#like he didn’t have to explain himself but he did it anyways and goddamn it i love the man so much

[crushmeeren]

🍓Kirishima SFW & NSFW Headcannons

Everyone involved in this fic is aged up/18+; continue scrolling or block if you aren’t into it

Warnings; daddy kink, praise kink, rough sex, hair pulling, mentions of choking, throat fucking, pussy eating, vaginal sex, Kirishima spits into readers mouth and you swallow that shit happily, cream pie, sweet aftercare, sleepy sex

Note; I’m in love with Kirishima, I’ve been writing a lot of headcannons lately but I simply could not resist the urge to write about the overgrown puppy that is Kirishima. Enjoy this meal with me 🍓

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Eijirou who is the actual human embodiment of a ray of sunshine (he is the definition of golden retriever energy—you know if he had a tail it would wag non stop, definitely smacking the shit out of you)

Eijirou who you met for the first at the gym—you were uncomfortable & unsure of what you were doing when this mountain of a man with bright ass red hair came up to you so shy and explained how to back squat without hurting yourself (this fucker had the sweetest smile, despite his sharp teeth—but Jesus Mother Mary & Joseph—you thought you would fall to your knees just looking at him)

Eijirou who stuttered and turned pink every time you asked him to be your spotter whenever you saw him at the gym, until finally he asked for your number (you were gonna ask for his if he didn’t do it first—you definitely did not fist pump afterwards)

Eijirou who is a heart stopping amount of stacked, but is the biggest softie you have ever met, who gets overly excited to play with your dog-wrestling with him and cuddling him (you swear your dog now loves Eiji more than you, ever since you moved in together they’re two peas in a pod- much to your chagrin)

Eijirou who is really smart — okay maybe not top dog when it comes to book smart but he is street smart and exceptional at reading people, who always knows how you’re feeling even when you don’t say anything (it’s always a relief that he can tell when you don’t feel like talking)

Eijirou who is oblivious to how he looks, who has a shit ton of of instagram followers—not because he tries, no it’s because he started posting pictures of himself at the gym just for fun and unbeknownst to him everything he posts is like a goddamn thirst trap (he only realizes after you point it out because you’re starting to get jealous of all the comments but he always says he only has eyes for you)

Eijirou who almost never says no to you, who always goes with the flow, an easy smile lighting up his face, who lets you pick out the movie for date night more often than not (you make sure to pick something he likes anyways)

Eijirou who really likes cherry twizzlers, who has literal hearts in his eyes whenever you buy him a pack every Friday (he coos adorably at you when you hand him the bag saying you’re so sweet to me pretty girl, I love you so much! How did I get so lucky??), who shares them with you anyways

Eijirou who loves to wear athletic clothes—but also likes to dress punk?? (he’s very diverse), who has his ears pierced (two on each lobe), who looks otherworldly when he wears nicer outfits (you definitely make the joke about his clothes looking better on your floor)

Eijirou who is best friends with Katsuki, (you’ve shockingly been able to become close to him as well), who often plays video games online with his friends (Katsuki, Denki, Sero, also Izuku & Shouto), who likes it when you sit on the floor between his legs while he plays

Eijirou who purrs like a cat when you scratch his scalp whenever his hair is down, who lays his head in your lap while you watch TV so you can continue to play with his hair, who falls asleep halfway through the movie because he feels too relaxed

Eijirou whose presence is calming and friendly, who makes you feel safe, who everyone likes (you’ve never heard a bad word said about him—you’d curb stomp anyone who did)

Eijirou who has made you feel more loved then anyone else you’ve ever been with before, who fills your chest with a warmth so intense your eyes often sting with tears—who brings you your favorite food or drink out of blue, who makes you laugh so hard your stomach cramps (he’s the funniest motherfucker you know)

Eijirou who has become your other half, like a limb you didn’t realize was missing all this time, who becomes your husband, who becomes the father of your children, who you share a love with that only comes once every five life times (you know you’ll never love anyone else no matter what comes your way)

🍓NSFW Headcannons Below🍓

Eijirou who kisses you so softly, lips sliding with yours lazily as he lets out little sighs, thumbs slipping under your shirt to tease the smooth skin over your hip bones as you straddle him—until he lets his sharp teeth snag on your bottom lip, chomping into the flesh there, wrenching a startled gasp out of you (he sucks on it apologetically afterwards)

Eijirou who has a thing for letting you dry hump him (while you’re both still clothed), head thumping back on the couch cushion, fingers tight on your waist, flushing, groaning, eyes fluttering shut as he helps you drag your clit back and forth over his cock—dick throbbing painfully from the friction through his jeans

Eijirou who has a switch that flips once he gets to a certain level of aroused, who tosses you onto the bed effortlessly, caging you between his arms, who grips your jaw tightly —forcing it to pop open (he spits possessively into your mouth, telling you to swallow it baby girl, which you do gladly)

Eijirou who loves the feel of your hot, wet mouth sucking his cock, who gets you sitting on your calves on the floor, back against the mattress as his fingers hold the back of your head in place, so he can fuck your throat, who keeps one knee up on the bed next to your head as he thrusts, groin tightening when you look at him with teary eyes (he murmurs lowly baby girl s’good at sucking daddys cock aren’t you? —Your pussy drools)

Eijirou who eats your pussy from behind, soft tongue consistently licking at your clit, fingers stretching your pussy as your face is shoved into the sheets, ass in the air for him, your belly flutters warmly as he smacks your ass with his free hand (it doesn’t take you long to cum like this)

Eijirou whose cock is thick, and you’re talking thick thick, enough that he has to get you dripping before he can get his dick wet (but you love it, the stretch is almost an overwhelming pleasure)

Eijirou who has a daddy kink, who makes you beg for his cock when he has you folded in half—knees almost touching your ears, he teases your pussy with his tip telling you condescendingly you gotta ask daddy nicely if you want to be split open sweetheart (you absolutely do sob daddy please)

Eijirou whose chest gets slick with sweat (hair always falling from its spiky position when you start to go at it), whose moans raise in pitch when he can feel your nipples slipping over & over on his pecs as he fucks you, the sensation making pleasure blister through your limbs, pussy fluttering which makes Eijirou cry out

Eijirou who has a filthy deep stroke, who pants & whispers toe curling praise in your ear but fucks you like he’s trying to carve out your guts, you weave your fingers through his hair, tugging sharply as he moves, (pussy s’good to me sweet thing, daddy loves fucking you, such a tight little thing)

Eijirou who growls under his breath when he fucks you from behind, sliding his cock back in your pussy all the way to the root, forcing a choked sob out of you, who is brutal from the get go, pelvis smacking wetly against yours

Eijirou who makes you cum instantly, wailing please daddy just like that! when he threads his fingers through your hair, forcing your neck back at a sharp angle, activating his quirk just enough on his left hand so he can leave bruises on your hip (oh? right there angel? that was a big one wasn’t it baby, so good cumming for daddy — voice dripping in your belly like honey)

Eijirou who pulls you up into his lap, back against his chest, hand around your throat as he bounces you on his cock, who makes your back arch as he bites on your shoulder, whining lowly as he cums, whose cock you can feel pulsing as his sticky release fills you up (fuck daddy, love when you cum in me — that makes his eyes roll back)

Eijirou who has you limping to the shower afterwards, but he washes your body, rubs your lower back, who tells you how much he loves you as he carries you back to the bed in a towel, who makes you giggle as he pokes your ribs when you change into one of his large T-shirts

Eijirou whose face you pepper with kisses when he climbs into the bed with you, who lets you wake him up in the middle of the night to ride him sweet and slow, foreheads pressed together, breathing the same air, limbs heavy with sleep, who cradles you against his chest when you eventually fall back asleep

#kirishima eijirou x reader #eijirou kirishima x reader #kirishima smut #kirishima x reader #eijirou kirishima #kirishima eijirou #mha kirishima #mha headcanons #kirishima headcanon #mha oneshot #mha smut #kirishima fluff #eijirou x reader #mha eijiro kirishima #kirishima eijiro x reader #bnha smut #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha kirishima #eijiro kirishima smut #eijiro smut #mha eijirou #kirishima x you #my hero headcanons #my hero smut #my hero academia smut #my hero academy fanfiction #kirishima eijiro smut

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 28

part 1 | part 27 | bonus stobin scene | ao3

cw: anxiety attack, graphic thoughts of death

Chapter 7

Steve's mom leaves the week before Thanksgiving.

No preamble, no notice, no "so long and thanks for paying rent," just— poof. Gone. Ta-ta, kiddo. Have a great life!

(Or don't!

Who cares?

Not me, that's for sure!)

The worst part is Steve finds out from Ernie of all people. Ma couldn’t even tell him to his face that she’s abandoning him to the gaping maw of this hellish town because she’s a good-for-nothing coward. Some day this place is gonna swallow him whole, splinter the bones and cough up the pellet, and Florence Harrington will be somewhere far, far away, sighing empty condolences over a fresh glass of red. “Just dreadful, isn’t it? Such a pity; what a shame.”

Steve’s hanging towels on the clothes line the day after the party — after the ride to drop off Max and the hangover brunch with Robin; after drowning his headache in Tylenol and finally getting home, only to realize that he can’t shower yet because all the towels are soaking wet — when Ernie looks up from his yardwork and casually ruins his goddamn life.

“You're wastin' your time with that,” he says, propping his weight against a rake and squinting at Steve in the mid-afternoon sun.

“What?” Steve frowns; hangs another towel. It's not like they're going to dry themselves. "Why?"

"Too cold."

"It's not supposed to rain, though, is it?"

"No, but the humidity—"

Screw the humidity. "I'm sure it'll be fine."

Ernie shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

He turns his attention back to his yard, dragging the rake over a smattering of damp leaves; obsessed with keeping his little patch of lawn pristine; and Steve reaches into the hamper and sincerely hopes that Ernie’s wrong. He needs a shower, and if the towels don't dry fast enough they get that gross mildew smell to them, and then it gets in Steve's hair, and how is he supposed to flirt with Eddie if he smells like musty lake water?

"Where's your mom off to, anyway?" Ernie asks after a moment. "Saw her leave this morning with two big suitcases,” he explains when Steve throws him a questioning look. “Figured she was off somewhere nice.”

Steve blanches.

Two big suitcases?

He didn’t even notice that she wasn’t here. Feels like a stupid, selfish asshole now, because he’d called ‘ma, I’m home!’ when he got in earlier and had thought nothing of her complete lack of response, the peaceful silence of the house; had welcomed it at the time, even, and what if—

Oh, god, what if she’d died?

What if she’d been lying there dead in her room, and Steve didn’t bother to check because he was too busy thinking about himself and how nice it was not to hear reruns on the TV for once? How long would she have lain there, rotting and bloated, and— and how long would his dad have, if the gunshot hadn’t rung out? How long; how long? Bleeding out on the carpet gurgling fish sounds everything red and Steve can’t breathe—

“Did she—?” he pants. Brings a hand to his throat; tries again. “Did you- see who she left with?”

“Some woman. Relative of yours, maybe? I didn’t get a good look at her. Had a real fancy car, though. Mercedes, think it was.”

Steve chokes on his own spit. Feels his throat close up, his heart pound and his ears ring and the yellow-purple-black start creeping in like vines at the edge of his vision, like demogorgon claws; like death’s shark-toothed grin. Hungry, howling, happy as it takes a bite out of him.

“You alright?” Ernie asks.

Steve grinds his jaw so hard he feels something crack. "Excuse me," he grits out, stomping back into the house.

—

"Fuck!" Steve shouts to his empty house — to the sun-faded paneling, to the weird stain in the orange carpet. Fucking Cecelia; fucking hell.

He cleans the house in a rage, eyes hot with unshed tears, and there's a note on the breakfast table. Crisply folded on plain paper, prim cursive letters, almost comically estranged:

Steven,

Apologies for short notice. Gone to stay with Aunt Cece in Evanston. Call or visit if you like.

— Mom

P.S. Happy Thanksgiving

The words leave papercuts in his throat. Steve rips the note to tiny pieces, can hardly see for the tears swimming in his eyes, but he's not crying over this; he's not. He fucking refuses.

Somewhere along the way, the cleaning turns to blind destruction, demolition of the all the little scraps of life mom left behind: her creepy angel figurines, her vintage Pyrex dishes, an empty bottle of old perfume. Steve hurls them all against the living room wall, delights in the shimmering pile of broken glass at his bare feet. Wants to crawl over it on hands and knees. Wants to burn this place to the ground.

When the sun dips below the trees he goes back out to check the towels. The air is wet, bitterly cold; nips at his hands when the wind blows, and the towels hang heavy on the line, just as damp as before but now the slightest bit stiff with the first creep of frost.

"FUCK!" Steve roars, ripping a towel down off the line. Yanking each one down in turn, throwing them into the dirt, raging, "What! Is! The fucking! Point!"

His tears spill over then, hot and wet as he sinks to his knees with a wounded growl, and he chokes there in the dirt; the cold, wet mud, the patchy grass. Gravel digs into his shins, and sobs wrack his chest, capsize him like plunging waves, and he can't do anything but shake and cry where the whole neighborhood can see. Making a commotion; making a scene, as his mother would say, but his mother's not here. She fucking left. She left him here, and his dad did, too, and Steve is utterly, truly, hopelessly alone.

"Come on, son."

And there’s Wayne Munson, coaxing him up off the ground with a sure, strong grip. Steve makes animal sounds as Wayne lifts him under the arms — ruined hiccups, mangled wails. There's mud in his lungs. Ocean silt; sucking sludge.

His mother's gone.

"Easy now," Wayne shushes; hugs him hard against his side. "You're alright, kid. You're alright."

—

part 29

tag list under separate reblogs, comment if you’re over 21 and want to be added tomorrow

#trailer park steve au #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #my writing #my fic #wayne munson #cw: angst

[hyunnie]

wonwoo’s weverse post broke me

#the words he used were so beautiful but so…heartbreaking at the same time #i just…i appreciate his honesty and openness so much #like he didn’t have to explain himself but he did it anyways and goddamn it i love the man so much

[ohtobeleah]

Hangman would have seen you and Rooster hugging tho. Jealousy, jealousy?

For those who haven’t been following along—This is just a really fun series I’ve been concepting. The Masterlist is here.

Oh for sure he did! And he wasn't going to not bring it up the second he had a chance to either. Jake Sersin had seen his wife in the arms of Bradley Bradshaw out the front of the Hard Deck. He’d seen a few seconds of what could only be described as a friendly encounter with an acquaintance. A nice acquaintance at that. But there was never any malice intention or underlying feelings. But what did Jake know? Only what he could see and what he saw was his wife in the arms of another man. Someone other than himself.

“You know I saw you and Hawk at the Hard Deck Bradshaw.” His muscles hurt but he’d never admit it. Up, down, up, down. Right on cue every time. “Care to explain why you’re all over my wife?” Rooster cast a shadow down over Hangman. His body eclipsed the sun that beamed down on his back. Smirking, Rooster couldn’t help but to chuckle. Did he smell jealousy? Perhaps.

“Picturing me thick as thieves with your ex-wife not sitting right with you Hangman?” Rooster teased as he watched Hangman doing his push ups after Maverick had got tone on him, Phoenix and Bob. Crouching down as he let his forearms rest on his thigh. “We were just having a chat, nothing more to it man.”

“What happened between you two anyway?” Bob, the Weapon Systems Officer is questioned between his staggered push ups. “Lieutenant Commander Seresin seems nice, don’t really know why she’d go for a guy as egotistical as you to begin with Bagman.”

“You’ll never be able to love me more than you love flying.” Scrambling around the house as you threw things into the open luggage bag. You’d been called for a last minute assignment. “You're reckless and careless, you act like you don’t have someone waiting for you to come home!” Jake had only just gotten home, his first air to air kill confirmed mere minutes after he’d set foot stateside. “I can’t take this anymore, I can’t breathe Jake! I can't—“ And it was safe to say you weren’t taking the news well at all.

“It’s my job! when you married me that was the deal! A package!” Jake Seresin was missing a vital point in your argument. He couldn’t understand why you were so upset. He was home, he was alive. But it was the thought of losing him to his own selfishness that had finally eaten away at you enough to break you.

“But it’s not just a job Hangman!” You never really used his call sign, so to hear you say it with such venom made his heart break. “It’s the way you do your job!! You fly like every last training session is your last! Every mission, every task is your last. Everyone says the same damn thing too! You don’t play well with others, you don’t fit on the goddamn team so why the hell should I expect them to risk their lives to save your sorry arse if something were to happen?”

“Y/n—baby.” It was hard to have a counter argument prepared when Jake didn’t think he’d done anything wrong to begin with. Trying to keep you from leaving, his hands on either side of your shoulders. “I’m here? I’m okay! What's the problem, love?”

“The problem Jake is that they wouldn’t!” Heavy, that’s what Jake would call the atmosphere around you. He’d remember the look of hopelessness in your eyes, the love that you had for him. Immense and fierce. You loved him so much it scared you to the point where you had to leave for your own sanity. “And suddenly it’ll just be me, and I’d rather it just be me on my own accord then for you to be taken away from me because you’ve burnt all your bridges to the point no one will want to save you!”

“We just needed some time apart, and haven't really found a way back yet.” Jake really did like to downplay what he unintentionally put you through. Simply because he wasn’t ready to stop being the best of the best. He knows that confirmed air to air kill was the final straw that broke you—he could have easily let it go, but he didn’t. Unnecessarily endangering himself for the thrill of the chase. “And she is a nice person—“ Huffing as he finished his push-ups, Jake groaned as he stood to his feet. Rooster doing the same, staring each other day. “Hug my wife like that again and I’ll break every goddamn bone in your body.”

“Ex wife—Hangman, she’s your ex wife.” Bradley snickered as he pushed his aviator sunglasses up the bridge of his nose with a wicked shit eating smirk. “Hawk can do whatever, and whoever she wants.” Without so much as a glint of hesitation Jake was shoving at Roosters chest. His nostrils flaring with every intent of beating to life out of Bradley Bradshaw for even insinuating such a concept. You were his fucking wife. His.

“Hey!! Hey—!” It was only when you had come out to ask Hondo when Pete would be finishing up that you saw the confrontation going down. Jogging over, you couldn't really move all that quickly with your dress shoes on. You preferred to wear your service uniform more often than not. The tan looked good and was rather comfortable all things considered. But as you raced towards where Jake and Bradley stood puffing their chest and flaring their nostrils like baboons? A small part of you wished you’d just taken Mavericks offer on a more comfortable flight suit. Some old baggy one from the back of his collection. “Hey! Knock it off!”

At the sound of your voice, the sweet sound of fire and grace, Jake's shoulders settled a little. His anger dissipated. Stepping back and away from rooster as you caught his attention, all of it. Approaching with a huff after running across the tarmac, you took a deep breath in, hands resting on your knees as you bent over dramatically. Heart rate higher then you would have liked it to have been.

“What the hell is going on? Huh?”

“Nothing Lieutenant Commander–” It wasn't hard to catch onto the tone Jake laced your title with. It had been the same way you had called him Lieutenant not a few hours prior. With a glare unmissable and a tight jaw clenched, you turned to Rooster who stood close by. Sending him a questioning look.

“Anything to add?” It wasn't something you took pleasure in, being authoritarian. You’d much rather just keep a low profile. But sometimes, pulling the rank card was the only thing you could do to get your point across, to remind people you were still a person to take seriously. “Lieutenant Bradshaw?”

“Not a word ma'am” Rooster played into it well, bouncing off Jake's ego a little too well. “We were just discussing independence, it seems as though some of us have forgotten that free will is a thing.” It did surprise you, not in the slightest bit. Of cause they were arguing over something stupid. It was always something stupid wasnt it.

“Rooster, why don't you take a walk.” You knew from your conversation with Hondo just minutes ago he was due to be up in the air in half an hour. “Cool off, clear your head or else Mav’s gonna send you packing.” You didn't give him a chance to respond as you turned on your heels, facing Hangman once again, eyes squinting as the sun beamed down, holding your hand up to shade your eyes. “Hangman–my office.”

“Yeah I think I’m good–” Shrugging you off Jake began to walk away, the group of stunned pilots, Phoenix, bob and Rooster all let their jaws slack a little at the confrontation unfolding. You may have been his ex wife but first and foremost in this moment you were his superior. To blatantly disrespect you like he did was unheard of behavior. Watching for a brief second as Jake pushed past you, his shoulder bumping into you as he did so.

“It wasn't a suggestion, Lieutenant!” Your voice strained as you raised it to something above what you were comfortable with. “My office, now!” Pausing his trajectory without so much as looking back, Jake changed the direction he was heading. Turning as he made his way to your office. Turning back to Rooster holding the bridge of your nose. “Don’t you have better things to be doing? I’m sure Lieutenant Kazanksy is around somewhere, go annoy her!”

***~***~***~***~***~

Slouched in one of the arm chairs by your desk, Jake watched as you stepped through the threshold of your office. Anger evident on your face as you stuck your tongue against your cheek. Seething. Slamming the door behind you without even flinching. It was needless to say it was very out of the ordinary for you to lose your cool like this, you would consider yourself to be a pretty easy going, level headed person. But when it came to all things Jake Seresin? Level headedness was always the first thing to go flying out the window.

“I'm sorry–”

“Cut the shit!” It stung like venom. Sitting on the edge of your desk as you ripped in. “You don't ever get to treat me with such disrespect, of all people who I thought would’ve been okay with taking a direct order, it would be you. Mr only naval aviator on active duty with a confirmed air to air kill.”

“I'm still getting used to the idea of you being a Commander, I slipped up, Ma’am.” Jake paused for a moment as his eyes trailed your body, biting his bottom lip gently as he pictures what might be hidden under your uniform. “I promise it won't happen again.”

“You know, I really do wonder what will be your last lie.” huffing softly in defeat you let your demeanor change. Dropping the attitude you hated having. You weren't an authoritative figure, you were simply just you. “But if you promise, I guess I'll just have to take your word won't I?” Nodding, Jake stood from his place in the chair near your desk, stepping closer as you pushed yourself a little further back on top of your desk. “What were you and Rooster really fighting about?” with your legs hanging over the side, Jake slipped in easily, one of your knees on either side of his left leg.

“You.” It came out with no hesitation as Jake let his hands linger along your hips.

“Me? I haven't done anything?” Realistically you hadn't. “How am I the problem here?”

“Please–I saw you and Bradshaw out the front of the Hard Deck.” Hangman wasn't willing to admit a lot of things, but there was one thing for sure. He was a very jealous man.

“You mean you saw me interacting with a friend, Jake you can't be serious.” Jake's grip on your hips got a little tighter as you dismissed his jealousy. Clenching his jaw as he looked at the ground. “You know we aren't together right? If I wanted to see other people I very well could.”

“Are you?” Jake finally met your gaze, his eyes just slightly glazed with what you could only describe as the beginning of tears. “Are you seeing anyone?” It was a heavier question than he ever thought it would be. To ask his wife, the love of his life if she was seeing someone new. Someone else besides him. “Because if you are, I'll respect it, just–just dont lie to me, that's all I ask.” His actions weren’t matching his words. Jake's hands slowly worked their way up your body, finding their home against your cheeks as he cupped your face in his hands. Softly, ever so gently caressing your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. “I'll wanna beat the ever living shit out of whoever gets to call you theirs but i'll respect your decision.” it made you chuckle, you couldn't help it. Deciding to just come clean, with honesty and your heart on your sleeve. Pulling out your dog tags that hid under your uniform. Your wedding band looped around the silver ball chain.

“I'm not seeing anyone you idiot, but i'm not seeing you either.” Jake couldn't hold back his smirk, pressing his lips against yours as he held you close to him in the palms of his hands. Your lips soft against his as he deepening the kiss with every passing second. Tongues dancing like they'd done this on an endless loop before. You’d missed this. This feeling. The feeling of being loved. Being needed. But as always, it was forever fleeting. “Jake–”

“I know I know–” With his eyes closed and his forehead resting against yours, Jake Seresin for a moment had you in his grasp again. “Professionalism in the workplace.” Pulling away with a sigh, Jake let his hands drop to your knees. “But off the clock, dinner?”

“You asked me last night.” Reminding Jake as he stood in front of you, straddling your leg. His eyes widening at your attitude, placing a hand over his heart as if you'd shot him.

“You said no last night?” Yeah, you did do that didnt you? Oh well.

“Oh and you expect me to say yes now that you know i'm single?” It struck another raw nerve, but in the best way it possible could have as Jake kissed you once again. This time with more lust, with more passion. Harder and more fierce than before his teeth clashed against yours and his hand slightly wrapped around your throat. With just enough pressure to have your core paulse. Fuck.

“Your aren't single, you're married. To me! And I'm asking my wife to have dinner with me which is a very normal and socially acceptable thing to do.” You let him squirm for a moment, watching through hooded eyes as you decided if it would be a good idea or not to have dinner together. Deciding maybe throwing a dog a bone once in a while would be a good thing, what could possibly go wrong?

“Fine–”

***~***~***~***~***~

Five hours, twenty minutes and forty five seconds. That’s how long Jake Seresin had left before he’d be able to confidently stand at your door and pick you up for dinner. Although the Hard Deck was nothing special and would most likely be full of naval men and women all grabbing a bite to eat and a few drinks after a day's work. It was still special because it was with you.

“Sir, if I may?” You weren't the type of person to interrupt, you took orders accordingly and spoke when you were spoken to. “I have a concept I’d like to address—while we’re all here?” Waiting for a moment, you couldn’t help but to think Admiral Beau was about to reprimand you for interrupting the debrief. The mission parameters were so important for the pilots to understand, who the hell did you think you were interrupting.

“Make it quick—“ With his arms crossed, you let a small sigh of relief escape as you nodded softly. Handing Pete Mitchell your clipboard as you worked with the interactive map that lit up before the TopGun graduates.

Jake sat a little straighter in his chair, chewing his gum with a stare that saw directly into your soul. This was odd? You weren’t normally one to step out of line like this. You followed protocol to the fucking letter. Crossed all the T’s and dotted all the i’s. For you to interrupt during the middle of a debrief? Un fucking heard off.

“I’ve been up all night thinking this could be done better.” Your eyes were still bloodshot from all the ways you’d tried to go about this at different angle. Settling on the one you were about to present. “But, if this is the carrier and this is the airbase, and this is the target point.” Drawing a line from points A B and C with your index finger. “I propose we have the pilots fly directly from point A being the carrier to point C being the target.”

“We need the super hornets to fly over the airbase in order to disarm the enemy. Missiles will be dropped from a higher altitude—“

“What if we used something else to dismantle the enemy’s airfield, sir.”

“I’m assuming you already have an idea, Lieutenant Commander?” Maverick answered with a smirk, enjoying this just a little too much. Anyone who could twist Admiral Beaus' knickers in a knot was considered a friend. He liked you—for someone well reserved and on the quiet side you had balls.

“Tomahawks Sir, we can launch them directly from the carrier a minute or so after initial take off—giving the team the advantage of time.”

“I’m sorry—what did you say you actually do?” Fanboy didn’t mean for it to sound rude, he was just genuinely intrigued. “I think I missed the part where everyone was told what your role was.” Looking his way with a soft gaze, you tried your best to puff your chest a little. Knowing you were pretty good at your job.

“I’m an analyst—“

“A bloody good one at that.” Admiral Beau approached you from his seat at the back of the room, looking at your drawn up proposal on the interactive board. “Damn, this is—this is genius, a million dollar idea but still, genius.”

Jake couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. You were brilliant in every sense of the word. For a meeting he’d forgotten just how intelligent you truly were, how you managed to make an incredibly hard job so easy. Staring as you softly swayed side to side, accepting the praise you received from your superiors. Melting inside when your eyes met his. The smile, beaming just for you, his heart beating with such love and admiration. Admiring you from his seat in the front.

“Damn— tomahawks huh?” Jake walked with you out towards the tarmac, his first run through with the new flight path set and ready for about twenty minutes' time. Bumping your hip, his way of flirting. Bumping him back—your way of flirting. “You really think that’ll work?”

“I think it’s the safest option, unnecessary diversion from what’s essentially a straight shot just doesn’t make sense to me—“ Pausing your explanation when you noticed Jake smirking to himself. “What?”

“Nothing nothing!” He chuckled. “I just, I could listen to you all day, honestly but—how about you tell me in full detail over dinner tonight.” Jake beamed as he started jogging away, turning to run backwards as he waited for you to reply. Rooster zipping past with his helmet in his hand. Catching up to where your ex husband, Hangman stood.

Feeling overly vulnerable. You hugged yourself gently. Watching as Jake sent you a wink.

“Dinner! I’ll pick you up at seven!” It made you swoon. Trying to hide your smile as you shouted after him.

“Deal.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Tags: @justanothermagicalsara @alexsisrebekah @stinkyjax @starkleila

#jake seresin imagine #jake seresin x y/n #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin fanfiction #top gun hangman #top gun maverick fanfiction

[eclecticqueennerd]

Confessions

Part 5

*language, violence, mention of p*rn, mentions of dr*gs, angst, smexual situations 18+ please*

Soldier Boys POV

He couldn’t give two shits about Butcher’s vendetta against Homelander. He didn’t need his help in settling the score against Payback, I’m the first goddamn supe. The only reason why he stuck around with the boys is because of y/n. He thought he was in love before with the Countess but boy was he wrong. Sure, the Countess was gorgeous and had talent, especially when her lips were wrapped around his cock, but deep-down Ben felt like she was only doing things for him out of fear, a fear he didn’t see in y/n. Y/n had every right to be afraid, he blew up her friend and almost killed her for god’s sake, that’s not my fault, it's whatever those fucking Russkies did to me. He also killed one of her friends, MM was it, family members, okay that was my fault I was so high I couldn’t see straight. To impress y/n that he’s a better man than Butcher, Ben apologized, even though deep down he didn’t really mean it.

Ben and y/n talk about some of the most random shit. She’d tell him jokes he didn’t quite understand but would chuckle at anyway. He’d talk about meeting celebrities that have long since died and which ones were dickheads. On the rare times they had an hour free, she’d explain what was happening in Game of Thrones, ‘Why didn’t the dumbass just zigzag?” “I KNOW RIGHT? Goddamn it Rickon!” She’d have him listen to different bands from various eras; Ben decided that he liked listening to Wanted Dead or Alive. They’d bond over their love for discovering new foods, however, nothing they find will ever replace his love for a double bacon cheeseburger with extra bacon.

The rest of the gang slowly warmed up to Ben once they realized how fast y/n trusted him. They understood that he was a man out of time, and he needed to be taught a few things about this day and age. What he can and can’t do, how to address men and especially women, how to work a smartphone, and how to access the internet. There was one time, okay several times, Ben stumbled across a porn website by ‘accident’ on y/n’s ipad. The loud moans on the video echoed in the living room and Ben had to remember how to turn the sound down. Is it this button? *screenshot*. Ben would continue to fumble around with the device until he decided to give up. He’ll figure it out one day, but right now he needed to crank it out.

Frenchie and Ben would talk about their favorite illicit substances, Hughie would ask some dumb fucking questions which would almost always end up with him being tongue lashed by Ben. Even MM found it acceptable to sit on the same side of the room as him, they still never interacted. The only one that appeared to have a problem with how close Ben was getting with everyone was Butcher. Ben didn’t care about that though, he can go fuck himself. Every time Butcher would try to tell Ben something shitty about y/n and how he should focus on the mission and Homelander, Ben would just go about his day and reply, “Takes a real broken man to try and bring down a woman at the top of her game.”

But after all that, Ben’s favorite thing was going on missions with y/n and watching her work, it was his new religion. The way y/n’s hips sway back and forth in her skintight tactical suit showing the world she’s comfortable in her own skin, the brutality she showed towards their victims and the confidence she now exudes, Ben likes to think he had a hand in that.

*

Y/n grabs the knife from Ben’s belt. She proceeds forward to their tied-up victim, one that’s going in and out of consciousness. This is one tough bastard. His face all puffed up, lip busted and the hinting of dark bruises forming on his face. Then, a blood curdling scream,

“Tell us what we want to know! Where are the TNT Twins?” Ben saw his knife lodged just above the kneecap while y/n shook the man by the shoulders.

“I’d tell her where they’re at. She’s supposed to play nice cop.” Y/n twists the knife and screaming rang out again.

“Y/n the bastard is gonna bleed out before we get our info.”

“He won’t bleed out, at least not as fast as you’d think. Where I stabbed him just barely misses the major blood vessels that is embedded in the synovial joint. It’s riddled with nerves so if I do this,” she moves the knife slightly, the victim screams out, “He’ll feel it. If we don’t kill him by the end of this then any infection that penetrates the joint fluid, will.” Marry me.

“I don’t know where they're at now, but I know Herogasm is in 3 days at their place outside of New York!” The man confesses and gave the address to the house, Ben left the man tied up on the chair and walked towards the entrance of the dilapidated warehouse. While the two of you were walking back to Butcher's car, Ben asked,

“Normies don’t have that much force behind them to jab a knife into some assholes knee. What kinda powers you got?”

“I was a field surgeon in the United States Army before I joined the boys, so I know my way around the human body. When I stayed with Grace, they ran me through a series of tests and realized I’ve got strength and stamina, accelerated healing, heightened reflexes and a potential for hand-to-hand combat. I’m still working on that though. When training with Grace’s men, I was be too strong for them and break a bone or something so no one wanted to train with me. That was the end of that.”

“You know, I could train you if you wanted. Will be a little harder to break my bones doll. Plus you get to be up close and personal with the nation's hero Soldier Boy.” Ben throws in a wink for good measure. Y/n giggles,

“Thanks, but no. I’d rather stick with the knives.” Y/n waved Bens knife around in the air. Ben reached out and grabbed it and placed it back in its sheath.

“Which by the way you need your own. You can’t keep taking mine whenever you feel like it.” You could take anything from me whenever you want. Shit, take me right now.

“Are you twats ready to go yet or should I circle around the block?”

*

Y/n’s scent was intoxicating, her musk mixed with the vanilla scent of her perfume, not too light, not too heavy, just right. Ben, being the upstanding gentleman he is, let y/n sit in the front seat but learned the back of Butchers cadillac was torture. The limited leg room, lack of airflow to the back of the car and the shitty rear suspension almost made Ben regret giving up the front seat. Almost. If he positioned himself just right, Ben could see y/n tits bounce up and down in her top every time the car hit a pothole. Ben had to adjust himself on occasion to accommodate the semi chub growing in his pants.

The car was placed in park, and everyone exited. Finally. Once you reached the hideouts front door, Ben commented,

“You know, you have quite a knack for that.” y/n looked up at him questioningly. “Torture. Where’d you learn it? I’m assuming they didn’t teach you that in basic training.” y/n huffed,

“No. I picked up a few things from that one there,” she points to Butcher now slamming his bedroom door shut. “I just never had the stomach to follow through. I shall never intentionally do or administer anything to the overall harm of my patients and all that jazz.” Ben poured himself a glass of whiskey.

“What’s changed?”

“I don’t’ know, but I think I like it.” y/n flicked her hair back using her hands. She was being sassy, is that what they call it nowadays? Ben poured out a glass of whiskey for y/n and they both downed the amber liquid, simultaneously let out an exhale to help rid the burning sensation.

“We’ll I’m a bloody mess, I need a shower.” Y/n went to her room and grabbed a fresh set of clothes. Ben poured himself another glass of whiskey as he watched y/n come out of her room again. She was looking right at him and had this look on her face, eyes darker. Y/n slowly walked into the bathroom, keeping eye contact and gently shutting the door. Ben downed the glass of whiskey and walked over to the bathroom. She wants to get up close and personal with Solider Boy in a different way, got it.

@butchers-girl @xmariakx

@deans-spinster-witch

#billy butcher x reader #billy butcher #the boys #kimiko the boys #soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #the boys amazon #mothers milk #karl urban #frenchie #jensen ackles #angst #hughie campbell #Spotify

[asmotheavatarofhorny]

Your (Slightly Moist) Envy Demon 🧡

———————————

⚠️ Warnings:

• Lots and lots of fluffy cuddles<3

• Levi being a pervert incel but nothing actually happens

• Leviathan x GN!MC

• Cussing

• Mention of Mammon

———————————

It was night in the Devildom. The pitch black serving as a picture perfect backsplash for the millions of stars painting the vastness of the sky, the blood red moon glowing impossibly brightly, sending beautiful rays through your window, dyeing your sheets a deep scarlet.

You felt comfortable. Warm. Safe.

You were surrounded by your family. Surrounded by your protectors.

Even in the dreary hell scape that was the Devildom, you felt safer than you did in your home land.

You felt loved.

Your soft blankets, freshly washed courtesy of Beel, hugged your body perfectly, shielding you from any imperfections in the world. You were so at peace.

…

That was.. except for the soft (and incredibly cold) pressure on your thigh that you knew couldn’t be from any inanimate cause.

Your eyes fluttered open, you softly yawned and stretched before leaning up slightly to catch a glimpse of tonight’s invader to your space.

Blue hair and a curled up body was all you could see.

Levi.

The poor boy must have been having a rough night. That, or he just hadn’t slept in a while due to some new game he was speed running.

Either way, he was here now.

You wondered why he didn’t just ask for cuddles instead of intruding and nestling his face dangerously close to your ass, but this was Levi. Of course he didn’t ask.

You reached your hand slowly towards him, massaging his head and fondling his hair which was—

OH MY DEMONS HE’S FUCKING WET??

Well, that explains the cold.

Goddamn it Levi, did you really have to get in my bed after getting out of your fish bowl?? Your bed is going to smell like algae for a while now… and Beel just washed your sheets the other day too!

You sighed in annoyance before sitting up, his head now in between your thighs. You pet him softly, running your fingers through his sopping wet hair. Suddenly you wished you hadn’t opted not to wear your signature pajama pants tonight, although you did feel bad about returning the boxers you borrowed from Mammon moist.

Oh well. They were comfortable anyways, and maybe he’d let you keep them now?

Levi opened one of his eyes slowly, looking up at you, but not making eye contact. His long fingers squeezed your hips lightly as he repositioned himself to be nuzzled into your stomach, rather than your… well. You know.

He meant well, you knew. But you could see a soft blush dusting his features. It beautifully complimented his dark blue hair, and you were glad you got to see it as often as you did.

You tousled his hair once again, before leaning back, letting yourself flop onto your pillows. Your eyes closed softly as you felt Levi’s soft breath on your bare stomach, which was revealed from all the movement causing your shirt to roll up.

You felt awfully exposed, but this was Levi. What was he going to do to you, other than blush and stutter when you called him out on accidentally being a perv?

You sighed, and decided you’d deal with it for now. You just hoped he wouldn’t be gone in the morning, like a fleeting dream that only lasted a few seconds.

The soft rays of the moonlight and the warm breath of the envy demon on your torso combined with the freezing cold of his soggy self, was incredibly comforting as you let your eyes slip closed and your conscious leave you.

It seemed you were doomed to sleep sopping wet.

You just hope you don’t catch a cold later.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me fluff #obey me cuddles #ooc maybe #oopsies #leviathan fluff #leviathan x gender neutral reader #leviathan x mc #leviathan obey me #levi obey me #asmotheavatarofhornytm

[pberrry]

part 2 !!

rick x sa victim! reader

sorry it took a year😭, this is a long one so prepare yourself

cw- p in v, very gentle sex, protected sex, crying, slight mention of s/a, mostly vague descriptions of genitals/sex

-SPOILER- i started this before the release of season 7 so there’s mentions of rick prime

You licked the last bit of gloppydrop-style ice cream off your lips, looking over at Rick while doing so. The two of you were cooped up in his underground domain. He was working on his latest conquest- finding Rick Prime. You felt obligated to help, but got rejected with a hasty groan every time you attempted to. At this point, you were really just taking up space in the room. Although, you did pass the occasional incredibly technical sci-fi piece of equipment to Rick.

“H-Hey, Y/n, pass me that- that thing right there,” Rick said, pointing in a vague way towards your general direction.

“What thing?” You looked behind you, confused.

“That- that!” Rick said, moving his finger in the slightest, “you fucking dumbass, I’m pointing right at it!”

“Sorry!” You apologized frantically.

Rick groaned.

“Don’t be. Let’s- let’s take a- blueeerrgh- break.” Rick said, getting up from his spot on the chair.

“Yea, okay,” you stayed grounded in your seat, eyes following Rick’s figure steadily as he walked towards you.

“Look, l-listen Y/n. I- blueearghheh- I didn’t mean to make you… make you uncomfortable or anything last- blrrrygh- last night. So don’t fucking use it against me.”

A giggle escaped your mouth.

“What?” Rick looked back at you, insulted, an annoyed glare etched in his eyebrows.

“It’s nothing. Just weird hearing you apologize,”

“Don’t get used to it dumb-errrgh-ass,” he groaned.

The two of you stayed silent for a second.

“I’m sorry if I lead you on or something. I- I really didn’t realize I was,” you apologized.

“You weren’t,” Rick stated bluntly. “It’s fine.”

Goddamn, maybe Summer and Morty were right about this man having a soft spot for you.

“And just to clarify, I wasn’t rejecting you,” You said, looking up.

“Y-you weren’t?” He paused for a moment, you had caught the man off guard. “I mean, of course you fu-euuueghhh-cking weren’t.” He says with that smug grin of his. He’s trying to cheer you up.

“And… I’m sorry I didn’t explain stuff to you.” You say, suddenly looking downwards.

Rick could tell how much you hated talking about it. The way you shifted slightly, the way you started fidgeting with your hands and the way your gaze avoided his. Your mouth peaked open slightly, only to shut again as your thoughts scrambled around, trying to decide the wording of your next sentence. He was staring at you, waiting with that harsh deadpan expression of his.

“Rick, do you think you could… help me?” You ask, fingers dancing nervously in your lap.

“‘Help’ you?” He repeated, a sneaking suspicious as to what you meant crawling up his spine and getting the gears in his head grinding.

“Help me, like… get over my fear. Of having sex.”

That statement hit him like a pile of bricks. Of course, he had half-expected it, but hearing you say it was something else entirely. For a moment he just stared at you. He just couldn’t understand why the fuck you would pick him.

“You want me-bleurrghhh-to what? Sweetie I’m willing- but I’m not sure choosing me is the brightest fucking idea.”

“Why not?” You asked, intrigue lacing your louder-than-usual voice.

“Come on, Y/n.”

“Come on, what?” You ask. “You don’t have to question my reasoning, you’re doing a good deed anyways.” You say, an almost pleading look in your eyes.

“Is it?” He retorts, grunting lightly.

You nod your head. He gives you a troubled, almost hesitant expression with a groan. Yea, of course he’d love to fuck you. Just not in these… circumstances. He would hate himself if he was responsible for hurting you, especially in the way that other person had.

“Fine.” He almost spits out. “When would you like me-bleurrghhh-to have sex with you?” He asks, bluntly.

“…now?” You respond.

He perks up, tilting his head a little and giving you a look that says ‘this is your last chance to back out’, before clicking a button and setting the garage into soundproof mode. Surprisingly, the work bench beside you began to rearrange itself into something a bit more… comfortable? Making you wonder why he had that function wired into his work bench, but of course the man was kind of a whore. You assumed that was where you were supposed to sit, so your plopped yourself down right there as you waited for Rick. The man was scrambling around for something in one of the drawers, when he pulled out a condom and some lube. He sat it beside you.

This was it. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, almost to the point you feared Rick might be able to hear it.

“Do you want a Xanax… or something?” He asked, a poor attempt at calming your nerves, to which, you shook your head.

“Stand up.” He said plainly, and you thought his words might knock the wind out of you.

Once you stood up, you could literally almost feel your knees buckle from how nervous you were. You felt his hands slip around your shoulders and grip them, cautious of his hands going places that may make you uncomfortable.

He leaned in, placing an unexpected kiss on your lips. Before you knew it, you were deepening the kiss, encouraging him to also. And that he did. His tongue slipped in your mouth, exploring what could possibly have been the best thing he ever tasted. After a few minutes, he lowered himself to his knees, an aged groan escaping his mouth. Although it was a bit embarrassing, his hardened dick was already straining uncomfortably against his jeans at just the action of kissing you.

He placed his hands on the hemline of your jeans, looking up at you for permission. You nodded hesitantly as you began to feel the cold air hit your exposed thighs, your jeans crumpling down at your ankles. Rick couldn’t wait.

He slipped your panties down, rough and calloused fingers meeting your plump skin. He slid them between your folds, rubbing you in little circular motions which made your legs jerk and shake lightly. His movements were slow and deliberate, observing your expressions carefully for and signs of discomfort. When he didn’t see any, he leaned in, propping your leg up on his shoulder. He buried his head between your legs, his tongue beginning to work it’s expertise on you. He gently eased his fingers into you, trying to lessen the pain you might be feeling by increasing the speed of his tongue. After all, you had been celibate for many years after what had happened to you, and he knew you probably weren’t used to the feeling.

Your fingers intertwined with his blue locks of hair, little moans and whines escaping you. You could feel your hips grind ever so slightly against his tongue and fingers, pushing you to orgasm. He curled his fingers, making you arch your back and let out a cry of pleasure. It comforted you some; knowing he was below you and not the other way around. His tongue lapped away at you with precision, liked he’d done this thousands of times and perfected the art.

With one final tremble of your legs, you came on his fingers. Rick couldn’t help the grin pulling at the side of his lips at the sight of your pleasured expression, and the cum coating his fingers. With one swift motion, he licked the cum off his fingers, causing your heart to pound inside your chest. His hands slipped around your waist, gripping you tightly and propping you up onto the workbench table with ease. Your hands held onto his wrists tightly, as if wanting control over his movements. He didn’t mind.

“You okay? Want me to continue?” He asked, staring down at you.

You nodded, breath heavy and anxious. The sound of his fly unzipping sent chills down your spine, unknowingly causing tears to well up in your eyes. You didn’t notice until Rick used his thumb to gently soothe your under-eye. He grabbed the lube, gently coating your entrance, before grabbing a condom and slipping it over himself.

“Lay down.” He instructed, his hand on your back to provide comfort against the hard table.

He leaned over you, pressing his head to your entrance. He gently eased into you, muttering a string of praises and soft words of encouragement.

“Good, only a little more…” He said softly, his dick still pushing into you and making a small whine leave your mouth.

He let out a low groan once he was as far as he could go, looking up at you with an oddly flushed face.

“Can I move?” He asked, his voice weirdly gentle.

You nodded, and began to feel his warm mass glide back in forth inside of you. You could feel a wetness gliding down your cheek, realizing you were crying. Rick did a good job of wiping your tears while simultaneously encouraging you. One of his hands moved to your hips, gripping it lightly to keep you in place. His other hand focused on wiping away your tears and ruffling your hair a little to calm your nerves. His hips moved back and forth in a intimate dance of love and lust for you, slowly gaining speed.

“Fuckkkk… don’t cry, sweetheart..” He groaned out, his eyes shut tightly in bliss.

Feeling the pleasure built up intensely inside him, he pulled out and came against your stomach, condom basically filled to the brim. Both of you were panting, flushed messes. It took Rick a few moments to compose himself, taking off his condom and tossing it into a nearby trash can. The sight of you, laying there, all flushed and sweaty, almost made him cum again. He helped you sit up, wiping your tears a little.

“You okay?” He asked, his voice gruff as per usual but his actions told otherwise.

“Yea…” you answered, words heaved out because of your stolen breath.

In a gesture very unlike him, Rick pulled you close, hugging you to his chest and petting your head affectionately.

He definitely had a soft spot for you.

He grabbed a clean towel, gently wiping you off. After he was done, he grabbed the hoodie you had previously discarded and pulled it over you. He picked you up, allowing your legs to straddle his waist and your arms to latch onto his neck. You found yourself oddly worn out in his arms, sleep’s embrace tempting you. He carefully laid you on the spare bed he sometimes slept in while in his random, obsessive bursts of searching for Rick prime. He seemed to think for a moment, debating wether he should go back to working on his conquest or joining you in a nap. He chose the latter.

ty for reading!!! hope you enjoyed

#rick sanchez x reader #rick sanchez #rick prime #rick and morty #morty smith #fluff and smut

[i-talk-too-much]

A Misunderstanding (Part 2)

Dick Grayson x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,272

Warnings: none, smut in later chapters

A/N: it's been *checks watch* way longer than I thought it would be. oops. also, I made a little oopsie in part 1, I originally wrote her final was in two days, but it was actually supposed to be in a week… so I have that changed now ahaha. Anyways

(Part 1)

Summary: You and Dick were childhood friends before you both drifted apart - him living with Bruce and you moving away. You are reunited after you move to Gotham and Nightwing saves you from a criminal.

————————–

Dick laid awake in his bed that night, the covers splayed around his legs. The thoughts swarming his mind about the earlier meeting kept him awake. Your face, your mannerisms, everything – nothing changed after sixteen years. 

No, that’s not true. You had changed. You were no longer the kid he knew back when he was in the circus. You grew up, just as he had. And the time in your apartment proved it.

He didn’t know what pushed him to visit you. To check on you, he said, but that was something he thought of in the moment, a simple excuse to talk to you more. 

He brought his hands to his face, palms against his eyes as he sighed into the still air.

He felt like an idiot. How could he have let the time go? Why did he not respond to your letter all those years ago? 

Actually, Dick knew why. He knew exactly why he dropped the letter into his drawer and forced himself to ignore it. But, it seemed so stupid in retrospect.

He shifted to lay on his side, hoping the change in position would allow him some much needed sleep. Instead, his eyes caught sight of his desk.

A thought formed in his mind and he sat up. 

He could write you a letter – a letter explaining what happened. Maybe he could ask to meet-up, if you were willing.

And with hope filling his chest, he left his messy bed and set to work.

——

You were stressed. Stressed out of your goddamn mind for the exam that was tomorrow. 

Honestly, you probably didn’t have to be as worried as you were – you had been putting your all into your classes. But, it never hurt to study more, to go to the library for a last-minute review.

Reaching the first floor of your apartment building, you passed by the long hallway of mailboxes.

You paused by the entrance, deciding on a whim to look in your own. It was long since due for a check-in, a pile of letters no doubt straining against the small compartment. Everything was digital nowadays, including your bills. Opening the small storage in the wall, you wondered what kind of mail you’d receive.

There was less than you imagined. Approximately six sat inside and you pulled them out, sorting through each, none grabbing your attention. That was, until the last letter came into view.

It was sleek – the envelope colored black with the flap on the back taped down by a dark blue sticker. It was charming. You read the white-inked ‘from’ address, the name almost making you drop everything you were holding. 

Dick Grayson.

“What the hell,” you slowly whispered into the empty hallway, your brows furrowing. You re-read it two more times, disbelieving the written name. 

How the hell did he get your address? And why was he sending you a letter now? It’s been sixteen years! He should’ve forgotten all about you at this point.

You thought he had, after not receiving a reply. A nostalgic ache settled in your chest, the familiarity of it making you shake your head, stuffing the black letter and the others into your bag. You didn’t have time for this, you needed to get to the library. 

The walk to the building was filled with thoughts about nothing but the letter. What could he have written? What would have made him send you a message, sixteen years after you sent yours? Did he only now receive the letter you sent? 

You scoffed at the last idea. 

You had more faith in the postal service than the fucking police, there’s no way it was only now delivered. Then, what could the reason be? It felt as if the envelope was burning a hole in your bag, you being acutely aware of it sitting inside, holding the answers to all your questions.

By the time you arrived at your destination, you had mentally gone through every possibility. Countless scenarios ran through your mind and none of them seemed to fit. 

This was bad – you needed to focus on studying. 

Finding a secluded area in the library – a table in the back – you plopped into a chair and pulled out your laptop, some papers and set to work. Every so often, your eyes traveled to your bag, the letter taunting you. It was after thirty minutes passed and all you managed to do was stare at a page thoughtlessly, that you finally decided to open it.

You gently took out the envelope and slowly peeled the blue sticker from the back. Lifting the flap, the page inside felt expensive. Sliding the paper out and unfolding it, your eyes scanned the words, absorbing the content inside.

To Y/N:

Hope you’re doing well. It’s been a long while since we've last seen each other, huh?

 …Mainly my fault, I admit. 

I did get your letter all those years ago, but I placed it in a cabinet and forgot. Life became busy, time sped by, and I never had the chance to look at what you sent me.

Until I began looking through old bins in storage and found yours inside.

I promise I never forgot about you. Not one day. I just never had…time.

I know it's been almost 16 years, and it might be a bit late for me to mend ties – but would you want to grab coffee sometime?

Here's my number if you–

You stopped reading, feeling an inexplicable wave of indignation course through your veins.

Were you that easy to brush aside? To forget? Surely, in sixteen years, there would have been at least a moment where he could've reached out to you.

And yet, here he was, sixteen years later with a half-assed explanation and a nonchalance that irritated you.

He was funny if he thought you would cave so easily. To rush to send him a message, to call and hear his voice.

You ignored the slight clench of your heart. 

If he made you wait sixteen years, he'd have to accept waiting a little bit more. 

——

You didn’t know how you got through that exam, but you did. 

The moment your feet stepped onto the sidewalk outside your college building, you felt an imaginary weight lift off your shoulders. Taking a deep breath, the air inside your lungs almost felt cleaner. Almost.

With the results of that exam out of your hands now, all that was left was to enjoy the break and wait for the final grade. You had half the mind to go out to the club to celebrate, but the recent mugging still made your blood run cold.

Bing-watching a show with take-out it was, then. 

And two hours later, that was still the plan – until a certain hero dropped by your fire escape window and invited himself inside to lounge on your couch.

"Is this gonna be like – a thing?" You motioned ambiguously toward the situation with your hands. "You stopping by my apartment on your patrols?"

He shrugged and grinned, a cheeky smile reaching his eyes. "It can if you want it to be." 

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, instead opting to offer the man some of your food. “Want some? It just came, like, fifteen minutes ago.”

He smiled at the hand-out, taking the deliciously-filled plate with both hands and chowing down as he settled back into the cushioned seat. “Plus, I’m on break. The others can call if they need me,” he said, stuffing his mouth with a forkful of food. “So, what are we watching?” 

“Well,” you began. ”I’m watching a space documentary. You’re trespassing.”

Nightwing gasped dramatically, splaying a hand across his chest. “Me? Trespassing? I would never.”

You chortled, deciding right then that he’d always be permitted in your apartment – but you wouldn’t tell him that. Pressing play on the remote, you leaned back and copied his position against the couch.

While you were absorbed in the beautifully rendered scenes of the cosmos, you didn’t notice Nightwing glancing around your living room, taking in every little detail. His eyes landed on a certain black envelope sitting on a desk by the window.

“Damn, that’s insane!” You exclaimed, amazed by the facts shown on the screen. You leaned forward and placed your fork down with your finished plate on the coffee table. “Hey, do you think the stars–” you cut off, seeing his head turned toward the window. “Nightwing?”

He seemed to be lost in thought for a moment until he replied, “yeah? Sorry, what were you saying?”

You paused, observing his expression before responding softly. “Everything all right?”

“No, yeah, definitely. Just got distracted by something shiny, s’all.” He got up, taking his empty plate along with yours to the kitchen sink. “You know, that black envelope looks fancy. Looks like one of those wealthy Gala invitations.” 

“Huh?” Your eyes fitted over to your desk. “Ah, that? Nah, it’s just a letter from someone I knew.”

“Knew?” You heard the sound of running water and dishes clattering. What a gentleman. “Not a lover, then?”

“Pfft, no,” you laughed, taking a sip from your cup. “He’s a childhood friend I lost contact with. Somehow he found my address and sent a letter.” After a moment, you added, “and now that I think about it, it’s a little creepy.”

Forced laughter seemed to bubble from Nightwing’s lips, the sound reverberating through the small apartment.

“Can I ask who the sender is?” His voice held a light note to it. You raised a brow. 

“Why? Jealous?” You teased, almost wishing he was.

A bark of a laugh escaped his being as he replied. “Jealous? Yeah, sure, let’s call it that.” 

Deciding to satiate his curiosity, you answered truthfully. “If you really want to know, it’s from Dick Grayson.”

“Grayson, huh? Bruce Wanyne’s trust fund kid?” At your wordless confirmation, his lips upturned in a joking manner. 

“Tell you what, if he’s creepy,” Nightwing paused, placing his hands on his hips. “I’ll protect you from him.”

“Oh, yeah?” Your lips matched his own, humor thick in your voice. “And how are you going to do that?”

He crossed his arms. “With my fighting skills,” he answered defensively, then mumbled, “obviously.”

You chuckled at the pout on his lips. “Obviously.”

“In all seriousness though,” he moved around across the room and lifted the letter before continuing, “wouldn’t hurt to reach out to him, if you’re comfortable. Did you two part on bad terms?”

“I mean,” you paused, resting your cheek on your palm and mulled over the answer. “I don’t think so?”

Nightwing shrugged. “Then it’d probably be fine, right?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but something about his attention to the letter felt off. With the way he was acting, it seemed personal. You narrowed your eyes.

“You know,” you tilted your head. “With how determined you are, it’s almost like…” 

Nightwing’s head swirled toward you, waiting for you to finish your sentence.

“You’re friends with him, aren’t you?” 

His shoulders visibly sagged at your statement, the corner of his lip lifting. “Was it that obvious?” 

“Wait, so is that how he got my address? From you?” You stood up, slowly walking towards the man standing by the desk as you became lost in thought. “Was that why you were shocked when you saw my ID? Did Dick talk to you about me?” Hope filled your voice, the emotion speeding up your words.

Nightwing raised his hands, stopping you from crashing into his chest. “Slow your roll, Y/N. One question at a time.”

“Did you tell him my address,” you asked, crossing your arms and straightening your back. 

“I did,” he answered. No part of him appeared guilty, however. 

Your mouth tightened with displeasure. “Without my permission? Why?”

He brought his hand to the side of his head, scratching the space behind his ear. 

“I knew how much he wanted to see you again, so I thought it'd be fine.” After a moment of your unwavering stare, he quickly added, “and now that I see your reaction, I’m never going to do that again before asking you.”

You breathed out a laugh. “You say that like there’ll be others asking for my address.” 

Nightwing’s body relaxed at your softened expression. ”Knowing you for as long as I have, I’m sure there will be.”

You take a moment during the lull in conversation to walk toward the couch and sit on the armrest.

“What’s he like?” You brought your uncertain gaze to his. ”Do you think I should reply to him?” 

He leaned back against the desk and lifted his shoulders nonchalantly. “From my standpoint, I’d say go for it. If you decide he’s not worth it, just block him. No harm, no foul.”

He moved toward the window, opening it just enough to slip onto the fire escape before turning back and facing you.

“And if he was truly a dickhead, I’d tell you. In the end, though, it’s up to you. Your choice.”

——

That night, you kept turning the letter in your hands, rereading the last lines. 

Here’s my number if you want to give it a chance. Text or call, anytime. 

(xxx) xxx-xxxx

Your friend always,

Dick Grayson

Nightwing was right.

There’s no harm in catching up with an old friend. And if things go south, you could just block him and move on. You've moved on once before, you could do it again.

Contemplating it one last time, you steeled your resolve and saved his number into your phone before typing out a message.

————————–

Tagging: @bluebirdhangingonawheepingtree @hungryhungarian @escapism-r-us @xasement @zbeez-outlet @scrambled-eggs-y

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x you #dick grayson #dick grayson fic #A Misunderstanding #nightwing x reader #nightwing x you #nightwing x y/n #nightwing fic #nightwing

[jayfortheday]

hi! i'm not sure if you're taking new requests right now so feel free to ignore this ask if you don't! anyway i've just read your one shot with comforting eli and i've realised that i'm such a sucker for the hurt/comfort trope it's actually unreal 🥲 and i'm also a sucker for vance hopper, so could you please write a similar thing but with him? the reader notices he's in a bad mood for some reason and talks to him which ends up in him breaking down and reader comforting him?

Just Us Now (Vance Hopper)

Pairing: Vance Hopper x GN!Reader (romantic)

Word count: 813

Description: Y/N notices Vance is feeling down and invites him over to their house to comfort him

Tags: crying, emotional hurt/comfort, kisses

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As you walked home with Vance by your side, you noticed he was acting strange. Usually, Vance liked to fill the time of the walk home with talk of almost anything, it didn’t matter what the topic was, he was just always talking. Today, however, Vance walked in silence. He eyed the ground as he moved, and there was a little more distance between the two of you than usual. 

“You feelin’ ok, V?” You asked, cocking your head slightly to look into his eyes. 

“Hm? Oh, yeah, fine,” he hummed, glancing up to you.

“You wanna chill at my house for a bit?” You asked with a small smile. “My mom’s working late so it’ll be just be us.”

“Ok,” Vance responded halfheartedly, looking back to the ground, observing the grass growing between the cracks in the sidewalk. Vance’s demeanour today concerned you. While you did want to hang out with him, inviting him over was also a chance to check that he was really ok, this time in a more private space.

As you rounded the corner of the street to your house, you grabbed Vance’s hand and sped up slightly. He made a small noise of surprise but easily kept pace. You gently pulled him to the front door of your house, fishing around in your pocket for the key. When you finally found it, you inserted it into the lock and opened the door. You entered the house and beckoned for Vance to follow. Depositing your shoes and bag by the door and Vance doing the same, the pair of you went to your room, your usual hang out spot in your house.

After you entered, you closed and locked the bedroom door behind you, ensuring that even if your mom came home early, you would still have privacy. While you were turned around, Vance had sat himself on your bed and looked around your room, a faraway look in his eyes. 

“You sure you’re ok?” You asked again, now that Vance would be sure no one else could hear. He looked at you without turning his head, his blonde bangs obscuring his eyes. 

“Why do you ask?” He asked, his tone downtrodden. 

You hopped up onto the bed next to Vance, bouncing slightly as you landed. 

“You’ve been acting kinda weird today, sweetheart. You just seem really down and I wanted to check in,” you explained, leaning into him slightly. Vance groaned slightly before laying back on the bed. 

“And here I thought I was being sneaky,” he said with a sad laugh. 

“Not in the slightest,” you remarked, laying onto your back next to him. “Come on, baby, talk to me. What’s wrong?” Vance looked at you, searching for any indication you weren’t being genuine, before he sighed quietly.

“That’s the problem,” he grumbled. “Nothing’s wrong, the only that’s changed is I suddenly feel like shit for no goddamn reason.” He brought up his hands and ran them through his hair with a frustrated look on his face. 

“Hmm, I feel like that too sometimes, I always hate when it happens,” you agreed, crossing your arms and placing them behind your head. “You know what I like doing when I feel like that?” Vance looked up at you expectantly. “I like being with you, I don’t know, you always just make me feel better.”

Vance smiled weakly before getting up on his knees to scooch up the bed to lay down almost on top of you. 

“You make me feel better too,” he said quietly before he nestled his face in your neck. “I think I need that right now.” You smiled, exhaling through your nose, and wrapped your arms around him, one resting on his back and the other on his head. You turned your head slightly to press a kiss to his temple and lightly ran your fingers through his curls. 

You saw him look up at you and when you turned to meet his gaze, you saw the beginnings of tears in his eyes. 

“I gotcha, baby,” you quietly assured him, pulling him closer to you. You felt his breath hitch in his chest before he began to quietly sob. You felt him become warmer with embarrassment as he cried, huddling into you. He wrapped his arms around your midriff and pushed his face further into the crook of your neck. 

The soft drip of Vance’s tears on your neck paired with the way he shook slightly made you feel his sadness with him. You turned your body slightly so you were more directly facing him. You pressed another kiss to his head, running your fingers gently over his scalp and his spine, trying to help calm him. 

“I love you, Vance,” you said quietly as you held him. Vance paused his sobs for a second before he held you tighter and continued to cry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Hope you enjoyed! I was gonna go to the Stranger Things store tomorrow but I had some logistical issues so now I'm going August 20th, so now I have a free day tomorrow to chill and do some more writing

#vance hopper #vance hopper x reader #the black phone #fanfic #fanfiction

[seospicybin]

HAPPY PILLS.

PART I

Felix x reader. (s,f, a bit of angst)

Chapters: Part II

Author's note: It’s a slowburn so pls take your time reading it and I hope you like it :)

Your fingers were shaking and your bow slid, causing you to miss a note. But everyone knew, you missed a few notes already and you could feel their icy glares without having to look.

Your bow slid again as you looked at the conductor and he too was giving you an unkind stare.

The crease between your eyebrows deepen, beads of cold sweat rolled down your back, you gripped the neck of the cello harder and everything came down to this: a sudden outburst of rage.

You shot up from your chair and threw the cello onto the floor, it made a loud thudding sound that everyone abruptly stopped playing their instruments.

"FUCK!!! FUCK THIS SHIT!!! FUCKING FUCK!!!!!! FUCK ALL OF YOU!!! FUCKING THIS GODDAMN ORCHESTRA!! FUCKING SHIT FUCK!" you screamed out loud with all the air in your lungs as the curses resounded in the empty auditorium you were practicing in.

"FUCK!!!!!" You screamed again until you ran out of breath and your voice turned hoarse.

You heard the gasps from everyone around you and you hurled the bow across the room, saw it hit the wall then walked away.

Why did you bother joining the orchestra again?

They got to see you lost it.

Once you burst out like that, you have no control over it, the only way was to let it all out until you exhausted yourself with all that rage coming out of you.

Anger is not a disorder, but anger is a known symptom of several mental health conditions.

And you happen to have both into the mix.

The dance class already took over the auditorium, but someone must have put your cello aside but not the bow. You trailed to where you threw it and someone came over to you, handing you the bow broken in half with the hair kept it attached.

You took it from them without looking at the person.

You threw the broken bow into your cello case and shut it close.

It was impossible not to have social anxiety when the whole school knew about your out-of-proportion outbursts and you got so used to their stares at you.

Before this, they had seen you bursting out during your cello recital at the year-end gala last winter, you dashed down the stage and turned over a table full of refreshments.

It was one way to be known by the whole school as someone who is insane in the membrane.

If you ever get a chance to explain, you have this condition where you have frequent impulsive anger outbursts or aggression if you are triggered. To put it simply, you are a walking bomb that can go off at any time.

You always isolated yourself by practicing in the small studio for the sake of everyone's convenience and well, your own.

You took a deep breath and rested your hand around the neck of the cello, then exhaled, emptying the air in your lungs.

You always start with Bach's cello suite prelude for every practice, despite you've played the piece a thousand times ever since you learned to play cello until then.

Your muscles memorized the music notes and your fingers danced on the neck like it has its own consciousness.

This piece helped you become one with the instrument and vice versa.

You moved on to the next piece after you finished playing, and found the one you had a hard time playing because it reminded you of the unfortunate event.

You got intrigued to play it, you considered it and since no one would hear you playing it anyway, it didn't matter if you played it bad.

The piece was beautiful yet so intricate, it involved a lot of emotions while playing it and that has always been the problem. It had always been explosive, frenzied emotions or no emotions at all for you, there's no in-between.

Your eyes snapped open when you felt like something was about to trigger you and found someone standing outside the door of your studio.

You abruptly stopped playing and exchanged a glance with him.

Noticed that you saw him, he pushed the door open and got himself in.

You knew him as someone from the dance major, you could tell from his bleached blonde hair and freckles on his face. The farthest you allowed yourself to have a social life is knowing that he is the school's talented dancer.

But what was he doing here?

"Can I help you?" You asked with your head tipped to the side, rather confused because the dance practice rooms are on the second floor while the studio you were in was on the lower level and in a separate building.

He stood just a few steps from you then shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, "I hear you playing so I come," he simply answered.

"We met before at the auditorium," he reminded.

You only remembered then that he was the one who found your broken cello bow but also reminded you of the disastrous episode of your tantrums.

"I-" You paused and held your cello close as if it would offer you comfort, "I didn't take my medicine that day," you explained because it was the only reason people like him would understand.

"No, I did take my medicine but," you corrected with a heavy sigh, "apparently, not enough."

He awkwardly smiled, "I think that's cool,"

"What? Cursing the whole orchestra?" You asked.

He laughed and you didn't understand what was so funny about your question.

"The smashing your cello part," he said, he gestured to your cello, full of dents and scrapes from you, and threw it onto the floor.

"And the cursing too," he added.

You didn't know how to properly react to that, your lack of social cues made you couldn't differentiate if he was genuinely praising you or making fun of you.

"Thanks, I guess?" You awkwardly replied and rubbed the cello strings, the vibration it made always worked to calm you down.

There was a moment of silence and then he came up to you, "I'm Felix," he introduced himself and then offered his hand next.

You stared at it for a long time still stunned that his voice went deeper when he enunciated his name with confidence, then you understood the gesture, hurriedly shook his hand back, and introduced yourself.

"You're the dancer," you beamed.

"Yes," he answered.

"Then what are you doing here?" You asked.

He got so surprised by your question, probably at how straightforward it is.

"I mean, you're a student here, of course, you're allowed to be in any part of the school," you blabbering, trying to explain why you asked him that, "you can't be lost, right?"

He cracked into a laugh, "No," he replied.

You nodded, "of course, you're not," you muttered to yourself.

There was another moment of silence again and he looked like he wanted to say something but changed his mind at the last minute.

"I'll let you back to practice," he said to you with a smile that made his eyes crinkle.

You nodded while kept sliding your palm down the strings and felt more of the vibrations.

"I'll see you again," he said.

You're smart enough to know what he meant by 'see you again' is briefly exchanged a glance when you walk past each other in the hallway.

So out of courtesy, you said back to him, "See you again!"

-

You did see him as you walked the school hallway and headed to your locker to get your music notes, you could easily spot him among the crowds because he's a blinding light, and everyone else was drawn to him like a moth to the flame.

While you are the exact opposite, a black hole, whose existence is unknown but people know that you are something to avoid.

You were in the most rigorous part of the music piece when you heard someone push the door open, abruptly stopped playing, and saw it was him again.

He grinned at you, knowing that he interrupted your practice, "sorry for disturbing your practice!"

You shook your head because you were more afraid of him coming in when you have your usual burst of rage.

"What's up?" You asked while rubbing your palm on the strings on your cello and feeling the vibrations it made.

Felix dragged a folded chair from the corner of the studio and held it, "Can I just sit here and watch you practice?" He asked.

"I've been wanting to ask you about it for a long time but-"

"Afraid that I might throw my cello at you?" You continued his sentence.

Felix laughed and has beautiful, sonorous, and filled with so much gaiety, almost like a children's laughter.

"No, not that," he denied.

"I'm afraid that you would say no," he continued, he stood next to the chair but not sitting on it.

"What if I said no?" You asked out of pure curiosity like your rejection would bring hell to him.

He pressed his lips together into a thin line, "I have no idea, really," he honestly answered.

"But I'll keep asking until you say yes," he confidently said.

Maybe Felix got so used to people saying yes to everything he said and maybe that was why he was confident that you wouldn't reject him.

Having people around you was already enough to make you nervous, and he's just one person but still, you didn't want to risk it. It was better if you keep isolated yourself like this, alone in the small studio with your busted cello.

"I don't think that's a good idea," you said.

Felix surprisingly took it well and folded the chair back, dragging it back to the corner.

Suddenly, you felt bad for rejecting him, or maybe that was just his charms to win you over.

"I don't want to hurt you," you blurted out, hoping he understands why you declined his request.

And maybe you guessed wrong, he knew you would reject him because he came up with something else, "then I'll keep watching you from outside that door," he said with a smile, didn't mind at all with it.

He kept his promise.

You caught him watching you from the door and he would flash a smile at you, crossing his arms in front of him with his back leaning against the wall. He listened intently to what you were playing and to your surprise, you didn't mind his presence at all. It got you rethinking your decision on rejecting his request.

And sometime after, you decided to let him in.

"Got me searching for you," he said, poking his head from the doorway.

"You can come in!" You meekly said, he would likely make you nervous but this is worth a try.

Felix thought he misheard it, "Can I?"

"Yes," you confirmed.

He spotted that you didn't bring your cello with you and sitting against the grand piano instead, "You're not practicing cello?"

You shook your head, "No,"

"That's also why I'm letting you in. I can throw my cello at you but not this," you explained.

You gave him quite the imagery that he laughed, Felix looked around for a chair to sit on but couldn't find any.

"Come sit here!" you offered and scooted to one side of the bench, patting the space next to you.

He was more than okay to sit next to you and dropped his bag on the floor.

You noticed that Felix was freshly showered, his hair was still damp and you could smell the scent of his shampoo.

When he noticed the large bandage on your inner palm and he reached for it out of reflex, "are you okay?"

You slowly retracted your hand from him, "hurled a vase of hydrangeas at the shop a few days ago," you explained with a thin smile.

"How do you play cello then?"

"I still can play the cello," you said and flipped open your binder full of music sheets.

"I just don't know if I still wanted to play," it came out of your mouth without you meaning it to and you hoped he missed it.

You hurriedly think of something else to say, "do you have a favorite piano piece?" You asked.

Felix pursed his lips as he was thinking, "to be honest, I'll listen to anything you play," he answered.

"Okay," you said, you picked one from a stack of music sheets on your binder and put it in front of you.

You saw the disappointment in him, you knew that he wanted to see you play cello instead of piano. You compensated for it by playing your favorite piece, it was a lot different from playing it with a cello but you tried your best with the piano skill you have.

When you finished, you let out a low sigh then turned your head at him, and found him smiling at you.

"That's beautiful!" He complimented.

You smiled in return.

"You know that piece of music you wrote, the one used for the dance performance?" He asked.

"I think so, yeah," you answered.

Felix nodded, of course, you knew, you wrote it and are most likely to remember it the most.

"Do you like it?" You asked so innocently and somehow he liked talking to you unfiltered like that, which made talking easily with you.

"Yes," he shortly answered.

"To be honest, I like every piece of music you wrote," he added like he had been waiting to say that.

"Oh?" You never received praise from someone else before, maybe you did when you were younger but once you got older, you learned that not all praises are genuine.

But this, you could tell that he was being genuine because why would he nervously wipe his palms on his jeans while doing it?

"Thank you," you muttered in gratitude.

It was safe to say that Felix got you intrigued. You always thought he's somewhat vain, pompous, you know, like how popular kids usually behave.

That night, you went on the school web and looked for his profile with your student ID, learned that he auditioned to get into the art school with his dance, and got accepted on his first try unlike some of the students who usually got in after their second or third try.

You went through the list of his performances he had done next and randomly chose one to watch.

There was something so mesmerizing about the way he moves like the music flows inside him and lets it control his body, not the other way around.

He's in his element when he's dancing, he was born to do it, he came to the world to dance and it showed. He radiates a bright, burning, passionate glow around him when he dances.

He did not just change your mind but also moved your heart, it also amazed you how your emotions were still intact after watching some of his performances.

To say that he's a talented dancer would be an understatement, he is one special, one-of-a-kind dancer.

The next day, you spontaneously went to the dance practice rooms and found him dancing with someone else.

The beads of sweat on his neck glistened against the afternoon light that shone through the big windows of the dance studio and the back of his white shirt was damp with sweat, yet he was laughing when he took a wrong step in his dances that he asked the guy who was practicing with him.

He tried again and started it all over until he succeeded.

You couldn't remember the last time you were as passionate as him, deeply immersed yourself in it that everything else comes secondary to you. It felt like a distant memory to you.

You realized that your passion slowly fade, the flame was there but it was flickering, you didn't know how much longer it would hold out.

Or should you maybe blow it off and put an end to it?

-

Everybody knew how great of a cellist you were!

You were scouted to the art school instead of auditioned like most of the students here. You achieved so many things that your name preceded the art school's prestigious title.

All the students looked up to you, admired you, and respected you as a cellist and generally a musician.

Felix heard your name at least once a day in everyone's chatter at school, that was how influential you were. He couldn't help but felt a little indignation in him.

He did great at dancing, he won a lot of things and he was confident enough to say that his talent was just as great as yours.

At the year-end show, he finally got to see what the so-called most talented student in the art school performance looks like.

He watched from the side of the stage as you prepared yourself to play on the stage, ran your hand on the strings, and took a deep breath.

He got skeptical about what people see in you that made people think highly of you like you were some sort of mighty deity.

Then the lights turned off and a spotlight shone down on you, then you began playing the cello.

He didn't know much about classical cello but it sounded so pleasant and warm, as delicate as the gust of spring breeze.

Yet there was something so sorrowful woven between the notes almost like a sadness that was kept hidden under the layer but if he listened enough, he could feel it: the pinpricks on his heart.

Felix didn't know if he was moved by the music because it was so beautiful that no one noticed the sadness it carried underneath or the way you played it, how you were so immersed in the music you were playing.

It was like listening to a siren's call and Felix voluntarily gave in to the temptations, chose to let himself get drowned in it until all of a sudden you stopped playing in the middle and threw your cello to the floor.

You ran off the stage while dragging the hem of your dress and someone tried to stop you but you kept running.

You turned over a table full of drinks to make them stop following you and disappeared behind the curtains.

And you kept hiding behind the curtains ever since.

It baffled him how everyone easily turned from praising you to talking ill about you, admiration smiles turned into uneasy stares, and all that talent isolated in the small studio, all alone, by yourself.

Felix spent a few times standing outside your small studio listening to you practicing and that day he listened to you playing the same piece of music you played at the year-end show that he couldn't help but watched you through the glass in the studio door.

He likes seeing you play, how your fingers nimbly danced on the neck of the cello and your cheek pressed on the side of it, there was a crease formed between your eyebrows, and your eyes were closed as if the music you played took your soul to another realm.

It was his dream to listen to you play the piece until the end, he wanted to know if the sadness would linger to its last notes.

But you stopped once again and caught him watching.

He didn't expect you to sound so small and reserved, opposite to the you he heard so much about back in your glory days.

Oddly enough though, he got so overjoyed to finally be able to talk to you.

He met a lot of great people in his life but it was the first time that he got so nervous, tongue-tied, and barely could come up with anything impressionable to say to you.

Felix was simply starstruck.

But that day, he found you watching him practicing from the reflection he saw of you in the mirror. He turned around and saw you standing outside, peering into the studio behind the glass window carrying your cello case on your back.

What caught his attention was the faint sadness on your face.

He took a break and jogged over to you, "are you looking for me because I stopped watching you practicing?" He playfully said.

That seemed to shift your attention back to him, you sheepishly smiled, "I was on my way to..." you paused, stopping yourself from making excuses.

"I'm curious," you gave him an honest answer.

"I have to practice for my upcoming showcase," he informed.

"Oh?"

"It's tomorrow at 5 pm," he gave you the details, hoping that you would come.

You nodded but did not say anything.

"You will come, right?" He asked, searching for your eyes, and when he did, locked his stare with yours.

You scrunched your nose and he could sense another rejection.

"Well, you know, I might turn into a she-hulk or something," you joked but your facial expression didn't fully commit to your intention.

Felix couldn't tell whether you were joking or not, because what if he laughed and you meant the latter?

"What if you don't?" He asked instead.

In these past few days, he met and talked, even being in a small soundproofed room together with you, and nothing harmful happened to any of you. Felix concludes that you weren't as atrocious as everyone assumed you are.

He should have known that people exaggerated things, yes you are mentally ill but that doesn't make you less human.

"I mean you might turn into something else..." Felix shrugged to stall as he thought of something witty, "Catwoman, perhaps?"

But from your plain expression, he could tell that his words weren't comforting nor assuring.

After a moment though, you cracked a laugh.

"Maybe," you partly agreed with him.

The hall started to get crowded since another class was about to start and Felix was so used to the stares, but the kind they gave you was different from the ones he gets.

"See you again!" You mumbled to him, turning on your heels, and disappeared into the crowd.

-

You spotted a stalk of white rose wilted among the other and hurriedly put it on a glass filled with water.

"I'm going to deliver some flowers," your father informed as he picked up the car keys from the table.

"Be careful," you shouted as he brought a big bouquet of red roses out of the door.

The bell on the door clanged again and you thought it was your father forgetting something.

"Did you forget something?" You asked as you typed in a note on the computer to print it as a card.

"I'm looking for some flowers, actually," Someone answered your question.

And you recognized that deep voice anywhere, you looked over your shoulder to see Felix coming into the florist shop.

You settled on acting formal because who knows if he preferred that, no popular boy likes to be seen mingling with a loser anyway.

"You can choose the flowers yourself and we can make a bouquet," you told him with your hands shoved into the big pocket in front of the ugly green colored apron.

"Can you choose it for me?" He asked with a bashful smile.

You took a step closer, "are you celebrating something, or is it for someone?" You paused and considered if you should continue, "someone special?"

He shook his head, "my dancing teacher sprained her ankle so I want to send her a nice flower bouquet," he said.

You are never good at recommending flowers, it's your mom's specialty but she was busy handling the other customer so you had no other choice.

"I think a succulent for a dancing teacher won't do it," you muttered to yourself.

But it seemed that Felix heard it too because he softly laughed at your words.

"Is she perhaps having any allergies? A keen sense of smell?" You asked.

"Not that I know of but just in case, maybe," he hesitated with his answer.

"Then I suggest tulips," you said and picked up a white tulip.

"Not the white ones, they're so gloomy," you muttered again then picked up different colors of tulips, "we can mix a few colors," you suggested.

Felix smiled and it seemed like he doesn't know much about flowers either.

"Tulips are low in fragrance so it's convenience for people with a keen sense of smell, hospital and... everyone else in the hospital?" you assured him with a thin smile.

He laughed again and you didn't know what was so funny?

"I'll take them then," he said.

After deciding on the numbers of tulips and the colors, you brought them to the table to wrap them into a bouquet. It was so quiet because you needed to put your focus on it, again, your mother is the one with the prowess as a florist.

"I didn't know you work here," he said.

"That's impossible because almost everyone from school ordered flowers from here," you spoke fact, oftentimes, you got a few orders to be sent to Felix, especially after the mid-year and year-end shows.

"Are you working here every day?" Felix asked.

You took a wrapping paper from the roll and cut it with scissors in one seamless move, "only in my good days," you answered.

Felix nodded and helped you drag rolls of wired ties in front of you.

"By the way, I'm not mad that you didn't come to the showcase yesterday," He said.

"I did come," you said.

Felix got surprised at the unexpecting news.

"I didn't stay long. I left after watching your performance," you said with a sheepish smile.

He was still processing things, he opened his mouth a few times but nothing came out of it.

"How did I do?" He asked.

"Amazing!" You replied with a smile.

Your mother came up to you after finishing with her bouquet, "do you need my help, love?" She asked.

"I'm almost done, mom," you quickly said.

But she stood there next to you, watched you diligently tie the bouquet and secured it with the wired tie, groaned when you struggled to cut it with the cutter.

Your mother's hand reached for your hand but you quickly glared at her.

"Mom, I'm not going to stab him with it, relax!" you sighed at her.

She scoffed, "I'm supervising my employee's flower arrangement skill, not you," she denied then shot Felix a grin.

And Felix returned the smile.

"Do you want any card to go with it?" You asked as you gestured to the rack of greeting cards.

"I'm sorry, it's mandatory since I'm employed," you said in a lower voice at him while leaning forward on the table.

"I heard you," your mother said from the other end of the counter.

"Yes, sure," Felix said with a smile then started choosing the greeting card, settled on a simple get well soon card, and wrote a simple message inside.

"I'll see you at school," he said to you after paying for the flowers to your mother.

"Oh, so you know each other?" Your mother said.

You didn't say anything but awkwardly waved bye at him

"Have a good evening," Felix politely said to your mother then got out of the shop while carrying the bouquet with him.

-

"Can I watch?" He asked because you were back in your small studio with your cello.

You stifled a nod.

You got so used to his presence that it didn't bother you anymore, he excitedly dragged a chair and set it just a few feet away from you.

"You've been playing the same piece," he said.

"I have a recital tomorrow," you said.

Playing the cello is one thing but to perform it to a group of people and being evaluated in the process put you under big pressure.

"You sound wonderful as usual, not that you can't be better than that but to me that was perfect," he commented.

"I mean what do I know? I'm just a dancer," he shrugged, suddenly got flustered from his blabbering.

You burst out laughing and he laughed along. Your laugh faded with the fear looming over you for what tomorrow brings.

"It's the uhm... when I get nervous, it triggers it," you explained to him the dire situation you'd likely be in the next day.

And he could see it, from the way your palm rubbed over the strings of your cello as a way to calm yourself. He learned after watching you practice, apart from how lovely you looked playing your cello and the music you played.

Felix skipped a class knowing that your recital coincides with his dance lesson, he had to ask one of his friends for information on where the recital would be held.

He sneaked into where the students were waiting for their turn to play but couldn't find you.

It was no use to ask around, no one knew you as well as he did. Then he remembered seeing you coming out from the little storage room near the auditorium and going there.

He doubted it at first but when he swung the door open, he found you stood facing the wall with your forehead pressed on it.

"I'd like to be alone, please?" You said without knowing that it was him who entered the room.

"It's me," he let you know.

The closer he got, the more he saw you and your shaking hands with your eyes screwed shut as if it hurts to live the real world.

He stood behind you and heard you humming a tune to yourself yet your breathing was irregular, quivering.

Felix braved to take a closer step until he was close enough to you and slowly slipped his fingers into the spaces between yours.

"You're going to be alright," he whispered to the nape of your neck.

At first, you just stood there frozen in front of him, soulless like you were just a mere vessel with no life inside. Then your fingers closed around his fingers and clasped them with his.

Felix let out a delightful, sigh of relief.

Driven by the urge to comfort you, Felix got a little braver and decided to put both of your clasped hands around you, holding you from the back.

He almost held his breath, afraid of what your reaction would be.

You retracted your head from the wall and sighed, "can we stay like this for a moment?" You asked.

Felix's heart dipped and twinged, partly happy because this was also what he wanted. Also sad at how broken you sounded.

"Yes," he answered and held you tighter, hoping that you could absorb the warm feeling that overflowed inside of him or take a piece of him with you if that would make you feel better.

When you let go of his hold, he voluntarily took a step back and gave you the space you need.

"It's probably my turn in a few minutes," you said without turning around to face him.

"Good luck!" He said.

You walked to the door and left him there.

It was a shame he couldn't see you performing but he hoped things went well with you.

He made a run to your studio after the last class and saw you were just about to open your cello case.

You were rather surprised to see him, bending down with his hands on his knees and panting.

"Are you okay?"

"How was..." he paused to catch a breath, "how was the recital?"

You stood and fixed the hem of your skirt, "it went well."

Felix let out a long, deep breath like a lump in his throat has gone down his windpipe.

He went up to you and locked your cello case back, then slung the strap on his shoulder,

He grabbed your hand and gently squeezed, "Let's skip practice today!" He suggested.

You went quiet for a few seconds before nodding, saying to his idea.

After having an early dinner together, you walked around the park, then sat on a bench while having ice creams yours was vanilla and he was peanut butter chocolate.

"When your hand was bandaged?"

You were looking at the fountain and listening to the water, you nodded to his question.

"You said you don't know if you still wanted to play," he continued.

"Why did you say that?" Felix asked.

You threw the napkin you had been holding into the trash bin and wiped your palms on your thighs, "I just feel like... I don't think I'll play cello for long," you stammered, you didn't exactly have the answer to his question and you had been asking the same to yourself as well.

"I don't have the same passion I used to have when I play the cello," you said.

You sounded so small when you said it and Felix understood that feeling, he believed you were simply stuck in a slump.

"Why not rekindle it?" He asked.

"Huh?"

"You know I had one of those times and what I did is retrace my steps back to the beginning," Felix turned his head at you, "I danced to the dance I did at the school audition and it took me back to that time, reminded me of why dancing is my true passion,"

Felix rested his hand on the space between you and him, "well, that always works for me," he nonchalantly said.

You lowly chuckled, "Yeah, maybe I should try that," you said.

You leaned forward with your hands on the edge of the bench, "You auditioned and passed on your first try,"

"I think that's kind of explaining what kind of dancer are you," you continued and looked at him.

"What kind?" He asked.

"A talented one," you answered.

Your eyes met in a tender gaze and somehow the night got warmer, your cheeks heating all of a sudden.

He drove you home, helped you take your cello case from the backseat, and handed it to you.

"Thank you for dinner!" You said, put your cello case against the wall next to the door of your house.

"No problem," he shrugged and slyly smiled.

"You want to come inside?"

As much as he wanted to say yes, he had to decline this time. He believed that day had been overwhelming enough for you.

"No, maybe next time," he kindly refused.

"Why? Are you scared of me?" You teased but you seemed so serious when you asked him that.

"Why should I be scared of you?" He asked back, the question seemed to make no sense to him like you asked him if he believes that the earth is flat.

"Everyone else does," you meekly said.

"Everyone else is stupid," he simply stated.

Felix took a step back but stopped, "consider doing that retracing I told you about," he said.

You nodded.

"Alright then," he felt like didn't want to leave from the way he took a slow step back.

He stopped on his track again and looked over at you, "Goodnight!"

You walked up to him and didn't want to think about anything else but just do it, you leaned in for a kiss.

When your lips touched, it felt like you floated above the ground and he held you to keep you from flying away.

It took a moment for Felix to properly return your kiss, holding your jaws and keeping your head still, so he could deepen the kiss.

Your mouths locked, keeping you on the ground.

He angled your head to the side and he went to the other, prying open your mouth with his thumb pulling down your chin and letting him taste you more.

Your hands balled into fists on your sides and closed your eyes, your lungs shrank with every breath he took through the kisses.

But you were willing to stop breathing if you could keep kissing him.

He ended up being the one who let go first, slowly until your lips parted and a sigh escaped both of your mouths at the same time.

Your eyes snapped open and found his looking into yours, it felt strange that you found those eyes welcoming and inviting you in with open arms.

Unlike the eyes that stared at you when you walked down the school hallway.

You looked away and softly chuckled, "Goodnight!" You awkwardly said, then back to the door of your house. You didn't look back, afraid that you'd run back to him.

-

Felix heard something.

He is not the type to listen to what people talked about and spread around the school.

Well, except, it has anything to do with you.

He was busy practicing he didn't get a chance to meet you after school and turned out you left early that day, leaving him with no choice but to come to the florist shop.

"I know you," your mother said the second he got through the door of the shop.

Felix smiled, flustered.

"I'm looking for-"

"My underperformed employee?" Your mother continued his sentence with a playful guess.

Felix stifled a nod with a grin on his face, it felt nice that your mother is a very warm person.

"She's not working on Friday," she informed then glanced down at her wristwatch, "but I think she must be home by now," she said with a smile.

"Okay, I'll see her there then," Felix said with a sheepish smile.

"And please tell her to order something for dinner, her father and I will be going to the market," she asked for a favor.

"Will do!" Felix kindly replied.

With the address your mother gave him, it only took him less than a half-hour to get to your house. He parked the car right out front and rang the doorbell.

You seemed calm to see him or maybe it was him who expected you to be excited to see him. Either way, Felix was ecstatic for both of you.

"Hi, come in!" You skipped on exchanging pleasantries and let him into the house.

You stood there in the middle of the room, you shoved your hands in the back pockets of your jeans unsure what to do even though you were in your own house.

"Did I disturb you?"

Because you seemed to be in the middle of something and he probably interrupted you.

You shook your head, "no, I was just in my room," you answered.

"I bought dinner for us," he said, showing you a bag of food in his hand.

"Nice!" You beamed.

"The kitchen is here," you led him further inside and started taking out plates from the cabinet.

"I came by the florist shop and your mom said you're not working on Friday," he said.

"That's because I have to meet my shrink every Friday afternoon," you explained then placed the plates on the dining table.

"Is that also why you left the school early?"

"Yes," you helped him take out the food from the bag and prepped them on the table.

"I heard something," Felix hesitated to ask so he stopped himself from continuing.

"Of me getting called to the dean's office?" You guessed.

"Yeah," he meekly answered, "You're not in trouble, are you?"

You laughed it off, "it was my fault that I rejoin the orchestra without telling but no, I'm not in trouble," you assured him.

"Then what got you called to the dean's office?"

"Because he wanted me to rejoin the orchestra," you simply answered.

He was right, he shouldn't have listened to the baseless rumor spread in the school.

"That's great!" He commented with a grin.

"I just thought that I need to retrace my steps," you said and glanced at him.

You washed the dishes after dinner and Felix volunteered to dry them with a towel, standing next to you against the kitchen counter.

"Your mom said she'll be going to the market," Felix informed, relaying the message from your mother.

"They must be getting big orders," you said, drying your hands after finishing the dishes.

It was so quiet inside the house that made Felix realize there were only you and him in there, also knowing that your parents won't be home made him a little too excited.

"You want to come up to my room?" You offered out of the blue.

Felix swallowed. It would be okay if any other girl asked him, or anyone for that matter. Except you, you're not just "any other girl", you are the girl, the only girl.

"If you don't mind," he said.

You chuckled, "that's why I'm asking,"

Felix grimaced and scrunched his nose out of embarrassment.

"My room is upstairs," you informed and led the way, climbing the stairs to the second floor, then letting him into your bedroom.

He spotted your record player was still turned on and some records were scattered on top of the rack.

"What were you listening to?" he asked.

You put the needle back on the record and music started filling the room.

To his surprise, you listened to a band he knew which came as a revelation to him. He was so vain to ever think you would only listen to classical music.

Felix took a look around the room, at the posters hung on your wall, of your favorite movies and bands then at the photos on the top of your drawers, your book collection, and everything in your room that describes your personality.

When he had enough of looking, he turned around and saw you already sitting at the end of your bed, hugging a cushion on your lap with your fingers playing with the tassels.

He hesitated to sit there next to you but why would he want to sit elsewhere?

Ever since that kiss, he wanted to be anywhere close to you.

"You're not practicing today?" You asked, breaking the silence.

"I don't have to practice for this week," Felix answered with a grin, he was glad that he had so much time to spend with you without having to feel guilty about skipping practice.

"How did it feels to rejoin orchestra?"

"I don't know," you honestly answered, your palm rubbing over the velvet fabric of the cushion like you would to your cello strings.

Felix learned this habit of yours from watching you practice, you do that whenever you're nervous. He decided to offer his hand and clasped it with yours on top of the cushion, "don't think too much," he suggested.

"Just do your part. That's enough," he added, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb.

What was it about him that made your guard crumble in a second?

You melted into his embrace, resting your head on his shoulder, and sighed.

"Thank you for the other day," you looked at your hand and his laced together, how perfect they looked like they were one set from a different pair.

Felix knew you were thanking him for what happened in the small storage room.

"To be honest, I didn't know that would work," he said with a low laugh, a little shy.

You looked up at him, "I also didn't know why but I feel comfortable around you," you muttered.

He looked down at you and didn't hesitate to kiss you first this time, so tenderly as if his lips brushed something as fragile as a flower petal.

He put his other hand around you, enveloping you in his hug, and drew you closer without unclasped his hand from you.

"Felix?" You called without opening your eyes.

"Yeah?"

"I never had sex before," you told him.

You were always straightforward, but he didn't expect you to say such things bluntly like that.

He caressed your cheek with his knuckles, "We don't have to do anything."

You shook your head, "I want you to be the first for me,"

Again, your bluntness slightly shocked him.

That should be a dream, right? To get this close to you, touch you, kiss you and then take things further with you. Everything went well and he likes you, but that is also the problem.

He likes you too much.

"We don't have to hurry," he assured you or it was him who needed the time to prepare himself.

You put your hand on his that was resting on your jaw, "Is it too fast for you?"

Felix got caught with your question that he got speechless. He sighed with his eyes fluttering shut, "I like you so much," he said.

"And I like you too," you said back without a beat.

"What's the problem?"

Felix squeezed your hand and stared into your eyes, "I'm afraid that I can't help myself," he shyly admitted that his deep voice sounded small.

You pulled his face close by his chin and kissed him, "here I thought I wasn't attractive enough for you,"

"You are beautiful to me," he genuinely praised, emphasizing the word to convince you how much he admired you.

You looked into his eyes and let yourself drown in them, helplessly falling deeper into him.

He brushed your hair and put it behind your ear, "you are so beautiful that I can't look away," he praised again.

The kiss he placed on you escalated things toward what you wanted. He took you down with him onto the bed, holding you with his mouth latched with yours, kissing you as if that was breathing to him.

You took turns to strip each other's pieces of clothing until there were none left on your bodies, no inch of skin left uncovered.

Felix had to pause a few times to keep his brain functioning as the urge to just sit and looked at your beautiful body kept bothering him.

Felix lowered himself on top of you, skin on skin, flesh, and bones, limbs tangled together, hands all over each other's bodies making a mess out of your bed. He kissed your open mouth and from there, started making a long trail of kisses down your body.

He placed wet kisses on your breast to finally take your nipple in his mouth, his tongue swirling around and licking it.

You moaned with your hands gripped the sheet underneath you.

Felix proceeded to the other one and did the same.

He used his fingers to smear his spit all over your nipple and played with it, to finally suck on it with his mouth.

Felix continued his kisses and stopped when he noticed that your body was shaking. He lay back on his side of the bed next to you and looked at you, your eyes closed and your chest heaving, breathing quickened.

He planted a soft kiss on your cheek, "are you okay?"

"It's just a little overwhelming," you stammered.

Felix decided to give you a moment and pulled up a duvet to cover both of your bodies while holding you close. He found your hand, your palm was sweaty and cold, slightly tremoring. He slipped his fingers between the spaces of your fingers and closed his hand together with yours to stop you from shaking.

"I'm sorry," you muttered with so much regret, especially knowing you both wanted it so much.

"It's okay," he assured.

He planted a searing kiss on your bare shoulder, "I'm happy just lying next to you like this," he said.

You gazed at him through your half-shut eyes, "can you stay the night with me?" You asked, nuzzling your head close to his.

"Of course," he answered.

He pulled the duvet higher until you were covered to your neck and held you closer until there was no gap left between your bodies.

You seemed so small and fragile in his hold, he wanted to protect you more. But all this watching you while you sleep made him lose track of time, he only realized it was close to the morning when he noticed the dawn had risen through your bedroom window.

He felt bad for waking you up but the thought of leaving you without saying anything bothers him so much.

He gently caressed your cheek and squeezed your shoulder, kissed your face until he opted to shake your shoulder awake

Your eyes fluttered open and squinted to make out his face against the dim of your room.

"I have to go," he spoke so low to not startle you.

You put your hands under your head and nodded.

"I'll see you at school," he said with a smile.

"Okay," you croaked.

He placed a long kiss then got off the bed, and started dressing up while you watched him with your hands clutching the duvet.

He waved his hand at you and tried his best not to make any sound when he cracked open the door. Felix saw that the van of your florist shop parked in front of the house and that only meant, your parents were already home.

He climbed down the stairs and decided to get out through the kitchen door, his hand was already on the doorknob when your mother caught him with a cup of tea in her hand.

"I'll pretend I did not see you," she whispered, then turned her back at him.

Felix froze for a moment then slowly made his way out through the backyard, walked around the house to the front yard, and into his car.

Even the mere 5 hours of not seeing you felt like a long time for him.

He got excited to see you at school but unfortunately, your classes coincided with each other by the time it was lunchtime, you were already moved to your next class.

A little after that though, he noticed everyone was watching something in the auditorium. He went to check who was playing that got everyone's attention and parted the crowd to see you were playing a cello duet with another cellist.

It was a dream to see you play on a stage again, this wasn't exactly what he wanted but he knew he was getting close to seeing that dream coming true.

You ended the performance perfectly with a satisfied smile on your face.

Felix believed he only just saw the glimmer and soon he would see you become the brightest star once again.

He still had a little time before his class begins and he didn't mind being late for a few minutes, he waited outside the auditorium for your class to finish.

He pulled you the moment he saw you got out of the door and he didn't wait to kiss you, a long peck on your lips.

He didn't care if anyone saw, they can say whatever they want and he wouldn't care.

"Gosh, you were so amazing," he muttered against your lips because he couldn't wait to praise you.

You accepted his praise by replying to it with a chaste kiss.

He groaned as he glanced at the big clock on the wall behind you and he was already a few minutes late for his class.

You were aware of it and slowly pushed him away, "you'll be late for your class," you said.

He held your hand and didn't want to let go.

"I'll see you again," you said and took your hand from him, hoisting your cello case higher on your shoulder.

As you walked away from him, your shine didn't fade no matter how far you got and Felix guessed because you were already the brightest star to him.

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[eddiebillysteve]

a/n: idk it's sad boy hours and i just wrote a little blip based on this post, not really edited so anyway enjoy??? lmao (trigger warnings for abandonment/anxiety/mentions of the mindflayer and the ptsd billy has from it)

“You’re late, Harrington.”

Steve knew Billy didn’t like being late for anything himself, but he wasn’t expecting his anxiety around tardiness to be passed along to him, too. It wasn’t that he was one of those people that just showed up late to everything in general, it was just unpreventable sometimes. 

He didn’t think being late by a couple of minutes would push Billy back to the last name step. 

“Baby, it’s—“ Steve looked at his watch before looking back out the window at his scowling boy. “3:04. That’s hardly late.” 

“I didn’t tell you 3:04, did I? I told you 3.” Billy’s voice was a snap hard enough to make Steve wince. Their relationship hadn’t exactly been smooth sailing, but he thought he had been doing a good job teaching Billy about communicating why he was upset and angry when his temper arose. 

“I know, Bills. Get in the car and I’ll explain,” Steve sighed softly, gesturing with his hand out the window for him to get in the passenger seat. 

Even if it was only four minutes, Steve still felt guilty. He was the one who insisted on dropping and picking Billy up from the pool every day instead of spending the money to get his camaro fixed. It was under the guise of Steve wanting to be helpful and doting, and saving money, but they both knew how badly Billy’s hands shook when he reached for Steve’s car door, how his fingers clutched the seat if they weren’t wrapped around a cigarette, how he couldn’t be in a car in the dark and how quiet roads made him cry. 

The mindflayer had done its damage on Billy in more than one way. His physical scars may have healed, but the mental ones were more present than ever. The anxiety that racked him, even with the amount of medications he took for it, was intense. He suffered from nightmares, hated the dark, could barely handle the cold without panicking. 

The blue camaro that had once been his safety, his baby that was a reminder of his life in California, had been turned into a constant reminder of the monster that had seeped into his body and nearly killed him along with so many others. 

But the anxiety over being late didn’t stem from being possessed by the mindflayer. Steve didn’t know where it came from. 

“Billy.” Steve reached for his hand when Billy was finally in the car, not starting up the engine yet. “Sweetheart, look at me, please? I’m sorry.”

But Billy still didn’t look at him, his watery eyes trained on the ‘Pool Rules’ sign he could see out the window. His jaw was clenched so hard to keep a sob from slipping out that he started to get a headache. 

“I’m sorry, okay? I gave Dustin a ride home and his Mom was feeling chatty. Wanted to introduce me to their new cat, as if I didn’t already meet the little thing months ago—“

“Fuck you, Steve.” The words took a few moments to sink in, and when he didn’t immediately reply Billy snapped his head over to look at him. “Jesus, Harrington, are you fuckin’ stupid? Just fuckin’ drive! Jesus Christ!” 

The angry words didn’t match the frightened eyes and tears dripping down his cheeks, and Steve took a deep breath. 

“Okay, so you’re angry—“

“I’m not in the mood for your bullshit communication speech. If you even say that goddamn word, I’ll knock your teeth down your throat, I swear to God.”

The swearing, the threats, may as well have gone in one ear and out the other. Billy always said a lot of words, especially when he was angry, and nearly all of them were ones he didn’t mean. Steve was used to wading through them to get to the real issue by now. 

“You’re angry because I was late,” Steve spoke carefully, but not in a condescending way. “You need to tell me why you’re upset that I was late so I know how to help you, Bills. Sometimes being late is inevi—“

“Because one day you won’t come, okay? One day I’ll be waiting, and waiting, and waiting, and you won’t fuckin’ show.” 

The words were enough to trigger the sobs that had clearly been building in the four minutes he’d been waiting, and Steve’s heart nearly shattered. “Baby—“

“Save it, Harrington,” he croaked out, clearly trying to keep up his angry persona despite the sobs. “Let’s just get it over with. Just fuckin’ leave already.”

“Listen to me.” Steve reached for Billy’s face, holding his cheeks in his hands to force Billy to meet his eyes. “I’m not leaving you. Ever. I want you, Billy, only you, as long as you’ll have me. What do I have to do to convince you I’m here to stay? Buy you a ring? Tattoo your name on me somewhere? Because I’ll do it. I’ll do anything I have to do to keep you from feeling like this again.” 

Billy’s sobs turned to heavy sniffles in Steve’s arms, feeling calloused thumbs wiping tears from his cheeks. “You can just not be late, but I do like that tattoo idea. Get my name as a tramp stamp—“ 

“Shut up.” Steve pulled him in for a kiss, both to cut off the idea and relay as much love and emotion as he possibly could. “I’m not going anywhere, baby. I promise you. One day I’m even gonna marry you, you’ll see.” 

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #my drabbles

[cockdestroyer32]

some plans...

tangerine x fem!reader

word count: 2k

tags: SFW, bickering, violence, murder (they are assassins after all), tension, drinking, rivals to (not really) lovers

summary: after reluctantly teaming up in order to survive, you and tangerine disagree about what would be the best plan to use, leading to you having to save him.

authors note: I have a really specific taste in fics and couldn't find too many that fit those strict requirements so I just decided to write one and post it lol. english is not my first language so if some things aren't correct, I apologize. anyway I love this man so much I'm abt to repeat his name three times in the mirror at 3am to see if he shows up in my room cuz I need him

The bar area was washed by the neon green light descending from the ceiling. Due to the lack of people in the room, the compartment was mainly quiet, with only the sounds of distant passengers chatting and the speeding train to fulfill that tranquility. You stood in front of the bar countertop, one elbow leaning on it, supporting the weight of your body, impatient. When you got particularly bored, you took a sip of the champagne you gave yourself the liberty of pouring. You usually didn’t allow yourself to drink on the job, but due to recent circumstances, you decided alcohol was a much-needed aid. Tangerine was “recent circumstances” of course. 

You did not, in any way, plan on teaming up with each other, but when the briefcase ended up being stolen by a third party, you found your goals aligning and decided to join forces for better chances of survival. But you truly did not expect Tangerine to be this much of a pain in the ass. You had always chosen to work alone, having control over jobs and only worrying about yourself had always been important, which is why this was so hard. Plus the fact that Tangerine was just incredibly difficult. Mainly that. Now you waited for him to return so you could continue on your little mission, and hopefully get off this train in one piece. 

You finally saw the man walking in your direction, he approached you and leaned his elbow on the countertop, mirroring you.

“Six men. Two guarding the first door, two the middle, and two the last door.” He said, looking at the passing city in the window.

“And that’s not counting the guys in the surveillance compartment?”

“No, only two there.”

“Alright. I got the 6.” You take a sip of your champagne.

“Now hold on there, darlin’ I can get the 6 guys.”

“Okay, well, so can I.”

“Well no offense love, but I can get this done way fuckin’ quicker than you.” 

You sigh. Here we go.

“Then what is your plan exactly?”

“What’d ya mean a fuckin’ plan? What do I need a goddamn plan for? Just get in there and take them on.”

“Really? That’s your plan?”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” He took your glass of champagne, allowing himself to take a sip, much to your displeasure.

“No offense, Tangerine, but going into a fight guns blazing isn’t exactly a tactic that works with six people, no matter how skilled you think you are.”

“Well, what is your brilliant fuckin’ plan? Enlighten me.”

“When you’re dealing with six highly trained guards all at once, your best course of action is to play a little pretend game, be obnoxious and separate a few from the rest of the group, therefore improving your odds.” You explained like an increasingly frustrated teacher on their 5th attempt at schooling a young child.

He then set your glass of champagne back on the countertop and slid it over to your side, as if saying ‘Mine, now…yours.’ “Oh so you’re gonna do some bloody theatrics is that right?”

“Yes. And they’re much more likely to believe the desperate young woman rather than the ‘Oi, now that’s bloody brilliant innit’ dude.” You mocked his accent.

“I don’t fuckin’ sound like that.”

“Beg to differ.” You mutter into your glass of champagne.

“Listen, we can stay here all night discussing what’s the best tactic to use but we are on a time crunch, and unless you let me do my fuckin’ part neither one of us is leaving this goddamn train because our corpses will be too busy being shoved inside some fuckin’ suitcases by some braindead White Death lackey.” 

He’s not wrong, you could stay here arguing all night, but you know the fucker isn’t gonna back down and there is no time, so…this time he’s gonna be having it his way. You sigh, now leaning with both elbows on the bar countertop, facing away from Tangerine, giving him no reply. He notices this quiet surrender, which of course, amuses him thoroughly. “Don’t worry love,” He continued with a smile on display. You take yet another sip of your champagne, apparently smudging your red lipstick. “Some plans…” He brushes his thumb over the corner of your mouth, cleaning it. “…are just better than others.” Then gives you the biggest shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen in your life. This little shit.

-

You made your way to the surveillance compartment with determination and poise, holding the big champagne bottle you “borrowed” from the bar, which you grievously emptied in the sink. This was going to be over quickly, and hopefully so would Tangerine’s fight. You did not have time and the necessity for a dead Tangerine on this train, you could use all the help you could get, even if that help came in the form of an incredibly irritating man with a thick mustache and a somewhat funny British accent. You couldn’t fight the six men together in case one team decided to radio the other, if no one radioed back and they noticed something sketchy was going on, they could call for backup, the last thing you fucking needed. 

“Excuse me.” You calmly announced yourself to the soon-to-be-dead men in the compartment. The room wasn’t very big, with only a small desk and a few shelves to the back and left side of the room— understandable, given all they had to do was sit and watch the security camera footage of the different parts of the train, primarily the dividing compartment, the one Tangerine was soon to be in.

“Ma’am, you cannot be in this area.” The shorter one snapped. 

“Just give me one-second sir,” You requested, holding up your finger. You set the champagne bottle down on the floor to your left, and took off your low heels, setting them down neatly to your right. The men waited in confusion, most likely assuming you were just some drunk. You picked up the bottle with your right hand.

“Okay. Let’s go.” You launched the bottle on one of the man’s faces with as much force as you could muster, then ran to the second man, wrapping your legs around his head and leaning forward, dropping you both to the ground then punched the back of his head. You kick the ankle of the champagne-bottle-struck man who falls to his knees, then kick him again in his bleeding face, knocking him out. The man you were on top of pushes you off of him, leaving you lying face up, he gets a punch in, then proceeds to strangle you. You stick your fingers inside his eyeballs causing him to loosen his grip around your neck, you push him off of you, then roll your body on the ground positioning your legs so they’ll be next to his head, proceeding to strangle him with your thighs. You hold him in a tight grip until you hear his neck snap. 

You get up off the ground and analyze the two men. Champagne bottle man was knocked out, still very much alive, so you pick up one of the glass shards from the shattered drink and stab him in the heart. Good, you’re done. You brush off your pants, adjusting them, and the screen gets your attention. It’s Tangerine, and he’s getting his fucking ass kicked. Whenever he tried to get a punch in, someone else behind him managed to strike him first. You sigh. Bloody theatrics. Those bloody theatrics could have saved you from this trouble. The men then take him to a compartment right after theirs, forcing him to sit down. The men talked a bit amongst themselves, and left him, thankfully, alive. Two men stayed back in his compartment to watch him. That’s your cue to go save this damn stubborn man.

-

“Hello? Please, please help me!” You sobbed. I mean seriously, you were actually sobbing— tears were streaming down your face, your voice was cracking…you could win a fucking Emmy with just how good your goddamn performance was right now. This was about to be the best bloody theatrics Tangerine has ever seen in his life.

“Ma’am you can’t be in here!”

“Please, please help me I’m begging you! There’s an insane British man chasing me and I think he’s trying to kill me!” The, now four, men exchanged glances with each other, knowing exactly who you were talking about and wondering what the fuck they would do with you now. “Please! I think he’s coming and I really need help, please!” You wailed, getting louder, they’re going to have to help whether they want to or not.

“Okay! okay lady, we’re going to hide and protect you okay?” One of the men seethed.

“Thank you, thank you!” You cried some more. The man took you to a tiny bathroom next to the room you were in and shut the door.

“Alright ma’am, you’re gonna need to calm down a bit, then we’re going have to find another place you can hide in alright?” He stated, not even bothering to try and sound the least bit empathetic. Now expressionless, you turn to him, smudged black makeup under your eyes making you look even more deranged. His face drops and he doesn’t have time to react to the ceramic soap dispenser you strike him in the face with. It hits him with strength, so his head bounces back hitting the wall and he falls to the ground, causing a loud thud. You get his gun, which thankfully has a silencer.

“Hey! Is everything good in there?” Our number one out of three knocks on the door. You turn the handle slowly, then open the door as fast as possible, twirling Number One around and using him as a human shield. You shoot Number Two, then Number One who you throw in front of Three to block his view, when that’s done you also shoot him. You finish off the man in the bathroom before positioning your back against the wall, waiting for one of the men who were on Tangerine-watch to come out. When he does, you kick his knee, hit his head with the gun, then shoot him in the head. You hear Tangerine wrestle with the other man who was left with him. The fight quiets down, and you take a peek— Tangerine was, expectedly, the winner.

Now, you were the one with the shit-eating grin, not bothering to hide your smugness, and wearing your pride like a badge instead.

“Don’t fucking give me that look alright? If it wasn’t for the little shit hiding behind me every time I tried to make a move I would’ve won the fight.” He stated, seemingly trying to convince himself more than you. He was way more disheveled than the last time you saw him at the bar, his face sweaty and hair untidy, with wild curls falling in front of his face, much different than the slicked-back look he had beforehand.

“Mm, I don’t think so.”

“I’m a good fuckin’ fighter okay?”

“Oh I believe you, but like I said, it’s not about the fight, but the plan— my plan, which was better, and ended up saving your ass at the end of the day.” 

“Okay fine, yeah. Your plan was much better and we should have gone with it from fuckin’ the beginning, is that what you want me to say, love?”

“Thank you, and you’re welcome, now you know you should actually listen to me,” You slowly approached him. He stood with his hands on his hips, knowing he couldn’t give you any reply that would successfully defend him from this. “But hey, don’t worry about it, ‘cuz sometimes some plans…” You take another step towards him and tuck one of his loose curls behind his ear with your finger, tracing it down the side of his face, then letting it linger on his jawline. “…are just better than others.” You smile and give him two taps with the palm of your hand. Now you can both continue on your mission, and this time you’d do it with a smile on your face, knowing you proved Tangerine wrong. You are definitely not letting him forget about this. Ever.

#bullet train #tangerine #tangerine x reader #tangerine bullet train #tangerine x y/n #tangerine x you #tangerine x fem!reader #bullet train fanfic #aaron taylor johnson

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

#ACLA24 #ACLA24Leaders #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental justice #environment protection #environmental health #Youtube

[mr-and-mr-diaz]

so i’ve been thinking about it for an additional five minutes and here’s what i’ve got and its kinda blowing my mind. Each person in buck’s life either had a Moment with him either in the coma dream or at his real life bedside, with a few noted exceptions. I’ll explain:

Chimney: coma dream, and MY GOD did they make good use of him here. As the guy who is always first to believe in The Crazy he was PERFECT to be the guy who’s like “yeah alright, one ticket to the crazy train.” I’m sorry but Buck proving that he knew him by knowing why he’s called Chimney had me lollling

Hen: Sceptic. And in the coma dream as the milder voice of reason. Funny, and good at keeping things moving. She and Chimney were also great to have in imaginary land since they are the ones who are the most stable without Buck in their lives, likely because of how much they stabilize each other

Maddie: In the coma dream and IRL, but coma!Maddie is essentially Maddie from season 2. Literally heart breaking. Speaking of, my heart is still not over the way she saw the firefighter at the door and simply said “which one”

Athena and May: Buck’s (let’s face it) step-mom and by association, step sister. They’re in real life because without Bobby there, they don’t ever have much to do with him. They understand clear as day that Buck is Bobby’s other son, and they accepted it ages ago, to the point they find it amusing every step Bobby takes to realize it himself. (Back to Bobby in a moment.)

Eddie and Christopher: They’re of course in IRL because without Buck intervening as he does they wouldn’t have a place in his life or in each other lives (pause so i can SCREEEEEEEEEAM about this) In real life, they’re begging him to come back--or more accurately, Chris is, while Eddie stands silently behind him, barely able to see Buck and crying his eyes out. I think when Eddie wasn’t initially fighting for Chris to see Buck all Hospitalled Up, as it were, is because Eddie didn’t think Chris could handle it. The real truth of the matter is Eddie couldn’t handle it. We saw it ourselves--Chris was shaken, but able to pull himself together enough to say his piece and beg Buck to come back into their lives (insert couch metaphor here, y’all make it fit). Eddie could barely look at the bed, and when he did, his eyes filled with tears and he couldn’t speak. Eddie in the coma dream exists, is mentioned, but he’s lost in his anger, doesn’t have his life-lines to reach out for, is missing the man who has his back, and because of that lost everything. These two men truly are unanchored without each other, and without their son (yeah I said it, sue me), are missing a key element that makes their family a family.

Now Bobby. Bobby is the most notable one who is both there irl and in Buck’s coma dream. The man who entered his second marriage with a son he didn’t fully realize he had, though now he’s definitely realized it. The man who is dead without Buck in his life. Who stayed alive because one pesky kid had the gall to work his pesky way under Bobby’s skin and stressed him out enough to look after him and care and not stop caring until he had a whole goddamn family in his hands, both with Athena and at the 118. I’m still struggling to fully feel all the feels here and btw I think we need to take a moment to give MAD PROPS to Peter Krause for his turn as dead addict Bobby because he was fantastic.

It’s interesting, because for some reason in my head, I expected Buck’s coma dream to actually be really pleasant and happy and the lesson he learns is that life is hard but you gotta do it anyway and you’ll be rewarded for hard work. The coma dream was very different--twisted and, for all that Buck was in it, it was missing him like an open wound. I didn’t realize it right away, but Coma Buck is the Buck that’s born for parts, the Evan Buckley that Buck sees himself as in his own head. 

It’s the Buck that can’t help but reach out to help, that desperately tries over and over again to be the support that he himself is desperate for, that has irrevocably changed lives, with his worn heart out on his sleeve, collecting people that care about it without him really realizing, and in return making them care more about themselves, that makes Buck truly who he is, and makes his actual reality what it is. And that’s goddamn beautiful.

Please add your thoughts to this, my brain is still expanding

@loveyourownsmiilee @blutterlie @matan4il

#buddie #eddie diaz #oliver stark #eddie x buck #buck x eddie #otp: you two have an adorable son #otp: you can have my back #otp: i thought you just dress alike #9-1-1 #911 spoilers #911 season 6

[ticklishraspberries]

Shiver With Anticipation (Inej/Kaz)

Summary: As the couple grows more comfortable with physical affection, Inej finds out that Kaz is ticklish. Instead of striking then and there, she promises to remember that information for later, putting him on edge. (So...I accidentally deleted this fic off my blog, lmfao. Still not sure how, must have been in a 2am haze or something. Anyway, this was originally written for Day #1 of @august-anon‘s TickleTober prompts.)

Slowly but surely, Kaz and Inej were growing used to physical touch. It started with holding hands, first with his gloves, and then without. The first time they hugged, it had ended in mutual panic, but they had since gotten the hang of that, too. They even managed to kiss on occasion, but it was saved only for special moments, like when Inej first docked her ship back in Ketterdam after a few months away, or when she was about to set off to sea once again.

They could share a bed as long as they used separate blankets. Sometimes they woke up cuddled together, and most times, it didn’t put their mornings off to a bad start.

Inej’s issue was more with being touched, but she didn’t mind doing the touching. It made her feel in control of the situation. A reminder of her freedom. Kaz was the opposite; if someone else was touching him, he could feel the heat of their skin, the movement of their body, their pulse. Proof of life.

And so, Kaz kept his hands to himself and offered himself up for Inej to initiate touch, as long as he knew what she planned to do. First, she wanted to play with his hair, which he had enjoyed immensely. Then, she tried pressing soft kisses to each of his knuckles, bruised after a fight. It had been such a tender moment, Kaz could have cried.

Before her last departure, she had asked to try massaging his shoulders.

“You always seem so tense,” she explained. “I thought it could help.”

Although his pride wasn’t thrilled at accepting the offer, he found that it was hard to say no to Inej, especially when she had to be so goddamn kind about everything. Of course she would ask permission to help relieve some of his pain. That was just the kind of girl she was, and it was one of the many qualities that made him fall for her in the first place.

So, he had sat on the edge of his bed and let her kneel behind him, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders. Her thumbs pressed little circles into the muscle, and Kaz couldn’t help the small sound of pleasure that left him.

“Is this alright?” Inej asked.

He nodded. “I thought you said you’d never done this before.”

“Well, I may or may not have asked Nina for some pointers,” she replied.

As she worked the knots out of his back, he found himself relaxing into her touch more and more. He shut his eyes and listened to her hum a tune he didn’t recognize. It wasn’t until her hands moved up towards his neck that he felt goosebumps rise on his skin, but it wasn’t from a flashback. No, there was no nausea or panic, only the way that his nerves suddenly seemed on high alert, and the strange urge to…smile?

Well, shit. He thought he’d grown out of that. No one had roughhoused with him in such a way since Jordie died, and he had assumed that after a decade of being stony-faced and constantly pissed off that being ticklish had somehow escaped him.

Apparently not all weaknesses could be tackled so easily.

Inej’s fingers accidentally brushed against the side of his neck and sent him flinching away.

“Are you alright?” she asked, retracting her hands immediately. “I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?”

He shook his head. “No, no, you’re fine. Just wasn’t expecting it.”

Inej knew pretty much all of his secrets, but there was something so embarrassing about telling her the truth. He knew she wouldn’t tease him too harshly, and she definitely wouldn’t attempt to tickle him any further without asking, but it just felt vulnerable and childish to admit. His ears burned at the thought, and he prayed to the Saints he didn’t believe in that the blush would go unnoticed.

“Do you want me to stop?” Inej asked.

He turned to look at her, with her big, worried eyes and cursed himself for being entirely susceptible to the kicked-puppy expression. “No, you can continue if you’d like.”

She perked up, and it made his heart soar to know he had caused that happiness. He managed to keep still for a bit as she started to massage once again, but his nerves were alert and Inej’s touch was becoming far too ticklish for him to ignore. She had moved from his shoulders to his upper back, and her thumbs kneading into the muscle made him feel as though fizzy bubbles of champagne were running through his veins.

“The point of a massage is to be relaxed, you know,” she said. “If you aren’t enjoying this, I can stop. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Kaz sighed. “It’s not that I’m uncomfortable. I just…”

Inej scooted over so that she sat beside him rather than behind him. She didn’t speak, didn’t try to pry his words from his mouth sooner than he was ready to speak them. She just sat, waiting. Sometimes, the things that they tried just didn’t work out. They never shamed one another for needing a break or putting an end to it entirely. However, not speaking up in those moments was something that both he and Inej took very seriously. The last thing they wanted was to upset the other, to send Kaz back to the water, or Inej back to the brothel.

Yes, Kaz was a cheat and a liar and a pretty big asshole, but ever since he let his walls come down around Inej for the first time, he found it hard to put them back up. If Inej thought he was hiding his discomfort, he would feel as though he was betraying her trust.

“Don’t laugh,” he finally said. “And if you tell anyone about this, I will take the ship back.” It was a thinly veiled threat, but she got the message anyway.

Inej raised her eyebrows at the comment, but the words that followed were gentle. “I would never laugh at you.”

“You were tickling me,” he said, trying to ignore how warm his ears had become.

Inej didn’t laugh, although he swore that the corners of her lips tugged upward for just a second. “And so instead of telling me to stop, you were just going to hold your breath and try to ignore it?” she asked, voice thick with amusement.

Well, it sounded pretty stupid when she put it like that. “I didn’t want to interrupt you. You seemed to be enjoying yourself.”

She did laugh then, giving a fond shake of her head. “You know you can always ask me to stop.”

“I know.”

“Well, maybe next time I’m back from sea, I can find out where else you’re ticklish,” she said.

“Okay,” Kaz replied after a moment. Perhaps love had really made him an idiot.

Inej looked at him, clearly surprised that he had agreed to her half-joking suggestion.

The rest of their night went by without incident. They simply fell asleep beside each other, just far enough apart on the small mattress to be barely touching, only their fingers were lazily interlaced.

In the morning, Inej quickly pecked his lips before getting onto The Wraith and sailing off, leaving him on the dock like a wife watching her husband go off to war.

***

Inej was due to come home tomorrow, and the anticipation was eating Kaz alive. Yes, he was excited to see her. He was excited to kiss her, to see her smiling face. He had missed her terribly, all of the Dregs had, but he hadn’t forgotten her proposition in the month she had been gone.

It seemed that the universe was taunting him with it, as he watched Jesper squeeze Wylan’s knees beneath the table, or Nina prod at Matthias when they thought no one else was watching.

He had even tried to replicate the feeling on himself, running gloved fingers down the expanse of his own side, but it didn’t give that same goosebump-inducing sensation.

As Kaz tried to sleep, his mind was reeling. What if he hated it? What if it reminded him too much of Jordie, and sent him into a panic? What if he wasn’t half as sensitive as he thought, and Inej was disappointed? Or, what if he was twice as sensitive as he thought, and couldn’t handle it?

He felt ridiculous. He was the leader of the Dregs, Dirtyhands, the Bastard of the fucking Barrel and he was losing rest over a little tickling. When he finally willed his brain to shut up, he fell asleep and dreamed of Inej with mischief glinting in her eyes and a smirk curled on her lips.

The Slat was all aflutter the next morning, everyone buzzing in excitement for Inej’s return. Kaz, along with Jesper, Wylan, and Nina made their way to the docks when the sun hung high above the streets of Ketterdam.

It was a joyful reunion, as usual. Inej departed her ship with a glow about her, all the confidence and bravery of Captain Ghafa not a wavering mask, just who she truly was. She hugged Nina first, then Wylan, then Jesper, and then she reached Kaz, and her smile grew just a little wider.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” he replied.

She gave him a quick kiss, which still never failed to surprise their friends, and they were off to spend the day celebrating her return with drinks and probably a bit of crime.

Kaz found himself watching her hands all day: The way that she held her glass, fingers curled, almost poised in a claw. How she picked a lock, the precision and speed with which she moved. She would surely be the death of him, but he would be alright with that fate.

As the festivities died down, Kaz retired to his room. Usually, Inej spent her first night back in Ketterdam with Wylan and Jesper, so he began changing into his bedclothes and was startled when Inej’s voice came from his window.

“Please, don’t stop on my behalf. You never had a problem being half-naked in front of me before,” she teased.

Kaz’s ears turned pink. “I thought you’d be staying at Wylan’s tonight.”

Inej shrugged. “I can, if you want me to.”

He shook his head. “Stay, please.”

She didn’t need to be told twice.

As he finished changing, he handed Inej some clothes as well, respectfully averting his gaze to the papers on his desk as she put on the much-too-big clothing. The sight of her nearly swimming in his shirt made him smile.

“How was your trip?” he asked, placing his cane beside the bed before sitting, relieved to have the weight off of his leg after a long day.

“Productive,” she replied, sitting at the opposite end of the mattress. “Rewarding, you could say. But I’ll spare you the details this evening.”

“I can’t wait to hear,” Kaz said. “If you want to sleep, I can grab an extra blanket.”

“Trying to get rid of me so soon?” she asked. “If you’re tired, we can rest, but I still feel wide awake.”

“What would you like to do then, my darling?” he asked.

“Talk to you,” Inej replied. “Maybe hold your hand, if you’re feeling scandalous this evening.”

He chuckled. “Both of those are well within my ability tonight,” he assured her, reaching out his hand, gloves sitting on his desk a few feet away.

She took his hand and interlaced their fingers. Her skin was warm and smooth, save for the callouses on her fingertips.

“There is something else I’d like to do, if you’re up for it,” she said.

He had almost forgotten, but her words quickly sparked his memory. The feeling of anticipation set in almost instantly. Still, he played dumb. Nonchalant, if you will. “What did you have in mind?”

“I’d like to try tickling you, if you’re okay with it,” she said. Even she looked a bit flustered at the concept, which made Kaz feel slightly less silly.

He cleared his throat. “Have you been thinking about it since you left?”

Inej nodded. “You rarely let yourself laugh, or have fun. I think it might be nice to witness.”

“I have fun all the time,” he replied. “I find heists quite fun.”

That made her laugh, that carefree laugh that made him feel intoxicated. Perhaps he understood why she would want to hear the same from him.

“Have you thought about it?” she asked.

He nodded. “A bit.”

If she knew he was selling it short, she didn’t comment on it. Instead, she moved closer on the bed, so close that their knees brushed through the safety of cloth. “Well, where should I start then?”

It was rare that words failed Kaz Brekker, but Inej had a carefully crafted way of rendering his brain and mouth entirely useless. “I don’t know,” he replied. “Wherever you like, I suppose. I assume in a normal situation, I wouldn’t get much of a say in that anyway.”

“Is there anywhere I can’t touch?” Inej asked.

Kaz considered it. “My bad leg. And stay above the clothes, please.”

“Of course.”

The tension was thick enough for Inej to cut it with one of her many knives, and Kaz wasn’t sure if his emotions were better described as nervous or excited. The perfect middle ground between the two, perhaps. Gently, Inej coaxed him to lie back on the bed, and she sat beside him, cross-legged, seemingly scanning his body for a place to start.

Her hands slowly reached out and hovered a few inches above his stomach, making him instinctively suck in a breath. Time seemed to move in slow motion as she brought her fingers down and experimentally wiggled her fingers.

Kaz’s breath caught in his throat. The fabric of his shirt did little to dull the sensation, but the barrier was appreciated for reasons unrelated.

“Is this okay?” Inej asked.

He nodded, because if he opened his mouth, something embarrassing was going to spill out. Like a giggle, and Kaz Brekker did not giggle. His lips were already attempting to curl into a smile, but he sucked his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, refusing to give in so soon.

Her touch was still semi-bearable, more like an annoying itch than anything hysteria-inducing.

“I guess you aren’t too sensitive here,” Inej said, and he could hear the smirk in her tone. She was clearly enjoying herself, and Kaz…Well, he would die before admitting that he was too.

Fingers scampered over to his side, and the new spot sent him squirming away in surprise, a little huff of laughter escaping him. He opened his eyes with the intention of glaring at her, but he only managed to look stern for about a second before she picked up the pace, blunt fingernails scratching at the bottom of his rib cage, and the laughter spilled out before he could stop it.

It had been a long time since he had laughed like that, hard and without concern for seeming weak, or for keeping up the tough face of Dirtyhands. He felt youthful when he laughed that way.

Inej smiled down at him, bright and genuine. If it took making a fool of himself to see that smile, Kaz would become a jester for the king of Ravka. He would fumble every game of cards, let Jesper tease him more often, do cartwheels through the streets. All to make her smile.

Her fingers brushed a sensitive spot by the top of his ribs and the noise that escaped him was much higher in pitch than he thought he was capable of. To save what little amount of dignity he had remaining, Inej did not comment on it. However, she did hone in on the spot, searching for the sound again.

Kaz brought a hand up to cover his face, hoping to both muffle his laughter as well as hide the color rising in his cheeks.

“You don’t have to hide from me, Kaz,” Inej said softly. “I love hearing you laugh.”

Her words were enough to make him melt. Tentatively, he let his hand fall from his mouth, just for a second, so that she could hear the raspy sound of his laughter.

Inej only tickled him for a bit longer, not wanting to wear him out. The sound of her laughter intertwined with his residual giggles and attempts to catch his breath.

“Was that alright?” she asked.

Kaz nodded, because he didn’t trust himself to speak truthfully if he opened his mouth. It was hard for him to admit things, sappy or flustering things specifically.

She grinned and leaned down to kiss him, softly and he returned it.

They did go to sleep then, the spare blanket pulled out of the closet and the two of them curled up on the mattress. Kaz fell asleep with a smile curling his lips, secretly hoping that Inej would do that again soon. He had waited so long for her to follow through on her words, so he figured it was only fair to indulge in the act some more. And besides, she had plenty more spots to find.

#kanej #kanej fluff #six of crows #soc fic #soc tickle fic #soc ticklefic #grishaverse #grishaverse fic #shadow and bone tv #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #kaz x inej #inej x kaz #fic #raspberry writes #six of crows fic #ticklish kaz brekker

[theoncelee]

I made it all of one day keeping up with Tickletober. Stellar of me I know. So here’s yesterdays fic, I’ll hopefully be posting todays as well before the end of the day. I’m not super happy with this one but hopefully someone likes it haha.

Plus my stupid SAT studying brain kept lecturing me about grammar the whole way through this one. I had to keep reminding myself that I was writing goddamn fanfiction and it didn’t matter 😭😭

Anyways enjoy!! :)

Day Two- Drawn On

Fandom: MHA

Ship: Platonic or Romantic KiriBaku (lee!Bakugou ler!Kirishima)

Warnings: this is a tickle fic. Don’t read it if you don’t like that stuff. Some capital words but no entire sentences in this one.

A Paper Alternative

“Bakubrooooo I need your help,” Kirishima whined, barging into Bakugou’s dorm room with his spare key. Which was a normal thing to have, by the way, friends did that. Bakugou lazily glanced up from his phone, where he had been casually scrolling on his bed. Couldn’t he have one hour of piece without one of those damn extras bothering him? But it was Kirishima, so of course that came out as “sure, what’s up?

“I need to practice for my art project, can I use you?” The redhead asked. “What?” Bakugou replied, utterly confused. “Don’t you have paper, shitty hair?” “Well, yeah, but I don’t wanna ruin my good art paper before I know what I wanna do!” Kirishima explained, slightly embarrassed. “Tch, fine shitty hair. Do whatever,” Bakugou relented, collapsing back onto his pillow. “Awesome, thanks bro!” Kirishima beamed. He carefully placed himself on top of Bakugou’s thighs, rolled up Bakugou’s shirt, and grabbed his pens and markers. He took his first pen and lightly touched down on Bakugou’s toned stomach, focusing on his sketch. Luckily for Bakugou, that meant that Kirishima didn’t notice Bakugou’s eyes practically bulging out of his head at the sensation. The pen tip was smooth and relentless, unlike anything he’d ever felt before. And FUCK it TICKLED. Kirishima was Bakugou’s best friend and the only one he allowed to come close enough to touch him. Bakugou hadn’t been tickled since he was really little; he’d honestly forgotten he even WAS ticklish. But fuck was that smooth pen gliding up and down his torso jogging his memory. Although, if he was more honest with himself than he wanted to be, what Kirishima was doing really didn’t feel all that bad. It was kinda nice. The only problem was keeping quiet so Kirishima wouldn’t notice.

That all changed when Kirishima started coloring. The felt tipped marker he was using tickled WAY more than the pen, and coupled with the consistency of Kirishima’s back and forth coloring motion Bakugou was DEAD. He jerked with a yelp before he began squirming for real. Kirishima looked up and saw Bakugou’s beat red face and strained smile and quickly put two and two together. His expression softened, but he decided to fake obliviousness for a little while longer. “Geez Bakubro, what’s got you all squirmy today?” he asked as he began coloring a very large shape at the bottom of Bakugou’s ribcage. “ngh, just, hurry uhup shihity hairr,” Bakugou strained, “I dohon’t have ahall day you kn-know.” Kirishima just chuckled and continued.

The biggest problem for Bakugou, was that the longer the tickle went on, the more ticklish it got. He was like a giggly bomb, destined to break if Kirishima’s incessant scribbling didn’t FUCKING STOP. When Kirishima scribbled the marker in Bakugou’s navel, Bakugou honest to god SQUEALED. With the damn broken, he collapsed back onto the bed in a fit of the SWEETEST giggles Kirishima had ever heard. “What’s the matter Bakubro? Ticklish?” Kirishima teased. And if he noticed how Bakugou barely fought back as he finished his picture, he never mentioned it.

The drawing ended up coming out stellar, a gorgeous tree with its shimmering branches reaching out all over Bakugou’s torso. And while Bakugou kicked Kirishima out of his dorm and threatened murder, he definitely dreaded having to shower the next morning and wash it off.

#kiribaku #kiribakutickle #tickle fic #my fics #augtickletober2022 #mha tickles #lee!bakugou #ticklish!bakugou #ler!kirishima #drawn on

[distinctlywhumpthing]

would aiden be able to correctly say leo’s name, since he has problems with his speech? would it be different to the whole master / mister situation ? but on the other hand, if he did that would probably mean he would recognize that he is somewhat safe (and not expected to be a pet) ? which would make me just sob

Unintentional 24

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As always, beta-read by @alittlewhump <3

CW: BBU-adjacent, institutionalized slavery, dehumanization. Explicit language. Surgical/medical whump, hospital setting.

“Alright, up you go.” 

Leo had to let Aiden’s hand go to move out of the way so Delia and Noah could help him out of the wheelchair to sit on the bed of the MRI machine. Aiden looked like he was holding his breath, all wide-eyed under the doctors’ hands even though neither one was wearing gloves and they kept up a steady stream of reassurances. 

It reminded Leo of that first day when the kid had grabbed a paint scraper and made like he was going to attack but went blank as soon as Leo touched him. It had happened a couple of times since. Aiden would just remove himself from the equation entirely like he had no say or didn’t want one. It always unsettled Leo. 

“You’re doing great,” Delia said. “Have you had an MRI before?” 

Aiden nodded, one bob of his head followed by the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed nervously. The tears had started as soon as they’d entered the room. Just silently falling but he kept his jaw set in what Leo hoped was determination. 

He gave Aiden his best reassuring smile, shifting from one foot to the other, hands jammed in his pockets. He didn’t want to crowd them but he felt weird standing away and just watching. 

But what could he do? 

This might be difficult but it was also important. Leo had already tried his luck going in blind and that had almost ended in catastrophe. He needed to know more if he was going to do a better job. 

They’d explained it to Aiden and he’d agreed. 

It wasn’t like Aiden was going to be able to tell them what he’d been through or what suffering he might still be enduring. He’d had already done so well with the IV and letting Delia redress his arm. 

Were they asking too much of him? 

Just because the MRI was painless didn’t mean it would be easier but his earlier successes had seemed promising. Still, there was no telling what kind of history they were pushing Aiden to confront with this next ask. It wasn’t as if his agreement offered any reassurance either.

He’d agree to fucking anything and everything. Whatever he thought they wanted or needed no matter what it cost him. That was the whole goddamn point of the Companion enterprise. Aiden had been relieved of his agency. It didn’t matter if they asked and triple-checked or praised him for giving them some answer so maybe the next one would come easier. It was asking too much of him. 

Delia had told Leo it was dubious consent and that it was all they could get at this stage anyway.

They needed these answers. They needed fucking anything to go off.

This was their best chance. 

“Okay, so you know what to expect…” Noah started to explain the process anyway. 

Aside from his eyes, flicking between their faces, blinking tears free with each pass, Aiden was perfectly still. Leo couldn’t tell if Aiden had stopped holding his breath yet. Probably not because Delia was checking over his bandages one more time. Leo didn’t know what he could do to make this any easier.

When Noah lifted some plastic contraption off the table, Aiden hiccuped a sob. 

Delia rubbed his back. “Are you doing alright?”

He nodded but also seemed to sink a little deeper into being absent, gaze becoming less focused. 

It made Leo’s chest feel tight. Or maybe it was residual stress from sneaking through the hallways to get here.

“Alright, let’s get you settled in.” 

He cleared his throat to ask if Aiden needed a minute but Noah was already helping Aiden lie down and he was going, if a little too easily. They pulled a blanket over him and then started fitting the headframe. 

When Delia snapped the first clip closed, Aiden whimpered and grabbed hold of the edges of the bed, fingers creating visible dents in the plastic cushioning. 

Leo halved the distance between them without even realizing he’d moved. “Aiden––”

“You doing alright, Hon?” Delia asked. Leo held his breath, waiting for the answer.

“Mmm…yeah…mmm’good….mmm’sorry...mmm’sorry…” His voice was thin with hardly any weight behind it. 

“It’s okay. You’re doing great, Aiden.”

Snap. 

Aiden continued the string of mumbled apologies. A reflex. One that he was so accustomed to, he didn’t even notice he’d forgotten to turn it off. 

Snap.

His voice started fading, down to syllables breathed instead of words spoken. The pauses between growing longer, sounds coming slower. 

Snap. 

Like he was drowning. 

Leo craned to see Aiden’s face over Delia’s shoulder but he couldn’t find the right angle in the spaces between the headframe and Noah fussing over the machine settings. Delia was explaining what she was doing, speaking to Aiden normally. He was probably fine. 

Well, not fine, but as good as he could be, all things considered. It would be counterproductive if the kid saw him panicking. Leo forced himself to take a deep breath. He was just tired and irrational, strung out on adrenaline and a healthy dose of guilt. 

Which was even worse now that he’d put this burden on Aiden’s shoulders, all the pressure to get answers. He wished he could have been good enough to not need them. 

He jammed his fists back into his pockets and made himself step back, swallowing his discomfort. 

There was no way he could have heard it.

He probably just imagined it. 

At the same time as the last snap.

And Noah saying, “Alrighty.” 

And Delia repeating, “All set. You’re doing great.” 

Maybe he felt it more than heard it. A tear falling, his heart beating. 

“…Leo?” 

It felt like the floor fell out from beneath him.

“Wait, stop!” He rushed forward. “Delia, take it off.”

She hesitated, hands hovering above the last clip. “What?” 

Aiden’s gaze was unfocused but his face betrayed no signs of discomfort.

“He said—I thought…” Maybe Leo had just imagined it. But the uneasiness continued to sink into his diaphragm, making his chest feel tight and his hands tingle. Things hadn’t felt right from the second they’d walked in here. “Never mind. Just take it off, it’s not okay. This isn’t okay.” He started fumbling with the clips himself until Delia and Noah took over, quickly removing the frame and helping Aiden to sit. 

He blinked at Leo. Well, more like at the wall beyond Leo’s left ear. Attentive but avoiding direct eye contact. Like he had done something wrong. He thought he was in trouble. 

Leo’s urgency evaporated, replaced by guilt and a familiar ache. He was always one step off-beat. Too little, too late. He took a deep breath and tried to keep the intensity he was feeling out of his voice. He’d already scared Aiden enough. “Sweetheart, you’re good. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s okay.” 

Wide, shining eyes finally slid over to meet his. 

“Hey—” He reached out to wipe a tear off the boy’s cheek with his thumb. “Aiden, you don’t have to do the scan. I was wrong. I thought—” 

Aiden tipped into him and as soon as Leo hugged him back, he looped his arms around Leo’s neck and started sobbing. 

“Okay, okay. Alright, sweetheart.” Leo wrapped his arms tighter around Aiden and pulled him close. Gave him the kind of hug he’d always been afraid would feel like a trap. He was starting to see it had a different purpose. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you, Aiden.”

Maybe Leo had only imagined Aiden saying his name but at least it meant Leo had heard him when he wasn’t okay. 

Delia wrung her hands. “I’m sorry, Leo. I thought he was managing—”

He waved her off, shaking his head. “It’s okay, my fault,” he whispered. “Can you give us a minute?”

“Of course,” she said quickly, turning toward the door. 

Noah hesitated and looked at his watch but Delia clicked her tongue and grabbed him by the sleeve. 

Aiden had settled into crying quietly, something closer to whimpering. 

“Hey, come on. Let’s get you away from all this.” Leo slid an arm under Aiden’s knees and scooped him up. He carried him into the observation room on the other side of the glass. They hadn’t turned on the lights in here so it wasn’t as bright. Just a couple of chairs and three dark monitors on the desk facing the window. 

Leo wished he could carry Aiden straight home where he knew they were safe. As safe as they could ever be in this situation they’d found themselves in. 

They would get there. 

Right now, they had a shrinking window.

He carefully set Aiden in one of the chairs and stepped back to pull one over for himself. 

That’s when he saw it. 

Aiden’s hands, resting in his lap. A posture so ordinary, he would have dismissed it immediately to look somewhere else. Aiden’s hands were shadowing Leo. Millimeter by millimeter. He never would have noticed if he hadn’t been watching it happen. 

Not following but reaching. 

It was so simple. How had he been so blind? 

He sat as close as he could, so their knees were almost touching, and gathered Aiden’s shaking hands in his own. Aiden held him back, fingertips curling into his palms and wrists. Trying to tether himself to the contact, to the closeness, to the comfort. 

It was so fucking simple. 

Aiden only held on tighter when a tear slid down Leo’s cheek. 

And then the words came tumbling out, breathless and without any pause because he couldn’t let Aiden wait another second, not even for Leo to compose himself with a breath. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Aiden. I’m sorry I didn’t get it and I didn’t see you. I’m so sorry you were alone. I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t found you in time. I’m so sorry.”

Aiden opened his mouth like he was going to say something. Closed it instead and shook his head. His eyes fell from Leo’s face, his brow knitting together, and he started to pull his hands away. 

“Hey, look at me.” Leo held onto both of Aiden’s hands in one of his and used the other to lift Aiden’s chin. “It is not your fault, sweetheart. We’re going to figure this out. Together, I promise.” 

Aiden searched his face, just like always. 

This time was different. Leo could see it was more, feel it was more. It wasn’t simply Aiden searching for a trap or a threat, purely defensive. 

It was equally vulnerable. Always had been. 

Aiden could still manage to strike a match amidst all of the darkness he had encountered and still had shadowing him. Unfailingly producing a fragile flame to hold up to Leo. And in doing so, illuminating just as much of himself. 

It was an opportunity, it was a chance. 

To shelter the delicate light between them and share in its warmth. 

To be seen, to be known. 

And Aiden was inviting him. Aiden was giving it to him. He wanted Leo to step closer, cup his hands around the flame and never leave him in the dark again. 

After a minute, Aiden held onto Leo again, just a little more timidly than before, and Leo had made up his mind. 

It was so fucking simple. 

He took a deep breath. “Aiden, I need to tell you something.”

 

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@octopus-reactivated @maracujatangerine @nicolepascaline @mazeish @whumpy-writings @cracked-porcelain-princess @meetmeinhellcroutons @briars7 @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @neuro-whump @painsandconfusion @wolfeyedwitch @skyhawkwolf @haro-whumps @onlybadendings @peachy-panic @fillthedarkvoid @rabass @crystalquartzwhump @dont-touch-my-soup @jadeocean46910 @mylifeisonthebookshelf @hold-him-down @guachipongo @creetchure @leyswhumpdump @aseasonwithclarasblog @catawhumpus @magziemakeswhatever @the-magpiesystem @pigeonwhumps

#bbu #whump #bbu whump #box boy rescue #rescue whump #recovery whump #bbu adjacent #clinical whump #medical whump #hospital whump #whumpee thinks caretaker is new master #clueless caretaker #touch starved #hospital tw #restraints tw #sort of #this one is pretty fluffy #at least by my standards #😈 #tell me if you think he really said it or not #;)