#i wanted to say something because this crap is really making my eye twitch

[scoopsgf]

been seeing a lot of questionable takes on my dash lately, like “mitchum was right to tell rory she didn’t have it” and “rory writing a book about her life is stupid” and I’m just… stunned by them. not only are they flat out wrong, but both of them pointedly insult rory and her capability to perform as an adequate journalist and storyteller. we know rory has it because it’s established throughout the entire series—she does great at the franklin and even manages to put spins on what should be crap stories like the pavement piece; she also rises to the top at the YDN and becomes editor in chief. not only is she great when it comes to writing (which is drilled into the viewer and over—it’s an indisputable, canonical fact), but she’s also great under pressure and defying expectations. when she went to chilton the odds were against her—it was predicted that she wouldn’t be able to catch up and would flunk out. and what did she do instead? she became valedictorian and went on to attend an ivy league university. mitchum’s critique of rory is fucking laughable when you consider all of that, but it’s even more ridiculous when you factor in that he was barely around throughout her stint interning for him, and decided that she “didn’t have it” simply because she didn’t speak up during one meeting, even though doing so would usually be considered incredibly disrespectful. rory has amazing ideas and she’s fantastic at executing them, and we know she was a successful journalist until richard’s death, which is the only reason she was in a rut at all. therefore the idea that she “doesn’t have it” is, again, canonically incorrect.

as for the other thing, rory writing a book about her life is the opposite of stupid. to the people who agree with this: you do realize you just watched an entire show about her life and found it entertaining, right? it’s a memoir about her childhood, her relationship with her mother, and how being the daughter of a teen mother affected her. there’s absolutely a market for that sort of thing. not only that, but this is rory we’re talking about: she’s perfectly capable of translating the magic we see on screen onto the page. in fact, i think it’s kind of implied that the book will play out similarly to the show and have the same kind of vibe—it sucks you in and keeps you coming back for more. anyway, tl;dr, all the rory bashing and complete lack of faith in her ability to be a good journalist is pretty unfounded and unfair. i feel like it’s just another outlet that people are using to put her down, but it has no basis in fact (like most anti-rory takes).

[hannie-dul-set]

PATIENCE, PATIENCE.

p — SIM JAEYUN x gn! reader. g — humor, fluff. w — swearing, making out, secondhand embarrassment aka the hannie-dul-set fic triumvirate + a good amount of public indecency. 1.5k words.

requested by — anon: cocky jock (who loses that cockiness around you) x reserved student librarian (who loses that cool because of him).

note — loosely inspired by a moment from the manhwa "unstoppable hayoung" ifykyk. in a prev fic i alluded beomgyu to a mosquito, in this one jake to a pest. i think i'm seeing a pattern here.

a pest has been following you for quite some time now.

“sim jaeyun.”

his name falls icy off your tongue, prefacing it with a sharp inhale yet the man in question is unfazed. he’s trespassing the barrier that’s preventing you from socking him in the face: the front desk of the library where he’s decided to prop his arms over, leaning into the surface, smiling oh-so-handsomely at you as if you aren’t politely telling him to fuck off with your eyes alone.

then again. you don’t really expect him to understand social cues.

“for the dozenth time, please leave me alone.”

so you verbalize your intent instead.

“i can’t do that, baby,” he replies. “not until you agree to go out with me.”

you suck in a deep huff of air, close your eyes, and dig your fingers into your thighs to ward away the distress.

“just one date. please?” he prods, nudging himself closer over the desk as if the scrawls of paper you’re trying to organize aren’t as important as his incessant badgering. “are you really going to keep saying no to this face?” the face in mention looks particularly punch-able right now. you’ve always taken pride in yourself for being a very patient, patient individual. jake sim from philosophy 102 is testing that patience.

“the library is for reading,” you say through gritted teeth. patience, patience, patience. you’re a daffodil on a breezy field, a piece of driftwood on a steady river. you will not fight a man in your workplace. you will keep your job and maintain inner peace.

“i am reading,” he argues. “i’m trying to read your mind because i don’t get why you don’t want to go out with me.”

holy crap. he’s insufferable.

“i’ve already told you dozens of times, jake.” now, you don’t know a thing or two about the ball sport he does, but that pink varsity jacket is starting to look abhorrent. it’s being shoved into your face the more he tries to throw himself over your desk. a bright jarring color, unsafe for the eyes. “i don’t want to go out with you. also, i’d appreciate if you stop ruining my work.”

one of the documents got wrinkled under his elbow. his mouth opens, “oh, sorry!” and he quickly backs off, ironing the sheet with his palms. “but at least tell me why you don’t want to go out with me. you keep rejecting me with a blank face but i don’t know why.”

your upper lip twitches. 

because this is all because of a dare, that’s fucking why.

no, even that aside, the way he keeps arrogantly trying to hit on you, expecting you to just accept it and go is grinding your gears. you’re calm. you’re usually calm. but something about this guy just pushes all your buttons in one go, makes you spew out bullshit you’d never dare yourself to say to anyone else.

“hey,” your rouse. “can you kiss me right now?”

two can play at that game, bitch.

it works. it works really well because jake is suddenly as pink as his jacket. well, you don’t blame him. the library isn’t safe from gross, hormonal activities, but those are usually done in between the shelves— not at the front desk near the entrance. 

you’re mimicking his stance, leaned forward, arms crossed over the desk and all. “like— like a peck on the cheek?” he stutters.

“no. like tongue in mouth kissing me like a starved man and it’s your last meal on death row,” you clarify. it’s funny how you can see his brain circuits crashing in real time. serves him right. you let out a breath and stand up, seeing the clock tick closer to your break. you quickly gather your things and circle out from behind the desk, now in cross-armed disappointment next to your persistent pest. “this is why i don’t want to go out with you, jake. you don’t even have feelings for me. you’re doing this because your friends told you to, and i don’t—”

suddenly, you feel something soft on your lips.

suddenly, your knees are weak, your mind is fuzzy, and you’re exchanging spit with jake sim in the library lobby.

wait, you gasp into his mouth and he responds with a grunt. wait, your eyelids flutter, air knocked out of your chest that’s somehow now pressed against his because wait— this wasn’t supposed to go this way. 

how dare he actually do what you told him to? how dare he give you the best damn kiss you’ll ever have in your life? 

“what the fuck?” you breathe out in intermittent huffs, hands on his chest as you pull yourself back. jake’s hazy eyes are looking at you in a way that makes your brain jump in circles, coupled by the arm that he has looped around your lower back. he’s crazy. he’s fucking crazy. “why— why would you do that?!”

“you told me to kiss you!”

“and you did?!”

your eyes widen at the volume of your own voice, quickly slapping a hand over your swollen lips, but making noise is at the bottom of your library sins today. you see your supervisor’s attention on you from the corner of your eye, and your face flushes. “why would you go this far for a dare?” you say in a quieter voice, still manic, still frantic, and jake flinches hard when you jab a finger to his chest. “you’re nuts, you’re actually nuts, oh my god—”

“wait, what do you mean dare?” your finger seems to be hurting him because he grabs your wrist and brings your hand down. “a dare? a dare to do what?”

you seethe. “don’t play dumb with me, jake. overheard you and your little soccer friends last time—”

“it’s football—”

“i don’t care.” your voice is getting louder again. jake flinches once more. “the problem here is you keep asking me out to date you because your soccer friends are betting on who can bed the quiet library assistant first and— and i’m not going to play dumb just because you’re a good kisser. i’m angry and disgusted and—”

“do you mind continuing your argument outside?”

your mouth is hanging open, paused mid-speech. when you peer to your left, you see that your supervisor has teleported right next to you. oh, god. there goes your job. jake apologizes for the both of you and skews your frozen figure out the door. you’re screwed. your patience could handle six months at starbucks and three months babysitting three toddlers, but i cannot handle one sim jaeyun.

“so,” the perpetrator’s voice snaps you back to reality. you’re both now outside the library, and he’s looking at you with a smugness that begs a kick to the balls. “you think i kiss good.”

your face bitters. “is that your only takeaway from all that?”

“no,” he shakes his head. “i also got that you’re rightfully mad at me for something i have to clear up.”

here we go. you’re curious to see what excuses he’ll make, how many sorry’s he’ll impart, and if he’ll get down on his knees. jake. but his starting words aren’t what you’re hoping for. “there isn’t a bet,” he starts. “my teammates were just trying to tease me because i didn’t have the balls to ask you out. dumb, i know, but they were dumber because they were all like, ‘if you don’t make a move soon, we will, blah, blah, blah’ to provoke me so—”

jake is matching his varsity jacket again.

“long story short, i made them run fifteen laps and decided to get it over with by asking you out on a date.”

you’re brought back to the first instance jake had asked you out— it was in the lecture hall, right after class, and he was wearing the same pink jacket that at this point seems like his second skin. the color isn’t as jarring as you initially thought.

“but rejection didn’t feel nice. so i thought i’d try again.”

you narrow your eyes. “again, as in like, eight times?”

“you counted?” he muses. you are unamused. he clears his throat and continues. “you’re always so calm and collected, but your eyebrows would furrow and your face would scrunch up whenever i threw you the question. it’s cute. i got addicted. you can’t pin all the blame on me.”

you let his words simmer, and with each passing second of silence jake grows more nervous, fidgeting in wait. you decide to spare him the agony, letting out a deep and heavy sigh. “okay. you’re forgiven.”

it’s instantaneous how his face lights up. now, you’re the one flinching.

“nice! does that mean we’re dating now? can i kiss you again?”

“now hold on,” you stop him, mildly appalled, mostly flustered. “i said i forgive you. i never said we can start making out in a public area again.”

he bats his eyes at you. “in private then?” 

you want to hit him. you want to hit him so bad. sim jaeyun is the pest that has been following you for quite some time now. you fear that at this point, there’s no getting rid of him now.

PATIENCE, PATIENCE. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.

[ddejavvu]

Han solo's hands that are much bigger than readers. They look so massive when compared to readers smaller frame.

Imagine them on reader's thighs,waist even face as he holds it with one or both hands ! Maybe those hands go somehere else ifykwim 😏

Im in love with him, help.

i was just talking about han holding reader by the back of the neck with indy earlier. some good shit.

this post is 18+, minors dni.

han has disgustingly massive hands. no, really, they're obscenely large. and you know what they say about big hands <333

i think before you're even hooking up, or maybe after you've started fucking but you're not right at the moment, he'll still use them to boss you around. he pushes against your shoulder if you're in his way instead of just slipping past you or saying excuse me. he'll pinch your ass if you walk by him. he'll snatch stuff out of your hands, just take it right away from you purely to piss you off. it happens especially with stuff you're trying to move out of the crap pile that i know his quarters are in the falcon. i know there's weird shit laying all over the place, and god forbid you try to pick some of it up and put it elsewhere so that you have a spot to sit down, 'cause he'll yank it out of your hands and go 'gimme that. keep your hands to yourself.'

i think when you're riding his dick he'll shove them in your mouth. you're bouncing on his cock, desperately trying to fuck yourself hard enough on him to satisfy him, but the thing is you're tired and it would be soooo much easier if he just helped you by putting those massive hands of his on your hips and bouncing you himself. but he doesn't, because he wants to watch you come undone trying to please him :]

he'll watch you abuse your achy, soaking wet, drooling pussy on his cock and he'll put one of his massive hands on your face. he sticks his pointer and middle finger in your mouth, and uses the rest to anchor himself on your cheekbones. he's clutching tight to your face and you're letting him jam his fingers down your throat, feeling their rough pads prod at the back of your throat enough to have you gagging and choking on them. you're a mess, your eyes are red-rimmed and wet with tears, you're desperately trying to swallow his fingers, your tongue is going wild trying to cover every inch of his skin with spit, and your poor puffy pussy is all open and wet and hot all over his cock. he likes it when you're a mess, especially when you make yourself a mess for him.

the sounds of your choking make his dick twitch inside of you. he might even press his fingers down on your tongue to flood your mouth with drool because he's cruel, and he wants to watch your eyes roll back into your head as you try to control the itchy feeling in your throat of needing to gag. he's such a shit-talker, he'll hit you with that gruff, condescending voice of his, 'stupid little thing, ain't'cha? trying to swallow my whole fuckin' hand?'

he's gonna torture you until the obscene mixture of slick and cum and sweat and sex is sliding down not only your legs but his own pelvis, and then he's gonna jam it back inside of you with those huge hands of his. he'll use them to manhandle you onto the mattress, pin your shoulder to the sheets, and drag his long, thick fingers across your skin, scooping the slick up and stuffing it back inside of your leaking hole. you're absolutely soaked in the stuff, both of you, so it'll never work the way he wants it to, but he's going to stuff you with as much as you can take, and then he's gonna stick his fingers back in your face so that you can clean them off for him.

i also just think he'd stick his fingers in your mouth for his own pleasure. you're reading something, or you're focused on a project you're working on, and all of a sudden han's pinching the hollows of your cheeks together so that your mouth opens, and one of his rough fingers is bullying its way into your mouth. He pins your head against his stomach if he's doing it from behind you, and you're just held in this headlock while he sticks a finger down your throat.

'c'mon, suck it off, sweetheart.' he orders you, completely unphased by your disgruntled dismay at being oh-so-rudely interrupted from whatever task you were focusing on before, 'stop squirming, you're so fuckin' dramatic.'

i like the idea of him having his hands all over you all the time. i think he squeezes you by the back of the neck like i mentioned earlier. he's the type of guy to pinch and rub your shoulders all of a sudden in a 'massage' that really feels like your muscles are being ripped apart. he's hands-on and you're gonna have to get used to it.

he hauls you around by the bicep, too. he grabs you like a dude and yanks you wherever he wants. pinches tight enough for it to hurt, maybe just enough for it to bruise if he's feeling like it. he can be gentle with you, of course, but he's rough by nature and i think he'd manhandle you more often than not with those monster fucking hands he's got.

[linkito]

Kiss Prompt Scarian 30 …as comfort? :3 -🎀

ange asked for this as well, so it’s gotta be hhau, right? ft. some unused dialogue from our Big RP™

Scar hates seeing Grian like this— curled up and miserable, wings tucked so tightly against his back that they may as well be invisible. His hands fidget with the ribbon tied around one of his wrists, body mostly hidden under the length of his cloak. He’s pressed up into the wall in a way that can’t be comfortable and Scar just can’t take it anymore.

He needs to do something.

“Grian,” Scar tries, and though his ears droop slightly when Grian barely twitches in response, he still continues. “Did I ever tell you about my idea for a cookie shop?”

Grian does perk up slightly at that, but it’s mostly to cock an eyebrow in confusion, wondering why Scar would possibly think to bring up such a thing now of all times.

They hardly ever talk about Hermitcraft. And for good reason— it usually results in nothing but pain.

But something about Scar making cookies brings warmth to Grian’s frigid, aching heart, and despite his better judgement, he mumbles, “…cookie shop?”

Scar smiles, feeling successful already and deciding to ride that high. “Yeah, and I was going to bake them myself! None of that villager crap.”

Grian doesn’t reply directly, but he nods, eyes now regarding Scar with renewed interest, glad to tether his attention onto something that isn’t his own self-loathing and despair.

Scar is happy to take what he can get. He also scoots in closer to Grian, craving the closeness, just wanting to be within his orbit. It takes a moment, but Grian returns the casual affection by idly running his fingers over Scar’s knee, which is more than enough to keep Scar going on with his daydreamy nonsense.

“I was gonna grow out my hair and have this whole elven theme going— live in a tree, work right out of my house.” Scar runs a hand through his messy hair, noting that it’s already begun to grow out quite a lot, even if it looks nothing like how he would have intended. He probably looks more like some sort of goblin than a lustrous-haired elf.

Grian chuckles softly, pulling Scar out of his thoughts. “What, like a Keebler Elf?”

“What’s a Keebler Elf?” Scar asks, entirely genuine.

That gets Grian to laugh fully, and even if Scar doesn’t understand why, it makes his heart about melt. He loves Grian’s laugh. He doesn’t get to hear it enough these days.

“You know,” Scar adds, feeling cheeky now that he’s already earned this small victory. “I had a particular cookie in mind that I bet you would have loved.”

“Tell me,” Grian says, eager for more of this delightful distraction.

Now that he’s got him, Scar begins a long-winded explanation, theatrical and exuberant: “Well, I make a delicious chocolate chip cookie, of course, but you can’t have those—“

“I’m not allergic to chocolate, Scar.”

“You’re not??” Scar gasps, earning a small eye roll from Grian (he’s still smiling though, so still a win). “Well no matter! Because I had an amayzin’ idea for incorporating chorus fruit into the icing for sugar cookie.”

“Chorus fruit, really?” Grian replies quietly, now weirdly finding himself craving the odd, purple fruit that he likely would have never eaten otherwise. He feels the edge of doomed nostalgia begin to creep in, but only for a moment because Scar keeps talking, snagging his attention back to this fantasy of a quaint little cookie shop.

“Yeah! A treat and a surprise!” Scar exclaims proudly. “One little bite and zzzzzooooop!”

Grian laughs again, weaker, but still amused by Scar’s antics. He wants to let the daydream linger, to picture bright purple frosting and a fantastical treehouse without feeling a sense of great loss of what could have and should have been. He struggles, but Scar’s smile keeps him grounded, leaves him leaning in, gravitated toward that unbridled joy he somehow manages to hold onto.

But maybe his sorrow still shows through, because Scar leans in closer, presenting that smile so it fills all of his vision. “You know what I was going to call them?”

Grian blinks, barely able to process anything other than the closeness of Scar’s smiling face. He manages a small shake of his head, eyes still anchored on Scar’s bright green ones.

Scar’s smile widens, seeming incredibly pleased with himself and whatever this answer may be.

“Elven kisses,” he coos, closing the distance and pressing their lips together, softly, like a feather brushing over skin.

The name hardly makes sense, if Grian is being honest, but he doesn’t care in the slightest. Something about the prospect of a simpler time, where Grian is surrounded by the fresh smell of cookies and a beautifully woven treehouse and the image of Scar presenting him with that name just as proudly, a shy little blush scattered across his cheeks.

He should have kissed Scar a long, long time ago, he thinks, somewhat sadly.

But Scar’s lips are on his now, and it’s possibly one of the only good things left in this wretched nightmare of a server— an uncomplicated affection, something genuine and pure. Something gentle and loving when everything else is coarse and cruel.

Grian moves, grabbing both sides of Scar’s head with desperate, yearning hands, and kisses him fully, hungry for the comfort of Scar’s breath against his own, lips intertwined, passionate and unwavering.

Alive. Alive. Alive.

He feels Scar’s mouth curl upwards into a joyous smile, pressed into his own, private— theirs alone to enjoy— and for a moment, everything feels like it might be alright.

For a moment there’s sweetness dancing across his tongue, and Grian willingly falls into the illusion of its simplicity.

[thewritetofreespeech]

tags: bondage, blowjobs, handjobs, heterosexual intercourse, fem!dom, 69, orgasm delay, mild ice play

He came to with a groan and tried to force his eyes open. It took a few tries, lids fluttering like bird wings, but Shuhei was finally able to get them open and was met with....darkness.

‘What the fu...’ His senses suddenly became ultra-heightened as he tried to sit up, but a heavy weight pulled on his wrists. He now realized they were above his head. Keeping him tied down. Immediately he started to jolt and thrash to get himself, or at least his eyes, free.

“Don’t try to fight it dear.” The vice-captain stopped as he heard a soft, silky, familiar voice around him. “You’ll only make it worse.”

“Goddamit [Y/N]!”

He remembered now. He was coming over after work. Late, as usual. He tried to get off sooner, but his duties as vice-captain and member of the 9th & 13 kept him very busy. Shuhei had been more than prepared for a tongue lashing or cold shoulder when he showed up. Ready to fall on bended knee and apologize if need be. What he hadn’t expected was to be hit with a stun kido the minute he walked through the door. Knocking him out and landing him in the current situation he was in. “Let me go! This isn’t funny!”

“It’s not meant to be funny.” [Y/N] responded coolly. “It’s meant to be a punishment.”

Shuhei gulped a little. Ok, so she was a little madder than he expected. How was he gonna get out of this one? He might write words for a living, but coming up with the right ones to say were always at a loss for him. “Look, [Y/N], I’m sorry.” Apology always seemed a good place to start.

“I don’t want your apology.” ‘Crap’. “I want you to suffer.”

Shuhei tensed at their words. Since he couldn’t see, he couldn’t tell if she was serious or not. And since he couldn’t move, he had to consider the possibility that he was in actual danger. ‘Dammit!’ He cursed in his head as he tried to break his bindings again. Why did he have to be dating a kido master?!

There was a shift in the reiatsu in the air he could pick up on, then a shift in the bed. A long pause. Then suddenly something very cold was on his chest. Shuhei flinched and made an undignified sound. Startled by the cold. His brain associating it with the cool bite of steel, but he realized it was just a piece of ice in their hand. “Hey! Quit it! That’s cold!”

“That’s the point.” [Y/N] said. Her tone about as cool as the ice.

Shuhei mentally huffed and laid back. He realized he wasn’t getting out of this without taking his lumps. She was angry. He supposed he should be in trouble for breaking their date again. And, [Y/N] was right, fighting would only make it worse.

He flinched and gritted his teeth as the ice passed over his skin. Leaving pimpled flesh behind. It would start. Then stop. Pass over his nipple, or a particularly sensitive spot on his chest, making him jump. Then it would stop again. Eventually he got used to the sensation. His blinded sight making him incredibly aware of the different temperatures on his skin.

“You’re getting hard.”

Their voice suddenly cut through his focus like a knife. “N-No I’m not!” Shuhei backfired. He could just guess how red his face was. One, because he was never comfortable talking about sexual things directly. And two, because it was absolutely true.

“Don’t lie to me.” [Y/N]’s fingers ghost over the top of his hakama where his erection was starting to form. It twitched and raised slightly higher as Shuhei let out a gasp. “Lying to me once this evening about our date was bad enough.”

“I’m sorry…..” He apologized again. His voice a little weaker this time.

He felt ashamed for breaking his promise. But how could he make it up to them? Make them see that he really was sorry, and that he had no intention of breaking that promise to them. “I really did try. It’s just that my duties are…”

“They’re very important to you.” She finished for him. A hand slipped into his pants to stroke his partial erection. “I’m important to.”

“You are!” Shuhei insisted. The ropes biting into his wrists as he tried to sit up in earnest but failed. “You are important to me. You’re the most important person to me.”

“More important than Kensei?” [Y/N] asked. Her hand still stroking him slowly. “More important than Mashiro?”

“Yes…I mean…that…” It was getting hard to think with her hand on him.

He wanted to say ‘yes, you are more important’ but then again, he couldn’t really say no to his captain or a superior when they asked for something. Both were important. But he couldn’t really explain that as his brain was starting to cloud with pleasure. Like a slow rolling fog over the hills in the Rukongai. The blindfold making it almost impossible to block it out or focus on anything else. “[Y/N]….”

“You’re not supposed to be enjoying this.” Shuhei let out a sharp wail when she twisted his nipple, hard. The pain creating clear focus for a second before it sharpened the edges of his pleasure and made them more intense. He liked the pain, he realized, and his face had to be beet red now as he felt embarrassment and shame along with an undeniable pleasure. “You’re supposed to be being punished for being in trouble.”

“I…I am…” His tongue felt like it weighed 10 pounds. The back of his throat was a weird mix of dry and sopping wet from the drool in his mouth. “I am. I was wrong. I’m sorry. You were right. I deserve to be punished.” His whole body felt on fire now. Gods what was wrong with him!

There was a shift on the bed and Shuhei was terrified for a moment that she was just going to leave him there. Then he heard the sound of rustling fabric over the pounding in his ears. He realized she was taking her clothes off. She was naked right now. He had to swallow as his mouth salivated at the thought and imagine of her naked body his mind had conjured up for him. “You want to make it up to me?”

He would have nodded enthusiastically but was caught off guard when the bed shifted again. Only this time above his head and not by his waist. The soft feeling of her thighs against his face and arms, still pinned above him, and she doesn’t have to say anything for him to know what he has to do to make it up to her.

Shuhei craned his neck up almost immediately before she even lowered herself down to start licking her. He moaned loudly in tandem with [Y/N]’s soft whimper when his tongue touched her. Lapping at her with a gusto he’d never had before; and he usually wasn’t stingy in that department when they were together normally.

The vice-captain continued to pleasure [Y/N] as she settled nicely over his face. The binds on his wrists biting now and then as he wanted to touch her but couldn’t. But maybe that was part of his punishment. Aside from keeping him here, the binds were meant to keep him from touching her. Which she knew was his favorite part. Shuhei had always been a tactile person. Needing to touch everything to figure it out. He’d spend hours just touching her body if he could. Mapping out every space. Finding all those spots that made her giggle or sigh. Just holding her close. It was torture not to touch her with anything but his mouth, but he assumed that was part of the point.

She lifted up to give him a chance to breath and he felt her fall forward. “Oh fuck….” Shuhei hissed as he felt her breath near his cock. He’d been so focused on her taste and her pussy that he forgot how aching his cock was. The simple whisp of air enough to make it painfully reaware of how hard he was. “[Y/N]….”

“Keep going.”

If he’d been in his right mind, he would realize how hot & thick her voice sounded. Not cool and collected at all now. Clearly not unaffected by their game. But he couldn’t think of anything accept his throbbing cock and her command, so he went back to licking her like he was told.

[Y/N] let out a heavy moan when he started again and Shuhei let out a shout, his whole body convulsing, when she wrapped her mouth around his cock. He didn’t cum, but it felt like his whole body had an orgasm when her lips wrapped around him. He knew he wasn’t going to last long.

They continue to pleasure each other with their mouths. Shuhei’s brain overwrought with pleasure. His cock in her mouth giving him the best blowjob he’s ever had and simultaneously tasting her sweetness and feeling her pussy quiver on his tongue as it was about to cum.

He wanted them to cum together. So he sped up his movements and sucked on her clit, while his hips bucked into her mouth. Just a few more seconds and he could finally cum. Just a little more…..Just a little more…..

His mouth came off [Y/N]’s cunt with almost a wet pop when suddenly nothing happened. “What did you do?!”

[Y/N] pulled back from his cock with a long, wet pull of her mouth. “61.”

It took Shuhei a moment to figure out what that meant. His thoughts lost in a sea of pleasure, pain, about to cum, not about to cum. Then he realized what that meant and his whole body went tense. “You used Six-Rod on my dick?!”

“Would you prefer I stopped and got a cock ring?”

He couldn’t even think to come up with a response to that. Shuhei was still too shocked that his girlfriend had used a binding kido on his dick to stop him from cumming, and that it actually worked. The desire to cum was still there. The feeling of he was about to cum was still there. But he just…..couldn’t. “Take it off!”

“No.”

He felt the bed shift again and Shuhei started to trash this time in panic of being left alone. Her hand came down on his stomach, just at his naval, to settle him and also use it as a base to straddle him. “You’re going to know what it’s like to be kept waiting.” Shuhei let out a long, deep, aching moan as [Y/N] slide down on his cock. Warm, wet, and blindingly hot. He could almost see white flashes behind his eyes they were shut so tight as he continued to moan. “To feel what it’s like to wait for someone to come. To be left hanging while other people do what they need to first.”

His moans turned into whimpers as she started to rock. It felt so good. But with that it also hurt because he was so desperate to cum. He felt helpless. His mind tormented by all these feelings & sensations that it could really help him. It could only do one thing. “Please….” Beg.

“Are you going to make me a priority from now on?” [Y/N] asked as her hips rocked faster.

“Yes!”

“You’re not going to blow off our dates or keep me waiting anymore?” She was fully riding him now.

“Yes!!”

“Have you learned your lesson?”

“Yes! Yes! I learned my lesson! I won’t do it again! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please, please just let me cum!”

There was the sharp sound of the snap of her fingers and the binding was off. Instantly Shuhei came so hard he thought he might pass out. His hips arching off the bed as far as they could to bury his cock as deep in her as possible as it felt like his cock was cumming forever, wrapped in the quivering walls of her pussy.

Eventually, it stopped. The two of them collapsed on the bed in an exhausted, pathing heap as Shuhei’s brain still tried to make sense of what happened.

[Y/N] moved off of him. He let out a soft, over stimulated whimper when he felt his cock slip from inside her, then hissed when the blindfold was removed from his eyes. “Sorry if I was mean to you.”

Her hand moved to brush against his cheek, and Shuhei realized that tears had been welling up on his eyes. “It’s ok.”

Her hands move to untie him. They fall in a heavy flop once released, before he instantly moved to wrap them around her. Finally having a chance. “I’m sorry I was late. And if you were feeling unimportant.”

“I was.” [Y/N] replied into his chest as he held her close. “I suppose this was a little dramatic.”

“It was….fine.” Shuhei wasn’t in a place mentally to be honest and say he enjoyed it. Despite everything that just happened, he was still wasn’t comfortable talking about sexual things directly. Maybe the blindfold helped. “I promise, I won’t be late again.”

“You better not be.” [Y/N] lifted her hand and a gold orb of light formed on her index finger. Shuhei’s cock twitching in response. He got the message.

[lastoneout]

Got asked if I had any tips for new artists during my stream today and I figured I'd put them here too:

Draw, seriously, just do it. This is the hardest part and also the most crucial. Just run at it screaming and refuse to back down. You just gotta do it.

Always do your wrist/arm/shoulder stretches before drawing and make sure to take breaks to stretch/re-center yourself if you've been going for a few hours or more! (Here's the stretches I do, and they help with gaming and writing and desk work too, they're just a good idea all around!)

Try to draw less from the wrist and more from the shoulder(move your arm more and your wrist less basically). That and stretches will help you avoid carpal tunnel which is never fun.

Consistency is only something you need to worry about if you're like, working in the industry/doing some types of commissions(like an twitch emote bundle or a comic book). If you're just starting out or only drawing for yourself it literally doesn't matter. Like, I don't think I've ever drawn a character exactly the same way twice, it's fine.

Don't do warm up drawings, do warm up scribbles. Doodles circles and squares and lines and swirls until you feel nice and lose, then start actually drawing.

If you're between 50-90% done with something and you REALLLY start to hate it, keep going. You just gotta power through, cuz chances are it's perfectly fine(or even really good) and your monkey brain is being a jackass coward chugging that impostor syndrome juice.

If you finish and you still hate it put it away until tomorrow or the day after and then look again. Never EVER trust your negative opinions about your art(or anything) if it's after like 8pm.

Re: the above points, as an exampke last night I HATED my new pngtuber model that I'd spent literally all day on. Went to bed and in the morning was like "oh this is good actually". Trust me, tired burnt out you is not a good judge of quality, especially the quality of something you've been staring at for like 4-5 hours.

If, after all that, you still hate it, that's okay too. It's a bummer, but don't try to force yourself to like something just cuz you spent a lot of time on it. Chalk it up to experience and move on to the next thing!

Do everything in your power to not compare yourself to others. It won't get you anywhere. Instead learn to look at other people's art and find what you like about it and try to break it down or do it that way yourself. Dont fully copy/trace ofc, but really think about how something looks and see if you can figure out why you like it and/or how it's done.

OH MY GOD USE REFERENCES. Anyone who says not to use references is talking out of their ass. You think figure drawing classes are bad?? That artists draw from life just for shits and giggles?? No, its because you need to know what shit looks like to draw it!!! USE REFERENCES!!!

Same with youtube tutorials, especially for learning to use digital art programs. Do take everything with a grain of salt ofc(we've all seen the "masculine vs feminine eyes" shit or the trash trend of "I fix my viewer's bad art uwu" ignore that crap) but you can learn all kinds of shit for free on youtube.

If you can feel yourself burning out fucking stop drawing a take a break. Even if you're in the middle of something, or part of you wants to keep drawing. Burn outs suck and it's gonna take a lot longer to get over it if you push yourself until you crash instead of just acknowledging that you're hitting your limit and stopping for a few days. The art will be there when you get back, your health should always come first!

If someone tells you thick line art or anime style or whatever is bad, ignore them. All art is subjective. Draw what you want how you want. Even if it's all thick line art or you stick to sketches or only do anime stuff or chibis or humans or furries or goddamn stick figures just draw literally whatever. If this is just a hobby for you there's no reason to push yourself. Draw what makes you happy, fuck everyone else.

Anyway that's all I've got for now, might add more tomorrow when I'm less tired(and I encourage additions for other artists as I'm self taught and had to learn most of this the hard way and thus I'm sure I've missed stuff) but yeah, just draw my dudes, this is supposed to be fun. You deserve to have fun.

[heyiwrotesomethings]

Hey there Maddy! Hope you're having a good day with all those requests. I was thrilled to wake up and see you open it again. Anyway here comes the request! I know you don't usually write for MHA (my hero academia) but Hado Nejire-san is just too underrated 😤. I simply love the stories Prickly with Kanae. Could you do a pro!hero Nejire going on a blind date with gn!reader who have similar personality to Sanemi? Reader experienced family mistreated and simply dislike love. Pls don't overwork! 🥰

Blind Date

Nejire Hado x They/Them Reader

A/N: Here it is! I saw your ad-ons too and added in what I could. Unfortunately I didn’t really put a true slow burn in here because going from blind date to lovers slow burn proper would realistically add another 12,000 words easy. I tried to give the illusion of time passing, but nothing is a better replacement than buckling down and writing the whole scenario. Hope you still like it! Word Count: 4,248

“No.” (Y/n) rested their fists against the glossy coffee shop table, glaring daggers at Mirio in the booth seat across from them. “And if you ask me one more time, I don’t care that you’re my best friend, I will knock your teeth in.”

“Don’t be like that!” Mirio chuckled, lightly tapping (Y/n)’s shin beneath the table. (Y/n) tried to kick him back three times as hard, but the hero anticipated it and (Y/n)’s foot phased right through him. “When was the last time you went out on a date? It would be good for you.”

“I don’t care. I don’t have time for that crap. I don’t even know who you’re trying to set me up with so why the hell would I go?”

“Oh come on, when have I ever steered you wrong? Trust me, you guys would make a great pair if you hit it off like I think you will.”

“Tell. Me. Who. It. Is.”

“That would defeat the purpose of a blind date. It wouldn’t be fair if I told you, but not her.”

“Then I’m not fucking going.” They stood from the booth and grabbed their apron from the table top. “My break is over. Leave.”

Mirio pouted, then sighed, “I guess you leave me no choice then… I’m evoking my favor that I earned from saving your business from that coffee bean villain last month!” He declared, smiling twice as brightly as before.

“You have to be kidding me!”

“Oh I’m dead serious! Tomorrow night, six o’clock I’m picking you up and dropping you off at that nice restaurant across the city. You better dress nice!”

“Why the hell are you picking me up?”

“So you can’t bail.” Mirio nodded to himself. A fool proof plan!

***

The next night came much faster than (Y/n) would have liked. Which is to say they wished it hadn’t come at all. Maybe a villain would keep Mirio tied up or he’d forget to come. But no such luck, Mirio came knocking a half hour earlier than their previously discussed pick up time.

“Look at you!” He praised, making (Y/n)’s eye twitch with agitation, “You actually got dressed up. You look awesome!”

“I knew that if I didn’t, I’d have to deal with you doing it for me. The sooner I get this over with, the sooner I get to go home.”

“Can’t complain I guess. Let’s go!”

Mirio nudged (Y/n) out the door, (Y/n)’s elbow phasing through him when they tried to retaliate. (Y/n) scowled throughout the whole car ride, trying their best to block out Mirio’s awful singing along to everything that played on the radio. It was almost a relief when they finally got there.

“I’ll introduce you guys and then I’ll leave you be. Text me when you’re done… and that means you have to stay at least until you pick up the check and then I’ll pick you up.”

“Fine. Kinda bullshit that you are making me pay for something I didn’t want to do—”

Mirio took (Y/n)’s hand and slapped his credit card into their open palm.

“I’ve got you covered! I thought of everything, just relax! She’s great, you’ll love her!”

(Y/n) reluctantly followed Mirio inside of the restaurant and as soon as they were directed to the reserved table, a woman with periwinkle colored hair caught sight of them and got up to greet them, hugging Mirio excitedly.

“Hello, Mirio! Long time no see!”

“Good to see you Nejire! You look beautiful!”

“Aww, thanks!” Nejire twirled a bit to show off the full movement of her dress. “I got it a few months ago for a promotional thing. I’ve been so busy lately, I almost forgot what it’s like to dress up for a date and not crime fighting.” She laughed.

(Y/n) had watched them interact through the corner of their eye. The boiling annoyance writhing them evaporated and in its place left awkwardness and even anxiety to an extent. They hadn’t been living under a rock, they knew as soon as they saw her that she was none other than the pro-hero Nejire-chan. What was Mirio thinking trying to set them up with a popular pro-hero like her?

“So Nejire, this is my buddy (Y/n), they run that coffee shop that makes those brownies you love so much,” He slapped them on the back, not at all hard, but they did almost lose balance from the sudden blow, “and (Y/n), this is my very good friend Hado Nejire. We go way back. We went to UA together!”

“Nice to meet you.” (Y/n) mumbled, messing with the seams inside of their jacket pockets. Being cordial was like pulling teeth with them, but until Nejire proved to be a snob then they really couldn’t bring themself to be anything but subdued and polite. As uncomfortable and unnatural as that felt.

“Nice to meet you too!” Nejire surprised (Y/n) by giving them a hug too, she pulled away before they could decide if they should take their hands out of their pockets to return the overly friendly gesture, which was just fine with them.

“Mirio told me so much about you!”

“…Is that so.” If looks could kill, permeation or no, Mirio would be dead, “I was under the impression that this was a blind date. He didn’t tell me a thing about you.”

“Oh no,” Nejire laughed, seemingly unaware of (Y/n)’s downright murderous glare of annoyance, “he didn’t tell me you were going to be my date tonight. No matter how many questions I asked, he never broke, but he has talked about you in passing before and he sometimes drops your brownies and coffee off at my agency. I have to beat off the side-kicks and interns with a stick just to make sure I can get just one! They’re really good!”

“…Thanks.” (Y/n) cleared their throat. They were never very good at accepting compliments.

“Welp!” Mirio clapped his hands together, “I better get going. You two have a good night! I expect to hear all about it later!”

“Will do! Bye-bye, Mirio!” Nejire waved.

(Y/n) felt a bit of panic rise up at Mirio leaving them alone together, but they quickly stamped the feeling down. They were a grown adult, they could survive one date. After that, they could pack up their shit and move across the world because that was how embarrassing said date would be.

“Hey, aren’t you going to sit down? Or would you rather stand?” Nejire asked curiously, already back in her seat.

Great start.

“No, I’ll sit.” They slid into the seat in front of Nejire and took a couple slow sips of the water that was mercifully already at the table.

What the hell were they supposed to do now? Talk? That was one of their least favorite activities. That was why they worked in the back unless some asshat tried to harass their employees. They were too just too rough around the edges. They couldn’t even compliment a little kid’s light up shoes without making them cry, how were they supposed to do this without making Nejire feel uncomfortable?

As soon as they put down their now empty cup, they prepared to break the ice, but Nejire had been waiting for just that moment to do so herself.

“So what’s your quirk? Or do you not have one? Is it baking related? Is that why everything you make is so good? Do you have any pets? What is your blood type? Zodiac sign? I don’t really read into that stuff all that much, but I still think it’s interesting to compare. Oh! and—“

(Y/n) didn’t have to worry about keeping the conversation alive, they just had to focus on keeping up with all of Nejire’s queries. They could barely get an answer out before Nejire would acknowledge and then move on to the next question. Had it been anyone else, (Y/n) would have surely snapped, but they actually didn’t mind Nejire’s questions because she seemed to genuinely care and was making an effort to truly absorb all of the information and evened out the exchange by sharing information about herself.

Dinner went by very fast, and before they knew it, it was time to call it a night. (Y/n) paid, walked Nejire to her car, and they said their goodbyes. Nejire even gave them another hug before getting in her car and driving away. When all was said and done, the night actually hadn’t been all that bad. (Y/n) didn’t think they would get a second date or anything, but at least they hadn’t completely bombed.

They texted Mirio to let him know they were ready to go home while leaning against the brick wall of the restaurant. Then again five minutes later… and a third time with a couple colorful expletives mixed in before Mirio was suddenly calling them.

“Where the hell are you?” They snapped.

“Sorry, (Y/n)! Villain came up!” (Y/n) heard Mirio explain between explosions. “I called Nejire though, she’s coming back for you so just hang tight!”

“What? No! You call her back and tell her to forget it. I’ll just take a taxi.”

“No time! Gotta get back to work, see ya tomorrow!”

“Hey—!“

The call disconnected and (Y/n) nearly growled. They briefly considered making the call to the taxi service anyway, but they already saw the aquamarine colored car Nejire had drove off in turning back into the parking lot. The car pulled up to the curb and the passenger window rolled down.

“Hello, stranger!” Nejire teased, peering out the window from the driver’s seat. “Let’s get you home.”

“Thanks, you really didn’t have to come back.” (Y/n) shuffled into the passenger seat and buckled up.

“It’s no trouble. It’s actually good that Mirio is tied up right now.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm! I realized on my way home that I didn’t get your phone number! That’s so silly, right? How would we be able to go on another date if we can’t easily get in touch? Although, now that I’m thinking about it more, I could have caught up to you at the café or got your number from Mirio, couldn’t I?”

“Sure.” (Y/n) didn’t mean to be so curt, but hearing that Nejire wanted their phone number and that she was already planning for a second date was a shock.

Nejire then proceeded to plan an outing for next Tuesday. (Y/n) only opened their mouth to confirm plans and tell Nejire when to turn on the street. When Nejire pulled up to the curb of (Y/n)’s apartment complex, she handed them her phone with a cheerful giggle leaving her lips when (Y/n) entered their number into a new contact.

“Bye-bye, (Y/n)! I’ll see you Tuesday!”

“See you Tuesday.” (Y/n) nodded stiffly and exited the car. They watched Nejire pull back into the street and turn at the next intersection before trudging into their apartment building.

They nearly gave the poor receptionist a heart attack when they came in all severe faced and rigid. When they got to their apartment, they took a shower to cool down and when they picked up their phone afterwards, they noticed a bunch of texts from Mirio they decided to ignore and a text from an unknown number.

They opened the text, discovering it was a text from Nejire wishing them a good night’s sleep. They took in a deep breath, and yelled to the skies, shaking the phone in their hands.

They heard a round of loud bangs from the next apartment over and pounded on the corresponding wall twice as hard. Then they fell onto the couch with their hands over their eyes. They had another date to prepare for! What were they going to do?!

***

One date became two, then three, then four and so on. They were meeting regularly once or twice every week. On the rare occasion they had even met up three times in a week.

(Y/n) thought this was supposed to get easier, but as they got to know Nejire better over the last few months, they only became more anxious. If Nejire hadn’t wanted to see them again after one or two dates, that would have been no great loss, but now the stakes have never been higher. They had been burned by love in the past, the adults in their life growing up wouldn’t know love if it smacked them in the face.

They really liked Nejire. As they grew more familiar, it only took seeing her at a distance or thinking they had heard her voice for their heart to speed up. They were afraid of disappointing her and losing her after opening up to her.

They left the café in the hands of their most capable employees and took the week off. They planned to make the best damn brownies they’ve ever made in preparation for the hike they were supposed to go on the following Monday. It wasn’t a lot… but they were shit at emotions. Hopefully they would be able to show Nejire how much they appreciated her with this small offering.

But not a single batch they made over the next handful of days was satisfactory in the hyper-critical baker’s mind. They ignored everyone and everything just to get this one thing right, and they couldn’t do it! They wouldn’t stop until they made something acceptable. And so, their brain did that funny thing some brains do, and made a misfortunate irrational decision, ignoring the stream of messages that were flooding their phone.

***

“(Y/n), I know you’re in there buddy, open the door!” Mirio called, knocking rhythmically against the door.

“I don’t think this is a good idea…” Tamaki warned, giving the door a wide berth in case it burst open.

“Nah, they’re fine! Come on, (Y/n), Nejire says you haven’t texted her back at all last week and when she went to the café to visit, you were never there. You’ve been dating for almost three months now, you can’t just ghost her like that! Especially when you’re supposed to go on a date with her this afternoon. We’ve gotta talk. What have you been up to?”

“They’re probably panicking. I would be.” Tamaki tugged his hood further over his face. “That’s a lot of pressure to put on a person.”

“Ah, it’s not so bad. You’ll see when I get you set up next.”

“What?” Tamaki paled, worried he might accidentally lose the octopus he ate for lunch.

“Anyways, pardon the intrusion!”

Mirio phased through the door, and the subsequent kitchenware that was pelted at him.

“Get out!” (Y/n) growled, throwing a rubber spatula at Mirio’s head. They were frazzled and wild-eyed, teeth grinding together, apron covered in flour, cocoa powder and chocolate frosting.

“Woah, what are you cooking up in here? I haven’t seen you look this manic in a while!”

“Nothing is fucking good enough! Everything I make tastes like shit!”

“No way, lemme see.”

“Hey!”

Mirio messily snatched a brownie from the glass baking pan and took a big bite. His shoulders slumped and a hum of bliss left him as he chewed. When he finally swallowed the single bite he wiped a tear from his eye, then looked to (Y/n) like they were a god.

“What are you talking about? This is the best batch you’ve ever made! I never thought you’d be able to top yourself like this. Amajiki! Get in here, you have to try these!”

“In what world do pro heroes think it’s cool to come into a civilian’s house uninvited and eat their shitty food?” (Y/n) grumbled, but watched Tamaki like a hawk while he timidly took a brownie.

“It’s really good.” Tamaki mumbled. “The frosting is so rich and thick, I could probably trap a villain in it.”

“Is this what you’ve been up to this week? Updating your recipe?”

“The recipe is fine.” (Y/n) hissed, “I’m trying to,” they growled again, growing more agitated, “I’ve been trying to make a batch for Hado, okay?! But apparently I forgot how to make anything decent.”

Mirio grinned and slapped (Y/n) on the back, “You kidding? She’ll love these! Don’t worry so much. I’ll help you pack ‘em up and clean. Then we can focus on attire for this afternoon.”

“I’m not going.”

“Huh? Why not?” Mirio caught the balled up apron (Y/n) tossed away without a care and followed them to the couch, “What happened to wanting to give Nejire brownies? I’m not letting you give up so easily, especially after I’ve been covering for you with Nejire all week while you were MIA.”

“I’m fucking exhausted!” (Y/n) growled, shooting back up from the couch. “I’m just not cut out for this crap. You know how hard this kind of stuff is for me. It’ll all just end in disappointment anyway, so why try at all?” She deserves someone better than me, was left unsaid, but the thought still hung over their head.

“I get that.” Tamaki mumbled, making Mirio whine and tug at his hair.

“Guys!” Mirio snapped, “That’s enough! You,” he pointed to (Y/n), “are going on that date, and you,” he pointed to Tamaki, “are going to help me get them there.”

“Did you even listen to me?” (Y/n) scowled.

“Yeah, and I get it. I know you’ve had a hard time in the past, and this is by far the longest relationship you’ve ever had, but you shouldn’t let it get in the way of something that could make you genuinely happy. Dating isn’t easy for everyone, even I know that, but please, go on this date with Nejire, tell her your concerns. You’ll see she’s not so scary.”

Mirio had thought that maybe he had finally got through to them, focusing on the contemplative expression (Y/n) wore, but then they growled and shook their head and Mirio was done trying to negotiate. No more Mr. Nice Guy.

“Amajiki, I’m gonna look in (Y/n)’s closet for what they should wear for the date. Make sure they don’t escape, will ya, buddy?”

“What?” (Y/n) snapped.

If Mirio, his sun, wanted his assistance, Tamaki was powerless to deny him. If it was important to Mirio, then he would stick it through, even if (Y/n) was giving him an extra scary look.

Tamaki’s fingers become discolored and began to expand until they were indistinguishable from the tentacles of an average octopus.

“I hope you know what you’re doing.” He sighed.

***

Nejire sat on the park bench near the trailhead and hummed pleasantly to herself, elbows on her knees and chin in her hands. She glanced to the small cooler backpack at her feet and smiled hopefully.

Mirio had explained most of the (Y/n) situation with her over the phone and she was relieved that they would be coming after all. They were more like Amajiki than she would have guessed, trying to flake out on social plans because they were too overwhelmed. Poor dear.

Hopefully they will get this all sorted out on their hike today and if not, well, at least they could say they tried, but Nejire really hoped everything would work out. She could tell that (Y/n) was sweeter than they often let on. There was a softness to their eyes and the way that they spoke to her that made her feel like there were butterflies in her stomach. What a fun feeling! Mirio sure knew what she liked!

Speaking of, she saw Mirio and Tamaki veer into the parking lot and waved, her hand falling back down to her mouth to cover her shock when (Y/n) was ejected from the backseat in a tangle of tentacles.

“Would love to stay and chat, but we gotta go! Good luck!” Mirio shouted. Then he tore off back onto the main road with Tamaki’s tentacles flapping in the wind.

“What an entrance.” Nejire giggled, skipping over to help (Y/n) to their feet. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” Came the curt reply, but then (Y/n) shrugged the backpack from their shoulders and presented it to Nejire while looking down at the gravel beneath their feet. “I made you brownies.”

“You did?” Nejire beamed, “Thank you, I can’t wait to have some! I brought some food for the trail too. I thought a picnic would be nice. What do you think?”

“Sounds good.”

And so they began to walk the trail together. Nejire kept (Y/n) present with queries and stories as they went, taking care to observe (Y/n) for any discomfort, but they seemed to be doing well. They only occasionally for water breaks or the couple people they met on the trail who recognized Nejire and wanted pictures.

“Sorry, to keep you waiting.” Nejire had said a little sheepishly when the small family she had visited with continued on their way. “There’s still a surprising amount of people on this trail for this time on a weekday.”

“Don’t worry about it. You really made those kids’ day.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah.”

Nejire hummed happily and skipped along beside (Y/n) who watch her out of the corner of their eye, wearing an almost unnoticeable smile.

When they made it to the top of the hill, they found a pretty tree with thick roots to lounge beneath. The thick roots made decent benches as they laid the food out between them.

“Are you having a good time?” Nejire asked, cradling her second brownie in her hands.

“Yeah.”

(Y/n) found it surprisingly easy to say. It was like when they had their first date. For all the agonizing and negative thoughts they had leading up to each event over the past three months, during their outings, it had all melted away. Nejire was just so easygoing and kind… she made everything that seemed insurmountable only a few hours ago, so much more simple.

“See? It’s not so bad.” Nejire beamed, “sooo, when we start planning another date after this one, or when we get even more serious, or when we decide to move in together or maybe even get married, don’t let yourself spiral. Call me, text me, come down to the agency if you want, let me help ease your concerns. I’m a hero after all, it’s part of my job.”

“…Thanks,” they rubbed the back of their neck, they hadn’t realized Nejire liked them so much.

For three months of dating, people might have been surprised by how little intimacy they actually shared, getting to know each other and becoming good friends before lovers. It was mostly for (Y/n)’s benefit. Nejire could tell they were nervous. She tested boundaries occasionally, but mostly left the major decisions to them. It was something (Y/n) appreciated, but they didn’t like how it seemed like Nejire was walking around eggshells with them. They wanted her to be able to speak her mind on the subject too.

“Thanks, but I’m not going to do that.” I’m not going to let you treat this relationship like it’s your job. That’s not fair.”

“Hm? Why not?”

“You shouldn’t have to bend over backwards to tend to my insecurities. I’m not a kid. This’ll never work out if I make you tend to me like one. Not saying I won’t ever take you up on the offer ‘cause I still can’t believe you have been having a good time with me, but I’m gonna work on it.”

(Y/n) sighed so harshly, it might have been misinterpreted as a huff or a grunt to a passerby, but Nejire smiled and her eyes gleamed. She did a quick little turn and hop, switching her seat to the root (Y/n) sat on and gave them a hug.

“You’ve come so far, I’m so proud!” She gushed, “You even said what you were thinking without trying to explain it away afterwards. You have been working on yourself this whole time, see? You just doubted yourself and tripped up a little bit.”

“Hmph.” A more honest grunt this time, they turned their head away from Nejire in an attempt to hide their flustered expression.

“Hey, hey! Don’t hide your cute face from me! Why are you doing that? We’ve been dating for months, don’t I get to see the cute expressions that no one else may see?”

It was the least they could do, they supposed. For as energetic as Nejire was, she had also been very patient with them and their troubles with love. They turned their head back towards her and she swayed happily from side to side, moving them around with her.

A shy, quiet chuckle slid past (Y/n)’s lips like the chuff of a far-off train. It gave Nejire pause, but she kept her arms around them and continued to smile, only now her eyes held a question, undoubtedly related to what had made that cute little laugh bubble free. (Y/n) understood, and in a brief show of bravery, they quickly kissed Nejire’s cheek.

“You bring it out of me,” they mumbled, slipping out of Nejire’s now slack grip so they could stand, “No one will believe you if you tell ‘em, so don’t even try, especially not Togata, got it?” They added without any venom.

Nejire shot to her feet to return the brief kiss with a few of her own, unable to stop at just one, before stepping back with her hands laced behind her back, the biggest smile of the day on her face from watching (Y/n) try to keep their cool.

“I wouldn’t dream of it!”

[ilocqua]

I wanna absolutely pamper the shit out of Diluc Ragnvindr.

And not in a spicy way or anything, like I genuinely want to make this man relax to the fullest, like housespouse shit, yanno?

(WRITTEN IN FIRST PERSON, IK SOME PEEPS DONT LIKE THAT SO HEARS JUST A SMALL BEFORE YOU READ <33)

I'm a huge fan of domestic crap so I wanna wake up before him in the morning, admire his angelic sleeping face for a moment. I wanna sweep his crimson red hair out of his eyes and place a kiss on his forehead, watching his eyebrows twitch but ultimately- he ends up staying asleep.

I wanna go down in the kitchen where it's usually empty because it's so early in the morning, the maids were nice and really sweet, but sometimes they felt like an overwhelming presence in the manor.

I wanna silently make him a nice breakfast (I can't cook for shit, let's just pretend here) filled with the nicest homecooked meal ever, a plate of waffles topped with berries and drizzled with maple syrup; all set on a cute little plate. For his drinks... maybe a glass of milk? I don't think he would like to drink grape juice when he wakes up fresh in the morning so a simple glass of milk accompanies his crunchy breakfast.

I wanna put all that in a cute little tray and carefully balance it in my hands as I walk up the stairs and to our shared bedroom, I open the door and Diluc is sat there peacefully on the bed, rubbing his eyes.

His scarlet locks are let loose from their usual low ponytail, it's now fluffed up and messy from the fact that he just woke up. His bangs frame his face perfectly, capturing his defined facial features like a painting by a God framed by a beautiful, elegant mounting.

He's dressed in a crumpled, white button up and a pair of loose. black pants. His eyes are unfocused as he adjusts to the sunlight invading the room.

Archons, he was perfect, so so perfect.

I walk over to him slowly, settling the tray on his mahogany desk- usually filled with paperwork of all sorts, now arranged neatly and cleanly, I walk close to him before pressing a soft kiss on his forehead, smiling against his pale skin as I cup his face in my hands.

I mutter a small-

'Good morning, my love~'

As I gaze into his eyes with nothing but love entwined into my lovestruck gaze, I watch as a soft blush blooms on his pale face as my chaste kiss flusters him.

He mutters a quiet-

'Good morning, dearest...'

As he looks around, he notices the tray on his desk, the sweet smell of syrup entered his senses as the shine of the little berry toppings arouse his attention.

'You made that?'

He asks, I nod as I brush my hand delicately down his long crimson hair, placing another sweet peck on the crown of his head. He stands up before slowly treading over to his desk, he takes a seat on the velvet chair before he picks up a fork and takes a bite of the waffles.

His eyes light up from the sheer, savory taste of the waffles and maple syrup melt into his mouth like a perfect combination. He bites down on one of the berries as it created yet another satisfying gustatory image in his mind.

He hums in delight as he resumes eating, he didn't say much as he ate but I already knew that he loved it just from his reactions alone.

I smile in admiration, a soft flush on my cheeks as I watch him enjoy something that I made. Domestic moments like this were few and far between, so I made it a note to cherish them whenever they did happen.

I stood up from my place on the bed, picking up a brush from the bedside table before I walked over to where Diluc sat, brushing his hair thoroughly and carefully, doing my best to not pull or tug at any tangles.

The silence of the moment was perfect, there was no awkward air that surrounded us- it was just our presence, enveloped in the calm atmosphere of the early morning sun.

[dweetwise]

[Riconti] Holiday spirit

Happy holidays riconti fandom! Please accept this gift of festive fluff 🥰 Rated G | 3.2k words | ao3 link

Felix still feels strange being back in his hometown. 

The Coburg market square is bustling with life at the annual Christmas market. Felix was never an avid visitor before, but this time the nostalgia is kicking in full force: the smell of street food and mulled wine, the glow of string lights and the big Christmas tree, and even the obnoxious holiday jingles make his chest ache with familiarity. It’s almost like he never left Coburg in the first place.

Except for the fact that one Ace Visconti is here with him.

Ace has a mug of Glühwein in his hands and is blowing on the hot beverage, his eyes eagerly drinking in the busy market. It’s a couple degrees below zero and a gentle snow is falling, but despite Felix’s best efforts to the contrary Ace is thoroughly underdressed for the weather. He has neither gloves nor anything to cover his head, and his windbreaker jacket and pants might protect him from the nonexistent wind but not the late-December temperature.

But even if Ace must be freezing, he hasn’t complained once.

…Unlike Felix, who complained first about the long line to the sausage kiosk, then about the awful apple punch they made the mistake of trying, and then about a family of stupid tourists blocking the street. But that’s neither here nor there.

Ace’s nose and ears are already red and Felix should probably be annoyed at him for not dressing properly, but instead he finds it oddly endearing. He doesn’t know how long it will take Ace to get used to German winters after decades of sun on the west coast of the USA, but today is clearly not that day.

A group of teenagers pass them on the street and briefly pause to stare at Ace—who’s currently browsing a selection of wooden crafts—and a few of them giggle and continue on their way. Felix really can’t blame them: the bright, clashing colors of Ace’s outfit stick out like a sore thumb in the sea of muted winterwear in grayscale and neutral colors. Looking at the neon pink and green for too long would probably give Felix a migraine; but then again, he only has his past self to blame for deciding to flirt with a man who combined a leopard print shirt with purple sequin pants.

Felix smiles to himself. If awful fashion sense was a dealbreaker for him, their relationship would probably have lasted less than twenty-four hours total.

“What’re you grinning at?” Ace asks, having caught him staring.

“You,” Felix says bluntly. “And your outfit that is horrendously unfit for this weather.”

Ace scoffs. “It’s not that cold.”

Felix simply smiles. “Come on,” he urges, “We should try the crepes next.”

Ace obediently falls into step beside him. Felix’s hand twitches in a familiar urge to touch—born out of countless times of patching up injuries, pulling each other up on their feet, and sitting by the fire leaning against Ace in quiet solidarity—but there are too many people here and too many eyes on them.

Of course, it doesn't help that Ace is wearing the equivalent of a big flashing sign saying “Look at me!”

“You know, I wasn’t too sure about this market when you first told me about it,” Ace says while they walk. “But it’s actually really cozy with the snow and lights and all. And any event that boils down to drinking wine and eating good food? I’m sold.”

“I’m glad,” Felix says. “It was never my favorite, but I wanted to show you. And even I missed it, after…”

He trails off, and something in Ace's eyes softens. 

"I love it. And I'm glad you wanted to take me here," Ace says. And then, because getting him to be earnest for more than five seconds is like pulling teeth, he grins and adds, "Even if I'm pretty sure all these 'handmade Bavarian' souvenirs came straight out of a Bangladesh sweatshop."

Felix grimaces. He always hated how the tourist crap seemed to overtake more and more of the event each year.

That being said, he still stopped to buy a terribly overpriced and absolutely hideous knit hat while Ace was busy refilling their Glühwein mugs at another stall. It will make a nice Christmas present to match his questionable excuse for a winter jacket.

“So how exactly are crepes German or festive?” Ace prods.

“Because the French can't take credit for mixing milk with flour and throwing it on a pan,” Felix huffs. “It's bad enough they got to name them. Pretentious little shits.”

Ace smirks. “I’m telling Élodie you said that.”

“Trust me, she has much worse opinions about Germans.”

“Ah, sweet neighborly rivalry,” Ace sighs. “I can't wait to meet the Lyras again so they can try—and fail—to argue that Brazil is better than Argentina.”

He looks at Felix expectantly, clearly waiting for him to agree.

“I wouldn’t know,” Felix says. “I’ve never been.”

“Maybe you should do something about that, then,” Ace says. His voice is playful and his smile casual, but he’s still looking at Felix a little too intently for it to be a joke.

“You just have to tell me when and I'll be there,” Felix says and fully means it.

“Yeah, right,” Ace snorts. “I bet Lauren would love for you to go touristing in the middle of a big project.”

“You’re vastly overestimating my importance in the company,” Felix says. “Lauren survived five years without me. I don't think a week will even make a dent in her schedule.”

Ace regards him silently: he knows that Felix took on much less responsibility upon returning to work—“Richter & Golder” was practically just “Golder” these days, and Felix was grateful Lauren even wanted him back on the team at all—but Felix suspects it’s another thing to see it in practice.

“You'd really come to Argentina?” Ace finally asks.

“Of course,” Felix says. “But only if you want me to.”

Ace beams up at him, then throws his head back and groans dramatically. “Oh, god, my sisters will eat you alive. Please don't learn any Spanish before the trip. Or Italian. You know what, just wear noise canceling headphones whenever they’re around. Actually—”

Felix watches Ace ramble with a smile. He’s leaving for Buenos Aires in just a few days to spend the holidays with his sisters and their families, having reunited with them after their escape from the Entity. For as much as Ace sang the praises of Las Vegas and America for the last few years, he doesn't seem to care much about going back to the USA compared to Argentina and Germany.

“—though, full disclosure, if you don't like Dulce de Leche I'm breaking up with you,” Ace says.

Felix chuckles. “I suspect I won’t, but I’ll be sure to lie for your benefit.”

“That’s all I ask,” Ace says with a grin.

They’re finally coming up to the crepe kiosk and Ace turns to look at the menu. It’s a little strange to imagine not being with him for Christmas, seeing as they’ve—admittedly not by choice—spent every holiday together for the last few years. Even if said holidays mostly consisted of Dwight in an elf costume distributing firecrackers and styptic agents around the campfire.

But Felix knows they both have more important places to be. Ace hasn’t spent quality time with his family in decades, and Felix's number one priority for the foreseeable future will spending every moment he possibly can with his own new family:

His five-year-old daughter, Klara.

Felix's ex-girlfriend has invited him over for Christmas eve to have dinner and open presents together. It will most likely be indescribably awkward—especially with both his ex’s parents and her new husband there—but they’re all doing it for Klara, who seemed very excited about the idea.

Or possibly just about the extra presents.

Regardless, Felix immensely respects his ex for not only managing to build a stable home for their daughter when he disappeared, but for being honest with said daughter from the start. Even when she was furious with Felix for seemingly abandoning them, for five years she told Klara stories about her other father building houses and showed her pictures of him. And when Felix finally showed back up and tried to pick up the pieces of his broken life, he got to meet his daughter for the first time and she immediately recognized him.

Felix clears his throat before washing down the sudden lump in his throat with some Glühwein. He’s not sure what he's done to deserve so many incredible people in his life—the survivors, Lauren, his ex, Klara, Ace—but he’s determined to be a man they can all be proud of.

“Che.” Ace nudges Felix's side, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Hm?”

“Is the crepe guy okay?” Ace whispers, leaning closer to Felix while staring at the shopkeeper frying a batch of crepes. “He just chucked three whole chocolate bars on a crepe and wrapped it up like it was normal.”

Felix snorts, his somber mood instantly elevated. “It's a Kinder bar too. That has to be some kind of crime against gastronomy.”

“I know.” Ace only pauses for a beat before asking, “Should we get one of those?”

Felix doesn’t even hesitate. “Of course.”

Ace shoots him a lopsided smirk. “You really do have a soft spot for tacky things,” he says, then turns to place their order.

Felix bites his lip to suppress a thoroughly dorky smile. Just five years ago, he would have scoffed at the mere sight of children’s street food and retro windbreakers, all to preserve the image of a man nobody even liked. And even if the motto of “be yourself” first seemed like an impossible task after half a lifetime of hiding everything genuine about himself, it’s been slowly but surely resurfacing—through trials, friendships, and having someone by his side who never judges.

Felix doesn't have to filter himself with Ace. Even his worst foot-in-mouth moments only earn teasing remarks in response and more often than not end in both of them laughing. Ace doesn’t take offense to Felix's bluntness and he more than pulls his weight in the playful bickering that has become one of Felix's favorite pastimes.

And Felix knows the feeling goes both ways: all their years together have chipped away at Ace’s compulsive lying just like it has for Felix's play-act. Ace has never had to avoid talking about his past of crimes and addiction and betraying people for money, because Felix doesn't judge him by who he was before, but rather by who he is today.

Just a few days ago, a seemingly harmless question about whether Felix could chip in for Ace’s plane tickets derailed into a serious conversation, with Ace sitting Felix down and making him swear to never give him a significant sum of money or gift him anything valuable that could be returned. There was always a part of Ace that would crave the thrill of gambling and the risk of relapsing increased significantly if he had easy money lying around—no matter if he knew said money was meant for rent, bills, or a plane ticket.

Felix was silent for a long time after that revelation. Ace tried to joke it off and desperately switch the subject, but after Felix quietly stood and pulled him into his arms, Ace just slumped against him and exhaled a long and shaky breath. Neither of them had to use words, because the meaning was clear:

Thank you for trusting me. Thank you for understanding me. Thank you for being here.

“Biological weapon acquired!” Ace strolls up to Felix with a grin, holding a cardboard plate with a crepe and two forks sticking out of it.

Felix probably shouldn't be making heart eyes at a man in full neon carrying a glorified candy pancake, but he does. 

Ace steers them to an unoccupied table and hands Felix his fork. They proceed to eat a few bites in expectant silence.

“It’s good,” Ace says, clearly surprised. “Why is it good!?”

“It’s way too sweet,” Felix complains. He still keeps eating the crepe.

“Let’s just agree that after three mugs of wine we’re too drunk to know better,” Ace says.

“Speak for yourself, you lightweight.”

“Well excuse me for not being six-foot-two and born with German beer in my veins!”

Felix snorts and proceeds to almost choke on his bite, then bows his head to wheeze quietly instead.

“That’s it, no more Kinder for you,” Ace says, holding the plate protectively against himself. “I should have known that shit is like crack to Germans. No wonder it’s banned in the States.”

Felix wheezes harder and has to lean against the table for support, his shoulders shaking with the force of his laughter. He dimly registers someone muttering, “What the fuck is wrong with that guy?” in German, but he really can’t bring himself to care.

When Felix has somewhat collected himself and looks up, Ace is smiling smugly at him around a forkful of crepe.

“Drink?” Ace asks, pushing his mug closer to Felix’s empty one over the table.

Felix nods and accepts the item, and in quiet understanding they turn to stand side by side and look over the market while Ace polishes off the crepe and Felix finishes his drink.

He enjoys these moments of silence between them just as much as the usual back-and-forth or long conversations at the campfire. Felix knows that they still have a lot to figure out when it comes to adjusting back to a normal life, with the logistics and long distance and Felix's daughter. But instead of the existential dread that’s plagued Felix for most of his life, these days he only feels a deep calm when thinking about the future.

Things have been so much easier when there’s a constant in his life, something that’s not dependent on Felix's career or family name. And every time Felix wakes from a nightmare or starts second-guessing himself on whether all that horrible shit really happened, he just has to listen to Ace snoring next to him or touch one of the numerous lucky charms he insists on showering Felix with.

Ace is tangible proof that Felix went through hell and came out stronger for it. He’s been Felix's anchor for years and even when he’s across the world, Felix still feels just as grounded as he does with Ace right by his side.

Ace glances at Felix and catches him looking—Felix has been watching him for quite some time instead of observing the market—and he quirks an eyebrow as he tosses the empty plate in a nearby bin. 

“You’re staring again,” Ace says. “Are you gonna keep nagging about my jacket?”

In response, Felix simply leans closer, then hesitates and searches Ace's eyes. Understanding dawns on Ace’s features before his mouth splits into a bright smile, and then he’s grabbing Felix by the lapels of his jacket and pulling him down for a kiss.

Ace’s nose is cold where it bumps into Felix’s cheek but his lips are warm, stained with chocolate and mulled wine and soft against Felix’s. Felix cups Ace’s head and sinks into the gentle press of their mouths, simply enjoying the closeness.

Felix doesn't care if people are watching. He doesn’t care if someone sees him with a man or thinks they’re being inappropriate. He doesn’t care that they still have many challenges to face. For the first time ever, Felix knows exactly what he wants to do with his life and he’s going to do everything in his power to get it.

Starting with kissing the man he loves in the most crowded place in all of Coburg, apparently.

Ace is trembling when they pull apart. Felix could flatter himself by thinking his kissing prowess was enough to make him weak in the knees, but the truth is that the weather must finally be catching up to Ace.

And he still won't admit it, the stubborn idiot.

“You know,” Felix starts, brushing his thumb over the stubble on Ace’s cheek. “There’s a pub I like just down the street. Why don’t we go and warm up for a little while?”

“Oh, thank god,” Ace groans and thumps his forehead against Felix’s shoulder. “I’m fucking freezing and this supposedly famous wine really isn’t all that great.”

“You could have told me you were cold.”

Ace pulls back enough to give him a defiant stare. “And listen to your ‘For the love of god, Ace, I told you five times to bring a scarf’ all the way home? Not a chance.”

“I would never,” Felix says. Ace huffs a disbelieving snort, and Felix can’t suppress his smile as he continues, “Because I told you at least ten times and also asked you to bring gloves, and a thicker jacket, and—”

“Okay, okay!” Ace exclaims. “Christ, the word Besserwisser was probably coined just for you, wasn’t it?”

Felix chuckles and reaches into his pocket for the knit cap he bought earlier. He was planning to wrap it and gift it properly another day, but practicality usually trumps sentimentality where Felix is concerned.

“Here,” Felix says, holding out the item. “Merry Christmas.”

Ace stares at the hat while most likely silently judging both its cliché reindeer pattern and questionable orange-brown color scheme.

“It’s traditional Bangladeshi reindeer,” Felix deadpans.

“Thank you,” Ace finally says slowly, then puts on the hat. “How do I look?”

Felix tries not to laugh as he takes in the sight. The cap somehow looks even worse when it’s worn because of the pattern stretching and distorting. The price tag also still dangles loosely from the too-big pompom on top, and the muted orange and brown somehow makes the neon of Ace’s jacket pop out even more obnoxiously.

“Fucking hideous,” Felix concludes.

Ace barks out a laugh and Felix chuckles too. Despite Felix’s harsh words, they’re both leaning into each other, Ace’s arms wrapping around Felix’s waist and Felix gently tucking a few errant strands of gray hair into the cap.

“Good,” Ace says, then looks up to meet Felix’s eyes with an overly exaggerated pout. “Now hold me, I’m cold.”

Felix smiles and slings an arm over Ace’s shoulders to pull him even closer. “Come on. It's not far.”

Ace lets himself be led to a quiet pub around the street corner, insisting on paying for their drinks while apologizing for not having anything to gift Felix in return. Felix maybe gets a little sappy and confesses that just having him here is the best gift of all, and in response Ace tugs him into a corner booth and kisses him longer and deeper than is probably appropriate.

And despite the cold and crowd and fashion hiccups along the way, this year’s Christmas market will remain Felix’s favorite for a long, long time.

Or at least until next year when they no doubt visit it again.

Thanks for reading! 💞 Ace’s outfit is from his leaked winter skin, because it’s tacky and I love it. (Minus the headpiece. What the fuck is that beard.)

[jeniffercheck]

How about a Love confession with a bit of angst?

-prompt-

my fingers slipped and this turned into a little one-shot, thank u for the prompt & enjoy!! also on ao3<3

It’s four in the morning and Shiv is in Karolina’s kitchen.

It’s smaller than her own, more lived in, and less sterile, and Shiv finds it bizarre that she and Karolina have become something entangled. In some ways, they’re the same. Wealthy, assertive women who seek power and prestige only to receive pushback and shame. In most ways, they’re different. Karolina is ice, but Shiv is fire. Karolina understands limits, and Shiv doesn’t know when enough is enough. Karolina is good, Shiv believes that, that Karolina is genuinely good, and Shiv is just bad.

It’s a back and forth, not unlike anything else in Shiv’s life but it couldn’t be more unique. It’s structured and clear. Karolina keeps Shiv where she wants her, and Shiv does everything she can to break out. Karolina doesn’t play the same games that everyone else in Shiv’s life does. She’s careful and calculated, sure, but she’s honest. She takes what she wants and she rejects what she doesn’t.

Which is maybe why it hurts when Karolina says the words.

“I don’t know why you haven’t just signed the papers yet.”

She’s wiping down her counter as she says so, too late to make coffee and too tired for wine. For some reason, the next logical step in her brain is Clorox. Clorox, and the belief that Shiv should just throw the towel in and get the divorce. Just sign the papers.

“That’s easy to say when it’s not you who has to sign them,” Shiv says.

Her eyes are still puffy. The tailgate ended and she felt so sick to her stomach that she didn’t know what else to do, where else to go. She certainly wasn’t going to sleep in the same fucking apartment as Tom. Not with those words still lingering, muddying up the air with their ferocity and viciousness. Their honesty.

Karolina hasn’t asked what exactly happened yet. Shiv thinks she can tell, what with the unusual crying and the fact that Shiv’s wedding band is currently being toyed with in her hand like a pair of Craps die that she’s getting ready to throw, always with a 100% chance of snake eyes.

“Maybe when Mencken wins, they’ll outlaw divorce and you’ll never have to make that choice,” Karolina says. “Become a slave to Tom forever, transfer your bank account to his. Do you think you’ll have to get his permission to sign off on a check?”

Shiv thinks it should make her laugh, and Karolina has a stupid smile on her face that really makes her want to, but the attempt at comfort only makes her feel worse. The fact that she’s sitting here, just told that she’s incapable of love and that she’ll never be a good mother, and Karolina’s just awake, wiping off her counter with bleach and a paper towel while trying to make her smile at four in the morning because that’s what Shiv needed her to do.

She doesn’t know where to draw the lines because a part of her still thinks that Tom would do the same. That if she went home right now and got on her knees and bore her soul to him that he’d take it back and he’d forgive her. That he’d believe her even though he never should have in the first place.

How do you choose between two people who you think would both give you the world if you let them?

“Do you think I’m capable of love?” Shiv suddenly asks, looking at Karolina. She searches Karolina’s eyes for her instinctual reaction, the sign that she wants to say no but is going to say yes, just because she thinks she should tell Shiv whatever it is that she wants to hear, but Karolina’s eyebrows just twitch and her joking smile falls, and she cocks her head with a great, big sigh. Shiv suddenly feels dumb for asking at all. She knows what the answer is. At least, what it should be.

“I think you’re more capable than you’d like to admit,” Karolina says, which, makes Shiv pause because it’s really not the answer she was expecting to hear. Or maybe even the one she wanted to hear, if she’s being honest. She looks away, unable to stand the intensity of Karolina’s gaze. She thinks back to what Marcia had said to her, now seemingly so long ago.

He made you a playground, and you think it’s a whole world.

But how can it not be the whole world when it all feels like this? When love and death and birth are constantly gripping at her and pulling at the seams from every angle. If she isn’t at the center of the whole world then why does it always feel so grave? Like every step she takes and every choice she makes creates quakes that follow her until everything just topples, crushing her in the aftermath.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she admits. “Why I can’t just feel it like everyone else.”

“You do feel it, though. Don’t you?” Karolina says, eyes suddenly sad. “I don’t think you’d care this much if you didn’t.”

Which makes Shiv feel overcome because it’s the first time anyone’s acknowledged her feelings as caring. Because Karolina is right, Shiv cares so much, maybe too much at times. She cares so much that it’s easier to pretend that she doesn’t, because if anyone knew how desperate she was for the things she wants they’d use it against her and then she’d have nothing and no one and there wouldn’t be a single thing she could do about it. If she keeps everything at arm’s length, then they can never get too close to be pushed away. If everyone is mad at her then that means they’re not indifferent towards her. It’s survival.

“I don’t want to only hurt people,” Shiv admits, tears returning, but she thinks about what she really means. Maybe she can’t fix things with Tom, but maybe she doesn’t have to ruin things with Karolina before they’ve even really started. “I don’t want to hurt you like I hurt him.”

Karolina moves around the counter towards Shiv and hugs her from behind. Shiv grabs onto Karolina’s arms like she doesn’t think she ever has before, wondering if she can just memorize how it feels to have her close so that she won’t fuck it up again. That she’ll choose not to push her away.

“Then don’t,” Karolina says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. She pulls Shiv tighter, and Shiv leans into it. She wants this. She really thinks she does.

“I—I think I could let myself love you,” Shiv says, voice shaking. “I don’t know. I’d like to try.”

She waits painstakingly for Karolina’s response, every millisecond feeling like the pit in her stomach is getting wider and wider. She closes her eyes as Karolina kisses the top of her head, voice soft in her ear.

“I think I could let myself love you, too.”

[zephfair]

All's Fair in Love Chapter 2

I've been so blocked creatively with 0 energy, loads of family crap, still unemployed, health woes etc, and I literally haven't been able to finish anything since I wrote this. I felt really badly that it seemed so OOC for Adam, and it bothered me so much I had to write another scene.

I hope this makes it better! And maybe this will break my block so I can finish something else! Also, great big thanks to @iammistressofmyfate for talking with me about all this!

This is rated G except for swearing because Ronan.

Adam lay awake watching the digital clock jump through the digits from 2 to 3 a.m. There was enough ambient light in the bedroom for him to stare up at the ceiling and try not to make eye contact with any of the rooster accessories that decorated even the bedroom of the Pleasant Valley Bed and Breakfast.

He sighed and gave up, rolling onto his side. There was a broken slat in the window blind behind the bed, and a ray of streetlight shone in, right onto the back of Ronan’s head.

It allowed Adam to see the top of his short curls, the darkness of his shaved undercut, on down his neck to where the spiky swirls of his tattoo started. Adam’s stomach did another nervous somersault like it’d been doing all night.

“Lynch,” he whispered, reaching out and stroking his knuckle softly down the soft, shorn hair.

There was no movement. Ronan’s rhythmic breathing continued.

“Lynch,” Adam whispered a little louder, running his fingertips down Ronan’s neck.

When that didn’t get any answer, Adam said, “Ronan,” in his normal voice and squeezed gently where Ronan’s neck and shoulder met.

That made Ronan mumble. “Ro-nan,” Adam said again, louder, and Ronan finally grumbled groggily and twitched away from the renewed squeezing.

“Whaaa?” Ronan snorted himself more awake and rolled onto his back. “A’um?”

“You awake?” Adam propped himself up on his elbow and smiled down at his boyfriend.

“Naaaaw,” Ronan’s yawn showed off most of his teeth and reminded Adam of a cat’s wide yawn.

“Ronan, I can’t sleep.”

“S’ok, mmm,” Ronan rolled as near as he could to Adam and snuggled into him, slinging an arm over his waist and tucking himself close against Adam’s chest.

Adam now felt like he was the cat, struggling to get away from an unwanted embrace. “Ronan, no. Just, please, wake up, I need to say something to you.”

That seemed to get through Ronan’s sleepy mind. “What? No. What?”

Adam sat up and propped himself against the headboard while Ronan went through flailing his way out of sleep and out of the sheet to sit up beside him. Adam could hear his fast breathing and see his wide eyes, but when Ronan reached for the bedside lamp, Adam grabbed his arm.

“No, leave the light off. I have to say this and it’ll be easier in the dark.”

“Shit. Fuck. Adam, please don’t break up with me like this. Please wait until I’m awake. And dressed. I can’t handle it like this.”

“Whoa, whoa, Lynch, no! I’m not breaking up… why would you even think that?” Now it was Adam’s turn to sound panicked.

“Because I fucked up today and ruined everything for you, and I should’ve known better—”

“No, Ronan, that is what I want to talk to about, but not because of you. Because of me. Shit. We both just need to calm down for a second.”

Adam was holding one hand over his own racing heart, and he saw Ronan reach for him but stop. That really hurt. Ronan had never been sparing or shy or timid with his affection since they’d gotten together during filming of the Bachelorette.

And now in one afternoon, Adam had ruined it.

His mother had always told him he had a way of being mean and selfish that made other people dislike him, and now, for once, he believed it.

Adam held his hand out toward Ronan, and Ronan met his eyes first, as if to ask if it was okay, and then he took it, bringing it to his lips and kissing it. Adam had to shut his eyes to get his train of thought back.

“Ronan, I can’t sleep because I fucked up today. I’m sorry. I acted like a dick and I ruined your day.”

Ronan didn’t answer when Adam finally opened his eyes he saw Ronan was still breathing hard.

“Lynch, are you okay?” Adam was truly worried now.

Ronan shook his head. “I don’t get what’s going on.”

That made Adam huff a little laugh and lean over and kiss his bare shoulder. “That’s ‘cause you just woke up.”

“You woke me up,” Ronan grumbled, seeming a little more like himself.

“I did,” Adam admitted in total honesty. “Because I can’t sleep because I upset you today and I didn’t do a very good job of explaining why. Sometimes I just get in my own head and I can’t, or won’t, talk about it.”

Ronan snorted, “Yeah, no shit.”

Adam ignored his instinctual reaction to argue and said, “Sometimes I know that I’m not a good communicator and it can hurt a relationship.”

“We met on a fucking reality TV dating show, what kind of communication do you expect?”

Adam didn’t rise to the sarcasm. “I know I don’t always properly communicate. But this… I was wrong. I should’ve told you when you first brought up the idea of coming to Virginia. I never wanted to come back here, but I didn’t know that your Barns were this close to my old hometown until you said Singers Falls. And it’s just shitty luck that Blue was from Henrietta too. I always swore I’d never return once I got out of here.”

Adam had to pause for a deep, steadying breath. Ronan brought his captured hand to his lips again, and Adam’s exhale was decidedly shaky.

“And you were sweet, yes, sweet, shut up, to try and assure me that we wouldn’t be out around town. And you were—thank you for trying to protect me, Ronan. Like you always do,” Adam couldn’t help a little smile at Ronan’s head shake.

“I thought I’d just grit my teeth and bear it, just get by like I always did when I lived here.”

Adam had to stop and shut his eyes for a second. Ronan dropped his hand to scooch over and put his arm around Adam’s shoulders, which wasn’t comfortable for either of them, but Adam appreciated—not for the first time—that Ronan enjoyed physical comfort.

“I should’ve told you all about this shitty place,” Adam admitted quietly. “And my shitty family. And the shitty people I knew from here. And while I haven’t heard from them because I cut myself off a long time ago, I’m sure they wouldn’t have liked what I said on the show, and especially the fact that we got together. I was never out here, but believe me, I heard enough about what they think about men like us.”

Ronan pressed his lips to Adam’s temple, and Adam sank a little more into the embrace.

“I’m sorry I was a shithead today. Part of it was fear and anger and just frustration that I had to come here, to Henrietta in general. It wasn’t the fair in specific. My family never went to the fair, my parents never would’ve spent the money, and I was always working or studying, no free time and no friends I would’ve wanted to go with.”

Ronan kissed his head again and shushed him.

“It’s all right, Adam. I get it. I understood what you told me on the Ferris wheel. And it’s OK. I had really great times at the fair as a kid, with my family, but once my parents died, we never went back. Never wanted to.”

“Ronan,” Adam started but Ronan shushed him again.

“I have bittersweet memories. And I thought maybe we’d make new ones, together. And we did. I can keep my family memories still, and I’ll never forget today either. It wasn’t all bad. I just felt like I was disappointing you. I should’ve told you what I wanted to do before and given you the choice.”

“No, you wanted to surprise me. You were trying to be fun. I was angry that I was overdressed and then I was angry that I never got to go to the fair before then I kept thinking what if I run into someone from high school. I let my anger and my stupid fear and all those worries take over.

“I’m just sorry. I was mean to you when you wanted to do something nice for me. It could’ve been fun, eating all that junk food then getting sick on the rides. The games, though, they’re still rigged to make you lose.”

Ronan nudged him, hard. “Well, you’re my hero for winning Wilbur the stuffed pig. Leave it to you to beat even a cheating game.”

Adam’s little laugh was definitely wobbly. Ronan nudged him more gently.

“I don’t understand what’s wrong. I thought we’d worked this out before we left the fair.”

Adam talked directly into Ronan’s shoulder. “I was afraid I hadn’t explained myself clearly. I guess I’m overthinking and I can’t sleep.”

“That’s because you didn’t wear yourself out running around trying to tackle a fucking pig in the mud. And also those damned roosters are out there. Watching us,” Ronan gestured toward the rest of the bedroom.

“Do you want to go back to the fair tomorrow? Well, today,” Adam asked suddenly.

“Nah. We’re spending the day with the Terrible Trio, and I’m sure they have better things planned.”

Adam’s stomach clenched despite himself. “What if they want to go running around all over town? Ronan, I don’t think I’m up to that.”

“First of all, there’s literally nothing to do in Henrietta so fuck that. Second, fuck them if they try and make you go around town. I’ll make an excuse because, honestly, I don’t wanna do that either.”

“I’m mean,” Adam said in a very tiny voice.

Ronan snorted. “Well, yeah, you are. That’s one of the things I love about you. That and your flat ass.”

“You’re a real sweet talker, Lynch.” But Adam straightened up a little, starting to feel a lot lighter and a lot more relieved.

“I know I am,” Ronan said, watching Adam carefully. “Do you think you’ll be able to sleep now?”

“I don’t know.”

“I can wear you out,” Ronan suggested, waggling his eyebrows so Adam would know it was a joke.

Adam started to respond but surprised himself with a jaw-splitting yawn instead.

Ronan sighed dramatically. “I guess it’ll have to wait until morning. Now lay down.”

Adam did, without protest, and Ronan arranged him until he could spoon up behind him, draping himself over Adam in a way that would have been unbearable if they hadn’t had the AC on high.

“And we’ve got to fix that blind, I can’t handle the light so early in the morning,” Ronan sounded grumpily like his usual, middle-of-the-night self.

“We’ll only be here one more night. But I’ll fix it for you,” Adam promised. Ronan nuzzled his neck in thanks. Adam allowed himself a little smile as he relaxed into Ronan and finally found sleep and peace.

[agentsquirrelsgotrobots]

IT'S ALIVE!

Here's a little morsel from the mafia au that i have been neglecting.

Blades found Chase smoking on the roof of the firehouse. Not just in his holoform, but in his bot mode too, the cygar in his fingers translating into a vape in the hands of his smartly dressed holoform, his white tank top and black, calf length pencil skirt not passing Blades's notice.

"Chief insisted on changing your holoform again buddy?"

"No, in fact, I changed it because I wanted to."

"Hm. At least he's giving you that. I've been trying to try out a femme holoform since I married my love. She isn't a fan. She's just a lot more picky about that than I was expecting. I know she is bi, but I just can't figure out what she likes!"

Chase smiled. "Let me guess, you keep wearing black or a pilot's uniform whenever you show off a new customization?"

Blades looked sheepish. "Yeah?"

Chase turned off the cygar and gave Blades a look. "You and I both know that Dani doesn't like it when you step on her toes and rarely wears dark clothing out of uniform. May I recommend wearing a bright sundress or maybe something casual? A pastel, low v neck t-shirt, some neutral flats, and jeans might be enough to convince her. I know how much you like your femme holoform."

Blades smiled. "Thanks, Chase! I gotta go change!" Blades ran back to the lift, giddy with excitement.

Chase shook his head. He and Blades really didn't know what they were getting into when they promised themselves to their partners. Chase put the cygar away and took out his promise medal, the shiny black metal engraved with prayers and promises in both English and Cybex. The date carved near the top seemed both so close, yet so far. Two summers. The wedding was two years away. 27 months, 7 seasons, and Cody's 14th and 15th birthday away. Heatwave's third death anniversary would be less than a month before, and it was two months after Blades and Dani's fourth wedding anniversary, and three months before the bots' five year anniversary of coming to earth.

It didn't feel real.

None of it did.

Chase heard the roof access door open, a shiver shooting down his spine as he recognized his fiancé's steel toed boots at the first step.

"My siren, what are you doing up here? I thought you had kicked that filthy habit." Charlie's voice was sweet, but Chase could hear the bite hidden in his words. Chase didn't have to turn around to know that his smile didn't reach his eyes. He felt Charlie rake his holoform's hand, rubbing it and wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

"It felt like a special occasion, love. Me and Blades were speaking about our upcoming nuptials."

"Ah, I get it. I had pre-wedding jitters while planning both my prior weddings. Just get rid of that crap. You're not Boulder or Graham, and any partner of mine will be smoke-free, especially around my son."

"Yes, sir." Chase said, stiffening as he realized his mistake. Charlie didn't like being called sir, at least, not by him.

"Chase, what did I say about that." Charlie said, digging his fingers into Chase's bare shoulder.

"You don't like that. I know, I apologize, I forget myself."

Charlie's hand went back to rubbing Chase's shoulder, moving to his neck, the ghost of Charlie's fingers making Chase's bot mode twitch.

"Well!" Charlie said, pulling away from Chase. "I got to pick up Cody from school and Graham from the lab. Are you coming with, or am I taking the miata?"

Chase straightened up and dismissed holoform. No way is he letting Charlie take his little pet project over him AGAIN. He hated that car with a passionate fury, and Charlie knew it. "I'm coming with you. Do you want to take the lift with me?"

Charlie smiled, getting exactly what he wanted. "Of course, my siren, I would love to."

[ashdreams2023]

Hi there, could you possible do a Loki x reader who just like tries to self sabotage their relationship at times because she’s scared of Loki leaving her but Loki makes it clear that he loves her and will never leave her? ❤️ (sorry if that’s like too specific or even weird idk)

This some crap I’ll do because I have trust issues 😀

Sabotage

Your eyes looked between you and him, he sat reading one of his books while you read a magazine.

It was the perfect silence but that aching feeling to say something killed you, with the page you stopped at staring at you, a bunch of stories about some holiday relationship scandals.

"You know" you opened your mouth which got his attention immediately "I really don’t like the lifestyle we have right now" he blinked at you then closed his book, marking the page before.

"What would you like to change?" your eye twitched.

"I don’t like that we live here with everyone else and I want a place to myself without anyone to bother me" you crossed your eyes, waiting for him to say something but he only stared before resting his chin on his palm.

"Anything else?"

You bit the inside of your cheek hard "I also don’t want us to have any kids or have neighbors or having to pay rent" you spat "also I would much rather you stop working with the avengers" that would get a reaction from him you hoped.

Loki calmly stood up and walked up to where you’re sitting and leaned down to your eye level "why the sudden change love?" You rolled your eyes, feeling irritated with how calm he’s taking the whole thing.

"I’m serious Loki and if you can’t take me or what I say seriously just leave me already" you stomach felt heavy, Loki didn’t lose eye contact.

"No" he said.

You stared at him confused "no what?"

Loki sighed pressing his forehead against yours "no I will not leave you, even if you ask to through myself in an active volcano" you opened your mouth then closed, you felt choked all of a sudden.

"You’re being stupid, why would anyone stay with someone like, asking all of that like all in one go" you said.

"You could ask of me the world I would make it kneel for you, so stop trying to make me push away because I’m never gonna do that you understand?" You arms dropped in defeat.

"Yes…"

"Now now, stop with the pout and come cuddle with me while I look for a new place for us" your eyes went wide and you threw your arms around his neck.

"I wasn’t serious! I like it here" Loki laughed, a fully belly laugh, the type to give you butterflies and make you hold him tighter.

"As you please my love"

[talesofurbania]

Snippet #3.2 - Alleyway Meeting

I got several anons requesting a continuation, so here it is! I’ve split it into 2 parts because it ended up being pretty long. Enjoy!!

YE OLDE ALLEYWAY PT 2

‘When do you think he’ll wake up?’

‘Dunno, he’s been out for three days at least. Plus he was pretty beat up when we got to him, Viv.’

‘We should have been there - why the hell weren’t we there? They nearly killed him, Kane!’

‘You think I don’t know that? God, I hate to think what would have happened if Hero hadn’t called us.’

‘Hero - yeah, I dunno about them.’

‘You didn’t think they were telling the truth about him?’

‘I don’t trust them if that’s what you’re asking - not the way Villain does.’ There were some soft huffs of laughter.

‘Well, they called us when they could have turned him in. After what happened, I’d say they’re ok in my book.’

Villain groaned and forced his eyes open. Everything was throbbing and pulsing with the same low bone-deep agony, and he knew he had a crap tolerance for pain (something Viv teased him for constantly) but damn it hurt so bad he thought he might actually cry. If he could make a sound, of course, after his throat had been bruised from the tight grip of Carl’s men. 

The hushed whispers and murmurings instantly quieted and five worried faces bobbed up in his field of view. Villain’s lips twitched, then twisted into a grimace. 

‘Knew you all cared about me’, he croaked, receiving five eye rolls and a few relieved grins.

‘Never mind boss, he’s fine!’, Other Villain called to Supervillain, who heaved himself up from his armchair with his cane, grunting. ‘Good to have you back, boyo.’

Villain winced as the grin he was sporting pulled at his cut lip. 

‘Where’s the lecture about how I should have called for backup and everything once things got ugly?’

Supervillain turned, smirking. 

‘Well son, I thought I’d let Viv hand it to you this time.’

Villain glanced sideways to see Other Villain glaring at him. Crap. 

                                                            ⁎

Hero leaned their forearms onto the rail, taking a deep breath as they gazed at the dull grey clouds smeared over the sky, illuminated by the orange glow of the city lights below. They weren’t really sure what they were expecting after saving Villain- because that’s what they did, they saved him - but after two months of radio silence from the League, Hero reluctantly accepted the fact that they felt…disappointed. As though they’d been expecting something- but what, though? A ‘thank you for doing your job?’ Hero shook their head a little. Get a grip. Like the League of Villains would ever thank you. Or contact you in the first place. 

‘My dearest saviour.’ 

Hero’s head snapped up and they spun around, heart suddenly hammering. 

‘I see you’ve finally healed, then.’

Villain just grinned and twirled, his stylish coat flaring out around his knees. 

‘Restored to my former handsomeness, never fear darling.’

‘Restored to the smug bastard you are, I think.’

Said smug bastard’s smirk didn’t disappear. 

‘And here I thought you genuinely wanted to see me.’

‘Oh yeah? How so?’

‘Sweetheart, you’re standing on an unsheltered rooftop, completely out in the open, at night in your civilian clothing.’ Shoot. 

Hero huffed and turned back to the view of the cityscape, feeling Villain approach behind them. 

‘My team told me you were the one who tipped them off.’

‘Mmm-hmm.’ 

‘Can I ask why?’ The question was genuinely curious. 

‘And don’t say you were just doing your job, because I know for a fact that your contract actively discourages helping villains.’

[dontfeeltoohot]

Request for maybe Eddie dealing with like dust allergies while in hiding at the boathouse? Like Steve and his other friends come over to find him just not having a great time allergy wise.

This one got away from me, whoops. Like...lots more sneezes than I think any other fic I've done for our boy. Hope you guys enjoy!

XXX

Eddie is not having a great time. On top of being wanted for literal murder, and watching a girl he thought he could be friends with brutally die in front of him, his stupid allergies are acting up. Henderson and his friends have been by and somehow convinced him that what he’s seen is vaguely normal- if you can call interdimensional, real life dungeons and dragons shit normal. And it’s not even normal, it’s stuff they’ve fought before, gone through before. Who knew Nancy Wheeler and Steve Harrington were actually as badass as Henderson has been saying all along. 

Sniffling wetly, the curly haired man rubs his nose with the inside of his shirt, pulling the neck hem up against his face. God everything itches. His eyes are wet and starting to get red from the irritation. Eddie knows it’s the dust that’s covering practically every inch of the storage area, not that he would clean it either. It probably hasn’t been used in years, not when Rick lives out here by himself- he can’t really see the guy going out to Lovers Lake for some fishing on an old pontoon. 

“ih’NGKkt! h’KGt’uh! hih’Gdtch’uh!” 

Another sniffle that he’s sure only makes him inhale more of the crap that’s making his nose go crazy. It crosses his mind to maybe radio to the others and ask for allergy meds, but that’ll cost more money that he’s already running low on- because obviously he’s paying these guys back for anything they pick up for him, he’s not a charity case. 

When his nose starts running again, Eddie’s aware he’s going to have to use his bandana. He’s been putting it off, even though he knows it’s silly. His bandana is usually just for looks, to let others know that are in on the secret just exactly what he likes. But now, as he sits on a milk crate against the wall, he has no choice. Slipping it out of his back pocket, the guitarist wipes at his nose, which only serves to irritate it further. 

Eyes fluttering shut, nostrils twitching over and over, the rims quivering with ridiculous allergic anticipation, Eddie presses the cloth up against his nose, slick from allergies. 

“ihnGKstch’uhew! ih’KTsch’uhew! hh! hh’ihdtch’UHEW!” 

The last one bursts out of him, more vocal than the rest. Back when he was little he can remember having the most dramatic, loud sneezes, but as he got older he’d reigned them in for the most part, unless he’d been around something like fur or dust or leaves for a while. 

“F-Fuhhck…” Eddie rubs at his nose, small circular motions with his palm and bandana, trying to get at this unrelenting itchy feeling.Though it’s all throughout his head and sinuses, the tip and right inside his nose seem to be the worst. He’s not exactly sure how long he sits there just rubbing and snuffling, but as soon as he stops, he’s inhaling jaggedly, nose running as if it’s been waiting for this moment. 

“hih’IHKSCHuhew! ah’IKTtsch’uhew! ihh’GgkschEW! hh! hHH! Oh my gohh! …FUCK!” 

Hitching desperately, Eddie rubs his nose when the sneeze backs down, cussing. And god damn it, he really just wants to be able to breathe without being shut down thanks to his completely stuffed up nose. Finally, he blows his nose, wincing at just how disgustingly thick it sounds. There goes his bandana, he thinks exasperatedly. Fuck, fuck, fucking fuck. Fuck this end of the world bullshit, and fuck Jason fucking Carver for wanting to beat the shit out of him. FUCK. 

Leaning his head back against the wall and keeping his bandana close, Eddie coughs a little and rubs his eye with his unoccupied hand, mouth open so he can breathe. A minute later, he hears a car, and his whole body tenses. Please for the love of Jesus don’t let it be Carver and his lackeys. Hands trembling a little, the long haired man shoves his bandana into his pocket and crouches down, quickly making his way to the window to look out and see if he can spy anyone. Eye’s peeking out, he scans the area but sees nothing. Had he imagined it? 

With his guard now let down, body deflating, Eddie sits on a dusty box, regretting it instantly. Dust billows up enough he can physically see it in the air. He tries not to breathe, but it only lasts so long, and he doesn’t have enough sense in him to move, apparently. Scrambling for his bandana, he pushes it tightly to his nose, feeling his nostrils twitch and flare. Mess dribbles down into the cloth and the twenty year olds eyes shut, jiggling his septum to try and get at the tickle. 

“huhIKSchuhh! aah’IHgtchuhew! hh’ihnkstchuhEW!  Jesus H Christ..nngh…ihksTCHuh! hih’idtzch’uhew!”

“Woah dude, you okay?” 

“Bless you!” 

Eddie jumps, eyes shooting open. He keeps his bandana pressed against his nose, snuffling into it. He uses his other hand to rub his left eye. 

Harrington, Henderson, Buckley, Mayfield and…Nancy Wheeler? are inside, all watching him. The guitarist can feel heat rise up on his cheeks as he wipes away as much mess as he can, sniffling before he puts the bandana away in his leather jacket pocket. 

Not quite knowing what to say, Eddie steps forward a little, noticing they’ve brought grocery store bags. 

“Right, we brought you some food!” Dustin smiles widely, and the curly haired man smiles before sniffling again. 

“Tha’gks.” 

Everybody winces, including himself. His voice is beyond wrecked, congested and nasally. He knows his eyes are probably blood shot too. 

“Are you okay? You sound…” Wheeler says quietly, trailing off. 

“Uh, yeah,” Eddie clears his throat and tries to ignore the buzzing tickle in his sinuses. “Just allergies is all,” he admits quietly, not loving the fact this shit makes him vulnerable. 

As if the universe wants to laugh at him more, the tickle only gets worse. He’s trying to listen to Henderson say something about what all they got, but it’s drowned out by Eddie focusing on grabbing his bandana before he gets all gross in front of everyone. He barely manages to press it to his face and turn away before- 

“h’gKTt’uh! n’GXxt! hkGTuhew!” 

Not sure how he’s kept the sneezes from being loud, he lets out a long breath, ears ringing and sinuses throbbing. New congestion is starting to run down onto his upper lip. He barely gets a breath in before the next round of ticklish sneezes. 

“ihhGKtuhew! hh’KTduhew! ihkschhuuUhew!” 

He tries to muffle them, to keep them held in, but the dust is starting to really fuck with him, and Eddie doesn’t bother to look over at the others, knowing full well he’s probably gross as hell like this. His hair is in his face, and finally, after blowing his nose and steeling himself, Eddie turns back slowly. Mayfield and Henderson are messing with the bags while the older three are watching him again. 

“So…I think maybe we should go back and get some tissues and allergy meds if Eddie’s going to be staying here,” Robin says, eyebrows knit together.

[hinatastinygiant]

Chapter Eleven

In A Dream

WARNING! SEXUAL CONTENT

Pairing: Oikawa x Fem!Reader

previous | next | summer nights

The second you get outside Oikawa's house, your mouth drops right open. You slowly follow his car through a huge gate that opens upon his arrival and into a garage able to hold about six cars. How does he have a house somewhere he only plans on staying for a short time? you wonder. 

When you step out of the car, Oikawa extends his arm out to you. You accept his hand and allow him to lead you through a large set of double doors and into the house. He then gives you a quick tour of the biggest house you've ever been inside of your entire life. One room alone most definitely costs more than the rent you and Lainy pay combined!

"This place is incredible," you tell him, awestruck.

"Glad you like it," he smiles. "Do you want to see the upstairs, too?"

You hesitate for a moment as you think of what your answer is going to insinuate. However, you inevitably agree and follow him up a huge set of stairs and down a long hallway. He opens a ginormous door into a bedroom bigger than you ever could have imagined.

"Holy crap," you mutter to yourself.

"What do you think?" he chuckles.

"You must be some kind of billionaire. How can you afford this even though you're only going to be here for a little while, uh, if you don't mind me asking."

"Oh, well, you know that American team I played when you watched our game? I'm actually good friends with those guys. Actually, my whole team is so we're here quite often," he explains.

You feel your face heat up at the thought that he's around a lot. What does that mean for you? And has he seriously been so close to you all this time even before you met him in Brazil? That's insane!

Oikawa walks toward his bed and holds up a picture frame from his nightstand. Though you're standing a bit further away, you can tell it's a photo of him when he was younger and an even younger-looking boy.

"This is my cousin, Takeru," he tells you as you walk his way. "I'm pretty close to him and he moved here, too, so it's a pretty sweet deal having this house."

He then hands you the photo so you can inspect it yourself. "This is kind of a lame picture to keep by your bed. Takeru looks like he hates your guts," you chuckle. "No offense."

"None taken," he laughs in agreement. "Takeru said almost the same thing when we took that photo, actually."

He then sits down on the bed and you take that as your cue to place the picture frame back where it belongs. You then sit beside him with a new question hot on your tongue.

"Why did you tell me you were leaving if you knew you planned on coming back here?" you ask curiously.

"Because I didn't think you'd want to have the thought of me with a house so close by stuck in your head. I didn't want to make you feel worse about me than you did. I know you only agreed to meet up with me because you thought you'd never see me again," he admits.

"Why didn't you like then and say it was a rental or something? What made you change your mind?" you continue to pry, despite already having the answer you're looking for. You know he truly cares about you and your feelings, but it's killing him inside to think that you no longer want anything to do with him. However, if he was to ask, you could no longer say that that's the case.

"Because I still hope," he smiles sadly as he carefully places his hand on your cheek. "I hope you'll still love me, Y/N."

You watch as his eyebrows twitch as something stirs in his mind. He watches you cautiously for a moment before leaning in closer. You do the same, meeting him halfway to how that you want this, too.

As your lips meet his, you can feel your eyes begin to water as you flutter them closed. It feels so good to press yourself up against him again, but even better to finally begin to come to terms with how you really feel about him.

You keep your eyes shut as you straddle his lap and sit on him. You can faintly smell the cologne he had chosen to wear which makes your brain a bit fuzzy as you find yourself in a situation you'd never be in once you got on your flight back home.

Slowly, you lift your fingers to undo his tie and discard it on the bad. Once you stop, his hands reach under the hem of your shirt and he quickly lifts it off. Then it's you who pushes on his chest to lay him down to unbutton his shirt, kissing his warm skin as it is exposed to you. 

Once his torso is fully exposed and you're finally seeing those chiseled abs you feel you haven't seen in forever, you look up at him hoping he'll give you a bit of encouragement to keep going. And, in fact, he does with a smile as he quickly flips you right under him. He shrugs off his shirt and lets it slide onto the floor, only to bend down and kiss your neck as his long fingers trail down your sides. You lift your back so he can reach right around you with one of his hands and undo your bra, meanwhile the other keeps your lower back steady for him.

The next thing you know, the rest of your clothes are discarded and he's hovering over you. You think he's about to reach down to kiss you when instead he leans to the side to grab his tie.

"You know," he whispers hotly in your ear. "You always look so pretty tied up." He then ties your hands in front of you and pushes them above your head. "Now be a good girl and keep them there."

In an instant, he sinks his way down to your legs which he parts carefully, observing how your pussy opens up for him. You can feel his hot breath hover over your core as he hesitates for a moment. "God, I missed seeing you like this," he smirks as he looks up at the impatient expression on your face.

"Tooru, please," you huff, having enough of the teasing. And so, he obeys, but it's not long until he's got you talking again. Almost the second his tongue touches your sensitive skin, you let out small whimpers. But it isn't until his long fingers squeeze inside your wet cunt that he's got your eyes rolling back and you mindlessly calling out to him.

You reach down to his hair as you squirm at his touch and roll your hips into him, craving more. It doesn't take much- and would be quite embarrassing if it wasn't for how safe you feel with him- until he has you releasing all over his mouth and coating his large hands. 

Just after you finish, he swiftly pulls away and takes you by the bonds on your hands to walk you over to a large full-length mirror. Dropping your hands down in front of you, he faces you towards the mirror and stands behind you to reach around your body and grab tenderly at your right breast. You watch as he keeps eye contact with you through the mirror as he lowers his head down to your neck which he kisses rough enough to have you weak at the knees.

"Now you get to see what I see," he hums. "Just how beautiful you are... You really are so perfect, Y/N."

As he speaks, you can feel his hard cock pressed up against your backside which only makes you crave him more.

"Tooru, fuck me," you tell him, your eyes glued to his in the mirror, and he's happy to oblige. He quickly spins you around and pushes you up against the cold mirror.

"Alright then here we go," he grins as he reaches down to fist his cock as you lift up one of your legs. He then pushes right in and you wrap your arms around him, hopping into his grasp as he keeps you square against that mirror.

When he begins, he grabs your waist and rams you into the mirror as he pumps in and out of you. You're quite surprised the glass mirror isn't breaking from the way he's thrusting into you. And he grinds in so deep you can't help but mutter his names a few times as you dig your nails into the skin on his shoulders.

"I missed fucking you so much," he grunts, not even pausing a second to speak.

"I missed it, too," you whimper.

"Could fuck you every night."

When you nod back in agreement, he grips your skin tighter and slams the full length of his cock as far as he can within you. Finally, you then come crashing down in bliss, but the second you're able to catch your breath again, he hurriedly pulls out to finish on your thigh before letting you go.

"Do you want to take a shower? Or a bath? Please, it's no problem. I don't want you to leave feeling like a mess," he insists.

"That would be great, thank you," you nod in response.

After washing up, you step out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around you and into Oikawa's room where you find him laying on his bed with his eyes closed.

"Hey, do you have anything I could wear for the night?" you ask quietly, thinking that he could be asleep. However, he opens his eyes and sits up quicker than you could say anything else.

"What- you want to stay? Yeah, I got something!" he beams as he jumps out of bed.

Once you change, you slide into bed beside him under the warm sheets and finally relax. You've hooked up with him countless times but you can't remember a single one where you actually spent the night asleep beside him. You've got to admit it's nice and you don't mind the company at all.

previous | next | summer nights

want to join the taglist? Click here for more

Taglist: @thisbicc @vollkornpraline