#STOP THIS SHITTY FIGHTING LIKE AN OLD COUPLE

[mrskillingjoke]

Alrighty, almost done with the fourth season of Gotham.

And where do I start?

Well in the First few episodes everything was very... tenseful.

On the good Side Standing: Selina and every Woman who Proofs that she is a lesbians Queen. (Cough Ivy cough)

And now the tenseful Things:

I mean, Eddie and Oswald hate each other... Some way i guess... Oswald put his Love on ice... Hehe

Harvey and Jim do have some problems in bed... Or else I can't explain the fully horny straight Boy Jim...

Lee... Well she is between rational and irrational the whole time now... But looking hot tho

Bruce and Alfred fighting a lot... And Alfred didn't See anyone of His boyfriends... Jim or Lucius...

And from this Point it's only gettin' worse.

Harvey and Jim fight and broke Up...

Bruce and Alfred Fight and broke Up...

Lee was gettin' Hurt.

Carmine Falcone gets murdered.

Oswald was gettin' Hurt.

Oh my dear Baby Oswald... He lost everything. It was gettin' better a bit when Martin came Up but... He gets betrayed the whole time.

Zsasz, my pansexual King-Queen, I'm still Mad at you for leaving and betraying penguin. It's Not a Personal Thing, I know, but still...

And then everything went better. Even very good!

Sofia Falcone got Shot... Finally!

Harvey and Jim talked with each other and decided to be husbands again.

Bruce admit that alfred's His father.

Riddler is in Love with Oswald so they hooked Up together and sacrificed stuff for each other (cough thats what Eddie called 'love' cough)

Jerome came back and Jeremiah came.

Hatter, crane and Well the whole Crew... Was everything I needed to Just to be Happy again.

All my favourite Gays came Back together and this was an so exciting Thing... Every Moment of it.

I could say so much more about it... But... I'm too lazy for it...

[deadsetobsessions]

Danny no longer has a haunt. So… he decides to find another one. And while he technically has a whole world (other dimensions aren’t an option because he’s going to stay near where Jazz’s grave is, damn it) there’s only a couple of other places with enough ambient ectoplasm to sustain him. Nanda Parbat, Tokyo, and Gotham.

Nanda Parbat had a weird old musty immortal that kept trying to summon him and exchange power for the ability to “take a worthy body and rain as much destruction” as he’d like. As if Danny would need a body to bring the world to its knees.

Tokyo… it’s too far from Jazz’s grave. He could ask Wulf or even open his own portal but when Danny tried it out, Tokyo was too peaceful. Obviously there’s crime, but nothing… nothing big like Danny’s used to.

Danny ends up picking Gotham, even if the sewer zombies and the weird group of rich fruit loops with an adoption problem creeps him out. So, he destroys the portal, packs up his parents’ house and sells it, and hauls ass to the cesspool calling his name. His family’s stuff is stored respectfully in a vault located on the deepest parts of his personal haunt in the Infinite Realms.

And honestly, he’s doing better. Sure, he’s got a shitty apartment near another revenant’s almost-haunt and he feels like he’s drowning all of the time, but Danny isn’t in danger of turning into Dan, he’s catching up on royal paperwork, and he’s got like a job as a barista. In his own coffee shop that paid for using his parent’s money (who, despite their hazardous everything, made a crap ton of money off of their more normal inventions).

Gotham’s got some pretty interesting local gangs, most of which respected the sanctity of Danny’s cafe. Sure, they tried blowing it up and tried extorting money from him in the form of “protection costs” but after three months of failure, they gave up.

(Really, the local gangs gave up when they saw him take three shotgun shells to the chest and continued to work.) (They didn’t know it never hit him. Intangibility is extremely useful.)

The Rogues, on the other hand, just gave Danny flashbacks. Their gimmicks are different, sure, but after years of Box Ghost, Skuller, Lunch Lady, etc., Danny’s more than done with costumed villains. They don’t bother him either. Some of the reason is probably due to Harley and Ivy, who had walked into the cafe and (because they were bruised and scratched up from a fight) triggered Danny’s mother hen tendencies. They were promptly fed and watered and caffeinated and their hyenas were also similarly taken care of. They declared the cafe under their protection and that was that.

Red Hood stops by, and begins to interrogate him. But when Danny met his… helmet eyes? The crime lord paused, paid for his coffee, and sat in a corner table of the cafe for the rest of the day.

And he kept coming back?

But Danny figures it’s because Hood was a revenant and people who had come close to death tends to feel more comfortable around him.

(Considering this is Gotham where people almost die every other day? Yeah, he’s pretty much friends with everyone. Or at least, less likely to get shot.)

(Hood does stay because of the King’s presence and the Pit calming itself, but also Danny’s hot and he’s got a sleeper build and Hood definitely did not imagine himself in the place of the heavy box he saw Danny lift effortlessly onto a table. No.)

But of course, the peace couldn’t last forever. But by then, Danny was so antsy, he welcomed the trouble with open arms.

It starts with a clown. Danny knows who he is. He knows who Danny is.

So, Danny has no idea why the clown thought it would be a good idea to aggravate the owner of Gotham’s official neutral grounds. See, Clovkwork? Danny’s learned how to gauge his own political importance!

“HAHAHAHAHA! COME OUT, DANNY-BOY! LET ME TELL YOU A JOKE!”

Danny comes out and grabs a chair, and with a flat expression, says, “you’re not funny and I hate clowns.”

And then he swings and slams the chair into the Joker’s face. Over and over again until Danny’s sure the clown won’t get back up. The thing about Gotham’s outdoor chairs is that they’re mad out of steel and are bolted down to the ground to prevent undedicated thieves (dedicated thieves can and will steal the bolted down steel chairs). The Joker’s hired muscle just watched this scrawny twenty-something year old yank the steel chair and take some of the fucking ground and the bolts with it and beat the fuck out of their boss who is the literal Joker.

They surrender on the spot and is taken to jail. Danny just smiles at the officers who come by and since he’s got pretty privilege and they don’t want to mess with the guy who, again, owns one of Gotham’s official neutral ground and also beat up Joker without breaking a sweat, the officers just lets him go with a warning.

And then the bats comes, and wow, Danny’s playing mentor to a formally dead person again!

But before that, the Red Hood asks for an autograph on the Gotham Gazette article with a picture of a tired Danny standing over Joker’s prone body. Then Hood stammers through asking Danny out (which Danny said yes to because he’s tired, not blind, and Hood is built like a brick house and HOT).

Batman interrogates him. Danny, who can tell that this man needs therapy and is Sad TM, tells Bats that Danny’s died before and that’s why he’s like this. He also calls Batman a furry, but like in a nice way. And then he kicks Batman out with a coffee and a file on Nanda Parbat.

Now, Danny’s got a date to prepare for and he realizes that maybe this is what Jazz wanted for him- to be happy and mostly safe and happy. (Or, happier, he thinks. It’s been a long time since he’s been truly happy, but this might be a good start)

[dickheadcanons]

So the timeline is contradictory in many places, but what makes the most sense to me is:

Dick is fairly newly 9 y/o when his parents die. He meets a 26 year old Bruce, who has been Batman for 1 year.

He is Robin for nearly a decade, until he’s fired at 18 y/o

Jason meets Bruce at 13, and is Robin til he’s 15. He’s 5 years younger than Dick. Note that he is 23 years younger than 36 y/o Bruce, a gap that suits their more parental relationship.

Tim is 13 y/o when he finds Dick again. He and Dick met when he was 2 y/o and the Grayson’s death is his earliest memory (to the point where he thought it was a dream for many years). They have a 7 year difference.

Tim is Robin until he’s 17 and Damian becomes Robin at 10 y/o. Dick is 24-25, and Jason is 19-20.

This allows a couple of fun things. The first is that Jason was a shitty teenager in UTRH which is just kind of funny. The second is that the Damian-Dick-Bruce parallel can exist, but also a Damian-Tim-Dick parallel, which I think is almost juicier. Dick was the perfect older brother to Tim, and yet Tim and Damian’s relationship is nothing like that. Tim is no longer Robin, but he’s also no longer the baby, which is almost harder. And I think is a reminder of how tiny Damian is at introduction. Tim is on the verge of high school when he becomes Robin. Damian is in 5th grade. And Dick is 25 trying to stop them from fighting.

[sargeant-bxrnes]

late night

summary: your boyfriend visits you after your stressful week, only to find you asleep. will that stop him? not at all. [requested!]

warnings!!: free use kink, he’s a freak tbh, but it’s billy so it checks out. | SMUT: fingering, dirty talk, slight degradation, hair pulling, praise, orgasm denial, unprotected sex. ROUGH sex.

word count: 1.9K

my masterlist | my requests are OPEN

Your week had been exhausting, stressing and overall, a mess. So many shitty things had happened that by the time Friday came you had no social battery or temptation to go out, all you wanted to do was sleep in your comfy bed, at your own place, and not worry about a thing.

Unbeknownst to you, Billy was standing outside your bedroom door, taking a peek. Originally he'd came over to your place to check up on you since you hadn't picked up his calls, however he didn't expect to see you like that, sprawled in your bed, cuddling a pillow, almost naked if it weren't for his own shirt.

Your fan had broken a couple of weeks ago, and since you were lacking cash to replace it, your bedroom was one hell of a furnace, even if the window was open, which is why you slept in nothing but one of Billy's old shirts, no panties, no bra. Your boyfriend's shirt was an oversized fit to you, so you were covered enough to not care about anything while you took a nap.

He tried, but he couldn't resist his thoughts or impulses any longer, he opened slowly the door and walked inside your bedroom without making a sound. In your sleep, you nuzzled your head against the pillow, laying on your tummy comfortably, legs slightly spread for comfort and an attempt to fight off the summer heat.

Billy stepped slowly on the cold floor, avoiding to create any noise.— his hands moved gracefully across your mattress, reaching your soft skin, his fingertips barely touching up your thigh, as he approached closer and closer to your pussy. He didn't held back, you two had a mutual agreement about free use.

Billy softly nudged your right thigh to your right, to spread your legs until they were wide enough, exposing your perfect pussy. His finger touched tentatively, and he bit back a moan when he felt the wetness, he slipped his middle finger inside with ease, beginning to move it slowly.

Upon the sensation, you moaned in your sleep, already starting to wake up, the familiar scent of Billy's cologne reached your nostrils, which is why you didn't panic, once he sensed you were more awake, he slid his ring finger in as well, slowly pumping them in and out, the squelching sounds of your wetness were sinful.

Slowly, you took a hold of your right thigh and moved it up higher, giving him more access to your pussy while you did the bare minimum, still slightly drowsy, smiling lazily at your boyfriend. "You're a jerk, I can't even have a good night sleep."

"I know, I'm the biggest jerk but you love me for it. It's okay to suffer a little bit for your man." He taunted you and started fucking you faster with his fingers, making sure his fingertips massaged your G-spot every now and then.

Your immediate reaction was to moan slightly louder against the pillow, he knew exactly how to work his fingers in a way that had you satisfied but begging for more at the same time.

"That's it, love your jerk boyfriend." He whispered in your ear, teasingly biting your earlobe as he curled his fingers right over your g-spot and began to rub your clit with his thumb.

The pleasure was so good, it was deliciously overwhelming, you let out a whimper. "I don't know if I love you or hate you for this."

"You love me. If you didn't, would I be inside of you like this? No, my sweet girl... God, you're so pretty it hurts." He kept teasing and taunting you with a satisfied smirk as he thrust his fingers in and out faster while rubbing your clit harder, with the purpose of driving you closer and closer to your orgasm.

His efforts were paying off, your moans grew louder, your hips having their own will as they moved closer to his hand, wanting to feel his fingers deeper inside you.

"Fuck, you're so needy." He placed one hand on your hips to keep them in place as he relentlessly fucked you with his fingers while rubbing your clit harder.

"Says the one who came to my place in the middle of the night to fuck me." You couldn't help but bite back, despite the overwhelming amount of pleasure coursing through your body.

"And I'll keep coming to fuck you anytime, anywhere." He growls as he picks up the pace, his fingers digging deeper into your pussy.

At the sound of his words, you tried to move your hips again, in a futile attempt to try and ride his fingers, your orgasm was just around the corner, it only took a bit of pressure and...

Feeling the way your pussy greedily squeezed his fingers, he knew you were about to cum. Billy smirked as he pulled out his fingers.

"You little shi-" You whined about the sudden emptiness in your pussy and the blatant orgasm denial, but were immediately silenced by the sight of Billy licking your juices off his own fingers—the sight made your pussy clench around nothing.

"What? What are you going to say about your boyfriend who fucks you senseless whenever you ask, hm?" There was a hint of condescension in his voice as he leaned down and kissed your neck, trailing his wet tongue along the soft skin.

You hummed softly, reaching behind you to run your fingers through Billy's hair as you felt his kisses moving to your shoulder blades. "Oh, nothing, baby. Love you."

His smile grew wider as he felt your fingers in his hair. "I love you too, princess. Now come on, I'm going to take my clothes off and fuck you properly."

As soon as he removed his weight from your body. you bit your lip in anticipation, spinning around in bed, laying on your back, your tits jiggling under the shirt from the movement, Billy's eyes immediately darting down to them. "Took you long enough."

"Well, I wanted to take my time and make sure you were all nice and wet for me." He smirked as he pulled his shirt off over his head, revealing a well-defined chest. He grabbed the edge of your shirt and took it off your body, leaving you completely naked and exposed to him, one of his hands moved to pinch your nipple teasingly.

His hands traveling down to unbuckle his belt. Not wanting him to delay it even more, you helped him remove the belt from the hoops, and then unbuttoned his pants and pulled down the zipper.

"Good girl." He whispered as he took off his pants, pulling his boxers down as well, exposing his already hard cock, leaking precum from the reddened tip. He climbed onto the bed and positioned himself between your spread legs, rubbing against your slit, coating his tip with your juices, while making sure to rub against your clit.

"Oh don't be like that-" You complained, voice slightly high pitched due to a moan you held back, his damn teasing... you could feel his tip rubbing.

"Like what?" He inquired, biting his lip, teasingly tapping his tip against your clit.

"Billy-" A perfect mix of pleasure and exasperation could be heard in your voice, you needed his cock inside you badly, and the little shithead knew it.

"You like this, don't you?" He mocked as he positioned himself at your slick entrance, rubbing his cockhead against your opening before slowly pushing inside.

You felt his cock entering slowly, inch by delicious inch, the feeling of every vein and detail of his cock was absolutely amazing, a groan escaping your lips, your back arching slightly to ease it in, seeking more of that feeling.

"Fuck, you're so tight." He groaned huskily as he finally filled you up, his eyes full of lust and desire. He leaned down to capture your lips in a deep kiss while slowly thrusting in and out of you.

You whimpered against his lips and he swallowed each and every sound, moving one of his hands to hook one of your legs over his hip, expecting you to do the same with the other one, which you did.

"That's it, squeeze me tight." He grunted as he picked up the pace, pounding into you with more force this time, dragging his hips so his cock would drag against your walls with every thrust. His free hand reached down to play with one of your nipples while his other held on to the headboard.

You mumbled some praises, what you were saying didn't make an ounce of sense in your head, since your thoughts were completely clouded by lust and pleasure, he always knew how to fuck you, so, so good.

"You love this dick, don't you?" Billy goaded as he pushed deeper inside you with each thrust, going balls deep inside you,

"And you love this pussy." You bit back, giving the same energy, clenching around his cock on purpose.

"Fuck yeah, I love this pussy, I'm obsessed with you, baby," He hissed as he felt you tighten around him. His eyes almost rolled back in pleasure as he grabbed onto the headboard harder, pounding into your pussy mercilessly. "you're mine. Nobody else gets to have this pretty pussy."

"Mmm, is that so?" You two were in an exclusive and in a a stable relationship, but a little tease every now and then wouldn't hurt, you loved to rile the man up, especially during sex.

"Fuck yeah, it's mine, you're mine." He growled as he pulled out of you suddenly, flipping you onto your stomach. His rough hands grasped your hips before slamming back inside you from behind.

Your back immediately arched at the feeling, as you moaned a loud 'fuck!', your pussy felt so full in this position, he was stretching you out so damn good.

"That's it, take it like a good girl." He growled in response to your teasing, Billy grabbed onto your hair to pull your head back slightly. His free hand slid to your front and began rubbing your clit while he continued to pound into you from behind.

"You're so fucking wet, baby." Billy cooed in a mix of arousal and teasing as he felt your juices dripping down his hand. He continued to thrust into you roughly from behind while playing with your swollen clit. "You wanna cum? Hm?"

"F-fuck," Your eyes rolled back in pleasure as he kept pounding into you, your senses in overload. "yes, please."

"That's it baby, come for me.” He grunted as he increased the speed of his thrusting and fingers working on your clit, feeling your pussy squeeze around his cock, milking it for all its worth. "Come on, cum for me."

Billy moaned as he felt your body shudder in climax, your tight pussy quite literally milking him as he also came, filling you up deeply. "That's it, that's it, pretty girl."

"You're mine. I love you." He mumbled as he pulled out of you slowly, both hissing softly from overstimulation. He grabbed the shirt you had been wearing to clean the cum that had dripped down your thighs before throwing it to the side and laying down beside you, pulling you into his arms. "That was fucking amazing."

“Absolutely.” You agree, yawning softly while you lay your head atop his chest.

"Go to sleep, pretty girl." He murmured as he stroked your hair and ran his fingers down your back soothingly, giving you a soft kiss, nibbling on your lower lip a bit before letting go. “I'll be here when you wake up."

“Promise?”

"Promise.” He nodded, his heartbeat slowing down to match yours as he too began to get sleepy. "I promise I'll always be here for you."

And to your delight— the next morning you woke up in his arms, just as he promised. Billy was a man of his word, that much you knew.

[diremoone]

whipped cream apology | r. sukuna

fights are uncommon between you and your fiancé, but there are times they do happen. you know you’ll never hear a verbal apology come from him, but you know he’s sorry; Sukuna’s apologies always come in the form of gifts, food, or acts of service. this time is no different :3

w — modern au, chef! sukuna (he owns and works in his own restaurant but that’s not elaborated on), itsy bitsy sprinkles of angst bc of a mentioned fight, fluff, this is super duper short haha, food and food descriptions bc I am a woman who loves her food so sue me :3 this is just a random lil fic I wrote in like a day so i won’t be surprised if this flops lmao

[ divider credit to @/inklore ]

You don’t know how you go to sleep angry, but you do.

Last night had been awful. Maybe you’d blown everything a little out of proportion, maybe not. Your energy hadn’t been so great coming through the front door of your home. You’d just been stalked by a couple of guys that wouldn’t stop leering at you, and to top that off you had an old woman at the register of the store get ugly with you. All you wanted was the nice dinner you know would be awaiting you and to not be bothered for awhile after that.

Problem was, was that Sukuna was also in a bad mood. Someone at the kitchen of his restaurant had put him in a super bad mood by not following orders, and a food critic was to be coming by in a few days. And when you mixed his bad mood with yours, it led to you two going to bed on bad terms.

But now, you’re not even sure that Sukuna had come to bed.

Did that idiot sleep on the couch?

Just as you’re about to get out of bed, you see a note on the nightstand with your name on it. You grab it, unfold it and read: ‘Stay in bed and text me when you’re awake.’

Your sleepy brain goes blank for a moment, but you oblige your fiancé’s request anyway, texting him that you’re awake with a pink heart afterward, hoping he still wasn’t upset with you.

Sukuna’s answer is almost immediate.

Give me a few more minutes and I’ll be upstairs.

But you do need to pee really really bad. You make your bathroom trip as quick as possible and hop back in the bed, miraculously just as Sukuna comes through the door with a large tray of what you smell to be food.

“Morning, baby,” he greets you.

You can see the solemn look on his face, one of upset. He’s still bothered about last night.

“Morning, ‘kuna,” you reply, smiling at him. It seems to partially work, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

You flatten out the blanket as he sets the tray over your legs. Your eyes can’t help but blown open so wide in shock and excitement that you accidentally make them hurt. To your expression and blinking eyes, Sukuna chuckles.

“An apology, for my shitty behavior last night.”

There are several plates of food on the large tray. Perfectly cooked eggs, bacon, sausage; all of your favorite comfort foods all sit before you.

But right in the center is a heaping pile of one inch-thick, fluffy pancakes the size of your head, four stacked atop of another. Butter runs down underneath the sweet maple syrup. Neatly placed around the edges of the plate are bananas and strawberries. And on the very top is a generous pile of whipped cream in a fancy swirl.

You grin at his meticulousness of making such a wonderful plate that’s only just going to get messy.

“Sukuna—”

He scowls. “Don’t even bother me with apologizing back. I don’t wanna hear it. I’m the asshole. You did nothing wrong.”

Love swells in your heart and soul for the man you’re soon to marry. God, you love him.

“You’re sure?”

He tsks. “Positive.”

You smile brightly. “I love you.”

His cheeks and ears go pink. “Just eat.”

“Cheeseball,” you call him, cutting into the pancakes. “But don’t mind if I do.”

“If you can’t eat all of that, I’ll eat the rest.”

“Fuck off, it’s mine.”

taglist: (no longer adding)

@vagabond-umlaut | @poe-daydreams | @heresan @thedovahqueen | @lotus-n-l0ve | @chiyoso | @miraclecherryblossomsblog | @unbreakableblueheaven | @marscatbutler | @vanillabloo | @wo-ming-bai | @visionsofmagic | @tohsri | @yuujispinkhair | @lilacliliess | @bub-ss

[roadkillremi]

A better man

Negan X F!Reader

Era - S10/11

Summary: After being stuck in a cabin with Negan, things got hot and heavy. Is there regret or enjoyment?

Warnings : Minors DNI, Legal Age Gap (Negan is in his 50s, Reader is in their 30s) , mentions Reader's and her ex's having bad fights (mentions leaving a bruise), unprotected sex, language, p in V, the pet name Doll, mentions rubbing poison ivy on hickey, the whole smut is a flashback of "yesterday night".

A/N : My first Negan fic <3. Also a couple of side notes ; Reader calls Negan Carl's and Ricks killer, I know this isn't true. It is more of the way she viewed him during S7/8. There's no use of 'Y/N', Negan refers to the reader as "Doll". Italics are used for past quotes

There were no words once you went inside the house. Your brain scrabbled with the thought of him. Your backpack slid off your shoulders leaving a thud on the ground. It laid by the entrance next to some abandoned shoes.

"You're back!" Judith and RJ ran towards you giving you a hug. You smile kneeling down to their level.

"Sorry it took me so long..." You wrapped your arms around them. You heard a creak behind you, you turned around to find Michonne. She stood in the doorway looking down at you.

"I said To be as quick as possible." She muttered. Your chest wrenches with guilt, "We were surrounded.". Michonne nodded and stepped closer, she took a good look at you.

"What the hell is that?" She pointed at your neck. You quickly reached your hand to the spot she pointed.

"What?"

"That better not be what I think it is.." she walked away. Her kids followed behind her like little ducks. You quickly went into the bathroom moving your neck around.

There it was.

A cherry red spot on your neck, your heart rate quickened. You said no hickeys, you shut your eyes hoping you're imagining things. Flashes of last night just flood your vision.

His hands roamed your body, touching you so gently. It was a mistake, you didn't mean for things to build up. You were surrounded by dead sacks of shit. It grew colder and less safe for you two to head back. You two barricaded the windows and locked the doors. He placed his crowbar by the door and sat on the couch kicking his feet up on the coffee table.

After all these years I barely know shit about you, sweetheart.

That's what led the two of you to share stories. Stories you wouldn't dare share with anyone else. He knew about your shitty ex boyfriends, the shameful hook ups. The terrible fights you'd have with said shitty ex boyfriends that ended in bruises.

If they were still alive I'd beat the shit of them

In return, he told you all about Lucille and her death. Teary eyed he stared down at you waiting for a response. You weren't sure how to react, so you hugged him. You whispered sweet nothing's into his ear.

I bet she loved you so much.

Then you two kissed in a fit of passion. Your senses are overruled by the longing of a man's touch. Undressing each other as quickly as possible. He laid you down on the old couch, his lips exploring every curve. You patted his shoulder signalling for him to stop. He looked up at you his lips pink with saliva coating them.

Before we continue we need ground rules... Don't release your fucking seed in me. Don't leave marks. Got it?

Fuck yeah, doll.

Just like that he was on top of you, his forehead on yours. He looked into your eyes watching you whimper and moan. His smug smile didn't leave his face once, he chuckled to himself before speaking.

God, this pussy is so Fucking good! No man should teach you like shit..

You pulled him down by the nape of his neck. His lips smash into yours as his beard tickles your chin. He leaned down leaving kisses all around your neck. His teeth teasingly digging into your skin, him leaving the hickey...

He made sure you finished first, holding himself back until your release coated his cock. He pulled out of you before he could spill his seed. You reached in between the two of your bodies. Your hand pumped his shaft helping him chase his orgasm. He thrusted into your hand his head tilting back. You placed kisses on his collarbone and traveled down to his tattoo. His come falling onto your torso, he groaned.

Shit, Doll... Lemme clean you up.

He grabbed his t-shirt whipping your torso off. He tossed it back into the ground before laying on top of you. His head rested on your chest as one of his hands rubbed up and down your thigh.

You buried your face into your hands. You can't do this, Think about Rick, Glenn, Carl, Abraham. They saved you, you were their family, and you slept with their killer. You focused on your racing heart, he's a changed man. You had to get rid of the hickey before anyone else sees it.

You stormed out the house grabbing your ax on the way out. You head towards the gate, your heart echoing into your ears. Negan noticed you stomping towards the gate, he got up from the steps he was sitting at. He followed you with curiosity plan on his face.

"Where are you off to? We just got back." He grinned. You didn't look at him, "To find poison ivy.". He's taken back by your response, " 'cuse me?". You sigh moving any hair in the way to show your neck.

"You got sloppy last night. Will someone open this damn Gate?!" You fussed. A man rushed towards the gate opening it for you.

"Whoa whoa, doll. Slow down you're gonna rub poison ivy on yourself?!" He grabbed your shoulders getting Infront of you. He leaned down to your height, the greyness in his hair shining in your eyes.

"Yes.. I told you not to leave marks." You start walking out the gate pushing into his shoulder. He follows you back out the gate, "Back in my day girls used makeup." He tries to lighten up your mood. You sigh, "Negan.. I told you I can't.. no one can know.".

"What happened to you saying I was a better man?" He leaned on his leg a hint of hurt in his voice. You looked down, a bit ashamed of yourself.

"You are.." you whispered. He walked towards you, "I get it, I'm not a fan favorite out here. But Doll, talk to me.".

"You hurt my family. And me sleeping with you is... Like betraying them" you mumbled. He sighs, "I... I don't regret it. Hell, it was probably the best sex I've ever had... But.." you lose your voice. You look out into the overgrown neighborhood.

"I'll keep it a secret." He speaks up. You turned towards him with hope in your eyes.

"But, don't ignore me. I wanna see that pretty face of yours often." He gently grabs your chin lifting it up. You look into his hazel eyes feeling your heart flutter.

The same eyes that cherished the sight of your body. You leaned into his touch, "Alright. But help me find poison ivy-" you smiled.

"Yes ma'am." He grinned walking into the woods with you. His hand went to the small of your back as the ground became rougher. You smiled to yourself thinking of the night before, this time willingly.

[ozzgin]

Can I request a headcanon where baki has a very cute s/o and pickle just so happens to escape the arena and runs into the cute s/o and everyone scared they'll be eaten pickle is nice and cute with the s/o and the scientists says they're looking at eachother like how kids look at puppies and s/o teaches pickle tricks making yujiro mad he's no longer fighting

Let’s just hope Pickle doesn’t experience cute aggression and has the urge to bite into your face or something.

Baki Headcanons: Pickle meets Baki’s significant other

Featuring Pickle, Baki and his cute partner that builds a strange relationship with the Jurassic man.

[Baki Masterlist] [Part II]

You’re dangling your legs back and forth over the wooden bench that faces away from the large arena building. The nerve of Baki to postpone your date night! You pout to yourself, mildly annoyed that whatever currently stands in the underground ring is more important than you. Who on Earth could it be this time? Baki has already fought most of the big shots.

You don’t have the time to think too hard about it as your seat topples over and you roll on the grass, wildly confused. You quickly lift yourself up and look around, trying to figure out what the hell just happened. At the same time, Pickle scans the area for the obstacle that caused him to trip this badly. He spots the bench, now torn from its bolts, and his gaze then stops on you. Another human. Somehow, this one reminds him of a small animal, like the kind of wild pup he’d chase around when he was younger.

You can now hear the multiple footsteps approaching your location and glance over. There’s a couple of armed men, old man Tokugawa, and behind them Baki is panting in panic. “(Y/N), get the hell back! Fuck, I won’t make it in time” he grunts to himself. Aha! You return to Pickle. So this was the irresistible opponent that had you wait alone next to a parking lot. “The homewrecker!” you exclaim, amused. The large prehistoric man doesn’t register your words but seems to be pleased with your smile.

He lowers himself to your level and inspects your scent. You find his wide, curious eyes and puzzled expression rather cute. Without much consideration you extend your hand and ruffle his hair. Baki gasps at your unhinged act and is about to shove his way through before Tokugawa gently stops him. “I don’t think you need to worry”, he whispers with a finger against his lips. And, true to his word, Pickle is now kneeling before you with a wide grin. One can almost notice a wagging tail behind his giant frame.

Well, you’re certainly cheaper than tranquilizer guns. The research team can’t complain as long as you get Pickle to behave. Baki, on the other hand, isn’t as excited about having his s/o giggling around with a Jurassic man at least twice the size. Now it’s his turn to pout, sitting against the fence and occasionally barking at Pickle that you’re his mate in case he gets funny ideas.

Though the one most annoyed by the situation is probably Yuujirou. He feels like he just got robbed and left empty handed on the side of the highway. No matter how often he parades the ring with a puffed up chest, Pickle seems to be more entranced by your shitty games. Honestly, he’d just get rid of you, but fighting an enraged Pickle and Baki simultaneously could be a stretch even for the Ogre himself.

[lace-coffin]

Hello! Could you please write something about The Collector (Asa Emory) who falls madly in love with fem!reader who lives a very lonely life? At first the man begins to stalk the reader, but one day he still decides to kidnap her and brings her to his den in order to give her a happy life that she truly deserves. Thank you so much!🦋🌺💖

Asa Emory x lonely!fem!reader

Requests are open!

I really hope you like this! Thank you a bunch for the request I love writing for this silly little guy !

You could try convince yourself that your life wasn’t mundane but…let’s be honest. It’s the same in and out, wake up, drag yourself to uni running on a cup of shitty instant coffee, try keep your eyes open and focus on said lecture, grab something quick to eat on the way home and then rot in bed until it’s time to sleep and start the cycle all over again.

It wasn’t like you didn’t have any friends, well not many but that’s beyond the point. You just don’t see each other much, always busy with university or work, god knows you don’t have the energy to meet up on your free days anyway. Keeping up relationships was always a struggle for you and it felt easier to just quietly drift.

Despite this you still get lonely, it can be an isolating existence when the only people you interact with daily are your lecturer and maybe the shop staff. Unfortunately narrating to yourself at home doesn’t count as company.

Little did you know that your lecturer had taken interest in you, he didn’t really have reason to in your mind, but to Asa you were different, reclusive and usually quiet, didn’t answer many questions but usually knew the answers when asked.

You stood out to him despite your best efforts to blend into the background noise of the class. Asa loves to dissect people like you, he finds there’s often more under the surface than you expect, maybe a reason for their timidness, or an unexpected shady social life. This is why Asa is currently keeping a good distance between you as you go about your day, lurking just far enough as not to raise suspicion but close enough to study you like a bug under a lens.

This was not the case for you. Asa couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed, instead of some shady back alley business or home drama he just witnessed a depressingly mundane day. Maybe you would meet a friend after uni? Maybe you would come home to a lover? Maybe you would have a fun hobby? None of those things.

Asa watched through the blinds as you sling a microwave meal in and slouch at the table, resting your head on the cheap wooden surface and groaning in defeat. To be honest Asa was bored out of his mind, having been trailing you for the entire evening and witnessing nothing of interest. After you lay in bed and start having some kind of breakdown, Asa thinks he’s seen enough, deciding to leave.

Later in the evening Asa can’t stop wondering about you, surely you can’t be content living like that, a young women like you should be in your prime years, eating at cute cafe’s with your friends and partying on the weekends, right? At least that’s what Asa thinks the 20 somethings are doing these days, he’s to old for this.

This won’t do, it’s not like you’re an unpleasant person, always an angel in his lectures but keeping to yourself, the way you move to put your hand up to answer questions but pull it back in shyness is endearing to Asa. Sometimes he asks you anyway because he feels you deserve to be heard.

After a few weeks and a couple more days of watching you, you wake up contorted into a box. Fantastic. You go through the motions as all captives do, the hysterics, crying, pleading, fighting and bolting. Usually this part is the most inconvenient for Asa. He’s never threatened by it, knowing well that he’s the one in control. With you he can’t help but want to coo and tell you everything will be ok if you’re good for him. Maybe he’s getting soft. Or maybe you just have that effect on him.

Time passes, a few months maybe, and things are better. Your body has softened out a little from your masters insistence on you eating good balanced food, a healthy glow in your cheeks and a little extra fat on your curves. You still attend lectures at the uni only now you’re arriving with Asa and parting ways until class starts, not wanting to raise any suspicion. It turns out it’s a lot more helpful to just have your tutor at home if you get stuck with work, Asa loves teaching you anyway, getting to talk about his special interest to his favourite pet? Beautiful.

On your free days you visit restaurants and events together, the way your face lights up when you try a new yummy food or find a cute trinket tugs at your owner’s heart. Sometimes you think about how you could just run now and not look back, easily lost in the sea of people at the market, however the idea no longer appeals like it did months ago. Given the choice you wouldn’t want to leave anyway, tied to your master so deeply by now. Call it love or Stockholm syndrome, you don’t care anymore, your days finally feel more like a new opportunity and not a burden. You look forward to weekends again, Asa jokes an old man like him isn’t the best company but you wouldn’t want to spend the time with anyone else.

This is how it should be, how it should’ve always been. Asa thinks, as he unclasps your collar for the night. enjoying the pleasant hum you let out as he massages your neckline, rubbing his coarse hands over it gently, tracing the faint red lines the display of his ownership left behind. “Let’s get you to bed cricket” Asa says softly, scooping you up and depositing you onto your shared king bed. You waste no time in snuggling into his soft fuzzy tummy once he’s stripped off his day clothes and settled into bed. With one last chaste kiss to the forehead Asa leans over and turns off the lamp, draping his arms over you. “Goodnight cricket, I love you” “night sir, love u” you mumble back, already half asleep.

[eyesxxyou]

❝ all mine ❞

｡ﾟ･ ¡ content. ex!hobie, you cheat on miguel, mentions of fighting, highkey toxic relationship, mentions of sex, hobie being a little shit trying to get you back. you made your decision, thought things were over between you and hobie brown for good. but was your decision really the right one?

wc: 3.3k

You shouldn't be here.

You know you shouldn't be here but you knew he loved this place in all its shitty, humid glory. You knew he'd be here. You couldn't help yourself. Something within the pit of your gut told you to get up and find your way here the moment you saw that post with a caption talking about him stopping by his old haunts before he left the country...leaving you and everything you both once held dear to find a new adventure. Something deep and carnal, something you thought had long died the moment you decided that he was becoming too much; too insatiable, too unpredictable. What you had once loved had become a burden you could no longer handle.

He texted you too. Just seconds after making the most.

'We should catch up.'

So why did you come here? Why did you seek him out?

Maybe you didn't. Maybe you simply wanted to take in this place one last time before he went, revive some long-buried memories you had stored away for your own sanity. Maybe you were seeking closure, the stitches to a wound left fresh and gaping so you could return to your adoring boyfriend at home with a heart that didn't belong to him. He'd play it off like he had it the whole time, place it under his pillow with another man's name carved into the flesh.

It hurt. The way Miguel gave you his all and you couldn't return such affections. He was everything you could ask for in a boyfriend. He was sweet, attentive to your needs, had generally the same core values as you. He was the safe bet, the type who wouldn't make plans last second without a hint of rational thought and just hope that they end well. Maybe you got with Miguel — his overplanning self — to compensate for your ex's utter disregard and borderline carelessness. He was impulsive, just looking for the next high to make him feel alive.

But you had been his partner in crime. He was ready to do it all with you. 

"___, long time no see. How have you been?" The bartender greets her like an old friend. He's an older man, seen all of your shenanigans with your ex. Had to kick the two of you out a couple of times but almost always welcomed the two of you back the next time you came around. It's been a little over a year now. He had seen you two argue more times than he could count on both hands but no fight seemed as permanent as the final one. You'd fight, stop talking for a few days until one of you came back to apologize and the routine act of make-up sex would commence.

You shrugged with a sigh, glancing vaguely around the dimmed bar as if trying to catch sight of something. Everything was just the same. Nothing changed. Your picture was still hanging up behind the bar along with a dozen others. You two were kissing. He held your waist, hands under your shirt as he held you close. Your fingers were splayed across his cheeks as you held his face, a hint of a smile against his lips as he kissed you. You two were drunk off your asses that night, nearly drunk the whole bar, passed out right where you're sitting. The picture of the two of you sleeping with your faces smushed against the bar was right next to the picture of you kissing.

"Oh- I've been fine. Y'know just...living life." You sighed, tracing your finger in imaginary shapes across the splintered wood. "You remember my usual?" You offer a smile and he returns in. "Of course, darlin'. Just give me a moment." His smile was old and worn but warm. "I haven't seen Hobie yet…if you're here for him." He grabs a glass, places a single ice cube inside of it.

You find your shoulders tensing in defense but you don't deny anything. You know he'd see right through your farce. It's no coincidence you decided to take a stroll down memory lane the same night your ex happens to be in town in the very place you knew he was likely to be. But you don't confirm his suspicions. Plausible deniability and all that. Silence befalls you as you watch him mix your cocktail and slide it down the way toward you. All with a little cherry on top.

Hobie used to pluck the cherry by the stem from your drink. He'd hold it to your lips and have you eat the cherry whole. Then he'd kiss you. He'd take the stem from your tongue and tie it against yours. He was always so good with his tongue, tracing hearts across your skin as he made his way down your naval.

You reached into your bag to pull out your card — or rather — the card Miguel had lent you to use. He was sweet like that; gave you his card when you went out. Kissed you softly and told you to have fun when you claim you were going out with friends. He trusted you with unwavering solitude. His confidence in your loyalty and faithfulness was something you didn't deserve.

You know it when a hand comes to drop a bill on the counter before you can take the honors.

"When have I ever let’cha pay for a drink, doll?" His voice sends shivers down your spine. Over a year and it's like you were never separated. Every muscle, even molecule, every atom in your body still gravitated towards him like a magnet. He was the negative to your positive, the moon to your sun. Something just clicked into place and you aren't exactly sure what it is but it makes you feel complete once more. 

He takes a seat stool covered in cracking leather starting to reveal the beige foam padding underneath. He looks different yet exactly as you had left him. His hair was still full and wild and beautiful. The rest was just the same. Same soft, droopy eyes that disappear when he smiles. Lovely, broad nose, and his lips. Oh– his lips were something otherworldly. They looked just as soft as when they last met yours, when they last pulled back to reveal teeth that sank into your skin. Lips that once murmured "I love you" and whispered false promises of the future you've always dreamed of. You and him with a baby, a family of your own. He promised he'd give that to you but you knew better than to trust the sweetened lies that passed by his lips. Hobie wasn't the type so settle in one place, live somewhere quiet and quaint and start a family. 

Hobie stared at you as if you were simply a memory he had reconstructed before his own eyes. A gaze soft and tender yet the lopsided smile displayed across his lips told a different story. He was certainly happy to see you, that some part of you still belonged to him, still sought him out given the chance. "___." He saw the way you flinched, turned away from him so maybe he wouldn't catch the longing in your eyes. You missed him more than you should. You shouldn't be here. "Hobie."

"Oh...don' be so tense, sweetheart." Hobie scoffed with careless dismissal. He reached out, a hand on top of yours to soothe your nerves. "Yer a sight for sore eyes. I's amazing to see ya again." Better to simply let things be. He'd never have hard feelings for you, no matter the bad your fights had gotten. You had left him abruptly, cut your ties to him with brutal efficiency in the heat of the moment. Hobie figured that was the end of it, no use in trying to get a deaf person to hear reason.

"Stephen," Hobie spoke to the bartender. "Beer, please." He slid the bartender his 20 and in passing, caught a glimpse of the card you had tossed out. "Miguel...tha’cha new boyfriend?" You try to search for some semblance of jealousy somewhere in his misty eyes or across his sculpted features but there was none. He just awaited your answer, maybe to figure out what reaction he'd have to that. Funny...he was always the type to assume first and ask questions later.

"Yeah."

"Good for you, dove. Wha’s he like? Are ya happy wit’ ‘im?" There could have very well been jealousy somewhere in the heart of his, residual possessiveness he still hasn't gotten rid of. But maybe there was a part of him that just wanted to be assured that you were okay. As...terribly complicated and sometimes toxic as Hobie and your relationship with him was. Neither of you ever wished ill on each other no mater the circumstance. Even when you left, when you packed your bags and told him to go fuck himself. You never meant the things you said. You both knew it.

Are you happy with Miguel? You felt that you should be. He's everything you wanted on paper, everything that Hobie wasn't. But that's just it, isn't it? He isn't Hobie. He doesn't get that wild look in his eyes when he gets an idea. He doesn't make haphazard plans with no regard for consequences. Hobie lives in the moment. Miguel lives for a future that isn't guaranteed. 

Hobie knows you too well. He sees the way you hesitate with your answer and speaks again. "I just wanna make sure my girl is being well taken care of." You realize that he doesn't give any indication of being jealous because he knows you still belong to him. He's not threatened by Miguel because if you were truly as devoted and loyal to him as you were to Hobie, you wouldn't be here. Wouldn't have even thought of coming.

You sip softly on your drink before the ice can start to melt, snatching up the card from the counter to place it back in your bag. "Because you took such great care of me."

"I took amazin’ care of ya and ya know it." Hobie had his drink in his hand before he knew it. A quick nod to Stephen in appreciation before the man walked away to give them time alone. "I took care of you, dolli." He whispered softly, gripping the bottle neck with his long, slender fingers. "Don't lie."

"You didn't care about anyone but yourself, Hobie."

"Can we not, righ’ now?" He murmured, pressing the rim to his lips to take a sip. "I came back to catch up wit’ ya, not spark another argument. And tha's not true. I care ‘bout’cha more than anyone." You take note to how he says it in the present tense. He cares about you, not cared. 

You sigh, lips pursing against your crytaline glass. "Fine. How has traveling been?" You won't open that can of worms. Problems that went unsolved will remain as such. Maybe it was intentional. Neither of you would be able to find closure and move on if such wounds remained open and untreated. It was intentional on both ends. You weren't ready to let go, even if the pain still remained.

"Incredibly lonely, actually." He admitted, the whisper of a woeful smile crossing the lips you had once adored so much. "Not much fun when you have no one t’share it with." You two had always talked about traveling the world together. Paris, Rome, Tokyo, anywhere your fickle hearts desired.

Sometimes you'd lay awake at night, your head resting upon Miguel's chest, and wonder what life might have been like if you had left with Hobie. Where you might have been and who you might have been if you had simply gone off with him. He had tried to get you to go. Showed up on your doorstep with the keys to his boat and a plan to sail down the English Canal to France, professed his love to you and begged you to come with him. Leave your whole life behind and just start anew like it was just that easy.

Maybe it was that easy.

"Paris was nice but i’ would have been even better with you. So would Barcelona and Rome. 'm going to Berlin next. Leaving early tomorrow. ‘m sure tha’ll be lonely too." You know his bed has been kept quite warm no doubt with men and women and everyone in between alike. The thought makes you sick, green with jealousy. He was yours before he was anyone else's. You wanted to mark him, litter his throat with teeth marks and hickeys so that whoever had the honor of having him would know that he was already owned.

Yet, he claimed he was lonely. He wanted you. He only wanted you. Why else would he have come back? It wasn't just for the shits and giggles or trying to "catch up". Hobie wanted you to go with him though he wouldn't say that outright. 

There was a beat of silence between the two of you before Hobie spoke again. "It wasn't all that bad, was it? To you at least? We had our downs but we had way more ups." He nudged you softly with one of those smiles that made your heart flutter and skip vital beats. You thought you just might die if he moved any closer to you.

"If by downs you mean telling each other to go to hell and me nearly throwing a vase at your head then sure, we've had our downs." You aren't proud of some of the things you've done...of a lot of the things you've done. You aren't proud that you're here and not at home, reading Miguel's sweet message of goodnight accompanied by a picture of him in bed. "Please do tell me what our ups were."

"Oh, we've had plenty. ‘m so disappoin’ed you've forgotten so easily." Hobie places a hand on his chest with an exaggerated offense. "Am I really tha’ forgettable?"

No. You wanted to say with quick, biting passion. Hobie was the least forgettable person you've ever met in all aspects. But you don't give him the satisfaction of knowing that. "I don't know, Bee. Maybe I'm in need of a reminder." Now you've gone into flirting with him and you didn't feel bad about it in the slightest. How can you feel bad as Hobie downs the rest of his drink and stands up with the prettiest grin you've ever seen in your life? The same mischievous grin he got when a new idea was sparked in that brilliantly dangerous mind of his. He takes your hand and drags you off of your stool. You stumble along with him, his hand tightly secured around yours as he takes you to the middle of the bar.

You remember this. You remember him putting coins in the old jukebox to play your song, quickly returning to you to take you up into his arms. Your right hand in his left while his right came around to rest of the small of your back. He'd pull you close, smiling with wild joy and youth and the two of you would dance however you so chose.

You missed him. God, you missed him and you hated it. You hated how he touched you with such familiarity. Knew you better than anyone else in the world. You hated that he kissed the corner of your lips and you did nothing to stop him. You hated that you knew this was a ploy to get you back and how you hoped that feelings could override the logical part of your mind and you could convince yourself to go back.

"Is this reminder enough for ya?" He leaned in and whispered into your ear, swaying carefully with you in his hold. Your lips are pressed to his shoulder and you can smell the cologne he had put on just for you, your favorite. He's wearing the shirt and vest you said looks best on him and the jeans you said you liked the very most on him. And of course, the boots he never goes anywhere without. Pulling out all the stops.

It's more than enough, yet, you play coy. "Vaguely."

Hobie likes it when you play coy. You hear him sigh slowly into your ear. "Ya remember the time when I made you miss tha’ flight to go see your parents for the holidays?" He spent nearly an hour between your legs, ravishing your body with orgasm after orgasm until your thighs were trembling around his head. "Or when we got that bottle of champagne and you let me pour it on you." Then he proceeded to lick it up from your diaphragm and naval. "Open." He had muttered and, on command, your mouth had opened up and you let him pour champagne into your mouth. 

"Hobie." Your tone warns him but he's quick to bite. "What? Too many good memories?"

"I have a boyfriend."

"Then why are you here, ___?" He snaps maybe with a bit of unnecessary harshness. It's all too easy for the two of your to start arguments. "If ya love yer new boyfriend so fuckin’ much then why are ya here to see me?"

You look away in shame because you know he's right. Your heart hasn't beat this fast since the last time you saw Hobie. It almost feels like it hasn't even moved since then. He left a vacant hole in your chest, took your heart with him but it was an even exchange in his opinion because he left his with you to fill the space he left behind.

Two fingers are on your chin and your face is being brought back to his. It takes you by surprise, how quickly he kisses you. His lips are just as soft as you remembered and even softer than they look. They still taste like mint and a touch of beer. You can tell he's been dying to do this since the moment he saw you and you can't say that you didn't want to either. You melt into him, let him have his way because you want his way too.

"All mine." He whispers, lips hovering over yours before he dove back in. All his. His hand once in yours now comes around the back of your neck to draw you closer. It was home. This was all you've been waiting for for months upon months, maybe waiting for him to come back for you. Well- he has and you still don't have your answer. But Hobie's always been rather good at persuading you, his tongue gently stroking over yours to coax you to agree.

"Come back t’my boat." He attempts to get you to say a small yes now. A frog in a pot of water. He was just starting to crank up the heat. 

"You know I can't." You manage to say between muffled kisses. Hobie remains persistent. "Of course, ya can, dove. 'm not asking ya to do backflips all the way there, jus’ come with me." That's how it started. Come with me to the dock, get on the boat, sail away with me. Next thing you know you're in a whole nother country. His voice was so sweet though. It's always been his secret weapon, whispering in your ear with that slight airy tease in his tone.

"Come with me...just for tonight." The two of you still swayed together to the rhythm of the song as it slowly began to come to an end. Between gentle pecks from his pillow-y lips to yours, he kept staring at you, begging you to cave just this one time. But it's never just the one time with him. You know this. You know it won't just stop with this. It's why you left. He had too much power, could make you do anything short of killing someone with enough charm. Look how easily you feel back in.

"Okay...just for tonight.”

[piratesfromspace]

The Escape (Joel/Reader)

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader Rated: Explicit Word count: 2.9k Summary: You've been captured by slavers and thrown into the same cell as Joel. Note: I've been through a severe lack of energy and inspiration, but here is my take on Joel, featuring some sweet smut of course! This happens roughly 10 years after the Outbreak, so Joel would be in his 40s and Reader is in her 20s. Content: hurt/comfort, smut, almost-virginity loss, p-i-v, praise kink, alcohol, overall canon typical violence

MASTERLIST

When you’re thrown into his cell - an old bathroom, all broken tiles and rusted pipes - Joel gets tense, hand clenching harder on the shiv he improvised a couple days ago. He has no idea what the slavers are plotting. He’s been held in here for maybe one week now, hard to tell when the days are blending into each other, long boring hours only punctuated by a bottle of water and some food left on the floor without a word.

He knows his worth is in his strength and the slavers have no interest in letting him starve to death - that’s the only positive thing in his whole ordeal. He can’t believe he’s been stupid enough to let himself be captured. But he had reacted one second too late, and there were too many, and here he is, waiting to be sold to the highest bidder. 

You land hard on your knees, unable to stop your pathetic fall on the hard floor, as the door of the cell is closed shut once again. He watches, ready to strike, as you scramble to get back in a sitting position - and then you finally notice him, standing tall in one of the corners, the glint of something undoubtedly lethal in the hand he’s hiding behind him. You try to get up on your feet, but your muddy boots are sliding on the tiles, your legs shaking with the effort - you’re clearly exhausted. Your hands are bound behind your back, leaving you with very little option. You push yourself back until the wall hits your shoulders, until you have nowhere else to go. 

Joel is assessing your form very calmly, a stark contrast with the frantic terror pinching your brows. You look young, younger than him for sure, body lean from years of privation (like everyone else now), and he’s sure you could be mistaken for a teenager from afar - maybe you were when the Outbreak happened 10 years ago, but he can see the way your eyes are sunk, the fine skin under them puffy from a decade-worth of bad sleep and dirty conscience. Nah, you may be a child of the Apocalypse, but you’re definitely old enough to realize you’re in a shitty situation. Something like pity tugs at his heart - or more like recognition, the fire in your gaze despite the fear washing over your features, the will to push through the tiredness, the need to fight until the very end, even cornered and tied up. A mirror handed to him of what he was like at your age.

Maybe you can be useful, you can help him escape, surely you know a trick or two, or you wouldn’t have been able to survive this long - he tries to convince himself that’s the reason why he helps you. Why he walks up to you, crouches in front of your scared face and orders you to turn around. He has to repeat himself because you don’t want to listen but he does his best to not sound as harsh as usual, and finally, you understand and offer him your bound hands. He tugs on the dirty scrap of fabric, unties the knot with skillful fingers. He takes hold of your wrists before you can even move your arms, and for a second you feel the icy stab of panic and treason in your throat. Since when do you trust strangers? 

“Easy there…” his warm voice rumbles in your back “Guess you’ve been like this for more than an hour, ‘gonna hurt if you move too fast.” he explains, while bringing slowly your hands in front of you. He’s right, you hiss a pained fuck when your shoulders protest at the change in position. He’s freaking close, his chest almost flush to your back, the rough skin of his palms still on your wrists. He suddenly lets go of you, gets up on his feet, and you turn on your knees to face him. He looks older than you, his temples already turning to gray. There is a gravity in his expression, like he stopped smiling 10 years ago and never did it again since - but still you catch a distant warmth in his soft brown eyes, behind his steely demeanor. His whole persona is a mix of hard and soft, exposed forearms showing off the chords of his muscles under a skin littered with scars, contrasting with the mundane patchy beard and the soft curls on his nape. He’s kinda handsome in his own way, even though he looks like someone who can do ugly things.

—

That’s the beginning of your cooperation. You had helped him, baiting the guard in pretending to be sick, and then he had used the makeshift knife to slit his throat, without so much as a second of hesitation. You remember the bright red blood spilling on the dirty tiles, staining the dried grout vermilion. It had been a while since you had seen a healthy human get killed up close. You had stood there, bile at the back of your tongue, ringing in your ears, until the firm command - move, come on - had made you join him. He had slashed his way out with too much ease, and had made you run for so long, you got sick the minute you finally stopped inside an abandoned house. You spat all the bile that had been bubbling in your guts, folded over the moldy kitchen sink. You had expected him to get disgusted and just leave you there to a very certain death, but he just took out a bottle of water from the backpack he stole during your escape and wordlessly handed it to you. He did not have to do that, he could have kept the precious resource for himself. You still wonder why - it wasn’t out of selflessness, definitely not out of kindness. You guessed he needed someone to stay awake and keep watch so he could sleep a little. Useful - you were useful. 

He brings you back to the QZ because that’s where you’ll be safe - safer at least. Shielded from the slavers and the raiders and the biters. Definitely not from the corrupt FEDRA guards, the local traffickers, the ruthless fireflies - and really, any individual ready to take advantage showing how thin the veneer of civilization truly was in the first place.

You stay in his small apartment because you have nowhere else to go. Even after you start working and earning your part. At first, he slept on the couch so you could have the bed. But one day, after a gruesome double-shift, he comes back home so exhausted he just crashes on the mattress without realizing you’re already there. It’s not the first time you sleep next to him. You had to during the trek back to the QZ. Only way to keep warm. It was utilitarian, nothing else. Still, it meant you trusted him enough to close your eyes in his presence. You still do. 

When you wake up the next morning, you feel him pressed against your back. Either him or you had sought the other’s warmth during the night. You have to admit you slept pretty well. You’re usually freezing and he’s just… warm. A solid wall radiating heat behind you. His slow breathing is keeping at bay the usual rush of anxiety you get when you wake up every day to discover this too long nightmare is indeed reality. You guess you had to have a similar effect on him because dawn is already lighting the room with its dull glow and he’s not awake yet. 

That’s the beginning of another level of your relationship - you don’t want to give a name to whatever strange alliance is going on between you. Still, night after night, he keeps going back, and you let him, welcome him silently in your bed (actually it’s his). You should be scared, he’s but a man, and if he was any other man, you would know that he’d been expecting something from you. Expecting you to offer your naked skin and your warm body in exchange for his protection. But it never comes. Joel seems very content in being able to lay there on his mattress and share his warmth with you. You can even see how he glares darkly at that FEDRA guard who keeps talking to you for any reason possible. How he makes sure you’re home as soon as the sun sets. 

And then, one day, you’re on his sofa sharing some whisky - the nice one, the real one, a 20-year old bottle he traded - and it says a lot he’s even sharing it with you in the first place. Joel is in a good mood, he cracks a couple awful dad jokes, and you laugh, so hard tears leak on your cheeks. He doesn’t think, just swipes them with his thumb, calloused pad of his finger on the sensitive skin just under your lashes. He lingers there, looks at you with hooded eyes and you know you’re royally fucked. He looks so good, the warm light of sunset on his tanned skin, his hair mussed, making him look a bit younger. It makes you forget he’s almost two decades older - but what does that even mean today? Life - death - is no longer this linear thing, and there is no one left to scold you about your partner’s choice. Nobody cares anymore. Yet he cared for you. So you decide to indulge in this desire that has been brewing in your chest since the moment he untied you in that damned icy cell. 

He’s kind of a jerk with it, lets you do all the work. Maybe he’s just too scared you would feel forced to accept what he wants to offer. But you soldier on, you kiss him with all the fervor of your youth, climb on his lap, and keep licking his tongue until he finally dares to take charge. Joel tastes like the bourbon discarded on the floor - sweet and rich, smoked spice and the desperate furor of someone whose will to live only surpasses his devastating grief by a short inch. 

You sigh in his mouth, the relief provided by his touch welcome but not enough to quench the pent-up thirst you’ve been harboring for years now. He must feel it because when your slightly shaking fingers are hastily working the buttons of his shirt open, then diving straight to the fly of his jeans, he stops you.

“Wait”, he rasps, a hint of worry mixed in the molasses of his voice, “please tell me you have done this before”.  

“Yeah -yes, yes… just -it’s been a long time. Like, not since the ‘break…”

“Fuck.” he answers, head lolling backward against the sofa, and you’re sure you screwed up. No way he’s gonna want to do it with an almost virgin. For your defense, after a few experiments with your then-boyfriend from before the apocalypse, your possibilities were quite limited. You focused more on staying alive than romance. More on avoiding men than courting them. Years went by and no one came who you could trust enough. Until him. 

“Please, Joel” you kiss his cheek, his neck. “I want to feel good just for a bit”, you beg him, because the thought of him leaving you like this makes you wanna die of shame. 

You feel more than you hear him growl, the rumble of his chest making you shiver against him. He grounds his hands on your waist, presses the rough pads of his fingers into your supple and warm flesh. 

“Remove your clothes”, he finally commands. Your jeans and sweater are thrown on the ground without second thought. You’re naked while he just pushed his pants low enough to free his already leaking cock. 

“Joel…” your gasp dies in your throat when he crashes his mouth on yours again. He’s… big. You haven’t seen a lot of cocks in your life, but you’re pretty sure he definitely has bragging rights. He feels burning hot and surprisingly soft in your palm, pulsing in time with the frantic beating of your heart. 

He’s not especially careful when he parts your folds, long fingers pressing against your clit in a couple of crude circles before pushing inside you. The intrusion is nothing like you remember. It burns in an addictive way, and when he crooks his index toward your belly, and presses his thumb on your clit, you let out a whimper that makes him groan in response. His other hand has threaded itself in your hair, and he uses it to hold your head steady. 

“Eyes on me sweetheart” he urges. His lips are parted, the glint of his canines echoing the predatory gaze he’s pining you with. It’s been barely a minute and you’re already panting, feeling your orgasm build up at an impressive pace. You muffle your cries against your palm, unwilling for anyone on the other side of those cardboard thin walls to hear you.

“Come on, don't get shy now.” he rasps, voice thick in his throat. “Wanna hear you when I make you come”. Reluctantly, you remove your hand, finding purchase on his shoulders where you sink your short nails, trying to contain the molten wave of pleasure washing over you. The orgasm is brutal, your whole body seizing as Joel keeps on grounding his thumb cruelly hard on your clit, the fist on your hair tightening even more as he praises you throughout. It hurts so good you don’t remember sex could even be like this. 

You’re barely down from your high that Joel manhandles your pliant body until you’re under him on the couch. He’s still clothed, his jeans scratchy against your bare legs. His fingers follow an ugly scar on your flank - you got this one pretty early after the end of the world, it’s still itchy sometimes, you don’t really want to talk about it - and you hear him mumble how pretty you are, more for himself than for you. “Joel” you plead again and he snaps out of his haze, voracious glint back in his eyes. 

“I’m here, I’m here” he repeats, guiding his cock against your wet slit. He stops just a second to ask if you still want this, and you beg his name again. Finally, he pushes inside you, fills you in one slow motion. You can’t stop the litany of fuck escaping your mouth. It feels like he’s splitting you in two, molding your flesh to him. The stretch is a lot, makes your brain short-circuit. “Breathe” he instructs, his fingers - still wet from your desire - finds your cheek in a soothing gesture. “Stay with me”, he adds, voice low against the dainty shell of your ear. 

Joel fucks you slow, way more gentle than when he had his fingers buried in your cunt a few minutes before. He pushes your knees apart, hikes your legs high on his waist, almost folding you in half. It still hurts a little, but the pressure feels good, even better when one of his hands finds your clit again. Your soft moans fill the air between you, warm with whiskey and need. One particularly powerful snap of his hips and his cock touches something bright inside of you, awakening feelings you had even forgotten about. He keeps rubbing the delicate and swollen flesh just above there you’re joined, and you already know your second orgasm is not far. 

You seek his mouth, demanding for him to kiss you, as you bury your hand in his soft curls, where early swirls of gray ring the end of his youth. A sudden burst of need and yearning and almost sadness shots through you. It’s not only about being intimate with someone after all those years. It’s the emotion of trusting another human enough to bare your body, to let them come close, to show vulnerability - not in the form of the pain and the gruesome you’re both accustomed to - no, the real vulnerability that lies in the will to share something good, something mundane and beautiful, sinful and sacred. The illusion that everything will be alright, that, in the next seconds, you both have nothing else to care about than your common pleasure, than the warmth of the other’s skin, than this silly and dangerous thrill you’re willing to offer. You’re opening your legs as much as your heart, and you know it’s going to wreck you in the most stunning way. 

You come with a whisper of his name against his lips, like a secret prayer, an oath that in this instant he is all you believe in. He follows you in your bliss just after, considerate enough to pull out and cum on your belly. You forgot how messy all this can be. But the sight of his cum on your skin is also a bleak reminder of reality - you better not get pregnant now. He must sense your distress because he cups your cheeks gently, kisses you again. 

“Stay with me” he says, echoing his words from a few minutes earlier, when you were stuffed full with him. Except this time, you think you understand what he means - what he truly means. 

You think you feel him smile in the kiss.

[taxinealkaloids]

so...John’s planning on pulling the plug on the world, right? Like that’s what he’s doing here?

I’ve just been turning these bits of ntn over and over in my head and tbh I can’t stop thinking about the description of 10,000 years of civilization as a first draft. John’s first resurrection didn’t quite end up how he wanted -- closest friends all dead, turned traitor, or both, fighting a war on multiple fronts, his only allies the corpse of his accidental bastard daughter and a twenty-something princess with cannibalistic tendencies whom he canonized as part of a failed attempt to revitalize his polycule-- but hey, it doesn’t matter, because he can just start over. All of NTN he’s in this depression spiral; he’s falling apart, he’s having orgy parties with his senior staff, he’s got at least part of his subconscious camped out in the comatose mind of a half-dead nineteen year old he tried to have murdered, treating it like a confessional booth; because right there, in the background of his mind through all of this, is the off switch. He can have his breakdown, and then just...let Alecto out. Erase it all, start fresh, and this time he’s got one attempt under his belt, he’s got notes for what to do differently, and so let it all fall to shit! Nobody else is gonna remember any of this anyway. Two worlds, now, that only John will remember. Maybe three, later; maybe four, what’s to stop him from redoing it over and over til it’s just right? 

The issue with that, of course, is there’s really no way to treat the world like this and still care about it in the way other people do. You’d lose your ability to be affected by life’s events after a couple reboots and then what’s there to get emotionally invested in? When you’ve turned a person off and back on two, three, four times and you know you’ll probably do it again the next time something happens you don’t quite vibe with, how can you possibly look at them as a real person? Are they a real person, if they only know what you want them to know and do what you want them to do? And once you reach that point, once people aren’t people but project components for you to edit, what are you even bothering with all this for?? John started down this path because he so loved the world; what happens when he reduces the world to something he can no longer afford to love? Might as well pull that plug for good, yeah? 

Anyway. I’m fascinated by the way John’s shitty mental state is dooming the world and it’s everyone else’s bad luck. The rest of the cast is out there fighting for their lives and he’s like *sigh* let’s try that again. take two, everyone! 

[t3ag3rs]

g e n s o - 1 3.

you groan feeling a sudden pressure hit your head as you wake up slowly in the infirmary.

fluttering your eyes you look around to see bakugou asleep in the chair by your side.

"what..?" you groan feeling disoriented, looking down you see your leg in a cast. "oh cmon...." you whine, waking up bakugou.

"goddamn your loud..." he mutters as he stretches, "took you long enough to wake up.."

"what happened? why am i here?" you ask signaling to your body and around you.

"okay so... you made it to the finals in the 1v1's... fought against me and thats why you're here.." he pauses, "but- you did get third out of everyone"

"really bakugou." you reply with a deadpan expression, "you really had to put me back in a cast after i had just gotten out of one?"

"its not like i was trying to genso!" he shouts, "would you rather me go easy on you and show everyone that you still cant beat me, or fight you like i would with everyone else to show that you are strong?" he asks with a scowl.

you widen your eyes as you realize his reason, "oh..." you look down, "thanks then.. i guess.." you mutter before looking up at him, "okay but seriously though howd i end up in here?? every time i get injured i somehow end up in here but i have no idea how..."

he clears his throat, "thats not important... but now since your up ill be heading out.. damn shitty hair forced me to stay here until you woke up.." he mutters standing up.

"oh.." you sigh slightly looking down. why do i feel kind of disappointed that hes leaving...?

he stops right before he exits, "for what its worth.. i think a lot of pros were impressed by our fight. you did well genso." he states before opening the door.

"thanks.." you mumble with a slight blush covering your cheeks.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

you limp into class slowly the next day.

as soon as you open the door, your crushed by mina, "oh my gosh! are you okay?? are you feeling better?? i was so worried y/n!" she rambles pulling away and checking over your body.

"chill out mina... at this rate shes gonna get hurt from you.." chuckles kirishima walking up to you with a soft smile, "how you feeling?"

"way better.." you chuckle, "okay but seriously though.. who took me to the infirmary?? because whenever i get hurt i always end up there, but i dont know how..."

"okay babe.. get ready cause its quite shocking..." giggles mina, "its yours truly... mr. bakugou katsuki over there..." she whispers while jabbing her thumb in his direction.

you let out a laugh, "hah! thats a good one..! but no really.. who is it..?" you sigh as your laughter dies down.

"we're being serious.." repeats kirishima with a slight grin.

you widen your eyes, "no fucking way..." you look at mina, "but he hates me..!"

"well he must hate you soooo much that whenever you get injured during class he just has to pick you up and rush you to the infirmary..!" she says sarcastically.

"yeah.. he did that during entrace exams too! i honestly thought you two were a thing.. kinda like an old couple yknow?" kirishima quips in with a grin.

"yeah exactly!" mina agrees, bouncing on her heels. "im sure everyone in class thinks it too from the way you two act around each other..! theres just- so much tension!" she squeals.

you clasp your hand over her mouth, "shush..!" you blush, pulling her away from bakugous hearing range. "you two are so loud..!"

"is someone getting flusteredddd...?" teases kirishima with a dopey grin.

"kiri!" you gasp, "youre supposed to be on my side here..!" you grunt slapping his arm lightly.

"no way..! do you like him..?" she asks with a slight whisper. "cmon tell ussss..!" she repeats, poking your shoulder.

you blush heavily, "n-no..! i mean- i dont think so..! ughhh.. i dont know- im not sure..!" you respond frustrated.

"yknow what i just heard?" says mina with a grin, "i like him i just dont wanna accept it!!" she answers with enthusiasm.

right as you start to open your mouth mr. aizawa walks in. "this conversation isnt over..!" you whisper before sitting down in your seat.

"listen up everyone" sighs aizawa, "the hero offers for each one of you have came in..." he says before turning on the projector and presenting the results.

you widen your eyes as you find your name with 3632 offers, "geez... thats a lot.."

"now since you all have made a name for yourselves today you all will be figuring out your hero names." states aizawa, "to help with that midnight will be monitoring over you all" he says welcoming midnight to the front before walking out.

you look at the slate on your table. cmon... whats a hero name i can use..? you think groaning slightly.

"can you stop whining genso?! i cant concentrate!" barks bakugou as he hits you in the head with his slate.

huh. maybe genso isnt a bad hero name... you let out a small smile before quickly scribbling it on your board and raising your hand, "im ready..!"

midnight smiles beckoning you to the front, "okay.. im gonna be known as the elemental hero: genso" you state with a small smile.

"traditional japanese! i love it!" claps midnight with a happy smile on her face.

"HEY I MADE THAT NAME UP GENSO! YOU CANT JUST USE THAT AS YOUR HERO NAME-" yells bakugou as he shoots up.

"well then... i guess i can thank you for your brilliant nicknames" you grin playfully, sitting down.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

you stare at the paper of offers with your eyebrows furrowed. which offer do i choose...? theres so many..!

soon the bell rings causing you to stand up and place the papers in your backpack. slinging it over your shoulder you head your way out.

"genso..!" calls a voice from behind you, "wait up."

you turn and see bakugou glaring at you, "what is it?" you ask slightly intrigued.

"where are you gonna go for your offer..?" he asks gruffly looking to the side.

"uhh.. im not sure yet. why..?" you ask slightly confused to why he wanted to know.

"you should go for endeavor... one of your weakest elements is fire no..?" he says walking beside you.

you nod a bit, "huh.. your right, maybe i might go for him then. what about you?"

"im going for best jeanist. he is the no. 4 hero for a reason so i might as well see what hes all about.." he mutters.

"really?" you ask incredulously, "i would never see you going for him to be honest... hes so reserved and well.. your so- not reserved..?" you say trying to sound as nice as possible about your true opinion.

"you calling me a mess genso?" he snarls, glaring at you.

"no..! not at all..!" you chuckle sheepishly. "okay well maybe i was..." you admit scratching your neck. he chortles slightly, causing you to widen your eyes in shock. "no way you just laughed..."

he suddenly snaps back to his original self, "the fuck you say..?" he says setting off mini sparks in his palm.

"well.. it was nice seeing you bakugou but ill be off- bye....!" you exclaim, quickly running away.

bakugou stared at you running off, chuckling to himself lightly.

what is this feeling...?

previous parts: pt. 0 0 / pt. 0 1 / pt. 02 / pt. 03 / pt. 04 / pt. 05 / pt. 06 / pt. 07 / pt. 08 / pt. 09 / pt. 10 / pt. 11 / pt. 12 next part: your all caught up for now!

☆taglist! @katszumi @coolgirl458 @niktwazny303 @crumbycrumb3

[creedslove]

as a angst lover an idea came to my mind last night while listening to the song when i was your man by bruno mars. the reader is in a relationship with javi p but he doesn't spend time with him and acts toxic. eventually the reader leaves him and finds someone else (maybe javi g because he is a sunshine and opposite of our pena) one day javi p sees them in a bar or another place and he regrets what he did. just like in the song 🥲🥲🥲🥲

Javier Peña x f!reader

A/N: I'm sorry taking forever to write this down my darling ❤️

• you had fallen so hard for Javier it was shocking, you didn't even know it was possible to fall for someone like that, but you did and you couldn't fight that

• Javi was handsome, sweet and charming, and you were just so head over heels, you didn't even mind when people said that Javier wasn't as into you as you were into him

• you just loved him and you thought your heart would burst in your chest at how intense it was

• but just as your friends had noticed, Javier wasn't that into you, he liked you of course, but he thought that maybe you made him overwhelmed, you pressured him too much and it bothered him with how you were after him all the time, calling and wanting to hold him and kiss him in public

• he liked you, he liked the sex, he liked the attention, only when it was too much, then Javi liked to disappear

• he enjoyed spending time on his own, drinking, going out, seeing pretty girls

• and he very often ran out of patience with you, you were so clingy in his opinion he just went hours without calling or answering you

• and there were times he was just too tired to show up at your home for dinner, he just wanted to relax with a drink without you over him all the time

• and when you confronted him, he just went so angry, asking you how dare you to do so, and blaming you for his behavior, by saying he wouldn't do that if it was someone else

• you knew that was a very shitty behavior, but you created a lot of excuses for that, not wanting to see what was just in front of you

• Javier simply wouldn't defend you if any of his friends made disrespectful comments towards you or any jokes, he would just laugh and shrug it off

• you would just pretend nothing happened, always in hopes Javi would improve his behavior towards you and you two would go back to the honeymoon phase you missed so dearly

• but that never happened, and you drew the line when you found him kissing some other woman at the same bar he told you he was too tired to go to, and after that, you simply decided to break things up

• there wasn't a lot of yelling, as you felt apathetic, you didn't know what to say, too heartbroken to say anything other than cry and tell him how much you hated him

• Javier didn't try to apologize or make you stay, he was too broken for that, feeling guilty but also knowing it was for the best, you deserved better

• in the following couple of years you hadn't seen Javi and even if it hurt you a lot in the beginning, you managed to get over him and find someone else

• it was a handsome man also named Javi, but he was Javi Gutierrez, simply the sweetest and most loving man you'd ever met. He was a sunshine and he made you feel the most important person in the whole world

• Javier on the other hand, couldn't stop thinking of you, his guilt grew significantly at the same time he realized how much he truly missed you

• after you, he had never found anyone who was as beautiful as you were, as sweet, as loving towards him, and he couldn't help but think of how things would be like if you had stayed, if he hadn't screwed things up with you

• he decided to cool down a bit and go for a few drinks, he went to that old bar you two used to go, the same one he had cheated on you and he couldn't believe his eyes the moment he saw you with another man

• he seemed to make you really happy as you had your arms around his neck, kissing his lips softly and giggling

• Javier also noticed a big diamond ring on your finger, the kind of ring he would never be able to afford, and he couldn't deny that it stung to see you with another man, even if he didn't deserve you

____

[leasstories]

Timeless

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

No trigger warning, just fluff.

WC ≈ 1.5K

Based on Timeless by Taylor Swift

January 1987,

You’ve been walking in the streets of Indianapolis when an antique shop comes into view. You enter the shop and stop at the counter where thousands of old photos are on display. Most of them are photos of couples from different period of times. The sign says: ‘Photos, 25 cents each”. All of those old photos make you think of your relationship with your boyfriend, Eddie. 

The first photo you came across was a black and white photo of a bride in the ‘30s, it made you think of how much you would love to be Eddie’s bride, it makes you imagine what your dream wedding with the love of your life would look like. You think about how you would definitely marry Eddie in a heartbeat. It makes you daydream about how he might propose and about how, if one day he does, your gonna throw yourself at him.

You then saw the photo of school lovers laughing on the porch of their first house. It reminds you of the day you and Eddie moved in together. After the events of the Upside Down, Eddie and you didn’t lose a second, seeing Eddie battling for life in the hospital made you realize that your love for him is the kind of love you find only once in a lifetime. Eddie got out of the hospital in May 1986, with the financial compensation that the state gave the both of you, you bought a small trailer at Hawkins trailer’s park. You officially moved in together in June 1986 and have been living together ever since. You were the one nursing his wounds, you are the one who is here for him, in the middle of the night when he wakes up from a nightmare. You know that you’ll be here for him for as long as he allows you to be. Eddie is for you, the kind of love that you don’t put down, you cling to it for as long as you can. Even if Eddie despises conformity, you and Eddie are High School Sweetheart, you met in school and started dating during his second senior year. And this photo reminded you of that, it reminded you of how Eddie and you, are the American Teenage love story. Your first date was in a shitty drive in, your first kiss behind the bleachers and your first ‘I love you’ in the confines of Eddie’s bedroom. You first moved in together before graduating, and almost a year later, your shared trailer feels more like home than your respective childhood homes. 

You came across photos of couples in 1944, photos of women reading letters from their beloved who left to fight for the war, and at that moment, you realized that even if you met Eddie at that time, and were one of those women, you would have been waiting for him. 

At some point you spotted a photo of a teenage couple holding hands, on their way to a dance, the date said 1958. You took the photo in your hands and smiled. You feel like time stopped and remember the first time you saw Eddie. You remember that you were in Junior High and you were already intrigued by this little boy. You remember that, despite his buzzcut at the time, the first thing you thought of him was that he was pretty. Eddie and you were two grades apart, but from the moment you saw him to the moment he left Junior High, you kept admiring from afar. Then, you went to High School and your fascination turned into warmth into the pit of your stomach. During Eddie’s first senior year (and your Sophomore year), you finally realized that you had a crush on Eddie. Then you had the courage to join Hellfire. When Eddie said “hello” is when you story started. You didn’t have any hopes of being Eddie’s girlfriend. Eddie didn’t seem to date, but you took the opportunity to get to know him and spend time with him. And once you got to know him, you became head over heels, Eddie wasn’t only a good looking guy, deep down, he was also a real sweetheart.  You knew that there will never be anyone else than Eddie. Your heart belonged to him the minute he said “Hello” when you approached him to join the Hellfire Club. All of these memories, all of your story with Eddie, you are so scared to forget it all. 

You got out of your trip down the memory lane and came upon an old book, covered in cobwebs. When you open the book and start reading it, you realize that it is the story of a romance torn apart by fate. This story is your worse nightmare and reminds you that you almost lost Eddie in March of last year, it reminds you that fate almost teared you apart. It’s a story taking place a century ago. The couple fell in love just like you did with Eddie, they were teenage sweethearts too, the man died for the woman the same way Eddie almost died to protect you. And you know that you would die for him in the same way, Eddie is the most important person of your life. 

All of those pictures and stories made you realize that if you were forced to marry another man, your heart would still be Eddie’s. You would hide from your husband and read Eddie’s love letters every single nights. You would end up running away, leaving your life behind. Eddie still would be yours. You believe that the two of you were supposed to find each other and that in any lifetime, Eddie would be yours and you would be his. 

Times does affect your body, it’s scientific, but you know it won’t touch your soul, it won’t change your love for Eddie. In 50 years, you still see yourself love Eddie. Eddie’s always going to be yours and you are always going to be his. You know your love is timeless. You know that when you’ll be old and gray, you’ll keep loving him. You know you’ll have a cardboard full of photos laying in front of you. Photos of the life that Eddie and you have made. 

As those photos and this book made you think of Eddie, you went back on the streets and searched for a call box. As soon as you find it, you put all of your cents in the machine and dial your trailer’s phone number. 

“You’ve reached Eddie Munson, what can I do for ya?” Eddie asks.

“Baby!” You say, excited and out of breath.

“Sweets, where are you? Is everything okay?” Eddie asks, concerned.

“Yeah, yeah everything okay. I was just missing you.” You say softly.

“I miss you too, where are you?” Eddie asks again. “Still in Indianapolis?”

“Yes. Eddie I came across an antique shop and there were so many photos of couples. And it’s so hard to explain, but I saw us on those photos instead. It made me realize that somehow, I know that you and I would have found each other, even in another life. Even if we met in 1944 and you were headed off to fight in the war, you still would’ve been mine. I would have read your love letters every nights, praying that you’d be coming home all right. I would’ve impatiently waited for your return and then you would’ve proposed and we would have married each other once the war was over.” 

“You’re so cheesy” Eddie says, you can hear the smile in his voice. “But I also believe that we are timeless, that no matter what we would have found each other. Don’t say anyone I said this but I believe we are two halves of the same soul an that no matter what, we were destined to find each other.”

“And now who’s the cheesy one” You say smiling from ear to ear.  You can hear the bip of the call box indicating that your calling time is almost over.

“Eddie, I have to hang up but I love you, so much. See you tonight.”

A few days after this phone conversation, Eddie proposed to you. He wrote an acoustic song (which is really rare for Eddie) inspired by your phone call, a song telling you how much he loves you and how you and Eddie would have found each other in any other lifetimes. And in the cardboard you made, where you gathered all of your photos with Eddie, you added your engagement photo. A photo of you, arm wrapped around Eddie’s neck your body pressed tight against Eddie’s, tears of happiness rolling down your cheeks. You and Eddie both know it’s only the beginning and that in a few decades from now, the cardboard will be filled with memories, because you are meant for each others. 

In every scenarios, every period of time you could have been living in, you imagine your heart belonging to Eddie. You and Eddie, your love story, really is timeless. 

Taglist: @abellmunsonmovie

[kingdaddydaichi]

☆ title: redefining (ch. 11) | ( ch. 10 ) ☆ ( ch. 12 - wip )

☆ pairing: cop!daichi sawamura x single mom!reader

☆ wc: 2.5k

☆ synopsis: four years after leaving your toxic ex, you find yourself a single mom to a 11-year-old boy named musubi, who harbors a lot of misdirected anger. you hear from his fifth grade teacher, mr. suga, more often than your own mother and a resulting friendship is born. meeting suga’s best friend wages a war between your head and your heart - one that challenges everything you think you know about love and police officers. neither are to be trusted. both have left you lost and scared when you needed them the most. so, when a cop comes knocking at love’s door, just how strong is your resolve to keep your heart under lock and key?

☆ warnings/notes: sfw. cop!daichi. mutual pining. angst. domestic disturbance. fear. idk like, the way daichi talks to subi might come across as patriarchal? but it's the way i feel like daichi would speak to him under the specific circumstances, how he knew he would get through to him. i am deeply sorry for the massive real-life time gap between chapters //sob. but i'm committed to finishing this series. my love for daichi and this story is settled deep inside my bones. I'M BACK BITCHES /aff ���🏼

she's falling in love now losing control now fighting the truth trying to hide but i think it's alright, girl yeah i think it's alright, girl

losin control - russ

Life can be a rip-roaring bitch sometimes, y'know?

The first week or so after your fallout with Daichi had been relatively easy. The fact that you were still angry at him helped a lot more than you'd have liked to admit. The battle to get him off your mind was constant, but all you had to do was remember the way his eyebrows angled inward when he yelled at you. You’d never seen him like that before and it had scared you, triggering your fight or flight response on top of the heart-wrenching pain of seeing him being a little too friendly with his ex.

But what you kept pushing down with all of your might was the fact that daichi was right. He had called you on everything you’d worked so hard to hide from him. The fact that he’d seen you so clearly scared you more than the look in his eyes when he raised his voice at you. He had been angry, yes. But a lot of hurt had weaved its way into his words as well.

Halfway through the second week, however, things started to go downhill. You found yourself reaching for your phone a couple of times to tell Daichi about something ridiculous or funny that had happened only for your fingers to stop short as your heart sank.

Oh. right. I'm not supposed to do that anymore.

You’d even tried venting to Suga about Daichi in hopes that he would validate you, but he wasn’t as sympathetic towards your plight as you would’ve liked: “But isn’t this what you wanted?” he'd said. “You’ve been saying that whatever the hell was going on between you two had an expiration date…” “You’re right. It’s probably better this way so you and Daichi can each find the people you wanna be with...” That last one had really dug deep - the thought of Daichi with anyone else made your heart splinter and your stomach wretch. But you had swallowed your heartache down with the lump in your throat and nodded with a meek “Yeah, exactly,” knowing deep in your bones that you didn’t mean a word of it. Suga knew it too.

The week after that was the week from hell. Crying in bed every night because you missed Daichi so much was made that much worse by your shitty week. Life could’ve just given you a normal week but NOPE. Every single day, multiple times a day, you’d pick up your phone to send him an angry text about your boss or the rude ass lady at the grocery store. Or the fact that some really, really important notarized legal documents got lost in the mail. Three trips to UPS, two trips to the post office, and $91.00 later the paperwork finally reached its intended destination via next day air. You wanted to ask him to arrest the incompetent twat who put your mailer on the wrong truck in the first place and then smile at his reaction. To top it all off, your son’s behavior had hit an all-time low. You’d been hoping that it would’ve improved after the disciplinary hearing, which Subi had attended as well but, if anything, his behavior at home had gotten worse too.

You wanted to call Daichi. You wanted him to come over and hold you as you curled into a ball against his chest. To feel his hands in your hair and his lips on your forehead telling you that ‘everything’s gonna be okay’. Because you’d believe it If Daichi was the one saying it. He’d make sure of it. But you couldn’t do any of those things and it made you cry. Like getting kicked when you’re already down.

Daichi didn’t have it much better. 

He’d called and apologized to Yui, who had called him a “fucking asshole”. There was the drunk driver who had puked on him while doing his field sobriety test (he probably deserved that, he’d guessed). Then there was the day he got stuck directing traffic in a torrential downpour. The police-issued waterproof ponchos had done nothing for his wet socks and the sloshing in his shoes. 

There were also all the little annoying things that kept happening to him - his washing machine quit working (mid-cycle, no less), he got a flat tire (in a different torrential downpour), he stubbed his toe one morning while getting out of bed (talk about a rude awakening) - nothing too serious but just enough to piss him off. 

The worst of it was finding out his mom had to be hospitalized for Covid. She had to be on oxygen, but the prognosis was good. She was expected to be okay and eventually make a full recovery, but of course it made him worry about her nonetheless.

And through every bit of it, you were on his mind. He missed you something fierce. But some of the things you’d said still weighed on his heart:

“...how cruel can you be?” “You’re not even my type.” “Just go back in there and fuck your ex-girlfriend!”

That last one had hurt the most. Did you really think that lowly of him to think he’d do that to you? 

To be fair, he also remembered some of the things he’d said to you:

“Would you have liked it better if i’d introduced you as my fuck buddy…?” “What? Not toxic enough for ya?” “...you don’t have to be a jealous girlfriend about it…!”

They made him cringe every time he remembered. Sometimes the words you had thrown at each other kept him up at night.

Tonight was one of those nights…

Daichi was reading in bed, trying to take his mind off of you when his phone buzzed on his nightstand. Thinking it must be work-related at this time of night, he picked it up to see who was calling. When he saw your name on the screen, his heart wanted to claw its way out of his chest. What could you possibly want? Best case scenario was you wanted to apologize, but that could wait until tomorrow. If you didn’t want him to make you a priority anymore, he was going to honor that. Worst case scenario was you were reaching out to him for another booty call, and he was done with that. 

Either way, he let your call go to voicemail, but just as he was about to put his phone back down, your text came through as three little numbers:

911

Daichi sat bolt upright and immediately tapped the call button. Halfway through the first ring, you answered. “Daichi?” You were crying and he could hear a young man’s voice yelling in the background.

He sat forward in his seat, wide brown eyes darting this way and that. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Subi,” you cried. There was a loud bang accompanied by a muffled sob from you. “He threatened to hurt me and now he’s throwing things…”

Before you could say anything else, daichi was on his feet, throwing on a pair of sweats and a hoodie before heading for his front door. “You at home?”

“Y-yes.” you were crying so hard you were wheezing. “Daichi, please…please help?”

“I’m on my way.” His voice was remarkably low and stern and comforting as he told you to go inside your bedroom, lock the door, and stay there. He made sure you didn’t have any injuries and stayed on the phone with you for the 10 mins it took for him to get there. It normally took twice that long to drive from his place to yours, but he had his blue lights on, going well over the speed limit. 

“Daichi, I’m so scared,” you sobbed. 

“I’m almost there, (y/n). Just five more minutes. Come on, deep breaths.” He talked you down enough that you weren’t crying as hard. “Alright, I’m here. Do you know if he’s still in the house?” 

“Yeah, I can hear him. But the front door is locked.” 

“Do you feel safe enough to come out of your room and open it?” 

You’d heard Subi’s voice getting further away and the slamming of his bedroom door. “Yeah, I think so.” 

You slowly came out of your room and hurried to the front door, nearly collapsing in Daichi’s arms when you swung it open. He hugged you and told you everything was okay. He walked inside slowly, noticing some broken glass and other, obviously thrown, objects on the floor, and called your son’s name. Your pre-teen came out of his bedroom to find a man he didn’t recognize standing in the living room. 

“Who’re you?” he asked. 

“I’m Daichi, a friend of your mom’s. You must be Musubi.” 

Musubi narrowed his eyes at him and shrugged in response. 

“What’s been going on, man?” 

Your son crossed his arms over his chest. “Maybe it’s none of your business.” 

Daichi’s dark brown eyes remained steady on him. “Well, seeing as how your mom is my friend and she’s scared and crying, I’d say it is my business.” 

The boy rolled his eyes. “Whatever. It’s not that big of a deal-“ 

“Wrong again. Your mom doesn’t feel safe in her own home. That’s a problem. It’s just the two of you living here, right?” 

Subi shrugged. “Yeah, so?”

“Then that makes you man of the house, doesn’t it?” 

Your son’s eyes met Daichi’s for the first time since he first spoke to him. “Yeah, I guess.” 

“And as the man of the house, don’t you think it’s your job to protect everyone in it, including your mom?” 

The boy didn’t respond, but his facial muscles relaxed as he maintained eye contact with Daichi. He had his undivided attention now. He was speaking to him man to man and your son was listening intently. 

“It’s a big responsibility to be in your position,” Daichi went on, nodding towards you. “Your mother and her safety are under your watch. She doesn’t feel safe with you when you’re the one who’s supposed to be protecting her.” The off-duty police officer's voice remained calm and even as he tilted his head. “So tell me, Musubi: do you really think you’re qualified to be man of the house?” 

You watched and listened with awe as Daichi took command over the situation, showing Subi what it means to be in full control. He leveled with your son while making him feel validated and understood. Rather than telling Subi how he should talk to you, Daichi did far more by showing him what it means to be a good man; he was teaching Subi how to treat others with respect in the way he spoke to him - by demonstrating to him that you get respect from others by being respectable.

Your son’s gaze fell under the weight of Daichi’s words. His beliefs about what it means to be a “man” had just been challenged and shaken to the core. He thought it meant being loud and aggressive, lording over others, calling the shots and expecting others to submit to him - no doubt all the tactics he’d learned from watching his father. 

“You think you’re in control here? Because, from where I’m standing, it doesn’t look like it.” The boy’s gaze followed Daichi’s as he looked around at the broken items in the room before looking over at you, still trembling and sniffling. “If you lose control, it means you don’t have it, Musubi. It’s that simple. Do we have an understanding?” 

The boy’s eyes locked with Daichi’s again and he nodded. 

“Good man. Now,” Daichi said with quiet authority, “Clean up the mess you made.” It wasn’t a request.

“Yes, sir,” Subi murmured as he started picking up the pieces. 

You couldn’t believe the words that just came out of your son’s mouth. Yes, sir? You looked up at Daichi - The Musubi Whisperer - wide-eyed and slack-jawed. Never even raised his voice and had him under his complete command. 

“(Y/n), can I talk to you for a minute in the kitchen?” Daichi said it just loudly enough that your son could hear how his mother should be talked to - by asking, not demanding. 

“Of course.” You followed Daichi until your son was out of earshot, then whispered, “How the fuck did you just do that?” 

Daichi shrugged. “I’ve had a lot of experience. Oldest of 5 kids. Team captain. Cop.” You smiled and nodded, wiping the last of your tears away. He put a tentative hand on your shoulder. “You okay, (y/n)?” 

“I think so,” you sniffed, wiping your freshest tear away with your shirt sleeve. “I’m so sorry to have troubled you, but you were the first person i thought of-” 

Daichi shook his head and pulled you into his arms. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m glad you called me.”

Whether it was the catharsis from the highly charged situation or your need to feel Daichi close was irrelevant when you fastened yourself to him. Before you could think, your arms were around his waist and your head tucked against his chest. 

“Thank you,” you said, your shaky voice muffled by the warmth and weight of Daichi’s arms wrapping tightly around you.

“If it happens again, call me again. If you need anything at all, call me,” he said, rubbing your back. This was the Daichi you’d known all along and fucking hell, you missed him.

You tightened your hold around his waist. You were so immensely relieved to hear him say that. Maybe he still wanted to be the one you called. Just maybe he wanted to be the one you needed. 

“I will,” you said, nodding against his chest.

Before he left that night, he shook Subi's hand. “Take care of your mom.” 

“Yes, sir.” Holy hell, there it was again. Daichi hadn’t even told him to call him sir. Leastways, not with words. How did he do that?

“Do I have your word?” Daichi asked, squeezing Subi’s hand. “Yes, sir.”

“Alright, I’ll stop by in a couple days to see how things are going," he looked at you, "...if that's okay." 

Your son’s lips pursed as he fought back a smile as he watched you nod. “Okay.” 

After Daichi left, Subi said, “You should find a guy like him, Mom.”

Your mouth dropped open, your heart skipping a million beats. Your son had no idea who Daichi was, what he did for a living, or the highly complicated nature of your relationship with him. Finally, you smiled and said, “Yeah? He’s a good guy, huh?”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “He’s alright.”

Your son turned to you with his shoulders slumped and tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Mom.” 

Your body shook with tears as you nodded against his shoulder. “I know, baby. I love you so much.” 

Subi squeezed you tighter as he told you he loved you too.

ch. 10 ☆ ch. 12 (wip)

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[thesoftboiledegg]

"Analyze Piss" was a great episode but not what I expected, which made it hard to write a review at first. I assumed that most of the episode would take place in Dr. Wong's office with Rick hashing out some of his issues. Admittedly, I guess that's what happened in a more indirect (and more entertaining) way.

When Jerry's fight with Pissmaster went on for a good couple of minutes, I was like...are we seriously spending valuable screentime on this? But I guess we needed to see Jerry being a badass and humiliating Pissmaster to understand why the world was fawning over him.

The topic of change keeps coming up this season. People tell Rick that he won't change, and he doesn't want to, but he IS changing. Unfortunately, no one seems to notice.

He tries to tell Jerry that acting like a superhero is a bad idea. The family boos him. He tells them at the end of the episode that he knew Jerry's adventures would fall apart, and they boo him again.

Rick tells them that they're only praising him for trying to change because they want to feel superior--and maybe he's right. In their minds, THEY don't have to change anything. HE does. And it's 100% true that Rick's fucked up a lot of shit, he's been abusive, he's hurt Morty in ways that he probably can't atone for, and he needs therapy more than anybody.

But they talk about his therapy visits in a condescending way, like "Aww, that's so cute! Are you going to change for us, Rick? Are you going to be docile and passive?" They praise him when they think that Rick concocted some crazy plan to boost Jerry's ego for no reason. When they learn the truth, they turn on him again.

I won't say that he doesn't deserve it. They don't owe him anything, and they'd be well within their rights to kick him out of the house and never talk to him again. But Rick didn't create the toxic family dynamic that Beth and Jerry had been cooking up for 16 years before he showed up. I think they're telling themselves that everything that happens is his fault, and he's getting to the point where he's kind of letting them think that.

Rick smiles to himself when the Smiths leave with Jerry on his ship (although he does drink from his flask) and ignores a couple of the bad guys tailing him. When they start fighting each other and leave him alone, he thinks that he's got it all figured out.

But inevitably, he starts to fall apart. He gets drunk and hears people at the bar mocking Pissmaster. "Who could relate, being that much of a piece of shit?" Rick can. He and Pissmaster aren't that different--they provoke people, they're pieces of shit and everyone wants them to be the villain. He's going to visit Pissmaster so they can drink beer and bond over their shitty lives.

He arrives to find that Pissmaster killed himself. Through the door, Rick hears Pissmaster's daughter apologize and say that she's worried about him, she loves him and she'd blame herself if something happened to him--all things that Rick would love to hear from his own daughter, and probably never will hear. At least not in that same fretful, emotional tone.

Everything goes to shit for everyone except Pissmaster's daughter, who believes that her father died a hero. Admittedly, Rick shouldn't have told Morty about the note--it's understandable that he'd want someone to know the truth, but he can't trust a 14-year-old kid with that information, and he needs to stop seeing Morty as his peer anyway. He should've taken it to Dr. Wong.

But telling the truth just makes the Smiths turn on him again. And after all that, why should Rick change? Why be honest? Why not play the roles that they want him to play: the aggressive villain or the docile old man, or both?

Sometimes, the people around you don't want you to change even if it's for the best. I don't think the Smiths want anything to change. That would force Beth and Jerry to face their shitty marriage and the ways they abused and neglected their children, especially Morty, and that's not going to happen.

Just keep blaming everything on the drunk old man in the garage.

But Rick IS changing. In seasons 1-4, Rick would have taken the fact that they believed that he was always Pissmaster as an opportunity to gloat and manipulate everyone. Here, he just looks at them sadly. He tries to talk Jerry out of doing something that he knows will end badly. He desperately tells Morty the truth because he's sick of lying. And the entire premise of the episode is based on Rick willingly going to therapy.

Seasons five and six have countless moments that show that Rick's trying to grow up, show affection, be a father figure, admit to his fuckups and treat Morty gently. Even in season four, he was starting to cut the bullshit a little.

And it must be hard on him. Everything was easier when he was a monster. Beth loved him, Jerry was out of the way and he did whatever he wanted with no guilt, fear or regret while suppressing his trauma and shame. Wouldn't it be easier to be the heartless patriarch who can manipulate his family into doing anything? Go on adventures? Cook and clean for him? Stop talking to Jerry? Show him affection? Actually want to be around him? Make him feel human again?

There's no going back even if he tried--they know him too well now. And he shouldn't go back because he was a monster destroying his entire family. But he needs the Smiths' affection and encouragement if he's going to get anywhere because he's not going to get it from himself.