#i’m tired of making excuses for how he’s treated me my entire life

[hugepenishaver]

fuck my dad

[ikishima]

.

[hazbinwhoree]

Hiya ! Let me tell you first that I love your writings about Adam ! Our angel deserves some attention

I couldn't help but notice that there is a lack of hurt/comfort Adam fics 😠

Sooo I've been thinking (read this with Charlie's voice from the pilot) what about an Adam x reader arranged marriage fic ?

Like Adam is given a new wife from Heaven, he treats her really badly at the beginning but then kinda develops a soft spot for her ? Ending with the fluffiest softest smut you can make ?

Do we have a deal ? 😈

I Wanna Be Yours

Adam supposed he should be grateful, he wasn’t alone anymore, but Lilith and Eve had fucked him up so badly that he wanted nothing to do with his third wife. If he got too close, he’d fall in love, and then she’d leave him. So Adam did the opposite of getting close. He got mean.

(Name) was born yesterday. Created by God to be Adam’s third companion. She was born with pertinent information already in her brain, memories, and free will. Free will, and she still wanted nothing more than to be Adam’s wife.

He was so lonely, but he’d never admit it.

At first, Adam was just cold to her. But when that didn’t deter (Name) from trying to get close to him, he grew mean.

“I don’t want you, bitch!”

“Leave me the fuck alone!”

“Piss off, I hate looking at you.”

It started wearing (Name) down. It hurt, he hurt her, constantly. She was growing to dislike him. She wished she could hate him, but she just couldn’t. It didn’t help that they lived together, though Adam had banished her to the guest room, not willing to share his king size bed.

One day, (Name) gave up. She decided she was done being verbally abused as she followed Adam around like a lovesick puppy. So that day, she didn’t follow Adam. She didn’t leave her house. In fact, she didn’t even leave her bed.

To Adam’s dismay, he was disappointed and slightly concerned when (Name) didn’t show up that day. She always followed him around. All day, every day. Adam hadn’t realized how comfortable he got with it.

When he came home that day, he peaked into her bedroom, finding her asleep. His brow furrowed, wondering why she hadn’t followed him today. Adam was going to ask, but (Name) didn’t wake up until morning.

By day four, after three days of cold silence from (Name), and her still not following him, Adam decided to go home early. He got home around noon to catch (Name) off guard, he was never home around noon.

He snuck into the house but didn’t see her anywhere downstairs. He climbed upstairs and peered into (Name)’s bedroom. Once again, that’s where he found her, still in bed.

“Okay, what the fuck,” he asked loudly, barging into her room.

(Name) jumped. When she registered Adam, she scowled. “Don’t scowl at me, bitch,” Adam spat. Something died in (Name)’s eyes and she just looked tired and sad. Adam softened.

“...Sorry.”

That got (Name)’s attention. Adam had never, ever said sorry to her before.

Adam came over and sat on the edge of the bed. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “What’s wrong? What’s wrong?” (Name) was appalled. “I’ll fucking tell you what’s wrong.” She sat up.

“I was created for the sole purpose of being your wife so that you would no longer be alone. That is my entire purpose, my whole identity. And you hate me. You’re literally all I have in life and you want nothing to do with me. You weren’t even just cold, you were mean. Nasty. I wish I hated you. But I still love you, and that fucking hurts.”

Adam was quiet for once in his life. He had never really thought about the consequences of his actions. He hadn’t seen (Name) so much as person as he did an annoyance that followed him around. Now here she was, a person. A being with thoughts and feelings. A being he’d been abusing.

He reached a gentle hand towards her and she recoiled. Adam winced. “I’m sorry,” he admitted. “I really am. I thought… if I got too close, you would leave me like Lilith and Eve did.” (Name) blinked at him. “I know that’s a shitty excuse,” Adam mumbled. “I wish I could tell you how sorry I am. I was a fucking coward, in trying to prevent myself from being lonely I made you lonely.” “You did more than that,” (Name) scoffed.

Adam looked ashamed. “Yeah… I’m so sorry. I want to start over. If… if you want that. I understand if you’re done with me, I definitely deserve it.”

(Name) contemplated for a moment. “We can start over,” (Name) said eventually. “But we start slow. I don’t like or trust you right now.”

Adam nodded eagerly. “That’s fair. (Name)?”

“Yeah?”

“Just start coming with me when I go about my day again.”

(Name) did, and over the next two weeks she would accompany Adam everywhere, not follow, because he kept his stride slow so that she could keep up. He talked to her, asked questions about her, got to know her. She quickly became a soft spot for him. It took a lot to not sabotage it out of fear, but Adam managed.

Two months in, and they’d kindled a relationship so well that they had sexual tension. They had yet to act on it, neither realizing that the other wanted it as much as them.

But this was the longest Adam had gone without sex in a long time, and with his high sex drive, it was incredibly difficult. It wasn’t much longer before he couldn’t contain himself anymore. He burst into her room randomly and announced, “I think I love you and I want to fuck you.”

(Name) put down her phone, wearing nothing but short shorts and a tank top, ready for bed. “I think I love you too, and I would very much like you to fuck me,” (Name) replied after a beat of silence.

Adam wasted no time, coming up to her bedside and picking her up bridal-style. “Adam, what–” “You’ve had your own room long enough. It’s time we share a bed. And what better way to consecrate it?” He smirked.

(Name) smiled, holding onto his neck. When they entered Adam’s room, he gently laid her down on his bed. He was going to take his time with this, he’d waited for so long he was going to savor every second.

He shed his mask, and (Name) gasped. She’d never seen him without his mask before. Adam looked slightly unsure of himself. “Kiss me,” (Name) breathed. Adam stood between her legs and bent over the bed to press his lips to hers sweetly. She ran her fingers through his hair.

“You’re so pretty,” she whispered when he pulled back. Adam wanted to make a cocky comment, but decided against it for the sake of the moment. He pulled his shirt off, then undid his belt, kicking off his pants. Then he gently pulled (Name)’s tank top over her head, thrilled to finally see her bare rack.

But before he went for her chest, he pulled her shorts down and off. When they were both in their underwear, Adam picked (Name) up and threw her further on the bed. Then he climbed onto the bed and on top of her.

He connected their lips while his hands groped her chest. His tongue invaded her mouth and (Name) moaned. Adam kissed down her neck, her chest, until her reached her left tit, and latched on with his mouth. (Name) gasped as he sucked on her nipple, his hand reaching to roll her other nipple between his forefinger and thumb. (Name)’s fingers tangled in Adam’s hair.

He pulled off with a wet pop and moved to the other breast, taking it into his mouth as well. (Name) hummed sounds of affirmation as Adam gave her chest attention, sighing when he pulled back. Adam’s hand slid down her stomach and inbetween her legs and (Name) bit her lip. When Adam’s hand slipped under her panties and his fingers brushed against (Name)’s wet folds, she moaned. “You’re so wet,” Adam said lowly in her ear. “All for me.”

He entered two fingers inside of her, curling them. (Name)’s back arched a little bit. Adam added a third rather quickly, realizing briefly that her body had been made to fit with his perfectly. The thought almost made Adam sentimental.

Because of this fact he didn’t spend long fingering her. He was impatient, and he didn’t have to. She was already ready for him. He pulled her panties down and off before kneeling back to tug his boxers down. He shed those too and pressed their naked bodies together.

“I love you,” he said quietly, kissing her lips. “I’ll forever be sorry for how I was before. Let me make it up to you~”

(Name) whimpered when she felt his dick pressing at her entrance. Adam grabbed both of her hands in his, pinning them next to her head and intertwining their fingers. “Are you ready?” he asked, not sure how much longer he could wait.

(Name) nodded vigorously. Adam gently pushed his hips forward, slowly sinking into her heat. He groaned, his self-restraint waning. He bottomed out with a heavy sigh. “I love you,” he repeated. “Fuck. You're so tight.”

(Name) couldn’t reply, adjusting to Adam’s size. Once she did, she moved her hips a little bit. “Move,” she begged. Adam didn’t need to be asked twice. He slowly began to roll his hips, thrusting in and out slowly and sensually. It felt good, but it wasn’t enough, so it didn’t last long.

Adam’s hips picked up in pace and intensity. (Name) moaned everytime he drove into her. It was Adam’s new favorite sound. They were in missionary, Adam’s favorite position because he could stare at (Name) while they made love. He could drink in every little expression of pleasure on her pretty face.

(Name) squeezed the life out of Adam’s hands. Adam leaned down to suck love marks onto (Name)’s neck. (Name) threw her head back, giving him easier access while he marked her as his.

When he pulled back, he let go of one of (Name)’s hands, sneaking his now free hand down between them to rub circles around her clit with a slender finger. He relished in the look of pleasure (Name) made, jaw dropping and eyes rolling back. His hips didn’t lose their steady pace until (Name) moaned, “Faster!”

Adam began slamming into her, and with (Name)’s free hand, she clawed at his back. Every thrust hit deep and Adam timed pressure on her clit with every thrust. “Adam,” (Name) gasped. “I’m– nngh~ I’m close.”

“Fuck, me too,” Adam panted. He kept his pace steady, both of their orgasms steadily growing. (Name)’s moans became higher pitched. Adam’s groans grew more frequent.

Eventually, they were on the precipice together, calling out one another’s names as they climaxed. Adam came buried deep inside of her, and (Name) came on his dick. They froze for a moment afterwards, each trying to catch their breath. As they panted, coming down, Adam dropped his forehead against (Name)’s, staring deeply into her eyes. Watching her orgasm had made his euphoric. He kissed her softly, in contrast to the pace they’d just been going at.

“I love you,” (Name) said quietly.

Adam pulled out, collapsing on the bed next to her. “I love you too, (Name).”

[myownwholewildworld]

wherever you go (a joel miller's ff) - chapter 2

chapter 1 | series masterlist | main asterlist | chapter 3

pairing: outbreak!2003!joel x f!reader.

summary: it’s been nine months since your first encounter with the miller brothers and you're getting slightly annoyed with joel's attitude towards you.

warnings: mdni. mention of suicide. a bit of smut (kissing, rubbing). swear words. both joel and reader get a tad angry. pet names (darling). reader is female, no other description given. reader is mid-late 20s, joel is 36. no use of y/n.

a/n: i might have said this was a one-shot ― well, i lied heh. i have come up with an entire storyline in my head so need to put it into words. this is going to be a bumpy ride because i love drama. reader's pov and joel's pov. this is not proofread and english is not my mother tongue, so please excuse any mistakes you might spot. if you would like to be tagged on the next chapters, please let me know. interactions welcome. enjoy!

w/c: ~1.9k.

The rhythm those two had was relentless. You were barely able to keep up, your legs trembling as if you were a newborn foal. Your knees almost gave way, your lungs burning with exhaustion. You managed to grab onto a low hanging branch of a nearby tree to stop yourself from falling.

“Hey― Wait up!”, you shouted at your companions.

One of the men stopped in his tracks, Tommy turning around to look at you. Joel didn’t even bother to come to a halt ― He just kept on walking as if he didn’t hear you.

Sometimes you wondered if he had lost some hearing from his right ear because of the gunshot, or if he just had a really good knack at ignoring you. Every time you talked to him, you felt like you were a nuisance to him. You had spent nine months with the Miller brothers, and you were no closer to knowing Joel than you were to speaking Klingon. You had no issues with Tommy at all, he made the effort to make you feel comfortable. The same thing could not be said of Joel.

At first you thought it was because of how you two met. You had stopped him when he was at his lowest point. You had learned from Tommy that Joel had buried his daughter that day. You understood that feeling so damn well, you almost regretted interrupting him. But you could not just stand and watch as someone decided to take their own lives. You knew how that would have affected Tommy, because you had been on the receiving end of those bad news. It was, probably, selfish of you to have taken away that decision from Joel, but the consequences would have been far more devastating.

But as time went on, you were not so sure anymore why Joel tried his hardest to avoid you. You couldn’t recall a time where you treated him badly ― quite the opposite. You were kind, even understanding when he was rude to you unnecessarily. You looked out for him ―and his brother, of course― in many ways. You were younger, but not defenseless, and had proven yourself useful many a times. So why did he behave like a prick most of the time?

“Joel, hold on”, Tommy said to his brother, tapping on his shoulder, before approaching you.

You had rested your back against the tree you had held on for dear life, trying to catch your breath. Tommy got to your side and offered you his water bottle. You took a sip, avoiding making eye contact with Joel ― not that he was looking in your direction, anyway.

“You alright there?”, Tommy asked.

“Yes, well, no”, you chuckled. “I’m pretty tired, we have been walking for the past six hours non-stop. I need a break, otherwise someone is gonna have to carry me”, you joked.

You caught Joel swiftly turning around to pierce you with those brown eyes. He quickly retreated and looked around, as if he was paying attention to his surroundings in case you were not alone. You frowned, thinking you had imagined it.

“It’s getting pretty late, we probably should set camp somewhere around here. I’ll go and have a look around, make sure it’s safe”, you saw the hesitation in Tommy’s eyes, knowing exactly what he was thinking. He didn’t like leaving Joel alone, neither did you, in all honesty. “Keep an eye on him, please”, Tommy whispered.

You nodded and saw him disappear. You sighed, preparing yourself to be rejected once more. Sometimes you wondered if you were a masochist.

Joel was on guard as soon as he saw you approach him. He looked around, even though he knew there was nowhere to go. He didn’t like you because of how you made him feel. Because you made him feel. You were too nice, always willing to help no matter what, quick with a joke to make people laugh even in the darkest of times. He admired your strength, your wits, your outspokenness, your light-heartedness. You were a beam of light in the midst of darkness ― sometimes he felt like a fly getting too close to the sun.

But he knew better than that. He was not built for any type of personal relationship. He had tried ― and failed. The only connection he had left was Tommy and he was not too sure about that one either. Since his unfruitful attempt at putting an end to his life, Tommy had been walking on eggshells around him. He didn’t need that ― being treated like a damn old book everyone was too afraid to handle.

“Do you have some water?”, you asked him.

Joel almost jumped on the spot ― you had approached him from his right-hand side, which meant he didn’t hear you getting close. So close he had to back up one step. He noticed your bottom lip twitching and understood that you had interpreted his step back as a rejection. He felt compelled to change your mind but didn’t in the end. It was better this way.

“Yeah”, Joel replied as he reached towards his back and grabbed his water bottle from the side of the backpack, offering it. “You have finished yours already?”, he didn’t intend for it to sound accusatory, but it did.

You rolled your eyes, slightly annoyed, and grabbed the bottle to drink some more. “Yes, it’s very hot today, sorry for being human”, you said, giving it back.

“I didn’t mean it that way”, he offered as an excuse, shrugging his shoulders. “I hear a river nearby, I’ll go refill yours and mine”, he extended his hand towards you.

You snatched your water bottle from your backpack and gave it to him. Then you saw him starting to walk away.

“Wait! Where are you going?”, you almost stumbled with your own feet as you followed him.

“As I said, I’m gonna refill the bottles”, he looked at you as if you were daft.

“But we can’t leave, Tommy might come back and not find us―”.

“I’m going, you are staying right here”, he said matter-of-factly.

“No, I’m coming with you”.

“What are you now? My fucking babysitter?”, he snapped at you, his whole demeanour quickly changing, his jaw clenched.

“No, you prick ― I’m tired, I don’t want to be left alone, waiting around, if something happens”, you rapidly came up with a lie. You did feel bad though, because he had seen right through you and Tommy.

“Mhmm”, he muttered. “Ah’ite”.

You walked a couple of feet behind him while he guided you both towards the sound of running water. It really only was like twenty yards away, so Tommy would have no trouble finding you. When you both reached the riverbank, Joel kneeled to dunk a different bottle he kept in his backpack.

“Why are you always so freaking mean to me? Have I done something wrong? Is it because I pushed the gun away from you?”, you babbled before you could stop yourself, bracing yourself as if you were cold, but the reality was you suddenly felt too exposed.

The silence dragged on, and you couldn’t stand it.

“Look, if that’s it, I’m sorry, but…”.

“No, it’s not that”, Joel interrupted you, still not making eye contact. He retrieved the bottle and attached a filter to it. He then put it upside down on top of your bottle and squeezed, so clean water started to fill the container. “It’s just… Nevermind”.

“It’s just what? Don’t you think I deserve an explanation of why you have treated me like shit for the past nine months?”, you pushed, starting to feel your hot-headedness overcome you. A side of you Joel had not come across yet.

He looked up at you, his brows almost touching each other, as he towered above you.

“Hold your horses right there, kid”, he said as he passed you the water bottle with a bit more force than necessary.

“Kid? How old do you think I am, Joel?”, you almost laughed.

“I don’t know, twenty? It doesn’t really matter, I―”.

“Try adding a few years to that, you dickhead”, you crossed your arms at your chest.

He looked slightly confused. Joel did think you were younger than you actually were. Not that it mattered anyway ― in fact, it didn’t change a thing.

“Look, it’s nothing to do with you. And mind your tongue”, he kneeled again to repeat the filtering process.

“So what is it then?”, you insisted while you secured the water bottle to your backpack.

Silence again. Sometimes you would love to punch some words out of him.

“Just leave it be”, he mumbled as he stood up once done with his own bottle.

You cut the distance between you and Joel to bury your index finger in the middle of his chest. Your eyes squinted in anger.

“No, I want an answer. You’re always so damn evasive, it’s driving me crazy”, you demanded.

The atmosphere suddenly shifted as you looked into his eyes. Joel was staring at you angrily ― no, hungrily? Something in the way he was holding himself back sent an exciting shudder down your spine.

“No, darlin’, you are driving me crazy”.

Everything happened too quickly ― Joel’s hand held your chin up as he lowered his mouth. Your lips were slightly parted, already inviting him in. He found no resistance from you as he licked your bottom lip before going in with the full force of his desire. You buried one hand in the hair of his neck, clenching your fingers and pulling softly.

Joel thought he was going to die right there and then. He could not think straight, not when you were so melting in his arms. His senses went haywire the moment he got hit with your scent. Lavander and cinnamon, he thought. He gripped your hip with his free hand, pushing you into him. The kiss turned wetter and hotter, his mind spiralling out of control. You tasted sweet, exactly what he had imagined.

He probably shouldn’t be doing this but couldn’t refrain himself. You had pushed his buttons and now he was too far gone. He had desired you for a while but didn’t want to complicate the situation. The world was going to shit, so there was no point in looking for a bit of hope in the middle of such madness.

He groaned into your mouth when you placed your free hand on the buckle of his belt, holding onto it as if your life depended on it. You pulled from the buckle, his bulge pressing against you. You smiled, satisfied you were not the only one severely affected by the kiss. You could feel the heat rising up in your body.

And as quickly as it started, it ended.

“Guys! Where are you?”, Tommy’s words were carried by the wind.

Joel broke off the embrace so fast you almost fell but was able to steady yourself in time.

“Joel, I―”.

“Not a word”, he cut you off, his voice deep, his eyes drilling into yours with intensity. There was a dark warning tone in his voice that you couldn't ignore. “Over here, Tommy, we’re filling up the bottles”.

A few seconds later, the younger Miller appeared in sight.

“Ah, there you guys are. I found a cave where we could spend the night”. He looked at his brother for a moment, brows wrinkling. “You okay, Joel?”.

“Mhmm, all good. Give me your bottle”.

[cannibalizedlove]

Something in common

Information and warnings — male reader, mild smut, fluff, talks about sexuality, a bit of internalized homophobia, talks about masturbation. Also this is my first time writing a fanfic, so go easy on me…

Elio was insecure, which was shockingly drastic from his charisma he exuded with girls at his town parties. He wasn’t insecure about his body, or looks, he was well aware he was gorgeous, he was insecure about his sexuality.

He was embarrassed about the fact that he could never get a proper hard on when Marzia touched him, and he hated how when he was pleasuring himself he would always start out thinking about girls, but always end up finishing to the thought of being sexual with a man.

Elio knew his parents would be accepting, and how he wouldn’t be treated any differently by them. The insecurity lied within himself, no one around him was gay, and if they were it was a subject never spoken about to the point he had no idea. He hated himself for being different, he felt like he was all alone. So when you arrived, everything changed for him.

You and your dad had arrived from America, your father was going on to publish a novel, and when he had heard the renowned academic and his family were renting out their house in Italy; he jumped at the possibility for three months with Mr. Pearlman. It was much more appealing than spending the height of the summer in New York, especially when you were going to be living there for free, eating amazing Italian meals and having maids clean up for you.

You weren’t too excited to up and leave your house for the entire summer and bunk with random people, but anything would be better than your life back home. As your father had driven up to the beautiful villa you would reside in, the two of you exited the car and were greeted by Mr. and Mrs. Pearlman, wrapping you into a tight hug.

“Ah, you too have a boy. Ours is upstairs, he should be heading down.” Mr. Pearlman spoke, and a shot of anxiety struck through you. You didn’t get along with teenage boys back home, you were bullied for your lack of popularity, your interests, but most of all your sexuality.

You hadn’t had known when everyone officially found out you were gay, but no one back in America let you live it down. You were constantly razzed for it, and in result became pretty isolated. Some guys had flirted with you, but had always pretended they never met you because they were terrified of everyone knowing. You hated it, you felt like you had no one to relate to.

Your mind soon left the thoughts of your sexuality and instead became clouded with nothing but the sight of the gorgeous boy in-front of you. He was tall, with gorgeous green eyes that called attention to them, messy half-wetted curls framed his freckled cheeks. You must of been overtly obvious with your stare, because you were snapped back into reality with him clearing his throat obnoxiously and making a gesture to his held out hand, awaiting for you to greet him with a handshake.

“Y/N, Elio. Elio, Y/N.” His father introduced the two of you, laughing a bit at your beats of silence. “Hello,” you said sheepishly, pushing your hands in your pockets and avoiding eye contact. “Hi.” Elio said flatly, unmoved by your presence. You believed he was making fun of you, you imagined him telling his friends how he has to be roommates with some gay guy for the rest of summer. A frown plastered onto your mouth, and you hung your head down for the rest of the day.

Later in the afternoon, Elio was beckoned to show you to your room, and he followed in suit. He carried your suitcase and you your backpack, “my room is yours now. I’m next door.” He said in a noncommittal tone, his coldness towards you was palpable.

Once you were situated in your room for the night, you were so tired you slept through dinner, asking Elio to make an excuse for your absence.

Now you were sat at breakfast, and Elio was ready to show you around the city. He had walked you to the two bikes on the wall, and assured you just to follow him. He showed you around shops and cafés, and talked about what he liked to do during the summer. “I transcribe music, read, swim, go out.” You imagined him showing you a song he enjoyed, taking you swimming, going out to parties with you. You knew this wouldn’t happen, Elio was a straight guy way who was also; out of your league. No guy had ever been into you, and you knew it would stay that way in Crema as well.

“Do you wanna go to this spot? I love it.” Elio said, breaking you out of your overthinking. “Yeah! That’d be really nice..” You said with a nervous smile, and the two of you began biking to a little grassy field. “This is it!” Elio announced, slamming his bike down and walking down the hill, taking his shoes and socks off to walk into the river. “My own spot, all to myself.” You followed his routine, stepping into the river with an overwhelming sense of joy. Elio liked enough about you to show you his private spot, maybe he wasn’t making fun of you.

Elio splashed the river water at your, cheekily grinning and awaiting your attack. You giggled like a child and splashed him back, running at him and jumping on him. The two of you played in the river like kids, laughing and soaking each other in the process. Soon, you two lay on the field, you tell him about America, and he tells you about his life in Crema. As you two are washed into a comfortable silence, you look over. His eyes are closed, he’s bathing in the warmth of the sun.

“Elio, do you like.. guys.” You said, sitting up and hugging your knees, your eyes bore into your legs not daring to look at him after that question. “I do.. I hope that’s not offensive to you.” Elio muttered, sitting up himself and staring at the glistening water of the river. “You do?” You jumped, whipping your head to the male. “I didn’t.. guess you would too.” You said shyly, looking him up and down profusely like a madman trying to gage his reactions.

“Too?” Elio looked at you, his cheeks heating up dangerously fast. A beat of silence follows.. and another. Until he grabbed your chin, running a thumb on your bottom lip, you locked eyes with him and closed the space between you two. A soft, yet deep kiss was exchanged. You gently put a hand on his soft curls, pulling him in more. Elio began to push himself up slightly, and began to gently climb on top of you, only breaking the kiss for air. He was so gentle with you, you could tell he had experienced while you had none, but you knew this was different for him. You hadn’t known if he had been with men before, but none of that mattered when he was kissing you like this. He slightly grinded against your bulge in your jeans, in response earning a few drawn out moans from the both of you.

“You’re very beautiful, I hope you know..” Elio whispered almost breathlessly in between kisses, holding your hand while cupping your cheek with his other hand. “I’ve wanted to do this since you showed up, you were so cute all frozen there..” He teased, making you flushed with embarrassment. “I thought you hated me.. You were so cold to me.” You told him bashfully, looking to the side, too nervous to make eye contact with the beautiful boy on top of you.

“I didn’t want you to find out I thought you were attractive and then hate me, liking guys isn’t the most common thing here.” Elio admitted, sitting up on his knees and staring at his hands, mentally kicking himself for treating you badly.

“I guess it’s something we have in common.” You giggled, and Elio pulled you in for a few hundred more kisses.

[heavyhitterheaux]

Concept for First Lady

"I saved your fucking image."

“Why do we ALWAYS do this?” Jack exclaimed while throwing his hands up towards you, but all you did was attempt to put your excuse of hair into a ponytail because you didn’t know the last time you actually brushed it. 

“We always don’t do anything, you brought it up so I answered your question.” You fired back while looking at the two mismatched socks on your feet.

“I’m trying here so the least you can do is cut me some slack!”

“Jackman, if this is what you call trying to at least attempt to act like you care about this marriage, this is one hell of a poor job.”

“Here we fucking go. Don’t you think that if I wanted a divorce or to separate from you that I would have done it already?” Jack asked and you could tell he was immediately filled with regret as his eyes went wide and all you did was stare at him.  

“There’s still time to go to the courthouse today if that’s your heart’s desire since it’s only eleven in the morning. But let’s be serious I saved your fucking image because come the fuck on, I could have thrown your ass under the bus. No matter how you mistreated me and put your wife, someone that you gave your last name to on the back burner, I still did right by you. As much shit as you did and it wasn’t a secret, it got played out for the entire world to see but yet, I never spoke bad about you ONE TIME. Because as much as you constantly give me headaches, I love you and I do want to save this marriage. But if I’m the only one trying then fuck it. The one thing that really sticks out in my mind is when I actually did fight Anitta and you didn’t even ask me if I was okay, not once. Despite how she had acted towards me ever since she met me. I told you how I felt about her and all you did was ignore me in order to try and boost your career. The career that I helped you create, but whatever.” You simply shrugged your shoulders and tried to walk past Jack, but he caught your wrist and lightly tugged on it.

Deep down, he knew that he had been difficult towards you and it had been hard to process his emotions and Jack did feel some type of way about how he had treated you. He broke the one promise to you when you told him not to ever forget where he came from or the people that helped him get to where he was, but now he had done the exact opposite and the fame had got to his head.

It took him hearing it from his mother to finally realize it.

“Y/N…. wait a second.” 

All you did was turn to look up at him and let out a deep sigh.

“I promise to do better and do right by you….. And them. I’m sorry I just…. I know for a fact that I have to be better about expressing how I feel towards you and a few months ago, I thought that I was going to lose you forever. Please don’t ever think that I don’t love you because I do. I love you more than life itself and just for the past year I haven’t been the best husband that I could be and want to get back in your good graces and fix this. I’m tired of us fighting and we have three little ones that don’t need to grow up in a dysfunctional household. You know for a fact that divorce would never be an option for me on my end. I was serious when I asked you to marry me at nineteen and I’m still serious now.”

“It’s not just us anymore and they should always be your first thought.” You quietly said as you could hear through the baby monitor that they were awake.

“I’ll…. Go make an appointment with Fatima after I check on them.”

The two of you had been seeing a marriage counselor named Fatima and you could tell that she was genuine and also wanted the best for the two of you.

“That sounds like a good idea.” You quietly answered as you simply hugged yourself in your pink oversized sweater that Jack bought you years ago, not bothering to make eye contact with him.

“We’re going to get through this, baby. One step at a time.” Jack quietly said as he leaned down to kiss your forehead.

All you did was nod in response as you sat down on the bed and simply stared off into space. 

Jack simply sighed as tears pricked the corners of his eyes as he walked out of your shared bedroom and was on his way to the triplets room when he pulled out his phone to do a quick google search.

He knew that something was wrong. 

What are the signs of postpartum depression?

[moonlightdreamzz]

THIN APOLOGIES / PART 1

SUMMARY ✰ Mark is your boyfriend, and Vernon is your best friend. You're sick of Mark not treating you right, and Vernon is too. He's also sick of watching from the sidelines when he knows no one can make you happier than him.

PAIRING ✰ Idol!Mark x Idol!Reader x Idol!Vernon

GENRE ✰ ANGST & FLUFF

NOTE ✰ This is actually the first story I ever wrote in my entire life three years ago. It’s my baby. I said to myself, I should rewrite this because the original version was written like the beginner I was at the time. I hope you all enjoy. It’s so good.

© moonlightdreamzz

Blonde by Frank Ocean has been playing on loop for hours over your speakers. For what seems like days, your gaze has been fixed on the candle blazing in front of you. There are numerous reasons why you can't take your eyes off its flame—the first being that if you do, you'll be forced to see all of the decorations and food you prepared for Mark, who has decided for the third time in a row that you aren't important enough to show up for. All of his favorite things are strewn throughout your living room, unused.

The second reason you can't tear your gaze away from the flame is that you're intrigued. The lavender-scented wax is nearing the end of its life after being used for so long. What happens when there’s none left? Does the flame die peacefully? Or does the jar burn and combust, leaving you regretting not extinguishing the flame sooner?

Sick isn't the word to describe how your boyfriend has made you feel over the past few months. You’ve tried to see the positives of his absence right now, but it’s utterly impossible. What could you say to yourself? At least you got ditched in the comfort of your own home this time, Y/N? And not in a restaurant, or a random parking lot his manager drove you to?

Mark always has his excuses of course. His favorite one to use was that you don’t understand the sacrifices it takes to be an idol. When the two of you first began to have issues, you took those words to heart. You know how much he’s sacrificed to be where he is, and you never wanted him to think you were that girl—the girl who got in a relationship with an idol and acted like she didn’t know what she was signing up for. As time passed, you realized that he was just manipulating you.

He’s so good at it too. Or maybe he’s just an incredibly beautiful man, whose doe eyes could convince anybody that he indeed is a good person—he just doesn’t think sometimes. You just wish he’d understand that you indeed do understand his life, it’s simply his unfulfilled promises that are so incredibly frustrating. Summer Walker once said, “it doesn’t matter how hard I I try, I say it nice, yell it out loud, write it down, I’m tired.” She damn sure was right.

“Why plan a date you can’t come to? Just tell me it’ll be awhile before I’ll see you again.”

“I’m sorry, baby. I thought I could make it.”

Your phone begins vibrating on your coffee table infront of you, interrupting the reflecting that you’re tired of doing anyways. You know it’s Mark, back again with whatever his reason is this time for not showing up. For a second, you consider not picking it up. Maybe if he knew what it felt like to be abandoned, he’d stop doing it to you.

You inhale deeply before picking up the phone, surprised at whose name is popping up.

“Vernon?” You whisper to yourself. You feel a brief burst of happiness before immediately shifting to concern due to the time of night.

You and Vernon have been close friends since debut. Some would say it’s because you two are the English speakers of your group, but you only saw that as a plus in your friendship. In reality, Vernon was a quirky, artsy, adorably curious boy, and you always felt this weird urge to…protect him. You figure he was drawn to how you never judged him, and how open you were about what you referred to as “Vernon’s philosophies”. He got your jokes, and you pretended you understood his. The rest is history.

Laughter escapes your throat, scaring you simultaneously as you can’t remember the last time you genuinely found anything funny. In the midst of your giggles, Vernon begins to FaceTime you, and you don’t hesitate to answer the phone.

You can see through the phone how hard he’s trying to be irritated with you, but you also notice how bad he’s failing at doing so. The corner of his pink lips are twitching, and his hooded eyes are melting along with it as neither of you break virtual eye contact with each other. This only makes you laugh even harder. His flawless features don’t hold long, and he’s smirking boyishly now.

“You really think this is funny, huh?”

“Absolutely.”

“Well you know what I think is funny right now? You’re alone right now.” He jokes.

“Ha ha,” You laugh sarcastically, “Am I really this worthless? Like be honest.” You question, a sad smile naturally creeping onto your features as reality attempts to set back in.

Vernon’s eyes roll aggressively, followed by a deep inhale. You know him. He wants to tell you about yourself, and remind you of all the times you promised him you’d have more confidence, just to end up asking him questions like this in the end. It takes him longer than you expected to find kind words to say to you, but you appreciate the fact that he cares enough to spare you, because he wouldn’t do it for anyone else.

“Don’t ever call yourself worthless. He’s the worthless one. If he can’t see how amazing you are,that’s his problem and you shouldn’t just sit here and take it, Y/N. That’s not even like you.”

“But…I love him.”

“Yeah...that always sucks doesn’t it?” He says, almost as if he’s speaking to himself and not you. “I know it’s late, but how about I come keep you company Y/N?. You deserve to be happy for at least a few hours don’t you think?” He chuckles.

He’s no longer looking directly at you. He’s looking at whatever is below him now. Vernon coming to keep you company isn’t a terrible idea. Right now, you so deeply crave to be around someone who actually cares about you, and he’s a clear candidate.

“Yeah! Let me get dressed and I’ll come pick you up.”

“Do really think I’d let you leave your house at this hour to do anything for me?”

“Well, how else are you gonna get here? You don’t have a car and I know your manager is knocked out.”

His boyish smile returns, and you already know a sarcastic comment is closer than around the corner. “You ever heard of uber?”

Now you’re the one rolling your eyes. Was this okay? I mean, the two of you are only friends, but Dispatch nor fans would care about that if they so happened to be stalking you. Him coming over late could turn into a whole situation that you aren’t in the mood to hear about.

“What if you get caught?” You question, although unconsciously do you begin to tidy up in your living room.

“I didn’t.”

He didn’t? Was he already—

Your doorbell ringing interrupts your thoughts.

“Vernon!” You scream through the phone, so many questions running through your mind.

“Are you going to let me in, or are we gonna hangout from outside the door?” He snickers slyly.

You should have known he was up to no good the moment you couldn't identify where he was from his surroundings. All you saw was darkness, but you imagined he was walking around his neighborhood or simply in the dark, because that was so Vernon.

With precision and quickness, you run to the door and open it. You’re still dolled up; face beat like it’s prom night from the date you should’ve been wrapping up by now. Vernon steps in, and for a second it seems like he’s frozen in place. It’s embarrassing, as you often got reactions like this when you dressed up because without an occasion, you were going to choose sweatpants, a graphic tee, and crocs everytime.

“Woah.” He utters.

“What? You just saw me on the phone, Vernon.” You question amusingly before walking to your kitchen to grab him a water.

“Thank you.” He whispers as he takes it out of your hand. “It’s just…you’re so…ugly.”

You know that he thinks you’re going to hit him immediately, so you wait an extra second before punching him lightly in his stomach.

“Shut up!” You laugh, loudly this time. It’s a rare occurrence these days for anything to unconsume your mind of Mark Lee, but Vernon’s doing that with ease right now. “You stay your ass right there and I’ll be back. I should probably take all this off.” You whisper while pointing to you and all your current glory.

“Take your time.” Vernon utters, no funny business in the room now. His smile is gentle as he nudges you towards your room.

You began walking in slow motion down your hallway. “Oh trust me, I will.” It doesn’t take you long to strip down to your natural state. You remove your clothes first, settling on a gray t-shirt you’ve had for years. If you didn’t have company, you’d stop it at that. You decide on some matching gray pajama shorts. The sight of Mark’s clothes in the drawer pisses you off all over again. As you remove your makeup, you can't help but squeal with delight. The wipes that you bought in replacement of the ones that took way too many to clean your face, was worth the investment.

The final touch is your bonnet, which you slip on your head with ease. Your icy feet drag over the hallway floor, a flood of fatigue washing over you.

“Awe.” Vernon coos when you reappear. In the midst of you getting ready for bed, he carefully placed all of the decorations you left out for Mark out of sight in the kitchen. He really wanted to throw it away, but that wasn’t his decision to make. Netflix is waiting for two of you.

“Don’t awe me.” You plop yourself on the couch so hard you’re pretty sure Vernon levitates for a second. You push the button to recline your seat, shutting your eyes right and leaning your head back with a sigh. “Thank you, Vernon.” You say the second you realize he cleaned up your clutter. The room feels less heavy now that you’re not forced to look at your wasted hard work. You feel his gaze on you, but energetically, you can’t interpret why he’s staring at you. You’ll settle on pity.

“Ah, I haven’t done much. Plus, you’ve always been there for me.”

Your comfort turns into guilt, recalling all the times you haven’t been there for your close friend in the midst of you and Mark’s relationship crashing. “Not like this.” You utter.

“Well, no you haven’t surprised me with a big box of donuts and a new video game,” He chuckles, “But you’ve been there for me. A lot of times unknowingly, if I’m being honest. Your presence alone…does a lot for me—I mean, for people.” He rambles. “Plus, I’m one of a kind, anyways.”

A smile creeps onto your features at him teasing you lovingly. You’re beginning to doze off, which typically makes you stare at things unintentionally. Your target tonight is Vernon, who is sitting extremely close to you right now. Your hand begins to entangle themselves in his locs, causing his eyes to flutter in relaxation.

“Enough about me.” You protest softly, “What’s going on in the life of Hansol, hm?”

“Nothing much,” He whispers, enjoying the feeling of your hands running through his scalp. His eyes are stuck on the ceiling, but you know he’s still listening to you. “I’m like a robot these days. I wake up, go to practice, go back to the dorm, sleep, repeat.”

“Why didn’t eat make the list?”

“Oh yeah, that too. But you know me. If I have to pick between sleeping and eating, I’m picking the first option.”

“Oh I know.” You can’t count on one hand the amount of times you scolded Vernon for sleeping too much, even though you do the same thing the second you get a break from schedules.

“Too much of a good thing, is a bad thing, Vernon.”

“Not everything.” He whispers, seemingly dazed out now. You’re ceiling wasn’t that interesting. He has something on his mind, but you’re not sure if you want to pick his brain. If he wanted you to know what’s on his mind, he’d say it. At the same time, you’re his right hand woman, and he’ll just have to deal with you being in his business.

Your eyebrows raise in an interrogative fashion. “Give me an example?”

“You.” He says simply. His eyes lock themselves into yours confidently, but you’re unsure how to feel. What was he trying to say? Is he flirting? Is he just being kind? It’s always been so hard for you to understand him when he gets like this.

“What about me?” Is all you can manage. You’re not sure why you’re nervous now, but you are. You hope you’re not making it obvious that his comment has made your breathing unsteady.

“I’m just saying it’s impossible to get tired of you. ‘Too much’ of you,” he air quotes, “would make the world a much better place.”

“You think so?” You question genuinely. “Mark doesn’t seem to think so.”

“Mark is a fucking idiot.” He spits out.

“I’m not gonna disagree.”

“I mean look at everything you did for him today, just for him to not show up?” Vernon begins to frantically point in all directions of your home, including at yourself as well as your kitchen. “What kind of boyfriend doesn’t come home to this?”

Silence is the only thing you can provide right now. One because he’s right, but two, because you’ve never seen Vernon so riled up on your behalf. He was the one always talking you off cliffs, not the other way around.

“Sorry,” He clears his throat. His voice is back to his regular tone now.

“Don’t be. Thank you for caring about me.”

You don’t know why, but you feel a desire to nuzzle into Vernon’s shoulder, so you do. Naturally, he wraps his arm around your shoulder to allow you more comfortability. Maybe it’s wrong, maybe it’s not, but it doesn’t feel wrong being in his arms right now. You know if you consider Mark, you should pull away, but when’s the last time Mark considered you?

“Is this okay?” He questions, his tone a mixture of hope and concern as he’s likely reading your mind right now. He had a knick for that when it came to you.

“It’s okay.” You decide. I mean, who’s going to catch you?

The two of you lay like that for the remainder of the night, watching a movie that Vernon puts on, but you can't concentrate. All you can think of is how you're lying in the arms of another man, your heart fluttering. That isn't supposed to happen. However, your thoughts are brief because you quickly find yourself dozing off in his arms that feel as if they never want to let you go.

It’s the wee hours of the morning when your phone rings, and then vibrates, indicating someone has called and texted you.

You and Vernon sleep through it.

TO BE CONTINUED

© moonlightdreamzz

[televisionlassie]

The reason I find Jason to be boring is because people are so scared to hold him accountable. You can’t claim to like anti-hero’s or claim that Jason is an anti-hero if you’re going to excuse everything that makes him an ANTI-hero.

There is no doubt in my mind that I would like him a whole lot more if people accepted him as a character that does bad things. I understand he has trauma and his own reasons but trauma is only an explanation, not an excuse. While I like consuming content of the batfamily being a family, when it’s not based in pretty much an entirely different universe it doesn’t make any sense.

Pretty much all of the batfamily (except Bruce because he’s can actually be pretty awful to Jason) has reasons to hate or be mad at Jason.

Jason went out in a Nightwing outfit and killed people to try and ruin Dick’s image, and all the shit he’s done to Dicks other siblings. You really think Dick would just be cool with the fact that Jason beat one of his little brothers and shot another one?

Cass has a moral code probably stricter than Batman, she would HATE Jason for killing. And again same thing with the siblings.

Tim I just don’t understand why he would ever forgive Jason. Jason beat the absolute shit out of him, plus you gotta admit that guy is too much of a cocky bitch to ever just forgive and forget

Unfortunately I can’t say much about Steph as I can’t think of a single time where they actually interacted in canon. But I don’t think she would be too fond of the guy who beat up her best friend and shot Damian.

Duke I think has had one personal interaction with Jason and while it wasn’t too friendly I don’t think he would hold that big of a grudge.

Damian I think would be more understanding but it’s hard to forget how he was shot by Jason and had to have his SPINE replaced because of Jason.

I’m not trying to hate on Jason, he honestly makes me sad because he is filled with wasted potential. It’s not even that they never make him do bad things, it’s that there’s never any lasting consequences.

Many times when I see people who hate on Jason they bring in the death penalty argument, which as much as I hate and believe is stupid, still has some tiny bit of validity. The reason it sucks is because the world of DC comics is not even remotely similar to our real life. Criminals in real life don’t have plant powers or convoluted plans to distribute their weird ass poisonous gas. If they did, they wouldn’t even spend a night in jail because they would be shot on the spot. If Jason did just kill these types of criminals, then he would not be considered an anti-hero, just a hero. But that’s the thing, Jason doesn’t just kill the Joker, or the Riddler or any of the Rogues, he kills the type of criminals we would see in our real lives. THAT is where the validity lies in that argument, it’s not just that Jason is killing supervillains but that he is killing the type of people that we are fighting against the death penalty for. Obviously this argument means nothing to you if you are pro-death penalty but I just wanted to explain.

Jason would be so interesting if he was treated like the character he is supposed to be. A young traumatized person who does bad things for the right reasons but still has to face the consequences.

And if people really want to give him a character arc where he eventually stops killing, it shouldn’t just be he gets tried of killing or tired of arguing with Bruce, but that he sees how his way of crime-fighting can do more harm than good.

It’s just so frustrating to see how people just act accept anti-heros for what they are. It like people are so scared of making or admitting a character to be immoral, that they just erase the consequences of their bad actions to make it excusable.

Anyways, thank you for coming to my rant, Jason Todd fans this wasn’t me hating on your babygirl, I’m trying to help you.

[bagel-muncher]

I'm gonna be cringe asf and post wip stuff about one of my Persona oc's because I like this little guy and I'm tired so therefore immune to thinking why this is dumb to post.

So for some important background info, a lot of my characters are framed around basically a hypothetical Persona game that exists solely in my brain. The core theme of it is dreams, in the sense of both sleep and your aspirations and such. All of the Persona-Shadow-saving-the-world junk happens in their dreams. I don’t know the best way to describe it, but basically, the line between the collective unconscious and the individual subconscious has weakened and now Shadow’s are spilling into people's dreams, attacking them and leaving them brain-dead. Enter the MC and their group with all the Persona shenanigans you’d expect to try and stop this.  

So all that barely coherent background info aside, onto Yoshitada. He’s 20 years old and serves as the Navigator of the group once he joins later on (how and why is still up in the air, everything here is mostly vague ideas though I’m leaning towards a P4 type “they’re saved in their dreams and awaken to their Persona when confronted by their Shadow’s there”). The simplest way to describe him would be as another character in the same “bro” archetype as Junpei, Yosuke, and Ryuji. An idiot at times, but cares a lot about his friends and teammates and would do whatever he can to protect them.

His full name is Yoshitada Saito, but he mainly goes by Yoshi. He saw the dinosaur from Mario and went “Yeah that’s me frfr” (jk). He doesn’t like being referred to by his last name by anyone, both because he prefers to treat practically everyone like a close friend (he'd be like "Hey man, we're buds, yeah? Just call me Yoshi, no need to be all formal and shit!") and because of his parents.

To explain that last bit, his parents left him with his mom’s brother as a kid before driving off to who-knows-where. This led to him forming a lot of resentment toward his parents, making them among the few people he isn’t fond of. He lived with his uncle for the majority of his life, and he still lives in his uncle’s house after he passed. He doesn’t like his last name because it connects him to them.

I’m not sure if popular is the word I’m looking for, but he’s very well-known throughout town. Both for positive (his friendly demeanor, willingness to help others, and great work ethic) and negative reasons (him being loud as fuck, tending to sort of force himself into a situation, and just having dyed hair and that many piercings and the assumptions it brings). He’s generally well-liked, but people often feel like he’s trying too hard to be friendly or helpful, making them think it’s all just an act.

His unique appearance is entirely thanks to the fact that he thinks it looks rad as hell. He knows that it can give people a bad impression of him at first glance, but doesn’t care. To Yoshi, appearances don’t matter at all. If someone is scared off by him having blue and green hair or a face full of piercings, that’s an issue for them.

He plays the drums! His S-Link is started by him and the MC forming a mini-band just for fun in Yoshi’s garage. Band practice would be the main excuse for the two of them to hang out (like how most of Ryuji’s is prefaced with him and Joker training or Naoto’s is him and Yu trying to understand the whole Phantom Thief thing, etc.), usually starting with band practice before turning to them talking or going somewhere else for whatever reason. It’s through this that Yoshi starts to reveal more of himself to the MC, talking about his parents and other stuff that bothers him as much as he tries to pretend it doesn’t. I imagine the big thing of his link would be his parents wanting to get in contact with him again after over a decade, and him having to learn and accept that not everyone deserves the kindness he tries to treat everyone with.

His Persona is something I’m still undecided on, mainly because I’m trying to figure out some other characters and want to try and find some consistent theme or source that’d make sense. As a placeholder, I’ve just given him Apollo. As a god of music and prophecy, it combines one of Yoshi’s interests with his role in the team in a way that I think makes sense. His Arcana is the Strength.

Most of the cast is in college, except for Yoshi. He just works, flipping between jobs as he tries to find what works best for him.

Thanks to what a friend said ages ago, it is now canon that he has shitty posture. Bro sits like a shrimp.

As this is something that exists solely in my mind and as such is untouched by logic and Atlus’s rules, there’d be a male and female mc. That may seem random to mention, but I bring it up because Yoshi is gay, but is romancable with either protag. The thing is, getting closer to the male MC is what made him realize he liked guys. He’s had a ton of girlfriends over the years because he thought that was just what he was supposed to do and he never wanted to turn anyone down, but none of the relationships lasted. Yoshi tried constantly, but he could never be as interested or involved in the relationship as his girlfriends, so they’d eventually break up with him. This extends to the female MC. He thinks “Well, we’re really close. She cares about me, and I care a shitton about her. So… we probably should try to date, right?”, not really understanding the difference between his platonic love for her and what romantic love is supposed to be like. So romantic scenes like Valentine’s Day, Christmas, etc. would have him being a lot more stiff and awkward compared to the male MC, where he is genuinely in love.

(from my lovely oomf @nero1forte)

[tojikai]

I have a small message for some readers: stories and characters develop. People are going to change for the better or the worst, that’s just how it goes. Naomi wasn’t always the perfect girl (she never was), and with Gojo that’s up to you. Some people feel like he hasn’t done enough or doesn’t deserve Y/N for what he’s done to her, shit even Gojo himself feels like he doesn’t. That’s totally valid. But it’s weird when some readers are frustrated that characters try redeeming themselves or turn out to be terrible or even just make mistakes 😭 no one is perfect, that would make for a boring story. honestly this behavior happens sometimes and I just don’t get it. That anon that was victim blaming gojo for almost getting r*ped and excusing naomi really got under my skin and I felt like I had to say something. ANYWAY.

One thing I wanna say is, good for his dad. He’s finally doing what he should’ve done earlier. Staying together for a kid is never a good idea, they can always tell and it’s better to live with two parents that are happier apart than miserable together. Satoru probably saw how his father tolerated his mother and it skewed his view on relationships. But not anymore, I hope they both cut that parasite out of their lives for good. I hope that they can both go no contact easily but poor Satoru is gonna need years of therapy to undo the damage she’s done.

I’m so nervous about what Toji is going to say to Satoru. I’m actually feeling like Toji might tell him that he wants to give Satoru another chance with Y/N. Another reader pointed out that Toji had the luxury to live out their happy family and I know he would want Y/N and Yui to have that opportunity. Toji has his faults but he’s a good person and I said a couple chapters back he wants Y/N to be happy.

I DO THINK he should be letting Y/N make these decisions to be honest but I don’t even know what Toji is gonna say so let me stop before I get ahead of myself LOL

Satoru was too lenient on Naomi but it’s his decision to make on what he thinks should happen. A legal battle would just put the entire situation at the forefront of his life for months, maybe years and he just seems tired of it all. I just hope she leaves and doesn’t ever come back, she’s done enough.

Through it all, I wonder what Y/N wants. Would she be willing to give Gojo another chance? Does she even still love him like that? We’ve been a bit in the dark about her actual feelings for him, we just know what she’s been thinking. She’s a very reserved protagonist, even to us as readers I think. Toji can make her happy, I think she knows this too. So if a decision was to be made by her, I wonder what she’d choose.

I’m hoping that this zoo hangout can give them some peace and clarity for their future. Whatever it is, I know you’ll do it justice. This next chapter is either the final one, or the second to last one and I’m so excited!

Thank you so much Kai, this chapter was incredible and I hope uni is treating you well 🥰 much love to you and I appreciate your work so much. Be well!

hiiii, this is so on point. just like real people, these characters change depending on the situation they go through and information they acquire. i feel like some readers wants someone perfect, but having perfect characters could literally end an angst story in a chapter or 2 so that's less fun 😭 as for toji, he really wants yn to be and he can make her happy, it's just that their situation isn't really helping or allowing it to happen smoothly 🥹 satoru was being a soft about what he wants to happen to naomi for the sake of peace. man's just tired and other than that, he's blaming himself for it too. it's like he's thinking that it wouldn't have happened if he didn't drag it long :(( As for yn's feelings, i hope chapter 8 can deliver it well, it's in there !! anw thank you so much for this, im grateful for all of your support to me and this story<3 i hope you're doing well~

[queenofcats17]

What Could Have Been

I had some more ideas for @hlvrai-twh~

The title comes from “What Could Have Been” from Arcane

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

The first thing Gordon does when Benrey walks up to him is apologize.

“Hey, man. I’m really sorry about all that.”

It catches Benrey off guard.“Sorry?” He echoes. “About what?”

“About the whole...making you the bad guy thing,” Gordon clarifies. “And the way I treated you. I know it’s not an excuse, but I was really stressed and I ended up taking it all out on you.” He smiles apologetically. “You didn’t deserve to be the scapegoat. I’m really sorry.”

His smile is gentle and kind, his eyes full of genuine regret.

“Why didn’t...Why didn’t you say that sooner?” Benrey asks, some of his hurt leaking into his voice. “If you were really sorry why didn’t you tell me before?”

A part of him thinks, “too little too late”. This isn’t going to save Gordon from his punishment, he tells himself.

“I wasn’t thinking,” Gordon says. “Tommy had to point it out to me. Like I said, I know it’s not an excuse.” He scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “You’re my friend and I shouldn’t have treated you like that."

Benrey can feel his resolve crumbling. “I’m your...friend?” His voice is small, hopeful.

“Yeah, man.” Gordon smiles at him, full of fondness. “You’re really funny and I like being around you.”

Tears are welling up in Benrey’s eyes. “Then why’d you shoot me? Why’d you make me the bad guy?” All his feelings are boiling over, all his hurt coming to the surface. “I didn’t wanna be bad. I didn’t wanna be the bad guy!”

“I know.” Gordon’s smile becomes regretful once more. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

Benrey’s about to start yelling, about to start unloading all his pain and anger onto Gordon. He wants to scream and cry and get out all the uncomfortable feelings that have been swirling in his chest their entire journey.

Then Gordon hugs him.

The hug is gentle but firm. Gordon has a strong grip. Benrey had thought more than once that Gordon probably gave good hugs. Now he knows he was right.

“I know I can’t fix everything with an apology,” Gordon whispers, his breath tickling Benrey’s ear. “But I want to try. I want to be friends. Can we start over? Please?” There’s a pleading note to that last word.

All of Benrey’s walls come crumbling down and he begins to absolutely wail, clinging to Gordon like a drowning man might cling to a life preserver. Everything he wants to say comes rushing out, although it’s pretty incomprehensible given how hard he’s crying. Gordon still listens. He’s quiet, continuing to hold Benrey until he stops crying. Once Benrey’s coherent again, Gordon asks him to repeat what he was saying.

Benrey hesitates, but he does. He tells Gordon everything he’s been feeling, all his anger and frustration and pain. He also apologizes for the whole arm thing because he does genuinely feel bad about that.

And Gordon listens.

The only time he interrupts is when Benrey mentions his data is being deleted.

“Wait, what?!” He puts his hands on Benrey’s shoulders, immediately looking panicked. “You’re being deleted?!”

Benrey sniffles loudly. “Yeah...”

He doesn’t tell Gordon what his plan was to escape this fate. He doesn’t know if he’ll still use the plan, but it’s looking less and less appealing. He already didn’t want to do it, but after Gordon apologized? After Gordon held him as he cried?

Would he be able to live with himself if he betrayed Gordon now?

Gordon’s look of panic transitions to one of stubborn determination and he takes Benrey’s hand, charging off down the hall.

“Where’re we goin’?” Benrey asks.

“To find the others,” Gordon answers. “They have to know how to fix this. You’re not getting deleted.”

Benrey almost feels like crying all over again. He’s so tired, everything hurts, and all he can focus on is Gordon’s hand in his and Gordon’s warm voice assuring him that he’s not going to let Benrey die.

He barely registers when Gordon finds the others and begins to explain the situation. There’s a lot of technical jargon being thrown around by Coomer, Gman, and Gordon.

Tommy moves over to hug Benrey as the others talk. “We’ll- We’ll figure this out,” he assures Benrey. “You won’t get deleted.”

“Like Hell we’re going to let you die like this,” Bubby agrees, folding his arms.

“I don’t understand what’s going on,” Darnold chimes in. “But it does seem pretty unfair.”

Forzen doesn’t say anything, but he nods in agreement at the others’ statements.

Tommy, Darnold, and Bubby don’t seem to completely understand the whole “this world is a game” thing, but they’re all in agreement that they can’t stand by while Benrey potentially dies.

It feels good to have everyone united in support of him.

He can’t go through with his previous plan now. Not when everyone has come together for him like this. None of them would ever forgive him if he did. And he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself.

Gman, Coomer, and Gordon do a lot of talking for a few more hours, with Gordon taking off his headset a few times to look at something in the game’s code. Tommy, Darnold, Forzen, and Bubby stay with Benrey, trying to keep him comfortable and distract him from the pain of being slowly deleted. They remind him of things he might have forgotten because of the deletion.

The deletion is still unbearably painful, but at least he isn’t alone while experiencing it. He takes comfort in this. He’s going to be alright. They’re going to figure this out. He’s not alone. His friends care about him.

He’s loved.

Finally, whatever Gordon and the others were doing is complete. And the pain stops.

“Did it work? Is he safe?” Gordon asks, looking between Gman and Benrey.

“He should be stable now,” Gman confirms with a nod.

“How do you feel?” Tommy looks down at Benrey, who’s laying with his head in Tommy’s lap.

“I feel...good,” Benrey says. “Doesn’t...doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“Wonderful news, Bipple!” Coomer proclaims with a grin.

"Oh thank God.” Gordon lets out a laugh of relief, taking off his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. “I was really scared we were going to lose you.”

“Yes, that could have been...” Gman pauses, his pale blue eyes slowly trailing over to where Benrey was being spun around by Tommy. “Very bad, indeed.”

Their group goes out to Chuck E Cheese afterward. None of them are quite sure how this is possible, but they decide not to question it. They’re just glad to be out of Black Mesa and have their friend’s safety guaranteed. They eat pizza, drink soda, and play dumb arcade games.

Benrey sits between Gordon and Tommy, not focused on following the argument that’s going on, simply enjoying being with his friends. This is what he wanted. He’s with his friends, he and Gordon have made up, and he’s not at risk of being deleted.

Everything is alright.

Gordon throws an arm around him, dragging him over. “Benrey! Weigh in on this!” He demands. His face is flushed and there’s a fiery intensity in his eyes.

Benrey feels his own face grow warm. “Huh? Wha-?”

“Don‘t drag him into this!” Bubby slams his hands on the table. “You can’t use him to make your stupid point!”

“What’s, uh, what’s goin’ on?” Benrey asks.

“They’re arguing about whether Chuck E Cheese is a restaurant or not,” Darnold explains, not looking up from whatever science he’s been doing with his soda.

“It is!” Gordon insists. “It serves food!”

“No, it is not!” Bubby fires back.

“It is a family entertainment center that contains a restaurant,” Gman agrees. “The entire establishment is not a restaurant.”

“What the fuck are you on about?!” Gordon yells.

Forzen and Tommy loudly sip their soda while Coomer begins to recite the Wikipedia article for “restaurant”.

Benrey smacks his lips. “I’unno,” he says. “Does...Uh...Does this place have a license to be a restaurant? Got the right documentation?”

For a second, it seems like Gordon is about to start yelling again. Then he erupts into raucous laughter, pulling Benrey closer.

“Come on, man! I’m trying to win an argument!”

“Gotta have those documents, bro,” Benrey says, which only makes Gordon laugh even harder.

This feels good. This feels right. All of them together, laughing over some dumb shit that doesn’t matter.

He wants this to last forever.

.

Benrey woke up crying.

He sat up, beginning to cry even harder at the curtain of long brown hair that obscured his vision as he did.

He’d had dreams like this before, but never this vivid. Never this real. He could still taste the cheap pizza, still feel Gordon’s warm body against his. It felt like a glimpse into another world. Was that what it would have been like if he hadn’t gone through with his plan? Was that what he could have had?

He drew his knees up to his chest and covered his face with his hands, still sobbing. Once more, the guilt washed over him, threatening to drown him. He’d ruined everything.

Tommy found him like that when he came to visit. He didn’t ask why Benrey was crying.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked softly, sitting down beside Benrey.

Benrey shook his head, drawing further into himself. He didn’t want to complain to Tommy. He knew it was his own fault. And Tommy would agree, even if he didn’t say it outright. Tommy had some sympathy for him because they were still kind of friends, but even Tommy didn’t forgive him for what he’d done.

“Okay.” Tommy nodded, shifting to sit with his back against the cave wall.

They sat in silence, the only sound being Benrey’s quiet sobs.

Healing would take a long time for everyone. But for now...the wound still gaped.

[borathae]

jimin GROW UP 🙄 DAMN! you manipulative insecure lonely miserable bitch!

jimin moves like an abuser and i’m not playing like i hate to say it. i know he was a victim, but now he’s victimizing others and i’m not about that. if he don’t clean up his act, imma start forcing vamp poison down his throat. truly i’m tired of jungkook being sad bc of tae 😡 i know seokjin and hobi gon be mad. yoongi is probably gonna be pissed too. and if im this fucking mad, i can imagine how pissed OC is gonna be.

u know what jungkook! word to shawn mendez bc i can treat u better than he can.

the juxtaposition of how two of the most important people in tae’s life treats him is so interesting. you have jimin, his best friend and literal proclaimed soulmate, be insecure and jealous, more concerned w keeping tae at his side and willing to hurt everyone (even tae) in the process. then you have oc, his girlfriend, encouraging him to maintain his bonds with other people, crying tears of enjoyment when she sees how happy he is with jimin, smiling when she sees him with jungkook. oc is truly a beautiful soul and just wants everyone happy. even you, jimin, you fucking fool.

now, even though i am pissed with jimin right now, i do understand why he is the way that he is. he literally has no one else but tae, while oc has an entire support system outside of tae. she has her friends hobi, jin, and emma, she has her own soulmate yoongi, she has (friend? lover?) jungkook. jimin has no one. meanwhile, tae is the same as oc in regards to a support system. i understand jimin feels threatened and doesn’t want to be alone, but is his loneliness really more important than tae’s happiness? he’s being extremely selfish right now.

don’t get me wrong, i do want jimin dead right now. but lonely bastards are a fucking nuisance, and that’s what jimin is right now. maybe if he’d reach out and try to form bonds with other people, with tae’s support system, he won’t feel left behind. maybe if he wouldn’t push everyone else away, he won’t worry about being left alone whenever tae’s attention isn’t on him for five fucking minutes.

literally i’ve felt the way jimin has felt before, but you know what i did? i tried to befriend my friends’ friends. i love my friends and trust their judgements, and if they love someone, maybe i can love them too. it’d do jimin well if he adopted this way of thinking instead of being a dirty lowdown FREAK.

jimin moves like an abuser and i’m not playing like i hate to say it. i know he was a victim, but now he’s victimizing others and i’m not about that. if he don’t clean up his act, imma start forcing vamp poison down his throat.

JFADJ MOOD hahha no but I 100% agree with you. Jimin's been acting like a fucking cockhead ever since he came back. Like what happened honey? it's like he saw that Tae moved on with his life when he died and is now trying to destory everything tae build just "to make sure he has space for him" LIKE BRO

ALSO I LOVE THAT COMPARISON BECAUSE IT'S SO FUCKING ACCURATE OMFG

now, even though i am pissed with jimin right now, i do understand why he is the way that he is. he literally has no one else but tae, while oc has an entire support system outside of tae. she has her friends hobi, jin, and emma, she has her own soulmate yoongi, she has (friend? lover?) jungkook. jimin has no one. meanwhile, tae is the same as oc in regards to a support system. i understand jimin feels threatened and doesn’t want to be alone, but is his loneliness really more important than tae’s happiness? he’s being extremely selfish right now.

this this THIS! It honestly "explains" why Jimin acts the way he does. It doesn't excuse it though and he really gotta think about himself for a moment because honey you're not being funny rn

maybe if he’d reach out and try to form bonds with other people, with tae’s support system, he won’t feel left behind. maybe if he wouldn’t push everyone else away, he won’t worry about being left alone whenever tae’s attention isn’t on him for five fucking minutes.

YES! THIS! I AGREE SO HARD OMFG!! like if he only realised that there are other people wanting to be his friend if only he stopped being so jealous all the time. Like even OC has been trying time and time again to befriend him and he always manages to fuck it up one way or the other like bruv please 😩😩

[dis--mayed]

Here are some notes I made about my parents...

While my parents made me feel like we didn’t have enough money, for things like my braces, they were buying cigarettes and dad's drugs. We, also, got an addition on our home, new kitchen flooring, a patio, and a renovated bathroom. They even paid insurance on a van that just sat in our driveway. When I got $4200 from suing, they took half of it to pay bills. (The rest, apparently, went towards my braces, but this was after we sold our home, when I was 23 and I sued when I was 18…) 

Dad - has been abusing drugs and complaining to me about my mom and her family for my entire life. I grew up watching him scream at mom about my brother, and in my late teens, about money. He started passing out, high with cigarettes, in my early teens. He told me that any one of his siblings would take him in and he's only staying with my mom "for me." 

Willingly stayed in a nursing home 2+ months longer than he had to avoid my brother and mom, guilt tripped me about not visiting or calling every day and would make threats to beat mom up if she doesn’t kick my brother out, said mom would choose my brother over me

Told me not to take my frustration with my brother out on mom because it will make her sick, has said that, if something happens to my brother, mom will lose her mind

Doesn’t want to do things with my mom and scolds me when I don’t go out shopping with her. 

Mom - Took care of her from when I was 14-21 when she had gallbladder attacks, she started turning to me to have emotional breakdowns when I was 16, has continued treating me like an extra limb, emotional support animal, empty void for her emotions; constantly guilt trips me into taking care of “the family.” Comes into my room when I’m sleeping almost every night and multiple times, sometimes. 

expects to help her clean up uncle's mess and go food shopping for him, (expected me to) fix up sheds to save my brother money, so he can spend more money on weed and vapes and sit in our house smoking and eating our food. 

When I complain about having to help her fix up the house, she says it’s going to be mine, one day, as if it’s not going to my brothers and cousins, as well.

Helped me drop out of high school, drove me to get my GED and to take the written exam for driving, and tried getting me on SSI, but she was, also, trauma dumping on me as she drove me to and from school and guilt tripping me into doing things with her because she felt suicidal and said she had thoughts of crashing her car into a tree. She told me she didn’t kill herself because I needed her. She, also, had me read the horrendous text messages Bob sent her. 

Sometimes, excuses dad’s drug abuse; was in physical pain, lost his parents, thinks he’s dying, his dad beat him as a child, was molested by his babysitter, etc. 

Says that I’m “spoiled” for having the only room in the house

Shames me both into eating and for eating what she cooks, acts like I’m starving myself, or gets mad at me because she cooked, if I don’t want what she made. Kept doing my laundry, and ignoring me repeatedly asking her not to, until I was 29. 

Said I always focus on the negatives, should remember the "good times," excuses traumatizing me by saying she “was” sick, denies turning to me to have emotional breakdowns

My brother isn't on meds or going to therapy because she doesn’t want him screaming at her and abusing drugs

She’ll “ask” me for permission to do things, like go to the bathroom, or she’ll blame me for why she doesn’t do certain things, like dye her hair purple, because I don’t like that color. 

She talks about how much of a “good person” she is, for sharing her things, and complains about how no one respects her when she “does everything” for everyone, complaining to me, especially, about how tired and shitty she feels when she doesn't even take care of herself in any way.

[rae-gar-targaryen]

I’ve fallen down the mickey garcia rabbit hole thanks to your sunshine!reader hc post,,,,, 👀👀👀 would you happen to have more of those by chance

Thank you so much for this request, my love! I have an ENDLESS amount of HCs for these two. And now that I'm working on a full fic for them (in addition to "take me by the heart, take me by the hand"), so a lot of these may pop up again by reference in that story, so there will be some overlap... But to tide you over until I'm done with the fic, please have more HCs! 

part one here. [full fic coming soon!]

Some are slightly nsfw, with references to sex, so 18+ pls. This got kinda long so pls excuse the readmore. 

It’s canon to me that he calls you, his sunshine!gf, “cielo.” Fanboy and Cielo have an entire life together in some coastal town where they’re walking distance from the beach.

They take their dog, a golden retriever named Artoo, down to the water for walks. Mickey is definitely a dog-person, and when he's home, Artoo doesn't leave his side.

Mickey and Cielo met on a rarely-seen-but-always-appreicated successful Hinge date. They went to an arcade bar after flirty-texting for a few days, and she kicked his ass at StreetFighter, and it was love at first button-smash. It gets a little flirty, with her bumping her hips against his as they stand next to one another at the machines. He can't stop himself from grinning ear to ear that night, smile blinding against the neon light of the bar and the arcade games. She falls in love a little then, hoping she'll get to be the cause of that smile evermore.

His opener was definitely something Star Wars themed -- “Be the Leia to my Han? I’m so tired of being Solo.” She definitely rolls his eyes at him when he’s corny (but let’s be real, she loves it.) 

Thanks to Cielo, Mickey is all about self-care. She teaches him some basic components to a skincare routine when she can’t stand to see him wash his face with basic bar soap one more time, and it sticks. It’s a nightly ritual together -- she gets him into sheet masks, which she sends to him while he’s overseas as part of a care package. 

He gets Payback to try one once, and now he asks for extras in his care package so that Payback can have some, too.  

To the point that when they all have game nights, Payback plays too, headset and sheetmask on in full effect....

She’ll paint his nails, and all the guys know not to say shit about it. 

Rooster is their biggest fan. (I believe that Rooster knows all the wives’/girlfriends’ favorite flowers). 

When Mickey gets back from a deployment, he makes sure to have fresh flowers to give to her when he gets off the plane. And Rooster is like, “Come on, man, she likes daisies and marigolds.”

When they get to the airport, Payback is nonstop teasing -- “You’re walking a little taller than usual. Excited to see anyone in particular?” 

The squad is smitten by how smitten he is with her, and loves to tease him endlessly, especially if she calls him “amor” in front of them. “Amor? Your callsign should have been Romeo!” 

When he comes home, she holds him tight, wrapping her arms around him and dragging her fingers up the back of his neck and along his scalp, scraping against the buzzcut and whispering how much she misses his curls, and that he has time while he’s back to grow them back again. 

They go to the beach sometimes to watch the stars. "I missed you," she murmurs, her head resting on his shoulder.

"I'll make it up to you," he replies, million-watt grin that she loves so much blooming in his face as he loops a finger under her chin and brings her in for a kiss against the backwash of a purpling sunset.

Matching minimalist sun tattoos on the inside of their wrists. An anniversary idea from several years in. At first she thinks it's silly, but he tells her he wants something of her wherever he goes, his personal sunshine.

They go for coffee on Saturdays as a treat -- Cielo always gets hers with an extra shot, no sweetener or syrup.

“I don’t know how you can drink coffee that’s so bitter,” Mickey says, laughing as she sighs into her first sip.

“I have all the sweetness I need right here,” she replies, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He rolls his eyes at this, but is so smitten.

Every time she says something endearing or remotely romantic, or gives him a kiss, or holds his hand in public, she’s not-so-secretly pleased at the flush that blooms its way across the peaks of Mickey’s cheeks and the tips of his ears, loving the contrast along his skin.

They’re definitely a couple that’s touchy in public, but in a way that just is indicative of how complete they are together -- walking in step, his arms slung over her shoulders, smiling into her cheek before pressing a kiss there; her nuzzling his neck when they go to a movie together. Fighting the urge to just climb into his lap at said movie.

Sci-fi movie nights -- they binge the “Predator” series, and make a game out of tossing popcorn into one another’s mouths and taking drinks at the corny lines the other person can quote along to. 

Cielo is a graphic artist. As a gift, she gives Mickey a handmade comic book about the space-exploring misadventures of a rogueish pilot (and his pilot friend) -- called “The Adventures of Fanboy and Payback.” 

Every letter she sends, she adorns with a little cartoon of him with Artoo in the corner.

Speaking of gifts, every year as a gag, she gives him a Mickey Mouse t-shirt on his birthday (along with a real gift, of course). He keeps them all, and usually wears one on Christmas morning, surprising her with it while she's making breakfast, prompting her to turn around and laugh at the selection of t-shirt for that year.

One year, on a milestone anniversary, they go to Disneyland together for the first time, and she buys him a Star Wars-themed Mickey shirt in the park that he pulls on immediately, over the shirt he’s already wearing, grinning like mad. 

“This is the best one yet, mi cielo.” 

Theyre that couple that swaps clothes. He loves her oversized, soft hoodies, and she wears his joggers. 

Their first night home together after he returns from a deployment or an assignment, Cielo always tries to cook something special for him, usually a family recipe from one of their respective relatives. She's an ace at chicken molé.

When they spend the night together his first night back, it’s soft, sleepy, sweet. She surprises him with some pretty lace and a sweet smile on her lips as she surges forward to kiss him and beckon him to bed.

Mickey is a pro at dirty talk.

“Does it feel good, amor, when I touch you like this?”

“I’m wild for you...”

And it always gets a little sweet -- “Every time I see you, I fall in love all over again.” 

Always very attentive and precise with his fingers, he knows exactly what to do and say to make her miss him that much more the next time he leaves. 

She loves the way he touches her -- honeyed fingers over soft skin, full of sweetness, she swears she can feel the trail of them over her neck, shoulders, and arms, even while he’s away... akin to the first sip of orange-sweetned honey, or the pleasant tingle of sugar dissolving on your tongue. If you could feel that sweetness in your heart every moment, so real you could taste it, wouldn’t you indulge? 

After, she draws her finger repeatedly along the curve of his nose, pressing kisses into his neck and begging him not to move.

Mickey loves the summer. The sight of Cielo in her sundresses, days packed with beach dates and paletas... He'd spend winters longing for the summer sun and the desire to the sun and sea air on his tongue. Though that longing paled in comparison to the reality of her before him -- now that he knew what true sweetness could be. Everything else is synthetic by comparison.

He’s an insane kisser.

He hmms into her neck through the smile she knows to be there –  sweet and honeyed little noise, like the tufty soft buzz of bee's wings. And there, now … she feels his lips part, warm, silken and amorous, before pressing against the column of her throat. Loving the feel of his kisses along her skin, as though only his could feel. Radiant and true.

When he has to go next, they spend the morning in bed, just holding hands with their most recently-generated playlist going softly in in the background. And he says he doesn't want to go, and she says, "Of course you do. You've always got your head in the clouds, Mickey." And he starts to tell her that he doesn't love it more than her when he tells her, "But you're in the clouds with me, you're mi cielo."

Sorry, this probably got kinda stupid and too much. The full fic will be better, I promise! 

---

Tagging: @withahappyrefrain @spidervee @andallthatmishigas @thegirlwhowritesfics @xbamboowishesx @friendly-neighborhood-blondie @abibliophobiaa @anna-phora @clints-lucky-arrow @inklore @phoenixhalliwell @ohmagawd-life @thematthewmurdock @mrshipsmcgee @p3mybeloved @decadentpaperduck @letmeplaytheliontoo @vestrangel @moonlight-prose @aphrogeneias @realspideyspice @levylovegood @thatredheadwriter @2clones-1kamino @zombieaurora @shadeds-library @writercole @ijustwantedplums @justalonelyslytherin @ilovepretttystuff @gretagerwigsmuse @fanboysfangirl @shakira-sasha @siriusfahey @hopefulinlove

[urwelcomeforthis]

Alex’s tattoo shows up the day after she punches Marcus Hinkle.

He had been picking on Kara in the hallway, dangling her math book above her head, taking advantage of his summer growth spurt.

Kara still doesn’t know what possessed Alex – Marcus Hinkle had been a thorn in her side since she had landed on Earth and started school a year ago, but whatever the reason, today was the day Alex couldn’t take anymore.

Eliza had been furious. Jeremiah had been (not so) silently proud.

Kara didn’t know what she had felt, really. Especially not when she asked Alex why, and the older girl had just shrugged and said “You’re my sister. It’s what we do.”

Up until this point being sisters meant fights in the hallway over the bathroom and ignoring each other at the dinner table.

Apparently, things were changing.

Kara is just waking up when she hears Alex’s hushed “What the hell?”

“What is it?” She asks, groggily sitting up and wiping at the sleep in her eyes.

Her sister is holding her forearm up, frantically scrubbing at a spot right in the middle, her eyes frantic.

“I don’t…. I don’t know! It’s like a tattoo but I didn’t get a tattoo! Fuck, Mom is going to kill me.” Alex sounds panicked as she continues scrubbing at the spot, and Kara feels her heartbeat speed up.

“You had a tattoo just appear on your skin?” Kara asks slowly, her mind suddenly far away on a planet that doesn’t exist anymore, in a culture she had been forced to leave behind.

Alex stops scrubbing and looks at Kara with a piercing gaze. “Yeah. It’s some funny symbol too, like the way you used to write before you learned English. Did you do this to me?”

Alex leaps off the bed and crosses the room in two quick strides, arm held out like an accusation.

Kara shrinks in on herself a little but nods. “I think so. I didn’t know it was possible here, but well, on Krypton when your soul mate reveals themselves, a tattoo linking you appears. I should have one too, somewhere, if you do.”

Alex stops dead in her tracks, her eyes wide. “Soul mates? But we’re sisters! That’s so gross!”

Jumping up from the bed, hands held up in surrender Kara hastens to explain further. “No! Not like that, I promise! Back home, people had different kinds of soul mates. Sometimes it was the romantic kind like you talk about here on Earth, but other times it could just be a compatible soul, someone who was meant to be a part of you.”

Alex still looks wary, if not relieved, as she tentatively holds out her arm. “So, what does this mean? What kind of soul mates are we?”

Stepping forward Kara delicately traces the symbols on Alex’s forearm. “It literally means “sister of the soul.” Je shesur. The symbol after it is unique, the way we would know we were linked. If this had happened on Krypton it would mean we were soul sisters. Not from the same parents but family just the same.”

Alex nods. “And here on Earth? What does it mean here?”

“The same thing. At least that’s what it means to me.” Kara refuses to meet Alex’s eyes, not sure she wants to see what waits for her there.

There’s a long minute of silence after Alex takes her arm back. The clearing of her throat brings Kara’s eyes up from their place on the ground.

“Where’s yours?” Alex asks, eyes burning with curiosity.

Kara shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s not on my arms like yours is. It must be hidden. Can you look on my back?”

“Sure.” Alex nods. “Lift up your shirt.”

Kara turns and tugs her shirt up and over her head. It takes a moment, but she hears her sister gasp followed by the feel of fingertips against her left shoulder blade.

“It’s the same as mine.” Alex says reverently, and Kara closes her eyes against the emotion welling up there.

Who would have thought she would get to have this piece of home?

“So, I guess I’m stuck with you. For like, ever, huh?” Alex smiles once Kara has turned back around.

Kara grins back. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Alex shrugs. “Could be worse. But you have to tell Mom about this, because she’ll never believe me, and she is going to be pissed that I have a tattoo.”

“Sure, I can tell Mom.” Kara grins, a piece of her heart settling in place. She hasn’t felt at home on Earth, not really, but at this moment she feels like it isn’t all that bad.

--

The next person to get a tattoo is, interestingly enough, James.

It doesn’t come when they’re dating, or whatever it was that they were doing, no.

It comes after he has revealed himself to be Guardian, and he and Kara have the biggest fight of their friendship.

Kara wakes up the morning after tired, groggy, and more than a little cranky. Its as she’s stripping down to get in the shower that she notices it – the Kryptonese scrawled along the inside of her right bicep.

Throniv Shesur. Protector of the soul.

Kara heaves a deep, deep, sigh and grabs her phone.

She meets James at the DEO, both tentative around each other after the yelling match of the day before.

“So. I woke up with a tattoo. Kryptonese. Any idea what that’s about?” James looks smug, like he’s won some kind of battle with Kara and god, at that moment she wishes they were in the training room and she could just punch him.

“Yeah. I did too. It means “protector of the soul.” She crosses her arms against her chest, desperately trying to hold onto her anger from yesterday but the wide grin on James’ face is making it hard.

“I know. I asked Clark first thing since I figured you’re still pissed at me. He was a little surprised, but he translated it for me.”

“Where’s it at?” Kara asks, still pretending to be upset but truthfully it was hard given the glaring message from home telling her that James was meant to be Guardian. That they were meant to protect each other. Protect others together.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” James says with a waggle of his eyebrows and that’s what finally breaks Kara, a laugh ringing out across the room.

It wasn’t who she expected to have a tattoo, not in this way at least, but if it had to be anyone, she’s glad it’s James.

--

Mon-El doesn’t get a tattoo. Kara wishes she were more disappointed.

--

The last person to get a tattoo is someone Kara had desperately hoped both would and would not get a tattoo.

For a long time, she feared what that tattoo would be, if it were to happen. She feared having to explain it, having to explain herself.

She had checked with Clark a few times, when paranoia would get the better of her.

No, he always told her. Lex did not have a tattoo. They were enemies, yes, but it hadn’t been decided by destiny or fate. It just was.

That mollified Kara because she couldn’t stand it if she and Lena were to become Clark and Lex. She would fight against it, fight against fate to keep it from happening.

And then, well. It kind of happens anyways.

They aren’t enemies, not really. Lena just hates Kara and aims a few Kryptonite cannons at her and tries to mind control the entire planet, but really everyone is allowed a brief lapse of their sensibility, right?

And what matters is she came around, in the end.

It did take time, however, for them to build back to what they once had. It was different now, but in the way that things once broken and fixed usually are.

It was better, if anything.

They were back to shared lunches and dinners, quick breakfasts and coffee breaks. They were back to game nights as partners and movie nights as friends, and the occasional sleepovers as best friends.

Things were finally back to normal, so of course Kara had to go and absolutely, irrevocably, mess it up.

It was Alex’s fault, really.

If she hadn’t said anything, if she hadn’t asked Kara what was up between her and Lena lately, Kara probably never would have stopped to think about it.

She never would have stopped to think about the way her heart sped up when Lena entered a room, or the way her palms got sweaty when they hugged, or the way she just could not stop staring at Lena when she laughed at game nights.

But now she had thought of it and had come to the very scary conclusion that she was in love with her best friend.

Her best friend who didn’t have a tattoo.

She would, after all this time, have a tattoo, the tattoo, if they were meant to be together, right?

Kara mulls it over for weeks. It haunts her. She asks Lena about tattoos, and if she has any.

She learns that yes, in fact Lena does have tattoos and boy howdy one of them is on her lower back and it is seared into the back of her eyes now that she has seen it.

But she doesn’t have any kryptonian tattoos, which is really what Kara was aiming for.

Much like it was Alex’s fault that Kara even realized she was in love, it’s also Alex who reminds Kara of one important detail.

“Well I didn’t get my tattoo until after I punched what’s his face. Maybe you have to tell Lena how you feel and then she’ll get the tattoo.”

Kara feels dumb struck, right there on her own couch, because of course, Alex is right.

The tattoos always come after the person has already revealed themselves.

Then of course comes the true fear: what if she tells Lena and she still doesn’t get a tattoo?

That’s the question she’s mulling over the next night as she and Lena sit on her couch watching some documentary that had been put on Netflix.

Lena looks beautiful, face bare of makeup, hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun, glasses slipping down her nose.

She’s eating a piece of pizza, a rare treat after a long week of work, and Kara decides that it doesn’t matter if Lena doesn’t get a tattoo.

She’s hopelessly, desperately in love with the woman and she can’t let a tattoo that may or may not come dictate her life.

“I’m in love with you, you know.” Kara blurts out, like this isn’t a life changing moment, like it’s the easiest thing in the world to say. (It is.)

Lena chokes a little on the bite she was swallowing, her hand coming up to her chest as she sets down the slice.

“Excuse me?”

Kara laughs. She’s never felt more free than in this moment. “I’m in love with you. I just thought you should know.”

Lena looks at her, shock written all over her face. “Oh. I guess that’s good.”

“Just good?” Kara nudges Lena’s thigh with her knee.

Lena shakes her head. “I mean it’s more than good, considering I’m in love with you too.”

“Yeah?” Kara could float up to the moon, she thinks.

Lena smiles, nose crinkled. “Yeah.”

It’s the next morning that Lena calls and asks if Kara can stop by. She has this tattoo she didn’t have yesterday, right on her ribcage, and it looks like it’s Kryptonian.

Kara frantically searches her own body, finding the script on her hip, on the left side.

Zhao Shesur. Love of the soul.

It took them five years to get to this point, but Kara knows, this moment was more than worth the wait.

[mjolnir-steve]

Foolish

Frank Adler x fem!Reader

Word count: 5027 (oop)

Warnings: light drinking, very brief mention of suicide, some cursing, smut (18+ ONLY!!!), unprotected sex (m/f) ... Please let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Hi, y’all! Here’s my entry for @stargazingfangirl18 and @navybrat817’s Shameless Hoes for Chris Challenge!!!! I haven’t written smut in a LONG time, so please be gentle with me LOL. Here’s what I got:

Frank Adler

“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

Breeding / mutual pining 🥴

I’d like to dedicate this to @rodrikstark for always sharing the Frank Adler feels and @sparkledfirecracker for bullying me (with love) into finishing this. ❤️

If you like this fic, please comment and reblog!!! I hope you enjoy. :)

Fridays never seemed to come soon enough. You looked forward to the beginning of the weekend as much as the next person, but over the last few months, Friday nights took on new meaning for you. You moved to the trailer park a little less than a year ago, wanting to buy a small place of your own and start making a home for yourself. It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t expensive, and it was only a ten-minute drive from your office where you’d just secured a promotion. Roberta, the manager, helped you make it feel like home right away, insisting on going with you to pick out paint samples and providing copies of menus for the best take-out in the area.

Before long, Roberta introduced you to the trailer park’s resident certified genius, Mary Adler. Mary and Roberta spent Saturday mornings with you when you were free, which unfortunately, was pretty much all the time. You played games, sang karaoke, and even let Mary’s one-eyed cat Fred come over. He took a liking to your swinging chair in the living room, and if Mary couldn’t find him at home, odds were he somehow squeezed through your window and ended up in that chair. 

Another two months had passed, though, before you met Mary’s uncle and guardian, Frank. You came to learn that Mary stayed with Roberta every Friday night because “Frank needs time to be an adult” and she was not allowed to come back to the house until noon on Saturdays. This information made you feel like Frank must be some kind of sad, perpetual fuckboy. You were right about the sad part, not so much about the latter. One morning while Mary played with your watercolors, Roberta let slip - ironically over a cup of tea - that Frank did have the occasional hookup, but usually, he drank himself sleepy on Friday nights and just needed the time to himself. He worked himself to the bone as a boat mechanic, often late into the night because it was too hot to do some jobs during the day. Frank took Mary in when she was just a baby after his sister, her mother, tragically committed suicide. He spent the majority of his scarce free time with Mary, so when Mary was still a toddler, Roberta offered the Friday night deal. Frank countered that he would do any repairs in the trailer park for free, but she refused to let him do that work without pay, saying he deserved to have a life, too. 

She also informed you that Frank was a former philosophy professor, single, and very attractive, especially if you were into the rugged thing. You rolled your eyes with an amused exhale and took another sip of your tea. You’d be lying if you said your interest wasn’t piqued. Mary then shouted over her shoulder, confirming that she’d been listening to your entire conversation, “Frank is great, but he’s a grump. Good luck cracking that egg.” You snorted, nearly spitting out your tea, and she went back to reading your color theory book to Fred.

With that, you heard a sharp rap at the door. You set your tea down on the kitchen table, curious who your visitor might be. You didn’t know anyone else in the trailer park, or in town, really. You opened the door, taking in the sight of possibly - no, definitely - the most handsome man you’d ever seen. You quickly guessed it was Frank, judging by the grease smeared on his quite large hands. His eyes, though tired, had the same bright look as Mary’s, and he had the most perfectly imperfect fluffy hair and overgrown stubble.

“Good morning,” he said with a sweet, closed-mouthed smile. “Is Mary here?”

You had to remind yourself to breathe. Stammering, you opened the door wider, gesturing inside. “Hi, y-yes. She is!” Why am I like this? “She’s just painting with Fred. Please, come in.” You moved aside so he could fit his broad shoulders through the doorframe and then held out your hand. “You must be Frank. I’m Y/N. Mary is just wonderful.” You smiled at him, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

He took your hand in both of his, gentler than you’d expected. “I’m sorry. Yes, I’m Frank. It’s great to meet you, finally.” He smiled wide for the first time and you were certain you’d pass out. Who LOOKS like this? “And thank you, she really is wonderful. I couldn’t do it without Roberta. She’s family.” He smiled and waved at Roberta, who was looking at you over the lip of her mug.

Mary didn’t even bother to turn around and face Frank. “What are you doing here, Frank? It’s only 11. I have a whole ‘nother hour with my friends.” You tried to keep your laugh quiet, covering your mouth with your hand and shaking your head.

“Well, excuse me for thinking you might like to go out on the boat with me this morning. I guess I’ll go by myself.”

Mary jumped up from the floor, scrambling to clean up your paints and books. “Can Y/N and Roberta come?”

Frank crouched down to meet Mary’s eyes. “Of course they can, if they’d like.” He looked back at you over his shoulder, trying to gauge your interest, then turning back to his niece. “But do you remember what I told you?”

You could see that Mary was making a conscious effort not to roll her eyes. “You told me that my adult friends have adult lives that include adult responsibilities, and they might not always be available to spend time with me.”

“And?” he looked at her expectantly.

“And I need to invite them to do things without assuming they will do them.” She couldn’t hold back her eye roll any longer, but she made sure not to let Frank see. “Roberta, Y/N, would you both like to join us on the boat today?”

You were amazed by the exchange taking place in front of you, able to see where some of Mary’s brains and tenacity came from. The conversation between the two flowed so easily, playful yet intelligent. It was clear that Frank treated Mary not as a child, but as a person, and you chided yourself internally for thinking that was kinda hot. 

Shaking yourself out of your mildly inappropriate thoughts, you responded. “I’d love to come, Mary.” You smiled at her, bending over to help her pick up the last of the paints from the floor. “Roberta?”

Roberta gave you a look and you just knew she planned this somehow. “I actually do have some of those adult responsibilities to handle today, but thank you for inviting me.” You sent a glare in her direction, quick but no less scathing. “Maybe next time.” She winked at you before washing out her mug and saying her goodbyes.

You spent the whole rest of the day and night with Frank and Mary, doing everything from building sandcastles to cooking dinner together. Mary eventually fell asleep in your lap as you were watching Oliver & Company, Frank’s favorite Disney film that had become Mary’s, too. “An underrated classic,” they told you in unison.

You helped Frank put Mary to bed, a task made easier after such a tiring day. “I guess I should get going.” You stood awkwardly in the small kitchen, unsure of yourself and painfully aware of how close your hand was to Frank’s resting on the counter.

“Yeah, I have a job early in the morning.” He looked down at his shoes, unable to look you in the eye, and you wondered if he hadn’t found your company as enjoyable as you’d found his.

“Listen, I don’t know if you’ve been to Ferg’s? The little bar down the road? I go every Friday night just to relax and have a few beers. Maybe you’d like to come with me next weekend?”

Is he asking me on a date? You could feel your heartbeat racing. The look on your face must not have matched the excitement you felt at the prospect of spending time alone with the dreamy, kind, sarcastic man in front of you. 

He felt like an idiot when you hesitated to answer. He clearly read everything wrong. He had to fix this. “It’s a good place to meet people, you know? I know you’re fairly new to the area, so if you’re looking for more local friends, it’s a good place to start.” He winced, hoping you couldn’t sense his embarrassment at thinking that you would want to go on a date with him.

You swallowed, trying not to let your disappointment show outwardly. Of course he’s not interested in me. Stupid. “Oh, yeah! That would be great, Frank. What time?”

Frank let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, relieved that you didn’t seem offended by his offer. “How’s 7? I’ll pick you up? We can walk over together.”

And that’s how Fridays came to mean so much to you. Almost every Friday for the last six months, Frank met you at your door and you walked to Ferg’s together. Frank told you it would be a good place to make new friends, but you paid no mind to the other patrons. You only had eyes for each other, yet neither of you could see it, even though Roberta pointed out (repeatedly) that neither of you had taken anyone else home in all that time.

The more time you spent with Frank, the more certain you were that God was real and your life was His favorite trainwreck reality TV series. Even if you could have customized a dream man Build-A-Bear style, Frank still would blow your creation out of the water. He was smart and funny, not to mention an adoring parent to Mary, to whom you grew more attached each day. He was kind and thoughtful, talented and hard-working. Although he was a grouch, as Mary would say, he always was sweet to you. He took a genuine interest in anything you had to say, whether you were venting about work or filling him on the latest episode of whatever show you were binging. He was ridiculously sexy without even trying. All those hours he spent doing manual labor in the sun did wonders for his physique. You’d only seen him completely shirtless on one occasion, and the image of him with sweat dripping down his chest was burned into your memory, fueling your late-night thots and causing you to break out your vibrator on what was now a regular basis.

Six months had come and gone in the blink of an eye, and you’d begun to accept that Frank didn’t want to be anything more than friends with you. You decided tonight was as good a night as any to talk to someone new, to start letting go of your unrequited feelings. 

You swapped out your usual jeans for a sundress, t-shirt bra for a push-up, and lip balm for lipstick. Putting your phone and some cash in a wristlet, you considered wearing your new strappy sandals. The walk to Ferg’s was about five minutes each way down a sandy road, though, and memories of the sticky floor inside aided your preferred pair of Converse in their victory for the night. 

Just as you finished tying your shoes, you heard a knock at the door. You adjusted your cleavage and fluffed your hair a final time with one last look in the mirror. Here goes.

Frank felt like he had the wind knocked out of him in the best possible way. He suddenly felt entirely underdressed in his aloha shirt, even though it was his go-to for nights out of the house. He’d never seen you dressed so nicely when you weren’t going to work. 

You were the kind of beautiful that didn’t require makeup. Your natural hair always framed your face perfectly, even if you didn’t think so. He thought you were adorable when you were concentrating on something, blowing your hair out of your face with a huff. Visions of your soft curves made their way into Frank’s dreams on more than one occasion. He had seen you in your swimsuit several times, sunbathing with Roberta and swimming with Mary at the beach. It wasn’t even all that revealing, but it accentuated your figure in ways that forced Frank into needing a cold shower or two. Above all, though, he admired your heart. You’d allowed Mary into your life without hesitation, spending time with her because you wanted to and allowing her to ask all those questions that Frank just wouldn’t be able to answer. It killed him that you didn’t see him the way he saw you, a perfect partner for him and a worthy maternal figure for Mary.

“Frank? You okay?” Your concerned voice shook him out of his thoughts, prompting him to close his mouth which apparently had opened wide in astonishment when you stood in the doorway.

“Yeah, um... You look…” He looked a little confused, his brow furrowed and lips pursed. “Why are you all dolled up? It’s only Ferg’s.” He wished he could’ve kicked himself in the teeth when your face fell at his question. He rubbed a hand over his face. “Shit. Let me try that again,” he nearly begged, running up to you to stop you from going back inside. “You look really nice, honey.” He ran his calloused hand up your forearm, but quickly returned it to his side when he realized what he’d done. “Is it a special occasion, though? Should I change?”

You gave him a watery smile, given that you were three seconds from slamming the door in his face and crying. “That’s better. Thank you.” You lightly pushed at his shoulder, trying and failing to ignore the electricity you felt at the contact. “No occasion, though. Just thought maybe it was about time I actually introduced myself to someone new.” 

You couldn’t quite read his reaction. Little did you know he was certain he just felt his heart physically crack in his chest. “What do you mean?”

The two of you started walking, the tension between you thickening the very air you breathed. “Well, when you first invited me to Ferg’s, you said maybe I’d get to know some other people in the area, right? But we’re always with each other. I’m sure you’re itching to talk to someone other than me. I don’t want to hold you back.”

“Ah. Gotcha.” Frank abruptly reverted to the quiet, distant state he usually occupied before he met you. He sped up a bit, walking ahead of you and desperately attempting to school his features before you caught up with him.

Frank practically ran to the restroom, not slowing down even to hold the door open for you. You took a deep breath and rolled your shoulders, relaxing before entering the bar. Normally, whoever made it first would order drinks for you both, but Frank made it painfully clear that he had no desire to be in your company tonight. You ordered your usual, an Angry Orchard with a shot of Fireball in a tall glass. The combination tasted like apple cider, but the burn in your throat was caused by liquor rather than heat. It was strong enough to get you buzzed, but not so strong that you’d be stumbling home. You swallowed half the glass in one gulp, wanting to feel the warmth in your veins boosting your confidence as quickly as possible.

“Y/N? How are you?” You turned around, eyes meeting those of Jamie, your coworker. He leaned in for a hug and you accepted somewhat reluctantly, having interacted with him only in passing.

“Hey! I’m all right. What’s up?” You smiled at him, taking another sip of your drink. Jamie was not very subtly staring at your chest. You weren’t crazy about him, but the attention felt nice, so you allowed it.

“Not much. Just happy it’s Friday, ya know?” He looked around for a moment before returning his attention to you. “You’re usually here with that mechanic dude, right?”

You stifled a laugh thinking about how Frank would react if he heard himself referred to as “dude” by this prick. “Yeah, he’s around somewhere. We’re just-“

“-Just friends?” he finished for you with a hopeful look.

You nodded in response, looking him up and down. He was no Frank, but you couldn’t deny he was handsome. It had been so long since you’d even been kissed, and though you hated to admit it, you were touch-starved. One night couldn’t hurt, could it?

Meanwhile, Frank was splashing his face with cool water. He couldn’t believe he’d fucked up so royally. He was sure you didn’t want him how he wanted you, and now he was sure it was too late to tell you how he really felt.

He knew from the moment he saw you that he’d never get you out of his head. Roberta had been talking you up to Frank for weeks, but he wanted no part of it, mumbling something about there being “a reason why no one used matchmakers anymore.” He had no choice but to make your acquaintance when he was looking for Mary, and he’d never been so happy that Roberta could say she told him so.

Later that day at the beach, Mary approached him while you were dozing on a towel in the sand. She sat on his lap and reached for his face, using her pointer fingers to turn the straight line of his mouth up into a smile. “Roberta says you have a ‘charming’ smile, Frank. We think you should use it more.” He chuckled quietly, careful not to disturb you, and pulled Mary in close, planting a wet kiss on her cheek. She grimaced at the feeling, dramatically wiping at her face until he let her go back to reading with Fred.

The sound of the jukebox starting up cut short his reverie. He had to get out there and explain himself. Frank dried his face and hands with a paper towel before smacking his cheeks and stretching his neck back and forth to each shoulder. 

Frank exited the restroom only to find some douchebag staring at your ass as you leaned over toward the bar. He saw red when the piece of shit held out his hand behind his back while his friend slipped a twenty-dollar bill into it, seemingly winning some sort of bet.

Jamie didn’t stand a chance when Frank stormed in between the two of you. “That’s IT,” he yelled, so intense he borderline bellowed. He threw whatever cash he had in his pocket on the bar to pay for your drinks before he pulled you outside, almost getting to your door while you fought against his grip. He only stopped when you spun your body around like something out of Dancing with the Stars and jumped in front of him, forcing him to catch you.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N, what are y-”

“-What are YOU doing, Frank? What the fuck was that?” You put your feet back down on the ground but remained facing him, arms crossed over your chest.

He groaned in frustration, suddenly realizing he actually had no clue how to respond. “Fuck.”

You looked at him, tapping your foot in anticipation.

“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.” He rubbed at his temples in the way he did when he felt a headache coming on.

“And how was he looking at me, Frank? What does it matter to you?”

“He was looking at you like you were a piece of meat and I… FUCK!”

You both turned when your neighbor opened his window. “Can you kids keep it down out here?”

You waved bashfully at the old man. “Sorry, Mr. Parker,” you said in unison.

“Come inside, Frankie.” The nickname that typically made him roll his eyes at you never had sounded sweeter, now that its use confirmed you didn’t hate him for the scene he made. You both toed off your shoes at the door before you made your way into the living room, motioning for him to sit next to you on the couch when he tried to sit in the armchair across the room.

You leaned forward, pinching his chin between your thumb and forefinger. “Now what’s going on in that sun-damaged brain of yours?”

He let out a laugh so soft you almost missed it, but you were glad you didn’t. Sitting back against the arm of the couch, you pulled a pillow into your lap and hugged it, giving Frank your full attention.

Frank cleared his throat, doing his best to accept that it was now or never. “That guy was leering at you, and it pissed me off. You deserve better, Y/N.” He pried your fingers from where they were locked around the pillow to hold your hands in his.

“If you want to meet new people, that’s great. If you don’t want to be with me, that’s a little less great, but I’d understand. He didn’t even pay for your drinks. And I th-”

You covered his mouth with one of your hands, and he knitted his brows in confusion. “You’re making it sound like it’s an option to be with you.” You were in disbelief, side-eyeing him, waiting for Ashton Kutcher to announce that you were, in fact, being Punk’d. 

The corners of his mouth lifted into the soft smile he reserved for you. It was the same one he gave you whether you were on a tangent about how “Obsessed” by Mariah Carey is “the single greatest diss track of all time” or you were helping Mary put a harness and leash on Fred “just to see how he’d do” on a walk.

“For a distinguished professor, you’re kind of a dummy, Frank.” You took his face in your hands, thrilled to be feeling his stubble against your palms. Before he could talk back to you, you kissed him, unsure how you denied yourselves such a simple yet extraordinary pleasure for so long. It only took a moment for him to relax into it, his hands removing the pillow between you before finding your waist and pulling you almost into his lap.

You deepened the kiss, threading your fingers through his hair. He pulled away first, pressing his forehead to yours. “Seems like we’re both dummies, huh?” 

You were going to ask why pulled away until you looked down to see a considerable tent forming in the front of his jeans. You laughed as he pulled you into a tight hug, one arm wrapped around you while the other hand held your face against his neck.

You kissed the side of his neck softly before leaning back to look at him. “All this time? I thought you didn’t see me this way.” You held his face, stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. “You asked me to go to Ferg’s and then said I could meet other people, so I thought that was it, you know?”

He covered your hands with his and pecked your lips softly. “Honey, I thought it was the other way around. I was trying to ask you out and you looked like you’d seen a ghost.” You giggled, spluttering a bit because tears had started falling at some point. He wiped your tears away before swiping his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down a bit. “We’re fools, aren’t we?”

You nodded slowly and Frank saw something wicked flash in your eyes before you took his thumb in your mouth, sucking lightly. “Jesus, honey.” His length hardened underneath you and you could feel the wetness beginning to pool in your panties, prompting you to grind down into his lap.

You released his thumb from your mouth, pressing your chest into his before kissing him again. “I think we’re only fools if we don’t take advantage of the rest of your adult time.” You removed your dress easily, returning your hands to Frank’s shoulders to push off his shirt.

He surged forward to kiss you again, working magic with his tongue against yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he picked you up, walking you into the bedroom. Placing you on the bed carefully, he removed your bra and panties before pulling off his boxers and jeans in one go. You thought you wanted him before, but now that you could see everything he’d been hiding under his baggy clothes, you didn’t see how you could ever let him leave your bedroom.

The next few minutes were spent exploring each other’s mouths while Frank stretched you with his fingers. You didn’t think you’d ever been so wet in your life and thought you might pass out if you didn’t feel him inside you immediately. You gave his cock a few strokes before sliding his head through your folds, coating him in your slick.

“Waitwaitwait, honey. Do you have a condom?”

“You don’t need one if you don’t want one. It’s okay.”

He looked like you just gave him tomorrow’s winning lotto numbers, taking a deep breath to steady himself before he looked at you again. “Oh, God. Are you sure?”

“Mhm. I wanna feel you. Make me yours?”

“Anything you want, honey, but if you change your mind, just tell me, okay?” He lined himself up, seconds shy of entering you for the first time.

“I figured if you were gonna be possessive of me tonight, you might as well take it the whole nine, Frankie.” You laughed as he let out an exasperated sigh. “Seriously, though, I’m clean, I’m on the pill, and I’ve wanted you for a long time.” You reached up to scratch lightly through his chest hair.

“The only thing I wanna hear right now is you moaning for me.” He drove into you harshly, but waited a moment for you to adjust once he was seated to the hilt. “So damn wet and tight for me, honey. You’re so perfect, so beautiful.” He kissed you again before he began to move, slowly but surely making you lose your mind.

He dipped his head down to take one nipple in his mouth, then the other, effectively shutting you up and emptying all thoughts from your head. He nipped at the swell of your breast, soothing the bite with his tongue. “Fuck, Frank, please!”

“Please what, honey?” He picked up his pace, fucking into you so vigorously you moved up the bed. “Tell me what you need.”

“Make me cum, Frank. Please, baby, I need it. Need you,” you cried, leaning up to bite into his shoulder, stifling your moans.

“I wanna hear you, Y/N. I wanna hear those pretty moans while I’m making this perfect pussy cum for me.” The combination of his filthy words and the sight of him sucking on his own fingers before rubbing at your clit sent you over the edge, making you scream his name over and over again for what felt like forever and not long enough.

You could tell he was close, his hips stuttering and losing their rhythm. He began to pull out, unsure if you were willing to let him finish inside you, but knowing he was too close to wait for an answer.

You hooked your legs around his waist and pulled him close, pushing him back into you. “Fill me up, Frank. I wanna feel all of you. Please give it to me,” you whimpered. His release triggered another for you, chanting each other’s names surely loud enough for the neighbors to hear. 

He stayed inside you as you both came down from your shared high, gingerly flipping you over so he laid on his back with you on his chest. He kissed the top of your head, fingers fluttering up and down your sides. 

“What’s on your mind now, Frankie?” You looked up at him through your lashes, mildly terrified of the answer.

He looked down at you with the most adoration you’d ever seen, lifting your chin so your eyes met his in the moonlight. “That wasn’t too soon, was it? You mean so much to me and to Mary. I don’t wanna mess this up. I don’t ever wanna hurt you. You’re the best thing in my life besides Mary, you know that?”

You kissed his chest before looking back up at him, smiling. “First of all, I would argue that wasn’t soon enough.” He hissed as you clenched around his still softening cock inside you.

“You’re evil.”

Winking at him, you continued tracing patterns on his chest with your fingers. “Second, that all kinda sounds like you might be in love with me, Frank Adler.”

His hands stopped moving for a second before he responded. “Would you run away if I said I am?”

“Well, I wouldn’t run away. This is my house.” You thought your heart might explode in your chest.

“I didn’t even say it, but I take it back,” he huffed, throwing his arm over his eyes.

“What if I told you I felt the same way?”

He grinned, sitting up to kiss you feverishly on your cheeks, the tip of your nose, and finally your lips. You could feel him starting to harden again inside you, leading to round two of… well, you lost count.

You ate breakfast and showered together in time for Frank to return home before Mary did, agreeing to talk more later and to hold out on Roberta for a while.

Frank stood on your doorstep, leaning in to kiss you once more. All of a sudden, you heard a familiar meow and thanked God you were dressed and not in your robe.

“Frank, what are you doing here? I thought I’d come see Y/N since I’m not supposed to come home until noon.”

You bit your tongue to keep from cackling. Frank ran a hand over his face, his blissful bubble burst. He was getting you a hotel room next weekend.