Fuck. Holy fuck. You open your mouth but words don’t come out, only a choked whimper, but if you could speak you’d be saying yesyesyesyesyes, touch me.

Despite your inability to speak, Ushijima picks up on what you need and then along with his cock carving its way in and out of you you’re getting the feeling of his fingers padding over your clit. Rough and callused, not gentle, nothing like the way you touched yourself earlier, but you’re starting to realize you don’t mind the aggression. In fact, it’s good, it’s so good, so good you’re gonna cum.

You’re gonna cum.

A long, drawn-out whine is spilling out of your lips before you can stop it; you wrap your hand over your own mouth out of shame or maybe courtesy to your neighbors (although by now they’ve probably invested in earplugs after listening to you squeal like a pig on Ushijima’s cock dozens of times in the past). Still, as your climax rocks through you shove your thumb between your teeth to bite down on it, but the sharp pain is nothing compared to the pleasure.

“Ushiiiii—“ you sob around your own fingers. Your spine arches—or rather, you try to arch your back but you can’t, not with Ushijima’s full body weight pressing into you and keeping you pinned to the mattress.

It hurts, it feels good, you’re seeing stars, you’re hearing Ushijima snarl as your pussy tightens up and convulses on his cock. His one-handed grip on your ass gets painfully tight as he abandons whatever pretense of restraint he had left and pumps his cock into you so hard and fast you’re pretty sure the headboard isn’t going to be the only thing broken, but you don’t fucking care because you’re cumming, you’re cumming, you’re cumming so hard you think you black out for a second, holy fuck.

It’s only when you hear Ushijima’s panting breath and feel him pulling your hand away from your mouth that you regain your grip on reality. “You’re bleeding,” he says, holding your hand up and inspecting the shallow indentations your teeth made on your thumb.

“…You broke my bed,” you reply tiredly once you’ve gotten in a lungful of air, what feels like the first full breath you’ve been able to take since he put his cock inside you.

“I’m sorry,” Ushijima tells you, although he doesn’t look particularly sorry.

You roll your eyes. “Did you cum?”

“Yes. When you did.” Without him holding you up there’s nothing to prevent you from sliding down off his softening (but still unfairly impressive) cock. You’re certainly not strong enough to keep yourself in position.

Even if he hadn’t confirmed it, you’d still be able to feel the familiar heat of his semen plastering your insides, and once your still-sensitive pussy is exposed to the cool air your inner muscles squeeze involuntarily but hard enough to force some of his cum out—you sense it, hot and thick, dripping out of your pussy to smear against your thighs. “Can we take a bath?” you ask, knowing you’ll barely be able to walk over to the bathroom, much less stand under the shower unassisted.

Ushijima nods and moves off the bed. “I can carry you,” he adds when you try to stand up and your knees almost give out before you flop back onto the mattress.

At this angle, with you sitting and him standing in front, it’s difficult not to see that despite cumming literally less than two minutes ago, he’s already getting stiff again. Jesus, is he even human? After how hard you just came, the thought of letting him fuck you again is giving you something stronger than butterflies, but you look up at him and offer anyway. “Wait, do you…um, want to go for another round?”

Ushijima’s gaze meets yours and then travels over your body underneath him. You must look like a mess—sweaty, hair all fucked up and tangled, body still shaking with the aftershocks of your climax and barely able to sit comfortably on your aching pussy—and you guess he sees how jittery (nervous?) you feel because for the first time since your relationship started, he shakes his head to turn down an offer of sex. “No, I’ll take care of it. Let’s clean up first.”

“Okay,” you sigh, releasing a breath you didn’t realize you were holding and raising your arms to let him pick you up.

“(Y/N).”

When Ushijima doesn’t move to carry you, you frown. “Hm?”

“The cuffs.”

Oh, right. The black leather is wrapped around both of his wrists, chain still intact. Apparently these cuffs are stronger than your headboard. Good quality. Too bad they’re going in the trash. You make quick work of the release and then undo the straps carefully, massaging over the light pink marks on your boyfriend’s wrists once they’re free.

“Sorry, did it hurt you? I didn’t mean to—I mean, I just wanted…” You trail off, feeling infinitely embarrassed that despite all your claims of dominating him, he still ended up with the upper hand, cuffs or no cuffs. And you liked submitting to him. There’s no denying that.

“It didn’t. And…I enjoyed having you on top,” Ushijima tells you, lifting you effortlessly into a princess-carry now that his arms are free.

“Yeah right. We’re never using those again,” you scoff, tucking your head into his chest as he carries you to the bathroom. “My boss is going to get mad that I keep taking sick days every time I have sex with you. I’m just going to throw the cuffs out.”

From your position, so close to him, you can barely see the upward quirk of his mouth that would be as good as laughter for anyone else. “Don’t get rid of them. I think…next time, I would like to have you wearing them, (Y/N).”

Well, fuck.

[awkwardarmadildo]

did not know thwre was an anti tag my bad i will change it if its bothering yall that bad ¯\_(ツ)_/¯, never called it pedophilic, im shockingly enough aware that 14 year olds are children, never said it was illegal, im not acting like either of them have the average experience, im not really interested in zutara (which it seems like youre implying but i could be reading that wrong, sorry if i am) though i have like art of the two of them because it was damn good art, i genuinely was not treating it as morally reprehensible i was just saying it was a weird choice for the writers to make their ages 12 and 14 (which i didnt clarify in my original post, thats my mad, sorry), i did genuinely mean that kataang shippers were neato (not in an 🥺 uwu 🥺 way ew i just genuinely say neato) i wasnt trying to start like a little feud with yall i was just saying weird age for the writers to make them lmao

sorry if this feels/felt like a jab, that wasnt my intention at all but reading it all back i can see how it could be read that way. i would edit my first post on the subject but that would feel cowardly or something (gotta worry about my honor yknow)

(also though for real if this is a serious thing to anyone, i will actually chnage it im not trying to stir shit i was just typing my thoughts out before i passed out last night or whenever i wrote this, i wasnt really focusing on like using nice words/things like that so i am genuinely sorry if this does like actually hurt anyone)

sorry to all the kataang shippers out there but kataang genuinely skeeves me out like

hes 12. shes 14. thats so weird to me. thats so Gross to me. thats a sixth grader, a kid brand new to middle school or even still in elementary school depending on location/school district, and a freshman in highschool.

and dont even say uM aCtUaLly HeS oNe HuNdReD aNd TwElVe i do not give the faintest fuck. he has the experience, mentality, physicality, all that shit, of a twelve year old. hes twelve. thats weird, thats gross, i dint like it

no judgment to kataang shippers though yall seem neato

[chloelucia13]

It’s Nice to Have a Friend

Pairing: Steve Harrington x platonic!Henderson!reader, Jonathan Byers x reader (mentioned)

Prompt: After Jonathan had abandoned you so he could go god-knows-where with Nancy, you found comfort in the boy who had also been ditched and a beautiful friendship began to bloom.

Warnings: this is some nice comforting fluff, maybe a tiny bit of angst, some language, pretty chill

A/N: So this is a sort of deleted scene that I couldn’t fit into the Stranger Things rewrite, but I felt like it was still important to the character development with the reader and Steve, so I’m deciding to post it separately. You don’t need to read the whole rewrite in order to understand the plot (it’s based in season 2, so if you haven’t watched it then there will be some spoilers), but I would appreciate it a lot if you did read my rewrite! As always, requests and tag lists and my inbox are all open!

“Y/N, hey!” a voice shouted to your right, prompting you to turn your head and look at who was speaking.

Steve rushed over to you, his backpack hanging on one shoulder and a couple of crinkled papers held in his hand.

You furrowed your brows slightly in confusion, stopping at the side of the hallway and waiting for him to catch up. “Hey, Steve,” you drawled out, slightly confused by his presence.

Steve had sat at the bleachers with you that day after both of you had been ditched. Steve was ditched by Nancy and you by Jonathan, both of whom were now attached at the hip.

It was nice to talk to Steve about everything that was going on and, frankly, it was nice just to have someone there. You two seemed to have more in common than you once thought, and though some of that common ground was the fact that you both were abandoned by the person you loved, it was still something.

However, you thought that lunch was it. It was surprising that Steve Harrington, the former King of Hawkins himself, wanted to spend time with you.

"What’s your next class?” he asked, nervously shifting from one foot to the next. 

“It’s, uh, English. Why?” You tugged on the strap of your backpack.

“I was wondering if you maybe wanted to help me with something?”

A look of hesitation washed across your face for a moment. “I don’t know, Steve. I really can’t miss class-”

“Please? I just need help on this essay for my college applications and I have no one else woh can help me. I just... Please?”

You let out a sigh, glancing around as you mulled it over in your mind. “I... I guess. Should we just go to the library and rent out a study room?”

He let out a sigh of relief, all of the tension leaving his shoulders. “Thank you so much. And I already did.”

“Oh, so you were planning on me saying yes?” You squinted at him and tilted your head.

Panic crossed over his features. “No-no, I didn’t mean it like that-”

“Steve, I’m kidding. Chill out.” 

He let out a chuckle, nodding as the two of you began to walk to the library. His actions were clearly fueled by anxiety, with his shifting gaze and his hands constantly going in and out of his pockets.

“Why are you so nervous around me?” you asked, glancing up at him as the two of you stepped through the entryway to the library.

“What do you mean?” he scoffed. “I’m not nervous.”

You arched an eyebrow at his response, falling behind his step so he could lead you to the study room he reserved. “You’re fidgeting and you won’t look me in the eye. You weren’t acting like this earlier at lunch.”

He pushed the door open and waited for you to step inside before he also entered the room, closing the door behind him. A small sigh left his lips as he set the papers down on the table. “I don’t know, maybe... I guess I’m just not used to spending time with anyone other than Nancy. Especially when other people see me.”

You gave him a sympathetic look and nodded, sitting down at one of the chairs and taking the papers in your hand. “Well, there’s no need to be nervous around me. You know that. I’m not exactly some cool person that you have to act perfect around.”

Once again, he scoffed. “You are a cool person.”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head as you searched in your bag for a pen. “Come on, Steve. I’m already helping you with your essay, you don’t need to butter me up.”

He sat in the chair next to you. “But you are cool. You don’t give a fuck what people think about you, and I think that’s pretty damn cool.”

You sighed, beginning to scribble a few notes on the paper. “If only you knew, Steve.”

“What do you mean?”

“God, I care so much about what people think about me all the time. It’s exhausting.”

He was silent for a moment, watching you mark the paper as he thought. “Do you care about what other people think about you, or do you care what Jonathan thinks about you?”

You were about to argue with him, but once you realized that he was right, your mouth shut. Instead, you lifted your pen from the paper. “Did someone else edit this already? There’s pen all over it.”

He stiffened awkwardly in his chair, his lips pursing into a fine line. “Nancy was, uh... She was helping me out with it. Until, ya know, everything happened.”

You nodded slowly, slipping the cap on the pen before setting it down on the table. “But why are you having me check the draft that Nancy already checked?”

He let out a sigh, a hand combing through his hair as he stared at all of the markings on the paper. “I think Nancy wasn’t being honest with me about it. I thought that you would be more blunt about what you think about it.”

You searched his expression, leaning back in your chair and taking the papers in your hands. “You want me to be honest about it?”

He gave you a nod. “Please.”

A heavy breath fell past your lips. “Steve, it’s awful.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Geez, at least sugarcoat it a little!”

“You told me you wanted me to be honest!”

His mouth opened so he could retaliate, but no words came out. Instead, he huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “What-What’s wrong with it?”

“It... It just seems very disingenuous. Shallow.”

“What’s shallow about it?”

“You wrote about a basketball game for one of your biggest struggles that you’ve overcome.”

“And then I said it was like how my Grandpa fought in the war! That’s genuine and powerful!”

You stared at him for a moment, completely at a loss for words. “At least you’re pretty, Steve.”

“Okay, fine. What should I have done instead?”

“Steve, we’ve fought literal monsters. There has to be more to talk about than a basketball game.”

“But I can’t write about that. Can you imagine how crazy they’ll think I am?”

“That’s just an example. We’ve gone through a lot this past year. There has to be something from that time that you can write about.”

He nodded, silently thinking over what had happened in the past 12 months. “Do you think that leaving your bad friends and becoming a better person is a good example of overcoming a struggle?”

You gave him a kind smile. “Absolutely.” You crumpled up the papers you had in your hands and tossed them in the trash can before pulling out a few clean pieces of looseleaf paper and sliding them over to him. “Let’s get an outline going. What made you realize that you should change?”

He thought for a moment, a sad look settling on his features. “Last year. I uh... I did something really mean to Nancy.”

Your head tilted in confusion. “What do you mean? What happened?”

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes flashing from left to right as if he was reading from a script, when in reality he was trying to find the right words to say. “After Nancy had ditched me for Jonathan, Tommy and Carol thought that it would be funny if I spray painted ‘Nancy the slut Wheeler’ on the marquee sign at the theater. So I did it.” He risked a glance over at you, noticing the look of disappointment on your face that you failed to disguise. “Nancy and Jonathan saw it, and it escalated.”

His words slowly sank in, and your eyes widened in realization after a few moments of silence. “That’s why you were all beat up? Because Jonathan fought you?”

Steve nodded, his lips pursing closed as he didn’t know what else to say.

“Well, I can’t say you didn’t deserve it.” Again, he nodded. You reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. “But I can say that you’ve gotten a lot better. And ditching Tommy and Carol definitely helped a lot.”

“So should I write about that?”

It was your turn to nod, a kind smile on your face. “Absolutely. Should we get started?”

He mirrored your smile, leaning forward and pulling a pencil from his backpack. “Let’s do it.”

[ameliasbitvh]

ahhhh! thank you all soso much for the 300 followers! i just hit 200 last week?! how are there 300 of you? i honestly don’t know, but i started this account as a place to just read smut and then i decided to post on here. the reason why my first post was angst was because i was being a slut for angst to feel something in those few moments- okay i’ll stop myself right there. for this milestone i’m going to do mutual appreciation for the moots i’ve interacted with the most so far! (if we’re moots and u wanna interact pls do, i’m not scary!)

okayy first up,

@underappreciated-spoon-321

i love you so much bby, i could not believe it when you followed me. i was legit crying happy tears and i specifically remember you followed me after i posted “needy” random lol.

your writing is immaculate, absolutely lovely. ur smut *chefs kisses* i love that you put up with my shit photos that i send you and that you actually ask for more- but it baffled me when you first interacted with me, this was my reaction

*deep breath* “omfg! (ur username) just interacted with me, wtf do i do?!” also ur nick name reminds me of belly from dear, draco.

i’m not writing a lot, bc for your sleepover i wrote you a damn paragraph 😭 but i love u sm belly!! 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

@dracoskinks

ARI! i love talking to you, bc i can talk about anything and when i say anything i mean anything. like kinks, porn, random draco scenarios, etc… you are one of the funniest people i have seen on this app.

ur blunt and funny at the same time, it just makes it more fun to talk to you. ur smut is soso good, bc i don’t find a lot of smut with a dom!reader and sub!draco.

i remember you followed me, so out of curiosity i checked out your blog and saw your piss kink fic and that did it for me. after that i followed you back and we became moots ajnwja. when ur first account got terminated you scared me so fucking much, because i thought you were going to leave tumblr forever. don’t. ever. play. like. that. again. i’m glad we became moots bc i fucking love you <3

@opalsheart

I LOVE YOU SM! i think u were the first moot that i interacted with in direct messages, bc you had tea to spill, and ever since than we’ve been #4lifers. you send me edits and hate on t*m felton with me on instagram. you were the first mutual to know what i looked like lmaoo. u r an absolute goddess, bestie, like what- i know that you can pull anyone you want, so stop playing when you talk about someone.

even though we have a fucking 12 hour time difference, we still find time to talk to each other. it is so fun talking with you and the fact that when we talk it’s night for one of us. you let me send that stupid tik tok of ed sheeran and t*m felton to you and it probably haunts your dreams now ajnwajsj-

i appreciate that you study ur MF ass off for your exams, bc i could never. and you even send me those cute memes when i wake up- also we better be watching those true crime documentaries, bc i’m still waiting. idc if we have a time difference :) anyways ILY SM ELLIE !! <3

@laceycallisto

okay- where do i even get started with this. we first interacted when i reblogged that draco fan fic and we reblogged talking about how desperate we were trying to find that iconic fic. and i forgot that the creator could see all the reblogging we were doing- you texted me directly about adding my name into your tags, which obviously i agreed to. then we just started talking about random shit like how we were superior because we were june geminis. or how we talked about being in love with remus lupin.

i have vivid flash backs of how your remus fic hurt me. i cried my false lashes off proof reading janajaj- bestie- you’ve seen me cry ajnwja- your writing is ethereal, i don’t know how you can see that? your so nice too, like girly u gave me ur netflix within like a day of knowing each other 💀 we watched bridgerton in two mother fucking sittings. we ate that bridgerton hoe up!

all ur input on the scenes were so funny like the “with child” and “dicking” comments 😭 i love how it’s so easy to talk to you about everything, like how dumb i am- even talking about the privilege of being poc and not burning in the sun. bruh u even let me tag u in dumb tik tok videos, like what?! and i think your the only mutual i have that’s in the same time zone as me… also we better binge the next season. but ily sm, ur like my older sister, even if u say ur life is shitty 😭 <3

@dracomalfoys-wh0re

honestly, kacia. i owe a lot to you for my account being “found” or whatever, bc you reblogged a fic of mine, i’m pretty sure it was “common room” and that’s when i started getting notes and followers najajwjwj- you might not know that but i do 💀 i will forever remember that.

you literally were one of the first accounts ever- to follow me. and i won’t lie, i went crazy when u followed me because i love your fics so much! you are so funny and blunt too i swear 😭

and can we talk about your tom riddle fic? like?!the fact that you really showed tom’s true personality and character. every world had me enthralled further into the fic, the way you wrote him is exactly how i think tom riddle would act towards his s/o. his toxicity and gaslighting is too accurate.

moving on from the discussion of your fic, which is amazing, ily sm babe!!

@yoooespinosa

we’ve interacted a few times and when u texted me directly saying that you thought i was sweet, i literally went, “omg- people think i’m sweet” in a good way, not bad jkwajjw- can i just get started on your writing, because oh. my. fucking. god. it is the most captivating and heart breaking thing i’ve ever seen- the emotions that you put into every word completes the entire fic. every angst piece that you have written, made me cry or made something inside me just twist with sadness. it is truly lovely and magnificent.

how do ur fics not get thousands of notes? because everyone should see what you write, it’s unfair that others haven’t seen your fics. when u explained your dream to me, i swear you practically wrote a whole fic 😭

i remember u said that you wanted to do a face reveal, but we’re scared. bestie what are you scared of? you look like an ANGEL!! and if anyone were to disagree, they are obviously blind. but ily bestie <3

@o-rion-sta-r

BESTIE BAE ORION i love you so much!interacting with you is honestly so fun. and i remember like literally yesterday we were trying to figure out ari’s time zone and we were freaking out. you, ari, and me all have a fucking time difference 😭 it sucks so much!

at least every day you ask me how my days been and i think that’s so sweet, because before i got on tumblr people didn’t ask that question. i appreciate that you ask me that and just random questions in general, because i love interacting with you so much. and you should start writing bby! i will reblog anything you write, also ily sm <3

@ilygw

we don’t talk a lot, but you seem like a fun person! i love seeing all the edits you post on here, bc honestly i need more ferret boy content. i know there is a lot, but i feel like i’ve seen all of them. until i see you posting a new edit and i’m like, “okay… i guess i haven’t seen every draco edit” but that’s all i have lol, ly!!

@arcaneslut

to be honest, you seemed so intimidating to me. i know you said you’re not, but to me you seemed really scary even though i knew you weren’t 😭 i just interacted with you recently and you are so sweet i swear! i love all ur fics, especially “and then i felt nothing” because when i read this fic you better believe i was crying so hard- to the point where i couldn’t breath- everything was written so beautifully, i couldn’t believe it.

i love how one thing we share in common is losing our phones 💀 but i just wanted to say thank you for explaining the whole sleepover and celebration things to me! even tho we just started interacting i already love u!!

moots bc i’m in love with all of them: @just-a-smol-spoon @dreamy-clousds @dracoskinks @unedibledaisyduck @thatsassyhufflepuff @a-aexotic @l0vely-lupin @gothboutique @wolfstar4lifee @littlemissnoname13 @deatthfairy @arcaneslut @ladyvesuvia @laceycallisto @dracossweetprincess @the-lonely-poet-loves-to-weep @realityblocked @harmqnia @yoooespinosa @opalsheart @lilscloud @cupids-crystals @mellifluousart @lunas-kisses @malfoysmainb @klauscarolove @crystxlss @beforeoursunsets @marrymetheonott @queeriacs @electriclocean @dlmmdl @o-rion-sta-r @sfdlm @ilygw @desiredmalfoy @underappreciated-spoon-321 @draco-and-tom @hellounicorn @mugglesthesedays @dracomalfoys-wh0re

if i didn’t tag u it’s bc i can’t tag more than 50 blogs :(

[anothers-trash-my-treasure]

Stoners

Stoner Snaf <3 So this one's kinda weird, I based it around the Watch Me from fictober so if you haven't already read that, I suggest reading it first! It's also set in a post COVID world because I need something to look forward to. Disclaimer; I wrote this while very high last night and didn't really edit it so it's probably a mess.

Pairing: Merriell Shelton / Female Reader

Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex (don't do this), recreational drug use, if you squint there's some kinky undertones but nothing too crazy.

Word Count: 4.4K (i haven't written something this long is forever omf)

Tags: @edteche2 @xmxisxforxmaybe @diasimar @txmel @gloriousdarkangelsworld @paradoxicaltornado @404-not-found-xix

Enjoy and happy 4:20

~

Ever since the pandemic, you hadn’t been able to do crowds. Not like you used to anyways. It killed you a little bit because all the things you missed doing so much involved crowds; concerts, clubbing, festivals, travelling. Getting back into the swing of things took time. The feeling of being surrounded by people you don’t know set every one of your nerves on fire in the worst way. It felt so...

Uncomfortable.

This is probably why you didn’t last more than a half-hour at some seedy dive bar your friends had dragged you out to for the night. They begged you to go out with them, if even only for a drink or two. It had been so long since the whole group had a proper outing, it was nice to have the gang out for a night. Until some dickhead grabbed your ass and whispered some unwanted filth in your ear, his breath hot and unpleasant on your skin. After that, you were quick to grab your bag and say goodbye to your friends. You knew they were disappointed, but you could still feel the strangers breathe on your skin like it had been singed.

You welcomed the cool air of the night, feeling it immediately cool your skin. You hadn’t realized how warm it was inside but now that you were out in the open, you felt better. The burning on your neck had settled, more of an afterthought now. Your brain still felt overwhelmed, and you knew exactly how to remedy that.

Sitting down at one of the picnic table benches nearby, you began to sift through your bag when a voice rang out through the quiet streets.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,”

You’d know that slow drawl anywhere, you’d go so far as to say it near haunted your dreams.

“Merriell Shelton,” you beam up at him as he walks closer to you, nodding at his friends to continue without him, “I haven’t seen you since-”

“That last party.” He nods, smiling at you in the way where you’re not quite sure if he’s flirting with you or if he’s just that naturally gorgeous, “when I taught ya’ how to smoke.”

An excited smile bubbles onto your face and you shake your head at him, “Oh, you’d be so proud of me. I’ve grown so much since then.”

You resume digging through your bag to find your various forms of weed paraphernalia you carry with you. The pandemic had not been kind to you, and some days it felt like the only thing keeping your head above water was your bedtime joint. It wasn’t something you were terribly proud of, but it helped your anxiety and that was good enough for you lately.

He barks out a laugh at your response and you can’t help the pride the swells up inside of you knowing that you made him laugh like that. He comes to sit on the bench, placing himself close enough that it wasn’t weird, but far away enough so that he wasn’t directly in your space.

“What, you some kinda stoner or something now?” he asks as you layout your joints and pipes. He whistles, a mix between being impressed and mocking, when you pull out your vape too, “Damn, you got a bong in there too?”

Now it’s your turn to laugh, “No, that stays at home.” you say with a wink, “So, how have you been?” you ask, starting to put everything but your joints back in your bag.

He blows out through his lips and laughs a little, running a hand through his hair, “Been better lately, that’s all that matters, I s’pose.” He watched, something like a weird form of pride in his eyes as you pull out a joint and light it carefully. You certainly can’t complain, you forgot how great it felt to have his eyes on you.

You hum knowingly, “That’s what I keep telling myself, anyway,” you hold the joint up hesitantly.

“I don’t usually share my joints anymore, but if you’ve got your shots...” you shrug, your sentence tapering off. It’s a weird world you live in now, no one quite knows what’s socially acceptable anymore.

He smirks at you, amused, taking the joint from your fingers, “I’ve got my shots alright,”

His eyes don’t leave yours as he brings it up to his lips and takes his hit. He’s not even doing anything out of the ordinary, but he looks like he’s up to no good in every way. It’s like he’s just taking you in as if comparing you to the girl he met years ago.

“You changed,” he comments on an exhale, passing it back.

You nod, laughing softly, “Turns out I get really impulsive when I’m alone,”

He scoffs, “tell me about it,” and then he’s shrugging off his hoodie to reveal a handful of new tattoos covering his skin, “Buddy of mine is an artist,”

You gasp, ‘ooo’ing at some of the more complex pieces. Without thinking your hand darts out to let your fingers drag against his forearm, following the linework of the ink. His muscle twitches beneath your fingers involuntarily and you’re reminded of how long you’ve gone without intimate touches like this. You wonder if it’s the same for him. Did he long to be touched so innocently like this too?

“They’re wonderful,” you say, pulling your hand away, still admiring from a distance.

“Yea, I like ‘em.” He shrugs, nodding at you to take the last pulls from the joint, it’s your weed after all, “You get any?”

You shook your head, “No, surprisingly enough every time I finally convinced myself to book an appointment, shops got shut down again.” You said, only kind of bitterly.

He laughs and you scowl at him, “Aw, baby, don’t be like that,” he laughs, swatting at you half-heartedly, “Look, I betcha I can get you a discount at my buddy’s shop.”

You eye him suspiciously, “I can’t tell if you’re kidding.”

He puts a hand to his chest with a lazy smirk, “On god,”

You bite your lip to suppress a smile, shaking your head lightly, “Okay fine but that just means you’ll get to see a whole lot more of me,”

His smirk turns darker, into something more playfully suggestive, “I have no problem with that,”

A silence fills the space between you as you both take each other in. You had really only hung out with him that one night and nothing had really happened. You just sat and talked really. You talked for a while. You talked so long you didn’t realize the party had ended until your friend came to get you. You exchanged numbers and then just a few weeks after, you were instructed to start isolating. You’d kept up a steady social media friendship since then, but you had missed actually talking to him. He wasn’t much of a texter. The silence only lasts a moment, but it feels thick with tension.

“You look good by the way,” he comments, leaning ever so slightly closer to you, “I meant to say that earlier but then you made me strip for ya-”

“Whoawhoawhoa!!” you sputter through a laugh, “I did not make you do anything, you did that yourself.”

He shakes his head at you, “Nah, that doesn’t sound like me.”

You're giggling at this point, “You’re ridiculous.”

He beams at you, clearly pleased with himself for the moment. It settles for a second as he looks at you, eyes softening a bit before he glances down, nudging your knee with his a bit, “I missed you,” He cringes a bit, “I know it’s weird to say but, I did.”

Your nodding before you can even think to play it even a little bit cool, “No, I get it,” you assure him, smiling softly, “I missed you too, actually.”

He hums, smiling a rare soft smile at you before changing the subject, clearly wanting to shift the attention away from his moment of vulnerability, “So why aren’t you inside?” he asks.

“Oh,” you glance back at the bar behind you, having forgotten it was even there, “I was heading out, I wasn’t really in the mood for dive bars tonight.”

He nods, “The crowds right?” you nod and he’s talking again before you can ask him how he knows that, “I get it, sometimes being so close to that many people again makes me wanna crawl out my skin.” he chuckles.

You nod, a weight lifting off your shoulders to know you’re not alone, “Exactly, it’s not something I’ve gotten used to yet.”

“Well, can I walk you home?” he offers with a smile, “I’m in no rush to head in there,”

You smile and nod, “I’d like that,”

~

Somehow he had ended up on your couch. You weren’t entirely sure when walking you home had turned to him being on your couch, but you certainly weren’t complaining. You were both pleasantly high, talking anything from movie theories to possible dystopian futures and alien invasions.

“Look, I’m jus’ sayin’ that if I was an alien, I wouldn’t wanna fuck a human, are you kidding?” he reasons, eyes squinted as if he’s offended and your laughing so hard you have tears in your eyes, “Nah, I’m goin’ for a much cooler species.”

He watches you as you fight back giggles at his ridiculousness, a lazy, grin settled on his face. He reaches for his jacket that’s slung across the arm of the couch, reaching into his pocket to pull out his own stash and you gasp, mocking offence.

“You had your own weed all this time and you’ve been smoking mine?”

He rolls his eyes, settling the joint between his lips and lighting it. He inhales slowly, watching the tip as it sparks to life, eyes flicking back to you as he exhales, “I was gonna share,”

He holds out the joint for you, however as soon as you go to steal it he holds it back, just out of your reach, “what’s the magic word?”

“Oh my god, are you kidding?” you ask through a laugh, straining forward further in an effort to reach it but you’re hindered from the way you’re sitting. You make grabby hands at it instead.

“Ya want it or not?” he asks, eyebrows raised expectantly. There’s a tension between the two of you, still mostly playful but turning ever the more thick as the moments pass by.

You huff, getting comfy again in your spot, keeping your hand stretched out lazily, “Please,”

As soon as the word leaves your lips you can see his eyes get darker, that infuriating smirk only stretching across his face and you’re so mad that that’s all it takes for the playfulness between you to shatter into pure sexual tension.

Without a word he hands you the joint, enjoying the way you quickly bring it into your mouth for a deep drag to calm your rising nerves. It’s infuriating, how good he looks like this. All calm and relaxed on your couch in the low living room light, curls messy and looking at you through hooded eyelids. You want him. Just his eyes on you like this has a warmth pooling in the pit of your stomach.

You try to play it cool though, taking another slow drag and enjoying the way the smoke rises up around you. His eyes zero in on your lips, watching with a peaked interest as they wrap around the filter, watching the way the smoke escapes them. Neither of you say a word for a while. Just sitting in a comfortable quiet, a forgotten Spotify playlist playing in the background as you pass the joint back and forth.

He didn’t make his move until the final few hits of it. He shifts to sit straighter on your couch, a little more proper. What left his mouth was anything but.

“C’mere,” he says lowly, cocking his head to the side and gesturing to his lap, “gotta nice seat for ya,”

You don’t hesitate to comply, your high erasing any ideas of playing hard to get. You maneuver yourself as gracefully as you can, swinging a leg over his and settling there, straddling him comfortably with his hands on your hips. Once you're settled he raises the joint to his lips, taking in the last drag, eyes glimmering in the low light of the room. He holds it for a second, one hand moves upwards to cup the back of your neck and pulls you in closer.

Your lips are so close, the tension crackling between you like electricity. He tilts his head ever so slightly, lips parting to exhale the smoke into your mouth. You inhale on impulse and your mind goes blank as your lips brush ever so slightly together. You knew people said shotgun kisses were hot, but you had never truly believed them until now.

You know you should pull away to exhale, but you can still feel his lips brushing against yours and your mind is dizzy from the weed and from him and you can’t take it anymore. You close the distance the rest of the way, kissing him slowly through your exhale, smoke slipping through your lips as he returns the motion.

You kiss him like that for a while, enjoying his hands on your waist and the feeling of his chest beneath your hands. You were quickly realizing that Merriell was his own kind of drug. You’d only had a little taste of him and yet you found yourself craving more. His fingers flex against your body and you can’t help to low noise that slips out of your throat. It only spurs him on, emitting a growling sound of his own as he tugs you closer, dragging you against his growing erection. Your hand slides into his hair in response, feeling like you’re so high on weed and him that you might just fly away.

“Is this okay?” he asks against your lips, letting his forehead press against yours while he waits for your response.

You hum your affirmative, nodding your head quickly while diving back into for another kiss, this one much more ravenous than the last. God, you felt like you were starving for him. You couldn’t get enough at the way his tongue slid against yours, the feeling of his hands gliding up and down your body. They continue down the curve on your spine, settling once they reach the globes of your ass.

“You don’t know how many times I thought ‘bout this,” he mumbles, pulling away to stare at you teasingly through hooded eyelids. His accent, already a slow drawl, comes out much thicker when he’s high like this. It washes over you like honey. He smirks at you and before you can begin to wonder what he’s up to he brings one of his hands down in a sound smack against your right ass cheek.

You gasp at the feeling, dulled by the layer of your jeans but rippling throughout your sensitive skin nonetheless. You laugh lowly against his cheek, “likewise,”

He bites his lip on a grin, capturing your lips in a single, filthy kiss as if he knows exactly what it’ll do to you. Your hands wander up under his t-shirt, nails digging in sightly, just as a preview, returning the favour.

Like a switch, he’s on you a little more urgently and things begin to move faster. His hands tug on your shirt impatiently and you obediently part to take it off, shucking your bra off as well, and feeling pleased when he follows your lead. Your hands explore each other's bodies, every inch of new skin. It’s not long before he switches positions, standing up and dropping you back on the couch so that this time you’re laying on it properly. Without wasting a moment, you wiggle your jeans off, tossing them somewhere over the coffee table and taking in the way his eyes darken further at the sight of you.

He crawls his hips between your legs, capturing your lips in a messy kiss before starting to trail them down your body. Your high has your skin feeling so sensitive, every soft brush of his lips feeling like a shock of electricity through your body. He spends time on your breasts, marking and kneading them with his hands, enjoying how responsive you are beneath his ministrations. Though he doesn’t spend long there, clearly more interested in another prize.

He settles, this time his shoulders keeping your legs spread. He presses a soft kiss to your inner thigh, lets his fingers dust over your panty-covered pussy. Your muscles twitch at the feeling, and you feel your cunt clench around nothing. He looks good there, tattoos cover his skin and you long to be able to leave something that permanent on him. Fuck, you want him so bad.

He grins at you, knowing exactly how impatient you must be feeling. And that bastard uses it to his advantage. Sucking marks into your thigh just to watch your squirm. Eventually, he pulls your panties to the side, letting his fingers slide through your folds. He whistles lowly between his teeth.

“Mmm, baby, you this wet for me already?”

The whimper that leaves your lips is pitiful, your hips twitching in an attempt to get the pressure where you need it. He chuckles under his breath, eyes darting between your heat and your face, “Look at you,” he near coos, letting his thumb trace circles around your clit, watching as your mouth drops on a silent moan, “You want it so bad, don’t cha? Sweet thing...”

“Are you gonna be an asshole like this all night?” you ask, breathless but trying to redeem some of your dignity through what little wit you have left.

He laughs, sinking a finger into your heat just to watch the pleasure ripple across your face, “Don’t pretend like you don’t love it.”

And he’s right of course. You do love it, love the way he comments on how wet you are for him, almost mocking. Love the way he’s taking his time to find the most sensitive parts of your body and using them to his advantage. You let out a breathy moan as his finger brushes your G-spot.

The sound must do something to him because within a second he's attaching his mouth to your pussy with a growl, not even bothering to remove your panties before doing so. The heat of his tongue on your clit as his finger works that sweet spot inside of you turns your breathy moan into one much louder.

He’s good with his mouth because of course, he is. Within moments you feel like you're right on edge. And the smug bastard knows it too if the amused glint in his eyes is anything to go by. Your one hand twists in his curls, encouraging his movements while your other works at your nipple.

“God,” you whine, tugging at his hair as you feel heat wind up your spine. You swear you’ve never felt this good. It only takes another flick of his tongue against your click before your orgasm rips through you, thighs attempting to squeeze around his head, stopped by his free hand holding your one leg open so he can work you through it. Your body twitches in its aftershocks, mewling pathetically when the simulation starts to ride that edge between pain and pleasure.

“It’s just Merriell, actually,” he supplies when he pulls away with a smirk.

“I fucking hate you,” you breathe out, pulling him up your body so you can kiss him again, despite your words. He laughs, moaning softly against your lips when your hand finds the bulge in his jeans.

He kisses you for a while, letting you paw at him for a bit before he pulls away to work them off his body. There’s no real rush, the high allowing you to take it slow and enjoy the moment as opposed to the frenzied fucking drinking tends to lead you to.

You whine and he laughs at you, low and cocky as he leans down for another wet kiss, “You hurtin’ that bad for it, baby?”

You beam up at him from your place on the couch, feeling comfy and sexy with the way his eyes trail across your skin, leaving a tingling feeling in their wake. You shrug, watching with interest as he rids himself of his briefs, admiring his cock as he awaits your response.

“It’s been a while,” You say, distracted as you anticipate the stretch required for your body to accommodate him, ‘I’m excited, sue me.”

His hands use your hips to drag you closer to him, lifting one leg onto his shoulder while letting the other wrap around his body. He leans down to kiss you and you only have half a second to wonder the last time your legs were stretched like this before the feeling of his cock at your entrance steals the breath from your lungs.

Your mouth drops open, a moan caught in your throat as he slowly sinks into you. Your eyes roll back, shamelessly enjoying the stretch as he sinks, inch by slow, pleasurable inch. He continues the slowness, but you’re not sure he’s doing so on purpose.

When your eyes focus again you see the definition of bliss on his face as he thrusts slowly in and out of you, moaning lowly in his throat.

“Fuck,” he says, drawing the word out through gritted teeth, “that’s it, takin’ me so good.”

His thrusts begin to pick up, still fucking you slowly but with more force behind them. Each sharp movement of his hips as the tip of his cock dragging sweetly against the deepest parts of you, and it feels so fucking good. In the moment, it’s intense. He’s folded over you, holding your leg against your chest so he can suck and bite at your neck as he fucks you. You can’t help the filthy moans you let loose in his ear, one hand fisted in his hair while the other digs your nails into the smooth skin of his back.

“Merriell,” you gasp, feeling distinctly insane with the pleasure you're feeling. Your head drops back onto the couch, body jolting with each thrust of his hips. It’s good, god, it’s so good. But the need that burns through your veins makes you impatient, “Let me ride you.”

The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them, but it’s a suggestion he is clearly open to acting upon. He quickly pulls out, sitting back in his original position and pulling you on top of him.

“Be my gu-” he doesn’t finish his sentence, instead tapering off into a moan as you waste no time in sinking down on to him again, “Christ,”

You waste no time. Quickly stabling yourself with your hands on his shoulder and maneuvering yourself up and down on his cock. Now it’s your turn to watch him. Watch him as his eyes roll back and his hands grip your hips with a vice-like grip. That smirk never strays from his face though, clearly enjoying himself.

“You look so pretty like this,” he talks, bringing a hand down on your ass again, loving the way it spurs you on, “talk to me baby, tell me how it feels.”

You moan, loud and borderline pornographic, “You feel so good,” you breathe, biting harshly down on his lip, savouring the growl that vibrates through the both of you, “Oh, fuck, Merriell, you feel so good,” You emphasize your words with a particularly good roll of your hips.

You can tell he’s getting close by the way his hips start to snap upwards to meet yours and the way his brows furrow in concentration, “Fuck, baby girl,” he groans, unaware at the way the nickname makes you melt, “tell me you’re getting close. I wanna feel you cum around my cock.”

You nod immediately, pulling on his hair so you can capture his lips harshly, letting him bite your lip and pull your hips frantically against his own, “yes,” you whimper, “yes, yes, fuck imgonnacum,” you rush out, feeling like every touch he’d ever laid on you compiling into this one moment. It’s completely overwhelming and for a moment, you blackout.

When you come to he's kissing at your neck, hands massaging and pull at your ass, helping you ride of the aftershocks of your orgasm. His sounds have turns high and desperate against your neck, hands gripping at your skin so hard you think you’ll have bruises tomorrow. He needs you to keep going. Give him something.

The small, dare you say whimpery, “Oh baby, please,” has you moving quickly, almost as desperate to make him finish as he is to finish.

In the blink of an eye, you’ve lifted yourself off of him and onto your knees in front of him, quickly enveloping his entire length into the warmth of your mouth.

“Oh fuck, baby,” He moans urgently, both hands coming to tangle in your hair as you work your mouth over his cock, eyes trained on his face, “Fuck, I can’t-”

You hum, encouraging and within seconds you feel him reach his climax. His head thrown back, hips twitch upwards into the welcoming heat of your mouth, a low long moan pulled from his throat. He lets you bring him down, continuing to suck and lick softly at his spent cock, eyes lazily following your every movement.

When he finally pulls you up off the floor it’s to kiss you, lazy and heated. You collapse basically on top of him as you kiss, unbothered by the smallness of the couch and the cold air that bites at your cooling skin. He makes a noise in his throat when you pull away, watching in amusement as his eyes barely open to look at you.

“‘M so fuckin’ high.”

It pulls a laugh from you, bubbling up from your chest. He smiles, bright, relaxed and dazzling, “Hope you weren’t plannin’ on kickin’ me out because ‘m not movin’ for a while,”.

You rest your head on his chest, letting yourself sink into the moment with him, your own high coming back to you as you bask in the post-sex haze.

“You're still gonna get me discounted tattoos though right?"

[buckys-other-punk]

Hold on..THIS IS YOU?!

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader

Request: where she is a fanfic writer and Sebastian stumbles upon her blog and messaged her as well not letting her know who he was but being an open person she is as to who she was, sending pictures and all, and until one day, decides to meet with her and she is surprised that it was the one she was writing for?

Word Count: 3.6K

Warnings: fluff, sarcasm (of course) and cussing? i think that’s all

A/N: Hello my lovelies. I am sorry I haven’t been posting as much, but that’s usually how I roll..no jk I legit had no time to write because of my classes this semester, so if this sucks I’m sorry lol. I’m still trying to get back into my writing groove...Also don’t mind my minor mistakes 😅

A/N 2: Anyways I AM BACK AND this is my first request ever!! I’m so excited to write this, I am soo sorry this took forever, but hope I did your request justice and that you like it (and so do others). I feel like I wrote this kinda cheesy, but whatever.

[Y/B/N = your blog name]

As always lemme know if you wanna be tagged in my future works and feedback is very much appreciated. Enjoy! <3

Just another normal day without stress and a less anxiety filled world...no, today was actually awful. You were swamped with work and your best friend was complaining about her boyfriend. Let’s just say that the stress she was having with him was making you feel happy that you were single. Trying to relax you heated up some coffee (a/n: or tea) and sat on the couch of your small apartment. Grabbing your laptop you wanted to unwind reading. Probably some fanfics on Tumblr usually does the trick. 

After reading some pretty good marvel related fics by your mutuals, you got inspired to write some fics yourself. Opening up a new tab you began writing about your favorite actor, Sebastian Stan. That man literally makes your miserable day a little better. Sadly, like all the girls and women who fantasize over him, he doesn’t know you. But, whatever right? You can always use your imagination and conjure up a make believe world where the two of you are happily engaged and have a German Shepard puppy named Stitch. Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you opened another tab on your laptop to pull up your writing playlist, you began typing away on your keyboard writing a new AU where you’re the celebrity of the world you were creating and he was a huge fan of you. After you finished your new fic, you posted that immediately without edits because you were so excited to see people read it.

*across town*

“Have you guys ever read any fanfiction about your characters or yourselves?” the interviewer asked the pair.

“You know I’ve seen a few that were quite impressive. These writers are damn creative.” Anthony replied with a smile. “I will also not lie. I’ve read a few steamy ones and y’all are dirty.” he added with a slight disgusted face shaking his head towards the camera.

“What about you Sebastian? Have you read any?” the interviewer lady asked, looking over to the man.

“Honestly. I haven’t.” Sebastian chuckled looking back at her. “Maybe, if Mackie here finds a good one about me I’ll give it a read.” shrugging towards his friend.

“Oh man, I got a few that are worth reading.” Mackie laughed, rubbing his hands together.

“Hey, might as well share them with the world. Let’s give that writer a shout out!” she exclaimed, placing her notecards on her lap.

“Well, like I’ve said I’ve only read a bit, but I do have some blogs that I’ve saved. Maybe next time I’ll name drop a few and give fans some well deserved praise.” Anthony smiled looking at the two.

“Alright, well you better have a huge list for me.” the lady said with a smile looking at Anthony. “Thank you both again for your time. For everyone watching Falcon and the Winter Soldier comes out in March 2021.” She finished off the interview smiling and waving at the camera and the two men followed her actions as well. Once the cameras and mics were turned off the lady came back to the two men.

“Thank you again guys for your time” the lady said to the pair shaking their hands (a/n: ok let's pretend there is no corona in this world so yeah. Everyone is healthy and so is the world!). The two replied with a simple you’re welcome and another thanks in return.

“Wait, have you really read fanfiction before?” Sebastian asked his co-star as the pair walked towards their manager, who was waiting for them outside the room, getting their schedule for the pair’s next interview.

“I mean yeah. I got curious on what people were writing about us and our characters.” Anthony responded with a shrug looking down at his phone.

“Aren’t most of those like fifty shades of grey?” Sebastian asked, staring at his friend as stood near their manager.

“Only if you want them to be..” Mackie stared at his friend with a blank face as they came to an abrupt stop. “Nah man, I’m just playing. Some of them are steamy, others can be sad, like crazy sad and some are like tooth rotting cute. Like I recently read one that was with Captain America and this original character that the author came up with and it made me say ‘aww’ when I finished it. Me. A grown man said ‘aww’ after reading a fanfic. A FANFIC!” he added. Their manager quickly explained their schedule and walked them over to their car to head off to the next location. The two were seated at the back, while their manager sat next to the driver.

“You know what. Send me that story you read.” Sebastian said to Anthony.

“Are you sure Seb?” Anthony asked with a chuckle.

“Yeah, why not.” he replied with a shrug. “Might as well read a good story before our next interview.”

“Alright let me send it to you right now. Honestly I think this writer is one of my favorites. I don’t know if it's her writing style or how she portrays our characters, but she’s amazing.” Mackie said with a smile getting the fic he recently read and sending it to his friend. 

“So all her stories are good?” Sebastian asked, looking at the notification.

“I just said that she is my favorite writer.” Anthony looked at his friend with a ‘are you serious face.’ 

“Okay. Okay.” Seb said with his arms up in defense. After a few minutes of reading the fanfic Sebastian actually said ‘aww’ aloud just like Mackie after he first read the story.

“It was good wasn’t it.” Anthony asked with a toothy grin.

“Yeah this was really good. Y/B/N is a pretty good writer.” Sebastian said looking through your feed.

“You should tell her!” Anthony exclaimed.

“What, like make an account?” Seb asked.

“Well yeah, but I mean not your actual name of course. Make a fan account. Show these writers your appreciation, I know that if I were an author I would love that (a/n: wink wink). I’ve messaged a few writers complimenting their work without actually telling them who I am.” Anthony said, placing his hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“I’m gonna read more stuff from her before I message her.” Sebastian chuckled. Sebastian clicked onto your main blog page to find that you had just posted a new fic about him. “Wait, dude she just posted a new story...About me!” Sebastian exclaimed, showing his phone to Anthony. 

“Nice, but we have to finish these interviews. You gotta read it during your free time man, sorry to crush your dreams.” he chuckled, unbuckling his seat belt and getting out of the car. Sebastian sighed and followed his co-stars actions getting out of the car and continuing the rest of his day filled with interviews.

*later that evening*

After the interviews Anthony and Sebastian had dinner together at a fancy restaurant. During their dinner they talked about how crazy some interviews were. Sebastian brought up the subject of how Mackie publicly announced that he had read fanfiction. With that still stuck in his mind the two finished their meal and after parting ways. Sebastian took a cab and arrived at his apartment, changed out of his fancy suit to some comfy clothes and grabbed a bottle of water from his fridge. He walked over to his couch turning on the tv, not really paying attention to what was playing, grabbing his phone he opened the tumblr app finally creating an account.

*one week later*

Sebastian has read almost all of your works and texting Anthony almost every time after he has finished a new fic giving his reactions to each. He has liked and reblogged everything he has read from you and other writers, but he favors your stuff the most.

Mackie: dude you should tell her you like her stuff and stop texting me!

Seb: Alright I will, I just don't know what to say.

Mackie: Just say you like her work. It's as simple as that.

Seb: okay okay I will

Mackie: ok good, no stop texting my its legit 2 am

Seb: fine

Sebastian opened up the messaging area of the app and began typing away his appreciation to you. He didn’t know why he felt so nervous after he pressed send. Getting out of the app completely he tried to focus on whatever was playing on the tv. Then all of a sudden he heard a notification go off and his phone light up. Looking down on it he saw that it was a notification from you. Again his nervousness took place as he unlocked his phone to read the notification. The app opened and the direct message filled his phone screen.

(a/n: this is my first time using a fake dm thingy so just imagine that Seb is following you)

Seb: Holy shit dude, she actually replied back to me!

Mackie: Well of course she did, she's not a robot. But maybe she is since she’s up so late...

Seb: shut up and why are you still up? I though you were mad at me for texting you

Mackie: well you woke me up so what am i supposed to do

Seb: whatever I’ll let you go

Mackie: alright. bye lover boy 

Sebastian shook his head at the text, he went back to the app to reply back to you. “What should I say?” he said to himself. “Maybe she’s in a different time zone or lives across the world or something… Okay okay. Maybe be chill and say I hope i didn’t wake you? No that sounds weird.” he shook his head trying to come up with something to say. Eventually he fell asleep trying to think of what to say to you.

*the next morning/later that day*

Sebastian woke up with his phone gone from his hand. He quickly got out of his bed in panic to look for it. Maybe you had said something to him or he had said something dumb to you. Once he found his phone he quickly unlocked it to check and thank god he didn’t say anything stupid. But he didn’t say anything. He shook his head clearing his thoughts. “Alright I think I know what to say.”

Y/N’s POV

You woke up to the sound of cars honking, groaning you looked at your clock. “How is it already 10 am?” you said aloud to nobody in particular. You sat up on your bed and grabbed your phone scrolling through various social media apps. At the top of your screen you saw a notification from tumblr. Opening the app to the notifications section, you noticed it was a blog that had messaged you from earlier in the morning.

sebstan_fan: Nice to meet you Y/N. I’m Carter. I don’t know where you live, but I just woke up and had a dream about one of your fics. (wow I hope that didn’t sound creepy)

You smiled at the message, since you loved interacting with your followers.

y/b/n: haha its ok. I actually live near New York City and I also woke up. What was your dream about? (if i can ask)

Sebastian’s POV

Sebastian had just finished taking a shower and began preparing his late breakfast. “Holy shit she replied again!” he said to himself looking at the message.

sebstan_fan: Wait, you live near NYC! Me too! Wow such a small world. But anyways my dream was honestly just a reenactment of your fic.

y/b/n: that’s so crazy how we live near each other lol. But that's so cool how you dreamt about my work. You must have really liked it.

sebstan_fan: yeah it was really interesting how you wrote such a life like scenario.

y/b/n: thank you Carter <3

sebstan_fan: ok I now this is random, but what’s your favorite place to eat in New York?

y/b/n: ooh that’s tough. Let’s go with Lombardi’s since its the very first pizza place to open in the US

sebstan_fan: oh wow an excellent choice :)

*a couple weeks later*

You and your new tumblr friend have been talking about one another’s favorite hobbies and interests for the past few weeks. You feel like you have grown a new connection with your new friend and telling them about your shitty days at work. Today your best friend wanted to bring you with her and her boyfriend to some fancy restaurant. 

y/b/n: Carter, I’m practically third wheeling with her and her boyfriend. 

sebstan_fan: well that sounds awful. Where is she taking you?

y/b/n: idk to some fancy restaurant I’ve never heard of. Anyways she’s making me wear fancy clothes, but I just wanna wear my pajamas!

sebstan_fan: y/n come on. you gotta dress nice if other people are dressing nice too 

y/b/n: ughh ok I think I found something nice. *sends picture of yourself in an elegant dress* what about this?

Seb’s POV

Sebastian got a glass of water and sat back down on his couch. Unlocking his phone to see the new dm from you he spit his water out of his mouth wetting the coffee table in front of him. “HOLY SHIT SHE’S GORGEOUS!” he yelled aloud staring at his phone in awe of your beauty.

sebstan_fan: Y/N, you look amazing! That dress is literally making you glow!

y/b/n: stop you’re making me blush..my friend just pulled up. I’ll dm you later once this stupid night is over. 

sebstan_fan: alright have fun 

y/b/n: <3

Sebastian quickly called Mackie to tell him that you sent him a photo of yourself. 

“Dude, she is unbelievably gorgeous. I actually spit my water out all over my coffee table when I saw the picture. ” Sebastian said on the phone.

“Man you are so obsessed with her, it's kinda creepy.” Anthony replied through the phone.

“What? No man, we just clicked. We have a bunch in common and she’s really easy to talk to.” Sebastian gushed to his friend.

“Yeah, but she doesn’t know that you’re lying to her about your real identity. You’re like fucking Superman with a secret persona!” Anthony snickered at the man on the other line.

“Dude no, but I’ll tell her eventually that I’m me.” Seb replied back to Anthony.

“Well you better do it soon because I’m tired of hearing about you gushing over this woman.” Anthony huffed under his breath. “Anyways I gotta go so bye bitch.” 

Sebastian laughed at his friend hanging up the phone and heading to his room getting ready for bed. As he laid on his bed he couldn’t take his mind off of you in that dress. You were so open with sharing your life to him, a complete stranger, yet he couldn’t do the same.

*the next day*

y/b/n: Carter! I forgot to dm you once I got home, but that dinner was terrible. I hated every minute of it.

sebstan_fan: what happened? Also good morning :)

y/b/n: good morning, sorry if I woke you. But anyways my best friend and her boyfriend brought some dude to make it a double date and the guy was a complete douche. I couldn’t stand a minute being there.

sebstan_fan: damn I’m sorry to hear that. I bet if I was there with you the night wouldn’t have been so bad haha

y/b/n: creepy..jk But I bet we would have completely ditched my friend and her boyfriend lol

sebstan_fan: wait, I got an idea! I mean since we live around the same area why don’t we meet!

y/b/n: what like in person?

sebstan_fan: no through zoom, yes in person!

y/b/n: wow the sarcasm in this one, but that sounds like a lovely idea. I feel like I already know so much about you tho...

Sebastian huffed under his breath, “not everything.”

sebstan_fan: lol yeah but it’ll be different to meet in person. Anyways where should we meet?

y/b/n: lol that’s true. Well I know this small cafe that’s so cute and I heard they have pretty good pastries. It would be awesome to meet there :D

sebstan_fan: alright how about Saturday afternoon? You don’t have work right?

y/b/n: nope I’m off! but that sounds good to me! I’m so excited and nervous at the same time. Like what if you’re some creepy stalker...

Sebstan_fan: why would you accuse me of such a thing?!

y/b/n: lol you know i’m just messing with you. But I gotta go my friend is now calling me, probably about that douche from last night...but I can’t wait to see you Carter!<3

“Yeah, me too.” Sebastian said to himself smiling.

*Saturday*

You sat at the cafe where you told your new tumblr friend to meet you. You ordered a drink and once it was finished, you grabbed it and sat near the windows saving a seat for Carter. As you waited you pulled out your laptop and began on typing away a new fic idea drawing inspiration from the small cafe and the gloomy weather outside. 

“I’m sorry that seat’s taken...” you muttered to a man who pulled out the chain next to you, looking up at the figure. “Holy shit!” you exclaimed to the man who sat next to you.

“Shhhh...Please don’t say anything.” Sebastian whispered to you, sitting on the chair next to you and taking off his sunglasses.

“What? But how? You’re!? I can’t breathe.” you exclaimed erratically looking down at your drink.

“Hey, hey Y/N, just calm down and take slow deep breaths.” he said calmly placing his hand on your back.

“How the fuck do you know my name?!” you exclaimed again staring wide eyed at the actor. “Am I getting pranked or something? Where are the cameras?!” you nervously laughed looking around the empty cafe.

“No, you’re not getting pranked. It’s me Carter…” he said quietly rubbing the back of his head.

“You’re Carter?! I thought you were a girl!” you said looking into the man’s blue eyes.

“I may have lied about who I was, but I wanted to meet you.” he started as he stared down at the ground. “I didn’t want you to freak out knowing that it was actually me.” he said looking back up at you.

“Let me just gather my thoughts for a sec.” you said, putting your hand to your temples.

“Wait, why did you assume I was a girl?” he asked with a smirk.

“I don’t know! Carter is a unisex name.” you frantically said with a shrug. “And I mean most of my followers are female, so I just assumed you were one too.” you added grabbing your drink and taking a sip to calm your nerves.

“That makes sense I guess.” he said chuckling, looking out the big window of the cafe.

“This is so crazy that you are here. Sitting next to me and talking about my stupid tumblr blog.” you uttered. “Like you’re famous!”

“Yeah so what.” he looked back to you. 

“I mean aren’t you busy filming and stuff?” you asked the man.

“Nope, we just wrapped up the interviews a couple of weeks ago. I’m on vacation.” he said with a toothy grin, which made you blush. “Aww look she’s blushing.” he said sweetly towards you.

“Shut up. It’s not like I get to meet my favorite actor who I’ve had a crush on since forever sitting next to me and casually conversing with.” you muttered quickly hoping he didn’t hear your profession of love for him.

“You got a crush on me?” he smiled at you.

“Fuck you. I do not!” you exclaimed looking away from him.

“Aww I think you do.” he said, nudging your shoulder.

“Whatever.” you said under your breath trying to hide your embarrassment.

“Hey, I’m in awe too.” he began, which made you look at him. “It’s not like I get to see a beautiful woman who I like.” he smirked at you.

“I think I’m dreaming. Did you just say you like me?!” you asked pinching yourself back into reality.

“I mean yeah. I really like your work as a writer and the past what month we’ve been talking I think you’re a really cool and sweet person.” he said now blushing. 

“I bet you say that to all the women you meet.” scoffing at his comment.

“No I’m serious Y/N. I think you’re a really talented writer. And I think you’re also really pretty.” again blushing, but this time he looked straight at you.

“Oh, wow. Thank you so much Sebastian.” you hesitated, your cheeks heating up. “That means a lot coming from you.” you smiled.

“Of course. And also I wanted to ask you in person if after coming clear about who I actually am, if you wanted to go out sometime. I know its weird and all sudden but-”

“Yes!” you exclaimed quickly cutting him off. “I mean. I would love to.” you said more calmly. “God, I’m trying so hard to keep my inner fangirl in.” you huffed under your breath. 

Sebastian laughed at your comment and then asked, “Alright then. What about tomorrow I take you out for dinner?” 

“That sounds delightful.” you smiled at the man. The two of you fell silent watching the people who passed by the small cafe.

“Oh, but can I ask you one more question? Why are you wearing a hat? And shades earlier? It's legit rainy and cloudy as hell outside.” you asked, looking at the man with your head resting on your hand.

“I’m going incognito. I don’t want my fans to recognize me.” he replied, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Are you embarrassed of them seeing you with me?” you hesitantly interrogated.

“No, I just don't want them to interrupt our first date.” he responded with a smirk looking at you.

“Wait, this is a date?!” you exclaimed with wide eyes.

“Only if you want it to be sweetheart.” Sebastian smirked, winking towards you.

“Fuck you.” You said with a smile.

A/N: Yay you finished! Was that good? bad? cheesy? lemme know lol Again if you wanna be tagged in future fics, have any requests or just wanna chat hit me up! Thank you guys for reading and I hope you get excited for more stuff to come.

Tags: @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @sebtheromanianprince​ @aquabrie @who-the-hell-is-sebastianstan​ @princess76179​ @anbrax5553​ @wintersoldierissucharide @caplanbuckybarnes​ @miraclesoflove​ @kitkatd7 @msgreenverse @saiyanprincessswanie​ @fandomsandxfiles @hailmary-yramliah @coffeebooksandfandom​ @thefallenbibliophilequote

^please lemme know if you wanna be added to future works or removed for tags^

[jwritesandrambles]

“Supposed to Be”

Hi there! Yeah I still barely use tumblr but hey lookit I did the wrote thing down!!!!

I would like to give a bit thank you to @schweeeppess and @dragonsworn05 for editing my messy dyslexic rambles. @noroomforcream and @just-a-little-in-over-my-head  did some really cool art for this! 

(if I missed tagging someone, it’s not personal I appreciate you so much, I’m just posting in a rush mwauh)

Jason was back in Gotham. For the second time since he died, actually.

The last time hadn’t gone well. Technically, it had gone according to plan--for the most part--but Jason was still shambling together the broken pieces of his mind. Back then in December, all that was left of Jason were the shards of hurt and anger. He had been living for nothing but the idea of someone else’s death. Coming back to the real world, away from the sheltered and hidden places of the League of Shadows and the All-Caste, seemed to bring a bit of him back. Seeing Bruce, talking to him…everything that went down, and the reminder that he cared about him--loved him, even--it woke something up in Jason. Something that he thought had died along with him and never came back. 

He had spent a year by himself, taking any mercenary jobs he could get, trying to find something other than the all consuming anger that had fuelled him for the past few years, but his travels didn’t matter now, as he stood in a back alley of Gotham, the protective red helmet tucked under his arm. He wished his replacement, Tim Drake, hadn’t chosen this particular alley to meet up in. 

The balcony and rickety old fire escape were unforgettable to Jason. It was where he had met the Bat, after trying to jack the tires off one of those many damn expensive cars that Bruce had. Not only where it began, but where he once thought it would end. It was only a year ago he had stood, gun trained on Bruce, the man he had, for a time, called father. His voice shook and tears rolled down his cheeks, “it would be so easy to kill you.”

Jason was ripped from his reminiscing as a soft thud signaled that Red Robin had landed behind him. Jason flinched more than he’d like to admit, but fought the urge to draw his weapon. Quick reflexes was a nice way of saying jumpy. 

“Hood,” The teen greeted. 

“Replacement,” Jason said with a nod, echoing Tim’s tone back at him, relaxing. 

“Weren’t you a replacement too?” Tim pointed out, seeming to take no offence. 

Jason shrugged, “True. I’m not denying it. Just as long as you know that’s probably what B expects. Another Grayson,” he mumbled. 

Sure, he was less angry than before, but that didn’t mean Jason wasn’t a bitter son of a bitch. 

Tim bit the inside of his lip, an awkward and slightly uncomfortable look on the visible part of his face. It flickered away and was replaced with a more professional, neutral expression as he cleared his throat. 

“Yes... well... We’re here for a job so let’s focus. You got all the information B sent you?” He was honestly trying his best, but he was hesitant about this mission. Could anyone blame him? Jason Todd had proven himself to be... volatile. The memories of Jason’s violence were all too fresh in Tim’s mind. 

“Yeah, I got it. I read the file over,” he mumbled. He puffed out a weak breath, “Scarecrow set up a chemical mixing shop by the docks, at least one shipment has come in, but we can expect more, right? Anything I missed?” Jason asked, rummaging through his coat pockets. 

He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He had been trying to quit, but he didn’t want to be getting distracted with cravings while trying to focus on the mission. 

Tim watched him quietly as he lit off, smelling the tobacco from up on his perch. 

“Um... yes, that’s all,”  the teen dragged his teeth along the edge of his lip. The skin felt slightly raw and sore from his empty minded nibbling. 

Jason started walking off down the alley, leaving a slight trail of lingering smoke in damp air. Tim followed. 

“So,” Jason pulled the cigarette from his lips, careful not to let his helmet slip from under his arm. He held it between his first and second fingers, “Uh.. Why’d you have us meet here instead of anywhere closer to the docks?” He asked, trying to break the awkwardly growing silence.

“Scarecrow has patrols circulating around the docks. We’re less likely to be spotted if we’re not waiting around there to meet up,” Tim explains with a little shrug.

Jason hummed a brief note of understanding, “Oh yeah, that makes sense. I’m, uh, I haven’t worked with anyone in... years,” Jason paused, taking another drag from the smouldering cigarette, “Y’know, really nothing team oriented since working with B. Even then I was a shitty teammate,” he laughed hollowly.

Tim nodded, thinking about what Jason’d just said. Had it really been that long? Maybe… maybe the fact that Jason was even admitting to being a bad teammate didn’t bode well. It could mean trouble for them later. If it was so obvious that even Jason could admit it, perhaps Tim shouldn’t have done this team-up. 

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Tim ran to catch up to Jason quickly, “Wait... how old are you?” He asked upon reaching him. 

“I’m t- uh... hold on, well... how long was I gone?” He asked Tim in return. 

“You were thought to be dead for five years,” Tim told him, in a tone like he was reciting a Wikipedia page written about the formally deceased, wayward Wayne boy. Now that Jason thought of it, he was certain Bruce had a file written up on him now. Bruce had written up for every major criminal in Gotham city. 

Jason let out a low whistle and soft huff, “I must be… twenty one now? Weird.”

“So... you didn't know how old you were till now?” Tim raised a brow, causing the mask to shift.

“Yeaahh,” Jason drew the word out sarcastically, pretending to took him deep thought to reconcile. “Somethin’ about the severe head trauma, dying, comin’ back, and being isolated from the normal world for years, all while being a wreck the whole time seems to have made my memory a lil’ fuzzy,” Jason said with a wry, sarcastic smile.

Tim seethed silently, letting out a series of apologetic mumbles, eyes dropping to ground ahead of him- it was a tactless and rude thing to ask, and Tim should’ve known that! 

Jason laughed weakly, hand quickly coming up towards him and... ruffled Tim’s hair? The boy hadn’t even had a chance to recoil. He was just confused; that was the last thing he’d expect from Jason.

The man stubbed out his cigarette and lumbered on ahead of Tim, dropping it in the trash, “Don’t worry about it, kid. I was just being a bitch, you’re fine.”

Tim opened and closed his mouth, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. A man who tried to kill him only a year ago had just ruffled his hair?! He decided not to comment on it, because-- after all--what the hell could he even say?

Tim cleared his throat again, “We should get into position, we’re almost there. Maybe get your, uh, helmet-thingy on?” He suggested. 

Jason glanced at the helmet- he’d almost forgotten he had it tucked under his arm. 

“Yeah, of course,” Jason said, lifting his helmet and plunking it on his head, “good reminder, Timbers.” His voice became modulated the second the helmet covered his head. His low, gravely, smokers growl of a voice, was nowhere near and deep and gravely as Bruce’s--but sounded like it took a step closer with every box of cigarettes--became a pitch lower still. An odd robotic twang edged his words, giving him a metallic, cyber sound.

Tim adjusted his own mask, making sure it was firmly in place before nodding to Jason. The two silently started up again, approaching a warehouse that was supposed to be locked until the next morning’s shipment. “Supposed to be” being the operative words. Instead, there was muted huffing and shuffling as two of Scarecrow’s workers uncomfortably hauled a large crate into the building.

Both Jason and Tim seemed to shrink into the shadows at the same instant; each becoming one with the wall. Jason drew his weapon quietly, earning a disapproving frown from Tim. “I’m not gonna kill them. Chill,” Jason whispered in that odd robotic voice. 

Tim seemed satisfied enough to quit pouting at Jason. They crept closer, making little dashes between hiding spots when the coast was clear.

Jason let out a breath of curse as his eyes fell about the giant, glass, canister. It was filled with a bubbling, sickly, arsenic green substance.

“No way, that shit is all fear toxin? Fuck! He’s got enough to blast the entire downtown!” His voice came through in a synthesized hiss.

“Worse.” Tim whispered, spying the large pressurizer on top of the glass container. “That’s just the liquid form. When he releases it, it’ll be gaseous. If it’s released from the container from a high vantage point, a small breeze could cover the entire city in minutes.”

The severity of the situation washed over what little of Tim’s features were visible from beneath the mask. 

This wasn’t just a quick little in and out operation anymore. One wrong move and there could have a small, yet very messy, catastrophic outcome.

Tim had to plan this carefully, because there was no way they could afford to mess this up.

He turned to Jason...or, rather, where Jason had just been seconds before. 

Jason had evidently had a similar train of thought to Tim’s. He’d realized this was a serious situation, though, instead of drawing the conclusion to re-evaluate, re-plan, and carry on with caution, or something sensible-- he seemingly forgot any sense of subtlety he had. Oh, God forbid carefully thinking his actions out, like any sane rational person would do. Or calling for backup, like anyone with a vague semblance of self-preservation.  No no, instead, Jason had decided it was best to act now and not waste a second with plans or any ideas of safety. He jumped into action.

Jason was already leaping over the crate the two vigilantes had been hiding behind seconds ago, as Tim let out a quiet imploring hiss of “Wait--oh no-”“ but it was too late.

Jason already had his gun drawn. 

“Scarecrow!” he yelled, “this ends now!” He fired at the box the two workers were carrying, sending it out of their hands and clattering to the floor. A series of shattering followed the initial crash as the contents shattered. Whatever chemicals that had been inside hissed loudly, a faint smoke rising from between the boards of the wooden box.

“Hood!?” The Scarecrow rounded to face who he knew as the ex-criminal, ‘The Red Hood.’

“In the flesh.” Jason kept his gun trained on Scarecrow, while a third worker who had been off to the side started to shuffle his way towards him.

“Thought you moved your little operation away from Gotham when the Bats got the better of you,” Scarecrow commented, not seeming pleased about the interruption at all. 

Scarecrow’s worker lunged at Jason. Tim kicked himself mentally and left hiding, kicking the worker --physically, not mentally this time-- back away from Jason. The third worker scuttled back, apparently deciding this altercation was above his pay grade.

Jason felt something he hadn’t really felt in a long time; it was a feeling akin to camaraderie. He had someone watching his back for once. If the circumstances hadn’t been so dire, he might have even cracked a smile. Or, rather, he might have felt a slight tug at the corner of his lips, at least.

“Well, yeah, the bats did get the best of me. Now I’m tryna give them my best. And that involves bootin’ your sorry ass out of here.”

“Quick witted, aren’t you?” Scarecrow tensed slightly. His eyes darted away from behind his mask for a moment. He was glancing to the side. Tim followed his gaze over to the-

Shit! The canister! If the bullet missed Scarecrow it would-

Tim knew what scarecrow was thinking, but it was too late.

“NO!” Tim shouted, helplessly watching as Scarecrow dove.

As expected, Jason pulled the trigger reflexively, but the Scarecrow had already ducked. The bullet made a resounding bang as it fired, hitting the large gas canister. 

Tim seized up, every nerve buzzing, every muscle tensed, every fibre of his being filled with an awful sinking sensation. The room was deadly-still. It was like something written by the hand of a fool-hardy novelist, who was paid far too much for over-the-top paperbacks; The bullet had embedded itself in the glass, acting like a stopper. A sickening series of cracks emanated from the canisters, as a thin spidery web formed across the glass. All tendrils originating from where the bullet hit.

Jason let out a low whistle, “Well. That coulda been disastrous.”

Tim couldn’t help but feel relieved, a stressed laugh escaping his lips. 

Scarecrow was scampering away, his workers already having pulled a quick disappearing act themselves, because, this wasn’t what he’d planned. 

“Don’t even think about it, Crane,” Jason said as he turned, taking a heavy step.

Said heavy step was apparently too much. The glass gave a shuttering groan, followed by a small hiss as gas began to leak.

Tim made an involuntary distressed sound. Something akin to an exhausted sigh mixed with a whimper. 

The one word that ever so eloquently graced Jason’s lips was, “Fuck.”

And the canister...

Burst.

The pressure placed on the glass had built up and could no longer hold.

Jason’s final step had been the breaking point, the spider work of cracks along the glass giving way with a great shatter.

Shards of the canister flung themselves across the room. The liquid that had been held within instantly began vaporizing into a thick, sickening gas. To anyone that had the misfortune of inhaling it, it felt as though the gas was trying --with every atom of its existence-- to choke the life out of its victim. It reached into their lungs, clawed at their insides, grabbing at their desperately beating hearts, and squeezed. It forced their brain to fill their body with adrenaline and hallucinogens. Tim knew this. 

He’d studied the Scarecrow’s fear toxin many times. He’d been exposed to it before, too. Tim knew this fear and knew he was helpless to do anything about it.

Tim was helpless to stop this. He had failed. He’d failed Bruce. He’d failed this mission. Because he was weak. He was weak, helpless, hopeless, a failure, a burden, unwanted. He was nothing more than a replaceable replacement. No one would care if he was gone, God, it’s not like anyone would ever notice! He was a forgettable nothing. Tim coughed and wheezed. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe!

Tim staggered. He tripped over his feet trying to get away from the intense fear that gripped his throat. Tim realized something physical was gripping his neck. The thing dragged him back roughly, towards what he could only assume was something horrid. Tim clawed at the thing gripping his throat. As he gasped for shuddering breath, he couldn’t help but begin to sob. He was going to die. He would die and no one would care. No one would even try to find him when he didn’t come home, they wouldn’t even notice because he was worthless, replaceable, weak, failure, helpless!

A new level of fear washed over Tim as he felt something cover his face, it encased his head. Tim could feel it squeeze his skull, he swore the pressure felt tight enough to crush his cranium like a tin can. It was claustrophobic. He felt his own shallow breath bounce back against his lips, because it had nowhere else to go. He was trapped and suffocating.

He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t BREATHE! OH--oh, oh no... no? Wait a moment... he COULD breathe.

Tim took a moment to try to get his bearings. He needed to remember how his lungs worked. He awkwardly sucked in a breath of filtered, recycled air. It tasted tinny on his tongue. Tim blinked the tears from his eyes. They rolled down his cheeks, and he became aware of the taste of salt too. There was the faint scent of stale tobacco and smoke. His mind was reeling as he processed each detail. He dragged tongue over his lips nervously, and began to chew at his bottom lip. Tim’s heart was still pounding and his hands were shaking. He raised his hands to feel his head, glancing at his twitching fingers as they passed in front of his face, confusedly. Everything had a red tinge to it. He pressed his hands to his head, feeling a hard smooth surface.

Tim’s brain felt slow and groggy, taking a moment to clue into what was on his head. Was it Jason’s helmet? Yes, yes it was Jason’s helmet, that was certain, but where was Jason? 

The thick gas still hung in a green fog, but the helmet seemed to be filtering the worst of it out. Tim swept his arm though the air, watching the gas clear slightly, before swooping in to fill the gaps. Tim knew he needed to thin this stuff out if he wanted to have any hope in finding Jason before tripping over him. He rushed through the room, feeling his way over to the door. Scarecrow’s men had closed it, containing them --and more importantly the gas--  inside. Small mercy the fear toxin wasn’t being released on the city though. 

Tim dragged his fingers along the wall. His senses were so heightened that it was almost overstimulating. It was likely due to the toxin, Tim guessed. He could still feel the rough brick as he scraped along, even through the tips of his gloves. It was oddly reassuring. A steady constant he could focus on until -thunk-  His hand bumped into a smooth metallic protrusion from the wall. Exactly what Tim had been looking for. 

“Bingo.”

Tim swept his other arm through the air again, doing his best to fan the gass away for him to get a bit of a better view of what he was hoping to see. A metal switch box, old and slightly rusted around the edges. Tim had been counting on any wearhouse by the docks having a ventilation system to keep the products safe from humidity. Of course, he was right. With some difficulty, Tim wrenched the switch box open. After straining to read faded, dusty labels through the gas in the air, he flipped what he hoped was the right switch.

There was a small whine of aching metal that hadn’t moved in a long time and Tim cracked into a grin underneath the helmet. 

He’d done it!

The fans kicked into a regular pace. The smooth ‘whoomp whoomp whoomp’ of turning blades filled Tim with a sense of muted triumph. The foggy haze of fear gas began to thin as the building began to filter it out, mixing it with the humid air. Tim figured it would be condensed and drip out to puddle with the dirty water in the alley behind the warehouse. If Tim was right, which he usually was, it wouldn’t harm anyone unless they decided to drink from the puddle water. Which was unlikely, but not impossible. It was Gotham after all.

Tim looked around the room as the gas dissipated. His gaze found its way to a shaking heap on the floor next to the shattered remains of the canister he had been standing before. The proud grin faded from Tim’s lips. 

That... that wasn’t a good sign at all.

“Hey, um, hood? Red hood, status?” He asked, the words felt strange as they left his mouth. Hearing his own modulated voice echo slightly in the room felt vaguely surreal. 

The heap of muscle and leather known as Jason didn’t reply. 

Seeing Jason’s twitching body on the floor emptied a hollow pit in Tim’s stomach. Jason had never seemed like he was even capable of fear. Capable of rage, capable of hurt, and capable of pain, sure, but fear seemed like something Tim would’ve assumed Jason was beyond. Something so... innate, that the unnatural nature of Jason’s second life would’ve swept it away. 

Tim made his way over, hesitantly rolling the helmet forward off his head. The fear toxin seemed to be thin enough now that it wasn’t harming him.  

“Ja-er, Jason?” Tim’s soft voice seemed thunderously loud in the quiet room. The only other sounds around were the fans quietly whirring away and, far more disturbingly in his opinion, the even quieter shaking breaths and distressed whimpering tumbling from Jason’s lips. 

Jason was not in good shape. He was shaking violently, hands over his head. His whimpers were punctuated by violent spasms that racked his body every few seconds, accompanied with a louder more pronounced cry. 

Tim felt the colour drain from his face. He quickly kneeled down, setting the helmet on the concrete floor next to them both with a slight clink. Tim grabbed Jason’s arm, trying to turn him on to his back. Jason heftily flailed the arm Tim pulled, unintentionally hitting Tim in the face. Tim yelped in surprise as a sharp pain sprung from his nose, warm liquid leaking down his face. The blood pouring down his face didn’t deter Tim much, the blood coursing through him  seeming to do the opposite for pain as it did the rest of his senses. The pain was slightly numbed--or, rather, it had become easy to ignore. He fought to wrangle both of Jason’s arms, quickly scrambling to sit on Jason’s torso, struggling to pin Jason’s arms down with his legs. 

Tim took off his mask. He knew it was against protocol, but an un-obscured face was easier to recognize when the toxin took hold, in Tim’s experience. 

“Jason? Jason, look at me. Can you hear me?” he asked quickly, holding on to Jason’s shoulders. He desperately hoped Jason wouldn’t throw him off. Jason’s eyes were unfocused, spinning around wildly all over the room. 

Tim tried to process Jason’s words, “No, not again, ple--I can’t I--it hurts! Fuck! It hurts,” Jason’s words became incomprehensible for a moment, then his fists clenched tightly. “I don’t want to die! Not again. Not again not again not again! He’s gotta come save me, take me home, he’s gotta! Shit, not again!“ he choked and broke off with a shout and another full body jerk. 

Tim was jostled but didn’t fall off, by some miracle. “Jason!” he tried. “Listen to me!” Tim put his hands on either of Jason’s face. Jason flinched away from Tim’s touch with a sob of “It hurts, it hurts, I can hear all my bones snapping, I’m dying, it’s crushing me, I can’t--I can’t--”

“I know,” Tim cut him off gently, “I know it hurts and--and you’re scared, but you’re not alone, I’m right here. I’m going to help you,” Tim tried to catch Jason’s focus. 

Jason’s roaming eyes stopped dodging around the room, and turned towards Tim. He kept looking from Tim’s shoulders, Tim’s chest, back up to his face and then to his eyes and back to his chest again. Perhaps not the ideal image of calming down but it was a first step. 

“Good,” Tim praised softly in relief. He ran his thumbs over Jason’s cheeks gently. Now more so than ever did Tim take notice of the scars on either side of Jason’s face. On Jason’s left cheek, there was a jagged line that traced from his cheek bone down to his jaw. A similar yet smaller one was mirrored on Jason’s right. Tim could understand why Jason flinched from him. He shook the thought from his mind, “See? We’re okay. Just try to breathe, in and out. You can do that, right, Jason?”

“No! No! I c-can’t, I’m crushed, I can’t. My--my lungs, they’re all full of blood, and mud, and dirt, and fuckin’ I dunno what!” Another violent thrash went through Jason’s body, almost toppling Tim off this time. “I can’t breathe, it hurts! I want it to stop hurting! How do I make it stop!?” 

“Uah--yeah, I know it hurts, but I promise nothing is crushing you. It’s just me, I’m light, and I’m here and I--I know it hurts I’m going to try to make it stop but I need to--” Jason thrashed, but Tim didn’t relinquish his hold on him, “--but I NEED you to stay still!”

Jason’s eyes finally locked on to Tim’s, “M-make it s-stop?” he echoed back to the smaller vigilante.

“Yeah, yeah I’m going to try to make it stop.” Tim slowly pulled his hands away from Jason, sitting back slightly, starting to fish through the many pockets and pouches attached to the strap around his waist.  

He almost always had the antidote on hand. Bruce had trained him and prepared him meticulously, making certain that Tim would be ready with everything they had at all costs. The only issue was it was enough antidote for him; almost seventeen, about a head shorter and ninety pounds lighter--nowhere near enough antitoxin for the two hundred and forty pounds of murder that was the shaking mass of Jason Todd slumped before him.

Jason dropped his head back against the concrete floor, beginning to mutter once again. 

“My fault. All my fault. I can’t--all dead.”

“No one is dead, Jason, everyone is okay,” Tim said, soon after feeling a small surge of triumph as he located his field fear toxin antidote kit. He opened it, quickly pulling out a small vial, and a syringe.

Jason’s eyes snapped to the syringe in Tim’s hand as he filled with antidote. Jason grew quiet for a second before starting to try to fight Tim off of him, “No, no no no no no no! Don’t go! don’t go! Not again, I can’t be alone, can’t be asleep he’s gonna kill us. Dad said he’ll get rid’f his mistakes!” 

Tim knew Bruce wouldn’t have ever threatened Jason like that. He could only assume Jason meant his biological father. 

“Said he would--don’t, don’t! It’s crushing me I can’t be alone!” Jason couldn’t keep hold of his own fears. They ran together, all mixed in to become some dread filled nightmare he couldn’t wake up from. 

Tim was lucky Jason was so sloppy in this state. If he’d had a bit more of his wits about him, Tim figured Jason would’ve easily shaken him off already.

“You aren’t alone!” Tim reminded Jason, struggling to inject Jason without hurting him. “This is going to make it stop, I promise!��� Well, that wasn’t fully true. But the dose would reduce it. 

When Jason wouldn’t hold still enough for him to properly gauge where the vein he needed was, Tim unceremoniously jabbed at where he hoped it was instead. 

Jason shouted, thrashing around like a heavy shark in a net being lifted out of water.

Tim pulled the empty syringe away quickly, letting Jason throw him off. He stumbled and crashed back down, landing on the concrete floor a few feet away. Tim only now realized how heavy his breath was as he watched Jason writhe freely on the floor before him. As Tim caught his breath, Jason’s movements gradually began to slow. The mutterings of fear faded into soft whimpers, then into deep breaths like Tim’s. Tim bit at his lip again. “Jason?” he asked, leaning forward slightly.

Jason groaned in response. He took a moment to collect himself as he grew conscious of reality again. Really, reality was a shit hole too, but it was a better shit hole. He shifted slightly, cussing under his breath. 

Tim felt an invisible weight lift from his shoulders; swearing like a sailor was promising in Jason’s case. 

He quickly scooted across the floor to him. 

“Hey,” Tim said in a hushed voice. “Jason? How you feeling?”

Jason--with what felt like the struggle of Sisyphus rolling his boulder for the millionth time--rolled over to face him. The white shock of hair stuck to Jason’s forehead with panic induced sweat. He puffed out a lungful of air in a feeble attempt to blow the hair from his face. Jason swiftly gave up on that and swallowed heavily.

 “I-I... yeah, yeah, I uh... I--okay. I’m feeling okay,” Jason rambled, looking dazed. He took up scanning the room again, hyper-vigilant to any danger.

Tim nodded slowly. He grabbed a water bottle that was shoved in one of his many pouches. He helped Jason sit up, just enough so he could sip at the water, and forced the bottle into Jason’s hands. 

“Drink,” Tim ordered, quietly. 

Jason’s hands still shook lightly, causing him to fumble with the cap in his hands. 

Now that the danger had passed, Tim finally had time to process what had happened; he often found himself acting and only having time to absorb the details afterwards. Details like that Jason had traded his safety and immunity for Tim’s. 

Why did Jason do that?

“Not... that I’m ungrateful,” Tim began hesitantly, “but that was a stupid thing to do, just… now- today,” he stumbled out awkwardly.

“I know,” gasped Jason after a long chug of water, a weak smile on his lips. 

“I mean--it’s like in those before flight messages on planes. Put your mask on before the baby’s or whatever,” Tim joked slightly. Tim’s nose wrinkled slightly, cringing just the tiniest bit as he realized he implied he was the baby in this situation, “Well, you know what I’m getting at…”

Jason seemed to only take even more amusement out of the teen’s regret. Tim never thought he’d see the day where he felt tension draining at the sigh of Jason Todd, a man that tried to kill him and about eighty other people, smiling. 

Jason laughed weakly, though it came out a little haltingly, as the shivering shakes hadn’t yet subsided. “Yeah, well, I d-did have my mask on. I just... gave it to the k-kid before the plane went down,” he mused. He didn’t really believe in his own point, and shook his head. 

“No, no you’re right. It was stupid and I know that.”

They fell into a slightly awkward silence for a second, the burning question still gnawing at Tim’s mind.

“Why?” Tim said, abruptly. “Er, why did you do that? If you knew it was stupid?”

Jason didn’t answer for a long moment. Instead stalling by taking another swig of water. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand before answering.

 “I don’t know,” Jason admitted, with a little smile. 

Jason was breathing heavily, but seemed more focused, “I didn’t... really think. Maybe I was just makin’ up for other stuff I f-fucked up or... dunno. I guess I j-just... I knew if one of us was gonna be safe, it had to be y-ou.”

Jason swore he could practically see the little loading sign twirl in Tim’s nerd-brain as the teen processed what he’d said. The mental loading bar filled, and Jason’s words seemed to click. Tim’s eyes dropped away, and he smiled a little shyly. Not an awkward or uncomfortable smile. Just complimented.

“Thanks,” Tim’s voice was just above a whisper, “ that was... really nice of you.” 

“It’s okay, don’t men-ention it. Like literally ever. It’ll ruin my rep,” Jason cracked a teasing smirk once again and Tim got to his feet laughing lightly.

“Annnnddd he’s back to normal,” Tim chuckled and offered Jason a hand. Tim yanked him, not without obvious difficulty, up to stand tall. Jason leaned on him for a moment before straightening, keeping a hand on Tim’s shoulder to steady himself. Tim quickly bent down and scooped up their masks from the floor where he’d set them down.

“Let’s get you home,” Tim hummed, putting Jason’s arm around his shoulders again when he stood.

“Hey, I’m fin-ne, you don’t have to take me back,” Jason argued, but Tim was already starting to lead him away.

“Too bad, I decided I am.”

“Rep-placement Robin number whatever you are--I am fine!”

“Sure you are, that’s why you can’t stand up right by yourself?”

“Shut up!”

“I speak only truth.”

The two bickered all the way back through away from the docks. All the way back through the city. All the way until they reached Jason’s apartment complex. Then they bickered some more. Though neither knew it yet, what had begun forming was the beginning of a close bond. One that nothing would be able to break.

[tillthelandslide]

Cute Moments : Henry Cavill Fake Instagram Post

Request from @thereisa8ella​: Maybe a insta Henry Cavill of cute moments together while at home relaxing or fitting in with his family🙏🏼❣️ New to your page but love what you do💗👌🏼

Tagged: @harrysthiccthighss @thereisa8ella @magdelen69 ​ (if you want to be tagged in my post please message me :)

Authours note: hope this is what you wanted and hopefully everyone else likes it too. Keep the requests coming because I am having so much fun making these.

your_username:

your_username moments like this ❤️ @henrycavill

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henrycavill damn we look cute ❤️❤️

fan6 the way he looks at our queen 😍

ynhenry4ever I want this 😍

  ↳ your_username it will come to you eventually ❤️ when I met Henry i had finally learnt to love myself, I was blossoming in my career, I had amazing friends and family around me but wasn't actively looking for love... Then I met hen and my world turned upside down. Love happens when you're not expecting it and it's epic ❤️ you'll have it one day because you're wonderful. You all are 😘

   ↳ ynhenry4ever thank you so much for replying, this made my year ❤️ I needed to hear that so thanks from the bottom of my heart. We all appreciate the time and effort you put into replying to us

henrygeraltfan he's so attentive, he's playing with her hair, looking at her like THAT and his hand on her leg... I want one

   ↳ your_username unfortunately he's limited edition but you'll find your own soul mate one day and trust me the universe is working its magic so I'm sure they're on their way

ynfandom will you marry me 💍 @your_username

   ↳ henrycavill sorry she's taken

   ↳ your_username I'm sure we can make it work 😂 @ynfandom @henrycavill

   ↳ henrycavill nope. Want you all to myself 😍

   ↳ ynfandom I so appreciate that you didn't say something toxic like "you're mine"

   ↳ henrycavill she's her own person and belongs to herself, I'm just the lucky guy she chose to share her life with @ynfandom

   ↳ your_username aww we love a genuinely respectful nontoxic man @henrycavill ❤️

   ↳ fan7 no toxic masculinity here, no sir-y

henrycavill:

henrycavill these views 😍

Liked by your_username and 1,238,000 others

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your_username they were truly amazing

    ↳ henrycavill I was talking about you

    ↳ your_username and I oop 🥺🤭🤫

joeybateyofficial would hate to be the people on the other side XD

   ↳ henrycavill liar 

freyaallan hope you’re having the best time

laurenhissrich glad to see you’re spending your time off well. Hope you’re spoiling her

your_username:

your_username my cuddly bear forever and ever @henrycavill

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henrycavill it's a honour my dear ❤️ just exposed my nickname though 😂

   ↳ your_username you love it really 💜

   ↳ henrycavill only from you 💜 

yourbestfriendsinsta miss you ❤️ hope Jersey is treating you well. Sending my love to the both of you

   ↳ your_username miss you too sweetie. It’s amazing here

   ↳ henrycavill we’ll have dinner with you and ybfbn when we’re back?

   ↳ yourbestfriendsinsta we look forward to it

henrycavill:

henrycavill when a selfie fails... But its good to be back home in Jersey with @your_username

Liked by your_username, durrell and 873,738 others

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your_username love you squish ❤️

hoeforhenry how does one human get that many likes and that many comments

   ↳ fan6 stupid comment. Have you seen him? He's fit... That's it

   ↳ your_username more importantly have you learnt about the kind of person he is, hard not love him when you find out he is the biggest nerd and biggest softy ever and the most caring person in the world and cares for animals and is passionate about his job and treats everyone equally and works his butt off and has the biggest heart...i could carry on but I think you get the point

   ↳ hoeforhenry we love that, made the first comment as a joke.

   ↳ your_username it's okay love no need explain, I've seen you comment before and you comment the most lovely things, some... Not so much

   ↳ hoeforhenry aww you notice me? I hate when people are rude about him he's such a nice guy and so much more beyond his looks. I mean obviously he is ridiculously good looking but he's so much more than that

   ↳ your_username well said ❤️

henrycavill:

henrycavill so nice to be back home with @your_username you're one of the cavills now

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fan1 wait what did y'all get married?

your_username not yet 😉 just a figure of speech 💙

fan4 everyone out here thinking they got married 😂 he just means his family accepted her

your_username I had such a wonderful time with you and your family. The Cavills are the best ❤️ thank you all for always being so accepting 😘

your_username:

your_username I would follow you to the end of the earth 🌎❤️ @henrycavill

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henrycavill the fact my mum took this kind of creeps me out 😂 but I'd follow you too baby ❤️

   ↳ fan6 ahhh he calls her baby. What? WHAT! my heart cant handle the cuteness 🥺

   ↳ fan7 you kiss in front of his parents? Bit gross, bit disrespectful

   ↳ henrycavill yes. Adults kiss in front of other adults, parents or not. You should see my parents 🤣

   ↳ your_username so lovely to see how in love your parents are. Still thankful to your mum for taking this

fan7 the way she is craddling HIS face... hella adorable

henryscurls curly henry is the best henry