#Can a Diabetic Have Beer

[beatodiabtesapp]

Living with type 2 diabetes frequently entails avoiding or limiting foods and beverages that can affect blood sugar (glucose) levels. Alcohol is not required to be one of them. However, this doesn’t mean that you can drink as much as you want. Read the blog to know more about beer for diabetics. Read more: https://www.beatoapp.com/blog/is-beer-good-for-diabetes/

[coryosbaby]

Cherry on Top !

synopsis: flashing your dad’s best friend leads to making milkshakes and a pounding on the kitchen counter.

Cw: age gap (reader is of age, anakin is in his 30s) // nsfw . flashing, tit play, pnv, ‘just the tip’ (for a minute), major size kink, light food play, creampie

Notes: this prob has a lot of errors, my bad

It starts off small, at first.

It’s not as if you meant to do it the first time. It was summer, hot, and you were in desperate need of release from your bathing suit that had been becoming less and less damp by the hour. Anakin, having a few beers with your dad, had decided to make his way from the bathroom upstairs. Not thinking, he had decided to open your door and ask you if you wanted pizza for dinner— per your dads request, of course. You were in the middle of taking off your bathing suit, and your bikini top was off. Anakin had paused, and when you noticed him you immediately began to scream at him to get out. He had complied, but he couldn’t help the hardness in his jeans at the sight of your full, perfectly rounded tits. Your nipples had been on display, perky despite the hot weather, and you were so gorgeous with the mounds sitting against your chest. Anakin hasn’t thought about anything else since.

And you know it, too. So that’s why every few weeks you decide to rejog his memory. He’ll be doing things when no one is around, the most random tasks, and you’ll lift your shirt up to your neck. You love the look that always glazes his face— that look of shock, that registers as he turns around from making a bowl of popcorn for movie night, or coming back from the kitchen to get another beer. His eyes bulge out of his head and a blush coats his cheeks. And then after a moment, he’ll get cocky that you’re doing this, doing this for his gaze, he’ll quietly mutter, “tease”. You always let out a tiny giggle, pulling your top back down.

“You gonna do something about it?” You always reply, and he always shakes his head with an amused look and turns back to his original task. But nothing can stop the way his cock twitches and swells every single time, the way you can see his knuckles turning white as he grips the kitchen counter as your dad walks back in, unknowing. He knows he shouldn’t make a move, so he doesn’t.

Until now, in this present moment: your dad has went out grocery shopping, anakin has decided to come over early, and you’ve asked him to make you a chocolate milkshake. You’re practically a brat— daddy gives you anything you want, and so does Anakin. So of course he’s going to get out the ice cream, milk, and other ingredients. His back muscles ripple as he pours the things into the blender, and the sight almost makes you drool. Smiling, you watch as he throws in some chocolate syrup. Diabetes for everyone else, but perfect for you— Anakin always knows exactly what you want.

“Don’t understand how your teeth aren’t rotting out of your head,” he grumbles, even though he’s the one adding additional sugary ingredients.

“Good dentist,” you quip. You lift yourself up onto the counter and swing your sock clad feet against the cabinet. “Can you add a cherry, too?”

“You know I always do, baby.”

The nickname makes heat creep up your neck. Biting your lower lip, you watch as he finishes making the milkshake and pours it into your favorite glass. He sprays on whipped cream, and of course, places a maraschino cherry on top. He grabs the heart shaped straw beside the drink and sticks it inside

He hands it over to you and you take a big sip. You lick up some of the whipped cream as Anakin looks at you for approval. His eyes follow your tongue coated in white.

“Good?” He asks, curious. You nod happily, beginning to sip again. He smiles, and begins to make one for himself. Your panties dampen as you watch the back of his shoulders once again.

He must be so strong, you think.

He finishes up his milkshake, sticking another straw into the a full glass.

You do what you usually do at times like these, and lift the hem of your top. Your nipples harden from the cold air. Clearing your throat, you tilt your head.

“Ani?”

“Yes?”

At the sound of your soft voice, he turns around. When he’s met with the sight of your tits, all plump and pretty, he immediately latches on to the look of them. Usually you don’t keep your shirt up for longer that a few seconds, but you don’t budge this time. Anakin’s gaze turns from amused to hungry in a matter of seconds.

“I need some help,” you breathe out. Anakin wavers. He’s used to your constant teasing, but this is new.

“With?”

Your eyes are pleading, as you look up at him.

“They hurt, ani,” you say. “Need you to rub them for me.”

He sets his glass down, moving around the bar to where you’re perched on the kitchen counter. Watching your desperation, he licks his lips.

“You don’t know what you’re doing.” He starts, voice low.

“I want you,” you say quietly to him. He shakes his head, almost resistant. But your pleading face can only be said no to a few times before anakin finally gives in, and when you begin to rub your tits with your own hands he scolds you.

“Stop that.”

“Why? Don’t you want me?”

He exhales sharply, trying to avert his gaze but he simply can’t. Approaching you slowly, he seethes.

“You’re asking for it.”

“Mhm..” you murmur softly. “Daddy’s gonna be home in an hour, though.. needa hurry.”

You let out a tiny moan when finally, finally, Anakin’s fingers ghost over the peak of your nipple. He’s trying so hard to keep control. His palms are inches away from groping your chest, but he’s holding back.

“Daddy’s not gonna be happy if I do this.” He mutters. He looks up at you with something dark in his gaze. “Daddy’s gonna know you’ve been a bad little girl.”

You push against his hands. His skin rubs against your nipples in the best way.

“Maybe I want him to know.”

It’s fucked up. But Anakin’s cock is aching after that comment, and he begins to lightly rub your tits in his hands.

“Yeah?” He groans, breath heavy. “Maybe we could take a few pictures next time. Post ‘em, let everyone see how much of a whore you are. Seducing daddy’s buddy like this… breaking a big rule, baby. Everyone would love to see it.”

Next time. The thought makes you keen, and you nod as he begins to heavily grope you.

“Bet your dad would be so mad that his little girl’s being such a whore,” He continues. “God, just wait until I get my fuckin’ cock in you…”

“And you’ll what?” You taunt against him. You lean into his earlobe and bite it playfully. “Bend me over? Fuck me in my bedroom when my parents are downstairs? Know you’ve always wanted to.”

Anakin let’s out something between a groan and a whimper, and his hands move from your tits to your hips. Your thighs spread simultaneously, and he places his hips in between yours. You wrap your legs around his back and pull him closer to you.

“Been wantin’ your cock since i graduated…” you mumble, running your nails along his shoulders. “Saw you in that suit when I was giving my valedictorian speech— before that, too.”

“A suit, huh?” He doesn’t kiss you on the mouth just yet, but he leaves little bites and runs his tongue along your collarbone. “That’s cute.”

“Mmmh. Gonna kiss me, yet? Or are you too weak to get it up, old man?”

“Old man?” He chuckles darkly, his grip tightening as he grinds his clothed cock against you. “Only ten years older than you…not even forty yet.”

“Still old to me,” you argue, and press your cunt against him. He shakes his head in disbelief.

“That mouth’s gonna get you in a lot of trouble.” he mutters, and then his lips are pressing against yours, hot, heavy, tasting like chocolate and something that’s predominantly Anakin. It’s something you’ve been craving for years, and your hair goes up to his blonde locks and pulls. The sound he lets out is utterly sinful, and you probe his lip with your tongue. He understands your challenge, but is quick to shove his tongue into your mouth instead to assert dominance over you. You gasp for breath when he pulls away and begins unbuckling his belt.

“Would taste you first, pretty girl, but we don’t have time.”

And then he’s pulling his cock out, and he’s stroking it and it’s wet and it’s so big— circumcised with a pretty pink tip, a tuft of trimmed, light brown hair at the base of him, seven or eight inches, incredibly thick — and he’s dripping. He must’ve been worked up for a long while, watching you in your pretty pink skirt all day. Precum leaks over his fist as he moves.

He’s absolutely gorgeous as he tilts his head back. He’s putting on a show for you, and you know that he must be addicted to the attention. You look up with him at doe eyes and you push his hand away and replace it with your own. He stares into your eyes as you jerk him, his mouth open into the shape of an O.

You slide your panties to the side, rubbing your clitoris between your fingers. You’re aching for Anakin, and you clench as you guide his cock towards your awaiting entrance. You rub him a little on your clit, and it makes you quiver. You press him up against you and he watches with arousal evident in his gaze. You want him so bad, but he’s so big. Would he even fit?

“Go on,” Anakin demands as he sees your hesitation. “Let me get my cock inside there, angel. Let me see what that pretty pussy feels like.”

You bite your lip, wanting to please him. You spread your thighs a bit more, using your other hand to grab one of your pussy lips and spread yourself open. Anakin’s tip breaches you, and after a moment you push it in until you feel full enough. When his thick cockhead pops in, you let out a tiny squeak.

Anakin groans the moment his cock is inside your heat, the tightness and warmth almost too much. You haven’t even taken half of him, but you can feel the burn from the stretch. Your walls ache trying to accommodate him. You can feel tears well up in your eyes from the feeling, and Anakin’s thumb brushes against your bottom lip as he coos at you.

“Oh, honey. Yeah, take the tip, baby. Jus’ like that… only a few more pushes ‘n I’ll be all the way in my baby…”

“Just the tip?” You sniffle, hands grasping at his tattooed shoulders.

“Mmm..” is all Anakin says, and then he pushes into you again, forcing his cock to make its way past your velvety walls.

Okay, you think. So not just the tip.

The tears really begin to fall now, his length also getting to you as he bullies his way into your tiny pussy. You can feel how much he’s throbbing inside of you, and if you didn’t know any better you would think that you can feel his precum leaking inside your womb.

Anakin’s mouth is open, and he watches with fascination as your pussy swallows him whole. It’s been a while since he’s had such a nice cunt, and the fact that you’re taking it for him— even though it hurts you, even though daddy is gonna be home soon— makes him so fucking horny. The guilt he felt before has now washed away into something primal and dark. He wants to claim you from the inside out. Fuck morals— he’s taken care of you for years, hasn’t he? Shouldn’t he be rewarded with something? Besides, you’ve been showing your tits to him for weeks— you’ve been initiating it and practically begging for him to split you open like this. So how is it wrong, Anakin thinks, as his cock finally, finally fills you to the brim completely?

Yes, you heard that right. His hips are finally pressing against you, he’s finally balls deep inside your tiny cunt. You had begun crying a few seconds ago, hot salty tears staining your cheeks. Anakin leans down and licks them up with his tongue.

“So pretty when you cry,” he murmurs against you. “Look at that. Took all of me, baby. I’m so proud of you.”

Your heart clenches, along other things, and you rest your face in his neck as he begins to slowly move.

“You are?”

“Always so proud of you,” he whispers. He presses a kiss to your forehead, sweet despite the current situation. “Gonna fuck you now, pretty girl.”

And that he does. Slow, at first, but his thrusts soon gain speed and something is beginning to build in your tummy.

“Faster.” You whine into his mouth as he kisses you. “Faster, Ani, please!”

And of course, he goes faster. He increases his pace and his hips hit yours ferociously. It’s not long before his heavy sack is slapping against your ass and he’s groaning as he pounds you against the granite countertop.

“Yeah?” He groans. “You like when I fuck you like this? Like my big cock splitting you open? Clenching on me so tight, baby, like you don’t wanna let me go.”

You mewl, grabbing onto him tight. You watch as his eyes land on your milkshake glass a little ways away. It’s still halfway full.

He reaches over, pulling it towards the both of you. He dips his finger in, scooping up some the now melting whipped cream.

“Can’t waste it,” he murmurs.

He rubs it along one of your nipples, coating it in white. He brings his tongue down, suckling the pebbled bud into his awaiting mouth. Your eyes roll back, nerves on fire as he scrapes his teeth against your flesh. He does the same to your other nipple, dripping with chocolate, and then is quick to shove his fingers down your throat. Sugar invades your taste buds, chocolate and whipped cream and syrup, and you greedily lick it up and suckle his fingers with your heavy tongue. He grunts, watching as you practically drink from his digits.

“Good girl,” he coos. “Good fuckin’ girl. Making me feel so good.. pussy’s so tight… yeah, lick me clean, you filthy bitch.”

You tighten, wetness leaking creamy streaks down his length. His degradations are making you even more eager to cum around him.

He smells so nice and he looks so good and you’re already so close. Anakin knows it, too, and his fingers on his opposite hand reach down to rub your clit with his thumb.

“C’mon, honey.” He taunts. “Cum for Ani, baby, need you to cum on my cock so fuckin’ bad.”

Your eyes roll back, clenching up around him like a vice as his fingers fill your throat. You let out a strained, animalistic sound, as you coat his cock in your slick. It’s the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had— either because of Anakin’s fingers, his big cock, or the fact that you’ve been in love with him since the age of eighteen. But either way, you let out a loud moan as you hit your peak, thrusting your hips against his as his cock hits that special, spongey spot inside of you. Even when you come down, Anakin’s hips are still pressed flush against you and he’s still pounding your cunt like it’s his salvation.

His fingers press against your pretty thigh highs, some of them still sticky from the milkshake, and you can tell by the sweat on his brow and the stuttering of his hips that he’s close. You begin to taunt him with sweet, sugar coated words.

“Give me your cum, Ani.” You whine. “Please? I need it, need you to fill up my pussy. It needs your cum so bad—“

“Fuck!”

Anakin moans, loud, and his head tilts back as he slams into you one last time. Rope after rope shoots into your gaping pussy, and Anakin fucks himself through his orgasm until it’s on the brink of painful. When he looks down, he watches as he slowly pulls his fat cock out of your hole. The creamy strings of his cum stick to your pussy lips and his cock, and when his used tip plops out of your hole, a waterfall of thick hot cum spills out of you and onto the countertop. Anakin’s eyes are firey still, and he moves your legs further apart and lifts your hips up so he can watch the puddle of spend in your gaping hole.

“So beautiful,” he mutters. His finger moves down to play with it a little bit, and it makes you clench. “Does my cum feel good, baby?”

You nod, dizzy. He smiles, watching your tired eyes begin to flutter shut.

“No, no.” He says gently, slapping the side of your cheek. “…Wake up, honey. Your dad’s gonna be home soon.”

Slowly, you peel them open and he lets go of your shaking legs. He carries you up to your room, lays you down on the pretty pink sheets, shuts the light off. He cleans up the mess downstairs. All the while, you slip into a dazed and peaceful sleep.

And when Anakin throws the last cum coated napkin away in the garbage can, your dad arrives home with no idea what has just occurred between his precious girl and his best friend.

© 2023 bratty-lxndry444 🤏🏻 all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, modify, repost, or claim as yours !!!

[r0-boat]

Headcanons for favorite ice cream flavor of your favorite whb characters?

I will do all of them

ALL WHB DEMON CHARACTERS AND THEIR FAVORITE ICE CREAM FLAVOR

Ultimate whb ice cream headcannon! Please let me know how you think of them in the comments I love reading them :)

Cut for length.

Gehanna

Satan

This man is an cookies and cream bastard. He crushes Oreos and puts them into his ice cream the more the merrier. He'll still eat his ice cream even though it's just a pile of cookies and little bits of ice cream. Genuinely gets mad that there's not enough cookies in his ice cream.

Sitri

I think he would like a more uncommon flavor like pistachio or matcha. He understands not many people like his flavor but it's his.

Juno/Ppyong

Chocolate ice cream with chocolate chip. Drizzled with chocolate... He just really likes chocolate.

Leraye

He likes those character popsicles with the eyeball gum. he always takes out the eyeballs first and then eats their heads.

Belial

He likes sherbert with gummy bears. I can see him really liking fruity flavors. Occasionally he does also have sprinkles.

Paimon

Bubble gum flavor is a masterpiece and if you disagree you're wrong.

Astaroth

Rocky road. He likes the richness of chocolate paired with the nuttiness of the almonds and the softness of marshmallows delicious!

Zagan

Chocolate chip! He's a simple man.

Tartaros

Mammon

Anything with caramel has his heart, it's sweet and delicious and he likes watching it roll down. So butterscotch caramel. Don't forget the gold shavings

Bimet

He'll have whatever Mammon is having having. extra gold shavings please... (a scoop of pineapple with coconut shavings)

Eligos

Strawberry with sprinkles! He is a strawberry die hard. Constantly getting into fights with chocolate and vanilla fans.

Valfor

Butter pecan with caramel as well. He'll also politely ask what ice cream flavor are you having and then politely asked for some of yours in exchange for some of his.

Hades

Leviathan

Neapolitan ice cream because it has three flavors and that's better than one. but then would rudely steal a spoonful of yours and wants to try everyone else's because he's jealous of what you're having because it looks good.

Foras

He also likes Neapolitan not because he wants to copy Levi He just genuinely likes the flavors.

Glasyalabolas

He can't decide between Cherry or raspberry. He just really likes strong fruity flavors. He doesn't mind a little chocolate drizzle either.

Barbatos

Of course he would like red velvet And he likes mixing bits of brownies.

Orias

Cotton candy with sprinkles. Anything sweet enough to give you diabetes

Abyssos

Beelzebub

His favorite changes every other day once you ask him It will take in about 10 minutes to think of an answer just to change it three times.

(funny headcanon one time visiting Leviathan He got into his ice cream stash to separate the three flavors and reorganize them as a prank. That's how he got banned from Hades for 100 years.)

Bael

Likes root beer float, He likes it because he can mix it in and then drink it while he's working.

Amon

My brain is telling me that he likes cookie dough. I don't know why I feel strongly about this.

Naberius

Peanut butter. He's such a sucker for peanut butter ice cream. He'll be eating it with his tail wagging happily.

Stolas

Strawberry cheesecake ice cream! And don't you dare tell him it's girly or be mean because he will cry!

Paradise Lost

Lucifer

Moose tracks is the most old man dad flavor I can think of.

Gamigin

He's more of a snow cone guy. But he likes Sorbet anything with citrus and he'll be there.

Marbas

He's a plain guy He just likes vanilla. If he feels like something different than he'll add to it it's perfect.

Beur

He likes vanilla but he's more of a French vanilla person. He thinks of himself as the better vanilla fan. He's kind of prideful about it.

Morax

Not much of an ice cream fan but he'll have whatever you're having

Niflheim

Belphegor

Mint chocolate chip. We don't know much about him it's just a vibe.

Gusion

Coffee flavor, no one saw this coming.

Bathin

He likes flavors from different countries like Ube, moonmist or hokey pokey. Any flavor that's specifically unique to that place he'll try it.

Andrealphus

Rainbow sherbert he likes tasting all the little flavors. He also likes the name because if he could see he wants to see all the pretty colors it has. Probably just as beautiful as he imagines it.

Abbadon

Dantalian

Man likes grape flavor He's just dying to get stabbed.

Phenix

Banana split. He eats the banana whole ;)

Ronove

Mango surprisingly normal...

Other

Minhyeok

Always orders the same ice cream as yours when he's alone he just orders vanilla topped with MnM's

[shadowbriar]

Matt Murdock - Waste My Time I

Pairing : Matt Murdock x (she/her)Reader  Word Count : 4.6k Warning : Some curses. Fluff. Some cliff hanger, I think? Sets on Matt's uni years. Notes : I will do some updates on the prologue to better fit the plot. Let me know if you wanna be tagged for future chapters. Cheers! x If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕

↞ Prologue

The smell of sugar and roasted beans were thick in the air. The establishment was packed with people. It wasn’t the usual cafe Matt and Foggy would go to. No, the cheap coffee truck on the way to the campus or perhaps the vending machine by their Advanced Constitutional Law class would do to grab a cup of americano from, but today isn’t one of those days. 

Today is one of those days when Foggy would drag him to the other side of the city just to pick up some special sandwich that would guarantee a forgiveness pass from Marci. Today is one of those days when Foggy would pay for his americano, only to forget his wallet by the bedside table. Today is one of those days when Foggy would have to make another promise to pay for his meal as the blonde had to bail and run to give Marci her sandwich.

Now Matt, ever the understanding friend, certainly paid no mind with all of the troubles Foggy dragged him into this morning. He figured he could use the long way to his classes this morning. To try and see what exactly is on the other side of the campus when the sun is still out. When he was in his normal clothes and not hunting robbers. When he could actually be Matt Murdock and not the Daredevil.

But now standing by the side aisle to pick up his order, Matt knew that the lady who was too busy arguing on the phone with who seems to be a disastrous ex-husband, accidentally picked up his americano and left him with what smells to be a matcha latte with twice if not thrice the normal sugar level.

Matt’s lips pout a little. He’s certainly not in the mood to jump start his day with a lethal dose of diabetes, but Foggy’s left minutes ago and he couldn’t just call the barista to exchange his order without actually tasting the beverage. What excuse would he give? That he could smell that the drink in his hand isn’t what he ordered?

“Hi, sorry,” A voice of salvation echoes from his right. A woman who’s now approaching him with a gentle voice greets. Matt could taste the uncertainty in her tone, how her heart beats a little awkwardly as if she wasn’t sure if she was doing the right thing yet she does it anyway “I’m really sorry to be coming off as a creep like this, but I don’t think that’s your order.”

“No?” Matt asks with a raised eyebrow.

“No, I think the lady before you mistook your order.” She explained, taking the cup away from his hand “I overheard your order with your friend earlier, I was queueing behind you. You ordered an americano, right? This is a hot matcha.”

“Oh,” Matt says, feigning surprise “I wouldn’t have known.”

“Yeah.. Here, you can take my americano.” She offers, pushing her cup to his hand “I haven’t touched it or anything, I promise. It’s clean.”

“No, it’s fine I can just ask the barista—” Matt’s words were interrupted when his phone beeped, followed by the automatic reminder: his Conflict of Laws class starts in five minutes “Shit.”

“Yeah, just take it,” She insists “I’ll ask the barista to redo my order. It’s fine, really.”

“Thank you.” Matt says, accepting the warm cup at last “I appreciate it.”

“It’s no big deal.”

Matt wanted to prolong their conversation. She seems to be a genuinely kind person. Had he not been in a rush for being on the other side of the campus and having to come to class on time as Professor Barton would lock the door a second past nine, he would have stayed and continued talking to this one kind soul. At the very least, he would have asked for her name and asked if he could repay her kindness, perhaps with a slice of pizza and cold beer after class. But today isn’t one of those days.

Today is one of those days when he passed by someone he would wish he had more time to spare with. Today is one of those days when he met someone he would think of longer than the time he spent with said person. Today is one of those days when he hoped that he would meet her again.

—-

Her hair was dishevelled. She dares not to look at the time as it would only fuel her anxiety even worse. She planned to have her essays done before the clock strikes nine, but it has been hours since and she could barely call herself half way there.

The bigger side of the library has now turned dark. Students have retreated back to their bedrooms or have found themselves better things to waste the night with. It was Friday, afterall. Most wouldn’t even think of stepping their foot inside for the night, yet here she is, trying her best to stay afloat on the ocean of assignments that she’s evidently drowning in.

But when she was ready to take the consolation prize for being the most pathetic student of the year, a boy took the seat in front of her. He took out the things from his bag—several heavy textbooks and a laptop—as he tried to find comfort on the table, completely oblivious to her presence.

It was that boy. The boy she helped the other day in the cafe. Well, the word help would certainly be an overstatement as she only pointed out that he was holding the wrong order and offered hers in replacement, but she had a slight nervousness in her bones as she felt it was overstepping of her when she offered the proposal, so thinking that she was helping him feels a little rewarding and helped soothe her nerves a little.

She silently stares at him as he continues his work. His fingers trace the braille on his textbooks, mouth slightly moving as he tries to read the passages. The boy was beautiful to say the least. Like a beautiful painting you wouldn’t grow bored of even after hours of staring. The soft light of the library was hitting his face in all the right directions, enhancing his features that truthfully need no betterment yet it accentuates his beauty nonetheless.

Five if not fifteen minutes after her staring, she realises that she has to make her presence known. She wouldn’t want him to be startled if she makes any noises or movements, or worse makes him feel unsafe by her stealthy actions. The last thing she would want is to make him feel like she was a threat instead of a friend.

She taps on the table lightly, catching his attention, “Uh, I just want to let you know that you’re not alone at this table.”

“Oh, right,” The boy answers “Should I move?”

“No, no! I just wanted to let you know, that’s all. Please don’t move.” She says fast.

The boy’s lips curved into a smile but his brows knitted, “I’m sorry, have we met before? You sound familiar.”

“Uh, yeah, I’m the girl from the cafe,” She says, the same uncertainty lacing her tone “I swear I’m not trying to stalk you or anything. I just happen to be in the same place you are for some reason.”

“I never thought of you as one,” The boy says with a smile “I’m Matt, by the way.”

She tells him her name.

Matt whispers her name, letting it roll on his tongue like it’s going to settle for a long time there, “I don’t mean to be rude, but what are you doing in a library on a Friday?”

“The same reason as you have, I’m sure.” She says with a sigh, not wanting to elaborate “What major are you taking?”

“Law, you?”

“International Affairs.” She answered, biting on her pencil as she judged him “Law, huh? Well, aren’t you a smarty pants.”

Matt chuckles. 

Her heart skipped a beat.

Stupid heart.

“Listen,” Matt says after a visible nervous lick of his lips “I hope this isn’t too straight forward, but I really appreciate what you did the other day, and I figured I owe you some form of gratitude, so I was wondering if.. You’d be free some time soon? Maybe this weekend? We can grab some food and sit by the park or do whatever it is you find amusing.”

Her smile grows, “Are you asking me for a date?”

“No, I’m showing you my gratitude,” He argues “But masked as a date, yes.”

It was practically impossible for her to bite down her grin by now. Eternally grateful that most of the lights in the library are out and that he couldn’t see the stupid smile on her face. She was sure that her cheeks were red and that her eyes were as big as puppy’s with how charming Matt is. Exactly how more perfect can the man sitting in front of her be? Beautiful face, delightful talking, and certainly a brilliant mind. At this point he could either be her knight in shining armour or a complete psychopath, no in between.

“So.. Would you have any free time?”

“How’s next week? Friday?”

Matt nods, smiling softly, “Friday it is.”

—-

Days leading up to the date passed as slow as it could get, even when they were spent by meeting her at the library before his night patrols. Matt knew that it was practically wrong of him to insert himself in her life. To come uninvited to her table that night, acting as if he didn’t know it was her nor did he not know of her presence, but in his defence, he didn’t deliberately plan to meet her. It only so happened that he finished his nightly patrol quickly that night and that she was in the library when he initially wanted to spend the rest of the night finishing his paperworks.

At that moment, he thought that God was aligning their stars. It wasn’t everyday that he had the urge to finish patrol early. It wasn’t everynight that he wanted to spend the rest of the night in the library. It certainly wasn’t every Friday that he would find her there. In fact, he couldn’t recall if she’s ever been to the library before. He would’ve caught the familiarity of her scent at the cafe if she was a regular there.

Though Matt knew that he couldn’t offer much to her, not his full time nor attention as they’re both reserved to keeping Hell’s Kitchen a little safer each night, Matt was willing to give everything he has left to get to know her better. It wasn’t everyday he could meet someone who would treat her with kindness that is pacifying without any hint of humiliation. She knows just the right amount of care to show without having to walk on eggshells around him and that’s something Matt very much appreciates.

All of it felt like it was meant to be. That he was meant to get that wrong order and that she was to intervene and rescue him from that God awful latte. It felt like he was meant to go to the library that night and meet her once again. And it certainly felt like their date tonight was meant to happen.

“Oh, this is gold,” She moans as she takes another bite of their pizza.

Matt smiles, satisfied to hear her blissful commentary, “It’s good, isn’t it?”

“The best,” She says shortly. There was a sudden silence from her and Matt wonders if something had happened but she quickly speaks “Uh, you’ve got.. Um, you’ve got some sauce on your lips.”

“Yeah?” Matt asks, his free hand wiping the sides of his lips.

“It’s still there. I think it’s dried a little,” She says, that hint of uncertainty reappearing in her voice “Can I just?”

“Yeah, go for it.”

And she wipes the corner of his lips gently. The warmth of his skin was in contrast to the cold wind that gushed their way and it only amplified the butterflies in her stomach as their skin made contact. Supposed he felt the unexpected jolt of electricity too because his jaw tenses a little before he lets out a sigh when she finishes wiping his lips.

“Thanks.” Matt whispers with a smile.

She didn’t say a word, only humming a little to show response.

Had Matt not have his heightened senses, he would have thought that something wrong happened but he could hear the not-so-steady beat of her heart and how her body heat rises a little. She was just nervous, just as much, if not less erratic than he is. If only she could feel his heart and hear just how loudly it’s beating right now, acting as if it’s trying to burst forth his ribcage, she would perhaps feel a little less agitated.

It was too soon to say, but Matt couldn’t ignore all the blissful connections they’ve shared. He felt as if he’s finally met his match. The knot to his strings, the solace to his rage. He knew that there’s still so many layers of himself that he’s yet to show her, the sides of Matt Murdock and Daredevil that he’s yet to expose to her, but for reasons he couldn’t explain, he felt like he could take his time and savour the moment as it unfolds.

A little egoistic of him, but what exactly can he do at the time?

“This is great,” She says, breaking his train of thought “I very much enjoyed tonight.”

“Oh no, are we reaching the end of the night?”

“No,” She chuckles, shaking her head “I just wanted to say it, just in case I forget to and you wonder if I’m having a great time or not.”

Matt grins, his heart swells in pride and joy, “I’m having a great time, too.”

The night passes far too fast for either of their liking. There seems to be a never ending topic for the both of them to discuss. From the major they’re taking, their roommates, down to how honking your car is illegal here in New York, everything feels like an interesting subject to dissect. Like an overflowing flow of soft ripples that hit your ankles on the beach shore. Soothing and intriguing at the same time.

Both their feet now carry them around the city, directionless yet certainly not lost. She was clutching on his arm, trying to make sure that he wouldn’t trip as they walked through the park and around the neighbourhood. For most it would certainly be the most bland date as neither of them knew where to go nor what to do, but neither of them had any complaints. It was perfect as it is.

Until it wasn’t.

Matt could feel the sudden spike of her heartbeat. Whoever it is that’s standing by the porch, whoever’s house party it is that they stumbled upon, she certainly didn’t have any intention to join nor stopped by at it, yet from the sweat that’s starting to build on her skin, he knew that she has to.

“About time you appear!” Some girl yells, clearly directed at her.

“Shoot,” She mutters, sounding like she was caught red handed over some crime he wasn’t sure about “She’s going to have my head on a spike for this one.”

“Is everything okay?” Matt asks, his brows knitted in confusion.

“Yeah, it’s just my friend’s birthday and I— Fuck,” She curses, running a hand through her hair “I completely forgot it’s today.”

Matt forces a smile, “It’s fine, we can call it a night.”

“No, I’ll be right back,” She whispers to him, squeezing his arm a little before she jogs a little to the group of people on the porch.

“Oh, you’re in so much trouble,” One of the girls says as she approaches them “Gaby’s been asking for you for hours! Your phone’s dead, we couldn’t reach you—,”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” She apologises, she was honest with her apology, Matt could hear it in her heartbeat “I completely forgot about her birthday party, and I double booked tonight, and I just—”

“So you chose to bail on your best friend's birthday instead?” Her friend argues.

“I mean, he’s cute, I would totally bail on Gaby’s birthday too,” Her other friend commented, making Matt smile a little “Who’s he? I didn’t know you’re seeing someone.”

“I— It’s a long story, okay? I’ll tell you guys later,” She frantically says, trying to save herself from the wrath of her friends “I’ll call it a night with him. Please don’t tell Gaby that I forgot about her birthday, okay? Just tell her I overslept or something.”

Matt bites the inner of his cheek. One of the downplay of hearing every and each conversation others have is knowing what’s to come before it actually hits you. Sure it might come as useful for certain times, but Matt was reluctant to bid his goodbye just yet. He wanted the night to last just a little bit longer, to feel her presence just a few hours longer and to walk around with her just a few miles further. Now it’s clear that he would have to scrape those desires off of his list.

“I am so so so sorry about this,” She says as she comes close to him, her words dripping with regret and guilt “I completely forgot about her birthday party and I just— God, we should’ve taken a left from that park.”

Matt chuckles, “We should have, yeah.”

“I’m really sorry,” She says once again “I’d invite you in but I don’t know how Gaby would react with me being four hours late to her birthday party and I really don’t want you to be trialled for it with me.”

“I understand, don’t worry about it.”

“God, I’m really the biggest arsehole there is, huh?”

“For now, yes,” Matt jests “But don’t worry about it. I had a great time.”

“I had a great time, too. Do you.. Do you know the way back?”

Matt nods, “I’ll manage.”

“Okay,” She smiles apologetically, clearly not wanting to part either yet her feet are already moving towards the house as her friends continue to call for her “I’m really sorry, Matt. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

Once again, Matt nods and smiles.

He turns his body away from the house, retracing his way back to the campus. Sure it wasn’t the most ideal way to end their date, he feels like he could and deserves to yell a bit to her friends for stealing her away from him ever so rudely like that, but he figures that he’s had his fair share of her tonight. He reminds himself that it was a Friday night. It was honestly a little too good to be true for someone as delightful as her to have her night free of dates and appointments, so to find out that she’s actually booked for a party is certainly not much of a surprise. Matt only wished that he didn’t know it the way he did.

They certainly should’ve taken a left from the park and avoided this neighbourhood altogether.

“Wait, Matt!”

Matt’s pace was put to a halt. He turns back to face the direction of her voice. He could hear her slight pants and the slight jog she made toward him. A small smile returned to his face, “Yes?”

“You surely didn’t think I’d let you go without a kiss, did you?” She asks, her breathing fickle from the short exercise “Or did you not want one?”

“I’d love one,” He says fast “Please.”

Matt’s grip on his cane tightened a little as she took a step closer. She places her arms around his shoulders and Matt swore he suddenly forgets what’s to do with his limbs. He wasn’t sure if he should put his hands on her waist or should he keep still. It was very much out of character for him. He’s had kisses before, had dates with plenty of other girls, but how is it that he has no idea how to act when it comes to her?

When their lips met, Matt swears that he could climb the Empire State Building with his bare hands. It was an uneventful kiss, certainly not the most creative that he’s ever had, but the electricity he felt was beyond compare. It was as if the kisses he’s had before were mere teasers to what it truly is. Like he was deprived of something he’s been so hungry from. Like he was deprived of her.

“I had a great time tonight,” She says as they part, sounding as if the kiss didn’t just flip her whole world upside down like it did to him “I’ll see you soon?”

“Tomorrow,” He promises “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” She agrees through her smile “Goodnight, Matt.”

“Goodnight.”

—-

She chews on her lower lip as if determined to make them bleed once again. Her eyes were glued to the clock, watching as it ticks with each second instead of averting her focus back to the papers on her table. Finishing her tasks prove to be a more challenging issue to tackle with each passing day.

Before she knew it, it was already Thursday. Matt promised to meet her the next day after their date, yet such a promise was never fulfilled. She figured that he might just have to do a rain check about their meeting, perhaps having some last minute task that he has to finish before the weekend ended, but even when Monday comes, he still was a no show.

Sorry, something happened. Will be in touch once it’s resolved. M

Now what should a girl do with such a short message?

Each day she would wake up early to go to the cafe where they first met and each noon when her classes were finished, she would try to run herself to the library, hoping that he would magically pop up out of nowhere like he did the very first night they met. Those efforts prove to be no avail as the expected man never bothered to make an entrance.

She wonders if their abrupt separation was what caused him to ghost her. She argues, the kiss they shared should’ve been enough to make him overlook the unpleasant farewell. It was much more than enough for her end, but could it be that it wasn’t the same for him? Could it be that he was more baffled about her last minute dick move that he decided to cut it off? Could it be that he’s had enough of her?

“Is this seat reserved?”

Her head perched up, excited to hear the familiar voice that she so missed about, “Unfortunately, yes. It’s been reserved for a week, actually.”

Matt shows an apologetic smile, “Is it still reserved?”

“Depends,” She teases, closing her laptop as she realises that there would be no work done for the rest of the night “If the culprit could explain and give a life-threatening excuse to save himself, I suppose he can still claim his reservation.”

“What if he could only offer an apology and say that he’s desperately sorry for being a douche?”

“No explanation?”

Matt hesitates, “No, none that he could disclose.”

“Not even a little?”

“I—,” Matt licks his bottom lip. It was a habit he does whenever he’s nervous, she notices. He takes the seat and rests his white cane on the side of the table. He looks troubled, like he’s trying to piece words in his mind that he’s not familiar with “Look, I.. I don’t exactly have any explanations to give you. I just.. I have been away. And I fear that I will have to be away for more times than I’d like in the future.”

She remains quiet, listening and watching as he tries to speak.

“I like you, a lot. We had the best date of my life last week, but I don’t think I have what you’re looking for,” He continues, looking conflicted and hurt with his own words “I just— I’m sorry, I really hope I could give more than what I have, but at the same time, I selfishly don’t want to lose you either so if we could just— If we could just be friends, I think I would like that very much.”

Matt could sense the piqued beating of her heart. The news he came to bear was certainly bitter, even more to him than her if he could only be so honest. But what happened earlier this week made him realise that he wasn’t in a position to be in a relationship with anyone. Especially not with someone who looks like she’s willing to go the extra mile for him.

It was supposed to be an easy rescue mission. Some petty robbery that happened on some dingy alley of Hell’s Kitchen that he expected to be settled an hour at most, only to turn out to be a complicated one as he came home with more bruises and wounds than he could count. He had to once again lie to Foggy and say that he was the one being robbed by a group of thugs in order to be able to go to their dorm room and sleep in. But as the lies roll off of his tongue, Matt realises that she would be another person he would have to lie to everytime he comes back bruised from a patrol. She would be another person he would have to deceive with excuses that never truly touch the truth. She would be another tally in his long list of people to ask forgiveness from.

And that’s something he doesn’t think he could live in for long.

So he figured to lock himself inside for a couple of days until his bruises heal. He refuses to meet her when he’s still littered with wounds he couldn’t explain to her about. Even when his finger itches to text her, even when his feet were begging him to let them carry him to the library, even when he was yearning for him more than ever, Matt has to hold himself within the walls of his dorm room that feels like they’re closing in with every passing day.

Now that he finally looks decent enough to go back to his classes, he finally gathered the guts to see and talk to her. There was a mix of bittersweet feelings when he sensed her sitting by their table alone. Relieved to know that she’s waiting, yet sorry that he has to come bearing bad news.

“I.. I don’t know what to say,” She says, blinking rapidly as she tries to digest his words “Are you in some kind of trouble, Matt? You can talk to me if you are. We can try and figure it out.”

“No, no, I’m fine,” He answers “It’s more of a.. Me thing. I just have to deal with some things first.”

She nods, feeling a hint of grief pooling in her heart, “I see.”

There was a pause. Neither have the slightest idea to go forward from this. Both clearly want to continue whatever it is they left off, but they’re truly on a stalemate here, aren’t they? What could she do when he’s asked her to let this go and stay as friends instead? What could he do when he wanted to have her close but only have just started to be the Daredevil? What could they do when they have so much to say yet so little to share?

“I’m really sorry,” Matt says instead.

“No, I understand,” She shakes her head, forcing a smile “Friends it is, then.”

And so it begins. The never ending loop of wasting each other’s time for the sake of wasting time. The never ending cycle of stealing a brush of the other’s hand under the table for the sake of accidental touches. The never ending series of pouring each others’ heart through the stories they share just for the sake of sharing. Always more than what friends do, but never less than what lovers should.

[ethelcainlvr]

Wicked Game Pt 2 - Armando Aretas

Armando Aretas x Black! OC (Helena)

Part 1

After each fight, he’d sit down at the bar, cuts and scratches littered on his face and arms, discoloring his perfectly tan skin.

They’d exchanged naught but a few words since he popped up three months ago, most of them pertaining to whatever drink he ordered, his low raspy voice sending shivers down her spine all the same.

That all changes one evening.

It’s a few hours before Spades opens for the night. Despite the fact that she’s off for the day, Helena makes her way through a back entrance. She waves to the bartender in her place once she’s inside, along with a few of the dancers she’s come to know, all getting ready for the long night ahead. 

Javier’s “office” (she’s yet to see any work being done) is crowded like usual. His posse is gathered around the pool table, playing, drinking, talking. 

Helena notices him first. His reserved demeanor is a stark contrast to the crew he’s with. 

Helena watches Armando, settled on the arm of a chair right beside Javier. His eyes find hers quickly, as they tend to do, like he can sense her or something. He smiles, raising the bottle of beer to his full lips. 

The sound of her own name breaks Helena out of her trance. Javier’s in front of her all of a sudden, blocking Armando from her view. He’s staring at her expectantly, a question in his furrowed brows, giving Helena the impression she’s completely ignored something he’s said.

“I got what you asked for,” she supplies, taking her best guess. 

In lieu of a response he steps her out with her into the hall. The overlapping chatter and underlying music dim, and they're out of earshot of anyone still in the room.

Javier looks around the empty hallway, then stretches out his hand.

“What did you find?”

Helena places the slim thumb drive in his open palm. 

“Everything you asked for.”

Javier closes his fist around the drive, rubbing his thumb across its surface thoughtfully as he nods, his sharp jaw flexing. 

Helena’s come to know Javier as a relatively quiet man. Most of their conversations are just like this one, consisting of few words and many gestures. 

“Thank you.” His voice is grim when he replies finally.

Helena’s good with computers. In a way that allows her to blur the lines between public and private information.

In places like Spades, to people like Javier, information is invaluable. 

When Helena, a 23 year old grad student, moved to this city, she’d needed money badly. She was more than grateful for the job, but bartending simply didn't cut it, when you factored in school, and the medical expenses her type one diabetes racked up. 

Watching the kind of people that flowed in and out of Spades, from low level drug runners to the most powerful politicians in the state, she’d quickly learned the signs of status, the value of taking in information from all around her, and how and when to use it. 

Javier, with his similar skill of discernment, had quickly taken notice of her, and they soon fell into a simple sort of arrangement. 

Cash, for information. Names, addresses, bank statements, even blueprints like the ones on the flash drive she’d just handed over. The most important part of this arrangement is that, however tempted she may be, she never asked questions, never asked what he needed the information for, who it was going to.

 It kept her from falling in too deep, allowed her to keep what she did at this club in a small compartment of her life, kept her from having to ask herself the tough question of what exactly she’d be willing to do for money.

“He workin’ for you now?” 

It’s likely the reason, when she asks this, Javier stops in his tracks and shoots her a quizzical look.

Helena has been around long enough to have somewhat of an understanding of how Javier operates. He keeps his inner circle tight, and from the looks of things, Armando has managed his way in, in just a few short weeks. She tries to convince herself this is the extent of her curiosity, but Helena doesn’t need to turn her head to know Armando is staring, she never does, and she’s felt his eyes on her for weeks. She wants to know why exactly he’s so interested in her.

 She nods subtly in his direction for Javier’s benefit.

He glances inside, following her lead. 

“Something like that.” He replies, as cryptic and dismissive as ever.  

Helena takes him turning away as a sign the conversation is over and despite the fact that her question remains unanswered, she turns to do the same. She should have known better than to expect a straightforward answer from Javier.  

She’s all the way by her car, after stopping to grab some things from her locker when she stops in her tracks. 

There’s no reason, scientifically at least, that you should be able to feel someone looking at you. 

And yet, inexplicably, when she turns around he’s there.  

Leaning against the back wall of the bar, arms crossed over his chest. 

There’s a beat. Just a moment of the two of them watching each other. Then he stands, nods to the right, and steps out of the light, gradually disappearing in shadow of the rapidly disappearing sun.

She waits until the curiosity overcomes her, before she follows him into the quickly expanding dark. 

[seravphs]

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — GOJO X FEM READER

When you took the job, you knew working the night shift at your local convenience store would be boring. That’s fine; you’re here to make enough to pay rent, not to smile for strangers who don’t care anyways.The appearance of a stranger who seems to have a lot to hide is tantalizing bait to your boredom, but you can’t give in. That is, if you have a choice at all.

wc — 3k

tags — mafia au but not really, implied but never addressed, is he or isn’t he, Gojo is Weird, blood, guns, this is not meant to be a serious gorey fic, its just a fun little way for me to branch out and stretch those writing muscles 

They don’t pay you enough to keep guns under the counters, but it’s cheaper to teach you to shoot then it is to pay for security cameras. It would be cheaper not to show you to protect yourself at all, actually, but you’re the sixth cashier they’ve burned through in as many weeks. Even in a town as down as this one is, rumors spread fast. 

The wages are shit, but it’s all you’ve got, and college is expensive for a degree as useless as yours is. Four months away from becoming a junior, and you’ve only held unpaid internships and this position as a cashier at a dirty, old convenience store on the wrong side of the train tracks. 

You think the owner is hiding something, or maybe that’s just wishful thinking for a job as boring as this one. People come and go, make rude comments, pick up beer and slide you IDs you weren’t trained to check. It’s quiet enough to convince you to let down your guard, then your fingers brush the cold metal underneath the register and you remember the long line of unnamed, unknown girls who came before you. 

This is the bad side of town, and you’re stuck here for at least three months, two weeks, and five days more. Lucky you. 

At least the work is easy. It’s so far out that management can get away with the grime on the walls and pulsing, fluorescent blue lighting that gives you headaches. Even though they’re supposedly focused on keeping costs low and profits high as possible, the air con is always on blast. 

There are no regulars here, not until him - the one customer you get past 3:00 am. The witching hour, if you believed in that sort of the thing. 

You’ve taken to calling him ghost, your stranger. He’s just like one - as faded and pale as a memory, hard to discern between reality and the imaginary. 

You had just thought he was another one of your kind, a student down on hard luck and keeping ungodly hours. This town would do that to you - strip you of any shimmer in your irises from before you came here and beat you into the ground. There was a little bit of sympathy for him, then. Sometimes you offered him a piece of candy in the bowl by your left hand. 

He never took it. Just as well, it probably wasn’t safe to eat. 

The bell on the door rings. On instinct, you lift your head, your hand going back to the comforting holster underneath the counter. It’s just him, however - piercing blue eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses and bone white hair. At first, you thought he was just high constantly, cause no one needs sunglasses when the moon is already rising in the sky, but the one time you caught him looking, the whites of his eyes had been clearer than milk. 

The temperature shifts subtly when he comes in. It’s hot outside. Summer nights in July always feel disgusting. This town can’t pay for maintenance, so during the day, the asphalt cracks under the sun. Heat waves shimmer off the concrete side walks. It’s cooler at night, but not by much. When your tall, mysterious stranger comes in, he always brings the heat in with him, even if only for a moment. The thermometer’s red line goes up a few degrees. 

He has a routine, like a clockwork doll. Heads for the back first, pulling the strings of his black hoodie down as he makes a beeline for the fridge. You think he might be diabetic as you ring up his order: same old, same old. Sugary blue pop, a packet of fruit chews, five hour energy. Something new, this time. You’ve never seen him grab actual food before, though this should barely count. You add the chips to his total. The money’s in your hand before you can ask for it. 

Strange man. 

Strange men are preferable to scary men, however. Customers come and go, often silent, always in and out like they were never here, but every so often, someone comes in who’s clearly looking for trouble. 

And sometimes, there’s someone who’s so clearly dangerous it stops your heart. 

He’s wearing a balaclava. It’s a trend now, you try to convince yourself. It’s fashionable. 

No one cares about fashion in this town (no one but your ghost, that is).They’re too focused on staying alive. The balaclava wearing man is clad in all black. But the bad news is that he’s coming towards you with a plastic bag in one hand and a flash of silver in the other. The knife twirls over his fingers, over and over, rhythmic and steady like he knows how to use it. 

You grip the holster of the gun. To be honest, although you were trained, you’re not sure you can do it. It’s only a comfort, like a child’s favorite blanket. 

He thrusts the bag on the counter. “All the cash you have, bitch. Hurry up.” 

You’re just a part-timer. You’re not risking your life for a dumb convenience store. Right as your hands move to unlock the cash register, however, the door rings again. 

It’s him. 

Black hoodie (a new one, with white and blue lettering down the arms), black oval sunglasses, hair bleached brighter than the corona of the sun. Warm air blows into the store, a miniature heatwave. 

He doesn’t notice the man who’s currently hustling you for all the money in the store, but the man notices him. 

“Get lost, kid! We’re busy here.” 

He looks up, surprised. Then he ambles closer, as casual as if it’s a normal day, picking up his usual on the way: a packet of chips, blue pop, candy. 

“Nah,” he says, voice calm and cheery. A lunatic, then. “I’m busy.” 

“Do you understand what’s going on here?” The potential thief looks like he might be preparing to do something you’ll all regret. You wonder if you could use the gun to save someone else’s life. You don’t think so. 

Your ghost let’s his sunglasses slip down his face. His eyes, as they always are in the rare instances he’s let you see them, are startling and preternaturally blue. 

The man jumps. He seems confused, vacillating between fear and disbelief. It’s as if he recognizes him, just by the eyes alone.

“What don’t you get? Scram.” His blue eyes flash with restrained heat. “I’m not a patient man.“

Still, he hesitates. You wouldn’t. The words don’t seem like an empty threat. 

Casually, your ghost throws his items on the counter for you to bag, pushing the man aside. In one motion, he has the knife. “I’m keeping this as a reward for my generosity. You have five seconds before I decide to take your spleen with it.” 

The man with the balaclava looks at his eyes again, flicking between them and his white hair in fear before he comes to a decision. He bolts out of the store. You understand the sentiment a little. When you first met your ghost, with his hair like hoarfrost and eyes like the summer sky, you had felt the strangeness of him shake you too, as if something about him was fundamentally at odds with the world. 

Your ghost snaps you out of your frozen stupor when he gestures for you to get on with checking his purchases out. This time, as he throws down his bills, you catch the flash of a shiny watch on his wrist, inked sleeves. His arms writhe with patterns of dragons and koi fish, characters for honor and glory and strength. He has money that people would kill for in this town.

He raises an eyebrow when he catches you looking at the symbols of the kind of wealth that shouldn’t exist this close to the outskirts of nothing. You guys didn’t even have a train that came reliably most days, the tracks scattered with litter and graffiti.

He’s cocky. The way few can afford to be. Real arrogance too, not borrowed, the kind that can make threats at the blink of an eye because they can follow through on them. 

“Are you in the fucking mafia?” You ask in disbelief, remembering only too late that the two of you are strangers. 

All of the fantastical stories you’ve made up in your head to explain away his strange appearance and late nights are just that: fantasies. Idle fairytales to pass the time. Ways to make your job less boring, soothe the ache of being a washed up nobody in your shithole of a hometown. 

You are suddenly very aware of the presence of danger, the hair rising on your arms as your body reacts like an animal. 

“That doesn’t sound like a thank you to me.” 

His voice is slightly higher than you’d expect from someone in the mafia. For some reason, you’ve always imagined mafiosos would have a deep baritone, but his is smoother, even if it has a rasp to it, like he smokes as a hobby. You’ve never seen him pick up cigarettes. 

Even more dangerously, you can feel the thread of attraction between you two, pulling taut. You want to know more, desperately, even when you’ve seen him threaten to gut a man as calmly as he picks out what flavor of pop he wants. 

There’s no room for risk when you live here. All the perilous thrills you could want are already imbedded in your daily life. There’s nothing left for any more. 

“That doesn’t sound like an answer to me,” you retort. 

You shouldn’t be so comfortable with him - you aren’t, really, you’re aware of the fact that you two are technically strangers but if he wanted to hurt you, he could’ve done so already. 

He laughs. Blatantly. A snickering kind of laugh, one that’s clearly directed at you, not with you. 

“No,” he says, between wheezing for breath. “Not mafia. What, you read too much manga or something? I’m just an insomniac. Oh, that means I have trouble-“

“I know what that means!” You snap, humiliated, warmth burning on your cheeks. 

Sue you for wanting a little excitement in this boring job, boring town, boring life. You were an idiot for thinking this lunatic could be the one to provide it. 

He taps his cold bottle of pop to your forehead as he leaves, making you flinch. “You’re a weird girl,” he says. “I like you.” 

I like you. 

I like you. 

I like you. 

The words run through your head relentlessly, little greyhounds with too much energy yapping at all hours of the day. A little chorus of “I like you”s at all hours, making you replay the moment over. Stuck. 

This town drives you mad. You haven’t had anything to love in a while in this cold, deserted place. It must be why you’re fixated on him. You’re imagining the obsession because you miss the feeling. The heart is a muscle like any other - it grows atrophied with disuse. 

That doesn’t stop you from looking forward to seeing him again. 

The next time your beautiful stranger walks in, he’s with a friend. That’s how you learn his name. His buddy looks like even more of a delinquent than he is - gauges, tattoos, piercings, all of it. 

He’s gentler, though, more soft-spoken. Voice like a running stream, smile as soft as warm butter. This is the first time you’ve seen your ghost laugh, when too-many-piercings-to-count cracks some joke by the ice cream freezer. He catches you looking, long black hair flipping over his shoulder as his head whips around to face you. Ghost hasn’t noticed. He gives you a smile, but something about it feels wrong. You avert your eyes, and the boys are in the next aisle, hidden from view, a moment later. 

“Hey,” Ghost says, his smile genuine. “Fancy seeing you again.” 

“You know her?” His friend questions. “I’m so sorry. Gojo’s such a pain in the ass, isn’t he?” 

You smile faintly. Something about his friend is terrifying. His eyes seem dead inside, pure black tar, sticky traps. 

Ghost shoves him. “Back off. You’re the annoying one, she’s so much more spunky when it’s just me.” 

You’re so focused on trying to keep yourself out of danger you don’t even realize the tidbit of information you have until you’re in the grocery store after your shift. As you’re picking out produce you realize - now you know his name. 

This town and it’s stupid transit system has you waiting in the biting cold for hours. Your groceries are heavy and the bus petulantly refuses to come. 

A motorcycle roars in the distance, dying to a purr as it stops in front of you. 

“Hi, stranger,” says your beautiful ghost. “You want a ride?” 

“Are you stalking me?” You blurt out. 

Gojo wrinkles his nose, offended. “Who’d have time to stalk you? You can just say you don’t want the ride.” 

“Wait!” This is a bad idea. This is a very bad idea. This is the worst idea you’ve had in a long time. You should listen to your mother when she tells you not to be reckless. “No, I do. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” 

His lips curve into a brilliant smile. “I was just teasing. C’mere.” 

He pulls a helmet out of nowhere - it’s clearly not for him, because his white hair is messy and windswept. He buckles it under your chin carefully. Under further consideration, he shucks off his black leather jacket and tucks it around you. 

“Trust me,” he says. “It gets cold when you’re riding. You’re going to hold on tight, right?” 

You wrap your arms around his waist. 

“Nope,” he says, taking your hands and pulling you closer so you’re pressed right up against his back. You can feel the warmth of his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt. “You’re going to fall off like that. Address?” 

He doesn’t just drop you off, he carries your groceries inside for you and makes you laugh as he helps unpack them. 

Too late, you realize you might’ve given your address to a mafioso. Just because Gojo says he isn’t, doesn’t mean it’s true. He’s just hard to resist. You’ve always been weak for beautiful things, starved of it in this concrete city. 

That’s when the flowers start showing up. 

Did you mention you were weak to the beautiful things? 

Massive bouquets of riotous color, flowers that aren’t even in season, that cost a fortune to ship. 

Maybe it’s payment for his absence, because Gojo hasn’t shown up for the past week. The flowers keep coming - lilies with creamy white petals, extravagantly expensive roses, massive hothouse orchids. The flowers don’t compare to him. 

It’s bad, but you’re addicted. He gives you a thrill like nothing else. 

The next time you see Gojo, you hear him first. You’re closing another shift where you haven’t seen him and heading out the back door when you hear a noise like a wounded animal. A soft hiss of air escaping through clenched teeth.

“Gojo!” You gasp. He’s leaning against the bottom of the stairs, chain smoking and clutching his side. Red spills between his fingers, staining his normal white shirts a startling rust. 

“Hey, stranger. Fancy seeing you here.” 

“This is no time for your little jokes! Let me see that, oh my god-“

“Hey, hey,” he soothes. “No need to fret, it’s not serious.” 

“You’re going to bleed out.”

“Nah. I know what that looks like.” 

“Just- stay here, okay?”

“Not going anywhere, princess.” He smiles up at you, still fatally charming as his life bleeds out of his side. “You going to take care of me?”

“Against my better judgement, yes.” 

Hauling out the massive first aid kit your boss keeps in the bathroom cabinets is a bit of an ordeal, but nothing compared to pulling Gojo’s shirt up and seeing the slash in his side. 

“Worse than it looks.” 

Well, at least he’s right about that. It doesn’t look like he needs stitches, but he’ll need to be very, very careful for the next few days. You dig through the kit for salve, bandages, and wipes. Gently, you set to work cleaning, then bandaging. 

His head tips back, revealing the column of his throat, as he moans in pain. There’s a tattoo right between his collarbones, a stylized eye. Watchful. “Hurts,” he says. 

“Serves you right, you big baby. Besides, isn’t this supposed to be nothing for you?”

“I’m not a mafioso,” he says with a smile. 

You eye him disbelievingly as you pack his wound. 

“There, all better.”

“Not quite.”

“What now?”

“Doesn’t a kiss fix everything?”

You know he’s expecting you to push him away, so just to be contrary, you lean in and gently peck the bandage covering his side. 

His hand snakes his way into your hair and gently brings you back up, face to face with him. “Bad girl. You know that’s not what I meant.” 

And then he’s kissing you like you’re his nicotine. He tastes like smoke and ash - not particularly enjoyable, but the more time you spent licking his bad habits from his mouth, the more you’re staring to enjoy them. Gojo is everything that’s wrong for you - secondhand delinquency, but he’s such a good kisser. He pulls away and mouthes down your neck, leaving bruising kisses all over your carotid artery. 

“Pretty thing,” he murmurs against your neck. “Wanna take you home.” 

You think he might be delirious and check him for a fever. “Don’t be ridiculous.” 

“I’m serious,” he whines, forehead against your shoulder now. “Want you all to myself. Don’t want share with the convenience store anymore.” 

He’s in no state to go anywhere, by the way he’s babbling. Just this once, you let him come with you. 

The streets are quiet these days. Maybe they can smell the spilled blood on the doorstep, a warning flag to anyone who comes into the convenience store. Or maybe the man who waits for you outside is the warning. 

“Anything interesting happen while I was gone?” 

He’s come to pick you up again, black helmet already outstretched to you. 

“No. You have anything to do with that?”

He smiles and leans in to brush his lips against your temple. “Everyone knows you’re off limits. You’re mine.” 

[k-marzolf]

Miss Fortune 🌟

Bffs, alcohol, diabetic reader, sexual fantasy, fluff, mentions of spanking, fem.

@e-dubbc11 @terry2227 @kayhi808 @firequeensposts @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @firexfate @rosaleenablack @idaofinfinity @milea @thejanecampaign @aoi-targaryen @danzer8705 @oops89 @fictional-hooman @bookloverfilmoholic @cant-help-simping @tortilla-chips-and-allioli @littleblackcatinwonderland @ittybxttykxttytxtty

“Can I have a quarter?” You asked, rocking back on your feet.

“For a fortune teller arcade? You believe in that nonsense? And don't you have one?” He asked, fishing in his jeans anyway.

“I’m saving up for my rooftop garden, Mister Cynical.” You said teasingly, kissing his cheek as he handed one to you. “It’ll probably never happen but I’m trying.” You leaned down putting the quarter in.

You were saving every dime, nickel, and quarter, for plants. “Why?” He asked, rolling his left shoulder. An unfamiliar ache in his chest. He rubbed it.

“I want something to talk to when you’re gone.” You placed your hand on the glowing crystal ball sensor.

His jaw ticked as he looked out the rainy window, nostrils flaring. Billy was holding back. He wanted to bunch your dress around your hips, and press you against the machine, mouth on yours tasting the Mountain Dew you had that weren’t supposed with your diabetes as he rutted into you shaking the machine, not caring who saw him take you, and god he knew you both would never be allowed back.

But you were a taste of heaven he’d never have.

“Billyyy…” he imagined you whining into his neck, “Wanna kiss you.”

The same words you’d said one summer evening, too many margaritas, your breath smelling like cherries.

He hummed. “If you’re a good girl,” he said, teasing you, sipping his beer.

Your cherry smile had his heart fluttering, as you leaned in. “I’m always good.” You said, pulling your fingers through his hair, making it stick up everywhere.

And then the woman’s voice on the machine brought him back.

He swallowed. Get a grip, Russo.

A week later a cactus sat on your countertop of your tiny apartment in the sun that had finally come out, the note attached to it said; “To Miss Fortune. The beginning of your rooftop garden — Mister Cynical.”

Your lips turned up, eying the cactus like it was a Tiffany necklace.

You named it Princess Leia and Billy laughed, pinching your nose, a warm feeling filled him as you shoved a spoonful of peanut butter in your mouth, cheeks warm as you watched him. “Sure, it is a little spiky like her.” Billy agreed.

“Mhm!” You said enthusiastically. “And you’d be the Wookiee.” You said, just to get a rise out of him.

“I’m taking that wooden spoon and spanking your ass.” Billy growled.

“All talk.” You said airily, watching him making his way over to you, and you squealed, throwing the peanut butter at him, and ran just dodging his arms, and running down the hall.

He never wanted to spend his life with anyone else, other than you and Frank.

Raven and Miss Fortune.

[kaunis-sielu]

Dangerous Places: 6

When you’re done with the bathroom you slowly make your way to the door. Captain is still in the bedroom, when you open the door he’d looked up.

“Alright, food?” He asks and you stare up at him, “you’ve gotta be hungry. It’s almost noon.”

“Oh, um food would be good.” You look past him and out the window. You can’t tell that it’s daytime out there, it’s unnerving.

“Alright, come on up Bunny.” He says holding out his arms before he gently scoops you up. You’re not sure where to look, you can’t look at him but it’s weird looking the way you’re walking. You settle on looking at your knees, the little scar there that you can see from when you were a kid and banged it open on the corner of the stairs.

Steve sets you down back on the counter. The way he so effortlessly carries you around is kind of astonishing.

“What do you want? We have,” he pulls open the fridge and frowns, “some beer. Don’t these animals eat?” He grumbles. “Alright Bunny, what do you want me to order in?”

“I don’t know.”

“Too many options.” He murmurs to himself and you’re surprised because that’s exactly what it is. “Okay, do you want Italian or Asian?”

“Italian?”

“Yea, pizza, pasta, that kind of stuff.”

“Italian please.”

“Okay, pasta or pizza?”

“Um, pizza please. Just cheese.” You haven’t eaten in a while so you don’t want to upset your stomach.

“Alright, I’ll get some actual groceries in here for you soon.”

“Okay.” It’s weird that he’s treating you so kindly, after all he did threaten you and kidnap you and is holding you hostage. So maybe he’s not being so kind after all.

“Alright, let’s make a list so that you can have food you like. Do you like to cook?”

“Yes.”

“Anything you need.”

“Where is my stuff?”

“Should be here later.” He says dismissively and it kind of pisses you off. You don’t dare say anything but you do glare at the floor in front of you. “Look at me.” His tone is gentle when he gives the command and you comply. “Oh Bunny.” He says with a grin, “I like seeing some fire from you. What’s got you bothered?”

“I can’t just live here without my shit. I need my phone and some other stuff.”

“You can’t have your phone.”

“Then you have to take me back to my apartment.” He sighs heavily,

“Bunny, we have gone over this. It isn’t happening.”

“I’m diabetic. I need my sensors, reader and medication.”

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” He looks irritated as he pulls his phone out of his pocket.

“I’m sorry it wasn’t just as easy as snatching a woman out of her bed!” You snap, and he smirks over at you.

“Buck, I have some stuff I need you to get now. No, now.” He looks up at you, “Bunny where’s your stuff?”

“Pens are in the fridge and my pills are in the bathroom in the mirror. The needles and alcohol wipes are in the second drawer in the bathroom and so are the sensors, they’re in boxes. I have some lancets and another sensor in my purse.” You tell him,

“You hear that Buck? Good. I want that here in the next twenty minutes.” He pauses then growls, “No, I’m not fuckin joking. Get it here.” The power of this man is truly stunning, and a little terrifying. You’re starting to feel like he might actually be different than Crossbones, but then you remember his “business” he had to take care of before you went to sleep.

They’re all the same, all sharp edges and violence.

He texts someone else then looks up at you,

“What do you want to do while we wait for food?”

“When did you order?”

“I texted one of the ladies our order. I thought you might like having a woman around.”

“Oh.” You didn’t know he had women, your opinion of him was correct he’s just like Crossbones.

“So, movie? Tv? Reading? Just sitting here in silence looking at one another? What do you want to do?”

“I don’t care.” You say gently, you won’t be fooled by a mob man again.

“I want you to be comfortable here. I know this isn’t where you want to be but if I can at least make you comfortable I will.”

“Oh,”

“You said actions right?” You nod, “so you’ll see. Why don’t we go to the couch, we can eat there too.” He sets you on the couch before dropping down a cushion away. He turns the tv on and starts switching through the channels. There’s a knock on the door and he calls,

“Come in.” So Winter does and he has your supplies. He brings them to you and you pull out what you need to test, you have a feeling that you’re low, you put the lancet in then place it on your finger and push the button. You test your blood sugar and sure enough you’re low, even worse the number is going lower.

“How are you?”

“Fine.” You lie and Steve hums lowly,

“Try again Bunny. The truth this time.”

“I’m low, but it’s fine.”

“What do you need? Juice? Candy?”

“Juice works.” You tell him, “um, apple?” Steve looks at Winter who nods and leaves again.

“Bunny, when it comes to your health you tell me what you need.”

“Yes, Captain. Steve. Sorry.”

“Good girl.” He says and your gaze snaps to his, a slow smirk crosses his face. “I wondered if you might like that.”

“I don’t.” You lie and he chuckles,

“Your eyes tell me different Bunny.” You glare at him and he grins over at you. There’s another knock at the door, this one seems softer, less aggressive than Winter.

“Come in.” The door opens and a pretty red headed woman pushes open the door.

“Hey Cap, you wanted some pizza? Oh, hello.” She says seeing you.

“Hi.”

“Widow, thanks for picking that up.” Steve says and she nods putting the two pizza boxes on the table.

“How are you doing Honey?” She asks but you don’t say anything, instead you glance over at Steve.

“You can talk to her Bunny.”

“I’m fine.” You lie and she looks between you and Steve.

“Cap, out.” She demands,

“But pizza.” He practically whines and you stare at him in absolute shock.

“Oh take the damn thing with you you big baby.” You stare at her in astonishment, she can’t just talk to him like that can she? Steve groans softly but stands from the couch, grabs one of the boxes of pizza and leaves the house.

Tag list:

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[indouloureux]

I love smut blurbs as much as the next person about eddie but what I love even more is domestic eddie. Like cooking breakfast or dinner together. Running around the grocery store throwing food in the basket just because it looks good. Him coming home from a long exhausting day of work and just rubbing his shoulders and starting his shower for him. Maybe on his days off you guys sleep in and then hop in his van and go for a ride outside of hawkin. Inviting Wayne over for dinner on Sundays and watching them drink beer and bond over cars etc. Listening to him and the dnd club argue over what's happening in the campaign. Idk fluffy domestic eddie really speaks to me on a whole different level.

domestic eddie has my heart, darling.

now, i'm not gonna lie, eddie will be a shit cook at first. but when you came home one time too exhausted, unable to cook bc you were the one who always cooks seeing as he can't cook for shit, he made sure to learn how to.

you'd come home and there's just an entire cooked chicken in the middle of the table. he said that chicken parts confused him and he just bought a whole one and bought a recipe book. to top it off, he made roasted potatoes. they were fucking amazing.

(also, he was clad in a pink, floral apron of yours, hair up in a messy bun, hands covered in oven mitts with tongs in his hand. it's such a sight to see.)

going to the grocery with him is another level. when he was with wayne, his wants were limited. he can only take two of those he wanted because money was short. but when you both got a job and had your own home and started earning adult money, well—

eddie would be pushing the cart, jumping and hopping on it as he moves, would beg constantly to let you buy him the sweet, almost diabetic cereals there is. would chuck in an entire gallon of ice cream, beers of different brands, and just full out processed foods because, lets be honest, sometimes he doesn't eat healthily.

when he comes home from work, exhausted, you'd urge him to lay down on his stomach at the couch, you sitting on his thighs and just cracking his back and he MOANS LIKE A WHORE istfg. but as much as it turns you on, poor baby is tired and you just want to, well, baby him.

get his shower ready, get with him in the tub, relax him with a few strokes down there and an orgasm, before you guys let your eyes go dry from watching endless tv while you cuddle in the sofa.

one thing he loves is roadtrips. you guys would both leave anytime of the day—no clothes, just money and snacks, and drive wherever; listening to music, fucking in the back of his van, kissing the back of your hand as he drives with one hand outside of town. hearing you sing as you kick your feet up the dashboard with the windows down, and he just stares at you like you're the most beautiful human being in existence.

wayne would come over every sunday. always. you guys would drink beer, watch a movie or play board games (queue sore loser eddie playing monopoly) and talk about your childhood while eddie has an arm around you and you just converse with his uncle with a bright smile (eddie thinking right then and there that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you).

the kids would come over too! movie nights with them, sometimes playing dnd and you're just relaxing at the sofa while they yell and argue and just swoon when eddie DMs.

dancing around wherever you want to. he'd sing you songs that aren't metal. turning the radio on and spinning you around in the middle of the kitchen when you're cooking or when it's morning and you're drinking coffee.

helping you paint the walls when you first moved in. having a very messy paint fight—that sometimes would lead to an actual fight on which color of the wall you guys would choose.

CUDDLES WHENEVER YOU WANT TO. in the living room, sitting on his lap when he sits on the kitchen island, in your bedroom. all that shit.

sometimes you both would walk around naked just for the fun of it. because you guys live together. eating while walking, smoking, and while he no longer deals, he still smokes weed with you.

i cant think of anything else. my pinkies had gone numb coedodneoxndoe i love domestic eddie :(

[stardust-sunset]

kyle would not be chubby. absolutely no disrespect to other anon, hdc whatever you want, i just cannot see it given his canon character traits. kyle seems like the kind of guy that takes his physical health very seriously, and it’s kind of obvious that he feels a certain way about being overweight. i’m not saying he’s outwardly fatphobic toward anyone but cartman, but i am saying that deep down he would be afraid of being fat (based on his own mom being overweight and how everyone treats cartman) so yes, he’d have some internalized fatphobia. he’s the kind of guy that’s like “well if you’re unhappy with your weight you should work out and eat better, being healthy is important🤓👆” and because he had so many health issues as a kid, i see him as having mild health ocd and using exercise as a way to relieve the anxiety that comes with that. he’s also insecure about other parts of his appearance like his hair and nose, so i see him working really hard on his physique so he can have something about himself that he’s confident in. he’s also arguably the sportiest of the boys, he genuinely enjoys physical activity, and every time we see the broflovskis eating dinner it’s something like salmon and vegetables. genetics don’t just automatically make you overweight if you’re actively doing things to stay at a caloric deficit.

and then in post covid he is so obviously the fittest and tallest among all of his male ex classmates, barring tolkien (adult tolkien is absolutely jacked, argue with the wall) so we can assume he carried his healthy habits into adulthood.

fit kyle is basically canon. sleeper build kyle is the best hdc. and NO SKINNY STAN you can rip sexy beer-bellied post covid stan from my cold dead hands!!!

yeah, i can’t really see him being chubby. i can see him being baby faced throughout middle school, but i can’t see him being chubby.

but i can see him being a little bit ocd about health. probably not really a mentality of ‘i don’t wanna end up like my mom or cartman’, maybe he does have a bit of an internalized fatphobia, but i can kinda see him also having a mentality that ‘my immune system is already fucked up, im diabetic and unhealthy health wise, i don’t wanna be unhealthy weight wise’. i think it’d be a mix of both, unfortunately.

stan wouldn’t be skinny. randy would probably have him eating ‘rich people food’ or maybe it’s just simple genetics. i dunno. i can see stan being somewhat fit in high school, but in college, that’s another story.

[ask-sibverse]

T1D Reader- Halloween Party (Bad Sanses X Reader)

I was hoping to get this out yesterday but shit happens. Halloween costume probably looks like this. Honestly while doing Killer and Horror is so much fun, this time it's Dust's turn.

Note to self: never underestimate Killer's persistence. When that skeleton wants something he can be incredibly stubborn about it.

And what he wanted was for everyone to get a "day off" to celebrate Halloween. Why? You weren't sure at first until you noticed all the sexy costumes pulled up on his computer.

Note to self: never underestimate Killer's persistence. When that skeleton wants something he can be incredibly stubborn about it.

And what he wanted was for everyone to get a "day off" to celebrate Halloween. Why? You weren't sure at first until you noticed all the sexy costumes pulled up on his computer.

But you agreed to come along, if only to keep Killer out of trouble. Cross seemed to agree for a similar reason, although you weren't sure why Dust came along. Horror was staying home, which made sense. A party would probably be hell on his sensory issues.

Killer somehow managed to talk you into a fairly revealing "witch costume." You were just hoping it wouldn't be too cold in the AU you were going to, although Killer probably wouldn't register it was too cold for you.

Lazy ass usual, Dust was just using his knife as a "serial killer" costume. Killer used one of those axe headbands and (probably, hopefully) fake blood to be a "murder victim." Killer, asshole that he is, picked out a cow costume for Cross that was *immediately* denied, and the former royal guard ended up wearing a soldier costume instead that Killer complained was "so boring."

You all went to a surface AU, obviously, because monsters underground did not know about or celebrate Halloween (honestly you wondered if some monsters found the holiday insensitive.) A neutral AU, one with some tension between monsters and humans, but nothing so bad a couple monsters couldn't attend a Halloween party.

Once arriving you remembered one reason you never went to parties- alcohol. You never drank, couldn't figure out how to manage it and your diabetes. You'd heard how you behaved low was how you would act while drunk, but different sources said to bolus for it or not bolus. Some said you'd spike, others said you'd drop, it was just too unpredictable for your tastes and not worth the risks. Killer respected that, sort of, after telling him "no" several times. You... Really couldn't tell if Killer was *actually* drink or just liked acting drunk. Dust seemed to have a beer or two himself while Cross was with you in the "100% sober" category.

At least the food was good. The host had fun making "spooky" snacks that were still recognizable enough for you to dose correctly. At least it was human food, monster food still needed a whole other layer of guesstimating.

Somewhere later into the night you grabbed Dust and dragged him into a dance. Maybe the atmosphere, maybe your outfit, but something had you tired of being a wallflower and wanting to *do* something. You weren't an amazing dancer but you were at least coordinated enough to avoid tripping over yourself or Dust. It wasn't a Dancetale so your skills weren't that important anyways.

It wasn't long before Dust's face was flushed, whether from exertion or something else you weren't sure. The skeleton often kept to distance attacks in fights and teleported everywhere, so you weren't sure.

Even still, seeing him blushing made you feel... Something. You were *definitely* feeling bold tonight because before you knew it, you leaned in and kissed him.

You've kissed other humans before, but kissing a skeleton was such an incredibly different experience. Despite your lips being pressed directly to teeth, it wasn't uncomfortable at all. Honestly, it felt amazing, even more so when Dust's mouth opened slightly and oh stars okay ecto tongues felt *great.*

You both ended up off the dance floor for a rather steamy and handsy makeout session that had both of you flushed and panting afterwards. Dust grinned at you. "Wanna continue this back in my room?" You nodded eagerly.

Dust got Cross to tear a portal home for you both, although he was staying behind to make sure Killer got home eventually.

The two of you barely made it to Dust's room before he was making out with you again, tearing at your clothes with a passion and energy you hadn't seen in the lazy skeleton before. Honestly, sex with him was incredible.

And totally worth the look you got from Nightmare the next day. And the teasing from Killer.

(I know you guys probably want the sexy times, but honestly diabetes + sex is something I had planned for it's own one shot, so pls be patient. If you have any prompts or ideas for T1D, shoot me an ask!)

[thezombieprostitute]

Alphas & Algorithms - Part 4 - Bets & warnings

A/N: Continued from Part 3. Reader is female and is described as "tall". No other descriptors.

Warnings: It is a Dystopian AU. Food scarcity, hunger, mentions of families being separated. Please let me know if I missed any!

--Part 1-- --Part 5--

--Series Masterlist--

“He’s not interested in me,” Y/N tells Jake as they cuddle up on her couch. “He’s going to come back for our next date and tell me he’s not interested. I know it.”

“You don’t know that,”Jake reassures. “He could just need some time to think. You said yourself that he talked about feeling like a fish out of water more than once.”

“I’m telling you, he’s not interested. I don’t have the highest accuracy of predictions for nothing.” Y/N sighs and pushes to prop herself up. “Maybe the other Omegas are right. Maybe I’m just too boring. Too plain vanilla.”

Jake squeezes Y/N tightly, not letting her escape, “I keep telling you not to listen to them. They’re jealous idiots who just don’t appreciate the kindness and gentleness your scent embodies. Their scents clash with everything around them but vanilla goes with everything. And that’s how you’re able to pick up on stuff they can’t. Your scent works with the people you question, letting them relax more around you, which gets you an even better idea of their true scent. Your empathy is not a weakness, no matter what those assholes say.”

“I know how the mechanics of it work, Jake.” Y/N tries to pull away to pout but he holds her close. “And I know it helps others to be accurate with scents. But…it’s…It gets painfully lonely to be pushed away by others of “your kind”. I love having you as a friend, Jake, but with you as my only friend, it’s a lot of pressure on you. I know you’re stressed out, but still smiling at me. I appreciate the effort but you shouldn’t be the only one supporting me.”

“And when you get your Alpha, I won’t be.” Y/N gives Jake an incredulous look as he continues. “Seriously, you doubt but I’m certain Curtis will be back and, as he learns more about you, he’ll fall desperately, madly in love with you and you’ll have both your Emotional Support Beta and your Alpha Mate!”

“I do appreciate the optimism, Jake but it just isn’t going to happen. At least not with Curtis. Maybe that other Alpha will work out better. So long as I don’t have to do any more of those scent tests.”

“I’ll make you a deal. If Curtis turns you down, I’ll cook up that 5-cheese mac-n-cheese you love so much. If he ends up agreeing to be your mate, you gotta bake me up that death-by-chocolate cake that almost put me into a diabetic coma.”

Y/N chuckles and decides to up the ante. “Add barbecue chicken strips to that mac-n-cheese meal and I’ll add homemade chocolate whipped cream to the cake.”

“Deal!”

It’d been a couple days since the date and the benefits of the full stomach and foot massage had already faded. Curtis felt the pain in his stomach again and every step was pain yet again. Y/N’s cookies were already gone, courtesy of the pups, but he couldn’t blame them. They generally couldn’t afford such calorie dense, sweet foods. He did hope that Y/N’s promise of more ration packs for his nutritional needs would hold true, though it was way too soon to tell. Hopefully his refutation of her courting wouldn’t affect her promise. 

After only a few hours of work Curtis caught a whiff of someone. Curry. Warm, strong beer. Hobie. “What do you want, Hobie? I’m working.”

“From what I heard, you’ve been gettin’ it on with a Pet.” Hobie stepped into Curtis’s view. 

“I’ll be seeing her again tomorrow and telling her I’m not interested. She gave me the out, I’m taking it.”

“Ya don’ wanna do that,” Hobie whispers. “I got it on good authority, you’re gonna wanna take her up on the offer.”

Curtis stops what he’s doing so he can turn to Hobie. He sees the man is dead serious. “What do you mean?”

Without speaking, Hobie hands Curtis a small pouch with some fabric inside. Eyes not leaving Hobie, Curtis opens it and gets the scent. Stevie! His brother’s scent, and fresh! 

Hobie sees the recognition on Curtis’s face, “that’s right, bruv is alive. Been ‘elping us out against The Man.”

“And what’s that got to do with me? I can’t rescue him. Probably can’t see him even if I do accept the offer.”

“We got ya covered there,” Hobie grins. “Stevie’s been ‘olding off the next phase of our plan. Wants to make sure ‘is Pack is protected first. That’s where you come in. Stevie made sure to get your scent added to ev’ry Pet’s list of potential mates, waitin’ for one to choose you. You wanna protect your Pack? Keep ‘em outta harm’s way from The Man and The Revolution? You agree to the Pet’s terms.”

Curtis stared at the fabric for a bit, cementing the scent in his mind. When he looked back up, Hobie was gone. How he had the ability to both draw attention and go invisible was Curtis would never understand. When he saw the security drone coming towards him, he hid the fabric in his pocket and went back to work. He was going to have to have another Pack meeting before tomorrow and he was not looking forward to it.

After the pups had gone to bed for the night, Curtis sat down with Andrew and Tanya. He handed them the pouch without saying anything and watched the recognition grow in their faces as they caught the scent. 

“Oh. Oh no,” Tanya whispered as she looked at Curtis. “You’re going to leave us, aren’t you?”

“Not until I get more evidence of Hobie’s claims,” Curtis whispered. “It’s one thing to know he’s alive, it’s another to know…” He cuts himself off. The less information his Pack has about the revolution’s plans (hypothetical or otherwise) the better.

Andrew looks at Curtis, “he’s your brother. Pack by blood. You know we’ll respect that.”

Curtis nods. It’s an uneasy night of sleep for all of them.

--Part 5--

Tagging @every-username-is-taken-damnit, per request.

[p-artsypants]

This has been on my mind for a while so I have a question:

If you’ve never heard of it, Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome is pretty much just what it sounds like. It is when a woman develops cysts on her ovaries, or has the potential to. These cysts often throw hormonal balance out of whack throughout the entire body. Pregnancy-like symptoms can occur, as well as heightened testosterone levels.

Common symptoms of PCOS are:

Excessive body or facial hair

Insulin resistance that causes rapid weight gain and weight that can’t be shed even with proper diet and exercise

Excessive weight around the gut, a beer belly or inner tube

Hair loss on head

Irregular or entirely missing periods

Intense sugar cravings

Depression

And of course, painful ovarian cysts

There is no cure for PCOS yet, but there are treatments. If you suspect PCOS, get your hormones checked. Talk to a doctor. Estrogen-progesterone birth control may help, as well as Metformin (an insulin resistance drug for diabetics)

It is not considered genetic, but I disagree.

I am not a doctor, but I have PCOS and I’ve been doing a lot of research to help clear up my issues. I hadn’t been able to lose weight even with a healthy diet and regular 20 minute bike rides. It’s frustrating and debilitating. I thought that I was just stuck, but talking to my doctor gave me hope.

I know several other girls with PCOS (every woman on my dad’s side of the family) with all different struggles.

What’s your story?

[callsignspirit]

come back home | j.h.s. | chapter one

a/n - devil works fast but i write faster, introducing a purple hearts au!! thought this could be fun to write! let me know if you guys want more i.b. purple hearts obviously

tw - men being gross, jake being a DICK but it’s okay we can change him ;)

caitlyn tapped her pen against the bars railings. she was in the process of writing a new song, or trying to at least. she was debating going over to the piano to try and work on a tune but her train of thought was interrupted by penny’s words.

“if you want a share of the tip pot you’ll have to help me wipe down these counters” she spoke, tossing cait a spray bottle and a cloth.

sighing, she sprung into action, cleaning the sticky beer residue off the wooden counter tops and gently humming a tune to an unfinished song.

the bar was practically empty, only a few early patrons milling around waiting for the crowds to come flooding in. the godforsaken crowds. filled with fresh aviators ready to go on their first deployment.

she spent the next hour doing odd jobs for penny, restocking the bottles, checking the celler and dusting the piano even though it was never out of use long to collect dust between cait's song writing and the playing of popular naval anthems.

the bell rang on the door as 7 or 8 fresh faced aviators strutted through the entrance, joshing around and hitting each other in the arm playfully.

"oh god," cait complained, throwing her head back in protest, penny remarked some comment about how the aviators were her new best friends.

however through the crowd, a familiar face spotted cait as the bar. "hey stranger!" he called, pushing his way past the men.

"bradley!" cait excitedly shrieked, leaving the middle of the bar to throw her arms around him. she slapped his chest, "i missed you!"

he laughed at her, "i've missed you too caitie." the pair had grown up together, bradley occasionally babysitting cait, despite their small age difference. she was there for him when his mom died, when pete pulled his papers and he was there for her when her dad walked out, leaving cait and her mom alone.

she stroked his face, "what's with this mustache? i am not okay with this!" she giggled. although she was enjoying catching up with bradley, she could feel the eyes of his friends on her, on her body. "well, introduced me to your squadron!"

he went through the names, introducing each member as his friend, she could see their toxic masculinity practically seeping through their pores. cait took their orders and walked back to the bar, collecting the various drinks and arranging them on the tray.

when she looked over to group, she saw bradley harshly scolding "berlin”, one of the younger pilots, shaking his head in disapproval. she hoped that whatever dispute was going on between the two wouldn’t affect their deployment.

she made her way over to the table and she set the drinks down pushing them towards their respective owners.

“so we’re good enough to fight for your ass, but not touch it?” berlin spoke up, striking silence into the other men. clearly bradley had told them her ‘no military men’ rule.

“excuse me?” cait challenged, raising her eyebrow. she decided instead of causing a scene to just walk away.

rolling her eyes, she worked on serving other customers, making small talk and chatting with them about their day. she uncapped beer bottles and stuffed the lids in her pocket, a habit she had picked up from her first night, now, at home she had a small collection.

her heeled boots clicked along the floor as she made her way to the back, penny suggested a few minutes break to cool off and to drink some glucose gel to raise her blood sugar. dealing with diabetes was hard but it was that much when some man tried to hit on her.

after a few minutes she had calmed down and was ready to serve again, she led the storage room to find “hangman” standing at the bar.

“i just want to apologise for our friend,” he said, “he’s a bit… my names jake, what’s yours?” he offered his hand out to cait, almost as a peace offering. she turned the other way walking to the opposite side of the bar, but jake was relentless.

“don’t think i don’t know your type.” he stated bluntly.

“my type?” cait asked, genuinely interested as to what group this man would brand her into.

“yeah, the girl who drives a lexus and probably has a million different flags hanging from her windowsill in support, but when it actually comes down to fighting for those groups, you’re no where to be seen! cause ‘guns and bombs are mean’ and you’re a pacifist”

“i’m sorry do you have a phd in mansplaining?”

“i guess it’s our job to fight for you!” he cut her off, “you know what i bet you even have a little peace dove tattooed on your back!”

“actually it’s on my ass, which you can’t touch but you can kiss!” she argued, walking off yet again to the other side of the bar to escape him.

jake looked over to the group and saw them mimicking explosions and laughing at him.

[eva-knits12]

Thanksgiving with Chris Evans characters.

Steve Rogers:

Steve has never had a modern Thanksgiving, thanks to him being in the ice for so long.

He's impressed by a modern Thanksgiving.

Some foods confuse him.

What's a tofurkey?

is it some kind of weird food?

You explain that a tofurkey is for vegans.

Steve has NEVER heard of a vegan Thanksgiving.

Remember, veganism wasn't a thing when Steve was growing up in the 1920's and 1930's.

Thanksgiving doesn't feel complete without Bucky and Sam.

Sam brings his famous candied yams, which is really a family recipe.

Bucky brings his family's famous cranberry relish.

Your stuck cooking the meal while the boys watch the Lions and the Packers.

(I live in the Detroit area, and trust me, that game is HUGE around here, since the Detroit Lions actually started this tradition.)

You wanted to cook the meal with Steve, but with Bucky and Sam, that plan went out the window.

At least you can have wine while you cook the meal, so there's that.

The boys are drinking Sam Adams Oktoberfest while watching the football game.

Eventually, the dinner is finally ready, and everyone digs in-after Steve says the blessing.

Dessert is pumpkin pie with vanilla ice cream.

The dinner is eaten, and after the game, and after dinner, everyone plays Monopoly and Scrabble.

Beer and wine are drunk during both games.

You and Steve spend the next day watching movies in bed.

Screw going out on Black Friday.

Black Friday also confuses Steve, seeing as how Black Friday is a more recent thing.

Cyber Monday also confuses Steve.

Luckily, you and Steve have a whole DVR full of movies, so the computer, phones, and tablets are turned off from Thanksgiving to Sunday.

Thanksgiving is great.

Colin Shea:

Colin and Eva decide to just have a low key Thanksgiving at their house.

As much as it as about family and football, Colin and Eva just want to have a nice, chill Thanksgiving dinner at their apartment.

Which is good for the both of them, because Eva's having her period right now, feels crampy and bloated, and just wants to chill in bed or on the couch.

Colin and Eva sip wine and are cooking the turkey. The sides will be instant stuffing and instant mashed potatoes.

Along with ready bake rolls.

Colin cooks the dinner while Eva sleeps on the couch.

Colin sees and carries Eva bridal style back to the bedroom, and places her on the bed, then put the covers over her.

Colin cooks the rest of the meal, and then wakes Eva.

The dinner looks amazing and smells amazing.

Eva forgot about her cramps.

The meal is eaten, and the wine is drunk.

Colin and Eva have pumpkin chocolate cake for dessert.

Colin and Eva brush their teeth and fall asleep that night.

Andy Barber:

Andy usually cooks the meal.

He always cooked the meal, but when he was still married to Laurie, Laurie and Jacob just didn't care.

With you, it's different.

You, Joy, and Penelope are usually in your PJ's, curled up on the couch, and watching movies while Andy cooks.

You're checking your sugar, and Andy brings you snacks, and water and juice.

Andy LOVES cooking the Thanksgiving meal.

He LOVES cooking, period.

You and Joy drink water, while Andy drinks wine.

Penelope is happily sleeping in her infant swing.

You've already fed and burped her.

Joy loves the turkey, the green bean casserole, the cranberry sauce, and the rolls.

Penelope loves your milk.

For dessert, Andy made you a small pumpkin pie for dessert that's diabetic friendly.

You, Andy, Joy, and Penelope watch A Christmas Story and The Polar Express.

You and the girls fall asleep after The Polar Express is over.

Andy carries Penelope and puts her in her crib.

Andy carries Joy, and then helps her pee, brush her teeth, then carries her to bed, and tucks her in.

Andy reads The Polar Express to Joy.

Andy checks your Dexcom, and wakes you up.

Your sugar is really low, so Andy gives you a glass of juice and a granola bar.

He then checks your Dexcom again, and your sugar is back to normal.

Andy makes sure you check your Dexcom before going to sleep.

Andy and you both fall asleep.

Jake Jensen:

Thanksgivng? More like Gamesgiving.

You cook the entire meal, while Jake is busy playing video games.

But, you'll make up for it later when you binge watch all the Star Wars and Marvel movies this weekend.

Maybe that's too big a plan?

Nah, Christmas will be for watching Dr. Who and Harry Potter.

"Dinner already smells good, honey bun."

You are smiling while you're cooking, and sipping wine.

Okay, you're sipping it from the bottle, but still.

Since Jake proposed on your birthday, you can't wait to make the announcement to both his and your family.

Jake's niece and sister arrive, along with your brother and his family.

Jake's niece and your nephew are busy kicking the soccer ball that his niece brought outside.

The rest of the adults-with the exception of Jake-are watching the football game.

The dinner is finally cooked, and you and Jake announce that you're engaged.

The rest of the dinner goes by in a blur.

You and Jake go to sleep after everyone leaves.

Johnny Storm:

Johnny is on his best behavior.

He went from bad boy to becoming an adult since he met you.

He wants to make a good impression with your parents, since you're going home for the first time in a year.

Johnny is coming with you, and this is the first time he's meeting your family.

Johnny went to the local Kroger's and got wine, and even got flowers from a local florist.

You look at your engagement ring, and realize that you made the right choice.

Johnny has grown up a lot.

At dinner, you and Johnny announce the engagement, and that you're planning the wedding at Disney.

You announce that you got engaged at Disney.

Johnny wants to watch the game with your dad and your uncles, but your mom and your aunts kidnap him, and have to know every single detail.

You and Johnny tell the story of how Johnny put you on a scavenger hunt at Disney, and how you were given a clue from each character that lead you to Cinderella's castle.

A fun time is had by all.

Your cousin's kid want to play with Johnny.

You go back to New York on Monday.

Thanksgiving was great, and low key.

[im-dead-still]

People that think their life is over at like, 50 and dont try to learn anything new or develop as a person are just so sad. Like no dude. You have like, 30, 40, even 50 years left, and u think that u dont need to develop as a person???

Like my dad thinks that simply because of his age, he doesnt need to learn about anything new, and that its too late for him to become a better person (which he really needs) and its so sad. He also thinks hes old enough to excuse health, which is just generally concerning? Like i have a piece of chocolate and he says im gonna “give myself diabetes” but literally each night he eats a full packet of cookies and drinks at least two beers a day. Like what.

Whereas my mum is the complete opposite. Shes the same age as my dad, but shes currently completing university to become a counselor because she realised she wants to be. Shes also obsessed with self improvement, she wants to become a better person, she wants to improve her health. Obviously shes far from perfect. She can be single minded on certain topics and she gets really bad anxiety, to the point it affects the people around her, but she knows this and shes trying to improve. Shes even trying to get back into driving because she stopped driving because of anxiety, and shes been trying to start again.

My dad is just so sad.