#coffee maker repair

[neververy4]

Just replaced the coffee maker switch 🐲😎

The old one broke after 2 1/2 years, and I was able to source a replacement switch on DigiKey (My options were Red/Orange/Green/solid black, I went with green :) )

$5 dollar saved this $25 coffee maker from the landfill

[perlelune]

Oblivion | Paul Atreides

There used to be beginnings and ends, nights and days, dream and reality, before the haze took over, swallowing every thought, every memory, every whisper of free will.

Warnings: NON-CON, Fremen Reader, Kynes!Reader, Mind Control, Memory Manipulation, Padishah Emperor Paul, Loss of Identity, Brainwashing, Mentions of war and religious fanaticism

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

Muad’Dib leads the way. 

It is what the prophecy dictates. That he is the voice from the Outer World. The one who will lead your people to paradise. The one who will turn Dune’s arid desert lands into bountiful, endless green fields. 

But as your eyes rest on him, you do not see the chosen one. You do not see the Lisan Al-Ghaib. You see your friend Paul, broken, lost, his heart shattered into a million pieces due to your cousin’s absence. 

He sits at the head of his bed, shadows fluttering across his delicate features from the glowglobes’ dull orange light. Wide black rings surround his sunken blue eyes, the result of his daily consumption of spice melange. Lank, greasy brown curls hang around his handsome face. A pang twists your chest. He hasn’t slept in days, has barely gotten a full night of replenishing sleep since she left on a maker’s back.

You cannot blame your cousin. Paul’s ascendency to the Golden Lion throne came at a cost. A hefty one. Promises were broken. Trust was destroyed. Only time will repair the damage that was done. Though you carry faith the two of them will find their way back to each other. 

You stir the spice-coffee in the pot, straining the shimmering dark powder before pouring some in a cup. A spicy cinnamon smell coats the cool night air. 

You rise and bring the cup to him.

“For you, Usul.”

A soft smile blooms on his lips as he takes a slow, weary sip.

“You make it so well,” he praises.

You glow at the compliment, returning his smile. Your grandmother used to show you and Chani how to blend coffee beans with spice and herbs. The knowledge never left you. Now, every time you feel troubled or upset, you make a fresh kettleful. A single sip of the familiar brew is enough to alleviate your frazzled nerves. Especially here, so far away from Sietch Tabr, between the strange stone walls of the Arrakeen Keep, you have craved little reminders of home more than ever before.

Fremen belong in the desert, not in peculiar tents made of marble and stone.

Paul’s brows crumple as he studies you. 

“You don’t have to take care of me,” he says.

“I can get another Fremen-”

His fingers latch around your wrist, desperation sizzling under his touch. 

“I prefer it to be you.” He sighs. A bone deep fatigue radiates from the sound. You halt in your tracks. You suppose you could stay a while longer. “Please, stay, your presence soothes me.”

You nod. “I’ll stay, Muad’Dib.”

Relief falls over his features. 

The doors suddenly open, the guards stepping aside to let Stilgar in. He bows to Paul.

“Lisan Al-Ghaib…”

Your friend’s mouth flattens into a thin line. 

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

Stilgar acquiesces. He will never stop addressing Paul with reverence and admiration. None of his followers believes in him more. At times, it scares you a little. While you share the same faith, the fervor with which every Fedaykin is willing to lay their swords in his name can be frightening. Sometimes you wonder if Chani was right. How much will it take to liberate your world? How much blood will require spilling? You’re not completely naive. No war was ever won without a few casualties. Still, part of you hopes the war will end soon and peaceful times will come.

“No sign of her?” Paul asks. 

A contrite expression tugs the older man’s face.

“Apologies, my liege. We scouted the Southern regions this time. We couldn’t find her. She knows the desert well. It is home to us Fremen. She will not be found…”

“...Unless she wants to be found,” you finish, grabbing the empty cup from Paul’s hands and placing it back on the table.

The faint embers of hope in Paul’s cobalt gaze flicker out. Your heart sinks, for both you and him. Though you do not wish to burden him, you miss your cousin too. Her practicality and common sense. Her strength. Without her, a piece of you is missing. A crucial one. Your mother died in childbirth and your father in battle, so both of you grew up together, close enough in age to share secrets and play together for most of your childhood. 

It was Chani who taught you how to summon a worm and ride upon its back for the first time. She is the sister tragic circumstances blessed you with.

Stilgar apologizes profusely once more before taking his leave.

As soon as he’s gone, Paul’s shoulders slump.

“She hates me.” 

You crouch beside him.

“She doesn’t hate you. She never could. She is your quiet in the storm, and you are hers. She will return when she is ready.”

A wry laugh escapes his lips. 

“I have Irulan, my beloved wife, who is likely plotting my demise as we speak. Qizarate missionaries pressing me to take action and purge the non-believers on Aldinor. I am surrounded by foes, everywhere I look.” That distant expression he gets whenever his visions haunt him touches his face. “Blades pointed at my neck at all times, waiting for a sign of weakness to strike.”

You grab his hand, reassuring him, “You also have friends, Usul, who believe in your cause.”

“Fanatics,” he corrects bitterly. 

Your chest swells with worry. You don’t like it when he questions himself as such. His cause is right. He freed Arrakis from the Harkonnen’s iron-fisted rule. He will bring peace to every world in the universe. It is written. It’s the only path forward.

“You are not alone.” His fingers squeeze around yours. Warmth rushes to your face, the realization that you’re awfully close to the Emperor striking you. You adjust the nezhoni scarf covering your hair and rise. “I shall let you rest, my Lord.”

“Stay, please.”

His tone is beseeching. Your gaze swings to the window. There, moon beams pierce through the colorful glass, scattering rainbow splashes of light across the floor. Vibrant stars pepper the dark sky, pearls lost in a sea of ink. It’s pitch black outside. You should be in your own room. Not his.

“Muad’Dib, it’s late…”

His grip on your hand tightens. When he speaks again, his tone is different. Disembodied. Powerful. Its tantalizing echo drips inside your head like honey. 

“Stay,” he mumbles. You plop down on the bed, your body moving on its own, driven by the strange, irresistible thrall of Paul’s voice.

“Usul…” 

He cups your cheeks. 

“Sleep beside me tonight.”

“I’m not her.”

“I don’t want you to be.”

“She should be with me and she isn’t. But you are.” His inflection becomes soft and inviting as he drinks you in. As if he were lumbering through the desert, parched and desperate, and you were a well overflowing with fresh water. “You are beautiful. I never noticed before.” He pauses, tracing your bottom lip. “Perhaps I should have.”

You blink, dazed. When did Paul’s face get so close to yours? You can outline each of his long lashes, the speckles of green lingering in his blue eyes. 

“Paul-”

His mouth grazes yours, his thumb stroking your cheeks. It only lasts a few seconds. The warm plushness of his lips on yours yanks you back to reality. You gasp and flinch back. When you recoil, his silky tone fills your ears once more.

“Don’t fight it. You love me, remember?”

A confused whisper slips through your lips. Two parts of your mind wrestle with Paul’s words. 

“I do?”

His eyes dive into yours.

“Of course, you do.”

“Of course I do,” you repeat, his tone nudging aside the doubts lurking inside your mind. 

A bright smile unfurls on his lips, his lids sagging to half-mast.

“It’s like you said before. You are my quiet in the storm and I am yours.”

Right. You uttered those very same words. How could you forget?

You are Paul’s quiet in the storm. He is yours.

His mouth covers yours. It moves slowly against your own. He explores your mouth as he cradles your face. His long lashes fall over his cheekbones as he loses himself in your taste. He hums against your lips, gentle fingers touching your face. You don’t move, eyes half-open as you let it happen. It’s foreign, the sensation of Paul’s lips on yours. Foreign and strange yet you can’t help but numbly accept it. 

Once he frees your lips, he rests his forehead against yours. 

“Come into my arms, my love,” he says.

You don’t resist as he pulls you into his embrace, nudging you onto the bed. Soft strands of Paul’s brown mane brush against your cheek as he buries his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling your spice-coated scent. 

His arms circle your waist. Your back melds against his chest, the warmth of your bodies mingling through the thin layers of your clothes. 

“You smell so good,” he mutters. Your scarf shifts when he rubs his face against it. “Don’t ever leave me.”

When you don’t reply, his tone gets firmer. “Promise it.”

The words roll off your tongue easily.

“I won’t ever leave you, Paul.”

Tension leaks out of his tightly coiled muscles. 

“Good,” he says, drifting off to sleep quickly with you nestled in his snug embrace. 

You fall asleep too, no thoughts in your head, Paul’s soft snores lulling you into peaceful slumber. 

You awake with a start, the stark unfamiliarity of the palatial chambers you find yourself in causing your pulse to soar. Your eyes dart about the room. Recognition hits you. These are the Emperor’s apartments.

Your eyes grow wide. You’re not supposed to be here. Panic sets in.

“W-What am I doing here?”

Paul’s quiet voice flows across your back.

“Calm down.”

“No. I shouldn’t be here…”

You start crawling off the bed but Paul’s fingers around your wrist impede your departure. 

He holds your face, vibrant blue eyes locking with yours. You find yourself incapable of looking away, ensnared by his unflinching focus.

“I said, Calm down.”

The alarms ringing inside your head fall quiet. You lean into Paul’s touch. What were you doing? What were you thinking? Every thought you attempt to grasp at evaporates in the heat of Muad’Dib’s stare. 

“There. Much better,” he coos, satisfaction hovering on his handsome face. His voice sinks into a sensual whisper. “Why don’t you kneel for me?”

You do as he instructs. Then all fades to black as quicksands of confusion engulf your thoughts. 

When you return to yourself, you aren’t on the bed anymore, but on your knees on the carpeted floor. 

Paul is looming over you, grunting, his throat bobbing. One of his hands is curled around your nape while the other is under your jaw. 

You note the saltiness coating your tongue, the drool on your chin, the soreness in the back of your throat. 

You choke on his length, air wavering inside your lungs. 

Paul’s cock is in your mouth. 

The sick, awful realization tumbles over you like a bag of stones. 

Muffled moans leave you as you lift pleading eyes towards him.

You place your hands on his thighs, shoving with all your strength. 

Paul doesn’t let you move. He cradles your face and thrusts inside your mouth until his balls are pressed into your chin. 

Clouds of lust obscure his gaze as it falls upon you. 

He caresses your face, dragging his cock out before pushing it inside your mouth again. Gurgled sounds leave your throat. Tears skip down your cheeks and you wonder when you’ve started crying. 

Fremen do not cry. Ever. Even for the dead. It is a rare, sacred act.

Paul wipes them off your face with his thumbs. 

“You love me. It is what lovers do,” he says matter-of-factly.

Your body relaxes. 

Right. Of course. You love him. It is what lovers do. 

You hollow your cheeks and suck him off. He unleashes a throaty sigh of delight as you pleasure him with your mouth. 

When his seed drips down your tongue, he coaxes you not to waste a single drop. You swallow all of it, showing no resistance when he nudges a stray drop between your wet lips. 

Several days in a row, you awake in the emperor’s chambers. At first, you experience great confusion. However, Paul’s soothing words always quell your rising panic. It becomes all you know. The Emperor’s mesmerizing voice. His large, soft bed. His ceaseless, ravenous touch. 

Sweaty, tangled limbs melting in lewd harmony.

You stop questioning it. Even the strange lapses of time when you are in one room and mysteriously wind up in another. It isn’t rare for you to wake up with the Emperor’s head bobbing between your thighs, greedily lapping at your folds, or with your hips grinding into his as he impales you on his cock. 

It is where you belong. And you believe him when he says that, mumbling loving promises into your ear in the dead of night.

“If we do not strike fast and hard, they will not accept your rule,” Stilgar says. 

“They worship a false god. We are doing them a favor,” another man sitting at the table interjects. 

A shaky exhale flows from your tongue. You look around, dismay filling you when you realize you’re in Paul’s war room amidst a council meeting. Your head throbs. How did you get here?

You rise from your chair. Bemused gazes land on you. 

Princess Irulan snickers from her seat.

“Husband, your concubine is acting strange,” she sneers.

Concubine? You step away from the table.

You blink several times as you stumble outside. You grip your temples, your forehead scrunching. That cannot be right. Is it? 

You are no one’s concubine. 

You are…

You are…

Adrenaline pumps through your blood as your head buzzes. 

The answer will not come, your mind keeping it under firm lock and key.

Frustration mounts within you. You blindly waddle around.

You end up in a room that bears vague familiarity. You lean against a basin full of water. Water…just lying around. That seems strange.

Your eyes land on a mirror on the opposite wall. The reflection in the glass has your heart rate spiking. Who is this?

You bolt to your feet, the water in the basin splashing around your feet. 

Your tremulous fingers rise to your face, horror filling you when the woman in the mirror mimicks your exact motions. 

Your gaze travels across the wide, open space. Quick breaths rush from your throat. The Emperor’s room. Why did you think it was your room? 

You stagger backwards. You gasp as you bump into a solid form.

You whirl, eyes widening.

“Paul.”

He gauges you, slight concern etched in his blue eyes. Relief fills you as you soak in his boyish, slender features, much more familiar than those of the stranger in the mirror. 

You know Paul. Muad’Dib. Paul is familiar, safe. You trust him. He will tell you who you are.

“Yes, my love?”

“Paul, who am I?”

A displeased frown settles on his brow. He approaches you and grabs your face. His expression hardens.

“You are mine. Nothing else matters.”

“But Paul-”

Your protests are stifled by the feverish press of his lips on yours. A fog surrounds your thoughts as his kiss grows more passionate, his hands sweeping over your curves. You place your hand on his chest, pushing feebly.  

“Forget it. Forget it all, beloved,” he mumbles against your lips. You sag against him. You drown in Paul’s blue eyes, time stretching beyond eternity. 

When you gain a semblance of awareness, your naked form is writhing above Paul’s. Your palms are spread over his lithe muscles, your hips moving as he slams his cock into your cunt repetitively. Paul bites his lip, his gaze glued to the sight of his length disappearing between your wet folds. 

When did you get on the bed? When did you shed your clothes?

Every inquiry melts in the heat swirling across your damp flesh. 

Your lashes flutter as you unleash a broken whimper, Paul’s hard length touching you in places that send electricity rippling through your spine.

You tighten around him and he purrs. 

“Remember nothing but my name,” he rasps, clutching your hips possessively. He impales you on his length, thrusting faster. You choke on your breath, his quickening pace driving you wild.

You brace yourself on his chest and lose yourself in the pleasure, your breath hitching each time he pounds into you.

The filthy sounds of your coupling fill the room, bouncing off the stone walls. Paul’s deep, animalistic moans. Your soft, desperate whimpers. The blunt, wet sounds your cunt makes as he buries himself inside you. The bed rattling and squeaking under your writhing forms.

“Paul, Paul…” you pant as you bounce on his cock. An intensity ignites his eyes as his name falls from your tongue like a prayer. You toss your head back, voice dying in your throat as another wave of pleasure crashes over you. Your toes flex. You tremble, your body jolting as your slick walls flutter around his length. A husky moan leaves him. He twitches inside you. His back lifts from the sheets, his body tensing as he hits his peak too. Slick warmth spills from his tip, glazing your walls. 

An errant sliver of panic lurks inside your brain. Your eyes bulge as you glance down at where your body and Paul’s are conjoined. Rapid breaths burst from your chest.

Seeming to sense your distress, he shoves your hips back down when you try to squirm away.

His authoritative voice booms across the room, unnatural, multiplied. Everywhere at once. 

“Do not move, beloved. Let me fill you up. Make you mine in every way.”

Your breaths settle down. Your worries disappear. You look into Paul’s loving gaze. A smile unfans on his lips as you ride him with abandon again.

“What are you doing?”

You pivot at the abrupt sound of Paul’s voice. You pause above the bag you’re packing. You peer at him, mulling over an appropriate answer to his question. You do not find one. You only know that you stirred awake that morning, feeling strange, sore…Lost. The urge to collect your meager belongings and leave the Arrakeen Keep seared inside you since then. A hollow, distant voice rings inside your head.

Return to Sietch Tabr.

“I have to go. Something…Something isn’t feeling right.”

The muscles of Paul’s jaw flare, his tone as ice as he states, “You want to leave me.”

Discarding your bag, you rush to him. You take his hands in yours.

“No. I made you a promise. I just need time to think…I can’t think anymore, Paul.”

It’s true. Every day feels like trudging through a Coriolis storm, your thoughts scattering as dust in the wind the minute they form.

Everything that was solid before is now sand slipping through your fingers.

Paul’s gaze corrals yours.

“You don’t need to,” he says, gripping your face. His tone dips to a soft lilt that penetrates your senses. “Who are you?”

You search his eyes. A breeze blows away every single doubt you had.

The answer to every inquiry you had is right there. In Paul’s fond stare.

The persistent little voice in your head, that pesky plea begging to be heard suddenly falls quiet. The truth echoes in your head, Paul’s powerful voice filling your mind.

You are right where you belong. 

“I’m yours,” you utter with certainty.

His face softens. “That is correct, my love,” he says, stroking your cheek.

“Now, why don’t you settle down, beloved?” You let him escort you to the bed, coaxing you to take a seat on the sheets. “Agitating yourself as such isn’t good for you.”

He sinks to the floor and drops a gentle kiss over your round belly.

“And it’s not good for the baby either.”

[mistercrowbar]

Step 1: Repair coffee maker Step 2: ???? Step 3: Drink a delicious coffee.

[sundeathh]

Random HEADCANONS

MASTERLIST

Featuring: Aizawa • Words: 865

CW: Mentions of anxiety, overprotectiveness that comes off as possessiveness, stress and burnout, insecurities, physical discomfort (nausea and mild bleeding), jealousy, potentially toxic relationships, emotional neglect.

Aizawa hates to drive, seriously. He'll likely just let you drive his car when you two go somewhere together (if you know how to drive and don't mind doing it yourself) since traffic makes him stressed. He gets anxious in traffic jams and might even get nauseous if stuck in one. He also tends to speed. If you don’t know how to drive, he’ll still drive for the two of you when needed, but you’ll have to bear with these manias of his and may want to find a way to make him less stressed while driving. 

He often gets overprotective of you. He tries his best not to but his anxiety gets the best of him sometimes, and he may act on it and make you feel like he's being possessive. If you’re more of an independent and self-sufficient person, you might get annoyed by it sometimes too, as it may seem like he doesn’t trust you enough to take care of yourself. That happens when he doesn’t voice out his concerns properly (which he often doesn’t), but in reality, he's only worried and wants to keep you safe.

He’s a devoted partner but may hurt you unintentionally, especially if you’re not good at voicing your concerns out loud too. He benefits a lot from someone straightforward about feelings that helps make it more clear to him.

He likes to sleep with his head on your chest. It makes him feel secure and it's one of the very few things that puts his mind at ease.

Aizawa has a knack for fixing things around the house. Whether it's a leaky faucet or a malfunctioning appliance, he's the go-to person for household repairs, preferring to handle things himself rather than calling a professional. (Once, he fixed the coffee maker that had stopped heating, for which you had already accepted the fate of simply buying another one.)

Despite his gruff demeanor and rough, calloused hands, Aizawa has a surprisingly tender touch. He's adept at giving soothing massages or comforting hugs, which always makes you feel loved and cared for.

He’s not naive, but because of his fierce loyalty and sense of responsibility, he may get himself stuck in toxic relationships if paired with such people. It might take him a while to get out of it and recover, since he may give in to manipulations for feelings of guilt and responsibility. (Even when he’s just being coerced into believing so). Rationally, he notices when he’s being used or manipulated but struggles not to fall into the trap anyway. But when he’s done, he IS DONE for real. ~shit might get ugly. 

Honestly? He likes to be called 'baby' or 'babe'. He gets all fuzzy inside. (It comes from a deeper need to be cared for that neither he knew he had, due to all the stress he undergoes). But he'll never admit that. “Darling” and “sweetheart” also work sometimes.

Likewise, he'll melt whenever you refer to him as "my man." If you're married, it'll also happen with "my husband."

Shota has a sensitive scalp. If you caress his hair in the right spot, he shivers and goosebumps erupt all over him. It is also a trick you can use to make him fall asleep pretty fast.

He's touch-starved. Really. Just give the man some hugs. (He'll shove anyone that's not that one person off, though).

Aizawa is a man who keeps his hygienic needs in check, but honestly, tidiness is the first thing he neglects when he’s overwhelmed with work. He’s not overly messy, but things will start to pile up if he’s working extra hours. Some not-so-obvious things may also end up going unnoticed by him. (He doesn't remember when it was the last time he washed his capture weapon).

Shota tends to bite or pick on his lips when he is nervous or stressed out, which can cause them to crack and bleed a bit. He gets self-conscious about it from time to time and usually doesn’t notice he’s doing it until it’s already bleeding and he feels the metallic taste in his mouth.

He is jealous of his favorite mug and might get pouty even if it’s you who is using it. He’ll try his very best not to let it show. (It is still clear anyway). Leave the poor man’s mug alone.

He is aware of his good looks but he still feels insecure about his worn out appearance. That's why he gets embarrassed easily if you compliment him about it. (Call him handsome or sexy and you'll have a tomato in front of you).

If he had to choose a flavor, he would say bitter, but he has a slight secret sweet tooth. (HE ATE THE LAST PIECE OF CHOCOLATE CAKE).

Aizawa is good at cooking but he prefers to eat the food you make (he always helps you clean up the dishes after dinner, though). However, if you're sick or feeling more tired than usual, he will refuse to let you do either of those things, and you better not defy him when he tells you to sit your butt on the couch and let him cook for the night. 

Likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated!

[afeelgoodblog]

The Best News of Last Week

⚡ - Goodbye Fossil Fuels, Hello Renewables: The Energizing News You Need

1. Fungi discovered that can eat plastic in just 140 days

Australian scientists have successfully used backyard mould to break down one of the world's most stubborn plastics — a discovery they hope could ease the burden of the global recycling crisis within years. 

It took 90 days for the fungi to degrade 27 per cent of the plastic tested, and about 140 days to completely break it down, after the samples were exposed to ultraviolet rays or heat. We really see a solution within five years, according to environmental scientist Paul Harvey, an expert on global plastic pollution.

2. Topeka Zoo welcomes new African Lion as female sprouts mane

The Topeka Zoo has welcomed a new African Lion to its pride, a male, as one of its females started to sprout a mane following the 2021 passing of the pride’s last male.

The Topeka Zoo and Conservation Center announced on Thursday, April 13, that Tatu, a 4-year-old African Lion, has arrived in the Capital City. He comes to Topeka from the Denver Zoo and his arrival marks a time of growth for the zoo.

3. This barber opens his shop on his day off for children with special needs – and all of their haircuts are free

On his day off, Vernon Jackson still goes to work, opening up his Cincinnati barber shop, Noble Barber and Beauty, for VIP clients: children with special needs. 

It's something he's done since 2021. "I was hearing so many horror stories that parents were going through with other barber shops and just the barbers or stylists having no patience with their child," Jackson told CBS News. "So I figured I would compromise by coming in on my day off so there were there would be no other barbers or stylists in the shop and I could give them the full attention that they need."

4. Renewables break energy records signalling ‘end of the fossil age’

Experts are calling time on the fossil age as new analysis shows wind and solar power produced a record amount of the world’s electricity last year.

The renewables generated 12 per cent of global electricity in 2022, up from 10 per cent the previous year, according to the report from clean energy think tank Ember. Last year, solar was the fastest-growing source of electricity for the 18th year in a row, rising by 24 per cent from 2021.

5. New nuclear medicine therapy cures human non-hodgkin lymphoma in preclinical model

A new nuclear medicine therapy can cure human non-Hodgkin lymphoma in an animal model A single dose of the radioimmunotherapy, was found to quickly eliminate tumour cells and extend the life of mice injected with cancerous cells for more than 221 days (the trial endpoint), compared to fewer than 60 days for other treatments and just 19 days in untreated control mice.

To explain it in simple terms because this is so freaking cool: There is a radioactive atom attached to a drug. The target cell eats the drug and the energy coming off of the radioactive atom kills the target cell

6. Colorado passes first US right to repair legislation for farmers

Colorado farmers will be able to legally fix their own equipment next year, with manufacturers including Deere & Co obliged to provide them with manuals for diagnostic software and other aids, under a measure passed by legislators in the first U.S. state to approve such a law.

Equipment makers have generally required customers to use their authorized dealers for repairs to machines such as combines and tractors.

7. When a softball player falls after hitting a grand slam, this is how her opponents reacted

----

That's it for this week :)

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Buy me a coffee ❤️

Also don’t forget to reblog

[anna-hawk]

Dexterity

Frank Castle x F!Reader

Summary: You're having some quality time on your own when Frank pays you an unexpected visit.

Explicit 🔞 • WC: 4,1k

Tags and warnings: masturbation, finger fucking, teasing, praise kink, hand & finger kink, dirty talk

Always time for Coffee series

⚠️ If you follow me on AO3, this is NOT a new fic! ⚠️

A/N: This month will mark five years since I posted my very first Frank x Reader fic. I made a small post for the series a few years back, but never a dedicated one for the first ever fic. After the news and pics of getting Frank back today, even if it's only for a small role, I was thinking back to the time I got first inspired to write and actually post something for once. It's been quite the journey since then and this series has now 16 parts, but most importantly, this fic played a big part in me joining the beautiful fandom that I've been a part of these past 4 years and getting me to meet incredible people. So I figured, let's be nostalgic and officially post it on here too.

Ever since meeting Frank Castle, you’ve been obsessed with his hands.

You know they have killed numerous people and could do cruel things to the ones deserving it, but you also know how kind and gentle they can be. When he would come to your shop as Pete, you’d seen how he would talk to one of your employees' kid, the boy having always had a short fuse, and manage to calm the boy down by simply putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. The couple of times when he’d handled the fragile elements of your ice cream maker while repairing it with those deft hands had also shown how gentle they could be.��

Yeah, you really have a thing for his hands and the guy himself.

The first time you'd met him, you'd met Pete Castiglione the construction worker, who’d been visiting your Café for the first time. You had followed the whole Punisher debacle on TV and had been very intrigued by the man’s story. Yet even though you'd thought that Pete looked familiar, it had taken you a few weeks of him coming in every other day and helping you out with an electrical problem, to realize who had actually been hiding under all this wild hair and beard. That had been the first time you had come into contact with his hands, too. He had taken off his baseball cap, looked at you to ask where the problem was while standing really close to you, and something in his expression had finally made it click inside you. You'd breathed out, “Frank Castle,” in stunned realization a moment later. In the next second, he'd had you by your throat and against the opposite wall, asking who’d sent you. You had been so startled that you’d just started laughing at the absurdity of you being able to hurt him. Okay, so maybe not really laughed as much as choked, since he’d had his fingers squeezing rather hard around your windpipe. But you'd managed to wheeze out your thoughts, and he'd released you enough for you to tell him why and how you had recognized him. He’d deemed you trustworthy enough, apparently, because he'd let go of you and apologized for overreacting.

You had promised him that you would never tell anyone about him that same evening.

As weeks passed, and he’d still come by your Café, you'd managed to build a rather close friendship. After a while, though, you'd noticed that he was coming by less and less until he stopped coming altogether, making you worried. Finally, after the day everyone had found out that Frank Castle was still alive through live TV, he'd come to your shop when you were closing. You had been even more scared for him since the news and beyond relieved to see him unscathed. You had been touched to learn that he’d wanted to make sure that no one had found out that you knew about him and come to hurt you to get to him. He'd also told you that he would have to lie low for a while. You'd suggested that he should come to your place and hide there. He had declined, too worried about what could happen to you. Still, as you'd accepted his concern, you'd told him that he could come to yours whenever he needed to, no matter the time of the day or the night. You had never been more glad about giving him your address because weeks later, he had come to hide for the night and had done so several nights until the whole thing with Billy Russo had been over.

Nowadays, he still shows up every now and again. Mostly nights because he has some business to take care of, or just to say hi. You both grab a drink (mostly coffee) and chat. You enjoy his company a lot. Okay, more than a lot. You’ve had a thing for the Punisher even before meeting Frank, but since knowing the man himself, you couldn’t help being attracted to Frank and his beautiful large hands and agile fingers. Among other things. You don't know where he stands with romantic or even only physical relationships considering his past, but you do kind of flirt with one another. You know that Frank likes you a lot; otherwise he wouldn’t come to see you regularly. But even if you want him, badly, you feel that it’s more like bantering to him and nothing more.

That doesn’t stop you from dreaming or fantasizing about him and the filthy things that you’d love him to do to you or you to him, though. And that's actually exactly what you’re doing right now. You’re lying on your bed, the sheets tangled around your legs, one hand inside your sleeping shorts while your breaths come harder and faster. You’ve been teasing yourself for what feels like an hour, fingers alternating between circling your clit languidly and pushing three deep into you to mimic the size of two of his, getting yourself closer and closer to one spectacular orgasm. You’ve got your eyes closed, face flushed, bottom lip between your teeth, while your middle finger is rubbing faster and faster over your slippery clit. Harsh breaths leave you as you picture Frank spreading you wide with his fingers and whispering dirty nothings into your ear. You’re right there, on the brink, ready to fall, when there’s a resounding knock at your door.

You yelp in surprise and flinch so hard that you nearly hit yourself in the face with how fast you remove your hand from between your legs. You’re trying to get your bearings back, your body still trembling from being strung high for so long and not getting what it wants, when there is another knock. You groan in frustration and get up on wobbly legs to go check on who wants to see you so badly at that time of night. You look through the peephole and gasp when you see Frank’s face. He'd been here only last week, and he usually shows up only once a month at best, so you’re completely thrown when you open your door to the smirking man.

“Hey, Sweetheart,” he greets in his signature gruff and deep voice, upper body pressed lazily against the door jamb.

He’s looking calm and carrying no signs of a recent fight. Meaning that this isn’t an emergency call. Good. He’s wearing dark jeans and a charcoal Henley with his usual combat boots, three days worth of stubble on his face. He looks mouthwatering, and you valiantly try not to let anything show on your face.

“Was in the neighborhood visitin' Curtis and thought I could come check on you too. Sorry it’s so late,” he continues, confirming your earlier thoughts on there being no immediate danger.

“You’ve come by way later, Frank,” you remind him with a snort and motion for him to follow you inside.

You notice that your voice came out a bit strained, and hope that he doesn’t see how your knees are still shaking after the near orgasm and the effect his unexpected presence has on you. Well, turns out that you’re out of luck. 

“You okay there?” He asks, as he follows you into the kitchen.

You groan inside, of course he noticed. You still try to play it off.

“What? Of course, I’m okay.” You hate how your laugh sounds off. You’re usually better at faking stuff like that.

“Yeah?” he says, coming to stand right before you to give you a once over. “'cause you’re all flushed and breathin' kinda hard.” He even lifts one hand to feel your temperature, but you dodge it and turn to the sink, reaching over it to get two coffee mugs out of a cupboard. Anything to avoid him see you blush even more.

“I’m fine, Frank, don’t worry… Coffee?” You desperately hope that he’s going to let it go. You need to put yourself back together and slow your breathing.

“Can never refuse your coffee.”

You breathe a small sigh of relief when he seems to accept your answer and smile at how fond he sounds of your coffee making skills. You’re about to reach for the coffee beans when he says, “Seriously, though, am I makin' you this nervous or what's goin' on?”

You put your hands back down and groan in defeat, hanging your head.

“Could you just let it go, Frank? Please?”

He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, and you don’t turn around to look at him while you wait.

“Did I interrupt somethin'?” He finally says, amusement clear in his voice. Damn him and his perceptiveness.

You hide your face in your hands and whimper in embarrassment.

“Oh God, just shut up, Frank!” Your voice is muffled by your hands. He barks out a laugh, making you lower your hands again. “You’re such a jerk.”

“Hey, hey, `s okay Sweetheart, there’s nothin' to be embarrassed about,” he tells you gently, though you can tell that he’s still grinning, the bastard.

“Yes well…” You still refuse to turn around, even though you can hear him move closer behind you.

“'could always show me, y'know,” he says, and even though the words hit you to the core because the thought alone sends a new wave of deep arousal through you, you can’t place his tone. 

That's why you do the only thing that comes to mind and gasp, turning around to backhand him in the chest and play into the joke.

“Oh, fuck you, asshole.”

You meet his eyes and see that there’s something there, lying just under the teasing glint. You suck in a breath, holding it in, while your heart beats a nervous tattoo against your rib cage.

“Or… I could help 'course,” he finally says, voice low, after what feels like minutes and not seconds, his piercing eyes never leaving yours.

You stare at him, still barely daring to breathe. The idea of him helping you out nearly sends you to your knees. Eventually, you exhale in a snort because come on, he doesn’t mean it, and go back to facing the counter, taking the coffee beans out of the cupboard.

“Yeah, right… Let’s get back to that coffee, yeah?” Bonus points for sounding offhand.

You hear him taking another step and then see his hands coming to rest on the counter, one on each side of you, effectively caging you in. His voice is a rough whisper against your left ear, making you gasp.

“Is that a no?”

Your hands, now inches apart from Frank’s, are gripping the marble beneath them, hard. You close your eyes and swallow.

“Don’t play games with me, Frank.” Your voice goes deeper and colder in warning. You might not expect anything romantic-wise from him, but you won’t be made a fool of.

“‘m not playin', Baby.”

To confirm his words, he glides his nose along your nape and bites you lightly on the juncture between neck and shoulder.

You moan, all need. That nickname. He's never used it before, but it does something to you. Babe you’ve never liked. But Baby? The way Frank says it, just gets to you. You incline your head to the side, a silent surrender, and feel him grin against your skin. Your eyes are closed so that you don’t see his right hand leave the counter, but feel it settle on your hip and slowly glide down your thigh to the hem of your shorts. To your dismay, his mouth leaves your neck.

“Spread your legs for me, Sweetheart,” he rumbles into your ear.

You oblige instantly, parting your legs and leaning slightly forward to accommodate him. Frank hums in approval. You can feel his fingers on your skin now, just beneath the hem of your shorts, slowly making their way under your right butt cheek and to your center, the touch light and measured. How is it that he's barely touching you and making your breathing speed up again? You try to relax your hands because you’re still gripping the hard kitchen surface like crazy; anything to anchor you. But Frank chooses that moment to push the short’s to the side, hooking it between your ass cheeks and the left side of your outer lips, to grant him easier access. One large finger slides through your still wet folds. One lazy pass through your slit and up to your clit, and your hands lock into place again, a harsh gasp leaving your mouth.

“Shit, already so fuckin’ wet, huh? Guess I did interrupt somethin' good.”

You say nothing, you can’t right now.

Frank keeps up his slow and torturous pace, sometimes staying over your clit and circling it with a featherlight touch that has you nearly screaming in frustration. You try to get a bit more pressure by pushing down on his finger every time he does this, but he just goes back to teasing your slit. Your arms are trembling from the strain, and you murmur a nearly silent plea for more. He seems to hear you though because he chuckles kindly and applies enough pressure for you to moan in satisfaction for a few seconds, before he stops again, too soon. When you fantasize about him, you usually picture him as the teasing kind of lover, but your imagination could never have reached this level.

“Tell me… What you been thinkin' about earlier?”

You’re kind of put out to hear that his voice is still steady, so you decide on the truth. In for a penny and all that.

“You,” you breathe softly.

His movements stop, and you’re satisfied with his reaction, when you realize that you might have overshared. His hand is moving again a moment later, and he growls deep in his throat. He presses his chest to your back, left hand coming up from the counter to grab your jaw and pull it to the side to press biting kisses into your neck and shoulder, making you keen.

“Me, huh? Fuck, now I really want ya to show me sometime…,” he pants roughly into your neck, index finger rubbing tighter and harder over you. “And what was I doin’?”

You have to concentrate to answer him, the pressure on your clit so delicious now. Your voice ends up breaking on each word.

“Something… like… that…”

“Something?”

“Finger-fucking… me.”

He inhales sharply, and you feel him adjust his position behind you, his clothed erection brushing against your ass for a second.

“Something like that?”

Two of his large fingers plunge deep into you, filling you to the brim. You cry out in bliss and go up on your tiptoes for a second as your body rises. Your back bows backward, resulting in your head coming to rest on his shoulder, while your eyes close, and you catch your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Fuck, you feel so good for me, Baby,” he groans into your temple. He withdraws slightly before pushing back all the way in, setting a steady rhythm as the way his name keeps falling from your lips keeps him going.

The hand on your jaw slackens after a while and travels down your neck, over your collarbone and a covered nipple. He’s stroking down your belly and to the junction of your thighs before he finally stops directly over your clit. He rolls it between index and thumb with just the right amount of too much and not enough pressure, or flicks quickly over it repeatedly to keep you on your toes and not know what to expect next. The rhythm of his two hands are completely different. Where his left hand is teasing you slowly but mercilessly, his right hand still has two fingers fucking you fast and deep, making you whimper brokenly. His fingers feel absolutely incredible, yet you know that it’s to keep you on the edge of release. You love and hate it at the same time. The dual sensation has you removing your head from his shoulder to take your weight with your hands on the counter again, leaning forward a bit more to push your ass out and give him even better access.

Frank grunts his approval and keeps up the pace. You feel him resting his forehead on the nape of your neck.

“Holy shit, girl, look at ya takin' my fingers so perfectly,” he says gruffly. You squeeze down on said fingers at the praise, resulting in a groan of appreciation from him.

Eventually, no matter how long he’d intended to keep you on the brink, you’ve been strung so high for so long, that your orgasm is building inexorably, your body ready to crash back down again. His continuous praise is speeding it up as well. Your legs start to shake and a light sheen of sweat is covering your skin. Your harsh breaths are intermingled with moans and gasps of please mores and yesyesyes.

“Frank, please,” you beg one last time. “Please!”

“I gotcha, Sweetheart,” Frank answers finally and starts upping his pace on your clit.

“Yes!” you hiss, elated.

But Frank is apparently not completely done with you because he removes his two fingers from inside you, only to push back but with a third one, this time. You can only cry out in surprise and deep pleasure as he gives you half a second to adjust, before he starts an intense rhythm again. You’ve never felt this full with only fingers, and you can now feel as your release starts curling hotter and tighter in your belly.

“F-f-f-frank, I’m so, so close,” you manage to breathe out.

Frank keeps a litany of words spilling out of his mouth against your neck, “So fuckin' perfect for me” and, “Takin' me so beautifully”.

Suddenly, you're right there again, just like before, ready to take the leap. You feel the shivers running through your whole body and centering where Frank is rubbing tighter and tighter circles. Frank lifts his head from yours and growls deeply into your ear. “Now come for me, Baby. Come on my fingers.”

“Oh fuck, Frank!” You mewl, high-pitched, and that’s it. Everything in you snaps at his words. The intensity of this so long to come orgasm hits you like a freight train driven by Frank Castle. Your body curves back against his, your head back on his shoulder, facing his neck. Your hold on the kitchen worktop becomes deadly again after having slackened somewhat, and you cry out in pure, unadulterated bliss. You dimly feel Frank stopping the fingers inside you and taking them out to circle your waist and push you even more back against him. His focus is on his left hand, index finger still stroking your bud with intense precision, prolonging your release.

As you’re slowly coming down, your body begins to tremble and Frank tightens his hold on you to prevent your knees from giving out on you. You finally release the worktop, fingers a bit stiff, and put them over Frank’s arm to hold on to. His finger hasn’t stop working you, though, and while it’s sending you nice aftershocks, which have you jerking and gasping against him, you finally reach down with one hand to grab his wrist to stop his movements and rest it against your waist with the other.

“Too much,” you mumble into his throat.

You stand like that for a while, both not saying anything while you try to get your breathing back under control. As the seconds trickle by, and you process the last fifteen minutes, you can’t help the laugh that bubbles up and escapes your lips.

“What?” Frank asks, and you can hear the amusement in his voice.

“That was so not what I was expecting from your visit… Not that I mind, of course,” you grin, all relaxed limbs and all.

Frank chuckles, “‘m a man full of surprises.”

You reach down to tug at your shorts and make yourself presentable again, and snicker.

“That you are,” you say and turn around in his arms to look at him, your hands coming to rest on his strong chest.

Your heart misses a beat when you see his face. He’s a bit flushed, and he’s still breathing rather deeply, but it’s his eyes that capture your full attention. They are still dark with arousal, the gaze intense and fixed on yours. Frank’s lips break out in a smirk as he catches you staring. You swallow and clear your throat as you finally take in the hard outline of his dick against your body. You’re about to open your mouth to inquire about it, but he beats you to it.

“Don’ worry ‘bout it, Sweetheart.”

“But-”

“‘m good,” he cuts in again, kissing your temple to take the sting out of his rebuttal before letting go of you.

You stay quiet and lean back against the counter as you nod vaguely. Frank takes a few steps backwards away from you, one hand coming up to rake through his hair and down his neck in a nervous gesture. He doesn’t look at you, so you decide to break the silence. You’re still floating on your high a bit and don’t want things to get uncomfortable between you two.

“So… coffee?”

You see him take a small breath and look back at you with a smile. His eyes are kind but unreadable, like they so often are when he’s thinking about something.

“Yeah, I’d like that, thanks.”

You smile and get back to grab the things you need, Frank going to sit on the couch. The silence is only broken by the coffee grinder for a small while. Your apartment is one large space with an open kitchen that gives on a big living area. A comfortable couch and a coffee table, that are framed by two armchairs, face a flat screen TV and huge floor to ceiling windows. Your bedroom with en suite bathroom is on the opposite side from the kitchen. You adore this place. From where you’re preparing the two mugs, you only have to turn your head to the left to see Frank sitting on the couch, arms thrown over the back of it, legs spread wide. He stares unblinkingly at the darkness and buildings outside your windows. You bite your lip and sigh softly. Once you’re done, one mug with strong dark coffee for Frank in one hand and in the other one with decaf because you definitely don’t need any more excitement tonight, you make your way over to him.

You walk around the back of the couch to sit at the opposite end, your back resting against the armrest. You extend your hand with Frank’s mug toward him. He blinks down at it for a second before taking the mug. He turns his upper body to face you, and you relax a little more at the half smile, half smirk that he usually wears and that he gives you now.

“Thanks,” he says gratefully and hums in pleasure when he takes his first sip.

“Anytime,” you chuckle warmly. You had been proud to find out that Frank had initially come to your Café because he had heard people talking about the quality of your coffee.

You sit there without saying anything, but this time it’s a comfortable silence, both savoring your drinks.

“So how’s Curtis?” You inquire after several long minutes.

It’s an honest question, but you also want to show Frank that you can still talk like you used to. You’ve never met Curtis, but you’ve heard a lot about him and how he has always been there for Frank. That alone means a lot in your book. You end up talking for a small amount of time, conversation becoming easier, before Frank decides to bid you goodnight. You walk him back to the door, and he envelops you in a hug that you hadn’t been expecting at this point. He kisses you on a temple like he often does, making you smile into his neck fondly before returning the kiss but on one cheek instead.

“Take care,” he rasps into your ear, before letting go of you and opening the door.

“Be careful,” you counter with raised eyebrows and a meaningful look.

Frank chuckles and nods. “I'll see what I can do.”

He walks off to the elevator, which opens for him immediately when he pushes the call button, and steps inside. He lifts a hand in a wave as the doors slide closed in front of him, and then he’s gone.

You close your door and lean against it, heaving a heavy sigh. You don’t really know what to feel right now. You’ve just had one of the most memorable orgasms of your life, but still don’t know where you stand with Frank. If you go back to how things were before tonight, that’s fine with you. You’re kind of afraid that you might have scared him off, but the way he behaved before leaving makes you feel confident enough that you haven’t. The ball is definitely in Frank’s court now. You would have to wait and see.

[tboybuck]

have a little father's day blurb about complicated father-son relationships. 1k. cross posted to ao3

steve's relationship with his parents has been complicated at best his entire life but it's only after he and eddie have an apartment together in chicago that his perception of of the father-son relationship shifts.

for the past decade or so, he's watched eddie's relationship with wayne and ached a little bit. because that's the kind of father-son relationship he wishes he could have had with his dad.

it wasn't always great, especially after his dad realized steve could mostly fend for himself and started leaving him alone more and more often for longer stretches of time. but it wasn't all bad either. his dad used to take him to ball games and he taught him how to ride a bike without the training wheels. he taught him how to change the oil in his beamer and how to bullshit his way through a book report.

mostly, though, he taught steve how to be lonely.

over the past couple of years, steve has slowly been trying to repair that stilted relationship with his old man. the guy isn't going to be around forever, and if nothing else he owes it to steve to leave him with some good memories after he's gone.

father's day has always been a bit of a weird day for steve, because his dad has always kept his feelings close to the vest, so steve's never had any idea how to navigate the day around him.

he thinks about the year he was thirteen; they'd gone to a cubs game together at wrigley and his dad let him have a cup of beer with his hotdog. he thinks of the year he was sixteen, before hawkins turned itself upside down; his dad was out of town at the condo in indy for some work conference the following week and he'd sighed when steve called him to wish him well, thinking there'd been something wrong at home.

this year is going to be different, steve tells himself.

he and eddie have invited both his dad and wayne to their apartment in chicago for dinner, and his dad is going to be here. steve's already bought a card for his dad, and his mom sent him her lasagna recipe, and he splurged for a good bottle of red wine.

hopefully this year will begin to repair the distance between steve and his dad.

steve finds himself hovering over the coffee maker at the kitchen counter, staring off into space while it brews, and eddie startles him a little when he comes up behind him to wrap an arm around his waist and kiss his cheek.

'you good?'

"yeah. little nervous.'

'it'll be fine. i made him laugh at christmas last year. remember?'

steve does remember. it was a good christmas.

it took steve's parents some time to accept steve and eddie as steve and eddie, but it's been so long now that it's not something that the harringtons can just ignore. if they want to be a part of their son's life, they need to get used to eddie. and this past christmas felt like a win - the harringtons had gifted them concert tickets and a fancy toaster oven for their apartment.

that night, after the sunday chores have been done and the laundry has been folded and put away, richard and wayne show up within moments of each other. steve and eddie's beagle mix, ozzy, greets them at the door, his tail thumping against the floor as he resists jumping up to beg their visitors for pets.

dinner goes really well; richard doesn't say anything offensive about their little apartment and eddie doesn't goad him into a discussion about politics. together, the four of them reminisce about steve and eddie's childhoods around the table, their plates overflowing with noodles and red sauce. wayne tells them stories about eddie that steve's never heard before, and richard tells stories that steve had completely forgotten about.

it's giving steve hope, this father's day dinner with his dad and his boyfriend and his boyfriend's uncle-dad.

until steve and richard are at the sink washing up the dinner dishes together, and everything crashes down around them.

'you're still young,' richard says. 'there's still time.'

'for what?'

'for you to come to your senses.'

'dad...'

'no, i mean it. there's always a job waiting for you at my firm. plenty of pretty girls in administrative roles there, too.'

'dad...' steve says again.

'i'm just saying, steven. it's time to stop playing house like this and settle down.'

'i am settled. we have a good life here. i love my job at the school. i love my life. i love eddie.'

'don't you want kids of your own? he can't give you that.'

steve scoffs.

'why would i want kids of my own? i didn't exactly have the best parental role models growing up. i'd fuck a kid up, just like you and mom fucked me up. besides, i have my students. that's plenty for me.'

'we gave you everything, steven.'

'everything except your presence. i needed you guys, especially as a teenager. and you guys just... didn't give a shit. why would i want to keep that cycle going?'

the silence in the kitchen is so loud.

'it's late. you should get going. eddie's got work in the morning.'

richard sighs.

'the offer stands. the firm is always there when you're ready.'

'just go. happy father's day.'

it comes out bitter. snappy. steve doesn't apologize.

richard goes. steve stays in the kitchen and tries not to think about it. he pops open a second bottle of wine - cheap, sweet, white, the kind of wine his father would mock him for drinking if he gave him half a chance.

he feels stupid for thinking his father could change, for thinking it could ever be different. people his dad's age are so stuck in their ways that there's no getting through to them. it's not easy but it's reality.

after wayne leaves, eddie comes into the kitchen to join steve and pour himself a glass of that cheap riesling steve's been working his way through. he doesn't say anything because he doesn't have to. ozzy curls up at steve's feet and the three of them sit together in a comfortable silence. eddie holds steve's hand atop the table.

at least steve isn't lonely anymore.

[mouthsfullofsharpteeth]

Alex kralie getting into ceramics after everything happened. Taking a class for 50$ a month. Now that he and Tim have a place and arent blowing all their money on motels, they can sort of afford it. Tim encourages it, even if Alex sees it as a waste. His argument is, Alex needs something to get out of the house for. Hes too much of a disaster to get a job, and before this he had just been laying in bed, still as stone and staring at the wall for all the hours that Tim was working. At least now he moves.

For the first few months, he makes nothing good. Mishapen pots and ugly mugs. He mushes so many projects together before they can even dry. Hating his work, disgusted by the crap his useless hands push together. When he first starts getting things back out of the kiln, he takes them home unglazed and throw them against the concrete of the parking lot. Tim arrives at their place to find Alex surrounded by broken hardened clay, and wonders if maybe this wasn’t the right thing to encourage. If maybe Alex wasn’t ready to re-enter society yet. Was he damaged beyond repair? Was there no fixing what the Operator had done to him both mentally and emotionally? Tim could feed him, make him sleep, keep him clean- repair the physical wounds. But he couldn’t fix Alex’s brain if it was already too broken.

But Alex went back to the studio again the next week. And after another month or so, Tim wakes up for work one morning, and is met with hot coffee, presented in a bumpy, shiny black and brown mug. Alex holds it out to him, one of his hands in the pocket of Tim’s sweatshirt that he must have put on.

(Neither of them have many clothes. Might as well share what they did have. Same reason they just used the same bed. Not like they could afford a two bedroom apartment anyway.)

“Thanks.” Tim stares at him, takes the mug. “Did you make this?”

“The coffee maker did,” Alex says, rubbing the back of his neck. Avoiding Tim’s eyes. He sits on the edge of the bed, near Tim’s legs. “Same brand we always buy.”

Tim raises a brow. “Right.” On the inside of the handle are the letters ‘AJK’. Tim feels a warmth fill his chest that has nothing to do with the coffee. He takes a sip.

“What do you think? Of the coffee.” Alex scuffs his socked feet on the carpet.

“It’s good. Really good. Thanks, Alex.”

The corner of Alex’s lip twitches like it does when he wants to smile but physically can’t bring himself to. Tim considers it a win.

“And it’s for me?” Tim asks to clarify.

“I gave it to you, didn’t I?” He mumbled.

Tim’s heart warmed some more.

He was right from the start. Tim was glad he encouraged this. It just proved his point- no one wasn’t worth trying to save.

[wonnieaura]

₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ. College essentials

Are you moving to a college dorm for the first time and don’t know what to bring? Don’t worry I got you. Here are a few things you can get yourself ready for a new chapter 🫶🏻💗🎀🌱

COLLEGE ESSENTIALS

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Bedding and Comfort

• Twin XL sheets (common dorm bed size)

• Comforter or duvet

• Pillows and pillowcases

• Mattress topper (memory foam for extra comfort)

• Throw blankets

• Decorative pillows

Storage and Organization

• Under-bed storage bins

• Closet organizers

• Hangers

• Desk organizers (for pens, notebooks, etc.)

• Drawer dividers

• Shoe rack

• Storage ottoman (can double as seating)

Kitchen and Dining

• Mini fridge

• Microwave

• Electric kettle

• Coffee maker

• Reusable water bottle

• Plates, bowls, and utensils

• Mugs and glasses

• Tupperware (for leftovers and snacks)

• Snack stash

Bathroom Essentials

• Shower caddy (for transporting toiletries)

• Shower shoes/flip-flops

• Bath towels and washcloths

• Toiletries (shampoo, conditioner, soap, toothpaste, etc.)

• Robe

• Toilet paper

• Laundry basket and detergent

• Bath mat

• Mirror

Study and Technology

• Desk lamp with adjustable brightness

• Laptop and charger

• Power strip with surge protection

• Extension cords

• USB flash drive or external hard drive

• Noise-canceling headphones

• Desk chair cushion (for added comfort)

• Notebooks, pens, and planners

Décor and Personal Touches

• Wall art or posters

• String lights or LED lights

• Rug (to make the room cozier)

• Plants (real or fake)

• Photo frames or a corkboard (to display memories)

• Command hooks (for hanging items without damaging walls)

• Curtains (if the dorm allows)

Health and Wellness

• First-aid kit

• Reusable face masks

• Hand sanitizer

• Disinfecting wipes

• Vitamin supplements

• Water filter pitcher

Miscellaneous

• Fan or space heater (depending on climate)

• Tool kit (for small repairs)

• Umbrella

• Bicycle lock (if biking to campus)

• Reusable shopping bags

• Sewing kit

[cream-and-five-sugars]

Jaune’s daily to do list:

disastrous lighting of the morning lantern (stop the first fire)!!!

save PP from the residual water from stopping the first fire

BRUNCH!

patrol the town - check-in on individual PP

stop the pebble tower from toppling!!

secure the dam

save Ren from falling into koi pond

watch out for tearable twos!! >:(

keep away from shredder!

if any traveling salesman / traders come through, check for hazardous goods

if you wouldn’t give it to a baby, DON’T give it to the PPs!

help w/ daily construction / beautifying projects (so PP don’t get injured)

LUNCH!

no more fried foods (too much grease)!

tea shop fiasco

stop the second fire

save PP from the residual water from the second fire

check-in at sandpaper knife-shop

help rake the sand (*you’d be surprised how dangerous a rake can be!)

keep Oscar away from anything that can be used as a kite string

STOP. THE. GOOSE.

repair scarecrows in rice fields

**if late, fight off giant crows / make new scarecrows (Ruby will help)

stop carts from crashing --> east marketplace

stop the coffee maker at the café before it EXPLODES

[call? get all?] paper indoors before DAILY WIND SURGE

stop Nora from climbing pebble tower during the storm (trust me, this one ends poorly :( )

take the scissors from Neptune

stop the “bandits”

stop the third, and final – hopefully? – fire

help Pyrrha w/ her hw :)

stop the un-foldening (*you’ll know it when you see it)

take away the makeshift lightning rods during the storm

get Paper Pleasers to bed

final rounds

find a way home...

[whatyadrawin]

The Fruit After the Flesh 18+ -Chapter 7-

Minors DNI!

Masterlist

Approximately 3,543 words

Pairing: Thomas Hewitt (Headcanon) x AFAB reader

This chapters Warnings:  Sexual language, health concerns, foul language, mild mention of abuse, brief mention of infertility. I guess just all the usual slasher fucker warnings? Use your own discretion.

A/n: I went into the ZONE for this one, I spent all day on it, ALL DAY. In this chapter I round out some characters a bit more and I get Y/N to push some boundaries. I'm falling in love with this little world. Check the masterlist for some home layout references if you're interested in the layout of the property. As always, reblogs, likes and comments are extremely appreciated, and I hope you enjoy the chapter and art!

Tag-List: @fan-goddess

Chapter 7

A week went by slower than molasses as you stayed in Luda Mae’s room the entire time, only leaving to get a little bit of movement. You were generously allowed to stay at the Hewitt house until your home could be repaired, the entire time you stayed at the house you were weak with a persistent cough from the smoke, so you slept most of the time you were there so that you could recover; Today, you finally feel back to normal.

You had made a call to a company in the next town over who specialized in reconstruction from fire damage, they let you know that the work would take at minimum 4 months to complete and the cost was fairly high; You were fortunate enough to have a large sum of money from Tilly, who left you a dragon’s horde of wealth in her will, so money was not a stressor for once in your life.

Waking up to the sounds of a farm everyday was comforting, the wind blowing through the tall grass, crickets and birds singing songs, chickens and cows going about their business, it was extremely pleasing to hear these sounds every morning. The more you explored the property, the more beautiful you realize it was, despite being banned from viewing certain rooms and areas, there was still so much to see; you could tell that this family was once quite wealthy, they had a large mass of land and the home was enormous, there were fixtures which only the rich could have afforded, they were old and a bit damaged but the extravagance was still there.

You made your way to the kitchen for some coffee and see Luda Mae frying some eggs, she turns to see who entered and smiled when she saw you,

“Mornin’ sweetheart! It’s real nice to see you up and movin’ around this early. Want some eggs? I just been fryin’ some up for breakfast, there’s also coffee in the pot over by the stove.” She turned back to her frying pan and grabbed a plate to place the eggs onto.

You accept her offer and make your way to the coffee pot, you had been so drained of energy the past week that you always woke up so late and were unable to walk around much without coughing up a storm, today you felt strong. You place your coffee on the table and sit down, the kitchen was quite a decent size much like the other rooms in the house, American houses in the south had such massive rooms, they all felt so spacious.

The kitchen was full of mixed technology from varying eras, the stove and fridge were from the 50’s while the coffee maker and the smaller appliances were all from the late 90’s or early 2000’s. There was a theme to this kitchen which tickled your brain, strawberry themed. The kitchen window was situated in front of the tub style sink, it had white curtains with a red strawberry pattern which just added to the coziness. The walls were colored a salmon pink which beautifully accented the white laminate countertops, you saw that the molding was painted that same soft eggshell white from Luda Mae’s bedroom but the floor was still that dark walnut wood which ran throughout the house.

You turn to Luda Mae and say,

“I feel really bad for staying in your room, I really don’t mind sleeping on the couch or somewhere else so you can get your space back.”

She laughs and replies,

“Funny you mention that ‘cause I have a surprise for you. Been workin’ on it the whole time you been here.”

You were wondering what she got up to everyday, it seemed like she was nowhere to be found whenever you were awake. You even rarely saw Tommy while you stayed at the house, but Luda Mae assured you it was just him wanting to give you space to recover; apparently, he asked about you every day, and would keep watch for whenever you emerged from the room.

You quickly finished your breakfast in the anticipation to see what this surprise was,

“Ok Luda Mae, I want to see what you have in store for me and then I’ll come back and do those dishes.” You didn’t want to seem like a lazy freeloader, it was the least you could do. She responds,

“You ain’t wasting time doing no dishes while you have your first day of full strength. After I show you what I been workin’ on, you best go outside to get some fresh air.” She smiles at you playfully and takes your hand to guide you to where the surprise was.

You pass the main foyer and make your way through the dining room to reach the edge of the living room where there was a door. You were not allowed to go in the room past that door so you were curious to see what she was hiding, she stops you before you go any further and says,

“Ok Y/N, I know you been wonderin’ what’s behind this here door, and I don’t blame you. I want you to close your eyes and don’t peek ‘till I say so.”

You agree and cover both your eyes with your hands, she guides you through the door and walks you into the room,

“Ok now open ‘em!” she says excitedly.

You open your eyes to reveal a large bedroom, there’s a queen size bed still covered in its original plastic in the far corner of the room, and a writing desk by a large bay window overlooking the meadow. Large cabinets and wardrobes fill up space on the walls while another set of doors can be seen on the opposite end near the bed leading to the outside patio; The walls are a very old white color with one good size chandelier in the middle of the room dangling from the high ceiling, still with all its crystals in-tact. Your eyes widen and you are struck with awe, Luda Mae squeezes your hand gently and says,

“This was bein’ used as storage, it was meant to be my daughter’s room from a very long time ago but, I was never fortunate enough to have her.” She looks down at the floor,

“What happened?” You ask, not realizing that it may be a touchy subject,

“Oh, I’ll tell you that story someday. I want you to know that this room is yours to have, regardless of when your home is fixed, it’ll always be here for you.” She smiles at you endearingly and then continues, “And you can call me Mae from now on hun, no need to say its entirety, just don’t call me Luda.”

You nod and follow with, “How come you don’t like Luda, if you don’t mind me asking?”

She shakes her head,

“Me n’ Charlies Pa used to call me that, he was as mean as a starvin’ coyote, liked to hit and berate us both.”

You understood and dropped it, “I’m sorry you went through that, I’ll make sure to just call you Mae then.”

Luda Mae smiles and hugs you with one arm from the side, you match her and hug her with your arm and you both look at the room together side by side.

“I have no words for how grateful I am to have you in my life Mae, you have been like a mother to me and I feel like I could never repay you for your kindness.” You start to feel tears well up in your eyes, overwhelmed with the generosity of this woman.

“Theres’s nothin’ to owe dear, I did this of my own volition. I want you to enjoy it, all I ask is that you start feelin’ like family, because you are.” Her sincerity was enough to make tears stream from your eyes, which she wipes with her handkerchief.

You give her a hug and hold her tightly; you don’t know how to thank her but you promise yourself to make her as happy and loved as she has made you feel.

“You’re such a sweet girl Y/N, I want you to make this here room your home, do whatever you want with it, paint it, move the furniture, hell, whatever your heart desires!” She kisses your head and you release the hug saying,

“Will you help me decorate?” you ask.

Luda Mae looks at you with an excited smile, “I was hopin’ you’d ask!”

-

After the incredible surprise, Luda Mae left to go clean the kitchen and she sent you to go outside to get some sunshine, she handed you a straw hat and said,

“Go on now, explore a bit. Maybe go bug Thomas for a bit, he’d like that.”

You laugh and make your way outside; you start looking around the property and notice a whole lot of things. In one end of the property, behind the house near your new bedroom was the meadow for the cows to graze, next to the house across from the barn was a wheat field, in another end behind the small forest there was what looked like a vehicle graveyard which spooked you a little; there were cars with license plates from all over the U.S. and many different kinds of vehicles in varied states of decay. You decided not to explore that section due to potential hazards; you make your way through to an unexplored part of the property behind the forest which was between the meadow and car graveyard.

This area of the property had some trees around it which gave it privacy, in the middle of this tree perimeter was a large swathe of tall green grass, you found this odd since most of the land you saw was covered in dry, yellow grass. You tried to make your way through the bush, ensuring you don’t step on something dangerous, the further in you went the more wet the ground got -this must be where all the ground water is rising up- you felt a sense of excitement as you got closer to the center.

You finally reached a pond; it was fairly large and was surrounded by beautiful native plants. The water was crystal clear; you could see right to the bottom which was modestly deep, there were lily pads dispersed throughout the surface, and tadpoles played in the shallow zones. You felt an overwhelming desire to swim in it, the water was so pure looking that it was like a dream. So, you did.

You took off all your clothes, the surrounding forest shielded you and the Hewitts were all too busy with chores and farmwork to bother coming by, so you felt sure that you would be left alone. The water was a refreshing temperature and it felt amazing on your skin which was sweating from the heat of the day, as you made your way into the deeper parts of the pond you see small fish bolting out of your way, you decided to only go as deep as your shoulders.

You weren’t sure how long you were in the pond for, it was too incredible of a sensation to pass up spending time in. The birds sang for you and the water felt so comfortable, the shine of the sun passing overhead left a shimmer effect on the pond surface. You kept your hat on to protect you from the intense rays and you could not have been more relaxed, the small fish now were coming up to your toes and nipping at them which tickled you. Nothing could be better than this, it felt magical.

Back at the house, Luda Mae checked the clock on the wall and called out for you, when she didn’t hear a response, she went to ask Charlie if he had seen you.

“I hadn’t seen that sweet piece of ass nowhere Luda, I been busy as hell fuckin’ with this damn broken fence.” He was mending the fence by the road all day which had some damage from cows messing with it, he followed with,

“Go ask that kid of yours, I bet he knows where she went. He’s always tryin’ to get a peep on her. He needs to let off some of that pent up frustration, the boy’s brain is already like mud we don’t need him fantasizin’ all day.”

Luda Mae rolls her eyes and heads toward the barn where Tommy was feeding the chickens, she walks up to him and rubs his back asking,

“Son, have you seen Y/N today? She isn’t responding when I holler.”

He shakes his head and looks worried,

“Can you go check to see she hadn’t gone too far out? I worry she got herself lost. I have lunch ready for everyone too so both of you come on back to eat when she’s found.”

Tommy nods his head and immediately heads out from the barn to search for you, he began looking around in the wheat field which didn’t take long because of his incredible height he could see over all the wheat. He goes to check the meadow but doesn’t see you, the car graveyard was next which worried him. When he looked around all the vehicles and didn’t see you, he grew more concerned, the forest area had human traps still left in it from the bad days in the past, he was scared that you were stuck in one.

Tommy carefully made his way through the forest, cautious to avoid trap areas, he still didn’t see you and this made his heart race. He didn’t want to find you hurt and there was a very real risk of that, he paused and tried to listen. The sounds of humming could be heard in the distance, that’s when he remembered the pond and he bolted towards it as quickly as he could.

When he got to the pond area the humming was just you singing a song to yourself, he thought it was the most beautiful sound in the world. He decided to quietly make his way through the reeds so he wouldn’t scare you and stop your singing. For such a bulky man he was incredibly quiet, and with his hushed footing he got past the reeds and saw you in the water, naked.

Tommy immediately turned his head away; he was already intoxicated by your body from the night he saved you from the fire where you had so little clothes on already, and now your body was completely bare. Tommy tried his best to be gentlemanly but his aroused curiosity got the better of him and he just sat there gazing at you like a lion hiding in the tall grass watching their prey.

You looked like a mermaid, your singing was like a siren calling to him, putting him under a spell, he didn’t want this moment to end. He couldn’t see anything much below your shoulders thanks to the sun illuminating a glittering glow around you, he wanted to black out the sun for hiding your beauty from him.

Tommy couldn’t resist moving in for a closer look, he had never seen such beauty in his life, all he wanted was to be with you in this pond sharing in the relaxation and freedom. He wasn’t careful where he stepped and his weight was too much for the soft mud shelf to bear, so he fell in the pond making a lot of noise. You let out a scream and turn around to see a large splash, you try to think if there’s alligators in Texas, and panic sets in.

Tommy got his footing and stood up in the pond, the water in that area was deep for you, but on him it only reached under his pecs. You felt relief at the sight of him, his hair was slick and stuck to his face, he looked like a dog with long fur who was getting a bath, it was cute. Tommy gasped for air and moved his hair from his face pushing it back away from his eyes. You were so taken by him revealing his face again that you didn’t move, his dark green t-shirt clung to his chest and revealed erect nipples underneath. You couldn’t help but giggle a little bit after he turned his head to you looking embarrassed.

You had the biggest crush on this behemoth of a human, every day last week was like agony not being able to see him, he was all you could think about which helped keep your mind off the memory of the fire. He didn’t move from where he stood, he also couldn’t stop staring at you, a devilish smirk appeared on your mouth. You move your wet long hair over your chest for modesty and call out to him,

“I didn’t know you guys had a paradise hiding on your property.” He rubs the back of his head and looks around nodding, you follow,

“Why don’t you come out of the pond this way, it’s a gradual incline here so it will be easier to get out for you.”

He shakes his head and tries to turn back to get out the way he came, so you push,

“Thomas, I can move out of the way if you are too scared to look at my body. Don’t put yourself at risk of drowning, just come out this way.” You felt so bold, the magic of the pond gave you a strange confidence, and Tommy being so shy was endearing and only bolstered your sudden jolt of extroversion.

Tommy hung his head and covered his eyes as he made his way past you, he slipped on the slick mud underneath and fell backwards into the water right next to you, splashing you as he went down. You giggled as his head slowly came up from the water, a very annoyed and embarrassed expression on his eyes. He was able to sit with his butt on the pond floor and his head was able to remain above water, he didn’t move from being too scared of further making a fool of himself.

Seeing him so close to your bare body made you incredibly aroused, you couldn’t help but swim up to him and get between his legs so you could hold onto his chest. You smiled at him and said,

“Don’t be embarrassed, I don’t think this pond is very friendly to such… impressively large men. Why don’t you stay a while and just relax in the cool water with me?”

Tommy’s eyes were so wide you thought they would fall out of his head, you saw his cheeks flush and he was breathing heavily, you were close enough to hear his heartbeat which was racing. He had never been this close to a woman before, well, a woman who was alive and willing to be near him, let alone a naked one. You stare into his eyes, they were so full of emotion and deeply blue like the Pacific Ocean on a summer day reflecting the light of the sun on the water, you were mesmerized, you said,

“You have the most beautiful eyes, Thomas; I could get lost in them.” You reach out to move some stray hairs away from his face.

Tommy was overwhelmed with carnal desire; it was taking a lot of restraint to not touch you and he was worried that if he did, he wouldn’t be able to stop. He had never felt this way before, he thought his heart was going to explode from pumping so fast, he could feel his veins throbbing and a very specific organ was painfully pressed against his jeans. When you touched his face, he couldn’t take it and instead of just grabbing you and taking you, he got up and ran out of the pond towards the house at lightning speed. The last thing he wanted to do was to hurt you, or overstep a boundary you didn’t want him to cross, his head was so full of new swirling emotions, he was drunk on the desire you put in him and it was too alien of a sensation for him to handle.

You watched as Tommy got up and ran away from you, it made you laugh seeing him flustered like that. You knew you were tempting a beast but there was a deep lust and longing inside you that wanted him to let loose and ravish you. You were so erotically excited that your groin was aching for touch, it didn’t help that you noticed a massive snakelike shape pressing through his jeans as he got up to escape your spell, the prospect of his size was enough to make you bite your lip thinking about what it looked like freed from the bonds of his pants.

You got out of the pond and put your clothes back on, you made your way back to the house feeling proud of yourself -at least now he must know where I stand- you were looking forward to more overtly flirtatious encounters in the days ahead.

Next chapter-

[ghostwise]

“seeing an object and thinking of them” for hamal & zev pleeeaaase 🫶🏽

They live out of their packs, carrying only what they need to survive: rations, basic supplies, weapons, and precious few comforts. Of these, there is the boar bristle hairbrush Zevran has allowed himself to keep. The oils Hamal uses for his skin. Sunscreen and elfroot extract. Zevran's boots, which he imagines they rescued from their cold exile in Haven. Keeper Mahariel's necklace. Their wedding rings.

Eventually, however, they need to go shopping.

And as Hamal finds himself ill-suited to the bustle of a typical Antivan marketplace, Zevran is happy for the chance to wander alone and stock up on sweet smelling soap, coffee, beeswax, spices...

There is one other thing he has in mind.

Hamal's shirt is long past mending. It is patched and thinning in several places, though the man would never admit this; after all, he'd spent the last month of the Blight wearing a shirt that was more repair than fabric.

Which is precisely why Zevran has taken the decision into his own hands.

Hamal deserves something fresh and comfortable, not the worn tunic he's carried for years. Zevran rather suspects it's a bit small in the shoulders for him as well. He's filled out a bit, now that he's on a proper sleep schedule and enjoying the far superior food Antiva has to offer. Health and happiness look lovely on him.

So, it is time for a change. This is not a whim, it's a necessity. Zevran ventures to several clothing shops, seeking the right shirt for his husband.

It should be linen, or percale… something apt for the heat. It should be slim in the arms--billowing sleeves, while quite fetching on Hamal, would get in the way of his bow. Definitely no buttons… they'd gape. Actually, that might be a plus. Perhaps something with laces?

When Zevran finally makes his way back to camp, his pack is cheerfully filled with all his day's purchases. He walks right up to Hamal, trades his welcome back vhenan with a kiss, and immediately tugs at his shirt.

"Take it off," he says.

He need not say it twice. Hamal laughs and tugs the garment over his head.

"Alright, now, put this on!"

Zevran takes the old shirt, shoving the new into his arms.

Hamal blinks at him. His eyes trail down to the shirt, a snow-white percale cotton with dainty sprigs of lavender embroidered on the fabric.

"You tricked me," he says lightly.

"Do you like it?"

Hamal hums thoughtfully as he puts the shirt on. Zevran notes with some relief that it fits him well, and the low neckline is suitable, too.

"These little leaves are pretty," Hamal says, tracing the embroidery along the collar and sleeves.

"It reminded me of you," Zevran said softly, hoping to convince him. "And the color matches your eyes. I bought ribbons for your hair, too. A few different colors to match."

Hamal laughs at that. "Ribbons! I love you, truly!" he says. "Ma serannas. I do like it."

"Thank the Maker," Zevran sighs.

Not that he was worried, but Hamal is slow to such changes sometimes. No doubt he'll want to keep the old one.

It's like clockwork.

"The old one isn't that bad!"

"It's bad," Zevran says with a smile, and he smooths a hand over his shoulder, picking lint off the fabric. "Amor, it's practically falling apart."

"Not at all. It has a few years left!"

"As my pillowcase," Zevran agrees with a laugh.

Hamal considers it. "Alright," he says, charmed by the idea. "Deal."

[fishfingersalad]

Idk why but im thinking about the rvbs and their teams food and cooking situations.

Red team's fridge is full, mostly of food, and a handful of random items that someone put there either by accident or on purpose. When something runs out it gets replaced, maybe not immediately, maybe not without complaint, but it gets replaced eventually. They'll buy each other's favourite foods if someone's feeling down. Even Lopez will go out and buy milk if he hears someone complaining, and he doesn't even eat. Red team food as a love language. Grif cooks, and hes damn good at it. Doc and Donut bake. Sarge is like a dad who hears you say you like oranges once when you're six and from then on there's always oranges in your house, he also grills on a barbeque. Simmons can't cook for the life of him but he can make a mean smoothie. Locus makes chilean foods that mean comfort and home to him. Lopez says he doesn't see the point in cooking, since he can't eat, but the reds have never had to hire a repair man for their oven or fridge. Even after Simmons managed to melt a pot on the stove.

Blue team's fridge has a half pack of energy drinks, twenty bags of grapes, and half a container of mayonaisse that's been sitting there for several years. (The reason why they have so many grapes is because Caboose likes grapes and decided to buy as many of them as he could carry. He was then banned from grocery shopping). Tucker and Church have been arguing over whose turn it is to go shopping for months. Wash went shopping last and he refuses to give in and do it for them. Tex and Carolina aren't around enough to be on the chore list. It's actually Kai's turn but she finds the arguing entertaining, plus she can always just go get food from the reds. The only thing in their entire kitchen that is consistently taken care of is the coffee maker. They make things work though. They take turns to order take out and eat off the containers the food comes in to avoid arguing over whose turn it is to wash the dishes. It's messy and annoying but it's theirs and it works.

[fairy-writes]

Okay sending in another since I thought it might be easier in two messages

Could I also request Be My Forever with Uta for the event? I hope you've been doing well, and congrats again! 😊

BE MY FOREVER

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Tokyo Ghoul

Pairing(s): Uta x Gender Neutral!Human!Reader

Song: Be My Forever by Christina Perri

Notes: Hey! It’s been a hot minute since I saw you on my dash! I hope you’re doing well!

This is also pre-Kaneki, so pre-Tokyo Ghoul.

__________________________________________________________________________

Your relationship was a disaster waiting to happen. 

Uta should have known. A human and a ghoul could never have a safe or stable relationship. 

But neither of you cared. 

We're on top of the world.

We're on top of the world now, darling, so don't let go

Can I call you mine

So can I call you mine now, darling

For a whole lot of time

My heart finally trust my mind

And I know somehow it's right

He met you when he first opened up his mask shop. He had been in his early twenties at that point, just starting out. The business had, of course, been slow at first. No one knew about the little shop in the fourth ward that sold masks to humans and ghouls alike. 

But once the word got out, ghouls started trickling in for masks to hide their faces from Doves. Occasionally, humans would come by for one reason or another. 

And one of those humans was you. 

And oh, we got time, yeah.

So darling, just say you'll stay.

Right by my side

And oh, we got love, yeah.

So darling, just swear you'll stand right by my side.

He looked up from the coffee he was drinking in the back room as the bell above the front door jingled. Setting the drink down, he meandered his way into the main room, where you were looking at all the masks. You crouched down to look at one on one of the lower shelves, tracing a finger down the design of the leather.

“Welcome.” He said simply, and you jumped to your feet, whirling with wide eyes to stare at him. However, once you realized it was only him, you relaxed. You didn’t seem to mind nor care about his appearance. A fact he found the most intriguing. Usually, people would recoil at his looks, thinking he was a ghoul. And he was, but no one else had to know that. So he hid his kakugan under the guise of it being tattoos like everything else on his body.

“You are the mask maker, yes?” You asked him curiously, getting closer than most people did unless they had to. Again, you seemed at ease with him. Yet another thing that was intriguing about you. 

“Call me Uta.” He said, and you brightened,

“Alright, Uta. Can you make me a mask?” He liked how his name sounded coming from you. So he found himself readily agreeing. 

We're on top of the world.

We're on top of the world now, darling, so don't let go

Hmm, I've got something to say

You're perfect in every way. I'm gonna shout it out

I'm wanna tell you now

'Cause I know somehow it's right

He took your measurements, asked you a couple of questions about what you wanted, and found himself genuinely enjoying your company. So much so he was almost sad that you left. The two of you exchanged numbers strictly so he could message you when your mask was done. 

It was strictly business. 

At least, that’s what he told himself. 

And oh, we got time, yeah.

So darling, just say you'll stay right by my side

And oh, we got love, yeah

Darling, just swear you'll stand right by my side

Even after your mask was finished and you paid for it, you still messaged him from time to time. It began business-like enough. Questions on how to care for the mask or requests for minor repairs as it wore over time. 

Then it evolved when he was drunk on blood wine and messaged you asking you to coffee. It was innocent enough, right? It was just coffee. 

Just coffee.

Be my forever

Be my forever

Be my forever

But one coffee outing turned into two. That turned into four. Soon Uta didn’t call them outings. He called them dates. Was this a date? He hadn’t done that before. He had been too busy as the leader of the fourth ward in his earlier years, and he hadn't bothered once he had opened his mask shop. 

Be my forever

Be my forever

Be my forever

“You’re a ghoul, right?” You asked him one day when he was walking you home. He had taken to doing that when he discovered you lived in the eleventh ward. That was where Aogiri resided and was nearly inhabitable for humans. But you told him the rent was cheap and the apartments were nice enough, so that’s where you would stay until something better came up.

Part of him wondered if you’d move to the fourth ward with him. But he was too scared to ask. 

“I am. Does that bother you?” He replied, and you shrugged, hand brushing his as you keep your eyes forward. His heart stutters at the feeling.

“Well, are you planning on eating me?” At this, he shakes his head,

“Of course not.” You glance at him and grin, your hand reaching forward and entwining fingers with his. 

“Then no, it doesn’t.” 

You're my bright blue sky.

You're the sun in my eyes.

Oh, baby, you're my life.

You're the reason why

It doesn’t take long for things to change between you after that. 

Uta holds your hand whenever he walks you home. He touches your shoulder when you practice making masks because you tell him you want to learn how. He has a special coffee cup explicitly reserved for him in your apartment, and you have your cup in his. 

We're on top of the world.

We're on top of the world now, darling, so don't let go

(1, 2, 3, 4)

He kisses you under the moonlight precisely a year after you first met. 

You taste like sugar and coffee, and your arms play with the hair at the back of his neck as you lean in close. His hands fit snuggly at your waist, and he doesn’t let go until he has to come up for air. You lean your forehead against him, brushing noses with him as you grin that brilliant smile reserved just for him. 

“I love you.” He says, and you lean in to peck his lips again.

“I love you too.”

And oh, we got time

Yeah, we got love

So, darling, just swear you'll stay right by my side

Oh, and we got love, yeah

So, darling, just swear you'll stand right by my side.

The bell jingles above his shop, and he turns from his worktable. Uta finds a small smile playing on his lips when he realizes it’s you. You wander over and lean your weight on his back, pressing a kiss to his temple as you peek at the current mask design he’s working on. 

“What do you think?” He asks, more out of wanting to hear your voice than anything. He knew it would look good. He hadn’t worked this hard to hone his skills for nothing. 

“I love it. It’s not my mask, but I love it nonetheless.” You tease, running a hand through his hair and gently working the elastic from it so it falls down his shoulders. 

“I’m glad you like it.” He leans his head against your shoulder and presses his nose to the underside of your jaw. 

You smell like coffee and sugar, and the particular smell that was unique to you alone. 

It was his favorite. 

Be my forever

Be my forever

Be my forever

He should have known things would go wrong, especially when you didn’t show up or contact him for three days. 

Uta unlocks your door with his key and opens it. 

And immediately smells blood and the stench of a ghoul. 

He drops the sunflowers he had purchased in an attempt to appease any anger you might have held toward him because that was the only thing that made sense. You had to be mad at him. That was it, right?

Be my forever

Be my forever

Be my forever

You are in the kitchen. 

What’s left of you anyway. 

Your eyes are glassy and dead. Blood spatters up the cabinets, and viscera is strewn all over the floor. The window is open in the other room. That must’ve been how the ghoul got in. 

Was this a hit from Aogiri tree? 

He didn’t care. He couldn't even find it in him to cry as shock rooted him to the ground. 

Will you love me forever?

I'll love you forever.

Be my forever

He had known all along, somewhere deep in his heart.

He shouldn’t have gotten attached. 

Your relationship was a disaster waiting to happen. 

But that didn’t change the fact that he wanted you by his side forever. 

He wanted you to be his forever. 

Be my forever

Be my forever

Be my forever

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Doctor Who, but Chronologically: 46

Well. Tonal whiplash.

We advance three years, to 1986, and therefore we go from an almost aggressively mid Gatiss story on a Russian submarine to World Enough and Time, the Capaldi season finale that opens with the Doctor stepping out of the TARDIS mid-regeneration (which we've seen! It was a WW1 story with Mark Gatiss as an actor! He's a much better actor than writer), then cuts back in time to show us lovely companion Bill being horrifically cyber-converted on a Mondasian colony ship. I wish we were still on that submarine.

LOADS of plot though WOW. We get so many answers! Can't wait to update the list. The story proper starts with Bill, the ever-confusing Nardole ("I should go back to being blue" he muses at one point, because what the fuck is he), and of all people, Missy. They step out onto a 400 mile long colony ship stuck by a black hole which therefore has fun timey-wimey stuff going on whereby the top of the ship is moving much more slowly in time than the bottom. This is, to be clear, an absolutely fantastic concept to base a sci-fi horror story around, but only if you have a writer capable of spotting plot holes big enough to drive a bus through, which alas we do not have, so the whole thing is permeated with a constant urge to scream "JUST GET BACK IN THE ELEVATOR YOU FUCKING IDIOTS" at the screen.

So. They arrive, and Missy is pretending to be the Doctor while he listens in from the TARDIS. She describes Bill and Nardole as "Exposition and Comic Relief."

"Those aren't our names," Bill says.

"They aren't names, they're genders," Missy replies.

We are then treated to a flashback in which the Doctor says Time Lords don't care about genders and their associated stereotypes. This juxtaposition seems to be entirely unintentional.

BUT! So many answers. The Doctor explains that Missy is his oldest friend and a fellow Time Lord (our first Other Time Lord! Interesting, since we've been told repeatedly that the Doctor is the only one left.) They were friends together in the Academy, they've both changed gender since, and she's very like him so he wants her to be good.

"She's a murderer" says Bill, and the Doctor straight up compares sapient people to animals in an analogy I suspect Moffat thought was Really Clever, but I suppose it's a very Colin Baker response. In any case, this is presumably why Missy was living in a vault in the TARDIS, and could fly a TARDIS, and it confirms now that she is not, in fact, another regeneration of River. Origins for both! Huzzah. Let's see what's happening back on the ship.

A blue man immediately shoots Bill for being human.

Ah.

He does this because as soon as they arrive, the lifts start moving and rising to their current floor, and whatever is inside is specifically attracted to humans. The Doctor could in fact have prevented him shooting, but rather than actually stressing to the blue man that he will just put Bill back in the TARDIS to hide her, he instead chooses to go on an extensive self-aggrandising monologue about how great he is and is still mid-sentence when the lifts arrive so blue guy just fucking blasts a dinner plate sized hole right through her chest. Some patients in bandages step out, and take Bill's cooling corpse for 'repair'. They go down in the lift.

So at this point two things happen, to whit:

Bill wakes up in a hospital with a sort of coffee maker strapped to her chest, and spends the episode variously befriending a weird fake Russian (why so many fake Russians atm?) with a nakedly rubber face. His name is Mr Razor, and he does provide excellent comic relief. It turns out that the bottom of the ship has been here for generations and so is decaying - the air is engine fumes, the walls are rust, so some medical personnel are trying to upgrade everyone so they can move up in the lift and escape to a higher floor.

The Doctor realises the time difference as the lift with Bill is still going down. Rather than immediately following, he spends ten minutes explaining how black holes warp time to the blue guy who is not even going to be coming with him, and whom they ultimately abandon. This means Bill is down there for years.

Still, good to know the limitations of the TARDIS, eh? I mean, everything would have been solved if they'd simply been able to, I don't know, materialise outside the ship at a safe distance and then tow it away from the black hole. Clearly black holes must defeat the TARDIS. Got it. I shall remember this for future stories.

Anyway, here are several issues:

Of the 50 odd staff who were running this empty colony ship, many went down to the bottom floor when they first got stuck by the black hole. At this point, they did not bother going back up in the lift. Instead, for reasons that are entirely unexplained, they decided to stay down there and form a society, so the ship is now filled with their descendants. We literally know the lifts work; the people came for Bill immediately. There is no reason for the original staff to have done this.

The only difference it should make is that the blue guy would appear to the crew to have not moved in the ten minutes they were down there. They absolutely could still get back, though.

Like I have had days when I have felt 1000% done with my job but I have never decided to just build a house where I'm standing and start a colony so I don't have to go back to the office.

Perhaps, Tumblrs, you are wondering, like me, why the people on the bottom floor now can't just. You know. Get in the lift. Once again, in order to get Bill, several patients immediately got in the lift and came up for her, and then returned with her. So they do literally know it's possible. Bill asks this of Mr Razor. "We sent up an expedition to the higher floors once," he says. "But we never heard back from them."

Yes, that is blatantly the time difference, isn't it.

If there are still humans on those middle floors, why haven't they been retrieved by the patients? They came immediately for Bill, and she was on the top floor.

...and on, and on...

ANYWAY then Mr Razor BETRAYS Bill and has her cyber-converted. There is, fair play, an excellent reveal that these are Mondasian cybermen, which admittedly I did guess but still, credit where it's due. The conversion is shown to be more horrific than you can imagine, too. Semi-converted patients at one point are on a ward, repeatedly pressing speech buttons that say "Pain" and "Kill me", and the nurse who comes in just turns off the volume so they can't be heard. It is, imho, way too fucking dark for this show, actually, but that largely sums up Capaldi's era.

And that's the cliffhanger! The Doctor and Nardole staring in horror at crying Cyber-Bill (apparently she's still flesh inside the suit, though, that sure does imply it's reversible). BUT!

Also Mr Razor finds Missy and he peels off his rubber face.

"I had to wear this mask because I used to be Prime Minister on a different planet," he declares, which is baffling to us as we have not seen this, and also that doesn't make sense. "I'm a past incarnation of you and also the Master."

SO THAT'S THE MASTER! A character we have only heard named in passing. SO MANY answers in this episode.

I also still don't understand Nardole.

“She” (an unknown person) is returning (NEW INFO: perhaps River returned as Missy. River and Missy are separate! Could be either of them I suppose. Maybe Me? Maybe Clara???!)

There is something on Donna’s back

An entire planet, Pyrovilia, just… disappeared, somehow. (Maybe because the TARDIS is exploding??? Saturnine was also lost, and that WAS because of the TARDIS exploding. The lion man’s planet was also lost but he was a bit of a knob about it if I’m honest. The Thijarian planet was destroyed by some sort of impact). Is this the Flux?

Amy is maybe dead (she’s not)

The Doctor has been cubed (he’s out, but how?)

River is possibly blown up  (NEW INFO: unless she’s Missy. She's not Missy. Nope: she is definitely not blown up)

The TARDIS has blown up  (It’s fine now. Except it’s sort of melting now because it’s corrupted, but it’s fine again. NOPE, back to not working.)

The universe appears to have ended  (the universe is back again)

The Doctor has employed(?) Nardole

(And Nardole was “reassembled???” Nardole had glass nipples and invisible hair?? NEW INFO: he used to be blue, and could apparently go back to it??? WHAT THE FUCK IS HE)

NEW INFO: There’s a vault in the TARDIS and it contains Missy but we don’t know why (sometimes she knocks for the bants) She's a murderer and a fellow Time Lord and he's trying to rehabilitate her.

There’s an immortal Viking girl now. Her name is Me and she’s now looking after the people the Doctor abandons

Why was Rory entirely unconcerned by the entire world suddenly going silent when that is Not Normal and should have been, at the very least, extremely disconcerting?

What did the Doctor do to Queen Lizzie One?

Why is Amy seeing a one-eyed woman in a vanishing window? (She’s with the Silents, but we don’t know why Amy saw her)

Why is Amy’s pregnancy inconclusive? (Maybe because the baby had Time Lord DNA?) She’s deffo pregnant and the baby becomes River, but why inconclusive?

Who is Sarah-Jane Smith?

How is the Doctor Bill’s teacher and why/where does he have an office?

What is going on with the Cyber War and the Cyberium???

What happened with the Other Cyber War?

What happened with the Third War that deleted the void?

Why does Rose seem particularly important?

What order do these Doctors go in? (Eccleston, Tennant, uncertain, Smith, Capaldi, Whittaker)

Which companion just… forgot the Doctor, and how?

Yaz and Vinder are about to die as Mori/Mwri/Muuri (Not anymore, somehow)

There is a Lupari shield around Earth.

What’s a Time War?

What’s the Rift?

What’s Bad Wolf?

In which war did the Doctor become a war criminal, and how?

Who is the Master? NEW INFO: This is now resolved! The Doctor's oldest friend, a fellow Time Lord, but also a murderer.

Why has Amy forgotten Rory? How did she forget a Dalek invasion?

Is Rory plastic or not? Yeah, must be, he couldn’t possibly remember being plastic otherwise

Why is the Doctor sulking on a cloud?

How exactly does the Doctor have a cloud?

What exactly happened with Strax to, uh, tame him?

Which friend killed Strax?

Which friend brought Strax back?

Where did this lesbian lizard and human couple come from?

What happened with Clara as Souffle Girl and the Daleks?

How does Clara actually join?

Why so many Claras? A psychic midwife says she’s just normal human

Why is Missy apparently in robo-heaven?

Why is probably!Missy pushing Clara and the Doctor together?

What is Trensilor and what happened there?

Who is Handles?

The Doctor is about to be dissolved by a beautiful geode man

The universe is being crushed by the Flux

Will the Doctor open the fobwatch?

Sontarans are invading Earth again

Who is Kate?

Who is Osgood? Another name of Clara’s again?

The fuck is the deal with the Grand Serpent

Does Martha get to go to an ice cream planet with 12-fingered massage aliens?

How did the Doctor forget Clara?

Who is Bill’s puddle girlfriend Heather?

How did Nardole die?

When does Bill get Cyberman-ed and die? NEW INFO: Resolved! On a colony ship stuck by a black hole

When does the Doctor shrink and enter a Dalek called Rusty?

Whittaker is falling to her death rn

Was that ring relevant?

Does anyone know the Doctor’s name?

When did Yaz talk to Dan about fancying the Doctor?

When did Dan talk to the Doctor about fancying Yaz?

What’s happening with the bees?

What happened with Donna’s ex and a giant spider?

What war wiped out the Daleks, and is it one of the ones already mentioned?

What did the Doctor mean when he said “The (Daleks) always live, while I lose everything?”

If Dalek Caan is the last Dalek left why are there more now?

How did the rest of the Time Lords die?

How and why did Amy melt?

What’s the question that will make silence fall?

Why do the Silents… want silence to fall?

How and why are Silents at war with the Doctor when he… hasn’t even heard of them?

How does Hitler get out of the cupboard?

What’s the significance of fish fingers and custard?

Why does the Doctor feel guilt about Rose, Martha and Donna?

What happened with the space whale?

When does Rory defend Amy for 2000 years? Since Roman times, it seems

How does the Doctor survive River? He doesn’t, apparently

How does he erase himself from history

Did Captain Jack lose his memories to the same people as the Doctor? What did he lose?

When did the Doctor send the Daleks into a void to save the universe?

What’s with the weird crack in the wall and is it affecting memories?

Why do Amy and Rory think the Doctor is dead? Is it because of River as an astronaut?

Is Matt Smith’s Doctor a tree racist?

Why is the beautiful geode woman stealing people into a Passenger form?

River says she’ll die one day when the Doctor doesn’t remember her, let’s hope she doesn’t mean it

Why doesn’t the TARDIS like Clara?

When was the Master Prime Minister?