#fandom doesn’t seem like the right word somehow

[an-architect-of-words]

I’ve been in The Secret History fandom for three days and one of my favorite things is that everyone seems to look at each other, nod, and go “this would be an awful movie.”

[intrepidacious]

bring your hunger

summary: There is a Witcher in your house.

pairing: geralt of rivia x succubus!reader

word count: 2k

warnings: smut (18+ only!!), light dubcon due to demon magic, penetrative sex (p in v), some biting and choking 😌 please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: somehow it's been over a year since i posted a full fic but one ao3 writer's curse later here we are. whole new fandom. i've also never written smut until this show rewired my brain so bon appétit (please be kind). my biggest love to @aphrogeneias and @brandycranby who both let me complain about this story for about three months, i adore you!!

masterlist | read on ao3

There is a Witcher in your house.

You smell him long before you lay your eyes on him, the stench of his magic permeating the forest, harsh and acrid. Somewhere in the woods nearby, something is burning.

For a moment, you hesitate, considering your options. A lesser creature would’ve turned on the spot and run, would’ve stolen a horse in the nearby town and gotten as far away as possible, and maybe you should be doing the same. Forsake your home and this region and try to forget them to save your neck.

But your instincts are never wrong, and right now they are drawing you closer, one cautious step in front of the other, until your door creaks open.

He’s sitting in your chair, turned to the side to have a clear view of the entrance. He is propped up against the dining table, his matted white hair sticking to his forehead. The air is heavy with the smell of blood and sweat. Whatever happened across him managed to get him good; he seems to have bandaged himself up, somehow, but the gashes in his chest look painful.

He stares at you, frown deepening on his face, but he stays very still. There is a dangerous look in his amber eyes, full of fire and fury, and for some reason, that doesn’t scare you. Not at all.

Gods, you’re hungry.

There’s a steady pulse of power coming from him, muted but incessant, like his body’s not ready to drop the fight quite yet. He doesn’t, however, reach for the weapons he’s carelessly dropped on your good carpet.

So instead of fleeing, you draw the door shut behind you and you tilt your head.

It’s stronger now, the smell of your own powers. You don’t think it holds as much sway over Witchers as it would do over mere mortals, but it’s still enough for him to white-knuckle the edge of the table.

"I know what you are," he grits.

The low timbre of his voice makes you grin.

"That makes us even, then." You get closer to him, gingerly stepping over his swords. "Are you going to do something about it?"

His nostrils flare a little, but apart from that his face stays unreadable. Only his eyes betray him, still trained on your lips. He can’t help himself.

"I don’t kill your kind," he says.

"How generous of you." You come to a halt between his legs, reaching out to tilt his chin towards you.

He lets you, and there’s the slightest hint of amusement hidden at the corner of his mouth. From up close, the fire in his eyes burns even brighter.

"Let me show my appreciation," you say lowly.

His scent changes ever so slightly with the first small spike of his arousal. It sends a thrill of anticipation through you.

Your fingers trail down his throat, along his broad shoulders, down the taut muscles of his back, leaning into him even more. His hands fall to your hips, almost involuntarily. Slowly, unhurriedly, you let your nose brush against his and he inhales with a shudder.

This is always your favourite part. The final moments before they give into their desire, your meal prepared and served up on a silver platter, ready to indulge in.

"Don’t," he says, barely a warning.

"Don’t what?" You can feel his breath against your smile.

"Don’t tease."

"No?" He’s got remarkable restraint, this Witcher; but you can hear his racing heart. "Alright then."

And between one moment and the next, you let your clothes disappear.

It’s a simple trick, one that everyone of your kind can do as easily as blinking, but it’s never failed you. His eyes turn even darker as he realizes what you’ve done, as you move back a little to let him take you in. You lick your lips as another waft of his arousal reaches your nose.

Delicious.

"Is that better?" you whisper, tipping your head to the side.

He doesn’t reply. He pulls you towards him sharply, and then his mouth crashes against yours, hard and sudden. One of his hands grabs your ass, hauling you into his lap while the other one cradles the nape of your neck.

It’s a brutal kiss, divinely ferocious. Your naked core brushes over the noticeable bulge in his pants and he groans. You move your hips back and forth, just enough friction to make his fingers curl, nails biting into your skin.

This, you think, this is just what you’ve been craving. This sense of presence, of awareness. Your heartbeats growing faster. Pulling, tasting, wanting. More.

You only break the kiss to undo his belt, and he chases after your lips, hazy, starving.

You can relate.

He is already rock hard when you pull him out of his pants, ready and leaking. He pushes into your touch, raw need taking over.

You let out an appreciative hum, positioning yourself in his lap, careful not to put too much pressure on his chest. You want him to feel good, after all, no: you need him to.

You haven’t been sated in so long.

"Witcher," you chuckle breathlessly as his arms tighten around you, caging you against his body. "Aren’t you supposed to kill wicked, evil things like me?"

He growls, sinking his teeth into your shoulder. You gasp as he drags his tongue over the bite marks immediately; like he’s savouring your taste, too.

When he looks up at you again, his eyes are like molten embers.

Your hand tangles in his hair and you yank his head back to kiss him again, swallowing the sound he makes when you sink down on him, and it’s a pity, really, because you could get your fill from that alone. It’s delectably salty and bitter.

Finally, he’s fully inside you, and he tilts his hips to allow you a better angle as you start moving.

"So good for me," you murmur.

He slaps your hand away when you try to slip it between your bodies, and then his own fingers find your clit, gently teasing at first, but quickly applying more pressure. You gasp, your walls clenching around his cock.

He lets out a breathless huff. "There, huh?"

"That’s it. Just like that."

It’s too much. Your breaths quicken as the air around you starts to hum and crackle with building energy. It’s making your head swim, each precise stroke to your clit bringing you closer to that edge you’re chasing.

His mouth still trails along your neck, nipping there. Your skin already feels sticky with sweat and magic as you’re hurled ever closer to the peak of your arousal.

Just as the tension in your core gets tight enough to snap, he stills completely. His cock is fully sheathed inside you, but he doesn’t move, his arms around you hard and unyielding, not even allowing a single roll of your hips. Something between a whine and a growl escapes your lips as your canines come down hard enough to draw blood.

The Witcher smiles at you hazily. "Do you want to come, little demon?"

You want to bite him. You want to suck out his energy until he’s nothing more than a sad, empty husk.

Your snarl only brings out a dark glint in his eyes, and his hand moves to your neck, forcing you to hold his gaze. His grip tethers you in your denied pleasure.

"Ask nicely," he says lowly, brushing his lips against yours.

Wicked, evil man.

Underneath your skin, your powers are brimming with unease, not yet refilled, not yet repleted; he knows this. You know he knows, and yet you’re unwilling to give in. "Or what?"

His grin widens just a fracture as his chin juts out in unmatched arrogance. You could burn it off his face. You could dig your claws into the gashes in his chest and widen them even more, feast on his blood instead.

"I know you need it," he says. His cock twitches inside you. "Beg."

A shiver goes down your spine, hot and cold at the same time.

You don’t beg. Ever. You don’t yield control, not even for your meal, especially not to someone like him. But then he expertly applies pressure to your throat and your eyes roll back in your head, all thoughts lost to the thick haze of your desire.

"Please," you whimper, clenching around him again. "Please fuck me."

He groans, hips stuttering into yours involuntarily before he moves in earnest, keeping his hand on your throat. It’s almost agonisingly slow at first, one roll of his hips almost letting him slip out of your cunt completely before he pushes back in with one single, firm stroke.

Your startled cry of pleasure gets stifled by his mouth, coaxing, biting, until your claws dig into the thick muscles on his shoulders. The arm around your back guides your movement, pressing you even closer to his body than before as he picks up the pace of his thrusts, each one hitting that perfect spot inside you over and over.

You’re so close. You can already taste the precipice, black stars dancing along the edge of your vision.

Another moan rips out of you when you come apart for air, mouths open. "That’s it," he pants, watching you through half-lidded eyes, "Come for me."

His voice cracks with rapture, and it’s that more than the feeling of his own climax that sends you over the edge.

This part of your nature never gets old: As the orgasm rushes through you, the pent-up energy surrounding you snaps like lightning, funnelling into your body like an invisible current until you shudder blissfully with your appetite sustained. Your magic crackles around you, dancing on your burning skin like sparks of fire.

You hum appreciatively, your eyes still closed as you take a moment to collect yourself. This day has taken a pleasantly surprising turn, after all. It’s been too long since you’ve felt so thoroughly sated.

However, when you try to move out of his lap, the Witcher’s grip on you tightens decisively.

"Is that it?"

Your eyes fly open.

He is breathing heavily, but despite his loss of blood and the energy you’ve pulled from him, there’s not a trace of exhaustion to be found. He still has that same dangerous twinkle in his gaze. Fire and fury. Something lurches in your stomach.

"I thought your kind’s supposed to be insatiable," he says, leaning in to nuzzle at your collarbone. His medallion bumps against your breasts with a sharp vibration as his fingers trail down your side, a slow, torturously delicate touch. "You can give me one more."

It’s not a question. Still, the hands parting your legs even further are almost as gentle as they are relentless. A light press to your overstimulated clit has you keen, spasming around his cock, and he chuckles lowly.

"Eyes on me."

You hadn’t even noticed they’d fallen shut again. You’re leaning heavily into him now, another wave of pleasure starting to build as the smell of his magic envelopes you.

He growls, moving both of you around so you’re spread open on your dining table, him leaning over you with a look that wants to devour you whole. Like you’re the one being served up for him to make a meal out of. Impossibly, he’s growing hard again as his deft hands coax you closer to your next release.

"Just one more."

It’s such an obvious lie, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You’re brimming with energy, dizzyingly replenished and yet still ravenous. The air is humming with it, the promise of more.

"Don’t lie to me, Witcher," you still gasp.

His smile is positively sinful. "You said it yourself. I’m just so generous."

You’re so full. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see his aura flickering with lust, rich and decadent and beautiful.

"In other words," he continues, his lips brushing your ear right as you reach your peak again. "We are just getting started."

this fic was brought to you by horny hyperfixations. reblogs and comments are what keep your local writers sustained!! if you want to see more of my writing, check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics to get notified whenever i post 💛

[buckys-wintersoldier]

Heated training | Steve Rogers

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 -> Avenger!Steve Rogers x Avenger!Female!Reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -> You’re training with Steve but when he is distracted and you push him down once again things become heated.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 2.364

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> (E) 18+, Minors DNI, smut, dry humping, semi public sex, tiny bit angst, fluff

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓 -> Hiiii! Could you write a Steve x reader where they’re training and she’s like having to tackle him and straddle him and he gets a boner and things get heated and ya know some smut and maybe the reader is Tony’s daughter and somehow word gets out that something happened and there’s some angst in there. Hope you’re okay writing this, thank you !!❤️ @myersmaniac

𝐀/𝐍 -> Thank you for the request and hope you like what I made with it.

𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 -> Fandom-Free Bingo: Book Night | N1 | semi private sex | @fandom-free-bingo | MCU Kink Bingo | N3 | Free Square | @mcukinkbingo

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

It’s nothing new that the tall and muscular super soldier has a huge crush on you. He always takes care that his hair looks good and that he is shaved, loving the moments you look at him with a smile on your lips. The way you talk to him, when you need to look up because you’re so small compared to him. It’s at least nothing new to him that he is in love with you; he can’t even remember for how long he has already been in love with you, but he doesn’t dare tell you or anybody else something about it. Not only because you’re Tony Stark's daughter, but also because he doesn’t want to ruin things the two of you have — the wonderful friendship he appreciates.

Steve loves to work with you, spend time with you, or just be close to you. Also, when he can’t touch you in the way he would like to do it, even when he can’t feel your lips all over his body or just cuddle with you in the way he would like, he still enjoys when the two of you laugh and spend time together. Whenever you look at him with those shining eyes and the most adorable and sweet smile on your lips, he loves to hear you laugh, especially when he is the reason for it. He could look at you for hours, admiring you.

“Rogers! Concentration! Otherwise, she tackles you down immediately, again.”

He rolls his eyes over Nat’s comment, even though she is right. You have tackled him down in just a short time since he seems too deep in his thoughts today. He doesn’t really train; it’s more staring at you, trying to grip your wrists before you throw him down, but he often fails to grip your wrists and lands on the ground in no time. Steve’s cheeks are red, and sweat runs all over his face and along his neck. His broad chest and defined abs are covered in sweat as well, his skin softly glistening in the light of the training room.

“Yeah- yeah,” he says, rolling his eyes before he grips your fist and tries to push you down.

But Steve gets distracted by your lips — your beautiful plumb lips, which are slightly parted — and your eyes, which shine like the stars at night. He gets lost in your eyes, and a moment later he feels the mattress underneath his back. You’re sitting on top of him with a big smirk on your lips. You don’t miss the way he looks at you — the way his eyes are focused on your lips and his eyes are slightly darkened. You feel a tingle on your skin when he touches you, but you try not to focus on it during training; otherwise, you both would just stare at one another.

“Sorry guys, Clint is calling. You both don’t mind me picking up?” Natasha asks, already walking out of the door.

Steve, and you look after her. When the door shuts, Steve tries to wiggle you off of him, trying to turn the two of you around, but you grip his fists and press them above his head into the mattress. Moving a bit on top of him to have a better position to hold him in place.

“What stole your concentration today, huh?” You ask, raising your eyebrows.

“N—nothing,” he replies breathlessly, trying to free his hand out of your tight grasp.

You narrow even more and cause your nose to slightly scrunch. Steve chuckles, using the moment of your confusion to free his hands, and tries once again to turn the two of you around. Steve thrusts his hips up, his hands finding their way to your hips. His fingers dig into the fabric of your pants, holding it tightly before he lifts you up. But he hasn’t thought you would jump and let yourself fall down back on him, landing perfectly on his growing bulge in his pants and causing both of you to moan.

Steve's eyes widen immediately, and thoughts run through his mind to find an excuse why his dick is hard. When you look into his wide eyes, you’re just as big as his, gasping about the sudden feeling between your thighs.

“F— Sorry,” he mumbles, blushing slightly.

“Why do you have your phone? No, your keys are in your pocket?” You ask, confused, why he thought of putting it out of his pocket before you two started the training.

“I— That’s not my phone nor my key,” he admits quietly.

You narrow, tilting your head slightly to the side, until you realize what’s pressing against your soaked pussy. It doesn’t feel bad at all, but you didn’t know he felt that way for you, or at least he wouldn’t get a hard on during training. But you straddle him for a few minutes already, so it’s understandable that he gets hard when he is attracted to you and when you move in his cock.

You slowly move your hips, feeling his length rubbing against you. Maybe you should get off of him, but it feels too good to do so, so you’re moving slowly, looking deep into his eyes while you wait for Steve to stop you from grinding against him when he doesn’t like it. But he gasps and digs his finger more into your covered skin, helping you grind on his cock.

“Princess, we—we can’t.”

“Why not? Don’t you like it?” You ask, pouting while you stop your movements on his growing dick.

“I love it— I—I love you, but—“

His eyes widen even more when he realizes what he just said. His cheeks heat up, and he opens his mouth to form an apology, but there is nothing he has in mind to say. He’s adorable when he is shy and slightly embarrassed — not that you like seeing him embarrassed around you, just that his lips are slightly parted, his blue eyes look so lovely but at the same time unsure, and his red cheeks — just hot and cute at the same time. First he got hard while training, and now he told you he loves you; he would face palm himself when his hands wouldn’t be clued to your waist, not wanting to let go of you because you could move away from his cock.

Your smirk grows when you lean closer, your lips just an inch away from his, and you can feel his warm breath on your sweaty skin. Steve closes his eyes, inhaling deeply, before he lifts his head and breaks the distance between your lips. His soft, pink lips move perfectly against yours, and he licks over your lips to ask for access. You’re parting your lips, and you're deepening the kiss until both of you need to pull away to breathe deeply.

“I love you too. Please— I need you, Stevie,” you mumble, moving your hips harder on his covered cock.

Steve groans, throwing his head back and giving you more space to kiss and bite into the soft skin of his neck. You lick a strap along his neck, chasing him to close his eyes and thrust his hips up. His bulge presses more against your covered pussy, and you moan softly.

“Everyone could see us!” He breathes heavily, looking through his lashes at you.

You sit up and smirk when your hands slide over his broad chest, and you start moving your hips at a fast but steady pace over his dick. He is panting underneath you; with his hands, he helps you to move on top of him, pushing you further down to cause more friction.

“S—Steve, I’m so close,” you whimper.

The tip of his cock is hitting your clit with every thrust, and you push both of you closer to your edge. He didn’t know it could feel that good without being inside of you, but it does, and he is just as close as you.

“Tell me we’re going to get in your room and do it again; tell me you’re mine,” Steve says, slowing your hips down.

Pre-cum is soaking his pants, and he just wants to push you more on his cock and guide you over it to make both of you come, but he wants to hear that you’re his.

“So possessive, huh?” You ask, teasingly.”

His answer is just a harsh movement of his hips. You moan and throw your head back, trying to move faster, but he stops you with his grasp.

“S— Stevie. We can do it as often as you want; I’m yours— I’m all yours, but please let me come,” you whine.

Steve grins, moving your hips faster on his dick and bringing you closer to the edge. It doesn’t take long for the two of you until you’re coming, clenching around nothing while Steve is soaking his pants with his cum. You’re both breathing heavily and calming down from your high when you hear someone coming back into the room.

“G— What are you two doing, sitting like that and doing nothing?” Tony asks, narrowing.

Steve chuckles, nodding his head. Tony just wants to inform you that you are going to have a meeting, but seeing you on top of Steve, straddling him, wasn’t something he expected to see when he came into the training room. Actually, the two of you are always trying to tackle one another.

“Oke—“ he pauses, nodding his head and inhaling. “Meeting.”

With that, he leaves the room, and you laugh. Your brother’s expression was just too funny. You lean down, capture Steve’s lips, and kiss him softly.

“After the meeting, I’m all yours.”

“You’re already mine, but then we repeat that here without clothes.”

You then get off of Steve. The blond-haired man looks at the wet spot on his pants and smirks when he sees you staring at his covered cock. You both take a shower because you get ready for the meeting Tony told you about — next mission, which isn’t really interesting for you since you only have your eyes on one another.

Steve and you have been secretly dating for a few weeks now. You often spend time together, which isn’t new to see for the others. Even when you smile in another way, your gazes are different — happier — but no one really asks about it. They are just happy that Steve and you are happy — still thinking you’re best friends.

When Tony asks you to come into his office because he wants to talk with you, you have a huge smile on your face. When you knock at the door and swing it open, you freeze immediately. Steve is sitting there in front of your father, who looks angry, and you swallow hard. The smile fades away, and you look slightly confused.

“Come in and close the door.”

You do as you’re told; you close the door behind you and walk toward the men, letting yourself fall down next to Steve on a chair. Tony looks at you before he moves to face Steve; he then points at the monitor on the desk in front of you.

When your father turns on the video, you gasp, your eyes widen, and your hands get sweaty. You hear Steve inhaling deeply next to you. He swallows hard and slides down in his chair. The video that Tony is showing of the two of you shows Steve and you making out on the floor before you pull him with you into your room.

You know Tony isn’t a friend of the men around you; he is protective and doesn’t want someone to hurt you. He already made your ex-boyfriend run away because he was afraid of Tony’s Iron Man suit walking without him inside the suit.

“D—Dad, I would say i—it’s not what it looks like what Steve and I did, but it is. B—“

“Rogers!” Tony says, his jaw clenching when he looks at your boyfriend.

“Tony, I—I don’t want to hurt her. I—I love her,” Steve says, reaching for your hand, but you pull away, afraid of what your father could say.

Steve sighs, looking down and inhaling deeply. He rubs his hands over his pants and sighs once again before he continues to speak.

“I would never do anything she didn’t want to. Tony, I love her.”

You smile softly, but your body is still tensed, and you don’t dare look at Steve. Tony nods, leaning back in his chair and tapping his fingers on the surface of his desk.

“Do you love him?” He asks, looking at you, and you nod, then he turns his face back to Steve. “When you hurt her, I will cut your balls off!”

Steve doesn’t know if he wants to smile or swallow hard, but he smiles, nodding and turning toward you. He places his hand in front of you, waiting until you place yours in his big one before he brings your hand to his lips and kisses your soft skin. Tony rolls playfully with his eyes, watching the two of you when you lean in to press your lips against Steve’s, soft and sweet.

"First, the gentleman an— Get a room!” Tony shouts, and you burst out laughing about the way he raises his eyebrows and grasps the surface of the table.

“We will,” you tell him, smirking when you get up and pull Steve with you.

With a wink at Tony, you make your way to the door of his office, leaving it. Before you can walk further through the floor, Steve pushes you against the wall behind you, attacking your lips with his.

“I love you so much, princess.”

“I love you too, Stevie.”

With that, he lifts you up and carries you into your bedroom, continuing what you have seen in the video Tony shows the two of you. And you’re glad he accepts what you have with Steve, because it’s special, and you’re happier than you ever have been since you've been with Steve. He treats you like a princess, like his perfect and sweet princess.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @kandis-mom @sergeantbarnessdoll @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @blackhawkfanatic @armystay89 @suz7days @etherealdisneyvillainness @felicitylemon @cjand10 @casa-boiardi @cevansbaby-dove @flstrawberry @capsbestgirl77@bookishtheaterlover7 @rogersbarber @sebastianstanisahotmf @pono-pura-vida @princesscore-angel

[solaarbeeam]

NEW KIDS ON THE BLOCK

windbreaker x gn!reader

warnings/cw: no warning, usage of Y/N and L/N

syn. - a new school and gang has come to town, the boys all have their respective opinions on it.

characters :: haruka sakura, hayate suo, umemiya hajime, togame jo

a/n:: been obsessed with this anime for a minute now but this is my first work in the fandom sooo lemme know if yall like it!! if i forgot a character or you wanna see more just lemme know what character you’d wanna see <33

side note, this fic is completely self indulgent because i know the usual shtick is ‘oh they protect you’ which of course nothing is wrong with that, but i also like it more when reader is also badass and can fight, so here we are!! pls enjoy 😊

HARUKA SAKURA

He had been sent to your home grounds on Umemiya’s orders, as a way to get to know the new gang in town. Rumors has it that this new gang is strong, and had a hand in orchestrating a raid on Zinc which has now left Zinc in a horrible position.

You already know how he feels about strength and what it means to be strong, so he would’ve checked it out by himself, but Umemiya had said to go with Suo and Nirei, and so here they are, about to cross over into your territory.

Once they pass the overhead bridge, he’s met with a school building, not all that bigger than Bofurin, with graffiti in some spots. On the front, there was a flag, a soft blue color with a sun, its rays moving in a spiral.

Sanshedo. Sun Shade. Interesting name, he thinks.

“Are you sure we can just waltz in here? Aren’t we gonna get in trouble if we just come in with no warning?” Asks Nirei, obviously shaking from the unfamiliar surroundings.

In Sakura’s opinion, who the hell cares? If it’s such a big issue, then this new gang can deal with it-

“Your friend is right, yknow? I could’ve said you were intruding and have our Head send a couple guys to deal with you three.”

He whisks around, taking in your features. From the style of boots you’re wearing to the look you’re giving him, Nirei, and Suo.

The very first thing he thinks, is pretty.

He blushes as soon as the thought comes to his mind.

“However, seeing the jackets you three have on, I’m not worried about starting problems. You guys are members of Bofurin, right? Windbreaker?”

He nods frantically, unsure as to why he’s so nervous. He’s not in a fight, and even when he is, all he feels is anticipation, only hints of nervousness, and excitement. Why is it different now?

Why is it so different with you?

He can feel Suo’s stare at his back, and he’d been inclined to look at him if it wasn’t for the way you just trapped him in place, unable to move.

“Cool hair, by the way. Also, Blondie, I like the clip and I like the earrings, eyepatch.”

“It’s Haruka Sakura, not just cool hair.”

But why did it feel so nice to hear that you think his hair is cool instead of weird or scary. What the hell is going on?

“Well, Haruka Sakura, the name’s L/N Y/N. Bofurin, welcome to Sanshedo.”

You throw your hands up to showcase the school behind you, the symbol of Sanshedo, god he needs to remember the name, shown on the back of your jacket.

“Also, I hear you’re strong, Sakura. Care for a friendly fight?” A sly grin makes its way on your face, and he can feel his lips curl up into a smile.

“You’re on, L/N.”

Somehow, this new gang doesn’t seem to be half bad after all.

HAYATO SUO

Hayato Suo has always been the type to play with his food. Not in a literal sense per se, but when it comes to fights.

He is very much intrigued when he sees you, very much multiple knuckles deep in a fight. The way you fought them was so mesmerizing to him, how you moved was so fluid and graceful.

Alas, he was on town patrol with Sakura and Nirei, so all good things must come to an end. Nirei shouts the word ‘intruder’, and in that same breath, you had finished the group of thugs.

“Oh shit, it’s Bofurin!”

The three of three stop, not knowing what to do. Kiryuu and Tsugeura fall in step behind them, all brandished on Sakura’s opposite sides.

Suo pauses, noticing the light blue color of your jacket. The pin on the jacket has a spiral, and from the side view, he can see glimpses of a design on the back of the jacket, not unlike their enemy-turned-friend Shishitoren.

He eyes you up and down, nothing that seems threatening in your stance or posture. How interesting.

Hayato Suo has always been a curious child.

“Yes, that would be us, and you are?”

Nirei looks up at him in exasperation. He pointedly ignores it.

“L/N Y/N of Sanshedo. We’re a new faction in town. Say, you’re Hayato Suo, right? Fancy a spar?”

Well, he has always been the curious type, and Umemiya has always told them that fights are conversations, so why not?

“Sure.”

Sakura splutters. He’s been trying to get a fight out of Suo for ages!

What can he say? You’re very pretty and very interesting, is there anything else he needs in order to make a connection?

HAJIME UMEMIYA

As the leader of Bofurin, he has a responsibility to all of the people, his family, under his jurisdiction. He has a duty to the townspeople as well.

Quite frankly, he’s had a lot of foresight, especially when it comes to a certain two-toned first year, but he could’ve never predicted this.

A new gang, thats apparently been in existence for a while now, only two years younger than the founding of Bofurin, and he sees this as his responsibility to go and check it out.

A poor oversight on his part, in his opinion.

He shrugs on his coat, making sure to let Tsubakino that him and Hiragi are heading out, and exists the Furin premises.

The minute he gets there, he sees a whole abandoned school building, but looks big enough to be mistaken for a mini-airport.

Outside, he sees a couple people wearing identical jackets. A light blue colored varsity jacket, with spirals etched into the buttons and a sun branded into the back of the jackets.

A sun? Interesting choice of mascots.

Hiragi taps his shoulder, pointing to the windows of the building.

When Umemiya looks to the building, he sees the windows lined with nothing but people looking at them, all branded with the same light blue jackets, boys and girls mixed and alike.

Okay, he admits it. Walking into another gang’s territory without prompting is his fault, but he was curious!

“You work for Bofurin? Come with me.”

They’re both taken to an office. It has the same logo on the jackets on the wall, with the kanji for the gang in the middle.

Sanshedo. Sun Shade.

“Boss? I brought two people that wanna meet you-“

“Look! I got some new gemstones! I have topaz to add to the collection now- Oh!”

You snap your head to attention, to which Umemiya is looking at the collection of jewels with sparkling eyes. You look back at him with sparkling eyes as well.

You both share a hyperfixation. What is there not to like?

He can feel Hiragi’s deadpan stare behind him.

“Oooh! What do you like?”

“Plants!”

“Cool! Hey, you lead Bofurin, right? What’s your name?”

“Umemiya Hajime, you?”

“L/N Y/N, leader of Sanshedo. Care for a chat?”

Sure, he originally came to see what was up, discuss territory and make a possible alliance, but hey! This is cool too.

And you’re very cute. Like, very very cute.

TOGAME JO

Well, here’s the thing about Togame and his relationship with Shishitoren thus far.

He’s changed, him and Choji, that doesn’t mean they aren’t still just as vigilant with protecting and managing their territory as they were before the Bofurin Tournament.

So, when he hears there’s a big ass brawl in between two different gangs in his and Choji’s territory, he puts himself into action immediately.

He slings on his jacket, the embroidered lion’s head contrasting with the monk-like garb he had on the daily. Glasses catching sunlight, running with Choji.

Only to come to the scene to find you, minor cuts and scrapes along your face, and blood on your knuckles that really didn’t seem to belong to you.

Then he looks down to see the other guys, and finally thinks, yes, you whooped ass.

However, that doesn’t mean that you get off scot free. This is his territory after all, and if it went unchecked, it would be worse for Shishitoren’s already bad reputation.

“And who might you be, beating up people in our territory.”

“I honestly couldn’t care less. I’ve seen those jackets, you’re Shishitoren. I have no business listening to people who prey on the weak for fun.”

“I don’t care what you think of us, you’re still in our territory. Also? You talk too much.”

“You beat up middle schoolers, I really don’t want to hear it. I just helped you out with Zinc, give me a break.”

His eye twitches. It’s too damn early for this.

And you’re quite the looker. It’s a shame you’re enemies as of right now.

Damn you’re cute. Fuck, maybe he can try to redirect the conversation?

“How about we start with your name and who you’re under then we can chat.”

Hopefully over some ice tea and your number in his phone by the end of today. Can he pull it off? Shit, he’ll certainly try.

“Y/N L/N. Right hand to Sanshedo’s leader. You? I’ve heard of Tomiyama over there, but not you.”

You are so lucky you’re drop dead gorgeous or else he would’ve drop kicked you into next week.

“Togame Jo. Right hand to Shishitoren’s leader. Care for a chat over a drink?”

You look at him some type of way, but agree in the end.

Now if only he can get your number, today will be perfect.

© solaarbeeam 2024. do not repost or translate to any site.

[chakkll]

Lucky Day

Mike Schmidt x gender neutral!reader

Fandom: Five Nights at Freddy’s

Synopsis: A certain exhausted customer hasn’t failed to order a coffee every morning ever since the cafe opened up two months ago. Today, however, he seems much more stressed than usual.

Warnings: pre-movie, fluff

Word count: 1k

“Mama! Look, look, I even got the receipt!”

You smile as the little girl who just ordered a hot chocolate skitters over to her mother with a proud smile.

Warm sunlight shines through the windows of the cafe, illuminating the dark oak tables lined by the walls decorated with paintings and drawings by little kids.

You’ve loved working here, even though the place hasn’t been open very long. The atmosphere never fails to calm you.

The line is empty once again, so you turn to your coworker and friend, Candace, about to start a small conversation until you hear the front door’s bell jingle.

You look over to the door, readying your work smile, until you see who it is.

There he is. Right on schedule.

A genuine smile creeps onto your face.

Ever since the cafe you work at—Cora’s Coffee—opened two months ago, the same worn-out yet handsome customer hasn’t failed to show up every morning at 9am for a coffee.

And in Mike walks, this time sporting dark circles under his eyes.

He walks past the little girl clutching the receipt next to her mother and right up to you.

“Hey,” he breathes.

“Black coffee, a quarter cup of half and half, and one spoonful of sugar?”

Mike blinks, staring at you blankly until the ghost of a smile appears on his face.

“Yep.”

But his response doesn’t matter, because you’re already writing down the order and handing it to Candace.

“You look tired,” You observe as you put his order into the cash register. Mike sighs and offers a weak shrug.

“Up late job hunting.” Is all he says in response, causing you to glance up to him.

Somehow he looks even more sleep deprived than normal. …Still handsome, though.

You can feel your cheeks warm slightly at the thought, but you brush it off.

“Job hunting? I thought you were just hired somewhere?” You frown.

“Yeah, so did I.”

You sigh softly as Mike takes out a 10 dollar bill to pay, but you wave him off. He stares at you in confusion.

“On the house.”

Mike blinks, staring at you quizzically. “…Won’t your boss be upset?”

You shrug. “She can take it off my pay.”

Mike’s stare doesn’t let up, and it’s starting to make you a little self-conscious.

“What? Never heard of a little act of kindness?” You huff as you hide your face behind the cash register, acting like you’re busy to try and hide the small blush on your cheeks.

You can hear a small chuckle, causing your eyes to widen. You look up from behind the cash register to see a small smile gracing Mike’s lips.

“Thanks.”

You shrug, causing him to chuckle once again.

“…You remind me of my sister.” You hear Mike mutter softly. Looking up, you see a sad glint in his eye. His smile is gone.

“Your sister?” Mike looks at you, and you can tell he’s a little surprised you heard him.

“…Yeah,” When you don’t say anything, he sighs and continues. “She’s younger than me. 10 years old.”

You blink. “I remind you of a 10 year old? Gee, thanks.” Mike snorts.

“I don’t mean it in a bad way. You’re just… I don’t know, you remind me of her.”

You smile. Just as you’re about to say something, you feel someone elbow your side. It’s Candace, handing you Mike’s coffee.

You frown in confusion, as it’s not your job to give customers their drinks. Candace motions for you to read the cap of the cup.

You read it, and clearly written on the cap is:

look on the bottom of the cup for a surprise!

Candace’s handwriting.

You glance at her suspiciously before looking to Mike. “Excuse me for a moment.”

Mike shrugs and you step farther behind the counter, peering at the coffee cup curiously. You glance up at Candace who’s taking a customer’s order, but she shoots you a cheeky smile.

You sigh and carefully raise the coffee cup above your head. On the very bottom of the cup reads:

Hey! In case you wanna hang out, here’s my number: xxx-xxx-xxxx

- (Name) :)

Your jaw clenches in embarrassment.

“Candace—“

You look up, only to see that where Candace was standing is now your other coworker, Benjamin. He seems just as confused as you.

You grumble and screw the top back on.

Glancing up at Mike, you just now realize how long he’s been waiting for his coffee—this and chatting with you probably took up a lot of his time, as he’s almost always in and out.

You purse your lips as you glance down to the cup of coffee and back up at Mike. He chews on his fingernail, uninterested, as the sunlight now shines on him. The tips of his dark curls shine a nice golden brown.

Feeling bad that you’ve made him wait so long, you decide to replace the cap of the cup with a different one that has no writing on it.

Screwing the cap on, you walk back to your place at the cash register.

“Mike!”

Mike looks up and walks over. He takes the cup from your hands.

“I can pay.”

“Nope.”

“You sure?”

“Yep.”

Mike sighs, shaking his head with a small smile on his face.

“Thanks again.”

You smile and wave as he turns to the door. He sends you a wave over his shoulder, and with a jingle, he’s gone.

Two hours later…

You yawn, stretching your arms over your head as you walk out of the cafe. The bell bids you goodbye with a cheerful chime, and you walk down the street to a cheerful beat. You reach into your back pocket and pull out your phone.

Opening the settings, you turn off Do Not Disturb, only to see you’ve gotten seventeen texts.

You open up Messages, seeing most of the notifications were from a group chat with a few of your friends.

However, you have one text from an unknown number.

You curiously click on the text, only for it to read:

<9:36am>

hey, this is mike. i’m free on weekends if the offer to hang out is still available?

Your eyes widen and you read over the text at least three more times before you’ve finally processed it.

Mike Schmidt wants to hang out with you?

This must be your lucky day.

[pinkgy]

Hello, a new writing blog with great writing!

How about some NSFW headcanons for the paradise lost demons (whb)? I'm not sure if you write for them since the request rules don't really specify it, so feel free to just ignore this if you don't.

Have a nice day!

Hi Anon !

Yes, I do write for every character from every of the fandoms listed in my request post.

I’m sorry if my headcanons might lack a bit of accuracy or are not as specific as the ones I wrote for the kings, we don’t know much yet about the Paradise lost demons so I’m writing this based of on my opinion, some investigation and the little content we’ve seen in the game so far about them.

Hope you like it and thank you so much for your request♡

𝗪𝗛𝗕 !

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗦𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗦𝗧

𝗡𝗦𝗙𝗪 𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗖𝗔𝗡𝗢𝗡𝗦

GN!Reader + Reader has a pussy + Slight mentions of She/Her pronouns in Buer’s.

𝗖𝗪: Overstimulation, Edging, Dacryphilia, Shibari, Toys (Vibrators), Praising, Degradation, Blowjobs, Handjobs, Lingerie, Somnophilia.

𝗟𝗨𝗖𝗜𝗙𝗘𝗥

⇒ He's a Top without a doubt, there's no debating in this, he would get mad at you if you dared to suggest the idea of him being a sub.

⇒ Lucifer is actually pretty sweet, yes, he does a lot of questionable things while "pleasuring you" but he never does anything that hurt you too much, you have a safe word and many other ways where you can communicate to him any discomfort you might have and he Iso gives the best aftercare.

⇒ He's into shibari, this mostly because this way he can have you all to his mercy so he can toy with you for hours until your face is covered in tears.

⇒ He's the worst when he overstimulates you or when he edges you, by doing that he forgets any kind of limits you have set for him, you can beg him to stop, he won't, the more you cry, the more he does it. If he is eating your pussy while he aggressively thrusts his fingers in and out and you are sobbing and telling him to stop, he is going to do it faster, harder and way for aggresively.

⇒ There's no such a thing as normal sex with him, he's into a lot of shit, one crazier than the other, and he's also pretty good at analyzing you and he can figure out pretty quickly the things you like, and Lucifer will also be into those things.

⇒ "You say that it's too much ? Well, this cunt tells me overwise, and those beautiful tears all over your face don't seem to be out of pain, so don't lie to me and give me one more

𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗕𝗔𝗦

⇒ Marbas confuses me, he technically cant be freed from his restraints without Lucifers permission because his libido and violence are to dangerous for EVERYONE, but for the sake of this headcanon, lets say that he's not that bad when he's free. (ill include some headcanons where he's tied up tho, thats literally his kink)

⇒ Marbas is a Top, the fact that he's into being tied up does not means he subs, he definitely doesn't.

⇒ He would tie you up if you begged enough or as a punishment, but you better appreciate it, it doesn’t happen as often as you’d think.

⇒ He loves when you use toys on him while hes tied up, specially those wired bullet vibrators, he's soooo into being defenseless in front of you.

⇒ When he's tied up he loves being overstimulated, suck his dick nonstop or furiously rub it it up and down or play with his dick head, the sight of your face covered in his cum makes him go crazy.

⇒ But in spite of this headcanons, he tops, a l w a y s, you can have him tied up and ruining him with a bunch of bullet vibrators attached to his dick, he's dominating you somehow.

⇒ "Do i look that weak to you ? speed up that vibrator right fucking now or else im not fucking you"

𝗠𝗢𝗥𝗔𝗫

⇒ I don’t know why, but he gives switch vibes, but is leaning towards subbing.

⇒ Morax likes to be taken care of but not to the point of being a pillow prince.

⇒ Omg praise him please, he’ll become the whiniest boy out there, tell him how beautiful he is when he cums or how cute his moans are.

⇒ He’ll do anything for you, if you want him to completely submit to you, he will, and if you want him to fuck you senseless and completely rail you, he will, Morax is the definition of being into what you’re into.

⇒ As his kink says, he’s into body modifications, if you have one, he’ll go crazy, and if you don’t, that’s fine for him. But if you wanted to get one, even if it’s temporary, just to please him, you’ll drive him crazy, not because of the modification, but because of the intention.

⇒ “Just tell me, whatever you want me to do, just tell me, I’m yours, every part of me is your property, I’m here to please you and only you”

𝗕𝗨𝗘𝗥

⇒ He’s neither a dom nor a sub, but he’s not a switch, he just likes to feel good and likes to make you feel good, but he tends to get a bit dominant sometimes.

⇒ Wear fluffy lingerie, bonus points if it’s animal themed. (I don’t see him being into pet play tho, but who knows)

⇒ Buer is a box full of surprises, you never know his next move, he can be kissing you in the most romantic way possible, and then suddenly he’s spitting in your mouth.

⇒ Buer has something that makes me believe that he’s into somnophilia, but receiving it, he likes to challenge you to make him cum without waking him up, and the feeling of having his pants wet with his cum makes him go crazy.

⇒ He would love a pillow princess, to just please her and only her for hours, that’s a big fantasy of his.

⇒ “We have all the time in the world, so for this night and every night you want, so let me be the one that makes you feel the best you’ve ever felt”

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Touch and Go: The Morning After 

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI 

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Detective!Female!Reader 

Fandom: Night Hunter 

Word Count: 2.2K 

Summary: You and Walter try to navigate the morning after. You both have a few lessons to learn. 

Warnings: touch starvation, awkward conversation, unprotected p-in-v sex, creampie 

A/N: This is a sequel to Touch and Go - A Detective's Romance. Thank you @peyton-warren for your help with this story. Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.  

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics 

Support/Reblog banner by me 

Cover Art by me 

My Masterlist 

You’re awoken by the soft snores of the man next to you. And it’s less the sound of the snoring, but more the tiny puffs of air that escape his mouth and skate across that sensitive area of your neck. 

His arms encircle you from behind and his warmth enfolds you like a blanket. If you weren’t sure that last night happened, what’s poking at your hip would surely remind you of a few moments. And oh, what solid images there were. 

As you turn around in his arms, he shifts a bit in his sleep but doesn’t fully wake. His arms manage to tighten around you, and you didn’t think that was possible given how close you were. Not that you’re complaining. Far from it. You couldn’t be happier. 

This man could literally squeeze you like a stuffed animal, and you would thank him for it. You decide to throw a leg over him and soak up his intimate embrace. Laying against his chest, you tangle your hand in his chest hair for good measure. 

A low rumble in his chest and his arms tightening ever so gently signaled to you that he was awake finally. When he mumbles something close to ‘Good Morning’, you are surprised to hear that his voice could get any deeper than it already was normally. 

He leans down to kiss the top of your head and you try and hide the smile it gives you, but he sees it anyway and kisses your forehead this time. His lips linger there for a second and soon you hear him chuckle. 

“What’s so funny?” You stop yourself from listening to your anxious mind telling you that he is somehow laughing at you. 

He leans back and looks into your eyes. “I thought I was dreaming that you had stayed. I don’t normally sleep well. You might be my lucky charm. I feel rested.” 

“Good. I was a little worried that I wouldn’t get any sleep. But I liked being held all night. I could get used to that if I’m not careful.” You look down and away from Walter’s gaze, piercing right through you. 

“I understand your apprehension about all this, but may I suggest something that I promise to listen to myself?” Walter puts a hand over yours and you look up at him. 

“Sounds ominous but continue.”  

“Let it happen. Whatever this is, just let it happen. And we can worry about our vulnerability later, deal?” His thumb strokes the back of your hand, and you feel safe in his arms. 

In a single breath, you push down about a thousand negative thoughts before even listening to them and simply say, “Deal.” 

Walter moves to put you on your back, leaning over to cage you between his arms. You allow him to kneel between your legs, wrapping them around his waist and pulling him into you. He never takes his eyes off you as he reaches one hand down to line himself up with your opening. 

As he pushes in, he lowers his forehead to yours and groans, lightly pecking your lips. Once the soreness from the night before subsides, all you can feel is the perfection of Walter inside you as he pulls out and slams back in. He swallows your whimpers as his kiss becomes hungrier. 

Turning your head to keep up with his kiss, you slide one hand into his curls, and the other glides down to grab a handful of that plump ass of his to encourage his movements. He seems to relish your coaxing if his grunting is anything to go by.  

Soon, the sounds of your flesh meeting from Walter's powerful thrusting fill the room. One of his giant paws comes to rest on your hip, the grip sure to leave bruises in the morning. You are at his mercy and his cock pounds into your cunt at the perfect speed to get you off. 

You get a thrill out of how your orgasm comes down on you like a bolt out of the blue. Your walls squeeze around his dick and your grasp on reality starts to shift as stars appear behind your eyelids. Throwing your head back, you let out a series of wails that your body has never made before.  

With your neck exposed, Walter latches onto it with his mouth. He nips, bites, and sucks until his resolve also falters and he reaches his peak. As his hips go still against yours, you can feel every twitch of his shaft as he empties inside you. Sinking to collapse on you, his arms cocoon you and as your chests connect, the dizzying tempo of his heartbeat can be felt. 

You lay in silence for a while, tangling your fingers in Walter’s sweat-slicked curls. It's only the sound of your stomach growling that breaks you both out of your shared lull. His grumbling chuckle follows, and he unwinds himself from around you, finally sliding out of your tight heat. He doesn’t miss your whimpers; he just chooses to ignore them as he pulls you up and into the bathroom for a quick shower. 

After some time spent under the hot spray, mostly spent with stolen kisses and forgetting to get clean, you both dress in some comfy clothes. Walter gives you a pair of his boxers, sweatpants, a T-shirt, and a hoodie that still smells like him. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and you smile thinking you look like a perfectly comfy girlfriend.  

Walter just watches you and smirks before laying a kiss atop your head and suggesting you two eat something. You follow him out to the kitchen and are swiftly turned around and told to go sit while he cooks for you. 

Yeah, you could get used to this. 

Once breakfast is over, you rise from the table to take the plates into the kitchen with the intent to wash dishes to repay him for a lovely meal. Instead, Walter empties your hands and gives you a stern look. 

“Come on, let me help with something?” You whine, not at all being coy about it. 

“No. You don’t have to repay me for feeding you. Just let me pamper you. Act as though you deserve to be taken care of, please? Because you do deserve it. Now, go sit down on the couch, and don’t make me ask twice.” If it wasn’t for the wink he sent your way, you would have melted.  

You try to reply but the sound out of your throat is a mix between a moan and a whimper. It shocks you and makes Walter smile. You open your mouth again to speak but think better of it and just go sit down. 

Walter joins you on the couch, sitting close enough that his warmth spreads over you like a blanket. He turns to face you and you do the same.  

“So, I—” 

“Are we—” 

You both go to speak at the same time and then share a bit of nervous laughter. 

“You go first.” Walter urged, his hand running through his hair before settling on the back of the couch. 

“Um, so, you know I’m no good at this. That’s why we work so well, I guess,” You pause to get your words together while gathering a bit of courage, “I just...feel like I should be completely honest with you.” 

Walter tilts his head and furrows his brow, nodding for you to continue. 

“I like this,” You admit, gesturing between the two of you, “I like spending time with you. That being said, I would be upset if you invited another woman here and cooked for her and fucked her instead of me. I know it’s soon, but I want you to know how I feel.” 

Seconds pass like hours before Walter takes your hand in his. 

“I like this, too. I like cooking for you and spending time with you. I’m sure you can tell I like fucking you. But just so you’re sure, I’m saying out loud that I like it.” He finishes, smiling at you and raising your hand to his lips. 

The giggle that escapes your lips gives no warning and it startles you before you give in and let it float on. 

“So...I have a question. And it may seem rude, but I don’t mean it that way, I promise.” You start, trapping your bottom lip between your teeth in apprehension. 

Walter uses one thumb to free your lip from its confines before speaking. “Duly noted. Ask away.” 

“Why are you always so grumpy? I mean, you’re such a different person outside of work. You are fun to be around, and I did not expect that." You playfully poke his chest and are rewarded with a genuine grin on his face. 

“Well, firstly, thank you for the compliment. Secondly, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed but I’m not a big talker usually. When I wear my grumpy pants, fewer people come up to me. Less talking. Although now that I think about it, I enjoy talking to you. I think because we both struggle a bit with conversation, we don’t press each other. We just, sort of, work well together. I like that.” While he talks, his hands play with yours. You’re not sure if that is a nervous thing or if he just likes the way your hands feel in his. 

You both seem to take pleasure in idle touching, so why question it? 

“That makes a lot of sense. It’s easier for men to be grumpy as their resting mood. The number of times I get told to smile or ‘cheer up’ daily could fill a swimming pool. So instead, I have this fake enthusiasm with a matching artificial coy expression to go with it. It can be so tiring, and not to mention it makes my face hurt at times. It fucking pains me to be so falsely sweet all the time. But that’s the joy of the feminine mystique, I guess.” You sigh, letting out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. 

“Wow. How long have you been holding that in, girl? I think a bit of steam came out of your ears just then.” He smiles and throws a wink your way and you can’t help but smile back at him. 

“Well, since I’m on a roll with this stuff, I’ll just keep going. You’re the first person I’ve had sex in about a year. Just, bad breakup...and all that kind of killed my appetite for close human contact.” You babble, your hand going to the back of your neck. 

“I’m sorry to hear that. If you ever want to talk about it, I'm here for you. And I also hope last night and this morning were to your...liking? That’s weird to say. But it’s already out. Sorry.” His adorable rambling ends and the tips of his ears are pink to match the blush across his cheeks and nose. 

“Oh, I thoroughly enjoyed myself. Trust me. But my anxiety is going a mile a minute, trying to convince me that good things don’t happen to me. And I’m fighting it really hard. But you are starting to seem a bit too good to be true.” Your breathing picks up a little, but you control it quickly. 

“I can start listing off all my bad habits?” He sits forward and begins to count his fingers, “I snore. I hog all the blankets. I leave the cap off the toothpaste. I spend too long in the shower,” He pauses when you climb into his lap, “I can keep going.” 

“I bet you could. But let’s save a bit for me to discover later. Keep the rest a mystery, detective.” You wrap your arms around his neck, and he smiles up at you. 

“So, you still want to stick around, huh?” 

“I mean, our arms fit so well wrapped around each other. Also, you smell nice,” You lean in to sniff at his neck that still smells of woodsy soap, “And I'd be lying if I said I didn’t want to see where this goes.” 

“I’d like to see where this goes as well. In fact, I have a feeling this is going back into the bedroom any minute.” He rises from the couch, taking you with him as you wrap your legs around his waist.  

He walks you to the bedroom, kissing your neck along the way. He kicks the door shut before laying you down once again in his bed. You both take your time with each other, not caring about when things happen or if they happen. You get lost and find each other over and over.  

While you catch your breath, you are curled up in each other’s embrace. Your hand is tangled in his chest hair while his hand draws shapes on your shoulder. Companionable silence lies between the two of you, like a quilt connecting you.  

And it’s moments like these that you both find that you enjoy. The quiet moments where nothing needs to be said. There are no perfect words. While it felt touch and go for a while, sometimes all that is needed is the positive outlook that uncertainty can be a good thing. 

A/N: I felt like this story needed another part. I hope you enjoyed it!! "Let it Happen" by Tame Impala helped so much while writing this!!!!!

**Tag List** 

@cakesandtom @brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25 @kebabgirl67 @thabiddie23 @sweetandgentlecreature @astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry @rebelangel1102 @peyton-warren @geralts-yenn @raccoon-eyed-rebel 

Let me know if you wanna be added (or removed) 😁 

[rose-pearls]

I think cyclone could use some attention, how about an one shot where Beau is set up on a blind date, who ends up being a pilot under his command in dagger squad. Cyclone and the reader are shocked to see each, and they decide to make most of the night (despite VERY uncomfortable beginning). They end up at together. But have to keep it on the download since the reader is a Lieutenant, and he is a vice admiral. They end up having to explain it to the rest of dagger squad.

Hi!! I loved your request and I hope you like it!! So sorry it took so long but midterms have been kicking my ass lately.

Top Gun Taglist: @bisexual-watermelons (open)

Main Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187, @nyx2021, @thestarspangledcaptain, @kmc1989 (open for every fandom)

He doesn’t know what he is doing here, god knows he should’ve known better then to let Warlock put him up on a date. 

He wasn’t lonely, not as much as his friend thought. But as much as he tries to convince himself of that every day, he would be lying to himself. He did miss having a person that knew him inside and out and who would be there at home when he came back from work. He even misses the intimacy, not necessarily the sex, but just the cuddles and the soft touches when passing each other.

But he hated this part, not knowing who you are going to meet and feeling utterly scared at what was about to happen. An old lady had been looking at him curiously ever since he had arrived and he tried not to think of it, focusing on trying not to sweat through his shirt, he was a vice-admiral for god sake. 

“Vice-Admiral Simpsons?”, the words are filled with surprise and as he looks up, he nearly faints at the sight of the woman in front of him.

“Lieutenant Floyd?”, the girl is looking at his with equally wide eyes and he tries to keep his breathing under control.

“What are you doing here?”, he asks after a moment, clearing his throat hoping that it would somehow get it to work properly.

“Admiral Bates told me to come here and meet my, uhm, my-”, the girl seems a bit uncomfortable to say the word to him, but Beau just nods his head slowly, mentally thinking of every way he could kill Warlock for this. 

“For a blind date?”, she nods shily at his words before sitting down on the chair in front of him.

He can’t help but look at her, she is a beautiful woman, he had known that since he had seen her sitting in front of him when she had just started her training. She was also incredibly smart, which seemed to be running in the family as her brother was the best WSO in the business. Warlock knew what he was doing, Beau had always had some sort of attraction towards her, unable not to pay attention to her when she was in the room.

He hears her clear her throat and he can’t help the blush that creeps on his cheeks as he realizes that he had been looking at her for a moment now.

“Sorry, Lieut-”, he doesn’t finish the sentence as he realizes that they aren’t on base and that he doesn’t need to call her that. 

He looks up as he hears her laugh softly before she whispers her name, a sweet smile on her lips that makes his heart race like when he was a teenager.

“Right, well call me Beau.”, he tells her, and she looks slightly nervous as she fidgets with the menu card.

“Not your usual setting either?”, she looks up at the question and he wants to kick himself, mentally telling himself that he should think before speaking but she somehow manages to make him lose all control.

“Not really, I’m busier with the Navy then with my dating life to be honest. Which is kind of sad when I say it out loud.”, she says with a shy smile and Beau can’t help but smile at the sight of it.

“Well seems like we already have one thing in common.”, she looks up at his words, surprise etched over her eyes as she looks at him.

“Really?”, it seems like she doesn’t believe him and Beau smiles at her bashful expression after the word.

“Well, the Navy is quite busy, especially these last few years.”, he tells her, feeling tired at the simple thought of everything he had to do the past years.

“Maverick keeping you busy?”, he hears the teasing tone in her voice but still he rolls his eyes at the question making her laugh.

“That man is taking more years of my life away every day.”, the laughter that follows makes him smile even wider, unable to hide it.

“He is quite the troublemaker.”, she says and Beau nods in agreement.

“That is an understatement.”, he doesn’t have time to ask her anything else before someone comes up to pick up their order and they find themselves scrambling to get the menu card and quickly look at it. He had been too busy paying attention to her that he hadn’t even thought about what he was going to eat.

“So, tell me about your day.”, she says, as if was as simple as that and after a moment of looking at her slightly dumbfound he starts to talk.

He doesn’t know how long they talk, probably far too long but he enjoys every second of it. Her laughter when he tells her the stories of when he was at the academy and her wide eyes with interest when he is telling her the most boring things. He can’t stop listening to her, watching her talk as she tells stories of her and Bob as children. 

“I’m sorry to disturb you but we are going to be closing soon.”, the waitress looks a bit nervous as she stands there, and he looks at his watch to see that it is already nearing midnight.

“Of course! So sorry.”, she quickly says, and the waitress looks relieved as they start packing their stuff.

“Here is your bill.”, she says, and Beau gets ready to pay for the bill before he sees her getting her own wallet.

“I’ll pay for it.”, he says simply, and she looks at him with a slight frown.

“You don’t have to do that, we can split the bill.”, she says quickly, her head held high, and Beau can’t help but smile at the sight of her.

“I’m sure we can but I want to pay for it.”, he says, and she looks at him, slightly doubtful before letting out a quiet sigh.

“Fine but I’m paying next time.”, the words make butterflies erupt in his stomach, realizing that she does want to see him again. A red blush appears on her cheeks as she realizes what she just said before she stutters over her words.

“I- I mean if you want to of course.”, he doesn’t even hesitate a second at her words.

“Of course, I would, I mean I don’t even want to say goodnight to you right now.”, he realizes the way the words could be understood as and he feels his cheeks burn with a blush.

“You know some people would take that as an invitation Vice-Admiral Simpson.”, there is a coy grin on her lips and he feels the urge to kiss that smile away and make her say his title again, the way it rolls of her tongue so easily makes him crave her in a way he hasn’t felt before.

“Would you want it to be Lieutenant?”, he knows that they shouldn’t, this is just their first date but god he doesn’t know how he will be able to let her go at the end of the night. The thought of being able to kiss her skin and feel her skin against his makes his blood rush south.

“I could be convinced.”, there is that teasing smile that doesn’t seem to leave her lips and a moment later he finally gets to kiss them, feel the softness of them against the cold wind on his skin. 

There is that smile that doesn’t seem to leave her lips and his, but he never wants to not see her smile.

“As much as it is tempting to take you home and trust me it is. How about we go on another date first?”, he asks her softly, looking at her sparkling eyes in the moonlight.

“Sounds like a perfect plan. Text me or call me, quickly.”, she seals the last word with a kiss before leaving him there, slightly dazed. She looks back a few times before she has to turn the corner and Beau wishes that she didn’t have to leave that soon.

--

He ignores Warlock’s knowing gaze when he comes into work the next morning and particularly the day after their second date, still feeling high on the adrenaline of the night before and that morning. 

“It seems like everything is going well.”, Warlock says, with his most innocent gaze, which doesn’t work, and Beau tries to ignore him.

“Not a word.”, he decides to say, trying to keep on a straight face but ultimately failing as a smile appears at the thought of her. 

He sees her during the day, it’s a blessing and a curse at the same time to have her this close to him but not being able to say anything. 

They had agreed to keep it under wrap as he was still her superior and she was also part of the Dagger Squad with her brother on it. 

“You know, Bob is wondering where I am spending all of my time lately.”, she whispers one night, her fingers tracing lazy patterns along his skin.

“What did you tell him?”, he asks, wondering what excuse she could’ve found to explain her absence. 

“Just that I was busy, but I don’t think he will be leaving me alone about it.”, she tells him, and he knows what she is trying to say.

“Do you think it’s a good idea to tell him?”, he asks her softly, wondering how the quiet WSO would react at the news of his older sister dating him.

“I think so, he told me that he admires you and he has no issues with me dating someone.”, she tells him, and Beau can’t help but feel prideful at the thought of the WSO admiring him.

“Alright, might as well do it now. But only him.”, he can’t help but laugh at the squeal she lets out before being smothered with kisses.

“Thank you! You will love Bob!”, she tells him as if he doesn’t know him, but he lets her talk about everything that they could do together.

“I’ll call him.”, she tells him a little bit later, he can hear the sleepiness in her voice and after a moment he hears her soft snores filling up the room.

--

“Now, Bobby, I want you to approach this with an open mind.”, you tell your brother, trying to calm down your nerves as he looks at you with raised eyebrows.

“I’m starting to get really scared.”, he says, and you try to shake your head, taking his hand and squeezing it in reassurance.

“Don’t you worry, you will like him.”, you simply say, looking across the Hard Deck towards the door and a moment later Beau arrives making you so excited that you accidently squeeze Bob’s hand to strongly.

“Aw! How strong are you?”, he says as he rubs his hand and you look at him with apologetic eyes, knowing that he isn’t mad.

“Alright Bobby, this is my boyfriend.”, you declare, and Bob turns around to find Beau in front of him. You don’t know what you were expecting but not your brother getting up and salute Beau.

“Sir.”, your boyfriend seems to find it funny as he tells him that it isn’t necessary and sitting down next to you. Bob scrambles back on his chair, looking between the two of you for a few minutes, you can feel Beau’s uneasiness at the staring.

“Thank god.”, Bob sighs and he seems to deflate, making you look at him with wide eyes.

“What do you mean ‘thank god’?”, you ask him, wondering who your little brother could have possibly thought you would’ve brought.

“I thought you were bringing Bagman.”

“Ieuw! Bob!”, you screech and your brother snorts at your reaction while Beau seems disgusted at the words.

“I’m sorry but you were being so secretive I thought of the worst-case scenario.”, Bob tells you, shrugging his shoulders and you can’t help but shake your head.

“So, I suppose that I’m not the worst-case scenario?”, your boyfriend asks and Bob smiles sheepishly.

“I think that you are a good man, as long as you treat her well there is no problem. But hurt her and I’ll make sure no one can find your body.”, Bob threatens, and you smile at the protectiveness of your little brother, Beau immediately agrees and before you know it the three of you are talking.

“What do we have here?”, you suddenly hear behind you and the three of you turn around to find the entire Dagger Squad looking at you with wide eyes.

“What do you want Hangman?”, you hear Bob say and the blond aviator smirks in response.

“Just wondering what the three of you are doing here on such a fine evening, without us.”, there is a pout on his lips that is as fake as the plants in the Hard Deck.

“Cry me a river Bagman.”, Bob says, and you can’t help but laugh softly at your brother’s annoyance. Hangman had been trying to annoy him since the start and recently Bob had been going against him making the blond aviator even more interested in him. Your little brother seemed obvious to it, but the cocky pilot had been trying to get in his pants since the start.

“Bagman is right for once, I’m also kind of curious.”, Phoenix says while ignoring Hangman’s winning smile and sitting next to Bob, making Hangman pout.

“Well, it’s a bit of a secret.”, you try to say and immediately the whole Dagger Squad sits down, eyes wide open like you were about to tell them all about a new plane.

“We are dating.”, you simply state as Beau puts his arm around your shoulders. There is a moment of silence before the whole group erupts in chatter except for Bob.

“Wait, what?!”

“You two are dating?”

“You didn’t tell me Bobby?”, you hear Hangman screech, and you can’t help but laugh at your brother rolling his eyes.

“Stop being dramatic, she just told me five minutes ago.”, Bob tells him, and the rest of the Dagger Squad turns to look at you.

“This has to stay under wrap, at least until you are all not under my command anymore. Is that clear?”, Beau asks and the whole squad agrees, looking at you with excited smiles.

“Scouts honor.”, Hangman says and the whole squad snorts at his words.

“Now tell us how it all started.”, Phoenix says, looking excited at the prospect of hearing how it all happened.

“And give us the juicy details.”, Halo says with a smirk before Bob clears his throat.

“Please don’t.”, he says and before you can answer Hangman puts his hand on Bob’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry Bobby I’ll be there to support you.”, this makes everyone laugh and as Bob rolls his eyes in answer.

“So, it all started with Warlock.”, you start, with Beau helping you fill in the blanks.

You couldn’t have imagined how that first date was going to be like, but you hadn’t expected anything like this to happen. And now surrounded by all of these people that you liked you can’t help but think that this was what life was supposed to be like.

[demonicbaby666]

Birthday Expectations

One shot | Once Upon a Time Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Once Upon a Time

Pairing: Regina Mills x fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Words: 3k+

Summary: Just some birthday fluff, reader doesn’t like to do much for their birthday but when Mary Margret throws her a surprise party, she starts to realise just how badly she wants one thing, to leave. 

A/n: Not proof read well cause it's me so I apologise for the mistakes <3

Walking into Granny’s you knew what awaited you. Whilst Mary Margret may have been known for not being able to keep a secret, she certainly kept this one quiet. It was the gathering of cars and less than subtle shuffles that came from inside that gave it away, there was no doubt about it, a horde of people were waiting inside to ambush you with birthday wishes. 

The bell chimed and there was barely a second between the jingle running through the room and the off key singing that came from what looked like the whole of Storybrooke. The smiles that were stretched across everyone’s faces brought a warmth to your chest and you desperately wanted to enjoy this moment, but tears were welling up in your eyes and you hadn’t had the heart to tell the pixie haired brunette next to you it was from a sad longing to just be alone. 

The truth was you weren’t a fan of your birthday, it seemed to only bring disappointment and it was just safer keeping your heart under lock and key, never expecting anything, and certainly not expecting a whole town to gather to celebrate with you. Getting your hopes up only meant one thing, you were going to get hurt. So, you told yourself to enjoy this small moment for what it was, temporary. 

Heels clicked in the distance and when you looked to the opposite side of the room, eyes darting past a sea of strangers, there she was. Candlelight illuminated her olive skin, fire dancing in her chocolate eyes as she concentrated on holding your birthday cake whilst Emma barged through the crowd making a path for Regina to gracefully sashay through. 

“Happy birthday!” Emma exclaimed through a wide smile, offering a small hug, and quickly moving out of the way; revealing the breath-taking sight of Regina in a tight fitted red dress. 

Chanel perfume and vanilla icing permeated the air around you, suddenly no one else mattered. Suddenly, it was just you and her. A smirk appeared on her lips, looking down to the cake then back at you, she quirked an eyebrow. 

“I think this is where you make a wish.” Emma said, lightly nudging you with her elbow. 

Jumping back into your body you realised the singing had come to a halt and you were gawking at Regina, drool practically making its way down your chin with a full audience. 

“Oh, ummm, right.” You stumbled. Leaning forward, trying not to stare at the full display of cleavage directly at eye level, you closed your eyes picturing where you wanted to be and blew out your candles, sending a wave of cheers across the swarm. Painted in your mind were the stars above you and the solidity of the ground colliding with you back, the true image of peace and solitude, that was your wish. 

Almost an hour had passed, and it wasn’t surprising to see everyone had dispersed into small groups, talking amongst themselves, laughs and chatter filled the small diner, though somehow, you’d managed to end up alone.

Looking out to the barren street, the clatter of dishes and voices faded into background noise. No one had forced you into the little booth or put you on a time out, you couldn’t be mad. So why was there an all-consuming battle taking place within you? Some distant longing begging for someone to notice your absence. 

It was an odd feeling you hadn’t experienced in a while, feeling alone whilst being surrounded by people. It was safe to say, the feeling hadn’t been missed, creeping up on you and consuming all the self-dependent thoughts you’d spent years working on. Everything in you wanted to run, use the fact no one was looking your way to your benefit. The brush of skin against your hand erased all thoughts of a quick exit, especially now that you were wedged between the window and- perfume, spiced apples, and a faint whiff of hairspray- Regina. 

Her fingertips tenderly brushed against your hand for mere seconds, but by fair or by foul, they left behind a tingling sensation that somehow craned its way into your bloodstream, sending sparks flying through your whole body. 

“I can hear the cogs you know.” 

Finally finding the courage to look away from the window, you turned to Regina. With the room lit far more sufficiently than when you’d last been so close, you could see her fully. Breath-taking. That’s what she was. A thin layer of foundation, straightened silky hair, lined lips coated in blood red to match her dress and just above them, that scar. Night after night that scar seemed to haunt you, the feeling of running your lips along it, kissing the perfect imperfection. 

“What?” you finally choked out, still half dazed, and helplessly trying to ignore the twitch in your fingers that so desperately wanted to reach out, to familiarise themselves with the indented portion of skin you were trying to pry your eyes away from. 

“In your head,” she quirked, a soft smile gracing her plump lips accompanied by a light shoulder bump, “What are you thinking about, sitting here by yourself?” 

Stringing a simple sentence together had never felt this hard, “I, I was just, ummmm.” Great start. You could tell her the truth, though that would require digging into your mind and actually thinking about why exactly you were sitting by yourself. A lie then. “I just needed to rest my feet.” 

A perfectly sculpted eyebrow moved skyward by only a centimetre. “I can see how one would miss all the other free booths and randomly find themselves sitting at the only one that’s deserted,” she turned her head, scanning the room, “closest to the door.” 

There wasn't much else to do other than avert your eyes to your hands and awkwardly shuffle in your seat. The rug was pulled from straight under you, leaving you free falling in mid-air whilst someone in the distance kept singing about a whole new world; one you’d yet to discover. In fairness, Regina was right, of all the booths that had free seats you’d managed to conveniently pick the one that was farthest away from the happy crowds and with the easiest exit strategy. 

“Crazier things have happened.” You mumbled, keeping your head hung low. 

An amused huff came from beside you, a breath of warm air brushed against your cheek, sending another myriad of sparks flying through your body. It was as though you had no control of yourself when your eyes darted to Regina, and not a morsel of regret was found when you saw the gentleness in her eyes and the comforting velvet smile adorning her painted lips. 

“That they have. But you still haven’t truthfully answered the question.”

Guess there was no escaping this one, lying clearly wasn’t an option. “It’s easy to feel invisible with a whole town cramped into one small space, so I just let it happen. I know Mary spent a lot of time on things and I didn’t have the heart to tell her that this isn’t really what I do, parties, crowds, the whole shebang. It’s better to keep things low key and quiet because,” because there’s no chance of getting hurt, you wanted to say it, god, you wanted to just let it all out, but the words sounded too pitiful, too small and weak, “It’s just easier that way.”

Her eyes glazed over, like she was a world away, lost in a distant memory, “because there’s no chance of being disappointed or forgotten when it’s just you?” 

“I-” 

There was no time to tell her she’d hit the nail right on the head, purple smoke engulfed the two of you, rendering you all but blind in a haze of smog. With your vision obscured your senses were suddenly heightened, earthy smells filled your nostrils, the sharp smell of grass accompanied with soft, delicate, welcoming floral scents filled your nose. The smoke slowly cleared, revealing an open field with nothing but the night sky above you, the moon illuminating and bouncing off a vast array of coloured petals. 

“Regina?” 

Before you could wrap your head around what was happening Regina knelt on what looked to be a tartan blanket, slowly easing herself down with - as always - the grace and composure of a queen. She arched her neck to look up at you, tilting her head ever so slightly, beckoning you to join her.

The moonlight shone down on her perfectly, her eyes glistened in the meek presence of lunar light, stars danced in chestnut irises, mapping out a linear path to dilated pupils that remained focussed on one thing only, you. How someone could be both intimidating and downright adorable was completely and utterly confounding.

Slowly she reached a hand out; not knowing exactly how long you’d been stood getting lost in her eyes, you slid your hand into hers, attempting to ignore the butterflies that were flittering low in your stomach. Regina laid back, letting her head peak over the edge of the blanket, whisps of brown cascaded over shards of green. Thoughts of running your finger through her hair filled your mind, letting them disappear, just as the grass did, into thick brunette locks to graze gently over her scalp. 

Following in suit you discovered the ground to be uneven and slightly bumpy, mud piles prodding at your back. After shuffling a little you found an agreeable position, the fingers that remained interlaced between your own seemed distraction enough from the cold earth that bit down on your thin clothing.

When you stole a glance at Regina her eyes were shut, chest rising and falling at a steady pace, maybe a little faster than normal, but then again, you had not often found yourself assessing the rate of someone’s breathing. Her face muscles were relaxed, it was like her cold mayoral exterior had melted, swept away by the cold evening breeze, and left behind was only her, only Regina. 

How anyone could look at her and not see beneath the facade bewildered you, it was plain as day, she was good, she is good, pure, caring and kind. Everyone in town had a past, things they wished to forget, and the more time you spent with her, the more you saw she was the same, just another tortured soul scathed by a harrowing past, though townsfolk readily liked to forget that. Day in day out she battled inner demons, inner personas that demanded to be set free, and she did it without so much as batting an eyelid. 

“I notice when you’re not there.” Her eyes were still closed whilst yours doubled in size, if it wasn’t said with such sureness, you would have missed it completely being too lost in thought. The butterflies in your stomach that lay dormant were woken, weaving between them a rope that was being endlessly knotted time and time again, her words echoing in your ears. 

“I- That’s-,” taking a crisp gulp of air in, you let the cold fill your lungs, still your beating heart. Then set to releasing the warmed breath of air back out, watching the small cloud of condensation float away into the night, and hopefully with it, the inability to form a sentence, “How do you always know what to say? And how on earth did you know I wanted to come here?” 

“I can read minds.”

“I’m being serious Mills.”

“So am I.” 

Turning her head to look at you, a wide smile broke out across her face, her cheeks protruded out and a full set of pearly whites revealed themselves before the both of you burst out laughing. If one sound could feel like home, it was that laugh, low, hearty and raspy as the symphony passed through her lips, rumbling in her chest. The weight of the world that pulled you down was suddenly alleviated, gravity ceased to exist, the laughter pumping you with helium until you were floating on cloud nine. 

Laugher echoed through the field, fading into comfortable silence. Distant longing eyes looked into one another, peeling back layer after layer of armour you both hadn’t known the true weight of. Smile lines faded and a serious expression washed over Regina’s face, she shifted her back off the ground, her knees brushing against the side of your thigh as she settled down to lay on her side, never for a second unclasping her hand from yours. 

“I know what it’s like. To be alone I mean.” a soft sigh left her parted lips, her eyes were darting across your face like it was the first and last time she’d ever get to have you this close. You gave her hand a gentle squeeze, and when her eyes finally re-emerged from their endeavours, offered up a sweet smile, encouraging her to continue.

And she did, “My whole life I've been on this mission for revenge, and it was a lonely one at that. Then I found Henry and, well, you know the story. But no matter how much the band heroes said I was one of them, I found myself alone amongst a crowd of people, and I knew, circumstances be damned, I could always slip away, and it would go unnoticed. I’ll never really be one of them.”

“Fucking birthdays.” You huffed. 

“I don’t even think anyone knows or remembers my birthday, other than Henry.” she chuckled out. “I think I prefer it that way, like I said, there’s no chance of being disappointed or forgotten when it’s just you.” 

Mimicking her position, you turned onto your side. Regina’s eyes were a sea of unshed tears, almost instinctively you reached out to brush a stray hair off her face, letting your fingers linger over delicate skin for a few seconds longer than necessary. Fingertips grazed over the back of your hand, guiding you back to the powdery skin of Regina’s cheek, which you gladly took into the palm of your hand, and she humbly leaned into. 

“Regina, you're the first person I look for when I enter a room.” you half whispered over the sound of your heart pounding in your chest, but you forced yourself to continue, “I feel like you’re the only person that sees me sometimes, and tonight, poofing me away, you may not be a hero to them, and without meaning to sound too corny, you’re my hero.” 

Her cheeks flushed under your touch and her eyes shimmered, taking a rushed breath in, you kept going, “There hasn’t been a single day where I haven’t craved to turn a corner and be greeted by that pragmatic smile you wear so proudly, every time I hear a pair of heels, I can't help but hope they’re from those ridiculously expensive stilettos you wear. I search for you everywhere; I can’t help it. You are everything Regina Mills and the fact you can’t see that amazes me.”

Eyes flickered to your lips and the world stopped, pipeline dreams filled the intimate bubble surrounding the two of you, tender hearts caught wind of each other and beat in rhythm with one another. Blood rushed through your veins, moving so fast you could feel the molten fire coursing through capillaries and burning a direct path to your cheeks, that were now tinted with a rogue hue.

Your hand abandoned its post, moving to the back of Regina’s neck and weaving small circles in damp hair. In turn Regina’s hand found a new home on the small of your waist, setting fireworks ablaze in surrounding area. Your bodies drew closer until there was only a slither of space between you, and you lay still for what seemed like hours, peering into tear-stained eyes. 

“I haven’t felt like this in a long time.” you muttered, the words falling from your mouth directly into Regina’s, cavorting through her until she realised, they resonated deep within her too. 

“I know.” her lips trembled before quirking up into a smile. 

In the milky light she looks so young, untouched by the cruelty of the world, her smile was youthful, and you’d never seen her look more innocent then she did at that very moment. There was no weight between the two of you and for the first time you felt like someone truly saw you and accepted you as you were, and you saw them. 

Leaning a fraction closer till your lips lightly brushed against Regina’s, you closed your eyes and breathed out, “1st February.”

Her whole body froze, “What?” she whispered.

“Your birthday, it’s the 1st of February.” 

Doubt filtered through your mind and for a split second you felt the world crash and burn before you. The contents of your stomach began to churn. Had you pushed too far too soon? Did you say too much? Overstepped? 

Run. That was the only option, then hide out in a desolate cabin forever and never show your face in town again. Yes, that was a good plan, a very good plan. Never have expectations, because that way there’d be no chance of being disappointed, those were the rules, and you knew them all too well. You were too busy silently kicking yourself for getting your hopes up that you missed all the emotions that were plaguing Regina’s face. 

Backing away and fumbling over your words, you tried to choke out an apology, but the hand on your waist glided up to your back and pushed your body flush against her. All panic was washed away when plump lips ghosted over your quivering pout and wet tears brushed against your cheek. 

“Don’t apologise.” she cooed. 

It was Regina who closed the miniscule space between your lips, tentatively kissing you, delicately using her thumb to caress the back of your hand. The kiss continued, filled with more passion and desire. There under the stars you both lost and found pieces of yourself, held within the slow kiss was an exchange of vulnerability, shedding away responsibilities, memories, and the mere idea that you were ever going to be alone again. 

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[kuromori4]

MLB London special theories and Speculation!

So I’ve been thinking too much about the upcoming London special, 'At the edge of time'. Are there actually any theories floating around out there? Because I haven’t come across any and I have theories of my own.

Anyone interested?

Great! So we were recently given this new version of the synopsis:

“In the Burrow, Bunnyx sees the windows of time disappearing one by one... The future is fading away. But what’s going on? At the same time, Marinette wakes up at home to discover that someone in Paris has just made a wish thanks to the Cat and Ladybug Miraculouses. Quickly, she has to transform herself into Ladybug... but then she realizes she’s missing her earrings! Luckily, Bunnyx comes to get her just before the wish wipes everything out. Together, Bunnyx and Marinette, now Chronobug, must save the future by finding out who discovered that Marinette was Ladybug, when, and how they managed to steal her Miraculous. Marinette realizes that Butterfly Miraculous now has a new owner! “We can only hope for one thing: that Ladybug succeeds in defeating her adversary, otherwise it will be the end of Ladybug.”

And I can’t stop thinking about some of the wording in it. So Marinette wakes up to discover her earrings gone? Someone has discovered her identity and snuck into her room while she was sleeping to steal them? And on top of that, somehow, this person also managed to also steal Adrien’s ring?

Ok... so a wish has been wished and now their world is ending, Bunnyx comes to snatch Marinette up, etc, etc. 

Then we have this line: Marinette realizes that the Butterfly Miraculous now has a new owner!

Now personally, I think this is a line to throw us off the track of what’s really happening here. We all know Lila has the Butterfly. They want us to think this is about Lila. That Lila knows Marinette’s identity because she saw her transform in the end battle in S5. Especially since it seems that the blue light Lila saw is likely related to the special.

But I have one major argument against this.

How did Lila get Chat Noir’s ring? Even if Lila did know Marinette’s identity and used that info and the butterfly to steal it from her, it still doesn’t explain how the wish was made. She’d still need Chat’s ring. Since the only person who knows Adrien’s identity is Luka, I feel like this is a major plot hole for most theories.

Now, I offer my theory. And hear me out, because I can already feel the fandom raging at me.

Who has access to the Black cat Miraculous?

Who could EASILY sneak into a rooftop skylight at night without being noticed to steal Marinette’s earrings while she slept?

Who does Marinette trust wholeheartedly and would never, ever suspect?

That’s right lovelies, I’m saying what I’m saying.

I think Adrien made the wish.

What if Adrien found out the truth? About everything? After all, Ladybug knows of no particular reason not to tell Chat Noir what happened during that battle. What if he discovers that not only is his girlfriend Ladybug, but that everyone has been lying to him, his father was Monarch, that he’s a Sentimonster, and the cause of his own mother’s death?

Our boy would likely be a tad upset, no doubt. 

“But Kuro”, I hear you say. “Adrien is a good boy. He’s been tempted before, and he knows what’s at stake.”

Yes, but what was on the line then? Bringing his Mom back? Saving Nathalie? Both noble causes, for sure. But the sacrifice to be made would have been too great. It would hurt someone innocent. A price he was not willing to pay.

But what about now?

His father terrorized Paris. Hurt people. Why? To bring back his wife. Why? Because she died to create Adrien. This all stems from the circumstances of his birth. When everything is laid out in front of him, Adrien must have come to the ultimate conclusion: All of this pain and suffering was caused simply so that he could exist. 

What if Adrien makes the wish, to have never been born? If Adrien is never born, his Mother never dies. His father doesn’t become the villain. He doesn’t die either. Nathalie never gets sick, Marinette never has the burden of being Ladybug and Guardian on her shoulders. (Effectively causing the 'End of Ladybug!') Master Fu never loses his memories. Nobody suffers, nobody dies. And the sacrifice? Only himself. Ladybug often says that the wish would have to serve the greater good. Would Adrien not see removing himself as a sacrifice for the greater good? By undoing all of the damage his family caused?

The way he THOUGHT his father did in the final battle? 

Not to mention that the whole thing apparently takes place in London. Now, you might suspect that Félix and Amelie might have something to do with it, since they live in London. But might I remind you who else is in London? Adrien and Kagami, locked in the white rooms! We see Bug Noire rescuing them in the teaser!

I’d say that there’s a fairly good chance that upon his Father’s death, Adrien, already in London, might have been sent to live with his aunt and cousin, at least temporarily? (Chloe is also sent to London, though I don’t know if that will play into it at all)

Why do you think Adrien is so absent from the Promo pics and teaser? They really only show him being rescued from the white room by Bug Noire. The only pics of him on the posters are scenes from the finale of season 5. 

Particularly, the shot of him holding up HIS AMOK!

And just to add another layer to this; We have 2 potentially new characters shown, neither of which we have any idea who they are.

This dude:

And this dude:

Now, I'm not entirely sure how the first dude fits in, (Could be Lila for all we know) but this one seems to have a clock on their forehead, which is very curious. If Marinette is the one who becomes Chronobug in the yellow suit, Who is this? It’s certainly not Bunnyx. 

But hmm. Who else do we know Who has wielded the Rabbit Miraculous? Who’s identity is often hidden under a bald cap because his shock of golden hair would be a dead giveaway?

That’s right. 

THIS GUY.

Bonus question:

How does LB become Chronobug if her earrings are gone? Chrono implies a fusion between The Rabbit and Ladybug Miraculouses. Bunnyx would have the rabbit, and Mari has lost her earrings. Though, They have had 2 rabbit Miraculouses present at once because one was from another time, so potentially this could be like that. 

SO, What do you think??? If anyone has any theories to add or even to debunk mine, hit me up!!! I wanna SPECULATE!

[fluentmoviequoter]

Lockdown

Pairing: David "Deacon" Kay x fem!reporter!reader

Summary: While covering a court hearing, you get taken hostage with your favorite S.W.A.T. sergeant.

Warnings: spoilers for S.W.A.T. 4x16 "Lockdown"; angst, fluff!!, reader is flirty

Word Count: 2.8k+ words

A/N: This is one of my top 5 favorite episodes and I'm actually planning another rewrite with one of the others! I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think! (And thank you for telling me how good this episode is, you were 100% right about how good Deacon looked @katamcauley!)

S.W.A.T. Masterlists | Deacon Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Picture from Pinterest

“Here’s your next assignment,” your editor says, laying a paper on your desk. “Civilian is suing the LAPD for damages, and the case is going to court tomorrow.”

“North L.A. County Courthouse?” you ask.

“Yes.” She sighs before adding, “And I already checked. Your favorite distraction isn’t set to testify tomorrow.”

“Boo. Can I have a different assignment?”

You bat your eyelashes as you ask, but she laughs and walks away without answering. Shaking your head, you begin reviewing the facts of the case. Covering court hearings is neither the best nor worst part of your job, but at least you get a break from the office for an hour or two.

✯✯✯✯✯

“So legal affairs confirmed that the defense attorney only needs us as rebuttal witnesses. Should be out of here in no time,” Deacon tells Hondo as they sign in after surrendering their weapons at the courthouse entrance.

“Yeah, okay, Deac,” Hondo answers sarcastically. “When was the last time you got out of court in no time?”

“Today would be the first.”

“Exactly. And it becomes less likely if your friend is working today.”

Deacon rolls his eyes but doesn’t deny it.

“You know, I got to be honest, man, a civilian gets injured in a raid, and the officer who broke down the door admits he was at fault? I’m just not sure how I feel about being called in to testify on behalf of the city,” Hondo states as he walks through the metal detector.

“It’s not anything we haven’t done dozens of times before,” Deacon argues.

“S.W.A.T. was just there for support.”

As Deacon and Hondo near the courtroom door, someone calls, “Sergeants… Tony Jacobs, assistant city attorney. Thanks for coming in early. I know it’s a pain.”

“Eh, it’s not a problem,” Hondo replies, shaking Tony’s hand. “Beats dealing with the morning rush. Hey, listen, you seem to have a good amount of testimony for this case already. Why do you need us?”

“Cut right to the chase, huh? Well, frankly, what this woman is asking for in damages is excessive. Testimony from two S.W.A.T. sergeants could go a long way in the court. Just follow my lead on the stand. We’ll be out of here in a jiff. Our courtroom’s on the third floor.”

✯✯✯✯✯

After finding the courtroom, you sit and sigh in relief. You somehow managed to pick your most uncomfortable pair of shoes today, so you’re glad to sit in the courtroom for a while. Leaning over your notebook and taking a few quick notes, you don’t hear the door open.

Deacon and Hondo enter the courtroom, and Hondo sees you first.

“And he’s gone,” he hums as Deacon notices you.

Someone says your name and the underlying teasing tone alerts you to Sergeant David ‘Deacon’ Kay’s presence behind you. Smiling, you turn to greet him.

“Hello, Sarge,” you say, looking up at him. “You clean up nice.”

Deacon shakes his head before muttering, “So do you.”

“Are you testifying?”

Deacon glances toward the door, where Hondo is talking to the assistant city attorney. “That’s… to be determined.”

“Well, I hope you are because then I don’t have to take very good notes.”

“Why is that?”

“Because,” you whisper, leaning toward him, “it’s a conflict of interest.”

“You’re a journalist,” Deacon says, “I don’t think that applies to you.”

“My editor will beg to differ. If you’re testifying I may spend too long describing your big, brown, puppy dog eyes or how great you look in your suit.”

“Okay,” Deacon interjects, chuckling as he raises his hands. “Easy, Casanova.”

“I can’t help it Sergeant Kay,” you reply, fanning yourself for effect.

Hondo calls him over, and Deacon taps your arm as he says, “See you.”

“Promise?”

He chuckles again as he nods, turning away from you. Looking down, you wish you had chosen a different pair of shoes.

✯✯✯✯✯

“I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was having second thoughts about testifying,” Hondo states. 

“What’s the problem?” Jacobs asks.

“Feels like you’re using S.W.A.T.’s reputation to score points that you can’t get any other way.”

“I’m not asking you to lie, Sergeant.”

“I’m not sure I’m down to be used like that.”

“You’re kidding. You spring this on me right now? You’re a public servant, same as me. We both have obligations to the city.”

“No, we have obligations to the citizens, not the city.”

Jacobs steps away as Deacon approaches.

“You serious about this?” Deacon asks.

“I’m serious, Deacon. I’m just about done with ‘business as usual’ these days.”

Hondo turns to look into the courtroom, but Deacon’s gaze strays to you. You’re the “friend” Hondo referred to, and you and your editor know how you feel about him. If only you could find a way to tell each other.

✯✯✯✯✯

The bailiff walks out of the courtroom, and you turn to watch him exit, your eyes catching Deacon’s as he looks over, too. Deacon and Hondo stand quickly.

“Those are gunshots,” Hondo announces. “Sounds like downstairs.”

Judge Vang presses the alarm on her desk before announcing, “Everyone, stay where you are. This is an active shooter alarm.”

The door closes, and Deacon rushes to it, trying to open it before saying, “It’s locked, won’t budge.”

“Deac,” you call. “The panel on the wall controls the automatic door locks.”

“Your Honor, open that door right now,” Hondo demands.

You walk to Deacon’s side, murmuring, “She can’t do anything to override the lock after pressing the alarm.”

“We have a protocol, Sergeant,” Judge Vang replies. “This is my courtroom. I’m responsible for the lives in it.”

“And we’re responsible for the ones out there!” Hondo says.

Deacon taps your arm, nodding at you before returning his attention to the panel.

Hondo calls Luca, explaining, “Deac and I are locked down in a courtroom on the third floor. Active shooter protocol. The security system’s turned this place in a panic room, and we are stuck without firearms. What’d you find out about the shooters?”

Hondo walks to your side as Deacon pops the control panel open.

“Deac, we got four armed inmates downstairs. Sounds like a barricade situation. Luca, they make any demands?”

“There hasn’t been contact yet,” Luca answers.

Tan reads off their IDs, and you unconsciously lean closer to Deacon.

“We’re flying blind here, Luca,” Hondo says. “Listen, you’re senior man on-site. You are in charge now. The team is in your hands.”

Hondo ends the call, and Deacon continues working on the panel, glancing over at you when you take a deep breath.

The panel beeps as something clicks, and Deacon asks Hondo to try the door.

“You got it, Deac, it’s open,” Hondo whispers.

“Don’t go out there unarmed,” Judge Vange implores.

“We are not doing anybody any good locked in here.”

“I know you’re S.W.A.T. but there’s safety protocols for a reason. It’s best if we all stay put,” Jacobs adds.

“Listen,” Deacon says, stepping away from you. “The two of us are gonna go get the lay of the land. We’ll be back.”

“We will be back,” Hondo promises.

You grab Deacon’s bicep before he can open the door. “Do not get hurt out there,” you demand quietly.

Deacon raises his hand to cover yours where it rests on his arm. “I promise to come back for you. Nothing will happen to me because I won’t let anything happen to you. I’ll knock three times, okay?”

You nod, releasing him and waiting by the door, kicking your shoes off as you impatiently away his return.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Sounds like they’re headed our way, taking hostages,” Hondo says as he and Deacon enter the stairwell.

“They’re desperate,” Deacon adds. “That means they’re dangerous.”

“No one’s safe, we’ve gotta evacuate.”

They enter a hallway as Deacon says, “There’s got to be a fire escape or some way out of here.”

“Deac, check the windows… A building covered in windows and none of them open.”

✯✯✯✯✯

You pace before the door, ignoring the whispers of the other people in the courtroom. Deacon is taking too long, and when he gets back, maybe you should tell him that your flirting isn’t an act, that you really mean it.

✯✯✯✯✯

After the third knock ends, you slowly push the door open, releasing a relieved sigh when Deacon steps inside. He pulls you into a quick hug before announcing, “We’ve got an exit plan. We found a set of windows on the other side of the floor.”

“No way,” Jacobs argues. “We’ll be sitting ducks out there. We’re better off here.”

“Listen to me, all of you,” Hondo calls. “The gunmen are breaking into rooms and taking hostages. They’re gonna be up here very soon. We cannot stay. You’ve got to trust us.”

“No way, I’m not going,” Jacobs replies.

“You’re making a mistake. Come on, let’s go,” Deacon says, ushering people toward the door.

As Deacon leads, you look him over, glad to see he looks exactly the same as when he left. It took getting trapped in a courtroom with him to admit that your obnoxious flirtations are a disguise for how much he truly affects you and how much you care for and adore him.

“I got ya,” Deacon promises as his hand slips into yours, leading you through the empty hallways.

He directs you to the window, bringing up the end of the line. When it’s your turn to jump onto the rescue pad, you stop and push back against Deacon, where his hand rests on your back.

“You aren’t jumping,” you accuse.

“Not yet,” he answers. “We need to help the other hostages.”

“Then I’m not leaving either.”

Deacon looks at Hondo, who only shrugs. He’s not getting in the middle of whatever you and Deacon have going on.

“I know this courthouse better than either of you,” you point out. “I can help.”

“You can stay on one condition,” Deacon answers severely. “Do exactly what I say when I say. If I tell you to run or hide or come back here and jump, you do it.”

You nod, taking Deacon’s hand as you whisper, “I promise.”

“Let’s go then,” Hondo says, pointing back to the window.

“Where are your shoes?” Deacon asks quietly as his hand moves to your lower back.

“I left them in the courtroom,” you answer as if it’s obvious.

✯✯✯✯✯

Running down the stairs behind Deacon, you press your hand to his back as Hondo signals for you to stop. Someone is shooting below you, and you’re glad to be with Deacon.

“We got to go back,” Hondo says.

“Tan’s texting,” Deacon alerts, walking further into an empty room to call him. “We heard gunshots. They firing at you guys?” he asks.

“No, not at us, just the rescue bag,” Luca answers.

Deacon looks over at you, knowing that his only choice now is to keep you close and safe.

“They’re rounding people up in here,” Hondo states. “It looks like all four of these guys are armed now.”

As Deacon and Hondo listen to the deputy explain where the key to the weapon locker is, you trace your eyes over Deacon’s face, letting his very presence keep you calm.

“That’s two floors down,” Hondo muses.

“Won’t be easy with them patrolling,” Deacon agrees.

“We just need time to get our guns, Luca.”

Deacon ends the call, wrapping his arm around you to lead the way.

✯✯✯✯✯

Deacon keeps you between him and Hondo, but after you enter the deputy’s office, he pushes you behind him as he looks through the drawers.

“Hey, that’s our courtroom upstairs,” Deacon points out, looking at the camera monitors. “There’s Jacobs.”

“Deacon,” Hondo breathes out, watching the men take Jacobs. “We should’ve tried harder to get him to come with us.”

“Hey, we didn’t have time. And listen, you deciding not to testify, that wasn’t exactly fair to him.”

“What, that wasn’t fair to Jacobs?” Hondo repeats incredulously. “What about the plaintiff? A city attorney shouldn’t be allowed to take a case and reassign it to bend justice.”

“All right, do some of these guys care more about winning than justice? Yeah,” Deacon admits. “But we got to work within the system.”

“We can’t do that anymore, Deac. What do you think?”

You point to yourself in question, surprised to be pulled into the conversation. Luckily, before you can reply, Deacon finds the key and pulls you into his side as he leads you out.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Door’s busted, they beat us here,” Deacon whispers, an arm extended over your waist as he keeps you against the wall.

“Be careful, they might still be in there,” Hondo warns.

You enter between them, sighing when you see the damage done.

“They have our guns.”

“Tan says Diaz knows we’re here,” Deacon says, looking at his phone.

Adrian Diaz yells, “Harrelson, Kay! We know you fools are down here. If you give up now, we won’t kill you.”

“Deac, give me your phone,” Hondo requests. “Give it to me.”

“Really going to make a call right now, Hondo?” you ask lightly.

Hondo slides the phone into his sock, tugging his pant leg over it. He points at you and then at the ceiling.

“Okay,” Deacon answers, nodding as he pulls you to the desk. 

Deacon stands on the desk, pushing a ceiling tile up and over. Hondo helps you onto the desk, and then Deacon lifts you up into the ceiling, following shortly behind you.

His hand finds yours as you wait in the dark, holding you gently. You listen as Hondo is taken away, and after a moment of silence, Deacon slides the ceiling tile away. He grips the rafter, lowering slowly and silently onto the desk below. Turning, he raises your hands, grabbing your hips and lowering you gently. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, his hands holding you firmly.

Nodding, you let him help you from the desk before following him.

✯✯✯✯✯

Standing beside him, you listen as Deacon calls his team, holding his hand in both of yours.

“Hey, it’s Deacon. Hondo’s been taken,” he reports. “Well, I managed to hide. Hondo gave himself up so we both wouldn’t get caught. We made it to the gun locker, but it was empty. They beat us to it. They were calling for us by name. Not sure how they knew we were here… They took Hondo to courtroom 1, first floor with the other hostages. Listen, I know Diaz set up a deadline. How much time we got? Tell me you guys have a plan… Wait a second, I remember three stairwells…”

You tune him out, preferring to focus on the feeling of him beside you rather than the danger of the situation. Looking down at his hand, you wonder if you’ll get to tell him.

✯✯✯✯✯

“They’re bringing my team in a helicopter,” Deacon whispers, waiting in a stairwell.

“And then what?” you reply.

“Remember your promise.”

You nod, squeezing Deacon’s hand. You trust him, and you will do anything and everything he tells you. Deacon releases your hand kindly, whispering for you to wait as he goes up the stairs.

“We’re good. It’s Deac,” Street whispers.

Deacon gestures for you to join him on the next landing.

“Hey. You all right?” someone asks.

“I’m good,” Deacon answers.

He puts a bulletproof vest over your head before pulling his own on. 

“Stay here.”

“But,” you begin, trailing off when Deacon cups your face in his hands.

“I will come back for you, every time. But I need you to stay here so I know you’re safe.”

You nod, mouthing, “I trust you.”

✯✯✯✯✯

The door bangs open, hitting the wall behind it. You look around the corner slowly, rushing toward Deacon when you see him. He extends his hands, passing you your shoes. Taking them, you immediately drop them as you wrap your arms over Deacon’s shoulders and pull yourself as close as possible to him.

“Thank you for coming back. For keeping me safe,” you say against his neck.

“I’ll always come back for you,” he reminds you, his grip tight around your waist. “Will you let me take you to dinner for your bravery?”

Smiling, you pull back and counter, “Let me make you dinner for saving my life.”

“Good food and good company? Maybe I should save you more often.”

“Or you could just ask me on a date. Everyone else can see that I have a huge crush on you.”

“Let’s see how dinner goes first,” Deacon jokes.

“You’re not very good at this.”

“Then teach me your ways, Casanova,” Deacon replies, leaning forward to catch your lips.

Sighing against him, you’re glad you got this assignment and finally found the courage to admit how you feel about him to yourself. Now you must find a way to tell Deacon how you feel, though you think this kiss is a good start.

[myfairkatiecat]

Voice - a Keefe Sencen Poem

@justmossyall @phtalogreenpoison @justalunaticfangirl @fandom-mind-dump @whentheleavesfallfromtheoak-blog @lilliesandlight @permanently-stressed

I use my voice.

I use it for more than speaking.

“He’s a good kid,” they say,

“A smart kid—I wonder why he’s acting out”

I don’t want them to wonder

so I talk.

Joke, mock, quip, disrupt—

they don’t wonder

the expectations evaporate.

I feel lighter.

That is the power of my voice.

I use my voice

because if I make people listen

then they won’t look.

If I give them enough to hear

they won’t feel the need to see

and so I hide in plain sight.

I talk to cover what I want to be overlooked

I draw attention to myself

in the ways I want it

to avert attention

from the things I don’t want to be seen.

That is the power of my voice.

But sometimes my voice doesn’t work

Because sometimes, people care

And when people care

they look even when they can listen

and no matter how much they’ve heard

they still want to see

and what could be a worse time

than now?

when my defenses are weakest

quietest

and my feelings are loudest

and I know your feelings

and I can tell

somehow

you know mine.

When nothing that I know is true

it all comes back to you

and wide brown eyes

and a far from easy life

and a kind of sympathy

no one has ever had

And I wonder

is there something about humanity

that is truly beautiful in that way?

Something more of us

would be blessed to experience

and never will?

The gaze of a person

who understands

having lost every role model

or even every person I ever told myself

I didn’t care about

(even when I did)

and without having lost all those things

the understanding gaze

is not empty

but full of understanding

The understanding is warm

but terrifying

because

it isn’t something I chose

my voice won’t work

why won’t it work?

where are my defenses?

if I can’t hide

I have no choice

but

to run.

I know that you hate me.

Please don’t be afraid of me.

I hope that I’m right.

I know that I’m wrong.

You don’t think you can forgive me.

You shouldn’t forgive me.

You will forgive me.

I know you will forgive me

and I want you to forgive me.

You shouldn’t forgive me.

I use my voice

but things are different now

and so much has changed

and so much has happened

and I have been forgiven too many times

but when I am hurting, I hurt

without even wanting to.

I talk

I talk myself out

I talk and talk and talk

until my vocal chords hurt

I crack jokes

whenever I can

to prove I haven’t changed.

That is the power of my voice.

Until I have changed.

The world is dark.

Just for a bit.

I don’t use my voice.

Every whisper that builds inside of me

is proof that I have irrevocably changed

It was my actions that caused hurt

and my words that brought me back.

But if my voice can cause hurt

and my actions are what they always are

(the awful things I cannot seem to stop doing)

then what is there

left to me

that is worth loving?

(I wish you wouldn’t look at me

like I deserve the world

when no one knows better than you

how little I deserve.)

I feel powerless to stop myself

from causing the worst kind of hurt.

Pain helps.

A little.

But not enough.

That is the power of my voice.

I don’t use my voice

but I still am surrounded

by the people my voice could hurt.

Without my voice

every semblance of normalcy

is gone.

I have changed.

(She changed me.)

I have no defenses

everything has fallen

and I can’t hide

even from myself

and I certainly can’t hide behind my voice

and I know how much you’ll hate me

and I know I’m so redundant

and I know that this point

I’m almost painfully predictable—

but I have no choice

but

to run.

That is the power of my voice.

[voylitscope]

Stucky Recs: Holiday fics

December is here, so I've gathered twelve holiday Stucky fics to make this rec post for all of you. They're all perfect for reading under a blanket with the warm beverage of your choice.

Canon Holiday fics

❄️Paper tree | Ellessey | Explicit | 21,391 words

I don't know if it's just me, but I feel like pre-war fluff always has this extra softness to it, even more, somehow, than even the softest and sweetest of AUs. It just hits different. This wonderfully warm and feel-good holiday fic is such a perfect example of what I mean. Steve and Bucky are so sweet to, and about, each other in this fic, and I adore it. This one is also broken up into scenes that happen on different days as December goes on. I always enjoy that sort of formatting so much in a holiday fic, and, in this case, it also gives a whole month of delightful, endearing, and lovely pre-war moments.

Quote:

"It's a different taste, though! I want the authentic Mallo experience, in drink form." "It's coconut. The different taste is coconut. We could make it ourselves." Bucky's face lights up, and Steve adds another thing to his mental list of ways he can make those blue eyes get all happy and bright. He thinks about how many things he's not good at, how many things are so hard for him, but seem easy for everyone else with their perfectly functioning hearts, lungs, ears, and eyes. And he thinks about how easy it's always been for him to make Bucky happy. Doesn't even seem like he has to try, but he likes to try anyway. He drops another marshmallow in his own mug, and two in Bucky's, and thinks he could probably spend the whole rest of his life just trying and trying and trying.

❄️On the other end of the line | velleities | Teen | 9,385 words |

So, okay, only the last part of this fic takes place on Christmas. This fic does go through the rest of the year, too. But I feel like the Christmas-set resolution is significant enough to make this one solidly a holiday fic. It's also a gorgeous fic. It's a Post-TWS recovery fic that makes plenty of time for how not-okay Steve is, something I always really appreciate. Like I said, this fic takes them through a year, a Bucky-recovery year, and the growth and rediscovery of their relationship in that year is so well done. It's sometimes heartbreaking and sometimes sweet and always beautiful. I know calling a 9k fic a slow burn is debatable, so I won't say this is a slow burn. But I will say, that by the time this fic is done, these two have really earned their happy and romantic resolution.

Quote:

He can’t hold up a conversation. He doesn’t want Bucky to go – he craves his company – but he’s too drained to think of anything to say. He resorts to just feeling pitiful for himself, breathing in and out and listening to Bucky breathing in and out in return. “D’you want to hang up?” Bucky asks gently. “No,” Steve says hurriedly. “Okay.” Twenty minutes later, Steve is slowly drifting into sleep. “Steve?”   “Mm?” Steve mumbles into the phone, cradling it as if cradling Bucky. “G’night.” “G’night, Buck,” he manages drowsily. Steve somehow sleeps through the night.

❄️I got that good thing for you | canistakahari | Explicit | 5,830 words

You know that correct version of things where, these days, Steve and Bucky live in a nice brownstone in Brooklyn? And awful things have stopped happening to Bucky? And the events of Infinity War and Endgame definitely never occurred? And Steve and Bucky are really happy and super in love? Right. This fic happens in that world, and I love it. This is just so cozy and domestic. It's so low-stakes and so romantic. It's a holiday fic, and it's a fic about just how much Steve loves both making Bucky happy and seeing Bucky happy. It's also a fic about Bucky wanting to get the aesthetic exactly right for a specific sex fantasy. And honestly? They deserve that. We, as a fandom, deserve that. This fic is a joy.

Quote:

“I’ve spent a lot of time looking at pictures of other people's Christmas lights.” Bucky extricates himself from his blanket nest and walks right up to Steve, puts a hand on his chest, and kisses him firmly on the mouth. He is solid and soft at the same time, his hair carrying the faint scent of wood smoke and cold air from the tree farm. “I'll get your lights,” mumbles Steve against his lips. Bucky grins. “Yeah. I’ll make you cookies.” Oh. Oh, Steve didn’t realize it was a trade. It doesn’t have to be, but Bucky is offering. “What kind?” “Whatever kind you want,” says Bucky. He slides his hands down Steve’s chest, fingers tucked into the top of Steve’s jeans. “Even if you want nuts in them.” Steve cocks his head. Bucky doesn’t make cookies often, but whenever he does, Steve counts every single one of his blessings. Bucky will eat two or three and then leave the rest to Steve to devour, which he does, often within the first twelve hours of them appearing. The whole batch.

❄️Home is the Human Heart | aimmyarrowshigh @aimmyarrowshigh | Teen | 3,194 words

This fic parallels two years: one in during the post-TWS recovery era and one when Steve and Bucky are young. The scenes go back and forth between the two years in a way that really sets this fic's tone. It's beautifully done, and there's a touch of a really lovely bittersweetness that never takes away from the warmth, joy, or hopefulness of this fic. I also really, really love how Steve goes about things, with and for Bucky, in the current era scenes. Also! This fic has a line near the end that hit me hard when I first read it and that I still think about all the time.

Quote:

Rachel crawls out from under the table. Bucky gets the jar of pennies he and Becca have been collecting for the last year, and Becca gets the dreidel. Rachel’s eyes go wide at the sight of all the money. There’s probably fifty cents clanking around in the jar. “Steve, d’you remember how to play?” Bucky asks. “Of course.” Steve sounds affronted. “How many years’ve I been losing to you, ya lousy cheat?” “You can’t cheat at dreidel,” Bucky says, laughing. “Punk.” “Jerk.” “I don’t know how!” Rachel says. She kicks Bucky’s knee under the table. “I wanna play!”

❄️Two strangers in the bright lights | Claudia_flies | Explicit | 7,348 words

Listen, listen. It's a holiday fic! It's a post-TWS recovery fic! It's a tower fic! It's a fake dating fic! It's a damn delight, and you should read it. The love-struck, dopey-eyed, total disaster about each other, antics happening throughout this fic are just wonderful, truly. Bucky spends about 85% of this fic practically on Steve's lap . To make the fake dating look real and fool the other Avengers, of course. (Obviously, we need to do it this way, Steve! It has to be convincing, Steve!) And Steve spends about 85% of this fic absurdly happy about Bucky doing just that, and also noticing that doing these things seems to make Bucky happy, and then being even happier because Bucky is happy — but then not examining that too closely, because, you know, Bucky is clearly just really good at this plan and super committed to it. A joy of a fic that's so much fun to read.

Quote:

Steve finds the tablet discarded among the multitude of cushions on the couch while waiting for their new French press to finish brewing, and as soon as he touches the screen, it opens on a web page titled ‘10 Cute Holiday Winter Dates To Go On With Your Boyfriend’ written in an obnoxiously cutesy script. The first one on the list is ice skating, and the next one is decorating the tree together. Each bullet point is accompanied by a cheap stock photo and some inane text about why this particular date is suitable for a cute winter romance. Gently, Steve closes the tablet and carefully places it back where he found it. He pours the coffee into two matching mugs and carries them into the still-dark bedroom. Bucky mumbles something resembling a “thank you” from underneath several pillows and most of the covers as Steve places the steaming cup on his bedside table. Steve smiles and climbs back into the bed, sitting up against the headboard with his coffee and a book. It’s probably the most perfect Sunday morning he’s had in a lifetime.

❄️(I'll be home for Christmas) if only in my dreams | crinklefries | Teen | 13,728 words

A 5+ 1 that looks at 5 earlier holidays, but starts and ends on the current one, one that Steve and Bucky are spending together, in Wakanda. It's an emotional gut punch of a fic, in the best and most satisfying of ways. I love the holidays this fic chooses to showcase, the little stories it chooses to tell, and the moments it chooses to share. I love the wonderfully sweet holiday tradition it creates for Steve and Bucky. I love the way that tradition becomes something that is so important and so meaningful that they're able to keep it, even when it should have been impossible. Really gorgeous stuff.

Quote:

For the first time since his capture, Bucky feels safe. They’re in a fucking goddamn ditch killing fucking goddamn Nazis on fucking goddamn Christmas, but Bucky can hear Steve’s heart beat, strong and steady under his ear, and he feels safe. Maybe because it’s Christmas day, but there are no shots fired. It’s mostly quiet, the group of them in their respective ditches, tensed, just waiting. Someone--Dugan, he thinks, or maybe Gabe Jones--starts singing a Christmas song and then the rest of the start singing too. Steve’s never had much of a singing voice, but he tries and Bucky tries not to smile.

AU Holiday Fics

☃️'tis the damn season | chicklette | Explicit | 4,625 words

A fic about a Steve and Bucky who grew up together, were together as teenagers, and who, if they're being honest, have been in love their whole lives. But they're adults now, and they refuse to hold each other back. This a general premise that comes up decently often in Stucky AUs, and I'm typically into it for them. I can see these two and their stubborn, self-sacrificing ways, each deciding that they were the thing stopping the other from a goal/plan/the general idea of growing up. It's a very specific sort of exes-to-lovers story, and it leads to a very specific feelings reveal, one that's not "I'm in love with you," but instead, "I've never gotten even a little bit over you." It's something that can work so well for these two, sometimes, and this fic is an example of it being done just absolutely gorgeously. It's warm and painful and sexy all at once — until its wonderfully romantic resolution.

Quote:

Steve’s hair is a little long on top, and he’s rocking a scruffy beard, and fuck him for looking so goddamned good. It isn’t fair, Bucky thinks, mixing the drink. It isn’t fair that he looks so fucking good, that he looks exhausted and stressed out and kind of sad, and he’s still the best thing Bucky’s ever seen. It isn’t fair that Steve shows up every year at Christmas and it is Christmas, it’s a fucking gift and Bucky looks forward to it all damn year, but this year there was a little dread too because every year it takes him a little longer to let go.

☃️I've got a lot to pine about | cable-knit-sweater @cable-knit-sweater | Mature | 6,113 words

I just love a fic about people who are having Totally Very Casual sex, and who are both convinced they are the only person in this situation who has developed feelings. A fic about people who are pining while actively hooking up. 10/10. Great trope. This fic is that trope, used at Christmas, and it's wonderful. There are so many feelings! There are ridiculously cute seasonal activities! There are sweet holiday gestures! There are two absolute idiots in love, being painfully obvious about how in love they are — while both being certain, just completely convinced, that the other is definitely only here for the casual sex! There is a romantic holiday resolution! Just a complete delight.

Quote:

Once they get there, though, he forgets about his worries and actually has a good time. There’s a small Christmas market, a stall with hot chocolate and apple cider, and he’s surrounded by his friends. Even Steve seems to be feeling a little better about the whole festive season, and Bucky likes to think he played a hand in that.  What makes it all even better is that Steve is wearing the earmuffs Bucky bought him. He looks ridiculously cute, like Bucky’d expected. The fact that Nat tells Steve he looks cute and makes him blush and grumble a little annoyedly, makes it absolutely perfect.  At some point, he doesn’t get away with just staying on the sidelines and sipping his hot chocolate, and Steve drags him onto the ice. He must notice how Bucky is a little nervous.  “I’ll hold your hand?” Steve offers. “I’ll make sure you don’t fall. I got you.”

☃️If Only in My Dreams | odetteandodile | Teen | 28,317 words

A holiday rom-com. A joy. Sweet, trope-filled, funny, and so very romantic. This fic has a Hallmark Channel-worthy premise in the most fun and most wonderful way. I am a firm supporter of Steve and Bucky getting to have a rom-com life. Instead of, you know, the relentless tragedy of canon. I also really enjoy that, unlike many actual Hallmark Movies, the central conflict continuing to be a conflict throughout the fic is completely believable and understandable. And then, when we get to the end, it's all resolved in such a satisfying (and romantic! and lovely!) way.

Quote:

He’s been so good today, so laser-focused on taking Sam’s advice to heart and throwing his all into his work—into cementing this dream he’s been working toward for nearly three years. It was steadying to apply himself to the tangible things he could make and do, utterly rooted in reality. But the thing is—Steve is real. He may look like a fantasy somebody invented to torture Bucky this week, but he’s a flesh-and-blood person. And he’s looking back at Bucky like Bucky is the dream guy. Bucky doesn’t make a move to step any closer. All of his words and common sense have abandoned him. So he just stands with his heart hammering foolishly against his ribs at the edge of the room. Steve doesn’t look away. But after a moment he squares his shoulders and stands, his full height and broad chest emphasized under the cut of his uniform, light glinting off the medals and ribbons on his coat.

☃️Whose arms will hold you | biblionerd07 | Gen | 10,843 words

The first of two fics on this list to feature a holiday road trip home from college, a snowstorm, and, yes, only one bed. This one is a meet-cute, and wow, is it cute. Seriously, this fic is just so, so very sweet. When I was pulling this list together, I quickly reread over this fic and hit a moment that made my breath catch when I remembered what was about to happen. It's a moment that made me think, "Oh god, that's right. This is that fic!" And then my heart did a fluttery thing. Also, we've got an alive and well Sarah Rogers in this one, and the conversations Steve has with her are just as lovely and delightful as everything else about this fic.

Quote:

"I didn't realize you were trying to impress me." "Why wouldn't I be?" James says, arching an eyebrow in a way that makes Steve's stomach lurch a little. Is James flirting with him? He can feel his cheeks heating up a little. James is apparently oblivious to his internal turmoil, because he goes to his duffel and roots around. He emerges with a pack of cards. "Wanna play?" Steve doesn't know how to play poker. But James doesn't know how to play gin, so they're sort of at an impasse until Steve says, "Well…what about Go Fish?" And that's how two grown college-students end up playing Go Fish on a dusty motel bedspread, eating apple pie that tastes a little old but not terrible.

☃️Not the same river at my fingertips | giselleslash | Expicit | 11,021 words

And now the second road-trip-home-from-college-for-the-holidays (but then a snowstorm! And a motel room!) fic on my list. This one is not a random ride-share meet-cute. This one is about a Steve and Bucky who had a one-night stand years ago, and who haven't stopped thinking about each other since. But: miscommunication. So they're both pretty sure the other has never given them a second thought. But it's fine because they're both totally okay about that. They're very mature about it, okay? They can handle this road trip without any weird tension. They definitely won't make things worse by talking about the thing where they're each convinced the other doesn't like spending time with them. And the combination of the tension, the memory of their one-night stand, and the fact that they're both, actually, obsessed with each other will absolutely not lead to anything at all when they have to get a motel room to wait out a snowstorm. Not even when there is, of course, only one bed.

Quote:

“You’ve brought me a truly beautiful feast.” Bucky laughed at that and Steve instantly felt a hundred percent warmer than he had before. Even Bucky’s fucking laugh was sexy. It was horrible. Bucky had slipped off his boots and grabbed two of the plastic cups from the small tray that held them and an ice bucket. “Gimme,” he said as he waved his fingers at the bottle of tequila Steve still had clutched in his hand for some reason. He handed over the tequila and Bucky crawled onto the bed with it. He sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed and patted the mattress next to him. “Bring the food and hop on,” he said. Steve got the food containers and did just that.

Bonus:

⛄Here Comes Santa Claus | AidaRonan | Explicit | 6,755 words

So, as I've mentioned before, I hesitate to include recs for fics that are primarily smut (and very, very little plot) on these themed rec lists. Mostly because primarily smut fics are just sorta their own thing. That is a theme. But. I'm making an exception, because truly, you guys, here in Stucky we've got fics for so many scenarios. There is just fic for a seemingly endless amount of scenarios. For instance, there's this one. It's Santa Steve fic about, well, Steve, as Santa (but looking like Steve!), repeatedly visiting (an adult!) Bucky on Christmas, and it eventually leading to sex in Santa's sleigh. And, really, I've gotta say, I love that for us. I love that this fic exists. So I felt like I had to include it with these holiday recs. Even if it very much is primarily smut.

Quote:

“You’re standing under the mistletoe,” Bucky says, and Steve looks up. “Huh. How ‘bout that,” he says, before going back to his work. “What’s the rule if you’re under the mistletoe alone? Jerk off?” “Jesus, are you allowed to talk like that?” “I can talk however the fuck I want.” “Pretty harsh language from Santa Claus.” “Language is a construct like time and gender. And ‘fuck’ is really fun to say. Harsh consonants. So satisfying.” Santa slides a small gift box between branches in the tree. “Besides, no one but you is awake to hear me.”

Happy holidays!

Fic Rec Series

[dreamingofep]

Sinned Awakening pt. 4

An AU Elvis fic

(Vampire!Elvis/Vampire Austin!Elvis × reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Request: No

Prompt: Getting promoted to be Elvis full time housekeeper, you realize the man holds secrets beyond belief and your undeniable attraction makes you fear the unknown. Fem!Reader]

TW: Cussing, tension, angst, SMUT, cheating, fingering, the usual dirty stuff

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4.4K

A/N: Hello everyone!

Welcome to part 4! The spicy stuff is here and it’s here to stay🤭 I hope you enjoy all this and can't wait to keep building this relationship and the secrets that lie beneath it. Please let me know what you think in the comments or send me a message!

Thank you again!

Sorry for any spelling mistakes and overall goofs.🖤

The bag of ice burns into your neck making you wince and huff out a frustrated groan. You did this to yourself. There was no one else to blame. Well, maybe Elvis. You could blame Elvis for doing this to you but begged him to do all of it you. Every last thing. Now you’ll never be able to look at a piano the same without picturing Elvis eating you out on top of it.

All last night you kept replaying the events in your head, how you have never felt so satisfied and wish you could somehow reenact those feelings he gave you.

There was one way you could…

No. Absolutely not. This was a one-time thing and you just have to live with the memories.

You managed to avoid Daniel and he never saw you walk in the door with the huge bandage plastered across your neck. You couldn’t go to sleep right away and tossed and turned for hours it seemed. The shame didn’t wrack through you like you thought it would, it was quite the opposite. There was something so addictive about him. About being close to him and when he was fucking you, there was no word to describe how it felt.

Looking in the mirror, you inspect how your bruise is looking. After icing it all night and a bit this morning, the swelling went down and the purple coloring was much less prominent and diluted. It still showed and you thought putting another bandage on would make it even more noticeable than it already was. You decided to dab some makeup on it and hope no one asks any questions about it.

Getting to work, the locker room is empty thankfully and you get your uniform on and stock up on some cleaning supplies that aren’t in your cart. The ticking of the clock rings in your ears as you wait for the minute hand to hit the twelve-clock mark, making it three pm.

The familiar ring fills the room and you eagerly pick up the phone.

“Housekeeping, this is y/n,” you say happily.

“Mr. Presley wishes to see you.” The click of the receiver doesn’t surprise you and you make your way to the elevator with your cleaning cart.

This trip to the penthouse made your stomach have butterflies, making your heart beat wildly at the anticipation of just seeing him. You really don’t know what to talk to him about when you get up there though. Are you two just going to act normal and act like the events that transpired last night never happened? That was a lot to just suddenly ignore.

You walk past the men in the hallway and they keep their heads down, standing there like statues as they always did. Pushing the double doors, you walk into the suite and get greeted by those dark blue eyes. He takes your breath away, the second you step foot into his space, you just want to collapse into his arms and do what he wants.

You take a deep breath before speaking, “Hello, Mr. Presley,” You say softly.

He smirks, amused by your candor, “Hi honey, you can call me Elvis if you’d like,” he says sweetly. You smile looking down at your feet, not wanting him to see that his charm is working.

“Thank you, Elvis. Where would you like me to start?” you say shyly.

He stares at you and doesn’t look away.

“I didn’t really call you up here to clean honey,” he says gruffly.

“Umm, Mr. Presley I really should do something that pertains to my job…” you say a bit intimidated by his tone and presence.

“Fine. You can take the trash out of all the bathrooms first,” he says courtly, his face showing amusement as you are trying to stay as far away from him.

You nod your head and go to the guest bathrooms and get everything in order. When you turn around to grab something from your cleaning cart, Elvis is behind you.

“Mr… I mean Elvis you’re really going to have to stop sneaking up on me, you’re going to scare me off,” you tease.

“Hmm, I don’t think much scares you but I hear you loud and clear,” he winks at you, making you blush.

You head back to the living room and it’s almost in perfect condition, leaving you surprised he called you up here again.

“Not having that many crazy parties hmm?” You ask him jokingly.

“Haven’t had many people over. Being a recluse and all as you say,” he quips. You can’t help but laugh at the little dig he made.

“Well I guess you need some more friends then Mr. Presley,” you tease.

“It seems you’ve been my only company lately,” he says slyly.

Your cheeks continue to burn and you can’t help but wonder what he thinks about all of this.

“Well I’m very sorry for that,” you tease.

“No please, don’t ever be sorry. I much rather have you around,” You glanced up at him as he has that familiar twinkle in his eye, making you look anywhere else.

“Did you sleep okay last night?” he asks.

“Uh, yea I slept fine, did you sleep okay?” You ask, feeling uneasy to talk to him so freely like this.

“No not really but I’m fine. I don’t need much sleep,” he says cheekily.

You try to scurry away from this awkward small talk and act like he wasn't stuffing you to the hilt with his cock last night.

Jesus, focus.

You check in the little half bath that’s by the front door and fold some hand towels for any guests he might have. Looking up in the mirror, you see Elvis behind you again, having a devious look on his face. You jump and turn around to face him.

“I still make you nervous? Even after everything I did to you last night,” he insinuates

Your cheeks flush and you feel your heart dance wildly.

“Well, I don’t know who can ever get used to being so close to you Elvis. But I guess even after everything that transpired… you still make me feel on edge.”

He steps toward you and you fight the urge to step away like you always do.

“Mhmm, good,” he murmurs darkly. “I don’t want you to get too comfortable,” he grumbles as he looks at you in the mirror, his hands on your shoulders to turn you back around to face the mirror. His body pushes up against your small frame and you both let out a soft moan when feeling each other like this.

He places a soft kiss on your neck, making chills run down your body. His lips feel cold yet so soft and plump, you could let him kiss your neck for hours if he wanted.

“And if I do get… comfortable… then what?” You ask in an airy manner.

“Then I would have to put you back in your place,” He says low.

“And where’s that? On top of the piano?” You insinuate. He bites the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling and nods his head at you.

“Mhmm… that’s one way,” he trails off, his hands finding your hips and squeezing them. You involuntarily push your body back into his rigid frame and let out a slow exhale.

“There are so many rooms we can use tho. I was thinking more of a way to get you to listen to me and not be so obstinate,” he alludes. Your body felt like it was on fire again having him pressed against you. Your breathing became shallow and the more you breathed in, the more you took in his delicious scent.

“That’s going to be a challenge, I don’t think you know me very well, I’m very difficult,”

His hands trail down the front of your body, scrunching up the material of your skirt to expose your panties.

“I think I can find a way to… persuade you,” he notes.

You look at him in the mirror drunk on you already and feel your arousal begin to form. He smirks down at you, almost like he can feel your slick forming because of him, and continues to kiss your neck. You try to break away from him but it feels impossible, looking in those mesmerizing eyes that suck you in every time.

His fingers find your sensitive bud and he starts to rub slow circles there, watching as your head falls back onto his chest.

Your breathing becomes labored and you try to swallow the moans you want to let free. You feel him press his cock into your ass and the soft groan he gives when he does that sends throbs to your core.

He works you like he’s known you your entire life, giving you exactly what you want before uttering a word.

He picks up one of your legs and bends it at your knee, placing it on the counter and stretching it out before you, giving him a better view of your soaked panties.

His lips feel like fire on your skin, making you want more of him and have your body more on edge. You watch as his fingers pull your panties to the side, letting the cool air hit your core and leaving you panting for more from him. Watching in the reflection his cold, long fingers spread your lower lips apart, you see how he exposes your weeping core to him in the mirror and watches his face looking at you hungrily, hearing him groan in your ear.

“Fuck baby look at yourself, this kitty needs so much attention hmm,” he asks sensually.

You can’t help but moan at his words and you shut your eyes closed, so sexually frustrated.

“God fuck please, I should probably… leave you alone,” you moan quietly, the sound of his dirty words making you wetter by the second.

He cocks his head at you, examining you carefully before speaking.

“Is that really what you want honey? Or do you want me to take care of that needy pussy.” He groans in your ear.

“Elvis I, I can’t. I shouldn’t,” you pant.

He looks amused at you like he knows that’s actually all you want. You want him to fulfill this newfound need for him that he created. This undeniable need for him to please you for hours. You feel his finger tease your entrance, rubbing there before pushing it inside you. You cry out to him, feeling the pleasure run through you the second he’s inside you.

You watch in the mirror how his finger curls inside you and is covered in your arousal when he pulls it out of you. His other hand glides over your chest and into your shirt, unbuttoning it to show your breasts in your plain white bra. He squeezes your breasts and watches as your face begs for more. The way he’d touch you was all too much yet not enough. You wished you could wrangle this need you have for him but nothing will do. He’s created a monster and you’re more than okay with it.

“Elvissss,” you moan, looking at him in the mirror.

“What honey, tell me what you need. Don’t need to fight what you want,” he coos.

You are breathless at this point and can’t believe he has you like this. This needy, whimpering mess in his bathroom.

“Fuck me. Please, fuck me,” you groan breathlessly. He gives you a sly look in the mirror as he enters another finger inside of you making you buck your hips.

“By the looks of it, I’m already fucking you darlin’. What more do you want?” He growls deviously. You cry out loudly as he moves his fingers faster in and out of you, making wet, sloppy noises come out of your core. You keep crying for him to give you what you want but he doesn’t listen. He’s a master at teasing and keeping you right on the edge. His fingers weren’t nearly enough and wanted to be fucked with something much bigger.

“Please, no more teasing,” you beg.

He chuckles and smiles at you in the mirror, “I’m just doing what you asked honey. You’ll have to be more specific,” he spats.

Your hand reaches around and finds his straining cock in his pants. You carefully watch his face as you rub him through his pants. How it turns from smug to pleasure in just one motion.

“I need this, please. Don’t tease me anymore,” you plead. He grins at you in delight, finally hearing the words he’s been waiting for. He pulls his fingers out of you and puts them to his mouth, licking them clean. You take your leg off the counter and turn around to face him, lust reading through him again. He placed his hand around your neck, squeezing lightly as you release a soft moan. His eyes get drawn to the side of your neck that you tried to cover up with makeup but his keen eyes noticed the splotchy spot.

He groans as his index finger traces the spot he left, “I’m sorry about this, I couldn’t help myself,” he snickers.

“You were really trying to take a bite out of me hmm?” You joke

“You have no idea how much I’d love that,” he growls darkly. His mouth is back on your neck and sucking on the same spot he did before. You moan and push yourself more into his body. This bruise was never going to heal if you kept this up. You gasp at the urgency he has in his body, how he really feels like he is trying to take a bite out of you. You thought your need for him was insatiable, you think somehow his is even worse. He suddenly stops and picks you up, wrapping your legs around his torso.

He carries you to the bedroom where it’s low-lit once again and he has a few candles on. Your heart beats wildly and wait for him to make the next move. He sets you down and he casually walks to the window sill.

Your eyes linger on him, wanting him to break the tension in the room but he doesn’t budge. You’re so tempted to just walk out now while you still have your dignity and clothes left intact. You glance back at the door that he left cracked open but the booming of his voice gets your attention.

“You still being difficult hmm? Then I’m going to be difficult too” He says gruffly.

“Come here.”

The throbbing in your core continues and his eyes pull you in.

You walk over to him carefully and step in between his legs, looking up at him nervously.

“This is dangerous,” you whisper.

He glided his hand up your thigh, making you inhale sharply.

“Yes, I know. But that’s not going to stop you,”

His hands then move to the inside of your legs, feeling the soft flesh there, then zipping the skirt and pulling it down off your hips. He undoes the last remaining buttons on your shirt and flings it to the side, watching as it flutters to the ground in a crumpled fashion.

“I shouldn’t like it this much… the way you make me feel good,” you say a bit breathlessly, knowing that you need him more than you realize.

“I know honey, but don’t fight it, let me keep making you feel good. You have no idea how much I love being inside you,” he groans. Your heart thumps and your breathing is hitching with every salacious word he throws at you.

“Please make me feel good again. But this has to be the last time,” you say to assure yourself more than him.

A smile forms on his face and his fingers cup your pussy, rubbing his fingers through your sopping wet folds.

“I can do that for you honey, you feel nice and ready for me,” he teases, “I don’t like that last part though,” he growls. He grabs one of your legs and wraps it around his hip, slithering his hand down to your throbbing bud. He looks up at you in awe, so infatuated with every sound you make as your hips grind into his fingers. You feel him spreading your wetness that is now spilling onto the side of your thigh and rolling down. His fingers find it and he slides it up, bringing that finger to his mouth and licking it.

A moany cry comes out of you and you keep begging for him.

“Fuck baby you need it this bad huh?”

You nod your head profusely wanting him so bad. You don’t want to waste any more time and take your bra and panties off in one quick motion, needing his skin to touch you without any barriers.

“Yes, Elvis. Please,” you moan.

You were a moth to the flame and there was no escaping Elvis. He was just what you wanted and something about him made you feel whole. Something you haven’t had in the longest time.

As wrong as this all was, maybe it was the time to make a rational decision about being with Daniel. Was this an act of pure lust or was there something more…

None of that mattered now as he squeezes your hips and turns you around, your hands against the cold window bracing yourself for what he was going to give you.

“What are you doing?” You say surprised by his sudden forcefulness.

“Making you listen,” he hisses.

His tip rubs through your folds, causing an agonizing sensation through you having been teased for far too long. He doesn’t care, he’s in control and will keep waiting for as long as you can take it. Your whimpers escalate and you try to push your hips back into his length to get some kind of relief.

Suddenly you feel his hand wrap your hair in a tight grip and pulls it back, making you gasp with how rough he’s being.

“Here’s what’s going to happen, honey, I’ll fuck you, but I don’t want you leaving after. I have to show you more ways of how I can please you,” he says darkly.

“Elvis, I-I-I can’t stay here for long. I don’t want people getting suspicious,” you hiss over your shoulder at him. He yanks your hair again, making you cry out.

“What are they going to get suspicious about? That you come up here and beg for my cock and get no cleaning done hmm?,” He growls in your ear. Chills rush through your body and you freeze, obeying his orders whether you like it or not.

Before you know it, you feel his long length plunge into your wet heat, filling you so quickly and powerfully. You cry out his name, overwhelmed by the forcefulness. His grunts fill the room and the grip he has on your hips is tight, you’re sure that this is going to leave bruises there too.

“Ahh, Elvis,” you mewl.

His hips move faster and your breathing hitched every time you feel him get deeper inside of you.

“What honey, you can’t take this cock after begging me for it? You want me to stop,” He spats darkly, pulling his length completely out of you. You gasp, wanting him to fill you again and stop playing this game of his.

“Ah, no, please. I want you,” you beg.

He plunges his length back inside you, stuffing you to the hilt making both of you groan loudly.

“Good that’s what I thought,” he says snidely, “Tell me you’ll stay longer,” he groans with a snap of his hips making you gasp.

“N-no, I can’t,” you whimper out. His hand wraps around your throat, holding it there making you groan.

“Then I’ll stop fucking you, is that what you want?” He growls.

You’re completely at his mercy now but you’re more than okay with it. Your moans grow louder the harder he snaps his hips into you.

“No please, I-I-I’ll stay,” you manage to squeak out.

“Mhmm, such a good girl,” he growls.

The way he moves his hips is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. The way he can make you completely surrender to his every last breath.

You squeeze your eyes shut as you try to adjust to how he’s taking you. The way he’s handling you is different than last time. Yesterday he wanted to discover you, take his time and make you feel things you’ve never felt before but now, he’s fucking you like his life depends on it. Like he’s been dying for this.

You feel him quickly pull out of you and turn you around. Looking up into his eyes with shock and bewilderment, you see the dark bluish-grey pools there where the ones icy blue ones were. He must notice your stares as he looks down at your body.

“Are you okay? Your eyes are so dark,” you ask shakily.

“Don’t worry about that baby I’m better than okay right now,” he says quickly as he picks you up and rests you on the window sill ledge. The cold glass hits your back and you visibly shiver as you look at him with hunger in his eyes.

“Fuck,” he moans. He goes straight for your neck and sucks there, groaning and breathing in deeply as he does this. It feels so dangerous the way he possessively sucks at your neck, like he’s trying to mark you or something. Another part of you likes it, like he should be sucking on your neck for the whole world to see that you belong to him.

Oh god no. No, it can’t go that far. This is just sex it doesn’t mean anything more than that.

With a grunt, he’s back inside you and filling you so completely. This position feels more intense as you are both at eye level with each other and feel the rise and fall of your chests. You can’t hold on for much longer as he rubs your clit with his thumb and coaxes you to reach your orgasm.

“Yes, honey you feel so good. Taking my cock so well,” he coos in your ear. You shut your eyes and groan at him, angry at yourself for liking everything he ever says to you.

Your walls flutter around his length and he grins at you, grinding his hips into your faster to get you closer to your release. You keep your eyes shut, trying to savor these feelings he’s giving you but your focus gets snapped away as you feel his hand on your jaw. He kisses you passionately, attacking your lips with his and your tongues swirl against each other. He breaks the kiss and looks at you with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

“Cum for me, show me how good I make you feel,” he demands.

Your body shakes and you squeeze around his length, making you cry out his name over and over. It’s all too much and somehow you’ll know you’ll be wanting more later. He slows his pace and continues to watch you moan through your orgasm. Clinging onto his arms, you gasp and try to get ahold of your emotions.

Elvis quickly pulls out of you and you watch as his hand wraps around his cock, wet and sticky from your arousal. He groans as he slowly pulls his foreskin back and exposes his red tip and rubs his thumb there. He keeps this slow pace as you can’t look away from what he’s doing to himself. Wishing you could be the one to do that.

He looks up at you and grabs your hand, pulling you off the ledge. He wraps your hand around his length and you jerk him slowly, watching his face form into ecstasy.

“Make me cum baby,” he says low. You nod your head and start moving your hand faster, hearing the slick sounds your hand on his length is making. Watching him get off like this is so unbelievably attractive and makes you want him to take you again. His breathing labors and you feel him twitch in your hand. Quickly, you sink to your knees and pump his load on your breasts. He looks down at you in awe, so lust driven and filled with pleasure. You keep looking up at him as he continues to cum hot thick spurts on you. You don’t understand why this is so hot but you can admit that it was just as enjoyable to him as it was for you.

The last few drops come out of him and he’s left breathless, biting his lip as he looks at your hungrily, watching the spurts of his cum drop down your breasts.

“Fuck, you know exactly what I wanted huh?” He smirks.

“I had a feeling you might like it,” you say coyly.

He walks swiftly to the side of the bed, giving you a great view of his behind leaving you on your knees on the floor. He pulls the handle of the top drawer of the small nightstand and pulls out a Polaroid camera. Walking back to you and sinking onto his knees too, he looks you over.

“May I?” He asks as he raises the camera up. “You look too good to not be photographed,” he marvels to you.

You nod your head before you can form a coherent thought. Placing your hands underneath your breasts, you lift them slightly and squeeze, giving him the best view imaginable. You look directly into the camera lens, showing off your big doe eyes, and wait for him to take the picture. He grins at you and raises the camera to his eye, leaning back, and pressing the shutter button.

Click.

He pulls the film out of the top of the camera and shakes it. He set them down on the ground and takes your breasts in his hands, rubbing your nipples causing another electric shock into your system.

“God you make me want to do so many bad things to you,” he whimpers softly.

You blush at his words and look down at the discarded Polaroid, capturing you covered in his seed and for him to keep for as long as he wants.

“Well I told you I’d stay, you better show me some of those things you want,” you look back up at him challengingly, biting your lip to keep yourself from smiling. You know you’re in deep trouble with him, sinful thoughts filling your head with the most alluring man to ever exist sitting right in front of you. And lord, what lovely sins you’ll commit with him.

•

•

•

Tagging 🖤:

@powerofelvis @burninlovebutler @neptuneismysister @velvetelvis @ccab @presleyenterprise @elvispresleyxoxo @loving-elvis

@prompted-wordsmith @sillybookmarks @dkayfixates @rosepresley @ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog . @myradiaz @lookingforrainbows @elvispresleygf @tacozebra051 @thatbanditqueen

@18Ikpeters @flwrs4aust @emma181873 @austinswhitewolf @eliseinmemphis @everythingelvispresley @chasingwildflowers @idontwanttoputanything @ohjustpeachy @elvisalltheway101 @austinsmutler @kingdomforapony @generoustreemystic @kendralavon7 @lettersfromvenus @claire-elvisgirl

@ashtag6887 @burnthheparaphilia @richardslady121 @jacqueline19997 @returntopresley @iloveelvis @rimartin11 @that-hotdog @louisejoy86

[chicgeekgirl89]

Fandom: 911 Lone Star Characters: T.K. Strand, Carlos Reyes Rating: T Summary: In the early days of their budding relationship, Carlos and T.K. discover some of each other's more adorable characteristics. Or, five times Carlos learns adorable things about T.K. and one time T.K. learns something adorable about Carlos. A/N: So what had happened was, I wrote "Glasses and Smut and Your Naked Butt" and then I had too many cute little scenarios to fit into a 5+1 so I wrote a second one. Cheers! Read on AO3

Kitty

Carlos has never met anyone who can go from zero to sixty the way T.K. can. He barely has the Camaro in park before T.K. is leaning across the console, pulling him in for a dirty, dirty kiss full of tongue and teeth and desire. Normally Carlos would protest this kind of activity in the car, but they’re right in front of the condo, it’s late, and therefore unlikely that anyone will see them.

So he lets T.K. go on and doesn’t say a word as he somehow maneuvers himself across the console and into Carlos’ lap, which, quite honestly, is where Carlos wanted him for the entirety of dinner anyway. He’d been so enchanted with the idea of actually dating T.K. instead of just being his fuck buddy that he hadn’t quite thought through how hard it would be to keep his hands off of him in public.

“Put the seat back,” T.K. says breathlessly in between kisses.

Carlos follows his orders, both of them slowly reclining downward toward the backseat, while somehow managing never to fully detach from one another. Carlos’ breath catches as T.K. bites into his earlobe. “Do you want to take this inside?” he finally asks, when it seems like T.K. isn’t going to be content with just a heavy make out session.

T.K. pauses long enough to flash him a smirk. “No. Live a little Reyes.”

If anyone else uttered those words Carlos would push them off and call it a night. But T.K. Strand has cast some kind of spell on him, so Carlos lays back and watches greedily as T.K. sits up and starts to take off his shirt. His eyes follow the motion of T.K.’s hands as they slowly work at his buttons and then suddenly freeze. “Oh my god!” T.K. yells.

“What? What?!” Carlos asks in a panic, sitting up abruptly and almost hitting his head on the car’s roof.

“There’s a cat!”

“There’s—what?” Carlos asks in confusion, his heart still pounding away in his chest having imagined that T.K. was seeing an ax murderer or a bear or Mr. Johnson who sometimes walks around with his bathrobe open.

“There’s a cat out there!”

Before Carlos can formulate a response, T.K. has vaulted off of his lap and out of the car leaving Carlos shocked and alone. He takes a second to adjust his pants before getting up and following his boyfriend.

T.K. is kneeling on the sidewalk, hand outstretched, making little “pspsps” noises. 

“T.K. what are you doing?” Carlos asks, shifting back and forth, still trying to alleviate the situation in his pants that his boyfriend started but did not finish.

“There’s a cat. Look! Come here kitty, that’s right, who’s a good kitty?” 

A black cat with white markings on its chin and paws wanders over to T.K. and starts to rub up against his hand. “Oh, god, T.K. be careful, it could have fleas,” Carlos says.

“You don’t have fleas, do you? No you don’t,” T.K. says, using a voice that Carlos has never heard before. “It’s too well taken care of to be a stray. No collar though. Do you know whose it is? It must be one of your neighbors.”

“I’ve never seen it before,” Carlos says. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

“We can’t leave it!” T.K. says. “It must have slipped out. Someone will be looking for it. It can’t stay out here all night alone.”

“T.K.,” Carlos sighs. “What do you want me to do? It’s late. We can’t exactly go knock on doors.”

T.K. fixes him with a look as he scoops the cat up into his arms and cradles it like a baby, the cat perfectly content to let him. “Are you a police officer or not? Start police officering.”

“Pretty sure cats are more of a firefighter thing,” Carlos says wryly.

T.K. squares his shoulders. “Carlos. This baby is out here alone and afraid. We need to find out who it—” T.K. glances down at the cat’s belly and back up, “who he belongs to and get him home.”

Carlos feels a smile twisting at his lips. T.K. looks adorable standing there in the glow of the streetlight, fiercely protecting an animal he met two minutes ago. It’s precious really.

“He might belong to Mrs. O’Grady,” Carlos says. “She has like five cats. Let’s go see if her light is still on.”

“Thank you,” T.K. says in relief. “Come on little buddy, let’s go find your home.

Mornings

The first time Carlos wakes up with T.K. next to him, it’s one of the most thrilling moments of his entire life. He feels warm and safe and happy and there’s a sense of victory in it too because T.K. has held him at arm’s length for so long. To finally see his patience rewarded feels like a huge step forward. Staying the night is something couples do. It’s permanent, not just chasing a high.

He watches T.K. for a while, memorizing how he looks in the soft light of the morning, the way his mouth hangs open a little bit, his arms and legs splayed out awkwardly across the mattress, his hair a glorious wreck.

This is a T.K. that few people get to see, and Carlos is elated to finally be one of them.

Eventually nature calls and he slips from his bed to take care of business and then go make them some coffee. He assumes T.K. will wake up and wander out when the smell starts to waft upstairs, but he doesn’t.

Carlos goes to check on him and finds him in exactly the same position as half an hour before. He chalks it up to a very successful night of sex and heads back down to start working on french toast.

He takes his time, enjoying the feeling of cooking for someone other than just himself. Another thirty minutes roll by as he cooks and there’s still no sign of T.K. when he’s done.

He plates up their French toast, bacon, pours them each a cup of coffee, setting it all on the table before making his way upstairs.

T.K. has wrapped himself in the sheet and pulled it up over his head like a cocoon. Carlos smiles and is tempted to snap a picture, but instead he kneels on the mattress and gently pulls the blankets away from T.K.’s face. “Good morning,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to T.K.’s forehead.

Nothing.

He sits down on the mattress and puts his hand on T.K.’s hip. “It’s time to wake up,” he whispers teasingly, shaking him a little bit.

Still nothing.

What the hell?

Now he’s actually concerned. “T.K., hey,” he says, shaking him a little more harshly. 

“Gowayyyy.”

The words are slurred together and punctuated by a swipe of T.K.’s arm that narrowly misses hitting Carlos in the ribs. 

Okay, so at least he’s alive. That’s something. 

“I made breakfast,” Carlos says softly, brushing his fingers through T.K.’s hair. Surely that will be enough to get him going.

It only gets him another grumble. 

Carlos sits back, struggling to decide if he’s amused or disappointed. He’s just about decided to go back downstairs and eat his breakfast alone when T.K.’s arm slaps the empty expanse of mattress between them and then a sort of muffled sound escapes him, that bears a passing resemblance to, “Come here.”

Carlos’ eyebrows rise and he has to stifle a laugh as T.K.’s arm flops around again and then finally connects with Carlos’ thigh. He curls his hand around it and gives a feeble tug, not enough to actually move him, but enough to indicate that he wants Carlos to come closer.

“I’m confused. Do you want me to leave or stay?” Carlos asks in amusement.

T.K. turns his head so that he’s facing Carlos, even though his eyes are still closed, and gives another tug. Carlos chuckles and obliges, sliding down so that he’s parallel to T.K. on his side.

T.K. immediately curls into him, mashing his face into Carlos’ chest and hooking a leg over his hip. Carlos quirks a fond smile and runs a hand through T.K.’s hair.

“D’you mke me brkfst?” T.K.’s voice is scratchy but slightly more intelligible now.

“I did,” Carlos says. “I thought it would be a nice way to start the day.”

T.K. hums into his chest and then, with a valiant effort, opens his eyes and squints up at Carlos. “I hate mornings,” he says.

Carlos bursts out laughing. “Yeah, I kind of figured that out,” he says, stroking a hand through T.K.’s hair.

His eyes close again and he snuggles more tightly into Carlos. “What did you make me?”

“French toast and bacon. And coffee.”

T.K. hums against him. “That sounds good.”

“Sooo…are you going to get up and eat it?” Carlos asks.

“I’m trying.”

“This is you trying?”

T.K. cracks one eyelid. “It’s a process.”

“So I see. How do you manage to get up for calls at work?”

“That’s different.”

Carlos fails to see how, but he doesn’t push it. “What if I bring your breakfast up here?”

That gets him two eyeballs. “You don’t like food in bed.”

That’s true. The thought of crumbs between his sheets makes Carlos shudder. But breakfast is ready and T.K. is not, and he looks so damn cute all bed rumpled and sleepy that it’s making Carlos throw some rules out the window. “I’ll make an exception this time.”

T.K. rolls onto his back, a smile on his face as he stretches and puts his hands behind his head. “This house comes with five star service.”

“This is a special occasion. Don’t get used to it,” Carlos says, giving him a peck on the nose before rising to go get their food. 

But the fact is, T.K. could ask Carlos to bring him breakfast in bed every day for the rest of his life and he’d do it. That’s just how it’s going to be. 

Chat

Carlos is pulled from sleep by someone’s voice. At first he thinks he might have fallen asleep in front of the TV or maybe with a podcast going. But the more he rouses, the more he realizes the sound isn’t steady and clear enough to be either one of those.

He blinks a few times, trying to get his bearings. His room is dark, it’s clearly still the middle of the night, and T.K. is pressed up against him, head pillowed against his chest.

The sound stops and Carlos listens intently, his heart now speeding up in his chest as he tries to figure out if it was real or a dream. If it was real…is there someone in the condo? 

He’s about ready to slide out of bed and grab his off-duty weapon to go investigate when T.K. lets out a big snuffling sound and then says, “nthebthtb.”

Carlos relaxes at the realization that the sound was just his boyfriend and gently brushes a hand over his arm. “You okay babe?” he whispers into the darkness.

T.K.’s face contracts into a scowl. “‘nthe bathtub.”

“What?”

“Put it in the bathtub.”

The words are clearer now, but Carlos is beyond confused. “Put what in the bathtub?”

T.K.’s head whips up and turns in Carlos’ general direction, his eyes still closed, his neck bent at an awkward angle. “The alligator!”

Carlos shifts so that he’s sitting more upright and looks down at T.K. with raised eyebrows. “T.K. there’s no alligator.”

“No you…you have to put it in the bathtub,” T.K. demands again.

He looks so distressed that Carlos has to bite back a laugh. “Okay, I’ll put the alligator in the bathtub.”

T.K. mumbles something unintelligible and snuggles in against Carlos again before whipping his head up one more time. “And socks!”

“The alligator needs socks?”

“No.” T.K. pauses for so long that Carlos starts to worry that he’s going to get a crick in his neck before finally saying, “Don’t let him eat…the purple ones.”

Then he flops back down and lets out a snort before seeming to go fully back to sleep, leaving Carlos amused and very curious.

Carlos has an early shift and T.K. is still sound asleep when he leaves, so he doesn’t get to mention anything about their bizarre middle-of-the-night conversation until he gets home at the end of the day.

“Hey babe!” T.K. says cheerfully, coming to give him a sweet kiss as he walks through the door. “I made Italian wedding soup and got bread from that new bakery down the street. Should be ready in like fifteen minutes.”

“Sounds good,” Carlos says as he finishes removing his shoes. He reaches into his work bag. “I got you a present.”

T.K.’s already halfway back into the kitchen, but he turns back, surprise on his face. “A present? Wait,” he frowns. “Did I forget something? Is today—“

“Relax,” Carlos says with a chuckle. “You didn’t forget anything. This is a just-because gift.”

T.K.’s face brightens again. “Oh well in that case, gimme gimme!”

He holds out his hands and Carlos drops a small plastic bag into them. T.K. reaches inside and pulls out a pair of bright purple socks. “Wow, thanks babe!”

“I promise not to let the alligator eat them,” Carlos says, trying to smother the smile on his face.

T.K.’s brow furrows. “What alligator?”

“The alligator in the bathtub.”

There’s a beat of silence. “Did you hit your head today?” T.K. asks. Then he freezes and addresses himself, a concerned look on his face. “Wait, did I hit my head today?”

Carlos full on laughs and decides to put him out of his misery. “Last night in the middle of the night you woke me up to tell me to put an alligator in the bathtub. And then you were very insistent that he not eat purple socks.”

“Oh my god.” A blush forms on T.K.’s cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I—sometimes I sleep talk. It used to happen a lot when I was a kid and I mostly grew out of it, but once in a while it still happens. Usually only if I’m really tired. It’s been so long since I’ve spent the night with anybody, I didn’t think to tell you.”

He looks so adorably embarrassed that Carlos reaches for his hips and pulls him in so their bodies are flush against one another, needing to touch him. He quirks a smile. “That,” he says, “is very cute.”

“No it’s not, it’s embarrassing,” T.K. says, squirming a little bit. “Sometimes I say really weird stuff.”

“Trust me when I tell you that is not the weirdest middle of the night conversation I’ve had,” Carlos assures him. “You wouldn’t believe how many drunk and stoned people think they’re Jesus when they’re hauled into lock-up at three am. I’ll take your alligators any day.”

T.K. snorts. “I have definitely never claimed to be a deity.”

Carlos raises an eyebrow and bites his lip before saying, “That’s true, although I do seem to remember you saying the Lord’s name an awful lot when we went to bed last night.”

T.K. shoves his bicep good-naturedly. “What I say in the throes of passion is supposed to stay in the throes of passion Carlos.”

“So what you’re telling me is that anything we say in bed is privileged information?”

“Yes.”

“Mmm, good to know.”

Thief

Where the hell is his APD t-shirt? 

Carlos stands in front of his closet, hands on his hips as he stares into its depths, completely baffled. He’d worn it to a workout two weeks ago and he’s sure he put it into the laundry. He had to have. He’s checked his gym bag, the trunk of the Camaro, his locker at work, the laundry basket itself, and the washer, just in case it had gotten stuck to the side and he hadn’t noticed. It’s been three full days of searching and now he’s sure. It’s not here. 

It’s not anywhere.

Which doesn’t make any sense. Because t-shirts don’t just get up and walk away. 

It’s not that big of a deal. It’s only a t-shirt after all. One from his brief stint on the department softball league a few years ago. It’s just that Carlos is a careful, meticulous person. There’s a system to his laundry. And now, after all these years, it’s really eating at him that it might have failed. 

He’s about to dive back into round five of removing every single thing from his closet, when he hears the front door open. “Carlos? You home?”

It’s T.K.’s voice and it sounds off, meaning Carlos immediately abandons his search and goes downstairs to soothe whatever has his boyfriend’s spirits down.

T.K.’s doing that thing where he kind of pulls back into himself, and it takes some coaxing for Carlos to tease the full story of his shitty day out of him. Then there’s cuddling, kissing, dinner, and more kissing before Carlos offers to run T.K. a bath and let him relax for a bit. 

He’s finishing up the dishes when T.K. comes back downstairs and wraps his arms around Carlos’ waist from behind. He smells like the lavender scented soap that Carlos left out for him and Carlos breathes it in before turning around to give him another kiss. “Better?” he asks, running a hand through T.K.’s hair, down to cup the nape of his neck.

“Yeah,” T.K. says. “Thank you.” He looks up and Carlos can still see some vulnerability in his eyes. “Is it okay if I stay here tonight?”

It’s on the tip of Carlos’ tongue to tell him he can stay every night for the rest of his life if he wants, but he’s learned T.K. well enough to know now isn’t the moment. “Of course,” he says instead. “You’re always welcome here.”

He’s about to ask if T.K. needs to borrow something to sleep in, but then he looks down and the words die on his tongue. He takes a step back, brow furrowing.

“What?” T.K. asks. “Is something wrong?”

“Is that my APD shirt?” Carlos asks.

He already knows the answer, but he’s so surprised it’s the only thing that comes out. 

“Um…no?” T.K. says, trying for innocent and failing miserably.

“T.K. it has my name on the back,” Carlos says.

“There are lots of people with the last name Reyes in Austin.”

“Right and I’m sure so many of them played on the department softball team in 2018,” Carlos replies. “Where did you find it? I’ve been looking for it everywhere.”

“It was in your drawer,” T.K. says, but he’s no longer meeting Carlos’ eyes. 

“It was not in my drawer,” Carlos says. “I looked. Several times.”

T.K. shrugs. “Well you’re welcome that I found it then.”

Carlos narrows his eyes. “You didn’t find it. You stole it.”

T.K.’s jaw drops. “Carlos. You’re accusing me, a brave, loyal member of the AFD, who serves his community on a daily basis, of stealing?”

“It’s not an accusation, it’s a fact,” Carlos says, tapping a finger against T.K.’s chest. “You stole this out of my laundry.”

“Not sure those charges are going to stick in court, officer.”

“T.K.” Carlos growls out his name.

“Okay, fine, I stole it!” T.K. says. “I was getting ready for work here last week after you left and I realized I’d forgotten a shirt to wear to the station. It was in your clean laundry basket so I grabbed it and wore it. I was going to wash it and bring it back but then…”

He looks embarrassed so Carlos softens his gaze and drops the teasing facade. “Then what?” he asks gently.

“It was just so soft and comfortable and…it kind of felt like being with you. Even when I wasn’t. So I kept it.” He looks up and scrunches his nose a little. “Sorry?”

Carlos is speechless. His heart feels so soft that it’s making his knees go a little weak. He cups T.K.’s face in both of his hands. “You don’t need to be sorry. You can keep it.”

“Yeah?” T.K. asks.

“Yeah,” Carlos assures him. “But we can also find a drawer for you, if you want. So you can keep some of your own stuff here.”

“You’re just saying that so I don’t steal more of your clothes.”

Carlos scrunches his nose, making a silly face so T.K. knows he’s teasing. “Maybe. A little.” He presses a kiss to T.K.’s lips. “But it’s also because I want you here.”

“Thanks,” T.K. says softly, that warm, reassured glow back in his eyes. “So…is this when I tell you that I also have a pair of your shorts? And some socks?”

Filibuster

T.K. is sitting on the couch when Carlos comes down from his shower. This is a little surprising only because Carlos thought T.K. might join him in the shower. It doesn’t usually take much more than a light hint. Often the phrase, “I’m going to take a shower” is enough to get T.K. on his feet and stripping off his clothes, but today he’s right where Carlos left him, staring at his phone.

“I’m making stuffed peppers for dinner. Does that sound good?” Carlos asks.

“Yeah, sure,” T.K. says quickly, like he’s very distracted. “Did you know there’s a type of tarantula that keeps frogs as pets?”

Carlos blinks a few times, as he takes this information in. “No, I did not know that,” he says, heading for the kitchen to find the peppers.

T.K. gets up and follows him. “There’s this type of frog in South America that evolved to taste bad. So tarantulas won’t eat them and instead they keep them to eat all the bugs and stuff around their homes and keep their spider babies safe. They’re like a tiny little tarantula pet cat.”

Carlos turns around and nearly knocks T.K. over, not having realized that his boyfriend was standing so close behind him. He reaches out and gently moves him out of the way as he heads for the stove and begins to prep the filling for the peppers. 

“I just think it’s so cool, two completely different species living together like that,” T.K. continues, hopping up onto the counter, that hyper-focused look in his eye. “Nature is amazing. Forming symbiotic relationships all the time.”

“That is cool,” Carlos says. He chops the peppers in half and rinses them out to remove the seeds.

“Sharks have that too,” T.K. continues. “Those little fish that attach themselves on and eat all the scraps from the shark’s meals. What are they called?”

“I’m not sure.”

“I’ll look it up.”

For a moment there’s only the sound of ground turkey sizzling on the stove as T.K. busies himself in his phone. “Oh right. Remora fish.”

“Of course,” Carlos says in amusement. “How could I have forgotten that?”

“And rhinos! With the birds that are always hanging around!” T.K. sighs. “They’re so cute.”

Carlos walks over and pats the side of T.K.’s thigh. “Move please,” he says mildly, waiting until T.K. shifts over enough that he can get into the drawer that’s hidden behind his legs.  He extracts the spoon he needs and then taps the space again indicating that T.K. can move back, which he does, still talking. “We had a pet frog in my class when I was in third grade. His name was Sir Henry. He died on the hundredth day of school.” At this T.K. looks a little glum. Then he perks up. “But my teacher got a hamster after that and we got to vote on a name. We picked Pikachu.”

“Sounds fun.”

“I wonder if hamsters have a symbiotic relationship with another animal,” T.K. says, picking his phone back up again. “Hm. Nope,” he says after a minute. “But, hamsters will eat their babies if you don’t separate them. Oh! Did you know that it’s illegal to own just one guinea pig in Switzerland? You have to have two because they’re social animals and they’ll get lonely. But then in Peru people eat them for special occasions. Isn’t that crazy how different those two countries are?”

“Almost as crazy as spiders keeping frogs as pets.”

“I wish I had a pet frog,” T.K. says. “Do you think Buttercup would eat it?”

“I’ve seen Buttercup eat his own poop. Yes. I think he would eat a frog if he could catch it. Do you want your filling spicy or not spicy?”

“Spicy,” T.K. says immediately. “I have an old aquarium tank, it could live in there and I wouldn’t take it out if Buttercup was around—wait, do frogs get lonely? Would I need to get two? What if they had babies? Then I’d have hundreds of frogs and I don’t think the tank would hold more than a couple.”

“An overcrowded frog tank does seem uncomfortable. Do you want dressing on your salad?”

“Do you have that organic balsamic still?”

“I think there’s some left.”

“That then please.” He steals a piece of carrot and pops it into his mouth, talking around it. “Maybe I’ll get a tarantula instead. I think a tarantula would be okay by itself.”

“Please do not get a tarantula,” Carlos says with a soft chuckle.

This catches T.K.’s attention and he smiles. “Are you afraid of spiders?”

Carlos wipes his hands on a towel and goes to him, bracing his hands on the counter on either side of T.K.’s legs. “I’m not afraid. I just have a healthy respect for them.”

T.K. eyes him, his mouth twisting into a smile. “You’ve been letting me talk about spiders and frogs for like half an hour.”

“I have.”

“You don’t think that’s annoying?”

Carlos kisses the tip of his nose. “Not in the slightest. You’re cute when you chat at me.”

The fact is he loves it. His home has been so devoid of this wild energy and now that it’s here he doesn’t know how he ever lived without it. 

T.K. drops his eyes, a slight flush creeping over his cheeks. “Thanks.”

“I did miss you in my shower though,” Carlos tells him. “So next time you decide to go down an internet rabbit hole, maybe you could do it when I’m not all naked and wet.”

T.K. bites his lip, his eyes lighting up. “I will work on my timing.”

+1: Hangry

T.K. is delighted to be picking Carlos up for a change. He’s borrowed his dad’s truck for the night (he’s going to get his own car soon…ish…) to surprise Carlos with a fun evening out.

“Hey,” he says excitedly as Carlos slides into the passenger seat, leaning in for a kiss. “You look great.”

Carlos is in jeans and a black polo that is juuuuuust a tad bit too tight in the best kind of way. It nearly distracts T.K. enough to cancel the date and drag Carlos back upstairs to his bed instead, but he forces himself to focus. He knows Carlos has had kind of a rough week at work and he’s determined to make tonight extra fun to make up for it.

“Hey,” Carlos says, his smile genuine, although there’s a little tightness around his eyes that T.K. wants to soothe away with his thumb and butterfly kisses. “Thanks for picking me up. It’s good to see you.”

The way those words melt him inside. Carlos is so good at saying little things that to anyone else would mean almost nothing; but to T.K. they mean the world. He still hasn’t quite gotten used to how much Carlos likes having him around.

“How was your day?” T.K. asks as he pulls out into traffic, carefully navigating between cars that are driving way too slowly for his taste.

“It was um,” Carlos stumbles over his words as T.K. hits the brakes and then accelerates around a Ford Fiesta that he deems far too slow. “It was fine. Just one of those weeks, you know?”

“Yeah,” T.K. says sympathetically. “Well don’t worry. Tonight we’re going to forget all about work. I promise.”

Minutes later T.K. neatly swings them into a parking spot. “Oh,” Carlos says in confusion as he takes in where they are. “I thought we were going to dinner.”

“We are,” T.K. says. “But, I thought we’d do something fun first. I haven’t played mini golf in forever!”

The 126 had driven by the course on a call the other day, the brightly colored animals and windmills catching his eye out the engine’s window. It seemed like the perfect way to spend an evening. Just relaxing and being silly with each other.

“Right,” Carlos says, something strange flickering in his eyes. 

“You hate mini golf,” T.K. says, feeling crestfallen. “Damn it I should have asked. I’m sorry. It just looked so fun and you’ve had a hard week and I—“

“T.K., T.K., take a breath,” Carlos says, reaching over and taking his hand. “I don’t hate mini golf.”

“We don’t have to stay,” T.K. says, still sensing some odd hesitancy in his boyfriend.

“No let’s do it,” Carlos says. “I haven’t played in forever either. It’ll be fun.”

He’s already sliding out of the car, so T.K. follows him, pushing aside the doubt he’s feeling. Hopefully Carlos’ reticence is just work related.

Hopefully.

They grab some clubs and balls (T.K. chooses green, Carlos picks blue) and then head out to the first hole. 

It goes well enough for a bit, they’re both moderately terrible. Carlos keeps hitting his ball too gently so that it comes rolling back toward him instead of up and over all the little hills, while T.K. takes to swinging with all his strength, his ball ping-ponging around into other greens so he has to go chasing after it.

“That’s a mulligan!” he declares for the third time when his ball hops an embankment and goes splashing down into a little pond.

“You can’t call them all mulligans T.K.,” Carlos says with a sigh that sounds a tad impatient.

“Why not?” T.K. says. “Who are you going to report me to? The police? Oh wait. It’s a little late for that.”

He means it to be flirty but Carlos just gives him sort of a strained smile and a half hearted “haha.”

When they get to the next hole Carlos’ ball does the same thing it’s done every other time and comes rolling straight back out again. “Are you kidding me?!” he cries, a little too loudly and angrily.

T.K. frowns at him, trying to get a read on what’s happening here. Carlos seems off. Like super off.

T.K. walks up and places his own ball down, but before he can swing Carlos says, “Can you please take a step back?”

T.K. lowers his club. “What?”

“You’re too far into the green. It’s cheating.”

He blinks a few times. “Cheating? First I can’t call a mulligan now I’m cheating? It’s just a game Carlos.”

“Yeah, a game that has rules that you’re not following,” Carlos insists. “You’re not supposed to be that far into the green. And don’t think I didn’t see you basically slide your ball into the last hole instead of putting. That one shouldn’t even count.”

“Okay, what is going on here?” T.K. says, feeling annoyance snap sharply at his good mood. “You’re kind of being a dick. If you didn’t want to play mini golf you could have just said so.”

“I told you I like playing mini golf!”

“Well you’re definitely not acting like it!” T.K. fires back. “You’re acting like you’d rather be anywhere else!”

“Why are you putting words into my mouth? Just take your turn and play fair T.K.!”

“Uh, excuse me?” 

The pimply faced teenager who gave them their clubs and balls earlier waves at both of them. “Can we help you?” T.K. asks.

“Hi, yeah, I’m sorry, we’ve had some complaints that you two are fighting. Can you try to keep it down? This is a family establishment.”

T.K. looks at Carlos whose face is going red with embarrassment. “Sorry,” he says quickly. “Won’t happen again.”

The kid leaves and T.K. frowns, putting his hands on his hips. “What is going on with you?” he asks. “I’ve never seen you like this before.”

“I don’t know,” Carlos says sullenly, refusing to meet T.K.’s eyes.

His stomach suddenly gives a loud rumble and all the pieces click into place in T.K.’s brain. “Oh,” he says, annoyance and anger settling back down where they belong. “Okay. I get it.”

He turns and heads for the car.

“What? Get what?” Carlos asks as he follows along, confusion evident on his face.

T.K. stops next to his dad’s truck. “You’re hangry.”

Carlos sputters in indignation. “Hangry?”

“You know. When you get so hungry that the entire world feels like it’s shitting on you and you get all cranky until you eat something. Did you eat lunch today?

“I—“ Carlos considers this. “No. We had to skip it because a call came in.”

T.K. nods in satisfaction. “See? Hangry. Don’t worry. We’ll get you all fixed up in no time.”

He drives to their favorite taco truck. His dinner plans had been bigger and fancier, but this is an emergency. He plops Carlos down at a picnic table (still protesting and whining away, only furthering T.K.’s satisfaction that he’s right) and then marches over to the truck to order two of everything.

He waits until Carlos has wolfed down one birria taco and one fish taco before speaking. “Better?” he asks.

Carlos wipes his mouth on a napkin and reaches for a third taco, chicken this time. “These are so good,” he replies, shoving half of it into his mouth like a man who hasn’t been fed in months. “Thanks.”

“Mhm. So next time, maybe just tell me you’re hangry instead of acting like you put your cranky pants on to see me,” T.K. says.

The sigh that leaves Carlos is long suffering. “I already said I was sorry in the car.”

“Buuuut you didn’t tell me I was right.”

This gets him a withering look. “Do you really need to hear me say it?”

“I mean…I wouldn’t hate it.” God he loves teasing this man. It’s so easy to get a rise out of him.

Carlos huffs. “Fine. You were right. Thank you for feeding me because I was hangry.”

“Aw, you’re so cute when you’re annoyed.”

[intheticklecloset]

Second Years (Haikyuu!!)

This fic was commissioned by @bumblebeedrizzzle. Thank you!

Primary Universe: Second Year

Summary: Hinata and Kageyama contemplate their upcoming season with a changed team, and Kageyama decides his friend needs some cheering up.

**THIS FIC IS SPOILER FREE!**

A/N: I'm actually really glad to have gotten this request (even though technically Haikyuu isn't on my commissions list - I made an exception) because when I look at the last several fics I've posted for this fandom, they were all predominantly lee!Kageyama. I love lee!Kags, obviously, but it was time Hinata got some love, too! So thank you for the commission!

Also, if I continue writing for Haikyuu, I feel like I've done pretty much all I can with the anime storyline, so I'll likely write about our boys as second years going forward for the most part. I will always let you know if there are spoilers ahead! <3

Anyway - on to the main event! I hope you enjoy! ^^

Word Count: 1,833

~~~

“I can’t believe Noya is a third-year now,” Hinata mused as he walked his bike up the hill the team used for workouts, Kageyama walking at his side with his hands in the pockets of his hoodie.

His friend snorted. “Forget Noya, I can’t believe Tanaka is a third-year. Neither of them really act like it.”

“Kinnoshita will keep them in line.”

“He’ll try to.”

“Who do you think will be captain next year? Tsukishima?”

Kageyama shuddered and growled, “I hope not.”

Hinata laughed, though it came out halfhearted. Silence fell between them for a couple of minutes as they focused on climbing the last crest of the hill to where it leveled out before rounding up into the second half. Once there, the redhead slowed his bike to a stop and glanced out at the city view. It was getting dark out, but there was still enough light in the sky for them to make it home before sundown.

Kageyama took a few more steps before realizing his friend had stopped. He turned, saw the look on Hinata’s face, and frowned. “What’s the matter?”

To his surprise, Hinata didn’t try to shrug off his question with a claim to be fine or a forced smile. Instead, he considered a moment before asking, “Does it feel off to you?”

“Does what feel off?” Kageyama asked, striding back over to where he stood.

“After everything that happened last year, doesn’t it feel kind of…wrong to not have Daichi and the others with us?”

“It’s different, sure, but it’s just the natural way of things.” Kageyama glanced out at the cityscape as well. “They had to graduate and move on. This year Noya and Tanaka will graduate, and then we will next year. We’ll all move on and become adults. It’s what happens.”

Hinata scoffed. “Okay, Mom.” He glanced up at his friend with an even deeper frown. “Don’t you miss them at all?”

Kageyama suddenly realized what Hinata was getting at. He didn’t want reassurance or lectures about how “life goes on.” Not from him. He was hurting, and he wanted someone to understand that. So, with a sigh, the taller boy relented.

“Yeah, I do. Especially Suga.”

“Doesn’t it seem weird that we’re just…doing another season without them?”

“I guess so.” Kageyama considered for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, it does. I got so used to Daichi’s leadership and Suga’s guidance that it feels weird not having them around to help anymore. And since none of the third-years are setters, I’m the senior on that position and these new guys are looking to me for guidance, and…”

He trailed off, and Hinata nodded. “Yeah. You’re kind of in charge of that position and you’re not ready for it.”

Kageyama couldn’t even argue with that. “Exactly. I wish I’d had another year with Suga.”

“I wish all of us could do last season over now that we’ve learned so much. I really feel like…”

This time Hinata trailed off, and when the silence descended, neither of them tried to break it for a while. It felt right, somehow, having this moment to really let it sink in that their friends were off doing other things now.

After a few minutes, Kageyama let out a breath. “But Kinnoshita is doing well as captain so far, and these first-years have promise. Really the only thing I can’t stand is that Tsukishima decided to stick around.”

Hinata snorted out a laugh. “You guys really don’t get along.”

“Understatement.” Kageyama smirked, then glanced at Hinata again. He looked like he was feeling a tad better, but not by much. He nudged him. “You know we’re gonna be fine, right?”

“Of course I do,” Hinata replied, though his voice lacked conviction.

“Yeah, I definitely believe that you believe that, boke.”

“I do!”

“You’re going to have to convince me a little harder than that.” With a smirk, Kageyama suddenly grabbed him around the waist and pulled him against his chest, making him drop his bike and yelp as fingers suddenly dug into his sides.

“Eeeek! Kahahahahageyama, wait, nohohohohohoho!” Hinata cried, giggles spilling out of him as he squirmed uselessly in his taller friend’s grip.

“You can’t fool me. I know when you’re just toughing it out.” The setter chuckled and hugged him tighter, aiming for his ribs. “Come on, lighten up, boke.”

“I’m light! I’m lihihihihihihihight! Kageyahahahahama!” Hinata’s laughter rose in pitch once his friend got to his weakest spot. Thankfully he wasn’t going too hard yet, but it was still enough to make him cackle and try to pry his arms away. “You jeheheheheheherk! I’m fihihihihihihihine!”

“Liar.”

“EEEEK!!” Hinata screeched when his friend found that spot along his last few ribs that had him absolutely howling with laughter, frantically trying to escape his grip to no avail. “KAGEYAMA NOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!”

Kageyama chuckled, deciding he wanted to make it a bit worse by hefting the little spiker up into the air so he really had nowhere to go and nothing to ground on. Hinata squealed and laughed and kicked the air uselessly.

“You seem to forget that those three aren’t the only teammates you had,” Kageyama grumbled good-naturedly into his ear as he tickled, reaching down to squeeze a hip, earning him another shriek. “Noya and Tanaka are still around, and so are all the others from last year. And we have these new guys – and you have me. So don’t feel so sad, boke. We’re gonna be just fine.”

“STAHAHAHAHAHAP, STOP, PLEHEHEHEHEASE!!” Hinata cried, tapping his friend’s arm, writhing in his tickly hug of doom. “PLEASE, VOHOHOHOLLEYBALL!”

Kageyama stopped immediately, gently letting his friend back down to the ground and holding onto him to make sure he didn’t fall. He frowned, worried he’d been a little too pushy. “Sorry, are…are you okay? I thought it could help…”

“You tickle too hard,” Hinata replied, glancing up at him with a tiny leftover smile. “And that’s my worst spot, so it just got to be a bit…much. Especially if you’re trying to cheer me up.”

Kageyama blinked. “Are you seriously trying to tell me how to tickle you to make you feel better?”

Hinata grinned. “I mean, as long as you’re trying to, you might as well do it right.”

“Oh, you little…” The setter pulled him back in again, slipping under his hoodie to scribble against his belly directly. “There, is that better?”

“Ehehehehehehehe! Yeheheheheheheah, thehehehere you go!” Hinata squealed, gripping his friend’s arms all over again despite his praising words.

Suddenly inspired, Kageyama grabbed his wrists and pulled them above his head with ease, using his free hand to keep tickling his tummy, and finally he got the noise he was looking for – the particular shriek Hinata let out when he was surprised but in a good way. When he was having fun.

“Boke,” he muttered with a smile, keeping it up. “Let’s try this again. Are you still feeling sad about Daichi and the others?”

Hinata squirmed in his hold but giggled freely, daring to glance up at him and sputter, “Of cohohohohohourse I ahahahahaham!”

“Hmm, not enough, then? All right. I can do this all day.”

For a couple of minutes, they stayed that way at the top of the hill – Hinata caught in Kageyama’s grasp and giggling hysterically at the soft, light tickles his friend was purposely trying to inflict, the setter smirking and holding him tight, determined to bring him back into a good headspace before letting him go.

“We’re going to be fine, Hinata,” he said after a short while, keeping his tone soft and genuine – a rare occurrence for the taller boy. “You’ve still got Kinnoshita and Noya and Tanaka and Yamaguchi and…and Tsukishima.”

“And yohohohohohou, rihihihihihight?”

Kageyama smiled despite himself. “Obviously. You’re not getting rid of me that easily. I still have to take you down out there, you know.” He paused, then slowed his tickling to a gradual stop and murmured, “I’m here for you, boke. If you need me. Just like you’re always there for me.”

Hinata caught his breath as he let out a few more snickers, turning to look up at his friend as Kageyama released his grip on his arms. “You know, you’re not too bad at this cheering up thing when you put your mind to it, Bakageyama.”

The setter couldn’t help but smile. The use of the insult/nickname was a clear indicator the redhead was feeling like himself again, and Kageyama was more than happy to count that as a win.

“Shut up. Just trying to make you see reason. We’re going to be fine. We’re going to have another great season and take everyone down.”

Hinata beamed. “And this year we don’t have to face stupid Oikawa!”

His friend was right – and it was a detail Kageyama hadn’t considered until just now. He couldn’t help but grin. “You’re right. We don’t.”

“Ooh, that made you all kinds of happy! Glad to see you cheering up, too.”

“‘Too’? I’m not the one who was being all pouty about the others graduating last year.”

“I wasn’t pouting!”

“You absolutely were.”

Hinata huffed. “You were just going on about how you missed Suga—”

“You brought it up, genius!”

“Oh, now who needs cheering up?” Hinata’s grin morphed into something more sinister, and he brought his fingers up to wiggle teasingly at Kageyama.

The setter hated how fast he blushed at the sight of them.

“Someone’s excited~”

“Shut up – I don’t need cheering up, boke! I’ve been better off than you this whole time!”

Hinata laughed. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to talk me out of tickling you back? You’re always in the mood for tickles, Kage~”

“I am not…!” Deciding it was a lost cause, Kageyama took a step back, and when Hinata made to lunge for him, he dodged out of the way and began sprinting up the second half of the hill, hoping for enough of a head-start to at least tire him out a little.

But he’d forgotten one important detail.

Not only did Hinata have speed on his side…

Today, he had a bike.

Just when Kageyama had gotten to the top of the hill entirely, Hinata chimed his bike’s warning bell. The setter whirled around in time to see the redhead abandon his ride and sprint toward him, and there was absolutely no getting away from him at that point.

“Wait, wait, wait – wahahahahahahait!” Kageyama shrieked, his laugh coming out both panicked and genuine as his best friend latched onto him and dug into his tummy right off the bat, making him squeal and crumple to the ground in a heap, cackling and squirming. “Hinatahahahahahaha!”

“Well, would you look at that? Grumpy Kageyama does want some cheer-up tickles after all!”

“I dohohohohohon’t nehehehehehehed them!” Kageyama cried, shrieking again when the redhead pushed him to the ground entirely and hopped onto his waist to keep him pinned.

“Maybe not,” Hinata conceded with a playful grin, “but I think you want them, Bakageyama.”