#but this made me start thinkin of all the ideas i used to have about this AU

[anakinstwinklebunny]

TW: i have no idea what happened 🧍‍♀️ I'll try to use less vulgar words in next works - I know for some it may be uncomfortable and honestly I don't feel right with myself while doing it too

JAMES KELLY’s hands, stained with grease and calloused from years of hard work, gripped your hips with a force that sent shivers down your spine. His touch was rough, unapologetic, but the way his thumbs pressed small, possessive circles into your skin had you melting. “Look at you,” he rasped, his voice rough like gravel, thick with unfiltered desire. “You’ve been teasin’ me all fuckin’ day, haven’t you?”

Perched on the hood of his car, you could feel the cool metal against your thighs as his heat pressed into you, consuming every bit of space. His dark eyes raked over you, lingering on the way your dress rode high, exposing more than you’d usually dare. And Maker, the way he looked at you—it wasn’t just hunger; it was starvation.

“I didn’t—” you started, but he silenced you with a smirk, leaning closer until his lips brushed against your ear.

“Didn’t what? Didn’t mean to drive me fuckin’ crazy?” he growled, his stubble grazing your neck as his teeth nipped at your skin. “Bullshit, baby. You knew exactly what you were doin’.”

His lips were on you in an instant, crashing against yours with a heat so intense it left you gasping. The kiss was messy, desperate—his tongue sliding into your mouth, claiming every inch like it was his right. And still, wasn’t it? The taste of him, mixed with the faint hint of smoke and engine oil, had your head spinning.

When he pulled back, his forehead pressed to yours, his breath came in hot, ragged bursts. “Goddamn,” he muttered, his voice low, almost a snarl. “You make me lose my fuckin’ mind.”

His hands slid lower, pushing up the hem of your dress until it bunched around your hips. The low, filthy whistle that escaped him when he realized you weren’t wearing panties sent a flush straight to your cheeks.

“No fuckin’ way,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave. “You walked in here like this? Just waitin’ for me to take you apart?”

“James,” you breathed, squirming under his gaze, but he wasn’t having it.

“Quiet” he said, but his tone wasn’t harsh—it was raw, dripping with everything he was holding. His fingers teased between your thighs, dragging through your slick folds as his dark eyes locked onto yours. “You’re so fuckin’ wet, baby. Did you get like this just thinkin’ about me? Thinkin’ about my cock?”

Your breath hitched as he slid one thick finger inside you, curling it just right before pulling out and tracing slow, torturous circles around your clit. “Answer me,” he demanded, his voice a low growl.

“Yes,” you gasped, your hands clutching his arms as he worked you with an expertise that had you seeing stars.

“Good girl,” he muttered, his free hand gripping your thigh, spreading you open wider. “You wanna know what I’ve been thinkin’ about all damn day?”

You nodded, too breathless to form words, and his smirk widened.

“This,” he said, sliding another finger into you, stretching you just enough to make you moan. “This pretty little pussy, all mine to fuck, mine to ruin. And you, baby—so goddamn greedy for it.”

“Please,” you whimpered, your hips bucking against his hand.

“Oh, I’m gonna give it to you,” he promised, pulling his fingers away and bringing them to his lips, licking them clean with a groan. “But you gotta be patient. Let me take my time with you.”

He undid his jeans with a quick, practiced motion, freeing his cock and stroking it a few times as he positioned himself at your entrance. The tip teased against your slick heat, and you bit your lip, trying to push yourself onto him.

“Greedy,” he muttered again, shaking his head, but the amusement in his voice was laced with so much need it made your stomach flutter. He slammed into you in one smooth, brutal motion, filling you so completely you cried out.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder as he paused for a moment, letting you adjust. “So tight.. squeezing me as if I were your lifeline”

He didn’t wait long before he started moving, his hips snapping against yours with a rhythm that was punishing and perfect. Each thrust sent shockwaves through your body, your hands scrambling for purchase against the hood of the car.

“You hear that?” he rasped, his breath hot against your ear. “That’s the sound of me fuckin’ you like you’ve been beggin’ for all day.”

The wet, obscene noises of your bodies moving together filled the air, mingling with your gasps and his low groans. You couldn’t hold back the cries that spilled from your lips as his cock hit that perfect spot inside you over and over again.

“James,” you whimpered, your body arching into him, desperate and overwhelmed. “I’m so close.”

“Yeah?” he growled, his hand sliding between your bodies to circle your clit with his thumb. “Then come for me, baby. I wanna feel you.”

You shattered around him, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your walls clenched around him, and he cursed under his breath, his thrusts growing sloppy as he chased his own release.

“Damn,” he groaned, pulling out at the last second and spilling himself across your stomach, the heat of it sending another shiver down your spine.

But he wasn’t done—not even close.

Dropping to his knees between your legs, he spread you open again, his tongue sliding through your folds to lap up everything you’d given him. His stubble scratched against your thighs as his mouth worked you over, his hands gripping your hips like he was afraid you’d disappear.

“You taste so sweet,” he muttered, his voice muffled against your flesh. “Could eat you for hours, baby. Days, even. You’d let me, wouldn’t you? Let me keep you right here, keep you coming on my tongue until you’re too wrecked to even move.”

You couldn’t respond—not with the way his tongue was circling your clit, not with the way his fingers slid back inside you, coaxing another orgasm from you with devastating precision.

When you finally came again, trembling and gasping his name, he pulled back with a smirk, his lips and chin glistening. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your thigh before standing and pulling you - his little doll - into his arms. “You’re mine, baby. Every inch of you belongs to me.”

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @deceptiive @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan

(let me know if you want to be on the list or be out)

[chickenoptyrx]

So since Bulma talks wonders about Goku to Trunks, I feel like he, consequently, feels somewhat admiration for the guy; how would broly feel about this? Also, in your AU, would Trunks still need to travel to th future?

So Disclaimer: at this point please understand im more interested in just drawin goofy shit w this AU. r.i.p to all the ideas but they were half baked anyways :T

kinda said this before but broly doesn't know who 'goku' is and doesnt care. Trunks speaks really highly of gohan more often than goku and to Broly these are just dead people he is unimpressed by (hed only realize who goku was once he was physically near him, at which point...) lol

But yeah, i think Trunks definitely has a lot of second hand admiration for Goku, even if a lot of it is him projecting his first hand admiration for gohan onto someone both gohan and his mom thought very highly of.

As far as time travel goes, a minor detail i really like is this bit where it seems more like the whole time travel thing is more bulmas plan-hes actually a bit resistant to it and wants to avenge gohan on his own.

Hed probably still go back to give goku the medicine tho. Just yknow after he beat the androids :U coukd probably do a whole thing about how he doesn't know about cell in this TL so thats a fun surprise

[nanaslutt]

i just wanna like… have toji teach me how to give him head 😞

you and me both

contains: fem reader, oral(m!receiving), slightly inexperienced reader, big dick!toji, size kink, manhandling, throat fucking, cum eating, slight asphyxiation, praise, he talks you it, established relationship, dirty talk, sweet!toji :p

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

You’ve been standing behind the couch where toji sat for 5 minutes now.

Youve been wanting to give him head for a while now, but you have no idea where to even start.

For one you’ve never even sucked a dick before, not having a lot of prior experience before you met toji. And second, his dick was intimidatingly big.

He always had to fuck you open on four of his fingers; having had at least 2 orgasms; before he even thought about putting his dick inside you, and still the stretch was barely manageable.

The thought of what he might do to your throat since having the knowledge of how bad he can wreck your pussy, scared you.

He was so patient with you though, always wiping your fat tears off of your cheeks, cooing at your pained expression, while he let you cockwarm him, getting used to his girth before he ultimately fucked your brains out.

“Ur bein’ fucking creepy doll, what is it.” his deep voice sounded through the room. Making you stand on edge as you bit the inside of your cheek, having been found out.

“Sorry..” you bashfully apologized, walking around the side of the couch to see your boyfriend sprawled out in front of the television.

Big thighs manspreading on the cushions, arms laid out on the back of the couch, one large hand was holding a freshly cracked beer can, as he looked up at you with his dark eyes.

The look you had on your face made him curious as to what the hell you were thinking about. A mix of nervousness and contemplation plastered on your pretty face as you started to climb on him.

You slung your arms over his shoulders, straddling his hips, and placed your head in the crook of his neck and sighed deepy.

“Whacha thinkin about pretty girl?” toji asked, hand not holding his drink coming down to rest against you ass.

“I uh.. wanted to ask for your help.” you softly replied. Toji stayed silent, rubbing his hand over your backside encouragingly as he waiting for you to get the courage to speak again. He brought the beer to his mouth in the meantime, taking a couple sips.

“Been thinking about sucking your dick but uh.. I’ve never done it before.” your unexpected bluntness made him choke on his drink, recovering quickly as he looked at you the best he could with your head being in his neck and all.

“Yeah? Been thinkin’ about it?” he teased, you could practically hear his cocky smirk.

You let out a soft “mhmm” in reply.

Toji always ate you out so good, leaving you a shaking and shivering mess on his sheets every time he was finished licking you clean. He never complained when you didn’t return the favor, he knew how big he was and his experiences with women giving him head in the past wasn’t exactly.. enjoyable.

Reminders of the dull teeth that would scrape against his cock, or the lack of technique the women would use on him would flood his mind whenever he thought about receiving head.

He already picked up on how intimidated you were when his length flopped against his stomach when he removed his boxers, which is why he never dared to bring up the idea.

He figured if you wanted to try it, you would ask, then you would try, and it ultimately it wouldn’t work out like always and that would be alright.

Although toji never complained about it, he had constant fantasies of your lips around his cock. Nights when you weren’t at his apartment he spent his time in his bed, hand wrapped around his thick cock as he squeezed his eyes tightly shut. He would apply a generous amount of lube, trying to simulate the feeling of your wet mouth as he fucked his hips into his hand, pretending it was sliding down your warm throat.

His fantasy always shattering when he came, vividly picturing your face covered in his cum right before he came, but snapping out of the pipe dream when he felt the hot ropes of cum shoot on his stomach instead.

But that was satisfactory, you did plenty for him in bed, always taking his cock so fucking well, stroking him off with your small hands, his dick pressing between your thighs, your tits; he was spoiled, so who was he to complain?

Although his reply to your confession was fairly composed, toji was mentally losing his shit. Trying not to get hard at the situation and potentially scare you away when you realized his problem, being reminded of just how big he was and turning you off from the idea.

Little did he know you were well aware of that fact already. You would never be able to forget the way he split you open with the sheer size of his cock, for as long as you lived.

“I can teach you if that really sounds like somethin’ you want” he spoke nonchalantly, trying not to get his hopes up at the thought that you might actually be the one to take his dick down your throat, heart betraying him as is practically beat out of his chest.

“Really?” you perked up, sitting up to face him, loooking like an eager puppy. “Can we try it now?” you asked.

exactly like an eagar puppy.

“You sure your ready for it?” he asked, setting his drink down on the side table before joining his other hand in grabbing your ass.

“Why not? you are.” you giggle, glancing down to his lap, referring to the massive tent he was sporting. Clearly his efforts in trying to keep it down were in vein.

but jesus christ was he in high school? popping a boner at the mention of head? good lord he needed to get a grip.

“Smart ass,” he left a light slap on your backside, making you giggle. He leaned over and grabbed a pillow he used as decoration on the sofa, “Go ahead and get on your knees for me, use this so yer knees don’t hurt.” his gruff voice spoke.

You nodded obediently, placing the pillow on the carpet right between his spread thighs, while you folded your knees on the pillow, playing your hands on his knees as you waited for your next instruction.

“Rumor has it my dick is unsuckable, so,” he paused, “if this doesn’t go how you think it will, it’s not yer fault.” he assured, ruffling your hair.

“I can take it.” is the only thing you said back, the look you had in your eyes was so determined, it made his grin stretch across his face.

You watched intently as toji pulled down the band of his sweats and boxers alike. Massive cock springing up like always. His angry tip was leaking so fucking much, you were truly oblivious to how bad this idea affected the older man.

He wrapped his big hand around his thick cock, using the precum he was leaking to ease the slide against the skin as he looked down at you while you watched him stroke himself.

He noticed you squirming from your place on the floor, not to subtly pressing your thighs together.

“Watchin’ me touch myself make ur little pussy all wet?” Toji spoke, smirk, still prevalent on his face. The way in which he spoke made you think you had no shame at all.

You nodded, mouth watering watching his pre bead up in the slid of his cock before dripping down, getting swiped up by tojis large hand.

“‘s so big toji” you spoke, intimidation obviously laced in your voice, but you were so determined to be the one who took tojis cock.

You wanted to show him exactly how good he made you feel when he used his mouth for you.

“C-can I?” you slid your hands on his big thighs, training twords his cock, watching him strok himself steadily.

“Can you what?” Toji always made you use your words. He never got tired of watching how embarrassed and flustered you got over stuff like this.

His head spinning when a blush covered your face, eyes darting around the room before you spoke again, “”Can I touch it, please,” you asked.

Toji quickend his strokes, “Look at me baby.” Your eyes instantly meeting each other at his demand, his eyebrows were furrowed together. A look was plastered on his face that said you can do better than that.

Keeping your eyes on Toji’s dark and intimidating ones, you elaborated begrudgingly, “Wanna stroke your cock Toji, please”

He let out a short aroused laugh, big hand placing itself on your own, against his thigh, “Course you can baby, jus’ had to ask,”

He curled his fingers under yours, scooting his hips towards you on the couch before he placed your hand on his cock, his hand covering yours.

“You don’t need any help with this part right? Little hands always touch me so fucking good.” he praised, retracting his grip around his cock as he let you take over.

Your other hand came up to join the fun, using both your hands to wrap around his cock. You payed special attention to the tip, just how you knew toji liked, twisting your wrists together, creating delicious friction on his length.

Toji’s abs clenched under his shirt, feeling your hands on him always felt too good, his eyes drooping even more as you stroked him with vigor.

His eyebrows suddenly shot up when your head dropped down to his crotch. Your pink tongue darted out to lick in the slit of his cock, licking at the precum that had beaded up again.

He swear his brain short circuited when he felt your warm tongue touch him. That barely there feeling alone felt a hundred times better than his hand trying to mimic your mouth when he was alone.

“Someone’s eagar.” he laughed, arousal seeping into his voice when he spoke, big hand coming down to rest against your head comfortingly.

“Wanna make you feel good, can you uh.” you paused, “can you teach me now?” he thought it was so fucking cute how you currently had his dick in his hands, stroking it with a technique on par with a porn star, and you were embarrassed asking him to show you how to suck his dick.

“Want me to teach my pretty girlfriend how to suck my dick?” he corrected, making you squeeze your thighs together at his filthy mouth, an action that did not go unnoticed by toji; none of your reactions did.

“Please” you whimpered.

He tucked in his lips for a second, reminding himself not to cum the second his tip was in your mouth. Letting his plush lips pop back out he started his lesson.

“Start by lickin’ on it, just like you did a second ago.” he instructed. Toji watched you nod, looking so focused when you dropped your head back down, flattening out your tongue and rubbing it along his tip.

He relished in the feeling of thr little circles and shapes you drew. Your strokes had died down against his length, putting all of your focus on your mouth that would soon be around him.

“You can suck on the tip if you can get yerself to do it too.” He groaned out.

You wasted no time, taking a deep breath through your nose before sliding your lips down around his tip and suckling.

“Atta fuckin’ girl,” toji bit his lip between his teeth when you followed his instruction so quickly. “Use your tongue when you suck on it too princess, it’ll make me feel so fuckin good” he added, knowing how much you loved getting him off.

So you listened, rolling your tongue around his tip as you bobbed your head a bit, taking his tip and just under that into your mouth. He tasted salty against your tongue as his tip leaked pre steadily into your mouth.

Toji slung a hand up behind him, placing it on the back of the sofa and squeezing the pillow between his fingers harshly, trying to ground himself, his other tangling itself in your hair still.

He had to actively fight his hips to not thrust into your mouth and just bully his cock down your throat, but it was so fucking hard. Every neuron in his brain was telling him to do so at the visual of you eagerly sucking on his cock.

He clenched his jaw hard when you looked up at him, presumably, for another direction.

“Wanna try taking it a little deeper?” he asked, eyes fluttering when you moaned out an “mhmm” around him, abs clenching at the vibration.

“Good girl.” He praised at your need to learn. “Keep your teeth tucked behind your lips and relax your throat so you don’t choke,” he gagged, though the thought of you choking around him didn’t sound half bad, but he was trying to be nice right now.

“Don’t push urself doll, take more whenever your ready.” he said, restraint was coursing through his veins. He didn’t want to get carried away and start thrusting haphazardly. He knew that if he showed restraint and this went well, that maybe in the future you would let him fuck your throat, that thought kept him sane right now, constantly reminding him of that revelation.

Toji tried to let himself relax against the cushions when you took him a little deeper.

Your mouth was being stretched painfully around his length the further you got down, a similar feeling to how your cunt felt when he slid in for the first time.

Eyes starting to water, forcing back a gag when you barely got halfway down his cock, and he was already pressed to the back of your throat.

Toji’s eyes rolled back in his sockets, he ran his fingers through your hair at the feeling of your mouth constricting him. “Doin so fucking good baby girl shiiiit,” he groned. You rubbed your thighs together at the praise.

So far he only felt your teeth graze him once, and that was already doing way better than the people who have attempted this before you.

The moans and whimpers you let out around him were sending delicious vibrations straight to his balls. His cock throbbing and twitching inside your warm mouth, threatening to spill into the cavern already.

He wanted to let you have your fun before he ruined it with his orgasm, and would ultimately have to wait till his cock was ready again before you continued. Although it probably wouldn’t take long with knowing just how hard he got in seconds at only the thought of your mouth around him, now having experienced it a little, he might not even have a refractory period after he came.

but he digressed

Toji jolted when you gagged around his cock, coughing around him and sending sputters of spit around him. “Fuck, c-careful doll, don’t hurt yourself” Toji groaned.

While you let yourself get used to taking in half, your hands came up to stroke what couldn’t fit in your mouth.

“Bob your head a little pretty thing, keep using your tongue too, just like you did for my tip.” his deep voice instructed when he noticed you just kept his length in your mouth, only moving your hands.

You followed his advice, bringing your warm mouth up, and back down on the amount that was comfortable for you right now, hands meeting your lips on the upstroke.

Toji was in heaven, he wanted to pull out his phone and take a video so he never forgot the scene in front of him.

He had never experienced receiving head that felt this fucking good before. His toes were curling in his slippers, balls tightening, and abs clenching rhythmically to match his heart wet as he watched you work.

It was so messy, spit was accumulating on the base of his cock, and his pelvis. Watching string of spit connect from the base to your small hands and lips was making his head feel fuzzy.

Much to his dismay, you popped off his dick, keeping your grip around the bottom of his cock when you spoke, “Toji, I wanna take it deeper” you whined, sounding frustrated. “Cant do it by myself, It won’t go any further.” you poured up at him, begging eyes pleading for some guidance.

oh this was fucking perfect, he thought.

The promise of future throatfucking that was preventing him from destroying your throat right now; opting to let you set the pace; might be seeing the light of day sooner than he though.

“Want me to help you sweet thing?” He asked, holding your cheek in his large palm, rubbing against your spit covered skin.

“P-please toji” you begged.

He felt the coil in his stomach tighten, this would not take long, but that was fine, he didn’t know if you would be able to take it for very long anyways.

Toji stood up in front of you, holding the sides of your head in his hands as he spoke, “Gonna fuck your throat okay?” he said, “If it’s too much jus’ tap my thigh n’ i’ll stop” he said, chest heaving before you took his cock back into your mouth.

You gripped your nails into his thighs, rubbing your legs together as you tried to alleviate some of the neediness you were feeling between your thighs.

You started to bob the first couple inches of him in your mouth, hands free; before he spoke. “Gonna move now ‘kay?” Toji waited till he felt you nod before he thrust his hips into your mouth.

You panicked a bit when you felt his cock slide down your throat, gagging around him when he pressed his balls completely to your chin, short hairs on his pelvis tickling your nose.

“Fucking- sh-ittt,” Toji groaned, holding you against him while you gagged and sputtered, “Relax your throat baby, ‘s okay, not gonna hurt ya” he comforted, “Took me so fucking well,” he continued praising.

Warning you before he started thrusting, you dug your nails into his skin, making him groan as he fucked his cock in and out of your wet cavern.

He cooed at you, watching the cat tears roll down your thighs as he mercilessly fucked your mouth. Years of unsatisfactory blowjobs and pent up need was being unleashed on your throat, and you were taking it like a fucking champ. “God, right fucking t-throat feels so good baby, you okay?” he asked, knowing you were in no place to give a proper respose, but he felt the agreement in vibrations around him when you tried to spoke

Making his smirk stretch across his face once more. Spit strings were connecting from your chin and his balls, as he kept up his bruising pace. “fuckfuckfuck,” toji let out a string of curses, “good-fucking-girl” he repeated in between thrusts.

The eye contact you were keeping with him was making him feel drunk, “Keep lookin at my baby, doin so good, keep those pretty eyes on me,” he instructed, biting his lip down at you.

He pulled your head off of his cock right before he came, letting you swallow down air as you let a small coughing fit wrack your lungs, toji pet your hair until the end of it.

“Doin so good,” he praised “I’m about to cum, Is it alright if I go a little harder? Wont take long sweet thing,” he promised.

Your small hand leaving his thigh to rub at your sore throat, strained voice pushing out your consent before he continued.

You used your hand to guide his cock back in your mouth, before dropping it back onto his thigh for stability. He wiped away your tears before he started up again, “You can take it,” he assured.

He curled his fingers into your head, gripping your hair as he brought your head into him to meet his thrusts, heavy balls slapping your chin with his mean thrusts, gagging and groans of approval being heard throughout the room.

Toji didn’t lie when he said this wouldn’t take long, his thrusts were so much rougher than before, more frequent too, leaving you with a shorter window to get air into your lungs between thrusts.

Vision starting to twinkle with spots when his thrusts started becoming erratic and losing their rhythm, “Take it take it fuck” his deep voice groaned, “So fucking close ohmygod“ he looked down at your fluttering eyes, new tears having been spilled over your cheeks at the harshness.

“Gonna swallow it all for me pretty girl? hmm?” The final straw being when you looked up at him, finally making eye contact with your fucked out eyes, “cumming- shit shit sh-“ he groaned long and deep, hot ropes of cum shooting down your throat as you used all the brainpower you had to swallow around him, trying not to pass out from the lack of air.

Roughly pulling your hair back by one of his big hands, the other coming down to stroke his hand quickly over his cock, the last of his seed being pained all over your pretty face.

The black dots in your vision started fading as you gulped air greedily into your lungs, sticking your tongue out instinctly while his hot cum landed in long streaks all over it.

“fuuuuuuuck” toji almost whined, cock still in hand as he flopped back down into the cushions. “think i almost died,” he said softly, chest heaving up and down like he just ran a marathon.

Sweat was beating off his face, face flushed red and eyes lidded as his soul slowly but surely came back into his body, you rested your head against his thigh as he stroked the side of your face.

Toji leaned down, scooping you up under your arms and placing you in his lap, cradling you against his hard chest as the two of you caught your breath, “think i’m addicted to ur mouth,” his voice resonating through his chest vibrating through your body when he spoke.

“Think my mouth is addicted to your cock,” your horse voice retaliated, making him wince in remorse, “fuck” he laughed, “you sound awful, promise i’ll make you some tea for your throat later” he promised, caressing the back of your head.

“later?” you asked, curious as to why he doesn’t go make a cup now as it only take a couple minutes, “gotta eat ur pussy out to show u how much I loved what ya’ did for me first.” he said, like it was obvious. “But i guess if ya’ want I can make you tea first.” he half joked.

You pulled back from his chest, grabbing his shirt and pulling him back onto the couch cushions with you, his huge frame swallowing yours, “tea can wait.” you smiled.



[ruewrote]

𝑑𝑟𝑢𝑛𝑘 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑏𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑠.

PAIRING: josh washington x fem!reader WARNINGS: intoxication, no use of y/n GENRE: fluff SONG INSPIRATION: les by childish gambino WORD COUNT: 1.3k REQUESTED: yes NOTE: lowkey hate this :(

navigation | ask | josh washington masterlist

empty cups scattered across the wooden tables, and a slow, mellow song played from the stereo in the corner. most of the others had already gone to bed, leaving just you and josh sitting together on the couch.

josh was leaning back against the cushions, his usually sharp eyes a little hazy, thanks to the whiskey he’d been steadily working his way through all night. his laughter had become looser, more frequent, but now, he’d grown quiet, his fingers lazily tracing the rim of his glass.

you hadn’t drunk nearly as much. you’d been pacing yourself, watching as josh let loose. he always seemed so put together, in control. until he wasn’t. tonight, you could tell he was just on the edge of losing that control.

“you good?” you asked, your voice gentle as you leaned a little closer to him. the lodge had that peaceful, late night silence that made everything feel softer, more intimate.

his gaze slid to you, and for a moment, you could have sworn there was something different in his eyes. something warmer. “me? yeah,” he slurred slightly, then chuckled. “totally fine. just… thinkin’.”

you smiled, shaking your head. “you know that’s dangerous for you.”

he smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes this time. instead, he downed the last of his drink in one swift motion before setting the glass down a little too forcefully. “you ever wonder why we do this?” he asked, his voice dropping into something softer. "why we all come here, year after year? to this… place?”

you frowned, the sudden shift in his tone catching you off guard. “well, we’re all friends, right? it’s tradition.” 

“yeah,” he muttered, his voice almost bitter. “tradition.”

you weren’t sure where this was coming from, but there was a heaviness in the air now that hadn’t been there a moment ago. josh was staring into the fire, his jaw clenched, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the arm of the couch. he was drunk, that much was clear, but there was obviously something he was holding back.

“josh…” you started gently, “what’s going on? you’re acting weird.”

he didn’t answer right away. instead, he ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more, before finally turning to fully face you . his gaze lingered on you longer than usual, his eyes flicking from your eyes to your lips and back again. 

the small gesture lit a small fire in your chest. you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol, the firelight, or just the intimacy of being the last two awake, but the air between you felt suddenly thick.

“can i tell you something?” he asked, his voice low, almost hesitant. 

you gave a small nod. “of course.”

josh lets out a shaky breath, leaning closer, closer than he ever had before. you could smell the whiskey on his breath, the warmth of his skin so close it made your own skin tingle. his eyes, half lidded from the alcohol, were focused entirely on you.

“i’m probably gonna regret this tomorrow,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. his hand lifted, gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear. the touch was soft, but sent a shiver down your spine.

before you could ask what he meant, josh let out a short, nervous laugh. “god, you have no idea, do you?”

you blinked, your heart pounding harder now. “no idea about what?”

“that i’m–” he stopped, swallowing hard. “that i’ve been in love with you for… i don’t even know how long.”

the confession leaves you stunned, speechless. you opened your mouth, but no words came out.

josh, however, wasn’t done. he shifted, his knee brushing against yours as he leaned forward, his hands now gripping the edge of the couch cushion. “i’ve tried to ignore it, you know? tried to push it down. pretend it’s not there. but it is.” 

his voice was a little unsteady, the weight of his feelings spilling out faster now that the dam had broken. “and every time you’re near, i feel like i’m losing my mind, because i can’t say anything. because what if you don’t feel the same?”

your mind raced, trying to keep up with everything he was saying. you’d always felt something between you and josh, a certain tension, a closeness that sometimes felt like more than friendship. but you’d never let yourself go there. not with him. not with your best friend.

but here he was, drunk and vulnerable, laying it all out in front of you.

“josh…” you whispered, your heart aching at the rawness in his voice.

he lets out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “god , i’m such an idiot. i shouldn’t have said anything.” he leaned back suddenly, running both hands over his face. “forget i said that, okay? just– just forget it. i’m drunk. i didn’t mean–”

“no,” you cut in, reaching out to grab his wrist before he could pull away completely. “don’t do that. don’t take it back.”

he froze, his eyes wide, staring at where your hand wrapped around his arm. his pulse thudded beneath your fingers, you could feel the tension radiating off him.

“you’re not an idiot,” you said softly, your voice shaking slightly. “and you’re not just drunk. you’re telling the truth, aren’t you?”

josh swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing as he struggled to find his voice. “yeah…i am.”

the two of you sat in that somehow loud silence for what felt like forever, his confession hung between you, you felt the weight of all the missed opportunities, all the almost moments you’d shared with him over the years. 

“i don’t know what to say,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. 

josh looked at you, his expression softening. “you don’t have to say anything, okay? just. just don’t hate me for this. that’s all i’m asking.”

“hate you?” you shook your head, your fingers tightening around his wrist. “josh, i could never hate you.”

his eyes searched yours, you took a deep breath. you hadn’t expected this of all things to happen tonight. you hadn’t expected him to say those words. but now that he had, you couldn’t deny that part of you, the part you’d tried to bury, the one that feels the same.

“i don’t know where to go from here,” you admitted, your voice trembling.

his eyes flickering back down to your lips. “maybe we just start here.” his voice low, before you knew it his lips brushed against yours.

the kiss started slow, painfully slow, like he was testing the waters. his lips barely brushed yours at first, hesitant, almost like he was giving you a chance to pull away. but you didn’t. you only leaned in, closing the agonizing distance.

the second you did, his restraint snapped. the air between you crackled as his arms tightened around you, pulling you closer, like he couldn't bear the thought of you slipping away from him now. you could feel the years of longing, the tension that had simmered between you for so long, finally spilling over. the kiss deepened, no longer gentle but desperate, hungry. 

his hand slid up to your face, fingers trembling slightly as they cupped your cheek, there was need in his touch, in the way his thumb brushed your skin. raw, urgent, like he was asking for permission to let go, to take everything he’d ever wanted. and you gave it to him.

you kissed him back with everything you had, pouring years of unspoken desire, of waiting, into the moment. the heat between you was unbearable, the pent up longing finally crashing over you both.

when you finally pull back, the air more relaxed now as you catch your breath.

“we can figure it out,” you whispered.

josh let out a shaky breath, his lips curving into a small, relieved smile. “yeah. yeah, we can.”

comments and reblogs are appreciated ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

© ruewrote 2024.

[hotpinkstars]

BORDER COLLIE - boothill x reader

- you, boothill, and your daughter spend a nice morning together, allthewhile you and your husband converse about a dog.

- i don't know why i made this i just thought it would be a fun little thing idk lol. i just had to add that little bit of jazz to the end bc like yk... idk anyways i'm trynna set myself on a better posting schedule and i think im starting off strong mmm enjoy

- all fluff, tiny mention of pregnancy at the very end, pre-cyborg boothill, his daughter is still alive here and everything is normal, wc 714

You were looking out the window, out at the vast amount of farmland you and your husband, Boothill, had decided to buy when he brought home the little girl you’re now able to call your daughter.

It was a nice, big place, suitable for animals of all kinds, and very family-friendly. You were currently watching your daughter play around with a baby goat that her father decided to bring out, a smile on all three of your faces. 

She seemed so happy, waddling around the goat, clapping her chubby little hands when the goat gave a soft little lick to her cheek. She had just learned how to walk, and had been able to say a few words for the past few months now. 

You walked out the back door, waving at Boothill before he waved his hand as a gesture to have you over by them. While you were walking over, you could hear your daughter shout “Goat! Goat! Cute goat!” While bobbing up and down with her legs and clapping her hands. It made you laugh a little bit before leaning into your husband's side. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, rubbing your arm up and down while supervising your daughter. 

“Dada!” She squealed, giggling. Boothill ruffled her hair before leaning down to give her a kiss on her forehead, making her giggle even more. “Dada and mama!”

You smiled wider than you thought you ever could have. You were so blessed to have Boothill as a husband, and such a special, precious girl as a daughter. 

“Well, we can’t really bring a goat in th’ house, n’ she seems to enjoy playin’ around with it a bunch…” Boothill said, standing next to you with his arms crossed. “What if we got a dog?”

“Really? A dog?” You looked up at him, and he nodded. “We have horses, goats, sheep, cows, and probably some reptiles living in the bushes. Do we really need more?”

He hummed. “The thing is, dogs can be domestic, hun. I got lucky this lil’ goat is so docile, good enough for her to be able to hang ‘round it without me having to worry ‘bout it taking her face off.”

“True. But we’d need a dog that can handle farmlife, not just any old dog. A boujee dog would not do very well in this type of setting. Keep that in mind.” 

He laughed before shaking his head. “Nah. I was thinkin’ more like a Border Collie or somethin’. I’d rather have one that's gonna make use of all this land.”

Your daughter came up to the both of you, lightly slapping at your legs to get your attention. You picked her up, giving Boothill a signal to go put the goat back in its respective area before meeting the two of you back inside.

A few moments later, when Boothill arrived back inside, you had lunch started, greeting him before he washed his hands and helping your daughter wash hers, too. He explained to her that she’s always to wash her hands before and after touching an ‘outside animal’ (as he calls it, so her itty bitty brain can comprehend it) otherwise she could get sick. He does the same, too. 

You set the table for lunch, putting some leftover salad and chicken on you and Boothills plates from last night. You gave your daughter some chicken too, but cut into very small squares, and strawberries instead of salad. 

The three of you sat down to eat, occasionally conversing about random things. She was too busy picking at her strawberries to notice your conversation, but you both still kept a close eye on her. 

“About the dog idea, are you sure?” You asked, your voice laced with some uncertainty. ‘I feel like we already have so much on our plate. Are you really willing to walk it every morning?”

“Well, o’course I am. I know what havin’ a dog is like, my dads always had one. I grew up around ‘em.” He takes another forkful of salad before going on. “But why’re ya so concerned? What else is stoppin’ ya from sayin’ yes?”

You smiled before laughing to yourself, leaving him temporarily confused. 

“Well, I want to hold off on the dog, because…

…I’m pregnant.”

[josephquinnswhore]

Her Sanctuary

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader.

Summary: you start pulling away from Joel, he’s scared he’s going to lose you.

Word Count: 1.7k

Content Warning: mentions of anxiety, bad mental health. Joel talking about Sarah!!! 😭 soft Joel!!!!! Hurt/comfort.

Note: kinda just wrote this on a whim after rewatching the last of us. I miss joel. @cool-iguana ily.

You were an outspoken person. About everything. There wasn’t a single topic you didn’t have an opinion on. Always a snarky reply, a joke, or following pun. That’s just who you were.

Joel spent months wishing you weren’t like that. That you’d just shut up so he could have a few moments of silence between you. His limited replies included a scowl, raised eyebrow or an annoyed grunt. He spent months travelling across the country with you, refusing to open up and reluctantly teaching you how to shoot his rifle.

He didn’t like how you made him feel. How he had started looking at you romantically. The sound of your laugh stirred something in him. Your bright eyes lightened the darkness in his own.

He never allowed himself to let you in; as much as a fight he put up. You wormed yourself into the cracks in the walls around his heart and started to mend him. He doesn’t know when it happened exactly, all he can remember is wanting to hear more of her laugh, he even found her a joke book in an old RV he scouted one evening at the trailer park they posted in overnight.

He had learned how to accept your brightness, for all its worth. Your dorky comments, crooked grin and boisterous laugh. Even those small touches to his back and arm when you would pass by, excusing yourself. Always followed by a mumbled, “sorry.”

But this.. this he didn’t know what to do. He was tearing himself up inside for not knowing what to do. You were quiet today, something bubbling inside of you that radiated off and in between them in a depressing aura that had Joel feeling breathless.

He even found himself staring at you, from the corner of his eyes, turning his head to watch you, making sure you kept up as you lingered a few steps behind him, completely silent. Not laughing, not crying. Silent.

It was heart wrenching and he couldn’t figure out how to put the pieces together to finish the puzzle. Nothing extreme had happened that they hadn’t faced before. They’d fought off some infected yesterday but—it couldn’t have possibly been that. They were fine. They survived.

Maybe you just wasn’t coping as well as he thought you were.

He tried to think of things to cheer you up, and the guilt consumed him when he realised he didn’t really know much about you. He had never asked. It was always you asking about him, pestering to know more about him. He cursed himself for being so selfish.

The harsh reality of their one sided dynamic hit Joel hard, he had always protected her, with his physical strength and ability to kill. That primal instinct that kept them both alive and for what? He couldn’t help her when she actually needed.

He felt utterly useless.

Until. He had an idea. That stupid fucking joke book that she treasured, had to cheer her up right? It had to draw out one of those loud laughs that made his insides flip, the smile that made your eyes squint that his heart craved to see.

He reached into his pack, pulling it out. She’d stashed it in there, insisting that her pack had no more room. He didn’t argue, he knew she struggled carrying the weight. He decided that day that he could carry the extra burden for things that she decided she couldn’t bare.

This baggage however, was tricker. He would take it if he could. He hoped this would work.

He turns around to look at you and what he saw made him feel like there was a metal vice around his heart, your slumped shoulders and black eye bags complimented a vacant look in your eyes, you were unrecognisable in comparison to your default sunshine personality.

“Hey, I was thinkin’ about that algae-bra joke you told me the other day.” He tried to make his voice as soft as he could when he spoke to you, trying to nudge a reaction.

Nothing, she barely looks at him. “Hm?”

“Anyways, I was thinkin’ we could pass the time with this.” He held the joke book in his hand, swinging his pack back over his shoulder, adjusting his rifle strap as he shuffles on his feet.

You felt a spark of something, something that was quickly put out by the fear and darkness that felt so consuming.

“Maybe later?” You offer quietly, walking past him. “It’ll be dark soon.”

Joel felt defeated. How had he failed so badly. How did he let this fester inside of her like a fucking disease that he didn’t know how to get rid of.

This was an infection in your mind; that he figured on his own. This kind of infection he didn’t know how to cure. He had always pushed his own anxiety and panic attacks down burying them, until he learnt to live with it.

But you; the one fucking good thing in his life that brought him life, hope. He wouldn’t allow you to ignore it, to let it consume you.

He wasn’t going to let you fall victim. He would do whatever it took.

He set up camp in silence, stuck in his head about how the fuck he was going to help you, a feeling of shame overwhelmed him as he sits by the fire, rubbing his hands together as you sit in your sleeping bag, across from him.

Arms wrapped tightly around yourself, legs pulled to your chest. It made you look smaller, the way you held yourself protectively. A reflection of the flames flicking in her eyes only made the mood more somber.

He can’t say something came over him, possessed him to say what he felt bubbling up inside of him. He didn’t want to lose her. To him, you were too important, you disarmed him and weaselled your way into his heart. He wasn’t going to let you leave, not ever.

“When my little girl used to get upset, she always shut me out like this, like what you’re doin’, I always told myself she’ll come around.” He nods to himself, as if reminiscing the memory.

You stay silent, watching him. Watching his expression soften.

“An’ now she’s gone it’s all I regret. Not doin’ more. Not making more of an effort with shit like that. Fuckin’ haunts me.”

Not once in the months they’ve travelled he had mentioned having children, a daughter, let alone a decreased one. He had mumbled a few times in his sleep, incoherently a name. Serine, Sari, Sarah? You could never figure it out, and never pried.

But here he was, sitting across from her looking on with longing eyes and his features the most relaxed she’d ever seen.

“I ain’t makin’ that same mistake again, seein’ you like this, pullin’ away. Feels like I’m failin’ all over again.” His admission shocks you, enough to stun a quiet confession from your own lips before you could think.

“I thought you were going to die.” He seems surprised to hear you talking, but stays silent, wanting you to talk more, wanting to hear more.

“I know we’ve dealt with plenty of infected.. we’ve had some close calls even, sure.” Your heart clenched as you recall.

Joel lying on the ground with that infected on top of him, Joel’s gun inches away as he fumbles, fingertips desperately grasping the hairs of grass as he searched for his weapon.

Holding the infected away with one arm, grunting in a struggle that he was bound to lose. It’s rotten teeth and fleshy stench was so close to grazing Joel’s neck. Inches away from sealing his fate.

You had somehow mustered some courage inside of you to tackle the infected, throwing it off Joel and giving him a split second to reach for his gun and put a bullet in the back of the infected’s head.

Your jeans still stunk, of gunpowder and blood. A stench so vile you couldn’t help but relive the moment, it was on your mind every second, unable to process it all.

You almost lost Joel. Joel almost fucking died. It was a breath away.

“I thought if I just—shut down maybe you’d get tired and ditch me.. worse yet I’d stop caring about you so damn much.” Joel’s ears perked at her soft admission.

“And I know you think I’m just—some annoying fucking girl that you have to protect and feed and I’m sorry..“ Joel wouldn’t allow another word.

“Hey. Look at me, now.” His tone was soft, but held a firmness, there was no doubt he wasn’t asking you. He needed you to look at him.

His face looked so soft beyond the flames of the fire, his expression was tender and kind; as no one had ever seen before. He looked beautiful, fuck, he was handsome. You’d always thought so.

“I know it was a close call, we’ve learnt from it, yeah? We won’t make the same mistake.” You nod, Joel continues.

“Don’t pull away from me sweetheart. Please.”

You open your mouth to say something, but Joel interrupts by patting the space beside him.

“C’mere sweetheart. C’mon.” You don’t waste a moment to plop beside him. He wraps his sleeping bag around you and his big hands grip around your torso to pull you into his.

“Tell me you ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

For the first time since you’ve known Joel. He was the one asking for comfort, reassurance.

“Promise I’m not going anywhere Joel.” You nuzzle into him, his natural musk strung a desire out of her that all she could do was lean into him.

“You get some rest now. I’ll keep ya safe.” He murmurs into her ear, a promise.

All you could do was obey him. Closing your eyes as your body and mind revelled in the intimacy and vulnerability of this moment.

His head rested on top of yours, your hair gets stuck in the rugged coarse hairs of his beard. He finds himself nuzzling into you, allowing himself to get lost in you. After months of fighting you; he lets go. He lets you in.

You were his. And he wasn’t going to let anything fucking hurt you. Not even yourself. He would be your sanctuary. No matter what it took.

[dragonakito360]

Boothill x Mechanic!Reader

I was inspired by a post from @buggytales so please show them some love for this amazing idea!

CW: I feel like Boothill is OOC and has my own hcs mixed in since it's written before his release, but that's about it.

Names Used: Darlin', Sweetheart

For as long as Boothill can remember, he's been the rootin' tootin' cyborg cowboy of the galaxy. The gunslinging galaxy ranger, fighting evil and bringing justice. His mechanical augmentations were a byproduct of his lifestyle, starting off with just an arm, then a leg, or perhaps a part of his chest? It was a blur now, because before he knew it, he was less human than machine. But that never really bothered him, not when he's got the best mechanic this side of the galaxy; you.

You weren't his first mechanic by any means, but you certainly were the first he trusted with all his being. Your shop was small, hidden away in a busy market district of your home planet. It wasn't famous, nor was it busy at any given day, so it always made you wonder what got Boothill to visit your shop. Some would call it fate, or maybe it was mere chance that he stumbled into the store needing urgent repairs. Nevertheless, since that faithful day, he's been your loyal customer ever since. Whether it be a phone call from you asking how he's been, a routine maintenance to make sure his systems are in working order, or repairs from a battle, he was happy hearing you, seeing you, he loved everything about you.

His heart may now be a machine, having a steady, rhythmic beat. But he swears it beats faster when he's close to you.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

"Welcome!" You greet, looking up from your desk behind the counter. A smile forms on your lips once you see it's Boothill. He returns your bright smile with his own as he leans on the countertop. "It's not your maintenance day, so do you need anything repaired?" You ask as you eye him up and down for any visible damages, to which there were none.

"My handgun ain't workin', was hopin' you'd take a look at it."

"You can place it on my table-Oh!" You couldn't help but giggle when Boothill placed his left arm on your desk, his body halfway over the counter.

"What? Ya said to place it on your desk!" He laughed along with you, his heart skipping a beat when he heard your laugh. He's heard it countless times, but it always made his day to hear it.

"Come around here and let me take a look." Boothill nodded and circled around the counter, sitting next to you on the spare stool. You gently took his left arm, using a tool to inspect it further. "It seems the cylinder isn't revolving like it's supposed too... Don't worry, it's an easy fix!" You smiled reassuringly, carefully dismantling the arm and repairing it. "This has been broken for a while now, weren't their any repair shops on the planet you were on?"

"There's plenty, but none of 'em were as good as you."

"If you say so." You playfully rolled your eyes as you continued the repair. That is until a question caught you off guard.

"Why you always so gentle, darlin'?" The cyborg couldn't help but ask as you work. "Am I more fragile than I'm thinkin'?"

"No, no, I'm just... worried I might hurt you, that's all." At this, Boothill laughed heartily, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye out of habit.

"You ain't gonna hurt me darlin'! I trust you, more than any mechanic in the galaxy." Your cheeks flushed red and you avert your gaze, opting to stare at the floor. "Aww what's that look for? It's only the truth."

Taking a deep breath, you look up at him. "T-That's really sweet of you, but why me? I don't think I'm the best, you know." Boothill gave a dismissive wave and took your hand in his.

"You don't gotta be the best, you've taken care of me plenty! I'm trustin' you with all of me, sweetheart, don't ya forget it." He winked and you felt your heart pounding in your chest as your face reddens.

"Thank you..." You take deep breaths and calm your emotions.

"I should be thankin' you." He let go of your hands, allowing you to finish your repair work. A soft smile on your face as you work, he was mesmerized watching you. He couldn't take his eyes off of you for even a moment. Before he knew it, you were already done. Which sadly meant it was time for him to go again.

Aeons did he hate leaving your side, even if he came back in a few months for a check-up or a repair within weeks.

But that's why he cherishes every moment he's got with you working on him. Perhaps one day, when he's not so busy, he'll take you out for a date or two.

"Before you go, I have an idea I have for a new augmentation!" You pulled out a few blueprints from under your desk and showed it to the cowboy. Boothill snorted and tried to contain his laughter.

"Butt lasers? Darlin' I don't think I'm gonna have use for that."

"What? But think about it, what if your arms and legs malfunction and you can't move?"

"What makes ya think anyone's gonna defeat me and I ain't able to kick and shoot 'em?"

"Well, um... It's just a precaution, that's all." Boothill stood up and took your hand, placing a kiss on your knuckles.

"Don't worry too much darlin'. I ain't gettin' roughed up all that much, wouldn't want ya to worry." He thought for a moment. "But if it makes ya happy, feel free to add it next time I visit. Some extra firepower will do me good, even when I got three guns." He slapped the gun on his waist and flexed his metal arms, causing you to giggle.

"Okay then. I'll see you around, space cowboy." With a tip of his hat, Boothill headed out of your store.

"See ya, darlin'."

[doitforbangchan]

hi hi!❤️ could u do a drabble (whenever u have time dw) for abanb when baby and Chan are just having a chill day or just spending time together and sharing cute (or spicy👀) moments and maybe them thinking about their future with having pups soon🥹 I just want them to have pups already like it will be too cute😭.

Hi hi hi! I know this has been sitting in my inbox for forever but i thought that now since it's channies bday it would be the perfect time to write this! it was just too cute an idea and i knew it needed to be for my mans birthday 💖 I went the cute route for this i hope you dont mind

plz enjoy

ABANB drabble 04

"Do you ever think about it?"

"Hmm?"

The night had finally wound down, the pack had just finished celebrating Chan's 27th birthday and the party went late into the night -now morning. Chan always worked so hard for this pack, putting you all first and working himself half to death, so you had wanted to do something special for him and had thrown him a birthday party. Not only had all of us pack members been there but you had done a little digging (as in you asked Felix) and invited his family to attend. 

He was beyond shocked when he opened the front door for whoever was pounding at it to reveal his parents and both of his siblings. Chan mentioned to you a few weeks ago how it’s been almost a year since he had seen them and you knew he had missed them dearly. Plus you had wanted to meet your in-laws and thought it was the perfect time. 

The night was filled with suffocating hugs and laughter as the family caught up with each other and the pack. They were so happy to meet you, especially Chan's mom and sister, both omega women were over the moon to have another omega in the family. It was during dinner while everyone was sitting together and sharing a wonderful meal that Chan's sister Hannah had made a teasing comment about your future kids needing eight different ways to say dad, that had really got your mind going. Everyone had laughed and agreed, with a few of the boys calling dibs on the easy choices. 

Since that moment you could not get the thought of starting a family out of your head. You knew you were ready, you had been ever since you got with Chan in the first place, but you didn’t know if he was. You were still on birth control at his request after all. 

Now everyone else had gone to sleep, and it was just you and Chan laying down on his bed together with the soft glow strip lights illuminating you both. 

“Starting a family.. Having babies.” You whispered, curling up closer to him. “Do you ever think about it?” 

Chan paused for a second then answered you just as softly, “All of the time.” 

“Really?” You rested your chin on his chest and peered up at him, practically purring when you felt his thumb rub your bare hips. He thought you looked so beautiful with your eyes sparking in excitement. 

The alpha chuckled, “Yeah of course. V’ always wanted to be a dad. Now more than ever now that I have the most perfect omega to be their mother.” He nuzzled his nose into the side of your mating gland, taking a big whiff of your pleased scent. “What’s got you all mushy about babies, baby?” 

You shrugged, “Just something Hannah said at dinner. It got me thinkin.” 

“You mean when she said we’d need eight ways to say dad?” 

You nodded, “Yeah it’s been stuck in my brain. Having kids, I mean. Actually it has been a lot lately.” 

“Mm, I see.” He squeezed your hip tenderly, pulling you even closer if it was possible. “You know without a doubt that I want kids with you, and it’s not just me. Changbin actually had a conversation with me the other day about it. About how he wants to be a dad with you as the mother.” 

Your eyes widened and your heart swelled at the thought of Binnie bearing his soul out to Chan about being a father. “W-what did you say?” 

“I will give you the same answer I gave him.” He started, keeping his thumb still rubbing those comforting circles. “There is no definite timeline. We have our whole lives together and it has only just begun. I think we can wait and enjoy each other a little bit more, while we’re still young.” 

“Young? Old man, I think you're past the point of being young.” You teased him lightly, using humor to hide how your delicate feelings were hurt. 

As much as you tried to hide it Chan could smell your change in mood. He left small fleeting kisses on your cheeks, “don’t deflect with a rude joke, baby. It’s ok to be upset, I know how badly you crave being a mom. But just not right now. Soon.” 

You sighed and found yourself nodding along with him, “Ok. I can live with that. Soon.” 

“Soon” He agreed, giving you another kiss. 

“I love you, channie. Happy birthday.” 

“Thank you baby, you’ve made it an amazing one. I love you so much, and am so lucky to have such a thoughtful omega.” You purred at his sentiment. “But just so we’re clear I am so gonna  be daddy.” He gave you a cheesy wink. 

You shoved him lightly, “Yeah yeah old man, keep it pg for the kids.” 

“I am not old!” 

©doitforbangchan

the absolute happiest of birthdays to the literal loml, Chris 💖

[steddieas-shegoes]

if i could turn back time

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'time travel' rated t wc: 997 cw: mention of canonical character death tags: fix-it, light angst, happy ending, first kiss

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

"I'm telling you Robin, this is probably when things went wrong!"

"And I'm telling you, things probably went wrong in the 60s! This isn't gonna change anything!"

Eddie shouldn't have been listening by the door of the RV, especially not when they thought he was hiding in the back, but he couldn't help his curious nature.

Curiosity killed the cat, but it entertained the banished.

"What are you gonna do, huh? Stay with him and Dustin? Sacrifice yourself? I'm not letting you do that!"

Eddie's brows raised.

"No, but with the three of us, we can remember to close everything off this time so none of us have to sacrifice ourselves. It keeps us all safe."

The voice suddenly stopped and Eddie barely managed to get away from the door before it was flying open and Steve was storming inside.

Alone.

Robin must have gone to help the kids and Nancy with their weapons.

Steve sat down on the couch, put his head in his hands, and groaned.

"Alright there, big boy?"

Steve jumped, his face turning to see Eddie awkwardly standing in the doorway to the back.

"Fine, yeah. Just stressed," Steve relaxed a bit, though Eddie could still see his white knuckles against his knees and his jaw clenching.

"You and Robin having a lover's quarrel out there?" Eddie asked, knowing damn well they weren't together.

He didn't have to know to know that Robin wasn't interested in Steve for the same reason Eddie wasn't interested in Robin.

"We just don't see eye to nose on some things," Steve shrugged. "She knows I'm right, she's just stubborn."

Ignoring the eye to nose comment would go down as one of the most impressive feats of Eddie's life, but he decided to focus on finding out what they were actually arguing about.

"She thinks you're gonna get hurt?" Eddie asked, moving over to the couch.

"More like killed."

Eddie couldn't hide the flinch at his harsh words.

"None of us are gonna die, man. We've got a plan."

"Yeah," Steve sighed. "I'd feel better if I was with you and Dustin though."

"I won't let anything happen to him," Eddie said softly.

He knew how much Steve cared for Dustin, felt that same protectiveness for the kid.

"It's not him I'm worried about."

"I'll be fine. I mean, even if not, it's not like we're friends. You'll all be fine," Eddie shrugged.

Maybe a part of him actually believed that, believed that everyone would go about their days if something happened to him. He didn't think anyone but Wayne would actually miss him, and he'd be fine eventually.

Steve was blinking at him.

"No, we won't." Steve's hand grabbed his knee, squeezing. "You think you don't matter to us, but you do. You have no idea how much you mean to everyone. When something happens to you, none of us will ever be the same."

Eddie's mouth felt dry, and then it hit him what Steve said.

"When?"

Steve's eyes widened.

"I meant if!"

"Steve. Does this magic girl you keep talking about know something? Did someone talk to her?" Eddie stood up and started pacing. "I know I said it'd be fine if something happened to me, but I'd rather not know. And now I'm thinkin' you might know something I don't and maybe Robin does too and-"

Steve grabbed his face between his hands, his grip almost hard enough to leave a bruise.

"Eds, I promise you, I am not letting anything happen to you. Not this time."

Eddie had a million questions, but as he looked into Steve's haunted eyes, he decided to wait.

He decided to trust Steve Harrington.

"Okay. Nothing's gonna happen to me."

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

When Eddie made it back through the gate in the trailer, a few bruises on his shoulders and arms, but alive, Steve was there.

Looking at him in a way Eddie couldn't quite recognize.

And then touching him in a way Eddie wouldn't have expected.

His hands were everywhere, feeling along his arms and neck and shoulders, taking inventory of his bruises and cuts, the one bite mark he had on his side.

"You're okay?" He asked breathlessly.

"I'm okay." Eddie responded, just as breathless. "Steve. I'm okay."

His tone made Steve stop what he was doing and look in his eyes.

"Fuck, Eddie," Steve fell into him, pushing his face into his neck, breathing Eddie in as Eddie wrapped his arms around him.

"You gonna tell him or should I?" Robin asked from behind them.

Steve just whimpered in response and Eddie felt a wetness against his skin.

"Are you crying?" he asked, trying to push him away to see if he was okay, but Steve just held him harder.

"He's just happy you didn't die this time," Robin said.

"This time?"

"Yeah. You died the first time and it destroyed him. When we woke up back here, he spent so long trying to focus on you living, he forgot we had a real job to do. No offense."

"None taken," Eddie said. "Stevie, you gotta breathe."

Steve had started gasping for air against him, his whole body shaking as he came down from the adrenaline.

It took ten minutes, a cleared out room, and gentle hands massaging his back for Steve to calm down.

But Eddie sat with him and held him, talked him through whatever he was feeling and assuring him that he was okay.

"We all made it, sweetheart," Eddie whispered against the top of his head.

Steve stiffened in his arms, then instantly relaxed.

"Was it..." Eddie let out a long breath. "Before. When I died. Were we something?"

Steve shook his head and Eddie tried not let the disappointment be visible.

"We weren't yet. But I think we would have been. I wanted to be. Didn't get the chance."

"But this time you do."

Steve's lips pressed against his collar, lingering for a minute before he pulled back.

"This time we do."

[thoughtsforsoob]

txt - s/o who struggles with food

a/n: this going to be a very angsty work so please bear with me...i'm feeling very angsty these days. anyways, this hits a little close to home so I understand if you're not able to read this. please be kind to yourself. i'm always here to chat if you ever need anything. please enjoy.

warnings! I will be discussing ed's and food and everything within that realm so please read this at your own digression! (you're not alone. if you're going through something right now, please seek help. it can be hard but you've got this! I believe in you!)

Yeonjun

Yeonjun for sure takes a while to notice anything is ever happening. He just gets so busy with work that he forgets. Sometimes, he struggles to take care of himself for this reason so he can definitely understand the struggle of taking care of yourself enough. When he does find out, he does all he can to help you. He's really caring towards his partner. 

By this point, Yeonjun hadn't seen in person for about 2 months. He was off on tour with the group. Of course, you two had facetime sessions when you two had a moment to spare but it still couldn't have prepared him for what he would face when he got home. The moment he arrived at the airport back home, he immediately asked to go back to your shared apartment. When he arrived, you met him at the door but the way you looked was very different. You appear thinner and it was quite obvious. Yeonjun tried not to make his reaction obvious but he couldn't help the way his eyes went wide when he laid eyes on you. You frown at him and after some talking, you spill about how you were so angry at yourself for the way you looked that you just kinda stopped eating right. Yeonjun makes it his mission to help you feel better and he helps you get back on track to eating enough like you did before. 

Soobin

This section does mention making yourself vomit so please read with caution!

Soobin is also so good when it comes to comforting others. He gives the best hugs and always knows just what to say to help you feel better. when he finds out you're having trouble with your relationship with food, he is absolutely heartbroken. He hates the idea of you struggling with something that he feels should make you happy. He is always going to do whatever you need him to do so you can recover. 

You and Soobin had been together for a few months now and everything was going really well. You both were very happy with one another and were getting along great. The only problem was that Soobin had no idea about your relationship with you. You would do your best to hide the fact that you were never able to get yourself to keep your food down. It made you feel so disgusted but Soobin had no idea. On this particular night, Soobin had come over to your apartment to eat dinner. You were usually able to run off after dinner under the guise that you needed to use the bathroom. Tonight, however, Soobin had become suspicious when you took longer than usual. He goes over to knock on the door but before he can even do that, he panics when he hears you crying and throwing up. He opens the door immediately and lets himself in. He looks really sad and even helps you clean up when you finally stop. You can;t help but open up to him when you see the pain in his face after watching you do this to yourself. He does his best to understand and help you get better, suggesting you talk to someone about this. He is really supporting you on your recovery journey. 

Beomgyu

This one hits a little close to home 😕

he isn’t super observant about your eating habits but he definitely notices when the snacks start to kind of disappear from the pantry. And it wasn’t just them going like normal, they were going a lot faster than normal. You usually only go out shopping for snacks once a week but have been going every three days lately. It was worrying him. Not so much because he was worried you’d gain weight, not in the slightest. He was worried because he was thinking you were going through something and weren’t wanting to tell him.

When you get home from work one afternoon, you see him in the kitchen at the dinner table. You were so excited to see him since he was usually still at work during this time. He looked worried and he asked you to sit down, so you did. He didn’t beat around the bush and straight up told you about his observations. It made you feel angry at first. Why was he bringing this up? Did you gain weight? Was he calling you fat? But then he explained why he even brought it up and that he just wanted to help. You broke out into tears and told him all about what was going on in your life at the moment and how eating made you feel comfortable. He totally understood and offered to help you work through it in different ways since snacking wasn’t the best idea. You accept his help and it starts to feel better

Taehyun

How dare his pretty girl think she’s ugly? He just can’t fathom why you would starve yourself or even think that you’re not good enough for some reason. He always does his best to combat this by complimenting you as often as he can and making sure he keeps track of whether you’ve eaten or not. He knows it’s a little frustrating for you when he’s constantly asking you if you’ve eaten but it’s just before he cares and he doesn’t want you to get sick. 

in this scenario…it was a few days until your wedding. you had been trying to hide it but you haven’t eaten much over the last week, causing you to feel weak. When the day finally came, you fainted as you were getting your hair done. Everyone in the room with you was panicking and they called taehyun to come help you wake up. He made sure to pick up some snacks from his dressing room and some water for you to drink. He had an itching feeling that you were starving yourself but didn’t want to accuse you of anything. When you wake up, he’s sitting over you with a worried look. “Oh dear. You’re awake. You had us all worried. I think I know why this happened though.” You had a guilty look on your face and he already knew what happened. He convinces you that you need to eat something now so you don’t feel weak on your guy's big day. He’s so proud watching you eat your snack and drink water and he makes his feelings known. 

Huening Kai

He is very caring and sweet and always knows when something is wrong with his girl. He started to worry when it was Wednesday and he hadn't seen you eat or heard about anything you've eaten since Monday night. He knew it was only a day but he was so worried. He didn't want you to go without eating. luckily, he'd planned to hang out with you tonight after schedules! he picks up your favorite meal and drinks for you to eat when he arrives. 

he gets there and knocks. when you open the door you hug him and give him a kiss hello but you kind of start to change in demeanor when you see the bags of food he had. you hadn't let yourself eat in the last two days and the sight of food was just too much for you at the moment. All you could think of when you tried to eat was being laughed at by a group of girls your age who were making comments of your weight when walking down the street. you finally break down and kai follows you, leaving the food at the table. He finally gets you to let him hold you, let him wipe away your tears. you tell him everything and he was so good at just listening. He coaxes you back to the table and even feeds you if it makes you feel more comforted.

[clangenrising]

Month 17 - Greenleaf

Goldenstar settled down in the dark, cozy space underneath the twoleg nest. It smelled strongly of Songdust down here, which was comforting, but she could still catch whiffs of Schmidt’s scent - a strange mix of oat and honey laying over his natural musk. The entire place was strange, to be honest. The wood above their heads all laid perfectly flat and straight in rows, sunlight peeking through gaps at regular intervals. Somewhere deeper in, water gurgled and an ever present humm filled the air now that there were no loud sounds to cover it up. It made her fur stand on end. 

She glanced at Scorchplume and pursed her lips in a frown. Her beloved’s gaze was distant and unfocused as she huddled nearby, tail tucked around her paws as if to avoid accidentally touching anything. Even her breath was a little shakier than normal. Goldenstar had no idea what was going on with Scorch but it upset her how suddenly and without warning the behavior had appeared. She knew Scorch wouldn’t want her to pry in front of a city cat though, so she held her tongue. 

“Thanks for speakin’ with me,” Schmidt said once they were all settled. “I s’pose to start, I should ask: how much d’you know about the situation here in the city?” 

“Um,” Goldenstar glanced at Scorchplume who briefly caught her gaze before looking away. “I mostly know about how things were under Razor. I’m sure things have changed since he died though.” 

“‘Changed’ would be puttin’ it kindly,” he said, grim faced. “Since he and Tiger both passed in the battle, there’s been a bit of an argument about who gets to take over.” He winced politely as he said it.

“I see,” Goldenstar hummed. So they had killed the deputy and the leader at once and there was a dispute about succession. When that happened in the Clans, they just went to StarClan and asked the previous leader, but city cats didn’t go anywhere when they died so it wasn’t like that was an option. 

“Who’s currently in charge?” asked Scorchplume and her voice sounded strained. Goldenstar’s frown deepened. 

“Well, Sardine is claimin’ he’s next in line,” said Schimdt. 

“Sardine?” Scorch scoffed, eyes focusing for a moment. “He barely made it into the inner circle.” 

“Exactly,” Schmidt nodded. “But Oreo abdicated to him and there’s no one else with a stronger claim. A few cats have made a bid for the spot but opinion is split. There’s Bella Swan but, as a she-cat, she’s unpopular with a lot of the toms.” Goldenstar twitched her ear at that. City cats were so confusing and stupid. “And there’s Rudy. He’s very popular with the Chaff. Even though he doesn’t have a great case, he has a lot of force to back it up.” 

“Can’t you ask your Folk for an answer?” Goldenstar asked. “I thought they appointed Razor as your leader in the first place.” 

Scorch scoffed again. “The Folk don’t actually talk to cats like that. Razor said that to justify his rule, not because it was true.” Schmidt shuffled uncomfortably but nodded.

“Regardless of your thoughts on the Folk,” he said, “only Portia can really understand their will.” It was Scorch’s turn to shuffle, her lips pursed tight as she held her tongue. Goldenstar frowned. 

“You wanted to discuss this with me for a reason, I’m assuming,” she said. “Is there something you’d like me to do about the situation?” 

“Myself and some other, like minded cats are thinkin’ about rubbin’ our head on the post, so to speak, and I was hopin’ you’d have some advice for us.” 

Goldenstar’s fur bushed ever so slightly. “Me? Why me?” 

“You’re a leader,” Schmidt said, brows furrowing. “You have experience governin’ a large group of cats very effectively. You were able to win both battles that were fought. Surely you must have some knowledge on the topic.” 

Goldenstar swallowed thickly. “I mean… I have some experience,” she said, “but I’ve only been leader for about a year! And I’m not the leader of all of the Clans, there are three other leaders who I collaborated with to accomplish those things.” She felt like there were ants in her pelt. It took all of her effort not to squirm. “And besides, I had StarClan to guide me, I don’t-”

“Goldenstar,” Scorchplume said sharply and she fell silent at once. Scorch was right. This wasn’t the way she ought to present herself to a city cat, as some bumbling girl who had no clue what she was doing. She took a deep breath and tried to think about Scorchplume’s advice on speechcraft before she continued. 

“What I mean to say,” she said, sitting a little taller, “is that my leadership is a collaborative effort. I learn as I lead just like the others learn from me. I’m not sure if I can help you with your ‘politics’. They seem very… cutthroat.” 

“They are,” Schmidt sighed. “I understand. Thanks for listenin’ anyway.” 

“What exactly did you want help with?” Goldenstar asked as sympathy washed over her. “I may not be very useful, but I suppose I can try.” 

“Well, we’d like to get someone in power who cares more about the common cat, about doin’ what’s right,” said Schmidt. “We know now is the best time to make a move, what with the uncertainty about who’s most deserving and what not, but we aren’t sure which cat to rally behind or how to get cats to agree he or she should be in charge.” 

“That sounds like your problem,” Scorchplume said bluntly. “I don’t know how you expected a Clan cat to be able to tell you that but we don’t have the time to stay and figure out what’s going on well enough to solve all your problems for you. We should be leaving, before someone comes to find us.” 

Guilt pooled in the pit of her stomach at Scorch’s harsh words but she could see the reasoning. “I really am sorry,” she said, “but she’s right. We need to go home.” 

“I understand,” Schmidt said again. “Apologies for keepin’ you so long.” 

“That’s alright,” Goldenstar said. “I’m not sure if you’d like my blessings but I hope StarClan lights your path regardless.” 

“Songdust has told me about them,” he said. “I’m most grateful.”

Goldenstar smiled. “And I’m grateful too. Thanks for watching out for her.” 

“Don’t mention it,” he smiled back, a tinge of sadness in his gaze. 

He started back towards the yard but Goldentstar paused for a moment to check on Scorchplume. Her eyes were closed tight, her breathing slow and labored, like she was holding back nausea. Her tail was still curled tightly around her paws but Goldenstar noticed the way her paws were kneading the dirt absently. 

Casting a glance to make sure Schmidt wasn’t watching them, she leaned in and whispered to Scorchplume, “Hey, are you alright? What’s wrong?” 

“I’m fine,” Scorchplume lied, clearly choking out the words. “I just want to get out of here and go home.” 

“Alright,” Goldenstar said softly. “Just… let me know if you need anything, okay?” Scorch twitched an ear in response. Her own stomach churning with unease, Goldenstar slipped back out onto the grass.

“Ready to go?” called Branchbark when he saw them.

“Mhm,” she nodded. “Let’s get back to camp so Songdust can get some rest.” And so Scorchplume will feel better. She ran her eyes over her Clanmates, making sure they were all present and doing well. Songdust seemed forlorn, Branchbark eager to leave. Sparrowsway seemed irritated, his tail twitching at the tip, and Floodstrike was poorly hiding disappointment, although not as poorly as Luna who was pouting dramatically. Lastly, she looked at Scorchplume again, who seemed to be doing better, although Goldenstar noticed the distant look in her eyes, the kind of look that said “let me be anywhere but here.” It hurt to see, especially because she had no idea what had caused it. 

“Do you really have to go?” asked Luna. “Maybe you could stay the night! There’s space in my garden.” 

“No, we should go,” Songdust sighed. “Goodbye, Shepherd.” The big dog howled softly, licking Songdust’s face with his massive tongue. She cringed but stood firm instead of pulling back or being pushed over. 

“I’ll walk you back,” said Jo. “Probably best if the others stay here, though.” 

“Alright,” Schmidt said, tucking his paws neatly under himself as he sat down on the deck. “Safe travels, y’all.” 

“Yeah, safe travels,” pouted Luna. 

“It was nice to meet you both,” Goldenstar said. “You’re both welcome to visit any time.” Schmidt nodded but the smile on his face told her immediately that he didn’t plan on taking her up on her offer. 

“Let’s go,” Songdust said, “I’m looking forward to-” 

“Hold on,” a voice called across the lawn. Scorchplume immediately paled and Floodstrike hissed threateningly. Goldenstar whipped around to see Ghost appearing on the fence behind her. He looked absolutely terrible, his pelt a patchwork of scar flesh and his dark circled eyes sitting underneath two shredded ear stubs. Another cat leapt up beside him, a young she-cat who Goldenstar couldn’t help but think looked like Barleybee wearing Smokyrose’s fur. 

Jo stepped up in front of the warriors, tail arched aggressively and hissed, “Fuck off, Ghost, you no good, piece of shit, dirt bag motherfucker!” Shepherd, feeding off her energy, snarled and barked at the newcomers. Goldenstar’s fur stood on end at the sound of it and she reminded herself, gratefully, that the terrifying beast was on her side. 

Ghost looked less than pleased but not exactly afraid of the threats. “Easy, Jo, I’m just here to talk.” 

Shepherd barked again, “Leave!”

“Yeah right,” Jo laughed. “You running an errand for that fish-faced fuck? Tell him he can choke on grapes, dickhead!” Goldenstar, overwhelmed by the number of strange profanities, barely registered that the old she-cat must have meant Sardine. So Ghost was working for Sardine now. That made sense although Goldenstar couldn’t deny she was disappointed. 

“He’s serious,” the cat beside him said earnestly. “Please, hear him out!” Ghost cast her a look of appreciation before meeting Goldenstar’s eyes.

“I wanted to talk with you, honest,” he said. “About my daughters.” Goldenstar felt another rush of sympathy. 

Floodstrike hissed, “They’re not your daughters, fox heart, they’re Smokyrose’s!” Ghost’s muzzle curled back in a soundless snarl. 

Quickly, Goldenstar stepped forward and said, “Everyone calm down. I want to hear him out.” 

“Goldenstar,” Scorchplume sounded like squeezing her voice out took a great deal of effort. “We need to go.” 

“It’ll just be a second,” said Goldenstar. Bounding forward, she jumped up onto the fence beside Ghost. On his other side, the young grey cat smiled brightly at her and she couldn’t help but return the smile a bit. “What did you need to discuss?”

Ghost sighed and, with one last glance at Jo’s scowl, turned to focus on Goldenstar, saying, “I wanted to make sure that the girls are alright.”

“They are,” she replied softly. “I’m surprised that you wanted to know. If you wanted to see them you could have stopped by.” For the cat who had abandoned Smokyrose to her pregnancy, the cat Scorch had said did the same to all of his mates, this turn of events felt like it had come out of nowhere.

“That’s kind of you,” he huffed a laugh, “but I would have just made things more dangerous for them. Scorch was right when she sent me away.” Goldenstar frowned at that. When had Scorch done that? She glanced down at Scorch and found her sitting with her eyes shut and her ears pressed flat against her head again. 

Ghost continued, “It was me that got Miss Smoke killed. I thought for a while that was my punishment for caring at all, that things would be better off if I forgot about them, but I can’t help but worry. I don’t even know their names and I feel terrible about it.” He sighed and shut his eyes. The cat beside him leaned up against him and purred reassuringly. 

“Their names are Fogpaw and Slatepaw,” said Goldenstar, smiling gently. “Fogpaw looks exactly like you and Slatepaw looks exactly like her mother.” 

“Oh,” Ghost said, throat working tightly. “And they’re alright? They’re not just safe, they’re… cared for?” 

“Completely,” she assured him, leaning in to bump her forehead briefly against his. He startled at the touch, sorrowful eyes searching her face. “They’re growing into brave, kind young warriors.” 

“That’s… good,” he said, looking away, towards the city behind them. 

“Is there anything we can do to help them?” asked the she-cat. “It’s not safe to visit but if there’s something else, Ghost would like to help.” She looked at Ghost as if prompting him to say something they had rehearsed and he swallowed thickly. 

“Right, yes,” he said, glancing between the two cats on the fence with him. “If I can help, just let me know.” The words sounded clumsy on his lips but he pushed through them regardless. Goldenstar was struck with the distinct impression that he was trying very hard and it only made her heart swell for him. 

“Well,” she said, thinking, “the most important thing I can think of is getting the city cats to stop stealing our prey. It’s slowed down a bit but we’re still shortpawed. I know you’re important around here, is that something you could do?”

Ghost looked like she had asked him to eat deathberries, his scarred face heavy with despair. “I mean…” he shifted his weight uncomfortably. “It’s not so simple. The Exalted hunt for sport but the Chaff, my cats, they hunt to avoid starvation.” 

“It would be very hard to convince them to stop,” the she-cat said solemnly. 

“Maybe they don’t need to stop entirely,” Goldenstar said, an idea starting to spin in her head. “Even if they shifted where they were hunting and someone taught them how to preserve next year’s hunt then it wouldn’t be an issue really.” 

“Next year’s hunt?” Ghost asked. 

“There are certain rules we follow when we hunt to make sure that the prey can survive and breed until next year. It’s very important, not just for our continued survival but as a way to respect the blessings StarClan gives us. I could teach you if you wanted.” 

“I don’t know,” Ghost sighed. 

The she-cat leaned against him and said, in the way one might urge an uneasy apprentice, “I think it would be worth it to try, don’t you?” Goldenstar struggled to piece together what exactly was the nature of their relationship.

Ghost swallowed, searched his companion's face, and then said, wearily, “I suppose so.” 

“Goldenstar,” Scorchplume spoke up, urgency creeping into her tone. 

“Right,” Goldenstar looked down briefly, a pang of guilt in her belly. She’d been caught chattering like a queen at the border, holding up the whole patrol for hours with their gossiping. “We have to go. I know you can’t visit camp but maybe we could meet near the thunderpath some time to talk further.” 

“Alright,” Ghost said. “You tell time by the moon, right? How about I meet you when it's halfway full?”

“That sounds perfect,” Goldenstar smiled. She dropped back down onto the grass and started north towards home. The cat sitting beside Ghost whispered something encouraging and he shut his eyes tiredly. 

An idea struck Goldenstar suddenly and she paused to look at Schmidt. “Hey, Schmidt, if you’re looking for someone with leadership experience who might be interested in changing the way things are run here, I think Ghost would be an excellent cat to talk to.”

“What?” Ghost opened his eyes in surprise.

“Him?” Jo gawked. “The ‘I Don’t Make The Rules, I Just Enforce ‘Em’ fuck?” She lashed her tail, glaring at him and he scowled in her direction. 

“Yes,” Goldenstar said. “I think you two could work very well together.” 

“Well, I guess I could ask him a few things,” Schmidt said carefully. 

“Change sounds good, doesn’t it?” the she-cat urged Ghost gently. “Isn’t that what we’ve been talking about?” 

“Mm,” Ghost looked askance. Jo huffed, vindicated.

“Just give it a try,” Goldenstar said. “Now, let’s go. I’ve stalled us long enough.” 

“Right,” Jo said. “This way.” As she stepped away, she said, “You keep eyes on that fucker, Shepherd.” The dog boofed at Ghost in affirmation. The warriors hurried up over the fences, back towards their territory. Scorch sighed in relief once the yard was behind them, visibly relaxing her posture. 

“Are you alright?” Goldenstar said softly as they followed behind Jo.

“Yes,” Scorch said, and this time Goldenstar believed her a bit. “It was nothing, really. I’m fine now.” 

“Do you want to talk about it later?” frowned Goldenstar.

“It’s nothing, Goldie,” Scorch laughed from behind her mask. “Really, I’d prefer if we just forgot about it, yeah?” 

“Yeah, alright,” Goldenstar agreed. Whatever makes her happy, she decided. Brushing her tail against Scorch’s leg for a second, she focused on the path ahead, eager to get away from the noise and heat and “politics” of the city.

[zialltops]

honeysuckle’s & huckleberry’s

Cowboy!Joel (41) X F!Reader (25) | 47.3k words | wip | explicit | 18+ minors dni | enemies to lovers | slow burn | au: no cordyceps outbreak | oral (f receiving) | (semi) public sex | vaginal fingering

masterlist | ao3 | spotify playlist

You chance a glance over at the outlaw in the driver's seat while he scans his surroundings like he’s done this before, the rear view mirror and the road ahead never leaving his sight. “What if they catch up to us? I don’t want to get arrested, Joel!”

a/n: howdy folks! I’m pulling my head out of my ass and getting back into writing. These last few weeks have been leveling put for me and I’ve been feeling a lot better compared to how my life HAS been. These two were the perfect break even though this took my two whole months for only a few thousand words. I’ll be back sooner than last time with an update, but you’ll see me before then for another wip. Much love, hayhay 🤍

Chapter 8: What Was I Thinkin?

Three hours ago, if you asked Joel how the night would come to its end, he’d tell you he’d probably be in the cabin, laying in his cold bed, staring up at his ceiling fan, alone—with his right hand working his dick to the tune of the farmer’s daughter. In fact, three hours ago, he’d told Tommy something similar.

“Joel, man—I promise It looks fine.”

He adjusts the buttons on his shirt another time, stuck between leaving one undone and letting the opening linger down his chest. “Fine ain’t gonna cover it, Tom—ain’t no way in hell I’m walkin’ up to her lookin jus’ fine.” Tommy huffs from behind him and starts to go through the closet beside Joel while he stares at himself in the body length mirror behind the door.

“What about this one?” Tommy beams, He’s holding up a black shirt on a hanger, slight dust on the shoulders from it’s lack of use. He’s half surprised the moths haven’t gotten to it yet. Its buttons are made of iridescent pearls that snap in place, labyrinthian embroidery adorning the breast pockets. “Ain’t worn it since before the accident.” He lifts one of the sleeves in his hands, lingering on the fitted cuff.

His mind takes him back to half forgotten nights under neon lights, long neck bottles and ropers calluses on his rodeo-worn hands. To money wasted on buckle bunnies and broncs, to years taken off his life under the sharp hooves of a one ton animal—years he’ll never get back. Years he wishes he’d never taken for granted.

He was a more confident man then, not cocky—but proud of his abilities in the arena, proud enough to walk tall, speak surly. He was a master in his sport because he trained religiously, fully immersed in the idea that this was his only shot at making it. He still believes that, even now. He wishes you could have met him then, when he was that Joel—Rodeo buckles and spurs, cowboy hats and stadium lights. When he was a white straw hat and chaps, an unsullied grin with a thirst for adrenaline and belt buckles.

He holds the black cotton between his well worked fingers and longs to be that man again—if only for one night. Would you like him? A cowboy in his prime with worked muscles, before his beer belly and the softness in his chest really set in? “This one’s good,” he huffs, brushing the dust off the shoulders before unbuttoning it enough to remove it from the hanger. “Lemme help you.” His brother offers. Joel’s not naive, he knows the fear is visible atop the surface of his flushed skin, in the deepened frown lines and the shake in his hands.

Tommy is a lot of things, but once in a while he softens around his selfish edges and he bends a little, reaching out for the weeping limbs of his brother, struggling with all his might to keep himself standing up straight in the storm, a resilient and irrepressible figure to look up to. Tommy sees the way the longing shines through the perforations in his irises, the way his shoulders slump with oppressive burden—and he takes pity on the older man. “I’ll wash it real quick while you shower. It’ll be good as new, fresh outta the dryer by the time you're done.” He looks up at Joel, who’s still transfixed in the forgotten token of his former youth, of the man who he used to be. Items he’d left in storage down in Austin that Hank had so graciously shipped to Jackson.

He almost wishes he’d never gotten it all back, it was easier then—to hide from who he was when he wasn’t reminded of his past every single day, but once in a while—that reckless, spotlight chasing cowboy grasps for the surface. And tonight? Tonight is your birthday, the town dance, where you’re going to be, probably looking like something Joel doesn’t have a shot in hell with. It’s your damn birthday and he wants to ask you to dance but he’s not sure the fee quick dance lessons he got will suffice. What if he stumbles? Steps on your pretty little feet? Drops you?

“Joel—“ there's a snap in front of his face and he pulls himself out of the chaos inside of his mind. “Man, you are loosin’ it. I’ve never seen you this wound up over some girl—“ his eyes snap up to his brothers and he huffs lowly. “She ain’t just—some girl. She’s Hank and Lou’s daughter, people I think of as family. She’s smart and resourceful, sometimes a little reckless but she makes me feel like…like I’m alive for once.” Tommy sets the black shirt down and sit on the side of Joel's bed. Beside him, Joel's weight sinks onto the mattress. “M’gettin’ old, Tom. I don’t have a lot of good years left in me and I don’t know if I’ll ever have a opportunity like this again.”

Tommy takes a glance over at the distant look in his brothers eyes. “Opportunity?” Joel's eyes flick over and he sighs. He wishes Tommy had a little bit of what he had built inside of him, the innate goal of settling down, finding where he belongs and who he belongs with.

“At bein’ happy. Good memories for my restless nights.” If he fucked this up and missed his chance, he’s not sure he’ll have it in him again, if it will ever feel like this with anyone else. He thinks he’s done, thinks you’re it. He thinks he could give you forever if you’d let him.

“S’that why you’re so messed up in the head? What, do you think she’s going to shoot you down?” Tommy’s voice picks up in pitch, offense used like a weapon to get his point across and Joel appreciates the gusto. “Think I’m gonna go home alone tonight. Think it’s just gonna be me and the crickets and this damn hand again, dreamin’ bout how damn sweet she is.”

Tommy’s hand reaches into the breast pocket of his shirt and he retrieves a silver flask, offering it to his older brother who takes it with unsure fingers. “Just be yourself, man. Walk up to her like you belong there. Just need a little bit of confidence, don’t let her think you’re second guessing yourself. I don’t know her like you do—but I know that girl is more than willing when it comes to you.”

Joel takes a long swig of rot-gut whiskey, lets is sink into his bones and find the will to drag himself into the shower and wash away the saw dust lingering on his skin from the floor of the dance hall, ease some of the soreness in his knees and back from learning how to dance.

When he’s finished, there's a clean shirt and a flask laying on his bed. Joel finishes off the whiskey before he fastens the first button.

Liquid courage is the only thing that gets him to town.

He’s everywhere—everywhere. His hands burn on your thigh, on your hip where they dig in just a little too roughly when he pins you to the wall beside the back door. The second it closed behind you, there was a desperation clinging to the early spring air, perforating the slight chill until it shimmied beneath it and took life in the form of heat dripping across your exposed flesh. It was sticky and hot, sucking you in like a vortex straight to the center of what your world revolved around—Joel Miller and his touch that feels like fire.

He tastes like alcohol and tooth paste and part of you wonders if that’s what's changed about him, why he was so willing to let go of his reservations in-front of half of the town. He’s been drinking, drowning his insecurities enough to throw himself at you bravely.

Will he still be this Joel when you open your eyes in the morning? Will he regret it?

His teeth dig into your bottom lip and your brain goes fuzzy, stars forming behind your closed eyes. Insecurities can wait until tomorrow, you decide. His hips press forward ever so slightly and the outline of his cock can’t go unnoticed, not with the way it makes the fabric of your panties drag against your clit tantalizingly. Behind your closed eyes, the stars morph into crackles of fireworks, filling your senses with bright pleasure and desperate desire to chase those lights into the night.

You hike your legs higher, trying to drag him into the delicious delirium with you. The movement pulls a guttural groan out of the broad cowboy. “Joel—Joel,” you need his hands to leave brands on your skin where they’ve touched you, setting fire to your soul. “I know—fuck, baby, I know.” Is he crumbling like you, throwing himself into this very moment right here? Is he as desperate as you are? Does it feel like a travesty and a triumph? The yearning you’ve endured, for the victory of finally knowing what he feels like when he kisses the breath from your lungs.

It’s more than you know how to articulate—more devastating than you anticipated and yet—it’s still not enough. It won't be enough until his heart beats in time with your own and you feel him wrapped up in your body

His teeth dig into your jaw and your body reacts before you tell it to, searching for the release only he can bring you.

“Touch me, please—please, touch me.”

And suddenly, in the time it takes to flip on a light switch, he’s gluttonous, insatiable and voracious—a wild predator set loose just to turn on its careful handler. The only thing that comes to mind, in comparison, is a pack of wolves frenzied to sink their teeth into the supple flesh of their prey.

In your case—Joel is the starved pack—and you? You are but an unsuspecting doe, practically sacrificing yourself to his uncontrollable famine.

Those thick digits, adorned with callouses earned from laborious work, hastily push aside the fabric of your dress in search of your covered center. He feels so fucking good when those digits push their way past the hem of your panties and he gasps against the shell of your ear. Like it feels just as good to him, letting the pads of his index and middle finger tease the seam of your lips before slipping between and dragging those rough digits over your hardened clit. It’s all the built up want, longing, needing that makes him feel so other-worldly, you’ll never experience something like this, the rush of relief to finally be his.

His fingers dip lower, searching for the source of all this slick adorning his knuckles, when his thumb drags idly over your already sensitive clit. Its like an electric shock straight to your sternum, arching you forward in search of anchorage to this reality altering interaction. There's a hint of alcohol swimming behind your fluttering eyelids, but his shuddering groan is sickeningly sobering. You want to say something, tell him how good he makes you feel, but the words bubble up in your chest and hang in your throat in the form of a silent sob, your mouth hanging open and your toes curling against your shoes.

“There it is, huh? S’what finally gets you quiet? Just needed me to touch your pussy, didn’t you?” Where the hell has this Joel been hiding? He’s never been so vulgar, so vocal and confident in himself. His fingers tease the soft ring at your opening, smearing slick around on his fingers when he leans against your front to press his face against your heaving chest and neck. His fingers plunge in—and your body jerks against his solid form. He lets you shudder and tighten up against him while his thumb moves steadily, never coming off the peak of your nerve—locked on it with such perfected percussion that there is no jerky catch, just steady—drowning pleasure. His rough pant of breath paints your shoulder in sticky warmth and your thighs tighten around him, begging to draw him into your desperation.

“She’s just cryin’ for me, ain’t she, Honey?” His drawl sounds like sweet tea on a hot summer afternoon, like your sight set on the Austin sunset from the seat of an old saddle, driving cattle through tall grass and endless horizons.

Being touched by Joel Miller feels like coming home.

He finds a steady pace, working his fingers in and out, each drag punctuated by the ridges of his knuckles and the rough pads of his finger tips. Just faintly, you can make out the wet sound your sex makes every time he fucks his fingers into you intentionally. Its instantaneous the way heat blooms in your pelvis, knotting up in your stomach until you’re so overwhelmed, you’re trembling in his grip. “She’s so fuckin’ greedy, pretty little cunt needs to be stuffed, don’t she? G’damn, you’re quiverin’—you gonna cum f’me already?” His words are like a dirty secret, never meant to be revealed—knowing exactly what kind of storm that truth would bring. Let the rain pour down, let the thunder crack and the gusts rip the apprehension from your bones—because Joel Miller wants you and you’ve been waiting for this moment for two years.

You’ve imagined this a million times, slipped your fingers between your legs to the mere idea of this revered and dignified southern gentleman—more once you’d put a face to the elusive cowboy. No matter how deeply you lost yourself to your imagination, none of it will ever amount to the way cold brick feels against your exposed back, the way denim jeans ruffs up the insides of your smooth thighs, the way a felt Stetson bumps against your temple when his fingers curl against a spot inside of you no man has ever found, dragging the air from your lungs, robbing your vocal cords of their melody. With your eyes rolled back and your desire strung tight, you manage to string together enough sound to produce words.

“Yes-Yes, Joel—make me cum! Please!”

A third, assured finger slips in right beside the other two and slam forward, sending you spiraling down that one way path towards pure ecstasy. His fingers curl again and his thumb quickens, pushing you up and up until you’re sure you’re about to melt through his finger tips, a weeping puddle at his feet. “That’s it, pretty girl—cum on these fingers, let me feel her squeeze me.”

His command is your saving grace, the final twist that undoes the well wound rope holding you together. A variation of his name rips from your throat and consumes the space around you, invoking a bright euphoria that shrouds every nerve ending you possess. He doesn’t even know what he’s just subjected your body to—a life altering experience that you will never be able to recreate with another person. “S…s’the best orgasm I’ve ever had,” is the only thing your mind conjures up once you’ve come down enough to speak. He’s still holding onto you, slowly slipping his fingers out and letting you down with a satisfied chuckle.

“Wunna taste you,”

How will you handle another assault from that honed attention? How will you ever unsee that unruly tousle of curls between your thighs?

He doesn’t give you long enough to form a protest before he’s rushing you through the parking lot, a determination in his step that you’ve never seen. He’s surpassed the point of antsy when he yanks open the passenger door and finds leverage on your hips to hoist you up, then toss you down on the torn upholstery. You should say something—tell him to slow down before you pass out from the burn of his hands—but fuck you don’t want him to stop, consciousness be damned.

Instead, you watch him set his cowboy hat on the dusty dashboard, the silver trim of the band shimmering with luster in the golden street lamps. He drinks your body in visibly, relishing in every curve and inhale of breath. When his vision finds yours, they are nearly black with desire—his pupils having consumed every inch of bourbony brown. When his big hands find your thighs again, the resistance bleeds away and gives way to insurmountable, greedy hunger.

“C’mere, girl.” The hands on your thighs dig into the flesh, leaving finger shaped dimples in your sensitive skin. “Lemme see that fuckin’ pussy.” Jesus christ.

If your friends could see you now, they’d all laugh at how easy you are, but right now—it’s just you and your cowboy—you’ll never be anything but easy for him.

His hands move with fever, hastily pushing your dress up your hips. “I’m going to fucking ruin you, babygirl. Only word you’ll know is my name when I’m finished with you.” That same ferocious want consumes you, possessing your hands to work on their own accord, helping Joel shimmy your panties down your thighs and over your heels.

You have enough time to register the way he stuffs the black lace into the front pocket of his wranglers before that head of his is forcing its way under your dress. He spreads your legs easily, pushes and pulls with his hands until his mouth seals over your clit, drenching your nervous system in blinding heat.

He’s good, so good at this. His tongue slides through your dripping folds with a tedious, monotonous rhythm. He’s licking for a taste, for his own glutinous thirst based on the way he groans and sighs against the softness of your lips. His eyes flick up at the same time your body starts to quiver, trying to adjust to so much honed desire narrowed in on you. “J-Joel, please don’t st-top.” Your eyes start to leave his in favor of rolling back in your head when your chest arches out, searching for a breath of sobering air, for something to hold onto so you don’t crumble apart. “Feels so good—you feel so good.”

His mouth closes over you and he sucks, pulling your clit against the smoothness of his tongue as he flicks it over and over, soothing the sensitive bud, while actively robbing you of any coherent train of thought. The only sounds that leave your lungs are sharp gasps and whines, fueled by the low groaning sound he’s muffling between your thighs. He releases you and your body reels, drawing in breath after breath to catch up with your racing heart.

“Wunna split this little pussy open on me,”

Oh fuck, oh fuck fuck—fuck.

You have long enough to gaze down at him, watching as he slides the flat of his tongue through your lips, over the sensitive bud, before your head is dipping back again.

“I’ve been practicing—I got, oh, fuck Joel, like that,” you heave and he pulls away completely, shocking you into a mewling, whining mess. “You got what, baby, use your words.”

Your body bares down on nothing, /wish he would just give it up already, unbuckle that belt, push down those wranglers and fuck you like you deserve. Joel grunts while he watches, letting it rumble through his whole body. “Got a toy that’s as big as you so I could practice. So I'd be able to take you.”

His whole demeanor shifts, alternating from this brazen, confident cowboy to the man suddenly lost between your thighs, sucking and slurping, licking and moaning to himself. He’s gutless, starving and desperate, he whimpers when you squeeze your thighs and cry his name, holding on tight until the flash of blue and red and the sound of a loud voice rips him from his mission.

“Jackson Police department, step away from the vehicle!”

Joel rips himself away from your body before you even have a chance to cover yourself. “Fuck-fuck,” he looks around sharply, eying the lone officer in a tan blazer with flashing lights fastened to its hard top. The sheriff has a light in their hand, leaning over the side of the blazer. You manage to pull your dress down and scoot back, trying to hide yourself from the light shining on the two of you.

Joel's gaze falls away from the officer, parked behind the truck, blocking it in. Instead, he looks forward, into the clearing in front of the parking lot, half lit by the street lamp. His jaw clicks and he looks set on whatever is going through that big brain of his. “Put a seat belt on.”

What?

Joel grabs his hat and slides across the bench seat quickly, slamming the door behind him. He makes it across you and throws himself in front of the steering wheel, finding the ignition quickly to turn the keys in the shaft.

The chevy roars to life at the same time that he slams the gear shifter into drive and plows over the parking block. Before you have a chance to register what's happening, the blue pickup is sliding through mud and grass, leaving tire tracks in the field as he cuts through it towards the highway.

“Joel, what in the—fuck!“ you shout, reaching up for the oh-shit handle, while the other hand reaches for the solid form beside you, grasping him by the bicep as he snorts nervously. “Just—calm down for a second, we’ll lose ‘em.”

Your heart races and your nerves radiate through your entire body. You’re a good kid, you’ve never ran from the cops before, never been in trouble for crying out loud. You did your best in school, tried to make your parents proud despite your small side of rebellion. And yet, here you are—trying your best to hang on while he cuts corners and runs stop signs, old alleyways and back roads through the thickets. The truck roars past speed limit signs, loosing rodeo flyers pinned to telephone poles when he slams the gears—orange papers fluttering in the settling dust.

You chance a glance over at the outlaw in the driver's seat while he scans his surroundings like he’s done this before, the rear view mirror and the road ahead never leaving his sight. “What if they catch up to us? I don’t want to get arrested, Joel!”

He snorts, taking another random left and speeding down the street. “Ain’t gonna get arrested, honey. Just trust me.”

Trust him? How could he even ask you that, like that wasn’t what this was all along. You trusted him like you trusted the sun to set and rise again, like you trusted the birds to sing and the rivers to run—you’d trusted Joel with your family’s dream and he never let you down.

Somewhere along the way, you lose the ability to fight off your grin, Joel manages to leave flashing red and blue in a cloud of dust. He cuts through a group of trees leading into a clearing and shuts off the lights. He drives by moonlight, effectively covering his tracks and making his way onto another road, leading up the mountain towards the ranch. He pulls off another dirt road that is cut out along the side of the hill, but he isn’t in as much of a hurry as he was before. He takes a last left, bringing the truck to the edge of the hillside that overlooks the entire town of jackson—from the dance hall—to the bar—to the red and blue set of lights on the south side of town, still looking for you and your cowboy.

The world grants you a few silent moments to catch your breath, before it completely robs you of tingling in your muscles, the conscious connection between the two of you. The reality of being truly alone with him is sobering, with nothing but the trees and the wildlife to offer a distraction.

Now that the air has cooled and your heart has finished pounding in your ears, you can make out the faint hum of the stereo, the FM dial lit up by the soft glow behind it. The station is still the same as it was when you were a girl, riding in your daddy’s pickup, playing old country music like it did in the days of your youth.

Now, it rings in your ears with the nerves seeping into your bones, settling into an uncomfortable dust. Right now, of all times? Anxiety has to claw up your chest and wrap around your throat while his saliva is still drying on the inside of your thighs?

Fuck, his beard is still glistening in the green-glow of the stereo.

“You’re starin’ at me.” He says almost quietly. You expected him to tease and flirt, maybe boast, but his voice waivers halfway through and you start to pick up on his slight nerve. Under all that charm and intensity is starting to give way to a much more vulnerable Joel—a man you know all too well.

“You’re just, uh—“ you swallow thickly and try to find the courage to meet his deep brown eyes. “Your beard is…wet.” When you do find his irises, his mouth picks up in a half smirk. If he’s as scared as you are right now, he’s doing a good job of hiding it. He’s giving it everything he’s got to hide it from you.

It’s been so long and you need this. Need to be touched, appreciated, worshipped.

The look in his eyes tells you that he’s eager to kneel.

“And who’s fault is that, hmm?” That sweet, sultry accent drags you in, sliding closer on the seat until you're nearly tucked into his side, leaned back against the seat while he looms over you. He’s still nervous, you can see it floating around in his dark eyes, but his jaw clicks like he’s trying to rein something in.

Silence falls upon you once more, but unbeknownst to the cicadas and the crickets, your dancing gazes say everything you need to hear. His eyes drop to your lips and yours to his. His tongue peaks out unconsciously, wetting his bottom lip ever so slightly—like he’s tasting you there.

His mouth clicks shut and it's then that you glance up. His eyes are back on yours, suddenly so much softer with a lulled arch to his eyebrows. In the depths of his eyes you find renewed hunger, fire burning in those pools of smooth chocolate. Your body relaxes, succumbs to the form of his plains of muscles adorning his body. When you tilt your head up to him in offering, you sink so deeply into those dark pools you can nearly taste the sweetness of him like velvety candy melting against your taste buds.

“Joel—“ you choke out, deciding then that if he waits a second longer you’ll suffocate.

There's things about this life that can never be stopped, inexorable phenomenons that are unavoidable. The seasons will always change. The storms will always come, lightning will always strike. The days will always end and the sun will rise again on the next.

And Joel Miller will always, always break when you say his name like that.

He falls into you with a sharp intake of breath, crashing his mouth against yours with surprising accuracy. It’s so easy to let him take over with the perfect combination of rush and savor he puts into the way he envelops you. His mouth is soft, but persistent, wrapping around your bottom lip when he sucks it between his teeth for a soft bite that makes you want to live in this moment forever.

You nearly do because you get absolutely lost in kissing him, you don’t protest when he leans you back on the bench seat, you don’t put up any sort of fight when he spreads your thighs with his wide hips. When his hands grip your knees, you know you’re completely done for.

He pulls away from your mouth and his eyes find yours in the low green glow and there, you find everything you’ve ever longed for.

“I…I think,” Joel shifts, looking down at his hands like he’s just woken up from sleep walking straight into your heart and soul. “I think I should get you home, s’gettin late.”

Late? Your poor muddled brain cannot keep up with how quickly he fades in and out of doing anything to have you, to be terrified to touch you. How quickly he slips into a starved desire to shaking in his boots.

Not for the first time, you wish you could reach right into his brain and pull out whatever it is that makes him think you don’t want those rough hands all over your bare body. He’s already had a taste of you, already kissed you—what more could be standing in his way?

“Home? Joel, we were just getting started—“ he clears his throat and sits up, trying to slide away from you but your heels dig into his tailbone and drag him back. “Started down a road we both know only leads to nothing but trouble and regret.”

What, the, fuck?

“I’m—you think this is a bad idea?”

The uncomfortable air settles back in between you and your legs around him loosen. “Think you're going to realize really quickly this ain’t what you want and this��I’ve got…too much on the line.”

He has too much on the line? What about the ranch? Your childhood home about to be lost to the bank? What about the dance hall where he’s built a new floor to make you smile? Does it all wash away with his assumed doom?

“What are you saying? This…this was a mistake? Joel I still have your fucking spit drying on my pussy and you—you regretted it already?” The realization feels like a dull blade straight to your gut, forcing it way in and twisting you from the inside out. It burns with shame and agony and you pull yourself out from under his sturdy build.

“I didn’t mean—I regret anything, fuck knows I don’t—“ no, no. You’ve given this man so much of yourself, committed so much to be thrown around and have your feelings stomped on.

“Then what the fuck does it mean, Joel! You—you made me cum while telling me you wanted to stuff my cunt but now you think this is…” you have a realization then, that maybe—just maybe, he does actually regret it. What does he think, you’d turn around and throw him out on his ass? If he truly thinks that low of you then maybe…

“This was a big fucking mistake.” You say coldly, making up your mind as you right your bunched up dress and adjust your fixed gaze on the passenger side window.

“Take me home.” It’s not a request.

It’s not an invitation, either, Joel understands as he watches you close the front door behind you later that night, settling his made up mind.

He presses his palm to his crotch twice and comes in his pants right there in the driveway, just like he knew he was going to.

And he feels like a fucking fool.

[orcboxer]

thinkin about tumblr

it's been fascinating to watch tumblr culture develop over the years, where it was 99% fandom shit to begin with, and I feel like maybe the social justice side of tumblr started developing around the brony discourse era? not sure if that was the first, it's been a minute. but like it was technically a fandom thing, but it was about politics in fandoms, and with all these political posts circulating we started seeing entire blogs dedicated to politics in fandoms, leading to the absolutely foundational "your fave is problematic" era, which I think really set the tone for tumblr politics forever. single out a person, decide they're Bad, look through everything they've ever said and let confirmation bias guide you to something politically Bad or Close Enough To Bad For You To Assume It Is, then call it out and guilt trip anyone who doesn't circulate your very impassioned rant. maybe call them out too. and as with all communities, we start developing our own jargon as bloggers with academic backgrounds use important-sounding words that capture an Idea As Seen By Tumblr At A Specific Time, terms which eventually fall out of fashion and must be replaced by new terms and new ways of identifying things and people as Ontologically Bad. and in order to justify it, you gotta use the most superlative language possible, you have to draw a connection between the person and tumblr's current Worst Things Imaginable.

there can be no defense, no two-way discussion, no neutrality, the Bad Thing must be loudly denounced at every opportunity, whenever it comes up. if someone previously Good is suddenly called out as Bad, then they were always Bad to begin with, they were never truly Good. it was always obvious they were actually Bad, and you guys just didn't notice because you don't care how their Bad affects other people (guilt trip). distorted comparisons are made until every Bad thing becomes Maximally Bad, so that all Bad things are equivalent.

a whole community of politics built on this attitude that it is better to condemn the innocent than support the guilty. rage is a virtue and if you're just zealous enough you'll prove your status as a Good person. nuance is just a silencing tactic, not a safety mechanism. everything is obvious and everyone Good agrees with me. and on top of that somebody is gonna try to make it about fandoms again.

[ratatatastic]

"Local kid makes good. Matthew Tkachuk, Stanley Cup Champion. So how does that sound? Stanley Cup Champion?" "I think it sounds better and better each time I'm hearin' it. It's been—I think—almost 2 months, I don't even know? Time has been flyin' but it just—each day is more and more incredible thinkin' about it." "So you're here to throw out the first pitch with Jayson Tatum, you're both Chaminade proud, like, you knew each other back then, you were friends in high school, and you're still friends—tell me about that relationship." "Yeah, it's been really incredible watching him—I think we both started out in the league very similar years. I might've been a year before when he was at College but it's been absolutely incredible to follow along his journey, and his career. I still keep in touch every now and then. I know we've played Boston the last few playoffs and he's been to a few of the playoff games for me. I went to one of his playoff games last year when we were in Boston. So really, really cool just to watch him, it was really cool to see him play in person. I'm excited to see him, and throw out that pitch with him today."

los angeles dodgers @ st louis cardinals pregame | 8.18.24 (x)

"When you guys were younger—both obviously stand-out athletes—did you ever imagine you would be a Stanley Cup Champion one day? And he would win a NBA Championship with the Celtics? Did that ever cross your minds?" "No, I mean, he was way better at his sport than I was at my sport when we were that young... I think I had a pretty good idea that he was gonna be a star basketball player. I guess you don't really think about Championships at that time of your life. You always dream about it but do you really think its gonna happen? And for us to do it, you know, within a week or however long apart from each other, it just—what a great time for all of our friends and family, and people that are just supporting us in St. Louis. I feel like St. Louis with not having teams to—you know, in their city to root for, I feel like they really kind-of hopped on and rooted for us and the Celtics. That made us, especially being from here, made us feel really special." "City was behind ya, one hundred percent! Let's talk about the final. You guys were up three-zip, it goes to a Game 7. What's that like?" "It's not supposed to be easy! I feel like it wouldn't have made sense or worked if it, you know—wasn't that scenario. It was always gonna be a long series. For us to win the first 3 and then lose the next 3—I mean, that wasn't ideal but at the end of the day we were comin' back to our incredible fans in Florida for a Game 7 Stanley Cup Final. What an incredible environment! That is a dream game! You always talk about the Game 7s when you're younger, and those are the moments you dream of, and I got to live out a dream this year." "What was it like sharing it with your pop? You know in the postgame coverage, I see your dad all over the place, your brother, your sister, your mom—what was it like sharing it with them?" "It was amazin'! Just handin' the Cup to my dad on the ice afterwards was super special there—the moment where he was actually in the locker room after the game when, you know, friends and family were startin' to come down, and I got to hand it to him, we got to beer-shower him, he got to lift it up in front of all my teammates, they were all goin' nuts for him too! Because they know that he played such a long time, and unfortunately wasn't able to win one in his playing career but I think he would've, you know, traded that all and done it exactly the way it happened for one of his boys to win it. It was such a family—It was such an incredible time for our whole family and I'm so lucky to have such great support from them." "Fun to watch too! Last thing before we let you go. You look good in the Cardinals red, Cardinals cap—there was a time where your dad, Big Walt, liked the Red Sox... please tell me you're a Cardinal fan..." "I am a Cardinal fan! Yeah, that time is—I was a big David Ortiz fan so when he was on the team like he was...him and Albert [Pujols] were my two favourites so it's actually pretty cool I got to hang out with Albert over summer in a golf tournament—the ACC tournament out in Lake Tahoe. He was one of my sports heroes! Yeah, I've been a Cardinals fan ever since I can remember with Albert." "Congratulations on getting the Cup, thanks for the chat!" "Yep, thank you!"

[babyhatesreality]

Hii I read ur Blog and I'm obsessed 😍😶 I was thinkin about daddy stucky x little reader x little Peter where they are going to a Park for littles and the reader is in a very very young headspace like 1 and wears daipers and use pacis and carries a stuff and blankie around so petie is very protective about her bc he's much older like 6 or 7 and when they at the Park they notice that she's the youngest there and the reader and petie plays in the Sand when Peter get distract and goes from the reader away and after he's away another little goes to the reader and says something like "eww u wear daipers and pacis how old are u? 1?" the reader dont really understand and just plays again so the little take her stuffy and paci and says something like "u should talk when I speak with u dumb little baby" after that she start crying and the daddies look at her from where they talked and when they Start walking to her the little Start screaming answer me! U dumb baby and throws Sand at her. Petie hears her crying and goes to her and tries to comfort her with dada Steve while daddy bucky talked to the caregiver of the little and goes back to the little reader they all tried to comfort reader but she just cries and cries. Petie gives her his play car to comfort her and after a while she falls asleep in the car 💞🥺🥺🥺

Darling! I'm obsessed with you!! <3 Thank you for the sweet thoughts. It gave me the chance to explore Peter and Tony's relationship a bit too! Here we go...with the tiniest twists on a couple of your asks :)

This one time, all the Avengers took their littles to a special section of Central Park for Littles and their caregivers- a chance to enjoy the sunshine and fresh air with like-minded people.

Almost all the littles were over-the-moon excited. Except for you.

You were still fairly new to the family, only having been with Steve and Bucky for 3 months, and had never been on such a big group outing before outside of the Tower.

You were in a much younger headspace than normal due to your anxiety, crying until Papa gave you your favorite blue paci with the stars on it (it reminded you of his shield), and Daddy snuggled you in your little gray blanket with the red stars (that one reminded you of his arm). You then settled down, and from the comfort of Papa's arms, seemed okay and even a little excited with going outside.

Peter was losing his mind, he was so excited. Pepper finally just gave up trying to hold his hand after Tony's laughter only spurred Peter on, as he raced around all the Avengers like crazy.

That made you giggle- you loved to run around too- and Peter instantly caught your laughter. He raced over to you, hopping up and down.

"C'mon, Katie, come play!!" he said enthusiastically. "Uncle Steve, Uncle Bucky, can she? Can she come play?"

"That's up to her, buddy," Steve said, smiling down on the hyperactive boy. He bounced you up and down a little. "What do you think, princess? Wanna go play with Peter?"

You chewed on your paci for a moment, looking at your bestie who had the biggest hopeful look on his face. Wanda and Pietro were playing on the slide and you definitely weren't ready for that yet. Your gaze drifted over to the empty sandbox, and you pointed.

Peter's head whipped around to see where you were pointing, then he spun back to you. "You wanna go play in the sand?? That's the BEST!! Can we? Can we please?" He turned to Tony and Pepper who finally caught up to the four of you. "Can we, Daddy, pleeeeease?"

"Course you can, Pete," Tony said, smiling indulgently at his boy.

"He can what?" Pepper asked, cautious as always.

"No idea," Tony replied promptly.

Steve set you down carefully, trying to gauge how you were feeling about all of this. Clutching your blanket firmly, you held out your hand to Petey, who took it and cheered, but made sure to walk at your pace. He knew that it could be scary if he went too fast for you, so he tried his hardest to be the best bestie he could be.

You looked behind you to make sure your daddies were still there. They both waved and smiled at you, so you giggled and waved back, toddling over to the sandbox with joy.

You and Peter played, him racing his toy cars around the track he drew in the sand, and you scooping sand in a toy shovel then dumping it in front of you, giggling. Every time Peter won his own car race, you clapped with glee, giggling behind your paci.

After a while, Peter looked at you. "Imma get us some juice boxes, okay? Are you okay if I go get us juice?" he asked anxiously, really thirsty but not willing to leave you alone if you weren't okay with it. You tilted your head and smiled at him, before nodding hard.

His face lit up and he jumped in excitement. "Okay! I be right back, don't go nowhere!" And he took off.

You kept absentmindedly shoveling the sand back and forth. It was very soothing and you didn't have to talk- right up your alley.

Just then, a big kid that you didn't know walked up to you. You were a little startled, but just kept playing with the sand, trying to make him go away by ignoring him.

"Ugh, they shouldn't let little babies in here," the kid grumbled. "You still have a pacifier and everything. I bet you still use diapers too, huh? You're gonna mess up the sandbox forever," he taunted. "You can't even talk, 'cause you're just a dumb baby, right??"

You looked up at him, afraid. You hadn't been doing anything at all- why was this kid suddenly picking on you? And calling you names?

You whimpered and saw both Bucky and Steve's heads suddenly snap towards you. They both instantly got up and started making their way towards the two of you.

The bully got mad that you didn't answer. "C'mon, talk to me, you dumb BABY!" On the word 'baby', he kicked the pile of sand in front of you- right into your face. You managed to close your eyes just in time, but the stinging granules still hurt your cheeks.

"HEY!" you heard Bucky and Steve shout as they started running towards you. But before they could reach you, another primal roar hit your ears.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!" Peter screamed, charging the offender like a raging bull. He head rammed the kid right in the gut, sending him flying, before tossing the juice boxes down and leaping on top of the kid, pummeling the living daylights out of him.

"THAT'S MY FRIEND!!" Peter screamed as he beat his fists onto the bully's face and chest. "NOBODY MESSES WITH MY FRIEND!"

And that's when all hell really broke loose.

It became a massive whirlwind as Tony forcibly pulled Peter off the bully, Steve had to stop Bucky from diving onto the bully himself, Peter breaking loose with rage and going after the kid again, Steve grabbing Peter this time, Pepper grabbing the bully by the ear and hauling him away from the scene, Bucky snatching you off the ground and brushing the sand off your face desperately making sure you hadn't been hurt, and Steve handing a still-thrashing-about Peter off to Tony and marching away with Pepper to confront the bully's caregiver.

"Never a dull moment," Tony grumbled, keeping an iron grip on his boy.

Bucky managed to get all the sand off your face. "Baby, are you okay?" he asked frantically, adrenalin still racing through his veins. "Are you hurt?"

You blinked twice as the whole situation caught up to you. You began sobbing, laying your head on Bucky's shoulder.

He instantly began patting and soothing you, picking up and shaking off your red starred blanket. He gave it to you to you hold as you cried and he comforted you.

Hearing your cries, Peter stopped struggling. He looked over his shoulder at Tony. "Daddy, I gotta help Katie, leggo."

"Excuse me?" Tony said sharply, making Peter gulp and suddenly come to his senses. "You wanna try that again, big man?"

Peter ducked his head, but looked back at Tony. "Sorry, Daddy. I mean can I please help Katie now?"

Tony sighed and looked at Bucky for direction. Bucky was still fuming himself but trying to rein it in for your sake. Tony knew he needed to help out here. Who would have thought HE'D be the grown up in charge right now.

"C'mon, let's sit down, all of us," Tony said firmly, surprised when both Peter and Bucky stomped towards the closest park bench without protests.

Bucky sat down, keeping you pressed into his chest while you cried, putting his cheek on the top of your head like you liked. Peter scrambled up next to him, anxiously patting your leg.

"It's okay, Katie, I won't let him hurt you again," he said confidently.

Bucky turned to Peter, a smile finally forming on his face. "Thanks for the assist, kid," he said gruffly, but with a grin.

"Peter, are you okay?" Tony asked, sure of the answer, but needing the boy's focus. When Peter turned to him and nodded, he exhaled heavily.

"Well. Let it be known not to mess with you, buddy," he said, his stoic demeanor in place. "I'm proud of you for standing up for your friend, Pete. Mommy may have a few thoughts to share with the both of us, but me personally? Loved it. Ten out of ten. But if Mommy asks, I reminded you that if someone is picking on you or a friend, you come get one of us to help. Capeesh?"

"Capeesh!" Peter said, before hugging Tony hard and turning back to you. He gently pressed one of his toy cars into your hand.

You stopped crying, and looked at it, smiling. The car race resumed instantly.

[snapghoul]

I am so so so charmed by your Seresin twins universe. Do you have more thoughts on what they were like in high school? I love your idea of Jake standing up for Tyler (behind his back, of course), if you feel like fleshing that out in a full fic...

Thanks for sharing all your head canons and stories with us -- I can't wait to read more!! 💙💙

You got me giggling and kicking my feet, I’m so happy you’re enjoying my au ❤️❤️

You keep thinkin’ that you’ll never get burnt

The two times Jake defended Tyler with his fists.

Note: I really suck at writing trash talk oh my goddess, I can’t be mean in for the life of me even when writing.

Warnings: foul language, bullying, physical violence

Song: These Boots Are Made For Walkin’ - Nancy Sinatra

The first time it happened was during freshman year, in P.E. class, in the locker room. Jake had just finished the final day of the track unit. The locker room was buzzing with the usual post-exercise energy. Jake and Tyler didn’t have any classes together, the school knowing better than to but them in the same room.

As Jake was changing, he overheard a conversation between a couple of students he didn’t recognize.

“What’s his name? Seresin? Tyler? Jake’s brother, right?” one of them asked, curiosity lacing their voice.

The mention of Tyler was enough to catch Jake’s attention. He turned slightly, trying to gauge the tone of the conversation.

“Yeah, that’s him. I heard he’s a dirt eater. My buddy saw him at the rodeo on Saturday,” another voice chimed in, followed by a few snickers. “I think he’s a little...”

Jake slammed his locker shut, a sharp prick of anger under his skin. The casual mockery of Tyler, especially about something as hard-earned as the rodeo, stung deeply. So what if Tyler had taken a few falls? He was just starting out this season—he wasn’t going to be perfect right away.

Jake’s hands clenched into fists as he turned toward the group. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, his voice tight with controlled fury. “Tyler’s working hard and getting better.”

Jake stood firm, ready to defend his brother’s honor. The one making the comment was an upperclassman, his face smeared with cocky arrogance. He raised an eyebrow at Jake, clearly unfazed.

“Oh yeah? I say the next rodeo he gets his head stomped on. Maybe that’ll teach him,” the upperclassman taunted.

In a flash of rage, Jake grabbed the kid and slammed him hard against the lockers. The upperclassman’s head hit the metal with a sharp clang. “You shut up!” Jake growled, his voice a low, menacing roar.

The room went dead silent, the other students recoiling in shock. Jake’s anger was raw and unrestrained, his actions a clear message that he wouldn’t tolerate any more disrespect towards his brother.

Jake shoved him once more before storming out of the locker room.

The second time was the one and only time Tyler saw it.

It was Wednesday, fourth period passing time, and Jake was leaning against his friend’s locker while his buddies chatted. He noticed Tyler walking down the hall, animatedly discussing something. Jake followed his brother with his eyes until Tyler disappeared from view.

Jake would never admit it, but he was fiercely protective of his twin. He often noticed the irritated looks and whispered comments directed at Tyler, mostly because of his enthusiastic interest in science.

"God, Tyler never shuts up," Ryan, a teammate from the football team, complained beside him.

"I’m not sure which is worse—listening to him talk about science or just hearing him at all," added Declan, another friend.

“It sucks that you live with him, Jake. I think I’d rather throw myself off a bridge than be his brother,” Ryan joked, and the others laughed.

Jake was not usually prone to violence. Even if he was seething with rage he’d never engage physical aggression. But Ryan’s comment ignited a fierce anger in him. Jake cherished having a twin, someone who was always there to listen and support him. The thought of being without Tyler was unsettling.

“What?” Jake asked, his voice tight with restrained emotion.

“Yeah! C’mon, Jake, he’s fucking annoying. All he does is talk and take up space. Sure, he’s good at the local rodeo, but he’s a fucking—”

Ryan didn’t get to finish his sentence. Jake dropped his books and threw a punch so hard that Ryan stumbled into the lockers on the opposite side of the hallway. Declan, who had been standing close by, received the same treatment.

The crowd in the hall quickly parted, forming a circle around the commotion, their murmurs hushed in shock.

“Say that again, you son of a bitch!” Jake roared, his voice raw with fury. He lunged for Ryan again, his hand grabbing at Ryan’s shirt, his other fist swinging back, knuckles smeared with the blood from Ryan’s nose.

Jake’s fury was unrestrained; Tyler was far from a waste of space—he was everything Ryan and Declan were not. Without waiting for a response, Jake landed another punch. The crowd erupted into chaos, and a few teachers rushed to intervene.

Eventually, two teachers managed to drag Jake away, his kicks and curses directed at Ryan and Declan as he struggled. His fists were bruised and bloodied, evidence of the intense anger he felt.

Jake’s gaze found Tyler amidst the throng of students, his twin’s eyes wide with shock but also with an unexpected smile. Even as everyone around them tried to piece together what had happened, Tyler’s smile shone through. Then, Tyler let out a laugh that was swallowed by the commotion, but Jake caught it. Grinning wildly, Jake noticed the blood in in his teeth, a mark of the punch Ryan had landed on him. The notion fueled Jake’s satisfaction even as he was restrained, he chalked another win.