#like the idea of almost any teenager much less teenage boys

[reasonsforhope]

Sometimes you just have one of those moments where the progress we've made as a culture get thrown into stark relief. You look at something and go "Holy shit, that would never have happened when I was a kid."

Today, I had one of those moments when I realized that the teenage boys I'm working with are just. genuinely, openly enthusiastic about going to Build-a-Bear for their outing.

These are sixteen and seventeen year old boys! They just had a whole conversation about what to name their "cute", mostly new squishmallows! They're genuinely excited that they're going to Build-a-Bear this weekend and asking other kids to pick up specific accessories for them!!

Holy shit, that never would've happened when I was 16. None of the boys would have dared to be visibly interested - and neither would most of the girls! There would have been a million gay jokes and "Haha, you're a girl" jokes and "What are you, a baby?" jokes. Teenagers weren't even supposed to care about anything back then!

Less than 15 years later, and I'm watching three 17 year old boys treat all that as not even worthy of comment.

So let's call that a reason for hope. Even when the kids aren't alright, in some ways apparently they are alright. Go Gen Z, honestly. It's so lovely to watch you guys just openly doing and saying stuff that, when I was a teen, would've been a social death sentence.

[awearywritersworld]

i have for the first time found what i can truly love—i have found you

sukuna x reader summary: you and sukuna go out for a late night meal. gojo finds out about your... relationship. sukuna is forced to take care of you when you come home drunk. w/c: 2.85k tags/warnings: enemies to lovers. fluff. lots of banter. cursing. jealous/protective!sukuna. gojo being a flirt. aged up!yuuji. features a teeny bit of yuuji x reader. drinking and drunk!reader. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. no manga spoilers. a/n: i think i like how this turned out! also, the first two sections could def be read as a fluffy lil stand alone. idc whats happening in the canonverse, sukunas just a tsundere who adores us very much<3 series masterlist // masterlist

"maybe if you stare long enough, food will magically appear," sukuna calls to you from the kitchen table.

"this is no joking matter," you scold from your place in front of the fridge. "i'm starving."

"well, here's an absurd idea— let's go eat."

you turn toward him, finally closing the fridge, and tilt your head to the side. "you eat?"

"of course." he leans back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. "i typically prefer babies, but hell, i'd even go for an old man right now. i'm famished."

your eyes widen and your mouth falls open. he lets the panic simmer on your face for a few more cruel moments. "i'm kidding, idiot. i eat food, same as you."

"i knew that," you assert. the way your shoulders sag in relief tells him otherwise.

"right," he smirks. after standing up, he grabs your purse and tosses it in your direction. "where to? you're buying."

with only so many places open at midnight, you begin your journey to a 24 hour ramen shop.

you've hardly interacted with sukuna outside of your apartment, so this is certainly an experience you didn't anticipate. and in fact, you're shocked at how normal it feels— almost as if it's a date.

as you walk down the street, people eye him suspiciously because of the dark lines they assume are tattoos. it doesn't bother you though, nor does the lateness of the hour. you know that you're safe because you're with him.

your hands keep brushing against one another's, and you're hoping that he'll eventually take a hint and reach for yours. he doesn't (i mean come on, do you even know who you're dealing with?).

he does at least pick up on your pouty expression with impressive ease. "what now?"

"nothing," you huff.

"don't be a brat."

you sigh dramatically. "you're supposed to hold my hand."

"sure princess," he says condescendingly, lacing his fingers through yours. "maybe use your words next time like a big girl."

he doesn't fail to notice the ensuing skip in your step, and he kicks himself for regarding it as cute.

when you arrive at the ramen shop, sukuna orders no less than three bowls, which earns him a glare once the waitress walks away.

"when i agreed to pay, i didn't know what a glutton you are."

"oh yeah? cause i'm just the picture of temperance any other time?"

you scoff. "well you've got me there."

a sly smirk settles onto his face before he speaks again. "maybe one day you'll learn how greedy i am when it comes to the things i've deemed pleasurable."

you choke on the water you'd just brought to your lips, your face heating up as if it'd been bathed by fire.

wiping at your mouth, you try your best to recover quickly. "whatever, you hellion. as long as that doesn't involve a fourth bowl of ramen."

you're no more than 10 steps away from the shop when you hold out your hand to him. "ahem."

he grabs it roughly and not without rolling his eyes.

"what?" you ask innocently. "that was a word."

"hardly," he jeers. "for as much as you read, i'd expect you to be more fluent than a child."

"and at 1000 years old, i'd expect you to be more charming than a teenage boy, but i guess we're both making concessions."

"see, this is the part that puzzles me. you never seem to have trouble with your words when you're being insolent."

"maybe it's a sign," you begin whimsically. "the universe decided you need to be taken down a peg."

"ah, yes. you as the executor of the universe's will. i don't know why i couldn't see it before."

you giggle, rather delighted that he's elected to play along with your quips. there's something that feels so warm and pleasant about it.

as you wonder if he feels it too, your hand tightens around his.

you're not quite ready to head back to your apartment just yet, because you're scared you'll lose the atmosphere surrounding the two of you. in truth, it's a bit intoxicating.

the perfect opportunity arises when you spot a small park up ahead. lights are strung around the trees, all of which are situated around a small fountain.

"we should stop at that park!" you hardly finish speaking before you take off in that direction, tugging him along behind you.

after you plop down on the fountain's ledge, sukuna takes his place beside you.

"let's sit here for a little while."

he doesn't respond and you take his silence as agreement. he's not really one to stifle his grievances.

as the minutes pass, the rush of the fountain is the only noise that fills the air, while you gaze at the trees with a serene expression.

sukuna, however, is looking at you. the only care he has for the trees is the way their lights reflect in your eyes. otherwise, he's fully occupied by the curve of your nose and the fullness of your lips.

"isn't this pretty?" you finally ask.

"it's pretty," he agrees, even when such a soft word feels foreign on his tongue.

his eyes still haven't left you, and you seem to be oblivious to this fact until he reaches up to stroke your cheek with the back of fingers.

when your gaze lands on him, the fondness written all over his face catches you off guard and you realize how close the both of you are. without really thinking about it, you lean into his touch.

"very pretty," he repeats lowly, as if he's talking to himself.

your heart lurches once in your chest, then hammers away at your ribcage without respite. he leans toward you a fraction of an inch, his eyes flicking down to your lips for a brief second.

truthfully, sukuna has never felt the way he does in this moment. it's a sincere sort of desire. he doesn't want the mindless devotion he once thirsted for from his followers. and he doesn't want the sex he used to crave from his concubines.

no. he just wants you— in whatever capacity you're willing to have him.

the way he's looking at you is just too much. there's a dull thudding in your ears and you swear your thoughts are moving at a million miles a minute.

so naturally, you blurt out the first thing you can manage. "we should take a selfie!"

his face shifts from whatever that expression was to one of confusion. "take a selfie?"

some twisted mix of relief and disappointment crashes through you.

"yeah, a selfie. a picture together. ya know, since the park is so pretty," you ramble.

he pulls away from you. not all the way, but enough that it gives you space to finally breath. he chuckles and it doesn't sound lofty like it so often does. in fact, he seems genuinely amused by you.

"a selfie," he deliberates. "that sounds great, but to the best of my knowledge, hell hasn't frozen over."

and just like that, your dynamic feels like it did during your walk from the ramen shop to the park— comfortable and fun.

"well i guess you would be one of the first to know."

ignoring his protests, you take out your phone and hold it far enough away that the camera captures both of your faces. you can see on the screen that he's put on an expression of complete boredom.

"c'mon," you nudge him with your elbow. "you look like you hate me."

the corner of his mouth curves upward. "that's because i do."

you think back on the way he was gazing at you just moments ago and laugh. "you're so full of shit."

then, without warning, you press a kiss to his cheek and click the button.

you decide that his vague look of contented surprise will just have to do.

when you and yuuji walk into the bar, you immediately spot one of the people you're there to meet. he's sitting at a hightop by himself, his snow white hair pretty hard to miss.

you tap his shoulder and his face breaks out into a grin. he slides out of the barstool. "if it isn't my favorite civilian!"

as he pulls you into a hug, you wonder if he's ever going to get tired of that joke. "if it isn't my favorite old man."

"35 is not old," he argues, moving to greet yuuji. "i'm still in the summer of my life, thank you very much!"

"gojo you're 36," the pink haired man remarks.

"gah! such betrayal, yuuji!" he presses his hand to his forehead and takes a deep breath. "now i'm going to need another round."

"i'll go and get drinks for all of us," you offer. "you two stay here so no one takes the table."

before either of them can respond, you turn and begin making your way through the crowd. you don't hear gojo when he calls out, "but darling! i should go with you!"

he takes a step in your direction, but stops when sukuna's mouth appears on yuuji's cheek. "you certainly should not, you insufferable half wit."

"relax, dude. he flirts with literally everyone," yuuji informs him.

gojo scoffs. "i am right here—"

"as if that makes it better?" sukuna barks. "she isn't some toy to be played with."

"of course she isn't! you can't honestly think i'd believe otherwise."

gojo is left forgotten for a moment as the other two bicker, so he interjects once there's a lull in the conversation. "do either of you care to explain what the hell is going on?"

yuuji turns toward him, trying and failing to hide the embarrassment on his face once he realizes that gojo is, in fact, still standing there.

his eyebrows are raised above his sunglasses and it's clear he is inappropriately amused by the situation (what else is new?). he moves to sit across from the younger man, looking at him expectantly.

having no way to talk himself out of this, yuuji relays the recent events regarding you and sukuna, sparing some of the finer details. gojo's face doesn't really betray much emotion throughout the story, though he does look thoughtful by the end of it.

leaning forward, he crosses his arms on top of the table. "maybe your feelings for her are influencing his own, forcing a sort of bond between them?"

"i don't think so," yuuji contends honestly. "other than her, you're the person i admire and respect the most, but he thinks—"

"that you are perhaps the most imbecilic rampallion i've ever had the displeasure of coming across."

gojo jerks back, as if the insult had hit him squarely in the jaw. the look of giddiness from yuuji's compliment, followed by the shift to indignation at sukuna's insult is almost comical.

he stretches his neck forward, cupping his hand around one side of his mouth as if it'd keep sukuna from hearing. "what'd he just call me?"

yuuji shrugs. "beats me, but i don't think he was singing your praises."

"i see your point." gojo pauses, glancing over his shoulder. you're approaching the table, so he turns back to yuuji and quickly adds, "we'll talk more about this another time, but for now, keep this between us."

a few moments later, you appear in front of them and exclaim, "look who i found!"

megumi and inumaki situate themselves around the table too, offering their greetings. you slide yuuji and gojo their drinks, both of which are filled to the brim of the glass. "now then gentlemen, shall we?"

when gojo teleports you and yuuji back to your apartment that night, it takes everything in you to keep from yakking all over your carpet.

"ta ta, hooligans!"

you turn to request that he never do that again, but he's already gone. taking one step forward, you promptly fall on your ass in the entryway with an unforgiving thud. yuuji staggers toward the couch, making it there just in time to face plant into the cushions.

looking down toward your shoes, you're dismayed to find that each one appears to have two sets of laces. you're fumbling with them determinedly when someone crouches down in front of you, their elbows resting on their thighs.

he doesn't say a word. brushing your hands away, he unties your shoes and carefully pulls them off your feet. you're lifted from the floor before you can register the arm that's looped under your knees or the other that's securely around your back.

"careful," you hiccup, your head falling into the crook of his neck. "'m gunna p-puke."

"i'd rather you didn't."

you groan. "s'not like i 'ave a choice in the matter."

he hums. "how much did you drink?"

"dunno. sss'much. nobara—" you hiccup again. "nobara n' maki made me."

he chuckles, placing you down on what you figure is your bed. "right, i'm sure you had no choice in the matter."

"tha's correct, yes."

unbuttoning your jeans, he tugs upward on your belt loops. "lift."

you do as he says, lifting your hips from the bed so he can slide your jeans off your legs. he knows you won't remember this— hell, your eyes are already closed— but he looks away as he does it anyway.

pulling your phone from your pocket and putting it on the charger, your pants are discarded off to the side. he only turns his head back in your direction once he's pulled the blankets up over your body.

"tuck me in?" you request.

sitting down on the bed beside you, he does so without protest.

he stares at you for a little while, worried about how poorly you're probably going to feel in the morning. he presses a kiss to your forehead, intending to get up and grab a water bottle for your nightstand.

instead, his body freezes when he hears you mumble, "i love you s'much."

his heart clenches so painfully, he honestly considers ripping it from his chest— it would probably be less agonizing.

but a thought that makes him feel like a fool occurs to him. of course it's not him that you love. "i'm not yuuji."

"well, duuuhhh. you're s'kuna." you're peering up at him through tired, hazy eyes. it's the first time you've ever seen him look bewildered, so a small giggle erupts from your throat. "s'okay. you don't 'ave t'say it back."

your eyes flutter shut and your breathing evens out before he even thinks to respond. all at once, it's as if his head is empty and as if it's about to explode.

love?

what does he know about love? it's a sentiment he's cursed for so long, but sitting here beside you, he can't quite seem to remember why. one thing he is sure of, however, is that there's never been a thing in the world he's loved.

suddenly, he's struck with remembrance of a quote from jane eyre you had emphasized with messy underlines:

"after a youth and manhood passed half in unutterable misery and half in dreary solitude, i have for the first time found what i can truly love—i have found you. you are my sympathy—my better self—my good angel. i am bound to you with a strong attachment. i think you good, gifted, lovely: a fervent, a solemn passion is conceived in my heart; it leans to you, draws you to my centre and spring of life, wraps my existence about you, and, kindling in pure, powerful flame, fuses you and me in one."

rochester says it as he begs jane to stay at thornfield with him, an act sukuna had previously regarded as ridiculous, but is that still the case?

were you to ever scorn him, would he fall to his knees and plead with you to change your mind? or if you were in danger of dying, would he drag himself to a shrine and pray to the gods he doesn't believe in?

is that what love is?

could he stand to be apart from you? are you special to him? does anything else in the world compare to you? does he seek out your company? is he consumed by you? can he know himself without knowing you?

does the definition of love lie in those questions?

sukuna hopes not, because he's terrified of the answers. being in love is not his way, nor is it in his nature.

he buries his face in his hands as realization settles into his bones. it feels as if they're splintering beneath the pressure, trying resentfully to stave it off.

he transcends any imaginable scale of power. he's bled entire villages dry, he's commandeered death, he's the king of curses.

so why now? and why you? is it divine retribution? a sick sort of joke that even he couldn't have dreamed up?

gods, you were right. the universe has sent you to carry out its will and he's completely powerless to stop it.

the worst part of it all? he doesn't want to.

taglist: @96jnie @ay0nha @sad-darksoul @bbysatoruuu @luciiferian @thepup356 @risuola *users in bold could not be tagged

[picturejasper20]

Gravity Falls is a coming of age series at is core about growing up but also mainly about how we grow up.

This is represented through the Pines twins protagonist duo: Dipper and Mabel. These two characters have what could be consider almost opposite approaches when it comes to realizing that they are getting older and their problems and world are changing as well.

For Dipper, we constanly see him trying to rush to adulthood. He usually tries to hide things that could be considered childish or foolish to enjoy such as it is the case of disco girl or going trick and treat with his own sister. ( "Dipper vs. Manliness" and "Summerween"). He often tries to pretend to be older and lie about his age to get the approval of older teenagers, like trying to go to teen parties. ("The Inconveniencing"-"Summerween").

Dipper thinks that he is as mature as a young adult, and in some ways he is, but in other ways this line of thinking makes do very foolish, reckless and even dangerous things- the opposite of being immature. This mainly shows when it comes to his crush on Wendy, someone who is clearly older than him and out of his league. A good part of his arc in Season 1 is about how he tries to impress Wendy without still fully understanding that he is still a kid and he is too young for her.

From what has been touched on the ¨Book of Bill¨, this behaviour may come from Dipper seeing an ugly argument from his parents that he wasn't supposed to listen to and this left a clear impact on him to the point he often has nightmares about it at night. Maybe he came to the conclusion that he has to ¨mature¨ and be more independent since he know there is something bad going on between his parents. However, it takes him time to understand that he can't become an adult overnight and is something is going to take him some years before doing so.

On the other side of the spectrum we have Mabel. In contrast to her brother Dipper, Mabel mostly has her mind occupied with things that have to do more of her age: Reading magazines and books, boy bands, playing with animals like it is the case with Waddles, ect. She isn't in a rush to be a grown up and chooses to live more in the present.

That's not to say that she doesn't have her own moments of insecurities like feeling she isn't as intelligent as Dipper ("Little Dipper") or trying to pretend to be an adult ("Boss Mabel"). Still, she doesn't seem she has this same necessity to hang out with the older teenagers or hide her interests as much as Dipper does. She is has less issus with acting silly or ¨childish¨ in front of others.

Mabel's main problem would be she wants to avoid growing up or remain in this more childhood state. While it doesn't get the same exploration as Dipper- at least not more until later in the show- Mabel is afraid of growing up and the problems that can come with it. In "Summerween" is where we see parts of this idea of wishing to be a child longer, explaining to Dipper that that was the main reason she wanted for the two of them to go treat and trick together.

What really hits Mabel is when she gets this really bad impression of what is like to be a teenager in "Dipper and Mabel vs. the Future". She gets very scared of growing up and what could happen to her. She wants things to remain the same and for the summer to last longer. This desire- along with other factors that made her feel like her world was crashing down around her- she got tricked by Bill possessing Blendin and telling her that he was going to ¨grant¨ her wish in exchange of Stanford's interdimensional rift device.

This makes her being trapped in fantasy world where she ¨never has to grow up¨. Everything is cute and smiles, bad things don't happen and she doesn't have to worry about any serious changes... But she realizes that this world is fake and that at some point she has to grow up and that things can't always stay the same.

Part of me wonders, that in spite of not having seen that terrible argument that Dipper did, Mabel is aware that something is going on with her parents and tries her best to ignore it. I think she may be scared things changing in her family after the summer ends- maybe more fights or one of her parents leaving- this gives some hindsight to some of her issues in the show.

By the end of the show and Dipper and Mabel's character arcs we have two important lessons about growing up: One is that things are constanly changing and growing older is inevitable but we don't have to rush it and maturity comes with time and learning about new things in live. It is important to live in the present while also realizing that there are going to be changes from time to time, from good to bad, but that doesn't mean it will be the end of the world if it happens. That is just part of life.

[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

Do you think that the fab five have their own favourite ships between Yuu and the twst boys? I somehow get the feeling that Daisy doesn’t actually have a preference, she just loves the chaos and gossip.

So I'm going to turn the Fab Five into the Sensational Six because I feel Pluto would like to add his own two cents into this:

Mickey Mouse: he just wants a break, you know? He thought that the most stress he'd get from running the club would be Pete's constant sabotage, the odd villain being up to no good, and Professor Von Drake being so irritatingly pompous. Yuu is such a sweet girl and he loves her a lot (he also really wishes Walt could have met her) - he's the founder and chairmouse of the Yuu Protection Club - but ever since she joined the club, his life has gone to both be both better and worse - yes, everyone is so much more better behaved and their solidarity in all things Yuu related is a breath of fresh air but then there's *gestures to everything*! You'd think that being almost a century old could have prepared him for one teenaged girl but he's broken out the wheel more times in a fortnight than he has in the years that club has been running. Between the petty insults, underhanded tactics and full on shouting matches that leads to destruction (and some of it coming from the heroes no less) as well as Yuu's own obliviousness regarding the situation, his fur is going to go grey - not to mention, the constant texts he'd get from Felicity and Oswald over how they want to meet their new niece (as if they haven't already kidnapped her that one day). I feel like he'd prefer a heroic character but he doesn't have anything against the villains at NRC because he knows with absolute certainty that they all do genuinely care for her. But at the end of the day, he just wants Yuu to be happy so who ever she decides would be fine by him - as long as they never hurt her :)

Minnie Mouse: okay so I'm going to say Neige. Here me out: while she is neutral on the shipping war, and is the one to reel everything in when it gets too crazy, she does have some of fondness for the boy that reminds her of her favourite Disney character. Yeah, she and Mickey say they don't play favourites but there's no doubt that they definitely hold a soft spot for the very first Disney princess/character and the main character of the first animated feature film (especially when you consider the history behind that movie and what it meant for Disney/Walt). she wouldn't want to admit it but watching Yuu's lovelife is kind of her guilty pleasure

Pluto: Probably Jack - you know, canine solidarity and all that. To be fair, I think he'd be split between being protective of Yuu and being jealous that Yuu would spend less time with him (I HC that there was a time that he was jealous of Minnie when she and Mickey would go on dates because he thought he was Mickey's number one). Would probably be conspiring with Donald to keep everyone away from her.

Goofy: He just wants her to be happy :D. No seriously, I don't want to make the 'Goofy is dumb' statement because he isn't - he's just a bit oblivious sometimes and we love him for it - but he has absolutely no idea that the shipping war is happening. He's just so happy that Maxy has a new friend and that he could look after Yuu while she works at the club ♡

Donald Duck: Absolutely Not! I get the feeling that after Goofy, Donald is the most dad-like (I haven't seen either of the Ducktales shows so I can't comment on his behaviour there) - like, I remember how sweet he was to Max during that one episode where he wanted a car and how he stood up to Goofy to tell him to stop being so overprotective. Plus, I feel like he's really distrustful of villains so the NRC boys being who they are probably won't earn any pointers from the sailor duck who isn't afraid to use his navy training.

Daisy Duck: is just absolutely loving this - there's more gossip during one night at the club than there is in a week at her salon! Like you said, she doesn't have a preference. She'll just take a seat next to Kuzco and ooh and aah at all of the tea she gets from Tinkerbell.

Thanks for the ask ♡

[lamentofabramo]

Can I get an NSFW alphabet for Tobias Rogers (ticci toby) 🫶

I've been doing a bigger piece, so I might as well do something smaller like this since it's been a good while since I've posted now. (oops)

I'm basing this less on the fandom vers of him, hopefully.

Didn't proofread this much. (edit: I feel bad that I didn't acknowledge the heart, so <3 of course you can doll)

MINORS DNI

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) Toby obviously is one of the more caring of the creepypasta's, of course that's a low bar, but he is considerably more human than some of them. He's still gruff and fairly untalkative after the deed, yet he'd offer some water before leaving if you were just a one-off/ casual fuck.

If you were his partner however, I'd imagine he'd be more caring, still untalkative and unaffectionate, but maybe he'd hold you or hold your hand in this. Of course, he'd blame this on being unable to properly feel what he's holding, but the slow decrease in his twitches as he holds you speaks a lot more than he ever will. He's not comfortable, but he feels slightly less stress in your presence, at least until he has to leave, his mind penetrated by the voice of the foreboding presence of the ever-taller man.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) His own favourite body part would probably be his arms, he was a scrawny kid for most of his life, but you sure would start gaining muscle if you swung your axe at people who you considered worthy of it. There's probably also some scars across his arms that remind him of his life before. Of course, he'd hate that idea, but he still has some attachment to his sister, his mother, no matter how hard he may try to push it out of his head.

For his favourite part of his partners, I feel like it'd most likely be your waist. It's something for him to grab, to hold onto to remember you're real, that you're still alive against his better judgement.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) If you asked for it in a specific place, sure he'd do it if he was in a good mood. On your chest, ass, inside even. He'd risk it, he had nothing to truly lose anyway. But his favourite place would most likely be on your stomach, just the wet streaks across your stomach would do things for him. He's not sure why either, he wouldn't register that he does that almost every time unless you pointed it out to him.

If you did, he'd probably consider why for a second, his eyes widening in realization before shrugging. "Any better ideas?" he'd mumble, absently listening as he stroked himself. Toby would listen if you told him anywhere else, but… his eyes focused on that smooth surface.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) He secretly wants to push the boundaries of his condition. He wants your hands around his neck, trying to choke him until it hurt. It was strange really, he had a high pain tolerance, yet he craved this pain. Maybe it was because he wanted to be normal, maybe not. He didn't want to think too hard on it, like many other things he just shrugged at the idea and continued with his life.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?) Toby was definitely not an experienced guy, even before the accident where he finally became 'free' (If you could say being slenderman's lackey was free) the most he'd done was hold hands with a girl in primary school.

He wouldn't be insecure with it however, he never viewed himself as a sexual being, the most he'd ever fucked was his fist on particularly rough nights. Sure, he'd had crushes on women, but when you become a serial killer you go one of two ways. A sex maniac or a complete recluse. Unfortunately, Toby became the latter.

However, since he had a less than regular childhood, he was never able to go through the same sexual awakenings as many of his peers. Instead, that most likely came later, so when he met you he was awkward, like a teenage boy. Most of his language is through grumbles and grunts anyway.

When he realized you were stuck in his head it all changed though, his sex drive increased massively. His poor hand.

F = Favourite position (this goes without saying) Cowgirl probably rocks his world, he loves that intense eye contact that comes with it. The way he looks up at you through his fringe, his mouth slightly open as he pants and grunts, is a reward in itself. However, he would get impatient, his hips thrusting up to meet yours or his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you down further on his cock.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) If something was funny to him, then he'd smirk, like if you hid your body from him even though he was about to be deep inside of you.

When he gets further into the activity, he'd let out breathless laughs, sometimes blaming that on his tics. He couldn't help it, though, he loved the way you responded to him.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) Toby probably doesn't care much about how groomed he is, sometimes he'll shave, but other than that he's got whatever going on.

He has a small happy-trail up to his belly button though, it shows when he raises his axe too high. It's a dark brown colour, just like his hair.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect) He's probably not particularly intimate, maybe some words here or there if he feels like it, but don't overestimate him too much. He probably came inside you before he kissed you.

His cheeks pinken slightly whenever you suggest kissing, but he quickly slouches and looks away with an almost childish pout to pretend as though he doesn't care.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) Like I said in the earlier one, sure he jacked off every now and again, but it was more so a way to pass the time, to get some serotonin in his ever-pleasant life. But when he gets fixated on something, or rather in your case, someone, his sex drive spikes. He wants you in his hands, in his vice, it frustrates him, so he takes this frustration out on himself.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) He's probably degrading, mixed with praise. He's basically up for anything. He's killed someone, I'm sure a weird kink won't kill him.

However, if he does think your kinks are unusual he will take the piss out of you for it, teasing, but he still takes part in it. Its fun.

L = Location (favourite places to do the do) Wherever you want, he's not arsed, really. Against a tree sounds the most fun.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) As cheesy as this sounds, you. Maybe some aggression on your side would get him going too, that mouth of yours was lethal sometimes.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs) Like I said before, he's practically up for anything. He might not be physically aggressive for you too much, though, it'd remind him of his past.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) He's a munch, if he's in the mood enough, he could probably cum from giving you head. He'd deny that though, God that'd be embarrassing.

Not only that, but he'd receive too, no doubt, Toby would find it fun to just gently tug your head up and down on his cock.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.) Toby would probably be slow but deep if he's teasing you. But if he's just fucking you, then it'd be fast, his hands pulling you down on his cock with faster speed.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) Hell yeah brother. Just give him the words, he might tease you for it, but he'd never say no (unless he's in a more depressive mood).

He'd love to fuck you in the back of his car too, or masky's car. Just for the hell of it.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.) He's a risky guy, but surprisingly, he wouldn't do anything that could get him potentially caught by the law. He's on the run for a reason, he's not willing to risk his freedom for a good fuck (sometimes).

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?) He'd probably like to overstimulate slightly, 2/3 rounds before he's clocked out and completely dry. He'd last an average enough time, 20 minutes normally.

T = Toys (do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?) Seeing your body twitch with something that isn't him would make him jealous. However, a little vibrator never hurt anyone. He'd tease you if you had any dildos or anything, though, asking pettily if he "wasn't enough" or that you were "stretching yourself out" for him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) Big tease, but he always fulfils your wants. It may take a while, though.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) The only noise he really makes is grunting and whispers on how dirty you are. He's loud enough that you can hear him, but not loud enough for it to be a full-blown moan.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) He does want to see how you'd look crying for him all bloodied up, most likely someone else's blood, but he's not picky. Maybe fucking you on top of a recently deceased.

But he'd never admit that.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) An average to slightly bigger man, About 6.4 inches. Probably measured it one time when he was bored, and he hung onto the .4 for his ego.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) Not too high unless you exist, then…as much as he can get his hands on you.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) He doesn't sleep much after it, doesn't feel comfortable sleeping in front of others, even someone like you. His nightmares don't help.

[lil-quinnie]

I'm not that innocent

part II

Stepdad!Eddie x F!reader

Warnings: STEPCEST, AGE GAP (Eddie's 40s and Reader is middle 20s) , daddy kink, oral (m receiving) , slight pet play, dom sub dynamic, degradation, cheating, bad family's relationship, nipple play, breast fucking, Lemme know if i forget something <3

Summary: Your mother left your stepfather alone and lonely on her birthday, the next morning you wanted to make his morning as easy as possible, that's what a good girl would do, isn't it?

picture of older eddie by: @eddiemunsons-missingnipple

You've known Eddie for almost five years now, ever since he started dating your mother when you were fifteen, your mother and he didn't know each other well when they had the brilliant idea of getting married and living together in less than three months of dating.

You didn't have to say how disastrous the whole get-together was inside the suburban house that used to be just yours and your mother's, and now in every room you looked there were traces of Eddie, from Mister Munson to you.

For two long years your Mother's marriage to Mr. Munson seemed like a fairy tale, he brought her flowers at least twice a week, cooked delicious dinners while your mother drank a (few) glasses of wine until they were both laughing and bumping into the hallway walls, giggling and whispering like two teenagers in love, it was cute you thought.

Things started to get bad on your 18th birthday. Eddie used to work in a big mechanic and managed to buy you an almost new car as a gift, your mother knew the whole plan and helped the man with every detail, from covering the car with an old sheet to blindfolding you and guiding you to the garage.

Maybe it was your reaction, maybe it was Eddie's hands hugging you back, hands in your lower back, maybe it was how you jumped and laughed causing your body and your stepdad's to brush against each other,your mother could see your braless chest squeezed on her sweaty husband, but something in her attitude has changed, both with you and with her husband.

Unlike your mother who is an extrovert, you were quiet, preferring to stay with your books and headphones. Your quiet nature caused your voice to be low and calm, which would explain your mother's sudden change after your explosive reaction , with her husband and not with her! Which ignited a flame of insecurity inside the head of the older woman who was always talking back to you for anything you said, who started to ignore you and made your life more difficult at every opportunity .

The situation for Eddie wasn't the best either, they fought over any and all nonsense and it always ended the same way, with him begging her to stay, while she kept saying terrible things to him, the ending was your mother slamming the front door in his face, going to god only knew where, as he sat in the dark room, face in his hands.

It didn't take long for rumors to start running around town. One day of carelessness and your mother was seen by a neighbor kissing a boy much younger than her. And from what you'd heard, it wasn't the first time.

That was 2 years ago, you didn't stick around long enough to find out if they were real or not, but you never understood why Eddie put up with it all and believed your mother's sarcastic voice when she denied the whole story.

Now, 2 years older than the last time you were here, you avoid that story as much as possible, of course the weekly calls home became monthly and soon you only called on major holidays, visiting was out of the question as money was tight and your job at the library college barely paid your rent. 

You wouldn't accept financial help from them even though they insisted, knowing what happened the time you accepted your old car.

Now, on your mother's 40th birthday, you were forced to be there, your mother even offered to pay for your plane ticket but you preferred to face the 9 hours on the road. When you arrived, to your -not- surprise, things weren't very different from how they were in your last days in this house.

Your mother was trying her best to maintain a not-so-fake smile as she waved from the porch and you parked your car. You were happy to see the mother you hadn't seen in a few years, now blonder with more visible wrinkles but still just as beautiful.

The tension of a few years ago didn't exist but everyone could feel that something still wasn't clicking. You gave your mother a quick hug and nodded at Eddie, as you tried to carry all your luggage alone into your old childhood room, now with some guitars and acoustic, posters of some old bands you didn't know and others that you were much more than a fan.

If you noticed the little touches Eddie left in your home, this room now certainly screamed Eddie, you mean, Mister Munson!

The strangest thing was the fresh smell of his shampoo on the pillow that used to be yours. "Does he usually sleep here?" you thought, digging in your nose, taking in all Mr. Munson scent, the cigarette, something earthy and musk, all of him, causing your thighs to press against each other to bring any kind of relief.

It had been three days since you had stayed with them and the tension was only beginning to rise. You could hear the little arguments your mother had with Eddie over the smallest of things. The final straw, both for you and for your mother, was on Friday night, on her birthday. 

The argument had started over a wrong present that Mr. Munson had bought, intensified because he tried to hug the woman who was raging in front of him and ended when, to your surprise, he shouted that he missed her, he missed her touch. Making your mother grab an old backpack, stuff it with some clothes and speed off the tires of your car.

You tossed and turned all night in your bed, feeling his scent wafting around you, the sound of the man's deep breathing sleeping on the couch echoing in your ears, making your hand roam over your body, adding pressure everywhere you thought that Eddie would pay more attention until you found your sex already wet.

The mere memory of Mr. Munson's hands were enough to send you over the edge, but it was hearing him moan in rage that made you come harder, thinking of how he could take all that anger and frustration out on your pussy at the same time, instead of anything else he was doing right now.

You didn't know how to act the next morning, not because you heard the fight, but because you knew how needy your stepfather was, that information made something carnal wake up inside your chest and you decided to test the waters around you.

You decided to act as if nothing had happened, leaving the room only in a baggy T-shirt and shorts so short they barely showed, and a pair of white socks.

You went to the kitchen to make coffee when you noticed the unconscious figure of your stepfather lying on the sofa, his hair covering half of his face and the half you could see was beautiful.

You prepared two large mugs of coffee, looked for the man's cigarettes and took a deep breath trying to gain more courage to wake him up, not knowing what his reaction would be after this type of situation with your mother.

You put everything on the coffee table in the living room, knelt down next to the sofa and brushed some curls from the man's face. Eddie squirmed under your touch and slowly opened his eyes, taking time to understand what was happening and where he was.

He sat on the couch, having an overhead view of you, getting to see the contours of your breasts and your nipples already erect from the weather, peeking out from under your shirt "my shirt" he thought to himself as he looked your body up and down. down, smiling slightly when he saw you kneeling so close to him.

"Good morning sweetheart" he said in a hoarse voice, rubbing his face with both hands "Sorry, I didn't expect the night to end like that" he gave you an apologetic smile, you just nodded and passed the mug of coffee for the older man.

"It's okay, really. It wasn't your fault" you smiled, as you started to stand up, you let your shirt ride up to the curve of your ass, as you purposefully bent down to pick up one of Eddie's cigarettes, turning to face the man who was obviously checking you out "May I Mr Munson?" you asked in the sweetest voice you had in your arsenal.

Eddie took a while to understand what your request was and looked away when he saw your obvious smirk and cleared his throat to disguise the blush rising in the man's bearded cheeks.

"S-sure, be my guest sweetheart" he straightened his body on the couch, sitting as straight as possible, bringing a pillow to his lap trying to hide the erection marked in black jeans.

"But you know you don't have to call me Mister Munson, right? Fuck, I don't even think my father was called that." he chuckled softly as he took a few sips of his delicious coffee

You now leaning against the window across the room, cigarette wedged between your lips, you shrugged and lit your cigarette, your eyes never leaving the man's eyes, who eyed you suspiciously

"Sorry, old habits die hard" you blew out the smoke and smiled at him, the kind of smile he hadn't gotten in a while, the kind of smile he'd gotten from your mother for the past two years.

"Yes! Of course,yeah, just Eddie is fine" He had to take a big, long drink of his coffee to quell the malice that was growing in his face, but he didn't expect your answer to be as direct as it was "I thought you wanted to that I called you daddy" you bit your lip as the man took a slight choke on his coffee before giving a disbelieving laugh.

"You would like that, right, little girl?" The smirk and the hungry look that Eddie was giving at you made your thighs clenched automatically, this time harder causing a low sigh to escape your perfect lips. Not going unnoticed by Eddie, who was already sitting with his forearms resting on his knee as he stared at you like you were a prey.

"Yes" you said above a whisper, "Yes what?" Eddie's gaze never leaving your face;

"Yes d-daddy" you replied with a groan, making the man squeeze the pillow tighter on his lap, “Good girl”.

Silence filled the living room, you could hear your stepdad's cigarette paper burning across the room at the same intensity you could feel his gaze burn holes in your skin

"Are you, are you feeling better, Daddy?" you smirked as you approached the man sitting on the couch a few steps away from you.

"Stop!" he demanded, making you stop instantly, not knowing if he was asking you to stop the overt flirting or if he wanted you to physically stop moving so you did both.

"So obedient, what a good girl" he said, taking the pillow off his lap leaving the bulge in his pants apparent to you, he brought a huge, ringed hand to his cock, groping and squeezing causing the man to moan

"please daddy" you said pathetically not really knowing what you were asking for "please what little girl?" he said, now sliding his hand over his cock, showing all the girth that would hopefully be filling your desperate little pussy

"Can I get close to you? Can I make you feel good daddy? please" Eddie could sense how much you were in need and decided to take full advantage of it.

"You can, of course you can princess" he smiled as if he was hiding something and before you could say thank you, he completed the sentence "but come crawling to daddy, little girl" 

The words disappeared from your mouth, your knees were already weak watching Eddie touching him even if only over his pants.

Your knees sank to the floor, and you made a point of pushing your ass as high as possible, leaving your little white cotton panties visible as you crawled between the older man's legs.

You can smell him faintly in your nose, the same one that surrounded you all night for the last 2 days. With his small hands gripping his stepdad's thick thighs Eddie did the one thing you wouldn't expect him to do, he grabbed a handful of your hair and rubbed your delicate face against his crotch.

"Yeah, that's it, I know you like it you little slut" he circled his hips against your face, you could feel his already hard cock pressed against your face "you think I didn't listen to you yesterday?" you let a moan come out of his mouth followed by a chorus of "please, please, oh! let me taste you daddy, i'm your good girl, i'm your good kitten"

Your last sentence made the man moan loudly and start to unbutton his pants in a clumsy way, pulling his pants down to his ankles and kicking them away, your hands went up his thigh, stopping at his groin, you could feel the heat emanating from him. of his dick.

"Go on little girl, take your time" 

he said, opening his legs wider for you to settle between them.

You did as you were told, your hands roamed your stepfather's body, who felt everything as if it were torture, your hand enveloped his hard cock, giving a few kisses to the covered head of the member, you could taste the precum through the fabric of his boxers.

You pulled the underwear down Eddie's legs, gripping his cock in both hands, touching your feather-light lips to his red head, giving cat-like licks as you moved your hands up and down. "oh! fuck" Eddie's hands found the hair on the back of your neck, taking control of your head, forcing your mouth deeper and deeper into his hard cock. "Put your tongue out little girl, let daddy fill your throat, huh?" you just asserted and stuck out your tongue as much as your body would allow.

Eddie took advantage of the space your sticking-out tongue created and shoved his cock deep down your throat "mother…fucker" he groaned, setting a rhythm as he fucked your throat. He wiped away the fat tears that were streaming down your face and you could see his smile through your blurred vision as he licked your tears away from his thumb print.

"That's it little girl, making daddy feel so good" Eddie ripped your head off his cock so you could breathe, you moaned at the lack of contact causing Eddie to slap your cheek, making you even redder. "Thank you daddy" you said, leaving the man almost speechless.

The stepfather's hands went to the hem of your shirt, lifting it, leaving your bare breasts on display. "I knew it" he said, slapping your chest with his hand  "looks like my little girl is a slut", Eddie stuffed part of the hem of your shirt into your mouth, trapping the fabric between your teeth as he attacked your nipples.

He licked and sucked your nipple like a starving man, pinching the other nipple with his fingertips, rolling and tugging, making your muffled moans almost inaudible, but not to Eddie.

He ripped the shirt from your body holding your face between his fingers "Now open that pretty little mouth wide little girl, I need you to get my cock very wet for what I want to do to you next, ok slut?" he whispered as he passed the head of the cock in your mouth asking for access.

You opened your mouth wide, his cock assaulted your mouth without mercy, going so deep that with each thrust your mouth watered more, making your saliva run down your stepfather's balls and your full bare breasts "That's it, little girl, swallow everything daddy gives you" You completely surrendered control of your head to the man, so it was no surprise when he ripped you off his cock and made you suck his balls instead, causing more saliva to run down your body .

You took an entire ball into your mouth, sucking so gently it took Eddie over the edge more than once in a row, he pulled your bodies apart, lifting you off the floor and placing you on the sofa in the position he needed you, leaning against the headboard of the sofa. Your step dad jerked off a few times before wedging his hard cock between your breasts.

His big hands squeezed your breasts against his cock, he used the mixture of your fluids to slide the hard member against your skin, always letting the luscious head hit your chin "C’mom princess, let me in your mouth, open that little mouth for daddy", Eddie ran his fingers over your nipples, making you grind against the couch looking for any kind of relief.

Eddie was so mesmerized by the puddle forming on the black leather sofa that he didn't notice your open mouth, a string of saliva fell on the head of his cock, snapping him out of his trance, faster fucking your breasts as the angry head of his cock it entered through your lips, brushing deliciously on his tongue, the texture of your taste buds made eddie's knees weak

"Please daddy, give me more, I can take more" you said trying to get more of him into your mouth as he fucked frantically, pinching and pulling at your nipples, he was in a frenzy. Head thrown back, eyes closed, highly pornographic moans followed by insults that made you feel like the most desired and admired woman in the world “‘m gonna come, oh!fuck, where? where can I come?" he said between moans.

"In my mouth, I want to taste you daddy," you said, making your tongue swirl around the head of his cock. The man moaned louder, jamming his cock deep in his mouth, "Such a slut, such a dirty slut, oh! fuck" you went up and down sucking his cock, as he held your head in place and thrust most of his cock in. in your mouth, cumming deep in your throat. "oh! fuck" he sighed with his forehead against hers, "fuck little girl, I don't think I've ever come this hard in my life" his husky voice made her cheeks flush, bringing out a shyness that hadn't been there a few minutes ago .

"Come here" he said, holding your face and for the first time in the night, his lips touched yours, he could feel the sweet taste of your mouth mixed with his cigarette that you had smoked earlier, he knew it was the new favorite flavor of his and that now that he's tasted the forbidden fruit no other flavor would suffice.

The kiss was slow, despite the few words exchanged you could feel how important his touch was to your stepfather, he licked his tongue and kissed you as if he hadn't had any kind of contact for years. And maybe he hadn't. The kiss was broken by the ringing of the phone. Eddie's naked figure walked away from you, taking the phone in his hands and walking to the bathroom. "yeah, yeah ok, I'll be there as soon as possible", you could hear the muffled sound of Eddie's voice as he cleaned up.

The mess that oozed between your thighs from an untouched pussy was pathetic, you felt your clits throbbing, making you squirm with every little contact of the panties with your button.

When Eddie came back from the bathroom he was fully dressed in his work overalls,

"Sorry dollface, emergency at work" he said leaning down as he spoke to you, he placed a few more kisses on your mouth and your jaw "I'll be right back" one kiss "I don't want you to touch yourself" his fingers circled your clits over her panties "that pussy is mine" in a whisper "you want to be my good girl don't you? my good kitty?" he stood up, making himself look a lot more intimidating.

"yes, yes daddy, I'm your good girl" you said getting up, your half naked body pressed against his, his hands roaming your body, squeezing your ass as he kissed you, taking you with him towards the door "My good little girl", he said, pulling out of your embrace.

"I'll see you later, okay?" he said with his body almost completely out of the house "and, thanks for... for today, I.." you cut him off with a quick kiss on the lips "see you later, daddy", your smile made him melt a little on the doorstep, giving you the sweetest smile you've ever seen on your stepfather's handsome face.

He just waved and closed the door, leaving you alone in a house that wasn't yours, in a city that wasn't yours and thinking about a husband that wasn't yours.

[w4w4lycsss]

JAMES HOOK: DATING NATURE BOY HEADCANONS

summary: a list of headcanons that occurred to me while translating a request from Morgie pairing: James Hook x male!god of the spring!reader a/n: Maybe I'll make a standalone story out of this after Morgie's request

I hope you know the Hades x Persephone au, because you two are literally them

You're a child of nature who was raised by Demeter (Greek goddess of nature and crops, sister of Hades) so somehow you ended up at Merlin Academy

You have a sibling bond with Hades, you hung out with the VKs to be with him because you felt safe

Hook noticed you instantly and knew you were different

Your dark green hair pretending to be black, your skin too perfect to be a teenager, how you were always barefoot, your fascination with the outside world and how you seem to have a heart too kind to be related to Hades himself

He likes different

It was a real challenge to ask you out, Hades looked out for you at all times and gave him dirty looks when he got too close to you

He didn't give up

One day Hades and Maleficent went on a date, you were too bored with nothing to do

You started walking around the school yards aimlessly, not realizing that behind your steps you left a trail of small flowers

Hook noticed the trail that adorned almost the entire school until he found you sitting under a tree

It was a good opportunity for him

The sweet way you greeted him when he approached you stealthily melted his heart

You even wove him a flower crown while you told him about your day

If he stayed with you any longer he was going to die of love

He realized that you had a heart too sweet and a conscience too innocent for a pirate like him

Did he care? No, but now you knew how overprotective Demeter and Hades were of you

When it got dark and Hades and Maleficent came back from their date, you said goodbye to him and went to find them to give them a flower crown too

You even made one for Morgie and Uliana

It was a surprise that you got along with the ENTIRE VK group

One day Uliana wondered if you were a copy of Bridget, to which Hook and Hades (who knew you the most) couldn't help but laugh at how absurd that sounded

Hook came to your defense saying that while Bridget was naive with her kindness to everyone you knew who you should be with and who you shouldn't

He was right, Demeter hadn't raised a dumb child

Hades was becoming less paranoid about who you hung out with, even letting you and Hook spend entire afternoons without worrying

Every time you call him James and not Hook his heart will melt

I proclaim myself the creator of the headcanon Hook is obsessed with your thighs/legs (and has several fantasies about them) so don't doubt that he will put his hand on your thigh when you sit together in the dining room

At first you don't give it any importance because you think that his love language is physical contact and he is associated with that

The truth is that he does it when he notices that someone is looking at you too much

You two haven't even started dating yet!

He likes to run his hook over your thigh when you wear shorts in hot weather to see you laugh nervously

Hades gets angry when he does this

(He clearly doesn't care)

He made the first move, you were too shy to confess your love

He kissed you at your bedroom door when he walked you in one night

Now you two are boyfriends!

He treats you like a prince

(I'm obsessed with the idea of ​​Hook dating a prince)

How did Hades take it? Oh, he went crazy 🥰

I mean, it's obvious that he suspected it when he caught Hook looking at you like a love-struck fool a bunch of times, but he didn't expect you two to become a couple!

Hook sometimes forgets that Hades and you are gods

(You are more like an entity of nature but you have the power of a god)

Demeter (who was like your mother) had a hard time accepting Hook as your partner because he was a pirate until she saw the way he treated you and then accepted him better

PICNIC DATES. PICNIC DATES. PICNIC DATES.

You give him flower crowns every day and keep each one of them

(They are magic flowers, they do not wither)

I just want you to imagine a pirate's room, dark and full of threatening things but when you pay attention to the headboard of his bed it's full of flowers

I have a headcanon that shares a room with Morgie

A dark room with green lights would always have the curtains closed

The more light comes in, the more threatening it looks

And the flower crowns in one corner, obviously

[cobaltperun]

Lost (30 - Finale) - Tangled up in you

Tara Carpenter x female Reader

Summary: To anyone on the outside, and to Tara’s friends, you were Tara’s fierce protector, the MMA fighter who’d take anyone on for Tara. The Guard Dog, as Amber called you. You had no idea you’d have to protect her from people who claimed they loved her. It didn’t matter. As long as you and Tara had one another there was nothing you wouldn’t be able to survive.

Story warnings: Scream violence, family issues, trauma, angst, certain sensitive topics

Word count: 3.8k

Story masterlist / First part / Previous part

-You're the fire that warms me when I'm cold, you're the hand I have to hold as I grow old-

~X~ September 2037 ~X~

No matter how many times she thought about it, Tara couldn’t wrap her head around the passage of time. In a few days your children would turn ten, a few months ago you turned thirty-six and she would be thirty-five in a few months. Mindy and Anika adopted three wonderful children that would turn four next month, and even Chad got married and had a kid of his own on the way! Sam was forty, and she somehow managed to settle down with the female cop that infiltrated the cult over a decade ago, and it was about damn time. Frankly, Tara was grateful to the woman for having the patience to deal with Sam’s uncertainties and doubts in herself.

The point was, the time was passing way too quickly, it felt like she gave birth to Zack and Susan just yesterday and now they were slowly but surely entering their rebellious phase. Well, sometimes, and for small things, but Tara dreaded the moment they’d start arguing with you and her over everything. Soon they’d be teenagers, exploring the world through a fresh perspective, learning more about themselves, truly falling in love for the first time, and all the other things Tara frankly wasn’t ready for.

You on the other hand remained fairly chill about it, saying it was part of growing up and that you couldn’t protect them from everything. Speaking of you, you were on a business trip, to negotiate a deal and handle some minor inconveniences with a partner company. You’d come back tonight, and Tara hoped she could deal with the mess before you arrived.

The entire kitchen was almost at the point of no return, almost messed up beyond all recognition, and Zack and Susan loved it. Tara, however, wondered why she came up with this idea in the first place. “Zack, sweetheart, bring me the cream,” she asked the boy as she took a deep breath and prepared to remove the cake mold around the layered cake she and the twins made.

“Mommy, this isn’t going to hold,” Susan poked the upper layer and it moved! Why were cakes like this?! She made great food these past few days, breakfast, lunch, dinner, as long as it wasn’t really complex, sweets, or any pastry aside from the simplest ones, she more or less could make it, but cakes would one hundred percent be her downfall!

“Nonsense, we followed the recipe, and I watched Y/N make these plenty of times before!” Tara remained hopeful. It would be fine, she did watch you do this even before Zack and Susan were born, even before you two got together. She could do it. So, what if the sink was filled with dirty dishes, or if there was flour all over the counter, or if the stove desperately needed cleaning and the kids and her had cream and filling and chocolate all over their hands and faces and clothes. The cake would be amazing. Maybe a bit too sweet, because she foolishly allowed Zack to add sugar to the filling, and maybe, just maybe, Susan spilled a bit too much vanilla extract into it, but it would be fine.

“Sue is right, Mom, though Mom is more whipped than this cream so we’ll be fine,” Zack set the whipped cream next to her and climbed onto the chair to watch the impending doom he was so sure would transpire the moment Tara removed the cake mold. He was so much like you it wasn’t even funny. Calm, not bothered by most things. Susan picked up some of your traits as well, but Zack was like a sponge when it came to you, picking up your traits and habits.

“It’ll be fine,” Tara said, more to reassure herself than anything else and, with her eyes closed, finally removed the mold, only to feel the layers of the cake the three of them spent hours making just falling apart.

This was why you handled the cooking, you, unlike Tara, could make anything. And you, again unlike Tara, actually loved doing it.

“See? We told you,” Susan ripped off a small piece of the sponge, dipped it into the filling and put it in her mouth. “At least it tastes good?” she offered as Tara nearly dropped her head down on the table.

She would have done it, if Zack didn’t put his hand between her head and the messy table. “Thanks, Zack,” she sighed, lifting her head up and just sitting down on the chair. This was, in one word, a disaster.

Before the boy could reply Tara heard the sound of car pulling into the driveway and, despite the mess in the kitchen, she smiled, taking the apron off and watching through the kitchen window as you stepped out of the car with your bag hanging from your shoulder and a bounce to your step. You could have parked inside the garage, but you were clearly impatient to see your family once again.

“Mom!” Zack exclaimed, running toward the doors with a large grin on his face and Susan immediately followed him, just as happy to see you again after five days apart.

“Clean up first!” oh, who was Tara kidding, this was the longest the twins spent away from you, of course they wouldn’t realize how messy they were. It didn’t help that the kids were as attached to you as she was, they loved you, looked up to you, relied on you. You were everything your or Tara’s parents failed to be, their support and protection and Tara felt lucky she could raise the twins with you. You made one hell of a team if she could say so herself and the twins were happy, and actually excited to spend time with the two of you, unlike Tara or you were when you were their age.

She smiled when she heard your laughter. “Who let you two loose in the kitchen?” you laughed and she heard both of your children laughing and shouting, she couldn’t see what was going on, but she was certain you just lifted them up, and sure enough you walked through the kitchen doors with Zack and Susan in your arms. “Another year or two and you’ll have to take turns, you’re getting a bit too big,” you laughed and kissed their cheeks as they hugged you tightly.

“We tried to make a cake for you,” Zack spilled the beans.

“We made a mess,” Susan fake-whispered to you and then pointed around the kitchen for you to see.

“Well,” you took the horror slash crime scene in front of you in as Tara just sheepishly smiled at you. “There are words that could be used in this situation,” you chuckled, lowering the kids down and walking over to Tara.

She just looked at you, too exhausted by the failure to get up and greet you. And, well, unlike the twins she was aware of how messy she was. Although, your clothes were already stained, so maybe adding a few more stains wouldn’t hurt.

“I missed you so much,” you kissed her as you wrapped your arms around her waist and pulled her up, and Tara hooked an arm around your neck.

She deepened the kiss and caressed your cheek, leaving a bit of whipped cream on it. “It’s a complete failure,” she chuckled softly when she pulled back and looked you in the eyes, and she still saw the same intense, absolute love she saw all those years ago. All these years and the love you felt for her didn’t fade even a bit, in fact, it just got stronger with time.

You took her hand and brough it to your lips to taste the whipped cream. “This is fine,” you said and glanced at the filling. “That’s not thick enough though. And you forgot to put the whipped cream on the edges,” you told her, just from one glance seeing where the main issues were.

Well, you were the one who handled the cooking, not Tara.

“Can we fix it?” Susan asked as you lowered Tara back down.

“Maybe next time, I wanna eat what you guys made for me,” you said, and so you just freshened up a bit and came back to the kitchen to enjoy the end results of your family’s efforts. It was just another thing she loved about you, because it didn’t matter that the cake was a mess, Tara, Zack and Susan made it for you, and to you that meant it was perfect as it was.

“See,” Zack grinned at her, and Tara noticed that his grin looked a lot like yours. “Mom is more whipped than this,” he reminded her, causing you to ruffle his hair.

“I mean, I can’t argue against that,” you laughed, taking another bite of the cake.

“Sue got an A for her drawing, by the way,” Zack suddenly said, and Tara watched with a wide smile as Susan blushed when you, proud of her, got up and kissed the top of her head.

“I’m proud of you, Sue,” you smiled, hugging your daughter when she wrapped her arms around you.

Susan shrugged. “It’s just the usual stuff,” she said, though the smile on her face gave away the fact that she enjoyed the praise.

“Maybe, but,” you pulled Zack into a hug as well. “we’re both still proud of you. Both of you. No matter what you get at school, as long as you’re happy and put effort into what you’re doing, we’ll both always be proud of you,” you told them, and it was something both you and Tara told them as often as possible. No matter how big or how small, no matter if they succeed or fail, you would always be there to celebrate with them or cheer them up.

And Tara got up to hug the three of you at the same time. It felt good to have her entire family with her again, even if you were away for only five days.

~X~

It was late at night when you and Tara finished returning the kitchen to the original state. “Did you three have a whipped cream fight?” you asked incredulously as you brought the ladder to clean a few bits of whipped cream stains that somehow ended up on the ceiling.

Tara chuckled uneasily. “I’d like to tell you how that happened, but this whole night feels like a fever dream,” she sighed as she slumped into the chair, exhausted and sleepy, but not complaining for even a moment. Hell, she wanted to clean this all up alone and let you rest. As if you could rest knowing she was fighting the kitchen mess all alone.

At least Zack and Susan got too tired to make a fuss about their bedtime.

You climbed down from the ladder and approached Tara. “I appreciate the thought, Love,” you said, getting behind her and massaging her shoulders and neck slowly.

“That’s the spot,” she sighed contently and closed her eyes, just surrendering to the sensations of your touch over her shirt, well, your shirt, but at this point it was a shared closet. “How did your business trip go?” she asked while you lowered your hands to massage her back, or at least whatever you could reach above the chair.

“Eh, they were being greedy so I went and made it very clear we were paying them enough already, but I might need to look for another export company soon enough,” you said, thinking over the past few days. “Oh, and I managed to make a good deal, the company should earn a bit over a million from it, so that’s always a good thing,” you told her more, going into details on the deal and the work you did over the past five days.

All the while Tara nodded, congratulating, and praising you every now and then. Safe to say, you didn’t have to worry about money, and with how things were going Zack and Susan would be fine and able to pursue any interest.

~X~

Next morning you and Zack came back from the two-mile-long morning jog. Zack’s been training with you almost every morning, nothing too intense, but he went with you on a jog and did some cardio with you as well. He had no interest in martial arts though and just liked being active, and he liked to focus on the training he did do.

You followed him into the home gym you set up and, as he sat down to rest from the jog, you put on your gloves and began shadow boxing. It was one of your favorite exercises, as you moved in response to the imaginary enemy, maintaining the speed and power behind your hits as the doors opened.

You grinned, but you didn’t stop training. “Drawing again, Sue?” you asked, effortlessly switching from one stance to another.

“Yup!” Susan sat down next to Zack with a notebook and a pencil in her hands. While Zack had no interest whatsoever in martial arts, Susan did, though not the way you did. Instead of training or developing an interest in the uses of martial arts, she was mesmerized by the motions, the stances, the artistic side of it as she called it. Repeatedly she captured your movements and stances as she drew sketches, she later turned into detailed pencil drawings. She could easily depict a small fight scene through her drawings, and she was technically still nine. You were eager to see where her talent would take her. And while Zack lacked the more artistic talents, he had his own share of skills, mostly rooted in logic and math.

So, as you continued going through the motions you found yourself thinking you were the luckiest person in the world. You had two wonderful children and Tara with you, and absolutely nothing would make you happier than spending the rest of your life by their sides.

About an hour later, while you were in the middle of punching the sandbag you and the twins heard the doors upstairs opening and Tara came down with laptop in hand. “Baby you need to see this,” the urgency in her voice made you quickly take the gloves off, but the excitement in her eyes told you whatever she had to show you was good news. So, you took a few extra moments to wipe the sweat off your face as she set the laptop on the table.

Zack and Susan ran over to the laptop and paused. “UFC?” Zack read, puzzled.

You raised an eyebrow, that was the last thing you expected, but you leaned against the table and looked at the mail you got. “An invitation for the charity event? All the money made from the ticket sales will be donated,” you read, grinning as you saw the details.

“Is it because we have money?” Susan asked.

Now that you thought about it, you never really told them you were once a world champion. It just never came up.

Tara placed her arms around their shoulders and pulled them a bit closer. “Let me tell you a tiny little secret about your mom,” she winked at you and you pretended to not pay attention as the kids got excited over the idea. “Your mom used to be a world champion, the strongest female MMA fighter in the who world,” she fake-whispered.

“What?! Mom?!” Zack exclaimed, looking from Tara to you and back as if he couldn’t believe that.

“That’s so cool!” Susan shouted and ran over to her phone. From the corner of your eye you could see her Googling you and sure enough she found the proof of Tara’s claim. “It’s true! Look Z, she knocked one lady out in one punch!”

“No way!” Zack ran over to her, and you just smiled as you pulled Tara into a hug.

“You look happy,” you muttered against her neck.

“Mhm. I know you’ll accept,” she said and placed her arms on top of yours. “All these years and you’re still so strong,” she whispered as she turned her head and kissed your cheek. “My badass, adorable, MMA fighter.”

“I’ll show you adorable,” you grumbled, annoyed that she still pulled that out every now and then.

Tara looked a little too pleased with that. “I’m counting on that,” she spoke quietly, just for you to hear her. “Mmm, Daddy.” 

Fuck. She was going to be the death of you.

~X~

A month later you were more or less back in fighting shape and ready to fight. You felt good, light on your feet, with explosive punches and fast kicks and while you weren’t too confident in your grappling all these years later you had to admit that was never your go-to approach to begin with. So, here you were, once again in the octagon, surrounded by the fences and the crowd screaming your and your opponent’s name.

“You sure you don’t wanna give up, I’ll even bring you a chair so you can rest, after all, you might as well be a hag in the cage,” the girl was close to her prime, in her early twenties and, from what you heard, current world champion.

You just unzipped your jacket and tossed it outside to the team the organizers gave you and the girl paled a bit. She looked a bit like Anya now that you took a moment to look at her, only without any respect. “I’m good, brat,” you smirked bouncing on your feet and rolling your shoulders to warm up a bit.

The bell rang and the round began, and in that moment everything else disappeared, nothing mattered but the fight. Your body moved on instinct, with barely any thought in your head as you rushed the woman and landed a few quick, precise jabs.

She stumbled back, still completely open as you went for the haymaker and stopped right before your fist collided with her face. “Come on,” you pulled back and clapped a few times before beckoning her to come closer.

Her eyes narrowed dangerously as you smirked. She was faster than you gave her credit, but you weaved and dodged all of her attempts to hit you. You weren’t even keeping your guard up as she tried to go for your jaw. You just leaned back and brought your fist up, more bopping than hitting the side of her head, but she bared her teeth and tried to go for a haymaker.

You ducked and while her weight was off balance hooked an arm behind her knee and slammed her onto the floor. You didn’t follow up on it though, and instead just took a few steps back. You held up two fingers as she just blinked, looking at you as if she couldn’t believe what was going on. “One more chance, use it wisely, brat,” you said.

It wasn’t like you wanted to humiliate her, it was just that your instinct was to go for the killing blow, you needed to wait for the adrenaline to pass so you could follow all the rules. She tried again, though more cautiously this time. She was more precise, more focused, if you weren’t as relaxed and if she already wasn’t fighting at the pace you were setting she would have been a challenge, as it was, you just glided around the octagon, swaying and moving out of the way of her hits. She tried to knee you, but you just blocked her knee and pushed her back slightly. She stumbled and you went for a high kick. Her eyes widened, but once again you stopped before you could land the hit and stepped back once more.

“Warm up is over,” the easygoing smile disappeared from your face, leaving only complete focus on the fight. The cheers of the crowd became louder when you caught her in a clinch before she could even figure out that you went on the offensive. You hit her twice, breaking her hastily put up guard and then hit her face. While she regained her composure you went for a spinning back kick to the side of her head, ending the match with only a few hits and before the first round even ended.

“And the winner by knock-out is Y/N L/N!” the announcer shouted as the crowd cheered and you raised your arms high. You looked to the front row, to Tara, Zack and Susan cheering for you and, driven purely by emotions you swiftly climbed over the fence and ran over to them.

“Mom you were awesome!” Zack ran into your arms and Susan followed just a few moments later.

“Yeah? Your mom can still kick ass?” you lifted them up and kissed their cheeks.

“We have the strongest mom,” Susan giggled as her and Zack took the belt the judge was trying to give you. He looked uncertain but you just nodded, lifting your kids up higher as they raised the belt up high.

It was a short reunion with the octagon, only one fight, but you remained undefeated in your career, and you were satisfied. You fought one again, with rules and regulations and still won despite all of your instincts telling you to dispose of your opponent. And you got the chance to fight in front of your children, to show them who you once were, before the company, before training became just the way to stay in shape and capable of keeping your loved ones safe.

Eventually they gave the belt back to the judge and just hugged you tightly. With Zack and Susan still in your arms Tara stepped closer. Her eyes softened as she caressed your cheek, and then she just hugged both of your children and you at the same time.

It took years of trial and error, years of fighting to keep you and Tara and everyone else you loved alive, and you’d fight again if there was ever the need to do so. But right now nothing mattered but your family, and no matter what, as long as Tara and your children were by your side you would never be…

Lost.

A/N: So, that’s the finale, as far as the main story goes. As for the future of this story I want to do some side stories, some that are completely canon to Lost, and some that are more what-ifs than anything else. So, maybe I’ll write a few chapters about what would have happened if Tara called R over the night Amber first attacked her. Or maybe I’ll write something you request, so go ahead and tell me if there is something you’d really like to read. Truly, how often I come back to these two is as much up to you as it is up to me. Either way, thank you for reading!

Story masterlist / First part / Previous part

Taglist: @alexkolax

[teddypickerry]

A teen!dad jess. He has a best friend from New York (she can have a name or it can be Y/N, you can choose) (they are endgame, jess never had feelings for Rory but she has feelings for Jess, it won't go anywhere) Jess and his best friend have a kid, they co-parent (whether they are dating already or in the future is up to you) Jess gets sent to Stars Hallow, she ends up moving to stars Hallow to, to be close to Jess and so their kid can be with him too (she is emancipated, plus Jess knows she's coming because they keep in contact) if anyone reading this would like to turn this into an actual story, I'm totally down for reading it :) if you choose this request, I look forward to reading it. Thank you!!

↯ 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐈 𝐆𝐎 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐆𝐎?

pairings — teen dad! jess mariano x y/n

warnings — none!! (unedited tho so…)

word count — 2.9k

a/n — i’m not the biggest fan of how this turned out (feels lowk out of character even tho i typically write jess best bc i am him), but i LOVEDDDD this plot. i plan on making a part two if that’s something you guys would want!! also dad! jess is my fav (as you guys know) so to have him be bowie’s dad??? FUCKING LOVEEE.

BEING SENT TO STARS HOLLOW was worse than one would imagine. especially for jess mariano, a kid who'd been taken from his hometown and placed in a small apartment above a diner with an uncle he hardly knows. this would be enough to drive one mad, one could presume. but to make matters worse, he was leaving behind his son.

the moment liz danes found out her sixteen year old son had gotten a girl pregnant, she freaked out. as any mother would do. but liz wasn't just any mother, she was (to put it lightly) a whack-job. so she spiraled when she figured this one out. what happened when liz danes spiraled you may ask? who was there for her? her sane big brother, luke.

the practical idea seemed to be sending jess to the quaint down of stars hollow. a place where liz grew up, where she knew luke would keep an eye on him. where she also knew he couldn't cause any havoc. and his world wouldn't become corrupt like hers, being a teen parent.

the months of the pregnancy was difficult to be away. y/n was just a girl he'd met at a party, he was sick and tired of his mother's new boyfriend's hurtful words. y/n was going through something similar and they decided they'd lean on one another one night. until three weeks later when she called jess asking him to coffee, and surprising him with something much more. y/n was scared, as any pregnant sixteen year old would be. being without jess didn't help her case.

the teenage boy didn't let the separation get to them however. his nights sneaking out were spent at a phone booth in the middle of town, talking to y/n about everything and anything. his breaks at the diner were calling to ask about doctors appointments. sure, she had just been a girl he'd met at a party. but the emotional bond of a baby knitted the two together. they were scared kids, they had no one but one another. so they became much more than kids who once went to a party. they were friends.

when y/n went into labor, jess ran out of school like his life depended on it. hoping into his car and speeding back to new york. luckily making it so he could see his son born just in time. his first time meeting his son was only his fourth time seeing y/n. the fourth of many, many visits. stars hollow became less and less entertaining to him as time went on. especially after coming back almost two weeks after his son was born. the pranks, the stealing, the teasing around with this girl rory... it wasn't anything to him. he missed his son, he missed the woman who had his son. jess mariano wanted to be with his family. because for the first time in his life, he had a family. someone loved him, and he loved someone.

"1984 is the most overrated 'classic' book i've ever read," rory gilmore smiled at jess with a teasing look. now, almost a year after his son's birth, jess mariano was nearing eighteen. his adolescence was coming to an end (although it did when the stick turned pink). the toying around was still very much in his nature. hence the conversation with the good girl in a pink sweater.

"nu uh, it's a classic. you can't just hate on 1984," jess counters while standing behind the diner's countertop. the diner was slow, despite it being around the early afternoon and a sunday. which is why two teenagers were sharing false opinions like it was bible. he didn't like her — he was sure of that. ever since bowie mariano was born (guess who named him), jess's feelings had become aware. the love he felt for his son was prominent in his everyday life. unlike anything he'd ever felt before. it was hard for him to even imagine ever having feelings for someone. not when being a dad was his number one priority.

"you're just saying that," rory laughed at his words once more. her late night talks with her mother about jess seeming to not be recalled. the ones where lorelai stressed to rory what jess was going through as a teen parent, something she knew all too well. especially being away from his kid. in her eyes, he was a christopher who'd left his rory. lorelai didn't exactly want her daughter involved with that. but it was hard to resist when he kept giving rory that james dean look. matched with the leather jacket and the book references.

"when are you going to see bowie?" lorelai asked the teenage boy, attempting to remind her daughter of his priorities. jess didn't see this as a question with ulterior motives. he knew lorelai had a deep understanding of him, whether she'd like to admit it or not. "soon, hopefully."

"is y/n liking her new place?" luke questions genuinely from lorelai's side, being reminded of jess's child's mother who he'd grown fond of. "it's kinda hard to like a place where you're crashing on your friend's sofa bed." jess scoffs, being reminded of his friend's condition. when y/n had first gotten pregnant, jess was aware of the darkness in her home. especially when she freaked out to him one night. the first time they opened up to one another. she was too scared to tell her dad about the baby, knowing he'd hurt her.

less than two years later, y/n was emancipated. working a part-time job in the city. where her friends helped watch bowie when necessary. along with (hesitantly) liz, whenever jess made sure she was sober and had an okay boyfriend. it was a lonely life: just like jess's.

"that poor girl," lorelai commented with a sympathetic look making jess's stomach twist. he hated thinking about the living conditions of his family, he hated thinking of being apart from them. but when he did, he couldn't stop. which is why that night, when luke came upstairs to the apartment after closing, jess stopped him to have a serious conversation. "can i talk to you?"

luke searched his nephew's face for sincerity once he heard those words. curious if this was gonna be a 'steely dan sucks' conversation or an actual serious one. a rare option for the teenage boy. "yeah, what's up?"

there was a deep expression anguished on jess's face as he sat at the table. he was clearly unsure how to put his words, which was prominent in his eyes. "i... i can't be away from bowie anymore. i can't let y/n live in that shithole. they're my responsibility."

luke heard his nephew's words clearly. he agreed with every word, a sigh erupting when he processed the stress his teenage nephew was experiencing over this. "where are you going with this, jess?" the diner owner questioned with a calm tone. he still wanted the best for his nephew. he still wanted him to finish high school and start a worthy life. one he didn't want to be started by running off to new york and working to provide for his family. "i need to be with them one way or another. i can't be away from bowie, i can't do that to my kid. i can't be my dad."

"you're not, kid. you're nothing like jimmy, i'm telling you that right now. you would do anything to be with bowie and that proves you're better than him," luke explained before letting out a sigh and nodding his head. "you're a good guy, jess."

a conversation continued throughout the night until the two finally came to a conclusion. or at least luke did. taking matters into his own hands, he picked up the phone once his nephew hit the pillow. a hushed tone rushing into verses of explanations until it all made sense.

the next morning, jess mariano woke up like any other day. not too long after he woke up he went down to the diner to get started on work. his thanksgiving break had begun, so his monday would be spent annotating a new book for his son in between rush hours. it was when two familiar faces entered the diner that he hardly glanced up, noticing the gilmores immediately. "hey jess, how's it going?"

"well, i'm not bleeding or anything so..." jess shrugged towards the woman while he scribbled in a final note for an older bowie. rory kept her eyes on him while luke handed the two mugs of coffee. he had something in his head, especially when he kept glancing out the window every few seconds. "that's good," lorelai nodded before turning to luke.

"what are you reading now? more jane austen?" rory teased while eyeing the boy and taking a sip of her warm coffee. his eyes didn't dare look up from her while he shut the book, "uh huh." he nodded with a thin lipped smile. rory noticed the children's book in his hands and grinned, "didn't know you were that behind. that makes sense with your book taste though."

"this is bowie's, i'm just writing some stuff in the margins for him for when he learns to read," jess shrugged without noticing the sudden change in demeanor when he mentioned his son. the baby had never been to stars hollow. jess also rarely brought up his son to anyone, especially stars hollow-ers. miss patty and babette already whispered about the rebellion enough as it was. he didn't need to add to it by opening up to people who didn't care about him. "oh... that's sweet," rory forced a smile before sinking down into her seat. she felt shorter.

jess picked up the coffee to begin to refill a few cups throughout the diner. his stance was interrupted once the diner phone began to ring, luke noticed this quickly. it wasn't long before he grabbed the coffee from jess's hand and hardly offered to do refills for him instead. jess knew luke was up to something but hesitantly took the phone call, "luke's."

"nice greeting," a voice echoed on the other side making jess's infamous smirk spread across his face. y/n. "well, i thought i'd ask you to marry me. but i was worried our meat supplier was on the other line," jess teased into the phone while his hand went in his pocket. he subconsciously turned around so his back was to the rest of the diner. wanting to be alone with y/n, as if that was possible through this.

"thought so," y/n hummed with an obvious smile. "hey, bowie's missing his dad."

"is bowie's mom also missing bowie's dad?" jess asked with his typical teasing tone towards his friend. "bowie's mom may be. but she doesn't exactly want to give him the satisfaction of that. bowie's dad is very cocky," y/n says through the phone while luke spots something through the window and smiles.

the sound of the bell was a familiar one. reminding the people in the diner that someone had arrived. jess was so used to it now that he didn't bat an eye typically, but this time he glanced around his shoulder for a moment. his eyes glancing back at the figure stood infront of the door. jess's brown eyes locked on them for a second as he dropped the wired phone and bolted past the counter to them.

stood before his eyes was y/n and bowie. the eleven month old was in her arms with a pacifier between his lips. y/n wore a smile while she placed her phone in her pocket with a free hand. she was engulfed in jess's scent immediately as he threw the two into his arms. cigarettes, cheap cologne, and coffee erupting comfortably into her. "hey, watch out i have a baby."

jess ignored her words, but lightened his grip on her while taking bowie out of her arms to hold him. "bowie, hey..." his voice trailed off as he held onto his son. he was interrupted with emotion by being with his son once again. because as much as fatherhood was something he never wished upon himself, ever desired whatsoever, it had turned into the best thing that ever happened to him.

"hi kid," luke greeted the teenage girl while walking over to give her a side hug. he turned his attention towards jess who was hugging his baby with a grin he hadn't seen in awhile. "i thought about our talk last night, jess. you were right."

jess glanced over at his uncle before looking back at y/n with a smile. which shocked even him, because a smile was not something he'd done while being in stars hollow. "so..." luke's voice trailed off while he gave the floor to y/n. who took it and looked at jess, "i think bowie needs to be with his dad... and his mom."

the group shared a few looks, mixed with confusion and happiness. "i asked lorelai for a favor, y/n and bowie are gonna stay at the inn for a few weeks. until you guys can figure out a place." luke started with a nod. "you're gonna be eighteen in a few months, you're gonna graduate in a few months. i want you to do that, jess. so, i brought you some courage... as cheesy as that sounds."

jess looked between the two for a moment before sharing a nod with his uncle, as if a thank you in their own language.

"hey, i'm lorelai. it's nice to meet you i've heard so much about you. we seem to have a lot in common," lorelai interjected as she walked over and introduced herself to y/n. y/n knew her fair share of scoop of the town. her daily phone calls to jess were hardly just baby talk. she'd spent a lot of them telling him to go out with lorelai's daughter, who seemed good for him. but every-time... something was holding him back. "yeah you too, i'm y/n. thank you for everything, by the way. you really didn't have to let me."

"c'mon we're moms, we help eachother out. we can be like desperate housewives. but with no men," lorelai smiled while giving y/n's hand a squeeze. "oh! this is my bowie, rory."

"hey," y/n greeted with an awkward wave towards the other teenage girl who still seemed in shock by the situation. she forced a smile and waved, "hey."

the dispute was a lot more awkward than y/n could have hoped. but a sense of envy had taken over the both of them as they reflected on past or current relations with jess. an awkwardness that washed away quickly when y/n’s eyes locked back on jess and her son. a favorite sight of hers.

“c’mon,” jess nodded towards y/n while she took the baby out of his arms. he grabbed her bag and placed a free hand on her back, mumbling goodbyes before exiting the diner with his two. the three took the scenic tour towards the inn. bowie cracking a million smiles at the tons of birds in sight. the two teenagers reciprocating the action with shared giggles at the baby’s happiness.

the moment they entered the room, jess sat down with bowie to let y/n unpack a little bit. while the two caught up on unspoken things. “so… that was rory,” y/n says suggestively while unpacking her toiletries in the bathroom. jess was sprawled out on the bed with bowie in his arms, playing superman. he turned to her once she erupted from the bathroom and took a seat beside him. “that was rory.”

“she’s pretty,” y/n nodded with a small smile. in an attempt to be polite about jess’s possible love interest, yet he seemed hardly interested when bowie was around. “i guess,” jess shrugged before holding bowie back up in his arms. “have you asked her out yet?”

“i’m not too focused on that,” jess answered while clearly wanting the conversation to be done. y/n only smiled at the sight of the baby, gently rubbing his back. jess’s eyes locked onto her once more. watching her look at bowie with all the love made his eyes gleam. the way her smile spread with love, only made his heart beat faster happily. “thanks.”

y/n glanced over to him at his word, furrowing her eyebrows gently while she looked into his eyes. “for what?”

“for being here, i guess.” he mumbles while turning back to face bowie and bring him closer to him, the baby resting his head on jess’s chest. y/n smiled at the sight while leaning into the pillow, happily watching the two. “of course.”

so, the two laid back into the bed. smiling at the sight of their baby falling into a comforting sleep. followed by y/n minutes later, at a moment of peace. finally having someone she trusted with her baby so she could peacefully have a break. jess shut his eyes to the sound of the light breaths of both his favorite people. never having felt something so perfect once again in his life.

[aftgficrec]

Staff Recs - Autumn Roundup 2024

Some fics with fall vibes to warm your soul. -AFTG Fic Rec Fam

previous recs:

staff fave Halloween here (includes previous Halloween recs and supernatural roundup)

Fall Exchange 2020 here

‘doubt thou the stars be fire’ here

‘morbid stuff’ series here

‘The End Is Up To Us’ here

‘Autumn Crocus’ here

‘The Suit Universe’ part 8 here

‘Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy’ here

‘FoxTail Cafe’ series part 13 here

‘Apple Picking Day’ here

‘Fair Games’ here

‘little ghost’ here

‘Lucky Strike’ here

‘Foxglove Court’ series here

‘Thanks for nothing’ here

‘Teaching a caged bird to fly’ series part 5 here

‘Sugar, Spice, and Corporate Espionage’ here

‘The Massive Continuity of Ducks’ here

‘Spell it Out’ here

‘10 tips to stress less, without the tips’ here

‘Being So Normal’ here

‘Aidan Minyard’ here

Honeycomb by moonix [Rated T, 10871 Words, Complete, 2023, Locked]

In which Kevin owns a restaurant in a picturesque small town, Andrew is his chef, Neil disrupts the routine, no one gets poisoned with mushrooms, and life isn't so bad.

tw: implied/referenced eating disorders, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced self harm

Seasons of memory by butallmystars [Rated G, 4772 Words, Complete, 2023]

Neil was all sorts of alluring and unusual; a thin strip of seemingly restless energy, eyes moving almost as much as his legs did, the bespoke lines of his blazer the most uniform thing about him and yet somehow not out of place.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse

you wish I was yours (and I hope that you're mine) by lesbiankaz [Not Rated, 9526 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2024]

“Aaron Minyard,” Allison said in a dramatic tone. “Truth or dare?” Aaron rolled his eyes. “Dare.” Kevin wasn't surprised. He knew Aaron would prefer to do a stupid dare instead of telling a single thing about himself. “I dare you,” she paused, making suspense, “to spend seven minutes in heaven with Kevin.” - Kevin has a crush on Aaron. Allison tries to help.

5 ultra-cute fall date ideas that will make your man fall more for you by Bravbo [Rated G, 1364 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2024]

The problem starts with one Neil Josten. Neil who has apparently never celebrated any holidays. Neil, with his blasé attitude about violence. Neil, with his distressingly blue eyes and freckles. Neil, who Andrew want to put on a jar and study like a bug. Yes, Neil Josten is a problem. It´s him that has driven Andrew to this, seeking advice on google like a teenage girl just to make sure Neil has the best holiday.

tw: fire

Float Down (Like Autumn Leaves) series by Apaleyellow [Not Rated, 7309 Words, Collection, Updated Oct 2024]

Part 1: fill my cup half empty (because it's never been half full) [5221 Words, Incomplete, Updated Sept 2024] The boy's face in the reflection was pale, almost translucent, with freckles dotting his cheeks and auburn hair falling in untamed curls around his face. His eyes were an icy blue, piercing and filled with a haunting sadness. Nathaniel Wesninski. The Butcher's son. The ghost of the manor. -- OR -- The one where Andrew is a best-selling horror author who visits the Wesninski Manor in search of inspiration for his next book.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced murder 

Part 2: would we survive in a horror movie? [2088 Words, Complete, 2024] Their moment was interrupted by Seth's booming voice. "Alright, losers. Time for a real story. Ever heard of the Butcher of Baltimore?" -- OR -- The one where the Foxes are telling scary stories around a campfire and only Andrew knows who Neil really is.

tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced murder 

penchant by rooftopkisses [Rated T, 5051 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2024]

When Neil is recruited by Coach Wymack to join the track team at Palmetto High School, he draws the attention of Andrew, the artsy loner, as well as Kevin, the sport’s current state champion.

Rebel Rebel by Andreil_pipedream [Rated M, 7905 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2024]

October settles down on the small town outside of Baltimore. Werewolves start haunting the forests and a certain orange cat gets curious. Nell meets an interesting girl who she may or may not have a crush on. After an awkward first meeting, things are made worse- or better- when she finds out they go to the same school. After a few risky decisions and oblivious flirting, she gets a date where everything starts to go wrong.

tw: child abuse, tw: extreme transphobia, tw: gaslighting, tw: confinement, tw: food deprivation, tw: implied/referenced murder

it's still the autumn leaves by TogeMythia [Rated T, 3389 Words, Complete, 2024]

‘Can I come with you?’ Andrew paused, he was sat on the floor with one foot awkwardly in the air and a black sock with an orange pumpkin pattern halfway pulled on. ‘What?’ He asked. ‘Can I come with you? Wherever you are going.’ - or Neil and Andrew spend an autumn afternoon together.

A Bushel and a Peck by justdk [Rated T, 1405 Words, Complete, 2020]

Andrew picked a few low hanging apples, handing one to Neil. They wiped them off on their shirts and snacked on them while they looked for the rest of the team. The sweet, tangy juice filled Neil’s mouth and ran down his chin. It tasted way better than a store-bought apple. Overhead crows called to each other and the smell of apples filled the crisp, autumn air. Neil closed his eyes and breathed in deep, holding in the feeling of freedom and possibility. When he opened his eyes, he found Andrew looking at him, hazel eyes warm and steady. [or: the Foxes go apple picking]

Bets, Blind Dates, and Dares. Oh My! by makebelieveanything [Rated T, 3761 Words, Complete, 2021]

Andrew loses a bet to Aaron and Kevin and he has to go on two blind dates - they go about as well as he would expect. Is Andrew stuck in a rom-com or is this really how life works?

gourd vibes only by otatop [Not Rated, 3750 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2021]

A mini road trip up through New England to meet the foxes.

Disparity by Jeni182 [Rated G, 3781 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2021]

Andrew is a criminal justice professor who keeps finding excuses to visit the library where a certain red head works.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced self harm

hopscotch heart by moonix [Rated M, 2046 Words, Complete, 2021, Locked]

Podfic here

Neil has a terrible time at a party. Andrew shows up and Neil has a slightly less terrible time at a party.

tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: anxiety

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness by seaspeak [Not Rated, 869 Words, Complete, 2016, Locked]

In which Jean falls in love with the Fall, thanks to Jeremy

There Was Only One Pumpkin by familiarwildflowers [Not Rated, 2275 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2021]

To get Nicky off his back about his dating life, Neil decided to lie. Surely there would be no consequences? That's what Neil thought, until, while on a visit to a pumpkin patch, Andrew's lot steps in and he's forced to confront his lie.

Pumpkin Patch by H_bee69 [Rated G, 1600 Words, Complete, 2023]

Part 1 of Spooky times and autumn vibes 

Neil wants to go to the pumpkin patch and who is Andrew to deny Neil.

until I fell off from that peak by eeveepkmnfan [Rated M, 4817 Words, Complete, 2023]

Neil Josten lives and tries to come to terms with what that means. Or, Neil collects leaves - Andrew vocally protests.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse

Forever Falling by cshogg [Rated G, 1370 Words, Complete, 2023]

Snippets of Neil and Andrew's life during autumn: trying new things, rewriting traumatic experiences, and learning to love the seasons like normal people do.

[petrichor-idyllic]

Hellooo how about a Minho x she/her reader where Minho has been hit by the lightning and hs the scars and one day Reader walks on Minho being half naked and she traces his scars and theres tension building up ;) THANK YOU

I love lightning scars Minho so absolutely.

This is a relatively new request, but I'm trying to get some of the easier ones done since I'm currently away.

And I just liked this idea.

SPARKS

MASTERLIST | MINHO MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: See above. After TDC in the Safe Haven. You're a Right Arm member because I just like the idea.

WARNINGS: Inappropriate language, spice, typical dumb horny teenage bullshit. That's it, really.

You're a member of the Right Arm.

You're not high-ranking or necessarily special. You just ended up tagging along after Vince came through the refugee camp you were staying at.

But that doesn't mean you don't do anything. You're bold and forward, and you went through life-risking measures to help WICKED's Subjects escape.

Because, well, everyone did.

That doesn't matter now, though. They're safe, you're safe - everyone is safe and everything is okay.

Well, kind of.

Trauma doesn't just vanish. But, people are getting on with their lives.

And so are you.

You've ended up befriending some of the Gladers. Originally, you were friends with Harriet and Sonya since they'd been around a while - and they introduced you to the boys. So, you've got your own little friendship group now.

You're particularly close to Frypan and have some friendly competition with Gally. But you like them all the same.

Well...

Almost.

You don't know what it is about Minho that has you in such a chokehold. Sure, maybe if you were some innocent girl from a Maze who didn't know how to act around boys, it would make sense. But you're not.

You've survived the Scorch and the land outside of the remainder of society. It's not like Minho is the first person you've ever been attracted to either. So, why does he make you feel like this?

Apart from the fact he is undeniably attractive.

You figure it's just dumb surface level physical attraction. And with nothing else better to do, you decide to test the waters a bit.

Glancing at him across the table as the bonfire dances and his friends chat, often meeting each other's gaze. He holds it longer than he should. He always does.

Always standing or sitting next to him; your arms or your knees brushing as neither of you make any effort to grow the distance between you.

Playful inside jokes that often have subtle suggestive undertones. Normally, in a blink-and-you'll-miss-it style that the other Gladers brush off or don't notice. This results in Minho smirking into his chosen beverage, drinking up your figure out of the corner of his eye.

It goes on like this for a while; just being in the same friend group with some subtle flirtations going on. It's actually kind of fun and a much needed way to relax.

But it doesn't actually go much further than that. And you're fine with that.

For a while.

The jokes start becoming more explicit. The eye contact becoming less subtle. The closeness becoming drunken dancing instead of just standing together.

People are starting to notice.

The dumb attraction is starting to become actual feelings. He's brave and strong and funny and everything you want - and it's just making the sexual tension thicker.

God - it's getting bad. Anyone and everyone in a room with you two would be able to feel it.

The Gladers often tease Minho about it, talking about how he's one wrong move away from ripping your clothes off and cracking where he stands.

It's taking a lot of resilience from the both of you. Especially since you're both stubborn - it's become a silent game of who will crumble first.

"Hey, (Y/N)!" You're currently sorting out bedding and hauling different types of sleeping arrangements around camp. With Gally being put in charge of the Builders now, the huts are being thrown up like there's no tomorrow.

The Gladers and other Maze Subjects got the first available buildings, along with high up Right Arm members. You don't really mind, to be fair, you enjoy the hammocks and are happy to help the Gladers.

But as Thomas shouts you, you groan, turning around, blankets threatening to spill out of your hold. "Hey, Thomas. You good?"

"Yeah," something seems off about him as he fiddles with the hem of his shirt, "I know you're already busy, but could you check on Minho for me?"

"Huh?" You tilt your head, concern immediately setting in. "Why? Is something wrong?"

"Uh," Thomas did not think this far ahead of his dumb plan. "Well, we just haven't seen him all day - seems kinda down. Figured you'd be the best person to speak to him."

This perplexes you. "Why me? You guys are closer."

And you could've sworn you'd seen Gally and Minho shoving each other about earlier today. Though, maybe you're just mixing up your days.

"Yeah, but he likes you, so..." You pause, farrowing your brows. He likes you? In what context? Like you know that he likes you. But... like, more than just the dumb flirting?

You shake it off. "Alright, gimme a second."

You dump the bedding off where it needs to be and make a beeline for Minho's hut.

Little do you know that Minho has just gotten out of the shower - and is completely fine. Thomas and Frypan decided they'd had enough of enduring the tension between you and this is the result that.

Reaching the door, it's slightly ajar, and in your concerned state, you, for some reason, decide not to knock.

"Hey, Minho, are you-?" You push open the door and immediately freeze.

Well, shit.

Minho stands with his back to you, loose sweatpants hanging off of his hips and he's without a shirt. He rubs his hair with a towel, freezing at your voice and turning slightly to look at you.

Which would be less awkward if you weren't in some kind of trance.

Minho is tall and muscular, and he doesn't have to be half naked for you to be aware of that. But, that's not what's stands out.

All over his upper body, mainly populating his back, are pinkish lines. They travel down his spine and split like webs across his back, some whisps creeping across his sides and grazing his front.

"You just gonna stare or ask me about it?" Minho says after a good few seconds pass.

What do you even ask?

"Uh, what... why..?" You trail off and Minho raises his eyebrow before scoffing.

"I got hit by lightning." He states matter-of-factly. "Ended up giving me some scars."

"When did that happen?"

"Out in the Scorch, just before we met Brenda and Jorge."

"And you never mentioned this?"

"Well, it didn't seem like a big deal," he smirks. "And I'm kinda enjoying the look on your face."

This kind of snaps you back into reality. You're here for a reason.

You clear you throat, closing the door behind you for more privacy just in case the ex-Runner is on the verge of a meltdown. "Are you... alright?"

"Uh, yeah, why wouldn't I be?" Minho is growing more concerned by the second. What is happening here?

"Well, Thomas said that something was wrong and asked me to talk to you."

Minho scoffs, putting the dots together and slowly nodding his head before rubbing his face with his hands. "Did he, now? Shuckin' slinthead. I knew they were up to something."

"Huh?"

"They're messing with you - us, even."

"Huh? Why would- oh! Oh."

Ah. That makes more sense. And is mildly mortifying.

"Yeah." Minho shakes his head, turning away from you again as he mumbles to himself. "Sorry, my friends are dicks."

"It's uh, fine. It's fine."

Your gaze falls back on Minho's chiselled form. He's practically mouth-watering.

And it's not like this is weird. You've been pushing each other's boundaries since day one. This could be another opportunity to see how far you can take things. I mean, he would if this were the other way around. So, with a sudden peak in confidence, you walk over.

Minho chucks his towel on his bed. "So, are you-?"

Minho doesn't even get the chance to finish his question as electricity sparks through him. Again. This time, not because he's nearly dying, but because your fingers graze his back.

His entire body stills, his mind immediately becoming foggy, and the hair on his arms stands on end.

"Do they still hurt?" You ask, your gaze focused on his skin and your voice low.

You're gentle in your moments, letting your fingertips barely tickle his flesh. But with the immediate and tense reaction, you're reminded that Minho is about as touch-straved as someone can get.

He's just good at hiding it.

"Uh, no, not really. They kinda feel weird sometimes, and I was really buggin' out about them when I first noticed them. But I guess I had bigger klunk on my plate." He tries to maintain his composure, but his voice wavers at several points.

You bring your hand higher, dancing across his spine and between his shoulder blades.

"Why were you buggin' out?" You've grown somewhat used to the Glader way of speaking.

He hesitates for a second, physically jumping when your other hand joins in, using your thumb to rub circles and pull at the scars threating to escape to his middrift.

"Well, I uh- shit," he mumbles the cuss word, stepping back more and into your touch, letting his head fall back. "I just... they just look weird, yanno?"

"I think they look hot."

Okay, you're becoming very bold.

"Hm? You think I look hot?" He asks, half-looking over his shoulder at you, not wanting to fully turn around and lose the feeling.

"That's not what I said."

"That's what I'm askin'."

You blink at him, watching his lopsided smile creep across his face.

In a game of confidence - Minho will always win.

Which means trying to play it cool.

"I just think scars are interesting, they tell a story."

"Do you go around touching everyone's scars, then?" He cracks a wicked grin you can't see as he turns his head away again. "That might get you in a bit of trouble around here."

"Yeah, but not with you." It actually is genuinely fun tracing the patterns in his skin. You have one hand following one path and the other following a different one.

"Oh, yeah? How do you know that?"

"Because you like it."

He peers at you again, his face suddenly serious and his tone lower than before. "You're really starting to push it, yanno that?"

"Push what?" You tilt your head, pretending to play innocent.

"You know what."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"So, you're just feeling me up because you think my scars are hot?" He scoffs. "That's what's happening here?"

You think for a second. Fuck it. "Yep."

"Well, there's more scars if you wanna touch them?"

Your eyes flicker to his face, letting your arms fall from his skin. He turns around, holding his hands behind his back, he rocks on his heels.

From his back, travelling to his front are smaller webs of the scarring. At first glance, you thought they only reached around his sides, but now you're realising there's thinner, less noticeable branches trailing across his abs.

He presses his lips into a thin line, almost like he's calling your bluff. Because this is the game you've been playing. Pushing each other. And you've pushed him so he's pushing you.

Though, this very well might end up being the breaking point.

Too stubborn to back down, your hand connects with his stomach area. He flinches, but very quickly relaxes again. You gently run your fingers across the lines and the curves of not only the remains of the electricity, but of just his body.

Your eyes flicker to his face as you expect him to make some cocky comment about how that's not a scar. But he doesn't. His eyes are fixated on your hand.

It's a feeling he's never really experienced before - watching someone enjoy him. Someone touch him with such care. With such want. Someone touching him like this at all is new.

And it's you.

You're the one touching him.

You.

And that's making it so much worse.

He doesn't make any effort to hide or stop the tightening sensation in his pants or the way his chest is rising and falling. His mind is falling into complete fog; he feels like he's taken something he probably shouldn't have.

You notice it, too.

"Minho-?"

"Shut up," he says almost immediately, eyes finally meeting yours. His pupils are wide and his eyelids heavy. "This... this isn't fair. You can't..."

He seems a strange mix of stressed and turned on.

"Okay, I'll stop," you pull your hand away, but he immediately grabs it, laying it flat against his middrift. "Minho?"

"Don't," he mumbles. "Don't stop." He can't look at you properly.

God, what's happening to him?

"Look," he continues, trying to gain some sort of clarity for a second. "If you're just messing around, that's fine, but leave now, okay? 'Cause this is getting cruel."

His words and the way he's acting is sending heat straight to your core. You step towards him, your faces inches apart.

"Are you caving, Minho?" Your voice is sultry as your hand slides further down his front.

"Are you?" He responds, leaning in further, your noses brush and you can feel his breath on your face.

"We can't keep doing this, yanno? One of us has to break eventually." You mumble, practically into his lips.

His eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips.

"Shuck it," his hands come to your waist, yanking you closer as he finally kisses you. You squeak from the force behind it as you throw you arms around his neck, clawing into his back to try and steady yourself.

It takes a matter of seconds for Minho to spin you around, pushing you onto the bed, both of you tangling together. Desperation sets in fairly quickly.

Minho's hands under your shirt as you try to pull it over your head. His lips on your neck and chest as he slips a hand under you, trying to yank your jeans down. You leave stains on his skin from your nails.

It's a blur of emotion and hormones.

Then Minho hesitates as he sits back. At first, you think he's just admiring you as you lay in your underwear, but there's something else.

"You good?" You ask, becoming concerned.

"You know we're not gonna be friends anymore if we do this, right? Like the flirting and klunk is fun, but this is different. We can't take this back. A-and I've never done this before. I don't wanna shuck up our friendship or make things weird."

You blink at him before sitting up. He watches you as you move onto your knees and kiss him again.

"I don't wanna be your damn friend, Minho. Take the hint."

It's like there's a light behind his eyes, a smile creeping across his face, but unlike his usual cocky smirk, it's soft and warm and genuine.

He pecks your lips. It's sweet and unusual for him. "You wanna be more than friends, then?"

"Yeah," you chuckle, "but I'm sure we can worry about that later. We're a bit busy right now." You wrap your arms around his neck again, lightly touching the scars on his back. He grins at you, connecting your lips again as he pushes you down.

He pulls away, his teeth brushing your ear lobe as he lets out a low chuckle.

"Sounds like a good plan."

Here ya go, another spicey Minho piece for y'all.

I hope you enjoyed :))

[babybatss-blog]

ik youve nvr done a fic for sam from sdv but I saw you are happy to!

Could I get fluff where he teaches you how to use his skateboard?

ROUGH DAY

Of course love, that’s such a cute idea! I don’t know much about skating but I did date a girl who skated, so I hope it’s accurate ~

Sam (stardew) x f!reader, 1300 words

Cw: swearing, suggestive language and blood.

Life in the valley is relaxing as you’ve always dreamed it would be. After leaving Zuzu city, you craved a boring normality, without a standard nine to five job and screaming criminals outside of your window at three am when you’re trying to sleep. You do also kind of miss the fun you had in your teenage years though, causing trouble and giving grey hairs to your poor parents. Perhaps that’s why you love Abby, Sam and Sebastian. Being two years younger than you they tended to remind you of trouble-free times, often getting you into antics you wouldn’t dream of now you’re attempting a proper adult life in the scenic countryside.

After doing your simple tasks on the farm you check your phone to see a message from Abby. “Yo we are chilling outside of Sam’s if you want to join :)” You smile at the text, as you’ve only been here for a month and a bit and the three have already welcomed you in so graciously. So you grab you back pack and set off, to spend the day in the sunshine with your new friends.

When you arrive, Abby and Sebastian are sitting on the grass playing Arctic Monkeys on a small speaker, while Sam is skating on the path in front of them. “Hey!!” You call, causing an enthusiastic wave from Abby and a less enthusiastic one from Seb. You thought he hated you, but the others assured you he was ‘just like that’. Sam on the other hand, whips his head up and looses balance on his board almost immediately, causing him to fall flat on his ass on the harsh concrete.

“Shit Sam are you alright?” You say, scrambling to his side to help him up. Despite what you deemed to be a serious tumble, Abigail and Seb merely laugh at the poor boy, pointing and insulting his clumsiness. “mm I’m alright…” he grumbles, dusting himself off with a pink blush coating his cheeks. You can’t help but notice how cute he looks in his flustered state, but choose to not dwell so much on the thought as it somehow feels wrong inside your stomach. “So… What are you doing?” You ask, quickly changing the subject away from your awkward silence. “Just skating. I’ve been trying to kickflip but it’s honestly harder than I thought it would be.” You respond with a confused face, clearly not understanding his complex lingo as if it’s another language entirely.

“Show her what you mean dipshit!” Abby calls out, her and Seb somehow still chuckling to each other. Why are they doing that you wonder, Sam fell over ages ago! This also spikes Sam out of the same confusion, which causes him to explain exactly what a kickflip is. “Right. So, a kickflip is basically just flipping the board as you jump, and landing on it afterwards. Pretty simple but I just can’t get it!”

Simple? You think to yourself silently on how intricate the whole ordeal sounds, but decide not to argue with him on it. Afterall, what do you know about skateboarding? “Here, let me show you what I’ve got so far.” He says, wasting no moment to let you advise against it as he promptly rides off. His nimble legs kick the board into a twist, and he jumps as if a bird in flight. But on the landing, his feet completely miss the centre of the board which causes him to catapult forward!

You start to leap forward (as if it will help in anyway) but he artfully rolls out of it and bounces up to his feet, showing a dorky smile and thumbs up almost immediately to soothe any doubts you may have. “See what I mean?” He walks towards you with an unearned swagger, picking up his board on the way and smiling. How this man hasn’t died yet you have no idea. “God Sam, I don’t know how you even attempt something like that… I can’t even ride forward on a skateboard!” He begins to chuckle at you, before stopping in his tracks with a wide eyed expression. “Hey, I can teach you! I’ve tried to Teach Abby and Seb like a million times now but they never want to. You can be my skating buddy.

Immediately you know how much of a bad idea that is. Flinging yourself onto a wheeled board, on concrete and without any protection? No thanks. But seeing Sam’s wide smile, setting up the board and pondering the best approach to teaching just makes the whole thing so damn appealing. Who can blame a girl, wanting to spend time with a cute guy?

So you roll your eyes, but still walk over to the board on the other side of Sam. “Okay so when your ready grab my hands and step onto the board. We are just going to practice balance for now, I’ll lead you up and down the path until you don’t need to hold on to stand up straight.” Sam sets his hand out on top of the board, calloused and strong from years of falling over and playing guitar. Taking a deep breath, you grab them. They’re warm and safe. You step onto the board, shaking on the spot but somehow still standing up. “Good girl…” He says, making your stomach knot up. You know his simple affirmation shouldn’t make you feel that way, but you cannot help but feel the butterflies building up within your walls.

Abigal and Sebastian seem to have the same idea, as the pair who you had forgotten were still watching arc up, Seb with a wolf whistle and Abby with some loud clapping. “Ignore them.” He says, clearing not getting the inuendo the rest of you recognised in his words. With slow yet dangerous steps Sam leads you forward, both of your eyes trained on the board below you. A smile grows on your face at the success, feeling an odd sort of accomplishment despite the small task. His hands pull away from yours, which you know was the goal of this but still makes you somehow upset.

You hold you breath as if you are on a tightrope, trying desperately not to fall off. You almost had it too, until Sam gives the board a light push and it catapults out from underneath you! Your three friends all leap up, taking your fall much more seriously than Sam’s previous ones as both your right leg and two palms draw blood on the harsh contact below. A string of mumbled curse words leaves Sam’s mouth as he rushes to your side, while all you can do is just sit their in defeat. “Fuck I’m so sorry, I thought you were ready to have the board moving. Are you bleeding?” You only nod back, raising your hands to show the raw skin you have developed. Sam scatters off like a nervous school boy into his house to grab his mothers first aid kit, as Abby and Seb sit next to you. “Good job there.” Seb says sarcastically, causing you to blush even more. “Shut up.” You reply. “I wanted to seem cool.”

To this Abigail envelopes you in a hug. “Girl you are cool! You don’t need to prove yourself to us or anyone! Plus, Sam already thinks your cool.” She says with a smile. “Really?” You ask, hopefully in your question as if it will solve all your issues. Both her and Seb reaffirm this, as Sam now rushes back outside (almost falling over himself again in the process) to pick you up. “Come on, I’ve got some bandages and ointment in the kitchen for you.”

He slings your arm over his shoulder and hoists you up effortlessly, helping you stumble into the kitchen. Truthfully, your small scratches don’t need all this attention, but you’ll take the excuse to be close to Sam once again.

[kosmicdream]

Please don’t think of me as a male artist.

..is what i used to feel, for many years, even when I finally came out as trans. In a way, its one of the factors that kept me from pursuing HRT (which im so glad i finally did.) After only one year, my feeling on this hasn’t evaporated completely but i suppose I kind of don’t care anymore about how I am interpreted, as a person/artist, ect.. It isn’t something i can be in control of anyway, which upsets me less than it used to.

Sometimes in the past, the way i write characters has often been analyzed by the gender I am, or appear to be - that my male characters were written like how a woman writes men (too emotional/vulnerable, ect) , or how my female characters are written thoughtlessly- like how a man would. (too horny, stupid, violent, ect.) Its not a new way to analyze a story but I can’t say that it doesn’t annoy me. It could still be true that my characters/writing could fall into sexist/problematic archetypes, but gendering my work based on the way my characters act always reminds me of the “you draw like a girl/boy” comments, which used to be more frequent when i was a teen.. But the idea that boys = angular, good at cars! Or something and girls are, i dunno, gonna draw sexy anime men or something. Even as a teenager, i hated this idea that my art was “girl art.” Truthfully, i always viewed my art and myself as an artist as genderfluid, maybe even a type of drag performance, where i can explore any gender and not be limited by my body, it was my escape from that. Which naturally, it became my place to explore gender presentation and eventually helped me “crack my egg” of realizing i was a trans man.

I do think its important to reflect or regard my work as the art made by a trans man, or transmasculine person. I feel more and more just like “just a dude” these days. I am also a gay man. I think those things are important to my work. I think that the analysis of my work in regards to my identity as a person is important to reflect on. I also think the steps I took to get there were important, that transformation and my continued exploration of my older selves and more “label-less” self in the art i make. That’s a private space for me, that I happen to share with the world too. I feel the audience is part of my work too, I welcome it even. I have become part of the audience too and I look at my work as if I’m also a stranger. The older my work gets, the more of it I can study, the more I can see plainly how I got here and also it feels so confusing how it did. I try to study my art to help me find where I want to go to next, a map to guide me. 

In some ways, I feel more lost than I did before, where all my instinct was pushing me was just to grow and explore as much as possible. Now, I don’t have that same type of energy that I used to. Its not a bad thing, its just different. There’s a sense of duty and commitment and a sense of dread of the time it takes to do what I feel compelled to do on this step of my journey. I am trying to focus more on the things I used to think I was incapable of before and I’m trying to remember the things I used to think were so effortless. I can tell my art is sharper but it feels almost like a mimicry of my older selves - at least when I revisit old work to continue its journey past where its been frozen in time. Comics take a long time, after all, it's normal that after a few years - a story might be yours, but it feels like it belongs to the past of you too, maybe more than it does in the present. I like the commitment I have to my comics though, its not a burden to me. The feeling is strange anyway. 

I tend to think that 1-3 years of a project being made, those are the honeymoon years of the relationship. But you hit a wall in 4-5 years and sometimes you’re in denial about it, you try to keep the dreams and feeling alive as you drag it forward, and sometimes the project really reaches its end around 8-10 years and it becomes a type of empty promise to return to it. Not that this is true for every artist, every project, ect. But I think its a natural lifespan for comics that I’ve observed, and it's because it is uncomfortable to face morality and the morality of our own art. Art is this escape, and when it becomes a job - or an uncomfortable mirror into these things about ourselves, about our failures and promises we couldn’t manage to make, the pressures of the audience, the boredom of the task if you have already told yourself the story a thousand times and you have no longer a desire to continue it, ect - its a normal and natural feeling to want to drop it off a cliff. Blow it up, start over fresh - I know the feeling! Its happened many times. But its kind of temporary? Then, it cycles back to nostalgia - and the desire to create and recreate and reform the past to something tangible again.. uh

Sorry, sorry.. I am getting far from the point I started with. Not that any of this makes too much sense, I feel like writing it anyway. It bothers me that the fantasy of art to me, is the ability to dissolve yourself and stop existing, you are the creator creating. You don’t need to be confined by, really anything. It is in “your control” now, and you surrender your own control by falling into the art and letting it “lead you” places. This is a very seductive process and while it might temporarily be fulfilling (even when done for a lifetime) cannot really.. What.. completely fill the void of whatever you’re chasing down there? Its nice though. At least, when I think about when i first started drawing comics, it was to draw Vash the Stampede (from the original 98 anime series, i hate the new one. We’re not talking about there here) coming out of my television after a thunderstorm and he had to just live in my house now. It was the closest thing I could do to actually manifesting that as reality, of making this amazing anime husband come to life to just like live with me now and be my boyfriend. In a lot of ways I don’t see my pursuit of writing ocs, specifically male ones, really much different from this same desire of like “i can just make my perfect boyfriend!” born out of the loneliness I felt in my heart, and the fear that there is no boyfriend out there for me so i need to frankenstein my own - and this boyfriend will be poifect in every way. Or like, crafting the perfect “relationship” in replace the lack of one, or just the fantasy of watching very abstract extremes come to life in various puppets i crafted, beating the shit out of each other for entertainment. But to subject all these.. Abstract Internal conflicts as simply like a “boy author thing” or “girl author thing” is like.. Tiring. Are we really not past that? (Of course not.) 

Like there’s some hidden truth to the way someone might write/draw, the way that “makes sense” in retrospect once the identity of the author is analyzed and discovered.. How can you make sense of the self, let alone the other .. and In a way that’s permanent? And gendered? Does art now have an inherent sex characteristic? But I cannot deny that I do want my art to look and feel like part of who I am, what I have chosen to sexually identify as - a transgender, a man, a faggot. I DO identify as a sexual deviant, but that is hilarious because I have been single for so long at this point I can’t even remember in a tangible way what that felt like and I question if I ever felt it or experienced it “for realsies” because of the experiences I have had or havent didn’t feel very fulfilling or romantic, despite that being something I desire so much - and so I feel like a failure. And to create art just based on the fantasy of desire rather than the lived reality, can it even really display what that would actually be like. So its embarrassing, right? 

I have worked on my art a lot and I have often thought, or come to the conclusion (true or not) that my singleness is the result of my pursuit and dedication to art - which is the pursuit of self isolation and protection from harm. From influence, from acknowledging that life can exist and someday end. And when you work on projects for years and years, the pride/shame dichotomy only gets more.. Weird. It gets weird, guys! It always was weird, but.. I just think about so many my heroes, my art inspirations, working decades on their art.. I follow in their footsteps too and it feels scarier and lonelier than I expected it to be. And the more and more I realized that as a reality, as my 20s faded away, the more I kept walking. I wasn’t gonna stop now, even if I could, I don’t want to and its not hard to do other things too. I have a slower pace than I used to (thank god) and gets slower but I’m still moving. 

I don’t post or write my little art journals as much as I used to. Mostly cause I don’t really have anything good to say and it kinda feels embarrassing to post them too LOL. But.. whatever!! Its been a weird four months of me being off work and I’m about to go back to being a normal working person again.. But its like, its weird to tell people about your art when they ask about what you do. Its like “oh yeah, i draw webcomics” and they wont get it, you’ll say - “yeah its 8,000 pages long” and they’ll say, “thats a lot!” and it is. They’re very nice about it, but there’s a lack of satisfaction there with what that means. I don’t expect it, that’d be dumb as hell. Its nice to take a break from it too, to discover other sides of myself I never let shine because i stayed indoors for a decade, but its a weird feeling too. Like, what will it mean in the end? I don’t really know. 

I don’t think I need “success” to feel like this was worth it, its not like a trophy is gonna come in the mail for the good workTM I’ve done - there is no closure to the work I make even when a story finishes. I have to keep going regardless of that, and its strange to know it won’t ever feel done. But I am so thirsty for that temporary itch to be scratched, it keeps me working every day for the “maybe” of what that might feel like. Kinda silly, really. Is it my “male” pride that demands recognition? Would respect be given more freely if I had “remained” to be perceived as a woman, for subverting the expectations for what a woman can/can’t write? (lol) Is my value as a person determined by that sort of thing in my art? I don’t think of my pride as gendered, but I know its there and I know because of who I say I am, my pride will be gendered by others. I think when I was a woman, that pissed me off more than now because.. Well.. I wasn’t even living as the way i wanted to. I still don’t really live as the way I want to, the way I want to be perceived, but even being on HRT for a little more than 1 year, without much else lifestyle changes, I feel a little more at peace not mattering what others will take away from me or what i write about. I have a lot of my own expectations for myself and what i write about and that concerns me far more. 

I don’t really know how else to end this, I’m going to eat chocolate now. Oh, to answer your question (?) if you might have this one: can I think of you as a male artist, kosmic? sure. I am one after all.

[lilysbookshelf987]

New camper: Percy Jackson x reader (daughter of apollo)

A/n: thank you so much for giving this a read! This is my first time writing for the PJO universe so let me know if you like it! Requests are open! No NSFW or Smut! Enjoy

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

"Good morning" Percy said tiredly, greeting his best friend Grover at the dining pavilion, taking a seat next to him.

"Morning" Grover replied, "hey did you see Annabeth on your way here? She's usually the first one here and I haven't seen her yet"

As if almost on cue she was walking towards the boys, an excited smirk painted across her face.

"Camp Half-Blood has a new camper!"

"What?!" replied Percy

"She showed up late last night, all alone. Chiron told me she had been hurt pretty badly but he took her into the infirmary and gave her some Ambrosia"

"She took it? So, she's definitely a half-blood?" Percy asked

"Yep! We should be meeting her later today" Annabeth was ecstatic, she loved new campers!

--time skip--

As the day went on there was still no sight of the new camper. Word had made its way around camp and people began to take their guesses as to who was her parent.

"I hope she's in our cabin!" A child of Aphrodite had said

"No! I bet she HAS to be in ours! Showing up without a Satyr by her side means she's a warrior"an Ares kid chimed

"As long as she's not in ours I dont care" a tired looking Hermes kid said.

It was almost dinner time when Chiron had found Percy, sparring with someone from the Ares cabin.

"Percy can I speak to you for a moment?"

"Yeah sure" he said, removing his helmet and recapping his sword.

"Im sure you've heard we've had a new camper join us."

"Yeah it's all over camp" he replied

"Ah yes. Well let's say she hasn't been thrilled to learn about her new family. Reminds me a lot of you when you first came here"

Percy thought back to his first few days at camp. He was confused, scared, angry, and very much overwhelmed.

"I was wondering if you could help ease her mind by speaking to her. You understand what she's feeling better than I can."

"And im not half horse" Percy smiled

"Yes there is that" Chiron chuckled

"Alright I want to meet her!" Percy agreed. He really did want to help, but he also knew how jealous Annabeth would be that he met her first. The two walked into the big house and there she was, staring down at her feet.

"Y/N, this is Percy, son of Poseidon. Percy this is Y/N. I'm sure you two will get long swimmingly" Chiron chuckled at his own joke, "I will give you two some privacy" with that, he left the room. Leaving the two teenagers alone.

An awkward silence filled the room, when finally Y/N broke the silence.

"Son of Poseidon, huh?" she asked

"That's me" he smiled, proud of the title he held.

"That's crazy, the gods don't exist!"

"They do exist. I know it all feels a bit insane at first but-"

"A bit?! My whole life i've had these things coming after me and I didn't understand why. I thought I was insane and seeing things, but apparently that's normal?! And my dad? The reason he's neglected me my whole life was because he was a god?! There's just no way"

"Hey, it's gonna be ok. I know how you feel. I felt like that when I first got here. All my life my dad wasn't someone I had thought about much because I had my mom, and thats all I needed. Then I find out that he's now the most important thing in my life? I had so many emotions, but if you just give this place a chance? I promise everything gets a lot less scary"

This seem to get to the girl. She started to tear up.

"Ok, i'll try." she whispered

"I'll show you around and it'll all be ok, I promise."

The two made their way around camp, Y/N was mostly silent. "The sun is so warm here, it's not like that where I'm from"

"Everything is a little bit stronger here."

"I can tell" she smiled

"So, do you have any idea who your dad might be?" Percy asked, careful not to poke at the sensitive subject.

"I think but I'm not sure. My mom used to talk about Apollo, a way she never did about other Gods"

"Ok then...then we have to find a way for him to see you! If he see's you, he'll claim you!"

"Yeah but how?"

"Gods dont claim you because they feel like it, you have to work for it" Annabeth said, inviting herself to the conversation.

"Y/N this is Annabeth, daughter of Athena"

"Hey" Y/n said

"Percy have you taken her to the archery field? Apollo kids thrive there"

"No I didn't"

"Seaweed brain c'mon!" Annabeth rolled her eyes, "Lets go" she led the two there and put a bow and arrow in Y/N's hands. The girl had fired it easily and hit the bullseye.

"Beginners luck?" y/n asked

"Go again" Chiron said, but before she could something came flying down at her, she shot it down easily.

"That could've killed us" Percy said, mouth agape, "and you shot it down with ease!" he said

"Look!" One of the campers said

Y/N was becoming engulfed in a bright light and a sun appeared over her head. She was now an official resident of cabin 7

[juuuulez]

📰 | part seven: capulet.

info: Carl Grimes x Saviour! Reader, father figure Negan my love, enemies to lovers/slow burn, kinda angst but not emotionally yet, graphic violence, attempted sexual assault, um this got kinda dark, also long.

summary: Once again, you are tasked with babysitting Carl, this time leaving Alexandria to find supplies. An unsuspecting attacker causes a rift in your feud.

eesh this is intense but also very succulent to write i LOVE LOVE LOVE some action!

also thank you all for 150+ followers!!! pls continue to send ideas to my inbox i’m absolutely eating it up <3

You’re really starting to get sick of this heat.

It’s sweltering, sticking your clothes to your skin, sweat patches running down your back and dampening the white tank you usually wear.

In favour of not being bitten, you wore the typical black jeans, which are doing absolutely nothing to combat against the unbearable heat.

Unfortunately enough, there isn’t any air conditioning in the Sanctuary, so you’d agreed to return once more to Alexandria with your father.

It had been a few days since your last impromptu visit, a week, actually. Though you’d previously been frazzled, irritated, you took the time to cool off and work through some pretty ugly emotions back at home.

Now, it was down to business, which meant giving strict orders to Saviours on where to check, what to take. Making sure everybody wrote things down, followed their routine.

“Woah, woah, woah! What do we have here?”

Your head snaps in the direction of Negan’s voice, who is standing at the gates, leaning against an old, beaten down car with the engine on. As you approach, the familiar outline of a sheriff’s hat comes into view through the rear window, and you almost want to turn away and forget you even saw anything.

“Now, I sure as shit hope you weren’t planning on leaving unsupervised.” Negan jousts at the teenage boy, still leaning against the passenger side.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out where this is leading, and you shoot your father a tired little glare. “Can’t Dwight do it? Or, I dunno, anyone but me?” You plead, not exactly in the mood to be in a confined space with Carl once more.

For all you knew, he might swerve off the road to try and kill you.

Negan doesn’t let this slide, “Nope! You’re an excellent babysitter, doll. Best girl for the job.”

You bite your tongue against any sort of protest, still having not revealed the true extent of your last encounter with Carl. It would only cause unnecessary stress, you deducted.

At the beginning of this whole apocalypse, Negan had been cagey about letting you do just about anything. It only took a one bad incident to turn on his protective mode, and you felt like maintaining your freedom for a little longer.

“Fine.” You sigh, but instead of climbing into the passenger side, you skirt to the other end of the car. “Out, now. Leave the keys.”

Carl glares at you with an open mouth, clearly displeased about not only having his trip hijacked, but now being ordered around. “I can drive.”

“Don’t care. I’m not gonna risk you goin’ AWOL.” You tell him, unfortunately deadly serious, much to the boys’ dismay.

With an angry scoff, Carl departs from the drivers side, instead getting into the passenger chair. You sit down, leaning over to adjust the seat in order to ensure your feet would reach the peddles.

With Negan gone, having departed to keep a keen eye on the Saviours, you reach into your belt and pull a small handgun from the holster. This catches Carl’s attention, as he’s never seen you carry a gun before.

You hand it to him.

“One bullet,” You instruct, tone more serious than he’s ever heard from you. “Don’t fuck this up. It’s emergencies only. You’re lucky I don’t just let you die out there.”

He accepts it wordlessly, not wanting to push that very thin boundary.

The sweltering heat is worse in the car, harsh metal keeping the thick air inside, and you doubt it had any working cooling system.

Luckily, this proved to be less of a problem as you begin driving, the air whipping past your faces and offering a slight relief.

Carl gave you directions, but after the third instruction, you were beginning to get a little fed up.

“Why don’t you draw me a map?” You suggest, one hand on the wheel while the other brazenly fishes around in your back pocket, managing to pull out a small notepad. “Then I don’t need to listen to your voice.”

“What, like you can read?” Carl comments, a snide remark that contrasts the fact that he does take the notepad, flicking through pages in order to find an empty one.

His eyes are drawn to the little graphite sketches that adorn the pages, his thumb tempted to swipe the paper back and have a peek, but he resists.

A few moments later, and Carl hands the notepad back to you, which you hold in front of the wheel in order to get a good look. Your brows furrow, finger tapping against a strange looking blob.

“What’s this?”

Carl leans closer, brows pinched as he looks at the drawing. “A tree.” He says, as if it were obvious, despite the artwork being significantly less than professional.

“Okay?” You take your eyes off the road, giving the boy a confused, critical gaze. This only feeds into his temper, where Carl suddenly takes the notepad from your hands, drawing a few more scribbled lines on the so-called ‘leaves’ of his tree.

“So you know where to turn,” He specifies, like this would solve all of your problems, “At the end of the road. There’s a tree.”

You struggle to find your words for a moment, unsure how the simple action of drawing a map has just made this more confusing. “There are trees everywhere, dumbass. That isn’t helpful.”

“Well, yeah, but it’s a big tree,” Carl scoffs, throwing the notepad back onto the dash, opened so you can see it. “This wouldn’t be happening if you just let me drive.”

“Oh! Okay,” You turn to him, “I would have let you drive, had you not tried to shoot me. So, fairs fair, asshole. This is your fault.”

“I said I was sorry!” Carl retorts loudly, uncaring of how you’re no longer looking at the road, or about how fast the car is travelling.

You roll your eyes, “That doesn’t count. Murders don’t get let off scot-free just because they said two puny words.”

“That’s barely comparable!” He continues to push the conversation, all that pent up anger and frustration towards your adamancy against him starting to bubble up. “It’s not my fault that you’re, like, deranged or something.”

That was it.

You slam your foot on the breaks, sending the car skidding a few dangerous meters ahead. In that time, you brace yourself against the steering wheel, but Carl jolts uncomfortably against the seatbelt.

“What the fuck—”

“Get out.”

He looks at you like you’re actually insane, trying to decipher whether or not you’re being serious. But you only stare at him, glaring actually, jaw clenched in irritation.

“Get out!” You tell once more, needing Carl to get the message that you simply can’t be around him anymore. Not with all the arguing and bickering, it was getting on your last nerve, and you just needed some space to breathe.

With a huff, Carl obeys, but not without slamming the door shut. You run a hand raggedly through your hair, starting the car up once more and placing your foot on the accelerator.

“Fuck you!” Carl yells as you drive off, giving you the finger in hopes that you’ll see it in the rear view mirror. You probably didn’t, but it makes him feel a little better anyway, like he got the final word in.

But as the car disappears against the horizon, he’s left there, on the dusty road in that horrible summer heat. Sweat already sits on his nape, making his shirt uncomfortably sticky, and now he’s tasked with walking the rest of the way.

All because of your tantrum.

With the advantage, you make it to the abandoned gas station in record time. Thankfully, it wasn’t too far from where you’d ditched Carl, so you knew that he would be fine walking. You weren’t that cruel.

It’s relatively run-down, and you can only spot a few walkers mingling near the store’s back end. You keep your bat held tight, stalking through broken glass and tipped shelves to find anything of use. Whilst you don’t know what Carl had in mind for this trip, you could make a few assumptions, and managed to collect a small pile of minimal medical equipment, snacks, and even some baby food.

It was peaceful, actually.

Maybe a little too peaceful.

Slinging the bag of supplies over your shoulder, you approached the car once more, intending to drive the way back and pick Carl up along the way. He shouldn’t be too far off, at this point. You lean over, starting the ignition and popping the boot open, letting the supplies rest there.

But as you circle around, something catches your eye. A shiny glint on the ground. You poke it with your boot, only to realise that it appears to be a small razor blade.

Dread floods your system, and as you bend down to inspect the peculiar object, it hits you.

The tires, each one of them, have gone flat. Air completely let out, slashed. Unusable.

No escape.

You clench your jaw, rising to your feet once more, the metal bat still in hand. Someone was here. With what intentions, you didn’t know, but you could assume it wasn’t good.

Cautiously, you take a few steps backwards, towards the gas station. You watch the open space ahead of you, eyes steady on the treeline, inspecting for the most minute of movements that could betray the whereabouts of this potential attacker.

Except it doesn’t come from behind.

One steady thunk and your head is colliding with the concrete wall, to which the shock causes you to drop the baseball bat, one hand clasping the wall and the other digging your nails into the wrist of your attacker.

A firm hand has collected your hair, gripping onto your ponytail, fingers pressed into your scalp. You fight and squirm, but the body of a much larger man presses behind you.

With your stuff in the car, you can only imagine what he might want.

Despite this, you don’t scream, teeth clenched as you struggle to evade his grip. A harsh stomp to his foot assists your escape, where you’re able to land one solid punch square to the man’s jaw, before his leg swipes your balance out, sending you crashing to the concrete.

You almost twist onto your stomach, but the attacker is too quick, once again fisting your ponytail and slamming your face into the ground. One, two, three and you finally stop struggling as vigorously, blood and mucous caked all over your face, mixing in with chipped cement and dirt from the floor.

But the baseball bat is so, so close.

There’s one hand still in your hair, another on your back. Now waist, then stomach. Gross, burly fingers circling the button of your jeans.

A singular moment of weakness is all you need, where he’ll let his guard down, and you can leap for the bat.

Unfortunately, you know what form this weakness comes in.

You’re panting like a wild animal, trying not to squirm, carefully calculating your next move until suddenly there’s a loud pop then whistle that whirs past your ears, the sound almost making you flinch, before the weight of your attacker slumps against your body.

Crimson blood drips down onto your shoulder, coating your neck and back, the cold shock helping you regain enough consciousnesses to shuck the dead body from your smaller frame, scurrying out from underneath him.

The pavement is searing hot against your palms, you can even feel the burn through the thick material of your jeans. As you sit up on your haunches, looking around, you spot him.

Carl, crouched behind a few bushes, tentatively lowering the handgun.

One bullet.

As he begins to approach, you wipe some of the blood onto your arm, smearing the disgusting gunk further around your skin, which is still persistently dripping from your nose and mouth.

Gravel has surely made its way into the open wounds, but you do nothing about it. Not now, at least.

Carl approaches you slowly, putting the handgun back into his holster, and that genuine look of concern on his face makes you feel sick.

When he gets close enough, arms reach, you bristle and firmly shove him away, sending him stumbling a few steps backwards.

“The fuck did I say?!” You yell at him, directing all your rage and anger towards the corpse lying at your feet, back at Carl. “Emergencies only. What happens now, huh? I don’t have another bullet!”

He looks completely shell shocked by your outburst, not having accounted for such a reaction. But it doesn’t matter, as you’re still shouting, even as he stands there dumbly and watches.

“I had that under control!” You grunt, once again wiping at you nose, which runs with a mix of snot and blood.

When you garner no reaction from Carl, this frustration only continues to fester. You lean down to the ground, swiping up the baseball bat and clenching it hard in your palms.

You approach the body once more, and with one hefty swing, completely obliterate the man’s skull. Later, you would claim this was being proactive against potential walkers, but in the moment in was nothing more than revenge.

When you’ve entirely crushed the skull, you move on to the neck, spine, arms, torso. Anything. There comes a point where you’re no longer hitting to destroy any evidence of what happened, but hitting simply to feel some semblance of control. Blood spurts onto your jeans, some even reaching your tank, a darker colour that contrasts with the bright red of your own.

“Hey, hey. Cool it.” Carl is saying from behind you, and when you show no acknowledgment of his words, he reaches out to place a hand on your shoulder.

You shrug it off, but otherwise drop the bat, letting it clang harshly against the concrete, rolling a few feet away and leaving a gorey trail.

At this point, you try to clear your head, take stock of the situation. The tires are slashed, deeming the car useless. It was beginning to enter late afternoon, and though the days were hot, the nights were freezing. Not only that, but all this shouting has likely attracted whatever walkers you’d hoped to leave unsuspecting.

Finally, you spare a glance back at Carl, who’s been watching you this whole time. It looks like he’s on edge, waiting, ready for whatever you’re about to do, however irrational. A few specks of blood have made its way onto the sleeves of his flannel, where you realise how close Carl has been standing to you, even during the little outburst.

“Fine,” You mumble, answering his unspoken question. “No point heading back. Best push the car into some shade, camp out there for the night.”

Carl takes this as permission to contribute, though he still speaks to you with a level of cation. Mentally, you accept this as fear, but you know very well it’s actually concern. “I know the area pretty well. There’s a cabin not too far off, it was clean last time I checked.”

It’s reasonable, even if the idea of following Carl into the woods makes goosebumps rise on your skin. You’d rather not, especially now that he’d used the sole bullet, which you had none of on hand.

You chew on your busted bottom lip, nodding, accepting this makeshift plan. “Yeah, okay.” You sigh, almost sounding defeated, but nonetheless you pick the bat off the ground and stride back away from the gas station, not bothering to consult Carl any longer.

This was going to be a long night.

[illuminatedquill]

🖌️ 🧠 🖼️ for the Sabezra Secret Santa Ask Game?

Another one, thank you

Here we go . . .

🖌️:

Favorite Sabezra work I’ve made - Sweet Christmas anon, you’re asking me to pick a favorite among my children? Sheesh.

. . . Well, gun to my head, I suppose my favorite would have to be Princess Lenora and the Starboy. That one came while writing another fic because Sabine needed a favorite fairytale and I just came up with it on the fly. The idea was so good that I had to write it out fully.

It’s my favorite because Star Wars is, at its heart, a modern fairytale. All the best stories are, really. So, I always jump at the chance to add to the tapestry that is Sabine and Ezra because I think their relationship is essentially a core theme of what makes Star Wars great.

This one is near and dear to my heart because of how nicely it wraps up with Sabine and Ezra’s last words to each other. It was a joy to write.

🧠:

Favorite Sabezra headcanons - hoooo boy, do I have lots of thoughts about these two.

- I wrote about this recently in my domestic Sabezra fanfic Quiet Night, but Sabine and Ezra split the house chores between cleaning and maintenance. Sabine handles the latter, with Ezra doing the former.

- Since these two were denied a proper childhood/teenage experience, they are absolutely silly in their adult years and indulge in stuff that others of their age would deem childish.

- Sabine is horrendously down bad for post-exile Ezra. Who can blame her.

- Ezra continuously grapples with Sabine’s Big Decision during the events of Ahsoka that allowed her to find him. He tries to make up for it by constantly pushing himself to be the best he can for everyone around him. Anything less, in his eyes, would make him unworthy of what Sabine did and the cost it took on the galaxy.

- Sabine does not cook. Ezra handles all the cooking.

- Ezra and Murley are secretly rivals for Sabine’s affections. They play nice when she’s around, though.

- Sabine is secretly filthy rich thanks to being from high ranking Mandalorian family but she doesn’t really care about money. Ezra, having lived on the streets of Lothal as a child, almost has a heart attack when he sees how much money Sabine has when they make a joint bank account.

- If there is a Tumblr or A03 that exists in-universe, then Sabine has an account and constantly looks up Sabezra content. She shares the best stuff to a group chat with Hera, Zeb, and Ahsoka.

- Sabine and Ezra have really good singing voices and actually release some albums under a pseudonym band name (Starbird and the Wolf).

- Sabine never returns to Krownest, instead choosing to rebuild her clan with Ezra on Lothal, with their beloved comm-tower as the new Clan Wren residence.

- As a surprise gift for Sabine on one of her birthdays, Ezra takes her to an art gallery with portraits of her during candid moments that were all drawn and painted by him. Their first child, Mira, is conceived later that night.

- Did I mention that Sabine is down horrendous for Ezra. Well, I’m mentioning it again. It’s important.

I have so many more. Maybe someday I’ll write about them later.

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Favorite Sabezra work that someone else has made.

Any art by @alphaofdarkness. Go check out their work, it’s super gorgeous, and also Eman Esfandi and Natasha Liu Bordizzo have seen and liked it.