#he's pulled this move so many times he fully expects the car to stop | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

minispidey · 8 months

Text

02: Barbie and the Giftshopist.

Steven Grant x f!bimbo!reader. previous part. series masterlist. next part.

02. He's just Steven (and Marc, and Jake)

a/n: i'm not like fully knowledgeable of DID but i did some research! if u guys can give me some tips/ point out my mistakes, i'd be happy to hear it and edit. i just really do need some help 🙏🏻 i've never written a system before and i'd love to hear some advice

(series tags are open!) tags: @3zae-zae3

"Morning, Stevie!" you started calling him Stevie not even a week after you moved in. Sure, he hates it when Donna calls him that, but god did it sound so beautiful when you say it.

You two walk out at the same time everyday, bothered by some of the sellers on the street blocking the door "Excuse us." you say as they made way for you and Steven. A vintage pink corvette was your way of transportation while Steven chooses the bus, but you weren't in a rush today "Stevie! I'll give you a ride. Get in."

Steven blushed, shaking his head "No no, it's fine, love." hearing him call you love made you accidentally kick your leg up. You stared confused at your leg before turning your head towards Steven again "Come on." you pouted.

"I'm serious— oh, bollocks." he drops his keys by accident "I'm alright."

You drove by his side slowly "Stevieee get in. I'm not letting you take the bus when I have a car."

"It's just-"

"Is it because it's pink?"

"No! No, not at all. I don't want to be a bother, that's all." he sighed.

"Steven. Get in." you pull down your sunglasses "I'm not taking a no for an answer."

"Yes, ma'am." seeing you so serious had him flustered. Maybe it's a weird kink he developed after knowing you were a lawyer.

He sat in the passenger's seat and buckled his seatbelt. You smiled at him before fixing your sunglasses "Okay! First stop, the museum."

Steven knew everyone's going to stare at your pink car. He just never expected so many people turning their heads towards you too. You were beautiful and radiated beauty and sunshine, you were an attention grabber.

He just imagines you in all pink in your firm, in a room filled with blue and black suits. He thought it was cute.

"Do you have like, a license? You can take my car on my days off."

"You don't have to." Steven shook his head "Really, you're too kind."

"It's alright! Whatever makes your life easier." you flashed him one of your bright smiles "I can drop you off every day if you wanna. I'm not as busy anyways."

"Take the offer, Steven. Beats having to cramp in every day." Marc says from the reflection of the right side mirror. Steven shook his head before turning towards you "It's fine, love."

"Come on. Rent's hell. Let me save you some commute money, okay? I may be fashionable, but I can be such a cheapskate-" the car comes to a sudden halt as you snap your head towards a shop window. Steven was pushed forward but thankfully held by the seatbelt "What's wrong?" he breathed out.

"What time do you have to go to work?"

"Before ten. Why?"

"It's eight. Do you mind making a short stop with me?"

Shop assistants surrounded you as you worked your magic "Ooh, and this one. Do you have it in pink?" you giggled as you slipped on another heel "Okay so like, the trick is to ignore the assistants." you whisper to Steven "They'll sell you anything in full price. Head straight to the expensive ones before slowly going to the ones on sale."

Steven nodded as he listened to the advice you gave. He felt a bit nervous as you spoke to the shop assistants, you seemed so confident as well. In contrast, Steven felt fairly awkward and he was just observing how you interacted with the people around you.

He was very intrigued by the way you were trying on shoes, the way you were talking about it with the shop staff— he couldn't explain what exactly it was that he found attractive about you, and it was slightly annoying him.

"Chica está loca..." Steven looks at the full-length mirror, Jake was staring right back at him. He raises an eyebrow at Jake "She's crazy. I've never met a girl who wears so much... pink."

Steven was about to talk back when you pull him to the counter, swiping your card and taking your shopping bags "Okay, so like, I got fourty percent off. I have a loyalty voucher." you two made your way back to your car, stuffing your bags in the back "Thanks for coming with me, Stevie. Well, you didn't have a choice anyways."

"It's alright, really. It was... fun." he smiled at you, getting inside the car "Never really shopped with anyone before."

"Really? Not even with friends?"

"Don't have any."

"Aw, how come? You're so fun to be with."

Steven's heart skipped a beat. He stared at you with bright eyes as you drove. He felt his face heat up. When he turns his head to face the side mirror, he finds Marc judging him.

"You've just met her, huh?"

"Shut it..." Steven mumbled under his breath, looking away from the mirror. He watched you, still smiling as you drove. It was like you weren't real, like you were too good to be true. If he had known years ago a woman like you existed, he would've searched for you everywhere. But you landed right outside his flat.

"I don't think I can pick you up after your work, training interns and all." you stopped near the steps "I'll see you later, Stevie."

"You don't have to, it's really okay." he blushed "I'll see you around, love." he got out of your car, looking back at you as he walked up the steps. You pushed your sunglasses down and waved back before driving away.

After an exhausting day, you drove back at 1 am. You shoved your files in the back seat with your shopping bags and rested your face, your signature smile falling from fatigue.

The streets of London were quiet, only the crickets' mating call filling the cold air. You rub your eyes, some of your mascara rubbing off "So tired..." you sighed as you turned the car to the right.

Though your sleepiness immediately went away when you spot a ridiculous ugly-patterned shirt. It was Steven walking back.

"This late?" you whispered to yourself. You sped up a bit to catch up with him "Stevie!" your cheery voice halted the quiet night.

His head turned towards you, a scowl displayed on his face. Though his eyebrows softened upon realizing it was you.

"Don't they have buses out late? You poor thing. Get in." you smiled as you unlocked your car, allowing him to enter.

"I should've totally given you my number. If I only knew you'd be out late like me I would've picked you up." you let out a yawn before continuing "I'm not that busy, I swear. Like, I'm a lawyer but I know how to manage my time."

As you went on and on, Steven just sat there and listened to you.

You parked your car and stepped out, trying to get all your shopping bags in one go. But Steven stepped in and helped "Aw, Stevie, thanks so much!" Steven looked exhausted too.

You talked more in the elevator, detailing how frustrating your day was at your firm before walking to your doors.

"-and he was like no and I was like totes! And he was like noooo and I was like, definitely!" you giggled "Whoever said orange is the new pink is totally disturbed."

You unlocked your door and let Steven in to set your bags down. He went to step out afterwards when you pulled on his sleeve "Thanks so much again, Stevie. You are like, too good to me. We should totally shop again some other time! Goodnight!" you placed a kiss on his cheek before closing your door.

He froze in place, staring at your door before unlocking his own door and getting in. He breathed in the cold air before walking to his fish tank, feeding the two fishes before his vision focused, looking at his reflection on the glass.

"Marc! What was that?!"

Marc looked back at Steven "It's nothing."

"Back off. I really like her, okay? There. I said it."

"You kissed my wife and your crush kissed me on the cheek."

"I said I was sorry."

Jake spoke up, appearing from a small mirror "You like her? Dios mío, that woman wears a lot of pink. What is it about her? Is it because of the car? I have a limousine."

"No! She's- she's really nice."

"Be more specific, amigo. Nice isn't how you like someone."

"Enough." Marc shakes his head "Steven, if you like her then go ahead. But just don't get attached."

"What do you mean?"

"I have Layla— we have Layla. I'm married to her. You can have a crush on your little neighbor, sure, but it's not like you can date her."

"Marc... come on, I have my own life... we have our own lives. What if I decide I want to date her? What if I really really like her, you know?"

"I don't know." he sighed, scratching his eyebrow "It's gonna be complicated, you know that."

Steven let out a sigh, looking down "I-I know... but I just... I just really like her."

Jake on the other hand was deep in this own thoughts. Marc heads to bed when Jake fronts, taking over the body. He cracks his neck before walking out and knocking on your door.

You were just about to take off your makeup when you head his knock. Your fluffy pink slippers squeaked as you made your way to the door, opening it "Stevie? Did you miss me already?" you giggled.

"Do you want to go out with me?" Jake put on his best performance, speaking in a kind of shy British accent.

"Out? Like, a date?" you blinked twice.

"Yes."

Jake understood now. He saw the way your eyes sparkled and your blinding smile "Oh my gosh, yes!" you squealed before covering your mouth, looking side to side across the halls, worried you might've woken up your neighbors "Yes. Let's go out. Uh, maybe lunch? I'm free."

"That's alright with me." he nodded.

"Alright." you couldn't help but smile like a fool "Goodnight, Stevie."

"Goodnight..."

After closing your door, you silently screamed, jumping up and down in excitement. Your exhaustion suddenly disappears as you start planning out your outfit for the morning.

#moon knight #steven grant #jake lockley #marc spector #moon knight system #steven grant x reader #x reader #x you #x bimbo reader #bimbo!reader

657 notes · View notes

novamariestark · 8 months

Text

Ride it, my pony

Summary: Your fantasy to ride a cowboy comes true.

Warnings: SMUT Swearing, PIV, car sex, age gap, oral (m & f), protected sex, rough sex (mentioned not detailed), some dirty talk, interrupted masturbation.

Pairing: Tallahassee x f!reader

Word Count: 2667

You hadn’t meant for this to happen, neither did Tallahassee. Not that you didn’t think about it. You did. You met Tallahassee 3 weeks after the apocalypse started. You had travelled down to Austin, Texas to find your brother. When you get cornered and dropped your map, you get lost. You carry on driving until you run out of gas. You came to a stop at a junction, you got out your car, gun in hand to check the other cars. Suddenly, a car pulled up. The sound of the motor broke the heavy silence of the dead day. You tensed, your heart racing. You had faced many zombies, but you were yet to encounter a human. As the bright sun blinded you, you could make out a figure stepping out of the car. He was wearing a cowboy hat.

Immediately, your nerves heightened, and you raised her gun towards the man. He mirrored her action and raised his own gun towards you. You were filled with panic and confusion. Who was this man? What did he want?

The man spoke, his voice gruff. “Put down your gun.”

You hesitated, your finger twitching on the trigger. After a few moments, you did as the man said and slowly lowered your weapon. He tilted his head towards his car, silently telling you to get in. If your mom could see you now. Getting into a car with a stranger.

When you reached the car, you set down your bag and extended your hand to the man, introducing yourself as Phoenix. “I’m Tallahassee,” he said gruffly, shaking your hand.

That’s how you two met. How you went from ‘friendly strangers’ to ‘apocalypse fuckbuddies’ came two weeks after. You two were in a store, Tallahassee, of course, went to the sweet section, hunting for Twinkies whilst you went to the health section for some products, you were still a woman after all. The apocalypse unfortunately didn’t take away the monthly visit from the red devil. As you were grabbing the essentials, your eyes were drawn to something else.

‘Really? Now?’ you asked yourself, shaking your head. Not that you hadn’t thought about it. Tallahassee was an incredibly attractive man, and you always had a soft spot for bad boys and cowboys.

But just as you picked up the box, Tallahassee rounded the corner and when he saw what you were holding, he quirked an eyebrow, “Condoms? You expecting to get lucky?”

You shrugged, unsure of where your surge of confidence came from, but you looked up at him, “It's been a while since I've had sex. Could do with a good fuck,” his eyebrows raised even more. If they went any higher, they’d be hidden by his hat.

“Me?” he asked gesturing to himself, “You want me to fuck you?”

You shrugged again, “Always wanted to ride a cowboy,” she spoke shyly, looking away from him, your confidence quickly depleting. Why did you say something? He’s completely repulsed by the suggestion. But your thoughts were wrong. A smug smirk rested itself on his lips as he looked you up and down.

“All you had to do was ask, sweetheart,” he said, grabbing your arm, and as many boxes as he could before leading you out of the store. In no time, you were back in the car, and you found yourself in his lap.

And so, it happened. You unbuckled his belt and pulled down the zipper. You reached between you and took his half-hardened length in your hand, stroking him until he was ready for you. Tallahassee couldn’t wait any longer. He gripped your ass tightly, holding you up as you moved your panties to the side and guided him inside you. You moaned as you sank down, taking him fully in your dripping wet hole. The sounds and curses that fell out of Tallahassee’s mouth only turned you on even more. You arched your back, getting the maximum pleasure from the position you were in. A sharp pain shot up one of your cheeks and you shrieked in both pleasure and surprise.

"Oh my God!" You cried out, sweat dripping off your forehead as Tallahassee drove deeper and deeper. You slammed yourself down harder, meeting his thrusts, using Tallahassee's cock to pleasure yourself.

Each thrust sent shockwaves through your body. You watched him, meeting his gaze as the intensity of the pleasure threatened to overwhelm you. Tallahassee felt you clench around him, and he knew you was close. He leant forward, whispering in your ear, “let go for me, baby…”

His fingers dug into your hips as he felt his own orgasm approach, the feeling of your muscles contracting around him pushing him over the edge. Finally, with one last thrust, you screamed his name while he released himself into you, leaving you shaking and breathless.

You climbed off him, throwing yourself back into the passenger seat, feeling the soreness that would most definitely still be there tomorrow. She had gotten what she wanted. She glanced at Tallahassee and smiled.

“Thanks,” she said quietly, blushing as she looked away.

“Don’t thank me yet. That was me going easy on you,” Tallahassee told her, his voice firm yet gentle.

“Y-you want to do it again?” you stuttered, your voice barely a whisper. You were still surprised you were able to get him to fuck you this time.

“Don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he said, starting the car. You smiled to yourself; it seemed Tallahassee had a softer side after all.

He wasn’t joking when he said he was going easy on you. Over the next couple of weeks, he proved that every chance he got. No man had ever made you feel as good as Tallahassee did, especially not with just his fingers. His mouth was even better. He told you that you tasted almost as good as a box of Twinkies.

He loved exploring every inch of your body with his tongue, tasting, and teasing you as if you were a delicacy. Despite what you told yourself at the beginning, not to get attached, you had. You had fallen for Tallahassee but there was no way you were ever gonna let him know. You knew he didn’t want to form attachments in case something happened the next day. It could. You couldn’t see into the future. You could be a zombie tomorrow for all you knew. So, you kept your feelings to yourself and just enjoyed being close to him. Enjoying the endless pleasure he gave you. Well until you stumbled upon something unexpected.

Your brother.

Your curly haired, nerdy twin brother was now in the car with you, and you were in the backseat. You love your brother of course but you couldn’t help the frustration you felt when you realised that the chances of feeling Tallahassee’s hands on you again were looking very slim. The chance only shrunk when two girls joined you.

After saving the two idiotic girls from Pacific Playland and your brother finally losing his kissing virginity, you all went back to Bill Murray’s house for the night.

You headed up to a room, not really paying attention to which room you were in, you were just too annoyed and frustrated to care. You peeled off your jacket and chucked off your shoes before climbing onto the bed. If you couldn’t have Tallahassee’s hands, you could still have your own. You unbuckled your jeans and slid your hand underneath them. Of course, as you placed gentle strokes over your clit, you imagined Tallahassee’s big, strong hands. You nearly screamed as the door opened and there he was, tall, dark and handsome—Tallahassee. You froze in place, too embarrassed to move, as you realised you had been caught mid-pleasure.

His eyes lingered on your body for a moment before he asked, "Were you just masturbating?"

"U-uh..no, I was just...." you hesitated, unable to meet his gaze.

With a smirk, he approached you, running his hands over your thighs, just as you had been imagining them, "Want some help?" you nodded, probably too quickly but you were too horny to care.

Tallahassee tugged his shirt off and climbed onto the bed next to you. His kisses were hard and passionate as if he had stored it all up just for you. His hands gripped your jeans, yanking them off with ease. Breaking the kiss, you pulled your shirt over your head, revealing your tight, toned body.

“What the fuck!” screeched a voice from the door. You recognised the voice and quickly covered yourself up. An array of emotions cascaded through him—shock, anger. Disappointment?

“Don’t you knock!” you shouted at your brother, “I could’ve been changing,” you picked up Tallahassee’s discarded shirt and pulled it over you to cover yourself at least a little.

“Could’ve but no you’re here, fucking a guy 20 years older than you,” Columbus yelled, with absolute fury averting out of his eyes.

“So?” you asked, so what if Tallahassee was older. It's not like you had many options in Zombieland. Even if you did have other options, the only man you wanted was Tallahassee. You loved him.

After you and Columbus stopped yelling at each other, Tallahassee took a deep breath, and stepped up beside you, gently grabbing your hand in his, “I’m sorry you had to find out this way, man. But you should know, I love your sister,”

His revelation shocked both you and your brother. The man you loved, loved you back, tears threatened to fall as you looked at him, "You love me?" You asked in a voice barely above a whisper, afraid that if you said it too loud, you'd wake up from the dream.

When he nodded in response, surprise and joy flooded you. While his words had been perfect, what meant most to you was said in his eyes. You could see his love for you in them.

Releasing his hand, you wrapped your arms around him and felt his heartbeat against you cheek as your head rested on his chest, you said the words you had been too scared to say for so long…

“I love you too.” You told him before you placed a gentle kiss on his lips but you put all your love into that kiss. You pulled away and looked over to your brother, “You got 5 seconds, Col,”

“Okay, fine but at least keep it down,” he said as he walked out the door.

You walked over to the open door, “No promises,” you said slamming the door, shutting him out. You wasted no time crossing the floor and bringing Tallahassee into a kiss much rougher than the one you had just shared.

You wanted him. With a swift movement, you unbuckled his belt and pushed his jeans down to the floor. He stepped out of them, and you put your hands on his bare chest, pushing him backwards towards the bed.

Tallahassee was surprised when he felt hands around his wrists, pinning him to the bed. You recaptured his lips in another rough kiss. Your hips moved sensually against his, pushing your core firmly against him. Tallahassee felt his breath quickening as you continued to kiss him hungrily. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer. His hands crept up your shirt, his nails softly dug into your back, slowly dragging down.

You broke the kiss, sitting up to take off ‘your’ shirt and chucking it to the floor. Not wanting to be away from him any longer, you lent down a caught his lips again.

He inhaled sharply, but he didn't move. Instead, he waited in anticipation as you slowly trailed your fingers along his waistband. Then, you smirked and boldly palmed the area through his pants.

You let your fingers glide beneath the waistband of his boxers. His body arched as you touched his skin and he let a satisfied sigh escape his lips. His hands tangled in your hair and he lazily lifted his hips as you gripped the elastic to remove his boxers. You pulled them slowly and seductively down his hips, marvelling at the sight of what lied beneath. Every other time you two had sex, it was a rush. Now, in the safe confines of Bill Murray’s Mansion, you took your time to truly appreciate the sight in front of you. His cock sprang straight against his stomach. You smiled slyly at him, your hand now caressing his member. You ran your fingers around the tip before leaning in and licking the pre-cum that covered the slick tip. you ran your tongue along the length of his cock, and he was powerless to stop the moan that rose up from within him. He attempted to remain composed, though it was much easier said than done. Every few seconds, a moan or gasp would escape his lips as your mouth moved up and down the length of him.

He moaned and ran his fingers through your hair as your mouth explored that most sensitive region of his body. You were unyielding in your pursuit, your lips and tongue dancing around his length. He felt his body tremble as you gently licked and sucked his shaft. His hands moved from your hair to your wrists, you whined as he fell from your mouth, “Your turn, Babygirl,”

“What?” you asked.

You felt an excitement and anticipation course through your body as he uttered the words, “Don’t be shy now, sit on my face.”

You quickly got off the bed to remove your underwear. You proceeded to slowly lower your panties, bending over in the process. Tallahassee watched, captivated, as they slipped down your legs.

“Don’t keep a man waiting, Darlin’,” he said grabbing your waist and bringing you towards him, his whiskey covered breath fanning your face, “I’m starving’,”

You giggled and moved to straddle his face as he lay back on the bed. Your hands lay flat on the wall above his head. You let out a small gasp of pleasure as you felt the first stroke of his tongue. Tallahassee moved expertly, alternating between slower, languid licks to harsher motions that sent your head spinning.

You shivered as he flicked his tongue across your pleasure button, an almost electric shock rippling through your body. You moans growing louder as the sensation increased, your hips starting to buck and writhe against him in order to maximize the friction.

It felt like your whole body was one giant nerve as his skilful tongue continued to tease you. Your breathing grew heavier, your eyes fluttering shut as you relished in the sensations coursing through your body. Until finally, with one last moan and cry of his name, you felt your muscles tense and your orgasm wash over you.

You lay down beside him, your breathing still heavy. Before you knew it, you were being pulled against his chest. He pressed a loving kiss to your forehead as you listened to his heartbeat. You closed your eyes, feeling safe and at home in his arms. You didn’t want this moment to end.

“Are you guys done… cuddling!?” You hear your brother’s voice echo through the mansion, “We got food,”

“That little spit-fuck is getting me back for the other day,” Tallahassee groaned throwing his head on the pillow. You giggled and kissed his chest.

“C’mon let’s go,” you smiled sitting up. He followed, pressing one more kiss to your forehead before you joined the others.

Your brother looked at both of you, barely able to control his laughter. “So you two are still a thing?” You gave him a warning look as Tallahassee grabbed your hand, leading you to the dining room. Once there, you watched as he laughed and joined in on the conversation. You kept quiet, content to simply sit in his lap and cuddle. You may have been in the same mansion as them, but you were worlds away, safe in the arms of the man you loved.

#reader insert #female reader #zombieland #zombieland fanfiction #tallahassee x reader

173 notes · View notes

ikkosu · 16 days

Note

Last one for you captain before I go off to bed 🫡.

Imagine you get pulled over, fully expecting it to be a normal traffic stop, nope, it’s prowl; he uses his holoform to arrest you blah blah blah. You’ve been kidnapped by him, and you’re in a secluded location and his holoforms materialized in the back of the car with you toying with your pants telling you how much he loves you and how long he’s been watching you.

💥🔥🔥🔥🔥HOW DO YOU KNOW IVE BEEN THINKING ABOUT THIS EXACT SAME SCENARIO COMPO💥🔥💥

But oh my gosh his holoform,,,HOT BUFF COP. he wouldn't be as buff as fortmax, but he's defn not as twinky as Roddy either. He's, like, the the in-between of the both of them with decent amount of muscles dear god (let me nuzzle your belly sir) 🛐🛐 I've headcanon my prowl Holo as sekingar because GYATT sir

ANYWHOO

prowl in his cop uniform 🛐 black sunglasses, and rolled up sleeved while you're on his lap, back against his chest.

While he's toying your pants , palming and kneading the sensitive spots that makes you whimper, he's breathing heavily, the crook of his nose is a soft nestle against the nape of your neck. And his lips suckle on the flesh, rolling it between his teeth as he murmers how good you smell.

And he talks about how you should use stop using the last bodywash you had on last week, keep using the recent one because its better.

The one that smelled like lavender. And, when you're silent with the dreadful prospect of how the fuck does he know that

Prowl just chuckles, "I know everything. Everything about you, you don't even know."

And soon, everything clicks together.

The missing undergarments. Your missing shirt. The strange cop car parking at the most unethical places you coincidentally always come across.

Worse, you remember meeting him once. And, you remember brushing off his darkly lit eyes and locked jaw when you're talking about a friend or anyone else in particular.

"Primus you're perfect. I want every inch of of that body."

His love bomb rant is occasionally interrupted by a groan as you squirm on his lap. The iron grip across your waist makes your ass rub against his very much hardened crotch when you move.

And Prowl feels it. His neck muscles strain when he grunts. Even if it's a holographic extension of his body, he feels it fervently and bucks his hips up for friction and you whimper.

Now, he's ranting in your ear. About his sleepless nights when his hands would glide up the slick shaft of his spike. About how your lips would feel so good against his member, throat gagging, milking down his transfluid.

"You don't know how many times I've hold back from breaking down that fucking window of yours, pipsqeak."

You live on the 13th floor.

And the only window across your bedroom balcony, is an abandoned building:'s. You suddenly remember the daunting feeling of spotting a shadow looming in that gaping hole. Blue flaring lights, dimming and skimming.

"Don't think you can hide from me."

#yandere prowl on the loose!!!#mootsies #OH GOD I MIGHT WRITE A FULL FIC OF THIS🛐#I WANT HIM SO BAD #transformers #maccadam #transformers x reader #transformers idw #idw prowl #prowl x reader #ikkoasks

46 notes · View notes

tiny-sassy-aggressive · 3 months

Text

I am living blogging my reaction to the second watch through of WDAPTEO 4 bc the first run through was so much

00:00- I screamed when I saw the notif. I was alone in the car. Just pulled up to my apt looked at my phone and screamed “ no way “ I still can’t believe we got it

00:01- hi, they are SO BEAUTIFUL I’m squealing. I cannot stop staring it’s embarassing

00:27 what’s going on here? “Nothing” my heart. The smiles

00:50 oh I am LOVING the feature wall. And fish tank reveal project??

01:00 how dare they throw THAT japhan photo up there like it’s just some example. Who the hell do they think they are- also I want that doomed hoodie :( he is snug as a bug in a rug

01:50 terror not even 2 minute in and crack

02:03 I’m sorry Dan asking Phil about TikTok stuff is precious

02:13(What is cba)

02:39 I CACKLED. Phil’s sarcastic ass omg

02:44 dans little pat

02:58 phivorce

03:05 I know the ft, they are friends of course. But seeing the messages really warms my heart. Like it’s so normal why am I emotional

03:52 of course Phil sends millions of memes

04:10 how in the fuck did Phil catch his phone what??? Ft dans face during the whole interaction.

Ad time —— 04:25. Im sorry Dan looks fucking amazing, his hair is so curled and pretty? And he looks so comfy cozy and soft??? My Dannie side is really coming out rn

04:59 handsome devil, damn straight. Love this man he’s too precious for this world

05:23 🍑

05:55 are the Brits okay??? Bone daddies?? I’m too American for this

06:30 perfectly encapsulated Dan and Phil energy

06:35 Dan saying dude scratches a weird itch in my brain

06:55 again! Totally normal to call a friend in a taxi. But this moment makes them so real in my mind like yes. Call that friend. In that taxi. Make it less awkward. Why did I like this moment so much

07:05 A PRETEND CONVO OF COURSE HE WOULD. He’s so real for that

07:34 “these are very dan and Phil”

07:42 I’m in pain. Koala content and ouch I can’t even put into words

08:44 three days without a text sounds exaggerated. Or lie. Like cmon. All those messages and convos and yall went 3 days without a word?? Sounds fake

08:58 asking what he should do for his nails!!? Again totally normal but UGH I love their friendship

09:01 also Phil coming in with a STELLAR idea, hope to see it happen

09:11 Phil’s a little shit OMG he hated the nails Dan got.

09:38: dans precious little selfies

09:44 also who tf is that that does not look like Dan

09:52 wtf do you mean that they had the same weird Swedish bakery???? 10 years apart???? WHAT THE HELL??????

10:35 fuckin nerds ft cute ft selfie

10:52 Dan in Phil’s glasses hi what the fuck? Precious. Phil loves to take photos of Dan sleeping.

11:02 jump. Scare.

11:28 PHIL CALLED HIS MOM. NURSE LESTER.

12:11 Dan stalking the ring doorbell is not something I expected?

12:20 glad to know Phil and I share that we can’t hear someone saw our name bc it’s too intimate

13:16 ordering a roast dinner is so cute idk why

13:35 jump. Scare.

14:26 I hate them :( i so long for what they have

15:04 they didn’t see death note the musical!! Haters!!!!

15:20 HOT

16:00 Phil papping Dan>>>>>>

16:20 I rewatched this part so many times. Thsi entire sequence. This whole. Dare i say SCENE. Disgustingly familiar. Disgustingly cute. I- karaoke game???? What??? It was for them

17:06 omatone :(

18:22 hot? Worrying? Hmm???

18:45 Phil is so dramatic I love him

19:01 genre to dinner? I don’t get them

19:10 DAAAAAN AHHHHH

19:20 SCRIPTS AH???????3@2/9/@/9@22929 more writer Dan

20:17 this is so familiar

20:50 this has “would you still love me if I was a worm” energy? Can’t explain

22:53 “we dan and phil-ed it” we have to steal that! Asap’

23:24 when Dan sits up he is soooo much taller than Phil but he constantly slumps down and looks up to Phil. It’s very cute to watch.

24:30 oh they are fully embracing the joint channel and slowly moving away from gaming and honestly. I’m alright with it. They look so happy

Guys this was too much. So I just started reading fanfic and these conversations were right out of what I’ve been reading which is very odd tbh? But we were fed. This was amazing content and I can’t wait to see what the writers do with this. Cheers

#amazingphil #dan and phil #daniel howell #phil lester #dnp #philip lester #dan howell #danisnotonfire #dan and phil renaissance #Daniel and Philip #Daniel Howell and Philip Lester #Wdapteo 2023

50 notes · View notes

literally-noone83 · 12 days

Text

Breathe Easy

Draken x Fem!reader

Synopsis: Draken comes by your place at night only to find out you've been stuck in a household full of screaming and yelling.

A/n: Another short oneeee. Writing juice on low. But I hope you like this comfort fic. Also of you have any requests or ideas for fics please send them in, I'd happy to look at it. Might spark a new writing piece or if I like it enough, I'll write what you suggest :)) Ok enjoy! ALSO, can't reply to comments yet. But to the love given for my Loki fic THANK YOUUUU.

He saunters down dampened roads and over the faint, flickering spots of light from streetlights that buzzed softly. Slanted and with the lingering smell of rust and rain, it marked the neglect of these metropolitan roads. He breezes through the long alleyways and the small spaces between brick walls where every ounce of light is evaporated under the high moon. Only the rare silouhette passes by in his distance or the echoe of reving cars.

His hands rest comfortably in his pockets as he wandered through the blocks of apartments, and dingey homes sat on the outskirts of the city. He knew them like the back of his hand. Needn't stop once or look over his shoulder. He can hear the crisp air whistle in his ear and every mile away car. Even if he was to be attacked it wasn't an issue to Toman's vice-leader.

His nerves rest easy. All that's on his mind is getting to where he needed to be.

Nearing the apartment complexes that sit almost side by side, he made his way over to one of the windows just above the ground. Lined on the floor, there were the partial basement housings. His eyes glided over the dirtied cement, the way the barred widows glisten with droplets that run down its faces. Many of them had its curtains drawn. It was midnight after all. Everyone should be asleep but amidst the lot, his eyes flickered with familiarity at the one that was never fully drawn at this hour. A warm glow from a lamp he knew kissed the edges of the lower window as he drew near.

Naturally the end of his lip curve up softly at the sight. He stops at the foot of it before crouching down, beside your window into your room. He tilts his head to see you at your desk beside that small lamp as expected. However... his eyes peered over your slouched figure upon not textbooks upon textbooks but rather a comic. Strange, he thought.

Casually, he leans forward and knocks on your window. He watched your head snap towards him in somewhat of a shock. He noticed the way your eyes don't light up or the way you don't instantly smile. Instead, you're quick to move over to him and pull the window open before sitting back down.

"I thought you had patrol." You go back to the comic you left open. His smile has long disappeared.

"Finished... thought you'd be studying." He hums lowly. On cue a loud thud ricochet off the wall followed by barking voice of anger that overlapped one another.

Furrowed brows etch his complexion with worry as his eyes instantly dart over to your unflinching self. You continued to stare at your comic. With the way your eyes were distilled upon the animated drawings, he wondered how long you've been re-reading that same page.

"Couldn't think..." You finally murmur.

He let's out a silent sigh. "Should I-"

"They're fine... just angry as usual. And stupid."

His eyes danced over your expression carefully, but it doesn't move.

"Have they been at it all day?"

There's a momentary hesitation in your eyes and he watches shame wash over you like it's your fault. You hum softly not once looking at him.

Draken has seen that face before. Distant and quietly fuming, so unlike the unceasing smiles, bubbling and maniacle laughter, and that endless sarcasm that makes your eyes glimmer. At times, Draken truly wondered how two emotionally unstable and temperamental people could produce someone like you and let their shitty relationship weigh on their child this much.

Over the years knowing you, Draken never saw anything affect your mood as your parents' big blowout fights did. Draken never had parents, and despite growing up under the roof of a brothel that had its own varying imperfections, he could only imagine how hefty it was to be an only child isolated between walls that shook with the yells and screaming of parents love that's meant to warm them.

An unadulterated scream echoes, like a child throwing a tantrum before more barking follows; empty threats of money loss, divorce, cheating and who knows what more. The dull look in your eyes that stares blankly, he could see the hurt you never like showing. But he can see it.

His jaw ticks. He hated you being there alone. He quickly looks around, down both the empty wet streets.

"Hey." He said suddenly.

"You should go." You still don't look at him.

"Hey."

"They'll stop soon."

"I said hey."

"What?" You snap your head towards him, a hint of irritation.

Your gaze met his through the bars where he crouches. He taps on the metal.

"Let's go." It's not a question. It's a soft demand.

The crease between your brows smooths at the mere of idea of escaping. Your lips part, eyes unsure.

"I- draken I can't."

"You can. Come with me." He says again. "C'mon you've done it before."

You sigh at his persistence. "It's midnight."

"And this is a fucking shit hole." He deadpan. "Let's get out of here."

He coxed a brow at you in challenge as you looked at him sternly. Immediately his gaze softens into something assuring and pleading. "Cmon, Y/n... let them have it out. You don't have to listen to their shit."

You take a deep breath before shutting your comic and reaching into your draw for a key. You climb up and unlock the window gate. Draken stands back, swinging the gate open and reaching down to help you up through the window.

"God, they're gonna kill me." You grunt as you find your footing. Draken takes the key and shuts up your window and locks the gate.

"No they won't." He says it so self-assured. Not because he's sure you won't get caught sneaking out but because he'd never let anyone harm you, not even your damned parents.

"You're right, they'd come after you." You poke at him, a smile threatening your lips.

His ears perk up at the tingue of your familiar words. He straightens, looking down at you with a smirk.

"Good. Can't wait to actually meet them." His voice is unsuspecting, but his comment is playful. His dry sarcasm makes you roll your eyes and shake your head to hide the humoured grin that breaks out on your lips. You couldn't help yourself. If anything, everything in you chanted you shouldn't be smiling. Shouldn't even remotely feel like smiling after such a shitty day contained in a cage of torment. But with Draken, you let slip a rather quiet and sarcastic comment, and all of a sudden the end of your lips twitch, and you felt like laughing.

A satisfied smile blooms on his lips as he catches your small smile. There it was. That Sass. That impeccable humour that cracks at the smallest of things. That smile.

There's my girl, he thought.

He takes your hand, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"Let's have fun, yea?"

You sober up and a genuine smile takes its place on your lips. Even in darkness, he could see the stars dance in your eyes. You held a softening gaze, and your shoulds deflated as if all stresses were slowly leaving you willingly and happily. With an expression that said through unspoken words he didn't need you to ever say aloud, 'I'm glad you're here.' That 'I feel safe with you.'

"To the park?" You asked, a twinge of childish hope in your voice.

That knowing look in his eyes said yes, and that was all you needed before you were tugging him forward then letting go in a spontaneous race to get there first.

At home you felt like you couldn't breathe. Those walls felt so close together. Outside knowing Draken was a few spaces behind or beside you, you could breathe. Puffing out white smokes of cold air from your lungs after running down the street, giggling and hushing one another in empty pathways and swinging on swings under the streetlight hazy glow.

With you, the dark alleyways and wet tar roads weren't so mundane. Cold rainy nights like that one, sauntering down cramped homes and dingey parks weren't so uninviting. Long nights didn't feel so long, and lonely walks didn't feel so lonely. With you, the moon wasn't the most beautiful sight in the night anymore...

Without having to say it or proclaim it, you both wordlessly save each other from your own endeavours. With one another, you could breathe easy. With one another, you were a little less alone. With one another, you felt safe and, most importantly, alive.

37 notes · View notes

all-the-things-2020 · 3 months

Text

Late Night Talking - Chapter Two

Summary: Emily and Dieter go on their first date.

Rating: PG-13

Tagging @rhoorl because Working Title inspired me to write this

I spent most of that Friday getting ready. A mani-pedi and eyebrow wax at the salon, a mini makeover at Ulta, and a blowout and style at my hairdresser. I’d debated buying a new dress, but decided to spend my money on the beauty treatments instead. I wore my favorite dress, a comfortable but clingy teal blue wrap that showed just enough cleavage.

By the time I was done at the hairdresser, it was almost 3 o’clock and I headed for Pasadena. Traffic on the 210 could be a bitch at any time, but was especially bad on Fridays, so I didn’t want to take any chances. Better to get there early and have to kill some time than to be late. Objectively, I knew that if I got caught in traffic, I could text Dieter (everyone in SoCal understood getting stuck in traffic) but I didn’t want to have to make him wait. So I left ridiculously early and for once traffic was light. I pulled into the parking lot behind Vroman’s at 4:08.

Well, might as well browse the store a bit, I thought, rather than sit in the car. It was summer and too bloody hot to sit in a car without the A/C running. I walked into the bookshop and took a deep breath. The smell of brand new books filled my lungs and helped settle my nerves a little. Just a little, though, because I was on the verge of an anxiety attack every time I realized I was actually going on a date with Dieter Bravo.

I hadn’t told anyone about my plans other than Sam. I was fully aware of the rumors about Dieter’s past, and I knew at least one if my friends would try to warn me off. I was also very aware that he’d done a stint in rehab and had stayed out of the headlines ever since. I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

I wandered the aisles, reacquainting myself with the layout of the store so I could impress Dieter with my knowledge of the place. I’d talked it up so much but it had been a while since I’d had the chance to visit and I didn’t want to look like an idiot. Really, though, I was just nervous and trying to keep myself busy. Finally, at 4:30 I gave up and went into The 1894.

I took a seat at the bar and ordered a glass of wine. Maybe that will settle my nerves, I thought. I asked the bartender if I could save the seat next to me. “I’m meeting someone at five,” I told her. “I got here early.”

She shrugged. “Sure, but I can’t stop anyone from sitting there if we run out of seats.”

I understood, but so far the place was only about half full. Most people hadn’t gotten off work yet. I sat my purse on the empty seat next to me and sipped my wine. Twice people came up to me and asked if the seat was available, and I told them no, someone was sitting there. They moved on without a fuss, but it was a little annoying. When the third person walked up, I was about to roll my eyes and make a smart remark, but before I could turn, a familiar voice said, “No fair starting without me.”

I picked up my purse and he slid onto the seat, leaning his arm on the bar. He was wearing a pale blue short sleeved button down shirt, the top few buttons left undone, and a pair of dark blue slacks. Nothing too fancy, but a definite step up from the t-shirt and jeans from the other day. His hair was mostly tamed, but still a bit messy. It was a good look on him.

“Hi,” he said, with a smile.

“Hi,” I said, smiling back. “I got here super early. Traffic wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I got here faster than I expected, too,” he said. “Guess the freeway gods wanted us to start things early.” He winked and I melted inside. “That dress looks great on you, by the way,” he went on. “The color really brings out your eyes.”

Now I really was blushing, and it wasn’t from the wine. “Thanks,” I said. “You look nice, too.”

He shrugged. “I clean up fairly well.” The bartender came over and asked if she could get him anything. “I’ll have the same,” he said, pointing at my wine glass. “And put it on one check, please.”

I picked up my glass and took a sip. “The feminist in me wants to insist I’m perfectly capable of buying my own drinks,” I said, “but my bank balance is telling her to shut up.”

He laughed and laid his hand on mine. “Tell your inner feminist I respect her very much, but I agree with your bank balance that she needs to mind her own business for a while.” He rubbed his thumb against the back of my hand and I took another sip of wine to allow myself to recover a bit of composure. Fortunately, the bartender brought his wine and he let go to take his glass.

“Cheers,” he said, tipping his glass toward mine.

“Cheers,” I replied, as we clinked our glasses together. He maintained eye contact as he took a drink.

“Nice choice,” he said after he’d swallowed. He pulled a menu closer and waved the bartender over. “Can we get a meat & cheese board, and some olives?” She nodded. “Sorry,” he said. “I got sidetracked this morning and didn’t get lunch before my meeting.”

“No worries,” I said. “Who knows if or when we’ll get around to dinner. I don’t know about you, but I can spend hours in this place.” I nodded toward the bookshop proper.

He smiled. “Great minds think alike,” he said. There was that smile again. I found myself smiling back, sure I looked like a total goofball. He reached out for my hand again and gave it a little squeeze. My insides turned instantly to goo.

“So, um, how was your meeting?” I asked.

His face lit up. “It was really good,” he said. “I’m in talks to do a TV series.” He took a sip of wine. “The producer has a couple of different options for my character, wanted my input on which one I liked best.”

“And let me guess, you can’t say a word.”

He grimaced. “Nope, sorry. They’d feed me to the … what’s that thing that ate Boba Fett in Star Wars, that giant sand worm thing?”

“Oh, yeah, I know what you mean,” I said. I searched my brain for the arcane Star Wars knowledge that I knew lurked in there somewhere. “The sarlaac? Is that it?”

Dieter shrugged. “Sounds about right. Whatever it’s called, they’d feed me to it.” Just then the bartender brought our food, and he popped an olive in his mouth.

“By the way, thanks for not giving me the Look,” he said. He nodded toward his wine glass. “Everybody knows I’ve been to rehab, so I usually get the Look from someone when they see me drinking alcohol.”

“It’s none of my business,” I told him. “You’re an adult and so am I.”

He smiled. “Well, thanks again,” he said quietly. “I’m in a pretty good place right now. I have my rules and they’re working for me. A lot of people judge me too harshly.”

We nibbled on the food, ordered another glass of wine, and chit chatted about work, the weather, and other boring stuff that actually seemed important and enthralling because it gave us each a glimpse into the other’s life.

He offered me the last morsel of cheese on the board, but I declined and he ate it, then drained his glass. “So,” he said, clapping his hands together. “Are we going to buy some books or what?”

I finished my wine and smiled. “Let’s do some damage to my bank account,” I said. He laughed, asked for the check and paid it in cash, leaving a ridiculously large tip that made the bartender break into an appreciative smile. I wasn’t sure if he was normally a large tipper or if he was just trying to impress me, but either way, I was happy for the bartender, who had been running herself ragged as the bar started to fill up with people stopping by for after work drinks.

“Shall we?,” he said as we stood up. He let me walk a half step ahead of him, and I felt his hand at the small of my back, gently guiding me through the maze of tables and customers toward the bookstore.

“Where do we start?,” he asked when we reached the sales floor.

“Anywhere you want,” I said. “Fiction? Nonfiction?”

“Definitely fiction,” he replied. I took his hand and led him toward the fiction shelves, glad I had scouted out the store layout earlier.

We wandered the shelves, pulling out a book here and there.

“Have you read this?”

“Oh, I love this one.”

Our reading tastes were not exactly the same, but we overlapped quite a bit. I pulled a copy of The Eyre Affair off the shelf. “Please tell me you’ve read this,” I said.

He shook his head, taking the book from me to read the back. “No, I haven’t. Wait, what the hell is this?” He laughed. “Dodos?”

“Don’t knock it,” I said. “It’s virtually impossible to describe this book without it sounding like the stupidest thing ever, but trust me, it’s brilliant.”

He raised one eyebrow and gave me a look of disbelief. “Interactive Shakespeare,” I said. “Time travel. An independent Wales. Neanderthals. And Jane Eyre is missing!”

He laughed. “Okay, okay, I’ll take your word for it.” He started to put the book back on this shelf but I snatched it from his hand.

“No, I’m buying this for you,” I said. “You have to read it. Non negotiable.”

“And what if I don’t like it?,” he asked.

“Then I’m afraid I’ll have to kill you,” I teased.

“I knew it,” he said, with an exaggerated groan. “My characters almost always die. It’s this face. People just want to kill it.”

“I like your face,” I said.

He leaned against the shelf. “Really?” He seemed surprised. I just gave him a look and he laughed. “Okay, so if I don’t like the book I die; what happens if I like it?”

“Then you become One of Us and must be initiated,” I said.

His eyebrows shot up. “This initiation … am I gonna like it?” He stepped closer to me.

“Oh, yeah,” I said. “You’ll love it. But you’ve got to read the book first.” I tapped him on the chest with the book. He chuckled and shook his head.

“Okay, but now I get to pick out a book for you,” he said. He took my hand and led me up and down the aisles, making a show of picking out just the right book. All the while, our fingers were entwined and he idly rubbed his thumb against my palm. Finally, he decided on a novel by an obscure Lithuanian author that sounded rather depressing to me, but which he insisted was better than the cover blurb would lead you to believe.

We continued to explore the shop, finding something interesting in every aisle. I picked up a tiny Jane Austen doll, which he insisted on buying for me. He admired a leather key fob with a Steinbeck quote, which I insisted on buying for him. Eventually, we each had a small stack of books and little trinkets picked out for each other.

“Ready for dinner?,” he asked.

“Yeah, we’d better get out of here before I find anything more to buy,” I said. We went to the registers, made our purchases and then traded bags.

“So,” he said when we’d stepped outside. “Any good restaurants around here?”

“I know a nice tapas place in Old Pasadena,” I said. “But we’ll have to drive there. It’s like five or six blocks away.”

He laughed. “Oh, you are such a Californian,” he said. “If you’d lived in New York, you’d know five or six blocks is nothing.” He slipped his arm around my shoulders. “Come on, it’s a nice night, let’s take a walk.”

We walked west on Colorado Blvd. It was still light out but starting to get dusky in the shadows of the tall buildings. I’d always found downtown Pasadena a bit “big city” and overwhelming, which I mentioned to Dieter. He laughed. “I’ll take you to New York City sometime,” he said. “Then we’ll talk about what constitutes a ‘big city’.”

I held my tongue, but the fact that he’d casually assumed we’d have a future together of some sort gave me a thrill. Even if we were just friends in that future, I’d take it, although of course I wanted more.

The walk to the restaurant was leisurely, after Dieter realized I couldn’t walk as quickly as he could (the curse of being a short person walking with a tall person), which was perfectly fine with me. He kept his arm around my shoulders as we navigated the foot traffic that always filled the sidewalks in Pasadena, especially on a Friday night. Only one person stopped us to ask for his autograph, although several others did a double take as we went past them.

We reached the restaurant and fortunately didn’t have to wait too long for a table. Most of the customers were crowded in the bar and lounge area, but we were tucked in a corner at a table.

“Nice place,” Dieter said, looking around appreciatively. As soon as he opened the menu, he grinned. “Ooh, they have oysters!”

I made a face. “What’s that face for?,” he said.

“I’m not a big fan of seafood,” I admitted.

“Well, I’m still getting oysters,” he said, with a wink. Our waiter came over and Dieter ordered a gin martini and a half dozen oysters to start with. I opted for potato empanadas and a mojito. By the time the waiter came back with our drinks and appetizers, we’d decided on a pizza to split for our main course.

“Trade you,” Dieter said, offering me an oyster after he saw how good my empanadas looked.

“Ugh, no,” I said. “Those things are disgusting. I’m very picky about what I put in my mouth.”

He nearly spit out his martini and I felt my face go red as I realized how that sounded. “I just mean, I’m a picky eater,” I protested, but he was already laughing so hard he had to wipe his eyes with his napkin.

“Oh, my God,” he said when he’d managed to catch his breath. “That was priceless. But the offer still stands. Those empanadas look really good.” He made puppy dog eyes at me and I shoved an empanada into his mouth.

“Mmph,” he said. When he’d managed to swallow it, he picked up an oyster and waved it in front of my face. “Come on,” he said. “Just try one. I bet you’ll like it.”

I shook my head.

“If you eat one, I’ll give you a kiss,” he offered.

I pouted at him. “I was hoping I’d already done enough to earn a kiss,” I said

“I meant, I’ll give you a kiss right now,” he clarified. “You’re definitely getting a kiss before the evening’s over.” He did that thing with his jaw that always turned me on.

I closed my eyes. “All right, in that case, I’ll do it, but if I don’t like it I get to spit it out, okay?”

“Deal,” he said. “Open up.” I opened my mouth and he tipped the oyster in. I shuddered a bit at the slimy texture and briny taste. “Just swallow it,” he said. I did and almost gagged, but I managed to get it down. I opened my eyes and he was smiling mischievously at me. He leaned across the table to press a gentle kiss against my lips. He tasted like gin and oysters and empanadas. “Worth it?”

“Definitely,” I replied with a lazy smile. “But I’m never eating one of those things again.”

“Fair enough,” he said. We talked about favorite (and not so favorite) foods while we waited for the pizza to arrive. After it arrived, we talked about movies and hobbies and a million other things. Finally, we’d eaten as much as we could and the waiter dropped off the check. Again, Dieter took care of it, this time with a credit card. I made a feeble attempt to ask what my share was, but he waved me off. “Tell your inner feminist she can pay next time,” he said.

We walked slowly back to the parking lot behind Vroman’s enjoying the cooler air now that the sun had gone completely down. We reached my car first and I dug out my keys, unlocked the doors and put my bag in the back seat. “Well,” I said, not sure exactly what to say.

“Well,” he said back, stepping closer, almost pressing me against the side of the car. He sat his bag on the ground and took my face between his hands. This time, the kiss was still gentle, but lasted longer. It was followed by a flurry of shorter but fiercer kisses that made my toes curl. I slid my arms up around his neck and his hands fell to my waist, pulling me closer.

“Mmm,” he murmured. “I had a wonderful time tonight.”

“Me, too,” I replied. He kissed me again.

“We should probably say good night,” he said. I nodded, and kissed him back.

“Someone’s going to wonder why we’re making out in the parking lot,” he said.

“Yeah, we should probably stop,” I said. We didn’t stop.

Finally, a woman and her kids walked past and she made a snarky remark. Dieter laughed and pressed his forehead against mine. “Okay, I think that killed the mood,” he said. He stepped back. “Text me when you get home, so I know you got there safe,” he said. “I’ll call you tomorrow and we can figure out where to go next time.”

“I will,” I said, fumbling with my car keys, which I’d somehow managed not to drop during all that. I opened the car door and dropped into the drivers’ seat. Dieter leaned in to press one last kiss against my cheek.

“Drive safe,” he said, then picked up his bag and headed for his own car, two rows over from mine. I couldn’t resist watching him walk away, admiring the view.

When he got into his car, I turned away and slid my key in the ignition. I’d need the long drive home to calm myself down.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

NOTES: Vroman’s is a real bookshop in Pasadena. If you ever get the chance to visit, do so! And do it soon: the owner is retiring and the shop (as well as Book Soup) is up for sale. Fingers crossed they find a new owner who wants to carry on the 100+ year tradition of this indie bookshop. The restaurant is loosely based on a little place I had lunch with friends during a conference in Pasadena. The Eyre Affair is a real book and it is AMAZING. The obscure Lithuanian author is completely made up; I figured Dieter would be into something out of the ordinary.

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #dieter bravo x ofc #dieter bravo #dieter bravo fanfiction

22 notes · View notes

hoosurdaddy · 1 year

Text

ᴷⁱⁿᵏᵐᵃˢ ᵈᵃʸ 6: ᴹᵒᵐᵐʸ/ᴰᵃᵈᵈʸ ᵏⁱⁿᵏ.

Pairing: Robin Buckley x Reader. Triggers: 18+, smut, closeted!Robin and bi!Reader, Robin's kinda dark but I think it is more so jealousy, Mommy kink.

You knew Robin wasn't too happy with you right now. You weren't supposed to go to the party. You weren't supposed to wear that slutty dress that Robin made you promise to wear for her. And you are most definitely should not have been grinding on Jason Carver when he dropped you to Robin's.

Robin had caught you in Jason's car. Her arms were folded, and you could see her muscles bulging out. You knew there was no point in arguing with Robin as she pulled you out of the car and muttered a thanks to Jason as she pulled you into the house.

When the silence settled, and Robin's anger had subdued, she wrapped her hand around your throat. Your eyes widened as tears filled your eyes, trying to stutter out apologies to Robin. Expect when you looked at Robin, she was wearing a shit-eating smirk. Little bitch.

“You think you can be whore without Mommy knowing, hmm?” Robin had moved her hand up from your neck to your jaw, holding you in place. You tried to answer her but since your jaw was being held by Robin, your lips formed a pout, and you could only whimper in reply to her. “How many times does mommy have to tell you? Whatever is between your legs is mine."

Robin's hand moved up your legs, under your dress. You knew you shouldn't have worn that dress but seeing how easily Robin had access you weren't regretting it. Robin began stroking you through your damp underwear. "My baby girl might be whore." Robin spoke. "But your mommy's whore, aren't you?"

If Robin wanted to act like this, then two can play at this game. Just because Robin was fucking you, doesn't mean you can't. You were a fully grown adult; you were free to do whatever you wanted. But you knew the moment Robin ripped off your panties and pushed her fingers into your core, you completely forgot about why you were so angry.

In the next moments, Robin was pulling herself ontop of you. Her fingers never stopping their rough thrusts. The palm of her hand was slapping your clit, teasing you from what you really wanted.

“Please, mommy. More."

A smirk appeared on Robin's face more. You could feel your stomach clenching as Robin fucked you deeper and harder.

“Anything for my baby."

#kinkmas #kinkmas 2022 #kinkmas 22 #robin buckley #Robin buckley x reader #Robin Buckley smut #stranger things smut

149 notes · View notes

jenysmithnews · 1 year

Text

Heather's review of Jeny's latest video

" The Lost Warehouse, Oil "

We begin our adventure outside an abandoned warehouse as Jeny welcomes us 'hello guys' (one day she's going to make my year with 'ànd Heather') .Jeny is wearing what at first glance appears to be only a short trench coat ànd high heeled boots and carrying over one shoulder a folding seat and on the other shoulder a bag and, finally carrying her camera on its selfie stick.

Jeny starts to investigate her surroundings which on the ground floor is covered in broken glass which given the fact that she is in high heeled boots and not the easiest footwear to clamber about in (the lengths she goes to for her members!). Whilst looking about, Jeny spots a guy who may or may not have seen her (the other units at the location are in use with the constant noise one would expect).

Jeny eventuaĺly finds a relatively quiet spot and putting down all of the baggage she has been weighed down with, and undoes her belt and then unbuttons her jacket revealing her gorgeous bare breasts and a short black skirt which she pulls up and, guess what! she's not wearing panties. Jeny is looking so sexy but at the same time she clearly is nervous with every sound echoing around the empty shell of the building.

At that moment Jeny whispers to us that she needs to find a place to sit ( she's brought a folding one with her) and so she covers herself up and climbing up a further flight of stairs, Jeny reaches a large open space where she sets up the camera. Stepping back, Jeny unbuttons her jacket and this time she removes her skirt After further investigation she retŕaces her steps to the stairs only this she removes her coat ànd confidently strolls around in just her boots and gloves, her nakedness like a beacon of beauty. Jeny poses in the doorway and at windows for an imaginary photographer, showing her arousal, Jeny's nipples now erect point in the direction of another stairwell where Jeny almost skips down and back up, full of the excitement of being nude in the early Spring weather to where she's left her seat ànd clothes

Moving the seat to a more central space, Jeny makes sure her wonderful butt cheeks are always in view. Now we get to see the contents of the other bag, some kitchen towel and more importantly a bottle of oil! Tearing off some sheets of paper Jeny wipes the seat (our Queen isn't going to sit on a dirty throne!) She removes her gloves and rubs her hands, warming them prior to applying oil. Suddenly she is disturbed ɓy loader sounds and unlike the rest of us who would automatically reach for something to cover our nudity Jeny goes in search of the source of the noise wearing nothing but her boots and her large J and S earrings. Finding nothing she returns to the centre and applies more lotion stopping briefly to adjust the camera at the moment when we catch sight of our lone voyeur and as quickly he disappears back to the stairwell. Jeny's sixth sense is telling her that she was correct (me shouting at the TV 'behind you!' wasn't in the least bit helpful) she still doesn't dress immediately, stopping to wipe off the oil, well if you knew how long Jeny had been searching for a short trench coat!! Now fully dressed (well as fully dressed as Jeny normally is) She eventually makes it back to the car, passing by groups of workers amazed at seeing a beautiful high heeled clad woman jumping out of the abandoned warehouse

Back at the car, Jeny admits how scary things were before suggesting that this may well be the start of a series of oiĺ in abandoned buildings! I can only admire her courage in doing something that clearly excites her.

To see this video and many more like it, join us at JenySmith dot net

#oil #lord of the lost #warehouse #tunnels #corridors #scary stories #selfie #jeny smith

51 notes · View notes

lunargrapejuice · 2 years

Text

love is sweet

satoru gojo x afab!reader with no pronouns used | 1.7k + words

when the weight of the world feels like too much and only satoru can help, in ways only satoru can

warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, soft smut, anxious/stressed out reader, sensory overload mentions, crying, lots of pet names, not a great way to cope with your issues but i needed it so here we are, unedited

sometimes the stress and feelings of everyday life are too much, making it to tomorrow seems like an impossible task and yet everyday you push forward. the weight on your shoulders gets heavier and heavier no matter how much it feels like you can’t take it anymore and with each passing day you feel it bringing you further into the cold, dark ground.

you knows it's partly your own fault. if you could just articulate yours feelings and worries in words maybe you could talk about it, get it off your chest and allow someone to help but that's never been how you’ve done things. always having to learn things the hard way, so many people have described your failures and struggles as such and maybe they’re right. how much longer would you choose to suffer in silence when your heart is screaming for help, how much longer would you push down the lid with all your mite, attempting to keep everything at bay when you feel your emotions bubbling over? would anyone even care to listen when the words of your heart finally make it out of your mouth or when you needed help cleaning up the mess you could no longer stop from spilling over the edge?

there are a few in your life that you think might care but are you really ready to let it all out? to show what you think is the ugliest side of you to those you hold close? even if they’ve seen it before you hate when you slip and let those uncomfortable emotions show. you have to put on a good face, you don't want to upset anyone by being an imperfect vision of yourself.

some days the perfectionism you expect from yourself needs a lot of strength to hold together but it’s strength you don't always have and you feel it dwindling. work emails that you have to read multiple times have tears pricking at your eyes; no matter how many times you read the words they pass by and any information they may contain doesn’t register in your brain. loud cars outside make your skin crawl. on top of the thoughts in your head it's all too much. even the music you normally play in your headphones seems so overwhelming but somehow the silence is even worse, giving your anxious thoughts the perfect place to play their annoying tunes, to be as loud as they’d like.

the distractions you’ve planned ahead for yourself when you get like this don’t seem to be working either. the entire world around you is loud and suffocating, swirling with anger and stress and worries you’ve put off too long that won’t quiet down, that can’t be drowned out by anime or video games or manga.

there’s only one person you know that can draw your mind away from the most intense storms that rage and crash in your heart and before you fully register where you are and how or when you actually got there, you’re already knocking on his door with fightly balled up fists.

“well hello there my little mochi, what a sweet surprise.”

sartorus cooing voice pulls your gaze from the gray carpet, taking notice of the casual clothes he was wearing but when you look up into his sparkling cerulean eyes you aren’t sure if coming here was a good or bad idea. you’re not good at hiding from those eyes.

before he can look at your face long enough to see the pain and stress you try so hard to hide, you press into him. reaching up for his face with both hands and pulling his lips to yours as you move deeper into the apartment, kicking the door closed behind you with your heel.

satoru easily falls into rhythm with your movements, not missing a beat when you kiss him deep and desperate or tug at the strands of his white hair. the moan he lets slip past his lips when you tug a little harder than you normally do is sinful, electrifying and you hope maybe it’s enough to pull you from this stupor. strong hands find their way behind yours legs, eager fingers sinking into the fat of your thighs before lifting you off the ground and making his way towards the bedroom. your lips never part even though you’re finding it hard to breathe. all you want to feel is this, to feel him; anything but this uncomfortableness in your chest and the looming darkness that covers your shoulders like a heavy cloak.

your back meets the soft plush of his mattress and you flex your legs around him, pulling sartorus hardening dick to your clothed cunt. he smirks against your lips and finally pulls away for so much needed air. his bright eyes stand out in the dim light of the room and you can feel his gaze eating you up. you need to move, to do anything to stop him from looking too deep and seeing that which you try so hard to hide

“please fuck me ‘toru,” you beg, reaching out for him and closing your eyes before your gazes meet. could he have seen the tears on the rims of your eyes in this lighting? you hope not. but it doesn’t matter because your voice gives you away. no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t hide the strain in your voice, not from someone who has memorized each octave of the sound he found most lovely in the world.

satoru feels his heart drop to his stomach and pulls away from you, his once eager expression turning to worry. “bunny, what’s wrong?”

his anxious tone almost brings your not so well put together walls crumbling down into nothing but sand. you can feel him looking at you but you don’t open your eyes, too afraid you’ll cry if you get a good look at him. instead you bring your hands up to your face in an attempt to hide and avoid his question, close yourself off but long and slender fingers that have no intention of letting you slip past them wrap around your wrists and pull your hands far away until they’re resting against something hard and filled with warmth; his chest.

“y/n…” his voice is soft, barely above a whisper. “..have i done something wrong?”

hot tears spill from your closed eyes out without permission. this was exactly what you didn’t want.. you didn’t want to hurt or burden him or make him worry.. how is it that you’ve made the most confident man you knowsquestion if he was the problem? something was wrong with you, not him, never him.

“no love.. not at all..”

he lets go of one of your wrists but you keep it on his chest, his heat and the beating inside his chest calming your own racing heart. his touches come to your face, gently wiping the tears away but they’re only replaced with more. “what is it then?”

his touch coaxes your eyes open and even though you want to look away or stop crying like a baby underneath him, you can’t bring yourself to do either. using his shirt under your fingers you pull him close again. if he really wanted to he could have resisted but he doesn’t and he lets you pepper kisses onto his exposed neck.

“dont wanna talk about it,” you say through the press of your lips to his soft skin, his sugary scent filling your nose and your tears salting your tongue. “i just want you.. please..”

“angel-”

“‘toru!” your cry of his name cuts off his words and the force you use to pull him closer has him almost unable to stop his body from completely crushing yours, only barely to move his hand to hold himself above you, but you wouldn’t care if it did. you just needed to stop him before there was no turning back, before your emotions burst into a raging sea and took you both down with it. burying your face into his neck, letting his snowy hair tickle your forehead, you push out the last bit of words your body can muster and hope it’s enough to convince him to give into your wishes, even though you both know it’s not the best way to cope with what’s on your mind. “don’t want to think about anything but you so please.. help me forget about it.. just for a little while.”

“okay,” he says tenderly against the side of your head and uses his strength to lift you from the bed and into his lap. his next words are whispered on your lips as you tug at and unbutton his shirt, your eyes still weeping but he’d be sure to stop them soon enough. “it’s okay, i’ve got you.”

every movement he makes is slow and considerate, with enough pressure you remind you he’s there and to lean on him but enough gentleness to remind you that you would be okay and if all else failed, he would be there to hold you through it all. he would ensure nothing, not even your own mind, could harm you. he wouldn’t allow it and as the strongest, he would make and keep that promise to you over and over again.

any clothes you both had on were left forgotten on his bedroom floor and all that remained on your body was lingering warmth from each kiss his lips placed on it and he didn’t let a single spot go untouched.

over your relationship together you have known satoru to be many things; forward. teasing. annoying. sweet like the candy he so often ate. a lover who could fuck you hard and fast, tame a bratty side of you in only a way he could, but also fuck you slow and romantic like you were the only one he has ever loved but nothing prepared you for the tenderness he displayed tonight.

sweet and honest words of your beauty, your strength, your love, your kindness, whispered against your skin lit your cold heart on fire and when his long fingers spread your wet folds and sank into your tight cunt, inch by inch, your whole body matched the heat of your chest. every curl of his fingers inside your velvety walls has you forgetting more and more about the burdens that weighed so heavily on you before and soon, when his aching cock fills you the brim, the whole world is nothing but soft white, crystalline blue, the love you hold for each other and the smell of strawberry cake.

main masterlist

#satoru gojo #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojou x reader #satoru gojou #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #satoru gojo smut #lunas moonlight stories #satoru gojou smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru

185 notes · View notes

iamfruitie · 3 months

Text

Caution and Care Pt. 1

Welcome to a prequel series to the dantimadmare horned!omegaverse that we can all thank @bookwormscififan for convincing me to write XD

I'm not sure how long this will be, but I just couldn't stop thinking about how Dark, Anti, and Mad became mates before Mare joined

There will very likely be some spice because I am weak

Summary: Anti and Mad are omegas that were kicked out of their home pack and left to fend for themselves on the streets to the point that they're starving, sick, and huddled together in an ally, praying for the rain to stop and that the night won't be too cold. Dark, an alpha running a business that one wouldn't call the most legal, finds Anti and Mad in the ally and convinces them to come to his Manor to heal. Little did the three know how close they would become.

Lost and Found

Dark looked like any other intimidating alpha at first glance. Tall stature, broad shoulders, and horns almost pitch black. He dressed in a suit that cost more than the gold watch he was glancing at, checking the time as he headed for his car. The phone he returned to his ear was the same black as his horns, and so was the umbrella he held. The rain had calmed since earlier that morning, but there was still a steady drizzle. The gray clouds above made it hard to see the setting sun’s colors, showing it would get dark soon.

“I parked a few blocks away. I’ll be there soon. There are some new…” Dark’s voice trailed off when he thought he heard a whimper down the ally beside him. “I have to go.” He hung up the call and waited to see if that sound had happened. It was only a few seconds before there was another whimper. The whimper was a pain-filled one, with some heavy coughs following.

Dark couldn’t stop his feet from heading down the ally, something telling him that whoever was coughing and whimpering needed help.

“Hello?” Dark called and watched as something moved beside the dumpster, where more coughing stemmed from. “Hello?” He called again as he neared the dumpster. “Oh.”

“Go away!” An omega hissed at Dark. The omega was soaked from the rain, gaunt in the face like he hadn’t eaten in weeks, but he was using his slightly larger body to cover another omega who looked worse off. The smaller omega was trembling, curled up, and his body convulsed with each cough.

“You guys need to get out of the rain.” Dark held his umbrella away from himself and over the omegas, getting another hiss.

“I said go away! I know how you alphas are. You can fuck off!”

“My name’s Dark.” Dark kept a soft, calm tone. He could tell the omega was scared, and based on what he just said, he couldn’t blame him. “Can I at least help you get back home?”

“We don’t have one.” The omega tried to keep his own harsh tone, but it broke a little at that admission.

“I have a Manor, a large building with endless spare rooms. I have a doctor who can help you two get better. We have warm water and fresh food.” Dark could see how each thing he said made the omega look down at the other, swallowing thickly as the smaller omega started coughing again. “You can leave at any time. Just let me at least help you get back on your feet.”

“Why?” The omega asked in almost a whisper. “Why are you offering this? What are you expecting in return?” That look in the omega’s eyes told Dark so many things.

“Because you two don’t deserve to die out here, and I don’t expect anything.” Dark could tell the omega didn’t fully believe him, but he nodded.

“Okay.” The omega started moving, body shaking lightly as he slowly stood up. “Mad, we’re moving.” He spoke to the other omega, trying to pick him up.

“Anti?” The smaller omega’s voice was hoarse.

“I can help.” Dark started reaching over, pulling his hands back when the omega, Anti, hissed at him, stopping short of biting him.

“Don’t touch him.” Anti was clearly using what little strength his body had left to stand with the other omega, with Mad.

“I’m not going to hurt you, I promise. My car’s a block away. I don’t think you can get that far on your own.” Dark tucked his umbrella away under his armpit, uncaring of getting himself wetter and wanting both hands to help the omegas.

“I got it.” Anti wrapped Mad’s arm across his shoulders and managed a few steps before his legs buckled, and he fell to his knees.

“Please, let me help.” Dark waited as Anti seemed to be swallowing his pride.

“Fine.” Anti tried getting back up and stiffened at Dark’s hands on himself and Mad. He tightened his hold on Mad as Dark practically carried both of them out of the ally and down the sidewalk. Dark didn’t like how light the two felt. How long were they out here on their own?

“Here we go.” Dark opened the back door to his car and guided the two in. After ensuring they were in and sitting, he went to his trunk, popped it open, and pulled out the spare towels he kept back there. Dark placed the folded towels on Anti’s lap. “Just to help give you a head start drying off.” He explained before closing the door and getting into the driver’s seat.

Dark adjusted his rearview mirror to check on Anti and Mad. Anti was drying off Mad the best he could before wrapping one of the towels around his shoulders. He used another like a blanket on himself and wrapped his arms around Mad, a hint of a soothing purr coming from him as he and Mad curled up against each other.

Dark could also get a better look at their faces. Anti had a cut on the side of his neck, an old one that seemed to be beginning to heal, and he noticed that a horn was broken, a chunk of the tip missing. His eyes were soft blue, and his short hair was the same dark brown as his horns. Mad had freckles covering his whole face, eyes a deep hazel, and his short, wavey hair and horns were a lighter brown than Anti’s. He didn’t seem to have any visible wounds, but who knows what he’s seen.

Dark felt a strange warmth in his chest, assuming it was caused by being able to tell that the two omegas had been through a lot. Dark has had his fair share of hell, and perhaps he had a strong desire to help since he understood all too well. He turned the heat up and turned on the seat warmers before he drove off for the Manor.

x~x~x

“There you are, Dark. How was that-” Wilford, an alpha even larger than Dark with dyed pink hair and horns painted with light blue swirls, had his question stop when he saw Dark walking into the Manor with two soaking wet omegas. JJ, his omega mate with silver chains and diamonds wrapped around his horns, made a worried squeak at the scene. “What happened? Are they okay?” Wilford went over to help and stepped away, hands up in the air, when he got hissed at by Anti. It only took JJ a second to catch on.

“Wilford, go start a hot bath in a spare room. Dark, let’s get them to that room, and then you go get Edward.” JJ’s voice sounded strained as if speaking was painful, but he was talking casually, showing that it was just how his voice came out. “Go.” He shooed Wilford away with his hands. Wilford nodded and jogged off. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you out of those wet clothes and warmed up soon enough.” JJ gently placed a hand on Anti’s shoulder, and Dark was shocked that Anti allowed it. However, that shock lasted for only a second. JJ was an omega, likely seeming much safer than Wilford or himself since they were alphas. “What are your names?” JJ asked as the four of them walked.

“I’m Anti, and this is Mad,” Anti answered.

“I’m JJ, and that big goof you saw earlier is my mate Wilford.”

“Big goof?” Anti repeated with a little chuckle.

“Most of the alphas that work here are.” JJ gestured with his head toward Dark and got another chuckle from Anti. Dark felt himself relaxing as Anti and Mad did the same.

“Water is warm and filling up the tub,” Wilford said as the others entered the room.

“Good, good, now you two go. This is for omegas only.” JJ placed his hands on Dark and Wilford’s backs, walking them out of the room.

“Are you sure you can-”

“I will call if I need help. Go get Edward and make some food for them..” JJ stopped Dark’s question and closed the door. “Let’s get you two cleaned up, shall we?”

“I can take care of us if you don’t want to,” Anti said, clearly still too weak to walk much on his own, let alone bring Mad with him.

“Oh, nonsense; if I didn’t want to help. I would have gone off.” JJ clicked his tongue and returned to helping Mad and Anti walk, guiding them to the bathroom. Just the steam in the air alone felt so good to Mad and Anti, the warmth so calm and inviting. “When was the last time you two ate?” He asked as he helped get the wet clothing off of Mad while Anti undressed, hands shaking but moving with determination.

“Too long,” Mad answered softly, hugging himself when his body was bare.

“We’ll get you nice and full as well. I bet a home-cooked meal will help you even more.” JJ guided Mad into the tub, and Anti climbed in with him, using the wall as leverage. A groan escaped both of their lips as they sat down in the water. Mad took a deep inhale and started coughing harshly. “Oh dear, we’ll have Edward look into that cough.”

“He doesn’t have a fever. I don’t know what’s causing it.” Anti said.

“Maybe a bug or something. Edward’s a talented doctor and will get you two good as new as quickly as possible.” JJ grabbed a cleaning rag and dunked it into the water. He took one of the soaps, squirted it on the rag, and cleaned Mad’s back.

“I’m shocked you’re not asking how Dark found us.” Anti let himself sink a little more into the water.

“Dark’s found most of us on the streets. I assumed you’re likely the same, and if I’m wrong, then it’s none of my concern unless you wish to tell me.” JJ softly smiled when Mad began to purr.

“Is this just a big home for abandoned people or something? Does he have a bunch of omegas hidden away here?”

“I was actually the only omega before you two arrived. Everyone else here are alphas. The business kind of calls for that.”

“Business?”

“Now, that’s something I’m not allowed to explain without Dark’s permission. But I promise you’re not in any danger.” JJ handed Mad the rag and let him try cleaning the rest of himself, mostly only needing his arms aside from his hair. He got a new rag, repeated the prepping process, and moved to Anti’s side of the tub.

“That doesn’t make me feel better,” Anti muttered, turning and letting JJ clean his back off. It had been so long since he’d gotten cleaned by a fellow omega or even just clean in general, and it internally hugged that need within him.

“It’s complicated,” JJ said.

“Is this shampoo?” Mad asked, grabbing one of the bottles from the side of the tub. He got a nod from JJ and then started using his hands to wet his hair.

“Sounds like the stuff you’re doing is illegal.” Anti hummed and had his comment confirmed when JJ didn’t respond. “Strangely enough, that makes me feel better.”

“How?” JJ asked, working on cleaning Anti’s shoulders and pausing at the sight of the wound on his neck. He tried to ignore the broken horn, but the wound made it stick out even more. JJ wanted to ask what happened and what caused this. Horns were a massive pride point for anyone, so bringing up a horn’s damage was taboo, and that kept those questions sealed away.

“Come here, Mad.” Anti beckoned Mad over to him with his hands. He took the shampoo and poured some into his hands before scrubbing it into Mad’s hair. Mad relaxed against Anti and started purring right away. “And it’s because if you’re telling the truth about being the only omega and you only smell of your mate, then what’s happening here doesn’t involve hurting omegas.”

“Smart man.” JJ softly chuckled, being as gentle as possible with wetting Anti’s hair and scrubbing some shampoo into it as well.

“That’s Mad. He’s the smart one of us.” Anti leaned into the touch.

“If he’s the smart one, I’m a little concerned about just how intelligent he is.”

“You should be.”

“Hello?” A voice spoke from the bedroom door.

“That’s Edward,” JJ explained, rinsing his hands off in the water before getting up. “Give me a moment, and I’ll help you two get out of the tub. There’s some spare clothing in the bedroom, and I’ll see what I can find to fit you.” Anit just nodded to show that he understood. JJ stepped out of the bathroom and closed the door.

“Are we staying here, Anti?” Mad asked.

“For a bit. They promised food and a doctor’s going to check on you. If things look too dodgy, we’ll sneak out.” Anti started using his hands to cup some water and began rinsing Mad’s hair.

“I hope it’s nice here. I miss being in a home.” Mad sighed.

“I know. And sleeping on a soft, clean bed sounds so good.” Anti checked that all of the soap was gone from Mad’s hair before hugging him, resting his head on his shoulder, and having his soapy hair facing away from Mad’s neck. “Maybe we’ll get lucky, and we can live here. But I’ll need to figure out these alphas first.”

“I think we’ll be okay here.”

“You’re already sounding better by just taking a bath. Hopefully, that doctor of theirs is a good one.”

“Yeah.” Mad’s voice trailed off, showing that what little energy burst he had gotten had worn off.

“I’ll bite them if they’re not.” Anti’s threat got Mad to giggle.

“It’s me,” JJ said before walking back into the bathroom, holding some clothing in his hands. “They have some food cooking for you to eat after a quick look over by Edward. Let’s finish your hair and get you both dried off and dressed.” He sat the clothing down on the toilet and started rinsing the soap from Anti’s hair.

“What all is this Edward wanting to do?” Anti asked.

“Temperature, weight, make sure you don’t have any infections. He’ll probably want a closer look at your neck and horn.” JJ wasn’t shocked when Anti placed a hand over the broken part of his horn.

“It’s fine,” Anti muttered.

“It’s better to be safe than sorry. I’ll stay in the room if you’d like.” JJ stood up and helped Mad to his feet, getting him out of the tub and wrapping a towel around him.

“Please,” Mad said softly, hugging himself with the towel, enjoying how soft and fluffy it was.

“Are you okay with that?” JJ asked Anti, helping him from the tub next and wrapping a towel around him, too.

“If Mad is, then I am.” Anti stated, trying to sound neutral, but JJ could tell he was also thankful for the offer.

“I’m not sure how well these will fit you, but they’re clean and dry.” JJ helped both of them get dressed, having caught on to Anti’s protection of Mad, and got him dressed first. “Not too bad,” JJ said after Mad and Anti had the clothing on. He had grabbed the same size for both of them, and it was a little big on Anti, making it a little bigger than that on Mad. “Are you ready? Edward’s likely already set up in the room for you two.” JJ waited as Mad took Anti’s hand and squeezed it.

“We’re ready,” Anti said with a nod.

------

Next Part: Link

#horned!omegaverse #antimad #danti #maddark #dantimad #fruitie writes

8 notes · View notes

kanerallels · 9 months

Note

I've been reading one of your Kanera writings prompt. My fave is It's The Way You're Smiling at Me 😘 It was so interesting to me. I love the part Kanan say a queen of godness, Ezra's doing kind of matchmaker of Kanan and Hera and told the others how much they like each other. Plus Sabine falsely accused Kanan as a theif and Ezra's in fencing club.

If you don't mind, would you like to write about Kanan and Hera watching Ezra's fencing club as they express their feelings each other ? I bet it would be wonderful 😘

Thanks for the ask!! I know you sent this like a million years ago but I finally finished the fic, and I hope you enjoy it! Happy Kanera Week!

Read on AO3!

@kaneraweek

There were many times in his life where Kanan had found himself in truly strange situations— in fact, he’d been told by more than a few people that he had something of a knack for it.

He’d met his current housemate when they’d both wound up at the same Waffle House around midnight after getting into a brawl at the bar Kanan had worked at at the time. He’d gotten his job at Kasmiri Locks when one of the owners— who happened to be an old friend of his— had dared him to break into the other owner’s shed to show off his lock-picking skills. And he was currently on his way to a fencing match that he’d been invited to after being hit in the face with a frying pan while he was working.

At this point, he was learning to just accept these things.

More or less, anyways. He was still kind of recovering from the frying pan incident— and not because of the mild concussion.

No, the real thing Kanan couldn’t stop thinking about, the thing that had him driving to a high school on a Saturday afternoon when he would usually be staying in or working a shift at Okadiah’s bar, was Hera Syndulla.

She had been the person who’d called him, saying that she’d locked herself out of her house with a fairly normal hint of embarrassment. And from the moment she spoke, Kanan had been blown away.

Her voice— so unlike the usual irritated customers at Kasmiri Locks— had caught a hold of him, drawing his attention irresistibly. Before he’d known what he was doing, Kanan had started to flirt, the way he had when he was much younger and more foolish.

This hadn’t exactly changed when he got to the house and saw that she was the most stunningly gorgeous woman he’d ever met. And not just that— she’d handled his flirting with remarkable poise, and Kanan could tell that she cared deeply about her kids.

She was lovely and smart and tough, and Kanan was still absolutely floored that he’d gotten her number. He’d fully expected to be shot down, even when her foster son made a point of telling him that she was single. Multiple times.

But somehow, against all odds, he had her number scribbled on his palm in fading blue ink— not that it mattered. He’d long since committed it to memory, which his housemate Dark had mocked him for relentlessly.

They’d texted back and forth a few times, just to confirm the location of the fencing match. Neither of them had said much of anything else just yet— Kanan wasn’t sure why. It almost felt like they were both trying to avoid talking about just why he was coming to this, like they were holding their breath, each waiting for the other to make the next move.

And whatever that next move was, Kanan really, really didn’t want to screw it up.

I guess here goes nothing, he thought as he pulled into the parking lot of Lothal High School. It took him a few minutes to find a parking spot— there were more cars than he would have expected for a high school fencing match. But he hadn’t been in town for long— maybe there was more hype around this than he thought.

It took him a few more minutes of searching before he finally found a parking spot. Pulling in, he switched off the truck and checked the time on his phone— he still had a few minutes before the match started. So I’m not late— yet, he thought, jumping out of the truck and slamming the door shut behind him.

He made his way through the parking lot, weaving between cars. Halfway to the school entrance Kanan caught sight of a familiar vehicle.

Hera’s car sat neatly parked in the middle of the lot. The silver minivan was an older model, but still clearly in good shape, and clearly recognizable thanks to the stickers on the back window. One of them was an artistic rendering of an orange bird with its wings outstretched, the tips like flickering flames.

Below them, painted onto the metal, was a tiny sketch that looked like it was inspired by those sticker figure families that Kanan had seen a hundred times on the back of client’s cars. This one, however, was a little different. For one, it was far more detailed, and Kanan came a little closer to look at it.

It was clear right away which one was Hera. She was standing behind the others, hands on her hips, an expression on her face that was definitely protective. Her green-tipped hair was swept up in a messy bun with a green bandana, and she had a wrench in one hand. At her feet sat an orange cat that glowered at Kanan with such malevolence that he almost took a step back.

In front of her were Sabine— brightly colored, both in hair and in garb. She was surrounded by a record player, a can of spray paint, and what looked like the logo from a nearby martial arts place Kanan recognized— and Ezra. The kid was wearing the same orange hoodie he’d worn when Kanan first met the family, had a fencing foil in one hand, and a sign that Kanan couldn’t quite read in his other hand.

Zeb stood a little off to the side, but still with the group. His arms were folded, but he was smiling, and wore a sleeveless U.S Marines hoodie that showed off the tattoos on his arms.

This is pretty cool, Kanan thought, studying it for a moment longer. And then he remembered what time it was, which galvanized him into action and towards the school.

The front door was locked, so Kanan had to loop around until he found an unlocked side door. From there, it was just a matter of finding the gym. Unfortunately, that wasn’t as easy as it looked.

He was in the middle of wandering the hallways, hoping against hope that he’d accidentally find his way to the right room, when he heard someone behind him.“Kanan! There you are, mate!”

Kanan turned at the sound of Zeb’s voice. The big man was strolling towards him, wearing a flannel shirt over a t-shirt emblazoned with the words “U.S. Marines”. Waving, he said, “About time you got here— Hera and the others were starting to get worried. Let me guess— you got lost?”

“In my defense, I didn’t go to school here,” Kanan said, following him as they started down the hall. “My school was less… big. And it didn’t have a gym.”

Sending him a sideways glance, Zeb asked, “What kind of school doesn’t have a gym?”

“The kind that’s actually your house.”

“Guess I can’t argue with that logic.”

Shoving open the door, Zeb led Kanan into the massive, arched shape of the high school’s gym. To either side of them were the bleachers, and Kanan spotted Hera right away.

It helped that the bleachers weren’t too crowded, but he had a feeling he would have picked her out anyways. Her curly hair was twisted back with a green bandana, and she had a bomber jacket folded across her knees.

She didn’t see him and Zeb as they climbed the bleacher’s steps. Instead, her gaze was focused on the gym before her as she half leaned forward, intent on watching the scene in front of them.

“The kid start yet?” Zeb asked as they approached, and Hera’s gaze snapped back up to them— first to Zeb, and then to Kanan. A smile crossed her face as she met his gaze, and Kanan felt his heart skip a beat.

“Not yet,” she told Zeb. As the bigger man slid past her, sitting down on her other side, Hera said, “Good to see you made it.”

“Sorry I’m late,” Kanan said, sitting next to her. “Got a little lost.”

“I’m just glad you made it,” Hera told him. “Ezra’s been talking about this all week.”

“She says, like she hasn’t been thinking about it all week, too,” Sabine chipped in. Kanan followed the sound of her voice to where she was sitting on Zeb’s other side, paint splattered high tops propped up on the seat in front of her. He was also pretty sure she’d changed her hair color in the time since he’d first met her— the ombre blue-green looked fresh. Giving Kanan a half wave, she said, “Hey. How’s your head?”

Grinning, Kanan said, “Less sore, but still a little sensitive. You and your frying pan pack a wallop.”

Sabine looked distinctly pleased by that statement, and Hera sighed. “Please try and remember that he easily could have sued us for that.”

“Pretty sure I was justified,” Sabine said. “I mean, it looked like he was a stranger breaking into our house. It would probably hold up in court.”

“Not too sure about that,” Zeb said. “Looks like they’re finally getting started out there.”

Kanan turned, following his nod to the open gym before them. There were two small clusters of fencers, each already wearing their protective gear, and most wearing their masks. He spotted a familiar head of dark blue-black hair— Ezra was in the larger of the two groups, bouncing up and down on the tips of his toes.

“Where’s the other group from?” Kanan asked Hera, nodding to the smaller crowd. They wore red armbands, probably to distinguish them from the other group, who wore orange.

“Imperial Academy— a private school a few towns away,” Hera replied. “They’re one of the only schools that have fencers around Ezra’s age, so we go up against them pretty often. Which has resulted in… a few rivalries.”

“No, the fact they’re massive jerks caused the rivalries,” Sabine chipped in. “Well, some of them aren’t totally awful. But most of them are. Which is why it’s so satisfying to watch Ezra and the Skywalker kids wipe the floor with them.”

Lifting an eyebrow at Kanan, Hera said, “As you can see, it’s not just the fencers who get competitive.”

Kanan nearly snorted, and hastily turned into a cough. “I can imagine,” he said gravely. “How does he do?”

“Pretty well,” Hera said, a look of pride flashing across her face. “He’s one of the better ones in the school, and he spends a lot of time practicing. We’ve looked into finding him a private coach, but it’s never quite worked out.”

Rubbing at his chin thoughtfully, Kanan said, “In my experience, that helps, but it’s not the be all, end all of fencing. Does this team have a coach?”

Hera nodded, pointing towards a tall redhead standing on the sidelines of the gym. “Cal Kestis. He’s part time, though— he also teaches and coaches a few other sports. His wife and foster daughter should be in the stands somewhere— we’ve had them over for dinner a few times.”

“Merrin is awesome,” Sabine said. “She helped me pick out the throwing stars I bought.”

Lifting an eyebrow, Kanan said, “I see I was lucky it was just a frying pan. Kestis, you say? I think I knew a Kestis, back in my fencing days. He was good, too. If they’re the same, you’re lucky to have him.”

“Don’t we know it,” Hera said. “Oh— it looks like the pools are starting.”

Kanan pulled his attention back to where the two groups of fencers were being sorted, by a referee and two other others he assumed were judges, into groups. This was, he recalled, the first part of any fencing tournament. Each person in a group would have the chance to fence all of the others in three minute rounds, and the points they racked up would determine who they fenced in the next stage.

It had been a long time since he fenced. But he still remembered the surge of excitement he’d gotten at the starting of these matches, the thrill of adrenaline going through him.

He missed it. He probably always would. But for now, he pushed aside those feelings and turned his attention back to the match in front of him.

Ezra was one of the first up, and Kanan watched intently as he fought, and cheered him on as he went. He heard Hera and the others doing the same, and at one point glanced over to see her watching him, her expression thoughtful.

“What?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow at her.

“Nothing,” she said. “Just… I guess I didn’t expect you to get this invested.”

“Fencing’s my sport, remember?” Kanan pointed out. “And he’s pretty good at it, too.”

“It’s not just that kind of invested,” Hera said. “It’s— I guess I didn’t expect to meet someone who cares this much, this quickly.”

The honesty in her voice caught Kanan off guard, and after a split second, he decided to match it. “It’s a bad habit of mine, apparently. And Ezra’s a good kid. I like seeing him succeed.”

“That makes two of us,” Hera said, and they exchanged a smile.

Next to her, Sabine cleared her throat pointedly. “Not that this isn’t adorable, but I have a couple questions for you, Kanan.”

“As long as I can watch and answer questions,” Kanan said wryly. “Let me guess— this is the part where you and Zeb grill me for information to make sure I’m not up to no good?”

“I mean, Hera’s helping too, but yes,” Sabine said.

Kanan shot Hera a surprised look, and she met his gaze calmly. “If you’re going to be around my kids, I want to make sure you’re safe.”

“Fair enough,” Kanan acknowledged. “Okay, hit me. Not literally.”

“Ha, ha,” Sabine said, and Kanan could hear the eyeroll. Hopping to her feet, she vaulted over the seats in front of her and moved in front of him, her expression stern and serious. “Okay— full legal name?”

“Kanan Caleb Levi Jarrus,” Kanan told her. “I’ve gone by my birth parent’s surname before, but not for a while now.”

Beginning to pace back and forth, Sabine asked, “Current job?”

“Handyman and all purpose fix-it guy for Kasmiri Locks— which you already know, so why are you asking me?”

“I’ll ask the questions here,” Sabine told him coolly, and Kanan saw Hera cover a smile. “Have any siblings?”

“Biologically, I don’t think so, legally, one brother, and emotionally, sort of.” Kanan folded his arms. “How am I doing on your questions?”

Lifting her chin, Sabine said, “Fine. For now. Here’s a big one— criminal record?”

Kanan held back a wince. He’d had a feeling this one was going to come up. And while his mistakes might have been in the past for him, that wasn’t going to be true for everyone. So all he could do was be honest.

He directed his gaze and his response at Hera as he said, “I’ve been arrested twice. Once for being drunk and disorderly, and I was charged that time. The other time was resisting arrest and assault of an officer— also while drunk— and it’s a miracle that he let me go.”

Hera’s expression was unreadable as she asked, “Why did he?”

“Because he knew my family,” Kanan answered. “And because he knew that… I’d lost my mom a few months earlier. She died when I was nineteen, and I was kind of a mess for a while. Drank a little too much, picked some fights. Most of them didn’t land me in too much legal trouble. But those two did— or almost did.” Shaking his head, he said, “Gray didn’t arrest me, though. He just told me to get my crap together and drove me home. It was… weirdly helpful. Started me on the path that got me into a less stupid and way more sober place, so there’s that.”

Sighing, he said, “I don’t drink any more— and I know that it all sounds bad. Because it was. Honestly, though, I usually just think about how it could have been a lot worse, and how lucky I am that it wasn’t.”

He fell silent, and looked at Sabine and Hera. The teenager was studying him with a frown— and then she let out a massive sigh. “Kriff. You were right, Hera.”

“I know,” Hera said, her expression serene. But Kanan caught a tiny smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.

“Hang on,” he said slowly, frowning at them. “Did you— you knew about my record?”

“I did,” Sabine said cheerfully. “And I told Hera and Zeb.”

“What— how? Did you google me?”

Rolling her eyes, Sabine said, “Obviously, but not much came up. My skip tracer found out about the jail thing.”

Kanan’s eyebrows shot up. “Your what?”

“I’m thinking about being a cop when I grow up,” Sabine told him. “I figured I should get started cultivating my sources early. Merrin recommended the guy, so he’s probably trustworthy.”

“I’m not sure whether I should feel like my privacy was invaded, or if I should be impressed,” Kanan said, shaking his head. “Find anything else interesting?”

Sabine shrugged. “Not too much. Your grandpa was a cop, which I respect. And apparently your mom was a professional fencer?”

“She was,” Kanan said. “One of the best. So, do I pass your test?”

“Well, you told us about the jail thing, so you passed mine,” Sabine said with a shrug. “Zeb?”

“He showed up, didn’t he?” Zeb pointed out. “I think I’m good. Hera?”

Kanan glanced at Hera, who let out a half laugh. “I’d say so, yes.”

“Good,” Sabine said. “Cause it looks like the pools are ending, which means Ezra is gonna want to see him in a minute. And it also means it’s time to go get snacks.”

“Is there a concession stand?” Kanan asked.

“Less a stand, and more some of the older students with a box of candy and a folding table,” Sabine said. “But we’ll take what we can get. Zeb?”

Standing up, Zeb said, “I’m with ya. Anyone else want anything?”

“I’m good,” Hera said. “Kanan?”

Nodding, Kanan said, “Actually, I’d take a Butterfingers if they’re selling them. You want some cash for it?”

“The day I can’t shell out a buck for some candy for a mate is the day I hand in my badge,” Zeb said, rolling his eyes. “See you in a bit.”

The two of them headed back down the bleachers, leaving Kanan and Hera alone. Kanan was surprised by just how nervous he wasn’t at the thought, frankly. He wanted to get this right, he knew that much. But somehow, being around Hera felt… easy. Like it was where he was supposed to be.

Neither of them spoke for a while— instead, they sat and watched Ezra fence his final opponent in companionable silence. Eventually, as the bout came to an end, Hera said, “I am sorry about the whole skip tracer incident.”

“You did tell me you wanted to make sure I was safe for your kids,” Kanan pointed out. “If it wasn’t for the fact that, you know, Sabine’s a teenager, I should have expected it.”

“Still— I should have realized we were prying into a potentially painful time in your life,” Hera said. She turned to look at him, her gaze apologetic. “I’m sorry. About that, and your mother.”

Kanan paused before speaking, surprised by the wave of emotion that swept through him at Hera’s words. “Thanks,” he finally said, clearing his throat. “And you’re forgiven, I promise. Please remember that I shamelessly flirted with you while I was supposed to be working.”

“As I recall, you managed to do both with some proficiency,” Hera said, and Kanan couldn’t hold back his grin.

“Are you saying the flirting worked?”

“You’re here, aren’t you?” Hera pointed out, looking distinctly unflustered. She paused, then added, “I’m glad you did come.”

“Me, too,” Kanan said. “I’m glad you still wanted me to come after learning about… everything.”

“It threw me for a minute,” Hera admitted. “But it’s not right to judge you based on your past. And clearly, based on the fact my teenager knocked you out with a frying pan, you’re not a master criminal. Despite the lockpicking.”

Kanan laughed. “Good point. And trust me, I was far from a master criminal back then, too.”

They fell into conversation— Kanan telling her stories about work, Hera responding with wry quips that made him laugh every time. He learned that she was a pilot, and worked as a school guidance counselor. She’d never thought about fostering kids before she met Ezra, but now she couldn’t imagine her life without him. Her life was busy and chaotic, and she loved it, no matter how hard it was.

Watching her talk about it, Kanan found himself loving it, too.

At the end of the pools, there was a brief timeout while the scores were tallied so that fencers could be matched with their opponents for the direct elimination round. At this point, Sabine and Zeb returned, carrying more candy than Kanan would have thought was possible.

“Did you leave anything for the others?” Hera asked, lifting an eyebrow at them as Sabine shuffled past her, her hands full of Skittles and Sour Patch Kids, and her pockets bulging with candy bars.

Taking his seat, Zeb opened a Snickers as he said, “Hey, someone had to support them financially. We’re here for them. Oh, almost forgot— here’s your candy, mate.”

Kanan accepted the three king-sized Butterfingers, struggling to keep a straight face. “That’s all? I was kind of hoping you’d get me a lot of these.”

“Rude,” Sabine said through a mouthful of Skittles. “Hera, they were selling those fruit snacks you liked, so we got you some. Want them?”

“Not yet,” Hera told her, getting to her feet. “I’m going to go talk to Ezra before his next match starts.” Glancing at Kanan, she said, “Do you want to come?”

“Me?” Kanan blinked, surprised. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“He’s the one who invited you,” Hera pointed out. “He’ll be happy to see you. Come on.”

Rising from his seat, Kanan followed her down the bleachers to the bench on the sidelines, where most of the fencers were resting. Ezra, on the other hand, was on his feet, bouncing on his toes with a water bottle on one hand. He spotted Hera almost immediately, and a second later his gaze landed on Kanan.

“You made it!” he said, sounding delighted.

“Wouldn’t have missed it,” Kanan assured him. “You’ve been doing pretty good, kid. Giving your opponents a run for their money, I see.”

“Especially the Imperials,” Ezra said, rolling his eyes. “They’re all the worst. Well, except that girl Luke has a crush on. Oh, and Zev, obviously.”

“Who could forget Zev?” Hera said wryly. “I just came down to check on you— you’re doing okay? Staying hydrated?”

“I’m good,” Ezra said. “Just ready to kick some butt! Leia said she was counting, and she’s pretty sure I’m gonna be in fourth or fifth.”

A flash of pride crossed Hera’s face. “You’re doing amazingly, Ezra. We should probably get back to our seats— play smart, okay?” Leaning over, she pressed a kiss against his forehead.

“Hera!” Ezra protested. “No one else’s mom is coming down to kiss them.”

“You should know better than to think that’s going to stop me,” Hera shot back. “We’ll be watching in the stands.” Glancing at Kanan, she said, “You ready?”

Pausing, Kanan said, “Can you give me a minute, actually? If that’s alright. I just want to offer some advice.”

Hera hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. I’ll see you back up there in a minute.”

“Be there soon,” Kanan promised as she headed back for the stairs. For just a minute, he watched her go, then turned back to Ezra. Who was grinning.

“So, is the date going well?”

“Does it count as a date if you’re the one who invited me?” Kanan pointed out.

Ezra rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on. Hera really likes you, you know. She doesn’t actually give people her number all that often, and it’s not like there are a small number of guys who hit on her.”

Kanan winced. “Hence the skip tracer, huh?”

“Oh, Sabine told you about that? Nice, that means you passed the test.” Ezra grinned. “Knew I liked you. So, what’s your advice?”

Kanan started to speak, but a voice behind him cut him off. “Hey, Bridger! Trying to find someone to fence in your place so you don’t have to face me?”

Turning, Kanan spotted a teenager boy with black hair and an unpleasant smirk striding towards them. He was from the Imperial Academy, as was clear by his armband, and Kanan saw a scowl crossing Ezra’s face at his approach.

“Get lost, Oleg,” he told the boy.

“Oh, like your real parents did?” Oleg said, and Kanan’s eyebrows shot up. Who the kark does this kid think he is? Next to him, he felt Ezra tense up, his shoulders hunching slightly.

Then he straightened and said, “Yeah, well, at least my family chose to have me around. Which is more than I can say for yours.”

Kanan couldn’t hold back a snort, and Oleg’s gaze was turned to him. “Who’s this? Let me guess— someone finally realized that we shouldn’t let trash fence with us, and this is the garbageman?”

Ezra started to take a step forward, his fists balling up, and Kanan put a hand on his shoulder. “Easy,” he said. “Don’t let him rattle you. He just wants you ejected from the game, because he knows you’re a threat.”

Oleg opened his mouth to respond to that, but one of his team mates called his name, and he was forced to stalk away, calling over his shoulder, “Good luck out there— you’re gonna need it.”

“Charming kid,” Kanan said.

“Yeah, the way a pit full of snakes is charming,” Ezra muttered, scowling after him. “I’m sorry about what he said.”

“He’s a greasy-looking twerp. I won’t take it personally.” Kanan paused, and felt a smile crossing his face. “Can I show you a trick? To be used only for showing off and for if you end up going against him.”

“Sure,” Ezra said. “What is it?”

One brief lesson and a few minutes later, Kanan slipped back into his seat. Hera shot him a sideways glance. “That took a little longer than I expected.”

“Advice takes how long it takes,” Kanan said, giving her an innocent look.

“You do realize I have two kids? And that I can tell when I’m not being told the whole truth,” Hera said as the tournament started up again.

Unwrapping one of his candy bars, Kanan said, “Just a little advice on his footwork. And then one trick to be used only in case of emergency.”

“Should I be worried?”

“I’m gonna go with no,” Kanan said. “Trust me on this one.”

Hera looked dubious, but nodded. “Alright.”

The match moved onwards smoothly. Ezra turned out to be in fourth place— and sure enough, he was matched up against Oleg. This put him in fourth to last place, Kanan realized. For a kid who’s so bad at fencing, his attitude is pretty cocky.

A few matches happened before his— a blond kid that Hera identified as Ezra’s friend Luke, a red haired girl from the Imperials, and another girl, this one with white-blonde hair and a Scottish accent that he could hear from the stands as she taunted her opponent into defeat.

And then Ezra’s match came, and Kanan found himself paying closer attention. His earlier assessment had been right— the kid was good, although there were some details that could use some work. He was a little hasty, too quick to jump into the fight, and his footwork could have been better.

But one thing he didn’t rush was the move Kanan taught him. Halfway through the fight, Kanan saw Oleg— who, by his count, was losing badly— say something, sneering at Ezra. The boy didn’t flinch, just parried the next blow.

And then his next move was a quick flick of the wrist and a spin of the blade, and suddenly Oleg was yelping and scrambling backwards as his foil shot straight into the air.

It made it about halfway up to the ceiling before clattering back down onto the floor. At that point, Oleg was halfway across the gym and Ezra was grinning. Kanan felt a matching grin cross his face as Hera looked at him.

“Let me guess,” she said. “Your handiwork?”

“In my defense, I was hoping it would stick into the ceiling.”

“Bridger!” the referee barked. He was a tall man with dark blond hair, sideburns that outmatched even Zeb’s, and a crisp accent, and looked utterly unimpressed by Ezra’s move. “Stop fooling around!”

“Yes, sir,” Ezra called as one of the coaches nudged Oleg back to the match, handing him back his foil. His grin didn’t fade, though. And a few moves later, he’d won the match.

The rest of the competition only lasted about half an hour, and before long, Kanan was following Hera, Sabine, and Zeb to where they met Ezra outside the locker room. He was carrying a duffel bag full of equipment, and his already satisfied grin widened when he saw them.

“You were so right,” he told Kanan. “Did you hear Oleg squeal when his foil went flying? So worth getting chewed out by Kallus later.”

“Kallus did what?” Hera demanded. “Do I need to have words with that man again?”

“Or I could,” Zeb offered. “I’ve been wanting to punch his stupid face in.”

Shaking his head, Ezra said, “Nah, Leia yelled at him right back. It was pretty entertaining. Cal told me not to do it again, but he thought it was funny. Said it reminded him of a friend from back in the day.”

Hera looked at Kanan, who shrugged. “Like I said, I probably know him.”

“You’re nothing if not a troublemaker, aren’t you?” Hera said to him.

“It’s one of my many charms.”

“Uh-huh. I’m sure.”

Clearing her throat, Sabine said, “Not to interrupt this little love fest, but is Kanan coming to lunch with us?”

Ezra’s gaze immediately moved to Kanan. “Are you?”

Kanan hesitated, shooting a glance at Hera. “I don’t want to intrude—”

“You wouldn’t be,” Hera told him. “I— We’d love to have you, if you’re free.”

“In that case, how can I refuse?” Kanan said. “Where are we headed?”

As it turned out, they were heading to Pyloon’s Saloon, a diner in town that Kanan had seen, but never had the pleasure of going to. He followed Hera’s minivan over to the diner, parking a few spots over. Heading over to meet them, he caught Sabine’s eyes as she hopped out of the car. “Is the painting on the back your work?”

“It is,” she said.

“It’s good. I like your style.” As they headed for the door, Kanan asked, “Now, I can guess what most of it means— you take martial arts, and you’re into records?”

“Yup,” Sabine said, a pleased grin crossing her face.

“Nice. What’s the sign Ezra’s holding?”

Ezra let out a loud groan as Zeb laughed. Smirking, Sabine said, “Inside joke. You have to reach a level five friendship to learn it.”

“Guess I have some work to do,” Kanan said, grabbing the door handle and holding it open. As Hera passed, he leaned forward and asked, “Should I even bother asking you?”

“Oh, I’m sworn to secrecy,” she assured him. “You’ll just have to convince them.”

“Challenged accepted,” he joked, following her inside.

They settled into a booth together and ordered. It wasn’t long before their food came, and they filled the time easily— Ezra talking about his match, Zeb and Sabine teasing him or insulting his opponents. Hera played referee in a lighthearted fashion, and Kanan chimed in every now and then, too.

Mainly, he watched, and listened, and as lunch wound on, he realized he’d enjoyed himself more than he had in a long while.

It was Hera’s company, obviously— but it was more than that, too. It was the family she’d built for herself, and the warmth with which they’d chosen to accept him.

She’d been the one who captivated him, but the other three brought him an understanding of what this family was really like. And with it, he realized it was something he wanted to be a part of.

Eventually, their meal came to an end. Kanan managed to swipe the bill away from Hera before she could pay it, which resulted in a short argument that Hera eventually let go.

“I’ll have to pay next time,” she said as they headed for the door, the kids and Zeb already ahead of them.

“Will there be a next time?” Kanan asked. The words slipped out before he could help it, and he saw Hera hesitate, and internally cursed himself. The last thing he wanted to do was push her.

As he opened his mouth to say so, Ezra cut them off as he called, “Hey, Kanan! I think you should be my fencing coach, but Sabine and Zeb say I need to interview you for it. What do you think?”

Rolling his eyes, Kanan said, “How about this— you three look up Caleb Dume on YouTube. Consider what you find there my audition tape?”

“Is it going to be about you?” Sabine said dubiously. “My skip tracer didn’t say anything about you having a fake name.”

“Like I said, I go by my bio family’s name sometimes,” Kanan told her. “Only one way for you to find out, right?”

As Sabine whipped out her phone, Kanan turned back to Hera. “As we were saying. I don’t want to push you—”

“I know,” Hera said, tucking a stray lock of her hair behind her ear. Kanan pretended not to follow the motion with his eyes, not to wonder what it would feel like to run his fingers through the silky strands as she said, “And… I’d like to give this a try. I really would. But you have to understand— Ezra and Sabine come first. If something comes up during a date, or if I have to cancel—”

“Then you go,” Kanan said. “They’re your kids. You should prioritize them. I completely understand that, Hera.”

Hera stared at him, and let out a half laugh, shaking her head. “I… you keep surprising me.”

“Good,” Kanan said, grinning at her. “I’d never want to bore you.”

“You could never,” she said wryly. Pausing, she said, “Then, can I take you to dinner next weekend? On a real date, without the kids interrogating you?”

“Yes,” Kanan said immediately. “Absolutely.” Smiling, he said, “I already can’t wait.”

Hera’s responding smile sent a flutter through his chest that he fully welcomed. “Neither can I.”

“WAIT A SECOND,” Sabine exploded from a few feet away. “YOU WERE A PROFESSIONAL FENCER AS A KID? HOW DID MY SKIP TRACER MISS THAT?”

“Oh, yeah, I knew I was forgetting something,” Kanan mused. Glancing at Hera, he said, “That’s not a deal breaker, is it?”

“I think I’ll get past it somehow,” she assured him. “You’re dealing with the kids and Chopper, after all.”

“Right, the cat,” Kanan said. “Well, with the exception of Chopper— who I haven’t met— I’d say that I’m pretty happy with this package deal.”

“DUDE DID YOU JUST KILL THAT REFEREE?”

Lifting an eyebrow at Kanan, Hera said, “That may not last.”

Somehow, even as Sabine and Ezra bolted towards him, peppering him with questions, Kanan doubted that.

(And it was true, as the months slipped on, and another figure joined the little group painted on the back of Hera’s van. He was happy, and he was where he was meant to be.)

#thanks for the ask!!#kanera #kanera week #star wars rebels #swr #kanan jarrus #hera syndulla #zeb orrelios #sabine wren #ezra bridger #writing stories is a kind of magic too

15 notes · View notes

absolutewhore101 · 2 years

Text

My Hero

A/N: he's so pretty.

Pairing: Ashton Irwin x GN!Reader

Summary: ashton saves the day when a guy just won't take a hint

Warnings: bad ending, douchey guy

Word Count: ~1K

Minors DNI (no smut, just not comfortable with you interacting)!!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Parties were not your thing. They were loud, and had too many people. Drunk people, high people, annoyingly sober people. Too many people.

You weren’t sure how Ashton did it, but here you were, sitting in his car as he drove to Luke’s house for a party.

You were holding his hand in your lap, playing with his fingers, trying to calm down a bit. He squeezed your hand, letting you know that he was there, and you turned to face him, giving him a small smile.

He parked a little down the street behind a line of cars, and you could already see the amount of people that were walking towards Luke’s house.

Ashton pulled you along with him, talking about new music the boys were working on, trying to distract you.

He stopped a few feet away from the door, placing his hands on either side of your face as he looked into your eyes.

“I’m here, okay? If you need anything, if you want to leave, come find me. I’ll try to stay with you as much as I can, but I can’t promise I’ll be by your side the whole time. When you’re ready, just say the word, and we’ll leave.”

You nodded as you listened to him, mumbling a small ‘okay’ in response.

He wrapped his arm around your waist as he led you into the house, holding you into his side. You immediately spotted Calum and Michael, who began furiously waving at the two of you, prompting you in that direction.

You walked over, joining the small group. Ashton moved to be slightly more behind you, and leaned back into him, his hands on your hips. You were with the group for a few minutes before Crystal spotted you, grabbing you by the wrist, and dragging you away from them and into the kitchen.

“Well hello to you, too.” You said. She smiled at you, pouring herself another drink.

“Do you want anything? I know you don’t drink, but there’s a ton of other stuff in the fridge.” She told you, taking a sip of whatever was in her cup.

You walked over to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water, and turning back to Crystal. The two of you stood in the kitchen by yourselves for a few minutes catching up before people started to file in, desperate to get their hands on more alcohol.

Soon enough, you were in the middle of a crowd, unable to move in any direction. You tried your best to make an escape, but there were too many people in between you and the exit. You were stuck.

You took a deep breath, already annoyed at the lack of personal space. A hand landed on your lower back, and you turned around, expecting to see Ashton standing there.

Instead, there was a man you’d never seen before, smiling down at you. You’d think he was drunk if you couldn’t smell his breath, but you could only smell the mint of his gum.

“Hi.” He said to you, way too happy to be surrounded by this many people.

You gave him a confused look, responding with a short “Hi.”

You turned to face him fully, effectively removing his hand from your back.

“I’m Ray.” He said, holding his hand out to you. You looked down at it, not making a move to shake it, and looked back up at him.

“Okay?”

He looked at you for a few seconds before he dropped his arm back to his side.

“I’ve never seen you before. Who are you here with?”

“Ashton.” You answered, shifting your eyes back to the doorway, trying to determine if you could make it through the people.

“Irwin? Seriously?”

You nodded, lips drawn into a line, tension obvious in your body.

“Well, that’s…cool. Who are you leaving with?” He asked you, a gross smirk on his face.

You looked him directly in his eyes, deadpan face, as you answered.

“Ashton.”

His smirk faltered for a second before he brought it back.

“Want to leave with two people?” He asked you. If you weren’t surrounded by so many people, you would’ve smacked the look off his face.

“No.” A voice came from behind you, hand falling onto your lower back. You smiled at Ashton’s voice, immediately feeling comfortable again.

Ray looked up at him, giving him a dirty look before he answered.

“I didn’t ask you. I asked them.” He said.

“Well, I answered.” Ashton responded. You could feel the anger radiating off of him, and leaned back into his body as you listened to their conversation.

“Listen, mate, just get out of here, yeah? Don’t make this a bigger thing than it needs to be.”

Ray rolled his eyes, about to respond, when Luke walked into the room. He saw the look on Ashton’s face, and quickly made his way over. He gave you a questioning look, and you flicked your eyes over to Ray.

Luke nodded his head before he stepped between you and Ray, leading him out of the room.

You turned to face Ashton, seeing the look on his face.

“Let’s go get some fresh air, Ash.” You said, and he looked down at you, nodding his head.

You grabbed ahold of his hand, and led him to the backyard. You found a quiet corner for the two of you, ignoring the drunk people screaming around you.

“You ok?” He asked you.

You nodded. “Thank you.”

He smiled at you, obviously proud of the encounter.

You wrapped your arms around his waist as you looked up at him, a smile on your face.

“My hero.” You muttered. You watched the blush work its way onto his face, and stood up on your toes slightly to press your lips to his.

He leaned into the kiss, hands tightening on your hips briefly before he pulled back.

“I’ll always be your hero.” He said, leaning his forehead against yours.

“I know.”

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

Tell me your thoughts! Thank you for reading :)

#ashton irwin x reader #ashton irwin #5sos #5sos fanfic #5sos x reader #x reader #ashton irwin x y/n #ashton irwin fanfic #ashton irwin imagine

240 notes · View notes

glasvera · 2 years

Text

Even In Death

Vamp!Eddie Munson x Reader

!!MAJOR SEASON 4 SPOILERS!!

Description: It's been a week since it all happened. You'd been feeling drawn back to the memorial you'd made with Dustin, and far too many things had been left unsaid. However, your speech does not go unheard.

Warnings: Heavy angst in the beginning. Reader is heavily grieving.

A/N: It was only a matter of time before I jumped on the Vamp!Eddie train. I definitely wasn't expecting it to be in such an angsty fic though.

Word Count: 2212

Rain drummed rhythmically on the metal roof of your car as you gripped the wheel. It was fittingly drab and dreary; this was the first rain Hawkins had seen since the fight against Vecna a week ago, and the suffocating gray of the rain clouds intermingled seamlessly with the storm that seemed to be brewing over the interdimensional cracks left in the battle’s wake.

You really should have been preparing with the rest of the group--the threat was still there and it was very real--but you needed this. You’d felt a pull towards Eddie’s memorial that gnawed at you all morning. The thought of going back felt too raw, like salt on a wound, and you had hesitated, but when it had started to affect your concentration on literally anything else, you knew you needed this. Needed the extra closure.

So here you were, driving through the rain and feeling no more mentally present than the motion of your windshield wipers sliding back and forth across the glass.

The tires crunched over the dirt and gravel as you came to a stop. You slumped down in your seat, heaving a huge sigh in preparation of facing the memory of what happened. It felt like someone had your heart in a tight vice and you felt the sting of tears in your eyes as you swallowed hard and slipped on your rain jacket before exiting the car.

It wasn’t terribly late in the afternoon, but the cloudy skies darkened what little sunlight might have filtered through the trees, so you flipped on your flashlight and squelched through the mud as you made your way to the small clearing.

The memorial was nothing extravagant. It was a product of love and lost times, with polaroids taken of the Hellfire club, his collection of guitar picks, the dice set you’d gotten him a few years ago, and many other mementos gathered hastily by yourself and Dustin. You two had been rushed at the time, seeing as there was far too much to do to help the survivors at the shelter and plan your next move, so few words were exchanged.

You knelt down, picking up a twenty-sided die in your hand as you traced the grooves of the numbers with the pad of your index finger. The tears formed fully now, hot on your cheeks as they trailed through the raindrops on your skin.

“Eds,” you began, voice cracking slightly and barely above a whisper in comparison to the deafening rain, “I came back to see you.”

Your voice caught in your throat, a sob threatening to take its place. You gulped it down, knitting your brows together as you continued, “I’ve been trying so hard to keep going.” You shut your eyes for a moment, trying to cage the freely flowing tears. “Everyone else just moved right past it. It’s not that they’re acting like it never happened, it's just…” you trailed off, clutching the die in your palm as you shook your head.

“Dustin’s taken it the hardest, I think. He’s a tough kid, and we’ve been looking after each other,” you smiled softly as you continued, “but obviously, he didn’t exactly have the same relationship that we did. At least, I sure as hell hope you didn’t.” You chuckled, and swore it was almost like you could hear him laugh with you for a moment. “You’d be proud of him though. I know you would. Sometimes, it’s like I see a little part of you in him.” The corner of your mouth twitched in a smile, “There’s a little bit of Steve in there too, but I’d never give him the satisfaction of telling him that.”

The rain was softer now, still pitter-pattering on the soaked ground as the scent of petrichor began to fill your nostrils.

Your smile faded. “You deserved so much better,” you murmured, swallowing hard. “When you were with me, I felt invincible. It felt like nothing in the world could stop us,” you reflected with a sigh. “Even when this mess started, and we were on the run, I always felt like we could do it. I always felt like everything would be okay.” You wiped your nose on the sleeve of your coat, wincing when you realized it was just as soaked as the rest of you.

“Now,” you started again, “it feels like I’m living in a trance. I barely feel like my own person,” you whispered, eyes downcast as you admitted it both to him and yourself. “There are times where I can barely function. Like a weight is holding me down, pinning me to my grief. I’ve tried distracting myself by helping around town, but even then…”

“It’s so hard to help them while they still blame you. I’ve tried convincing people that it couldn’t have been you, to look at the ground and explain how you could have done this,” you vented, voice exasperated, “but I guess I’ve become something of a pariah myself for being with you.” You shook your head quickly, “Not that I care! I… I wouldn’t trade the time we had for anything,” you reassured, feeling a fresh pang of emptiness in your chest mix with the overbearing ache of your heart.

“I would give so much to have you back, even if just for a moment,” you lamented. “To feel your skin on mine, to hear the sound of your voice.” You allowed yourself a chuckle, “I’d give anything to hear you play guitar like that again. That was the most metal thing you’ve ever done.” The corner of your mouth lifted slightly, your lip still trembling from crying. “Even when we were just friends, you always knew how to make me laugh. You were always there for me when I couldn’t go back home, or when some stupid guy rejected me.” You rolled your eyes at yourself with a chortle.

You were lost in your thoughts, but for the first time in days they were good thoughts. “Do you remember the day we first met?” you asked into the air as your gaze turned skyward, “It was the first day of eighth grade. I was new, and utterly lost,” you laughed at yourself. “You found me in the hallway, and I was nearly crying from frustration. You took me under your wing immediately and accepted me into your group.” You paused, feeling the tears well up again. “It was the first time I’d ever truly felt accepted. And…” You sighed. “I think that was the day I fell in love with you. I know, I know, it took me long enough to say it, but I didn’t know it at the time.”

The rain had all but stopped, skies still gray but far more silent than it had been minutes before. You stood up, brushing off the leaves and twigs that had stuck to your jeans. You inhaled deeply, eyes glued on a picture of the two of you together after Corroded Coffin’s first gig at the bar.

“I love you, Eddie. I love you so fucking much. You knew how to make people feel truly special.”

You brought the die to your lips and gave the 20 a kiss before replacing it on the box. “I just wish you were here,” you whispered softly. You stood there silently, unable to quite steal yourself away from that spot. “What I’d give to see that handsome face again,” you sighed as you chuckled sadly.

A minute passed when you heard the sudden whoosh of leaves as a strong wind blew behind you. For a split second you were ready to dismiss it as some freakishly strong breeze, but you swore you saw dark black particles follow it out of the corner of your eye. Your stomach dropped; those particles looked far too familiar. Regret welled in your mind and you felt incredibly stupid for having come here alone. All of your muscles were tensed and you readied yourself for an attack, fingernails digging into your palms as you clenched your hands into fists.

A deep chuckle resounded behind you, echoing ethereally off of the surrounding forest. Your breath hitched in your throat at the sound--that definitely wasn’t your imagination, or if it was, it meant you were truly far gone--and your eyes darted around at the trees as you tried to stay still. You swore you felt a presence behind you and you let out a soft whimper, shutting your eyes and preparing for the worst.

That is, until you were startled by the feeling of a hand coming to rest on your shoulder. You were still frozen in place, too scared to turn around and see who it belonged to.

“Good thing flattery works with me.”

Your eyes flashed open, tears threatening to form again as the familiar voice hit your ears. You whipped around and the black mist and particles coalesced until he stood right in front of you, looking just the same as he had a week ago.

“Ed… Eddie?” you whispered in disbelief. Your hands were on him in an instant, cupping his face and gripping at his tattered jacket and Hellfire shirt, looking for any sign that this was real. His skin was oddly cold, as if he’d been standing in the rain for far too long. He snickered as your trembling hands continued, and you turned your gaze to his face, looking him in the eyes.

You pulled him down to you, crashing your lips into his own as he grunted out in surprise, grabbing you fervently by the waist as his hand snaked around your neck and he kissed you passionately. Tears ran down your face again as you reveled in the feeling of his soft lips pressed against you, and you clung to him desperately as if he would dissipate into mist again if you let go.

You finally pulled away, gasping for air as you held his head in your hands and brushed his cheek with your thumb.

“Nice to see you too,” he quipped, smiling softly and running his hand through your hair.

“How--?” You shook your head and blinked your eyes several times as if you were clearing your vision.

He held you to him, arms wrapped around you as he laughed. “It’s a pretty cool story,” he replied. “Very metal.”

You curled an eyebrow at him as he grinned down at you, and that’s when you saw it. “Eddie, are those fangs?”

His grin grew wider. “Like I said, very metal.”

A mortified expression overtook your features, “Oh my god… we left you in there. I… we thought you were dead. If I had known, I-”

He placed a finger on your lips with a “shh”, and shook his head. “You’re safe, right?”

Hesitantly, you nodded.

“And Dustin?” he asked, watching as you nodded again with more vigor. “So, my plan worked. And, for the record, you weren’t wrong.” He paused for a moment, his face turning more serious. “I did die.”

You looked at him in confusion, furrowing your brow as you tried to process what he was saying.

“It was so dark,” he began, and you felt his fingers grip you tighter, “suddenly it was like… like my blood turned to ice. Like this flash of cold coursing through me.” Eddie visibly shivered as he recounted the memory. “When I woke up, I was alone. I… I was scared.” He stared into your eyes, “All I could think about was you. Being with you again…” he trailed off, cocking his head to the side.

“I needed to see you. And the stronger that feeling got…” he stretched his arm out, and you watched as it began to fade into black particles and mist before reforming again. “It was terrifying at first. I couldn’t fully control it. I was stuck as this weird shit for days just wandering around trying to reform myself and find you.”

He brought his hand back to caress your cheek. “And then I heard your voice.” He chuckled, “I heard all those nice things you said about me.”

“I’d say you weren’t supposed to hear that, but well…” You snorted, leaning into his touch as you looked up at him through your lashes. “You… you’re real though, right?”

He dipped his head down with a laugh. “As real as I’ve ever been, sweetheart.”

You glanced warily at the recent additions to his smile. “And you’re not gonna bite me or anything?”

He chuckled, the rumble in his chest warming your heart. “No more than I would have already.”

You rolled your eyes and giggled, burying your face into his chest. You breathed in the scent of him, of his lingering cheap cologne and the metallic tang of dried blood clinging to his clothes, and hugged him tighter.

You held each other in silence for a long moment as the rain had stopped completely, giving way to the beginnings of birdsong and chirping crickets. You never wanted to let go.

“Please… don’t ever leave me again,” you begged, and his heart melted as you whimpered into his shirt.

He inhaled deeply, eyes squeezing shut for a moment as he kissed the top of your head. “I’m not going anywhere, baby.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #stranger things x reader #vampire eddie munson #vamp!eddie #stranger things season 4 #stranger things spoilers #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fic #glasvera writes #glasvera ridiculously pines over fictional character no 345

126 notes · View notes

thetomorrowshow · 2 years

Text

poisoned rats in a pot of grain - ch. 11

Masterlist - Previous - Next

i'm stan and i was wrong

ok so i KNOW i said that last chapter would be the penultimate one but alas. here we are at ch 11/12. I SWEAR NEXT ONE WILL BE THE LAST ONE IF NOT YOU CAN HUNT ME FOR SPORT

cw: food, flashbacks, panic attacks, injury

Jimmy’s not sure what to think when he’s sitting in Major’s car once again, this time without a mask (and Major took his off as well as soon as they got into the car, pulling his hair up into a beanie to hide the blue, but Jimmy tries not to stare too much). It’s been over a year, he realizes, since they were last in these places.

Like last time, the clothes he wears aren’t his—but at this point, they might as well be. An oversized grey hoodie with the drawstrings removed. Blue sweatpants. Socks with the little grippies. A trash bag of similar clothing is in the backseat.

When he met with Major three days ago, he hadn’t expected this. He’d expected yelling, a jail cell with his name on it, thirty-to-life in prison.

Not a home. And a . . . a friend? Can he call Major a friend?

His head hurts. He’ll take a headache any day over that early, sluggish phase of his anxiety medication, though. The phase had left him feeling disconnected from his body, as if he was merely an observer from above. He didn’t like that. At least he can fully process everything going on right now.

Major turns on the radio and Jimmy practically jumps out of his skin when some country-pop song starts blaring from the speakers. Major turns it down with a muttered apology, then the car jolts back and they’re moving.

Jimmy runs his hands along the seatbelt, grounding himself bit by bit. The car starting to move had felt a little too much like a van pulling out of a garage, but not so similar that Jimmy felt anything more than a deep sense of dread. He breathes in, holds it for a moment, then lets it out. He’s safe. He’s with Major, and Major took care of him that one time so long ago when he’d tried to escape and had been such a bad pet—

In. Hold. Out. He’s safe. His fingers tap along the seatbelt. In his lap is a nice, new journal, and a pack of unopened markers. Josh had given them to him this morning after their last session. If his thoughts get too loud, he can crack open the journal and put some of them out of his head.

Major might think he’s weird. Barely ten minutes out of the mental hospital, and he already can’t handle himself. But Josh would tell him he’s had a very traumatic past year (and life), and that it’s okay to use coping mechanisms in public.

“Still want to stop at McDonald’s?” Major asks over the low music, and Jimmy can’t help that his eyes jump to his face.

Not that Jimmy’s seen very many unmasked heroes, but those he has seen he’s always been slightly disappointed with. Major is entirely different. Major is. . . .

Well.

Without even looking in the side mirror, Jimmy knows he’s turning a bit red. He hasn’t had any viable romantic candidates in a year, who can blame him? Major’s pretty, that’s it. It’s just—it’s a natural reaction to get flustered in the presence of a hot person. It doesn’t mean anything.

“I was gonna stop and get myself a chicken sandwich anyway, so it’s not like it’s out of the way. Anything you’ve been craving?”

He’s not sure how he can repay Major. His apartment and all of his belongings are likely gone, along with his money. But Major’s offering, and it seems safe to accept. . . .

He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. He wants to tell Major that just a hamburger is fine, that he is hungry, that he’s been craving fast food, but he can’t. He stares determinedly at the dashboard, willing his voice to work. His entire body is run through with tension, waiting . . . waiting for some undefinable other shoe to drop.

He hates it.

Major doesn’t seem bothered by his lack of response, just whistles a little to himself as he pulls into a McDonald’s drivethru. He grimaces at the line. It’s early afternoon, Jimmy realizes with a glance at the clock display. Lunch rush.

Lunch rushes are things. He forgot about that. There’s so many cars and people here. Jimmy shifts uncomfortably, slumps down a bit in his seat. That’s a lot of people seeing his face. He doesn’t like that. He really doesn’t like that. And he’s in the passenger seat, which means that he’s on the outside of the drivethru line and the front windows of a car are never tinted as darkly as the back ones and just anyone could look in and see him—

What can you do to fix this? Josh seems to ask in his head. What’s a simple thing that will help calm you down?

He can cover his face. His shirt? It’ll look a little silly, but not too bad. He glances over at Major, sees him idly looking out the window while tapping his hands on the steering wheel. Jimmy pulls the collar of his hoodie up until it covers his nose, hoping to quell the jitters in his stomach.

It helps tremendously and he lets out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. Major does happen to look over, but he doesn’t comment on it.

“I’ll order me a chicken sandwich, and you a burger, and both of us fries. Sound good?”

That’s . . . oddly considerate, isn’t it? Jimmy nods, looks over to meet Major’s eyes, sending him what he hopes is a sufficient smile with his mouth covered. Major apparently understands and smiles back.

“Right. That’ll come with ketchup, onions, and pickles, I think. Is that all good?”

It sounds fine, so Jimmy nods again, and soon enough there’s a burger and fries in his lap and a cup of water in his hand and he’s not entirely sure where to put it or whether he can eat in Major’s car. Major has pulled back onto the road, his own sandwich unwrapped and held in one hand, so Jimmy assumes it’s okay and sets the water between his knees before unwrapping his burger.

“My name’s Scott, by the way,” Major says between bites, and Jimmy, burger halfway to his mouth, freezes. Does Major expect him to say his own name, now? Because words aren’t exactly his strong suit right now.

As if he can read Jimmy’s mind, Major continues, “And I know that at the hospital, they were calling you TJ for some reason? But I . . . I know your real name, I think. Do you want me to call you your real name?”

He’s not sure why Major—or, Scott—would know his real name, but after taking stock of himself, he realizes that he actually wouldn’t mind being Jimmy. No secret identities, nothing misconstrued about his role. Just Jimmy.

It’s dangerous, he knows. But his name is his and his to give out where he wants to, and he wants to be called his name for once. Before his nerves can get the better of him, he nods.

Scott’s smiling a little when he speaks. “Okay. Hi, Jimmy. It’s nice to properly meet you.”

Jimmy makes it about thirty minutes in Major’s house before having a panic attack.

Josh had told him that even with his medication, the sudden change of environments would probably trigger emotional distress. So Jimmy’s sort of expecting something to go down—and down it goes, while he’s sitting in the middle of a bedroom that is so familiar it almost hurts to look at. It’s the same room he’d woken in that one time so long ago. He hadn’t thought he would remember it very well. Now that he’s here, though, he remembers everything about it, down to the color of the carpet, and it’s far too much to cope with.

His clothes are still in the trash bag, his new journal on the bed. There’s a desk in the corner, chair pushed up into it. He’s not sure what to do with that. One side of the room has both a closet and a set of drawers, which is somehow both thoughtful and utterly overwhelming because Jimmy only has three shirts and two pairs of sweatpants, one of which is reserved for sleep.

But what really sends him spiraling is the brand new phone in his hand, already unlocked and set up with Major—labeled Scott—as the only contact.

He doesn’t know what to do. There’s an app on the phone that leads to the internet, and Jimmy hasn’t been connected to this form of the outside world in months.

There’s a new phone in his hand. There’s a charging cable already plugged into the wall.

There’s an outlet in the wall that’s never going to blow out when he plugs his phone in. A phone that won’t spontaneously catch fire. A messaging app that won’t glitch out and send highly inappropriate texts to his contacts.

His tears aren’t of joy, like he’d expected. He’s not happy. He cries because everything is wrong, everything’s changed and it’s so very hard to cope with change after days—after years—of maintaining a routine.

So once Jimmy’s done hyperventilating over all the things that are new, once he’s done bawling about how nothing makes sense, he curls up in the corner of the room against the bedframe and stares at the wall until Major—Scott—calls his name. Then he rises, shoves the phone into his hoodie pocket, and leaves to join the superhero for dinner.

Scott really wants Jimmy to leave his room more often, and he’s not even subtle about it.

And sure, maybe lying on the floor staring at the wall for hours at a time isn’t the best thing, especially when he occasionally misses his medication because of just how deep he’s sunken into that mindset. Scott had laid down a ground rule of eating at least one meal a day together, and some days that’s the only time Jimmy can manage to drag himself up to face the world outside his bedroom.

It’s not that he’s not eating—he’s certainly not very good at eating, but whenever he has the strength to to slip out of his room and fix himself some lunch or breakfast, he grabs a couple of non-perishables and stocks them away in the set of drawers. If Major notices, he doesn’t say anything. And when Jimmy’s stuck in the recesses of his own mind, he’s always got a sleeve of crackers or a can of soup to keep his strength up. It’s certainly more than he’d eaten before.

About two weeks in, he has his first therapy session with Nora, who is a very nice woman but frowns when he mentions that staying in his room just feels safer. He knows what’s going to happen while he’s there. He knows that everything there, while new and disconcerting, is more familiar than anywhere else (including this downtown office, so far away, with the stiff sofa and the sequined pillows) and therefore more tolerable.

He doesn’t mention that while he’s in his room, his mind slips into a deadened state where all he can do is stare at the wall and hope that no one will come to hurt him.

He does mention that every time Scott knocks on the door, he immediately shoots to his knees and bows his head, months of conditioning refusing to relinquish its grasp.

Nora suggests two things: one, leave the room more often. Spend time in other parts of the house, engage in leaving the house maybe once a week. Jimmy doesn’t like that suggestion at all—it sounds terrifying and like a recipe for disaster.

Her second suggestion is to leave the door to his bedroom open, and really, why hadn’t Jimmy thought of that?

It makes perfect sense. He can’t be taken by surprise when Major knocks if there’s no need to knock. So even though it’s nerve-wracking and possibly one of the hardest things he’s ever done (anyone could see him, anyone could come in and hurt him), Jimmy starts leaving the door wide open.

And then he’s embarrassed about the way he occupies himself in his room, so he starts holding on to his phone while he stares at the wall, a video pulled up and ready to play in case Scott passes the doorway.

And then he just starts actually watching the video pulled up.

He still doesn’t have a reason to regularly leave the room, but he starts watching a long series of videos purely by accident and ends up getting sucked into the series, taking more and more time out of his staring-at-the-wall time and redistributing it to other things. It’s almost like just engaging with the content of the series gives him energy to do more.

And by some happenstance, Scott mentions that he has a home gym over dinner one night.

Jimmy’s never been able to properly work out. He used to go running, and he picked up more than a few hand-to-hand fight tricks in his time both as a hero and a villain, but an actual gym he’d deemed too dangerous for his spontaneous volatility. And suddenly, with his powers no longer as random as they had once been, he has the freedom to do whatever he wants. Somehow, he hadn’t already put that together.

It’s a little overwhelming, if he’s honest. When he mentions it in passing to Scott (as casually as he can, though he spent days building up to it and he’s inwardly shaking in terror), Scott only looks sad for a moment before offering to start small—use the home gym for as much physical activity as he’s cleared for, try to spend more time out of his room each week. It’s just like what Nora recommended, and while Scott isn't a certified counselor, he is probably the smartest person Jimmy knows.

He’s also the kindest person Jimmy knows—he doesn’t know too many people, to be fair (his social circle consists of his conservator and his therapist and that’s it), but that doesn’t mean that Scott isn’t the first person to seem to genuinely like him in . . . well, forever. Jimmy knows, after several weeks of nothing but patience and encouragement and reassurances that there isn’t another shoe about to drop, that Scott only has his best interests in mind. He trusts him on this.

So he starts working out. He starts joining Scott for movie nights. He starts helping out with chores here and there, and that’s perhaps the most surprising thing—Jimmy finds he likes doing chores. He feels like he’s actually helping out, repaying Scott’s hospitality in little ways—and it reminds him of the time Before, when he and Lizzie would clean the bathroom together or switch out the laundry. It ain’t much, but it’s honest work, and he hasn’t had the opportunity to do anything like it in years.

He has panic attacks, of course. He has flashbacks. One morning he lies in bed, too terrified to move because he’s back on that table and faceless scientists are operating on him and Xornoth has a gloved hand in his hair.

He can feel Scott’s touch on his arm, he can hear what he’s saying, but all he can do is whimper when Xornoth demands, “Eyes on me, little bird.”

“Jimmy, can you look at me?”

He can’t, he really can’t, because Xornoth just told him where to look and he can’t disobey his master’s orders.

Scott’s thumb is making circles on his wrist, and Scott himself is saying things like “Wake up, please” and “It’s just a nightmare, you’re okay, you’re safe”.

Scott’s never lied to him before.

So despite the threat of Xornoth right in front of him, the next time Scott asks Jimmy to look at him, Jimmy opens his eyes and sees Scott and not Xornoth.

And though he can still feel the IV in his arm, the touch of too many rubber gloves and a too-familiar hand carding through his hair, Jimmy knows it’s not real.

Scott holds out his hand, and with a herculean effort, Jimmy takes it.

Scott smiles, and it’s enough to break the flashback’s hold completely.

Jimmy, haltingly, smiles back.

It’s after that flashback that Jimmy knows he can trust Scott. That had been one he wouldn’t have been able to break out of by himself, one that would have swallowed his voice for days. Scott had interrupted it before it had really ascertained its hold on him.

Sure, he’d trusted Scott before. He’s trusted Scott for a long time—ever since he first put his life into Scott’s hands. But this is different. It’s like an entirely different type of trust, because Jimmy now trusts Scott as not just a caretaker, but as . . . as a friend.

He knows for certain now that Scott isn’t taking care of him out of some moral obligation. Scott genuinely cares about him. He’d suspected, of course, but he hadn’t been able to know for sure.

Jimmy finds himself shy for the rest of the day, avoiding eye contact and speaking nary a word. The dynamic has changed, somehow, and he’s pretty sure it’s in a good way.

Even good change, however, is change, and he’s exhausted and anxious about anything that might go wrong. He goes to bed early, finds comfort in the security of laying on the floor and staring at the wall until he drifts off.

Jimmy ventures out into the world again for the first time five weeks into his stay with Scott.

It’s not a long trip, nor a dangerous one, but Scott drives him down to a city park and they walk together, Jimmy with a medical-style face mask on and Scott with his bright blue hair tucked into a beanie.

They bring vegetable peelings and scraps to throw at ducks—which is confusing to Jimmy, but Scott had said something about bread being unhealthy for them which is whatever—and on a bridge, over the duck pond, they talk.

Scott starts. Scott talks about college, about his friends, about how he became a superhero—and with that, his misadventures in dating.

“Wait, you dated a villain?” Jimmy asks incredulously. “And you almost joined him?”

“I was a stupid college kid,” Scott defends, though he’s laughing. “I made dumb choices back then.”

“Oh, and you never make any these days.”

“Exactly,” Scott declares pompously. “I’m known for my impeccable decision-making skills.”

Jimmy chucks a potato peel into the water, watches the ducks and turtles fight over it. “Was it a good decision when you let me into your house last year?”

Scott goes silent, looks down. “Yeah,” he says after a moment, fiddling with the railing. “One of my best ones.”

Jimmy blushes. Not quite what he’d been expecting, but he’s not going to say no to a bit of a confidence boost. “Really?” he asks quietly.

Scott doesn’t answer, though. “Was that really where you lived?” he changes the subject. “Where I dropped you off that one time? Because . . . well, after you went missing . . . again . . . I—I kind of went looking for you. And the landlord of the building I dropped you off at didn’t recognize the description I gave.”

“Oh, no. I had you drop me off a few streets away, I think,” Jimmy replies, casting his mind back. A lot of his memories from then—the brief period between captivities—are fairly blurred and unstable. “But yeah. I lived in that neighborhood. Nothing special, I know.”

It hadn’t been anything special. It never had been, not as long as he’d lived on his own.

“I sort of thought you had a decent bit of money,” admits Scott, tossing a scrap to the ducks. “I mean, you were always robbing banks and rich citizens.”

Jimmy scoffs. “Okay, firstly, I have zero credit score. There was no way I could get anywhere nicer than the shadiest of apartments without getting arrested for having suspicious amounts of physical money. Secondly, I lost a lot of that money. And third of all, most of the time stealing from actual people was an accident—I usually just shoplifted from Walmart or whatever.”

It’s quiet between them, then, and Jimmy stares out over the pond, sees turtles lined up on a log a little ways out. He turns to ask Scott if he thinks he can throw far enough to get food to those turtles, only to find Scott staring at him, slackjawed.

“Wh-what is it?” Jimmy asks nervously. Scott blinks several times, straightens.

“I—lost how? And what do you mean, stealing on accident? That was—that was an insane amount of money that you took, what happened to it all?”

Before Jimmy can answer, Scott continues. “Lost, like—like you blew it all at a casino? Or—”

“Gosh, no!” Jimmy bursts out incredulously. “Me? In a casino? Are you joking?”

Scott has the decency to look embarrassed, at least, the tips of his ears turning pink. “I—all right, then, how?”

“I . . . I just lost it.” Jimmy shrugs, flicks a piece of carrot into the water. “Depends, really. Once on the pier my wallet fell out of my pocket and rolled into the ocean, where a fish swallowed it. Once I dropped it all down a drain. One time a roll of bills caught fire in my hands.”

“No way.”

Jimmy rubs the back of his neck, fingers rolling over the scar there. “Yeah. It never worked out for me. I think I mostly just kept doing it because . . . I guess I wanted someone to stop me.”

Scott doesn’t respond for a long while. When he does, his voice is quiet. “I’m sorry. I should’ve noticed.”

“That wasn’t your responsibility. We were enemies, Scott.”

They stand there in silence a minute more, then Scott hands Jimmy what’s left of the bag of scraps, and Jimmy upends it, shaking about half a bag’s worth of vegetable peelings into the water. Ignoring the frenzy below, he and Scott set off for home—which Jimmy is privately grateful for. He didn’t want to say anything, but he’s been growing more and more anxious that even with the medical mask, someone would recognize him.

“So,” Scott says once they’re back on the proper trail, heading in the direction of the parking lot. “Stealing from rich people on accident?”

Jimmy groans, but he’s smiling. He really, really likes this. He likes the way Scott talks to him, like an equal, not like something delicate that could break at any moment. He likes the way he teases. He likes hanging out with him.

“Look, what you have to understand first is that most of the time, I had no clue what I was doing, I was just trying to not hurt anyone. Got that?”

“You disabled the alarms on Joey Graceffa’s house before sneaking in, Jimmy. We have camera footage of it. You’re telling me that was an accident?”

“Entirely.”

Scott had asked him, back in his first week here, when he would be feeling up to meeting with Lizzie.

Apparently that day is today, around two months into his stay at Scott’s house. He’s anxious—too anxious to be in his room all morning, instead sitting around in the kitchen or the living room and just generally getting in Scott’s way. The man has become his main source of comfort and is probably the only person he truly trusts in the world—even Nora doesn’t see him at his worst, those moments only for Scott.

Scott had taken the day off without even asking Jimmy if he wanted that, which warms his heart every time he remembers it. Scott curls up on the couch and puts on a commentary video to watch, which Jimmy can’t help but become absorbed in. He doesn’t even know the movie the commentator is reviewing, but it seems terrible and the commentator is witty. It doesn’t put his anxiety to rest, but he manages to become distracted right up until Scott checks his phone and lets him know that Lizzie is on her way.

Then he runs, bolting from the couch to his room in a matter of seconds. He hides behind his bed, trying to breathe. In, hold, out. His hands are shaking. His entire body is shaking. This isn’t good. He doesn’t feel good.

Long minutes pass. His ribs hurt. His ribs burn. One of them is broken, it’s surely broken, it was kicked in and snapped he can feel it—

His scrabbling hands pull up his new blue sweater (he’d tried to dress nice for seeing his sister again) and he prods at his side. Nothing. It’s normal.

Flashback. Okay. He’s fine. Somehow, over his panicked not-breathing, he hears the front door open. That was—okay. Perfect. He loves that for himself. He’d expected maybe twenty minutes of time to calm himself in his room, maybe longer, but apparently his bad luck was still in effect even when it literally couldn’t be.

Another few minutes before there’s a soft knock on his door.

“Jimmy? Can I come in?”

Jimmy can’t quite make his voice work (please not today, not when he actually has to talk), so he shifts around until he can extract his phone from his back pocket and texts Scott an answer in the affirmative.

A moment later, his door creaks open. “Jimmy? Are you—hey, there.”

Jimmy looks up through watery eyes (when did he start crying?) to see Scott kneeling beside him. Scott doesn’t say anything at first, just settles in against the bed and holds out a hand.

Jimmy takes it.

Despite himself, he feels his heart jump.

Scott sits there with him for a few moments, then says quietly, “It’s okay if you can’t meet with her today. Do you want me to tell her to come by a different time?”

And Jimmy feels a wave of gratitude and affection for Scott utterly overwhelm him, because in the past decade, nobody has ever shown this level of kindness toward him. Few people have seen him as anything good or deserving of love, and here Scott is, holding his hand and offering to change everything out of nothing but the kindness of his heart.

Just knowing that Scott is here, and that Scott is Scott, Jimmy feels okay with what he has to do. Not great, but at least capable.

After all, how bad can it be compared to living as a pet for literal months, abused at every turn to the point of barely even knowing his own name? Talking to his long-lost sister about how he killed their loving parents is going to be a walk in the park.

“My life sucks,” Jimmy realizes aloud. He lets out a bark of laughter. “Gosh, it really just has sucked, hasn’t it?”

“I . . . Jimmy, I’m. . . .”

“It’s fine. Really,” Jimmy adds, when Scott raises a brow. “I just can’t think of anything good that’s happened to me in the past decade, up until—” he cuts himself off, heat spreading to his cheeks. “Anyways. Don’t—don’t send Lizzie away. I can talk to her. I just . . . freaked out.”

With Scott’s help he stands, and with Scott’s hand still in his he finds the strength to walk (his bad hip twinges, but he’s not sure if it’s actually acting up or if the pain lingers from the brief flashback) into the nice living room.

Lizzie’s sitting there. Maskless. Street clothes.

Her fingers tap-tap-tap against her knee. Jimmy knows that feeling. That anxiety, but nowhere to run. Holding it in because there’s no other option. Staying quiet and complacent because if your master thinks for even a second that you’re moving without permission, they’ll punish you terribly and brutally.

He’s working on that.

Lizzie looks up when he enters, smiles cautiously.

Jimmy doesn’t think he can be blamed when all of his words of apology die in his throat and all he can think about is how much he missed her.

Something tips her off. He’s not sure what. But she stands, spreads her arms, asks the question quietly.

“Is it all right if I hug you?”

Jimmy throws himself into his sister’s arms and sobs.

Jimmy’s been living in Scott’s house for nine weeks and two days (not that he’s counting) when the man hugs him.

It’s a shock, one that sends him reeling and grasping for any reference on how to work with this. He hasn’t been hugged since . . . he hasn’t been hugged . . . in years, probably, because even before everything he’d been a fairly solitary individual. He doesn’t think he’s been hugged on a regular basis since childhood.

If Scott is a hugger, that’s probably going to change relatively shortly.

Scott pulls away quickly, likely put off by the way Jimmy freezes (because of course he can’t respond to things like a normal person, he’s a pet he acts like a pet), and holds him at arm’s length, face cycling through all sorts of feelings.

“Sorry, I really—I should’ve asked, we ought to make a list of—”

Jimmy gently deattaches his arms from Scott’s loose grip, then tries for a hug of his own. It’s awkward, and stiff, and he thinks he put his arms in the wrong place but Scott—

Scott doesn’t mind, just gasps slightly and relaxes into Jimmy’s hold, hums softly. And even though he knows he’s doing it wrong, he can’t help but feel this is unequivocally right.

Uh-oh.

Very suddenly, Jimmy’s life is shifting from a depressing series of torturous events to a romcom. Because out of nowhere, he has a crush on—on Major.

It’s so sudden that his vision seems to tilt, from this way to that, in a dizzying sequence that leaves him feeling rather ill. He barely has to wonder why Scott’s become an object of his attraction. It’s barely been more than two months and he’s already done a million incredible things.

Three days in, he’d gone over Jimmy’s medications with him and asked about allergies and favorite foods and the like, obviously trying to make Jimmy’s time here as pleasant as possible.

Whenever Jimmy expresses that he likes a food, Scott writes it down. There’s now a list in Scott’s list notebook (he makes lists so often that’s all Jimmy can think to refer to it as) with all of Jimmy’s favorite meals.

Jimmy had mentioned offhand that he went to a trampoline park once as a kid and had missed it ever since, and Scott had gone out of his way to look one up and offer to go, eyes bright.

Scott leaves the doors open ever since he noticed Jimmy doing it.

He never complains about Jimmy’s frequent panic attacks.

He’s seen Jimmy at his lowest, and continues to care about him.

Not to mention, his cyan hair is gelled up into the loveliest little curls, his eyes are a prettier blue than the noon sky, the dimple in his left cheek is placed just perfectly to offset his brilliant smile. His arms are strong and chiseled, as Jimmy’s noticed on one or two sleeveless occasions, and the one time he’d seen Scott with just a towel wrapped around his waist his mouth had actually gone dry.

How had he not noticed before now? It’s fairly obvious, in hindsight.

“We should make a list of what physical touch we’re okay with,” Scott tells him as he pulls away, and Jimmy only closes his mouth and nods and tries furiously not to blush.

He can’t have a romantic relationship right now. He’s not even interested in one. He’s trying his best every day to remember that he can even be a human, let alone a boyfriend.

He shouldn’t. But gods above, he wants to try.

78 notes · View notes