#posts that are like something I roll over to scribble on a notepad and then go back to sleep

[givehimthemedicine]

something something fucky timelines and 1984 and 1988 were leap years. does anyone wanna do anything with that. *gestures vaguely*

[cvntydazai]

the regulars

you catch the eye of two regulars that come to the diner you work at

pairing; dazai osamu x fem!reader x chuuya nakahara

word count; 3.6k

content warning; nsfw (minors do not interact!), threesome, unprotected sex, mentions of alcohol, mentions of suicide (it’s dazai obv), degrading (dazai calls reader a slut), lowkey meandom!dazai, softdom!chuuya, oral sex (m&f receiving), backshots.., reader is held hostage (not by dazai or chuuya), cursing, unedited writing, probably a lot more

authors note; my first post on here! i’m pretty proud of this!

the diner was almost quiet in the mornings, very few customers and even fewer employees were present. it was usually just yourself and the cook until around noon when the lunch rush hit, but that was okay with you.

it allowed you catch up with whatever hobby you had going on at that moment, this time it was crocheting. whatever online forum that promised you it was easy was lying, you could barely finish the small square you had started.

just as you were beginning to grow frustrated you heard the familiar ding of the diner’s door, alerting you of a customer.

the brown haired man was sopping wet, a dreary gaze in his eyes as he shuffled to an empty table and awaited your service. you jumped to, notepad and pencil already in hand as you approached him.

“i don’t recall rain being on today’s forecast.” your weak attempt at a joke flew over his head entirely.

“oh, it’s not raining. i was trying to die in the river.” the confession didn’t surprise you as much as it should have.

there was talk of a man who was always spotted trying to drown himself, you assumed it was rumors.

“hmm, didn’t seem to work out.” it was the only response you could muster for the bizarre statement.

he opened his mouth to respond but as he lifted his eyes to meet yours he stopped, mouth agape and eyes wide like he had a groundbreaking revelation upon catching your eyes. you cleared your throat, cheeks growing warm from his staring.

“i didn’t realize i was in the presence of someone so beautiful. how rude of me not to greet you with the respect you deserve.” a cheap compliment, but his confidence when saying it was cute.

“what can i get you?” you changed the subject, tapping your pencil to your notebook.

“your number, if it’s available.” with rolled eyes you sighed, he overdid it now.

“let’s start off with your drink, what can i get you?” with a bit more push you questioned him.

“whatever type of whiskey you have.” you hummed, quickly scribbling down his drink and scurrying off to grab it.

when you went to the back the line cook was there prepping for lunch, he only greeted you with a small smile.

his eyes widened when he saw the whiskey you were pouring into a glass.

“a bit early for that, isn’t it?” you snorted.

“it’s for a customer.” he didn’t continue but you could feel his judging gaze.

after delivering the odd man his drink and a bit more bickering you got him to finally order something. just as he was leaving the restaurant got busy so you didn’t have time to wave him goodbye before he was out the door. and that was it, you expected to never see him again.

your shift was usually from open to close, so you swallowed your odd interaction you had that morning and continued on with your day. you got through the lunch and dinner rush without issue and now it was just you and the closing cook.

this was a normal day for you, working long hours and making poor pay. the tips were nice, but did they make up for all the rude customers you face on a daily basis?

you hear the ding of door, it’s ring echoing through the empty restaurant. with 45 minutes until close you wanted to tell whoever was there to leave, but your moral compass fought back with you.

a short man wearing a long coat and a strange looking hat. he was alone, you were thankful for that. you didn’t need a large party right before close.

when he sat down you finally approached him.

“hello, what can i get for you?” he didn’t look up at you, his eyes still scanning the menu.

“just a beer.” a strange request to ask at such hour, especially with a bar being just a couple of blogs down the street. you didn’t voice these thoughts with your customer and instead went to fetch his drink.

when you returned you saw that he was writing down notes in a notebook that he quickly pushed away when he noticed you looming over him. you smiled, setting down the drink and also taking a seat directly across from the stranger.

he shot you a strange look, one that held a mix of curiosity and annoyance.

“we close soon, thought i’d keep ya company.” he scoffed.

“how generous.” laced with sarcasm but there was a small smile playing on his lips.

you two talked for only a little bit, you asked him about what he was writing but he mentioned that it was classified, having something to do with his job that he wouldn’t reveal. eventually you both had to go home as the restaurant was closing. you were surprised by just how fast the time had come and gone when talking to the stranger

“i can walk you home, if you want me to.” he offered, to which you smiled.

“i’m gonna catch the late night bus, but thank you mr..”

“you can just call me chuuya, it’s nice to meet you y/n.” he said, his eyes trained on your nametag.

and then you parted ways, that was what you assumed to be the last of him.

thoughts of the two strange men you met today danced around in your head until you finally succumbed to the exhaustion of the day, the exhaustion that would follow you into the morning for another shift.

the very next day, your next shift you were surprised to see the brunette from the last morning. he waved, noticeably brighter this time around.

“goodmorning!” he yelled, motioning for you to come over.

you complied as he took your hands and sat you down beside him. with little shame he flirted, his mouth moving so fast you could barely keep up. you were able to introduce yourself to him and he did the same, he revealed that his name was dazai.

“would you do me the honor of committing a double suicide with me?” he asked for the millionth time, his bandaged hands snaking up your wrists to hold you tenderly.

“you’re cute, but no.” and with that you shook him off, his hands flying back dramatically.

he stuck around for a bit longer, you made sure he had enough whiskey to keep him busy. sometimes you would catch his gaze as you worked and he’d flash you a pretty smile.

but the times when you would look and he wasn’t staring he’d usually be rubbing his finger around the rim of the glass with his other hand supporting his resting head as he stared out the window in deep thought. you couldn’t help but admire the man, he was attractive.

and just like yesterday he left during lunch rush and your day continued on. and into the night you would encounter yet another familiar face.

chuuya sat in the same spot as he did last night, his arms crossed over his chest as he waited for you to approach him.

“seems like i have two new regulars.” you muttered under your breath as you made your way to him.

he ordered just a beer again and you once again sat down in front of him to chat. you were lucky he came in so close to closing so you usually weren’t even busy.

you chatted for a bit and then, just like yesterday you both got up to leave and he offered again to walk you home. you would just take the bus again.

this routine of your morning regular and your night regular became an almost everyday thing. sometimes one of them wouldn’t show and it worried you but they always showed up again the next day.

you got to know the two of them well, it occurred to you one day just how different they were from eachother. the only similarity was their love for booze, and how much of it they could drink.

somewhere down the line of this routine you started to catch crushes on both men. how scandalous, you thought to yourself. two men practically drinking themselves to death and you were swooning over both of them. who could blame you when they both gave you that certain look. chuuya more subtle than dazai by a long shot, but the ‘fuck me’ eyes they both gave you didn’t lie.

you shook your head, you shouldn’t be thinking these things about strangers that you barely knew. they were just customers, and that’s all they ever would be.

little did you know, they were both thinking the same thoughts about you. dazai hadn’t been able to keep you out of his head since the very first day you two met, for once he was glad his attempt at suicide failed him because it meant meeting you. chuuya was in the same predicament, he never planned on meeting you but once you hooked him in he couldn’t escape.

the pretty diner girl that has two very dangerous men roped in her smile.

when dazai came in the morning to the diner he was expecting to see you there, smiling and waiting patiently as always, but instead in your place was another waitress. he frowned, sitting down in his usual seat.

when the unfamiliar waitress walked to his table he immediately questioned her,

“where’s y/n? this isn’t usually her off day.” she seemed caught off guard, clearing her throat awkwardly.

“i’m sorry, i don’t know. she didn’t show up for her shift so i was called in, the owner tried calling her but she didn’t pick up.” something felt wrong, he felt it in his bones.

he excused himself, muttering something about only wanting to be served by you. just as he was standing his eyes caught a piece of paper hidden between the ketchup and mustard bottle that were displayed next to the menus on the table.

he took the folded up note and quietly exited the diner.

chuuya would experience the same oddity at a later time that day. he saw a different waitress and spotted the note.

and the note read that they were to both be at a specific location at a specific time.

said location was that of an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. it would occasionally be put on dazai’s radar if he was looking out for stolen goods or missing people but for the most part no one paid attention to it.

dazai arrived early, surprised to see a particular short man already at the entrance of the warehouse.

“what the hell are you doing here, dazai?” chuuya interrogated first, his voice on edge.

“i could ask you the same thing.” dazai shot back, a pout on his lips.

at first dazai suspected chuuya was behind this, but when chuuya explained your description and that he was looking for you he understood almost instantly.

“someone must have been watching us, found the opportunity to take advantage of the situation.” chuuya spoke, dazai humming in agreement.

“well, if i’m stuck with you at least be useful.” dazai said, walking ahead into the entrance of the warehouse with a shouting ginger following behind him.

the exterior looked better than the interior. old construction equipment everywhere with strange stains covering the walls and floors, it was definitely abandoned.

chuuya worried for you, not because he feared that you were hurt but because this place reeked. he could hardly imagine you being here, sitting somewhere in a cold dark corner with a dangerous person holding you hostage.

“someone’s got a lot of nerve to target her..” chuuya mumbled to no one in particular.

“they do, which is why we’re going to take care of whoever did this and get my woman back.” dazai responded, keeping his eyes peered for any signs of you.

“your woman? in your dreams!” chuuya let out a loud laugh that he hushed immediately after hearing what sounded like a cry coming from deeper in the warehouse.

both men sprinted forward, stopping once met with the sight of you chained to the floor with a man peering over you.

he turned to dazai and chuuya, a wide grin on his face.

you could barely see the scene before you, your head fuzzy from whatever the stranger had hit you with to knock you out. you barely remember how it happened, you only recall waking up in the dark with the man who abducted you.

just like before, everything was fading to black, this time your mind at peace now that you knew help was here. you didn’t know if it was the police or whoever, you didn’t care. just being content that someone came for you, you let the darkness consume you.

-

when you came to you saw dazai and chuuya standing over you, yet to see you were awake.

“don’t try to wake her up, she’s clearly exhausted, dazai. let her wake up on her own.” you heard chuuya’s voice along with a sigh from dazai.

“i just want to make sure she’s okay. especially after you carried her around like she was a damn ragdoll.” the brunette muttered.

“what else was i supposed to do? sit there and let that guy shoot at us?” you groaned, the loud noises not settling well on your ears.

everything went silent. both men stared down at you expectantly. you sat upright, wiping your eyes.

“dazai? chuuya? you two know eachother?” it was all you could muster, it made dazai grin.

“unfortunately.” chuuya mumbled, shoving away the arm dazai was trying to lay across his shoulder.

“i’ve got to say y/n, i’m hurt! i thought i was the only man in your life.” you ignored dazai’s dramatics, instead looking to chuuya for answers to where you were.

he explained the entire situation, after they “took care of” the person who abducted you, they brought you to chuuya’s apartment and have been waiting for you to wake up since.

the explanation made you realize just how awkward of a position you were in. you laid on the end of chuuya’s bed with the two men standing over you. you squeezed your thighs together and gathered your thoughts. this was not the time.

“this is a lot to wrap my head around.. why did they abduct me out of all people?” you knew you had been abducted and held hostage but you still didn’t understand why.

“oh, belladonna.” dazai cooed, his hand reaching to caress your cheek.

“they thought to take out our common weakness.” chuuya continued, his palm resting against the other cheek.

they didn’t need to finish their sentence, you already knew. the lingering gazes from both men at the diner, the flirting from dazai, the gentlemanly offers to walk you home from chuuya.

they were wrapped around your finger, they always had been. there was no more denying that fact, they had risked their lives to save you.

“i.. guess i should be thanking my saviors then, shouldn’t i?” a double meaning, they both knew it too.

“mmm, i think so. don’t you agree, chuuya?” the shorter man nodded in agreement.

dazai was the first to move, his hand that was on your cheek drifting down to your shoulder as he eased you further into the bed. you complied, wide eyes glancing between the two.

your back hit the cushioned mattress, dazai joined you on the bed, laying on his side as he peered down at your chest that held your racing heart. you saw chuuya kneel down and spread your legs further apart.

they both worked simultaneously, dazai undressing your top half while chuuya worked on the bottom. the feeling of their fingers grazing your skin left you overwhelmed, completely at their expense.

you were fully undressed in a matter of seconds, the cold air of the night nipped at your skin. suddenly feeling insecure you attempted to reach your arms down to cover yourself, dazai caught them, pinning them at your sides.

“don’t hide, beautiful. let us see you.” he whispered, his words holding authority that urged you to comply, you did.

chuuya’s breath fanned over your exposed cunt, shaky short lived breaths that told you he was just as nervous as you were.

“are you ready?” you nodded, closing your eyes in anticipation.

you felt his tongue make contact with your slit, a constricted moan left your lips out of instinct. dazai’s rough hand grabbed hold of your chin, forcing you to look in his eyes.

his warm brown eyes held a sinister glint in them. he dipped his head into your neck, sucking on the sensitive skin around your collarbone.

the noticeable contrast between the two showed, chuuya’s sweet licks to your pussy against dazai’s rough sucking to your neck. a mixture of pleasure in pain, the perfect balance.

chuuya made work of your cunt, acting as if he’d never get the chance to taste you again. his tongue darting in and out of your hole at a rapid speed you could barely keep up with. his mouth attacked your clit next, sucking on the bundle of nerves.

“chu.. ah!” he added a finger to your hole, curling the digit inside of you to hit the places he couldn’t reach otherwise.

he could tell you were reaching your peak, keeping a steady pace to bring you over the edge.

dazai could tell too, so he pushed chuuya away from you.

you whined at the loss of contact, gripping dazai’s shirt as a weak attempt to beg for more. you caught sight of chuuya, your juices all over his chin. he shamelessly licked the finger that was previously inside of you.

“can’t let him give you your first orgasm, beautiful.” chuuya bit back a snarky comment, instead listening to the painful erection in his pants.

“switch me places.” dazai spoke, chuuya agreed with little hesitation.

dazai was now by your legs and chuuya sitting behind your head. the brunette was quick to flip you on your back and position you just where he wanted. your ass now in the air with him lazily rubbing his clothed erection against your ass.

your head dangerously close to chuuya’s crotch, your shaking hands gripping both of his thighs. while dazai took off his pants you hastily aided chuuya with his.

dazai wasted little time, aligning himself with your entrance. his hands gripping your ass while he began with his first thrust, one reaching so deep he nearly bottomed out. a grunt left your lips, squeezing chuuya’s sensitive thighs as a way to stabilize yourself.

you felt chuuya’s soft hands reach for your hair, massaging your head whilst shushing your whimpers that escaped with each thrust dazai threw into your aching cunt.

once a rhythm was found you put your focus on chuuya’s painfully hard member. his eyes on yours the entire time as he watched you lick the base of his manhood until you reached the tip. he guided your head down his cock, small praises leaving his lips the entire time.

“our pretty girl, being such a useful slut.” dazai spoke, landing a smack on your ass.

you attempted to moan but your lips were occupied, drool escaping your mouth with every thrust chuuya delivered into your throat.

the speed of their thrusts beginning to synchronize, you felt your core squeezing dazai harder. it only encouraged him, knowing you were close to your peak.

it was all so overwhelming, bringing tears to your eyes as you attempted to take it all, to take all that dazai and chuuya gave you.

“so pretty.. taking us so well.” chuuya mumbled, wiping tears that began spilling from your eyes.

he looked at you as if you were the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen, despite your hair being a mess and your eyes being red from tears.

you were all close, that much was clear from the way dazai had began to shut up and chuuya’s silent grunts had turned into breathless moans. you were no better, one hand still resting on chuuya’s thigh while the other reached for one of dazai’s hands.

dazai’s hips sped up, squeezing your hand tenderly whenever he hits particularly deep.

he feels his orgasm creeping up on him, your tight walls leaving him a shaky mess.

he’s the first to come undone, his seed spilling into you with one finally push of his hips. his orgasm setting off chuuya, cumming into your warm mouth with a slew of curses leaving his lips.

you swallow every drop, chuuya wiping your mouth with his thumb before lifting your head up to plant a kiss on your lips. dazai still thrusting inside you, overstimulating himself to get you to your breaking point.

“m’ cumming!” you announced, heat pooling in your stomach.

“let go, belladonna.” and you did, cumming hard on his cock.

the room was filled with panting sighs and beating chests as you all collected yourselves. chuuya was the first to move, scrambling to his bathroom to grab a towel to clean you up. dazai cuddled you on the bed while chuuya cleaned you off, dazai stroking your hair whilst humming you to sleep.

you refused to let the tiredness take hold of you until both men were in the bed with you. when chuuya joined, you finally gave in to the sleep that was calling you.

you had never slept better, feeling safe in the arms of two strangers who had become regulars in your life.

[sugardollcurse]

Hello sugar — your posts showed up on my recommended and it struck such a nostalgic chord. I haven’t read Beatles x reader since I was 12 or 13 so it was a blast from the past in the best way! I love what ur doing and hope u continue to do what u do cuz it’s awesome and great fun. This is an atypical request but I’m a trans guy so I don’t fit the usual femme archetype, but if u could write any prompt with a gender neutral/masc reader that would tickle me pink. Thanks and much love ☃️🩵

𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑜𝑛’𝑡 𝑠𝑎𝑦 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑙𝑜𝑢𝑑 | paul mccartney x reader

𐙚 summary ; paul finds himself writing songs again. you're why.

𐙚 note ; hello darling !! first of all, what a message. you’ve just smacked me in the chest with joy. bless the algorithm for bringing us together after all these years. i adore you for saying something, and i’m thrilled to oblige. i hope you enjoy!!

Paul notices your hands before he notices your face.

It’s not that he hasn’t looked before... he has, often, to an embarrassing degree. But tonight it’s different. You're tucked in the corner of some half-dressed backstage room in Manchester, tie loose around your neck, sleeves rolled up. The lads are loud, chaos blooming around every corner: George tuning something with teeth, John trying to fix a kettle with a biro, Ringo muttering to his tea like it insulted him.

And then there's you. Leaned back in a fold-out chair, one foot propped on a case of cables, hands loose in your lap. Not doing anything special, not trying to be looked at. But Paul’s eyes catch there anyway. On the way your fingers tap a silent beat on your thigh. On the way they curl when you laugh.

He thinks, wildly: I want them on me.

He also thinks: don’t be a tit.

“Penny for your thoughts?” you ask, smirking.

Paul startles, eyes jumping to yours. You’re watching him, head tilted, that curious half-grin on your face. The one that always makes him feel like a bug under glass, but one you like looking at.

He clears his throat. “Was just-” He gestures vaguely toward the amp in the corner. “Wondering if that’s gonna short out again.”

You glance at it. “If it does, I’m not saving anyone.”

“Even me?” he asks, trying to play it off light.

You raise an eyebrow. “Especially you.”

Paul snorts, covers it with a cough. His fingers twitch like they want to write that down somewhere.

The night rolls on. Soundcheck. Rehearsal. People filtering in and out, stagehands and label folks and the usual whirlwind of cigarette smoke and misplaced instruments. Paul moves through it all in a daze, like his body’s performing from memory but his mind’s stuck on a loop.

Because here’s the thing:

You’re not in the band. Not exactly. You joined for the tour, assistant to the tour manager.

You’d walked in wearing a suit that didn’t care about your shape, boots that made your walk heavier, and a grin that gave absolutely nothing away. Paul had stared.

He’s still staring.

It starts on the bus, somewhere between Liverpool and Leeds.

You’re sitting across the aisle, bent over a notepad. Paul doesn’t mean to watch you. He’s got his own notebook open, lyrics half-scribbled and useless. But you keep licking your thumb when you turn a page. He watches the motion, the softness of it. He wonders what kind of paper it is. What you’re writing.

Then you look up. Meet his eyes. Paul panics, jerks his gaze away.

Later, at the next rest stop, you sidle up beside him while he’s sipping coffee from a cup too hot.

“What rhymes with ‘hesitate’?” you ask.

He chokes a little. “Er-meditate? Underrate?”

You nod like that helps, then nudge your shoulder against his. “Cheers, poet.”

And walk off.

Paul spends the next hour trying to rhyme something with your name.

⸻

You don’t flirt with him. Not exactly.

You do things that feel like flirting, though. You sit close when there’s space elsewhere. You compliment his handwriting. You touch his arm when you laugh.

But you don’t treat him special.

You talk to John like he’s your favourite sibling. You sit on the floor with George during long waits, arguing over chords. You let Ringo fix your tie once and didn’t even flinch.

Paul’s used to being the centre. The gravity. But around you, he feels like a satellite. Pulled, blinking, spinning.

And it’s bloody annoying.

⸻

Paul sits beside you on the stairwell. It had been maybe three years since you started working for them.

It’s a service exit, concrete steps, a rusted door behind you, some muffled bit of a night wind that smells like cigarettes and fry grease and road salt. Show’s been over an hour, but neither of you’ve moved. There’s something about the quiet after noise, the ringing in your ears, the thrum still stuck in your chest. Neither of you wants to break it.

You’re both bent at the waist, arms resting on knees, not touching. You pass him your cigarette. He takes it.

Then, a beat later, you say, “Been a long run, hasn’t it?”

Paul huffs out a laugh. “That’s one way of puttin’ it.”

You smile faintly, eyes still forward.

Another pause. Then you ask, “You ever think about what you’d do if it all ended tomorrow?”

He looks at you. You don’t look back.

“Y’mean the band?”

You shrug. “All of it."

Paul thinks on that. Takes another drag.

“Sometimes, aye. Not really."

Your eyes slide toward him, the corner of your mouth twitching. “And?”

“And,” he says, breathing smoke, “I reckon I’d miss the bloody racket.”

You chuckle. “Even the parts you complain about?”

“Especially those.”

He offers you the cigarette again. You shake your head.

“I think I’d miss the noise too,” you say. “But sometimes quiet’s all I want.”

Paul hums, low and thoughtful. “Y’always did like the edges of things.”

You glance over. “Edges?”

He shrugs one shoulder, lazy. “Y’like where the light stops. Where it gets quiet.”

You nod once. “Maybe.”

And that’s all. You sit in that. Two people caught somewhere between movement and stillness, the space where something almost happens.

When he gets up first, he doesn’t say anything. Just taps your knee lightly. You follow.

Paul became your closest orbit. The person you always sat next to on the bus. The one you traded books with, notes in the margins. The one who started writing a song every time you left the room.

None of it got spoken. Not directly. But he handed you his lighter when you needed it. Called you love once when he didn’t mean to. Slid his foot next to yours during soundchecks and left it there.

You existed in the ellipses of each other’s days.

⸻

The grass is cold beneath you.

It’s after a gig in Wales, summer near the end of its breath. Everyone’s inside but you and Paul, both stretched out under the open sky, backs against the hillside behind the venue. You’re half-dozing, picking at a fraying shoelace. He’s chewing a stem of grass like he’s got nothing better to do.

You’re quiet for a long time.

Then, still looking at the stars, you murmur, “I’ve been thinkin’ about packin’ it in.”

Paul turns his head. “Eh?”

You shrug, not quite meeting his eyes. “After this run. Maybe. Just feels like I’ve been running a long time and... maybe I’ve seen enough.”

There’s a beat of silence. He swallows hard.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I might.”

Paul’s heart stutters. His chest goes tight like it’s shrunk inside his ribs.

“Nah,” he says, but it comes out thin. “Y’wouldn’t.”

You don’t respond right away.

Instead, you turn and look at him, really look at him, eyes steady, like you’re trying to see the version of him behind the face. Trying to get past the cameras and vinyl pressings and headlines. Just him, in this field, with that fucking grass in his teeth and his curls haloed in moonlight.

“If I did,” you ask quietly, “you’d come with me, yeah?”

His mouth opens. Closes.

He stares at you like you’ve just offered him a way out of something he didn’t even know he was trapped in.

“…fuckin’ hell.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That a yes?”

Paul drops the grass stem from his mouth. His tongue darts across his lip, quick. He sits up a little, not straighter exactly, just more alert, like the ground’s shifted under him.

He doesn’t answer right away.

You wait.

Then, finally, in a voice so low it barely rises above the crickets: “I dunno.”

Your chest tightens, but you don’t look away.

“I mean,” he goes on, tugging at the grass near his knee, “if it were just me… maybe. But it’s not. It’s never just me, is it? There’s the band, and the tour, fuck, it’s not like I can just vanish, is it?”

You don’t say anything. Not yet.

Paul exhales hard, like he’s mad at himself.

“I want to,” he says. “You’ve gotta know that. Half the time I see you lookin’ out windows like you’ve already gone and I think, God, take me with you, but then I get in the room with the lads and I’m… I dunno."

He rubs a hand over his face.

“Feels like if I stop now, it all comes undone.”

You’re quiet for a moment, picking at a thread on your sleeve.

“I wouldn’t ask you to leave it all behind,” you say.

Paul looks at you, eyes tired.

“But if I did ask,” you say, slower now, looking at him like you’re trying to read him backward, inside out, “you’d want to. Yeah?”

He swallows.

“…Yeah,” he murmurs. “I’d want to.”

You don’t move.

Neither does he.

You just sit there, dusk creeping soft around the edges, the heat of the day finally dipping beneath your clothes. A wind comes over the hill and carries the scent of something blooming too late, honeysuckle, maybe, or something just like it. Paul’s fingers twitch in the grass like they’re reaching for something and not sure if they’re allowed.

So you reach first.

Your pinky finds his. Hooks it gently. His head turns toward you like it’s on a thread.

“Alright,” you say.

He blinks. “Alright what?”

“If you’d want to,” you murmur, “that’s enough.”

Paul looks at you for a long time. Really looks. His hair is messy, the collar of his shirt skewed, eyes soft with something he's never managed to write down. But you know it. You’ve felt it in the spaces where he looks away. In the places he lingers just a second too long.

“I’d want all of it,” he says, barely above a whisper. “Y’know that?”

“Yeah,” you say, and your voice almost breaks on it. “I know.”

The quiet stretches again, but it’s warmer now. Like it’s wrapped around you both instead of pulling you apart.

Paul leans in, so slow you could stop him if you wanted to. But you don’t. You never have.

His forehead rests against yours. Not kissing. Not yet. Just that.

Just breathing the same air.

The hill behind you is steep and the grass wet against your back. But here, like this, Paul’s lips barely brushing yours, it’s the most grounded you’ve felt in months.

“I don’t wanna lose you, y’know.” he says, like it’s the first time the words have ever touched daylight.

“You’re not going to,” you whisper. “Not if you keep meeting me here.”

“On this hill?”

You nod, forehead still resting against his.

And then he kisses you.

Not loud. Not rushed. Just a slow, certain thing, like he’s not proving anything anymore, just giving it. His mouth is warm, steady, a little unsure.

When he pulls back, you’re both blinking hard, dazed from something quieter than fireworks but bigger somehow. Like you cracked a seam in the universe and stepped through.

You tilt your head, rest it on his shoulder.

Paul lets out a slow, breathy sound, not quite a sigh.

“Think you’ll go?” he asks.

You trace a slow pattern on the back of his hand with your thumb.

“Don’t know,” you say. “But if I do… I won’t leave without saying it proper.”

He nods.

And then, quieter:

“If you do go,” he says, “I’ll write a song about it.”

You smirk. “Better make it a good one.”

He grins down at you. “Wouldn’t dare make it anything less.”

taglist: @sharksausages, @wavvytin, @wimpyvamps, @finallyforgotten, @lennongirlieee, @silly-lil-lee, @alanangels

[rootedinrevisions]

Friends (with Benefits) Don't: Part 8

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the final part of this story that I have written (as of right now). I'm going to try to get some of my other WIPs finished and posted but definitely may revisit Jake & Halo down the road because these two were fun to write about!

SUMMARY: After recovering from this mission Jake decides it's time to take Halo on their first date. But it has to be special. Dinner and a movie just won't do.

OTHER PART(S): PART 1 I PART 2 I PART 3 I PART 4 I PART 5 I

PART 6 I PART 7

WORD COUNT: 3.3k

WARNINGS: FLUFF.

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS BELOW

Jake had been thinking about this date for weeks. It wasn’t just any night out; this was their first real date—one where there weren’t any distractions, hospital beds, or work keeping them apart. He wanted it to be special, but not over the top. Simple, thoughtful, something that showed her how much she meant to him.

He wasn’t exactly known for being the romantic type, but with her, things were different. She made him want to try, to push past his comfort zone and show her how deeply he cared.

Jake sat at the small table in his apartment, a notepad in front of him, scribbling ideas. He knew the usual fancy dinners and upscale restaurants wouldn’t feel like them—too impersonal. He wanted this to be something she’d remember, something with meaning. His eyes flicked to his phone, the picture of her smiling after their impromptu boat ride last week was still his lock screen.

That’s when the idea hit him.

He dialed Penny’s number before he could second-guess it.

“Hey, Penny, I need a favor,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “How would you feel about letting me borrow the boat for the night?”

The conversation with Penny went smoother than expected, and before he knew it, the pieces were falling into place. A sunset sail, a quiet dinner at her favorite beachside spot, and, if he could manage it, a moonlit walk on the beach afterward. It was simple, but it was them.

He made a mental note to keep things low-key with the planning, wanting to surprise her. Jake smiled to himself, imagining her reaction when she saw the boat. He knew she’d be impressed. And if there was one thing Jake liked to do, it was impressing her.

Satisfied with his plan, he sent her a quick message: “Hey, beautiful. Wear something nice tonight. Be ready by 7. And trust me.”

Later that night, Jake could feel his heart pounding a little harder than usual. It wasn’t nerves—he was a fighter pilot, after all—but something about this night made him feel more grounded, more present than usual. This wasn’t just about impressing her; this was about showing her that he was serious, that their relationship wasn’t just about convenience or casual fun. This was real.

By the time 6:45 rolled around, Jake was standing in front of the mirror, straightening his shirt and adjusting his collar for the third time. He smirked at his own reflection, shaking his head. When had he become the guy who fussed over his appearance before a date? Normally a quick glance was all he did and then he was on his way. But with her, it felt important. He wanted to look his best for her, to show her he’d put thought into tonight.

He grabbed the bouquet of flowers from the counter—bright, colorful, and full of life, just like her—and gave himself a quick once-over in the mirror before heading out the door.

The drive to her place was quick, but it gave him time to think, to go over the plan again in his head. He wanted everything to be perfect, and he hoped she’d love the little surprises he had in store. He arrived five minutes early, because showing up late wasn’t an option tonight.

When he pulled up to her apartment, Jake’s heart did an extra flip in his chest. He spotted her silhouette through the window, moving around as she got ready. His stomach fluttered with anticipation as he parked the car and grabbed the flowers.

He took a deep breath and knocked on her door, his fingers tapping nervously against the bouquet. When the door opened, all the jitters melted away. There she stood, looking stunning, her smile lighting up the doorway.

“Hey, darlin’,” Jake said, flashing her a grin. “You look... wow.”

He held out the flowers, watching as her eyes lit up at the sight of them. They weren’t anything too fancy, just a simple bouquet from the supermarket, but the way her face softened when she took them told him everything he needed to know.

“These are beautiful,” she said, taking the flowers from him and inhaling their sweet scent. “Thank you.”

“Not as beautiful as you,” he teased, leaning against the doorframe as she turned to put them in a vase. He watched her for a moment, feeling that familiar warmth in his chest whenever she was near. She moved around the room with a grace that mesmerized him, and he couldn’t help but think how lucky he was to have her in his life.

“Ready to go?” he asked once she had the flowers arranged.

She nodded, grabbing her small bag and stepping out of the apartment. Jake offered her his arm, feeling her fingers loop through his with a sense of ease and comfort that he never wanted to take for granted.

“So,” she started as they headed toward his car, “you’re not going to tell me where we’re going?”

He shook his head, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Nope. You’re just gonna have to trust me.”

She raised an eyebrow but smiled, knowing that whatever he had planned, it would be worth the mystery.

As they pulled up to the marina, the sight of the boat waiting for them caught her eye, and a flicker of surprise crossed her face. Jake grinned at her reaction, parking the car and coming around to open her door.

“You ready?” he asked, offering his hand to help her out.

Her eyes darted from the boat back to him, a mixture of excitement and skepticism playing on her features. “Wait… you’re taking me on a boat?” she asked, biting her lip. “I didn’t even know you could sail.”

He chuckled, brushing off her concern with a wave of his hand. “I had some help,” he admitted, a hint of pride creeping into his voice. “Mav and Penny gave me a few lessons the last couple of weeks. Figured I should learn a thing or two.”

She raised an eyebrow, glancing back at the boat with a slight grin. “And you're sure you’re not just winging it?” she teased, trying to suppress her nerves as he led her down the dock.

“Trust me,” Jake said with a wink, squeezing her hand reassuringly. “I got this.”

When they reached the boat, Jake stepped onto the deck first, offering his hand to her once again. She hesitated for just a second, her eyes scanning the water below them before taking a deep breath and grasping his hand. With a gentle tug, he helped her onto the boat, steadying her as she found her footing.

“There you go, darlin’. Piece of cake,” he said, flashing her that signature confident grin.

She looked around the boat, impressed by how prepared he seemed. It was a calm evening, the sky above streaked with soft hues of orange and pink as the sun began its descent. The water was tranquil, barely a ripple as the boat gently swayed in the marina. Jake moved with ease, untying the ropes and readying the sails like he’d been doing it for years.

The boat began to glide smoothly away from the dock, and as they drifted farther from the shore, the tension she felt about his sailing skills began to melt away. The wind caught the sails, and Jake guided them through the water with confident hands on the helm, his focused expression softening as he glanced over at her.

“You’re really good at this,” she said, her voice full of genuine admiration. “I didn’t know you were hiding this talent.”

Jake laughed, shaking his head. “Guess I’m full of surprises.”

She leaned against the railing, watching the shoreline fade into the distance as the boat cruised farther out. The city’s lights grew faint, leaving only the sound of the water lapping against the boat and the breeze rustling the sails. It was peaceful—an entirely different world from the chaos and noise of everyday life. For the first time in a while, she felt truly relaxed.

Once Jake had guided them to a secluded spot far enough from the shore, he dropped the anchor, letting the boat gently float in place. He turned to her, the soft light from the setting sun casting a warm glow over them. Without a word, he moved toward her, his arm slipping around her waist as he led her to a cushioned spot on the deck. He sat down first, pulling her close until she was nestled against him, her back resting against his chest.

His arms wrapped securely around her, and she felt herself melting into his embrace, her body instinctively relaxing. She let out a quiet sigh of contentment, closing her eyes as the warmth of his body and the gentle rocking of the boat lulled her into a state of calm.

Jake pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, his lips lingering there for a moment. She smiled at the gesture, her heart swelling with affection. Everything about this moment—the boat, the water, the fading sun—felt perfect. But most of all, it was him. It was the way he made her feel safe, cherished, and utterly content.

“You good?” he asked quietly, his voice low and soothing.

“Mhm,” she murmured, tilting her head back slightly so she could meet his eyes. “I’m really good.”

He smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear before leaning down to place another kiss on her forehead.

“I’m glad,” he whispered, his voice carrying a rare tenderness that she’d come to love.

For a long while, they sat there in comfortable silence, just listening to the sound of the water around them. Her eyes fluttered shut again, and she felt the gentle rise and fall of Jake’s chest beneath her. His arms tightened slightly around her, and she couldn’t help but think that this—being in his arms, away from everything else—was exactly where she wanted to be.

As the sky darkened, the stars beginning to peek out one by one, Jake spoke again, his voice rumbling in her ear.

“You know,” he said, his tone playful yet sincere, “I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed anything as much as this.”

She smiled, opening her eyes to look up at him. “I have to admit, I wasn’t sure what to expect when you told me to trust you to plan the date.”

“And now?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Now… I’m really glad I did.”

His smile widened, and he gave her a soft, lingering kiss. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers, their noses brushing as they stayed close, neither of them wanting to break the moment.

“Good,” he said softly. “Because I plan on doing a lot more of this.”

They both laughed quietly, the sound mingling with the gentle splash of the water around them. As the boat rocked them in its gentle rhythm, she closed her eyes once again, allowing herself to fully sink into the warmth of Jake’s embrace. Wrapped in his arms, the world seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of them and the infinite possibilities ahead.

After their peaceful time on the boat, Jake helped her back onto the dock with the same care and confidence he’d shown before. The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky awash in purples and deep blues as they made their way along the beach to her favorite restaurant. Nestled right by the water, the restaurant had an outdoor patio with string lights casting a soft, romantic glow over the tables. It was the perfect spot—casual yet intimate, just like the evening had been so far.

As they approached the entrance, Jake glanced over at her, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Still trust me to make the right calls?" he teased lightly.

She grinned, giving his hand a playful squeeze. "So far, you're doing great, Seresin. Don't get too cocky, though."

He chuckled, guiding her inside, where a hostess greeted them with a friendly smile and led them to a table near the edge of the patio. The sound of the waves was a constant backdrop, soothing and rhythmic, as they sat down and settled in. Jake pulled out her chair, and she couldn’t help but smile at the small chivalrous gesture.

Once they were seated, she looked out at the view, the beach just beyond, with the moon starting to reflect off the water. “You really went all out tonight,” she said, a hint of admiration in her voice.

Jake leaned back in his chair, looking entirely at ease as he smiled at her. “Nothing but the best for you.”

Her cheeks warmed slightly, and she reached for the menu, trying to hide the flutter of butterflies that his simple words caused. As they browsed the menu, Jake snuck glances at her, admiring the way her eyes lit up when she looked over the options. The flickering candlelight between them added a romantic glow to the moment, and it wasn’t long before their waitress came to take their orders.

Once the waitress left, Jake leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on the table as he looked at her. “You know,” he began, his tone casual yet sincere, “I was thinking earlier... I’m pretty lucky.”

She raised an eyebrow, setting her menu aside. “Oh? How’s that?”

Jake’s gaze softened, and he reached across the table, his fingers lightly brushing hers. “I get to do this with you. I mean, I know I’m a handful sometimes,” he said with a playful smirk, “but you still put up with me.”

Her heart swelled at his words. “You’re not a handful,” she said, smiling warmly. “Well, okay, maybe sometimes.” She laughed softly. “But tonight... this has been perfect, Jake.”

He grinned, obviously pleased with himself. “Good.”

They continued talking, their conversation flowing effortlessly as they discussed everything from their favorite childhood memories to places they wanted to travel. Jake kept the mood light, cracking jokes and teasing her with that signature charm, but every so often, his compliments would slip through, genuine and heartfelt.

“You look amazing tonight, by the way,” he said at one point, his eyes sweeping over her with unmistakable appreciation. “I think I forgot to mention that.”

She blushed, ducking her head slightly. “You didn't, but I’ll let you say it again,” she teased, glancing back up at him. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

“Not so bad?” he echoed, feigning offense as he placed a hand over his heart. “Darlin’, I’m crushed.”

She laughed, reaching out to nudge his hand playfully. “Okay, fine. You look great, Jake.”

“That’s more like it,” he said with a wink, his grin widening as he took another sip of his drink.

Their food arrived not long after, and as they started to eat, the conversation became more thoughtful. Jake asked her about her week, genuinely interested in the small details of her day-to-day life. She found herself opening up more than she expected, telling him about work, her friends, and even the things that had been stressing her out. And the entire time, Jake listened attentively, nodding along and offering reassurances whenever she expressed a worry or frustration.

“You’ve got a lot on your plate,” he remarked after she finished talking about a particularly hectic project. “I don’t know how you manage it all.”

She shrugged, smiling softly. “I guess I just take it one day at a time.”

Jake reached across the table again, his hand resting on top of hers. “Well, if you ever need someone to help take your mind off it... I’m here.”

There was something in the way he said it—sincere and steady—that made her heart skip a beat. She squeezed his hand in response, grateful for his support. “I know. And I really appreciate that, Jake.”

They lingered over dinner, savoring both the food and the company. The beachside restaurant had become more lively as the night progressed, but for the two of them, it felt like they were in their own little world. Jake continued to sprinkle in compliments throughout the meal, each one making her blush or smile. And the way he looked at her—like she was the only person in the room—made her feel more special than she ever had before.

As they finished their meals, Jake leaned back in his chair, gazing out at the ocean for a moment before turning his attention back to her. “There’s one more thing we need to do tonight,” he said, his voice low and soft.

She tilted her head curiously. “What’s that?”

He stood up, offering his hand. “Come take a walk with me.”

She smiled, slipping her hand into his as she stood up. Together, they made their way down to the beach, the soft sand beneath their feet as the gentle sound of the waves filled the air. The moon had risen fully by now, casting a silvery light over the water, and the breeze carried the salty scent of the ocean.

They walked in comfortable silence for a while, her hand still in his as they strolled along the shoreline. Jake squeezed her hand occasionally, glancing over at her with a content smile. She couldn’t help but marvel at how thoughtful he’d been tonight—everything from the boat ride to the dinner to this peaceful walk had been perfectly planned.

“This is nice,” she murmured, breaking the silence. “I’ve always wanted to do this.”

Jake smiled, his eyes soft as he looked at her. “I remember you saying that,” he said, his voice warm. “Figured it was time to make that wish come true.”

She beamed at him, touched by his thoughtfulness. “You’re full of surprises tonight, aren’t you?”

“Maybe I’m just getting started,” he teased, nudging her playfully with his shoulder.

They continued walking until they reached a quieter part of the beach, where Jake suddenly stopped, turning to face her. There was a seriousness in his expression now, though the warmth and affection in his eyes remained.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” he said, his tone shifting.

Her heart skipped a beat, sensing the weight of whatever he was about to say. “What is it?”

Jake took a deep breath, rubbing the back of his neck for a moment before meeting her gaze. “I got my next deployment,” he said, his voice steady. “I’m staying at North Island for at least the next year.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, a rush of emotions flooding her at once—relief, happiness, and excitement all mingling together. “Jake... that’s amazing,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled, taking a step closer to her. “It means we’ve got time, darlin’. Time to figure this out... you and me. No more rules or boundaries. Just us.”

She felt tears prickling at the corners of her eyes, overwhelmed by the sincerity in his words. Without thinking, she threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. Jake wrapped his arms around her in return, holding her close as they stood there, enveloped in each other’s warmth.

As they pulled back slightly, Jake pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, then her nose, before finally capturing her lips in a gentle, lingering kiss. When they broke apart, their foreheads rested together, and the world around them seemed to disappear.

“I’m all in,” Jake whispered, his voice filled with quiet determination.

“So am I,” she whispered back, her heart full.

And in that moment, with the ocean stretching out before them and the stars above, everything felt right. It was just the two of them—together.

[redacted-anon]

Smoke and Mirrors

Pairing: Aaron Pierre x Actress!Reader, MBJ mentioned, Theme: Slow burn romance, professional and personal entanglements, unrequited love?, sfw

New to posting please interact and lmk what you think! :) -A/N

———————

The studio was alive with activity—cameras rolling, lights flooding the set, and the hum of chatter from the production crew. You sat on a plush chair across from Aaron Pierre, both of you dressed impeccably for your joint interview to promote the upcoming project you’d been working on together. It was the kind of film that already had buzz before it even hit theaters, the combination of your rising stardom and Aaron’s established talent making it an easy sell.

You adjusted the hem of your tailored jumpsuit and offered the interviewer a polite smile. The journalist, a sharp-eyed woman named Lisa, shuffled her notes before leaning forward with a practiced ease.

“First off,” Lisa began, “congratulations to both of you. This project has so much excitement surrounding it. The chemistry between your characters is electric on screen. How was it working together?”

Aaron turned to you with a playful grin, his presence as commanding off-screen as it was on. “She’s a powerhouse. Honestly, it felt like stepping onto the court with someone who’s always ready to play. It kept me on my toes.”

You laughed softly, your fingers toying with the rings on your hand. “Aaron’s being modest. He’s one of those actors who makes everyone around him better. Working with him pushed me in ways I didn’t expect.”

The exchange drew a delighted chuckle from Lisa, who scribbled something onto her notepad. “It sounds like you two really found a rhythm. Speaking of which, the fans have been curious about the dynamic you share. There are rumors about how close you’ve gotten during filming. Care to address those?”

Your stomach tightened, but your expression didn’t falter. “I think the dynamic speaks to the professionalism we bring to the table,” you said smoothly. “We worked hard to make the relationship between our characters authentic.”

Aaron nodded, his demeanor relaxed. “Exactly. When you’re in the zone, the focus is on the story and the characters. Anything beyond that is just speculation.”

Lisa’s smile turned mischievous. “Well, since we’re on the topic of personal lives, I have to ask: are either of you seeing someone right now?”

You froze, your breath catching for a fraction of a second. Aaron leaned back in his chair, a charming smirk playing on his lips.

“I’m single and ready to mingle,” he said with a light chuckle, the response landing effortlessly.

Your smile didn’t waver, but something twisted in your chest. You shifted in your seat, forcing yourself to maintain an air of indifference as Lisa turned to you.

“What about you?” Lisa asked.

“Just focused on the work right now,” you replied evenly. “Keeps me busy enough.”

Lisa nodded, apparently satisfied, and moved on to the next question. But the rest of the interview felt like you were on autopilot, your practiced responses masking the storm brewing beneath the surface.

Later that evening, you attended an industry gala—a glamorous affair where everyone from actors to directors mingled under the glittering lights of a grand ballroom. You’d chosen a sleek black dress that clung to your figure, its understated elegance drawing appreciative glances as you moved through the crowd.

Aaron was there too, his presence impossible to miss. He was surrounded by a small group, his laughter carrying over the music. You’d barely exchanged more than pleasantries since the interview, and part of you was grateful. Seeing him so nonchalant after his comment earlier made you feel foolish for letting it affect you.

You were nursing a glass of champagne when Michael B. Jordan approached, his easy smile and confident demeanor immediately drawing your attention.

“[Your Name], right?” he said, his voice smooth as silk.

You nodded, offering a polite smile. “That’s me. And you’re…?”

Michael chuckled, clearly enjoying your playful tone. “You’ve got jokes. I respect that.”

The conversation flowed effortlessly, his charm disarming you. He complimented your work, asked thoughtful questions, and made you laugh in a way that felt unforced. For a moment, you forgot about Aaron—or at least, you tried to.

But Aaron hadn’t forgotten about you.

From across the room, he watched the interaction, his jaw tightening with each passing second. He’d been trying to ignore the pang of jealousy that hit him when Michael approached you, but it was impossible. The easy way you smiled at Michael, the way he leaned in slightly as he spoke to you—it all set Aaron’s nerves on edge.

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. He excused himself from the group and made his way toward you, his presence commanding attention as he approached.

“Michael,” Aaron said smoothly, his voice calm but laced with an undertone you couldn’t quite place. “Didn’t know you’d be here tonight.”

Michael straightened, his smile easy but his eyes sharp. “Aaron. Always good to see you. I was just getting to know [Your Name].”

Aaron’s gaze shifted to you, his expression unreadable. “Yeah, she has that effect. Hard not to want to know her.”

The tension between the two men was palpable, and you felt caught in the middle. You cleared your throat, forcing a light laugh. “Alright, gentlemen. Let’s not make this awkward.”

Aaron’s lips quirked into a faint smile, but his eyes stayed on you. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Michael took the hint and excused himself with a polite nod, leaving you alone with Aaron. You crossed your arms, arching an eyebrow at him.

“Everything okay?” you asked, your tone light but probing.

Aaron hesitated, his jaw working as if he were choosing his words carefully. “I’m fine. Just thought I’d come say hi. Didn’t realize you were so popular tonight.”

You narrowed your eyes, your patience wearing thin. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He sighed, running a hand over his face. “Forget it. I’m just being stupid.”

“Aaron,” you said softly, your voice steady. “If you’ve got something to say, just say it.”

He met your gaze, his expression conflicted. “You really don’t see it, do you? The way he was looking at you, like he already had you figured out. It… it pissed me off.”

Your breath caught, his admission taking you by surprise. “Why would it piss you off?”

Aaron stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Because he doesn’t know you like I do. And the thought of him trying to get close to you when… when I’m right here…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I can’t explain it. It just does.”

The air between you was thick with tension, the unspoken feelings you’d both been avoiding threatening to break through. You searched his face, your heart pounding as you tried to make sense of the moment.

“Aaron…” you began, but he cut you off, his voice firm.

“I’m not saying this is fair,” he said. “And I’m not saying I’ve got it all figured out. But I can’t stand there and act like I don’t care. Not when it comes to you.”

His words hung in the air, raw and unguarded. For the first time, the walls you’d both carefully built seemed to crack, and you were left wondering if you were ready to face what lay beyond them.

The rest of the night passed in a blur, but his words stayed with you, echoing in your mind long after the gala ended. The question now wasn’t whether you could go back to the way things were. The question was whether you even wanted to.

———————

How’d I do for my first fic? 🤭 Planning on potentially making this kinda a series nothing too crazy tho. Trying to figure out how to make a master list so bare with me. Also if you have any tips for new writers please lmk like how to make headers and or just how to better improve the readability if need be. Thanks for the Support and please like if you want more (Have some stories in the draft I was too scared to post)! — Redacted

[h1nanii]

Silent tunes, played by you.

[CH1] [CH2 here]

(Sanji x Deaf!Reader | F!Reader) inspired by the 2004 Japanese Drama “Orange Days”.

[Fluff, Angst, maybe smut as the story progresses.]

Genre: Romance, Drama, Adventure, Slice of Life (with canon-verse context)

Setting: Post-Enies Lobby, during the “calm” moments on the Thousand Sunny

Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x Deaf!Female Reader (former musician)

Inspiration: Orange Days (2004 Japanese Drama)

———————————————————————————

The Violin That Couldn’t Sing

You are a former court musician from a peaceful kingdom, who lost your hearing after a traumatic explosion during a revolution. Your ship was attacked, and you were rescued by the Straw Hat Pirates. You now stay temporarily on the Thousand Sunny while they prepare for their next journey.

You used to believe the world was made of sound.

The warm pluck of strings. The hush of breath before a crescendo. The soft applause of children in the courtyard after each performance. Music was everything. Music was your language.

But the day the kingdom fell, the only sound you heard was the violent rush of wind as the palace exploded—and then, silence.

You woke up to a blurred sky and blood on your hands. Your ears rang for days before the silence became permanent, The time seemed to fly as you couldn’t hear the tick of the clock passing into 4 years. The revolutionaries hadn’t meant to kill you, but they’d taken everything just the same—your hearing, your home, your future.

Then, on the sea, a pirate ship attacked the vessel you escaped on. You expected death.

Instead, you found the Straw Hat Pirates.

A boy with a straw hat smiled like the sun and told you you could stay. A woman with eyes full of mystery gave you space. A reindeer-doctor patched your wounds. A cyborg asked if he could build you a new violin.

And the cook?

The cook stared at you like you were an aria he couldn’t quite understand—but wanted to.

Months had now passed & you settled quickly with the Strawhats despite the difficulties communication, Robin & Chopper were a big help as the two knew a decent amount of sign language themselves. Teaching a few phrases to the rest of the crew. It was a simple gesture but a great motion of comfort for the former musician. Feeling accepted into a family.

The galley smelled like warmth.

Not just spices or food—but warmth. Like comfort. Like the kind of room where you’d fall asleep before dessert, and someone would carry you gently to bed.

You stood in the doorway, hesitant. You could feel the hum of voices behind you—Luffy shouting something about meat, Chopper laughing, Franky yelling about cola—but the galley was quiet now. Or maybe that was just your world.

You stepped in.

Sanji stood by the stove, his sleeves rolled up, a white towel tossed over his shoulder. His back was to you, golden hair tousled as he hummed something you couldn’t hear—soft movements as he stirred a pot with gentle precision.

When he turned around and saw you, something in his face brightened. Like a sunbeam slipping through storm clouds.

He mouthed something you didn’t catch.

You pointed to your ear and shook your head slightly.

He paused, then smiled sheepishly and held up a small notepad again.

Glad you came. Sit. I made something special for you.

You raised an eyebrow but walked in. The table was set for one. Candlelight flickered lazily, casting amber shadows on the wood. You sat, uncertain, as he placed a steaming bowl in front of you.

Golden curry, fragrant and bold.

He handed you a spoon and signed—clumsily—“Eat?”

You blinked. It was a beginner’s sign. He must’ve practiced. You nodded.

The first bite hit like something you’d forgotten you missed.

Spices layered with care. Soft vegetables. Rice cooked just right. You closed your eyes for a moment, letting the flavor bloom against your tongue.

When you looked back up, Sanji was watching you like you were an opera.

He scribbled quickly. I wanted to cook something that speaks without sound.

You stared at the note.

Then you picked up your pencil and wrote underneath:

You succeeded.

He smiled wider than you’d ever seen him smile.

⸻

After the meal, he didn’t let you leave.

He handed you another notepad and gestured to the couch in the corner of the galley. “Stay,” he signed. It was awkward, but he was trying.

You sat. He poured tea.

Then, to your surprise, he brought out something wrapped in cloth.

Your violin.

Your breath caught.

It was the same one you had hidden away in the storage room—its strings worn, the wood dulled by salt and time. You hadn’t touched it since the day the world went silent.

Sanji sat across from you, carefully unwrapping it like it was made of glass. He didn’t say anything, but there was something quiet in his expression. Something… reverent.

He placed the violin on your lap.

You stared down at it.

“I don’t know how to play,” he signed, slowly. “But… I want to learn. From you.”

Your hands tightened on the wood. You hadn’t played in so long. Not since you could no longer hear the bow sliding across strings. Not since the sound of applause faded into memory.

Why? you signed.

He watched your hands carefully, then pointed to his chest.

“Because when I watch you hold it, I feel something. I think you do too.”

You looked at him—really looked.

This strange, loud, golden-hearted man. A pirate, a flirt, a fighter with hands made for fire and flavor. And now, somehow, he was looking at you like you were the most delicate thing he’d ever seen. Like he’d protect that silence with everything he had.

You swallowed the knot in your throat.

Then, slowly, you lifted the violin.

You didn’t tune it. You didn’t care about perfection.

You just… played.

A single note. Faint. Scratchy. But real.

Sanji’s eyes widened.

He didn’t hear it.

But he felt it.

You could see it in the way he breathed.

He placed his hand gently on the table, palm up—offering it, like a promise. Not demanding anything in return.

You reached out and placed your hand over his.

And in the quiet, between candlelight and curry and stars beginning to rise outside the galley window, something stirred awake in your chest.

A song you thought you’d lost.

———————————————————————————

[A/n: it’s been forever since I’ve written something on this account, I’m starting fresh with this mini-series and would love requests!! Feel free to let me know how you liked this story so far!]

[feelfreetopleasemexo]

I may or may not have added another fanfic carrying on the book of love request I got.....

The book of love, part two

That was the start of something....strange? Hilarious? Beautiful.

As the days passed, he continued to come to your desk and ask more outrageous requests.

"Fighting a dinosaur. Fighting Godzilla. Fighting with all might." As he studied your quick drawings he began to ask quiet questions.

"Why did you use that pen this time for the dinosaur? How did you make the smoke look so realistic? How would you make the eyes look angrier..." He was desperately trying to figure out how you managed to create such realistic drawings in a few seconds. The smile crept on your lips as you explained your techniques, you didn't dare take your eyes off the page as you felt the warmth of his questions deepen.

The next day, you noticed that he pulled out his own little notepad. It was small, one he'd probably stolen off midoriya after pummeling him for asking why he needed a note book. He didn't come to your desk all day, instead you noticed he was scribbling things down, furiously screwing it up and exploding it in his hands before scribbling again. Eventually after your last class ended, he walked past your desk as you were packing your books away and dropped a tiny piece of paper at your hands and stormed off. It was a tiny picture of two stick figures crudely drawn fighting each other, you assumed it was him and midoriya as one had big red eyes and the other was crying blue specks all over the place. Your heart swelled at his drawing, he had clearly tried to copy your methods as the sky was lightly shaded grey with the side of a pencil, the building surrounding the figures was lightly sketched, and the stick figures had a darker outline with flicks of lines to imitate movements around them. He had really tried with this picture, you could see how the page was crumpled slightly,  how he'd tried his best to be soft with the pencil, tried to use different line weights and tried to make the stick figures less....stick like. You carefully folded it and put it in the back of your book, a tiny envelope style pocket lay at the back of it for notes.

The next day? He scribbled again. This time, he dropped it off before lunch, another drawing of a stick figure getting a medal that said 'best hero ever' it's hair sharp and yellow, it's eyes dark and red, the medal slightly gold as he tried his best to colour in the lines, you knew he found slowing down and concentrating difficult so to see how he'd taken his time was impressive. After lunch he slumped at your desk again, pulling out his book in front of you, tapping yours to open it as well.

"Show me how the fuck you do faces, I can't ever get it right. They always end up looking like shit." His voice demanding, but something sweet laced underneath it. You smiled as you opened your book, the opposite page had drawings of birds laced all over it, his eyes glanced at it then to the window next to your seat.

"You can draw birds TOO?!" His voice louder, more impressed at your artistic skills.

"Yes, I don't just do cartoons yano..." Your cheeks suddenly flushed as the memory of him seeing your detailed profiles of him flooded your brain. You tried to shake it off as you flipped to another open page, but he stopped you, putting his hand on the page with the birds on.

"You're really fucking good..." He whispered, staring down at the detail on the wings, the close up of the eyes as they seemed to twinkle in the sun. He shook his head slightly, remembering that he had his own book under his other hand. "Anyway.... Teach me how to do faces." It almost felt like a 'please' lingered on his tongue, seconds away from slipping out. You playfully rolled your eyes and smiled at him, pulling a fresh set of pencils out from your bag. You handed him one and started to sketch an oval shape slowly, looking over at him to copy you. He pushed the pencil hard into the paper and drew a wobbly circle, huffed angrily at himself and ripped it out, burning it up instantly in his hands. He pressed the pencil to the paper again, slightly softer this time and tried to sketch an oval, eventually he decided it was good enough and stared back at your page, waiting for you to continue. Your smile pulled tighter at the corners of your lips as you sketched out the intersecting lines, his face visibly confused as to why you just drew a line down the middle and a few across the oval.

"What the fucks that for? You just ruined the circle...." His voice low, confused, like a child studying how you'd pronounce words if you didn't say the first letter.

"It's to plot the face, yano, where the eyes go, the nose, the mouth etc." You tried to calmly explain, putting your hand on his pencil to help him draw the lines on his paper. He looked down at your hand on his, the tops of his ears slightly flushed, as he shook his hand and stared deeply at how his pencil moved. You helped him lightly trace the lines, pulling his hand back a bit so the lines were faint, explaining to him how you'd rub these out later, that these were just a rough guide to help you. Eventually you helped him draw a basic face, nothing particularly hard, but just to help him with how big the features should be, how over exaggerated they could be if you were doing a cartoon. Eventually he got the idea, turned a page and tried his best to follow the instructions you'd just show him. He proudly puffed his chest out as he finished his wobbly drawing of All Might.

"Yeah that's right. I fucking smashed it. Im gonna give it to him. He'll fucking love it, probably cry." The smug look on his face was incredibly sweet, seeing how proud he was of his drawing made a knot in your stomach grow, it tightened with every raised eyebrow, every proud exclamation. He lowered the page from his face and flashed you a sweet smile, before pushing himself away from his chair and stomping towards the door, "Thanks nerd!" He explained, kicking the door open and wandering off to show All Might his new picture. You giggled to yourself, turning a new page and sketching a photo of him proudly smiling, holding out the photo in one hand towards the page as if he'd just found out he was actually Van gogh.

After a few more sessions together of you teaching him how to draw different profiles, how eyes looked different when the face was sideways, how to draw a face looking up, down, confused, angry, kaminari waltzed over and put his hand on katsukis shoulder.

"Whatcha love birds drawing n....BAKUGO! That's actually really good!" Smugness took over katsukis face as he pushed kaminaris hand off him,

"No shit. I'm good at everything I do, extra." You smiled tightly, trying to stifle your laughter as he shot you a dark look. "Look, I'll even draw you." He started to scribble a face with a stupid expression on it, spikey blonde hair and tiny eyes, a massive dumb grin and electric zaps dancing around it. He quickly shoved it in your direction, looking for praise as if he needed your approval before declaring it was finished, you nodded over exaggeratedly, your eyes closed and your smile wide. He let out a tiny sigh of relief and shoved it into kaminaris face,

"See. Even made you look like a fucking idiot too." His smile wide, his eye crinkled slightly at his proudness beaming across his face. Kaminari took it, laughed loudly at it and ran to show the other bakusquad, as bakugo looked back down to his paper and continued to draw kirishima as a shark. You looked over at him and smiled, your eyes softening at his excitement. He didn't even have to look up at you as he spoke,

"Stop staring idiot. Whatcha gonna do, draw me looking down now or...?" The laughter from his voice was soft, low, he wasn't trying to openly mock you, instead he kept it as a little personal joke saved for the both of you. You rolled your eyes and tried to hide your growing smirk, taking your pencil to the paper and indeed, drawing him looking down. His eyes darted slightly to your paper as he noticed you drawing the spikes, his own smirk growing more too.

Suddenly mino jumped up from her seat and exclaimed a proposition.

"YOU TWO SHOULD DO A COMPETITION! WHO CAN DO THE FUNNIEST PICTURE OF PRESENT MIC!" The class suddenly erupted in a sudden roar of laughter and agreement. He looked up at you and flashed a devilish grin, he really never could step away from a competition. You narrowed your eyes and let your own devilish smirk cross your face, as determination to crush him enveloped you.

"She has to use her left hand though!" He shouted, clearly a bit intimidated by your skill and lack of his own. You agreed and both flicked to a fresh page, as mino started a count down.

"THREE...."

"I'm betting on y/n." Kaminari whispered to Kirishima.

"TWO...."

"Bakubros gonna crush it!" He whispered back.

"ONE....GO!"

And with that, you both started scribbling. After 30 seconds of katsuki ruffing and puffing, scribbling profusely, sweat almost dripping from his brow, Mina suddenly exclaimed that time was up. You both handed your pictures to her as she waltzed to the front of the class, holding them behind her back.

"FIRST we have this one." She held out the first picture, it was present pic at a desk with headphones on, looking like he was doing a podcast with all might crying with laughter opposite him, as mic was screaming at him, a little voice bubble next to him read

'so you're telling me you HAVENT thought about what it would be like to be a woman?"

The class's laughter roared as katsuki smirked proudly, clearly thinking his was going to win.

"Look at his mouth oh my fucking God! That's brilliant!" Her laughter eventually stopped as she pulled out the other photo, "NEXT we have this one!" Again, holding out the paper in front of her, the picture was of mic up a tree, screaming with big bundles of tears rolling down his face and splitting everywhere, as bugs started to crawl up the tree towards him. A voice bubble reading,

'Aizawa! Please save me my strong, handsome husband!'

Again, the class's laughter erupted, classmates almost falling off their chairs at the expression on mics face, and the fact he and aizawa were apparently husbands. Your smile making your cheeks hurt as you looked over to katsuki, who tried so hard to hide his laughter behind the hand on his mouth. Eventually the class quietened down, and began their discussion on which photo was better. Midoriya started mumbled about how the artist skills of the tree mic was far better, but the podcast mic's quote was funnier, everyone crowded around each other as they tried to decide which was best. You leant back on your chair, holding your hand out to katsuki, offering a handshake,

"May the best artist win." You giggled, he pushed your hand away as he smirked,

"I'm totally gonna win." He crossed his arms as he sat back on his chair, kicking his legs up so they crossed over the top of his desk. Suddenly it was time.

Mina walked up to the front of the classroom, holding both pieces of paper out front of her again, her eyes gleaming as she slightly started to raise your photo up and lower katsukis. You very slightly shook your head that she should pick the other one, the movements of your head so subtly but luckily she noticed, and then flung katsukis up in victory. He jumped from his chair and cheered, overly excited that he had won and bestest you, won another competition like he always did. The class roared in congratulations at him, kirishima patting his back with a strong swift smack, and Ochaco flinging her arms around his shoulders, proud that he had won. You sat there smirking, nodded slightly to Mina for listening to you, as she then ran to katsuki and congratulated him.

After the class has settled down slightly, all staring at both pictures again and laughing, you started to pack your bag up and put your book away. He placed his hand on the table and as you looked up, you saw his smug face looking down at you.

"Congrats on your win, I guess I AM a pretty good teacher after all..." You laughed, pushing his hand off the paper underneath him and putting it into your bag.

"Thank you." He whispered, leaning down slightly, making sure that only you and him heard his appreciation. He wasnt stupid, he saw the back of your head move slightly as Mina held the pictures up. You shook your head, pretending not to know what he was on about.

"No idea what you mean, you won fair and square katsuki. Now, tomorrow I'm gonna get you to draw anatomy..." Your voice trailed off as you looked down at your desk, he twitched his hand slightly so you'd look back up at him.

"Fuck off idiot." His smile beamed down at you as he then nodded his head slightly and turned back around, indulging in the shower of appreciation that still flooded towards him.

[willowdumbdumb]

Heyyy I'm posting this on tumbler ahhh omg wow

------Sweet Valentine----

Valentines' day. A day full of love, many types of love. A great day to show your loved ones they are, well, loved!

Every toon was pretty easy to get gifts. Goob gets cookies. Teagen gets pastries for her tea parties. There was even something for Shrimpo! There was only one toon that Cosmo still couldn't figure out what to do for…

Sprout.

In concept it sounds easy, but the moment it was attempted. It sucked. Every idea Cosmo even thought of, someone was already doing it or it just wasn't great enough.

New baking supplies? Eh he already had so much, plus Sprout got plenty last year.

What about sewing a new scarf? Sprout would surely love that! Well, it was a great idea until he spotted Shelly working away on a scarf also for the strawberry.

A new recipe! Cosmo could just go look in the library for a recipe that they haven't tried yet, Sprout loved making new things. But who gives something for their partner to make for Valentines' Day? That wouldn't work. Not in cosmos mind.

He would just bake something for Sprout like he was doing for everyone else. But Cosmo wanted it to be special.

Sprout’s vagueness with everything he liked didn't help at all.

Flowers? “They're ok”

Chocolates? “Mmm aight.”

Jewelry?!?! “Okay”

“God damn it, why do you have to be so hard!!” Cosmo banged his head on the table while exclaiming, notepad and pencil next to him. Things were scribbled down, then was immediately scribbled over. (Say gex/j)

Every. single. Idea.

He lifted his head and glanced over at Sprout, walking from the elevator towards the kitchen. “Sprout, what are you doing down here?” He questioned while pushing the notepad away.

“Eh, I just thought I should stop by and see you. What’re you doing anyway?” he pushed himself to lean onto the table Cosmo was sitting at. Sitting up in his chair, Cosmo responded, “I’m trying to figure out some valentine ideas...”

Sprout held a smug smile on his face, “For someone special?” The words made his eyes shot open.

“Of course not! Its uh for everyone!”

“Whatever you say” Sprout replied and rubbed the top of the swiss roll’s head, then he got an idea. “How about we work on it together? Pass over some of your ideas!”

Cosmo jumped at his yell, scratching his hand. “Uh...” think think think- “Baking a bunch of pastries” shit. What if sprout agrees to that plan?

“A bunch of pastries for everyone...” Sprout raised his chin and looked over at the oven and counters that were for the common toons. “...How about instead we do a valentines themed picnic lunch? I could ask Dandy if we can use the garden”

Cosmo gripped at his hoodie, a dribble of frosting falling off him. “Yeahhh sounds great.” He gritted his teeth together, Sprout reached over to fix his frosting. “Yeah? I'll go ahead and ask the flower and you jot down food ideas!”

His smile faltered when sprout finally went inside the elevator and left. Cosmo slammed his head against the table. Why in the world did he agree to this.

—-----------------------

Cosmo screwed up. The two spent the day before Valentine's Day baking and cooking for the picnic. The whole day. Not a minute was left for Cosmo to go continue thinking of a gift. So now here he was on Valentine's Day, with no gift for his best friend.

“Think we got everything?” Sprout spread out the large blanket on the soft fake grass. (The bakers will have to thank Dandy again for letting them use the garden.)

“Yeah, everything's set.” His focus was set on other things, the picnic not being it. “I'll tell everyone lunch is ready.” Sprout shuffled up, stretching his arms and walking off. Leaving Cosmo to his thoughts again.

‘What would be a good last-minute gift...’

He looked at one of the containers. A cylinder metal container containing some cookies.

His eyes lit up, Cosmo knows what to do! He might've said it wasn't good enough before but now It was all he had. Cosmo jumped up and ran towards the elevator almost running into the poor strawberry.

“Ey Cos’ what are you in the rush for?” Other toons walked past them, heading to the picnic area.

“I uh. I forgot to bake something!” Sprout raised an eyebrow, eyes questioning the swiss roll’s forgetfulness “I can help you do it—”

“NO!” sprouts eyes widened at his yell. “I mean– no! You focus on having fun, I'll be real quick, ok?” Before Sprout could even resist Cosmo ran off, only just letting his friend watch him.

The strawberry’s eyes softened, and his mouth curved. Even if he was upset about Cosmo ditching them for a short time, the sweet swiss roll had a tight rope on sprouts heart that couldn't make him that angry.

—---------------

The plan was absolutely perfect! Cosmo would make a cupcake quickly and use some frosting to frost it as sprouts face! Ok it sounded weird but the two made a cookie with Astros face, so it had the idea.

‘Just whip up some batter, pop it in the oven..and fix up some frosting.’

He reached over for the ingredients and got to work!

—-----------------

Sprout sat relaxed on the corner of the blanket. Everyone had finished the food, now just chatting along themselves. It mostly contained more gift giving. He let out a sigh, wishing for Cosmo to be there.

He gripped at his own hand. What was so important he had to do now? All the toons had gotten all the pasties they were gifted. What in the word had Cosmo forgotten about...

“Uh hum.” A cough came up behind him, making him turn his head, kicking him out of his thinking and looking up at who was there. “Cosmo! You're back!” Sprout jumped up and wrapped his arms around him.

“I saved some food for you, didn't want you to be hungry,” he said and gestured to where a plate sat next to where Sprout was sitting. Cosmo looked down at the plate, “oohh sprout how nice of you...”

“Now” Sprouts hands gripped the others’ shoulder. “What was so important you had to go?” Oh. Right.

“I'm so sorry again–”

“Ah ah just tell me. I'm dying of curiosity ‘ere!”

Cosmo lowered his gaze and brought out a small brown box with a red ribbon around it. “I uh... I had to get you something...”

Inside the box was a cupcake with Sprout’s very own face on it. “I understand you don’t like it. I made it very last min—”

“I love it! It\s so cute!” Sprout joyfully chirped and set the cupcake down on his plate. “You went to do that?”

Cosmo blinked a few times and looked away, “Well, yeah, I needed to get you something! I didn't want to show up to you empty handed so I made that really fast” A laughter broke his rant, a booming laughter.

The strawberry was laughing.

“Why- why are you laughing?”

“Cos’ you didn't need to get me anything! I'm serious!” Sprout hugged onto Cosmo. “I appreciate the gift, but you didn't need to... “

He tilted his head and pecked Cosmo’s cheek, lips brushing against the stars on them. “You being here is enough for me ‘aight?”

Cosmo’s eyes started to tear up and he tightened his grip around Sprout. “Why are you crying??”" I'm sorry I just- I just love you so much”

“Oh, my goodness Cosmo. I love you too, ok?"

He held back a sniffle and turned to face him. "Really?”

Sprout smiled and held the others hand, "I love you a lot Cosmo. Happy Valentine's Day”

[campingwiththecharmings]

Can't Fight This Feeling

AN: In a bit of a writing slump so I went back and finished this WIP I've had sitting in my google docs for almost a year lol. Hope y'all enjoy~ (based off of a prompt from this post).

(Un-beta’d)

You and Santi have been dancing around your feelings for each other since the day you met.

Rated: T Words: 2,171 Pairing: Santiago “Pope” Garcia x F!Reader (wrote with a F!Reader in mind but since there's no smut, it can probably be read as GN) Warnings: alcohol consumption, unresolved sexual tension, probably way too much banter, LONGING, friends who are secretly in love with each other. AO3

——————

“Oh, come on, Santi, it’s my turn,” you pout, slouching against the wall where the dart board hangs. 

He takes a sip from his beer and chuckles, throwing one of the darts in his hand at the board by your head. You yelp in surprise as the loud thunk resounds in your ear and shoot him a glare.  

“Probably not the best place to lean, cariño,” he smirks, taking another sip. 

Frankie claps him on the shoulder, turning Santiago’s attention to him. “Hey, I’m callin’ it a night, man. I’m beat.” 

“Yeah, I think we will too, for obvious reasons,” Will says, gesturing to his brother who’s half asleep in the booth beside him.  

“But we just started another game, guys, you can’t leave yet,” you argue before stealing a swig from Santiago’s beer and giggling when tries to take the bottle back from you. 

Will shakes his head fondly, shooting Frankie a look you and Santi both miss while he’s chasing you around the pool table. You steal another sip and raise your eyebrows in challenge, giggling when he grumbles something under his breath. 

“What was that, Pope? Didn’t quite catch that,” you call, holding his beer bottle up tauntingly. 

He rolls his eyes. 

“Goodnight, kids. Be good,” Frankie calls, waving at the two of you. 

“Night, Fish!” you and Santi yell at the same time, sending you into a fit of giggles. 

There’s a chance you might be just a little bit tipsy. 

Santi shakes his head, raising an eyebrow as you absently take another pull from his beer.  

“You realize you owe me a beer now, right?” he asks, gesturing to the bottle in your hand. 

“Nope,” you say, popping the ‘p’ before chugging the rest of Santi’s drink. “I won this fair and square.” 

He scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “More like ‘stole.’” 

“Like you stole my turn, you mean?” 

“I didn’t steal your turn.” 

“Yeah you did, I was supposed to go first.” 

“Says who?” he scoffs, leaning against the pool table. 

You pause, your brain sluggishly searching for a response. “The…gentlemen’s code.” 

He snorts, eyebrows raising in amusement. “The gentlemen’s code?” 

You nod, crossing your arms defiantly. “Yeah. You know, chivalry or whatever.” 

“Right,” he says softly, mischief in his eyes as he saunters over to you, invading your personal space. “And who said I was a gentleman?” 

There’s a heat flickering in his eyes as he holds your gaze, a small smirk on his lips. You swallow thickly, unable to look away, the spicy scent of his cologne making you feel lightheaded. 

“You want another round?” a voice says suddenly, dragging you both back to reality. 

You both jolt, jumping back from each other as if you’d been caught doing something you weren’t supposed to be doing. 

“Yeah,” Santiago says, nodding at the waitress. “Thanks.” 

She nods distractedly, scribbling something on her notepad as she heads back to the bar. 

The dull thud and subsequent clatter of a dart bouncing off the wall brings his attention back to you. 

“You gotta be kidding me,” he says, watching unamused as you randomly toss darts at the board.  

“What?” you scoff, clutching the remaining darts to your chest. 

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” 

“What do you mean? I’m playing darts.” 

“No, you’re throwing darts. Playing implies that you have some kind of game plan or general knowledge of the rules.”

 “Oh. Wow, I am so sorry. Please teach me, oh, Master of the Darts.” 

He scoffs. “If I thought you were even remotely serious, I might consider it.” 

“Who says I’m not serious?” 

“‘Master of the Darts?’” 

You shrug. “What? It’s a better nickname than ‘Pope.’” 

The waitress returns with two more beers, setting them on the high top next to Santi. He thanks her, covertly slipping her a few bills as a tip. 

“Hey,” you say, bringing his attention back to you. “How come I don’t have a nickname?”  

He chuckles, twisting off the top of one of the bottles and handing it to you. “What are you talking about?” 

“You and Will and Benny and Frankie all have nicknames. How come I don’t have one?” 

He gazes at you in silence for a moment, opening the other beer and bringing it to his lips. You’re pouting, leaning your elbows on the high top.  

“Half a minute ago, you were going on about how stupid my nickname was.” 

“It is,” you say matter-of-factly. 

Santi laughs, coughing a little as he chokes on his beer. “Then why would you want one?” 

You twist your lips, putting your hand up to cradle your chin. “Better to have a stupid nickname than no nickname at all.” 

He contemplates this for a moment and then nods. “Fair enough. Want me to give you one?” 

You scoff, taking a pull from your bottle. “I don’t want a pity nickname, Garcia.” 

“Better to have a pity nickname than no nickname at all,” he teases, raising his eyebrows. 

You roll your eyes at him, biting back a smile. “Whatever.” 

He chuckles, taking another pull from his bottle. 

The night continues, and so do the drinks, the alcohol making you both klutzier and even more giggly. On your third round of darts, Santi takes it upon him to correct your (apparently) improper form when your dart bounces off of one of the framed photos on the wall and you dissolve into a fit of laughter.  

“C’mere, I wanna show you something,” he slurs, waving you over as he takes another swig from the bottle in his hand. 

You roll your eyes with a huff, but humor him nonetheless, shuffling over and giggling again when you trip over nothing. He waves you over again, this time more impatient and makes a weird flourishing motion with his hands when you stop in front of him. 

“Turn around,” he clarifies when you simply gaze at him in confusion, and you sigh again, doing as he asks. 

You wait, facing the wall with your back to him. After what feels like an eternity, you turn to glare over your shoulder at him. “Any day now, Garcia.” 

He scoffs, moving closer to you, so close he can feel the warmth of you through his clothes. He cups your elbow and moves your arm so you’re holding it at a 90-degree angle. Your hand with the dart is up by your head and his fingers are gentle as they shift yours, changing your hold around the dart. Your skin is smooth and soft and suddenly he wishes he could trace every inch of it. He pushes the thought away, grunting when you fight him a little, chuckling at his frustration; the sound sends a pleasant shiver through him. When he’s satisfied, he releases you, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder. 

He leans in closer with the intention of matching your eye line, but instead ends up with his nose against the side of your neck, the intoxicating smell of you invading his senses. The urge to drag his nose along the shell of your ear is so strong he almost gives in, his breath ghosting over your skin. Instead, he halts, taking a step back, suddenly far more sober than he had been a moment ago. 

He looks up at the sound of his name, your face concerned as you gaze at him over your shoulder. “You okay?” 

He nods, running a hand through his curls. “Yeah, just, uh…got a little dizzy.” 

You turn toward him, now even more concerned. “Do you wanna sit?” 

He shakes his head, smiling slightly as he waves you off. “Nah, I’m good. We should probably call it night though…it’s late.” 

You study him silently for a moment, swaying slightly, before nodding and blinking at him blearily. “Yeah. I’m tired.” 

He smiles, grabbing your arm as you trip over nothing again. You snort, winding your arm around his and laying heavily against his shoulder. “Take me home, Pope.” 

Santiago grunts, stumbling a little at the vice grip you have on his arm, and moves to leave, throwing a few bills onto the table as he walks by. The night air is cool and crisp, sobering him even more, making it hard to ignore how good you feel pressed against his side. You both walk in silence, his brain replaying pieces of his night with you. 

“You’re quiet,” you say, eyeing him suspiciously when he turns to look at you. 

He forces a smile before looking ahead of him again, afraid he’s going to trip over something. “Just tired, like you said.” 

You nod, sighing as you lay your head against his shoulder. “I could fall asleep right now, to be honest.” 

His lips twitch, his actual smile threatening to spread across his lips. “Don’t let me stop you.” 

Your shoe catches on a crack in the sidewalk and you stumble a little, pulling on Santi’s arm and throwing him off balance. He grunts, and you giggle, somehow leaning into him even more than before. When you’ve both found your footing, he shakes his head, a soft smile on his lips. 

“Let’s get you home, you trainwreck.” 

Thankfully, your apartment isn’t far and you both make it safely to the door without further incident.  

“Sure you don’t need help getting up the stairs?” he asks, that crease between his brow deep with concern. 

You shake your head absently, your eyes trailing over the rest of his face—his strong brow, stately nose, chiseled jaw, and plush lips… 

He’s talking but you’re not sure what he’s saying, completely caught up in how gorgeous his face is. Is it weird that you want to touch it? Probably, you decide, yet still you can’t help but imagine whether his scruff would feel scratchy or like velvet against your fingertips. What would his lips feel like if you dragged your thumb across them? Would his chin feel as sharp as it looks if you cradled it in your hands? You want to know, need to know, the desire to touch him overtaking every thought or impulse in your brain until you finally say— 

"I like your stupid face.” 

He pauses, taken a little aback at the admission. After a moment, he snorts, brow furrowing as he chuckles. “Uh…thanks?” 

“It’s just so stupid,” you continue, trying to make sure he really understands. “It’s so…I like it. Can I touch it?” 

Santi chuckles again, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “You…wanna touch my face?” 

You nod, chewing your lip as you step a little closer, devouring him with your eyes. He swallows thickly, your suddenly ravenous gaze causing something warm to pool in his gut. 

“Can I?” you ask again, your voice soft, like a whisper. 

He shouldn’t, shouldn’t entertain this, especially with the state you’re both in right now, but damn if he isn’t curious to see what happens. So he nods. You smile at him almost dreamily and reach up with both hands to cup his cheeks. Santi’s breath catches a little at your touch, and it takes everything in him not to completely melt into it.

His stubble is a tad prickly against your palms, yet somehow still soft as you swipe your thumbs across his cheekbones. It tickles in such a delightful way; you can’t help but smile. Santi’s lips part as you gently caress his face, drawing your gaze to his mouth. His breath puffs against your skin as you drag your thumb over his bottom lip, unconsciously pulling your own between your teeth. It’s so soft, so pillowy. Your finger catches a bit of his stubble on one of your passes over his lip and your breath catches, the combination of soft and sharp sending a shiver through your body. Suddenly, you wonder what it might be like, how it would feel, to have his lips pressed against yours, his five o’clock shadow scratching against your skin. What would it feel like elsewhere? Against your neck, perhaps or…between your thighs? Unable to stop yourself, you lean in and press a soft kiss to his cheek, your eyes fluttering slightly as the hair on his face tickles your lips. 

You swallow thickly as you pull back, your skin warm, heart beating wildly in your chest. Santiago’s eyes are heavy, pupils wide and dark as he stares at you, your hand still on his face. You sober a little then, shaking your head slightly with a breathy chuckle as you release him and step away. 

“Well, uh,” you say, clearing your throat as you awkwardly shove your hands in your pockets. “Goodnight then, I guess.” 

Santi can’t find the strength to do much more than nod, his mouth still slightly open as he watches you walk up the steps that lead to the front door of your building. 

You wave before you head inside, cringing a little at yourself as you turn away, hoping he won’t remember any of this tomorrow.

If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I appreciate every single reblog and/or comment. Thank you. 💖

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[nightfang22]

Kinktober Day 1:"Let me see those eyes."

A/N:I'm so so sorry I'm late to my Kinktober start but here's the first one featuring our boy Simon Kelleher!It might be slow to post but I'm working hard I promise!Thank you all so much for the love and support you guys show me and my work!Enjoy and feel free to send in requests for certain characters!

Warnings:Minors DNI,18+,Smut

Pairing:Simon Kelleher x fem!Autistic!reader

Word Count:1.8k

As someone with autism, I struggled with eye contact a lot. I've been trying to get better at holding it for longer periods of time but nothing seemed to be working. I sigh in frustration as I scribble something down in my notepad. Janae looked over at me and tilted her head to the side, tapping my notepad with the eraser of her pencil a couple times to get my attention. "You okay? You seem frustrated. Like more than usual." I take a deep breath through my nose as I look up at her and try to look at her eyes. I manage it for a few seconds but it doesn't last long. She quickly notices and I can see the sad smile on her face as she drums her pencil on her desk. "Hey, it's okay. You'll get the hang of it at some point and even if you don't, it doesn't matter. You don't need to push yourself too hard, okay?" I chew on the end of my pencil as I stare down at the notepad, slightly rocking back and forth. My eyes flit across the paper as I try to focus on my homework but my mind is wandering elsewhere. I'm completely understimulated and I can't make myself focus on German grammar and pronunciation like this. The only sounds filling my ears are the soft scratching of my fingers against my nails as I pick at them and Janae's gentle tapping of her pencil against paper. I chew at my bottom lip and pick at my nails in rhythm with Janae's tapping until a hand grabbing mine and spreading out my fingers to stop me from picking at my nails grabs my attention. I look up at my eyes melt instantly at the sight of familiar cool brown eyes. I smile softly before averting my gaze. My hand sits in his as he takes a seat across from Janae, next to me. His hand was warm and slightly calloused from all the hours spent learning different instruments on a whim. I smile and relish in the familiar and comfortable sensation. Simon is my person. Hopefully my forever person. He squeezed my hand softly before leaning over to whisper in my ear. "Hey, you seem frustrated. You wanna get out of here? Take a break?" I think he sees the thankful look in my eyes before I even connect them to his while nodding because he grabs my bag for me and looks to Janae. "We're gonna go get some air. We'll see you later." Janae just rolls her eyes and flips the page of her notepad before waving goodbye, not looking up. His hand never leaves mine as I keep my eyes on the ground in front of me while we walk, watching my shoes move forward mostly.

The light of the sunshine makes my eyes sting before Simon pulls his hand away and slips his sunglasses over my eyes. I sigh contentedly at the relief from the harsh light on my eyes. He takes my hand once again and leads me off campus to his car, a cute little bug. Simon adores that car almost more than he adores me. He opens the passenger door for me just as he does every morning before school when he picks me up. I set my bag down in the floorboard and climb in, flipping down the visor to block out the sun. He hands me my headphones when he sits down and I place them over my ears. I can still hear him speak but I can't hear any of the noise outside of traffic or kids laughing. I lean my head back on the headrest as Simon starts the car and pulls out of the parking lot. His arm reaches behind my headrest as he turns to look behind him. After he puts the car in drive he places his hand on my upper thigh which is exposed by my checkered skirt. His hand has a slight reassuring grip on my thigh as he drives. To where, I'm not sure. I've found it more comforting in all the time I've known Simon to not ask too many questions. Eventually we pull into his driveway and he unbuckles my seat belt for me. He comes around the car, opening my door for me and grabbing my bag before lacing my fingers with his and leading me inside. His mom is at the office today and his dad is out golfing like usual. He leads me up the stairs and into his room which is surprisingly clean for a teenage boy. He sets my bag down as I take a seat in his desk chair after discarding my shoes by the door. My knees are pressed together and I'm just staring off into the distance when he comes over, kneeling down in front of me. He tilts my chin up so I can look him in the face. My eyes avert to the side almost immediately when he sighs before smiling softly in my peripherals. "Well, I think I know how to fix this."

I look at him with a confused expression when he picks me up and my legs wrap around his waist. I squeal before clinging to him. I have a fear of my feet leaving the ground and Simon knows this. I bury my face in his neck as he walks over to his bed, setting me down. He crawls over me before taking my wrists and pinning them above my head, lacing his fingers in mine to hold them there. I can only manage to look at his mouth as he speaks. "Now, we're gonna try something okay? You know the safe word. Say it for me, pretty girl." I lick my lips as my eyes very briefly meet his as I speak. "Down." He smiles at me and nods before leaning down to trail kisses up my neck and kissing my jaw. He reaches my ear and whispers, "That's right. Now you're gonna be a good girl for me, yeah?" I can only manage a nod as my breathing becomes shallow as I take in the sensations he's leaving all across my skin. He kisses up my jaw and places kisses all over my cheeks and my nose before finally connecting our lips. His lips are soft and sweet. He always tastes like mint and candy. I moan quietly against his lips as he lets go of my right wrist just to hold both of them in his one hand so he can move the other down my body. He slides his hand across my thigh and up my skirt. He pulls away leaving my lips slightly swollen and kiss bruised. He pulls away and smiles down at me devilishly like he always does in these moments before pulling my skirt up, letting go of my wrists. He moves down and slides his fingers over my clothed heat. I bite my lip and whimper. His warm breath meets the wet spot on my panties sending a shiver down my spine causing me to arch my back slightly. This does not go unnoticed by Simon and I can almost feel the grin on his face as he places a kiss to my clit through my pastel purple thong. He hooks a finger in my underwear on each side before sliding it down my plush thighs and tossing it across the room to be found by their maid sometime later. He places a hand on each of my thighs firmly before spreading my legs and getting comfortable. Simon kisses up my inner thighs before placing a kiss to my clit and dragging his tongue up my entrance, tasting the mess he's caused. I gasp as he sucks my clit harshly into his mouth making my back arch. My hands fly into his soft dark hair and tug as he continues his attack on my sensitive bundle of nerves. The noises falling from my mouth are down right sinful as he eats me out like it's his last meal. My eyes are shut tight as my teeth sink into my bottom lip so harsh I'm almost certain it'll start bleeding. It doesn't take much longer for the knot in my stomach to untie and a whine of ecstasy to leak out of my throat.

He licks up every last drop and comes up for air only a moment later, wiping his face. He strips himself of his jeans and pulls off his shirt, tossing both aside while kicking off his underwear. He crawls over me once again, lining himself up at my entrance before grabbing my hand, placing it on his cheek and kissing my palm. This was almost a ritualistic action. He does it every time before he stretches me out on his cock. Inch by inch, his dick fills me up and a breathless gasping sound escapes me. Simon wasn't small by any means. How does that song go? Right.

'It might not look like he gets bitches but honey that dick was 11 inches.'

My eyes water slightly and Simon kisses my tears away, letting me adjust. After I nod, I expect him to move but he doesn't. "It's okay. You can move now." My eyes are still shut when I feel his hands on my face causing me to open my eyes and look at his throat. "I'll move but you have to keep your eyes up here. Every time you look away I'll stop." My eyes widen. I get it now. I nod but my eyes are still on his throat. He thrusts deep and hard inside me. "What did I just say?" I make eye contact and his face is so kind and sincere that I can't help but keep my eyes on his before he starts moving, his thrusts soft and sweet before picking up pace. I feel my eyes fall shut before he abruptly stops. My eyes snap open and he smirks. "What? You thought I was joking?" He snaps his hips into mine to punctuate his point.

"Let me see those eyes, pretty girl."

My eyes stay attached to his as he thrusts roughly in and out of me. My fingernails sink into his back as I whine and moan, all but screaming out his name like he was some holy deity. His thrusts begin to get sloppy as my cunt clenches around him before butterfly fluttering in orgasm. His eyes never stray from mine and I feel my heart race. This is the longest I've ever held someone's gaze and my cheeks get warm with the realization. I feel his hips stutter as his cheeks flush while he fills me to the brim with his seed, holding his position with his cock fully sheathed inside me to the hilt. His thumb strokes my cheek as he moves to kiss my forehead. He slowly pulls out but not before he quietly whispers an 'I love you so much, princess.'

[this-game-has-themes]

MISERY LOVES COMPANY: chapter 2 (abe/oc)

while abe initially pities his new roommate, her not very scrub-like behavior is threatening to cut into productivity.

chapter cw: violence

[first]|[next]

-

“So do you know what, like, happened? To get you here?”

Howler paused from Abe’s question, and struggled to swallow a mouthful of ration paste. She hastily scribbled her answer with an uncertain hand; her grasp on writing wasn’t much better than an average scrub’s, despite her domestic training.

‘Merjur.’

“Oh, a merger, huh.” Abe clucked his tongue. “So your master couldn’t keep you around? Or was he-”

Howler mimed cocking a gun to her head, and firing it.

“Ohhh, that kind of merger. Um, I’m sorry?”

She rolled her eyes at him often, but he was starting to tell when those instances were from amusement.

Around them, other workers going on their lunch break occasionally stopped to stare at the rare sight of a female. A few risked a whistle or a stray comment, to which Howler had to be demurely pulled away from reacting to with violence. Abe pointed out where the Sligs were posted, and the ominous red security orbs that kept their oppressive eyes on them. It was safer to take the occasional blow to your dignity - take it from him.

Abe wasn’t very well liked amongst his factory floor peers, for what reasons he wasn't terribly sure of. He wasn’t that much softer, ruder or more miserable than the rest of them. If they thought he got special privileges from being a favored victim of their boss, they would be mistaken. But, there was always a pecking order even amongst the lowliest of fodder, and it seemed that Abe had been designated at the bottom upon his birth.

The mild derision of his co-workers was something he shut out during day-to-day tasks, like much of the uncomfortable din of the factory. They had new reasons to hate him now, after word got out that there was a female on the factory floor and that she had shacked up with Him, Of All People. This was less of an insulting accusation than previous claims that Molluck gave him double rations. It seemed to be more a blow to Howler’s pride, than anything.

If she was a rarity, and a relatively pampered one at that, then this life at the bottom of the workforce must have been miserably sobering for her. Abe choosing to help her get acclimated just made it worse; he didn’t need to be verbally chewed out to know she resented her new reliance on him and his experience. He understood; he wouldn’t want to be around himself this much, either.

Their respective duties often separated them, so for a while he only saw Howler when they were going back to their cots at night. Abe tried to keep questions to a minimum, knowing that writing was difficult for her and, well. They only had so much paper. But there was a lot he wanted to know, and there seemed to be a lot she wished she could simply say.

“How did you get that voice box, anyways?”

‘Vykers.’

“Yeah, that makes sense.” Abe looked over Howler’s shoulder as she wrote. After a moment of consideration, she continued.

‘They wantd my voys.’

She pointed to her throat and made that gesture again, briefly, denoting the ‘old rites’ that she had been born into.

‘Studyd me.’

“That’s rough,” was all Abe could say about that. One positive aspect of just being a scrub was that you rarely caught attention from tormentors like the Vykkers. Unless they wanted test subjects.

Howler watched him for a while, her intense stare unreadable as usual. She eventually pointed to him, then pointed to the notepad, pretending to use it. It took a moment for Abe to parse her question.

“How can I read and write? Well, we get some lessons to read machinery instructions… and I get desk duty sometimes. With… with my boss.”

He watched a realization come to her at that. She quickly grabbed his hand, and pointed intently at her scar. Abe paled at what she was implying.

“I don’t think I can ask him about that, Howler. I’m sorry.”

He withered under her glare. Her next words were pressed hard into the paper.

‘Cant or wont?’

Abe held his breath. There were a lot of things he could say he was afraid of Molluck doing to him, and he didn’t want to speak any of them to existence. “I… y-you know what it’s like, don’t you? To be their - to be their fav-favorite?”

That brought Howler to pause, at least. The anger in her expression faded into something more complicated. With a silent sigh, she wrote one more word before putting down the notepad. ‘Sorry.’

Their conversation was apparently over when she slumped back into the fetal position in her cot, her back turned to him, as it often was with no other way to give themselves privacy.

-

Abe went over what she asked of him in his head for the rest of the next day. He could, perhaps, find an opportunity to catch Molluck in a good mood, but that wasn’t likely while sales were down. He never actually asked a favor of his boss before, despite being in a position where he probably could have. If he ever did, it would probably be to just ask him to ‘stop’. Not that Molluck would acquiesce to that.

As his janitorial duties led to him visiting the bar to take the trash out, he found himself seeing Howler between shifts. The bar wasn’t usually a place where a scrub could just waltz right in for a brew, but that rule wasn’t very heavily enforced by the drunken Sligs that lounged there. A scrub also had the benefit of being invisible, inconsequential background fodder, and that alone was an advantage.

Howler, however, did not meld into the background. As a domestic slave - a corrective, no less - she stood out. Even amongst the other correctives that made up the new blood, as an intact female. People noticed that. Alf noticed that.

The bartender nearly dropped his glass at the sight of her. “Holy shit. The rumors are true.”

Howler faced him with a silent, terse stare. Fearing what she could do that would cause a scene, Abe opted to pause his trash collecting duties and check in on her.

Alf readjusted his fez like it was going to do him any favors. He leaned over the counter to try and get a better look at her figure. “So what is a uh, babe like you doing in a place like this? Other than, uh, the whole slave trade thing.”

Howler rolled her eyes, and pointed to one of the bottles behind him.

Alf glanced at it incredulously before shaking his head. “Nahh, sorry toots, that stuff’s not for scrubs. I can getcha a brew if you-”

Howler interrupted him with a sharp slap on the surface of the counter. It was a sudden, jarring sound that made a few of the present Mudokons - the grizzled, motley corrective transfers - suddenly bolt upright at attention. Wordlessly, Howler pointed at the bottle again.

The bartender crossed his arms, unyielding. “Ohh no, you’re not going to play tough guy with me, sister. I already fend off drunkard Sligs on the daily, you know. Just run along, and I won’t call in security.”

Abe was getting in reach of Howler to pull her away, at this point. Instead of lunging at the service mud like he expected her to, the mute woman considered the man before her for a moment, then unhooked one of the suspenders on her work overalls. She revealed part of her chest - still covered by her off-white undershirt, but still probably more semblance of a womanly body than most scrubs would ever see in their lifetime. She grabbed a topmost breast and gave Alf an expectant look.

Alf gawked at the sight, however meager it was. His hands shook as he sprung into action. “Right! Right - right away, miss. Uh - do you, uh, want a glass or like, the whole bottle?”

Howler pointed at a glass, thankfully. Alf could barely keep his eyes on the task of pouring, glancing back feverishly at her for the several tense seconds it took, as though she would vanish at a moment’s notice. His hand was trembling when he offered it to her, and she stilled him by gently taking him by the wrist.

The bartender took in a sharp gasp of breath when the woman guided his open palm to her chest. Abe, left on the sidelines, felt the heat rise in his face from the brazenness of the act. It was only a couple of seconds, and it was over the clothes, but it was still probably a more egregious misdemeanor than mere violence.

After granting him a momentary fondle, Howler removed Alf from her person. The service scrub reeled back to lean against the rack of bottles, seemingly dumbstruck by the contact. Abe watched Howler as she finally noticed his presence, flashed him a smug little smile, and took a sip.

When she offered him the glass, the scrub took a wary step back despite himself. “No thanks, I’m, ah, still on shift.”

Howler answered his hesitance with a shrug, and nothing more.

It was getting exhausting, feeling like he needed to keep an eye on her on top of everything else that had become his responsibilities in the factory. Not that she was his responsibility. Abe simply had no idea what it must have been like to have been captured into servitude, instead of born for it. Down to a genetic scale, he was more suited to this life than she was, and that made him… well. ‘Pity’ was a strong word that he imagined she would have some choice things to say about, if she could say them. Or spell them.

Howler took a quiet seat in the corner, making sure her back was to nobody. While he tried to mind his own business, Abe still glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. He watched as another mud approached her table.

This one’s back was straight, rather than bent by a lifetime of toil; he was a corrective, visibly larger and stronger looking than the factory stock around him. A ragged, whip-scarred Mudokon that had wild, bloodshot eyes trained on his target. Howler bristled as he closed in on her, but made no attempt to move.

“Well, well, well. The princess is finally in the cage with the rest of us.” The corrective sat at the seat across from her. The RuptureFarms uniform fit his frame poorly, and it only served to make him more menacing. “Looks like Vegh didn’t give you special treatment after all. I bet you really thought he would, didn’t you?”

Howler had backed away in her seat far enough for the back of her head to touch the wall behind her, but in her position she was essentially pinned. She kept up her usual aloof expression, and faced the Mudokon’s sneer with a cold eye as she slowly shook her head.

“Ohhh, it is great to see you here,” the corrective chuckled darkly, “I’ve waited so long for you to be on the other side of the chain-link fence. Finally, you’re gonna stop beating me long enough for me to ask: why? Why, Howler?”

The Mudokon knew full well she couldn’t talk back, though he wouldn’t have let her speak regardless before continuing, “Was it worth it? Was it all fucking worth it in the end, princess? All that boot licking and clasper gobbling, just to get your place at the foot of his bed? Just to get the privilege of holding the whip?”

Howler silently huffed, and pulled out her notepad. Abe, at his distance, couldn’t see what she wrote; all he could gather was that reading her reply made the larger mud seethe. The Mudokon standing abruptly made his chair clatter noisily on the metal floor, alerting everyone nearby. He pinned her against the wall when she tried to bolt in vain. One of the more sober Sligs looked over to see a worker out of line, and he reacted accordingly.

It only would have taken one shot, but Sligs never really stopped there. Workers and unprepared Sligs alike ducked instinctively to the floor. From there, Abe could see every other mud ducking alongside him, except for Howler.

When the gunfire stopped and the smoke cleared, the attacking corrective was left a limp, perforated corpse, draped unnaturally over the chair she sat in. Blood dripped from him to add to the splattered mess the rifle rounds painted in the corner. Abe resigned himself to the additional work piling up before him.

As everyone shakily tried to go back to what they were doing, a Slig made a couple of workers haul the corrective’s corpse out of the bar by his feet. The long, red trail of a bloodstain it made would also become overtime for the beleaguered janitor. He wasn’t thinking about that, though; what concerned him was that Howler had conveniently vanished without a trace, and left the corrective Mudokon to take the brunt of the punishment.

Alf wasn’t at the bar either, come to think of it. But during violent ‘bar fights’ like these, he tended to dip into the backroom; Abe’s suspicions were confirmed when he saw the door ajar.

He risked a peek through the narrow gap. From behind the door, he heard a familiar voice say, “you alright there, sister?”

A visibly shaken Howler flinched away from the taller mud when he made a move to get closer. Alf took a cautionary step back, hands held up to drive home no ill intent. “Hey, hey, it’s cool. Jus’ wanted to make sure you didn’t get hit.”

Howler squinted at him suspiciously. Her arms were folded defensively over her chest. At that point, Abe decided to step in; it felt like the right time, and the woman seemed, for once, to be happy to see him. Her hands trembled as she tried to write on her notepad.

Abe interrupted her. “What was all that about?”

The tattooed woman stopped, visibly pale under the dim fluorescent light. She reluctantly wrote down an answer.

…Then she stopped, discarded the thought, and turned the page to write something else she was more confident in showing him.

‘Dont wory abowt it’

“O-okay,” Abe said, uncertain. “I gotta… clean up the mess you made, I guess, so…”

Howler gave him the usual dismissive flick of her hand, directed at both of the men in the room. She shoulder-checked him yet again as she squeezed through the doorway.

Alf took off his fez to rub his feather-bare head, and watched her leave with a certain light in his eyes. “Wow, she’s a real ‘strong n’ silent’ type, isn’t she?”

Abe just sighed.

By now, the rest of the bar had more or less settled down. The gunner that executed the Mudokon ordered another round for him and his Slig peers. People stepped carelessly on the bloodstains, inured to gore and violence, and possibly just trying to give Abe more work to do on purpose. Blood, at least, was something he was accustomed to dealing with; and though he didn’t want to admit it, it was a nice change of pace to clean up the gore of a Mudokon that gave him no ill at ease. This wasn’t a fellow worker he grew up around, this was a complete stranger. A wild-caught bush-mud, different from him on a genetic level.

The body was mercifully intact when it was dragged away, so there were only minimal flesh chunks to scrape up after it. Amongst those bits and pieces, Abe noticed a page out of Howler’s notepad. It was sticky and soaked red with blood, but it was still barely legible.

It said, ‘I wantd to LIVE.”

[one-little-nerd-stayed-home]

#can you imagine the timeline where loathing did get the fix when he went to see mark#and then he gives that fact before attempting to fucking take out the rest of the crew???#DONT LEAVE THIS IN THE TAGS OP#SOMEONE WRITE THIS FANFIC <- tags from this post

Well @clownjacket You're in luck because I'm procrastinating HARD this week and that means apparently all I needed was your prompting to crank out over 2000 words in 24 hours :)

You can read on AO3 here: Lazer Focus Or here under the cut :)

As Dramatic exits from the Police Station go, Hunch Curio has made some pretty impressive ones. But this one has to be pretty far up the list he thinks. Especially with Dan Fucks and Justin trailing behind him.

It looses points for the fact that no one is yelling for them to stop or 'get back here' yet though.

Hunch grins as he spots a police car swerving dangerously as it pulls up to the curb. Bonus points for the get-away car.

“That looks like Conrad's driving!” Hunch says, exuberant. “Oh good. Little rapscallion’s making himself useful at least.” Dan pants, as Hunch jogs up to the slightly smoking police car.

“Hey boys!” Conrad grins, resting one arm out the window. “Hi Conrad!” Justin puts both front paws on the door to lick the kid’s face. “I’m so glad to see you… Dan fucking killed the chief of police!”

“He What?!” Anastasia yelps head appearing from the backseat. Dan clears his throat. “Ah, yes. Well “ “Old news.” Hunch interjects. “Norel Ojical was the one that bought the gun they used to blow up the keyhole in Cerebell Pacific!” “Why would Norel want to destroy a keyhole?” Imelda asks, leaning down to look out the window as well.

“Well I don’t know yet-“ Hunch says “But I’m working on some theories.” “Yes!” Dan seconds. “And didn’t you say you had a lead on where he bought the weapon?” Hunch snaps his fingers. “Right! Yeah - Thalmus & Sons, and I never been there but I gotta know what they have in stock.”

A door bangs open behind them. “Stop! Murder! We’re the Police!” “Time to go!” Imelda shouts. Conrad hesitates for a half second before he nods resolutely. “Lets roll!” Anastasia throws the back door open and Dan and Hunch scramble in as Justin simply jumps through the driver’s window, scrambling into Imelda’s lap.

The engine roars and Conrad swings the car back onto the road.

"Wait Dan you said you killed the chief of police?” Anastasia demands. She’s produced a notepad from somewhere in her coat and is tapping her pen against the spine. “Not on purpose.” Dan says. “I simply went to escape my handcuffs and when they sprang open BAM! He just keeled over. Dead at the Desk!" “Hmm.” Anastasia scribbles something down in her notebook. “And you’re sure it was you?” “Oh yeah. I saw it.” Justin says leaning into the back seat. “It was real dramatic. I wasn’t sure what to think at first, but y’know all the cops in this city are kind of huge assholes anyway."

“So I can't help but notice we're missing someone." Hunch interrupts. “Has anyone seen The Fix lately? “ “Yes where did our large companion make it to?” Dan seconds, glancing around the car. “You’d think it’d be a lot harder to lose someone of his size in this city.”

There's a moment of uncomfortable silence as they realize none of them have an answer.

“It might not be anything too serious. Did we even agree on a meeting place before splitting up?” Hunch asks. “Thats true!” Dan agrees. “Maybe he just got held up at the D.A.’s office and wasn’t sure where we went!” “Maybe-“ Conrad says doubtfully. The silence stretches again.

“Maybe I should have gone with him…” Conrad says “Maybe Mr Bition didn’t believe him.”

“Absolutely not.” Imelda says

“Hmph yes.” Dan says. “If The Fix has found trouble, a little rapscallion like yourself would have no chance!”

“Well maybe but-“

“I mean if they were able to stop The Fix what would we have done?” Justin asks forlornly.

“Do you think the D.A. did something?” Anastasia asks, after a moment. “Well he was one of the first ones to put a hit out on Conrad here.” Hunch agrees.

Anastasia twitches her pen between her fingers. “What if he found something out to do with that key we saw at the Occulus? The one that might have had something to do with Mr Ojical’s death?”

“That key looked like bad news.” Imelda agrees. As Conrad swerves around a chunk of debris, throwing Dan into Hunch and Anastasia in the back seat.

"Well maybe we should find The Fix first" Imelda suggests.

"I see no reason to go haring off when we don't know where to start looking." Dan grouses. Anastasia taps her pen on the back window suddenly.

"We're not too far from the DA's office, we could drive by and see if we spot anything."

"Yes lets!" Imelda agrees, craning her neck to look off the overpass.

"Well I mean I would like to know-" Hunch is cut off by Dan’s hand in his face again as Conrad swerves into the offramp towards the DA's office.

“I’m sure he’s fine. I can’t think of many things that would be able to stop The Fix.“ Justin says uncertainly. Conrad’s hands tighten on the wheel as the rest of the adults look at each other uncomfortably.

“Look! There!” Anastasia shouts suddenly. Conrad slams on the brakes and they all peer out of the windows at The Fix, looming out of an alley a few metres ahead of them.

Conrad throws his door open darting forward. “Mister the Fix!” Conrad exclaims.

“Conrad.” The Fix’s voice stops Conrad cold. It’s flat, sharp around the edges.

“Hey Fix! Bout time you showed up! Whats- with the look?” Hunch steps up beside Conrad.

“You know.” The Fix says slowly. “We’re going to an awful lot of trouble for this kid and I’m not sure why.” At Conrad’s knee, Justin starts to growl, hackles rising as the big man takes another step forward, there’s something not quite right about his eyes. Conrad realizes.

“Well what should we do?” Anastasia demands, hand coming down on Conrad’s shoulder, and pulling him back, behind her. “Its not like anyone else in this city is trying to save the big guy’s life!”

“Did you know?” The Fix says, taking another deliberate step forward, “That approximately 200 million years,”Hunch braces his feet and Anastasia reaches for a non-existent weapon. “The Asian and American Continents will collide, and form a super continent.” Conrad trips over his feet and the Fix’s gaze swivels to him - irises glowing pure-scalding white. “So I’m not sure any of this matters.”

There’s a buzzing in the back of Conrad’s skull. The key. This has to be the Key, the Psychometer. This is what it does.

The Fix hits Hunch hard enough to lift the slight detective off his feet. Anastasia throws herself aside, narrowly avoiding the back-swing. Conrad scrambles to his feet and bolts, colliding with Dan as the man comes around the car.

“Conrad you little shit! What’s taking so-“ Fucks cuts himself off as he takes in the scene. “What the Devil?!”

The Fix is closing the distance fast and Conrad ducks around Dan, scrambling past a pile of debris on the street. “Now hold on Fix! What do you think you're doing?” Dan demands as the Fix reaches him.

“Dan Fucks" There's contempt in The Fix's tone. "Another Distraction.” Dan yelps as the Fix’s fist comes down on him.

“Hey Fix!” Imelda shouts throwing a rock of rubble at The Fix from behind. He stagger steps whirling on her. “Now I don’t know much but I don’t think you‘re the kind of man to hunt a child.” Imelda says backing away slowly. “Why I’d say quite the opposite actually, so why don’t you tell me what the hell you think you’re doing.” Conrad hesitates, he’s only a few feet from the car. Hunch and Anastasia are still picking themselves up off the asphalt.

“I’m doing - My Job.” The Fix says and Imelda narrowly avoids his fist. “Conrad run” Anastasia shouts from where she’s scrambling to her feet. Conrad shudders he wants to run. Hunch is dragging himself to his feet cradling an arm that looks broken. He can’t run. Its not right. ‘Get out of here you little shit.’ Dan hisses, staggering to his feet. Conrad doesn’t move. Its not right to leave his friends behind. He scans the street and spots a building, leaning dangerously, probably damaged when the freeway collapsed.

“Hey! Mr The Fix!!” Conrad shouts. White eyes swivel to him and the buzzing in the back of Conrad’s skull prickles like TV static as the pure lazer focus is turned on him. “I know the Psychometer got to you, Mr The Fix. And I know that's not your fault, but I can’t let you hurt my friends.” The Fix doesn’t respond, pacing towards Conrad, completely ignoring the shouts of the others behind him. Conrad makes himself move slowly as he backs towards the broken building.

“I know.” Conrad says, trying not to let his voice shake. “I know the Psychometer is making you think this is the only option, but it’s wrong! This matters, what we do matters, Norel died trying to defend the Big Guy! The packet could save hundreds of people!” Conrad can see Imelda, Hunch, Dan and Anastasia scrambling to their feet behind the Fix.

“Nothing we do matters.” The Fix asserts fists balling as he steps into the alley. “This is all a distraction.” Conrad realizes with a sinking feeling that he’s not going to make it under the overhang in time. “You’re a distraction.” The Fix says. And strikes faster than thought.

Conrad throws himself out of the way.

He lands on his hands and knees.

Dimly he can hear Hunch shouting and Imelda, and his hand is closing over something metal.

The Fix is crouching, staring at him with cold white eyes. Instinctively, Conrad slashes at the Fix's face with the metal in his hand.

“We’ve wasted too much time on you.” The Fix snaps. There's blood running down his face and Conrad glances down at the skate blade in his hand, and his momentary distraction is when The Fix's hand closes around him.

"No More distractions." The Fix says a hint of something like desperation creeping into his tone even though his eyes are still uncanny. Conrad glances down, eyes drawn to a white slot in the Fix's chest.

“Elias needs to Focus-“ Conrad drives the skate blade into The Fix’s chest.

There is a moment where Conrad thinks his ribs might crack as the crackling static rings in his ears, louder, Louder, and then - Fix’s grip goes slack, Conrad staggers back, something like a sob building in the back of his throat as the metal warms in his hand. “Conrad!” Anastasia shouts, she darts past where the Fix has slumped against the wall of the building, “Conrad are you ok?” Hunch asks, peering at him, positioned squarely between Conrad and The Fix’s inert form.

Over Anastasia’s shoulder Conrad can see Imelda and Dan hot on their heels. Conrad glances down at the skate blade, bracing himself for blood. Instead he finds a small silver key resting in his palm.

“Oh, Conrad are you ok?” Justin demands, nosing into Conrad’s chest. Conrad nods slowly, unable to tear his gaze from the key.

“Yeah, yeah I’m ok, I have a key.” “A Key?” Dan exclaims clapping a damp hand on Conrad’s shoulder and leaning in. “You little rapscallion! Where have you been hiding a key?”

“I don’t know.” Conrad says honestly. “It just appeared when I tried to stop The Fix.”

“Did stop the Fix you mean - oh SHIT.” Hunch yelps as The Fix moves, sitting up. Hunch jumps back and the others close ranks around Conrad, but The Fix’s eyes are back to normal, aside from the slight sheen of confusion.

“Mister The Fix?” Conrad worms his way between Anastasia and Imelda to wave a little, The Fix’s gaze settles on him and realization flashes over him.

“Fuck” The Fix says, and honestly, Conrad agrees with the sentiment. “Conrad are you ok? I didn’t - I didn’t hurt you?”

“Yeah. I’m ok.” Conrad steps out infront of the others, “And I have a key now!” he holds out his palm. The Fix stares at the tiny key, expression caught somewhere between guilt and relief. 

"You sure do kid-"

"Hey how'd the Psycometer get you?" Hunch demands, cutting in excitedly and The Fix surges to his feet. “Shit! Listen I - I'm real sorry but we don't have time, Madame Loathing. Self Loathing - She has the Psychometer. She’s looking for a new keyhole.”

“Madame Loathing has the Psychometer?” Conrad asks

“You mean she’s corrupted? Like you were?” The Fix shakes his head grimly.

“No, no she’s using it. She got Mr Bition, she got me -“

“Well if Loathing is in charge the revolution is going to be a long time coming.” Dan says.

“She must not know where all the keyholes are.” Hunch says “If she hasn’t done it yet.”

“But the repairs must be almost done at Cerebell Pacific.” Imelda points out.

“And there’s Oblongata station.” Anastasia says.

"Yeah." The Fix moves to rub the back of his neck. "I think I may have mentioned Oblongata station. But she was waiting for something before venturing out-”

Any other information is drowned out by the low roar of an engine as headlights flash over the six of them. A shiny black car pulls into the alley, blocking off their escape. The street-lamps behind the car spark with excess energy as the the door opens.

“Well well well. Imagine meeting you folks here.” Don Avaricci grins, cigar clamped between his teeth as he reaches for his breast pocket.

“Wuh Oh.” Hunch says.

[ashturnedtomist]

Keep it Covert: Ch. 5

Forget Shaw Security—Sweetheart Security!

Keep it Covert Masterlist

Previous | Beginning | Next

Summary: in which, Sweetheart doesn’t know how to cope

Based off this post

Read it on Ao3

Milo woke to an empty bed.

This wasn’t entirely shocking to him, especially since Sweetheart had a tendency to be a night owl, but what disturbed him were the cold sheets.

They were never usually out of bed for long.

Letting out a loud sigh, he groaned and rolled out of bed.

“Sweetheart? You out here?” He called, his voice scratchy as he entered the living room.

His eyes widened as he took in the space around him.

There was his Sweetheart, bent over piles of documents and reports on the coffee table, scribbling notes on a yellow notepad. The floor was littered with paper balls and photographs. Milo rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

“Sweetheart?” He repeated. They looked up, seemingly snapped out of whatever trance they were in. “Milo? What are you doing up? It’s almost…” They glanced at the clock on the wall. “…3 am. Apparently.”

It seemed they had no idea how long they’d been awake.

Milo shook his head. “I could be askin’ you the same thing. What are you doing out here, baby?”

They looked down at the mess of paper under their hands. “I um, couldn’t sleep. So I decided to be productive instead.”

Milo walked over, still struggling to wake up enough to comprehend what he was looking at. “What…”

The notes that his mate had written down were barely coherent at best. Spread out on the table seemed to be leftover documents from D.U.M.P and articles. The photographs were a bunch of people that he didn’t recognize and random billboards and posters.

Milo continued to scan the pile until his eyes caught on an article. “Closeknit? Sweetheart, what are you doing out here?”

Sweetheart’s eyes widened. They sighed. “I…I’ve been trying to figure out what caused the document leak at D.U.M.P.”

Milo blinked. “What? And-and you think Closeknit had something to do with it?”

Sweetheart snatched up the document that Milo was looking at. “Look, just-just listen.”

“Every since the Department collapsed, Closeknit has been pushing more and more of their ads and propaganda into empowered spaces. I’ve even heard from David’s mate that it’s in some unempowered spaces.”

They gesture to a photograph on the table showing a billboard with Closeknit plastered on the front.

“Closeknit is exactly the kind of group that would benefit from this sort of thing. Just like after the Inversion, they’re blaming the Department for everything and reaping the benefits!”

Milo shook his head. “What-”

“Not to mention the fact that they’d have general unempowered support! While most of them are wary of empowered people, they tolerate most of us, except for those of us that feed. And who does Closeknit target? Demons!”

Milo held out his hand. “Sweetheart, I think-”

“The general public is terrified of Demons and Daemons, with an ‘a’, and that’s because of the religious depictions of them! So who better to back up than the very group that seeks to get rid of them?”

“Sweetheart!”

They pause in their ramble to look at their boyfriend. “Yes?”

Milo sighs. “It’s late. Why don’t you come to bed?”

Sweetheart shakes their head. “No, no. I’m onto something out here-”

“Sweetheart, this looks like the makings of a conspiracy theorist! Now, you have good points but-”

“But, this is important! If I can just figure out what happened-”

“It’s 3 am! The Department will still be gone in the morning.”

With that, Sweetheart froze. They visibly wilted.

“I know that.” They say quietly. “I know.”

Milo reaches for his mate. “What’s the matter, huh? Why are you out here?” He asks softly.

They sigh and lean their head on his shoulder. “I…I worked so hard for my position in the Department. I practically worked myself to the bone every day. And now…”

They let out a bitter laugh, tears stinging their eyes. They gesture to the scattered paper covering their living room. “This is all I have to show for it! Everything I worked for my whole life, gone in an instant.”

Sweetheart pulls away a little, blinking back tears. “If-if I’m not even going to have a job for the time being, I might as well do something productive. If I can figure out what happened…” They wrap their arms around themself. “Maybe we can…we can figure out a way to bring some sense of normalcy back. Or at least have closure.”

Milo wraps his mate up in his arms. “I understand that this is hard for you, Sweetheart. The Department was practically your life! But running yourself ragged isn’t going to bring it back.”

“It’s all I know how to do.” They whisper against his shoulder.

“It’s time to unlearn.” He says while rubbing their back.

Milo stays silent, rocking his mate back and forth as they crumble in his arms, his shoulder becoming damp with their tears.

——

The next morning, Milo let them both sleep in. He texted David the night before to let him know he’d be going into work late.

Sunlight peeled through the blinds. Sweetheart groaned and pulled the covers over their head. “It’s too early.”

Milo chuckled, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “It’s 11 am, Sweetheart. It’s almost noon.”

“What?” Sweetheart sat up, fully alert. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

He shrugged. “We were up late. I figured a late morning couldn’t hurt.”

They bit their lip. “That’s really sweet of you, Milo. You didn’t have to do that.” They say softly.

Milo presses a kiss to his mate’s forehead. “You needed it, baby.”

They laid in bed for another hour before Milo insisted that he get up to make them lunch and get ready for work.

While he was brushing his teeth, his phone went off.

Angel

hey!

Milo raised an eyebrow but typed back a response.

Milo !!!

Hi?

Angel

so i know this is random, but i heard your mate is struggling bc of everything with the department D:

sooo i reached out to a few people and it turns out that my brother’s partner recently got a job at this new club that is 100000000% empowered friendly and they’re in need of a security guard/bouncer whatever you wanna call it

and i just thought that sweetheart might wanna take a look at it? maybe?

Milo’s eyes widened.

Milo !!!

Yes!

That’s sounds great.

Send me the info?

Angel

https://www.unespritemployment.org

Milo smiled.

“Hey, Sweetheart? What do you think of running your own security gig?”

[smaptain-smerica]

Female Reader x Rooster

Time: Post-Top gun: Maverick

Y/n Blackwood - L/n, daughter of Charlotte "Charlie" Blackwood. Y/n took a strong interest in planes from a young age. Knowing her father was an esteemed pilot drew her even further into the navy. Quickly, she became one of the best solo pilots and graduating at the top of her class at Top Gun.

Her next mission? Return to Top Gun, Face certain death, romantic interests, and finally, her thought-to-be-dead, father.

This book contains strong language and sexual content that may be sensitive readers under the age of 18

This story was originally posted on Wattpad, follow me on there for faster updates. I have published a non-binary version of this story published there for those who do not identify as female or use she/her pronouns. It will follow the exact same story line. Link to Wattpad Account Link to the Non-Binary version

Master list

Dinner and a Show

Hangman and I loaded up into the tandem plane for todays exercises. In order to take a test flight in the tandem plane yesterday, Hangman told Admiral Cyclone I wanted to sit in the back so I could take better notes and not have to focus on flying. Which apparently was a good enough reason.

So there I sat, notepad in hand and attempting to scribble down notes with hangman's flying. It was a good thing he didn't have a back seater, I couldn't take more than the hour I was trapped back there.

"Hangman it's a good thing you are a single flyer." I mentioned to him once we landed back at base.

"Why?" He asked, seeming to be fake upset by my comment.

"Look at my paper." I showed him my notebook that consisted of hardly legible words and a few dark lines across the paper where he took a hard turn.

Hangman took the paper in his hands, a slow smile spreading on his face that slowly turned into a laugh. "That's hilarious."

I rolled my eyes as we made our way to the screening room where the pilots were gathered to wait for their evaluations from me. Hangman and I both dramatically entered the room. The pilots got quiet, taking their seats and ready to give their attention to me. I took the stand at the front of the room, hangman sitting in one of the rolling computer chairs just off to the side of me.

"Great job today everybody, I have a few things I noticed about todays flyers. First up is starfire." I looked up from my notepad at the red haired green eyed woman that resembled the DC character fairly accurately.

"There were a couple of times when you hesitated on your callouts which slowed down you and your wingman. Trust yourself more. Your first answer is highly likely to be correct." She smiled at me with a nod, showing she received the message.

I looked at who was next in my notes. "Denali and haywire. You would think that you two had never flown together before. You both need to get your head out of your asses and get your egos checked."

I heard one of the boys in the front scoff and look at his friends, who in turn all chuckled. I looked at him, raising my eyebrow in question. "Something funny, lieutenant?"

This man was tall and muscular, dark brown hair and dark brown eyes with an olive skin tone. He has thin lips and high cheekbones with a pronounced jawline. He smirked at me, a mischievous and daring smirk. "Just wondering why someone who hasn't even flown her plane with us is giving us advice. I mean come on, you crashed your plane a couple of months ago it's a wonder why they made you an instructor."

This was a common occurrence in younger male pilots with a god complex. I looked over at hangman with a look of astonishment on my face. Anger was slowly bubbling up in my veins. Hangman seemed to noticed because he gestured towards the pilot with his hands. "Lay into him." He whispered.

I looked back over at the pilot. I saw the name 'Ghost' on his tag. "Ghost, if it were say, Hangman up here saying these things to you, would you even blink twice?"

"Well no," Ghost replied, "Hangman is who we've been flying against."

I walked over to the desk he was sitting at and leaned over it, coming closer to the young pilots face as I braced my arms on the table. "So why am I teaching this Top Gun class and not him?"

Ghost was silent, searching his brain for answers. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out.

"Because I'm better." I continued, inching closer to the pilots face. "I'm more efficient, more accurate, I have more confirmed air combat kills. One of which, I made with that plane I crashed."

Ghost raised his eyebrows in surprise and looked at the other two pilots around him. I pushed off the desk, now standing at the front of the room and addressing the rest of the pilots indirectly.

"I ran out of flares, guns and missiles and used my plane to eliminate the enemy to save myself and my wingman. I got 2nd degree burns on my back after ejection." The room went silent, you could hear a pin drop in there as everyone held their breath. I squared off my shoulders and tucked my hands behind my back. I stared directly into the deep brown eyes of the man challenging me.

"So please, second guess me and my capabilities again because I would love to have your mediocre ass thrown out of this program."

~~~

I frantically checked the time on my phone while I was finishing putting on my makeup. It was 5:57 and the dinner started at 6:30, the speech at 7. I hummed one of my favorite songs to help keep myself steady while I finished up my eyeliner. There was a knock at the door which I could only assume was Hangman.

"Come in!" I stepped out into the hallway and yelled to the front door before popping back into the bathroom. I heard the front door creak open gently.

"I'm almost ready I promise!" I called. I heard hangman laugh as his heavy footsteps proceeded by the door and into the living room.

"Take your time." He reassured me. Once I was finished with my mascara I jumped across the hallway into the bedroom where a red dress and a pair of shoes I had bought today laid. I slipped them on and looked myself in the mirror.

Red was a good color, I've never seen a woman in a red dress and not liked it. It was classy, sexy, and elegant all wrapped into one. And of course, some black heels to pull the outfit together. I had to admit, it was weird to see myself look like a woman. And not a sweaty mess in a brown scratchy suit.

I walked briskly out of the bedroom and down the hallway to the table where Bradley kept a bowl for keys. I fished out the keys to my mustang and turned to Hangman with a smile. When I looked at him his mouth was slightly agar, eyebrows raised. He looked like a deer in headlights.

"You look really nice." I complimented him on the suit he was wearing. For a last minute rental it fit him very nicely.

"You look... wow. You look amazing." Hangman finally stuttered out. I felt a blush rise to my face, hopeful that he couldn't see it because I was already wearing makeup.

"Thank you." I responded.

Hangman and I made our way out to the car where he insisted on driving despite my persistent protests. I was always nervous about other people driving my car. That car is more important to me than most people. We arrived only one minute before it hit 6:30.

Hangman opened the door for me and offered his arm to me. We walked into the venue with our arms linked. The room was beautiful. Deep, dark woods with large windows that faced the ocean on the south side. The room was filled with old men and their wives and younger adults that were around our age. I tried to stand on my toes to search for Maverick before I finally found him tucked away in the corner.

I let go of hangman's arm and started to make my way through the crowd. He lunged for my hand and grabbed it so he could trail behind me through the crowds. We finally reached Maverick, a look of relief on his face upon seeing us.

"Y/n, thank goodness." He breathed out and embraced me. "Wow you look beautiful." Maverick commented, taking a step back to look at me.

"Thank you."

"Hangman, good to see you. Thank you for coming out to help with the Top Gun class this year." Maverick held out his hand to shake with Hangman.

Hangman shook Mavericks hand and they both clasped each others elbows with smiles. "Any time, I'm happy to help."

"Are you nervous, you look nervous." I commented on Mavericks fidgety hands and shifty eyes. He sighed and looked down at his feet.

"Believe it or not I'm not the best public speaker." 

"Get a couple beers in ya, loosen up a little." Hangman chimed in. Based on mavericks reaction, it looked like he remembered something he forgot. Maverick reached into his pocket and pulled out two paper wristbands. He gestured for me to hold out my hand, which I did and he put the wristband on me.

"These will get you free drinks at the bar." Hangman and I looked at each other in excitement, immediately making our way over to the bar and jumping in line. I got just a simple red merlot and Hangman got a rum and coke.

"So, Maverick being your dad. How's that been?" Hangman asked as we found a tall table in the corner to sit down. The question caught me off guard, I almost forgot that it wasn't a secret anymore. Everybody found out when I went to the hospital.

"It's been good. It's weird going your entire adult life not knowing someone was your father but it's also felt like I've known him forever. We can just talk for hours about anything."

Hangman smiled at me, a smile that I knew to be genuine from him. "That's great. Is he the reason you stayed?"

"Mostly. I forgot how much I loved being at Top Gun so I thought I could work there until I was deployed next."

"Well, I think you're doing a great job. You handled yourself well with that asshole."

I rolled my eyes thinking of the arrogant student from earlier today. "I'm going to enjoy making him suffer."

While hangman and I were laughing, we heard a woman gasp loudly and exclaim "Oh my gosh!" I looked over and saw a middle aged woman looking right at me, dragging her husband behind her. My stomach dropped and my face fell into shock. It was the woman from the restaurant the night of Rooster and I's first date.

"What is it what's wrong?" Hangman leaned over the table and asked quietly. Before I could answer, they were there. The woman extended her arms out and hugged me. It became very clear she had one too many glasses of wine.

"I can't believe you're here!" I responded nervously, glancing over at hangman who looked utterly confused.

"I heard there was a naval pilot speaking tonight and I thought, oh what if our friends from the restaurant are here tonight. Darren thought I was crazy but here you are!"

"You're still crazy, Grace." Darren spoke with a monotoned voice and taking a drink of his beer.

"Hush now." She waved her hand back at her husband dismissively. "So where's your other half?" She asked me while looking around the room. I glanced sideways at Hangman, who seemed confused but uninterested in the conversation.

"Oh Bradley is not here right now. He got deployed out in another mission." I explained.

"Oh my goodness. It just dawned on me we don't know your names." Grace smacked her forehead dramatically in a motion of self punishment.

"So it's Bradley and.." she looked at me expectantly.

"Y/n." I responded.

"Bradley and y/n..." she looked at me expectedly again waiting for a last name.

"My last name or his?" I asked.

"Well his will become your soon won't it?" She winked at me.

"Right." I mumbled in realization of the circumstances in which we met this couple. "Bradshaw."

"Y/n Bradshaw. That sounds nice, hon."

Hangman cleared his throat loudly which caused me to look over at him. "Right, this is our mutual friend, Jake. Him and I  went to Fighter Weapons school together."

Grace held her hand out for Jake to shake. "It is lovely to meet you. I'm grace and this is my husband Darren."

"It's nice to meet you both." Hangman chuckled as he shook both their hands.

Grace leaned over to me to whisper in my ear. "Do all the men in the navy look like this?" She asked. I chuckled and shook my head.

"Only all of my friends." I joked back at her with a wink.

"Between your Fiancé and your friend here maybe I need to join the navy." She joked. This caused the entire group to laugh along.

"Well we should get going. It was great to see you again. Tell Bradley we said hi!"

"I will!" I called to them as they slowly walked away from the conversation. Once they were out of sight, I collapsed myself onto the table top dramatically.

Hangman chuckled at me. "So how do you know them?" He asked.

"I went on that date with Bradley to a restaurant and he fake proposed to me to get a free dessert and that couple ended up covering our entire bill." I explained.

Hangman raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Wow. So they think you two are engaged."

"Yep."

"And the people at the hospital?" He asked. I sighed and shrugged. "I suppose so. He said that so he wouldn't have to go home."

Normally, hangman's face read like an open book. Whatever emotion he was feeling was clearly displayed on his face. In the time I've known him, it's either been mischief or laughter. For a brief moment I could have sworn he looked upset. Sadness, disappointment, jealousy, the moment ended too quick for me to decide which.

He quickly looked down in his lap and then back up at me. "I gotta go make a phone call really quick."

His actions I thought were off and out of  character. I watched him slip out of the door and outside into the evening light. I furrowed my eyebrows together and turned around to give my attention to the front of the room, alone, ready to listen to mavericks speech.

Next Chapter

[sodapop182]

Christmas time setting, Steve x fem!reader

This is just a blurb of what I’m working on right now. Not sure if I like where it’s going but we’ll see!! If you have any ideas please let me know!

Christmas is in full swing as all of Hawkins is bustling down Main Street arms full of brightly wrapped packages. Lamp posts lined with white lights twinkle and the smell of pine seeps through the streets.

“Dustin please for the last time I am not going to get Steve hair spray for Christmas!” You screech running through your notepad one last time checking off each item of your shopping list. “Plus you promised you’d actually find out something he would like.”

Dustin whines clearly annoyed with the shopping bags swinging from his arms. “Aren’t you guys like a thing? Wouldn’t you know better than me?” He gives you a shit eating grin as he skips ahead.

Your legs nearly give out at the thought of you and Steve being a “thing.” The situation between you and Steve was well..complicated? Late night drives, deep talks at skull rock, movie trips at 2am with milkshakes at the all night diner weren’t necessarily something only “friends“ would do.. Yet Steve had never even tried to make a move, not even when you clearly leaned in for a kiss at skull rock. You were sure he saw your lips part and eyes gently flutter shut, but he was up and gesturing you towards the well worn dirt path signally it was getting a bit too late to be out. That was nearly six months ago but with each day that passed it someone how felt like yesterday. Frowning at your thoughts you jogged to catch up. “Excuse me! What is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh come on (y/n) I’m not stupid!! Even though Max and El wouldn’t believe that..” Dustin smiles again gauging how far he can push the envelope “I mean it’s pretty obvious he likes you too. Don’t you guys like…go to skull rock to do stuff?”

“Oh my god Dustin!!” You feel a warmth flush over your whole face making you feel a bit dizzy. A busy passerby snaps you back to reality as he dips past with gift boxes towering over the two of you.

Flustered you muster up your best response “We literally just go to talk dingus!” You debated whether or not to attempt explaining to Dustin the talks were more for Steve than you. Whenever he needed a shoulder to cry on or an ear to listen you grabbed your jacket and waited patiently for his maroon beauty to roll up ready to whisk you away to your spot. One too many nights you spent curled up next to Steve as he poured his heart out over girls, friends and the worst of it all his parents. Flipping through your notepad once again you turn to the “Steve’s list” page. Scribbled ideas with lines furiously crossing them out are the only things left. “Seriously what do I even get a guy who has the money to buy everything?”

“Well apparently he doesn’t have you so maybe you gift him a date or something?” you could see the cogs turning in Dustin’s curly haired head as he rambled on “OH OH I know! Maybe me and Eddie could wrap you in a giant gift box! Then during the Christmas party we can leave you on the door step! And-“ Laughing you pull Dustin to the left to avoid another busy Christmas shopper.

“Alright buddy I’m going to stop you there because knowing you and Munson you’ll forget to poke holes in the box and suffocate me” Before Dustin can defend himself the man of the hour is calling your names from across the street waving like a mad man.

Andddd that’s it for now!!!! Will repost this with some edits & of course the finished story:)

[slasherbastard]

How Bo, Brahms, Michael, and Jason would react to a reader who has caring, loving parents who often visit their daughter or ask to visit them because they miss her and want to spend time with her, perhaps lunch or even overnight her house... (this is what my parents do to me every weekend we meet for lunch or dinner) (((sorry, english if I'm wrong, it's not my native language))) Kisses from Brazil !!!!

(gif credit: tatianakawkaw)

Warning: None Word count: 1194 Notes: Your english is perfect anon! Also sorry this is short, i'm going to try to post part two at the end of next week

(gif credit: octoberis4loverz)

Michael Myers

He shook his head before you could even finish your sentence and stood up, there was no way that he was going to let complete strangers - well to him, these complete strangers were your parents - into his home again. He got up and exited the room while you groaned and followed him. 'Michael they'll just want to come over for an hour to catch up after we go out and then they will go home. That's it I promise.'

Michael just turned around and watched you silently. You couldn't tell whether or not he was contemplating his answer or just staring at you. 'Please?'

He reached over to the shelf beside him and grabbed a notepad and pen and began scribbling something on the page and showed it to you.

DO THEY KNOW ABOUT ME.

'Nope. You're completely in the clear, Myers.' Michael nodded at your comment and began writing again.

ONLY ONE TIME.

You smiled in satisfaction. 'Thank you.' You went to pull out your phone but you stopped and looked up at the masked man. 'Hey. Promise you're not going to kill my parents.' You heard a soft scoff come from under his mask.

(gif credit: bloodybrahms)

Bo Sinclair

'Hey I have to go, my break's nearly over. Alright, alright, yes I've been thinking about it but I don't know. Yes I know but work is pretty hectic, dad- dad- dad! I have to go, okay? Tell mum that I said hi. Okay, bye!' You hung up and looked over at Bo who was leaning against his truck watching you. Shoving your phone in your pocket, you walked over to him and wrapped your arms around him. 'I'm sorry I keep dragging you out here. Ambrose needs a damn cell tower.'

'Yeah, yeah. Was that your dad again?'

'Yeah. My parents really miss me. You can only put them off with work for so long, you know?' You broke away from Bo and got into the truck and rolled the window down, you had an idea but you weren't sure how Bo would feel about it or what would happen if things escalated. 'What if I let them visit me just once, like maybe for lunch? Then they wouldn't need to see me for at least a couple of months, they still think I have a job that takes up enough of my time.' Bo shrugged and looked off for a moment.

'I mean if you want, but i'm not a chef. Though it'd probably be nice to meet them.' Your head snapped to Bo and the realisation of what he'd just said hit him.

'Wait. . .are you - Beauregard Sinclair - asking to meet my parents?' Bo stayed silent suddenly more interested in his shoes kicking at the dirt, not even trying to look you in the eyes and admit it but he wanted to take your relationship further but didn't exactly know how to. Of course he's dated in the past but his relationships were never that serious and he never got to the "meeting the parents" stage.

When Bo finally looked up you were still looking at him, not trying to hide the smile at wasn't going to be leaving your face anytime soon. He just rolled his eyes and walked around the truck and got in. 'Yeah I mean. . .why not?'

'You're getting soft, Sinclair.'  Bo bit down on his lip to hide his smile and went to turn the truck on but you stopped him and got your phone out. 'Hang on, I'm going to call my dad back. Is Sunday okay?'

'Anytime, darling.' You leaned over and kissed him before getting out of the car and calling your dad again.

(gif credit: helmi-laine)

Brahms Heelshire

'Okay I'll think about it- yes mother I will- okay- okay- yes but it's late- bye!' You quickly shut your laptop and let you head fall into your hands, a yawn escaping your mouth. As much as you loved your parents they could be a bit of a handful at times (especially when they were constantly asking if they could visit and weren't taking no for answer). A creak coming from ahead of you snapped you out of your thoughts as you looked up just in time to see Brahms peeking his head out from behind the doorway. You perked up and smiled tiredly at him. 'Need something, Brahmsy?'

'Rule 1: no guests allowed.' Of course he had been listening.

'I know Brahms but I miss them. I haven't seen them for months.' you paused and let another yawn out and Brahms walks over and sits down diagonal from you, taking one of your hands into his and caressing it. 'What if they stayed overnight just once? They still think I'm just babysitting a doll so you don't have to talk to them or anything like that. ' Brahms stopped at your offer and looked at you.

'Once?'

'Once. I swear. Then you won't have to worry about them.'

'Only if you promise to come to bed now.'

You smiled at him. 'Of course. I'll call her back in the morning.' and with that the two of you were getting up and getting ready for bed.

(gif credit: dextriousoner)

Jason Voorhees

A shiver ran through you as you held onto Jason's body, your sweater and the blanket shielding the two of you not really doing much to secure any warmth. The two of you were having a lazy day since there were no counsellors to deal with and no more chores left to do around the camp. You had been wanting to tell Jason that your parents planned on visiting but you didn't want to ruin the moment. He must've been able to tell you were nervous when his hand fell beside yours and embraced it, giving it a tight squeeze. You turned over and gave him a soft smile.

'Hey big boy. Can I ask you something?'

Jason nodded so you let go of him and sat up, he looked up at you worriedly and sat up as well. 'Well you see, I've been speaking with my parents and they want to come visit but they also want to sleepover. Would that be okay?' Jason stared back at you for a moment, hesitating to raise his hands and sign you a reply. 'Take your time, I don't need an answer right away J.'

You got up and tried to leave the bed but Jason pulled you back down and you gave him a questioning look. He brought up his hands again. 'It's okay. I will stay out of the way.' You were shocked that Jason was happy to let your parents visit considering that visitors never got to leave. You went to ask him what made him accept your offer but he beat you to it. 'Anything to make you happy. I miss my own mother too.'

'Okay, what day is- any day right?' Jason nodded and watched as you excitedly dialled your mother's number and waited for her to pick up.

'Y/N?'

'Mom, hey! I got good news, the camp's almost ready to reopen again. Do you and dad want to come visit? Maybe stay the night?'