#it was fixed quickly enough that it might actually be the latter

[supernatural-bias]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐓𝐨 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ includes: sodapop, ponyboy, johnny cade, and dallas winston

↳ warnings: mentions of being beaten up, various injuries, and angst. no actual description of being jumped

↳ notes: could be interpreted as romantic or platonic. had trouble trying to nail all of them down, so i hope i did them justice. reblogs and comments and greatly appreciated

↳ song: blue moon (take five)—elvis presely

masterlist | commissions | carrd

𝐒𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐩

• It's mid-day when he stumbles in from a long morning of working on cars down at the DX with Steve. Grease is all along the skin of his hands, and a different kind can be seen slicking back his hair, but that's nothing a hot shower can't fix

• He was on his way to do just that, enjoying the for once empty house as he did so, only to stop dead in his tracks when he saw you splayed out on the couch

• You were so still his first thought was that you were taking a nap. But once Soda looked closer, he quickly realized you were doing anything but sleeping

• "Hey there Soda." You slurred with a careless grin, elevating your head the best you could to keep blood from dripping into your eye; the likes of which was already beginning to swell an angry red color

• It was clear to Soda what had happened. Everyone in the gang had been jumped once or twice, the more minor ones resulting in a fist fight or two while the bigger fights ended up with scars like Johnny had, and he could tell this was one of the latter

• "Good glory."

• Soda immediately dropped everything to take care of you. Or, when you wouldn't let him fuss over you, insisting you were fine (you were not), he goes out of his way to keep an eye on you. The only times he leaves your side on the couch is to bring you some rubbing alcohol and a bandage for the open wounds

• Turns into such a mother hen. Even after getting a closer look at your injuries, which turned out to be less troubling than he had expected, he still refuses to leave you alone

• "What were you doing walking in that part of town?" He throws his hands in the air as you finally explained where you'd gotten jumped. "You know we ain't liked much there, man."

• You grunted with a mix of pain and annoyance as you sat yourself up more. "Yeah, well I wasn't exactly expecting to get jumped in broad daylight on a public street now, was I?"

• He supposes that's a fair point, but won't admit it. Especially not while your skin is turning various shades of the rainbow

• After that day he always makes sure to remind you not to walk anywhere soc's are known to hang. It even goes as far as him suggesting he could draw you a map, to which you respond by reminding him that you'd lived here just as long as he had and could walk by yourself thank you very much

• "At least make sure you carry a blade or something, yeah?" He practically begs you, all the while staring at the small scar that swiped across the beginning of your hairline. A memory of when you had been stupid enough to get into a fight you knew you wouldn't win

• "Yeah yeah whatever Soda." You puff, promising him that if anything like that ever happens again you won't hesitate to call him or one of the other guys

• He might be a bit overbearing, but by god does Soda love you, so don't you go getting beat up on now

𝐏𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐲

• This was before he had gotten tag teamed on the way back from the movies, so frankly, when Ponyboy finds you leaning against a brick wall downtown with your head all but limp against it, he thinks he's found a dead body

• Pony is just about to nervously pass it when he notices your shoes—the exact same type he'd seen you wearing the last time you'd met up with him

• Has no idea what to do at first. He'd never seen anyone other than Johnny look like this after getting jumped, and the other boy had been crying. You were just laying there. He supposed that if he had been you, he would have been hollering for his brothers by now

• Doesn't freak out. That's not in his nature. Instead, Pony kind of just stares at you for a moment before walking over and shaking you. Perhaps with a bit more force than nessicary

• Despite his gift with words, Pony couldn't describe the relief that washed over him when he opened his eyes even if he wanted to

• "What happened?" He says your name with an underlying quiver to it, eyes darting around your shoulders as he looks at bruises and cuts. Nothing serious he hopes, but it's hard to tell in the moonlight. If he squints his eyes hard enough, he thinks he sees purple marks in the shape of fingers around your neck

• Sure enough, when you speak your voice is a little wheezey

• "What does it look like?" You cough, throwing your head back against the wall with enough effort that Pony hears a crack. "Owch. Forgot that was there."

• He isn't sure if your asking him about your face, or talking about the brick wall. Either way he wouldn't know what to say, so he just responds by standing up and bringing you with him

• Ponyboy feels about as young as he looks when the two of you first start walking down the dimly lit streets, but by the time he's close enough to see the lights of his house, he swears to himself that his muscles would've given out if the walk had been another block longer

• His brothers, and whoever else happens to be over at the house at the time, mostly take over once he manages to pry the screen door open with his free hand and toss you inside. Pony stands by as they make sure you'll be okay, occasionally making use of his hands by bringing you water or disinfectant

• He tries to skip school the next day to stay home with you and make sure you sleep alright, but is sent off anyways when Darry vetos that idea before he could even fully suggest it

• He's real eager to get home all through the school day, and is glad when he walks in on you sitting in his kitchen that afternoon, rubbing at the spots on your neck as you eat a meal Darry managed to scrounge up for you

• Let's just say Pony is always the first to ask you to be safe when you go out alone after that

𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐧𝐲

• If this is Johnny before he himself gets jumped, then you're getting a very concerned friend questioning you in a soft voice as he tries not to look at your injuries too much. He knows that he hates it when people stare at him after his dad hits him, so he attempts to offer you the curtosy he never got

• Post beaten Johnny though? He's a nervous wreck

• It's even worse if he finds you before you find him. His first thought is that the people that did this to you might still be around, and he's ashamed of himself for wanting to run away. Later when he confesses that train of thought to you, you reassure him he's fine and that anyone would have done the same thing, but he still gets an icky feeling in his gut anytime he thinks about it

• Assuming that you manage to stumble upon him first though, Johnny knows what to do and how to do it. It's almost sad that he knows the exact way to deal with a situation with this, but seeing as it happened to him not too long ago, it's not exactly a surprise

• He can't stop himself for looking for signs of ring indents on your face as he wipes blood off your face with shakey hands. His gaze is so intense that even through the pounding in your head you can tell what Johnny's thinking

• "It wasn't the same guys." You croak out. Johnny is momentarily startled at your words and turns as if to move away before hesitantly returning to the task at hand

• "Oh." His voice cracks. "Good."

• After making sure you're no longer bleeding, or at the very least hurting with every breath you take, he calls Ponyboy up first thing. It's the only other person he immediately thought of in the moment, and can't remember a time that he was more greatful then when Pony shows up to help him

• The two boys eventually tell everyone else, but that night Johnny relived every bad moment he's ever experienced all in one, and doesn't know that he'd have been able to deal with that if Pony or you hadn't been there; even if you were beaten black and blue

• Sometime later Johnny realizes that he'd been jumping at little things less and less, and a small part of him wonders if going through that with you that one night helped him to overcome some of his own fears. Even if by a little bit

• The thought it is comforting

𝐃𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐬

• Red light filtered through the bar windows as you stumbled up rickety steps to knock on an equally as rickety door

• Your teeth chattered in the night despite it being in the middle of summer, mustering the most genuine smile you could as the entrance eventually opened

• "Dallas here?" You asked the man in the door with a poorly disguised groan

• Whatever would have happened next was promptly cut short at you felt your throat tighten. With a lurch in both your stoumach and your body, you leaned forward to vomit straight on Buck Merril's boots

• "Urgh. Oops."

• Buck didn't even bother to growl at you or go look for Dallas before snatching you inside. If it had been a busier night, or if he had liked those boots more, he might have done either of those things. Or just straight up left you to sit on that doorstep until morning

• But Buck knew just by looking at you that you were in no condition to be left alone, and that Dallas would kill him if one of his friends died on his doorstep

• The bartender forwent knocking on Dallas' door before busting it open. He only had time to hope that his friend wasn't hooking up with anyone before stomping in, your dazed figure trailing behind him

• Thankfully it was just Dallas in the room. Just a pissed, shirtless looking Dallas. The way he shot up from in his bed made Buck think he had been trying to get some sleep and failing

• "They showed up looking for you. Let me know if you need to phone the hospital." He mummbled before slamming the door on the way out. Dallas barely had time to ask what in the fuck he was talking about before you planted face first on the foot of his bed

• Later he would be annoyed that you got bloodstains all over his sheets, but in the moment he was more focused on your ripped clothes and skin littered with flecks of glass and gravel

• "Got any bandaids Dally?" You ask with a dry tone, the joke falling flat at he threw the covers off of himself. Part of them landed on your head over at the other end of the bed, and he rushed to move then away

• "Shit— uh, hold on." Was all he could manage. You took it upon yourself to cautiously crawl up against the wall, mindful of the way your body screamed at you to stop as you did so

• Dallas finished russeling through one of his dresser drawers— the very same one that he would later go through to give Ponyboy and Johnny his gun after their late night misshap —coming back to you with a sunbleached cloth in hand and some pills

• "Hold that wherever its bleeding the most." He said gruffly. "And take these."

• "What are they?" You swallowed them without waiting for his answer

• "Hangover pills. The only sort of medicine Buck has here that isn't white and powdery." Dally leaned far back from you for a moment to scan your available skin, eyes lingering on the way you winced everytime your stoumach moved in the slightest

• "Got me there the worst." You noticed his looks and chose to talk through your urge to hurl again. "Still feels like the winds been kicked out of me."

• "Soc's?" Is all he asks

• You shake your head. "No. Some other greasers. Picked a fight with them last week. I won and forgot all about it. Didn't realize that they were that ticked off about it."

• Dallas resisted the urge to scoff at you, and it must have shown on his face; if the way you laughed said anything

• "Glory Dallas Winston, can you judge me later when I'm not bleeding all across your buddies floor?"

• "Sure sure." He waved, eyebrows furrowing

• He finds himself wishing later that you had gone to Darry or even Steve for help with this stuff. He isn't the best at dressing wounds, even if he's had lots of practice on himself, and knows better than most that his bedside manner isn't exactly the best. When you're not wincing or dry heaving in a bout of pain, the two of you are bickering

• "Anymore tighter, and my fingers will be likely to fall off, Dal." You gripe at him as he wraps a bandage around your knuckles with an air of carelessness, even if he was feeling anything but that

• "Shut up."

• For the love of everything good don't ever do this to him again. Dallas has no idea how to be soft with people, and he isn't sure offering you a cigarette right after disinfecting your wounds is the best way to go about it

• You accept the unusual gift anyways, shaking your head with a smile as you do so

[edutainer2022]

An unassuming coincidence on a Friday night leads to an unforeseen chain of events. Jeff Tracy is badass. Teen Scott doesn't always follow Dad's orders to the letter. A kidnapping goes wrong. And I'm always intrigued by TAG Jeff up and packing his young sons into increasingly remote locations.

Many thanks to @janetm74 , as ever, for kind support!

ERGO PROPTER HOC

In hindsight, so many things aligned that day that normally wouldn't. His late evening conference call with the GDF Headquarters in a different time zone got rescheduled because of, ironically enough, a storm raging through Central Europe, that demanded consolidation of rescue and dispatch efforts. So that would mean he'd be home before his sons' bedtime (not that the elder three still pretended having one), for once. On a Friday. His mind drew a rather shameful blank, trying to remember the respective school and club schedules. Scott had been juggling the pick-ups and so much more since... well, for far too long.

Anyway, a call from his eldest's basketball coach settled the score - the boy sprained a wrist early into practice. The coach was following protocol and was more comfortable with sending Scott out to the hospital for a proper X-ray. Jeff's eldest son would never have called him at work if he could help it - unlike the father, he actually did remember the agenda for the week, and A LOT was riding on that GDF call. But the coach likely wanted to avoid liability for delay. It was too soon to break the practice up or to let Scott sit it out with an ice-pack and then bum a ride from one of his friends (or bargain with them to skip hospital altogether and give him a ride home, more like). The coach also wouldn't hand Jeff's underage son over to a stranger, a status in the Tracy wider social circle Kyrano was vehement to maintain. Anyhow, the stars aligned so that Jeff was available (and quite a bit worried by the time he got there). Which might have bumped the stars some more into giving him a flat tire.

They ended up taking Scott's car to save time, Jeff driving. The trip proved a breezy affair as there was no damage beyond a sprain. Nothing a brace, some cold, Ibuprofen and rest couldn't fix. Jeff saw how the latter might prove a problem, though, with the three year old Allie practically living in Scott's arms. But that was to be a problem for Dad Jeff to deal with later that evening. In the meantime, they had some much overdue quality time one on one, complete with some take-away burgers and a backseat full of stacked pizzas and other delicious goodies for the all-boys movie night at home.

Jeff's enjoyment of the afternoon was slightly marred by Scott apologizing up, down and backwards for interrupting Dad's workday. That, and the boy being obviously in more pain than he let on. But that too was an issue for Dad Jeff to tackle later. For the time being he let himself enjoy his eldest son's company.

***

The drive back to the farm was to be swift and uneventful. He could see Scott, paler than Jeff was strictly happy about, fighting off fatigue, and wondered if the movie night would quickly turn into a puppy pile sleepover. That thought might have twitched annoyance in his gut as he saw a two-car crash ahead, blocking an otherwise empty road. He didn't want any delays on the way to spend a Friday night with his kids.

Jeff was used to trusting his gut. It got him through tight fixes in a war, out in space, all the way on friggin' Mars. It helped him navigate the World Council and GDF convoluted politicking, and the cut-throat business scene. So now, when one of the drivers, engrossed in dispute, looked up at their approaching car - Scott's car - Jeff's gut was blaring a red alert.

An imperceptible shift in stance to reach for the weapons, the cold glimmer in the eyes, the vaguely familiar faces of Gaat's "assistants" launched Jeff's mind into a breakneck tumble. He assessed the situation and weighed the options. From the passenger seat big blue eyes were glancing up at him in worry as Dad's hands tightened at the wheel, his face momentarily hardened. Jeff made a move for the glove compartment, then remembered they were in Scott's car. No gun! The curse that followed had the blue eyes dilate wider, startled. He was scaring his son, which entirely defeated the purpose. Okay, new plan! The seatbelt clicked off.

"Bluejay! I need you to take the wheel now! Don't stop, drive off! Tell Kyrano to get you and the boys away at once! He'll know what to do!"

"Dad!!!"

The face of his young self was sheet white now, bright blue almost black with disbelief.

"Dad! What are you gonna do?! I CAN'T LEAVE YOU HERE! Dad, what's wrong!?!!"

They were approaching fast, he didn't take the foot off the pedal, hoping to give Scott momentum. And a chance to flee. The goons on the road were openly smirking now. He could see the sunset bounce off one of the gun barrels.

"I need you to do exactly as I say, son! It's an order! Don't stop, don't look back! GO!"

He didn't have time to placate a frightened child, even if the last thing he would see in life would be the horrified features of his son. He could think of worse ways to go. Smaller shaking hands, one in a brace, clasped the wheel. He knew Lord Hugh's "multitalanted valet" had taught Scott extreme driving, so he ought not to doubt the boy's ability to speed through. With one parting glance he opened the door and jumped, aiming to tackle one of the henchmen to the ground.

***

Whoever his erstwhile friend sent out, were certainly not expecting a combat hardened veteran with rigorous astronaut training under his belt. Nor a father determined to protect the most precious with his life. It nearly came down to that too, as they were no amateurs either. But they definitely didn't expect Belah Gaat's brother, skidding into the fray in Jeff's farm truck. Jeff didn't anticipate Kyrano as well, but couldn't turn down the much needed help. On second thought, it didn't surprise him Scott obviously disobeyed his order. The realization didn't add to his piece of mind one bit.

Leaving Kyrano to deal with the henchmen and with the police (in whichever order he saw fit), Jeff, though visibly worse for the wear, vehemently shot down the suggestion to wait to pop into a hospital and floored it home in the truck. He needed to hold his kids!

***

The house was dark and quiet to the point it seemed empty. Jeff could feel this heart pounding as he checked the sitting room, kitchen, the boys' bedrooms up on the second floor, and even the attic. Scott's car was haphazardly parked on the driveway, so they didn't leave. Logically, Jeff knew the kids could be hiding somewhere on the farm property, while Kyrano was dispatched to help him in a fix. There were no signs of struggle anywhere in the house. But logic eschewed his rational thinking till he hadn't spotted his sons - safe and sound. Jeff was about ready to expand the search perimeter to the barn, when he noticed the basement door locked. After the TV-21 sabotage and Belah's thinly veiled threats, the hurricane shelter was transformed into a fully stocked panic room, complete with a touch pad lock. Jeff promptly ran the scanner and made his way down an equally dark stairway. On his last steps down he was momentarily blinded by a flash of light. His eyes adjusted to a siluette of Scott, clutching the gun, usually stashed in a coded safe. The boy was visibly trembling, but held the weapon steady, level with Jeff's torso - the wrist in a brace supported by the uninjured hand. The flash of light couldn't hide the pallor and the thin line of Scott's lips, pursed tight against the pain. The other boys were huddled behind him - John and Virgil hugging the Tinies between them. John was brandishing a torch.

"Put the gun down, son! It's Dad!"

It took a moment for the scared minds to process his words and for the eyes to adjust and identify the intruder.

He let the breath out only having removed the gun from Scott's grasp and tucked it securely out of reach, once the safety clicked back on. The next instant the eldest boy nearly collapsed into him and he had his arms full all five sons. The ribs that took a significant battering protested, but Jeff didn't care. He took his time liberally distributing soothing hugs and kisses over each and every mop of hair. His face was a mess of cuts and bruises as well, but that would have to wait. He needed to feel his boys breathing, warm and alive, and close to him.

That day indeed ended in a puppy pile, albeit not the way anybody expected. He left the in the basement for the night - for his own peace of mind. He kept the gun tucked into his belt - for the same reason.

Once the boys settled down into uneasy sleep, including little Allie bursting into tears and Scott persuaded to take another painkiller, Jeff did another round of kisses on assorted brows, noses and temples, and made his way back up to the kitchen, trying not to wake them up with his own grunts. He needed to see about those injuries, finally. Gaat's crooks did a number on him.

He probably should have known better than to sneak away from his eldest. Sure enough, light steps soon followed him into the kitchen. Scott slipped from the basement and made a beeline to the medical cabinet. The movements of a slender teen's figure were sure even by the moonlight. Nible hands produced gauze, antiseptic cream, and cold packs with practiced precision. The boy's face was serious and wrought with concern. At some point the shadows shifted and Jeff nearly swayed on his perch by the kitchen isle - he had to blink hard, twice, to let the gossamer vision pass.

"How did you get the gun, Bluejay?"

Scott froze midstep to soak a clean washcloth for Dad's gushes. Jeff mentally kicked himself. That was relatively far removed on his priority list at the moment!

Angular shoulders, still in the team jersey, shrugged.

"John hacked the safe code way back - we needed Allie's birth certificate for daycare."

Jeff had to brace himself on the edge of the counter not to keel over and keen, like a kicked dog. Ashamed.

The boy shifted from foot to foot and visibly braced himself, ready for a reprimand. When he turned back to Jeff, blue eyes were silver with tears.

"Are you mad at me, Dad? I couldn't just leave you there!"

How could he be? The boy's disobedience and quick thinking, ultimately, saved his life. He beaconed Scott closer and draped an arm around the still bony frame.

"I know, Bluejay! I'm not mad. I just need to be sure you'll follow my lead when it's about you and your brothers' safety, deal?"

"Yes, sir."

The answer was barely above whisper - the teen was still notably trembling, exhausted and anxious. Jeff sealed the deal with a kiss to the side of the boy's head and gave them both a moment, cheek resting on the disheveled curls. The kid was chasing him in height so fast.

Scott shifted away, startled by a sudden thought.

"Dad! How did they know you'd be driving!?"

They didn't. The roadblock trap was set up to kidnap a teenager, driving alone late. Terrified eyes searched his face for an answer his son had already figured out. He shifted to adjust the embrace tighter with both arms and guided the boy's head into the crook of his neck. The soft half-sob, half-gasp nearly tore Jeff apart. Come dawn, he'd need to make arrangements to relocate the boys far away. Kyrano and Hiram would help him turn Gran Roca into an impenetrable fortress. To begin with. He'd spare no effort to keep his sons safe.

[cafecourage]

Speaking of sleepy, caring for sleepy Chain

-Softie

We worked on this on stream long ago. I also made this also one bed. Part 1 has Time, Twilight, and Warriors

_____________

There was a common issue among some of the chain where most all of them have the fatal flaw of not being able to sleep. Some had issues waking up like Sky, Wind, Four and Wild. You quickly found that Legend was among that group but given the incident he went into the latter issue. Which was annoying when dealing with. It was completely opposite problems.

Time:

It was always hard to tell if the Old man was tired as he seemed to be always absolutely exhausted. Which was fair enough since he was dubbed the dad friend in the group thus making him the main person to go to for everything. It’s a wonder how he hasn’t just slept for 7 more years yet.

Still the Hero of Time was probably 3 days in without sleep and thats what you observed. Granted you should have stopped him by day 2. But you weren’t sure if he slept on the days you seen him take first shift and wake up with him being on last shift.

The other boy’s notice it too and while they all appreciate the extra sleep it’s unfair for Time. Warriors is typically the only one that speaks up about it since he isn’t phased by the Older Link’s tough exterior. While it would be embarrassing in hindsight you had to drag Warriors aside to push for you and Time to be in the same room. “I have a plan” is what you tell the captain not letting him know that you in fact, dont have a plan.

Truly the plan is fist fight the old man until he actually sleeps, or lecture him whatever you feel like. At least you will be here in town for a few days to gather supplies and information. So you can at least fix Time’s sleep schedule.

You’re plotting came to an extreme halt as you step into a room with one bed. “This can work.” You say out loud as you dropped your stuff in a corner of the room. “We can share the bed.” It’s not even up for debate at this point.

“Can we?” Time asks as he closes the door “wouldn’t that be uncomfortable?”

“Uncomfortable?” That wouldn’t be the word you would use. “Nah. Unless it makes you uncomfortable. Then I can take the floor.”

The hero gives you a look, one to even dare you to say that again. “If you don’t mind, then I don’t see why fight over it.”

“It I am being real.” You stand up and stretched “you do need it more.” It has been decided. You are lecturing him. “When is the last time you slept a full 8 hours? Heck 6 hours I would accept.”

An eyebrow was raised as he heads inside “I have been fine with the sleep I’ve been getting.” He takes his armor off putting each piece down carefully before finally sitting on the bed. He pats the spot next to him.

You follow his lead as you prepare a long argument. “Ah, yes the zero hou- Ack!” What you didn’t expect was Time to drag you into his lap and lay down.

Your face exploded in a blush as you were now basically his teddy bear. “Don’t you think I haven’t noticed you also have trouble sleeping.” He whispered as he was already in the process of wrapping the both of you in the blankets. “Let’s take a nap for now…”

Well… This backfired successfully.

Twilight:

Twilight was one of these Links which, made sense but also didn’t when you found this out. He tries to older brother everyone, he makes sure everyone is asleep before he does. Which takes forever to do and your patience for this man is thinning.

After stopping in a town from a long trek. The group decides to go to the Inn to set up shop. You were already on Twilight to take a nap before dinner. “No. We are going to eat in like 30 minutes.”

Ok.

No.

He isn’t getting out of this and you don’t care you’re in the middle of the lobby. There was something that the chain has yet to learn about you.

You might be short.

But you are strong.

So you marched up to Twilight and despite his struggling you throw the hero over your shoulder and went directly to the room angrily. “Let me down!” Twilight demands of you. However you couldn’t care about it as you open the door kick it close and threw him on the bed. “That was unnecessary.” He said getting up.

“It was very necessary!” You argued back crossing your arms. “When is the last time you properly slept?”

Twilight stays quiet and looks away. He looked like a kicked puppy. “I get enough.”

“According to who? Because everyone else can make an argument that you’re barely getting any to function.” You let out a huff as you should probably be more lenient with him because it’s not really like he is doing something bad. You know from experience that the body could function with little sleep if it’s used to it but it’s not healthy! You didn’t go through classes with a clear mind but you should have! “We are just worried about you.”

The Hero stays quiet but sighs “ok. I understand.” He seems to give up at this point. But he reaches out to take your hand finally letting himself looked exhausted “but… can you stay with me?”

Your eyes soften as he seemed to be more tired than you thought. “Of course I will. Someone has to make sure you stay put.” He teases you.

Warriors: 

After a long day of traveling an inn was a welcoming sight. Since there were ten of you now each room had to have 2 people. Which was sometimes unfortunate for some, but for you in this current moment?

You couldn’t ask for a better opportunity since you (forcably) asked to be Warrior’s pair, only to have there only be one bed. 

Perfect.

Wonderful.

Amazing.

It was instant that you had grabbed Warriors tunic and almost thrown him on to the bed. “Didn’t know you wanted me on the bed that badly, doll.” He was laughing. This man was laughing and he looked like hell. Probably felt like it too as the ever polished captain was showing dark circles under his eyes. His smile was sluggish and his eyes weren’t as sharp as they normally were.

“Very funny.” You rolled your eyes as you headed towards him again to help him out of his armor. “You should take better care of yourself. 3 days of barely any sleep? What were you thinking?!”

“That the other boys need some sleep.” There was no hesitation as the stubborn man is proud of himself for killing his sleep schedule. “It’s fine.” “It is not fine.” You didn’t mean to throw his shoulder plate on the carpet. “You better take your chainmail off before I do it for you.”

“What if I rather you do it for me?” The captain fire back without missing a beat. Instantly his face paled “wait-“

“Nope to late come here.” You take his tunic and just… thew it off of him. “Do you want to continue?” This was a threat.

“no…” Warriors voice was silent as he finally got out of what armor he had left. “I should sleep on the floo-“ that suggestion was instantly silent as you glared at him.

Finally when both of you were ready for bed you had put your self on top of him. Cuddling but also if he was going to escape he will have to wake you up first. “this is so you don’t escape.” You said.

“I wont. I wont.” Warriors was a bit hesitant to wrap his arms around you “Thank you.” He whispered as he finally started to relaxed.

“Don’t rely on me to fix your sleep habits.” You said poking his cheek “good night Captain.”

“Good Night Sweetheart.”

[weministertomonsters]

Taming Siberius

"Ahahaha!" Your best friend Elan is nearly falling on the ground as he laughs, clutching his stomach.

"Will you stop?" You huff. "This isn't funny."

"Are you seriously thinking about buying that?" He wheezes. "He looks like he wants to kill you."

"If you were stuck in a cage, I'm sure you'd be pissed off too," you reason, and peer at the demon.

He looks like a model fixed up for a fantasy photo shoot. But no cameras are flashing in this display window. The horns, the silvery skin, and the platinum hair are very real. The part of the eyes that would typically be white is gold instead, and he has no irises, only pupils that are huge and cat-like as he stares, unblinkingly at you.

And you look back at him long enough to realize he's not looking at you. He's staring at nothing. It's the sort of faraway gaze you can expect from someone who is in a place they don't belong. Your heart sinks a little but you're brought back to the present when Elan says,

"Resting bitch face," and tosses a handful of popcorn at the window.

You catch the exact moment the demon snaps out of it because you see his pupils shrink and sharpen as he looks at your friend. Damn, you'd hate to be on the receiving end of that look.

"How much did you drink?" You scowl. "I knew having a night out today was a bad idea."

"So what, my boyfriend ditched me. Big deal," Elan says, wobbling. "Who gives a shit about him?"

"Can you move?" An irritated voice calls out. "The last thing I want is a drunk teenager throwing up all over my display window."

"I will have you know I'm twenty-two!" Elan calls out. "I'm a responsible adult now."

"Uh-huh, sure," the shop owner says, entirely unconvinced of the latter. "Go and be responsible somewhere else."

"Actually, I was looking to make a purchase," you pipe up.

The shop owner brightens up. "Why didn't you say so earlier? Come on in. Leave your friend outside, they should get some fresh air."

"I'll be fine!" Elan says in a sing-song voice. "Go and get yourself a little pet."

You roll your eyes and step into the shop. You wince as the heavy scent of incense hits you.

"It's for the smell," the shop owner says. "Demons have a smell you know."

"Did I need to know that?" You muse.

"You want one, don't you? It's best to be aware of all the small details. Demons aren't like dogs, you can't just send them to the pound when you get tired of 'em."

The shop owner thunks a heavy catalog onto the table and says, "Before you ask, you can order them for a fee and get them delivered as well."

"I already know which one I want to get. The demon in the display window is on sale?"

"Lord yes, please take him!" The shopkeeper says quickly.

Of course, that immediately makes you suspicious. "Why?"

The shopkeeper clears their throat and says sheepishly, "He bites."

Your confused expression probably tells them all they need to know because they sigh.

"Hold on a minute, I'll fetch him so you can have a look."

You watch as they approach the brooding demon. You can tell the shopkeeper is afraid by the way they snatch the trailing leash off the floor. You're beginning to doubt your choice as he stands up, towering head and shoulders above the shopkeeper. This demon might be the figurative mastiff of the demon world. He follows the shopkeeper, but only because he wants to.

It looks like he's a little curious about you as well.

"Open your mouth," the shopkeeper orders.

The only two things keeping the shopkeeper alive at this point are the muzzle the demon is wearing and the taser the shopkeeper holds. You know for a fact that there's enough electricity in there to kill a horse. The demon glances down at the shopkeeper, seeming to bask in the way it makes them squirm. And then those golden eyes fall on you and the demon leans down until his face is level with yours. You have a pretty good view through the bars of the muzzle as he parts his lips in a sarcastic smile. The sheer amount of needle teeth bracketed by large canines weakens your knees.

"He's bitten people with those?" You gawk. "Are those people dead or missing limbs?"

"Not that I know," the shopkeeper says. "He only bites when you're rough with him."

"Promise I'll be nice," the demon says in a cavernous rasp that startles the shopkeeper as well as you.

"Since when could you speak English?" The shopkeeper says scathingly.

The demon clamps his teeth together and says nothing else, looking vaguely amused.

"Um, he might be a little too much for me," you tell the shopkeeper. "I want a bodyguard of sorts, not a murder machine."

"This is his last chance," the shopkeeper says. "Sure you don't want him? If not, he's going to the pits."

You wince at that. As scary as he looks, this demon is almost too beautiful to get messed up in the fighting pits. You hesitate and then ask,

"Can I have a trial run with him?"

"Up to a week," the shopkeeper says.

"Okay," you say. "I'll try him out."

─────────────── · · · · ✦

I keep trying to nail down this idea I have that monsters are treated as pets, toys, or "guard dogs" at best and slaves and gladiators and scum of the earth at worst. I can't get it exactly how I want and it's making me mad.

[vanmarkus]

Hi I'm back having now watched the episode and oh my god it has been a very very long time since an episode of TV made me this emotional - i don't cry in general but this came very *very* close. Also no one I know is watching it so I hope it's fine that I'm just ranting in your inbox XD

I know you said it was good and emotional and yet it was even more than I expected?!? I think what is striking me so strongly about Brilliant Minds is that you can feel that everyone in the room just /cares/ so much about the characters and the stories they're telling? There's a tenderness underlying all of the character beats we've seen so far, from Oliver to the interns (Dana and her backstory especially comes to mind) and now to John Doe. Having that whole storyline expand over multiple episodes, building up anticipation, finallly meeting him (and oh the dialogues! Playing chess with Dana! Thanking Jacob! Aaaaah). I also really love and appreciate how they've addressed assisted dying, the ethical and emotional quandries that come with it, how your medical team might react to that... So so good. (On another note, I don't know if you're much of a podcast listener, but the very first Invisibilia episode deals with another Locked In syndrom patient - with a happier ending, though - and I couldn't stop thinking about it throughout the episode)

Honestly unsure how they're going to continue/top that in the following episodes, but I'm just so glad I'm along for the ride.

hiii, i'm glad you enjoyed it, i was trying hard not to give away just how mindblowingly good it was agxvgss

as you said, you can just tell that the creators and the writers and the actors and everyone cares a lot for the show, but they are also just there to have fun and it frees them up creatively, i mean i think that much is visible on the show and in the bts stuff they post!

but the show goes out of its way to humanise people with neurological and mental disorders instead of just magically fixing them up and sending them on their way, which is frankly so rare and even rarer to have it this well done. actually, i couldn't really bring up another example at all.

the way they broached the topic and the way they handled it was amazing. i mean... this person was locked in and he had someone who would've cared for him until the end of both their lives, doctors who cared about his wellbeing, his quality of life and him receiving help and love and they all cared enough to respect his wishes and let him die in a peaceful manner anyway, where he was surrounded by people who cared for him, who went out of their way to make it a genuinely good experience (as good as dying can be a good experience, anyway).

clearly my mind is blown, but all that and the way they shown the interactions between Roman and his boyfriend and the interns and Wolf and Carol and just... it was beautiful, painful and skillful storytelling.

it was everything i never knew i needed to see on television.

and i agree, i absolutely love how they just drop some info-nuggets and then let them be, until they expand on them in later episodes, be it the backstory of the interns or Wolf or any of the patients, they don't rush things that don't need to be rushed and get things done quickly to make a point when that serves the narrative better (the latter be more at play in the next episode, but no spoilers).

(also i don't know that podcast, but it does sound interesting for sure!)

in any case, i don't mind that you went long cuz so did i and this episode and this show certainly deserve the attention, so i think it speaks for itself how invested we both are agxvsgs

i'm glad you enjoyed it and thank you for sharing your thoughts with me <333

[irondad-defensesquad]

Fell on black days

Also on AO3. Wrote this because I'm feeling more depressed than usual.

TRIGGER WARNINGS - suicidal thoughts, near suicide attempt (overdose)

DO NOT SHIP PETER AND TONY. P/ROSHIP DNI.

--

It’s a bad day. A truly bad one. The kind of bad day when Peter’s brain won’t shut up, no matter what he does.

It’s a bad day, even though it isn’t a school day. It’s a bad day, even though Peter isn’t alone in his apartment while Aunt May is out for work all day. It’s a bad day, even though Peter is upstate, waiting for Tony to finish making their breakfast.

Tony is humming what sounds to be an AC/DC song, which would normally make Peter laugh. It doesn’t.

Instead, the teenager stares at his empty plate.

It’s nothing. Nothing, hollow.

Peter is hungry for food, but it’s not only that. He hungers for something else, and he doesn’t know what it is. His brain won’t tell him the answer. Or at least not a single good answer.

The first that comes to him is hit his head against the table. Or the wall. Maybe if he does that, his brain will shut up. But Peter is going to break the table if he tries. And he’s going to scare Tony. He doesn’t want that.

Then, the arachnid’s brown eyes find the knife. Not the butter knife.

It’s near his hand.

Maybe if I stab myself, my head will leave me alone.

Maybe if I bleed, I can focus.

Focus on the red.

Red, red, red.

Suddenly, there is a tower of pancakes replacing Peter’s empty plate. It smells delicious – butter, syrup, sugar…

“One Tower of Pisa pancakes for one hungry spider,” Tony teases, sounding like a British butler.

“Heh. Thanks.”

Peter’s lack of enthusiasm is certainly suspicious, since his mentor stares at him for a couple seconds before joining him for breakfast.

The fifteen-year-old eats in silence. He doesn’t savor the pancakes. He’s just eating out of obligation. He does not talk, either.

“… You alright, kiddo?” Tony asks.

Peter barely looks at him. He only nods in silence.

“Did you sleep well?”

“I guess,” Peter shrugs.

Tony drinks his black, bitter coffee, in contrast to his sweet and soft concern, the tender gaze. However, he doesn’t insist.

The breakfast is dead silent. Peter is usually so excited and talkative when he stays over at the Compound. He has many ideas.

Now he stares at the pancake tower, having some of the worst ideas.

Maybe if I jumped…

No, upstate isn’t tall enough. It needs to be a tower. Like the Avengers Tower.

My head hurts and I have to stop it from hurting longer.

Jump. I have to jump. Jump, jump.

“… What was that?”

Shit, was Peter mumbling?

“Um, nothing! Nothing, Mr. Stark. Sorry I’m acting weird today.”

And he’s still not looking at Tony, not when the latter’s big worried eyes are trying to read the latter.

Peter finishes the meal quickly. Tony offers to wash all the dishes. So, Peter goes to the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth.

Upon seeing his reflection…

Hit your head against the mirror.

Make it stop.

Make it stop.

Peter growls, struggling not to listen.

It’s so loud.

Then he realizes that something might actually work.

Peter senses that Tony is still in the kitchen, so he makes way to the workshop, and then MedBay. There are tools, first-aid kits…

They can fix him, right?

They can fix his brain, right?

Peter desperately tries to find them.

Thankfully, he does.

The enhanced painkillers Tony made for him.

They kill pain, like the name suggests.

Kill brain

Kill

Kill

The moment Peter opens the plastic, the moment he makes his decision—

“Peter.”

Shit!

The pills are all over the floor.

Now his head screams louder and louder—

“M-Mr. Stark, I can- I can explain”— Peter can’t breathe —“I just need to fix this, I—”

“Peter—”

He sobs. Tony is so scared. He’s so scared.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

Peter is going to kneel down to take all the pills and return them – or not return them and put all of them in his mouth –, but Tony beats him to it, grabbing him by the shoulders.

“Kid. Kid, talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong. Tell me why you need the pills. Are you hurt?” Tony tries to look for injuries in the meantime.

Yes, but it’s not the kind of “hurt” people expect.

“My head,” Peter sobs. “My- My brain won’t shut up, and I want to kill it, Mr. Stark. I want it to stop, I can’t take it anymore!”

“Oh, kiddo…”

“It hurts, Mr. Stark! It hurts! I just- I just want to die so I won’t have to feel it again!” Peter sobs harder. “I’m so tired, Mr. Stark, I’m so…”

“Shh, shh… easy,” Tony pulls him close, wrapping both arms around Peter, who holds onto him for dear life. “I’ve got you, buddy. I’ve got you, okay?”

“I just want it to be quiet, I just want quiet. My head won’t stop screaming at me and I want to kill it. W-What do I do, Mr. Stark?” Peter suddenly sounds much younger, like he’s a little kid who had a nightmare. “I-I’m scared, I’m scared. I want to die, and I’m scared, Mr. Stark.”

“You won’t be alone, Pete, I promise. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

“Please, make it quiet, Mr. Stark. Please, please!”

Tony squeezes him tighter. “I will. I will, kid.”

Peter buries his face in Tony’s shoulder, crying like he never did before.

He’s had bad days to the point of wanting to die. But never like this. Never to the point of creating a tunnel vision in his head where he finds no way out.

Tony managed to break through the tunnel to save him.

Peter is so glad he did.

--

Right now, they’re not building anything. At least not machines.

Tony has wrapped Peter in a blanket like a burrito, turning the television on for him. Peter is also holding a cup of tea – he doesn’t always drink tea, but it’s nice. He’s watching a dumb sitcom in the meantime.

Tony is with him, refusing to leave his side.

Once Peter finishes the tea, he lies his head on Tony’s lap – which is mostly an instinct, but Tony doesn’t mind. He caresses the boy’s brown curls, and might as well rub his thumb over Peter’s forehead. A way to calm the latter’s tormented head.

Peter relaxes significantly at this touch.

He sighs deeply, drained.

“Better?” Tony wonders.

“Y-Yeah. Yeah…”

He knows that part of his brain is looming somewhere, read to attack again.

“… I hate days like this,” Peter vents. “When my brain won’t shut up and I want to do anything to make it stop.” He pauses. “Like, suddenly I see anything and I think ‘hey I could kill myself with that’. And it’s not an intrusive thought. I genuinely consider it. I feel awful about it… but I hate my brain sometimes, and I hate that I can’t turn it off without doing something stupid.” He sniffs.

Tony doesn’t reply yet, though he’s still caressing Peter’s hair.

“… Our brains can be scary,” the former finally concludes.

Peter sighs, “Yeah.”

“And the hardest part is that they’re essential to us. All those scary thoughts… they’re also part of us,” Tony explains. “I know that doesn’t sound reassuring at all, but… we don’t have to ignore them or turn them off. We can learn the reason why they’re there in the first place. Without giving in to them, if that makes sense. If it’s too hard to do that, then you can reach out for help. You can reach out to me when you feel like this, and we’ll figure it out together, okay?”

He must be speaking from experience, as it sounds very heartfelt.

Peter looks at him, sympathetic. He sits on the couch to then wrap his arms around Tony.

“Okay, Mr. Stark,” he mumbles, tearing up again. “Thank you.”

Tony sighs, relieved. “Of course, kid.” He returns the hug with one arm around Peter, rubbing the latter’s back up and down.

Safe.

You’re safe.

I’m safe.

Safe, safe, safe.

I'm home.

[rhaenella]

You & Me - Rhys Montrose x Reader - Part 1

Masterlist | Part 2

Summary: What happens when reader assassin is tasked with killing the possible future mayor of London; Rhys Montrose. Politician by day, Eat the Rich Killer by night. But he isn’t the only person wearing different masks. 

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Violence, murder, immoral sociopathic behaviour, mentions of alcoholism, drug abuse and neglect, (eventual) smut

Word count: 1.4k

A/N at the end.

Song: Royals – Lorde 

Montrose, R. 

The name of your next victim was written in elegant cursive handwriting on a small business card. Your employer had given it to you along with an envelope filled with your payment for the previous job you had just completed. 

The name seemed familiar to you. You briefly glanced up at your employer as you slipped out your phone to quickly look up the name he had provided you with. 

You typed in the name Montrose and within nanoseconds after you hit search, the app showed you thousands of hits on the name. Newspaper articles, clips of talk show appearances, book reviews, both positive and hate tweets (although the former outweighed the latter), and of course many, many pictures of the man. You recognised him instantly.

You raised a single eyebrow inquisitively, once more glancing at your employer. 

“I’m aware that it’s high-profile.”

You scoffed as you scrolled through the many articles. “No shit, Sherlock.”

Your employer cleared his throat, shifting his weight. “Can you do it or not?”

“Of course,” you replied nonchalantly.

“Good.”

“But it’s gonna cost you.”

“I wouldn’t have expected anything else.”

You hummed, locking your phone and placing it in your back pocket. Your employer diverted his eyes, looking nervous? No — stressed — your mind supplied. You smirked inwardly. The man was desperate for this job. 

You’ve done work for him before. Six times, in fact. Two of which had been abroad, including the one you just completed. Your flight back from Toronto had landed just a couple of hours ago. And now here you were once more.

The man had resources and was rich beyond words. He had power. Lots of it. Which incontrovertibly led to him having many enemies. Enemies that he needed to get rid of. Quietly. That’s where you came in. 

But something was different this time. Your employer seemed off, more desperate than you’d ever seen him. Before he was always perfectly in control, never blinking an eye as he provided you with your next assignment or payment. The man was perhaps even more cold blooded than you. And that’s saying something. Nevertheless, he would never get his own hands dirty. 

Your nostrils flared, having had enough of his stalling. 

“Out with it, what is it?” You demanded.

Your employer glanced around before his gaze fixed on an old desk next to a broken window that had been boarded up. He kicked back a broken chair laying askew on the wood-rotten floor. He always preferred to meet in inconspicuous places. And if you might add, downright shitholes. 

He sighed as he cautiously leaned back against the desk, looking back over his shoulder to make sure it would support his weight. He definitely wasn’t overweight. But you were certain that even the weight of a feather could make the desk collapse in on itself. Surprisingly, the desk remained standing after it gave a slight squeaky noise. 

“I need it done within 48 hours.”

You couldn’t stop the bark of a laugh from escaping. The man had gone officially bloody nuts. Who the hell did he think he was? The king of England? In all honesty, he might actually wield more power than the king himself. But all of that was beside the point. 

“48 hours,” you snickered, shaking your head at his ridicule. 

“I know, I know,” he amended. “But I wouldn’t ask this of you if the situation hadn’t been this dire.” 

“Dire or not, the man is currently number one trending on social media. He’s a beloved politician, likely preparing his campaign to become mayor of one of the biggest cities in the world. And you think I can make him disappear without a trace within 48 hours?”

“Yes,” your employer replied. 

If the man and his ideas weren’t as delusional as the present situation would suggest, you would actually take quite a bit of pride in that simple statement. 

“It’s not simply a matter of the public eye. He must have well established security. I need time to figure those details out as well as his schedule.” 

You took a few steps closer, stopping a couple of feet away from your employer. 

“I can get it done, but I need time.”

“I don’t have time,” he all but shouted at you as he got up angrily, his attitude changing rapidly. The man was known for his temper, but you hadn’t witnessed it yourself yet. His control was really severely lacking today. 

“Which means you don’t have time,” he growled. 

The space between you reduced to mere inches but you held your ground. You weren’t afraid of some rich businessman who wasn’t used to being told no. 

You chuckled softly, making his eyes narrow to mere slits. 

“See, the funny thing is. I don’t need to do a thing. I don’t have to accept your ridiculous job offer.” 

A smirk grew on his face and he retreated a few steps. “Oh? But you haven’t heard the full offer yet.” 

Now it was your turn to narrow your eyes. Truly, who the hell did he think he was, playing with you like this? You briefly contemplated killing him on the spot, but really you couldn’t be bothered. 

“I am offering you three times your regular fee.”

Now this — this — made you stop right in your tracks. Yep, it was confirmed. The man was definitely delusional. 

It may have been a cheap trick. Typically the rich social elite — buying their way through life. But damned be all if it wasn’t effective. 

Your employer knew nothing about you, except how to contact you. To give you the time and place for your clandestine meetings. Which means he also didn’t know anything about your personal life and your financial situation. In your line of work, you liked to keep it that way.  

Truth is, you weren’t poor and you weren’t rich. But you needed the money your unorthodox job provided you with. It wasn’t about becoming rich yourself. It wasn’t about gaining status or anything like that. No, the money went straight to your sisters. 

You had two younger sisters who still lived with your mother, a raging and highly unstable alcoholic. You often debated whether to take full custody of your sisters and have them live with you, but you also knew your job came with certain risks and you didn’t want to jeopardise their safety. 

You tried to take as much care of them as you could from the sidelines. Especially since no one else fought for them. Definitely not your father because he had left years ago, claiming he could no longer cope with your mother’s issues. Hell, like you all could?

Your youngest sister, Sadie, had fallen ill two years ago. Mainstream medicine had failed her, so you were now paying for her exclusive medical trials. The good thing was, they were working. Your sister’s health was improving, but she was still nowhere near healthy and being fully cleared by the doctors. She probably never would be as she suffered a rare chronic disease. 

But she was going to school again now. A private school to be exact, same as your other sister, Zoe, who was currently acing her first year at the prestigious Darcy College. You were so proud of both of them, but with the medical bills and their education, you needed the money. 

Which is why your employer’s offer made both your skin crawl but also your heart clench. You needed it. Maybe just as much as he needed this Montrose guy killed. 

You glanced down at your left hand, your sisters’ initials that you had tattooed on your wrist serving as a powerful reminder of what you inevitably had to agree to. A possible suicide mission. Because how were you going to pull this high-profile kill off without being able to actually device a plan in advance? Without getting caught.

And yet you found yourself accepting his offer. 

“Okay.” 

Your employer didn’t look surprised, seemingly confident that money could indeed buy anything. Or anyone. He had been completely oblivious to your inner turmoil. Probably because of your very well practiced poker face that you never let slip. 

“I will do it,” you said. “On one condition.”

“What?”

“Like I said earlier, this is gonna cost you. Not just three, I want five times my regular fee. Take it or leave it.”

He seemed exceptionally pleased with himself as an unsettling smile creeped onto his face. 

“You have a deal.”

Fuck the rich, you thought as you bitterly shook his hand.

–––– 

A/N: sooo this is the first (kinda short, introductory) part of this Rhys x reader fic. The next parts will be longer, don’t worry! Although I’m very busy with work, I will try to stick to my regular posting schedule (Tuesdays, Fridays, and Sundays) as much as I can. Know that the next few parts have already been drafted and are almost ready to be published :) And boy, it’s going to be a ride. Thank you for reading!!!! 

[asterclaw]

You guys wanna hear abt an AU UTMV without any pictures or whatever...? Cool! Stay tuned then! BEFORE YOU GO In this MV Nightmare gets killed and reincarnated, Blue prefers Dust and Horror to the Stars, and Killer ran away from a mental hospital <3 Hope that was enough to encourage you to read this post. This MV is not completed yet and I would appreciate any suggestions :p

So, everything starts as it usually does - the lack of the balance in the MV. The negativity here overdrives the positivity, getting the Star Sanses, mainly Ink and Dream, to wonder how they could fix it. The solution they came up with is simple: a reset of Dreamtale. The issue is - Dreamtale cannot be reset. What else is there then? Might not seem obvious to you, but, technically speaking, you could just erase Dreamtale as a whole and then wait for it to recreate, getting Nightmare to his initial state.

So Ink and Dream, not involving Blue, as he certainly would deem that a little immoral, decide to lure the bad guys to a battle there, a battle that would include Error as well, giving the Stars access to the code. Why the code? Why, of course to pour solvent right onto it!

When such a battle actually happens, Dream and Nightmare get dissolved (painfully :) at least mentally painfully-). Aaaand the same goes for Ink as he was accidentally affected by the solvent. As the world gradually disappears, everyone tries to get away as quickly as possible. Error accidentally pulls out some not yet dissolved fragments of the Dreamtale code to the Anti-Void. It shapes them into Saturn and Venice (I might change the names later-) - the new Guardians of Emotions - basically the only thing that kept this MV from shattering completely, as it suddenly lost its Protector/Creator and the previous Guardians in the same day.

The bad guys, that is, two of them, are assigned to a mental clinic, with Color as one of its psychologists :) The ones assigned there are Dust and Killer. The latter one runs away, whilst the former actually gets his medical treatment and even kind of becomes "healthier". Together, Dust and Horror then take care of Blue, whose scarred for life and try to help those in need. (That doesn't line up with what Dust's character is all about? Oh well, haha, in my i n t e r p r e t a t i o n, Dust is much, much more of a confused than a bloodlusty fella - he murders others out of "mercy", wanting them to not suffer the resets. His schizophrenia encourages him in this. And, yes, I made changes to all the chars' characters (except Cross cuz I got literally no idea what do I do with him-).)

Meanwhile, Dreamtale is actually "reset". Nightmare wakes up the day, khm, my interpretation, when he decided to eat the apple out of his suicidal wishes, so, when he was cca 14. Dream, trying to keep brother near, kind of "locks him up" in the house or wherever they live- (I just understood that I never wondered that-) Nightmare, certainly unhappy with such a decision aaaand with a lot of responsibility and guilt to deal... Decides to just ran away from all his problems. And so he does. There, in some not too popular nor too unpopular, quite negative AU (haven't decided what AU quite honestly-), he meets Killer and...

Aaaaaand that's it! I haven't covered all the material (by that I mean the characters and their attitudes to each other) but that is already waaaay too frigging much text- I am quite unsure what exactly could happen after them meeting (except maybe some problems with the new Guardians), so, if anyone's interested, I'm all for suggestions! The same goes for Cross, who's just- I have no idea what to do with him quite honestly.

Anyways, thanks for your attention and I apologize for all the grammar mistakes (eng is not my first lang)

See ya later, baiiii~

Ах да, и здесь Дрима с Инком зовут не звездной, а звезданутой двоицей))

[redshiftsinger]

I wanna add some things to this for nuance to this but overall it's really very good and true.

People do not ping-pong between the two

Caveat: unless they have a mental illness that causes that kind of inconsistency. If they do have such a mental illness that's not your fault, nor is it your responsibility to fix or your obligation to continue to expose yourself to if it stresses you out more than their company brings value to your life (unless you have specifically agreed to work as their caretaker, in which case you have more obligations to them, but even that is not an obligation you can never free yourself of, for example by quitting that job).

- If you do things you don't like when you feel meh about it, it makes it easier to do them when you hate it - If you avoid things you don't like when you feel meh about it, it reinforces and magnifies how bad it feels when you hate it - Seriously. Read those last two points again. If you can make yourself make a phone call when you've got nothing to lose, you will slowly lose that panic you get when you have to make a phone call you haven't prepared for. You do have to CONSCIOUSLY take that step

Exposure therapy really is extremely effective against anxieties and phobias, and is very possible to do for yourself. The key to making it work is retraining your brain to stop expecting terrible things to happen, by having experiences with the thing that makes you anxious which turn out fine (or even good, but neutral "it's fine" is enough. You don't have to enjoy making that phone call by the end of it to have effectively done a bit of exposure therapy, you just have to feel like nothing bad actually happened). Starting from "meh" instead of from "oh god please no" is far more likely to end with still feeling "meh" about it at the end of the experience, like "well that was boring/a mildly annoying chore, but it's done now and I can cross it off my to-do list" instead of like "oh fuck that was a disaster this is why I hate making phone calls". If you're forcing yourself through a panic attack to do it, you might be accidentally reinforcing "bad things DO happen when I do this" in the part of your brain that needs retraining. It's not the conscious part that understands logic very well. If you avoid it when you realize it needs doing and feel like "ugh but I don't wanna it's not fun", you might accidentally be reinforcing "this is worth avoiding because it sucks".

People who like you will find you pretty to some degree. Minor things about your appearance go completely unnoticed. Literally, scars and dots and blemishes do not register to someone who likes your company

Not only do the vast majority of people not even notice your minor physical flaws, those who DO notice (as in, become consciously aware that it exists) usually don't care literally at all and will not indicate in any way that they've noticed, unless it's to express curiosity about your past like "how'd you get that scar by your eyebrow?" (this generally means "I'm interested in knowing more about you and want you to talk about yourself", not "I'm picking apart your appearance to find flaws I can judge you for if your explanation isn't good enough". People don't really do the latter thing -- if someone doesn't like you, they're far more likely to simply try to end conversation as quickly as possible or avoid getting into it in the first place). Anyone who makes a big deal over a scar or pimple or whatever is being a jerk. THEY are in the wrong for making a fuss over something that objectively doesn't matter, not you for not "fixing" whatever they have a stick up their butt about. Polite and reasonable people will also not draw attention to or comment on "flaws" that are hard not to notice, like large and prominent scars or obvious physical disabilities, nor judge you for having them (exception: young children who haven't mastered social appropriateness yet may blurt out observations about strangers' appearance without intending any malice. Hopefully their parents are on the ball about correcting that behavior when it occurs, and it's ok to find it annoying but at the same time remember that they're still learning how the world works and it probably just means they haven't encountered someone who looks like you before and are looking for guidance on fitting your existence into their model of reality, not trying to judge or be mean).

Important rules/tips I've learned as an adult that helped with anxiety

If people are mad at you, it's their responsibility to tell you, not your responsibility to guess

If they're mad at you in secret anyways, they're the ones in the wrong, not you

If people don't like what you're doing, it's their responsibility to tell you

If they say it's fine when it's really not, they're the ones in the wrong, not you

People are allowed to be wrong about you

If they are wrong about you, wait for them to bring it up, because if you try to, you will inevitably overcorrect

Some people are committed to misunderstanding you. You will not win arguments against them. Yes, even if you explain your point of view. They do not care. Drop it

The worst thing that will happen from a first-time offense is being told not to do it again. Maybe with a replacement if you broke something

You can improve relationships and gauge willingness to talk to you by giving compliments. It's like a daily log-in bonus and nobody thinks twice about it

Most things are better after you sleep on them

Most things are better after you have a meal

Most things are better after you shower

Your brain makes up consequences that are irrational. If the worst DOES come to pass and someone acts like they do in your head, they are overreacting, and you are entitled to say "what the fuck"

If your chest hurts after you feel like you've made a social error, that's called rejection-sensitive dysphoria. It means your anxiety is so bad that it's causing you physical pain, which is a good indicator that you're overreacting. Tense yourself, hold it for 20 seconds, let it go, then find a distraction

If you're suddenly angry at someone after you feel like you made a social error, that's also rejection-sensitive dysphoria. You are going to feel annoyed about it for awhile, but being genuinely pissed off is your anxiety trying to find something to blame to take the responsibility off your shoulders, and getting scared because it can't justify itself. Deep breaths, ask yourself how much you ACTUALLY want to be angry at that person, then find a distraction

"Sour grapes" is more healthy for you than stewing. Deciding you don't like someone who's perpetually annoyed with you, won't talk to you, etc. makes letting go of anxiety over them easier

If people don't like you, they will find reasons to be annoyed with you when they otherwise wouldn't. If people do like you, they will find reasons NOT to be annoyed with you when they otherwise would. People do not ping-pong between the two

You DO have to make a conscious choice not to think about something. If you're having trouble circling back to it, say out loud that you're done thinking about it and why. Then find a distraction

When you're upset, part of you is going to want to make false bids for attention (suddenly texting differently, heavy sighs, etc. but when someone asks you about it, you tell them it's nothing). Do not listen to it. You gain nothing from it except more misery

People like to help people they care about. It makes them feel good about themselves

If you think you're insufferable for needing help, see above. Yes, really. They get a serotonin kick from it

If you think you're insufferable for mannerisms you have, you either have to consciously choose not to do them, or accept that they're part of the package that comes with you. Being apologetic about existing does nothing except make you more miserable

If you do things you don't like when you feel meh about it, it makes it easier to do them when you hate it

If you avoid things you don't like when you feel meh about it, it reinforces and magnifies how bad it feels when you hate it

Seriously. Read those last two points again. If you can make yourself make a phone call when you've got nothing to lose, you will slowly lose that panic you get when you have to make a phone call you haven't prepared for. You do have to CONSCIOUSLY take that step

Hobbies that make you care for something get rid of that nagging feeling that you're not doing enough. Go grow some rosemary

If you don't engage with your hobbies regularly, you will feel miserable, and anxiety will spike

Hobbies are things that give you a bit of happiness. They do not have to be organized or named to do that. Go be creative in something. Play with coins. Make up lists. Start a new WIP

No one cares what you look like

If people point out things they don't like about how you look unprompted, they are being rude. You are entitled to say "what the fuck"

People who like you will find you pretty to some degree. Minor things about your appearance go completely unnoticed. Literally, scars and dots and blemishes do not register to someone who likes your company

You looking at yourself in the mirror is 10x more closely than anyone is going to look at you

If you're anxious about your body type, and you're creatively inclined, make/write an oc with that same shape. Give them nice things and make other characters love them. Put them on adventures. You'll start to see yourself in the mirror more kindly

You care about wording and perfect lines/colors way more than anyone who views your work ever will

Sometimes when you're upset, you're going to feel like not eating. Do not do that. Not eating makes you more miserable

Same with things you normally enjoy. Denying yourself helps no one. You are punishing yourself for being sad. Stop it

Both of these will take conscious decision to break the habit of. Make yourself do it anyways, and it will slowly get easier

And again, to reiterate: If someone is mad at you, it is THEIR responsibility to tell you, not your responsibility to guess

[swaginsondabs]

Why the iPad mini is the ultimate computer

The iPad lineup has a special place in my heart. In 2019, I said “I don’t know how someone can use an iPad as their main computer” and I was so sure that no power users existed on the platform. I was wrong.

Over the last few years iPadOS has matured. It now has depth to it similar to what you find on the PC landscape. But it still maintains its simplicity and elegance among the alternatives.

Windows on a tablet only seems to get marginal improvements. It is clearly a desktop first operating system. Windows tablets are almost always used with keyboards attached. Windows is a complicated behemoth. The only reason it is so popular is because it is popular. Sounds weird right? But people buy windows machines because they use them at work. And business buy windows machines because people use them at home, and already know how to use them. It is a self fulfilling prophecy.

But, there is a future beyond Windows. Windows is stuck in the past. The desktop metaphor is an aging relic of the 90s. There are better ways to use a computer. Enter: the iPad.

The iPad fixes several issues with the desktop metaphor. First of all, it does support multitasking, but it is decidedly a single tasking system. And that really works in its favor. See, humans aren’t good at multitasking. You may lie to yourself and claim you are, and a small percentage of people might actually be that way, but most of us are not. So a single tasking operating system is ideal for our productivity.

Second, the iPad rejects ideas that hold traditional desktop OS’s back. Things like managing running applications. If every application can save its state to the disk, and that disk is fast enough to pull it back into memory reasonably quickly, then why bother managing running programs? The computer is better at it than you or I will ever be. So why not let the computer handle it and not worry?

Another aspect that makes iPadOS superior is the ease of use. iPadOS has become easy to use and hard to master, the latter not being a good thing, but I need to be honest with you. But you can hand an iPad to anyone and they’ll figure it out within minutes. Windows, by comparison, is far more difficult to use and to master.

So what do I mean by hard to master? Well Apple has been adding a lot of optional complexity to the OS lately. Mostly in the form of customization. You can now customize almost any aspect of the UI. From the free placing Home Screen, to control center, to the Lock Screen, you can customize so much now. But you don’t have to. And most people Will never even know about those options, because by default it just works.

And the iPad has gained some abilities beyond what a Windows desktop can do. Look at the shortcuts app. It is an intuitive graphical scripting language that can take actions inside if your apps. It combines traditional scripting ideas into an easy to use interface. It can even run commands on remote systems over ssh. And, you can add shortcuts to the Home Screen, Lock Screen, control center, share sheet, and in widgets. So you can customize the behavior of your system using these and do almost anything in any app automatically. Windows can’t do that.

So yes, iPadOS has matured and it now goes toe to toe with desktop operating systems like Windows. If you are willing to learn a different, arguably better way of using your computer, you will be impressed with what iPadOS has offer.

[tavyliasin]

BG3 FicFeb SFW - Day 5

Another short scene today, this one is a little more battle focused so there are mentions of blood and fighting for anyone who might be put off by that (no judgement, loves, just warning for those who prefer to avoid - we all have things we prefer and prefer to avoid and that's just fine~) I see this as a continued exploration of ATG's Tav learning to rely on others and all that it means to do so. There is a certain safety in numbers, when you learn how to fight together effectively.

Short below the cut~ ----- -----

Day 5 - The First Time Seeing the Love Interest in Battle

The flash of blades in the sunlight was followed by another gurgled scream, the last breath of a goblin dying in their throat as Astarion’s daggers made short work of them. Tav loosed an arrow into the back of another that was getting too close to him for comfort before switching back to her own blades. The vampire similarly had a hand crossbow for more distant targets, but that would do little against a foe he didn’t see. Around them, their companions continued to fight in their own way, but it was the rogue that caught Tav’s eye, whirling and sliding across the battlefield much in the same way that she did… Though not exactly identical. He had a cat-like grace, using a couple of cantrips to gain the upper hand. She had one herself from her elven heritage, but it saw little use in the heat of battle when there were swords and arrows to do the job for her. 

Where Tav sought weaknesses in her foes’ armour, Astarion would throw them off balance. Where she kept enough distance to manoeuvre more easily away from the threat, he was sure to be in close as if each strike was personal. Where she fought to gain her breath, pressing her body and mind to its limit with a distinct preference to avoid danger, he seemed all to keen to throw himself into the fray to take any opponent down as swiftly as possible. 

She would have worried, but they were quickly learning to work as a team. Spells aimed carefully, blades and bows covering each other’s backs, healing arriving swiftly where it was most needed. Feet churned the mud that was already becoming red, armour and clothes gained new tears that would be fixed around the campfire, and through it all they whirled in their waltz of life and death. The former, of course, kept for themselves, with the latter reserved for their foes. More than once they were learning how to move around one another, finding a fluid motion that covered all angles, and for once Tav realised she felt oddly safe. It wasn’t actually safe, very far from it, but knowing there was someone behind her watching her back, feeling him catch her the one time she stumbled on a fallen foe, for once relying on someone else… In its own way, it was a freedom she had never truly felt in countless decades with only her own blade at her side.The battleground had become their ballroom, and she was learning to love the dance.

[fooddeliverys-blog]

Advantages And Disadvantages Of Food Delivery

Startups Domino and Grubhub, DoorDash, Uber Eats and Postmates currently dominate the US market, according to Statista

The current focus on convenience has been a powerful driver for the growing demand for food delivery applications . Meanwhile, the number of people ordering food online has risen from 1.32 billion in 2014 to 2.05 billion in 2020. More and more customers are moving from traditional phone orders to digital platforms that allow them to choose from a wide range of food from many restaurants in one app or site.

How are things in the food delivery industry?

Startups Domino and Grubhub, DoorDash, Uber Eats and Postmates currently dominate the US market, according to Statista. These companies quickly achieved success. As of 2020, DoorDash was valued at $13 billion, UberEats at $20 billion, and Postmates at $1.85 billion. Together with Domino, they control 90% of the US food delivery market. However, there are 338 food delivery organizations in this country alone, with a total funding of over $5 million.

How do delivery companies take advantage of digital info ubereats clonermation processing?

Established pizza chains such as Domino’s, Papa John’s, and Pizza Hut have been investing heavily in software for years. These market giants have developed ordering systems for smartwatches, cars, and even game consoles.

What are the food delivery apps?

Pizzerias have dominated the food delivery market for many years, but now we are witnessing the emergence of start-ups. There are two types of food delivery services and, accordingly, two main application models:

1.Delivery from the restaurant to the buyer, which is mainly done by pizzeria chains

2.Platform-to-customer delivery is what ubereats clone and similar on-demand grocery delivery companies offer.

Delivery from the platform to the consumer

The first aggregators simplified the ordering process. They acted as intermediaries between local restaurants and customers, offering the latter access to different cuisines through a single website or smartphone app.Using such services, people could view menus and compare prices, read reviews and ratings of restaurants, and place orders. Previously, the functions of aggregators were limited to this. After confirming the order, the application would transfer it to the restaurant. The actual delivery was carried out by the couriers of the restaurant.

How delivery services work

on-demand food delivery app platforms allow users to compare the menus of different restaurants, and shop at any of them using a single application. But in addition to order aggregation, so-called “new delivery” platforms also handle logistics for partner restaurants.They can offer customers convenient delivery without having to worry about paying drivers, tracking their movements, covering vehicle maintenance costs and providing insurance.

How new delivery services are profitable

To cover shipping costs, new delivery companies charge both restaurants and customers a fixed percentage of the value of each order. You might think, is this amount enough for a business with couriers and vehicles?  Your skepticism is quite understandable Major market players companies expand the choice of customers, allowing you to order food not only in large restaurants, but also in local cafes and eateries. This has been a major driver of growth in the number of active users of platform-to-consumer delivery apps in the US. According to experts, by 2024 their number will increase to 62.3 million.

Delivery from restaurant to consumer

ubereats like app full-service food delivery companies do not partner with third parties. They have their own chefs who prepare meals on site. These companies also hire their own couriers to deliver food to customers. Domino’s and Papa John’s are the best examples of such organizations.

Disadvantages of the restaurant-to-consumer delivery model

For starters, a full-service grocery delivery business requires a significant capital investment. You will have to purchase expensive equipment and pay for the labor of many employees. Add to this the various types of insurance and permits that you will need to comply with laws and sanitary standards. Launching a food delivery platform can be more difficult than you might think, primarily due to fierce competition.ubereats like app industry leaders, partnering with 300,000 takeaway restaurants.For a small company that is just entering the market

High Commission

At the moment, this is one of the key disadvantages. Uber Eats, for example, takes about 25% of a restaurant’s bill. DoorDash and Grubhub can charge up to 30%. This amount is significant for small restaurants and cafes. Some owners say they can only stay afloat at 10–12%.

User data

When restaurants rely entirely on delivery services, they don’t really know who their customers are or what kind of food they prefer. Without access to user data, restaurant owners cannot offer modern dishes to customers. What’s more, restaurants don’t have a chance to meet face-to-face and build relationships with their customers. Adding analytics tools would be a good solution to this problem.

Promotion

It becomes much more difficult for restaurants to stand out from the competition when they get into the general list on the delivery service. That’s why they need tools to get attention. Good user reviews and high ratings are the best ways to get even more customers interested.

Market trends and opportunities

Delivery services are more popular than ever. The reason for this success is simple. By partnering with places that haven’t delivered before, Uber’s new services are making delivery more accessible. It is also possible that in the near future, even those restaurants that now control the entire cycle will begin to rely on delivery services. although the company has no plans to move to apps like Uber Eats just yet.

Platform-to-consumer delivery services provide the greatest benefit to all parties — restaurants, customers, and the company itself.

[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

Oh, but that one episode where Mortimer was lying about being the club critic and he demanded to have some cute girls to sit with him. With Yuu working there, Minnie and Daisy weren’t enough for him and wanted Yuu to sit with him. Cue the entire Fab 5 and all the patrons of the club putting all stops and not caring if the reputation of the House of Mouse goes downhill for Yuu’s sake. (Of course, that won’t happen because Lumiere quickly revealed that he was the critic)

Fun Fact: This was actually one of (if not the) first episodes of HoM episodes little me watched so this is going to be fun.

So since Lumiere got held up (I'm 100% convinced that it was because he was so excited for his job as a critic he somehow accidently caused a mishap in Adam and Belle's castle and now all of them ended up being late because Mrs Potts and Cogsworth forced him to fix it. Adam and Belle were especially upset because they had brought a few books from their library they wanted to lend to Yuu - Chip even pitched in a few of his favourite tea bags).

Now Mortimer, the scourge of the earth, the repulsive rodent himself. Yuu very much dislikes him and she practically likes everyone. When he first enters enters the club, the Sensational Six do their very best to make sure that neither of them get within each other’s sight but Yuu being Yuu thinks that he might not be as bad everyone tells her because hey, her friends at NRC didn’t exactly have the best reputation before they encountered The Power Of Love Friendship™. 

She immediately understood why everyone hates him three seconds after meeting him.

Thankfully she’s got overprotective work dads and mums that always have their eyes on him and her so she never has to stick around. Even when they are busy we’ve got the patrons ready to call on her the second she enters within six feet of Mortimer.

Also Pete may be an awful and downright cruel jerk but he's a jerk with standards. Even he hates Mortimer and finds it disgusting that the mouse makes advances on people that are clearly uncomfortable with him. I remember in the Christmas special, when he trapped Minnie under mistletoe and tried to force a kiss on her, Pete quickly took Minnie's place and kissed him instead. Yeah he tries to close down the club in dastardly ways but tricking a young girl like that? Pal, even he draws the line.

So whilst Mortimer is enjoying the fact that he can do whatever he wants and no one can deny him, he decides that it’s finally time to get to know the girl that everyone seems to love so he demands that Yuu sits at his table.

Mortimer: *smirking as he leans over his table on his elbows* You know what, doll? Hows about ya come sit here with me as well?

*record scratch* *entire club goes silent as everyone turns to stare at Mortimer and Yuu, the latter of who’s smiling yet looks both surprised and uncomfortable* *insert Kill Bill sirens*

Mickey: *looks straight at Mortimer with a forced smile, paws clenched, and completely tense with anger* Yuu, go to the staff room.

Yuu: But what about the-

Minnie: Don’t worry about anything, sweetie.

Daisy: Yeah, honey, you go take your break. We’ll handle everything.

Meanwhile Goofy is holding a very angry, loudly yelling Donald back from attacking Mortimer there and then. Yeah, he was angry that his girlfriend was forced to sit with him but Daisy is an adult and a very capable duck who is more than ready to prove how much of a spitfire she can be - Yuu is his kid a girl that doesn’t have that kind of power (to be honest though, if she did attack him, not only would the entire club provide alibis for her, he’s sure that the villains would throw her a party). 

Mickey makes it very clear to Mortimer that whilst he loves the club and would do anything to protect it, it’s not worth it if Yuu gets hurt. He’ll put on a show, alright, but if Mortimer even thinks of even looking at Yuu, then not even he can control what happens.

The patrons also collectively agreed that if the House of Mouse does get closed down, they’re more than happy to fund another one anyway.

Everyone’s 1000% more alert than usual. The animal characters all have their claws out and are balefully glaring at Mortimer whilst the adult humans make sure to keep an eye out for Yuu no matter where she is. Lots of the clients are parents so their protective instincts are on overdrive.

For the entirety of the night, Yuu finds herself seated at a table with Maleficent, Jack Skellington, Oogie Boogie, The Horned King and frickin Chernabog himself. Forget scary dog privileges, no one in their right mind would even think of approaching someone who's being guarded by the forces of evil, the powers of hell and the embodiments of fear.

I feel like some of the ladies would feel especially protective. Tiana was a black waitress in the 1920 so she’s definitely had her share of workplace harassment, Esmeralda’s been hit on quite a few times on men that have no concept of the word ‘no’ and same thing with Megara.

Meg: This is why I hate men.

Hercules: You do 🥺

Meg: All men except you, wonder boy. Now are you gonna punch him or should I?

You think the villains would be bad when it comes to people upsetting Yuu? Just wait until you see what her ‘big brothers’ would do to the poor unfortunate soul that hurt her.

To make up for the mix-up, Lumiere gets the castle staff to perform ‘Be Our Guest’ for Yuu. Even after the whole fiasco, everyone makes sure that neither of them crosses paths again. The clients don’t really interact with him but both the villains’ and heroes’ sidekicks make sure to remind him that he’s on everyone’s hitlist blacklist

Also Daisy gives Yuu a box full of pepper spray ‘for emergencies’

[moemammon]

Can we get some hurt/comfort type stuff where the bros catch MC crying?

It's cool if not, drink water and remember that you're a really cool person ♡

"I Saw You Crying.. Are You Okay?" (Feat. The Demon Bros and GN!MC)

(Hurt comfort, angst, and feels of all varieties)

Enjoy❤️

Lucifer

Lucifer

When Lucifer caught you crying the moment you set your school bag down, he knew something was wrong. He likes to be aware of every situation if he's able, so seeing you like this and not knowing what's the matter is... troubling, to say the least.

He watches your demeanor as you slink off to your room, hoping no one stops you on your way there. He's the type to gather information before engaging, but it's not like he can figure anything out like this, so he goes after you.

He finds you curled up into a pitiful ball, sobbing into a pillow. It doesn't take long for his hand to find a place atop your head, gently petting your hair back. Lucifer doesn't speak, instead allowing you to initiate it first.

And whether or not you DO tell him what's wrong, he listens carefully and provides you comfort all the same. He knows that words can't always fix everything, but having someone to confide in can be a comfort.

"I'll stay here for as long as you need me. Ah, my work? Don't worry about that either. I doubt I could get anything done while worrying over you, MC."

Mammon

When Mammon spotted the tears streaking your cheeks, he immediately went into defensive mode. Can you blame him though? He's supposed to be your guardian! He's ready to fuckin FIGHT

And as such, he immediately hurried after you despite you trying to escape to the bathroom. He'll grab your arm, pull you close, and hurry you off to his room before his brothers can steal you

Promptly plops you down on the sofa and drapes his coat over you. He doesn't know what happened, but he wants names. And if that's not the case, he'll quickly calm down to listen to you.

Big bro has had his fair share of letting his baby brothers vent, so he's pretty good at this sort of thing. Actually, he tries his best to help out if he can. He might not be the best at it, but he means well. And he'll try especially hard if it means you'll smile again.

"Hey... look at me, MC. Crying outta nowhere like that... When something's botherin' ya, come to me. If it's enough to make ya cry, I wanna be involved."

Levi

Levi had been through enough to know the difference between eyes that were red form staying up late, and eyes that were red from crying. Sometimes he’d experience both, depending on what he might've been binging.

But in your case, your red eyes were caused by the latter, along with the sniffling you thought you could hide from him when you came into his room and asked if you could watch tv with him. Of course he agreed, and he gathered up his courage so that the moment you came close enough, he could pull you into his arms.

He's no good at stuff like this. He never thought of himself as the type that anyone would come to for comfort, and yet here you were, choosing his room as your sanctuary. There's no way he could deny you after you came so far!

Levi's definitely a good listener since he's not sure how to handle giving advice, and does his best to dish out distractions. Wanna play a game? He recently got a snack crate shipped in, full off all sorts of sweets! Wanna try some? And he just ordered a super cute sheep plush if you feel like hugging it. Or... you could hug him too, if you want.

"I know that.. things can be pretty overwhelming sometimes. And it probably doesn't help that you're away from your world. But if it's any comfort, y-you can always come here. You're my Henry-... no, you're my friend. So I want to make sure you're okay."

Satan

Satan caught sight of you scrubbing your eyes when you thought no one was watching, and would've assumed you got dust in your eye if he didn't notice how red your face was.

And the way you suddenly closed the book in your hands, put it in a random spot, and rushed off. You knew how Lucifer could be when it came to the organization of the library, so there's no way you'd risk a lecture over a simple mistake.

He hung back for a bit instead of pursuing you, because he knew how beneficial a little alone time could be when one was upset. But that doesn't mean he won't text you to see if you're alright.

When you reply, and grant him permission to see you after he asks for it, Satan arrives with extra blankets, herbal tea, and obviously, a few books. He'll ask if you want to talk about it, but if not, that's fine too.

"They say lavender chamomile tea works wonders for stress relief, and I can attest to that. I... don't know what's on your mind, and I know it can be difficult to put your feelings into words at times, but I'm here, even if you need to yell."

Asmo

When Asmo heard your sobs echoing from the bathroom, he either assumes that you A), poked yourself in the eye during your skincare routine he made you begin, or B), something was wrong.

And from the harsh sound of your cries, he figured it was the latter. There's no way he would let you endure any hardships alone! Asmo to the rescue!

He's quick to politely knock on the door, but doesn't wait for you to allow him access when he's already got it open and closes it behind himself. He gets one good look at you, and he's already cooing.

The boy cups your face and peppers it with little kisses, wiping your tears, smoothing your hair back, and ushering you over to sit in the side of the tub, so he can hug you tight.

"Darling, are you okay?? Look at the state of you... Shall I pamper your worries away with a nice bath? And when that's over, I plan to spoil you until you can't think of anything other than my beautiful face! I'll do anything to make you smile again."

Beel

Beel intended to go to your room to share a new flavor of potato chips with you, but instead was met with the sound of your shaking sobs from behind your closed door. That's all it takes for him to forget about the bags of chips in his arms.

They're discarded to the ground and he hesitates near your door for a moment, worry welling up within him. But Beel won't let you cry for long, because he's already entered your room and is sheepishly approaching your bed.

Without a word, the big ol bear gathers you into his arms for a tight hug, leaning into your shoulder and exhaling. You both stay in that position for a long, long while until your crying has calmed.

He pulls back to wipe your tears and snot, and gives you a worried look. What could've had you crying like this? Were you sad about something? You didn't seem physically hurt... Was someone mean to you? Was it Mammon-

"MC... please don't cry. I'll stay with you as long as you need me to, and I won't let go of you. If you need to hit something, you can hit me. Should I stay here for the night? ....Belphie won't mind. I don't want you to be alone."

Belphie

Belphie didn't know why you weren't answering his texts, but while he normally wouldn't mind, he was desperate to have your attention. Or rather, he really wanted to hug you.

And it seemed you would need just that when he entered your room to find you all curled up under your blankets, hiccuping away the aftermath of a hard crying session. What could've had you in such a state was beyond him, but it bothered him to no end.

So Belphie did what he does best and invaded your space, curling up next to you to lay down and pull you into his arms. He doesn't say anything, only your soft sobs breaking the silence between you.

His hand gently rubs your back when he feels you shake, and he squeezes you a little tighter when you sniffle. Eventually, he looks down at you and moves the blankets from your face, his expression soft.

"...Feeling a little better now? I can't stand seeing you so upset. If someone hurt you, I'll take care of it. If not, I'll let you cry in my arms for as long as you need. And maybe you'll feel better after a nap, hm? Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere."

[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.

[joaquinwhorres]

gazes (joaquín torres x reader)

SUMMARY ››››› It's become increasingly apparent to Sam and Bucky that you and Joaquin cannot take your eyes off each other. Unfortunately for them, you two have decided to be Professionals and that means keeping your eyes, hands, and lips to yourselves. No matter how difficult it is.

WORD COUNT ››››› 3,716

WARNINGS ››››› sexy times implied

A/N ››››› Ok so these headcanons y'all have been sending me are incredible. I read these two back to back and I just had to write something connecting them.

The kid had no tact.

Sam wasn't exactly sure why he expected more from the guy who'd led into his theory that Steve was on the moon by referencing vague internet rumors, but even despite that, he'd assumed Joaquin possessed some sense of subtlety.

Instead he was over at the leg press trying and failing not to stare at Y/N as she bent over at the middle to help Bucky push deeper into the stretch.

"You know she could hit you with a harassment claim for staring at her like that."

Joaquin jumped, the weights dropping suddenly with a loud clang. Across the gym, Bucky laughed as Y/N whipped around to face the two men. "Everything ok?" Her voice sounded genuinely concerned, and Sam couldn't help but smirk as Joaquin turned towards her, giving a little wave.

"Foot slipped," he answered, and she nodded, turning back to Bucky quickly.

"Foot slipped," Sam mocked.

"Dude, you scared the shit out of me."

"If you paid half the amount of attention you give to Y/N to your surroundings, you'd have known I'd been standing here for three minutes."

Joaquin gave a defensive scoff. "I wasn't staring at her--I was just--" he stopped, searching for an excuse, and Sam raised his eyebrows.

When it was clear Joaquin couldn't find a convincing enough lie to end the sentence, Sam shook his head. "You know, if you talk to her, she might actually let you take her out."

"I talk to her," Joaquin protested.

Sam shook his head, uncrossing his arms. "No, I mean talk to her. Chat her up. You've gotta have some game, right?"

"I've got game..." His sentence trailed off as he turned to look in her direction, finding her standing over Bucky's feet with her hands on her hips. "But like, we're co-workers, you know? I don't want to make things awkward around the gym or the compound or anything."

"Joaquin," Sam said, laying a hand on his shoulder. "You're already making things awkward."

"He's staring at your ass again."

"And you're trying to get out of stretching again," you quipped, moving Bucky's leg closer to his chest. The super soldier tilted his head as if to acknowledge the legitimacy of your accusation.

"Doesn't change the fact that I think you're about to give him a heart attack."

"I highly doubt he's worried in the slightest about my ass. He's probably zoned out."

"He's definitely focused in...on--"

"On my ass," you finished, shaking your head. You might have given Bucky's claim a little more credence if it weren't for the fact that Joaquin Torres had been anything but the consummate professional towards you. He was friendly and upbeat and welcoming, and one of the few genuinely good guys you'd ever had the pleasure of working with.

You'd never caught him staring once, and it's not like the boy was exactly known for subtlety. Last time Bucky had asked him to cover for him so you couldn't come down and teach him the right way to train his body, he'd told you that Bucky had left the compound to get you a thank you gift for all of your hard work. All while staring at the gym door.

The heavy sound of weights falling against each other echoed throughout the gym, and you spun around to face the sound. Sam hovered over Joaquin's shoulder, the latter no longer working the leg press but instead looking as if he'd just received the scare of his life.

Bucky broke into laughter, and you smacked at his leg.

"Everything ok?" you called out, and Joaquin smiled, giving a sheepish little wave at you. "Foot slipped."

"It's a good thing he wasn't at the bench press. You might have killed him."

Your head snapped back to Bucky who was giving you a shit eating grin.

"You're an asshole."

"I'm right."

"Do you think if I ask nicely Wakanda will take you back?"

"So you know I'm right."

You chanced a glance back at Joaquin who was still talking to Sam before turning back around and placing your hands on your hips. "I'm calling Ayo."

You were running early.

Not to any event in particular, but just for the general course of your day. It was rare for you to wake up to your first alarm so completely refreshed, and with a fully awake brain, you found it much easier to navigate the morning. You were able to get dressed without crawling back in bed for a few more minutes, and didn't have to battle with sleepy indecision when choosing what you wanted to eat for breakfast.

One thing after another just continued to roll your way, leading you to the gym much earlier than usual.

And that's where the luck stopped.

Or maybe it didn't stop. But it definitely took a turn. Because while you fully expected someone else to be in the gym already, you hadn't expected just one person to be in the gym. And even if you had, you wouldn't have guessed that that one person would be Joaquin. And if, for some reason, you'd had the foresight to sense that, you definitely never would have pictured him to be running on the treadmill shirtless.

You stopped in your tracks, eyes falling to the bouncing dog tags on his chest and then lower to the well defined abs you'd somehow never seen before.

It felt like you'd seen just about every man in this compound shirtless. At some point, they all seemed to strip in the gym or during one of your group training classes you ran for those who weren't field agents. Bucky was shirtless half the time you worked together. It was so normal, you hardly even blinked an eye anymore. Seeing Sam without a shirt was more rare and quite the sight, but it'd never caught your breath quite like seeing Joaquin. Joaquin, who had never so much as worn a tank top in the gym, Joaquin.

And now here he was, chest bare and heaving, feet pounding rhythmically against the treadmill, hair still messy from his pillow and sweat. Your brain couldn't seem to function correctly, offering you images of the sight before you, only closer. Much closer. Hovering inches over your stretched out body as the headboard behind you rammed into the wall with the force of each thrust--

"Hey," Joaquin greeted, noticing you standing off to the side. You blinked, heat rushing to your face as he turned the treadmill down to a more leisurely pace. "Something wrong with my form?"

It was tempting to lie and offer to "help him fix it." Or to be completely honest and tell him you'd never seen a human form as perfect as his.

But neither of those responses were professional or even appropriate, and you needed this job.

You swallowed, shaking your head. "No, I was just wondering why you were wearing those," you said, gesturing to his dog tags, and allowing your eyes to fall to his chest once more. You followed a bead of sweat as it rolled down his body, heading to the waistband of his shorts. Joaquin reached to touch his tags, causing them to jingle together once more and pull your attention up to him.

"It's hard to let them go," he smiled, ruefully, hitting the button so the belt slowed even more. "I'd say it's a habit, putting them on, but at this point they're just like a part of me."

You nodded, wishing you'd taken this conversation anywhere but to the idea of dog tags and what they stood for. It wasn't so much a mood killer but a guilt inducer because instead of you feeling embarrassed and somber, all you wanted to do was grab them and pull him closer to you.

He must have read the conflict on your face because he gave a crooked smile. "Yeah, sorry, it's kinda morbid."

"No," you shook your head, clearing it of the daydream induced fog. "I probably shouldn't have asked."

"No, nah, it's cool," his smile grew into grin, as the belt came to a stop. He leaned his forearms against the console, staring at you as if waiting for you to continue the conversation. Which you were not equipped to do with a smiling and shirtless and sweaty Joaquin Torres right before you.

"Well, thanks for being cool about it," you said with a nod.

My God, something was wrong with you. They were just abs. And sure, maybe the abs belonged to the man who not only found the time to moonlight as a superhero but star in your increasingly dirty dreams of late, but it was just a body party that you'd seen a million times.

But never on Joaquin.

You blamed everything your brain was doing to you on Bucky and all of his stupid comments about Joaquin's supposed fixation on your ass. You wondered what he would say if he could see you now. "And I thought I was half machine. I could practically see your brain short circuiting." or "If that's what you're like when you see him half-naked, how are you ever going to--"

"Yeah, of course," Joaquin said, still smiling, his eyes lifting up over your shoulder as the other door to the gym opened and Sam came in. "Hey," he greeted with a jerk of his chin.

"Hey," Sam said, drawing closer, his eyes on you. You forced a smile on to your own face, and lifted a hand, not trusting anything that was coming out of your mouth.

"You're here early," the other man said, stepping onto the treadmill next to Joaquin's, and putting his water bottle down next to the machine.

Both of them were looking at you now, and it's not like you could handle staying in this gym any longer. "I came down looking for my water bottle. I think I left it here yesterday."

Sam raised his eyebrows glancing around the gym, and Joaquin stepped down off of the machine. "Do you want help looking for it?" he asked, and your whole body seemed to tense up at the idea, your brain transporting you to a future scenario where the two of you wandered around the room, Joaquin next to you or behind you, so close you could feel the heat radiating off of him, all the while searching for a water bottle that was sitting on your dresser.

"No." Your voice came out too high, but you tried to play it off, shaking your head. "I've already interrupted your workout enough. It's either by the weights or not in here."

"Alright," he nodded. "If you need any help looking around the compound though, let me know."

"Thanks," you said. And then you gave another stupid wave and beelined it for the weight racks because you had to get out of here.

You made a show of looking next to each section of weights, even bending over to check underneath of them as if it could have been knocked under somewhere. After you felt an appropriate amount of time had passed to be convincing, you straightened up, empty handed. You turned back to Joaquin and Sam, both watching you rather than continuing their workouts as you might have hoped.

"Not here," you called back with a shrug and then left the gym and headed straight up to your shower.

He was nothing if not predictable.

The minute Y/N bent over to check behind the weight rack, his eyes were glued to her. Or perhaps more accurately, the bright teal spandex shorts she wore. As she pulled herself back up from searching for her water bottle and turned to them, Joaquin quickly looked to Sam as if the two had been talking the whole time and then "casually" returned to her.

"Not here!" she said, shrugging and then walking out of the gym, her footsteps quick and purposeful as she left through the door Sam had just entered by.

"So, what'd I interrupt?"

Joaquin looked up at Sam as if remembering he was there. "What?"

"You know, when the two of you were sitting by this machine making eyes at each other? Did you actually say anything to her or….?"

Joaquin shook his head. "No, she just came in and, uh, we chatted for a second, and then…" he trailed off, as if not fully remembering any of the past ten, twenty, however many minutes.

"You just chatted," Sam repeated, the disbelief on his face edging into his voice.

"Yeah," Joaquin nodded.

"Anywhere in this chat you finally ask her out?"

"Nah, it didn't feel right."

"It didn't--she was practically taking off the other half of your clothes with her eyes," Sam sputtered, gesturing to Joaquin's shorts.

The kid laughed and shook his head as if Sam didn't know what he was talking about. Joaquin moved to exit the gym as well. "I'll see you later, man," he said, leaving a very exasperated Sam behind.

Bucky Barnes was a motherfucking liar.

"Let's grab a drink on Friday," he said.

"Consider it me making it up to you for being such a pain in your ass," he said.

"I'll buy," he said.

Mothefucker.

This wasn't just you and your favorite co-worker getting a drink. This was a goddamn set up. Because one hour and three mojitos into the night, Sam and Joaquin walked in the front door.

"I fucking hate you," you said, glaring up at his stupid smug face.

"Well, what a surprise, he grinned, as you shook a finger up at him.

"I told you in confidence I'm a flirty drunk."

He snorted, giving you a look out the side of his eyes. "You told me you were a flirty drunk after you sent me several highly inappropriate drunk text messages about what you wanted to do to a certain Lieutenant, who," the self-satisfied smile was back on Bucky's face. "Is making his way over to us right now."

"When I get home, I swear to God, I'm buying you a ticket to Wakanda."

Bucky quirked an eyebrow. "You're not going to do it now?"

"I didn't bring my credit card because you said you were paying," you huffed.

Before Bucky could respond, Sam and Joaquin were next to the two of you, greeting Bucky with hand slaps and one armed hugs. Sam came around and wrapped an arm around you first before sliding into the seat next to Bucky, and Joaquin came forward, giving you a quick hug.

Which was a first.

More than the feeling of his back underneath your palm, or the way he seemed to emanate warmth, you were done in by how absolutely incredible he smelled. But before you could fully identify whether it was his shampoo, a cologne, or just him, he pulled away and took the only other available seat near the group--the one next to you.

"I see you started without us," Sam said, raising his eyebrows at the assortment of glasses that sat before you. Most of them were Bucky's as he downed beers faster than should have been humanly possible.

"Hard drinker, huh Y/N," Joaquin teased, shooting you a smile.

"Pfft," you dismissed. "Only three are mine."

"Three?" Sam asked, leaning forward to better look at you. "How long have you been here?"

"An hour," you said, completely unnecessarily leaning forward too.

Bucky shrugged. "I got the time wrong."

"Guess we better catch up then," Joaquin said, and you sank back into your chair, narrowing your eyes at him in challenge.

"If you can."

They did.

You were outpaced fairly quickly against the two soldiers and one super soldier. The rum-induced fuzziness around the edges of your brain was compounded by having Joaquin so close to you. At some point he'd pulled his chair a bit closer to yours so that he could better hear the conversation, and you don't remember when it happened, but his arm had also slid around the back of your chair. To your relief neither Bucky nor Sam seemed to acknowledge this. In fact, Bucky was positively quiet and normal all things considered. Everything was going better than you could have expected.

Until the music kicked up.

Sam was the first to be dragged onto the dance floor. He was Captain America. Of course he'd been targeted by the stunning girl in the red dress who'd only had to come up and ask "Does Captain America dance?" to succeed in pulling him off to the dance floor.

Bucky was next. Although he wasn't tugged onto the dance floor by his hand the way Sam was. It was the sight of the person in the tight black number that did him in, luring him away to the dance as if drawn by a magnet.

And then it was you and Joaquin, sitting at the bar. Alone. Together.

You looked up from your drink, pushing the straw down into the ice to stir up the clinking sounds, and he took a swig of his beer before putting the bottle back down on the bar.

"Alright, let's dance," he said, nodding with his head towards the crowd, and you let out a disbelieving snort.

"I don't know how to dance. I mean, I can dance," you attempted to clarify, although you had a feeling words were failing you at the moment. "But that's real dancing, and I can't do that."

"I guess you're lucky you have a really good teacher asking you to dance then," Joaquin grinned, holding out a hand. You looked down at his open palm, hesitating only for a second before you slid your hand into his and jumped down from your chair.

He led you out through the moving bodies expertly, dodging couples who were clearly more into the dancing than each other and couples where the complete opposite was true. The small bit of space he found you was closer to the center of the dance floor than you'd usually feel comfortable with, but when he turned towards you with that look on his face, any of your residual anxiety had vanished.

"Ok, come close," he said, and you took a small step closer to him, causing him to laugh. "Closer." He gestured, and you moved forward some more, Joaquin's hands finding their way to your hips and pulling you even closer. His hands rose, one finding its way to your mid-back, pushing your elbow up to rest on his, as the other took your hand and placed it over shoulder.

"This ok?" he asked, eyebrows raised, and you nodded, trying to keep your attention on him, his instructions and his words, and not the way that you could feel just about every part of him from the way he was angled against you. His right side was flush against your left, and his knee pushed between yours.

"Just follow me," he said, his head bent close to yours. Before you could even respond, he started to move, pulling you along with him through the dance. It was smooth and rolling and you'd never seen a guy able to roll his hips like Joaquin. He seemed to know exactly how to guide you, moving his body to push and pull yours along whenever you hesitated or felt lost, coaxing waves and movements out of you that you didn't know you could do. Each success was met with a small word of praise and a brilliant smile, as his hands shifted to hold you closer, and you wrapped your own hand around his neck to better feel and predict his movements.

It felt as if a fog had rolled in over the dancefloor, obstructing all else from view so it was just you and Joaquin, eyes locked to each other as you moved together, occupying the same space.

The song faded into the next one, and Joaquin stopped. You went to move backwards, to give him space and have him move on as many other of the more skilled dancing couples seemed to do, switching partners amongst each other. But he kept you close to him, hand sliding down to your waist.

"Now you can really dance," he teased, his eyes shining as they stared into yours.

"Only with you." It was supposed to be a self-deprecating joke, but it came out too quiet and earnest. Joaquin licked his lips, and your eyes followed the gesture, flickering between his mouth and his eyes.

You don't remember making the decision. You only remember, moving even further into his arms, and pushing yourself up to reach his lips with your own. He bent down to meet you, pulling you even closer and pressing his hard body into yours. His lips moved as slowly and sensually as his hips had, drawing you in and guiding you through a careful rhythm that promised much, much more.

Sam sat with Bucky at the bar. Joaquin and Y/N had disappeared somewhere amongst the dance floor, hidden amongst the crowd.

"You think it worked?" Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow at Sam.

"If it didn't we're screwed," Sam shook his head, taking a swig from his drink.

As if on cue, the two emerged from the swaying bodies, hand in hand, sweaty and much happier than they had been when Sam had left them at the bar.

"We're gonna head back to the compound," Joaquin said with practiced casualness.

"Yeah?" Bucky asked, and Sam swore there was mischief literally glinting in his eyes.

"Yeah," Joaquin nodded too fast and too many times. "Yeah, Y/N forgot about something there…"

"What'd you forget?" Bucky asked, turning to Y/N with a wolfish smile.

"Nothing. We're going to have sex," Y/N said, flatly, causing Sam to nearly spit out his drink. "And if you say one more word, I know a pilot who will fly you to Wakanda himself. No ticket needed."

Bucky mimicked zippering his lips into a smug look, and she rolled her eyes before tugging Joaquin out of the bar by his hand. And he followed. Eyes glued to her ass.