#chilli checklist

[justisaisfine]

This little bluey moment made me ugly cry so now it’s a sticker 🤓✨

[katiexpunk]

Desert Dust | Joel Miller's POV

Summary: The last place Joel Miller expected to find himself at this point in his life was in a small highway town in Arizona, passing the days by. He never really though he needed more -- until he met you.

Warnings: This is Joel's POV from Desert Dust. Yeah, if you thought he was a consent king in the original, this just further proves it. Tommy comes with his own cheeky warning. No age gap mentioned (make it your own), but Joel mentions feeling old. Joel Miller has a bad back (it's canon). Self-deprecation. Attempted assault (not by Joel)/nothing too graphic (please be responsible about what you consume). Joel beats up a bad guy., and like actually kinda wants to kill him for trying to hurt you. References to blood and first aid. Alcohol. Pet names. Flirting/slow burn. Inexperienced reader. Body hair. References to taste of vagina. Smoking/cigarettes (it's bad, don't do it). Oral (f receiving). Praise kink. Rough sex. Sex on a desk. Just a really passionate, filthy fuck. Creampie (shocker, I know). No use of Y/N, no use of daddy. TLOU au. Reader has no physical descriptions apart from female anatomy.

W/C: ~8K

A/N: Thank you for all of the love on Desert Dust. Nobody asked for this, but I couldn't get Joel's POV outta my head, so I hope you enjoy a little deep dive into what Joel was thinking when he first walked into that restaurant. Your honor, they're in love. Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Notifications

Did you ever see a robin weep When leaves begin to die? Like me, he's lost the will to live I'm so lonesome I could cry

The timbre of Hank Williams’ voice fills the truck's cab as Joel drives. It’s early, the sky is just beginning to transition from a deep midnight blue to a gradient of warm orange as the sun gradually emerges. While Joel likes to think of himself as a morning person, his back has other opinions on the matter. It’s to be expected, though, that’s what nearly 30 years of hard labor will do to a man.

The warmth of the thermos in between his thighs contrasts with the chilly morning air pouring in through the cracked window. Smoke dances lazily around his broad frame, a burning cigarette clenched between his calloused fingers. He greedily draws long drags, knowing it’ll be hours before he can have another one. He should quit, he knows he should quit. The half-used pack of Nicorette gum that sits in his cupholder in front of him is proof of that. 

But like picking at a scab or peeling the skin of a sunburn, sometimes we all do things we know we shouldn’t, things that make us feel good, if only for just a minute or two. 

In truth, there isn’t a lot that makes him feel good anymore. Jesus, when did he turn into such a grumpy old man? Probably sometime between Sarah going to college, and Tommy convincing him to take this contract job in the middle of fuck all nowhere.

The silence of a falling star Lights up a purple sky And as I wonder where you are I'm so lone–

Williams’ voice falls silent as Joel turns off the truck, having pulled into the work site. He snubs out the cigarette into the ashtray in the middle of the dash and grabs his jacket, a clipboard, and safety helmet. 

“Another day, another dollar,” he mutters to himself, pulling the handle on the driver's side door. The ground crunches below him, his boots are so dusty he doesn’t think he’ll ever get them clean again. God damn desert dust. He shakes his head and walks to the white trailer in front of him, unsure of why he’s so frustrated in the first place.

“Well aren’t you a ray of fucking sunshine this morning,” Tommy says, responding to the quick snap of the door after Joel enters their makeshift office. 

“Don’t,” Joel bites back.

“What’s got your panties in a twist this morning, princess?” Tommy chides, sitting behind a wooden desk covered in blueprints and safety checklists. 

“This really the way you want to start the day, Tommy?” Joel says, voice low and even, masking his emotions. “Just, get to work.” 

He rounds around to the desk opposite Tommy’s and places everything down. The ripped chair lets out a little puff of air under his weight as he sits. 

Tommy, of course, knows what’s eating at Joel. He needs to get fucking laid. 

Tommy can’t even remember the last time he saw Joel with a woman it’s been so long. He was always so focused on Sarah, or growing the company, that he always put himself last. He’s tried to set Joel up on dates, but he always declines, citing he’s too busy or maybe next month. 

And while Tommy doesn’t say anything, it’s as if Joel can practically hear his thoughts. 

“Would you stop thinking so damn loud,” Joel mutters, and Tommy gives him a knowing smirk. “‘M fine. Worry about how we’re gonna finish this project and less about me,” Joel tells him. They both return their attention to their work.

As Joel works to finish up his administrative tasks before the rest of the crew arrives, he tries to shove down the annoyance he feels that maybe Tommy might be right. Maybe it has been too long, besides, rutting his cock into his fist in the shower every night is starting to get old. 

He’s not intentionally trying to avoid meeting someone, it’s just that nobody’s ever really caught his attention, not in any genuine way. He knows he’s attractive, but it might as well be poison to him for the types of women he attracts – it’s all fake tits, tight jeans, and money-hungry cougars just looking for someone to show them a good time. 

Just as he starts to think all of the good girls might be gone – he meets you.

++++ 

God, either this booth is uncomfortable or his back is getting worse. He tries to relieve some of the pressure by hunching over for a second. Nope, that’s worse. He sits up to full height and that’s a little better, for now, at least. He looks at the menu in front of him. He thinks about ordering a burger, but with how busy it is, he’s not confident it would come out in time before his lunch break ends. Besides, he told Tommy he would be back in less than 30. 

He didn’t intend to stop, he was just looking for an excuse to clear his head. But when he went to grab his coffee, he realized he had left it on his desk. He’d taken the highway exit to get to the restaurant by chance, hoping he might find a Starbucks or something quick. But nope, as it usually goes in small towns, the only coffee place nearby is where he currently sits. 

He notices you coming up to the table out of the corner of his eye and turns his head to look at you. 

Shit – you’re beautiful. He thinks he might have died and gone to heaven. He watches as your thighs come flesh with the edge of the table, a coffee pot in your hand. 

"Hi," you say, he notices your voice is soft. "Can I get you something to drink?"

He’s so fucked. You even sound pretty. 

Your eyes find him, and he swears he feels something shift, electricity courses through him. You’re the first person to look at him, actually look at him, in years. He tries to keep his face level, not wanting to give away any of what he’s thinking. 

His eyes drift down to your chest until he notices the nametag pinned to your shirt. Cute name. It matches your pretty face. He internally chuckles to himself when he notices the coffee stains and what he thinks might be ketchup on your shirt. It makes him smile, mostly because he’s no stranger to wearing food himself, although you’re a waitress, it makes more sense to him that you’d be a little messy, a little dirty. He doesn’t quite have the same excuse. 

Distracted, it dawns on him that he’s probably staring. Stop being weird, she doesn’t need some old man gawking at her while she’s just trying to do her job, you fucking creep. 

He moves his eyes to the coffee pot in your hand. Right. The whole reason he’s here in the first place. 

 "Just coffee, darlin'," he says, watching as you pour some into the mug that was already waiting on the table. 

“You let me know if I can get you anything else,” you whisper.

He thinks he might pass out when he sees your smile. So, so fucked. 

“Just coffee for me today, sweetheart, thank you.” 

He internally grimaces when he realizes he’d let sweetheart slip, hoping it didn’t weird you out. You can take the man out of the South, but you can’t take the South out of the man. He tries not to stare as he watches you walk away, but he can’t help himself. 

Sitting in silence, he nurses his coffee and tries to ignore the annoying glances that he seems to be getting from, well, everyone. He feels like he might as well have a giant arrow above his head screaming I’m horny for the waitress. He knows he’s looking at you more than he should, but like a moth to a flame, he just can’t seem to look away. He wonders how long you’ve worked here, and what your story might be. He wonders if you’re happy. Why the hell would he be wondering that? He just met you, for fucks sake. 

He’s just another customer. 

The establishment itself is pretty much what’d you expect for a small-town dive, the smell of grease and hamburgers wafting through the air. The portions are huge, and the coffee is good. There’s just one annoying thing about it, and he quickly learns her name is Tracy. 

He only knows this because she’s quick to offer it up, calling him baby and sugar, pestering him like a fly. She’s attentive in a way that’s forced, suffocating in every possible way. He can tell she’s the type of woman who craves the attention of any man who’s willing to give her the time of day, the type of woman that lets her boobs do all the talking. He’s lonely, yes, but he’s not desperate. He wants nothing more than for you to refill his coffee, just so he can hear your voice again, but she makes it near impossible. 

More than three cups of deep, but still bone tired, he feels his phone vibrate in his jeans and he knows it’ll be Tommy asking where he’s at. He pulls it out and sure enough. He looks around the restaurant, hoping maybe he might be able to cash out with you, but you’re nowhere to be seen. 

He opens his worn leather wallet, the same one he’s had since Sarah gifted it to him all those years ago, only to find a handful of $20s. He drops one on the table and decides it’s not worth it to ask Tracy for change; he could go the rest of his life never talking to her again and be fine with it. 

He silently slips out of the restaurant, and his curiosity about you nearly drowns him on the drive back. 

But this time when he walks into the trailer, he can’t help the cheesy grin that involuntarily appears on his face. 

“Who are you and what have you done with my brother?” Tommy teases, his words slightly muffled from the bite of PB&J in his mouth, the sticky tack of peanut butter glued to the roof of it. 

“Shut up,” he says, but there’s no bite behind it. 

++++

The days turn into weeks, and he tries to step away from work, he does. Every day he tries to find an excuse to go in and see you, a reasonable time to step away for an hour or so. But it’s hard, project demands are at an all-time high, and the client is up his butt, freaking out they won’t be done in time. He works overtime, arriving earlier than usual and leaving close to midnight nearly every night. 

Joel Miller is a lot of things, but above all, he’s a man of his word. He and his brother didn’t build this company by being late or half-assing work. We’ll get it done, he reassures the client. And they will, he’ll make sure of it. 

“Joel, get up man,” Tommy says, shaking his shoulder. He jolts awake, his vision a little fuzzy, slightly disoriented. 

He must have drifted off during his lunch break and passed out cold on his keyboard. When he finally comes to, he automatically feels a twinge in his lower back. He’ll pay for that little nap later, he can already tell. 

“You’ve been working too hard, why don’t you call it a day, go home, and get some sleep? I’ve got it here for the rest of today,” Tommy offers. As much as they fight, there is a mutual understanding there – respect, even love, although they’ll both never admit to that outright. 

He starts to protest, but the pain in his back tells him that maybe he’s right. Lord knows he could benefit from a hot shower and a good night's rest, but even those things, things that should be relaxing, don’t offer him any respite. When he’s not thinking about work, he’s thinking about you. Your kind, soft eyes, and warm smile have sunk their teeth into his mind, and no matter how hard he tries, he just can’t seem to shake you. 

A rather frustrating fact, considering you’ve probably forgotten all about him. Just another customer, he’s just another customer. 

On the drive back home, he realizes he’s not far off from the exit to the restaurant. You’re probably not even working, and he knows he might be risking seeing Tracy again, but fuck it.  Before he has time to talk himself out of the decision, he’s pulling into the parking lot. 

He’s surprised at how quiet the restaurant is, a lot different from his first visit. He looks at his watch, it’s close to 3 o’clock, and from the state of the place, he can tell the lunch rush likely just finished. He tries to not be obvious about the fact that he’s scanning the place, looking for something, someone. You. 

He sees you before you see him. You look – focused. He can tell you’re a little worn out, but fuck if you aren’t still adorable. He flexes his hand open and closed a few times, trying to calm nerves he didn’t even know he had anymore. 

He grins a little as you tell him to take a seat wherever you want, as he watches intently as you throw the final pieces of flatware into the bin. He’s kind of impressed with how quickly you cleaned up the mess, how easily you hoist the heavy bus bin onto your hip. 

When you finally notice him, he lifts his hand in a silent hello. 

You look cute when you’re surprised. He can tell he’s caught you off guard. Like you weren’t expecting him. He notices as you scan his body, taking him in. He wonders if you feel this too, whatever the fuck this is. 

“Oh, hi. Um, go ahead and take a seat, I’ll be with you in just a second, just gonna drop this in the back,” you say. The smile and obvious excitement that washes over your face tells him everything he needs to know. 

He’s a customer. But what if he was more than that? 

Jesus. 

No. 

He’s just a customer. 

He decides that the booth by the window looks decent enough. The booth and his back fight once more, but he eventually gets comfortable. When you greet him again, your smile and soft voice melt into him, making him forget all the stress of the past few weeks. It takes him a second before it dawns on him that he hasn’t responded to you, that he hasn’t said anything. Talk to her, say something…say anything. 

“I was, uh hoping you’d be here,” he says, realizing how cringe he probably sounds. Has he always been this bad at flirting?

But before he can recover, Tracy swoops in like a hawk, eager to monopolize his attention. He watches as you sink back into the depths of the restaurant, leaving him with her. No, come back. 

She's quick to bring him a menu, some coffee, and offer him a selection of homemade pies, her enthusiasm bordering on overwhelming. He’s being rather curt with her, not even trying to hide the fact that he’s not interested, but the more he seems to ignore her, the stronger she comes on. He’s a thin thread away from telling her to just fuck off, but he doesn’t want to be rude. Besides, he knows you’re busy. He might not get to talk to you this time, but he will – or at least he hopes he will – especially if everything goes according to his plan. 

He’s not even sure if what he intends to do can be classified as a plan. Hell, he’s just glad that he even has a spare business card in his wallet. 

He scans the dining room for you, and once he spots you, he rises from the booth and intentionally catches your eye. With the worn card in hand, folded between the folds of some cash, he hopes that you understand his message when he nods and tucks it under the coffee cup. Please call. He’s not sure he’s ever been more hopeful for anything, ever. 

He swings by the grocery store on his way home, picking up some beer and a frozen pizza, too tired to cook anything real for dinner. He sinks into the cushions of his couch and tries to drown out his hopefulness with the distraction of T.V. But, he’d be lying if he said his heart rate doesn’t quicken with every notification that comes through his phone. 

But you don’t call or text. 

He thinks that maybe you’re just trying to play it cool, not wanting to come across as too eager. 

But as the days go on, still not a peep from you, he tries to shove down the darker thoughts that cross his mind. Maybe he had misinterpreted the signals you were giving him, misread the energy that feels palpable when you’re next to each other. Maybe he’s just out of practice. Not your type. 

You don’t want him. Why would you? He’s just some contractor, an old washup. Probably one of dozens of men who spend their nights waiting, wishful and hungry for even just a glance from you. One of the dozens of men who spew hot loads of come onto their bellies alone at night brought to a tipping point thinking about how sweet you might sound chanting their name, how tight your pussy would feel gripped around their cock. 

Fuck. 

++++

Some weeks later, he’s pulling another late night at the job site. And when the fluorescent lights get to be too much, he decides to call it a night. He can’t quite put a finger on it, but there’s a gnawing in the pit of his stomach, a silent feeling like he should swing by the restaurant – maybe even apologize for coming on too strong or weirding you out. Before he can even rationalize what he’s doing, he’s once again pulling into the parking lot. Except – 

Somethings wrong. 

There’s only one car in the parking lot, and the neon open sign remains lit, but something feels…off. 

He can feel it, like some sort of primal instinct laying dormant in his body has woken up.

It all happens so fast, faster than his mind can register. When he sees you, struggling in the hands of some fucker, he intervenes. He moves fast, doesn’t think twice, just lets his body take over. He pulls the man off of you, adrenaline coursing through his veins, his blood red hot, and his jaw tense. 

“I’d think twice if I were you before you try and win this one,” he says, voice low and threatening. Don’t make me go to jail tonight. 

He’s not surprised he hits the guy as hard as he does. He barely feels it, the bone-crunching under his fist. He’d probably kill the guy if you weren’t right there, watching his every move. It’s not a fair fight, not really. Joel knows he’s bigger and stronger, and has the unfair advantage of being sober. He can tell he probably broke the guy's nose, and that’s probably punishment enough. He drags the man out of the establishment and tells him to get the fuck out and never come back. He hopes the warning is enough, the message clear that if he tries to touch you again, ever, it’ll end worse. He’ll make sure of that. 

He locks the door and turns to face you. You look so – scared. So innocent, shaken, like a baby deer who just saw its mother get hit by a truck. He even thinks for a second that you might be afraid of him, a thought that makes his heart sink. I would never hurt you. He brings both of his hands to the sides of your arms – keeping the touch intentionally light, with a gentle, reassuring grip. It’s okay, I’m here. You’re safe now. 

“You alright?” he asks, watching with concern as you try and put on a brave face. God, he hates to see you cry, hates that anything could ever make you cry. He can tell you’re trying to avoid looking at him, not wanting him to see your vulnerability.

It’s okay. No one is going to hurt you.  

He brings his hand up to cup your cheek and uses the edge of his thumb to tilt you up to look at him. God, you’re perfect. 

The hand that meets his is soft until a sharp sting comes to his attention. He watches as you grab his hand and bring it down to your eye level, noticing the blood on it, a giant split down the middle of one of his knuckles. Fuck that guy. He wishes he would have given him just a little more, maybe a black eye or two. 

"You're hurt," you say, the tears in your eyes now replaced with genuine concern. 

He can tell you’re worried about him, a fact that makes him feel a little fuzzy inside. 

"It's okay, don't worry about it, doesn't hurt," he tries to reassure you. And he is. He’s suffered worse, nothing that won’t be better in a day or two, even if it does sting like hell right now.

"We've got a first aid kit in the back. Let me clean you up," you insist, nodding towards the rear of the room.

He doesn’t want you to have to put up with that right now, especially after everything that just happened. 

"It’s alright sweetheart, you don't have to, really…" he protests.

"You just defended me. Bandaging your knuckles is the least I can do to thank you," you tell him firmly, leaving no room for refusal. 

Fuck, you’re so sweet. So perfect and sweet. You could ask him for the moon and he’d try to find a way to lasso it down for you. 

His heart quickens as you interlace your fingers with his on his left hand and guide him through the restaurant. He even chuckles a little to himself when you tell him to watch his step. You’re being so nice, he can’t be misinterpreting this – there’s no way. But why didn’t you call? The question weighs heavy on his mind. 

In the small office, you flick on the light switch and rummage through the cabinets until you find an old first aid kit tucked away in the back. He leans against the desk, quietly observing you, taking in the fact that he’s here, in this tiny office, with you. That you care enough to help him. That he cares enough to protect you. 

"Ah, got it," you say with a hint of excitement that you found the kit, a little surprised there was even one stashed away. Though most of the bandages and finger condoms are missing, there's still plenty of gauze and alcohol wipes.

His cock twitches a little when you rip open the alcohol wipe with your teeth, he thinks you might be good with your mouth in more ways than one. 

"This might sting a bit," you warn, meeting his gaze with genuine care. I can take it, baby. He can tell the way you’re being with him right now might be your nature, to want to take care of those around you. To be what they need. 

“‘You can make it up to me later,” he whispers, hoping you’re sensing the intention behind his words. As you’re patting the blood on his knuckles, he feels the need to know why you didn’t call bubble up to the surface, the question at the tip of his tongue. Oh just ask her. 

“Can I ask you something,” he says, looking down at you, not even realizing he’s holding his breath. He exhales when he hears you say mhmm in response. 

Rip off the fucking bandaid man. 

“Why didn’t you call?” 

He watches as you close your eyes and take a deep breath. “I wanted to. I mean, I almost did – I typed out so many texts to you it’s borderline embarrassing,” you pause for a second to grab the gauze from the counter behind him. As you lean in closer to him, you bring with you the soft scent of your shampoo. You smell like honey and the earthy, clove smell of tobacco. You smell divine.  

“I guess I’m just not used to being wanted. Don’t know how to do this kind of thing. I’ve been alone for so long, and I guess, I don’t know, Joel,” you affix a little piece of tape to the gauze, before dropping his hand, all finished. How could anyone not want you?

He watches you intently as you stand before him, grateful that you’re being so honest with him. He wishes so badly you would look him in the eye. 

“I didn’t want to embarrass myself. Not sure why a guy like you would even want a girl like me to call him anyway…” you trail off, letting out a small cough to hide the emotion creeping up in your throat. Is she joking?  

He floats his hands up to your hips, and he tugs you in closer to him, body weight still propped up against the desk, his thick thighs bracketing yours. You still avoid his eyes, your gaze seemingly fixed on a button on his shirt. 

“Look at me, sweetheart.”

His hand still hurts a little, a dull throb, but he could care less right now. He trails it up over the side of your body until his fingers land under your chin. Sweet girl. He uses his thumb to tilt you up to look at him. You look so beautiful right now, so raw and so perfect. The soft plush of your lips draws his attention, and he can’t help but touch them.

There’s so much he could say, so much he wants to say. He wants to build you up, to tell you that you’re worthy of the whole world. That you’re beautiful and kind, and that any man would be lucky to have you. He doesn’t even have to deeply know you to know those things. 

But he can tell from the look in your eyes that it’s not what you need right now. He’ll tell you someday. He’ll tell you every day if you’ll have him. 

But no. 

Right now you don’t need someone to tell you how gorgeous you are, you need someone to show you.

“Joel,” he hears you whisper, knowing full well that his thumb is still on your lower lip. He wants so badly to know what they’d feel like on his. 

“Ki–” 

Fuck it. 

He drops his hand and leans in to crash his lips into yours, and holy shit. He wants you so fucking bad. He’s never wanted anything, or anyone, more. 

He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth and his cock hardens when you let out a little whimper. He holds you tighter to his chest, his thick and capable hands admiring the soft curves of your hips. He needs more, needs to taste your skin, needs to know what it feels like on his lips. He dips his mouth to your neck, kitten-kissing you as delicately as he can. More, he needs more. 

He skims his injured hand underneath your shirt, caressing the skin between your shoulder blades. Jesus, you’re so impossibly soft, your skin feels like silk compared to his. He nips at your jaw, and the soft moan escapes your lips makes him feel feral. 

“Fuck, baby. Wanna go slow with you, take my time. Do it right,” he says, internally acknowledging how wrecked it comes out.

He trails his hand up and pulls the shirt of your uniform down over your breast, exposing the simple lacey bra. Ugh. It’s so much for him, the little moans you keep making for him as he kisses your neck, the way your nipples respond beneath the fabric to his touch.

“Wanna show you what you’re worthy of sweet girl, in all the ways,” he groans into your chest, and he means it.  

“I want you to fuck me so badly,” you blurt out, lost in the delusion of arousal. 

Fuck. Yes. 

His cock is rock hard, so stiff it’s almost painful. He doesn’t even remember the last time he was this hard. He wants so badly for you to just fall to your knees in this tiny little office and suck it. He wants so badly to hold the column of your throat while he shoves his thick cock into your wet and waiting mouth, feel him deep down your throat. More. He needs more. 

He hopes to god that you’ll chant his name like a prayer when he unravels you like a spool of thread. He can hear it in his head now, as he licks your soft skin and holds you against him. He can’t stop thinking about how pretty you’ll sound when you come for him.

“Patience, angel baby. You’re in good hands,” he purrs. 

“Can I undress you?” he asks. He wants you to know that you’re in control here, that hel’ll only do what you want him to and nothing more. You call the shots. 

You toe off your beat-up sneakers and work to take off your shirt and bra, and he works to unbutton your skirt. Fucking buttons. He thinks it’s cute the way you wiggle your hips to assist him in removing the barrier. After what seems like no time at all, you’re nearly fully nude in front of him, bare save the thin cotton of your panties. Perfection. You are perfection.

He frowns a little when he notices you cross your arms over your chest in an attempt to hide your body. 

“God damn, sweetheart. Look at you,” he says, taking a small step back and admiring the view. He thinks you’re a masterpiece, a piece of art holding court just for him to gaze at. He’s never really considered himself to be lucky, but he must have done something right to have you right here with him right now. 

He gently grabs the arm you’re covering yourself with and exposes your bare chest. Don’t hide, baby. 

“No need’ta hide from me,” he tries to reassure you. 

You push your chest out to him, for him. He accepts your offering; swipes a calloused thumb across your plush, silky nipple, and crouches to catch the other in his desperate mouth. He groans into your chest the second your nipple meets his lips. He smirks at the sound of the deep hum that escapes from your throat, lips still attached to your breast. 

“Feels so good, Joel,” you moan. Just getting started with you. 

He trails kisses down the valley of your breasts, across the soft swell of your stomach, doing his best to whisper sweet praises as he does. It feels so good, so natural when you drape your hands over his broad shoulders and thread your fingers through the curls. It’s been so long since he’s been touched like that, the feeling goes straight to his cock. More. More. More. 

He can tell you’re a little hesitant, maybe a little lost in your thoughts. He does his best to pull you back to him. On his knees, he places both of his hands on the curves of your hips and holds you steady while he looks up at you. You look so beautiful looking down at him, your lips slightly parted, your skin shiny from the sheen of sweat, your obvious arousal evident on your face. He wonders what he must look like to you. 

“Can I take these off, baby?” he asks, hooking his thumbs in the band of them. He wants to hear you say it, to permit him to cross that line. 

“You, um, you don’t have to. It’s okay, really…” you shy away. 

Please, he pleads to himself silently. 

He presses his nose into your mound and fuck, you smell so good, he can’t help but moan. 

“Smell so sweet, need to taste you, sweetheart. I won’t if you don’t want me to, but fuck, I would love to,” he says, and it’s true. He suspects you’ve never had a real man take care of you, taking the time to pleasure you to your heart’s content. A damn shame.

“O-kay,” you say on an exhale. 

“I gotcha, don’t worry,” he rasps out, his voice equal parts gentle, and gruff with desire. He wants to reassure you. 

He gently tugs the fabric down over your thighs, the fabric gathering at your ankles. You take a small step out of them, and he gently caresses up the back of your calve, and back of your thigh, his hand landing on the curve of your ass. He tightly grabs the flesh there. He gently guides your leg up onto one of his shoulders, and you press back into the wall and lean your pelvis closer to him. 

“Fuck, what a pretty little pussy,” he praises, before leaning in to place an experimental kiss on the top of your mound. He thinks this might be the most perfect pussy he’s ever seen in his life. Making sure you aren’t uncomfortable, he looks at you to make sure you’re okay with him continuing. 

He’s eager, and he’s sure it’s coming across in the way he’s kissing you. Once you’re comfortable with his mouth on you, he glides the middle finger of his non-bandaged hand through your wet slit before flipping it so it’s wrist up, pausing with the pad of it right at the entrance of your tight hole. 

He thinks he could come right there, with the way you’re looking down at him with lusty doe eyes and biting your lower lip. He watches your face as he gently nudges the tip in. Fuck, you’re so tight. He holds it there for a brief second, his restraint threadbare, before fully thrusting it up into your core. 

“Fuck angel, you’re tight,” he moans as he continues to feel you, eventually putting his mouth back on your pussy, sealing his lips around your puffy clit. He pumps his finger in and out of you and flicks and swirls his tongue where he can feel you need it the most. You’re so wet for him, so tight, so willing. If he weren’t already on his knees, he knows he’d fall to them eventually, he’d worship at your alter every day if you’d let him. 

“More,” you moan, “Fuck–please, Joel, give me more,” you mewle. 

“That’s my girl, gonna stretch you out, get you nice and ready for this cock,” he whispers against your wet skin as he slips another finger in, one you greedily accept. He devours you, licks at you like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted, because you are. He could stay here for hours, making you come for him again and again. 

He can tell you’re close, so he picks up his pace. You’re nearly there, seconds away from giving him what he wants. Just one more – 

“Holy shit, yes, I’m coming, oh my god, don’t stop,” you unravel for him, a babbling mess of pleasure, he holds you steady as he works you through it. Perfect, sweet girl. The taste of your release and the pretty sounds you make coming have his cock aching. He gently hoists your leg off of his shoulder and rises to full height. 

“Such a good girl for me, you come so pretty,” he whispers against your neck, nipping at your jaw until your lips find his. He wonders if you’ve ever tasted yourself before, or if he’s the first to kiss you after eating you out – the thought makes him even harder, to know he might be the first to show you how sweet you taste. 

He watches as you begin to kneel before him. He stops you before your knees touch the floor. 

“You don’t want me to suck your cock?” you ask. He does. Of course he does. He’s just not sure he’d last, but he’d never admit that, besides, there’s something he needs so much more right now. 

“Oh angel baby, I would love to feel those sweet little lips of yours wrapped tight around my cock, hold your throat as you choke on me,” he coos.

He groans as he feels you bring your palm to cup him through his jeans, drinking in the sensation of your hands tracing over him. His jaw tightens and his head falls back as you work over him. His cock welcomes the attention, too. He’s already leaking, he needs to come so bad.  

“But there’s something I want more right now. Feel what you do to me?” he says, pressing your hand harder down onto him. “Need to feel that sweet, tight cunt of yours around me first,” he says intensely. You make quick work of undoing his belt buckle and slip off his jeans and boxers in one swoop. It feels so good to be free of the confines of his pants, the pressure on his cock a little less overwhelming now. 

“Yo–you’re so big,” you say, a little intimidated. He grabs you by the hips and holds you tight against him, his cock pressed between your bodies against the bare flesh of your tummy. He can tell you might be a little overwhelmed, but he reassures you. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart. You can take it,” he says, using one hand to grab the back of your thigh and tapping the other. He lifts you with ease and spins you around so you’re sitting on the mahogany desk in front of him. He stands between your legs, holding himself by the base, pumping himself slowly up and down his length with his fist. He stares at your wet, aching hole, wishing he was buried inside of it. The thought dawns on him that he doesn’t have a condom. No, fuck. “I’m on birth control,” you say, blurting it out. “And I’m clean, you don’t have to use a condom, I mean, if you don’t want to.” And shit – that’s quite possibly the best sentence he’s ever heard in his entire life. 

He knows it might be a little reckless, but he doesn’t have any reason to believe you’d lie to him.

 “Okay. Open your legs wide for me, baby. Wanna see you,” he says, and you do as he tells you. He sees his hard cock in his hand and opens his mouth to spit on it. You’re wet and ready, but he knows he’s a lot to take, and he doesn’t want to hurt you. 

He admires the way you’re holding your legs open for him, giving him full access to your cunt. He positions himself at your entrance and gently pushes his hips forward so the tip of him is inside of you. Holy fuck. He pauses there, giving you a second to adjust. 

“Eyes on me, baby. Wanna see you as I take what’s mine,” he says, his voice a wreck. When you open them, he sinks even deeper. Halfway inside of you, he pauses again. How is he ever supposed to last with your pussy clenched this tight around him. 

He asks if you’re okay, and when you nod, he pushes in a little more, dragging back out of you for only a second, until he’s jutting his hips forward, fully burying himself deep inside of you. Nothing has ever felt this good to him, nothing could ever compare. 

Jesus, think of something else – make this last. He tries to distract his mind, disconnect his cock from his brain, but there’s no point. His primal urges have taken over, his body is losing the war with his mind. 

He sets a slow and steady rhythm at first, dragging in and out of you. He would love to fuck you harder, deeper. He knows he won’t last long, but he doesn’t care, as long as he gets you to come for him one more time. 

“You can fuck me harder, Joel. ‘M not gonna break, I promise,” you coo. His hand flexes tighter, and that’s all he needs. Give the girl what she wants. “Shit, c’mere,” he says, helping you off the desk, steading your legs. He flips you over and presses you against the desk. Your hips are perfectly positioned at the edge. He’s not sure anything could be prettier than you bent over, waiting to once again be stuffed with him. 

He stands behind you, angles your hips up slightly, and once again buries himself in you.

“Such a perfect cunt,” he groans, beginning to set a relentless pace. As good as this feels for him, he can tell that something about this angle does something for you, too. His cock fits just right, pushing and gliding over the spongey spot inside of you that he can tell is gonna be the thing that pushes you over the cliff of your orgasm. He holds your hips tightly as he pumps in and out of you, eliciting throaty moans from you. The air is filled with the filthy wanton sound of skin slapping against skin. 

“I –” you mew, “I think I’m gonna come again,” he hears you say, a little breathless. 

“Come for me, baby. Be the good girl I know you are and show me how pretty you are when you come on my cock,” he says, a little out of breath, voice deep. 

Yeah, that’s right. Use me.  

And you do. Your pussy pulses around him as the wave of your orgasm takes over you, and it’s borderline too much for him. He’s gotta slow down if he’s gonna last another second. 

“Where do you want me, baby?”

“Inside, please. Want you to fill me up, make me yours,” you beg for him. 

Holy fuck.

After a few more thrusts of his hips, he begins to stutter and slow. He pauses buried to the hilt inside of you and groans as his cock paints your insides with thick ropes of come. The immediate release of pressure is exhilarating, probably the best orgasm he’s ever had. He feels his cock pulse out final spurts of come, eliciting shakes from him with each one. He feels weightless like he could fly away and sleep on a cloud.

The sensation of him pulling out is a little much, his cock raw and spent. “Stay there,” he says, scurrying off to the kitchen, looking for something he can give you to help clean you up. His eye catches a roll of paper towels next to the sink and he grabs a handful of them for you. 

When he enters the office, he notices how breathtaking you look post-orgasm, post-fuck. It’s a sight he’ll commit to memory forever. He presses his lips to yours again, drinking in your sweetness once more. He thinks he could kiss you forever and never tire of it. 

He helps you get dressed, and you fasten his belt buckle for him and check the gauze on his fist. You both stand there in silence, not quite sure where to go from here, until he offers up. 

“Wanna smoke?” 

++++

“So, how long have you lived here’?” he asks, holding open the lit zippo from his back pocket to you. With the cigarette dangling between your lips, you steady it between your fingers and lean in, he admires your features amidst the dim glow of the fire. So beautiful.

“Too long,” you mumble. He lights his own. 

“And you, where are you off to next?” He hears you ask, and he's not sure how to respond.

“Not sure, the contract job my brother and I have in the county over ends in a week or so. Was thinkin’ it might be nice to head south, maybe Austin,” he responds, smoke twirling in the air around you both. 

“Although, ‘M not so sure anymore. Starting to think I might have a few things I need to take care of here first,” he says, shifting his gaze from the ground until his hooded eyes find yours. You. I need to take care of you.

You smile when he winks at you. Gosh, you’re cute when you smile. He wants to be the reason you smile every day. 

You stand there in comfortable silence, leaning up against the wall next to him. He thinks it feels nice to be wanted, to have someone to just be with. 

And when it’s time to go, he offers you his hand and a ride home. He’s pleased when you accept. 

It’s too soon. He knows it’s too soon, but the thought of you in the passenger seat of his truck, feet on the dash, wind in your hair, makes his heart skip a beat. 

He wants more. 

And something tells him you do, too. 

END

Ily. Thanks for reading! Tags: @endlessthxxghts @theoasisofthings @pedrostories @bastardmandennis @milly-louise @drunk-and-capable @survivingandenduring @ohheypedrito @joeldjarin @nerdieforpedro @amyispxnk @paleidiot @ghostwritesthings @kulekehe @darkheartgatita @goldenhxurs @morallyinept @missladym1981 @auteurdelabre @morgaussy @likeficsinthewnd @morning-star-joy @agentjackdaniels @cayleej @amyispxnk @zialltops @syd-djarin @untamedheart81 @gracevnn @pedrossl4t @littlevenicebitch69 @chulopascal

[showf4lls]

ɞ ― make a home in you; chuckle sandwich

cw + info! fluff, headcanons / no CWs

includes! ted nivison + charlie slimecicle + jschlatt

dedication! @ivyinnit

notes! i’m currently trying to get over a breakup and am kind of struggling w yearning atmo so this request (while old) was kind of perfect thank you for dropping into my askbox, ivy!! little update: it’s been so long since i’ve received this request, i know. it should’ve been easy to get it out quickly, but school absolutely melted me this semester. i know that ivy’s deactivated now, but in the case that she comes across it, i hope you enjoy beloved <3

TED

⎼ y’all schedule out laundry days together. it’s cute as fuck okok

⎼ forehead and cheek kisses while you’re on your way out the door

⎼ if he wakes up before you, he makes your morning drink of choice just the way you like it! though, he prefers to sleep in with you

⎼ if you don’t have any important plans for the day and you’ve set alarms just for the sake of waking up at a certain time, he turns them all off before you wake up. he wants to give you an opportunity to rest as much as you need to; your body will wake up when it’s ready

⎼ brunch dates! while you guys prefer to sleep in together, you alternate between sleeping in and waking up at a reasonable hour depending on your plans. ted really likes taking you out to brunch and just walking around window shopping with you after

⎼ if either of you are going somewhere important, the other will help them get ready and run through a mental checklist with them before they go in order to make sure the person leaving has absolutely everything they need

⎼ y’all are constantly doing bits. it’s kind of confusing for your friends, but neither of you care much because you’re just having a great time

⎼ ted is an absolute gentleman always, not just in the honeymoon phase. constantly opening doors for you, helping you put your sweater on when you’re leaving the house, opening the car door for you. stuff like that

⎼ he rubber ducks for you a lot. just sits down near you and listens, letting you work out your issues by talking it out without feeling awkward about it

⎼ he’s just overall a great listener and very in-tune with your needs. only gives advice and input when you ask for it, but he always makes an effort to validate your feelings. holds you when you need him to and steps back when he senses that you need space. also really good at problem solving and helping out when you get overwhelmed or have sensory overload

– when you have bad days, he has a tendency to go above and beyond. he cooks dinner for you, makes sure your comfy clothes are all washed and clean, and generally just makes sure you have to do as little as possible so that you have the proper space to calm down

CHARLIE

– you guys have rapid fire joke contests together, usually late at night when you’re sitting on kitchen counters, snacking. you go back and forth until either the two of you are laughing so hard that it would be physically impossible to keep going, or someone can’t come up with a joke fast enough

– you try to stay on the sleep cycle but you both tend to get a little out of whack every once in a while, so you have these phases of going to sleep at a decent hour and then going to sleep when the sun is about to come up

– as such, you guys have these phases of making spontaneous runs to the grocery store or gas station to get snacks, usually cereal for some reason. you get whatever you want and charlie never lets you pay for any of it. on the later nights, you guys sometimes experiment with new flavors of things or weird snack combinations

– he has a thing about always making sure you’re warm enough. you’re a little chilly? he’s pulling his sweater off and pulling it over your head. once you’re all comfy and settled, he’s on his way to turn on the heater. your feet are cold? he’s running to get you a pair of fuzzy socks and a blanket in case your legs are cold too. even when you’re about to leave the house -- it’s colder than 50 outside? he’s scrambling around the house, gathering gloves and scarves and beanies for you to take with you in case you get cold, even if they don’t match. no other options but you’re still cold? mans is wrapping himself around you, trying to use his body heat to warm you up himself. he hates when you’re chilly and uncomfortable :[

– brings you home little presents all the time. literally anything that remind him of you. you have a collection of buttons and keychains that he’s seen while walking through shops. he also steals cool props from videos and projects to give to you. you have a little collection going

– loves pda all the time, but not always cuddling (which can sound confusing, but let me explain). he likes casual pda with you around the house, whether it be you resting your feet in his lap while you both lounge across the couch, sitting on the floor and leaning back on his legs while you watch a movie, him putting a hand on the small of your back while he moves around/behind you, holding onto your hand until you’ve walked out of reach, gently pressing his knuckles into your back while you’re laying on the other side of the bed and facing away from him. likes to be touching you when he can be but in little ways that aren’t super overwhelming (mostly because i feel like you’d both be too fidgety to just cuddle)

– some of your most domestic moments are spent in the kitchen, usually cooking dinner together. it’s light and warm and it feels so much like home that you sometimes find yourself questioning if it’s all real. he’s right there to tell you it is. but back to dinner. he loves cooking for you, and you love cooking for him. it’s all laughter and winding down from work days and gentle hugs and swaying together as he hums for you

SCHLATT

– it’s a little hard to find domestic moments with schlatt off the top of your head, but they’re there when you look for them. they’re quiet, but they’re ever present

– he sleeps a lot, meaning that you usually wake up before him. if he’s sleeping light enough to hear you get up, he’ll roll over, half asleep, wrap his arms around your middle, and pull you back into his chest, mumbling a groggy “ten more minutes, babe. i’ll be up then, jus’ ten more minutes.” it’s never just ten more minutes

– he picks you up and carries you around a lot. not in the typical way. if he thinks you’re working yourself too hard, he’ll grab you from your desk and throw you over his shoulder, dropping you onto the couch and forcing you to watch a movie with him. or you’ll be sleepily making yourself a snack in the kitchen and he’ll grab you from behind, just wrapping his arms around your middle and picking you up. he carries you, complaining and squirming, the whole way to your room and tells you it’s nap time

– you guys have a lot of nap dates. it’s an easy, sweet block of time for you guys to spend together, hazy and together while napping on and off. if one of you wakes up, you get to fondly watch the other nap until you fall asleep again. watch the easy rise and fall of their chest, run a hand through their hair, trace gentle patterns on their skin, play with their fingers, listen to the beating of your heart

– you do the dishes together. you wash and schlatt dries. sometimes you get into towel fights or start flicking water at each other with your fingers

– schlatt follows you out of bed when you get up in the middle of the night. he’d never admit it, but he has a hard time sleeping without you. he hates waking up to a cold bed. so when the clock blinks 3:17 and he feels around to find nothing beside him, even if your side of the bed is still warm, he huffs and gets up. pads through the house with puffy, tired eyes until he finds you. wraps his arms around you from behind and rests his chin on your head. “what are you doin’ outta bed?” he never waits for your response, just starts ushering you back to your room

– really likes seeing you in his clothes, again, not that he would ever admit it. he’ll purposely “forget” to do your laundry so that you have to start wearing his hoodies, tee shirts, sweats, etc. it just gives him the warm fuzzies, seeing you be so comfortable and cozy in his clothes

– hangs on you a lot on days when there’s nothing to do. he’s pretty idle about it, too, kind of like a character accessory. sometimes you just have to go around the house doing your stuff with this big man hanging off of you because you don’t have the heart to tell him to leave you alone for an hour or two to get your work done

[merotwst]

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER HERE YOU ARE ! -—fluff

‹ . savanaclaw ›

. ficlets

⇝awkward first meetings with beautiful strangers.

[ n: thank you for reading! this is sort of a modern au setting, please enjoy. not proofread. tw. mentions of thunder and lightning in ruggie's part ]

leona kingscholar ‹ savanaclaw ›

the cold of january seeped into the thickness of your jacket and you shivered as you found yourself sitting by one of the park benches. keeping an eye on your dog as it ran around the park, you watched as he went on about greeting strangers and playing with other dogs despite the chilliness that hung in the air. the puff of warm breath escaped your lips. it became visible as quickly as it dissipated into the air and it made you long for the warmth of home. the cozy couch you loved so much, sipping on hot cocoa with little marshmallows dancing at the top. when you stir they temporarily sink into the warm chocolate drink, but eventually come up to surface letting you know they're ready to be eaten.

you sigh dreamily at the thought. the remnants of your breath vanishing, you looked around to observe your surroundings. nothing was out of the ordinary, as per usual. your dog didn't seem to be showing any signs of stopping as he played with a child catching frisbees and rolling over in the frozen grass. you let out a soft chuckle, mentally thanking the random kid for doing your work for you. reaching out for the coffee cup beside you, you gingerly take a sip.

your eyes were closed, savoring the... bitterness? what was this? this was not your usual order.

you looked at the cup, trying to see what was amiss. and sure enough, you did. last you checked, your name was not ‘leona’. and as you lowered the cup from your lips you felt a shiver run down your spine. slowly you turned your head and directly beside you, a stranger you didn't even realize was there was staring directly at you. you flinched before setting the cup down slowly. you felt like a small animal with the way it felt like he was observing you.

“sorry.” you apologized, embarrassed. but just as you held your own coffee in your hands, the stranger had stood up. you ceased all movements. the man took a couple of steps until he was standing directly in front of you. he reached our his hand and gingerly pulled your coffee away from your hands. you look up to meet piercing emerald green orbs and you didn't even fight him. so mesmerised you were with his sharp gaze that your fingers went limp. was it out of fear or was it awe of how pretty this man actually was, you had no clue. but you had an inking it was a little bit of both. he had a sense of wildness to him that you couldn't quite put your finger on. although he did look menacing towering over you like that, he didn't seem like he had any ill intentions.

the man held the coffee in his hands before wordlessly bringing it to his lips and taking a long sip. your jaw dropped.

you could see his face contort into a look of awkward disgust. the way his eyes wrinkled and his lips turned up showed how he was most likely judging your taste for your own coffee.

“what?” you ask in an almost offended tone. the man shrugged, “it tastes like shit.” he answered nonchalantly and your eyes rolled at him with mild annoyance.

“i'm sorry for actually wanting flavors in my coffee other than pure, raw bitterness.”

“it does it's job of keeping me awake.”

“it tastes like shit.” you sassed, hurling his own words back at him without realizing it.

his lips twitched into a smirk as he shoved one of his hands into his coat pocket, “do you always say that to strangers after you just randomly take a sip of their coffee? that's not normal.” he remarked and you scoffed.

“well, not all strangers are petty enough to take my own coffee, take a sip from it as well then make checklist remarks on it. that's not normal.”

his laughter rang across the area of the park. he had such a pretty laugh you forgot for a moment that you were actually having a little argument with him. the man gave you a toothy, lazy grin before lifting your coffee up in the air in a gesture that says, 'well i'm taking your tastes-like-shit coffee with me and you can't do anything about it' before turning on his heel and walking away.

you didn't make an attempt to stop him. just watched him waltz away with your coffee in his hands. how do you even respond to an encounter like this? maybe when you figure it out, you'll call the card he left on the park bench with a number and a name that matched the one written on the bitter coffee cup beside you.

ruggie bucchi ‹ savanaclaw ›

you didn't think it was of much consequence when you left home without an umbrella. after all, there wasn't a cloud in the sky that morning. maybe next time you'd make it a point to watch the weather forcast while eating breakfast instead of some other weird thing that pops out your feed.

holding your hand out and feeling the heavy drops of rain hit your palm, you groan inwardly. there go your plans of bolting it over to the next store 50 feet away but significantly closer to a bus stop.

'stupid weather,' you thought, 'how could you just change your mind like that?'

kind of like how your date changed their mind on you last minute. texting you a hasty 'sorry, can't make it' on the dating app. you would have been more positively receptive to it if they hadn't canceled on you after you waited for them at the cafe for almost two hours. the rain didn't help, either.

just as you were about to give up and accept your fate of having to wait for the rain to finish pouring all cold and damped and cramped with strangers beside you in the same predicament, you felt a buzz in your pocket. twenty minutes ago, you texted some friends about your situation and you couldn't help a wide grin break from your expression.

'i'm on my way home' the text from one of your friends glowed from the phone screen speckled with a bit of rain but it was like a beacon in the dark to you, 'i'll drive by to pick you up. expect me around 7 mins'.

the minutes ticked by but it felt like hours and the rain only poured harder. your friend hasn't responded yet, so you assume they must be driving. you couldn't wait to tell them all about your shitty date and your predicament.

and as if on cue, a car pulled up by the cafe. the haze that the pouring rain brought made it harder to tell, but it had the same color and size and you reckon the model as well, of the car your friend drove. the rush of adrenaline mixed with the frustrations the day brought, you bolted from the safety of the cafe's cover towards the car. in one quick motion, you opened the door and threw yourself in the driver's seat. and without missing a beat, you started to talk.

“fucking hell! you know that person from three days ago i was talking to? they didn't even have the decency to tell me they wouldn't make it before we left our houses. they made me wait for two whole hours. two! i've practically gone through the entire drink menu they had in that damn cafe! i'm so pissed!” you exclaim while wiping your wet clothes and skin with a handkerchief, showing no signs of stopping until the person in the driver's seat responded.

“yeah? then what happened?” a voice unfamiliar to you asked. you whipped your head to the direction of the question. your jaw dropped. you had no idea who the guy on the wheel was. his big hyena ears flicked as he gave you a toothy grin.

“aw, you done talkinʼ? but we were only gettin' to the good part!” he said, teasing with a snicker and you felt the heat rising to your cheeks. thakfully, the cold the rainy weather brought could make a good cover for the sudden flush of your face.

you whipped your head around, the reality of barging into a stranger's car and suddenly bursting out all your frustration in the ugliest form of word vomit started to sink in. you sputtered out, “s-sorry. i got in the wrong car. i was expecting someone else. i'll go—”

but just as you reached for the door handle, a streak of bright light, followed by the booming sound of thunder flashed up on the sky and you quickly drew back.

this was not your day.

“a bit dangerous to get out of the car,” the brunette in the driver seat said, his hand reaching to shift gears, “usually i'd ask ya to pay, but...” he turned around to the backseat and you followed his gaze which led to the form of a child in the backseat. his deep emerald eyes fixed directly at you. the sound of his tail hitting the leather seats mixed with the heavy patter of rain on the car roof. and then he broke out to a grin.

“who are you?!” the child exclaimed excitedly, shooting up from his seat and throwing himself between the driver's and passenger's seat.

“easy, cheka,” the driver said to the child, “don't go on screaming at them now.”

the hyena boy looked over to you this time, “if you can keep him entertained throughout the whole ride, i'll drive you home, free of charge.”

you weren't able to decline after your friend messaged you that they were too scared to keep driving while there was thunder and lightning so you agreed and kept the little boy named cheka entertained. he showed you his I.D. which you took a picture of and sent to your friends and family for safety reasons and you learned the driver's name is ruggie bucchi. it turns out they stopped by this cafe everytime he came to pick cheka up from school. ruggie does it for cheka's uncle, which the little lion talked about in abundance. but because of the heavy rain, they weren't able to leave the car.

“i knew i wouldn't be able to get out of the car in all this rain,” said ruggie, “but sure wasn't expectin' anyone to get in. shishi.” he said with a cheeky laugh and you could all but blush in embarrassment.

throughout the car ride, you learned more about him. he would always answer cheka with patience, ask you if you were cold and want the heating on higher and sometimes tease you whenever you flinched at the thunderclaps. despite his sly demeanor, ruggie was pretty nice and his company was pleasant. he was funny, too which added to his charm.

cheka talked the whole ride through which madethe atmosphere in the car much more delightful in contrast to the gloomy weather outside and before you realized it, ruggie had pulled the car over to where you lived.

“here,” the hyena boy said pulling a folded umbrella from under his seat, “use this.” he handed you the umbrella and you gave him a smile.

“i'm not giving that to you, though.” he added hastily. “i'll be collecting that tomorrow at the cafe. i expect to see you there.” he gave a toothy grin before unlocking the door on your side of the car.

“and i promise i won't stand you up like the person from your dating app.”

jack howl ‹ savanaclaw ›

the time on your watch read 1:15 am but you find yourself, eyes wide open and staring blankly at the shelves lined with rows of toilet paper inside your local supermarket like some lost puppy who wandered into a random building.

the isles were almost completely empty save for one or two nigh shift workers here and there and the occasional customer who had the same balls of steel as you to be out at 1 am.

for a while it was just you, the music from your headphones and the wall of toilet paper as you went through your list of other items to buy. then felt the metallic clanking of shopping cart wheels on the floor and felt the presence of someone behind you. they seemed to be picking out something from the shelves you had your back to. you didn't really give it any further thought. just another customer who preferred the dead quiet 1 am brought into the supermarket, you supposed.

you gave a small glance at the piece of paper on your hand and with one swift motion, crossed out the words 'ass wipers' from your list before you took a pack of three toilet paper rolls and tossed it over to your cart. grocery shopping in the unholy hours of the night—or morning, really—had plenty of perks. less people, less copetition on the soap detergents, less chances of having run-ins with karens, you get in and get out quickly. there's the risk of getting murdered on your way to your car in the parking lot, but really, when is there not? that can happen even during the day. and unfortunately for them, you haven't been murdered just yet and so you keep coming back at the midnight hours to buy your everyday needs.

besides, what were you going to do at home, anyway? stare endlessly at the ceiling for hours because sleep just wouldn't take you? yeah, might as well do something productive.

placing your hand on your cart, you started pushing it forward with you.

for a while you pushed your cart around, not really in a hurry to get the things you needed. you liked strolling along the isle with your music blasting in your ears. you softly hummed as you reached the chips section. you broke into a grin as you reached for the bag of corn chips. but before you could grab it, you felt a large hand on your shoulder and you let out a loud yelp.

you quickly whipped your body around and bumped into the shelves behind you, causing a couple of bags of chips to rain down on you.

before you was a towering man with wolf ears, occasionally flicking and his tail wagging behind him. you didn't move from your spot—like a cornered animal. dying in the parking lot is one thing, but dying in the junk food isle is a whole different story! maybe you could negotiate to at least move to the vegetable area before this massive hunk of a man pummeled you to death.

he mouthed something but you couldn't hear. for a second you were confused before he pointed at his ear and you realized you still had your headphones on.

you scrambled to remove them from your ears and the sound of his deep voice echoed through the area.

“sorry for startling you,” he said, sounding genuinely apologetic, “i called out to you earlier but you had headphones on.”

“oh, sorry. did you need anything?” you asked and he nodded in response.

he pointed to the shopping cart beside you, “you have my cart.”

surprised, you looked at the card beside you and sure enough, a lot of the contents were not things you put in your cart earlier. the man pulled a cart beside him and looked over at you.

“i have yours here. we must have swapped earlier when we were in the same isle.”

your face flushes in embarrassment, realizing how much you didn't pay attention to your surroundings. apologies rolled out your tongue but he didn't seem to mind as much. in fact, he was nice enough to even help you pick up the fallen bags of chips from your little mini heart attack earlier.

you and the stranger parted ways and you didn't run into him for the rest of your shopping. not until you'd paid for your groceries and making your way out the door did you hear someone call out to you.

you turned around to see the same man walking toward you right from another counter. you waited for him by the door as he carried his groceries and jogged toward you.

“sorry for calling out to you again.” he said before scrambling through one of his grocery bags. you couldn't help another wave of embarassment wash over you when he pulled out a set of toilet paper rolls. you internally murdered yourself.

“sorry,” you stammered out, reaching for the pack, “i'll pay you back for this.”

he shook his head, “it's alright. it's not a big deal.” he let out a small smile as he adjusted his bags in his arms.

“thank you, sir.”

“jack.”

“jack.” you repeated with a smile, “thank you, jack.”

you introduced yourself as well out of courtesy and he gave a small 'nice to meet you' before offering, “i can walk you back to your car if you want. it's not really safe out there around these hours.” he said, ears perked up and alert as he looked out at the parking lot and you couldn't help a small chuckle.

“sure. i don't mind some company.”

the walk to your across the parking lit consisted of delightful conversation with jack. you found out he recently started grocery shopping at night because of the same reasons as you.

“so does this mean we'll see each other often?” you teased as he helped you place your grocery bags in the trunk.

“if we choose to shop at the same hour, maybe we'll run into each other.” he said, taking the question seriously causing you to smile.

“well, i always go around these hours,” you tell him, “and i don't mind having someone to chat with while i pick out my toilet papers.” you joke, waving the pack around and eliciting a laugh from him.

jack let out a sharp, toothy grin and closed your trunk for you, “that's a plan, then.”

note: please do not drink strangers' coffees, get in random strangers' cars or talk to strangers in the grocery at night. this is purely a work of fiction and it's much more dangerous irl. always be mindful of your surroundings and protect yourself. be careful and stay safe, everyone!

© merotwst 2023 | do not translate, plagiarize or reproduce without permission.

[kaciidubs]

Twinkling Lights | 8 Days of SKZcember

Prompt: their first date being at a tree lighting celebration

❣ Summary: His eyes shone brighter than the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree. ❣  ❣ Word Count: 794 ❣ Warnings: Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Changbin is a doting boyfriend ❣  ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣  ❣ Additional Tags: Changbin is referred to as Binnie, and Sweetheart, Reader is referred to as Bunny ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist ❣ SKZcember 2023

“Is your scarf tight enough?”

“Yes, Binnie.”

“What about your hat? Do you want to switch with mine?”

“My hat’s perfectly fine, thank you.”

“And you have your gloves from the car, right?”

“Changbin!” You laughed lightly at your doting boyfriend, pinching his cheek with your fingerless mitten covered hand, “I’m all set, I swear - now, come on! The more time you waste with your checklist, the higher our chances of missing the tree lighting gets.”

It was a simple date idea - visiting the local tree lighting ceremony - but the closer you two grew to the location of the main event, the more excitement seemed to course through your veins.

The small outdoor area was decorated in strings upon strings of lights, casting a warm glow over the previously snowed-on ground, while an array of booths lined the sidewalk - each offering a selection of food, drinks, or small activities for children in celebration of the holiday season.

“Oh… This is beautiful, Binnie!” You fawned over the simplistic decorations, your heart fluttering at the sound of soft Christmas music floating through the chilly air. 

If anything, it felt like a movie.

Changbin laughed at your awe, slipping his gloved hand into yours, “If you think this looks beautiful, you’re going to lose your mind when it comes time to light the tree.”

A laugh bubbled past your lips as you squeezed his hand, “I think I might collapse from beauty overload, you’ll have to carry me back to the car!”

“I mean, I could just carry you now.” He lunged toward you, caging you within his strong arms and laughing mischievously when you tried wiggling your way out of his hold.

“Changbin, don't you dare pick me up! I was just kidding - I was kidding!”

“I don’t know, Bunny, I can’t risk my girl fainting on my watch, can I?”

Pushing against his chest with uncontrollable giggles escaping you, he finally let you go to hold your hand once more; a prideful smirk stretching his lips in the process.

“Just for that,” you huffed, your breath floating out in a small puff, “you’re buying me a hot chocolate, mister.”

“Already planned to, Bunny.”

And, true to his word, you had a warm hot chocolate in your hands within the next fifteen minutes; the two of you leisurely walking around the park to check out the other booths, grab a snack, and even take cute ‘winter couple’ photos to commit the event to memory.

In the midst of a silly-filtered selfie, the announcement of the tree lighting interrupted the current song playing over the speakers, directing everyone to make their way to the main field to witness the main event.

“Oh my god, I’m so excited!” You hugged yourself to his right arm, both in hopes of sharing some of his body heat and containing the excited jitters that vibrated through you. “It’s going to be so pretty, I just know it.”

Changbin simply hummed in agreement, using his free hand to tug your hat further down your head and adjusting your scarf to sit snugly around your neck.

A person, who you could only assume to be the coordinator of the event, stood in front of the crowd to give a brief history of the lighting ceremony, as well as a few words of thanks and well wishes for the holidays, before encouraging the crowd to join them in a countdown for the lighting of the tree.

“Five! Four! Three! Two! One!”

On cue, the massive tree was suddenly bathed in twinkling lights as shimmering ornaments made themselves known hanging along the branches; the crowd erupting into loud cheers and whistles as music filled the air once more.

You were right - the tree was prettier than you could have ever imagined, but it barely compared to the sight beside you as you turned to look at your boyfriend.

His eyes were shining as bright as the lights on the tree, an expression of pure serenity draped across his soft features that made your heart swell five times its usual size while you actively blinked away tears of happiness.

“Binnie?”

Gaze instantly falling from the tree and dropping to you, he tilted his head in silent acknowledgement for you to continue.

“I love you, sweetheart.”

Whether the blush on his cheeks was from your words or the cold air, it only grew darker when he finally registered your words, turning his head with a playful pout on his lips.

“Ah- You can’t just say that to me out of nowhere!” Despite his defiance, he slipped his arm out of your grasp to tug you into his side, wrapping you in a partial bear hug and resting his cheek against your head, “I love you too, Bunny.”

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: @goblinracha, @having-an-internal-crisis-rn, @midnightfrog625, @anyhow-everything, @bangchanbabygirlx, @sweetracha, @j-onedrabbles, @happilydeepestwonderland, @nightimescapes, @caitlyn98s, @ch4nn13luv, @ihrtlix, @sometimesleeknows, @jeonjungkookenthusiast1997, @maximumkillshot, @y-ur--i, @acker-night, @dreamescapeswriting, @specialstay, @broken-glowsticks, @s00buwu, @dancerachaslut, @junglyric, @tinyelfperson, @jj-stay, @katsukis1wife, @inlovewithmusician, @keen-li, @armystay89, @main-character0, @vampcharxter, @ddyskz, @prettymiye0n, @bbgnyx

✧. ┊If your username is in bold italics that means tumblr won't let me tag you. If you’d like to be added to the taglist, fill out this form!

[dadsbongos]

the iron giant - f.toji

part of the jjk movie marathon event / movie selection … warnings - you are actually not in this very much (you are megumi's mom tho), i've never written toji before but i love him so just... please lmao, one use of the s-word (smirk), non-curse au where toji was still a contract killer word count - 2.7 K / rating - PG

Toji breathes in deeply, eyes closed despite the blanketing darkness of the laundry room. The plastic floral scent of detergent invades his senses. Much different than the tangy iron he’d been used to before. Iron and earthy dirt. Now the only “earthy tones” he smells are from his cologne - one you’d gifted him years ago; now it’s the only brand he’ll buy. Even so, you’re the one to say it has earthy tones, Toji can’t pick them up. To him, his cologne has the same polite chemical scent that wafts off every other man in the street.

He likes it, though, he swears. He is not fond of dirt and grime or the clinging stench of blood, and he isn’t sure how he could stomach it before.

Megumi continues to cry in the kitchen. Diaper clean. No fever. Fed. Burped. Held. Rocked. Napped. Megumi can only cry, and Toji can only guess as to why.

But Toji has run out of guesses.

He sucks in another breath, letting the oxygen fill his chest until his lungs feel like popping. He is not very patient when it comes to personal annoyances. Slow walkers and stubborn stains, for example. Yet this is even worse.

This is him burdened with ear-shredding shrieks. This is his son in some agony he cannot communicate. This is letting you down.

Much slower than Toji would like to admit, he finally unlatches the laundry door hatch and returns to the kitchen.

Megumi has a trail of tears down each cheek, hands balled into chunky fists, as he keeps crying.

His large hands that’ve popped skulls now very slowly, very carefully lift Megumi from his chair. Mentally rerunning his checklist. Clean diaper. No fever. Fed. Burped.

Held?

And this time, there’s change. Megumi quiets, only a little, when he’s cradled to his father’s chest. So Toji keeps him there. He swathes his son in both arms and tenderly rocks the infant. Megumi tattles off into whimpers before eventually: the house is quiet.

Oh, how Toji wants to groan. Grumble, even, about how he had already done that and how Megumi was being picky and stubborn and a handful, but he refrains. Not because those things are untrue, but because some paranoid part of him worries that maybe by the universe’s terrible whim, Megumi will somehow remember those words.

So, instead, he settles on, “You’re such a fussy one, huh?” he clicks his tongue when Megumi’s big eyes flutter and he yawns, “Another nap?” Toji laughs, already turning to his son’s nursery, “Just woke up crying to go back to bed, huh?”

Megumi got that from his father.

On chilly, buzzing midnights, Toji will shoot up from your shared sheets with sweat slicking down his hair and a burning sensation in his chest. He’ll jump up from bed to check every lock and watch Megumi’s chest rise and fall as the baby sleeps soundly in his crib. Toji then wanders back to the master bedroom and does the same with you. Sometimes he takes so long staring that the sun will already be painting the sky when he settles under the duvet once again.

However, there will be no relief because he knows, God does he know, that he will do the routine all over again.

Toji lays Megumi into his crib and the boy sleepily reaches up for his father, yawning again before finally giving into his exhaustion.

Toji struggles with the repetition and the cooing and the hours of thankless preening, but he likes to imagine that his son is better off with a father.

Megumi sighs and drools in his sleep, rounded tummy moving in time with each fluid breath. His little hands are curled up by his head; messy tendrils of dark hair flying about in every direction. Megumi is more precious to Toji than he knows how to say - the mere thought of it chokes him, a lump forming in his throat and his chest tightening.

So, naturally, Toji wonders if he’d still be able to walk away for good, as he’d done with the Zen’ins.

“Do you like your mom or your dad more?”

“Hm…” Megumi holds the red block between both hands, no longer interested in building his tower with Yuuji, “I dunno…”

“I like my oldest brother more,” Yuuji continues, “He’s nicer than ‘kuna.”

“I like my dad,” Megumi copies defiantly, “but I like my mom, too. They’re both nice.”

“Your dad’s scary,” Nobara pipes up, plucking off a dented, yellow cardboard block from the tower, quickly replacing it with a smoother blue one, “I bet he’s scarier when he’s mad.”

“No,” Megumi shakes his head, shoving his red block into Yuuji’s hands, “He calls me nicely all the time. Like this!” he scrunches his brows to mimic his father’s resting scowl, voice digging deeper, but still singing out gently, “‘Megumi’ - or! Or ‘Megs’.”

“I thought he’d be loud,” Nobara wriggles her nose at the thought.

“And mean,” Yuuji nods wisely, eyes closed.

“Well, he’s not,” Megumi’s cheeks flush, his fingernails biting into his palms tightly, “My dad isn’t mean!”

“Megs!”

The boy turns swiftly, scrambling up from his spot between Yuuji and their blocks, abandoning his tower to charge into his father’s legs. His small forehead bangs off Toji’s shin, and he rubs over the sore area as the man signs the timesheet in Ms. Utahime’s hands.

“‘gumi’s dad!” Yuuji runs over (defying rule one of the classroom) with Nobara charging after. The two toddlers crash around Megumi, latching onto the soft material of Toji’s sweatpants as well.

“Hey, ‘rats,” Toji settles a hand in his son’s hair, ruffling the untamed tresses further, “Where’re your wards, huh? Thought we were going out!”

He grins watching Yuuji and Nobara get riled up, the pair jumping and clawing at his pants with rapid nods. Repeatedly, they echo ‘yeah!’s and ‘where are they?’s amongst each other that have Utahime shaking her head and sighing.

Megumi stretches his arms up and Toji complies, lifting Megumi into his arms as if the preschooler weighed no more than a loaf of bread. Immediately, Yuuji and Nobara are jealous.

“I wanna be tall, too!” Yuuji shouts.

“Me first!” Nobara grunts, arms wide and expecting to be lifted.

More preschoolers waiting for their guardians holler a small collection of “no fair!” and “me too!” signaling the gaggle’s arrival. Children clamber over each other, hoping to climb atop Toji’s broad frame.

“Oh, my friends! We should ask before touching!” Utahime tries settling the kids, and to her credit, all excited Yuuji and Nobara fall back from the man’s personal space, “Megumi’s father doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to.”

But the man himself shrugs, calmly approaching the rainbow circle time carpet and shadowing over the forgotten tower of blocks. Before he can fully settle into the new seat, children are clinging to his shoulders and jamming footholds over his legs.

“Eh, I don’t mind,” Toji snags Yuuji and Nobara, each in one hand, and lifts them above the other children’s heads, “‘m already waiting for Higuruma to take Yuuji and Megs with Nobara. Might as well let the germ-bots play.”

Fun and delight were not Toji’s original intention for toiling away for his muscles, but he allows it now. Though, even he cannot deny: it feels like a bastardization of innocence, to use bloodied skin for the gleeful entertainment of kids.

But radiant stars light up Megumi’s seafoam eyes, a cherub’s rosy glow stretching over his cheeks, awkwardly gapped teeth on display from his grin, and the jingle of his giggles overtaking the room. So Toji ignores the bubbling feeling.

“Heard you’re a father now,” Shiu and Toji don’t meet often anymore. When they do, it’s unpleasant.

“Mhm.”

“A real father,” Shiu muses, remembering the times he would have to care for Megumi in Toji’s bumbling, clueless stead, “Still not accepting any jobs, then?”

“Nah,” Toji looks around for the nearest clock and finds none. The humor is not lost on him; that a heart familiar with gunfire and gore, now frets over whether or not he’s late to go with you to pick up Megumi from school.

“Your offers just keep plummeting, you know?”

Toji’s blank stare tells Shiu all he needs to know. All that he’s already known.

“Alright,” Shiu waves Toji away before teasing lightheartedly, “See you in a year when someone remembers you exist.”

Toji merely rolls his eyes.

“Where’re you goin’?” Toji watches his son pace from the living room to the kitchen like a madman for five full cycles before speaking up.

“Out,” Megumi’s voice echoes through the short hall as he storms in from the kitchen. His eyes scramble from the base of the front door to the short shelf stuffed full of the little family’s various shoes, “Do you know where my dress shoes are?”

Toji snickers, hands folded back behind his head, pale skin illuminated by the television, “Where is your ass going that you need dress shoes?”

Megumi groans, cutting a quick glare to his father, “A date.” he watches the older man raise a brow at him, “Yuuji’s older brother - the goth one - his girlfriend is in town so the apartment is free…” he shrugs, “It’s a date. Do you know where my shoes are?”

“Dress shoes for a date? A night-in date?”

“I want to look nice,” Megumi pauses, “You wouldn’t care if I was going on a louzy date?”

“You know the rules,” Toji shrugs, “Don’t add or subtract from the population. Don’t go to jail,” he snickers suddenly, his son fidgets at the sound, “Not that you or your boy can add to the population.”

Megumi sighs, the urge to call out for his mother’s help is bubbling up from his chest, but he feels a more pressing concern rise faster, “Will Mom care? I know it’s… late.”

Almost-ten-at-night late.

Toji stares at his boy, unsure how he’ll be able to adjust once his son moves out. It was hard enough to mourn that gaping, useless feeling in his chest when he realized Megumi was now older, and therefore more independent.

But he’s been staring too long and doesn’t know how to say that in simple terms, “Nah, she knows you’re too lame to do anything fun.”

Megumi’s expression falls flat, then shifting into a full grimace, “You’re awful,” he turns back towards the kitchen, where the upstairs staircase awaits. His voice echoes through the short hallway as he calls, “Mom! Have you seen my nice shoes?!”

Toji was a shithead kid. He smoked and drank and snuck out and sucked up attention from girls.

Could it be called sneaking out when nobody cared enough to make sure he was in his room past lights out?

He is glad Megumi isn’t like him in either regard.

“Okay,” Megumi waltzes into the living room, one hand splayed at his side and the other clutching the heels of his shiniest leather shoes. He stops at the front door, back slumping into the connected wall as he squeezes on the pair, “I’ll be back before two.”

“‘kay,” Toji watches his son flick the front door open, “Tell your lil’ boyfriend I say hi.”

“Don’t,” Megumi glares again, “Don’t say it like that.”

“What? You two break up or something?” he returns his son’s narrowed gaze, “This some closure bullshit?”

Toji laughs at how Megumi visibly stiffens, hands flexing as if he wants to threaten something nasty. A white-knuckled fist. A middle finger. But he holds himself back, he’s more respectful than Toji is even now, as a grown adult man.

“No, I just hate when you say he’s my ‘little boyfriend’,” the boy sighs, shoulders tense, “And we got in a disagreement. We’re fine. It’s fine,” Toji must make a face because his son sighs louder, “Stop being a dick.”

Toji barks a laugh at his son’s crude language, “You’re so fussy,” he waves away the insult, “I’ll be up, so call me if you need a ride home.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“You know, ‘cuz I don’t want you getting driven around by a stranger. Or a Yuuji that missed his bedtime.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“That’s how people die.”

“Yeah, got it,” Megumi grunts, then sighs once more, “Thanks, Dad,” he suddenly sucks in a sharp breath, shoulders going lax before he waves the white flag, “Well, before I go…”

“Is it about your tiff with the boyfriend?”

“Stop, or I won’t ask you,” Megumi threatens, arms folding across his chest, “So, I don’t- we’re not breaking up. But I’ve been thinking.”

“Mhm.”

“About our,” he cringes before spitting out the most applicable word, “sustainability?”

“Mhm.”

“We’re different, and sometimes we’re both talking about stupid shit and we just…” Megumi swallows thickly, “We fight about it sometimes. Like with Nobara’s new boyfriend. I think he’s terrible and Yuuji just wants to see the good parts, and we couldn’t agree. I know that’s nothing crazy, but what if it becomes a pattern?”

Toji mulls over the question, weeding through the inane example to pinpoint his son’s real struggle, “So, you think you two won’t be able to work out a ‘disagreement’ one day?”

Megumi switches the weight on his feet, eyes darting down to his fanciest shoes. Yuuji will be in old, coffee-stained, hand-me-down blue slippers. Megumi knows he’ll find it charming, “He’s just really positive. And nice. I feel like I just bring him down.”

“What? With your shitty attitude?” Toji laughs despite his son’s blank stare, “Quit pouting. It was the same thing with me and your mom. You’ll be fine.”

“Good advice.”

“Not done: Don’t get paranoid about it. Just be the you that Yuuji asked out in high school. The kid liked you, and still likes you, knowing you’re a bit of a priss. Your mom loves me even though I can be the same way, and even if her positivity can sometimes feel… overbearing,” he pauses, grasping for what he’s sure started his son’s concern, “Naive, even, to things I think are trouble; I love her,” he can see Megumi smother down a smile at his father’s admission, “I love your mother so much it feels like my entire body wants to convulse until I can’t breathe or talk. And if you feel like that with Yuuji, and him with you, you’ll be fine. Just remember not to be a prick, and you’ll be okay.”

The boy nods slowly, “Okay,” then he smirks, “You’re sappy, by the way.”

“What? Gonna put me in jail for loving my wife? Weird ass kid,” Toji huffs, brushing off the jab before calling out, “Seriously, call me if you need a ride! And don’t die!”

“I got it already!”

Shiu watches the horses silently.

When Megumi was born, Toji’s acceptance of contracts took a devastating plummet. Once Megumi turned two, they ceased completely, and by the time Megumi was ten - offers for Toji had dwindled so significantly that most speculated the man had died.

Despite their rocky acquaintanceship, Shiu is happy for Toji. Content that somewhere, anywhere in Tokyo, Toji is with his wife and son rather than stinking of sweat and iron and bleeding out in an alleyway.

Out of respect, Shiu watches Toji’s lucky number seven finish in a tragic last before leaving just as alone as he’d arrived.

Toji yawns, eyes heavy and stinging, as he stands in his son’s doorway. The room has changed massively over the course of twenty years, with a twenty-first fast on the way. And Toji continues to stumble over to his son’s room after nightmares like no time has passed since his son was a baby.

Toji wasn’t sure he’d been meant for fatherhood, especially when Megumi was only able to wail and shriek over his displeasure, but he did it. He did it, and he doesn’t regret it.

Toji wonders again if he’d be able to walk away from you and Megumi as he did with his birth family, but the internal response is an instant, resounding: No.

He could not walk away then, and he cannot do it now. Nor does he want to.

Toji much prefers to have struggled those years as a father than having excelled at being some other schmuck’s gun.

[blurredcolour]

so much John Brady brainrot 🤭 so that being said…..soft dom! Brady headcanons?

Oh my nonny, this ask jumped out at me like a jackrabbit and I feel like it is the perfect time to expound on the forbidden dress scenario I first touched upon around Easter.

Behold some headcannons AND a drabble

Mature/explicit themes below the cut - 18+ only

Given the fact that dear Brady rules his fort with an iron fist (see his lecture to Croz after his struggles finding, I don’t know, England?!) I definitely feel like this man prefers to be in control, but I agree that it errs on the side of a soft!Dom rather than an outright dominant

While he hasn’t engaged in penetrative sex prior to your wedding night, he’s still the one on top, in charge, executing his seduction of you like some kind of pre-flight checklist

And let me tell you it works

As your relationship grows, you definitely feel more confident initiating intimacy, usually at times and in places that leave him slightly bewildered, your desire for him something so utterly mysterious whereas it’s completely logical to him that he cannot get enough of you

But he soon takes over to ensure you get the most amount of pleasure possible, putting himself last

You never realized, however, the potential for him to be suddenly overcome by a need until you wore that seemingly innocuous dress

Securing the zipper at your side, you took a moment to check your appearance in the floor length mirror of your shared bedroom, smoothing the hem of the spring dress in your favourite colour against your knees. It had been an irresistible extravagance when you were at the department store with only socks and underwear on your list, but the neckline and style had called out to you like a siren song.

Smoothing an errant strand of hair, you grabbed your handbag and hurried down the stairs to the living room where John was waiting, scanning the paper for something of interest.

“Ready, honey. Thanks for waiting.” You smiled and he snapped the paper closed along its pre-folded lines but froze as you came into view.

“That’s…that’s new…” he intoned, expression unreadable and making you feel the need to apologize for your over-spending.

“I…yes, I indulged a little at the store, did you want me to-” the sharp shake of his head cut off your offer to take it off, to return it tomorrow.

“It’s perfect.” He exhaled, eyeing you intensely before surging to his feet. “Come on, don’t let me make us late.” He grunted and grabbed his suit jacket from the back of the couch, sliding it on before leading you out to the car.

There was a different tension in the vehicle, John’s eyes flashing in your direction frequently through the short drive to the cathedral, his hand resting heavily against your lower back as he guided you to your favourite pew. The heat of his palm was soaking through the thin fabric of your dress making you shiver at the temperature contrast with the cool stone of the building.

“You chilly?” He leaned in the murmur, the roughness in his voice taking you back to your lazy lovemaking yesterday morning and your jaw dropped open as you suddenly realized just what was going on.

A glance at him to offer a reassuring smile and shake of your head revealed his dilated pupils and slightly flushed cheeks, making you sink to teeth into your lower lip. What on earth had gotten into your husband?!

You could feel the weight of his heated gaze on you like numerous caresses throughout the service, more than confident he didn’t catch a word of the sermon, pressing your lips together sheepishly as somehow you felt at fault for this predicament and yet you couldn’t really bring yourself to mind?

How many times had you found yourself staring at this man, star-struck and breathless with desire in the most inopportune of places…what a heady turn of events this role-reversal was.

As you rose to join your fellow congregants for the weekly post-service chat over coffee and cake, John’s hand slid to your lower back, his skin scorching through your dress by now.

“Would you mind if we ducked out early, sweetheart? I’ve got a bit of a headache…”

Feigning wifely concern, you nodded quickly. “Of course, Johnny, let’s get you home.”

The drive home felt faster than usual, perhaps because he barely stopped at the stop signs, his hand resting on your thigh, fingertips plucking at the hem of your dress idly in the silence of the vehicle. Stepping into the house, you’d barely removed your shoes before his mouth was on yours, hungrily devouring, as his hands seized your hips and pulled you flush against his body.

The prominent bulge of his cock pressed against your hip and you dropped your handbag to slide your fingers into his hair.

“This dress is my devil in the desert.” He growled against your lips, making you laugh breathlessly.

“I wasn’t sure you were paying attention, honey.”

Turning to press you up against the front door, he ground his aching hardness into you. “I was enduring my own test…” he nipped your lips before trailing his mouth down your neck, hands rucking up the hem to slip between your thighs.

Mewling as you pulled at his suit jacket, you clung to him as he pinned you tightly to the door and quickly wrung an orgasm from you with practiced efficiency, leaving you a knock-kneed, panting, shaking mess.

Stepping back to shuck off his jacket and yank his tie free, you reached up to pull down your side zipper, eyes shooting wide at his verbal interjection.

“Ah! This?” His fingers strayed back to toy with the hem of your dress. “No, this stays on.” He said firmly, voice taking on a deep timber that flooded you with fresh desire.

Lurching forward, you instead focused your efforts on stripping him completely, following him down to the small carpet on the foyer floor, lifting your hips as he pulled your underwear off over your garter straps and stockings. Nestling between your thighs beneath your dress, his darkened eyes hungrily drank in the sight of you as he rocked his hardened length through your damp folds until you were begging for him.

“If my wife insists.” He smirked and rocked forward, sinking into your wet heat as your mingled groans filled the foyer.

The novelty of this coupling and desperation of his thrusts, combined with the insistent circles of his thumb on your clit, meant it did not take long for either of you to find release, left a sweaty, gasping mess on the floor of the entry way.

[murdermepeacefully]

Brahms Heelshire Headcanons

Honestly I'm not sure why it took me so long to do Brahms, given I've been writing him since mid 2022. But I've been really vibing Slasher Headcanon posts lately, and today, it's his turn!

As always, these are of course my own personal opinion, but feel free to reblog, add onto them, ask questions about them, or add them to the ones you accept yourself! I absolutely love hearing from others on their thoughts.

.♡♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡♡.

Headcanons from the Movie:

The Greta doll [Or the Nanny doll, for fics or content where the nanny is an OC or the reader] was never intended as anything dark/kinky/etc. It was simply Brahms mirroring how he'd seen affection shown towards him. I went into this in more detail on this post, if you're interested.

While he doesn't have the ability/time to do things like take care of his hair or shave, he does shower when the nanny is outside doing the rat traps.

When he can risk it, he'll sneak his clothes in with the laundry, but that became more difficult once his parents left. He's sometimes able to manage it by putting a few things in with sheets/blankets, but more often than not he'll simply use the clothes his dad left behind when he needs something clean to wear.

Def a clingy boy. Likes being able to have some form of physical contact with his partner, or at least be able to see/hear them if he can't do that.

Sometimes doesn't understand things that one would expect an adult to know, simply because his parents didn't teach him. The best way to address moments like this is to correct any mistakes gently, and teach him what he needs to know. [This does not mean to treat him like a child, just be patient and don't use a judgmental tone.

Occasionally has trouble processing emotions, especially negative ones, due to his father having a 'men don't cry' mindset.

Headcanons from Fanfic or Fandom Interactions:

Once he's ready to do so, he's okay with being seen without his mask. Respecting the boundary of letting him decide when that happens is a great way to show you care/trust/love him.

Definitely nervous about leaving the property, but he can manage if he's not alone at first. Once he's been out with someone he trusts enough to adjust to things like the crowds, levels of noise, and the environments, he's ok with splitting up for short periods of time.

When he goes out, he wears a cloth mask to cover the lower half of his face, so that the scarring will draw less attention.

Random Headcanons:

He's 100% the big spoon, regardless of a partner's size. While he does enjoy being held, he prefers to do so when he's holding his partner at the same time.

Really loves having his hair played with, especially if combined with kisses or cuddles.

Dog person [Cats are too aloof, and he enjoys the energy dogs can have. They're also a good way to get him going outside in the fresh air again]

18+ Headcanons🌶️🔞:

Spicy Headcanons:

This man does not know his own strength, so do not be surprised at all if you have bruises in the shape of his hands.

Definitely a switch, because he can enjoy both being the one in control and the one being controlled.

Age Regression Headcanons: NOTE: I am not intending to say that age regression on it's own is spicy or kink. However, I feel it best to keep it under the 18+ cut.

One of his favorite modern children's shows is Bluey. This is partially due to the characters being dogs, partially because of the parenting dynamics shown, and partially because there are heavier/more adult topics addressed in a way that's easy to process/understand.

To add onto the above, if a nanny/partner sees him upset and prompts 'Checklist', he will recite off Chilli's checklist from the episode The Show, while allowing himself to do the items on it. It started as a way to help him address his emotions in a healthy way, but soon became something that helps both him and his nanny/partner, as he can do the same thing with them.

The checklist is as follows: ✓ Have a Cry ✓ Pick Myself Off ✓ Dust Myself Off ✓And keep going.

Likes doing coloring pages or other simple crafts, and will often proudly present his partner with the end result.

Loves it when they put it on the fridge where it can be on display.

They turn his childhood room into a 'Littlespace' room for him to go to whenever he like. This means painting the walls a soft, comforting color, putting soft rugs on the floor, adding prism window clings to the window to cast rainbows all about the room, a permanent pillow fort, and a TV with a DVD player and VHS player on a wheeled table that can be moved anywhere in the room, with a bookshelf full of movies from their childhood, as well as more modern ones.

One of their shared favorites is Quest For Camelot.

[loniface]

As Fate Would Have It

Series: Team Fortress 2

Pairing: Sniper x Scout

Rating: G (for now)

Summary: Chance encounters can happen anywhere, at any time. However, Fate can be a cruel mistress. From the Scout's perspective.

Author's Note: It's been years since I've written anything, but this idea and theme popped into my head recently, demanding to be written into existence. Will be multiple chapters, probably. Be gentle with me.

Chapter 1: I Saw Him Standing There

I will never forget that fleeting moment, as if Fate herself was smiling upon me.  It’s really cliche when you think about it–and think about it, I have!  In fact, I have pictured the scene in my head over and over again for the past week, and it’s driving me absolutely mental.

I suppose I should elaborate.

Picture this: I’m in the subway station on a chilly evening in October.  There’s a few people walking about, so there’s a slight display of activity–a typical fussy child, a man loudly snoring on a bench, some no-name musician strumming a guitar for pocket change, a couple arguing over some mundane issue…  It all blends into a loud hum in my ears, and I’m glad to have worn headphones on my excursion to soften the blow of sound.

One hand is firmly holding a suitcase, the other stuffed in my jacket pocket, and my chin is resting against my scarf as I wait for my scheduled train to arrive.  I’m early today–Ma said it would look better if I arrived in a timely manner.  I told her it wouldn’t make the train arrive or depart any faster, but she insisted, so here I am, standing in the cold breeze with very few possessions tucked away in my luggage.

I got a job offer, you see.  Details are very scarce, but so are the jobs around here, and I can’t expect to live off Ma forever.  So, the best thing I could do was head West–some place called the Badlands, working for a man by the name of Redmond Mann.

I know; it sounds sketchy, but the job promises good pay.  I can figure out the fine print later.  Worst-case scenario, I’m stuck in an office job for a little while.  It’s nothing I can’t handle.

But, back to the important part of the story–I’m huddled against the cold, and I hear the train approaching through the tunnel, so I make a quick, mental checklist of everything.  Toothbrush, check.  Socks, check.  Underwear, ch–wait, did I forget that?  Oh, nevermind, the train’s almost here, so I shake my head and step up to the platform.  Other passengers begin to fill the space around me as our ride begins grinding to a halt.

The doors slide open, and that’s when I saw him standing aboard the train.

He was a tall man–like, really tall.  Ridiculously tall.  Granted, I can easily hover over most people, but this guy made me look average.  He had a face full of scruff, and a frown that would have made the aforementioned infant start wailing in terror.  Curiously enough, he wore yellow-tinted sunglasses and a hat I’ve only seen on television.  He stuck out like a very tall and very sore thumb, but, with my mouth agape, I probably did as well.

And, just like that, our eyes met. And, my heart skipped.  Or, did it jump into my throat?  Either way, it began pummeling the inner wall of my chest something fierce.

The other passengers began filing into the cabin, brushing past the two of us, but it was in a weird, slow-motion kind of way.  At least, it seemed that way to me.  Just like the movies–minus the chorus of angels singing from on high.  Let’s not get too weird about it.

But, what felt like a century was mere moments, and I found myself stumbling for words, as well as the ability to read the strange man’s expression.  Was it confusion?  Aggression?  Annoyance?  Or was he entirely oblivious to my gawking?  Those eyes of his–they bore into my very soul and shook me to the core.

Why did I suddenly want to forget about getting on that train?  But, what was I going to do–run up to a complete stranger and start a conversation about how I could see eternity in his eyes?  Is that what it was?  Was that what I was thinking?

He made a grunting sound and moved a hand to the back of his head, giving a slight scratch to his scalp.  And, then, he shifted to the side and moved past me.  Something about that snapped me back to reality and I grabbed the suitcase I had apparently dropped, quickly moving into the cabin just as the door slid shut.

I whip around, pressing my free hand to the window.  He was still there, still frowning, and still staring at me.  A shift indicated the train was beginning to move, and within seconds, all I could see was the blur of the subway walls.

But, for the duration of that ride, the man’s face would be all I could fixate on.

I readjust my headphones, give a slight sigh, and move to one of the empty seats.  It was going to be a very long night.  And, an even longer trip to New Mexico.  I close my eyes and lean against a very unforgivingly cold rail, but that scowling expression is practically burned into my eyelids.

Why?  Why him?  Why me?  Questions plague my brain, and suddenly, I’m daydreaming about a cozy little cabin somewhere far away from the hustle and bustle of the city.  It’s just the two of us–the strange man and myself–and we’re laying it thick on the domesticated stuff.  We’re sitting at a little table with a checkered tablecloth, finishing a meal of wine and–is it spaghetti?  We’ll go with that.  Either way, our eyes meet once more, but a very peculiar thing happens.

He smiles.

It’s the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen, one that could have ended world hunger or at least brought forth world peace.  Look, it’s absolutely stunning, alright?  But, then, his mouth opens wide and he lets out a deafening howl, something akin to a train horn.  My eyes fly open and I’m back on the subway train as it signals its next stop.  I look around; people are filing in and out at a rapid pace.  But, my mind is once again going back to that one last image of the strange man’s smile, and I’m suddenly filled with the regret of not being able to see it beyond my imagination.

I sigh again, hiding my now-blushing face in my scarf.  Fate was playing a cruel joke on me today.  She blessed me with a moment and dangled it right above my reach only to yank it away with a vicious smirk.  But, it was dumb of me to think there was anything more to the shared gaze with a complete stranger in the subway on a cold day in the middle of October.  Just coincidence, two people happened to look at one another at the same exact moment…  Time standing still…  How I long to see his smile…  

Goddamnit.  

There was no way around it.  It was love at first sight.

It was a shame I would never see this man again.

[blueberrybladelemonade]

Fall Forward (To Me)

aka Cae's

🍁🍂Autumn Special🍂🍁

You and Peppino take a walking through the woods of the turning autumn weather.

(Just something short and sweet for y'all 💜)

Dry leaves crunched beneath your feet as you strolled along the path with Peppino. Above, vibrant shades of orange and yellow leaves obscured the evening sky. You draw in deep breath, smelling the subtly sweet autumn air. Humming in contentment, you lean against Peppino. He looked to you and smiled, leaning against you in return. 

Your arms remained linked, free hands carrying warm drinks from your stop earlier. Peppino had suggested an evening walk last week, pointing out that the weather would be perfect for it. As the day came, you couldn't agree more. 

The air held a gentle but chilly bite, just enough to cause your fingers to tingle. 

You take a sip of the warm cider. "We need to carve those pumpkins before next week". Peppino nodded in silent agreement. The party was at the end of the month and you both still had plenty of planning left to do. Between Peppino running his pizzeria and your schedule, your plans for the party had gotten placed on the back burner. 

Fortunately Gustavo had covered most of the checklist where you and Peppino had neglected it. You were grateful to the smaller man for taking it upon himself to take over the plans. All that was left was to make the food and add the final touches for decor. That was much more manageable than what you both originally had taken on. 

You chuckle to yourself and bump your hip into Peppino's. "Don't forget your costume this time".

Peppino huffs softly, rolling his eyes in response. "Everyone trying to pass-a or throw money at me last year was-a scarring enough that I don't-a think I could forget". 

He shuddered, remembering how laundry day had overlapped the party last year. In a last ditch attempt at a costume without a shirt, Peppino grabbed a bowtie from one of his old suits. Unfortunately it had resulted in many awkward and embarrassing situations throughout the night. One of which where The Noise attempted to bribe him to jump onto the table and dance for money. 

You point to a small clearing in the distance, gesturing to lead Peppino along. Rich and warm hues blanket the ground in a layer of the fallen leaves. The foliage crinkle as you sit down, tugging Peppino down beside you. 

You take a final sip of your drink before setting the cup off to the side and lay back, leaves sticking to your clothes. 

Peppino follows suit, sliding an arm around your waist to pull you closer while the other holds yours that was resting against his side. 

A small sigh passes your lips and you lay your head against his chest. You feel soft touches at your side as you cling to Peppino and gentle kisses to your head. He shifts to his side, circling his arms around your back. You smile at him before relaxing further into his embrace. 

An incoherent sound bubbles from his throat, like the start of a sentence, but fell silent. 

"Hm?" You tilt your head up to meet his his gaze. Peppino paused, looking you over thoughtfully but said nothing, remaining still. 

Intermittently you'd both exchange stories and memories throughout the year. Peppino would smile contentedly as his arms were draped around you. A deep sound reverberated, his chest vibrating as he laughed with you.

You both hadn't realized how late it had gotten until you looked back up to the sky. Darker hues had begun to paint the sky. The first stars of the night dotting the horizon and twinkling brightly. It was then, too, you had become aware of how much colder the air was. A shiver coursed through your body, making you shrink into yourself slightly. 

Before you could sit up completely Peppino had pulled at your sleeve, drawing your attention back down to him. You quirk an eyebrow at him, watching as his mouth moves wordlessly before closing again.

"This might be sudden..." Peppino trailed off as you stared at him. He averted his gaze, instead choosing to look down at the grass. You nudge him with your shoulder, urging him to continue.

He tentatively meets your eyes, taking a steady breath. 

"What if we moved in...together"? The last part being almost a whisper as Peppino shrunk into himself a little. 

Was it sudden, really? You both spent most of your free time together more often than not. Whether it was as a date, or the more mundane things like grocery shopping or even just helping clean. 

You both kept a spare set of clothing at each other's homes and even spent the night with each other, frequently. 

Your chest was pressed right to his own, and you could feel Peppino's heart beating against yours. He felt your hands gently cup his face as your lips met. The chill dissipating as your heart raced at the idea of waking up to this, to him, everyday. The kiss was soft and gentle at first, then with a growing intensity but also tenderness. 

You felt Peppino tighten his arms around you, smiling against your lips. As you pull away, you bury your face into his neck as you grin. 

"I'd love to".

(I know this one isn't as long as my usual fics but I hope y'all enjoyed regardless!)

[willsimpforanyone]

hey :)) can i ask for a leo valdez x hypnos child ?? also i love your content <3

thank you, that's lovely of you to say!

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

it's difficult getting a child of hypnos to do anything especially when they don't want to

they have a sporadic sleep schedule, yet always seem to wake up well rested

it's confusing

anyway

when someone knocked on the hypnos cabin at 2 in the morning

absolutely no one wanted to get out of bed

the pillows were soft, the duvet kept the bed perfectly warm, the air was just chilly enough to want to bury yourself in blankets and never get up

but the knock came again, harder this time

you were in bed nearest the door and got a pillow thrown at you so it seemed you were elected to answer the door

opening the door let in a rush of freezing air and you shut the door behind you quickly to muffle the protests coming from your siblings

in front of you stood two hephaestus kids

one was muscled and clearly in pyjamas

the other looked a mess, and his shirt was fisted tightly in the other's hand

he was shoved towards you

"fix him"

and the other left

for a moment, you and the hephaestus kid stared each other down

he broke the silence

"hi, i'm leo, and i haven't slept in four days"

you nodded, feeling more awake now you weren't in the cabin

"hi leo, i can help with that"

leo seemed reluctant to go back to his cabin and from experience you knew that some people didn't react well to being in the hypnos cabin for extended periods of time

so the pair of you set off for bunker nine, leo's home away from... his cabin, at least

leo had been really bad at hiding his insomnia from his siblings, it turned out

they'd eventually persuaded him that he needed help but he'd been reluctant to go get help by himself

hence, his half-sister dragging him outside in the middle of the night to deliver him to your door

bunker nine wasn't what you'd call homely, but there was a mattress and a blanket stuffed into a corner that you supposed would do for now

mentally you gathered your checklist for how to help someone

asking if he was anxious about anything was stupid, you were demigods, everything is out to kill you

so you asked to feel his pulse

he offered his wrist and you placed two fingers on his pulse point

you didn't miss the sharp intake of breath when your fingers touched his skin

his heartbeat was bunny-fast, a frantic beat that concerned you

"...leo, how much have you eaten today?"

there was an extended silence

"mhm that's what i thought. stay here and find as many soft things as you can, i'm going to steal some stuff."

you managed to find some bread, some grapes, a granola bar or two and you hurried back to find that leo had piled rags and dust sheets next to the mattress

"...okay, i should have expected that. eat these, all of them, while i make this better"

while leo ate, too exhausted to protest, you shook out the dust sheets and folded them over the mattress, creating a cover and rolling some rags together to make a sort of pillow

making a great bed was a weird power to have but it had come in handy on those few quests you'd gone on

if you can make a functional place to sleep on a rocky beach, you could do it with anything

you remembered something your mother used to do for you when your favourite teddy had gotten lost for a few days

you grabbed a towel and made several rolls and folds, securing it with elastic bands

the end result was a slightly lopsided teddy bear, rounded ears and sharpie'd eyes and everything

leo looked sceptical

at your stern look he surrendered and took the teddy, instinctively cuddling it close

"alright, now this last bit is entirely optional and you have every right to say no, but i don't think you've had a hug in a long time and contact can help some people to sleep. i'm going to stay here anyway and make sure you get some decent sleep but if you'd like, i can lay with you?"

you could see leo turning it over in his mind, but the part of him that was desperate for sleep was definitely winning

"...yes, please."

you shifted onto the bed and opened your arms

he almost fell into them, shivering at the contact

"this is a weird thing to be doing with a stranger."

his voice was muffled in your neck

you laughed

"i promise it's not weird with a hypnos kid, we're really good cuddlers."

"i can believe that."

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

okay this is very much the beginning of the relationship but i hope you liked it nonetheless!

[daisyvramien]

NANOWRIMO CAMP CHECK-IN!!

🏕️🍫"Camp NaNoWriMo Survival Checklist: Snacks, Sprints, and Scribbles!"📝🔥

Hey there, fellow campers!🌲🌟 Planning for Camp NaNoWriMo is half the fun, right ? So, grab your backpacks and let's make sure we've got everything we need to tackle this writing adventure ! Here's your essential survival checklist: I. Snacks: Because let's be real, no writing marathon is complete without an arsenal of snacks to fuel our creative genius. Think chocolate (for those emergency sugar boosts), popcorn (for munching during intense plot twists), and maybe even some veggies (for… balance? Let's go with balance). II. Coffee (or Tea, if You're Fancy): Ah, the elixir of life for writers everywhere. Whether you take yours black as midnight on a moonless night or with enough cream and sugar to drown out your existential dread, make sure you've got a steady supply to keep those creative juices flowing. III. Comfy Blanket or Writing Cape: Let's face it, writing can get chilly, especially when you're burning the midnight oil. So, pack your coziest blanket or writing cape to keep you warm and snuggly during those late-night writing sprints. Bonus points if it doubles as a superhero costume. IV. Emergency Plot Twist Generator: Because let's face it, even the best-laid plans can go awry. Pack your trusty plot twist generator to shake things up when your story starts to feel a little… predictable. Just remember, with great power comes great responsibility (and possibly a few confused characters). V. Extra Pens and Notebooks: You never know when inspiration will strike, so make sure you're armed and ready with plenty of pens and notebooks to capture those brilliant ideas before they vanish into the ether. Plus, there's something undeniably satisfying about the feel of pen on paper. VI. Campfire Stories (AKA Writing Prompts): Keep your creativity burning bright with a stash of campfire stories (aka writing prompts) to spark your imagination when you hit a rough patch. Whether you prefer tales of haunted forests or epic quests, there's a prompt out there just waiting to inspire your next masterpiece. VII. Sense of Adventure: Last but certainly not least, don't forget to pack your sense of adventure! Camp NaNoWriMo is all about embracing the unknown, pushing your limits, and discovering just how far your imagination can take you. So, strap on your hiking boots and get ready for the writing adventure ! Alright, fellow campers, that's it for our Camp NaNoWriMo survival checklist! So grab your favorite writing beverage (mine's a triple shot of espresso, no judgment here), cozy up by the virtual campfire, and let's make some writing magic together. The Fox's Den is open 24/7, so whether you're an early bird or a night owl, there's always a place for you here !!🦉✨ Ready to join our pack of literary foxes ? Shoot me a message for an invite, and let's embark on this writing adventure together !!🦊💻✨

[uncaaj]

Fanfic - The Brekkie After (Bluey)

READ ON AO3 NOW!

The morning light crept into Bandit’s vision and seared his eyeballs. All at once he became painfully aware of how bad he felt. Time for his own version of the “Checklist.”

Dry mouth? Check.

Throbbing headache? Check.

Back aching from sleeping on Stripe’s floor and not his comfy bed? Double check.

Time to lay back. The show’s not going on today. 

“Ugh…babe?” he croaked. “I did it again.”

His wife Chilli didn’t move from where she lay next to him. “Me too,” she sighed.

“Me three,” groaned Stripe from the couch.

Bandit shrugged. “Well, that’s not too bad, I suppose.”

At that moment, a chorus of moans erupted from all the adults splayed out in all corners of Stripe’s living room, the casualties of the kid-free get-together they had last night that went a little too long and a little too crazy.

“Biscuits,” Bandit hissed. “Spoke too soon.” They were all irresponsible and were paying for it now. If he didn’t interact with any kids today, it would be a blessing.

+++

BANDIT: *yawwwwwnnnn* This episode of Bandit is called “The Brekkie After."

+++

Bandit massaged his forehead with his fingertips as he eased himself upright. Bright light assaulted his eyes as if the sun was right in his face. “Why did we think this was a good idea?”

“Can someone get the shade?” said Stripe, his strong bark barely a grunt today.

“Got it,” said Bandit. He dragged his lead paws behind the couch to the patio door. Pulling the shade across the glass felt like heaving a heavy rock across a swamp. He sighed with the relief of a dimmer living room.

“My towel is still wet,” said Wendy, rolling off the other couch and flopping onto the floor.

Pat scrubbed board game pieces off his chest and held up a bank note to show everyone. “Still have the bet I won when I dared you to jump in the pool.” He then let his arm go limp on the side table, accidentally knocking an empty beer can onto the floor. “Oops.”

“Only because Bandit dared to get cheeky with me,” Wendy grumbled.

“Seems to happen a lot at Heeler get-togethers, eh? The pool, I mean,” said Bandit, before feeling the roof of his mouth and making a yucky face. “Feels like there’s slime in my mouth.”

“Nah, that’s from when you ate a whole jar of peanut butter faster than Pat,” said Chilli.

“Blegh!” said Pat. “That stuff’s only good in small amounts and on crackers.”

Bandit leaned back and felt his back crack satisfyingly. He saw Josh Border Collie shiver and wince, which meant he was awake too. “I suppose since I’m the only one up, I’ll go put the kettle on and get brekkie goin’.” He shot a smug look over his shoulder as he stepped gingerly out of the living room. “You lot just lay there and have a think about what you did.”

“You as well,” said Chilli, sending that look back at him. “I recall this party being your idea.”

Bandit gulped. “Yes, babe,” he said as he trudged to Stripe’s kitchen.

“Well, I might have a shower then,” said Josh, sitting up rapidly, and collapsing back down just as fast. “Ugh, room’s spinnin’. Never mind.”

“Get in line, Josh,” said Wendy, shooting him a death glare with all the energy she had left.

The sink water filling up Stripe’s electric kettle sounded like a churning waterfall to Bandit’s sensitive ears. His headache rumbled inside him with the ferocity of a rolling timpani as he shut off the tap and placed the kettle on its perch to come to a boil. He then carefully placed the stray wine glasses on the bar into the sink before peering back through the entryway to the goo-like adults who had barely moved. “Stripe, what should I make for brekkie?”

“Could you make hangover eggs?” Stripe asked. “Those always do the trick.”

“What? No!” Pat protested, scrunching his snout. “That’s disgusting.”

“This isn’t like college, Pat,” Stripe rebutted, “I got more in my fridge now than just tomato sauce and day-old dim sims.”

“Don’t matter. Bandit’ll still put anything he wants in there, even stuff that doesn’t go together. Remember when he put instant noodles and anchovies in it after the ‘99 Winter Social? Blegh!”

“Never stopped you from lickin’ your plate clean every time, did it?” Bandit quipped.

Pat stuttered and the whole room mustered as much laughter as they could in their hungover state.

Bandit’s headache lightened slightly and his tail twitched with pride. “I’ve ‘improved’ the recipe through the years so just lay back and let the chef make some magic, alright?”

“Righto,” Pat chuckled, not willing to argue anymore.

Bandit nodded and went to grab some ibuprofen from a cabinet he knew was far out of reach for Muffin and Socks. The kettle clicked, signaling the water was ready. Just in time, thought Bandit. “And take some ibuprofen,” he told Pat. “It’ll take your crank away.”

Pat rolled his eyes and looked at Chilli. “Bandit sure is somethin’, eh?”

Chilli smiled. “Yeah. The best.”

After tea and ibuprofen were dispersed around the room, everyone seemed to come out of zombie mode. Of course, Bandit knew this was merely a chisel to the hangover when they needed a jackhammer. The kids were coming back from his big brother Rad’s pad later, so onto that brekkie.

The Faceytime jingle played on the tablet on the counter. Speak of the devil, and he shall ring, especially when you’re preoccupied with searching through Stripe’s refrigerator. He ducked away from the fridge to tap the green call button then returned to rummaging his paws through the vegetable drawer.

“How goes it, little brother?” greeted Rad in his usual sunny manner.

Cradling a green pepper, spinach, mushrooms, and bacon in his arm, he shut the fridge and turned to the tablet. He nodded to his brother on screen and tried to smile as he set the stuff on the counter. He silently wished that he didn’t look like he hadn’t slept in days, but perhaps the blue and red heeler mix wouldn’t notice. He was a little absent-minded at times.

“Whoa, you look like you haven’t slept in days,” Rad laughed. 

Well, throw that out the window. “Perceptive this morning, are we?” said Bandit, rubbing his eyes.

“Did you and your mates do it again?”

“Yeah, we did. Hope the kids ran you ragged as well,” said Bandit with a playful sneer.

“Yeah, I bet. Nah, it’s all good. We gave ‘em enough games to ensure they slept through the night. In fact, Bluey’s the only one up right now. She went on a run with me.”

Bluey scampered into the frame and waved. “Sure did!”

Bandit gave a thumbs up. “Good on ya, kiddo!” Didn’t matter if he was hungover or not, a grin from his oldest pup made feel light as a feather every time.

“Are you alright, dad?” Bluey asked, moving in closer.

Bandit rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, we just got to bed late last night.”

“Everyone?”

“Yeah, everyone.”

Bluey raised an eyebrow. “That happens a lot at Heeler parties, doesn’t it?”

A cold sweat formed on Bandit’s back. He had forgotten he used that excuse once before. He’d better hop off before any more questions were asked.

Luckily, Rad was on top of it as he pet Bluey on the head. “Alright, I’ll take care of brekkie for the kids. You just make sure everyone else is right as rain, you hear?”

Bandit nodded. “Will do.”

“Bye, dad!”

“See ya, Bluey!” With that, they disappeared from the tablet.

“Was that Rad?” asked Stripe from the living room.

“Sure was,” said Bandit. “Bluey’s up so I better make this quick.” He got to work chopping the bacon into lardons and the pepper into a fine dice.

“Hey, mate,” said Pat, wandering in, mug in hand. “Top us off, could ya? Everything still tastes like peanut butter.”

Bandit smiled. “No worries.”

After his mug was refilled, Pat took a seat at the bar and sipped the warm liquid, swishing it around his mouth to rid every last speck of peanut butter. “If my kids ever find out what we grown-ups do when they’re not around, I couldn’t look ‘em in the eye again.”

“Bluey nearly did, I think,” Bandit gulped.

“Ha! Insightful nose, that one.”

“Did I ever tell you about what happened after Chilli and I were here for New Year’s?” Bandit asked. Pat shook his head and took another sip. “So in walks Bluey and Bingo, looking to play Whale Watching with us-”

“Hang on,” Chilli called, making her entrance. “You cook, I wanna tell him this story.”

Bandit winked at her. “Fine by me, babe. You tell it better anyhow.”

Josh tapped his foot as he sipped his tea, the warm drink putting him in better spirits. “Will we ever, doo doo-doo doo, be that funky again?” he hummed to himself.

“You’re going to get that silly song stuck in my head again,” Wendy barked playfully.

Josh shrugged. “You kiddin’? That was the best part of the night right there.”

“I didn’t sound too bad, did I?” asked Stripe.

“‘Course not!” came Bandit’s voice. “I’m just glad you sang with me at all!”

“Just like old times,” Stripe called back.

A content silence settled around the room, broken only by the distant sizzling of bacon and the release of its sweet, smoky aroma into the air. The quiet was welcome among them all, not only because of their still sensitive heads but because it was such a rarity in their households since they had kids. All those old times when they had not a care in the world were now left behind, having made way for the new times and the joy and responsibility they now shared.

Wendy piped up. “Yes, I suppose it was a good song…do you think we will ever be that funky again?”

Stripe stretched his neck, feeling it pop. “Nah.”

Josh shook his fluffy head. “Nope.”

“Not a chance!” Pat exclaimed.

Everyone laughed, wistful nostalgia echoing between them until they all settled again into their tired, hungover selves.

“That’s okay, though,” said Stripe. “I like how funky we are now.”

Wendy nodded and sat back. “Yes, I agree.”

“It’s certainly easier on me head, I’ll tell ya that for free,” said Josh.

“Brekkie’s on!” shouted Bandit.

Soon they were all congregated at the dining table, each adult provided with a generous egg scramble on a piece of toast. Tea was refilled and they all proceeded to tuck in.

Pat didn’t know what he was in for, but it was hot, it was here, and any brekkie he’d wait for back home would just be dry cereal. He picked up the toast and hesitantly took a bite. 

“What do ya reckon, Pat?” Bandit asked.

Pat swallowed and couldn’t help but wag his tail slightly. “I forgot you made ham and pineapple pizza a religious experience,” he said, licking his chops. “I will never doubt your abilities again.”

“Uss!” Bandit cheered, pumping his fist. “Still got it!”

“Good job, babe,” said Chilli, squeezing his hand.

“As long as I wake up to this,” said Josh through a mouthful, “Good friends and good food, I wouldn’t mind doing this again. Just not too funky next time, eh?”

Everyone nodded. “Agreed.”

[bluecoolr]

For Life Or Until Fault

Alt Timeline 2.0 - Darrell x Odile Part 1

Warnings: none really, just a graveyard keeper settling in.

Odile belongs to @solmints-messyocdiary

The guardhouse was painted white with mint trim. Inside, however, it was plain, undusted, graying wood. At a hastily scrubbed deal table, Ilya, his potential supervisor and the cemetery's solitary guard sat eating a roasted chicken. In his grease-free hand, he held Sister Agatha's recommendation letter.

"Yeah." The guard's lips smacked as he chewed. "Yeah, everything seems to be in order."

He didn't give Darrell's papers so much as a cursory glance. He was a pair of hands that could work and a pair of ears that could take orders, everything else was of little interest.

"What kind of guns have you used?" Ilya creased the letter as he carelessly balled his hand. His pimples burned red in the chilly air.

Darrell was aware of the pair of rifles leaning haphazardly in the corner. "Bolt action. Lever action. Break action. Semi-automatic."

"Nice. Hey, what does that mean - fortui… fortuitous?"

Darrell pushed raven black hair from his face and told the truth. Ilya seemed genuinely interested. After much questioning, Darrell was able to convince him that yes, he was an amnesiac.

"What happened?"

"If I could remember, I'd tell you."

Ilya laughed and Darrell suffered to smile. What a stupid question, but Darrell couldn't blame him. He'd asked himself the same thing again and again. What had happened? What had he done?

He kept his discharge papers wedged between the pages of a dog-eared copy of Wuthering Heights. Under his name, there had been a checklist.

Is patient suicidal? No.

Is patient homicidal? No.

That was all the comfort he could have that he was good, that he had done no harm. But he had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn't the case.

Ilya plucked a torn piece of newspaper from a nearby stack. It was a simplified map of the cemetery. "This is the compound. Aside from the usual rabid fox and the odd drunk or two, we've been having grave robbings. Each disturbed grave is marked in X," he explained. There were at least a dozen x's. "This isn't entirely accurate anymore. We found two more just this week."

Darrell picked up a pen and said, "Show me."

Ilya studied him as he bent over to mark the spots on the map. Unremarkable eyes. A large pointy nose with a rounded tip. A handful of rogue freckles. He was still the type women would consider handsome, and Ilya resented him for it.

"Management wants you to stop who's doing them. People are mad."

"As they should be," Darrell murmured.

"Mmm." Ilya got up, bringing a chicken leg with him. "I'll show you where you'll be staying. You'll be working in the graveyard more, so you won't be set up here with me."

Ilya gave him a lazy tour and handed him his copy of the gate keys. He also gave him the keys to the "manor" house, which were old and cast from brass.

As they picked their way through a plot choked with headstones and slabs, a large dog leapt into their path. Her shaggy coat was mostly gray with black fur running down the back and flanks like a draped blanket.

Ilya had an iron grip on Darrell's sleeve as the dog barked furiously. He tried to kick it. Darrell wrenched the chicken leg from his hand and the dog paused. She ran to pick it up when Darrell tossed it to the side.

She trotted back to Darrell's side, very much devoted. When Ilya tried to pet her though, she tried to bite him.

The squat brick-and-limestone manor house was decrepit. It had once belonged to the proprietor of the cemetery, but had been abandoned long ago. Several windows were smashed and parts of the structure had long collapsed. The state of the inside was unspeakable.

His pockets lined with the advance from that month's pay, Darrell went into the nearest town to buy supplies. His new dog, whom he had named Isabelle after the unfortunate wife of Heathcliff, accompanied him. She came home with a new collar and had a bowlful of ground pork mixed with egg for dinner.

After cleaning, Darrell had moved every usable scrap of furniture into the front parlor. He had a desk, a dining table, a couple of chairs, a chest of drawers with a pitcher and basin perched on top, and a chaise lounge for a bed. Isabelle was given a wad of blankets and comforters by the fire.

The map of the cemetery was pressed flat across the desk. He decided to investigate the vandalized graves in the morning during his first patrol. Presently, he lay in bed, waiting for sleep. The world shut out by the music from his personal stereo.

Just before sleep overtook him, he noticed that Isabelle was staring intently at the window over his bed. There was a pleasant twinkle in her eyes and she wagged her tail as though enticing someone to play.

Alarmed, Darrell sprang up and yanked his headphones off. He thought he saw pale, willowy fingers brush the dirty glass and a dash of wild blonde hair.

Grabbing his rifle, he dashed out into the porch. The yard was deserted, but he heard the frantic patter of bare feet round the side of the house.

He gave chase and came to a halt in the empty backyard. He began to doubt if he saw anyone at all.

There!

In the woods, flitting through the trees. A white dress. A shoulder white in the moonlight. The woman turned once. Then, she was gone.

[fanfic-enthusiast]

Holiday Party Fervor

His friends were due to arrive any moment. Ratau stretched his back and went over his mental checklist of everything he had for the party one more time.

Decorations, check. Cookies, check. Candy canes, check. Eggnog, check. Knucklebones, of course.

He breathed a sigh of relief, tugging at the knit scarf around his neck. Everything should go fine. This would be great! This was the first holiday party the four of them have had in years. The tradition fell out of fashion for the four of them to get together when the weather got chilly. Stopping right around the time when Ratau had lost his crown all those years ago.

It felt nice setting up decorations around the shack to make it feel festive. It gave the small space a kind of warm and cozy feeling. All that the now cheerful shack needed were some guests to really make the space come to life.

As this thought entered the rat’s mind he heard a knock on the door.

“Hurry up Ratau, we are freezing out here!!”

“Oh! Coming!!” He's quick to reach the door and open it wide, all three of his friends stand there wrapped in winter coats and scarves to stave off the winter chill. “My friends welcome!”

“Oh cut the formalitiesss Ratau, we are just glad to sssee you again.”

“Yes! We couldn’t wait to party again like we used to, Bop was going on about it the whole trip here.” The worm on top of Klunko’s head nodded slightly as Klunko crossed the threshold and started removing his coat. Moving to help Flinky out of his winter ware as well.

“Hmf. It actually looks nice here for a change.” One of the best compliments to come from Shrumy in all honesty, warmed the old rat’s heart.

“Glad to have you all here my friends. What do you say we start off the night with a few rounds of Knucklebones?” Varied expressions of approval filled the space as the friends settled around their favorite pastime. Interrupted only briefly when Klunko got up from the table to fetch everyone in the group a tall glass of eggnog, dusted with cinnamon.

The space was soon filled with festive laughter and cheer as the group of friends rolled dice and drank together. The fire in the stove may have kept the shack warm from the elements outside but the comradery between these four brought a kind of warmth to the space that had been missing for far too long. That Ratau missed for far too long.

Having his friends over so often for game nights was different than this, this festive cheer that only came about when all of them were together for the holidays. Each of them brought something to the group that made gatherings feel incomplete if they weren’t present. Even Shrumy with his sourpuss attitude.

Speaking of Shrumy, he even surprised everyone with holiday sweaters for this get together! One for each of them! Along with some excuse of them being ‘no good for betting against if they were half frozen.’

They were very nicely made as well, the turtle put a good deal of time into making each custom sweater special. The pattern on Klunko’s even had an image of his severed hand sewn on the front which brought quite the hearty laugh from the crow when he spotted it.

“I still intend to win that back!”

“Ha! In your dreams, bird brain.” Shrumy shifted his shell to show off the hand strapped to the side of it before turning away yet again.

Donning their new festive sweaters they set about eating and drinking more eggnog together around the knucklebones table.

“Hey Ratau?” Klunko swirled his drink a little. “Did you make the eggnog differently this year? Tastes stronger than usual?”

“Hm? Oh yes! Just a little bit… I think? I wanted to make sure this would be a fun night for everybody so I got out the good stuff. Might have gone a little overboard.” “Oh! That's nice! You didn’t have to do that! It's great just spending time with you all for the holidays.” “Yesss it’sss been agesss after all.” Flinky smiled and took another long sip of the egg nog. “That being sssaid I’m not complaining about the ssspecial treatment. Hehehee.” Shrumy nodded in agreement and tossed his dice onto the table. And Ratau smiled, he was feeling quite touched by all his friends wanting to be around him like this. Meant they would be doing this again next year, and longer still after that if their luck held. Only time will tell. All that was left for him for tonight was to enjoy the company and celebration of friendship around him.

~

While the moon hangs high in the sky and the forest outside is blanketed in white snow and silence, the inside of the shack was full of more than just warmth and light. It was full of the best kind of warm lively chaos that happened when good friends got together.

Candycanes were shared along with the eggnog and other treats Ratau had prepared for the evening. He even got out some mistletoe for a few pranks, something he hadn’t done since their last holiday party. Dangling it above his friends heads without one’s knowledge sent him into laughter fairly easily. Though it usually came with ‘revenge’ of some kind later in the evening.

He would have to worry about that later however. Because as of right now, the only thing on his mind was song.

“I WON'T ASK FOR MUCH THIS CHRISTMAS!!! THIS IS ALL IM ASKIN FOOORRRRR!!!”

Ratau was on top of the knucklebones table, face flushed with his scarf wrapped around his forehead, holding his staff to his mouth like a microphone. While the rest of the friends swayed with the music and laughed nearly as loud as his singing. “I JUST WANNA SEE MY BABY STANDIN RIGHT OUTSIDE MY DOOORRR!!!”

“I jusst want you for my own!!” Flinky climbed up on the table and coiled around Ratau, squeezing a bit. “More than you could ever know!!” Klunko joined them on top, wrappin his arm around the two of them while Bop struggled to stay on his feathery head as they swayed. “Make my wish come truuuuuueeee!!!” Shrumy clambered up to them, on the table for his piece. The furniture squeaked under his feet. “ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAAAAAAAS IS YOOOOOOUUUUUU!!!” All four of them shrieked to the ceiling before falling to the floor from the table top in fits of giggles and ramblings of the lyrics. Flinky still coiled up around Ratau who laughed between hiccups. Shrumy slammed his fist on the floor as he was overcome with giggles. And Klunko struggled to get his feet under him, holding onto the table as he too was made weak in the knees with laughter.

Yeah… perhaps Ratau did go a bit too overboard with the eggnog.

~

Lamb tucked the gifts into their fleece as he stepped up to the door of the lonely shack. “Ratau? Happy Holidays! I have some things for you and the others.” No reply came from the door, which was odd. “Hello?” Lamb took it upon themselves to open up the door to the shack and was stopped in their tracks by the sight before them. Ratau was laying on top of the knucklebones table, fast asleep with some mistletoe tied to his tail, covered in red lipstick. Klunko was just coming to, in the corner of the room, where he had a candy cane tied to the stump where his hand used to be. Which he waved at Lamb lazily with a slurred “Hi there wee Laaaammmmbb.”

Shrumy was on the floor still out cold, wearing red lipstick and surrounded by a couple mostly empty punch bowls. Which… explained why Ratau was covered in makeup. And… Lamb looked around a bit more, then up and yep. There was Flinky, coiled around the rafters with a santa hat and snow white beard. “...Ill come back later tonight then.” And Lamb closed the door behind him with a chuckle. Leaving the old men to sort themselves out.

Klunko looked over his shoulder to Bop, who was curled up in the corner next to him munching on a cookie. “We… are absolutely doing this again next year Bop. Yeeaaaahhh.”

~~~

This was a secret Santa request for @teeteekaa

[glittergutts]

I feel a million times better today than yesterday ✨️

I woke up just a few minutes before my alarm and had a cup of ice coffee and got on my elliptical and did .3 miles which feels good for being out of shape. It's a good starting point and my legs are already feeling stronger from just a few weeks.

I wrote out my plans for the rest of my workout, homeschool goals, chores, and my morning checklist in my notebook. It's got blocks so it's easy to separate my lists and I'm able to focus on one thing at a time rather than one big list of doom. It's been good for my adhd brain I've been a lot more productive since separating my lists my categories.

Then I got started on a grocery order for Friday. I was feeling really stuck on dinner ideas, I'm tired of the same stuff we always make but idk what I want to try that's new. I feel like fucking everything has meat and i dont normally eat meat because i think its disgusting. I got some canned soups because it's getting chilly and I thought it would be nice and easy though I could just make some corn bread to go with it.

Anyway my day is about to get started for real here soon when everyone wakes up.