#I WAS READING ABOUT THEM AND WAS ALL: Huh...I've seen this story before...

[drabblesandimagines]

Swipe Right

Leon Kennedy x female reader, commissioned piece Lots of dumb fluff ahead! Thanks so much to the lovely @porcelainseashore for commissioning me with the brief of Leon using a dating app! I've said it before and I'll say it again - please do go check out Porcelain's fics! x

“So,” Leon places his elbows on the counter behind, leans back and flashes a winning smile, “how about dinner later?”

The auburn-haired woman waits for her coffee to finish dispensing before she shakes her head, lips pursed. “No, thank you, Agent Kennedy.”

“Oh.” He was sure they’d had some sort of connection. Their eyes had met across the office on more than one occasion, flirtatiously so – had he read it wrong? “You have plans already tonight?”

“Mm, something like that.” She smiles, politely, picking up her DSO-branded mug and heading out of the break room without so much as a glance back.

Leon shrugs it off – he’s good at that – and places his own mug under the spout, about to make his coffee selection when a familiar voice chirps over his shoulder.

“Have you ever thought of internet dating?”

He spins round, surprised. “Claire?”

“Hi.” She waves with a smile. “So, internet dating?”

Leon’s brow furrowed, about to ask why she was here, but from the visitor lanyard around her neck it was clear it was down to some sort of TerraSafe business, but why is she going on about internet dating?

Oh.

“Wait, did you hear…?”

“The dinner invite? Oh, yes.” She nods, crossing her arms. “Does that ever work?”

“Yes.”

Claire quirks an eyebrow.

“Okay, not recently.” He retorts, turning back around and pressing the button for his black coffee to start dispensing.

“Uh-huh…” She steps forward, turns to lean against the counter to look at him. “I’m telling you, Leon - internet dating. I finally convinced Chris to give it a go about six months back, and he seems pretty happy. Been seeing a nice girl for three months now – a florist.”

Leon shakes his head, watching the coffee dispense with feigned interest. “Surprised Redfield went for it. How the hell do you introduce anyone to what we’ve seen?” At least with women from work, he didn’t have to skirt around what the hell he does all day.

“Heard of keeping work and homelife separate?”

“And Chris manages that?”

“I mean, she knows what he’s shared with her, but he took it slow. It’s not like the government can keep everything secret these days – not with everyone having a smart phone.” Claire grimaces, remembering the videos of the Alcatraz attack popping up on social media on a live stream. It was taken down pretty quick, but still popped up occasionally. They can’t hide it forever.

“Anyway, enough about Chris’ love life, I’m trying to help yours. Have you tried it? There’s websites and apps…”

Leon recalls a week of medical leave – battered, bruised and laid out on the couch on high doses of meds, flipping through the cable channels and losing hours to a show about people falling in love over the internet, only for the person to be using a fake photo of an entirely different identity and being crushed when they met in person.

“Isn’t that where the catfish are?”

Claire rolls her eyes. “We won’t set your radius that large.”

He looks down, a little confused. “My… radius?”

Leon’s not present on social media, but that’s hardly a surprise with his work. Maybe, if things had been different, he would’ve trawled through it at some point – joined a group for graduates from the Police Academy of ’98, checked in, gone to some sort of graduating class reunion where they would’ve swapped stories from precincts over a lukewarm beer or two in a hall dressed up with balloons and streamers.

Come to think of it, he doesn’t really remember the names of anyone in his graduating class, though he’s not sure if that’s down to a certain amount of knocks to the head throughout his career getting to him. He could look them up – they’ll be in some sort of database somewhere that Hunnigan could help him locate, but what would he say?

“Me? Well, I had one day on the job – hell of a first day, actually – and then I was ‘recruited’ into military training, so technically not a cop anymore either.”

“Phone, please.” Claire has moved to sit down at one of the small tables in the kitchen, now holding out her hand expectantly. He finds himself joining her, mug of coffee in one hand and the other pulling out his cell from his suit jacket pocket. He hands it over because it’s Claire and he’s known her long enough now to know she’s not going to drop the subject so easily.

“Have you got any selfies on here?”

“Don’t think so. Why?”

“To put on your profile. Anything I shouldn’t see in your gallery?”

He shakes his head.

“Seriously, Leon?” She must’ve opened the app by the way she’s scrolling down on the screen. “These are all sunsets and photos of your motorcycle.”

“What should I be picking pictures of?”

“Oh, wait… Here’s one.” She turns the phone around. It’s him, grinning, next to a corpse of a zombiefied lion. “I repeat – seriously, Leon?”

“Ha, yeah.” He smiles in acknowledgement. “I was trying to get Hunnigan interested in fieldwork with the spectacular sights.” Claire turns the phone back around and the sound of a camera shutter clicks out of the speaker.

“Ooh, that’s a good candid – and no-one needs to know what you were looking at.”

“Look, it’s nice of you to offer, but I don’t know about all this…” He rubs the back of his head.

“It’s 30 days free. Just try it and if you still don’t like it by the end of the trial, you can delete it off your phone and I won’t bring it up again.”

He stalls, taking a long sip of his coffee as he thinks. Claire means well, after all and if Chris has had luck with it, considering what Leon knows he’s seen and lived through, what does he have to lose, really?

“Fine. 30 days.”

“Great! Now, let’s set up your profile…”

--

Claire had given him a tutorial – swipe left if you’re not interested on a profile, right if you are. If the person swipes right in return, it’ll set you up as a match and you can start a conversation – signaled by a small speech bubble icon appearing on the bottom right.

It wasn’t until that evening that Leon tried it out properly, sat on his couch, killing time before bed and begins to swipe through. It feels a little odd – he usually likes to get to know a person somewhat before offering out his dinner invite, but this is mostly on looks alone, with a tiny snippet of profile information – age, location, what they’re looking for.

He swipes right on a blonde, her profile full of photos from beach vacations or something, says she’s not too far away from him and is ‘looking to connect with someone deeply.’ A chat box pops up immediately and after a moment or two, three dots show Beauty – he’s not sure that’s her real name - is typing.

Hey, big boy. What’s bigger – your forearms or… An eggplant emoji?

Oh.

He hesitates over writing back a response. He can flirt with the best of them, but how is anyone meant to make a genuine connection over this app? Maybe he’s too old for this shit.

He puts his cell down by his side and switches on the television instead.

--

“So…” Claire drawls over his shoulder over three weeks later, tracked him down to his desk.

“So…” He mocks back with a tease, swinging around in his office chair.

“Any good dates recently?”

He laughs. “How do you even get that far?”

“You’ve not gone on one?”

“Not for lack of trying.” It’s true. After Beauty, he had struck up conversation with a few more genuine girls that seemed to be going well until he’d broached the idea of a date and they’d drop off the radar. “A couple seemed interested but then stopped replying. I got one date – she didn’t show up.”

“Oh, come on.” Claire leans against his desk. “That can’t be everyone. Let me see.” There’s the expectant hand again. He sighs, picks up his phone and opens the app before handing it over to her.

She sets to scrolling through new arrivals for him, before she pauses. “Well, this one looks sweet.”

“Claire, I appreciate your concern but I just don’t think this app is for me. I gave it a go, I swear.”

“I know, but you’ve got a few days left on the free trial at least - you won’t lose anything. Just take a look?”

He takes the phone back and looks at the screen – a cropped picture of you, it looks like, your friends’ arms around your shoulders, a big, genuine smile on your face. Not a pout or a smolder in a night club mirror.

“Aw, you’re smiling.”

“Fine.” He swipes, but the message bubble doesn’t pop up. That’s the one thing he doesn’t like about this app – you never know if the other one will swipe back.

“No match.”

“Give her a moment,” Claire elbows him, playfully. “Not everyone is scrolling for dates at work.”

“Hey-”

“Speaking of, I’ve got a meeting. See you!”

--

You throw yourself down on the bed, a little bit tipsy after an evening of drinking with your friends, and hold your phone dangerously above your face – you’ve been so close to giving yourself a black eye from the drop so many times but never learn – and open up that stupid app. Your friend had encouraged you to sign up to it after declaring you’d been in a pity party for long enough now after your last break-up and it was time to get back out there.

You scroll through the latest arrivals, swiping left as you go. Everyone internet dates now, you don’t know why you only seem to attract utter creeps on it. You’d been on a few dates, but they’d all been entirely awkward outside the safety of the chat box.

You pause on one new arrival, Leon, 41, the first photo in the set clearly a candid. He’s dressed in a suit – no tie. Businessman, you wonder? Amazingly hot and maybe the most shiniest hair you’ve ever seen.

You roll over onto your stomach and swipe right, smiling when a chat bubble appears.

--

Leon had just settled into bed for the night when his phone vibrated angrily on the bedside table. He threw a hand out, blindly, and looked at the screen, half expecting it to be an email from work or a message from Hunnigan.

It’s neither – a notification from the app.

Hi, Leon. Thanks for swiping. Can I ask something?

He frowns – a unique opener, but it could still go the way of the others, he reckons. He’s not a prude, per say, but he’s seen a lot more than he was intending to these past few weeks. He backs up and has a quick scroll through your profile, vaguely recognizing your face from when he’d swiped right earlier that day – the girl Claire had deemed sweet.

Hi – ask away.

A bubble appears with three dots within.

How do you get your hair that shiny?

Leon barks out a laugh - definitely refreshing.

I’m sorry, I don’t think we’re at that stage of our relationship yet where I’m comfortable sharing my beauty secrets.

Please? Mine is so dull.

He clicks on your profile again and onto the photos but can’t see why you’re worried about your hair. Truthfully, all he registers when he looks at the picture is that sweet, genuine smile.

Looks pretty good from what I can see.

The camera adds all the shine. Are you using a filter?

Trust me when I say I wouldn’t know how.

Don’t know about filters but using a dating app? That doesn’t gel.

My friend suggested I give this online dating thing a go, so here I am.

Well, you’ll have to thank your friend for me.

Leon hesitates a moment, before shrugging it off.

I’ll be sure to, especially as it’s got me talking to you.

Your scalp tingles, but it seems nothing to do with the alcohol consumed earlier.

Too cheesy? I told you I’m new to this, right?

Nah, you’re gouda.

Leon grins.

--

The conversation continues to flow over the next few days. You talk about work – he keeps it vague, works in the government, can be called away on business trips last minute – and you are equally elusive in your response of office work. Internet safety, he reckons, smart girl that you are. Hearing his phone ping with a notification has quickly become his favourite sound.

Nice day? Definitely. Picked up my motorcycle – it’s been in the shop a while. Dare I ask what happened? He hesitates. Chasing a bioterrorist down a highway is perhaps a little too much…

Hit by a truck. I wasn’t on it - obviously.

Jeez. Insurance not just buy you a new one? I can’t think how that’s salvageable.

It’s my favourite, I couldn’t give up on her. You ever been on a motorcycle?

Uh-uh. Too scared.

What of?

Falling off, mainly.

No danger of that if you ride tandem - just need to be sure to hold on real tight.

You bite your lip, mulling over a response, but Leon fills the gap.

And I’d look after you, of course. Make a nice first date, don’t you think?

First date? That’s more, like, third or even fourth date material.

There’s your chance, Kennedy – don’t mess it up.

Well, then we better get the first date out of the way.

You bite your lip as you type back a response. Is that your way of asking?

If it is?

If it is, then I’m free Friday...

Perfect.

--

Friday morning arrives and Leon’s at his desk, typing up a report when his phone chimes. Checking over his shoulder, he pulls it out of his pocket and smiles when he sees it’s a text from you. You’d exchanged numbers the other night, deciding it time to take communication off app ahead of meeting up.

Morning. Question?

Morning. Still after my shampoo secrets?

Yes… But not that. How am I meant to recognize you?

I thought that’d be easy – by how shiny my hair is, apparently.

It’ll be dark out, though.

Is this you trying to be subtle about asking for another photo?

No comment.

Leon locks his computer, the screensaver switching to today’s date and time on a black background. He swings his desk chair around, looks around again to make sure no-one’s on their way past, and opens the camera app. He flips the viewfinder around and tries out a couple of smiles before snapping a selfie – if Claire could see him now…

He sends it through.

Included the time and date and all. Happy?

No comment.

Well, how will I recognize you?

Easy. I’ll be the one coming up to you and saying, “Hi, Leon.” See you tonight x

Until then x

--

The two of you had decided to meet at a bistro – varied menu for all tastes, not too intimate, excellent wine, spirits and craft beer menu.

Leon is nervous as he stands to the side of the entrance – an emotion he hasn’t truly entertained since 1998. There had been no time for it when bioweapons and death were staring him down the face. But, tonight… Well, he’s out of his element on this one. Leon had only ever approached women through work and, yes, it was to varying degrees of success but they’d already seen him properly in person, heard his voice, aware of what he does. There was a horrible niggle at the back of his mind that the date who had stood him up a few weeks ago had caught sight of him and turned heel on the spot.

He looks down at this watch to see it’s bang on 7.30. He’d arrived ten minutes too early, but didn’t want to chance being late and showing up in a fluster. When he looks up, slipping a hand back into his pocket, a figure with a familiar face is walking towards him, greets him with an anxious smile and an awkward half-wave.

God, you’re adorable.

“Hi, Leon.” 

“Hi,” He smiles, one hand still in his pocket, the other hanging down by his side. He wonders if he should’ve gone in for the kiss on the cheek, but he’s missed his chance.

“Erm…” You wring your hands together. “You okay?”

“Great. You?”

Why does he feel as giddy as he did when he picked up his girlfriend for prom back at high school?

“I’m good. It’s nice to put a… voice to a face?” You laugh – light and airy - and Leon’s already desperate to hear it again.

“It really is. Er, shall we?” He gestures forward with his arm.

You nod. “Let’s.”

The conversation is stagnant at first, a sentence here or there as you peruse the drinks menu and move on to ordering starters and entrees. With a little liquid courage, though, the two of you soon slip into easy conversation.

It’s just after the appetizers are cleared when Leon realizes he’s completely and utterly smitten.

You don’t even know where the time has gone, but all of the sudden the two of you are the only diners left and it’s clear the wait staff are looking for you to leave so they can begin their nightly clean down.

He follows you out and onto the sidewalk, a few metres away from the bistro entrance, standing awkwardly opposite each other – mirroring the beginning of the evening.

“So, fancy a ride?”

You tilt your head at him curiously before you burst out into laughter and he grins, rubbing the back of his head, awkwardly, as he realizes the context.

“I mean, I brought my bike here. I can give you a ride home - on my bike.”

You smile. “Not on the first date, remember?”

“Of course.” He nods. “Sticking to your principles – I respect that. Well, can I call you a cab?”

“Oh, actually, I’m gonna walk. I live just in that building over there…” You point up to an apartment building about halfway up the next block.

“I could walk you across the street?” He cringes as he realizes maybe he’s coming on too heavy-handed. “I’m sorry, I promise I can take a hint-”

“No.” You cut across abruptly. “I mean, walking me home would be nice.”

You cross the road in silence, both wrapped up in your own thoughts. You wish you lived slightly further away so you’d have longer to work out what to say, how to end the night.

“So…” Leon begins the other side of the road, the entrance to your apartment block just ahead. He’s trying to keep calm and collected, but there’s just something about you that has made his heart race, his palms sweaty. Don’t fuck this up, Kennedy. “I had a really lovely evening.”

“Me too.” You smile back – and you mean it – but you can’t help but brace yourself. Is this the part where he says, yeah, he had a nice time, but he’d rather not do it again? It seems all too good to be true. He’s the same as he was on the phone, messages and photos.

“Great…” You take a deep breath at his pause, unconsciously clenching your fists, “..cos I was wondering how you felt about a second date?”

“You’re really desperate to get me on that motorcycle, huh?” You tease, instantly relaxing. “But, seriously, I’d like that, to see you again.”

“Is tomorrow too soon?”

“That depends what you have in mind.” You stop, suddenly – the apartment foyer to your left. “This is me.”

“Well, we’ve done dinner, shall we work backwards and have lunch next?”

You take a step closer. “And then breakfast?”

“Fourth could be a midnight feast?” He steps forward too, misjudging the distance and something hard brushes against your stomach. Leon’s eyes widen in alarm. “Oh, wait, I…” He dips his hand into his trouser pocket and pulls out a travel-sized bottle of shampoo with a sheepish smile. “I meant to give you this at the end of dinner – my beauty secret.”

You yank him forward by his jacket collar and kiss him before you can even think properly about what you’re doing. You step up onto your tip toes to deepen the kiss, a hand bracing yourself against his chest for a moment before you mean to step back, maybe even apologise for pouncing on the man, but Leon’s arms wrap around your waist, holding you in place, kissing you back incessantly before you both have to retreat for breath.

“Well, if I knew the shampoo would get that reaction I would’ve started the night off with it.” He murmurs, pulling away and resting his forehead against yours. “I gotta ask though - you’ll kiss on the first date, but not ride a motorcycle?”

You shrug, half-heartedly. “One’s more dangerous than the other.”

He kisses you once more, softly, ending with a teasing nibble on your lip.

“Oh, we’ll see about that, sweetheart.” -- Masterlist . 1,000 followers event

[mrsbrookemunson]

I've seen a few stories about the reader being Eddie's secret admirer but what about the other way around? Eddie is your secret admirer and leaves you little notes in your locker. He praises you and encourages you-- maybe a little pick-me-up when you're feeling down. Occasionally he'll slip small gifts into your backpack. Anything to see you smile :)

I love this idea. This is going to be a little self-indulgent, not gonna lie.

Warnings: TOOTH. ROTTING. FLUFF. a lil angst, insecure reader, no use of pronouns, no use of 'y/n', Eddie's a little bit of an idiot, very low-key stalker!Eddie, Robin, mentions of unrequited feelings (it's rumored he likes Chrissy), not proofread so most likely grammar and spelling errors (sorry)

Word Count: 3923

Eddie Munson was absolutely enamored by you. He didn't quite know what it was that drew him to you. You weren't part of the popular crowd, you only had your small group of friends, and you always seemed to be so... self-conscious - or so he noticed.

Maybe that was where he got the idea in the first place.

He noticed you were especially quiet one day. Head down, headphones over your ears as you wrote seamlessly in your journal. He wondered what you were writing about, what you were listening to, and why you had a small frown etched onto your face.

Had someone said something to you?

You suddenly raised your hand.

His head snapped forward.

Had you caught him staring? Were you going to say something? Humiliate him? He pictured a thousand ways this could go.

"May I go to the restroom, please?" you asked, timidly.

But, that wasn't one of them.

"Quickly please..." the teacher granted.

You got up and walked out of the classroom. Eddie glanced over at your journal, a pen in between the pages, bookmarking where you left off. He bit his lip, concentrating on something before a lightbulb lit up in his mind. He glimpsed at the teacher than at the door before ripping a small piece of paper out of his notebook. His tongue ever-so-slightly poked out as he scribbled down something in a hurry before leaning over to slip it in between the pages of your journal.

The bell rang right when you stepped back into the classroom, giving Eddie the perfect opportunity to leave undetected. He smoothly slipped passed you, your shoulders brushing each other's. It sent sparks up through his body. The feeling lingered and he couldn't wipe the smile off his face.

He wanted to watch your reaction, but that would risk giving him away. He forced himself away, already planning his next plan of action.

You on the other hand were in shock.

Good job on the test. I saw you got an A. You're too smart for the rest of this school... and too pretty. - Love, your secret admirer <3

Your eyebrows furrowed a little. Neither one of this person's statements were necessarily true. There were people way prettier than you here, not to mention smarter. But, nonetheless it was nice to hear. It brought a smile to your face, but it slowly fell.

Surely, this is a joke.

You were surprised to say the least the next morning when you opened your locker and a note fluttered down, out and onto the floor. You leaned down to pick it up and carefully looked around whilst standing upright. You unfolded the piece of paper.

Did I mention you were pretty in my last note? I did't mean to sound creepy - not to say you aren't pretty because you are very pretty, I could stare at you all day. Don't read that. - Love, your secret, not creepy, admirer :)

You giggled at the slight awkwardness the writing held. It was almost endearing. Key word: Almost. You still couldn't help but think this was some kind of joke.

"What's that?" Robin asked, pointing to the note in your hand.

"Wha-oh nothing!" You stuck it in your pocket.

"Oooo, does someone have a secret admirer?" she teased

"What?! No, that's-that's silly," you denied "It was just trash, something from an old assignment."

"Uh huh, sure."

"Robin!" you scolded, annoyed. "I'm being serious."

She put her hands up in surrender. "Whatever. You. Say."

You rolled your eyes, as the two of you began to walk side-by-side to your first period.

"But, if it is a secret admirer, who do you think it is? Who do you want it to be?"

"Look." You stopped walking, cuing Robin to also stop. "Even if it is something, it's probably a joke. One of the jocks playing some cruel prank on me." You glanced behind you and saw none other than Eddie Munson standing there staring at you. You smiled when you met his eyes.

His eyes widened a slight blush creeping up onto his cheeks, as he rushed off.

Robin caught the interaction. "What was that all about?" she asked, excitedly.

"Nothing!"

"What if it's him?"

"Who? Eddie?"

"Yes, Eddie!"

You shook your head. "No. That can't be possible, wasn't it rumored he liked Chrissy a couple of months ago?" You started to walk again.

"Firstly, that was a couple of months ago, and secondly, it was 'rumored'. It was never confirmed."

"Doesn't sound unreasonable to me," you said, not trying to sound too upset. "Guys like Eddie, don't like girls like me."

"You want it to be him, don't you?"

"Forget it, it's not important. What is important is the Econ test."

Robin groaned loudly, reluctantly stepping into the classroom. You turned back to where Eddie was previously standing and with a loud sigh you entered the classroom.

Eddie's eyes were glued to you in the cafeteria. You were cheerfully talking to Robin about something and his heart couldn't help but flutter at the way your eyes lit up. What he'd give to be able to talk with you, and listen to that sweet voice of yours for hours.

He watched, intently, as your eyes suddenly caught your reflection on something. He saw the way you slumped before attempting to sit up more. The grimace on your face growing more evident by the second.

Why the Hell were you looking at the love of his life that way?

He ripped out a piece of paper and wrote something down. Standing up, he stormed out of the cafeteria and to your locker where he slipped the note in. He scanned his surroundings and saw no one around to ruin the secret before it had really even started. Whistling, as he goes to his locker. He opened it when a note fell from it. He picked it up and read it.

Meet me in the woods at 12:15 tomorrow. Bring whatever you have. - C.C.

C.C.? His eyes widened in realization.

Chrissy Cunningham wants to do a drug deal?

You smiled, softly, when you saw your secret admirer had left you yet another note.

No matter what you think, you look absolutely beautiful today - and everyday. I like you in blue. - Love, your secret admirer <3

You felt as though you were in a daze. You looked down at your blue sweater which - until now - you felt like a blimp in. Guess, whoever your secret admirer is thought otherwise. You bite your lip and tucked the note in between the pages of your journal where you'd keep - like all the rest of them - it there for safe keeping.

"Anymore love letters?" Robin asked, scaring you.

"Don't do that!" You put a hand over your heart as if it'd help slow it down from its rapid pace. "Yeah, if you consider them love letters."

"Do you want me to try to help you figure them out?"

"If you say-"

"I'll start. Eddie."

"Robin!" You slam your locker and walk away. "It's not him."

"Talk to him, be friendly, see what happens-hey, I might be right!"

"That would be the first."

"Hey!" She grabbed your shoulder to stop you. "I know it's really hard to be brave because you're scared of what the outcome could be, but think about it-if this person is being genuine, you might have something really special here."

You sigh. "I'll think about it, okay?"

Robin grins, widely. "Now, start with Eddie."

You roll your eyes. "Fine, but only to get you off my back, and cross him off the list."

It can't be him, it's impossible.

You sat down at your usual seat, now being awkwardly aware it's next to Eddie's seat. You pull out your journal, smiling when you see the note previous notes you've received. You turn back to your backpack to grab your pen but are surprised to see that there is a new set of pens next to your pencil bag. You pull it out and observe it. They were nice, really nice. One in blue, pink, red, black, orange, green, and purple. A note attached to them.

Thought you might like these since you write so much. I noticed you color code things sometimes so I bought you a couple of different colors to give you some options. Hope you like them - Love, your secret - now broke - admirer.

You laugh, pleasantly surprised. You remembered leaving your backpack on a chair in the cafeteria that morning while you used the bathroom. You tend to forget to go at home due oversleeping, leading to the frantic rush of trying to get ready in time.

Eddie perked up hearing the sound of your laughter beside him making him look over. His breath hitched in his throat - you liked his note, you liked him present, you were liking him. He cleared his throat. "What's that you got?"

You froze for a moment. "Huh?" You looked at Eddie.

He pointed toward the note. "Got a secret admirer or something?"

You bit back a smile. "Something like that." You couldn't hide your giddiness.

Eddie found it absolutely adorable. "Any ideas of who it is?"

"Nope, not a clue." You narrowed your eyes at him. "Wouldn't be you, would it?"

Eddie nearly choked, but he somehow held his composure. "Sorry, sweetheart, but it is not."

You shrugged, not even noticing the slip of the pet name in his answer. "I figured."

He gave you a confused expression. "You-you figured?"

"Well, yeah, everyone knows you-" you leaned closer toward him. "You like Chrissy," you whispered.

He gaped at you. "Chrissy?"

"Yeah."

"Where on Earth did you hear that?"

"People were talking about it a couple of months ago. Don't tell me it's not true."

His posture straightened. "What if I told you it wasn't?"

You weakly smiled. "I'd call you a liar," you replied, softly. Paying attention to the teacher as she started the class.

It made it so you didn't catch the way Eddie sunk further into his seat.

What had he done?

That was his chance to tell you how he felt, and he blew it.

Chrissy Cunningham?

Now, all he thought about for the rest of class was the fact that he was having a drug deal with his so-called 'crush' tomorrow in the woods.

Wasn't it obvious he was in love with you?

The answer is no, no it wasn't because if it was maybe you would've already pulled the plug and ask him out, but you hadn't and you wouldn't especially not after his lack of denial for liking Chrissy Cunningham.

Robin was wrong.

"You were wrong," you said to Robin, passing by her quickly in the hallway.

It was the next day, the bell for the lunch period had rung just a few seconds ago and you were briefly explaining your avoidance to your best friend.

"But, I'm never wrong!" she claimed in a shout over the crowd. "He's lying!"

You rolled your eyes, leaving the hustle and bustle of students going to the cafeteria. You needed to be alone. Alone in your thoughts, where it's just you and your journal... and maybe a few tears.

Because though Robin may have been wrong about it being Eddie, she wasn't wrong about you wanting it to be Eddie. You had gotten a note from your secret admirer yesterday before school ended saying,

I know you don't know who I am, but I need you to know I like you... a lot. And I know we don't talk that much, but I want to, because you are so amazing and why wouldn't I want to be with you? Who wouldn't want to be with you? Everyday I question myself on why I haven't bit the bullet yet and asked you out and it's because I'm afraid. Of how you'd react, of how others would react, and I don't want to risk having you hate me. Which I doubt you would anyways because you're you, the nicest person I've ever spoken to. So, please, give me time to work up the courage, don't give up on me, I don't think I could take it. I'm done now, maybe this scared you off - probably scared you off... um... bye- your secret admirer.

You thought back to how your heart squeezed as you read every word. You wished you knew who it was, so you could put their mind at peace. So, you could put your mind at peace.

You found yourself in the woods, setting your stuff down on the wooden table that was placed in the most secluded part of the area. Hardly no one goes out there. It was a place you could allow yourself to pace around and think things through.

Who is it?

That was the number one question. You attempted to conjure a mental list of possible candidates but you always drew a blank every time you tried.

Who would ever like-

You screamed as your back collided into something behind you. You spun around.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," Eddie chuckled, holding out a hand.

"Eddie? Wh-what are you doing out here?"

"Confidential," he said, analyzing your overall physical presence. "You okay?" he asked.

"Define 'okay'." You dryly laugh, sitting down at the table.

He frowned and sat across from you, setting his metal lunchbox next to your stuff. "You want to tell me about it? Or do I have to guess?"

You rest your forearms on the table. "Do you ever feel like-like you don't fit in?"

He looked taken aback. "On-like-a daily basis," he answered, a wide smile taking over his face, directed toward you. "You forget you're talking to 'the freak', sweetheart."

You groaned softly.

That made his smile falter. "Why d'you ask?"

You shrugged, suddenly your hands become fascinating as you stared at them fidgeting. "Guess I haven't been feeling-" You cleared your throat, "-great about myself lately, that's all?"

He propped himself up slightly on the table. "Something happen?"

"More like someone." You glanced up at him to gauge at his expression. It held concern. You carelessly threw your hands up. "You know that admirer I spoke about the other day?"

He nodded, slowly. "Yeah."

"I've been wracking my mind trying to figure out who it is, and I just... can't. Sometimes I believe I'm a little unlovable at times."

"What?!" he blurted. "Sweetheart, that's not true, you are so lovable!"

You grew very confused by his sudden outburst, but he didn't seem to catch on as he continued.

He stood up and walked over to your side of the table to sit next to you. To have your full attention. "You are smart, funny, talented and so, so beautiful." Your heart skipped a beat. "God, who wouldn't want to be with you?"

Your eyes shot up to meet his. "What did you say?"

"Huh?" He tilted his head. "You-you didn't hear any of that?"

"No-yes! I mean what did you say at the end?"

"Who wouldn't want to be with you?" he repeated unsure.

Why wouldn't I want to be with you? Who wouldn't want to be with you? You recalled from the note.

"Eddie?" you called out in the same tone as his previous one.

"Yeah?"

"I'm going to ask you this one last time, and I want you to tell me the truth." You took in a deep breath. "Are you the person who has been writing to me?"

He suddenly turned pale. His eyes nervously flickered away from yours. "Ummm..." He couldn't seem to form any words. "Maybe-well-I-um..."

You shifted a little closer to him.

His eyes moved back to focus on you and how close you've gotten. "Hi," he whispered, taking in every single inch of your face. Every flaw and imperfection.

So goddamn beautiful.

He exhaled shakily. It fanned your face causing your eyes to flutter shut. Both of you gravitating toward each other unknowingly. Your noses barely brushed each others when another voice broke the silence.

"Am I interrupting something?"

You abruptly moved away from Eddie and met the eyes of none other than Chrissy Cunningham. You gaze averted to Eddie who looked rather frantic and disheveled.

"Confidential," he said.

Oh.

"Oh," you said aloud. "No-I-um-I was just leaving." You rapidly gathered your stuff.

Eddie watched helplessly, instinctively reaching out to grab you, to stop you, but you dodged it. He got up to try again, this time he was able to catch your hand, gently grasping it. He leaned toward you. "It's just a drug deal, I swear," he said, lowly. "You have to believe me." His eyes pleaded.

You dared a glimpse at Chrissy. She looked uncomfortable as she scanned her surroundings as if anyone could be watching. At that moment it didn't seem like a lie, but at the same time your mind brought you back to the rumor, and the fact that you didn't know if that was a lie or not.

You formed your lips into a tight-line. "I'll see you around, Eddie," you bit back before pulling away and storming off.

Eddie debated on running after you, but instead he took in a sharp breath before shooting a fake smile at Chrissy. "So... let's get started, shall we?"

Your foot tapped against the tiled floors. Peering straight in front of you, not really paying attention to the lesson. How could you when you felt Eddie's eyes on you the entire time next to you? From your peripheral vision you saw Eddie writing something down on a sheet of paper. He slid his foot over to nudge yours, trying to get your attention to take the paper out of his hands.

The devil won the argument in this case as you carefully grabbed it and set it down on your desk.

Can we talk, please?

After reading it, you grabbed your pen and wrote back.

What is there to talk about?

You handed him back the sheet of paper without looking at him. You heard him sigh loudly along with a scribble of something. He pushed the paper back into your hands.

I need you to know the full story. Five minutes? That's all I'm asking for.

You thought through it. You clicked your pen twice then wrote a response.

Fine.

He let out a breath of relief.

Thank you. Meet me by my van at 4pm.

Your eyebrow quirked up.

Are you planning on kidnapping me?

If that's what it takes to get you to listen to me Does 4pm work for you?

I read that. And yes, that works for me.

Eddie's hope grew a little at your words. He prayed - to whichever god was out there, ones in which he didn't believe in - that he didn't ruin what hasn't even had the chance to begun.

'Cause God, he's in love with you.

You stood by his van with your arms crossed. The front of your shoe kicking a nearby pebble. Eddie rushed over to you.

"You're late," you said.

He looked down at his watch. 4:10, he read. "I'm sorry."

"For what? Being late or....?"

"Everything," he paused. "You know when you told me that thing about me liking Chrissy I knew I messed up."

You shifted your weight to one side. "How so?"

"Because, I thought it was so obvious how I felt for you. I thought people saw it from miles away, but I guess showing my feelings is just another thing I fail at doing in my life."

You frowned.

He continued, "I hope you know now that I've always liked you." He bit his lip. "Man, I think I liked you before I even knew I liked you." He chuckled. "I was scared though, even if you said you felt the same I was scared you'd back away once you realized what a freak I am. I'm not someone who can give you everything you've wanted... but I would try."

You smiled a little. "Eddie, I don't like you because I thought you could give me the world, I like you because-as corny as this sounds-you are my world. I never believed in the how soulmates thing, but ever since I met you, it was always you. And I have to admit I wanted you to be my admirer so bad, but my life-it never seems to go easy on me, so the first thing I thought was that it was a joke, and then when it seemed to be becoming more real and Robin of all people was telling me how she thought it was you... I didn't want to give into the hope. Then you told me it wasn't you, and I didn't have any proof to convince me otherwise."

"I'm your world?" he asked, breathless.

"That's all you got from that?" you joked.

He shook his head. "No, but it definitely was the part that lingered the longest."

"Eddie, I-"

"I meant every word I wrote, and it wasn't even half the things I've wanted to say to you for so long. Because there's so much I want to tell you, and we have so much to make up for, but that's only if you want me."

You opened your mouth then closed it. Finally you spoke, "Where do we start?"

He broke out into a large smile. "You mean it?"

"Yeah," you reply, mimicking his smile.

The two of you stared at each other for a few moments.

"You can kiss me now, if you want," you said.

"Oh, thank fuck," he breathed.

He leaned in, cupping your jaw to bring you lips to meet his. You breathed him in immediately, the smell of cigarettes, cologne, and a hint of mint clogging your nose. Delightfully suffocating you in his warmth. You wrapped your arms around his neck to bring him closer as the two of your fell in a fast rhythm, making up for at least some of the lost time, then slow and steady to savor the moment as this was something neither one of them every wanted to forget. Ever.

A note fluttered out of your locker.

"Another one?" Robin groaned.

You picked it up with a lovesick smile plastered onto your face. "Don't sound so annoyed Robin, you should be pleased."

"Just because I'm always right, doesn't mean I like to be always right."

"You're right. You love to be always right," you quip back, unfolding the piece of paper.

Morning sweetheart, just wanted to say I love you and I can't wait for our date tonight. - Love, Eddie.

"Why can't he just tell you that when he see's you at school today?" Robin asked.

You dreamily sigh. "He wanted to keep the memory of how we got together alive, so we decided to continue writing each other notes. It doesn't matter what we say in them." You eyes met Eddie's figure a few feet away from you. "It's the thought that matters." With that last word to Robin, you run toward Eddie who immediately picks you up and spins you around.

"How are you doing today?" he asked.

"Good!" you chirped. "I got your note."

"Oh, did you? Have any thoughts about it? Responses?"

"A few..." You smiled, and pecked his cheek, making him blush profusely. "I love you too."

[secretwritingspot]

Too Much (Take Me Home)

Pairing: OPLA Sanji x Reader

Rating/Content Warnings: okay so I have no idea how to rate this. Like this is definitely not PG but it's also not really nsfw?? Honestly I'd recommend just reading the summary and deciding for yourself from there.

Summary: Reader is a sub who, due to the nature of y'know like being on a pirate ship constantly has not had a single chance to relax in weeks, especially since they don't really know any of their crewmates like that. Sanji steps in to save the day.

Disclaimer(s): so funny story - this is the single kinkiest thing I've written for this blog. And yet. It is also the least sexual thing I've written for this blog, that being not sexual at all. This is purely mentally-ill wish fulfillment emotional hurt-comfort d/s fluff. None of those words are in the bible but we persist nonetheless. A lot of d/s themes but like soft d/s if that makes sense, undernegotiated kink (there's definitely communication and it's p healthy but they're both idiots your honor), some petplay if you squint? Like not really but reader is on their knees and he calls them puppy a few times so do with that what you will.

There's a surprising amount of paperwork that comes with being the ship's chef.

One would think Sanji was always on his feet, whipping up something new- and yet here he is, late at night, sitting at a table that feels nautical miles away from where he really wants to be, the galley. But this was a part of the job- to catalogue ingredients, new recipes, what he could make and on what day for their supplies to last until the next town.

He's used to it being a solitary job, but then there's footsteps and a knock at the doorframe of his room and you walk in, shy uncertainty in your voice.

"...Sanji?"

You weren't sure about this, about any of this. But you were exhausted in a way that sleep couldn't fix, and it was obvious to you as to why.

You were a sub. There, you admitted it, got that embarrassing information out of the way as quickly as possible.

You - strong, strategic, stoic you - had been spinning out for the last few days. It had been too long since you'd been able to go under, since you'd joined the strawhats, to be precise, and it was starting to wear on you.

There was only so long you could go like this, tough and detached, protecting everyone else, taking care of the rest of your crew before yourself. It was constant, on the Merry. You really should've seen that coming with it being a pirate ship and all, but you felt like you had no room to breathe. Wake up, save the day, plan, eat and sleep only to keep your energy up to do it again the next day. You were always on, always performing the most capable version of yourself, and it was starting to wear you thin.

Sanji, for all his care and attention, hadn't seemed to notice. Even now, when you'd come to him like this. For that, a part of you was thankful.

He can't even hope to hide the way his face lights up when you walk in, quickly grabbing a towel next to him and wiping off his hands on instinct, like there should be oil or cooking wine or flour on them. There isn't, but other times there is. And there will be again, eventually. Better safe than sorry, he supposes.

"What could possibly bring such an angel down to me so late?"

He questions with a charming smile, cocking his head at you fondly. You roll your eyes at his immediate antics, blushing.

"Ah. Straight to business, huh?"

You laugh nervously, looking away and scratching the back of your neck with a sheepish blush.

"...can I stay with you? While you work?"

He squints at you curiously and then nods, smile blooming on his face the way it always does when you're around. For such a simple request, he doesn't know why you look so embarrassed.

Sure, the signs of embarrassment aren't as obvious on someone like you- but he can still see them. The way your eyes avoid his, the slight awkwardness in your stance as you shift on your feet.

"Of course, love. I'd never turn down your wonderful company."

You take a relieved breath and nod, looking down. For a moment you stand still, trying to make your feet move. Is this really such a good idea?

You take the leap before you can second guess yourself, walking over to where he sits at the desk. You pass the other seats and he squints curiously, having expected you to take one. Instead, you come straight to his, sinking down to your knees next to him and sitting back on your heels, resting your head on the side of his thigh.

Oh.

Oh, wow.

His eyes widen when you settle on the floor next to him, his face a pink hue as he looks down at you. Still, he didn't move. Instead, he gently brushes some of your hair back, looking at you with confusion.

"Are you...what are you doing, love?"

You swallow thickly, blinking your eyes back open to look up at him pleadingly, face pink.

"...can I stay here? I- I'll explain if you want, I promise, just...please."

He chuckles, an intrigued little smile gracing his features as he looks down at you nods. "Go ahead, explain. You can stay here as long as you'd like, darling."

"I need..."

You start to speak before backing up your explanation, embarrassment showing in the way your speech jumps back and forth between thoughts.

"I've been exhausted, recently. I'm sleeping fine, I just...sometimes I need to- to relax a certain, uh- a certain way. And since we've been on the ship, I haven't been able to, uh..."

You squeeze your eyes shut with embarrassment, taking a deep breath and turning to press your face against his thigh to hide your blush.

"...subspace. I'm- I'm a sub. And I haven't been able to go into subspace for a while, and I know this is a lot to ask you and I'm sorry, I just- I need to be like this for a while, please."

Immediately, your behavior starts to make sense. It would be hard to be a sub on a crew like this, constantly having to fight and stay in control. You likely haven't had the chance to submit to anyone in ages, if only for safety reasons. After all, you're all wanted. But with the natural way you dropped to your knees below him, put your head on his thigh like second nature, it all clicks.

He looks at you for a moment and blinks, his expression unreadable.

"...I think I understand what you mean. You want to be good for me, yes? I don't mind that, you know. You're quite pretty like this." He gently drags the back of his hand across your face with a smile before adding, almost as an afterthought, "Sweet thing."

You shiver at his words and nod in confirmation, letting your head fall back to the side to rest against his thigh.

This is...it's the last thing he'd expect from you, really. You're so tough and capable and independent, so the fact that you're a sub? The more he thinks about it the more it makes him blush- that someone like you was even capable of submitting, let alone craved it, let alone again would come to him, pleading for him to let you kneel at his feet for a while as he works. He gently runs a hand along your back, the corner of his mouth twitching as he smirks.

"I want you to stay like this until you're satisfied, alright darling?" He smiles and takes a look back at the paperwork on the table "...Are you comfortable there?"

You nod, heart fluttering when he says he wants you to stay like this until you feel better. It's sweet and gentle and so very Sanji, but at the same time, it sounds almost like an instruction. Like a command. It makes your cheeks flush and your mind stop whirring for a second in a way you'd missed so badly from when friends or partners who knew about your submissiveness back on land would put you under. The comfort of not having to think of anything besides doing what you're told- being good, always being good. You'd missed this.

"I need you to relax for me, okay? Just...focus on enjoying yourself, yeah? I have to get this work done, so I'm counting on you to stay right here. Can you do that for me?"

You nod almost immediately and he grins at the obedience, going back to his work with a satisfaction mirrored in you.

Something to do. A task. Something to be good at, good enough to make him proud. It settles your mind as you lean your head against him, the slight twinge of pain from kneeling on the wooden floor grounding you pleasantly.

He could get used to this, he thinks- you sitting at his feet next to him like a puppy, one of his hands scratching through your hair absentmindedly as he works through his paperwork and supply numbers. He watches you out of the corner of his eye as he works, the sound of parchment paper a pleasant constant. Your breathing was also rather soothing, a nice background to his quiet humming as he writes. He feels as though he could listen to it all night and never grow tired of it.

He makes a mental note of how each different touch effects you- cataloging your reactions, what you like, what seems to make your mind dissolve. He finds a particular sweet spot behind your ears that leaves you a shivering puddle when he scratches softly with his nails, a spot at the crown of your head that makes you purr, that any light touch closer to your neck provokes a wobbly, ticklish smile but that you don't make any move to stop him. You seem completely zoned out, dazed and pliant and warm under his fingers.

A minute passes like that, then five, then ten. He looks back down to check on you and feels his heart stall in his chest.

"Oh, darling..." He whispers softly, blushing at the sight of you. Hazy and dazed with near-reverence in your eyes. He stops writing, setting down the pen and reaching down to lift your chin up, looking you directly in the eyes.

"Look at me. Please."

You perch your chin on his thigh obediently to look up at him from your position on the floor. It's the most relaxed he's ever seen you- shoulders dropped like a tremendous weight's been lifted from you, limbs like lead as doe eyes blink up at him blearily, expression glazed-over and vulnerable and soft, softer than he thought you were capable of.

You were a tremendous warrior, someone feared across the seas, and yet your head was on his thigh, sitting at his feet below him.

You, who could kill him in a fraction of a second if you wanted.

He sighs, a little breathless. He's so tempted to lean down and kiss you, but he shakes his head slowly. Not now, not yet. There's something else he needs to do first.

His hand runs through your hair as he looks into your eyes almost like a nurse would with a concussed patient, checking up on you to make sure you're okay.

"Can you speak? It doesn't have to be a lot, just...say something for me, love."

"C'n speak."

You answer softly, obedient nearly to a fault, your usually confident voice gone soft and mumbly. It's perfect. Christ, all of it is perfect.

"'verything's just kinda...fuzzy right now. 's okay, it's nice."

His eyes are glued to you as his hand gently runs through your hair, scratching behind your ear. There's something on his mind, something he can't quite place or figure out yet.

"You look so beautiful right now." He admits gently, his voice still a low whisper. "Can you tell me why- why you're like this?"

Well, wasn't that a hell of a question? Why are you - always that emphasis in your head, though he doesn't mean it like that - of all people, why are you?

A few moments pass before you say anything. You don't really know what you would say, not until it's already coming out of your mouth.

"...cause 'm not allowed to be."

It's the only answer you can think of when you can finally convince yourself to speak.

"I- I have to know everything. All the time. Be in charge and make the tough decisions and stay on top of everything and make sure everyone's okay-"

The words come slowly at first, but the longer you speak the quicker they spill out, rambling like it's something that's been festering for weeks that you desperately need to get off your chest.

You cut yourself off with a deep breath when you realize the breakneck speed with which you're ranting, simplifying your answer down to it's most basic terms.

"...I don't get to be weak."

He can't help but feel his breath catch at that reply. "I don't get to", like it's something you want but aren't allowed. He can so easily see that side of you now that you mentioned it, but he'd always just ignored it. It seemed inconsequential. Like that part just...wasn't you.

It strikes him then that that was probably on purpose, on your part. You wanted them to disregard it.

But the more he thinks about it, the more he recontectualizes all your stress, all the moments of you snapping at the crew over little slights, the more curious he gets as to how and why you got to be like this in the first place.

"There isn't anything weak about this." he pushes back sternly as soon as he can get his voice to work. "This is...this is the most courageous thing I could imagine. I'm so proud of you."

The words hit you like a brick and you close your eyes, taking a shaky breath as they play on repeat in your head.

"I'm so proud of you."

You can feel yourself crumbling at his affection, the voracity of his care. How adamant he is about understanding that sometimes you just needed to be below someone else.

He cups your cheek in his hand softly, angling your face to look up at him. The more you let your guard down, the warmer his chest feels looking at you. He'd never seen you open up this much, it makes his heart ache. He smiles at the sight of you looking up at him so prettily, lightly tapping the tip of your nose.

"...there you are."

The words are barely a whisper, full of pride and admiration and pleasant disbelief. It's a shame how much you try to prove your strength, your resilience when there isn't a reason for it.

You'd always been enough for him. Always been strong enough, tough enough, useful enough. Always, always, always.

You'd never needed to be anything more than who you were, and getting to see you like this...it's like he's seeing you for the first time all over again.

"It's an honor to finally meet you."

All you can manage is a soft huff of breath, his words knocking the breath from your lungs. It's almost a sob, except that there are no tears. You have no idea why. Or why you almost sobbed in the first place. Why are there no tears?

"It's an honor to finally meet you."

The words cut through you like water. He still wants you? Even like this- emotionally stunted, a needy mess, pathetic and fragile and shaking?

"The way you are right now is nothing short of beautiful. Everything about you is lovely. It's...it isn't easy letting go like this, is it?" He muses, a hand resting on your hair, his thumb running along your face.

You sniffle quietly and blink back tears, nodding your head. It's progress even getting you to agree.

He knows you aren't upset by his words and so your unshed tears don't bother him. Knows that you aren't used to this, aren't going to be good at believing or accepting it immediately. He knows it'll take time to get to a place where words like that don't phase you anymore. So for now, your agreement is more than enough.

"...can we stay here for a while? Please?"

You break through his train of thought with a cautious whisper, voice small. A surge of pride shoots through him at your words, so fucking proud. If agreeing with his words is difficult, asking for what you want is worse. It's a hell of a first step.

"Of course we can. How long do you want to be like this, sweetheart?"

Ah. And there's the problem, isn't it? The "what do you want?" Really and truly, you have no idea.

"I don't mind much, it's..."

You trail off softly, hiding your face against his thigh in embarrassment as your blush spreads to the tips of your ears.

"...'s however long you want me to stay. It...it helps, letting you decide things for me."

The admission is a shy one, but it's not like it's something he couldn't've seen coming. It makes sense that instructions and praise would go hand in hand to make someone like you feel safe, small, protected.

"...I don't want you to move, okay?" He finally decides, lifting his hand from your hair to brush it behind your ear, fingernails scratching gently.

"Just let me take care of you for a while."

You take a deep breath at his words like the air's cleared for the first time in decades, finally having something to ground yourself on.

He makes a note of that in his head, too- you like a sense of order, when he makes decisions for you or gives you instructions to follow. Something simple that you can focus on even in your dazed, vulnerable state of mind, a task you can accomplish.

His hand continues to run through your hair gently, thumb making little figure 8's at the crown of your head.

"Do you want me to hold you? Or do you prefer being on your knees?"

He doesn't look at you when he asks, pen scratching away at his charts with his eyes on the table. Somehow, that helps- the idea that he's still working, that you're not too inconvenient of a distraction.

The simple choice you're given between two options makes everything feel easy and calm and hazy, and your voice is quiet when you answer.

"On- on my knees. Makes me feel more- more..."

You trail off, trying to explain but unable to find the words.

"More vulnerable." He finishes for you, smiling as it finally clicks. A position of submission, giving up your power to him.

Undoubtably, you're more vulnerable on your knees. You'd typically never let anyone near you in this state, not since you joined the strawhats, but with him, it feels...safe.

"I like it too." He admits, his hand still on you as his voice slowly trails off.

Your features smooth out in relief at his understanding and you nod, leaning into him and nuzzling his thigh for a moment to show your appreciation.

He has to look away for a moment, as seeing you nuzzle against him triggers an almost visceral reaction he wasn't expecting. His face flushes a bit more, a small smile brightening face as he leans in his chair, his expression adoring as he looks down at you. He reaches out for your ear, scratching gently at it with his fingernail.

You're so soft like this he swears he might fall in love.

"...can we do this more often, when you want to relax?"

Your eyes widen with a surprised blush at all the question as your brain shorts out for a moment.

He really...he's really willing to make this a regular thing? He isn't just doing this to humor you? It seems almost impossible to believe that this isn't some kind of weird burden you'd pushed onto him.

"...yeah. I'd- 'd like that."

You mumble breathlessly, clearing your throat as you look down.

He's already looking for another command, a simple task he can praise you for. Something about telling you what to do - you, who could slit his throat in an instant - he's quickly figuring out that he likes it. Quite a bit, actually.

He thinks back to the little things he's noticed about you- you prefer standing with your back to walls, facing the exit of whatever room you're in. You can only fall asleep when someone else on the crew is still awake. You're always chewing toothpicks, sucking on the end of your pen-

Wait.

Do you have an- could he- maybe...?

He hums in thought, grin spreading wider as he looks down at you once more. Gently, he lifts your chin so you're looking directly at him.

"Open your mouth," He instructs softly, almost in a whisper. Curious.

A soft blush blossoms across your ears but other than that you don't question it, far enough into subspace that all that matters is following instructions, being good. You don't even think before parting your lips obediently, looking up at him with those pretty doe eyes. Like he hung the moon and the stars in the sky.

Bingo.

It was an oral fixation, your constant need to suck on a toothpick or the end of your pen. He couldn't fully understand, but he could relate- he always felt safer with a cigarette in his mouth.

He gently pushes his thumb in your mouth, taking a deep breath as he waits for your reaction to the audacious move. You wanted him to make you feel small, safe, vulnerable. He's more than happy to do that for you.

At your service, now and always.

Your blush spreads out to your cheeks and your eyes widen a fraction in surprise, but as soon as you manage to process that he really just did that, you close your lips gently around his thumb, eyes glazing over as you look up at him for approval.

You're so beautiful when you're like this, all raw and vulnerable and desperate to be good. He hums, eyes glued to you with a loving gaze as he takes in just how stunning you are in this moment.

"Submission suits you." He praises softly, his voice almost a whisper. "You're so...so sweet like this. So lovely when you don't think so much, puppy."

The last word is meant jokingly, gently poking fun at the way you're kneeling next to him, head on his thigh. Your reaction, though...that throws him. The way you squeeze your eyes closed and your blush darkens to a pure pink when he calls you "puppy", the way he can feel you whine around his thumb at the term as you melt, shoulders slumping- and that's certainly interesting, isn't it?

"Aww, puppy likes that, doesn't she?"

He can't help but smile as he takes his thumb out of your mouth for a moment before pushing two fingers in instead. Your cheeks flush when he does so, those puppy dog eyes glancing back at him with so much emotion it's almost overwhelming. The name is fitting, he supposes.

You flush further with embarrassment, though you know it makes no logical sense. Your mind doesn't seem to want to quiet itself, echoing judgements of your current position- weak, needy, pathetic. The shy feeling of poorly restrained shame claws up your chest even as you try to dismiss it. You shouldn't feel so embarrassed by this- Sanji clearly isn't bothered by it, doesn't think it's odd, hell, if anything he seems like he's enjoying himself. Yet you, brain all tied up in knots, can't seem to look at him.

So instead you try to focus on other things, like the comforting contrast of the warmth from his fingers and the cool metal of his ring pressing down softly on your tongue.

He can sense the embarrassment from you, though he can't understand it. He'd seen you at your worst, and this certainly wasn't it.

"...there's nothing wrong with allowing someone to take care of you, you know. I actually quite like seeing you like this." He says, the words falling out of his mouth before he even thinks.

Almost as if they'd been waiting to come out this whole time.

His reassurance only makes your blush intensify, but this time it's not bad.

It isn't shame, not really. It's more pleasantly flustering. If embarrassment were a spectrum, this...feeling would fall on the 'good' end of it.

Sensing it's a vulnerable topic, he lets the reassurance hang, not giving you enough time to think about it before changing the subject with a fond, knowing chuckle.

"You like the ring, don't you?"

He doesn't say, 'it gives you something to focus on so your mind doesn't wander too far' or 'the temperature brings you back down and grounds you here away from those nasty thoughts', but you both know that's what it is.

There's something warm in the way he so nonchalantly reveals that he's been cataloging every little detail of your reactions- the spot behind your ears, the fact you like being called 'puppy', and now the fact that you like the feeling of his ring pressing down on your tongue. Your mind is in enough of a submissive haze that you can't bring yourself to lie to him, instead nodding your head in agreement.

A small, fond smile graces his lips as his thumb moves up to your lower lip, gently prodding at your chin to bring your attention back to him.

"You can take breaks if you want. I know the ring's cold."

His voice is a warm, intimate whisper, eyes watching every movement you make, every twitch and hum catalogued in his mind.

The care in it makes your heart feel warm and you keep his fingers where they are, nipping lightly at him for a moment as if to let him know without words that you're enjoying this, that you don't need a break. It's so fucking cute his heart melts.

He can't help himself any more, pulling his fingers from your mouth. You nearly whine at the loss but then - then, oh, then - he presses a small, soft kiss to your lips and the whole world falls apart, his lips pressed tenderly to you as if you're something so much more than the sum of your parts. Your mind works on overdrive- it's such pure affection and approval and he kissed you, so that means you must've been good, right? That he was proud?

Little do you know, he's just as in awe as you are. In awe that you're really here with him, like this. That you'd ever let him do this. Everything about you is special to him, special because it's yours. Just like your eyes, the sound of your voice, the heart beating erratically in your chest. Before he can think about it he's pulling his ring off his finger, wiping the remains of your spit from it, and sliding it gently on your ring finger.

You cock your head up at him and squint in confusion and he smiles, voice soft like he's afraid anything stronger than a whisper would break the moment he's worked so hard for.

"Keep it, puppy. Then, next time you...need my help like this, you can give it back to me. Yeah?"

He punctuates his words by lifting your hand up like it's precious, placing a feather-light kiss to your knuckles.

The promise sparks a warmth in your chest, the casual mention of "next time" like there's no doubt at all in his mind that there will be a next time, the way he touches you like you're fragile, stares at you with pink cheeks and blown eyes like you're the sun and the moon and all the pinpoints in the night sky.

You should've jumped overboard when you had the chance, you think, because you've ended up drowning either way.

Eventually you can convince your muscles to work enough to nod, face blooming in fireworks of pink and orange and red as your words come back to you, though your voice is still small and hazy and breathless.

"...yeah, okay. Next time."

[lesbianrobin]

lesbianrobin fic scraps #5: you construct intricate rituals to be lifted by other men

"You do know that you have curly hair, right?"

"Uh, yeah," Eddie says, yanking a brush through his hair and wincing at the ripping sound.

"So you're destroying it on purpose? It's, like, a metal thing?"

"Huh?"

"Do you even use conditioner?"

"I didn't invite you here so you could heckle me in my own home."

Steve leans against the front door, all casual like he hangs out in Eddie's living room all the time. "You didn't invite me here, I came to pick you up and you weren't ready. Also, I'm not heckling," Steve says, "Just observing. You don't, do you?"

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do,” Eddie says, “It’s called two-in-one shampoo and conditioner, asshole.”

Steve lets out a noise that's halfway between a groan and a gasp. "You're joking."

Eddie raises an eyebrow.

"Oh my God, you're not joking," Steve mumbles, eyes wide.

Eddie drops his hairbrush on the coffee table and grabs his keys. "Didn't realize I needed perfect hair to ride in Steve Harrington's fancy car."

"No, but you do need shoes."

Eddie looks down.

"Oh," he says. "Yeah, that would probably help."

-

"After this party, you and I are going to the store and getting you some real shampoo and conditioner."

Eddie's still tying his right shoe, seated in the passenger seat of Steve's BMW. "I shudder to think what overpriced garbage you consider the baseline for hair-care products."

“Whine any more and I'm buying you leave-in, too.”

“What's leave-in?”

“Jesus Christ,” Steve says mournfully, looking up at the sky as if asking the man himself to lend some strength before starting his car.

Eddie observes as they pull out of the trailer park. “So, O Great Master of the haircare arts, how did you acquire such knowledge on the demands of curly hair?”

“Did you miss when people called me 'The Hair' for four years?”

“Your hair isn’t curly.”

“What, I’m not allowed to know things?” Steve sounds agitated, and he looks straight ahead at the road, not even glancing at Eddie a little bit as he speaks.

"...Oh, there's a story here!"

"No, there's not."

"The lady doth protest too much," Eddie sings, leaning close to Steve's face. Steve glances at him, though he looks back to the road quickly, shoving Eddie back toward his own seat without looking at him.

"Don't laugh."

"I won't, swear on my life," Eddie lies.

"Alright… so, you know Lucas."

"Yes."

Steve sighs. "Well, you've seen me fuck with Dustin's hair, right? I do it to Max and even Mike sometimes if he doesn't look like he'll bite me, and Lucas, he used to have, like, shorter hair, so you could kinda give him a noogie and it was, like, whatever, but now he's got the flat top and I didn't know if I could, like, touch it without messing it up, yknow? So I went to the library—"

Eddie bursts into laughter.

Steve slams his hands on the steering wheel. "I knew you were gonna laugh!"

"No," Eddie struggles to say between laughs, "No, oh my God, that's the cutest thing I've ever—"

"I fucking hate you," Steve sulks.

He can just see it, is the thing, Steve walking into the library and ringing the little bell and stumbling over his words as he asks the librarian for help finding books about hair. Squinting at the spines of books, checking out a few, carrying them back to his car and dumping them in the passenger seat with a satisfied grin.

"I had to help Dustin with his hair for the Snow Ball, too, and his is curly, so you know, I started with him back then, and then Lucas, and then I just kept reading, and it was…" Steve shrugs. "I don't know, it was cool."

Steve says it nonchalantly. As if that isn't the most precious thing on planet Earth.

"You're so cute," Eddie says, and Steve rolls his eyes, but there's something there, Eddie thinks, something soft and fond in the slight curve of his lips. There's something.

-

This isn't how Eddie had imagined getting Steve's hands on him, but he really can't be mad about it.

“Alright, alright,” Dustin chants, as Robin hoots and whistles her support.

Someone begins pounding on the table repeatedly.

“Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve!” Lucas begins the chant and Max joins in, followed shortly by Robin and Dustin. Mike looms over Eddie with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

“No pressure, Harrington,” Eddie says.

“Man, shut up,” Steve replies, and starts to push.

Astoundingly, Eddie rises.

“Oh, shit,” he says, tensing his body as much as he can. Steve would never drop him, but Eddie might not have the abdominal muscles required to keep himself from toppling off to the side.

The Steve chant gets louder and faster, more hands pounding on tables and feet stomping on the floor. Mike is clearly trying so hard to look unimpressed, but his eyes just keep getting wider as Eddie rises higher and finally reaches the peak, Steve's arms extended as much as they can without locking out, and he holds Eddie aloft for a few seconds, and Eddie wishes more than anything that he could see Steve's face right now. Steve begins to lower him down, and god, this was all over too fast, and Eddie's heart is pounding like crazy, so loud in his ears that it almost drowns out all of their friends' raucous screaming.

“What in the hell is all this racket?”

Eddie startles, almost falling, but Steve digs his fingers in, and holy shit Eddie's going up again, and then he's coming down, and how is Steve this strong?

“Two,” Dustin calls out, “Holy shit!”

As Eddie goes up again, Nancy explains, “Steve said he can bench, like, two hundred pounds or something, and Eddie said he bet Steve couldn't even lift him and he's about one-seventy—”

“One-sixty, Wheeler,” Eddie calls out, and then he's coming back down again and Steve says, “I don't know, feels more like one-eighty.”

“Oh, screw you.”

“Three!”

"...Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve..!"

“Huh.” Mike's dad almost sounds impressed. “Well, keep it down, your sister's trying to do her homework.”

Mike snorts. “Holly's homework is coloring.”

“Hey, don’t knock coloring,” Eddie says. It’s hard to sound normal, with Steve’s hands pressing into his back and thighs, but he’s pretty sure he’s managing it. “It’s a noble and honored tradition, Wheeler, one of humanity’s oldest pursuits. Art is—”

“Four!”

"...Steve, Steve..!"

“—what makes life worth living, after all.”

Steve grunts with effort, making Eddie’s chest seize up, but he rises for the fifth time. Someone says, “Jesus Christ,” but Eddie’s not sure who.

“Mike, maybe you could ask Steve here to take you to the gym sometime.”

“Dad,” Mike groans.

“And five!” Dustin begins to clap as soon as Eddie’s back down. The hooligans abandon pounding on the table to cheer, hooting and hollering with all of the enthusiasm of an adventuring party confronted with a chest full of riches.

“Alright, get off of me,” Steve grunts, and Eddie acquiesces, rolling to the side and leaping to his feet. God, he could scale a mountain right now. Eddie turns to look at Steve, and holy shit, actually, he could not scale a mountain right now, because his heart would explode. Lying on his back, face slightly flushed, arms splayed out and hair messy, Steve looks utterly obscene. To be fair, Steve always looks obscene, but Eddie can still feel the phantoms of Steve's hands pressing against him, and he holds a hand out without thinking. Steve takes it, leveraging himself up in a way that nearly has Eddie toppling down onto the floor next to him, but they manage to both stay standing.

"What do I owe you, again?"

"You guys forgot to actually bet anything," Dustin says helpfully.

"Shit," Steve sighs, letting go of Eddie's hand to put his hands on his hips.

"Maybe you could get me that hair crap you were talking about earlier."

"I win, and my reward is that I get to buy you things?"

"Yep," Eddie says. He can feel himself smiling, so wide that it's almost embarrassing, but he can't help it. Steve is smiling, too.

Steve eyes his hair, and apparently he's distressed enough by what he sees to sigh and say, "Shit, alright. But you have to use it exactly how I show you, asshole."

Eddie puts one hand on his heart and the other in the air. "Scout's honor."

[bella-rose29]

Puppy

Request from anon:

hiiiii, first I wanna say that I enjoy reading your works, they're wonderful. <3

Now, I've seen you post about wanting Lockwood requests and I might have an idea. Lockwood and reader are in long-term relationship (they know each other since childhood, the reader is talentless but Lockwood comes to her when he need to relax/help with a plan/whatever), and no-one knows about the relationship besides them. And after some rough case when kipss crew had to help out, Lockwood and co and kipss crew are drinking in a bar to ease up (the reader works in the bar as part-time job) and in the drunken state Lockwood is even more confident than normally so someone makes a bet with him that he won be able to get a kiss out of the bartender (the reader) by the end of the night... I don't really know what after but maybe you'll be able to find a fluffy/funny ending to it?

I hope I'm making sense.

Have a nice day! :)))

First of all, thank you for the love anon, and I hope you have a nice day too!! <3

Second, I am completely in love with this idea (it's totally something Lockwood would do let's face it) and I had so much fun writing this!!!

Hopefully this lives up to expectations my lovely <3

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: descriptions of injury, fight scenes (with dead people), swearing, suggestive comments, drunken activities (mostly Lockwood), everybody is over 18 so they can legally drink in the pub

Tag list: @anathemaloren, @augustisintheair, @avdiobliss, @dangelnleif, @el-de-phi, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @karensirkobabes, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @ran23sblog, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @wandamaximoffbae, @whenselenefallsinlove, @wordsarelife

As always, if you'd like to be added to/removed from the tag list, let me know here <3

(not my gif <3)

Lockwood was tired.

He'd barely slept the night before, despite not having a case, and he'd barely eaten the whole day. It was nearing 7pm now, the sun having set over an hour ago and leaving the city in almost darkness. There would be no sleeping tonight, either, since he and his company had to tackle a Type One in an old lady's house. All Lockwood really wanted was to see her, and have her tell him stories about her day until he fell asleep in her arms, but he couldn't do that right now. Hopefully this would be done quickly, this job, so that he could get to hers before she went to sleep.

Lockwood and Co had been in the kitchen of Mrs Lovey's house for a while now, cups of tea left empty on the counter and the packet of biscuits finished off. Initial readings had been low, giving Lockwood hope that they really would be done quickly, and they'd made note of the likely places for the Source.

"Lockwood? You're staring into space again. You alright?"

He blinked back into reality, pulling himself out of his thoughts of warm rooms and soft kisses.

"Huh? Oh, right. Yeah, I'm alright. Just surprised this Visitor hasn't turned up yet." He checked his watch. "Time for another reading in the living room?"

George nodded. "I'll go first."

The three of them headed in, rapiers at the ready.

"One degree. And a feeling of unease. It's definitely getting close to being here."

"Never mind close, I can see it," Lockwood whispered, taking up a defensive position.

"Yeah, I can hear it, too. Sounds like someone crying. I don't think this is a Type One either," Lucy added, and Lockwood couldn't help but agree.

"Any murders or anything happen here, George?"

"Not that I'm aware of, and I researched for days for this one. Didn't find anything out of the ordinary."

"Male or female, Luce? The voice."

"Uh, hang on, shut up a minute." She closed her eyes, focusing her efforts on Listening. "Male. Definitely. Sounds older, and like he's got some sort of trauma."

"Right. George, you figure out where the Source is. Lucy and I will watch it, make sure it doesn't go for you. Can either of you see it yet?"

"Not really. There's a sort of shiny mist over by that armchair, though," George said, pointing in the direction of the ratty old seat.

"Yeah, okay. That's where it is. Lucy?"

"Same as George. Getting stronger though. Maybe the chair is the Source?"

"Could be. George?"

"You're sure you've got my back, yeah? Because I really can't see it that well right now and I'd rather not die tonight."

"We're sure. Go on, have a poke around."

George did so, hesitantly getting closer to the chair and holding the scanner up. "Yeah, the Source is here somewhere." He prodded the side, and Lockwood saw Lucy flinch.

"It didn't like that at all. God, that was awful. Wait, George, don't-"

She slammed her hands over her ears, trying to block out the scream that even Lockwood could hear now.

"George, get the net," he cried out, rapier moving swiftly as the Visitor grew brighter and aimed for the head of the company.

"Incredibly clear visual, Lockwood! Lucy was right, it's definitely a Type Two!"

"GET THE NET, GEORGE!"

Lockwood had been backed into a corner, arm starting to ache from the continuous motion of the rapier holding off the ghost in front of him. Lucy had recovered (just about), and was picking up her rapier to help him. Sensing a second opponent, the ghost turned, and targeted Lockwood's coworker. The two of them spent the next few minutes sending the Visitor between them while George repeatedly chucked the net over various parts of the chair, expression growing more frantic each time.

"George, what's going on?!" Lucy shouted.

"It's not working! I don't think the chair is the Source! Or if it is, it's inside the chair!"

"Then get searching! Rip the whole bloody thing apart if you have to! But get on with it!" Lockwood gritted his teeth, fighting off the cold unease he felt flooding through his body. He thought of her, and her smile, and her laugh, and pushed back twice as hard against the Visitor. At some point he'd injured himself, the cut on his upper left arm bleeding slightly, but he couldn't think about that until the ghost was dealt with.

"GOT IT!" George shouted, voice triumphant. He slung the net around the object he'd found, and all at once the living room went silent apart from the heavy breaths of the three agents. The ghost disappeared, and the temperature started rising. George sat back on his knees and held the swaddled object up, bits of foam stuffing caught in his curls. "Knife, it's got blood on it. I'd wager she killed her husband. There was a cut already made in the back, made it easier to find." He looked vaguely manic, what with his wide grin and foam-covered hair, but Lockwood couldn't deny his gratitude for his weird friend.

"I reckon we need to have a chat with DEPRAC, then. Mrs. Lovey clearly doesn't live up to her name," he replied, smile matching George's.

~~~

Half an hour later, Lockwood was on his way to hers. He'd left George and Lucy in the taxi, telling them he had something to sort out and he'd be back later, and to not wait up for him, and had caught his own cab to his destination.

He dragged himself up the front steps, knocking on the front door, and couldn't help the smile that appeared when it swung open to reveal his girlfriend.

"Jesus Christ, you look like shit."

"Charming as ever, love. Can I come in?"

Y/n stepped to the side, giving him a peck on the lips as he went past. "Shoes off, then up to my room. I'll be there in a sec. Gimme your coat, I'll hang it up for you."

He pulled himself up to her room, trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to wake her siblings, and collapsed on her bed.

"Look at you. You're like a puppy, all cute and cuddly."

He lifted his head as Y/n walked in, closing the door behind her with a soft click as she balanced a tray in her hands.

"Jacket off. And shirt."

"If you wanted me naked you could have just said so, darling." He wriggled his eyebrows suggestively, revelling in her blush.

"Shut up and strip, Anthony," she mumbled.

He complied, smirk turning into smile as he saw the medical supplies on the tray, right next to a pot of tea and a plate of biscuits.

"What even happened?"

"Honestly? No clue. Type One turned out to be a Type Two murder victim though, so that was fun."

"You know, there are times I wish I had Talent. Then you come here looking like this and saying things like that and I wonder why I ever wanted it in the first place. Easy on the shirt, I think it's stuck." He'd winced trying to peel the fabric away from the wound, and Y/n immediately replaced his fingers with hers, touch gentle as she attempted to prise his shirt off. Sucking in air through her teeth as she got it off, Lockwood knew it was bad. It had been a dull throb the whole time he'd been travelling over, too exhausted to think about it more, but now that he had nothing else to think about the pain sharpened.

"This is gonna hurt, okay? I'm just gonna sterilise it, so try not to move. Three, two..." He waited for one, but before she got there, Y/n had placed the cotton wool on his arm, dabbing the alcohol on the wound. He gritted his teeth, asking her about her day. She spoke while she worked, cleaning it out and covering it in protective wrapping. Her voice distracted him, letting him lose himself in her words, and she was done before he knew it, pouring a cup of tea and offering it out to him. "Put this on," she said, passing over an old shirt of his that he left at hers specifically for times like this.

"Do you really want me to?"

"No, but if it means that when my parents inevitably walk in they don't kick you out forever, I'll live with it." He laughed slightly, placing the tea down and pulling the top on, careful not to disturb his wound.

"You know you don't have to do that, right? I'm perfectly capable of looking after my own injuries."

"I know," she shrugged, sitting down next to him on the bed. "But I don't mind. Just another excuse to be close to you, I guess."

"You don't need an excuse for that, love. You know I'll happily give you anything you like."

"Anything?"

He nodded.

"Alright," she said, leaning up to plant a kiss on his lips, breaking away when their smiles got too wide.

"I thought you were going to make me dance naked in the street or something." Her eyes went wide as she took in his words.

"Oh my god, I am totally making you do that sometime."

He groaned, unable to fight the smile on his face as she peppered his cheeks with kisses, finally pressing one to his mouth.

"Remind me why I love you?"

"Because I'm amazing, and the most incredible person ever?"

He chuckled, kissing her again. "Yeah. You are."

~~~

"Where the hell have you been, Tony? We've been waiting for you!"

"Just had some last minute things to sort out, don't get your knickers in a twist, Kipps. Oh, thanks Luce," he said, smiling at the girl as she handed him a flask of tea. He'd actually been at Y/n's, spending time with her before her shift at the pub. He'd almost been late, her parents wanting him to stay for dinner (he had politely declined, reminding them that he had a job to go to as well as their daughter), and her younger siblings wanting him to play with them. Lockwood and Y/n's parents had been friends since before either of them were born, at one point the two families living next to each other on Portland Row, and it was only the arrival of the fourth baby five years ago that had made the L/n family move. It had only been natural that Anthony and Y/n started dating, having been childhood friends, and her parents were delighted at the pairing. Unfortunately that now meant that they wanted him to spend every spare minute at their house, which more often than not made him slightly late for work.

"I'm not wearing knickers," the older boy muttered indignantly, clearly unable to come up with a good enough retort.

"Oh, are these the files? Thanks George."

"Wait, have you not even read these?" Kipps said, eyebrows rising.

"Of course I have, just not the whole compiled thing. I'm not stupid." Kipps scoffed at that.

"Yeah, sure you're not, Tony. C'mon. Hurry up and read, we're late because of you and we need to set everything up before it gets dark."

~~~

Three hours later, the two teams were close to death.

Both in the sense that they were run ragged, energy severely depleted and bodies aching, and also in that they were completely surrounded by ghosts, Type Ones and Types Twos blocking every exit. The report had said that there were only meant to be two Spectres in the whole abandoned department store, but before it had even been properly dark Lucy had heard voices crying out and shouting, and Lockwood had seen death glows so bright he'd needed his sunglasses.

"Tony, what the hell are you doing?!"

He was taking a break, eyes aching from the brightness surrounding them and arm protesting the weight of his rapier. He scanned the area, sure that Lucy would have his back for a moment, and spotted something through a gap in the Visitors.

"Lucy?"

"What?!"

"I need you to not kill me and cover me with flares."

"Why?"

"Because I'm going to run through the ghosts."

"You're WHAT?!"

"What? What's he saying?" Kipps was trying to get closer to them, rapier cutting arcs into the air and not giving him much headway.

"You're impossible, you know that?" Lucy glared at him, grabbing some flares from her belt.

"Yep. Ready?" She threw, the magnesium creating a break in the swarm of ghosts large enough for Lockwood to cut through. He made it to the other side (although a near miss from a badly aimed flare made him think that Lucy was trying to hit him and not the Visitors), trying to block out the sounds of his team mates yelling as they fought swathes of the undead. He ducked under a chair that a poltergeist had thrown, dodging the knives hurled afterwards. Skidding to a halt in front of a large iron box filled with objects, the lid hanging open, Lockwood slammed it shut, throwing a net over the top for good measure and securing the edges. Within seconds the majority of the Visitors disappeared. A few still remained, including the two poltergeists, but the number was much better.

The two teams spent the next thirty minutes finding the various Sources of the remaining ghosts, all the while trying to not get hit by the items the poltergeists were throwing, and by the end of it when Kipps suggested going to the pub, nobody disagreed.

~~~

Lockwood and Co were in the taxi on their way to the pub when George piped up.

"Why'd you agree to going to the pub with Kipps? I would have thought you'd rather eat your own foot than spend more time with him."

"I need a drink, and he said he'd buy the first round. If it's free, I'll take it. I don't really care who's buying it, even if it's Kipps."

They clambered out the taxi, Lockwood paying the driver and jogging to catch up with the other two just as they entered the pub. Spotting Kipps' team already sat down, the three of them headed over, taking seats and giving their order to the older agent. Lockwood looked around, certain he recognised the building but unsure why, when his gaze caught on the girl behind the bar.

Ah.

Of course the pub Kipps picked was the one that Y/n worked at. Lockwood had been here before, which is why he thought it was familiar, but nobody knew about his relationship with the bartender. Kipps came back with the drinks then, one of the other servers following with the rest and asking for ID. Taking his first sip, Lockwood felt himself relax a little more, happy to not be going anywhere for a while after the gruelling job earlier.

~~~

"You," Lucy pointed at him, "are so drunk right now."

"Seriously, you cannot hold your alcohol, can you Tony?"

"Don't call me Tony, you prick." It was true that Lockwood was a lightweight, and he knew it, but he grumbled about the accusation anyway. Kipps only laughed, not doing much better than his rival in terms of handling alcohol, and took another swig of his beer.

"You're probably rubbish at picking up girls, too. Y'know, you're probably rubbish at every normal guy thing."

"Shut up, I can so pick up girls." He wasn't going to let Kipps tell him he was bad at anything.

"Oh really?"

"Yep. Amazing at it."

"Bet you can't get a kiss out the bartender though."

"Which one," he said, hoping Kipps would pick the right one.

"The one in the blue top, about your age. In fact, I am so confident you'll be shit at this, I'll bet ten quid you can't do it."

"Oh you're on," Lockwood said, knowing already he'd win the bet. Kipps had unknowingly picked Lockwood's girlfriend, and this would be the easiest ten pounds of his life.

"I'll bet a tenner too. I'm looking forward to watching you fail dramatically," Kat Godwin added, smirk on her face. Bobby placed his own bet, and soon enough there was fifty quid on the line, with George and Lucy agreeing with Kipps.

"Off you go, Lockwood," Lucy smiled, giving him a pat on the back. "Try not to traumatise the poor girl."

"Oh, just you all wait," he slurred, pointing a finger at them. "This is gonna be easyyyy." He headed for the bar, confidence filling him and giving him the ability to walk a lot straighter than he would otherwise have. He leaned forward on the wooden surface, fingers drumming against it. "Heyyy," he said, smiling up at his girlfriend as he slid (unsuccessfully) onto a stool.

"Hi... you okay?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm great, and you," he wagged his finger at her, pausing for effect, "are gorgeous." He winked, and she suppressed a laugh, making him pout. "Why're you laughing? It's true!"

"Ant, honey, you are very drunk right now. Please go home," she said, pressing a hand to her mouth to stop the giggles bursting out.

"But I can't go home," he said, suddenly very serious.

"Oh really? Why's that?"

"Because I need a kiss if I'm gonna go home." He puckered up immediately, leaning forward over the bar and closing his eyes.

"Oh my god, Anthony, stop it!"

"Aw, do you not wanna kiss me?" He pouted again, and Y/n couldn't stop her laughter anymore. Lockwood sat back, crossing his arms over his chest and huffing. "Well, I'm not going away until I get a kiss from the prettiest bartender person lady that I've ever seen, so you'll have to get used to me being here."

"Okay, alright! Lemme serve this customer, yeah?" She turned away, leaving Lockwood to stew in his seat at her lack of kisses. Waiting for her to come back to him felt like an eternity, and when she came around the bar to stand next to him, he perked up, half launching himself at her. "Woah! Hold on, Ant! Jesus!" He was still sat on the stool, Y/n being only slightly taller than him despite being stood up, and he pulled her between his legs, arms wrapping around her waist. "Wait, what about your friends? I thought they didn't know?"

"Don't care, jus' wanna kiss you. There's a share of fifty pounds in it for you," he said suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows like he had a few weeks ago when she'd patched him up.

"Oh wow, you really love me, huh? Kissing me for money?" she asked sarcastically, but her eyes were warm. He nodded, dopey look on his face.

"Please? 'Cause Kipps said I can't pick up girls, and he bet money that I couldn't get a kiss out of you, and then the others bet money too, and mostly I wanna prove him wrong, but also I want the money so I can take you on the most amazing date in your life and get you ice cream."

"You are such a golden retriever puppy of a boyfriend, aren't you? Come here." She took his face in her hands, placing a few soft kisses on his mouth. His arms tightened around her waist, holding her closer to him, and Y/n had to brace a hand on the bar so that she didn't fall over from the awkward angle. When she pulled back, he chased her lips for a moment, opening his eyes slowly. His gaze was full of love, and he had a gentle smile on his face.

"I love you, Y/n/n."

"Love you too, Ant. Now get your fifty pounds and drink some water."

"Ugh, but water's boringgg," he complained, frown forming on his face. Y/n chuckled, kissing the crease between his eyebrows.

"I'll give you more than kisses when you come over on Saturday if you sober up." Lockwood stopped frowning immediately, and Y/n could practically feel the happiness radiating off of him.

"Where's the water?"

~~~

"Shit, how'd you do that, Tony?"

Lockwood shrugged. "I'm just really good at picking up girls."

"Sure, is that vodka?"

"Nope, water."

"Why have you got that?" Kipps wrinkled his nose, handing over his portion of Lockwood's winnings.

"Because she told me to drink it," he said, sipping the liquid through the straw he'd asked for (it made drinking boring things more fun, he'd told Y/n).

"Uh... okay?"

"Yeah. I feel like- hang on, Lucy, where's your tenner? Thanks. I feel like it's a little bit unfair, the bet, 'cause she is actually my girlfriend, but- no, you can't take the money back! You made a bet! No take-backs! But thanks anyway."

"So you can't pick up girls!" Kipps shouted, thinking he'd finally found something Anthony Lockwood couldn't do.

"Well technically I can, 'cause I had to pick her up in the first place to get her to be my girlfriend, and also she's not that heavy, so I can definitely pick her up if she doesn't wriggle too much. I know 'cause I've done it before."

Kipps groaned. "Wait... she just told you to drink water, so you are?"

"Yep. She's very persuasive. Basically said that if I drink it all then when I go to her house on Saturday we're gonna have sex," he said casually.

Everybody around the table choked on their drinks.

[celiciaa]

CHAPTER SIX: CHEVALIER VS GILBERT....

Battle in Rhodolite ~Crossing swords, connecting bonds~

translations are not 100% accurate. expect mistakes.

special thanks to @dark-frosted-heart for providing the story!

MINORS DNI.

The Goodwill martial arts competition 5th round — wolf’s team Gilbert vs. deer’s team Chevalier.

The most heated battle of this tournament is about to begin——

But before we knew it, the two beasts had escaped from the venue.

Gilbert: Wow….what is this? A fluffy love story that almost made me laugh.

Chevalier: ….

Carrying books instead of swords, Gilbert and Chevalier indulge in reading stories in a quiet library.

Gilbert: How can you read this stuff with a straight face?

Chevalier: …..

Gilbert: Even though you seem to have nothing to do with things like romance and love…

Gilbert: Surprisingly, out of all the Rhodolitian princes, you’re the one who understands the maiden’s heart the most, no?

Chevalier: …..

Gilbert: Hey, can you just stop giving your guest of honour a silent treatment and entertain me instead? I'm getting bored.

Chevalier: If you have too much free time, go back to the venue.

Gilbert: You're a sarcastic man because you know what I'm talking about.

Gilbert: What do you think would happen if I showed up in front of a crowd like that, even if it was a friendly match?

Gilbert: I’m a prince of the empire that once stained Rhodolite with blood. They might throw stones at me.

Chevalier: I don't think you have a sensitive heart to worry about that.

Gilbert: You’re right. But there is a certain rabbit who cares, you know?

Gilbert: I've decided to be kind to her.

Chevalier: ….Ridiculous.

Gilbert: Besides, I should have fulfilled my minimum obligation by participating in the opening ceremony.

Gilbert: Good for you. The one who came to Rhodolite was not the bloody emperor — but me, the sweetest little guy.

Chevalier: …..

Gilbert: Anyway…

Gilbert: You're still so good at taking care of me, following me around when I wanted to be on my own like this.

Chevalier: I've never heard…the term "care" before.

Gilbert: Is that so? But haven’t I always been so difficult to deal with?

Chevalier: I don't recall taking care of you.

Gilbert: You’re just being too modest. You see, when I was in Rhodolite, we got involved with some strange people——...

━━FLASHBACK━━

Man: Ehehe, you both are very well-dressed boys, huh? Please lend me some money.

Gilbert: Wow, there are guys like this outside of the book world. I've never seen it before.

Gilbert: I've heard that Rhodolite is a relatively safe neighborhood….

Chevalier: Don't deal with them. You're wasting your time.

Man: Cheeky little guy, aren't you? Well then, let me show you how harsh the world really is.

Gilbert: Geh, we’ve provoked him.

Chevalier: It's no problem.

Gilbert: I can't do it. There’s no way I can fight.

Chevalier: I didn't have high expectations from the beginning. You are weak.

Gilbert: ….You’re making me angry.

Gilbert: Watch out——

As the man tried to grab the black-haired boy, the blond-haired boy caught the man’s foot and pulled him to the ground.

The way he stomps on the head of the man who tries to get up is the true beast, even though he is small,

The frightened man simply turned tail and ran away.

Chevalier: That’s how you should do it.

Gilbert: ….You're an incredibly strong fighter.

Gilbert: Thank you for protecting me.

Chevalier: I didn't protect you, I just dealt with what was in front of me.

Gilbert: But he was targeting me first, wasn't he?

Gilbert: If you didn't do anything, I would definitely get hurt.

Chevalier: ….

Gilbert: So, there’s nothing wrong with thanking you.

━━FLASHBACK ENDS━━

Gilbert: ——Even you would still stubbornly deny it.

Chevalier: It's not a matter of denial, it's a matter of interpretation.

Gilbert: Yes, yes. So how do you explain this situation now?

Chevalier: I just didn't want to get involved in troublesome things like martial arts tournaments.

Gilbert: It's part of diplomacy, and as I said, even you would have taken part in it seriously if it weren't for me.

Gilbert: But now that I’m alone, there's no telling what kind of evil I might do.

Gilbert: That's why you're still keeping an eye out to protect the people in the court.

Chevalier: …..

Gilbert: I'm no longer under your protection….

Gilbert: Your actions are always for the protection of your country or people…right?

Gilbert: Well, maybe people call you "cruel and merciless beast" because your way of protecting them is extreme.

Chevalier: If you describe my method as "protecting", I suppose that means you would do the same thing.

Gilbert: Ahaha. Yes, that's right. We just protect different things.

Gilbert: Although we are quite similar, we are never compatible because we protect different things.

Gilbert: Up until now, you won’t get along with me.

Chevalier: I've never wanted to be friends with you, though.

Gilbert: Ehhh....is that what you say to your old friend?

Chevalier: You've just been treating me like one.

Gilbert: I guess that part hasn't changed either….

Gilbert: I don't mind. I'm more interested in antagonizing you than being your friend.

Gilbert: Please continue to be my enemy, okay, Chevalier?

Chevalier: …..

The two beasts spent some time in secret while listening to the cheers of the martial arts contest coming from a distance——.

[my-name-is-apollo]

Wanna share some newly found Admetus x Apollo crumbs!! because I just love them and they never fail to make me go feral every time I read something about them!!

This time it's from a latin poem "Alcestis Barcinonensis", and as the name suggests it narrates the story of Alcestis. But it also has Admetus and Apollo having a conversation with each other - which I've never seen before in any of the texts, so this poem has stirred my feels (again).

It starts with Admetus calling upon Apollo to answer his questions about his future:

"If I worshipped you ever; if I ever offered you support when you came to me as a terrified servant after the gods' charge against you"

Just...Imagine being Admetus. You worship a god ardently, and that god turns up at your door step as your servant (a terrified servant) and you get to shelter him, accept him. Support him at his lowest. And this god falls in love with you and is serving you in a way that feels like he is worshipping you. ("I am myself godly, and in Admetus, son of Pheres, I found a godly man." - Apollo in Euripides' Alcestis) It is dishonorable for the god but he doesn't care, he is ready to go to any extent to keep you happy.

A commentary on this poem points out how Admetus' addresses Apollo in this way with an intent of binding the god to himself:

I'm kinda loving how this characterises Admetus as being selfish, or at least insensitive with his request to Apollo. Yes he knows Apollo is no longer his slave, but he knows very well he can still bind Apollo to him and he doesn't hesitate to take advantage of it.

Apollo doesn't have to oblige, because he has already served Admetus exceptionally well during his years of servitude. Even afterwards, he has done enough favours for Admetus - helped him get a wife, saved him from Artemis' wrath. But of course, he still comes to do him yet another favour. It's very fitting that their story is used as an example for servitium amoris (slavery of love) by other poets like Ovid and Tibullus. Despite being free, in his heart he's still a slave to Ademtus' love. Maybe that's why Apollo lets himself get easily bound when Admetus requests for it. He probably knows that this is not entirely fair, but he still answers it because perhaps everything he has done so far is still not enough for him (or perhaps yielding to Admetus' requests has become a fond habit of his)

Back to the poem, this is Apollo's answer to Admetus:

"I grieve for you, but I must tell you the truth. Death is pressing upon you."

Apollo says he is already grieving for Admetus. He must have known that for a while huh. For how long has he been mourning Admetus in secret? :')

He not only answers the questions, but also goes beyond by letting Admetus know how to escape death - something Admetus hadn't asked for (but that probably would have been Admetus' next request). It seems like Apollo is just as desperate to save Admetus as Admetus is to save himself, and maybe he was waiting for the day Admetus would selfishly ask this of him.

Admetus has to find someone to die in his place, so that he can live longer. Given how in Ovid's poem Apollo wishes to renounce his godhood so that he could die with Hyacinthus, I don't think it would be a stretch to imagine that if it was possible, Apollo would have given his years (at least some of his years) to Admetus. Instead, Apollo tells him to ask his parents, wife and children. Where both his parents refuse, Alcestis gladly agrees to die in her husband's place.

Alcestis agrees to die, first and foremost because it will bring her glory. She will be praised and remembered for being a pious wife. And she will not have to live the life of a widow. That doesn't make her sacrifice any less noble or selfless at all...

But the thing is, while both Apollo and Alcestis go out of their way to save Admetus, Alcestis' act of saving her husband brings her glory and honor, but Apollo's part in saving Admetus only brings him dishonor and scorn from other gods. But that doesn't stop Apollo from still trying to do something for Admetus, to save him in whatever way possible. In Alcestis, Apollo even tries to save Alcestis by negotiating with Thanatos. All for the sake of Admetus.

Like just how much can a god love a mortal?

[sphireath-wisp]

#A Night at the Symphony

Synopsis: Laufey songs + Blue lock Characters + love stories = days of me violently sobbing (The pronouns in the lyrics do not matter, reader is still gender neutral and please tell me if I accidentally assign reader with any pronouns other than they/them)

Warnings: Laufey's heartwrenching songs that I love with my whole heart, Kaiser and reader are aged up in his section and old enough to drink alcohol, not proofread, weird interchanging grammar,

Notes: For my friend, @dewwberry. Writing for all the red flags today 💪💪💪

Featuring: Michael Kaiser, Sae Itoshi, Rin Itoshi x GN! reader

Michael Kaiser + "Like the Movies"

"Maybe one day I'll fall, in a bookstore, into the arms of a guy."

"Thank you," was all you could mutter out, a coy smile plastered on your face as the blonde man reached for a book on a shelf too high for you to even tiptoe to. He towers over you, his ridiculously handsome face adorned with an amused smirk.

Before he passes it to you, his blue eyes scan the cover of the book, taking his own sweet time browsing through the pages. You snap out of reality when you hear the sudden close of the book in his hands, a chuckle - most likely at you

"My bad," You apologize for staring, a relieved sigh escaping you when he nods. "It's alright," He pushes up his glasses when it slides down the bridge of his nose, grabbing another copy of the book he had passed to you. "At least I now know what I'll be reading tonight."

You hugged the book to your chest, hoping that you were the only one who could hear the loud drums of your heartbeat against your ribs. "I'll see you around?"

Pursing your lips, you nodded, ecstatically returning the favor when he waved bye to you. You continued to observe his proud strides as he walked off, only noticing the dopey smile on your face when you look at your reflection through the glass-paned windows.

"Huh?" You mumble after snapping out of your daydream, noticing a small card wedged in the middle of the book. Examining it, you widen your eyes when you see a phone number and name written on it, "Michael Kaiser?"

"We'll sneak into bars and gaze at the stars, Surrounded by fireflies."

Before you knew it, you were texting him constantly, returning to that same bookstore every week or so to meet up. As more time went on, you found yourself searching for every chance to meet up with him, whether it was at the movies or a bar. Luckily for you, Kaiser is someone who loves his champagne.

"Time passes by too quickly when I'm with you," Kaiser hears you drunkenly admit, taking a small sip of the champagne he had so generously bought for you. He hums in response, nonchalant as usual. For a moment, Kaiser feels like this bar is too stuffy - the irritatingly loud music preventing Kaiser from hearing your voice.

He rests his chin on his hand, half-heartedly - at first - listening to you ramble about whatever you had to get off your chest. "I'm such a hopeless romantic honestly." Kaiser's ears perk up.

"I've read too many romantic books, they're all raising my standards. It's no wonder I've had no luck - no one's ever good enough." You sigh and you finish another glass of champagne, not even realizing how bad the hangover after this will be for you. He doesn't say anything, his fingers reaching to brush those strands of your hair that have been bothering him. "I wanna love like I've seen in the movies." He pauses just before his fingers graze against your cheek.

"That's why I'll never fall in love." You lie to both yourself and him.

"Oh, I'd like to sleep in till two on a Sunday And listen to the bluebirds sigh."

Groggily dragging your feet out of bed, you blink when you see the blonde man leaning against the door frame. "Kaiser?" You rub your eyes again, the shock striking you all of a sudden when you find yourself in an unfamiliar room.

"I brought you back to my place. You had passed out before I could ask you where your place was." You hold your head in your hands, trying to recall the events of last night in vain. "You were clinging to me all night, you know?" Kaiser chuckles when your face contorts into embarrassment, chiding him for teasing you.

Reading you like an open book, he takes you by the hand - almost hurriedly - and forces you to sit back on the bed. "I'll go buy you some medicine to help with that headache." and so he turns his back to you, gently creaking the door shut, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You spot a small card - identical to the one that was wedged between the pages of the book before - on the bedside table, a glass with about 3/4 of it filled with water holding the card down and preventing it from flying with the wind.

"So old-fashioned." you thought, though you had to admit you did not mind one bit.

"'Take better care of yourself, idiot.'" You scoff lightly after reading the note out loud, rolling your eyes. "Wow, well, that's a very nice thing to say." You sarcastically whip back out of pure instinct - if Kaiser was here, he'd definitely be snapping another annoyingly smart retort back at you. You toss the note aside on the table, that headache killing any energy or willpower you had in your system.

Eyes wandering around the room, you spot a myriad of items - a bookshelf neatly arranged in alphabetical order (that book both you and Kaiser were reading slightly sticking out of the shelf), a comfortable rug that you could probably fall asleep in, and a trash bin filled to the brim with crumpled pieces of paper.

"Strange, why is there only paper in here?" Your curiosity took over and, for better or worse, you straighten out a few of the papers and read their contents, lightly skimming through them on the floor. You could tell Kaiser wrote this just by the handwriting.

'Don't worry about anything, rest up for the whole day. I'll take care of you.' said one note.

'I care about you more than you think, don't ever get that drunk in front of another man.-' the last part was just scribbled off as if the writer wasn't sure how to phrase his words.

You stop, rubbing your eyes as you pull out a torn-off piece of paper.

'I've fallen for you too - just like the movies.'

"Get soaked in the rain and smile through the pain, Slow dance under stormy skies."

It's been a few days since you left Kaiser's place. As much as your heart ached to be with him, you had no idea what to do honestly when you found that piece of a once-complete letter. You didn't know what to do when it boiled down to love despite being a connoisseur in romantic movies or books.

In the end, you were clueless and utterly hopeless, dragging your feet back to that same bookstore.

You wandered inside, that once-comforting almond smell of books making your mind think back to the first time you met him. Yet, you didn't see him at all, no matter which corner you turned. Well, it's not as if you both agreed to meet up today - why would he be here? Though, you always did believe Kaiser had some kind of telepathic power when it came to you.

Defeated, you exited the bookstore just to notice a familiar figure sitting on a bench, staring off into the pouring rain. That blonde hair with blue streaks, that confident posture, of course, it's Kaiser. A mix of emotions stirs in you, but your body reacts on its own accord, feet marching confidently in his direction. Heart pounding. Head woozy. That same lovestruck smile on your face.

"Didn't bring an umbrella?" You peeked over his shoulder, startling him for a second. Kaiser sighs in relief when he registers that it's just you, nodding. He sits up, spine straightening when he notices the umbrella you have in your hand. "You'll have to hold it though, you're taller than me."

"Alright, alright." Kaiser opens the umbrella and covers both of you with it, that usual smug grin on his face - but something feels different this time. You feel his arm wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to him. "Stay close or else you'll get soaked." His grip on your waist tightens.

"It's no wonder I've had no luck, no one's ever good enough. I want a love like I've seen in the movies. That's why I'll never fall in love."

"You're such an idiot, actually." You reply to his last joke, your chest bubbling as you try to contain your laughter - in vain. Kaiser dramatically scoffs, making that 'tch' sound and shaking his head."

"Says the one who forced me to take care of them because they were too drunk to tell me where they lived." You jab him back lightly in response. "For your info, I did not force you. You were the one who willingly took care of me."

"I willingly took care of you because I'm just that good of a person!" Kaiser tilted the umbrella to your side, ignoring how his shoulder was getting drenched in the rain. He masks his amusement with a frown when you sigh.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever floats your boat." You roll your eyes despite that stupidly cheerful smile on your face. "Hmph, you sound very doubtful of me." Kaiser retorts, elbowing you, "Then, tell me, know-it-all. Why do you think I willingly brought you back to my place that night?"

You place a hand on your chin, thinking for a moment. A brilliant idea hits you and you put on your best smile, deciding to reply with a cheesy quote from the book both you and Kaiser read, "Because you love me."

He recognized that cliché quote without any trouble, almost instantly facepalmed, and burst out laughing. Something about you made him feel a little more alive, a little more complete. Was it just him, or did every morning seem a little easier to get through ever since he met you?

"You know..." Kaiser lowers his voice, the atmosphere changing.

"That night when you were drunk, while you did not tell me where you lived, you did confess to me something else." Kaiser notices that the rain had gradually stopped as he spoke, observing your once hyper movements slow down. "You told me you fell in love with me."

You halt dead in your tracks, your cheeks heating up. A swarm of butterflies rush through your body and even though you parted your lips, you didn't say anything. He stopped in front of you, the distance between you and him being heartstoppingly close. "I never got to tell you my response to your confession, so..."

Kaiser's wrist slowly turned, tilting the umbrella at an angle that blocked anyone's view of this precious moment - seeing your face in such a flustered state is a luxury that Kaiser doesn't want to share. You feel a hand cup your cheek too gently, treating your skin like the most precious of porcelain. A more genuine, soft grin adorned the man you fell in love with as he slowly pulled you closer, stealing away your first kiss.

"Yes (Name), I do love you. I'll bring you back to my place and take care of you whenever you need me to."

Sae Itoshi + "Beautiful Stranger"

"Beautiful stranger sitting right there, Looked up at me... Looked back for a second, didn't want to be rude. I tend to fall in love on the tube."

You unintentionally whispered a 'wow', your mouth left agape at the sight of a lean young man boarding the train. Reddish-brown hair that he unconsciously brushes his hand through, slim green eyes that make him look so unapproachable, a cold and aloof gaze - yet you felt nothing but warmth in your chest.

He sat across from you, hands tucking themselves comfortably in his pocket after zipping up his jacket. He places his bag on the floor, clamping it in place between his legs.

You notice him sigh, seemingly tired from... whatever he was doing before. His gaze drifts around, locking eye contact with you for a short moment and you felt your body tense up.

You snap your head in the other direction, your eyes still wanting to look back, maybe even wave if you could muster up the courage. Covering the lower half of your face with your hand, you muffle your gasp and pray that he didn't notice you.

You take a deep breath. No way you would fall in love with some stranger you just met, right? From the corner of your eye, you glimpse at him and realize he isn't looking back.

Maybe, hopefully, he didn't catch you? You slowly turn your head back forward, trying to calm your beating heart and that annoyingly imaginative mind of yours.

Greedily, you steal another glance at him, looking at him from head to toe multiple times. It was as if you couldn't get enough of him.

"Beautiful stranger sitting right there, Reading the newspaper, stuck to his chair. I swore that he smiled and I felt my heart drop. Heard the doors open, came to my stop."

You observed him as he fished his phone out of his pockets. He leaned back, mindlessly scrolling on his phone. You scratched the back of your neck and immediately turned your head when he looked up from his phone, pursing your lips.

While you couldn't see his face properly, you swore that there was a small smile on his face. Getting up from your seat, you prepared to leave and waited for the doors to open.

For the first time in forever, you didn't want to reach home this early though the comfort of your bed was more than appealing. Some part of you still wanted to linger around. Your head turns back to that same stranger, still staring at his phone. The sound of the door opening echoed, it was your cue to leave.

Though you weren't hallucinating - he was smiling.

"Beautiful stranger, catching my stare. It's fate we collided right then back there"

You boarded the same bus on your way to work and back, despite it taking longer than your usual route, hope that you'll see that same beautiful stranger dwelling in the deepest part of your heart. Just like a loop of last night, you awaited his arrival patiently.

"Oh!" You mumble under your breath, gaze following his figure just like his shadow would the moment you recognized that unforgettable face. He looks around the bus, almost as if he was searching for something, and you swore you saw him stare at you for a slight second before sitting down across from you.

Just like that, boarding that exact bus became routine for you, and your mornings were brightened by his presence. Your innocent little crush escalated and bloomed into something more, and for a second, you longed for him more.

You wondered how his voice sounded when speaking to you instead of on a call with someone else, you fantasized about how his hand would feel in yours, how warm his embrace probably is, how lovely it must be to be that special someone in his life.

No, this has to be infatuation... right?

"I wonder if he felt the same thing too. Innocent crush on the morning commute."

Another unremarkable morning, you anticipated the same cycle to repeat itself. He'll board the train, glance around, then sit across from you.

Or so you thought. That night, he seemed particularly exhausted, his demeanor was completely different in the morning. His posture was a bit slouched, occasionally yawning and rubbing his eyes. You frowned, worry in your eyes as you clutched the phone in your hand.

As usual, he looked around with that same detached expression. However, this time, despite all of the empty seats around, he sat next to you. Widening your eyes, you immediately turned your head away, more than reluctant to let him see that rosy glow - that you've noticed is a side effect that happens when you think of him - on your cheeks.

You leaned back in your seat, wanting to get a better look at him. He had his arms crossed, reddish-brown hair messy, and eyes weary. He dipped his chin, seemingly looking down at his lap before closing his eyes. Sooner or later, you could hear the soft murmurs and snores from him.

As the train came to a sudden halt, the impact caused his head to land on your left shoulder, using it as a pillow. Cautiously, you adjusted your position and took off your left earphone so it wouldn't disturb him in his sleep. All the passengers must have been jumping to conclusions when they gave you both warm smiles and nods of encouragement, what could they possibly be thinking about?

Though, no matter how you deny it, that enamored smile on your face must have fueled whatever assumptions they were making of the both of you. When you turned to check on him, you noticed something peculiar.

Was he always smiling like that at first?

"What if I would've stayed on the train? Dared to stand up and ask for his name? Maybe we would have exchanged a few words, A fairytale moment could have occurred."

While you dreamed that this moment could last forever, you noticed that you would be reaching your stop soon, and - no matter how tempting the idea of missing a few stops was - you were left with no other option than to shake him awake.

"Hey... hey?" He must be a light sleeper because he woke up pretty quickly with a few gentle tugs. Why didn't he wake up when the train suddenly stopped then... Was he pretending?

You giggle at him, insisting that it was okay when he apologized to you, even lowering his head a little. It felt like something had sparked between the both of you through that short interaction, something that sent your heart into overdrive. From the subtle softening of his gaze to how his shoulders dropped in relief, you could only wonder if you were the cause of such dismissive reactions.

"Oh... this is my stop." Disappointment laces your words, your heart sinking.

With a scowl on your face, you approached the train doors. You give him one last sorrowful look, wishing that sweet, surreal moment wasn't so short. You met his gaze, locking eye contact as you felt the train slow down.

You lifted your hand to wave goodbye, but you clench your fist and hesitate, hurriedly dropping your hand back down right after. Your fingernails dig deeper into the flesh of your palm, that crazy part of you scolding you for missing such a wonderful opportunity. Any rational, logical sense left in you supported what you did, it did save you from any embarrassment or rejection.

Turning your back to him, you solemnly take a small step closer to the exit once the train doors open.

"Wait," You feel fingers envelop your forearm, preventing you from entirely leaving the train. Surprise coursed its way through your veins when you realized it was your beautiful stranger holding you by the arm, a rosy glow that you were only familiar seeing yourself with adorning his cheeks. "I'll walk you home."

(Bonus: After spending more time with Sae, he'll purposefully save a seat on the train for you, placing his bag there and patiently waiting for you. Even when you text him that you won't be showing up to work, he still does it out of pure habit unless the train is really crowded or someone asks.)

Rin Itoshi + "Valentine"

"I've rejected affection for years and years. Now, I have it, and, damn it, it's kind of weird."

"Rin, Rin, what does this word mean?" Your fingers pointed at a phrase on the letter you found on your table. You knew basic phrases in Japanese and barely got through school with that knowledge. Thus, Rin was naturally assigned to be your personal translator throughout the day since he was fluent in English and was conveniently in your class. And, would you look at that, he sits next to you as well.

You watch him eye the letter and his eyebrows shoot up. He snatches the letter from your grasp, practically crumpling between his index and thumb fingers. The smell of the perfume - cheap, for sure - wafts through the air up his nose and he clogs it. Rin was always the type of person to have a disdain for well, most things, but whatever vexed him was more than just the glittery design.

"Ignore it," He expects you to oblige, giving the letter a piercing, demeaning glare. "It's nothing important."

"At least tell me how to pronounce it!" You pout, crossing your arms, "I have to learn Japanese, or else I'll forever be stuck with a grumpy, moody translator." You didn't mind the idea so much actually, but you continued to act like you did.

"I'm not an idiot, (Name). You'll just search up the meaning." He drapes an arm over the top of his chair, jaw resting on his knuckles. "Even if I promise? Swear to keep my word and not search it up?" You persist, probing into why he seemed so repulsed by some scrap of paper.

"Even if you promise," Rin repeats after you, seemingly not budging an inch. You audibly sigh, crossing your arms over your chest. "Won't you tell me? Come on, it can't be that bad." Your knee swerves to the side, jabbing his leg from under the table. "I have a right to know, the letter was meant for me after all."

Logically, Rin wouldn't listen. No, he shouldn't. If wishes to keep his pride, he shouldn't give in to your request. From adopting the traits of his older brother, from an early age, he weaved and molded himself to be rational at every step. Yet, somehow, every bone in his body wants to trust and believes you.

"It doesn't matter anyway," or so he would rationalize his actions, fingers pointing at the words on the letter. Your eyes trail after his finger, listening intently.

"あいしてる.(Ai-shi-teru)" He lowers his voice suddenly, almost into a whisper as if he didn't want anyone else to overhear him. You echo after him and for a moment, you could've sworn that the tip of his ears grew red, "あいしてる."

"He tells me I'm pretty, Don't know how to respond. I tell him that he's pretty too. Can I say that? Don't have a clue."

Rin's group of friends people he tolerates happen to sit near your table during lunchtime and, occasionally, your friends would catch the short glimpses you exchange with him.

You feel a not-so-subtle kick from under the table and you retaliate, returning the favor as you chide your friends. Judging by their smirks, you could tell you were in for a disaster. Seems like they caught you red-handed.

As you are forced to profusely deny anything they say, their teasing reaches Rin's ears.

"You're all red! You definitely have a crush on him!" One of your friends exclaimed, teasing you. You felt like melting as you covered your ears in a weak attempt to block out their words. "Oh, shut up! You're so loud."

Rin glances at you from the corner of his eye and you could feel the shivers crawling up your spine, clawing their way around your body. You could only pray he didn't hear anything as you chewed on your food. You couldn't swallow the food down, fidgeting with your hands under the table while stuttering out poor excuses to change the topic.

At first, he planned to save you the embarrassment and pretend to be oblivious. It'd cause him less trouble anyway - just look away and continue eating, engraving the memory in his mind. Having said that, he didn't know what made him so fond of that flustered expression on your face.

"Lukewarm," He utters under his breath - directed to your friends and, for the first time in a while, himself. He looks away, pulling out his phone to text you with a scowl on his face.

You see your phone buzz on the table and the notification, much to your dismay, displayed Rin's message to you for all your friends to see.

"u have a nice smile" and you felt like your eyes were playing tricks on you. You swiped your phone off the table, pressing the screen against your chest and close to your racing heart. Your friends all screamed and cheered in unison, all you wanted to do right now is scream into a pillow and curl into a ball.

You took a deep breath and gathered your thoughts, shakily checking your phone again. Slowly, your gaze returned back to him, scrutinizing the way the ends of his lips curl upwards.

"Ty, u too <3" You text him back.

"With every passing moment, I surprise myself. I'm scared of flies, I'm scared of guys- Someone, please, help! 'Cause I think I've fallen in love this time."

All of a sudden, it's hard to maintain eye contact like the both of you used to. Every time you both chat, that moment when the both of you coincidentally lock eye contact releases swarms of butterflies.

All of a sudden, it's routine to walk home together. When one of you has the misfortune of needing to stay back after class, the other has no qualms or complaints about waiting. If one of you forgets something like homework, the other remembers. It's like you both complete each other, two peas in a pod.

All of a sudden, he's the one carrying your things for you, insisting it's all lightweight and not a problem after hearing you complain about your back aching.

All of a sudden, you both of whispering answers to each other whenever the teacher calls one of you out.

All of a sudden, you love learning Japanese. You love how he's somewhat patient with you - or at least he tries his best to. He'll sigh when he has to repeat himself, but that beaming grin plastered on your face when you learn something new is one of the best rewards for him - better than the money you continue to pay him for the tutoring despite how he refuses to take it.

'Expect the unexpected,' but there's no way you could have predicted this. Everything happened so fast, but you didn't want things to slow down either.

"I've lost all control of my heartbeat now, Got caught in a romance with him somehow. I still feel a shock through every bone When I hear an "I love you", 'Cause now I've got someone to lose."

He couldn't tell whether it was a blessing or curse to sit next to you. Everything you did has this selcouth effect on him, his mind riddled with that unusually flawless image of you, turning winter into spring in a matter of seconds. Now that he thinks about it, did you ever have any flaws?

From flowers to breathtaking sunsets, his heart had been plagued with this confusing, unfamiliar feeling because everything reminded him of you. It was too intense to forget about with time, too new to be hatred, and too extraordinary to let go of.

You're just like the best goal he ever scored, the best gift he's ever received, the best movie he's ever seen. You're so refreshing, new, but at the very same time comforting like his mom's cooking or a nostalgic video game. You're his biggest weakness and the best thing that ever happened to him all at once.

He's heard of love. How 2-dimensional and sappy it is, how people crave and want it so desperately. He never did understand it. However, now, faced with no choice but to confront his feelings, he's left dumbfounded by just how puzzling and deep they are.

...It's alright if he thinks with his heart, just this one time, right?

"The first one to ever like me back. I'm seconds away from a heart attack. How the hell did I fall in love this time? And honestly, I can't believe I get to call you mine. I blinked and suddenly, I had a Valentine."

February 13, 11:39 p.m. Rin walks into the convenience store, hands tucked comfortably into his pockets as he walks in, a small bag hanging from his shoulder. He sighs when he spots you running up to him, waving at him.

"Why'd you call me so late to come here? You made it sound like you were going to die or something."

"I just... felt like seeing you." You innocently chirp, grabbing some chips that both you and Rin would share later on, good thing you knew his favorite flavor beforehand. "Is that a bad reason?"

Rin narrows his eyes before another sigh escapes him - which you assume means 'yes'. "Why'd you come?" You ask back. Knowing Rin, he should have expected a silly reason like that coming from you.

"I wanted to make sure you were safe. Going out this late is dangerously close to a stupid idea." You chuckle at how logical his answer is, "So, you're saying that you don't mind doing something stupid so I could be safe?"

You feel a sudden glare on you and you giggle. "Okay, okay, I won't tease you." Done choosing your snacks, you go to pay at the counter.

11:47. You exit the store with Rin following behind, holding the plastic bag filled with the snacks you hand-picked. Sitting down on a bench in a nearby park, both you and Rin open up the snacks and chat to pass the time.

"11:58," you whisper under your breath after checking the time on your phone, "almost time."

"Rin," Rin glances at you, tilting his head to meet your eyes when you call out his name, your tone mellow. "How many Valentine's Day gifts did you receive last year?"

He leans back on the chair, the mention of Valentine's Day causing him to glance elsewhere. "Didn't count, I rejected all of them." His hand reaches into his bag, fingers grabbing onto the box of chocolates he had impulsively bought for you, but he doesn't dare take them out.

"Do you have a Valentine this year?" You take a deep breath before asking. He shakes his head, much to your relief. "You?" Rin questions and you shake your head.

"I don't really know how to ask this," you chuckle, an attempt to lighten up the mood as you shift closer to him. "But..."

"Will you be my Valentine?" You ask, staring up at the moon, miraculously able to blurt out the words without stuttering. The silence after that kills you as you hope for a favorable response, you feel the knot in your stomach tighten.

Rin carefully places the box of chocolates on your lap, hand lingering on your thigh for a moment. The box of chocolates was red and rectangular, you could smell a slight scent of vanilla, all tied together with a ribbon. Attached to it was a small card that wrote, "あいしてる." in messy handwriting - he was never good at calligraphy.

"Aishiteru," you read aloud, "You never did tell me what it meant." Rin felt something stuck in his throat, only replying to you with a soft 'mm'. You ignore his refusal to tell you, but you could kind of guess the meaning now that he used it.

Leaning your head on his shoulder, you sigh in content.

February 14, 12:00. "The moon is beautiful tonight, isn't it?" You whisper to him, sliding your hand into his pocket as this warmth bursts from your chest. You feel his hand pull yours deeper into his pocket, intertwining fingers. "Yeah, yeah it is."

[partypoisonzz]

passenger princess (90s!trey parker x fem!reader)

Thanks to my beloved mutual @sqiblet for the title and inspiring the concept with a message they sent me a week or so ago.

Content:

- Road head (woohoo)

- Mean!Trey

- Degradation AND praise kinks

- Hair pulling

- Everyone's a switch and nothing hurts (except for when it's meant to)

Word Count: 2,826

Disclaimer: This explicit story was written by an adult for consumption by other adults only. If you are under 18, please do not read or interact in any way.

Hope you enjoy.

- Pen

-

You shift in the passenger seat, eyes opening slowly. Squinting at the clock on the dash through the dark, you find that it is currently 10:47 PM.

Jesus, you think as you blink and stretch. I've been asleep for over four hours.

You straighten in your seat, turning to look at your boyfriend as he stops at a red light. Even in the dim light from the road, you can see that Trey looks tired, and no wonder.

The two of you threw a handful of your belongings into the trunk of his car before the sun rose this morning and started driving out to California. You're headed to some cheap little apartment that you've never even seen in person because Trey and Matt rushed to sign the lease as soon as they finished the walkthrough. You don't know exactly what to expect. You just know that your life as you've known it all these years is done, and you're starting over.

You should be scared shitless, but you aren't. You owe all of that to the guy in the driver's seat. 

A drowsy smile comes over your face. It might not be smart, but you would follow him anywhere. Once school was over and the first movie was out, the possibility of success seemed all the more real. It just wouldn't be too easy to find in Colorado. When he suggested pooling some money together and heading towards LA sooner rather than later, he was only met with agreement from Matt and Dian. And you, of course. 

Now the four of you have a one-bedroom apartment waiting for you on the outskirts of the city. It's real, and it all could be the world's dumbest flight of fancy, but you can't bring yourself to worry about it right now. 

Not when your boyfriend looks so fucking beautiful in the glow of the traffic light. 

"Hey," you rasp out, throat still scratchy from your nap. 

He glances over at you, shooting you a tired smile. "Good morning," he says, despite the fact that you still have a little over an hour to go before midnight. "How'd you sleep?" 

"As good as I can in a car." Taking note of the dark circles forming under his eyes, you ask: "Do you want to switch off again?" 

He shakes his head, loose strands of his newly-bleached hair falling over his face. "Nah," he says. "We've only got a few more miles 'til the rest stop. Then we can stop for the night." 

You frown. "You sure? You look like you're about to fall asleep…"

"I'll be fine," he assures you. His free hand lands on your thigh as the light changes, squeezing as the car creeps back into motion. "As long as I have you to keep me awake, I'll be good."

You grin, reveling in the feeling of his fingers against your skin. You find yourself wishing he would dig them in just a little bit harder, leave behind some of those pretty bruises you love so much. Reminders of who you belong to. "Keep you awake, huh?" you ask. "How?"

"Talk to me," he responds easily. Try as he might to play coy, you are keenly aware of his hand climbing higher and higher up your leg, stopping at the seam of your shorts before traveling back down. "Have any interesting dreams?" 

You laugh. "Do you want me to be honest or make one up?"

"Hmm… Honesty first."

"We made it to the apartment," you tell him. "We were unpacking. It was a dumpy little place, but I was just so happy that it was ours."

"Mmm-hmm." He gives your thigh a slight squeeze. "And what about the more interesting one?" 

You bite back a laugh as your own hand travels across the center console, stopping to hover over his zipper. "I found a more fun way to keep you awake." 

You can tell that he's struggling not to look down at where your hand is going, wondering if you're getting at what he suspects. "And what was that?" 

With that, your hand meets denim. "I blew you while you were driving."

Before he can try to suppress it, a groan breaks up from the back of his throat. "Shit," he curses.

A spark of satisfaction runs through you, noting that he's already getting hard before you even start moving your hand. It really doesn't take much. "You didn't seem tired anymore, that's for sure." You manage to keep your voice level as you palm him through his jeans, hiding the fact that you're getting wet at the mere thought of it. "Only problem was you only had one hand on the wheel. The other one was on the back of my head, pushing me further down onto your cock." You laugh. "We made a real mess, too. I tried to swallow it all, but…"

Your words drift off as he finally digs his fingers into your skin, biting out an order. "Shut up." 

Though the dominance in his tone makes your heart flutter, you continue your teasing. "Wanna do it for me?" 

"Fuck." The hand that was resting on your leg falls away, reaching to undo your seatbelt. "Come here." 

You hesitate. It's always fun to get him hot and bothered, then piss him off. All the better outcome for you. "You really think you'll be able to concentrate on the road while I'm sucking you off?" 

"Yeah, I will," he snaps. "Just get over here and…"

"Okay, okay." You lean over the center console, contorting yourself in a less-than-comfortable position. Though it's really only a mild inconvenience, you opt to put on for just a bit longer. See how wild you can drive him before getting down to it. "You know… This is sort of an awkward position…"

"Don't care," he cuts you off. "Just… Fucking…"

"Shouldn't you be a bit more patient?" you chastise him, even though you're already tugging down his zipper. 

He huffs. "Shouldn't you be a little less of a fucking tease?" He freezes, shivering slightly under your touch as you quickly manage to snap the button on his jeans and tug them down. 

Though you know he isn't looking at you, you smile up at him, anyway. "You know that you love it, baby," you coo, planting your hands against his trembling thighs. "Look at you. You try to be all mean, but you're fucking shaking for me." 

His jaw clenches. You know he's about to say something that would probably hurt your feelings if you weren't so damn turned on. Before he can, you grab ahold of his cock through the thin fabric of his boxers, inspiring a desperate gasp as he involuntarily bucks his hips up into your hand.

You laugh. Suddenly, you're the mean one. "See? You can try to take control all you want, but at the end of the day you're just my good boy." 

Your eyes flicker back up to take in his expression, only for heat to pool in your belly. 

Yeah. You've really done it now. 

Though he's obviously flustered, it's all the more apparent that he's pissed off. You love this struggle that the two of you regularly engage in, the constant question of who will be the first to give in and let the other have their way with them. 

Tonight, you had no intention of winning this struggle. You just wanted to see how much it would take to push him over the edge. 

When he stops at the next light, you know for sure that you've reached that point. His hand momentarily leaves the steering wheel, pulling his pants down the rest of the way while the fingers of his other hand curl beneath your jaw, holding your head in place. "You and your smart fucking mouth," he spits. "I'm gonna give you something else to do with it."

Just like that, any semblance of dominance leaves you. You find yourself whimpering, relishing the force of his touch. "Please."

He laughs. "Please?" he echoes. "Baby, you don't have to beg." He releases your jaw, his left hand returning to the steering wheel as his right settles on the back of your neck. You swear you could melt into the seats as he presses down. "Just fucking take it."

With those words, you do exactly as you were told.

He groans as you wrap your lips around him, tongue running over the side of his cock. You cast your eyes up again just in time to see him catch himself after leaning back against the headrest as his left hand curls back around the steering wheel. "There we go," he chokes out as he straightens his posture. 

You feel a rush of heat between your thighs as his hand moves from your neck to your hair. Now that he has you where he wants you, his forcefulness has melted away into tenderness. "That's my good girl," he praises you as you lick back up the side and over his head. You moan around him at the affectionate name, inspiring a breathy chuckle. 

"You like that, don't you?" he asks. "Yeah, you do. My desperate little good girl, sucking my cock to keep me awake while I drive."

The car begins to move again as you continue to work him. By this point, you have each other memorized, knowing exactly what sends one another over the edge. You know exactly where to press your tongue, when to hollow your cheeks around him, how fast to go. It's familiar, but it isn't boring by any stretch of the imagination. You're just waiting for the reward of making him come, — a privilege that never gets old. 

You could never get tired of his voice, either. You swear that every word and sound that leaves his mouth makes you wetter, spurring you on. 

Despite the fact that his eyes are focused on the road, Trey sounds just as thoroughly debauched as if you were kneeling in front of the couch. Each desperate groan inspires you to slow down, drawing out every repeated movement as the salty taste of precome meets your tongue. 

"Fuck," he curses as you swirl your tongue around his head at a frustratingly slow pace. "Thought you were done being a little tease…" His complaint is cut off by a gasp as you abruptly take him all the way down. 

His fingers tangle in your hair as a desperate, high-pitched sound escapes his mouth. Finally, he reaches the back of your throat, eliciting a gag.

"Holy shit, baby." You feel his thighs shaking beneath your hands again as he forces out the breathy curse. He lets out another sharp gasp as you momentarily lift your head, only to lower yourself back down, constricting around him again with a quiet choked sound.

With that, his desperate moan turns into a growl. "That's what you want, huh?" he asks. "You want me to fuck your throat?" 

You bob your head again, resulting in another gag, followed by an affirmative hum. 

He laughs, fingers running absentmindedly over your scalp. "Pretty little slut," he mutters before bucking his hips up against your mouth. 

Tears prick at your eyes as you gag again. The growing warmth between your legs causes you to shift a bit, squeezing your thighs together in an attempt to satisfy your growing desire to be touched. 

Each buck is harsh, though the violence of your gag reflex's response lessens over time. Even still, Trey's hand in your hair and the sounds that he makes are enough to leave you whimpering, shifting against the seat desperately. 

"Such a good fucking slut for me… Oh, fuck…" He rolls his hips up again, causing your throat to tighten at the same time that your walls clench around nothing. You can feel him, pulsing and twitching in your mouth, letting you know that he's getting close. 

The way his hand tightens in your hair confirms this suspicion. You moan as he collects a handful of hair and harshly tugs before pushing you back down on him. "Is this what you wanted?" he asks through a series of strained groans. "Wanted me to use you? Wanted me to treat you like my own little fuckdoll?" 

You try to hum an agreement, only for an unintelligible sound to break up from your throat. 

He laughs. The combination of affection and condescension makes you even wetter. "Don't talk with your mouth full, baby." He pushes your head down again, resulting in another choked sound. 

You focus on breathing through your nose as each push of his hips gets faster and his groans grow louder and more desperate. 

"I'm gonna come," he announces. "Gonna fill up your pretty little mouth…" 

He gives your hair an especially harsh pull as he releases with a loud, shaking groan. You let out a quiet, desperate sound as warm come fills your mouth, swallowing around him as he rides out his orgasm. 

Finally, he relaxes back against the seat with an unsteady sigh. "Fuck…" His fingers relax in your hair, going back to stroking gently as your breathing begins to even out. "You okay, baby?" 

You nod as you pull away, running your hand across your mouth as you swallow once more. "Yeah," you choke out, voice slightly rough. 

He hums in reply as he flicks on his turn signal, turning into a convenience store parking lot. 

He pulls the car into a dimly-lit parking space before reaching for the glove compartment. He comes up with a stack of fast food napkins. He uses one to clean himself up before fixing his pants. Discarding the first napkin, he turns towards you. "C'mere, hon." 

You scoot closer to him, allowing him to begin wiping at your face. 

You lean slightly into his hand as he cleans up the mascara-tinged tear streaks and mixture of come and drool. "You weren't kidding," he comments as he grabs another napkin. "We really do make a mess together."

Finally, he deems his work satisfactory, crumpling the last napkin before gently cupping your face in both hands. He presses a gentle kiss against your lips before pulling back, running his thumb against your cheek. "So good for me," he says. "I love you."

You smile, resting your forehead against his. "Love you, too."

You stay there like that for a moment before he gently pats your cheek. "Let's go get something to eat, hmm?" he says. "My treat."

-

You sit your selection of various snacks aside, grabbing a large cup from the stack next to the soda fountain. As you fill the cup up with ice, you feel a familiar pair of arms snake around your waist. 

You smile as Trey rests his chin on your shoulder, holding you as though you were standing in your own kitchen and not some random convenience store in the middle of the night. "Find anything you like?" he asks.

You lean back into him, pulling your cup away from the ice dispenser. "Mmm-hmm."

"Good." He kisses your forehead as he pulls away. "I'll be able to actually spoil you one day. I promise." 

Warmth blooms in your chest at that thought. You don't care if the spoiling part ever comes to fruition. Just the promise of one day is enough for you, assuring you that, whatever the future holds, you'll be doing it together. 

-

He doesn't let you drive the rest of the way to the rest stop. "Just a few minutes," he tells you. "Then we can both get some sleep."

Soon enough, you're parked in the parking lot, hulking trucks on all sides. The two of you climb into the backseat, where Trey takes off his jacket and folds in his lap. "Here."

You lay your head in his lap with a contented sigh, allowing him to go back to playing with your hair. You close your eyes, leaning into his touch.

"Do you want me to, ah… Do anything for you?" he asks quietly.

You laugh, shaking your head. "We'll be at the apartment tomorrow. Matt and Dian won't be up here for a few days. We'll have plenty of time." You laugh. "Too many creepy old truckers here."

"I'd make those truckers look the other fucking way…" 

You swat at him lazily. "Shut up. I know you can't fight."

"For you, I could." 

You look up at his dark-circled eyes and make an incredulous sound. "I don't think you could even stay awake for long enough."

"For you, I could," he repeats. He reaches for your hand and pulls it up to his lips. Your eyes flutter as he plants a gentle kiss against your fingers. "Love you, baby."

"Love you, too." You close your eyes, feeling yourself beginning to drift off. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Even with your eyes closed, you can hear the smile in his voice. "Yeah," he says. "Tomorrow."

Another promise to soothe you to sleep. 

[junosbagel]

regular | charlie walker x gn!reader

summary: you are new to woodsboro and luckily landed a job at the local video store. charlie, a regular at the video store takes an interest in you

warnings: none!

a/n: a little story that came up in my head. i'm also open to receiving criticism!

-it had been only a few weeks since you moved into woodsboro

-luckily you got a job at the local video store so you can get a head start in making some decent money

-you found it easy and enjoyable to an extent as you also got to recognize and speak to the regulars that would usually purchase or rent movies

-along with keeping some movie posters and merch, and the discounts for yourself

-on a particularly slow day, you were simply doing homework at the register since you had already finished restocking items

-"hey um, i was wondering if you have the descent in stock, i couldn't find it at the shelves"

-you looked up, the boy whom you recognized from school stood on the opposite side of the counter

-"the descent, huh? let me check."

-you turned to the computer, searching if anyone had recently purchased or rented it

-"i'm sorry, our last copy had been purchased. we won't have the next copies arriving soon"

-before charlie could speak, you beat him to it

-"i could recommend you something though."

-"o-oh, sure"

-"since the descent is pretty much about these girls getting stuck in a cave and having to survive from these humanoid-cannibalistic creatures... how about a zombie film?"

-"zombie film's cool"

-"by the way, your name's charlie right?"

-"yeah," he looks at your name tag, "y/n," he read aloud. you gave him a simple nod

-"have you heard of 28 days later?"

-"i haven't seen it yet, but i heard it was really good"

-"trust me, it is. would you be interested in renting it?"

-charlie nods

-"DVD or blu-ray?" you ask

-"DVD"

-he paid the fee for renting the movie

-weeks turned into months and out of the other regulars, your interactions with charlie were the highlight your days at work

-he quickly found it easy to talk to you, and you did too. you and charlie became good friends fast

-he had quickly developed feelings for you

-something about the way your eyes light up when your favorite movies were mentioned, or the way you got excited when you got to talk about your interests, how effortlessly attractive you looked all the time, the way you looked at him when you were listening to him, everything about you was so attractive to charlie

-sometimes, the two of you would talk when no one else was in line at the register

-you and charlie would also give each other movie recommendations after learning how equally passionate you are about them

-the two of you would also talk in school, but you didn't have many classes with each other

-on days you didn't have work, you'd go to the cinema club meetings since charlie is the president of the club

-when the last bell rang, he went over to you as everyone exited the classroom

-"i was wondering if you wanted to catch a movie with me tonight. i was originally gonna go with robbie, but he had to do something with his mom, so i have an extra ticket"

-"sure thing. what movie?"

-"insidious."

-"ooh! i've been looking forward to seeing it."

-"cool. i can pick you up later if that's cool?"

-you smiled at his offer, "yeah, thanks. i'll text you my address."

-charlie bit down on his bottom lip to repress the idiotic smile that was about to form on his lips, "alright. be ready by 7, i'll see you later"

-the rest of the afternoon, charlie had been freaking out

-he was even surprised that he had the guts to ask you

-charlie was constantly checking himself in front of the mirror

-was his hair too messy? were his clothes not properly ironed? does he stand awkwardly? did his voice sound weird?

-well, it was too late to do anything now. he had to leave his house to pick you up

-following the address you sent him, he arrived in front of your house in minutes. he saw you approach the car

-he opened the passenger door for you too

-for some reason, charlie was very nervous

-whenever he was around you, he was still nervous, but not THIS nervous. sure the two of you have spoke numerous times, but in this particular setting, it made his hands all sweaty and his face felt like it was burning up

-however, you had kept things pretty casual like always

-he offered to be the one to buy your guys's food and drinks but you insisted on paying instead since he was the one who paid for the tickets

-the movie started and things were fine

-although charlie tried to focus on the massive screen in front of him, he couldn't help but sneak glances at you

-throughout the times where there were jump scares or suspenseful scenes, you would lean towards charlie or place your hand on his shoulder/arm or both

-thank goodness he was in a dark theater because the entire time his cheeks were painted with a deep red

-when the movie was over, you both decided to sneak in another theater to watch another movie and ended up watching despicable me

-pretty random movie, but the both of you were up for another movie, one that was lighter

-it was really late at night, but it was also a friday, meaning no school, so you and charlie grabbed some fast food and ate together in an empty parking lot, sitting on top of the front of the car

-the both of you talked about the movies you had just watched, shared funny stories, joked around with each other, playfully argue over random opinions, and even got into a few deep conversations

-eventually, it was time to go home. he dropped you off at your place

-before you got out of his car, you thanked him and gave him a sweet kiss on the cheek, then left

-he was completely shocked, cheeks red, and face on fire

-the next time you saw him, you had asked him out!!!!!

-obviously he said yes, so now the two of you are dating yayayay

-things were almost the same aside from being more affectionate and hanging out/going on dates more frequently

-he likes to visit you during work and sometimes brings you food that you can eat during your breaks

-sleepovers and movie nights together all the time too

a/n: this is kind of meh but like i said it was something small i thought of. ALSO i hope someone noticed that i referred to movies that were much older since scream 4 takes place in 2011. Insidious and Despicable Me both came out sometime in 2010 so yeahhh

[tokkibbang00]

WHY CAN'T WE BE FRIENDS? - C. YEONJUN (TEASER)

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS, DO NOT INTERACT. UNEDITED.

synopsis: Being caught in a series of scandals and controversies, Yeonjun's company has had enough of his attitude problems and finally decides to send him off to university. Despite his arguments towards management, he has no choice but to follow them or else he can kiss his modeling career goodbye. You're a fashion major attending university. You'd think you'd be delighted hearing the news about a famous model coming into your department, but as soon as you were seated beside him in one of your classes, you'd soon come to realize that you absolutely hated his guts

rating: (n)sfw

pairing: model!choi yeonjun x fashion major!afab reader

genre: college!au, enemies to lovers!au, kinda angsty, reader and yeonjun are idiots.

warnings: cursing, yeonjun's kind of an asshole at first, mentions of alcohol, suggestive, (will add more when the full story is posted)

a/n: i was originally planning on posting my han jisung fic first but i got so excited about this one that i knew that i just had to post this. i was also writing a part 2 of a certain fic, but that's a conversation for some other time 👀 I'm currently working on 3-5 fics but I'm also taking in requests!! Feel free to message me or Dm me~ Enjoy the teaser and watch out for the full fic in a week or two 💙

teaser posted: 05-18-23

MODEL CHOI YEONJUN RUMORED TO BE DATING WORLD-STAR IDOL HUH YUNJIN... AND MODEL JEON SOMI?

CHOI YEONJUN SEEN BAR HOPPING THREE NIGHTS IN A ROW IN ITAEWON

CHOI YEONJUN'S EXPLOSIVE EPISODE ON PAPARAZZIS. READ HERE !!!

BAD HABITS AND BAD ATTITUDE? INSIDER WHO WORKED WITH CHOI YEONJUN SPILLS IT ALL!!

Seungjin's eyebrows meet at the middle as his forehead starts showing lines and wrinkles, obvious dissatisfaction etched on his face. His fingers were rubbing his temples out of frustration while he continued to read article after article about their oh-so-beloved model, Choi Yeonjun.

The CEO sat at the end of the table, his back leaning on the chair while he reads along with Seungjin on his iPad.

Every article has been stating one common issue— Yeonjun's superiority complex and attitude problems.

The company already knew about this... issue, before the articles came to surface and has warned the young man every time.

He never listened.

Now here they are, reaping the consequences of the man's actions. They did all that they can to scold him, reprimand him, and even cover for him. Nothing ever stopped Yeonjun.

At the other end of the table, Yeonjun had his legs up on top of the meeting table and his back resting on the chair. His fingers brush his slicked back hair, making strands fall down his face.

The only sound you'd hear around the room was his loud chewing from his gum and his pen tapping.

The CEO, Shihyuk, let out a sigh, placing his iPad down. His elbows were perched on top of the table as he rested his chin on his hands that was clasped together.

“Yeonjun, I'm guessing you know why we've called you and Seungjin here today... Right?”

The young man raised an eyebrow, a small smirk forming on his face. He puts his feet back down on the floor and copied Shihyuk's posture on the table.

“I don't know Sir Bang. You tell me.” Yeonjun teased, “I've been nothing but the perfect role model as far as I can see!” He said sarcastically.

Shihyuk wasn't phased by him at all. A stern look remained on his face as he continues the conversation.

“We have been thinking of ways to better your reputation.”

“Oh? Do enlighten me, please.” Yeonjun held himself back from rolling his eyes. He has heard things like these more than a hundred times already. “It's not like most of those articles are fake and heavily fabricated.”

He was confident that his company would cover for him or would keep shut.

On the contrary, Shihyuk and the PR team has seen the increase of negative articles towards the model. They knew that keeping quiet or finding a cover up will not work anymore.

Shihyuk cleared his throat, a small smile creeping on his face. It was his turn to be smug.

“We have decided to send you to University.”

Every ounce of confidence that was evident on Yeonjun's face immediately disappeared. His eyebrows immediately furrow while his jaw prominently clenching.

“What. The. Fuck.”

TBC.

NOTE: Characters presented do not represent anyone mentioned in the story. This is a work of fiction and is not real.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Come Now, Little Duke | The Good Stuff

Okay, so if you can't tell I've been going through some of your stories again and catching up on updates and asdfjlk you're such an amazing writer! The personality you give the characters is so good it makes me want to scream and your prose? *chef's kiss* Is it alright if I hit you with another prompt? You've written a lot of Janus comforting Roman (which I love), but I just got caught up in Come Now, Little Prince (I think it just might be my favourite of your stories) and Janus comforting Remus filled my heart in ways I can't describe. Could we get more of our favourite danger noodle comforting, protecting, and being possessive of the trash rat? – twoalpacas

Read on Ao3

Warnings: gunshot, blood loss, passing out from injury, mentions of being on heavy painkillers/drugs

Pairings: dukeceit

Word Count: 1420 (it's what he would've wanted.)

Remus had never seen Janus fight before. That's why he's there—to get hurt for him, to do the dirty work, to pull the necessary levers and little administrative violences. But Janus was a breathtaking fighter. If Remus hadn't already been clocked rather hard on the head, dazed and on the ground, ready to pass out, he might have swooned at the sight.

The attackers dropped.

Janus was at his side in an instant, expression intent.

"You don't like getting your hands dirty," he slurred.

"I don't like losing my best operative either. Don't worry, I'll get you to clean the blood off my hands on your knees when you're not dying," Janus said, still a little too concerned to be his normal unflappable self, "restore the order of the universe."

Remus snorted and regretted it. Wounded was not good for laughing.

"Come on, then," Janus said, grunting as he slid an arm under Remus's back, "these new clothes are coming out of your budget if you can't get them clean."

An order was an order. He gritted his teeth and hauled himself up, an injured hand pressing against the gunshot wound. An involuntary hiss through his teeth as pain ravaged his limbs followed by a moment of surprise as Janus's body pressed warm and solid against his side.

"Stay awake until we get to the car," he muttered as they slowly made their way through the carnage, "then you can pass out."

Get to the car. Get to the car. Get to the car.

He was still conscious by the time they finally made it to the car, but Janus was practically dragging him to the door. Air passed weakly through his lips as he fumbled woozily for the door handle.

Janus's voice mumbled something but it sounded like it was coming through syrup. Pain fluttered like static across his field of vision and his head slipped down.

He opened his eyes.

A ceiling stared back at him. He blinked. Outside didn't have ceilings. He must be inside. But cars didn't have ceilings that looked like this. So they must be inside inside somewhere. Did he make it to the car? He hoped he made it to the car. Janus said to make it to the car.

"Good. You're awake."

Remus turned his head to see Janus pulling a chair up to the bed. He…how long had he been like this?

"You've been out for about an hour," Janus said, "welcome back."

Remus swallowed. His mouth felt like it was full of cotton. "Why…why'm I so…sthlow?"

"A combination of your injuries and the sedatives, plus the gauze in your mouth." Gloved hands reached up to pry it out, leaving his mouth slightly less cottony, but only slightly. He blinked slowly. Janus tutted and reached back up, brushing a bit of hair from his face and whistling lowly. "They got you good, huh? I've never seen so much blood all over your pretty face."

If Remus hadn't lost so much blood, he probably would've blushed.

"Wha—" he tried to swallow some of the cotton— "wha'd Doc say?"

"Let's just stick to the good news for now," Janus said darkly, "which is that you're not dying anymore."

Oh. That was good news. As Janus stood and turned away, he remembered something. He gritted his teeth and started to get up.

"And what," Janus said sharply, "do you think you're doing?"

Remus gestured weakly. "Your hands."

"And what about my hands?"

"'M supposed to clean them."

Confusion furrowed Janus's brow until he realized what Remus was talking about and he rolled his eyes. "Get back in the bed," he said, exasperated, "you're not out of the woods just yet."

Oh. A bed. Is that was he was laying on> But his bed didn't look like that. Or feel like that. His ceiling didn't look like that either. But orders were orders.

Janus had disappeared by the time he lay back down. He blinked, still slightly woozy. Blood loss, probably. Or the pain. But he couldn't feel much pain right now. That was bad, right? When you couldn't feel that it hurt?

"Don't shift around too much," Janus said lowly, sitting next to him again, "just because we've got you on the good stuff doesn't mean you won't do any more damage."

He stilled, lying there motionless, until Janus sighed and shifted.

"I've never seen you this quiet before," he said, "outside of a stakeout or when you're asleep."

Remus didn't say anything.

"Here." Janus turned his head gently so it lay facing him. "There's still blood on you."

Remus just blinked as Janus started to dab at his forehead with a tissue. His brow was drawn in concentration, his gaze on his work. He caught Remus looking and raised an eyebrow.

"Yes?"

Remus blinked. Several expressions flickered across Janus's face and he dropped the tissue.

"What is it?" he barked. "Tell me what hurts, right now. Did they wear off already?"

"'M sorry."

"Don't apologize, just tell me what hurts. Did you pull your stitches out?"

"'M sorry, Boss."

Janus paused, gaze darting all over Remus's face, before he reached out and cupped his cheeks in his hands. "Tell me what you're sorry for," he instructed softly, "and then tell me why you're crying."

Crying? Remus was crying? Oh. That was bad. This was wrong. Janus wasn't kind to him. Janus wasn't gentle with him. He was only kind and gentle when he was lying or when he wanted something. Maybe that was why he was being kind and gentle right now, because Remus did so bad.

"I did bad," he mumbled, voice catching and hiccupping a few times, "I—I did bad."

"What did you do," Janus asked, hands still warm on his face, "what was bad?"

"Y' said 'good stuff,'" Remus managed, "good stuff's only for…for when it's bad and—and if it's bad then I did bad. I did bad."

Janus's eyes widened. That was bad too, right? Yes. If he did bad then that meant it wasn't good and if it wasn't good then Janus would be mad and if Janus was mad then that was bad.

"Oh, you poor thing," he heard distantly before the warm hands were on his torso, "come on, now, up you sit. Sit up, just like that, that's it."

He couldn't breathe properly. Why couldn't he breathe properly? Breathing hurt. Breathing wasn't supposed to hurt. If he did so bad that breathing hurt then Janus would be really mad.

"Easy, now." Something warm settled on his abdomen. "Slow in down. Nice and easy, come on, relax."

But Janus was mad—

"I'm not mad, sweetie," the gentle voice said, "calm down, now."

The gentle voice began to lull him, breathing becoming less and less like dragging himself over razor wire and more like just inhaling and exhaling. The warmth settled on his face again.

"I expect my agents to fear me," he heard distantly, "but not like this. I don't like seeing you like this. If you're ever like this again, you come and you find me, do you understand? I'll make it better."

Remus blinked.

"…you can't understand a word I'm saying, can you?" The warmth passed over his face. "You poor thing. Oh, you poor, sweet thing…"

Remus let out a whimper as he was moved.

"Shh, shh, it's alright now. No more thinking for you right now. You go to sleep while the drugs wear off, okay?"

S-sleep? He could sleep?

"Yes, you can sleep. It's okay, just fall asleep whenever you need to. I have you." Something soft and slightly damp pressed against his forehead. "I'll look after you for now."

The last thing he thought he felt was something warm and wet cleaning the blood from his hands.

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv  @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance@whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti@ultrageekygirl

[pardi-real]

Judgment by Fallen Angel - SSR Lato Card Story

Chapter 1 - Lato's Choice

※ A notice before reading the Butler Story This story contains spoilers for the "Judgment by Fallen Angel" event story. It is recommended to read up to Chapter 12 of the event story before proceeding. If you wish to avoid spoilers, please return by pressing the button in the upper left corner.

Several days after the opening night at the theater... The butlers were once again diligently rehearsing for the next performance.

Click

> "How are you doing, guys?"

Fennesz: "Ah, my lord. Did you come to check on us? Fufu… thank you for making the effort."

In the dance practice room, Lato and Miyaji were present, but Berrien was nowhere to be seen.

> "Is Berrien still working?"

Fennesz: "N-No… actually..."

Miyaji: "Berrien strained his throat. Just to be safe, he's resting in his room."

> "What!? Is he okay?"

Miyaji: “Yeah, don't worry. It's probably because he overdid his lines-reading practice. It's not that serious, so he should recover soon if he rests."

> "That's a relief..."

Lato: "Come to think of it, Mr.Berrien… has been practicing every day without fail."

Fennesz: "Yeah... And on stage, he always needs to speak louder than usual."

Miyaji: "True. He's probably just worn out."

> "Will he make it in time for the next performance?"

Miyaji: "No... As a precaution, I'll have him rest for the next performance only. The show must go on. It's better for him to take a break and focus on recovering."

> "But who will play Berrien's role...?"

Miyaji: "Yeah, we were just discussing that. Normally, we'd find a replacement, but... It's too late to have someone memorize the lines now. So, I have a suggestion... How about combining the roles of the two fallen angels who defend humanity into one?"

Fennesz: "But won't that... increase Mr. Miyaji's lines significantly? As for me, I remember everyone's lines in my head, it's better for me to take the role instead…”

Miyaji: "No, Fennesz. I'd like you to rewrite the script for three characters. Since you wrote the script, you're the most suitable for that job."

Fennesz: “I-I see... Understood. Then I'll... do my best to make it easier for Mr. Miyaji."

Miyaji: "Yeah, thank you."

Lato: "Um, Prof. Miyaji."

Miyaji: "Hm? What is it, Lato?"

Lato: "If it's about Mr. Berrien's replacement... I'd like to give it a try too."

> "Huh...?"

Fennesz: "Lato... as Mr. Berrien's replacement?"

Lato: "Because... I feel like I'd get tired of playing the same role all the time. Since it's a rare opportunity, I'd like to try a different role."

Miyaji: "Hmm... I see…"

Fennesz: "B-but Lato... Can you memorize all of Mr. Berrien's lines starting now?"

Lato: "No, I don't memorize lines to begin with. I just say whatever comes to mind at the moment."

Fennesz: “N-now that you mention it..."

> "But it's amazing how he's still doing so well..."

Fennesz: "True, the opening night went smoothly despite that... Um... What do you think, Mr. Miyaji?"

Miyaji: "Well... If Lato wants to do it, I'd like to respect his wishes. I've performed various plays with him before... and I believe in his ability. Lato, you must be suggesting it because you think you can do it, right?"

Lato: "Yes. Since you're coming to watch, my lord... I want to show you a splendid performance."

Fennesz: "I see... I understand. So, please leave the script adjustments to me. I'll rewrite it so it doesn't feel forced with three characters."

Miyaji: “Yeah. If anything happens, I'll do my best to do a follow-up.”

Fennesz: "Thank you. Then, can I leave the role to you, Lato?"

Lato: "Kufufu... Thank you both for entrusting me."

Miyaji: "Of course. I believe in your ability to pull it off, Lato. Besides, It should be a good experience for you… playing a role with different values from your own."

> “Break a leg, Lato"

Lato: "Yes. My lord, please look forward to the next performance."

And so, Lato took on Berrien's role...

Until just before the next performance, the three of them practiced diligently.

~~~

On the day of the performance...

I was in the audience, anxiously waiting for the start time. There weren't any problems during rehearsals, but...

Would it really go well during the actual performance?

> (I hope it all goes well...)

As I prayed for that… The curtains finally rose on the stage.

…………

Fennesz: "………… Sigh..."

Lato: "Oh? What's wrong, Mr. Fennesz? Looking down at the ground with such a sigh…" 

Fennesz: "Lato... Look at that. Humans on the ground are at war again."

Lato: "Yes… It seems so."

Fennesz: "Even at this moment, angels are trying to destroy humans... Why can't they cooperate with each other?"

Lato: "Kufufu, the reason is simple... They're just like ants. You can tell from observing from above."

Fennesz: "Huh... A-ants?"

Lato: "Yes. Ants form colonies and often go to war with other colonies. Humans, ants... Perhaps it's the fate of living beings to fight among their own kind."

Fennesz: "Uh... I see... But even so... It's starting to feel more and more pointless. We've been fighting for so long to protect humans from angels..."

> (That was an improvisation, wasn't it…) > (I wonder if everything will be okay...)

From then on, Lato interjected ad-lib lines here and there… But thanks to Fennesz and Miyaji's follow-ups... there were no interruptions in the performance.

The audience didn't seem to notice anything amiss… There were no jeerings like during the opening night, and the play continued without a hitch… And finally, we reached the climax.

Chapter 2 - Lato's Choice

Miyaji: “I never desired to rule over humanity to begin with. They and I are on the same page when it comes to ‘the survival of humanity’."

Fennesz: "Yes... I agree. I have been given this power... I want to use it not only for myself... But also for those who are more important to me."

Lato: "Yes... It seems like we've reached a conclusion. We will continue to..."

As the play neared its end... I felt somewhat relieved, and while I was watching Lato's performance... Suddenly, our eyes met on stage.

Lato: "............"

> (Lato?)

Audience: "Hm...? What's wrong? Did he forget his lines...?"

Miyaji: "We will continue to protect humanity from now on... Right, Lato?"

Lato: "I'm sorry, Prof. Miyaji. But I really can't lie."

Miyaji: "Lie...?"

Fennesz: "Lie? What do you mean? You're not planning to say something like 'humanity would be better off perishing’ again, are you?"

Lato: "No, that's not my intention. I will protect humanity... But I just don't agree with 'equality'."

Fennesz: "Equality...?"

Lato: "Yes. Because even I want to freely choose whom to protect. For me, the value of life is not equal. Risking my life for people who don't matter to me is foolish. This life of mine... exists to protect those who are important to me."

Lato declared clearly on stage, while looking into my eyes: "I will abandon those who are worthless to me” ...

Even in a performance, those are such heavy words, for a devil butler who's stronger than humans. I could feel the unprecedented tension among the surrounding audience members.

> (W-what do we do...?)

After a few heavy seconds of silence, Miyaji spoke up.

Miyaji: "Yeah... That's fine. Sometimes, we may be forced to make such choices. Just because we have slightly more power than others... It's presumptuous to think we can save all of humanity. Since we can't save everyone... What we can do is... Make an effort to save as many lives as possible. And... Choose the lives that should be saved... It's about saving many 'precious lives'."

The tension among the nearby nobles seemed to ease slightly by Miyaji's words. It seemed like they interpreted the phrase "precious lives" as referring to themselves.

Miyaji: "Well then... Lato's conclusion is no different from ours. We will continue to protect humanity..."

Fennesz: "Well, even if they… hate us."

Lato: "Kufufu... Isn't that fine? Even if we're hated... there are already people who understand us. As long as there are people like that among humanity... We will never betray them...."

Fennesz: "........You're right. I guess that's enough for me, for now."

Miyaji: "Yeah. And one day, others will understand too. We believe that the sacrifices we've made for humanity will someday be worth it..."

Lato: "Yes. Let's pledge to continue protecting humanity from now on."

The curtains closed along with Lato's words on the stage. Applause and praise erupted from the relieved audience. As the play ended... After waiting for everyone in the audience to leave, Lato approached me and spoke.

Lato: "How was it, my lord? Watching from the audience... Did you enjoy it?"

> "There were so many ad-libs, it was nerve-wracking"

Lato: "I see. It seems we managed to not make it boring. Kufufu... It was also refreshing to me to play a different role from last time. And... While portraying Mr. Berrien's character... I felt like I understood his feelings even more now."

> "Berrien's feelings?"

Lato: "Yes. Mr. Berrien was... suffering because of the secret he kept from us, right? When I learned about it... I couldn't understand why he was suffering so much. If you only have the power to save one person... Isn't it natural to choose someone important to you? Sacrificing others for that person is inevitable. There's no need to feel guilty…"

> "But now you understand his feelings?"

Lato: "About that...  …… I was able to think this scenario 'If I were in Mr. Berrien's position' once again. 'Being able to save only one person' might be crueler than 'being unable to save anyone'. 

Because you feel responsible for the deaths of many people in exchange for saving one life. 

Unlike before... I now have... others I care about, besides Alec. And when the time comes to choose only one from among them... I think I would suffer like Mr. Berrien did.

In order to save the life of one important person... It means choosing the life of the other loved ones to die…"

> "Lato..."

Lato: "What would you do, my lord? Between me, Flure, and Prof. Miyaji... If you could only save one... Who would you choose? And... Whom would you let die…"

> "That's..."

I didn't know how to answer Lato's question... I want to cherish the butlers... So even in a hypothetical scenario, I couldn't carelessly give an answer. But Berrien had been forced into such choices multiple times in reality. Thinking about it... I felt uneasy all over again.

Lato: "Kufufu... I'm sorry, my lord."

> "Huh...?"

Lato: "Even though it's hypothetical, I ended up forcing you to make a difficult choice. But just by looking at your face... I feel like I know who you would choose."

> "R-really?"

Lato: "Yes. I feel like I understand you more than anyone else does. Well, even if you chose someone else... I would surely choose you."

> "Why..."

*Close-up* Lato: "Kufufu. That's needless to say, because I've decided that 'I will protect you.' Including Flure and Prof. Miyaji... And all the other butlers. I treasure them, of course... But I think everyone... Probably will choose the same as me."

> "I see..."

Lato: "Your well-being... We, the devil butlers, will protect it at all costs."

Despite Lato's gentle smile... I could sense his unwavering determination in his words. To protect me, even at the cost of his life... Responding to his determination... I'd do anything to save Lato. Once again, that feeling grew stronger.

END

[flashfuture]

Since I've been on it I wanna talk about Hal's parents. Cause I've seen some dislike for Geoff Johns take on them. But they didn't really, Jessica especially, exist before then. I feel like some people read the comic where Hal in hysterical grief over Coast City made a construct of his parents and then went off to kill all the Lanterns and Guardians and said yep that is exactly how his parents were.

But let's get into it. Martin and Jessica Jordan. For further context, the sibling order is Jack, Hal, Jim Jordan. Three boys. And it was sort of implied for years that they were Jewish and got confirmed not too long ago that Jessica is Jewish and Martin is Catholic. Hal was a grown man in the 80s. His childhood took place in the 50/60s. And before that he was a grown man in the 60s meaning his childhood was the 40s/50s. That absolutely influenced the type of life he had. Vs the further in time we drag this out the less natural it becomes to have super strict parents.

So to begin the first physical appearance of Martin Jordan comes in 1989 in Green Lantern: Emerald Dawn #1. This is a post crisis pre zero hour story so any events in this particular time window are wildly subject to change

Martin is a test flight pilot. He's Hal's hero. His plane goes down. Hal watches. This sequence of events stays consistent across every time line including Flashpoint which is you know fascinating.

"Hal got fired today-- and he got his mom to call up and beg for him."

"Talk about my father again Biff and I'll rip your lungs out."

In this version of events, we get a mention of Jessica. She's not named and doesn't appear. So you can tell she was brought up purely for a 'Hal is so irresponsible he needs his mommy's help' bit. Hal and Jack get along though and are violently defensive of their father. Hal also catches a drunk driving charge after this.

Speaking of drunk I know there's a comic out there where Martin is described as a drunk which I could not for the life of me dig up again but that's mentioned all of once so I just ignore it. What's with making test pilots drunks???

Anyways Green Lantern: Emerald Dawn is definitely not my favorite Hal Jordan story and I'm glad it's been mostly retconned out minus the very beginning parts with Martin.

(Green Lantern vol 3 #36)

"So you're back to flying planes, huh?"

"Dad's blood still runs through my veins, I guess."

This Christmas special in 1993 took place before Coast City exploded. Hal took Carol out to Jack's house to spend the holiday with the Jordan family. Hal directly attributes flying to his dad's influence.

Now Green Lantern vol 3 #48. Hal is standing in the ruins of Coast City not a soul left and he conjures an image of his parents. Reminder they are entirely Hal's imagination and again he is just about hysterical right now.

"I looked up to you. I worshipped the ground you walked on, or flew over. I wanted to grow up and be you... which probably has a lot to do with who I am now. Growing up, though, I never felt like you... I don't know thought that much of me."

As we saw Hal's dad died when he was Maybe ten. His little brother and older brother didn't have real accomplishments in elementary school. Jack the DA and Jim helping the campaign and having a family that's all modern. Stuff Martin would have never known about. Martin the pilot getting on Hal's case for having his head in the clouds? Really seems like Hal is the one he could have related to the most. Martin getting on Hal about not saving the city just proves Hal is projecting his worries about disappointing his dad onto his dad and then because he's so hysterical with grief forces himself to rewatch his dad dying.

Absolutely completely irrational state of mind he's in right now. At the end of this issue, he's going to fly off into space to kill all the Lanterns and the Guardians.

And then he summons Jessica. Calling her mother instead of mom is just really funny to me like informal with his strict dad formal with his chill mom. Lmao? Jessica only speaks on Martin. Reminding Hal of the good times they had. She's Hal's memory which which means Hal heard the story of dressing up as Santa he remembers his dad's aftershave. Summoning your mom just to talk about your dad is crazy work btw

Again Hal was so young when his dad died. Not a teenager not even close. What was Martin disappointed about? Maybe Hal who can't keep a job a girl or half his friends (Barry died and all super friends ditched him basically) is projecting backwards into time. And assumes his Dad would be disappointed in him.

"Personal gain? This is about personal loss!"

Personal loss and Hal's spent most of his time summoning his long dead father. He really never got over Martin dying and that's so apparent. Anyways this is where Hal decides to go into space and kill everybody. Seeing his dad taken from him one more time made him snap.

Hal is enamored with his father. Whether their relationship was tough or easy it wasn't necessarily the point. The point is Hal Jordan loves his father to Oa and back more than the rest of his family probably understood. He didn't just want to impress his father he wants to be him.

And Zero Hour royally fucked up Hal's family but like idk let's just say Infinite Crisis fixed it. That's two reality shattering events. Why not give Hal a little treat of being his dad's favorite. No one seems to miss when Jack, Jim, and Hal all went to the same college and the same fraternity and were besties

[sammy8d257]

Did you know that in a recent video Alan made with DJ he confirmed that TSC, Green, Yellow, Red and Blue are around the ages of 10 to 12 years old. He also said that they are just really smart children. I really like that they just young kids, makes their mannerisms and child like behavior make more sense.

Hmmm... okay, I want to preface with saying that I'm happy you find joy in headcanoning the Color Gang to be 10 to 12 year olds. I'm glad you like thinking they're kids.

BUT

I've seen a lot of people use that clip of Alan saying they're 10 to 12 year old kids as canon. And like, frankly, I don't see how it can be.

(Goddamn, this is long as hell. Click on the "Keep Reading" if you want to see my entire rant but

TLDR;

It's fine if you see the Color Gang as kids in the range of 10 - 12, more power to you, but I don't see it as canon because it doesn't make sense to me and I personally can't relate to them. So I see them as young adults. )

First off, I honestly don't trust anything Alan has to say when it comes to what is or is not canon to the videos because Alan has said via his Members discord that there isn't any concrete "lore" for the characters and the world aside from a paragraph of personality traits for the Color Gang. While I myself, am not in the Discord, I have a friend who sometimes talks about stuff in there with me. A lot of the things story and lore things he and the team make up as they go. He will just say stuff without really considering previously establish canon.

(Trust me, I know. I've spent so much brainpower trying to connect the stick figure world together in a cohesive manner, its not even funny anymore aldkglsjsgs /lh)

No knock to Alan and his Team though. I understand that AvA/M is an on-going series with SO MANY videos to keep track of. It'd be hard to keep everything inline with lore if you don't have a dedicated keeper of it. But that's the reason why I take anything Alan says outside of the animations themselves, with a grain of salt.

SECONDLY,

Let's break down this "canon" scene shall we?

Actually, lets start a little bit before the scene, so everyone can get some context:

( https://youtu.be/Oz5mDcDK9I4?t=4668 )

The scene is Purple going off with King, to which DJ says:

DJ, voicing over King: Come on son, let's go

DJ, voicing over Purple: Bye guys! I'm gonna go hangout with my adopted dad. I'm 32.

[Alan and DJ laugh]

Alan: Maybe he is.

DJ: That'd be so weird if you find out all the characters are like in their 30s. [more laughs]

Alan: Yeah even though the internet hasn't been around that long.

DJ: Yeah, that's true. How old are they, like since their creation, I guess?

Alan: Huh, good question. ... 14?

DJ: 15? No...

Alan: Probably like 10, 12, 13,

DJ: Yeah, yeah. Which is cool because I feel like they act around then

[Alan laughs]

Alan: Yeah, they're just very smart children.

[END SCENE]

Just reading this, it looks like Alan confirmed that they're 10-13 year olds right?

Yeah if you ONLY look at this and not take into account the joking and non-serious tone both Alan and DJ had throughout this entire conversation. They like joking around and saying things. That's kinda their whole thing during their reacts. Alan is a more dead-pan but he was definitely making a lighthearted joke or comment playing off of the statement of them being 10.

Actually, lets go look at the question leading up to this.

"How old are they, like since their CREATION, I guess?"

Since their creation. AvA 4 is the video where Second and RYGB were first introduced and can serve as their creation date (assuming we're not taking about lore because while AvA 4 is Second's creation date, I'd argue the Stick Fighters were created prior and would in fact be older). AvA 4 premiered in 2014

Which is almost 10 years ago.

There is a high likelihood that both Alan and DJ were using the upload date of AvA 4 as the Color Gang's "creation date".

And if you want to headcanon a stick figure's age is how many years since their creation date, then more power to you.

To me that makes no sense because then that'd mean King is 2 years old. (AvM Parkour released April, 2021) Which is insane. alskdjglsjglsgd

I much prefer the idea that stick figures are created with an age in mind (baring the born stick figures like Purple).

And yeah, maybe Alan "intended" to make the Color Gang 10-13 year olds, but as I stated above, with how joking Alan and DJ were while discussing it plus Alan's whole thing about making things up as they go, I don't really believe it.

ALSO

Not to get too personal, but I just want to address something that's been bothering me with this whole thing.

The idea that because the Color Gang act childish = being children.

Because the sticks are heavily neurodivergent-coded

And as someone who is also neurodivergent, can act childish, see aspects of themself in these sticks, and is an ADULT.

Saying that people who act like this are children??

FUCKING SUCKS

Now I know, DJ, Alan, and probably even yourself Anon, don't mean any harm when you say the sticks act like children so they must be children.

But there is a LONG history of neurodivergent people getting infantilized because they display more "childish" behaviors like stimming or hyperfixating on specific topics.

So for at least me, someone who headcanons the Stick Figures as young adults, this who "age discourse" feels icky to me.

Plus, I personally can't relate to kids because I myself, am an adult. It's easier for me to relate to characters around my age range.

Listen, this rant is getting too long but here's the long and the short of it

There is nothing wrong with headcanoning the sticks as kids if that's what you want to believe that it's canon,

But it just ain't for me.

[gaslysainz]

Lost (PG10) pt.1

Summary: The world is utterly unfair. He was her most prized possession, her life, her first ever commitment of love. But to him, she was just a mere person lost in his big world.

warnings: ; unrequited feelings; Pierre is a douche , arrange marriage, angst, heartbreak.

Author's Note~ Heya guys! So I had put out a post about getting motivation to write something up, so thank you to all for commenting and encouraging me! Love You All 😘

Here's my first ever story for you guys. As soon as I finish this one, I'll start taking requests maybe! Till then please show your love and support for "LOST".

Journal Entry -1

LOVE....It's something that i have always yearned for.

Even if it's fake. A little bit of admiration, a simple compliment can make my day. 

It's been like this ever since my brother, Isaac Conti left the world. I started living with my step mother Annie Conti and my step sister Julia Conti. Yes, Isaac was my step sibling too but he never made me feel like i'm not his own sister.

My brother was the only one who actually loved me and admired me to the fullest in this family. My mother was an Indian and was forced to marry my father after she saved him from an accident when he was travelling in India. I was a part of a mistake. Ever since my maa died everyone except my brother treated me like shit. Even my father. 

But then i met him. My love of my life, the most important person in my life. My husband Pierre Gasly, the playboy of the F1 track!

Once again life played a merciless game with me. The man that i'm committed to, married to , bound by vows is in love with someone else. To be more clear he's in love with my sister Julia Conti.

How pathetic am i to have a life like this huh! We've been married for about 7 months now because that was my brother's last wish before leaving us. Pierre was his friend and he thought that getting me hitched would've been the best thing to do, but to think of it , it was his biggest mistake. He knew i've always had feelings for a certain blue eyed boy, thus, his decision, but what he didn't know was that Pierre has always been in love with my sister and married me only to get close to her. Pierre cleared everything out for me once we came back from the reception right after our wedding.

Now it's been a few days, two months to be exact that they've been dating , oh! and also sleeping around. What's sad is that i've caught them a few times during action in his bedroom. The only thing that i could do is simply go up to the terrace, look up to the sky and cry my eyes out calling out my Maa and my Brother. I don't blame Isaac for anything.  It's all my fate. 

I'm a pathetic excuse of a human as my husband likes to call me, who does not deserve anything in this world except for tears and sadness.

If you're wondering if Pierre had always been like this? Then let me tell you No! 

It all started after 1 month of our marriage when  he started talking to my sister more and giving her more attention. The lies that had been fed to him by my Step Mother and Step Sister about me is what he believed at the end of the day.

Life has always been a mockery for me. I am not allowed to speak to anyone, it's not like i have any friends to talk to. The only thing i am useful for is to tag along with Pierre to a few of his races or a few other important events as his trophy wife just cause it's an obligation.

No one really knows what happens in our life everyday, not even his grid mates. I'm sure it wouldn't have made any difference seeing they are his best friends. I'm not even allowed to talk to them even if i've seen them around at parties and races. I think my attitude has probably led them to think that i'm a snobby little bitch just like my Step sister. Oh yes! I do use bad words sometimes cause why not? I'm supposed to be able to do at least certain things in life right?

It's not like Pierre is going to read what i'm writing here? 

I've given up everything, every little dreams of mine, SO if you ask me if i think that Pierre is ever gonna love me back , then my answer is No!I would never even dream about thinking that he's gonna love me back.

But there's one person who always looks out for me, he's my only friend I suppose, and that's a certain ferrari driver with a charming smile that always lifts up my mood.

Anyways,I'll just sit aside and keep loving Pierre forever, even after he leaves me for my step sister after a year of our marriage. Just 5 more months to go. 5 more months to be with him. 5 more months to stay by his side as trophy wife when he goes out for parties and races. 

His world is a big one. Where he has got his grid mates, his family, his fans, his work people , my step sister even my step mom...... Everyone except for good ol' me....

I, Mrs. Y/n Gasly is just a LOST case in his big world...

Let's see where the upcoming 5 months take us....

PS - Please lemme know what do you think about LOST and also let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list ❤️