#just a horrific show from the top to the bottom

[gl1tchr]

I have opinions on Gotham too. Like how they made my boy Jervis a wierd little freak who is in love with his sister >:(

What the fuck did they do to him. The incest was completely unnecessary and disgusting.

I like that they were fine with that plotline but the Riddler and the Penguin couldn't be gay HGFKSDJFHG like yeah there can be a weird incest freak but if two men make out we're burning it down

[kisakunt]

megumi’s pissed— pissed with a big, capital p. he’s bothered a lot; irritated and agitated with people daily, no stranger to fingers curling into a fist either at his sides or to the top of someone’s head. but right now, in the cold of your room, he’s pissed.

“take this shit off.” he won’t dare lift his hands himself because if megumi is a man of anything it’s principle. you laugh— louder than a giggle but nonetheless muffled by your pursed lips— and shake your head.

“no can do, nutmeg.” and now he’s really mad.

“don’t call me that.” he’s itching, his normally protruding hair flattened, his palms clammy, his breathing shallow.

“c’mon, why are you so miserable all the time?” it’s a slow drawl, a whine that he has to force himself to ignore. “can’t you show a little joy? maybe even some jubilance? or dare you say it might kill you?”

your name comes out stern, calculated and pointed in a way he knows will get to you, and simply, he repeats himself.

“take this shit off.”

megumi fushiguro is not a big believer of tradition. he has never obsessed over a birthday— although he did buy you a singular cupcake and candle on yours— or stressed at the thought of marriage. he’s not big on anniversaries and he couldn’t care less about a baby shower or bachelor party, so naturally holiday’s mean nothing to him.

you on the other hand are, in his own words, a nutcase. you’d met him two weeks before the christmas prior and insisted you get each other small trinkets. on valentine’s day you gave everyone you knew a card, on easter you mastered the art of making your very own chocolate, on halloween you bought a costume that he refused to wear.

and now, here you are again; snow on the ground outside and a small, and frankly sad, tree in your room symbolizing not only the biggest day of your year but an absolutely grueling year of knowing you.

you sit in front of him, criss cross, with a goofy little grin on your face. he can’t help but think it’s utterly disgusting that that’s doing something for him. regardless though, he stands his ground.

“if you don’t take this off right now i’m not talking to you for a week.” you laugh for real this time, shaking your head with more energy than before.

“well we both know that’s a lie. i’d probably drop dead if you did that and then, overwhelmed by guilt, you’d turn into an even weirder and sadder old man.”

“i’m not old. take this shit off.” atop his head sat a truthfully horrific santa hat. it couldn’t have cost more than two dollars, assortment of dim led lights on the trim. he can’t help but think of how many little, lice ridden kids must have tried this on. but he still won’t budge.

“you know you can just take it off yourself, right?” he does know that— obviously— but again, he has beliefs. he has pride. it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact you’re looking at him like he’s heaven on earth or the matching hat smothering your own hair. it has nothing to do with you at all.

he shifts, leaning his body weight onto his left side as he presses his hands into the plush of your bed to lift himself up. he makes a little show of it, slow and meticulous as he barely raises himself.

it would be so easy to avoid this situation. it would be so simple to shake his head or yank the hat off or have stopped you from putting it there to begin with.

megumi’s pissed, but it’s not with you.

“i’m serious. it’d actually be nice to have a moment of quiet in my brain.” megumi is furious, livid and squirming in his own skin. he’s absolutely, unequivocally angry.

he’s angry because he can’t figure out why for the dear life of him there’s a tightly wrapped gift tucked in the bottom of his bag, or why he knows the nearly exact color hex of your eyes, or why he’s hummed— hummed— the song ‘war is over’ twice this week.

you grumble, butt hurt and annoyed now too, and you reach over as fast as you can and snatch it off of him.

“there,” and now megumi’s even more upset because that upset him and his head feels cold and empty now. “happy now?”

and before he can think, before he can be as calculated as he always is, it slips.

“no.” and in that moment something shifts. it’s both of you, just a little bit towards each other, it’s the tension that’s now (and always has been) in the air, it’s the way your hat slips a little to the side.

“well i just can’t win with you, can i?” the— his— hat lays loose between your fingers, your voice quieter than he thinks he’s ever heard it.

megumi wonders time to time if he’s a coward. he knows he’s strong, he knows he’s just in his opinions, he knows he fights. but sometimes he freezes and sometimes he panics and sometimes he can’t look you in the eye.

maybe it’s time for him to be brave. he leans into you, closer to you, breathing you all in and, brushing your fingers in the process, he takes it back from you.

suddenly it’s warm again. suddenly you’re matching again. suddenly he feels close to you again.

“there.” for once, it feels like christmas to megumi. “happy now?” and it feels like he’s got a gift in front of him.

[sister-lucifer]

“You’re Really Not Cut Out For This…”

A Toby x Gender Neutral Reader Drabble 

Content/Warnings: Porn with no plot, bottom/sub Reader, degradation, a bit of mean Toby, heavy discussion of Reader basically being a free use sex toy, no specified genitalia for Reader, Reader + Toby are both proxies

This is not fully proof read! Please let me know if you see any typos

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORKS TO BE REPOSTED, USED COMMERCIALLY OR FED TO AN AI. IF YOU DO THIS I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN AND FUCKING KILL YOU.

“You know, y-you’re reeeaaaally not cut— c-cut out for this-ss-s…t-this ‘job,’ I mean.” 

The sudden admission would make you pause if had the lucidity to do so. You can’t do much of anything with the rabid way Toby’s pounding into you from behind, shoving his cock into you with the whole of his strength without so much as a single thought to your wellbeing. You barely manage to babble out something that sounds like a question. You can feel him smiling despite the forced wrenching of his face. 

“I-I’m just saying,” he continues, punctuating that last word with a particularly acute thrust that makes you squeal, “You d-don’t—shhh!—don’t seem like y-you really enjoy this-ss-s…line of-fff-f work…hell, you’re not good at i-it— it either, if we’re being hones-ss-st-t.” 

There’s no ignoring the cheeky giggle in his voice as he insults you to your face. He leans over you a bit, putting more of his weight on you and practically trapping you beneath him. He keeps talking before you even get a chance to protest. 

“You’re definitely n-not my equal,” he growls with a chuckle, as if highly amused by the idea of your inferiority, “You’ve hardly su— s-succeeded at any mission th-the ‘Boss’ has given you— y-you…but you are so good at this—“ 

He laughs at the way you choke on nothing when he angles his hips upwards just right, hitting that sensitive spot deep inside you that makes you see stars. You can feel his body shudder on top of you, a series of involuntary tongue clicks and whistles interrupting him for a moment before his endless chatter continues on. 

“You’re sooo— s-so fucking good at taking my cock…” 

He can’t contain the flood of sick giggles that burst from his throat before he can truly finish his thought. 

“…Tell you what I’m gonna do.” 

You shiver at how deathly serious his voice becomes suddenly. He’s speaking lowly into your ear, making sure you hear every syllable clear as day.  His stutter even pauses for that moment; he’s focused, suddenly, and a focused Toby is rare, but horrific for anyone who happens to be in his line of sight. 

“I’m gonna talk to the ‘Boss’…y-yeah, that’s what I’ll do. I-I’ll tell— t-tell him myself, ‘I don’t t-think the n-new— new— new one is cut out for this.’”

He grabs at your arms, pinning them to the mattress as he uses his body to hold you down. He’s starting to lose his steady pace as his excitement builds, his fingers flexing and popping in ways they shouldn’t be able to as he grasps your wrists.

“And he’ll l-listen to me, you know? H-He’ll lis— l-listen-nn-n to me, I know he will, be— b-because— beep! beep!— because I’m his f-ff-favorite.”

The word ‘favorite’ echoes in your mind, making you dizzy and sick. As much as you and the others are convinced that creature can’t feel emotion at all, it does show favoritism. It doesn’t love Toby, it doesn’t even care about him; on some level, Toby has to know that, he’s smarter than he lets on, but… 

…He doesn’t care. 

All he knows is that he’s getting positive attention from something, and it’s going straight to his ego. The only saving grace is that he’s usually too juvenile and short sighted to use that power against his fellow proxies. 

Usually. 

Unless he can get something he really wants out of it. 

“I-I’ll tell him, I’ll tell him-mm-m you’d be better off as my toy.” 

You nearly choke as Toby rocks you forward with a particularly hard thrust. You can feel your legs trembling, nothing more than jello underneath you, barely holding you up. Toby sucks in a breath through his crooked teeth as he watches you put the pieces together in your mind, though you can do little to show it. 

“That’s right, that’s-ss-s right!” He repeats, sounding far too pleased with himself, “I’ll tell him you’d be b-better off-ff-f being used, just-t something I can use— u-use— use to unwind after I do all the hard work that y-you— you could never.” 

He breaks out into giggles again, wrapping an arm around your neck and stifling your air without warning. You grasp onto his sleeve, clawing at his arm, but you’re far too shaky and weak to pull it away. He forces you to look him in the eyes, not wanting even a scrap of your attention to not be on him. 

“That’s right, you h-hear that?” He manages to choke out between his laughter, “I’m gon-nn-a get you demoted to a fucking hole!” 

He pushes—throws, really—your head back into the mattress before even have the chance to argue. He shoves your face into the bed, hand tangled in your hair as you whimper pathetically, exactly how he likes. He runs his tongue over his lips as he looks down at you, completely helpless underneath him, and it sends a surge of sick pleasure through his body.

“Just enjoy it,” He hisses through gritted teeth, “Because when I-I get m-mm-my way, this is all you’ll ever do.”

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio (request rules + masterlist in pinned post)!

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out. 

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated. 

[lowkeyrobin]

Hii!! Is it possible to request a Minho x Reader Angst fic? I don’t have any real ideas for what i just rlly like angst😭

Anyway make sure you’re looking after yourself!!

YES 🙏🙏 I concocted the perfect idea for this so I hope you enjoy! ; thank you for requesting!! ; I wrote like a good chunk of this in geometry and physical science so this is actually kinda good lol ; also this is so damn long for me what the FUCK. ; also a bit of inspo in the end thanks to she by jelly roll...

MINHO ; they

summary ; minho loses you again

warnings ; language, guns & gun violence, explosions/bombs, death, he rips off your wckd jacket & top (not sexual), and a panic attack

disclaimers ; top ten most unneeded deaths in cinema

track ; she, jelly roll (again, not a word)

word count ; 2.5k

masterlist

Minho lost everything he'd been able to remember once he left the Glade, including you.

You were a smart thinker, which confused him as to why you stayed back with Gally and the other skeptics who didn't want to find escape in the maze. He tried so hard to convince you to come, but with such little time, he couldn't.

He'd spent months imprisoned mourning the loss of your presence. He didn't know how to function without you. He wondered where you were all the time, if you were even alive or not. He'd been wishing the best in your fate, in the scorch and back in the hands of WCKD. He missed your dorky smile and infectious laughter, hoping one day he could hear it again, even in the stars that he oh-so-missed gazing with you.

Your name scorched his heart every time it was spoken. Your face was engraved in his brain, to the point every time he thought of or imagined you, he'd fight back tears to stay strong. You were weaponized against him, being used to create false memories and episodes to help them find a cure.

Every time he'd wake up from a real dream where you were present, he'd end up in tears, to then have to cradle himself back to sleep. He'd been confined like this for months, then another few days before the bust. It was so, so much worse in the Last City, he'd rather have died in some horrific train crash then have missed his chance at freedom.

However, you survived. Gally did, too, though, even after Minho pierced his chest with a spear.

You'd joined some revolution gang together, learning to use guns and join the ranks. You'd been given bulletproof vests once you proved your worth, officially becoming part of the team.

Reuniting with Thomas, Fry, and Newt was a story in itself, but knowing, or at least hoping, that you'd see Minho again made your heart race in your chest. Gally took Thomas and Newt out to explore the perimeter of the city, letting you reconnect and catch up with Fry and get to know Brenda and her father figure Jorge.

Brenda grew fond of you quickly, liking your badassery and passion to overthrow WCKD. She knew you weren't into trying to kill innocents and understood that you wanted bullets in Janson's and Paige's heads, and you were willing to do it for free.

You showed her and Fry how to use the electro-guns, two you'd stolen from WCKD guards that defended the city walls. They're good for torture, but it was never your taste of tea, you left the others to do the sick shit. You wanted your friends back, you didn't even know they'd been free up til earlier today.

Once the trio came back, they set up a plan that you and Gally jumped in on to deflect and suggest ideas. It was set for tomorrow night, and you didn't know how to process it. You try not to think of Minho the rest of the night, which you awfully fail at, as you'd fallen asleep thinking of him.

You play out your role over and over again, overthinking every single detail down to the grade of gun you'd have strapped to your side. Gally, now your close friend after all this time together, could see your nervousness and anticipation.

"You okay?" He asks, leaning on the railing to your shared bunk bed. You slept on the bottom, him on the top.

You nod, arms sprawled over the top of your pillow, basically holding it like it was going anywhere. "I'm good. Nervous"

He nods, "It'll be alright, we're gonna get him back"

You'd stolen WCKD gaurd suits, your first priority. You and Gally walk around the perimeter of the building post getting the kids on the bus. Your masks are up to avoid any real guards noticing that you're fakes. He holds his bulky gun across his chest, while yours is angled with the safety on across your back. A hand rests over the pistol on your side.

You can feel your heart pounding behind your ribcage, the anticipation of seeing Minho and taking down WCKD killing you. Gally pats your shoulder for reassurance and nods forward silently, wanting to pick up the pace.

You notice explosions in the distance, firey flames illuminating the sky.

As you walk under the main area, you notice a fire extinguisher land in the modern pool, splashing water into the air as it sinks to the bottom. You hear yells, then three bodies plop into the pool. You and three other guards behind you run to the scene, while you and Gally lag behind, knowing who just showed up.

Thomas, Newt, and Minho rise out of the water, floating over to the side after Thomas sends Janson, standing in the bay of the window, maybe twenty stories high, a middle finger. They wade over to the edge and pull themselves out, guards hold them at gunpoint, leaving their faces shaken and in despair.

Gally acts first, shoving one of the guards into the pool, then you pistol whip the one on your right, and you together knock out the last guy. The boys stare at you two, confused as to why two guards had apparently saved them, their questions are quickly answered as Gally rips his mask off.

"Hey"

"Oh, you bloody genius!"

"Oh, shit"

"What the hell?" Minho mutters.

Laying your eyes on him again, even though that mask, it brought you nearly to tears. Seeing his eyes, so tired, his body clearly so weak from the mental and physical stress, your heart broke for him. You make sure your handheld gun had the safety on before tucking it away properly.

"Long story" Gally replies to Minho, knowing what he was thinking.

Minho, still in genuine shock, adrenaline coursing through his veins, looks to you, wondering if you were maybe Brenda or Fry. You bite the inside of your cheek before pulling your mask off, softly smiling at Minho.

Newt and Thomas smile, Newt much more weak, as he was beginning to crank out.

"Y/n?" He questions in disbelief. "How- am I dreaming again?"

You quickly pound the boy into a hug, the moisture from his body rubbing off onto your red and grey outfit. The mask lays on the concrete, where Gally kicks it into the water, same with his.

You hear him begin to sob, holding onto you so tightly in fear you'd disappear like all the times before. You rub his back with your dominant hand, which trails up his spine toward his nape.

"I thought you were dead" He cries, "They've been using you in those simulations-"

"It's okay." You softly speak, "We have to go, you can tell me all about it later"

He nods, eyes still widened in shock and confusion as you follow the other three as they quickly flee the scene.

You take cover by some bushes, leaving Newt on the side to rip his jacket off as he sweats profusely. The veins in his neck were bulging out of his skin, colored a matte black.

You couldn't help but stare, unable to listen to the others talk. You quickly rush to his aid, wanting to help him be the most comfortable he possibly could be.

You crouch down next to him, giving him some reassuring words that he'd be okay. You help him to his feet, where Minho is at your side.

Gally and Thomas lead the way as another explosion rings through the air near you. You duck your head as some loose shrapnel lightly hits your skin, thankfully not enough force given to puncture your face.

The explosions only become worse as you run through a little diner, having no alternate route around as the city was being blown to smithereens.

"God damnit, we said blow up the entrance, not the whole damn city"

Newt falls to the ground, too weak to walk as black ooze drips from his lips. Glass explodes behind you, in which you quickly shove Minho to the ground in front of you to protect him. You cover your head, letting the glass shards hit your protected back.

He gasps for air for a moment as Thomas and Gally prop him up against a safe wall, trying to talk to him. You and Minho follow suit, making a quick plan to go get the temporary cure from Brenda and Jorge, and run back to give it to Newt.

"Stay strong for me, okay?" Minho speaks, his hands on the blonde's shoulders.

He nods, his eyes clearly lost in a daze, his vision blurry and wobbly.

Minho pats his shoulder before standing up, letting you give him a nod of reassurance. You and Gally follow Minho, weapons drawn to protect him as he leads with his quick sprinting skills.

You three get one last look at Newt and Thomas before fleeing, working your way through the maze of buildings and explosions to get to your friends. Gally shoots a guard at his side while you do the same at about a 10'o'clock radius.

"This way!"

You follow Minho, the explosions so loud that they defeaned gunshots. The battery on your stolen WCKD gun runs out, and you toss it to the side, resorting to using your pistol to defend your friends. Another bomb nearly knocks you off your feet, causing you to stumble into Minho.

"Sorry!" You shout over the noise.

"You okay?" He shouts back, helping you balance on your feet again.

"Yeah!" You quickly reply, nodding forward for him to continue running to get the cure.

You make it down to the Berg, where Fry, Brenda and Jorge await your arrival.

"The cure!"

"We can't leave him here like this"

"We can't take him back-"

"We have to, please"

"It's too dangerous, we won't make it back to the Berg in time, or we'll get blown up carrying him!"

You stand at Minho's side, looking down at the blonde haired boy as he stands up. He wipes the tears from his eyes, looking at you.

"We have to leave him, Minho"

He nods, slowly placing the cure in Newt's cold hand. He takes one last look at him before turning away, waiting for anyone to speak and give orders.

Brenda speaks up again, deciding to get back to the Berg as fast as possible. You all follow her, guns out, ready to shoot whoever you had to at this point.

Minho turns to you as you run side by side, "Why are you here? Why are you putting yourself in the face of danger? To save me or something?"

You give him a little head tilt to act as a shrug, "You called"

"What?"

You shake your head, deciding to explain it once you were in the hands of safety. An explosion, which cause the ground to rumble beneath you, knocks you all off your feet and onto the hard concrete.

You all groan in pain, having fallen all over each other. Brenda had fallen onto Fry, and they both stumble to the side, apologizing to one another profusely. You'd fallen onto Minho, of course, and help him back to his feet.

You feel lightheaded, your face growing cold, odd for the amount of heat and fire and running around you'd been doing. You lean onto the boy, feeling woozy, as maybe you'd stood up to fast.

Then you fall to your knees, some invisible force knocking you down, your cargo pants ripping at the knees from the impact.

"Y/n!" You hear Minho shout, his voice echoey in your ears.

You hear three gunshots coming from each Fry, Gally, and Brenda. You look back, seeing a WCKD guard fall on their back after taking three shots to the head and chest. Minho's hands rest on your shoulder and on your cheek as he calls your name, asking if you're okay. You see his eyes glance down, where he quickly looks back up to not scare you.

You stand up, numb to any pain. He follows, making sure you're able to keep balance on your feet. He quickly rips off the bulletproof vest for you and your jacket, revealing the wound right under your collar bone.

You look down at it, then look back up at him, eyebrows furrowed. You look to the other three, eyes widened in shock and fear. Another explosion pops a few hundred yards away, shaking the ground again, though not enough to knock you all down once more.

Minho quickly shouts for anything he can use to keep pressure on the wound. He held his hand over it, as the bleeding was horrible at the moment. His hands are covered in your blood, considering the bullet that shot you went clear through you. You notice the bullet a few feet away, light flickering off of it as it rolls into the street where multiple bloody bodies lay.

Minho rips a piece of his shirt and stuffs it into the exit wound, ordering you to hold it there. He pulls you along as you continue running through the city. Your left arm rests over Minho's shoulders, not wanting to upset your other side. Considering moving, it would only agitate it more, and you were trying to keep pressure on the wound anyway.

As you reach the final yards to reach the Berg where Jorge and Vince wait, you collapse to your knees again, landing face first in the debris covered concrete. Minho falls with you, your weight having dragged him down. He tries to pull you up but notices the pool of blood forming around you. A thin, but large pool.

He calls your name over and over, then flips you on your back, where blood sputters out of your mouth. He quickly pulls you up, your back now held up by Brenda and Fry, who were quick to turn back. Gally crouches down on one knee and slowly removes the cloth from the wound, absolutely drenched in crimson.

"No, no, no, no. Not now! Y/n, get up, please," He pleads, watching Vince and Jorge rush to your aid. "They were shot by a gaurd, went clean through, there's so much blood-"

You reach your hand out to Minho as the men pick you up off the ground, where you stumble to walk with them. They practically carry you on their shoulders to the Berg.

Another explosion knocks you all to the ground again, leaving bruises on faces, arms, and legs as you're pounded onto the ground. You'd be lucky enough not to get AIDS at this point.

Minho stumbles to his feet, rushing to you as the men pick themselves up before you.

He notices blood spewing from the other side of your chest. He rips the extra layers of clothing off your torso, tossing your pistol to the side as well. Gally looks around, finger on the trigger of his gun, looking for a shooter.

"Stray bullet!" Brenda shouts, "Get them in there! Go! Thomas needs us!"

Minho places his hands under your arms and drags you into the Berg himself, all the children right in view of your slumped body. You choke on blood and air, feeling your face grow cold and pale. The liquid trails up into the aircraft, staining the hard metal red for the time being.

Vince jumps into the driver's seat, ordering the others to help you and how to before it's too late. Brenda stands next to him, trying to get any info out of Thomas through the walkies.

You wrap your arms around Minho, feeling the pain in your chest now as you grunt and cry. You squeeze onto the back of his shirt, the pain causing you to claw your fingers into him. He holds you, his heart breaking in two as you struggle to breathe.

The placement, it wasn't possible to keep you this time. It wasn't possible to keep you and be free in any situation, in any timeline, in any universe.

"I don't wanna say goodbye"

He sits on the beach every morning, talking to the sunrise as if you were there next to him. He didn't mind the sand that would pile up in his boots or the dusty grain that would stick to his hydrophoric hands all damn day if it weren't for the water there to wash it away.

His fingers traced over your name on the rock when he felt lonely, like you were magically there, hugging him again.

He'd never know for sure what you meant when you said that he called. He understood that you definitely didn't hear him call for you after awakening after nightmares, but maybe you did, he wouldn't have known. He guessed in a metaphorical sense, he did call for you, which you both knew, but it still confused him somehow. He wanted you to explain it all so he'd understand, like how you always did.

He regretted never being able to rant about all his feelings to you. He wished he had time to tell you about all he went through so you could reassure him that you'd protect him forever. You'd protect him from the nightmares and the scars, the mental baggage that would weigh him down forever.

He started crying himself to sleep after he began to forget your face.

He just wanted another hug, but your face was beginning to blur out. It sent him into a panic attack right there. No one was there to help him as he cried and clawed into the dirt, trying to ground himself again. He couldn't believe himself, he treasured you so much yet he was forgetting your face after merely a year after your dissapearance?

It didn't help that after a while, he began to forget your voice too, that hurt even more. He'd been forced to talk about his feelings to Thomas like a parent-child conference. He wasn't himself anymore.

His eyes were always swollen, eyebags dark and weighing his happiness down. He was depressed. Every smile he showed was just him trying to make his way through another day's work, distracting himself from the fact that he lost you, for good this time, he watched it.

He wrote letters to you with no address to send to. It didn't help whatsoever that he himself pushed you out into the sea once Thomas regained consciousness so he could say farewell. He watched it all, he knew you were gone this time. At least he had some sense of closure.

He had nothing left of you other than that WCKD jacket you wore, that haunted him as he slept. He only kept it because even with the logo of the corporation that tortured him for years and past the bullet holes in it, it provided him a little comfort that you were still there.

He found that telling stories of you to the younger kids helped.

"They were like the life of the party, bright smile, infectious laughter. They were the one everyone wanted to be around. You could see the sunrise in their eyes."

"Who were they to you?" One little girl asks.

"I don't really know" Minho shrugs, looking down at his hands for a moment.

"Where are they now?" A little boy asks, tilting his head.

"They're in the sky, they have been. They're stuck there. I hope I see them again" He replies with a little nod, looking up at the sun beginning to set up on the island.

"Why are they stuck in the sky?"

"They're afraid of coming down"

[mittch22]

I feel the need to draw attention to the plight of this poor bastard at the start of Cars 2.

Crabby is approached by a random-ass Aston Martin at a dock on the west coast of America, given a set of coordinates and is paid what I assume would have been quite a considerable sum of money to take said Aston out there. A strange situation indeed, made even stranger when you realise just how far Finn, or 'Buddy' asks Crabby to take him. When Crabby says "you can't get any further away from land than out here", he really fuckin meant it:

The coordinates put them almost smack bang in the middle of the pacific ocean. (and before you come for me, the bottom set of coordinates are correct, the ones that are displayed in Cars 2 have not had their decimals converted to minutes and seconds) Now, at this point, Crabby isn't asking too many questions. And his confusion must have hit what he thought was an all time high.

Then big chungus rocks up:

Tony Trihull, a heavily armed combat vessel, glides right up along side the tiny little crabbing boat and blocks him off from further venture. And when Crabby shows him his resistance, Tony threatens to sink him with a lazer guided missile launcher. At this point, Crabby relents and begins meandering back in the direction he came from (I do have to hand it to Crabby here, he's one fearless little ocean dweller).

So, Crabby has just been sent out into the centre of the pacific ocean with no logical answer as to why AND been threatened with being blown up AAAAAND, to top it all off with a delectable trauma cherry:

"Sorry, Buddy. Looks like its the end of the line.......... Buddy?"

'Hang on a minute. Where the hell is my four-wheeled, non-floating passenger!?!?!?' Aka, 'Did I just kill someone?'

Fear and panic would have taken over the mega-confusion of Finn's reasoning for his watery trip. 'Where did he go? How did he 'go'? There's nowhere for him TO go. Did he fall over the edge? Was he just a figment of my imagination? Hang on a minute, did I just help someone kick the bucket???'

Can you IMAGINE the horrific thought patterns that would have followed the realisation that 'Buddy' was no longer on board? Crabby is not aware of Finn's gadgets and capacities, and so, in his mind, there is no other possibility other than the death of the Aston Martin. Cue the hefty therapy bill.

I like to think that Finn is a bit of an empath and would have thought about how this situation would have affected Crabby. And I like to think that he would have found a way to let Crabby know that he was still around and kicking. Maybe after the mission had come to its conclusion. It would still leave Crabby with a plethora of questions. However, at least he would have known that he wasn't responsible for the death of a random and rather strange vehicle.

PS - Day jobs being performed in darkness are much easier to explain than evidently idiosyncratic night quests.

[stinkywritin]

All That Remains of the Day

Synopsis: movie night with Lixie

Warnings: MDNI established relationship, bf!felix, service top Felix, bottom ftm!reader, soft couch head with stoned bf while watching movies, mentions of weed (use responsibly/with trusted individuals), no proofreading we die like men

While most of your other friends who were in relationships were out enjoying the crisp fall air and general fall vibes, you and your boyfriend Felix were cuddled up under a blanket on the couch watching Corpse Bride. It had been a pretty shitty morning, not only did you wake up late for work but you couldn’t find your chest binder in time, meaning you booked it to your shift at the convenience store in a tight sports bra and an oversized t-shirt layered over a long sleeve. While you probably didn’t look all that different from your usual self, the nagging feeling of dysphoria kept reminding you throughout the day of your not-super-flat chest. It resulted in a slightly sour mood for your entire shift, the constant distraction from your brain causing a few slip ups at work, resulting in an earful from your boss.

The cherry on top truly was missing your bus home and almost getting hit by a cyclist who didn’t understand the concept of a bike lane, instead choosing to speed down the sidewalk and nearly crashing into you. Luckily the universe decided to show you some mercy and the next bus came on time, even if you still had to walk back to your apartment in the dark.

The cyclist might’ve narrowly missed you but your boyfriend didn’t, practically throwing his body into you the second you open the front door and koala hugging your figure. His arms pulled you into his chest, essentially engulfing you with his upper body before closing the front door behind you. “Y/n you’re cold, come on!” Felix whined in between pecks to your forehead.

There’s a brief moment where he pulls back to peel off your backpack and jacket, turning to hang them up while you toe off your sneakers. A second barely passes before he’s wrapped you back up into his chest again, guiding you into your living room and pushing your frame down to sit on the couch. “I’m gonna go get you some pjs, you sit here and pick a movie”, he ends with a kiss to your cheek before taking off in the direction of your shared bedroom.

You spend a few moments scrolling before ending on Corpse Bride, spending a few seconds selecting the film and pressing start. Felix is back just as the movie finishes loading, handing you a pair of sweatpants and a random T-shirt. While you’re changing out of your — probably horrific smelling — work clothes, Felix brings out a rectangular tray and starts rolling a joint he intends to share. You take a few steps to throw your work clothes into the laundry hamper (pls omg be clean don’t leave ur shit on the floor bro), then hurriedly flopping back onto the couch. Felix hands you his joint and a lighter, “You have the honors.”

You take the newly rolled joint between your lips, lighting the end and taking a deep inhale. As the smoke leaves your mouth when you exhale, you can feel the worries escape with it. It certainly helps that Felix is soothingly running his hand along your back, plucking the joint from your fingers while encouraging you to tell him the shitty details of your day. You pass the joint between each other as the opening sequence starts playing, Felix calmly listening and even massaging any knots in your shoulders he comes across. Your voice echoes over the film as you spill out all the frustrations of that day, trying to get your eyes to stop welling up but the weed in your system making it harder to hide any emotion, getting high with Felix meant wearing your emotions on your sleeves. The joint is long gone and the movie is a quarter way through when you finish recounting your day, fully leaning your upper half onto your boyfriend’s frame with his arms wrapped around you.

“I’m sorry my love,” Felix pecks your forehead before lifting your chin to make eye contact, “can I do anything else for you.”

You nod your head in a sideways motion before whispering, “being with you is making my day less shitty already.”

You hear his giggle before he’s pulling you in for a kiss, disregarding the movie and softly pushing you back to lay flat on the couch. He’s holding you so tenderly, pouring his love into the kiss. The fogginess in your head lets you forget the day’s events easier and focus solely on your boyfriend whose hands are traveling down to the waistband of your sweats. “Let me do more for you angel”

Being high with Felix usually meant his horniness became more apparent, his hands were always on your body and his lips were always placing kisses on you. You whimper when you feel him tug down your sweats and start to feel up on your core, earning a chuckle from him while he pulls your boxers down. You feel his hands traveling to grip the underside of your thighs, the band on his pinky reminding you of the promise ring you got him and then never took off. You can feel the cold metal on your thighs as he pulls them apart to slot his head in between.

He hears your gasps and hums out, “let all your worries leave that pretty head of yours okay” before licking a stripe up your core. He pulls your swollen tdick into his mouth and starts running circles over it with his tongue, letting out a muffled groan when your hands fly down to grip his hair and pull him closer. It’s embarrassing how quickly you start to approach your orgasm, you partly blame the weed for making your body so sensitive but you mostly blame Felix for learning how to please you in every possible way. It’s insane how quickly he learned your body, how to make you twitch and squirm or cry out in pleasure. He’s switching between licking and sucking your nerve when you feel his index finger start to prod at your entrance, slowly slipping in and curling up towards your stomach.

Your body erupts in goosebumps when his finger grazes a certain spot, you can almost feel his grin when he feels the bumps start to pebble your skin. He’s moaning into your tdick, his eyelids opening to meet your gaze and you can see the devilish joy he takes in making you fall apart on his mouth and fingers. He adds in a second finger as he releases your clit with an obscenely loud ‘pop’ before flicking it back and forth with his tongue, he’s absorbed in your facial expressions and sounds.

He can feel you getting close to your release, his fingers curling into you faster as he takes your clit back in his mouth. The added stimulation of his mouth back on you is what sends you over the edge, cumming over his fingers and tightening your grip on his hair. “Such a pretty boy,” he hums out while taking long licks of your release, “my handsome man.”

You’re panting harder than when you ran to catch the bus earlier in the day, your orgasm ripping through your body and leaving your knees feeling like jello. Felix meets you in a soft kiss, you can taste yourself on his tongue but you’re too fucked out to really care. The familiar sound of the end credits starts to play through your living room, catching both of you off guard since it meant you both completely forgot about the movie playing on the screen.

You’re both giggling as you tighten your hold on Felix, your boyfriend lowering himself to rest on top of you and nuzzle his head into the crook of your neck. You both fall asleep in that position, you carding your fingers through his hair and mumbling praises into his ear.

A/N: can’t sleep here’s some filth because my dorm mates can’t let me sleep :)))) I’m not internally screamcrying I swear -V

[areacodefan]

Tomorrow marks the anniversary of the day my young daughter was killed by a driver under the influence of drugs. She was 8. She was exquisite.

The day she was killed began a living nightmare — and it was the second worst day of my life. The worst day of my life was actually three days later when the coroner released her body and we viewed it at the funeral home. I’ve never seen anything so horrific. The only reason I knew it was her was because I recognized her foot.

If you have children, the next time you grit your teeth at the hundredth retelling of a stupid show they watch or you just want to fall in bed rather than folding another pile of laundry or you can’t remember the last time you had any time for yourself… give thanks.

Please for the sake of me and my daughter. I’m not saying to shame yourself for these very natural moments of exhaustion or impatience. But just add a little pause and some context that these draining, straining bits are actually the stuff of miracles. Because I would give anything to fold her socks. Or buy her a new backpack for school. Or try to think up some benign chore for her to do while I make dinner so she can be a helper.

I miss her body. I miss her laugh. I miss her clever brain. I miss the soft sound of her sleeping. I miss her screaming for her daddy at the top of her lungs because she’s excited about a bug she found. I miss her smell. I miss the feeling of her hand in mine. I miss playing games with her. I miss reading to her. I miss watching her when she doesn’t know it. I miss buying her favorite juice pouches and putting them in the bottom drawer of the fridge so she could get them herself like a big girl.

And before you tell me she’s with me every day… I already know that. I live it. It’s my reality. Nothing will ever separate us, not even death.

But grief is about how much I miss experiencing LIFE WITH HER. She was taken from me so soon. She was robbed of her time, her life, her experience. Just because she has transcended the material plane and fulfilled her destiny does not make that any less painful for me, her mother.

My heart was blown into a million pieces 21 years ago. Something has grown into its place. Another heart, a different heart. I didn’t think that would ever happen but it has. I am grateful even while I grieve and feel so much pain.

My girl, my girl, my girl. I love you. Thank you for being in my life, for being my soul mate. You are the best thing that ever happened to me.

[ultralightpoe]

Tiktok Trouble 3 - Jake Seresin

Authors Note: This had been sitting in my drafts for wayyyyy loo long and now that's it's out I feel terrible.

Word Count: 2742

Warnings: Hints at some steamy stuff but just fun other than that.

My MAIN Masterlist

Part One - - Part Two

(Thank you for the gif @unicornships )

Enjoy!

The first clip posted to his new tiktok account was an accident, one that remained nonetheless. 

It starts with the camera swinging back and forth, picking up a conversation being had behind it as whoever was holding the phone swung their hands out to walk. Jakes voice rings out “I’ll have you know-“ before the clip ends and the next starts. 

This time the camera is facing them and Jake is staring at the screen with narrowed eyes as Bob Floyd tries to explain it all. 

“So I press this button?” 

“Yes but it’s already recording.”

“How do you know it’s already recording?” 

“Because the ring around the button?” 

“What ring?” 

“Oh. My. God.” Natasha laughs off camera. “You are so losing to your wife. Can I get her in the divorce? Honest question.” 

“There will be no divorce!” Jake announces. “This park war ends in bloodshed.” 

“You been watching that Viking show again?” Rooster asks, coming into view with a disappointed look as Jake shrugs. 

“……yeah.” 

-  —-

COMMENTS:

“So pretty and still not a thought between those eyes.” 

“I’m on moms side in the divorce.” 

“You think he’s top or bottom?” 

“bottom fs”

-

You were in your shared bedroom, reading some book you had gotten today as Jake works around the kitchen, not really knowing what to do with himself on his day off. 

Then, like the genius he is, he realizes this would be the perfect time to prank you. So he starts setting up. 

First he hides his phone on the glass cabinet, giving it a wink before connecting his iPad to the speaker and hiding the speaker in a cupboard. 

He keeps the iPad close, beginning to peel potatoes before he yells loudly “Bubs! Can I get a hand?” 

And though you don’t yell back he hears your feet pad along the floors until you hit the stairs and come rushing to him. 

“Yeah?” You ask, moving to hug him from behind and kiss between his shoulder blades. 

“Can you start prepping the steaks? I got the marinade ready, I just need you to prep em.” He hears you hum and give his back one more kiss before moving to the cupboard to grab the larger plates. 

He quickly shoots out and hits play on the video he had pulled up. 

The second you open the cupboard door a horrific scream rings out like a demon and you jump back quickly, screaming yourself as you dash to hide beside him. 

Unable to help it he cackles, doubling over the counter at your scared face as you slowly piece together what just happened. 

“No way.” You gasp. 

“Uh huh. Got ya.” He smiles from ear to ear, winking. 

“You’re dead Seresin.” 

“Right back at ya, Seresin.” 

- 

COMMENTS:

“The way she runs to his side has me WEAK!” 

“the kiss between his shoulder blades??? SHAHNDJTN

“Aw! Look who learned how to use a phone!” 

-

Your retaliation comes 2 days later, at 3 am in the morning of course. 

You had been tossing and turning all night when you got the idea, slipping from the bed to grab your phone and bringing it with you as you shuffle to Jakes side of the bed. 

He was out, sleeping like the dead with his face shoved into the pillow and one arm tucked under it to keep it close while his other arm is spread to your side of the bed as if he was reaching for you even in sleep. The muscled expanse of his back is exposed, and the camera gets it all on flash as you lean forward to tap his skin softly and wake him up. 

“Bubs. Bubs.” You whisper, sounding panicked which makes him blink groggily. “The laundry bird came and took the goat.” 

“What?” He slurs, blinking so slowly you’re sure he’s going back to sleep. 

“Bubs come on. The grim reaper broke the washer.” 

“Fuck. Why?” He sounds so upset by the washer, even half asleep, you do your best to contain your laugh. 

“The ladybugs are meeting and we gotta go greet them.” 

“Okay..,.,” he moans, sitting up slightly, swiping at his face like he was actually getting ready to get up. “Okay.” 

“We gotta hurry before the balloon hits the ocean floor.” 

“Okay.” He sounds more determined now, sitting up. “Let’s go.” 

Then, ever the loving wife you switch up quickly. “Why are you up? Go to sleep.” 

“W-what?” He blinks, eyes half closed. 

“You were sleep talking. Go back to bed.” You mutter, and he blinks before nodding. 

“I’m sorry. Come lay with me.” 

-

COMMENTS:

“He was so confused lmao.” 

“Mans was fighting for his life in those blinks.” 

“The switch up has me dead.” 

“Aw. He said sorry to you like it was his fault.” 

-

It was rare that Jake ate McDonald’s, he was raised southern charm style and his mother hated the company. Homemade meals and southern drawls were the way to go. 

That being said there were days like today, both of you sweaty and irritated, and the only choice was McDonald’s. You both had been helping your parents move, which was stressful enough before you added the drama all your siblings brought to the table. 

And though Jake never wanted to talk crap about your family today he was extremely frustrated with them, mostly how they all seemed to be treating you like dirt and he could see you beginning to crumble which always upset him. 

He decided that you both needed a break as your brother began biting about an antique watch your father was trying to sell, claiming it should be his, and somehow someway it became your fault and a huge fight. 

So Jake took you out of the house, planning on getting you both food before you got too hangry, only to get more frustrated by the fact that the only non expensive restaurant in the area was McDonalds. And neither of you were dressed, nor had time for the other places. 

So you sat in silence while you ate and he could feel the anxiety and anger easing out of both of you, and when you went to the bathroom he figured it was time to lift the mood fully. 

He took the lid off your cup, stabbing the straw into the sauce cups lid and shoving it all in your drink before making sure your lid was back to normal. 

He filmed the process of course, and when you come back he claims to be checking emails from work as he films you hum softly before taking a big swig of your drink only to gag. 

A small laigh breaks out as you laugh yourself, panicking a bit as another gag takes over. 

“Don’t puke.” He laughs, and you cover your face before taking your napkin and sliding it along your tongue. 

“Absolutely not. What was that?” 

“No clue.” He laughs, and you roll your eyes but the smile on your face was ear to ear. 

“That was disgusting.” 

- 

COMMENTS:

“The way he laughs while she gags out a lung has me cackling!” 

“Not the Micky ds drink. Those are god tier.” 

“He’s kind of impressing me with the pranks.” 

-

Monday night is spent waiting for him to come home, still cranky with your weekend with your siblings and parents, sore and just not into life in general. 

You tried reading through some of the comments on your guys’ videos but those didn’t seem to help, you tried reading but the book you were reading was at a standstill and when you tried to clean the bathroom the bleach made you nauseated. 

Truth be told all you wanted was Jake. 

But you were his wife, which meant it was your actual job to torture him. And today you decided you would be torturing him. 

You hear his truck, filming yourself filling a spoon with salt and dipping it into the soup. 

When he comes in you smile. “Come taste this!” 

“How about I taste you….” He growls. 

“No bubs. I’m making dinner.” You huff, and he smiles before slurping the entire spoon into his mouth. 

He tries, he really does, blinking slowly before his face pinches up and he gags. He practically wretches, another gag falling from his lips as he leans over the sink to try and spit it out. Running the faucet and washing his mouth out the best he can. “Oh my god bubs,”

“It was that bad?” You ask, watching him. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to gag. I’m sorry bubs. I’m sorry.” He gags again, gulping down more water. 

You start laughing then, practically keeling over as he keeps washing his mouth out. 

“This…. This was a prank?” He sounds so betrayed that you feel a little bad laughing. “I….”

Then his face breaks into one of pure humor as he wheezes, laughing just as hard and moving closer to you until you are both wheezing in each other's faces. Just pure amusement. 

“I can’t br…eathe!” You laugh and he presses his forehead to your shoulder as he holds his ribs. 

- - - - 

COMMENTS:

“Just two people wheezing in eachothers faces lmao.”

“I want what they have.”

“Is no one gonna talk about him eating her comment???? Srsly?!”

- 

“Okay, so there is this couple on here right….” You start, staring at him. He keeps casting nervous looks to where your phone is set up to record you both. Like he was waiting for the prank. 

“Yeah?”

“And they basically dressed up as eachother for this song. Like he wore her clothes and she wore his and-”

“I’m in.” 

“Really? No arguing?” 

“No. You’ve got that excited look in your eye and I cannot refuse.” He laughs and you can’t help but clap your hands and jump up to dash upstairs which makes him laugh and snatch the phone. 

30 minutes later you both are trying to concentrate on making the video, Jake dressed in one of your dresses and barely managing to walk in the heels. 

He is bent over, his hand on his knees as he laughs, the dress groaning at each movement. “I can’t…. Shit-“ 

You are no better, dressed in his military uniform as you try to keep standing, barely breathing as you laugh. “Who….. who said marriage would be boring?” 

“My mother. On our wedding day. When she tried convince us not to get married!” He laughs at the memory, hand shooting out to catch you when you keel over from laughing. 

“Okay. Okay let’s do this.” He clears his throat and stands straight. You both film the video and while you post it you begin compiling the behind the scenes which does indeed have a clip of him bending over and the dress completely ripping down the middle. 

- - - - 

COMMENTS:

“Great googly moogly.” 

“His mom said what?????? Need a story time.” 

“How many times did I watch this? Yes.” 

- - - - - - 

It’s during a shopping day when he gets the idea, after being dragged from store to store over and over again. 

It was in the middle of a target when he decides to give you absolute hell, irritated by the fact that you were paying more attention to their lame bedding collections than him. 

“Hey…. I’m gonna go…. Look at something.” He mutters, kissing your cheek and walking away as you hum out. 

At first he shuffles through the men’s clothing section, getting nervous when a woman in lulu lemons gives him a wink as she shops for what he assumes is her husband. He dashes to the candles after that, sniffing at all of them before texting you “there’s a girl hitting on me in the candle section”. 

He takes a screenshot of it for tiktok before setting up his phone to film, waiting patiently. 

It takes you less than a minute, out of breath as you swing around the corner with a wild look. “Where?” 

“She went that way?” He lies, pointing.

“I'm gonna kill her.” You snap, fixing your hair. “And why are you just standing in the candle section? This is where single men stand to get laid, slut.”

“What, back track-“ 

“It’s like the most basic rule of target.” 

“There are dating rules for TARGET?!” He laughs. 

“You really need to get with the program.” You laugh, smacking his butt before waltzing off. 

He merely blinks at the camera in pure shock. 

- - - 

COMMENTS:

“Bahahahaha. I love her.” 

“She came ready for a fight.” 

“It is the most basic rule.” 

“Girl was so stressed she didn’t even bother to smell a candle.” 

- - - - 

“Hey Jake?” You call, standing in the bathroom as the phone records from the counter a little hidden from sight. You keep your voice on the closer end of panicked. 

You hear his phone shut off as he gets off the bed before he comes into sight with worried eyes. “What’s wrong Darlin?” He asks, reaching to rub your forehead in concern. 

“I can’t get my tampon.” You mumble. 

“Sorry?” 

“I can’t get find my tampon.” 

“What’s that mean?” 

“It’s stuck.” 

“Then pull it out.” 

“I’ve tried.” 

“Darlin’, doesn’t it have that like…. String?” 

“It broke off. I need help.” His eyes widen, eyebrows shooting up quickly and his face going red as he blushes. 

“O….okay.” He nods, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Yeah? You can help?”

“Anythin’ you need darlin’….” He mumbles, slapping his hands together. ���Let’s do this.” 

“You sure?” 

“Y-yeah.” He nods. “I….. let’s do this.” 

“Okay��. Good because this was a prank.” You laugh which makes him splutter. 

“Oh thank Jesus, I was gettin’ panicked there. Not because it would be gross- but like- well I don’t know what the problem would be cause it’s not like we haven’ had period sex hundreds of times but- darlin’-“ 

“Jake Seresin is not a feminist everyone.” You laugh to the camera as he groans out. 

- -  - - 

COMMENTS:

“He would do it. He would kill for her.” 

“The way the southern accent comes out when he panics, lmao.” 

- - - - 

“Hey bubs! C’mere!” Jake calls, unscrewing the panel to the light from his spot on the step stool. 

His phone was set up to film him as you come into the room yawning, loudly as you swipe your eyes. “Hey bubs. I just need you to grab-“ 

He shakes his body, making it look like he got electrocuted as you scream out, rushing forward to grab at his thighs and try to help. 

“JAKE!” You scream, trying to pull him down. He starts laughing, hands covering his face as you breathe out. 

“Oh. That was so…. Oh my god.” 

“Oh bubs, you should have seen your face-“ 

“You’re sleeping on the couch tonight.” You snap, swiping the tears off your cheeks. “Wake me up from a nap just for that you son of a b-“ 

“Oh darlin’ no. I’m sorry.” He sighs. 

“I hate you!” 

- - - - 

COMMENTS:

“Oh that one hurt me-“ 

“Someone is not getting laid tonight…. Or any night.” 

- - - -

COMMENTS:

“Omg. Where did they go?” 

“Did they die? Why haven’t they posted?” 

“I misssss them!” 

“Mom…. Dad…… where are you?” 

“It’s been like 3 months. Come on.” 

“She probably killed him after the electric prank.” 

- - - - 

After 3 months of not posting you both return with a video. 

Life had been busy, with both of you moving because of his deployment and you having to find another job in the new space. 

But things have settled a bit, now back with his “Top Gun” crew and the house almost completely unpacked. 

You had been visiting his parents, and that’s where the video takes place. 

His mom and dad both had headphones over their ears blasting music, and the game is to guess what Jake is saying as you record. 

“You.” Jake says, laughing a bit. 

“TO!” His dad guesses. 

“You.” 

“TOO!” 

“You.” 

“YOU!” He yells and Jake nods. 

“Are going.” 

“Are going!” 

“To be.” 

“TOBY!” 

“To be.” 

“TOGA!” 

“To be.” 

“TO BE!” 

“Grandparents.” 

“Gray PARROTS!” 

“Grandparents.” 

“PIRATES?” 

“Parents” 

“You are going to be grandparents.” 

“You are going to be godparents?” 

“Oh Jesus Paul!” His mom snaps, pulling the headphones off quickly with tears in her eyes as she dashes to hug you. 

“Oh!” His dad smiles. “OH MY GOD! WERE GOING TO BE GRANDPARENTS!” 

When he rushes to hug you both the headphones get caught and he trips up before landing in the group hug. 

- - - - 

COMMENTS:

“No. Freaking. Way!” 

“Ugh.” 

“I’m so happy for you guys!” 

“Mom and dad fr fr.”

- - - - - 

TAGLIST::::::

@the-romanian-is-bae @mshistorylover @boringusername3 @dingochef @quillsandtypos @sunnysidesidra @eddiemunsonreader @sinners-98-world @rhirhikingston @imaginecrushes @80pairsofcrocs @themusingofagothicsoul @mshistorylover @quillsandtypos @mallerz @dtownclown93

@f1oralf1owers @salgachode @fox-bee926 @iamthebeth @anxious-alto @tsnelf7 @dumb-fawkin-bitch @gojos-bizarre-adventure @dreamsofouterspace @xcastawayherosx @chaoticassidy @eugene-emt-roe @iamaslytherin0 @the-romanian-is-bae @lets-turn-and-burn

[romanarose]

About a Girl: Chapter 1

Beautiful header by my beloved @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

Joel Miller x Trans!Fem!Reader (Nickname, Blue)

Series Masterlist : The Last of Us Masterlist : Full Masterlist

Summary: Joel is a simple man. He goes to work, he takes care of his kindergarten age daughter, he tries to make sure Tommy doesn't die and occasionally Tess comes over. He works on Frank and Bill's farm with Tommy, Tess, and another coworker, Max. For his birthday, Tommy drags Joel out to a local grunge band's show, music he knows Joel hates. Joel is surprised to find Tess's girlfriends best friend, a girl they all call Blue because of the blue in her hair, has caught his attention.

What he doesn't know is she is trans. When he finds out, he's very confused, not because he judges her, but because he's not sure what it means for him. Does it make him gay? What does trans even mean? He's very confused. Still, despite all the confusion Joel has an open mind and he just knows that he has a lot of feelings for you and he wants to try. Joel goes on a journey of learning, not only what your trans identity means but also how to take care of himself, how to set boundaries, and learning he doesn't need carry the whole world on his shoulders.

Joel loves country, is as yeehaw as they come. Blue loves grunge, and looking as edgy as she can get by as a school teacher. Can you and Joel make it all work with the one thing that bonds them both together; flannel?

Warnings for whole fic, not chapter by chapter: 18+ ONLY!! I cannot warn against everything, but these are major themes. Joel is a lil ignorant but not out of hate. He just doesn't know. He's trying his best. There will be smut. Penetrative sex, all of the anal play, oral. There will be transphobia from other people. Addiction and alcoholism. QUICK child neglect not by Joel but I promise, Sarah is fine and is having a great time in life. Fetishization of women attracted to women by a shitty guy. Will update as needed. Again, this is adult content. Expect adult content.

Immersivity: Reader is transgender, AMAB female, reader has had gotten bottom surgery, not top, and is on hormones. reader has visible hair and a blue streak in hair, but not described. Could be braids, could be natural hair, whatever. Header is for aesthetics only. Reader is about Joel and Tommy's height. Let me know if i miss anything!

A/N: I am not a trans woman, but I am trans. I am doing my best research! If I got something wrong or accidentally say something offensive, please tell me! Same with Sarah's hair. I learned a LOT about black hair care from living with my black roommate for 2 years, and watching a lot of youtube. Again, if im incorrect or offensive, let me know and ill correct! I just want Joel to care about his daughters hair <3

TRANS LIVES MATTER! TRANS YOUTH MATTER! TRANS ELDERLY MATTER! TRANS WOMEN MATTER! TRANS MEN MATTER! NON BINARY TRANS MATTER!

It all started with Tommy, as most adventures do. Joel was certain Tommy would make sure to mention that fact during his best man speech.

“You have got to get out more. You’re making me stir crazy just watching you sit at home.”

Joel rolled his eyes, packing Sarah’s lunch. He was happy to throw in some plums, Sarah’s favorite fruit, that he got from the food pantry. Since Sarah started kindergarten and he didn’t have to pay for nearly as much childcare, things had gotten less horrifically tight financially but now he was playing catch up. Catching pneumonia last winter had drained his little savings with an ER visit. Joel desperately wanted to not rely on charity, but he also didn’t want Sarah to go without. 

“How would you know, you’re never even home.” Since getting out of the army, Tommy has not adjusted well. Joel was happy to let him live in the house he built for his ex-fiance on his parents land they gifted when Sarah was born. Tommy was a help with Sarah and was good company when he wasn’t out partying.

“Hey.” Tommy looked a little offended. “I’m here plenty. Just ask Sarah.” Sarah adored her uncle.

Joel sighed. “You’re right.” He wasn’t. “But I ain’t going. I can’t afford that, and I’d like to spend my days off with Sarah.”

Tommy tossed a cosmic brownie from the box he bought into Sarah’s lunchbox. “Come oooooon. Sarah loves the babysitter, and one night out won’t traumatize her forever. I’ll pay for the sitter, I already got tickets and I’ll even cover your drinks.”

Joel would rather the money go towards Sarah’s next dental appointment, but he couldn’t tell Tommy where to spend his money, and he knew there was no saying no to his brother when he gets like this. “How many bands are playing? I ain’t sitting through three openers, Tom.”

“Just one! You’re coming!” Tommy ran out of the kitchen and took the stairs two at a time before Joel could protest. “Sarah! Guess who gets to hang out with Jessica tonight!” Joel could hear the sound of springs bouncing as Sarah cheered and called out if the bed breaks, Tommy’s fixing it.

After getting Sarah dressed, he sat her down on a chair in the kitchen and looked at the clock. “Only got time for a ponytail, baby girl.” Joel had figured out some simple hair care for thick hair he wasn’t quite equipped to work with. Before Sarah was born, he didn’t know how to do a single braid. Joel had practiced a little before Tommy had to chop off his hippie curls for the army but he still was lost in a lot of ways. 2 years ago, Joel must’ve looked particularly lost in the ethnic hair aisle with Sarah in the cart and a kind woman guided him to some hair gel, argan oil, and an edge brush, scribbling a few instructions on some scratch paper. That’s what's gotten him through this far. Joel kept thinking he needed to reach out somewhere or maybe find a book… but with what time? 

Kayla, Sarah’s mom, wasn’t much help either. Kayla was mixed and absolutely inherited the polish side as far as hair, where Sarah got her late grandma’s genes. Kayla wanted to chemically straighten Sarah’s beautiful curls last year when she had her over Easter, but Joel put his foot down. When she was older, if she wanted to do whatever she wanted with her hair, braids, relaxed, wigs, she could but there was no way he was letting all those chemicals into a 4 year olds head just to make it “easier.” Joel could handle it.

She looked cute with her little puffball on the top of her head, anyway. 

“TOMMY! LETS GO!” Why was Tommy harder to get out the door than Sarah was?

Little hands tugged at his shirt. “Daddy I want coffee.” 

“No baby”

“Why?”

“It’s not good for little kids.”

“Uncle Tommy lets me have coffee.”

Joel sighed loudly. “Of course he did. Well, Sarah, that’s an uncle thing, I don’t know what to tell you. TOMMYYY!”

Tommy’s heavy footsteps clomped down the steps, dashing out the door. “Come one Jojo, whatcha wait’n for?”

*

How did little kids have so much energy in the morning? Tommy included. Sarah was chatty as ever on her way, talking excitedly about the eggs in the classroom's incubator. He tried to pay attention, he really did, but he was busy trying to figure out what bills he still owes. It was only September, one month into not having to pay out the ass for Sarah’s daycare. Was he even gonna be able to catch up at all before the summer comes? Her mom said she wanted to take her for the summer, but she was single right now and slightly more involved. When she finds a new man, she suddenly becomes much less interested in her child. Joel didn’t want Sarah around strange men all the time either.

“Daddy? Daddy? Daddy? Daddy?”

Tommy nudged Joel, calling him name for Sarah’s attention.

“What?” Joel said, not unkindly but perhaps a little too harsh than he wanted to speak around his daughter. 

“Happy birthday daddy.”

Joel closed his eyes briefly, wincing at his prior tone. “Thank you baby. I’ll bring home a cake, how about that.” He felt like he could cry, snapping at his sweet girl for trying to wish him happy birthday. He was so bad at this.

Both children in the car cheered.

Joel dropped Sarah off with several kisses on her forehead, then ran off to the truck. He might just be on time if he speeds a bit. He didn’t speed with Sarah in the truck, he was less careful with Tommy. 

“Just in time!” Tess’s voice greeted them in the farm house. “You guys eat?”

She knew the answer. Sarah’s kindergarten had a free breakfast program, leaving Joel and Tommy on their own and god knows they didn’t take proper care of themselves. Luckily, they had great bosses.

Joel, Tommy, and Tess all worked for Bill and Frank on their farm. Joel had stumbled on this job shortly after Kayla left and God, what a blessing. Bill and Frank had trouble finding help being the only gay farmers on the planet to felt like, but Joel wasn’t really in a position to deny a good paying job, not in this economy, not with a baby who barely had a mom around anymore. This was before Tommy came back from the army, and Joel’s parents dead a few years prior. He was alone.

That’s where he met Tess. She was something else. A woman working as a farm hand alone was surprising enough, but she was the first openly bisexual person Joel had met. Hell, she was the only the third gay person he knew of and the first woman. He’d lived a sheltered life. Still, Joel didn’t really see an issue with none of it. Wasn’t his business what two grown adults did, that was his thought on the matter. Not that he really had enough time to have thoughts on much of anything other than keeping Sarah and Tommy alive. When Tommy came back, he started working on the farm too.

Tess slid the men some pancakes, stating she knew it and went ahead and made extra.

Frank entered the room with something in his hand. “Wait!” He placed the item, which Joel saw was a candle on the the pancake.

“Oh, no, you guys don’t gotta-”

“Shut the hell up, Miller.” Bill entered the room with a pack of cigarettes in one hand and a lighter in the other. He lit the candle, and then a cigarette. 

Frank took it out of his hand, putting it out under the sink. ��If you absolutely must smoke, you’re not smoking inside our home.” He then turned back to Joel. “Happy birthday, Joel.” The forth employee, Max, enters the farmhouse and then embarrassingly, Franks leads everyone (except Bill) in a very shitty rendition of happy birthday.

*

“Hey,” Tess nudged Joel as she attempted to fix the clutch without calling Bill up. “You coming tonight?”

Joel rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Tommy convinced me. He also told Sarah it’s my birthday so now I gotta bring home cake and do a bit of the birthday thing with her. I was hoping to avoid it another year.”

She laughed at that. “Ah come on! It can’t be that bad.”

“She’s not, it’s my birthday that is.” 

“I know.” Tess patted his back.

Joel and her worked in silence for a moment, but he figured this was as good a time as any. “Hey uh… so. You and Tommy.”

Tess smirked, but didn’t look at him. “What about my dear friend?”

“Well uh, that’s just it…” Joel cleared his troat, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just, you guys been spending a lot of time together, and I’m just… well you know he’s at tough spot right now…-”

“When isn’t he?”

“Right. Well. I’m just wondering… Well.”

With a chuckle, she put down the wrench and turned to look at Joel with a smile. “You’re wondering if Tommy and I are an item.”

Cringing hard enough his eyes were closed, Joel nods.

“Don’t worry about your baby brother, he can handle himself.”

“Can he?”

“Joel. Look at me.”

Joel forced his eyes open.

“Tommy and I fuck sometimes to blow off steam, don’t act you’re much different.”

“It was one time!”

“It was 4 times, glad to know that I’m that forgettable.” Tess continued with her teasing before Joel could protest. “Listen, I know you’re worried about him, but Tommy and I aren’t interested in dating each other. It’s just for fun sometimes. Tommy puts up a tough front but I’d eat that boy alive.”

Finally, Joel laughed. Yes, she would.

Tess went back to work. “Besides, you’re meeting my new girlfriend tonight, birthday boy.”

*

Joel was exhausted, washing his hands and forearms and face before leaving to get Sarah. He tried to stay as clean as possible for Sarah. She didn’t need to know how hard he worked for her.

“Hey Joel, I get to watch Sarah this fall don’t I?” Frank asked as he sauntered into the kitchen. 

Joel tried to protest, as he did every year, but it was merely a formality to be polite. He couldn’t afford childcare in the late hours it took to get harvest done. Hopefully it wouldn’t be so bad now that Max was hired on, he didn’t see Sarah hardly at all harvest. Joel would come back to the farmhouse to find Sarah asleep on the couch with Frank, who was no help with farming. He handled the finances and paperwork, and functioned as a babysitter in pinches. Joel was forever indebted to the couple, inclduding Bill despite his facade of toughness.

“Nonsense Joel. I look forward to seeing her every time.” Sarah fucking loved Frank. He was teaching her painting and how to have a proper tea party, real tea and all. But with a lot of sugar. 

Speaking earnestly, Joel tried to express his appreciation. “Thanks, Frank. I appreciate it. I couldn’t do this without you.”

Frank clapped Joel on the shoulders, sliding him a card. “Thank you for everything you do. We really value you. I know Bill doesn’t say it much, or at all, but we appreciate you here.” He walked off, knowing Joel would protest the $500 cash inside the card.

*

“Daddy! Daddy! I made a friend!” Sarah exclaimed excitedly, running up to her father still covered in her paint smock that quickly transferred the red and blue onto Joel’s jeans.

“Is that so? Who is it?”

Sarah pointed to a little brunette girl sitting in time out. “That’s Ellie! She’s in trouble because she pretended a block was a gun.”

“Oh.”

*

At home, Joel went through the evening routine with Sarah, Tommy having gone with Tess to pre-game. He fed her as much of the macaroni she’d eat, bathed her and made sure to make things as easy for the sitter as possible. When Jessica came over, a nice local teenager that was great with Sarah, he briefed her as he tried to clean up the kitchen. 

“Daddy? Where’s the cake.”

Goddammit of course he forgot something. He just can’t do anything right, can he? He was a shitty dad, a shitty brother, a shitty boyfriend, a needy employee-

“Where's the birthday boy!” Tommy burst in, followed by a group of people, some he knew, some he didn’t. With him was Tess carrying a cake.

“TESS!!!!!!” Sarah shouted, but went more for the cake she carried.

“Hiya, love bug!” She patted her ponytail. “Ready to sing happy birthday at the top of your lungs?”

Hadn’t she had enough happy birthdays? She must’ve known he’d forget the cake. They hadn’t been pregaming at all, they were making him a cake.

Tess hands the cake to Tommy, then gestures to the women next to her. Dark skinned, tall, her hair in… locks? Were those called locks? He was cooked. He needs to learn hair. “This is Talia, my girlfriend.”

Talia smiled brightly, extended a hand which Joel shook. “So nice to meet you, Mr. Miller. Tess talks a lot about you Tommy and Max, it’s nice to put faces to the names.”

“Please, Joel is fine. I may ache like an old man, but I’m not one yet.” Joel joked with a soft but tired smile. He turned to tess. “Max coming?”

“Yup.” She shot him a look to be nice. Joel wasn’t fond of max. Good worker, shit head of a person. Joel knew he couldn’t really blame all Tommy’s shit on bad influences, but Max didn’t help. “And this,” She gestured over to another woman who he had just been too flustered to notice until now. “Is Talia’s best friend.”

You were absolutely fucking stunning, unlike anyting he’d ever seen in his life. Tight white tank top, tight leather pants and a leather jacket. In your hair was a streak of vibrant blue. Your eyes connected with his and for a moment, he forgot about all the other people in the room. 

“Oh, um, hello,” Joel shook your hand when he snapped out of it, repeating your name.

You smile at him. “Actually, most people just call me Blue.”

A small voice from Joel’s hip. “Is that because of your hair? Why is it blue? Are you sick?”

“Sarah! Don’t be rude.”

Chuckling brightly, you promise it’s okay and crouch down to Sarah’s eye level. “I’m not sick. I actually dye it like that.”

“But why?”

Internally, Joel groaned, thinking you’d take offense at the line of questions Sarah’s certainly had ready, but you just answered. “Well, I think it makes me look pretty, just you’re cute hair style makes you look pretty.”

Sarah lit up at that. “My daddy did it!!!”

“He did? That’s so awesome! You have such a nice daddy.”

Sarah nodded in avid agreement. “He’s the BEST!”

Joel couldn’t help smiling at that. He always felt like he was failing her, but she loved him regardless. “I can’t do a lot, but I’m trying to learn. I can do a mean ponytail.” Joel caught Tommy smirking at him.

Once the babysitter took Sarah to wash up for cake, Talia quietly spoke to Joel, still attached to Tess's arm. “Tess told me her mom isn’t really involved. I’d love to help you learn how to care for black hair.”

Joel felt his heart drop. “Oh shit, does it look terrible? I really tried but I don’t even know where to go and-”

Talia cut him off with a laugh and a hand up. “No, not at all! It looks very healthy. I just mean if you’d like to learn how to do more, especially as it gets longer.”

Always embarrassed to ask for help, he always swallowed his pride for Sarah. “Yeah, yeah actually I’d really like that… I’ll play yuh, don’t worry I wouldn’t make you do it for free-”

She attempted to say he didn’t need to pay, but Tess told her it was useless to try and fight. Joel figured the bonus from Bill and Frank could pay for Sarah’s dentist cleaning and the rest he could pay Talia. 

After a terrible happy birthday and saying goodbye to Sarah longer than really necessary, Joel was dragged out of the house to go to some shitty local grunge bands show for his birthday.

Joel fucking hated his birthday.

Thank you thank you thank you!!!!! I can't beleive people actually wanted to read this!!! We need more trans rep in this fandom <3

First chapter setting things up, then one chapter per week for 6 weeks for my Oscar/Pedro pride event!!! each chapter 2-7 will follow themes of the week until the happy end <3

MEET THE OC'S

Talia Monroe

Tess's girlfriend, Blue's bestfriend. Talia is joyfriend and high energy. She offers to help Joel learn black hair to properly care for Sarah.

Max Waltz

Works on the farm with Joel, Tommy, and Tess. Tommy likes him, Joel hates him, Tess ears towards liking him but tries to keep him in check. Max is a generally barzen man, hates his wife, is loud and annoying to Joel.

Kayla Carter

*no face claim right now*

Joel's high school sweetheart and ex-fiance, Sarah's mom. Kayla is in an out of sarah's life, lives out of town and is only around when its convinient, leaving Joel with alone.

I don't do tag lists for one shots but I do still for series so

How to keep up with the series:

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I really enjoy writing this series so I hope you like it too <3

KISSES

Please remeber to reblog or comment or engage in some way <3 community keeps us all writing and drawing

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @ashleyfilm @bumblepony @snnyc @casa-boiardi @del-ightfulling @joelsoftie

[daydreamgoddess14]

I just wanted to say I absolutely adore your writing for River and thank you so much for providing us all with much needed River content!!

If you’re happy taking nsfw requests, I was wondering if you’d be up for writing a nsfw River x female!reader insert, where after a really shitty day, River wants to help make his girl feel good/take her mind off her day, by spending the evening going down on her? I mean… have you seen the guy’s mouth?! He’s always doing something with his tongue and I just think he’d look so pretty looking up at you from between your thighs… 🫣

If prompts would help… “I told you, you would eventually start begging.” “I can never seem to get enough of you.” and “that's it, babygirl.”

Zero pressure to do this btw!! I completely understand if isn’t something you’d want to write!

Bad Day

Phewwww, did someone turn up the heat? 🔥

I loved this ask sooo much, you all probably heard my furious tippy tapping as I immediately opened a new doc to write this 😅

I hope I've done your request justice, lovely Anon! Thank you so much for asking me, I'm so honoured 🥰

As above - River Cartwright x F!Reader Insert (no use of y/n, l/n) plenty of plenty of sexy fun - enjoy!

If you had to look at another spreadsheet, your brain would explode. You were certain of it. 

The poor cleaner. 

She wasn't cut out for bits of skull and pulpy brain matter. 

The pinchy, spiking shards of a headache were forming behind your eyes, you knew it was time to go home (even if it wasn't quite). The office was deathly quiet, everyone choosing to work from home on a Friday in order to enjoy their weekend just that little bit sooner. 

No one raised an objection when you started packing up. 

Close the laptop, wash your mug, pop to the loo, pack your stuff. 

The flurry of messages on your phone suggest River's not had a taxing afternoon, while your lack of response has him correctly guessing that it's been a shitty day. 

You fire off a quick on my way home message and drop your phone into the top of your bag, the glare isn't helping the headache.

The tube is typical Friday levels of horrific. Tourists descending by the train load, ready for a weekend of West End shows and sightseeing. 

The train lurching from side to side makes you queasy and in hindsight, you definitely should have drunk more water throughout the day. 

Climbing the stairs to the flat feels like climbing a mountain. 

God, you hope it's River's turn to cook. 

If it's not, you're getting straight on the phone to Loretta at the Italian round the corner.

The narrow hallway is pitch black when you push open the door, you sound like a bull in an antique shop trying to squeeze yourself, your laptop bag, handbag and coat through the door.

“Ugh, fucks sake,” you dump everything on the floor as soon as you're clear of the hall. “River?”

“In here,” you're about to follow the sound of his voice to the open plan kitchen living area when you spot the first candle, then the second.

There's a path of them lighting the way. 

Your heels click lightly on the hardwood floor as you approach. 

He's waiting - with a glass of wine - and after the day you've had, you could cry. 

He must see the wobble of your bottom lip because he puts the glass down and slips an arm around your waist. 

His large hand is flat on the small of your back as he pulls you towards him. 

“What happened?” He asks softly, his lips on your hairline. 

“Just too many meetings, too much going on. My head is pounding.” You sigh. It all seems fairly unimportant now that it's over. Fuss over nothing. River's hand travels down over the curve of your ass, poured into the tight pencil skirt. He squeezes lightly. 

“No dress down day for you. Have I told you how much I love this skirt?” The blush creeps from your cheeks down into the neckline of your shirt. 

The hard edge of the bad day is softening slowly. 

He offers his hand, knowing your next request like clockwork. You allow him to keep you steady while you kick off your heels, banishing them out of your sight. 

“Much better,” you murmur. 

The height difference is much greater now, it means you can bury your face into his chest.

The cotton of his t-shirt is warm and soft against your skin and his long arms wrap around you. 

You breathe in deeply. 

“I probably smell like Lamb's cigarette smoke.” You shake your head against him

“You smell like you. Like home.” You loosen your arms and look up at him. “You hungry? I'll call Lorie and get some pasta?” In the candlelight, there's a twinkle in his eye. 

“I'm definitely hungry, babe, but -”

“Not pasta? How about one of those giant calzones?” You go to move out of his arms but they tighten around you, keeping you close to him.

“Still not what I'm thinking,” his fingertips go to the high waist of your skirt, finding the hidden zip and sliding it down. 

While you're distracted by his hands, his mouth is finally on yours and he's walking you backwards towards the bedroom.

When the skirt slips to the floor, River's careful to guide you so you don't trip over it. 

“What're you up to, Cartwright?” You ask quietly, not moving your lips from his.

“Just trying to improve your shitty day.” His nose brushes against yours. 

“Haven't you had a rubbish one too?” You query, the backs of your knees bumping against the edge of the bed. He shrugs.

“I get to improve my day as well then, don't I?” 

With the lightest of pushes against your hip, you drop down onto the bed. 

“Arms up.” He instructs, pulling your blouse over your head. “And budge up a bit,” you shuffle obligingly up the bed and lie back contentedly against the heap of pillows.

“Don’t forget the candles,” you murmur as you feel his knee dip the bed between your own. His laugh makes you smile. “I’m serious, River. Do not burn down our flat.” He pinches his tongue between his teeth.

“Yeah ok. Make yourself comfortable,” he warns as he hops back off the bed.

“Why’s that?”

“Because I’m going to keep you there all night?” He poses it as a question but the smirk on his face suggests it’s definitely not up for negotiation.

“Oh,” the blush returns. 

He never fails to knock you off guard.

The candles, the adoration. 

It took a little while for him to grasp that you loved him, that you wanted to show him how loved he was.

Once it clicked with him though, there was no stopping him. 

He returns quickly, with a handful of the candles which he dots around the room, and your wine. He must have been home much earlier than you, he’s already dressed down in soft gym shorts and a plain t-shirt. His hair ruffled from the shower and still a little damp.

“Now that we’ve established I’m not going to burn the flat down,”

“It was kind of a priority.” You counter. 

His knee has found the gap between yours and he’s crawling up the bed to you. 

A predator trapping his prey. Though predator would not be the word you’d use to describe him at all currently. 

“Agreed,” he told you sincerely. “So now that’s sorted,” his hand snakes behind your back to unclasp your bra, “you should know that I intend to fully take your mind off your shitty day.” The headache is duller now, just being around him is working wonders in soothing you. 

“How do you propose to do that then?” You tease playfully.

He sits back on his heels, pulling the straps of your bra down your arms. 

With it discarded, he traps you again with one arm either side of your waist and his hands pinned to the bed. 

He leans into you, gazing intently at your tired eyes before kissing you gently.

“Just let me take care of you.” You melt into the kiss, your arms coming up to loop around his neck, trying to pull him down on top of you. 

He resists, keeping his weight on his hands which haven’t left the bed. 

The only move he makes is to run a finger down the side of your breast to your waist, tickling you into letting go of him. With a little huff, you acquiesce. 

He clearly has intentions and won’t be swayed. 

“Good girl.” He chuckles. Your thighs try to press together at the praise but his knee is in the way and feeling your legs tighten against him only makes him laugh more. 

He nudges your knees further apart and gets comfortable pressing firm kisses in a line from your throat down between your breasts.

“River -” you plead.

“Yes, love?” He looks up from your body, his annoyingly gorgeous smile perfectly framed by your pebbled nipples. “Oh,” they seem to distract him from what you were about to say and when he rolls his tongue around one of them, you forget what you were about to say. 

He doesn’t let you gather your thoughts, just continues to move down your body until he’s level with your plain black knickers. “You were saying?” He stops just as your back arches off the bed in an attempt to get closer to him.

“No idea. Please -” you whine, wiggling just a little.

“Please?” His breath ghosts over your core and it makes your cunt ache with wanting. “I think you can do better than that,” he nudges his nose against you, the cotton of your knickers providing the tiniest amount of friction on your clit.

“Ohh, River -”

“Yes, love?” 

“I need -” you breathe, wiggling a little more brazenly. 

He rests his chin on your thigh and looks up at you.

“Go on?” He asks with a wicked grin, earning him a glare from you in response.

“I want you.”

“I know, babe.” 

He hooks his fingers in the waistband of your knickers and tugs at them slowly. 

They slip down, millimeter by millimeter. 

“Tell me what you want?” 

Your patience may be wearing thin, but he’s enjoying every second of stringing you along. 

True to his word you’ve completely forgotten about your headache and your bad day. 

“I can never seem to get enough of you,” he tells you, his eyes not leaving yours. 

His warm hand pulls your underwear further down and guides your legs out of them. He’s managed to remove every item of your clothing without losing a single piece of his own. 

Watching you, the point of his tongue traces a circle around your throbbing clit. 

He hooks an arm over your thigh to hold you close to him.

“River… River please -” you sigh, desperate for more of his touch.

“Please what, babe?” If you were in any position to argue, you still probably wouldn’t. 

Impatient or not, he knows what he’s doing to you, and he knows how much you love it.

“God, River. I’ll kill you.”

“Nah, you won’t,” he sniggers. “I’ve got all night, you know? Don’t rush on my account.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

“I know I can get you to beg, however long it takes.”

“You’re cruel.”

“That’s a bit harsh. Anyway, you’re distracting me, I’ve got something very important going on here,” without further warning, he presses the flat of his tongue against your slit and glides a path through your folds. 

“Fuck, River!” You shudder against him, “please, please -” he doesn’t respond, far too busy watching you writhe and arch under his grip as he fucks you with his tongue. 

When you finally open your eyes again, you meet his gaze and you can tell he’s not as unaffected as he makes out to be. You hold eye contact while you grind against his mouth, his own hips rutting into the bed in response as he hungrily devours you. 

You can’t hold out any longer, you’ll happily beg for more if that’s what he wants from you. 

“God, please River, please. I need you to fuck me,” 

He grins against you. “I told you you’d eventually start begging.” He buries his face back into your dripping cunt, building you up again until your legs shake and you’re pushed, wailing, over the edge.

“Oh, god -”

“That’s it, baby. Another.” It’s not a question, it’s a demand. 

Your hands tangle in his hair as he goes back to your overstimulated, swollen clit and wraps his lips around it, sucking gently. 

It’s enough to have you seeing stars. 

This time, he works two fingers inside you, pumping them languidly and letting them brush against your g-spot. So close to your first orgasm, the second doesn’t take long to approach.

“You’ve got it babe, let me make you feel good,” he coaches you softly as your thighs clamp around his hand. You’ve lost all ability to speak, his name tumbles from your lips in snatches and gasps as the walls of your cunt constrict around his long fingers. He lets you down gently, withdrawing his hand and mouth slowly when you finally unclench your legs. 

“That’s my girl,” he mutters, leaving as many kisses on the way back up the length of your body as he did on the way down. “You ok?” he asks, coming to lay next to you. 

You can feel the length of him pressed against your hip and, despite being exhausted, the thought of having his cock split you open is appealing. 

You shake your head a little, a hand shyly covering your eyes. “Don’t know,” you manage to croak.

“How’s the headache?” He kisses your temple.

“Gone,” you move your hand, not wanting to hide from him. “Thank you,” you whisper with a small grin.

“Anything for you.” He stretches his long body out, his own arousal still evident.

“Anything?” You ask, palming his hard cock through his shorts.

“And here I thought you’d have no energy left,” he groaned, rocking into your hand.  

“I can never seem to get enough of you,” you mimic his earlier words and roll onto him, up on to your knees. 

Your still soaked pussy leaves a damp patch on his shorts and the heat radiates from your core. 

You tug his shorts down and the length of him springs free. 

You mouth waters, and though you’d love to feel the weight of him on your tongue, you need him to fill you up. 

You line up against him, spread your knees wide and sink down onto him.

“Fucking hell, River,” your head tips back as your tight, hot cunt stretches around him.

“Fuck,” he bucks up into you, making you gasp. “When I die…”

“Shut up,” you laugh, leaning down to kiss him. You still taste yourself on his tongue and the flashback it triggers makes you grind down onto his cock. “Silly boy.”

“I’m serious, when I go, this is what I’ll be thinking about.” He sits up, filling you even more deeply. You pull his t-shirt off him and he holds you tightly against him. With no space between your bodies, the friction is divine. 

He doesn’t give you space to ride him but rolling your hips against him feels much closer to what you both need anyway. 

He rests his forehead against yours, his piercing blue eyes filled with love. You cup his cheek and kiss him.

“Come for me, love,” you whisper, feeling the muscles in his back tense. The hands that grip your hips hard enough to leave a mark move, and he brings his thumb to your mouth. You take it between your lips, leaving a trail of saliva behind when he takes it back and presses it to your clit.

“Not without you,” he rasps. You rock desperately into him, your own orgasm triggering as you feel him emptying into you. You slump against him, amazed he still has the strength to hold you both up. He doesn’t for long and pulls you down on top of him.

“Holy shit, River.” You pant breathlessly.

“You need talk.” 

You curl against him, the candlelight fading. Sleep is threatening to take you, but is interrupted by your rumbling stomach. 

“We should get some food.” You mutter sleepily into his chest. You try to snuggle in closer but he moves away, leaving you frowning. “Where’re you going?” He pulls on his t-shirt and shorts as the doorbell rings.

“Food. I called Loretta before you got home, asked her to send something over for about 8ish.” 

You stare after him as he leaves you with a quick wink. 

The boy really did know how to fix a bad day.

[teastainedprose]

I want to ramble about Homelander in bed. 

Blah blah "Homelander is a sub!", "NO, he's a Daddy Dom!", "No, he's!" He's whatever you want to fap to, who the fuck cares

He's none of the above. I don't think any D/s dynamic roles encapsule Homelander, not even Switching. (It's not his scene, bondage is a waste of time, this collar look stupid, don't call me that, that's weird...)

He's simply not into sticking to any set kink dynamics. (The vibes are off, fam. He'd be the vanilla boy within the BDSM dungeon. Confused and bemused.)

He doesn't have some innate desire to give up control to someone constantly, or to lead someone with a firm or gentle hand. Switching, yeah but he doesn't care enough to begin with. He's too insecure and uncertain of what he is as a person to even understand slipping into a role in the bedroom. Too volatile and what he wants and needs switches depending on his mood and/or partner.

What he is, is a starving man and his partner is the feast.

Poor idiot doesn't even know how to do intimacy properly and has gotten all of his sexual education from someone grooming him, someone paired with him for publicity, and porn.

The dude is lost. What he in bed I feel like boils down to three specific things:

Sadistic - He's a bully, he's mean, he likes watching others suffer in some form or another. (Giving pain play, orgasm denial, edging, forced orgasm, overstimulation)

GGG - Good, game, giving. He'll try anything and be up for whatever as long as his partner is into it. The dude can't be harmed in conventional ways, what's he got to fear?

Attention whore - Craves positive attention in any form (wanting to please his partner, praise kink to the MAX, receiving worship play, demanding attention, bratting, pestering and teasing, topping from the bottom)

-and then how those three things manifest depends wholly on his partner.

With Madelyn Stillwell, he wanted to be her good boy. He craved her praise and affection and he was restrained because she wanted him to be. He's a brat, he's petulent. He's needy. He's picking a fight with a toddler. She's his Mommy Dommy. I suspect she denied and teased Homelander endlessly and he took whatever scraps she gave him because he was starving for it.

With Maeve, they would have been two equals that he was horrifically territorial of. She was his and he had no issues broadcasting that to the world while emotionally intimidating her, but never getting physical. No, she's a god just like him. You can't hurt gods so why would he try?

With Stormfront, she encouraged all of his bad behavior, so Homelander was reckless and hungry. Break shit and fuck like animals, push and pull and playing with their combined strength. They're primal and at war and it's fun.

Soyeah, Homelander is going to fill whatever role suits his partner best. He's going to pay attention to what gets his partner off because he wants that positive response from them. It can be a good thing, or it can lead to the most toxic relationship possible. The man is fucked so it can go sideways fast. You're gonna need a strong constitution, a steel spine, and willpower to survive Homelander at the start else you'll get steamrolled and dropped by the plot like Becca AUGH.

Is it the fear mingled with arousal that gets them all hot and bothered like I imagine poor Hughie would feel with Homelander? Fuck, he's going to exploit that. He's gonna make that twink jump in fright every chance he gets.

What about little Starlight getting a spine and trying to play his game? Yeah, he's going to push those buttons and show her how good he can actually be for her. The gnawing need for the praise from the girl next door would eat him alive.

With Butcher? Scorched earth, baby. They're going to destroy each other in the most toxic, hate-fuck filled fest. Just tearing chunks out of each other to show the other that they can still feel. Raw and painful.

Until Homelander actually figures out who he is without his powers, status, or fame? He's going to play whatever role his partner needs, be that god, perfect gentleman, monster, or sweet boy. Then again, he's all of that and then some at once. He'll want to devour his partner in one moment, consume them wholly and just taketakeTAKE and the next he wants the intimacy that comes with being inside them/them inside him and he's so so so soft and gentle and reverent when he strokes them, and then he's a bastard who wants to twist the knife and make them beg and cry and scream and just tell him what to do, he'd do anything just to know he's loved.

-and anyway, this man is broken and the perfect putty for anyone to mold sexually consciously or subconsciously.

Not a Dom, not a sub, or a switch, but a chameleon.

[gbirrd]

Hi guys! back with another BANG!

It's another piece for the @dpxdcbigbang, and for this one I've paired up with @hailsatanacab for their -frankly, horrifically amazing- fic, Contractual Obligations.

this is one of the best fics I've read in a while- very angsty, very traumatic, but ultimately it's a hurt/comfort. I absolutely recommend if you don't mind the content warnings. And speaking of-

Major warnings for this one, guys.

explicit gore, body horror, medical trauma, post human experimentation- all that good stuff. And for my art, specifically- I'm adding a mild eye strain warning for glitching!

Art under the cut!

as usual, please click onto them for better quality! especially for these which have such minute details (please guys I spent way too long doing the tiny details none of you are gonna glance at)

Image ID:

Image 1:

A full-page panel of Danny's torso. It has been sliced open and the skin, muscles and ribs have all been cut away like in a vivisection to reveal his exposed organs. His sternum is missing and there are 4 metal probes stuck in his heart. the ribs have been cut jaggedly and dig into his lungs. On his right arm, the skin has been removed, showing exposed muscle from his elbow up to his shoulder, with another gash starting just under his elbow. The skin around each wound is purple and black, showing it has been like this for a while. He also has several cuts on his face, and heavy purple-green bruising on his neck and left wrist where restraints would be. There are 5 text boxes: in the top left corner which reads "IT'S TORTURE.", 1 above his left shoulder that says "THERE'S NO OTHER WORD TO DESCRIBE IT." another covers part of his right bicep and reads "AND BEFORE HE CAN DO ANYTHING" the fourth is near the bottom on the right-hand side and says "BEFORE HE CAN SAY ANYTHING". The final text box is in the bottom right corner and reads "DANNY OPENS HIS MOUTH WIDE..." End image ID.

Image 2:

A full-page panel. Danny is in the centre at the bottom of the page, stretching to about halfway up. He is in his Phantom form, head tipped up and backwards in a scream. His eyes glow green and cry ectoplasm. His form is very glitched and fragmented, with his white hair flame-like flowing upwards. Behind him the image is split into five sections. The top-right section details his exposed heart with electrodes stuck in it, bleeding ectoplasm from where they meet the muscle. The top-left is of a gloved doctor's hand, holding a syringe filled with ectoplasm. The bottom-left is a close-up of the exposed muscles of his arm. The bottom-right is of the bruises and track marks on his left arm. the middle-right is of a doctor holding a pair of medical scissors. There is a text box in the bottom corner which reads "...AND SCREAMS." End image ID.

[popculturebuffet]

For a new Disney TVA comparison thing, which villain posession plot was the most messed up:

Dipper posessed by Bill Cipher in Gravity Falls

Ludo posessed by Toffee in Star vs the Forces of Evil

Lena posessed by Magica in DuckTales 2017

Marcy posessed by the Core in Amphibia

Hunter posessed by Belos in Owl House

Oh god I thought this would be hard and it is hard to still rank them as I recover from my cold as their all some degree of fucked up. Unlike last time where there were more gaps. But in terms of which is the most fucked up we're going from least to most

5. Ludo: Ludo's is still bad: Toffee gaslit him, used him and the idea of huge gaps in your memory where somoene else was using you is terrifying. See the part of the book of Bill after he and ford break up. While Wakey Wakey Here's a Snakey is hilarious, it quickly shows just how fucking horrible this can be. It's why the concept of symbiote spider-man is used so much. This idea your body isn't your own and something ELSE is doing things is chilling.

That said Ludo makes bottom for one simple reason: while he was manipulated, unlike the rest of these poor children (Ludo is a manchild but still a children), Ludo.. was a tad stupid, going from being horribly manipulated to... being horribly manipulated by the same person but it's more obvious something's shady. He just takes his wand half at face value and dosen't realize shit is fucked till it's too late and FULLY intends to do villianous take over mewni shit. He's sympathetic: Mewni is deeply racist, Ludo had a bad childhood, but it dosen't excuse him deciding to fix things by... attacking a teenager and gladly following Toffee's suggestion to enslave his fellow monster. Ludo gives not one iota of a shit about the political strife. He hates the opression , but wants to be the opressor rather than fix it. He becomes a better person, but the show makes it clear he had a lot of villianous tendencies to either overcome or redirect first. At the time of season 2 while his situation is horrific and h'es pitable but he dosen't start from mostly innocent like the rest of the victims here.

4. Marcy. A shock the darcy thing is second lowest here, but it shows just what a fucke dup baseline we got: Marcy's situation is monsterous: a hive mind of terrible people taking a child as their meat puppet and thin king their HONORING her by letting her join them. Her screams and transformation haunt me and what the core did is fucking ghastly. It's low.. because she can't see it. They section her away because they assume correctly once she has agency she might break off.. and she does. It's fucked up to use someone's body to attack their friends, raze their home dimension and .. well everything. Everything the core did. The core is a bastard and a l ine of bastards and i'ts good it's stuck far away from where it can hurt people. Marcy's only this low because she at least didn't have to watch.

3. Dipper: Dipper is 3rd because there's no personal angle. Like the core Bill did this out of convience. It USED marcy's body against sasha

The top two both have a LOT of abuse and history caked on top and it' swhy these three are lower: Ludo was convient, Marcy was convient and Dipper just happened to be there. What puts dipper in the middle is that while Bill dosen't have a history of abusing dipper, he still DELIGHTS in using his body, saying creepy shit and generally fucking up his life. He's not going out of his way to do it but he's willing to kill a child once he's done using his body and made sure dipper was good and tired before playing him. There's more direct manipulation, more horrifying intent and more horrifying use. It combines the worst of the previous two: using someone's body aginst their loved ones and being a prisoner of your own body.. but unlike Ludo or Marcy dipper has to watch. Speaking of which

2. Lena: Lena and Hunter easily got the top two as their situations are similar: both were raised by abusive monsters , both seen as more extentions of them than actual beings and both tossed aside when it was convient. Lena gets number 2 becaues it's more personal than the previous ones. While Bill's impersonal plan to kill dipper and ruin his life is dark, Magica KNOWS how badly sh'es treated Lena, Knows how badly this will hurt her.. and snatches away her will the second she won't play ball. The second she can make Lena just a puppet she does and the second she can kill her she does. Lena's trapped and she only doesn't get #1, the poor poor traumtized angel because Belos has all this.. and worse.

BElos: Belos easily one this one. Lena was close.. but it was always going to be belos infecting hunter. It has everything lena has: the long train of abuse, the lack of seeing their prey as a person, the sheer calusouness.. but unlike Magica who gets a few taunts but gets wolverined Belos really gets to mak ea meal of how much he dosen't see hunter as a person. He tries murdering the boy outright "I can always make another", then tosses him aside, THEN has the gaul to choose him as his target for body possesion. The rest were all convience... while Belos has an element of that, and Magica and Bill were cruel monsters, belos CHOOSE Hutner. Choose someone he watched as he slowly recovered from the years of abuse and gaslighting Belos placed on the poor child, saw him happy.. and had no shred of empathy. Magica has the same issue, but Magica dosen't try to claim the high ground. She knows what she is. Dosen't make her good. She's still a piece of shit.. btu Belos TRULY thinks he's helping people and that this is justified. That trying to remake his brother only to kill him countlessly was okay. That using Hunters body is okay. He RELISHES in hurting the hexasquad. He enjoys it. He may claim it's a higher goal.. but stealing hunter was both convient.. and payback on a bunch of children for daring ot defy him an dhis brother for daring to defy him. He lies to himself.. but the ham he shows in the fight shows just how much he truly ENJOYS his horrible "duty"... and tha'ts why he earned it. IT's that perosnal fuck you to someone he horribly abused and a bunch of chidlren he all horribly affected in some way. That callousness.

[mrsprongs]

"Studying"

Pairing: mattheo riddle x reader

Summary: Playful bickering leads to something a little more physical

Warnings: smutty smut smut, swearing, 2am unedited writing

“You’re so horrifically wrong” He glared at me as I accused him of having written an entire herbology essay consisting of complete and utter bullshit. 

“You can’t seriously be that delusional that you truly think you’re right.” “I will go to the library right-” Mattheo silenced me, pressing his thumb against my lips to stop them from moving. Staring straight into his eyes, I opened my mouth slightly and wrapped it around his thumb, sucking at his finger. I watched as the heat in his eyes from the argument morphed into pure lust, darkening as he inserted his index and middle finger. I continued to suck unashamedly as he started to push his fingers deeper down my throat. I gagged around him and he smirked, cocking his head to the side. He slowly removed his fingers, pulling on my bottom lip gently. I smiled up innocently at him and I swear I heard him groan under his breath. 

“You can go if you want.” I shrugged, flipping my book closed. 

“Shut up.” He uttered, voice hoarse as he grabbed my jaw and pulled my lips against his. His calloused hand ran down my neck, then down over my chest and towards my waist, tugging me closer towards him. I planted both hands on his chest firmly and broke the kiss, glancing around the common room to see if the few stragglers hanging about were staring at the free show we just put on. 

“Or….you could come with me back to my dorm.” I whispered, watching him swallow hard before nodding vigorously. Study equipment completely forgotten about, I encircled my hand around his wrist and tugged him behind me down the hallway and into my dorm. 

Inside, with the door charmed shut, I was on top of Mattheo in a second. He was leaning against the headboard of my bed as I straddled his lap, my hands cupping his neck as our lips locked once more, slow and passionate. His lips left mine, instead sucking on my neck, my chest, my jaw, anything he could attach himself to. I opened my mouth to moan from the sensations but found myself unable to, Mattheo having shoved his fingers back into my mouth. Instinctively I began to suck again, his dick getting harder by the second. He looked up at me with lustful eyes as I continued shamelessly. My hand trailed down his torso, lingering over the hard muscles in his stomach, feeling them clench in response to my touch. He pulled his fingers out with a pop as I grabbed the hem of his shirt and tugged it off him, exposing the work of art that was his abs. I dragged my fingers down his stomach again, this time using my nails and leaving red scratch marks behind, feeling myself get even wetter at the sight of them. He could tell by the look in my eyes that I had an idea; that I wanted something from him.

“What is it?” He asked, his hands now squeezing and kneading my breasts roughly. I leant down to whisper in his ear, practically shoving my tits in his face as I did so, reveling in the sound of his breath hitching slightly. 

“I wanna ride your abs.” I tugged at the locks of hair on the nape of his neck, pulling his head back and watching his pupils widen. In an instance we were both completely undressed and I was positioned above him, allowing him to lean back lazily, arms crossed behind his head as he simply enjoyed the view. I whimpered as I slowly dragged my sopping pussy up and down his rigid muscles, every divet and edge grazing my clit in a toe-curling sensation. My hands grasped at his shoulders, steadying myself as I continued. He moved to hold my waist, guiding me and, leant up against the pillows, his lips curved up into a crooked smirk as I moaned his name desperately. His hands kept me from speeding up, forcing me to maintain a brutally slow pace. His torso was slick and his dick ridiculously hard from the sight in front of him; the stuff of his wet dreams. 

“Theo” I choked out, pressing my pussy harder against his rock-solid stomach, my breath hitching at the friction. 

“So fuckin’ pretty” He groaned, staring at me like I was the eighth wonder of the world. Usually I would have blushed and looked away, but I was so fucked out I couldn’t give a crap. My nails were digging into his skin, marking him with a row of crescent moon indents, another thing that got him really going. 

“Oh my god, theo, I’m so close” I cried out as he finally let me go faster. I clenched around nothing as I continued to ride his body, using him to get myself off. He bit his bottom lip, cheeks flushed as he started to moan too. His left hand deserted my waist and desperately gripped on to his own dick, pumping quickly as he jerked off to the sight and feel of me riding his abs.

“Oh fuck Y/N.” He groaned just as my core spasmed and I came all over his skin, continuing to slowly rock myself back and forth on him. He moved his other hand to my tit and squeezed harshly as he moaned loudly, cum shooting out. I leant down to kiss him, both of us still moving in time with one another and coming down from our highs. 

“You’re still wrong though.” I giggled into his neck.

“Get up, we’re going to the library.” 

[theclairvoyage]

Centrifugation: Chapter 2

Series Masterlist

Frazzled after your rough day at the center, you head out to your regular bar with the work crew, and see a familiar face there.

Warnings: brief mentions of violence, alcohol consumption, fluff, allusions to smut, kissing, groping, talks of divorce

WC: 4.3k

Friday, October 15th | 1730

After Joel left, the cops showed up shortly after and you gave your statement.  They assured you if Cedric returned, he would be arrested.  Trina permanently deferred him in the system, preventing him from checking in.  You felt some relief at that but were concerned about him waiting for you in the parking lot after your shift.  Keri offers to walk you to your car after you both clock out.

“Love, today was rough… so fucking glad it’s Friday.  Want to grab a drink?”  she asks.  You nod fervently, the idea of a cold beer immediately resurrecting you from the depths of this terrible day.

“McKinney’s?” you offer. 

She smiles brightly and nods in agreement. “I’ll come get you.  Just text me when you’re ready.”

McKinney’s is a local Irish dive bar, and the plasma center staff are regulars.  The bartenders are awesome, drinks are dirt cheap, and horrific karaoke is every Friday.

Once you get to your apartment, you take a hot, hot shower, rubbing off the stress and sweat from the day.  You think about Joel’s soft touch and how comforting he was.  You also think about the way he looked at you, causing arousal to pool in your lower belly.  No time to feen over a stranger, you think, washing the premature fantasy out of your mind.

You do a quick towel dry and style your hair, throw on some low-rise jeans that hug your ass, and a skintight black shirt that’s not quite cropped, not quite full-length.  You put on bare-minimum makeup, spray on some of your favorite musky perfume, step into some sandals, and give yourself a quick mirror check.  Your hipbones are peeking out between the bottom of your shirt and the top of your jeans.  The black shirt dips down low enough to show your collarbones and part of your shoulders.  You’re glowing, which is surprising, given the shitty day you had.  You’re not dressed overtly sexy, but you know how the men at the dive bar will react to a little skin and curves.  Fuck it.  Nothing wrong with a little attention.  You grab your phone and text Keri that you’re ready.

Keri: Sounds good.  I’ll be there in 10.

You open the fridge and grab some small Fireball shooters for the drive.  Not long thereafter, you hear Keri’s honk outside the building.  Keri prefers to drive when you two have outings, which you don’t mind at all.  She’s got a nice house in the Benson area, not too far from work or from your apartment.  She’s divorced and about 10 years your senior.  The two of you have always clicked, and you enjoy spending time with her in and outside of work.

You: Bet. Shooters engaged.

You trot to her car, holding up the shooters and grinning once she’s in view.  She grimaces.  You hop in and crack the shooters open, clink yours against hers and take the shot, the spicy cinnamon liquor trickling down your throat, burning as it travels down the ridges. 

“Ready to get your drank on, bitch?” Keri coughs, and you both cackle.

Shortly thereafter, you arrive at McKinney’s.  The parking lot is jam-packed, meaning you’ll probably have a smorgasbord of awful karaoke singers lining up.  You walk in and take your usual spots at the bar, facing the karaoke stage.  One of your favorite bartenders, Jessica, greets you and Keri.  “Hey, ladies.  Heard there was a ruckus at the plasma center today,” she says, motioning over at Blake and some other employees at one of the tables by the stage, who wave at you both.  You both laugh and wave back.  “Jess, it was fucking nuts.  This one here about got hep C.  Cops got called and everything,” Keri says.

“Jesus… well, the first round’s on me.  Sorry you had to deal with that,” Jess says, bringing over a pitcher of Busch Light.  Not your favorite, but when pitchers are $5, it’s hard to pass up.  Keri pours you both a glass and you clink them together before taking a big swig.

You both join the table with the rest of the employees, putting some tables together and chatting.  You get up to go to the bathroom.  On your way back, you stop by the bar and ask Jess for a couple more pitchers.  She obliges, and you wait at the bar while she fills them up.

“Hey, darlin’.  Can’t imagine why you’d be here on a night like this,” a deep Southern drawl croons in your ear, coating your name in velvet.  You freeze and look behind you to see Joel.  He’s swapped his red flannel for a blue one that hugs his biceps and traps, along with some black jeans and boots.  His hair is slicked back, showing off gray stripes that wrap the front and sides of his face.  What enraptures you most, however, is his scent that you somehow failed to notice earlier today.  He smells of sandalwood and bourbon, spicy and musky at the same time.  You figure it’s probably time to respond to him when you see him smirk and raise his eyebrows at you.

“Hi, Joel!  What are you doing here?”  You say, attempting to stop drooling over him.  Luckily for you, though, he’s making no attempt to stop staring at you.  He takes you in, looking at you from head to toe with that strange look in his eyes you’ve seen for the third time today.  Your stomach does a few back handsprings.  Those low riders that hug your ass were a great idea.

“Keri told me today this is where the cool people in Omaha hang out at, so it’s only natural that I stop by,” he says, grinning at you.  You giggle and lightly smack his arm, the liquid courage giving you balls you thought you never had.  Now it makes sense why Keri suggested you go here this evening.

“Are you doin’ better, sweetheart?  Know today was rough for ya,” he asks, his gaze on you now tender.  Warmth washes over you and you smile at him, putting a hand on his chest.  Joel feels a soft burn where your hand lies and worries you can feel his heart palpitate underneath your fingertips.

“Yes, much better.  I wanted to say thank you for being there for me.  It meant a lot to me,” you say, watching his cheeks curl into a soft smile and a blush creeping up his neck.  Still feeling ballsy, you ask if he wants to sit at the bar or join the group.

“Doesn’t matter to me, darlin’.  You lead the way,” he hums.  You decide you want to spend some alone time with Joel for a bit before returning to the group.  “Sit here,” you say, gesturing to two stools at the bar.  “I’ll drop these pitchers off and come back.”  He nods and half-sits on one of the stools.  You hoist the pitchers and walk over to the table, making sure to swing your hips just in case he’s watching.

Keri grins at you.  You give her a smirk.  “I see what you did there, Ker,” you giggle.  She shrugs, taking a sip of beer.  “Not sure what you’re talking about, girl!”  Uh huh.  You roll your eyes as you drop the pitchers off and return to the bar.

Joel watches you walk back, that half-smile plastered on his face and his eyes flashing black as they travel up and down your body.  You hop up on the bar stool and give him a quizzical look.  “What are you staring at, cowboy?”

“The prettiest woman I’ve seen since I’ve been in Omaha… maybe even ever,” he says in a low voice, getting closer to your ear.  The small hairs on your ear prick up, like his voice is their magnet.  You feel tingles travel down your neck and spine, landing at your core, and clamp your legs together.  Fuuuuck.  He continues, “I feel like I’ve known you a long time… I feel crazy sayin’ that knowin’ damn well we just met today.”

“I feel the same way,” you say, “It really hit me today when we were at the picnic table.”  He nods in agreement.  You stare at each other, and time stops for a moment.  The bar is buzzing, but all you can see and hear is Joel, and he you.  Hopefully this isn’t just the booze and a bad day.

The karaoke host gets on the mic and taps it a few times to let the patrons know karaoke is starting soon.  People travel up to him to put their names in the queue, including some people from your work group.

Joel puts an arm around your shoulders, lightly rubbing the skin on your arm.  “You want somethin’ else to drink?” You turn to him and nod, noticing he’s got a glass of what appears to be whiskey.  He calls Jess over and you order a Dos Equis Ambar.

“Beer girl, huh?” he chuckles.

“Love my beer.  I’ll drink just about anything, though… except whiskey,” you scrunch your nose at his drink, and he laughs.

“It’s not that bad.  Tough thing like you could down it, easily,” he jokes, squeezing your shoulder playfully.  “Here, take a sip and see what ya think.”  You pick up the glass and look down at it, grimacing from the smell.

“So… how do I do this? The expert way of course,” You ask.  One side of his mouth curls up in a smirk.

“Take a smaller sip and swish it ‘round your mouth to get the flavors.  I warn ya, it’s gonna burn a lil’ bit,” he cautions.  You do as he says, trying not to make a face at the sting on your tongue and cheeks.  You taste nothing but pure, smoky alcohol.  He guffaws.

“That’s gotta be straight ethanol with some food dye,” you grimace, smacking your lips a few times and wash the whiskey down with a sip of your beer.  “My tongue is on fire!”

“Told ya.  Just gotta get used t’it,” he says, taking a sip and swishing it around like a champ.

As karaoke starts, you both fall in a comfortable rhythm of conversing and getting to know each other.  You talk about growing up here in Omaha, going to Lincoln, Nebraska for college, and coming back to be close to your family.  Joel talks about growing up in Austin, Texas, and his successful contracting business he runs with his brother, Tommy.  He tells you about his 18-year-old daughter, Sarah, who’s in college in Lincoln, Nebraska at your alma mater, hence the move to Omaha.  He divorced shortly after she was born and has been virtually single since.

“What about you?  Smart, beautiful girl like you gotta be single because she wants to be, not ‘cause she’s short on options,” Joel says, the arm that was around your shoulders earlier traversing across your back, now resting on your opposite thigh.  You look at him wistfully.

“Something like that.  It’s kinda hard for me to connect with people in that way.  I’m… exclusive with my time and energy, I guess.  I just value my alone time and time with my friends,” You say honestly, hoping that doesn’t throw him off.  You really haven’t had a lot of serious relationships and have always preferred being by yourself.  Sure, you had a lot of flings in college, but nobody you wanted to take the next step with.

“I understand.  Seems like a good way to live, if ya ask me.  Can’t be givin’ everybody your time.  I learned that the hard way,” he says, looking away from you, his big, brown eyes shaded in amber melancholy.

“What happened?  If you don’t mind me asking,” you ask, putting your hand on his leg and squeezing lightly.  He reciprocates.

“We had Sarah so young, marriage just seemed like the right thing to do next.  Turns out neither of us was ready nor mature enough for that.  She wanted to go out and be with other men, and I just wanted to raise my daughter and try and make a livin’,” he says, a sad smile playing on his lips.  “Everythin’ happened for a reason, though, can’t say I regret any of it.”  You look him in the eyes and give him a sympathetic smile.  The way he looks at you is so soft, so tender.  Your heart jumps up and down.

“I bet you’re a great dad, I’m sure Sarah appreciates everything you do,” you say, giving him another squeeze.  He turns to look at you, eyes blazing with fondness.

“If you’re interested, I’d like you to meet her.  She’ll be coming up on weekends here and there during school since it’s only an hour away from here.  Oh, and I’d love for you to meet my brother, Tommy.  We expanded the business to some parts of the Midwest, so he and his wife moved up here, too.”

“Wow, that’s great… you guys must’ve made all the right business moves.  I’d love to meet them,” you say, impressed by him.  He snorts.

“Wasn’t always like that.  Our pops helped us out a lot early on… two reckless twenty-something men starting a contracting business with no damn idea how to do it.  We knew how to do the work, but managin’ it is a whole different ballgame.  Plus, I was a single dad not long after we started.  Lotta late nights and caffeine.  We did alright, though.  Got offices in Austin and Dallas, Kansas City, and now Omaha.”  He says, running fingers through his silvery hair.  You feel yourself grinning at him.

This can’t be real, you think.  I just met this man today and already feel so connected to him.  Your face must match your deep thinking, because he asks you if everything is alright.

“Yes, absolutely,” you say, because it is.  His eyes flicker over your face with quiet adoration.  You admire his beard and how his mustache is dark brown, but the hairs littered on his chin and jaw are almost all-white.  You swear you see him lean in ever so slightly and turn nervously to take a sip of your beer.

Karaoke stops for the night, and the jukebox starts playing Eric Claptons’ Wonderful Tonight.  Joel stands from the stool and holds his hand out.  “Wanna dance, pretty girl?”

You blush and take his big, warm hand.  “Of course.”

He leads you out to the dance floor, where most patrons have gathered to sway to the music with someone.  He holds your right hand with his left and pulls you close to him with his right, wrapping his arm around your waist.  You lie your head on his shoulder and let yourself melt into him, wrapping your free arm around his upper back and taking in his scent.  He feels so safe, so strong, so firm.  You could stand here with him forever.

“You know, every man in here wants you, darlin’,” he whispers in your ear.  He feels your smirk on his shoulder.

“Every man?” You ask, taking your head off his shoulder to look him in the eyes.  He knows exactly what you’re asking.  You’re taken aback at how much desire his eyes hold, looking at you like you really are the prettiest woman he’s ever seen.

“Every man,” he whispers.  You’re not sure when he got so close, but you can feel his warm, whiskey-coated breath on your face and your heart starts thumping quickly in your chest.

“I don’t wanna overstep, but I really wanna kiss you,” he says, his eyes traveling from your eyes to your lips and back.  Your heart feels like it’s running hurdles over your ribs, down to the pit of your stomach.

“Please do,” you whisper back, licking your lips.

Time seems to pause indefinitely when he leans in and presses his lips to yours.  His lips are smooth, a lovely contrast from the coarse hair on his beard tickling your skin.  He tastes like whiskey and coffee, and he thinks you taste like beer and heaven.  The kiss is slow and gentle at first, like he’s asking for permission.  You deepen the kiss, lightly nibbling his lower lip and reaching up to tug on his curls.  He groans at that, making your core ignite.  He licks into your mouth and your tongues dance along with the music.  Both of his arms are now wrapped around you, his big hands lightly pulling up the hem of your shirt to feel warm skin near the waistband of your jeans.  He moves his hands up further under your shirt, learning the planes of your back and delighting in the softness of your skin.  The heat of his hands and your growing desire is almost too much, and you have an urging need to cool off before you explode into oblivion.  You both pull away after who knows how long and look each other in the eyes, four pupils jam-packed with lust.

“Wanna step outside?  It’s a little… hot,” you say, still pressed closely to him, and he chuckles while nodding.  He takes your hand and leads you to the outdoor patio, where some torches are lit and the music from inside is playing faintly.  The fall air whistles as it swoops over you, giving you goosebumps.  It’s dimly lit out here, but bright enough that you can see each other in the torch light, the flames dancing playfully over each of your faces.

“Can’t say I’ve ever felt so good from a kiss, darlin’,” Joel says, pulling you into him.  You smash your lips against his like you never stopped.  One of his hands travels to the back of your head, fingers lightly massaging your scalp; the other hand smoothing down your back until he reaches your ass.  A low growl emits from his chest, and you let out a faint moan as he squeezes.  Your hands both find home in his slicked, curly hair, tugging a bit and earning you another growl from Joel.  You know you’re soaked right now, and you can feel his hardening length poking into your lower stomach.

Normally, you would pull back and distance yourself from someone you’ve only known for less than a day, but something about this man has you seeing stars, clouds, and other celestial bodies.  Nothing has ever felt so natural or in sync for you.  He must think so, too, as he breaks the kiss to nip down your jaw and neck, soothing the little bites with his tongue afterwards.  You moan and feel him grip you tighter in response.

“God, ‘m never gonna forget that beautiful sound,” he hums into your neck, sending you reeling.  He licks over to the other side of your neck and kisses his way back up your jaw, back to your ear, where he pulls at the lobe gently with his teeth and sucks it back into his mouth.  You suck in a sharp breath and giggle, knowing that you’ve just given away two of your favorite spots to him.  He chuckles and continues kissing your neck, jaw, collarbone, and ears, simultaneously scratching your smooth skin with his facial hair.  Your skin tastes like vanilla and tangerine, and he marvels at how soft you are and relishes in the sounds he’s pulling from your lips.  “Fuck, Joel,” you whine, “that feels so good.”

“You taste so good, baby,” he says and returns his mouth to yours, hands roaming all over your body but careful to not overstep boundaries.  Your hands do the same, but you both make sure you’re still pressed up as close to each other as possible.  You can feel his rock-hard cock ready to burst through the fabric of his jeans and your wetness pooling in your underwear, threatening to trickle down your thighs.

He pulls away briefly and groans, a look of near-despair clouding his amber eyes.  “I want you so fuckin’ bad, but I wanna do this right.”  You nod in agreement.  Snapshots of Joel taking your clothes off and running his hands and tongue all over your body are racing through your mind, but you know he’s right.  He’s got the same visions of you in his mind and wants nothing more than to make you feel good – physically and emotionally.

“Not like we need to rush anything,” you say, looking up at him.  His smile is so saccharine, and he leans in to kiss you softly on the lips.

“Got nothin’ but time, sweetheart.”  He holds you in his arms for a moment, and the door leading to the patio swings open with a squeak.  Loud music and warbled voices invade your space momentarily before the door shuts.  You look up and see Keri grinning ear to ear.

“See?  I told you you wouldn’t regret coming here, Joel,” she says, pursing her lips at the two of you as she brings her beer up for a sip.  You stick your tongue out and she giggles, turning to go back inside.

Your gurgling stomach makes its entrance, interrupting your sweet moment with Joel.  He chuckles, “Sweetheart, do you wanna go get something to eat?  It’s gettin’ late, and I know you had a long day,” he says, his hands crossing up your back and coming to land on your shoulders.  You hadn’t noticed until now that your stomach felt tense, like you had a hole in it that food needed to fill.  “Probably a good idea… I must’ve forgotten to eat after I left the center today,” you say, rubbing your stomach lightly.  You check your watch.  12:53 am.  Not too late, but the events of the day are starting to drag your body down into the depths of fatigue.  He cups your jaw with both hands and places a chaste kiss on your forehead. 

“Let’s go, then, and I’ll take you home.  Where d’ya wanna go?”  He asks, eyes shifting between yours.  You think of all the places that would be open right now, deciding that something quick and greasy is probably the only option.  You shrug.

“You’re the local, you be the guide,” he says, releasing you from his embrace and taking your hand.  He leads you inside and stops at your work table so you can say goodbye.  You wave at everyone and give Keri a quick hug.  “You let me know when you get home, alright hon’?”  She says, giving you a quick peck on the cheek.  “Yes ma’am, you got it,” you say, hugging her tightly.

You two leave hand in hand and walk to Joel’s black pickup, which looks very expensive and very new.  You attempt to open the passenger door and he stops you.  You raise an eyebrow and give him a confused look.  “Sweetheart, I’m a Southern gentleman,” he trills, opening the door for you and ushering you in with a hand on your lower back.  You smirk and feel the liquid courage bubbling up again.  “Oh yeah?  In more ways than one?”  His eyes flash with desire, moving up and down your frame as you get comfortable in the passenger seat.

“Don’t get me started on all the ways,” he says, voice deep and eyes fixated on yours.  You feel your neck and cheeks heat.  This is gonna be tough.  Joel shuts your door and trots over to the driver’s side.  He pulls out of the parking lot, his free hand reaching over the center console to lace his fingers with yours.  “Decide what you want?”

“I’m thinking classic McDonald’s… I’m a cheap date,” you say, squeezing his hand.  He laughs.

“We’ll see how long that lasts, darlin’… I gotta take you out for a real date soon,” he grins.  Your stomach flips at the thought of going on a real date with Joel.

After you go through the McDonald’s drive through, Joel heads to your place to drop you off.  He approaches the entrance to your building and puts the truck in park.

“Do you want to come in?” You ask.  He gives you a look, almost pained.  “Sure, darlin’.  No funny business, I promise,” he responds.  You tilt your head at him, amused.  “Not sure if we have the same definition of that phrase, but you’re about to find out,” you say, smirking.  He scoffs and moves the truck to a parking spot.

You enter the building and head to your door at the end of the first floor.  Hopefully it’s clean, you think.  You can’t remember the last time a man came over.  You pop in your code and open the door, Joel holding the door beside you.  You set your purse and keys on the kitchen counter and watch Joel’s eyes examine the place.  He looks at the pictures of you and your friends and family hung on the walls.

“Clearly, you’ve always been gorgeous,” he says, pointing to a picture from your 8th grade graduation.  Braces and all.  You smack his arm playfully.  “Shut it.  We can’t all be sexy-cowboy-chico-suave like you,” you gripe, making him burst out laughing.  “Never heard that one before darlin’, but sexy doesn’t cover you,” he says, eyes traveling up and down your frame.  He takes two big steps toward you.  “So, what’s your definition of funny business?” he asks, finger tipping your chin up to look at him.  You smirk and lead him to the couch, grabbing the remote and turning the TV on.

“You’re really gonna regret coming over here,” you giggle, pulling up Hulu.  You scroll down to continue watching The Golden Girls.  Joel groans playfully.  “Yeah… we definitely have different definitions of that word,” he says, putting his arm around you and kicking his feet up as you snuggle into him.

taglist: @burntheedges <3

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(Decided to write some fluff after all the angst :) have these dorks using their fruit trees to their advantage! Also, this is set in the streamer Enid au.)

"Do'ya think you could... not?"

"You wanted this," Wednesday says, stepping just slightly harder on Enid's shoulders. "You need to learn to deal with the consequences of your actions, Dear."

"Willaaaaaa..."

"Got it." Wednesday calls, "you can put me down now."

Enid considers just leaning back and letting her fall, but not only is she a human, breakable and frail, she's also carrying all their gathered fruits.

If she made Wednesday spill them, she would be sleeping on the couch for a while.

She lowers herself so Wednesday can hop off, back onto the soild ground.

"Okay," the tiny woman adorable holding the basket on her arm like a purse. The basket hangs low on Enid's arm, the gap from the basket itself to the handle is mostly filled by the bulk of her muscles.

But Wednesday is tiny.

The bottom of the basket almost lines up with the goth's knees.

"That's enough apples, citrus fruits, and grapes for a while." Wednesday sets the basket down carefully, taking care to not drop the grapes.

"Why can't we just pay someone to get them for us? We have the money..." Enid doesn't whine.

Enid doesn't whine.

She didn't.

"Stop whining," Wednesday blunts, "you're the one who wanted to grow and pick our own goods. Something, something... farmcore?"

"Yeah!" Enid cheers. Sticks her arms up. "We're farmcore lesbians!"

"Why are you whining if it's a good thing, then?"

Enid's face and arms drop right as the pass the entrance of the apple tree section. Wednesday insisted that they mark everything properly, but it hardly helps when Enid chased after squirrels and domestic dogs.

"'Cause that was before I knew I'd work in the burning sun with a gothic lesbian on my shoulders!" Enid huffs. Crosses her arms. She doesn't pout. She doesn't.

Their almost at the door to their house now.

It's their home.

Wednesday smiles, if only barely.

"First off, the sun is not burning, it's autumn, and the sun has almost completely set."

Wednesday motions for Enid to open the door, her arms full of baskets.

"Second off," she steps in after the werewolf does a dorky bow, murmuring a low 'ladies first,' "I'm 5'1 and 110 pounds. I regularly see you lift 230, if not more-"

"Yeah, but 230 pounds of weights don't dig boot heels into my shoulders!"

"-and thirdly," she continues, ignoring her wife's complaints "I'm Enidsexual, not a lesbian."

"Awww, Willa!" Enid makes a show of wiping tears away.

Her finger move away from her eyes completely dry.

"You do love me!"

"Of course I love you, you wouldn't be alive if I didn't."

Enid giggles as Wednesday sets the baskets down in the kitchen. The counter has paint marks from when Enid tried and horrifically failed to make a pretty colored glass jar.

Wednesday uses the jar to store spices. It's her favorite.

She pre-heats the oven. 350.

She grabs a knife, a cutting board, sets them down. Enid's gone upstairs to tie her hair back. She washes the apples first, set on peeling them.

Just as she sets the first apple down, a bowl next to her, she hears quick footsteps desend from the stairs.

"Willa, Willa look- look!"

Wednesday huffs, sets the apple and knife, and walks into the living room.

Enid's standing in the middle of the room, grinning.

"What is it?"

Enid points at the mirror.

("So you can see yourself and how fine you are!" Enid giggled, displaying the reflective glass. The top half of the frame is hot pink, the bottom jet black.

Wednesday sometimes uses it to makes sure she's presentable before she leaves.

She uses it mostly to steal looks at Enid before the werewolf notices.

She usually gets caught.)

"It's a mirror."

"I- yeah!" Enid's grin turns teasing, "that is a mirror." She babytalks. "Good job, Wendy!"

"Call me "Wendy" again, and you'll be turned into a square burger patty."

Wednesday crosses her arms but still gets next to Enid, looking in the mirror.

"Look." They stand side by side.

Enid's a good head and then some taller than Wednesday. It used to embarrass her, back in Nevermore. Having to ask the roommate she had an infatuation with to get a book from the too-high shelf was a different level of embarrassment.

"Me," Enid points at herself in the mirror. Her hair is tied back, showing off her scars. Bright eyes.

Wednesday would die for her.

Enid's finger moves to point at Wednesday's reflection.

"And the bad bitch I pulled by being silly and goofy and whimsical."

She supposes Enid is willing to die because of her, saying imbecilic things like that.

"I want a divorce." Wednesday walks back into the kitchen, arms still crossed.

"No, you- no you don't!" Enid jogs after her, she gets into the kitchen right as Wednesday grabs her knife and apple again.

"You could never find someone with this much whimsy! Or a face this cute!"

"Hmm. Are you implying I only married you for your face, Sinclair?"

"Woah," Enid puts her hands put like theres a gun pointed at her. "Bringing out the old last names? Cold-hearted, Addams!"

"You knew you were marrying a cold-blooded woman, Honey. Now, quit messing around and help get the fruit prepped."

"This environment doesn't have enough enrichment for me," Enid pouts, grabbing another cutting board and knife.

"How am I supposed to live, laugh, love in these conditions?"

"Quiet."

They sit in a comfortable silence. Enid washes and peels the apples, hands them to Wednesday, Wednesday cuts them into slice, then sits them in a pan.

She adds water, sugar, cinnamon. She sets it to medium and stirs.

She stirs random patterns.

A figure-8.

A circle.

An x.

A W.

A plus.

An E.

"Here," there's a hand in her peripheral-vision. "Let me. I like stirring things." Enid smiles softly, takes the wooded spoon from her hands.

"And what do you suggest I do? Twiddle my thumbs?"

"Hmmm," Enid stares into the mixture in the pan. She stirs. "You could sit on the chair and look pretty. Looking at your lovely face would be much better than looking at this."

"Are you saying my creations aren't gorgeous enough to blind you?"

"Look," Enid sets ths spoon aside and grabs a lid. She sets it on the pan, "all I'm saying is- you're not the only who married purely for looks."

"Huh."

They have a staring contest. Enid's never been good at holding her eyes open.

She loses.

"You can start working on the pie dough? I'll go start the fireplace."

Wednesday nods once, grabs what she needs from the closet, and starts on the dough.

This is her life. She lives with her wife, in their house, on their land.

She works on the dough, kneading it while she hears Enid grab logs from the basket they sit in.

Despite their fake bicker and faker upset, she pokes her head past the wall of the kitchen to sneak a peek at Enid.

Her heart catches in her throat when, not only is Enid staring right at her, but Enid is flexing her arms.

"Like what you see?" She teases

"Idiot," she turns back to the dough, hiding her blush. "You are so dumb."

"And yet you love me!" Enid calls back. She can hear Enid place a log into the fireplace. Another. Then another. A fourth. One more log, than she hears Enid grab the lighter.

She hears Enid swear when it doesn't start.

"Willlaaaaaa..."

"Bring it here."

Enid enters the kitchen blushing, and hands Wednesday the lighter with a pathetically pitiful downcast face.

Wednesday lights it on her first try.

"'S'not fair." She hands Enid the lit lighter.

She sets the most of the dough in the pie tin, grabs the filling, and pours most in. She pours the rest in jar, seals it and puts it in the refrigerator.

"I got the fire goin'!"

"Good." Wednesday sets the rest of the dough over the top, cuts line into it for ventilation, than sets it carefully into the hot oven. "Mind getting hot water for tea and coffee ready?"

"Sure!" Enid prances into the kitchen, grabs a kettle and fills it with water.

She sets it on the stove and starts it.

Wednesday washes her hands and nails free of bits of dough and flour and apple and orange and lemon peels.

She's cooking. In their home.

She turns and sees her wife's back to her. She loves this woman.

"Hey, can we watch that new K-drama episode? Yoko got to watch it earlier and if she spoils it I'll-" Enid turns her entire body to face Wednesday and when she does, Wednesday bruies her face in Enid's chest. Hugs her.

"Oh!"

Enid stays stiff for a moment, schocked, and carefully, slowly wraps her arms around the smaller.

"I love the affection," Enid starts, "but you don't usually start the lovin'. Somethin' wrong?"

"I love you. It just... smacked me. How much love I hold in my heart for you."

Enid smiles softly and warmly, Wednesday wonders if she somehow stole the essence of the fire burning in their home and stuck it in her face.

Enid kisses the top of her head.

"Love you too, babycakes."

They sit for a moment. Holding each other.

"The water's ready."

"Good." Wednesday pulls from the hug and turns the stone off. "Get our mugs?"

"'Course, Wednesday."

Enid grabs their mugs from the high shelf, she places them down gingerly.

"I'll be right back."

"Alright."

Wednesday leaves the kitchen and climbs the stairs, entering their shared bedroom.

She goes to the bottom shelf of her dresser (they needed separate ones, she loves Enid but if she has to see a bright yellow dress that says house on it next to her black dress-shirts she'll kill someone.) and grabs the fabrics she came for. She sticks them in her hoodie pockets.

When she gets back down stairs, Enid's all wrapped in a big blanket, her mug in her hands, Wednesday's on the ground next to her. It's big enough to cover their couch 3 timss over.

They use it strictly for cuddles.

Enid's stupid mug that Wednesday got her that she swears is the only one she'll use till she's dead has a chip in the handle. She dropped it and it broke and Ajax, bless him, offered to fix it.

There never found the missing piece.

Wednesday got her mug from Enid. A soild black mug that fits just right in her hands. It has a color changing sun on both sides. It's heat activated.

There's a black coffee in her mug, and Enid's has her apple-citrus tea.

"I'm going to check on the pie."

"Okay."

It's done when Wednesday opens the door. She pulls it out, and sets it to cool.

"It's done, Darling."

"Yay!"

Wednesday walks into the living room, and sits on the floor, grabs her mug, and cocoons herself. She presses into her human-heater.

She's warm.

"Why'd you go upstairs a minute ago?"

"Oh." She swallows. "These."

She reaches into her hoodie pockets and pulls out the clothing.

Enid gasps and puts her hands over her mouth.

"Our snoods!" She grabs hers carefully and puts it on swiftly. "I thought we lost these."

"I hid them. I meant to throw them away but they mean a lot to you and-"

"So they mean just as much to you?" Enid grins at her.

Clever little shit.

"... Yes. I wanted to throw them but i thought about how that would make you feel. I couldn't show you that I-" she fakes a shudder "-love you. If someone saw me wearing this I'd think I mellowed out."

"You have mellowed out." Enid takes her hands tenderly. "For me."

Wednesday blushes and stares intensely at her tea.

"I have a reputation."

Enid grins. Sharp toothed.

"I think the pies cooled."

"Get it yourself, traitor."

"Fine, fine. Guess you'll just be cold and alone in these blankets then."

"Guess I will."

Enid gets two plates down from the cupboard. A knife from the drawer. She pushes it closed with a hip press. She cuts two slices, one for herself and one for Wednesday.

Wednesday's piece totally isn't ever so slightly smaller. Nuh-uh.

She returns to the living room carrying their food.

"Ta-da!"

It's only once they're both situated on the floor, warmed from each other and the fireplace and the blanket does Wednesday speak.

"Enid?

"Yeah?"

"Where are the forks."

Enid looks at her plate. Then at Wednesday's.

"Fuck."

"I'll get them."

"Noooooo," Enid wraps her arm around her love, "I'm cozy!"

"I'm not dealing with sticky fingers," the shorter speaks. "A few seconds without me or no pie?"

"..."

"..."

"Be quick."

She pats her wife's shoulder mockingly. "That's what I thought."

.

.

.

It's only once the moon just barely rises do they call it a night.

The pie has been eaten, they enjoyed their drinks, they watched Enid's K-drama so Yoko couldn't spoil it.

They're in bed.

Wednesday let her hair down. Enid plays with it, braiding and unbraiding it endlessly.

"Enid?"

"Yes my sweet, darling Willa?"

"I... I love you. I love you and I fear sometimes I don't say it enough."

Enid grabs her by the shoulder and flips her over. It's fast and makes her neck creak uncomfortably.

"You say it plenty. You could say it once a month and it'd be enough. You sh- you love through actions more than words." Enid laughs softly. "Ironic for such a writer."

"I like saying it more than once a month."

"I like hearing it more than once a month."

A kiss.

"And love you just as much, my Raven."

"Goodnight, Enid."

"Goodnight, Willa."

THE THINGS WENCLAIR DOES TO ME MAN, OMLLLL. ITS SO GOOD WRITER ANON, TY AGAINNNN

im currently in a dnd session so im kinda too busy to write BUT, have this lil snippet

--

"ya'know what i realized, willa?" Enid murmurs to the dark.

Wednesday doesn't shift, but she keeps talking anyway.

"I think i'm the villager and you're the farmer in stardew valley."

Finally, that got a reaction.

"what?" Enid gives herself a mental pat to the back. Win to her for being able to make her one and lovely Wednesday sound shocked. Heh, adorable.

"it makes sense!" she continues. "you come into the farm, you give me gifts and we're married. Sounds like a regular run, no?"

Wednesday shifts, turning to Enid with a confused and lightly said What.

"what are you talking about?" she wonders and Enid gives a light kiss to her wife's forehead before snuggling under the sheets and closing her eyes.

"Enid?" wednesday asks.

"enid??"