#I love them all so much I’m so happy I did this

[steddieas-shegoes]

i don’t know why i can’t take my eyes off of you

for @steddielovemonth day one using You and Me by Lifehouse

rated t | 1186 words | no cw | tags: future fic, second chances, mutual pining, idiots in love, songwriter Eddie, teacher Steve

🛒🛒🛒🛒🛒🛒🛒🛒

Steve’s walking down the frozen section of Melvald’s when time stops.

Not literally. The watch on his wrist is still ticking. The clock on the wall at the front of the store is still moving. People around him are still grabbing their groceries.

But Eddie Munson is standing in front of the ice cream section like he belongs there.

Eddie left Hawkins five years ago.

He kissed Steve on the lips, then the forehead, and left.

Steve’s thought about it, about him, every day since.

Eddie hasn’t noticed him yet. Maybe Steve should leave before he does. Last he’d heard, Eddie was working at a recording studio as a songwriter, halfway making his dreams come true.

He’s happy, or at least that’s what all the kids have said when he’s brought up. They don’t know about the kiss, at least Steve doesn’t think they do. He’s never told them.

It’s busy enough in the store that Steve’s pretty sure he can sneak away before Eddie sees him. He starts to back away, but immediately bumps into an old woman.

“I’m so sorry, are you okay?” He’s asking, and she’s brushing him off and saying she’s fine. He feels terrible.

“Steve?” Eddie’s voice is like music, always has been a melody made specifically for Steve.

“Eddie,” Steve says as the old woman walks away. “Hey.”

Steve forgets he’s in public as the world around him fades and all he sees, smells, wants, is Eddie.

“I didn’t know you were still in Hawkins,” Eddie says quietly, leaning forward on his toes. He’s got a new battle vest, though it looks well-worn. Steve wonders if he knows that his old vest is hanging in his closet, if he knows that Steve pulls it out every once in a while so he can put it on and feel a little less alone.

“Yeah. Never left.” It sounds worse than it is. Steve always said he’d leave when all the kids left, but once they did, he didn’t know where to go. It’s not like he could follow them around, couch-surfing across the country a month or two at a time, burdening them with his self-imposed loneliness.

“You look good,” Eddie says, changing the subject.

Leaving Hawkins was a touchy subject for Steve the last time he’d seen Eddie. It still is. Eddie must sense that.

“So do you,” Steve breathes out. He does. He looks healthy and happy, something Hawkins had completely drained from him before. “What are you doing back?”

“Just visiting Wayne. Usually he comes to see me, but he insisted he didn’t wanna deal with the ‘big city’ this time. And I’m the best nephew, so I said ‘sure, old man, I’ll go back to the town that hates my guts!’ And here I am trying to find my favorite ice cream at the store. They don’t have it,” Eddie shrugs. He rambles when he’s nervous, still. “He hasn’t mentioned seeing you around or anything, though.”

“Yeah, I guess we don’t cross paths much,” Steve laughs awkwardly. He can’t remember the last time he saw Wayne. Must’ve been around Christmas, when Steve was helping Joyce with her decorations while Hopper worked overtime and Wayne stopped by to drop off some lights. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s good. Stubborn as hell. Won’t retire even though he could,” Eddie shakes his head. “Think he’s scared of being bored.”

“Or lonely.”

The words escape Steve before he can hold them back.

Eddie’s face softens, but it’s not full of pity. Everyone always gives Steve this look, like they know he’s putting on a brave face. Not Eddie.

“Wayne’s always been content alone. He’s got friends, and he calls me when he has something new to argue about,” Eddie leans in closer. “I don’t really worry about Wayne. Other people, sure.”

“Like who?” Steve swallows.

“You settle down yet?” Eddie asks in response.

Steve’s so shocked by the question, he doesn’t answer.

“I figured the kids were just being nice by not telling me if you did, but you’re not wearing a ring and you’re grocery shopping alone, so…” Eddie rambles again. Steve feels his heart flutter in his chest.

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Are you dating someone?”

Steve shakes his head. “Haven’t really found anyone interesting.”

“Interesting? Since when does Steve Harrington want someone interesting?”

Since the most interesting person he knows kissed him and then left. Since everyone else is boring in comparison to you. Since he realized he was dumb to let you go.

“I guess what I thought I wanted is different now. Has been for a while,” Steve shrugs.

It’s strange how easily Steve becomes wrapped up in Eddie’s orbit, how quickly everything else didn’t matter the moment Eddie started talking to him. It’s just the two of them.

“Excuse me,” a man says to their left. Steve jumps back and apologizes for blocking where he needed to be. Eddie’s eyes never leave Steve.

When the man walks away, Steve clears his throat.

“How long are you in town?”

“How long will it take me to convince you to come back with me?”

Steve chokes on his next breath. “What? Come back with you? To…”

“New York or Chicago. I’m getting a promotion and they’ll let me pick where I wanna go. I’ve been leaning towards Chicago because more of the music I enjoy is making a mark there,” Eddie explains. “And there’s plenty of options for you there, too. Dustin said you just finished your teaching degree.”

“Dustin talks about me?”

“Only when unprovoked,” Eddie grins. “Have you been waiting for me?”

It’s blunt, but Eddie always has been. Steve can hide a lot of emotions from people; It’s been a survival tactic for most of his life.

He’s never been able to hide shit from Eddie.

“Not on purpose.”

Eddie looks at his basket of items. He was really only here for a few things, but he saw his favorite cookies were on sale and he couldn’t resist stocking up. He looks between the basket and Eddie’s eyes.

“You wanna come to mine for dinner?”

“Is dinner cookies?” Eddie laughs, poking at the package closest to the top.

“That’s dessert,” Steve laughs, too. He finds it easy. He never thought it could be this easy after the time that’s passed, the distance they had between them.

“First dessert.”

“What are we, hobbits?” Steve asks.

Eddie’s jaw drops open. “Steve, please. Not in public.”

“What?”

“I didn’t know you read it!” Eddie groans, but he’s smiling, so Steve’s not actually worried.

“I’ve read a lot of things! I’ve been waiting for you, remember?”

An announcement starts in the store— someone’s car is blocking a delivery truck entrance— and they both take a step away from each other. They were much closer than they should be in the grocery store.

This is still Hawkins, and people already don’t like Eddie. Looking cozier than two dudes normally would might be dangerous for both of them.

“So. Dinner?” Steve asks again. It’s easier to remember there are other people around with some distance between them.

“Sure. Dinner.”

Time starts again.

[bitchface24-7]

Salutations! I’m new to tumblr and I don’t know how this generally works, but the reason I even started to be here more was after Arcane’s ending

I downloaded the app moment I started reading your writing and other JAYVIK fanfic writers!! I admire your work and believe you have a lovely writing! I enjoy reading your works every time!

I’m embarrassed but I wanted to request a Jayvik x Reader with celebrating the reader’s birthday in some way, doesn’t matter how if it’s hurt to comfort or nsfw or anything (my birthday is today that’s why I ask, it’s bittersweet currently due to comments I’ve received n such) it’s all up to you! I’d be happy if you’d even read this! Thank you so much for your time and have a wonderful day!

YOUR SPECIAL DAY - JAYVIK X READER

synopsis: it's your birthday today! Your boys spoil you to the best of their abilities, breakfast in bed, lounging all day, they even baked you a cake the previous night while you slept! The cake is plain, but it's the tastiest cake you've ever had.

warnings: fluffier than a cloud, pre-established relationships, spoiling, physical affection, a birthday everyone deserves, Grammarly as my beta

genre: m/m/f or m/m/m

p.s. Awe I'm sorry your birthday today is bittersweet due to some people who are buttheads. Happy Birthday!! Ignore them! I hope this fluffy little fic brings you some joy on your special day, and to anyone else who needs a pick me up on their special days too! Xoxo love ya (thanks for the compliments also) ❤️

The sounds of pots and pans clanging together wake you up. You grumble, rubbing your face and running a hand over your head, moving your hair out of your face. You look over to the side and catch your alarm clock, it’s 12:00pm.

You’ve slept in, like, by a lot.

You damn near bolt out of bed until Jayce and Viktor casually stroll into the bedroom, your favourite breakfast on a tray for you to eat in bed.

“What’s all this?” You ask, your voice rough due to sleep; but there’s a light smile on your face. Viktor and Jayce look to one another before bursting out into laughter. You pout at them.

“It’s your birthday today. Did you honestly forget?”

You pause for a second. Your schedule has been so hectic lately, that you felt like you could barely breathe. Your eyes shift to the side as you innocently state, “No?” in a questioning tone, dragging out the vowel as your voice raises in pitch.

Jayce chuckles and places the tray over your lap, the small legs keeping it upright. He kisses your cheek and Viktor puts your favourite drink onto the tray. He kisses your forehead.

Damn. This is a pretty good way to wake up.

“Relax. Eat. Today is a day of lounging. Watching movies, going out to do some activities. Don't even attempt to think about work, that'll make me quite displeased.” Viktor states, his accent rolling across the words smoothly and elegantly. You quirk an eyebrow at him, “As if you're not constantly thinking about work, you hypocrite.”

“Touche.”

And with that, you eat your breakfast and your two boys keep you entertained.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Your birthday couldn't have gone any better. You did all your favourite activities, ate all your favourite food, and spent the day with your two favourite people.

It’s late into the evening by the time you all get home, a few movies are on your mind for you all to watch before heading to bed.

That is until you enter your home and see your boys rush to the kitchen. You just huff a laugh and take your shoes off, putting some slippers on you follow them to their mad dash of an escape.

What you see melts your heart.

It’s a cake. It's simple, with no wording or fancy icing techniques. It's clearly homemade and has a variety of different coloured candles.

It’s perfect.

Jayce and Viktor look sheepish, almost a little embarrassed. You shut that down real quick.

“You guys made me a cake? When?” You ask, your tone one of awe and appreciation. Jayce's shoulders slowly lower and Viktor lightly smiles. He hits Jayce's arm lightly and Jayce grunts in pain.

“I told you they'd like it!”

“Okay okay, you're right! I thought they'd like a nicer cake, that's all.”

“The sentiment means more than a pretty cake.”

You giggle as they bicker, and you wave your hands around a bit to catch their attention again, “Hello? First off, Viktor’s right. Second off, when did you make this? I would've seen you two baking in the kitchen.”

Viktor humphs in triumph and Jayce looks at the two of you fondly, “We made it last night while you slept.”

“You were so exhausted that you slept right through it! Believe me, we made quite a bit of noise. Jayce then had the brilliant idea of you getting breakfast in bed so you wouldn't see the cake in the fridge.”

“Then Viktor had the great idea to take you out, so that way we’d keep the cake a surprise. We'd do activities and eat at our favourite restaurant as well.”

You feel like crying. They're so sweet. So thoughtful. You don't know how you got so lucky.

You rub your nose discreetly as they light the candles, and start to sing happy birthday. Usually you find this part really awkward. You're just kind of there as people sing to you.

But right now, your heart is so full of love you don't even notice. When they're done, you can't help but beam a grin at them and lightly bend over to get closer to the cake. You close your eyes, make your wish, and blow out the candles.

When you open your eyes, all the candles are smoking. You got them all in one shot.

Viktor smiles and takes the candles out as Jayce prepares to cut the cake. You get the first slice, you wait a moment so your boys have their slice as well before taking a big cut with your fork and putting it in your mouth.

It's the most delicious cake you've ever had.

Honestly, what did you do to deserve them? You rant and rave over their cake as they blush and smile and your compliments, casually strolling to the couch where you three debate what movie to watch.

This day couldn't have gone any better.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! Hope you all have had a good day, and that this little fluffy fic makes every ones birthday just a bit sweeter.

[28harryssunflower]

Birthday boy

Harry sighed as he sank into the backseat of the car, staring out at the dark city streets passing by. His heart felt heavier than it should on his birthday. He’d woken up hopeful, checking his phone first thing, only to find a single message from you.

“Happy birthday, my love💞.”

That was it. No call. No voice message. And you hadn’t responded to any of his texts since.

The lads knew something was wrong. He hadn’t been himself all day - quieter, less engaged, going through the motions during their show but not fully there. So when they tried to convince him to join them at a bar for a few drinks to celebrate, he barely put up a fight before shaking his head.

“I just wanna head back to the hotel,” he muttered.

“Mate, come on,” Louis pressed. “It’s your birthday.”

“Yeah, Haz, a couple drinks, a bit of fun - it’ll cheer you up,” Niall added, his voice laced with concern.

Harry just sighed, shaking his head again. “I’m tired, lads. Just wanna sleep.”

The four of them exchanged looks before Liam nodded in understanding. “Alright. But if you need anything, just call, yeah?”

Harry forced a small smile as they each gave him a hug before climbing into their car. He watched them drive off before getting into his own.

By the time he reached the hotel, exhaustion weighed him down, but it wasn’t the physical kind. Normally, he’d stop to greet fans, sign autographs, maybe chat with the hotel staff - but tonight, he just kept his head down, pushing through the lobby without a word. He just wanted to crawl into bed and forget how lonely today felt.

But when he pushed open the door to his suite, he froze.

There, sitting on his bed, was you.

And you weren’t just there - you were wearing his favorite black lace lingerie, smirking at him like you knew exactly what you were doing to him.

His breath hitched, his brain struggling to catch up, but instead of noticing what you were wearing, all he saw was you. He let out a breathless, disbelieving laugh before rushing forward, engulfing you in his arms.

“Oh my God,” he whispered against your hair, holding you so tight it was like he feared you’d disappear. “I missed you so much.”

You giggled as he peppered kisses across your face, your hands tangling into his curls as he murmured “Missed you, missed you, missed you,” between each kiss. It wasn’t until his lips finally reached yours that his hands started to wander - and that’s when he finally realized what you were wearing.

His eyes darkened as he pulled back, scanning you from head to toe. “Oh,” he breathed, his voice dropping.

You smirked. “Surprise.”

That night, Harry got the best birthday gift he could’ve ever asked for.

Later, as you lay tangled in the sheets, your bodies still warm from your night together, you reached over to grab a small wrapped box from the nightstand.

Harry blinked at it in confusion. “You got me something?”

You rolled your eyes with a grin. “Of course I did.”

“I thought you were my present,” he teased, pulling you closer.

You laughed, nudging the box toward him. “Just open it.”

Harry unwrapped it carefully, lifting the lid to find a sleek, gorgeous ring nestled inside. His lips parted in surprise as he picked it up, sliding it onto his finger without hesitation. It fit perfectly.

He stared at it for a long moment before looking back at you, his green eyes shining. “I love it.”

“I hoped you would.”

He kissed you again, softer this time, filled with so much love that it made your heart ache. You spent the rest of the night curled up together, watching movies, eating snacks, and stealing lazy kisses until sleep finally took you both.

The next morning, Harry woke with a start.

The bed beside him was cold.

For a moment, panic gripped his chest - had it all been a dream? Had he imagined you being here because he missed you so much?

But then the bathroom door opened, and there you were, a towel wrapped around your body, your wet hair dripping onto your shoulders.

“Morning, birthday boy,” you murmured, walking over to press a soft kiss to his lips.

Harry exhaled in relief, his arms immediately wrapping around your waist to pull you onto the bed. “You’re really here,” he mumbled against your skin.

You chuckled, carding your fingers through his curls. “Of course I am.”

And when you handed him a tray of breakfast you’d ordered earlier, he felt like the luckiest man alive.

Later that morning, you met the boys in the hotel lobby.

You were immediately met with warm hugs and cheek kisses, especially from Niall, who grinned ear to ear when he saw you.

“About time you showed up,” he teased.

You laughed. “Had to make a dramatic entrance, you know?”

Harry just held you close, his fingers absentmindedly playing with the ring on his hand. The six of you spent the day wandering through the city until you stumbled upon a gorgeous beach.

As the others ran to the water, splashing and laughing, you and Harry sat in the sand, watching them.

You took a deep breath before turning to him. “I’m staying for the rest of the tour.”

Harry’s head snapped toward you. “Wait, what?”

You nodded, smiling softly. “I figured…it doesn’t matter where I am, as long as I’m with you.”

His eyes searched yours, almost as if he didn’t believe it. “But… you don’t like traveling.”

“I don’t,” you admitted. “But I love you more than i hate traveling.”

Harry’s face broke into the biggest, brightest smile before he tackled you into the sand, kissing you breathless.

Before either of you could say anything else, a sudden splash of cold water hit Harry from behind.

He gasped loudly, whipping his head around to find Niall running back to the water, cackling loudly.

“Oh, you little-“ Harry didn’t finish his sentence before springing to his feet and sprinting toward the water.

You laughed as he ran straight into the waves, fully clothed, tackling Niall as they splashed and dunked each other under. The playful fight lasted a few minutes before Harry, still grinning, waded out of the water, his clothes dripping wet.

Then his eyes landed on you.

Before you could react, he lunged forward, scooping you up into his arms.

“Harry, no!” You shrieked, squirming in his hold. “Put me down!”

He only laughed, carrying you effortlessly toward the water.

“Harry, I swear to fucking- don’t you dare!”

But he did.

With one last smirk, he launched both of you into the water, submerging you completely. You came up spluttering, pushing your wet hair out of your face.

“You absolute-“

Before you could finish your sentence, Harry cut you off with a kiss, his arms wrapping around you, pressing you close despite the cold water.

And in that moment, soaked to the bone, standing in the ocean with him, you had never felt happier.

[transformers-spike]

You put Breakdown with a gutbuster in my head, and now I need. For him to use it. On me. (Aka reader)

Bonus points if it's disgustingly cute and sweet and BD gets lots of love and praise. 🥹🥺

I overdid it. Again. Thank you @drunkeninlovesailor for beta-reading this fic and smacking some sense into me when self-doubt reared its ugly head. And I will go on to say @ss-shitstorm made me adore Breakdown so much more through Breaking Bread. I look up pictures of him and cry And yes, this is a sequel to Visitors - so back to the heatverse

Knock Out always goes first. Breakdown doesn’t mind it. At least he shouldn’t. He knows he’ll have his turn with you. Everyone does.

Second or seventh place, it doesn’t matter. He should be grateful to have a chance. Just like he should be grateful he didn’t lose more than one optic. Or the feeling in his left arm. Or his honor.

Again, it doesn’t matter. What’s done is done. It’s his turn. No superior waiting at your habsuite, no humiliating dismissal (obviously, they don’t mean for it to seem humiliating – they’re his superiors after all, and he has to obey them) – only you in the midst of your heat cycle.

The “breeding room”, as you jokingly call it, is actually Knock Out’s old habsuite. Repurposed, yeah, but he’s been here enough times to recognize it. Any Con worth their ball-bearings can upgrade after reaching third class. Knock Out used to be a first class. Then he was promoted to Chief Medical Officer and skipped a rank. Breakdown is stuck in second class. Better than first. Better than being a vehicon. He should be satisfied.

You’re curled up in your oversized berth on top of the heating pad. “Hey, squishy,” he whispers, taking his usual place next to you. “Don’t tell me Knock Out tired you out.” Your answer is a snort. You stretch, flesh poking out from under your frame coverings. A common sight by now, but his cooling fans didn’t get the memo. His frame vibrates with their familiar hum.

“Like what you see handsome?” you ask and scuttle up to him, wearing that precious spark-warming smile. He returns it full force.

“What can I say? Even a one-opticced oaf can recognize true beauty.” “Careful, partner. There’s only so much I can take before jumping on your spike.” He barks a laugh. “It may come sooner than you think.” “Bring it. I’m ready to deepthroat until your system reboots. But first -” you huff as you climb into his lap, waving away the servo he’s offering. Once comfortably seated in his lap, you cheekily rub your aft against his interface panel.

“Spill the tea, sis.”

“Hmph…” He drums his digits over his thigh. “We’ve had a record break in the mines! I haven’t seen them this happy in quartexes. There was a small party at homebase, squad’s been celebrating with engex.”

“Homemade?”

“Nah – I’ve checked. I won’t let them pull that stunt again.” He winces at the memory. B15F. Poor scrapper’s been euthanized well before his time. There wasn’t much left to save. The engex melted right through his fuel tanks. Breakdown didn’t pride himself on morality anymore – none of them did. But it was the right call – even if the uncertainty is tearing through his circuitry like a horde of scraplets. Could Knock Out have fixed B15F? Or maybe it would’ve just dragged out his suffering for a chance at nothing. His conjunx had studied at a bigshot academy – Breakdown’s knowledge’s based around rushed medical training. “You okay, big guy?” He snaps out of it. “Yeah! Everything’s good.” You can’t see his reassuring smile with his massive chassis in the way. But maybe if he keeps it up he’ll really mean it.

“You sure? You’ve been doing that a lot lately.” His smile falters. If a human has noticed it… who else has? Is this why Dreadwing’s been especially tolerant of his mistakes? Scrap, Breakdown almost misses his commanding officer’s reproaches. Could he get any more pitiful for frag’s sake? Proving himself after losing an optic to fleshies is bad enough. He’s not an invalid – he won’t be demoted to janitorial duties after working his aft off to make it this far.

“Workload’s been pretty intense. Been on my mind a lot.” He adds a chuckle to convince you – but he can’t see your expression with his chassis in the way.

“Bad enough for the vehicons to get blackout drunk again?”

“Found them recharging in mine carts.”

“Just like a college frat party, huh?” He has no idea what that means. Doesn’t stop him from laughing, though. “You should’ve seen them getting out! The sight brought lubricant to my optic.” “Scrambling like turtles stuck on their backs?” Oh – those, he definitely remembers. “Better. Remember that video you sent of the cat-looking thing surrounded by fermented fruits?” “The raccoon?” “Yeah! Struggling to sit up, then falling back in again!” You snort louder. “Ah. An absolute classic. You should totally film it next time, I would kill to see it.” “Oof. I’d love to, but I’m not sure I can do that while on shift. Ask Soundwave. Nothing escapes him.” Especially any contamination of the medbay – his processor shudders at the memory. At least it wasn’t Commander Starscream. Fooling around’s been kept to Knock Out’s habsuite ever since. And outside the ship, but that’s not the Intelligence Officer’s business.

“More than you know…” you say. Your tiny digits sneakily stroke the protomatter between his hip and thigh. The touch isn’t sensual. At least he doesn’t think it’s supposed to be. You’re not shy about squeezing, biting or running your glossa over it. This feels different. Hesitant.

“You know… you rarely visit first.” He sputters. “It’s not that I don’t want to or anything!” He shifts his frame and cranes his neck to take a good look at you. No success. “It’s that… I’m still a soldier, and they’re my superiors.” “I know that, silly. I’m talking about how you always let Knock Out have the first go at me before either of your shifts start. Why is that?” “I…” He shakes his helm. “Come on, second place doesn’t make any difference. As long as I get to pay you a visit, I’m happy!” His vox is strained. He meant to sound cheerful. What came out felt like rust being scraped off mesh.

You sink your digits into his thigh. Not enough to hurt. Never enough to hurt. A single fleshie can’t hurt a Cybertronian. But it’s clearly meant as a warning. Even he can tell that.

“Dude, just ask to go first. Knock Out is lovely and all, but you shouldn’t neglect yourself for his sake. I want you to come around and let loose before anyone else. Hell, you deserve it. Do you want me to ask Megatron personally? I can do that, no prob-” “No!” It comes out too desperate. “No,” he repeats. Softer. “The others don’t do well with favorites. Uh… except maybe Soundwave, but he doesn’t count.” Breakdown cringes. He wants no part in their power struggles, especially Commander Starscream’s. Else he’d end up at the barrel of his Master’s cannon.

“Okay… but my point still stands. Ask Knock Out to reschedule next time orr I’m bringing Megatron into this.” His vents huff, servos drawn into fists.

“Got it,” he relents. “I’ll talk to him, but if he refuses-” “He won’t refuse,” you say none-too-softly. “We’ve had a chat post-coitus.” He blinks. “You cannot be serious.” “Low and behold, I am. What? Did you expect me not to address it?” “He’s going to be furious at me.” “Like hell . If he so much as lifts a digit, I’ll be happy to inform Megatron and get him put in his place. He’s your superior in the medbay, not outside of it last I checked. And trust me, I’ve been checking.” He clenches his jaw and offlines his optic. “We’re not…” he starts gently, leveling his words carefully. “We’re not Newsparks. There’s a balance we’ve established on the Nemesis. All of us. Bringing Lord Megatron into this won’t offset the balance. It’ll destroy it. What we have here,” he gestures at the small habsuite. “Is thanks to his generosity. I don’t want to lose this because of some petty interface stuff. If he intervenes… I doubt we’ll still be able to visit.” There’s a long pause. He gives you the time to mull it over. An apology already on his glossa. “I understand. I know it’s not my place to call the shots. Part of me wishes that…” You swallow. “Part of me wishes that I could make things easier for you guys. You’ve all been through so much, and I know I’m only the ship’s resident pet or whatever, but I can throw my weight around a bit. You know, use my position for good?” “For good? Primus, you’re already doing us enough good!” “Hm, not exactly. You’re the ones helping me with my heat when he’s not around. Ugh – I would be suffering without you guys.” You squeeze his thigh. “Man-” you laugh nervously. “I hope I’m not getting too sappy. You’re, like, the only one I can have these conversations with.” His fans stutter. “Really? Not even Lord-” “Not even,” you repeat with finality. There’s a comfortable silence. Breakdown is smiling to himself.

“Hey, big guy.” “Yeah, squishy?” “Wanna kiss?” “Is that even a question?” he asks as he picks you up from his lap, servos cradling your fragile human frame. “Mmm, you know the answer.” You touch the sides of his face. His cooling fans flip to the second setting. Your hands are soft. Incredibly soft. His vents cease functioning entirely as you kiss him. Your glossa is warm and wet. His circuits crackle with charge. How could something so small push his systems into overdrive? When you pull away, he’s left cold and yearning. You don’t waste a klik undressing yourself, tossing your frame coverings over his servos and onto the berth. His lips find yours again. You devour his intake like your fuel tanks are empty.

Knock Out satiated you groons ago, but you’re already running hot with want. His heavy engine purrs. “Someone’s eager to get spiked,” he mutters against your intake. You ex-vent sharply and kiss again, grinning against his lips. He slides a digit between your legs, which you immediately part. There’s still feeling in this one, taking in the heat of your slick valve. There’s no trace of your last interface, only a craving for more. A hiss escapes you as he rubs the digit over your minuscule anterior node. Your hips buck into him, teeth grazing his lip.

“Please, stop teasing already. You know I can’t take it.” “I’m not a tease - that’s Knock Out’s job.” He swipes his glossa over your intake. “I’m the total opposite. So, what do you say? Is your little valve ready to take my spike?” Your optics widen, lubricating in excitement. “Oh finally!” You press your helm against his. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this! I’m so glad the recent energon haul got you enough to mass displace.” “Actually, I’ve been rationing my energon for a deca-cycle!” You step away from his helm and look at him in… strange horror. “You what?” There’s pity in your optics and disappointment furrowing your optical ridge.

Oh frag him! Why did he have to open his intake? “It’s nothing to worry about, I swear! I’ve done this plenty of times in the past – there was this time my unit was stranded in the Sea of Rust and there was no energon for almost a whole deca-cycle! Impressive, right? You don’t see any seekers surviving that!” Your horrified expression worsens. “What do you mean you’ve been starving yourself for weeks just to mass displace and fuck me?”

“Come on, it’s not really starving! We bots can deal with it better than you humans!” he stammers, engine revving in panic. “It’s not about that – it’s about sacrificing yourself for… for this!” you gesture at your body. “Fuck’s sake, you could have told me! I was waiting for you to ask! I could have gotten you the energon ages ago!” “Then why didn’t you?” The words smash through his intake before he can stop them, leaving him to clean up the mess.

His spark tightens when you flinch. It’s the first time he’s startled you. The first time he’s seen you scared. “I… I didn’t…” Your gaze falls. “Scrap, I’m so sorry! It’s not my place to say it, I didn’t mean-” “It’s fine,” you gently stop him. He immediately yields. “You don’t have to apologize. I just… didn’t expect it to be this bad.” A sigh leaves your intake. “I still want to help, though. If Knock Out can mass displace almost every time he visits, isn’t there plenty of energon to go around? Don’t you also work in the medbay on top of everything? You deserve at least the same amount of rations.” “It’s more complicated than that,” he mutters. “Knock Out outranks me.” “So? You’re just one bot, it won’t drain the reserves.” He presses a servo to his helm. “My frame type’s the issue. Us warrior class bots need far more energon than the average vehicon.” “Yes, and? You’re still just one more war frame. Who else is there? Megatron, Dreadwing – that makes three.” You bite your lip when you meet his optic. “Let me give you a hand. I’ll leave the whole thing with Knock Out alone if you let me help with this.” “I…” His vents huff. “Okay. I’ll let you take care of it. But, please tell him not to summon me. Else it’ll seem suspicious.” A smile tugs at the corner of your intake. “Got it. Easier done than said.” Hesitating, you reach out to touch his cheekplate. He leans in. You take a deep in-vent. “I’m sorry for blowing up like that. I’ve been so worried about everyone lately, I’ve overstepped so many boundaries. The energon thing just… drove me off the edge.” “It’s okay,” he says, unsure of his own words. “It happens to the best of us. If it’s any comfort,” he grimaces, “Knock Out’s been riding my tailpipe about my energon intake for the whole deca-cycle. That’s why I… tried to keep it a secret. Until now.” “Did it work on him?”

“Frag no!” He laughs. “For all his drawbacks, he’s the closest thing to a doctor on this ship. Noticing something’s wrong’s part of his primary code!” His laughter dies down. “Sorry. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I definitely ruined the mood.” “Not at all.” You press your cheek against his. “If it’s any comfort on my part, I’ve been called someone else’s name during interface.” His optic buzzes in its socket. “Who?” he demands without meaning to. “Who?” He repeats, far softer – now a polite question. “No one in High Command, sadly,” you say like you’ve read his mind, adding an apologetic shrug. “Another human before the alien shebang happened.” “Ah.” He averts his optic to hide his disappointment. “Come on, man. You know I would have immediately rung you up if Starscream had been moaning Megatron’s name during overload.” He cracks a smile. “I guess you’re right.” “Gossip girls forever?” You offer your fist. “Gossip girls forever,” he agrees, tapping it with his digit. You both mimic an explosion and draw your servos away in slow motion. “Still not sure what explosive punches have to do with gossip.” “Shhh - it’s a human bestie thing.” You kiss him again. Gently at first, then harsher with his wordless encouragement – your hunger makes his engine rev. “Want to start with valve to glossa action? How about we keep mass-displacement for the final course?” “Like I’ll ever refuse a free refueling.” You snicker. The noise is so precious it makes his joints weak. Lying on his abdomen with you in his servos, you writhe as he presses his glossa to your valve. “Fuck,” you hiss. “You okay?” he’s unable to hide the smugness in his tone. “I thought Knock Out had the first taste.” “ Fuck , Knock Out. I need your glossa right now. No one else’s.” His fans shudder. Once, handling someone so small was circuit-frying. He’d been with plenty of minicons, but never an organic. Those bots could take a good pounding. Fleshies? Not so much.

“Fuck.” You shiver as his glossa rubs up and down your pretty valve. Your hips buck into it. He grins between your legs and licks again. And again. And again. Until he feels your servos on his crest. “I need to ride your face,” you say – more declaration than request. He blinks, grin widening. “That desperate, huh?” “Shut up,” you growl – too adorable for your own good. How he wants to squeeze and smother you against his face. Your legs are soft on either side of his cheeks, servos gripping onto his crest with impressive strength for a creature so small and frail. He holds his glossa out for you to use as you please, two digits holding your hips in case you tumble off. “How…” You pant. “How are you this good?” He shrugs with his free arm. His vents blast harder. “I’m not even doing anything,” he mumbles with his glossa out. “Of course you are. You’re being your sweet himbo self,” your words falter as you keep riding. 

His cheekplates heat up. “Uh, a what now?”

There’s no answer, only your legs shaking as you furiously grind against his intake. You grip onto his crest, your entire frame shaking. “Breakdown!” you call out, vox breaking. A sudden burst of charge travels down his interface array. His pressurized spike clanks against his panel. “Frag,” he groans. His spike’s throbbing, Ugh, it hurts like he swung it against a wall.

At least you’re oblivious to his, uh, mishap – twitching against his glossa while trying to slow your ventilation. The plating of hips shifts and his panels release his array. His valve is soaking with transfluid, steam almost emanating off of it after overheating for half a groon. The cold air makes his spike twitch. “Is it… is it time?” you ask weakly, turning around to look at his lap. “Oh hey, so that’s where the noise came from.” He cringes, but still helps you get down. You scurry towards the middle of the berth and cheer out “Show me the goods, big boy!” Mass displacement is something he’d done in the past – back on Cybertron when there was plenty of energon to go by. Now it’s just a waste. Not for you, obviously! Primus, you’re worth every last drop. His working receptors buzz with sensation. System diagnostics appear at the corner of his vision. Mass conversion: successful

Warning:

Minimum energon required: 70%

Current level: 93% His joints are calibrated, there’s no ache in his processor, subspace feels fine – everything’s in working order. He can rest easy and focus on the important stuff. “Woah.” you beam at him. It’s uncanny to see you… so much bigger than he’s used to.

The hug is sudden but not unwelcome. Your helm comes up to his chassis, but only barely. It doesn’t take long for you to pull him on top (the close view is to offline for), and drag him into a kiss. His spark pulsates like never before.

“Please, spike me,” you beg. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.” He looks down at his spike. Then back at you. There are many things he’s learned as a nurse, one of which being: pick the smallest pair of forceps when operating on minicons. Sadly, he cannot replace his spike with a smaller one. But he can prepare you for the operation. “Hey, how about I get you started with something else before you get the hammer?” He lifts up the servo with functioning receptors and flexes his digits. “Promise you’ll rail me afterwards.” “Promise.” He grins.

He’s a denter first and all, but he’s always been careful with his servos back when brushing debris off his comrades after a busted demolition job. It felt like second nature to him. They were at the bottom of the scrapheap. Caring for others, even in small ways, made their plight bearable. His own at least. He pushes in, chuckling as you furrow your optical ridge, intake slightly agape. “Does it sting?” “No.” Another digit is carefully added. You whimper and grit your dentae. One digit and a half then. “What about now? How do you rate your pain on a scale of 1 to 10?” “Oh shut up…” Your tiny valve is absolutely soaked, slick with human lubricant, struggling to accommodate him. If you’ve taken the entire High Command, you can take him. Sure, he’s been told his spike is a “weapon forged by Solus herself”, but Megatron’s definitely bigger. And you’ve fragged him. Everyone knows that. Your valve’s more durable than it seems.

You clench around his digits, expression so lovely it’s clear you’re about to overload. He cautiously curls a digit inside of you. The gentle pressure’s an easy way to make your valve calipers clam down on him. Another whimper escapes you as he rubs at the spot. Your pedes push against his thighs, a desperate plea to stop. But he knows better. “Cute,” he thinks as your sweet noises intensify. He never expected fleshies to be so adorable – but then again, you’re not like the other squishies. Lord Megatron picked the best one. “Please,” you whisper. “This is torture.” “Aw, I thought you wanted to overload.” “You and I…” You swallow. “We both know damn well you’re teasing me. I need your spike, not… not this .”

He laughs. “I keep my promises, don’t worry about it.” He pulls you flush against him, legs over his hips. Bracing himself on one servo, he’s got an arm cautiously wrapped around your waist. “Comfortable? How do you rate your position on a scale from 1 to-” “Breakdown, I swear to fu-” “Got it. It’s hammer time.” He grins. You grip onto his digits and offline your optics. He pushes in. You suck in a sharp in-vent. He pauses.

“Go on,” you say after a moment. “I can take it. I guess I didn’t expect it to be so big.” “Big?” He blinks at you. “You’re the one taking Lord Megatron. He’s larger than me.” “Not his spike.” You chuckle. He looks up at the ceiling in wonder. “Wow.” “Wow indeed. Now please put that spike to good use.” Like a good soldier and seasoned interface partner, he follows your orders. Ridge by ridge, you take him, grip tightening and dentae gritting until he reaches your limit. He shudders. You’re clenching around him like a cold press, crushing his spike harder than any minicon valve. You seem on the verge of shutting down. “You okay?” “...yeah.” “Do you want me to stop?” “Don’t you dare.” “Got it.” His smile widens.

The pace is incredibly slow. Yeah, Knock Out likes having his circuits rearranged – and yeah, most vehicons he’s been with want to get railed into oblivion. But taking his time with you feels just as good. Charge is building along his array. He wants to tell you so many things – how you’re so beautiful holding onto him like he’s the center of your universe, whimpering and repeating his name listlessly – or how he wishes this could last forever, that he can forget the war when your arms are wrapped around his frame, no matter how small.

Your optics come back online and meet his. Wordlessly, you beckon him closer. He leans down, now bracing himself on his arm. Your servos find his face. “Have I ever told you how handsome you are?” you ask, nuzzling his cheekplate. It’s not the first time you’ve done so. But at this moment, either from mass displacement or the sight of you sprawled out before him (or both), his spark throbs in his chassis. His array is pulsating with charge. He presses his forehelm against yours. “Yeah. You always do.” “Good. Because I love you.” Your lips meet his. The charge explodes. Your valve clamps down on his spike. Sparks shoot through his sensors – his engine roars. The world stands still.

Then, he breaks the silence. “By…” his vox crackles with static. He recalibrates his vocalizer. “By Alchemist Prime…” there’s still a buzz to his words. “What was that?” “You tell me,” you answer shakily. Neither of you move for a while. Diagnostics report: Energon level: 87% He pulls out of you, earning a wince. You loosen your grip on his neck and fall back. His optics widen at the load of transfluid trickling out, valve still twitching. He feels equal parts pride and wonder something so small took his spike. Should he tell you about it? You appreciate greatly when he says what’s on his processor. Not everyone does. “Good job,” he tells you, petting your helm like the human he saw congratulating its furry companion. Your expression spells confusion. Then, you grin wider than he’s ever seen and pet him back. His engine rumbles in content. “I would die for you,” you declare without a hint of sarcasm in your vox. He laughs nervously. “Please don’t, Lord Megatron would kill me.” “Then I’d kill him first.” “But you’d already be dead.” “I’d come back as a ghost.” He laughs again, twice as nervous. “Anyway, was it… good?” “You blew my back out.” “I – what ?” “You rearranged my guts.” “Wait, are you about to offline-” “Human euphemisms.” “Oh.” “It means it was the best frag of my life.” “I… oh wow.” He allows you to pull him back on top. “You’re the best I could have asked for.” His cooling fans are blasting. “Um…” “You’re my favorite blueberry popsicle.” “Uh, thanks?” “I love it when you’re blue in the face.” More energon rushes to his cheeks.

“Oh, um – you too!” Frag - that didn’t sound smooth. He hasn’t been this bad since he was newly forged. “Raspberry and blueberry,” you press your helm against his. “My favorite mix.” You kiss him again, less desperately – finally satiated for the next cycle. Or at least a few groons. “Can you cuddle in this form?” Or…do you have to turn back?” He hits his chassis with pride. “Another groon won’t hurt me – I’ll do just fine..” “Aw hell yeah!” He lies down and you quickly take your place at his side, burying your face in the crook between his neck and his chassis. You let out a hum when his digits stroke your back. He can sense the minuscule hairs on your plating. They tickle.

A klik passes by, but you can’t seem to sit still. You push his arm away, readjust yourself, then pull it back in, only to start again a nanoklik later. “Everything ok?” You make a noise of frustration – so adorable it makes his spark ache.

“Give me a sec,” you mutter.

He watches as you get up to fetch your blanket and pillows. “Uh, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I barely managed to clean up before coming over.” “Don’t matter.” You cover his side in them. “I just want to cuddle you.” He bites his glossa. You’re too sweet for your own good. Once comfortable, his servo comes back to stroke your skin. You shiver. “Are you cold? Do you want me to get the heating pad?” “No. You’re warm enough. It just… feels nice to be with you this way. I meant what I said. I do love you. Maybe not on Knock Out’s level – he’s known you before my great grandparents were even born.” He affectionately taps your helm. “I mean, yeah – but what does that have to do with us? Do you humans have a monogamous contract or something?” Your expression says it all. “Oh,” he drawls. “Uh – it doesn’t mean that you can’t be with us, it’s that-” “I’m Megatron’s first and foremost,” you say, looking away from him and straight at the wall. “I… yes. But I mean that-” “I’m together with everyone. I know that.” You turn your attention back to him. “And no, it doesn’t bother me. I simply want to give you the praise you deserve. And the energon. Man, you need that so badly.” Resting your helm atop his chassis, you flash him a warm smile. “I love you. Don’t you ever forget that.”

[purerae]

ahhhhh! I’m so glad that you are back. I love your writing and please don’t feel any pressure and take it easy🥹 i had a random thought about what if Kieran found out that reader was cheating? I think it would be so interesting!

tysm omg ^_^ im so happy to be back ily all so so much!!

warnings ;; toxic behaviour on both ends, manipulation, kidnapping, infidelity, delusional behaviour (who would’ve guessed!)

yandere!playboy - Kieran.

he’d go insane. I think this is an instance where he’d straight up kidnap you. He finally got you to be his and you just go and fucking cheat on him? Yeah no, that’s not how it works. Obviously the person who you slept with is a goner. No semblance of them would be anywhere and their life, emotionally and physically would be obliterated in Kieran’s hands.

Kieran is quite toxic, so I don’t think he’d ever tell you that he knows you cheated on him. He’ll just kidnap you randomly one day (maybe a day or even a week after he found out) and lock you in a room— making you wonder what happened? ‘Why did he suddenly imprison you?? Everything was going so well, he was literally joking with you a few hours ago!’

For the first couple of days, he wouldn’t even look at you. He’d become a shell of a man, the cheekiness and playfulness gone, dead eyes stare at you as he gives you a plate of food. Swiftly leaving and locking the door shut, even after you beg and scream, pleading to tell you why he’s doing all this; that you love him! Why is he hurting you?!— the rooms walls answers your questions.

He’d see it as a form of punishment to you and to him, to see you so broken would hurt him but he’d also want to make you feel betrayed like how he felt when you cheated on him.

But after like a week or so, he’d switch up— displaying his charismatic flirty personality once again, staying for hours and hours in the room as he yaps about the most random things; cuddling you tightly as you struggle from his embrace. He’d whisper sweet nothings in your ear, acting like you guys are a normal happy couple; ignoring your pleas, your infidelity and the fact that he locked you up in his fucking room.

He’d genuinely just start believing that everything’s fine, everything’s okay— you still love him, you still need him. The person who you got with just manipulated your poor brain :( It’s okay, princess! He’s here to protect you <3

[mostly-marvel-musings]

First time Noah goes to reader's bed in the middle of the night because he had a nightmare after her and Tony got together, so Tony's there to help comfort him too. Tony admiring how well she can calm down Noah and comfort him, while also doing his best to comfort him and even asking if he wants to sleep there in their room that night. Cuddle pile ensues.

Easing Noah’s nightmares - Christmas With You

A/N: I think I like this little family too much. My fluff loving heart is full 🥹🤍 Leave a heart, comment or reblog if you’ve enjoyed reading :)

Pairing: Tony Stark x Single Mom! Reader

Warning: DAD MATERIAL TONY? PERFECT BOYFRIEND TONY?

Christmas With You Masterlist

.

“Tony!”

“Wha—? Love you.” He mumbled, half asleep as he draped his arm around your middle, snuggling closer to you, deeming the conversation to be over.

“Stop snoring.” You rolled your eyes, smiling to yourself as his face pressed up against your hair. You two had gone to bed hours before, though Tony’s snores kept waking you up.

“I don’t snore. You snore.” He murmured, throwing his leg over both of yours, locking you in before pressing his entire front against your back, making you chuckle at his childish behaviour.

“I will record you one of these days for proof, Mr. Stark.” Your voice was quiet yet playful as you got comfortable, thrumming your fingers against his arm.

“For your information, I only lightly snore when I’m tired, and that’s thanks to you, you really wore me out.” His voice caused you to blush, hitting him lightly as he chuckled before kissing the back your ear softly.

As you settled into his comfortable embrace, you couldn’t help but think how life had turned out this past year; meeting Tony Stark - someone who’d changed your life for the better, made you believe in love, take chances and build a life of your dreams. Happiness was just one of the few emotions you felt when you were together, which was constant now that you were living with him.

You were grateful that Noah had been eased into this relationship so flawlessly too. He was just as comfortable with Tony now as he was with you, even demanded bedtime stories from him on several occasions. It was a whole other conversation watching Tony with your son, he was just so good with him. Patient and thoughtful, he gave you all sorts of feels every time they interacted, ones that ended up with you dreaming about expanding your family.

It wasn’t until a few hours later that you had stirred awake to find Noah tugging at your blanket as he stood near you, clutching Snuggles.

“I had a bad dream, Mama.” He whispered, on the verge of tears as you sat up, making Tony’s arm slide down, waking the man in the process too.

“It’s okay, baby. It was not real. Come here.” You opened your arms for him, but he hesitated, looking down at his pyjamas that were ruined.

“I—I wet the bed.”

His voice was so soft, almost reluctant as he watching Tony rub sleep from his eyes, asking if he was alright.

“It’s alright, Noah. We’ll get you cleaned, come on.” You picked him up and rubbed his back, knowing it calmed him down as you slowly walked out of your bedroom and into his.

Tony followed wordlessly, changing Noah’s bedsheets while you cleaned him and got him into a fresh pair of pjs. It wasn’t too frequent for Noah to have nightmares but when he did, they usually got bad, and he ended up wetting himself. Your heart swelled when Tony did his routine ‘checks’ to make sure there was no monster under Noah’s bed, reassuring him that him and Dum-E would get rid of them for him if they ever came back.

“Do you want to sleep in our bed, kid?” He offered, caressing his head which was laid on your chest as you hugged him close. You met Tony’s eyes as if to make sure you heard him right.

Noah nodded silently, holding his arms out for Tony to pick him up, a gesture that touched your heart. He usually clung to you but the fact that he trusted Tony enough to let him comfort him after a bad dream really took you by surprise. You watched Tony hold your son, his arms strong and solacing as Noah laid his head against his shoulder.

Once the three of you settled in your shared bed, you brought the blankets up to Noah’s chest to make sure he warm and secure. Tony lay on his side watching you comfort your son with a fond smile on his face. He always knew what a wonderful mother you were, he was in awe of you already, but moments like these made him want more. Noah was already a son to him, he’d wormed his way into his heart and he couldn’t wait to expand his family with you.

“Eyes closed, my little jelly bean. Sweet dreams. I love you.” You whispered, pressing a soft kiss against his forehead.

“I love you too, Mama.” He closed his eyes, keeping one arm around Snuggles while holding yours tight with the other.

“Good night, Noah.” Tony whispered, caressing the hair that fell on Noah’s forehead gently.

“Night, Dada.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Noah’s voice was as quiet as the night but you both heard him. Not stopping the tears that gathered in your eyes, you looked up at Tony who was blinking back his own tears. Reaching out, you interlaced your fingers with Tony’s, squeezing them before he kissed the back of your hand and then Noah’s forehead.

The moment would forever be etched in memory as you two watched your son drift off to sleep, your hearts full of love and minds with the beautiful possibilities of what was to follow.

[ridethecyanide]

It amazes me every time that you were always there for Bobby! You saw every performance of him at the time. You had stuff about him from the 90s, that's so amazing! I'm a bit jealous, but good for you good <3 I assume you must be a big fan of him since day one? 🤔 How was it like back in your days to be a fan? If you don't mind sharing ♡

@toddsmind-neilssoul I don’t mind sharing!

So, my parents rented DPS when I was 10, that was 1993 and all I can remember was the cute boy with the sad eyes that caught my attention. My grandmother took me to see Much Ado About Nothing that same year after a lot begging and even though I didn’t understand one word of it at the time, I got to see my cute boy with the sad eyes. He was definitely my first celebrity crush and I’ve been following his career ever since and didn’t miss a movie or TV event. This was before the internet really exploded so I had to rely on TV Guides, newspapers/magazines to keep up with any of his appearances and record on my VHS tape recorder 😆 Fast forward to 2001, I told my parents I didn’t want to go to my high school senior prom and asked them to use the money that would have been spent on a dress towards a graduation gift of seeing Robert in The Invention of Love. So, my Mom and I flew out Memorial Day weekend 2001 and saw him perform and I just couldn’t believe I was seeing him live, he was wonderful. We waited by the stage door after the show and I got to meet him. There was nobody else hanging around so I had him all to myself for a moment. I didn’t say very much because I was a bit nervous but he couldn’t have been nicer. Exactly one week later, he won the Tony! That was so exciting!

When he was on House, I thought I hit the mother-load as a fan because I actually got to watch him on a weekly basis for 8 years so when it ended in 2012, I got a bit sad because I knew he was going to head back into his hibernating book-nook and maybe show up on a random TV show every once in a while and continue to perform on stage. I wanted to see every play he did but life gets in the way.

I figured enough time had passed (15 years!) and I had the time so I flew out to NYC in 2016 to meet up with a friend and see him in Prodigal Son. Again, he was wonderful and again, I got to say Hello to him afterward but this time I actually spoke to him and told him about skipping my senior prom in 2001 to see him perform, how it was a decision I will never regret and showed him the photo; he smiled so sweetly at me as if he was saying, why would you give up a teenage right of passage to see me, I’m not worth it…I asked if we can take a photo as a sort of Then and Now kinda thing and we did! No surprise, he was so nice.

I adore Robert and wish nothing but good things for him. Since he’s not always out there like a lot actors, I feel so genuinely happy to see him when he does decide to come out of hibernation. (Thank you Cynthia Nixon for coaxing him out to act in The Gilded Age) I’m flying out to Chicago in March to see him in his latest play. Perhaps I can say Hello to him again? Stay tuned!

[dippindaz]

Aaah you did my request :D it was so good aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa so in character and wonderful and cute <333 i am mentally printing it out and hanging it on my fridge. Also Billy not knowing how to deal with people looking after him?? Please, my heart 😭😭😭

If you're still looking for requests, I'd love to see Billy, Eddie, and Steve (and maybe Robin if that's not too many 👉👈) teaching a reader one of their hobbies (d&d, basketball, etc.) Tbh i don't think Robin HAS any canonical hobbies so I'm excited to see what you hc she does in her free time

Oh my gosh the praise is too much!!! 🥹 Thank you so much and I’m so happy you liked it!! ^_^ I did all four characters :)

I love this idea as well!!!! I’m sorry this took so long to get out, I got stumped on some theseee

Eddie Munson — Teaching You D&D

• Eddie is beyond excited when you show interest in Dungeons & Dragons. He acts nonchalant at first, but the second you actually agree to play, he’s pulling out his DM’s guide and grinning like a madman.

• He insists on making your character with you, talking you through all the races and classes in the most dramatic fashion. “Do you want to be a noble warrior, sworn to protect the innocent? Or a cunning rogue who trusts no one but themselves?”

• When you get overwhelmed by all the stats and dice, he reassures you with a pat on the head. “Don’t worry, my little apprentice, you’ll get the hang of it soon.” (In the voice you’d imagine an old mentor having.)

• During your first session, he gives you just enough guidance to keep you engaged but lets you struggle a little for fun. “Roll for deception. No, you can’t just lie your way out without rolling—welcome to the cruel reality of dice, sweetheart.”

• If you roll a natural 20, he makes a HUGE deal out of it, narrating the most ridiculous and over-the-top outcome possible. “You don’t just convince the guard—you have them questioning their entire career choice.”

• If you roll a natural 1, expect him to cackle and make your failure as hilariously painful as possible. “Oh no, you trip on your own shoelace and insult the king’s mother. Good luck with that.”

• He definitely starts calling you his favorite party member, even if you’re terrible at the game.

Billy Hargrove — Teaching You Basketball

• At first, Billy thinks it’s hilarious that you even want to learn basketball. He teases you constantly. “Think you can keep up with me, sweetheart?”

• He’s surprisingly patient when teaching you the basics, though. He stands behind you, guiding your arms when you shoot, and smirks when you get flustered. “You’ll never get it if you’re too tense. Relax.”

• If you miss a shot, he doesn’t let you live it down. If you make one? He acts like it was pure luck. “Alright, rookie, don’t get cocky now.”

• The first time you manage to get past him and score during a one-on-one game, he pauses. Stares. Then smirks. “Okay, okay, I see you.”

• Absolutely shows off while playing against you—spinning the ball on his finger, dribbling between his legs, pulling no-look shots—just to be extra.

• If he ever catches you getting frustrated, he actually encourages you. “You think I got this good overnight? Hell no. Keep going.”

• When you’re sweaty and out of breath, he rests his hands on his hips and smirks. “Guess I gotta go easy on you next time, huh?”

• If you really impress him, he’ll jokingly challenge you to a real game. “Loser buys dinner. Better start saving up, babe.”

Robin Buckley — Teaching You French

• Robin insists that French is the coolest language and that knowing it makes you at least 20% more attractive. “Trust me, nothing sounds hotter than a perfectly pronounced ‘je ne sais quoi.’”

• The first thing she teaches you? Not useful phrases like greetings or directions. No, she starts with the good stuff—insults and sassy comebacks. “Okay, repeat after me: ‘Va te faire voir.’ It means ‘get lost,’ but it sounds way classier in French.”

• She definitely teaches you how to swear in French and then makes you promise not to use it in front of teachers or authority figures. (“Actually, never mind, totally use it in front of Keith at work.”)

• Whenever you butcher a word or mispronounce something, she laughs but immediately reassures you. “Hey, you’re doing better than me when I first started. I sounded like a drunk tourist for the first month.”

• She randomly quizzes you at the worst times—like mid-conversation or while you’re eating. “Quick! How do you say ‘the cat is on the table’?” If you get it right, she cheers dramatically.

• If you really struggle with pronunciation, she gets unreasonably close and exaggerates how to shape your lips, totally unaware of how flustered it makes you.

• She casually drops French phrases into everyday conversations and refuses to translate them. “If you were paying attention, you’d know what I just said, mon cher.”

• Eventually, she teaches you something actually romantic, like how to say “Tu es magnifique” (you are magnificent), but she says it so casually that you’re not sure if she’s flirting or just being Robin.

• If you start getting too good, she pouts. “Damn, you might actually be better than me soon. I take it back, I’m never teaching you again.” (She’s totally lying.)

Steve Harrington — Teaching You Baseball

• When you agree to let him teach you baseball, he acts like it’s some super serious training session. “Alright, rookie, let’s see what we’re working with.”

• If you miss your first swing, he shakes his head dramatically. “Yikes. We got a lot of work to do.”

• He absolutely uses it as an excuse to stand behind you, adjusting your grip on the bat. “Loosen up a little. Here, let me—” and suddenly, his arms are around yours, and yeah, he knows what he’s doing.

• He definitely teases you if you get flustered. “Oh? Distracted? Can’t imagine why.” (The smirk he gives you is criminal.)

• When you finally hit the ball, he cheers obnoxiously. “Look at that! My little slugger’s getting good!” He even does a little celebratory fist pump.

• If you hit a really bad shot, he laughs but tries to make you feel better. “Okay, okay, that one sucked, but hey—at least you didn’t hit yourself in the face.”

• Eventually, it turns into competition. He steps up to the plate and crushes a ball just to show off. Then he looks at you with the smuggest grin. “Think you can top that, babe?”

• When you do manage to hit a better shot, he stares for a second before pretending to be unimpressed. “Eh. Not bad. Lucky swing.”

• If you lose the competition, Steve is supportive and careful not to make you feel bad. He reassures you that you just need more practice and you’re doing better than he was when he started. If you win… well let’s say Steve is conflicted between his ego and celebrating you. At first he might pout and be in disbelief but then he’d also be saying: “My baby’s a natural! You did so good!”

[xa3r1s]

✧⭑----⋆✩⋆-------⋆ he's just ℙ𝔼ℝ𝔽𝔼ℂ𝕋𝕃𝕐 𝕀𝕄ℙ𝔼ℝ𝔽𝔼ℂ𝕋 ♡ - boyfriend headcannons - [l. donghyuck]

⠀⠀ ☆ (⠀ 꽃⠀ ) ...

﹢﹒ ✦⊹﹒..𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗.: “ LEE DONGHYUCK ; ✧ ”

✦⊹﹒synopsis:ㅤdonghyuck bf hcs ✦⊹﹒warnings: ㅤsuggestive!!, bratty ass haechan, needy-dom!haechan, fluff, mentions of voyeurism, small cursing, lmk if i missed anything! ✦⊹﹒word count: ㅤ1,2k

a/n.: hi yall i know he's probably not like this, i know it really well, its all for entertainment and it's my own thoughts about him! also I'm really really grateful for the feedbacks i get, it means a lot to me and thank you all! ♡

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⟢» it’s a well-established fact that he loves skinship—a decent amount, at least. having his arms around you or just his palm resting in one place on your body. anything would make him happy and satisfied, the main focus is to feel you close and have you next to him. you bring him comfort and safeness and him clinging onto that like a lifeline

⟢» when in those moods, he’d simply take them. you can be busy, he doesn’t even care. plops down next to you, leaning his head to rest gently on your lap without a response given. or just demand them, like, what do you mean you can’t because you’re busy? you never should be busy when it’s about him

⟢» if you’d refuse him he’s making the biggest fuss about it. almost whining and pouting to the point you can’t help but laugh at him

“i see. i get it, so you don’t even love me anymore? that’s it?” and all you did was just peel off his arm he sneaked around your waist in secret.

⟢» he’d be a really big simp, completely worshiping you at times. dress up pretty or just wake up from the bed with your hair all frizzy, he looks at you the same way—utterly whipped

“wow, tragic. you look so rough right now.” and yet, he’s staring at you like you put the stars in the sky.

⟢» i don’t actually know if he’s good at cooking or not, but let’s just say he isn’t. he doesn’t destroy the kitchen, but you definitely have some… concerns. the look, the smell, the everything of his food makes you question his choices. still, he tries—because making sure you’re fed is part of taking care of you (even if it’s a little questionable)

⟢» he has a playful tone in everything he does and that carries itself into your relationships. small, cheeky remarks and light poking to your sides to get your attention. you’d end up mad at him but he still likes that too, maybe even too much since you’re giving him attention nonetheless

“c’mon, you know you’re not mad at me.” he taunts, his index finger poking into your slightly puffed up cheek. his honey brown irises scanning your features and expressions, fueling his ego to just further tease you and you could do anything by now, he doesn’t back down

⟢» attention whore, all the way. he would be a big yapper for with you, the information just flowing out of him like a river, not taking into consideration if you’re interested at all. he just says it either way. you could do you chores, cook or do the laundry or taking a shower while he just calmly stands by your side and rants about his current dilemma as if it were his purpose of living

⟢» i’m pretty sure he’d be fucking horrifying if he’d get angry. sure he’s got a lighter mood every time but when it comes down to that, he just does an 180°, his eyebrows sitting in a straight, stern line. his earlier cute smile melted away from his lips and every bit of emotion just got replaced by anger. he might raise his voice, might not, it depends. but when he does it, he just becomes so loud, cussing out everyone and everything out that just comes to the tip of his tongue

⟢» and because of that he’d be able to hurt people really badly, not thinking first when speaking. if he’s in fault, he would instantly let go of his ego and just straight up apologize to you. wouldn’t want you to take pity on him, he just regrets his thoughtless actions. he would try to please you with little gifts and acts, trying anything to make you crack a laugh or even the faintest smile warms his heart and knows he’s on a good path to make you happy again

when he caught a glimpse of your plump lips even just twitching upwards, a big stone got lifted from his chest. to intensify, he started pressing gentle and feather light kisses along your jaw, nipping at your skin in places before the pecks came to a stop at the corner of your mouth. leaning back with a relieved grin, he just holds you tight in his arms for a while

⟢» when you’re sick he doesn’t hesitate to look after you even if the first thing he does when he sees you, is to scold you for not listening to him about keeping yourself warm and stuff. in the end he still takes care of you. tries to lighten your mood with small gestures, doing his best to make you forget about your sickness

⟢» a big gentleman, treating you as a princess and spoiling you rotten like it was his fated job. when you call him out on it occasionally, he just shushes you quickly, making you swallow the rest of your questions you were preparing to ask him

“what’s your deal? i’m over here, being the perfect boyfriend for you and you do nothing to appreciate it- even telling me to stop?” a cackle slips from you, shaking your head at his stubborn out burst. it wasn’t supposed to sound as a complaint but at times you wondered if with his joking ass personality, how is he even able to be this way. his purpose of acting offended are quickly dissipating into a lazy grin, keeping you pampered the same way he did before

⟢» still, being a gentleman doesn’t exclude being cheeky. not for him, especially. he has just such a dirty mouth on him it makes you wonder how he can ‘switch between these personalities’ so quick. he’s gently caressing and pampering you in one second and the next he leans in closer his warm breath fanning on your heated up skin with his plump lips muttering filth over and over. like he just can’t stop enjoying it and seeing your reactions. expression changing to flustered in the meantime of seconds

⟢» the fact that he just always teases you about everything at every chance he gets, requires a younger s/o. taking pleasure in seeing your flushed red face, your gaze unable to meet his, your teeth biting onto your bottom lip; he enjoys it all. but that’s not the only reason, taking care of you makes him feel important and reliable too. you don’t even need to really depend on him, he gladly takes care of you even maybe against your will too

⟢» since he’s so goddamn clingy, absolutely loves pda. now hear me out, showing you as his possession, knowing he has what everyone else can’t just makes him giddy inside. and with that being said, he’s into voyeurism, definitely wants to try it at least once to see your reactions, but it’s just his secret kink. that’s all i’m gonna say

⟢» i guess we’re all aware of the fact that he’s not tall at all, poor boy. but i’m pretty sure even if you’d have at least a few centimeters difference, he’d be so cocky about it he wouldn’t stop mentioning it. and let’s not talk about if you’re even more shorter than him, just absolutely can’t stop teasing you around about your height. he’s the type to put things on a higher shelf for you so you’d have to ask for his help

⟢» be prepared some real weird pet names. this boy would just simply go around calling you anything he could muster up at the moment with the straightest face. acts innocent and offended when you’re surprised at the names he chose, pouting and accusing you of not liking them

▚▚ @xa3r1s ▚▚ my works belongs to me! do not translate them, copy them or publish them on another site.

[bestworstcase]

I hope I’m not weird or offensive for thinking this that Oz and the GoL relationship has abuse undertones. I go as far as it reminding me of sexual violence. The violation of bodily autonomy, lack of informed consent, using someone else’s body for one’s personal use, sense of domination from the perpetrator, the victim having a fucked sense of self and self-hatred. The GoL is also Salem’s abuser who violated her autonomy and consent so it’s not out of character for him. RWBY has handled similar topics like Adam and Blake so it’s not like uncharted territory. I even seen ppl claim that the Curious Cat has similar undertones considering what they did to Neo.

"undertones"--even in the extremely biased narration of the lost fable, jinn, telling the story as ozpin understands it, draws an overt equivalency between the god of light and SALEM'S FATHER. you know,

What more could a man want? Just one thing: a son and heir. When his wife became pregnant, the whole castle rejoiced. But soon the lord’s fortune reversed. His beloved fell ill, gave birth to a baby girl, and lost her own life in the process. The lord locked his daughter in the highest tower of the castle and retreated to his chambers to grieve. Only he and the girl’s nanny were allowed in or out of her tower room, on punishment of death. Many weeks passed before the lord visited his baby girl for the first time, and he refused to hold her no matter how much the nanny encouraged or even begged him to. Over the years, his daily visits grew shorter. Then they became visits two or three times a week. By his daughter’s eleventh birthday, he was visiting only once a week. “Why must I stay in this tower?” the girl would ask him. “I am protecting you from anything or anyone that might harm you. You are the most precious thing in the world to me. I could not bear to lose you.” He brought her food and presents: dresses and hairpins, brushes and dolls, but nothing that she could use against him or to take her own life. [...] Meanwhile, miserable and alone, the lord’s sorrow gradually twisted into resentment. He raged against the unfairness of the gods and took out his anger on his staff. He became obsessed with increasing his wealth, as if money could replace the love of his life, increasing land taxes on his tenants and cutting his staff’s wages. Paranoid about losing all he cherished, he dismissed half of his servants and replaced them with trained soldiers to protect his riches and defend his castle. By the girl’s sixteenth birthday, the king was visiting only once a month, whenever the whole moon was visible from her tower window. “This was your mother’s favorite place in the castle,” he told the girl. “She loved gazing out that window.” “And now it is my prison,” the girl said. “You aren’t my prisoner. You’re my daughter.” “Then let me go,” she begged. “I cannot. Someone would abduct you and demand a ransom,” the lord said. “Or worse.” But the girl realized that the lord did not love her as a parent loves a child. Rather, he thought of her as just one of his treasures, to be jealously hoarded like his gold and jewels. […] “What is it?” the knight asked. “What else would make you happy, my dear?” Freedom, she thought. But she bit back the word, for that kind of talk made him angry and violent.

the man who was so viciously abusive that this is how ozpin depicted him in a sanitized fairytale account of what happened.

note, for emphasis, that by the time salem was eleven she was so actively suicidal that her father had to vet every object that went into her room against the risk that she might try to kill herself with it, and he didn't care.

ozma modeled beacon academy after salem's father's castle and put the headmaster's office at the top of the tower—in her cell. whether or not he could actually articulate this feeling consciously, deep down he regards the god of light as an abusive parent too powerful to defeat or escape. and we have seen, with light, that he becomes angry and violent whenever something doesn't go his way and that his immediate, first reaction to one of his creations doing anything he doesn't approve is brutal murder. he tears jabber apart, incinerates ozma, bites salem, shrugs when his brother vaporizes mankind. his ultimatum for remnant is "obey me or die." there's no undertones he is explicitly abusive toward everyone he comes into contact with including his brother.

[crowsofdarkness]

A Fight For Darkness: Chapter Two

-gif not mine. credit to owners-

Pairings: Eric Draven(Bill Skarsgard) x Female!Reader.

Content Warnings: language, violence, mentions of murder, mentions of taking own life, black mail, blood, smoking, drinking, mentions of drug use, arranged marriage, 18+ smut that I will mention at the beginning of the chapter.

Summary: An unknown text and a list full of questions for what happened to your sister leads you down to the underground fight ring that belongs to none other than Eric Draven, The Crow. Once he captures your eyes with his, the web you were desperate to untangle suddenly tightens.

Authors Note: This is not cannon to The Crow(2024). Shelly nor her and Eric's love story exist in this series. Eric does have his fast ability to heal thought. Tags are open for this series as well!

A Fight For Darkness Masterlist

“I’m only going to ask one more time, Y/N. How the hell did you get into the club tonight?” 

Eric’s voice fell on my deaf ears as I continued to stare straight ahead at the peeling paint on the wall, almost in a near catatonic state. My body couldn’t move no matter how hard I tried; not even my toes that were still covered in blood since I kicked them off before my run from those two men. 

I blinked before gazing up towards Eric, who was leaning against the door of the room with his arms crossed over his bare chest. Even in my current state, I looked over the variety of weird tattoos that covered his skin and could feel something inside of me twinge with disgust. 

No, not disgust. Something new for me. 

Arousal?

Typically I wasn't attracted to those kinds of men, my type more on the preppier side. The ones that wore polos and spent their Sunday afternoons at the golf course. 

So why was I currently staring at the hard v-line of his hips, practically drooling over this man? This stranger?  

It’s the shock, I told myself. It had to be the shock of the last ten minutes. I’m not thinking clearly. 

I racked my brain trying to think of an excuse, not wanting to give him the real reason why I was here tonight all the while trying to prove my innocence that I had nothing to do with the two dead bodies in that room. 

One with a slit throat and the other with a bullet hole in their head. 

Blinking away those images, I ran a dry tongue over my lips and let out a staggering breath. 

“I was looking for someone,” I did my best to ignore how shaky my voice sounded. 

Eric raised a brow. “Who?” 

“No one of importance,” my eyes flicked down at my hands, stained with blood. 

I began scratching away at it, opening to rid myself of what I saw.

“How’d you get in tonight?” Eric continued to lean against the door. “I haven’t set out any new invitations in months and this is the first time I’ve seen you here.” 

“Wait,” I looked up at him. “This is your place?” 

“Don’t change the subject. How did you get an invite?” Eric asked again through thin slits of his eyes. 

“Uh,” I began rubbing my palms on my bare thighs, hoping maybe that action would wipe away the dry blood. “Someone sent it to me.” 

It wasn’t a complete lie. 

I was still telling the truth while not divulging too much into my true motives for showing up tonight. That should keep Eric happy enough to let me go. 

“Who?” His deep voice questioned. 

Shit. 

“I don’t know,” I sighed, still rubbing my palms on my thighs. 

Up and down. 

Up. 

Down. 

Just as Eric was about to ask yet another question, there was a rapid knocking on the door. 

“Not now!” He called back. 

“Boss! You need to come see this!” A worried voice said. 

Eric grumbled a spew of curses under his breath before taking three wide strides over towards me, yanking my body off of the couch. His grip on my elbow was fierce, his fingers digging into my skin. 

“What are you doing?” I demanded, my heart nearly bursting out of my chest in fear so I dug my feet into the ground. “Let me go!” 

“I don’t know who you are or why you were here in the first place. Do you really think I’d let you walk around my club unsupervised?” Eric whirled his head towards me with dark eyes. “For all I know, you could have killed those two people.” 

“I didn’t!” I said, shaking my head violently with wide eyes. “I promise! I just walked into the room by accident. I was trying to find the way out!” 

Eric cocked his head to the side with an assessing gaze. It lingered over my face for longer than I deemed necessary yet when his eyes watched the way my throat bobbed, something fluttered deep within my gut. 

“Was that before or after you killed someone?” 

Before I could protest again, someone pounded on the door causing Eric to continue dragging me out of the room. It was so fast, I hadn't had time to see if the man that was leading us through the now empty fight club was the same man I’d run into before; the one that was chasing me. 

People were working on cleaning up the fight cage, scrubbing out the blood from the mat, while others were sweeping up the trash that littered the floor. It felt sticky under my bare feet and internally I cringed at how gross this entire place was. 

Surely there was no way my sister would be involved in some place like this. 

The second we stepped, well more like Eric dragged me through the threshold of the room, I took in sight of the two dead bodies now in better light. My stomach dropped out of my ass and bile rising in my throat. 

It was so much worse than I thought. 

The woman who had her throat slit also had bruises covering her body while the man on the floor not only had the bullet hole in his head but all of his fingertips were cut off. 

“Oh god,” I ripped myself from Eric's grasp to hunch over on my knees, emptying my stomach all over the floor. 

Eric made a noise that sounded a mix between disgust and annoyance as he watched me continue to lose my stomach contents. Eventually when all I could throw up was air, he let out a sigh. 

“I’m going to guess that you didn’t kill these two.” 

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand before slowly rising back to full height. “What gave it away?” 

Something like a smile pulled at his lips but he refused to let it show and instead, motioned towards the two bodies behind me. 

“Do you know them?” 

Refusing to look, I shook my head. “No. I’ve never seen them before. I stumbled in here when I was looking for the way out.”

“Did anyone see you in here?” Eric asked. 

My lips parted but I hesitated, not knowing if it was a good idea to let him know. 

“Don’t bother lying. When you barged into my office it looked like you were running from something,” he noted. 

Letting out a shaky breath, I nodded. “Two guys but I didn’t get a good look at their faces because of how dark it was in here. The only light that was one was the one above the bed.” 

Now, there was a brighter light on, illuminating the entire space. 

Eric scratched at his bare chest, staring at me for a long moment, and I felt myself becoming small underneath his intense gaze. But it wasn’t only that. I found myself feeling that unknown feeling again, like earlier. Something fluttered low in my gut, a warmth spreading through my veins, and I shifted on my bare feet when they stuck to the nasty floor. 

He must have noticed how not only gross I looked but the mess surrounding us as well because he turned to one of the guys in the room with us; one of his guards. 

“Did we get an I.D on these two?” 

The shorter one nodded towards the girl. “Some hooker.” 

I sliced my eyes into him. “That’s not nice.” 

“If you expect me to care about some drugged up hooker, you’re fucking crazy,” the guard took a step towards me. 

Eric was quick to step in his path, blocking him from me. “Watch it, Greg.” 

The guard, Greg, clenched his jaw. “You don’t know who this broad is, Eric. She shows up in your office covered in blood. For all we know, she could have killed these two.”

“Did you not see me throw up all over the place?” I pointed to the ground. 

“That doesn’t mean-.” 

Greg began but Eric held up a hand to silence him, the muscles in his back tensing. 

“Who is the guy?” He asked, changing the subject. 

“That’s where shit gets interesting,” Greg ran a hand over his jaw. “Alexi Sokolov.” 

Eric somehow even went more tense in the shoulders as his head snapped over towards me. “You’ve never seen these two before?” 

“I already told you, no,” I shook my head with narrowed eyes. “Should I?” 

“Alexi is, well was the leader of the Russian mob here in the city. He frequented my fight club a few times,” Eric ran a hand through his short hair. “And that doesnt help narrow down the list on who killed these two.” 

My blood ran cold and skin clammy as I thought back to the two men I ran from. Could I have stumbled into something more than just a simple murder while looking for my sister? Could the Russians be involved in my sister's disappearance?

The task of finding my sister was becoming more daunting and I suddenly questioned if I could do it on my own. 

“I need to get out of here,” I muttered more so to myself. 

I made it all of two steps before Eric’s large frame blocked the doorway. 

“You’re not leaving until I know for a fact you’re not linked to these two,” he crossed his arms over his chest. 

Scolding myself for letting my gaze linger on his thick arms, I narrowed my eyes up at him. 

“I already told you. I don’t know them,” I said through gritted teeth. 

“Until my guys finish running a background check on you, you’re not going anywhere. Especially like that,” Eric nodded towards the dried blood covering me. 

“Did you say you’re running a background check on me?” I nearly yelled. 

He shrugged. “I don’t know you and you still won’t tell me how you got in tonight. So you could save us all the trouble and just tell the truth.”

“Are you going to let me go if I do?” 

Even though my head was held high and eyes were narrowed at him, my voice shook with undeniable fear. 

Eric’s eyes raked over my body, a smug smile on his face. “Depends on what you tell me.”

Gnawing on my bottom lip, I glanced around the room at Eric’s guards who were busy cleaning up; dragging the bodies away and scrubbing the floor with bleach. The severity of what exactly happened tonight was beginning to bury itself deep inside of my bones, the fear making me sick to my stomach again. I could feel the bile rising in my throat again so I swallowed a few times in an effort to keep it down. 

“I don’t know you,” I finally spoke while looking back at Eric. “How do I know you won’t kill me?”

“If I wanted to, you would have been dropped dead on the floor the second you stepped foot into my office,” Eric answered without an ounce of remorse. 

I blinked, mouth agape. “You-you kill people?” 

Eric stood unmoving in front of me, a thick wall of muscles, and his silence was the answer to my question. My palms began to sweat and I took a step away from him, all the blood draining from my veins. 

“I’m leaving,” my voice was meek. 

“No you’re not. Not until you tell me what you were doing in my club,” Eric grunted. 

Not even giving me more than a few seconds, his grip was tight around my elbow as he all but dragged me out of the room and towards his office. 

“Let me go!” I yelled while digging my heels into the ground. 

“And have you run off? I don’t think so,” Eric snorted. 

As we neared his office, he was about to toss me inside when someone else appeared in the doorway making Eric curse and putting me behind him. Due to his height, I couldn’t see over his shoulder so I peered around his shoulder to see a leggy blonde leaning against the doorframe, dark red lips pulled up in a smile. 

“There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you for our celebratory fuck because of your win tonight!” 

I internally frowned at the feeling that festered low in my gut. It was unfamiliar but began to burn when she took a step towards Eric, which in turn made him take one away, bringing me along with him. 

“How’d you get in, Lindsey? I have you blacklisted ” He said, voice clipped. 

The blonde rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe you blacklisted me over a misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding?” Eric’s shoulders tensed. “I caught you snooping through my computer and you proceeded to lie to me when I confronted you about it.”

“You think you saw me,” Lindsey held up a finger. 

“I have you on video surveillance,” he replied bluntly.

That seemed to shut her up as Lindsey crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, I wanted to see you. So what do you say when we head back to my place?” 

Eric’s grip had loosened around my elbow while he was talking so I took it as my opportunity to quietly slip away, doing my best to ignore the stupid and annoying feeling stabbing my gut. 

Why the hell was I jealous? I had no right to be. I didn’t know her or Eric. 

I only made it a few steps before Eric’s hand shot out to grab at the nape of my neck, yanking me back to him. 

“Nice try,” he breathed against the shell of my ear. 

“You seem busy,” I said, ignoring the way my body ignited with a blaze from his grip on the back of my neck. “I don’t want to get in the way of your booty call.”

Something flickered in his dark eyes. “Are you jealous? Want me to bend you over and fuck your tight cunt instead?” 

I swallowed thickly when my core ached at his vulgar words. Never in my life had a man talked to me this way before. So why was I so turned on by it? 

“You’re disgusting,” I tried to fight against him which only made him tighten his grip on the back of my neck, yanking me towards his chest. 

I glanced up at him with my best pissed off expression as nipples brushed over his bare chest through the thin material of my dress. I bit the inside of my cheek at how good it felt, not wanting to let the moan slip from my clenched lips. 

“You didn’t say no,” he said with a smirk. 

“Did you want to?” I blurted. 

What the fuck? Why did I ask him that? I didn’t care to know if he wanted to fuck me or not.

Eric’s eyes flicked up and down over my body again. “Tempting. I must say, the dried blood on your skin is making my cock hard.”

“Can I please go home? I just want to leave,” I begged quietly, changing the subject away from the images of him bending over. 

Truth be told, I was exhausted. I had no idea what time it was and wanted nothing more than to crawl into my bed in hopes of forgetting everything that happened. Also, the earlier revelation that Eric may have killed people made me want to run far away, never looking back.

“Stop fucking asking that,” he muttered under his breath while dragging me back towards his office where Lindsey continued to lean against the doorway; her eyes flaring when she noticed me. 

“Who’s this?” 

“Get the fuck out of here, Lindsey,” Eric demanded and wrenched her out of the way. 

Her protests were hushed by him slamming the door in her face before he swung on his heels, pointing a finger at his couch. 

“Sit.” 

“Fuck you,” I snarled. 

Something flickered in Eric’s eyes as his upper lip twitched but instead of saying anything, he forced me to sit on the couch ignoring my protests. 

Like previously, I sat on the couch while he sat on the edge of the coffee table in front of me. His thighs were spread wide on either side of my closed legs, almost as if he was blocking me in. Eric was still shirtless and I forced myself to keep my eyes on his, not wanting to get caught taking in the sight of his abs. 

He doesn't have a six pack. That man has an eight pack. 

Scolding my inner thoughts, I played with the ends of my dirty dress. 

“So,” Eric’s deep voice broke through the quiet. “How did you get an invite to my fight club?” 

I chewed on the inside of my cheek, contemplating whether or not to lie to him but knew that in the end, the only way I was getting out of here was giving Eric what he wanted. 

Not everything. 

“Uh,” I cleared my throat while sitting up straighter. “Some unknown number texted me with the address and a picture of a bloody crow.” 

Eric hummed. “The Bloody Crow invite. Only specific people on the list get that invite.”

“Do you think you could figure out who sent it?” I asked. 

“The list is over two hundred people long.” 

Not knowing what to say, I nodded. I’d been curious as to who sent me the text earlier today. There were only two people who knew about my search for my sister and that was my dad who was dead; he killed himself shortly after my sister went missing so unless he was contacting me from beyond the grave, it wasn't him. The other was the detective assigned to my sister's case and something told me he wouldn’t be sending me somewhere where I could find out more info about the case than him. 

“Why did you come here tonight?” Eric asked. 

I hesitated for a beat, not knowing if I could trust him with my search. But maybe if I gave him a little bit of information, he could point me in the right direction. 

“My sister,” I said. 

“I don’t have any female fighters.” 

I shook my head with a sigh. “No, she’s missing. Has been for the last six months and I’ve been looking for answers.” 

Eric’s left brow rose. “Isn’t that a job for the police?” 

I snorted. “The police haven’t done shit. They gave up after a month. Everytime I try to get updates, I’m directed to voicemail after voicemail of cops who could care less. So it’s up to me to find out where she is.”

“What makes you think she’s still alive?” 

My heart sank at Eric’s words. I knew there was always the possibility that my sister would be dead, especially with how long she’s been missing, but I refused to think that. I would find her and when I did, she would be alive. 

“I don’t,” I answered honestly. “But I’m not going to stop looking for her.”

“You think she came here?” Eric asked. 

I let out a long sigh before easing back into the couch. “I doubt it. Illegal underground fighting rings wasn’t something she was into.” 

“Who said I run an illegal establishment?” He asked with a mock hurt tone but then his face turned serious. “Do you have a picture of her? Maybe I can recognize her.” 

My knee brushed up against his, a surge of static flowing through me, but I ignored it. 

“How can I trust you? You could lie to me just to throw me off course,” I said with furrowed brows. “I don’t even know you.”

Eric scratched at the tattoos on his chest and shrugged. “That’s right, you don’t. And I don’t know you. But you stumbled into my fightclub. Someone sent you an invite for a reason. Which means one of two things. Either it wasn’t meant for you or I have a mole inside my club.”

“The text said I could find answers for my missing sister here so I think it was meant for me.” 

“Well, then it looks like I have a mole,” Eric’s jaw clenched, a vein on the side of his forehead prominent with a deep shade of purple. 

I motioned to my purse that was still on the table next to Eric. “I have a picture of her in my wallet.” 

Once he rifled through my purse to find the picture, he stared at it for a long moment before shaking his head. 

“I’ve never seen her before.” 

“I’m starting to think this was a dead end. Whoever sent me that text did it to throw me off,” I said. 

Silence fell between us, our deep breathing echoing in the room, and I took in the sight of Eric’s office. It wasn’t big by any means, just a desk with a chair, a couch, and a punching bag in the corner. There was a closed door behind the desk to which I assumed was a closet. 

A rough knock sounded on the main door to his office and Eric called over his shoulder. “Come in!”

One of his guards peered his head inside, hesitating when he saw me sitting on the couch. Eric noticed but instead of kicking me out, he nodded towards the guard urging him on. 

“Uh, boss. We reviewed the tapes and we got something.” 

“What did you find?” Eric asked while rising to his feet. 

I didn’t bother to move, only slink further deep into the couch. 

“Ms. Y/L/N was telling the truth. She came alone and as soon as she saw you fighting in the cage, she tried to leave but ended up in the room with the two bodies. She was in there less than two minutes, not enough time to kill them.”

“Told you,” I grumbled under my breath while crossing my arms over my chest. 

Eric glanced down at me. “Did I disgust you that much during my fight?” 

No, not you. 

“I don’t like violence,” I stated with a shrug.

He hummed before looking back at his guard. “What else did you find out?”

“Whoever the two guys that caught here weren’t that slick. While they were chasing her, they ran into direct sight of the cameras. We got a good look at their faces.”

“And?” 

The guard shifted on his feet before running a hand over his face. “It’s bad.” 

“Worse than the head of the Russian mob being murdered in my club?” Eric retorted back. 

“Worse like they are Roeg’s men.”

A slew of curses fell from Eric’s mouth as he rested his hands low on his hips, the black gym shorts he still wore from his fight hanging even lower. He began pacing the length of his office and I watched with slight fear in my eyes, heart beating rapidly. 

“Who’s Roeg?” I dared ask. 

Eric ignored me, turning back to his guard. “How sure are we that they got a good look at, Y/N?”

“They didn’t get a good look at me,” I said. “The room was dark.” 

“Are you positive?” He directed towards me. 

My lips parted to speak but quickly I snapped them shut when I realized I wasn’t entirely sure if those two men actually saw me or not. 

Running a hand through his hair, Eric went over towards the other door in his office and opened it, pulling out a hoodie and a pair of sweats; him obviously keeping extra clothes in there. He tossed them to me with a pointed finger. 

“Get dressed. Leave your bloody clothes here so we can burn them.” 

“Why?” My voice shook as I held the clothes to my chest. “What are you going to do?” 

“Are we clear?” Eric asked his guard. 

“Yeah,” he nodded. “We did a full sweep of the building and the grounds outside. Roeg’s men are nowhere in sight. Jackson is reviewing the tapes from the backdoor to see how they got in.”

“Send me the footage as soon as you get it,” Eric said and then grabbed a shirt from the closet, throwing it on. “Didn’t I tell you to get dressed?” 

I slowly stood from the couch, still holding the hoodie and sweats close to my chest. “Why? What’s going on?” 

“You’re leaving. Go home and never come back here.” 

Eric’s words should have elated me, finally being able to go home, yet I continued to stand in front of him unmoving. Something in those bright eyes gave way that he was keeping secrets. 

Instead of arguing, I let out a long sigh and nodded. “Trust me, you’ll never see me here again.”

“Good. You can get dressed in here and one of my guards will walk you to your car.” 

He walked towards the open door of his office, muttering something to the guard, but my voice called after him. 

“What am I supposed to do if one of those guys shows up again?”

Eric paused for a moment, contemplating something in his mind, before stalking back over to his desk and ripped open a drawer. 

“If something happens, call me,” he handed me a card with his number on it but held it back before I could grab it. “This doesn’t mean you can text me asking me what I’m doing or what my favorite color is.” 

Narrowing my eyes, I snatched the card from his hand. “Trust me, Eric. You’re not even my type.” 

Liar. 

Ignoring the voice in my head yet again, I held his gaze for a solid three breaths before he let out an amused noise and turned swiftly on his heels, hating right in the doorway. 

“A piece of advice?” Eric called over his shoulder. “Stop looking into your sister's disappearance. You’re going to get yourself killed.”

[xmads-omensx]

MADS I HAVE ONE SONG FOR YOU AFTER READING THAT LAST ONE.

It was legendary It was momentary

[...]

And I'll still see it until I die You're the loss of my life

PART 4 OF CALL ME LOVER

Word Count: 1,921

Pairing: Noah Sebastian X Reader (kinda)

Content Warnings: angst, swearing

Tags: @shayeanna-ashlie @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @supersquirrel1996 @dontwantthemoney @tosoundlessdarkistare @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @klutzy-kay24 @heyyoplayer @lacy1986 @collidewiththesav @kenjipepsi1 @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @chey-h @thisbicc @fadingangelwisp @heyyoplayer @dsireland86 @missduffsblog @overmydeadbodysblog @dominuslunae @littlebear423 @blade-dressed-in-red @rumoured-whispers @kait16xo @eclipseeetop @xxkittenkissesxx @theanarchymuse95 @blackveilomens @lilgarbitch @lil-garbitch @concretejunglefm

“And I can go anywhere I want, anywhere I want, just not home”

- My Tears Ricochet by Taylor Swift

Two people lay under the bedsheets of a shitty motel, their hands entwined, making them one.

The room was quiet.

Words weren’t needed here.

They knew.

They understood.

She was falling, but he had already fallen a long time ago.

They would both keep falling, deeper and deeper, until they crashed to the ground. Broken. The shards mixing together, merging them together forever.

But that would never happen.

They were falling at different times, in different places, with different destinations, at different speeds.

One would keep falling forever. The other would crash into an emergency landing to preserve their happiness, even if it was a lie.

One unrelenting heartbeat. One unrequited belief.

They were intwined with eachother so tightly that they could never be separated.

Until they were.

“Mommy watch.” A child’s voice giggled.

Noah looked up to see a small girl with light brown hair attempt a cartwheel. It was adorable if he was being honest with himself. It made him smile ever so slightly.

The sight shot a pang of agony into his chest.

Memories of his desire to have that future with her flooded his mind as he watched the young girl run to her mother.

She was much older now than she had been the last time he saw her.

She held the girl in her arms as they laughed.

“You did amazing, Sarah.” She cooed with a warm smile.

He felt his heart shatter as he watched her stand up, holding the girl, Sarah, in her arms. She stood up and looked around as if she was searching for someone.

Then it happened.

Their eyes met.

For the first time in years, Noah’s heart soared.

Time seemed to stand still, like it had on her wedding day when he walked her down the aisle, like it had all those years ago at the show she knew every single lyric at.

She made time stop just by looking at him.

“Y/N!” A deep voice called out from the other side of the play park.

He was there too.

Noah knew he should walk away, but his feet wouldn’t move.

She was right there.

Right fucking there.

But he remained stationary, like he had since she left him.

Right where she left him.

The star-crossed lovers were once again stuck.

Neither of them moving.

Both of them wanting to move.

For a moment, they were just two people under bedsheets again.

Simple. Calm. Loved.

But she had to pull away again, like she always did.

Noah watched helpless as Y/N turned towards the voice. Richard was her husband after all. Noah was nothing.

Sure, he used to be something. But now?

Now he meant nothing.

She had moved on. She always would.

Noah still yearned for those moments they shared when everything was okay. Back when they were younger.

Y/N laying on the sofa, her back pressed against his warm chest as she braided his long hair that had made its way over her own shoulder, softly humming one of the songs that Noah had been writing, and had been playing for her on repeat.

If I’m there….

Him chasing her around with a dirty dish cloth as she screamed for mercy, her infectious laugh making his heart flutter.

He stood there, watching her walk away from him once again.

She offered no look back at him this time as he watched her leave, her husband guiding her and their two children out of the park.

Outside, the world had kept turning whilst Noah yearned for a different life. She just kept on burning.

Noah often wondered what their house looked like. He imagined it was a lot bigger than his small one-bed apartment.

Regardless, the life she was living now was more than likely far better than the life he could have provided her.

As much as he wanted that, he could never have it.

He wasn’t worthy.

Richard was.

Two people lay under the bedsheets of a shitty motel.

Hands entwined.

Lives entwined.

Souls entwined.

He was desperate to have her all to himself, forever, but he wasn’t worthy. He never was and never would be.

She was desperate to have him to herself, but she couldn’t. He wasn’t the man from the motel anymore.

He was changed.

She was changed.

Neither for better, neither for worse.

Noah trailed back to his apartment, his heart still stuck back at the park, waiting for his love to return to him.

The dagger plunged deeper and deeper into his chest with every step he took further away.

It was like his heart knew that he wanted to be with her. That he needed to be with her. That they were soulmates.

That night, he lay in bed, alone, waiting.

He wasn’t sure what it was that he was waiting for, but he knew it would never come.

The prospect of wandering back into rekindled flames was far too tempting for Noah to ignore. More than anything, he wanted to walk back to that park and tell her how he felt.

But he was desperate.

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and walked out of his apartment, grabbing his jacket and keys on the way out.

It had started raining now.

Noah didn’t care.

He stormed back to the park, and walked in the direction that she had left through, hoping for some sign of where she went.

The grey of the sky was a stark contrast to the vibrant blue hue that illuminated the sky earlier.

His eyes darted around, searching for just a glimpse of her.

They had found themselves in a similar situation many years ago.

His long hair whipped around in the wind as his eyes frantically searched, but failed to locate what it was they he was looking for.

Anything would do.

A glimpse of her hair peeking out from behind one of the trucks. Her shoe poking from behind a van. Anything.

It was getting far too late now for her to be out this late.

His phone rang, scaring him.

It was Y/N.

“Y/N, where are you?” He gushed into the phone.

“I- Um- Can you come pick me up?” She murmured, voice clearly strained from crying.

“What happened? Are you okay?” Noah asked with a panicked voice.

“We had a fight. Can you come and pick me up? He wants me to go.” She whispered, voice still hoarse.

“Of course I’m on my way now.” He said, standing up and grabbing his car keys before throwing his jacket on.

He sprinted out to his car, fearing the worst, speeding over to her boyfriend’s house.

The drive flew by. Houses becoming blurry shapes in the corner of his eyes as he rushed to her rescue.

He banged on the front door, silently begging for her to rush into his arms.

Part of him began to wistfully daydream of their future.

He would be stood outside of your front door, in his suit and tie, waiting for you to open the door and follow him back to his car, arm in arm.

“In the nick of time.” Brett, Mr. steal your girl then make her cry, sighed as he opened the door, allowing a tearful Y/N to rush out, past Noah and to his car.

The drive back to the motel was silent.

Noah’s mind began to wander again.

This time, he saw a house encased by green trees and tall mountains. Rain fell from the sky, cooling his skin as he walked towards the house.

In the window, he would see hands waving at him.

He would wave back.

“Daddy!” An exited voice would call out to him as he neared the house.

He would grin from ear to ear as he picks up his daughter and spins her around, making her giggle.

A sniffle next to him pulled him out of his daydreaming.

Two people lay under bedsheets, hands tangled together like the roots of tall pine trees.

Solemn in the rain, but growing none the less.

They needed rain to live.

But this time the rain wouldn’t stop.

The brief respite would be followed by an eternal downpour as they both fell deeper and deeper.

The motel was shitty.

Noah knew that when he booked a room, but he only needed it for one night, and it wasn’t like Y/N would be staying there with him so he didn’t really pay much mind to it.

As soon as they pulled into the car park, Noah had gone into protective mode, getting ready to keep her out of harms way.

His eyes flitted around the cat park, looking for any potential dangers, but came up empty.

Taking her hand, he led her to the room he had booked.

It was small and smelled funky, but Noah didn’t care. He was there to keep you safe, not have a five star resort getaway.

She sat on the bed, the frame creaking slightly under her weight.

Unsure of what to do, Noah sat beside her and pulled her into a hug.

She collapsed into him, clutching his shirt as she sobbed, her body shaking.

Some selfish part of Noah was happy she was crying into his arms, and not staying the night at Brett’s, but he had to push those feelings to one side for the moment.

After a while, she pulled away to answer her phone that had been incessantly ringing.

Brett.

Y/N placed the phone down and curled back into Noah’s side once the call was over.

She didn’t cry.

She just lay there.

Two people lay under bedsheets, their hands entwined, but their futures distant.

One yearning for a different life. A life with her.

The other simply yearning for love, even though she wanted him.

It had always been him.

It had always been her.

But they both knew they were better off safe than starry-eyed.

The park was barren.

All the families were long gone, so Noah now stood alone frantically searching for his lost love, hoping for a second chance at forever.

He could hear leaves crunch to his left, as the rain began to pour.

Noah whipped his head towards the sound.

There she stood.

Her long brown coat drifting against the wet leaves as she stood up from where she had been crouched on the floor.

In her hands she held a small, stuffed elephant.

It was very worn and well-loved, clearly a children’s toy.

What Noah would never admit, was that he still held the stuffed lamb that she had bought him when they were much younger after that festival show.

He couldn’t sleep without it.

He refused to wash it, clinging on to the faint scent of her that remained.

Their eyes locked.

But it was different this time.

As the rain poured around them, something felt like it was missing.

In one glimpse, everything vanished.

In her eyes, Noah could see that she no longer had that spark in them. The spark that he fell in love with all those years ago in that bar.

Their love had been a falsehood. One sided all along.

Y/N offered no smile as she turned away, heading back towards the gates to exit the park.

Grief overwhelmed Noah.

But he felt fine at the same time. As if nothing had happened.

Why should he mourn the fact that something counterfeit was dead?

They were once legendary.

But they were now momentary.

She would always be one fool in a wedding gown.

[ice-man-goes-bwoah]

Male reader? Please?

You’re the best thing in my life||Charles leclerc x Male!Readrr

Word count- 939

Valentine’s Day in Monaco had always been picturesque, but this year, Charles was determined to make it unforgettable. He had been secretive for weeks, dodging every attempt Y/N made to get details out of him.

“You’re terrible at surprises,” Y/N had teased just the night before, watching Charles smirk as he set his phone down, clearly confirming last-minute details.

“Ah, but this time, mon amour, I think I might actually succeed.”

The next morning, Y/N stirred awake, immediately reaching out for Charles—only to find the bed empty. Blinking against the soft morning light, he sat up, running a hand through his hair. The apartment was silent, too silent.

That’s when he noticed the single red rose resting on Charles’ pillow, along with a handwritten note in his familiar handwritten:

“Wear something warm and meet me downstairs at 8 AM. No questions. Just trust me.”

Y/N chuckled to himself, brushing his fingers over the petals before stretching and getting out of bed. He was curious about what Charles had planned, and the secrecy only made it more intriguing.

After getting dressed, he headed downstairs, where Charles was casually leaning against his Ferrari, sunglasses perched on his nose, a coffee in one hand. The sight alone made Y/N’s heart swell.

“Bon matin, mon cœur,” Charles greeted, his signature grin widening as he saw Y/N approaching.

“You’re up to something,” Y/N accused playfully, crossing his arms.

“Maybe,” Charles said, setting his coffee aside and stepping closer to press a lingering kiss to Y/N’s lips. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

The drive through the winding roads of the French Rivier was breathtaking, the early sun cast a golden glow over the Mediterranean. Charles wouldn’t say much, only squeezing Y/N’s hand every so often and humming along to the music playing softly in the background. The easy silence between them spoke of of a love that needed no words to be felt.

Eventually, they arrived at a secluded cliffside overlooking the sea. A beautifully arranged picnic was set up on the grass—a cozy blanket, candles that flickered despite the soft breeze, and an assortment of pastries, fresh fruit, and coffee.

Y/N blinked in surprise. “You did all this?”

Charles rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Well, I had some help setting it up, but the idea was mine.”

Y/N grinned, shaking his head fondly. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I know,” Charles said, tugging Y/N down onto the blanket beside him. “But I also know that you do so much for me. You support me even when I’m exhausted, even when I come home frustrated after a bad race. Today, I wanted to make sure you felt just as cherished.”

Y/N’s teasing smile softened. He reached out, threading his fingers through Charles’ hair. “You do that every day, Charles.”

They spent the morning wrapped up in each other, sharing croissants and laughter, stealing soft kisses between bites. The crisp sea air mixed with the warmth of Charles’ body beside him, making Y/N feel like he could stay in moment forever.

Att one point, Charles pulled out a small velvet box, his green eyes filled with anticipation.

“It’s nothing extravagant,” he said, opening it to reveal a delicate bracelet with a tiny charm in the shape of a race car. “But I saw it and thought of you.”

Y/N took the bracelet, running his fingers over the charm. It was simple, understated, but meaningful—so perfectly Charles.

“It’s perfect,” he murmured, looking up at him.

Charles grinned, pulling Y/N into his arms. “Happy Valentine’s Day, mon amour.”

“But I didn’t get you anything” y/n said looking back at Charles.

Charles slimed and reach out taking y/ns hands in his placing a soft kiss on his hand “it’s okay you’ve already give me the best thing ever. You.”

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🐕‍🦺1k 💜💜💜💜💙💙💙💙 ooo excited to see Eddie's POV in a cranberry story!

WOO! Let's go.

1k for the girlie (dog):

---

But the thing is, Cranberry is potentially one of the most perfect creatures in all of existence. He can’t say that out loud. Buck already says he babies her too much. As if she isn’t an eternal baby? She’s just easy to exist around. Happy, quiet, sweet. He doesn’t have to be anything around her, because she’s sort of obsessed with him for no reason, as is. So, yeah. As much as he’s grateful for Pepa and Carla, he’s sort of eager to see his dog. Buck’s dog. Whatever. 

“In the crate,” Chris grumbles, looking sour about it. “I knew you’d want to see her.”

“Christopher,” Pepa scolds. 

“We didn’t want her to jump or knock into you,” Carla explains. “We know she gets a little over excited about you.”

“Training goes out the window every time Eddie gets home from work,” Buck admits. 

“I want to see her,” Eddie says, feeling snappish. “Let her out.”

Pepa and Carla look surprised. 

He’s not usually… Well he knows he’s being short. He knows they did what they thought was right. But still. He wants the damn dog. Why is no one getting her? Does Eddie have to go get her? He will.

“Okay, uh… I’ll go get Cran,” Buck says, upon reading that Eddie is dead serious. “Eddie, why don’t you go sit down, okay? Or, if you need to go to bed…”

“I don’t,” Eddie says. “I’m just… Yeah, I’ll sit down.”

‘

Pepa looks at him nervously. “Can I get you anything, Edmundo? Water?”

Eddie shakes his head. He just wants the damn dog.

“I’m good.”

🦮🦮🦮

Cranberry comes tearing through the house towards him, squealing with excitement that he’s home. But right before she crashes into where he sits on the couch, she stops. She looks at him blankly for a moment. Eddie tenses. Chris is sitting beside him, watching both of them. Eddie doesn’t want to react to the dog acting differently, so he keeps very still. But why? Why did she stop? Can she sense that something is missing about him?

Cranberry takes a tentative step forward and starts to sniff his legs. 

“It’s okay, Cran,” Chris says. “Dad is okay. He missed you.”

Eddie keeps still. His throat feels very tight. He feels like he might cry. 

But then Cranberry wags her tail, licks Eddie’s knee, and hops up onto the couch.

“Careful!” Carla calls across the room. “Oh, be careful.”

Eddie ignores it. He uses his good arm to stroke Cranberry’s head as she lies across his lap. She stays very still, presses her head into his stomach. 

“Good girl,” Eddie whispers. “Thank you, good girl.”

Buck walks into the living room, pausing in the entryway. He watches them. Eddie pretends he doesn’t see. 

iii.

Buck takes even more time off work. 

He’s already been gone for a week to be beside Eddie in the hospital. He takes another week.

Eddie feels guilty about it. Guilty, guilty, guilty. Shameful. How many days did he take off when Buck lost his leg? None. How many days did he take when Shannon died? Three shifts. Three. What kind of fucking person is he?

Buck is such a good caretaker, too. Astounding really. Eddie has everything he needs, all the time. Never misses wound care or medication doses. He does it all while caring for Chris, the dog, and minding Eddie’s shitty mood. He’s a miracle. A force of nature. Eddie loves him. He appreciates him. He wishes he’d remember to say that more now. For some reason, the words are stuck on his tongue. Thank you. I love you. What would I do without you? Why can’t he just say it?

He just has to hope Buck knows while he tries to shake his brain free of cobwebs. 

Eventually, though, Buck does have to return to work. He does have to leave Eddie. Eddie dreads it. Quietly. He doesn’t say he’s terrified about being alone with his thoughts today. He doesn’t say he’s sore and miserable. He doesn’t say knowing Buck is in the other room, doing dishes, while Eddie sleeps, makes Eddie feel safer. 

On the morning Buck is due back at Emergency Ops, Eddie wakes up to Cranberry laying her head on his chest. He’s been having trouble getting up in the morning. The meds make him sluggish. Eddie insisted Buck wake him up before he goes, but when he opens his eyes, Buck is dressed and ready, trying to sneak out of the bedroom. Which doesn’t make sense. Because Cranberry is in bed. 

“Buck,” Eddie rasps, pinned in place by the dog. 

Buck pauses, then turns to Eddie.

“Hey, hon,” Buck smiles. “I’m just about to go. You need anything?”

“Uh, no… But, why aren’t you taking Cran?”

Buck frowns. “Um… Well… I put pull tabs on the fridge and some drawers. I put your meds in a velcro bag she knows to target. She can do other basic retrievals.”

“Buck…”

“She won’t be any work!” Buck interjects. “She’s been fed, done her business, and has enough water to get through the day. She’ll be fine if you can’t let her out until I’m home. She doesn’t need anything, but she can help you.”

Eddie sighs. “I know she’s not any work, but Buck… She’s yours. You need her.”

“Yeah, and today she can help both of us,” Buck says. “Because… Because I think you need her more than me. And knowing she’s here with you will put my mind at ease, okay? If you need me, drop your phone but can’t… She could get it for you, you know?”

And how the hell is Eddie supposed to say no to that? Because, honestly? He’d feel better with her here, too. 

“Okay,” he says. “Thank you, Buck.”

He manages to say it that time.

[traincat]

hey I wanted to tell you how much I love your writing. it’s been so long now I don’t remember how I found your spideytorch fics originally, but as a kid who loved spider-man comics, I rediscovered it all over again through your fics. I’d almost forgotten all these little pieces I love about Peter and MJ and Johnny, and it was so cool to find that again in your writing.

the first time I read one of your fics was six years ago (maybe the fake married one), and I think I left a comment as a guest once. but I’ve reread them so many times and they’ve brought me a lot of happiness and made me laugh on some crappy days, and I did not leave enough comments. now that I’ve written a fic and realized how much I love getting comments, I’m frustrated at all the times I didn’t comment on fics I loved.

anyway, I’m going to go back and comment a lot, but I just wanted to say you’re an amazing writer ❤️ your stories have so much heart, and you find this balance of clever, sharp lines along with emotional depth that I am addicted to. (and if you ever wrote a book or a comic or anything, I would preorder on day 1)

Anon, thank you so much! You're really kind for telling me this. I'm so glad you enjoy my fics enough to reread them and that they've made you feel better when you're down! I've been feeling a little disconnected from comics fandom lately, honestly, but I'm sure I'll drift back eventually so I hope you'll read my fics then too. 💕

[thevikingwoman]

So happy to be going for Year of the OTP. For January, I picked sharing clothes. which is a favorite trope of mine. And the confederate haori does look great on Meryta, of course.

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV | Words: 870 | Read on Ao3

Tansui x Meryta Khatin (warrior of light) | sometime after shb | fluff Rating: Mature. Clothes sharing stealing, a small rest day, sensuality, mild possessiveness, Tansui has a problem, the problem is he is very much in love, reference to sexual situations

Heat

The day was hot and sticky, as if a wind had blown the heat and steam from Hell’s Lid all across the Ruby Sea. Many of the Confederates had set out in boats, or simply jumped in the waters surrounding Onokoro. Of course, someone has to be patrolling, and collecting, but Tansui is not one of them, not today. Not when Meryta is here. Seeking a cold breeze, Tansui and Meryta commandeered a small vessel and set out on the waters.

The seas were not much cooler, however, so they found a small sandbank with a knoll and a lonely tree – not much shade, but enough. From there, they waded and swam the ocean, joyfully splashing about like children. Until they engaged in some very adult activities, that is. Tansui still thinks it’s unfair Meryta can breathe underwater, but today he’s not complaining.

He’s currently resting under the tree, the reflection of the evening sun making the waves glow orange, as if they are on fire in truth. Meryta is stretched out in the sand, soaking up the last sun. Something about the heat of the sand being nice against her scales.

He lets his gaze roam over her naked form. Her back and her ass, her tail swishing lazily in the sand. The sun on her scales and horns, rendering them almost translucent at their dark green ends. Her feet, the soles a lighter green than the rest of her body. It’s too hot for him to lay in sun, but he’s content to stare, to lazily enjoy the shade and her presence.

He must have dozed off, for when Tansui wakes, it’s dusk. The moon has risen, and a few bright stars light the darkening sky. Meryta, perplexingly, is in the water.  He stretches, and walks to the water’s edge.

“Taking another dip?”

“No.” She fishes something out of the water. A piece of cloth? “Tide almost got my clothes.”

He chuckles. “Did it get you too?” Now he’s awake, he can see the sandy strip is narrower than before. Meryta flicks her tail in annoyance, the tip of it skimming the water.

“It’s not funny.”

“Sure looks funny to me.”

“What if I hadn’t woken up? I could have drowned.”

“You can’t drown, Meryta.” He winks at her.

“Ugh.” She sounds more exasperated than angry, and he is glad of it. He would not stand a chance did she bring all her fury to bear. It’s not that he forgets her power, he simply chooses to think it does not matter between them. Tansui’s thoughts are rudely interrupted by a hard, wet hit to his bare stomach. Meryta’s soggy clothes, bundled up and thrown with considerable force. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he almost falls on his ass, making an undignified sound.

Meryta breezes past him, and swoops up his haori where he discarded it, when it was too hot to wear. She shrugs it on.

“I’m cold,” she says. “And all my clothes are wet.”

He knows, as they are currently dripping in his hands. It is cooler now, and he holds them away from himself, so his pants don’t get wet, at least.

Gathering his wits, he tosses the bundle of clothes in the boat, which he did have the foresight to pull far enough onto their island. He’s sailed these waters too long to make foolish mistakes.

“You could have told me the tide rises so much out here,” Meryta says, mayhap following his line of thought, her eyes drawn by the tossed clothes.

“I did not plan to nap. And neither did you, I suspect. I suppose we were worn out from the… swim.”

“It was a very good, warm, nap.” She smiles at him, bright and genuine, her grumpy demeanor all but vanished.

She stretches, his haori falling half open, revealing the tantalizing curve of her breasts, the scales scatted across her abdomen, and the shaded place her legs meet. He freezes, unable to form clear thoughts. He wants to push the haori off her body, he wants her to wear it always, just like this.

Powerful, effortlessly, she is wearing his clothes. She walks towards him, her tail swishing in front of her, drawing his eye to her thighs. He wants to touch. He craves her. He acts, reaching for her, pulling her close, kissing her lips, biting them. He wants to claim her, mark her, leave something with her, something more permanent than a shirt, he wants, he needs –  she bits him back, laugh in the throat and they break apart.

“Mine,” is all he gets out, his thoughts all jumbled with his sudden need.

“You can have it back when I have dry clothes,” Meryta says, “Maybe. It’s very soft.”

“It does suit you. A tad long, perhaps.”

He lets her think he was talking of the haori all along. He doubts she will appreciate the direction of his thoughts. Fierce and independent, she comes and goes as she wills, and he will let that be enough.

Meryta tucks her head under his chin, bumping it. “Maybe I should hem it.”

He thinks of it, her wearing it across the world, with her scions.

“Maybe you should.”