#haven’t written these in a while

[robinsgrl]

toxic baby daddy rafe does something to me. no soft rafe (only with his girls and only sometimes). he’s abrasive and harsh. even more when someone messes with you. yooo where my panties at

mdni 18+

It’s been three months. Three months without Rafe as your boyfriend. Three months of his only title in your life being your baby daddy. There were days where you would refuse to even call him that.

In high school, you loved the sound of his voice. You loved how the palm of his hand felt at the small of your back. You loved that being around him brought you a sense of peace.

Now, all you two do is argue. About everything and anything. Even if you do start half of them. Not now, though.

“What I do in my spare time is none of your business!” Luckily, Samara’s in the living room, her noise cancelling headphones on as she watches some YouTube show, giggling when something funny comes up. You’d usually try and pay attention to her screen time but you can’t when Rafe is in your home and bitching at you.

“So you’re whoring it up when Samara’s with me?” His words are harsh, spitting them at you.

Your eyes are wide and bewildered as you look up at him, chest rising and falling from the intense match you’re having. “Listen to yourself! Whoring it up? Are you from the fifties? Women can have sex without being called a whore nowadays!”

“So you are fucking someone? Who is he.” It’s not a question. It’s a goddamn demand and you hate the way it makes your knees feel weak.

You scoff loudly, rolling your eyes. “I’m not fucking anyone.”

“Don’t fucking lie to me, ___, Topper fucking saw you.”

“Topper’s your dick rider.” You spit back out. It comes without warning. His big hand falls on your neck, tightening around you. Your back pushes up against the wall, eyes wide and up on his as he stares down at you angrily.

His face nears yours, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. A shudder runs through your body and you want to shut your legs to help ease the sensation between them but he forces his knee to you. “I’ll kill any man who gets near you, do you fucking hear me?” His words are low and menacing. From anyone else, it’d be scary. It’d drive you away and straight to goddamn police station. But from him? You can’t deny how good it feels.

Rafe’s always been protective of you. Since you two met, he’s hovered around you like a scary dog, growling at anyone who came your way. It grew when you got knocked up in your senior year of high school. And it grew tenfold when your baby girl was born. But it got to be suffocating. You broke it off with him and it took him two weeks to realize you were being serious.

You would never admit that you made a mistake. Not ever. Admitting that you miss him only lets him win. It gives him a point. And yes, you should be mature enough to realize this isn’t a game but he’s so damn cocky about it. The last thing you need from Rafe is a bigger ego.

“Who is he?”

“Eric. Eric Jones.” You admit easily, breath shaky and full of a need for him.

“Did he fuck you?”

You can’t answer. He repeats himself.

“Did he fuck you?”

You nod, hands falling to his arm as his hand tightens on your neck. His eyes won’t leave your face, taking you in completely. You can see it all. The anger. The jealousy. The twinge of hurt. He pulls his hand from your neck and pulls away from you. “Call your mother. Tell her to pick Samara up.”

“What?”

“Just fucking do it.” And you do. Like always, you do as told and Samara’s off with her grandma for the night.

“He can’t fuck you like I can.” You’re a drooling mess as he pounds into you from behind, the sound of skin on skin meeting fills the room. His hand is in your hair, forcing your head back. “Tell me. Tell me how good I make you feel.”

The moans and whimpers coming from you won’t stop. You try to form words as he keeps shattering your world but it won’t come out. “Fucking slut. Answer me.” His hands trail down to your neck, pushing you up slightly to sit as he keeps fucking into you. Your back arches up against him, toes curling as you feel the building ache in the bottom of your belly.

He groans loudly as he feels your walls clench down on him as you curse out loud, grinding down on him to reach that peak you want so badly.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so fucking tight. He couldn’t even fuck you right, could he? My poor girl, getting fucked by amateurs.” His fingers trail down to your freed tits, pinching at your pebbled nipples. “I don’t care what break you think we’re on, when you need a good fucking, come to me. No one can ever make you this cock drunk.”

You’re nodding frantically, “yes, yes, fuck, Rafe! Rafe! Oh, fuck!” You come undone when his fingers find their way to your clit, rubbing at your sensitive and pulsing bundle of nerves.

At this very moment, you’re grateful for the house that Rafe bought you instead of cooping up in the one bedroom apartment you wanted when you moved out of his place. You had hated the power he had for giving you such a nice place but you’re grateful now as you moan and yell his name, body convulsing as his fingers keep working against you.

“Raaaafe, fuck!” He’s pushing deep and deeper as he pushes your front side back onto the bed. The overstimulation is making you writhe beneath him, pretty whimpers leaving your swollen and reddened lips. You can tell he’s reaching his own end when his thrusts become harder and longer, momentum slowing.

One pump. Two pumps. Three. Four. And he’s groaning in your ear, his front pressed up against your back as he comes inside of you from behind, your cunt fluttering around him at the full feeling of his load.

—

You awaken hours later to the bed dipping beside you. You had fallen asleep in Rafe’s arms after he had cleaned you up and whispered soothing and sweet nothings into your ear.

“Rafe?” You sit up tiredly, rubbing at your eyes to wipe the sleep away. His back is turned to you, the most relaxed you’d seen him in a while.

You scooch closer to him, pinched eyes trying to take a look at him. A small gasp leaves you as you see his bloodied and scarred hands. “Go back to sleep, baby.” His polo is covered in dribbles of blood, some drops of it drying up on his face.

You want to ask questions. You want to clean him up. But you can’t. You’re not a very good liar and the last time the police came around asking for your help, you almost broke, but Rafe was always thinking of you, his lawyer cleaning up the mess you made with the police. He had kissed and soothed you down from your teary apologies that night for being weak.

You nod, yawning softly, “okay… just… put the shirt in the wash.” It’s his turn to nod, a soft smile on his face as he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

[morganbritton132]

Part 2 of this post:

Steve probably could’ve handled it.

He wouldn’t have liked it and he’d bitch the whole time about the handcuffs, but annoyance did a lot to starve off panic. He could’ve been fine.

Let Eddie get his joke in and then disappear into the background. It’s not like he didn’t deserve to be the butt of a joke or two.

He could’ve done that but then Eddie touched his face.

He put his hand on his cheek and pressed his thumb against his chin, and Steve’s vision fizzled out into punch, punch, punch, questions and no answers, pliers and fingernails, needles and Robin. Fear.

All he could hear was his own ringing ears echoing around his skull like an empty house. It takes his a second to realize that someone is talking and another second to realize that it’s him. Words pressed together, breathing short, “I work at Scoops Ahoy, I work at Scoops Ahoy, I work-“

Awareness floods back like a tidal wave - all at once - and everybody is yelling. Telling Eddie to hurry up. Steve only connects the urgency to the handcuffs once they’re off and a hand is clasped over his wrist when the metal cut in.

He must’ve struggled. He struggled last time too.

Steve looks around, wide eyes on a lot of faces but not - “Where’s…?”

“At home,” Dustin said readily. “Robin is at home. And she is safe, and - and alive.”

Steve nods and then the numbness breaks, embarrassment floods him. This isn’t the first time Dustin has caught him in the middle of a panic attack but it’s the first time anyone else has and, yeah.

“I have to go,” He says standing up abruptly, shaking off Eddie’s hand. The cuts not so bad but the skin will probably bruise. “You can get a ride with-“

“I got him,” Eddie finally speaks. “Harrington, I’m-“

But Steve is gone and Dustin follows. Neither comes back.

When Eddie asks what the hell just happened, Mike gives him a bitch look and says, “Dude, he was in the mall fire.”

That answers nothing.

[lovlidollie]

thinkin abt being kenji sato’s best friend n always being there for him when he needs it the most :( you’re always by his side, giving him motivation when he needs it n cheering him on. you’re always the one that fixes him up whenever he gets the short end of the stick and shows up broken n battered at your door. you’re his sweet girl, the one constant in his life that doesn’t change. you’re the one that reminds him to eat n sleep on days where he’s running on pure adrenaline. you’re the one that takes such good care of emi when he’s out fighting kaiju as ultraman, the one that always ends up snuggled next to her n fast asleep by the time kenji finally comes home. you’re the one that cooks for him n makes him sweet treats to share with his team. you’re the one that he always comes back to. the one he thanks by dragging his cock through your sticky folds. the one he kisses so softly when he’s brutalising your cunt. you’re the one he takes his frustrations out on, the one who let’s him use your mouth before his games. you’re the one that he fucks at the end of the night, fingers wrapped around your pretty neck while he grunts out how much he needs you, how badly he needs to fill you up so that everyone knows you’re his.

[chimckenns]

The worst thing is people leaving you after you finally open yourself up, thinking that you’re too much.

So Darlin’ shuts themself down and distances themself from everyone.

This way they’ll never be a burden.

This way they can never be “too much”.

This way they can’t hurt anyone, and no one can hurt them.

They’re used to solitude.

“If you come closer, I’ll hurt you.”

They’ll be alone anyway.

“Don’t test me.”

No one would ever want them.

“Stay away.”

Please don’t leave me too.

They ran away from the pack when the Quinn thing happened. They’d rather deal with it alone. It’ll be too much if they asked for help, and the pack would hate them for it.

They’re too much.

Then Sam appeared in their life like a firework - beautiful and mesmerising. It was fun being with him. They felt like themself. They actually liked his company quite a lot. Maybe too much.

But then the feeling vanished as quickly as it came, and they retreated back into their mind.

They should have kept their distance.

They’re getting too attached.

He’s gonna think they’re too much.

Fuck.

But they couldn’t bring themself to remove their head from his chest as they listened to his steady heartbeat. His body enveloping theirs in a kind of warmth they never even knew existed.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow they’ll leave.

But today, they’ll allow themselves one more day in his company.

Just for today.

[puckinghischier]

celebrations with luke though after the game. like i don't even care even just cuddles i feel like he'd be so happy especially if you were there to witness the goal, he'd have looked for you in the stands to see you cheering and he'd just be so happy. ugh.

you’d rush out of there as fast as you could, already on the phone ordering all kinds of snacks and goodies to surprise him with after the game. you’d know you have a little extra time, considering he’d be held up with media for a good while after they hit the locker room.

you’re stopping by several stores on the way back to your apartment. bakeries, grocery stores, restaurants, and even a little party store for silly hats and confetti poppers. you text jack to make sure luke is distracted and unable to leave until you send him a green light text, not wanting him to walk in on the middle of you arranging his celebration.

you let jack know you were almost ready, putting the final touches on the junk food spread. you have just enough time to throw a red party hat on your head and grab a confetti popper before you hear the door opening, ready to celebrate his goal and their win.

the second he rounds the corner into the kitchen, you pull the string on the popper and watch his small jump backwards, red confetti falling all over his damp curls.

“surprise!!! congratulations lukey!!!” you exclaim, running towards him and slamming your small frame into his large one. he laughs at your enthusiasm, hugging you back just as tightly, picking you up just enough that your feet aren’t touching the floor before sitting you back down.

you pull back, looking up at him with a proud, toothy grin. he returns your lovey look, smiling just as wide as he looks down at you. “proud of you, lucas,” you tell him, using the full name that isn’t really his own, simply because you know it irks him. he rolls his eyes at the name, but his smile never falters.

“thanks, you big dork,” he responds, flicking the paper hat on your head, his cheeks only slightly red from all the attention you’re giving him. he moves his face down to give you a short, but sweet, kiss.

the second his lips detach from yours, you step back from him, preventing yourself from getting too distracted and lost in his kisses. “so, let me show you tonight’s gourmet meal,” you grab his hand, leading him to the island that’s covered in every single one of his favorite treats.

you have cookies from his favorite bakery, brownies from his favorite cafe, several pizzas from his favorite pizza place, all of his favorite kinds of chips and snacks, and in the freezer you have a carton of every single ice cream flavor he likes. it looks like a kids birthday party gone wild, but you didn’t care. he scored his first goal of the season tonight. he deserves junk food and tacky hats.

“oh my god, coach is gonna kill me if he finds out this is what i ate after a game,” were the first words out of his mouth, eyes taking in all the greasy food and sugary treats.

“well, he can get over it. you deserve it tonight. i went through all this trouble to get your favorites, so just indulge me and eat them, yeah?” you scold him slightly as you take the cone-shaped hat off of your head, not caring about what the coach or team nutritionist has to say about it. it’s not like he won’t have a chance to work it all off in the next couple of days anyways.

you hand him a plate and watch him load it up with as much food as it can hold, making his way over to the couch where you have his favorite movie queued up and ready to play.

“the secretariat? oh you really do know how to make a guy feel special, huh?” he half jokes, a hint of genuine excitement in his voice.

you join him on the couch and shush him while you press play, your own plate of treats sat in front of you. the two of you snack and watch, eventually finding your way on top of him to lay on his chest as he lays on his back, head turned just enough to still see the tv. his hand drags lazily up and down your back as yours traces light shapes on his clothed pectoral muscle.

the two of you had been quiet for some time, enjoying each others company and watching the movie, but luke’s voice breaks the marathon of silence.

“you know, m’glad you were there to see it. felt nice being able to look up and see you cheering for me after i scored,” he tells you, not taking his eyes off of the tv screen.

“of course i was cheering for you. are you crazy? i’ve been planning this for weeks, just waiting for the moment to finally happen. you’ve been trying so hard to get your first goal, everyone could see it,” you move to rest your chin on his chest, loving the relaxed look on his face. “but i’m glad i could be there, too. was so scared you were gonna score on the road and i was gonna miss it. well, miss it in person anyways. i’m always watching.”

he turns to look at you, not being able to keep his lips from stretching into another smile. it’s a common occurrence, he realizes. he can hardly look at you without smiling anymore, always filled with so much love and adoration for you he doesn’t know what else to do.

“know you are. can feel it every night,” he reaches up, brushing a strand of hair out of your face, letting his hand linger on the ends of it, twirling it around his fingers.

“i am super proud of you, y’know that, right? not saying it just because. i meant it when i said everyone can see how hard you’ve been trying, and it’s a well deserved goal,” you tell him again, never missing a chance to let him know just how proud of him you really are.

he legitimately blushes this time, always being one to shy away from praise. you reach a hand up to tap the tip of his nose, smiling when he scrunches it and turns his head in protest. “stop booping my nose, you’re gonna ruin my reputation one of these days,” he swats your hand away, dropping the strand of hair.

“luke…what reputation? everyone knows you’re a big softie,” you deadpan, causing a pout to form on his lips. “plus, there’s no one here except me and you right now.”

“i’m supposed to be a big scary hockey player, i can’t have my girlfriend booping my nose all the time,” he argues, whining through his pout.

“aww, baby,” you fake sympathy, “you are a big scary hockey player, don’t worry. you showed that net and that goalie who was boss tonight.” you reach up to pat his cheek.

he huffs, not appreciating the little laugh you let out after your sentence.

you stop your chuckles, easing yourself back into the previous conversation. “i’m just kidding. but really, luke, i’m proud of you. and so is jack. glad he was the one who got the assist and you could experience this with him,” you tell him earnestly, loving the moment the brothers shared on the ice after the goal. “your whole team is proud of you, too. you’ve been playing so well lately. you deserve to be celebrated every night, but especially tonight.”

he leans in for another kiss, ignoring the awkward angle of his neck, bringing his hands down to push you up his body by your ass, bringing your face closer to his. the kiss is soft and slow, no rush, just raw emotions conveyed through it.

once the two of you pull back to catch your breath, you rest your forehead against his.

“proud to have you by my side through all this too, you know? couldn’t do it without you,” luke whispers into the small space between your lips. “mean it. you do so much for me, and i wouldn’t want to come home to anyone else tonight. or any night. you’re more than my good luck charm, y/n, you’re my rock. my calm in a storm. my steady hands on a sloppy goal attempt,” his words cause your own blush to paint your cheeks. “just glad i landed this shot, most of all. don’t know where i’d be if i hadn’t.”

you can feel the tears prick at your eyes, not wanting to be a blubbering mess on what’s supposed to be his night.

“alright you big sap, this is your night, you can’t make me cry before we even get eat all the ice cream i bought,” you sniffle, bringing a hand up to dab at the corners of your eyes with a wet laugh.

luke’s eyes widen, face suddenly brighter than it had been all night. “wait, you bought ice cream!?” is all you hear as you’re being lifted off his chest and dropped onto the couch while he slips out from under you, rushing to the the freezer, your sentimental moment long forgotten at the promise of a frozen treat.

[bunnyscryptarchived]

“a devouring hunger, a complete, violent passion, like a storm.”

pairing. college au - jason todd x reader

based loosely off the scene from may (2002). disclaimer: this story is based in a separate universe to my upcoming self indulgent college au!jason todd universe.

♱ synopsis: . jason todd is a transfer student. he's tall, he’s big, and he has gorgeous hands. he hangs with the football crowd despite not playing the sport himself, you keep your distance however. he’s infatuated with you though. you find him…. intriguing. 


♱ cw: reader is very gothic and black girl coded but no descriptors (anyone can read), fluff, college!au, smut ♡


you were the one that told jason it was best that you stayed away from each other. you just didn’t trust him, not with the crowd he hung around, but he seemed sweet and sincere - sad eyes that bore in to yours as you turned him down. almost feeling bad until the eyes of his friends watching made you walk up away leaving him looking dejected. oh well.

you’d still sneak glances at him every now and then. admiring the outline of his profile, the hook of his nose. the flex of his arms at the slightest movements. oh and his hands - the thought of them sending your brain in to a tizzy. you’d wonder how they’d feel against your skin.

jason was upfront with his fixation on you. long glances, not caring if he got caught. asking around about you, ignoring all the warnings from his friends about how weird you are. taking any chance to talk to and be near you.

it’s what put him on your radar and made you suspicious, but you will admit he is handsome and he was always so sweet with you. 

better to be safe than sorry though. 

the library smells like cinnamon, wood, marijuana, and hand sanitizer

you sat in a love seat, reading as you listened to the sound of pages turning and pens writing, eyes occasionally darting towards the sleeping boy sitting at the table across the isle. head on his arm as his hand hangs in the air. you try to focus on your book, but again you glance back up at jason’s hand.

it just looks so inviting.

chewing on your bottom lip, contemplating.

your body shakes as you slowly get up, dropping your book on the seat. moving towards him with anxious breath. eyes wide, like a predator hunting its prey.

kneeling besides him, your eyes dart over his large frame, stopping at his hand as you observe it in fascination. your own itching to hold his. one more look at his face- he breathes slowly, soft snores leaving his lips.

inching your head closer to his hand, you lift his fingers with your cheek. oh his skin is so soft. his stillness, gives you the courage to keep going. unaware of the audience that watches you.

eyes fluttering shut as you press your cheek further into his palm- feelings of peace and comfort filling you. his hand cups your cheek. a perfect fit. letting out a sigh of content, you feel his fingers twitch.

pause.

“hello?”

your eyes dart open, he starts to lift his head and you back away. standing up quick, not daring to move any further. jason rubs his eyes with a sniff before seeing you in front of him like a frightened deer.

before he can say anything! you swiftly walk away, almost tripping in the process while jason watches with confused and concerned eyes, following as you leave.

“i told you she was a freak, man.” his friend appears by his side, shoving his phone into his face to show him the footage of your actions.

his head darts back to where you once stood, thumb subconsciously rubbing his now warm palm.

night falls and you're laying in bed — ignoring the movie playing on your laptop as you think about jasons hand. your fingers grazing where his was.

reminiscing on his past interactions with you. the lingering looks and soft touches. kind smiles and rambling words even if you never said anything back and when you did it was in a blunt and flat tone. he just enjoyed your presence.

you come to the realization that you liked it. you liked him. you liked holding his attention and you desire him carnally.

a knock on the door pulls you out of your thoughts — thinking its just your roommate who forgot her key.

jason greets you at the door, donning a band muscle tee that makes his arms look good.

“hey.”

“what are you doing here?”

“can we talk?”

sitting on the edge of your bed side by side— the silence is comfortable. to you that is. jason doesn't know where to start, his brain going a mile a minute trying to figure out where to start but to his surprise you beat him to it.

“you think im weird.”

it wasn't a question and he glances at you to see you're already looking at him. his gaze is a soft one as he looks in to your intense yet curious one.

“no, i know you're weird.” a small smile graces his lips. your eyes flicking down to his hands.

his elbow bumps yours, “but hey, so what i like weird.”

you meet his gaze again, his going from your eyes to your lips.

“i really want to kiss you.” his voice dropped into a whipser.

“is that all you want to do?” your question makes his eyebrows raise, mouth opening a bit.

grabbing his hand, you place kisses along his thumb to his wrist as you place it on your cheek, eyes never leaving his.

thats how jason wound up on his back, staring into your eyes as you rolled your hips. grunts and moans leaving his plump lips.

jason todd was a loud lover.

sloppily sucking on his fingers while he used his free hand to knead and grip at your tits and hip.

"so good. you feel so good around me - im gonna make you all mine." jasons brows furrow, watching the spit trail down your chin and his wrist.

he shudders as you gyrate your hips faster, “r-right after i take you on a real date.”

he moans loudly, bucking his hips up into you. your clit grinding against his happy trail. breathless moans escape past your lips.

"'m yours, jay.” you whimper, your sticky walls throbbing around him.

"oh my god" he groans. reaching behind your neck to pull you down against him to fuck you harder. hips slamming into you with desperation.

you pant like a puppy, biting into his shoulder hard enough to make him hiss. the bed knocking against the headboard as he pummeled against your g-spot.

"m'cumming!”

he keeps the pace as you cum with a load groan- body trembling on top of his as he pulls out to jerk against your ass.

catching your breath, you pick your head up to stare at his face — eyes closed with droplets of sweat on his forehead, licking his lip as he regains his composure. he's so pretty.

you trace your finger over nose to his lips making him open his eyes. “hi gorgeous," a smile tugs at his lips.

"you okay?" his fingers tenderly graze your cheek.

"mhm" you pause as you take in his gestures. the softness in his eyes. "can we go on our real date tomorrow?”

he smirks, letting out a low chuckle. "yeah, that's perfect for me”

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Get Souped!

[tommykinardbuckley]

Evan Buckley is many things.

He's a brother, a son, a damn good firefighter, he's a friend and a guardian. Evan Buckley has had the weight of the world on his shoulders. He's been crushed by a fire truck and struck by lightning.

He's had his life flash by his eyes a million times and played with by the whims of fate.

Evan Buckley is many things.

He's desperate for approval from everyone around him. He's impatient, calm, and cautious. He's reckless with his life if it means someone else gets to live. He sometimes gets lost in Wikipedia deep dives and trivia nights.

Evan Buckley is many things.

He's incredibly smart, fast, and intense in the best and worst ways a person can be, but that only adds to his charm. It's his charm that opens and closes doors for him. He's gone too far and gotten stuck because of it. 

Evan Buckley has been a lot of things.

A sex addict. A recovering sex addict. He's slept with more people than he can remember. He has shared his bed and other people's beds. He's a searcher, always trying to find a meaning to an endless sea of questions he doesn't have answers for.

Evan Buckley has been a lot of things, but one:

Chosen.

Until one fateful night of storms and lightning. Of a man with broad shoulders and a killer smile. He has a cleft! And that flight suit that hugged him in all the right places. Evan Buckley was a gone man that night, a reborn man. 

Tommy Kinard is a lot of things.

He's a pilot and a firefighter. He's a man of movement, Muay Thai, and fast cars. Of knowing that he's the only one he can rely on. 

Tommy Kinard is a lot of things.

He hides his trauma with endless nights in the sky. The clouds and the stars offer him company while he slowly regrets many of his life choices. The small confines of the cockpit offer him protection from the brittle edges of the memories of a broken home and a fragile childhood.

Tommy Kinard is a lot of things.

He's friendly and smooth. He can swoop people off their feet and make them touch heaven in a night. He has the touch of a feather and the heaviness of all-consuming comfort. The rough exterior is nothing more than a carefully constructed front to protect himself from ever having to experience the heart-wrenching vulnerability of his younger years. 

Tommy Kinard has been a lot of things.

A man lost for many years to the circumstances and bigotry. A reformed man. A proud man who found his purpose in a world that is still filled to the brim with the people he tries hard not to be like anymore.

Tommy Kinard has been a lot of things, but one:

Chosen. 

Until one fateful night of stealing a helicopter and flying it into a hurricane. A night of a cruise ship rescue and the brightest blue eyes he'd ever seen in his life. Of a smile so blinding, Tommy felt his heart skip a beat, and maybe it could finally mean something more than the failed beginnings he'd been used to. Tommy Kinard was a gone man that night, a reborn man. 

Because from the moment Tommy and Evan meet, the weight they’ve been carrying gets lighter. 

Because suddenly they can breathe a little easier, a little more freely. 

Because they never knew that three words could mean the whole universe to them.

Because finally saying 'I love you' makes all the sense in the world.

Tommy has never understood his life until it’s as vibrant as the rainbow of colors that dance across his mind when he’s being kissed with such fervor and abandon. Or until the warm rays of sun filter through the half-opened curtains and kiss the golden body writhing underneath him. It’s perfect. Tommy can feel calm washing over him in waves of yellows and oranges of the almost religious devotion of Evan's pleas.

But the road to happiness hasn't always been easy. It's been met with resistance and uncertainty. They’ve had to crash and burn and make so many mistakes that Evan honestly thought could never be undone. He’s felt like splitting into a million tiny pieces, like a loose end on a vicious cycle of time. 

It’s in how Tommy wasn’t supposed to find love. “Love” wasn’t something that happened to people like him. So Tommy would push and pull apart when things got too raw between him and Evan. 

He’s hurt Evan. 

He’s broken them. 

Evan has done the same. 

Their story has a before and after.

And when Evan thinks about their before his world turns every shade of black and gray. The ribbons of pain hug his body and cloud his thoughts. Because remembering the ways they’ve hurt makes everything fade to black. 

He thinks of words that need to remain unspoken. 

He thinks of tears and sleepless nights baking until he was so exhausted his body screamed for rest. 

Tommy sees the reds he’s bathed in when Evan told him after a night of exes that he didn’t have to have feelings for everyone he slept with.

He feels the lush greens of jealousy when he thought Evan had feelings for his best friend and everything felt like a dream. 

They have not always been at their best, for so long it seems they were waging a war with each other, with themselves, and it’s taken patience and distance for them to come out on the other side anew. For them to discover the pure bliss of peace, to wave that white flag in surrender. 

But through it all, they’ve learned. Together they have learned the art of being compassionate with each other, and with themselves. They’ve learned to pick themselves up, and keep going. Because no matter how bad or how sad or how horrible their day or their week has been, there’s always a flicker of hope, a ray of light shining through the darkness. 

At the end of everything Evan and Tommy have been many things.

At the end of everything Evan and Tommy are many things, but most importantly:

They are each other’s choice.

[shoot-i-messed-up]

Was always worried about the angst of unrequited love, had never realized the sheer amount of comedic potential that it has.

Imagine one-sided Superbat where Clark is fully aware that Bruce has a crush on him but is being his repressed self about it, and Clark is just like, “I’m not gonna touch that :) you’re going to figure that out for yourself, buddy, and in the meantime, I’m just going to have a good time and be best friends with you as you inevitably pull yourself together enough to either fall out of love or to confess :) and I’ll just let you down gently because I care about you :)” but he absolutely 100% is using it to his advantage in the meantime. His puppy dog eyes had never been so effective before. He’s gotten out of Monitor Duty three times in the past month.

[purerae]

What if the reader was high/drunk and when she’s high/drunk she’s the sweetest and very loving. How would Kieran react? Would he be all lovey with her?

╭────༺♡༻────╮

YANDERE!PLAYBOY X FEM!READER.

DRUNK IN SWEETNESS // ONESHOT.

warnings ;; yandere behaviour, possessive behaviour , fluff, obsession, lying (??), jealousy etc, slight angst (if you squint)

click here for the masterlist!

╰────༺♡༻────╯

Kieran walks into the party that he was dreading going to. Because he gave up hooking up with girls, going to parties was too boring for him. He can’t get drunk because he has a very high tolerance and the conversations he has with his so-called ‘friends’ makes him want to feel pain so he can shoot himself five times in the head.

The white-haired male would much rather talk with you, feel you, and joke around with you. Too bad, every time he asks for your number you mutter out a sarcastic response and switch the topic.

It’s not his fault he wants to speak with you at all times! I mean…He could just sneak into your house and watch you from there. But he isn’t going to do that of course! He’s not a fucking creep.

As he walks deeper into the house party, alcohol is pushed against his nose as his past hookups wink at him, the ones who want to be his new girl attempt to walk up to him but he just gives them a wink and pushes past them. If he got a coin for the number of people who dabbed him up and knew his name while he didn’t know theirs, He’d probably be twice as rich as he is now.

The playboy (or ‘former’ playboy) gets pulled into a conversation with the football jocks as they speak about the next game, who they’re going to go for and just basic stuff etc. Kieran makes a joke here and there and he can’t tell if they’re laughing at it because it was legitimately funny or if they’re laughing because they want to get on his good side.

With you, he never had to think that. He knows that you laugh if something is actually funny and God, it makes him feel so proud when he’s the one who gets the laugh out of you.

Speaking of you…His eyes glance away from the group for a split second and the same eyes widen at the scene in front of him. It was you. Dressed up for a party he would never imagine you would go to and hell, you looked fine as fuck. But there was no way you would go to this shitty party! Who would even invite you? The jocks?? No, no it couldn’t have been. Could it?

Maybe he’s just too obsessed with you that he’s imagining you there. He quickly disregards the conversation and walks up to the couch he’s supposedly imagining you on. But there you were, In the flesh. He gives you an infamous smirk before smoothly saying

“Woah, didn’t kn—“ “Oh, my god!! Kieran! Helloooo!!” You grin at him before jumping up from your seat, almost stumbling to the ground and give him a big hug before giggling. “Fancy seeing you here~!”

Kieran remained still for what felt like hours but was actually around 5 seconds. Why were you happy to see him? Why are you hugging him??? “…Haha hey now— What’s gotten’ into you princess?”

This was one of the first times he was almost speechless. Normally you reject his advances constantly. Even if he put an arm around your shoulder, you would give him a sharp glare and push him off. But now…You’re hugging him?!

Unfortunately for him, you let go of the blissful hug before looking up at him and pouting with wide glassy eyes.

“Are you not happy to see me…I’m r-really happy to see you, Kieran!” You sniff and flop back onto the couch. Glaring at him with narrowed eyes and a pout on your cherished lips.

The blue-eyed male recovers from his shocked flustered stare before realising…bottles everywhere, your eyes were struggling to stay open, emotions off the rail. You were obviously drunk! Your personality seemed more intimate too. He could use this to his advantage. Kieran quickly sits down next to you and holds onto your arm.

“Of course, I'm happy to see you, cutie! I'm always happy to see your pretty little face~” He flirts back at you, wondering how the drunk version of you would respond.

You lean into his touch and smile. “I knew you’d be happy to see me..!!” you look at his face and then his shirt before placing a hand against it. “Woah— your shirt suits you so much, Kier! You should wear blue more often” You compliment him with a wide smile and your eyes closed.

Kieran looks at your flushed face. In his heart, he knows it’s because of the alcohol but ignorance is bliss so he’ll pretend it was because of him. His face matched yours despite not drinking anything. The new nickname and the compliment which you never give him, gives him electrical pangs in his heart.

He looks down at you with a widened smile and you’re so close to him, he just wants to kiss your red plumped lips but decided against it. He wanted you to be sober when you guys kissed. He wants you to remember his lips on yours.

“Jesus, how much did you drink princess?” He mutters to himself, intending for you not to hear but since you guys are only 8 cm away from each other, you hear him loud and clear.

With a big frown, you say “I'm not drunk…at all… barely even dranked…drunk..drank?” you slur your words out and struggle to keep your head up before giving up and placing it on his chest.

To people surrounding you guys, it looks as though you’re his millionth girlfriend and he’s just flirting with you. But Kieran doesn’t care what people think. The male turns you around and lets you lean on his chest with a content smile, he wraps his hands around your shoulders.

“Hm? I believe you babe~ you’re not drunk at all, yeah?” He says with a humming tune in his voice.

You let out a “Mhm!” noise and you guys stay like that for a while. Kieran is flirting with you and instead of your sarcastic responses, you giggle and laugh while acting all sweet to him too. He knows if you were sober right now and saw how you were acting with him, saw the very public display of affection, You’d vomit all over the place and never speak with him again.

But he was always good at keeping secrets.

Your sweet conversation got cut off by one of Kieran’s ‘friends’ who walks up to you both with a drink in hand before laughing.

“Yoo, this your new bitch? She’s hot as fuck, where’d ya’ get her?” He yells out, obviously drunk and high and everything in between.

Kieran’s smirk turns into an angered look. Something no one has ever seen before. His eyes darken as he hears the cunt refer to the love of his life as a ‘bitch’…as well as complimenting her too! No one deserves to compliment what's his. He should be the one to call you hot, not some guy who doesnt even know your name.

He snarls out “She’s my girlfriend you freak, Say shit like that one more time and I’ll knock you the fuck out. Got it?” He places his signature smirk back on but his eyes remain the same.

The poor guy has never seen Kieran act like this before. This was a look he never wanted to see ever again. He responds meekly with a “m-my bad bro” Before scurrying off like a lost little sheep.

Kieran’s smirk drops once again as he holds you even tighter in his grasp. His fingers dig into your skin as you yelp in pain.

“Ow!”

His touch loosens. “Sorry princess, just close your eyes again for’ me, okay?” He looks down at you and sees your tilted head staring at him with a confused and worrying stare. He raises his eyebrow before you softly explain

“I’m…your girlfriend?” Kieran laughs and nods his head confidently.

“Of course! Did my cute girl drink so much that she almost forgot?~” He pecks your nose before leaning back onto the armrest and closing his eyes, his arms still resting against your body.

You make a noise of confusion before accepting the fact that you’re his ‘girlfriend’ and get comfortable against him again.

“Ah…Sorry!” You giggle out. and hold onto his arms.

Kieran knows this is wrong. He knows that if you knew he did this, you'd hate him forever. But he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help the domestic feeling of being a boyfriend. Your boyfriend.

Although he loves your snarky responses, He could definitely get used to the sweet side of you. Just one more hour of this. Please.

purerae<3

[mega-banette]

Now I 100% could be misreading this but I do love that it’s sort of implied that both Fox and Ajax accepted Mercy as a warrior despite not being present when she was officially initiated

[ID 1: ‘Mercy and Ajax make eye contact as they fight’]

[ID 2: ‘Fox Turns to Mercy’ FOX: …GET THEM HOME ALIVE MERCY: FOX?]

[skyward-floored]

For the incredibles au fic requests (I think you’re still doing those? Unless I’m an idiot and can’t read 😭) could you do Legend being sick? <:3

I’m incapable of keeping fics short when they’re sickfics so here’s over 2k of Legend being sick <3 I hope you enjoy plink (and that if you’re still feeling sick you feel better! 💖)

————————————————————

Malon woke up feeling that something was wrong.

She opened her eyes into the darkness of her bedroom, lit only by a thin shaft of moonlight, and simply laid there for a moment, listening to Time breathe beside her.

No noise had woken her up, as far as she could tell. The street outside was silent, Time was deeply asleep beside her, for once, and she didn’t feel in danger or anything like that.

Something just... didn’t feel right.

Malon waited to see if it would fade, wondering if it was just leftover feelings from a forgotten dream, but the niggling feeling refused to abate. If anything, it got stronger.

Finally it got to be too much, and Malon slipped out of bed, pulling on her bathrobe and creeping out of her bedroom and down the hall to where her kids slept.

She checked on the younger three first, Four, Wind, and Hyrule all appearing okay. Wind had crawled into Four’s bed, the two of them snuggled together, and Hyrule’s face was peaceful where he was sleeping under his own blankets. They all seemed content, and Malon simply adjusted a few blankets before leaving them be.

The older boys’ room was next, and Malon was glad she’d put on her slippers as she crept inside, hoping they would be enough not to wake Twilight. He was fast asleep when she checked on him though, and Wild was as well, shockingly enough.

Something still felt wrong though, so Malon quietly climbed the ladder to the top bunk where Legend slept to check on him as well. She peered over the side, and frowned at the sight that met her.

Legend’s face was deeply creased, his blankets partially thrown off, the rest twisted around him. A faint sheen of sweat shone on his face, and Malon quickly put a hand to his forehead, her worry spiking.

Legend was absolutely burning up.

“Legend, honey, are you awake?” Malon whispered as she ran a hand along his cheek. A low moan came from him, Legend turning into her hand, and the wrong feeling she’d had ever since she’d been woken up suddenly sharpened. “Link, I think you need to wake up.”

He mumbled something, but finally his eyes cracked open, the blue unusually bright.

“Mom..?” Legend mumbled dizzily, and Malon ran a soothing hand over his forehead.

“It’s okay, hon. I think you’re sick. I’m going to take your temperature, all right?” she said, and Legend merely gave her a bleary hum in response.

Malon quickly slid back down the ladder, and went to the bathroom to grab their thermometer. It took her a minute to find it, but when she finally returned, Legend hadn’t moved an inch.

The small glass device went under Legend’s tongue, and Malon ran her hand through his sweaty hair while she waited for it to register. Legend remained almost completely still while the thermometer sat in his mouth, his eyes half-lidded while Malon watched him, and she tried her best not worry.

Legend had been a little sniffly when he’d gone to bed, but it hadn’t been anything worrying then. And now he had a fever...

Malon sighed, and rubbed her eyes. Why did kids always have to get sick in the middle of the night?

Those few minutes while the thermometer worked seemed to last forever, Legend staying still except for a few shivers, Malon gently petting his head. But finally the time was up, and Malon pulled the thermometer out to check the red line.

And stared, her blood going cold.

104.

That can’t be right.

Malon held the little red line closer to the window, hoping she’d read it wrong, but it was the same as the first time she’d read it, the measurement unmistakable.

Legend had a fever of 104.

Malon swallowed, then ran her hand over Legend’s forehead again, wiping some of the sweat away.

“I’ll be right back honey, sit tight,” she whispered, and Legend didn’t even reply this time, merely closing his eyes.

Malon tried to be quiet as she hurried down the hallway, going back to her own bedroom and giving Time a gentle but firm shake.

“Link,” she whispered, then leaned back to avoid the split-second of alarm that always showed itself when her husband was woken up.

“Malon?” he asked once his eye focused, and she bit her lip at his sleepy voice, wondering if she’d really needed to wake him. Then she remembered Legend, how horrible he’d looked and how red the thermometer had been, and she exhaled.

“Legend has a fever.”

“...Really?” Time asked, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

“Yes. I woke up and felt like something was wrong, so I checked on all the boys, and Legend... the thermometer registered him at 104.”

“That’s not good,” Time murmured, moving to get out of bed. Then he blanched, and stared at her. “A hundred and four?”

“That’s what it said, I... should we take him to the hospital?” Malon asked, and Time put a hand to his chin, face deeply creased.

Hospitals always got messy when their family was involved, too many probing questions and exams, not enough protection. And if Legend wasn’t thinking straight, then he might not even think to hide his powers, which would be disastrous in more than one way.

But between that, and letting a high fever get even worse...

“...Only if it gets any higher,” Time murmured finally. “We can watch him for a bit first, see if we can lower it at all. Then we... we’ll see.”

“Okay,” Malon agreed quietly, and Time gave her hand a tight squeeze.

They headed back to the older boys’s room and up to Legend’s bed, Malon letting Time climb up this time, since the ladder was too small for the both of them. Time felt Legend’s forehead, their son watching him dizzily, and Time breathed out as he felt the heat Malon was so worried about.

“How are you feeling, Legend?” Time asked softly, and Legend slowly blinked, only appearing half-conscious.

“Hot... c-cold? M’ head... hurts,” he murmured, and Time ran a hand over his head.

“Okay. I think we’re going to put you somewhere else so we can reach you better,” Time said, Malon nodding when he looked back at her. “Can you climb down?”

Legend stared at him, and a shiver wracked his body.

“I ca... can’t,” he said dizzily, not moving. Some sweat beaded on his face, and Legend squeezed his eyes shut, voice upset. “I can’t. It’s too d... dizzy. M-my head, ‘s spinny.”

“Okay. You don’t have to climb down yourself, you just have to scoot over here a little so I can help you,” Time encouraged, and Legend’s lip wobbled.

“I can’t. I can’t, I-I’ll fall,” he stuttered, a tear slipping down his cheek. “I don’t...”

Malon saw Time’s face further crease as Legend sniffled, and the room got a little brighter as her husband drew on his powers, leaning over and tugging Legend closer to the edge. Legend didn’t resist, and Time scooped him into his arms.

He lifted him out of his bed, carefully stepping down the ladder as he did so, and Legend buried his face in Time’s shoulder with a soft whine. Malon exchanged looks with Time, and he held Legend a little tighter to his chest.

“Let’s get you settled on the couch, bun,” Time said softly.

Legend only shivered.

Malon grabbed the only blanket of Legend’s that didn’t seem soaked in sweat, and followed Time out of the room and downstairs, putting the couch into order for Legend to sleep on. Legend stayed silent where he was clinging to Time, only letting out the occasional soft moan, and barely reacted when Time set him down, face creased with pain.

Time left to go see what medicine they had, and Malon fixed up a damp cloth, setting it over Legend’s forehead with a thick swallow.

She’d dealt with fevers plenty over the years; kids were germ magnets after all, and she had six of them. But none of her sons had ever registered such a high fever before, and her worry felt like a ball of ice in her stomach.

104 was dangerous, or right on the verge of it at least. If Legend got any warmer they would truly have no choice but to take him to the hospital. Which Malon and Time would both do without hesitation if the need arose, but both of them were hoping desperately it wouldn’t get that bad.

Legend moaned again, and Malon squeezed his hand, rubbing her thumb over his palm.

“It’s all right, honey,” she soothed, and his eyes flickered as she knelt beside him.

“M-Mama..?” he whispered. “I... I feel really... bad.”

“I know. Try and rest, honey. It’ll be alright,” she murmured, sweeping his bangs from his face. “We’ll have some medicine for you in a second.”

Legend only groaned, closing his eyes again.

A creak came from the other side of the room, and Malon turned around to see Twilight peering around the corner, his eyes shining just a little. Obviously despite their efforts, they hadn’t succeeded in keeping him asleep through all of their noise.

“Mom?” Twilight whispered as he crept to her side, looking down at Legend, “what’s wrong?”

“It’s okay, Twilight. Legend is sick, we just moved him out here so we could reach him a bit better,” she reassured.

“...How sick?”

Malon swallowed. “He’s got a fever. But he’ll be all right. It’s okay.”

104.

Malon exhaled, and refused to think further about it. Worrying would do no good.

Twilight’s eyes glimmered a little in the lamplight as he looked at Legend, his gaze flickering to the thermometer on the table. “Can I stay up with him?”

“I... suppose so,” Malon sighed, knowing Twilight wouldn’t sleep even if they sent him back to bed. “Just make sure you let him rest.”

Twilight nodded, then sat himself down at Legend’s side, watching him in silence.

Time came back with a pill bottle in hand, and they gave Legend the medicine, hoping it would kick in quickly and help lower his fever. Malon and Time consulted, and they decided to check Legend’s temperature every half hour, or fifteen minutes if it seemed to be getting worse. They’d watch it as closely as possible.

Twilight stayed silent beside Legend through most of their discussion, and though they hadn’t told him, Malon knew he’d caught on to the seriousness of the situation.

He didn’t say anything about it though. Just kept watch over his little brother, curled into a ball, shivering and pale.

The night dragged on, dark and slow. Legend went between being extremely restless, moaning and pressing his face into the pillows, and staying eerily still, so quiet that Malon couldn’t help but keep a hand near his chest to be sure he was still breathing.

The temperature checks went on, every half hour, Time keeping track. Malon dozed off for two of them, and startled awake in a mild panic when she realized, but Time and Twilight had handled them. And when she asked if there was any change, they both shook their heads.

Still 104.

So it went the rest of the night. Checking Legend’s temperature, making sure he drank water. Calming him down when the fever gripped him, and he became strangely emotional. Malon trying not to fret herself to pieces.

104.

104.

No change.

...

The first rays of dawn roused Malon from the doze she’d fallen into.

She blinked sleepily, looking around the room. Time was sitting quietly beside her, awake as ever (she never understood how he could stay up so long), and Twilight was curled up on the floor in wolf form, softly snoring.

Malon yawned, and Time squeezed her hand as she grabbed the thermometer, letting her get up and do her check. Legend had fallen into a somewhat deeper sleep, face shiny with sweat, and Malon kissed his forehead as she tucked the thermometer in his mouth yet again.

“He’s out?” Time whispered, joining her side, and Malon nodded.

“Like a light. He needs it,” she murmured, fixing the cloth over his forehead. Malon was unable to stop her yawn as she finished speaking, and Time gave her hand another squeeze.

She looked at him, worry still bright in his eyes, shadows lining the skin underneath, knowing she looked much the same. The silence stretched, both of them just looking at each other, and somehow Time knew she needed it when he pulled her into his arms, giving her a quick hug.

“I’ll go make some coffee,” he offered softly, and Malon nearly started crying on the spot for some reason.

“Thanks honey,” she said in a mostly not-shaky voice, and Time kissed her before going to the kitchen.

Malon took a deep breath, calming herself down while she waited for the thermometer to finish its work. Time clattered softly in the kitchen, and Malon pulled the glass instrument out, prepared to see the same 104 it had been reading all night.

Then she stopped, and looked at it closer, her heart speeding up.

102.

Her hand shook as she held it up to the light, just to be sure she wasn’t imagining it, but sure enough, it still read the same 102.

Legend’s fever was finally going down.

Malon exhaled, leaning her head back against the armrest of the couch, a couple tears pricking at her eyes.

They weren’t out of the woods yet, but it was a start. A fever of 102 wasn’t anything to scoff at, but so long as it kept going down... they wouldn’t have to take Legend to the hospital. He was out of the danger zone.

He’d be all right.

“...Mom?”

Malon raised her head, and saw Legend looking at her, eyes still bright with fever, expression bleary.

“‘r... you okay?” he murmured, and Malon nodded, kissing his cheek.

“I’m fine, honey. You just focus on feeling better.”

“‘kay,” Legend sighed, and his eyes slipped closed again.

Malon took his hand in hers as he drifted back off, and Twilight rolled over in his sleep, ending up pressed against her side. She used her other hand to lightly pet Twilight’s head, and he let out a contented growl in his sleep.

Time came back a few minutes later to find Malon smiling brightly, and the relief on his face when she showed him the thermometer was worth its weight in gold. He sat himself down next to her, and Malon quickly dozed off on his shoulder, Twilight still snuggled at her side, Legend’s hand tight in hers.

Time watched all three of them in silence, content to keep an eye on things while they slept.

[obibail]

my favorite personal headcanon is that most Tevinter citizens don’t actually speak Trade tongue as a main language, or if they do it’s strictly a public language and not a home language. instead the non-Altus citizenry (esp. grunt military/lower class civilian Soporati, Liberati, and new Laetan) especially in Minrathous and other large cities with trade connections to countries outside Tevinter and/or a history of Qunari occupation speak something closer to Romanian in the home/among themselves

the language still has obvious Tevene/Latin-vaguely Greek roots and is very much a modern/less formal evolution of Tevene but it's got a fair bit of Antivan/Spanish-Italian and Qunlat/Arabic-Turkic influence on top of that. the language has been evolving for centuries but more recent wide-spread public use partially started out as something of a more liberal-minded reclamation of Tevinter roots while not wanting to revert back to speaking like they’re leading the full Latin mass at all times

it’s not nationalism, exactly, but it’s still a love of country, or at least a desire to love your country and reclaim or reshape (rather than entirely reject, by doing something like only speaking Trade) a part of a contentious and problematic heritage and culture without taking a hard right into Venatori-style Tevinter nationalism that either ignores, excuses, or outright exalts all the worst parts of Tevinter history and wants to bring back the Empire at its worst

a lot of Altus/higher socially ranked Laetan/higher military ranked Soporati families (especially ones that skew more conservative) scorn or reject the use of modern Tevene because it’s such a distinct and noticeable move away from ancient Tevene (or at least the version of the language still used in religious, military, and magic practice, as well as debate in both houses of the Senate, probably), and feels - to them - like a rejection of Tevinter history and culture rather than an evolution of it, so it’s very much a Soporati and Liberati thing to speak modern Tevene

(in my mind slaves either know Tevene and Trade, like Fenris, or only know one (unless they knew it before they were enslaved). no one who willingly owns slaves would lower themself to ever speak, little lone teach, “bastardized”/modern Tevene, and probably come down hard on slaves that do know or learn it)

most Shadow Dragons use it pretty liberally in missives and when speaking to each other about business, especially with the Venatori being one of the major factions that detest it and thus don't know it, and is something that the Shadows leadership that comes from Altus/other higher socially ranked backgrounds have to learn

of the Shadows leadership we meet in Veilguard, Tarquin would probably be one of the only ones that speaks it fluently/has likely spoken it all his life and is comfortable speaking it. Neve would very likely be fluent as well, being from Dock Town and likely being new Laetan. Dorian and Mae might have known some before, but, considering his background, Ashur definitely knew next to none originally

this obviously doesn't change that they're doing good things and that they're making positive change but it would probably be a point of contention somewhere within the group hierarchy that regular Shadows can't easily communicate with their top leadership in a language they consider socially revolutionary/a symbol of a more liberal and modern Tevinter

[darkfictionjude]

Jude hoe does Nia react to waking up to a breakfast in bed that Birdie made?

For a second I thought you were calling me a hoe

“What’s this?” She sits up, a curious expression in her sleepy eyes.

You lay the tray on her lap. She looks at the food as if she’s never seen eggs before.

“And what’s the occasion?”

“I just wanted to,” you reply with a smile.

She picks up the fork, stabs the scrabbles eggs and puts it in her mouth. She chews silently for a few seconds before dropping the fork and saying, “fine, no occasion. You want something, what it is it?”

“Can’t I just cook breakfast for my girlfriend?”

She ponders this for a second. “Yes but you definitely want something. Tell me as I eat.”

[salt-n-salt]

the sudden influx of sdv fics im seeing from moots and just seeing in general is changing something within me .. do i dare attempt to write a shane fic that encapsulates the weariness of both his aging body and plummeting mental health on top of the recurring reminder of the deaths of his two best friends and how the guilt he has no reason to feel cripples him and how horribly ill-equipped he is to care for a child who he can’t look at without being reminded of them. hm.

[dylaneon]

happy milwaukee day everyone. today i will write gale visiting john in wisconsin and then john taking him to milwaukee for a date. because i can