#or putting trash cans in every room for easier cleaning

[clockwayswrites]

Mx. Minx: ch2 p3

You all voted yesterday, so Minx is back! masterpost this is a first draft, please no editing or concrit <3

Danny pushed the shirt up and off in one motion. There was the sharp hiss of a breath. Jason closed his eyes.

“Oh Boss, they really did a number, didn’t they?” Danny crooned.

“Sometimes it’s easier to take a hit than dodge,” Jason replied.

“I know.”

Jason hated that Danny knew.

“I’ve got some amazing bruise cream though,” Danny continued. “And luckily none of these have split so we can just do that. Sorry that it’s going to be a bit cold, but I’ll warm it up if I can.”

Jason hummed to show that he heard, but he didn’t talk. He was too afraid that if he talked, he would break the spell in place that was keeping Danny from mentioning all the other scars that lined Jason’s body. He heard a jar open, Danny moving, and then cool cream and hands pressed against his sides. A shudder of a shiver ran through him and then relief. Jason sighed and let his head drop back against the couch.

“Told you it was good,” Danny said smugly. “I took a recipe that another working girl had and tweaked it this through a lot of trial and error. Next time I make some, I’ll make you up a pot too.”

“I won’t turn that down.” Jason wondered if he could even get the recipe. It beat the stuff in the Batcave, which was really saying something, and easily beat the stuff Jason used when he hadn’t raided a Bat safe house recently.

“That’s because you’re not an idiot,” Danny said. “At least not most of the time.”

Jason gave an incredulous little snort. He got no respect in his own damn area.

Just about every other inch of his torso had been dealt with when Danny’s hands finally touched the autopsy scar. Jason flinched. He couldn’t help it.

No one touched it.

“Does this still hurt?” Danny asked, which was an easier question than any of the ones that Jason had been fearing.

“Only in my head,” Jason answered too honestly.

“Okay.” Danny leaned back and started to clean up. “I don’t have anything that will fit you, so you’ll have to go shirtless or put your old one on. If you leave it off, I can toss it in the wash.”

Jason finally opened his eyes and blinked up at the hideous popcorn ceiling and the pink neon like that raked across it. “Wash it, I guess, if you have a dryer too.”

“Yep. First big splurge was to get the units put in,” Danny said. “They’re stuffed in the kitchen, but at least I have them, you know?”

Jason did. “Thanks.”

“Sure. Open up the blue thing, it’s a pill container. Everything’s labeled so take some pain meds, okay?” Danny ordered.

The trash and Jason’s shirt went to the kitchen while Jason did as he was told and tossed back some Advil along more of the drink. Again, Jason was left feeling weird about nudity. He didn’t mind at all being shirtless, other than his scar being out, but there was something oddly intimate about it there in Danny’s apartment.

“Will you be ready to eat or do you need to sit a bit?” Danny asked, interrupting Jason’s thoughts.

Jason shook his head. “No, food would be good. Can I help get it ready?”

Danny tilted his head before shrugging. “Sure. Cabinet to the left of the sink there’s the bowls and stuff. Silverware is in the drawer. You can missing the serving spoons on the counter.”

“Got it,” Jason said and headed through the opening to the kitchen.

It was a tiny room. Two walls were taken up by the cabinets and appliances. Danny’s table, which had only two chairs, was pushed into the corner against the same wall as the door. The only window was over the sink. Despite that, the room felt almost blindingly bright with the pastel pink cabinets, blond butcher block counters, and minty walls.

Or maybe it was the discoball that hung over table that made things blinding.

(Jason tried not to be too distracted by it, he had a job to do.)

Everything was right were Danny had said it would be and he indeed could not miss the old ceramic pot crammed full of spatulas, serving spoons, and the like, so Jason got everything out before he opened the rice cooker to check if it was done. It seemed good enough, so he made a bed of it in the bottom of the bowls. The lid to the crockpot came off next and the small space filled with the smell of spices, meat, stewed vegetables.

“Not bad for barely any work, is it?” Danny asked as he appeared in the kitchen.

“Pretty damn amazing,” Jason corrected as he spooned the goulash like mix over the rice.

“I have water, tea, or some craft beers,” Danny said, arm resting on the fridge door as he frowned into it.

“Water’s fine.”

“Ice?”

“Nah.”

It took a bit of shuffling around each other to get everything and themselves to the table, but nothing spilled so Jason figured it worked. And the food was damn good.

“Thanks,” Jason said, head bent over his bowl. Thanks for the help. The food. The meds. Thanks for caring.

“Anytime, Hood, anytime.”

[heatherwitch]

Bedridden witch: Seasons edition

I made a series for The Wheel of the Year many years ago but I realize that not everyone follows it and dividing suggestions into the four seasons as well might be more helpful for some!

Spring 🌿

Collect the first rain of the season and keep it in a jar

Drink floral or fruit teas

Burn floral or fruit scented candles

Light a candle or turn on an electric candle.

Open the curtains to let light in. 

Visualize a light cleaning each and every room in your home.

Decorate with dried, fresh or fake flowers.

Spray a cleansing spray throughout your bedroom.

Clean an area in your home, big or small. (It could be as simple as making a pile of trash so it’s easier to move later.)

Bathe yourself (either in the tub or sponge bath style). Infuse some herbs/flowers into the water!

Water your plants and whisper blessings to them.

Plant something new! It can be as simple as a beansprout in a paper cup.

Meditate and imagine yourself out in your favorite area in spring.

Make a terrarium.

Spray floral water in the air and on your bedsheets.

Watch for and welcome the returning birds

Learn about local plants.

Crack open all your windows to let in some fresh air.

Bedridden witch: Garden edition

Summer ☀️

Make sun water/tea

Drink fruit teas, infused water or juices

Burn floral or fruit candles

Decorate with flowers and crystals.

Wake up earlier than usual to enjoy a full day of light.

Try to be awake and witness both the sunrise and sunset.

Decorate your windows with rainbow prisms.

Make flower crowns with fresh, dried or paper flowers.

Make sure sunlight and fresh air can reach you.

Enjoy some fresh fruits, veggies, nuts and seeds.

Decorate with/wear/create things with bright colors:

Decorate a new pot for your plants (painting, sharpies, ribbons, etc.)

If you can, put a bird feeder outside your window or just watch them as they fly by.

Pour an offering of water for the plants (indoors, outside or out the window).

Have a picnic (outside, on the kitchen floor or in bed).

Find a way to incorporate honey into your day (scrubs, food, tea, etc.)

Burn beeswax candles.

Listen to music that just sounds like summertime.

Autumn 🍂

Collect the first rain of the season and keep it in a jar

Drink spiced tea, apple ciders

Infuse berries into water.

Burn spiced, woodsy or autumn scented candles

Eat things like breads, nuts, grapes, pomegranates, pies, apples and root vegetables.

Start a new project like crocheting or knitting. This is also a great time to finish that project you’ve been avoiding.

Wear and decorate and create with browns, golds, dark greens, oranges and yellows.

Decorate your home to make it look more like Autumn (fake or real leaves, acorns, paper cutouts, etc.)

Create a picnic/feast wherever is reasonable, with a little bit of everything.

Pull up a video of leaves falling or a fire crackling.

Pumpkin pie, pumpkin spiced-things, pumpkin seeds.

Decorate with small pumpkins, paint them or draw on them if carving is too high-energy.

Create an altar honoring loved ones who have passed on, either a material one or a photo album online.

Pull up a video of a burning fire or light candles.

Turn off all of the lights and sit/lay in darkness.

Visualize your wards and boost your home protection.

Do spirit work/leave offerings for the spirits.

Burn incense/make a spray that smells of spices (cloves, basil, etc.)

Watch spooky/witchy movies.

Winter ❄️

Collect the first snow/make snow water and keep it in a jar

Drink seasonal teas, ciders and hot cocoa

Burn spruce, pine or winter scented candles

Watch gifs/videos of snow, ice forming, fire crackling, etc.

Get/make a small wreath and keep it indoors!

Keep clear quartz and snowflake obsidian around.

Make paper snowflakes! Or find an app/website where you can do a digital one.

Use your heat to draw sigils on frosted windows.

Put a bird feeder outside your window so you get winter visitors!

Get empty glass ornaments and fill them with herbs/pine needles/things that remind you of winter and hang them around.

Get some cute little snow globes. 

Decorate with winter colors! White, blue, silver, grey, dark green, etc.

Create an apple pomander with cloves or dried orange slices.

Decorate with evergreen boughs, holly, pine cones, etc.

Wash your face with snow/cold water.

Make rosehip, peppermint, vanilla, rooibos or spiced tea.

Step outside/open a window to feel the cold air (if you live somewhere warm, do this in the early morning/night).

Handcraft gifts for loved ones or write heartfelt cards/letters to the people you care about.

Put birdseed outside/a bird feeder by your window.

Make a simmer pot, or use this idea to create a scented spray.

Bedridden witch: Winter edition (more ideas in this post!)

You may also like:

Bedridden witch series

Bedridden witch: Wheel of the year edition

Bedridden witch: Elements edition

Bedridden witch: Weather edition

Bedridden witch: Nature edition

Witchcraft for the chronically fatigued

Spoonie witch masterpost

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

who will i say goodnight to when you're gone?

pairing: javi x reader

cws/tags: angst, smut, fwbs, p in v, oral

summary: you are javi are just coworkers who sleep together, nothing more

a/n: title is from cornflower blue by flower face

wc: 3.6k

thank you to @almostempty for beta reading!

taglist | ko-fi | masterlist

It’s easier this way.

That’s what you tell yourself.

Your job is your life, whether or not you want it to be, and it would be unfair to subject a partner to that. It’s not just long hours at the office, it’s the constant threat of death, worse, the way it percolates your mind even when you’re sleeping —something you struggle to do these days.

At face value, it might seem like you should date a coworker, someone who gets you, who already stands beside you every day. But who would be there to comfort you when panic comes over you in the middle of the night? Putting two agents in the same room just makes you both a more convenient target. Imagine, they could kill two lovebirds with only one raid.

Some might say you’re like rabbits in the bedroom, but you’re not enjoying the spring weather, sitting in a bed of flowers. Rain is beating down on the windows, adding to the summer humidity, and you only end up on Javier’s uncomfortable mattress about half the time.

Sometimes, it’s the living room couch after a glass of whiskey or three. Other times, you choose convenience and share the cramped shower, maybe on the sink afterwards if there aren’t any clean towels and you have to air dry. Sometimes, when Javier throws the condom in the trash, he sees the cotton balls covered with hydrogen peroxide and blood.

He says more when he’s inside you than he does when he patches you up. You patch him up too, and you can tell he tries not to wince every time even though your hands are gentle. He will clean the wounds you received from others, only to bruise you. Usually, it’s on your hips or your thighs, anywhere below the neckline.

It’s the kindest thing he can do for you.

He doesn’t make you beg because he knows you would. He doesn’t beg because he knows he doesn’t have to. You knock on his door and he knows what you want.

You did this sort of thing often. Sex, they call it. Friends with benefits, casually hooking up after a bad day at work or a drunken night out, better yet, a drunk night in — no need to pretend this is about having fun. This is stress relief. It’s less sustainable than the habit you’ve picked up of a shared cigarette afterwards, but it’s better for your lungs.

It started like a glass of wine after work. If one could be a sommelier of sex, it’d be Javi. A taste, another taste, another, and you learned quickly how every drink goes down smoother than the last. Until it doesn’t.

It was hot and heavy in the beginning. Javier loved when you wore pencil skirts and heels, he loved to shove your skirt up, rip your pantyhose, pull your panties to the side while you’re up against the kitchen counter. He’d run two fingers over your slit before pushing them both inside, making his fingertips slick when he rubbed your clit and taunted you for your wetness.

“Were you like this all day at work? Or did it just take a kiss to make you this wet?”

“All day,” you’d admit shamelessly. “I’m sure I wasn’t the only one who wanted this.”

“You’re right about that. I had to take an extra smoke break outside after you bent over in that slutty little skirt.”

“Did you do anything about it?”

“What do you think?” He’d press his hips up against your ass, still clothed but you could feel how hard he was.

“I think you should do something about it now.”

It was vulgar, it was gossip, it was a tidbit to dish out when you got tipsy with your girlfriends. You’d tell them all about how he fucked like no man ever had before and they’d beg for his number, but you’d never reveal his identity. He was more of a myth than a man.

Office romances are sexy, particularly the fictional ones, and in the books you browse to humor yourself on the occasion that you have some downtime, the characters always seem to get caught or fall in love or both, often both. These are horror stories wrapped up as fantasies. Getting caught fucking in the file room is bad, everyone knows that, but falling in love is certainly worse.

You only fucked in the office once, and fucked is a bit of an exaggeration as it was only a blowjob, preceded by a wager-less bet.

“What’s this?” Murphy asked, plucking the book from your purse.

Before you could snatch it from him, he read the title aloud, “Loving Is A Full-Time Job.”

“It’s nothing. It’s just a stupid book a friend recommended to me.”

He turned it over, skimmed through the reviews on the back. “Warning: there’s a lot of inside-her trading in this one.”

You were halfway between disgust and amusement, though you should’ve been thoroughly embarrassed. Regardless, you let him know, “I’m on page 104 and there hasn’t been anything inside her thus far.”

Of course, you’d only fed his appetite, and he flipped to the page you’re on.

“Read it out loud,” Javi chimed in. “You’ve piqued my interest.”

So, he did. He read out the scene of the financial advisor getting sucked off by his colleague while he’s taking a phone call.

“Totally unrealistic,” Murphy remarked. “No way they wouldn’t have gotten caught.”

“Nah,” Javi said. “You just don’t have a good poker face. I guarantee you I could pull it off.”

“Maybe you can invite one of those ‘CIs’ to the office and try it out,” you said, patronizingly to hide the arousal you felt at the idea.

You assumed the discussion had ended when Murphy left the room and returned the book to you.

“Is someone a bit jealous?” Javi taunted.

“No, I am not jealous of your whores.”

“You sure? You really looked like you were enjoying that book earlier. Were you thinking about performing a scene with your sexy coworker?”

“I think you’re projecting, Javier.”

You could see the mischief in his eyes, daring you to do something.

“We would one hundred percent get caught even if we tried.”

“No. I’m great under pressure. I can keep a straight face. Swear.”

You glanced towards the door and saw no one in the hallway. “Are you serious right now?” you asked.

He said nothing, just pulled out his chair, letting you climb under his desk. You grimaced at him, but you’d made your choice already.

“You owe me,” you said before unbuckling his belt.

“You want me to do the same for you? Because you know I will.”

“No, I don’t want to risk getting in trouble twice, thank you very much.”

“I figured. You can’t seem to keep quiet whenever I—” he cut himself off with a groan when you took him as far as you could without gagging.

“What were you saying?” you asked, pulling back with a string of spit still connecting your lips to his tip.

He made the mistake of looking down to see your pretty face when your lips found their way to his cock again. He bit his fist to hold back the groan you could hear in your own head, pulling it from a memory, which only served to make you want him more.

As much as you would’ve loved to see Javi break, you knew you shouldn’t try. Murphy’s the only one who re-entered the room — and seemed relatively unbothered by your absence — still, you didn’t need him to see this.

Only Javi gets to see you like this.

It was glorious to see him come like this — for you — despite his victory. It was miserable to sit on the tiled floor for over an hour, particularly when you were so close to the man you wanted more than anything else.

In the parking lot, you learned he wanted you even more than you wanted him, and sprawled out on his couch, he proved it to you.

“Just made me want you more,” he murmured. “Seeing you like that.”

“You wanna see me like that again?”

“No, I need to make you feel good.”

With that, he yanked your pants down along with your panties. While one hand stroked your g-spot, the other was clamped over your mouth because his tongue does dangerous things, and you couldn’t get another noise complaint.

It was routine like any other, the typical progression you learn as ‘bases’ in adolescence. Unlike baseball, it did not last nine innings. He took you over the edge quickly, not sparing any time. When you opened your eyes, he was already ripping the foil packet with his teeth.

You passed a cigarette back and forth in silence until your feet hit the floor and you gave him the classic, “see you at work.”

After a typically stressful day, you knock on his door and are greeted by only his voice, not his face. You have a key to his apartment. He doesn’t need to let you in, you can do that yourself, but it still strikes you as rude. Are you really a guest in his home anymore? 

You made yourself look sort of presentable, a bit more fuckable, in the traditional sense. Before walking down the steps to his apartment, you changed your dress into one that’s easier to pull up or down, prepared to let him take you however he wanted. 

But, when you open the door, there’s a cigarette in his left hand and a glass of whiskey in his right. There is nothing left of him to hold you.

He’s shirtless, his pants are on, but they’re unzipped. Your skin is a bit dewy because it’s hot outside, but his sweat is unmistakable. You’re looking at him and he’s looking at you, but he notices you noticing first. Though, what is there to notice about you?                                 

Your mouth opens before the words come out.

“I’m gonna go,” you say, pivoting on your heels.

“Why?” he asks.

What angers you most is that he’s asking for an explanation when he already knows the answer. 

“I feel like I shouldn’t be here right now.”

“There’s no one else here.”

“I didn’t think you’d invite me in if there was.”

He nods, so you nod back. This time you’re looking into each other’s eyes, and seeing each other, deeper than before, but something is still missing, something that you do not find until much later in whatever' ‘relationship’ you have with him.

“Goodnight, Peña,” you say as you leave, really intent on it this time.

But if you didn’t want him to know, you wouldn’t have given him the hint. You call him ‘Javi’, maybe ‘Javier’, but you don’t call him by his last name, not even in the office.

“So that’s how it is, huh?” he calls after you. “You’re pissed at me?”

“No, I’m not.”

“You’re not happy.”

“Are you really going to make me say it? You know exactly why I’m leaving.”

“I thought we knew how to talk to each other. I don’t hold shit back from you.”

You scoff, turn your head to the door like it’ll open and the wind will carry you away. 

“You just slept with someone else,” you say, gesturing to his body, only looking him in the eyes because that’s the one place that seems untouched.

“And? I didn’t know there was an exclusivity clause in this deal.” Deal, he calls it with a finger pointed between the two of you, almost accusatory now.

“There isn’t. I don’t care if you sleep with other women.” Except you do. “I’d just rather you shower in between.”

“I can go shower if you care that much.”

“I don’t care if you shower or not.”

“You just said that you did.”

“I said that I’m not having sex with you because—”

“Because you’re mad at me — unjustifiably, by the way.”

“I’m not mad at you. I’m just a human-fucking-being.” You should leave, but you don’t. “What if you came over and I had obviously just had sex with some other man? Wouldn’t you leave?”

“No. I wouldn’t give a fuck because I know I’d fuck you better.”

You’re seething, one fist strangling the strap of your purse and the other balled into a fist. You think about hitting him, but you wouldn’t, couldn’t, shouldn’t. He’s right, he hasn’t technically done anything wrong. 

“Fine.” You stomp towards him and he stubs out his cigarette, like he’s making space in his hands for you.

You stand in front of him, look down, and say only one word: “shower”. You point towards his bathroom, and he goes along with it. He rarely submits to you. It’s not really his thing, he’d say. But, he returns with a towel around his waist and his skin dewy with something new. Plus, a condom between two fingers and a face that pisses you off even further. Cocky, per usual.

You can see the smart remark before it comes out of his mouth, and you shush him. “You don’t speak, you don’t touch me, you do exactly as I say, or I’ll leave. Got it?”

“I thought you wanted to show me how you could fuck me better.”

“I never said that. Those were your words. This is for me. Not for you.”

“Have at it,” he says, dropping the towel before falling back onto the sofa.

You could taunt him for being hard but this isn’t about him. Not at all. This is about finding some way to hurt him the way he’s hurt you — really, if you plan to even the score, you’ll have to make him do it all himself.

But when you walked in, he was satisfied, worn out, in an unusually peaceful state. Now, he’s won again. He gets to have you, to know that you still want him even when he wants other women.

You suck on his collarbone, the nape of his neck, up to the point just below the neckline of the shirt he’ll wear to work tomorrow. If you were braver, you’d mark him up higher. But he’s not yours, no one else can know about this. Except for that woman. Whoever she may be. If she comes around in the next few days, she’ll see the bruise, she’ll know.

His moans are shameless. You suppose, no matter how hard you try, you can’t make him feel the same insecurity. But he leans his head back, exposing more skin, almost daring you to do it. He doesn’t know that you prepared yourself a bit for this, but you shove two fingers in his mouth and drag them over your slit so you can act like you’re not already as wet as you are.

You sink down effortlessly, take him all inside you, set your own pace. You only touch him to dig your nails in, to bite him, to put your hands around his neck just to see if he’d let you choke him. But you don’t dare squeeze.

There were two possible outcomes in your mind: one, you would make sure you came first, and immediately retreat from him, leave without a word, or, two, you could make him come first and keep going until the point of complete overstimulation, you could make him beg and cry. But, his stamina is too good, and you end up at a standstill, you’re both holding back, waiting for the other to break. Your breath is heavy and ragged but you bite back every moan until one slips and it’s his fucking name, a sob. He lifts his head, which had lolled back long ago, says to you softly, like he’s not breaking the rules if he’s quiet, “let me help you.”

Javier Peña always gets to be the hero. 

It’s so goddamn genuine. It’s your own battle you’re fighting against no one, but he tells you that you’ve won. That it’s fine to give in, that you’ve done well at whatever it was you wanted to do.

You just nod — it’s your turn to stay silent because, as you both know, every word you say can and will be held against you.

He flips you over so gently, gracefully, has you crying through languid thrusts.

“Just let go.”

“No, you first.”

“I will, baby, I will.”

Baby, baby, baby. He doesn’t call you that because he’s not allowed to — that is one of the few rules. It’s not the word itself, but the way he says it. It’s not ‘my love’ or ‘my wife’, but you can hear devotion creep into his tone and it’s dangerous. It feels like he’s reserved the word for you, like it belongs to you just as much as your own name does.

“Mm-mm. You first.”

“Baby, I need to see you come first. I need to feel it. Please.”

Please. That’s it. Politeness — you wouldn’t have thought Javier had it in him. When you come, you know you’ve won.

You cling to him for dear life as you cry out his name, and he insists, “I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”

When you put your clothes back on, you notice he looks more worn out than he did when you arrived and that’s good enough for you.

“Are we good now?” he asks.

“Yes. See you at work,” you say.

Which is how it always ends.

You file it under ‘things we’re not going to talk about’ — it’s a simultaneous, mutual action, but you don’t say a word to each other about it because we’re not going to talk about it.

What happens in the bedroom — proverbially — stays in the bedroom because it would be too complicated otherwise.

Until the night he shows up at your doorstep, looking more disheveled than ever. The word ‘please’ only gets halfway out of his mouth before yours shuts him up.

You want to take care of him tonight. You drop to your knees, silently offering. But, he pulls you up to your feet.

“You don’t want me to—”

“I want to kiss you.”

It’s not that you never kiss. You just don’t kiss like that, like wanting, like longing — still needy, but with an adoration you cannot face.

Maybe Javier kisses because it’s the one form of intimacy that doesn’t force you to look the other person in the eye. Eyes are the window to the soul, they say. Javi’s eyes contain a softness that you cannot find outside of warm summer nights that exist so far in space and time that you can barely reach the memories. He holds hope in his entire body — hope isn’t usually a pretty little thing that Emily Dickinson said it was — it’s hardened and stubborn, it is the fucking metal bars that keep him here in Colombia despite it all. But, there is something kinder hidden, a flicker, something you haven’t seen in the mirror since you were a child. It’s something more than hope.

Taking care of Javier is letting him give himself to you, listening to every noise you make and repeating whatever he did to hear it the first time so he could hear it again. It’s making you come twice, the road to each orgasm drawn out, leaving tears in your eyes when it finally hits you. It’s pretending not to hear him say your name after a muffled whimper when he finally lets himself come.

He undresses before getting into your bed because he doesn’t want to carry whatever sweat, blood, and guilt that stained his clothes.

Rarely would you see him like this, so vulnerable — only when you were atop him, and though you’d always see a second sense of release whenever you ended up in that position, he would insist it isn’t his favorite.

Javier’s favorite position is the one you spend most of the night in — missionary, the type of sex you’re supposed to have on your wedding night when you lose your virginity to your soulmate, the love of your life, and maybe Javi sees it that way.

It’s not like that, it can’t be. You’re coworkers, you’re sleepy and he’s exhausted. He needs you to help him sleep. And this time it has nothing to do with an orgasm. When he decides he should stand up, he lingers by the bed.

You’re both too scared to be the one to ask, so no one asks, instead, you tell him: “stay”.

It’s quiet, like maybe you can get him to believe no one ever said it. But not weary, you’re strong even in your weakness. At your most vulnerable, you are commanding.

So, he does. He resigns himself to the fact that he is powerless in the face of such sincerity. He needs to sleep, so he does — entangled with you, naked still.

In the morning, you want to say, “Let me go make some coffee” or “Get back in bed” or “I love you”, but none of those words have the chance to leave your mouth before Javi reaches the door.

“See you Monday,” he says.

You see him before that, though, in a dream, then a nightmare, then a memory, and a glimpse of him getting into his car and driving away.

And, as promised, you see him on Monday. His fingertips that ran along your skin fumble over the keys on his typewriter, he holds the phone between his head and his shoulder — where you should’ve left a mark, his lips that kissed you only days ago wrap around the last cigarette in the pack. There is nothing left for him in his desk drawer. He stubs it out in the ashtray next to him. If Javier knows one thing it is how to light a flame and turn it to dust before your eyes. 

[multiheadcanons]

MERCS AND CHORES

scout: scout is on detail duty for the entire base. he gets the trim on the walls, ensures every trash can has a fresh bag, sweeps under dressers and cabinets, and dusts the knick knacks in all common areas. the things that take no time that he can accomplish quickly and move to the next thing. scout used to be a chronic micromanager of cleaning and cleaning duties that the team had to sit down and permanently divvy out chores so scout would stop complaining that he was doing all of the work and nobody else does anything. so now, if something isn’t done, the team knows exactly who to bitch at to complete their chore. in his defense and for what it’s worth, he was absolutely right. those men were greatly affected by the bystander effect of doing the dishes.

soldier: soldier is on dishes and bathroom duty of the offense wing. soldier was happy to take bathroom duty for the offensive class, and he’s the best fit for the job, truly. doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty, to the point that they ensured the offensive wing has the best cleaning products in the base. fast with the dishes. takes him about three hours to get them all washed, dried and put away. on top of which, soldier is never afraid to get on the others’ asses about cleaning their own dishes, or at least rinsing them and making his job easier. he can half his time if he gets some help.

pyro: pyro is on trash duty. they collect all the trash weekly from every single room, and someone will take them a couple hours out into the wasteland and they incinerate the garbage. saves the company from paying waste fees. it also means the mercs get to skim more off the top from the stipend. this is the only real chore anyone trusts pyro with, this and cleaning their own personal areas. and these things get accomplished every monday evening. they switch out who drives pyro out to the wasteland, and nobody comes back with any complaints about pyro as a passenger in the car.

demo: demo is on sweep duty for the base and bathroom duty for the defense wing. he enjoys his chores, it gives him something to do that isn't lazing around in bed waiting for battle. he always starts in the offense wing and ends in the support wing, since the support classes are hardly ever in their actual bedrooms for the area to see any traffic. it makes it a great place to hide out from having to help anyone else with their chores, but he'll only do that if he's feeling particularly lazy that day. if nobody beats him there, he'll join soldier on dish duty. prefers drying them off.

heavy: on top of being the secondary resident grocery shopper, heavy is on counter/cabinet/wall duty for the entire base. once a week, those base walls are hit with a 1:1 cleaner concoction. if he's really in a cleaning groove, he can finish his task in about two hours. otherwise, he takes his time with it. makes sure he gets every corner, does a marginal wipe of the trim so scout can follow behind him and get a more thorough clean. the first time he had to do the walls the amount of cobwebs genuinely disgusted him. he couldn't fathom everyone was actually living in this and didn't think anything about it. so he's learned to enjoy his little chore. it's been nice to walk through the base and just smell cleaner. makes him feel less like an animal.

engineer: engie will avoid doing chores like he's in a saw trap. so to permanently get out of doing any chore, once a week he does a full check up of any electrical/mechanical fixture in the base. he's changing lights, checking fuse boxes, tuning up and detailing the company cars, rewiring entire panels if it means that he doesn't have to pick up a broom or put a dish away. he is also one of the only teammates who will clean up behind himself, but with the chore chart now he can skirt that entirely. and he'll insist that he's helping around the base, and in a way he is! just not in a way that seems equal to everyone else. but when anyone complains, he hands them a wrench and tells them to go for it. they never do.

medic: the doctor spends more time than he likes to admit keeping the infirmary clean, between himself and the birds he's a mess and hardly able to keep up, but that didn't stop him from getting mop duty for the base. luckily, it’s his only chore, and between him and demo they can get the floors immaculate in about an hour, two if they’re really pussyfooting with it. before he was banned from the kitchen, he was also the resident organizer of space. he’s insane with it, his spatial awareness is immaculate. snipes will turn a blind eye to him in the kitchen if he’s organizing the pantries, as long as the doctor makes a meal big enough for two.

sniper: snipes is the main resident grocery shopper and that is his only job in the base. he spends such little time in the base that it didn’t really make sense to make him take on another task. since the doctor isn’t allowed in the kitchen, he’s since had to also put the groceries away, and he hates it. it’s exhausting enough to have to shop for the groceries. now he has to put them away too? he’ll get the doctor to do it. takes him about twenty minutes. he knows eventually soldier has to leave the kitchen, and spy won’t snitch. he and the doctor are buds.

spy: spy takes care of the kitchen, is on detail duty, bathroom duty for the support wing, and the general manager of chores. the only thing he won’t do is dishes. everything else he’s willing to do. spy is not afraid of some soap and water, and cleaning is almost meditative for him. it’s nice for the ten minutes the place will remain clean, then he remembers it’s an endless battle. sometimes he would rather not, but it’s always worth those ten minutes.

[sorry-moots]

Stress Relief or whatever

idk what to call this but basically viktor assumes reader is attracted to jayce when that is Not the case (ooh that rhymes) tags: reader insert, gn!reader, assistant!reader, no use of y/n, reader is not from zaun, oral fixation if you squint cw: none, suggestive(?)

Viktor is used to the attention Jayce gets. He's tall, muscular, good-looking... and he doesn't need a cane or a brace to walk.

He's also not 'trencher trash' like Viktor is.

When you start working in the lab as an assistant, he's not surprised by your coquettish mannerisms. How you bend over to pick up fallen objects, instead of crouching. How you leave enough of your shirt unbuttoned to show off but still be considered decent.

Viktor especially takes note of your lips. You're always biting, chewing, and picking at your lips. His favorite part of any work day is when your lips get chapped. You always, without fail, turn to face the room when you apply your lip balm, like a lone performer gazing out at an auditorium full of people. And– just like a lone performer blinded by the stage lights that illuminate them– it's like you can tell your performance is being watched, even if you can't tell exactly who comprises your audience.

The point your eyes fix on varies but it's always in the vicinity of Jayce's desk, moreso when he's gone. Initially, he felt resentful; even when he wasn't in the room your attention was on his friend. This resentment eventually faded in light of this silver lining: you look breathtaking to him at this angle.

As Jayce becomes more occupied with his position as a councilor, you and Viktor work alone more often than not. The pressure to develop Hextech is tenfold without Jayce's help and it shows.

As an assistant, there isn't much you can do to help. Your job entails documentation of findings, restocking supplies, cleaning instruments, things of that nature. With Viktor working longer and harder to make progress, however, you start bringing meals and brewing tea. It's easier to get him to take a break when you ask him to eat with you, as opposed to just reminding him that he is human and his body requires sustenance.

One of these late nights, long after you had cleared away dinner, you approached him at his desk and started clearing away his things as he leaned back in his chair and massaged his temples. The sight has you overcome with impatience.

Circling around to his side of the desk, you seat yourself on the flat surface. "Viktor, before I leave, I was wondering..." you start, biting at your lip with anticipation. When he looks up and he's overwhelmed by the intensity of your stare as you undress him with your eyes.

"Is there anything else I can do to... alleviate your stress?" you ask, gaze settling at the nexus of his body.

It is then that he realizes every 'performance' you had put on was for him. The pleasant surprise that arises within him is evident as he smiles and answers your question with his own.

"What did you have in mind?"

a/n: i'm really sorry if this sucks but this man deserves the sloppiest toppy humanly possible and i needed to say it

[syluscore]

I'm a Loser, Baby

~loser, creep, disgusting, vile! König x fem! Reader~

Word count: 1103

Content warnings: harassment, cyber-bullying (digs at reader's personality, appearance, dead loved ones, and telling her to kill herself), stalking, nonconsensual touching(while sleeping), gross stuff (involving a toothbrush, silverware, and menstrual blood), male masturbation, fantasies about period sex, defiling corpse mention

!!!!!!STRICTLY 18+ BLOG! MINORS DNI!!!!!!!!

He’s obsessed with you and you never really pay attention to him. At first, you were intrigued by the giant masked man, but he’s so awkward and says the most unsettling things that you’re completely put off.  And it irritates the shit out of him.

It’s his personal mission to knock you down a few pegs. He starts anonymously bullying and harassing you. So many mean messages from random numbers and throwaway emails. You block every single one, but he always has more at the ready and makes more as needed. Apps such as TextNow have made this so much easier for him.

Fucking stupid. Useless woman. No one wants you around.

Ugliest thing I’ve ever seen.

No wonder you have no friends. Bet your family hates you too. 

Your laugh makes me gag and your teeth are disgusting. Cover your mouth, tramp.

I hope you hate yourself everyday, and if you ever forget, I’ll always be here to remind you. 

Ever thought of just killing yourself? Doing the world a fucking favor.

Your body is the most hideous thing I’ve ever seen. Seen whales built better than you.

If you blew your face off, you’d be a lot more attractive. 

If you hung yourself in front of everyone, they’d just watch. Wouldn’t even try to save you. Worthless.

Personality is about as good as unseasoned chicken. Waste of space.

You ever stared at your side profile? Obviously not since you haven’t killed yourself yet.

He finds people online to send you messages and even call you too. All he has to do is send a little money their way and your contact info, they do all the rest. 

He watches the light slowly fade from your eyes as the messages get more and more elaborate. People online can get really creative. When you change your number and make a second email, he chuckles to himself and immediately forwards them along. 

You’re in your head a lot more now. Not paying attention much to everyone around you, fucking up in training which only makes you feel worse. Gives him extra time to go through your things and watch you in your oblivious state.

You don’t notice the little chew marks on your toothbrush. Him sneaking into your bathroom at least twice a week to suck on the object while he jerks himself off into your skin. You set your dirty spoon in the sink and the second you’re gone, he’s sucking and licking on that too. Groaning knowing your saliva is inside of him.

It continues to escalate until he finds himself going through your things. All of your things. He rummages through your trash casually. Your bathroom trash isn’t safe from his dirty hands either. 

Your monthly cycle is his favorite. He’s always enjoyed the sight of blood and yours makes him fucking feral. He keeps himself from outright touching or tasting the blood, but when he finds a pair of blood stained panties that you couldn’t be bothered with trying to clean or keeping for another cycle, he loses his mind.

It’s probably one of his favorite keepsakes of all time. Using the piece of fabric as a fidget toy of sorts. Whenever he’s alone in his room, he has them in his hands just rubbing them between his large fingers. Jerking himself off with the blood stained fabric numerous times. Always wondering what it’d feel like to fuck you while you’re bleeding–how much blood would coat your thighs and his cock.

In a locked drawer in his own room, he has almost a shrine dedicated to you. Little things he’s stolen from you and so many pictures of you. All taken when you’re unaware of them. An obscene amount of them from when you’re sleeping. Of him touching you when you’re sleeping. Of his cock touching your face and hands when you’re sleeping.

One day he’s leaned back in a kitchen chair, arms crossed over his chest while he thinks of what to do to torment you next, when you walk in eyes bloodshot. Like you’d just been crying. Which you had been thanks to a really nice message getting under your skin. One about defiling your dead relative’s corpse because it’d be more desirable than you. 

König stares at you, not moving a muscle or making a sound. You avoid eye contact as you aimlessly stare in the fridge.

He finally speaks up. “Okay. What’s wrong?” You try to brush it off, telling him it’s nothing, but he keeps pressing. And soon tears are falling from your eyes again and it has his cock hardening in his pants. 

You spill your guts. The harassment. The constant texts and emails. The bullying. The threats. The thing about your loved ones corpse. And König silently listens until your sobs finally stop. 

“You know, I know some people who can deal with this sort of thing. Could make a couple calls and make this disappear.” He fails to mention it’s because he’d call off his specialized force of internet dickheads. 

“Oh,” you speak quietly. “You don’t have to do that. Just feeling sensitive today. I’m sure I’ll feel fine again tomorrow.” Right. Your period should be here within a couple of days. PMS will do that to you–it always does. Best time to pay his people a little extra to be extra mean and consistent. 

“No. I insist. You’re being harassed and that is unacceptable.”

Your eyes soften, your lip continuing to tremble as you finally meet his eyes. “You’d–why would you do that for me? You’re willing to do that for me?”

König just barely nods his head. “Of course.”

You let out a sigh and wipe your tears, smiling widely at him. It has him completely rethinking his motives. You’re the cutest thing he’s ever seen when smiling up at him like that. 

Before he can process it, you’re wrapping your arms tightly around his waist and nuzzling your face against his chest. “Thank you, König!” You say happily, having full faith in him that he’ll accomplish this for you. 

That’s when you feel it. His fully hard cock. Pressing into you. Not a weapon, not a phone. His erection. You slowly take a few steps back from him, a look of disgust on your face. You stare at him for a fat minute before turning on your heels, storming out of the room. But not before yelling, “Pig!”

König does a full 180. Goes from smirking under his mask, to rage filled eyes. Have it your way. His efforts will now double in fucking with you. Self-righteous little bitch. 

~masterlist~

consider supporting me on ko-fi

[cultofdixon]

Strong, Healthy, that’s all that matters

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Part 2 to ��You do what you can” • Alexandria is a wonderful luxury the group was given. Even with the ups and downs • ANGST/SFW/NSFW - Nudity • TW: Miscarriage Mentioned / Pregnancy / Vomiting & Excessive Nausea / Canon Violence

Requested by: Anon

PREV

“Why are you out here and not inside with Y/N?” Carol asked her best friend from her porch while he sat on the fence fiddling with his crossbow.

“Doc gave her a sedative. She’s safe, don’t gotta watch her”

“Then why are you biting your thumb every now and then?” She comments on his anxious habit resulting in Daryl stopping himself from continuing.

“She’s weak, can barely stand weak. I’m tryin’ to think of what to do for her when the best thing for her right now is sleep and the IV that doc put in her. He comes by every hour to give us a new one and take the old one to refill. Rick or I change it but I don’t know what else I could do”

“Well, how about I make something that I ate during my pregnancy that I knew I kept down…see if Y/N can handle it. If not, I’ll keep making things pregnancy friendly with what we’ve got.”

“I heard what yea said when they took her to the infirmary.” Daryl hung his head low to avoid her shocked expression. “You wished she’d lost it, then she wouldn’t be useless when we take this place if people fuck with us enough.”

“Daryl—-“

“If yea mean it, then do that shit for my partner and our baby. Otherwise I’ve got it.”

“Yet you’re siting out here and not being with her. Doesn’t matter if you can’t do anything but watch her sleep or hell, sleep with her why not. That’s doing something” Carol states walking past to go to the pantry.

“You look ridiculous by the way!” He had to make one last comment which got a laugh out of the woman.

After a bit more time sitting on the porch to think of anything else he could do for his partner, he decided it was best to listen to his best friend. But when he entered the bedroom Y/N took, she wasn’t in bed and her IV bag was unhooked from her and clamped to keep it from continuing to dispense. Daryl was about to let his anxiety take over when he heard splashing of water.

The second he peaked his head into the bathroom, Y/N quickly turned to him.

“Hi…”

“Hi…how are yea…” His face distorted to the mixture of smells happening in the room. “feeling? What is—-“

“Vomit. I didn’t…make it to the toilet or the trash can at least and puked all over my clothes” Y/N frowns feeling awful about it as she quickly turned away to avoid her tears being noticeable. It’s small potatoes but she’s crying anyway…and again.

Daryl brought himself to kneel by the bath gently taking her chin bringing her attention onto him. He then took care of wiping away the tears bringing out that smile of hers as he leans against the edge of the tub.

“I’ll get you clean clothes. There’s sweats I saw….uhm. Did you take your IV out? Do I have to get—-“

“No it was uhm. The IV tubing was one like a screw in and not a needle piercing the plastic” Y/N showed him that she taped the excess tubing to her arm and did her best to keep it dry. “It’s honestly hard to explain and just easier to show you when I put it back in”

“Puttin’ your old nursing days to use”

“Surprised you even remember that…and it was just a clinic” Y/N laughs softly sinking a bit into the water that was starting to lose its warmth.

“Everythin’ you’ve said to me, I’ve kept to memory. You’re my girl.” Daryl gave her a soft smile which she will take to memory as she brought her hand to rest on his cheek watching him kiss the inside of her palm.

“You know you don’t have to be calm with me…” Y/N reassures even when he gave her a confused look. “I have gotten pretty good at reading your expressions, especially your infamous blank ones…I know you don’t like it here. It’s…scary and I’m not gonna get used to it instantly either or like the others”

“All I want is to keep my family safe. Something doesn’t feel right here but all I gotta do is keep y’all safe”

Y/N smiles bringing herself to the edge pressing a kiss to his lips as he happily returns the gesture.

“Need help out?” Daryl asks when Y/N pulled the stopper out to let the water drain. She nods watching him stand up holding his hands out for her to take carefully.

The second Daryl helped her stand to her feet his eyes fixated on something that anxiously took Y/N’s attention.

“What happened?”

“Nothin’. Nothin’ bad” Daryl states still staring as he helps her out of the tub and reaching for the towel on the sink she set out for herself. “You’re showin’” he says while gently wrapping her in the towel and finding the opportunity to rest his hand on her belly after giving her a quick glance for any signs from her of not wanting him to do such.

But his large hands make it look like nothing in comparison to Y/N keeping the towel from covering her belly a moment so she could rest her hand on her small but growing bump. She couldn’t help the tears that started to form at her waterline when looking at the small bump as she was worried ever since she found out she was pregnant and had this 1 in a million case of intense nausea that the baby wouldn’t grow.

Yet here they were admiring the small thing as Daryl rest his forehead against hers a moment while they both looked before he wrapped her entirely in the towel and picking her up bridal style carrying her back to the rest of bedroom.

Once she dressed in the sweats and long sleeve Daryl had gotten out for her, it felt like a cue for Rick to step in without knocking but Y/N was used to that. She grew up with the guy.

“How are yea feeling?”

“I’m doing okay” Y/N gave him a tired smile while showing Daryl how to reconnect the IV bag. “Did you need something?”

“Yeah you remember Deanna coming in to introduce herself to you?”

“Yeah?” The confusion grew on her partner’s face to what he was getting at.

“She’s throwing a welcoming party or whatever they’re called for our infusion to the place. She wants you to come if you’re feeling well enough”

“I could just lie—-“

“Yeah I know but I have to go and so are the kids. I’d just. Like it if you came” Rick says on his way out before Y/N could say anymore on the matter. She turned to Daryl and before he could share his concerns on why he doesn’t exactly feel welcomed…

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to. Frankly I don’t…really want to either. I never fit in with this kind of crowd” Y/N rest her head on Daryl’s shoulder feeling his arm snake around her bringing her close. “You just be safe with whatever you do and I promise you I will be safe.”

“You just know what to say huh?” Daryl chuckles lightly pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I’ll uh…well, I wanna check out the place when there’s not a lot of people ‘round”

“Can you make sure the wall is actually secure?”

“That what you’re really worried about?”

“I’m pregnant, Dar. I’m worried about a lot of things”

The night of the party came and Rick quietly approaches Y/N’s bedroom knocking on the door frame watching her attention go from the full body mirror to him. She was wearing a dress that was more on the fitted side and showed off her bump, the dress was given to her by Deanna. As if she wanted to show everyone who the pregnant newcomer was.

“You look miserable”

“Yeah but not in that sense. The doc came by to check me out…as per request by—-“

“Jesus fucking Christ”

“And he said I should be fine to go. So I can’t really stand up this party…especially since she also dropped this dress off and it’s like. She wants everyone to know I’m the pregnant one”

“Yeah I don’t quite understand this whole “reliving the old life” Alexandria’s got going for it. But I’ve found a sweater in my closet that I think you’d like to wear over the dress.” Rick tossed his sister the grey sweater that she instantly put on. “Well don’t we clean up nice”

“You miss it?” Y/N questions as she sits on the edge of the bed slipping her untied converse with ease as Rick instantly knelt down to help her by tying them. “The old world?”

“Honest? I don’t”

“Why?”

“I missed my sister, now I see her everyday” Rick stood to his feet once he tied her shoes and helped her up. “I don’t ever want to go back to rarely ever seeing you”

The first thirty minutes of the party, Y/N was approached by those simply introducing themselves to the newcomers and the occasional woman that was too curious about her pregnancy. She even had to swat someone from touching her belly. It seemed to only get worse when one of Deanna’s sons, Aiden walked over trying to do his usual shtick.

“Come here often?”

Gross. “Nope” Y/N tried to brush him off but he kept his place.

“I saw yea come in on a stretcher. Thank god a bombshell like yourself pulled through”

“I wasn’t dying”

“Ah well. Still”

“Still what? Did you not see the man glued to my side or the smallest but obvious reason why I had to be rolled into this shithole?” Y/N glared at the man while holding her belly as Aiden cleared his throat.

“I uh. Just thought you were fat—-“

“EXCUSE ME?!” Y/N scoffs about to break this man in half when Maggie cut in and physically shoved the guy back.

“Woah watch it. I was having a conversa—-“

“Yeah and it’s done, unless you want me to let her beat you to a pulp”

“Like her weak ass can even land a punch”

And without another word, Maggie moved out of Y/N’s way and she didn’t hesitate to land a good one right in the kisser. Aiden instantly fumbled back about to fight back when Reg instantly pulled his son away letting Deanna take care of the situation. But Y/N had enough of being there.

“Come on Rocky, let’s get you home before the ref realizes what happened to her bitch of a son” Maggie quickly wrapped an arm around her friend’s shoulders walking out of the house and heading toward the Grimes’s residence.

“Hope Daryl is having a better time than I am.” Y/N frowns feeling the sick feeling return.

Meanwhile Daryl was checking out the bike frame Aaron had shown him and while he was making a plate for the archer’s partner…Eric wobbled in.

“Hey you never told us your wife’s name”

“She’s not my—-Y/N—We ain’t married.” Daryl fumbled a bit as he had that strange old world feeling when it came to their “situation”.

Y/N Grimes is the love of Daryl Dixon’s life. Neither of them like labels.

Daryl calls her sunshine, darling, and lovely.

Y/N calls him my love, babe, and the occasional Darbear for the fun of it.

The archer calls her his partner to others and some part of him would love to use my wife.

So what’s stopping me? Daryl thought as Eric gave him a confused look after his scrambling.

“I know we just met but do you mind if I push?”

“Why do yea want to?”

“Because I feel like it. I talked to Y/N when we were both in the infirmary” Eric leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed. “She’s a catch, and fate brought you two together…you don’t need a fancy wedding for a union anymore. I get some don’t like labels or whatever, but honestly, those labels are sometimes not for you…besides” He reached into his pocket tossing a ring box at the archer. “She loved that”

Such little time in the infirmary lead to a lot of unanswered questions. But Daryl found himself heading back to the Grimes’s residence with a wrapped plate of spaghetti and a ring in a velvet box. Nothing too fancy. Nothing like what the brides have in the old movies. It suited them. That’s how perfect it was.

“Hey Dixon!” Pete calls out to Daryl carrying a few things in his hands as he stalls by the steps. “Got a few things for your woman after doing a bit of research and what happened tonight”

“The fuck happen tonight?”

Pete gave him about the same level of blank staring before handing him one of those instant ice packs. “She punched the Monroe boy. Should help with the bruising. Plus found one of these pregnancy books in what we are suppose to call a library? Anyway and some nausea meds”

“Thanks…” Daryl accepted everything as he watches him leave before quickly picking up where he left off heading inside.

The archer quickly dropped the plate off on the kitchen island before making his way upstairs and into their shared room finding her still awake. Y/N still wearing the sweater her brother gave her but was finally out of that stupid dress. When she locked eyes with her partner, some part of her wished she still wore it for him to see but she was more focused on everything he carried.

“You were busy tonight”

“Uh. I guess.” Daryl brought himself to sit beside Y/N feeling her lips instantly press onto his cheek the moment he sat before resting her cheek against his shoulder. “Heard about your right hook”

“Dumbass deserved it…”

“Gotta point him out for me, so I know who to fucking show who’s boss”

“I sort of already did, but I will” Y/N laughs lightly against him, taking the offered instant ice pack to crack it and hold it on her dominant hand. “What else you’ve got?”

“I’ve got yea a plate in the kitchen. Had dinner with Aaron and his partner Eric. It was…nice. I wish you were there with me” Daryl kissed the top of her head as she snuggled up into him humming in response. “The doc also gave me meds for yea to try when it comes to your vomiting”

“I can take down fluids so I don’t need the IV anymore. That’s one good thing happening”

“That’s great” Daryl repeated the phrase once more before carefully pulling away from Y/N setting down the nausea meds along with the pregnancy book that peaked her interest—-for only a short moment.

Because the archer getting down on one knee instantly brought her attention away.

“Daryl Dixon. What are you doing?”

“Something…something stupid? I…I know about what we think of labels and shit but I can’t shake this”

“Daryl…” Y/N softens bringing herself entirely to the edge of the bed.

“I’ve been wanting to call you my wife since the last month of peace back at the prison. I want and am gonna spend the rest of my life with you…and this peanut is just. Our overflowing love onto another human being…”

“So poetic of you, Daryl Dixon…” Y/N laughs softly bringing his face into her hands as the tears instantly fell from her touch.

“I love you so much, sunshine”

“I love you so much more Darbear” She smirks hearing his annoyed laugh escape his lips as she gently wipes away his tears. “Now are you going to ask me? Because I don’t need a ring to tell the world how much I love being your wife”

Daryl gently pulls away to take the ring box out of a pocket in his vest as it surprised Y/N slightly when he opened it. It brought out a small tearful laugh to the silver arrow wrapped into a ring. It was a little cheesy but it was for them.

“Will you be my wife, Y/N Grimes?”

“I do, Daryl Dixon. I sure as fucking hell do”

It’s been about two months since then. Y/N was now six months pregnant and Alexandria went through…a lot.

The wall collapsing

The herd

Carl losing an eye

Maggie’s pregnancy announcement

Losing a lot of Alexandrians

It took about a month to fix the wall and collect themselves, slowly bringing themselves back to a sense of normal.

The morning came slowly, or slower than usual…

Y/N shifted slightly in the bed feeling the discomfort truly grow in her back once she opened her eyes. A soft groan escaped her lips which stirred Daryl awake as he lifted his head to check her face for anything but kept his hand secured on her belly.

“The baby isn’t going to kick every time your hand is there”

“She does. Sometimes”

“She huh? What happened to strong and healthy…that’s all that matters?”

“That’s still fact. Don’t mean I can wish for somethin’ on the side” Daryl whispers as he pressed a kiss to her belly which resulted in a laugh from his wife but also a kick hitting his hand. “That’s my girl”

“Rick caught me up on your supply run just the two of you…promise you’ll be safe?”

“I always do don’t I?”

“Yeah but last time you came home with a knife wound in your shoulder”

“Alright, fair enough” Daryl brought himself to sit up and help his wife do the same as Y/N gently caressed his cheek worried about him. “I promise”

“Good…”

Because I have a weird feeling about today

[haruharuz]

*smacks hands together* alright guys since I started cracking the code to finally getting shit together imma give it to you. It’s not some 60 day fix your life hardcore butthole burner 3000 challenge. It isn’t gonna magically take your fucking depression away.

But listen, listen.

Put floss in a visible place— floss picks work fine. Start flossing before or after you brush your teeth.

Stretch in bed at night before you sleep. Two minutes is better than no minutes— butt up, crack your back, touch your toes or calves or something.

Start doing a “closer” on your room / home every night. Even if you’re exhausted. All you need to do is pick up the dirty clothes and put them in a hamper. Pick up the trash and throw it away. If you have a dishwasher, shove dishes in it and turn it on. If you don’t, do the easiest dishes you can. Wipe the counters down.

Sleepy time tea by celestial seasonings helps the skin because it’s got spearmint and helps anxiety because of the chamomile.

Comfort water bottle, 16 oz or more. Drink up.

Fill your water filter to the TOP every night before you sleep, now you have lots tomorrow and won’t avoid it as much.

Underwater aquarium ambience with fishies is great to watch and relax to.

Read fanfiction as a reward for doing something tough. Write one or use some shit like CAI to help you cope.

Organizing is hard. Get organizing shit from dollar tree and you’re done.

Have a hard time eating veggies? What’s your favorite veggie? Make that the majority of the veggie on your plate and the rest of the veggies aren’t as many. Huzzah.

Dino nuggets + tater tots + carrots is a perfectly fine meal. Eat.

ACCOMMODATE DONT IGNORE. I ignored and pushed neurodivergent things + chronic symptoms away for years. It did nothing. ACCOMMODATE IT.

Structure your week in hard days Vs easy days. Monday is my busy day, I do as much of the annoying cleaning as I possibly can on that day. I have my groceries delivered. I have lots to do. Tuesday is more relaxed but I finish shit on my to do lists. Other days are easier, because I don’t have to spend all damn day cleaning.

Do your fuckin stretching and cardio and whatnot in your pajamas. You don’t even need pants. Literally just do it naked before your shower if you want.

[askjingrandet]

Jins Wisdom 3: Cleaning a Huge Mess.

Hey there everyone, it's another installment of Jin's Wisdom. Now I know what you're all thinking, Jin we've seen/heard about your factions office. Do you really think you're qualified to give cleaning advice? Yes, yes I do.

Now unlike Yves and Chevalier (surprisingly also Nokto) and how they do things I'm not talking about cleaning clean places. If you've got a nice tidy space that takes you less than 15 minutes to be guest ready nah this ain't for you. What I'm talking about is places in a real bad need of cleaning. The places so bad you have no idea where to even start.

Maybe you got injured or sick, maybe your mental health was struggling, maybe you had a baby or maybe your wife/husband left for a few weeks and now they're due back tomorrow and you have one day to do 2 weeks of cleaning, maybe you share an office with your brothers and every so often one of them forces you to clean the whole place because it ‘looks bad’ and is ‘dangerous’. Whatever the situation, this advice is a starting point for those types of cleaning situations.

Before I get into the specifics though, if you're struggling I want you to know it's okay to ask for help, professional or personal, even just some words of encouragement if that would help. If you don't take care of yourself, you can't take care of anything else. That said, let's get into how I do it and hopefully it helps somebody.

Gather up the very basic supplies you'll need. Broom/vacuum, garbage bags, some boxes/baskets. That's it for now we want to get it started, worry about dusting and all that later.

Pick a room/corner (not kitchen that has its own technique), start with an easier one that will go quickly so you can be encouraged by having something cleaned up quick.

Gather up all the dirty dishes you can see in the room and take them to the kitchen. Don't worry if you find more later it's ok, you'd be surprised how often we find plates hidden under stacks of paperwork in the office.

Now that the dishes are out, pick up all the big garbage or anything broken and toss it or recycle it. Don't worry about the chip crumbs or anything like that we're getting those soon.

Next pick up anything big/obvious off the floor that isn't the small trash, so things like toys, clothes, paperwork whatever it is. If it belongs in that room/area set it aside if not stuff it in one of the baskets keeping all of the same category together. I set the baskets on the sofa when Yves makes me clean so I don't have to keep bending down, don't want to hurt my back after all.

Now here is where your floor type matters, if you have carpet you need to do things differently because this is for wood/tile/vinyl/marble. What we do now is sweep everything into one big pile into the center of the area/room. Then we give the pile a look over, are there small objects that aren't trash like toys, gloves, cufflinks etc. If there is dig em out and put them in the proper basket. Once you're sure nothing is left just sweep it into a dust pan and toss.

With the floors done, do the same with any other surface that has stuff on it like desks or bookshelves, not sure why there was a sheath hidden behind some books that one time but…If there's anything like crumbs or something on these surfaces just wipe them onto the floor.

Next we're going to take the vacuum or broom again and go over the floor again, getting up the really fine or stubborn dirt we didn't get earlier along with all the crumbs and stuff we just wiped onto it.

Take those baskets to where whatever is in them belongs. So for example all the clothes go to the laundry area. I'd you want to tackle a second room/area go back up to step one, if not move to the last step.

This is the last step and it's to wash all those dishes you brought into the kitchen earlier, not all the dishes just those we brought in. My admin said this is a lot easier if you have a dishwasher to do it for you if not then we'll put on some good music.

With all of that done you're on your way! I know it's not doing everything like dusting, mopping, windows etc but as I said that's not what I'm going for with this. This is advice on how to do it when it's become so overwhelming it paralyzes you. At least with the very basics done, if you can keep on top of it for a while then you can slowly work up to doing the bigger tasks when you're ready.

Just take things one step at a time and don't overwhelm yourself, especially if you've been really struggling. Remember take care of you first otherwise nothing else is going to get taken care of, not properly anyways.

Miscellaneous Cleaning Tidbits:

Hand wash dishes by starting with the least dirty moving to dirtiest. So cups/glasses, utensils, plates/bowls then pots/pans.

If you don't like strong chemical cleaners, vinegar or lemon juice can be used instead. You can find loads of recipes out there for cleaning pastes and sprays using them.

Don't be afraid to wash your wood floors! Find a good product and follow its directions (my admin uses Murphy's oil) the floors will thank you.

Beat/shake out your rugs every so often, it's a great stress reliever especially if you pretend it's somebody you hate or are angry at.

Got dusty blinds? If they can easily come down, take them down, put them in the bathtub and pour water over them. Gets rid of the dust fast, just make sure to handle them gently, like you would if it was a beautiful woman. If they can't be taken down lay a towel under them and use a spray bottle with a bit of dish soap then rinse with another spray bottle of just water.

Rinse blood out of fabrics while still wet if you can it helps to not stain them.

Toss out or donate toys when your little kids are in school or gone away for a while. This way no fighting over them wanting to keep a toy they hadn't played with in six months just because they saw it again. This one was from my admin.

Don't mix cleaning chemicals!

Put on upbeat music, it will usually help and at the least won't hurt.

Open up your windows for a bit each day to get some fresh air in, weather permitting of course.

[bimaddieshan]

am i bad, or mad, or wise?

NSFW

TW for mentions of domestic violence

--

Life is easier with Patrick out of town.

Ken breathes a sigh of relief when Patrick slides into the Lyft. He stands on the front steps and watches as it drives down the street and turns around the corner. Going, going, gone. Finally. Patrick will be gone for a full week, some hot shot conference in Seattle.

He's pretty sure the conference is a farce. For all that Patrick accuses him of cheating, his own Grindr account sure is active. Each notification's chime is a taunt, a cruel barb that screams you're fucking worthless!

Worthlessness tucks its cruel tendrils into every fiber of his being, every scrap of confidence he'd gained ripped from him as quickly as it came. Most days when Ken looks in the mirror, he doesn't recognize the face staring back at him. His face is pale and drawn, constantly pinched in agony. It makes the dark circles under his eyes stand out. And his eyes?

They're lifeless.

But when he gets out of the shower, he notices a tiny spark in them. For seven days, he can be free. And if Patrick wants to cheat on him, then so be it. So long as the bastard comes back clean, Ken's decided that he no longer cares.

He has Colt.

Maybe it's an emotional affair. Maybe it's a deep friendship toeing a dangerous line. Whatever it is, Ken knows one thing: he feels alive. Colt is his best friend, and he's desperately in love with the other man. They have their inside jokes, stolen stares, touches that linger just a little too long. Ken wants to make him happy, yearns to come home to him every night and watch trash television.

Colt's coming over for dinner tonight. Ken's done waiting.

Tell Colt you're in love with him and start plotting your escape. Easy.

--

"It smells so good in here."

Ken turns and grins at the sound of Colt's voice, and he swears his heart skips a beat. Is this what it's like to actually have a crush? He wouldn't know. His past hookups were meaningless, and his relationship with Patrick...

It's been intense from the start, but Ken's never felt like this with anyone else. Not him, not Ryan, or any of his other guy friends. Just Colt.

Colt holds up a box. "I got dessert."

Ken smirks. "Store bought or did you actually try your hand at baking?"

"And burn down my apartment? No thanks. But hey, I went to an actual bakery this time."

"Oooooh." Ken turns down the heat on the stove and walks over to take a peek. Colt's already opening the box, and Ken licks his lips eagerly as soon as he sees the tiramisu. "Tiramisu, huh? How'd you know - "

"That it's one of your favorites?" Colt puts the box on the counter and smirks. "You've mentioned it once or a few hundred times. And I triple-checked. No cross-contamination. You dying would kind of put a damper on the night."

"How sweet." Ken deadpans. Colt's eyes flicker with amusement, and Ken can't keep the (probably dopey) smile off of his own face. For a moment, he forgets that Colt isn't his partner. That this isn't a date night, even if it feels like one. He envelopes Colt in a hug, and when he pulls away, the other man is staring hungrily at his lips.

Soon. Just wait a little while longer.

--

This is definitely a date night.

They're at the dining room table with veggie pasta, splitting a large bottle of Merlot. Colt's cheeks are flushed, his cheeks just a tad glassy. There's tiramisu waiting for them in the refrigerator. All that's missing are the candles and some music, but even for Ken, that would be pushing it.

Ken drums his fingers on the table.  This is it. If he doesn't do it now, he'll never work up the nerve again. But what if he's been reading everything wrong? What if Colt laughs at him, thinks he's ridiculous, or runs for the hills? Deep breaths, Ken. This is kind of a date and he hasn't left yet. He takes a deep breath. "I wanted to talk to you about something."

Colt stiffens and lowers his glass. He's like Ken; he wears his heart on his sleeve, but the expression on his face is unreadable. His Adam's apple bobs, and bounces his leg so hard that the floor under Ken's feet shakes. "If you want me to leave - "

"I don't want you to go," Ken says quickly. "No. No, no no."  Colt raises an eyebrow as if to say go on. "I like what we have. I really, really like it. I know it's really fucking weird and messy, but...I just want to be with you." The last sentence is a tiny, broken whisper, the first time he's uttered the confession aloud. Colt's expression remains guarded, but a flicker of hope quickly flashes across his face before it disappears. "I don't know how to get the fuck out of here." Ken gestures around the apartment. Patrick technically doesn't live here, but he's weaved his way into every corner of Ken's life. "I don't know how to leave. I'll figure it out. This isn’t just some stupid fling. I want to be with you."

Colt finally turns to face him. He's hesitant, but he slowly reaches out to grab Ken's hand. Ken takes it immediately. Colt's hand is warm, his fingers calloused. It feels right. Natural. Colt drains his glass and slides it back and forth on the table. "Do you really mean that? You like what we have?"

"Yes." Ken scoots forward so that their knees touch. Colt's breath hitches. Ken's heart begins to race. Can he feel the sweat on his palms? Probably, but he's kind enough not to mention it. "I really, really like it."

"So do I." Colt closes the gap between their lips, and Ken immediately deepens the kiss. He doesn't hesitate to thread his fingers through Colt's hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. Colt moans, raking  his hands down Ken’s back, and Ken explores Colt's mouth. He tastes like Merlot and pasta sauce, the pasta sauce Ken made just for him. He catches the faintest whiff of vanilla cologne. Is it the one Ken got him for his birthday? Colt’s lips are warm and soft; Ken doesn't remember the last time he felt so connected to another person. He is warmth, safety, comfort, and Ken loves him. 

He isn’t quite sure when they decide to stand and go back to the kitchen. All he knows is that he’s leaned up against the island, palms gripping the edge for leverage. Colt lightly traces a finger over Ken’s cock, hard and throbbing but trapped. Ken sighs breathlessly and slides his hands under Colt’s shirt, thumbs gently grazing over his hard nipples. He receives a needy whine in response, and Colt’s hands drop to his neck, leaving a trail of kisses before finding Ken’s sweet spot. Ken balls the hem of Colt’s shirt in his fist, and he feels Colt’s smirk on his skin. 

"The second I saw you in that shirt, I wanted to tear it off of you." Colt growls and fondles his balls, and dammit, why are they still clothed? “I haven’t stopped thinking  about how badly I want to bend you over and fuck you against the counter.”

“Jesus Christ,” Ken moans. His voice his desperate and high-pitched even to his own ears, but it only encourages Colt. His fingers dip below his waistband, and Ken shivers. In this moment, he would let Colt do whatever he wanted. He shouldn't. He should push Colt away, tell him that they can't do this; he's in a relationship. But Colt's lips are so soft, hands so gentle; every word that spills from his mouth is laced with adoration. It's been so long since anyone touched him like this.

Patrick broke his promises the first time he laid a hand on him. Fucking another man isn’t the worst thing Ken could do. But…

“You wanna fuck me over the counter? Well, I have a better idea,” Ken says with a devilish grin. 

Colt's eyes darken when Ken guides him to the bedroom. They’re crossing a forbidden line, and Ken’s dick throbs at the image of Colt bending him over and fucking him on the bed he shares with Patrick. His breath hitches, and he fumbles with the waistband of Colt’s jeans. Colt’s hard, and fuck, his cock is perfect. It’s long and thick with a juicy vein up the middle, precum already leaking from the tip. Ken almost drops to his knees, eager to take Colt into his mouth, but Colt hooks a hand under his thighs and hoists him up. 

They fall onto the mattress, and Colt makes quick work of Ken’s jeans. He tosses the garments to the side, pupils wide, eyes drinking in the sight of him. Ken pushes himself up and captures Colt in a languid kiss.

“You have freckles on your nose.” Colt’s voice is nothing more than a wonder-filled whisper. “Fuck. You’re so beautiful.”

It’s been a long time since someone told him that, since anyone stared at him with such reverence. Colt always knows what to do, what to say. Where was he two years ago? “I love you.” Ken swallows. Maybe it’s not the best time for a love confession, but Ken’s always been impulsive. He half expects Colt to laugh, look at him with disgust and leave, but he doesn’t. He cups Ken’s face in his hands and rests his forehead on his.  

“I love you, too.”

Ken stares at him, eyes wide with wonder. He’s been fantasizing of this moment for months, has imagined it in his darkest moments, saw it play out in his dreams every night. It’s better than any fantasy his desperate brain has ever conjured. There’s a desperate yearning to hear the words again and again, but Colt kisses him again, slow and gentle.

For the first time in years, Ken feels special. 

“And you’re sure you want to do this?” Colt asks softly. “Because I - “

“I want to,” Ken says with a firm nod.

Colt relaxes. Ken shivers as Colt slides a finger inside of him, working him open slowly. Ken rocks against his fingers, eyes fluttering shut. It’s a far cry from Patrick putting in just enough effort to make sure he doesn’t bleed. Colt’s fingers are calloused yet soft, rubbing in all the right places and taking note of every curve in his body.

Still, Ken’s needy. He whines and claws at the bedsheets. “C’mon. Stop torturing me, will ya?”

Colt laughs. “I could go slower.You’re beautiful like this, you know. All spread open, and it’s just for me.”

“Just for you.” And it’s true. He hasn’t been like this for Patrick in a very long time. But for Colt? He’d do anything he asked, anytime, anywhere, give Colt every piece of himself.

Colt lines himself up, and eager whimpers escape Ken’s lips. Colt smirks as he pushes himself inside, slow and gentle. Is he doing this to torture Ken, or just because he’s nice? 

Both. Definitely both.

Colt finds a rhythm, and Ken rolls his hips in response. Colt groans and Ken pushes himself onto his elbows, capturing him in a messy kiss. He cups the back of Colt’s head, not breaking eye contact when he eventually pulls away. The other man smirks, and without hesitation, takes Ken’s cock in his hand. He slowly strokes from base to head, smearing the steadily leaking precum around the flushed tip. 

“If you keep that up,” Ken pants, hips bucking off the bed, “I’m gonna - “

“I know.” It occurs to him, then, that it’s exactly what Colt wants. He wants to see Ken fall apart, shatter into pieces under his hand. And how could he not? Colt is so gentle, eager to see him come undone, and he hasn’t come undone in so long.

It’s a far cry from a quick fuck that leaves Ken hard and desperate, from jerking off in the bathroom and praying that Patrick doesn’t wake up. 

Heat builds in his spine. He drinks in the sight in front of him, Colt buried deep inside of him, skin flushed, a sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead. His blue eyes are hazy and unfocused. Ken has never seen anyone so beautiful, not even in Barbie Land. Ken’s thighs begin to shake, and he throws his head back into the pillows.This is what he’s been missing out on. 

Colt’s body looms over him. Ken turns his head, but Colt gently grabs his chin with two fingers. 

“I want to see you,” he says, and Ken is gone. His body shudders and he scrabbles at the air, desperate for something to cling to. Eventually, his hands grab onto Colt’s shoulders, and from somewhere above him, Colt moans, thrusts becoming more erratic, and as Ken comes down from his orgasm, Colt buries his face in his neck. Ken holds him through it, murmuring praise, taking note of the tears dripping into the crook of his neck.

Colt collapses on top of him. He’s dazed, not quite ready to tether to the ground just yet. He rolls over and Ken notices the evidence of his release, ropes of white all over Colt’s chest. He takes the other man’s hand and gives him a fucked-out smile. “Hi.”

Colt snorts. “Hi? That’s all you have to say?”

“Relax. I’ll sing your praises later. Brain isn’t working yet.” Colt laughs quietly, and Ken leans forward to kiss him again, slow and chaste. When he pulls away, he threads his fingers through Colt’s hair. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Colt says quietly. In that moment, Ken pictures the rest of his life with Colt. He sees Colt moving into his apartment, surfboards and bonsai trees making his space feel more alive than it has in years. He imagines his cat Cheddar trying to terrorize Jean Claude, getting annoyed when she doesn’t get a reaction out of him. This could be his and Colt’s bed. He sees evenings in watching trashy television, cooking dinner together, building a life.

He can’t picture himself growing old with anyone else. And now he’s gone and made a tricky situation even worse. He swallows and squeezes Colt’s hand.

“I have no idea how yet, but I’m going to get out of here. I’ll figure something out.”

“I know. I trust you. We can come up with something together.” Colt yawns and sits up, rubbing his eyes. “Worry about it later. We should probably shower.”

The hot water streams down his body, and Colt shampoos his hair, hands digging into his scalp ever so slightly. Ken leans into the touch. He’s never felt safer with anyone else.

He has no clue when or how. 

All he knows is that he needs out. 

[pixel-percy]

☕ Matthew Murdock's favorite barista happens to be his next-door neighbor & is now his girlfriend. They just can't get enough of each other. ☕

Monday | Tuesday | Wednesday | Thursday | Friday | Saturday | Sunday

☕ Word Count: 1.4k ☕ Music Vibes: Seven by Jung Kook (feat. Latto) ☕ Warning(s): Smut (bj), sewing a wound, & mentioned blood ☕ A/N: Some light hurt/comfort because how could I not~ Also, normalizing spitting because not everyone has the capacity to swallow and it's okay if you don't fucking want to. That's that.

Tuesday

Matt sucked a breath through his teeth, a hissing sound prompted by the way the needle you held moved through a particularly tough part of his shoulder.

“Sorry, almost done,” you assured him.

“It’s fine,” he said. “More surprised that I felt it. Pain doesn’t really bother me.”

“So I’ve noticed,” you responded, trying to hide the tinge of worry behind a flirtatious tone. He chuckled, a small thing, and gripped the edge of the bed. Moments of silence passed between the two of you, the ebb and flow of the needle and thread keeping your attention focused.

This wasn’t the first time you’d done this for him in the last month—hell you hadn’t even known how to do it right that time without his directions—but you found your pokes more purposeful. 

Ninja sword was the flavor of the night apparently, cut clean through his suit and hit his shoulder. Seeing him hurt twisted up your insides every time. He knew. In fact, he protested coming to you with his wounds in the beginning but your protests to the contrary were just a bit more convincing. You could trust each other and that was that.

“Your hands are steadier,” he whispered. A smile crept to the corners of your lips, appreciating the praise.

“I forget you can always tell.”

“Tell what?”

“How I’m feeling,” you said. “Even when I’m putting on a brave face.”

Matt breathed out another bubble of laughter, turning his head a bit so you could see his smile. In a way, it was comforting to know that he could tell what you were feeling most, if not all, of the time. Communicating feelings with a partner was always a struggle and, while obviously not perfect, this entire relationship was amongst the easier ones you’d dealt with. Horns and all.

“Alright,” you said, finishing up the stitches. “Done.”

Matt groaned in relief and straightened up his posture, winding his shoulders a little bit to release some of the pressure that had built up. You tucked the materials you’d been using back into the First Aid kit, gathering those with blood to be disposed of, and placed the kit back next to your bed. It was useless to place it anywhere else nowadays.

Your apartment was dark when you crossed the living room and into your open kitchen. The little bit of moonlight you were privy to and the light from your bedroom lit the way toward the trash can where you dumped all of the blood-covered items and such. With a quick scrub of your hands, you grabbed a glass of water for Matt and made your way back to the bedroom.

Matt was still at the edge of the bed when you returned. The top of his briefs peeked out of the top pants, which had been undone for a bit now, and when you approached an endearing smile crossed his lips. Even through your worry and want to care for him, the attraction you felt for this man was winning out again. You approached, stopping just in front of him, and offered the glass to him.

“Thank you,” he said, fingers grazing yours as he obliged and took a long sip. You couldn’t help but watch the way a loose drop trickled down his five o’clock shadow, down his throat, and settled on his collarbone.

“Anytime,” you said, voice soft and fond, hand on the crook of his neck now, playing with the hair at the base. Matt’s hand found the back of your thigh, the roughness of his skin pressing into yours, urging you closer. You obliged and he placed the glass down on the nightstand before his other hand found a parallel position on your other thigh. “Can I do anything else for you, Mister Daredevil?”

He chuckled at the nickname, your playful tone, and his hands slid up until they were settled just under your shorts. You stepped closer to him, knee rubbing semi-unintentionally against his bulge—finding him growing harder and harder by the second. Seemed he was feeling the same as you. He placed his chin at the top of your stomach, head angled upwards, and you couldn’t help but give his cheek an affectionate scratch.

“I think I just need to relax,” he muttered. Your hand moved from his cheek and up through his hair, tugging it ever so slightly. You were rewarded with a content little moan that you felt through your old tee shirt against your stomach where his neck had settled.

“I can help with that,” you assured.

“Can you?” he asked, intrigue prominent in his words. “You don’t have to.” You felt the sincerity in that statement, you knew it to be true, but it just made you want to do it more. Your head bent down so that your lips hovered just above his, skin touching for the briefest of seconds.

“But I want to,” you breathed and closed the space between you. It was sensual and deep. This time you both released a groan, Matt’s fingers digging even rougher into your thighs. You pulled away, a little reluctantly, and noticed how he chased after your lips, eyes fluttering open.

You lowered yourself until his hands moved to his knees and you were on yours. One of Matt’s eyebrows raised but he didn’t oppose.

“So this is what you meant,” he said softly.

“What’d you think I meant?”

“I dunno, maybe a bath?” he teased.

“Maybe after,” you said with a smile. “Now, relax.”

And he did just that. Matt leaned back, hands on the sheets behind him, and allowed you access to him. You grabbed the waistband of his pants, tactical material rigid as you tugged it down with his briefs, lifting himself a bit like you had the day prior. Before long he was free, erection before your eyes and waiting for the attention you were promising.

You maneuvered yourself to the perfect place between his legs, elbows resting on his muscular thighs, and took him in your hands. Matt’s breath hitched for a moment, invested in every movement you made.

You leaned forward, gathering the saliva building in your mouth and letting it fall onto the tip. You placed both hands around his shaft to work the liquid around it, his whimpers getting caught in his throat. When you were satisfied, you gently wrapped your lips around his tip, tongue teasing the underside.

Matt moaned—a drawn-out sound that spurned you on. He was a vocal lover, one of your favorite things about him, and it always made you feel confident in the way you took care of him. Despite the frustrations of being the partner of a part-time vigilante, watching him come undone by your tongue felt good —proud to stoke the fire of Hell’s Kitchen’s personal devil in your mouth. Revitalized.

You found your rhythm, a steady motion of your hands, mouth, tongue, breaths… and Matt was coming undone. His hand found your head but didn’t push, using it as an anchor to the world if you had to guess, fingers intertwined with your hair. Moans rolled off his tongue and settled in the air of your apartment. It wasn’t the loudest either of you had been but it wasn’t the quietest either.

“Louder,” you managed before sliding your mouth over the head of his cock again. He huffed, a sound he probably meant as a laugh, that transformed into a loud drawn-out moan that cascaded over your body. It made you shiver. He was getting close.

“Angel,” he rasped, pet name tumbling off his tongue.

“Mmhmm,” you answered, mouth not leaving him. Your tongue swirled and worked its way around the tip, shaft, and underside. There was a small stutter from him, an indication, and you readied yourself.

The tension in Matt’s body released all at once, coating your tongue and filling up your mouth. He fell back onto the bed when you released him, breaths heavy and staggered. You got to your feet, mouth full, and made your way to the bathroom.

You spat the viscous liquid into the running water of the sink, took a few swigs from the tap to rinse, and grabbed a nearby towel. The water streamed onto the material, warm, and you wrung it out a little before exiting.

“Well…” he said. “I’m much more relaxed now.” You chuckled and approached him with the towel. He gently took it from you.

“Good,” you said and laid down next to him. A few moments passed, quiet yet intimate, your fingers running along the bare skin of his arm just for some contact. You turned your head to him and examined his features, eyes closed, small beads of sweat on his forehead.

“So,” he whispered, head tilting toward you. “That bath still on the table for us?”

[universallyrunawaypuppy]

Piece of glass

(you can also find my stories on Wattpad)

(WARNING: NSWF, MINORS ARE NOT WELCOME)

-pet names, praising, relationship Konig, softDom Konig- 

1,6K words

It was the first 3 days Konig spent with you since he arrived from his mission; it had been a difficult mission so he would be able to stay at home more than usual.  You had gone 3 months without seeing him and being still in your honeymoon phase, Konig missed no opportunity to show you how much he missed you. 

The first two days you were not able to get out of bed, on the third day, however, you had decided to take a "break" even though you were not sure you could hold out. It was late afternoon, you wanted to have a movie night, having always been a lover of vintage and movies you couldn't help but watch it on DVD; however, before the movie started, you decided to make something to eat and while Konig was sitting on the couch waiting for you under the covers, you were popping popcorn in the microwave, in the meantime you came up with an idea that would lead to a consequence you wouldn't mind: red wine. 

The two of you were of the opinion that opening a bottle of red wine didn't require a special occasion or being fancy, in fact as you were trying to reach for the glasses on tiptoe, your shorts were slipping down showing the elastic of your bow-tied panties, and certainly, the tank top you were wearing didn't help to buy you any better. With your hand outstretched upward and on tiptoe you managed to touch the edge of the glass and tried to bring your fingertips closer to the rim for an easier grip, but just as you were about to reach for it konig came into the kitchen "Hey Honey, all-" he didn't have time to finish the sentence that you gasped in fright and the crystal glass slipped to the floor breaking into a thousand pieces, and as icing on the cake the microwave began to beep making you gasp even more.

Konig immediately came to your rescue "bunny, are you hurt? you are barefoot, let me give you a hand" he said taking you by the hips without any effort and moving you to the part of the floor without glasses "love you shouldn't go around without slippers, you could really hurt yourself" he said holding you by the forearms, although you were not listening to him at that moment busy thinking about his big hands that were holding you up. You were getting wet again and he wasn't doing anything provocative. When he went to retrieve a broom you bent down on your knees and began picking up the larger pieces of glass with your bare hands. On the way back konig found you with your hand full of crystal pieces and scolded you "you must listen to me when I speak, I say this for your own good baby, I don't want you to get hurt." He said as he gently removed the crystal pieces from your palm and threw them in the trash. "get up" he said in his usual cold tone. he was not angry, just annoyed that you were being stubborn. As he swept away all the shards of glass you stood still behind him, hands behind your back, like a good girl, watching his every move. When he finished cleaning up, he went to put the broom away but you stood on all fours with your cheek on the floor to see if any more little shards had gone under the oven, konig came back and found you in that position, with your shorts peeking out of your panties from underneath and your tank top pulled up, you didn't notice his return, after all, he was a man used to being quiet despite his stature.

When he found you in that position he groaned and leaned down to grab you by the hips and lift you off the ground, he put you on his shoulder as if nothing was wrong and dragged you to the living room. he threw you on the couch, gently, and said still standing at the side of the couch "okay, you've been tempting me all day and now I'm tired, so now you take it and shut up. " he said in a lower voice than usual, with a tone full of lust and eagerness, his eyes showed the same. 

He got on top of you but without lying down, ran his big fingers over your belly and then went over it again from under your tank top. Slipping down he pushed the elastic of your yellow shorts with him, revealing your white panties with the pink bow; They were his favorite, because they made you look so pure, so untouchable...so virgin, even though you were anything but and he could confirm that. As soon as he saw your little panties, now wet, he grunted again and closed his eyes, as if trying to hold himself back from something. "lkleiner Engel what are you doing to me" he said on your lips just before kissing you, in that state konig couldn't close his eyes, he wanted to watch every little aspect, every little movement you made and take credit for it. The kisses became more passionate and wet and were dragged from your lips to your jaw where they then went to your neck. You were a mess, your hair already tousled, your turgid nipples trying to stand out from your tank top, your lips swollen and red as your hands caressed his still-covered chest. He let out involuntary moans now and then, and you began to feel a presence on his bare thigh. 

"Kon...ah...I want...I want you please" you moaned in a whisper, you weren't even sure if he would hear but he, attentive to your every movement, heard just fine and smiled "patience bunny, you have to be patient" he wanted to spite you, but you in that state barely knew your name; then a thought crossed your mind, how did he with just kisses make you so needy, like a little whore, shame took over and he noticed, it wasn't the first time it happened to you. "hey, baby, take it easy, remember to breathe, I'm staying here, I'm not moving" he said as if he had read your thoughts, you relaxed your muscles and let him. 

Your thighs and opened automatically when he came to kiss your belly button. the thing that made you lose your mind more than anything was how he kept his gaze on you while you struggled to even breathe.

As soon as konig arrived on the fabric covering your core he carefully observed the wet spot and put his tongue on it, applying a tiny bit of pressure to your center and causing you to close your eyes. but just then konig said "eyes on me baby" which more than a warning at that moment felt like a threat.; He wasted no time in gently sliding your panties down and opening your legs with his hands, which as you tried to close he seemed to maintain without any trouble. 

His hungry eyes watched your dripping center and he blew on it, the sensation sent shivers all over your body causing you to push your head back on the pillow; He slipped his tongue through your folds going everywhere except your clitoris, to your annoyance, you felt his hot, hungry tongue in places you didn't know you had, but all that wasn't enough, you wanted more, you wanted him. "Konig, I want you...n-no" you tried to explain but he interrupted you "you've been naughty today, I wonder if you have permission to come", you closed your eyes instantly, squeezing them tight, you needed him more than anything in that moment; "please...I-I'll be a good girl, I promise" you said, trying to lift your head to look at him. 

While you were talking, he stopped to observe you from below, smiling at your behavior and observing your every slightest movement, taking credit for it; then he sank into your folds continuing to grope your clit, lightly touching it with his tongue and causing you to moan a little, that verse sent Konig out of his mind and he started sucking your clit right away, strong and hungry. You let out strangled sounds as you gripped the couch with your hands, your legs begged to be closed but Konig had no intention of doing so, he ate you as if you were his last meal, hungrier than ever. He too, while devouring you, let out small roars. Soon you felt butterflies in your stomach, you arched your back and konig wasted no time placing a hand on your belly as he continued his meal, even though he was focused on your center, he noticed all your movements. 

Your eyes closed as you felt something approaching your center, your legs began to tremble and every movement he made seemed much more amplified "I-I'm about to c" you didn't have time to finish the sentence before you released all your pleasures on his mouth, pleasures that he obviously didn't waste but enjoyed with hunger. 

After a while you calmed down, your back rested on the sofa and your legs stopped shaking, the spasms decreased and your breathing became regular again. You finally saw your boyfriend's face, with his lips swollen, red and wet. He stood up as he smiled at you and said "my turn, engel"

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Hi! Sorry to interrupt your reading, this is the first one shot that I've ever wrote, tell me what you think, I'll appreciate it very much. Be, also, brutally honest but without being vulgar or stuff. Thanks, little ribbons, have a great day!

❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅

[444princesa]

how to get your room organized and keep it organized

i understand organizing can be intimidating so i wanted to write a little guide to help.

clean your area

clean off surfaces, make your bed, pick up anything on the floor, throw away trash, etc. you'll probably do this again but this pre clean will help the post clean alot easier

if you need to wash your clothes or sheets, do that while you clean, gather everything you need to clean as well.

declutter / organize

start by sections of your room

closet

if you start with your closet, take all your clothes out and have three sections. keep, maybe and donate. organize your clothes by type and color, so short sleeve by color, long sleeve by color. put away any summer or out of season clothes you still have out and while you are at it, sort out your out of season clothes as well. organize your closet with bins, closet organizers and shoe racks if needed. for the maybe pile, hang them in the front of your closet so its the first thing you see when you pick an outfit, try to wear them the next time you get ready and if you dont feel confident in it, dont feel comfortable or you want to wear another outfit then its time to let it go. do the same for your dressers as well.

desk/vanity

declutter each drawer one by one. start with one drawer/ shelf and once you declutter and organize that drawer/shelf, move on to the next.

under bed

if you can keep under your bed space clear do that but if not, get some containers and organize whatever you need to put under there.

personally, i like to be a minimalist in my parts of my life. like my desk, i dont like having so much stationary. i dont use so much stationary for school and i have my essentials so i keep that. i dont buy more stationary unless i need to restock. for my wardrobe, im currently building my signature look but i also dont like to have an overstock of the same thing unless i know i will wear it and its my favorite thing. i keep surfaces as clear as i can but also having cute minimal decor.

keeping clean and organized

have a cleaning schedule you stick to, have a set day you wash and deep clean. tidy 5 minutes everyday. put away things that arent in their place, pick up whatever is on the floor, make your bed, fold and put away clothes as soon as its out the dryer. if you are watching a show or video and a commercial comes on, use it to clean. always take any dishes or trash when you go out of your room. wipe down surfaces every few days. doing these small up keeps will make deep cleaning easier.

[braveclementine]

Chapter 29

Warnings: Angst, potentially controversial/sensitive topics

Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. However, I do own my OC: Elizabeth Y/L/N (created so you don't get Y/N and Y/S/N consistently mixed up. I do not condone any copying of this.

IT WAS THE DELICIOUS SMELL OF BACON wafting through the house that woke you up. You blinked your eyes open and found that you were comfortably trapped underneath Thor's hulking body. His warmth radiated through you as the rest of the farmhouse was a bit cold. Frost licked at the windows and you wondered if it had snowed last night.

You poked Thor until he woke up and rolled off of you, then slipped out of bed to get dressed in something warm and comfortable. You stuck to a sweatshirt and some sweatpants, stuffing your feet in furry Uggs and headed down the stairs.

The table had been set with platters of eggs, bacon, sausage links, fresh fruits, pancakes, and hash browns, but the cook was no where in sight. Several of the Avengers had settled down around the table, helping themselves.

"Morning." You said as cheerfully as you could manage for eight forty-five in the morning.

"Morning." The others replied with various degrees of wakefulness.

As you passed Clint, you paused to pull hay out of his hair and toss it in the trash. He must've gone up to the hayloft at some point. You wondered when that had been.

"Who made breakfast?" You asked curiously as you helped yourself to the pancakes and bacon.

Steve shrugged, "It was ready when I got down here and I was the first down here."

"Must've been Elizabeth, if I had to guess." Rhodey replied. "It tastes the same way she makes it. I can taste the butter in the eggs."

You nodded. Elizabeth had come up with this trick where if you got the butter to boil in the pan when you scrambled the eggs, then the eggs would cook through so fast that they didn't have time to stick to the pans and the pans would be easier to clean. The result ended in the eggs being extremely fluffy, but also with a heavy taste of butter. It was a surprisingly good combination.

"Did she eat?" You asked and then realized none of them would probably know.

"No idea." Rhodey replied.

You nodded, looking out the window but you couldn't see anyone out on the farm. It still looked cold out, the sun behind the gray clouds and the windows were still foggy. This October weather was going to be a cold one.

You sat down next to Steve who was being somewhat quiet this morning.

As you neared finishing breakfast, Elizabeth finally stepped into the house. She was wearing her winter boots instead of cowboy boots, and had put on a thick hoodie and fingerless gloves. A gray hat with a pink pom pom on the end had been pulled down over her ears.

"Morning." She said easily as she headed past everyone to the kitchen.

"Aren't you freezing?" You asked after her in worry. "You'll catch frostbite."

Elizabeth grinned at you. "I don't feel cold anymore, remember?"

Damn, well that had to be nice.

"I should check that out later though." Tony added, a frown on his face and he reached out to take her hand. "Your hands are freezing. Maybe you can't feel the cold, but I'm worried your body still does."

Elizabeth smiled at him. "You can run your tests later. I've still got lots of morning chores to do and I've left Hogun to fend for himself with the chickens."

And then she was gone once more, slipping out the backdoor so that you could barely feel the cold wind come in for a split second.

"I wonder if the lake froze over." Natasha commented, looking at you. "Do you ever ice skate on it?"

"Every winter." You said, a smile coming on your face as you thought about all the past winters. "But it usually doesn't freeze over till mid- November."

"Ah, talking about the lake?" Your father limped into the breakfast room. His cheeks were tinged red and pink, so was his nose, a sure sign that he'd been outside as well. Not to mention the hardware boots on his feet and the red and black flannel jacket he was wearing. "I drove the truck across early this morning. You're good to skate on it."

"You drove. . . the truck across?" Wanda asked curiously.

"That's how we do it here." You grinned. "There's a larger lake in the middle of town. The firefighters drive their truck across to see if it'll hold the weight. If it can cross, then you're good to go."

"I believe that is highly dangerous." Vision replied.

"That's how we do it." Your father shrugged, sinking into his chair with a wince. You were very good at ignoring his injury, because that was how he wanted it. He didn't want attention on it.

"They used to do something similar in our town." Sam said. "In the winter, the lake would freeze over and they'd send the firetrucks out. Course, they got rid of that eventually, but I know they did it till I was at least ten."

"So, Y/N, I don't suppose you have any superpowers that you want to tell me about?" Your father asked you bluntly.

You nearly choked on your bacon. "W-What?"

"Elizabeth and I talked. I just wanted to make sure you were okay." Your father replied, staring at you.

"Yeah, no, I'm fine." You replied, blushing. Your dad was a great man, but something he didn't always realize that not every conversation had to be shared in public. There were some things that needed to be kept private. But with him growing up in a small gossip town, that probably didn't seem important anymore. "What'd she tell you?"

Your father suddenly straightened up in his chair. "Well, nothing much really. Just that she was at fault for underestimating the city. Said she had gone for a walk and turned her back for to long and got nabbed. Said that there was this crazy organization that just wanted to test superpowers on her and then sent her back."

You blinked. Either he was editing, or Elizabeth really hadn't told him the full story. But why? Why had she left out the club, the fact that she'd run out because she was having a panic attack from the claustrophobia, that it wasn't her fault at all, that they'd taken her because of Steve?

Your father sighed, "But I'm guessing she didn't tell me the full story judging by your faces."

You looked around and saw that the others looked just as shocked or confused as you. "Well, she might've left a couple of details out. It wasn't her fault though."

"It wasn't her fault at all." Tony replied sternly. "If anything it was ours. We dropped our guard in public after dark and that was something we should never have done. And I admit I didn't keep a good eye on her."

Your father nodded, "Well, I can respect a man that owns up to his actions. I believe that you are no longer negligent towards her?"

"No, I am not." Tony replied firmly. "She gave me a second chance and I love her as much as I love Y/N."

You blushed and your father nodded. "Good. Now then, let's eat."

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

ELIZABETH HAD TAKEN MOST OF THE others on a tour of the farm. Steve and Bucky had gone into town with your mother to help her with some shopping stuff. You and Loki were the only ones not with anyone else.

You weren't entirely sure how it had ended up being you and Loki. The two of you were curled up together in the house, in the basement. It was colder down there, but private and he'd grabbed a thick quilt to wrap around you.

You were falling asleep in his lap when he brought up the conversation, "Did you know about Elizabeth. . . when she was in your mothers womb?"

"What do you mean?" You asked sleepily. You'd almost fallen asleep in his lap when he'd spoke. "Like did I know I was getting a sister?"

"No." Loki said and paused. You blinked your eyes open to see that he looked troubled.

"Oh, is this another conversation like Thor's where I'm supposed to try and convince my mom not to get an abortion?" You grumbled.

Loki hesitated and said, "No, not really. Thor did talk to me, but I wonder sometimes. . . No, I was wondering if you knew that your mother almost aborted Elizabeth."

You sat up straight, looking at him. "What?! How do you know that?"

"Elizabeth told me last night when I went to comfort her." Loki admitted, playing with the edge of the quilt. "And from the sounds of it, she told Clint last night as well."

Clint?

"And Steve overheard." Loki sighed.

You wondered if Thor had known. If that was why he'd brought up the idea of Elizabeth killing herself and how you'd feel. You shoved those thoughts away.

"But she decided not to kil- to get rid of Elizabeth." You replied.

"Because your father finally won the argument." Loki sighed. "I wonder. . . what do you think you're life would've been like without her?"

You thought about it. Or at least, you tried. You couldn't really remember a time when Elizabeth wasn't there. But there were faint memories of when she wasn't there. Where your parents actually looked like they loved each other, where all three of you were content and happy. You could remember events when Elizabeth had stayed home from stuff, from sickness usually or homework or a chore on the farm when she got old enough to do them. The three of you were always so. . . happy.

You felt tears brim your eyes at the horrible confession inside your heart and you looked up through your lashes at Loki, "We would've been happier."

"Would you?" Loki mused, hugging you closer to wipe your tears away. "I don't think you would have. Maybe as a family Y/N. I can't deny that, I've seen the proof and both you and Elizabeth have admitted it. Your family would've been happier. But what about you? If there was no Elizabeth to fill in for all of the chores, to take care of the farm. Don't you see?"

Loki's voice was soft and persuasive, occasionally kissing your tears away. "Don't you see Y/N? Elizabeth's birth freed you. You have the life that you wanted because Elizabeth was born to take your place on the farm."

You knew it was true. You hated the farm, you hated chores, you hated the work and effort that had to go into it. And Elizabeth truly had been born to fill in that spot.

"Now what if," Loki whispered softly in your ear as he pulled you into a hug. "what if your brother freed her?"

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

DINNER WAS SO TENSE THAT NIGHT IT could've been cut with a butter knife. The conversation was attempted to be kept up in an easy flow and for the most part, it seemed normal. Your father was extremely relaxed, though Elizabeth seemed a little out of it. Your mother had arranged the table and she'd found herself between Steve and Sam. You could tell she was trying to make an effort with Steve, but finally gave up and gave all her attention to Sam.

You had really never gotten an answer from the Captain about why exactly he was avoiding her. But you had long given up in trying to get an answer out of him and Bucky.

"I have something to tell everyone here." Your father said.

You tensed immediately, shooting your dad an exasperated look and he smiled. "You can all relax, it's good."

You didn't relax.

"I understand the customs that are normally supposed to take place, however, I feel my second daughter has gone long enough in waiting. Hogun came to me today and I've granted them the permission to marry here on Earth. Along with Masters Loki, Sam, and Tony. Those with full colour tattoos."

Elizabeth's face was one of shock, along with Steve and Sam. Tony just looked superior.

Your mother opened her mouth and you quickly said. "Congratulations, I'm really happy for you Elizabeth. You're going to have a beautiful wedding."

Your mother spun in surprise to look at you and Elizabeth stared at you with wide eyes like she didn't even know you. You were just slightly hurt, but also knew the last time she'd suggested getting married before you, you'd freaked and she'd frozen a coffee table.

"Thanks." Elizabeth said, blushing, staring down at the table. Your mother pursed her lips together.

"When will the wedding be?" Natasha asked.

"December 15th." Hogun said with a smile.

"Ah a winter wedding." You teased, wondering why the idea of your little sister getting married before you had ever been such a big deal. "Good luck with that little sis."

Your mother politely excused herself from the table and left the room. Your father was quick to follow and the rest of you stayed in conversation, mostly talking about wedding ideas.

Elizabeth excused herself after a moment and out of curiosity, you followed after a minute or two.

You wandered out of the kitchen and found her sitting at the bottom of the steps. The chatter in the kitchen had covered up your parents yelling at each other upstairs, the door closed. Your mother was shouting at your father for not waiting until you got married like you were supposed to.

"-WILL SOCIETY THINK OF US? OF OUR DAUGHTERS! THEY'RE SOULMATED TO TONY STARK FOR CRYING OUT LOUD! HOW CAN YOU POSSIBLY THINK OUR SECOND DAUGHTER CAN GET MARRIED FIRST! SHE'S SECOND FOR A REASON!"

"THE POLITE SOCIETY HAS NEVER DONE A DAMN THING FOR US! WHY SHOULD I DEPRIVE ELIZABETH OF WHAT SHE NEEDS. DO YOU UNDERSTAND THAT? SHE NEEDS THIS Y/M/N! SHE'S ALREADY BEEN REJECTED BY TWO OF HER SOULMATES. SHE NEEDS THE OTHERS RALLYING AROUND HER, SHE NEEDS TO FEEL THEIR LOVE."

Elizabeth looked up at you from the stairs. "Come to join the party?"

"Why didn't you tell me?" You asked.

"I didn't know Hogun had gone to dad." Elizabeth shrugged, "I had no idea he'd asked for me to marry him on Earth again."

"No. Not that. Why did you never tell me mom wanted. . . you know."

"Loki told you?" She guessed.

You stayed silent.

Elizabeth looked away. "Because I never wanted you to realize how much better you would've been off without me. I never wanted you to resent me like mom did. Because I loved you to much to let you realize you would've been happier without me."

You pulled her into a hug. A real one, one the two of you hadn't done for a long, long time. "My life would never have been better without you Elizabeth. And no," you gave a shaky laugh, "Not just because you do all the chores for me."

Elizabeth let out a shaky laugh too, a sob in her throat. She held onto you tightly and you let your own tears fall. "I love you Elizabeth. You're my little sister. And I'm sorry for all of your pain."

"Be my maid of honor?"

"Of course."

⬅️➡️

[appalamutte]

Does Skyler have the "conversation" with E?

Okay, y'all. This is it. I've sat on it over the last few days, and, well, I can't see how this relationship with E - platonic, romantic, whatever we are or end up - can healthily continue without having a discussion on what it is I'm feeling for him.

Now this scares the ever living shit out of me. But courage is found through experience and love is all about communication and being vulnerable and, really, I think it's unfair to the both of us to not be open and honest with him.

So, to make this informed, I'm going to put a list of things E has done that I think does show interest, and then a list of things E has done that I think doesn't show interest. This is a somewhat long post because I'm also using it as my own sounding board to look back on, so I do apologize for that. Also, I like just spilling my guts every opportunity I can get.

Therefore, as of December 27th, 2024:

Things E has done that I (and others) believe show some sort of interest:

Openly been flirty with me from the get-go, including being flirty with me in group settings or around others. Other people have noticed this flirting.

Holds this sort of eye contact with me that.....doesn't feel completely like eye contact with a friend. It's charged, lingering, magnetic if you will. I've never experienced it before, and it's one of those things that, even if no one else believes it, I can feel it in my gut, wholeheartedly, that it's different with him. One other person has commented that they sort of see it too - when I talk, he apparently looks at me with such focus that it's almost like there's a "sparkle" in his eye or something.

Has openly "checked me out" at least once. Like, eyes moving across my whole body and lingering.......down below. (I was wearing admittedly tight running shorts).

The one time he came to pick me up for an event, he parked his car. Got out of his car. Walked to my front door. Rang the doorbell. Waited on my front porch for me to come out. Greeted me. Then we walked back to his car. (I've never personally been picked up for a date before, but I swear, this felt like that).

....Appreciated? My new hairstyle in a very open way. Where I went from super pinpoint straight hair to a curled perm. As in, when he first saw it: he was talking to someone else, someone who was standing right in front of him; I walked in and he immediately looked at me; he never looked away, his eyes followed me across the room until I stopped off to the side; meanwhile, this person never stopped talking to him and he almost, like....well, not ignored them, but I definitely had his attention.

Things E has done that I (and others) am not sure how to read:

He's become very chivalrous with me, especially as of late. Holds doors open for me, cleans up my trash/tray when we go out to eat, holds my purse when I use the restroom. He's ex-military so it could fully just be a respect thing he's learned, but I've never seen him personally clean other people's trash. He's cleaned trash after group lunches, but never one-on-one, and he's never held anyone else's purse either - though I don't think I've seen him be given the opportunity to besides with me.

He sent me a post on Instagram a few weeks ago that read, "I don't flirt, I just say every thought I have and hope for the best." I didn't think much of it at all until I was going through our DMs a few nights ago, and every friend I've asked says that's not something a straight guy sends his platonic guy friend.

Once, it came up in conversation about the differences between dating men and dating women. He said that he would think it'd be easier to date men. I joked "straight men, maybe." He laughed and said "yeah, maybe. I've never dated a guy before so I don't know." His reasoning is that he thinks it's easier to understand men than women, which could totally just be a straight guy thing, but all my friends say that sounds like he's at least questioning. I want to say he also asked "is it really that different?" or something, but I can't remember.

We hang out. A ton. Enough that my best friend joked that I see E more than she sees her long-term boyfriend. She was definitely exaggerating, but before the holidays, I definitely saw him more than any other friend.

He's only ever been flirty in that teasing sort of manner. No flirty comments about, like, getting into the bedroom or anything physical/sexual. No flirty compliments. No flirty touches either, really, but I'm starting to think he's not a touchy person in general. I sure as hell am not lol.

The last time we got food together, I definitely caught his eyes dropping to my lips, but I was also bringing my cup to my mouth to take a drink. I don't know if maybe the movement just caught his attention or what. I've never noticed him looking at my lips before, but I've also never looked for it either.

Things E has done that don't show interest:

When we worked together, he asked if two separate women were seeing anybody. The first time, I wasn't out to him yet so he didn't know I was gay. The second time was during the phase where I was open with him about being active on dating apps - this was also during a time when it felt like he was pulled back from me a bit. The spark was gone between us during this time, though I feel it's started to come back recently.

He joked that, since he's new to the area, he wanted me to be his "wingman" to help find him a girlfriend. Again, this was before he knew I was gay, and it hasn't come up in a while.

Overall, he has never explicitly said he's into guys. Though I've never outright asked him.

I don't hear from him much when we're not together in-person. When we worked together, this wasn't an issue - we saw each other daily at work. It also wasn't a super big issue when he first left our office. It's really just been an issue the last week or so, but it's also been a holiday week so I'm giving him the benefit of the doubt right now. I don't think he's also a big texter - rarely do we have a full-blown back-and-forth conversation through text, and unless I'm asking him a question, often times the convo ends with him leaving me on read. Like, the only communication we've had with each other for five days now has just been sending stuff on social media (this is not including the Merry Christmas texts since we both celebrate). It might be the longest we've gone without really, actually talking.

The biggest, most glaring issue is that I don't know if he's also into guys. But if so many other people see something between us, that has to mean something, right? If others have noticed his flirting, the looks he gives me, the way he's always around me, that has to mean something. And like I said, it just.....feels different with him then it ever has with any other guy friends I've had. And the last time we saw each other, something shifted, I think. I felt like it did - the way he looked at me felt more, I don't know, warm? Soft? Intense in a good way?

Maybe he's a naturally flirty, naturally inviting person. Maybe I'm delusional and psychotic and am losing my mind over nothing. Maybe everyone else who agrees that they see something is just telling me what I want to hear and isn't being honest.

But, anyway, I need my internet friends and family to help me decide:

Just as a note, if I do decide to have the conversation, I don't know how soon it will be. I'll honest to god need to take a shot beforehand just to muster up the courage lol.

[nhlhoser]

On The Rocks - 33

4 years later I post !

Master list Chapter 32

(Author note - read if you will it's been ages since I've updated - ZERP EDITTING I NEED THIS OUT OF MY HEAD)

Read @ 2:05 am

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2:30 am illuminates my room in blue from my alarm clock as I toss my dry phone on my bed and try to cool my annoyance. I'm not exactly pacing my room but I am definitely moving around it quite a bit as I try to busy myself with the task of tidying.

Tossing clothes into the hamper with the built up frustration. The need to clean my room growing as the state of my room registers for my brain -- depression pit. As the need to sleep doesn't appear to be a concept my brain can understand, might as well get this tidied.

Clearing out all the bits and pieces of medical supply's out from around my bed is cathartic. A small step to being better and moving on from this shit once again. My earlier 'conversation' with my dad tries to pass through my conscience but is blocked by the need to clean my room. Every section cleared is a small ounce of control of my life returned to me.

The majority of my room now clear is a great breath of fresh air. Flicking the light on in my closest to start in there next; just some clothes on the floor and shoes scatter. A visual of the lack of time I've give myself to keep my shit together. Tossing the clean or dirty clothes into the hamper not carrying to check and rather just re-wash something than deal with it.

A bundle of dark blue fabric catches my eyes as I arrange my shoes on the rack. It's tucked in a odd place and must of been there for a bit as I have definitely haven't been down to this leaving in a while. Grasping it in my hands and unraveling it.

It's the shirt that I bought myself after that person spilt beer on me at the leaf game. It must of fallen out of my hamper and been kicked aside. Flipping it around and see the back for the first time; 'MATTHEWS' is a startling visual. I thought I had bought a blank one but I also was rushed. The first thought it to toss it in the trash but that's just being dramatic.

The fabric is soft in my hands as I place it in the hamper with more care than any article of clothing I've tossed in so far. The soft spot for Auston always finds its way. Moving on to the other loose pieces of clothes through my closet doesn't take long and I'm left with a mostly full basket and finally a urge to lay down.

Stepping out of the closet (The urge to make a joke here is strong - KATIE) and standing at the foot of my bed - my unmade and could use a sheet change bed - drums up a feeling of dread. My room is so close to be clean but the sheets need to be changed.

I can't sleep in my bed and the couch feels like admitting defeat (to whom I'm not sure of). Glancing at the clock it shines back brightly with '4 am'....yikes. No time like the present to start the first half of the task to make my bed.

Stripping the my bed of all the bed is a better feeling then I was prepared for and made it easier to start the trek to silently trek to the laundry room and dump it in the wash. Then I can admit my defeat to the couch.

The stairs are a breeze with one small hiccup with loosing some pillow cases to the wind (yeah i am speed). Recollecting the cases, I make it down and beeline straight into the laundry room and dumping the fabric right into the washer. The damn 'Matthews' flashes past as it falls in with the assorted fabrics.

Syds "Either direction you go it's the right one" and Steph's "be kind to yourself" are thoughts that bounce off each other and the other offending things taking over my brain. I fish the dark blue shirt from the washer- ending its journey to being clean with the rest of the load. I stare at it like it's going to give me answers to the question I haven't thought of yet.

I go to cast it back in but the thought of it leaving my hands feeling symbolic to some thing bigger than itself. I'm definitely putting too much control in a shirt. A pull in my stomach prompts me to pull the shirt closer to my body as different paths race in my mind.

My sweet lovely Nonna who instilled a majority if not all of my beliefs in life. Who gets me. She doesn't push. She listens. She doesn't judge. She's more logical than emotional. Going to her would be going to comfy, peace , and easy.

Easy...

Auston a boy- a man. A hockey player. A good and very popular hockey player..and man. He's emotional, more than he may be even aware of. He's moody. He's unpredictable. I work his team!

I exhale through my nose and finally toss the shirt back in and mindlessly finish loading and starting washer. Pouring an unmeasured amount of detergent directly in the to basin and gently closing the lid.

My Brain mulls over the beautiful scenes of the last time I was living with my nonna. The healing I had to do and the healing I need to do again.

Again...

Trauma is a fickle thing. It's such an unsteadying experience, to live life going forward to suddenly going backwards.

Am I going backwards though?

I take stock of my self staring into the glass lid of my washer as the basin turns and the sound of the wash rushing in soothes over my ears. My body aches with tension from frustration and general recovery. This all feels dramatic. My appendix nearly or did burst? I'm not even clear on that. My throat is buzzes with the memory of screaming at my dad. A small sadness folds over my heart. He just wants to help.

I'm not the broken teenage he sent off last time.

I'm not broken and I've grown.

The smalls positive thought helps pull me from the trap of thoughts and help guide me to leave the laundry room. Carefully navigating my dark home and avoiding the tripping hazards somewhat successfully.

Seeking my Cocoon of blankets and false protection on the couch once again. The length of the day weighs my eyelids as i start to settle into the couch. Sleepy yet not ready to sleep.

The unanswered and unacknowledged text nags me again just as I fully set into position.

This isn't being kind to myself.

I have a perfectly good bed upstairs that I just cleaned and just needs new sheets. I rolled myself carefully off the couch- taking the blanket with me as they remain wrapped around me. I silently haul my goofy looking self up the stairs and back to my room. The sight much more pleasant now that it's more clean.

Foregoing the new sheets I just crawl on to the mattress and into the pillows as in - fuzzy blanket cocoon. Suddenly the most tired and ready for sleep I have been in a while. So many thoughts that stay unfinished finally dissipate enough for my mind to let rest be an option.

Just as I huff out a breath of ready to let sleep take over. My phone starts to vibrate at the end of my bed. A call coming in - a call that means that who ever is calling; called me went to voicemail immediately then called me again to override my do not disturb settings.

Slapping around the mattress until the device I smack the glass of my screen. I see Austons contact taking over the whole screen with the time into corner 5:30am.

I stare at it like it's going to bite me.

I stare until the call disconnects. My screens lights up with the notification of 2 missed calls.

I ignore it in favour of re-position myself in my pillows and lay my phone on my chest. The tiredness train having now left the station without me.

My phone buzzes one more time with a text this time.

From Auston:

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry that I've been unpredictable and a 'moody little shit'. I need you know how much of a breath of fresh air you have been for me.

My stomach pulls this time not the stitches. It's something emotional and wrenching.

I impulsively hit call and the phone barely rings before Austin's deep voice comes thru.

"Amelia.." his tone is breathless almost desperate. What this man does to me. How did this happen?

"Auston.." my raspy pitchy voice sounding horrible. Especially after a lack of us and some drinking. "It's 5:30" unsure what to say I site the clock.

"I know. I'm sorry I just- I just I couldn't not say that now. I need you to know that there is something. I don't know how to be vulnerable.." he sounds so sounds so sad and like he's walking outside. The early morning Toronto bustle evident behind him.

"What are yo" I had to pause to cough a bit and clear my thought "what are you doing, Auston"

"Hoping to catch the girl" he pleads.

I startled as " no, why does it sound like your outside?"

"I am. I was hoping you could let me in"

My brain short circuits and my heart leaps with want.

"You know the code," and I hang up. I stare at the ceiling.

Am I dreaming?

Confirmed that nope I am wake when I lug myself up and all my aches do call out. Even with the code someone needs to let him in.

Not ready to part with my blankets I trek downstairs once's again. Pleasantly surprised at the ease in mobility and a tab but giggly?

My emotions are going at neck break speed as I pace the area between the kitchen and living room. Pulling the blankets tighter as an anxious shutter rips through me at the thought of Auston Matthews being at my door at any second.

I check my phone and he really should be here soon if not already. I move forward to check though the peep hole. The sight before me erases the doubts and dread I was feeling in front of the washer.

Auston stands with his back to my door. His hands alternately between ruffling his hair and resting on his hips. He looks like he's amping himself up? For what?

Feeling more bold than I have been I open the door. Clearly starling him as his head whips around to catch sight of me standing in the door way, blankets wrapped tightly around my head and body. Just my face and feet really showing.

There's no words and a lengthy pause as we take each other in. Auston in a dress pants and a hoodie ? He looks sad and tired. I can't look much better but when he looks me over his eyes grown fond.

"Snug as a bug," are his only words and tiny smile.

"You wish you could be this snug," the smile sneaking onto my lips as well.

"I really do," in the same second I open my cocoon as he steps forward. The cold fabric of his hoodie snaking under the blanket and encircling my mid section. We pull each other closer as if trying to crawl into each other.

He carefully steps forward to guide us into the apartment where's it easier to fully embrace. The most secure I've felt in ages. My eyes water at the sensation and then over flow when of one his land hands grasp behind my beck and fully just holds me to him. It's so easy to relax into his frame knowing that he'll support my weight. I tuck my face into his neck and inhale the scent of him I've memorized unknowingly.

It's easy..

My body stays in the moment enjoying the sensation of his firm body against mine. Dependably and steady.

My Brain however fixates on "easy"

It's so easy to love him.

My insides get hit at the realization and my breath quickens with panic. I pull back to separate myself from the panic but I'm caught in his gaze. His eyes are so deep and open. He's look into me with an intensity. I realize the position of his hand must mean he can feel my racing heart.

Oh god Oh god.

Peace. My brain just melts as Auston squeezes with just a bit of extra pressure at the points of contact. The hand on the back of neck caresses forward into my cheek before pushing both the blanket and my hair off my face.

"I mean it, Amelia. You have been the breath of fresh air I didn't know I've been needing. You have treated me with such kindness and I appreciate you. I'm sorry I couldn't express this." He stares into my eyes a mixture of intensity and vulnerability. A touch of sadness washes over his expression as a tear finally drops from my lashes and runs straight down my cheek to his hand that rests below. His thumb comes up to wipes its trail away. My lips quiver as the urge to fully sob shakes up my spine.

Auston pulls me closer and tucks his face into my neck. Breathing in my scent and squeezing for just a second. He starts to soothe a hand up my back and pulls back to kiss my forehead his lips are hot and linger before he fully pulls back.

"Let's get you somewhere cozy" He runs both of his hands up my arms and soothing them back down. I pout as he makes more room between us.

" but I am cozy," the words coming out bratty and without my control. He chuckles this deep sound that is like a purr to my ears. The resistance and heartache I was feeling before gets tucked at the back of my mind. I let myself be guided to the couch and Auston awkwardly positions himself a small distance from my designated spot in the corner of my couch.

This new spot has one small side effect - the early morning sun cuts in and illuminates my face and his. Both of our exhaustion becoming evident.

"Have you slept?" He reached forward and tilts my face to better examine the darkness under my eyes.  I stare at his darkened features that reveal that he may not of either. "Have you?" I countered lightly with a small smile well being sure connect my eyes with his.  He shakes his head but stares deeply.  The hand that tilted my faced moves to enclosing what feels like the entire side of my face. The distance becomes smaller and less awkward. 

Auston pauses inches from my face searching it for something.  I slightly narrow my eyes trying to figure him out but catching his gaze drop to my lips and return to my eyes.  Something strong wraps and roots itself around my heart as I realized that he's not just taking a closing look.

I blink at him for a second for bring myself closer so when I nod my head with approval our nose knock each other and he matches our lips together in feather light kiss.  Almost more teasing than anything before I press mine lips to his with purpose.

His arms encase me as he maneuvers his way over me softy laying me back as to kiss me fully. My hands brace his face, feeling the roughness from the 'playoff beard'.

My brain clears and my heart beats.

He paused the soft motions of his lips against mine to slowly pull back and kiss my cheek. He carefully moves me easily to be on top of him as we both lay on the couch together. Being sure to pull me close. My head lies on his chest and I hear that his heart matches mine. Blushing I turn my head to kiss his cheek but end up kissing  just below his jaw softly.

"Just one more" he whispers so delicious gruffly before kissing more deeply. His tongues brush's my bottom lip so subtle I almost missed it. A shiver runs through me as I hold him closer.     We pause with our lips together for a moment enjoying the closeness before separating. Wordlessly I tuck myself between him and couch half in his chest. My head his shoulder and right arm rubs my back and into my hair.  His left arm wrapped around me holding me to him.

There is no panic for the first time in a long time as I drift off to sleep.