#once the first few glory weeks are past

[hella1975]

need to know ur thoughts on phoebe bridgers day after tomorrow

too many thoughts about it usually i compartmentalise songs into ‘this hits bc it relates to real life’ and ‘this hits bc it relates to The Blorbos’ and depending what mood im in and what’s on my mind i lean towards one or the other, but oh my god???? the themes of conflict and homesickness and a (presumably young) soldier writing home???? that is so applicable to so many fandoms?? ‘and it’s so hard… and it’s cold here’ while im at UNIVERSITY???? insanity i have to skip this song sometimes genuinely

[peachdues]

TOXIC

LEVI X READER

A/N: a combination of the horny angst that’s been swirling in my head for a few days.

Listen. Do I condone what’s about to happen in this? No. Was it fun to write? Absolutely.

CW: MDNI • explicit sexual content below • toxic fucking • unprotected/raw sex • creampie • breeding kink • fucking does not solve problems • neither do babies • toxic Levi and toxic Reader tbh

This was a bad idea. Terrible; one of your worst to date.

And yet, as Levi spread you out across his kitchen counter — the counter that, until two weeks ago, had also been yours — you couldn’t for the life of you remember why every alarm bell in your head was sounding off, begging your body stiffen, to reject the man lowering himself between your thighs, his gray eyes glowing nearly silver with desire.

“Just can’t stay away, can you?” His lips are hot and silky as they slope messily across your thighs, and his fingers push aside the hem of your sundress to make way for him. “Because try as you might, you know no one will ever be able to fuck you like I can.”

Ah. That was why.

Because you and Levi had broken up. You were no more; a past concept, a memory.

In the end, your three-year relationship died not in a fiery blaze of glory, but in cold resignation. He’d sat stoically at the kitchen table as you’d confessed that you could no longer stomach being second or third or whatever place behind his true passion — work — and that it was time for you to put yourself first, for once, since he wouldn’t.

The only sign of his emotion has been his fists — clenched so tight that the skin of his knuckles had gone white.

I’m done. I have nothing left to give you, Levi. Not when you only ever take and offer nothing in return.

He’d tried to argue once you announced your intention to move out that night. He’d fought to convince you to wait until morning, to put away the small suitcase you’d packed with your most essential belongings, to sleep on it — on the decision overall. But you’d known that if you’d stayed, you would have changed your mind — would’ve let him change your mind, and he’d known that, too. So you’d held firm, turned your back on him and forced yourself to walk out of the door to your apartment, suitcase in hand.

You hadn’t intended to return, and it seemed like he’d accepted it. He’d even gone so far as to mail whatever of your belongings you hadn’t managed to pack to your parents’ address. So though you spent your nights staining your pillow with bitter tears, your heart feeling like little more than a misshapen lump of meat barely beating in your chest, you’d at least gotten what you thought you’d wanted: a clean break.

Until he’d texted you that all of your mail was still being sent to your — his — address. He’d offered to pay to have it forwarded to you, but when you saw how much that would have put you in his debt, you’d begrudgingly told him you’d stop by on your way home from work and pick it up.

Really, you knew better; should have known better, at least.

And perhaps your logic would have won over your desire, but then Levi’s fingers tug your underwear to the side and his mouth latches to your core, and all the chatter that constitutes your higher reasoning fades to an indiscernible buzz in the back of your skull. The moment you feel something hot and wet prodding your entrance, your mind whites out without the hope of coherency returning any time soon, as Levi begins to fuck you with his tongue.

With a keening cry, your legs seize around his head, trapping him between your thighs. Your hands shoot to grip his hair, desperate to find purchase; to find anything to help keep you tethered here, to reality, rather than risk floating away in clouded bliss.

But Levi is too committed to tearing down the wall you’d carefully spent the last two weeks building, brick by brick. So as his tongue pumps steadily into your core, he shifts, his fingers digging into the meat of your thighs as he presses you harder against his face. His jaw works furiously and when his teeth graze against your clit, you lose whatever last vestige of control you’d clung onto.

You’re sobbing through clenched teeth but utterly helpless to stop your hips as they begin churning and grinding against his mouth. Levi hums in approval, and throw your eyelashes, you spot the way his pupils dilate, chasing away the cool silver of his irises and replacing them with something black and hungry.

“Atta girl,” he praises between his thrusts, and the vibrations of his mouth against your heated, sensitive flesh nearly makes you drool. “For once in your life, stop fuckin’ thinking.”

He swirls his tongue around you entrance one more time before he replaces it with his fingers, plunging two into your cunt and curling them. He finds that rough patch on your innermost wall with a near frustrating ease.

It’s infuriating to know that the person you know can’t give you what you really need is somehow the only person who knows exactly how to give you what you want. And, judging by the faint smirk pulling at Levi’s lips they latch around that bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs, you know he can see your resolve crumbling under his feverish mouth.

“You don’t even remember why we were arguing, do you?” He jeers between harsh sucks at your clit as you continue to writhe and cry out for more. “You just wanted to cause a scene; make me sweat a little.”

You want to fight back; you want to tell him that he’s wrong, that you’d meant it when you’d said your relationship had run its course, but he won’t give you the space to do so. Not when he presses his face firm against your center and rocks his head side to side, reducing any protestations you might have had to pitiful whimpers.

“You’ve got my attention, sweetheart. Let’s see if you know what to do with it.”

Levi slips a third finger into your core and you come undone. With his teeth grazing your clit in time with each measured thrust of his fingers into your heat, you shatter against the kitchen counter, hard enough that stars dance in the corners of your eyes.

“That’s my girl,” Levi groans as he continues to lap at your sensitive and overstimulated flesh. “You’re always so fuckin’ pretty when you cum.”

His praise, coupled with the way his mouth continues to work at your cunt prolongs the waves of your release, until your legs are trembling against the smooth granite of the countertop, and tears are gathered in your eyes. Your walls spasm weakly one final time and then it’s over, your limbs limp and your brain little more than a puddle of liquid between your ears.

Levi steps back and the heat in his eyes is unmistakable; you know, by the way his eyes turn from steel to molten ore that he wants more; wants to take and take and make you bend to him.

You shouldn’t do it; you know you shouldn’t. You know that what’s happening between you is a manifestation of everything that was toxic about your relationship. Levi, always needing to be in control, who only listened when you were at your breaking point, but could never fully give you what you needed. You, who made far too many excuses, who let him dictate the norms of your relationship because it was easy; being with him was easy, until it wasn’t.

So no, you shouldn’t give in; you should stand firm.

You reach for him anyways. “Levi,”

That’s all it takes; a pleading whimper of his name, your hands outstretched toward him, and Levi pounces. His mouth crashes against yours, and his kiss makes you feel whole even though you know he’s tearing your resolve apart.

And you let him; you let him, because you’d sworn you were going to spend your life with him. You believed, without a moment’s hesitation, that Levi was the one for you — the one you’d share the remainder of your days with, the one with whom you’d create and share a family. It was all you’d wanted, and Levi, to his credit, had assured you it was what he’d wanted, too. At least, he did; once.

And, as Levi’s hands slide under you to peel you off the counter, your legs locking around his waist with practiced ease, you know it’s what you still want; he’s what you want.

For all your desperation to have him, Levi is just as eager for you. He pivots you away from the counter, lips still moving heatedly against yours, only to drop you both to the cold tile floor, spreading you out beneath him as his lips begin trailing down your jaw, your neck. He’s too impatient to carry you to the bedroom, his hands fumbling with the buckle on his belt so he can have you then, now, on the kitchen floor.

“‘S been too long,” he pushes the straps of your sundress from your shoulders, yanking the bodice down to expose your. He groans at the sight of your bare breasts, and idly you wonder whether you made the subconscious decision to forgo your bra when you dressed that morning, in the event you’d end up here, under him.

His mouth closes around one pert nipple and you think it was the best decision you could have made; for nothing could possibly feel as right as the sensation of his hot mouth and silken tongue swirling around your soft flesh, nipping and sucking his devotion into your skin.

Your chest is heaving as his hands stroke down your body, pushing and pulling the skirt of your dress up, exposing the lower half of your body. Your legs are still little more than jelly thanks to the intensity of your previous climax, but you manage to wrap them around his hips all the same, clenching in an effort to bring him closer.

“Fuck,” he growls, and he imparts one final nip at your breast before he pulls back, his hands hurriedly shoving the waistband of his trousers and briefs down his hips, just far enough that he can pull his cock free. Your stomach flutters at the sight of him, ramrod hard, his tip already leaking with his desire.

He’s just as desperate for you as you are hopelessly in need of him.

Your eyes trace back up from where his length stands hard against his belly back to his face. A pretty pink blush has flushed his cheeks, spreading down his neck and chest, and his eyes are glassy with want.

“Levi,” you plead with a soft moan. “Baby, please —“

Baby. You hadn’t called him that often while you were together, but when you had, it was because you’d been so filled with affection — with love — that his name hadn’t been enough.

It was a slip, but it doesn’t go unnoticed by your ex. In an instant his body is covering yours, and he’s moaning into your mouth as one hand ensnares itself in your hair. Between quick kisses, you swear you hear him whisper your name against your lips, before his tongue swipes back in and steals your breath away.

He breaks your kiss to shove a hand between your bodies, gripping himself at his base and giving his length one, solid pump. You shift, spreading your thighs wider, ready to take him and feel whole once more.

He lines the tip of his cock up with your entrance and pauses. Impatiently, you buck your hips forward, trying to take him in, but he twists back just far enough that your wetness can only brush against him, a mockery of how you truly need him.

Levi ignores your howl of frustration. “If you want it, then tell me you’ll come home.”

Your teeth clench hard enough to crack, but you won’t give in; not yet, at least.

He’d been right; you wanted him to sweat a little, and damn if you weren’t going to try and bring him to his knees, if only for a bit. At least until he had you back in the palm of his hand, begging for a crumb of his attention.

So with a gritty determination that borders spite, you lock your ankles against his backside and haul him into you with all your might.

“Jesus — fuck!” His yell echoes off the gleaming stainless steel appliances as you force him fully inside you, unwilling to let him win this battle so soon. He falls forward, an arm flinging out beside your head to catch himself.

Your boldness pays off, for Levi is forced remain still, panting hard and his eyes screwed shut as he adjusts to the sensation of being fully buried in your warmth after so long. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the way the muscles in the arm needed by your head ripples under the force of his restraint. Slowly, his eyes open and the darkness in them makes you pulse and contract around his length, your stomach fluttering in anticipation.

Your mouth falls into a perfect “o” as he begins to move once more. He sits back on his knees, back straight, and his hands come to rest on your hips. He tugs you up just enough that your backside rests against the tops of his thighs, your back forced into an arch away from the floor. His gaze drops to where you’re connected, your base pressed flush against his, and the sight of himself embedded so deeply inside you makes the fingers on your hips tighten.

Slowly, and with careful precision, he withdraws his cock from your heat until only his tip remains lodged in your entrance. His eyes flick to yours and then he slams back into you, forcing your breath from your lungs. He repeats the movement again and again, until your lower lip is wobbling and your fingers are sinking into the corded muscles of his forearms, unable to do anything but cling on as he hammers into you.

The stillness of the kitchen is soon disrupted by the telltale sounds of skin slapping against skin, punctuated by your breathy moans and Levi’s pants. Between the sharpness of his hips and the cold tile of the kitchen floor, you know you’re likely to walk away from this with bruises, but you can’t find it within yourself to care. Especially not when Levi is moving like this, each of his thrusts as punishing as they are calculated.

“What’d I say, huh? No one can fuck you like I can.”

Levi more often than not was a soft lover. Kind; generous; prone to taking his time with you, so much so that it was nearly painful, usually leaving you in a tearful puddle on your mattress, begging him for more.

But now, he’s trying to remind you of what you’re leaving behind by leaving him; he’s punishing you as much as he’s begging you to stay.

The thought makes you moan out, wanton and desperate, and the walls of your cunt clench harder around him.

His hips snap harshly against yours, choking off the sound in your throat. “So come back home,” and though you know he means for it to sound like an order, his eyes betray his urgency, his desperation to confirm that you hadn’t really meant it; that you’d given up on him in a moment of stress and exhaustion. “Quit being a brat and come home.”

You want to tell him you can’t — that the door had closed on your relationship the moment you’d pulled it shut behind you that day, but try as you might, the words will not form. All that spills from your mouth are broken utterances of his name, and even those flatten out into pathetic whines as Levi’s callused thumb finds your clit and begins to work, determined to haul you to the edge of your sanity and shove you over.

Your legs spasm around his waist as you begin your ascent to that sacred precipice. Your eyes are rolled back, your head thrashing from side to side as the pleasure, white hot and searing, mounts within you, that coil in your belly winding tight with every impassioned movement of his body against yours.

Distantly, you feel his hold on your hips tighten, and you can feel his thrusts growing sloppy. You know it’s only a matter of time before one of you succumbs to your release.

He growls your name, the last syllable tapering off in a small whine. “T-tell me — fuck — tell me where.”

Your eyes fly open and meet his, sobering awareness washing over you like a tidal wave.

Only once in the entire course of your relationship, did Levi ask where he was allowed to cum: the beginning. He’d asked the very first time you’d slept with him, legs in the air and over his shoulders, and once you’d made it clear you were on birth control, that had been the end of the discussion. You’d known that if you’d changed your mind, all you’d needed to do was tell him, and he’d adjust. Truthfully, however, you’d not minded the possibility of your birth control failing; you’d been content to let whatever happen, happen.

You’d told him as much, and he’d told you he shared the sentiment.

But that was then; this time, he’s giving you an out. A way to make sure this remains a one-time thing, a moment of weakness between two people too lost and broken to want anything different.

Levi’s eyes widen as the silence stretches between you, and his hips slow until he stops moving all together. The friction mounting where you’re connected is nearly unbearable, and you know the only way to relieve it is to give him an answer — whatever it may be.

This was it; the decision that will make or break you both. For once, he’s out the ball entirely in your court, and whatever comes after this moment of bliss — or frality — ends depends entirely upon you.

“Inside,” you barely manage to squeak, eyes wide and locked unwaveringly with his.

Even Levi hesitates. “Y/N —“

“Inside,” you repeat with slightly more conviction. “Cum inside me, Levi.”

“Your pill?” His hips have already resumed their pace, and you can feel how he’s grown harder at your insistence. But though his body is already moving in accord with your demand, his eyes look ready to bulge out of his skull when you manage the smallest shake your head.

“Inside.” You beg again, and you dig your heel harder into the steely muscle of his backside, limiting how far he’s able to pull his hips back; to pull out at all.

Because damn if he isn’t the only person in the world with whom you could fathom facing the consequences of fucking raw without even the safety net of the tiny blue pills still sitting at your pharmacy, waiting.

“Fuck,” he growls through clenched teeth, a tendon in his neck throbbing. “Fuck, you want me to give you a baby? So fuckin’ be it. As long as you’ll stay.”

He shifts over you, planting one foot on the ground so he can use his thigh to pin one of your legs back and to the side. His hand shoves under your other thigh, mimicking the position of your other leg as he mounts you, his full weight pressing you harder into the floor and keeping you spread wide for him.

Gone was the calculated precision of his earlier thrusts; now, Levi only presses his groin firmly against yours as he begins to rut, each rock of his hips pushing his length impossibly deeper into your slick warmth.

A cracked moan of his name signals that the blunt tip of his cock has brushed up against that spot within you that Levi knows will have you coming apart in minutes. And so, with a feral gleam sparking to life in his eyes, he shifts himself to press the head of his cock firmly against it, his hips rolling hard enough into you that you begin moving in time with him, your hips lifting up from the floor only to be pushed back by him as he works.

His balls are heavy against the underside of your ass as he continues to rut into you. You know he’s close when you feel him begin to twitch inside you, and the anticipation of being filled by him — so hot and sweet — makes the walls of your cunt clench harder around him.

If you thought you were a mess before, the way Levi mounts you on the floor has you nearly screaming with pleasure, so electric and blinding that all sights of the kitchen fade to white, and your eyes flutter shut.

But Levi won’t allow you to check out; not now, not ever.

“Look at me.” His free hand grabs your jaw in an attempt to force you to meet his eyes. You want to give him what he wants, but it’s far too difficult, what with the way yours are glued to the back of your skull, a thin line of drool leaking from the corner of your mouth.

“L-Levi,” you try and plead, to explain. But he has always demanded more of you than you knew how to give.

“Look at me.” His fingers squeeze your cheeks, insistent. “If you want my baby, then you’re gonna look at me while you cum.”

He’s doing it to prove a point — to prove that he still has control over you, over whatever it is that remains between you. And you, helpless against the whims of your heart, let him have it, because you love him.

Fuck. You love him.

You force your eyelids open to meet his punishing stare, and then his lips are crashing down against yours in a fiery clash of lips and teeth as both of you fight to consume the other. But you lose first, breaking your kiss to cry out as your climax slams into you with the force of a freight train, knocking your breath clean from your lungs.

It’s powerful; the most powerful orgasm you’ve had in memory, one that sends your back arching sharply up from the cool kitchen tile below, and pulls a howl of Levi’s name from your mouth.

You’re still straddled among the clouds of your pleasure when Levi succumbs to his own. His body tenses for a moment and then he’s coming undone, his hips giving one last, mighty push before he explodes.

He cums with a strangled groan that he silences by searing his mouth against your neck, his teeth sinking into your skin as he pulses within you.

You don’t try to stop the pleasured grin that forms on your mouth, nor the contented hums which vibrate in your chest as you hold him close to you, savoring the feeling of being warm and full of him.

You know you might regret the decision later; but there, spread out across his — your — kitchen floor, Levi’s full weight bearing down upon you as he continues to flood you with his release, you can’t help but feel that maybe this wasn’t the toxic choice at all. Perhaps this is simply a manifestation of everything that is good in your life.

Good. That’s what you decide to tell yourself as you feel Levi’s lips press sleepily against your neck. This is good; this is right.

Because this — he — is your home.

[lxvvie]

More goofball shit featuring your faves. This time it revolves around this scenario: your lover is away, you're winding down for the day, and it's that time of the week when you do your face mask. They FaceTime you (or you them, depending), you answer with the mask on, and... reactions may vary. Or something like that.

Capt. John Price - The old man is actually nonplussed about it, if only because you got him the first time he talked to you with your mask on and he damn near had a heart attack. Dropped his cigar in his lap and everything.

Gaz - "Hey, love—oh, shit—!" The call disconnects and you're laughing your ass off. You got him back for pranking you and made damn well sure you were in the dark before you answered him.

Alex Keller - He was tired and wanted to send his love before he got some shut-eye for a bit. Then he saw you and was jolted back awake. Kinda. What really happened was that he spent the next couple of seconds looking crazy as shit and wondering if that was really you. Got his confirmation when he heard your voice. Hell yeah, his ass needs some sleep.

Soap - Kinda sulks in Golden Retriever because he would really like to partake in the goodness that is skincare with you because he really needs to de-stress, his skin isn't doing too good this time around, and you're wearing one of his shirts—how could you tease him like that?! Sulks even more when he finds out you're using the Aloe Vera mask this time, too.

Ghost - You know that one person who you FaceTime and y'all just spend a few minutes looking at each other? That's you and Ghost. His mask is up past his lips so you see the stubble—god, you miss the way it brushes against your inner thigh—and he's just... staring at you. Placidly. And you're staring at his lips him. Not-so-placidly. "Nice mask, lovie," Ghost breaks the silence, and you: "Better than yours, Simon?" He snorts good-naturedly, "Not even close." Cheeky bastard.

Alejandro - Has one of the most anti-climatic reactions ever. Doesn't even miss a beat with whatever it is he's doing and tells you to get some much-needed rest. Also mentally makes a note to take you up on your offer of getting a face mask once he gets home.

Rudy - Stops himself mid-laughter. Tries to hold it in. Busts out laughing. This was after he was startled because how else was he supposed to deal with the nervous energy? "What's so funny, Rodolfo?" Oh, shit, he knows that tone—

König - König.exe is in overdrive because you're using the sheet mask he bought for you. You can't see the goofy smile but you see the way his eyes crinkle. He'll be riding this high for a couple days, give or take. You'd give a smile in return but with the way the mask is practically plastered to your face...

Horangi - He's the one who bets that you'll fall asleep with it on. Bullshit. You were just resting your eyes because you had to keep it on for 20-30 minutes.

Graves - Doesn't even bother to react because he's seen you with a face mask on more often than not. Does pull this stunt though: "Say hey to the guys, darlin'. Wish 'em luck." And there you are in all of your skin-care glory for them to see. You awkwardly say hey and one sweet soul awkwardly waves back. Go to hell, Phillip.

Valeria - Turns out she loves her some face masks as well and y'all could be twinning, babes. And then she finds out which one you're using. "Huh. Sounds familiar. That wouldn't happen to be one of the ones I purchased, would it?" Oh, look at the time, gotta run—

Roach - Hits you with the thumbs up. Until you tell him you got one just for him, too. Uh...

Keegan - Spends the better part of your conversation wondering if you're okay (if the way he keeps staring intensely is any indication) because there can only be one masked mess in this relationship and it sure as hell shouldn't be you. You then had to give him a crash course in skin care.

[frogchiro]

Sleazy Neighbor Graves who loves to service your car for you for not money, but the right to grope you

I was actually brainstorming about what should Sleazy!Graves be and now I finally got it thanks to you!!

cw: dub-con groping, Graves being a perv and a sleaze, while Reader doesn't outright reject him, it's still not very willing on her part :(

Graves as the sleazy owner of the dingy car mechanic shop. It's...way past it's years of glory, now shady and quite run down like the rest of this part of town but he's the only good mechanic in the area and actually knows what he's doing despite being an asshole 😭😭

With what little money you managed to save up, you bought a cheap car that would get you more safely to and from work or running errands around town, the only issue was its age and the horrid state it was in. You were so angry when the old thing started to make click clacking noises, you spend so much on it and now it does this??

So you drove to the nearest mechanic; Philip Graves was his name. You thought you'd be more accustomed to the bleak and dingy looking shop due to living here for the past few weeks and yet it still unnerved you, especially when the owner of the shop, Graves, emerged from the back and the moment his bright blue eyes landed on you the most eerie smirk appeared on his stubbled face :((

Would definitely call you things like 'sweetheart' or 'darlin' or even 'cutie' while referring to you on literally the first meeting as you tried to stutter out what was wrong with your car, his intense gaze fixated solely on you and not the car, the smirk never leaving his lips :((

Probably would offer you the 'deal of your life', telling you that if you'd be extra sweet to him (aka let him grope and squeeze here and there on those soft, broad hips) he'd give you a -70% discount on any repair of your car ever. You gawked at the bold and frankly very inappropriate offer, but did you really have any choice? With your meager earnings and all the extra costs of living you'll never have the chance to move out of here :(

Plus...maybe its the environment that changes you, maybe its your desperation or the fact that Graves is very handsome for someone his age and quite sweet in his own...questionable way or maybe everything at once but...as long as it's only touching and 'being sweet on him', maybe it wouldn't hurt that much?

[nyashykyunnie]

˗ˏˋ Sung Jinwoo x Terminally ill Reader ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

‼️[ TW: Terminal Illness, Angst to Fluff, Solo Leveling Spoilers ]

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅ Part 2 || Part 1 ♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

╰┈➤ ❝ [ We'll Try This Again, Begin Again with Zero. But This Time? I'm Never Letting You Go. ] ¡! ❞

Living felt more like a punishment more than anything. The pain he goes through starts feeling more and more deserving in his eyes. He was pushing himself to the limits when he shouldn't, he's punishing himself over a sin that wasn't really his fault.

But if anyone tells him that, he wouldn't look back at them. He would ignore their concerns.

He has a duty to uphold anyway, a duty that only he can do as a monarch.

Jinwoo has ultimately grown to be a vessel of war thanks to the system.

He didn't really care much, he already placed insurance to his name if anything happens to him.

When he's gone, his remaining family would atleast live off of something.

He has already watched his father die too thanks to the godforsaken monarchs.

What more can he loose?

Over and over again, he puts himself in the battlefield, exhausting himself on purpose, never even sleeping nor eating.

He was just fighting like a dog.

Well, dog's get much more care than what he does to himself, so does it really count?

It doesn't matte,r Jinwoo physically cannot be exhausted.

But mentally? It's a different story.

He wasn't really depressed, at least, that's what he tells himself.

He really felt numb, not exactly sad, not exactly happy either. It's as if his emotions lie in the middle.

Jinwoo felt hollow, completely hollow.

As if he were merely nothing more than a puppet in war.

The only thing that really urges him to move forward is the distant sound of his beloved's voice in the back of his head.

And soon, after he had finally murdered the Monarch of Destruction— He would be granted a wish.

Battered and tired while on the floor, he thought of what he could possibly ask from the rulers.

Thought of?

No, Jinwoo already knew what he wanted.

It was to turn back time.

To meet old friends again, to stop the gates from opening, to have his family whole again

,... To meet you again.

Yes. That's right. All of this was for you anyway.

Jinwoo recalls that memory very clearly, how you were still in the hospital bed and you two were playing a game of cards while he tells you about how he plans to be a hunter soon.

Your words were quite cute really: "I hope Woowoo becomes a really strong man!"

Those silly, innocent words of yours.

Up to this day, he still smiles lovingly whenever he remembers that.

He became this strong not just for himself and his family who needs him, but for you, the brave little soul who endured that illness—

Jinwoo fought for you

And since he is given the opportunity to correct the past, he requiested for time to be rewinded.

Right then and there, a brilliant flash of white would engulf the earth, bathing it in all it's glory. eradicating all traces of the lifeforms and shadows there is to this pathetic universe. For once in a million years, the earth was beautiful again. It looked like a star gleaming along with countless others.

Soon, Jinwoo would wake up to the sound of his baby sister's calling. Jinwoo would sit up, gently smiling at her.

It took a while for everything to sink in, for everything for him to realize that this? All of this was reality.

How badly he wanted to find you in the time he spent, for just a few weeks, he enjoyed being a child again.

Laughing with friends, screaming at others for a vanguard or healer in the pc cafe— He wanted to find you in an instant. But not right now.

He took care of some stuff first.

Your illness wont awaken until then after all.

27 years, he spent time in that goddamn dimensional crack fighting monarchs and all that crap.

When he was done, he finally came home.

Just as he set foot back in earth again, he went straight to the hospital.

April 9th of spring, where the pink petals bloomed and flew around the air— This beautiful but tragic day.

Was the first time you had collapsed and coughed out blood.

It started with your lungs, to your kidneys, to your heart, to everywhere.

You had metastatic cancer.

Coughing up blood was only the start.

And Jinwoo had come home just in time.

He didn't even ask for directions, he just went straight to your hospital room.

He knew this godforsaken place better than the doctors and nurses himself after all.

As he pried open the door, there you were, resting on the bed staring absentmindedly at the pink trees outside your window. When yopu heard the sound of the door, you turned your attention to Jinwoo.

Dazzling and innocent eyes, just as he remembers. Your youthful face, free of any sign of wrinkles. Still chubby and plump that he wanted to just kiss your cheeks all over.

As you called out his name, Jinwoo marched over and embraced you tightly.

"I'm sorry, it took me a while" Jinwoo whispers ever so lovingly as he rubs the b ack of your head affectionately.

You were confused at first, wondering why your best friend is acting all cuddly and sappy when he totally did not disappear off of the face of the earth and come out of nowhere like some sort of boogey man. But regardless, you can't help but notice the traces of tears about to break from lovely grey eyes.

When you reached over to touch his face, his voice broke and he started crying almost instantly.

Panicked and confused, you pulled him to a tight hug.

Jinwoo was crying, and in his tears and broken voice you could hear the amount of anguish he had been bottling up, the brokenness in his heart finally being revealed in the open for you to hear and see. It felt as if Jinwoo was carrying a hundred years worth of burden. And you could do nothing more than to soothe him.

"I'm sorry... Ditching you out of nowhere and acting like a sappy pup wo got kicked" He chokes as he chuckles gently, "I promise, promise, that I won't leave you like that anymore. Just trust me, okay? Here, drink this."

He hands you a weird fantasy-potion thing with red liquid inside. You wanted to deny him of it but Jinwoo stubbornly insisted upon it, as if your life depended on it.

Well, tehnically speaking, it did depended on that potion.

After making sure you gulped down every single drop of the crimson liquid, Jinwoo pressed his forehead against yours.

Mumbling ever so sweetly; "Let's do this again, okay? You and me, goofing around. I'll let you eat as much sweets as you like, I'll show a lot of pretty things. Don't worry about anything else, Woowoo will take care of it."

Somehow, you felt that Jinwoo meant that on a deeper level. You felt like right now, what in front of you wasn't just anyone else, but someone ready to lay down their life for your sake. The person in front of you, you felt as if he was going to follow you to the ends of the earth to the stars above your heads. Somehow, it feels as if his words was a promise that he would follow you wherever you go.

He already lost you once, damned will he be if that happens again.

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Don't get possessed!

You'll end up like this...

Gassy air bubbled from deep inside my soft, pudgy stomach. The smell of semi-digested beer wafted into my nose as my lips flapped in the gust of a violent belch dragging itself out. God, this body was disgusting, but this is what I did to it; this is what I did to him...

I used his cellphone to snap a pic of the sweaty slab of meat I'd been wearing for the past three years. It was the disgraced body of a former jock. Jake's stomach rumbled like it always did when I filled it to the brim. Even after all this time, it still hasn't adapted to the crap I've constantly been stuffing it with.

Swallowing yet another beer, I toss the can into the corner of his dark living room, where it collided with discarded pizza boxes and half empty milk jugs. I'd let the entire apartment overflow with the garbage generated by this once-godly body, and there was a lot of it.

The place smelled like a dumpster in the sun.

You might think this is a disgusting way to live. Well, I did too. Everything about the situation was nasty; the damp basement apartment, the stacks of dirty dishes, the closet of unwashed clothes. The entire place had a permanent stench of body odor, and I know it followed this body around everywhere.

I had never in my life felt so absolutely disgusted by my surroundings.

But that was the exact fucking point.

To explain, we'll have to flash back to a few years ago. Let me show you a photo of Jake when I first possessed him. I took this right after jumping into his perfect body...

The athlete had just gotten back from the gym. It was another perfect workout for the perfect jock, and I could feel the grit and intensity swelling in every muscle. The college footballer would normally shower after any physical activity, but I was happy to crack open a beer and bask in his sweaty glory.

I don't know if you could tell, but I am not a fan of Jake.

He was a pretentious bully at my university, and he got away with anything. I tried my best to stay out of his way, but ultimately found myself staring into the headlights of his fancy Christmas present: a shiny black camaro. The asshole ended my life while driving back to campus after one of his famous parties!

I hate to be dramatic, but I was not ready to pass away, and I was not going to let an asshole like Jake get away with my murder. The police couldn't solve the crime any more than I could console my mourning family, so I took matters into my own ghostly hands.

Jake, beautiful Jake, didn't have a single iota of remorse. He continued to get belligerently drunk, and continued to shame and ridicule anyone shorter, weaker, or fatter than him, which was just about anyone. The worst part was people let him: they allowed it because he was the strongest, the most handsome, the prize quarterback with a winning smile!

I had to do something to stop the piece of trash lurking inside his god-like body.

So I possessed him. And I did this...

When I took over, it was like putting on a body suit. As a ghost, I was invisible, so I got right behind and slipped inside. First, I shoved a leg in, then an arm, and then the rest followed.

He struggled, flailing the few body parts he still had control over, but it was in vain!

My head was the last thing to get situated, but once I slid it into place, his yelling subsided. His thoughts evaporated, and I broke in his handsome face with a wicked smile. It felt different, grinning with someone else's mouth, but I was just glad to have a body again. His was definitely an upgrade compared to my old one. The height I stood at, the breadth of my shoulders, the weight of muscular pecs hanging off my chest; it all took some getting used to.

I enjoyed living inside the jock's body, but I was on a revenge mission. The first thing I wanted to screw up was his diet!

I started shoveling massive amounts of fast-food down his throat three times a day, packing on forty pounds in just a couple weeks. Obviously, I quit going to his football practice and even dropped out from his classes. I needed the time to bulk his body up.

His teammates and coaches all reached out, but I told them to get lost. He took everything from me, so I wanted to do the same to him...

This is a pic I took of Jake's body after almost a year of controlling him. I wanted him to look and smell as awful as possible in public, so I kept him as sweaty and hairy as I could. Despite my best efforts, his attractiveness was still shining through. If anything, he looked like a hot, hard-working bear on the way home from the job, and that was not what I wanted.

This made me realize that I could destroy more than just his looks.

In his body, I marched back to campus and begged the manager of the university gym for a job. A bunch of his old friends were there to see it, so I made sure to act as pathetic as possible in the six foot hunk, practically grovelling for any position. I even dropped to Jake's knees in front of the guy, giving a lot of the gym-goers second hand embarrassment.

Ultimately, the manager offered me a janitorial position if I would shut up. I accepted it gladly, kissing the guys shoes with Jake's lips like some kind of submissive idiot.

So even though Jake's body was still attractive with the extra weight and fur I'd given it, the dingey old uniform of a janitor made sure to mark him as the bottom of the food chain. I wore it like a badge of honor, even if I never washed the damn thing. Wearing a stained boilersuit labelled 'janitor' everywhere definitely told the world what Jake was worth!

By that point, people really only saw Jake as a walking mop, if they even looked his direction at all...

This last picture is one I took after about a year of working for the school. No one had spoken to me (Jake) in that entire time, unless they needed a toilet unclogged. The man had truly lost any respect people had for him.

The overalls hide the giant gut I'd managed to grow on his torso, but you can look at the top pic if you want to see how fat and hairy I ultimately got him. He looked nothing like the explosive athlete he'd been a couple years ago.

I took that photo right before I released Jake's to his body.

The jock probably wouldn't recognize himself. He'd wonder why he was suddenly so fat and hairy. He'd be terrified by the janitorial uniform on his back and even more horrified by the layers of dried sweat swamping his skin. It wouldn't be until he realized how much time had passed that he would fully understand the punishment I'd carved out for him. I wonder how he'll react when he finds out that he's spent the last three years scrubbing floors in the gym instead of working out in it.

I wonder if he'll clean himself up and learn a lesson? Or maybe he'll just accept his fate and give in to the habits I've made for his body. I don't know, and I don't care.

I'll be long gone by then.

Honestly, I have to admit that it's kind of fun living like this. Disgusting, sure, but there's something about reveling in the laziness, the degradation, the stink. I never allowed myself to be so laid back in life. Maybe, I learned something from this experience with Jake as well. I'm starting to think I'll find a new body to possess and live in. Someone I can take over and use for my own immediate pleasures.

Maybe you're the right candidate! You've got a nice body I could jump into. You won't mind if I hop in and drive for a few years, would you? You'll be disgusted by the state I leave you in, but hey it's not like it's my body I'm fucking up, right!

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

Jake Seresin And The Unfortunate Hat Situation

jake seresin x fem!reader 3k words

summary: You’re visiting Jake’s family in Texas for the first time and so far, it’s been going well. Just that Jake may have forgotten to mention the hat rule. 

another cowboy fic because i fucking can

disclaimer: strong allusions to smut. im not kidding. this is basically straight up dirty talk all the way through

a/n: i’m warning you once about all the inaccuracies in here and thats it. read at your own risk. i have literally no clue whatsoever about texas and/or cowboys and did not have it in me to research cowboy history for hours on end, like- i tried, okay? i really did try. i know facts about cowboy hats now that i never felt the need to know (though “dont sleep with your cowboy hat on”, um... yeah? thanks? i totally would have done that otherwise) but i still do not have the information to back this shit up lmao

top gun masterlist

(yes i did have to use an everybody wants some gif. during the past week ive rewatched this film more times than i can count and i will take every opportunity i get to talk about it)

“Enlighten me”, you chuckled, spreading your arms, a bottle of beer in your right hand. “Why are none of the cowboys wearing cowboy hats? Isn’t that kind of their thing?”

You were visiting Texas for the first time - a week off of work, away from the Navy and the Dagger Squad for a bit, to meet Jake’s friends and family back home. You’d talked to most every one of them over the phone whenever he had found the time to call, but you’d never actually met them in person before this. So it had been an adventure from the start: getting on a plane in San Diego to take you to Texas where Jake had grown up, being picked up at the airport by his mother, driving two hours to the farm they owned (”You grew up on a farm?”, you’d asked when he’d told you, wheezing at the mental image of teenage Jake herding sheep), meeting his dad, being surprised by both his sisters, getting to see his childhood bedroom. 

And then, to top it off: the sound of his alarm at the crack of dawn this morning to go teach you how to ride a horse. 

Needless to say that you’d been buzzing with nervous energy for the past few days. Not that you weren’t happy - it was just all a bit much at once. 

After lunch he’d taken you into the city and you’d gone shopping for some real cowboy boots. He’d planned to take you to a bar in the evening, to introduce you to some friends. After all you only had a week here and neither of you felt like missing out on something. 

When you’d wanted to try cowboy hats in the store too, Jake had snatched them from you and grabbed your hands, pulling you close to him, telling you that you’d get one when you’d become a real cowgirl. Since you doubted that would ever happen, you’d pouted and tried to convince him with kisses and, when that hadn’t worked, half-hearted threats, but he wouldn’t be persuaded even the slightest. He’d only looked down at you with raised eyebrows until you’d caved and satisfied yourself with cursing under your breath. 

So here you were: Cowboy boots, jeans shorts and a button-up and no cowboy hat in sight. 

Actually, there was one in sight. Jake was wearing his, in all his Texan glory, laughing with some of his friends at the bar. The thing was, he was the only guy wearing his hat. There were some cowboys strutting about with them on their heads, but most of them didn’t have one - hat hair, yes, but no hat. Hence your initial question: “Why are none of the cowboys wearing cowboy hats?” 

“Shit, Jake didn’t tell you?”, Kendra - one of Jake’s only female friends here, who’d immediately decided she liked you and pulled you to one of the tables for some girl talk - let out a laugh. “No wonder it’s still on his head. We were getting worried already.” 

It was pretty clear to everyone that you weren’t from around here, so you saw no reason to hide your confusion.

“Now you’ve lost me entirely. What?”, you asked, masking your frown with a laugh. You’d been here for hardly two days and you didn’t think you’d felt as embarrassed ever before. You knew about literally nothing. At least you’d done somewhat well at horseback riding, which could’ve been because of Jake’s arms around you and his hands over yours as you - he - held the reins, but either way you were proud of yourself for not falling off and landing on your ass. 

“It’s like this: Ladies didn’t wear hats for a really long time. Cowboys wore the hats. So when you saw a lady with a cowboy hat on - that was her man’s. A sign that she belonged to him. Property shit and all.” She waved it off as if dismissing the concept. “Changed over the past few decades, of course. Better that way too. Ladies can wear whatever they want now. But the thought kind of stuck. You see a guy without a hat, he’s probably taken. You see a girl with a hat, that’s probably her man’s. And before you ever steal a hat, you should know the hat rule.” 

You raised your eyebrows. Your stomach did weird little flips as she talked. Jake hadn’t explained any of this to you. 

“The hat rule?”, you asked. Kendra grinned and leaned in, pretending to let out some big secret. 

“You wear the hat”, she said and paused for a second for dramatic effect, “You wear the cowboy.” 

You breathed out. 

“Oh.” 

Oh my ass, you thought. 

Jake hadn’t let you buy your own hat for a reason. And then he’d gone ahead and not given you that reason. What the actual fuck. 

You would’ve loved to wear his hat. You would’ve loved the thought of him claiming you like that, letting you wear his hat, showing everyone that yeah, you were Jake Seresin’s girl. But no. He’d left you completely in the dark, hadn’t let a single word slip. And he was still wearing that goddamn hat himself. 

Like a single fucking guy, not a man in a loving relationship.

Somehow, now that you knew, you were more annoyed by the fact that he was wearing it than that he just hadn’t told you at all. God, he could’ve left it at home. He could’ve taken it off. He could’ve just put it on your head without telling you why if he didn’t want to. 

And right there, that was the part you just didn’t understand. Why hadn’t he told you? He should have known you well enough by now to realise that you would absolutely adore wearing that hat. Not only because you wanted to wear a hat (which you did) but also because you wanted to wear his hat (which you did even more). After all, it wasn’t only him claiming you - it was you claiming him as well. And as horrible as the history of that hat rule was, in this present day you felt like it would only have been fair of him to tell you. You wanted to have that chance of showing him off. Of him showing you off, which he did so happily back in San Diego. 

“Hey”, Kendra said, her expression a bit more serious as she put a hand to your arm and pulled you from your thoughts. “I’m sure Jake didn’t mean to hurt you. He may seem like a bastard, but he’s actually a real sweetheart.” 

You snorted at her, nodding along. 

“He is”, you agreed. “Which is kind of why it hurts even more. I don’t get why he wouldn’t just tell me. It’s not like he’s ever been scared I’d say no to him or something.”

Kendra smiled and squeezed your arm reassuringly. 

“Try not to worry about it too much. Just ask him when you get home later, yeah? Communication is key.” Her smile turned into a grin. She winked at you. “And hey, you can always wear my hat if you’d like.” 

You forced yourself to smile as well as you took a sip of your beer. “If I actually were single, I’d definitely take you up on that offer, but I’m not, and I don’t think Jake would like it much.” 

Her grin only deepened. She had dimples, you realised, and the hat on her head matched her eye colour. You were glad to have her here with you. She was someone you were sure you could become good friends with over time. 

“That makes it even better”, she said conspicuously. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her ankles over the edge of the table as she tipped her hat back. “He never told you about the hats. You don’t know anything in his eyes, honey. Use it against him.” 

There was a twinkle in her gaze that told you she was looking for nothing short of mischief and you had the distinct feeling that she’d been the ‘bad influence’ on Jake in high school that he’d talked about so often. She seemed like a troublemaker. But she also seemed genuine. And she was right - in Jake’s eyes, you were getting to know one of his friends, talking about some girly stuff (which he probably assumed was himself), having a nice night. Not learning about cowboy customs that he’d just so forgotten to mention. 

Jake usually didn’t get jealous. He trusted you the same way you trusted him. But he got possessive nonetheless - always with a hand on your back when you were talking to someone he thought was flirting with you, kissing you at the most inappropriate times, making sure that everyone knew you were his. Now he’d had the goddamn chance and hadn’t taken it. And you didn’t fucking know why. 

But you were damn determined to find out. 

Kendra slid the hat off her head and offered it to you. You took one deep breath before you reached for it. 

You let your fingertips skip over the rim for a moment. Were you really about to do this? Then you put it on your head. 

Alright. If Jake wasn’t going to tell you about the way this worked on his own accord, you’d make him tell you. 

Kendra emptied her beer and you followed suit before the both of you got up. She grabbed both bottles in one hand, turning to you to send you another of those winks. 

“I’ll bring these back to the bar and get us new ones. The dancefloor’s all yours.” 

With a nervous smile, you adjusted your newly aqcuired hat and made your way onto the dancefloor. There was soft music playing in the background - country, of course, loud but not loud enough to disturb conversation. It wasn’t late enough for that just yet. Which was honestly a relief, since you had zero clue whatsoever about line dancing or whatever it was they did down here. This way there were only a few couples twirling each other back and forth and some people moving to the beat all on their own. You let out a breath and closed your eyes, allowing yourself to really feel the music: the guitar, the steady drums, the vocals. 

Slowly, you started swaying - from one side to the other, turning, twirling, one step, then the next, heels here, toes there. A grin was making its way onto your face. The music grew, not as much in volume as in pace, and you didn’t know just when you had started to forget about everything except your movements (like the people watching, for example), but then the song changed and you gasped as you realised you knew it. Eyes fluttering open, hands coming together to clap, lips twisting into an actual laugh as you sang along, catching Kendra’s gaze and waving her over. 

She joined you with a laugh, grabbed your hand to twirl you around, and god, her voice was heavenly. For just a split second you wondered how Jake hadn’t ended up falling for her. You certainly would have. 

And speaking - more like thinking, but whatever - of the devil, you felt an all too familiar hand on your shoulder. You turned at the same time that Kendra let go of you, allowing you to admire your boyfriend in all his furious glory. 

Not that he actually looked furious. Not to anyone but you, not with that facade he wore whenever anyone got under his skin. But you, well... You’d been with him long enough to understand that twitch of his jaw, that tension in his shoulders, that flicker in his eyes. And yet - the cowboy hat still sat on his head. 

“I got it from here, Kendra”, he said, eyes fixed on yours, as you held your breath. She snorted, but still made to move away, muttering something under her breath that you didn’t catch. Then Jake spoke again. “Take your hat, Kendra.” 

He grabbed it from where it rested on your head and threw it at her without looking away from you. She sucked in a breath. 

“If you throw my hat again, I’ll kick your ass, Seresin”, she said and you could tell that even though they were friends, she wasn’t kidding. Shit, the people here were really fucking serious about their hats. Another reason why you were mad at Jake for not telling you about any of it. 

“Next time, don’t set it on my girl’s head”, he growled - growled, really, you didn’t know what else to call it. She scoffed and walked off. 

“How could she know I was your girl?”, you whispered, challenging him even though he already looked like you’d crossed some line that he’d drawn without telling you. “How could anyone?” 

For a few moments, he kept quiet. You defiantly stared up at him. Should he think whatever he fucking wanted to, this was entirely his fault. 

Then something changed in his expression. 

“You found out about the hat rule”, he said, “And the first thing you did was go and put on somebody else’s.” 

“Well if my boyfriend doesn’t want to have me wear his hat-” 

You couldn’t react as quickly as Jake had gripped you by the waist and pulled you close to him, forcing you to tip your head back to keep looking at him. He was, in fact, so close now that you could just kiss him and honestly, you were tempted. Just as tempted as you’d been when he’d come out of the bathroom looking like that, just as tempted as you’d been when you’d left the house, just as tempted as you’d been in his truck. But you were also stubborn. And you had good reasons not to kiss him right now (even though they were getting harder and harder to remember by the second).

“Darling, I’d go wild for you with my hat on.” 

You swallowed. Hard. 

“So why am I not wearing it?”, you asked through gritted teeth. You couldn’t quite believe just how easily this whole situation was getting under your skin. But it seriously hurt your ego - and not just that. The fact that Jake hadn’t told you about something so important in his hometown, some, as ridiculous as it may be, piece of culture, something that would so clearly show everyone that you were dating him, really, actually, seriously dating him, stung more than you wanted to admit. It was like someone had asked him outright if he was taken and he’d said no. 

“‘Cause I told you to wait”, he drawled, “Didn’t I? Wait ‘til you’re a real cowgirl.” 

Curiosity and frustration were mixing in your stomach, a weird, dangerous combo. You grabbed for his collar, pulling on it just a bit too hard - nothing he couldn’t stand his ground against. You were feeling insulted by all this and you found that you should let him know. 

“What’s a girl like me gotta do to become one in your eyes, hm, Hangman?” 

Hangman. You only called him that when you meant business. It was like a mother using her child’s full name whenever it got in serious trouble. Jake stiffened, fingers digging into your hips so firmly that you were sure you’d be able to see the marks in the mirror later on. You’d hit a nerve. Always did when you called him by his callsign. No more Jake, no more baby, none of that. 

“Behave”, he said, eyes fixed on yours, that one word carrying so much more meaning. You didn’t care. For once, you really didn’t fucking care. You wanted him riled up, wanted him furious, wanted him right at this breaking point. So you smiled.  

“Like a dog?” 

He’d smashed his lips on yours before you could react. 

All teeth and tongue, decisive, possessive, angry. You didn’t want to give in as quickly as you did. But he hardly left you a choice - he was everywhere, arms wrapped so tightly around you, chest pressed so firmly against yours, not giving you the option to escape, to duck away, to tease him any further. So instead of doing that, instead of making him run after you more, you let him have the control. All of it. Instead of turning, instead of making him chase you, you pulled him close to you by his collar with all the force you could manage, pulled him into you, pulled him with you as you stumbled backwards from the sudden change of weight, put your entire trust in him to keep you upright. You couldn’t breathe. You didn’t want to if that meant letting go. 

Not with how much emotion you were putting into this fucking kiss. 

Jake was the one to break away first. Pupils blown, cheeks reddened (you were sure you looked even worse), panting. You loosened your grip on his collar and ran a hand through your hair instead. 

Somewhere in the back of your head, you remembered that you were still in a bar, still in the middle of the dancefloor, still under the watchful eyes of his friends. A different part was screaming at you to fuck it and fuck him right here, right now. 

“Shit”, he breathed, resting his forehead against yours. His hat let a shadow fall over both your faces. “You’re gon’ be the death of me someday.” 

“Hopefully not too soon”, you teased, a smile playing on your lips as he pulled back just a bit. “I still gotta find out how to become a cowgirl after all.” 

The corner of his mouth quirked up as well. He raised his eyebrows, examining you for a second. 

“You really wanna know, sweetheart?” 

You let out a laugh. “Fuck yeah.” 

He leaned in close, breath ghosting over the shell of your ear, and you had to swallow. This felt intimate, somehow. 

“You’re gon’ be a cowgirl once you rode your cowboy.” 

Your breath caught in your throat. He pulled back with a grin. Smug, you realised. He was so fucking proud of himself for this - for having caught you off guard like that. You couldn’t let him win that easily. Not with that already inflated ego. 

“All of this just to get me into your bed?”, you chuckled. “Damn, Seresin. Lotta work for no reason, hm? I’m in it at the end of every day anyway.” 

He shrugged - as best as he could with his hands still on your waist. 

“What can I say? I aim to please.” 

You couldn’t help but grin too. The angry, sizzling tension had dissolved into something much more pleasant, much more dizzying. Something that set your skin ablaze and your mind on fire. You grabbed one of his hands from your waist and intertwined your fingers with his. 

“Want to get out of here?”, you asked. He leaned in and kissed you with a smile - slow and steady and sensual, wholly different from before. 

When he pulled back, you were breathless again. 

“Always.” 

[growingstories]

Vito

Vito, once a semi-successful soccer player, found himself comfortable settling down after his retirement at the age of 26. He got married, had children, and indulged in the pleasures of life. This newfound lifestyle resulted in him gaining a significant amount of weight, but Vito didn’t really care, his strict diet days as an athlete were a thing kf the past now.

After struggling to find purpose in post-retirement life, Vito managed to secure a job as an assistant coach at a big football club. Still basking in his past glory, he found himself attending numerous dinner parties and social gatherings, further contributing to his weight gain. Despite this, the club achieved success under his coaching. Vito's talent did not go unnoticed, and he eventually landed a position as the head coach of an English soccer club. Excitement and anticipation filled his heart as he embarked on this new journey, although it meant being far away from home. The first few months proved challenging as he resided in a hotel, relying heavily on room service and dining out every night. The restaurant owners and staff would celebrate his presence like a king, showering him with bottles of champagne and free food. Vito's weight continued to spiral out of control with each passing week. Amidst a tough season, where the club experienced both wins and losses, Vito resorted to snacking on packs of gummies during training sessions and indulging in big lunches with the club's CEO or players. They would even pass on their leftovers and desserts, further fueling his unhealthy habits.

As the press and media took notice of his expanding waistline, Vito reveled in the attention. The club managed to secure a third-place finish that season, but Vito's weight gain became a topic of concern. “Can he be a good example to the team at this weight?” The media questioned. Taking a well-deserved vacation, Vito's frustrations led him to overeat during his month-long all-inclusive stay in Dubai. Constant lounging at the pool and dining at extravagant restaurants only added more weight to his already hefty physique.

Upon returning to the club, Vito faced numerous remarks about his weight gain. Despite the criticisms, he remained focused on his work and became stricter with the players. No parties were allowed, and he would push them hard during training camps. However, unbeknownst to Vito, the players started using his weakness for food to their advantage. They would discreetly pass on their leftovers to keep him busy, providing them with some relief and relaxation. As the season progressed, Vito's weight continued to escalate. But he remained indifferent, solely focused on the success of his team. Parties became a regular occurrence, and hangover breakfasts started being a part of his daily routine. Snacking, lavish lunches, and dinners dominated his every waking moment.

When the moment of truth arrived, Vito's team emerged as victors in his second year as head coach. The ecstatic celebrations and constant partying only added to his ever-increasing size. But in the face of victory, he couldn't care less about his physical appearance. Vito had become massive, but his unwavering dedication to his team defined him more than his physicality ever could. Despite the consequences on his body, he had achieved success, which meant the world to him. And as he continued his coaching journey, he learned that true fulfillment came from within, not from societal expectations of appearance.

[readychilledwine]

Hi, could you write Tamlin absolutely ruining the reader. What I mean is.... reader and tam are in a relationship, he's been busy with work and reader thinks he doesn't like her anymore so tamlin shows her just how wrong she is...😏

A Hint of Corruption

Warnings - pet/own/master power play dynamics, brief rough oral, punishment play, mention of corruption, bratty behavior, reader really REALLY like fucking angry Tamlin.

"If you don't fucking have time for me anymore, just tell me." Tamlin looked at you in shock from his throne. You felt your chest tightening, eyes beginning to water as he just stared at you processing your anger.

He had not touched you in weeks. He hasn't kissed you in days. He spent hours holed up in his repaired office with other high Lords negotiating trade routes and imports. And when he wasn't there, he was in other courts doing the same thing.

"What, little dove, do you mean by that?" He stepped closer to you, setting that damned crown of antlers and thorns on the throne.

You didn't back down, staring up at him. "It's clear I've over stayed my welcome and you are tired of my presence," a dramatic statement fueled by your anger. "I have clearly served my purpose and you are done with me. So just tell me that instead of leaving me here alone constantly."

Tamlin's face fell into a further look of shock. He had told you what he was doing, that these next few months would be insane and likely lonely for both of you as he worked to reset the glory Spring once had.

Glory you were helping him bring back with your Mother blessed gifts to repair land and grow damn near anything. "Dove," he hand came to your cheek, stroking softly, "y/n, I warned you I would be busy and gone a lot this month. I have been trying to come home to you every night-"

"And yet I go to bed and wake up alone-"

He interrupted you, his pet peeve causing anger to hit him. "I was not done speaking, dove. Do we need a lesson on manners and the behavior of a Lady again?" He began backing you to the wall. "Do you need a reminder of who you belong to? Of who cares for you and this beautiful body?"

Your back hit the window, hands going flat against the glass as the throne room doors slammed shut and locked. "Tamlin-"

Green eyes flickered to yours, a mix of arousal and annoyance shining in them. "I believe you are fully aware we are past first names at this point, pet. Get on your knees."

Submission fueled your brain as he pushed down on your shoulders, gathering your hair before putting into the leather he had around his wrist. "Open your mouth," your hands were on his pant ties already focused on that task until a slap came.

You gasped loudly, eyes watering. It wasn't hard, but it still stung, and you looked up at him.

He had not had to slap you for disobedience in years. Not since he had met you, and this began. You were his good girl. His pretty little pet he constantly praised. Your lip trembled as tears fell. "Don't give me that look. Open your fucking mouth."

You sniffled, doing as you were told and waited. "There she is," two fingers gently brushed your tongue, pushing in and coating themselves in your spit. "You're going to suck my cock while I explain to you, again, what is currently happening in my court and why master is gone so much lately."

You didn't nod, eyes still watering. "You want to be my good girl. Don't you?" Tamlin pushed those two fingers into your mouth and down your throat. "Look at me." Your eyes fluttered up, breathing through your nose as he pushed further, causing you to gag. "I can't wait to fucking ruin you."

You whined around them, sucking greedily now. "No, pet, you have to listen first. You broke a rule, you have to be punished. You understand, don't you?"

Your eyes had glazed over, so focused on sucking his fingers that all you could do was nod. "That's my good girl." Tamlin untied his pants, pulling this cock out and smiled as you moaned at the sight. He had ruined you so beautifully already, but you had been so innocent, so untouched by anything when he found you that every chance to fuck you stupid was new and exciting.

He removed his fingers, using the saliva to pump his heavy cock while you watched. Your tongue was out, waiting for him to give you what you wanted, waiting for him to force you to listen. He placed the head on your tongue and nodded, giving you permission to pleasure him.

"As I was saying before you so rudely interrupted me," he held you down, nose flush against his pelvis, watching as you swallowed and sucked his length. "I have been working tirelessly every damn day to be home to you every night. That means there's going to be a lot of mornings alone since I am constantly winnowing the lands to keep you and your slutty little mouth and cunt happy."

He moaned as he pulled up, watching you take a deep breath, then he slammed back in, laughing as you gagged around him. "I am not tired of you. I am not done with you. I am not planning to just toss you aside, pet. I am busy. You like your pretty dresses and jewelry, don't you? Like having a staff to pamper and wait on you? How do you think your High Lord gets you those things? Do you think they're just here and free to you since you're so damn pretty?"

He began fucking your mouth, focusing on that for awhile before abruptly pulling you off of him and ripping you up by your hair.

You moaned, walking at his pace until he threw you over the arm of the throne and held you down with a growl that warned you not to move.

A loud rip filled the room, followed by a chilly spring breeze leaving goosebumps along your body. "Such a beautiful girl," you could hear his smile as you heard his clothing hit the floor and felt a hand go to your folds. Tsmlin groaned at the wetness he found there, the sweet essence coating his hand and practically pouring out of you. He patted your clit softly, watched as you wiggled and moaned his name.

Gods, he loved you. Every inch of you. Every dip and soft curve of your body. Every laugh. Every noise you made.

How could you ever think he'd grown tired of you?

Tamlin took his now coated hand, running it along the shaft of himself as he ran the head through your folds then sat. "Beg. Beg like the good little whore you are. Beg for my forgiveness and for my cock."

"Master please," a good start. "Gods, please I am so sorry. I'll be a good pet. I'll listen and wait at home. Please just fuck me. I need you inside me, please. It's been so long."

He hummed, hand running your spine and tangling into your hair. "It has been too long, my love. Much too long. I should rectify that." He entered you in one swift thrust. The throne began digging into your hips, brushing them as he wasted no time pounding into you.

He ripped you up by your hair again, forcing your back to arch like a bow for him as he pulled the cord that was your pleasure taunt. "I love you, you spoilt little pet. You fucking know this but come in here to yell at me?" His words matched the harshness of his cock working inside of you. You could help the wetness beginning to pool more and more at each word. "I got help to be worthy of you. Signed trade deals with courts I didn't want to be able to spoil and care for you. I get one full day home this week to get ready for a High Lords' meeting, and you want to come in here running your mouth?"

He changed the angle of his thrusts, hitting that spot deep inside of you. You felt your body going pliant, and his arms moved to hold you up by your elbows, pulling you back slightly. "Tell me you're sorry and let you cum. I can tell you are right there. I can stop right fucking now."

"No!" You felt yourself crying again. The pleasure becoming too much. "I'm sorry I was so ungrateful. I'll be good. Gods, please, my mate, my High Lord, please."

Tamlin didn't stop, speed increasing as each drag stretched your now tightening walls forcing them open and swallowing his cock whole. "Cum. Scream my name for his whole court to know who owns you."

You obeyed. Your mind, soul, heart, and body were his. You were his. He had ensured that the second he started bedding you, ruining you for anyone who may wish to touch you, and he'd continue to ruin you.

He came inside of you, holding you down by your neck again and forcing you into submission as you milked him. "Do not ever come into my throne room acting like that again. I was nice, y/n. I won't be nice next time."

You smiled, looking back at him, and risked it all. "You're so easy to manipulate, Tam. I got the sex I needed just by being a brat for 5 minutes. I can't wait until you see what else I've done."

His face fell, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "You won't be leaving our bedroom tomorrow, will you pet?"

You felt him pull out, smiling as he turned you and picked you up. "Nope," you popped the last syllable before kissing his cheek.

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho

@mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth

[abbyromanoff]

Can I request GP college Emo Wanda x cam girl reader where Wanda jerks off to the videos, then reader holds a contest for one of her viewers to meet up with her and have dinner if they donate the most money and Wanda ends up winning and they go out to dinner and reader teases Wanda the entire time making Wanda frustrated so they have rough but passionate sex in Wanda’s dorm room afterwards. (with praise, daddy kink and scratching [ r to wanda] ;) and face sitting if that’s ok <3

My Girl

Pairings: g!p Wanda Maximoff x reader

Summary: Quite literally the ask just written onto a doc

Word count: 3170

Warnings: daddy kink, smut, belly bulges, face riding, scratching, Wanda has a penis, degrading, praising, kinda public sex, fingering, mentions of free use and cnc

No one is permitted to steal, copy, or reblog my work as their own!!

Wanda huffed as she threw her books down and got out her laptop. Her professor would not stop giving her shit today and she was pissed off. Opening the electronic she locked the door to her dorm and tore off her jeans. She sat back down onto the bed and scrolled onto your account, her favorite. Every week that you posted she’d be the first one on, commenting whenever she could and replaying every video she could. Finding the most recent one she clicked on it, seeing you using a large dildo on your pussy with a butt plug inside of your tight ass.

Pulling out her semi-hard cock she started a slow pace with her hand, her thumb brushing against the tip every time she reached it. “Mm, such a little slut aren’t you? You wanted me to see you, didn’t you? You knew I’d be watching you, you waited for me like the good little girl you are.” She spoke into the empty room. Your moans filled her ears as it brought her closer to the edge, only a few minutes in and she was already about to cum.

“Look at that sweet little pussy, so ready for me. Wish I could fill it up, wish I could just slide right inside of that tight little hole and use you.” She whispered out once again. She’d always imagined you could hear her, she liked to picture it was your hand instead of her own wrapped around her length. You moaning beneath her as she used you for her own pleasure, not caring if you’re overstimulated but just wanting to make herself feel good.

She soon came into her hand as you finished around the large silicone dildo, she knew she could make you feel better than that stupid toy. Groaning, she felt unsatisfied. No matter how much she could finish onto her hand from watching you it always made her realize just how lonely she truly was. If she was being completely honest, she wanted you. She could care less about any of the other girls in her classes, all she wanted and needed was you.

She scrolled through your account some more, trying to see if you posted anything else in the past day. When she saw what you wrote in your bio she gained hope, ‘Whoever donates the most money on the next stream at 2:00 PM on Tuesday will receive a free dinner with me and maybe even a dessert ;)’ it read. She quickly looked up her bank account and realized just how little she had, no wonder why, she was a college student. Although, she did have a job. Texting her boss with a small ‘Will I be able to pick up some extra shifts for a few days?’ Before putting her phone down and doing her schoolwork. The entire day she couldn’t stop thinking about that, her whole week was spent thinking about you and you only.

Tuesday finally came and she prepared herself, saving the perfect amount of money for you. At 2 PM she scrolled onto your account and reloaded until she saw your face. A small smile took over her face when seeing you, you were even more beautiful than she pictured. In your videos she could barely ever see your face but now, now she could see you in your full glory. People already started spitting out cash the second they joined while Wanda was too focused staring at you. Getting out of her trance, she made her first donation of one hundred dollars and you thanked her, causing her to smile at the thought. For the entire two hours Wanda continued giving you her money to stay at the top, which she did. Before the live ended you gave a shout out to her, or to ‘ScarletW01’ as that was her username. She waited for you to text her impatiently and when you finally did, she almost immediately replied. You both fell into a small conversation as you got to know one another better, wanting to make sure she wasn’t a random old creep. She later found out that you lived only six miles from her dorm and you both decided on a restaurant to go to later that week.

She couldn’t stop thinking about it. If she had to go another day waiting she would lose her mind. But the day was finally here, the day where she would take you out to dinner and hopefully woo you enough to spend the night.

“Okay, which looks better, black or red?” She asked her roomate who at this point was most likely sick of hearing her. Agatha sighed and turned her body to look, ditching her notes for what felt like the thirtieth time in the past hour.

“They both look like shit but I guess the red matches you more.” Wanda sighed, aggravated with the womans words. “Agatha, you’re not helping here. I really like this person and I want to impress them so can you please just help me find something? Anything?” Agatha groaned but agreed, walking to her roomates closet and looking for what might look best.

She spent a good five minutes of tossing around clothes before she finally found the one, a red jacket along with a low, black dress that showed cleavage. “Perfect. I know you can’t live without this stupid coat so, here. It will show her that you’re not trying too hard but also that you try hard enough to impress her.” Wanda had no clue what she meant but rolled with it anyway, adding her jewlery and makeup to finish off the look. Brushing her hair a tad bit more she looked herself over in the mirror, trying to find her best angle.

“Okay Wanda, you got this. It’s not difficult, it’s just a date. Just a date, that’s it.” She tried reassuring to herself, still not believing a word she said. When her timer went off she said her goodbyes to Agatha who whished her luck, closing the door behind her as she jogged out of the building.

When she arrived at the restaurant she took a quick glance around and found someone sitting at a double table, it was you. She took a deep breath and walked your way, giving a small tap to your shoulder to gain your attention.

You turned around and were greeted by the sight of probably the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen. “H-hey, Wanda right? I’m Y/N, which you probably already know, sorry.” You say, catching yourself rambling slightly. You don’t mean to be so nervous, but this woman already had an effect on you. She smiled at your words and quickly took her seat across from you. “Yeah, that’s me. Uh, thank you for this, I kind of haven’t been able to stop thinking about you ever since last week.” That was sort of the truth, she hadn’t stopped thinking about you for what seemed like months now.

You blushed slightly, opening your mouth to say something until you guys’ waiter appeared, asking if you two would need more time or if you’re ready to order. You ordered a small glass of wine while Wanda ordered some lemon water, still not legally being able to drink.

“No alcohol for you, huh?” Wanda laughed lightly before giving a response, “Nope. I’m only twenty so I have to wait a few more months until I can start ordering it at a restaurant.” You nodded in understanding and got back into a conversation. You were shocked at how nice she truly was, when you held the contest you expected some douche who’d just want to get into your pants but Wanda actually seemed interested in you. She listened to every word you said intently and even voiced her own opinions occasionally. This was already your best date you’ve ever had.

When the food was delivered shortly after the drinks, you started your fun. Using your heeled foot lightly rub against her exposed leg. You exaggerated moans when eating your food and noticed her face turning a small shade of red. Going back into small talk, you asked about her family and personal life, as she did with you previously. Your foot continued to stroke her own leg, starting to go higher and higher until you reached her inner thighs. Her breathing was uneasy and she could feel her growing erection in her pants.

“Is something bothering you Wanda?” You asked teasinly, faking a pout as you used your pity voice. She stared at you with pure lust and muttered out a ‘lets go, we’re leaving’ before dragging you out of the place, leaving a one-hundred dollar bill on the table to cover the cost.

“You wanna act like a slut, I’ll treat you like a slut.” She said, pushing you up against her car door and rubbing her hard on against your backside. You let out a whimper when she ran the pads of her fingers over your covered core, tracing your clit lightly as she watched you squirm beneath her.

“Oh you like that? You like when daddy puts her little whore back into place?” The title she gave herself made you even wetter, by now there had to be a small wet spot on your panties.

“Daddy, please not here. People can see.” You whispered out into the cold air. The woman behind you chuckled dryly as her digits sped up in pace, starting to move your underwear to the side so she could finally slip inside your tight hole.

“What, you don’t want everyone seeing how dirty my perfect little girl is?” Before you could respond, her middle finger finally entered your awaiting pussy. She started with a slow pace, soon gaining the courage to speed up and truly fuck you. You body was slammed against the car as your breasts slid up and down on the window slightly.

“Daddy! You fuck me so good- oh!” You were cut short of a sentence as she found that spongey spot inside of you, the one that drove you nuts. Before you could let out a loud moan her neglected fingers filled your mouth as she hit the back of your throat.

“That’s it baby, take me all down your throat like you did with that dildo last week. Did you really think I wouldn’t see? That I wouldn’t see how you were basically begging for me to fuck your throat till you were drooling all over me?” Wanda knew it wasn’t just for her. She knew that before this you barely even knew her, that the videos weren’t meant for her pleasure but for everyones. The thought caused a small pain to the heart but she quickly regained herself, focusing on making you feel good. She could tell you were getting close, she could feel the way you clenched and throbbed around her. She pulled her digits out of you, licking them clean before opening the car door and rushing you in, desperate to get home and fuck you properly. You had no time to protest as her hand went to place itself onto your inner thigh, almost like how you did earlier to her.

“Wanda-” “Don’t. Just because I’m not railing you senseless doesn’t mean you don’t call me daddy. Trust me, you’ll be screaming it sooner than later.” You gulped fearfully and leaned back into the seat, getting ready for a torturous ride.

By the time you arrived it was already almost midnight, the campus lights were off and only a few dorms had a yellow glow in them. Wanda walked you to her dorm, slamming you against her door when she finally reached it. She struggled to unlock it and had to pull away just to make sure her key went in right. You could tell she seemed embarrassed but it quickly faded once she got her hands back onto you. The woman pulled you into the small room and pushed you down onto the bed, climbing on top of you quickly. She quickly removed her jacket and threw it across the room somewhere, taking your shirt to join the growing pile.

“Daddy wants to make you feel good tonight, will you let her? Will you let daddy play with you all night till you cum all over her?” She asked, already knowing the answer. Your rapid nod wasn’t enough for her as she gave a small smack to your face, repeating her last sentence once again.

“Yes daddy. You can use me however you want, I promise I’ll be good.” Your seeminly innocent tone made Wanda want to destroy you right then and there. Groaning, she grabbed you by the chin, pulling you close to her and forcing you to make eye contact.

“Yeah? You’ll be good for me? You’ll let me prove that I can be better than any of those stupid toys you use?” She didn’t let you answer before she moved herself off of you and removed every article of clothing you had, getting rid of her own soon after.

“Yes! I promise I’ll do whatever you want. I just want your cock so bad.” You whined desperatly, hoping she’d pitty you enough to give you what you wanted. She chuckled and layed down on the bed, patting the spot next to her as a signal for you to join her. At first you were confused, that was until she grabbed your leg and draped it over her awaiting mouth, leaving your pussy on full display. You looked down at her with a shocked expression, honestly surprised that she wanted you to ride her face.

“Now baby, I want you to watch me as I lick your pretty little pussy. And I don’t want you to cum until I tell you that you can do so, understood?” You answered her question quickly and she dove into your wet cunt, licking and sucking anywhere she could. She moaned into you as she stuck her tongue into your hole, her mouth exploding at the new found taste.

“Mmm, you taste so fucking good baby, I can’t stop.” She mumbled into your pussy, going right back in the moment she finished speaking. You held eye contact with her like she asked, slightly bucking your hips up when her nose made contact with your clit.

“Daddy! I need to cum so bad, wanna cum all over your face, please!” The woman didn’t give a response as she was too engrosed in the flavor of your juices in her mouth. She shook her head back and forth to stimulate you more, the wet noises echoing throughout the bland room. The woman finally leaned back to talk, “Of course princess, I want you to squirt all in my mouth. I want to feel you finish on top of me.” The moment she finished speaking, you came. You finally got that release you’ve been wanting for the past hour. She soaked in the moment, letting you ride out your high while you continued basking in the feeling. You yelled out her name repeatedly until you finally calmed down, slowly moving yourself off of her and admiring her soaked face. You brought yourself down to meet her, your noses brushing against one another slightly before you started licking the juices off of her. She moaned as your mouth trailed all over her, grinding your already sensitive pussy onto her crotch.

“Daddy, too sensitive.” You whined out, already feeling that coil in your stomach once again. She shook her head repeatedly before finally responding, “No, no, no princess. I know you can take it, I thought you were my good girl, I guess you don’t want to be my sweet little angel anymore.”

“N-no daddy, I’ll be good! I need your cock please, I need it in my pussy.” She finally complied and lined herself up with your hole, rubbing your clit with the tip before slipping insde of you. Your breath got caught in your throat as she lowered you down until you were at the base of her cock.

“‘M so full daddy!” She groaned at the thought, noticing a small bulge outlined on your lower stomach. Using her hand to grab your hips, she guided you to go back and forth slowly while keeping her eyes on the imprint.

When she heard your moans she flipped you over almost immediately, wrapping your legs around her shoulders to find a new angle. Feeling your hands lay on her back and grasping the muscles that laid upon it. You scratched down her back harshly, leaving red marks and a little bit of blood behind. Wanda never thought someone scraping her back would turn her on this much but it did, it felt heavenly. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your mouth went wide open.

“Mmm, daddy’s little brainless slut, aren’t you? My cock feels so fucking good, doesn’t it? You can’t even think straight anymore.” She muttered into your ear, feeling you clench around her desperately.

“Mhm, I’m your brainless little slut daddy! I’m whatever you want me be, I’ll be your fuck toy.” She could’ve came on the spot, your words were affecting her more than she wanted to admit. “Yeah? You wanna be my fucking toy? I’ll use you whenever I want, I don’t care if you don’t want it I’ll fuck this sweet little cunt anyways. You’ll be my own personal fleshlight, you’ll please me whenever I want, won’t you?” You nodded faster than you could think. The coil in your stomach was about to snap any minute as was Wanda’s.

“I’m gonna cum in this tight little pussy, I’m gonna fill it up with my cum.” She knew you wanted it, you’d take whatever she gave you without complaint. You nodded once again, being too fucked out to even speak. You felt spurts of hot liquid fill you as you finally let yourself go once again. This had to be the best orgasom you’ve ever had, none of the hook-ups or toys could even come close. Wanda whispered out sweet words as you two slowed down to a hilt. She started to pull out until your whines filled the quiet room, stopping what she was doing and stilling herself inside of you.

“You okay? I didn’t hurt you, right?” You shook your head and brought her head back into your neck, wrapping your arms around her neck and holding her closely. She inhaled deeply and finally relaxed for the first time in awhile. She was worried about your reaction to her question she wanted to ask you, she didn’t want to make this awkward if you didn’t feel the same way. But she asked anyway, the fear that if she didn’t then you’d end up with someone else, someone other than her.

“Will you go on a date with me?” The silence was deafening until you finally said something in return. “Sure.”

[butididntpourthewhiskeys]

CITYBOUND II

Ten fingers are digging deep into the tiles, so firmly that her wet fingertips are slowly turning white from the pressure. She can’t dare look up, her mind clearly lost in this moment. She’s physically here, but her mind has left this rainfall shower minutes ago. All she feels, is this ever growing sensation in her lower region, his huge finger prints on her curves, and the sound of his exhausted groans in her ear. Hot water is running down her back, her neck, wet strands of her own hair in her eyes. She lets her head fall back then, feels his hand moving up, grabbing her left breast in the most primal way he knows. And it does something to her. It pushes her a step further towards that tip of the mountain she’s climbing. 

“Fuck, baby…” is all she can hear now, besides the noise of hot water falling onto the marble floor of his shower. And then, suddenly, it happens. She feels herself letting go, moans loudly once and starts to see stars. But then, there’s another moan audible to her. A few cursed words and his hands squeezing her body as tight as humanly possible. She tries to breathe steadily again but it’s tougher than she expected. Her body is in a completly different state than usually when she showers. She feels her knees starting to shake. For a second, she even worries that she might pass out. But then, she can feel him pull away, help her turn around. His smile erasing all these anxious thoughts from a second ago. He smiles his widest smile, the water from the shower still running down his face, his nose, his mouth and his shoulders. His smile does something to her. With shaking hands, Taylor frees her forehead from her wet bangs and he appreciates it. He appreciates that he’s able to get closer to her now, holding her naked body securely in his arms, kissing her bare forehead. He lets go after a second, still smiling and kisses her lips gently. His kisses are so different than they were a few minutes ago. All the lust has died down, and instead he’s as gentle as he can be. She sighs exhaustedly into the wet kiss, her hands now wandering onto his neck. He’s so tall, yet so gentle. His hands firmly around her back, slowly making their way down her ass.

“I think we’re clean now.” he mumbles against her lips then, still grinning at her, right before stopping the water from running. She nods, appreciates him reaching for the towel just when she was about to get cold from the absence of the hot water she grew so accustomed to these past minutes. And she enjoys her princess treatment fully. Him wrapping the soft grey towel around her body, rubbing his hands over the fabric to warm her up. She still doesn’t speak, knows that she seems a bit quiet in this moment. But it’s been the mindblowing orgasm he gave her moments ago. Her brain is still slow. She’s still in a different universe than the one he is in. She’s impressed every time how physically and mentally active he is after sex, when all she wants to do is pass out on top of him and take a good nap. 

Taylor steps onto the bath mat laying right in front of the shower and starts to dry herself up. They both don’t speak much right now. Travis leaves the bathroom first, steps barefoot into his master bedroom. She can hear his steps on the carpet. Looking in the bathroom mirror, she starts massaging her wet hair with the soft towel. She knows that her curls will come out in all their glory today if she won’t be blowdrying them. But that’s okay. Today, it’s okay. 

“Here.” she hears him behind her. She turns around for a second, finds him standing in the door way fully naked. A view she’s gotten used to by now. He just places one of his KC shirts on the counter next to the sink. Right on top of his shirt, one of her fresh thongs neatly folded up. She looks at him with the towel still covering her body. She can’t help but smirk, looks from the thong back to him. 

“What?” he says, knows exactly why she looks this way. “I was doing laundry last week and found it in my laundry basket. So I washed it with my stuff.” 

“And.. then you folded it for me?” she asks, making Travis laugh quietly.

“Yes, and?” 

“Nothing.” she says, a little giggle escaping her mouth. 

“You’re weird.” he just says, leans in to steal her cheek a kiss and walks away, on a mission to find some clothes himself. She slowly lets the towel fall to the ground and gets dressed. She smiles to herself. It’s weird how normal this has become. Her underwear in his laundry basket. Off days in bed together. In nothing but his shirt. She looks up into the mirror again. Her wet curls are slowly starting to dry. His shirt fits like a dress on her. For a moment she stares into her own eyes. She knows where this is going. And she knows there’s no stopping it anymore. 

“Eggs or French Toast?” she can hear him yell from the hallway. She reaches for her hair brush in her little cosmectic bag, starts untangling her curly hair.

“French toast please.” she yells back and gets a shallow “Coming right up” from downstairs. 

___

In a pair of wool socks that are way too big on her, but which she has found in his sock drawer, Taylor makes her way downstairs. The smell coming from the kitchen automatically makes her smile. It’s been a while since she’s had someone make breakfast for her. It’s been a while since she wasn’t the one providing for another human being. 

As soon as she’s in the kitchen, he looks up from the pan, smiles at her. He’s wearing a pair of boxers, a Nike tee covering his torso. 

“Perfect timing as always” he says. Taylor doesn’t stop before him, just wraps her arms around his torso from behind, like a little panda. He giggles once, and she lets go of him as soon as she feels him transfer the french toast onto the plate next to him.

“Smells incredible.” she says, still can’t quite believe he’s just made her breakfast. 

“Go sit down, babe. I’ll get you a coffee as well.” 

She smiles, almost feels bad watching him do all the work. But he signals her to go sit down on the stool by the kitchen island. She slowly crawls onto one of the chairs, keeps on watching him prepare this meal. He grabs a bunch of rasperries, strawberries, bananas and blueberries and sprinkles them on top of the french toast. She really is impressed. To say the least. 

“Here you go.”

Travis stands right next to her, placing the plate in front of her. She just looks at the fruit next to the toast, realizes that the banana slices on the side are forming a smiley. Just when she wanted to say something to him is when he leans in to give her cheek the softest kiss she’s ever known. She feels emotional suddenly. This treatment is not something she’s used to. 

“Thank you so much.” she just says, feels his fingers in her back move gently. He still smiles at her, giving her back one last squeeze. And she hates to feel him let go right now. Travis just walks back to the kitchen, starts to prepare coffee for the two of them. 

“This looks incredible, Trav.” she says, slowly reaches for the fork he placed next to her plate. She steals one raspberry with her fork, watches him make some coffee. She can’t believe how he just spoils her, in his very own way, naturally. As if she hadn’t made it clear to him that she’s not ready for anything more than this. More than days in bed together. More than sex and laughs. Weekend trips to Kansas City when Eleanor is with her grandparents. Late night hotel rooms in New York City when he’s in town for work. She knows he forgave her slip up a few months ago. She knows he understood that being a single mom, and dating for the first time since Joe has been hard on her. She did expect him to eventually cave in after their fight, just so they could both indulge in their incredible sexual chemistry again. And they did. But what she didn’t expect is how kind he’s been. How gentle. How… loving. 

“Iced or hot?” 

She’s suddenly pulled out of her thoughts, looks at him standing in front of his expensive DeLonghi coffee machine. “Hot, please. Thanks.” Taylor watches him open the fridge again. He pulls out a can of Almond milk. She can’t believe it. 

“You got me almond milk?” 

“Of course I did.” he says, proudly, starts frothing some of the milk for her. She smiles at him from over here. He’s doing the most. He really is. After a few moments, Travis makes his way back to her, placing a mug full of hot coffee in front of her plate. He sits down next to her, and she gives him a questioning look. 

“Where’s your breakfast?” she asks him, but he doesn’t shrug. 

“I’m not hungry.” 

“Trav.” 

“No, I’m serious.” he laughs, “I never eat breakfast. Not sure why.. I just can’t get anything down before noon.” 

Taylor sits there, in front of her plate with a banana sliced smiley face and a fruity french toast in the middle of it. She can’t believe he just made her breakfast without eating anything himself.

“But.. you didn’t have to… to put in all this work to make me..” 

“It was no work.” he laughs, his hand already on her back again. She likes that this is his thing. Holding her in her back. She likes it a lot. 

“You’re my guest. Need to make sure you’re well fed.” 

She smiles at him, thankful. She places her hand on his cheek, right over his beard, gets closer to him and kisses him gently. 

“You’re so sweet.”

He smiles at her, a little more intrigued than before. He hasn’t experienced her like this before. She’s softer than she normally allows herself to be around him. Her voice all quiet all of the sudden. Her small fingers still on his cheek. 

“You deserve it.” he replies, the same tone of voice as her. She smiles at him again, lets go of his face and digs into the plate of goodness in front of her. He just sits next to her, watches her eat. It’s so mundane, but he loves every second of it. And he knows why that is. He knows he’s not just overstepped one of the boundaries she gave him. Instead, he overran any boundary she ever gave him. It’s not just sex to him anymore, and maybe it never has been. He feels himself falling for this woman with the messy curls in front of him. He’s falling for the way her little hands are always reaching for his, not just when having sex. He feels himself falling for the way she sounds in the morning, her voice full of sleep. He feels himself falling for the way she speaks about music, her job, her family, her passions. But mostly, he can feel himself become softer and softer around her. His heart is slowly opening up with every moment he spends with her. And he knows why that is. Because she’s pure sunshine and love. Not a single bad ounce about her. Sometimes, he’s convinced she feels the same, and then again he thinks that this, sex with no committments, might be the only thing he will ever get with her. But it would be enough. If he can just keep her in his life, it would be enough.

“And?” 

She smiles at him, munching her breakfast with a sparkle in her eyes. 

“Soooo good.” she mumbles, making him smile again. “Sure you don’t want to try?” she asks him, holding a fork of French toast in front of his face. He caves in, opens his mouth and tries some of the food he so eagerly prepared to impress her. Travis chews and nods.

“I definitely have outdone myself.” 

Taylor giggles quietly. 

“You have. It’s really good. You always say you can’t cook but your breakfast food cooking skills so far have been A+. Hands down.” 

“I’m glad.” he smiles, watches her finish her plate. 

“You know, Eleanor hates French toast. At least when I make it. But I’m convinced, she would eat yours.” she says then. For a minute, Travis looks at her a bit shocked but positively surprised. Ever since that night at the piercing studio, neither of the two had brought up Eleanor again. After all, he respects her decision to keep him away from her. It hurts him, if he’s being honest to himself. It really does. But he respects her motherly instincts. Even more surprising it is to him how casually she’s bringing her little girl up in their conversation right now. 

“Really?” he asks, careful not to say the wrong thing. “Is she not a sweet breakfast eater?” 

Taylor smiles at the thought of her little girl being the pickiest eater on this planet. It’s something she had to adjust to. That, she definitely has from her father. 

“She loves the super unhealthy stuff. Like.. give her a donut and she will eat it in no time. Eggs… sometimes. If we’re having a good day. But fruit? Forget it.” she says, laughing a little while picking on her plate. He smiles at her, nods. 

“I was the same way as a kid. My mom took me to the pediatrician at some point because all I would eat was white toast and sausages.” 

Taylor laughs at him, digs her fork into the last strawberry and holds the berry in front of his mouth. He opens up, thankfully chews the berry. 

“Your poor mom. Eleanor at least eats potatoes and broccoli, but… yeah. It’s difficult.” 

Travis doesn’t say anything, can’t stop smiling at her speak. He admires how thoughtful she is when it comes to Eleanor. He admires this side of her, being so caring for her little girl. 

“You’re a great mom.” 

She holds in for a moment. Doesn’t reply right away. For a moment, Travis fears he’s said the wrong thing. But she just finishes her plate, looks back at him one more time. 

“You don’t even know if I am a good mom.” 

“I do know.” he says, a bit more cocky on purpose. “I know because the way you fought me in that cab a few months ago? That’s a good mom. It was the right thing to do. You want to protect your little girl. I admire that a lot.” 

She feels a little uncomfortable suddenly. For the first time since sitting next to him this morning. She feels embarrassed thinking back to her losing her mind. She was so unfair to him. Cold. Just a horrible person. It means a lot that this is how he sees her. It really means a lot. 

“Thanks.” she whispers. Pushes the plate away. “And thanks again for breakfast.” 

He smiles, nods then. 

“Sure.” 

___

With her big headphones tugged over her bundled up hair, Taylor stares at the MacBook on her lap. She really thought being stuck in traffic since an hour already would mean she could get some more work done before she’s back home and spends the evening with mom duties. But of course, how could it be any different, her internet connection is horrible. There’s a bunch of email sitting right in her outbox. She just sighs. She takes her headphones off her head for a moment, presses a button in front of her. The black slider separating the backseat from the front of the SUV rolls down slowly. 

“Sorry, Brandon, do we know what is going on with this traffic? I’m supposed to pick up Eleanor in thirty minutes…” 

The man in the front seat doesn’t look to pleased either. The vehicle is stuck in standing traffic since half an hour already. There’s no police cars in sight, no indication yet of what may have caused this unusual traffic on the way from JFK back to the city on this Monday evening. 

“I’m not sure we’ll be in the city by then, unfortunately. We’re currently still about 45 minutes away.” 

Taylor sighs, then nods. She knows it’s not her driver’s fault. But this is why she hates driving home from the airport on a weekday evening during rush hour. Especially after the two days she’s just had. Hospital. Nashville. Her sick mother taking up all of her attention. Taylor sighs. She’s barely slept, and the last thing she needs is an anxious Eleanor because her mom didn’t pick her up on time. 

“Alright, thanks Brandon. Can you let me know if you find out what’s going on?” 

“Of course, miss. I will let you know what traffic control says.” 

“Thanks.” she sighs, rolls up the black slider again. She closes down her laptop, having given up hope that her emails will still make it out of her outbox. She grabs her phone, can see that she’s got messages from one guy, and one guy only. Travis. She smiles for a moment. For the first time in three days, actually. He sent her a selfie of himself in the make up chair backstage. She has to smile again. He surely is handsome. 

Getting ready for the interview. Miss you.

She holds her breath for a second. Everything inside of her is tingling. She knew it would eventually come this far. She knew it deep down the second she met him for the first time. Little ‘i miss yous’ that are being shared, happiness arising in her stomach as soon as she gets a text frok him. She knows that they’re slowly but surely becoming more than just bed buddies. He misses her. And she believes him. She does miss him too. 

Taylor hides her face behind her hands. She’s falling in love again. This dark, complicated, destructive thing that almost took everything she had, is coming back again. She stares out of the window. It’s slowly starting to rain. The car still not moving. 

Loving Joe was a drug that almost took her down, completely. And leaving him was like rehab. Moving to New York, cutting all invisible strings that still led to him was what saved her in the end. She promised herself so many times that never in her life would she ever let someone close enough to hurt her like he did. Taylor looks down at Travis and his kind smile on her screen. 

Here we go again. 

Taylor starts typing, deletes everything she just said, then looks outside again. She takes a deep breath. Then hits send. 

I miss you, too.

She swallows, locks her iphone immediately. She had to say it. She had to not let her self-destructive tendancies get in the way of being honest with herself, with this kind man who’s done nothing but bring sunshine into her life these past months. 

___

“What do you say, shall we grab a drink at the hotel bar after this? Or do you want to hit up the bar next door?” 

Travis grins at his friend, the low lighting in this restaurant setting the mood. It’s loud in here. It’s busy. And dark. The kind of darkness that really indicates to everyone here, that this restaurant in the heart of the West Village, really isn’t the ordinary French restaurant as so many in this neighbourhood. The lighting sets the mood, but it also has a function. The function to give high profile celebrities a false sense of security to remain unseen. To be able to dine out in the city, without getting stared at and people taking pictures of them stuffing their faces with food. Travis knows what he’s talking about. He used to think his own celebrity was rough at times. But ever since he’s known Taylor, he understands that he never had anything to complain about.

“Ross, man.” Travis says, a smile in his face, but definitely a tired one. “Dude, I appreciate you being a good sport and making the most of these two days in the city but we need to get up early tomorrow morning to jump on a flight and I have to go to practice as soon as I arrive in KC. I’m sorry to say it but your boy needs his sleep. I’m not in my twenties no more.” he says, and Ross sighs. 

“Neither are you, by the way.” he adds, laughing at his friend before taking a last sip of his drink. 

Ross just shakes his head, pretending to be disappointed. Truth is, the old Travis would have hit the clubs in the city right in this moment. The old Travis would have completely destroyed himself tonight, disregarding any type of responsibilities that his job and lifestyle as an athlete bring with it. And he’s proud of the man sitting in front of him. He’s proud that his friend seems to really have learned in these past year what it means to take care of yourself. What it means to choose wisely. He will never not be inspired by Travis.

“Alright, thanks grandpa.” he says, but the smile on his face tells Travis he’s all in with the idea of getting some good sleep and calling it a night. Travis signals the waiter that he wants to get the bill. Just in that moment, his phone screen lights up. So bright in this darkened restaurant that not just Travis but also Ross immediately see on the buzzing iPhone screen who’s calling him. Ross smiles immediately, already pats his friend’s shoulder over the table. 

“Wow, looks like you might not get any sleep tonight after all, huh?” 

Travis just laughs, shakes his head immediately. Truth is, he’s happy to hear from her. He’s happy to answer this call right now, right in this minute, just to hear her voice. He doesn’t expect her to offer him to meet up later tonight. She made it clear to him that she will spend the evening with her child at home. And he respects that decision. More than that. She’s an excellent mother. And he can only imagine how difficult it must be to balance work commitments while being a single parent. 

Just when Travis picks up, and holds his phone close to his ear, is when he realizes quickly that she’s not half as happy as he expected her to be. It’s quite the opposite. Her little “Trav” causes him to worry immediately. His face gesture changes, and Ross notices. He signals his friend that he will step outside of the restaurant for a minute. It really is way too loud for them to have a private conversation right now. As soon as the big man opens the main door and steps outside is when he realizes how cold it really is. He’s just wearing a black t-shirt. Of course the New York winter wind would hit him hard. But that’s not what matters to him right now. What matters to him is that it’s quiet. That he can now hear her clearly. 

“Hey, Tay.” he says, and hears her sniffling. Immediately, his pulse rises. Something happened. He just knows. 

“Trav, I’m so sorry but.. can you talk right now for a bit?” 

Travis swallows. He feels goosebumps build all over his body. But this time, it’s not from the cold. 

“Of course, what is it? What happened?” 

He can hear her hestitate. And he hates every second of it. 

“I just.. I don’t even know why I’m calling you.” 

He can hear it clearly now. She’s crying. Almost sobbing. His stomach aches suddenly. He’s never heard her cry. And it’s a horrible feeling.

“Hey, what is it? I’m always here for you, you know that.” 

He can hear her take a shaky breath at the end of the phone line. 

“I’ve just had the worst two days with my mom at the hospital. She’s had her last procedure and the side effects were.. just so bad. It’s so horrible seeing your mom be too sick to speak with you. And.. and instead of just being home with my child right now, I’m stuck in traffic since almost an hour. Eleanor is at her friend Gracies’ house. She.. she just met this little girl at Kindergarten the other day. She barely knows her. Blake dropped her off this morning and I was supposed to pick her up an hour ago. But I’m in traffic, Blake is in LA now, I can’t reach Ashley or Zoe. My dad is in Florida and Austin is in Chicago. No one fucking pics up their phones these days. And… and on top of all that, Gracies mother just called me that Eleanor seems to have a fever again and when I talked to her she was almost crying, and…”

Taylor stops for a moment, and he knows why. She’s overwhelmed. She’s in need of some help. And she turned to him. He can’t believe she turned to him. 

Travis opens his mouth, about to say what he knows could set off another bomb in her. But he’s bold tonight.

“I can pick her up for you. Get her home. Just give me the address and I…”

“Trav, that’s…” she hesitates for a second. “That’s very sweet but I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

Travis remains quiet. He disagrees with her. He completely disagrees. 

“Why not? Tay, I..” He takes a deep breath into the cold evening air. “I care about you. I care about your daughter, who I’ve never even met. I’m… I’m good with kids. Great, I’d say. I want to help out. There’s nothing worse than being sick as a kid and not being home.” 

Taylor listens to him talk. She takes her time, closes her eyes and leans her head back. A single tear is streaming down her cheek. This could be the worst decision she’s ever made. It easily could be. 

“I know.” 

It’s quiet. Travis hears her shaky breath. 

“Hey.” he says then. He got her attention now. 

“You trust me, right?” 

“Of course I do.” she says, not even hesitating for a second and it calms him immensely. She takes another breath, then opens her mouth again. 

“Thanks, Travis. Thanks so much. I.. I would love if you can pick her up.” she murmurs, a tear still running down her cheek. He smiles. For a moment, he can just smile. Because in a weird way, he hasn’t felt this happy in a very very long time. 

“I just.. I just need you to pick her up, tuck her into bed and make sure she’s fine. I’m trying to get home as fast as I can, but…but it might take an hour or two even.” her voice breaks again. Travis can hear that clearly. 

“Tay, it’s absolutely fine. I literally just finished dinner. I can pick her up. Give me the address, you speak to her to explain who I am and then I’ll get her home and bring her to bed. Really, I..” he sighs into the cold evening air. He knows she’s worried. But worrying about him handling a toddler shouldn’t be one of the things she’s worried about right now. After all, he loves children. Spending time with his nieces has been changing his heart forever in these past years. It has just confirmed that all he wants in this lifetime is to be a father himself one day. He just wishes she could give him the trust she needs in this moment. 

“Okay.” she croaks, still sniffling a little bit.  

“Everything will be fine. I promise you. Tell your driver to leave the highway and take a different route. And until you’re in New York, I’ll be watching your baby girl. I promise.” 

Taylor nods, a tear stil running down her cheek. She knew that being a single mother would be a challenge. But it’s these moments where she realizes what she gave up when leaving London. A family home. A mother in law who would watch Eleanor a lot. Two uncles who would check on Eleanor as soon as she wasn’t able to. Joe was a bad partner in the end. A bad father even. But she was never alone. She knows she’s got friends now in the city. But no one was there for her tonight. No one was there for her baby, except for him, who just happens to be in New York for work. She swallows. A tough realization that really hurts. 

“Thanks Trav. I will text you the address and call Gracie’s mom to speak to Eleanor and explain who you are. She…” Taylor stops for a second. “She’s usually very easy, but just make sure she doesn’t forget to take Mister Frogles home. She can’t sleep without him.” 

“Mister Frogles?” Travis asks, smiling. 

“It’s a frog. Don’t even ask.” 

He laughs quietly. He knows how upset Taylor is, but he couldn’t be more thankful that she trusts him enough with her daughter in this moment. 

“Alright. Send me the address, speak to Eleanor and then relax a little until you’re home. There’s nothing for you to worry about. I will call you as soon as I get her home.” 

“Thanks, Trav. Really… thanks.” 

He smiles, nods, even though he knows she can’t see him. 

“No need to say thanks. Speak to you in a bit.” 

___

Travis pushes the thick marble door to enter the building, checking his phone again. He must be in the right place. He’s never been in this part of town, but he definitely has seen these kind of Upper East Side buildings in the Woody Allen movies he used to watch with his mom when he was a kid. He’s always been fascinated by this city. Crazy to think that this is where a little child grows up. 

Travis looks around, trying to find apartment 3C. Suddenly, a door at the end of the luxurious corridor opens. An Asian woman peaks her head out, smiling nicely at him. 

“Travis?” 

“Yes, hi.” he says, relieved to have found the right home. 

“I’m.. I’m here to pick up Eleanor for Taylor?”

“Of course, Taylor just called. Come in.” 

Travis smiles thankfully, enters the warm home. This apartment is pretty impressive. At the end of the penthouse apartment is a generous floor to ceiling window, showcasing the city’s skyline and making up the entire backwall. It’s clearly one of those modern, minimalistic architectual digest apartments. He’s impressed, even though it’s a bit too cold and sterile for his taste. 

“So, I took her temperature a while back. She’s at a hundred right now. It all started a few hours ago, when I came into the room and the girls were playing and Eleanor complained about her sore throat. Poor thing is coughing all night. I gave her paracetamol before, but she’s pretty much just been asking about her mom, saying she wants to go home. Gracie is getting ready for bed now, but I couldn’t get Eleanor to lay down.” 

Travis just follows the woman, listens to her talking, but then again, can’t really focus on anything she says. His gaze falls onto the little blonde curly head sitting at the end of the playroom on the carpet. Her little cheeks read from her fever. Mister Frogles under her arm, and these same damn eyes on her face that he loves so much about Taylor. He knows, how awful this situation must be for Eleanor. A stranger coming to pick her up. When really, all she wants, is to be in her mom’s arms. 

“Hey, Eleanor.” he says then, the biggest smile on his face while standing in the door frame. He looks at her from the other end of the room, respects her space and wants to give her some time, not to get too close to her just now. He knows he’s tall and big, but he hopes she won’t get scared off. After all, his nieces have known him since they were babies. This little girl just meets him for the first time today.

“I’m Travis. But you can call me Travy if you want. I’m your mom’s friend. And your mom called me tonight to ask me to pick you up and get you home. Is that alright for you? Or do you want to stay here and wait for mommy?” he says gently, not forcing her to do anything. The little girl just sits there, looking at him with big eyes. He can’t help but smile some more. She’s really the most adorable little girl, aside from his nieces of course, that he’s ever encountered. And she looks just like Taylor. Her entire face just a miniature version of Taylor’s. But then again, she’s a lot quieter than Wyatt or Ellie. She’s shy. He gets it. 

“Ella, Travis will bring you home, mhm? Is that okay for you?” 

“Where’s my mommy?” she whispers then, a croaky voice coming from the little human. Travis swallows, looks directly into her eyes again. Instead of rushing to get her into the waiting car downstairs, he sits down at the end of the carpet for a minute. He still wants to give her some space. After all, he’s a stranger to her and the last thing he wants is to traumatize this little girl for life by making her feel like she’s being kidnapped by a big tall man. 

“Your mommy is stuck in traffic. Shall we call her?” Travis asks, already takes out his phone. Eleanor nods immediately, clearly holding onto her little frog teddy. “She was so worried about you being sick, so she called me to ask if I can drive you home and we can wait for her there.” 

Eleanor doesn’t say anything, just watches Travis closely. He can see in her eyes, that she’s not feeling well. Her eyes are glassy. Her cheeks a bit reddened. Travis quickly facetimes Taylor and she picks up within seconds. She looks beautiful as always, but he can sense the tiredness even through the crappy internet connection.

“Are you there?” she asks Travis, panic in her voice. 

“Yes, look who wants to say hi to you.” he smiles, turns the phone around so that Eleanor can clearly see her mom. 

“Honey, hi.” Taylor says, and Eleanor crawls closer to Travis. “Mommy, where are you?” she asks quietly into the phone and Taylor’s heart almost rips into a dozen pieces.

“I’m stuck in traffic baby, look.” she says, turning her own camera around to show her the standing cars on this driveway. 

“I hope I can be home soon, baby. Maybe one or two more hours.” 

Travis watches Eleanor’s face carefully. She doesn’t seem convinced yet, her eyes wandering intrigued from Taylor to Travis and back. He just smiles. He hopes he can gain her trust enough to get her to go with him.

“Baby, remember when I was away for the evening last week? When I said I’m seeing my friend? That was Travis. He’s a really really good friend of mommy. He’s really really kind. And you know what? He loves watching Bluey as well. Can you believe? It’s your favorite show!” 

Travis has to laugh a little at Taylor’s words but whatever she’s doing seems to work. Eleanor looks at him, still intrigued, but now a little smile on her face. 

“But Bluey is for children.” 

Both Travis and Taylor start laughing. 

“Very true, but you know what? I have three nieces, and two of them are just your age. And whenever I see them, we always watch Bluey together. It’s their favorite show on tv!” 

Eleanor nods, looks back at her mom on the phone screen. 

“It’s my favorite show too.” she says, still shy but definitely a little more open than before. 

“I thought so. Who’s your favorite character?” 

Eleanor starts thinking, and the shyness is coming through again. He smiles at her. She’s so adorable, it’s hard not to smile at this little girl. 

“I know who your favorite Bluey character is..” Taylor says at the other end of the line. 

“Elsa.” 

Both Travis and her laugh again. 

“Yeah her favorite person in the world is Elsa, nothing compares to that, not even Bluey.” Taylor says laughing at her baby girl, who seems a little captivated by the conversation with Travis. 

“Do you like Elsa more than Anna?” he asks, and Eleanor starts nodding. A big smile on her face now. 

“Yes because, because her hair is like my hair, just a bit longer. And she also sings like my mommy.” 

“That’s so true. You look a lot like Elsa actually.” Travis says and Eleanor giggles a little. Taylor just witnesses the little conversation at the other end of the line and her heart melts. She’s reminded in this moment why she kept on seeing Travis. Even after telling herself so many times that he’s not her type. He’s so, unbelievably, kind. And the fact that he’s winning Eleanor over that quickly shows her she’s not the only one impressed by his kindness. 

“My friend Emily looks like Anna.” Eleanor says then, her arms still holding onto Mister Frogles. “And.. and together we always play Elsa and Anna because my grandpa got me Olaf.” 

“You have Olaf at home?” Travis says with his eyes widened and the biggest surprise face on. “That’s so cool.” 

Eleanor nods, and Taylor can’t believe that her little shy daughter is not even facing the screen anymore at this point. Her gaze fully focused on Travis. She’s relieved. She’s so so relieved. 

“Honey, let’s go home with Travis and you can show him Olaf in your room. I’ll be there too in a bit. I love you so much, okay?” 

Eleanor nods. “Okay mommy.” 

“Alright, say goodbye mommy.” Travis says to the little girl, taking his phone in his hand again now. 

“Bye mommy.” Eleanor says, and Travis carefully hangs up. He hopes that the little girl will continue to be so engaged with him. 

“Come on, lets go home to Olaf, mhm?” Travis smiles at her and the little curly head nods. She slowly gets up and makes her way towards him. He can’t believe how trusting she is, gets up as well and just looks at Gracie’s mother passing him the little koala backpack. 

“Eleanor, your shoes are by the door.” she smiles and the curly head walks past him to the door, mister frogles securely under her arm. Travis makes his way behind the little child, smiles at her assuringly as she slips into her sneakers. After a few moments, he notices her stare while sitting by the door mat. For a moment, he’s confused.

“You good to go?”

“Can you help me?” the tiny voice asks, and Travis immediately nods, almost feeling embarrassed that he didn’t get it the first second. This is one of the things he’s not used to. Of course, a little toddler her age can’t tie her own shoes. 

Travis kneels down, a little awkward, tries to tie these tiny laces for her. But it’s not easy. Small humans have small shoes and small shoe laces. And his big Yeti hands definitely weren’t made to tie these. 

“Alright, good to go.” he says, glad to have passed this first challenge as a baby sitter. 

“Here’s your jacket, Eleanor.” Gracie’s mom says, helps her put on her little green puff jacket. 

“Bye Eleanor.” 

Travis now hears another tiny voice behind him. Gracie, not much taller than the blonde girl in front of him ran up to them from the living room, waves her hand at Eleanor in her pajamas. Travis smiles at the small girl. 

“I hope you feel healthy again soon.” she says, and it makes Travis smile. These two children are really adorable. 

“Thanks.” Eleanor says quietly. Her cheeks are still a bit flushed from her fever. 

“Alright girly, lets get you home.” Travis says to the the miniature version of Taylor, smiles thankfully at Gracie’s mother and the little girl. As soon as the door to the apartment closes, he feels a small hand reach for his fingers. A little surprised, Travis holds onto her hand, slowly makes his way to the stairs with her. 

“I’m sure you’re so happy to go home, mhm?” he says, trying to make the little five year old as comfortable as possible - considering the fact that he’s a total stranger, after all. 

“Do you know where my home is?” she asks then, looks up at the tall man easily towering her. He nods, starts walking the stairs with her. 

“I do. I’ve never been to your home but your mommy has sent her security guys and they will drive us home.”

Eleanor seems happy with that answer, doesn’t say anything further. With a tiny backpack over his shoulder and the little blonde girl on his index finger, he realizes that walking the steps from the third floor, if you’re a small human, actually takes a lot longer than he thought. Travis patiently waits, then has an idea. 

“Want me to carry you piggyback style?” 

Eleanor smiles, nods immediately. He knew she would love that idea. After all, Elliott and Wyatt love whenever he carries them around like a camel in the desert. 

“Okay, crawl onto my back.” He says, now fully kneeing on the carpet of the hallway. Eleanor reaches for his shoulders and within a second, Travis stands up, holding securely onto her small feet. All he can hear is the little girl’s giggles and he feels his heart expanding in size. To her amusement, Travis now jogs down the stairs, making sure she’s bouncing around properly which clearly makes her laugh even more. As soon as they step outside the building door, Travis slowly knees down to let her stand on the floor again. He smiles at her, makes sure to fix her jacket in the cold. 

“That was fun, huh?”

“Yeah.” She smiles in her little voice, and he’s glad he could entertain her for a bit. 

“Okay, let’s get you home.” 

He opens the car door, helps Eleanor crawl into her car seat. 

“Hi Michael.” she says to his surprise. Eleanor seems to know the driver well. 

“Hi Miss Eleanor.” the man smiles at the little girl. 

“My mommy is in traffic.” she says with big eyes, doesn’t mind Travis fastening the safety belt of her car seat. He can’t help smile at Eleanor. She’s too sweet. Her mom being in traffic is obviously a big thing for the five year old. 

“I heard.” the man says, smiling into the rearview mirror. 

“Here you go.” Travis mumbles, fixing Mister Frogles on her lap before closing the door and getting into the back of the car right next to her. As soon as the car starts, he can see Eleanor looking out the window. Travis takes a deep breath, takes a look at his phone again. He smiles at the screen. 

Thanks a million for this, Trav. Let me know if you need anything. Just call. We’re moving again now, so hopefully I’ll be home soon.

He knows that Taylor is anxious about leaving Eleanor and him alone for the first time, but this is his chance to prove to her that letting him enter Eleanor’s life won’t be so bad after all. He replies to her text quickly, then looks back up to Eleanor. She’s fast asleep, her flushed cheek pressed against the headrest of the children’s car seat. He smiles at the little girl. After all, she’s still sick. Carefully, Travis holds his finger against her forehead. She’s hot. She definitely has a fever. Poor thing. 

After a twenty minute drive home, the car comes to a hold. A big gate opens and the car disappears in the private parking lot of her Tribeca home. Within minutes, the car comes to a halt and the driver turns around to Travis. 

“Do you need help with her?” 

“All good, buddy. Thanks.” 

Travis appreciates the offer, but he can handle the sleepy toddler himself. He carefully leaves the car, makes his way around to open the door next to Eleanor. Her sleeping face now facing him fully, and he need to smile again. She looks just like her mother when she sleeps. No question whose baby girl this is. 

Travis slowly opens the belt of her seat. Two big hands land under her arms. He’s got a good grip on a child her size by now, having had lots of occasions where he carried one of his nieces. With her koala bag still around his shoulder, he takes the sleeping girl onto his arm. Her head immediately comes to a rest on his shoulder. Travis holds onto the little body, making sure that Mister Frogles won’t fall down either. Gladly, he closes the car door and follows the driver to the elevator. 

___

The elevator door opens, and Taylor finally makes her way into the hallway of her generous New York apartment. Light is coming from the living room. She swallows. A few more steps up the hallway, but no Travis in sight. Brandon is carrying her suitcase into her bedroom. She thanks him quietly, but her mind is already with Eleanor. With her sneakers still covering her feet, Taylor makes her way upstairs to Eleanor’s room. The little night light lighting up the hallway. As soon as she enters the doorframe, she covers her mouth with her hand. Eleanor is tucked into her bed, flushed cheeks, her face fully pressed against Travis. Like a giant he’s laying on top of her bed. His arm around her sleeping child, her favorite book on his chest. One foot on the floor, the other one in the small bed next to her. She leans her head against the door frame, can’t help but giggle quietly. 

Travis immediately signals her to be quiet. She covers her mouth with her hand again. She expected a lot, but she did not expect him to be this good with her baby. Travis takes a careful look at Eleanor, wants to convince himself that she’s really asleep now. She watches him amusedly. This big man trying to untangle himself from her sleeping baby. And it does something to her. Seeing this view definitely makes it clear to her that all boundaries are broken. He’s in her daughters bed. He’s in her house. He’s… here. And it feels better than she thought it would. 

Travis slowly places the children’s book on her nightstand, tries not to make a single sound. He slowly makes his way towards Taylor. She says nothing, just hugs him tightly. And he knows why. She’s thankful. So thankful that he was there for Eleanor when she couldn’t be. He returns the hug proudly. Thankful that she let him in. This time, really. 

“I hope she’s sleeping now.” he whispers, “I put her down when we got here but she kept waking up coughing. I made sure she drank some water. Then we read something and she passed out half an hour ago. But everytime I got up, she would wake up, so I…” 

“Trav.” she interrupts him, whispering just like he did. 

Her face says everything. 

“Thank you. So much. I..” she stops for a second, looks at Eleanor and back at him again. 

“I will give her some medicine and take her temperature quickly, okay? Give me five minutes.” 

He nods immediately. 

“Of course, take all the time you need. I.. I’ll wait downstairs.” he says. She smiles at him appreciatively. She’s so glad he understands that she needs to check on her baby first. She’s so glad he’s as unconditional as he’s been two hours ago. Travis watches her disappear in Eleanor’s room. For a moment he stands there, still unsure whether he should help her. But he knows that she’s got this. He knows that he should give her some space right now. Slowly, he makes his way downstairs. 

___

With tired steps and her hair still in a messy bun, he can watch Taylor come down the stairs. She’s wearing the same sweatpants as before, looks at him sitting on the sofa. He immediately gets up. She doesn’t stop, just walks straight into a hug with him. Standing in her living room, he says nothing, just breathes her in for a second. Taylor closes her eyes. She won’t let go of him. She can’t. 

“Thank you. Thank you for everything. I…” 

“Is she asleep?” he asks into the hug, his hands stroking her back up and down. Taylor slowly lets go off him and presses a gentle kiss onto his lips. He almost gets dizzy, because she’s more gentle than she usually is. 

“Yeah. Her fever was still at 100.4. I gave her some cough syrup and paracetamol. I’ll have to call her pediatrician tomorrow..” she rambles on, and Travis can see in her face that she’s worried. 

“It’s so weird, when we were in London she barely got sick. Every since she’s here, she’s having something else every week. I..” 

“Hey, it’s normal. It’s good.” he calms her, both his arms still around her. She looks up at him, enjoys listening to him speak. She never thought she’s dare think this thought ever again. But it’s nice not being alone with her sick daughter right now. It’s nice not going through it all by herself again. 

“It’s building their immune system. I’m sure the doc will tell you the same thing. It’s probably a virus or something.” he assures her. She nods, then cuddles her head into his chest. He can’t believe how much she’s opened up to him tonight. She’s needy. And he absolutely loves it. She called him when she was at her lowest. She turned to him when she was in need of help. And all he wants is for her to know that he’s here for her. He will always be here for her. 

Travis lowers his head, presses a kiss onto her hair. 

“Have you eaten yet?” he asks, she shakes her head on his chest. 

“How about, I order you some food and we sit and talk a bit, huh?” 

She doesn’t reply for a moment, and he’s prepared for her to ask him to leave. His offer might be a bit too much. After all, this entire day must have been too much for her. But to his surprise, Taylor lets go of him and nods. She wipes away one last tear from her eyes. She’s tired. More than that. She’s pale. He can’t imagine what she’s been through with her mom these past days. Just to come home to a sick child. 

“That would be great.” she sniffles. He smiles, both hands on her upper arms now, stroking her gently before he lets go of her to reach for his phone on the coffee table. 

“Pizza?” he looks at her. 

“Sounds great. Trav?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Can you stay the night too, please?” 

He looks at her sitting down on her couch, reaching for the blanket. She’s a mess right now. An emotional, tired mess. And she’s reaching for him, instead of pushing him away. 

“Of course. Always.”  

[turnnblurb]

Don’t Fear the Reaper, Part One

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Pilot!Reader, Ex situationship!jake seresin, platonic!phoenix, platonic!rooster, Callsign: Reaper

Summary: meet cute with bob turned love at first sight turned oblivious idiots

Warnings: 18+, eventual smut, mentions of death, grief, drowning, childhood trauma, abuse, alcohol, alcoholism, scars

Note: this part is very platonic heavy because I love nat and rooster and reapers dynamic with them. Love you, mean it. Thank you for reading!!!

You wake up differently every day. Strewn into a different position each morning from your restless sleep. An ache here one day, and an ache there the next. But, without a doubt, each time you close your eyes to lullaby yourself to sleep with useless ideas of hope, you wake up there.

Head Beach. Brunswick. Maine. One of your father’s last deployments.

It’s easier to feel the damp air on your skin than it is to hear Nat’s call for you from your now-shared kitchen. Easier to feel the plummeting weight on your lungs and your baby brother’s cold hand in yours than it is to feel-

No, now you definitely feel someone shaking you awake. You hear the call of your name right in your ear now.

“Dude, I’ve been calling for you for five minutes,” She stands there in her morning glory, Natasha Trace, your best friend of hell- you don’t know how many years. You stopped counting after you two graduated from the Naval Academy. Time had lost its track after that, pulling you from base to base.

“Sorry, guess I underestimated how tired I was,” You had spent the last week pulling a 4x8 cargo trailer from your pickup down I-95. New Orleans to Fightertown. Well, that drive only took you nearly a full day. It was more so unpacking the last four years of your life into a shared rental with an undefined lease that had pressed on your exhaustion.

“Don’t stress, it’s only half past 9,” Nat laid on the right hand side of your now mused and unmade bed. For someone who was so adamant on waking you, she was now a hypocrite. She let her eyes wrench shut, a soft sigh escaping her mouth.

“Never in a million years would I think that we’d be back here.” You turned to face her as she spoke comfortably. You had never had many girl-friends growing up. You relished the femininity behind shared moments like these. Moments you couldn’t find in your memories of wrestling with your brothers, or sleeping in tents with other pilot’s sons at the age of 8. Because they were always sons.

Sometimes you would thoughtlessly wonder if Natasha Trace was your soulmate, or at least your guardian angel.

At the Naval Academy, her bunk below yours. Comforting you with kind words when your frustrated hands fussed with your gelled hair, taking the brush from your hands silently to do the work for you. Your mother left after the ‘accident’ and your father only ever knew how to work a high and tight.

A few months later, her coming out to you as she weeped into your hands, scared of the love she felt for others. Moments later when you weeped into her’s because you had never known romantic love of your own.

Years later at Top gun when you had a glimpse of that love and the hope that came with it. Pledging to you that you were worth more than some ripped out of the plastic Ken doll who chose to call himself ‘Hangman.’ He had miserably led you on after flirting with you relentlessly. “I guess we know what his callsign stands for now.”

Now, even more time had passed and by whatever thread fate had placed into your hands, you tied yourself to her once again. From ash to flame, Natasha “Phoenix” Trace was your best friend.

“Hey, at least this is actually a home. Not some Navy funded apartment complex where we have to deal with Roos’ banging on the wall at 2 in the morning,” You two share a chuckle, the vibrato of it fading back into a comfortable silence.

If Natasha is your best friend, then Bradley Bradshaw was your third brother. He was the pilot’s son asleep next to you in the tent. After Uncle Goose died, Carole found comfort in your family. She held everyone a little closer, until your family was torn away from her and her son too. She never blamed your dad for moving out of Miramar, not even one bit. She held you in your hospital bed after it had happened. Saw the pain in the boy’s eyes as they looked at their angel helplessly. She helped wrap the dishes in the newspaper the next week.

You had not seen or heard from a Bradley Bradshaw until your first time being invited to Top gun. Your head shot up at the familiarity of it all. All you heard as a reflection of that name was your dad’s fake-angry voice ringing through your home as he chased after the boy and your older brother Elliott with a penis shaped mark on his sleep written face.

You recall chasing after him after briefing, tears in your eyes. There wasn’t much chasing to be done as he had the same turmoil of emotions bubbling in his own stomach at the call of your name. His hug was no longer weak, it was fully supported by years upon years of training, and a grief only felt by a childhood best friend. His grip could have left an imprint on your skull.

Even at the age where boys and girls began to separate, Bradley and you had always had one thing in common. The dream, if not the need, to be exactly what your father’s are and were. That’s why when he had asked if you knew what your Uncle Mav had done, you feigned confusion.

You were there of course, on Thanksgiving day, about a week after Pete had decided on his action. You watched as your father, who sat across from him, clenched and unclenched his fists at the confession slipping from his closest friend’s mouth. Felt the acid form in your throat at the fire forming on his tongue as he fought for a kid who was not his.

“If his father were here right now, he would see for himself just how cowardly of an act this is.” It should be known that a man deemed in the air as ‘Hermes’ would knock the wit out of another man’s dialogue. A knife would not dare clatter at the softly spoken, I promised her Maverick choked back.

That’s why you let Bradley tell you his side of the story. You let him cry on your shoulder as he voiced his fear of being so far behind in his career, all for another man’s fear that he would break a futile promise.

“How is he doing?” Nat’s pondering brought you back to her presence.

“We called the other day, said he was being deployed again, but couldn’t tell me much more than that. Secretive little bastard. Told him the same thing.” You cleared your throat and began picking at your thumb, a nasty habit. In times like this you wished you two had shared a less dangerous passion, maybe you both would have joined Elliott’s band and moved up to Chicago with him when he left.

It was pitiful having the same fear that wracked Mav, but after Carole’s death it seemed to be the only option. You didn’t want to choose sides. You didn’t want to disappoint her. You wanted Bradley to be safe in the air, on land, hell, wherever he was taken.

“He can handle his own,” She put a comforting hand in your hair as you mulled over every way that you could possibly lose Bradley Bradshaw. “As long as he’s not left alone in a kitchen with an evil grilled cheese.”

“Will we ever let him live that down?” The memory of a panicked apron wearing Rooster nearly knocking a hole into your apartment door pulled a hearty laugh from the two of you. After not only setting his, but his neighbor’s fire alarm off, he decided that it was much easier to mooch off the two of you for his meals.

“Negative.” Nat let out a final puff of laughter as she pulled herself from your bed, stretching her long limbs to reach a hand out to you. “Up and at ‘em Reaper.”

&

Your left knee didn’t ache. The shooting dull feeling that had you at a slight limp whenever you attempted to go anywhere in the muggy environment of New Orleans. The scarring encasing your knee cap was the only physical reminder that the accident had a much more emotional reminder. The feeling had been replaced by, well, nothing. Just a bead of sweat as your skin soaked in the dry California heat. At this moment you were thankful for that. And, Trader Joe’s.

You could have put the whole grocery store in the shopping cart if it wasn’t for Nat’s mom like reflexes.

“When will you ever eat…” She turned the object with questioning eyes, “Dill pickle hummus…?”

“It sounds good.” Your shrug fell on narrowed eyes.

“I knew we should’ve eaten before this. We are getting sandwiches before we leave.” Your lips and stomach smiled at that.

The day was filled with errands, and more errands. Checklists that were scratched onto the backs of very long receipts over last night's shared bottle of wine.

- Living room rug

- Bathroom rug

- Hallway rug

- How many rugs do we need Nat?

- Shut up.

- A good amount of groceries (and alcohol)

You left your roommate to her meal prepping in order to find the snacks that she would inevitably indulge in on the desert isle. Chocolate chip cookies. Cosmic brownies. Nat’s favorite oatmeal cookies were the last box standing. You were praying this got you out of dishes for at least a week.

“Oh! I’m sorry!” A smooth voice rang from beside you, causing your heels to lift off the ground only slightly, you hoped. Instead of cardboard, your hand closed around a much softer and human-like alternative. Might you mention an Adonis-like alternative at that.

He’s all soft smile and ocean gaze as he lifts his hands in feigned surrender, as if you could ever dream of laying your hands on him in any way shape or form. He’s standing at least 6 '2, wire lenses sitting on his nose, clad in a dark blue hoodie with words in yellow letters reading ‘US NAVY’, a small detail amongst small details that won’t mean anything until later in the evening.

“They’re all yours.” You forgot about the box still under your hand as he motions to the cookies. Right, cookies.

“Are you sure? Your hand was there first. They aren’t even for me, I promise I won’t miss them.” You pray your words don’t come out as one embarrassing stumble, but fear they do anyways. The slight smile never leaves his face.

“That’s even more reason to give them to you. I support good deeds.” He waves you off with a gentle hand in the air, you catch the watch on his wrist, wondering silently how much time has passed since you left Phoenix in that aisle.

“I’ll take them, for good deeds. But, the next box is yours.” You match his smile as gracefully as you can. Knowing you probably look like a kid in a candy store eyeing the newest supply. When was the last time you felt this? You don’t even know his name.

“And, if I ever see you in this Trader Joe’s again, I’ll hold you to that.” His laugh fell like music on your ears. Could you get him to do it again? Could you record it sneakily?

“Thank you, hopefully this gets me out of my roommate duties.” He laughs again, with a slight shake of his head. He lifts his hand in another wave, signaling his exit.

“Don’t thank me yet, you owe me.” He passes by you with a friendly wink.

You have to muster up enough strength to get your feet moving from where they are frozen to the ground. You silently tell yourself to shut up as you wonder if you just met the love of your life in a goddamn Trader Joe’s.

&

You refuse to tell Nat about your meet cute that wasn’t a meet cute and was just a totally normal conversation with a totally normal stranger. You wish you had the confidence around the male gender that you did as a child. The ability to pin them to the ground and make them beg for their life, well in a completely metaphorical way, of course.

If you were anyone else you would have offered your number, so maybe you could gift him the oatmeal cookies sooner rather than later. If you looked like the girl he was probably after you would have kissed him right there. If you were anyone else.

If Robert Floyd were anyone else he would’ve done the same thing.

Who the hell winks at women anymore? Naval Aviators. He felt like a douche. He muttered softly to himself through the Trader Joe’s, to his Tacoma, and in the driver’s seat.

“You owe me??” He finally says it loud enough to where it meets his own ears when he’s alone. His brows furrow at his own clumsiness. He’d never said those words in his life, no one had ever owed him anything. Well, maybe his sisters when they stole from his Toy Story piggy bank in Grade 4.

If I were anyone else, he thinks to himself the whole drive home.

You’re back at home. That word still feels unfamiliar to you, and it has since you moved away from your father. But, you think it’s something you could get used to.

It’s not far from the apartment complex you and Nat were originally housed in a few years ago. A 1960 something one story with white brick and green shutters. Ivy of all sorts climbing the windows, you’ll have to do housekeeping eventually. Inside is all stained wood and tacky tile, but with your best friend, it is definitely home.

It feels more like home with her fussing over your hair in the bathroom mirror. Giving unimpressed looks at you through the reflection everytime you wiggle too much.

“I don’t understand why we have to go to The Hard Deck the night before our first day, and I absolutely loathe that we have to do it in Khakis.” While she gels the wispy hairs on your head back, you busy yourself with your pins and badges. You can never do it right, and always end up poking your thumb.

“It’s tradition Reap, it’s bad luck to break tradition.” She pulls at the bun to make sure it’s taut, and brushes your ironed khaki shoulders, “Plus, we both know we’ve flown with hangovers more times than I’ve had to do your hair.”

You roll your eyes and let her win, she’s not wrong. It’s not difficult to recall drunken nights with her and Bradley, squeezed onto the smallest couch in the world, provided by the shittiest apartment complex known to man. Nights howling over awful Family Feud answers and worse beer.

You pick up a few more things around rooms, at least wanting to be prepared before meeting Nat at the door. Another tradition you have is rock, paper, scissors over who has to drive. Or, more realistically, who is allowed to drink the most. You win.

“Ugh, I’m driving your truck. Better gas mileage.” You shrug, stepping out before her and letting her lock the door with your keys.

&

Nostalgic is one way to feel about exiting your truck in The Hard Deck parking lot. Another would be less enthusiastic, appalled. You had never seen the place so overpopulated.

Sure, it had been what? 3-4 years since you had last stepped foot through the doors of your favorite bar, but is that enough time for this many people to spawn in Fightertown, USA. You can see a wave of khaki through the door, you spot it the same time Nat does.

“Don’t hold your breath, actually maybe do, it looks like there might be a stench.” You nudge her playfully as you walk up to the short building. It is a sight for sore eyes, you can admit. You no longer feel dreaded nerves at unfamiliarity, because The Hard Deck is as familiar as it gets.

Beer, sweat, and seemingly your own father’s playlist fill your senses overwhelmingly at once. You have to shoulder past a few people with verbal apologies to even lay eyes on Penny Benjamin at her bar. She quickly spots you with a beautiful smile and a nod, you return it, a nonverbal promise of a hug when you can actually reach her.

Phoenix spots someone else before you do.

“Seresins here.” A scowl falls on her face and yours falls flat. It takes you no time to spot him as well, his eyes already on you before yours are on him. He lends you a smirk and a wink. A wink so the opposite from the one you were gifted earlier in the day. A wink that sends a bite of venom right into your tongue. You look up at Phoenix.

“That’s fine.” She knows it’s not. Knows that if he steps a foot closer to you she’ll have him thrown into the pool table he stands in front of. You know it’s fine. Because she told you once that he was worth none of your tears, and you believed her. You dug the grave for those emotions long ago.

“He’s not the only asshole here,” You’d believe her, but her tone was noticeably lighter. Before you could question her words you spot two more familiar faces.

“Holy shit!” A voice belonging to none other than Rueben ‘Payback’ Fitch graced the air. You were engulfed in a hug before you could get out a response. His WSO squeezes you before you could get a breath from the last hug.

“I guess they really are calling anyone back to Top Gun these days.” You laugh in disbelief, still hanging tight to your old friends.

“Well, you’re here short stack, so I guess so.” Rueben chuckles before pulling you in for another hug.

“Well what do we have here!” It should be difficult to ignore that voice in such a crowded room, but it isn’t. Not when the voice belongs to the most arrogant pilot in Naval history. “Family reunion?”

“Fellas this here’s Bagman.” Phoenix crosses her arms at him, looking back to you for your own comfort. You don’t need it.

You don’t need it because in trying to ignore the situation in front of you, you found a different situation to your right. In a corner, with a cup of peanuts in his hands. Your mouth goes agape, and it would be a lie to say you aren’t shamelessly staring right at him when his eyes finally meet yours.

His facade matches yours immediately, he stifles a laugh in surprise and amusement. You smile right at him, shaking your head in another bout of disbelief. You’re rudely pulled out of the silently shared moment.

“Reaper.” Hangman deadpans your name with the same stupid smirk on his face. Your smile is gone. You give him no reply. Only a tap on Phoenix’s shoulder as a quiet exit sign before you head to the bar. You don’t miss the way eyes follow you behind wire frame glasses.

You let out a huff. Then you pause. Nearly being knocked over by a too-tall man in your state of shock. The night feels like one really weird mixed up dream where people from different places in different points of your life conjoin into one memory. Because at the bar sits no one other than Pete Mitchell.

“Uncle Mav?!” He twists on the barstool at the sound of a voice he’s heard since the owner of it learned to speak. He feels old as he sees the girl he raised in the bar he first blacked out in. He feels grief when he realizes what her being here means. A soft call of your first name, uncommon in a bar full of Naval Aviators.

“Kid, what the hell.” He pulls you in for a hug, tucking your head into his neck like he had always done.

“Does dad know you’re here? With me?” After the fight, they had forgiven each other immediately. There was no use in fighting, there was no use in losing each other.

“No, if I’m being honest, I’m not even completely sure what I’m here for.” He squinted his eyes as if you knew the answer, but you just shrugged, letting him know that the feeling was mutual. A clearing of a throat pulls you both to face the center of the bar, where Penny stands with Mav’s beer in hand.

“I was promised a hug.” She gives you a once over to take in your growth before reaching over the bar on her own accord. If it was anyone else, the wood digging into your hips would be unbearable, but it was Penny. “Your dad called me, told me to take good care of you. To me that means get you good and drunk, so while you’re here you better not lay a dime on this bar top.”

“Oh, so she gets a call and I don’t.” Maverick rolls his eyes at the tendencies of your father. You give him a pat on the back, and another side hug. Your weird fever dream of a reunion has distracted you from the fact that Penny has already set two long islands on the bar, one for you one for Phoenix. And, from the fact that your childhood best friend has already sauntered his way over to the pit of Aviators.

“Love you, mean it.” You bid your goodbyes to both of them. Watching your feet and the drinks in your hands as you navigate the room, making sure you don’t stumble or spill. You hear his voice, and the latter situation becomes much more difficult to handle.

“Where’s trouble?” Of course he’s not in khakis. Of course you can’t see anything but his Hawaiian clad back because he’s so damn tall.

“ROOS?” Natasha must have sensed your slipping grip on the drinks as she swiftly grabs them out of your hands before you are pulled into yet another life threatening hug.

“THERE SHE IS.” Rooster pulls unwanted attention and Phoenix all but cackles at the way you are lifted nearly 5 feet off the ground. You grumble at him before he sits you back down on your feet.

“You are such a liar.” You narrow your eyes at him, but fail to muster up any fake anger because it’s Rooster. You’re back at Top Gun with Rooster. You wonder if this is how your father’s felt, you almost know that he’s thinking the same thing.

“And before you say anything, we’re both liars. I knew too.” Phoenix pulls you to her side, standing closer to the pool table. “More importantly this is Bob, my new WSO.”

You wonder if she has a sixth sense, then you answer your own question because of course she does. Standing at the head of the pool table is presumably Bob, better known to you as someone you owe a box of oatmeal cookies too. You shyly smile at him.

“Hi Bob, I’m Reaper.” You stick out your hand for him, he grabs it immediately. He has a strong grip, you wonder if yours was this strong when you grabbed his hand at the store. “If I had known my best friend’s life was in your hands, I definitely would’ve let you have those cookies.”

“Well, Reaper. Looks like you owe me two boxes now.” He laughs for you once again, and you notice the curl of his lips.

“I’ll give you three if you tell me your callsign.” Your hand is still in his. Rooster and Phoenix share a look, an all knowing look. Like they just solved the world’s first mystery.

“Two works just fine, ma’am. It’s Bob.” He blushes slightly. He’s not a Hangman, he’s not a Payback, or Rooster. He’s just Bob. He lets your hand drop softly with one pat from his free one. You look back at Rooster then quickly back to him.

“I’m jealous. You might have the best callsign in all the Navy.” He chuckles at you as if you are joking, but both you and Rooster know that when you were younger all you wanted your callsign to be was your name.

“Figured nothing suited me better than my own name, well nickname. Robert was my second option.” Robert Floyd. Your eyes flitted down to his badge when they had the chance. You wondered where he was from, you knew he was stationed in Lemoore, but his accent was anything but Californian. It was mature, it was smooth and at times a bit slurred, you’d noticed.

No prior experience with the male gender could have ever prepared you for what Robert “Bob” Floyd was offering you. You come to find out that he’s older, a graduate of the academy five years before yourself, two years before Rooster should’ve graduated.

The night moves through bouts of long islands and shared stories. You team up with Bob for a game or two of pool, absolutely demolishing Payback and Fanboy both times. He gives you a high five each time. You mentally tally each time you two touch, by accident or purpose.

When Phoenix drives you two home, you let her excitement of the months to come lull you into a state of self pity. Because if you were anyone else it would work.

If you were anyone else, you’d fall in a mutual love with one of the most profound men you have ever met. He’d swoon for you, give you the first love you have prayed for over nearly the past 30 years.

He’d hold your hand on top of dinner tables, reach down to tie your shoes, play in your hair as you drifted off into a nightmare, kiss your scar on a path to much a greater expression of love, bathe you when you’re old and brittle.

If you were anyone else.

As Bob drives himself home, he settles into the idea that if he were anyone else he could hold you how Rooster did.

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

[oneknightstand-if]

Say deep into the romance(the notorious L word has been said and everything), how protective of the MC's are the RO's? And how would they handle losing the MC(i,e the MC died in the final battle/sacrificed themselves to win the day or something angsty like that)?

Well, a bunch of the ROs will already be trying to protect the MC as much as they can even before any romance, so there's not too much room to improve there. Also high affinity platonic bond can trigger this as much as any romance.

Merlin: Already the resident bodyguard/babysitter/cat-herder of the group. May give the MC a bit more attention when the group is in danger... but they're already watching over you. They'd perhaps feel more regret if they had to cut the MC loose.

For them, MC's death is... expected. Human lives are so ephemeral, after all. They'll always remember you... even thousands of years later and will bring the MC up in random conversations to random people. Probably MC's most embarrassing moments. For anyone paying attention & talking extensively to them in the game, Merlin already has repeatedly brought up their last longterm lover.

Biggest change here would be Merlin nearly killing themself to make certain that the MC's soul doesn't get dragged to Heaven or Hell. That's the fate that they'd find horrific for a loved one, not the natural death expected of all mortals.

Adrian: He's already potentially carrying the MC away from danger through half the city whether they like it or not so there's no room for Adrian to get more protective without going full yandere on you.

If the high affinity MC is dead, then Adrian is also most likely dead as well. He's the most ride or DIE of all the ROs and this already has implications if you go through the route where the MC refuses to leave their apartment and gets kidnapped by Merlin and Adrian.

Arthur: Due to his nature, he's already MAXIMUM THE PROTECTOR. He may be paying a bit more attention to you during times of danger, but he's already protecting you to his full capability and won't be acting any differently... after all, he's the High King and can't prioritize your safety over all others.

The same goes for the MC's death. The Post Apocalypse is still going to be a complete clusterfuck so he won't have time to stop and grieve. (The same as he won't have time to stop and grieve the fall of Camelot and the deaths of most of the people he knew because unlike the other Harbingers who reincarnated or who actually lived through the 1500 years span of time, to him Camelot fell last week.)

He'll create a suitable memorial customized exactly to the MC's tastes once things have calmed down. And Merlin will sneak over to comfort him, because Merlin's one of the few who can see past Arthur's strong front.

Percy: He's going to be hanging around a high affinity MC a lot, romanced or not. You're probably not going to notice much difference protection-wise as he's the sort who'd jump in to help you without a moment's notice even if he didn't like you.

At the MC's death, he'd probably disappear into a forest for several weeks without anyone being able to find him. He'll eventually return to the group though because he knows that he's needed. The MC would've been his first romantic love... and most probably will be his last as well.

4̷0̸4̸ ̷E̷r̷r̵o̴r̵ ̶N̶o̴t̷ ̴F̵o̸u̵n̶d̵: [SPOILERS]

Cassandra: She's a cop, so she's already keeping a protective eye out on the entire group as a whole. She'll be making extra special precautions for a high affinity MC. (This is probably one of the safest positions to have during the Apocalypse... as long as the MC behaves themselves).

Cassandra has some pretty traumatic stuff in her background, so this won't be the first lover she's lost. Her reaction will also depend on how you went... in an awesome blaze of glory (she'll build a statue for you) or something painfully drawn out & full of regret (heads will roll).

Vivian: Uh... you are probably going to need to have a 'discussion' with Vivian regarding her protectiveness. It can get a bit overwhelming at times. Like Merlin, she is well aware of the inherent ephemeral nature of a mortal.

So wouldn't it be better if she just 'took care' of all those people who approach you, just in case they turned out to be dangerous? And actually, why don't you stay with her at the bottom of the lake from now on? All the time. That would be very safe.

Otherwise, whatever killed the MC better hope it's already dead before Vivian gets at them.

Gwen: She's more the type that people protect than the type who protects people. The support from the background type. But you get close enough, that will not stop her at all and she will absolutely try to protect you to the best of her ability. Like right up there in the frontlines. You both may need to end up saving each other in that case.

About the MC's death... it's fine. It's fine. You've already died and reincarnated once. It can happen again. She'll be waiting for you. Eternally if necessary.

Lorelei: She'll already be highly protective of certain types of MCs (romanced or otherwise). Unlike some of the others, there'll actually be a noticeable change in her demeanor.

She's not the type to ever abandon someone in danger, but she will absolutely prioritize a romanced or high affinity MC over others. To the point where highly skilled fighter MCs may need to tell her to take a step back because she's jumping in even when it would be better that she did her own thing.

Will be quietly having a BSOD upon the MC's death (which she' ll blame entirely on her failing to protect and be there for the MC at the last moment). She'll eventually come back to the group as the icy version of Wrath, barely interacting with others while still carrying out her duties. (The other Harbingers are going to really have their work cut out for them there.)

Broderick: Another one who's demeanor will change after getting close to him... especially after what happens in his subplot. He'll be constantly protectively hovering over high affinity MC. But just during the dangerous times. (Which is actually all the time.) The MC will probably need to work through a few issues with him.

He'll be completely gutted by the MC's death and not really functional for quite awhile after that point. Definitely a changed man (and not for the better). It might take years for him to recover.

[irisintheafterglow]

More Than It Seams (Chapter 2)

summary: you're a hero costume tech working for one of the biggest fashion companies in quirk society, and the days until the most important fashion event of the year are dwindling fast. if you weren't stressed enough, a certain half-and-half hero keeps appearing with rips in his suit. (pro!todoroki x reader)

word count: 1.4k

cw/tags: swearing, mentions of needles, probably inaccurate fashion design vocabulary, strangers to lovers, no specified pronouns for reader, mentions of food/eating

note: sorry for the shorter chapter, i got carried away with the first one establishing exposition oops. but! next chapter is gonna be real cute cuz it has pining! and angst! and stubborn shoto! hope you enjoy!

likes/reblogs/feedback are much appreciated!

It becomes an odd kind of routine, a handsome distraction walking into your office every day with some random, minor flaw in his costume; he started getting creative, presenting a tear in the sleeve, a loose button, an undone seam, and you start to wonder if he was wrecking his suit little by little on purpose. He visited at the same time every day, 11:30 sharp, and you started to watch the clock to see if he really did appear as if on a timer. 

On the first Friday he visited and one week before the ball, time seemed to run away from you as one problem stacked on top of another like a dread sandwich. One of your suppliers had run out of the fabric for Red Riot’s suit, pushing back finalization to late next week; Cellophane’s secretary had called to reschedule his final costume fitting, and you were trying to find a hero to come in earlier to fill his timeslot; the office had lost electricity for two hours because of a blown fuse upstairs; and, on top of all this, you’d foregone breakfast in favor of clocking into work early. 

“Psst,” your designer whispered to you as he slid boning into a corset. You followed his gaze to the clock and felt a mix of excitement and fear. Today was not the day for Shoto to visit, especially when stress painted your face and office morale was particularly low. 

But, in all his punctual glory, he exited the elevator at 11:30 exactly, dressed in his hero costume as if he’d just gotten off patrol. Wiping the sweat from your forehead and putting on your best “everything is fine” face, you waited for him at your station as he pushed open the gate and approached your table. Thankfully, your seamstresses had grown accustomed to his visits, and didn’t bat an eye as he passed them. You don’t bother with the faked surprise at his presence in your workplace again, letting out a long exhale as he questions your visible stress with a single arched eyebrow. 

“Hey.” 

“Hey.” The way he spoke to you evolved over the past few days, morphing from formal salutations to casual, slightly patronizing remarks. His keen intellect was matched by a biting wit that you guessed not a lot of people had the privilege of witnessing. He waited for your usual sarcastic remark at his presence, but you simply shook your head in exhaustion, eyes wordlessly conveying that everything had gone wrong. 

The silence punctuated the horrendously loud growl that your stomach released, reminding you of the breakfast you had skipped. 

“You haven’t eaten.” 

“No, but it’s alright. I’ll manage.” You unconsciously shrunk away from his piercing stare. 

“When is your break?”

“Technically ten minutes ago, but–”

His stubborn, even voice cut you off, a hand extended to raise you from your station. “Let’s go, then.”

“What?”

“Lunch. Right now, or I’m reporting you for insubordination. I have ideas for my Hero Ball appearance.” You couldn’t help but smile at his childish chivalry, taking his hand and playfully squeezing it once. A corner of his mouth quirked, and he squeezed back. “Do you like soba?” 

Coincidentally, there was a small soba shop within walking distance of your office. For heroes’ privacy, it didn’t allow cameras inside, and the owner greeted Shoto by name as she led you two to a small booth in the very back corner of the restaurant. She muttered something to Shoto about “finally bringing in that friend you like to visit” and his face turns the lightest shade of pink, barely noticeable if you weren’t already staring at him. As you sit together, conversation flows effortlessly about his family, his career, and his friends. You’d known that many of the top heroes had attended UA High School together, but you found yourself laughing at the intimately detailed stories of their teenage escapades. 

“Wait, so Bakugo was always like that? Scary?” 

“Midoriya’s existence tended to exacerbate his violent tendencies. But, to put it simply, yes. He has always been scary.” He smiled subtly in that way you had started to memorize by heart, making your stomach backflip despite the delicious food. 

“I had an, uh, interesting experience with Bakugo last year for the Hero Ball.”

“Interesting how?”

“He burnt my shit to ashes saying that it didn’t ‘match his fucking eyes!’” Shoto’s eyes widened as he choked on his soba, covering his mouth with his hand to hide his embarrassingly startled laugh. It was so easy with him. Easy to talk, easy to smile, easy to just forget about work expectations and focus on these little moments with him that no one else received. He gathered himself with several sips of water and a deep inhale, smiling boyishly as he exhaled. 

“So how did you end up becoming a designer? Did you always want to work for big companies, like M?”

“Honestly, no. I kinda took this job because it was the only place that would hire me and didn’t feel threatened by my quirk. This job was meant to be temporary, a way to make money so I could start my own business, but that fell through and I never left.”

“How long have you been with M?”

You hesitate, mentally counting the years in your head and unable to stop your face from falling as you answer. “Five years.” 

“You’ve been at a temporary job for five years?” You shrug and nod, suddenly feeling the urge to steer the subject away from something so personal. He must have sensed your reluctance to talk about it, too, as he nodded with finality. “I saw your designs in the office. It truly is remarkable how talented you are.” 

Your face heats up at his praise, and you stutter out a thank you as he pulls his phone from his pocket, holding it out to you with a magazine photo from the late 80s. The model wore a simple slightly closed buttonup tucked into highwaisted, straight-leg leather trousers. A subtle silver chain fell from the waistband of the pants and connected to the back pocket. It was an awfully casual look, and you looked up at Shoto in question before he swiped to an image of an intricately decorated trenchcoat. Flames ran from the corner of the front panel to the back where it exploded into a fire loosely resembling a crane taking flight. 

“You want to wear this?” You asked in disbelief at how bold the look would be in comparison to the simple two-piece suits he’d worn since the beginning of time. 

“If possible, yes. Would it be plausible to create something like this given such short notice?” 

The trenchcoat was beautiful, and it would probably be one of the few designs that you truly had fun creating. “I think I can. Did you want the fire embroidered on your left side and ice embroidered from the right, like your quirk?”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking.” You grin at him, excited to get started on such an eye-catching piece as he pulls his phone away. To your surprise, he held out his phone again, catching you in the middle of planning the colors of embroidery thread. On the screen was a contact profile for you to put in your phone number. “Here, so we can stay in contact.” 

“You know, guys usually ask for my number before the first date,” you innocently remark, pleased at the way Shoto’s complexion becomes slightly pinker. In a flash, it’s retrained into its carefully blank expression, but his voice has the slightest teasing air to it. 

“Consider it more of me taking care of a business partner. It’d truly be a shame if you starved to death before I could debut your work.” He gently swats your hand away when you reach for the bill, placing down a hefty, solid metal card. “Though, I do have the intention of taking you on a proper first date when the events of the ball have concluded.” 

You breathe out a laugh at the childish glint in his eye as you take his hand again, allowing him to lead you outside. A quick glance at his phone washes his face with concern and slight disappointment as he looks back at you and squeezes your hand one more time before releasing it. 

“I have to go. There’s been a coordinated attack on the Dynamight agency.”

“Oh, alright. Please be safe.”

A sharp white eyebrow arches teasingly. “Worried for me?” 

You nudge him gently with your shoulder, and he sways jokingly at the contact even though you know it takes much more to make him stumble. “No, just wanna make sure I don’t make such a show-stopping look for nothing.” The warmth in his smile almost makes your knees collapse. “I’ll see you Monday?” 

“I look forward to it.” 

[teddypickerry]

Hi idk if you’re requests are open but if so could you write a Nikki Sixx x reader where he confesses that he’s in love with the reader even though they have Ben like fighting. And the reason the have been fighting is because there both in rival bands. Idk man I just thought it was like cute lol

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐀𝐂 !

pairings! nikki sixx x fem best friend reader

word count! 1.8k

warnings! swearing (duh it’s nikki fucking sixx), mentions of sex (again… it’s a nikki sixx fic idk what the fuck you expect)

a/n! i kinda put my own spin on your request, i hope that’s good!! but guys I HAVE BEEN WANTING TO WRITE A NIKKI FIC FOR WAY TOO FUCKING LONG SO KEEP THEM REQUESTS COMING BC I NEED MORE OF MY SEXY ROCKSTAR. also can we talk about that photo???? looks can kill bc i am dead.

being in the rock scene as a woman is one of the hardest things to be conquered. or so, that's how it seemed. you couldn't go one day without being mistaken for some crazed groupie who was trying to sneak into the rehearsals. the rehearsals that were your very own, not some man's.

being the opener for mötley crüe was a new level of difficulty. when nikki sixx had asked you to fill in the position for their first world tour, you'd obliged, this gig possibly leaving you to the stardom you'd always desired. plus more time with the bassist boy who you'd had spent way too much time with in the past few years.

it started in '79 when you had just moved to the city of angels with your best friend who had already lived there a few months. when you arrived, she had a guy in her life who was living off her while in between bands. you thought this classified him as a jackass — or maybe she was just naive, but either way, it was a dick move. he ate all of your food, used all of the toilet paper, and had loud sex with your best friend all night long.

it was less than two months that you lived with the jackass before your best friend kicked him out. she had accused him of cheating which you found insane at the time, only to find truth behind that statement the more you got to know the sleazy bastard.

so, for some reason you found yourself at his band london’s show that same week. he spotted you instantly and ever since then — the two of you became an item. not the kind you think, but the kind that would kill the rest of the world for one another. the kind that had so much unspoken sexual tension but never once acted on it. too scared to ruin the relationship between the both of you. so here you were, nearly six years later, doing your hair to go out onstage to open up for his now national selling band.

"axl rose is a bad kisser, i'm just being honest." hannah, your vocalist, shrugged before applying her red lipstick in the mirror directly beside you and your hot roller set. the drummer snorted from the couch as she sipped on something that definitely wasn't water. "that's why you should have chose slash."

"it wasn't exactly a pick and choose, mila." hannah directed at the girl who balanced sticks in her hands before glancing down at you. "what about you y/n, who'd you fuck last night?"

"i left early. i went to the whisky with n-"

"with nikki," mila and hannah finished for you as you pursed your lips and took out your final curl. the two girls shared a look before their was a slight knock on the door. it opened before anyone could say a single thing though. speaking of the devil, nikki sixx stood their in all his glory. his cocky grin directed on his face, taking up the small parts you could see — his jet black dyed hair taking over the rest. he was tanned, probably because of the months in california he spent before the tour. his tanned and tattoo covered chest was wide opened, a jean vest hardly buttoned over him. he looked perfect, as per fucking usual.

"ladies!" he greeted simply with that grin of his. the two girls turned to face him, your eyes still stuck on yourself in the mirror as you started on your makeup. "nikki, you know we could have been naked." hannah spoke simply as her eyes glossed over you for a second before turning back to him, noticing his eyes also stuck on you. "well i knocked didn't i?"

"yeah, then you bolted in here." mila spoke teasingly as she messed around with her drumsticks. nikki glanced at the both of them for a second before turning back towards you, you not even giving him the light of the day. he knew what this was about, this was the very same reason he came to this dressing room.

it all started this morning when doc had ordered you to his office far too early — 9am. which for rockstar time is like 4am to a normal person. so, you went to his office tired and all, from nikki having you home at 4am rather a reasonable time. he had told you the basics of the rest of the tour and added in, as if it was no big deal, that nikki happened to head to your ex best friend's apartment after he dropped you off. because that's where he was that very morning when doc tried to contact him.

your ex best friend (the one nikki had dated that you roomed with) was a sore subject for you. nikki was the only one who truly knew what happeend. it was about a year after she kicked him out, she had crashed one of his mötley house parties that you were in attendance at. he thought it was hilarious at the time and didn't mind another hot girl in his house. but then when she noticed you, holy shit did she go psycho. you had realized later that she did this because she was jealous of you for nikki taking you under his wing, while she was the one who dumped the now successful rockstar.

there were screams of you being his slut who he would drop days later when he got bored of your "cunty behavior." then her saying something about fonzie and then pouring her drink all over your shirt. this kind of made nikki snap. he just went off, calling her a bitch and making her get out. it was the you finally realized nikki wasn't just some sleazy guy who you liked to hangout with. he was your best fucking friend.

so, the idea of him now fucking around with the girl who screamed in your face wasn't your ideal situation. "tommy has a new drum set he wanted to show you mila. and hannah..." nikki scratched the back of his neck as she finished his sentence. "i'm thirsty i'm gonna go get a drink."

"but you have a-" mila started only to get dragged by the arm with hannah's long fingernails out the door. nikki gave her a gracious smile as she shot him a wink and shut the door behind them. you acted innocent as you pampered the blush onto your face, noticing the man slowly making his way over towards you through the mirror. "y/n, babe-"

"i don't wanna hear it, nikki." you stated while you put away your blush and pulled out your eyeshadow palette. the long haired man sighed and pulled up the bench beside you climbing over it to face you. he was far too close to you, not that it bothered you. it's not like the two of you weren't used to being shoved against one another. but this was different. you knew he had spent the morning cuddled up with her. "pretty girl, i know you don't like carly. i know you can't stand her and neither can i-"

"-then why'd you spend the morning fucking off in her bed, sixx? if you hate her so much then stay away from her." you turned to face him, your faces inches apart. you could feel his breath on you as he sighed, placing his hand on your back. "i'm a sleaze, y/n. she wanted some and i was craving it so i went to her apartment. okay? i'm not proud of it," he dryly chuckled. "but i'm not proud of most of the things i do."

"you shouldn't be," you spoke as you brushed the eyeshadow over your eyelids and nikki bit down on his bottom lip. he couldn't process why this pained you so much, yeah he wished he could take it back but that was him. why did it hurt you? "babe, you're making it real difficult to apologize to right now."

you rolled your eyes before packing up some of your makeup and continuing on with your routine. he sat in silence for a moment while watching you, as if you were his favorite VHS tape that he would rewind a million times. even when he didn't understand you at times — he still was in admiration of you. everything about you amazed him. "stop looking at me."

"you make it so hard..." he paused his sentence in his twelve year old self before continuing, "when you look so fucking pretty." he expressed as he reached his hand toward, messing with the side of your tank top before making eye contact with you in the mirror. "nik?"

"hm?" he hummed as he leaned on his other hand, his eyes still locked on you in the mirror. "why? just, why? i know it wasn't just because you're 'sleazy'. you fucking hate carly and that's always enough to keep it in your pants."

nikki seemed shocked by your words but played it off with a dry laugh. the real reason was deep down and he knew it was there. he didn't want it to be there but it was, his friends reminded him of it every goddamn time you breathed. "cause..." he cleared his throat. "i'm a fucking maniac for you."

your head immediately turned towards him, your eyebrows furrowed as he seemed to have a smile of relief on his face. as if saying that cured cancer. "i've spent six years knowing you, craving you... and i thought for some fucked up reason if i fucked the girl that brought us together, i'd get over you miraculously. i realized how dumb it was the moment she was naked. because the only reason i ever fucked in that apartment was because i knew you were there. god," he paused to laugh and rub his face. "the first time i saw you, i thought carly was shit. you just... god, y/n. i fucking fell for you and i haven't stopped since then."

you couldn't believe your ears, you would have sworn your heart stopped at your best friend's words. your world stopped, that's for sure. probably when you shut him up and kissed him. it was a feeling you've desired for far too long. his chapped lips tasted so good against your own. and his little monologue tasted even fucking better. "even though you have a shit band, i want you to be my girl." nikki mumbled in between the kiss, making you slap his arm as he pulled away. the cocky grin was present on his face. "even though you have a shit band," you smirked. "i want to be your girl, nikki sixx."

[serenity-ren-bliss]

I've found my ambition again

VALENTINES INSTALLMENT #1

Prompt(s)/Premise: Kazuha + prompt 6: Reunited + Quote 6: "It's so nice to see your face"

Notes: WOOO! The first fic for this event is finally out!! Have I written a modern Au of this? Yes. Am I possibly tiring out this premise? Possibly. Do I care!? Hell nah.

TW: fem!reader, Not beta read

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

Kazuha stared off at the sea, lost in thought. "Kazuha!" The familiar, booming voice, sounded behind him, causing him to jump and almost fall of the bow of the Alcor.

He turned to face her. "Captain Beidou." She crossed her arms. "This is the third time today I had to scream in your ear to get your attention. What's up?"

Kazuha sighed. "My apologies, Beidou, I'm just... thinking." She smiled at him, concerned. "Well, whatever it is, you know you can talk about anything with me, right?" He nodded. "Thank you, Beidou"

She pat his back. "Well, Wei Yin needs you on deck for something." Kazuha nodded. "I'll be right there." She smiled and walked off. Kazuha took one last look at the horizon.

Later that night, the members of the Crux rejoiced. They broke out their bottles and Beidou made a toast. "Have some fun and get some rest tonight, my friends, cause tomorrow we'll be in Inazuma for the first time since the abolishment of the Sukoku decree!" Everyone cheered.

No one could deny that coming back to Inazuma after the decree was amazing. Basically any member of the crew would agree that the decree made Inazuma one of the worst nations to visit. Kazuha, tho, was extra excited. This was his hometown, and he was so happy to see everything in its full, reestablished, glory.

He drank a full bottle of sake that night, and he might've had more had Beidou not kept her eye on him. "You had enough, Kazuha, go to bed." He agreed without arguing.

The next morning, Kazuha was more giddy anyone on the Crux would ever see him, practically jumping in his seat as the Alcor pulled into the docs in Inazuma. He ran over to the rail.

"You looking for something?" Beidou asked it as a joke. She didn't expect Kazuha's face to light up at the sight of something, and he ran off the ship.

"Kazuhaa!!!!" An unfamiliar voice boomed through the air and the members of the Crux watched in awe as Kazuha, who had never once mentioned anyone from his life outside of his late best friend, ran up to a girl they had never met.

She was running towards him as well, and they met in the middle, with him picking her up and twirling her. "Kazuha!!!" He put her down so she could look up at him, cupping his face.

"It's so nice to see your face again, my love." He gave her a passionate kiss. She returned it, and when he pulled away, she gave him a small giggle. "I missed you so much. All that time in hiding was misery!"

She's been hiding away since the vision hunt decree was announced less than two weeks after her vision manifested. Kazuha used to come visit her often, however after joining the Crux fleet he never got the chance and was only able to slip letters for Thoma to give to her, which they are both endlessly thankful for, but seeing each other's face again is the best thing to happen to both of you.

"I have so much I need to show you tell you, do with you!" Kazuha giggled fondly in response. "That sounds amazing, my dear, but first, I need to introduce you to someone." She nods, practically bouncing in place as Kazuha beckoned Beidou over.

"You never told me you had a partner, Kazuha." She came up behind him. "I'm Beidou, captain of the Crux fleet." The girl shook her hand. "Y/n L/n. It's nice to meet you, Captain Beidou."

"You too. Glad to know Kazuha here hasn't been staring off into space these past few weeks for nothing." "Really!?" Kazuha blushed a little. "Aww, Kazu! You've been thinking of me!!" He chuckled. "Of course, my love. There's not a moment I'm not."

[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!