#sandcastle drabble

[needmorereading]

Love it! 👏❤️

Can we just talk about Sy owning a farm? And you just happen to work there... 💆‍♀️

Warnings: 18+, sexual innuendo, some description of sexual encounters. Sy being too hot to handle, reader insert.

A/N: So while we’re at it! I just want to mention there it an ongoing series by @r-t-doll with Farmer Sy you should probably check out! And also this headcanon by @achaoticaugust Thanksgiving  and by @killjoy-assbutt-1112 Sy headcanon

Farmer Sy.

Under the blazing sun of Texas, Logan Syverson labours all day in maintaining his farm and clearly never bothers with his shirt.

Skin drenched with sweat, all muscles and girth, he looks like a golden god while he works the chainsaw over the hard planks of wood.

You started working at the farm just a couple of weeks before summer began, answering an ad online offering a vet position at his ranch. Little did you know that Mr Syverson must be some kind of a Viking warrior descent with marine-blue eyes and a bushy beard.

Seeing his muscles ripples, your chest sinks so deep your lungs threaten to collapse. The air is arid, yet there you are, wetter than the bottom of the Atlantic, daydreaming about these hands gripping at your waist and lifting you up before he throws you on the pile of hay.

His bicep flexes while he smoothes a hand over the plank and you imagine his hand around your neck, holding you down as he rips your underwear off and forces himself inside.

He looks huge by the size of that heavy bulge in his shorts. Hardly able to keep those tree logs together when he sits with you during lunch.

“See something you like, darlin”?”

His question catches you off guard while absentmindedly, you gawk at his groin. With your cheeks burning, you quickly turn around and storm off to your office, too embarrassed to face the consequences.

Though your foot hardly makes it past the door, and you are hauled back and find yourself face to face with the blue-eyed giant. His breath fumes against your face, his hand latched at your wrist while he peers down at you with white-hot desire.

“How ‘bout you give me some sugar, lass?

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

my girl 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as possible age gap, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your brother's friend from work starts hanging out a lot more often. (short!reader)

Characters: Captain Syverson

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

The curtains stir in the summer breeze, the smell of pollen wafting in and tickling your nose. You scrunch your face, resisting as sneeze and flip the page of the book, your eyes racing across the letters, devouring them. After another year of academia, you’re all too eager to spend your summer devouring your ‘to read’ list. 

The flick of pages marks the passage of time. You don’t sense how the sky sifts from a beaming yellow to a gentle blue. Not until the knock comes at the door and draws you from the world built of prose. You blink and lift your head, mark your page and leave it on your pillow. You push yourself across the low bed and yawn. Only as you don’t have words to read do you feel the fatigue in your eyes. 

“Peanut,” your mother calls you by the childhood nickname you can’t seem to shake, “gonna help with dinner?” 

You open the door to her and step out, “yeah, should do something.” 

“You should,” she chides playfully. “I already got the roast beef in, just need you to do sides.” 

“Great,” you shuffle down the hall behind her and rub your eyes. You don’t know if it’s allergies or reading that has you so dried out. 

Downstairs, you go into the kitchen and the aroma of the roast has your mouth watering already. In your delve into the land of fantasy, you may have forgotten to feed yourself. It’s not an uncommon occurrence; during the school year, you often studied until your head pounded and your stomach roared. The human body tends only to get in the way of the mind. 

You work at peeling potatoes as your mom takes out a medley of vegetables to put in a roasting pan. She seasons as you chop, the low murmur of her outdated music filling the hazy summer air. You can hear the children next door running around and the bristle of trees swaying in the wind. 

“Oh, make sure to throw in a few extra, pea,” she says as you go to curl over the top of the bag, “your brother’s bringing his friend.” 

“Friend? Johnny?” You wonder. 

“That man from his work, Syverson,” she corrects, “with the beard.” 

“Uh yeah, I remember.” 

You’ve met Syverson, or Sy as he prefers. Your brother, Isaac, started his apprenticeship last summer with the man down at the metal shop. There are vague instances in your mind when you recall the large bearded man sitting at the table across from you. He’s older than your brother, you too. Probably closer to your parent’s age. He doesn’t say much either but he’s polite. You think. 

You shrug and pull out some more potatoes to add to peel and cut. You do so quietly, your mind wandering back to your book even as the real world threatens to wipe it away. You’re so swept up in the fraught quest to reclaim a forgotten world that you can hardly focus on the blade. 

You blink as the knife hits the board, too close to your thumb. Pay attention. Often your mom comments that you look far away and just as often you are. Existing in this world can be so boring. Potatoes and roast beef. 

You rinse off the spuds and put them on to boil. You’ll mash them like you always do and add your mother’s ‘secret’ ingredient; herb and cheese sour cream. You’re pretty sure every mother on the block claims that as their little revolution. 

As the water starts to steam, you hear a car pull up and a louder engine behind it. Your mom checks the beef, letting out a gust of savoury air. You are starving. 

As you toss the peels in the bin, the front door opens. Isaac’s voice carries through the house as he chatters on about sparks and some work thing. Your mom’s head pops up as she waits eager for his appearance. 

He peeks into the kitchen as a pair of footsteps follow behind him. You mom greets him with a kiss, “hello, bubby, how was your day?” 

“Mom,” he scowls and wipes his cheek, “it was fine. Burnt myself pretty good.” 

He shows a bandage on his forearm and shrugs. Your mother gasp, “oh, honey!” 

“Told him to put his gauntlets on,” Syverson stands just beyond the doorway, his shadow looming like an evil orc in a cavern, waiting to pounce. You shake off the comparison as he comes into the light of the kitchen, a case of beer in hand. “Brought something for dinner,” he puts down the six-pack and shifts as you notice the red cap and label poking out from under his arm. He catches the bottle before it can slip and presents it to your mother, “and for the ladies.” 

“Oh, Syverson, you’re always so sweet.” 

“Mm, least I can do, y’all having me, feeding me,” he reaches to rub his neck. “Mind if I use the bathroom? Gotta wash my hands.” 

“Course, dear, you know where it is,” she preens. 

He leans on his back foot and his eyes glint in your direction. Despite his gruff exterior, his shaved head and thick beard, and his work-stained tee shirt, his eyes seem to sparkle, “evening,” he nods in your direction, as if he’s only just noticed you. 

“Hi,” you murmur and turn back to wash the starch from the cutting board. 

Having company is always awkward. You’re the only member of your family who isn’t very social. You have your classmates and a few friends you’ll hang out with on occasion but your parents and your brother always seem to have someone with them. If it isn’t one of your mom’s HOA accomplices, it’s one of your dad’s neighbourhood buddies arguing over the barbecue. 

You continue to tidy up as you wait for the food to be ready. You take out some plates and cutlery, wanting to distract yourself by setting the table. You stack the plates and the utensil slides around on top as you carry them into the hallway. You have to stop short as you nearly collide with Sy.  

“Sorry,” he apologises and backs up, “need help?” 

He points to your armful and you smile and shake your head, “all good.” 

“Don’t mind,” he says as he puts his large hands around the stack of plates. They’re pretty thick and heavy on their own but he takes them from you easily. 

“Um, right, then I’ll get... cups.” 

You turn back and flit into the kitchen. Your mom hums as she strains the potatoes. She doesn’t notice you counting glasses from the cupboard and balancing them all in your arms. You go down the hall, this time without obstacle, and into the dining room. You angle awkwardly to put down all the glasses at once.  

Sy lays out the plates and cutlery one at a time, certain to have each perfectly centered and straight. He focuses on the task intently. The sight of his earnest effort contrasted by his burly figure is almost silly. You plunk down the glasses at the corner of each plate, staying on the other side of the table from him. 

“Your back from school,” he says as he finishes, stepping back to cross his arms, making himself even larger. Most people are big compared to you. 

“Mhmm,” you nod with a rigid tight-lipped grin. 

“You graduate?” He asks. 

You try not to show your surprise. You’re not sure you’ve ever had a conversation with him. It’s just nods and grunts sent in your direction. Just acknowledgement. Just courtesy. 

“One more year,” you say, “erm, I’ll go help mom.” 

“Right,” he drops his arms and grips the back of the chair in front of him, “don’t let me keep ya.” 

You inch backwards and spin around, trying not to run away. It isn’t him. It’s you. It’s easier to read dialogue on a page and pretend it’s coming from your lips than it is to hold a conversation in real life. You would rather go back and finish your chapter then sit at the table and eat with your family, especially now that you’ve made it awkward. 

[maybank5]

𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐤 (𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐡 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭)

pairing ⤜ yn x jj

summary ⤜ you and jj have never gotten along; sworn enemies since childhood. so why is then, when he shows up with bruises, you want to burn the entire world down for this boy?

tags and such: abuse, mentions of abuse, fluff, comfort, walks on the beach, mutual crushes, jj calling you 'mama'

a/n ⤜ needing some comfort jj fics in my life right now, and i'm sure i'm not alone in that. enjoy! also this was supposed to just be a little drabble, but she kinda took on a life of her own. not complaining though lol

song inspo ⤜ any kyla la grange song

word count ⤜ 4k+

JJ Maybank - the bane of your existence. Ever since he had trampled your sandcastle on the playground back when you were seven, you couldn't stand him. And one trampled sandcastle had set the stage for ten years of torment at the hands of this boy. He seemed to revel in making your life miserable. He wouldn't be JJ Maybank if he wasn't pulling your hair or teasing you or shoulder-checking you in the hallway. And you wouldn't be you if you didn't put your hands on your hips and glare at him, shouting after him a scolding, "Oh grow up!" that was only ever met with that laugh of his that seemed to bounce of the cinderblock walls of the school halls.

You had come to realize sometime around sophomore year that you and JJ Maybank were destined to be enemies. You found yourself looking forward to the school day, to see just how he'd try to fuck with you, and to scold him and hear that damn laugh. Your friends couldn't understand it; why the two of you always seemed to seek each other out, despite your mutual hatred. "You wouldn't get it," you'd say with a shrug. JJ Maybank was your mortal enemy, but you honestly couldn't imagine your school day, your life, without him in it.

JJ is no stranger to a fight. He's always getting into something with the kooks from Figure Eight. It's not out of the norm for him to show up to school with a busted lip or black eye. He always shrugs it off, brags about how the other guy "looks much worse." You roll your eyes and shake your head. He's never seriously hurt though, so you don't worry too much. It's not like you lose sleep over JJ Maybank. Still, you can't help the relief you feel that shoots through you like a drug whenever he laughs off the bruises or black eyes.

But today is different. Yesterday, JJ wasn't in school. Not that unusual of an occurrence. But today, JJ shows up to school with his face a galaxy of purples and yellows. Your heart sinks to your stomach as if weighted with a lead anchor. This wasn't just the result of a spat between a Pogue and a Kook. He looked like he'd been jumped and you spend the entire morning following him with your eyes. You want to go over and check on him, press your palm to his cheek, and ask what happened, make sure he's okay. But that's not you and JJ. Instead, you hug your books tighter to your chest and follow him down the halls with your gaze. All you want to do is run after him, check on him. It makes no sense. You know he probably just got in another fight. JJ was always stirring up some type of trouble. But he didn't have the usual laugh or smile this time. His eyes looked almost hallow, broken. It made your heart feel heavy in your chest. You could barely focus in class, all your thoughts drifting to JJ Maybank and those haunting bruises. They were like ghosts in your head.

At the end of the day, JJ was swinging his backpack onto his shoulder with a wince, about to hop into his truck with you surprised yourself. Instead of catching a ride with your friend Sarah, you find yourself running across the parking lot to his beat up, rusted old truck.

"JJ!" You call.

His head whips around, brows furrow when he sees you. Then, that lazy smirk spreads painfully across the snagged and scabbed lip, "Y/N," he says in that lazy, bemused kind of way of his, that let's you know you're in for something, "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

You want to scold him like you would normally. Instead, you freeze. You don't know what to say that doesn't include some sort of spat or dig. Instead, all you want to do is pull him close to you and hold him in your arms and it makes no damn sense.

"You weren't in school yesterday," you settle for saying.

"Astute observation, Sherlock."

Your stomach flips a little, excitedly like it does before a fight with JJ Maybank; like you were born for these little interactions. Instead, you take a breath and try your best to push through the wall he's putting up. "I just...I wanted to make sure you're okay?"

"When am I ever not okay?" JJ asks, pushing the blonde hair off his forehead with a practiced flick of his hand.

You sigh. He's deflecting. Of course he is. When does JJ Maybank ever take anything seriously. You don't know why it bothers you so much, but you need him to know. You need him to know that you care, that you're in his corner. You'd fight against him a thousand times over, but when he shows up looking like this, all you want to do is fight at his side and burn down the world for him. You know it doesn't make sense, but when did anything regarding JJ Maybank make sense.

You decide to meet him where he's put you. "Just seen you prettier, that's all," you say with a shrug. If he wants to deflect and be snarky, you can do that too. If snark is his comfort zone, you can meet him there.

JJ tugs the corner of his bottom lip between those feline-like teeth of his. He's amused, and it makes you happy to know you made him smile. Or rather, JJ's version of a smile.

"You worried about me, darlin'?" He drawls.

"If someone roughs you up too badly, who do I have to fight with?" You ask, and JJ laughs. Your stomach dips with the weight of the butterflies that have filled it.

JJ pushing his hair back again, smirk still playing on his lip, "Don't worry, darlin', nothin' can stop me from fighting with you. It's my favorite part of my day."

You cross your arms, fighting the smile on your face as you shake your head. "You're impossible," you say.

"And you love it," he says. You don't realize right away that you don't deny it.

"So...need a ride?" He asks, glancing behind you as Sarah's car pulls from the parking lot. "Cause it looks like yours just left."

Sarah. She's always trying to get you two alone. For some reason, she has it in her head that all your fighting is just camouflaging your "real feelings." You think Sarah needs to stop reading so many fanfics in her free time.

"Of course," you sigh, "Remind me to give Sarah Cameron an earful when I get home."

JJ just chuckles and unlocks the truck, tossing his backpack in the backseat. "Get in," he says. You don't argue.

You toss your bag in the back next to his before joining him in the front seat. Sitting together on his bench seats of his old truck feels almost intimate. This is the closest you've ever been to JJ before, and it's happening when you're alone. Both your brain and stomach feel as if they're on rollercoasters.

JJ backs the truck out of the school parking lot. "So, where to, Y/L/N?"

You tell him your street and he nods. He rolls down his window and with practiced ease, takes out and lights a cigarette one handed. You try not to wrinkle your nose. This is his truck and he's being kind enough to give you a ride. You aren't going to be a pain about a little cigarette smoke.

JJ begins to drum his fingers on the wheel, his right knee is bouncing jitterijngly. The cigarette between his fingers is doing nothing to calm his nerves, and you fight the urge to rest your hand on his knee.

"So," you say after a beat, "You gonna tell me about the sick fight you got in that led to....that," you wave a hand in his general direction.

JJ takes a drag of the cigarette, the air in the truck suddenly feeling thicker. "Not much too tell. Mouthed off, the usual."

You nod, "We both know that mouth of yours is gonna get you in some type of trouble one day."

JJ smirks, but it doesn't quite reach his eye, "Yeah," another drag of the cigarette, "But fuck, I wish hadn't been so drunk out of his mind to forget he was wearing that damn class ring."

You freeze. "What?"

"Dad," another drag, "That's who I've got to thank for these sick bruises. Dear ol' Dad."

"JJ..."

"It's fine," he quick to say, quick to shrug, "I've got it under control. It's usually not this bad. But last night he was completely hammered and I should have known not to..."

"No, JJ," you're quick to say, "Nothing you did is an excuse for this. Whatever you did, you didn't deserve this. This is on him, not on you."

JJ sighs, tightens his hand on the wheel, "Whatever," he says, another shrug, a slight sniffle, "It's just a few more months, then I'm eighteen and I'm out. It's fine, really Y/N. I've got it under control. And usually when he gets like that, I can hide out at John B's place, lay low a bit."

"JJ, you shouldn't have to..."

"It is what it is," JJ says, another shrug, "It's just the roll of the dice. The hand I've been dealt. I learned a long time ago it does nobody any good to run around feeling sorry for yourself."

"Does anyone know?" You ask, you feel like your stepping out onto a frozen lake, unsure of the weight of the ice.

"John B, his dad. They do what they can. No one blinks twice at a kid from The Cut with a few bruises. I've got a home, I'm fed. That's more than most of the kids from the broken homes 'round here. Besides, if anyone did come sniffin' around and decide to take me away, you know what that means, Y/N? That means being taken to the mainland, to a group home that'd probably be worse than where I am now. And I won't have John B or Big John or the surf to keep me sane. So I lay low, try to stay out of his way. It's fine, Y/N. I'm fine."

Your hand hovers slightly before you press above JJ's knee, right where the khaki cargo shorts cut off. His skin is soft, tanned. You half expect him to jerk away, to smack your hand away. Instead, he tenses under your touch, his eyes draw to you. You give him a soft smile.

"It's okay not to be fine, JJ. You don't have to be fine all the time, and you certainly don't have to be fine around me. It sucks, and I'm so sorry this is what you go through. You've never minced words with me before, so don't start now. It fucking sucks. But you aren't alone, okay? I'm here for you too."

"Mind if we make a pit stop first?" JJ asks.

You shrug, "I've got nowhere else to be."

You're sure Sarah is probably glued to her phone wanting every detail. You can make her stew a little bit.

JJ pulls the truck over at the drive-in burger place, Storm's. He orders two strawberry milkshakes.

"If you don't like strawberry milkshakes, then I'm kicking you out of this truck right now," he says, paying the carhop the $5.50 and handing you your Styrofoam cup.

"If you don't like strawberry milkshakes, I might never speak to you again," you say.

"Damn it," he snaps his fingers with a grin, "Nearly had an out."

You give his shoulder a shove and JJ laughs. It feels good to hear him laugh, to be the cause of it. You want to make him laugh over and over again.

JJ takes the truck out towards the beach. You sit in silence as you watch the waves, sipping your milkshakes. Silence has always made you feel awkward, on edge. This silence between you feels almost comfortable. Like neither of you have to say anything, and that's okay.

Still, you can't help but ask, "You have somewhere to go tonight?"

"Been staying at John B's," JJ says, "Dad'll cool off in a few days. Sober up. He's predictable like that. Hell," JJ laughs humorlessly, "I'll bet this weekend he'll pull up with an ice chest of beer and cans of tuna and have a whole weekend out on the boat planned just the two of us. That's as close to an apology as Luke Maybank can muster."

"JJ..."

"It's fine, Y/N. Like I said, I've got it under control. A few more months and then I'm out. I've even got money saved. John B and I are gonna rent a place close to the water. It'll be sick."

"Sounds nice," you say. "This is nice," you wave your milkshake out towards the sea just ahead, "I don't come to the beach enough."

"You don't? How do you survive?"

You can't help but laugh at how genuinely concerned he sounds. "Not everyone needs the salt water to survive, Jage," you say, "I guess I just never grew up with it. My parents are definitely more inside people. And sure we go to the beach sometimes. But I guess I just don't go out of my way to come here."

"That's just sad, Y/N. One of these days, I'm gonna have to teach you to surf." The comment seems to take the both of you by surprise. "Uh..." JJ's hand goes immediately to the back of his neck.

"I'd like that," you're quick to say, and it seems to relax him just a bit.

"Really?" That lazy grin is back.

"Mmhmm," you nod, "No one's ever gone out of their way to teach me anything like that before. And even I know you're one of the best surfers on the island."

JJ beams with pride, sits up a little straighter, "Damn straight." He takes another slurp of his milkshake, then lifts his chin towards the water, "C'mon," he says.

"Where are we going?" You ask as he's already bailing out of the truck.

"Just c'mon," he says.

You can't help but laugh, leaving your milkshake behind. JJ takes your hand in his and pulls you towards the beach. The wind is kicking up as evening approaches, and you walk along the sand, breathing in the brine of the salt water. JJ's still holding your hand in his, and you can't help but think it belongs there, in his.

"This right here," he says, "is why I stay where I am. I can't imagine being away from the ocean, the surf. John B says I have saltwater for blood and maybe he's right. But this right here, Y/N, is my favorite place in the world. It's paradise. Everything else, all the bullshit, it's worth it to be here. There's no where else I'd rather be."

"It is beautiful," you say, "I definitely need to come out to the water more."

"I'll bring you."

"You better."

JJ smiles, tightens his hand around yours.

The two of you walk along the beach, enjoying the sounds of the waves splashing, the gulls cawlling from above. Some little kids are building sandcastles as you walk past.

"Do you remember the first time we met?" You ask, "I was building a sandcastle in the sand box on the playground and you trampled right over it."

"That was not the first time we met."

"Yes it was."

"Oh no it wasn't. C'mon, Y/N, do you really not remember?"

"I remember you trampling my sandcastle is what I remember."

JJ shakes his head, "We met before that. Nursery school. About two years before then."

"What?" Your brows furrow as you try to think back that far.

"It was your first day and you were crying and clutching that stupid teddy bear of yours. You didn't want your mom to leave you. You sat off by yourself crying all morning. I went over and shared my Goldfish with you cause I felt bad."

"Oh my God..."

"Yeah," JJ runs a hand through his hair, watching the sand kick beneath his feat, "And then that day on the playground, I was so excited to see you again that I ran over and...accidentally stomped on your sandcastle. But by then you were so livid that I'd ruined it and started yelling at me, and well...I've always been kind of a shit about things and so I started kicking it worse, just to get a rise out of you. I'd have done the same thing to John B. But seeing you get all...squawk like that."

"I do not squawk."

"Oh you absolutely squawk," JJ laughs, "And thus began our beautiful rivalry as we know it."

"You're a pain," you say, but you can't help the smile on your face.

"You love it though."

"Do not."

"Do too!" JJ gives you a gentle shove with his shoulder, "You absolutely start half the shit that's happened between us. You go out of your way to track me down and yell at me for something."

"I do not do that!"

"You absolutely do that. And you drag poor Sarah long with you and she stands there and tries not to laugh as we go at it. If I didn't know better, Y/N, I'd say you actually enjoyed our fights."

"That's not true! You are such a menace! You get on my last never all the time and..."

"Uh-huh," JJ's smirk deepens, the dimple forms in his cheek, "Keep tellin' yourself that, Mama."

The term of endearment makes your stomach tighten. You can feel your cheeks heat, and it's not from the sun.

"Don't call me that," you say.

"Why not?" JJ asks.

"Because," you can't think of a single valid reason. "That nickname is for a significant other," you finally say.

"True," JJ nods, "And that's definitely not you, right?"

"Absolutely not," you say, your hand gives his an involuntary squeeze, "In your dreams, Maybank."

"What do you know about my dreams, Y/L/N?"

You give him a shove, and JJ laughs.

"I like that," you say before you can stop yourself.

"Like what?" JJ asks.

"Your laugh."

You swear his cheeks go a shade of pink when you say it.

"No one likes my laugh," he says.

"That's not true. John B likes your laugh, I see the two of you. He's always trying to go out of his way to make you laugh. And I like it too."

JJ blushes deeper, "You can't just go runnin' around sayin' shit like that," he says.

"And why not?"

JJ just sighs, lifts his eyes to the sky like he's saying a silent prayer and shakes his head, "You just can't, darlin'."

The two of you walk a little further, to one of the rocky hills. JJ still holds your hand as the two of you climb up to sit on the top. He pulls his knees to his chin, wrapping his arms around his legs. "Love coming here," he says, "Best place to sit and clear your head when the noise of everything else gets too loud."

"It really is beautiful," you say, "Thank you for bringing me."

"Haven't had a chance to come out here since the other night," JJ says, picks up a rock and turns it in his hand. "Went straight to John B's after."

You finally reach a hand out, cup his cheek in your palm, "I'm so sorry, JJ," you say, wishing your gentle touch could somehow erase the pain from his flesh. You realize in this moment that JJ Maybank should only ever feel gentleness and softness. It breaks your heart to think he's felt anything else.

"Nothin' to be sorry for," he says, overlapping your hand with his, "But thank you, Y/N."

"Make you a deal," you say.

"What's that?" JJ asks.

"Any time things feel like a lot, you can come find me and bring me out here. I need a surf instructor after all. Any time you need to clear your head and need an excuse, I'm here."

JJ smiles, nuzzles his cheek into your hand, "Thanks, Y/N." He takes your hand in his and runs his thumb over the back of your knuckles, "Can I tell you a secret?" He asks.

"Sure."

"I think that's why I pick fights with you like I do. Fighting with you...it's fun. And it pulls me out of my head. Distracts me."

You can't explain it, but his words make your stomach dip. "Seriously?"

"Yeah," JJ blushes again, ducks his head, "I just...it's fun. Isn't it?"

"It is," you admit, "I like fighting with you."

"But after all these years...." he sighs, "...sometimes I can't help but wonder..."

"Wonder?"

"If there might be something better...better than fighting."

The butterflies are back and you tilt your head to meet his eye, "Like?"

"You're my distraction, Y/N. Every bit as much as the waves are. You keep me grounded. It sounds stupid....but the reason I even still come to school at all is because I look forward to fightin' with you. I'm just sayin'....what if there was something more than fightin'."

"Can I tell you a secret?" You ask. JJ nods. "Sarah gives me so much shit for it, but fighting with you is one of my favorite parts of the day. I do look for you and go out of my way to yell at you for something. It's...it's fun, getting under each other's skin. I can't imagine you not being the fixture you've become in my life, JJ Maybank. I don't think I want to."

JJ takes a breath, the blush is back on his cheeks. You give his hand a squeeze.

"What would you want with a guy like me?" He asks and your heart clenches in your chest.

You let go of his hand and turn to face him, sitting up on your knees. "JJ Maybank," you say, gently scolding, "Don't you even think that. Not for a second."

"Look at me though," he says with a broken sigh, "I'm fucked up, Y/N. Just look at my face..."

You interrupt with a press of your lips to his cheek. JJ freezes, you hear the softest little gasp escape. You press another kiss to another bruise, and another. The bruise on his cheekbones, the cut above his eyebrow, the purple blooming along his eyesocket. JJ is almost shaking as you press a final kiss to the cut on his swollen lip.

"Jesus, Mama..." he says, and it sounds like a prayer.

"That a better distraction than fighting?" You ask with a smirk of your own.

"Fuck yes," his voice is thick and wrecked as you sit back, card your hand through the blonde bangs sticking to his forehead.

"I think so too," you say. "What do you say we retire our title of mortal enemies, hmm?"

"Yes please."

You can't help but giggle at the desperation in his voice, "What other title should we give each other then?" You ask.

JJ rolls his eyes, the smile on his face big enough to split him in two, "You're really gonna make me say it?"

"Mmhmm."

JJ shakes his head helplessly, "Alright, fine. You win. Girlfriend?"

"Boyfriend," you say back.

JJ ducks his head to hide the blush staining his cheeks. His smile has somehow grown even bigger. Then, as if finally getting a handle on himself, he reaches up and pulls you towards him, hand at the nape of your neck.

"You know what this means, right?" He asks, lips hovering above yours.

"Tell me."

"I get to kiss you any time I like."

"Well you god-damn better," you can't help but grin.

JJ chuckles lowly, before capturing your lip in his. The kiss is unlike any other kiss you've ever experienced; those sweet, shy kisses on doorsteps after dates to dances and diners. This is different. There's a desperation there, a hunger, and a hope all in one. JJ nips at your lip as the two of you pull apart.

"Fuck," he says on a sigh.

"Better than fighting?" You ask again.

"So much better."

You press another kiss to his cheek, "I wish I could kiss away every bit of pain, JJ."

"This?" JJ points to the bruise on his cheek, "Aint nothin'. I'd walk through fire and back for one kiss from you."

"I'd never ask you to," you say, cupping his cheek in your palm again. "You know what this means, right?"

"What's that, Mama?"

"I get to kiss you any time I like. No walking through fire required."

"You're letting me call you Mama," JJ says, reaching a hand out to twist a strand of your hair around his finger.

"Boyfriend privileges and all that," you say.

"I like the sound of that," JJ grins, "Tell me, darlin'. What other privileges do these new titles come with?"

You shake your head with a laugh, "You'll just have to see."

The sun is starting to set and JJ sighs, "Guess I better be gettin' you home."

"Pry should."

"And Big John is grilling out for us tonight, so I should get back for that."

"You gonna be okay?" You ask.

"Of course," he says, "I'm JJ Maybank. When am I ever not okay?"

You sigh and shake your head as he holds out his hand and helps you to your feet. "Besides," he says as the two of you start the walk to the car, "I get to look forward to seeing my girl tomorrow."

You can't help but blush. JJ holds the truck door open for you and you slide in. He goes around to the drivers side and hops in, turning the key in the ignition.

"Do girlfriends get AUX privileges?" You ask, reaching for the cable hanging down by your feet.

"Fuck no," JJ laughs, snatching it away, "I've heard the shit you and Sarah blast from her convertible. Girlfriend or not, Taylor Swift is not touchin' these speakers."

"But...girlfriend privileges."

"Girlfriend privileges nothin'," JJ grins, backing the truck out, "Girlfriend privileges mean I'm pressin' you up against this truck and kissin' you breathless before I tell you goodnight. It does not mean blasting Taylor Swift in ol' Daisy Mae."

"You named your truck Daisy Mae?"

"What?"

"That's more egregious than any music I could play from my phone."

"Don't you be talkin' shit about Daisey Mae, okay?"

"Stupid ass name," you say with a smile.

JJ lifts his middle finger at you with a smile equally as big.

"Alright," you say, "question."

"What's that?"

"Just because we've retired the title of mortal enemies doesn't mean we still can't fight, right?"

"Not the fun fights anyway," JJ grins, "Those fights I can always just shut you up by kissin' you."

"Menace."

"Always."

You shake your head, laughing and lean your head against his shoulder.

"Oh I am in so much trouble," he says, handing you the AUX cord, "You've already got me wrapped around your finger. You always have."

You press another kiss to his cheek, taking his hand in yours. You pull up These Arms of Mine by Otis Redding.

"And you've got me wrapped around yours," you say.

JJ grins, lifting your hand to kiss your knuckles. The two of you drive the rest of the way to your house in silence, your head on his shoulder and Otis' voice crooning from the crackling stereo. JJ Maybank was officially now no longer the bane of your existence, and maybe Sarah Cameron hadn't been that off-base after all. All you knew in this moment though was you'd spent the last ten years being driven crazy by JJ Maybank, and you'd gladly be driven crazy by him the next ten.

[neowinestainedress]

IM BEGGING ABT SUB!JISUNG WHO IS VERY PASSIVE AND RECEPTIVE PLEASEEE 😭😭😭

w!: femdom, orgasm control/denial, pegging, overstimulation, dom!reader, sub!jisung. no use of y/n, no physical description (no body type, hair, skin color etc)

a/n: if last year someone told me that my first writing post of 2024 would've been a jisung “drabble” i would've laughed at their face but here we are. i'm struggling to write lately so PLEASE please if you liked it let me know and reblog so more people can read it. enjoy!

Jisung would do anything for you. Or, well, to be more accurate, he would do anything to please you. 

You can’t name what you two share; if you did, you’d probably call it a tangle of messy bedsheets, wet lip kisses, and whispered moans. But there is something holding you two together. 

“Please, please, you can’t,” he stutters through gritted teeth. His head is rolled back, resting against the bedframe, damp hair sticks to his handsome face that’s tinted a bright red, and his hips jerk uncontrollably against your hand. 

“I can’t, what? Jisung,” you reply with a slight stern edge in your voice. Your hand stops at the base of his throbbing dick, leaking a copious amount of pre-cum, rolling down his length until it meets your palm. 

“No-nothing, I’m – I’m sorry, ma’am, I’m sorry,” he mumbles shaking his head. 

“Good,” you smile smugly. “Cause you don’t make the rules here, I do.” 

“Yes, yes, you do,” he hums closing his eyes as he tries to concentrate on his breathing. 

“And I don’t see why I should let you come so soon when you look so pretty for me,” you tease and notice how he almost glares at you before he quickly turns his disappointment into a frown. 

So soon. 

You’ve been edging him for at least 30 minutes; chasing his build-up just to crash it, ruining every chance of an orgasm right in front of his face, the promise of being pegged slipping more and more away. 

It’s not a punishment. You know it, and he knows it, too. He loves this. He loves when you’re all over him, your soft left hand crazing his skin while the right one moves with quick motions on his hard dick. Your lips leaving kisses like brushes of a feather on his sensible neck. The strong tug of your fingers in his black, long hair, making him hiss. 

And you love this, too. Jisung reacts perfectly at each snap of your finger. He’s so delicate as soon as you enter your private bubble and leave the world outside, crumbling at your feet like a sandcastle. His clothes are quickly on the floor as he lets you guide you to the bed where he lets you do anything you please. And all it takes to make him fall apart is you touching him. Your hands on his burning skin set him on fire, and elicit raspy begs for “more” following calls of your name as his pleading eyes look into yours. 

“You’re so pretty, you know?” You will never get tired of reminding him that when his eyes light up at each compliment. “My pretty boy.” 

“Yeah, yours,” he replies, voice slurred. You’re sure by the end of the night it will be completely hoarse. 

He’s doing everything he can to hold the nth orgasm in. He hates to fail, especially with you. He has to keep it together. But you’re not doing anything to help him. 

You lean over, pressing your arms together, pushing your boobs closer, the soft curves bulging out of your skin-tight top. Jisung wants to die. He needs to touch you, but you don’t let him, not now. It’s your turn to have fun, he’s just a toy in your hands right now, he has to watch and take. But he can’t endure it any longer. 

“You’re making a mess, babe,” you pout, looking between his legs. “I can’t let you come or else you’ll make even worse.” 

“No, no, please, I – I won’t, it’s too much,” he cries out. 

“Okay, then,” you say. You watch his eyes light up, a sigh of relief bolt over his face, just for it to drop as soon as your hand leaves his body. His eyes panic, he doesn’t even dare to look down to confirm your hand is not there anymore. You’ve done it again. 

“No, please,” Jisung whines. This time he can’t hide his annoyance. 

“I thought you wanted my dick,” you say, tilting your head to the side. 

“Yes but,” he almost sobs, “that will make me come as soon as… you know…” he whispers, too shy to say it loud, looking away. 

“Mhh, no, I fear I don’t know.” 

“God, why are you like this?” 

“Excuse me?” You scold. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but… I, I need to come. You’ve edged me for so long, I will… I will come as soon as you enter me if I don’t, and you won’t let me come that easily.” 

This is not a punishment. So, yes, he has a point. You do have a lot of fun doing this, watching him struggle to keep it together as you fuck into him. However, today is not the day. 

Without adding a word, your hand is back around his dick, moving up and down quickly. The sudden movement makes him gasp and he has to contain himself to don’t squeal in exactment. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he mumbles before the only things coming out of his mouth are moans. His hips buckle against you, desperately chasing the long awaited high. 

“Come on, let go,” you order, and before his brain can even register the sound, he comes undone in your hands. White cum spurts over your hand, arms and his abs, making a mess like predicted, but you don’t stop, milking him until there’s nothing left behind and he has to beg you to stop. 

“Good boy,” you praise, stopping your movements before leaning close. “Calm down, you did great.” Your words make him smile, but he still leans in for a kiss. “You can touch me,” you mumble in the kiss when you notice his hesitating hands lingering close to your body, and you don’t need to repeat yourself. 

Jisung pulls you closer, kneading the skin of your hips, long fingers pressing into your skin. He’s a bit aggressive sometimes without noticing, his eagerness makes him clumsy, but you don’t care, that’s another thing you like about him. 

“Do you still want me to fuck you?” You ask when you pull away, reaching for the bedside table to grab a napkin and clean yourself. 

“Yes, please, I wanted you all day, you’ve been driving me crazy,” he says, getting ready to lay on his back. 

He didn’t lie, you did tease him all day long. You were quite surprised you made it home and didn’t end up doing it in the car. 

His hungry eyes burn on you as you undress and slip in the strap-on. It makes you feel so powerful as you stare down at his bare figure, laying powerless on the mattress. 

“You’re so hot,” Jisung whispers, face catching fire as soon as you look at him and smile. He’s so shy and embarrassed; your favorite type to mess with. 

When your lube-covered fingers slip into his tight hole, his head rolls back as he traps his lower lip between his teeth to not let out pathetic moans. 

“Is this all you need? My fingers?” 

“You’re good,” he stutters. “You’re too good.” 

You grin. You know you are. 

As you get him ready to take your dick, you let your fingers slide deep inside and curl up just as he likes it, slow and nice, to let him feel everything. 

You get drunk in his low moans, muffled by the arm he put on top of his mouth to don’t sound so desperate, and the way his dick is hardening again, slowly throbbing on his defined abs. 

“You think you’re ready for me?” 

Jisung nods enthusiastically. “Yes, I always am. Please, fuck me,” he begs, hands reaching out to touch you. 

“If you say so,” you smile, pulling your fingers out of him, making him groan in disappointment. 

You pour a generous amount of lube on your strap and push it against his entrance. One hand runs under the back of his thigh to pull him closer as the other grabs the base of the dildo to start pushing into him. 

As you slide inside, your eyes don’t leave his. Your heart races as you watch him fight to keep his eyes open (you want him to look at you when you do this) but he succeed, cause he’s just too good. 

“Touch me,” you order when you bottom in. He’s tired, completely consumed by lust, but he listens without wasting a second. His hands cup your boobs, starting to pleasure you as you slowly move out of him. He knows how much you love his hands, and he does all the tricks he knows you love; playing with your nipples, squeezing them, cupping the soft flesh. “Good boy,” you praise. 

But it’s hard to be so good when you pick up a steady rhythm. 

“You’re big,” he cries out as his head rolls back and his lips part to let out louder moans. 

“But you can take me, can’t you?” You tease, but behind your words hides genuine concern. He has this habit of rushing into things because he’s greedy. 

“Yes, yes, I can do anything for you,” he replies, nodding swiftly. 

“Good,” you hum. When you lean closer to kiss him, his hands wrap around your shoulders to pull you closer. His hips roll against you, messily trying to meet you halfway, and before you realize, his legs wrap around your body. 

“Somebody’s more eager than usual today,” you grin, brushing his wet black hair behind. 

“I’m – I’m sorry, I want you so bad.” 

“I’m right here,” you assure, kissing his cheek. “Do you want it harder?” 

Words struggle to come out and the only thing he can do is nod quickly. You straighten your back and then your hands grab his waist to pull him closer to you. The new position allows you to fuck faster into him, the harsh slam of your hips against his soft legs creating the vulgar sounds of skin loudly resonating in the room. 

“Please, please,” he moans, his voice so deep and hoarse it hits you straight to the core. “Wanna come, please, please, I’ll be good.” 

You quirk a brow. “Will you?” 

“Yes,” he nods enthusiastically. “I’ll take another one, I’ll take – I’ll take everything you have to give me, but please, let me come,” he begs. His eyes stare into yours, and your heart skips a bit at his clumped wet lashes, tears are pooled at the corner and you know with this orgasm they will flow like rivers on his cheeks. 

“Fine, you can come,” you say. Your hands clench harder around his waist, causing his skin to redden, but he barely feels it, too concentrated on the pleasure your fast thrusts are giving him. You don’t even need to touch his dick before he comes undone for the second time, shaking uncontrollably in your hands as the cum covers his lower abdomen. 

But this time you don’t slow down when he’s done, your movements are steady and leave him breathless. 

“Fuck,” he screams, fingers desperately reaching for you, and one of your hands intertwines with his fingers. But the soft gesture doesn’t match the ruthlessness of your movements. 

“You’re a mess,” you point out, kissing him. The tears are streaming down his face, his lips are plump from the torture he applied with his teeth, his hair is a mess, and his chest is rising fast. 

“But – but you like me,” he struggles to say, “you still like me, right? Please, tell me —fuck— tell me you still like me.” 

You smile, caressing his burning cheek. “Of course, I do. You’re my beautiful mess, right?” 

“Yes, yeah, I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m only —mmph— only yours,” he mutters. 

“Yeah, mine,” you say, cupping his face before pulling him into a deep, long kiss. 

Jisung’s hands run on your back, his short nails scratch your skin but you don’t mind, instead, you start moving even faster, pushing him close to the edge again. 

“Not again,” he cries, pleading eyes looking up at you. 

“You promised,” you remind him. 

He sniffles, trying to clean up the mess on his face with the palm of his hand but only makes it worse. “But – but it’s too much, I can’t last long– longer.” 

“We better make it quick, then.” 

His eyes light up. “Wa-wait, I can – I can come again?” 

You nod. 

“Ca-can you help – help me?” 

“Nope, no hands, babe. Don’t act like it’s hard for you.” 

“But –” 

Your stern gaze stops him in his tracks, and he simply nods. His eyes widen when you start teasing his nipples, and you both know it’s going to be even easier for him to come this time. And as expected in a few seconds he’s making a mess again. His moans are so messy and loud you’re surprised the neighbor didn’t come knock on your door yet. 

“Fuck, fuck, God,” he cries loudly, hiding his face with the pillow that he’s holding so tight his knuckles are going white. “Please, please, I – I, fuck, fuck.” His words are an incoherent mess, and more and more strings of white lay where the others are dried up by now. “Too much, too much, ma’am, can’t, no more.” 

You slow down while your hands caress his waist to soothe him, but his breathing is still frenetic and mumbles are coming out of his mouth. 

“You did great, you did such a good job,” you whisper, moving the corner of the pillow out of his face, forcing him to let go, and caressing his burning face. “Let me kiss you.” 

After the kiss you slip out of him completely and the emptiness makes him whine loudly. Once you’re out of the strap, you reach him with a glass of water and watch as he gulps it quickly. 

“Color?” You ask. You still haven’t come, and you need it. But he has already done so much you don’t want to push him over the edge. 

He slumps back on the bed, and you’re ready to hear a “red” but he surprises you. “Green, but I – I need just a few seconds to calm down. You’re too – too good at this,” he chuckles, blushing bright red. 

You smile, caressing his face. “You can use your fingers if you’re too stimulated.” 

He shakes his head. “No, I – I want you to feel you, please.” 

You chuckle at how he’s already in that mood again, ready to beg and do anything to make you feel good and make you proud of him. 

“Are you ready?” You ask as you straddle his lap. 

Jisung gulps and then nods, letting his hands rest on your hips. “I just – I can’t promise I’ll last long.” 

“It’s alright. Touch yourself, get yourself hard for me.” 

His right hand leaves your side to wrap around his soft dick, and as soon as his fingers come in contact with his skin he jerks up. He’s so fucking sensitive. And he knows he might’ve flown too close to the sun, but he doesn’t want to back down. 

He rarely gets to be inside of you, and he loves it, especially when he’s so stimulated. Will he turn into a mess in two seconds again? Yes. Does he care? No.

“Go slowly,” you say, watching as his big hand slides up and down his length. His long fingers shake every time he comes close to the sensitive tip and a strangled moan gets trapped in his throat. 

“Do – do you like this? Am I being good for you?” He asks with a shaking voice, eyes desperately seeking your validation. 

You nod. “So good. Just a few more, babe.” 

He hums, swallowing again as he tries to fight himself to not get close to another orgasm. But you’re not cruel, you just need him to get hard again. 

“Enough,” you order, making him stop immediately. His hand goes back on your body and his hard dick throbs against his abs. “Are you ready for me?” 

“Yes, I am, please, fuck me,” Jisung begs, grinding his hips against you. 

You snicker, shaking your head. “So greedy. After everything we did, you still want more.” 

“Yes, I need you. And I – I want you to feel good.” 

You need that too. Seeing him fall apart on your strap got you weak in your knees, and now you need to come. You know you won’t last long either when you’ve been on the edge all night. 

When you slide on top of him, his hips buck up, making you choke on a moan. “Jisung,” you scold. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “Please, use me.” 

And you do. You start to move up and down, feeling him fill you up, reaching so deep inside of you.  

“Touch me,” you order. “You know how I like it.” 

Jisung is lost in his haze, the afterglow of before mixing with the lust of this moment is getting completely in his head and this simple task seems impossible, but he always gives you what you want and ask for. 

So, even if not so quickly, his fingers reach your clit. When he starts rubbing it in swift circles, you see stars, and you know it won’t take long to fall apart. 

“You’re so wet, and feel so – so good,” he cries out. The way you squeeze around him is driving him insane, stimulating him like never before. “I need you, can you – can you kiss me? I won’t – I won’t stop I promise.” 

You don’t reply, and simply lean in to give him what he wants. His movements stop for a brief second but restart shortly after. Your moans blend in the kiss as your hand reaches his hair to tug on it, earning a low grunt from him. 

“You like it when I treat you roughly, don’t you?” You pull away just enough to get a glimpse of his face before tugging again, watching as his lips part to set free an even deeper moan. 

“Ye-yes, you can – you can do whatever you want with me,” he mumbles. 

“I know, honey, I know,” you grin before kissing him again. This time it’s rough and desperate, taking his breath away. 

When you pull away to have more room to move on top of him, your hand places on his chest before running up to reach his neck. Your thumb runs over his neck, caressing his adam’s apple as it bobs in his throat. He reached the limit. He’s holding on to make you feel good but you can see he’s pushing himself for you. There’s nothing in his eyes, just lust and need to release. His moans are loud and incoherent, and his hips pathetically try to meet you halfway. And when your hand wraps around his neck, he loses it. 

“Mhh, please, please,” he starts begging, his words sounding even more embarrassing muffled by your hand restricting the flow of air in his lung. The hand that is not working on you clenches hard around your waist, his nails leaving marks on your skin. “Need you, please.” 

“I’m right here.” 

Jisung cries, shaking his head. “Need you to – to come. Please, come with me. I’m – I’m good, right? You – you are close.” 

“You think so?” You tease. 

And he almost starts sobbing. “Yeah,” he cries in a snarl. “I know I – I make you feel good. I’m good for you, I know I am, please, tell me I’m – I’m your good toy.” 

You’d love to play with him more, but he’s at his breaking point, and even if all of this is playful you can see he’s far too deep in subspace and any degrading word might hit him too close. 

“You are,” you whisper, letting go of his neck to kiss him. “You’re my good boy. And since you’re my good boy —fuck— you will come with me, right?” 

“Yes, yes, I – I will, please, yes, yes,” he replies, reaching for your lips again. 

“Come with me.” 

“Oh, fuck,” he moans. “Thank you, thank you, fuck, thank you so – so much,” he mumbles breathlessly, words mixing with groans and whimpers as both of your orgasm break through. Your movements falter as the pleasure gets to your head and you finally let go of the built-up pressure, but you still ride him until you make sure you’re both done. 

And when you’re sure there’s nothing more to take and give, you collapse on his body. 

“Stay,” Jisung murmurs, wrapping his arms around your back when you try to roll to the side. “Please, stay,” his voice shakes, and a sob rolls from his tongue. 

“Jisung?” You ask worriedly, lifting your head to look at him. 

“I’m fine, I just…” he sniffles, “I… I want to feel you, and…cuddle some more.” 

You smile, letting out a sigh of relief. “Can I at least slip out of you?” 

He nods, and you slowly get off him. “You have cum everywhere, can I clean you up?” 

“No. I mean, yes, but not now, can we… can we just cuddle? I need you.” 

He’s still into his subspace and you won’t pull him out of there. You know he will fall asleep in that mess, but you can take care of that later. 

“Come here, rest your head against my chest,” you say, laying at his side, opening your arms so he can cuddle between them. “Is this alright?” 

“Perfect,” he mutters, nuzzling against your bare chest. “You smell good.” 

“Well, thanks, but I’d say I smell like sex.” 

“Mhh,” he whispers. “Thank you for taking care of me.” 

“It’s nothing, I have fun with you, and I like you.” 

He hums, and then some seconds of silence follow before the loudest thing he can say slips from his lips. “I love you.” 

You still, body stiffening, and look down. “You… what?” 

“I think I love you,” he replies nonchalantly, voice muffled by your chest. 

You can’t find the words to reply and, in your heart, you don’t know. “I don’t… I don’t know how to react. I think you’re confused.” 

You feel him shake his head, and you wonder how conscious he is. 

“I think we should… mhh, maybe talk about this tomorrow,” you say, trying to keep it cool, but you know he can feel your heart beating an abnormal amount inside your rib. 

“Fine,” he whispers, holding you closer. “Just don’t leave.” 

You gulp and look down. And as you watch Jisung’s body relax as he succumbs to sleep; his long lashes sitting on his rosy cheeks, his long hair framing his handsome face, his plump lips slightly parted puffing hair, you think to yourself you’re screwed. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t leave.” 

© neowinestaindress; all rights reserved. do NOT repost, modify, or translate any work from this blog on any other platform and claim it as yours. you can find my works on ao3 (neowinestaindress) and wattpad (winestaintedress_; currently inactive).

[b0ne-merchant]

Hii, I was wondering if you could do headcanons of how (classic) Sans acts when he realizes he has a crush on you :) Thank you, and remember to eat and stay hydrated :D

You anons are so nice :))) you do the same boo <3

i couldnt stop thinking about this scenario and before i knew it i wrote a whole additional drabble to go along with it LOL so enjoy that free of charge at the end of the headcanons :D

[content warning for several dick jokes lol im not sorry]

Undertale!Sans with a crush

If you were to ask Sans how he caught feelings, he'd probably claim that it just hit him all at once. Everyone else who was around him will tell you that they saw the signs long before the two of you became official.

One day you wave goodbye to him at his hotdog stand and his soul suddenly tries to leap out of his chest and follow you. It was that very moment that he knew he was screwed.

He definitely tries to keep his crush under wraps (and deny it himself) but it just slips out in several places.

He just has to show Papyrus the hilarious meme you sent him, and he needs to check out that new thing you've been raving about.

He starts texting you back really quickly. He can leave people on delivered for days, but you? Near instant response.

Late night text chains with you become commonplace. He can stave off sleep for just one more text with you... maybe one more... okay this is the last one...!

He has noticeably more energy after talking to you. Suddenly he's not dragging his feet as he walks, he's prancing like a horse in dressage. Okay maybe not that much but he's definitely stepping around with purpose.

The frequency of suggestive jokes skyrockets. Suddenly, every other pun he throws at you is some flavor of dirty.

His joke frequency in general bumps up, too. Sans wants to make you laugh so badly, and his soul flutters deliciously at the sound of it.

On the flipside, he gets very jealous when others make you laugh. That sound is for him only, thank you very much.

Lots of stolen glances. Sometimes at your face, but most often at your hands. He really wants to hold them. He wants to know how your fingers feel intertwined with his. He wants to squeeze your hand to remind you that he's there and that he loves-- oh shit you caught him looking. Quick, Sans, act natural!

Sans invites you to all sorts of events and outings. He never calls them dates, though. He's too nervous to put any sort of label on things, even if you thanking him for "hanging out" makes his soul die a little on the inside.

Please help this man. He really needs a friendly push in the right direction to finally admit how he feels.

~~~

The door clicked shut behind Sans as he let out a tired sigh. He dropped his heavy briefcase on the ground, and the loose hotdogs and condiment bottles rattled around inside. Today had been an extra busy day at his little hotdog stand that sat in a prime location on the piers. The hot swell of the sun after a cool, rainy spring had brought the residents of the city out in droves, and if there's one thing someone starts craving on the docks after hours of sandcastles and suntanning, it's a big, juicy hotdog. Now, after a full day of slinging ‘dogs, Sans was ready to collapse in his bed and not wake til at least the third time Papyrus yelled at him to get up.

Speaking of…

The house was unusually quiet. And dark. There were still a few drops of evening light outside, but the blinds inside the house had been pulled, shrouding the entire interior in darkness. It wasn't quite the darkness that unsettled Sans, however. It was the silence. Papyrus was usually home by the time Sans had wrapped up his day at the stand. The only times this wasn't the case were when he was having a particularly late training session with Undyne, but in those cases, he would always text Sans to inform him of the change in schedule.

“hey, pap, you home?” Sans called out. There was no response.

Sans pulled out his phone and double-checked his messages, slipping off his sandals on the welcome mat and toeing his socks off his feet. He kicked them somewhere into the darkness as he tapped on Papyrus's contact. The most recent message was still the shaky picture Sans had sent of a rather smug seagull picking up a slice of hotdog that Sans had tossed at it, as well as a message about how people were flocking to him for a taste of his hotdogs. Papyrus had simply reacted to the message with a thumbs down emoji.

There was, however, a new message from a different contact. The ever-present smile on his face lifted at the corners at the sight of the contact name, the unease melting away from his system.

You: Hey bonehead, how was the rest of your day? Bet it got pretty slow and boring after I left :P

Sans: nah i got ppl lining up round the block 4 a taste of my sausage

You: Ew >:( but like I guess they ARE pretty good lol. Are you gonna be open tomorrow? I have an early shift and could use some lunch afterward

Sans: yes im open tmrw but u can have my wiener whnvr u like ;)

Sans chuckled as he pressed send and threw his keys in the bowl next to the door. He let his phone linger on his messages with you, hoping for a quick reply. He reached for the light switch, deciding to raid the pantry for a healthy dinner of junk food.

Click!

Light flooded the room, and Sans's soul leapt to his throat. The phone dropped to the floor as his magic flared to life in his hands, ready to defend himself as needed. But, as he quickly regained his bearings from the startle, he was met with an entirely different emotion – confusion.

Papyrus was sitting silently on the couch, his arms crossed and a deadly serious look on his face. Next to him was Undyne, equally as serious with just a touch of blood-thirst as she tapped a spear on the ground. Finally, in the recliner, sat Alphys, wringing her hands together and looking like she'd rather be literally anywhere else.

Papyrus kicked the ottoman in front of the couch forward. “HAVE A SEAT, BROTHER.”

Sans glanced from Papyrus, to Undyne, to Alphys, then back to Papyrus. He opted to stay near the door, trying to glean whatever he could from the situation. He shoved his hands in his pockets and made an attempt to seem relaxed.

“did i miss game night or something?” he chuckled, looking around and suddenly feeling hot in his own bones. “sorry, pals, i can't help that i got a monopoly on hot dog sales. that's just the game of life. i hope i’m not in trouble.”

Papyrus was gritting his teeth harder with each board game pun. Undyne was stifling a laugh and trying to look stoic at the same time. The two emotions combined, giving her an absolutely maniacal grin. Alphys started to nervously pick at a loose thread on the chair.

“THIS IS NO TIME FOR JOKES, SANS. THIS,” Papyrus suddenly stood and dramatically paused, placing his hands on his hips, “IS AN INTERVENTION. NOW PLEASE, SIT. AND HAND OVER YOUR PHONE.”

His smile faltered, and all he could eke out was a dumbstruck, “what?”

“WE ARE INTERVENING, SANS. THIS HAS GONE ON FOR LONG ENOUGH. WE JUST WANT WHAT IS BEST FOR YOU. YOUR FRIENDS ARE WORRIED ABOUT YOU,” Papyrus gestured to the other two monsters. He then put his hands over where his heart would be, specks of tears forming in his eyes. “I’M WORRIED ABOUT YOU.”

“i don't–”

“We're talking about your love life, you dork!” Undyne slammed the end of her spear on the ground. “Now give us your phone so we can make sure you don't screw it up!”

Sans froze.

“Papyrus t-told us about them,” Alphys spoke up.

“i've mentioned them two times?” Sans argued, looking to his brother.

“I-I didn’t even say th-their name…”

“THAT'S TWICE MORE THAN THE USUAL AMOUNT OF TIMES YOU MENTION SOMEONE.” Papyrus cut in, jabbing his finger in the air matter-of-factly. “I HAD MY SUSPICIONS AFTER THE FIRST TIME, BUT I HAD TO BE SURE. WORRY NOT, BROTHER, FOR I HAVE GATHERED ALL THE DATING EXPERTS I KNOW – INCLUDING MYSELF – HERE TO MAKE SURE YOU SUCCEED IN COURTING–”

Sans interrupted. “you know, i really don’t appreciate getting jumped in my own living room.”

Undyne lets out a laugh, like a crack of thunder. “He’s not denying it!” she very helpfully points out.

“i’m not doing this.” Sans leaned down to pick up his fallen phone. All he wanted was to walk away from whatever the hell was happening in his living room and retire to his bed.

Except that was clearly not going to happen.

As soon as he started moving toward the phone, a spear shot by his head with a whistle and impaled the door behind him with a crash. Sans had dodged it on instinct, blinking a solid foot away from the spot where he had once been. He leapt once again at the phone.

“Tackle him!” Undyne shouted, another spear summoned in her hands.

She threw another spear through the air, and Sans once again dodged. The spear went straight through the wall where he was just standing, shaking the nearby table and sending the poor pet rock that sat atop it careening from its paper plate nest. What he didn’t count on was Papyrus tackling him to the ground after his quick sidestep. The two brothers fell to the floor with a thump, and Papyrus kicked away the phone as Sans struggled under his grasp.

Undyne scooped up the phone. Her grin turned to a pointed frown. “It’s locked!” she groaned.

yes!

“THE PASSCODE IS 6969.”

no!

Alphys gave him an unimpressed look. “Real cl-classy, Sans.”

Undyne unlocked the phone, and the commotion paused. Her good eye began to scroll back and forth as she read the messages. Her brows furrowed, then her eye widened, and she threw her head back in a howl of laughter. Sans, watching the whole ordeal, slowly lowered his head to rest on the carpet, his face starting to burn.

“Holy shit!” Undyne cackled, “Is this how you flirt, dude?!”

“LET ME SEE!”

The weight of Papyrus was lifted off his back. The weight of his sins remained.

“That’s a lot of dick jokes,” Alphys observed.

“SANS! THIS IS NO WAY TO GAIN THE AFFECTIONS OF A POSSIBLE DATING PARTNER!” Papyrus snatched the phone from Undyne. To Sans’s horror, he began to type something. “I AM GOING TO WOO THEM WITH A PROFESSION OF MY BROTHER’S LOVE. THEY WILL SURELY SWOON AT HIS WORDS THAT I AM WRITING.”

“You’re doing it wrong, punk!” Undyne swiped the phone back and started typing something else. “It needs more fire, more passion!”

“A-actually, you should say something like this.” Alphys gently guided the phone from Undyne’s hand and started writing yet another something else.

The three became caught in a loop, passing the phone amongst each other, backspacing, rewriting, proofreading, then back to rewriting. Throughout their squabble, Sans had gotten up, honestly perfectly content to leave them to it, walk to his bed, and pretend it was all just a bad dream. He could do damage control when he sees you tomorrow. That is, if you would even want to see him again after the surely horrifying amalgamation of words slingshotted through the invisible current of radio waves and arrived on your screen. Maybe fate would be kind to him and a stray solar flare would whip through the stratosphere and burn the world to a crisp first – or, at least knockout cell service.

As he turned to leave, however, Sans noticed that the arguing and clacking of bones and claws on glass had stopped with a sharp ding. He turned back around and sure enough, the three were staring silently at his phone. Papyrus looked surprised, glancing between the phone and Sans. Undyne’s eye had widened as she clutched the phone closely. Alphys was slack-jawed in awe.

Sans did not take the opportunity for granted. He swiped the phone back, now safely cradled in his hands, and he took a shortcut to the roof of the house before anyone could even react.

He heard the shouts from inside and subsequently ignored them. The air was warm, and the stars were shining in their full glory in the moonless night. Sans sighed in relief, then looked at his phone. Sure enough, there was a nausea-inducing mishmash of text covering the screen, and lucky for him, the send button had not yet been pressed. What caught his attention, though, was that there was a new message from you. Sans thanked his lucky stars that you had responded before you were subjected to the worst combination of words and syllables in the English language.

He read the message. He read it again. A third time.

You: So, “wiener” you gonna ask me out for real?

Sans smiled wide. His cheeks lit up with a soft blue glow.

Sans: ur sure feeling cocky. tmrw? ik a place w great burgers

You: It’s a date! :)

[emeraldserenade]

I love your writing and I have a request/question.

Do you think that Joaquin is the type to be competitive and pick up his gf to win a football (American) game against her?

What would that look like in your mind?

Dont forget to eat and drink water and to relax your shoulders!

Competitive ~ Joaquín Torres

synopsis: Joaquín gets too competitive

tw: fem!reader, none?, barely edited.

fic, ficlet, drabble, request

Hi!! Yes!! Joaquín would totally pick you up to win!!

➽──────────────❥

Joaquín and you were spending time on the beach with Sam, his sister, and his nephews. While AJ and Cass were building a sandcastle, you, Joaquín, Sam, and Sarah were playing football. Well, a football like game, it followed the main rules but there were some deviations.

It was you and Sarah against the boys and, somehow, you two were winning. You were running to catch the throw that Sarah made but when you got within Joaquín's reach, he scooped you up in his arms and threw you over his shoulder.

"Joaquín!" You laughed, kicking your feet slightly. The ball landed within your eyesight but no one was moving for it.

"Hey, foul on the play!" Sarah yelled. "This means we win," Sarah announced and you laughed at the grumble made by Sam. Sam and Sarah's voices faded out as they walked back to the towels and you were enjoying the view of Joaquín's ass from the position you were in.

"What did you pick me up for?" You questioned as you pushed on Joaquín's lower back to help stop the flow of blood to your brain.

"I panicked, thought you were going to win," Joaquín admitted and smiled as you laughed and he put you down.

"You got so competitive and the only way you could think of winning was to pick me up?"

"Not my finest moment," Joaquín said but you laughed and hugged him, his skin warmed by the sun.

"It's ok, it was fun," you smiled, pressing a kiss to his lips.

➽──────────────❥

Masterlist | Requests If you want to be added to the tag list, follow the directions on my masterlist

[wolfstarmicrofic]

Prompt: Sandcastle

@wolfstarmicrofic - 66 words

Remus liked to watch Harry build sandcastles on the first day of their beach holidays, but after a while it dawned to him that Sirius looked at the whole matter in confusion. “Didn't you ever do that as a kid? I thought the Blacks had a summer house nearby?”

Sirius nodded with a mirthless laugh. “And you think we were allowed to get dirty like that?”

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Beach Day | Cassian x Reader

Summary: During a lengthy visit to Day Court with the Inner Circle, so Rhys and Feyre can discuss political matters with Helion, you and the Inner Circle find more entertaining things to do, such as have a beach day.

Word Count: ~1k

Warnings: None! Other than cass slamming his toes into rocks

A/N: Another little fluffy drabble for @cassianappreciationweek , hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

There were few days when Cassian was able to simply lay back and relax, but luckily today, it was one of them.

Rhys and Feyre were busy in Day Court with Helion, and so naturally, most if not all of his Inner Circle was dragged along, especially Cassian and Azriel. Whenever they’d arrived, Helion had only given the two a wink as he’d led the High Lord and Lady of Night Court into his personal office, declaring that it would be a “Private conversation.”

Azriel had bristled at that, but with a lazy grin and a hand on his shoulder, Cassian had gently led him away and out of their palace. If there was one thing Day Court was notorious for along with Dawn Court, it was the beaches on their shores. Velaris didn’t have such beaches in general, only the rocky shores that lined Night Court.

“C’mon Az, if we’re gonna be stuck here waiting for Rhys, we might as well enjoy it.”

Cassian said, giving his brother a pleasing look. Azriel only sighed, shadows wielding, excited at the prospect of swimming, as it wasn’t something they often did.

“Fine. Go swim with the rest of them.”

He grumbled, but before he could object, Cassian grinned and picked Azriel up, already bounding down the streets of Day Court (getting many weird looks from the locals on the way) to the little nearly vacant home Helion had provided for Rhys and the rest of your menagerie while they were here.

As he opened the door, finally setting Az down and giving him a look that said “Go get your swimsuit, or else.”, he was greeted by a distanced hug from you, his mate. He could already tell that you were overheating, too used to the constant soothing breeze and persisting chill of Velaris.

“We’re going swimming!”

He announced loudly enough for everyone to hear, including Mor and Amren who were lounging on the couch, fanning themselves with whatever was in hand. They gave exasperated groans.

“It’s hotter than hell out there, Cass.”

Mor complained, looking miserable.

“Yeah, well the water’ll cool you off, I’m sure.”

He said, rolling his eyes as he followed you to the bedroom that you two had claimed as your own, and he yanked his leathers off, his undergarments as well as he slid into a pair of shorts that were mostly water resistant and suitable for swimming. You had already changed into your swimsuit of choice, a bikini in the same shade of red as his siphons, one that would no doubt drive him crazy.

When they all got done changing, Azriel’s cheeks a light pink from the pink trunks Cassian had made him wear, being the only thing he had to swim in, everyone made Cassian carry their towels, and donned some sort of sandals as they walked outside into the suffocating heat of the summer sun, quickly walking down to the beaches of Day Court, and quickly wading into the water.

They only had a respite for the briefest of moments before Cassian splashed Azriel, and Azriel splashed back harder, accidentally getting you as well, until you were all splashing and thrashing like maniacs in the cool water. Mor and Amren didn’t seem to care much for the playing, both getting inflatables out of nowhere (and judging by the sounds of confused beachgoers, probably stole them) and floating on them, occasionally taking a dip in the water to cool off.

“I bet I can make a better sandcastle than you.”

Cassian declared to you, and you grinned ferociously back, both storming up to the beach to make the best sandcastle.

However, you already knew how Cassian played, so you made sure to include a layer of rocks in the bottom of yours covered by sand, and if anyone tried to kick it, their toes would meet jagged rock edges. You began building up layers, adding dry sand, then water, then compacting it, then wet sand, and then starting over again in a cycle.

Once your little cylinder-like shape was built up, you used seashells nearby to decorate the side, and tying some random part of a nearby plastic bag onto a thin, long stick, you made a tiny flag of trash and stuck it in the middle of your sandcastle on the very top.

You glanced over at Cassian’s sandcastle, it was more oval-shaped than anything, like a sad attempt at recreating a football, and it had some random shells strewn about on it.

“Done!”

He exclaimed, glancing over at yours as his grin turned to a playful scowl.

“Try-hard,”

He muttered under his breath, and you rolled your eyes, looking over at Azriel who was just standing in the water, watching, not seeming sure what to do. You beckoned him over.

“Come judge our sandcastles, Az!”

You called out, and he met your gaze, his own shining with amusement as he strode up and started examining your mate’s castle.

“Is the oval shape intentional?”

He asked in a dryly amused tone, and Cassian shot him a glare.

“Yes, it was.”

He said defensively, chest puffing out as you snorted, and Mor did too as she watched from the water. Azriel then moved to look at your sandcastle, observing it for all of two seconds before declaring his decision.

“Y/N won.”

He said, shaking his head in fond exasperation as he turned to move back into the water that shielded him from the harsh sun. That was when Cassian grumbled something under his breath, stomping over to your sandcastle even as you began following Az to the water.

You nudged Azriel with your elbow, both of you turning just in time to see Cassian’s foot go back and slam right into the rock base of your sandcastle as he howled and held his foot, glaring at you with a glimmer of begrudging respect for you somehow knowing what he was going to do.

Az quietly chuckled, even as Cassian huffed and hopped over to you on one foot, entering the water again.

“You’re going to pay for that once we get home,”

He murmured to you, and you only gave a lazy, sly smirk back.

“Worth it.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Called to Duty 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, abandonment, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Summary: You struggle to move on from the biggest mistake of your life but find it hard to forget among the whispers of a small town.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You shift on your feet. Your arches kill and your hips feel like they're splitting apart. For all you know, they are. Every day is a new fun side effect. 

You lean on the counter, standing vigil at the customer service till. Unlike the pharmacists and their assistants in the back, you don't get a chair. You refuse to complain, you know it would only add venom to their gossip. Even here, you're not safe from the whispers. 

The break room is a nest of snakes. You learned that one day as you walked in on a conversation that couldn't stop soon enough. You know they talk about you, there really isn't much else to do around Hammer Ford. Even if it's only borne of boredom, their words still hurt. 

The pharmacy is quiet but for the fuzzy noise of the overhead speakers playing outdated songs on repeat. You reach to rub your lower back. You’re not that big. Not as big as you will be but you don’t know how much longer you can stand in the same spot for eight hours. 

You stare at the till, the blue border on the screen blazing into your vision. You can’t help but drift into you even less glorious future. This won’t change. You’ll be stuck here, working hour after hour, only you’ll be poorer and more tired. You’ll have a whole other person to take care of and look how you’ve done just taking care of yourself. 

Your chest rents and you let out the breath trapped beneath your dread. Something clacks onto the counter and shakes you back to reality. You face, the customer, your vision slowly narrowing back to focus. 

You glance at sigh then down at the bottle on the counter. He has one of the novelty stuffed rabbits in his hand and a jar of cream. He puts those down too and you squint at them curiously. You take the bottle of vitamins and wave them towards the scanner. 

“I read you should take iron and folic acid. Those have both,” he says, “you also should be sitting down.” 

“What?” You frown, the bottle still in your hand, and stare at him. 

“This cream should help with the dry skin. The book said as you grow, you’ll get itchy--” 

“What are you talking about?” You put the bottle down and cross your arms. 

“Do you have a belly belt?” 

“Sy,” you say his name firmly, “are you... are you trying to give this to me?” 

He huffs and pulls out his wallet, “you need it.” 

“How do you know I don’t have it already?” You ask, thoughts scrambling at his kind, thought it edges along presumptuousness. 

“Do you? What do you need then? Stuff for the nursery?” His eyes roll upward, “not much room up there for a baby.” 

You want to shrink into nothing. You straighten your arms and grip the edge of the counter, “I know. Sy, this is a nice gesture but... I barely know you. It's too much. Not your responsibility.” 

“Mm, and where’s the man who should be taking responsibility?” He reaches to pluck up a chocolate bare from shelf on the other side of the till. He drops it on the counter, “you got cravings too?” 

You shake your head. Ugh, you hate how quickly your hormones have your heart racing and your eyes misty. It’s so nice of him despite being completely off putting. No one else, not even your own mother, even tried to help you. 

“How are you feeling?” He asks, “sore? Tired? You got morning sickness?” 

“Sy, please,” you raise a hand and set your tone, “really, I can’t... I can’t. Okay, it’s not... it’s not right.” 

“Isn’t. He should be here--” 

“Please,” you pull the stuff towards you, “I’ll put all this back on the shelf and you can just go--” 

“I got money,” he slips his thumb into his wallet, “I wanna buy it.” 

You blink at him. Daye, the manager, watches from down aisle. She looks less than impressed. Shoot. 

“Okay, do you want a bag?” You ask as you ring in the items. 

“Be easier for you to carry,” he says as he offers a hundred dollar bill, “not too heavy.” 

You cringe and take it, stretching it out and checking with the marker. All larger bills have to be throughout vetted. You put it in the drawer and count his change and hold it out to him. 

“That’s for dinner. Get some protein--” 

“No, take it,” you insist, “what are you doing?” 

His forehead lines and he looks back and forth, “what he should be doing.” 

He doesn’t take the money so you put in on the counter. You unfold a paper bag and put the items inside and push it towards him. Your skin is hot with embarrassment. Worse than any judgment is pity. Does he think some vitamins and stuffed bunny is going to solve your issues? 

“I want you to take it and go please,” you say quietly as you notice another customer coming towards the counter.  

It’s old Ed Parriser; his wife, Ginny, is in line with the town gossip, Lynette. He has a bottle of advil and heartburn medicine. You wonder if those are symptoms of his marriage. 

“There you are,” you shove the receipt in the top of his bag, “I need to help the next customer.” 

He lingers then reluctantly grabs the bag, crumpling the top in his large hand. He gather up the money and closes it in his fist. Reluctantly, he backs away, looming just at the end of the counter as Ed puts down his haul. 

“Hello, sir, how are you today?” You ask. 

“Eh, I’m doin’ okay,” he answers in his wheezy way, “ha,” he scoffs as he watches you scan, “I thought Ginny was tellin’ one of her stories again.” 

“Oh yeah?” You look up curiously, putting on a sunny smile, “what did she say?” 

“Said you got yourself knocked up like a floozy,” he chortles, “maybe I’ll just start listening to her--” 

Ed grunts as suddenly he’s grabbed by the collar of his plaid shirt. Sy has him in a death grip knuckles rolled into the flannel as he snarls down at the man, “keep talking and you’ll need those pills. I’ll split your fucking head open.” 

You stand, dumbfounded by his surge of anger and his threat. He’d only ever been soft spoken, even if he was huge, but he’s rabid like a wolf in that moment. Ed smacks his forearm and wriggles. 

“Let go of me, you lump--” 

“Sir, excuse me,” Daye’s smoker’s creak rises from her throat, “is there a problem? Do I need to call the sheriff?” 

Sy puffs through his nose, chest rising and falling as you watch him weighing his options. He wants to keep going. His blue eyes flick over to you and he lets go, raising his hands. 

“Nothing,” he grits out. 

“That’s right, nothin’,” Ed rubs his neck with a cough, “he just protecting this--” 

“Keep going,” Sy’s rolls dangerously low as he towers over him. The old man snaps his mouth shut so his jowls tremor. He looks at you then Daye. 

“Know what,” Ed clears his throat, “I think Ginny was here yesterday. I don’t need all this.” 

As Daye nears, the old man hobbles around Sy’s fuming form. The larger man sneers at the manager as she nears, her phone in hand. He points it at him, “leave. Now.” 

He sends you one last look, his cheek ticking. He spins on his heel and marches out. You bite your lip and look down at the two bottles in front of you. You grab them and gulp. 

“I’ll just put these back,” you offer. 

“You keep your drama out of this store,” Daye warns, “or I’ll talk to Willard.” 

You sniff at her threat. Willard gave you a good deal on the upstairs apartment but people weren’t happy about. Even if the faucet is leaky and the fridge rattles. 

“It wasn’t--” 

“Keep it out,” she snaps and snatches the bottles from you, “if you can lean, you can clean.” 

[kamosaki]

Masterlist

��🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮

❤︎︎ - Fluff

★ - Smut

✿ - Suggestive

☁︎︎ -Angst

🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮

Jujutsu Kaisen

🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮

One Shots

Nanami Kento

Consequences ★

Ryomen Sukuna

Shadow ❤︎︎

Toji Fushiguro

Folded ★

Satoru Gojo

Seashells and Sandcastles ❤︎︎✿

Suguru Geto

Yours ★

Headcanons

Rockstar!Choso x Rockstar!Reader ❤︎︎★

Drabbles

Babysitting with Sukuna ❤︎︎

🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮

Attack on Titan

🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮

One Shots

Levi Ackerman

Same Moon ❤︎︎★

[peyton-warren]

Okay sorry last one!

Sy knows that you’ve been ignoring your health. (Brushing teeth, showering, eating properly, sleeping properly) but he’s been pleasing you every chance the two of you get.

Could be because you’re with him or you just have been busy, but you get a toothache and he takes you to the base dentist or a regular dentist. It’s something simple like just a stuck popcorn shell or something like that. Or maybe you pass out. Idk 🤷🏼‍♀️

He decides that if you want to cum again, you have to take better care of yourself. No grinding either. Every time you do, you suck him off while he teases you. Until you take better care of yourself. No orgasms

I might have taken this one a little off the track you set but we got back on it by the end. There is no smut there is a hell of suggestion at the end. I hope this is ok. And its a weeee bit longer than a drabble. Wrote this all by hand in the woods thanks for the prompt that resonated so much with me.

Characters: Gender Neutral reader, Captain Syverson Pairings: Sy x Reader Fandoms: Sandcastle, Henry Cavill characters Word count: 4111 Type: angst, suggestive Warning: 18+. Warnings: blood, Reader injured, discussion of domestic abuse, self depreciation, discussion of mental illness, daddy kink, potential eating disorder, tiny Daddy kink

Summary: Reader has to be taken to the hospital by their new-ish boyfriend Sy. Sy learns some things about his partner that has Reader worried about their future together.

Author's Note: I have no idea how a real ER works, nor proper medical procedures nor hospital policies.  I manipulated them for my own gain here.  Nor do I fully understand how blood sugars work or what the tests doctors use tell them about your eating habits.  Don't come after me if you know how they actually do work. Also thank you to @ellethespaceunicorn for the beta.

Ask Box: Open Masterlist

Banner by me with an assist by @ellethespaceunicorn Dividers by @cafekitsune

Dazed, you blinked your tired eyes open.  

“There they are,” Sy cooed softly, crouching next to you.  

You blinked again, trying

to focus.

He was next to you on his kitchen floor.  You stared up into the concerned blue eyes above you.

Oh right date night.  You two had been cooking dinner. 

“I didn't know you were afraid of blood,” he said with sincerity, no teasing or judgment in his tone.  

“I’m not,” you said defensively.  Then you realized the last thing you remembered was nicking your finger cutting up veggies and then nothing.  “What happened?” You asked.  

“You passed out,” he told you.  “I saw you waver out of the corner of my eye and caught you in time to keep you from hitting the deck,” he told you.  “How are you feeling?”

“Okay?”

“Just okay?  You think you can sit up?” He offered you a hand.  As you placed your palm in his, he carefully helped you into a sitting position, his other arm gently curving around your back, just in case.  “How’s that?” he asked, squeezing your hand.  

“Okay.  I think.”

“I don't like your uncertainty,” he admitted, softly, looking at you with a deeper concern.  “I’m calling an ambulance.”

“No!” you shook your head vehemently, hating to cause him or anyone even a hit of inconvenience.  “I’m fine.”

“You are not fine, sweetheart,” he told you.  “You look like you have seen a ghost.  You're trembling and your palm hasn't stopped bleeding. We are going to the ER,” he insisted.  “Even if I have to hog tie you and throw you in the back of the truck.”

“Sy, I’m fine,” you tried again.  

Sy moved from you only briefly to grab a kitchen towel that read “Mama Tried,” and returned promptly to press it to your palm which you just now noticed is covered in blood.  “I didn’t think I cut it that bad,” you admitted.  You were unable to assess the damage before it was covered in flour sack material.  

“You jabbed it in there pretty good just before you went down.”  Sy pulled his phone from his pocket.  “Now are you willingly coming with me to the hospital? Or am I calling the squad?”

You knew your stubborn asshole of a boyfriend wasn't going to back down until you were properly checked out.  After a beat, a silence, just a split second before you were certain he was going to open his phone, you relented.   “Alright.”

He placed a hurried kiss to your forehead as he stuffed his phone back in his pocket.  “Good.  Now put your other hand over the towel and I’ll get you to the truck.”

You scoffed at this.  “You are not carrying me to the truck,” you said.  “I’ll get myself out there.  Just get me off the damn floor.”

Sy chucked.  “There’s my sweetheart.  Hold the towel tight,” he insisted just before standing behind you and hooking his hands under your arm and effortlessly lifting you to your feet.  His hand held your upper arm tight as he rounded you and looked intently at your face.  “You al’ite?”

“I’m fine, Sy,” you ground out, done with being fussed over.  

With a single nod, he placed that hand to your lower back and gently guided you to the door. “Easy and gently,” he reminded you.  

“I’ll ‘easy and gently’ you.” You continued to be unhappy with his instance of treating you with such tender care.  You still were not used to dating a decent human being, unsure if you even deserved it.  If he knew how  you really were, maybe he’d throw you away, like all the other partners you had had over the years.

Sy, oblivious of your inner conflict, got you settled into the passenger seat and buckled you in.  “All set, baby?” 

You only nodded, still applying pressure to your cut palm.  He gave you a soft smile and carefully closed your door.  Took him all of two seconds before he was in the driver's seat and starting the engine.  “Let’s get you patched up.”

The drive to the local hospital was over within 20 minutes and was accomplished in silence.  You tried to ignore the new throb in your palm that appeared.  Sy had stopped you once from peeling back the towel by laying his hand over yours.  “You don't wanna do that.”

“I wanna see.”

“No you don’t.  Firstly it'll start bleeding again once you release the pressure,” he used his Captain voice, you knew his military training had kicked in.  “Secondly, I don't need you passing out again when you see it.”

You all but huffed at him.  “I am NOT afraid of blood.”

“You may not be, but you aren't gonna like the looks of that.”

You relented and gave a dramatic sigh.  “Aye, aye, Captain,” you said dryly.

Once you arrived at the hospital, and got through the headache of checking in, the two of you settled in the waiting room. Sy took your injured hand and put it on his thigh, taking over putting pressure on the injury.  You sat in further silence until a nurse called your name, less than 30 minutes later.  Sy kissed your temple and let you take your own hand back.  You both stand and head for the nurse who eyes you 6’4” shadow with suspicion.   “Just them,” the nurse states in a no nonsense voice.

“It's ok,” you reassure her.  “He’s with me.”

“Is he your emergency contact and/or spouse?” she asks you, and your stomach dropped at the thought of going in without Sy.  

“No,” you say in a small voice. 

“But ma’am-”

“Do not,” she cut Sy off.  “Policy is policy.  I don't make it,” she sternly stated.

“You are just the enforcer,” Sy finished for her in a very knowing voice.  

“You got it,” she beamed at him. “Have a seat.  They'll be out as soon as they’re done.”

You gave him a soft smile over your shoulder and mouthed ‘Sorry.’  He kissed your forehead.  “You’re in good hands,” he tried to sound calm for you.  You nodded and followed the scrubbed nurse into the ER.  The door closed behind you with a soft click, signaling it locked.  The nurse led you to a room, flipping the plastic flags over the door to whatever she needs to as you step in.  

“Have a seat on the bed,” she said in a softer tone than she had with Sy.  As she halfway pulled the curtain closed, you settled with your back on the upright position of the gurney.  She clicked at the computer near the bed.  “Laceration on your non-dominant palm.  How did it happen?” she asked, nodding to your hand as she reached for gloves from the rack on the wall. 

“Slipped while cooking dinner,” you offered, leaving out the part where you passed out.  

She eyed you before placing a hand on your wrist.  “Let me take a look.”  

You relinquished the towel which you now realize had a significant amount of blood on it. “Oh geez, I hope he can get that out.”

The nurse’s eyes flit back to your face.  “Who is he?” she conversationally asked.  

“My boyfriend,” you said almost shyly.  This thing between you was still new and fresh, only a few months old.  You were still getting used to using the title for Sy.  

“You live together?” she asked as she put the makeshift bandage back down.  “Hold that again please.”   

You do as you are told.  “No, only been together a few months.” you affirmed.  

She nodded and stripped the gloves from her hands, dropping them into the biohazard trash before turning back to the computer “You are gonna need stitches,” she told you, “but first the doc has to come see you to confirm.”

“Yeah kinda figured that was why my army boyfriend brought me in.  If he coulda handled it himself we wouldn't be here,”  you guessed.  

The nurse pulled a wheelie stool over and sat down near your bedside and looked at you compassionately but no nonsense.  “He the reason you are here?” she asked.  

“Well yeah, he insisted-” 

She shook her head, interrupting you.  “No sweety,” she tried again.  Her name tag/badge read Joy you noticed.  “Are you safe with him?”

Your eyes widened at her meaning. “Yes!” you stumbled over the word, surprised someone would think you are not safe with Sy.  “Absolutely,” you insisted.  “He’d never hurt anyone he cared about much less me,” you defended him further.  

“You have to know how this looks,” the nurse stated.  And you finally put all the pieces together.  “Especially with him being active duty,” she pointed out.  You had heard the rumors that military men were statistically more likely to be the aggressor in domestic violence situations. 

“Not him,” you asserted, trying to think of another way to convince her she had it all wrong.  

Instead she reached out and squeezed your knee.  “It's ok.  I have to ask.  Just a couple more questions and then I'll go get the doctor.”  

You relaxed into the mattress.  “Okay.”

“Do you want your boyfriend back here with you?  I can continue to tell him its policy to keep him out in the waiting room.”

You almost started panicking again at the thoughts that anyone would think anything but the best of Sy.  “No, I want him here please, if I can.”

“Of course you can, especially if he will help you stay calm.” She took a deep breath, holding it for a beat and then releasing it, which you mirrored.  “Will his presence keep you at ease?” Her eyes stared at yours, watching your reaction closely.  

You took another deep breath and nodded.  “Yes please.”  

“Ok sweetie.  If you change your mind, tell me or the doctor you’d like to see ‘Dr. Strong’ and we will get security to remove him from here, okay?”

“I won’t need that,” you assured her.,  “But I’m glad you have that in place for other people to use.  “

She gave you a sad smile. “Unfortunately it's all too common of a situation for us.”  She put her hand on the door handle.  “What’s the boyfriend’s last name?”   

You gave it to her and she nodded.  “I'll go get him now and the Doctor will be with you as soon as he can.”

“Thank you.”

And she was gone.

And you were left alone with your thoughts for a few minutes.  You had never thought so much of as an ill thought about Sy outside of  how obnoxious his snoring was when he’s been drinking and now you felt like you hit the jackpot with Sy.  But also, it felt a bit early to be proclaiming declarations of love.  Sy didn’t seem like the type of man who would ever harm his partner but you had been fooled into thinking the best of others in your past and were proven ---

The door opened and saved you from continuing that thought.  Sy’s face appeared around the curtain with a concerned look as Nurse Joy peeked around him.  “Will be a bit til the doctor will be with you.  Keep holding that towel.”

Sy rounded the bed and sat on the stool the nurse abandoned.  “Thanks,” you said.  “For everything.”

“You are welcome.  Just doing my job.”

And she was gone again, the door closing behind her. “New friend?” Sy asked after that exchange.  

“Something like that,” you affirmed.  

“What’s the verdict?” he nodded towards your hand.  

“Needs stitches,” you stated nonchalantly.  

“And the passing out?” he prompted. 

 You hesitated.  “Oh, ummmm,”   

“You didn't mention that?” he surmised.

“No.”

“Of course not,” he sighed.

You stopped looking at your hands in your lap and flashed your eyes to him.  “What’s that mean?”

Sy just shook his head and laid his hand on your knees closest to him.  “I’ve just noticed you aren't very good at taking care of yourself is all.”  

You get defensive immediately, though this isn't the first time you have heard that from someone else who cared about you.  “I do just fine with that,” you asserted.   

“Then why didn't you mention that to the nurse?”

“Because that's not a big deal,” you attested. “Not as much as bleeding to death.”  You raised your injured hand to illustrate.  “I’m sorry about your towel.”

“I don't give one goddamn about a kitchen towel,” he stated but is interrupted by a knock on the door, drawing both of your attention.  Nurse Joy walked around the curtain with a man in a white coat.  

“Hello here’s Dr. Brock.” 

Sy’s hand squeezed your knee. 

“How are you today?” Dr. Brock asked.  

“Fine outside of trying to filet my palm.  Wait,” you suddenly say.  “I only remember nicking my finger.  When did I slice my palm?” you looked at Sy, and felt the attention of the medical personnel in the room shift to look at him as well.  

“You grabbed for the counter as you passed out,” he simply stated.  

“There was no mention of passing out,” Joy stated, and you realize you had just ratted yourself out.  

“Did you hit your head?” the doctor asked, springing into action to examine your eyes.  

“I don't think so,” you sounded unsure. 

“No they didn’t,” Sy joined the conversation. “I caught them on the way down.”  

Doctor turned half his attention to the attentive boyfriend beside you as he applied gentle pressure around your head.  “Were they out cold?”

“Yes”

“For how long?”  

“At least 3 minutes but it felt like a lifetime,” Sy disclosed.  

Doctor Brock nodded as Joy typed on the computer.  “Let’s get them a CT scan, a CBC panel to start,” he spoke to the nurse who clicked the mouse.  “And a stitch kit for their hand.”  He gave that the briefest of looks and a nod.  “Looks like the bleeding has stopped.  We can take care of that while we wait for radiation to come get them.”

He turned back to you.  “Afraid we are going to keep you from dinner for a bit longer,” he told you.

“It's ok,” you whispered. 

It took another hour, but you found yourself stitched , bandaged, scanned and short a few vials of blood.  You and Sy sat in the room, talking about which fast food to grab on your way back to his place when Dr. Brock and your new favorite nurse returned.  “We have the results from your scan and your blood work,” he told you as he sat down in front of the computer.  Sy’s hand gently squeezed your uninjured hand while the doctor logged in and pulled up your chart.  “Ok,” he paused as he read.  “Your CT scan came back normal.  Nothing unusual in your brain.”

“That's good.”

He nodded as he continued to look at his results.  “There’s a few things in your blood work I’d like to talk to you about.  Your glucose was concerningly down.” 

 “We were in the process of making dinner,” Sy tried.  

“No it was more than just one missed meal,” the doctor told him.

You avoid looking at Sy out of guilt.  ”I may have missed a few meals today.”

“There's only three to miss,” Sy sounded upset, and your stomach flipped.  “How many did you miss?”

“All of them...?” you stated uncertain, again. 

“And the past few days?” the doctor asked.  

You shrugged and looked sheepishly at him.  “A few...”

“Your blood work says more than ‘a few’,” he said sternly but gently.  “And your urinalysis says you are severely dehydrated.” He looked at you.  “How much water do you have every day?”

“Water?” you lamely asked 

“Yes, plain water.  Maybe with some lemon or bubbles in it, but just water?”

“Not much.  I’m more of a coffee kind of girl,” you tried to tell him, aiming for a joke but it falling flat on your audience.

“I’m going to need you to up your intake of water by a lot.”

“For how long?”

“For always,” he looked at you.  “Human bodies need water to survive.” he glanced quickly at the screen before turning back to you.  “How has your depression and anxiety been lately?”  

Well shit.  You looked guiltily at Sy again before answering.  “It's been better.”

“On a scale of 1-5,  l one being the lowest you’ve been and 5 being the best feeling ever, where have you been lately?

Another sideways glance at Sy before answering.  “A 0.5?”

“I see,” the doctor said and typed a few things.  

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sy asked, sounding more than a little hurt.

The shrug you give him does nothing to remove the look from his face.  

“What can I do for them, Doc?” he asked, his eyes never leaving your face.

You opened your mouth to protest but Dr. Brock beat you to it. “That’s up to them as to what they need. But open communication is a good start.”  That was directed at you.  “And reassuring them they are worth taking care of themselves.”  That was directed at Sy.

“I can handle that,” your boyfriend stated.  

“Glad to hear it.  Nurse Joy will get you your instructions and get you checked out.  You can have your GP pull the stitches in 14 days.  And go over your mental health needs with them too, please.”

You just nodded.  

“Take care of each other.”  And he was gone out the door.  

The ride home was as silent as the ride to the ER but for different reasons.  You felt the anger rolling off Sy.  You were ashamed at having your mental health issues revealed to him in such a manner.  This relationship was still too new and now you were afraid he was going to ditch you and run for the hills.

“You can just drop me at my car in your driveway and I’ll head home,” you surmised you had fully ruined your date night if not your whole relationship.

“What?” Sy sounded confused.  “No.” He pulled his eyes from the road for a second to look at you.  If you weren't wrong, he looked hurt again.  “We are grabbing dinner and then we are gonna talk about what is going on in that beautiful head of yours.”

“Look if you wanna break up with me-”

“What kind of assholes have you dated, sweetheart?” he asked angrily and your mouth audibly snapped shut followed by a soft sniffle.  He DID think you were an idiot and he was going to ditch you tonight.  You knew it.  Trouble was he held you hostage until he returned you to your car.  And the sound of your next sniffle, Sy hit his blinker and pulled the truck into the first parking lot on his right,parking his truck across 4 spots before turning in his seat to look at you, his hand landing on your forearm. “Please talk to me,” he softly said.  “Whatever it is, I'm here.”

“You hate me,” you asserted.   “I’m a horrible person.  And now you know the truth about me.”

Sy’s hand flew up to the ceiling of the truck and flipped the light on and watched you wiped at your tears.  “Did I say any of that?” he asked. “Ever.”  

You shook your head.  “No but you probably are thinking about it now that you know.”

“Know what? That you have a mental illness that makes your life hard to navigate?”

“Yeah.” you sniffled. 

“For fuck’s sake, darlin’, do you know how many of my men have mental illnesses, both diagnosed and not?  And I trust them literally with my life,” Sy tried again, agitation just on the edge of his voice.  He took a breath and tried another time.  “Sweetness, whatever you have going on , I ain't lying when I tell you I’m here for you, for all of it.:”

“But-”

“No buts, gorgeous, you aren't getting rid of me that easily,” he insisted, giving you a small smile, which you did not return.  “Unless you want me to go.  I hope you don't.  You seemed like you were enjoying our evening tonight before your swan dive.” You smiled at that.  “But if you want out, let's talk about that and I’ll try to convince you to stay so I can fix whatever it is you don't like but I do not want out.  I make that call, not you,” he asserted gently.  

You sat in stunned silence for a moment.  All your standard cookie cutter responses to try to convince someone you were a horrible person died on your tongue, leaving you with nothing to say.  

At another beat of silence, Sy grabbed his phone from the center console.  “Do you want pizza or tacos for dinner?”

~~~~~~~~~

Once you were safely at his house with your dinner, Sy left you at the kitchen table as he took an exuberant Aika outside to potty and chase a ball around for a few minutes.  By the time he returned, you had set the table and were in the process of cleaning up the mess you had left on his floor, on his counter, your blood mixed with food that had been left out too long.  

Sy dramatically sighed when he found you trying to one handedly clean everything up.  “Will you stop before you hurt yourself further?”  You looked at him sheepishly.  “But thank you,” he tried instead.  “Thank you for setting the table.”  He took your good hand and escorted you to the table set with two plates, two glasses of water and the only candle you could find in his house and you were fairly certain it was a gift from his mom or sister.  He pulled your chair out for you and you rolled your eyes as you sat down, but you sat down.  “Good baby,” he mumbled into the crown of your head.  “One slice or two?” he asked, chivalrously opening the box for you to see the options available as if you weren’t in the truck when he ordered your usual pizza.  

“You are a dork,” you informed him. 

“Yes, but I am your dork,” he told you, pulling two pieces to put on your plate.  “Since you didn’t eat at all today, you get two.  And you have to eat them all, even the crusts.  And drink all your water too,” he informed you. 

You made a face at him but nodded, agreeing to those terms.  “Okay, Daddy,” you teasingly mutter as you pull a stringy bit of cheese and pop it in your mouth.  

Sy growled low in his throat, a noise you only heard when you did something he liked in the bedroom and you felt your belly heat at finding a new kind of his and one you didn't object to.  You smirked at him as he sat down, your focus now on his darkening eyes. “You wanna play with Daddy, little one?” he menacingly asked you.  You nodded enthusiastically, your ravenous hunger shifting from the pizza to the man in front of you.  

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes, Daddy.” you started to rise from the table to move towards him.  

“Sit your pretty ass down,” he commanded without raising his voice.  You felt yourself grow hotter at his tone, immediately and unthinkingly settling back into your spot.  “You will eat everything on your plate, or you will not leave this table, am I clear?”   Normally you would balk at such a statement but now you just nodded.   “I need words, little one.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good baby,” he commended.  “You will also drink everything in your glass, do you understand?”  You lost focus, you wondered if this is the tone he took with his men and if so did any of them get turned on as you were right now.  “Hello, pretty baby?” Sy’s voice broke through your wandering thoughts.  

“Yes Daddy, I mean Sir.  I mean Daddy,” you stuttered, unsure what title to use, both seeming fitting at this moment. 

“I see that attention is a problem for you.  So let me try a different approach,” he asserted.  “If you have everything on your plate, drink all the water I give you and take your daily meds if you haven't yet,” he raised a questioning eyebrow at you, knowing you usually packed your medications with you when you came over for date night.  “You can cum tonight.  If you don’t do those things, all you’ll get to do is help me cum, am I clear?”

You swallowed loudly, knowing he was not at all joking in her terms.  “Yes, Daddy.”  And you took a big bite of cooling pizza.

“Good baby.”

General Tag List: @ellethespaceunicorn @littleone65, @mysweetlittledesire, @jvanilly, @identity2212,

@avengersfan25, @foxyjwls007 @gummydummy19 , @cynic-spirit , @rosecentury

HC Tag LIst: @m07belzen, @used-to-be-bourbonwithice, @hawklin, @geralts-yenn @summersong69,

@sillyrabbit81 @mistressmkay

Syverson tag list: @mrsevans90 @wunder-blunder

Please let me know if you want to be added to (or removed from) any of them. AND Just cuz I think you'll be interested in seeing it I am gonna tag @deandoesthingstome

[hotchfiles]

we've got no worries in the world,

aaron hotchner x gn!reader

drabble // 357 words // angst // cw: breakup fic basically, but it's more bittersweet.

It’s too cold and too late to be doing this, his hands find little warmth inside the pockets of his coat but at least his heart finds some peace when he spots you barely swinging in the playground, clearly not made to fit you.

That’s the place he met you months before, tears streaming down your face as Jack delightfully built sandcastles in the sandbox. He didn’t want to intrude and Aaron isn’t usually inconvenient, but as bad as it could sound, he felt too bad seeing someone so beautiful crying alone. He sat by your side and you two talked, he even made you laugh (he took pride in that).

He wouldn’t be able to make you laugh tonight, he was sure of it before he even sat at the known swing, his legs and arms squished and uncomfortable, but not much worse than what Aaron knew was about to come.

It’s what always comes after some time, and he tries, he tries to be present and to come home earlier and to charge his phone to reply to your texts, and he knows, he knows how much it hurts you because you understand, you do, the job is too important, it comes first in action even if it doesn’t in his heart.

It hurts him too, because he loves you and he feels carefree with you, weightless, happy. But none of that matters if soon enough he’ll forget an important dinner, or he will be four states away when you get promoted.

And you’ll be here, alone at night, crying in the playground he met you at.

“Thought I would find you here.” He finally breaks the silence and you smile. To be loved is to be known, too bad sometimes that isn’t enough.

“Things feel less real here, less…” Huge. Impactful. Life changing. You don’t have to finish your sentence, Aaron knows all about that already.

“We can just be here for a while then, before…” Before it’s over, before it ends. You nod, a loud sniff escapes you and he pulls you closer by the swing’s chains, side hugging you awkwardly but lovingly.

[eliteseven]

Your angsty Serena/Shadowheart drabbles always gets me in my cry corner 😭. Even though we know they get together eventually, the beginning of Act II to the Gauntlet just hurts seeing Shadowheart distance herself from Tav and rejecting her love. I just wanna give Serena a hug during those times cuz the feeling of rejection just sux 😢.

Need fluffy HCs of Shadowheart making it up to Tav for those heartbreaking moments from Act II.

You’ve made Serena an amazing character in this series. Love her so much and deserves the best too!

🥺 🥰 awww I’m so sorry!! And so so flattered!! thank you so much, it means the world that you’ve enjoyed Serena’s story and her character! I’ve enjoyed watching her take shape through the drabbles, asks, etc. she could use a big hug tho lmao 😅 I think it eventually makes all the fluff that much sweeter!

It’s been SO long since I’ve had a HC request! 🥹 here’s my take on Shadowheart making it up to Tav down the line:

You know that line silver Shadowheart has where she says she wants to care for the animals, so long as they appreciate a “warm fire and more affection than they know what to do with”?

I feel like that’s her life policy with everything, after Shar. She just LOVES. She wants to give Tav more affection than she knows what to do with.

That’s her form of apology to Tav. Just absolutely loving on her unabashedly, now that she’s free to. I know Sharran Shadowheart likes her space and needs her privacy, but I feel like silverheart is kinda glued to Tav’s side. No more secrets, no more lies. She doesn’t need a refuge from Tav or the cottage- it is her refuge 😍

-Shadowheart is a CUDDLER. A siphon of Serena’s body heat. She likes to wind herself around Serena like a twisting vine and then invite as many of the animals onto the bed as she can fit. There is not a centimeter of space between them. She burrows into Tav and doesn’t let go. She has a child-like sense of wonder and joy about the world and affection in general, since leaving the cloister. So many lost touches and kisses with Tav to make up for.

-On the subject of bed- Shadowheart also enjoys always waking Serena with kisses, if she’s up first. All the times she would scoff at Serena’s dumb pillow talk??? She is obsessed with it now. Best part of her day. She loves listening to her doze off and muttering how she couldn’t figure out how the chickens have been escaping the coop for the life of her. She spent so much of act 1 and 2 convincing herself she didn’t want any of this domesticity and now she LIVES for it.

-Shadowheart going out of her way to have Emmeline teach her one of Tav’s favorite recipes from childhood??? 🥺 offering her an absolutely burnt and wrecked abomination the first time and Serena eating every bite bc her WIFE made that for her?!? 

-verbal confirmation of love is kinda huge to them both, especially Shadowheart. She wants to say it. All the time. Shar used to lash out every single time she’d think it. Now, every other word out of her lips is “I love you” and “hello, lover” and “my love” 🥹🥰 Serena MELTS every. Single. Time.

-PDA. I STRONGLY believe Shads wants to make up for lost time. Her relationships haven’t ever been real, aside from Nocturne, and even that was shrouded in secrecy. She hangs off Serena’s arm as they stroll markets together, she naps in Serena’s lap out in the fields. She’s so proud of being with Tav. She will steal kisses, pinch her ass, and just generally be handsy as she pleases. She will kiss Serena’s neck and whisper all the naughty (and sweet) things she’d like to do to her. What better apology for her past coldness than simply grabbing Serena and kissing her breathless at any given moment? Her intimacy was quite literally weaponized at some point. She’s finally free to love.

-Goes without saying but their sex life is probably wildddd at least at first, bc of all the pent up energy between them. Their first time “building Sandcastles” opens a floodgate of desire lmao. Shadowheart is c o n s t a n t l y yanking Serena away for some relief. She is insatiable. Even when they have the Hallowleafs in camp, much to Serena’s horror. But she has never once complained abt it and never ever will 😅 when Shadowheart yanks you by your shirt collar, you come, no questions asked. She often emerges from Shads’ tent just COVERED in kiss marks, looking very dazed but happy.

-Shadowheart def makes it up to Tav by attending patriar events with her and helping her feel confident in their presence again. She’s Tav’s good luck charm. She makes her feel invincible. She can sense Serena’s apprehension and just puts that charm to work. She doesn’t let anyone get a dig in- she’s vicious about her wife. I think it’s her way of being there for Serena as Serena was there for her during the gauntlet.

-She’s at Serena’s side when they visit her old estate, she’s with her when they visit her father’s grave site. She strives to be Tav’s person, just as Tav was there for her without question. She constantly builds Serena up- she knows what her father did to her, and I think she’s just SO protective of her.

-Shadowheart gives Tav a family and a home. Yes, Baby Jen eventually, but before that: Tav is a Hallowleaf 🥰 Shadowheart is still new to her own parents, but she insists that Tav is as much a part of their mending little family. She’s the one who envisioned the cottage, the animals, a place for them all to stay- she invited Serena into her bucolic fantasy of a life. She’s the catalyst. If Karlach and Tav went to Avernus together, she set it all up HERSELF, and awaited Tav’s return! She kept all of Tav’s things and laid out their room with her in mind 🥹

[maehemthemisfit]

mermaid! scaramouche splashing water in your face with his tail, causing you to become soaked. he would laugh and wave you off, though not before peering through his half-lidded eyes to see your expression. he’s been the most interesting mer-person by far.

he says he doesn’t like to sing but does it so well. he hates eating fish but knows a lot about which one is better for grilling. he says human treasure is worthless, yet he always finds himself being drawn to inazuman clothes and accessories washed ashore. he says he doesn’t get sunburnt but demands that you set up an umbrella for him.

truly the most annoying of his kind, but he owns it.

- 🐚

THE UMBRELLA PART IS KILLING MEEE HE'S SO SPOILED 😭

The most high maintenance and tedious mermaid to work with honestly. You don't know why you keep coming back, just to practically be in his servitude. He expects you to cook every fish he brings you for him to eat, and it has to be seasoned and grilled perfectly, otherwise he'll complain for ages and claim that you're trying to poison him (He still eats it all tho). You're too enamored by him to leave, your curiosity always bringing you back to his shore. He's always cranky though if you've been away for a long time.

He's the type to throw fish or crabs at passersby to keep them away from your meeting spot. Sometimes, he spits a stream of water at children and swims away just as they bring their parents, pointing at the water to say that they saw a person, just for their parents to drag them away and tell them to stop making up stories while he's happily giggling underwater.

When you're bored, you make sandcastles together, and he's always the ruler of whatever kingdom you make. He pretends that all the sand dwellers/critters are his subjects and sometimes (tries) to hold public executions for any he deemed defy them (they were running away) just for you to stop him before he chops a poor crab and ask you to cook it.

And as much as he doesn't care for treasures as he claims, he still goes digging around the ocean floor, excavating treasures from the ocean and from lost human possessions to lazily gift them to you, claiming he found them laying around and thought you'd appreciate the 'junk' or whatever humans called it. He loved seeing your face light up at the things he brings, but he'll never admit it.

He doesn't usually engage in your conversation about your day, but you find that he tokens every little like and dislike you happen to mention and keeps it in the back of his mind for later, sometimes using it to pick out better gifts. He plays coy (lol) whenever you ask him about it though!

.° ୭ ៳ Genshin Drabble Masterlist・✩

[daetko]

hiii talia!!! so much cheers and congrats on 200!!

for ur celly can i pleasee req dabi for this one ? HEHE THANK U!!

CASTLE ARCHITECTS ; send me a character and i’ll write a fluff drabble about building sandcastles together!

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⛱️ castle architects ; touya todoroki

⊱ cw ; gn reader ( no pronouns mentioned), fluff, drabble so a bit short!

⊱ a/n ; RUEEEEE HIII THANK U SO MUCH!!! of course anything for u!!! had so much fun writing this ❗️❗️ made it more like a trip with the whole family but spending time with touya alone,,, i feel like its way too cute like this! let me know if you’d like any changes !

⊱ masterlist , event navigation

“touya!” you shout, laughing despite your frustration as he smirks, having knocked over yet another tower of your sandcastle. he shrugs with feigned innocence, like he’s an angel with a halo above his head. “what? I thought it needed a remodel.” you roll your eyes at him, “i’m going to remodel that brain of yours because it clearly doesn’t seem to be working best right now” he stuck his tongue out at your remark as you raised your brows and crossed your arms. “you either help rebuild or i’m calling natsou to help me instead.” he practically huffs like a baby at the mention of his brother, glancing over to where natsuo is “play fighting” with shoto, dunking his younger brother’s head in and out of the water amid a fit of laughter.

You nudge his leg, which is sprawled out with the sandcastle in the middle “close your legs and fix your posture before you get stuck looking like the letter C for the rest of your life touya” a grunt escapes him, making you roll your eyes. “such a baby you are.” “am I your baby?” he quips. you blinked. “not if you don’t rebuild the tower you just knocked off” “fineeeeeee… okay..” you can’t stay mad for long, though, especially when he scoots closer, finally deciding to help you rebuild. the two of you work together, his occasional sassy comments earning him a slap on the nape. when the sandcastle is finally done, you both stand up to admire it as you take pictures like a proud parent. your boyfriend glances to you and gives you the most sinister smile you believe a man can ever plaster on his face. you sigh, already knowing you won’t be able to say no as he took your hand in his and kicked the sandcastle down with you.

it was a fun day, to say the least—though the sand between your toes and all over your legs makes you question your conclusion.

I MESSED UP THE BORDERS forgive me….. 😓😓

[wastingmylifesecondatatime]

Morpheus Masterlist - One Shots/Drabbles

Updated: March 23rd, 2025 🔞 = mature Other masterlists: mother masterlist (2019-2024), mother masterlist (2025)

NEW ADDITIONS:

Kitty Comforts by @writethrough (added: March 23rd, 2025)

↳ "You’d been awfully quiet today."

Sandcastle by @aralezinspace (added: March 23rd, 2025)

↳ "Morpheus clenched his hands in his pockets."

Make It Last Forever by @just-some-random-blogger (added: March 23rd, 2025)

↳ "I wonder if you look both ways when you cross my mind."

Welcome to Moon Siren Horticulture! by @undiscovered-horizon (added: March 23rd, 2025)

↳ "Running a plant shop known among deities and occultists just can not be a simple job. One day, the strangest client shows up looking for a remedy for a curse."