#he got the velcro sneakers

[ahhrenata]

saw this and i thought steddie 😂

#I mostly thought steve but yeah #this is what I’ve been doodling tonight cause i can’t sleeeeep #he got the velcro sneakers #LOL #steddie modern au #stranger things #steve harrington #steddie #steddie fanart #stranger things art #hope the link works 🤔

[01zfan]

your birthday | s. es

boyfriend!eunseok x reader | 6.0k words

two posts in two days but this is a little treat for eunseok’s birthday and an instalment of the next series i have in mind! kinda based off a request i received about eunseok and the reader in an igaf war (LMFAO)…inspired by the feeling i get when i listen to in a week by hozier.

contains: having cake (and eating it too if you catch my drift)

when eunseok first became a teen, nothing changed. 

he spent his prepubescent life yearning to become one of the big kids that seemed to have so much fun. he would kick rocks past the park when leaving school, stealing glances at the teenagers that passed around a brown paper bag by the skating ramps. eunseok would look at them through through the chainlink fence when they decided to hang out on eunseok’s path home from school. when he was feeling extra bold, eunseok let his body lean against the fence, fingers in the gaps of wire while he observed them. 

eunseok memorized how they moved their bodies carelessly and walked with a relaxed nature, how they were oblivious to the world around them. eunseok didn’t know if their benevolence was by design, he was so acutely aware of everything he thought it was an innate part of being human. but here he stood, less than a yell away and they didn’t acknowledge his presence. but eunseok was still meek at that age, a small boy who had barely graduated from his velcro sneakers to laced shoes. the teenagers wore clothes that hung loosely on their bodies, dressed in fashion that would make anyone think they were delinquents. they may have been that very thing, what else do you call teenagers that skipped school to spend time at the park day drinking?

no matter what they were, it didn’t matter to eunseok. he thought they were cool and he was determined to become just like them. so when he stood underneath the sun on his sixteenth birthday instead of only staring at them through the fence he called out to them. eunseok was a different person now, he skipped class and retired the circle frame glasses he got called a nerd for wearing. the best part was that the group of kids drinking in the park changed each year and they had finally become his age. eunseok called out the name of a kid that shared class with him waving a pack of stolen cigarettes in the air like an offering. eunseok had stolen the pack from his parents a long time ago in preparation. he hated the smell and the way it made his throat burn, but he didn’t judge. he knew the delinquents loved to smoke, and they easily accepted eunseok into their group after he took a swig of hard liquor without grimacing. 

when he turned eighteen, the first thing he did was buy a lottery ticket. he didn’t know how to decipher the icons on the scratch off, he had to ask a very uninterested worker to tell him if he won or not. he left the gas station with a pack of cigarettes, poorer than when he walked in. eighteen wasn’t too different for eunseok. he didn’t have to worry about skipping school anymore, he had graduated and could fully dedicate his time to hanging out all day doing nothing with his friends. his group had moved on from the adolescence of a kids playground to an abandoned pool. they would spend all day there and be the first ones when the rest of the towns delinquents arrived at night. 

the night of his eighteenth birthday was when eunseok first saw you. eunseok was embarrassed to admit to his friends that knew you were not new to the scene. your older brother was one of the teenagers eunseok looked at when he was younger. your brother came and went, his mind was focused on things outside of drinking and breaking minor laws. he was one of the only ones that left the city quickly after graduation. he was shrouded in mystery and you were no different. when eunseok saw you walking towards the side of the pool his feet dangled off of he didn’t know what to do. eunseok had become so used to ignoring the world around him that when you came into it he was sheepish. he forgot how to form a bond with anyone outside of shared love for misbehaving and making bad decisions. 

you were already so mature for your age, and you knew who you were. you spoke to eunseok about having a job and how excited you were for college to broaden your horizons. eunseok felt like he was that nerdy meek boy again standing on the other side of a chainlink fence—this time he was admiring you through the wired frame. eunseok wanted to be like you, he wanted to go after what he wanted in life like you did.

eunseok didn’t have to spend three years changing himself to be let inside. you welcomed him into your arms without stolen cigarettes and alcohol hidden in paper bags. he felt like he had found a new side of himself, and eunseok couldn’t stop telling people about it. no one could blame eunseok for his discovery; he didn’t know that life could be so sweet, or that love was something greater than partying all night. 

eunseok took responsibility for not telling you early on that you had changed his life. talking about you to anyone that would listen wasn’t enough. the summer came to a close quicker than he expected. the season usually droned on when he spent his time hanging around abandoned places and playing video games in his friend’s basement. but it flew by, and spending every waking moment with you didn’t help the feeling of an impeding end subside. the final grains of sand went through the hourglass while there was a party at the abandoned pool house. it was one of the few nights of the summer where everyone was able to beat the sticky heat, and for the first time in eunseok’s teenage life, he wasn’t there. 

he chose to get drunk off you instead, and inhale your perfume while you whispered in his ear. the two of you decided to make heat of your own, the type that had your bodies drenched in sweat underneath thin covers. your bodies molded together and glistened, reflecting the light of the illegal fireworks that exploded outside. eunseok gave you what little he had left to give you that night. he made a silent vow that he would be a better person when you held him tight and let out cries of euphoria into his neck.

eunseok turned twenty-one while you were still away. he went back to the same gas station that gave him the worthless scratch off lottery ticket to buy his first legal alcoholic beverage. eunseok waited until he settled into his apartment, leaning deep into his couch before reading the label and taking a quick sip. it tasted no different, maybe even worse than the drinks he had snuck and illegally tasted all these years. eunseok didn’t have too much of a taste for alcohol now, even less of a taste for the sickly sweet drinks you preferred. but he drank every drop for some reason, acting like you were the one that brought it for him. 

eunseok was twenty-one when he rented his first car to come and see you. he took off work responsibly and drove through the night until he made it to your campus. he caught you just as you were leaving, planning a secret roadtrip back home to surprise her boyfriend who had just turned twenty-one. eunseok saw you nearly drop the bottle of the shitty vodka wrapped in a bow when you opened the door to him. he spent the night with you in your dorm and you two split the potable hand sanitizer with no chaser like you guys were teenagers again. 

you two barely made it through half the bottle when eunseok felt you lean over and whisper into the rosy shell of his ear that your roommate very obviously wasn’t coming back. she had gone home for spring break, just like everyone else on your floor. eunseok still pressed a hand to your mouth to muffle your moans, and stuck fingers in your mouth to stop you from crying out. he let out grunts into the crook of your neck, and both of you muttered strings of incoherent words while you kissed. eunseok spent the rest of the night making up for lost time through rushed touches fueled by alcohol and desperation.

the next morning eunseok was hungover for the first time in so long he forgot how to operate. he had to wear your cat-eye sunglasses while you walked around the area surrounding your campus. again, eunseok fell victim to terrible timing. but he couldn’t stop himself from saying he wants to move to the city, and he would get the two of you an apartment off campus with the money he had saved up. he quickly talked about a future on the sidewalk, not noticing that he was next to a park. he was only focused on you, the way you were still glowing even through the tint of his shades. eunseok was afraid that the ridiculous sunglasses on his face made his words seem unserious, but the way you leaped into his arms and screamed with joy told eunseok you were taking him serious.

eunseok was twenty-three now, and he was nothing like the person he was in his hometown. after leaving, eunseok realized the world was alot bigger and there were more places to be than playgrounds and underneath bridges. he also realized that proximity was the only thing that made his friends stick around. he missed all of his friends from back home, and he wished distance didn’t keep them apart. eunseok came home to the small apartment he shared with you to see a single trail of confetti lead him to the kitchen. eunseok set his things down, and hung up his coat on the rack next to the door. he blew warm air into his hands, he didn’t know why it was still so cold in the middle of march. eunseok looked for you on the couch, where you normally sat relaxed after your shift until eunseok got home. 

when he didn’t see you, he tried holding back a smile as he slowly followed the trail. he turned three large steps to get to the kitchen into fifteen tiny ones.

“i thought we weren’t celebrating birthdays.” eunseok said loudly into the empty space of your apartment.

the walls were thin, and eunseok barely had to raise his voice for it to echo in every room of the tiny layout. but eunseok imagined the yelling and the tiny steps increased the anticipation and excitement for your big reveal. he would talk to you about the finances later, and how important it was to not waste money on meaningless celebrations.

when he finally rounds the corner eunseok is surprised to see seven familiar faces looking back at him. his jaw drops open when everyone immediately launches into singing him happy birthday. it still hangs when it’s time to blow out his candles. after it’s all said and done, everyone in his kitchen looks back at him waiting for eunseok to say something back. he is still shocked, and he sounds confused when he asks how did everyone fit in the tiny space of his kitchen laughter. booms in his apartment, but eunseok is still confused.

while eunseok caught up with his friends, he can’t help but be confused why they are all here. birthdays were never significant in his friend group, the closest thing they got to a celebration was first pick on what to buy with the pocket change everyone was able to scrounge up. but eunseok’s friends talked about how you got them together, how you planned everything while you stood in the kitchen shaking your head bashfully. eunseok made his friends thank you repeatedly, until you had to sneak into your shared bedroom to get away from the endless praise. eunseok didn’t let it end when you were out of the room. he spoke of you highly in between topics of his friends and how good his life was. his friends were congratulating him, and they spoke of their own lives. everyone from his friend group were going on to do things of their own, outside the limits they were almost fenced into. 

eunseok could talk to his friends for hours and he was grateful that you let him have alone time with the people he hadn’t seen in so long. but he couldn’t stop himself from occasionally peaking towards the closed door of the bedroom. eunseok wanted nothing more than to thank you for the planning and the effort that went into celebrating his birthday. twenty-three such an insignificant age to turn, but you put in effort like it wasn’t just a normal day. 

by the time he was done catching up and promising to visit soon, it was dark outside. he took the time to sincerely thank all of his friends, and to tell them how grateful he was to have them in his life. expressing gratitude came easily to eunseok now, and he knew it caught all of his friends off guard. they jokes about how sweet eunseok was now during the final hug. eunseok only shrugged his shoulders before telling them to get home safe.

no matter how soft he closed the door, the tired hinges still creaked. eunseok joked about all the flaws in your apartment, and you two both made it a game to find the positive in the defects. the squeaky hinges were your first line of security, letting you know that someone was walking into your home. the creaky floorboards made a precious melody, the loud cast iron radiator was white noise. eunseok realized the leak in your ceiling by the couch that counted time was gone. the metal bucket that sat directly underneath the leak was gone too. 

eunseok goes underneath it, smiling at the slightly discolored blotch that covers the hole.

“crafty.” eunseok says underneath his breath.

“is everyone gone?” you say. 

your voice is gentler than eunseok’s. he can make his boom throuhg your apartment, but yours almost gets lost behind walls and closed doors. eunseok hears you regardless, letting you know it’s just you and him in the sanctuary you two built together. 

eunseok clears the space between the living room and the door quickly, turning the knob to see you.

“can you bring me a piece of cake?” you quickly ask, much quieter than your previous sentence.

“sure baby.” eunseok says into the open crack of the door.

eunseok immediately turns towards the kitchen, walking to the counter where his half eaten cake sits. eunseok cuts you a piece of the cake using the butter knife that’s caked in frosting. he watches as it slices through each meticulous layer, acknowledging the fact it probably took you forever to make it. eunseok imagines about you in your cheesy apron, rereading the instructions on your phone a million times while he puts the slice on a tiny paper plate. the blue frosting matches the trim on the edges of the paper dish, and eunseok smiles again.

he heads for his bedroom door again, sucking the frosting off of his thumb before opening the door gently. he has to keep an eye on the plate, careful to not let the slice tip over the edge

“you patched the leak in the kitchen?” eunseok asks.

when eunseok looks up from the slice, he sees lit candles on the bedside table. eunseok sees you read your book in the center of the bed, trying so hard to be nonchalant about the cami top lingerie set you wear. you made sure to wear his favorite color, but whatever you decided to wear would’ve been his favorite. he nearly drops the piece as you set your book down and sit up against the headboard of the bed. you two look at eachother through the candlelit dimness and the the quickly building tension. 

eunseok walks to the side of the bed closest to him. he’s so fast that the slice of cake falls on it’s side. eunseok is only paying attention to it enough to catch a chunk that detaches from it before it hits the floor. 

eunseok wonders what’s going on inside of your mind as your eyes float between the piece of cake and his eyes. he watches you get on your knees, and bend over as your slow hand brushes past his leg to grab the handle of the bedside table. both your chests rise in anticipation as you open the drawer. you let eunseok see the assortment of toys he’s never seen before and a pair of cuffs that reflect light before you grab a lone candle.

eunseok comes closer when you beckon to him after lighting the candle on the small burning fire. he holds the leaning piece of cake between your two bodies and you use your other hand to manipulate the piece to sit upright. you’re messy on purpose, getting the blue and gray frosting on your fingers. he watches you clean the mess you made, sucking the frosting off of your index and middle finger after getting some on your lips. you hold his eye contact while you do this, and eunseok can see your cheeks hollow before you pull your fingers from your mouth.

“make a wish.” you say.

your words confuse him, and eunseok has to be reminded by your pointed eyes. his mind is still blank when he closes his eyes and blows out the candle quickly. you only laugh as you crawl to the edge of the bed on your knees. he comes closer to you, so close that you have to tilt your head to see his face.

“what’d you wish for?” you ask innocently.

eunseok looks past the specks and smudges of blue frosting on your face, and how it matching your cami top. the silk cami is smooth on your body, absent of ruffles or wrinkles except where your erect nipples protrude outwards. its so subtle eunseok think he would miss it if the candlelight didn’t bounce off the shiny fabric.

“i forgot.” eunseok says absentmindedly.

“already?” you ask playfully.

eunseok nods his head obediently. something comes over him looking at you like this. the candlelight ignites your dewy skin, and catches on your glossy puckered lips. eunseok bends down to get closer to you mindlessly, like a moth to a flame.

eunseok lets you pull him in by the hands you have on his face. he feels your thumb that still had frosting paint his cheekbones. you bring him so close that he cant stop the edges of the cake from pressing to the bare skin of your chest. eunseok knows you can feel the cold frosting on your hot skin, but you pull away from him slowly before looking down. the perfect amount is smudged on your chest, directly above the valley of your breasts. 

the view brings eunseok to his knees, and he carelessly puts the cake on the floor to free his hands. now it’s his turn to tilt his head up to look at you. you rest on your haunches and let your arms rest on eunseok’s shoulders. both of you stare at the smudge on your skin. when eunseok blows on the chilling frosting it causes goosebumps to erupt on your chest. you tilt your head to the side, and a hand reaches up to gently grab a handful of his hair.

“can you clean it up for me?” you ask. 

your voice already sounds hoarse and eunseok is no better. he can only nod, afraid that he wouldn’t be able to form a coherent sentence. without wasting another second, eunseok brings his lips to your chest. his tongue comes out first, pressing it flat to your skin before licking up a majority of it. when you sigh and lean your head back it drives eunseok further. he turns his head to get a better angle and attaches his lips to your chest. he sucks harshly, even after the he no longer tastes the sweet frosting. his hands also creeped up your chest and kneads your breasts over the thin silk material of your camisole. 

even when eunseok’s lips detach front your chest, his hands stay on your chest. he managed to move your top down just enough that the pigmented skin of your areola peaks out. eunseok looks up to you for permission, and when you nod your head, he attaches his lips to your exposed skin. he’s careful to not get spit or to stain your power blue camisole. your sighs are broken, and end with high-pitched whines. your grip on his hair tightens before you slightly tug. eunseok reluctantly lets go of your nipple, letting his tongue graze the skin before he’s out of reach.

eunseok is brought back to make eye contact with you. your eyes flicker quickly to his shirt, and eunseok sees that the slice of cake had smudged against his shirt. you pull your arms from his shoulder and walk backwards on the bed by your knees.

“take your shirt off.” you say once you make it to the center of the bed. 

eunseok stands to take off his shirt, not caring if frosting gets in his hair from his haste. his shirt is followed by his pants and socks after your instructions. he’s left in his boxers while you stay in your lingerie. eunseok watches your hands rest on your thighs, how you rub your skin the same way he always does. 

eunseok crawls on the bed until his nose touches yours. he doesn’t know why he’s waiting for you first, but he ignores it when your lips move forward. 

he takes his time kissing you, situating himself on the bed while a hand on the small of your back brings you closer. you give in and eunseok smiles against your lips before slipping his tongue past your lips. he keeps leaning you forward and tilts his head while he guides your movements. when you moan into his moan eunseok’s dick jumps in his boxers. he can feel his tip press against the cotton fabric and how the fabric becomes cold when the air chills his precum. 

before eunseok can lead you to lay your back on the bed, you exert physical and mental strength to break apart from him.

“lay down.” you say.

eunseok can’t stop his eyebrows from raising. the authority in your voice causes his dick to twitch in his pants. he’s hesitant at first, but lays back on the bed in the position he usually puts you in. you stay in your spot, letting your eyes rake down eunseok’s body. his muscles move underneath his skin, and his abs twitch each time the tent in his boxers move. 

you quickly suck the remaining frosting off your thumb and eunseok has to manually blink. before he opens his eyes, he can feel three of your fingers trail down his body. it started on eunseok’s chest, the same spot where he left a forming bruise and ends at his waistline. he thinks for a moment you’ll pull down the waistband, but before he can lift his hips to help your eager hand reaches for him through his fly.

eunseok can’t stop himself from groaning and letting his jaw drop. he sees you looking down at him, and your hair frames your face perfectly as you smile smugly. eunseok has half the urge to play with the strands of your hair, but when you start slowly stroking him all thoughts leave his mind. he only knows your name and the short answers to your teasing questions.

“does it feel good?”

“want me to keep going?”

“want me to go faster?”

“can i take your boxers off?”

each answer to your question is a breathy yes with a head nod. eunseok looks down at the tent you two form together in his boxers. he pushes his waistband down, desperate to see the uncovered view.

when eunseok can see your fisted hand around his base, he lets expletives fall from his lips. he wasn’t usually this reckless. he prided himself in keeping his composure until the very end. but the view of you pleasing him always made him lose self-control a little faster. that compounded with how bossy you were being made eunseok already feel like he was close to cumming all over your hand and his abdomen. 

eunseok is so desperate to feel you wrapped around him that he clutches at the thin strap of your top. but you are out of his reach as you trail down his body and slot yourself between his legs. eunseok props himself up on his elbows and runs his hand through his bangs to push it out of the way. he can feel the clumps of dried frosting comb through his fingers before he brings his hand back down.

“what are you doing?” he asks breathlessly.

he knows what you’re doing, or what you plan to do when he sees the determined glint in your eyes. you pull down his boxers without answering. neither of your say anything, only letting the sound of your heavy breaths and movement on the sheets fill the room. only a second passes between you throwing his boxers past the edge of the bed and you taking eunseok’s dick into his mouth. the warmth of your mouth and the wetness of your tongue causes eunseok to lift his hips off the bed and thrust into your mouth.

eunseok takes control when you gag on his length. he pulls himself out of your mouth by the base of his dick while you furrow your eyebrows at him.

“you surprised me baby,” eunseok wipes the spit from the corner of your lips “i’m sorry.” he apologizes.

you don’t listen to his apology, only placing your hand over his before guiding his dick back to your lips. you trace your bottom lip with the. eunseok shakes when he sees precum glisten on your lips, and how large his dick is in comparison to your face. he has to sigh and lean his head back to stare at the ceiling.

“you can be rough with me.” you say matter-of-factly. 

eunseok looks away from the ceiling down to your eyes between his legs. he feels your hand hold the base of his dick, and when you have his attention eunseok feels you run your tongue along a vein. it takes you all the way up, where you place a sweet kiss on his tip. eunseok twitches in your hold and gasps quietly.

“you can fuck my face,” eunseok feels your warm lips kiss his tip again. “or pull my hair.” you say.

eunseok has to dig his nails in his hand to stop himself from thrusting up into your hand. it’s all so vulgar, the way you give him permission to wreck you so casually. 

“don’t wanna.” eunseok says.

he did have nights where he fucked you into the mattress, not relenting until you were jelly in his hands and his thighs were shaking. sometimes something came over eunseok where he was admittedly mean to you in bed, spanking you until you were in tears and denying you orgasm after orgasm. but right now, he wanted nothing more than to lay you down and gently show you how grateful he was to have someone like you in his life. 

eunseok wished you weren’t so giving, or so hard to look at in the eyes during times like this. when you audibly pout and drag a wet hand up his shaft eunseok lifts his back off the bed slightly.

“i can feel you getting harder the longer you think about it.” you deadpan.

eunseok has to shake his head to try and deny the facts

“‘cause i want to have sex with you,” eunseok hisses when you drag your hand back down to the base. “really nice and slow.” he sighs.

eunseok can feel your lips curl against the shaft of his dick to smile, and he can see your legs playfully kick in the air. eunseok wants to cover his eyes with his arm, maybe the pitch black would stop him from twitching in your hand so much and his face from getting so hot. but your other hand has a steady hold on his, and his other hand is too busy clenching a fist repeatedly. 

“we have all night for that.” you blow cold air on his tip and eunseok hisses again. “we have all day tomorrow too, actually.” you say casually.

eunseok doesn’t know where this side of you came from. your sex life was very carefree. both of you agreed that assigning roles in bed was restrictive, and you were both so young that experimenting was a big part of intimacy. neither of you fell into roles, but more often than not eunseok ended up in charge, changing the positions to what he thought was most beneficial unless you requested something. but here you were slotted between his legs, calling all the shots and teasing him. 

he let out another sigh, hoping you didn’t hear the shaking in his voice.

“can you put it back in your mouth?” eunseok asks pathetically.

you smile even bigger before kissing the tip again. you start slowly, beginning with his tip. you look up, seeing eunseok’s adam’s apple bob while his hands grip the sheets. eunseok has to look at you take him deeper and deeper in your mouth. his elbow slide from underneath him and his groans when he can feel your nose touch his stomach.

“you’re so good at this.” eunseok says. 

you stay there for a moment, and hollow out your cheeks. eunseok bites his bottom lip when you come back up.

your eyes already start becoming red, and you have to sniffle to stop your nose from running. eunseok thinks you look beautiful. your determined look softened to something more needy, and eunseok was sure his eyes mirrored yours. he lets one hand tangle in your hair and slowly guides you back down to take all of him.

“you got it” he encourages when you take a brief pause.

you nod with your mouthful of eunseok and grab his other hand. he interlaces your fingers with his. the hand in your hair is just for show—the pace and how deep you take him is entirely in your control. you squeeze his hand when you gag, and eunseok coos you assurances and compliments.

“your mouth is so perfect baby.”

“making me feel so good.”

“keep going.”

“you’re so pretty.”

eunseok can feel the vibrato of your moans come from the back of your throat each time he compliments you. the vibration makes his dick twitch in your mouth. his hips occasionally jump up, and each time you look at him begging for more.

eventually it’s eunseok squeezing your hand, warning you that he can’t hold his hips back anymore. you nod and move his hand to the other side of your face. you place steady and firm hands on his thighs, ready to push back if it becomes too much.

“can i?” eunseok asks, nearly shaking.

you nod and say something that is blocked by eunseok’s heavy dick in your mouth. he takes what he can, a hand tighten in your hair and he places a guiding hand on your cheek. he tilts your head and eunseok lifts your head all the way off his dick, until a nearly invisble string of spit connects his tip to your flat tongue. eunseok massages your throat, enticing you to loosen it before he pushes your head back down his dick. when your halfway there, his hips meet you the rest of the way. eunseok can feel himself against the back of your neck, and how your lips stretch around the root of his dick. 

eunseok grips you there, and shakes your head so he can snuggly fit inside your tiny mouth. when you gag he pulls out and repeats the motion, until his hand holds your head in place and his hips take him all the way. eunseok wipes the tears from the corner of your eyes and lets his moans bounce off the tiny walls in your room. he’s sure of a noise complaint, or at the very least evil looks when he runs to someone in the mailroom. but eunseok doesn’t care when he turns your head and pushes halfway in until he presses your cheek as far as he’s comfortable with. 

when eunseok places his hand over your soft cheek and feels the bulge of his dick press against his hand, he goes into a frenzy. the steady rhythm he has is ruined instantly when you look up at him and whine. he becomes fixated on stuffing half of his dick into your small mouth and the pain of your nails digging into his thighs. you don’t push back, and when eunseok looks down at your body he sees you grinding your hips against a balled up blanket. 

“fuck, fuck, fuck,” eunseok lets one hand fall from your face to place it over your hand. “i’m close.” eunseok whimpers.

he’s rushing himself again, and he wishes he could slow down to enjoy the moment. but the burning in his thighs on pushes him quicker to the edge. 

“where?” eunseok asks you quickly. when you control back, bobbing your head up and down at a fast pace eunseok sees stars “in your mouth?” he asks quickly.

all eunseok needed was a nod and murmur from you before he thrust his hips up one more time before stilling them. he can feel the sweet release, and how it drips down his length before your quick tongue swipes it up. he stays there, back slightly off the bed while he keeps giving you cum. your name and a million thank you’s and fuck’s slip past eunseok’s lips. when he thinks he’s down, you bring a gentle hand to massage his balls. 

when eunseok is finally done and the last spurts go down your throat, he relaxes. it’s a full body relaxation, so much so that his lower back cracks in relief. he gives your every last drop, and you continue to bob your head up and down slowly even after there’s nothing left. 

as fast as eunseok was cumming he is tender to the touch, instinctually laughing from the almost ticklish feeling of you continuing your ministrations. eunseok has to pull your head off his dick, but you start to pump his length slowly while you rest your head on his thigh to catch your breath. eunseok has to place a firm hand over yours and shake his head before you pull your tunnel vision from his dick to his pained expression. 

“sorry.” you laugh and place one more kiss to his tip. “got carried away.” you say.

eunseok can only let out a light chuckle. the remaining last bit of his strength pulls you up from your spot between his legs to bring you in for a hug. you kiss him back with ease, like he wasn’t just using your mouth like his personal pocket pussy a few seconds ago. your tongue slips past his lips and you guide his hands to knead your breasts again. eunseok can’t let anything continue before he showers you with praise and appreciation for making his birthday so special. so he pulls away from you and distracts you by looking deep in your eyes softly. when he places a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose you close your eyes. eunseok makes quick work of you, by the time your eyes are opened it’s him on top. 

your pout is incredibly cute. eunseok laughs and kisses the creased skin on your forehead as your fucked out eyes try to scowl at him. 

“don’t laugh at me.” you try to be angry, but eunseok sees the smile on your lips.

“let me make it up to you,” when eunseok sees you open your mouth to protest, he kisses your complaints away.

“it is my birthday after all.” eunseok says before kissing you again.

#01zfan: eunseok #eunseok smut #riize smut

[mockerycrow]

BUMP IN THE NIGHT (Roommate!Gaz x GN!Reader)

roommate!gaz masterlist

summary; your halloween costume makes kyle feel things.

a/n; i’m an american trying to understand the british school system. 😭 corrections are welcomed!!

AFTER SECONDARY SCHOOL, Kyle stopped going to parties and such. He used to go to parties all the time, at the very least it would be once a week—even if the party was held on a school night. He kept up with his grades and he was pretty responsible, so he saw no reason to stop. He drank, sure—yes, perhaps he got black out drunk a couple of times, but he never did anything too reckless or dangerous. Kyle used to be the type where you would blink and he would wander off, but he grew out of that pretty quickly. He never tried to take his friends’ keys and try to drive their cars or anything, was never the type to need their phone taken away so he wouldn’t drunk-text an ex; nothing.

Even after spending his time in the British army, he didn’t really go out to party with his mates like that. Kyle would go to bars and such, but he wouldn’t try to do drinking games or challenges like he would at eardrum bursting parties held in people’s homes whilst their parents were on business trips. So imagine his surprise when you inform him you’re going to a little party—your words are “get together”, but Kyle’s convinced otherwise—you let him know the invitation you were given also extended to him, but Kyle insisted that he should stay home; hand out the candy and such. Kyle’s never been too big on Halloween, but he did celebrate it in some way. Sometimes it was used as an excuse to get together and party when he was a teenager, and he did participate in trick-or-treating as a child.

You plan on drinking at this get together, so Kyle’s been waiting by the front door with his jacket on, sneakers tied, keys in hand. He's going with you for once, but he didn’t have time to grab a costume, which you insist that it’s fine. You said you’d be done putting your costume on at least ten minutes ago, so Kyle is curious about what's taking you so long. He nearly starts walking to your bedroom to knock and check in on you, maybe you’re stuck—hell, he doesn’t even know what you’re going as—but the second his muscles twitch, he hears your door squeak open. He mentally notes that he should oil the hinges for you. “Close your eyes!” You call from behind the corner. Kyle huffs and closes his eyes. “No peeking!”

“I won’t!” Kyle responds, crossing his arms. He hears you shift around, a closed mouth sigh escaping your throat for a moment. His ears pick up your feet walking closer—you sounded, heavier? Like there was more weight on you somehow. “Wait, m’not done yet.” You grunt, adjusting something that had velcro on it. Kyle can’t stop the lip twitch at your irritated tone, like something wasn’t completely going your way and it was amusing. You shift something else, fabric rubbing against fabric. “Okay, you can look now.”

Kyle opens his eyes and his jaw drops ever so slightly when he sees what he sees; you, wearing tactical gear. Albeit, it’s airsoft tactical gear, but it’s tac-gear nonetheless. You have woodland camo on; the frogs camo jacket as well as pants on—marines inspired, he thinks—with a matching green vest, decked out in magazines of both a rifle and a pistol, some pair of scissors taped to some pliers in a pocket. There’s some fake smoke grenades and flashbangs attached to your tactical belt, and you have a radio in a pocket, a wire trailing up to your ear. You’re holding a rifle that has bright blue tape on it to indicate it’s fake—you’re going to a party, for god’s sake—and you have a thigh holster for a pistol he’s sure also has blue tape. You even have combat boots on, and your ankle bulges as if you have an ankle holster. You have a little pack attached to your tactical belt, and he spots some zip ties in an offhand pocket. The only thing you’re missing is a flag badge on your chest and your shoulder, as well as a unit badge. There’s eyeblack messily smudged underneath your eyes. Kyle laughs in disbelief and amazement, speechless for a moment. “What the fuck?”

You laugh, knowing his reaction is positive. You hold your rifle close to your chest, practicing good trigger discipline as your finger rests outside of the trigger guard. “You like it?” You ask, doing a little spin for him, allowing him to take in the details you put the effort in making. Kyle notes how heavy you sound and he laughs again. “Bloody hell, I didn’t know you were gettin’ this together! Yeah, I like it!” Kyle exclaims, approaching you. He reaches out and grabs your shoulders, moving you about as he pleases, clearly appreciating the detail. You grumble a bit as a complaint, but you let him do what he wants. “Jesus, how long did this take?” Kyle asks with an astonished tone. He’s quietly nitpicking it a bit—he is special forces, his brain cannot help it—but he overall really does like your aim for accuracy.

“Hm, well, maybe a month? A month or two?” You guess out loud, shrugging. “I wasn’t really keeping track.” Kyle snorts and shakes his head before looking at the rifle. “Before you say anything,” You utter, handing him the rifle. “It’s not an airsoft rifle, and it’s not real. My airsoft one is locked away.” Kyle blinks for a moment as he checks out the rifle, his eyes flickering between you as the gun sits in his arms so naturally. “You have an airsoft rifle??” Kyle asks, truly confused because last he checked, you didn’t play. You hum and you adjust your vest, the velcro ripping as you do so. “My friend wanted to get me into it so they gave me a lot of their old stuff. I’ve played a round or two, it’s actually fun.”

His eyebrows raise for a moment in acknowledgement and Kyle looks at you once again. His eyes slowly trace every detail of the uniform clinging to your body, the details, and the way your eyeblack is very poorly applied. Something tightens in his chest as you begin to ramble about how much research you did about tactical gear and how many pictures you used as reference. You’re murmuring something, but Kyle isn’t paying attention. His face feels a bit hot as his eyes are glued to you; he never understood why people liked tactical gear so much until now—something was.. feeling off inside of his gut.

“Kyle.”

He blinks rapidly before offering a smile and a questioning “hm?” You laugh and cross your arms in front of you, causing Kyle’s eyes to flicker away for a moment. “You spaced out.” You say, uncrossing your arms and taking the rifle from him. Kyle waves you off and rubs the back of his neck, his eyes looking towards the front door. “Mm, sure, c’mon. Let’s go.” Kyle laughs, a nervous feeling bubbling in his gut—a feeling he doesn’t understand. He opens the front door, swinging his keys around his pointer finger as his heart pounds hard in his chest. “Gonna be my DD?” You tease, Kyle hearing you close the door behind you two, hearing the gear you’re wearing shift around. Kyle refuses to look at you in fear of throwing up—he doesn’t understand why he’s suddenly so anxious—but he laughs, unlocking the car. “It is my turn, isn’t it?”

#roommate!gaz #call of duty #call of duty mwii #cod mw2 #cod #mw2022 #modern warfare ii #mw2 2022 #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x gn!reader #kyle garrick x gn!reader #kyle gaz garrick x gn!reader #gaz <3 #gaz modern warfare #i love gaz #gaz #cod gaz #gaz mw2 #gaz cod #gaz call of duty #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x you #gaz x you #mwii #cod modern warfare #modern warfare fanfiction #cod mwii #halloween special

[miinatozakiii]

i get misty the moment you’re near

kindergarden teacher!sana x fem!reader (remastered) ; part one ; fluff

summary: it’s normal to get all bittersweet watching the girl you’ve helped raise step into her first day of kindergarten, but is it normal to find her teacher so captivating at first sight? is it normal for her teacher to find you just as cute?

wc: 2.8k

warnings: none!

a/n: rewrite of the series that started it all :P, enjoy!!!

opening the door, you watch your little one unbuckle her seatbelt. the smile on her face is everything to you and more, shining even brighter than the sun even with that missing canine of hers.

she slips herself out of the car and onto the concrete of the parking lot, eager to get out there and into the world (it's a bittersweet moment, watching her grow up before your eyes, tumbling away from your grasp so soon at the ripe age of five). yet, her small gesture of grabbing your pointer and middle finger instead of holding your hand in the traditional way brings a smile to your face. it's a unique quirk of hers, a subtle reminder that she’s still your little girl no matter what.

as you and your niece hana make your way into her elementary school, she’s much better at navigating this foreign territory than you are, leading the way confidently and pulling you with every step. you follow closely behind, admiring her determination and poise, the smile on your face growing with each hall you pass. 

as you approach her classroom, you notice parents bidding their goodbyes and waving to their children inside the cheery, chat-filled room. it's a heartwarming scene, filled with families sending their little ones off to the place that’ll start it all.

when you look down at hana, it seems as if her excitement had been erased in a matter of seconds. she stands there, peering into the classroom door nervously, looking hesitant to even enter.

you crease your brows, looking at her with concern. “is everything okay?”

“y/n,” she begins, almost frowning. “what if no one wants to be my friend?” 

her words catch you off guard, and a look of surprise crosses your face. she avoids your gaze, her eyes fixated on her beige velcro sneakers. you squat down to her eye level, sensing her discomfort.

your features soften. “hana… why would you think that?”

“i don’t know… i’m just scared, i don’t want to be the only one alone.” she says, her frown deepening.

“hana, sweetheart,” you start, holding both her hands in between your palms. “trust me, at least one person will talk to you. even if it isn’t today, someone amazing like you will make a friend, i mean, who wouldn’t want to be your friend? i made a lot of friends when i was your age.” you pause, putting your hands on her shoulders as you make eye contact. 

she looks at you with a slight pout, your heart cracks a bit.

“you and i, we’re alike, your dad and grandma think so too.” you begin, hands moving over to fix the white shirt under her denim overalls. “and be glad that we’re alike.” a mischievous smirk tugs at your lips. “your dad isn’t as cool as me, as us – trust me. be glad you got some of your auntie’s genes, you’ll be the coolest in the room since you’re like me.”

“you sure?” 

“of course i am. one hundred percent, no questions asked.” you assure her, standing up. “now, come on, let’s go inside, your dad said your teacher was nice!” you beam, smiling at the little girl. “now , you lead me, to be honest i’m starting to get a little scared… i might get lost– i mean, this isn’t my classroom.”

hana’s worried expression is replaced by a grin after hearing your last remark, and then she teases you with that cheeky, high-pitched voice of hers, “you’re so silly y/n, you’re old and scared? i thought you said you were the coolest!” 

“hey! i am the coolest! and i'm not old! you should see your dad! so many wrinkles on his head when he snores…”

hana's laughter rings out, her newfound confidence sparked by the playful banter between the two of you. without hesitation, she seizes your hand and practically pulls you into the classroom, her excitement palpable as if she were alice venturing into wonderland.

(they grow up too fast)

as you step into the classroom, a pleasant aroma envelops you, carrying hints of vanilla intermingled with subtle undertones of peaches and pears. the scent isn’t overpowering, you think it’s perfect and adds to the ambiance of the slightly chaotic yet meticulously arranged classroom. in an oddly comforting way, it reminds you of the cozy atmosphere of the café where you work.

as you scan the classroom, you observe children engrossed in various activities—some coloring at their desks, others darting around with more energy than you have after four shots of espresso, and a few kids posing for pictures taken by their parents. 

hana excitedly tugs at your hand, leading you to the vibrant cubbies where students store their completed work and lunchboxes. with a proud grin, she points out the sticker adorning her cubby: a little shark sticker, hammerhead. the sight of the sticker brings a warm smile to your face, knowing how much hana and her dad adore these creatures.

"hana, sweetie, stand next to your cubby. i want to take a picture to show your dad," you suggest, gesturing towards the spot where you'd like her to pose. hana eagerly complies, flashing a wide smile that lights up her face and reveals her adorable gums. her infectious grin brings a smile to your own lips as you swiftly capture the moment with a quick snapshot. without hesitation, you send the picture to the group chat shared with your brother, mom, and dad before taking a little selfie with her yourself.

as you and hana make your way towards the area where the backpacks are hung, your gaze runs wanders around the room, taking in the environment. amidst the flurry of activity, your attention is drawn to a striking woman across the room, her warm smile immediately catching your attention. 

you watch as she interacts with another parent, her friendly demeanor evident as she crouches down to the level of a young boy, pointing to – which you assume – his seat before returning to her full height. a moment later, her eyes meet yours, catching you off guard.

she’s unreal, she’s so unbelievably beautiful.

her flowing dark brown hair cascades gracefully around her, framing her face elegantly. you're struck by the perfection of her nose, it’s perfect. its gentle angle and graceful slope draws your admiration and it surprises you how much you appreciate such a seemingly small detail, but there's an undeniable allure to it, how could a nose be so perfect? was it weird to think that? 

your gaze then drifts downward, drawn to her peach-colored lips, which appear soft and lush and  inviting, and wow, impossibly alluring; in fact, they look really kissable and–

you stop your thoughts there because this is a woman you’ve just seen for the first time, you shouldn’t be thinking this – you can’t be (one part of your brain is telling you to stop, the other continues to daydream in the back of your mind).

her outfit is almost as cute and pretty as she is. the beige cardigan and loose white skirt she has on compliment her slender figure beautifully, emanating effortless grace. the delicate silver necklace sitting on her fair skin catches your eye a little more than small bracelet adorning her wrist and the tiny gold earrings that glint softly in the light.

hana feels your hand loosen up around hers, and then she looks up at you to see you staring across the room at the familiar woman she had met a week ago, ears tinted a shade of light pink. feeling hana's gentle tug on your sleeve, you snap out of your trance and return your attention to her with a soft smile. 

“that’s my teacher, she’s really nice,” hana says, smiling, “last time, she gave me an extra sticker! dad says she reminds him of you.”

“me?”

“he says that she’s… warm like you? no, something about you and her having the same warmth or something,” hana explains, trying to recollect her memory. “i don’t know how people can be warm in the same way, i think dad is just saying things. that doesn’t make any sense, same warmth– oh! he also said the way she talks to me reminds him of you.” hana adds. 

without warning, your niece walks you over to the woman and she smiles at your niece. you try to regain your composure during those few steps taken.

“this is ms. minatozaki.” hana introduces her to you shyly, tugging at your hand. 

"hello, hana. it’s lovely to see you again." the woman greets, gently patting her head. her voice is sweet like honey, soft like a breeze, and the way she speaks is welcoming, easing you immediately. it even makes your cheeks warm up a bit.

her smile nearly knocks you off balance, as if you were a sturdy tree getting hit by a sudden gust of wind. the genuine joy reflected in the curve of her lips as she greeted your niece made your knees go weak. meeting her gaze, you find yourself captivated by her eyes—those big, beautiful, brown eyes. she's a few inches shorter, so her head tilts up ever so slightly, and you struggle to resist falling into another trance as you take in her alluring features up close.

you try to compose yourself as you put your hand out to greet the beautiful woman.

“hello ms, i’m y/n.”

with that voice, gosh, her wonderful voice, she responds, “it’s nice to meet you, y/n.” 

sana is stunned by the woman in front of her, taking a moment to take in your presence. your face is almost intimidating with its sharp features, but there’s those subtle similarities – dimples, faint beauty mark in the corner of your eyes, and akin smile – that you have with hana. she's trying not to swoon over you in the moment, especially since you're in the middle of introducing yourselves, and it would be a bit (very) unprofessional to do that in front of the kids’ mother.

her smaller hand fits perfectly in yours as she shakes it. the world seems to pause for a moment as you realize this beautiful woman is shaking your hand – yours. it feels like you're in a romance drama of some sort with everything seeming to slow down around you. she puts another hand on the outside of yours, welcoming you into her precious workplace with both hands.

hana looks between the two women, a small smile tugging at her lips. she senses the spark that forms from the small interaction, and observes how her aunt's usually stoic and confident facade disappears in that moment.

so much for having the “cool” genes, you seem like putty in hana’s eyes.

you notice that your hands are still connected, her soft skin still touching, ms. minatozaki is still holding your hand. 

in an attempt to hide your nerves, to conceal the fact that you’re still thinking of her smooth skin on yours – you pull away to run a hand through your hair.

(hana sees right through you.)

“well,” you begin, shifting your gaze to your niece as you squat down to meet her eye level. a loose strand of hair that escaped her braided locks is gently tucked behind her ear with your slender finger. placing a thumb on her cheek, you rub it lightly. "i'll let you be off on your own now. go have fun and be good, okay? i'll be here in the afternoon."

the corners of sana's lips curl upwards as she witnesses the tender interaction between you and hana, her smile growing wider at the evident care and love in your voice.

“okay!” hana gives you a toothy grin. you laugh out softly and give her an almost identical grin back, squishing one of her cheeks in between two knuckles. 

in your heart, a faint trace of worry lingers, subtly etching a furrow in your brow despite your smile. you genuinely hope for the best for your niece; she's your only niece, and your deepest desire is for her to simply be happy. 

“if ms. minatozaki says you were being good today, we can go to the cafe and i can make you your favorite hot chocolate, how about that? ms. dahyun also said she made a special croissant for you~”

“please! please! i’ll be good, i promise.” hana almost shouts, practically jumping up and down.

laughing at her enthusiasm, you then respond, “alright, be good to ms. minatozaki lovely, i’ll see you later.” 

the two of you exchange a nice, warm hug, your head burying in the small of her neck and staying there for a few seconds more. after you pull away, you push away her bangs and press one last kiss to her forehead, lingering for a little longer. 

“you’re growing up too fast for me, i don’t know how i’ll catch up.” you mutter under your breath, quiet enough for only you to hear.

you stand back up and watch the little girl run off on her own to an empty desk, so eager to get out there and pick up some coloring pages – she’s already aching to get to work.

“she’s very enthusiastic,” sana begins. you turn her head back to meet her gaze, humming in agreement. “she’s a wonderful little girl from what i’ve observed so far. she’s seriously adorable!” 

“yeah, she’s a curious little girl – very bright.” you agree, “i just hope she doesn’t too much trouble. she’s pretty shy with new people, but she’s very energetic when she warms up and, well- you know how kids are.”

ms. minatozaki giggles and the little scrunch of her nose catches you off guard, prompting a spontaneous laugh to escape your own lips. your neck tingles and there’s a flutter in your stomach, the moment overwhelms you, and you find yourself smiling and giggling along with her, your ears undoubtedly turning a shade of pink that you don't even bother to acknowledge in the moment. 

there’s really nothing else you can acknowledge other than the wonderful woman in front of you, all attention deserves to be on her, especially when she’s so lovely to the eyes and her voice is like a gentle melody with each word uttered.

“i’ll be going now ms-”

“it’s sana, you can call me sana.” she cuts you off, “i mean, you’re not my student.” she adds, giggling again.

"definitely not," you quip, savoring the opportunity to keep the banter light and the laughter flowing. the thought of stalling this moment, making her smile and witnessing the way her face lights up with each shared joke makes your heart warm. you want to joke and joke forever if it means hearing and seeing her like this.

sana watches you adjust your dark brown jacket, a little cue that you have to depart soon (much to her dismay).

a hue of pink dusts her cheeks as you flash that charming smile of yours, she probably won’t get over the sight or the feeling she gets when you do so – ever. 

you seem entirely unaware of the effect you have on her, she mentally punches herself for feeling a flutter in her chest over – who she assumes is – her student's mother. the young teacher wonders how she'll manage to get through the year if she finds herself encountering you more often.

“well,” you check your watch, “ i have to get going now. please let me know if anything happens with hana.”

sana nods. “of course, i’ll make sure hana has a great day.” 

as you and sana exchange sweet smiles once more, a familiar warmth spreads through the two of you as you say your last goodbyes.

before heading out the door, you wave to your niece again, both of you grinning sweetly at each other. you also sneak one last glance at your niece's beautiful teacher before you head out and navigate your way back to the car.

leaving the building, the sun seemed to shine a little brighter, and there was a new warmth in your chest knowing that hana is in the caring hands of such a beautiful, sweet, and charming teacher: ms. minatozaki.

as you get into the car, you lean back into the seat and sigh, closing your eyes like a stupid idiot in love (that’s what you are, honestly).

you were definitely going to convince your brother to let you take hana to school more often, and even pick her up regularly too. it works pretty well with your schedule anyway, considering how flexible it is.

and little did you know, sana would secretly hope to see you more often as well. the image of you, your captivating smile, and the memory of your sweet tone of voice would linger in her mind throughout the entire school day.

#sana x reader #miinatozakiii #twice x reader #kpop x reader #twice imagines #sana twice #minatozaki sana #twice sana #minatozaki sana x reader

[moldybonessmell]

Spider-squad winter outfits headcanons post!

you can tell i drew different charas in separate days oh wow

So i kinda posted few days ago about recent lack of atsv content Hobie content specifically so i had to deliver myself, amirite? Tho i decided to not stop on Hobie and did the entire spider-squad or perhaps, spider-quad? *badum tss* im funny see

also it's like -38C/-36.4F in my city and i be wearing like four layers at all times so i got inspired can't believe i still love winter when my ass be freezing this bad

So here's my headcanons for spider gang winter outfits!

Let's imagine they all have a mission in winter...

Gwen

She can't really wear her hood bc of wind but everyone teases her about looking bald without it lmaoo so she got one of these knitted hoods instead, also wears one of these fluffy soft jackets

Was wearing uggs until she lost one of the boots during a fight LOL so she got these uggs with velcro fasteners + leg warmers

pics: 1) found-store on Pinterest, 2) wglwkjg on Pinterest, 3) pey on Pinterest, 4) ·˚ Isabella·˚ on Pinterest

Miles

I see him wearing something kinda like his og itsv outfit but winter version with one of these gigantic puffy jackets and nike sneakers with fur inside + a hat with pompom

Let's imagine his jacket is opened, i didn't realise in time it makes his spiderman-outfit not-so-spider looking

pics: 1) Hipok on Pinterest, 2) Nordstrom on Pinterest

Pavitr

He got one of these fluffy earmuffs (because his hair needs to be looking perfect at all times!), a puffy cropped cord jacket, a pair of these puffy winter shoes (these have a ribbon so you don't lose them flying around a city) and a BIG scarf with mittens (he definitely lost one of these tho)

He's the least used to cold out of the squad, but he's being very brave about it and wears a socially acceptable amount of layers

pics: 1) Campus Gifts on Pinterest, 2) WTI Designer on Pinterest, 3) true deals club on Pinterest, 4) liisa rita on Pinterest 5) EtsyCA on Pinterest

Hobie

In contrast with Pavitr he would wear a disturbing amount of layers, definately one of these mfs who wear layers instead of one warm thing

He's got one of these plaid "winter" coats that are thin af but swears he's warm cus it gets hot during fights (nobody believes him cus they watch him start to shiver in real time) (Pavitr crocheting a scarf for him was the only way to make buddy dress fairly properly for cold weather)

At least Hobie got a warm hat, right? Yes, spikes on the mask do just go through it, but it's warm, right? -right? ("it's a ventilation, mate!" or whatever lol)

Got layers of sweaters over each other: a turtleneck-sweater, a cropped one on top + a vest over all these

Would wear his usual boots just with warm socks under

pics: 1) People on Pinterest, 2) Natalia on Pinterest 3) Fur Hat World on Pinterest 4) OLUOLIN on Pinterest 5) Elena Ilieva on Pinterest 6) EtsyCA on Pinterest

Disclaimer: english is not my native and i was SWEATING trying to find how all of these clothes are called in english so if i messed up some names ignore it pls or let me now how they are called correctly

Okay, this is all! Hope you liked it!

#atsv #gwen stacy #spider gwen #spider ghost #miles morales #spiderman #across the spiderverse #ghost spider #pavitr prabhakar #spiderman india #hobie brown #spider punk #atsv headcanons #headcanons

[xhoky]

° PE teacher

° still kinda bad at any kind of games, even if he is a somehow good PE teacher.

° The one who is most likely to get hit by a ball.

° at least he got used to it.

° Chara is a student that have good grades mostly on PE lesson (maybe a little bit on French lessons too bcuz he likes Ani more than other teachers).

° Chara is in ski team. He also Participates in championship matches, that's why he is really close to Cross in sports thing.

° Says that students should have better and healthier food rations, while hiding chips and chocolate under the desk (Coaches don't play).

° Nightmare: "You should think more when you throw the ball into the net! Look, it's easy"- while starting another physics lesson individually for Cross.

Cross: "You know I didn't understand a shit, right?"

° Literally can't tie his shoelaces and wears velcro sneakers.

° steals chocolate from other teachers (especially on teacher's day). Nightmare just give it to him cuz he doesn't like sweet anyway and Error doesn't mind when he does this.

° He can't steal sweets from Ink though. Bro won't allow him to do this.

° He doesn't hate Dream, he just doesn't like him as he is already in friend group with Nightmare (the one who actually mocking Dream) and Error. Just like Ink, Dream and Ani in their own group.

° one of a students gifted him a rainbow colored ball instead of usual orange/white. Now it's his favourite ball.

° He will allow students that don't want to attend PE lessons to sit on the bench. Also he belives every lie students say even if he hears it 100th time from the same kid.

° Loves penguins and also have penguin handmade pin from one of the students on his jacket.

#dreamswap #teacher au #ds #dreamtale au #undertale au #au #dreamswap cross #ds cross #fanart #art

[emmerrr]

adam parrish hcs

because it’s his day!! it’s today!!!

adam always kicks off his shoes without undoing the laces then gets annoyed when he has to untie them to put them on again

so for his birthday ronan dreams him up a pair of velcro sneakers

they’re super bright and obnoxious (neon green or something) but they ALSO light up when you stomp your foot AND they glow in the dark

adam: “they’re hideous. i love them.”

he hums when he concentrates really hard but doesn’t really realise he’s doing it

usually 70s or 80s songs that play a lot on the radio when he’s working at boyd’s

so he gets a lot of songs stuck in other people’s heads accidentally

adam: *humming the final countdown by europe while doing his homework*

ronan, later: 🎵it’s the final countdown, na na naaaa naa, na na na na na naaa🎵

adam: why are you singing that

ronan: are you fucken kidding me

he’s forever fixing things around the barns or 300 fox way

leaky faucet, loose door-handle, stiff window, squeaky hinges? adam’ll fix it

i already have a hc that ronan makes adam a new mixtape every time adam heads back to college for a new semester

but i think that adam makes mix-cds for ronan too

he has an older laptop that still has a cd-drive in it because it’s second hand

so he makes cd’s for ronan’s car, filled with songs that ronan finds irritating as a payback for the murder-squash song

think like uptown funk, hollaback girl, call me maybe, happy, somebody that i used to know -- stuff that probably got way overplayed and/or was annoyingly catchy

he leaves them in ronan’s car after he drives it so the next time ronan drives it and presses play he’s bombarded with 🎵A FEW TIMES BEEN AROUND THAT TRACK SO IT’S NOT JUST GONNA HAPPEN LIKE THAT CAUSE I AIN’T NO HOLLABACK GIRL🎵

(but maybe adam sneaks some songs on there that remind him of ronan too. maybe. just maybe)

gansey teaches him how to play chess and adam rapidly becomes better than him and now every time they play he wins

gansey always thinks this will be the time he wins until adam makes a move that turns the whole thing around and gansey realises adam could’ve ended it several turns back but was just humouring him

through carefully cultivated habit his expectations for his birthday are low to non-existent

but he has friends who think the world of him and who also have the worst poker faces of all time

so when blue arrives to take him out for a birthday breakfast it takes him all of two minutes to get her to admit they’re throwing him a surprise party

“you better act surprised or ronan is going to murder me”

they get back to the barns later on and there’s a bbq going and lights floating in the air around the deck and gansey, henry, matthew, ronan, opal and the fox way ladies are all there.

“SURPRISE!!”

adam, trying to act surprised: um wow thank you guys oh my god what a shock

ronan, narrowing his eyes: sargent i fuckin’ knew you’d cave

anyway he spends his birthday surrounded by people who love him who would do anything for him :’))))

#adam parrish #trc #trc hc #the raven cycle #pynch

[rmoonstoner]

Kinktober 18+

1 - First Time

Pairing: Virgin Jake Lockley x fem Reader

Warnings: Mentions of blood, injuries, angst, p in V sex, virgin Jake, not virgin reader, Jake as Khonshu's Avatar is hinted, reader is vaguely aware that Jake works a dangerous job, yes they both are attending university, small Easter eggs to show Marc and Steven are still there.

I DID NOT GET ANYONE TO PROOF READ.

***

You had been dating a wonderful man for a long time. About a year to be exact. His name was Jake Lockley, and he was everything you had ever dreamed the perfect man to be. He was tall, dark, mysterious, and sometimes brooding, but you had managed to brighten his world so much, he never brooded around you. Loving him was easy, right from the very start.

You met him one night after one of your night classes at the campus that you attended. Your class had gotten out just minutes after the last bus, which left you humming and hawing about a way home. You didn't live on campus, and your home was a good hour away if you walked. You didn't want to walk.

Luck seemed to be on your side, because you could spot a cab parked in the farthest edges of the parking lot. The driver just happened to be turning his car lights on with the press of his fob button as he approached his vehicle. You found yourself breaking into a brisk jog towards him, the poor cabbie having no idea someone was booking it towards him.

You could see the man opening his trunk and putting what appeared to be a laptop bag and his light blue canvas jacket away. As you got closer, you could see him grabbing a new jacket, this one bigger and in a bluish slate grey. He pulled it on, then switched his shoes from grey sneakers with velcro, to nice looking black leather dress shoes. He started putting on a dark grey flat cap, what appeared to be a black tie, and some black driving gloves as well. He looked like a student who was getting ready for work.

You were almost there, feeling like you were close enough to shout at him and possibly gain his attention, and that's what you did.

"Excuse me! Sir!" You yelled between your heavy breaths from running.

The man went rigid and he slowly turned around to see you barreling towards him. He wore an uneasy look on his face and he seemed to back up against the trunk while moving one of his hands to the interior of it.

"Please, sir. I saw your cab, and there are no more busses tonight. I was hoping you were on duty?" You panted as you stopped just about six feet away from him. He seemed to relax a bit and he slammed his trunk shut.

"Sí. Sure. Just getting on shift, actually." The man replied as he procured a pack of cigarettes from his jacket. He put one of the cigarettes between his lips and lit it, then he looked you up and down.

"Student?" He asked, probably trying to gauge the type of fee he needed to charge.

"Yeah. I'm majoring in a few different things actually. You look familiar… Do you also go to this campus?" You asked him as you studied his face. He looked vaguely familiar, but you couldn't place why. He appeared to be surprised, but then he smiled charmingly. That made your heart flutter to see. That smile paired very nicely with his dark brown eyes.

"Sí. I do." He said.

"What are you majoring in? I'm doing mechanical engineering, physics, robotics, and computer programming." You tried to see what classes he took, and he seemed nervous about answering you.

"Ancient civilizations, specifically Egyptology. I am also taking anthropology, archeology, astronomy, automotive mechanics, and forensic sciences." He listed off the things he was taking, and the last two were surely a surprise given all the other courses he was taking. You smiled at him, looking him up and down. He did not look like the type to be interested in any of the things he mentioned, except the last two.

"Oh, wow. That's pretty amazing. Which one is your favorite?" You asked, and he smirked, his eyes seemingly catching the moonlight just right. They appeared like a sheet of glowing white for a brief moment.

"My favorite is forensic science. It's fascinating yo see how criminals get caught." He said, then he took a long drag of his smoke, while the other reached out for a shake. You took his hand, noticing how soft the expensive leather of his glove was. His hand was so much larger, nearly engulfing yours.

"My name is Jake Lockley." He finally introduced himself to you. You smiled and squeezed his hand as you told him your name.

"So, about that ride, doll?"

***

That was a year ago today. Today was the day you decided to plan a test anniversary date on him. Your actual anniversary was in a month, when you two started officially dating. You had gone the whole nine yards for this, hoping that today would be the day you could move on from just making out, heavy petting, and him giving you the best oral you had ever experienced.

You got everything did. New lingerie, new dress, new shoes. You had your hair cut, dyed, and styled, then had your makeup done, and a mani and pedi all done that morning, while he was away on a weekend business trip for his boss, Conrad.

He was due back around the early evening.

Right now, you were just putting the final touches to your plan. You had the whole flat cleaned yesterday, and you had added a whole hoard of LED candles to the entire flat, with some real scented candles in the mix. They were scents you knew Jake loved. Cinnamon, coffee, citrus, and pine notes.

You had his favorite dinner roasting in the oven, a large rack of beef ribs, slathered in his favorite homemade barbecue sauce. It was a sweet and smokey, brown sugar, with jalapeños in the rub, coated in honey and maple syrup. For the sides, you made thick potato wedges and a very nice hearty salad. For dessert, you had made a butter pecan pan of cinnamon rolls with a thick and gooey icing.

It was absolutely perfect. You were sure this perfect night would finally knock the last brick loose in Jake's wall. The one that allowed you access to whatever goods he was packing. Fuck, you wanted so badly to have sex with him. He was so good with his hands and mouth, you imagined his dick would feel even better.

Nothing could derail this night for you.

Or so you thought.

The first thing that went wrong, was that Jake didn't come home in the early evening, which would have been a little after six. He had texted you to let you know he had blown a tire on his car, and he had to change it. Okay. No big deal. That would maybe take him what, thirty more minutes, tops?

But then, at around seven, nearly forty five minutes later, he sent another text to inform you there was a road block, so he had to take a detour. That would force him to double back about twenty minutes, only to take a new route that would add another hour to get home that you both hadn't planned on. By now, you had turned the stove to a holding temperature, and had cracked open one of the beers you had bought for him while you watched videos on the internet.

By eight, Jake still wasn't home, and he had not sent any more messages. You sighed heavily and turned to the stove, turning it off completely and putting the food out, cooling on the counter so you could put it away into containers.

By nine, Over half of the LED lights had gone out, the batteries dying from hours of use. The scented candles were still going strong, though, only being about a third of the way through.

And now it was ten. At this point, you were ready to accept defeat, and possibly go to bed once the food was cooled enough to put away. You felt like you had wasted the day. All that effort and planning, ruined because of a slew of bad luck that you couldn't control.

You slowly peeled off your pretty new dress and stared at yourself in the mirror for a bit. Perhaps you would at least leave the lingerie on, just in case, and you hung the dress up over the mirror by his bed. You grabbed one of his graphic tee shirts that you honestly had never seen him wear. It was a night sky print with a full moon on it and you basically were the only one who ever wore it.

You came back out to the kitchen and started to pack up the ribs into containers with a heavy sigh. At least your man would have a good lunch for work tomorrow. Just as you were putting the first container into the fridge, you heard the front door. The locks came undone, and the door swung open. Standing in the doorway was Jake, shoulders slumped, duffle bag at his side, and a wilted bouquet of flowers in one of his hands.

His face showed how tired he was, and it also showed you that something had happened to him. As he stepped into the low light of the room, you could see a bloodied plaster over the bridge of nose. His lower lip was split, and he had a black eye. You saw the slight limp in his step as he went to the shoe rack and toed off his dress shoes that were now almost completely destroyed and caked in crusty mud. He made sure his dirty shoes didn't touch the heels you had discarded earlier in the night. Heels he knew you hadn't even worn yet.

"Oh, Jake! Did you get into a fist fight again?" You asked and clicked your tongue as you came over to him. He set his bag down on the couch and turned to look at you with open arms. By the way one of his shoulders was significantly lower than the other, you knew he wasn't asking for a hug. He needed help removing his jacket.

"Hola, mi amor. I did." He answered you with a rough and scratchy voice. He sounded like he smoked an entire pack of cigarettes in a few hours. He smelled it too.

"Did Conrad at least help this time?"

"Yeah. Fucker owes me a new car, though." Jake murmured with a wince as you helped him out of his jacket, then his blazer. The moment they came off, you could see multiple splotches of blood soaked through his blue dress shirt, holes in almost every patch of blood.

"For fuck's sake. What happened to it this time?" You asked him calmly. By now, you had grown accustomed to him coming home from work like this. It was a silent understanding that you wouldn't ask more than he told you. In his words, a private detective of sorts that used his cab as a clever disguise to blend in easily.

"Shoot out. Took the scumbags down. Conrad covered the clean up." Jake huffed while you removed his shirt and went to grab him a cloth.

Whatever happened, must have happened right before he left to come home, as he still had open wounds all over him. You knew Jake had some sort of weird healing factor that he never fully explained, and you didn't question it one bit. He was always forever grateful that you never harassed him about it and that you always took the time to help clean his wounds when the healing was taking longer than expected. You knew by morning, he would be free from any marks.

As you cleaned him up, he gave the air a good sniff and he noticed the half put away pot of ribs. His stomach growled loudly and you giggled as he gave you a cheesy smile.

"Are you hungry? I made your favorite." You asked while wiping the last bit of blood from his stomach.

"Sí. It smells really good. You made that for me?" He husked the question as he pulled away to look at the food.

"Yes I did. I was just putting it away in the fridge when you came home. Would you like me to reheat some for you while you go have a shower?" You said. He shook his head with a grunt and started to grab a plate and fill it up, before popping it into the toaster oven.

"Okay. There's salad and dessert in the fridge, too. Cinnamon pecan rolls, with lots of that icing you like." You said. Jake hummed and when mentioned the dessert he groaned.

"¡Mierda! You're so fuckin' good to me, mi vida. I hope you didn't wait for me." Jake said as he dove into the fridge to grab the salad and the tray of cinnamon rolls.

"Actually, I did. I haven't eaten yet." You replied sheepishly. He whirled around and pointed his finger to you, his face showing his obvious annoyance.

"What have I told you about that? If I am more than an hour late, don't wait." He scolded you, and you looked down.

"I'm sorry." You quietly replied while playing with the edge of the shirt you borrowed. You could feel tears welling up in your eyes from everything not going the way you had planned.

Jake's eyes skimmed your form and his expression softened. He set the salad bowl down and padded over to you. He placed his hands on the side of your face and tilted it up so you had to look at him. He finally noticed the makeup on your face that was slightly smudged, the tears prickling the corners of your eyes.

"Hey, no, don't be sad, cariño. I just mean that you should not go hungry while waiting for me, okay?" He whispered, his voice suddenly several octaves softer.

"I know… It's just… This was supposed to be a romantic dinner, and now it's cold, and you're all banged up, and…"

"Shhh, no. No, don't think that way. It's my fault." Jake hushed you and drew you in a firm embrace. He stroked your hair and back and he started to sway with you to muted sounds of the radio that was playing in the kitchen. It did but it also didn't help. The flood gates opened, and you sobbed into his shoulder.

"¿Lo entiendes? Do you understand?" He asked, and all you could muster in reply was a strangled 'yes' and a nod.

"Why was tonight so important to you, mi vida?" Jake asked, sounding genuinely baffled about it. You took a deep breath in, and buried your face into his neck. You didn't want to tell him why, because the reason sounded so stupid and pushy.

"Nothing-"

"I don't think it's nothing." He said as he noticed the smell of your hair products. The fancy ones you saved for dates with him. He sighed and pulled back as he found your hands. He looked at them, seeing you had a fresh manicure.

"There must be a reason. You did your makeup and hair. Your nails are done up, and your brand new shoes are by the door." He listed off all the things you had done in preparation for the night, and you felt even more defeated.

"It's just the anniversary of the day we met. I wanted to do something special for it. You've changed my life for the better. I felt that day was just as important to celebrate as our anniversary…" You whispered and he squeezed your hands gently.

"Oh, cariño… I am so happy that you remembered that day. That's why I brought you flowers. Though, now they are wilted and useless." He paused for a moment and went to cup our cheek.

"I thought you would be upset when I came home so late."

"No. I am not upset with you. I'm upset things didn't go according to plan." You replied while moving your hands up into his sweaty hair. He sighed and rested his forehead against yours.

"So, even though it's later than intended… How about we have that dinner you made together, hm?" Jake suggested with a smile. You smiled back and nodded.

"Okay, though I didn't intend to have a romantic dinner in one of your tee shirts… Haha."

"That's okay. I didn't intend on coming home, covered in bloody holes, a black eye, and a busted nose and lip with wilted flowers. If it makes you feel any better, I'll go have a quick shower, and you can put whatever it was you had on before. We will pretend it's six o'clock again." He said, then checked the toaster oven.

He had just enough time to have a very short shower and get redressed. You nodded and dabbed at your eyes with his shirt. The idea didn't sound bad at all. It meant you could somehow salvage this night just a little. You just wanted him to relax, and now maybe when it was over, you could curl up to him in bed and have a good sleep. The sex part of your plan was long forgotten.

While he showered, you changed back into your dress and put your heels back on, then you touched up your makeup so no one could tell you cried. You quickly set the table and moved one of the unscented candles to the center, along with the flowers you put in a vase. Most of them were too far gone, but four of them were still as fresh as when he bought them. Just as you grabbed the reheated ribs from the oven, Jake came strolling out of the bathroom in the same outfit he was in, minus the jacket, shoes, hat, and gloves when you first met him.

His hair was slicked back, making him look sleek and clean. When he grinned at you, his eyes went wide as he took in your dress and shoes. You watched his face contort into look of longing with his brows furrowed, pupils blown, and his lower lip between his teeth. You noticed the plaster on his nose had been replaced with a fresh one. His black eye didn't look so bad with the mud and blood washed from his face. You could see his week's worth of stubble, with not a speck of grey. He smelled like his blood orange soap and his woodsy cologne, making your nose tingle with the pleasant and fresh scent.

"¡Dios mio!" His words sounded almost punched from his lungs as he came up to you and held you flush against him.

"You're so beautiful, mi amor." He murmured right before capturing your lips with his. He seemed almost desperate as his fingers spread out on your lower back and ass, trying to pull you somehow closer. You blushed as he let go and gestured to the food.

"We should eat, cariño. I know I am starved, and you must be as well."

You both ate without talking. All that could be heard were happy grunts and slurping as you dug into the ribs and salad. Jake had two plates full of ribs, and a fairly large portion of the salad. He always ate so much, you wondered where he put it other than his delectable ass, thighs, and chest.

When dinner was finished, Jake cleaned up the dishes, while you did the table and reheated the buns. When they were sufficiently hot, you took the pan to the couch and sat down to eat them while watching an old mobster movie he liked. Half way through the movie, and half the pan of cinnamon rolls later, Jake had become a little restless.

He was fidgeting with one of his Rubik's cubes in one hand, his other twitching on the back of the couch behind your shoulder. One of his legs was bouncing up and down, which was a tell tale sign that he was nervous. You couldn't really fathom why.

"Hey, can we… Uh, can we go to bed now?" Jake asked in a slightly timid voice. You looked at him, seeing that he looked like he definitely should be going to bed, and you smiled.

"Of course." You replied with a quick kiss to his cheek as you got up and took the pan away to deposit back into the fridge.

Jake had scrambled up and to the bathroom the second you got up. What you didn't see, was him doing a quick once over of himself. He brushed his teeth and applied another half spritz of his cologne, then he used the facilities. He fixed his hair from the neat and sleek look, to slightly messy with just a curl or two hanging loose over his eye on his left side of his face. When he came out, you were sitting on his side of the bed just about to take off your shoes.

"Por favor, mi amor… Leave those on for me for just a little longer." His voice was a little deeper with a slight whine to it.

He sounded almost needy as he padded over to you and fell to his knees between your legs. He rested his forehead against yours and sighed as he wrapped his arms around you. You put your hands on his shoulders and rubbed his sore feeling muscles as he whimpered and nudged his nose to your neck.

"Te amo… I hope you know that, mi vida." He rumbled softly. You smiled brightly while creeping your fingers up the collar of his shirt.

"Yes, Jake, I know. I love you, too." You murmured, hands rubbing his neck, finger tips slipping into his hair. You could feel his lips mouthing at your skin, right on your sensitive spot.

"I think I'm ready… To take things to the next level… If you are?" He groaned with a firm nip to your pulse point. You whimpered and tugged on his hair.

"Oh fuck, Jake. Yes, please…"

Jake hummed in response as he went to pull off your dress. He was used to seeing you naked, so he was utterly unprepared to see lingerie. Pretty white and black lace framed your breasts and hips, and he let out a deep groan at the sight. His rough hands came up to cup each breast delicately with his hands.

He was always so gentle and delicate with you. Sure you hadn't had real full blown sex yet, but he was accustomed to your body through his mouth and hands. He was so good at eating you out and fucking you with his thick fingers, that you honestly had been satisfied with that alone. He knew every sensitive spot on your body and how to make you gush for him.

You likewise knew most of his erroneous areas. You had only ever given him touches through his clothing. He never let you pull his cock out to see it, and he never accepted your offers to suck him off. You never knew why, and you almost thought that perhaps something was off with him. He clearly found you attractive, and his dick got hard for you almost at the drop of a hat or a suggestive whisper. You thought a man like him surely would have been a stud in the pasture before you came along. He was sexy, gorgeous, beautiful, and handsome…

You were brought out of your thoughts as his hands moved down from your breasts, fingers ghosting over your stomach in a twitchy manner. He seemed nervous this time, more so than he usually was. You cupped his face and forced him to look at you.

"You're nervous… You don't have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable." You whispered to him. His reaction surprised you. Full on tears filled his eyes. He bit his lower lip and pushed his forehead against yours, his eyes sliding shut.

"Mi amor… You're always so patient with me. You don't push me for more information about me, like you should. You don't question where I go for days or weeks at a time, and you always welcome me back without question… I love you so much."

"Jake… Sweetheart… Why are you so upset?"

"It's just… You deserve so much more than I can ever give you. I don't deserve a woman like you." He said solemnly as the tears fell down his cheeks.

"Honey, no… You give me everything I could have ever dreamed of. A loving, caring, and protective boyfriend. You're sweet and very smart. You're the man I love, and if you don't want to have sex with me right now, you don't have to-"

"No. It's not that." He interrupted and opened his eyes.

"Then what is it?"

"I… I've been keeping secrets from you. I am afraid you might leave me…"

"What sort of secrets? You're not married, are you?" You jokingly asked. His face stiffened up and he huffed.

"Oh God… You are married-"

"No! I am not married. I… I just… Fuck it's hard to explain. All of it is."

"Well then… Take your time." You said and kissed his nose. He smiled weakly then took your hands in his.

"Mi amor. I truly do love you. With all of my heart. You accept me for me, even though I am a dangerous man. I gave you a key to my flat, to allow you into my life more. To open up… But I have been dishonest with you…"

"Jake, whatever it is, we will be fine. I promise." You said and then rubbed his knuckles with your thumbs. He sighed and sat back on his heels.

"You know how I said I have two flatmates that are barely ever here?"

"Yeah. I found it odd how there's only one bedroom, though. Is it a timeshare thing? It would explain the baseball stuff, and the desk and shelves you won't let me touch. And all the little notes I find on the fridge or the fish tank."

"Yes… I… They aren't flatmates. There is reason you never see us together." He replied flatly as he searched your face for a reaction.

"Okay… Care to explain that further to me so I don't make assumptions?"

"The notes you find are from Marc and Steven. They are… They are like my brothers, but aren't. And no, don't let your mind wander. They aren't fuck buddies, either." He started to say, then he squeezed your hands a bit more.

"You know how we never really run into each other at the university?"

"Yeah. I thought it odd you never told me I could come to any of your classes, except the automotive one. I find it weird you're taking so many classes, yet you are also always busy working for Conrad." You remarked and he winced.

"There's a reason… I… Fuck this is so hard to explain. Again, I… The automotive class is far away from all my other classes. None of my classmates there are in any of the other ones I take. It is also the late night class, so I can just go straight to work in my cab. What I am trying to say is… I'm only Jake in that class. All of my other classes, I go by Steven Grant…"

Your brain nearly broke when he revealed to you this information. Steven Grant was one of the people that supposedly lived in this flat with him, and one of the two people who always left notes around.

"... Except for the astronomy class. That one I go by Marc. I lie and say it's my middle name to get around the fact that all of my paperwork is under Steven Grant Marc Spector…"

"So you mean to tell me that your name isn't even Jake Lockley?" You asked, your head tilting to the side in confusion. Jake huffed and let go of your hands to grab at his hair.

"No. My name is Jake Lockley. It is. I promise you it is. It's just… I have a disorder that was brought on by childhood trauma. Back then, before the trauma, there was only Marc Spector. Then after the trauma, there was Marc Spector, Seven Grant, and then me…"

"Oh. Okay. So you have that multiple personality disorder. Uh, disassociate… Uh, dissociative identity disorder?" You bumbled your way through the term and he seemed to smile at how calm you were. You seemed more concerned about saying it correctly, then him having the disorder.

"Yeah. That one. I'm sorry I never told you… I was so scared that you would leave me. I begged my headmates to be nice to you, and let me front when you were around."

"Oh… Okay… Have I met the others?"

"Yes and no. I was so tired last month after I came home from Spain, but I promised you a movie night. I couldn't keep my eyes open to save my life, and you were holding me and rubbing my back. I felt so safe, that slipped away into the back, while Steven came out to watch the movie with you. He didn't talk for a reason, because he sounds nothing like me. You haven't met Marc."

"Oh… Are they okay with us dating?"

"Sí. Are you okay with me having two other dudes in my head?"

"Yes, so long as they aren't mean to me. I would, however, like to meet them and get to know them as well."

"That's it? You're seriously okay with this? With them, and me?"

"Yes, Jake. I am seriously okay with this, with them and you. We are okay. I thought this was going in a different direction, honestly." You giggled a bit and ran your fingers through his hair.

"What do you mean, mi amor?" He asked with a small smile.

"I thought you were going to say you were a virgin, and that's why we haven't had sex yet." You said with a teasing smile. His smile slowly faded when you said that, with him looking down at your lap with a frown.

Oh no. Was he a virgin as well?

"I've never… I've never had sex before. I'm a virgin. I don't want to disappoint you."

"Oh… I am so sorry… I didn't mean… Fuck, now I feel like an ass. Are all of you virgins, or just you?" You asked, hoping to not sound rude. Luckily he let out a small laugh.

"Marc isn't. Steven is."

"Okay. I understand. It is okay if you are a virgin. That doesn't change anything for me. It does let me know why you won't let me touch your penis." You replied with a chuckle and pulled him close, putting his head on your chest as you ran your fingers through his hair. He let out a small chuckle as he hugged you tightly.

"You're not mad at me?" He questioned. You kissed the top of his head and squeezed his shoulders.

"No."

"Can we… Do you want to have sex with me? Even if it's my first time and I might suck at it?" He asked while sounding a lot less nervous.

"Of course, my love. Tell me how you want this to go."

"I want you on your back, head on the pillows. I want to hold your hand and your hips up as I fuck into you nice and slow. I want to make you moan, and come all over my cock while we kiss. I want to keep going until I come inside of you." He explained to you what he wanted, which made your heart swell. That was so intimate and passionate sounding.

"Yes. I love that idea. Let's try to make it happen." You purred as you gave him one last kiss to his nose and scooted backwards to the mountain of pillows at the headboard. Jake chased after you while he discarded his clothing. By the time he got to you, he was naked, his cock throbbing and leaking.

"Fuck… Baby, you're so beautiful…" You cooed to him as you reached out and stroked him. He groaned and rutted into your hand.

Jake slowly took a pillow from beside your head and he put it under your hips. He smiled as he reached down to slip his fingers inside of you. You groaned and arched your back, feeling the pads of his middle and ring fingers press against your gspot. Jake growled, his other hand slipping your panties off and throwing them over his shoulder. He sighed when you whined and tensed, your pussy squeezing his fingers as you soaked his hand.

"Mierda, that's so hot." Jake murmured as he took his wet hand and stroked himself, mixing your slick with his generous amounts of precome.

"Can I make love to you now?" Jake asked, his voice sounding sweet and desperate.

"Yes." You nodded and opened your arms, beckoning to him.

He leaned down and kissed you hard, his free hand finding one of yours. He laced his fingers with yours and he slowly slid himself inside of you. He groaned with every inch that he sank, his eyes closing as his tongue danced with yours. He bottomed out with a growl and he pulled away to look down at where your bodies were connected.

"You're so big… Jake… So good… Please…" You whimpered for him. Jake hummed and started to move his hips, his eyes glued to how he slipped in and out of you. The sight made him feral, and he moved to kiss you again.

"Mi vida… Mi amor… Te amo." Jake whispered as his hips sped up. You groaned and held on, feeling him hit that perfect spot inside of you.

"Jake! Oh, yeah… More… Harder, please…" You gasped and wrapped your legs around his waist to encourage him. Jake grunted and went harder, dipping himself even deeper with each thrust. He started to grind and rock into you, causing you to come undone and soaking the bed under you.

"Te amo… I'm not gonna last much longer, mi amor." He grunted as he moved a hand down between you. He was quick to find your clit and make sure you came at least once more before he filled you.

"I love you, Jake, fuck, fill me, please!" You begged him as he drew another shattering orgasm from you. He groaned and kissed you as he pressed as deep as he could go. He went rigid and spilled inside of you as he whimpered your name.

"Thank you, mi via. Te amo."

"No, Jake… Thank you. Te amo." You whispered back and then drifted off to sleep in each other's arms.

***

Tags: @snippychicke @eclecticpatrolroadlawyer @queenofclassy @clairewinchester14 @promiscuoussatan @mona-has-friends @lazyotakujen @timeless-crow @crazylittlereader2474 @bibibeu @novagonz3elz7799

#moon knight #moonknight #moon knight series #marvel moon knight #jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #virgin jake lockley x reader #jake lockely smut #moon knight smut #jake lockley x y/n #jake lockley x fem!reader #jake lockley x you #18+ fanfic #kinktober

[soullessjack]

I’ve been on TikTok a lot because my FYP has been infiltrated by SPN and most people on there think he has the mental mind of a 3 y/o or a baby. How is this possible to think with his storylines? It doesn’t make sense to me. I wasn’t in the fandom, just an avid show watcher, and I saw him similar to Amara and how she’s an adult that grew up fast except he was just born grown but naive because the world is complex. So how do people get to him having a baby mind? It feels ableist to me but I can’t figure out how to articulate why (like when someone has developmental disabilities and someone says, “They have the mind of a _y/o,” when that person’s needs/skills/etc are more complex) and I was wondering if you could shine some light on why you think this happens. I don’t think people understand why other people have uncomfortable feelings surrounding baby/toddler/kid!Jack but I can’t remove it from accidental ableism. I’ve tried talking to people about it on TikTok but they either double down or say that it’s my opinion. However, I don’t feel like canon supports theirs. Thank you. I love you your posts about Jack and your insight. Good work.

hi, thanks :3

genuinely I don’t know, and I ask myself that every single time I go through spn tiktok lmao. the best I can figure is, for one, TikTok is the app where media literacy and nuance go to die like dogs. there’s no arguing with anybody there unless you get lucky (source: I’ve argued).

two, I think genuinely it comes from the over-saturation of baby!jack content in the fandom, both in and out of tumblr, and the extremely minimal amount of content where he’s actually treated with nuance and complexity. like, it exists, but only in very small circles that the majority of the fandom clearly ignores. from what I’ve seen most of spn-tok is focused on TFW or Dean or Destiel and don’t generally care about Jack that much, so it kinda makes sense that they’d just run with the most prevalent idea of jack and not really think about it in the long run, or when they watch the show.

a lot of the arguments I’ve seen literally boil down to “he wears Velcro sneakers” and “he doesn’t know [insert thing]” or just his general social awkwardness/unawareness (which Cas displayed all the time in the early seasons but never got outright infantilized for). like look at this:

and there’s millions more comments like this, unfortunately. I don’t mean to speak for everyone, but at least for me, the body language and specific mannerisms Alex put into his portrayal of Jack is what resonated the most as an autistic thing, naïveté and poor social skills aside of course. Like, he fidgets/stims constantly—

and none of this is scripted for him to do, either! Alex just decided it worked, and he was right!!

—and to see these very blatant autistic traits be reduced down to “portrayal of a child/toddler” is downright sickening, especially when plenty of other autistic fans have pointed it out and expressed to Alex that they relate to Jack and even asked if he had done it on purpose because it was so well done.

what I’m personally confused on is how many people will double down on jack being a child like it’s driftwood in the ocean. like, going back to my argument, I gave the other person multiple points in the show that make it obvious jack is intended to be an adult. Harper, the beer, any of the trauma he’s endured; the works. and all they had to say to that was “you do you I guess.” and it’s like what do you mean, ‘you do you’? I’m giving you actual examples that happen in the show, and I’m asking you to think ‘hey, maybe if jack flirted with a girl and talked nonstop about what it’s like to fall in love and have sex for an entire episode and had his dad offer to go to a dive bar for bucket-list hookups in the episode after, maybe he isn’t a child.’

but again, this is TikTok, so asking for any kind of self examination is asking for too much.

it just strikes me as odd. it’s odd and confusing and horribly frustrating that people are dying on this hill like it’s some kind of civic duty. like, why does it matter to you so much to see Jack as a child? why is it so important for you to think of him that way, that you just ignore canon evidence and autistic voices to make yourself feel right? what was even weirder was they were autistic themselves, and said they wouldn’t dream of infantilizing him, but here we are. their reasoning was “he’s literally 3 by the end of the show,” and that was it. And of course they weren’t wrong, but if you look at every time Jack or anyone else acknowledges his age:

D: “how old do you think you are?”

J: “3 days, 17 hours and 42 minutes”

Dean shrugs and lets him drink beer.

M: “You should be six months old.”

J: “I am…sort of.”

Mary shrugs and treats Jack like a teenager from there on out

M: “Do you ever hang out? I mean, with kids your own age?”

J: “Well, I’m two…enty. I’m twenty…two. I’m twenty-two.”

While the show acknowledges Jack’s actual age, it’s arguably on the same level of acknowledgment of Cas being literally older than time, because what people strangely fail to remember is that Jack is not completely human and doesn’t have the natural aging or developmental process that humans do. He’s three in the same way Vision is three, and Vision is already married with children. Beyond that, there are plenty of times when Jack is referred to as a teenager or treated like one, like Dean’s “he’s a millennial” joke in Last Holiday (wrongly termed but the intent is still there). Hell, even in the scripts they’ll directly say things like:

“Jack is spiraling out, a teenage powder keg,” (13x06 Tombstone, deleted writer’s draft)

“Kelly can’t help but smile, so impressed by the man he’s become, but not about to let him out of her sight,” (14x08 Byzantium, prod. draft)

that make it pretty clear Jack is functionally an adult despite his unnatural age, just like Cas or Amara or even Emma (also the added bonus that Jack explicitly hates being called a child or treated like one, but people literally reacted to that like “oh silly baby wants to be in charge like a grownup” so, like, I don’t even know what to do with that) (and banking off of that, every other time Jack is explicitly put into an adult situation, like flirting with Harper and literally asking Dean how to have sex, sooo many notes on that gif set were the same parroted “nooo baby boy don’t corrupt your innocent mind!! dean is such a bad influence 😂😂😂😂”, so the obtuseness is very intentional). I try not to be accusatory when I talk about the way Jack is treated in the fandom, as a general for online discussion and because I know it’s largely unintentional, but I really do think Destiel (and Sastiel) have some hand in it.

If you look at the majority of Baby!Jack content, it all centers around how domestic either ship is with baby!jack, how good Dean is with kids (baby jack) and how much of a sweet older sister Claire would be, etc. It’s all for the sake of domesticity. It’s the white picket fence family dream that canon TFW2.0 doesn’t really quite have. It’s to make Dean and Cas and Sam and Cas and Claire and Rowena and whoever else, a softer version of themselves. It’s never actually about Jack. He’s just the cannon fodder; the prop; the dress setting; the accessory. He’s there to make everyone else look better and to fuel them forward. No matter how much people want to argue that it’s “giving Jack the childhood he should’ve had,” we both know it’s not actually about him, because canon coming in with the steel chair again: Jack literally chose to be an adult. He hates being considered a child and has never expressed anything more than wanting to be a regular teenager. And like I said, people on spn-tok are naturally Destiel centered, so it’s honestly not very surprising that they just can’t let go of this content cow because it’s just too cute and wholesome and precious of course, despite it being rampant ableism and just generally annoying to people who actually do care about Jack in a deeper sense. Gag me. So maybe that explains the doubling down, but then what gets even more confusing to me is, like, you can have a domestic family AU that doesn’t rely on erasing a character to fit a specific image. You can have a domestic family AU without being ableist about it. You don’t have to do any of the things you keep consistently doing. You even fucking already it in the show! Canon TFW2.0 is dysfunctional on various levels, but so was TFW, and so were just Sam and Dean. It’s simply their dynamic, and it’s what adds to their family bond being what it is to begin with. Nothing you’re doing is something you need to.

I wanna stop before this gets longer than it has to be, but for one final thought I think the general lack of care for autistic people in any space is part of it, too. It’s why half of our representation is painfully inaccurate or egregiously offensive; it’s why fandoms of media with autistic/autistic-coded characters almost always rampantly infantilize them (cough cough SheRa). And like with Alex’s mannerism choices, it’s the distinct yet subconscious connection between autistic behaviors and childlike behaviors, because autistic people are so largely treated as incapable innocent children and cannon fodder for their autism warrior parents; both of which reflect like direct sunlight in Baby!Jack tropes. And it’s why people just don’t care enough to do anything about it, to heed any criticisms about the harm they’re doing, because to them it’s not harmful. It’s not a problem that’s doing any perceivably “real” damage because they haven’t been personally hurt by it (except when it comes to unfair Dean criticism or Sam or Cas criticism, because that’s clearly more important than ableist rhetoric and representation erasure), and probably because they already hold those views to autistic people in the real world.

The world at large does not care for autistic people, or disabled people in general. Nothing that hurts us is considered anything serious. Nothing that matters to us is considered valuable or worth respecting. And because of that, we already struggle in the real world day by day, so we turn to online spaces for connection and sharing our interests safely. We turn here for community, only to be met with the same indifference and rejection as the real world, because the same people we’re trying to avoid are here too, and then we have nowhere else.

•••

**im probably going to make this a separate post but I also want to talk about the weird cognitive dissonance that the fandom has with babyjack and how it’s pretty much considered “acceptable infantilization,” and how so many people in the fandom have said they want more complex jack but still engage with content that actively erases Jack’s complexity and relies on that erasure to make him what he is).

***edit: tags 4 reach, absolutely feel free to ask for removal! ik it’s out of the blue but you guys have had some of the better takes on jack lol @angelsdean @hauntedpearl @uh-ohspaghettio @queermania

#sorry this took for fucking ever to write out #holdthypeace.txt #spn #jack kline #autistic jack kline #spn tiktok #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #team free will #team free will 2.0 #spn fandom #supernatural fandom #spn family #destiel #deancas #sastiel #samcas #domestic destiel #babyjack #baby jack #toddler jack kline #baby au #fandom critical #fandom criticism #spn critical #ship critical? I guess?? #fandom ableism #ableism in fandom #tw infantilization

[66sharkteeth]

I haven’t seen laces on Rex’s shoes in seasons 3 or 4 so I gotta ask: does this mean Rex has been wearing velcro sneakers?

I probably forget to draw them here and there, but I'm sorry to say he definitely has shoe laces. He's actually wearing the same shoes from last season too, he's just got different.........leg....boot.....things. Honestly, do not ask me what the hell is going on w/ Rex's outfit from the knees down. I just designed them to look cool.

#city of blank #rex

[whump-town]

Rushing Home

Hotch doesn't get a "concussion" properly assessed, naturally, there's consequences.

(lots of nausea and one puke)

Word Count: 6500

Jack doesn’t really mind going to school, he likes it. Actually, Jack really likes school. But the weekends are still better. Breakfast is pop-tarts and they get to go do all the fun things. At the grocery store, they pick up chicken nuggets and frozen pizza. They walk to the park and like most weekends, Hotch carries Jack back when he’s too tired to walk. When they get home they watch movies and Scooby Doo. But on Monday they can’t do any of that. Pop-tarts are only for the weekend and that’s why Mondays are the worst days. 

“You like eggs,” Hotch reminds Jack, watching him pick and turn the scrambled eggs over with his fork. “You want something to dip it in?” 

Jack shakes his head.

“Alright.” Hotch pushes himself up and goes over to the counter. He glances back at Jack as he refills his mug. Reaching up, he opens the cabinet and pulls down a plate. He scoops up what remains of the scrambled eggs on the pan still sitting on the stove top. As he comes back, he takes the ketchup from the fridge, and another fork, and sits back down. In his peripheral Hotch can see that Jack is watching him. He puts a little ketchup on his plate and stabs a bit of egg. 

His stomach’s used to nothing but coffee until at least lunch time, and he got nauseous just cooking the eggs but he takes a big bite. He points to the ketchup with his fork, “you sure you don’t want any?” 

Jack hesitates for a moment, thinking it over. “Yes,” Jack pushes his plate forward, “please.” 

Hotch barely manages to swallow the bite but he smiles, stabbing more onto his fork. Jack’s still watching, timing his own bites with Hotch’s. His stomach does an ugly little twist, nausea rampant, but he cleans the plate, they both do. 

Hand against his rebelling stomach, Hotch leans on the sofa as he waits for Jack to come running back with his shoes. In his hands are not his school shoes but the lime green rainboots they fight over frequently. Hotch had gotten Jack real sneakers this year, big boy sneakers, with shoelaces and not velcro. And seeing them, Hotch begins to say something but then he thinks about having to lean over and tie those shoelaces and, instead, he just request Jack hurry up before they’re late.

Getting big boy shoes was supposed to mean that Jack tie his own shoes but it’s not that easy. On the mornings when Jack does tie his own shoes, it takes at least ten minutes. Other mornings he just throws his leg up on Hotch and waits expectantly for them to be tied for him. Shoes with the velcro straps were so much easier for mornings, but Jack had pleaded in the shoe store. 

“Daddy can you get coffee?” 

Prentiss had called while they were in the car and Jack had been silent in the back, Hotch had nearly forgotten he was back there. Hotch glances back rearview mirror, pulling the phone from his good ear, “I already made coffee, buddy.” He replies to phone, “yeah, driving him to school.” Hotch glances back int he mirror again, “Miss Emily says hi.” 

“Hi!” Jack shouts back, kicking his feet back and forth where they dangle. 

“No,” Hotch says, “he just wants a d-o-n-u-t.” He glances back but Jack’s watching the window, humming a song to himself. “We’re already late, Prentiss – He doesn't need— Alright, alright. Yeah fine.” 

They take the same route everyday and Jack notices immediately when they detour. “Coffee?” he asks, perking up and knowing wherever they’re going, it’s not to the school. 

“Yeah,” Hotch huffs, and glances back, “what kinda donut do you want?”

“Chocolate!”

As much as Jack hates being wiped down with a baby wipe, he’s covered in icing and sticky, he doesn’t like that more. “When I get big,” Jack says, pausing as the baby wipe circles back around his mouth, “I’m gonna eat choc’late donuts everyday!”

“Everyday, huh?” Hotch tosses the dirty wipe back into the car and pulls out another, needing another to tackle the mess on Jack’s hands. “If you have it everyday then it’s not as fun when you get one.” 

“It’d be fun everyday.”

The last of the donut finally comes off and Hotch pushes off the car, standing. “Alright,” he pats Jack’s shoulder and leans back into the car, grabbing his bookbag. There’s not much of a point for this silly thing, it’s light as feather, but it is pretty cute. The bookbag is bigger than Jack is. “Here we go,” Hotch holds it and Jack slips his arms into the straps. “You want me to walk you in?”

“Yes!” Jack grabs Hotch’s hand and starts to pull.

“Alright.” His father had never walked him into school. If he had, Hotch doubts he would have grabbed his father’s hand so eagerly. It’s sort of strange, all of it is really. Half of him is certain that he has no idea what he’s doing, and the other half is bewildered that whatever he’s doing isn’t as bad as what was done to him. He has only the one reference, one thing to compare it to and it’s not very comparable. 

They get to the door and Jack lets go, running, “bye! Love you!”

“I love you.” 

Jack waves at the door and keeps going. 

Already knowing what’s waiting for him at the office, Hotch stands and watches Jack until he can’t see him any longer. He feels immense guilt everytime he leaves Jack but it’s not enough to stop him from going and he’s not sure what that means. If that makes him bad at all this. Bad at being a dad. 

Jack hates it. He thinks it’s really cool most of the time. He likes that his dad fights bad guys, he loves superheroes, but he’s coming to realize what that really entails. Now the superhero movies aren’t always that great. Superman gets beamed out of the sky. Batman collapses in an alleyway. Captain America is intombed in ice. The bad guys win sometimes, and Jack knows that, but the heroes, sometimes they die. They get up bloodied and limping, and sometimes they don’t get up at all. 

“He’s in Georgia,” Jess says, “he’ll be home in a few days.” 

Jack erases what he has down on his homework.

Jess watches him, “you’re going to end up with a hole in that paper if you keep erasing it like that.” 

Jack sighs, his head resting on his palm. His work isn’t wrong, Jack’s fairly certain he’s got the right answer, but it’s still not right. Not right enough. 

He hates Mondays. 

He hates when Jess picks him up from school because that means his dad’s already somewhere else. 

Tuesday somehow way worse than Monday. 

“You’re grumpy this morning,” Jess notes and Jack ignores her. She’s used to this treatment in the early morning. Hotch isn’t much of morning person either but more so, Jack just has better mornings with Hotch. He doesn’t want Jess to walk him in and even though she’s bargained a Pop-tart this morning in a small attempt to lift his mood, Jack sulks into the school. 

The PA system is very active and Jack hates it. The class falls to dead silence, fidgety excitement passed around while they cross their fingers in the hopes that it will be them who gets to go home early. But Jack’s heart pounds in his chest, terrified from the second that speaker dings with the incoming message. 

When his father is in Virginia, Jack anticipates along with his peers, joyously for the rush of being pulled from school early. If the chance presents itself, Hotch swings by to get Jack. Every year, at the very least twice, Hotch randomly pulls Jack out and they go to museums or the zoo or the park or wherever Jack’s been itching to go.

But if his dad isn’t in Virgina then there’s no good reason that Jack will be called to the office. He’s never been called to the office while Hotch isn’t in the state, but the day that he is, Jack knows it won’t be for the dentist or a doctor’s appointment like the other students. Maybe Uncle Dave would be there or maybe Miss Emily, but Aunt Jess would be. They’d meet him in the hall, the principal somber-faced, their eyes red from crying. And Jack will stand trapped, like the insects frozen in their amber shells lining his dresser. A mosquito, a beetle, and Jack – caught in their fossilized crystal moments. The day that their worlds cease movement, hazed over, and hardened. 

Jess’s phone pings on the counter and Jack looks up from his homework, watching Jessica’s face when she leans over from the pot she’s stirring on the stove to read it. “Dad says they’re on their way home,” she says. She turns over her shoulder to smile at Jack, “You finish up your homework and he might be here before you go to bed.” Jack doesn’t react so she tries to sweeten the bargain, “we can wait up for him.” 

Jack nods. He’d been too distracted to complete any of his work today. There was a vocab test today and Jack had only written down four of the ten words read out to him. The addition and subtraction worksheet slid in front of him liquified, black ink pooled to the surface, and floated around the page. It seemed every few seconds the class was being interrupted by the office calling down. Jack couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe. All he could do was sit and stare down at the worksheets in front of him.

Jessica’s noticed something is off with Jack and she’s tried to worm it out of him, but he doesn’t seem very interested in having that conversation with her. Her imagination has taken hold of the situation just a bit, and she fears the issue is another bully. She’d grown up beside Hotch, she’d known him at the age that Jack now is. She seems to be the only one of them capable of seeing exactly how much Jack is like Hotch. He reminds her exactly of Hotch at this age, so quiet and observant. She’ll say something to Hotch when he gets home, he’s far more successful at working out what’s going on in Jack’s head. 

“Alright,” Jess announces, “this soup is just about done, I’m gonna–” Her phone cuts her off and Jess leans over, seeing who’s calling her. She picks the phone up and takes it with her, heading back towards the guest room as she tells Jack to finish his homework, and that she’ll be out in a moment. 

Jack knows this routine. 

Jess becomes suddenly elusive, distracted. She lets him play in the bathtub until he gets bored of it. The phone rings again and she leaves him to get dressed by himself. Jack doesn’t dry off, he steps right into his pajamas, and he sneaks his way back into the kitchen, crouching down behind the cabinets and listening to the phone call. 

“Why didn’t you go earlier?” Jess asks, her fingertips pressed to her mouth. “That’s serious Aaron–”

Jack’s own hand finds his mouth, his fingernails sucked inbetween sharp teeth as he starts to attempt to chew through. If Hotch were here he’d notice, he’d shoo Jack’s hand away. 

“You’re being stupid, what you’re saying is stupid. You can’t be an idiot like this anymore – ” Jess suddenly becomes conscious of Jack, and where he is. She thinks he’s in the bathroom but still close enough to hear. She takes a deep breath and pushes herself from where she’d sunken against the counter, letting granite bite into her back and hold her upright. “Jack thinks you’re coming home tonight–” Her face scrunches up, “no, no you should definitely stay there–” 

Jack presses his hands against his ears and tries his best to not hear anymore, but he can so he stands and walks into the kitchen. 

“Hey Jack,” Jess says loudly into the phone, jumping, as she pulls the phone away from her face. Her face relaxes a bit, or at least she tries to relax it.  “I’m on the phone with your dad, go get up in the bed and he’ll tell you goodnight alright?” The phone stays down and Jack’s itching to know what they’ll say when he’s gone. But Jess prods him along and he leaves. 

They stay on the phone forever – twenty minutes, Jack watches his alarm clock. Jess never brings him the phone.

Hotch doesn’t come home for another two hours, past Jack’s bedtime but he’s still awake. The front door opens and Jack sits up in bed, listening for who it is. He can hear Derek and Jess from his room, but not a word from his dad. Fear encourages Jack out of bed, carefully venturing to the door so he can press his ear to it. He holds his breath, trying to make as little noise as possible. His fear builds on itself in the silence, and as they begin moving towards the hall, closer to him, it suddenly occurs to him that they might be coming back to his room. And if they do it’s only to tell him that his father isn’t coming home at all.

He’s wrong. They continue past his room. The sound of feet dragging on the carpet as Derek and Jess’ hushed voices carry overtop one another. Jack hears the slow groan of his father’s mattress – a familiar sound. One that would wake Jack in the middle of the night, a small sign of life in the middle of the night. A safety coveted. 

The sound was a relief and yet a burden, a weight that settled stiff and hard across Jack’s shoulders. Made his nerves jumpy – a wrong feeling he couldn’t begin to convey. Though he’d tried to before and he would again. Complaining of a headache or stomach ache. Unsure of the remedy or even the ailment that was plaguing him. 

And it plagues him now, a strong curl of writhing unease as Jack pushes his bedroom door open. The hall is dark and Derek and Jess have taken their conversation back to the kitchen. Jack glances once over his shoulder at them and creeps down the hall towards his father’s room. 

There is none of the snoring that Jack’s familiar with coming from this room. Only soft breathing. Jack creeps around the bed, to the side of the mattress most frequently left empty. It is empty save for his father’s left hand stretched out from the rest of him, uncovered by the blanket. Jack pulls himself up onto the bed. Holds tight to the bedsheets and jumps, he’d learned that trick a long time ago. His mother’s death had hardened Hotch irreparably, but as far as the man Jack knows, he is still just as soft as before – he remains incapable of forcing Jack to go back to his own bed to sleep at night. 

Curling tight, Jack pulls his knees up to his chest, pressing himself into the terrible feeling taking over him. But the bed is soft, so much better than his own.

“Jess?”

Jack jumps, startled by the sudden depth of the voice coming from what he had thought was his dad. He peeks up a little, just for visual confirmation, but it’s too dark.

Hotch pushes himself up on one arm, only able to combat the pain through the undeniable and just familiar enough feeling of knowing he’s going to be sick. Unaware of his audience, Hotch grunts, and whimpers, hanging onto the edge of the bed as everything sways and pitches forward with him. He pants for a moment, trying to gather himself enough to stand. His legs shake beneath him, and more than walking, Hotch lurches forward on momentum and gravity, falling heavily into the bathroom’s doorway, using it to keep himself upright. 

Jack can’t see through the dark but he can hear how hard Hotch hits the bathroom floor. The way his fingers miss and grapple with the toilet lit, until inevitably, and right on time, his stomach curls up tight, and he gags but is unable to bring anything up.

At first, frozen, Jack scrambles over the side of the bed. His legs get caught in the bedding and he lands with a thud on the ground, but he feels only a small ache over the panic ramping his heart back up. “Daddy!”

Hotch gags harshly into the toilet again and he raises his arm up uselessly, trying to shoo Jack away. He can see through the visible pulse now of his vision, which has tunneled in, darkened in spots, timed perfectly with the throb in his head, that Jack is still standing, watching. “Jack–” his voice is wrecked, nothing more than cracks. “Buddy,” Hotch tries again, “go get Jess.” 

Jack stands, shaking slightly with fear, trying to suck his tears back up.

Resting his head on the toilet, sinking to a new low, Hotch groans, a sound artfully echoed in the bowl. “Buddy,” Hotch coughs, “I need you to go get Jess.” His eyes close on their own accord and each breath is a manual thought, harshly pulled in through his open mouth, as drool spills down into the water below. “Please,” he rasps.

Blood rushes in his ears. He’s not sure what’s going to happen next but Hotch thinks this will kill him. The pain is certainly ramping up to a deadly point, like somethings burst and blood should be spilling out of his ears, or out his nose. Something’s got to give, and if it’ll stop this pain, Hotch doesn't care what it is. 

“Aaron?” He’s still leaning on the toilet and as Jess cuts on the bathroom light, he has no reaction. “Jack,” Jess crouches down in front of Hotch, and points Jack away. “Go get Uncle Morgan! Run! Go get him!” 

Jack freezes for only a moment before bolting, he runs as fast as his legs can carry him. He throws the door open and looks both ways down the hall before running towards the main entrance. He’s barefoot and it’s strange, he’s never been allowed to run down the hall, and he’s always wanted to, it’s not as fun this way. “Uncle Morgan!” Jack yells, he can see the older man on the other side of the building’s door, he’s just stepped out. “ Wait! Please, wait! Uncle Morgan!”

Morgan turns and when he sees Jack running towards him, he immediately turns back around, meeting the boy halfway. Jack grabs his wrist and starts pulling him back. “Something’s wrong with daddy,” he rushes, out of breath. “Jess said to come get you ‘cause –.”

Morgan takes off running, Jack somewhere close behind. He doesn’t bother looking back, going straight through the living room and shouting, “Jess?” Her calls from down the hall and Morgan follows, running through Hotch’s room to the bathroom. “What is it?”

Jess stands and moves back, “he passed out. I can’t wake him up.” 

Morgan moves quickly, stepping over Hotch and getting behind him. He slips his arm behind Hotch’s back, gently moving his head back, crouhcing lower, Morgan looks back up. “Go get the kid some shoes, I’ll get Hotch in the car.” With a grunt, he starts to lift Hotch from the floor, painfully careful of his head as Morgan tries not to jostle him. 

Over Jess’ shoulder, where she’s bent down shoving Jack’s feet into his sneakers, Jack watches Morgan carry Hotch out of the apartment. One of his arms is on the other side of Morgan’s back, limp and rocking with the motion of Morgan’s quick pace. 

“Is he dead?” Jack asks. He stands beside Jess as she grabs her own shoes, waiting for her to grab him too and lug him out of the door. 

“No.” This answer comes a little too quickly, not assuring, just positive. Unwilling. Hotch isn’t dead because Jess won’t let him. So, no. He’s not and he won’t until he’s good and old and Jess decides she’s done with him. 

Jack climbs into the backseat and Jess reaches over to buckle him in, before sliding into the middle seat and sitting up between Morgan and Hotch. Who looks dead, Jack thinks. He’s not exactly sure what that would look like, but Hotch isn’t moving. His head remains tipped back in the space between the door and the headrest. He’s not sitting up, he’s tilted and shoved into the chair the way that Morgan had left him. He doesn’t have his seatbelt on either and he doesn’t look back to check for himself that Jack’s buckled in.  

Morgan speeds and Jack watches the dark world outside whip by. 

What does happen if Hotch dies? Jack doesn’t like the idea. He can hardly remember now how his mother died, and though he knows it’s something that happens, he can’t imagine it could happen again. 

Jess scoops him out of his carseat and Jack lets her hold him. Over her shoulder, he watches Morgan throw open the passenger seat and stick his arms underneath Hotch’s knees and behind his shoulders. It’s not impressive, Jack can’t understand it, really. It doesn’t feel like this is real, or that the man limply held in Morgan’s arms is his father. He’s certainly someone, but… Jack’s dad? He’s not really sure how it’s possible at all. 

Jess runs straight through the doors, towards the first nurse that she sees. “My brother,” she says, turning back and watching the automatic slide shut. Morgan’s still in the parking lot. “He’s a federal agent, he was in an accident, he hit his head and he passed out–” 

The nurse sees Morgan, he sees the man being carried through the parking lot. 

Jess steps back and away, a stretcher procured and now being pulled to meet them as they come through the door. Jack turns with her, his eyes never leave Morgan, never leaving his father. There’s not a thing he can do to help but looking, being witness, feels important. He feels unable to look away, like he shouldn’t, so he can’t. 

“What’re they doing?” he asks, and he’s suddenly anxious, his brain putting together what happens next before he really knows. He tries to pull himself up over Jess’ shoulder, trying to see. “Aunt Jess, what’re they doing? Where’s daddy going?” Jack tries to push himself back, worm back out of Jess’ arms. He becomes suddenly frantic watching as Morgan meets the stretcher, not thinking twice as other men and women surround them. “No!” Jack shouts, “no, daddy! Get away from him! No!” He twists and jerks, trying to throw himself out of Jessica’s arms. “No!”

Hotch’s hand jerks on the stretcher and the elelastic of the oxygen mask slips over his head, the plastic fogging and muffling the weak but present sound that Hotch makes. A nurse comes around to his side, flashing a light, and again he emits the sound, his hand jerking up from the stretcher. “Sir? Can you hear me?” 

Hotch tries to sit up and Jack yells louder for him, only encouraging him further. Morgan steps inbetween them, taking Jack from where Jess can hardly hold him, pinning his arms down as he blindly throws his fist in any direction, trying to jerk, hit, and kick his way back to his father. “You can’t go back there,” Morgan says, but Jack keeps yelling, twisting his shoulders but unable to free his arms. He can see them pushing the stretcher back into a room, he can see his father’s head lifting, turning. “The doctor’s are going to take care of him, Jack. You can’t go back there.”

The door shuts and Jack continues crying but he slumps, smacking his head against Morgan’s shoulder. His face pressed into the fabric of Morgan’s shirt he sobs, his fist gathering handfuls of shirt. The fighting eventually subsides, more violent sobs take over and Jack screams, he cries as loudly as he can into Morgan’s shoulder. 

He cries himself to sleep in Morgan’s arms. 

“What the hell happened?” Jess whispers. She’s managed to wipe the tears from her face, and dislodged the ache in her throat, but her chest is still tight. A band of tension across her ribs. “How did this happen?”

Morgan looks down at Jack. His nose stuffy from crying, his face still wet and eyes puffy. He shakes his head, “I can’t–”

It’s well past her bedtime. This medical emergency is impeding on the sleep she needs to be the fun, cool aunt. No sleep means the jolly good Aunt Jess is not in the building. “Derek, I promise you, if you try and pull some ‘FBI secrets’ on me, I’ll punch you.”

Morgan huffs and moves his arm up, rubbing his fingers over his mouth. “Alright,” Morgan sighs. He distracts himself by rubbing Jack’s back, even though his shoulder is growing progressively wetter from drool, and tears. “In Georgia–”

“I know you were in Georgia.”

Derek cocks an eyebrow up, “you gonna let me finish?” He sighs and licks his lip, “our vehicle was hit. I was driving and his side… His side took the brunt of the hit.” He looks at Jessica, “I could hardly get him to sit still for the EMTs. I let him – I mean, he’s Hotch, you know, you can’t make him do nothing he don’t want to. So we left, we left the ambulance, and I tried to get him to go to the hospital, after – after we got the guy, but he’s stubborn. He was more worried that Prentiss got checked out, and she did, but the EMT said it was just a concussion so he didn’t think it was that bad.” Morgan shakes his head, sighing, “I took him to the hospital, had to trick him for that, but I couldn’t make him stay. So…”

Jess curses softly, leaning down and placing her head in her hands. After a moment, she sits back up, pushing her hair back up out of her face. She looks at Derek with the heat earlier dissipating, slowly being replaced by something sadder. “Tell me that he was at least… I don’t know, that there was a good reason or something.”

Morgan shakes his head, “no, he’s just…”

“A stubborn asshole?” Jess giggles and Morgan huffs, nodding, and chuckling along with her.

“A very stubborn asshole,” he agrees. Jack shifts, sighing in his sleep and adjusting his head on Morgan’s shoulder, and Morgan’s face falls. He clears his throat. “We were… The victim, the victims, they were… just little kids. When we crashed, we were chasing the unsub.” Morgan looks back over at Jess, “he had a boy in the car. Seven. Hotch, he lost consciousness for only a minute, and he got right back up. He was – he wasn’t gonna let that son of bitch kill that kid.” 

Jess nods, looking down at the floor. “Did you get him?”

Morgan nods, and his smile half tugs up. “Hotch did. Cuffed him himself.” 

“Good.”

It was good. When it happened it felt good, things felt over, it felt like a win. Prentiss needed a few stitches but she was fine enough to be angry with Hotch too. Morgan hadn’t pushed that hard for Hotch to get really checked out. He was exhausted, and by the time he and Hotch got to the hospital, Prentiss was done, waiting for discharge papers, and at that point if Morgan really pushed for it, they all would have been stuck in that hospital for several more hours. 

“I should have made him get checked out.”

Jess shrugs, “you said it, you know? He won’t do anything he doesn’t want to.” 

“Yeah, I guess.” Holding Jack does nothing for his guilt. Morgan should have picked a fight, he’s never shied away from confrontation with Hotch before. But today he didn’t. “He just wanted to get home.”

They sit in the waiting room with nothing more to say. The hours of the night tick by and Morgan only grows more frustrated with himself. He’d skipped out on something important to rush home, and now he’s sitting in a hospital anyway. If he hadn’t been in such a rush, if he hadn’t let his exhaustion guide him, he wouldn’t have been so careless. 

It’s late, early morning by then, when a doctor comes out. Jess is resting her eyes and Morgan’s no longer tired. They peel themselves up from the chairs and follow where they’re directed. After being seated out in the waiting room for so long, they sludge back to room, relieved to at least be reunited. 

“Hey,” Jess goes right to the bed, watching Hotch’s half-lidded eyes track them. He blinks languidly and she smiles down at him, kissing the top of his head. “You scared me.”

“Mmm,” his head rocks over, “wasn’t thinkin’ straight, ‘m sorry.” 

She frowns at him but he can feel her cold fingers over his wrist as she gently picks up his hand. She sighs and rolls her eyes, “stop looking at me with your stupid eyes.” She tries to frown but it only maintains for a few seconds, “ I mean it. I’m mad at you.” 

The right half of his lip twitches up and he slowly rolls his head over to the left, “Jack?”

Morgan turns, showing Hotch the boy still out like light in his arms. “Kid’s slobered down my back,” he smirks, coming closer to the edge of the bed. 

Hotch’s hand trembles as he raises it up, the IV on the back of his hand preventing it from coming any higher off the bed. “Let me see him,” he asks, and he watches Morgan’s eyes dart over him, to Jessica he presumes. “Please, Morgan.” 

They’d raced home for this little boy and the please cracks right through to his heart. “I’m gonna lay him down here,” Morgan says. Unwrapping Jack’s arms from around him, Morgan leans down and gently lays Jack down on the end of the bed. Hotch inhales sharply as Morgan lays Jack down, the tips of his fingers grazing the ends of Jack’s hair. “Is that okay? You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Hotch sighs but any ice in his tone decipates, as Jack stretches and rolls onto his side, wrapping his arm over Hotch’s leg, and pressing his face into Hotch’s knee. 

“You’re not fine,” Jess says. “You were in a car accident, you fractured your skull. You have broken ribs.”

“Cracked,” Hotch rasps and he means to turn to look at her but pain spikes through his head. “They’re just cracked,” he whispers, through clenched teeth. He presses his lips tightly together and tries to contain himself but it only increases, like a great pressure, a weight laid on his head. 

“I’m gonna–” Morgan stands, and motions to the door. 

Jess nods her encouragement for his unspoken train of thought, scooting closer to the bed, and holding firmer onto Hotch’s hand. “Are you in pain?” she asks.

Hotch releases the breath he’d been holding, pulling in laborious breathes a little too quickly. “A little,” he relents.

“A little? You look like you’re gonna pass out.”

“I think I might.”

Jessica squeezes his hand, “Morgan’s getting nurse. Just hold on, okay?”

He tries to tell her that he heard that, he definitely understood, but his reply is cut short. Words are jumbled and all that comes out of his mouth a moan, a groan that deepens and is cut off breathily. His head tips to the side and Jess stands, leaning over him. “Aaron?” she can see his eyelashes move, “the nurse is coming.”

“I know,” he rasps, “my head–”

A nurse steps in, Morgan hot on his heels. “Morning, Agent Hotchner,” he greets, “I was just on my way to you.” He smiles down at the sleeping boy on the bed, “good to see you with some visitors. This the little guy you were worried about last night?” The nurse steps to the head of the bed, eyes flicking around, his attention eventually narrows to the IVs leading down. “Can you rate your pain, Agent? On a scale of one to ten?”

Hotch grunts, trying and failing to lift his head from the pillows. It listly slides to the side, his face has gone ashy, “seven.”

“Defintiely not an seven,” Jess says, she’s moved back from the bed, crossed her arms. “He said he felt like he was going to pass out.” 

“Thought,” Hotch grunts, his voice is a harsh whisper, “and I said might.” 

The nurse glances between them and continues with the task he started. 

“He has a high tolerance for pain,” Jess adds, “and a tendency to embellish the truth when it comes to… these things.”

Morgan nods from the corner, “he’s definitely lying. He’s stubborn.”

Hotch grunts but he can’t think to speak, he can hardly think to hear. Cold, gloved fingers touch him but something colder starts to creep up his arm, and then quickly he feels warm, very warm. “Nnm,” he rasps, his head feels less like something’s splitting it open, and more like hallow space between his ears, a vast, empty hallow place.  

“There really shouldn’t be so many people back here,” the nurse says. Pain treated, he can move on to the other things. “Can you step out for a moment into the hall, for a moment? I’ll collect you when I’m done.”

Eyes closed, breathing evened out, Hotch’s hand twitches. He drags his eyes open, trying to force focus out of his blurry eyes. “They can stay,” his speech has slowed, his voice softened. “Hm,” he turns slightly, “not Morgan.” He squints at who he’s fairly certain is Morgan and grumbles, “traitor.”

“What?” Morgan huffs, “Man– Nah, nevermind, you know what, I don’t wanna see you in your skivvies anyway.” 

Hotch smirks, “don’t think I’m wearing any.” He points to the nurse, “you take ‘em?”

The nurse chuckles, “I didn’t and you’re not.” 

Morgan leaves quickly, not eager to find out anymore than he’s already been told. 

Jess steps back away, stuck in a middle ground between watching what the nurse does and looking away to avoid seeing what she doesn’t want to. The nurse presses around his ribs and Hotch gasps, grunting – it’s not pain, but his body is still somehow aware this pressure isn’t right, that is should be painful. Somehow it’s still equally unpleasant. He jerks, his leg moving with it, and Jack immediately sits up. Sleep clings to the corners of his eye and as his tired brain process the information before him, Jess steps around, lifting Jack from the bed and moving him to the side. 

She tries to move herself between them. Hotch’s gown is open, the blanket across his lap preserves modesty, but doesn’t do much hide the scars across his chest, certainly doesn’t cover the black and blue bruises up his side. But Jack rubs his eyes, and stretches, pushing himself down out of the chair. “Daddy?”

Hotch bats the nurses hand away, turning his head and pushing his hand off the side of the bed. “Hey buddy,” his eyes are getting harder to force open. 

Jack ignores Jess’ request for him to come sit down, taking Hotch’s hand and folding himself up over the bed, lifting up on the top of his toes. He lays his head down and Hotch brushes his fingers through Jack’s hair, trying to tame the unruly strands. Jack reaches up, turning Hotch’s hand over and inspecting the IV taped down. “Are you okay?” 

Hotch tries to think of something but the mush inbetween his ears procures not a single intelligible thing. Reflexively, his hand goes back to Jack’s to hair, something else, not located in his head, guiding him back. 

“You remember what I said about wearing a helmet?” Jess asks, she stands behind him. 

Jack turns his head to look at Jess and puts his hand ontop of Hotch’s, “helmets are to protect my head. So I don’t crack it open.” 

“Yeah,” she agrees, “daddy wasn’t wearing his helmet–”

Jack stands, and with grave concern he asks, “did your brain come out of your ear?”

Hotch cocks an eyebrow up and looks over at the nurse. 

“No,” he says once he realizes the questions been deferred to him. “Your dad’s brain is still sitting snug where it should be.”

Jack narrows his eyes and looks over to Jess, “but Uncle Morgan said that’s what would happen. How come then?”

“Well,” Jess struggles for a moment. 

“Uncle Morgan’s not a doctor,” Hotch mumbles, “neither is your Uncle Reid but he’s always trying to argue otherwise.” 

“But he is a doctor,” Jack argues and he stands back up on his toes to lean back into Hotch’s hand. “Uncle Reid is a real doctor, he told me so.” 

“Mm-mm,” Hotch’s eyes close, and it takes him a long moment to force them back open, “math, chemistry and engineering.” He counts them off with his fingers and then they fall back to rest on Jack’s head. “No, ugh, biology? Anatomy? Whatever doctor’s study.” He glances at the nurse from the corner of his eye, and slurs, “’m a lawyer.”

“You’re a profiler,” Jess corrects. 

“Mm,” Hotch agrees, his eyes closed, “yeah, a profiler.” 

“You’re silly, daddy,” Jack giggles.

Hotch smirks and he manages to crack his eyes open to slivers, “you think so?”

“Uh-huh.” Jack turns back to Jess, “can I get up?”

“Yeah,” Hotch rasps.

Jess sighs and looks to the nurse, he nods his head. “I’m done here, for now. If you need anything, use the call button.” 

She’s adamant about it, but Jack kicks his foot up on bed, trying to get up himself. So she picks him up and puts him back on the bed. “Gentle,” she reminds him and Jack carefully crawls up closer and lays down. 

He curls onto his side, reaches up, “you've got scratchies.” Jack rubs the side of Hotch’s face, frowning at the feeling of his unshaved skin. “I don’t like it.”

Hotch turns his head towards Jack, his chin over the top of his head. “ ‘m sorry.”

Jess leans over, smoothing down some of Jack’s hair, “dad needs to get some sleep, alright?”

Jack nods.

“ ‘m not.” 

“You are,” Jess softy says. “Stop fighting it, just rest.”

Jack moves a little closer and falls still, but between his fingers he rubs the material of the gown now closed back over Hotch’s chest. 

Hotch tries to fight it but there’s not much fighting to it. At least his head doesn’t hurt, and he’s home. More or less. He’d rather be home but Jack’s here, and Jack’s safe, and nothing else matters.

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #derek morgan #criminal minds fanfiction #jessica brooks #jack hotchner

[thelastspeecher]

Foster Ford AU prompt: little Ford interacting with Shermie? Alternately, him interacting with a Mcgucket sibling.

I went a bit nuts writing this. It's so much longer than I planned, but I just had to put in as much Quality Shermie Content as I could. Enjoy.

———————————————————————————————————–

              “Hey, Ford.”  Ford looked up from the catnip mouse he was using to play with Dr. Whiskers.  Stan stood before him, grinning.  “Wanna go get donuts?”  Immediately, Ford’s stomach rumbled.  Stan laughed.  “I’ll take that as a yes.”  Ford stood and threw the catnip mouse.  Dr. Whiskers pounced on it eagerly, tail twitching with excitement.

              “Is Aunt Angie coming with us?” he asked, following Stan to the front door.  Stan shook his head.

              “She’s got to work on her thesis.  But we’ll bring her a donut back,” Stan said.  Ford nodded.  “Need help with your shoes?”

              “They’re Velcro, so, no,” Ford mumbled, slipping on his sneakers.  To his dismay, he was struggling with tying shoes properly, which led to favoring those without laces until his coordination became better.

              “All right.  If you ever wanna wear the ones you’ve gotta tie, I’ll help you,” Stan said.  “Ford and I are heading out, Ang!” he called.

              “Have fun!” Angie shouted back from the study she was working in.  Stan held the door open for Ford.  The two exited the house.  Ford went to the Stanleymobile, but Stan shook his head.

              “Nah, we’re not driving there,” he said.  “There’s a great kosher bakery just around the corner.  We’re gonna walk.”

              “Oh.  Okay.”  Ford went back to Stan’s side.  Stan raised an eyebrow at him.  Reluctantly, Ford held out his hand for Stan to hold.  The two then began to walk down the street.  Stan and Angie lived in a much nicer neighborhood than the one Stan and Ford grew up in.  The houses were tidy, the yards had picket fences, and there wasn’t a sickening smell when the wind blew just right.  Stan nodded at various neighbors, asking how they were doing.

              “I don’t really care much about these bozos,” Stan whispered to Ford after making light conversation with a middle-aged woman.  “Most of them are pretty boring.  But it’s always a good idea to make friends with your neighbors.  You offer them help when they need it, then they’ll help you when you need it.”  Ford nodded silently.  “Angie tells me that I should be helping out of the goodness of my heart, not for my own gain.  But we just had to agree to disagree on that one.”  Ford giggled.  Stan grinned.

              They turned a corner and were promptly on a street lined with small businesses.  Ford looked around, curious about the stores he hadn’t realized were so close by.

              Then again, I’ve only been living with Stan and Angie for a few days.  I haven’t had much time to explore, particularly because Stan and Angie have been keeping me close to home while I “adjust”.  They arrived in front of a bakery.  A sign in the window proclaimed that everything inside was kosher.  Ford looked up at Stan curiously, remembering how he had specifically mentioned that at home.

              “Do you keep kosher?” he asked.  Stan looked down at him, seeming surprised.

              Oh.  Right.  My first foster family was Christian and didn’t do much for me when I said I was Jewish.  He probably didn’t expect me to remember much terminology.

              “Uh.  No.  Not really.”  Stan rubbed the back of his neck.  “You remember some stuff about your dad, right?”  Ford nodded.  “Did he keep kosher?”

              “…No.”

              “Okay.  Good.  I mean, if your dad wanted that for you, Angie and I would do it, but it can be a lotta work.  Especially since I gave up on that as soon as I could and Angie’s Catholic.”  Stan managed a weak smile.  “But the donuts here are the best in town.  Also, we’re meeting someone who does keep kosher.”

              “Who?” Ford asked.  Stan pushed open the door.  The bell over the door jingled merrily.  Ford walked inside.  He swallowed nervously when he saw the man sitting at a nearby table.

              “You’re gonna meet your Uncle Shermie!” Stan said cheerfully.  Shermie got up from the table and walked over to them.  Ford quickly hid behind Stan’s legs.  “Aw, c’mon, kid, he’s not scary!”

              I don’t know if I can face anyone else from my past like this.

              “Maybe this was a bad idea,” Shermie said.  Stan shook his head.

              “No, it’s fine.  He’s just kinda shy.”  He looked down at Ford.  “Trust me, kid.  Your Uncle Shermie’s a good guy.”  Ford remained silent.  “Wanna get a donut?”

              “Yes, please,” Ford mumbled.  He followed Stan to the counter.  Stan ruffled his hair.

              “I know you’re a bit nervous about meeting Shermie, but don’t worry.  You know how I’m taking care of you because your dad can’t?”  Ford nodded.  “Well, Shermie took care of me when my dad wouldn’t.  He did the same thing for me that I’m doing for you.”

              “I guess that’s a good point,” Ford mumbled.  He closed his eyes.

              I’m here now, I just have to deal with it.  I don’t have to engage in any conversation.  I can just stay quiet and eat my donut.  Hopefully, Shermie will be the only other person from my past that I have to encounter.  Ford knew that Stan had completely cut contact with their parents, so the likelihood he’d have to deal with Caryn or Filbrick was negligible.

              “Whattaya want?” Stan asked.  Ford pressed his face against the glass display, taking in the options laid out before him.  A strange sense of nostalgia washed over him.  They had grown up down the street from a kosher bakery, and as such, this was far from the first time he had perused fresh donuts with Stan.  He looked over and up at his twin brother.

              But this is the first time this has happened with us twenty years apart in age.  Stan smiled at him.

              “Know what you want?” he asked.  Ford looked back at the donuts.

              “Blueberry sprinkle,” he said, pointing.  Stan nodded.

              “Good choice.”  He looked at the young woman manning the register.  “You heard the man, Carly.”  The woman, Carly, giggled.  “And I’ll take my usual.”

              “Blueberry sprinkle and triple chocolate coming right up!” Carly said cheerfully.  She grabbed the donuts for Stan.  Stan handed over the cash.  “So, who’s the kid?”

              “My nephew, Ford.”  Stan patted Ford’s head.  “My twin, his dad, he, uh, he can’t take care of Ford right now, so he’s living with me and Angie for a while.”

              “How long?” Carly asked.  She gave Stan his change, which he tucked into his wallet.

              “However long he needs to stay with us,” Stan said vaguely.  Carly nodded, picking up on the hint that Stan didn’t want to talk about it.               “What about Aunt Angie’s donut?” Ford asked.

              “We’ll grab it on our way out,” Stan said.  “Fresher that way.”  Ford frowned.

              I’m not sure if that’s true, but it’s not worth it to disagree.  With their donuts in hand, Stan and Ford headed back to the table.  Stan waited until Ford climbed onto his chair, then sat down on his own.  Shermie smiled at Ford.

              “So, Ford, tell me about yourself,” Shermie said.  Ford looked down at his donut.

              “Like what?” he mumbled, picking at his treat.

              “Well, what do you like to do?”

              “Um.  Read.”

              “What sort of things do you like to read?”

              “Anything,” Ford said with a shrug.  Stan snickered quietly.

              “Anything except what a kid his age would normally read,” he corrected.  “I’ve caught Ford going through Angie’s biology textbooks.”

              “Really?” Shermie asked.  “…Do you understand the things in Angie’s textbooks, Ford?”

              “A bit,” Ford mumbled.

              Just about all of it.  But most kindergarteners wouldn’t.  Ford pulled off a chunk of his donut and popped it into his mouth.  I’m not used to hiding my intelligence like this.  I can’t risk anyone being even more suspicious of me, though.

              “Wow!” Shermie said.  “You really are just as smart as your dad, aren’t you?”  Ford shrugged again.  “Other than reading, what do you like to do?”  Ford blinked.

              What do I like to do?  I haven’t had opportunities to do much since moving in with Stan and Angie.  He looked at Stan.  Stan smiled at him in the way one does when a child behaves in an endearing way.

              “You like playing with your LEGOs,” Stan prompted.  Ford nodded.

              “I do.”

              “LEGOs, huh?” Shermie asked.

              “Yeah.  One of Angie’s brothers has a kid about Ford’s age who’s a little genius, too,” Stan said.  “When we told him about Ford, he said we should get some LEGOs for him.  It was a good move.  Ford barely touches his other toys.”

              Yes, because the other toys are embarrassingly juvenile!  Ford couldn’t deny that some of the toys Stan and Angie had gotten for him were tempting, but he wouldn’t allow himself to be degraded to playing with them.  Of the options given to him, LEGOs were the best by far.  They weren’t just for children; Ford recalled his college roommate building things with LEGOs when he was bored.  I didn’t realize Angie had a brother who recommended them.  I owe him one.

              “I’ll keep that in mind for future gifts, then,” Shermie said, winking at Ford.  “When’s your birthday?”

              “April 22nd.”  It was a date with no significance to Ford.  By the time CPS asked about his birthday, he had realized he wouldn’t be able to convince anyone of who he was.  So he chose a random day off the calendar in the CPS official’s office, which had still been turned to the month of April.

              “April 22nd.  Got it.”  Shermie grabbed a napkin, pulled a pen out of his pocket, and scribbled it down.  “I’ll make sure to put it on the calendar.  Though I imagine I won’t forget, since your Uncle Stan and Aunt Angie will throw you an awesome birthday party.”

              Ugh.  Hopefully things will be different by then.  I don’t know if I can stomach being the center of attention at another children’s birthday party.  The party his foster parents threw for his fifth birthday had been brutal for Ford, though everyone else seemed to have a fantastic time.  Going to other children’s birthday parties was only marginally better.

              Thankfully, after that, Shermie and Stan picked up on Ford’s reluctance to talk and the conversation changed topics.  Ford listened silently to his brothers as he slowly ate his donut.  Shermie and Stan seemed to have a much closer bond than when they were younger, though Ford supposed that came about when Shermie took Stan in.  He wasn’t privy to the details.  As a teen and adult, he’d purposefully avoided any updates regarding Stan, and as a child, he wasn’t going to be told much about Stan being kicked out while still a minor.

              But Ford remembered the day Shermie found out what had happened to Stan.  Shermie had dropped by to visit and asked where Stan was.  When Caryn said he had been kicked out for ruining Ford’s science fair project, Shermie became irate and stormed out.  From what his mom had told him, Ford knew that Shermie found Stan living in the Stanleymobile and insisted Stan move in with him.  Not long after, Shermie got a job offer in California, so both he and Stan left.  Anything after that, Ford was learning for the first time.

              “You should take him to the coffee shop you met Angie at,” Shermie said.

              Stan and his wife met at a coffee shop?  How cliché.  Though, I must admit, also adorable.

              “I dunno.  He’s already tried to sneak coffee from us a few times.  Taking him to a coffee shop might be like an alcoholic going to a bar,” Stan replied.  Shermie frowned.

              “Mom did say that Ford was drinking a lot of coffee before he disappeared.  I wouldn’t be surprised if his son managed to sneak a few sips while he was distracted.”

              “That’s what Angie thinks.”

              “Speaking of Angie, have you taken him to her work yet?”

              “Not yet.  But we’re gonna go tomorrow.”

              “Excellent.”  Shermie smiled at Ford.  “Trust me, Ford, you’re going to love Angie’s work.”  Ford looked down at the crumbs on the table from his donut.

              “Where does she work?” he asked quietly.

              “It’s a surprise,” Stan said.  “But like Shermie said, you’re gonna love it.”  Shermie looked at his watch.

              “Shoot.  I’ve got to get going.”  Shermie stood up.  “I’m going to grab a few donuts for Amelia and Caleb.  Want to join me, Stan?  You had to grab one for Angie, right?”

              “Yeah.  She won’t be happy if I forget,” Stan said, getting up as well.  He looked at Ford.  “Stay here.  I’ll be right back.”  Ford nodded silently.  Stan and Shermie went back to the register.  Ford strained his hearing, trying to eavesdrop on his brothers.

              “I know you were worried about how well you’d be able to take care of Ford,” Shermie said to Stan.  “But from what I can tell, you’re doing great.”

              “Really?” Stan asked.

              “Definitely.  He trusts you enough to hide behind you and looks to you for help.  Those are good signs, particularly from a kid who’s been through difficult things like he has.”

              “Good.”  Stan sighed.  “He’s a great kid.  I just wish his actual dad was here to take care of him.”

              “Until they find him, you’re doing an amazing job,” Shermie said firmly.  “And I think it bodes well for when you and Angie start having kids of your own.”

              “We were originally gonna start trying pretty soon after Angie finishes school,” Stan said, “but we might put it off more if Ford’s still with us.”

              “I see,” Shermie replied.  “Don’t put your plans on hold for too long, though.  You two deserve to start a family.”  Ford stopped listening.  Guilt suddenly squirmed in his gut.

              Stan’s wanted to be a dad since we were kids.  But he’s willing to wait for me?  Ford swallowed.  No.  It’s all right.  By the time Angie graduates, surely I’ll be my proper age again.  The guilt didn’t go away, however.  If anything, it got worse.  The conversation Stan and Shermie had, where they referenced living together after Stan was kicked out, was replaying in Ford’s mind.  If Shermie hadn’t taken Stan in, what would have happened to him?  Nothing good.  He was a teenager living in his car!  Stan and Shermie walked back to the table.

              “We gotta head back, Ford,” Stan said.  “Angie’s gonna die of starvation if we don’t bring her a donut.”  Ford managed a weak smile and slid off his chair.  Shermie crouched down to Ford’s eye height.

              “It was nice to meet you, Ford,” Shermie said.  Ford impulsively threw his arms around Shermie, hugging as tightly as he could.  Shermie, though visibly confused, returned the gesture.

              “Thanks for taking care of Uncle Stan,” he mumbled.

              “Family’s gotta help each other out,” Shermie said simply.  He squeezed Ford.  “That’s why Uncle Stan is taking care of you, now.”  He stood up.  “Don’t forget about the offer to babysit, Stan.  I’d love for Ford to meet Amelia and Caleb.”

              “We’ll let you know,” Stan said.  “Say hi to them for me.”

              “Say hi to Angie for me.”

              “Will do,” Stan said.  Shermie left.  Stan turned to Ford.  “I’ve got a very important job for you, okay?”

              “What?” Ford asked.  Stan held out the paper bag containing Angie’s donut.

              “Carrying Aunt Angie’s donut back home and giving it to her.  It’s a big deal, but I think you’re up to the task.  Are you?”

              “Of course,” Ford scoffed, taking the bag from Stan.  Stan grinned.

              “I knew you could handle it.  You’re a good kid, Ford.”  Ford smiled back at Stan.  As Stan took ahold of Ford’s free hand and led him out of the bakery, a new feeling bubbled to the surface.

              I feel…content.  Ford looked up at Stan, who was whistling off-key while they walked down the street.  For the first time in years, things between myself and my brothers aren’t complicated or difficult.  A mutinous thought crossed Ford’s mind.  When I tell Stan who I truly am, that’s going to change.  Do I really want to tell Stan the truth, and lose everything all over again?  Lose him all over again?

#Foster Ford AU #Stanford Pines #Stanley Pines #Sherman Pines #my writing #ask #darfichihrenhundstreicheln

[ask-the-achs]

Another DBX

YUJIRO HANMA VS PARADOX

BRUTALITY!

-----

Kourakuen Underground Arena. Midnight.

*two men were entered for a tournament as they were here for different reasons. One man was here for the 800 million yen prize. The other man was here because he was bored and wanted to see the newcomer who had apparently been defeating people left and right.*

Announcer:in this corner you love him! The strongest creation of God the man who makes nature his bitch! YUJIRO! HANMMA!

Announcer:and in this corner the challenger who believes he can hold a candle to---

*he was soon knocked out by of all things an empty Pepsi can flying at his face at the speed of sound.*

Paradox:Quit your shit. I ain't here for no damn title. ORGE! GET YOUR BITCH ASS OUT HERE! I KNOW WHO YOU ARE FUCKWIT!

*Yujiro soon came out with his aura rising. As he walked closer he caught an aroma. One of a strong man one of power as he looked at his bigger four armed foe he laughed as Paradox had rolled up in Velcro sneakers torn jeans and a button up Hawaiian shirt Yujiro was laughing at Paradox's fashion.*

Paradox:you going to start veiny?

*Yujiro stopped and looked at Paradox*

Yujiro:veiny? That's a new one.

Paradox:eh Roidhead was too simple.

Yujiro:you think I do steroids like a weakling?!

*As Yujiro got closer Paradox picked his nose and flicked it at him*

Paradox:you ain't denying it.

*Yujiro was throughly pissed at Paradox's lack of respect and his aura soon became so powerful it shook the arena and cracked the ground.*

Paradox:crybaby.

*Yujiro unamused soon Punched the bigger Einherjar into the wall behind him as Paradox stood up spitting up something.*

Paradox:hmm....seems that was my tooth. You're not half bad mate. Let's see you take this.

*Paradox soon gave a half assed kick which sent his opponent skidding across the ground.*

Paradox:not a dodger huh? You must be a slow fella.

Yujiro:*from behind* unlike you BOY I'm not rude!

*Paradox didn't get a chance to turn as Yujiro soon grabbed his ear and slammed him into the ground as Paradox stood Yujiro then gave him a sharp kick hard enough to knock him onto his back.*

Paradox:*Getting up.* you done?

*Yujiro looked at his foe roaring only to then jump in fear as Paradox swung his fist in a backhand which sent out a gust of air so hard it cut through the walls of the arena and hit several cars based on the alarm sounds.*

Paradox:...oops.

Yujiro:what the hell was that?

*Paradox shrugged and then kicked Yujiro in the nuts which made him fall back growling*

Yujiro:LOW....BLOW!!!!!!!

*Mad Yujiro put all his strength and rage into kicking Paradox hard enough Paradox's body recoiled as if he had been hit with the moon...again as he went flying through the building into Yujiro's luxury car.*

Yujiro:those fancy cars aren't good for shit. But they make a nice cushion.

Paradox:...ow.

*Paradox got up and threw the car at Yujiro and ran at him.*

*the Hanma soon picked his foe up and German suplexed him in the street his foe got up and threw the muscular man into a stop sign hard enough to warp it completely.*

Yujiro:you're not bad. Not bad.

*he then flexed in a way showing off his back which thanks to his muscles looked like a demons face as Yujiro laughed.*

Paradox:...nice. but...

*Paradox soon in an odd motion started punching himself and when he broke his own nose the pain and adrenaline from the broken nose had his eyes turn bloodshot as the veins in his eyes got redder and redder.*

Paradox:Your ass is FUCKING MINE!

*Paradox took one step. One step and Yujiro soon stuck two fingers into his head.*

Yujiro:careful. I might hurt you.

*Paradox grabbed the man's arm only for yujiro in one second rip Paradox's skin off his face and then throw it into the crowd where the other godkillers were he then saw the group and smiles.*

Yujiro:ooo..one of those women would give me a strong son..*he then saw his skin was brused and his arm was torn. Did...he get hurt?*

*Paradox got up with no more skin on his face and yanked both of Yujiro's ears off then gripped his legs hard enough to break his ankles he then threw the man into a nearby wall then while bleeding everywhere he slammed Yujiro in the ground and started dragging him face first down the street and threw him into a field unaware of the helicopters recording him and showing everyone what was happening*

Paradox:YOU ASS FUCK! ILL ROCK YOUR GODDAMN SHIT!

*Yujiro stood up and growled.*

Yujiro:ill show you the power of the Ogre.

*Yujiro soon charged full of power but also joy. This man this freak this thing! It was giving him the fight of his life! This was the one for his life!*

Paradox:Ogre? BITCH IM THE FUCKING APOCALYSE!

*Paradox completely done with this day charged at his foe only for Yujiro to hit him head on repeatedly and started sending him into a tree and kept wailing on him only for Paradox to kick him hard enough his leg when flying faster then a bullet into a deer hard enough to kill said deer.*

Yujiro:*Startled* what? How? When?

*Paradox soon then grabbed his wrists and spun him around with enough force to tear Yujiro's skin as he was thrown back into the arena...*

*50 miles away.*

*as the world's strongest groaned Paradox charged and slammed his shoulder into Yujiro with the Shockwave dislocating his joints and shattering every rib.*

Yujiro:*weakly* thank....you...warrior....

*Paradox threw Yujiro into the ceiling and then with one mighty uppercut full of rage and pain hit Yujiro hard enough his body for a lack of a better word...Exploded all over the arena.*

Paradox:....FUCK MY FACE HURTS LIKE SHIT!!!

*Paradox rolled over the ground as his body was regrowing his face as the announcer woke up.*

Announcer:what? Who? Who won?

Paradox:*with half his face.* I did...*snatches the mic.* JUST KNOW I KILLED YOUR WORLDS STRONGEST WITHOUT MUCH ISSUES. DONT FUCK WITH ME OR MY FRIENDS!...

*he then yelled into the mic to rub it in to further scare any and all challengers.*

Paradox:AND I DIDNT EVEN GO ALL OUT I DIDNT GIVE IT MY 100% SO DONT TRY ME!

*Paradox soon left yanked the suitcase with the prize money saw the amount did some math on the equivalent for him and started skipping down the street unknownly singing about all the things he'd buy for his lady Thrud*

Paradox: 🎶 A new dress a date of a lifetime makeup all the rings she wants a set of kimonos all the food for her diet and more! ♡♡♡🎵

THE WINNER IS PARADOX!

[curiositymemes]

DIRTY JOBS 2022 SENTENCE STARTERS.

taken from the 2022 revival of the 2005 discovery channel series. shenanigans and chaos ensue. feel free to change wording and pronouns and provide context as necessary. do not add to this list.    

You know what? I take it back. I do like to complain.

No. We come back tonight and kill them.

I’m kidding, of course. I almost never kill anyone.

You just wanna do it? Right now?

It’s all coming together... sort of. 

It’s all in a day’s work.

And that, my friend(s), does not suck. This, on the other hand...

You’re not nervous, are you, ___?

I’m not... Sure I’m nervous. Sure. Sure.

See, I’m doing something!

It’s like the sound of doom.

That really is ominous, man.

It’s not natural, is it?

Yes. This goes against the laws of God and man. 

I’d feel better without that iron bar up my ass, honestly.

Sounds simple, right? It’s not.

If it sounds difficult and complicated, it’s only because it is.

And by a lot easier, I mean, not easy at all.

Precision is the order of the day.

By no pressure... there’s a lot of pressure.

Can’t hear shit.

I’ve not been here, no.

I’m absolutely falling apart.

You know, I... I just... I wouldn’t say no.

She/he/they’ll tell you if she/he/they like you. Or if they don’t.

Why would it blow up?

Until you’re suddenly goin’ up like flashpaper.

And the odds of this exploding are very low?

But it could still happen?

Me and you, you and me. The two of us together. In the pit.

This is gonna be great, ___.

Boy, that just got weird, huh?

A lot of the time I say I got it, ___, but I don’t. 

I’m still not ready to talk about that, man.

I’ve hit my head lots of times over the years.

I didn’t expect that one there.

Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition.

That’s beyond redemption.

See, you’re having those negative thoughts again.

Time now to reenter the pit, a place that’s now starting to feel like home.

There’s a futility to this, I gotta tell you.

I can make it better, but I can’t make it good.

It really is just a toxic bouillabaisse of human disappointment. 

You get something done, I’ll talk to the turkey.

Now you know what I know. 

I’ll always make something up for you.

You look like a rotisserie chicken right now.

You should write travel brochures.

I don’t have a lot of dignity left.

Where do you go from... from this?

I’d probably work at Starbucks or something.

Like they’re fooling anybody.

I know what you’re doing, Bobby Flay. Liar.

Look at me, walking like I know where I’m going.

Oh, I’m scandalized.

I’ve never seen that. Impressive!

Always looking to try something new.

Bringing literally minutes of experience to the task at hand.

I don’t know if I would hire you, but you didn’t break anything, so we’re good.

This is where shit starts to get real for real.

My sneakers are Velcro.

Maybe there’s a reason for that.

We call it the hibbity-flibbity.

If you don’t mind, we’re gonna shoot the whole show here on my iPhone.

If you took a little of the shock and awe out of your voice, it’d sound more like a compliment.

Hakuna Matata smells like ass.

So that you look at me and don’t immediately associate me with a cold blooded, heartless killer.

And that’s a wrap for that guy. 

#rp meme #roleplay meme #sentence starters #dialogue prompts #ask meme #writing prompts #roleplay prompts #ask prompts #rp prompts #roleplay prompt #humor #crack #death mention tw #death tw #food tw #food mention tw #religion tw #dirty jobs #dirty jobs 2022 #long post tw

[engagemachine]

Mob AU! Ressling is just waiting outside to drive the Joker back after his business meeting when he gets a text message from the clown (which is almost unheard of when the Joker is busy in his meetings) and it's all about how they suddenly need to abduct this mob boss's child and he just groans, downs the rest of his coffee and thinks about how long this bullshit day just got

Oh. My. Gosh.

Ressling getting a text that just says, Get ready. and he squints through the windshield where he's parked across the street, in front of the mobster's house, thinking there's about to be gunfire--

and then in the next moment there's a huge explosion as the home erupts into flames. He curses and starts the van, the tires screeching into motion as he pulls up to the front of the house, just in front of the iron gate that shields it from the rest of the community. All he can see is smoke, and all he can hear is the roar of flames. He waits, tense, as the black smoke plumes into the sky. His window is rolled down, gun at the ready, where the long barrel of it is perched on top of the sideview mirror. More smoke fills the air, and the flames light up the neighborhood. It was a large home--a mansion really--but it'll burn fast. He peers through the scope, one eye squinted shut. He's not sure what to expect, exactly, but when it comes to the Joker, the one thing he can expect is the unexpected.

The back doors of the van are suddenly ripped open, and Ressling curses, spins around in his seat just in time to hear a heavy thud hit the floor, a body, their head covered with a pillowcase. There's no time to investigate further before the Joker is ordering, "Drive," and he obeys.

He tears through the streets, his gun discarded on the seat next to him. He hears the Joker shuffling around in the back, where the seats have been gutted. He can practically feel the excitement and adrenaline radiating off him. He's used to this energy, used to having to do whatever is necessary to deflect it so he can focus on the task at hand, not get entangled in the emotions.

There's also a distinct sounding whimper that is decidedly not male, and he thinks, oh, fuck.

"Pull over," the Joker says, still breathless, "I wanna drive."

Ressling screeches to a halt a few minutes later, outside the mouth of a dark alley, and the back doors punch open as the Joker gets out.

"In the back," he says, and Ressling's stomach churns at the grin that splits the Joker's cheeks, all his teeth and gums barred. "You can keep our new prize company."

Ressling climbs into the back and just barely gets the doors closed before the tires are screeching into motion once again, and the body curled up on the floor pitches forward with the motion, slams against the back doors.

"Shit," Ressling curses.

He pulls them forward, rolling them onto their back, and his brows furrow in confusion. The body in question is a lot smaller than he had originally thought--a lot smaller, in fact, almost as if it were--

There's a pitiful whimper of pain as the body shifts, and when they do, Ressling is momentarily confused by the flash of light that erupts, a flickering of hot pink that lasts just a couple of seconds, almost jarring in the semi-darkness of the back of the van.

He looks down, then, at a pair of white sneakers adorned with yellow flowers and Velcro straps. Little white frilly socks that are folded down at the ankle.

Oh, Jesus.

He pulls the pillowcase off without even thinking, needing to know--needing to see.

A tangle of blonde hair spills out from underneath, and the terrified face of a little girl looks back at him, her big, wet eyes so bright, even in the darkness.

She whimpers and scurries backwards, away from him, but has to stop when a jolt of pain seems to shoot up her arm. She whines and has to lay half on her back and half on her side, so she can cradle her injured arm against her belly.

"P--please," she whimpers, in a tiny, pitiful voice that does something to him. "Please don't hurt me."

Ressling's face turns slack as he looks at her, this little thing in a cotton paisley dress and pigtails, and he thinks, my god, Joker... what have you just done?

#anonymous #asks #mob AU #mini fic

[my-chaos-radio]

Release: August 29, 2012

Lyrics:

Hey Macklemore? can we go thrift shopping?

What, what, what, what

What, what, what, what

What, what, what, what

What, what, what, what

What, what, what, what

What, what, what, what

What, what, what, what

What, what, what, what

I'm gonna pop some tags

Only got twenty dollars in my pocket

I, I, I'm hunting, looking for a come-up

This is fucking awesome

Nah walk up to the club like, what up, I got a big cock!

I'm just pumped, just bought some shit from the thrift shop

Ice on the fringe, it's so damn frosty

The people like, Damn! That's a cold ass honkey.

Rollin' in, hella deep, headin' to the mezzanine

Dressed in all pink, 'cept my gator shoes, those are green

Draped in a leopard mink, girls standin' next to me

Probably shoulda washed this, smells like R. Kelly's sheets

(Piss)

But shit, it was ninety-nine cents! (Bag it) Coppin' it, washin' it

'Bout to go and get some compliments

Passin' up on those moccasins someone else's been walkin' in them

Bummy and grungy, f*ck it man, I am stuntin' and flossin' and

And savin' my money and I'm hella happy that's a bargain, bitch

I'ma take your grandpa's style, I'ma take your grandpa's style

No for real ask your grandpa can I have his hand-me-downs?

(Thank you) Velour jumpsuit and some house slippers

Dookie brown leather jacket that I found diggin'

They had a broken keyboard, I bought a broken keyboard

I bought a skeet blanket, and then I bought a kneeboard

Hello, hello, my ace man, my Miller

John Wayne ain't got nothing on my fringe game, hell no

I could take some Pro Wings, make them cool, sell those

The sneaker heads would be like Aw, he got the Velcros

I'm gonna pop some tags

Only got twenty dollars in my pocket

I, I, I'm hunting, looking for a come-up

This is fucking awesome

I'm gonna pop some tags

Only got twenty dollars in my pocket

I, I, I'm hunting, looking for a come-up

This is fucking awesome

(Goodwill, poppin' tags, yeah!)

What you know about rockin' a wolf on your noggin?

What you knowin' about wearin' a fur fox skin?

I'm digging, I'm digging, I'm searching right through that luggage

One man's trash, that's another man's come up

Thank your granddad for donating that plaid button-up shirt

'Cause right now I'm up in her skirt

I'm at the Goodwill, you can find me in the (Uptons)

I'm that, I'm that sucker searchin' in that section (Uptons)

Your grammy, your aunty, your momma, your mammy

I'll take those flannel zebra jammies, second-hand, I rock that motherfucker

The built-in onesie with the socks on that motherfucker

I hit the party and they stop in that motherfucker

They be like, Oh, that Gucci. That's hella tight

I'm like, Yo that's fifty dollars for a T-shirt

Limited edition, let's do some simple addition

Fifty dollars for a T-shirt, that's just some ignorant bitch (Shit)

I call that getting swindled and pimped (Shit)

I call that getting tricked by a business

That shirt's hella dope

And having the same one as six other people in this club is a hella don't

Peep game, come take a look through my telescope

Trying to get girls from a brand? Then you hella won't

Then you hella won't

I'm gonna pop some tags

Only got twenty dollars in my pocket

I, I, I'm hunting, looking for a come-up

This is fucking awesome

I wear your granddad's clothes

I look incredible

I'm in this big ass coat

From that thrift shop down the road

I wear your granddad's clothes

I look incredible

I'm in this big ass coat

From that thrift shop down the road

Is that your grandma's coat?

I'm gonna pop some tags

Only got twenty dollars in my pocket

I, I, I'm hunting, looking for a come-up

This is fucking awesome

Songwriter:

Ben Haggerty, Ryan Scott Lewis

SongFacts:

👉📖

#Youtube #Spotify #Macklemore #Ryan Lewis #Thrift shop #hit of the day #music #music video #video of the day #youtube video #chaos radi o #good music #2010s #2010s charts #2010s music #2012 #hip hop #hip hop rap #pop rap #jazzy hip hop #lyrics #songfacts #393