#minus any extras

[kirric-the-fan]

Me, almost reaching halfway in my precure outfits challenge: Nice.

Me, realising that the number of cures done would fit a deck of cards nicely (or closely enough): Interesting... o.o

Me, realising that the total number of cures could be tweaked to make enough drawings for TWO sets of cards: ...very interesting

[grouptale-bits]

How would the interactions with the characters from Deltarune and Grouptale AU Gang go like?

But please keep in mind of these particular Deltarune characters when trying to make the interactions:

Kris

Susie

Ralsei

Berdly

Noelle

Lancer

Here’s a few decent sketches I scrounged up

Kris + frisk and minette:

Kris I feel is awkward around children so it’s really funny to think about frisk and minette following them like ducklings



Susie and lancer + fin:

Team chaos really lancer dared fin to give him a piggy back ride and fin totally did it. Then fin dared Susie she couldn’t give the both of the boys piggy back rides but she totally could and did. They all probably ended up falling.

Ralsei + adien:

They have similar personalities so I’d think they’d get along swell. Together they could bake the biggest cake the dark world has seen

Berdly + lumen:

Berdly saw a kid with glasses and a notebook and immediately self asserted himself as lumens mentor/role model/hero much to lumens dismay

Noelle + Caleb:

Noelle I picture is better with kids then Kris but not so much with quiet older ones like Caleb so they kinda just awkwardly (on Noelle’s end) end up standing next to each other till Caleb ask Noelle if she wants to learn moves from the nutcracker. They then dance together albeit Noelle doesn’t know ballet so she’s not great but the two are having fun.

[im2tired4usernames]

My parents should be fuckin ashamed

[allyouzombies]

guess who's back in their compassion fatigue for library patrons era!!!

[volfoss]

It's gonna be really bad if I get hooked into arena like I'm going to become a whole new breed of weird guy posting

[koravelliumavast]

shout out to the stats TA who gave the entire lab the answers to all but one of the assignments due this week and the only time we didnt get to assignment number 5 was because we ran out of time

[lubdubology]

Soft Edges

SYNOPSIS: Logan doesn't know how to relax. So you help him.

PAIRING: Worst!Wolverine x fem!reader (Although minus the quick blip mention about the Void, you could imagine any Logan you'd like)

WC: 2K

WARNINGS: sexually suggestive innuendos; non-explicit descriptions of nakedness; playful banter; kissing; mild swearing; feeeeeelings; honestly, just tooth rotting fluff

A/N: I haven't written anything four hundred and eighty years seven years and I'm honestly kind of nervous about this. I thought my writing muse was long dead and buried. But here it is, seemingly revived. The idea for this story kind of just fell out of my head when I should have been napping while my toddler napped. The story won out. I hope you like it! <3

You wake with a jolt to the sound of Logan’s alarm blaring from his phone. From beside you comes Logan’s low, “Ah, fuck,” before silence reclaims the room. 

It’s early, the first rays of morning light just barely peeking above the horizon. You roll over and peer over your pillow to find Logan pulling on a pair of jeans. 

“I thought you were off today,” you mumble sleepily, laying your head back down and admiring the way his muscles move as he slips a shirt over his shoulders. 

He looks back at you with a soft smile. “Didn’t mean to wake you,” he says, continuing to dress. “Picked up an extra shift at the yard.”

Since returning from the Void, Logan had picked up a smattering of odd jobs to earn money. A couple of months working at a quarry. A per diem for a local contracting company. Currently a lumber yard thirty minutes outside of town. Despite notoriety for helping save the entirety of existence, some employers still had qualms about hiring someone from another universe. Not that he cared. You think he was just happy being useful. 

You reach for him and pull him down for a kiss. You can feel the curve of his smile against your lips and it’s these soft moments about him you love the most. “Do you even know how to relax?” you ask, snuggling back down against the rumpled sheets. 

“I relax,” he replies, standing up to grab his boots at the end of the bed. 

You can’t help the snort that escapes from you. “Name one thing you to do relax,” you counter, watching through half lidded eyes as he sits back down on the bed to lace up his boots. 

Logan pretends to think about it and then smirks. “You.”

He chuckles as you whip his pillow at him, your aim off as it sails harmlessly past his head and onto the floor. You hide your smile as he looks down at you, his eyes warm but still tired. “Relaxing really ain’t my style, sweetheart.” 

“You deserve it though,” you say, stifling a yawn. 

Logan looks down at you for a moment, his smirk fading as something softer settles in his expression, but he doesn’t respond to your statement. He stands and shrugs on his jacket, straightening out the collar before leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. 

“Go back to sleep,” he murmurs.

You watch him leave and as you settle down to steal a couple more hours of sleep, you hatch a plan to show him just how nice relaxing can be. 

+++

You hum to yourself as you cook, the aroma of roasted potatoes and chicken filling the apartment. You’re just about to start on the green beans when you hear the jingle of Logan’s keys in the lock and the door swings open with a heavy creak. 

“In here, babe!” you call from the kitchen. 

“I could smell this all the way downstairs,” he comments, tossing his keys on the counter. “What’s this for?”

Logan wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you tight against his frame, nuzzling his nose where your neck and shoulder meet. With a smile, you reach back and lightly scratch your nails through the scruff along his jaw. He smells like sawdust and smoke as you press a light kiss to his cheek. 

You savor these moments with him. When you’d first met him, he was distant and wary, years of trauma causing him to be guarded. He warmed up slowly, his touches lingering longer and his words spilling more freely. But now, moments like this—where he’s soft and affectionate—have become more frequent. Logan craves touch and you are more than willing to reciprocate. 

“I thought you could use a nice dinner,” you say, your hand still tracing the line of his jaw. “Long day?”

Logan lets out a low grunt in response, his forehead resting against your shoulder. “One of those days where every idiot with a hammer thinks he can DIY,” he mutters, his breath warm against your skin. 

You smile and give his head an affectionate pat. “Well, you’re home now and I’ve got everything handled here. Dinner will be ready in just a few minutes.”

He pulls back just enough to look down at you, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. “Sure you don’t need help?”

“You try and help me, and I’ll beat you with this spoon,” you tease. 

Logan laughs and raises his eyebrow. “Promise?”

You smirk, giving him a playful nudge to the ribs with your elbow. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Logan.”

Logan’s eyes crinkle at the corners, the kind of smile that softens all his sharp edges. He gives your waist a gentle squeeze before stepping back, his fingers lingering just a beat longer. “Alright, alright,” he says holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I’ll just go wash up.” 

As Logan retreats to the bathroom, you hear the rustle of him changing out of his work clothes and the thud of his boots as he tosses them to the floor. You finish dinner, resuming your quiet humming as you set the table. You finish plating everything when Logan emerges, work clothes changed for a fresh t-shirt and jeans. 

“Come eat, Lo.”

He joins you at the table and gives you an appreciative look as he sits down. “This smells incredible.”

You sit across from, watching as he takes the first bite, a prickle of anxiety setting along your spine as you wait for his reaction. A low groan of pleasure rumbles in his throat. “Fuck, this is good.”

A grin spreads across your face as he takes several more bites like a man starved. “I experimented with the cast iron skillet,” you comment as you watch him. “Looks like it was a solid impulse purchase.”

The two of you settle into a comfortable rhythm, enjoying the meal and sharing small pieces of conversation. Logan helps himself to seconds and as he finishes, he wipes his mouth with a napkin and sets his gaze on you. “You didn’t have to do this, you know,” he says, his voice low and warm. 

“I wanted to,” you reply simply. “And, like I told you this morning, you deserve it. Let me help you relax, Logan.”

There’s a pause, his expression softening as your words settle over him. You know he’s not one to ask for much and you can tell his savoring this moment. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” His voice is gruff but there’s a tenderness there that makes your chest ache. 

“A good something?”

He smiles. “The best somethin’.”

You finish dinner, swatting him away when he offers to help clean up and banishing him to the living room. Dishwasher loaded and leftovers put away, you join him on the couch. “Care to indulge me once more?”

He quirks his eyebrow. “What did you have in mind?”

+++

Logan stares at you dubiously as you lead him to the bathroom and gesture towards the tub. You flash him a grin as a frown tugs at the corner of his mouth. “It’s just a bath, Logan.”

He eyes the tub as if he’s waiting for it to swallow him whole. He crosses his arms across his chest. “I don’t do baths,” he mutters. 

You roll your eyes and place your hand on his chest, gently pushing him further into the bathroom. “Yeah, and you don’t relax either. Just humor me.”

Logan gives you a look—half amused, half reluctant—as he allows you to continue to nudge him closer. He reaches up and scratches at the back of his neck and blows out a sigh. “Fine,” he grumbles, “but only if you join me.”

You laugh softly, leaning up to press a kiss to his chin. “Tough bargain, but I accept.”

You turn from him and run the faucet, letting the tap run until you find the temperature sweet spot. Satisfied, you toss in some bath salts, the scent of eucalyptus quickly filling the room. The tension in Logan’s posture eases as you finish preparing the bath, but he still eyes you like he’s not entirely sure what comes next. 

Once the tub is filled, you shut off the tap and turn back towards him. “Okay, now strip.”

Logan smirks and raises an eyebrow. “Oh, so this is what you really wanted.”

“You’re not that hard to get naked, Logan,” you say with a laugh. 

He chuckles, but follows your instruction, pulling his shirt over his head. As you join him in undressing, you can’t help but admire his physique, his muscles flexing and gliding beneath his skin. You shimmy your panties down your hips as he kicks off his pants, leaving you both bare. 

You feel his gaze heavy on your skin as you step into the tub and beckon him to join you. He steps in, sitting down so his back is against your chest and he lets out a low groan as the warm water envelopes him.  Wrapping your legs around his hips, you cradle him and feel the tension ease from his muscles. 

“See?” you say, leaning to press a kiss to his temple. “Isn’t this nice?”

Logan peeks up at you and smirks. “The naked woman helps.”

You grab a washcloth and dip into the water to dampen it before running it over his chest. “You don’t have to admit you like it,” you say, rubbing the cloth in gentle circles along his collarbones. “You’re basically a wet noodle in my arms.”

He makes a wordless noise in the back of his throat and closes his eyes as you continue to wash him. A comfortable silence surrounds you, soft drops and splashes of water and the faint background hum of your apartment the only noises interrupting your space. You continue to wash him, gently massaging his shoulders, arms, down to the long fingers that know how to play you so well. A deep groan rumbles through his chest as you rub your fingers across the skin in between his knuckles. 

You eventually let the washcloth sink and wrap your arms Logan’s chest. He molds his arms against yours, lacing your fingers together. “I don’t deserve you,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. 

You shake your head and hold him just a little tighter. “You do, Logan. Despite your past, you’re a good man and you deserve someone to help shoulder your burdens.” Your voice is sincere as you press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Or least help you relax every once in a while.”

You soak until the water cools just enough to chill your skin. Reluctantly, you untangle yourself from him and nudge him to stand. He’s already got a towel slung low across his hips as you step out and he doesn’t even let you grab your own before pulling you close. 

A yelp dies on your lips as he cradles your face in his hands, thumbs pressing into the corners of your jaw as he tilts your mouth up to him. He inhales deeply through his nose, his lips moving expertly over yours, his tongue seeking the warmth of your kiss. 

You lean into him, your fingers trailing along his ribs and pressing into the damp of his skin. Logan kisses you once more, a gentle press to the corner of your mouth before he lets you go. 

“So,” he starts slowly, “Now that you’ve shown me how you relax, can I return the favor?”

A mischievous gleam dances in his eyes and he doesn’t give you time to answer before slinging you over this shoulder. Your giggles echo down the hallway as he carries you and he kicks open the bedroom door before setting you down on the bed. You scoot back and stare up at him with an expectant glance.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he says with a grin, “My turn.”

[radiance1]

Killer Croc's little bro was apparently in Gotham.

How did everyone know? Because he was seen physically dragging said older brother out of the sewers and into the nearest cafe.

And Killer Croc was just. So docile??? He was shy, a bit nervous, amused, and was practically harmless. Which wasn't something anyone would have associated with Killer Croc.

And the fact that said little bro can lift him up easily too? What kind of parents did they have for their son to be able to lift up the Killer Croc so easily?

Meanwhile, Jack just doesn't get why everyone reacts negatively to his big brother, it's not like he was a ghost for goodness sake and yea he's working on not being like he was before his son revealed himself to be part ghost, but still.

His brother was still human, just extra.

Why did Jack come to Gotham? He was kinda maybe forced out the house to go and find his brother because he liked talking about him but never actually went out to find him.

Jack and Croc may be half-brothers, yes, but he's still family.

Jack strongarms Killer Croc into not living in, well, the sewers and at his house he bought when he came to Gotham and they both caught up with each other's lives. Jack told Croc about his family, and by extension the shit views he's had on ghost because it was a major part in their family dynamics, and Croc told him about his own life in Gotham.

Minus the more gruesome, parts.

Killer Croc lives with him for a while and notices that he didn't really seem to care for his life. Which is a major no to Croc, who tries to get him to gain some amount of self-preservation, yes he knows that his little bro is more durable than the average human has any right to be but please for the sake of your big bro's heart, please take care of yourself.

Jack is a bit floored by this, and tries to wave it off as a non-issue. But if Jack can strongarm Croc into living with him, then Croc can definitely strongarm Jack into things as well.

Busting through walls is fine, alright. He gets it, it's very fun. But please don't stick random things into your mouth that can kill you, nor follow strangers down an alleyway and shrug off a stabbing (Killer Croc had some choice words and actions for the person who did such a thing.), and please, please practice stranger danger, little bro. Please.

No, he doesn't give two, three, four, five or ten fucking shits if you have microsurgeons in your blood that gives you a superhuman healing factor, you can still feel pain little bro, and stop skipping meals and sleep to work on your inventions! No, you cannot substitute either for energy drinks!

The batfam keep an eye on the two brothers and find it to just be the both of them strongarming the other into healthy behaviors basically. (With a lot of verbal and physical "I love you"'s, the Batfam could NEVER. slash joke teehee.)

[jaylaxies]

HARD THOUGHT !

pairing: sunghoon x fem!reader

cw: smut, unprotected sex, mentions of choking, usage of nicknames.

warning: 18+ content, minors dni

Rival skater!Sunghoon who always keeps you on your toes, never lets you sit down or relax by any means cause you can’t risk him being even one percent better than you, especiallyy with the annual competitions coming up. You hated the smirk he had on his face as he skated past you, doing his usual warm ups on the ice, and soon, it turned into the usual race between you both, and you were the winner this time, by less than a second.

“I see you’re ready to lose this time, Park,” you mocked, your smile vibrant as he scowled, stopping right in front of you, lips pink with cold, head held high despite his unofficial loss.

“Overconfidence is not hot, darling,” he points out. The arena was empty, minus you both—always doing the most to get even a sliver of extra practice in hopes of beating the other one.

“Don’t be a sore loser now,” you coo, and he scoffs, backing you up against the support railings, his cold finger tip on your chin making you look up at him in question, his mouth parted enough for you to get a glimpse of his sharp canines, the dim lights of the arena casting an attractive sort of shadow on his face, making you shut up automatically as you observed him.

“It’s cute that you think you’ll win tomorrow,” he started, “but that won’t happen with me being your rival,” he said, smirking and you rolled your eyes at his own display of overconfidence.

“What if I do win?” You asked, deadpanning, causing him to click his tongue, “then I won’t come close to you, ever,” he whispers, making you look up at him in surprise, “but if I win—I’ll have you as close to me as possible for the whole night,” he proposed.

“What the fuck, Park?”

“Scared you’ll lose?” He chuckles, pushing all your right buttons.

“Fine, we have a deal,” you said, looking at him one last time before skating away with your heart beating faster than ever.

There wasn’t much time to practice, granted the competition took place the very next day. You had won in your respective categories already, leaving the final round, which was the main event. All skaters were lined up for the last race, and the majority of the audience had come to watch the final rundown between you and Sunghoon, which made you want to do better.

“Good luck,” Sunghoon winked your way right before the race started.

You were determined, but Sunghoon’s determination skyrocketed, given that he had to win the bet—to have you in his arms, in his bed.

Which brings you here, right in his cozy bedroom with his gold medal resting on your chest, the cold metal juxtaposing the warmth of your skin, and his body on top of you. He kissed you all over, making you wear the medal he won—winning the bet and driving you back home with him without any delays after the award ceremony.

“You’re so pretty when you just shut up and take it like a good kitten,” he praises, snapping his hips to meet yours in a rushed thrust, making your eyes roll back with pleasure, he rolls his body fluidly as if already in sync with every movement of yours as his cock reached the deepest spots in you, making you feel good no matter how much you tried not to let it show on your face.

“Don’t stop,” you gasped out, only boosting his never ending ego with your whimpers of need, and he complied, “wasn’t planning on to,” he groaned, caressing your cheek gently before wrapping his slender fingers around your neck, fucking you hard as you arched your back and moaned for him, exactly how he wanted you to.

“So pretty,” he murmured, your cheeks heating up at his sudden compliment, paired with no other snarky remark when he pulled out, and then eased back in, his cock twitching just as your pussy clenched around him, signalling that you both were close, however, he wasn’t done with you, not yet.

Because tonight, he was the winner, and you, his reward.

© jaylaxies | tumblr

[dushysworld]

Darakarka(spouse indicator planet) in Vedic Astrology:

> Darakarka is basically the planet with the lowest degrees in your Vedic Astrological Chart (D1/birth chart).

> Darakarka = your life partner

> To find your Darakarka, all you need to do is check the planet which was at the lowest degrees at the time of your birth.

> Rahu and Ketu being shadow planets are not considered as Darakarka or any kind of other Jaimini karka.

Different planets as Darakarka:

1) Sun as Darakarka:

- Sun as your Darakarka planet means that your spouse is likely going to very reputed, authoritative, regal, leadership oriented, may have a big ego *in some cases*, confident and headstrong individual.

- Sun as Darakarka can also give you a spouse that is older than you. Mostly individuals which are hard to please or convince are seen as the partner of the person whose Sun is at the lowest degrees.

- Sun also gives a bit of extra/additional ego battles within the relationship so this thing is to be noticed and taken care of as it is the only big minus point for someone who has Sun as the Darakarka but apart from all this the spouse is going to be a creative, loyal and a great leader (in their field).

2) Moon as Darakarka:

- Moon as your Darakarka planet gives you a spouse who's going to be very emotional, intuitive, nurturing, caring, sensitive and childish spouse(not literally but will likely be the younger one in the relationship).

- Moon as Darakarka will give you a spouse who is younger than you. Someone with Moon as Darakarka gives you a spouse who is quite sensitive and emotional (might start crying when having an argument).

- Moon as DK will give you a spouse who is intuitively connected to you and you will be able to feel that emotional connection with your spouse mostly. Your spouse will make you content from all spheres emotionally.

3) Venus as Darakarka:

- Venus as your Darakarka planet will give you a spouse who is very fashionable, diplomatic, charismatic , foodie & a balanced spouse. The spouse would also have a lot of friends due to his/her outgoing nature.

- Venus as DK have higher chances of giving you a spouse which is younger than you(in most of the cases). Your spouse might at times hate arguments or fights with you since they like to maintain the peace & harmony within their relationship.

- Venus as DK will give you a spouse who will have a great sense of humor, will know and accept when it's their fault & will also treat you like their King/Queen. More focus here is on the materialistic and spiritual side as your spouse would love to be of service to you.

4) Mercury as Darakarka:

- Mercury as Darakarka planet will give you a spouse who is very talkative, intellectual, lover of gossips, analytical and sharp minded. You will also get a spouse who will love to have late night conversations with you.

- Mercury as DK will give you a younger spouse who will likely be very quick thinker and would talk quite fast *at times*. Your spouse would love to have debate with you at times which will mostly be intellectually stimulating conversations.

- Mercury as DK will also give you a spouse who is a very good communicator and knows how to switch between being an extrovert and an introvert according to the given situation. Also your spouse is likely to be quite hardworking as well and at times might take on too much work.

5) Mars as Darakarka:

- Mars as your Darakarka planet will give you a very physically active, fit, attractive, sensual, short tempered & devoted spouse. The only bad thing about this is that you're spouse can get argumentative or upset very easily due to their short temper.

- Mars as DK most of the times give a spouse that is very active physically. They don't like sitting still and do nothing, and are likely to indulge in different kinds of sports and activities due to their high energy/stamina. *Best Darakarka for someone who wants a spouse that is more sexually active than them*.

- Mars as DK will also give you a spouse who will be very honest, assertive, loyal, proactive & would also be quite touchy with you since their love language is mostly physical. They tend to speak less about love and show it through their actions most of the times.

6) Jupiter as Darakarka:

- Jupiter as your Darakarka planet will give you a spiritual, noble, wise, optimistic, funny, charitable and broad minded spouse. Your spouse would bring good fortune into your life as soon as you meet them or get married.

- Jupiter as DK also blesses you with a spouse who might be older or more mature than you but is likely going to be the "Life of the party" kind of person, who will bring many new changes into your life.

- Jupiter as DK will also give you a spouse who likes travelling, adventures, philosophy and religion etc. They will be quite spiritual and would also be interested in pursuing higher studies (post grad etc).

7) Saturn as Darakarka:

- Saturn as Darakarka planet will give you a serious, humble, soft hearted but rough exterior, hard-working, disciplined, ambitious and a humane spouse. They will have a unique yet one of the best "Resting B**ch Face".

- Saturn as DK will give you a spouse who's quite older than you or on top of that he/she could even be way too mature than you due to having experienced difficulties in childhood.

- Saturn as DK will also give you a spouse who is very intense, passionate, stoic and hard on themselves kind of a person. They will also be quite successful & have a big heart which means they will have Humanitarian qualities to them.

*Vedic Astrology should be used as a tool to understand more about your hidden self. It's not meant to know just about your future for fun without acknowledging the Present moment*

[httpsserene]

𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 - 𝐜𝐬. 𝟓𝟓 & 𝐥𝐧. 𝟒 | 𝐒𝐎𝐒 |

𝐬𝐢𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 - 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐫

summary: you can't complain about being paid to soak up the heat of the spanish sun and serve drinks— if you can ignore the flirting middle-aged men. however, this summer could be your last. you need to decide if you're returning next year by the end of the day. if only there was a sign to help you make up your mind.

content warning: fluff. light flirting. world-building and backstory. ignore my questionable spanish. no beta we die like summer silly season 2k24.

pairing: poly! carlos sainz jr x lando norris x phd-student fem!black!reader

from, serene: just a little teaser, a lil prologue, to establish the vibes and vague characteristics of the reader ! i’m using my light understanding of spanish (as an unfortunate no sabo kid) to get through this, so pls ignore thx.

⌕ join taglist | feedback & requests | upcoming chapters | table of contents | sip of sunshine | next ↻

The sweat beading along your hairline causes your edges to curl and lift. The cooling effects of the portable fan dangling around your neck are negated by the suffocating humidity of a mid-August summer day, yet it enhances the scent of sweat, sunscreen, and the hints of your faded perfume. Your appreciation for the dry-fit fabric of your uniform is refreshed; if it wasn’t moisture-wicking, your resignation email would’ve been submitted with haste.

But, the uniform does its best to protect you from the Spanish heat, and the pay (and tips) are satisfying. You make enough money to live frugally and cover any expenses that your financial aid and scholarships don’t during the school year. This meant you didn’t have to juggle being a full-time student and a full-time worker to survive. Working the beverage cart is perfect—you can’t be mad about serving drinks to men who have more money than they know what to do with, and even though you despise the fact that they freely flirt (terribly, at that) with a wedding band shining bright on their left ring finger—it pays your bills. As much as that disgusts you, this was always meant to be a temporary job, a stepping stone. You weren’t planning to continue working here after you got your undergraduate degree. And now, after graduating, a fancy company has hired you and is offering to pay for you to get a PhD. So, of course, you accepted their offer of free education and a job. This means there’s no reason for you to continue working as a cart girl at Golf La Moraleja in Madrid.

But, it’s Spain! Summer in Spain, at that, it’s a massive difference from a monotonous school year back in America. And, you don’t even have to pay for an apartment in Madrid (which is out of your tight budget, anyway) because your parents live here, and they’re always desperate to have you at home rather than out living on your own. The shining summer sun keeps your melanin strong, too. You’ve made friends out of colleagues, good friends. You’ve made good memories, a good resume, stupid choices, near-death experiences—you’ve made a time out of your early twenty-somethings. You don’t want to let it go.

Yet, it seems like it’s time. You don’t need the money, even though having extra income would be terrific in this economy. It would probably exhaust you during a break that’s supposed to be relaxing from your PhD studies. You’ve regained all fluency in the Spanish language that you lost growing up in the States. You’ve been a cart girl for four years, maybe it’s time to start a new chapter and leave this behind. The cart bounces over a bump in the pavement and breaks your train of thought. Your body tenses at the sound of the cans and bottles clinking together louder than you’d like. You do not want to stay late on your last day cleaning out melted sticky alcohol from the cooler. It’s ironic—you would think that with your four summers of experience, you wouldn’t let your mind wander while driving. The clock beeps its warning of fifteen minutes till the end of your shift, and you sigh. Directing the cart back towards the first hole of Course One, you’re aware that if there’s anybody present who wants a cold drink, they will be your last customer of this season or even your last customer for forever.

You lift your foot off the gas pedal as you see three figures become visible on the green, readying yourself for what could be your final service. You halt the cart, turning off the engine and smoothing out the skirt of your uniform as you stand and walk out a few steps.

“¿Qué puedo servirles de beber?”

You catch the attention of one of the men, an older gentleman who greets you kindly and informs you that he needs something strong if he’s going to be dealing with the other two for eighteen holes. You laugh politely, glancing at the men who have yet to notice your presence. The taller brunette is annoying the shorter, poking and prodding at his stance, seemingly teasing him about his form. Your smile brightens at the sight before you redirect your focus to your current client, and you begin to talk him through his options for the stronger alcohol you’re carrying today.

He easily downs a shot of whiskey and takes a bottle of beer with a lime off your hands before he turns to gather the others’ attention.

“¡Mijos!” The men at this point, have dissolved into boyish squabbling that carries over to where the two of you are standing by the cart. They silence easily at the older man’s call, heads snapping in your direction with widened eyes. Oh fuck, that is what your brain thinks at the view.

The taller, tanner one, is handsome. He’s built—broad shoulders, plush lips, a strong nose, wide brown eyes, and long eyelashes that he has no reason to have. The shorter, paler one, is beautiful. Pretty, even. He’s not quite grown into himself yet, you can tell. But, the youthful mischief lingering in his blue eyes is alluring, especially when paired with his cute sunburnt cheeks, and the big grin showing the cute gap in his teeth—did you say he’s cute already?

As they near the cart, you notice that Brown-eyes (you’ve decided on using descriptors because of the lack of names) shares the same eye shape as the older man you’ve served. He must be his son, or related to him at least. Blue-eyes must be a friend, or family, you suppose, if he acquired all the recessive traits during his genetic raffle. You exchange greetings with the two, dismissing the shakiness of the younger’s voice as shyness.

“¿Algo que quieran beber, señores?”

“Can you ask her if she has anything non-alcoholic?” The British-accented English spills from Blue-eyes’s mouth, and you understand that his greeting sounded nervous because of his lack of fluency.

“I do have a selection of non-alcoholic drinks—,” you start, smiling as all three men look surprised at your code-switching, “—That I can tell you about in English if you’d like?”

“Oh, I would like that very much, please,” the words tumble from Blue-eyes in one breath, the Spanish men laughing at his relief of being able to communicate in his native tongue.

“Not fluent in Spanish yet, huh?” You tease him lightly, with a soft smile to communicate your lightheartedness.

“I have terrible teachers,” Blue-eyes laughs pitchily, and both Spaniards gasp in faux-dismay of his words as he continues, “If you couldn’t tell.”

“I am not a terrible teacher,” Brown-eyes clarifies, accent curling around his words,  “You just do not listen to me when I try to teach you!”

“That’s not my fault! How am I supposed to stay focused when I’m talking to you?”

Brown-eyes seems surprised at that response, his eyes appearing to widen even more at the words. Blue-eyes realizes what he said during the pause of banter, his cheeks flushing even redder beneath his sun-baked skin.

“Well,” you clear your throat, eager to dismiss whatever that was about, “While I don’t know if he’s a bad teacher or not—I can assure you that I’m a great teacher when it comes to the non-alcoholic drinks I can serve you today!”

All three men seem to relax at your seamless dismissal, and you can feel Brown-eyes look at you thoughtfully as you ramble a relaxed script about what you're carrying to Blue-eyes. There’s a brief moment where Blue-eyes turns to his(?) father, for his opinion on what he should order, and you look away, making eye contact with Brown-eyes. His eyes are softer, and he nods at you, as if in thanks for your earlier redirection. You do the same, and shrug your shoulders lightly as if to say, “All good.”

Blue-eyes’ voice calls for your attention as he orders a refreshing virgin cocktail, and you turn to start mixing it for him.

“You know,” you think aloud, “If you ordered an alcoholic drink, I wouldn’t believe you’re old enough to be served?”

“Hey! I’m twenty-one, I can even drink in America now!”

You turn to look at him with narrowed eyes, tilting your head to the side dramatically before shaking your head as if you don’t believe him. Brown-eyes and his dad (you’re confident in their relationship), chuckle at this interaction, in a way that leads you to believe they’ve heard it before.

“Aww,” you coo, as you salt the rim of his plastic cup, “Twenty-one! You’re such a baby! I would think your I.D. is fake if I ever saw it.”

“I’m not a baby,” Blue-eyes pouts, his eyes brightening as he thinks of a response, “Wait—well, you look too young to be serving alcohol!”

“I’m taking that as a compliment, not an insult since I’m older than you. Beautiful brown skin like mine doesn’t show age, at least that’s what my mom says. Anyways—there’s nothing wrong with being baby-faced, it means you look young for longer.”

Blue-eyes ponders that train of thought as you add a slice of lime as garnish. You hand the drink off to him, waiting for him to take a sip to see if it’s to his liking. His eyes flutter shut as he swallows, with a tiny moan of approval following, and wow, that sounded like a different type of moan. It’s enough to cause your mind to drift to other scenarios where you may be blessed to hear that noise in, and you make the mistake of letting your gaze cross Brown-eyes again. 

There’s a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, and his eyebrow is raised at you slightly—like he’s aware of your train of thought. Hmm, you think, is that because he’s experienced the same train of thought as yourself, or is it because he’s gotten to hear that beautiful sound in the way you want to? It’s also possible that he thinks you’re just desperate, too. You blink at him, forcing your expression to remain innocent, before Blue-eyes speaks gleefully, breaking the tension once more. 

“This is the best drink I’ve ever had!”

You’ve heard those words hundreds of times on the course, but hearing them from him has you suddenly feeling bashful, waving his words away with a hand before you address Brown-eyes.

“¿Para beber, señor?”

“Please, cálmate. I thought you were talking to my father,” he responds, and the older gentlemen, confirming your suspicions about his relation, laughs.

“And—there’s no need to call me sir. Not in this context.”

Blue-eyes chokes on his drink next to you and it’s enough to distract you from responding to whatever that was supposed to imply. Okay, you panic internally, you’re either just a freak, or these two fine men are freaks themselves, and they’re not hiding it. Maybe, they even want you to join—okay, calm down you harlot. The men roughly pat his back to clear his airways and Blue-eyes reddens, you hope it’s due to embarrassment and not lack of oxygen. When it’s clear that he isn’t at risk for dying, Brown-eyes does take a bottle of beer off your hands.

“Have you been working here for a while?” The dad inquires, pulling you away from that mind-boggling exchange and into another bout of small talk while you dispose of the bottle caps.

“Sí, señor. This is my fourth summer here.”

“What?!” The two younger men, both exclaim, shocked at your answer.

“We’ve been coming here regularly since 2019 and we’ve never run into you before?” Blue-eyes continues, perplexed.

“Really? Wow, that’s terrible luck. I guess I’ve only worked shifts when you all aren’t here,” you theorize, cleaning out the shaker you used for his mocktail. 

“Why would it be ‘terrible luck?’” Brown-eyes asks with a painfully cute, confused tilt to his brows.

“It might be my last day,” you nod sadly, as all three men indulge you with sounds of dissent, “I know, sad, isn’t it?”

“But, why?” asks the dad, “Are they treating you badly here? Because I’ll talk to them for you. You seem like such a hardworking young woman.”

“Nonono, they treat me very well, there’s no need for threats! I’m just too hardworking. It’s just—I think it might be time for a change, you know?”

“We don’t know, actually,” Blue-eyes, offers smartly, “But, I wanna know. I like you, I think you’re interesting, and I’m invested now.”

You force the urge to giggle hysterically down as your brain screams, He said he likes you! That sounds like he’s in love with you! The cacophony of your subconscious gnawing at the bars of its enclosure rattles around your skull. 

You stare at them for a second, determining whether or not you should share your personal life with three strangers you're being paid to serve drinks to on a golf course. So, of course, you explain your very simple dilemma to the men. Do you quit your summer job because you’re afraid it might be too much to handle on top of getting your PhD and working an office job? Or, do you continue to work on the green because you’ve genuinely only ever enjoyed your time here, because it’s extra money in your pocket, because you’ve fallen in love with Spain, and because it keeps you near your family?

“I think you should stay.”

“Obviously, stay.”

“Sí, stay.”

You laugh abruptly at the answers. You’re ninety-five percent sure their answers are drenched with an ulterior motive—well, the two younger men's responses are.

“You like it here,” Blue-eyes starts earnestly, “I figure that getting a PhD is a lot of hard work, but why don’t you at least try it out for one more summer? If it’s too much, you don’t have to come back after that, right?”

The clock inside the cart blares its alarm for the end of your shift. You reach inside and shut it off before turning back to look at Blue-eyes thoughtfully, “I guess you’re right.”

“And…if you stay for another summer, there’s a chance we will see you again, no?” Brown-eyes jumps in.

“I would say the odds are pretty low, as this is the first time I’ve served you guys over four summers,” you joke back. That’s the reality of the situation, though. The first time you run into hot men who are your type and around your age range. You have to cope with the fact that you’ll never see them again. You’re the one with the terrible luck.

You tap the ledge of the cart off-handedly as you begin to ring up their drinks in the mobile register, pausing briefly to look up with a polite smile, “Is there anything else I can get for anybody before I head out today?”

Blue-eyes and Brown-eyes turn to whisper to each other, the older gentleman snorts, exchanging thanks with you and well wishes for your future before he walks back over to their equipment, leaving the younger men to close out the tab.

“Yes,” Blue-eyes clears his throat, “Can I have a ‘Sip of Sunshine?’”

You can’t recall ever carrying any beverage with that name and telling him as such, “Sorry, I don’t think we sell that. Is it a beer, or a cocktail—”

“You’re the sip of sunshine,” Brown-eyes interrupts you, twin smiles of pride painted on both men’s faces.

You laugh freely. It’s the most pleasant experience you’ve had being flirted with on the green. “I think that was the worst pick-up line I’ve ever heard!”

Brown-eyes rolls his eyes at your response lightly, giving you his credit card to pay, while Blue-eyes cheeses at you, “It made you laugh though. And, I think it made you blush too.”

“It did, but, the blush might be more of sunburn though,” you grin back at him, handing the mobile register to Brown-eyes for him to sign and tip, if he chooses. You avoid looking at the screen as he hands it back, placing it securely in the cart.

“Wait,” Brown-eyes calls, as you slide into the driver’s seat, “We never got your name?”

“You mean you never read the name tag that’s been clipped to my collar the entire time we’ve been talking?” You pester back, amused.

“We were too busy being distracted by how pretty you are,” Blue-eyes counters.

“Ah, that’s unfortunate,” you giggle, your flushed cheeks a definite result of the conversation and not the radiating sun, “I never got your names either?”

“Carlos,” Brown-eyes answers, “He’s Lando.”

“I can speak for myself you know,” Blue-eyes, Lando, sasses back. He pinches Carlos’ arm, causing the man to yelp and pull away from his side, and Lando takes the chance to address you again, “Will we see you next summer?”

“Oh, I hope not,” Carlos and Lando’s mouths drop open incredulously, “I don’t know how much more of your terrible flirting I can take!”

You smile at your own words, starting the cart and driving away from the green with a self-satisfied wave in their direction. You pray for your boss to still be in his office—you need to let him know that you’ve finally come to a decision about returning next year.

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© httpsserene 2024 - photo in header from pinterest (edited by me).

[hgfictionwriter]

Self Control: Part Four - Changes

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Changes start to occur, some small, some bigger. Jessie and you navigate the first few weeks of your pregnancy.

Warnings: Vomiting. Some suggestive language.

A/N: Just fluff this time around, folks. Doting Jessie makes her first appearance lol.

Jessie and you were seated at the table eating breakfast together. With a baby on the way and your health more important than ever, Jessie took it upon herself to take over meal planning and prep. With her exposure to nutritionists over the years, her knowledge along with her now extensive research into prenatal diets, she figured this was a role suited to her.

The food you two ate was already pretty healthy - it had to be. But now, she made sure you got extra iron, protein, calcium, etc., along with your prenatal vitamins which she arranged every morning at the edge of your plate. She felt great about it all.

Minus the coffee situation. She had dutifully removed all remnants of coffee from your apartment given even the beans in the pantry made your stomach turn. She nearly gave the bag away to Janine, but quickly thought better of it when she realized the questions it may spur.

The best you and Jessie could figure, you were about six weeks pregnant. You took the test a couple of weeks ago and though small changes had occurred, for the most part things had been smooth.

Until now.

Jessie stopped mid-bite when you lifted your fork halfway, paused, staring vacantly for a few moments before setting it down rather abruptly and placing your hands at the edge of the table.

"Um." Was all you managed to say before you bolted up out of your chair and rushed to the bathroom. Jessie's fork clattered to the table as she shot up out of her seat and followed you.

She was coming around the corner when she heard you retching.

"Oh, baby," she said gently as she came up behind you and pulled your hair back as you coughed out what little you'd eaten. Your shoulders heaved and she knelt down and rubbed your back.

When you finally sat back, you skin was clammy and pale and you were short of breath. Jessie kissed your temple before rising and grabbing you a damp face cloth.

"I knew it was too good to be true," you mumbled as you patted your face. You finally opened your eyes and gave Jessie a weary look.

"Guess it's started, huh?" Jessie asked with a sympathetic expression.

"I'm going to die if I'm one of those girls that has morning sickness all the way through their pregnancy," you lamented, a sad frown forming on your face.

"Well," Jessie started, looking for the right words to say, "let's hope that isn't the case. And worst case scenario, if it is, I promise I'll take care of you all the way through."

"You better. This is your fault after all," you commented with a smirk. "You're going to hear that from here on out."

Jessie might've felt affronted, but instead she mirrored your smirk and felt a blush started to spread across her cheeks. She knew you didn't mean it negatively. It was her baby that was growing inside of you, creating all of these changes. And that concept pleased Jessie in more ways than she cared to admit.

Before her mind could derail and turn to inappropriate things, the sudden shift in your expression caught her attention, refocusing her immediately as you lurched forward and began vomiting into the toilet once more. This time dry heaving and struggling even more.

"Baby, I'm so sorry," Jessie said as she rubbed your back again. When you eventually pulled back, your eyes were watery with tears.

"You better be staying home," Jessie urged. "And I'll skip practice, too."

You groaned as you leaned back against the wall. You gave a feeble shake of your head. "No. I have a stakeholders meeting this afternoon."

"Babe," Jessie scolded. You waved her off.

"I'll take the morning off," you compromised. "It's morning sickness, right?" You laughed emptily, you and Jessie both reading that it could occur any time of day.

"I'll stay home with you," Jessie repeated. You groaned again. She knew you didn't want her to miss practice, but from the expression on your face you were clearly torn. "No room for discussion. I'm staying home with you."

You whined a bit further, but relented. "Fine. But just today. We both have to just cope with this. I can't miss work all the time and neither can you."

"Let's play it by ear," she compromised. You rolled your eyes, but you leaned into her, Jessie wrapping her arms around you right away. You lay heavy against her, still breathing deeply and struggling to remain composed.

It was sometime later before you were finally confident enough to leave the bathroom. Jessie helped you up and walked you towards the bed.

"No, I want to go to the couch," you nearly whined. Jessie swallowed a laugh.

"Okay. Couch it is," she accepted.

She built you a nest of blankets and pillows, carefully arranging you into it and placing a garbage can within your reach. "What do you want to watch?" She asked as she stood poised with the remote. You heaved a sigh.

"I don't know. Anything," you said tiredly.

She put on one of your favourite movies. You'd watched it dozens of times before, but you never seemed to get bored of it. When you looked content and cozy, Jessie gave you a kiss before stepping away.

"You're coming back, right?" You asked. While your tone had been stubborn and defiant a short while ago, now it was sad and almost meek.

"Of course, babe," Jessie replied, not being able to fully hinder her laugh. She turned to you, a wave of affection and love going through her upon seeing your sad eyes peering over at her through the blankets. She spoke patiently. "I'm making you some tea. Then I'll stay with you." She gave you a sad smile when you gave a morose hum and turned your attention back to the TV.

When Jessie returned to the couch, she set down the steaming mug of tea on the table in front you.

"It's really hot. Give it a few minutes. This is peppermint, but I'm going to go out to the store later and get you some ginger tea and crackers. We'll find stuff that settles your stomach."

"Thank you," you said quietly, exhausted and almost half asleep.

Jessie studied you for a few moments, readjusting your blanket a bit before sitting down at the far end right next to your feet. She pulled out the notebook and pen she'd had tucked under her arm.

Since finding out you were expecting, Jessie started tracking all of your symptoms, their timing, severity, frequency, and had a section dedicated to questions to she wanted to ask the obstetrician at appointment in a couple of weeks. She started making notes about today, including which foods you had for breakfast. She'd work on deciphering if there was something specific in it that triggered your nausea.

Her pen stalled against the paper when she felt you nudge her with your foot through the blankets. She looked over at you in question to see your eyes were closed though you weren't asleep.

"What are you doing?" You asked in a small voice, almost pouty. Jessie dug a hand under the blankets to give your calf a light squeeze.

"Making sure I take care of you two the best I can."

------

Another couple of weeks went by and Jessie wished she could say that your morning sickness waned, but it actually worsened. She was concerned for you, of course, but based on everything she read - and a precautionary call to the doctor - it was to be expected.

All she could do was try to help you navigate and mitigate best as possible.

It was especially hard being away from you these past couple of weeks. You'd stayed home a couple of times, feigning food poisoning and a flu, but you'd insisted that Jessie go to practice and to games.

You flip flopped between pouty and needy to stubbornly independent and it was hard for her to determine which you really needed and wanted. You tended to fall more on the side of the latter, so Jessie ultimately went to Kansas for her game, but it was torture leaving you in your condition.

While away, she texted and called as often as she could, though even that proved to be a greater challenge than expected since she couldn't risk anyone overhearing her conversation. You hadn't even told your families yet. Though you were both excited to share the news, you agreed you'd wait until the first ultrasound to tell your families, then a while longer for others.

When she was home though, she was all yours.

Though things were far from pleasant for you, it seemed like you'd collectively found some coping mechanisms or small wins.

Through Jessie's keen note taking, you'd refined some strategies involving smaller meals, sometimes broken out into just snacks throughout the day. At this point, you were on a diet that was rather tailored and limited to stay inoffensive to your sensitive system. Concurrently, your cravings were reaching a peak of their own.

When you weren't sick to your stomach, you'd developed an affinity for grapes, the texture and sweetness satisfying some kind of itch for you. "The firm ones, not the gross mushy ones," you'd specifically instructed. By now, you'd even developed very particular timing around partially freezing them before eating.

Pickles weren't a thing for you - at least not yet. However, dill pickle chips were. Very much so. Jessie went on one late night adventure to the convenience store for you to get them before caving and stocking up despite the fact that she wished you'd eat something a bit healthier.

She'd made the mistake of trying to limit you and nearly had her head bit off. She kept her opinions on the chips to herself after that.

One evening you were napping, simply exhausted from being sick, balancing work, and still trying to contribute at home. Jessie finished up a few chores she'd convinced you in relinquishing to her - at least temporarily - before heading into the bedroom to check on you.

You must've been warm because you'd kicked off all the blankets and your shirt was hiked up. Jessie wordlessly approached and gingerly climbed onto the bed, laying flat on her tummy, perpendicular to you and stared at your exposed stomach. Eventually, you woke and peeked an eye open. As you registered her position, you gave her a curious look as she still silently surveyed your stomach.

"I think I can see the slightest curve here," Jessie said, eyes still trained on your stomach as she lifted a finger to point at your abdomen.

"Hey," you said mildly as you swatted her hand away. The action surprised her and she pulled back giving you a sullen expression.

"Sorry," you chuckled softly, before grabbing her hand back and laying it on your stomach where she pointed. "My mind defaulted to just regular weight gain and being offended, but then I remembered, "Oh wait, I'm growing your baby" so I should show sometime soon."

Jessie hummed quietly, her sullenness forgotten as she gently stroked your stomach, studying it further as though she might discover something new. Honestly, it was a bit early to show, she was probably imagining things, but she willed it anyway.

Without realizing it, she began to speak.

"Hi little one." She felt your eyes on her and could feel her cheeks warm. She'd talked about the baby plenty, but she'd never talked directly to them before. "How are you? I know you're going through so much and just trying to find your way, but it would be really nice if you stop making poor Momma so sick."

She stole a glance at you, her cheeks growing hotter at the way you watched her in adoration. She gave you a faint smirk.

"It's not that I don't love taking care of Momma, but, I know she'd like to have a regular meal again. And not be so tired." She grinned when she heard you snicker. She continued to caress your stomach. "She's working really hard to make sure you grow nice and strong and healthy. Please try to be nice to her - she's our favourite person, you know." She cocked her head. "You can give her all sorts of trouble when you're a teenager instead."

You laughed. "I think you're going to be way more uptight than me when it comes to stuff like that, so I think you're just jinxing yourself, babe."

"Maybe," Jessie offered noncommittally as she smiled softly, still enamored at the mere thought of the life that rest below her hand and inside of you. "I can't believe that we're making a little human being," Jessie said in quiet awe.

Your hand came to rest on her forearm, your thumb slowly stroking her. "I know. It's incredible to think about."

"I love you," Jessie told you. "And I love you, too," she directed to where your baby was forming. Unexpectedly, her throat tightened with emotion. "I can't wait to meet you."

"Jess," you said gently as you began to brush her hair back. "You're going to make me cry."

"I can't help it," she said, her voice still taut as she leaned up onto her forearms to lay a soft kiss at the center of your stomach.

You continued to stroke her hair, but grew silent as you now stared absently at the ceiling. Eventually you gripped Jessie's hand and squeezed it tightly.

"I love our family so much already." You took a steadying breath. "I really hope everything goes well at the appointment tomorrow. I don't know what I'll do if something's wrong."

Jessie shushed you gently as she shifted to lay next to you.

"There's no reason anything should be wrong. We've been doing everything we should." She kissed your cheek. "Just one more sleep and we'll know for sure. And whether everything's perfect or if there is something we need to address, we'll do it together."

You exhaled heavily through your nose before you turned your head to meet Jessie's gaze. Your eyes were watery, but you smiled at her.

"I love you so much."

A few minutes passed, Jessie's own eyes falling shut as she lay peacefully with you. She opened them upon hearing you give a small huff of a laugh and seeing you wear a faint smirk.

"And I'm sorry I haven't been in the mood lately," you said. Jessie frowned deeply.

"Do not apologize. Like I said, you literally have a tiny human growing inside of you and you've been so exhausted and sick lately. I just want you to feel better. I'm not thinking about anything else," Jessie told you adamantly.

Your smirk grew. "Yeah? What I saw of your shower this morning tells me otherwise."

Jessie's face immediately began to burn hot as the memory of her activities this morning played vividly in her mind. You snuck a quick kiss, somewhere between teasing and placating.

"I can't wait until I feel better so I can take care of you again," you said. Jessie began to stammer a rebuttal when you interjected. "In the meantime, you really don't have to hide it. I may be puking my guts out, but I still think you're gorgeous." You shrugged lightly. "I'll just have to imagine it's my hand around you. Or you know, another part of me."

Jessie's eyes rolled into the back of her head and she shifted onto her back releasing a groan of both exasperation and appreciation. She covered her eyes with a hand, feeling the heat radiating off of her face. She shook her head with a laugh.

"Jesus Christ."

[fandomfuntimem]

Dp x Dc or just Dp things I (personally) want to see more of.

Just some stuff I've seen and really liked but never see enough of.

Danny is very casually a genius and/or skilled (engineering, gymnastics, really any skill you pick):

There isn't enough of it tbh. I dont think people realise just how smart and skilled he is. Being a ghost probably made him very flexible and gave him extra abilities the average human may not have. Also he comes from a family of scientists, yeah maybe up against them he doesn't seem smart, but being "smart" comes in different forms. More often than not the ability to be smart comes from your ability to pick up on things, retain information, understand information, and use that information accordingly. Danny does that, especially with his villains. He even finds outside the box ways to defeat his villains. Like tricking Freakshow into becoming a ghost.

I just think its under utilized. A lot of Teen heros are geniuses but no one ecknowledges it. Hell, you can make it that Danny doesn't even realise just how smart he is. He doubts it and often thinks he's one of the dumber people in the room. But when sleep deprived and running on a cup of coffee he can solve a problem he hasn't even seen before the konk out for an hour.

Danny has BEEF with the JL or isn't outright a fan:

In a lot of fics the JL (especially Batman) are huge hypocrites. Like they'll barge into Amity trying to solve problems that don't even effect them, screw things up more, then offer Danny more training. Hello????? You guys being there caused the problem???? Then, in other things Batman preaches about territory and Danny will get threatened or treated with suspicion for even stepping foot NEAR Gothem, but then barges into his territory like its his buisness.

Let Danny call them out. Let him point out that everything has been fine untill they showed up. Let him get MAD. This is HIS territory, HIS haunt, HIS people. These guys have done nothing for him! Why should he accept their help when their help only makes things worse? In fics where they help him because he needed it and ended up in Gotham let him be suspicious and careful. He doesn't need to be vivasected or hurt to be warry of the crime fighting furries he just met.

Mans has the experience to know you can't trust anyone untill they prove you can.

Danny should be casually overpowered and spooky:

This isn't even he has to be experienced. He is so used to his powers he doesn't realise how scary it is. He will casually stop a punch from superman, laugh, quipe, then punch back.

He accidentally breaks stuff, walks through things, glows, its so normal for him. He apologizes and does it again because he forgot. He genuinly has no idea how strong he is, he just knows he needs to be soft on humans.

Danny and Phantom are very different personalities:

I'm not saying they're two different people. They have the same mind same person. But the way they act is so different. Danny is grumpy, quiet, whimpy. Danny is a loser, and everyone knows it. Phantom, on the other hand, is confident, he jokes, smiles, makes a game out of his struggles, he's strong. Phantom is just a good guy. Everyone (minus others) loves him!

This happens because Danny is more comfortable as Phantom or Vise Versa. Sertant trates carry over, they're nerds, they're smart, they enjoy a good pun, they're sassy. But because Danny is a loser everyone sees it as lame, but with Phantom its endearing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

None of this means you need to get rid of silly nerdy Danny. You can have that but all these other things ad depth to his character. Hes smart but not confident, he's kind but not naive, he's powerful but not violent, and he finds comfort in the fact no one knows him.

Idk. I'm not a big fanfic writer so i thought i would just share and see what others do with it.

[samuelsdean]

Take A Bite

pairing: dean winchester x reader

summary: the hunt loomed, a constant shadow. but for now, in the warmth of the diner, you had this – a shared meal, a stolen bite, a silent promise spoken in the language only the two of you understood. maybe that was enough, for now.

genre: fluff

word count: 0.6k

author's notes: my first ever dean winchester fic! and of course, it's fluff. this one's extra fluffy and tooth-rotting because he deserves all the love and pie in the world. have fun reading this one!

GREASY SPOON DINERS WERE PRACTICALLY A SECOND HOME TO YOU AND DEAN. After weeks on the road, chasing whatever monster plagued this random unsuspecting town, a decent burger and stale black coffee felt like a five-star feast. You slid into the red vinyl booth across from Dean, the air thick with the aroma of frying onions and something vaguely resembling a pie. Dean's favorite

"Double cheeseburger, fries extra crispy, milkshake," Dean said to the waitress, a practiced routine etched into the lines on his face. "And your apple pie, make that two slices."

You chuckled at Dean's predictability. One thing about the hunter is that he'll never miss out on ordering pie if it is ever on the menu. You mirrored his order, minus the pie and milkshake, opting for a Coke instead, as a comfortable silence settled between you.

"You know, Dean, it'll never hurt you to cut back on the sugar and fat," you poked at the man's elbow. "You're what? 30 years old? You could die from all the cholesterol you ingest."

Dean shoved another greasy fry into his mouth, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Woman," he mumbled around the food, "first of all, I'm twenty-five, almost twenty-six now. Second, cholesterol never killed any Winchester. Besides, haven't you seen Buffy the Vampire Slayer? The girl practically lives on coffee and Pop-Tarts, and she still kicks major demon butt. The point is, you gotta live a little. Besides, pie's calling my name." He jerked his head and smirked towards the display case where a monstrous slice of apple pie sat, practically begging to be devoured.

It wasn't always like this, these quiet moments punctuated by the clinking of silverware. There were times, hunts gone sideways, when the air crackled with tension, unspoken words hanging heavy. But there was also a language you'd developed, a shorthand built on shared experiences and unspoken affection.

The waitress slid your plates across the chipped Formica counter. As you reached for your burger, Dean's hand shot out, snagging a fry. He popped it into his mouth with a wink.

"Always gotta have the first bite," he said around a mouthful of crispy oily goodness—as how Dean would describe the meal.

You rolled your eyes, a familiar warmth blooming in your chest. It was a small thing, this ritual of offering the first or last bite. It started years ago, on a particularly brutal hunt that left you both famished and frayed. Dean had insisted you take the last sliver of pie, a silent promise that he'd take care of you, even in the smallest ways.

You speared a fry and held it out to him. "Only because you saved me from the mystery meat surprise last week."

He chuckled, taking the fry and returning the favor by breaking off a piece of his pie before taking a bite. The practice continued throughout the meal, a silent banter intertwined with the rhythm of chewing and swallowing. It's like second nature between you two.

"So," Dean said, finally wiping his grease-stained fingers on a napkin, "what kind of son of a bitch are we whacking this time?"

You launched into the details the local college professor had shared, a tremor of interest lacing your voice. As you spoke, Dean listened intently, smiling now and then with how nerdy you sounded. He liked it when you go off on your tangents about whatever monster it was you were about to hunt. While doing so, Dean occasionally reached across the table to steal a fry or offer a piece of his pie. It wasn't a grand gesture, this sharing of food, but in the quiet hum of the diner, it felt like everything.

The hunt loomed, a constant shadow. But for now, in the warmth of the diner, you had this – a shared meal, a stolen bite, a silent promise spoken in the language only the two of you understood. Maybe that was enough, for now.

[miriamladyvoid]

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My ask: Hello I liked your Grim headcanons so I would like to request platonic solace headcanons with the freshman gang + Grim. In the hypothetical scenario where Yuu/MC will never be able to return home and therefore Yuu will look depressed and tired after hearing the news ( i miss my boys)

Homesick

ft: Ace, Deuce, Epel, Jack, Sebek

Ace Trappola

⤷Ace finds out about the situation from the other first years, who’d already tried (and somewhat succeeded) in lightening the mood.

⤷So he didn’t have the pleasure of meeting you while it was the worst- however, when Ace went to offer his condolences the air was thick enough to cut with a knife.

⤷Now Ace didn’t WANT to attempt to cheer you up when the news was just broken, he’s decently self aware and knows his comfort and help comes off as brash or rude sometimes.

⤷However, it’s not like he’s heartless (if almost the exact opposite- he cares very deeply for someone once they become friends, and it’s a loyalty not easily broken).

⤷So, despite the tension and your obvious emotionally fragile demeanor, Ace took a leap of faith and sat down next to you.

⤷He starts off just saying random things, talking for the sake of ridding the silence, however it eventually drifts to family.

⤷He apologizes, like it was somehow his fault there was no way to return back to your world, and offers you to stay over at his place during the breaks.

⤷Then he starts joking about how you’ll fit in, and how his dad will love you (all the while making teasing remarks towards his brother).

⤷And at the very end, when both your butts are numb from sitting on the cold hard hallway floor, Ace pats you on the back and congratulates you on making it so far.

Deuce Spade

⤷The first one to find you, wholly unprepared and slightly panicking at the pure exhaustion apparent in your features.

⤷Deuce (after a moments pause) jumps into action by crowding around you and looking for any sign of what possibly could have happened- there’s no extra textbooks or assignments in your bag, nobody in the vicinity that could’ve harassed you, and you seem to be all in one piece.

⤷Stops and stares at you before asking just what happened, and panics even more when your expression turns even more heartbroken at his words.

⤷Tells you to wait for a moment, and runs off to a vending machine to grab a warm drink and some tissues in case you cry.

⤷When he returns, Deuce once again presses the topic of what happened, and once you finish the story, Deuce’s heart is broken.

⤷He loves his mom and grandma so much, and can’t imagine knowing there’d be no way to ever see them again- it isn’t pity on his part, more of an extreme empathy.

⤷Tries his best to hug you while there’s still a hot drink in your hands, but as awkward as the embrace is, it’s honest and Deuce tries to convey everything he doesn’t have the words for through it.

⤷When the two of you have to go back to classes, he makes sure to tell some of the others to be more gentle than usual- but doesn’t budge on the reason or story.

⤷It’s your feelings and your tale to tell, all in due time and at your own pace the others can find out.

Epel Felmier

⤷Sees you during lunch, after the text that had been sent out. Epel was almost overly cautious and walked on eggshells about every topic before Deuce caught his eye and started shaking his head.

⤷Relaxed a bit and didn’t pry on the subject- he figured you’d approach it on your own if you wanted his condolences or advice (though Epel knows he’s a bit ill suited for legitimate life instruction).

⤷He offers some food from his lunchbox (Pomefiore is on a group diet again, but Vil at least uses incredibly high quality ingredients), and carves an apple into the shape of something you like- be it an animal or object.

⤷Once everyone joins the table (minus Ace who had basketball), and you’re a bit more distracted, Epel starts to pick up on smaller things that Deuce was doing- steering the conversation one way or the other, avoiding talking about the upcoming break where everyone would get to see their family… oh yeah wasn’t Crowley trying to find a way back- oh.

⤷Pauses in the middle of chewing, and stares at you for a few seconds before the full situation sinks in.

⤷Epel is extremely close with his family (or community in general), so similar to Deuce he’s shocked by his own revelation- and immediately starts looking up possible things he can do to make you feel better.

⤷All of Epels sentiments are incredibly corny- flowers and warm tea, or choosing films with similar scenery to your hometown in hopes to bring some feeling of comfort.

⤷Tries his hardest to support you without you needing to tell him.

Jack Howl

⤷Notices the smaller things, and pieces together what happened like Epel, however Jack believes that talking through your problems can help process them (so long as it’s not him doing the talking).

⤷Lots of questions, though not all at once. What happened? How do you feel- specifically. Does your body feel hollow, or heavy… or a bit of an odd mix between the two?

⤷Asks you how you want to move forward with things- do you want to keep looking for ways back? Or would you prefer to “accept your fate” and start making more permanent roots in Twisted Wonderland (social security, school aptitude tests, bank accounts… etc).

⤷He’s very much a rock to lean on- seemingly forever calm (if a bit miffed due to the wet spots due to tears now in his leather Savanaclaw jacket).

⤷Does small things that you have to look twice at to notice the real value of, on a particularly rough day he prepares some food that tastes similar to a favorite dish (even if the ingredients are different), or takes you to dumb tourist traps on the island so it feels more like a fun trip than a prison, makes a playlist with songs similar to those that he had you sing from your world.

⤷He offers to take you on break with him, explaining that his large family will leave no room to be bored- which therefore means really no time to be homesick or sad.

⤷On reflex gets you a nightlight because it’s one of his little sisters comfort items, and decides to get a matching one. That way you know you’re not alone in this world, even during the sad hours of nighttime.

Sebek Zigvolt

⤷Loudly, and very ungracefully asks why you’re acting so solemn when today marks the anniversary to the Great Lord Malleus’ club founding- as brash and socially dense as he may be, three people giving various negative hand gestures towards him after that statement would make anyone stop what they’re doing- and he did stop, mouth agape in pure bewilderment.

⤷Quiets down and watches as three of the other first years glance over your direction, as your face seems to get even more drained and exhausted by the sheer amount of energy surrounding you.

⤷Starts awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to the other- he’s well aware of the effect his comment made and is slightly embarrassed that his first response to seeing a friend stressed out and tired was to… “invalidate their personal feelings in exchange for validating his own beliefs” as Master Lilia had said.

⤷Epel eventually gets sick of his demeanor and pulls him aside to explain the situation, and ask him to please help because they can’t make such a massive problem go away on their own.

⤷Sebek puffs out his chest at this new responsibility and decides the best course of action would be to explain why the Valley of Thorns is so wonderful.

⤷Slowly begins asking questions about your own home. The Valley has the highest concentration of Fae in the entire world- what are fae like where you’re from? What’s the food like? What spices, animal products, materials are different from what you’ve seen here.

⤷Accidentally makes mental notes of the descriptions you provide of the objects- and finds himself looking for the closest thing to it Twisted Wonderland has to offer.

The original publication and writing belongs to @spindle-spun-writings (Post recovered) 01/01/23

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Banners created by miriamladyvoid© Feel free to use; please, reblog, and credit banners.

Language of the flowers of each Banner:

First Banner: Faded Dianthus: I depart from you. Second Banner: Elder Blossom: Compassion. Third Banner: Harebell: Regret.

[bimbo-baggins17]

Just A Fantasy?: Sam Monroe

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CW: 18+ MDNI!!, porn with no plot, smut, masturbation, use of pet names, oral (m receiving), slight dacryphilia, degradation, throat fucking <3<3<3

A/N: For the lovely anon who said I should write more Sam Monroe smut…hope you enjoy <3 //not proofread\\

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Sam’s eyes are screwed shut, his plump bottom lip pulled between his teeth, the labret piercing clicking against them as he fists his dick with feverish desperation. It gets more difficult for him to contain the whimpers and groans threatening to spill out, causing him to bite down harder on his lip.

“Fuck..fuck..c’mon please..please..” He whimpers pleadingly to the mental image of you, his best friend, that he’s conjured up. The porn pulled up in his browser isn’t spurring him on like it usually does.

“Sam? Sam!”

“Yeah baby…y-yeah..just like that..” He grunts, tugging his cock faster, chasing his climax. He’s right there..right there..

“Oh my god! Sam!”

His eyes shoot open in surprise as you walk through his bedroom door, but it’s that extra little jolt he seemingly needed, hot cum spurting out with a loud groan. It dribbles all down his hand, some of it getting on his shirt since his trajectory changed with the surprise. Apparently the calls of his name weren’t just all a fantasy.

Sam’s face instantly goes beet red with embarrassment as he sees you standing there staring at him wide eyed. It’s silent. Minus the over acting moans still coming from his laptop speakers. Quickly he pauses it and slams it shut before reaching for a tissue to clean himself off and tuck himself away. “Sorry,” He mumbles, “you weren’t supposed to see that.” He’d rather you scold him than stay silent. He risks taking a peek at you. Your expression is unreadable to him.

A few more moments of silence pass before he can’t take it. “Say something at least. Please.”

“What were you thinking about?” You ask.

His eyes snap up to your’s immediately. Thats definitely nowhere close to what he expected to hear from you. He had numerous ideas and that didn’t even come close. He knows he’s taking a risk if he answers honestly but you just walked in on him humping his hand like a bitch in heat so all shame is out the window for now. And the fact you haven’t left running for the hills is a good sign.

“You.” His voice nearly cracks with the admission.

The grin that makes its way onto your lips is enough to make his dick twitch again.

“Really?” You ask softly, stepping closer towards him.

He swallows thickly, his eyes trailing over you for a moment before landing back on your face. He nods his head. “Really.”

He has to be hallucinating or maybe he passed out from embarrassment and this is all just a dream because he watches you close the distance between you both and drop to your knees in front of him.

“You could have just asked for my help..” You murmur, eyes admiring the outline in his pants. You look back up to his, “Think you can cum one more time?”

His heart nearly stops. Did he hear you correctly? He doesn’t trust his voice right now so he just nods, his breaths coming out shaky. “Mhm..”

There’s that grin again. He feels like he could explode just watching you pull his dick back out of his pants. He watches how you gaze at it like you’re in awe or something. He whimpers pathetically, wanting to feel your touch finally, now that you’re so close. He strokes your jaw with his thumb gently, “Please baby,” He croaks out, not able to wait any longer now that what he’s wanted for so long is being dangled in front of him.

He watches as you spit into your dominate hand before you delicately wrap it around his thick shaft. His eyelids flutter at the feel. Your pumps start slow and almost torturous drawing it out while pulling more mewls from him. When your hand starts to move faster, his head falls back to rest on his desk chair earning a satisfied groan.

Sam jolts when he feels you run your tongue along the underside of his length over the prominent vein, all the way to the tip, swirling the muscle around it. “Fuck baby,” He breathes sharply through his teeth.

You smile up at him, your tongue still teasing his cock. The sight of you on your knees in front of him is something he’s dreamed about countless times. He makes sure to burn the image into his memory just in case he never gets this again.

He lets out a choked moan as you wrap your lips around his tip, teasing the slit. “..need more..please..” He begs.

You oblige and start to slowly envelope him into your warm mouth. He lets his head rest against the back of the chair once again, letting out a hiss of air.

The pleasure is ripped away just as quickly as he got it though. He shoots forward frustrated, whining. “You’re such a fucking tease.” He growls out.

Before you have time to react he threads his ringed fingers through your hair and forces your mouth down around him, bucking his hips forward at the same time to make you gag around him. “..fuck..” He grunts, your nose is buried in his pubic hair.

His large hands keep your head in place as he continues to snap his hips up into your mouth, bullying your throat. Your drool dribbles out and down his shaft catching in the curly hair at the base. The sound of you gagging on his cock only encourages him further, along with the tears he can see catching in your eyelashes.

“Shouldn’t be such a tease baby,” He grunts, his hips not stopping their assault, “..fuck..I know you can take it though..”

Your hands find their way to his thighs, bracing yourself, nails digging into the flesh. The tears slip down your cheeks, ruining your makeup.

“‘M right there…’nd you’re gonna take it all..” His movements grow sloppier as he reaches climax. “Fuck baby,” He moans right before pulling your head down so his cock is buried in the back of throat, draining his cum right down it. The way it flexes as you gag milks every last drop from him.

“Shit..” he breathes out, pulling you off his overly sensitive length, whimpering. He admires the mess he made of your makeup while caressing your face sweetly with a shaky hand, a stark contrast to his actions seconds ago.

“Was that okay?” You ask, looking almost angelic to him even with the clear evidence of what you just did on your face.

He can’t help but chuckle at your question and he nods his head. “You really have to ask that?” He holds up one of his hands, showing how it’s trembling.

You beam proudly up at him. Sam strokes your bottom lip affectionately with his thumb before leaning forward and capturing them in a kiss, tasting himself on you. It’s safe to say you two are no longer just friends.

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