#i think he would eventually but come on. give him more time than that

[bunnys-kisses]

(ㅅ´ ˘ `)♡ mad(ly in love) max｡ ⊹˚.⋆

partially inspired by this by @angldelight before it got away from me! <3

max knew you looked better in blue than red. and if you did look good in red, it was the red of the his team rather than the garish red of ferrari. he believed the statement that everyone is a ferrari fan even if they don't know it, because if they saw a photo of you, they'd have brand loyalty to the stallion for the rest of their days.

there was a reason why your face and name were everywhere in your home country. you were a pride and joy to the nation you called home. but, max was more than happy to stake a claim on you.

max liked you because you challenged him. far too many women would bend over backwards for the three time champion, but you simply glared him down with your hands on your hips. you stood toe to toe with him even if there was a height difference. but you kept your gaze steady on him.

"don't fuck me over again." you said, "or you'll regret it."

"i would never do it on purpose, princess. maybe you should watch where you are going from now on." he bite back in response. he noticed a twitch in your hand, like you wanted to grab him by the front of his driver's suit and pull him close. either for a punch or a kiss.

it would eventually lead in kisses. max liked when you were mad because then that meant he could flip the script and get ferrari's little princess on her knees with a mouthful of verstappen cock. it was honestly cute, while he wanted to dive into your sweet cunt and make your insides sticky with his cum. he'd have to make you acquainted with his size.

max verstappen was fuckin' crazy though, being involved with him was like being a deer and getting your leg caught in a trap. the type of obsession that clamped around you, dug its teeth into your fragile skin. you were so cute though, something some delicate and soft. formula one was for the toughest, the mental and physical strain of it all (that could be why he was so... off). and while max believed in you, he worried.

where you were going, who you were with. you hadn't only been in monaco for a few years and while you had the likes of charles to help you around. when he heard about men you had met, max felt something curl inside of him.

it started inauspicious. he slipped an air tag into the back pocket of your jeans while you were in your driver's room getting ready for dinner with some guy that max couldn't even remember the name of. he was all smiles as he wished you a great time.

too bad there was an issue with your car. how could you have a flat tire already, you just got the car? and when you asked your date to come pick you up, he totally ghosted you. little did you know that while you were struggling with you car, max went to meet your date and give him a few firm words. that was when the real mad max came out.

"listen mate. you're never going to give her what she needs. hell, not even what she wants. there are plenty of fish in the sea." he got a little closer to the other man, "but you can't have her."

"why?" your date swallowed.

max nodded and flashed that winning smile, "because she's mine. and i know she may have talked so nice to you. she's like that. charming. but sadly she's taken. so i think it's in everyone's best interest that you delete her number and go back to finding your perfect match." he patted the man on the shoulder like they were buddies.

"and if i don't."

max's smile only grew, "i don't like people fucking what's mine. she's taken, mate. move on." he couldn't verbalize exactly how he'd rough up the other man. he didn't want to make headlines. but there was something in his gaze that made your date high tail it out of there. your number blocked and deleted.

max then used the air tag to find you at a bar close to your flat where you were drinking away your sorrows. but, don't worry about that! max was now here to make sure that you had the best night ever. while that meant ending up drunk and curled up in his bed, but he didn't mind. he was even a gentleman and created a barrier of pillows between the two of you. no funny business. even if he wanted to. when he eventually fucked you, he wanted you conscious.

that air tag would come in handy, turns out that you wore the same pair of black levi's jeans. max was wondering if he had to get more air tags to place along other items. but, he lucked out with that one. you thought it was a strange coincidence that he seemed to be where you were.

and he'd laugh and tell you, "small city, right?"

it took months of hard work but, eventually he got to sink his pretty cock into your prettier hole. the happiest day of his life. he had invited you on his boat for the afternoon, and while he didn't expect much. he wasn't expecting your pretty tits on such display. a pretty red checkered print bikini and sandals as you stayed close to max.

and then alone, out in the waters. you ended up straddling max's waist while he sat on one of the seats up on the deck. it was couch-like and allowed you two some room as you rubbed your sweet pussy up against the front of his shorts. his hands dug into the plushness of your ass as he moved against you. you were painfully pretty, and it drove max insane. you'd try to run him off the track, but he'd always get an apology by having your pretty tits in his face and your pussy around his cock.

"you feel so good." he said, "you're so soft."

you whimpered, "i'm not that soft. you keep feeding me all this good food since i came to visit! my team is going to be pissed." you squirmed a little.

he kissed at your breasts in front of your face and laughed, "well, then. i guess i'll have to keep feeding you better food." his teeth then nipped your left breast and it made you whine. his hands continued to grope you ass and you squirmed a little more.

you didn't realize that you're movements only made him harder and he had to force himself to let go of you to take his cock out of his shorts. this was a dream come true, after months of being your little shadow.

"you know how to do this?" he asked.

you held onto his shoulders and chuckled, "yes, i've had sex before." which made something cold run through max's body, but it was quickly heated up once more when you sank down on him.

other men might had had you, but he was going to make sure you were his forever. no need to get stuffed with another man's cock, when you have max who, as he might add, can get into you quite easily. it was like you were made for him as you started to ride him. he pulled you into a kiss with one hand while he groped your behind with the other. he felt your core shiver around him as you continued to move up and down on his cock.

this only lit his need for you more. if you were so good on top, how good were you on the bottom, or at your side, or stuffed full of fingers and toys as max pulled orgasm after orgasm out of you. he wanted you, he was mad for you. while he'd sometimes pull dirty tricks on the track, he had a whole other set of skills for you. because he could never hurt you on the track, too much of a risk for your safety. but he'd bruise your little pussy and cover your pretty soft breasts in large bites. he'd hope that cameras would get a good look at the pretty marks.

a lot easier to scare off men than to see a woman decorated with hickies. if he had it his way, you'd be wearing a little chain with his initials on it. or better yet, chubby little verstappen baby at your hip. the thought made something hot run through him. oh, that unlocked something in his brain as he was balls deep inside of you. he continued to leave a mess of bites on your chest as you continued to rut against him. your back arched a little when he bit one of your nipples.

"i need you to burn that bikini when we get to shore." he said between heavy pants as he grabbed your ass roughly and pushed himself up as much as he could go. his voice was a little strained from the intensity of it all.

"why?" you asked as you looked down at you.

"because, someone might get the wrong idea. and i don't want you getting hurt." he replied. it showed off far too much, too much of what belonged to him.

he rubbed up against you further. his cock poking some of your deepest parts, he wondered if he was the biggest you ever had. or if there was some other guy in another part of the world who took you apart better than him. unlikely. the way he watched you wiped drool from the corner of your mouth as you rode him made him excited.

during his time racing alongside you, he had seen you at euphoric highs of victory and deep anger when losing. but, this was a whole other look, you were far from focused. only really thinking about the cock, his cock, stuffing you full. guess there was no need to get you into his clothes and keep an air tag in your bad anymore, not when you had such a sweet look across your face.

he ran his blunt nails down the side of your thighs and felt you clench harder around his cock. which made sparks appear in the back of max's mind.

"pretty thing." he said. there was a softness to you that he wanted to sink his teeth into. especially the slight chub at your hips, next time he wanted to bite down on the skin and leave pretty bruises across it. you were just so beautiful. he thought formula one was for ugly men because they wore a helmet all the time, not pretty women who made max go insane.

you whined a little bit and started to feel yourself really get hot all over. his cock fit in you perfectly. while lust clouded your head, you honestly did think about throwing out the bikini you were wearing on board the boat. he kissed at your pulse point and you moaned, your pussy fluttered around him.

"i need that bikini gone before we get back to shore." he said.

"why, what will i wear?" you asked a little shy. you couldn't get back onto land with nothing on!

he grabbed at your ass once more and pushed you down on his cock, then held you for a moment. his lips were squared with yours as he said, "i got some extra clothes in the bedroom below deck." he knew that it was either red bull or verstappen merchandise. something that he had a lot of and could get wet.

while it wouldn't show off your pretty figure. the idea of you getting a bit chilled while heading 'home' and having your nipples poke through a shirt with his logo on it made him hotter. maybe he'll turn the ac up in the car on the drive home.

"i don't want anyone to see the bikini ever again. i'll buy you something nicer." he said as he thrusted up into you, "i don't want hungry eyes on you and neither do you. you're not a piece of meat." even though max wished to devour you, you were not meat. he'd say you were more like fruit. something refreshing and bright. something to crave on a warm day like today.

"i should have something in my bag." you said as you continued to ride him.

he held your soft hips and looked up at you, "no, no." he said then licked his top lip, "wear my clothes, they'll be more comfortable." and it'll hide your figure better.

you were the first to climax, and he managed to get you across the seat of the couch and fuck you from behind doggy style. perfect angle to make sure every last drop. you clawed at the faux leather and arched your back, your sweet noises against the sounds of the sea. your pussy clenched around him as he bullied the tip up against your cervix.

it was important for the two to get acquainted.

he finally finished inside of you and let out a sweet groan. he clenched onto your hips tightly and watched you go fully limp against the couch as you tried to catch your breath. he pulled out and gooey cum dripped out of your poor pussy. ah, it's okay. he simply pushed it all back inside of you.

with the amount he finished inside of you, you were at least 3% dutch now!

when max was finished with you, he knew that he was going to keep the little princess of ferrari. maybe eventually you'll wear the red bull logo across your pretty tits when you entered the paddock. or maybe better yet, the verstappen last name. but for now he'd simply have to stake his claim by shoving all his cum into your sweet cunt. after all it was a safer place to keep it compared to his own fist.

-

even with the start of the new season. his fixation of your cunt didn't end. so what you're on a different team, that didn't mean he couldn't easily go to the ferrari area and just get you to himself. when you win the first race of the season and sing along to your national anthem, max smiles in second. not because he is happy that you are winning.

but because he knew that his cum was dampening the front of your sweet cotton panties. you may have the trophy over your head, but he knew after this, he'd get another chance to sink another load in you. <3

a/n: is this anything? does anyone want more of this????

[sleepy-steve]

pt 2 of steve "dies but doesn't stay dead" harrington and eddie "ferryman of the river styx" munson // 1.9k // pt 1 ♡

—

november 1984

Eddie checks. Of course he checks. Asks around, eventually to his superiors to make sure he wasn’t going to get in trouble for not collecting Steve. It’s uncommon, they tell him, rare, even. But not unheard of. People die briefly and come back to life. Usually only the one time. The answer should be good enough. Should be. Isn’t though. It frustrates Eddie to no end. Months of wondering and ruminating with the firm belief that he won’t get to see Harrington again anytime soon to ask.

He doesn’t have to wait long.

This time Eddie is on the boat. Leaning over the edge, a hand dangling low to the black water, staring at the same patch of grass he first saw Steve sitting. In fairness, all souls appeared in that general area. But Eddie is fixated on the exact spot Steve had shown off his deep chest wounds. It’s for this reason that Eddie jumps three feet into the air when Steve materialises in the same spot again less than a year later.

Sitting up with a rattling gasp and a look of fury on his bashed-in face—again?! Eddie briefly thinks—Steve yells, “Fucking Hargrove!”

“Christ, Harrington!” Eddie shouts, hand over his chest despite the distinct lack of heartbeat. “Could give a guy a bit of warning.”

Steve looks around, eyes surrounded by more dark bruising taking a second to focus on Eddie, chest heaving as he calms down. “Shit, sorry, man.”

They just look at each other for a few long moments, Eddie standing like a frightened cat on his still wobbling boat. He clears his throat to break the silence. “Who, uh. Who’s Hargrove?”

Scoffing, Steve drags a hand down the side of his face, then winces as it passes over bruising. “Douchebag new guy.” He sighs, settling his forearms on his knees. “His sister is friends with some kids I know. Was coming after them, so I…” Trailing off, Steve gestures to his face.

“What? Offered yourself up as a human punching bag and got yourself killed? Again?” Eddie says, trying not to sound too judgemental.

“Yeah, well,” Steve sighs. “I wasn’t just gonna let him beat up a kid. They’ve been through enough without some dickhead coming in and kicking the shit out of them.”

Eddie feels his brows pull together slightly as he sits back down on the bench of the boat, arms crossed over the edge. It’s not like Harrington was the big bully of Hawkins High, but defender of local kids is… new. “Sounds like a grade-A asshole.”

Steve snorts. “He is.”

“Kids were lucky to have you around as their… babysitter?” Eddie offers, cracking a grin.

Steve rolls his eyes, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Something like that. Probably didn’t need me at all. Stuck around long enough to see her drug him, so they should be fine.”

Humming appreciatively, a thought moves across Eddie’s mind, and he can’t help himself. “…No monsters this time?”

“Ha, ha,” Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I know you don’t believe me, but the monsters did actually come back, which is why I was with those little shits in the first place.” He sounds annoyed, but there’s a fond look behind those bruised eyes. One that gives Eddie a little spark in his chest. “But no, this death was just a regular guy.”

It’s Eddie’s turn to snort. “This death. So casual.”

A full grin breaks out on Steve’s face, contrasting heavily with the bruises and the blood under his nose. “Well, when it’s happened this many times, kinda hard not to view it as like. Just this thing that happens, y’know?”

Eddie doesn’t really know. Of everything he’s learnt about death—through his own and through everyone he’s met since—this thing Steve goes through is beyond him. Incomprehensible. He nods anyway.

“How many times have you died, Harrington?”

“Hmm…” Steve looks up as he thinks for a moment. “This would be… five? Or six?” He shrugs. “I’m not sure if it happened when I was a baby.”

He says it so casually, so matter-of-fact, Eddie almost wants to double-take. It sounds so truthful, he struggles to not believe him. Even though Eddie knows he’s not losing much by believing him, a small part of him still has doubts. And worries for his job. “You gonna get in the boat this time?”

Steve snorts. “Not this time, buddy.” Something jolts in Eddie’s chest at the familiarity. “Maybe next time though.”

“Next time,” Eddie mutters under his breath, shaking his head. “You anticipate dying again?”

“Well, no,” Steve chuckles. “But based on how things have been… and apparently I’m not too careful.” He gestures at his bruised up face, eyes bright with humour between the blues and purples and reds.

“The monsters?” Eddie supplies, just teetering on the edge of sarcasm.

“Monsters, douchebag guys, car wrecks… you just never know.”

The casual tone in which Steve talks about his deaths still has Eddie reeling. It’s been well over a year and Eddie is surrounded by death constantly, and he still struggles to think about his own. Tells himself he’d rather not dwell, which is true, but it also hurts. He shakes it off, shifting his focus to the bruised and beaten boy in front of him.

“Or… you could save yourself the trouble, and get in the boat now?” Eddie gestures down at his boat with a little hand flair. He’s joking. Mostly. If Steve did have the chance to go back to the land of the living, Eddie didn’t want to take that away from him. Not that he thought Steve was getting that chance. Not completely, anyway.

“Wish I could, but I don’t make the rules.” Steve grins at him, like they’re sharing a secret. And they kind of were. Eddie wasn’t sure how many people knew about Steve’s semi-regular dances with death.

“And since when have you ever been one to stick to the rules?” Eddie asks, propping his arm up and resting his chin on his palm. Looking at the boy on the grass. His hair is longer this time.

Steve laughs, head tilted back. “Fair point. But if you want me on that boat, you’re gonna have to come over here and drag me onto it.” He raises a brow at Eddie in challenge.

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Wish I could, but I don’t make the rules.” He repeats Steve’s words back at him, mocking him.

“Well, well, well,” Steve says, tone playful. “Look who’s being a stickler for rules now.”

“I know,” Eddie drags it out, struggling to hold back his smile. “Crazy, huh? Divine punishment for being born the son of a criminal, I guess.” Eddie’s gaze drops down to the black water beneath him.

Steve scoffs at him. “Like you never smoked pot or broke speeding laws in that van of yours.” 

Eyes widening before he can stop them, Eddie’s shocked Steve even knows about the van. Shocked that Steve knows anything about him at all. What world is he in where the king of Hawkins High knows about Eddie and his beat up old van? Even being in the grade below him, Steve had a popularity pull that was noticed by those in Eddie’s grade. Confusion and surprise subsiding, Eddie finds himself leaning forward even further.

“Coming from you?” Eddie challenges back. “We all know about the famous Harrington ragers, Mister Keg King.”

The title makes Steve roll his eyes. “Never saw you at one.”

It was true. Eddie hadn’t attended any of the parties, for fear of his reputation making him a target. He drops his gaze again. “Didn’t think I’d be welcome there.”

Steve doesn’t respond, and the silence grows between them. They haven’t moved, but Eddie feels further away from him. Like the weird little familiarity they’d developed was being forcefully shoved apart. Eddie doesn’t look up to see Steve’s reaction. Doesn’t want the pity.

“So, you really can’t get out of the boat?” Steve breaks the silence with a complete topic change.

“Nope,” Eddie responds, popping the P. “She’s my new baby, now that I don’t have my van.” He pats the side of the boat with his free hand.

Steve shifts forward until he’s sitting as close as he can to the water’s edge without getting wet. Close enough for Eddie to see the broken capillaries under his skin and the little green flecks in his eyes. He takes in the cuts on Steve’s jaw and forehead, the two black eyes, the blood under his nose. The way his knuckles are bruised and bloodied to match. Something in Eddie feels oddly… protective. Like he wants to jump in front of anything that might hurt this guy he doesn’t even really know that well.

“Change your mind about getting in the boat?” Eddie asks, voice low, now that Steve is so close.

“No,” Steve huffs a laugh. “But you can’t move, so I figured I should.”

“Just that desperate to be close to me, are you?” It slips out of Eddie’s mouth before he can think about it. And Eddie wants to punch himself in the face over it.

But to his surprise, Steve doesn’t recoil away or yell at him. Instead, he laughs softly, cheeks faintly pink beneath the bruising. “What can I say? The allure of your… baby…” He says it with a smirk. “Very tempting.”

Taken aback by Steve’s… flirting is the only word to describe it, but that can’t be right, Eddie immediately switches to joke mode. He won’t entertain the idea that Steve Harrington was honest-to-god flirting with him. He won’t.

“I’ll get you into this boat one day, Harrington. Mark my words.” 

He knocks on the edge of the boat twice before smoothing his hand over the wood. Watches as Steve’s eyes follow his hand, seemingly fixated on it. Eddie briefly wonders what would happen if he touched Steve. Would that commit Steve to being stuck here? Commit him to moving on? Would Eddie even be able to feel him?

Gaze shifting back to Eddie’s face, a smile grows on Steve’s face. “Maybe. One day.” He shrugs, like his eventual death is a fun, whimsical topic.

Eddie is about to comment on Steve’s tone, but before he can, Steve’s head whips to the side, hearing something Eddie can’t. Just like last time.

Unlike last time, Steve doesn’t get up right away. “Looks like my time’s up.”

“How do you know?” Eddie is so curious, he can’t help but ask.

“I can hear—” Steve waves vaguely around his ear. “—stuff. From where I am. The kids are yelling. Hope they’re not too freaked out.”

“Guess you better get back then,” Eddie says, trying to hide his disappointment.

“Yep.” Steve pulls himself up into a standing position, now suddenly looking down at Eddie, who leans back on instinct, shifting back on the boat bench. “But I’ll see you next time.”

“I’ll be here.” Eddie gestures at the boat, palm up. Like he has anywhere else to go. “See ya, Harrington. Stay away from monsters.”

“I’ll try,” Steve laughs, walking backwards on the grass. Keeping his eyes on Eddie as he retreats.

“Try not to get that pretty face bashed in again,” Eddie calls after Steve’s already fading form, grinning wide.

Steve just laughs, the sound of it echoing even after his body disappears from Eddie’s sight.

[wolvietxt]

𝓭aryl 𝓭ixon…

and quirks he has in a relationship !

pairing : daryl dixon x reader warnings : fluff, slight angst?, a bit of hurt / comfort, some quirks aren’t necessarily good, set in alexandria era but i think i kinda slipped up sometimes wc : 1.5k

ᰔ he’s always checking his weapons. daryl’s obsession with his weapons is no secret. he’s constantly checking his crossbow, knives, or any other tools he’s carrying. even when he's around the house, you’ll find him quietly inspecting them or making sure everything is in place. you’ve lost count of the times he’s done this right in front of you, like when he’s sitting on the couch, half-watching tv, but still fiddling with his knives. when you get frustrated and ask him why he can’t just sit still for a minute, daryl’s response is usually a gruff, "ain’t nothin' wrong with being prepared." he might not fully understand why it's annoying, but when you give him a pointed look, he’ll eventually stop and sit next to you, placing his weapons out of reach to show he’s trying to be present.

ᰔ he takes forever to get ready. daryl's not exactly the type to spend time in front of the mirror, but he’s got a peculiar routine when it comes to preparing for a trip or even just heading out for a short errand. you’d think a guy like him would be quick to throw on some clothes and go, but no - he’ll spend ten minutes checking his gear, making sure his jacket's right, his boots are clean, and that every tool is in place.   when you complain that he takes too long, he’ll just shrug, but if you get antsy or start giving him the silent treatment, he’ll throw his jacket on faster than usual and give you an exaggerated, "see? i'm ready. all set." it’s his way of apologizing, though he never really admits it.

ᰔ he’s a very attentive listener. daryl may not say much, but he listens to everything you say. when you’re talking, he’s paying attention, even if it’s just with a nod or a soft grunt of acknowledgment. when you need him to, he’s there to offer support or just quietly be by your side. you can tell he cares by how seriously he takes everything you say.   when you point out how good he is at listening, he might get a little embarrassed, but there’s no denying that he values your words. "i’m just listenin’," he’ll say, though it’s clear he’s more invested than he lets on.

ᰔ he’s always running late. while daryl doesn’t have a problem being punctual for important things like group meetings or during a crisis, when it comes to hanging out with you or something less urgent, he’s always late. it’s like he gets too caught up in his own world - whether it’s tinkering with his bike or cleaning his weapons - and forgets the time. you’re always the one waiting, tapping your foot impatiently.   when you point out that he’s late again, daryl’s awkward about it. he might grumble something about losing track of time, but if you call him out on it, he’ll try harder next time. when he finally shows up, he might bring you something small, like a coffee or a random flower he found on his way, trying to make it up to you in his quiet way.

ᰔ he’s super stubborn. daryl’s one of the most stubborn people you'll ever meet. once he has his mind set on something, there's no changing it. whether it’s about a decision or how to do something, he refuses to listen to advice, even from you. this makes it hard when you’re just trying to help or offer your thoughts on something.   when you get upset with him for not listening, daryl can get defensive and shut down for a bit, but if he notices you’re genuinely frustrated, he’ll quietly give in. it’s subtle, but he might come around later and admit, "maybe you were right about that," though it takes a lot for him to say those words directly.

ᰔ how he always remembers the small things. daryl doesn’t forget the little things about you - your favorite snacks, the way you like your coffee, or the book you were reading a few weeks ago. it’s not obvious to everyone else, but he picks up on these tiny details and quietly makes sure to remember them.   if you thank him for remembering something, he’ll look away, muttering, "wasn’t hard to remember." but you can see the small glimmer of pride in his eyes when you mention it. it’s just his way of showing he cares without saying it outright.

ᰔ he’s not the best at communication. daryl’s not great at expressing his feelings or talking things through. when something’s bothering him, he bottles it up until it eventually comes out in a gruff comment or an angry outburst. when you try to talk to him about it, he shuts down or deflects, and it leaves you feeling like you’re hitting a wall.   if you get upset by his lack of communication, he might get frustrated with himself, but after a while, he’ll sit down beside you and mutter something vague like, "i’m just not good with words, alright?" and while it’s not a full apology, it’s his way of showing he’s trying, even if it's not perfect.

ᰔ he’s very protective over you. it’s not always obvious, but daryl’s incredibly protective of you in small, subtle ways. whether it’s walking on the side of you closest to the road or keeping his eyes on you when you're around people, he makes sure you’re safe without saying much. his protectiveness is instinctual, and even though he tries not to be overbearing, it’s clear that he cares.   if you point it out, daryl might just grunt and say, "it's just how it is," but if you tease him about it, he’ll give a slight smile, even if it’s hidden behind a gruff exterior.

ᰔ his little, quiet gestures of affection. daryl's not big on grand gestures, but he has his own ways of showing affection. maybe it's putting his hand on your shoulder when you're cooking or a quick, unnoticeable touch to the small of your back when he’s walking beside you. these little actions are his way of staying connected to you, always. even if he’s not always vocal about it.   when you tease him about being more affectionate, he’ll act tough and deny it, but if you catch him staring at you for a moment too long, his cheeks might flush slightly, and he’ll grumble something under his breath like, "ain’t nothin’ wrong with it."

ᰔ his awkwardness around you when he’s nervous. daryl’s a lot more awkward than he lets on, especially when it comes to you. he has this habit of fidgeting with his hands, running them through his hair, or avoiding eye contact when he's nervous or unsure about something. it’s endearing, and you can’t help but smile when you catch him looking away quickly.   if you point out how cute it is that he’s acting all nervous around you, he’ll roll his eyes, but there’s a small part of him that warms up to your teasing. "shut up," he’ll mutter, but he’s secretly grateful you notice his little quirks.

extras:

ᰔ his stubbornness can cause fights. daryl’s stubborn streak is a part of him, but sometimes it gets in the way. like the time you tried to convince him to let someone else take over a chore so he could rest. he brushed you off, muttering something about not needing anyone's help. you let it go at first, but when you pressed him again later, he snapped with a sharp, "just leave it, alright?" the comment cut deeper than he probably meant it to, and you walked away without another word. later that night, you heard him fumbling around outside your door. eventually, he knocked, muttering, “ya awake?” when you opened it, he stood there awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot. "didn’t mean to bark at ya earlier," he said quietly, looking at the floor. "just... don’t like feeling useless." his honesty softened your frustration, and when he finally glanced up, the genuine regret in his eyes made it hard to stay mad.

ᰔ he struggles with communication, and it can leave you upset. daryl’s not great with words, and sometimes his silence feels like a wall between you. like the time you asked him what was wrong after a long, tense day, and all you got was a gruff, "nothin’." you tried to push him gently, but he just shrugged and walked off, leaving you feeling shut out. it wasn’t until much later, when he found you sitting outside alone, that he tried to fix it. he sat down beside you without a word, passing you one of the beers he’d been holding. after a long stretch of silence, he finally muttered, “ain’t good at this kinda thing.” you looked over, and he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “don’t mean i don’t wanna talk to ya. just... takes me a minute.” it wasn’t a perfect apology, but it was enough to remind you how hard he was trying, even if he didn’t always have the words.

🌀 daryl dixon : @v3lv3tf0x, @dugiioh, @whxtewolf, @lemoanaid, @sunnykittyzz

@california-boys-and-sun, @cable-kenobi, @omen-keke, @hhiggs

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[mattluvr]

dad!matt, a concept.

best read in dark mode ⏾

🧸 part ii — the labour. . .

ᡣ𐭩 october 22nd. 6am. exactly one day late, and yours and matt’s daughter is on the way.

you’re nervous, naturally, the mere sight of the soaked bedsheets from where your waters broke moments ago making your chest feel tight; it hadn’t really sunk in that you’d actually have to give birth eventually, the pain slowly creeping its way through your body planting reality in place. even more so when the first contraction grips you.

you move towards matt, seeking comfort in his hold as the pain ripples through you. “fuck, i didn’t think it would hurt this bad.” you mutter through gritted teeth, nails clamping onto matt’s shoulders.

he sighs, rubbing the small of your back in soft circles as his eyebrows draw together. he’s concerned, obviously, but the contraction passes quickly, and he seizes the opportunity to grab your hospital bag and pack you up into the car.

after you did your hair and makeup of course.

ᡣ𐭩 the journey to the hospital is more dangerous than the one from your labour scare a month ago; matt drives faster with only one hand on the wheel, the other clutched in yours as you use it to ground you through each contraction.

they’re more often and closer together, which you know from the endless pregnancy books you read is a telltale sign of your cervix dilating, and you silently start to pray this also means that the rest of pregnancy goes smoothly, complication free.

although, judging by the death grip matt has on your hand, you’re not sure whether you can rule out the prospect of your boyfriend fainting from pure stress.

he pulls into the hospital’s parking lot in a record time of 10 minutes, at least five speeding tickets with his name written all over them, but does not stop to give either of you time to breathe, a whirlwind as he rushes round to your side, hospital bag from the trunk already resting in the crook of his arm.

you laugh, accepting matt’s outstretched hand as you amble towards the entrance to the hospital. “i’ve never seen you move you fast.”

ᡣ𐭩 you and matt check in at reception, with only one contraction marring your words, and the midwives are quick to find you a room and gown.

you change in the bathroom, trying your very best to ignore how the contractions make you double over each time, the green pattern on the hospital gown making your eyes hurt alongside the baby. you settle down in the bed and your midwife introduces herself to you and matt as she hooks you up to a monitor, the name betty suiting her grey curls and soft smile perfectly.

although you like betty less when she tells you that you’re only 3cm dilated. out of 10. matt swears your expression could curdle milk in that moment and he chuckles, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“you’ve got to remember that each birth is different, so this could take a long time or a short time.” betty reassures you as she props the pillows up behind you. “you can help the labour pass by moving around. we can bring in a yoga ball if you’d like?”

matt answers for you anyways. “absolutely.”

ᡣ𐭩 betty comes in throughout the day to check in on you; she brings you the yoga ball at 8am when you finally dilate one centimetre, helping you lower down onto the contraption, with matt by your side the second a sliver of pain crosses your face.

he rubs those soft circles into your back, and you rest your head on his torso when you bounce up and down. which obviously makes matt laugh, a mindless comment about how this is a familiar sight passing his lips, causing you to glare in turn, claiming that he’s making your contractions worse. that shuts him up.

ᡣ𐭩 at 10am, you’re 6cm dilated, the yoga ball long abandoned in the corner of the room; you now find yourself on all fours on the hospital bed, rocking back and forth slowly. in your head it’s helping with the pain, but the real soother is matt’s constant presence next to you, the simple sound of his breathes calming you.

he’s already made the respective phone calls to his parents and brothers, nick audibly crying from joy over the phone whilst chris whooped and cheered.

“I’M GOING TO HAVE A NIECE BY THE END OF THE DAY!”

“would you calm the fuck down?” matt had hissed. “we’re in a hospital right now.”

“i wish they could see my death glare.” you had piped up, easing your rocking to look over at matt. he offers you an apologetic glance, hushing a see you later to the boys on the phone before hanging up.

you don’t even let matt apologise, babbling out words before your next contraction hits you. “can you call my mom?”

he doesn’t even hesitate. and that’s why you love him.

ᡣ𐭩 the next hour flies by, a centimetre passing every 20 minutes, marking you at 9cm dilated by 11am and crying from how badly it hurts.

the midwives have moved you back to a flat position, your legs now in stirrups to give them easier access for checkups. matt is crouched down by your side, pushing your hair out of your face as you blubber in agony.

“i don’t think i can do this, matt.”

“are you kidding me?” matt squeezes your hand, his expression soft as he moves forward to peck your forehead. “you are the strongest, prettiest, most powerful girl i know. i love you and this baby, and i know you can do this.”

the tears from that point onwards are mixed with joy, comforted by matt’s presence beside you.

ᡣ𐭩 at 11:30am, you’re ready to have your baby girl. biologically, maybe not mentally, your chest tightening as betty tells you with a soft smile that you’re now ready to start the process of pushing. but on the other hand, you’ve gone through at least 20 years worth of pain in the space of 5 hours and want nothing more than to get this baby out of you. so you reluctantly agree.

with matt’s hand clutched in yours, you lean forwards into each push, ungodly screams leaving your mouth in an attempt to cancel out the pain gripping you.

“good work, keep going!” betty spurs you on, her scrubs confined by an apron as she waits in anticipation. “the head’s almost there, a few more pushes!”

you exhale, turning to matt who gives you an encouraging nod despite his pale complexion, the boy about three minutes away from fainting. which almost pushes you on, now desperate to get your daughter out into the world before her dad passes out. you sit up on your elbows once more, vision blurred as you start the final stretch.

the head is out before you know it, and with one more weak push, the rest of your daughter is out into the world, sobs spilling out of your mouth as betty brings her up to nestle by you.

her lungs are full, both your cries mixed together in the thick atmosphere of the hospital room, matt’s own tears hidden as he leans over to observe his baby, shaky fingers reaching out to caress her skin.

he moves back to press another kiss to your forehead. “i told you you could do it.”

ᡣ𐭩 october 22nd, at 11:33am, your daughter arrives into the world, and you and matt’s lives are about to be changed in the best ways possible.

taglist. . .

( @aelinslegend, @mattslolita, @emely9274, @conspiracy-ash, @chrissturniolossidehoe, @mattbrainrot ) is open!

[clarkeybabey]

❝ playing my heartstrings like a rock star ❞

# summary; you're messing with his feelings and he doesn't understand why

# playlist; hey arthur!, arthur hill, think i'm in love with you, chris stapleton, please notice, christian leave

# word count; 1.9k

# note; i needed a happy ending my first fic on here cant be angst<3 I did not proofread this so sorry

The three boys sat in their sitting room, a comfortable silence lingering as they scrolled through their phones. "Arthur wants to know if we're going to come to the pub with him," George finally spoke up, looking to his friends and mentally crossing his fingers they'd agree. They deserved it after the week they've had.

Arthur chews the inside of his lip waiting for Chris' reply, not wanting to be the one to reject the invitation, but he knows you'll be there after your earlier text about going for drinks.

Chris shrugs laying his phone down next to him, "I don't see why not," both he and George stand, heading in the direction of their bedrooms to grab sweaters and shoes, assuming everyone is down.

When they disappear from sight, Arthur finds himself groaning, pressing his palms so hard to his closed eyes that he sees stars dotting his vision when he eventually opens them. It's not that he doesn't want to see you, he knows that when he does he can't resist the later idea of going home with you and he hates himself for it.

"They can't know," you always say, referring to your shared group of friends, "it'll throw off the dynamic, you can just come to my flat for the night on the weekend." You're grown adults, who cares what you get into when you're alone? He doubts anyone would really care as much as you think, but every time he tries to express that someone ends up with their feelings hurt, and 99.9% of the time they're his.

He makes his way to his room, spending more time than he cares to admit trying to find the cologne he knows is your favorite. His closet's a mess, but he finds the jumper you love to steal kicking himself for trying so hard as he throws it on over his old t-shirt. He stands in his bathroom pulling a baseball cap on to cover how flat his hair had become from lying on the couch for the last two hours.

Chris is yelling something from the kitchen about how he's worse than a woman about his looks, he can't find it in himself to care enough to think of a witty reply, instead just shoving his hands deeper into his pockets.

their bar of choice isn't far so they decide walking is the better and cheaper option, the walk is quick, and he stays a few paces behind his friends with music playing in his airpods as he gives himself a pep talk preparing to see you.

You sit at the bar with Becky and Arthur chatting about everything and nothing all at once, "You know, babe, I still need to get you on see it off, George and both Arthurs have nominated you now," she remarks, smirking as she brings her pint to her lips, you look to Arthur whos nodding along with her.

As the three of you chat, you're practically yelling over the people around you, "Let me know a date and we'll get it sorted," you smile, Arthur pipes up about needing the toilet and slips off his stool heading off in the direction of the restrooms.

As soon as he's out of sight, she scoots into the seat he once inhabited with her brows raised, "Anything new with you and Mr Hill?" You sigh, dreading having to answer that question, "There won't be anything new ever I don't think, I've made it clear how bad of an idea we are," your stomach turns at your own words, suddenly feeling a wave of nausea wash over you.

It wasn't like you didn't want anything other than to be with him, but everyone was so close and the what if's shadow how good the relationship could be.

What if something bad happens and you can't spend time together as a big group any longer? What if you couldn't film together? What if you had to listen to songs written about how bad of a girlfriend you were? She groans, her head falling onto her crossed arms, "You're so doubtful, darling. Give him a shot, he's such a sweet boy, especially to you." She sounded exactly like your mum when you told her the same thing after he came home with you one weekend. Sighing you continue, "I've never met someone like him-" You're cut off suddenly as rough hands slap over your eyes, "Guess who," George Clarke and his atrociously fake, heightened voice are quite unmistakable, you shove his hands away, giggling, and spin on your stool.

Your heart thumps against your chest, rattling your ribcage knowing there's no chance he and Chris showed up without the one person you've been waiting all week to see, sure enough there he is, though he's not even looking in your direction instead his eyes are glued to his phone screen with both headphones in, obviously not wanting to be here in the slightest.

You greet the boys not really paying any mind to anything being said, keeping your attention on Arthur the whole time. finally, once the four of your friends are distracted, you slip off your barstool and join him at the table he was sitting at alone, "You alright?" your question hangs in the air as you sink your teeth into the plush of your lower lip, "Fine, thanks," he replies dryly going out of his way to seem as uninterested as possible.

Scoffing, you snatch his phone from his hand, pausing whatever was playing on his Spotify, "Talk to me, please? I missed you." His eyes soften at your words as he fights with himself not to give in to you too easily, "missed you too," he mumbles as he picks at the skin on his fingers anxiously wanting to spew all the thoughts he's having about the two of you. Together.

Luckily for him, you beat him to it, "I wanna be with you," your words are lost to him at first as he sputters, not truly believing what he's just heard. He hates the way you can read his mind, "Like, seriously, I mean it, but we can't" he shakes his head bitterly, thinking this has to be some sort of sick joke you and Becky had strewn together.

"Do you know how many times I've heard that, y/n? I mean, seriously, tell it to someone else." He sounds so dismissive, and it hurts, but nothing hurts as bad as the sight of tears welling up in his pretty eyes. You just sit there, looking at him blankly with a lump forming in your throat, searching his eyes for something other than what he's said, but you can't seem to find it.

You scoff sliding his phone across the table back to him, "Right, sorry," you nod biting at the skin on the inside of your cheek, you turn on your heels and Arthur hates the look that you give him over your shoulder as you wrap your arms around yourself, like you see right through his attitude into the deeper side of things.

When you return George is wearing the glasses you mistakenly left in now-drunk Becky's purse, faking your accent in the worst way you've ever heard, "Those are prescription, you're gonna hurt your eyes," you sigh shaking your head, doing your best to smile. You pull them away from his face by the bridge, folding them to tuck into the v of your top, "Think 'm gonna get going," you mumble, avoiding everyone's eyes as the laughter dies down.

"So soonnnn?" Becky pouts jutting out her bottom lip for good measure, tucking your phone into your back pocket, murmuring something about how you have to film in the morning. Your friends say goodbye as you go around hugging everyone, when you get to Chris he pulls you in and whispers into your ear, "Take Arthur with you, please? He's bloody miserable." His breath is hot and riddled with the smell of beer as it fans across your face.

From across the room, Arthur feels his blood run hot as Chris whispers something to you and his hand lingers on your waist for longer than he deems friendly or comfortable, rolling his eyes he nibbles at the dry skin on his bottom lip until he begins to notice the familiar metallic taste of blood linger on his tongue. Nothing about this evening was going well and it just seems like lives trying to get back at him for something he doesn't even know he's done.

He was too busy in his own head to notice your presence just next to him, "C'mon, my uber's waiting," nearly falling off his stool as your words snapped him from the trance he was in, "Not up for it tonight," you scoff at his words, of course, he's thinking the opposite of what you had planned.

"Don't want you to fuck me, just wanna spend time with you," His brows raise involuntarily at your bluntness, a smirk playing on his lips, knowing you can't stay away just as much as he, boosts his confidence every damn time.

He doesn't find it in himself to reject you again, simply sliding off the still and interlocking your fingers, hoping to God every one of your friends is watching. As you make it outside your uber is in fact not there, he's about a mile out so you lean against the brick wall, Arthur's close proximity looming over you, "What was Chris on about?" Your drooping eyes shoot open, and the jealousy in his voice makes you smirk, seeing an opportunity to toy with him, just a bit,

"What's it to you," you shoot back, arms crossed over your chest he steps closer suddenly invading your space, his cologne which so happens to be your favorite begins to cloud your nose and mind as your chest rises and falls, adrenaline coursing through your veins. "You know exactly what it is to me, sweetheart."

His thumb and forefinger grip your chin forcing you to meet his eyes, the rings of his hands are cold against your heating face, "If 'm going home with you, I suggest you share." Your breath hitches at the dominance that's suddenly radiating off him, you fight the urge to let your eyes roll back into your head as his breath fans across your face, instead letting them fall closed once more.

You swallow, once more allowing eye contact, "He thought you were miserable and I should take you home with me." The smirk on your face makes Arthur regret ever telling Chris and George about how he'd wanted to spend more time with you. "I want to give this a shot," he scans your face waiting for you to remind him how you shouldn't but you don't say anything else.

"You mean it," his thumb rubs circles on the exposed skin of your hip, you nod, knowing words would betray you, "Need to hear you say it," he sounds breathless, looking at you with hopeful raised eyebrows.

"I wanna be your girlfriend-" his lips meet yours before you can even finish your thought, both hands cupping cupping your face. A wolf whistle comes from your immediate left and he pulls away but doesn't step back, shielding you from view, though you see over his shoulder as both George and Arthur hand Becky what look to be ten-pound notes.

[wardenparker]

In the Still of the Night, ch 3

Zach Wellison x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Grown up and looking to the future, Zach Wellison and bunkmate Shane Morrissey are working for a new cruise line that offers its guests a vintage Vegas experience on the Mediterranean. The romantic atmosphere is rubbing off on many of the crew members, and Zach finds himself to be no exception when he meets the beautiful lead singer of Shane's band.

But being wrapped in the seductive arms of an atmospheric cruise is a far cry from real life. How will their relationship fare on dry land? They can't know unless they try.

Rating: E for Explicit 18+ Word Count: 8.8k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this story include: Cursing, alcohol, food, cooking, eating, discussion of clothing/costumes. Mentions of prison time served, mentions of past homelessness.* Flirting, still a little awkwardness, blindfold, sensory deprivation, foreplay, oral sex (female receiving). Summary: Your day out with Zach gets more intense at every turn. Notes: Hopefully you're all enjoying the prolonged date as much as we -- and they -- are! (As always, chapter gifs are for the vibes, not to physically describe the characters.)

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2

It isn't hard for anyone who sees you during the rest of the day to spot the dreamy couple out on a date. The older woman who shows you to your table at the restaurant Zach picked out for dinner gives you a wink in agreement that he's an absolute cutie pie and comes back a few minutes later with two glasses of wine and a candle for your table despite none of the others having one set out.

He had chosen a restaurant that was more local than tourist and had been thrilled when there was no formal dress code. Eager to sit down with you after so much walking and talk about more of anything and everything that has been the topics of the day. “So how did you start out singing?” He asks curiously.

“My elementary school had a chorus.” It might be the first time in hours you haven’t been holding hands, but you’re still smiling as you sit side by side with your wine watching the sun set. “I stuck with it because I was a kid and it was fun, then the dance lessons got added, and then as I got older I realized that I also liked theater. It became a combination.”

“So you were a theatre kid.” He nods in understanding. He hadn’t been, but he had been friends with some and understood the passion of performing even if he didn’t have it.

“That’s how I ended up in New York.” You tell him, expression twisting into something like regret. “Just another small town kid convinced they could be the next Broadway star. Obviously that didn’t happen.”

“But you tried.” He reminds you, leaning against your shoulder and wishing he could take away the sadness. “Some people never try.”

“I go between thinking that maybe I should have tried harder, and wondering why I ever bothered at all.” With that offer of support there, you lean against his shoulder in turn and shrug gently. “It is what it is, I guess. But…how did you start cooking?”

Zach sighs softly, knowing that it would eventually come up. “Actually, I just started cooking a few years ago.” He admits.

“You did?” That surprises you enough to turn your head and look at him more fully. “So it’s just at natural talent, then?”

“I guess?” He shrugs slightly. “I got a job working in a kitchen. Saved my life.” He tells you. “Threw myself into it and experimented as much as I could and read everything I could get my hands on.”

“So you stumbled into your calling.” There is something else there, something he doesn’t want to tell you, so you don’t push. “That’s wonderful, though. Some people never find what they’re meant to do in their whole lives.”

“It helps with my anxiety.” He admits with a self deprecating grin. “So I decided that it was the best thing for me. One day I’d like to have a restaurant. One that I can plan every detail, down to free meals for the homeless.”

“I love that.” Without hesitation, the idea is not only a kind one but one you can tell means a great deal to him. “Some places have a system where you can pay for meals for others in advance, too. System like that can be used to pay for extra supplies so no one ever has to be turned away.”

“That would be amazing.” He’s had benefited from that kind of system before, but not often. And he knows how uplifting a good, hot meal can be when you are down.

"You can make it happen." Something in your gut tells you that he can and he will, and even though you have no stake in it, you can't help but feel proud of him for that.

“I’m hoping.” He flashes you a grateful grin. Even your confidence in him sounds so sure when he’s always wondered if he can succeed. “The club on the ship has given me so many ideas.”

"I've been eating your ideas," you remind him with a grin. "And they're fantastic. You're really good, Zach. Any place would be lucky to have you and any team would be lucky to have you lead them."

“What about you?” He asks. “This has to be a stepping stone for you. I’ve already heard from the crew that you might have some head hunters after you.” One of the passengers was apparently connected in the music industry and had been in to the club several nights.

"If I do, that's news to me." Whatever murmurings Zach has heard, you haven't. But you would be lying if you claimed not to be curious. "I don't know, honestly. I think I would rather be a headliner in a little club than wave a rose in a Broadway chorus for the rest of my life. But the chances of either are relatively slim." You take a sip of your wine and offer him a smile, shrugging one shoulder. "In my dreams I'm getting top billing in the biggest musicals and you're running the most popular restaurant in the country. Ultimate New York City power couple."

“That sounds amazing.” Zach chuckles. “Actually, running this style club, I think it would work in New York.” He tells you. “A dinner club.”

"I know it's something that you see in retirement communities in Florida, but I have always loved dinner theater." His laugh is sweet and deep and rolls through you like a wave of joy. "This club is such a great gig for people like us."

“Yes it is, but imagine….” He sighs softly. “Creating a headliner show like you would see in Vegas, right in New York and pairing it with a daily changing menu like we do here.”

"New York would love a show like that." It sounds so doable when he says it. Like a dream you could reach for and pluck out of the sky.

“It would be sold out.” He agrees, flashing a hopeful smile. “One day, maybe if I had the right singer to run the show side of things.”

"I guess you're going to have to get to know some singers then, aren't you?" His bright smile is reflected right back at him, teasing as always but it's because part of you can't dare to dream this big for yourself. Only for him.

“I will.” He nods and shrugs. “Maybe hold auditions or something. Singing for your supper?”

"That's what most of us do." You agree, not wanting your smile to flicker at all even if the memories sting. "Sometimes literally."

Zach catches the change, the dimming of the light in your eyes and he knows that he’s touched on a sensitive topic for you. “I get it.” He promises quietly. “I think I gravitated towards cooking because I knew if I was making food for others, I would not have that gnawing ache of hunger ever again.” He licks his lips. “Food insecurity, the therapist called it.”

Your heart sinks, chest tightening, and you nod as you slip your hand back into his. "I wish I was more surprised to find out that more than a few of us have been there. But a job like ours...with guaranteed housing and meals and a way to save money for months at a time? It makes sense that it would attract people who have had it hard."

Of course you would be understanding. His eyes close as he nods, feeling a little choked up by the compassion in your voice and the understanding in your touch. “Absolutely. And I hate that you’ve had a moments bad luck.” He murmurs. “You deserve so much.”

"So do you." You squeeze his hand gently. "Bad luck doesn't make us bad people."

“Not at all.” His hand slips from yours and his arm wraps around your shoulders protectively. “Now - before we start choking up, what do you want to try?” He wants this date to be nothing but a lovely moment for you and he tries to steer the conversation to more positive thoughts.

Without saying another word about it, you turn your head to kiss his cheek and refocus on the menu in his hands. They have enough tourists in town that the menu from this restaurant has one-sentence item descriptions in English that simply tell non-Greek speakers the main ingredients of each dish. A quick glance around you shows you that everything here seems to be served family style, and you settle in Zach's side again happily.

"How does this sound?" You ask, pointing out the special. Gamopilafo. The menu says, with Arnáki Stamnagathi. "Greek risotto with lamb and vegetables?"

“That sounds amazing.” Zach groans happily and nods. “Do you want to get that and something else?” He doesn’t want you to share with him if you are just trying to make the bill cheaper, he can afford paying for dinner.

"It looks like it's family style? Maybe we can get another side dish to go with it so we can try more?" You shrug slightly, knowing that food was just a topic of some stress for both of you. "Sharing sounds nice. But not if you don't want to."

“I’m not opposed to sharing at all.” He promises, leaning in and nudging his nose to yours. “I’ll share anything with you.”

"Promises, promises." It's too tempting to have him close and not indulge in another kiss, but you keep it short and chaste in case Zach isn't too into public displays of affection. The half dozen or so kisses that you have shared today have been relatively private so you want to respect that for him.

Zach smiles, beams really. “What else do you want, baby?” The term of endearment slips out, but he doesn’t try to take it back or apologize. Feeling like it’s just the natural next step of this amazing day.

While the honest answer is him, that isn't what he's asking so you pull yourself out of the dirty thoughts you've been having on and off all damn day and look back down at the menu. In the top section there is something that lists cheese, fruit, bread, and flavored local olive oil, so you point that out. "Cretan charcuterie plate to start?"

“I think that’s a good idea.” Zach agrees and smiles at you. “We can see if we can come up with our own ideas for a board.”

"We'll have enough menu ideas for three new restaurants if we let our imaginations wander." Which is not a bad thing at all, but it does have both of you grinning when the waitress comes over to take your order.

Zach orders for the both of you, checking in with his eyes to make sure that it’s everything you want and hands the menu over with a pleasant smile for the waitress. Enjoying the knowing glances she shoots between the two of you. “I think that she thinks we are newlyweds or something.” He confesses quietly when she walks away. “What do you think?”

“Maybe.” Don’t be so you, you remind yourself for the hundredth time in your head. “I don’t know how many people come around here being cuddly on a fantastic day-long first date.”

“It has been fantastic, hasn’t it?” He muses, reminding himself that neither one of you has walked away or even been upset today. Not really.

“I think so.” There are clearly more things to talk about in your future, but today has left you optimistic that that future could exist. “I’m glad you do, too.”

“So, what’s your favorite type of wine?” He asks. “With charcuterie? Are you a white wine or sangria girl?”

“I’m a whatever wine you serve me kind of girl,” you tell him with an amused laugh. “But I do love sangria. There are very few things that aren’t made better with a glass of sangria or a margarita.”

“A margarita; huh?” He smirks. “Salt on the rim or sugar?”

“Depends on the flavor.” After all, your palate isn’t nonexistent, it’s just uneducated. “But usually salt.”

“A watermelon margarita is my favorite.” He admits. “Salt and sugar on the rim.”

“Salt and sugar?” That has you raising an eyebrow. “Color me intrigued.”

“It’s delicious.” He chuckles. “Goes with a hamburger or ribs. Drinks just like water.”

“That sounds incredible.” It sounds absolutely mouthwatering, actually, and you crack a grin. “Maybe I’m just really hungry.”

“Next crew party why don’t we do sliders and margaritas?” He offers. “I think you’d love it.”

“It sounds amazing.” You can agree to that without hesitation. “But I would also eat an old sneaker if it came out of your kitchen, so just know I’m always here for your food.”

“So boil shoe leather.” He pretends to make a note and laughs when you shove him playfully.

“You boil shoe leather and I’ll sing scales off key. Our worst work night ever.”

Zach throws his head back and laughs. The deep, belly laugh of a man who is completely convinced that it possible could happen and finds it up-roaringly funny. “You’re perfect.”

“You’re perfect.” He doesn’t need to know that a musical lyric sprung to mind instantly. He doesn’t need to know that you’ve been thinking it for an hour or more now. But you do hope he knows that the absolute affection shining in your eyes is honest and real.

He hums, not exactly able to take a compliment as well as he can give one. Instead he clinks his wine glass against yours. “To being perfect together.” He offers with a smile.

Neither of you take compliments well, you note with a smile, but drink deeply from your glass and enjoy a private smile that he unknowingly completed the thought of the song lyric in your head. “I know you’re supposed to wait until the end of the date to say it,” you set down your glass, thank the waitress when she brings over the first course, and restart your thought after a few seconds. “But I really think we should do this again.”

Zach’s heart leaps at your comment, happy that you have said that. “Well, of course we should.” He agrees, winking at you as he starts to dip a crusty piece of bread into the seasoned olive oil. “But I was thinking maybe we spend a little more time together on the ship when we can?”

"We could always skip the crew parties now and then to have time to ourselves." Following suit, you dive into the cheese board along with him. The cured olives and soft cheese are calling your name. "I wouldn't mind that at all."

“I mainly go to the crew parties to see you.” Zach confesses with a shy smile, offering you the dipped bread after he’s spread a bit of goat’s cheese on top of it.

"I–" Your eyes drop, your whole face heats, and you clear your throat before offering him an olive that you have stuffed with a pinch of soft sheep's milk cheese. "I go to the crew parties to see you."

Zach snorts and shakes his head. “We are pathetic.” He teases. “Mooning over each other and not even aware of it until Shane makes you take me a drink.”

"He tried to tell me," you admit after trying the bite that Zach made for you. Like everything else he's ever fed you, it's perfect. "I just...didn't really think I had a shot."

“He would always talk about you.” He huffs. “Making that crush I was suffering under nearly unbearable.” He smirks. “I guess he was hoping to push me into making a move.”

“And when you didn’t, he pushed me instead.” Which is a very Shane thing to do, really. He’s always been a little bit too cocky for his own good. “He’s like my big brother. So it makes perfect sense that he would meddle endlessly.”

“He basically adopted me once we became roommates.” Zach agrees. “He’s a good guy with a surprisingly big heart.”

“It took him a while to get there,” you acknowledge, not quite knowing how much of Shane’s story he had shared with Zach. “But now that he has? He’ll be damned if he doesn’t help everyone that he can.”

“Yeah.” Zach nods. “From what he’s told me, he’s completely different than when he was first sent away.”

“He showed me a picture once. Oh how he dresses and everything back then.” Just keeping the topic about appearance is lighthearted. That way you don’t dip too far into past seriousness. “Even if that was the only thing that changed, he really is a completely different guy now.”

“Jet black hair.” Zach snorts, shaking his head. “Dude has amazing hair now. I’m a little jealous of it.” Shane still has earrings, but he’s no longer sporting the goth edge he had back in his younger years.

“Do you ever think about growing yours out?” Zach still has short-trimmed hair that is probably a cinch to take care of, but he might look great with it longer.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve worn it long.” He admits, rubbing his hand up the back of his head. “Since high school.” He snorts. “But I’ve not given it a lot of thought, honestly. Why? You think it would look good longer?” He asks, curious about your preferences. Everyone has them, it’s like preferring clean shaven over a beard.

“I caught myself wondering once if your hair was curly when it grows out,” you admit, clearing your throat a little from being flustered. Admitting that you’ve wondered and daydreamed about him is a big step to your mind.

“Yeah?” A slow, pleased grin starts to stretch across his face as he turns back towards you again. “Daydreaming about running your fingers through my hair?”

“Maybe.” The huff in your voice is pure embarrassment, though you’re glad that he seems to like the idea rather than being weirded out by it.

“Then I have to confess something…” he drops his voice down to a whisper like it’s a secret. “I really love when the hairdresser runs her fingers through my hair when cutting it.”

It feels like a far more visceral tease than you’ve been giving him, and you can practically feel how soft his shirt hair is when your eyes flick up to it. “Noted,” you manage to huff out a second later, banishing the mental image of Zach beneath you as you card your fingers through growing curls.

He smirks and winks at you when you manage to look at him again, finding it incredibly empowering to know that you are on the same level as he is. Both of you wanting so much, but being too shy to reach for it. Someone will have to make a move, but right now, he’s enjoying the flirting and bantering.

Neither of you seem to care much that it takes longer to make bites out of your appetizer if you hold hands, enjoying the small show of intimacy more than anything else. You're loathe to give up that connection now that you have it.

Zach enjoys sharing with you. Often making bites for you to try, and he smiles every time you groan in pleasure.

“Just because I have no idea how to cook anything doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy it,” you insist, and you’re laughing together when your waitress brings out your shared entree. The large and shallow bowl is obviously meant to be shared but is beautifully arranged — vegetables bringing color with the creamy risotto-like grains and tantalizingly seared and roasted lamb.

“Many blessings.” She is smiling at both of you as she puts the food down between you. “Happy marriage to young love.”

“Thank you.” Zach doesn’t correct her, beaming instead and bringing up your hand and kissing the back of it. If they believe that you are newlyweds, who are you to disclaim it?

Seeing him go with the assumption instead of correcting the woman makes your heart swell. There is something deeply soft and intimate about the gesture and you’re sure you must look so deeply entranced by your date that protesting wouldn’t do any good anyway.

“Soulmates?” The older woman asks, looking at the two of you with the pride of a grandmother.

Zach bites his lip, unsure of how to answer that, so he just wings it. “What do you think?” He asks, reaching out and caressing your cheek. “She’s perfect, isn’t she?”

"Very." The woman agrees, and with another proud smile she clasps both of your shoulders and heads off again to the kitchen with the purpose and speed of someone off to share vital gossip.

Zach smiles at you. “Well, I guess that makes us official.” He hums. “What do you think?” He asks, lifting a brow. “Want to be my girlfriend? Or should we jump straight to soulmate and wife?” He asks. “We’ve already gotten approval here.”

"It might be a little dramatic to show back up to the ship married." And yet you're grinning. You're absolutely beaming at him in a way that can't possibly be contained and for the first time today you don't want it to be. "But I love the sound of girlfriend."

“I’m sure we wouldn’t have been the first couple to have done that.” He doesn’t take offense to you ignoring the remark about soulmates. He’s seen you without sleeves enough to know that you don’t have his tattoo. You can’t be his soulmate, but he is drawn to you like he’s never been to another woman. “But girlfriend sounds perfect to me too.”

"I'm not one of those people that swears soulmates are the only possible relationship," you explain, as the two of you rearrange your little table to share your entree comfortably. The waitress had also brought you fresh drinks so the little table is loaded down with tantalizing options. "My parents aren't soulmates and they've been happily married for almost forty years. It's a great thing, but I always thought choosing your person yourself was more important than anything else."

“Interesting.” Zach is impressed and he nods. “I know that soulmates aren’t everything, but my parents were.” He tells you, smiling a little sadly. “They were probably the best relationship I’ve ever seen.”

"We both had good role models for healthy relationships. That's far more rare than it should be, I think." You note the past tense in his words but don't push, instead watching as he carefully serves the meal onto the two smaller plates you were given.

The lamb smells amazing and Zach is already drooling, imagining what he could make. “Are you ready to give me ideas?” He teases as he looks up from finishing plating.

"Dinner ideas?" You raise an eyebrow at him and pick up your fork, feeling bold with the help of the waitress who broke the ice and managed to make you Zach's girlfriend with a touch of cute teasing. "Or dirty ideas?"

“I accept all ideas.” Zach promises, his voice dipping down slightly, turning sensual.

"Fuck." Even just a quiet groan of frustration from you is enough to let him know exactly where you're at. Every single time he kisses you, you're convinced that you're going to soak through your shorts, and you no longer care if he knows it or not.

“I’ve been thinking about something.” Zach starts, forking up a bite of the risotto and trying it with a groan of approval.

"Tell me." There have been a few more serious topics touched on today without delving too deep, but you have faith that whatever it is that's on his mind won't be bad.

“We don’t have to be back on the ship until tomorrow morning.” The club is closed for the night while in port since the majority of the passengers are on shore. “What do you think about not going back tonight?”

"Like...find a little hotel?" Your fork is halfway to your mouth when you meet his eyes, seeing that there is the same spark of desire there as in your own. "That would certainly be more comfortable than using one of our bunks after we kick our roommate out," you agree, letting a grin crawl across your face.

“We don’t have to.” He stresses, not wanting you to feel like he expects to spend the night with you.

"I know." But you shrug with just a touch of guilt. "And if you want to wait that's totally fine. But...I definitely want to."

“I want to.” He is quick to reassure you of that. “I really want to. I just—” he bandied about for the right words. “Didn’t want to come off as pushy.”

"Pushy is normally my problem." you promise him. "The other part of Shane's whole 'be less you' advice was not rolling up to our first date and telling you we would make beautiful children." It's still of a hell of a way to come on strong so you laugh it off, but it's true all the same. "You've been anything but pushy, baby."

“You would have beautiful babies with Shrek.” He snorts, shaking his head. “My genes would have nothing to do with it.”

"Don't count yourself out." The grin on your face slides sideways and the two of you dig into your dinner in earnest. "Those curls of yours on a little baby? Cuties."

He blushes slightly, imagining how a baby with you would look. It’s a fantasy that he never even imagined being able to consider just a few years ago. “Only because of you. And most babies are cuties anyway.”

“They are.” That’s just a fact as far as you’re concerned. The two of you continue to eat for another minute or so before your mind catches up with all the possible consequences of that topic coming up and you almost stutter as you reach for your wine glass. “I’m—I’m on birth control, though,” you point out. Like he might think you’re trying to baby trap him on the first date just because you think babies are cute. “That’s…like I want kids eventually but I’m not crazy about it.”

This is happening. Zach swallows a bite of the deliciously fragrant and juicy lamb so he doesn’t choke. “Good. I mean, I would still want to wear a- birth control shouldn’t just be on you.” He tells you. “I’m clean, but I- it’s always good to- you know, uh, be safe.”

“I’m clean too, and if you feel more comfortable with a condom that’s totally fine, I just—” Who knows if more wine is actually a good idea at this point but you take about gulp out of nerves. “I didn’t want you to think I had any motivation for…you know…tonight, other than really liking you.”

He has to laugh at that, reaching for your hand and winking at you. “You’re focusing on your career. I don’t think that your grand plan is to be knocked up by the chef of the club you headline your first contract out.” He promises.

“Well when you say it like that it sounds silly.” And yet? A part of you is certain, beyond any doubt whatsoever, that if it happened you could be such a happy little family.

He smirks slightly and reaches over to brush off a tiny bit of sauce on the edge of your mouth. “So we both know where we stand.” He hums. “Let’s just relax and enjoy where our night takes us.”

******

With the sun set and your meal finished, an intimacy has settled over you and Zach as you sip your coffee together and listen to the busy streets of Knossos bustle with tourists and nightlife. Normally you would be part of that. You would be out with friends or searching out a feeling to get lost in — but today has been so thorough in proving that you can simply get lost in Zach that you don’t want to stray. Everything you could possibly want for your night is right here next to you. And it’s a type of calming feeling that you don’t know you’ve ever felt with another person before.

“That was probably the best meal I’ve ever eaten.” Zach rubs his stomach appreciatively and looks over at you. “Lamb on the menu for the club?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” You’ll eat anything he cooks anyway. But having it be a special memory between the two of you? That’s worth bragging about. “With those whipped carrots you made yesterday? Oh my god.”

“You liked those?” He grins, loving feedback as much as the next person and if it comes from you it makes it even sweeter. “I’ve been thinking about making it a soufflé and putting a topping on it. Similar to a sweet potato soufflé? What do you think? Too much?”

“I don’t know,” you admit with a grin spreading across your face. “I’ve never had a soufflé before.”

“You’ve never had a sweet potato casserole?” His eyes widen. “You’re shitting me?”

You shrug weakly, yet can’t help but laugh at how strong his reaction is. “My dad hates sweet potatoes,” you explain between giggles. “We basically ate like toddlers in my house forever, because he only liked four or five foods.”

“Wow.” He chuckles. “So I know what I’m making you tomorrow.” He grins. “Roasted chicken with sweet potato soufflé, creamed spinach and a fresh cranberry compote.”

“We just ate.” Sure, your tone is complaining, but the teasing is clear and sparkling in your eyes. “Why do you have to make me hungry all over again?”

Laughing, he leans over slightly to pull his wallet out to pay. Having cash is something of a safety net to him, although he’s proud of the shiny credit card with a low limit as he builds his credit back up. Offers have started coming for pre-approval of credit limits, but he’s resisted getting one so far. He pays this card off every month like clockwork. “I’ll let you sleep it off first.” He promises.

A different woman comes out with your check and a small folded bag. She smiles when she sees Zach ready to pay, and hands you the bag. “Congratulations,” she explains in a thick but clear accent. “From my grandparents. They’re very flattered you chose their restaurant for your honeymoon.”

Zach immediately feels guilty. “No— nothing is necessary.” He promises, shaking his head. “We are happy to be here. The food was amazing.”

"It's just a few cookies," she promises, apparently charmed by the display of manners. "And we're always glad to have kind guests."

“Everyone here has been wonderful.” Zach smiles as he hands over his card. “Now we just need to find a hotel with people as wonderful.”

"You don't have a place to stay already?" The bill is easily and silently settled with the exchange of a few bills between them and the woman points down the beach to a three-story white building on the edge of the beach. "Dite is a beautiful hotel. Small. But very nice. And you will see the perfect sunrise in your room."

“What do you think, sweetheart?” He asks, turning towards you. “I think it sounds just about perfect, if they have a room available.”

“Small sounds perfect.” In fact, after the bustle of the ship, it sounds like a small relief. “Thank you for the suggestion.”

“I will call for you.” She offers. “Family.”

“That would be wonderful.” You look to Zach for confirmation. “The hotel is my treat. I promise.”

He huffs, frowning slightly at the notion of you paying and there is a grin on the woman’s face as she nods in approval. “I will go call right now and let them know you are coming.” She beams before scampering off.

“It’s okay.” Sensing a bit of hurt pride that you dismiss as typically male, you lean over and kiss Zach’s cheek. “You can buy our breakfast.”

He can’t tell you that it’s because he somehow still looks at someone paying for something – even if it benefits them – as a handout. That is way too deep for this date and probably means he needs to schedule a visit with the VA therapist next time he’s in New York. “Sounds good, sweetheart.” He hums.

It only takes a few minutes for the younger waitress to return, and when she does she is smiling broadly. To Zach she hands a slip with the name and address of the hotel. “They’re getting your room ready now,” she tells you both gladly.

“Thank you.” He smiles. “For everything.”

“Our pleasure.” She assures him, and trots off again after saying good night.

He turns towards you and gives you a searching look. “Are you ready?”

"Absolutely." Considering you can see the hotel from here, you don't mind walking. A stroll through the streets of the ancient city, hand in hand with your newly minted boyfriend? It sounds perfect to you.

Zach scoots out of the seat and holds out his hand to you. “Then let’s walk off this amazing dinner.”

The roads and the beach stretch on longer than you anticipate but the walk is welcome. You're most quiet, enjoying each other's company without the need to fill the air with idle conversation. You take in the city around you and the overwhelming number of tourists. The hustle and the bustle is beautiful, but something about the fact that you can be comfortable in the quiet with Zach brings and unexpected extra layer of intimacy to the night.

Walking hand in hand is intimate, serene. He doesn’t feel the need to make excuses or fill the silence, he just enjoys the way the smiles seem to be just for you as a couple, coming from others who pass you on the streets.

The hotel is clean and bright, and the extended family of the folks who owned the restaurant are as sweet as can be when you check in. They’ve put you in a top floor room facing the ocean and promise you it’s their best, and you and Zach take the stairs up after thanking them once more.

“I feel bad.” Zach muses. “They think we are on our honeymoon.”

“First dates can be just as special as honeymoons, right?” You offer as you make your way down the hall to your room. “I checked their rates online and it was the same as what we paid. So they’re not giving us big discounts or anything. If they had, I would have said something.”

“Good.” He feels better about that and his stomach twists in nervous anticipation. You both had stopped in a little shop where he had purchased a small box of condoms. They feel heavy in his pocket.

“Hey.” The leaden heaviness sits between you as you unlock the door to your room and push it open. Before you even make a move to step inside, you settle your hand on Zach’s arm and offer him a soft, reassuring smile. “Just because we want to doesn’t mean we have to tonight, okay? We can decide to just hang out and cuddle and sleep beside each other and it will still be perfect.”

“Are you having second thoughts?” He asks seriously, trying not to look disappointed, because he doesn’t want that to pressure you.

“Not at all.” You’re quick to assure him of that, pushing open the door and stepping inside. “You just seem…nervous? I don’t know, maybe I’m wrong.”

“Afraid of disappointing you.” He admits with a small huff of amusement at himself as he flashes you a grin. “It’s been a while for me.”

"Then I'm flattered you would choose me to be the one to break that dry spell with." It really is a vote of confidence from him, and you won't take that for granted. Despite the fact that you don't understand how in the hell anyone has ever let him go, you're glad to be the person that is here and ready to see all of the potential he has as a partner.

“I would be fucking crazy not to.” Zach snorts, shaking his head. “Baby you are gorgeous and kind, and everything I don’t deserve.”

"Hey now." You shake your head as you shut the door behind the two of you, flipping the lock and feeling the shiver of anticipation roll through you. But still, hearing him put himself down is the last thing you're comfortable with and when you turn back to Zach you slide your hands up his arms gently. "I wouldn't let somebody else talk about you like that, what makes you think you get to?"

“Habit.” He admits, biting his lip and reaching for your waist to draw you closer. “I’m working on it.”

"I'm here to remind you how incredible you are anytime you need." A strong support system means everything, you learned that the hard way. And you're more than happy to be that for Zach.

“Thanks.” There’s a bit gratefulness and quite a bit of amazement in his eyes as he looks at you. “You are absolutely amazing, you know that?” He asks. “You take my breath away.”

Your hands creep up his arms, sliding around his neck so your fingers can sink into his short, soft hair. "I'd be happy to do that for you literally, if you'd like."

“How would you do that?” He has a pretty good idea, but he wants to hear what you have in mind.

The hum that leaves your lips as you press your body against his is full of promise. "I'd start at the top and work my way down, of course," you tell him, bringing Zach down to meet your lips for a searing kiss.

He can’t help but groan, a grown man melting against you, but he’s already weak in the knees from the passion in just this one kiss. The sense of complete rightness that washes over him as his own arms band around you tighter and he starts to give back to you.

None of the kisses you had shared yet today had been allowed to be this deep. You were in public. You were sharing space with other people. And this is so intensely intimate. It would have felt wrong just to let other people see your naked heart out there on your sleeve. But when it is just the two of you locked safely away in the privacy of a hotel room? You would be a puddle at his feet if it weren’t for the uncanny strength of him holding you tight against his chest.

It’s not hard for his body to respond instantly. He’s already lived most of the day in a state of arousal just being around you. But with the length of your body pressed against his and your tongue coaxing his further into your mouth? He is rock hard and aching. Groaning slightly as he turns both of you towards where the bed should be based on the split second examination of the room earlier.

And just like that you feel ignited. The press of his body against yours as he steers you blindly through around the room is an errant spark that seems to catch on every inch of you. With one hand your fingers card and tug in his hair, nails grazing over his scalp. With the other you pull his shoulders to keep him impossibly close — feeling like you’ll forget to breathe if you stop sharing gasps with him between kisses.

You taste like sweet wine and cream. A perfect combination when mixed with something that is just…you. He can’t describe it, but it’s warm and earthy.

The backs of your legs bump against the bed frame, almost toppling you over and making you hang onto Zach all the more tightly, giggling into the kiss. “Oops,” You can’t help but laugh at how deeply uncoordinated it was, even as out of breath as you are. “Weak knees aren’t very stable, apparently.”

“Then we should lay down.” Zach suggests, grinning against your lips and starting to crouch down.

It doesn’t exactly take convincing. Not when every single time he’s kissed you today has turned you a soaking wet, needy mess. The fact that you finally get to do something about it is exhilarating and relieving all at once. “Hell yes,” you agree, nearly hauling him into the bed with you when you try to kiss him and move at the same time.

He laughs when you both nearly topple over, flopping down on your sides in a move that is not nearly as graceful as he had planned in his mind. “Eager?” He asks. Sliding his hand down your side to your ass.

“Oh, absolutely.” You smirk, but shift your leg ever so slightly so your thigh presses against the front of his shorts. “Just as much as you are.”

“Baby, have you looked in the mirror?” Zach groans, twitching under the pressure. “You’re a complete knockout and fucking sweet as pie.”

“As long as you like what you see, the mirror doesn’t matter.” What you see and what he sees looking at you will never be quite the same, so as long as he likes the version of you that he sees, you’re fine with it.

Zach doesn’t say anything else, he just slowly leans in and presses his lips to yours softly.

It’s such a sweet, gentle gesture that you melt deeper into the mattress. For that one moment there are no thoughts at all left in your head. It’s just Zach and the possibilities.

He follows you, body half covering yours as he lets the kiss deepen slightly. Not too much, but he squeezes your ass gently as he grinds into you.

The roll of his hips earns him a moan, and he swallows it up eagerly so you give him another and hitch one leg up to let him get closer.

He presses deeper into you, slotting his hips between yours as you open up and he gasps into your mouth when his hard cock presses against the heat of your core.

The heat in your belly flares hotter, wicking all the way Down your limbs, and you whimper again because you have no prayer of a coherent sentence or even word in that moment. There’s horny and eager then there’s whatever the hell you are as you grind your hips against his to beg for more.

It’s juvenile, but grinding against you over clothes while he kisses you is the height of eroticism right now. He groans into your mouth before breaking away, wanting to taste every inch of your skin.

He trails kisses along your jaw and throat, making your back arch and stealing your breath all over again. While he begins to travel south you tug at his shirt, trying to tear the damn thing off while your whole body aches for him.

Zach smiles against your skin, cutting his eyes up at you playfully. “You’re too impatient” he teases, pulling away. “Think I’ll blindfold you.”

You pout instantly, but the idea is intriguing enough that you raise an eyebrow at him. “Do I get to see you eventually?”

“Eventually.” He smirks, loving that you are going along with his little idea. “That way you can accurately judge how good I am.”

“I can’t judge your skills with my eyes open?” Delighted to have found him not so very vanilla after all, you let the hand you still have in his hair tug in his curls and grin when he moans.

“You might be overwhelmed by my good looks.” He chuckles and shakes his head. One of the things that made him suggest this is his tattoo. He didn’t want to have a ton of questions about it right now. This wasn’t the time for remembering the past, but enjoying the present.

“Is this a ‘hands off’ situation, too? Or can I at least still touch you?” There are plenty of things you’re willing to try out that you already know you enjoy that people might consider out of the ordinary, but the first time with a new partner you want to feel them in every way.

“You can touch me.” He promises. “I’m just feeling a little shy right now.” He jokes playfully, winking at you. “Don’t want you to get too scared.”

“You have nothing you need to be shy about, but I fully respect having a few hang ups. I’ve got plenty, too.” Reluctantly as you are to take your hands off of him, you reach for your belt instead — or rather, the long sash of fabric that you tied through your belt loops today because you thought it looked a little cuter than a standard belt. “Use this.”

“Are you sure?” He takes the fabric from your hands and holds it up to his eyes playfully.

“I trust you.” You trust him somehow inherently. As though it were as simple as trusting yourself. In a way that sticks in your chest and warms through you like hot cocoa in winter.

He watches you for a moment after pulling the scarf down from his face, “Okay.” He agrees. “I just want this to be something we never forget.”

“I can already guarantee I will never forget any part of today,” you promise him, shivering slightly with anticipation as he settles your former belt gently over your eyes.

He ties it firmly, but not too tight. If you need it off, all you need to do is slip it up your forehead or pull it down. The point of this is to be fun, to explore without judgement and he can’t do that if you are uncomfortable. “Hopefully that’s a good thing and it doesn’t go into your ‘worst dates’ catalog.” He jokes before he slides his hands down to the edge of your shirt to push it up your stomach and drop a kiss right above your belly button.

With every small touch now heightened, your skin tingles with the scrap of his calloused fingers and press of the feather-light kiss. “I don’t fuck on the first date unless it’s a really fucking good date.”

“Me either.” Zach smirks against your skin before he decides to nip your side slightly, laughing quietly when you jump and gasp at the grazing of his teeth. Instead of working down, he decides to work up and nuzzles just under the band of your bra.

One hand blindly makes its way to his shoulder again, grasping the thick cords of muscle there and reminding you just how powerful this broad man is that is being so tender and playful with you. At this point it’s Zach’s game — to explore and to pleasure and to discover — and every point of contact between you is a spark catching fire.

It takes just a second to discover that your bra hooks in the front, to Zach's utter delight, making it easy to unbind your breasts and capture a nipple in his mouth before your shirt is even off or your straps slid down your arms.

The heat and pressure of Zach’s mouth feels boiling even on this warm night, sending you gasping and cursing as you grip his shoulder tighter. If you get any wetter your shorts might outright dissolve, but he would probably consider that a bragging right.

Zach groans against your nipple, loving the little arch to your back, pushing your breast to his mouth more. Offering yourself up.

There is no steady rhythm to any of it as Zach works to take you apart piece by piece. He has a method in his madness, surely, but you are breathless and moaning as he reduces you to a human puddle on the bedsheets. While you can’t see him like this you can definitely feel him, and your hands tug at his shirt again to get that luscious skin-on-skin sensation as he starts to travel down your body.

He takes his time, learning the sensitive spots on your body and enjoying every soft sound he pulls out of your mouth. Until he is dragging your shorts down your legs.

It’s about fucking time says the impatient voice in your head as you squirm in the bed and lift your hips to help him move things along. He’s consented to take his shirt off, at least, so that warmth that rolls off of him in waves can seep directly into your bones. You whimper as the cool breeze of exposure hits your overheated cunt, dripping with need and aching for attention.

“Fuck, you look so pretty right now.” Zach groans at the sight of your wet lips, hair trimmed and manicured. You either were hoping that the night would end this way, or you were very meticulous about your grooming. He’s kind of hoping for the former even though he wouldn’t care if you had done anything. “Baby, you look good enough to eat.”

“Tease.” You whine, trying to sound huffy but only succeeding in strangling another moan when his breath ghosts over your swollen pussy. Even with his hands caressing your thighs, you’re squirming.

It’s been a long goddamn time since Zach has had a pussy in his face, but he loves the musky scent of your wet sex. Making him twitch and groan as he slowly spreads your lips wide for him to drag his tongue up your folds for that first, tantalizing lick.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—” With your back arching and your fingers tight in his hair, it’s so easy to lose yourself to one little taste.

He makes a sound of pleasure as he flicks his tongue over your clit and comes back for another pass. This time starting lower and letting his tongue tease your entrance before sliding higher.

If you weren’t blindfolded already you might have cum just from the sight of him. His lips and tongue explore while his hands keep you steady, holding you in place so the buck of your hips doesn’t unseat him before he can really get going.

He absorbs your sound, your taste. The very essence of your being, feasted on as he slowly and thoroughly licks through you like a meal he is savoring.

It’s a stunning combination of thorough exploration and eager enthusiasm that has you writing and moaning his name so quickly. You could have had a date yesterday and everything about tonight would already be better. Zach seems somehow to know exactly what you like without asking, reading your signals perfectly air pushing you higher and higher until his name is the only word on your lips.

Zach is completely entranced by the way you respond to his touch, never having a lover he feels so in-sync with. It’s like he’s touched you a million times before rather than just these last few minutes.

The whole world has stopped existing around you. It's just you and Zach and this bed and every new height of pleasure that he keeps building you to. The press of his hands on your hips, the deep push of his tongue, the sharp half-scrape of his teeth near your clit that he's discovered makes you gasp and moan.

“Cum for me baby.” He pulls away to gasp his plea, the need to see you fall apart about to rupture in his veins and make him go mad. His grip tightening on your hips and he dives back into your cunt with the desperation of a man starved that’s reached his oasis.

You don't have to tell me twice, you would say if you could swim through the thick mire of bliss to tease him. Instead, and much more true to the moment, you let out a sobbing moan and beg for just a little bit more to send you over the edge.

He hears the unspoken plea in your whimpers and opens his mouth wider to just devour you. Burying himself into your pussy where his nose is blocked by your mound as he pushes you over the edge and if he died in this moment, he would die blissfully happy.

Your back arches fiercely one more time, lifting your shoulders off the bed as you hit that sharp crest that explodes into your climax. All of your muscles tense and curses spill freely, interspersed with his name and moans entirely without words – until that crest becomes altogether too much, the thread mercifully snaps, and you fall back on the mattress an utterly satisfied puddle.

Zach is slow to pull his mouth away. Savoring the little tremors that race through your thighs and makes your pussy clench against his chin as he laps at your juices one last time before he lifts his head with a groan of satisfaction. “And just think, we’ve only started.” He hums playfully, knowing that the night has just begun.

------ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

ItSotN: @greenwitchfromthewoods @copperhalfcent @ariavitiellos @spishsstuff @76bookworm76

[suchine-toki]

About Takasugi's abuse

The other day (totally not months ago) we were talking with @sakukaguxxi about how Takasugi’s relationship with his bio family is overlooked in character analyses. While Sorachi didn’t delve deeply into this aspect, which isn’t inherently bad, I think it’s important for understanding why he turned out the way he did.

We know two canon facts: (1) he comes from a low-class samurai family, and (2) he’s the firstborn. This suggests his family held noble status but struggled to maintain it. As a result, they relied on him to preserve their standing, enrolling him in a military academy and being strict about how he interacted with higher-status classmates.

To enforce this, they employed harsh punishments, such as starving him, tying him to a tree and leaving him in the cold for hours, or physically hitting him with enough force to draw blood when he was just a child (~10 yo?). On top of this, the threat of disownment loomed over him constantly.

These actions indicate they didn’t see him as a person or a child worth protecting but rather as a means to an end (maintaining their status). Consequently, he grew up devaluing himself and lacking the tools to express love in a healthy way. This likely explains why he became so attached to Shouyo and Gintoki.

For Shouyo, he was probably the first and only parental figure to treat Takasugi with genuine respect. While he disciplined him, it was always treated lightly and without causing him any real harm, unlike his bio father. Shouyo provided basic necessities like food, warmth, care, but also a sense of belonging.

Regarding Gintoki, a lot can and has been said. On this topic, he may’ve downplayed or misunderstood the extent of Takasugi’s abuse. This can be inferred from his comments before meeting Sakamoto, where he jokingly implies that Takasugi is still a “daddy’s kid,” even though he knows Takasugi was disowned.

This is interesting because Takasugi mentions being disowned long ago, yet for Gintoki, it doesn’t seem so distant. The timeline is unclear, perhaps Takasugi’s father disowned him during childhood, or maybe he tried to bring him back for years until eventually giving up when Takasugi was a teenager and considered irredeemable.

Moving into non-canon territory, if we consider Takasugi Shinsaku (the historical figure) for inspiration, some gaps can be filled. He was the firstborn, with three sisters, and bore the responsibilities of being the sole male heir. His father reportedly tried to steer him away from radicalism, even arranging a marriage for him to settle down.

This aligns with a seemingly banal joke, that Takasugi owned The Portopia Serial Murder Case and a console to play it (a Famicom?). At first glance, it’s odd that an abusive family would buy him such things. However, abusive individuals aren’t cruel all the time. They can oscillate between being harsh and showing kindness, creating a cycle of manipulation and gaslighting. This could explain why it took Takasugi some time to leave, perhaps he realized they needed him more than he needed them or that they would never truly love him.

The lasting effects on him are evident. Takasugi struggles to express himself in ways that don’t involve violence, and saw himself as disposable, with no strong sense of self. He fought for Shouyo’s freedom, for Gintoki’s tears, and later, for Gintoki’s happiness. While these were his choices, they were never about himself, they were for the people he held close to his heart.

[thefirstlioveyou]

My interpretation of lonnie and will's (+ jonathan's) relationship from what we get from the show:

Lonnie is a neglectful and manipulative father above all, this is what the show tells us. He is a terrible father and person.

Lonnie wants to fix Will and change him. He forces him to play baseball and get into things he doesn't like to make sure he grows up to be a "real man." Joyce knows Lonnie believes he's a queer, a fag. There is no indication that he said it to Will's face, HOWEVER this doesn't make it any less worse. Lonnie still has homophobic opinions about his own son and is trying to "fix" him.

Then we get to the Jonathan and Will scene. Jonathan is trying to distract Will from their parents fighting. When Jonathan brings up Lonnie, Will just seems... Indifferent about him. He doesn't tense up or begin to show fear. He literally asks Jonathan "he isn't coming, is he?" with disappointment. In Billy's childhood memory playing baseball with his father, he literally tells him to leave him alone and runs away. (the parallels are indeed there, but are there to show different situations. billy fears his father because his father is explicitly cruel to him. will is clueless to his father's behavior because his father's cruel intentions are communicated differently through manipulation and control.)

He's indifferent because Will is manipulated by the false hope Lonnie may be giving him. Lonnie does this to Jonathan as well but he sees through it. He knows Lonnie already.

Will is holding onto hope Lonnie may show up more as a father. He wants more time with him. But what he doesn't know is the time Lonnie spends with him, he's actively trying to change him. Will goes with whatever he says because he's young and that's the type of person Will is. He doesn't stand up for himself and goes with whatever is being presented to him.

Jonathan points this out.

He makes Will aware of what Lonnie is actually trying to do. He's making it clear Lonnie isn't trying to be a father to him and spend time with him, he's trying to fix him and make him 'normal.'

Based on Will's body language and choice of words when talking about Lonnie, it seems to me he knows a different Lonnie than Jonathan does. Lonnie would pretend to be someone else to him and mask his true intentions.

Are there implications of physical abuse?

In a way? To me, Lonnie was physically aggressive in a playful but controlling way. In his eyes, it's playing. But he gets to choose when they play with no regard for what Jonathan wants. Lonnie masks it as playful behavior when in reality it's him wanting control and power over someone else. It still hurts Jonathan though. I don't know what to classify this as exactly, but it's wrong It's about the fact there is no consent.

Another example of Lonnie wanting control: Lonnie forces Jonathan to kill an animal with a gun, traumatizing him for a good while, in attempt to make him more of a man. Lonnie gets Will to play baseball to make him more of a man. There is a huge difference obviously, and it could do with their age. Lonnie has a more subtle approach with Will than Jonathan. Will could've eventually been in Jonathan's position if Lonnie had stayed.

From what we are given, between the two siblings, Jonathan was the one that got more shit from Lonnie. It possibly has to do with age and their personalities clashing. Jonathan protected Will from it and made sure Will learnt to not listen to Lonnie at an earlier age than he did.

About the trunk: In my honest opinion, looking back at it, he could have been looking for bags. The more I think about it, it'd just ODD to open a scene with implication he was kidnapped and stuck in the trunk, and not even touch on it and leave it there. Just speaking from a writing perspective. That's a VERY heavy subject to bring in just like that and to treat it like whatever. It's weird to just CASUALLY imply he kidnapped his son like nothing, but the writers want us to actually know Lonnie forces Will to play baseball above anything else. And then just never imply anything else similar to kidnap ever again. It feels off and inconsistent. So I can't fully see the interpretation that Jonathan was looking for Will's body in his trunk. I get why some could come to that conclusion but there's just not enough evidence to support that he would do that.

To me it seems more logical that he believed Will was staying there, especially with the scene between the two. Jonathan sees Will is indifferent to Lonnie. He knows Will's easily manipulated. He plays baseball because that's what Lonnie wants, he'd probably stay at Lonnie's for the same reason.

Will shows no indication of physical abuse unless we're talking about the trauma he has from the UD and possession. Outside of that, he shows more signs he was emotionally abused. This is something we know. We know he's experienced bullying and possibly knows what Lonnie thinks of him, because we know Will can tell when someone think he's different. He's internalized it. The bullying, the UD, and the way people think of him -- it all made him feel like one big mistake.

There are indications of **physical** abuse in other characters in the show and they are quite in your face. From the top of my head, you've got Billy's aggressive behavior, El taking her clothes off in front of the boys, her trauma response from being hid in Mike's closet.

ST and TFS does not hesitate to show us physical abuse on children. They will show us what we need to know. We aren't shown that with Lonnie. The show emphasizes his neglect and need to control/take.

Our first introduction to Lonnie is through Joyce. This is important. They have to tell us exactly what we need to know about Lonnie with little words. And from her description, he sounds like a deadbeat of a homophobic father who is critical over his children. Joyce even says he has nothing to do with it. It doesn't cross her mind that Lonnie could play a role in Will's disappearance because he is an absent father. I think she would have a different mindset if Lonnie was this vicious physical abuser. But no. She sees him as a deadbeat, because that's what he is

When Joyce tells Lonnie to leave after figuring out Lonnie was just there for the money, she goes on a rant on how he was never there. That's what she chooses to bring up. That's what the writers want to emphasize over anything else. His absence. His controlling behavior. His lying and manipulation. This is what makes Lonnie a bad father.

Lonnie is very manipulative, controlling and neglectful. I don't think physically abusive fits in the most. This show in particular will tell you when a father is very physically abusive and bring that to light through several instances (ex: billy's dad). They will show signs a child was physical abused.

Will still struggled in his home. It was a broken home. He wasn't accepted by his father, whether Lonnie made it clear or Will could just tell. His parents fought. Lonnie was never there for him or rarely was. He was abandoned by him. But I do not think Will is fearful of him. I don't think Lonnie is to Will is how Neil is to Billy (Which doesn't make him any less of a bad father! Just different). He's indifferent because Lonnie (from what we can infer) presented himself in a certain/different way to him. Jonathan shows more distaste and anger towards Lonnie because he knows his real intentions.

Now, S5 can obviously introduce something. I bet there is more to Lonnie and the Byers. But this is just how I see it based on everything we're given. Please do not attack me. I am not a fucking Lonnie stan. This is just an analysis.

[adastra-rising]

Adding Onto this, I’m thinking of working on this as an AU/fanfic. I’ve drawn a concept sketch for the kid, (unfortunately, I don’t really like it) her name is Marcee Mayvelle (Aliteration!) and she’s like 9. If she was ever officially adopted, she’d take on the name Mayvelle Tsurugi. (Because I refuse to believe Felix would pass on the Fathom surname. That shit DIES with him.)

Name Notes: I chose the name “Marcee” (pronounced like Marcy) because it’s not something I could see Felix or Kagami choosing for their own child. Most Fankids I see for them have fancy rich-kid British names or Japanese names. I think it’s really important for this AU that Marcee is not the kind of kid they would have through normal means. In terms of name, interests, appearance, etc.

The ✨Found Family✨ of it all feels stronger to me if it’s not someone who’s necessarily just like them. What brought them together was not fate but circumstances!

- A victim of child neglect rather than what Felix or Kagami went through. She was never really forced into behaving a specific way or meeting expectations, because her parents were literally not present.

- They stopped driving her to school and everything. So she is a year or so behind in education.

- She pretty much raised herself. Outwardly, she appears immature and naive, but is definitely aware of a lot more than she lets on.

- Ryuko and Argos busted her parents after Argos picked up on Marcee’s negative emotions after her parents got into a fight. They called CPS but Marcee refused to leave Ryuko’s side, eventually the two of them let her stay over their place in Lieu of foster care. The rest is history.

- She never really got a chance to do much as a kid and IMMEDIATELY latches onto Kagami’s fencing (“While you were having a normal childhood, I WAS STUDYING THE BLADE.”) and becomes obsessed with it.

F: Is it reasonable to give a 9 year old a sword?

K: Yes. I got one when I was 7.

- The entire reason why she got so attached to Ryuko was the cool looking sword. “The cool sword lady will protect me, I am safe.” (Kagami is not used to being admired like this, by anyone other than Felix)

M: I LOVE COOL SWORD LADIES!!!

F: Understandable, I also love cool sword ladies.

- Marcee’s initial impression of Argos is a bit more… mixed, at first she thinks his eyes are a little bit scary but then she realizes that if she gets the scary bird man to like her, nobody will hurt her because the scary bird man will scare the bad people away. (11/10 logic. Her plan is successful!)

- Then she realizes that Felix is kind of a loser and that’s when she really comes to like him. She thinks he’s awkward af but super funny because of it.

- Rather than being known as an adopted daughter, Marcee is technically just Kagami’s fencing protege. (This is also what Kagami tells herself when she starts to get attached: “She’s just my student I won’t get attached. I will not get attached. I won’t.”)

- She’s not good at fencing but she’s got the spirit! After a few years, her efforts do pay off and by the time she’s a teenager she’s pretty much kicking everyone’s ass because Marcee was really persistent and Kagami never gave up on her!

- Marcee is a little bit of an IPAD kid but can you blame her? She had nowhere to go as a kid (sorta like Adrien) and had to make her own fun.

- She has an emotional dependence on Roblox and Minecraft Pocket Edition and knew she had found her family when Felix (in an attempt to show that he cares about her interests, because his father never cared about his) downloads her favorite games and tries to make her a Minecraft House. It was literally just a square made out of dirt.

- (In which a Minecraft house made of dirt is symbolic of letting a lonely abused kid know they are safe and at home!)

- Duusu and Longg realize she’s here to stay way before Kagami or Felix do. They’re both in denial, meanwhile Duusu and Longg are just like “yeah hell nahhh”

- Duusu and Marcee cannot be left alone in a room together or else someone might die. Chaotic ass duo. Longg is usually the one to babysit the two of them.

Feligami Brainrot at 6:30 am (Have not Slept)

Whenever I see art/descriptions of adult/married Feligami, they are either happily childless or have like three kids.

Generally speaking, I think it’s more canon compliant for them to not give a crap about having a nuclear family, and just focus on spending time together.

But I also want to suggest:

✨Found Family Feligami✨

Like to me the only way I could EVER see them starting a family is if they were out on patrol one day as Argos and Ryuko, and just randomly found a lost, scared, ab*sed kid and sorta just claimed them? Probably like an older kid too, at least 6. And they’d never have any other kids it would just be the one.

Like at first they just wanted to get the kid out of their toxic household and neither intended to get attached, but they totally do. Now it’s too late and suddenly they’re parents. Like the kid prolly doesn’t address them as mom or dad but they’re totally family now!

Meanwhile the kid, who’s prolly never felt safe at home, is finally able to sleep peacefully at night because they know if anyone tried to hurt them, both of their new guardians are superheroes! And even without powers, Kagami would prolly still manage to beat the crap outta anyone who came near them! Truly, there is no safer place!

I feel like both Felix and Kagami would struggle to adjust, but they’re both trying really hard! Felix especially is prolly a very…. Awkward parent in the sense that he is just. PROFOUNDLY ANXIOUS. All of the time. Bro wants the kid to be happy but doesn’t exactly have any normal childhood memories to use as reference and tries to connect with the kid using the stuff he grew up with, and quickly realizes the shit he was interested as a kid are not common at all.

“Would you, uhm, like to play a round of chess?”

“No, but I’d love to play monopoly jr: Disney edition!!”

“?????”

Meanwhile Kagami doesn’t register that they’re starting to act like a family, that she truly wants to protect this kid, and tries to convince herself they are merely a roommate or guest until Marinette shows up one day and haphazardly comments that Kagami is such a kind and considerate parent and she’s just like?????

[pandoratheprocrasticreator]

Idky but I feel like Alador never remembers his kids birthdays and when he does, he gives them an invention which is more to give free publicity to his work than anything meaningful or related to their interests

lmao yeah. like even after the show when he's tentatively making up with his family he just. doesn't realize that it's something they care about. or if he does he doesnt realize it's something that HE should care about because his kids care about it. i do think the ppl of the boiling isles wouldn't allow him within 100 ft of an abomination business for a while after the show bc of All That so if he does make an invention for his kids birthdays, it would just be stuff that HE's interested in. amity seems to be his favorite based on extrapolation from the show and she's already interested in abominations so maybe she'll get something she likes by coincidence but tough luck for the twins.

(i had a scrapped fic idea that involved a comical exchange between emira and alador, where emira points out that he still sucks as a father. em asks alador if he knows when her birthday is, and alador gets the date wrong by like two months. em then asks alador when her brother's birthday is, and when alador has to take a minute to think about it, emira reminds him that she and ed are twins before storming out of the room.)

[makotonaegiunderstander]

something I’ve been thinking abt is how many people think Makoto is immune to despair. I don’t think he is. I think becoming the ultimate Hope was BECAUSE he felt despair. He wouldn’t have fully reached that point without Junko. Makoto becoming such a beacon was his last attempt to avoid completely falling and it wasn’t because he didn’t feel despair, it was because he was too damn stubborn to allow everything to go to waste and he refused to sacrifice his beliefs for someone else’s. His inner monologue tells me he DID experience the same new low the other suvivors did in the final trial, but at the point where he had the choice to give up and die, he looked at the others and he looked at Junko and he couldn’t allow it to happen, not out of self preservation, but because the idea that Junko would have control over their lives made him FURIOUS. and that utter refusal to die kicked in, wether luck or otherwise, and he made the concious effort for one last push while something in him was breaking. He had to be broken in order for the Ultimate Hope to come through so aggressively, bc it could only exist in the face of the Ultimate Despair. He snapped the same way she did, but in the other direction. In what could have been his final moments he chose to embody everything Junko wasn’t, and every single optimistic and luck fueled ideal in him suddenly charged forward and pushed him. It was a combination of the final straw and a choice. Makoto isn’t immune to feeling despair, he’s just too stubborn to fall into it of his own volition. I think that’s why I like that scene in DR3 so much. People were SO SHOCKED Makoto actually fell for the tape, that he actually became despair for a moment. I saw people getting mad or disappointed, saying it was pathetic and Makoto seemed to fall from some sort of pedestal for them. Honestly part of me wonders if that sort of mentality, which clearly people had in universe, affected Makoto a bit. Like he started to see himself as less of a person, subconsciously. Prompting him to take more risks, less self preservation, act way more bold. It seems he has to be reminded a lot not to put himself in danger by his friends, to not do something too reckless. All over the place I would see in regards to that scene either this frivolous ‘oh this was just angst drama with no meaning behind it’ or ‘he can do better than that. he’s so weak’ or ‘come on, there’s no way he’d fall into despair, he’s the Ultimate Hope!’ This kind of mentality, which was kind of ironic considering Ryota was there the entire time saying the same thing and treating Makoto the same way. Like Makoto was superhuman. Like Makoto didn’t feel despair the same way ‘normal people’ did. In a way that was also how Munakata saw Makoto. Makoto stopped being a PERSON to the world when he became Ultimate Hope, he became a concept, a belief system, much the same way Junko ascended beyond herself. But the difference is that treating Makoto that way is the opposite of the reason Makoto became such a representative for hope. He wasn’t doing something no one else could. He was doing something everyone had the chance to, he just… was a little more optimistic, a little more stubborn, a little more ‘gung-ho’ about things. He just took the lead where no one else did, where no one else knew they even COULD in the face of Junko’s unstoppable force. She had overcome the biggest threats and obstacles in the world, what could one person do? And the answer Makoto found was, anything. Everything. It doesn’t all rest on Makoto, he’s just the one that was inspired to try to do what seemed like the impossible. But as evidenced by the change in his friends after that trial, it’s clearly not something only Makoto is capable of. The others pulled out of despair thanks to Makoto, but it was their choice to do so.

“But… this world is so huge, and we’re so small. What can we do…? No, we can probably do anything. Yeah! We can do anything!”

[merv606]

I never felt this got the answer it deserved and always intended to come back to it.

I was reminded of it recently when someone liked it.

I changed some things - Robby is a baby and I pictured them more circa after KK3 era - with Daniel being maybe 25ish, give or take.

“Sweetheart, I have something important to ask you.”

Daniel doesn’t make a fuss and Terry knew, without even really needing to ask, that Daniel would look after the boy, until they figured out what to do.

Although Terry already knows what will be done.

Still, he asked.

“Can you look after Robby for a few days?!”

“What happened?” Instant worry on Daniel’s face, which is something Terry hates to see, something he is loathe to be the actual cause of, but in this case, it is a necessary evil. The ends will justify the means.

“Terry?” He asks, when his husband doesn’t answer. It’s not the first time he’s stepped in for such a thing, in Robby’s young life, but normally it’s been a night here and there, and Terry said days.

“The boy’s father met an unfortunate accident,” an accident that Terry may be responsible for but, he can live with that, easily. Especially when he knows he is giving Daniel something he wants. He can live with it so long as Daniel never finds out how their eventual son came to them anyway.

“Is he okay?”

“It’s not good, sweetheart. I have my lawyers trying to contact any possible family.”

Terry had put up with Mr. Lawrence’s poor behaviour at work, his clear drinking problem, but it was only his visibly pregnant wife that had Terry keeping him around in the first place.

He saw the way Daniel lit up around kids. How they would swarm him at the company’s Christmas party and how much Daniel loved it. How he looked forward to any company outing with families.

He saw the overjoyed look at his boy’s face as he was handed the Lawrence baby at a recent company event, the small frown when he realized it was so Johnny could go have a drink.

They had actually taken the boy home for the first time that night. Johnny had passed out drunk, his already well known problem exasperated by his wife’s unfortunate passing in giving Robby life.

Any qualms Terry may have had about setting the plan in motion were doused after that.

Especially when he saw his boy with the baby in his arms later that night, singing him to sleep, the joy and love on his face before laying him gently into the bassinet they had Margaret run out to pick up. The near reverence Daniel had on his face as Terry came to stand next to him, watching the sleeping child himself for a few minutes before ushering Daniel to bed.

Now it would just be permanent.

Besides, neglect like that would only turn to something else.

They could give the child a much better life.

A week passes, and Terry breaks the news that they cannot locate anyone next of kin.

“They both had no siblings, and her parents want nothing to do with the child,” he explained, not after the money Terry paid them off with anyway, “and Johnny’s stepfather really has no claim,” or want for the child of the stepson he never wanted in the first place.

“What happens to Robby then?” Daniel bites his lip, a common nervous tick of his, but Terry knows the wheels are already turning.

Before Terry can answer, a shrill wail, and a red faced Robby is brought in by the nanny.

While he wanted his boy to have a baby, wanted to tie Daniel to him in that way, he also made sure his boy’s attention can be his when needed.

Daniel takes him, Robby instantly calming.

“I wonder if he senses,” Daniel starts, looking to the older man.

Terry places a hand on his shoulder.

“I think he senses your distress more than anything. Go see if you can’t get him back down,” he leans down to place a quick kiss on those full pink lips.

Terry watches them leave before turning on his heel to find Margaret.

That night Daniel comes in tired, but oh so beautiful.

“He’s fussy, but I think I got him down,” he yawns.

Shrugging off his shirt and jeans, he grabs an old one of Terry’s, putting it on before quickly collapsing face down, Terry rubbing his back soothingly, although he is focused on the papers in front of him, signing his name when required.

After a few moments, Daniel climbs in bed proper, leaning against Terry’s side, his eyes getting heavier and heavier, his weight getting heavier and heavier against the older man.

Terry is expecting to have to put him to bed once he finishes his task, but suddenly a hand reaches out, staying Terry’s.

“Do…. What do you think about maybe adopting Robby?” he asks.

“You want that?” Terry responds, pretending like he doesn’t already know, like he didn’t plan this knowing this would be the exact outcome.

“I do,” he answers, hesitantly adding, “but do you?”

Daniel made peace that having Terry, this life, probably meant no children and while sad he knew he wanted Terry more. He couldn’t live without the older man.

But now, there may be a way for him to have both - to have it all.

He didn’t though, actually know the older man’s stance on them. He never bothered to ask, seeing as how he didn’t think it was an option.

“When have I denied you anything you wanted, sweetheart?”

“Terry, I’m being serious.”

“As am I.”

Terry lays the papers to the side, easily manhandling Daniel into his lap, easy enough in any circumstance for Terry to do but more so when Daniel clearly isn’t resisting.

“You were born to be a father,” Terry says, and it will be Daniel doing the rearing anyway, “and you need something to do.”

He has the bonsai shop, but works there sparingly, when permitted, and that alone was a hard won argument and still a bone of contention wth Terry.

His boy doesn’t need to work. Terry doesn’t see why he is wants to. He prefers knowing where he is, he prefers Daniel home.

“I have one condition.”

Daniel is curious. Wondering what it could be, Terry taking his hands in his.

“You are to stay at home with him.”

That was exactly what he wanted. The thought of leaving Robby when he didn’t want to, especially when have to just wasn’t sitting right with him. He wanted to be there for him, not miss one moment, but he was actually a bit nervous to tell Terry he wanted to stay home.

“You can have all the help you need but I would prefer one of his parents being here for him.”

Terry was raised by nannie’s himself, and while he would have no issues or qualms with them raising Robby, the thought of Daniel home in such a manner well, it’s part of why he did this in the first place.

“You know I will,” Daniel agrees, not even needing to think.

Terry tries to hide his smirk.

“It was actually what I wanted,” he says like it’s some kind of shameful secret. “I just didn’t know how to tell you. I was worried ….”

“Why,” Terry laughs, interrupting him, but he can’t help it. After all, Terry’s made no secret of his desire for his husband to be home.

Daniel groans now. He knew the older man wouldn’t object; would probably be elated.

“I just … I put up such a fuss about working ….”

“I know you did,” he chuckles, kissing Daniel’s nose.

Daniel wrinkles his nose, pouting slightly.

“It’s settled then.”

“Just like that,” Daniel asks, although it’s playful. He knows Terry will make it happen, whatever is needed.

When the older man wants something he never takes long in making it a reality, and when it comes to Daniel’s happiness, Terry is even quicker.

“Just like that.”

Daniel can’t help the smile that spreads across his face.

“You know that what my boy wants he gets.”

“We’re parents,” he finally allows himself to say, like he can’t believe it, leaning forward, his forehead gently touching Terry’s.

“We are,” Terry answers back, “and maybe they’ll be more to keep you busy.”

“A little girl would be perfect,” Daniel whispers, kissing his husband.

Gentle at first, but then large hands grip his boy’s ass, and Daniel whimpers, breaking the kiss on a breathy moan, feeling how hard Terry is for him already, and well, he quickly finds himself under his husband, Terry’s too large shirt ruched up, his boxer briefs long gone.

“Fuck me,” he breathes out, although Terry is already reaching for the lube.

“That what you want, baby?! My cock?!!”

“Yes,” he whimpers, slippery fingers already at his entrance as he cants his hips to give his husband easier access to what they both want.

“Gave you a child tonight and you still want more.”

“You’ll give me both.”

Daniel spreads his legs, and oh that sight will never not do things to Terry. Terrible, wonderful things for which he is willing to do both terrible and wonderful things.

Their son in the next room proof of that, as is the breathtaking beauty under him now, crying out gorgeously as Terry gives him what he asked for.

Always.

Thought of a au of married silverusso adopting Robby in sesson 1 because that boy needed a home and those two would be great parents to him and terry calling out Johnny for his bullshit parenting like he did in s5 full on think terry would have called out Johnny from the start and that why I love him so much I really need more of that in s6 I can’t just brush past the 17 years of abandoning johnny did to Robby I really can’t all because him and Miguel are step brother now and the new baby coming along that doesn’t make it any better

You know that is an absolutely adorable idea.

Terry and Daniel - an au where they’re a healthy couple - adopting Robby.

[izzy-b-hands]

Putting on last year's trans rigs stream from Drawfee before i have to get ready to go out with my mum and her bf today (bc i have the worst feeling in my gut he's gonna make that An Thing for me if given the chance today, aka whenever i eventually need the restroom while we're at Mystic)

[upwardsonwards]

aaaaaa?

[autumnrory]

godddd i will just never get the appeal of bucky/sam to me it is the equivalent of putting like. jim and dwight in a romantic relationship which I’m sure a lot of people do but STILL at least there’s more substance there

[keets-writing-corner]

Thinking a LOT about Lucifer in the latest Hazbin episode. Idk what I was expecting but not this??

As I was watching my immediate thought was just "huh... Lucifer is kinda of weird..." but as the episode went on I realized the issue

the dude is off the chain depressed, like he says it as a joke but holy cow it is SO BAD

He's manically just creating rubber ducks cuz his daughter really like it that one time but it's empty, it's never good enough but he keeps doing it, maybe cuz he doesn't know how to pass the time otherwise.

like I get the feeling he HAS better things he SHOULD be doing than making rubber duck after rubber duck. At first I was like, "Bruh why isn't the king of hell doing anything?" aaaaand then it became clear...

The dude is disassociating so bad he can barely hold a conversation let alone remember information. He clearly WANTS to, he wants to be involved with his daughter so bad, he wants to care about the things she's doing so bad, but his depression keeps interfering. It's like he can only hear every other word and he grasps onto the ones he does hear semi-out of context. Like you can see every time he catches something that he hadn't before and he just "well shit I didn't catch that part"

and that's why he reacts so weird when people talk to him. He is struggling so bad to engage with the conversation he's only getting 50% of it

does that look like the face of a man who knows what the hell the conversation is even about??? he is STRUGGLING

like Charlie spent so long telling him about the hotel, and he STILL didn't understand what she wanted. Yeah it comes off as ditzy but literally I've been in that position where your brain just "nope, not doing this right now" and nerfs your conversation comprehension. So as someone who's BEEN in that position, to me it feels exactly like what he's dealing with. He's sorta engaged with the conversation, but only as much as his brain will allow

For example, when I'm dealing with this, this is what someone talking to me feels like this where the crossed out parts are what I missed and bold is what I catch, "Hey! You know I was thinking for dinner we could either make some chicken with rice? But if you don't feel like cooking, pasta is super easy and you love that right? What do you want to do?" you can kinda get that someone is trying to talk to you about dinner, and towards the end you get the impression that they asked something that needs your input so you can decently put 2 and 2 together and try and pass off, but crucial bits were left out, I would have no idea that either chicken or pasta is in the conversation only having heard "rice". When someone is just talking at me, I can decently pass off as being engaged but the second I'm required to participate in the conversation I'm screwed. Seem familiar? At which point I have 2 options, try to give a bullshit answer, or admit that I missed what they were saying and ask them to repeat

Lucifer, unfortunately, is trying so damn hard to hide that he's dealing with like 24/7 dissociation, so he can't admit that he's missing entire chunks of the conversation, hence his really weird replies. He does eventually get the full picture and then he and Charlie start having the real conversation

Also, the Alastor/Lucifer rivalry was hilarious but also really indicative of more of what Lucifer is dealing with

Alastor is, unfortunately, really good at picking up people's insecurities, and thanks to Charlie's description earlier and watching Lucifer clearly trying to overcompensate, he immediately picks up on the fact that Lucifer KNOWS he struggles to be a good dad (we know cuz it's cuz of the depression, hard to be engaged when your brain keeps turning off) and decides to rub salt in the wound by pretending he's been acting as a surrogate father to Charlie. Now why Alastor decided to pick a fight with the king of hell is beyond me, I do not understand Alastor (and I LIKE IT) (maybe it's cuz Alastor thinks he's hot shit and was expecting Lucifer to at least have heard of him but Lucifer just treats him like a nobody? who knows)(why would Lucifer listen to radio anyways when he can't even pay attention to a conversation it'd just be white noise)

But yeah I just was expecting someone who oozed either charisma or presence and instead I got a depressed dad who's dissociating so bad he can barely function and be present in his life. The only thing it seems he CAN do is make rubber ducks cuz his daughter really liked it that one time

Idk Lucifer is tragic to me. Whatever the full details of what heavan did to him absolutely broke him and he can't deal with it. He's aware of it, and he doesn't know how to fix it, so he tries to over compensate and sorta makes an ass out of himself but no one says or does anything cuz this guy is supposed to be THE king of hell

Suddenly it's making a lot more sense why he just rolls over and lets heaven do what it wants and even told Charlie to go in his place the start of the show. He's not in any headspace to hold a basic conversation let alone negotiate! He didn't even know who Alastor was, he's been so out of touch

idk I like him, he seems sweet, I hope Charlie brings some light back into his life. He really needs to get out of that rubber duck room