#he just needs to STOP for a bit and his brain will reset

[pineconnie]

in my heart uu!parrot still has hope to stop being like this if he just like. gets imprisoned and has to do nothing to wait for someone to break him out. or get kidnapped or SOMETHING guys getting humbled will fix him and then ody duo will be slightly less doomed and we can be happy guys trust me

[sexbot300]

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹  rival!gojo head-canons

contents: 18+, mdni. rivals to (maybe) lovers. slight fluff, suggestive, crack, slight angst if you squint, smut. gojo satoru x reader.

tw: mentions of sex. actual descriptions of it. suggestive talk. unprotected sex p in v. oral. pet names. degradation. humiliation. satoru being somewhat of an (loving) ass.

a/n: i literally forgot how much i love writing head-canons. i left this one on a cliffhanger on purpose teehee lolz. thank you so so so much for the followers and support i'm getting. luv to hear your feedback! ⸜(｡˃ ��� ˂ )⸝♡

rival!gojo who has his patience and ego tested the minute he found out who you were.

rival!gojo who finds it endearing that someone other than him is on par with being the strongest. if endearing meant slightly blood-boiling.

rival!gojo who only heard word that you can “maybe” beat him in a fight and he “maybe” holding that as a grudge.

rival!gojo who sees you for the first time and his brain does a hard-factory reset.

rival!gojo who only laughs to himself that the world is cruel for making his own “arch-enemy” the hottest thing he’s ever set his eyes on.

rival!gojo who was starstruck, he knew that he had to know everything about you, for “research reasons.”

rival!gojo whos first encounter with you went something along the lines of:

“heard you’re the strongest.” “funny, heard the same thing about you.” “try not to die.” “are you kidding? and hand you over the title like a fucking crown?”

rival!gojo who jokes with your own students about joining the winning side, leaving you to be taught by him.

rival!gojo who will never admit that he lovessssssssssss that someone is as strong as he is, contradicting any bit of “malice” he has towards you.

rival!gojo who won't hesitate to call you, “princess” to mock you. truthfully, he’s mocking himself knowing that deep down he wouldn’t mind calling you that in all seriousness.

rival!gojo who purposely sits across from you in important meetings, taking any and every opportunity to speak to you. arms crossed over his chest while smiling. “dont get why i'm here really. look at her, she’s a big girl. i probably can leave the jujutsu world and it’ll be just fineeeee.”

rival!gojo who knows that the world needs him, but wants to be showered in compliments that prove he’s better. he only glances your direction, “ah, but if i leave, who will keep you on your toes?”

rival!gojo who after many, many years has this “relationship” with you that consists of; sly comments, wandering eyes, and moments that leave you both questioning the other.

rival!gojo who knows your favorite color, season, show, drink, how you like your toast charred— what? he’s just getting to know his “enemy” a bit more, relax.

rival!gojo who knows that you’re both the strongest, so it’s a ticking time bomb of who caves in first.

rival!gojo who no one can ever tell if you guys fucking hated each other or were just straight up fucking.

rival!gojo who purposely turns off his limitless near you, making excuses that “you’re no threat” to him. he secretly wants you to touch him because it means he’ll get to touch you.

rival!gojo who will never miss the opportunity to pass snide comments:

“ms. superhero is here, everyone clear way.” “not enough room on this earth for your ego alone, gojo.” “please, call me satoru.” “hm? why is that?”  “just want you to memorize the name of the person who’ll beat you one day.”  “if you’re trying to be sly with your insults, doing a terrible job.”  “princess, it’s not classified as insults if it’s the truth.” “would it make you happy if i just infatuated your self-worth like everyone else?” “there’s a lot you can do that can make me happy actually. start off by shutting up, maybe?”

rival!gojo who is constantly told to stop provoking you as the higher-ups know if you both take it too far, an actual war will break out. “gojo, behave yourself.” he only pouts, arms crossed over his chest, “whattttt? I’m being as friendly as i can be!”

rival!gojo who overhears the higher-ups scold you for replying back to his comments that are on equivalent with his childish behavior. “don’t entertain that idiot.” you only blink dumbfounded, “he started it! i’m nothing but kind and he's just a dumbass with too much power.”

rival!gojo who actually knows every little detail he wanted to about you. If it was your technique, dirt on you, your weaknesses, believe he’ll already know. “still keeping tabs on me?” “i don't understand, even if i was, we’re supposed to be working together sweetheart.” he only snickers, “although, you wish you mattered that much.” eliciting an eye-roll from you.

rival!gojo who actually finds you funny. someone who can keep up with him in all categories? yup, he’s making you his one way or another. you’re either the greatest blessing to occur to him or the reason he believes love truly is a curse.

rival!gojo who does find out if you’re attracted to someone or not and keeps a bit of an eye on who you’re interested in. by no means will he stop you from pursuing who you want, you deserve to feel happiness even if it isn’t with him. even if it means if it’s short-lived happiness, it was enough for a sorcerer who’s life-span is a guessing game. but he’s greedy. he’s selfish. he doesn’t want anyone else to take you, and he won’t directly interfere, but don’t think he isn’t pulling ropes in the back. 

rival!gojo who’s been your secret admirer for a while now, making sure to purposely get you gifts no man outside of his own status can ever top off. even if they were in his own status, he’ll quickly prove that he IS the Gojo Satoru and no one can top that off. if he can't outright admit he wants you, his pseudo-identity will. who do you think bought you those bouquets that swarmed your house that one valentine?

rival!gojo who notices that you’re wearing the pricey bracelet he bought you, snickering softly, “wow? the evil witch managed to successfully cast her spell in making someone like her?” glancing his direction, noticing a smug look on his face as his chin rests on his palm. “dunnooo gojo, maybe you’re not the only one here people find attractive.” you state, eyeing the handsome face of a man who would eat that shit up if you admitted it out loud. with a shit-eating grin, he spoke, “oh so you find me attractive?” unamused in a softer tone, “never said that, never will.” clicking his tongue, a deeper grin stretched out his pink lips. “you’ll come around eventually.”

rival!gojo who noticed that the bracelet didn’t have a cute necklace to accompany it, making a mental notice.

rival!gojo who isn’t actually your rival, he knows that you know he doesn’t have a big ego that you use as a cheap jab. there’s an unspoken mutual solidarity between you two, maybe the faux rivalry and self-worth being tested was a result of a fake relief you both fell in. maybe you can both pretend that all is well in this world. labeled the title of the strongest places all the responsibilities on both of your shoulders. he feels for you that this life isn’t kind to you or him and he feels a pang of guilt knowing that what’s expected of him, is expected of you too. does he hate you at all? never. does he hate knowing that someone else is burdened with the same path as him? more than anything.

rival!gojo who doesn’t understand why you’re still fighting. he has wealth, good looks, a huge dick, a sense of humor and is the not only the strongest but is a clan head. why don’t you just let him take care of you instead? why don't you end up in his arms at the end of the day? why don’t you let him massage the knots in your back and clean up dried-up wounds? why don't you unravel in a bath with him as you lay on his chest, playing with his fingers? why don’t you let him try the same sweets he really likes? why don’t you just let him occupy your world like you have with his?

rival!gojo who won't simply go at it with you like teenagers, he wants to see who will fall into the trap of falling for their rival first. he notices the way your eye lingers on his lips for a split second, or your face that paints that you feel tempted to bite the apple that god forbade you to. he wasn’t an idiot, and neither were you. he wasn’t physically keeping a distance from you more often because he was repulsed from you, no, it was quite the opposite. he knew that if given certain stances, he’d lose all control. but gojo didn’t want that, this was a game. he had to win. It wasn’t about a title anymore, it was about you. he had to win you.

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ 

rival!gojo who has sexual tension with you that can be cut with a knife, making everyone in the room shift in their seats.

rival!gojo who just eyes you up and comments under his breath that you’re probably so tense from the lack of dick you’re getting. “what was that satoru?” “nothing at all princess, you’re hearing things. get your ears checked out maybe.”

rival!gojo who doesn’t want to get under just your skin but under your sheets too. 

rival!gojo who wants to dominate you in every aspect, especially in bed.

rival!gojo who wants to pummel your pussy into the ground whenever you catch an attitude with him, which is mainly all the time. this one particular time when taking down a curse led you both on thin ice. “satoru, you’re supposed to guard me. the curse could’ve easily escaped. what the fuck were you doing?” you state walking close to him, arms out in disbelief with furrowed eyebrows. “huh, well maybe if you knew what you were doing you wouldn’t be relying on me.” he looked down at you, voice brattier than usual. “rely on you? i’d rather be thrown on the ground right now and have a special grade eat me whole.” faces only inches apart, he tugged his blindfold above one eyes, face growing cold. “I doubt it would remotely even want to eat something as vile as you.” your eyes only glued to his somber face, looking beautiful when disparaging as if it was double the taunting. clearing your throat, “as if it would want to taste you.” a gust of wind escaped his nose in disbelief, “please, it wouldn’t be the only thing here that would want to taste me.” pupils dilated, eyes directing staring in each others souls, you only scoff. “and who’s to say that you wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to throw me on the ground?” his once stern face, had a hint of lust wash over in the form of a slight smirk, “not really a fan of wrestling someone so weak, i’ll just feel bad for you. really.” given the circumstances and the hoards of curses making way, he actually regretted not taking you right then and there. his idea of wrestling equating to absolutely demolishing your guts.

rival!gojo who wonders what it would be like to shut your soft, plush mouth up with his own.

rival!gojo who wonders if the bitter insults that roll off your tongue taste sweeter in his mouth.

rival!gojo who is more than giddy to hear that you’re assigned together to train, because he’s not just thinking of physically fighting you. his mind trails off to training you to take his cock instead.

rival!gojo who wants to test your strength in seeing how many rounds you can go with him. this isn’t about training.

rival!gojo who imagines taking you in for the first time; raw, ass up in the air, back arched inhumanely possible, large hand gripping at your hair follicles, and the harsh slapping of skin filling the room. he needs to take you in the most humiliating way, he wants to make you feel all sorts of ways while all he does is snicker about how good you clench on to him in a lewd position.

rival!gojo who often thought about calling you his cum-slut, while he’d make your pretty tongue lap up and down his thick dick groaning about making sure not to be an ungrateful whore and to swallow every last bit of him.

rival!gojo who can’t tell if he wants to fuck the shit out of you or if he wants you to fuck the shit out of him.

rival!gojo who encourages you to wear shorts and tight clothing while sparring. he literally just wants to make you comfortable, nothing at all hidden underneath.

rival!gojo who just takes his sweet time trailing his eyes all around the curves of your body before smiling softly.

“something caught your eye satoru?”  “ohhhhhhh, nothing. just studying your technique.” “is my technique my ass?” “what? a man can’t make sure you have good form?”

rival!gojo who can sense with his six eyes that he gets you wet, he knows that you know which makes it all the better. 

rival!gojo who laughs at you making comments about him probably acting all high and mighty due to a lack of “something.” was it sex? was it his dick? “wouldn’t you like to know pervert?" oh how he wish he can just make you feel the depth of his dick by making you look at the bulge he'd make in your tummy.

rival!gojo who actually does get in a heated making out session with you; hair gripping, tongues slick against each other, moans trapped in each others mouths, dry humping like a bitch in heat, lips engulfing one another. “who the fuck knew that gojo satoru was a needy bitch?” you say breathless, a string of saliva connecting your shameful lips together. “oh please, i was doing the world a favor by shutting you up.”

rival!gojo who finds himself panting as well, dazed out expression, foreheads still touching one another as noses nudge. he huffs slightly, rosy hue scattered across his face. “one more time.” he states breathless, eyes half-lidded. “kiss me one more time,” his voice continues off while you snake an arm around his neck drawing fingertips up and down his undercut. with his eyes shutting softly a sudden gulp, “need to make sure i hated it as much as you did. yeah, yeah, something like that.” he murmurs off before your heads are titling slightly, eyes both shut tight as lips press together on a soft impact. juxtaposing the messy, down-right nasty, desperate exchange of saliva masked as a “kiss.”

rival!gojo who finds out himself that your lips were indeed, soft and he liked the feeling of them pressed against his more than off.

rival!gojo who has to hold himself back from absolutely demolishing your pussy in the middle of combat. through growing pants, you squint your eyes at him from a distance. “g-growing weak satoru.” he’d only blink slightly, shaking his head mentally, the thought of having you pant for other reasons goes on in his head. while staring at your face, “huh, guess i am.”

rival!gojo who jokes that one day he’ll make you cry. unaware of what he meant by that, you only roll your eyes at his statement. although he would kill to hurt you, he wasn’t lying, he would kill even more to see your precious eyes drown in tears of pleasure when taking his fat cock in inch by inch. 

rival!gojo who has you pinned with your hands above your head as he pushes his muscular upper body into yours, feeling every rigid of muscle on your own. “are you purposely trying to be weak or do you just want an excuse to be used as a rag-doll?” pressing more of his body weight on yours, the clothing unable to hold a barrier of the heat and desire emitted off you two. He grinned, voice dropping an octave, his breath hitting your nose, “you disgust me.” quickly flipped the narrative so he was underneath, arms pinned up above his head while your bottom half straddles his groin. a thick, rock-hard sensation felt underneath you, clothing still having a hard time masking your pulsating clit and his dick that’s twitching. staring directly into his cerulean eyes, “clearly, not enough.”

rival!gojo who just knows your pussy is tight and lethal. he knows you’re practically walking around with a pool drenched between your legs waiting to be spread out by him. it’s even worse knowing that he is right. he thinks he can fix that nasty behavior right out of you with a good ol’ lesson on his cock.

rival!gojo who wants nothing more to completely get lost in your pussy, spending hours either making you cry from his dick or convulsing on his tongue.

rival!gojo who is still patient. patiently waiting for the day you slip up before he thinks of casually slipping his 8 inches in your silky folds. little does gojo know that day will be approaching sooner than later.

[takumiraine]

Once Upon a Time chapter 9

Danny is still going through it, but it gets better I promise.

Taku note: jesus fuck putting the links in on these ones was a beast. I actually had to LOG IN to tumblr on my COMPUTER. ick.

<first> <prev> <next>

There is some texting abbreviations here. The abbreviations are: B, meaning Bruce, obviously. It is saved as just ‘B’ in his phone. R, meaning Replacement which is Tim. Tim is saved as Replacement. DB is Damian, saved as Demon Brat. D, is Dick, and is just saved as an eggplant emoji in Jason’s phone. This may or may not be relevant later.

—-

Okay. Okay. He needs a plan. He needs to think and form a plan. He needs a computer. He grabs a notebook. Scrambles around his upturned apartment until he finds a pen. Starts writing equations. The equations will solve to binary numbers. Each one a different letter. His brain is humming. He double checks his work. Triple checks it. Tears the page out.

Checks the work again.

He grabs a bit of his remaining cash. Climbs out onto his fire escape. Phases his hand through the glass to carefully reset the trap.

Move on silent feet, sticking to shadows. Hoodie on and hood over his head. Silent and fast. Alert. Find an Internet cafe. Buy an hour of computer time. Log onto the conspiracy site. Send a new private message.

Carefully type in the equations with shaking hands. Time ticks by so slowly and yet so fast. Equations come back to him. Solve. Translate. Read. Send more back. More frantic than before. They have to run. They have to hide. They cannot come here.

He received a picture of a chocolate bar in return.

They’re coming here. They’re coming. They’re coming and Danny can’t stop it. Can’t stop any of it.

He deletes the messages. Logs out of the website. Clears the history. Takes the paper. Leaves the building. Burns the paper to ash.

Hears a van. Pulls his hood further down over his head. Has to get to the observatory. That was the agreed upon meeting place. Has to get there. Has to hide.

Has to find a way to keep them safe. He’s out of practice. He doesn’t have the upper hand. He’s so scared. Scared for his friends. He gets to the observatory. It’s dark in there. Locked. Danny finds a ladder. Climbs. On the roof. The dome is solid. Cold. Damp. He sits in the shadow of the lens. He waits.

Time moved. Time stood still. Heavy cloud cover meant he couldn’t watch the passage of time in the moon and stars. That was Gotham. Last clear night or day was a long time ago. Danny couldn’t breathe.

Loud footsteps. He pressed himself deeper into the shadows.

“D…?” The voice was familiar. Danny peered out into the darkness, and saw two familiar faces.

“Tuck… Sam…” he croaked, voice raw like he had just spent hours Wailing.

“Hey Danny, good to see you.” Sam sat beside him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. The Fenton Creep Stick laid across her lap. Tucker came to join them, sitting on his other side and rifling around in his backpack. Before Danny could process it, a couple high protein granola bars and a bottle of strawberry pedialyte was put on his lap.

“Eat. Panicking burns calories and you need them.” Tucker insisted, nudging him gently. Already Danny felt the panic subsiding, leaving him exhausted. He ate the protein bars mechanically, forcing himself to focus on the taste and the feel of them between his teeth. He needed the nutrients desperately. After the protein bars were eaten, Danny chilled the bottle of strawberry drink and popped the cap off, chugging it.

“Alright. Now that you’re sort of fed and hydrated, breathe. You know I love the whole dead vibe as much as the next girl, but you’re still half human.” Sam rubbed his leg with her free hand and Tucker rubbed his back. It was soothing and almost involuntarily he took a deep breath in and out, then another, and another. He felt his mind settle. When he could finally think clearly again, he pulled them both close in a hug.

“Ancients, I’ve missed you guys…”

“Us too man. Us too,” Tucker agreed, squeezing Danny back just as tightly.

“Now, not to turn you back onto a doom spiral, but what the hell happened?” Sam asked once they pulled back from the embrace.

“Well, it’s kind of a long story. But I’ll tell you everything.” And Danny did. He started with getting enrolled in school, which they knew, because Tucker helped. Then with the cute guy that befriended him out of nowhere, and although he kept the name to himself, Sam clocked his crush almost immediately.

“It’s okay Danny, I have a radar for that. You were in love with me for how many years now?” She teased. “I am now able to spot a Danny-crush from a hundred yards.”

Tucker laughed with her and Danny groaned putting his head back in his hands. “I hate you so much sometimes…” he moaned.

“Yeah we love you too buddy.” Tucker patted him again. “Keep going with the story.”

He did. The tutoring, the meetings with red hood, and then finally, the week before and that evening. Again he left out the fact that he recognized Hood’s real identity. Sam and Tucker wouldn’t tell, but he couldn’t out another hero in good conscience. Even if they were fighting.

“Shit man.” Tucker scooted himself closer, while Sam did the same on his other side. “That was…”

“I’d rather fight Skulker and Technus together without my powers or a thermos…” he mumbled, pulling his knees to his chest and pressing his face into them.

“Okay. So here’s what we’re going to do. Tucker is going to make sure none of his trip lines have been tripped, I’m gonna make sure no creeps sneak up on us here. You’re gonna take a nap. You look like you’re about ready to drop dead again.” Danny nodded into his knees, and Tucker got out his pda and got to work.

Slowly, Danny’s breathing evened and slowed then stopped almost completely. Having his friends nearby meant he was safe. Safety meant sleep.

Jason was out looking. He started at Danny’s apartment, but he wasn’t answering, there was no sound of movement, the thermals were all ambient, so he moved on.

The longer he looked the more he realized, he barely knew anything about Danny. Danny was great at hedging around questions about himself. Turning the conversation back to Jason, or topics that were safe. The weather, the best places to get burgers, the best type of tree to climb, the best dangerous animal to be freed from the zoo. That last topic was courtesy of Damian but…

Then Jason remembered. They had been eating outside after dark. Danny had looked up at the sky and sighed, then pointed fries accusingly at Jason. “Your dad is like, richer than anyone else here right? He should really do something about all this smog. Seeing the stars at night is one of life’s great pleasures.”

“You could go to the observatory,” Jason had suggested, fairly used to Danny occasionally having ideas for Bruce’s money without any real interest in using it for himself. Always for the betterment of the city as a whole.

“That’s a last resort option. Nothing beats constellation spotting laying on a rooftop. You should be able to see Orion’s Belt over….” Danny looked up at the sky, head shifting as he oriented himself to north and then pointing “over there, somewhere.”

“Well, I’ll bring it up and see what WE has in the works for ecological initiatives.” Jason had said, taken in by how certain Danny was. He could have been bullshitting Jason, but sure enough when he looked it up later, Danny had the right idea, even if he was a few degrees off in his estimation.

Not having any better idea, Jason sped off towards the observatory.

Danny had been asleep for maybe an hour when the motorcycle was heard pulling up. Tucker turned off his modified PDA, the backlight in the screen would have given them away in a heartbeat.

Once the motorcycle turned off though, Sam woke up Danny. He woke with a silent start, looking around to see what had alarmed his friends. When he felt the familiar press of another halfa’s core he pressed a hand to each of their knees and wrote a small smiley face on them. Danny did not miss the way Sam’s grip on the creep stick tightened.

Jason didn’t immediately think anything of the observatory as he circled it. There were two hot spots on the roof that were likely just horny teenagers. He would make his loop and then head off. At least, that was the plan until he spotted the ice cold person shape between the two warmer ones.

Nobody ran that cold except Danny.

Jason stood at the base of the ladder and considered his options. He didn’t know who Danny was up there with. He didn’t know if Danny was in danger. Though the pit in him wasn’t any more riled up than it normally was. He didn’t know if Danny would throw his ass right off the roof. There wasn’t anything around here for him to grapnel onto if he was.

‘I did not know your trip into the pit made you a coward, Todd’ he could hear Damian taunt in his head.

Shaking the thought of his brother off, Jason climbed the ladder. The moment his helmet popped over the roof Danny’s eyes were fixed on him. “Go away J-Hood.”

Jason was momentarily surprised, Danny had obviously not expected him to come in costume, but corrected himself fairly flawlessly. Not outing him to the two people who were holding him protectively. Must be Sam and Tucker.

“I’m not going to hurt you. Are these your friends?” He asked, not moving any further up the ladder. Danny nodded, continuing to glare over his knees.

“Sam and Tucker. They knew me… before everything else.”

Jason nodded. Climbed up enough to get a good look. “I have a safe house nearby. Can we go there and talk?”

“Is more of your little guano group” Sam snickered at the name and Tucker gave Danny a fist bump, “going to hunt me down if I don’t?”

“No. But you’ll want to hear what I have to say.”

Danny looked between his friends for a minute, before slowly uncurling and standing, helping his friends up. “Fine.”

Once they were all on the ground they walked to the safe house, a couple blocks away. Once they were inside, Jason pulled off the helmet.

“Jason Todd. Also known as Red Hood.”

He noticed Sam give Danny a look, and he made a face back at her. Tucker rolled his eyes. “You talk to the Bat?” Danny asked, rather than confront his friend.

“Yeah. But that’s not the important part. After we talked tonight Oracle noticed something. The firewall was an automatic scoop. Anything related to your parents’….hobby got thrown into a…. Technological bucket. It’s why your messages never made it to the League.”

Danny took a step back, and Sam and Tucker automatically moved closer, supporting him. “You…. Heard the messages?”

“There was video too. Of… an attack.”

“Of course those assholes were filming it.” Sam tightened her grip on the creep stick as she spoke. Danny raised a shaking hand to his face, feeling for something. His eyes had gone unfocused.

Damn it. Jason took a step forward and Danny flinched, the air going cold. “Easy D.” Tucker soothed. “You’re in Gotham. We’re gonna go sit.” Sam and Tucker bullied Danny to the couch. Tucker sat next to him, while Sam stood in front of them protectively. When she caught Jason trying to look around her she snapped to get his attention.

“Hey, Danny needs some water. About 35 degrees if you have it that cold, cold as you have otherwise.” The snapping and hyper specific orders placed her in his memory. Samantha Manson. Daughter of the Amity Mansons. They attended a few Galas when she was younger. She was very insistent on her veganism even then.

Jason wasn’t about to argue with a woman holding a bat. If Sam was anything like his brothers, she knew how to use it even before the vigilante training.

He brought Danny water, tap with a couple of ice cubes, and passed it to Tucker, who was still talking quietly to Danny. Danny was nodding and occasionally giving a thin half smile, but was able to hold the glass on his own and sip from it.

“We need a plan.” Danny said after he finished drinking.

“Batman wants to talk to you.” Jason told him, which got Danny opening his mouth to protest.

“First,” Sam interrupted, looking at Danny then at Jason, “Tucker is going to do his checks, Danny is going to sleep, and we are going to wait.”

“I don’t need to sleep.” Danny crossed his arms, protesting.

“And Dash didn’t shove you in a locker at least once a week.” Tucker’s response was combined with an eye roll. “You look like you just went a dozen rounds with Skulker without your powers. You need pizza rolls and a nap.”

“You make me sound like I’m a kindergartener.”

“I think I have pizza rolls.” Jason interrupted the protest. “I’ll kill the lights, make the brat’s pizza rolls for you and you just lay there until they’re done.”

Danny scowled at Jason for hanging up on him but as Tucker slid off the couch onto the floor in front of him, Danny obediently laid down. As Jason pulled the bag out of the freezer and started the oven heating, he watched Danny’s breathing slow down and even out, then stop altogether.

Sam followed his gaze and took Danny’s sleeping form in quickly before peering at what Tucker was doing. Seeing that the people Danny knew the longest weren’t concerned about his lack of visible breathing, Jason settled a bit, texting the family chat.

From J: so I found Danny. But he has backup now. He managed to get in contact with his friends.

From B: Are you on your way?

From J: no. He was freaking out. Right now he’s asleep on the couch and I’m making pizza rolls.

From DB: Excuse me zombie child, those happen to be mine.

From J: Better learn to share now before you learn the hard way like Dickie, Timber and I did.

From B: Jason, please.

From J: what? It’s not a lie. He’s the fourth Robin that we know about.

From DB: I am the best. I will not be replaced.

From R: idk Dami, the new kid has black hair, blue eyes and a troubled past. He’s adoption bait. Hopefully he didn’t lie about his age and really is older than you.

From D: it’s never easy having to hand over the spandex and cape to a younger more dangerous Robin.

From DB: So you admit that I am the best.

From D: no I said you were younger and more dangerous than we were as Robin. Except for maybe Jay. He liked to bite criminals.

From J: hey! They were the idiots who put their hands near my face. I grew up hungry. You eat what you can.

From B: Before this gets more out of hand, Jason, do you know about when you will be arriving?

From J: probably going to leave here in 45 minutes to an hour. I will let you know.

Jason was going to take his time cooking those pizza rolls correctly. He wasn’t going to let them ooze out everywhere, then they would have to cool so when Danny inevitably wolfed them down he wouldn’t scorch his mouth. Allow for some wake up time…

Jason was completely, and understandably in his opinion, giving Danny as much time before the meet the family scene happened. The guy had been through enough.

[pup-pee]

oh god so many of the tags got messed up y did i type this in tags i thought it was gonna b a small ramble but no some1 help theyre in my head

i want to put bart in a time loop. konbart time loop au. is this anything

[1427]

petal plush’d

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary:

Sinnedenoderum: Floral Species - When inhaled by human beings it has psychoactive properties as well as acting on the nervous and vascular systems. Often causes a lack of inhibitions and desire or delusion of the need for sexual intercourse. In some cases will cause tumecense in individuals affected. 

Setting: Season 2, the farm. 

Warnings; dub-con (reader is willing but daryl doesn’t ask), drugging (sex pollen, without consent/forcefully), size!kink, panty sniffing, oral (m and f), unprotected piv, mentions of vomit (no one actually vomits), rough sex, swelling genitalia, poorly written SMUT, no plot just VIBES (sex pollen vibes)

Word Count: 3k

A/n: heed the tags y’all. Enter at your own risk. This is more idea/concept than good prose so; sorry if it’s written like dogshit.

18+ mdni. 

masterlist

Daryl should know better. Everyone who ever known anything up in the mountains knew you don’t smell the purple flowers. Daryl shouldn’t be wasting any time smelling any flowers. Supposed to be out hunting. But nah, had to stop and do it. After all there was a whole damn bush of ‘em. How could he not? 

Honestly, he’d probably already been influenced by the time he kneeled down and took a big inhale. The spores already creeping in and taking hold of him. As soon as he does it, he stands up straight as an arrow. A mission. A need. An ache. 

He stalks back to camp, handful of flowers and spores that he’s tracking all through the forest. This is how they spread. This is how they used the human species to populate. 

He’s over by the tents, blinking back into reality as he unzips yours. He doesn’t know it’s yours, doesn’t care. Doesn’t matter. His brain is reset - back to zero. Back to puberty and being so horny he could fucking die and he’s going to find a pair of used underwear and he’s going to put it in his fucking mouth. His ears are pounding, he’s never felt dirtier. His cock rock hard and killing him. 

Your few pairs of dirty panties are hidden in a ball in the bottom of your backpack and they are honestly disgusting. Just exactly how Daryl likes them. Worn maybe a few days, and when you were working in the sun. Sweaty and salty and tangy and delicious. His saliva bringing the taste back to life on his tongue, his eyes roll back into his head.

He’s an animal. On all fours in your half unzipped tent with a wad of soiled underwear in his mouth. Hand shooting down his pants to touch himself but it doesn’t feel like anything. 

Nah, he should know better. Knew it wouldn’t. Knew he either had to ride it out or find a girl. But now he knew he had to find whoever these belonged to. This fuckin’ taste. He needed you. 

He quickly scours the tent for a clue as to whose tent it is. Coming across some silly charm bracelet he’s seen you wear and a few notebooks he’s definitely seen you writing in. 

Daryl exits the tent with a bit more hesitancy, his heart pounding even harder. Part of his brain fighting back against what he knew this flower was about to make him do to you. 

This is how they spread. 

He comes across you alone on the far edge of the field hanging laundry on the line, almost hidden in the tall grass that edged the property, grateful that he didn’t have to face anyone else like this. His hand covers his hard dick in his pants before he calls out to you, “Hey!” 

You jump, not realizing anyone had been out here with you, wondering how long he’d been standing there. You give him a once over and realize something’s wrong, he’s out of breath and looks like he’s in pain. “Hey!” You call back, continuing to hang clothes, “What’s going on?” 

You put your hand up to shield the sun as you make eye contact with him. He’s standing there with his hand over his mouth, slumped shoulders, other hand loosely over his crotch - before he starts walking toward you. Feet scraping against the grass as he stalks over. 

“Gonna need yer help w’somethin’.” He shouts, finally getting close enough to speak at a normal volume; to see him without squinting your eyes in the sun. 

He’s flushed, his heart racing. You can tell just by looking at him that whatever he needed help with, you didn’t want to be involved. You assumed it was something like hard labor. Or walking far somewhere. And you were enjoying the mendacity of hanging the laundry on the line. It was serene. "I'm kinda busy, can't someone else help you?"

"Naw, s'gotta be you." He replies quickly, his voice almost dancing up your neck. His moves are deliberate as he positions himself behind you, one hand grazing the skin on your shoulder before pulling it right across your body. Crossed across your chest, he whispers even deeper into your ear, "These're yers, righ'?" He asks gruffly while pulling his arm up and into a light chokehold, elbow crooked around your neck, his whole body pressed into you. Your eyes shoot wide while he holds up a pair of your used panties with an extended arm directly in your line of sight. The light stain clear as day, you're more mortified than confused. His grip gets tighter, "They are, ain't they?" his heavy breaths moving your hair as he speaks into your ear. 

You nod, cautiously, curiously. "Mmhmm" 

As he pulls the panties close to your face you see the soft purple colors of a flower - and then you smell it. On top of your own scent there is a light delicate unmistakeable floral smell. Daryl’s holding the flower inside the panties, shoving them both forcefully in your face. “Don’ be shy, com’awn.” He grunts, without taking his arm from your neck he removes the flower to put the panties back up to his own face. He maneuvers you slightly in his grip and shoves the flower back into your nose. Both of you taking deep breaths in. You don’t have time to wonder what the hell is going on before it hits you. Daryl’s inside his head screaming at himself, but he can’t stop. He doesn’t know he wouldn’t have to use some flower to get with you. Or that you’d probably have done this willingly. 

You don’t have time to think about it. You don’t care. 

You’re overtaken. Set to zero. This insatiable need; you look over at him, gnawing at the light stain right in the center, and it fills you with desire. He tears himself away to see if it had worked yet. Your dilated pupils in the midday sun were an instant give-away. He pulls you fifteen feet towards the tall grass and shoves you backwards, you land on your ass and your elbows but even that pressure and shock vibrates through your body like a dull orgasm. 

Your heads swimming, you’re fucking drowning in it. Daryl’s between your legs and pulling your panties off of you as fast as all of this seemingly has happened, his tongue covered in saliva like he’s fucking drooling for it. He needs you, now. To taste that fuckin’ juice right from the tap. He dives into you nose first, parting your lips harshly for his rough tongue, he’s not trying to please you. He’s trying to eat you alive. He’s never been hungrier. 

There’s a thought prickling in your subconscious; you know the flower is what did this to both of you. Looking down your body, his tongue on your cunt is starting to become way too sensitive, you realize your pussy is swelling. Engorged, puffy, and honestly adorable. Daryl seems to like it, licking along the glossy wet skin more slowly. Taking your swollen lips in his mouth and swirling his tongue all around them. The sensation vibrating inside of you only reminding you of how hollow you feel. “Daryl-!” You choke out, he grunts into you in response. 

“Put that fat cock down my throat already.” Your eyes go wide at your own words, you can’t imagine ever saying that; and yet it slips right out of your mouth like you’d never been more confident in your whole life. It is what you wanted. But…damn. It was like every dirty thing your subconscious ever wanted was pushing it’s way through and to the surface. It’s on your skin, it’s in your thoughts, it’s bursting out of your fuckin’ soul. 

When Daryl hears your words it sparks something inside him too. Reignites a desire long lost to actual experience. Something he’d always wanted to try but never could. He was going to fuck your face until you threw up all over his cock. He smiles, kissing up your leg, “Ya wanna choke on it, huh?” 

Your eyes roll back as you feel him move from between your legs, shuffling through the tall grass to kneel beside you. Daryl gazes down at your body, your skin sunkissed and flushing and perfect, everything seemed brighter. Like you were fuckin sparklin’ in the sunshine. He’s not expecting his cock to be just as swollen as your pussy was, but jesus christ. It almost makes him lose his balance, he’s never seen himself look so big. It turns him on that much more. He can’t take it, your mouth just inches away and drooling for it. 

Your cheeks immediately burn at the entrance of his engorged member. Spit rocketing out the sides of your mouth around him as your breath quickens. He pushes himself deeper into you. poking at the back of your throat and you gag. He doesn’t care, you don’t care. He drives himself in and out of your mouth with no abandon, like he’d never been able to do before. Always too scared, too ashamed, too embarrassed. Never able to take the back of the girls head and just force her down on him. Exactly everything he’s doing to you now. And you love it. Your eyes sting with tears, and you’re gagging and spitting up thick strings of saliva and mucus, and you can hardly breathe. Daryl’s looking down at you, thinking to himself that he’s never seen someone look more fuckin’ beautiful. “Takin’ ma cock like such a good slut, hm?” 

You look up at him, mouth stuffed full. As he speaks your eyes flutter closed, nothing's ever sounded hotter. It seeps into you and shakes your core. Daryl pulls his hips back, hands in your hair and pumps long purposeful strokes into the back of your throat while he continues praising you, “So. Fuckin’. Good. Fer me.” Each grunt another rough assault on your mouth.

Your jaw was starting to seize up, your cheeks completely abused. Your tears turning to real ones, whines at the back of your throat. Snot bubbling out of your nose as you try to breathe. 

Daryl doesn’t notice but he stops anyway, pulling himself out of your mouth, his cock bouncing proudly as he makes his way between your legs again. 

He’d looked down and over you, taken one look at that puffy pussy, jiggling in the sunlight, and the flower took him over. No thoughts left in his head; no more perverse diversions, just the need to empty inside of you. To fill you full. 

You close your eyes and wait as you feel him push through your folds, kissing the head of his cock with your sensitive clit a few times before dipping himself inside of you. His swollen head pushing your walls apart is an agonizingly delicious burn. Slowly inching himself inside, he can’t fucking breathe you’re so fucking tight. 

Every part of you pulsates with extra blood, so sensitive and juicy and perfect. As he starts to pull out, you can feel your pussy being pulled back with it. The size and girth of him creating a suction inside of you, it pulls him back in. Daryl groans deeply at the feeling and begins to reposition himself 

Grabbing your legs and pushing your knees up toward your head, your hips angled directly to the sky as he plunges long deep strokes into you. Your pussy pulling up with his cock every time he pulls out. You can see him pulling and pushing with every thrust, your lips coming to meet his shaft and swallowing him again. 

“Fuckin’ made for ma’ cock, huh?” He takes one hand off the back of your thigh and holds himself at the base, rubbing himself back and forth through your folds harshly. Watching the plump skin jiggle around his cock. He’s never seen anything like it, so full and perfect and so fucking hot. He almost gets lost in it, fucking up and into your tumescent lips, but you want him inside again. You’d never felt so full in your life. 

You buck your hips up into him and he gets the message, burying himself inside of you slowly and to the hilt. He pulls himself out of you again, even slower. Both of you just feeling as every vein and bulge is suctioned tight to your walls as he moves. 

You both seem to drone into this feeling. Him slowly sliding in and out of you, both of you watching as your pussy contracts around him - until you start moving to meet his hips, wanting him even deeper. 

Daryl sits up and repositions you both again, his thick calloused digits moving over your skin so gently in comparison to this whole experience.  Pushing your legs, and repositioning your hips so that you’re face down in front of him. Can’t fuckin’ wait to feel that grip from behind. He knows he’s done for the second you arch your back and push yourself back into him. He’d hardly got the tip in before you were bottoming yourself out ontop of him. As you slowly pull yourself off he watches your asshole puff out, his cock head pushing it out from the inside. Fuck, he can’t even move. Just letting you ride him from underneath, watching your asshole push out and around his cock from inside your fucking body. Holy fuckin’ goddamn shit. 

You milk his cock with your pussy until you can feel him swelling even more. You slow down to give him back control, to let him use you however he wants. Daryl takes one hand on each hip and pushes you flush with the ground. His thumbs spreading you apart so he can watch his cock drive into you as he finishes. He’s doesn’t know it yet but he’s going to think about how good your cunt swallowed him every time he cums for years - it’s the most intense orgasm he’s ever had in his life. 

Pulling your hips back against him with such force his fingernails dig into your skin, your gasping out screams as he fucks into you so deeply you forget how to breathe. You can feel every single twitch of his cock as it pulsates his load inside of you.

But you were still aching. He slumps over ontop of you, his sweat kissed forehead dropping to your shoulder, as if reading your mind he asks you sweetly, “What do you need?” 

“Suck on my tits.” You rasp out, not needing even a moment to think about it. Your nipples had been screaming for attention this whole time. He grunts a smile into the skin of your shoulder before flipping you over on your back again. Moving out from between your legs he kneels on the ground beside your sprawled out body. He moves his hand swiftly over the top of your dress and yanks it down, your nipples just as puffy and swollen as your pussy. Even though the effects of the flower are wearing off Daryl can’t help but salivate again at the sight. He dips his head down to your chest, licking into your nipple, pushing it around inside his mouth. You lose it. The tight tension in your belly unraveling and twisting itself into every part of you. Your hand shoots down between your legs to play with your clit but Daryl pulls it away and replaces it with his own. 

His warm rough fingers circle your sensitive bundle of nerves so gently, you’re dissolving against his touch. Climbing inside and up the steep hill to the top of your orgasm. His lips still tightly sucking on your breast, one hand between your legs, and the other pulling on your other nipple harshly. Your body feels so ruined, so pulled and prodded apart, destroyed against the force of the flower through the arms of a man. It cascades through your cunt like you’re expecting, but you’ve never felt an orgasm that tore through the nerves in your nipples as well. Like every place he’s attached to you explodes all at once. Screaming into the open air while it rips through your body. Pussy to fingertips to toes and back again, a shaking mess underneath of him. 

Daryl didn’t have time to feel the post-nut shame, not with you to take care of. But you feel it. The prickly grass on your skin like small reminders of the dirty things you’d said, you’d done with him. The way he’d seen your body, the way it reacted to him. 

His voice cuts through, as he’s putting himself away and back into his pants, “Shit, sorry I made ya do all that. It’s the damn flower…” he doesn’t even know how to explain, how to begin to apologize for what he’d just done to you. How he’d violated you. 

“No,” you scramble, blushing, “I liked it. I mean-“ you cough, standing up and dusting yourself off, “I know the flower made me really like it. But, I would have… liked it anyway.” 

Daryl observes you getting awkward and stumbling over your words, it makes him feel less like a super fucking predator. He takes a few big strides to stand close to you again, leaning down and kissing your forehead. He touches his thumb to your lips, “Cuz yer fuckin’ made fer me.” He means it. Your scent, the way you fit around him, the way you took his cock so perfectly. Fuckin’ made for him. 

“Don’chya got somethin’ yer s’possed ta be doin’, girlie?” He tugs on some of your hair before slapping your ass and making his way back to the tents. Leaving you to gather yourself and finishing hanging clothes. Going back to tell everyone the bad news that he didn’t hunt anything today. ‘Cept a pretty girl and her womb.

He left that part out. And no one believed him about the flower when he tried to warn them it was in the woods close by. Just an old Appalachian wives tale. Sure. 

a/n: had this idea swimming for a few days, had a few parts written. Blasted it out in a few hours and I didn’t really proofread it but I feel like this is NO PLOT JUST VIBES.

[badkitty3000]

Physical Fitness

Five has been distant lately, but you discover all he needs is a good workout to get his mind back on you again

Words: 2800

Warnings: Smut, Daddy kink, masturbation

☂️Requests open!☂️

Link to my Number Five Fanfiction Master List

Five doesn’t always give you his utmost attention when he gets home. Some days he’s bursting through the door, pissed off about one thing or another, already in mid-sentence while he rants about the lack of brain cells in whoever was annoying him that day. So, you listen quietly, with an amused expression that you try and hide from him until he calms down enough for you to speak. Usually, all it takes is a soft kiss, a scratch down his back with your nails, and maybe even a stiff drink and he’s back to being putty in your hands.

You don’t care if he stomps around the kitchen, slamming cupboard doors and rattling the glasses inside. Or if he’s so worked up, he can’t sit still and he paces back and forth in the living room while muttering various curse words under his breath. You don’t mind because his anger is never aimed at you, and you are also the only one who can dare to try and calm him down without fear of bodily harm.

No, those things don’t bother you. What does bother you is when he outright ignores you. Those times when he hurries through the door, waves a hasty hello without even glancing up, and shuts himself away in his office. When you try and go to him, knocking hesitantly on the door and cracking it open, he’ll look up momentarily from whatever he’s doing, give you a brief smile, and he’s back at it again. On those days, you’ve learned to just let him be. But it still doesn’t make you any less irritated.

He knows it pisses you off. So, later, when you’ve gone to bed before him and you’re feigning sleep, he’ll slip in behind you and pull you close. He’ll whisper how much he loves you and place kisses along your shoulder and neck until you can’t take it anymore and you’re pushing back against him, having forgotten what you were mad about in the first place.

Those days used to be few and far between, but lately, it’s become a habit. Every day these past two weeks, it’s been one quick peck on the cheek or brief hug, before he’s back at his “research” and ignoring you behind closed doors. You’ve tried talking to him, and he says he’ll make an effort but so far you haven’t seen anything change. You know you have a solid relationship and he would never do anything to intentionally hurt you, but you’re not sure why he’s acting like this. Probably just because he’s an oblivious man wrapped up in his own world, but still, it’s making you worry.

When you are stressed, you usually throw yourself into some kind of physical activity. For a while it was kickboxing, and then it was tennis. Lately, it’s been yoga. It seems to work well for relaxing your mind while also getting a bit of a workout. Tonight you think about going to the studio that you usually frequent, but decide you’re too lazy and you’ll just do your own routine at home.

Five is still not home, but you aren’t going to wait for him. Not like it would matter anyway. You change into your sports bra and black leggings, pull your hair back in a ponytail, and fill up your water bottle. Once you are set up in the living room, with the lights dimmed and relaxing music playing, you begin with a few stretches and then move into some more advanced poses.

Your workout is an hour long and about 30 minutes in you have a nice sheen of sweat covering your body and you’re feeling good. The next half is more about cooling down and resetting your mind. As you are getting into position for the next pose, you hear Five open and close the door to the house, and his footsteps walking towards the room you’re in. You don’t stop what you’re doing. Your time is valuable too, and if he can’t be bothered to stop what he’s doing lately, then why should you?

You sense Five walk into the room just as you are bending over in downward facing dog, your hands on the floor in front of you and your ass in the air. You can’t see his face, but when you look through your legs, you can see that he has stopped in the doorway. Then you watch as his polished black dress shoes cross over one another and he leans into the door frame. When you stand up and look over your shoulder you see him casually watching you with a wolfish grin.

“Please, don’t let me stop you,” he says, gesturing with his hand for you to continue. His shirt sleeves are uncuffed and rolled up his forearms as he crosses his arms over his chest in an air of superiority.

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. “Is this what I have to do to get your attention these days? Bend over in tight pants?”

“It doesn’t hurt.”

You huff, turning away from him. “Well, I’m going to finish my workout, so either sit there quietly or go back to your office.”

“Alright, I will,” you hear him say as you get back to your routine.

Assuming he was talking about the latter of your two suggestions, you’re caught off guard when you see him cross over and sit down in one of the armchairs facing you.

“What are you doing?”

He shrugs with a smirk. “Sitting here quietly.”

Not really wanting to indulge him in whatever he’s up to, you turn away again with a loud sigh and move into another pose. There’s a few more minutes of balancing with your butt on display in Five’s direction, but he doesn’t say anything. Then you move onto the ground on your stomach, pushing the top half of your body up with your arms and looking towards the ceiling.

“So, what’s that one called?”

You sigh again. “Cobra. I thought you were supposed to be quiet.”

When you turn around again, your mouth opens in a partial gape as you watch Five in his chair. He is sitting with his legs splayed and his hand on the very prominent bulge in his crotch, eyeing you up like a hungry predator.

“I got your cobra right here, honey,” he says with a smile, and you can see he’s trying not to laugh at his stupid innuendo.

You try to hold in your own giggle but you can’t and you shake your head. “You’re disgusting.”

With another smart-ass grin, he pulls his tie off, discarding it on the floor. “No. Whipping out my dick and jerking off while watching you would be disgusting.”

Before you can make a comment, he starts doing exactly that; unbuckling his belt and unzipping the fly to his pants. He pushes them down far enough to expose his fully hard cock and he gives it a long stroke with his hand, all while keeping his eyes on you.

You should be disgusted. Or annoyed, at the very least. But, fuck, he looks hot sitting there with his sleeves rolled up and his hair flopping onto his forehead; thick cock in his hand. Your breath speeds up just a little and you swallow the pool of saliva that has collected in your mouth.

You clear your throat and flip your ponytail over your shoulder with a sly grin. “Well…you do what you want, I guess. I’m going to finish this workout.”

As you turn away, you decide you’re going to give him as good of a show as you can come up with. You get down on the ground in child’s pose, making sure to spread your knees out wide and push your ass back towards your heels while you splay your arms out in front of you in supplication. You can’t see him, but the thought of what he is doing while watching you is getting you wet and creating a damp spot in the crotch of your pants.

You are slow and deliberate with your movements, and you are back on your hands and knees, only this time you turn to face him. His breathing is louder as he shamelessly works his fist over his cock, running his thumb over the head and jerking his hips up. You can hear the wet slapping noises as his fingers spread the continuous flow of pre-cum over his shaft and he picks up the pace. One side of his mouth turns up as you look at him but he doesn’t slow his movements.

“Fuck, baby, keep going,” he breathes out.

With a breathy laugh you get back to it, pushing your ass up and arching your neck back in a cow pose. It gives him a nice view of your tits in your skimpy sports bra and you hear him let out a quiet grunt while he vigorously pleasures himself. When you flip around and push your hips towards the sky, legs spread wide in a bridge pose, you hear him moan softly.

Turning back over and staying on your hands and knees, you look up at him with wide, pleading eyes and start to crawl slowly towards him. His breath hitches in his throat when you stop between his legs, wetting your plump pink lips with your tongue and gazing up through a fan of dark lashes. Five lets out a long groan when you reach up and place your hand around his, guiding him as he slowly pumps his cock up and down.

“Do you want to fuck me, Daddy?” you ask as sweetly and innocently as possible.

Five lets out a growl through gritted teeth as he thrusts his hips up into the tight fist around his dick.

“Yes. Fuck, yes, I want to fuck you.”

You lean forward and run the flat of your tongue up the underside of his shaft, from base to tip, keeping your eyes on him until he closes his and leans his head back with a whine.

When you pull back, taking your hand with you, he looks back down at you with a deep crease between his dark brows as you start tracing one finger over the top of his thigh and sticking out your bottom lip.

“Five, I want nothing more than to feel your big, thick cock inside of me right now, but here’s the thing. Unless you get that gorgeous, brilliant head out of your ass and start making an effort to acknowledge me around here, I’m afraid that cobra of yours is going to get mighty lonely. Understand?”

Five lets out a disbelieving laugh. “You can’t be serious.”

You pout some more and then back away, shaking your head. “Sorry, baby. I’m very serious.”

Before you let him respond, your back is turned to him again and you’re bending over in an upside-down V shape while running a hand slowly over one ass cheek and down the back of your thigh.

“Fuck…” you hear him moan under his breath and you know you’ve got him. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice sounding just a tad on the pitiful side. “I will make an effort to pay attention to you more.”

You look at him through your legs again, watching him pout with his dick in his hand, and you smile. “No more slinking into your office the minute you get home and ignoring me?”

“No, I promise. No more.”

You love that he’s practically begging you now, desperate and panting as you tease him with your tight, round ass in front of his face. You press back a little more to accentuate it.

“Alright then, as long as you promise. Now, what was it that you wanted to do to me?”

In a literal flash, Five is behind you, pants falling to the ground and his hands on your hips, tugging you backward. You shriek as he slams his pelvis into your backside, his solid cock pushing between your clothed legs. He yanks you back up to standing with a hand wrapped around your ponytail, his breath hot on your neck as his low and deadly voice buzzes over your skin.

“On your hands and knees. Daddy’s going to fuck you now.”

With a pathetic moan that is partly due to the fact that you can’t help yourself when it comes to his demands, you drop to the floor on your hands and knees. He’s behind you again, tugging at the waistband of your pants and pulling them down your thighs. When you feel his fingers slip in between your legs, your body instinctively reacts by pressing backward onto his hand.

“Five…” you whine, your head hanging down as he pushes his fingers inside you. “Please…”

“What’s wrong sweetheart? I thought you wanted more attention from me.”

You thrust your hips back and forth, fucking his fingers while you moan and gasp like some kind of feral creature. When he pulls his hand away, you feel his wet fingers on your back as he pushes your torso towards the ground. He’s teasing you with his cock, rubbing his leaking head against your clit and through your folds until you can’t stand it anymore.

“Five!” you cry, your face pushed against the floor.

“Let me hear you, darling. Tell me what you want.”

“Fuck me! Please!”

Five doesn’t hesitate for a second, slipping inside of you, pushing all of the way in until his hips are flush with your ass. He grips your waist tightly, holding you there while you squirm against him.

“Fuuuck…” he groans. “You know exactly how Daddy likes it.”

After a strong slap to your ass, Five starts fucking you hard and deep, driving into you with enough force that your body is propelled forward and you know you’re going to have rug burn on your arms and knees. But it doesn’t matter, because everything he is doing is exactly right. Each time he pounds into you, and you feel his thick cock filling you up, you cry out from how good it feels. Your pussy is soaking wet and throbbing with each thrust and you’re not sure how much more you can take.

He's breathing loud and hard behind you, a loud grunt accompanying each snap of his hips, hands firmly clutching your body; holding you steady while he pumps inside of you.

“Oh shit, you’re such a good girl for me, sweetheart. I want to feel you come on my cock,” he rasps.

With one expert move of his hand around the front of you, his fingers finding your clit and pressing into it hard, you yell out.

“Oh, god, Five! Yesss….oh fffuckk…I…I…oh shh…”

Your orgasm hits you hard and your fingers claw into the carpet beneath you, your knuckles white, and your body spasming uncontrollably against his. You continue moaning his name while he pounds into you a few more times before swearing loudly and exploding inside of you. You both stay like that, the muscles in your bodies tight and locked into position as your cries and whines soften and then subside. Soon, there is nothing but the ragged sound of your heavy breathing, and you feel him start to soften and pull out.

You both collapse onto the floor on your backs, chests heaving and shiny with sweat. When you look over at Five, you smile and then start laughing breathily.

“What’s so funny?” he smirks, turning his head to the side to look at you while he reaches down to pull up his pants.

You begin to pull up your own as you grin back at him. “You. If I had known all I needed to do to get your attention was stick my ass in your face, I would have done that weeks ago.”

Five chuckles and moves over next to you, propping his head up with one hand. He pushes a damp piece of hair off your face. “It definitely doesn’t hurt for you to do that, and I will always pay attention when that luscious ass is in my face. But I should have listened to you before. I’m sorry if you’ve felt ignored.”

“I just like spending time with you. I don’t mind you going off and doing whatever it is you do in there, but maybe sometimes include me too? You don’t have to shut me out of everything.”

He nods. “You’re right. And like I said, I promise I will stop from here on out.”

He leans down and kisses you while you run a hand through his soft hair. “I’m not sure why or how I love you as much as I do,” you sigh.

“Me either. But, god, am I glad you do.”

[inevitably-johnlocked]

hey, steph! how are you, like, genuinely? not the small talk. i wanna listen

Hey Lovely 💜🖤

I want to apologize for putting this off for so long... which should be a clue as to how I am actually doing.

Honestly? Not good, but I'm trying my best. It's been... a time. Will put under a cut for those who don't want to read about the tagged items.

TL;DR – my real life is a bit chaotic, and I hide a lot from y'all because I REALLY try not to be negative here since my blog is where I come to be happy AND because I am a very private person, but I try my best to just keep going day to day as the chaos settles down slowly.

I've got some good things coming though, so I hope a week's rest next week when I'm off (and will probably take a break from here too) will reset my brain.

Work has been insane, and is most of the cause of my mental distress for the past few months. From Easter until Canada Day Weekend at my job is lovingly referred to as "Silly Season" simply because of how on-the-fly, balls-to-the-wall our workload is until summertime downtime officially begins for us. Without disclosing too much, it's basically non-stop, long hours for me until one of the 3 break weeks we get during the this long stretch happens where, incidentally because of the nature of my job and the team I work on, it actually gets BUSIER for us.

It actually ended earlier than we expected this year (yesterday) and we'll be "quieter" until the end of September now. See an opportunity, I actually took next week off between the two long weekends because my mental health has taken a severe hit and I'm having trouble just... enjoying things? I'm haven't gamed or drew in a few weeks, and blogging and writing feels like a chore. I literally just come home, file this blog, reply to one or two asks, and then go to bed, and do it all over again the next day. Day in and day out, for 3 months. On weekends I have to force myself out of my apartment because I KNOW I will sink lower if I don't leave.

On top of that, my brain has convinced me that literally everyone hates me: friends, coworkers, family, you guys, my damned plants. I just feel very alone these days and... I'll be real here, I've almost abandoned this blog a few times in the past few months. I feel like I make fic lists that no one reblogs or likes and tell me they're all shit. I post my art and I barely break 20 notes. I write something and I get maybe 2 likes. I can't really answer any thoughtful asks because my mental state's been in the shitter for months. I desperately want to reply to the few sexuality asks I have and I physically can't. Being on my computer – after working ON a computer for my day job for 12 hour days everyday – feels like too much, so I try to limit my time on the blog now too.

I just try to keep carrying on, encouraged by the once-in-a-blue-moon testimonial ask I get thanking me for still being here. I thank YOU guys for reminding me that people still like coming here.

Stressed about money and food and rent just like everyone else, and just getting frustrated at other things.

And finally, my uncle (my dad's brother and my godfather) hasn't been doing well health-wise, and he's being moved to assisted living next week. His health has been declining since Easter, so it's been a bit of worrying time for relatives.

Having my therapist helps a lot. She talks me through a lot of my complicated feelings, my sense of self and ways to cope with my anxiety and stress. I'm talking to her again next week, so no worries, gang. As I said, I just keep on keeping on.

Some positivity though:

I booked next week off to try to just... recenter myself. To forget about everything and TRY to get back to doing the things I love. I will probably take a break from this blog as well during that time to limit my social-media time. It's not ideal but I need a break from my computer, I think.

I go to the gym a lot more these days, which has helped with the seething annoyance I constantly have at work. Usually feel better after it.

And because of the gym and getting out more, I've been slowly feeling better physically, better than I have since before 2019. The break from work is for the mental health, LOL.

I'm getting my hair recoloured next week. Can't afford it, really, but I just REALLY need to feel better about myself again, and I always feel so different when I colour my hair. I was doing so good for awhile. I want that again.

Anyway, I'm sorry to bombard y'all with my complicated mess of a brain. I really do appreciate you asking, so THANK YOU. I rarely get asked in real life if I am okay because I keep very private due to past people betraying my trust. And I don't like seeing people unhappy, so I feel if I tell people about my problems, then I feel I am a burden, so I just... continue existing.

Thank you for letting me be a burden just this once.

[slytherinshua]

HIT RESET

genre. fluff. comfort. warnings. jihoon had a bad day. he cuts his finger with a knife as well. food. kissing. not proofread. pairing. jihoon x reader. wc. 896. request. requested by 🌱 anon: for tws fluff with any of the 06's (an idea is: (dont have to write this specifically) maybe coming home after a long day? could be them or reader). a/n. went with jihoon for this :( he's so soft and sweet and lovely and omg i just wanna kiss his forehead and put him in my pocket.

“Ow! Darnit…” Jihoon held his hand up, examining the fresh cut on his finger with a wince. Why was everything going wrong today? He was late to work, brain foggy and frazzled the entire day. Usually he was good at picking up choreo quickly, but everything felt off that day. He was falling behind and getting tired so fast. He was mentally and physically exhausted by now, and hadn’t eaten anything since lunch at the company. Throwing together fried rice should’ve been an easy task. He’s not even sure how he managed to cut his finger while chopping veggies.

He rinsed out the wound, debating whether he should just give up on food altogether. You wouldn’t be happy about that, though. That was the other thing. You hadn’t been responding to his messages all day and he had no idea where you were. It was already getting late, but you still weren’t home. He had never realized how lonely the dorm felt when you weren’t there.

Just as he was searching through the cabinets for a box of bandaids, like magic, he heard the door open. He didn’t have high expectations. Given the luck today, he was almost 90% expecting it to be Dohoon walking through the door. But, when he peeked his head out of the bathroom door, he saw your face.

It was frankly incredible how quickly you made everything seem okay. The frustrating day was forgotten in an instant, and the cut on his finger was the last of his concerns. The only thing Jihoon cared about was falling into your arms as soon as possible.

You shared the sentiment, both of you pulling tight into a hug as soon as you dropped your bag. Jihoon’s scent relaxed your senses immediately as you buried your head into his hoodie. Placing a kiss to his neck as you pulled apart from the embrace, you smiled up at him.

“Missed you.” You mumbled, brushing aside some of his hair, thumb stroking over his cheek. He merely nodded and pulled you back into his arms with a long sigh.

“I’m so tired.” He whined into the crook of your neck, his arms holding you so tight that it was impossible to let go.

“Did you eat yet? I got takeout but it might be a bit cold… I’m sorry I took so long to get home, there was some delay—” Your explanation was cut off before you could finish, by Jihoon’s lips.

His kiss was desperate, hours of frustration bubbling down had finally cooled and then burst into overwhelming affection instead. He couldn’t contain it, he just loved you. How you always knew exactly what he needed, always apologized even when things weren’t in your control, and how you were always looking out for him. You always made everything better in a way no one else could. Jihoon knew he would’ve cried if you had talked on for any longer, so he took quicker action to stop you from making him fall any deeper in love than he already was. He was down bad, but maybe being down even worse wasn’t such a terrible thing.

You giggled when Jihoon pulled away, cupping his cheeks and pinching them softly. You warmed up the food that had gotten cold on the bus ride as Jihoon watched you from the corner of the kitchen like a little boy watching a magic show. You cleaned up the vegetables he had left out, washed the cutting board and knife, and got out bowls for both of you all at the speed of light.

“Did you cut your finger on the knife?” You asked, noticing the bandaid on his finger as you set down the bowls of food. He nodded, and you shook your head fondly, “I told you that you shouldn’t try to cook while your head isn’t clear…” 

“Why didn’t you text me today?” Jihoon pouted, feeling a lot better now that he was eating and you were right next to him. The entire day there had been this empty dull ache from your absence, and he hadn’t been able to get the feeling out of his head.

“I forgot to charge my phone last night. It was dead the whole day.” You cleared up, an apologetic smile on your face. “I promise it won’t happen again.”

“Good. I missed you terribly and Youngjae wouldn’t stop making fun of me for it. He said I was ridiculously in love with you... which is definitely true.”

“I hope I made up for it. I love you too… just in case you weren’t sure.” You looked up at the ceiling, suddenly feeling a little shy at your confession. It had been a while since you started dating Jihoon, of course. But he had always been so open with his feelings, while it took some courage for you to share how you felt. Acts of service was always your preferred love language, and Jihoon knew this well. He always felt loved by you, but every so often, it felt really nice to hear you say it.

“You made up for it completely.” He assured you, biting back a smile at just how cute you were. Despite the rocky starts to the day, Jihoon’s mind was in complete bliss by the time he went to bed. He was more in love than ever before.

↳ tws taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @eternalgyu,, @seunghancore,, @sobun1est,, @talkingsaxy,, @talking-saxy,,

@50-husbands,, @hursheys

[yourlastbraincell-kiwi]

A/N: Got another Carl Grimes imagine! But imagine Carl is teaching you how to roller skate this time.

Might be typos..

Pairing: Carl Grimes x Reader

——————🧟‍♀️——————

“Wait, wait!” I exclaimed, clutching onto Carls arm, so much so that I probably almost drew blood. “Don’t let me go!”

Whilst Carl and I were having a bit of a stroll down a road near Alexandria, Carl had stumbled upon a suitcase with roller skates in it. I was never good at using them, I did make progress with them, but I would most of the time end up with my behind, meeting the ground.

“I won’t.” He said, trying to hold me still, while balancing himself in the process. “Stay still!” I exclaim, and gives me that one look.

“I can’t stay still, if you’re holding onto me trying to stay still!” He says with a laugh, but it was caught in his throat, when we were about to fall over.

“Woah!” We exclaimed, clinging onto each other for dear life. “Okay, okay. Let’s prop you up against a tree.” I nod, as he slowly brings me over to one, and I quickly wrap my arms around it.

“You’re a visual learner, right?” He asked, seemingly tired, and I nod my head. “Maybe I could show you, and you can copy me?”

Yeah, they doesn’t seem to hard, he’ll show me how to pick up speed and stop, if I got to fast and need to stop before I hurt myself.

“Alright, now they you know the basics, I need you to try and do what I did, m’kay?”

I nod, “Yeah, I got that, but you didn’t show me one thing.”

Carl furrows his brows in confusion, racking his brain for what he could have possibly not shown me already. “What’s that?”

“How to let go of a tree, without falling while on roller skates.” I said, with a lopsided grin, trying to let go on my own, but fails and immediately grabs back onto the tree.

“Alright, I’m coming.” He takes his skates off, and puts his shoes back on, now with the intent on teaching me who to skate. He walks over to me, about to reach for my hand, but remembering what happened not to long ago, and instead tried wrapping his arms around my waist, and brought me to the road.

“Is this to help me, or did you just want a hug?” I teased, and he rolled his eye.

“It’s to help you.” He replied, holding me steady.

“Aw, my knight in shining armor, here to rescue me in this dire need of learning to travel, with wheeled booties, otherwise known as roller skates.” I said, really trying to keep from laughing.

“You done yet?”

“Not until you show me, where your noble steed is.” I replied, and he sighed loudly, going back to teaching me to skate.

“I’m going to let go of you now. Try and do what I showed you.” He said, slowly backing up, and I start to wobble. “I’m not going far, just within arms length.” I nod, and try and keep my legs steady.

I move one leg back and one in front and alternate between the two, to get used to the motion. “Good, now try and push yourself forward, with your back leg.” I do, but almost fall, due to me pushing myself a little two much.

I reset myself and then push again, with less force this time. Then I do it with my other leg and continued alternate.

“You’re getting good at this.” He said, and I smiled proudly at him, and make my way back over to him slowly, but surely.

“I do have one hell of a good teacher. Have you ever thought of being a teacher before?” He shrugged, unsure.

“It’s probably crossed my mind before, but that’s probably it.”

“Well, if the zombie apocalypse ever ends, that’s what you should major in. Teaching.”

“Okay, well how am I going to pay for it?”

“Well, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, okay?” I said, not even noticing that I had been skating on my own, as we talked.

“Look at me go!” I exclaimed, and slowly began to speed up.

“Careful, you’re still new to skating.” He said and I stopped moving and turned to him.

“How about… first one home gets the candy bar?”

“It’s my candy bar!”

“Well, now I’m racing you for it.” I said, getting into position.

“Come on, that’s not fair.”

“Ready…” I started and he rolled his eyes, picking up his skates and got into position.

“Set… Look a walker!” I exclaimed and he actually fell for it. And I quickly skated away to Alexandria.

“Hey! That’s cheating!” He exclaimed trying to catch up with me, whilst still on foot.

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Including Sunlight

When Skies Are Gray, Chapter 4

Series Masterlist             Next Chapter

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader 

summary: Frank’s life has reached a crossroads: he can either continue to seclude himself and pursue a dark, lonely future, or he can open himself up to connecting with someone again and maybe achieve happiness. Being the grump that he is, Frank has already committed to the lonely path, but his curious new neighbor might just turn that around. 

warnings: swearing, fluff, Frank having unhealthy coping mechanisms

a/n: I'm so sorry that this update is late, everyone! I've had a wacky month and it has completely thrown me off. Huge shout out to @xxdrixx for reminding me (again XD) to post what I'd written, and to my loves @madschiavelique and @gracethyomen for helping me plot the upcoming angst arc!!!

w/c: 5.9k

You hadn’t known Frank for very long, but that didn’t stop him from becoming a necessary fixture in your life. Needing Frank was similar to needing light, or fresh air. Sure, you could go without it for a bit, but it would drastically reduce the quality of your life. 

Two days into his “business trip” (which you assumed was a cover for some illegal shenanigans because what sort of freelance construction worker has business trips), you were missing Frank something awful, and it seemed like Max was too. Though you’d tried your best to stick to the existing routine Frank had explained to you, the dog would get mopey in the evenings, laying his head on your lap with a dramatic sigh as he stared longingly towards the door. 

Frank hadn’t so much as sent an emoji since his departure, a fact that highlighted his already glaring absence. You had no idea if he was even alive, but you refused to go down that path knowing you’d never make it out of that endless anxiety spiral. Hoping not to bother him while he was away, you’d refrained from reaching out. Until Max’s heavy sighs were too much for you to bear. 

“I’ll see what I can do, buddy.” You promised, pulling out your phone and taking a picture of his pouting face. 

Sending Max’s sulking portrait off to your stoic neighbor, you included a message. 

You: I think he misses you. Hope you made it safely. ❤️

You were about to set your phone down, not expecting him to respond, but your phone buzzed immediately. 

Frank: Sorry, bud. He behaving for you?

You: He’s being a perfect gentleman. Please come back to us in one piece. 

Frank: Cross my heart. 

Smiling at the fluttery sensation in your chest, you set your phone down and resumed petting the pitbull taking up residence on your lap. 

Come back to us. A poor imitation of your melodic voice played throughout his brain on a loop as he got settled in the motel and began recon. It had been hours since you’d texted him and Frank couldn’t stop thinking about it. Not that he could ever stop thinking of you; the only thing that had kept him going through the bland, cross-state drive was the knowledge that he had you to return to.

And didn’t that terrify him. The knowledge that he had forged a connection valuable enough to anchor him on bad days should have triggered his factory reset. Cut all ties, change home and job, never look back. But you made him weak–sapping the resolve out of him with your doe eyes and intoxicating personality. He’d never be able to leave you like that, even if his proximity to you would get you killed.

Gritting his teeth, he began disassembling his rifle for the umpteenth time, hoping the familiar rhythm would provide an opportunity for his mind to claw its way out of the paranoid spiral it was currently parachuting down. Because it would do him no good to imagine the ways this could all fall apart. The high that your genuine care ignited in him was a hard one to shake, and he craved your affection more than any drug. 

Frank was no stranger to being forgotten, hell, most days he wished for it. Disappearing into the shadows made his work easier and it had helped him prevent situations like this, like you, in the past. Yet here he was, three states away, feeling desired and significant because of four little sentences of fucking text. You were a goddamn miracle. 

Placing the final piece of his weapon back into its place, he drew his hands towards himself, examining them. Given the nature of his work, both legal and less than, the skin was rough and littered with impressive callouses. Streaks of gun oil, dirt, and general grime lingered on the pads of his fingers and under his nails, a testament to the indelicacy of his job. How could he allow himself to touch you with these hands?

How could the universe allow him to indulge in something so pure, after what he’d done? 

He’d given you his name, his real one, but there was no way you knew the extent of his crimes against the people in your city–if you did, you’d surely never speak to him again. Before meeting you, he’d never questioned his choices. Wiping the murderous, sex-trafficking and drug-dealing scum from the face of the Earth was his purpose, and he lived it with pride. Pulling the trigger, releasing bullet after bullet into the chest of some criminal douchebag, it was the only reason he had the energy to keep going after the loss of his family. 

But the violence, that he’d made peace with, it separated him from the rest of society, kept him from forming attachments with people as delicate as you. Not to mention, you valued an honesty he couldn’t provide, and a stable relationship would require it…not that he was intending on pursuing that with you. Right?

Sighing wearily, he pinched the bridge of his nose, heart pummeling his ribcage. You deserved to know the truth about who he was and what he’d done, but Frank wasn’t sure he possessed the courage to break that news to you, to risk losing you forever. 

Shifting uneasily on the fraying wicker chair, Frank studied a chip in the faux wood of the table he was seated at. Rubbing a thumb over the exposed plastic, he pondered his next move. His short recon session had verified Madani’s hunch that the arms dealers operated after dark, like most criminals, but sitting around the dingy motel room until then was a one-way ticket to insanity. 

As if his body was pitying his moment of unprecedented indecision, his stomach growled ferociously. Fuck, he could use a decent meal and a hot cup of coffee. Plucking his keys and handgun from the nightstand, he shoved his arms into a black canvas jacket before braving the outside world. 

Digging your glove-covered fingers into the laminated dough, you folded it over itself a few times before placing it back in its designated proofing bin to rise. Taking another lump of the yeasted mixture into your grasp, you savored the pleasant cushiony feeling beneath your hands as you worked, the slightly fermented smell of raw bread swirling around the kitchen as you flipped the mass. 

Your heart thumped serenely as you kneaded the dough at a steady pace, creating a beautiful rhythm you were more than familiar with. It was music, of a sort; the pulse in your ears acting as the bass while the cacophony of rattling spice jars and cracking eggshells composed unique melodies unlike anything else. 

Life was complicated, but food was simple. Customizing pastries and generating new recipes was an outlet for any emotion you could dream of. Tugging at the strands of dough helped soothe the tension in your shoulders, a symptom of the intense restlessness you’d been feeling since Frank left. Though his text had confirmed that he was alive, you couldn’t help but wallow in a feeling of gut-wrenching regret as you lived without him. If something happened to him out there, you’d never be able to tell him–

Shaking your head fiercely to clear the anxious thoughts from your mind, you raced to the walk-in, once again pouring your jittery energy into a recipe rather than letting your composure erode into nothing. Stabilizing the precarious tower of ingredients you’d stacked with your chin, you tread cautiously over to a clean station, unceremoniously dumping the contents onto the steel bench before popping your head out to the front. 

“Stace, you want somethin’ to eat?” You called to the girl, who was currently standing by the register on her phone. 

“What are you making?” She barely lifted her head with the question and her ambivalence made you snort. 

“Oh, you know, same old.”

With a small shrug, Stacy nodded. “Sure, why not.” 

Grinning, you ducked back into the kitchen and popped the lid off of the industrial blender, quickly whipping up two vibrantly colored and impeccably garnished bowls for the pair of you. Passing a spoon to Stacy, you smiled as she dug in eagerly.

“What, you didn’t eat breakfast this morning?” You giggled, reveling in the way her eyes lit up as she ate. 

“Had a feeling you’d be cooking up a storm today.” Stacy replied, tilting her head at you knowingly. “You tend to do that when you’re mopey, and I’m never opposed to a free meal.”

Rolling your eyes, you huffed in defiance. “I’m not ‘mopey’.” 

“No?” Your dark-haired friend smirked. “That’s why you’re staring at that stupid bowl like it killed your family?” 

Ignoring her pointed look, you angled the bowl slightly differently before pulling out your phone. 

“It’s a pretty meal. I wanted to take a picture.” You reasoned, snapping a few photos of the deep violet mixture. 

“To send to lover boy?” Stacy snorted, wiggling her eyebrows at you. 

“No! I mean, maybe, I guess. I mean—“ You spluttered and Stacy laughed boisterously. “Shut up!!” Pouting, you shoved your phone back into the pocket of your apron and stuck a spoon into your breakfast. 

“C’mon, princess, don’t let my teasing interrupt your pitiful flirting attempts. I’m sure he wants to hear from you.” Stacy’s expression was nonchalant, as always, but her gaze softened when your shoulders slumped. “I’m serious. He’s like, embarrassingly into you.” 

“I think you might be confused about which of us is ‘embarrassingly into’ the other.” You whined, burying your face in your hands. 

“Oh you’re pathetically head over heels for him too, that’s why you have no game.” 

Scoffing, you shoved at her shoulder. “You know what, I don’t need to be insulted like this. Get out of my kitchen.”

“It’s not insulting, it’s true!” She chuckled, eating the remaining few bites of her food as you struggled to force her out the double doors. 

“Out, out, out!” You panted, finally getting her across the threshold. 

The whoosh of air from the batwing doors blew stray hairs from your face, giving you pause. Did it matter why you reached out to him? He seemed to appreciate it…

“Fuck it.” 

Frank turned the cheap off-white mug in his hands, letting the quickly fading warmth seep through the material and into his palms as he looked out the streaky window. A gray hue had settled over the rural town he was camped out in, courtesy of the building storm on the horizon. The clouds mimicked his mental state, growing darker by the minute as the world remained stagnant. 

A low buzz caught his attention, his hand shooting out to stop his phone from vibrating off of the table. Flicking the screen open, his heart swelled with affection, like a ray of sunshine peeking through the barrier in the sky. 

You: *image* It’s official, I’m becoming a hipster. I was more concerned about this photo than eating my breakfast.

Not attempting to hide his smile, Frank shoved his empty cup aside to free his thumbs. 

Frank: Well, it looks so good, I might have to forgive you. What is it?

You: A smoothie bowl, very easy to make and quite tasty.

Frank: Never had one of those before. Looks good though, sunshine.

You: Thanks, sweetheart. I’ll make you one sometime.

Frank inhaled deeply, imagining that you were nearby and he could smell your soft vanilla soap. The thought of you cooking for him upon his return warmed his heart while simultaneously cracking it in two. He missed you dearly. Drawing his forearms into his chest, he took a picture of his own food, frowning at the grainy quality of the picture as it sent.

Frank: It ain’t as pretty as yours, but I’m eating breakfast myself.

The remnants of a stack of bland pancakes and some tough bacon paled in comparison to the gorgeous, speckled smoothie thing you’d sent him. Why it was in a bowl and not a cup, he wasn’t sure, but clearly you knew what you were doing so who was he to judge? A few seconds passed and Frank briefly wondered if he’d said something wrong. Before he could preemptively apologize, another bubble appeared on the screen.

You: Glad you are able to feed yourself without my help. I was starting to wonder…

Frank: Oh shut up, you goof. I do miss your cooking though.

You: Just my cooking?

His fingers hovered over the glass display, his brain scrambling for a response that didn’t reveal just how gone he was for you. In the end, he couldn’t find one.

Frank: Not just your cooking, honey. I have some work to do, but take care of yourself and Max for me, will you? 

You: Of course, Frankie. Have a good day :)

Frank: You too, sunshine.

Clicking the power button on his phone, Frank flipped it over, settling his head against his rough hands and massaging his forehead. Coward.

The shrill ringing of his alarm shattered the remnants of his uneasy slumber. Whipping his arm out from under the sheets, he stopped the piercing noise with a frustrated growl. Sitting up was a process, thanks to the new bullet wounds in his shoulder and hip—a true testament to how sideways yesterday night had gone. Madani’s brief had implied that this would be a cut and dry operation. Get in, confirm the sale, contact her team, leave. He’d been given strict orders to not shoot unless absolutely necessary. 

Which was a great plan, in theory. Frank was more than on board with it, even if the whole “no shooting” thing lengthened the process. If it kept him on Madani’s good side, and still managed to get him home before Lisa’s birthday, he could live with it. 

Apparently, the rookie member of Madani’s team was not so thrilled with Frank “stealing” so much of the glory. After Frank’s recon session and subsequent confirmation of the sale, the former Marine was about to call for backup when a scrawny 20-something kid darted into the dark warehouse after the arms dealers, holding nothing but a goddamn glock. Anticipating bloodshed, Frank was grumbling and sprinting after him before the gunshots started. 

Pulling the kid out by the straps of his ill-fitting bullet-proof vest was a task Frank managed by the skin of his teeth, procuring two moderate injuries in the process. Of course, the knowledge that the FBI was on their tail sent the arms dealers into a frenzy. Frank was sure they’d crossed state lines before Madani was even done screaming. Honestly, he half expected the poor woman to have steam coming out of her ears–she’d cussed at the kid with words even Frank considered impolite. 

Not that he could blame her, he was fuming all the same, especially when Madani had explained that he wasn’t off the hook for the mission and should head back to the motel to await further instructions. As if he was reliving it, the conversation that followed played in his head on a loop, their screaming match echoing off the walls of his brain. 

“For fuck’s SAKE, Madani, I did what you wanted–why should I be punished for the stupidity of this asshole?”

“Oh, he’ll be dealt with, believe me. But the agreement was to get Roshev and Miller into my custody. Not give my team a half-assed warning and head back to New York scot free.”

“Half-assed–you’re fucking joking. I had to ditch the objective to rescue YOUR DAMN AGENT.”

“Go back to your room, Frank. I won’t ask again.”

“You’re not–”

“That’s an ORDER, Castle.”

So here he was: waking up on a shitty mattress, his skin and hair still streaked with dirt and blood (because the crappy water pressure and freezing temperature had infuriated him to the point that he’d cut his shower short after cleaning his wounds), in pain and in desperate need of a better cup of coffee than anyone around here was capable of brewing. 

On top of that, it was his dead daughter’s 18th birthday–a fact that hung over him like a cloud of poisonous gas, slowly squeezing the air from his lungs, and he was powerless to stop it. He wanted to scream, to cry, to grieve for her, to do something, anything–but instead he was fucking stuck here, beneath Madani’s thumb until she tired of him. 

It was naive to think that he’d be home today, maybe drinking coffee that you had made specifically for him, bringing flowers to the cemetery, taking Max for a walk, trying to have a quiet day in Lisa’s memory instead of waiting around to deal with two scumbags who got paid to arm other criminals. He should have just shot them.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes with a rough hand, he stalked to the bathroom to clean up–given that a man covered in blood would probably scare the poor waitress at the diner down the street shitless. As he was rubbing a towel through his hair, his phone buzzed–presumably with a curt message from Madani about something else he’d done wrong. Groaning internally, he braced himself for another argument, but it never came. 

Instead, his phone had an unopened message from you. Flicking open the home screen, he felt a weight fall off his shoulders as he pulled up the photo you’d attached. 

It was a beautiful picture of you holding a basket of vibrantly colored cherries in the midst of some sort of farmer’s market. Your delicate features were highlighted by an array of pinks and oranges, courtesy of the sunrise in the background. Your smile was bright, your eyes sparkling as you beamed at the camera. 

Your first message was a simple explanation of your morning activities. 

You: It’s market day! I bought these gorgeous cherries to make some tarts. I’ll save you one ;)

As he was rereading the message, allowing his general irritation to fade as thoughts of you flooded his brain, his phone vibrated again. 

You: Thinking of you today. I’m just a text away if you need anything ❤️

Sinking down onto the motel bed, his throat constricted as he processed the sentiment. He was surprised that you remembered today was hard for him, even more so that you offered to be a line of support. But that was exactly who you were, wasn’t it? Someone who cared so deeply for the people around her, and for some fucking reason that included Frank. 

Typing and retyping a response to you, Frank blew out a breath. He felt almost…jittery. 

Frank: Thanks, sunshine. That means a lot. I’m looking forward to that cherry tart when I get back. 

You: I’ll make you as many as you want, Frankie. 

Lips twitching, he imagined you whirling around your kitchen in one of your signature patterned dresses making him a special batch of pastries. His heart squeezed painfully; your absence was taking a toll on him that he had not expected. Before he could consider his next message to you, Madani’s number flashed on the screen, indicating an incoming call. Lips curling into a silent snarl, he answered. 

“What, Madani?” He rumbled out.

“Well, good morning to you too, sunshine.” Her response wasn’t meant to dig under his skin, she simply meant it as a superficial jab, but the inclusion of the pet name he associated with you ignited a white hot anger in his gut, feral and hungry. 

“The fuck do you want,” He bit out. 

“Watch your tone, Castle. Remember who owes whom a favor here.”

Rolling his eyes, he brought out a more polite tone. “Yes, ma’am.”  

She huffed across the line, “Fuck you too. We found them. I’ll send the coordinates now.” 

“Lookin’ forward to it.” He ended the call.

Stretching your legs as best you could beneath the hefty pitbull, you sighed. 

It had been hours since Frank’s last text and you were not handling it well–the image of the little typing bubble on his side of the text chain haunting your every moment. Logically, the presence of those three flashing dots just meant he had started to type something and then forgot or had something else to attend to, but that knowledge didn’t quell the anxiety growing in your chest. 

He was out there, doing god knows what, on his daughter’s 18th birthday, presumably alone and hurting–and there was nothing you could do but wait. And cook him a lasagna of course. Which you had, giving your apartment the pleasant aroma of onions, tomatoes, and ricotta cheese as the dish baked. 

Your consciousness vibrated with the tenacity of an anxious chihuahua, listless with boredom and concern about your sweetheart of a neighbor. Squirming out from under Max’s head, you chuckled as the sleepy pitbull huffed in annoyance. “Sorry, bubba. I need to move around.”

In the final 30 minutes that you lasagna baked, you managed to throw together some simple pastry dough and pull out the small basket of cherries from your fridge. Popping one of the scarlet fruits into your mouth, you began to pluck the remaining stems off before removing their pits. Once they’d been sufficiently prepped, and your hands were adequately smattered with droplets of maroon fruit juice, you dumped them unceremoniously into a pot to create a compote. It didn’t necessarily pair well with lasagna, but you’d promised Frank a cherry pastry. 

Originally, you’d considered making him a cherry basil frangipane, identical to the ones you’d stacked in the bakery’s display case that morning. But, after the day he’d probably had, you figured he’d want something…less intricate. The compliment you’d given him during his first visit to the cafe still held true–Frank was simple and honest. He wasn’t difficult to please, but fancy words and expensive ingredients alone wouldn’t cut it. The food had to be good. So, you pulled out all the stops, making a recipe that you hadn’t made since you lived with Leo: cherry turnovers. 

Unlike your wonderful neighbor, the majority of patrons in the city needed a reason besides quality to continue giving you business. Elaborately decorated pastries and unique flavor profiles were what kept the cafe in business, so you hadn’t tried selling a modest dessert like these since your first few weeks at the Rainy Day Bakery. It was familiar, comforting even. You hoped it would bring Frank similar satisfaction. 

Trading the bubbling lasagna for a tray of triangle-shaped pastries, you brushed your hands on your hips. Re-covering the pasta dish, you hurriedly cleaned your kitchen, wiping away the traces of flour and sugar that inevitably dusted your countertops after you baked. As you rinsed out the mixing bowl, a high-pitched whimper popped the bubble of silence surrounding your apartment. Sitting rigidly by the door to your apartment, Max’s dark eyes pleaded with you. 

“Gosh, you’re right, bud! It is dinner time. I’m sorry, I got carried away. Let’s go get you set up, huh?” 

Snatching Frank’s spare key from your counter, you attached Max’s thick leash to his collar and jogged him back to his apartment, adding an extra handful of kibble as an apology for making him wait. Stroking his short fur a few times, you slipped the key into your pocket, scurrying back over to your apartment to grab the turnovers before they caught fire and reduced the building to ashes. 

Carefully balancing the pastries and lasagna in your hands, you marched back over to Frank’s apartment. Pretty soon, and with only one close call, the food was lined up on Frank’s countertop to cool. Brushing your hands together, you admired your handiwork. 

“Please tell me ya haven’t been sittin’ here with the door open all night.” 

The gruff voice behind you made you jump in shock. Whirling around, your fear morphed into pure joy as you took in the ruggedly handsome man before you.

“Shit, Frankie! You snuck up on me.” You practically squealed, rushing to hug him in greeting. He grunted as you slammed against him, hissing as you squeezed your arms around his hips. Eyes widening in realization, you started to pull back. “Oh fuck, you’re hurt, aren’t you? I’m so sorry, I–” 

Before you could unwrap your arms from his body, his broad hands splayed across your back, muscular arms tugging you back against his firm chest. 

“‘M fine, honey.” Came Frank’s soothing rumble. You felt him press a kiss to your crown before he buried his face in your hair. “Missed you like crazy, sunshine.” His voice was soft, as if he didn’t want you to hear the darling confession. 

“God, I missed you too, Frankie.” You chuckled, your eyes prickling with tears, your body in awe of your own honesty. With his stubbled chin atop your head and his thick arms around your waist, you felt entirely sheltered by his body. He’d created a bubble of safety and serenity for you, as he always did. 

Remaining in his arms, you shifted out from under his head to examine him. Though you’d felt it across your scalp, his beard was noticeably overgrown and in need of a trim. His hair greasy and mussed, streaked with grime, just like his face. The skin of his face was tinged red, with blush or sunburn you weren’t quite sure, and the bags under his eyes were deep. In spite of yourself, your bottom lip stuck out, brow pinching in concern. Bringing a hand up to cradle his face, you stroked a thumb gently over his cheek, careful to avoid the sizeable bruise across it. 

“Oh sweetheart. What did they do to you?” You asked quietly, feeling choked up as the hulking man nuzzled into your touch, his eyes falling shut with a weary sigh. 

“It’s nothin’.” He murmured, his words worn out—as if he’d spoken them so many times they’d lost all meaning. 

“Then it shouldn’t take long to get you cleaned up.” You smiled, the gesture not making it to your eyes. Standing on your tiptoes, you pressed a kiss to his prickly cheek before unwinding his arms from your waist. He started to retract his arms, to tuck them against his sides, but you caught his fingers with yours, grasping his hands tenderly. “Come sit, sweetheart. You must be exhausted.” 

The poor man didn’t argue. Instead, he let you tug him to the couch and sit him down, his lips twitching with fond amusement when you tucked a blanket around his shoulders. “This ain’t mine.” 

You shrugged, the hint of a smirk tugging at your lips. “I redecorated.” 

“I was barely gone three days.” Frank snorted, rolling his eyes at you. 

Poorly stifling a smile as you pretended to be annoyed, you spoke as though it was obvious why you’d done it. “Your apartment is freezing, Frank. Did you want me and Max to get hypothermia while you were gone?” 

He huffed a laugh. “Still bossy.” Letting his head tip back to meet the spine of the couch, his eyes fluttered shut. Your cool touch manifested on his cheek once again. 

“Do you have a first aid kit, Frankie?” 

“Under the bathroom sink.” He answered, his words slurred ever so slightly with fatigue. He received a slight squeeze of his arm in response, your warm fingers leaving a lasting imprint on his skin. 

A year ago, he would never have let himself have this—a moment of peace. Time to let his guard down, to trust someone else to ease his pain. But the combination of his aching body, his heavy eyelids, and your fussing nature had him letting go of a tension he’d held for years, and he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

Soft footsteps alerted him to your presence. Though his eyes were closed, he could hear you shuffle into a crouch, your chest positioned at his knees. 

Stifling a groan, he straightened his posture, wincing slightly as the motion tugged on his day old stitches. His eyes immediately focused on your adorable form in front of him, your own gaze roaming over the various bruises covering his visible skin. Dipping a washcloth into a small bowl of water, you gently lifted his wrist, washing away the dried blood on his knuckles. As you worked, a small river of dirty water–tinged pink from his scarlet blood–dripped down his fingers and onto your dress. 

He watched the trio of droplets fall, time slowing as if to highlight the moment that reignited his anxiety. Splashing across the multicolored fabric, the liquid seeped into your skirt, staining it as you held his hand. Your kindness was endless, and his presence was tarnishing it, ruining it, ruining you. 

Jerking his hand backwards, he cradled it close to his chest. “Lemme do this. I’m gettin’ blood on your pretty dress, sunshine.” He started to stand but you shook your head, gently pushing him back into the cushion and taking his hand in your grasp once again. 

Looking directly into his eyes with an intensity that you always seemed to carry, your lips curved into a small smile. “Frank, it’s just a dress, sweetheart. I promise it’s ok. Let me help you?” With your free hand, you stroked a wayward strand of his hair off of his clammy forehead.

Despite the fact that your gaze conveyed your desire to continue patching him up regardless of his answer, your tone was stilted–giving him the option to deny your help. 

“You’re too sweet for your own damn good, you know.” He sighed, letting his arm go limp in your grip to let you finish what you’d started. 

“Well, you’re too stoic for yours. Makes us quite a pair, doesn’t it?” Your eyes glimmered roguishly, your smirk encouraging him to roll his eyes. 

“Whatever you say, sunshine.” He snorted, knowing full well that you were right. 

You made quick work of tidying up the split skin across his knuckles, moving on to the bruised skin of his cheeks. 

“Didn’t know you were growing this out, Frankie.” You quipped, tugging gently on the untamed curls of his beard. 

His lips twitched, revealing a glimpse of his teeth as he smiled. “Wasn’t plannin’ on it. Whaddya think?” 

Making a great show of shuffling back to study his face, you tapped your chin. “I like it.” 

“You do? Last time it was this long, everyone thought I was some sort of hipster.” 

Shrugging, you focused your eyes back on the cloth in your hand. “I always like how you look, Frankie.” 

Frank’s breath caught in his throat, unable to quite make it to his lungs. Thankfully, he could blame his lack of response on the fact that you were rinsing the injuries on his face, rather than his own lack of emotional intelligence. 

Eventually, you heaved out a breath, looking at him with a raised brow. “Did you want me to look at whatever’s bothering you here?” You asked, gesturing to his hip. 

“If I told ya I have no idea what you mean, would ya call me on it?” He grumbles, not quite sure how he’d feel revealing that much of himself to you. 

You thought for a minute. Nodding once, you answered. “I’d roll my eyes, but respect your desire for privacy.” 

Swallowing thickly, he huffed a nervous laugh. “Fair enough.” With two fingers, he tugged his loose shirt up and over his head, not bothering to disguise his grimace as he rotated his injured shoulder. Pulling the waistband of his pants down an inch, he suddenly felt a surge of fear, not sure how you’d react to seeing his array of scars. 

Inhaling sharply, you traced around his stitches with a finger. “Oh, Frank.” 

“It’s—“

“It’s not nothing.” Taking his hands again, your intensity returned. “You mean something to me. Seeing you hurt…it’s never nothing, ok? Not to me.”

A lump formed in his throat, he nodded as he tried to swallow it down. “Sorry.” 

“No apology necessary,” You squeezed his hands, placing a tender kiss on the raw knuckles of his right hand before grabbing a roll of bandages from your pile of supplies. “I’m not upset that you’re hurt. I just don’t want you to be afraid to lean on someone else for a change.” 

You dressed his larger wounds in contemplative silence, your soft skin a welcome change to the rough contact he was used to. 

“How’d ya learn to patch people up, sunshine? Playin’ nurse for other neighborhood menaces behind my back?” 

You giggled. “You’re my only patient currently. Cross my heart. I’ve just gotten used to first aid after injuring myself my whole life.” 

Bringing a hand up to cup your cheek, Frank’s brow furrowed. “Injurin’ yourself? What do you mean?” 

Eyes widening in realization, you shook your head. “Not intentionally! I’ve just been a klutz for as long as I can remember.” Chuckling sheepishly, you added, “Takes a toll every once in a while.” 

Laughing with relief, he traced a finger along your jaw as he withdrew his hand from your face. “Ah, gotcha. Christ, had me scared there, pretty girl.” 

Your face flushed with heat at the new pet name. You tied off the fresh bandages and stood up. “You should be good to go, unless you’ve got any other areas that need to be looked at?” 

Blushing as his mind traveled to less innocent places, he shook his head. “I’m fine, honey. Thank you. Really.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.” You winked at him, heading to the kitchen to dispose of the dirty water and trash. As you rinsed the last of the grime from the bowl you’d used, Frank moaned behind you. 

“Holy shit.” His words were mumbled around a mouthful of pastry, the other half of a cherry turnover in his hand. Swallowing with another horrifically attractive noise, he lifted the dessert in a gesture. “Did you make these?” 

“Yes, but they were for after dinner!” You scolded, your smile completely betraying your feigned annoyance. “Cherry turnovers. Do you like them?”

“No, they’re awful.” Frank deadpanned, shoving the rest of the pastry into his mouth ungracefully. You giggled, uncovering the lasagna before he could reach for another turnover. 

“Would you like some actual food, you heathen?” You asked through stray laughs. 

“You made me a lasagna?” 

“Thought you might want some comfort food today. So I made two of my favorites.” 

“Thank you,” Frank spoke your name gravely, as if it was a prayer. “God, sunshine, I dunno what to say.” Your heart ached as his voice cracked around the words.

“You don’t need to say anything, handsome. Just eat, so you can rest soon, yah?” 

Frank couldn’t help but let the tension he’d been carrying for days roll off his back like droplets of water, his eyes crinkling with fondness as you puttered around his kitchen as if you had it memorized. You plated two hearty servings of lasagna and took a seat next to him, handing him a fork. 

“I’m glad you made it back safely.” You smiled, your gaze more timid than he’d ever seen it. 

“Me too, sunshine.” After placing a kiss on your forehead, he speared the fork into the food on his plate, taking a massive bite. 

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me.” Frank groaned, beaming at you. 

Laughing brightly, you took a bite of your own, overjoyed to have Frank to eat with again. 

Thanks for reading! As always, comments and reblogs are incredibly appreciated.

Taglist: @cheshirecat484@xxdrix@smhnxdiii@mattmurdocksstarlight@danzer8705

[daydreaming-scheming-demon]

i know undertale is like, almost a decade old at this point, even older if you count the kickstarter’s age, but i still cant get over how flowey/asriel is literally such a cool fucking character. he’s like a player that plays a game too many times and stops being able to see the characters as people as their brain sees them acting the same and doing the same things on each replay and how he loses his sympathy bc of that. and this makes him come across as a typical pure evil antagonist at first, but then you learn his backstory, and it’s all just, aghhhhhhhh. and then you learn in the genocide route that he helped people at first, he used to be kind, but he got bored, and how that contrasts the player on the genocide route with flowey, the genocide route where the player is now in the role of the pure evil villain, just like flowey was.

and also i love how the guy is literally just an edgy kid. like, he comes across as an adult at first, but the guy’s just like one of those cynical little kids who only wants to see the worst in everything. and how that’s portrayed in the true pacifist route where he gives himself this edgy name and transformation sequence that feels like something a kid would come up with. tho the idea that he’s a kid does kinda come into question when you consider all the resets he’s been on, but even still he never got to grow up.

i wanna hug this lil dude so badly, even in flower form, he deserves a hug.

i fucking love this dude, he’s kinda like a pure evil antagonist, but actually has a backstory that makes you feel sorry for him and make his actions feel understandable, even if he can feel like some insane cartoon supervillain, his actions still feel reasonable with his backstory in mind. it’s like taking the idea of an unrealistically evil villain and asking yourself what couldve possibly made them that way

and his whole life as asriel with chara as a sibling. aghhhhhhhh, i love it.

and how in the beginning of the game he probably hasnt even realized his powers are missing yet, and that may just be a small thing but i find it a fun small recontextualization. that in this moment where you seem like you’re falling into his trap, he doesnt even realize that you have far more power over him than he thinks. and something i never even really thought about for a while is how he probably had a bit of a mental breakdown realizing his powers are missing sometime between your first and second time meeting him, and how he probably had to get himself all ready to talk with you again and come across as confident and threatening. like, there’s no way he just brushed off the fact that his powers are missing so easily, his plan to use you to retrieve the souls probably helped him feel better, but there’s no way this dude just brushed off losing the powers he’s been relying on for who knows how long so easily. he definitely got all angry and scared at his missing powers sometime between your first and second meeting, for at least a little while.

honestly, i feel like undertale didnt have enough of him. he deserved more screentime imo. which is why i was really happy to see his characterizationin done so well in undertale yellow, i fucking loved how that game built on his character. and his whole boss fight in that game somehow outdoing his boss fights in the original game. and how a lot of his attacks involve self harm in some way. and how he acts as the save points for the game so you get to hear a lot more from him throughout the game. i feel like undertale yellow gave me some characterization for him that i really fucking needed.

genuinely one of my favourite characters in all of fiction. would love to have a conversation with this lil guy.

[slippinninque]

✨📱Kiss me Through the Phone 📱✨

Fontaine x black!fem!reader

Warnings/content: fluff, cursing, mentions of smoking/weed, long fic. Black!Fem!Reader, ramblings

He treated his phone like the tool it was. There were few apps for entertainment, and the necessary apps to stay updated on what was going on in his streets.

Fontaine was never one for taking pictures until he met you. Now he has a nice collections of you on his phone.

Particularly, there is a folder of photos in his phone dedicated to your stuffed face. You turned full hamster when you were hungry and he thought it was adorable. This is top secret.

You have a folder of photos in your phone dedicated to catching him sleeping during movies. From cozy shots of him latched on to you like a giant octopus to the bent neck, open mouthed snooze. What started off as a cache of evidence became an absolute delight. This was also top secret.

Fontaine didn't save many numbers. Due to his business, the less information he made available the better. You swore his memory was his super power.

The first picture you ever sent Fontaine he'd swore he would get framed. It was purposely unflattering with an expression he didn't think your pretty face could make. It was sent to him by mistake but made him nearly choke on his '40 and he knew then he needed more of you.

------

A little bit of sun was all the Glen needed for it's parks to come alive with get-togethers and hang-outs. That was the whole reason you and your girls were out in the first place, looking to get some warmth before the heat vanished again,

You were sitting close to each other sharing whispers and smoke. It was a lovely day though the breeze was relentless. Fontaine was already unzipping his jacket when you shivered for the umpteenth time.

The sight of him was poetic. Leaning up a bit just to whip his jacket over your shoulder, the sun taking it's place immediately with delicacy. Fontaine's face was soft at least enough for his golds to glimmer between full lips.

He was gilded in the setting sun as he stepped a bit closer to zip you properly into the jacket. You felt like you were staring, but you couldn't look away.

"There we go," he grinned at you as he passed the blunt to you and resetting your brain, "Wear it better than me."

"Better stop before this hoodie come up missing." You took a puff and laughed a bit,

"Y'know how clothes just be adventuring off on their own..."

"Is that so? You wanna takin' down my number so you can let a nigga know if his thermals come knocking at your door?"

"Your-your weed is good, so I suppose I'll be neighborly."

He laughed and you couldn't even feel the full thrush of embarrassment at your fumbling. You could only shake your head at yourself as you handed over your phone.

Fontaine typed in his number and you traded the blunt for your phone. He didn't save it at first and you added him to your contacts with the quickness.

Just as you always did, first thing that came to mind--

Sunglow.

Quickly after that you keep you eyes to your keyboard as you sent Fontaine a wave with a smiley face.

-------

You jerked awake, hearing hard knocking and loud voices seeping in through your cracked window.

Heart pounding as you stared up at the ceiling, you scrambled for your phone to see it was well past midnight. The TV was still going from when you fell asleep on the couch, but it wasn't enough to drown out the slurring call of your name.

Clutching your throw blanket, you swallowed as much of your panic as possible. It was your neighbor, drunk again and "confused" despite it being the third time this month.

As much as you tried to be understanding, it made you more than uncomfortable. The man was all grins and half-apologetic in the daytime, insisting that their front doors were nearly twins despite there being 3 houses between them. His roommates thought it was funny and made a few comments about how you even resembled his ex.

He even asked what the issue was with letting him linger until he sobers up enough to go home.

The next knocks were thunderous and got you out of bed. You weren't keen on opening the door or even speaking to him, it would only make it worse...

Tearing up as you heard the stumbling and nonsense filter through your door, you chewed your lip as you slowly typed out a text.

[Are you up?]

You winced. It sounded so dirty to you at the moment but you were scared and tired--

The sound of your ringer startled you enough to answer.

"Um, hi, sorry." You crept to your room in the dark, afraid to turn on the lights, "Did-Did I wake you?"

Fontaine made a soft noise, "Ain't doin' shit but runnin' to the store. What's got you up so late?"

You struggled for words for a moment but hissed when the banging came again. This time it sounded like he was hitting the front room's window.

"What the fuck is that?"

Fontaine's tone broke you, a sob stuttering out as you told him everything. You curled up and tried to make sense but a headache was beginning to grow.

"I'm comin', sweet heart, I'm on my way." Fontaine's voice was soothing in his promise, "Stay on the phone with me."

"Okay, 'm so sorry."

"Don't be. Just keep listening to me, you hear me? 'M on my way."

Fontaine's voice flowing through that little speaker was your life raft. You did as you were told, listening to the sound of him getting into his car and driving.

Your neighbor went quiet and it knowing where he was was worse. Imagining him stalking around the perimeter of your home, looking for things to "accidentally" break, ways into your home, would he do something to your car? In the dark feeling small, you quietly hoped that there were no red lights to keep Fontaine long.

The call ended and before your panic to dwell to hysteria, there was commotion from outside your house.

There was hollering and another terrible clattering noise. Running back into the living room, you peeked through the blinds with shaky hands.

Fontaine had your neighbor on the ground, bent up and yelping next to your overturned trash can. You could only see the back of him as he wrangled your neighbor.

You felt rooted to the spot, watching from somewhere else as you watched the terror that's been stealing your peace get the ragdoll treatment. Fontaine tossed him here and there, his voice furious and low.

Fontaine hauled your neighbor up enough to walk him down the street and out of sight. Still shaking, you took a seat on the couch and tried to pull yourself together.

You aren't sure how long you say there with anxiety eating away at your stomach. When your phone rang again, you hurried to answer.

"Hello, hi..."

"C'mon to the door, it's okay now."

You peeled yourself off the couch and went to the door, flinging it open but still unable to look him in the face. He was wearing only sweats and a grey long sleeved shirt. Quietly letting him in, you couldn't stop the tears when they returned.

Fontaine told you that he made absolutely sure that your neighbor knew what his porch looked like. You could only imagine what he meant by that.

"Don't cry anymore, you're okay now," Fontaine came near you, hand hovering your shoulders in a mimic of touch. You leaned forward until you could feel the softness of his shirt.

"You did good, I'm glad you let me know. Promise he ain't gonna bother you anymore, trust thayt."

Wrapping your arms around his waist, you asked if he would mind staying until morning. Fontaine cupped your face and ran his thumbs along your stinging cheeks.

"Of course."

He went toward the couch but you pulled lightly, leading him to your bedroom. Fontaine was quiet and you still sniffled as you crawled into bed. You only had to look at him and Fontaine hurried to follow.

Cuddled close and worn out, your nerves cooled enough for exhaustion to wander in.

"You can always call me. Just know that, yeah? If you're scared....call me. Don't matter what it is, I'm gonna be there."

Grateful, you could only nod again. Fontaine's hand splayed along your back and to the sound of his steady heartbeat, sleep finally came back for you.

------

"It's probably somewhere in the car," you said to Fontaine as you searched your bag, "I think I left my lip chap anyway."

Fontaine paused in searching himself and pockets to give you a grateful nod.

" 'Preciate you."

You tossed a wink over your shoulder, turning to jog the short distance between the porch and Fontaine's car. He stayed behind, sorting the grocery bags more comfortably to key into the house.

The car was still unlocked and you whipped out your cell, dialing Fontaine's phone to hone in on its hiding spot.

I'll be your groupie, baby (oh whoa)

'Cause you are my superstar (ha, superstar, yeah)

No way. You nearly knocked your head trying to look beneath the driver's seat. Legs nearly hanging out the car as you laid as flat as you could. You were cheek to seat as you scrabbled beneath the seat, the song playing on.

I'm your number one fan, give me your autograph

Sign it right here on my heart (I'll be)

Pushing aside some loose change and grabbing Fontaine's phone, you went to decline your call when your eyes caught on the screen.

My Baby

The big softie, giving you butterflies and he isn't even near you. Wriggling and utterly smitten, you couldn't believe how much you liked this man.

Fontaine gave you such shit for having a crush, but then he goes and lets his homies hear your favorite song every time you call.

Grabbing carmex from the cupholder you could finally wriggle out of the car. Closing the door, you turned and saw Fontaine had been holding the door waiting for you the entire time.

----------

Fontaine texted and you sighed, wishing that you could see him in person. Sometimes the phone just wasn't enough.

Your phone vibrated again, the notification sound pinging through the earbud in your ear. Music definitely made the time spent pouring over technical details a bit more managable.

Fontaine's texts were little nuggets of gold you hoarded through the shift. An aimless sort of conversation that didn't make you feel pressured to answer so soon.

He sent you a picture of a stay cat you looked out for, hunched over what looked to be a half of sub sandwich. You sent him a picture of a goose sitting in one of the managerial parking spots at with all the attitude of a Cadillac.

Only you and a few other ladies jumped at the chance for a short shift the following day, but of course it mean sudden overtime. You glowered at the dwindling piles straight tab files and binders.

There were still records to edit and submit. Then a well deserved long-weekend after to look forward to.

Your phone vibrated in your lap, the only safe place for it since your desk turned into a disaster of binders, white-out, and sticky notes.

Sunglow: [come out side]

[I'm not at home remember?]

Sunglow: [never said you were]

You frowned at your phone. What the hell was he talking about?

You jumped when you heard the blare of a horn. It echoed in the empied parking lot and you were sure you aren't the only one who was leaving their desk to check.

Your cubicle had one of the best views of the parking lot and a few streets over, you put your face to the glass at the same time another horn sounded.

In all his glory, Fontaine leaned up against this car with his phone visibly in hand and the other tucked inside to rest on the steering wheel.

Surprised and fumbling back to your cubicle, you managed to dial Fontaine before he tried summoning you again.

"Romeo, Romeo, stop bein' so disruptive!" You hissed into your phone,"Stop honkin' that horn, you're going to wake up the guard!"

"I know you better bring yo' tail down that tower and give me what I came here fo', Juliet."

With only a sheepish grin to offer "mhmmm" and "okay, then, girl" looks you got, you hurried down the stairs while Fontaine grumbled about the integrity of your building's security through your ear.

Smoothing out your cardigan as you exited the building, you were wishing that you wore something a bit more flattering when Fontaine was already meeting you at the double doors.

You went when your hand was pulled and you were hugged by Fontaine as he rested up against the brick wall of your office. It was a little hiding spot that was mainly used by the night shift.

It was the perfect spot to hide away from supervisors and sudden rains.

"You got somethin' for making yo' man wait for so long?" Fontaine asked, keeping a hand at your waist while the other one steadied you by the chin. You chuckled before looking up at him and pursing your lips.

"Mhmm, don't mind if I do..." Fontaine purred and pressed his silky lips against yours.

Sweet and slow. Fontaine took hold of your hands, left them to massage your shoulders, used on hand to settle at the dip of your waist.

"I can't stay down here for too long," you breathed after parting, "Very tempting to hop into that passenger seat, though."

"Give the word, I'll peel out this bitch."

"Oh, I know you will," you laughed and kissed his cheek before pressing yours to his, " 'M happy you came to surprise me. I think I can make it to the end now."

"I aim to please."

The wind blew a bit tougher and you burrowed into him as best you could. He rested his chin on the top of your head, hands locking at the small of your back.

It felt like being set out in the sun to dry. A nice, long stretch after an afternoon nap. Just...good.

"How much longer do you have?" He asked voice quiet. You probably had another five or so minutes.

Shifting around so your phone could be brought up between you, "About this long."

Hitting play, you both listened to Ms. Hill remind you how nothing mattered more than where you wanted to be most.

-----

ending notes: this felt kinda long lol! thank you soo much for reading! I appreciate every pair of eyes that lands on my writing, it means so much to me! 🥹

taglist✨: @megamindsecretlair @thadelightfulone @mag1calenchantr3ss @cocoeffects @wide-nose-and-wonderful @8ttached @thadelightfulone @hobiesmain @thickeeparker @longpause-awkwardsmile @ms-angiealsina @educatorsareslutstoo @mysterychick93@mcondance@sageispunk@kindofaintrovert@hunnishive@notapradagurl7@blowmymbackout@educatorsareslutstoo@blackerthings@miyuhpapayuh@westside-rot

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🩸🩸🩸🩸

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🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟

🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨

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LOVE YOUR WRITING

THANK YOU!!!!

12 for 🩸:

---

Eddie can’t breathe.

He feels like he used to before he’d have a big, catastrophic panic attack. Like the world is spinning too fast around him and he’s about to overheat to a critical boiling point. 

“What does this mean, Eddie?” Maddie demands. “What is my brother doing?”

Eddie can’t move.

How does he know? How did he figure it out? Eddie was careful. He was so careful.

“Eddie?”

---

12 for ⚡:

---

Buck nods. “Okay. Right.”

Eddie smiles encouragingly, glad Buck can at least be plied with logic. If he won’t listen to Eddie, at least he’ll listen to Hen.

“So we just need to find somewhere that can accommodate the people first,” Bobby says. “And we have a solution for the food if all else fails.”

“We need to find it in three days,” Buck says. “Two, really.”

“Well, then let’s stop panicking and figure it out,” Hen instructs.

Buck nods compliantly. 

What the hell?

---

18 for 🧟:

---

They did…

Maddie twists to face Chris, wincing at the pain in her ribs. 

“Chris,” she says. “I totally get why you’re mad and upset. When my brother was your age, he got bit by a really big, scary dog and felt the exact same way you did.”

“A dog?” Chris sniffs. 

“Yep! It was like a husky crossed with something, and it was sort of crazy. Our neighbors bought it from a farm,” Maddie continues. “It was always barking. My dad hated it.”

Eddie would hate it, too. Though, he is a little confused where this is going. 

“The dog bit Evan,” Maddie continues. “It hopped the fence when we were walking to school. He was so mad, just like you are right now.”

“That’s scary,” Chris says. 

“It was,” Maddie agrees. “But you know what I told Evan?”

“What?” Chris asks. 

“I told him I felt bad for the dog,” Maddie explains. “Because it didn’t have anyone properly taking care of it and making it feel safe. Just like those lions. They used to live on a preserve where people made sure they were fed and healthy. Now their protectors are gone.”

---

18 for 🚨:

---

Buck takes a deep breath. He can do that. He thinks he can keep doing that. 

“Thank you, Bobby,” he says. “I really appreciate it. Uh, appreciate you, I mean.”

Bobby smiles at him. Kind and warm and full of understanding. 

“Anytime.”

v.

Chris comes home mid-summer. 

Eddie feels like a dislocated limb that’s been reset. His son is home. Things are right again. He wonders now, if the years of his twenties spent bouncing around, listless, were a result of that estrangement. Like despite his obliviousness, a part of him still knew and lacked and needed his child. It hurts his brain and his chest just to think about it. 

Chris seems happy to be home, too. Like Buck said, he never thought he was being abandoned or passed on. He missed them, and he wanted to be back, and some days he complained and gave Karen grief, but overall, he trusted they’d bring him home as soon as they could. 

Chim stays longer than Hen. Eddie is a little unsure of why. Yes, he doesn’t have little kids to get home to. But he talks all the time about how much he misses Maddie. Eddie isn’t sure why he doesn’t just go home when Hen does. At any rate, it takes him nearly a month after Hen leaves to finally feel safe enough to head back and be with his very pregnant girlfriend.

As summer comes to an end, wildfires break out across the country. Namely, Texas.

---

39 for 💐:

---

“I think I'd prefer doing anything with you than competing in classes.”

“Really?” May asks, voice a little breathy. An effect she didn’t intend for. “Because you’re pretty good at that.”

“What can I say?” April shrugs. “I was inspired.

May feels a sort of anticipation she’s never experienced before. Like something is going to happen and she doesn’t quite know what, but regardless, she’s desperate for it. Like the moment at the end of a drumroll, right before the big reveal. There’s a delicious sort of tension. One she can’t say she’s experienced before. With Darius, with every other guy she’s ever been out with, it felt like following a script. Everything felt like choreographed steps. This isn't that. This is like a story that she can’t put down. 

Maybe she’s just tipsy. Maybe she’s overreacting. Maybe Buck and Hen got her overexcited. Maybe she shouldn’t read into this at all.

Or maybe it’s a pretty big sign. 

Maybe May should let this anticipation guide her, just for right now, and see what happens. 

“I, uh…” May struggles to know what to say. She steps closer to April. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking these past few days.”

April nods, eyes sweeping over May’s face. She’s about two inches shorter than May, but stands with a sort of confidence that makes her seem tall.

“Maybe you should think a little bit less,” she whispers. Her eyes land on May’s lips.

Oh.

Well, sure. Okay. 

May’s brain can shut up for a second.

April closes the remaining distance between them, stands on her toes a little, and tilts her head up to kiss May. May thinks she knows what to expect, but she’s wrong. She thinks, lips are lips. It’s not true.

---

39 for ➰:

---

Buck wakes up at eight in the morning, right on the dot. It’s a small thing to notice, but he does. There’s a digital clock on the nightstand beside the big, king-sized hotel room bed, and the time is staring him in the face when he opens his eyes. Bold, square red letters. 8:00. 

Is it a little sad to say he congratulates himself on sleeping in?

As a teenager, and early in his twenties, Buck would have no problem letting the morning breeze by in a hazy sleep. He’d struggled, joining the SEALS, with the early wake up calls. Hated it. Hated waking up for something he didn’t like. Firefighting had sharpened him. Instead of being forced to wake up for something he was ill suited for, he chose to rise early for something he loved. And so his body retrained itself. He found it hard to make it to seven most days now. Even harder to stay lazy in bed once he was awake. 

Today, though? Today Buck has a reason to linger. 

He rolls over in bed, away from the bright red digital clock face, to where Eddie is still sleeping, arm slung over Buck’s waist. Facing him, Buck presses a kiss to his forehead. Eddie’s eyes flutter open. Two pools of sun-melted gold. 

“Good morning,” Buck whispers.

Eddie smiles. “Good morning, handsome.”

Buck feels his cheeks warm a little. That never gets old. How does that never get old? It’s like he’s hearing it for the very first time. 

“How did you sleep?” Buck asks. 

He’s keeping his voice low. They got adjoining hotel rooms for this mini-vacation they took up to Morro Bay. Christopher is still asleep on the other side of the connecting doors. 

Eddie blinks, like the question throws him for a loop. Then, his expression rights itself. 

“Good,” he answers. “Good. I always sleep well beside you. You know that.”

---

78 for 🦮:

---

He feels like the trust Eddie has put in him, in less than two years of knowing each other, has changed him. Fundamentally, it has changed him. 

“You don’t need to say anything. Just know that I trust you, and I know you handled today as best you could.” 

Buck exhales a bit shakily. 

“This whole time I haven’t missed you as much as I do right now,” Buck says. “I really wish you were here.”

“Me too.”  Eddie says gently. 

“Thank you.”

“For what?” 

“For everything, Eddie.”

“You’re the one doing everything for me. And my kid. Who, once again, almost murdered your dog.”

“Okay, well I don’t think she was going to die. I think I was just panicking.”

“Still.” 

Buck smiles crookedly. 

“Yeah, well… You know I’d do anything for both of you. Impending criminal poisoning charges aside.”

“I know. I do know that.” 

That night, Buck finds himself a little teary after he and Eddie hang up. Living in lockdown with Chris and Cranberry, adjusting to the new routine, might be getting easier. Apart from today, that is. But not seeing Eddie? Time doesn’t make that easier at all. 

x.

Cranberry heals just fine. In under a week, she’s back to her regular self. She bounces back quicker than Christopher, actually, whose guilt keeps him hesitant around her for days and days after the Tylenol incident. Buck has to encourage him tons. Once Cranberry is feeling fully better, her usual energy and affection help, too. It takes time, but they manage to put the whole thing behind them. 

They get Cranberry’s Intermediate Trick Dog title. Making her Tweed River’s Vodka Cranberry TKI. Basically a Master’s degree, if you ask Buck. He’s working on the next level - Advanced. Gotta get his girl her PhD. Eddie says he’s ridiculous for calling it that. Hen, in med school, says it’s insulting. Buck’s definitely not planning on stopping showering Cranberry with accolades any time soon. 

It’s summer. The heat is sweltering most of the day and it’s hard to train outside or even take Cranberry on decent walks if it’s not night or early morning. Training the more advanced tricks is coming along. Just slower. Which is how Buck finds himself outside before seven in the morning, working on position commands from a distance. Christopher neglected to join him in favor of sleep. Typical not-quite-preteen. 

It’s morning. It’s quiet. It’s relatively mild out. Buck feels at peace, working with his best girl. 

And then his phone rings. 

This is weird for the time. The fact that it’s not a workday. The fact that no text preceded it. Buck’s first thought is to worry that something must have happened to Maddie and her baby. Or that someone has Covid. Either way, he’s assuming he’s getting a call from the hospital. 

When he checks the caller ID, he sees it’s Eddie. Which is actually not comforting, because Eddie FaceTimes him. He always FaceTimes him. And not usually at this time of day. 

“Eddie?” Buck answers the call a little frantically. Okay, a lot frantically, clearly, because Cranberry races over to check on him. “What’s wrong?”

“What? Nothing’s wrong?” 

“Nothing? Then why are you calling me at quarter to seven in the morning on a Sunday?”

Eddie chuckles. “Well, you’re awake, aren’t you?”

“Yes, obviously.”

---

78 for 🔼:

---

“But, please. You don’t have to go out of your way to be nice to me. You don’t have to ask how I am. It’s really okay if you hate me.”

He gawks at her.

“Shannon, I-I don’t hate you!”

She gives him a dubious look.

“Really!” He protests. “First of all, I’m pretty bad at hating people. There’s, like, one person I really hate, and he’s dead anyway.”

Shannon remembers, suddenly, visiting Eddie in the hospital after his other friend had been stabbed. The person who had done it was Buck’s brother-in-law. His sister’s husband. Who she was trying to make her ex-husband. 

Right.

He has real villains to hate. Even dead ones. 

“Second of all!” Buck continues. “I don’t even know you!”

“You don’t,” she agrees quietly. 

“Third! Uh, third of all… You’re pretty important to some people I care about, so… Yeah.” Buck sighs. “I don’t know. I might not get your choices. But Eddie has made it pretty clear it’s not all your fault. It’s not my business, anyway.”

No. It isn’t. And yet, here he is anyway. The only person really talking to her right now, even if just in a physiotherapist’s waiting room. 

“Sorry,” she mutters. “I shouldn’t have assumed how you feel.”

“No,” he shrugs. “It’s fair. Honestly? When Eddie first said you weren’t around? I did judge you. But that’s a lot to do with my own shit, too.”

She tilts her head, curious.

“Your own shit?”

She shouldn’t ask. She really shouldn’t. And he shouldn’t answer. 

But he does.

“Yeah, my relationship with my parents is more or less nonexistent,” Buck explains. “They didn’t even come to visit when a fire engine fell on me. Called my sister to wish me well.” 

“I’m sorry,” Shannon says. “That doesn’t sound easy.”

He shrugs. Like it is what it is. Like it’s just life, and not their failure. God. She hopes when Chris is his age, he never feels that way about his relationship with her. No matter what state it’s in, she hopes he knows. She loves her son more than anything, even if she’s not always good at loving him.

“I don’t hate you,” Buck says again. “I swear.”

“Okay,” she says. Her eyes start to sting. “Thanks.”

Fuck.

It shouldn’t matter what this guy thinks of her. She doesn’t know him, either. He’s Eddie’s friend, not hers. But maybe there’s something to be said about the fact that Christopher thinks he hung the moon. Maybe there’s wisdom in the goodness she senses from him. Maybe caring isn’t so stupid. 

The threat of tears in her eyes becomes a reality. Face hot with embarrassment, Shannon wipes her eyes. 

“Sorry,” she mumbles. “I’m totally freaking out on you.”

“That’s okay,” he says. “Don’t worry about it, really.”

[upontherisers]

"second-nature" for mahalia and bucky because she maybe needs her hands in his curls — @shoshiwrites

you sent this forever ago but i knew i needed to find just the right scene and you said 'reincarnation AU' last week and it reset my brain so how could i not!

She’s quiet after, wordlessly rising from his arms and swinging her leg over the side of the bed to put on her brace. He wants to reach out and trace the line of her spine, get some of her lost warmth back, but his arm stays flush with her pillow and misses her like hell. After securing the final strap across her thigh, he watches her hand linger for a moment on his discarded shirt, tenuous fingers tracing over the folds in the polycotton until they move to her hoodie and pick it up. The mattress creaks as she stands and the light changes in a blink from the white of her IKEA lamp to incandescence, the warm glow of a bulb on its last legs.

He’ll stop at the hardware store after work tomorrow and see if they can’t get it changed before they go to the pictures. The new Hitchcock starring Grant and Bergman — Mahalia can’t pass that up.

He blinks again and it’s back to the cool LED. Sitting up, he sniffs and wipes at his nose before reaching for his water — he’s got to stop letting Mahalia pick 50s movies when he comes over. But then it comes to him that Notorious came out in 1946 and he knows if he Googles it, he’ll be right. He’s also got to stop knowing things without knowing them.

The toilet flushes in the bathroom and he gets up as the sink turns on. He finds his sweatpants and makes sure they stay sweatpants as he pulls a leg through and then the other. Last week, they were brown-green wool for a moment and dark, paint-stained denim yesterday when he got out of the shower. She was there both times, but that’s just a coincidence. It has to be a coincidence.

She’s brushing her teeth in the dark when he walks into the bathroom, squinting as he flicks on the light and wrap his arms around her middle. It’s silent except for the buzz of her toothbrush, and she’s warm and without complaint about his fingers being cold or him being too hot. He’s allowed to hold her as she rinses and spits and stands back up so that she’s resting against his chest, one of her hands playing with his absentmindedly, her eyes drawn to their reflection in the mirror.

Sometimes, he imagines she can see it too. There are moments when she’s looking at him, through him, and past him at the same time, and he hopes that he’s not alone in this and going crazy, that she can also remember box scores from when the Dodgers were still in Brooklyn and mornings when they did nothing but kiss each other until the baby cried and pulled them into the nursery.

And sometimes he hopes she doesn’t see any of it, that this is the only life she has to struggle through. He’s only seen it once, but if everything else is real then so is the fall and the stiffness in her knee and miles and miles in the snow, those fucking Germans not letting her ride on a cart until she collapsed. 

He has to kiss her and does, pressing his lips to her cheek before tucking his head into her shoulder where she smells like her good lotion, shea butter and a bit of coconut.

“You should go,” she says, but her hand comes up to tangle in his hair, her nails gently scraping over his scalp and making his nerves spark all the way down his back. Second-nature, he guesses.

[yunhohours]

Reset

✗ Pairing: tutor!yonghee x fem!reader

✗ Word count: 3.4k

✗ Warnings: college au, reader is a bit of a bitchy brat and yonghee humbles her <3, fooling around in an empty classroom, yonghee watches reader touch herself, fingering (f. receiving), orgasm denial, unprotected sex (be smart), reader cries a lil, very brief cockwarming at the end

✗ A/N: i started writing this in march of 2023 SFSDFSK. i have thought about what i would write many many times since but haven't actually finished writing it until now. tutor!yonghee is lethal for me personally 😵‍💫

Yonghee is already waiting for you when you walk into the empty classroom. As usual, he looks gorgeous. You roll your eyes. When your professor “suggested”–more like ordered–you to allow Yonghee to tutor you, you were expecting to meet with your typical math-brained nerd. Someone that would be so unremarkable that you’d simply have to focus on your studies in order to not go crazy from restlessness. Yet here you are, meeting with the man that has been making frequent visits to your fantasies, uninvited but annoyingly welcome.

You step past the doorway and Yonghee seems to hear you, lifting his head from his book, soft dark brown hair swishing with the movement. You offer him a closed lip smile as you take another step into the room and then he’s standing and you wish he wasn’t. He’s wearing light wash jeans and a black sweater with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. You’re not sure why such a basic looking outfit makes drool pool in your mouth, but it seems to be an effect of his that you’ll never be immune to.

Too busy ogling him to question why he stood in the first place, you hesitate when he clears his throat, your eyes refocusing back to reality. He’s pointing at the door behind you, eyebrow raised. “Lock.” Not a verb, a noun. He needs the lock in place. You sigh. 

You should be used to this by now. You pushed your luck a few too many times at the beginning of your sessions with him, your friends showing up to distract you and frustrate him. He won’t be taking that chance anymore. Now you have to have your sessions in a locked classroom and that feels a little bit too much like incarceration to you when you’d rather be doing literally anything else.

You turn, step forward, lock the door. You smile at him again when you turn back to him but it’s clearly sarcastic this time and it only makes him smirk. He’s very aware that you don’t enjoy this and if he didn’t find a way to enjoy that, he’d be just as miserable as you. He sits down, letting his back rest against the back of the chair, arms crossed. He looks at you expectantly, waiting for you to sit down too so you can get started. 

You make your way to the empty chair next to him and take a seat, pulling your textbook and other necessary supplies from your bag. You’d also like to get this over with as soon as possible.

“How was your day?” Yonghee asks to fill the silence as he leafs through his papers, reminding himself of where you left off. “Fine,” you mumble, not bothering to give him extra details when you two do not have the kind of relationship that would imply he cares.

So it surprises you a little when he stops what he’s doing and flicks his gaze to you, head tilting slightly in curiosity. “That’s okay. You don’t have to tell me more than you want to.” He clears his throat and motions to his book, signaling the page he’d like you to turn to.

You flip to the correct page and lean your head in your hand, elbow resting atop the desk that spans from one side of the room to another. Yonghee is already talking, summarizing what you learned during your last session, his eyes flitting between textbook and notebook. You know you shouldn’t be zoning out so soon, but you can’t help but just admire him. You’re not used to seeing someone this beautiful up close. Sure, you’ve seen a lot of guys–hot ones, even–much closer than Yonghee, but none of them could hold a candle to him. He has this natural charm and beauty that would stop anyone in their tracks. The small mole just beneath his eye conducts hypnosis on you every time you meet.

“Y/n? Are you listening?”

“Not really.”

Yonghee wasn’t expecting you to answer honestly. “And why aren’t you?”

“I’m looking at you. You’re distracting.”

You can’t help but notice how the corner of Yonghee’s lips pulls into a small smirk before he forces it off his face. He hums. “I understand, but you’ve got an exam coming up in a few days. You need to focus.” He pauses, eyes settling on yours. He looks a little bit stern and that makes your stomach churn. “Can you do that?”

You have to stop yourself from saying yes right away. Something about the way he’s looking at you makes you want to do whatever he says, but you can’t relent to him so easily. That’s against everything you stand for. And, really, you can’t say you can focus with confidence. You’re more confident that you’ll get distracted again than anything else. “I’ll try.”

Yonghee smiles and it looks genuine. “Good. Thank you.”

You do a much better job of concentrating than you expected from yourself. For about fifteen minutes, anyway. But as time goes on and Yonghee is showing signs of his own fatigue, your eyes are glued to him again. You watch as he pushes his hand back through his hair from time to time. You watch as he takes frequent sips from his water bottle, his adam’s apple calling the attention of your eyes as it bobs. You listen as his soft voice gets tired from so much talking, a low rasp accenting his speech. You follow his fingers as they glide across the pages to emphasize what he’s referencing, trying so hard not to imagine them doing other things instead.

“Y/n.”

“Hmm?” You’re not even cognizant of the fact that he’s speaking to you or that you’ve answered him. Your eyes are trained on the pencil he’s twirling in his hand furthest from you. It stops suddenly.

“What’s with you today? You didn’t even notice that I haven’t said anything for the last two minutes.”

You pry your eyes away from his hand and search for his eyes instead. You need to know how much he knows about where your mind has been. You’re hoping the answer lies in his pupils. It doesn’t, but his gaze is full of intrigue. You hadn’t expected that. You had expected annoyance.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” You regret swearing in front of him for a moment, and then you don’t. You never change who you are or how you talk for anyone. Why now?

He doesn’t say anything. You get the feeling that he’s waiting for more of an explanation than an apology and you groan. “My mind is just so not in it today. I’m so fucking distracted.”

“I see.” His voice is laced with sudden understanding in just two words. You turn back to your books to pretend he’s not still staring at you. You don’t like being under his gaze when you’ve been wasting his time–intentional or not.

“Come here.”

If you were already still before, you’re stone now. Your pencil falls from your hand, bounces as it hits the desk, and rolls off. It feels like a perfect symbol for what your brain is experiencing at the moment. What did he just say?

You reluctantly meet his eyes again, but they’re the same. “What?”

Yonghee leans back in his chair, letting his thighs fall to the outer sides of the seat and gestures towards his lap with his gaze. His hands rest atop his thighs as if to say look, there’s room for you here. “Come here,” he repeats simply.

You’re fully convinced that you’re no longer just daydreaming. You must’ve fallen asleep during your lesson and now you’re just dreaming. Regular dreaming.

“Yonghee, I don’t understand–”

He turns your chair to face his and reaches for you, carefully letting his hands take hold of your waist. He pulls you off of your chair and into his lap, adjusting you for a moment until you’re in a comfortable position. Your cheeks are burning. This dream feels too real.

“Is this okay?” He asks, his gentle voice sounding even better up close. He searches your eyes for answers the way you did to him moments ago.

“Well, yeah, but I’m still confused.”

“Mm.” He nods his understanding, his hands linking together behind your back. “Let me tell you what I think we should do, okay?” He waits for you to nod before continuing. “I think it’s obvious to both of us why you’re distracted. You didn’t hesitate to spell it out for me earlier. It’s my job to make sure your lessons get absorbed properly, but I can’t do that when your pretty little brain keeps wandering, can I?” He waits for a shake of your head this time. “So, in order to make sure you can learn from me, I should take care of any obstacles that stop that from happening. Don’t you think?”

You chew on your lip, hands fidgeting between your bodies, twisting the hem of his shirt in your fists. How is he making you nervous? He’s supposed to be the loser here. You nod anyway.

Satisfied, Yonghee smiles and taps your lower back with his hands. “Good. Now turn around for me.”

What? Turn around? So he’s not going to kiss you?

Yonghee can tell you’re not exactly sure what he’s wanting from you, so he helps. He uses his–surprisingly strong–hands to reposition you until you’re sitting in his lap once again, but facing away from him this time. “There you go,” he praises. He lifts one of your legs until he can plant your foot on the desk. His other hand angles your other leg, bending it just enough so it’s not uncomfortable but you’re spread open enough for him.

Yonghee maneuvers his arms under yours, his fingers coming to play with the strings of your much-too-small sweatshorts. He doesn’t do anything, just plays. He lets his head lean against the side of yours, his lips dangerously close to your ear. “You can tell me if you get uncomfortable at any point, okay?”

Once you give him an affirmative nod, his hands glide down the insides of your thighs. They’re warm but your body responds as if they were cold–with a shiver. He kneads the flesh briefly before bringing his hands back up, one hand carefully pulling the crotch of your loose shorts to the side. You hear an incredulous puff of air leave him when he sees there are no panties underneath. 

His other hand finds your right one and guides it, following the same path along your thigh but finishing at your lower lips this time. “Show me how you touch yourself. Show me what you like.”

Your breath catches in your throat, your fingers flexing in the air just above your clit. You can’t help but feel that if this was anyone else, you would refuse, insisting they stop teasing you and touch you themselves. Instead, you lower your hand, wincing slightly when you find your clit more sensitive than you had expected so soon. You think you should say something, but you feel a little shy to speak all of a sudden, so you just slowly rub circles on your clit.

Yonghee hums as he watches your movements over your shoulder. He watches as your fingers move over the little bundle of nerves, gliding through your embarrassingly wet folds, prodding at your entrance but feeling too bashful to slide inside. As your fingers move back up towards your clit, Yonghee’s hand moves between your thighs.

“Since when are you so shy?” He asks lowly, his middle finger testing before sliding inside. You try to swallow down the soft moan of relief. “This is what you want, right?”

You don’t give him the satisfaction of agreement, instead just watching as his finger moves in and out of you slowly, your lips parted as your breathing gradually loses its natural rhythm. Yonghee’s free hand tenderly brushes away a stray strand of hair that falls in your face. He speaks near your ear, his ring finger joining his middle inside your warmth. “There you go. This is what you needed.”

Your fingers keep up the stimulation on your clit, your head falling back on Yonghee’s shoulder as your eyes close. It all feels so good. You would almost feel embarrassed by how wet you are if it didn’t feel so fucking good.

Yonghee presses a light kiss to the side of your face as your hips start moving against his hand, pulling a barely audible grunt out of him. The sound reverberates from your ear all the way down to your core, making you clench around his fingers. Yonghee chuckles quietly, his cheek sliding against yours affectionately. You’re getting overwhelmed quickly, breathing heavily and moaning with need.

Yonghee can sense it.

“Uh-uh,” he chides gently, stilling his fingers inside you as his other hand pulls your hand away from your clit. “Not yet, y/n.”

You sigh in frustration, trying to take things into their own hands as your hips chase his fingers. He tsks, pulling his fingers out of you altogether. “If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right.” He warns, his voice still dripping with sweetness. He gives you a second to stop squirming, waiting for you to resign yourself. When you do, he chuckles again, his fingers finding their way back inside you. “See? It’s not so hard.”

“You’re such an ass,” you breathe out, the sound lacking any intimidation due to the clear arousal in your voice. You twitch as his fingers start moving again, his thumb resting against your clit. He curls his fingers, his other hand wrapped over the top of your thigh. Even without seeing him, you can sense his smugness.

“That’s not very nice, y/n,” he murmurs, punctuating his light scolding with a firm press on your clit. You moan out before you can muffle it, surely fueling his ego. You’re too sensitive from being so close to the edge minutes ago–you can’t afford to keep instigating him when you can’t even sit still in his lap. His fingers continue to stroke and rub you, his hand on your thigh keeping you stable enough as he picks up the pace.

It doesn’t take long before you’re getting close again, your wetness dripping down his fingers and onto his jeans. You hear your stifled moans as if listening from outside of yourself, eager to experience an orgasm at the hands of such a beautiful, frustrating man.

And then he stops, fingers slipping out of you, both hands proactively holding you in place by your hips.”Don’t even think about it.”

You groan but it turns into a whine–something you never do with a man. Your brows are knit together, pained. ‘Yonghee, what the fuck?” You hiss, your hips restless in his lap. Clearly he was right to expect their rebellion. “Why the fuck won’t you let me cum?”

He presses soothing kisses along your jawline. “Because, pretty,” he starts, thumbs rubbing circles on your hips in an effort to comfort your spasming body. “When I make you cum for me, I want it to be a good one.” His lips travel back up to your ear. “Be still for me for a second, okay?” A question, but not. An expectation.

With a huff, you silently agree, your eyes squeezing closed tighter as you summon patience. At least it sounds like he’s planning to let you cum at some point. Going home and taking care of it yourself would not sate you at this point. 

Yonghee’s hands move away from your hips and he shifts underneath you, your body freezing momentarily. This is new. You hear the sound of his zipper and you’d swear you started salivating in your mouth like a dog with its eyes set on a piece of raw meat. One of his hands glides up your arm, moving into your hair as you feel the tip of his cock teasing up and down your slit. “Now, you wanna cum for me, y/n?” 

You nod eagerly this time, your attitude replaced with the need to feel him inside you. You’re not going to do anything to deprive yourself of that. “God, please,” you groan, desperate to have the release he’s denied you.

You can feel him smirk against the side of your face, continuing to tease you with himself for a few more long, torturous moments. He palms the back of your skull, finally positioning himself at your entrance. “Let’s perform a little reset on that brain of yours, mm?” Without a moment of hesitation, he pushes himself into you, inching inside at a snail’s pace clearly designed to make you crazy. And boy does it fucking work.

Your walls pulse and flutter around his slow intrusion, your fingers grasping at the air. The moan that comes out of you is prolonged and desperate, mirroring his extended exhale of breath. Once fully seated inside you, he gives you a few moments to accept him before he starts moving, dragging his cock against your walls much too slowly for the pent-up ache you harbor. “Better?” You can’t tell if he’s genuinely asking, taunting you, or both.

“Yonghee, it’s not– I need–” You stutter, struggling to clearly communicate when you feel like your mind is blacking out.

“Hmm? What do you need, y/n?” He purrs, his hips moving somehow slower, if that’s even possible. You can feel tears pricking your eyes, a complex combination of frustration and arousal.

“Fuck, please,” you rasp, your throat constricting at the realization that your pleading is no more clear than before. He’s just going to keep fucking teasing me.

Thankfully, Yonghee seems to take pity on you. Maybe the strain in your voice was too much for him to ignore. His hands slide over the tops of your thighs, holding the plushness of your inner thighs open for him. He starts thrusting earnestly now, gradually but quickly picking up speed to give you the stimulation you seem to need from him. You’re choking back sobs, the pleasure of him fucking you after being denied orgasm overwhelming your senses and clouding your brain.

“Oh, y/n.” He sounds almost fond of you as he kisses away a few tears that have escaped your eyes. His hands tighten their grasp on your thighs, his cock pushing deeper, pulling a pitched-up moan out of your trembling body. “Let it all out for me.” The edge of arousal in his voice strikes a pleasured chord in you, the sound echoing on loop in your mind.

You’re writhing on his lap, your back arching off his chest as he pants against your ear, driving himself into you relentlessly without being harsh. Your thighs quake against his palms as you feel the all too familiar sensation of an approaching orgasm, a brief flicker of fear flashing through your mind. He wouldn’t dare deny me again. “Yonghee…” A plea.

“Shh.” His head dips, pressing featherlight kisses along your neck and shoulder. “Go ahead, y/n. Cum for me.”

If you weren’t already crying from the pleasure, you could cry from the relief. Your body relaxes at his reassurance before tensing, preparing for the wracking of ecstasy. You barely manage a gasp before your mouth opens wider in a silent moan, your body seemingly ceasing to function aside from tightening around Yonghee’s cock and coating it in your release. You can hear his approving hum as he feels you, hands massaging your thighs to help you through your orgasm. He keeps thrusting as you ride it out, only slowing when he feels you go pliant in his lap.

You’re catching your breath, trying to remember how to use your brain again when you realize that Yonghee has stopped moving. But he didn’t cum. You blink your eyes open, feeling a slight burn from the tears shed. You lift your head from his shoulder, looking down and around you only to find Yonghee flipping through pages of his textbook. “Yonghee?” You don’t think you need to explain what you’re asking. He’s smart.

He smiles, moving his eyes away from the book and back to yours. “What?” He asks, a playful lilt to his tone. You raise your brows, encouraging him to explain. “I did what I was supposed to do, didn’t I?”

You almost smack him, an intrigued smirk forming on your lips. “Really? So now I’m just supposed to get off you and go back to studying?”

“No.” He says, his hands returning to your thighs. “You’re going to sit right here and study.”

For good measure, he rocks his hips into yours, eliciting a small gasp from you. He winks, holding your pencil up for you to take. Oh, he’s deadly serious.

[stitchthesewords]

I voted Mumscarian but could I perhaps request some type of soft scarbo

With less than 24 hours left to vote in the poll, one big final push for Mumscarian with some redscape coming RIGHT up o7 Send me proof of a vote for mumscarian for your own little ficlet of your choosing!

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“And so now you just connected this line of redstone to this repeater and – voila!” Mumbo leaned back with his arms in the air as the redstone lamp lit up. “On/Off switch for your front porch from multiple spots on the tree, huh?”

Scar kissed his cheek and laughed a little. “This is lovely Mumbo, really, but I have….no idea how you did that,” he said. He could have laughed as Mumbo’s expression morphed into one of bewilderment. The taller man popped up from his knees and wandered over to one of the logic gates he built in order to get the to work. Scar could see him gearing up to explain the system again and he covered his mouth to hide the giggle, wandering over to wrap his arms around Mumbo’s shoulders.

“Well – so – if this latch in on but this one is off the system will still work – and then it wont interfere if you turn THAT latch on and then you just have to make sure they’re all off for the lamp to actually turn off. You know, I could probably build a reset button and exchange the levers for buttons and then you wouldn’t have to wander up and down the tree to make sure everything was off – oh…why didn’t I do that in the first place-“ Mumbo’s ramblings didn’t really come to a halt so much as Scar stopped listening, pulling him in close. He pressed a kiss to Mumbo’s mouth, the man still talking around him for a second before his brain caught up and he fell silent.

“It’s fine just the way it is Mumbo, I promise…” he said with a little laugh. “Besides – that light is to signal visitors are welcome! How often do you see me turning it off?”

“But what if you need to turn it off on a bad day and – you’ll have to go check 5 levers in a wheelchair – Oh…I really should’ve done the-“

Scar kissed him again to quiet him, leaning back onto the cane. “That’s why we put all of them right next to the wheelchair lift, remember?” He smiled fondly at the mustached man and kissed him again just for good measure. This one, Mumbo actually melted into, softening his shoulders, and leaning into Scar.

“Right…Right…you’re so smart, love,” Mumbo said softly, wrapping his arms around Scar’s waist and resting his head on his shoulder.

“It was your idea!” Scar exclaimed, laughing a little bit. He turned and kissed Mumbo on his nose, swaying both of them back and forth gently. Mumbo hummed in response and the two fell into pleasant silence.